Wednesday, September 26, 2007

Coffee is the closest thing to love.

Yes, I am addicted to coffee. I was even laughing in my head when I read the photocopied paper in Psychology about addiction. It’s because I can fully relate to everything it talked about.

I repeat, I am addicted to coffee. I drink the instant ones, the brewed ones and eat the candied ones. It causes my heart beat to race. I sometimes hear my pulse because I think I just drank a lot of coffee. There are days when coffee to me is breakfast. One mug and I’m off to go. It’s like that. My mom gets mad but I don’t care. This is what addiction is.

Sometimes I feel guilty about it. I’ve already heard from a lot of people that drinking a lot of coffee is not good for the body. In fact, I have this friend who had a frightening story about her friend, who did not sleep for five days straight. She gagged on a coffee shop like someone who is epileptic. She lost consciousness and was rushed to the nearest hospital. This is all because of coffee addiction. Though it scares me a little, coffee to me is a love that turned into a vice.

Yes, the craving experience mentioned in the paper totally happens to me. My day isn’t complete without it. I am like turned-on by everything that smells like coffee. When I had my Humanities 1 class last summer, we were tasked to paint using coffee. I discovered that painting was so much fun when you use coffee. After the arts activity, I actually thought of painting my room with coffee. I just wanted to wake up to the scent of it.

I'm loving my Psych classes and our prof Sir Sanchez was right. When you eat/drink something, it doesn’t only involve your taste buds. It is a different experience. To quote a classmate, “eating is the highest form of glory because saints, warriors, terrorists and scientists stop whatever they are doing just to eat”. Sir said eating/drinking also involves the sense of smell. Look at how Jollibee effectively raised sales because of their “Langhap Sarap” tag. It also involves the sense of sight, which is why microwaveables don’t appeal to us that much. Sometimes it is joined with the sense of touch. I feel this whole experience everytime I drink coffee. The aroma itself felt so good I can almost taste it.

Though coffee is so much a part of my system now that if I don’t drink coffee for the day I become so sleepy during late afternoon, I limit myself to two cups of coffee a day at most. At random times of the day, I also eat coffee candy. I control a little because I don’t want to gag in front of class someday. I still love my sleep too. This is why even when my addiction can be cured, I don’t think I have the need to. It’s not at all very harmful anyway. I’ve also read that sometimes smelling a certain food will satisfy cravings. So I’m glad there are coffee candies sold outside the school.

As you can notice, this blog entry is a testimony of my coffee addiction. That alone will tell you how addicted I am. For the record, I’m happy that I’m addicted to coffee.

At least I’m not doing drugs.

Sunday, September 9, 2007

Sweet Matthew

Sweet Matthew
What am I losing you to?

The me who loves you
And the me who loves me
Like two big plates
Of viands on a
Buffet table

And I wait for your
Next infidelity
So precariously…

Sweet Matthew
What am I losing you to?

I’ve read the papers
I’ve read her letters
And baby asks too much.

I don’t know how to answer
When there is sweat on my ankles
Dried brandy at the
Sides of my lips.

It’s apparent.
I grip at the ends of your mercy.
Even when I tend your abode
Even when I tend to
Your immediate desires.

Sweet Matthew,
Come back home.
Baby asks too much.
*I Googled "Matthew" since Matthew is the subject of this poem. Screened images and chose this Matthew as model for my poem. His name is Matthew Bomer. Cutie eh? =)

Tuesday, September 4, 2007


I have something to say.

I think, that something is just THERE to make things wrong. It is an implicit force driven to clothe intentions with wrong intentions, of kindness with deceit and of truth with fallacies.

It is a covering; like that of a kwek-kwek...thick, ugly and consuming.

It blurs our perceptions of people, moreover, it filters the good things that people give to us. It rearranges the sequence of sensitive events, those which break hearts, homes and institutions.

It is the reason why when one offers to help, one is usually accused of having motives, or of not helping enough. It is the reason why we always think twice if one says s/he love us ("i love you.." "really?") but we don't think twice when somebody tells us that s/he hates us ("i hate you").

It is always determined to make things wrong. It is an unseen enemy. Unsought. Unstoppable. Inevitable.