Rock
Is that what most people would think of me?? Hmmmm.... Is it my style? Hmmm.. I may be but I may not be!!!
First stop: Padi's Point at Mall of Asia. It was the reunion of my fourth year class. It had been like almost four years... Right? I don't know---do the math!!! My mind skips the part when I get to compute (unless it is in terms of my allowance!!). One of the first impression I got from my classmates was "WOW!! Rockerrr?!!!"
Huh?!
Um, okay. So we escaped the event because my group of friends, my co-Myrmidons, had to hop--and I mean HOP--out of the place and into another.
Second stop: Embassy. It took a while for us to get inside since there were some technical problems but it became easy for us to get in, particularly Mitch,some other new friend (what was his name again???), and me. All of a sudden, the three of us were part of the "guest list". Of course, I have to thank Yanna's step sister, Ella, and Anne for a very cunning strategy----rock and roll!!!
We climbed the stairs and the beat came louder and louder and before we knew it, we were inside this spectacle of strobe lights, lasers, and unstoppable motions on the music-bathed floor. We found our way into the healthy (and wealthy) crowd and started to do our own thing. Of course I was on my nerdy side for a while as I took note of everything around me and then we started doing our thing on the floor.
Segway: before we came in, our friend David (AKA Ching---David sounds better, eh?) was telling us how some 'rocker' people were teased (verbally attacked and so on) for coming into such place.
I'm no rocker---so why the hell should I care? But was he pertaining to me? Afterall, I "looked" like a (motherfucking) "rocker". It sort of made me feel a little 'in control' when I was on the floor---I ventured not to do much.
It wasn't me. Hell.
Last hop: Cococabana. We finally settled there to spend the rest of the very early morning with the feeling of unsatisfaction since we only get to spend little time in Embassy. There was this one of Ella's friends by the name of Sean who suddenly came to sit beside us at the table and asked if we were 'rockers'. I suddenly thought of throwing the dishes and my Zombie on the floor--but hell no. I simply answered, "no."
All right, wrong adverb. I had a huge question mark on my face and a high-pitched voice when I said it---ready to defend ourselves. In Yanna and David's case, they were accidently wearing black shirts. And well, you know me, I LIKE BLACK. Well, Michelle Madrigal is at another table and she's wearing some friggin' black dress. But she ain't no rocker (I guess!!).
Is black the definition of a rocker??
Hell, no. Then, Sean added if we were some 'emo' or something. "No, no, no, no..." I responded calmly though I was suddenly alarmed by this sudden realization (people think I'm a rocker!!!). We drove home and continued to party inside the vehicle with a loud music (courtesy of the girl called "Kikay"). And hell no shall a rocker dance into the music of N.E.R.D. and Chris Brown in a fucking car like I did!!!
Do I really look like a damn rocker??
No, people of the world, I'm turning down such impression: I'm not a friggin' rocker.
Damn it. Wearing black doesn't make one an emo, a rocker, nor a goth. Get it?? Fine.
Still, who cares?! Fine, go ahead and judge. It's no big deal. It's just that.. Hmmm... Maybe I am a rocker.... Huh... Yeah, maybe...
MAYBE.
First stop: Padi's Point at Mall of Asia. It was the reunion of my fourth year class. It had been like almost four years... Right? I don't know---do the math!!! My mind skips the part when I get to compute (unless it is in terms of my allowance!!). One of the first impression I got from my classmates was "WOW!! Rockerrr?!!!"
Huh?!
Um, okay. So we escaped the event because my group of friends, my co-Myrmidons, had to hop--and I mean HOP--out of the place and into another.
Second stop: Embassy. It took a while for us to get inside since there were some technical problems but it became easy for us to get in, particularly Mitch,some other new friend (what was his name again???), and me. All of a sudden, the three of us were part of the "guest list". Of course, I have to thank Yanna's step sister, Ella, and Anne for a very cunning strategy----rock and roll!!!
We climbed the stairs and the beat came louder and louder and before we knew it, we were inside this spectacle of strobe lights, lasers, and unstoppable motions on the music-bathed floor. We found our way into the healthy (and wealthy) crowd and started to do our own thing. Of course I was on my nerdy side for a while as I took note of everything around me and then we started doing our thing on the floor.
Segway: before we came in, our friend David (AKA Ching---David sounds better, eh?) was telling us how some 'rocker' people were teased (verbally attacked and so on) for coming into such place.
I'm no rocker---so why the hell should I care? But was he pertaining to me? Afterall, I "looked" like a (motherfucking) "rocker". It sort of made me feel a little 'in control' when I was on the floor---I ventured not to do much.
It wasn't me. Hell.
Last hop: Cococabana. We finally settled there to spend the rest of the very early morning with the feeling of unsatisfaction since we only get to spend little time in Embassy. There was this one of Ella's friends by the name of Sean who suddenly came to sit beside us at the table and asked if we were 'rockers'. I suddenly thought of throwing the dishes and my Zombie on the floor--but hell no. I simply answered, "no."
All right, wrong adverb. I had a huge question mark on my face and a high-pitched voice when I said it---ready to defend ourselves. In Yanna and David's case, they were accidently wearing black shirts. And well, you know me, I LIKE BLACK. Well, Michelle Madrigal is at another table and she's wearing some friggin' black dress. But she ain't no rocker (I guess!!).
Is black the definition of a rocker??
Hell, no. Then, Sean added if we were some 'emo' or something. "No, no, no, no..." I responded calmly though I was suddenly alarmed by this sudden realization (people think I'm a rocker!!!). We drove home and continued to party inside the vehicle with a loud music (courtesy of the girl called "Kikay"). And hell no shall a rocker dance into the music of N.E.R.D. and Chris Brown in a fucking car like I did!!!
Do I really look like a damn rocker??
No, people of the world, I'm turning down such impression: I'm not a friggin' rocker.
Damn it. Wearing black doesn't make one an emo, a rocker, nor a goth. Get it?? Fine.
Still, who cares?! Fine, go ahead and judge. It's no big deal. It's just that.. Hmmm... Maybe I am a rocker.... Huh... Yeah, maybe...
MAYBE.
