As much as I enjoy slitting my wrists, slicking layer upon layer of eyeliner, crying, and emo-ing out to Hawthorne Heights’ Ohio Is For Lovers* when life gets shitty and oh-so-unbearable (like when my bangs aren’t as floppy as they were yesterday, causing only a fourth of my face to be covered or when I run out of things to be angry or sad about), sometimes, happy music is just what I need to get through these trying times. Truly, listening to songs about sunshine and rainbows and Hello Kitty and Miley Cyrus is the best way to cope when one is stricken with the *~emo feeling~*. These songs are called ~feel-good songs~ because they inspire us to be happy and not sad and not emo and generally make us want to be better people, better children, better lovers, better students, and better citizens.
CHACARRON MACARRON BY EL MUDO: NOT A FEEL-GOOD SONG.
Now because I am a simple people with a brain capable only of the simplest thoughts and simplest blog entries, I have here a list made up of my five ~feel-good songs~ that inspire me to be happy and not sad and not emo and generally make me want to be a better people, a better children, a better lovers, a better students, and a better citizens.
I’ve always regarded Natasha Bedingfield as “that Bedingfield girl? That gay dude’s sister? The one who sang that really gay song? Yeah, him. She’s the sister.” You could say I’m about four years late “loving” this song, and it’s all thanks to The Hills. It’s quite silly, actually, how my heart swells and soars everytime this song comes on. It’s also possible that this sort of reaction is actually brought upon by my love for The Hills and LA (loverrrr) and not the song itself.
Well, not really.
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten
Some three years ago, Sam called this the defining song of our generation. I felt bad not having the slightest clue who The Ataris were so I immediately downloaded the song and it has since been of my favoritest tracks of all time. It’s just so…defining of our generation! It brings to mind road trips and meadows and chasing after dragonflies and collapsing on the greenest grass and asking the dude next to you to hand you an ice cold beer while you doodle hearts on your Chucks as someone strums a guitar in the not-so-far distance. While you eat KFC chicken.
Not that I’ve ever done that. Except for the KFC part.
Here in this diary,
I write you visions of my summer.
It was the best I ever had.
There were choruses and sing-alongs,
and that unspoken feeling
of knowing that right now is all that matters.
This is a song I’ve loved since high school (along with the whole Dawson’s Creek vol I OST) and I always dreamed of having someone who’d make me feel like this song. But really, it takes me back to when I was a sad and ~deep~ teen with a superiority complex who thought herself above her peers simply because she listened to ~the good stuff~ as opposed to the cheesy prom music that they all went gaga for (Michael Johnson’s I’ll Always Love You is an example of cheesy prom music).
No, not really. But something like that.
I’m coming home to you
I’m alive I’m a mess
I can’t wait to get home to you
To get warm and undressed
…
So keep me in your bed all day
Nothing heals me like you do
Oh, shut up. You know you loved and played the heck out of this song three years ago (if you’re Filipino). It was and will always be one of my favorites, even though every Friendster Beauty (you know…those people who are only pretty on their Friendster profiles because they brighten the crap out of their pictures to hide all their ugly) out there probably knows the lyrics by heart and have once called themselves a “real, messy, beautiful, twisted sunshine”.
AN EXAMPLE OF A FRIENDSTER BEAUTY…EXCEPT SHE’S STILL UGLY.
THEREFORE, WE CALL THIS: FRIENDSTER FOTOSHOP FAIL.
Nothing compares to the good times
Feels like we’re floating, when the rest have to climb
You made me believe in love, and not the perfect kind
A real messy beautiful twisted sunshine
I hope these songs bring joy and laughter to your life the way they have brought joy and laughter to mine.
Other ~feel-good songs~ I am not ashamed to admit I love: Wake Up - Hilary Duff, L.O.V.E. - Ashlee Simpson, Stars Are Blind - Paris Hilton, Stickwitu - The Pussycat Dolls, and I Want You - Savage Garden.
“Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst” with generators.
*Yes, I totally googled “most emo songs”. I’ve never really heard of that song until a few minutes ago
I’m turning 23 in less than a week and I’ve been asked several times what my plans are. I have nothing. Oddly enough, I have yet to find the desire to mark the “occasion” with alcohol and other shows of early-20s debauchery.
You know what I want— what I really want— for my birthday? Ice cream over cupcakes and him mouthing the words “I love you” at me from across the table.
Bah.
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23 for 23 is me posting one birthday-related entry a day (or at least attempts to), ending on May 31st. See all posts here.
Lover, on my last entry and how a bunch of you commented on how hot my dad is/was: one day, i would just like half the compliments from our daughter’s friends that your dad gets. Sheesh.
