From My Perspective

I hate ringing telephones, especially if i have to answer them. Not knowing who is on the other end just gives me creeps.  But this is exclusive to corporate phones only as many people shares on the same number.  Personal mobile and home phones are less cruel because it is seldom that i will have to talk with strangers through them but office phones are really another story.

I hate plan cancellations, especially if i look forward to the plan, regardless of how positive of negative i feel toward it. I usually set my mind to what i will do for the day, or the week.  A plan, which means it is ’something’ because it is ‘planned’, becomes a highlight of my day and everything else revolves around it so cancellation of it is tantamount to crushing of the foundation of my schedule. Nothing can really ruin my day than this.

I hate people who intrude into our close-group kwentuhans, especially if i and my friend plans to talk about something private.  I know much that addition or subtraction of people change the way conversations go.

I hate crowded restaurants. I am very particular with restau ambience.  I love eating on relaxing restaurants and i am picky with table spots.  I should never be seeing people coming and going when i am eating, it stresses me out.  The lighting and ventilation must be good or else i would never be able to enjoy even the most delectable dish.  But this only applies in restaurants, and to a point, in food courts.  Fastfoods and streetfoods are another story, hey, i am not that impossible.

I hate ill-fitting jeans. That is why i am always in shorts, skirts, or dresses, never in jeans – i am never able to find a perfect pair. I want jeans that hug my thighs, not too fit yet not loose.  The waistband must be stylish yet comfortable.  The pockets must frame my behind in the most perfect form, making it seemingly bigger than real. It must fall exactly on my ankle if the bottom is loose cut, and exactly above it if the form is fit.

I hate singkamas.  I just can’t eat them.

I hate manila air. and i do’t know anybody who loves it.

I hate public speaking. Sorry, ma’am sarile and ma’am adeva.  I just can’t do it without being lost for words, stammering, butterflies in the stomach, and drying of lips.  i just can’t.  But i am never stopping on trying. Even if every time i do, i die.

I hate not being appreciated.