Cleaning up the closet

I only had one reason for blogging.

It was not the fame.
It was not the popularity.
To be honest, I am satisfied already as soon as I receive the confirmation that my post has gone live.

Over the span of two years, I have joined blogging forums and groups in order to send my voice out there.

This should look like this. That post should look like that. I should gain this much followers. I should connect. I should collaborate.

I joined in. I did what was suggested.
I failed at being a famous blogger and it sucked the life out of me.

Then, I remembered.
I remembered why I was here.
This was not about fame and popularity.
This was not even about getting my voice heard.

I blog because only through my writings can I pour my heart out.
Only through my writings can I be myself.
How ironic could that be when I do not even use my real name.

So, I am starting over.
I am cleaning out my closet.
This will be my last WordPress post.
I will also deactivate my Facebook fan page and account.

But, this is not the end for me.
If you wish to find me, I will still be very active in Instagram at @cavilleta.
For the occasional longer and in-depth post, find my writings on Medium and Twitter at @ca_villeta.
I like those platforms because they are very straightforward in getting my thoughts across. No customization. Just black and white with the occasional color accent. No myriad hashtags.

For those who have supported me, I am humbly thankful, really. I have enjoyed interacting with all of you and I hope this decision of mine will not prevent you from keeping in touch in the future.

Thank you very much and I am officially signing off.

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Would you watch a Black Widow solo movie?

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So I came across this poll on Twitter…

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Screenshot via Twitter @ChrisHewitt

People have been asking for a Black Widow movie for a long time. It had me thinking. Why would you watch a Black Widow solo movie?

Thanks to the Marvel Cinematic Universe, the term ‘Black Widow’ is popularly known as the S.H.I.E.L.D spy and not the ravenous arachnid. Try it. Google ‘Black Widow’. Just that.

Continue reading

The Revenge of the Geeks

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Which Side Are You On?

I just watched the midnight premiere screening of Captain America: Civil War. This is not a review. But, let me tell you. Before that, I just came home from a 16-hour flight. I was awake for more than 24 hours before that. On top of that, I was sleeping at the couch of the local CBTL while waiting for the cinema doors to open.

There was not one dull moment. My eyes were glued to the screen and my heart was doing somersaults. I went home after and I could not get it out of my head.

In short, if you have not watched it yet then go take a hint and please do.

Again, this is not a Civil War review. As I was saying I while ago, I did some late night, post-adrenaline thinking at four in the mourning with my plans on getting back on some shut eye too far from reach.

This is what I thought about then.

I may have made the connotation that Civil War is a great movie. (Honestly, why are you still reading this? Go watch it!) So, a group of exquisitely talented people made that movie possible. This group was funded by a company composed of people who believed in their concept. This company is inspired by the colorful literature that the movie was based upon. (Read it. Seriously. Oh and bring some tissues with you when you do.)

I just thought of what kind of people were they when they were younger. Who were they when they did not have these fancy job titles connected to their names? I just thought. They were geeks.

They were the ones described in cartoons as the kids wearing those thick-rimmed glasses. They were the ones with braces. They were the ones wearing ridiculously pristinely ironed clothes. They were the ones who knows the subject matter better than the teacher. They were the ones who live in their parent’s basement because he spends more time there in front of the computer or the train set than anywhere else in the house. They were the ones being locked inside their own lockers. They were the ones secluded by the group. They were the ones being bullied.

I always say to my friends that this is a great era to be a nerd or a geek or whatever you choose to describe yourself if you relate to this on a personal level. All this awesome popcorn movies, all the amazing technology, all the advancements could not be possible if it were not for those former youngsters who get more wedgies than kisses.

This era is the revenge. I always say that kids nowadays are lucky because smart has become the new sexy (finally). Proclaim that you are a fan of Harry Potter or of Marvel or of Game of Thrones and you will receive appraisal and you would even be more than glad to find a group that shares the same interest as you. Do that in my time and you would have received weird looks and no hope to find your kind.

Yes, this is the revenge of the geeks. This is their superhero story wherein they rise from the turmoil that came with growing up in such condition. They used their abilities to save people and to promote the greater good. They have saved future generations of geeks from experiencing the same fate as what they had experienced. They promoted acceptance and unity everywhere.

