<body>
the prissy little missy
c'est moi

Justine Marie Santangelo
September 5th, 1990
Spanish/Filipina/Portugese
Artist/musician/student
UNLV (Entertainment Engineering)
reecesaint@yahoo.com

tagboard
let's talk


The Playlist
my songs

Picture - Justine Marie Serrano
Blind - Justine
After Midnight - Justine
Save Your Heart For Me.mp3 - Justine

External Links
you must visit

Multiply
DeviantArt
MySpace Artist
Simply Chic Online Shopping

archives
trip down memory lane

April 2005 May 2005 June 2005 July 2005 August 2005 September 2005 October 2005 December 2005 January 2006 February 2006 March 2006 April 2006 May 2006 June 2006 July 2006 August 2006 November 2006 December 2006 January 2007 February 2007 March 2007 April 2007 June 2007 July 2007 August 2007 September 2007 October 2007 December 2007 January 2008 February 2008 March 2008 April 2008 May 2008 July 2008 August 2008 September 2008 November 2008 December 2008 January 2009 September 2009

Tuesday, February 20, 2007
4:53 AM
Promenade Baptism

The very first I attended to was held last Saturday, Feb. 17, 2007. It was the prom of an exclusive school for boys and I was "lucky" enough to be invited to it. So how was my first prom? DULL. Yes, it was D-U-L-L... Dull...

At first I was excited because, duh, it was going to be my first prom -I was gonna get baptized!- but little did I know that my date was gonna be a furniture [someone who neither moves nor talks; someone who's just there] and as the minutes passed during that "Evening of Stars" (as the prom was entitled), my enthusiasm started fading -fast. From the minute I stepped inside his car until we reached the venue, the only sound I heard from him was "Justine, uhh.. schmmm.. czhchmmhummumm jumm.gum..shumuhhshumuhhh...". During the affair itself, he wasn't so bad. We were finally talking but unfortunately, as much as I tried, I could just not have a decent conversation with him! Other than that, I was very, not-to-mention, unusually reserved that evening. I wanted to dance like crazy but I couldn't because one, I did not know anyone there, and two, my date was such a furniture! The only things moving in his body were his eyebrows & eyelids (seriously, I'd rather dance with an actual furniture than him! It would've been much more fun.)

But despite it all, I bet he tried to keep the evening from being dull... I mean, he took me out after the prom with his friends, bought me ice cream, tried to introduce me and "give" me to his friends, etc... -No, wait. It was still dull. Lol

Anyway lesson learned: The Prom is one of the highlights of your high school life. It is a very special night for you; therefore, spend that evening with people who are special to you as well. Spend that night having fun with your bestfriends, sit on the same table, dance together, go out together after the prom. Also, get a date who is special to you. You have to make sure that you will have fun with your date, that you are comfortable with him, that you can be yourself with him. A little something I learned from my English teacher too: do not take your boyfriend to the prom because that will only bring bad memories in the future >:D. The Prom is a very special night; an event that is so precious; a memory worth keeping forever; so for you kids out there who are just about to have your proms, I leave you with three words: MAKE IT SPECIAL

Thursday, February 08, 2007
5:31 PM
90's Child

When I was a kid, I used to be so addicted to certain TV shows -cartoons mostly. Little Lulu for instance; I used to watch it every single day of the week, and as much in one day. Clarissa in Nickelodeon was also one of my favorite shows & I used to watch it early in the morning before going to school in 3rd grade. I remember waking up at 5am just to watch Josie & The Pussycats in Cartoon Network, & sleeping a little later than usual to watch Clueless at night. Other than TV shows, I used to be so addicted to snacks like Choki Choki, Champola, Chiz Curls, & the like. I'd buy them from school everyday, & sometimes I'd beg my parents to buy me them so I can just bring them to school as my baon. And remember how Polly Pocket used to look like? She used to be so tiny & her homes used to be pocket-sized, you could actually fit them in your bag or pocket if it's big enough. And who could forget how Barbie looked like back then: really tan with blonde hair, her blue eyes were bigger, she didn't have a belly button, & she wasn't as skinny as right now.

Those were the days of childhood fun in the 90's sun. I am a 90's child & very proud of it. Are you a 90's child yourself? Relive it! Reminisce! You can start by visiting Kids Were Us, read the entries, comment on them. It's nice to have someone remember these years for us.

