figments of imagination

Captain... Captain Jack Sparrow!

2009-11-19T08:58:00.007+08:00

Johnny Depp named People's "sexiest man alive"
Reuters - Thursday, November 19

NEW YORK - "Pirates of the Caribbean" star Johnny Depp was named People magazine's "Sexiest Man Alive" on Wednesday, reclaiming a title he first won in 2003.

Depp, whom People described as "the king of cool with the killer cheekbones," succeeded 2008 winner Hugh Jackman. Other stars who have received the honor twice include George Clooney and Brad Pitt.

"Whether it's onscreen in roles like Captain Jack Sparrow in the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise or at home with his family on their private Bahamian island, the 46-year-old father of two with 25 years in show business still reigns as Hollywood's most irresistible iconoclast," People said in a statement.

Past winners include Matt Damon in 2007, George Clooney in 2006, Matthew McConaughey in 2005, Jude Law in 2004, Ben Affleck in 2002, Pierce Brosnan in 2001 and Brad Pitt in 2000.

two birthdays and Gabriel Garcia Marquez

2009-11-11T16:54:00.001+08:00

it's my mother's birthday tomorrow, but i will be out of town until saturday for some freakin' training i wish i had experienced before when i was still showing some vigor at work. it looms in me a feeling of guilt, especially now because it is only her and me in our house, and obviously there's no one left with her on that special day. and i am more saddened by the fact that i could not even dare to back out, and she sure as hell won't let me do so, save some considerations to our department that has a battalion of officers: the boss and the weary researcher.

birthdays, for me, are more than mere calendar marks calling forth fancy celebrations of some sort. i don't know if this is peculiar to me, but i feel a sense of sympathy and/or sorrow for someone on the day of his birthday. it's as if i tend to assume that that particular person is so sad, everybody needs to partake in a joyous diversion for the celebrator to have something to compensate for those youthful years disappearing right before his eyes. and that compels me to do even the smallest thing i could or give, be it serious or just to make that person laugh, or even smile upon knowing that there is someone who did not fail to remember (well, in some cases i do. you know me; i'm the personified Dory). that's why for those dates i will never forget, being unable to give or even do the simplest thing, and worse, being not there for them as they hit that milestone in their lives becomes a grave emotional distress. it depresses the hell out of me.

today is one of those special dates. it's someone's birthday, and i don't even know where that someone is... to you, wherever you are and whoever the devil you are with, i wish you a happy birthday.

***

anyway, to make amends for the "might have beens" haunting me every single minute, i'm treating myself with excessive indulgence of Gabriel Garcia Marquez's genius. he triggered in me an emotional impact of overwhelming admiration and respect for his poetic diction, that i could not seem to agree more on whatever there is that his thoughts inflict upon me. he is my Pablo Neruda when it comes to novels. my first intimate encounter with the pleasures of his words was when i read Memories of My Melancholy Whores. on that first romance, i learned to love Marquez as another author of my emotions. what more in my maddened soul can Love in the Time of Cholera enkindle? i am just on some thirty pages from the cover, and i couldn't help falling in his poetic spell, from the lucidity of his realities beyond human comprehension to his eloquence in human love...

"With her Florentino Ariza learned what he had already experienced many times without realizing it: that one can be in love with several people at the same time, feel the same sorrow with each, and not betray any of them. Alone in the midst of the crowd on the pier, he said to himself in a flash of anger: 'My heart has more rooms than a whorehouse.'"
— Love in the Time of Cholera

"Neither could have said if their mutual dependence was based on love or convenience, but they had never asked the question with their hands on their hearts because both had always preferred not to know the answer."
— Love in the Time of Cholera

"He was aware that he did not love her. He had married her because he liked her haughtiness, her seriousness, her strength, and also because of some vanity on his part, but as she kissed him for the first time he was sure there would be no obstacle to their inventing true love. They did not speak of it that first night, when they spoke of everything until dawn, not would they ever speak of it. But in the long run, neither of them had made a mistake.
— Love in the Time of Cholera"

"Sex is the consolation you have when you can't have love"
— Memories of My Melancholy Whores

"We men are the miserable slaves of prejudice, but when a woman decides to sleep with a man, there is no wall she will not scale, no fortress she will not destroy, no moral consideration she will not ignore at its very root: there is no God worth worrying about."
— Love in the Time of Cholera

"I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close."
— One Hundred Years of Solitude

"To him she seemed so beautiful, so seductive, so different from ordinary people, that he could not understand why no one was as disturbed as he by the clicking of her heels on the paving stones, why no one else's heart was wild with the breeze stirred by the sighs of her veils, why everyone did not go mad with the movements of her braid, the flight of her hands, the gold of her laughter. He had not missed a single one of her gestures, not one of the indications of her character, but he did not dare approach her for fear of destroying the spell."
— Love in the Time of Cholera

"He is ugly and sad... but he is all love."
— Love in the Time of Cholera

"...and both of them remained floating in an empty universe where the only everyday & eternal reality was love..."
— One Hundred Years of Solitude

"It was a meditation on life, love, old age, death: ideas that had often fluttered around her head like nocturnal birds but dissolved into a trickle of feathers when she tried to catch hold of them."
— Love in the Time of Cholera

"It was inevitable: the scent of bitter almonds always reminded him of the fate of unrequited love."
— Love in the Time of Cholera

"Perhaps this is what the stories meant when they called somebody heartsick. Your heart and your stomach and your whole insides felt empty and hollow and aching."
— Collected Stories

...and so on, as every page gives me another quote to keep and live by.

now i know

2009-10-23T12:23:00.001+08:00

The German educator Friedrich Wilhelm Froebel (1782-1852) is the father of the Kleinkinderbeschaftig-ungsanstalt (institution where small children are occupied). The name, too long even for the Germans, quickly shrank to Kindergarten (garden for children).

Froebel wanted his school to be a garden where children unfolded as naturally as flowers.

---------------------------------------------------------
Excerpted from Compton's Interactive Encyclopedia

so that's why.... hehe. ok, etymology. :p

one thing that made me happy amid all these

2009-10-01T16:03:00.001+08:00

it was not my birthday yesterday, but i received a gift anyway. it was a box from heaven with a familiar handwriting on one side. i told myself, “that must be the books.” and i was definitely right! courtesy of my cousin, TJ, i now have new additions to my book collection, particularly, Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s Love in the Time of Cholera, Laura Esquivel’s Like Water for Chocolate, and Alan Lightman’s Einstein’s Dreams, plus another two, which i forgot. it was the first time a big heartfelt smile broke across my face since a mixture of everything bad shattered my faith in life.

typhoons are in no way uncommon in any land, save for those dry countries in which storms are loose grains of sharp sand, though what we are used to are not as rampaging as this last one. a month’s amount of rain in a day’s downpour. hours of wailing and pleading for help. hundreds of bodies buried in the mud, houses broken down, homes shattered. days of bleak darkness and mortal fear. weeks of search and recovery. months of misery and famine. years of mourning and haled recuperation… and a scar in the face of this country to last a lifetime.

if there is one good thing this calamity has brought up, that would be the universal feeling of outpouring concern, which compelled us all to move and lend our hands to people who we know are practically within our reach. but, would we care this much if it happened somewhere else far from our roots? as what my friend, Jaycee, and i were discussing the other night, everything becomes a matter of proximity. people don't really care unless it's happening right in their own backyard. i just hope this disaster would serve its purpose of reminding us, dear dwellers of the earth, to stop complaining about the world deteriorating right before our eyes and start doing something about it. is this exactly what we really dreamed of when we gripped on a frantic swirl of transforming this place into a bricked society, under the mantle of our desires to live conveniently? i don’t see any convenience in this. we might be able to move faster today, only to spend our spare time on things that matter less in our lives. and i’m guilty of drinking all night and slacking off in front of the television or this darn computer!

each of us has a typhoon of his own, be it financial instability, emotional turmoil, or even life crisis. what we often do not realize is that, just like the victims, anyone is a potential sufferer, and unless we initiate changes, tragedies will continue to hound us.

from a 'taxi ride' story

2009-09-22T14:46:00.001+08:00

"Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here we might as well dance."

poem of the week

2009-09-18T10:25:00.000+08:00

If You Forget Me
Pablo Neruda

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine

anak ng ungas naman oh!

2009-09-15T00:05:00.001+08:00

napaka-indolent/useless/unproductive ko these days... ok, may masabi lang.

a poetic description of poetry itself by the greatest romantic poet of all time

2009-09-07T18:04:00.003+08:00

(Neruda's somehow personal yet universal account of poetry)

Poetry
Pablo Neruda

And it was at that age ... Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don't know how or when,
no they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me.

I did not know what to say, my mouth
had no way
with names,
my eyes were blind,
and something started in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
deciphering
that fire,
and I wrote the first faint line,
faint, without substance, pure
nonsense,
pure wisdom
of someone who knows nothing,
and suddenly I saw
the heavens
unfastened
and open,
planets,
palpitating plantations,
shadow perforated,
riddled
with arrows, fire and flowers,
the winding night, the universe.

And I, infinitesimal being,
drunk with the great starry
void,
likeness, image of
mystery,
felt myself a pure part
of the abyss,
I wheeled with the stars,
my heart broke loose on the wind.

behind distant hills

2009-08-31T03:20:00.005+08:00

you couldn't see the whole of a mountain once you're in it.
hence, you're bound to stay away
forever, if you want to get hold of its beauty.
and when it is soon out of view
it only gets more and more vivid
as new eyes could now paint
an image
soft as silent tears,
coming down freely
under the influence
of gravity
and infinite memories.

The one that got away

2009-08-19T10:59:00.003+08:00

i've read this about a year ago... and having it pass my sight this morning for the second time, mmm... i just thought it would be nice to share it! :)

The one that got away
Source: The Manila Times
By: Mark J. Macapagal

In your life, you'll make note of a lot of people. Ones with whom you shared something special, ones who will always mean something. There's the one you first kissed, the one you first loved, the one you lost your virginity to, the one you put on a pedestal, the one you're with...and the one that got away.

Who is the one that got away? I guess it's that person with whom everything was great, everything was perfect, but the timing was just wrong. There was no fault in the person, there was no flaw in the chemistry, but the cards just didn't fall the right way, I suppose.

I believe in the fact that ending up with someone, finding a longtime partner that is, does not lie merely in the other person. I can actually argue that an equal part, or maybe even the greater part, has to do with the matter of timing. It has to do with you being ready to settle down and commit to someone in a way that goes beyond the little niceties of giddy romance.

How often have you gone through it without even realizing it? When you're not ready to commit in that mature manner, it doesn't matter who you're with, it just doesn't work. Small problems become big; inconsequentials become dealbreakers simply because you're not ready and it shows. It's not that you and the person you're with are no good; it's just that it's not yet right, and little things become the flashpoint of that fact.

Then one day you're ready. You really are. And when this happens you'll be ready to settle down with someone. He or she may not be the most perfect, they might not be the brightest star of romance to ever have burned in your life, but it'll work because you're ready. It'll work because it's the right time and you'll make it work. And it'll make sense, it really will.

So that day comes when you're finally making sense of things, and you find yourself to be a different person. Things are different, your approach is different, you finally understand who you are and what you want, and you've become ready because the time has truly arrived. And mind you, there's no telling when this day will come. Hopefully you're single but you could be in a long-term relationship, you could be married with three kids, it doesn't matter. All you know is that you've changed, and for some reason, the one that got away, is the first person you think about.

You'll think about them because you'll wonder, "What if they were here today?" You'll wonder, "What if we were together now, with me as I am and not as I was?" That's what the one that got away is. The biggest "What if?" you'll have in your life.

If you're married, you'll just have to accept the fact that the one that got away, got away. Believe me, no matter how fairy tale you think your marriage is, this can happen to the best of us. But hopefully you're mature enough to realize that you're already with the one you're with and this is just another test of your commitment, one which will just strengthen your marriage when you get past it. Sure, you'll think about him/her every so often, but it's alright. It's never nice to live with a "might have been," but it happens.

Maybe the one that got away is the one who's already married. In which case it's the same thing. You just have to accept and know that your memories of that person will probably bring a nice little smile to your lips in the future when you're old and gray and reminiscing.

But if neither of that is the case, then it's different. What do you do if it's not yet too late? Simple...find him, find her. Because the very existence of a "one that got away" means that you'll always wonder, what if you got that one?

Ask him out to coffee, ask her out to a movie, it doesn't matter if you've dropped in from out of nowhere. You'd be surprised, you just might be "the one that got away" as well for the person who is your "the one that got away."

You might drop in from out of nowhere and it won't make a difference. If the timing is finally right, it'll all just fall into place somehow and you know, I'm thinking, it would be a great feeling, in the end, to be able to say to someone, "Hey you, you're the one that almost got away."

why does 28 always have to be a lonely day?

2009-07-28T17:48:00.000+08:00

i don't know. all i know is just it's too boring to drink all alone on a 28.

walk the talk

2009-07-12T10:26:00.001+08:00

this is an email shared by Niko Papasideris, a not-so-new indie recording artist from Nashville, TN, whom i met on MySpace some years ago. i admit, i do not entirely agree with the wordplay, but hey, it's another way of looking at the road ahead!

****************************************************************
Why I Have No Goals
Roy H. Williams

"Goal," in my experience, is a favorite word of people who talk and dream and dream and talk. And then they get together to "network" with other talkers. There's always a lot of noise in these meetings but it's unlikely that anything of consequence is going to happen. People who chatter about goals are rarely willing to die on that mountain.

I have no goals. But I do have plans.

A plan puts you in motion toward a destination. The destination you choose is irrelevant. It is (1.) motion, (2.) determination and (3.) commitment that separate destination-reaching explorers from goal-setting chipmunks.

Count the cost, explorer. "Am I willing to die on this mountain?"

A goal without a plan is wishful thinking.
A plan without action is self-delusion.

Here are three questions I'd like to ask:

1. What are you trying to make happen?
2. How will you measure success?
3. What's the first thing you need to do to get started?

no more tagay for me?

2009-07-11T20:26:00.002+08:00

i can't believe it, but my vice is taking its toll on me this early. i miss my bad-ass alcohol tolerance because now it only takes a week of stress and three hours of unlimited shots to knock me dead. my lungs are also getting weaker. i was not like this before.

i know i'm not 100% healthy and that i should be taking medications of some freakin' sort, but i just don't think i can give up my vice/s at once and go cold turkey. god can i imagine it sending me fatal seizures! but the thing is, now i have to do it in moderation, else i'll wreck my nerves and go all the way six feet below the ground. (mmm.. why is it always six? why not seven or eight?)

if there is any absurd principle behind this equally absurd thinking, that would be the love of life. yes, i love being alive, however ridiculous it may sound, and i don't want to spend my entire life worrying about things, so i'd rather do anything that affords enjoyment whenever i feel like doing it. i'm going to die early, anyway. but of course i am also familiar with the word "control" and i know when to hit that "moderate button" on. i'm still not worrying that much, but i'm starting to feel something funny in my body, plus my eyebags have sagged down the floor—it's the final bitch slap!

in the course of wandering

2009-07-05T21:18:00.003+08:00

memory, too, is made of water. earth is both hard and malleable, air fills all space. but water, in taking the shape of the vessel it occupies, is of infinite shape.
because memory encompasses all elements, it, too, is eternal, it includes both origin and destination, the past and the future.

-Rio Alma

a carnival friday

2009-06-28T13:50:00.001+08:00

i had a very disturbing Friday morning. believe me. it was my third day as a slacker-no-more and it was supposed to be a great day because during Fridays we are allowed to move away from looking like poor corporate slaves. i could wear by favorite black Tootsie Roll vintage shirt and maong pants, and just feel comfortable without any disturbing collar or blistering sandals.

the first thing i heard on the radio was the mournful passing away of Michael Jackson. i mean, i don't know him personally, but no kidding, i was really affected. maybe it's all because of—yes—him and his songs playing a big part of my childhood. you know me, i'm a fan of classic 70s to 90s music, and i can be a human music library of these decades. my childhood was fruitfully spent discovering things on my own while listening to old songs instead of playing patintero outside (sadly, i never learned to play it well). anyway, most of Jacko's socially-conscious pop music and love songs, i grew up with and learned to love. i remember making my first cross stitch design of a world with a band-aid plastered onto it and a small caption saying, "Heal the World". oh c'mon! i was idealistic even when i was eight! and now i'm getting even more affected while listening to my cousin's MJ playlist... i'm now on Gone Too Soon. it depresses the hell out of me. some of my favorites are Heal the World, Will You Be There, Man in the Mirror, Ben, I'll Be There, She's Out of My Life, I just Can't Stop Loving You, The Girl is Mine, and the list goes on. he's not my most favorite singer, though, but he's one of those, and indeed, most of my favorite songs are from him. i'm surely gonna miss his trademark—the Moonwalk. god was he a great performer!

then there are tributes everywhere, while when Michael Jackson was still alive, people loathed him. i say, when you like someone because he is a great artist, just like him because of that. you don't give a shit on what's he gonna do with his personal life. until now i still hold on to Dr. House's words: "You're dying and suddenly everybody loves you." sad but true.

so off i went to work and hardly found a good spot on the railway train. it was 7:30 a.m.—a crucial hour—and there were only few carriages making their rounds from North Avenue to Taft and vice versa! what do you expect? i just stood still in front of the crowd and found myself being pushed inside the vehicle... no effort at all! when it finally came to Kamuning station, i was astounded by the immense crowd that fell flat on my sight. god was it so overfilled, i could hardly find my way out! then on the highway was a mad congestion as if there was an assembly of some sort. i felt crazy! but the agitation didn't stop there. going down the station, i found myself in a constant elbow fight, trying to go against the current of other MRT patrons dismally lined up in two for single-journey tickets... and in between those lines was a lady lying flat on her back with either arm under her head, as if she was in the middle of a sweet dream. and she was in between the lines, for Chrissake! oh well, i don't really understand what's happening with the world today.