I raise my glass/goblet/mug/flute/horn (just choose depending on your fandom) to the geeks. For without them, there will be no Microsoft. There will be no Apple. There will be no Facebook. There will be no Naruto. There will be no Marvel. There will be no hoverboards. There will be no Internet.

So, if you are being shunned and excluded because you are passionate about something that is not the norm of your environment then have patience, work hard and do not fear. Your revenge will come.

What I Love About Storybrooke

Storybrooke like Once Upon A Time Storybrooke. Holler up to my fellow Oncers!!!!

Just kidding, I won’t talk about Storybrooke. I will talk about Steveston, the film site of Once Upon A Time and real-life Storybrooke.

Whenever I am in Vancouver, I make sure that I drop by the very quaint village of Steveston. This is why.

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Pajo's Fish and Chips

And this is why.

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Cod fillet and unli chips

I love it. The best fish and (bottomless) chips that I ever had. Silly me because I only knew that the chips were refillable by my third visit. Freshly battered and fried fish and unlimited chips (not the fastfood kind) is absolutely a great start to a great day.

And I only knew that the town is the film site of Once Upon A Time by my fourth visit.

Another reason why I love Steveston is because I am a vintage and thrift junkie. And they have loads of those shops here. I usually buy books. A hardbound The Fault In Our Stars for one Canadian dollar is definitely a good deal. I also bought this vintage Victorian-style rabbit stuffed toy once. It reminded me of the Velveteen Rabbit.

One more reason why I love Steveston is the cafés and coffee shops. We are not talking about Starbucks although they do have one. We are talking about those local roasters where in they brew their coffee fresh and they make their food in their own kitchens. There are loads to choose from. Even I have not tried it all.

In case you are wondering, yes, Granny’s cafe from OUAT is real. And it looks like this from the inside.

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So different, I know.

The last reason why I love Steveston is because… see for yourself.

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The Public Library on the left and Granny's on the right

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The town is already magical as it is without being the film site of a fantasy TV series. I honestly believe that the town was chosen just because of that. Steveston is a hidden gem, a town that you would not know exist until you hear it from the right people. It is a town that will fill you with wonder… just like Storybrooke.

May I Feel Said He

This poem is my absolute favorite.
Simple words and simple rhymes created by E.E. Cummings to portray a compelling love story. I first read it within the The Love Book application and then I instantly fell in love with how it was written and my heart broke at the same time by the meaning within those words.

Below is my answer to that poem. Enjoy and please do tell me what you think!

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My answer to E.E. Cumming's poem.

This Fasting Could Not Get Any Faster

Lent is finally over and the Holy Week just passed. For the past season, I have refrained myself from eating meat.
Yes, I am a Christian, a Roman Catholic Christian. I find it disturbing how in description that Catholics are separate from Christians, no matter if it may be Protestant, 7th-day Adventist, or whatever. It is in the name. I am a Christian. Anyway…

So, on religious custom, I am not allowed to eat meat on every Friday during the Lenten season.

I have refrained myself from eating rice fir the past two years except for the cravings that happen once or twice in six months. See, I am a Filipino. Rice to is is like burgers to the Americans or noodles to the Japanese. I have stopped eating rice since I started to work and that is an incredible feat in the opinion of other Filipinos. I was always a bread and potato person so it was not that hard a shift.

Anyway, for Lent, I was required not to eat meat during Fridays. Red meat. Chicken and fish is fine. I thought of the task too easy since the idea of fasting is to experience some discomfort in order to appreciate the sacrifice that the Messiah did for us when he died on the cross. Thus, I decided on a no red meat and chicken diet on Friday.

It was a bit hard since chicken can be found everywhere and not all establishment serve fish or vegetables. Then at home, meat will be served so I could not eat. Still, it was just once a week so it was fine.

Then Holy Week came.
I decided to make things harder for me and have a no meat diet for the whole seven days. I would just have fish, seafood, and vegetables.