Judging by how hot my boyfriend is and how well he’s aged, I told him he’s likely to receive such comments. I doubt, though, that I’d take nicely to our daughter’s friends calling him a DILF (because I am possessive like that). This is, of course, assuming that our daughter would be a blogger at age 12 (god knows what she has to blog about, though, at that age) and I’d be the cool mom who reads her blog but isn’t cool enough to approve of 12-year olds knowing what DILF stands for.
Several times in the past, lover and I have talked about what our daughters would be like, going as far as mapping out their lives. We’d have two: one would be named Asia (after a certain feature of mine) and the other would be named Tonette (a name I do not approve of and she will, therefore, lead a very tragic life).
Our sample babies (Tonette is obviously the ugly one):
Asia will grow up to be an exotic dancer while Tonette will most likely end up living the high life (in dark alleyways, no less). Both will have— to quote their father— “nice lips, gorgeous eyes, nice eyebrows, and eating disorders” and will be “asking for non-fat milk” because “their mother will be singing lullabies about staying thin.” Playtime would consist of me teaching them to hop, meow, and quack.
(I hope none of you are taking this seriously.)
I always joke about how I’d probably end up married (or not even) with 3 kids all belonging to different fathers, but really, that’s just a defense mechanism of mine because most of the time, I fear that I’m going to end up like one of my mom’s sisters— she’s single, in her late 30s, and childless. That’s a scary thought, especially for someone who sees motherhood (and the things that come with it in a perfect, domesticated world: a pet dog, a newspaper subscription, making breakfast for your family, apples in brown paper bags, ironing your husband’s work shirts, long afternoon’s doing the laundry, weekend tennis games etc etc) as normalcy. A scarier thought, though, is knowing that I could end up just like that and I’d be okay with it. It makes me wonder how I have come to want such a life. *insert HUHLOLZ here*
Anyway, I’m pretty sure that when lover and I have actual non-catbunny/bunnycat daughters, we’d make sure to either keep them out of, or in drug rehab.
Seeing that it is the 23rd of May and to prove to myself that I do not completely fail when it comes to certain things (like blogging everyday!!!), I thought today would be a good time to return to 23 for 23.
To make up for the ten skipped parts, I originally thought of posting ten pictures from the last ten years, starting from 1998 when I was 13 (that was obviously me proving to you that I know math). It seemed like a brilliant idea until I attacked our family photo albums and realized that the pictures weren’t organized by year.
My brilliant idea was an immediate fail.
So I thought: oh what the heck, I’ll post pictures anyway (besides, why would I want to post pictures of my awkward phase which is basically me, aged 6-16?). Starting with a picture from my 1st birthday party! At McDonald’s! Followed by a picture of me blowing out my birthday candle at 4!
THAT THING ON MY NOSE…I DO NOT KNOW WHAT IT IS.
1. A very young me, evidenced by the fact that I am wearing a silly head thing for very young babies.
2. It looks like I’m peeing, but I am not.
3. Helga, age shorter-than-a-doorknob.
4. Me with a childhood toy I absolutely do not remember having.
1. Still with the same childhood toy. It surprises me how tiny I was.
2. This was a Christmas gift from someone. I remember breaking that thing in half while playing with it.
3. I think I also broke my brother’s Batman toy.
4. Me and my daddy!
1. At Manila Zoo. I have a bunch of pictures smiling like that.
2. You don’t see it, but I was sitting on a bilao.
3. My brother and I being total 80s kids (I was wearing lavender leggings, his sleeves were rolled up).
4. A prediction of things to come.
1. AWKWARD!
2. AWKWARD!
3. AWKWARD!
4. MOST AWKWARD!!!
I was a cute kid, if I may say so myself. Just ignore the last set.
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23 for 23 is me posting one birthday-related entry a day (or at least attempts to) for the next 23 days. See all posts here.
Another new theme, something I’m hoping to stick to for a couple of months. Not totally done yet, as I have to edit the CSS for my comments and then I validate my coding. *cries*
Thoughts?
PS: This layout will most likely look like shit on IE. I tested my localhost version on IE and the Twitter and MyBlogLog scripts don’t seem to work. Bah.
PPS: I made the cupcake; it’s my birthday cupcake with a cherry instead of a candle. Heehee.
Edit - Code validated. I really should aim for xHTML 1.0 Strict.
Hi, my name's Helga Weber and welcome to my personal site. I'm 23. My first socio-political scandal will happen at the age of 35 and will include men, sushi, an African country, and lots of money. My lover is the greatest. More?
Hi, my name's Helga Weber and welcome to my personal site. I'm 23. My first socio-political scandal will happen at the age of 35 and will include men, sushi, an African country, and lots of money. My lover is the greatest. 