and about what i did at work? don't ask. i don't even know what it is. :)

pure scribbles

2009-06-19T01:22:00.001+08:00

it's been a long while since i last had this urge to stick my thoughts on this darn-slash-newly-dressed-slash-everything-gets-confusing blogsite. i don't know. my friend Joycee even told me maybe it's because blogging is a thing lazy bums like us are doing all day that perhaps it's a way of detaching and finally freeing myself from this slothful post-graduation stage. i still don't know. put my two cents on the idea that blogging is what i usually do when i'm fired up with loads of work, and that being a three-month-old slacker is finally taking its toll rotting my very own brain. (oh well, i'm back to this blogging craze!)

i want to write about something. i really do. in the past weeks, i got to discover a lot of things which i would love to write about: poems, books, movies, issues, Johnny Depp, and the list goes on.. strangely, though, this want never turned itself into something similar to must, need, or even will. i just took the pleasure of being the sole spectator on a movie or book i was indulging into. i'm a fancier for these things. you take me into something you would like me to see, and you would readily know if i liked it or not. i'm a good liar but when it comes to compliments and adoration, i'm a first-rate jerk.

anyway, the last time i had a good shot of philosophical, better yet call it larger-than-life conversation, was long before my other friend Jaycee would fly to Dumaguete for his further intellectual pursuit. god, i miss it when i'm with someone i can share my thoughts with. most of the time when i finish reading a book, i impulsively turn ecstatic that i find just about anyone i could discuss my sentiments with; and with a lousy pick, i usually end up saying crap and suddenly wanting to exterminate the person whom i'm having a hard time explaining one times one with. that sure was selfish of me, but how can i help it? i'm excited and ecstatic, i could even kill a cat.

on reading and finding a good read

exactly a month ago, i bought this very good book, Catcher in the Rye, by J.D. Salinger. if you've read that, too, then probably you would know what's with all this cursing i'm in right now. that's what you call a book. it's not just because it's a pile of printed materials bound on a fancy cover and all that stuff, but it's the interaction with the brain that matters the most. sorry, but this is definitely not the same with Twilight. this, in fact, is what i couldn't understand with people today. yeah, maybe they're in to something like leveraging their reading habits, that taste will eventually develop in time and whatever, but, isn't it good if they start from something great? i know it's too early for new book enthusiasts to swim into the thoughts of Albert Camus, but at least they can start with something light yet spectacular as The Little Prince or To Kill a Mockingbird. i remember the time we were assigned to do a book review of Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck. so we went to this bookstore in a mall and nearly everyone was screaming their lungs out upon knowing that another saga of this Twilight thing was "available, so hurry and grab your own copy now!" darn did they go gaga in front of the Twilight shelf that they looked like a bunch of asylum patients hugging their copies all the way to the cashier. it's depressing, though.

finding a good book is hard, but finding out if a book is good is an entirely different story. as what our review class professor imparted, "You don't have to eat the whole egg to tell if it's rotten." i thought it was from Ernest Hemingway. i sure have it in my notes, but it's from Joseph Parisi anyway, and i don't know the guy. my mistake. good thing we were not given objective tests in that subject, though. in my case, and i know it's also the same with yours or some of you, at the very least, chasing your study (in this case, READING) spirits is quite a hard job. most of the time, especially when you're reading a novel or literature of some sort, the story goes all the way confusing as it grows and sets out different branches of thought you wouldn't understand in the first place what the hell they are for in the story. some books i left half-read because of this. but one sunny day (oh, i'm trying to be poetic), i heard from this bookstore-sponsored radio segment what i needed to learn in the course of reading. "Read. Just keep on reading. Never force yourself to understand the book chapter by chapter. Later on you will come to a point where everything will just fall into the right place, and soon you'll realize why some things needed be there." how i loved these words! this is the same thing i experienced while reading Of Mice and Men. just for the sake of reading it and being able to cook up my own thoughts about the book, i did, and when i came to that revelation part, i nearly got killed with it! it was brilliant. only a genius like Steinbeck can seize readers by the throat like that.

indeed, in a good story, there is a purpose for every word. sometimes you can feel that they're only there to arouse emotions and all, but more than anything, symbolic representations are there to build up the story. they are, in another sense, its foundation. so read. it's a good investment.

one thing about the grownups... and us

last night i was teaching my grandmother how she could put the "my webcam" window on top of the other applications so she could see herself on the computer screen. make it more complex with yahoo messenger photo sharing. it was a pretty hard task, me teaching her about computer stuff and all, and especially because we were just talking online. she hardly even knew any part of the computer, so i had to explain everything, even how a touchpad looks and works and all. i was like goin' back to my old job of explaining things to customers when i was still in that darn call center. but it felt good anyway. not the call center job (my goodness!), but that thing between me and my lola. it's not just because her blood runs through my veins that i had to be patient with her and all. it's the same thing when i was still teaching my mother how to use the computer. patience to the test. but isn't it great, the reversal of roles? how they patiently taught us to walk.. read and write.. and now it's our turn to introduce them to the things that are new to them, like computers and cellphones. it's pure bliss!

one more thing about the grownups... and us

this one is not good, not even funny. and this is the type of grownups i wouldn't even understand. i once had this conversation with two people about relationships, marriage and all. i finally said that i don't want to be beholden to nothing and to no one, and that i don't even see the idea of marriage as glamorous as others do. and so they went on saying, "Bata ka pa. Haha. (with 'haha', believe me) Bata ka pa nga." i nearly poked their eyes out with a pen. personally, i'm open with the idea of spending each other's lives together without marriage, and they were saying that i'm a kid?! c'mon! i don't even like the thought of me doing other person's bed, preparing his breakfast, putting on his tie and all. it sucks! and mind you, annulment is way more expensive than a wedding. maybe the guys i talked to and i we're not on the same page when it comes to things like this. and maybe i would change preferences come some enlightening years or when i just feel like marrying. who knows? but the thought of people saying that i'm still a kid surely gets to my nerves. just because what i believe to be true is different from the truth other people embrace does not mean that one has the right to say that i'm just a kid. right? that's why we were given our own bodies, and brains, for that matter. this would surely be a sad, boring place if all of us were to think the same way.

some grownups still have to grow up.

one last thing about the grownups... and us

i'm not dropping any name. but to say that i wasted four years of my life for enrolling a course that is not nursing, which Person A wanted me to take to have an easy ticket to America, is a lousy remark. i love the degree i have right now, and i know i would have other means of going abroad. i also understand that Person A only wanted the best for me (at least the best that he thinks is best for me), but to say "WASTED FOUR YEARS"? that's extremely annoying.

grownups are sometimes lousy speakers. one must not listen to them all the time.. and, indeed, it will take eons for them to grow up.

for we are all lovers of words

2009-04-27T11:21:00.001+08:00

Since Feeling is First
E.E. Cummings

since feeling is first
who pays any attention
to the syntax of things
will never wholly kiss you;

wholly to be a fool
while Spring is in the world

my blood approves,
and kisses are a better fate
than wisdom
lady i swear by all flowers. Don't cry
- the best gesture of my brain is less than
your eyelids' flutter which says

we are for each other; then
laugh, leaning back in my arms
for life's not a paragraph

And death i think is no parenthesis

___________________________________________________

The Theory of Absence
By Dunya Mikhail
Translated by Elizabeth Winslow

The Hypothesis: I am tense and so are you.
We neither meet nor separate.

The desired result: We meet in the absence.

The proof: As tension turns people into arcs, we are two arcs.
We neither meet nor separate (the hypothesis)
so we must be parallel.
If two parallel lines are bisected by a third line
(in this case, the line of tension)
their corresponding angles must be equal (a geometrical theorem).
So we are congruent (because shapes are congruent
when their angles are equal)
and we form a circle (since the sum
of two congruent arcs
is a circle).
Therefore, we meet in the absence
(since the circumference of a circle
is the sum of contiguous points
which can each be considered
a point of contact).

___________________________________________________

A Boundless Moment
Robert Frost

He halted in the wind, and -- what was that
Far in the maples, pale, but not a ghost?
He stood there bringing March against his thought,
And yet too ready to believe the most.

"Oh, that's the Paradise-in-bloom," I said;
And truly it was fair enough for flowers
had we but in us to assume in march
Such white luxuriance of May for ours.

We stood a moment so in a strange world,
Myself as one his own pretense deceives;
And then I said the truth (and we moved on).
A young beech clinging to its last year's leaves.

a very creamy chocolate

2009-04-27T10:39:00.004+08:00

they say chocolates are aphrodisiac. if you'll ask why a lover gives you a whole box, then at least now you know.

a part-"Como Agua Para Chocolate" (Like Water for Chocolate) and part-"Dream of a Ridiculous Man", this screenplay of Joanne Harris's novel, "Chocolat" unleashes the roughness and sweetness of life through the story of an unmarried mother, Vianne Rocher (Juliette Binoche), whose wanderlust has blown her into a traditional French village set in a bygone era of innocence and simplicity, inadvertently awakening its sleeping desires and passion. by putting up a chocolate shop across the church, she found herself at the center of gossips as the neighborhood becomes curious of her resistance to follow the norms, as well as her refusal to attend mass.

traveling with her dead mother's ashes, Vianne darted into the lives of religious and conservative villagers who are either long-repressed or faithfully trying to keep up with the collectively-accepted form of morality, dictated by Comte Paul, the village head. played by Alfred Molina, 2005 MTV Movie Awards for Best Villain nominee for his portrayal of Doc Ock in Spiderman 2, the ever righteous and reserve Comte Paul, who's muddled by his own busted-up family affairs and constrained by the limits of what he knew was best for everyone, would do anything to keep the village's inherited pattern of thought, as he makes a slick villain of himself through exercising authoritative control over their new young parish priest, Pierre Henri (Hugh O'Conor), taking part as far as to edit or even write his sermons, and urging people to despise the threatening influence of the radical Vianne. people are compelled to confess and repent for the slightest offense, and even for their so-called "too much indulgence" in chocolates, as if it would contaminate their spirits.

the way the churchgoers passively abide by their traditional guiding principles reminds us of the dear Miss Maudie Atkinson in Harper Lee's "To Kill a Mockingbird" as she recounts to Scout Finch her observations of how people seem to live in a circus: "There are just some kind of men who - who're so busy worrying about the next world they've never learned to live in this one, and you can look down the street and see the results."

when Roux (the demigod Johnny Depp) and other gypsies—otherwise called pirates—sailed into the rivers of the village and found a good spot in its banks, Vianne forged friendship with them, which exasperated the comte and the townspeople. their ire called forth a protest against her and her chocolateria, as summarized in a pretext of the comte's ordinance, "Boycott Immorality." Roux, the only person whom Vianne fails to guess his favorite chocolate, offered to repair the chocolate shop's door, which is expressive of shielding Vianne from the persistent unjustified criticisms of the people who are reluctant to accept changes and new ideas.

as for me (yup, that's right, FOR ME; don't protest), any movie with Johnny Depp in it is a good film, though there was not enough of him in this story. working again with Director Lasse Hallstrom after "What's Eating Gilbert Grape", Depp exuded his distinguishing trait as an actor once more in this poetic story of people seeking acceptance and a sense of normality.

aside from the use of food as symbolic imagery, the story partly resembles "Como Agua Para Chocolate" in terms of magic realism, although in this movie, it is very lightly unfolded. at the same rate, Dostoyevsky's short story only does affect the screenplay throughout the entire extent of self-liberation. a traffic of thoughts is revealed to one's judgment, bordering feminism and Christianity.

"Chocolat" oozes in fragrance and sweetness with every delicate scene of melting and molding chocolates, and at the same time, this concoction of sweet tales about individuality, family, and coexistence has a fairy tale look and feel, and is narrated on a light, enchanting note. the peculiar thing about this, though, is the tralatitious spreading of chocolate syrup on every dish, as seen on the birthday of Vianne's landlady, who later on became her friend. spending the rest of the party on a decadent evening of dance at Roux's boat—a pre-taste of the fertility feast on the coming Easter Sunday—is not surprisingly bothersome for the comte and his followers, and which they also find extremely immoral. the viewer soon learns how strong his words impact his subordinates. however, in the attempt to topple down the chocolateria, the comte finds himself caught in a dilemma of his own cynicism and blinded by the same idea he is selling.

and although Vianne was only brought to that land by a sly northern wind, bearing her mother's kismet, dispensing ancient cacao remedies and traveling forever with the wind, she finds her roots in the village in an enchanting tale of standing up for one's belief and finally, the glorious feeling of being released.

"I think that we can't go around... measuring our goodness by what we don't do. By what we deny ourselves, what we resist, and who we exclude. I think... we've got to measure goodness by what we embrace, what we create... and who we include."- Pierre Henri

oftentimes, a movie with what seems to be a simple plot on the surface turns out to be something wonderful, and it's amazing how people can make sense so deep and philosophical with the use of sweet little things like chocolates. four out five stars for "Chocolat"!

*photo from The Reader's Eye
*my god, this has 913 words in it, and this is not required! (longer than what i passed in our Reviews class. haha!) :p
*oh well, i'm soooooooo bored...

sometimes it's also in the name

2009-04-27T10:37:00.000+08:00

i have a theory. a very lame theory. for years i've been trying to formulate a fail-proof technique on how to gain favorable outcomes from almost everything i do, although i know things don't always come as planned and expected. i was just thinking, is there something in me that dictates what i would become, as well as the actual part of getting there? above all, i admit that the basic equation is effort plus a little luck plus what you know and who you know. but, could it be that it is also in the genes? zodiac signs? size and shape? color of the eyes? birthmarks? or even in names?

i can't help sharing my self-woven fact that the most successful people (here in the Philippines at the very least) have peculiar names or those that are sure to ring a bell on one's ears. of all the names i've heard, it is almost always true that either real strength or metaphoric rays is radiated through one's name. here, people with non-generic names, i think, have an inherent "plus 50 points" or bluntly said, are 50% ahead in terms of making and building a name.

in the literature and arts, we have Bienvenido Lumbera, Nicomedes Márquez Joaquin, Virgilio S. Almario, F. Sionil Jose, Mario Eric Gamalinda, Mauro Malang Santos, Juan Nakpil, Levi Celerio, Lucrecia Kasilag, Lino Brocka, and Ang Kiukok, to name a few. in politics, it is pretty obvious that their names are as strange as their personas. how these corrupt politicians kill and steal our money and come home to dine with their families at night is just bemusing! but, yes, their names are strange and they are famous.

my very lame theory was somehow supported by a blog i've seen on www.good.is, which is a well-substantiated explanation of how names eventually affect the lives of people in terms of their chosen careers, and i had a good laugh discovering that there are actually people whose names have amusing connections with their professions. read and find out if you are one.

What's in a name? Sometimes, a job
by Mark Peters

The Synchronous World of Aptronyms

Have you heard about the gardener named Alan Bloom or the defense attorney Scott Free? How about the brilliant professor of genetics, Dr. Murray Brilliant? Or the winner of the the Nez Perce County Fair hog-calling contest, Jolee Bacon?

Such perfect marriages of profession and handle sound like old-fashioned jokes from a paleo-comedic era.

Nuh-uh.

These kismetic combos of name and job are truth, not truthiness. Preposterously well-named people like Rita Book the librarian and Diane Berry the mortician have aptronyms—names that are particularly suited to a person’s profession. Folks have been wondering about “nominative determinism” and the “name-career hypothesis” for decades, and collecting the words also called aptonyms, jobonyms, namephreaks, perfect fit last names, and euonyms is a perennial hobby of word-herders.

The word aptronym dates back to at least 1925, and no less respectable a publication than New Scientist has been the home of much aptronym-discussing, though they prefer the term nominative determinism, a name for the phenomena that is both science-y and destiny-ish. In 1994, New Scientist introduced that term and discussed such cases as Dr. Misri (a depression-focused psychiatrist), R.A. Sparks (author of electronics textbooks), C.J. Berry (a make-your-own wine maven), and J. Angst, who co-wrote a book on bipolar disorder. Over the years, the letters page of New Scientist has been an ever-replenishing source of aptronyms, and I particularly enjoyed a 2005 issue that mentioned fish researchers Andrew Bass and Steven Haddock, as well as the journalist Elaine Lies, who probably does not agree that her aptronym is apt.

Timothy Noah of Slate—who lacks his own aptronym, unless he collects a metric ark-load of animals—is a top contender for collector laureate of the aptronym world, as his pieces have brought many to light. He’s collected dentists named Fear, Hurt, Toothman, Chu, Plack, and Puller, as well as an economist named Dollar, a gastroenterologist named Colon, a professor of religion named Godlove, an ophthalmologist named Blinder, and a urologist named Peters. (I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that…) Noah’s crowning glories are the discovery of sexual misconduct researcher Charol Shakeshaft and lawyer Sue Yoo, two professionals whose names must make their lives very interesting (and annoying).

For aptronym insight, you can’t do better than Verbie Prevost, literature professor and head of the English department at the University of Tennessee-Chattanooga, who I heard give a paper on this topic at the American Name Society conference a few months ago. As to whether or not the name influenced her, Verbie said her parents probably did not intend to steer their daughter toward an inevitable destiny as an English prof: “They were simply naming me after my grandmothers—Verbie for the maternal grandmother and Ann for the paternal one. I’m not sure it ever occurred to them to think about the connection even when I displayed an early interest in become a writer or an English teacher—as early as elementary school, in fact.”

In her paper, Verbie said that taunt-bearing schoolmates were equally uninterested in her name’s meaning: “I also do not really recall much reference being made to the aptronymic quality of my name during my K-12 school days, but then my classmates probably weren’t fully aware of my future plans. Instead, they primarily teased me about the unusualness of the name.” Admirably, Verbie has managed to not go bonkers from endless jokes about her name, like an old boyfriend who said her sister was named Nounie and another friend who calls Verbie’s children the pronouns.

You could say I have an aptronym, though it’s a bit of a stretch. As I’ve heard tell, my great-grandmother, who was more than a tad bonkers, wasn’t thrilled with the choice of Mark, saying, “What’s that? Like a mark on the wall?” (Guess she never heard of the Bible. Yeeps). But since making marks on paper is my favorite thing to do, even more than plowing through a bag of barbecue chips while watching about five episodes of The Shield in one sitting, the name does fit. I am a mark-er.

