artist/band: The Civil Wars
telly on: on everything Josh Hutcherson
soundtrack: Summer House - Gold Motel
flick: Breakfast at Tiffany's (1961)
book: Star Girl - Jerry Spinelli


"The fool looks at a finger that points to the sky."

- Amelie





You know I love you, don't be a fool.

Kira de Ocampo. Singer-Songwriter. Creative Writing student in UP Diliman. I am basically a grandma inside a 21-year-old body.



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I had my first KFC Twister just days before today that I am writing this. You know, the Twister everyone’s been talking about? The burrito-like pizza with crunchy chicken and cheesy goodness inside?

Well. I didn’t like it.

Yeah, sure, the pepperoni was semi-awesome, but the chicken went unnoticed. Not to mention the sauce was incredibly dry like it had been cooked days before I ordered it.

And I was so excited about eating my very first KFC Twister, and it just left me in disappointment all thanks to the commercial promising me that it’s the best thing ever.

Now I’m not trying to be a magnificent food critic or anything, but since this post is about what ticks me, or stresses me at that point, then that’s partly where I start.

Life is like eating a KFC Twister. Sometimes, when you expected too much, when you’ve been wishing the sauce wouldn’t be so dry or the chicken half-crunchy, and everything you’ve wished for is exactly what it’s not, then you are sent to a rocket of utter insanity and frustration to a planet that’s gonna blow off any moment now.

And you toss and turn at night; you just couldn’t sleep, just because of that misfire. Oh how you wish you did not expect too much and did not believe too much on the advertisement that shows the pizza slowly being rolled into a burrito and the girl blurting “Sawrap!” at the end of the clip.

Oh how you wish the traffic would not be so evil when you are down to your last minute of having the chance to not be late on an appointment—yet again. Oh how you wish your general subject professor wouldn’t make you feel like you’ve already transferred to their department as a major in it. Oh how you wish your neighbor didn’t have to be so deaf that he couldn’t hear himself singing karaoke blasted to the whole neighborhood or that his stereo isn't louder than the voices in your head.

Oh how you wish the boy who you expected too much to say goodbye to you with that mesmerizing half-smile and that carefully winked eye did not have to be the one who’s leaving you cold down your bones in an incredibly warm summer day when he just passed you by like you do not exist at all so you write about how irrationally inconsistent he was that you practically do not know him anymore when you should be writing the proper way about stress and perhaps moreso dealing with it.

Yes. Stress makes life beautiful.



@KFC, I'm sorry. I still love you. 0 comments back to top?