Results for just waiting for it to cool down ... translation from English to Tagalog

so i can go easily
dali dali akong naligo

so i can go to college
bitbit ko ang aking pangarap

i'm still waiting for it to be fixed
nasira ang laptop ko

we do not go with one house,so i want to finish school so i can go home
hindi kami nag sasama sa isang bahay,kaya ang gusto ko maka tapos nang pag aaral para maka gawa ako nang bahay

i'm ready for mute modules so i can go to school i' m going to pass
i 'm ready for mute modules so i can go to school i' m going to pass

we're not that close, so i can go jogging with you, hshs.
we're not that close, para sumama ako sayo mag jogging, hshs.

hi, hurry up, maybe you can become a real man, so what are we waiting for haha, become a man right away so i can sell something to gay people? uwu
hi, bilisan mo, baka pwede kang maging tunay na lalaki, kaya ano pang hinihintay natin haha, maging lalaki ka na agad para may maibenta ako sa mga bakla? uwu!

here in rosales pangasinan our main product here is the tinapa many families earn from this product the mothers help with cleaning and cooking until the fish is smoked will be transferred to the basket for it to cool and others they sell bloated so that they can take something with their family and this is also where they get their daily expenses and this product also helps the unemployed families many families earn to be
dito sa rosales pangasinan ang pangunahing producto namin dito ay ang tinapa maraming pamilya ang kumikita sa productong ito ang mga nanay ay tumutulong sa pag linis at sa pag luto hanggang sa pagpausok ng isda isasalin sa basket para ito ay lumamig at ang iba sila ay nagtitinda ng tinapa upang may maiuwe sila sa kanilang pamilya at dto din sila kumukuha ng pang araw araw nilang gastosin at nakakatulong din ang producto ito sa mga pamilyang walang hanapbuhay maraming pamilya ang kumikita para ma

i'm learning from my mom, because my mom and i are making money haha my friend from manila doesn't even tour with me so i can go to the beach kg for hiking translate
ginapg aralan ko da gani ina, kay maske tsadna lng ina nkaka kwarta ako haha yung friend ko from manila ga kari gapa tour kaya permi mo gd ako mkta sa beach kg sa mga hiking translate

a low art [excerpt from the penelopiad] by margaret atwood (canada) now that i’m dead i know everything. this is what i wished would happen, but like so many of my wishes it failed to come true. i know only a few factoids that i didn’t know before. death is much too high a price to pay for the satisfaction of curiosity, needless to say. since being dead — since achieving this state of bonelessness, liplessness, breastlessness —i’ve learned some things i would rather not know, as one does when listening at windows or opening ot her people’s letters. you think you’d like to read minds? think again. down here everyone arrives with a sack, like the sacks used to keep the winds in, but each of these sacks is full of words —words you’ve spoken, words you’ve heard, wo rds that have been said about you. some sacks are very small, others large; my own is of a reasonable size, though a lot of the words in it concern my eminent husband. what a fool he made of me, some say. it was a specialty of his: making fools. he got away with everything, which was another of his specialties: getting away. he was always so plausible. many people have believed that his version of events was the true one, give or take a few murders, a few beautiful seductresses, a few one-eyed monsters. even i believed him, from time to time. i knew he was tricky and a liar, i just didn’t think he would play his tricks and try out his lies on me. hadn’t i been faithful? hadn’t i waited, and waited, and waited, despite the temptation — almost the compulsion — to do otherwise? and what did i amount to, once the official version gained ground? an edifying legend. a stick used to beat other women with. why couldn’t they be as considerate, as trustworthy, as all-suffering as i had been? that was the line they took, the singers, the yarn- spinners. don’t follow my example, i want to scream in your ears — yes, yours! but when i try to scream, i sound like an owl. of course i had inklings, about his slipperiness, his wiliness, his foxiness, his — how can i put this? — his unscrupulousness, but i turned a blind eye. i kept my mouth shut; or if i opened it, i sang his praises. i didn’t contradict, i didn’t ask awkward questions, i didn’t dig deep. i wanted happy endings in those days, and happy endings are best achieved by keeping the right doors locked and going to sleep during the rampages. but after the main events were over and things had become less legendary, i realised how many people were laughing at me behind my back — how they were jeering, making jokes about me, jokes both clean and dirty; how they were turning me into a story, or into several stories, though not the kind of stories i’d prefer to hear about m yself. what can a woman do when scandalous gossip travels the world? if she defends herself she sounds guilty. so i waited some more. now that all the others have run out of air, it’s my t urn to do a little storymaking. i owe it to myself. i’ve had to work myself up to it: it’s a low art, tale-telling. old women go in for it, strolling beggars, blind singers, maidservants, children — folks with time on their hands. once, people would have laughed if i’d tried to play th e minstrel —there’s nothing more preposterous than an aristocrat fumbling around with the arts — but who cares about public opinion now? the opinion of the people down here: the opinions of shadows, of echoes. so i’ll spin a thread of my own.
isang mababang kwento ng sining sa tagalog