What about you, oh nameless readers? Is there a Randall Anonymous, who floats name-free notions across the web, or a Carol Comment with something to say? You know what to do, commentadores.

Ely Buendia for senator?

2009-03-04T21:17:00.000+08:00

after sleeping away my three-day battle for four 1000-to-1,500-word reviews of a classic movie, new and old books, and theatrical plays, strange musings dawned upon me and necessitated me to finish the most pretentious assignment ever in our marriage and family class (imagine me writing a ludicrously odd breakdown of expenses in my—ehem—future wedding; WTH). and for the heck of passing it—yup, two energy-charged hours at dusk that never got drained until the next day. with much vigor left unexpended, i brooded over an issue of the Philippines Free Press—P50 in Manila, but free and plenty indeed from a seminar on Pinoy reading habits the other week.

"The perfect political animal" is the phrase that the author, who's an incredibly great speaker, used to frame the picture. Ely Buendia for Senator? i almost couldn't imagine it. no, i could never imagine it. as i started to immerse into the text, i could feel that the writer merely wanted to set-up some ironies, which somehow proved me right.

but whether Ely is fit for office or not, i didn't care. well, at some point i did because it raised relative issues then. what disturbed me was the way the article was written. i never expected that style from a reputable magazine—a fortress of Philippine journalism for that matter; and i was disappointed because it was my first time to finish a whole thing in that publication. it's as if i was just reading a blog like this—a mare's nest, cluttered. i had awkward moments while reading the interview. more than that, i felt uneasy to find myself abhorring that same article that excited my neurons when i first saw its title on the front page. i was thinking that if the writer had spent more time for that, then it could have been crafted into a close-to-perfect account of political stance. the points were made clear; but those points were downplayed by incorporating them into an informal interview type.

it's reminiscent of a remark from our historical/cultural writing professor, who's also the big man behind our reviews, on a 3000-word draft article i wrote lazily three hours before the deadline: "This is a research material for an article on Quiapo. Kindly fix this." ('yun oh!) but i knew it was still for editing, and was definitely not for nationwide circulation. my scruples wouldn't allow me to pass something like that had it been for publishing anyway.

everyone can write. i believe that. but it's a different story in terms of serious publications. the same goes with social and street blunders like "no parking on BOTH sides," which should have been EITHER SIDE; "fill-UP the form," which must be fill-OUT; "sign up FROM 6am to 5pm," which seems too tiring if you literally sign up for 11 hours, it should have been BETWEEN 6 a.m. AND 5 p.m. (woohoo! i love you, sir!); plus the "NG vs NANG" and "IBA-IBA vs IBA'T IBA" errors.

more people, mostly children, live by these mistakes. it would be a happier world if there's a regulating body that checks and approves signboards to spare people from ignorance and hapless cognitive content. there is a proper way of speaking, and a proper way of writing. it's not enough that we all get each other's point. remember McLuhan, "The Medium is the Message," whose book, when it came back from the typesetter's, had on the cover "The Medium is the Massage." see what i mean?

p.s.
sorry, this really has nothing to do with Ely being a good pick for senator. i just thought it would be a catchy title. just blundering some lousy ideas here. hehe. wooo! three days na lang, E-heads concert na ulit!!! :)

how do i hate 28? let me count the ways...

2009-02-28T21:01:00.003+08:00

six hours earlier, i retired myself to a queasy hibernation after my mother gleefully remarked that i looked like an Igorot as she greeted me at the doorstep. and that was it. with my native-looking headband that strangely takes its roots all the way from Japan and my bouncing iron-curled hair still primly fashioned on my apex, i reluctantly went upstairs without a single word. another six troubling hours earlier, i lost my four-year-old school ID somewhere on the cigarette-butt flooded Dapitan steet. something must be extremely wrong with 28...

as much as i would like to dismiss this thought, i simply could not help it. i myself do not subscribe to feng shui and the rest of the occult-smothered fortune telling schemes, but the thing is, i am persistently endowed with an indistinguishable first-hand misfortune every, before, and after 28, and whether or not i am thinking of it, hell and earth never miss their commitment to give me that slimy shit, that sometimes i feel i can even transmit the relatively undeserved bad luck to persons i am with.

i hate 28 as much as i hate bugs and cockroaches, and people who aren't responsible enough to keep their wet umbrellas shut when walking on a covered pathway. i hate 28 as much as i hate big chunks of ginger and garlic on my food, and children who touch your knees when making their way inside public transportation. i hate 28 as much as i loathe muds of spit on the trodden path, cherry-topped with some yellowish slimy phlegm. i hate 28 as much as i hate chewed bubblegum on my skirt, the snatcher of my phone, and people who flaunt their English on streets, subways, and in places like Quiapo and Divisoria. and for the creamiest crap, i hate 28 as much as i hate the terribly no-brainer commercials, soap operas, and films in the Philippines, particularly that possessed Tiki-Tiki ad, the frenzy Gagambino, and the ultimate summary of downright Pinoy psychological error, KC and Richard's When I Met You.

2008 is yet the most dreadful year i struggled to survive-- faulty termination and a series of unfortunate, i mean UNFORTUNATE, very unfortunate (did i say unfortunate?) events. 2008=28. and if my memory serves me well, the first time i had this shedding of my uterine lining accompanied by excruciating cramps, which i naively thought of as a C-level diarrhea, minus all the BM, was on the 28th of January when i was in grade five. but menstruation isn't really an unfortunate event in womanhood, although disturbing and distressing. and maybe i was not at all unfortunate every 28. maybe i really have to thank this day for giving me an excuse for my inherent idiocy and absent-mindedness. and if you happen to be born on the 28th of any effing month or if you're into celebrating whatever event on the same date, i'm sorry for wasting three minutes of your time and for relentlessly dissing you special date, but... it's 28 and i'm in deep shit!

sweet potatoes

2009-02-14T03:03:00.001+08:00

scientific name: ipomoea batatas
sa Tagalog, KAMOTE.

***************************************

lately i've been having difficulties in writing. i believe it's not because i've been running out of things to say. in fact, whenever i'm slapped with a certain topic, a web of intertwined ideas clutter my brain; too much, that i do not seem to know how to put them into words. so i end up thinking and planning carefully how to sort them, until the time is up and all that's left is will, coupled with my mastery of procrastination, and Jesus Christ. wow. one must know that most sacrilegious writers and writer wannabes suddenly become religious roughly an hour before the deadline.

beyond the wee hours of idle daydreaming and planning how to make a manuscript less stupid in the critical eyes of professors—

(random: talk about being OC. upon checking if the term "wee" would properly address my thoughts, i stumbled upon this thing in urban dictionary:

wee - the time spent in your life peeing

i wasted my life in the wee hours tags: pee, time, bathroom, life, important) rotflmao!

—i find it more convenient to read books and magazines, look at old pictures and make silly slideshows, or update this multiply site. holy cow! i'm less than 20 days away from finally getting this shit off, and until now i still regret (sometimes) having worked only to lose my drive in studying, thinking that i could have done better than those it's-a-little-point-zero-three to dean's list, and that 3s in those subjects i swallowed like bitter pills because i stubbornly did not want them like that lame PGC and Pol Dy are beyond repair, so why waste my effort when i know there's no silver tint at the end of my effin' gay rainbow? i can really be such a pessimist at times. i'm not a fan of numbers, but i know i could have made it only if i willed, but i did not, and this remorse is buggin' me 16 days before classes end. sweet Jesus!

***************************************

our supposed thesis defense day is over, but not yet the "grilling of asses and butchering of students alive," as how my friend Jaycee puts it. good thing Sir Nikki Salandanan, one of our panelists (i intended to put this thing near Jaycee's name for good luck. yiii!), who was all crabbed and harassed last night after nearly 12 hours of baking the balls of hopeful kids, agreed to call our presentation off and move it tomorrow, this time, with the other panelist, so it would be easier for his part, and so was heaven's grace for us.

***************************************

28 is my "malas day" and not friday the 13th. i've celebrated a couple of birthdays that fell on this widely-anathematized day, but hey! i'm still alive!

in a hopeless attempt to dispose off my P68-resume, my friend-slash-thesis-mate Joseinne and I signed up in any, i mean ANY participating company in the job fair, just because Reuters' booth was not manned (but we placed our resumes at the table anyway) and Inquirer's was, to our dismay, all emptied; plus, the other publishing companies have already packed up. imagine us applying in Ayala Land Corporation. what the heck are we going to do there? sell houses? write PR newsletters or make advertorials for houses? we just did not think any job would suit us there, but we signed up anyway instead of going for Maynilad or 7-11.

and my friend? well, she ended up submitting her last copy of resume in the Kumon booth. holy guacamole!

then i suddenly remembered that my cover letter was like "I am seeking to align myself with one of the most respected news agencies in the Philippines today." come on, Ayala Land!

***************************************

and i thought i was lucky on friday the 13th...

cookie-dookie

2009-01-13T10:43:00.000+08:00

i mixed everything
butter and cream
the tips of my fingers
all dressed with flour
two cups of water
and gone was the hour

if not for the bright moon
and the falling of leaves
i had used the right spoon
and watched over my cookies
'cause they turned out so sweet
i wanted to believe

i cried for my cookies
and how bad it felt
then i remembered
how much i loved salt
now i know i need not bake
any bread of that sort

'cause all i had to do

was let it all loose

shut my eyes close

and stick my tongue out

on eggs, pregnancy, and night sky

2008-12-23T17:17:00.001+08:00

"What makes the desert beautiful," said the Little Prince, "is that somewhere it hides a well..."

December 18 marked the last day of our classes this year. No one was feverish and swarmed with school works because there's not that much to do, except for some encoding and revisions of theses, which practically compensated for the hours wasted on absolute idleness. In short, pang-walis sa nagbuburak na utak.

If Christmas is not a thing for apathetic and semi-anti-social students like us—the notorious bunch of seniors that constantly ignored parties, general assemblies, saintly seminars, and even the upcoming retreat—gift-giving, ironically, does count, at least in some groups, and especially in our last year as kolehiyalas.

"Sirain mo para maraming sumunod," is an automatic line people will surely never forget while anxiously waiting, and sometimes getting even more excited for what the other has received, or dying to see what kind of reaction one would throw upon discovering a slimy toad gum from that silly gift box.

I knew it was an egg; an odd sort of egg—that thing my friend, Joy, gave me last week—and indeed, eggs are supposed to be broken before they can be useful. It was an egg-shaped plush toy with a zip fastener at the midsection, as if inviting you to take a peek at what it cloaks inside. Under the velvety white sheet, much like a scrotum (kidding!) or just plain bonnet, was a happy duckling with 10 hoops of yarn and a perfectly tied orange ribbon on its head, and short flappy wings, unable as that of the tearjerker kiwi animation in youtube. I am not a fan of stuffed toys, but that one was great.

Nevertheless, i prefer to keep the egg closed and figuratively unbroken most of the time for sentimental reasons. Like magic that makes us smile as we look at the swollen tummies of soon-to-be mommies, we slowly fall in love with the idea that there is something beautiful inside it; that there's a little man, sucking his thumb under that pack of lard; and simply because there is life inside it, which gives that ball an extra glow... And for us, lovers of the Little Prince, it is always sweet to look at the sky at night and see the faint white glow with the freshness that comes only with new eyes, knowing that in one of the stars, he is living.

Stars do change, in some measures, as we change in larger ones, and until now, it still gets me to thinking, has the sheep eaten his rose—or not? "And you will see how everything changes... And no grown-up will ever understand that this is a matter of so much importance!"

where are you Christmas?

2008-12-09T11:41:00.005+08:00

i heard this thing last night which asked, "if you were given a chance to change the 'ho-ho-ho' trademark of Santa Claus, what would it be?" answers came flying as hoy-hoy-hoy, hey-hey-hey, wahahahaha, hihihihi (as if Santa was some sort of a witch), and a lot more crappy sounds.

if i were to be asked, i would suggest that Santa just shuts his mouth up (what's so funny about Christmas?) and never let the hopeful children notice him coming, which is what he intends to do in the first place, because if not, he would just bang the front door or whack the windows instead of squeezing himself dirty in that darn chimney. and by the way, how about the children in tropical countries, who have nothing but holes in the roof, and worse, no roof at all? won't they have their gifts? i'm thankful that i stopped believing in tales at an early age, lest i would have thought of myself as a naughty kid all these time.

well, i don't want to sound like The Grinch, because i also had my own share of putting big red socks under the stairs, waiting for something lovely beneath that plastic tree, and getting myself all mesmerized by the fairy lights that cover the whole city at night; but now, i just don't feel it coming. this year, i don't want to get myself involved with Christmas parties and reunion-slash-beer-drinking session, or whatever. i don't even want to look at plain yellow fairy lights because all they do is make me feel a little melancholic and alone.

again, i say, if i were to choose, i'd rather die on a Christmas season. scanning my older posts, i found this younger piece of thought:

on living and leaving (part 2)

"...it is mostly during the cold December that people feel loved and special. gifts flushing into your house, greetings clogging in airwaves, and friends, those you've known ever since you said your first hello to the earth, coming into sight, and making you feel important, remembered, cherished - is there anything more you can ask for? you feel great, you feel loved, you feel more than what the great dead people felt. what happens after life, you know no more, but what matters is that you keep those memories with you and preserve them like a jar of fragrant kisses which, while the grownups fooled us, multiply into thousand sweet little memories... i can't think of spending another year with those love messages diminishing like decaying trees and being thrown into a state where they were totally lost and out of my grasp..."

i just don't think something has changed in the way i see it.

and since it's the time of the year, and 2008 is slowly making it's way out (thank God, just a minute shadow of 28 for me to endure) i might as well share with you some of my favorite Christmas songs and an audio book of A Christmas Carol by Orson Wells.

happy Christmas...

malkovich, malkovich, malkovich... malkovich?? malkovich!!! malko-malko-malkovich!!!

2008-11-17T12:42:00.000+08:00

at a certain point in people's lives, they tend to dream of being in another person's shoes. sometimes it's because of misery, lack of opportunity, envy, or just plain curiosity on how it feels to be somebody else, say, Bianca Araneta or the Ayalas. i myself have my own share of wishing my soul to be transported into another mass of flesh for a day, or even just for an hour. i still want to know how ecstatic it feels to be a Katie Holmes and be kissed by my future ex-husband, Tom Cruise, or be an Angelina Jolie and sleep with the oh-so-damn-hot Brad Pitt. when i was younger and naive on politics (i'm not even wiser on it today), it was during the turnover of the presidency of Ex-President Fidel Ramos to Ex-(okay) just Erap, i wondered if i could transfer into the dilapidated vessel of this then president-wannabe action star, take full control of his movements minus the feeling, punch his chest endlessly, hit his head on a rock, then escape from his body afterwards, leaving him no decent temple to go back into anymore. until now it makes me laugh whenever i remember myself lying on the couch while watching that political threat, and asking Voldemort if Ramos could declare martial law just in time before Erap could get the position.

but what if there really is a way to experience this kind of phenomenal insanity? if Stuart (Liev Schreiber) made his way into 1876 to know more about Leopold (Hugh Jackman) in the 2001 film Kate and Leopold, Craig Schwartz (John Cusack) discovered a portal into the eyes, and him being an excellent puppeteer, he found a way even into the whole being of John Malkovich (himself) in the film Being John Malkovich, which is two years older than the former. wait, i'm not making a movie review, am i? poor me, had i not been curious about Jessica Zafra's The 500 People You Meet in Hell, i won't know this movie anyway. well, at least now i know that there was a response the same year the corniest song ever "Stay the Same" by Joey Mcintyre was released.

i did find it amazing to see the reality (or fantasy) behind being in another's body, whereas mine, the audience, an absolute panoramic view of what people see and think while being in Malkovich for 15 minutes, like they were somehow capable of doing the things this universe has deprived them of since they were breathed life into, i felt omniscient.

realizations and the urge to detach myself from total entertainment (because the film was way hilarious, weird, and full of nuance) dawned upon me when Malkovich entered the portal to his own self. what he saw, heard, and felt was about nothing else but himself. everyone had his face. even women and children did. every word written was Malkovich. every word said was none other than Malkovich. he bumped into a man, and instead of welcoming a crisp "fuck you," he absorbed a curse labeled after his very own name, "Malkovich!!!"

it... i mean... you see the point? that, indeed, is what happens when we use our own eyes to perceive the world, because the truth is, seeing life through the eyes alone means a view of nothing more than ourselves. WE ARE ALL SELF-CENTERED. shoot me straight in the head if you know someone who's not. has anyone never ever thought, when he was younger, of him being the only real person on earth and the rest of humanity being obstacles given by the good Lord to test his strength? this might be a strong statement and/or accusation, but people are so used to saying the absolute cliché, "everything happens for a reason," yet they refuse to admit the idea that they see other people as instruments to realizing their own selves. pathetic...

my college friends will kill me for this ego-centrism post, but this certainly is not in a limited-theory-of-mind sense. we all have our take on this thing, and as they say, "we are all generally selfish, but as usual, it is in varying degrees." i believe that it is because our consciousness has been incarcerated and repressed for the longest time, that sometimes, it's like we feel that our minds are being betrayed by the movements of our bodies. we are slaves of our own faculties. we all crave for freedom, and we find ways to somehow take a replacement for that feeling which can never be completely ours.

then again, of course we are all capable of loving others, yada yada, and all the corny stuff, but, admit it or not, it is a love that emanated from the love of thy own SELF. we love people and we want to be with them because they put US in cloud nine. we help others for the fulfillment of OUR being. we do not want to see them suffer because their misery gives US greater pain, and WE are tired of grieving, aren't WE? this world is full of I-LOVE-MYSELF-and-I-LOVE-PEOPLE-AROUND-ME-because-I-LOVE-MYSELF-period attitude. i suddenly remembered our professor when he reminded us of our Bible code that God created us to love, know and praise "HIM".

now we must not wonder why we are all egocentric...

chamber of secrets

2008-11-16T21:04:00.013+08:00

(don't worry, Twilight fans, this is not a Harry Potter post in response to your addiction.)

as i was bloghopping earlier, i came across this entry of my classmate, Monique, about secrets shared anonymously over the net... and as i visited the site, i happened to have my own favorites...

some of those are the naughty ones,

uplifting,

and others, sentimental...

some pictures were posted with corresponding messages, and there's this one that moved me the most:

I googled my secret...