That was when things got hard.
I had a working layover to Melbourne, Australia. I arrived there on Palm Sunday and left on Holy Wednesday. I was in Australia, the land of Hungry Jacks, Angus Beef, Lord of the Fries, and all things moo. And I decided to go to a no-meat diet. I was doomed.

To make things short, by the end of the layover, I was hungry, cranky, and cravy (craving actually, I just want to keep the rhyme) for my mom’s home cooking.

Yet, I still have three more days. By Monday, I requested for chicken barbeque for lunch.

It was hard to live without meat. For all those who are following a specific diet (e.g. vegan, gluten-free, paleo, etc.) for religious, personal, health, or whatever reason, I salute you for your discipline and perseverance. Now, leave me as I devour this rib-eye steak.

Just Forget That It Hurts

An answer to Can’t Drive 55
Last song that I heard is You, The Room, and The Devil on your Shoulder by As It Is via the Discover Weekly playlist on Spotify. The following is a total work of fiction.

I hate being high. Tried it once. Unicorns. Popsicles. Happy thoughts, hurrah! Then two minutes after, demons. Monsters. Darkness. Nothing. All on repeat. Took the whole night.

Tried it again. Same damn thing. Nope, never again.

Life must have enjoyed seeing me high. You know why? Because even if I don’t take the stuff anymore, it is like the effects always come back.

I hate it. It hurts my mind. I wish I could just sleep it off but then my dreams will be tarnished as well. It is dark and cold.

You know that feeling that you get hurt and you can’t do nothing about it? You can’t scream. You can’t cry. That is what happens when I am high. I can’t just tell people to help me get the demons away.

I don’t get high anymore but I experience the effects almost all the time.

Always her. Her. Her. Her. He talks about her. Her. Her. Her. Her.

How about me, huh? I am here. I always am. I doubt that he talks about me whenever he is with her. Her. Her. Her.

Can’t do a thing about it. All I could do is nod, smile, laugh. Basically, I can only sit down and look pretty. The thing is that I do not think that I look pretty to him.

She is my demon. She is my nightmare. Damn her. Lucky. How about me?

Him? He is my high. Two minutes of unicorns and butterflies before he starts talking about her again. Then the demons start.

Perhaps, I should stop talking to him. Maybe. Just like how I stopped being high.  Then, I could say goodbye to the nightmares and to the demons. Then, she won’t bother me as much.

I tried. I tried ignoring him. Then he would ask what was wrong. How could I possibly tell him? It is like being high all over again. I can’t tell him. I don’t need help. Especially his.

It was the routine. Two minutes of heaven then hours of hell. How lucky she must be. How about me?

Ignoring him was harder than I thought. It was a worse feeling than being on high. It hurts more. Like his absence was itching into my soul, scratching a hole into it. It hurt more.

Lesser than two evils. So, I would be the great gal that listens to him. That awesome one that always supports him. I just have to let it eat me away and just smile until my smile is frozen. Then, maybe. Just maybe. It won’t hurt so bad. Or if I’m lucky, I would forget that I am hurting at all.

Pride and Joy

I have been spending most of my time in my bedrooom lately.

I have rearranged my things for three times already. I have cleaned out my made up desk (which is actually just a small table at the foot of my bed since I do not really have a proper desk) of junk and whatnot. Then, I decided that it would be a bother for me to actually use that desk since it was so low that I had to sit on the floor to use it. In the end, I just stashed all of my writing and art stuff underneath my bed. Don’t fret. I put them in boxes before I did that.

There is also that bookshelf of mine. It is huge. It is taller than me even. But, with my increasing Pop! figure collection, fandom (especially Harry Potter) memorabilia, current book collection (I think 250+ already, have not counted it yet), and those medical books that my mom had that I could not dispose, it became too small to accommodate my needs. I have been thinking of rearranging the whole thing. Sometimes, I just look at it and I get relaxed.

All of my prized physical possessions are in that bedroom. I stumbled upon a question in The Daily Prompt. What is your prized possession? I just could not answer right away. So, I rephrased it. If there would be a fire, what one thing would I carry to safety with me?

