I’m a bad-case insomniac, which is how I even got around to starting this blog. I ran out of things to do to help me fall asleep. I also am manic depressive, absolutely obsessive compulsive and can be such a control freak.
There are moments when I’d just stare at a line in a book or magazine & never really get what it means even after reading it a dozen times.
At some point in the day, every day, I go on HOVER mode. This is when I stare into nothingness and think of … well … nothing.
I’m called by so many other names by different people: Princess (originally by my Dad, but later on by my Grandma and Half-siblings), Darling by my Mom, Sweetheart by my real Brother, Poopie by my Bestfriend and then there’s Bratinella …
My friends say I’m a brat because I live a privileged and sheltered life, I’m overindulged by friends, family, and boyfriends, I was a Daddy’s girl, I can be an utter bitch when I want to be, I pout, sulk, whine and manipulate my way into getting what I want. So I am. Big deal. At least I’m not a hoe.
I’m pretty much a home buddy and I value my privacy.
I love rain when I’m happy and hate it when I’m sad. I am totally fearful of big bodies of water. I cannot stand scary movies or spicy food.
The song Afternoon Delight never fails to perk me up.
I’m not a big believer of Marriage. I think it’s overrated.
I love talking on the phone. A witty conversation is my biggest turn-on.
I’m neither conservative nor promiscuous. But I do not get discomfited by sex talk. This perhaps is why I have many close guy friends.
I have many hang-ups in life which will probably emerge in my future posts, just so you are properly warned.
And they call me Bratinella ... 