Frank,

In April of this year you posted a secret of mine, it was a painting that read "when you stopped loving me...i stopped painting."

A friend of mine asked to see my paintings while I was at his house yesterday. I don't have any of them online, so, I did a Google Images search for "PostSecret Painting" not expecting to actually find it.

It was the first image to show up!

I was surprised, but more than that, I was moved. I felt like that secret was personal to me, that very few would identify with it. It's posted on blogs and in personal photo albums, even on myspace pages!

Seeing it again reminded me what it felt like to send it in. It reminded me how great it feels to be free from it.

- The Painter

now, with my being so-not-over-this-letting-go-thing, i wonder if there's any site where we can entrust the things we would like to detach from. there's a fine line between "throwing" and "letting go." i just know that one day, when your eyes landed on the things you have let go of before, you will feel the same way the painter did.

colorgenics

2008-11-16T20:56:00.000+08:00

(dahil kay jc, napa-blog ulit ako. haha!)

color tests and other kinds of psychological tests available in the internet, i think, are programs designed for lonely and disturbed people. although i am not as lonely as you think, and definitely not as disturbed as i look, i am a big fan of them, but i still hold on to the idea that these things were cooked up to secure a surrogate friend who can tell you how he thinks things are going on in your life... and most of the time, they're damn right!

this one's from GOLDINUNIVERSE:

Name: tinapie
Date: 11/16/2008
Colorgenics Number: 71532460

Enough is enough - you feel frustrated and rejected. You are fighting back and the going is tough. It would be just wonderful if you could be left in peace.

You are looking for excitement and stimulation and you are ready to try anything - but be careful not to take too many risks.

Enough is enough - but the problems never seem to stop. They never stop. You feel, and maybe you are right, that the problems seem to go on and on and you have indeed had more than your fair share of trials and tribulations. But to give you credit - you bounce back time and time again - you stick to your beliefs because deep down you have that inner knowledge, that 'belief' system that in the end, everything will turn out OK - and you are right -it will!

As of late, you have been experiencing untold stress and this is a result of continuous frustration. You haven't been taking care of all your physical needs and it's beginning to show. It would seem that you have a need to find someone to whom you can really relate - someone perhaps whose standards are as high as your own. You want to be different - to be individualistic - to stand out from the common herd. Your inherent control of your sensual instincts is restricting your ability to give yourself to open up freely but this being on your own, being lonely, often makes you feel the need to give up some of your strict standards to surrender to the general flow - to be like everyone else; a part of the herd. Deep down you regard such instincts as weaknesses to be overcome. You would like to be loved or admired for yourself alone. You demand recognition and tender loving care.

There is that inherent fear that you may be prevented from attaining the better things in life - those things that you consider essential to your well-being. So you are prepared to try everything to prove to yourself that whatever you do or try will go wrong. This destructive attitude could come under the heading of 'a self fulfilling prophesy'. This belittling yourself is your method of disguising how hopeless and what a waste of time you feel that everything is. So now turn it about. As you 'think', so you are... So 'imagine' yourself successful. 'Pretend', 'act it out' and you may be pleasantly surprised at the outcome.

can i just make a protest on the last paragraph? i just think that it's too pathetic, and it's as sure as hell not me. just because black topped the list of my preference doesn't mean i'm a total loser. yes, sometimes i give up, but tell me, is there anyone who's prepared to try everything to prove to himself that whatever he does or try will go wrong? it sounds hilarious, doesn't it? ^o^

sinong may sabi na dapat lahat ng post may kwenta?

2008-11-13T21:06:00.000+08:00

gusto kong mag-post ng napaka-walang kwentang entry ngayon. una sa lahat, hindi naman ako preacher o teacher, kaya wala ka talagang matututunan sa mga pinagsususulat ko. 'pag binasa mo 'to, maiintindihan kita... wala ka ring magawa sa buhay mo ngayon ano? marami kang gustong i-post, pero tinatamad ka rin ba kagaya ako? or you just can't put them into words?

gusto ko lang mag-post kasi masarap umepal ngayon. ilang minuto na lang, 2 a.m. na. kung sana lang hindi na ako nag-post ng ganitong kawalang-kwentang post, e di sana naumpisahan ko na yung entry na gusto ko talagang i-post. sana rin hindi ka na nagababasa ng napakawalang-kwentang entry na 'to.

pero bakit binabasa mo pa rin? jologs 'tong ginagawa ko, men. parang yung mga walang kakwena-kwentang comments sa friendster na "hi, maikli lang 'to. kakamustahin lang sana kita, pero busy ka yata kaya naisip ko, hindi na lang, ayoko sanang maka-istorbo, pero sana kahit papaano ay na-appreciate mo yung pangungumusta ko. ano, kumusta ka na? yada, yada, yada" at yung notorious na classic testi na "eto ang pinaka-walang kwentang testi, blah blah, blah." i'm sure binasa mo 'yung mga 'yun, at sa dinami-dami ng pwedeng basahin, isa 'yun sa mga natapos mo. e bakit nga ba? sino bang may sabi na dapat lahat ng post e may kwenta? bawal bang magsulat ng hindi pinag-iisipan? bobo ka na ba once makita ng tao yung side mo na napaka-walang kwenta? and on top of it, dapat bang laging maganda ang i-project mo sa mga tao? ang hirap mag-edit ng sarili. 'wag kang plastik. mas masaya pa rin maging jologs. chillax lang...

kung ang tao nga minsan salita na lang nang salita, wala namang kwenta yung sinasabi eh. may natututunan ka ba sa kanila? yung mga prof mo, minsan, dakdak lang nang dakdak, may naiintindihan ka ba? wala naman diba? baka rin kasi minsan, ayaw mo lang talagang tanggapin ang mga naririnig mo. tunog lang naman 'yang mga 'yan eh. lilipas rin sila. wala pa 'kong alam na pagkahaba-habang salita na lumampas ng three seconds 'pag binigkas. oo na, sige na. supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. walang three seconds diba? ano pa? 'wag kang pilosopo. i'm not talking about compound words. yung mga isahan lang. nosebleed eh.

pero hindi naman lahat ng nakakausap mong walang kwentang magsalita ay senseless. masarap lang talaga minsan kumawala. dapat ba lahat ng stories ay happy or sad ending at may lesson? e paano kung sa gitna pa lang ng kwento e bigla na lng natapos at hindi mo na alam kung ano nang nangyari? nag-brown out kumbaga, o sadyang walang kwenta lang ang plot. bitin diba? kahit sa totoong buhay may ganyan. hindi rin 'yung mga kasing predictable ng mga pelikulang pinoy na naka-template na. iniiba na lang yung love team at yung setting, e pwede mo nang hulaan yung ending. yayaman ang inaapi. masusunog/masasagasaan/mababaril/masasabugan, at eventually, mamamatay na kunwari ang kontrabida, pero hindi pala. buhay pa pala siya. pero magwawagi pa rnang bida. bida 'yun eh! e bakit 'yun may nanonood pa rin? at bakit sa mga ganito ay may nagbabasa pa rin? see?

salamat nga pala ah... :)

dusting off

2008-11-04T18:38:00.005+08:00

i have this piece of crap called room. you can find all kinds of (yes, you genius!) crap in it. from old books and papers to soil and cobwebs, all the things in it seldom see the sun. i was driven to do "a little letting go" (if the phrase would permit me to borrow some sense) this afternoon. it might sound ridiculous but i suddenly realized that there's this subtle kind of poetry in the act of throwing most of the things that remind you of the bitter past, while also finding those that made it worthwhile.

how do i say so? whenever i do a general cleaning, which is, of course, as seldom as an eclipse, i start off with the topmost part. it won't take long before you realize that i'm trying hard to associate this thing with the brain. believe me. so there. let the dust fall on the things that are more capable of holding filth―those that are easier to clean. and of course, one must do the cleaning when he is harsh and most detached from the world, because if not, it will be harder to sift what to keep from what to abolish.

normally, i take the books from the shelf, clean them one-by-one, and put them back to their places; but this time, i yanked all of them down to my bed and stared at the heap i have created. now this is a pretty hard task―to look at the vaults of your knowledge and decide whether to pass them on to someone who might need the same enlightenment or keep them for future self-rehebilitation.

for someone who's no good in any household chore, cleaning is the most tiring yet the most exciting and overwhelming of all. it feels good to recollect your youth personally. cleaning brings back old things. and you don't have to be surprised to find out that you have been a good secret keeper. your chamber contains lots of secrets you've probably forgotten by now. in most cases, nothing will change even if you spill them out. like a herd of whores, youthful secrets lose their value as they age. they might have been made known to the public anyway. these are the mundane secrets of your youth, and are now the subjects of laughter. continue testing your tongue if you want to set a new record for the best-kept secret ever, and people might ask you, "where have you been all these days?"

in my crap, i didn't find much secrets. my best friends were gone long after high school that i don't have any today. i'm referring to that one friend you call "best friend." no secrets were "re-revealed again for the second time around" in its utmost redundancy, but pictures of how strange i looked years ago.. nude pictures of me with fictitious pentel-marked panties.. awkward poses and uneasy crescent smiles.. red-eye and closed-eye snaps while everyone else in the picture seemed in glorious state.. how i looked like with a pimple-sized nose, punch in the mouth, fence-like teeth, and bangs.. how i wore my hair in pony tail, the ends touching the straps of my jumper.. and um, yes, minus the boobs, of course. i looked like a little boy.. and the fashion, not just of me but of people around me. the hair! solid!

the joy of reuniting with the things that made up the totality of your being equals that of letting go of your excess baggage. as what my friend, Jaycee, found in that Oprah thing, "You always do a little growing up everytime you do a little letting go." and i guess, acceptance and detachment are the crucial steps to finally let go of something you've held on for so long. like toys and things you keep because they were your firsts (first pencil, first pay slip, first college papers) eventually, you must let go of them because you don't want to make a dump site out of your body. one can't just contain all the things and emotions he had in a lifetime. successful people are always moving forward and there's always a give-up story in every success. move a little and give room for something fresh. give up something good if you want something better.. just that. if only it were that easy..

i gave a final sweep of everything from under my bed and table. how much junk has accumulated there was epic. now my room isn't a crap anymore. give it some weeks and maybe it'll look like a jungle again. but for now, i see it as a sanctuary for my tired body.

well, since Jaycee starred in this entry. let me steal his comment on my friendster, "tap me when it's about time to cram, procrastinate, and make everything work at crunch time. for now, it's a date with the pillows."

food for thoughts

2008-09-28T11:59:00.000+08:00

a perfect reading experience after browsing our phenomenology of love lectures way back in 3rd year (*mushy*), and while listening to the music of beatles.

now, after four years of learning the art of writing, i can really say that there's no greatest of the greatest schools that can teach anybody how to write. how about that then? too bad, professors don't even know how to rate your work. everything becomes subjective. writing classes and all that are just there to develop your taste. the rest is for you to discover...

from reader's digest online: Eight Celebrities Share What They've Learned

DESMOND TUTU - cleric; antiapartheid activist; winner, 1984 Nobel Peace Prize; winner, 2005 Gandhi Peace Prize

"Each one of us can make a contribution. Too frequently we think we have to do spectacular things. Yet if we remember that the sea is actually made up of drops of water and each drop counts, each one of us can do our little bit where we are. Those little bits can come together and almost overwhelm the world. Each one of us can be an oasis of peace."

JANE GOODALL - primatologist and conservationist; founder, the Jane Goodall Institute for Wildlife Research, Education and Conservation, based in Washington, D.C.

"We've been very arrogant in assuming that there's a sharp line dividing us from the rest of the animal kingdom. We are not the only beings on this planet with personalities, minds, and, above all, emotions. We need to be more respectful."

CLINT EASTWOOD - actor, more than 50 films; director, 29 films, including Unforgiven and Million Dollar Baby; winner, 4 Academy Awards

"Great stories teach you something. That's one reason I haven't slipped into some sort of retirement: I always feel like I'm learning something new. There was a time in my life when I was doing westerns, on the plains of Spain. I could have stayed there and probably knocked out a dozen more. But the time came when I said, That's enough of that. As fun as they were to do, it was time to move on. If a story doesn't have anything that's fresh in it, at least for me, I move away from it."

"Take your profession seriously; don't take yourself seriously. You really only matter to a certain degree in the whole circus out there. If you take yourself seriously, you're not going to be able to move forward. You're going to be hampered by always wanting to look in the mirror and see if you have enough tuna oil on your hair or something like that."

LELLA and MASSIMO VIGNELLI - interior and graphic design team, married 50 years; creators, New York City subway signage; contributors, Grand Central Terminal restoration; winners, more than 130 awards

LV: "People ask us, 'Aren't you retiring?' But we really like what we do."

MV: "You need to have passion. The greatest thing I've learned in my life is that there is room for everybody. That's the great thing about art and design and communication. There's room for all."

LV: "Aspiring designers should know about the good things that happened before. Have a little history. Go back and see what was done before."

MV: "Learn from the past if you want what matters in the present. Knowledge is the most important thing. To young people, we say, fill your brain with as much information as you can. Look at everything, know everything, develop a critical mind. History, theory, and criticism are the three fundamental elements to grow in a professional life. History will provide you with the tools for understanding. Theory will be the philosophy of why you're doing it. And criticism will provide you with the ability to continually master what you are doing. Play with these tools and you can do pretty good things."

NELSON MANDELA - civil rights leader; prisoner for 27 years for his antiapartheid work; cowinner, 1993 Nobel Peace Prize; elected South Africa's first freely chosen president (1994-1999)

"Wounds that can't be seen are more painful than those that can be seen and cured by a doctor. I learned that to humiliate another person is to make him suffer an unnecessarily cruel fate. I learned that courage was not the absence of fear but the triumph over it. I felt fear myself more times than I can remember, but I hid it behind a mask of boldness. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid but he who conquers fear. Where people of goodwill get together and transcend their differences for the common good, peaceful and just solutions can be found, even for those problems that seem most intractable."

JACQUES PÉPIN - chef; author, 25 cookbooks; founder, American Institute of Wine & Food

"For most kids now, a chicken is rectangular. It's got plastic on top, and it doesn't have eyes or feet. This is scary. You should never eat something you cannot recognize. A simple principle, but important.

JUDI DENCH - actress, more than 100 plays and films, including Shakespeare in Love; winner, 6 Laurence Olivier Awards, 1 Academy Award, 1 Tony Award

"I get sillier as I get older, so I don't know what wisdom means. I can only pass on something that I've been acquainted with and let whoever it is pick the bones out of it."

maybe i'll put a title tomorrow

2008-09-24T19:19:00.002+08:00

after six months of having an online newspaper as my homepage, i finally reverted to MSN. yeah, i know... i'm still not for straight, verrry verrry hard news.

i found this article below on their MSN-Encarta features/columns section. how i love the way it was written! errr.. maybe because it speaks for me. haha. now i know, procrastination's not that bad. hello to all fellow planners and daydreamers!

Is Procrastination Healthy?
By Don Asher

Do you put off important work until the last minute? So do I. That makes us both procrastinators. In fact, this article was due weeks ago. But since you didn't know that, you weren't missing it, were you?

Only my editors suffer from my work habits. At least, that's what I try to tell myself.

Procrastination costs the country untold millions -- if not billions -- of dollars, though. Missed deadlines create a cascade of problems in a complex, interconnected economy.

California can't seem ever to turn out a timely budget, scads of Americans recently waited weeks and weeks for tardy stimulus checks, and delayed software releases even have their own name, "vaporware."

However, procrastination is not all bad, and not all procrastinators are deficient performers. For example, graduate students are more likely than undergraduates to procrastinate, in spite of being statistically superior students.

Artists often revel in pulling all-nighters full of blasts of creativity and production. The peculiar genius of desperation and 4 a.m. logic is a fecund contributor to the national product. In fact, a little procrastination may be part of living an ambitious and energetic life.

But what about when procrastination goes critical? When relationships are ruined, spouses feel betrayed, bosses are disgusted, and a person is frozen, frustrated, and disillusioned with that nonperformer staring back in the mirror? That's when procrastination is an enemy to mental health.

"In personal relationships, if you say you'll do something and you don't do it, people begin not to trust you," says clinical psychologist Linda Sapadin. "If they can't trust you to do what you say you'll do, that's passive-aggressive, and it creates a lot of disturbance in relationships."

Dr. Sapadin is a national specialist in procrastination, and author of "It's About Time! The Six Styles of Procrastination and How to Overcome Them." In addition to her private practice based on Long Island, she speaks to corporate audiences nationwide on the costs and cures of procrastination.

Classifying procrastinators

It turns out not all procrastinators are alike. Dr. Sapadin's taxonomy identifies six different types. You may recognize yourself in one or more of these:

Perfectionists -- They want every project to be perfect, and this often causes them to be frozen in fear that they cannot meet such an unrealistic goal, even though they set the goal themselves.

Dreamers -- These people suffer from magical thinking. "It'll all work out," they say, while they do nothing to advance their goals.

Crisis Makers -- They often say they do their best work under pressure, but more accurately, they prefer uproar and crisis to do any work at all.

Worriers -- Their fears consume their thought processes and prevent any real work being done, as they imagine and dwell upon every possible scenario for disaster and failure.

Defiers -- These people may resent the assignments in the first place, and retake control over their lives by refusing to do the work in a timely and cooperative manner, or at all.

Overdoers -- Also known as "the pleasers," these people can't say no, and so take on more and more responsibility without any reasonable expectation of being able to deliver on their obligations.

One of the more fascinating findings in the research literature about procrastinators is that time-management training doesn't really help. Procrastinators know perfectly well how to manage time; they just don't want to do their work that way!