Common sense tells me that I would bring my phone. Contacts, photos, documents, and all of my records are in it. Yet, I would not say that my phone is my prized possession. I could have any kind of phone and the purpose would be the same. For me, a prized possession is something that I could not just part with even if it failed to stand the test of time.

My mind drifted to the Elder Wand replica that my brother got me as a college graduation gift. It was my first Harry Potter memorabilia. I have been a fan since the first movie came out. I was not even 10 years old then. I thought it too petty to treasure such a thing so I tried thinking of other things.

Most people would answer something like an old family photo. Or perhaps a signed ball. Or maybe an old note. I do not need to keep an old family photo. My grandfather’s death confirmed that. I do not need a reminder of what they look like. I do not need to be reminder of their impact on my life. I know it just as much as I know my name. I do not have anything that is signed by someone famous. Besides, I do not treasure those kind of things that much. Give me a signed copy of the first Bloomsbury edition of Harry Potter. Trust that it will be taken care of but I would not save it if there would be a fire. Notes? Plenty. They have an impact every time I read one. It brings back emotions and memories long buried. Almost important enough. But not quite. They just make a recall. The initial effect that they had on me has already been instilled into my person.

Back to the wand. Yes, a long piece of molded resin painted and branded. Wow. Let me defend myself.

That wand was the very first gift that I have ever received that I was honestly ecstatic about. My brother had my reaction on record. I was totally amazeballs… Anyway. That wand actually came with a letter…

Now is the time for you to make your dreams come true. But it won’t be easy. Hard work, belief, faith. And one day, life will surprise you. You’ll be living the dream. May this remind you that they come true.

That wand was the embodiment of that letter. It was a promise that the future is magical and I have the power to wield it as how I pleased. I felt powerful whenever I held that wand not because I imagined it to be the actual Elder Wand (but it would be soooo cool if it was) but because I felt that I am the captain of my life. I can cast any spell on it and swish the wand around to spread the magic on my existence and on others as well. I can manipulate anything with my actions and decisions. I can do anything and everything will change. Wielding the most powerful wand in the world is great possibility. The power that I can possess will not only affect me but also others as well. I cannot just think of myself. I have to care for what my power would do to others. For it may be a joy to manipulate others to your whim, it is a greater joy to manipulate the situation to theirs.

That wand is the embodiment of what I am. A mere stick of endless possibilities. That wand is the physicality of what I realized when I first unwrapped that graduation gift. It was okay to be myself. It was okay because the world may say otherwise but those who matter would be there. It was okay to be a nerd or whatever because those people who matter would accept that as that.

That wand is the proof that love is the strongest magic of all. Love is my prized possession.

Look How They Shine

This post is my reply to Daily Post’s Discovery Challenge which is for me to blog about a pique to one of the senses.

So, this is me, naturally, pushing myself to blog something related to one of the hardest senses to describe; hearing. Let me talk about my latest favorite song. Good luck to me…

Guitar strumming

Tap, Tap, tap tap.
Tap, Tap, tap tap.
Tap, Tap, tap tap.
Tap, Tap, tap tap.

The interlude is that simple. A four-tap pattern repeated four times in different tempos to make one cycle. Then, the cycle is repeated four times before the lyrics start.

Space. Love. Color.

Act. Love. Color.
Act. Love. Color.

Beauty. Love. Love.

Then the instrumental continues with four beats repeated four times in four cycles. And then the lyrics continue.

Act. Love. Color.
Act. Love. Color.

Beauty. Love. Sacrifice.

That beautiful ‘four’ piece again. Before the closing lyrics.

Space. Love. Space.
Space. Love. Space.

Space. Love.

I love this song as it is a mix of mellow rock sounds with simple romantic words. It is an oxymoron in itself as to how a hard and cold person is capable of expressing something so soft and warm.

The instrumental is simple. The lyrics are simpler as it is actually repetitive but the content is progressive. It shows the gradual intensity of an emotion that was already there. It exhibits the bounds of the emotion. It has none.

The song is an expression of how something can mean so much to a person to the point of making this great and unspeakable. Call it the epitome of cheesy but that is what you get when you look at the stars at night and all you see is the specks of yellow.