P.S.
You can find the link also on my nav bar under Cara. Yay for the 90's kids!! ^_-

Saturday, February 03, 2007
1:20 AM
Human Barbie Dolls

As kids, we played with our toys, Barbie dolls specifically, and pretended that they were human. We pretended that they could speak, move, think, feel and simply just like us humans. I just finished this book, "Fix" by Leslie Margolis. It's basically all about striving for prefection: striving for perfect grades, perfect records, perfect looks.

Millions of people get plastic &/or cosmetic surgeries every year. Billions of dollars have been spent for these surgeries. Some are successful, some are not. A lot are satisfied, & yet a lot are miserable. Many lives made better, and many lives made worse. Let's face it: we all want to look perfect. We hate what we have, and want what others have. I honestly envy my friend's profile, my cousin's arms, my friend's girlfriend's abs, my teammate's legs -because I don't have them! I've got a stubby, little nose, big, fat & flabby arms, a flat but weird looking tummy, & big, fat legs. I feel that I am short, & that my boobs are too small for the size of my hips; but that's just how I was born. Sure I can fix all these flaws. All it takes is a little surgeries here & there. A nose job, a little meso-lipo, a tummy tuck, breast augs & voila! I'll look perfect, just like Barbie -sexy, plastic, & beautiful... or is she?

Thing is, Barbie is like an epitome of the ideal physique of women: tall, slim, big breasts, big butt, big, blue eyes, a dimpled smile, smooth skin.. but plastic?!? Women get surgeries because they want to look beautiful & perfect. They go through a mass of excruciating pain, saying "It hurts to be beautiful.", and yes! It DOES hurt to be beautiful if you take it as so. Sure I may have gone through surgery & fixed all my flaws, and eventually end-up a walking Barbie doll... a walking Barbie doll... what a dream... beautiful, sexy, smooth and PLASTIC. FAKE. What we see in the media that's "perfect" are just mere epitomes of the ideal figure of women. We need not look like what we see. Besides, the media never obliged us to look exactly like them; they never even threatened us to be exactly like them. What they want is for us to strive achieving our true, inner beauty that is hiding beneath the frizzy hair, the flabs in our bodies, the zits, and basically our imperfections. Strive meaning, to work-out & burn those fats, eat healthy to get rid of those ugly things popping out of your body, learn how to flaunt what you have & learn how to carry yourself. Perfection is nothing but a cliche that is unachievable. You may choose to look extremely beautiful and seem so perfect, but you're all made of plastic; or you can be beautiful but imperfect, but at least you're REAL.

It's funny you know... When we were kids, we wanted our Barbie dolls to become real; and now, we want to transform ourselves into Barbie dolls: pretty, but plastic.

Thursday, February 01, 2007
12:34 AM
Cliques

It's funny how, in one night, I was able to realize which group I really belong to. We had our pre-prom last weekend & I must say that it was a pretty wild party for a bunch of typical high school girls -well for me at least. The minute I stepped out of my car, I bumped into my classmate & her brother, & we hung-out for the 1st 30 mins. Later, her brother's friends & our other classmates who were in that barkada came. I was the only one who wasn't part of that barkada. Then I bumped into one of my old bestfriends from my sophomore year & we hung-out for I guess 20 mins. And then I was back with my classmates. About an hour later the doors were opened & by the entrance I saw one of my current bestfriends along with her teammate & some smart kids in the batch. The minute we entered, the "party girls" of the batch were dancing away & coincidently some of my old good buddies from my sophomore year were part of that group of dancing party girls. She grabbed me & I was dragged into the center. Everyone was dancing ever-so-wildly & I felt really awkward. I tried to dance the way they did but it was just too awkward for me. Uncomfortable, I walked out of the crowd & again stayed with the smart kids. Minutes later, I felt like I was being tossed around by all these different groups in my batch -the party animals, the smart kids, the girl-next-doorsy ones, the jocks, cheerleaders -it was crazy! I got too tired & too confused. I didn't know which group I really belonged to.

I wanted to leave. So in courtesy, I went up to the 1st group I saw to say goodbye, and the 1st group I saw was that barkada in my class. And then came the smart kids & my bestfriend. We were all together -my classmates & my good friends- we hung-out & I stayed a while longer. Growing up, you experience friendships with many different people & it takes so much time to find out who your REAL friends are. One of those in the group of wild, party girls used to be my bestfriend in 2nd grade and now, look at who she is -a popular, party girl who's dreamt by every guy she passes. I went through almost all of them -the jocks, the popular kids, the smart kids, normal/regular kids, out-casts- even to the point of being a loner. I was tossed around in many different cliques. None of these tight friendships lasted.

We try to find ourselves through finding the right clique for us but in the end, the only thing that will actually distinguish our true character is ourselves.