When Dr. Sapadin was considering writing her book, "All the existing books had to do with time management or getting organized, but for most people it [procrastination] related to some glitch in their personality style," she says.

So procrastinators have to change their thinking, rather than improve their knowledge of time-management techniques. For more on this, check out Dr. Sapadin's Web site psychwisdom.com.

For example, perfectionists have to tell themselves, "This doesn't have to be perfect. Good enough is just fine. It is more important to be done on time than to do a perfect job. Perfection is unattainable anyway, and it's not what my boss or professor wants."

Crisis makers may need to tell themselves, "I don't really do my best work under pressure. That's just a habit I have. I can do more work if I start sooner, and I'll probably find that some of that work is just as creative and interesting as the work I might do under pressure."

It is this sort of cognitive reprogramming that leads to change.

Procrastination is extremely common in academic settings. In fact, the overwhelming majority of students procrastinate. The American Psychological Association has a guide for educators on how to deal with different types of procrastinating students, "Counseling the Procrastinator in Academic Settings."

It turns out that procrastination is, in fact, a time-management technique. When it's not a destructive force, it allows workers to be hyperproductive in bursts. It's an antidote to that old maxim, "The assignment expands to fill the available time." It's a way to contain an assignment within a smaller block of time.

To see how procrastination works when it is a force for good, I decided to interview some top students about their work habits. The following students are all top performers.

Ginger White, a McNair Scholar and a senior at Indiana University -- Purdue University Indianapolis, readily admits to procrastinating.

"I do work better under pressure, and I'm easily distracted. Little things get in the way, until the deadline gets near." For the final push, though, she says she gathers all the books and reference materials she needs to do the assignment.

"Then, I sit there. I don't care how long it takes. I sit there. I'm in the zone, and the ideas just come, and if I were to try to do this two weeks early, the ideas just wouldn't be there."
This seems to be working for her, as she has a 3.9 GPA in new media and computer sciences.

Brandon Lewis, a music education major at the University of Arkansas at Pine Bluff, and also a McNair Scholar, says he procrastinates "all the time." But he sees a benefit to it.

"When I have a big paper due, I might put it off," he says, but "I'm planning out how I'm going to do it, planning when to do it. I'm thinking about it constantly." So this type of mental rehearsal and preparation helps him get ready to be productive.

Dominique Booker, a double major in criminal justice and political science at Anderson University in Indiana, says her busy schedule of activities sometimes makes her delay schoolwork.

"I have good intentions, but I'm involved in a lot of stuff," says Booker. "I'm vice president of the Multicultural Student Association and a delegate on the legal committee for the Model United Nations, and I take these seriously. There's a lot of work and research for these projects, and sometimes I put these ahead of my regular schoolwork."

But then, like Ginger White, she gets in the zone.

"I get all the library books and articles, and I just do it. I just start reading, highlighting, taking notes, collecting resources and citations, and I work straight through, usually. I normally do it all day, even if it takes several days. I've worked as much as a week straight, usually every afternoon and night, say 4 p.m. to 2 or 3 in the morning."

She recommends academic procrastinators make sure they have all the books and resources they need well before the deadline, or other students may have them checked out.

Then again, there are students like Martsyl Joseph, who is just finishing her Master of Public Administration degree at IUPUI and will be going on to law school in the fall.
"I don't procrastinate anymore," she says. Joseph overcommitted to activities as an undergrad, she admits, but in graduate school she stays on task.

"The key is to know your limit. Understand that you can't do everything, even though you want to. Pick and choose what's most important to you, and stick to those one or two things. And put education first. You'll have plenty of time after you graduate to do all that other stuff."

So, if procrastination is not debilitating, it may be useful. But if it is debilitating, training in time-management skills is unlikely to achieve a change in behavior. You'll need to change the way you think about your work. For myself, I'm going to get on the next article due, right away. Just as soon as I ...

borg abunda!

2008-09-16T09:16:00.000+08:00

i don't know why, maybe it's because of my addiction to radio programs, but it has become an annoying duty of my bio-clock to bug me very early even after incurring just a couple of hours of good, i mean GOOD sleep.

so here i am, all half-cooked, currently listening to this morning show "Good Times with Mo, Mojo, and Grace Lee," and laughing the devil out of me! seeing that photo down there, i can surmise you're face is already cracking up with hard blows of laughter! let's all be happy today! good times!

here's a verrrry funny entry, posted yesterday on a listener-made blog:

Boy Abunda billboard, photo courtesy of

http://leviuqse.blogspot.com/

Blog reader Chi clued me in to a Boy Abunda billboard that’s now causing a lot of laughter along EDSA and probably some accidents as well… Although I haven’t seen the billboard personally, I did some research and saw a picture of it on the net. It’s for Boy Abunda’s new perfume line and the tagline is a killer: “Kaibigan, nagpabango ka na ba?” ROTFLMAO

Mo asked me to post a picture here for tomorrow’s show and I can’t wait for the reaction from other Good times’ listeners when they see this piece of advertising brilliance, hehe…

Go check it out yourself when you pass by EDSA, according to blog reader Marie, there are some other versions of the same billboard with the same theme located along EDSA near Robinson’s Pioneer…

Definitely some serious competition for the notorious ELLEN billboards…

I can’t wait to shake the hand of the creative genius who thought up this monstrosity, hahaha… And you know what? It’s too early for Halloween!

Damn, tomorrow’s show should be hilarious!

Good times!

*title inspired by one of the hosts, Mojo Jojo: "It kinda reminds me of a character from Star Trek….. parang he’s a “Borg” that mated with Rainbow Brite…. BORG ABUNDA na rainbow edition… oh my! Atesh! I just don’t know where advertising is going to nowadays
At least its “colorful” di b? Hmnnn……"

kwentong kalye #1

2008-09-15T22:18:00.006+08:00

i have a big problem with umbrellas.

anyway, in the Philippines, where the weather is as moody as a woman in her menopausal stage, umbrellas are, in a way, strong weapons against sickness. well, can you imagine yourself wearing that Disney-character-inspired raincoat your mother used to embarrass you when you were still a moppet? not to mention your oh-so-redundant mini-umbrella, your shiny, colorful rain boots, and your (uhm, again) cartoon-character-inspired stroller bag with a sheet of plastic cover on—it's like you're in for some mock battle down south! crrrrrazy...

so now that you've earned some respect and an ounce of shame for yourself, you realize that umbrellas and plain logic are somehow enough to spare you from hospital beds. set aside the gangs of virus that flutter in the air. it's hard to escape from their merciless claws anyway.

also, it is only in the Philippines where people can get free umbrellas from fast food restaurants, churches, bus stops, classrooms, and jeepneys, courtesy of their careless fellows. talk about perks, man! but how people love walking with this portable roof on top of their heads, i don't even know. more than that, i can't seem to imagine why grownups, especially the typical women who wear dusters and all that, are so numb, they can't even notice the tips of their umbrellas (yes, tips. ferrule's the one on top. oh, i didn't know that, too!) effing your face like they are in prison! in addition to that "more than that" thing, i will never ever understand why it is so hard for people to shut their umbrellas in a roofed pathway, so as not to cause what i would love to call a "human traffic jam," or hold their umbrellas upside-down if they're already shut, and be sensitive enough not to poke their fellow pedestrians with, ehem, ferrules. people can sometimes be so annoying... and then they get inside the jeepney with their wet umbrellas, their muddy shoes landing on yours, the driver speeding more then ever as if trying to catch up for a date with satan—the heck, fools don't even care if water's drooling from their umbrellas down to your pants! then as you reached your classroom/office/whatever, it's as if you've just entered an umbrella exhibit room, with those canopies lying open on the floor like skirts blown up-ways, and like it takes 12 hours for them to get dry.

well, if you would ask me if i carry one, of course i do. who doesn't? ok, some guys don't... and yey! i just got a freebie last week! sorry, classmate. if it's yours, just approach me. i seldom use mine anyway. an umbrella sleeps in my bag for ages, or that whether or not to bring one is always a self-debate. light rain showers are not alarming for me, unless giants up there start to cry so hard, then it's time to give myself some considerations and be decent-looking enough wherever i'm heading to. i just feel a little ashamed that the way i take umbrellas for granted is a different thing for those who use theirs for shelter... or maybe i just think a lot when i'm traveling.

oh well, an umbrella is still an excess baggage for me! whether or not to bring one is always a self-debate.

nocturne

2008-09-04T02:06:00.000+08:00

he's the song that keeps on playing inside my head

the one i turn to whenever in delight

sound of every string on my blue guitar

sad ivory of my grand piano

lip plate of my old wooden flute

the composer of my song

notes on my music sheet

rhythm of my piece

bars on my staff

staccato

tempo

end

he has, by far, the best melody in this world

the perfect blend of music and poetry

his lyrics found a way to touch my soul...

i'll keep on playing him everyday

until he inspires me no more

until there's no magic left...

still, i'll be listening

'coz until now, i

can't seem to find

a new song

for me

yet

circus flooded from taguig to dapitan

2008-08-31T22:38:00.010+08:00

seeing the moonlight fade though the cresting waves of Dapitan flood kept our eyes open to see the first rays of the sun; spending that entire moment with a friend who shares the same passion for life is nothing but priceless..

i would have died last night had i not been able to catch even the last three or four songs of the Eraserheads reunion concert. luckily, the hands of God worked in favor of my plans. i had to stick my neck out for that one.. i literally had to crash in! although it was cut short because of ely's condition, the mere fact that those four music geniuses sang their most popular hits that paved way for the rebirth of OPM in the 90s right on the same stage once again was more than any e-heads fan could wish for. one word: bliss!

however, death arrived as the earth gave birth to a new day at midnight. god, we were witnesses to lifting a decapitated man who was swimming in his own blood and splatted organs under a ten-wheeler truck, somewhere along Sta. Mesa! after which, joseinne and i had some beer at Dapitan Square and had some moments to unwind. we ate sisig (no other choice) just like swallowing a bitter pill, with the incident so fresh, so vivid in our memory. it was way traumatic and freaking..

(random: a line from dave matthews band's grace is gone kept on running through my head--"one more drink and i'll move on.")

the first quarter of our sunday was spent with our usual philo talks. that's what i love about my closest friends.. (and god, how i miss my cousin, too!) i could dedicate my whole day talking with them about anything.. not just about what the skin can feel and what the eyes can behold.. these are stories larger than life--those that uplift the spirit and nurture your being. i guess joseinne got it right when she said, "What we really need are people whom we can share our quotes with." you take an effort to know a little of everything and share a piece of you.. but, whatever happened to those who do? lonely, choosy, and bitter.. her words hit me right, "Look at us." haha!

well, one of the nicest benefits of having your school situated in a naturally low-lying area (thanks for the beautiful phrase in defense of UST river, joycee) is that when you got stranded, you tend to have quality time learning the best lessons of life, apart from books and theories alone.. although getting to a safer place wasn't really that easy. this is, by the way, joseinne's letter M on her blog: crossing the flooded lacson street with tina at one in the morning and while both of us were tipsy. yup, almost knee-high flood + booze + 1 a.m. + idiots like us = relentless laughter. but then again, it was amazing how our feet drenched on the same water within which the early-morning people of Manila painstakingly take steps to make a living. i shudder to think how hazy life is in this city.

There hath he lain for ages, and will lie
Battening upon huge seaworms in his sleep,
Until the latter fire shall heat the deep;
Then once by man and angels to be seen,
In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die.
-from The Kraken; Lord Alfred Tennyson (1830)

and then the sun shone through the same ripples that cloaked the life of Dapitan during those serene moments.. one hell of an experience!

kill the e-heads fans instead

2008-08-28T20:52:00.001+08:00

so, mo twister said it...

eraserheads is gonna have its reunion concert this saturday at the CCP. *sigh*
i didn't know how i felt when i first heard it on the radio this morning. it's not because of the P800 or P1300 fee, although, yes, it would have sounded better if the concert was really for free.. hey! don't play hypocrite! we're all in dire need of money, so shut up. although i don't really like mo, i loved it when he said that the game plan was so weak, that the news would just fly into the air like "really? so tapos na yun?"

so what about this strategy? i don't get the point why they had to entice, i mean, lure the people into this much awaited and almost-impossible-but-possible-indeed reunion concert of e-heads for months, only to pull out our wings for a gayer and more desperate situation. i must admit, i want it badly! but i have to come up with excuses and lame reasons to convince myself that i would not, in any way, be able to watch it.

so here are some of my childish speculations. let's just say that the e-heads concert has been announced formally, following the normal scheme of promoting gigs and other major events. whether or not the tickets are for free, it would sure as hell cause panic among e-heads fanatics. ticketnet would be swarmed with an irate mob, wherein people would kill each other with violent blows of smashes and jabs just to secure a single pass for each. there would be a riot outside their main office, after which meddlesome poser youth on skateboards and emo costumes would wrap the vicinity, squeezing voodoo dolls on every hole they see. then they would take out their mini tear gas canisters that they use as self defense from TBS/TST gangsters, take the caps off and then throw them on glass windows for the gas to squirt all over the office.. honestly, i doubt it if no posers would show up their faces in the concert. they make a quarter of the population of the Philippines and they are present at every corner in the country.

or maybe, if the public was properly informed about the event, and that it would be an open concert like those graced by aspiring rock bands (oh well, it pains me, but let's give them the license to be called as such this time) like cueshe and shamrock on liquor-sponsored gigs on barangay halls, then the rest of the humanity who are desperately in love with e-heads would flock to the venue, step onto each other's throat and murder their fellow audience in ripples and waves. they would eventually reach the stage and kill the members of e-heads themselves, taking a piece of limb one by one for souvenirs. oh how i love eric gamalinda's las ruinas del corazon! (i guess this would make a good episode for happy tree friends.)

so now i thank the producers for making the event less-accessible to the public; at least nobody's gonna get harmed. wow! one shining halo for me!

well, i'm not a die-hard e-heads fan, but i love their music down to my last bone.. and now i hate myself for stooping down into the level of being a total dork for signing up for the red list of Marlboro last month, just to have a one-in-a-million chance of securing a ticket for this event.. well, you have to prove first that you are of legal age before being able to pursue with the application, and it was hell! now i think i lost my passport without even having it scanned (procrastination is the biggest tag on my vocabulary). look at what i had to do to sink my teeth into this thing.. and now the concert is just two days away and i still don't have a ticket (i don't even know if they are still available at this time) and a companion, so there are no other means for me to crash in but, yeah, crash in! as if i can, and as if i will...

(see what happens to journalism students after cracking their brains empty with nosebleed lectures on literature, capped with as-if-we-care provisions on taxation during thursdays? and mind you, today is the 28th -- my most unfortunate date -- or at least i started writing this blog on that date. sorry, i just don't have anything productive to do tonight so i played with my keyboard... shoot me.)

newspapers will eventually be like dinosaurs

2008-08-25T21:03:00.007+08:00

no, it's not that your favorite daily thinking slabs will become extremely gigantic..

i stumbled into this Inquirer.net news about a metrowide protest vs VAT for wage hike on thursday, and got alamed, not just of what is about to unfold the next three days, but because of the threatening growth of internet broadcast, that it would possibly eat the newspaper industry alive!

Inquirer was fast enough to update the world with the latest whatever, i mean WHATEVER, that the same article i read was posted just about the same time i started doing this blog, and now i'm freakin' scared of what lies ahead after graduation, and it doubles day after day, especially when people talk about the future extinction of newspapers and readers. yes, you read it right. READERS. it's not surprising that more people now subscribe to podcasts than spend their time reading, so how's that? will there be enough place for aspiring writers? or should we imagine ourselves venturing the cyberspace just to give a slice of justice to that piece of parchment called diploma?

my time frame is decaying. my energy needs oil change and iron pumps. my body clock shouts for new Ultimate Lithium batteries. my virtual calendar is in dire need of check-up... and oh, i'm having an LSD! (that's Lack of Soul Disease for you... i learned that from my classmate, Aphrodite) maybe i'm still infected with a lot of graveyard shift diseases that ran in my blood for almost two years, not to mention the circus in school and the overly-polluted metro manila.

i dunno where else this would go... i just feel that my habitual asking of "What day is it today?" should now be "What's in today?" thanks for blogs and online social networks. we're somehow used to this kind of thing.. and to Sir Atalia's workshop, too. we're used to "almost anything."

so after graduation....

HELLO CYBERSPACE!!!

eXXXcuses

2008-08-25T16:11:00.000+08:00

presenting...

the descendants of the queen of the blondes!!!

and their unlucky kids....

School Excuses from Parents
SUPPOSEDLY these are actual excuse notes from parents (with the original spelling) collected from schools all around the United States.

****************
My son is under a doctor's care and shouldn't take PE today. Please execute him. (thanks to Delores Maldeos)

Amy did not do her homework last night because we went out to a party and did not get home until late. If she is tired, please let her sleep during recess time.

Diane was late on Wednesday. She fell asleep on the bus and was taken back to the bus yard.

Please excuse my son from being absent yesterday, because there is a river in our house.

Please excuse Tommy for being absent yesterday. He had diarrheea and his boots leak.

Henry stayed home because he had a stomach ache from eating too much frosting.

Ralph was absent yesterday because of a sour throat.

Please excuse Lisa for being absent. She was sick, so I had her shot.

Please exscuse John from being absent Jan. 28, 29, 30, 31, 32 and also 33.

Cody was absent yesterday because we were out bowling until 2 AM.

Gloria was absent yesterday as she was having a gangover.

Please excuse Gloria from Jim today. She is administrating.

It was my fault Mike did not do his math homework last night. His pencil broke and we do not have a pencil sharpener at home.

Please excuse Roland from PE for a few days. Yesterday he fell out of a tree and misplaced his hip.

Please excuse Wayne for being out yesterday. He had the fuel.

John has been absent from school because he had two teeth taken out of his face.

Tommy wasn't in school yesterday because he thought it was Saturday.

Please excuse Lupe. She is having problems with her ovals.

Scott didn't practice last night because he lost his tooth in the mouthpiece of his trumpet.

Carlos was absent yesterday because he was playing football. He was hurt in the growing part.

Megan could not come to school today because she has been bothered by very close veins.

Ralph was absent yesterday because he had a sore trout.

Jerry was at his grandmother's yesterday, and she did not bring him to school because Jerry couldn't remember where the school was.

Chris will not be in school today cus he has an acre in his side.

Please excuse my daughter's absence. She had her periodicals.

Please excuse my son. He will be out next week slaughtering goats for his manhood ritual. Thank you!

Please excuse Ray from school Friday. He had very loose vowels.

Please excuse Burma, she has been sick and under the doctor.

George was absent yesterday because he had a stomach.

Irving was absent yesterday because he missed his bust.

Please excuse Jimmy from being. It was his father's fault.

Ronnie would not finish his work last night. He said his brain was too tired of spelling.

I kept Billie home because she had to go Christmas shopping because I don't know what size she wears.

Please excuse Jennifer for missing school yesterday. We forgot to get the Sunday paper off the porch and when we found it Monday, we thought it was Sunday.

Sally won't be in school a week from friday. We have to attend her funeral.

My daughter was absent yesterday because she was tired. She spent a weekend with the Marines.

Please excuse Jason for being absent yesterday. He had a cold and could not breed well.

Please excuse Mary for being absent yesterday. She was in bed with gramps.

Eric hurt his knee in a karate tournament over the weekend. He won his age group, but was in too much pain to do his math assignment.

Maryann was absent December 11-16 because she had a fever, sore throat, headache and upset stomach. Her sister was also sick, fever and sore throat, her brother had a low grade fever and ached all over. I wasn't the best either, sore throat and fever. There must be something going around, her father even got hot last night.

The basement of our house got flooded where the children sleep so they had to be vaporized.

Please forgive Clarence for being absent from school the past few days. He was home sick from an operation. He had penis trouble and had to be serpent-sized.

Please excuse little Jimmy from missing school yesterday. His father is gone and I could not get him ready because I was in bed with the Doctor.

****************
© 2008 compiled from many sources by Howard Daughters

before sunrise: a sort of review :p

2008-08-12T06:56:00.001+08:00

dear God,

give me an Ethan Hawke.

someone i will meet on a subway
whose mind i will get to know first
before all the pleasures on earth

someone who still believes in ghosts and fairy tales
whose stories are fresh, innocent, young and new
whose thoughts thrust the deepest

someone i'd love to see when i close my eyes
whose face, lovely as the sunrise
and painful as the sunset

someone whose smile brings new life to the morning
whose voice, cold as the moonless night
his mere sigh completes this journey

we'd be talking forever
about life, dreams, love, and passion
stardust would fall on our hands, and we are married

give us a palmist, a pianist, and playwrights
and people who will drive us crazy,
we'd be lying down the grass, kissing underneath the endless sky

bring us on top of the city
where we can see the lights fading
the world waning, 'til it's just the two of us

and we will meet a poet by the riverside
who will sing away the troubles of our lonely past
and write our story over milk shake and cigarettes

bring us to the cemetery
where we can bury our fears of death
and remind us that tomorrow, our hearts will die in grief

for that man, whom i will meet on a subway
will be the sweetest enemy of my fate
with whom saying goodbye will be the hardest

but let our paths cross again after some years
and give us not a single minute to blame
ourselves, for breaking our promise

grant us, o Lord, the night we had together
i will hold him tight and kiss him
'til we finally consume, all, before sunrise...

Julie

walking in mid-air

2008-08-10T21:40:00.000+08:00

i never thought this day would end swiftly as a verse that falls to the soul like dew to the pasture...

The Day the Saucers Came
by Neil Gaiman

That day, the saucers landed. Hundreds of them, golden,
Silent, coming down from the sky like great snowflakes,
And the people of Earth stood and stared as they descended,
Waiting, dry-mouthed to find what waited inside for us
And none of us knowing if we would be here tomorrow
But you didn't notice it because

That day, the day the saucers came, by some coincidence,
Was the day that the graves gave up their dead
And the zombies pushed up through soft earth
or erupted, shambling and dull-eyed, unstoppable,
Came towards us, the living, and we screamed and ran,
But you did not notice this because

On the saucer day, which was the zombie day, it was
Ragnarok also, and the television screens showed us
A ship built of dead-man's nails, a serpent, a wolf,
All bigger than the mind could hold, and the cameraman could
Not get far enough away, and then the Gods came out
But you did not see them coming because

On the saucer-zombie-battling gods day the floodgates broke
And each of us was engulfed by genies and sprites
Offering us wishes and wonders and eternities
And charm and cleverness and true brave hearts and pots of gold
While giants feefofummed across the land, and killer bees,
But you had no idea of any of this because

That day, the saucer day the zombie day
The Ragnarok and fairies day, the day the great winds came
And snows, and the cities turned to crystal, the day
All plants died, plastics dissolved, the day the
Computers turned, the screens telling us we would obey, the day
Angels, drunk and muddled, stumbled from the bars,
And all the bells of London were sounded, the day
Animals spoke to us in Assyrian, the Yeti day,
The fluttering capes and arrival of the Time Machine day,
You didn't notice any of this because

you were sitting in your room, not doing anything
not even reading, not really, just
looking at your telephone,
wondering if I was going to call.

***thanks, monique...

so now this is random

2008-08-09T20:20:00.006+08:00

they say and "we" say that july and august are love months. although there is none to share these overflowing emotions that we get from a handful of heart-melting and subtle lines of great poets with, my friends and i, who are so consumed with the potion of staggering words, found a way to at least size them down into a cupped-hand size, say, to sublime and scale them into something bearable by humans...

"if a woman submits herself to a man with whom she does not feel anything, then there must be a pay for that because she suddenly turned herself into a prostitute..."

"love has its destructive nature..."

"Let me come to be still in your silence
And let me talk to you with your silence
That is bright as a lamp
Simple, as a ring
You are like the night
With its stillness and constellations
Your silence is that of a star As remote and candid"
-- from I Like For You To Be Still; Pablo Neruda
(**it is only in your silence that you can say so much....)

"love is like a strong horse for those who cannot handle it..."

"In that book which is
My memory...
On the first page
That is the chapter when I first met you
Appear the words...
Here begins a new life."
--from La Vita Nuova; Dante Alighieri

"love is not situated in the heart, for it decays when you die..."

"To me he seems a peer of the gods, the man who sits facing
you and hears your sweet voice
and lovely laughter; it flutters my heart in my breast. When I see you
only for a moment, I cannot speak;
my tongue is broken, a subtle fire runs under my skin; my eyes cannot
see, my ears hum;
cold sweat pours off me; shivering grips me all over; I am paler than
grass; I seem near to dying;
but all must be endured..."
--Sappho

"because that is the nature of love, because one walks alone
through the ruins of the heart, because the young must sleep

with their eyes open, because the angels tremble
from so much beauty, because memory moves in orbits

of absence, because she holds her hands out in the rain,
and rain remembers nothing, not even how it became itself."
--from Las Ruinas del Corazon; Mario Eric Gamalinda

and again, I also could not find any way to cut these lines short:

"Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example, "The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance."

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me, and sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight tries to find her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before.
Her voide, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her."
--Tonight I Can Write the Saddest Lines; Pablo Neruda

how a song transcends the soul

2008-08-07T22:43:00.002+08:00

words are not enough to explain as to what extent of glory one suddenly reaches when falling on a deep trance (see the irony? love it!). each song has its own special way of seeping through your bones. the feeling is relative that only you can describe how its fire keeps on burning forever. shoot me for coming up with an unimaginative title and call me whatever you like because at any rate, this is not a "how to" entry.

here's one of the most influential music geniuses of the 80s, the contemporary Christian singer/songwriter Michael W. Smith. probably you're a fellow who grew up with the kind of songs this so-called new generation loves to despise or bastardize nowadays. anyway, another song i love from this music titan is Somewhere, Somehow, which is a duet with an equally great singer, Amy Grant. it's a good toast for hopeless romantics.

i can get hold of the perfect blend of poetry and music in his songs... in his lips, the passion and love for the art... and in his eyes, i can almost see his soul...

i guess this is what you call "real" music.

I Will Be Here for You

When you feel the sunlight
Fade into the cold night
Don't know where to turn
I don't know where to turn
And all the dreams you're dreaming
Seem to lose their meaning
Let me in your world
Baby, let me in your world
All you need is someone you can hold
Don't be sad, you're not alone

I will be here for you
Somewhere in the night
Somewhere in the night
I'll shine a light for you
Somewhere in the night
I'll be standing by
I will be here for you

In this world of strangers
Of cold and friendly faces
Someone you can trust
Oh there's someone you can trust
I will be your shelter
I'll give you my shoulder
Just reach out for my love
Reach out for my love
Call my name and my heart will hear you
I will be there, there's nothing to fear

so far the best date i've ever had

2008-08-07T06:13:00.000+08:00

instead of spending P200 over a glass of ice-cold frappe in an irksome, social-climber-infested place, why don't you go on asking a beggar out for a date? believe me, it's rewarding!

i'm not trying to sound like a philanthropist or a wish-a-wish foundation advocate. i didn't even expect that i would be able to experience this kind of thing. in fact, it was a blessing in disguise! i went to Quiapo yesterday without anything on my brain, trying to come up with an interview with the heretics and a cocktail of opportunists that surround the church for God knows how long. i had no plan at all. nada! all i knew was that i wanted to raise the irony in the place; nothing more, nothing less...

i'll try not to go over the details anymore, as this is just like another bullet on my brain. well, maybe tomorrow; maybe later... my fingers never know how to stop...

"i hugged her son. the little angel's touching the piercings on my ear. his giggle was soft... sweet.-- that was by far the most sentimental hug that i have ever felt..."

i seldom go to church, but what happened yesterday was a living proof which reminded me that there is a God.

surfing

2008-08-02T09:35:00.009+08:00

matagal-tagal na rin akong hindi nakakadalaw sa yahoo groups ng Bobong Pinoy, the one dedicated for the love of Bob Ong's books. enjoy sa YG na yan. marami kang malalaman kung ano at paano na ang takbo ng utak ng mga tao ngayon. totoo nga naman, hindi lahat ng Pilipino ay tanga; hindi kagaya ng nirereflect ng mga nakaraan, kasalukyan, at mga susunod pang delubyo sa bansa.

hindi ko alam kung anong gumising sa'kin kanina... basta maaga, kahit umaga na rin akong natulog. hindi ko rin alam kung bakit sa tinagal-tagal na nakatiwangwang ng group na yan sa panel ng account ko sa YG, kanina ko lang naisip makiusisang muli sa mga bobong pilosopo.

bobongpinoy · This is where your taxes go!

ewan ko ba kung matatawa ako o ano. para kasing scene lang sa Lilo and Stitch. sabi nga sa peyborit kong series na Pushing Daisies,

Narrator: At that moment, the Pie Maker felt a mixture of happiness and trepidation.
Ned: Why is it always a mixture?

hindi ko rin alam kung ilang mura at barang pa ang matatanggap ni gory-a and the rest of the politicians na nagmamarunong at nagnanakaw at the same time. na-off nga lang ako kasi sa muling pagbisita ko sa bobong pinoy yg, medyo hindi ko nagustuhan yung ilang laman. tapang kasi ng latest post dun: "Walang Kwenta ang Pilipinas." naisip ko lang, wawa naman ang Pinas.. kawawa na nga, kinakawawa pa. sino ba talaga ang may kasalanan? maaaring "walang kwenta sa Pilipinas", pero hindi "walang kwenta ang Pilipinas."

kung kwentahan na rin lang naman ang pag-uusapan, sino ba talaga ang walang kwenta? saan sa tingin nyo napupunta ang tax na lumalatay sa bawat payslip na tatagal lang ng ilang araw ang laman sa bulsa nyo? ano na ang nangyari sa P16 billion na tax windfall mula sa EVAT ng uber mahal na Dubai oil? ano ba talaga ang nangyari sa bigas? natabunan na ba ng tuluyan ang issue sa kuryente? kamusta na ang mga magsasakang halos tumira na sa gilid ng Department of Agriculture? kailan kakanta ng "low low low" ang mga gasoline boy? malilimutan na lang ba ng tao ang balita ni gory-a na P0.50 na lang per text? lalo bang manganganak at mag-aanak ng mga future magnanakaw at makakagawa na ba sila ng sariling tribo at dialect sa bansa? tataas ba sa 1:10 ang hatian sa isang libro? magiging box office hit bang lalo ang lecture ni ma'am sa sobrang kakapusan sa klasrum? pero bakit ang tataba ng congressmen?

ngayon, sino ba talaga ang may kasalanan?

baka naman ikaw. oo, ikaw. ikaw na walang ginawa kundi mag-internet buong magdamag. ikaw na mahilig dumisplay sa gilid ng salamin ng starbucks, suot ang bago pero kahit anong gawin mo ay goma pa rin, gomang havaianas nga lang. ikaw na wala kunong pakialam pero affected din sa paghataw ng pamasahe all the way to P10. sigurado yan. bilang na lang tayo ng ilang araw. o baka naman may car ka. pero kahit anong kaplastikan gawin mo, aminin mo, affected ka rin sa pagtaas ng presyo ng gasolina.

baka rin ako. akong wala ring ginawa kundi mag-internet magdamag. nag-aaral kunyari pero mas gusto pang mag-blog, makiblog at mang-akit mag-blog.

o baka naman tayo. oo, tayo. tayong mga nagbblog, nakikiblog at nang-aakit mag-blog. tayong mga sulat nang sulat at basa nang basa. baka minsan hindi na rin nakakatulong ng mga salita...

ewan ko. may panahon para tumahimik. ang tanging alam ko lang, sabi nga ng ka-blog kong si zkey, "sa panahong kailangang sumigaw, 'wag kang bubulong-bulong..."

an unrequited love

2008-07-28T21:07:00.005+08:00

i was promenading through an aisle walled with bounty cards in a nearby bookstore, looking for something to give my cousins and grandma offshore, when something caught my attention and stole my senses; then i began falling into a deep trance.

"You are a lover of words...
One day you will write a book.

People turn to you because you give voices to dreams, notice little things, and make otherwise impossible imaginings appear real.
You are a rare bird who thinks the world is beautiful enough to try to figure it out, who has the courage to dive into your wild mind and go swimming there.
You are someone who still believes in cloud watching, people watching, daydreaming, tomorrow, favorite colors, silver clouds, dandelions, and sorrow.
Be sacred.
Be cool.
Be wild.
Go far.
Words do more than plant miracle seeds.
With you writing them, they can change the world."

i guess this gives a writer the recognition, more than what the Ramon Magsaysay and Palanca Awards can do.
only words can equal the greatness of another.

bullets on my brain:

a writer writes with all the purity and perfection of the craft, even though nobody reads him.
it takes real wisdom to understand poetry.
it's seldom that writers find great thinkers with whom they can share their thoughts. the magic is within their circle and those who can hang on the edges of their fancies.
people are used to despising things they do not know or that which they fail to understand.
the sweetest marriage is that which occurs between the writer and his pen - the union of the spiritual and the real; the flight of senses; the perfect harmony of words, rhythm, and sound.
words don’t always come easy.
having that tiny cursor religiously blinking against a virtual sheet of paper for quite a long while is a scenario which is common to most writers and writer-wannabes.
"as a writer, you have to grow accustomed to rejection slips and to working in solitude"-blissful begonia
"a writer is like a boxer in that he must stand alone; when his work is published, his talent is held out there for everyone to see."-Josh Hartnett as Eric Kernan; Resurrecting the Champ
writing is not just a passion; it's a part of one's being.

(*thanks to blissful begonia for the picture and her beautiful quote)

a perfect sunday morning

2008-07-13T09:29:00.004+08:00

In the stifling heat of Tubbataha North Islet, a park ranger counts Red-footed Booby nests. Bird assessors are allowed on Tubbataha’s islets only once a year to conduct the count.
- Photo By Anton Carag of The Philippine Star

if only i could stretch my wings and soar

like a bird on top of the ocean blue

as high as the clouds that frolic

in a chilly wind, I will hold my breath

and feel its gentle rush

against my face, as I sing the last verse

but my hands are feathers no more

and my feet are far heavier, laden with sin

I'll be walking one moonlit night

to wipe the ocean's tears

and fill my heart with joy

as I wait for the coming of a new day

don't you just hate revivals?

2008-07-04T14:29:00.001+08:00

i don't know if i just loathe the thought of bringing classic songs into the mainstream media or if it's the unimaginative copycat artists' rendition which dreadfully screw acclaimed compositions, that whenever i hear their lopsided so-called "rebirth", my auditory nerves faint in disgust.

"Leave the classics alone," is what i always say, should there sprout a petty argument on revivals. why can't artists make their own songs? i suppose it would be so painful to be acclaimed for something you do not really own.

considering the fact that not everyone has bagged the absolute gift of music, say, only a few are able to write their own lines, i still believe that it is not a viable excuse for digging songs that were staying holy through the test of ages, silent in antiquity but never forgotten and are still celebrated by music enthusiasts, and owning the credit after fashioning them with their gory styles. that, i think, is so unfair, after all, some radio stations are still devoted to keep the classic songs alive, so why would there be any need to put them back in the mainstream?

renditions can only lead to a massive shift towards the death of classics. i see them as victims of these young hopefuls who are desperately venturing their way to stardom, while killing the legacy that a certain song has earned.

topping my hit list are the vexatious local artists and bands like MYMP, Nina, Arnee Hidalgo, Jed Madela, Shamrock and 6 Cycle Mind. they failed to capture the appeal of the original songs, thus the genesis of their caricatures.

you may want to poke me and ask me why the hell am i listening to them in the first place, but who can ever escape loud stereos in public vehicles and establishments? that's the problem! they are now dragged into the mainstream media, so you can hear these songs being played by bystanders in every street corner, which is so irksome.

sweet melodies are otherwise listened to by shit music advocates, emos, and plain desperate, hopeless romantics. plus the fact that with their "rebirth", classic songs rapidly become attached to corny love teams and half-cooked teeny-bopper movies, and are sung by those who send messages like "OMG he's so HOT!" "that's k3wL!", and those that, as what i have read in some teenage posts, often write in their online journals, "I lOvE jAsOn hE iS sO HotT I waNna Kiz hiM!!!!" and when asked about their favorite hobby, they all scream like sluts, "SHOPPING!!!!" never mind if going to Starbucks means a week of fasting. flaunting. yes, pure flaunting.

keeping up with the times does not suffice any defense for the misrepresentation of the classics. do it with a renowned artwork and you won't have to wait for a minute to get youself killed with raining stones. has anyone seen Mona Lisa in tube blouse and American curls?

Tambay Pinoy: 90s Pinoy Music

2008-06-22T13:01:00.008+08:00

A different light dawned upon the revolution of music during the last decade of the 20^thcentury. As the society became less conservative, music became more aggressive. People, including the youth, could be found merry-making in almost every street corner. With this kind of attitude, Filipino music started to evolve into a less-metered, laid-back fashion, breaking the rules of standard music.

There came the hip-hop Pinoy—the likes of Indios Bravos, and rap, which depicted the realities of living in slums and less-likely-to-live-in areas, and their daily plights.

Francis “Kiko” Magalona was one of the most renowned rappers of the Philippines. As his title says, “Master Rapper,” he became an influential icon within the genre. He was also one of the proponents of Tagalog-English rap, while rapping politically conscious and thought-provoking rhymes. His songs marked the birth of makabayan or nationalistic rap in Filipino hip hop.

Although many people are saying that the birth of Andrew E’s music killed the true OPM rap, no one could ever deny that his songs somehow made its own mark.

Para sa Masa

Who would ever say they did not know Alapaap, Toyang, Magasin, Huling El Bimbo, and Ligaya? Those are just a finger count of Eraserhead’s hits.

The Eraserheads (E-Heads) became a prominent Pinoy rock band of the 90s. its members include the ever famous Ely Buendia, Raimund Marasigan, Buddy Zabala and Marcus Adoro. They worked both in the underground and mainstream scenes of the Philippine music industry.

What’s good with this band is that they did not only write songs of love the way poets did, but added more impression, they way a typical Pinoy share courtly love. Like the Beatles, their songs are not exact poetry in the sense that they did not follow the standard number of lines and did not even use candy-coated words to revamp their music; instead, they made use of mockery and satire.

Not only were they exceptional in making songs of love, the Eraserheads also marked the OPM streams with their hard-hitting songs about serious problems of Pinoy. Poverty, corruption and injustice.

Poorman’s Grave

I know a man who had nothing
He was a poor man all his life
He lived in a shack by the roadside
With starving kids and a loving wife

He went to church every Sunday
He prays from morning until night, he said
Good Lord, why have you forsaken me
When everything I did I thought was right

Refrain:
Now my Life is coming to an end
There’s only one thing I’m wishing for
All my days I have never sinned
So I hope you wont ignore
What I’m asking for

Chorus I:
Oh honey when I die
Dress me up in a coat and tie
Give my feet a pair of shoes
That I haven’t wore in a long time
Put me in a golden box
Not a cross on a pile of rocks
Bury me where the grass is green
And the gates are shining

Chorus II:
Oh honey when I die
Give me a bed of roses
Where I could lie
I’m gonna use up all the money that I saved
‘Coz I don't wanna lie in a poor man’s grave

I know a man who had nothing
He dreamed of satin sheets all his life
He lived and worked like a dog
Licking every boot he sees just to survive

He comes home drunk every night
Wakes up the kids and talks to his wife, he said
Honey you have been so good to me
I only wish we had a better life

Refrain:
And now my life’s coming to an end
There’s only one thing I’m wishing for
All my days I have lived in shame
So I hope you won’t ignore
Just what I’m asking for

Chorus II:
Oh honey when I die
Give me a bed of roses
Where I could lie
I’m gonna use up all the money that I saved
‘Coz I don’t wanna lie in a poor man’s

Oh honey when I die
Give me a bed of roses
Where I could lie
I’m gonna use up all the money that I saved
‘Coz I don’t wanna lie in a poor man’s grave

Poorman’s grave shows the perfect irony of life. It is an eye-opener, a call for everyone that there are a lot of people who suffer deeply that in their last refuge, the only thing they are wishing for is a decent death, that in their last stay in the soils of earth, they would remember that the claws of poverty is not at them forever.

(this is a recycled blog, originally from our Art Appreciation project last semester: Writerscollide)

Lee Pace Promotes ‘Daisies’ in Monte Carlo

2008-06-15T15:36:00.003+08:00

Published by Mel on June 11th, 2008
http://pushing-daisies.com/

Lee promoted Pushing Daisies at the Monte Carlo Television Festival this week, sharing some thoughts on season 2:

Will Ned and Chuck ever be able to touch? Is there a way out of that rule?
No, no way out! They can’t. Ned and Chuck will never touch. If I touch her, she’s dead.

Doesn’t that make you sad?
No. It’s good. It gives us something to play. It would be cheating if somehow we made it to the fifth season, and there’s a special trick, like I hold my ear while I touch her it becomes OK. We have to keep the integrity of it.

Do you feel that’s the heart of the show?
Yes, this show is very much about secrets and people who can’t connect with each other. Ned can’t touch anyone, Olive can’t connect with the man she loves, and the aunts can’t get out of their house. It’s about people who can’t connect and have lots and lots of secrets, and in the second season, which we start shooting on Monday, we really start digging up those secrets.

Will Ned and Chuck start seeing other people in season two?
Maybe. One of the big things that happens at the beginning of the second season is that Chuck moves out. So it’s not going to be easy anymore for Ned. It’s good. They need to see other people.

Is there a moral lesson we’re supposed to take from a show where the lovers don’t sleep together?
That wasn’t the intention. Some people in America have interpreted it like that, and I don’t think it’s a bad thing. These are two people who love each other very much and choose to be together even though they’re never going to get drunk and sleep together. It’s not that show. I think it’s kind of sexy that they can’t touch. It’s the longest foreplay ever.

(from E! Online)

I ran naked with my lover because I love to snort cocaine

2008-06-12T03:41:00.000+08:00

got this from huie's site... nice one, but mine is a bit corny, so i used my favorite number instead! :)

Select the month you were born in:

1 (Jan) - I stabbed
2 (Feb) - I needed
3 (Mar) - I ran naked with
4 (Apr) - I killed
5 (May) - I jumped
6 (June)- I smoked with
7 (July) - I ran shirtless with
8 (Aug) - I banged
9 (Sept) - I shot
10 (Oct) - I robbed
11 (Nov) -I slapped
12 (Dec) - I cuddled with

Pick the day (number) you were born on:

01 - the trojan man
02 - a homeless guy
03 -a homo
04 - A mop**
05 - a dog
06 - a rock star
07 - Paris Hilton
08 - my lover
09 - a toothbrush
10 - my boyfriend
11 - a glass of milk
12 - a teletubby
13 - the cookie monster
14 - a drunk
15 - a crack head
16 - a cat
17 - a bum
18 - a whore
19 - a hobo
20 - a stripper
21 - a porn star
22 - Barney the dinosaur
23 - the kool-aid man
24 - an easter egg
25 - my ex girlfriend
26 - a hottie
27 - a bag of weed
28 - a french fry
29 - your mom
30 - a bowl of cereal
31 - jezzy the snowman

Pick the color of shirt you are wearing:

White - because that bitch stole my taco
Black - because I love marijuana
Pink - because I’m good in bed
Red - because I have AMAZING boobs
Brown - because I still love him
Polka Dots - because I hate my life
Purple - because I’m gay
Grey - because I’m sexy like that
Other - because I have double D’s
Green - because I love to snort cocaine.
Orange - because I smoke crack
Turquoise - because I have a noodle in my nose
Blue - because I'm the sexiest bitch alive
Tye dye - because I'm a fucking scuba diver
None - because I have a killer six pack

What's your crazy situation?

belching words

2008-06-03T16:55:00.000+08:00

young tina was 16 years, six months, 14 days, 13 hours, and 15 minutes old when she discovered that her reflexes were easily stimulated in such an extraordinary manner, that her impulses were disposed off as mechanic hazardous reactions.

so much for my Pushing Daisies drama!

anyway - a reminder as constant as diarrhea - PD episode 4, "Girth", will be aired tonight on 2nd Avenue, at 8 p.m.

******************
most of the time, i get to have full control of what my hands and feet would do, in case of extreme irritation and displeasure. i get to control anger before it starts to control me.

the problem begins when my mouth starts to blaze off. i just don't know how to kill its fire.

you are free to think of whatever you want, but scenes start playing on my mind after a commotion. sometimes, i find myself murmuring my supposed-to-be lines, which have flown away while i was at the height of anger.

i don't know, but i don't always end up doing what i say when i'm mad, although sometimes, or most of the time they are half-meant, plus the fact that i'm not good at oral communication, it's just that i feel relieved whenever i get the last word... or that the world stops when i stopped talking.

it's a bit selfish of me, but i know when to defend myself and when to shut up.

UB fragments

2008-05-26T16:52:00.002+08:00

it has almost been two years since i started working for ICT as a part-time agent. a lot of things happened within my employment-- most of which are good. however, with the company's attitude of sending agents across its sites, trying to utilize a rather wise strategy, but so oblivious to the fact that the game plan is gradually deteriorating the company itself, one third of my stay with ICT has become nothing more than a painful extinction.

ironically, being in the call center industry did not make me any richer.

at around 8 p.m., i finally went back to Unionbank Plaza (UB, as what we fondly call it), to pass a letter of intent, stating my request to be accommodated in Ortigas once more. i was really having a hard time following my schedule in Marikina, that it has affected me in a lot of ways, especially in terms of money.

earlier, as i reached the rear side of Megamall, which i promised myself to avoid until they bring me back to UB, i started to literally walk down the memory lane.

i remembered the time when i was desperately in need of a job. it was the second semester of my second year in college, and for someone who has just turned 18 then, claiming the responsibility of looking for whatever means to pursue my studies was gargantuan.

it was clear as crystal, the day i submitted my resume, and was told by an interviewer, who happened to have the same fate as mine when she was in college, to wait until an account would be willing to accommodate part-time agents. after a week, i returned to ask for an update, got an affirmative response from the same person, underwent a series of interviews and examinations, and got hired the same day. i could probably mark that as one of my luckiest days.

on my way to UB, bittersweet memories came swiftly like vibrant snapshots, as the smell of Julia Vargas Ave. burned in my nostrils. (o, 'wag ka nang sumagot. di sunog ilong ko. metaphor lang yan.)

i saw the pavement across the parking area, where i dived after trying to execute my limbo rock skills under a warning strip, in an effort to catch up at the 7 p.m. orientation. people were so amazed of my exhibition, that i heard gasps and giggles around me. i still cannot figure out how i got a coin-sized wound on my knee, without having a single hole in my perfectly-fitted slacks. i suppose you can surmise what happened as it started drying up and sticking to my pants during the orientation.

McDonald's (Julia Vargas) made me stare at a nearby bar, where my former account, Capital One, celebrated its 2006 Christmas party.

Emerald Avenue reminded me of our 3 or 4 a.m. lunch (if you can still call it as such) at Jollibee, KFC, or Greenwich, wherein i was always being stared at because i was usually wearing my uniform, after taking a quick shower at the 12th floor, getting ready for my 7 a.m. class.

the appetizing smell of the poorly-ventilated Erap Strata foodcourt is nostalgic, as it brings back our fishball-and-gulaman food trip memories.

not much has changed in UB, except for new faces and new guards... swarm of people came in and out.. still, i failed to see whom i expected.

i just hope i would be able to work in ICT Ortigas again.

When Nietzsche Wept

2008-05-23T10:16:00.000+08:00

"Death only loses its terror when almost consummated."
-Professor Friedrich Nietzsche

i have always had the eagerness to learn about this philosopher, who, having a name as strong as his authority in language, is definitely among the most influential thinkers of his time.

the story was not actually focused on his life, but one would get a glimpse of how powerful his mind was. Freud was also featured in the movie. i just didn't expect that it would be as comic as it was presented. anyway, i still loved their lines.. most of which are quotable, especially on how painful it is for men to accept the fact that they are vulnerable to depression, when it comes to women. oh well, feminism! :)

as the country mourns for Ka Bel...

2008-05-21T17:42:00.012+08:00

the untimely death of Anakpawis Rep. Crispin "Ka Bel" Beltran is a big loss to the Philippine legislative body.

i can almost count, with my ten fingers alone, the names of congressmen who are consistent in terms of formulating significant pieces of legislation, aimed at alleviating the people's plight. Rep. Beltran, along with the other progressive party-list representatives, was always one of them.

in an article published today on the Philippine Star, with no less than my trainer, Sir Delon, as the principal author, it was reported that Ka Bel yesterday accidentally "fell as he was coming down after fixing the roof of his house. Doctors at the Far Eastern University (FEU) Hospital in Fairview, Quezon City tried to revive the lawmaker, who was unconscious for more than two hours."

he was pronounced dead at 11:48 a.m., several hours after the accident, which happened at around 6 a.m. he died of lacerations on the head and brain injuries.

"You're dying, and suddenly everybody loves you." - Dr. Gregory House

at around five in the afternoon after the House session adjourned earlier than the 7 p.m. schedule, the lobby of the north wing looked as if it were a chapel as congressmen and friends took turns in lighting candles, expressing their sympathy to the family of Ka Bel.

Speaker Prospero Nograles said, “We are saddened by the accident that befell our feisty and most esteemed colleague. He is the staunchest voice for the welfare of workers and masses in the House. We are shocked. He is a big loss to the institution."

“It really bleeds our hearts to lose a colleague at this untimely hour of our nation’s life. Ka Bel is not only a friend and a brother, he is a man whose passion is to serve others,” he added.

An unfinished business

rep. beltran was on his third and last term as a congressman - his first being for Bayan Muna, and the other two years for Anakpawis Party-list. he is among the three lawmakers in the 240-member 14th Congress who did not live to finish their terms.

on that afternoon, Bayan Muna Party-list representatives were expecting him to join them in filing a bill to remove the VAT on electricity. they, however, said, "We shall push through the filing of the bill and include Ka Bel's name as a co-author, in honor of his dedication to the struggles of our oppressed and marginalized people."

Ka Bel, once said that when the time comes for him to die, he would want it to happen while in a massive demonstration, say, he would have a cardiac arrest while raising arms against the oppressive government... but it was just not how things worked for him.

San Juan Rep. Ronaldo Zamora said, "It was so characteristic of this patriot and nationalist that he should die while fixing the roof for his own house, doing things by himself, rather than sending out for professional help, fixing the roof that shelters every Filipino worker, and living the life of a real Filipino advocate until the very end."

i just hope that if ever he would intend to do a spirit-visit in the congress, it would be very slight. everyone can tolerate minimal curtain movements and wind chills, as long as chairs and computers would not fly across the rooms.

as the country mourns for Ka Bel, more people fight for truth and democracy
as the country mourns for Ka Bel, more groups stand up to continue his advocacy

my pen will surely miss inking for the name of Rep. Beltran on my articles.

in the name of tragedy

2008-05-21T10:40:00.000+08:00

crying is healthy. we all know that. sometimes, there are certain conditions wherein we can't find the remedy from hugs and taps on the shoulder alone.

due to an identifiable force that screws me every 28th of the month, i get to have serene moments, although most of them are merely products of great misfortune-- blessings in disguise!

these past few days, i was trying to look at myself from a different perspective. if only i could detach from my body, then i could have taken that as a great escape. as i become closer to dissecting my innermost mantle of being, i felt as if my life was rocked by disasters that knocked my knees down and left me dead sick. well, at least they were not as hard as hell, that i wouldn't be able to stand up anymore.

songs do help ease anyone's burden. having that tiny round speakers on your lobes is unbelievably therapeutic! it's just that in my case, it is almost transcendental, that whenever i travel between far-off places, i only get to have my senses back when it's almost time to alight, or when i'm already blocks away from where i should go (thanks for having extremely powerful leg muscles).

whenever i listen, i do it from my heart. whenever i sing, my body dances in exhilaration.. and whenever i cry, i bleed as if no man has ever experienced any pain before.

i just don't know how to fix myself now.

waste bin

2008-05-16T07:36:00.004+08:00

this is total waste. i just have to spit a couple of rubbish out, so i can breathe again... oh, well..

iniisip ko:
when i was young, i developed this feeling of disgust towards people who did nothing but complain about their ill-fated relationships, heartaches, and their inability to cope with the most recent humanitarian catastrophes they encountered. little did i know that as i started growing up, i could hardly escape being in that stage. it's normal, isn't it?

although there are no relationships to cry buckets of tears for, i subscribed into foisting vicarious experiences, which define my mood for a certain day, and worsen my emotions as they drag me into long weeks of agony. i am good at fermenting self-inficted pain.

just last tuesday, as i walked alone on the empty road of Batasan, with the "Pushing Daisies" song running circles in my head, i discovered this very much unwanted weakness: that i am bad at leaving my excess baggage behind-- that i'm having a hard time moving on.

the same applies in every aspect of my life, be it lost things, conflicts, failure, friends... name it.

and oh, i almost forgot (i told you this is crap), "Bright, Sun-shiny Day" is not exclusively for "Pushing-Daisies." it actually isn't even included in the soundtrack. it was just selected by 2nd Avenue to present my most recently loved series and Hugh Laurie's House. i'm also not sure if the title i believed to be right is right. limewire is just so misleading!

paano kaya:
por favor, MRT patrons, give yourselves and your fellow passengers some respect. taking a bath and brushing your teeth won't horribly jack-up your water consumption rates.

i'm sure to have weak lungs for painfully holding my breath for so long. honestly, i'd rather sniff black smoke from the overly-polluted EDSA, or the stinky vapor from a cow's butt.

kapag dumating:
overall, grades are just a record of how inspired and motivated you were during your school years.

ang oras:
changes come as soon as people become so familiar with a certain situation. why does it always have to be that way?

na tuluyang:
sa sobrang init ng mga nagdaang araw,
tila hindi na sanay ang mga tao sa ulan

nagkabuhol-buhol ang trapik
nagkagulo ang mga tao

may banggaan

(pwede ring basahin simula sa huli. pinilit ko lang. walang kokontra. :p)
--para sa nangyaring banggaan sa may Araneta, Cubao, lunes ng hatinggabi noong nakaraang linggo.

mawalan ako:
i keep on listening to that song-- the one which i believed to be a part of "Pushing Daisies"-- which is in total opposition to what's happening with me.

ng gana:
kadalasan, akala mo gutom ka, pero hindi pala. natatakam ka lang sa kinakain ng katabi o nakasalubong mo.

sa pagsusulat:
how i write poems, i don't even know
blood fills my hands in a rush
to craft words unspoken, soft and new
nightmares that cripple the soul

my arms no longer recognize
the flames dying in my veins, i resist
must there be no minute without agony?
perhaps forever will this persist

my passion for writing has frozen
too delicate for a day's journey
yet it keeps the treasures of earth untouched
and enkindle, should finally i arise against the snares of time

100 Best Things About Being A Filipino

2008-05-10T16:50:00.000+08:00

since uso naman ngayon ang mahabaang posts within my network, eto pa isa!

i've been keeping this on my ymail drafts folder for years. i just don't know to whom should i give the credit. sorry! :)

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FROM the 1896 Revolution to the first Philippine Republic, the Commonwealth period, the EDSA Revolt, and the tiger cub economy, history marches on. Thankfully, however, some things never change. Like the classics, things irresistibly Pinoy mark us for life. They're the indelible stamp of our identity, the undeniable affinity that binds us like twins. They celebrate the good in us, the best of our culture and the infinite possibilities we are all capable of. Some are so self-explanatory you only need mention them for fellow Pinoys to swoon or drool. Here, from all over this Centennial-crazed country and in no particular order, are a hundred of the best things that make us unmistakably Pinoy.

Merienda. Where else is it normal to eat five times a day?
Sawsawan. Assorted sauces that guarantee freedom of choice, enough room for experimentation and maximum tolerance for diverse tastes. Favorites: toyo't calamansi, suka at sili, patis.
Kuwan, ano. At a loss for words? Try these and marvel at how Pinoys understand exactly what you want.
Pinoy humor and irreverence. If you're api and you know it, crack a joke. Nothing personal, really.
Tingi. Thank goodness for small entrepreneurs. Where else can we buy cigarettes, soap, condiments and life's essentials in small affordable amounts?
Spirituality. Even before the Spaniards came, ethnic tribes had their own anitos, bathalas and assorted deities, pointing to a strong relationship with the Creator, who or whatever it may be.
Po, opo, mano po. Speech suffixes that define courtesy, deference, filial respect--a balm to the spirit in these aggressive times.
Pasalubong. Our way of sharing the vicarious thrills and delights of a trip, and a wonderful excuse to shop without the customary guilt.
Beaches! With 7,000 plus islands, we have miles and miles of shoreline piled high with fine white sand, lapped by warm waters, and nibbled by exotic tropical fish. From the stormy seas of Batanes to the emerald isles of Palawan--over here, life is truly a beach.
Bagoong. Darkly mysterious, this smelly fish or shrimp paste typifies the underlying theme of most ethnic foods: disgustingly unhygienic, unbearably stinky and simply irresistible.
Bayanihan. Yes, the internationally-renowned dance company, but also this habit of pitching in still common in small communities. Just have that cold beer and some pulutan ready for the troops.
The Balikbayan box. Another way of sharing life's bounty, no matter if it seems like we're fleeing Pol Pot every time we head home from anywhere in the globe. The most wonderful part is that, more often than not, the contents are carted home to be distributed.
Pilipino komiks. Not to mention "Hiwaga," "Aliwan," "Tagalog Classics," "Liwayway" and"Bulaklak" magazines. Pulpy publications that gave us Darna, Facifica Falayfay, Lagalag, Kulafu, Kenkoy, Dyesebel, characters of a time both innocent and worldly.
Folk songs. They come unbidden and spring, full blown, like a second language, at the slightest nudge from the too-loud stereo of a passing jeepney or tricycle.
Fiesta. Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow is just another day, shrugs the poor man who, once a year, honors a patron saint with this sumptuous, no-holds-barred spread. It's a Pinoy celebration at its pious and riotous best.
Aswang, manananggal, kapre. The whole underworld of Filipino lower mythology recalls our uniquely bizarre childhood, that is, before political correctness kicked in. Still, their rich adventures pepper our storytelling.
Jeepneys. Colorful, fast, reckless, a vehicle of postwar Pinoy ingenuity, this Everyman's communal cadillac makes for a cheap, interesting ride. If the driver's a daredevil (as they usually are), hang on to your seat.
Dinuguan. Blood stew, a bloodcurdling idea, until you try it with puto. Best when mined with jalape쨚 peppers. Messy but delicious.
Santacruzan. More than just a beauty contest, this one has religious overtones, a tableau of St. Helena's and Constantine's search for the Cross that seamlessly blends piety, pageantry and ritual. Plus, it's the perfect excuse to show off the prettiest ladies--and the most beautiful gowns.
Balut. Unhatched duck's embryo, another unspeakable ethnic food to outsiders, but oh, to indulge in guilty pleasures! Sprinkle some salt and suck out that soup, with gusto.
Pakidala. A personalized door-to-door remittance and delivery system for overseas Filipino workers who don't trust the banking system, and who expect a family update from the courier, as well.
Choc-nut. Crumbly peanut chocolate bars that defined childhood ecstasy before M & M's and Hershey's.
Kamayan style. To eat with one's hand and eschew spoon, fork and table manners--ah, heaven.
Chicharon. Pork, fish or chicken crackling. There is in the crunch a hint of the extravagant, the decadent and the pedestrian. Perfect with vinegar, sublime with beer.
Pinoy hospitality. Just about everyone gets a hearty "Kain tayo!" invitation to break bread with whoever has food to share, no matter how skimpy or austere it is.
Adobo, kare-kare, sinigang and other lutong bahay stuff. Home-cooked meals that have the stamp of approval from several generations, who swear by closely-guarded cooking secrets and family recipes.
Lola Basyang. The voice one heard spinning tales over the radio, before movies and television curtailed imagination and defined grown-up tastes.
Pambahay. Home is where one can let it all hang out, where clothes do not make a man or woman but rather define their level of comfort.
Tricycle and trisikad, the poor Pinoy's taxicab that delivers you at your doorstep for as little as PHPesos3.00, with a complimentary dusting of polluted air.
Dirty ice cream. Very Pinoy flavors that make up for the risk: munggo, langka, ube, mais, keso, macapuno. Plus there's the colorful cart that recalls jeepney art.
Yayas. The trusted Filipino nanny who, ironically, has become a major Philippine export as overseas contract workers. A good one is almost like a surrogate parent--if you don't mind the accent and the predilection for afternoon soap and movie stars.
Sarsi. Pinoy rootbeer, the enduring taste of childhood. Our grandfathers had them with an egg beaten in.
Pinoy fruits. Atis, guyabano, chesa, mabolo, lanzones, durian, langka, makopa, dalanghita, siniguelas, suha, chico, papaya, singkamas--the possibilities!
Filipino celebrities. Movie stars, broadcasters, beauty queens, public officials, all-around controversial figures: Aurora Pijuan, Cardinal Sin, Carlos P. Romulo, Charito Solis, Cory Aquino, Emilio Aguinaldo, the Eraserheads, Fidel V. Ramos, Francis Magalona, Gloria Diaz, Manuel L. Quezon, Margie Moran, Melanie Marquez, Ninoy Aquino, Nora Aunor, Pitoy Moreno, Ramon Magsysay, Richard Gomez, San Lorenzo Ruiz, Sharon Cuneta, Gemma Cruz, Erap, Tiya Dely, Mel and Jay, Gary V.
World class Pinoys who put us on the global map: Lea Salonga, Paeng Nepomuceno, Eugene Torre, Luisito Espinosa, Lydia de Vega-Mercado, Jocelyn Enriquez, Elma Muros, Onyok Velasco, Efren "Bata" Reyes, Lilia Calderon-Clemente, Loida Nicolas-Lewis, Josie Natori.
Pinoy tastes. A dietitian's nightmare: too sweet, too salty, too fatty, as in burong talangka, itlog na maalat, crab fat (aligue), bokayo, kutchinta, sapin-sapin, halo-halo, pastilyas, palitaw, pulburon, longganisa, tuyo, ensaymada, ube haleya, sweetened macapuno and garbanzos. Remember, we're the guys who put sugar (horrors) in our spaghetti sauce. Yum!
The sights. Banaue Rice Terraces, Boracay, Bohol's Chocolate Hills, Corregidor Island, Fort Santiago, the Hundred Islands, the Las Pi?s Bamboo Organ, Rizal Park, Mt. Banahaw, Mayon Volcano, Taal Volcano. A land of contrasts and ever-changing landscapes.
Gayuma, agimat and anting-anting. Love potions and amulets. How the socially-disadvantaged Pinoy copes.
Barangay Ginebra, Jaworski, PBA, MBA and basketball. How the verticaly-challenged Pinoy compensates, via a national sports obsession that reduces fans to tears and fistfights.
People Power at EDSA. When everyone became a hero and changed Philippine history overnight.
San Miguel Beer and pulutan. "Isa pa nga!" and the Philippines' most popular, world-renowned beer goes well with peanuts, corniks, tapa, chicharon, usa, barbecue, sisig, and all manner of spicy, crunchy and cholesterol-rich chasers.
Resiliency. We've survived 400 years of Spanish rule, the US bases, Marcos, the 1990 earthquake, lahar, lambada, Robin Padilla, and Tamagochi. We'll survive Erap.
Yoyo. Truly Filipino in origin, this hunting tool, weapon, toy and merchandising vehicle remains the best way to "walk the dog" and "rock the baby," using just a piece of string.
Pinoy games: Pabitin, palosebo, basagan ng palayok. A few basic rules make individual cunning and persistence a premium, and guarantee a good time for all.
Ninoy Aquino. For saying that "the Filipino is worth dying for,'' and proving it.
Balagtasan. The verbal joust that brings out rhyme, reason and passion on a public stage.
Tabo. All-powerful, ever-useful, hygienically-triumphant device to scoop water out of a bucket _ and help the true Pinoy answer nature's call. Helps maintain our famously stringent toilet habits.
Pandesal. Despite its shrinking size, still a good buy. Goes well with any filling, best when hot.
Jollibee. Truly Pinoy in taste and sensibility, and a corporate icon that we can be quite proud of. Do you know that it's invaded the Middle East, as well?
The butanding, the dolphins and other creatures in our blessed waters. They're Pinoys, too, and they're here to stay. Now if some folks would just stop turning them into daing.
Pakikisama. It's what makes people stay longer at parties, have another drink, join pals in sickness and health. You can get dead drunk and still make it home.
Sing-a-long. Filipinos love to sing, and thank God a lot of us do it well!
Kayumanggi. Neither pale nor dark, our skin tone is beautifully healthy, the color of a rich earth or a mahogany tree growing towards the sun.
Handwoven cloth and native weaves. Colorful, environment-friendly alternatives to polyester that feature skillful workmanship and a rich indigenous culture behind every thread. From the pinukpok of the north to the malong of the south, it's the fiber of who we are.
Movies. Still the cheapest form of entertainment, especially if you watch the same movie several times.
Bahala na. We cope with uncertainty by embracing it, and are thus enabled to play life by ear.
Papaitan. An offal stew flavored with bile, admittedly an acquired taste, but pointing to our national ability to acquire a taste for almost anything.
English. Whether carabao or Arr-neoww-accented, it doubles our chances in the global marketplace.
The Press. Irresponsible, sensational, often inaccurate, but still the liveliest in Asia. Otherwise, we'd all be glued to TV.
Divisoria. Smelly, crowded, a pickpocket's paradise, but you can get anything here, often at rock-bottom prices. The sensory overload is a bonus.
Barong Tagalog. Enables men to look formal and dignified without having to strangle themselves with a necktie. Worn well, it makes any ordinary Juan look marvelously makisig.
Filipinas. They make the best friends, lovers, wives. Too bad they can't say the same for Filipinos.
Filipinos. So maybe they're bolero and macho with an occasional streak of generic infidelity; they do know how to make a woman feel like one.
Catholicism. What fun would sin be without guilt? Jesus Christ is firmly planted on Philippine soil.
Dolphy. Our favorite, ultra-durable comedian gives the beleaguered Pinoy everyman an odd dignity, even in drag.
Style. Something we often prefer over substance. But every Filipino claims it as a birthright.
Bad taste. Clear plastic covers on the vinyl-upholstered sofa, posters of poker-playing dogs masquerading as art, overaccessorized jeepneys and altars--the list is endless, and wealth only seems to magnify it.
Mangoes. Crisp and tart, or lusciously ripe, they evoke memories of family outings and endless sunshine in a heart-shaped package.Mangoes. Crisp and tart, or lusciously ripe, they evoke memories of family outings and endless sunshine in a heart-shaped package.
Unbridled optimism. Why we rank so low on the suicide scale.
Street food: Barbecue, lugaw, banana-cue, fishballs, IUD (chicken entrails), adidas (chicken feet), warm taho. Forget hepatitis; here's cheap, tasty food with gritty ambience.
The siesta. Snoozing in the middle of the day is smart, not lazy.
Honorifics and courteous titles: Kuya, ate, diko, ditse, ineng, totoy, Ingkong, Aling, Mang, etc. No exact English translation, but these words connote respect, deference and the value placed on kinship.
Heroes and people who stood up for truth and freedom. Lapu-lapu started it all, and other heroes and revolutionaries followed: Diego Silang, Macario Sakay, Jose Rizal, Andres Bonifacio, Apolinario Mabini, Melchora Aquino, Gregorio del Pilar, Gabriela Silang, Miguel Malvar, Francisco Balagtas, Juan Luna, Marcelo H. del Pilar, Panday Pira, Emilio Jacinto, Raha Suliman, Antonio Luna, Gomburza, Emilio Aguinaldo, the heroes of Bataan and Corregidor, Pepe Diokno, Satur Ocampo, Dean Armando Malay, Evelio Javier, Ninoy Aquino, Lola Rosa and other comfort women who spoke up, honest cabbie Emilio Advincula, Rona Mahilum, the women lawyers who didn't let Jalosjos get away with rape.
Flora and fauna. The sea cow (dugong), the tarsier, calamian deer, bearcat, Philippine eagle, sampaguita, ilang-ilang, camia, pandan, the creatures that make our archipelago unique.
Pilipino songs, OPM and composers: "Ama Namin," "Lupang Hinirang," "Gaano Ko Ikaw Kamahal," "Ngayon at Kailanman," "Anak," "Handog,""Hindi Kita Malilimutan," "Ang Pasko ay Sumapit"; Ryan Cayabyab, George Canseco, Restie Umali, Levi Celerio, Manuel Francisco, Freddie Aguilar, and Florante--living examples of our musical gift.
Metro Aides. They started out as Imelda Marcos' groupies, but have gallantly proven their worth. Against all odds, they continuously prove that cleanliness is next to godliness--especially now that those darned candidates' posters have to be scraped off the face of Manila!
Sari-sari store. There's one in every corner, offering everything from bananas and floor wax to Band-Aid and bakya.
Philippine National Red Cross. PAWS. Caritas. Fund drives. They help us help each other.
Favorite TV shows through the years: "Tawag ng Tanghalan," "John and Marsha," "Champoy," "Ryan, Ryan Musikahan," "Kuwarta o Kahon," "Public Forum/Lives," "Student Canteen," "Eat Bulaga." In the age of inane variety shows, they have redeemed Philippine television.
Quirks of language that can drive crazy any tourist listening in: "Bababa ba?" "Bababa!"
"Sayang!" "Naman!" "Kadiri!" "Ano ba!?" "pala." Expressions that defy translation but wring out feelings genuinely Pinoy.
Cockfighting. Filipino men love it more than their wives (sometimes).
Dr. Jose Rizal. A category in himself. Hero, medicine man, genius, athlete, sculptor, fictionist, poet, essayist, husband, lover, samaritan, martyr. Truly someone to emulate and be proud of, anytime, anywhere.
Nora Aunor. Short, dark and homely-looking, she redefined our rigid concept of how leading ladies should look.
Noranian or Vilmanian. Defines the friendly rivalry between Ate Guy Aunor and Ate Vi Santos and for many years, the only way to be for many Filipino fans.
Filipino Christmas. The world's longest holiday season. A perfect excuse to mix our love for feasting, gift-giving and music and wrap it up with a touch of religion.
Relatives and kababayan abroad. The best refuge against loneliness, discrimination and confusion in a foreign place. Distant relatives and fellow Pinoys readily roll out the welcome mat even on the basis of a phone introduction or referral.
Festivals: Sinulog, Ati-atihan, Moriones. Sounds, colors, pagan frenzy and Christian overtones.
Folk dances. Tinikling, pandanggo sa ilaw, kari?sa, kuratsa, itik-itik, alitaptap, rigodon. All the right moves and a distinct rhythm.
Native wear and costumes. Baro't saya, tapis, terno, saya, salakot, bakya. Lovely form and ingenious function in the way we dress.
Sunday family gatherings. Or, close family ties that never get severed. You don't have to win the lotto or be a president to have 10,000 relatives. Everyone's family tree extends all over the archipelago, and it's at its best in times of crisis; notice how food, hostesses, money, and moral support materialize during a wake?
Calesa and karitela. The colorful and leisurely way to negotiate narrow streets when loaded down with a year's provisions.
Quality of life. Where else can an ordinary employee afford a stay-in helper, a yaya, unlimited movies, eat-all-you-can buffets, the latest fashion (Baclaran nga lang), even Viagra in the black market?
All Saints' Day. In honoring our dead, we also prove that we know how to live.
Handicrafts. Shellcraft, rattancraft, abaca novelties, woodcarvings, banig placemats and bags, bamboo windchimes, etc. Portable memories of home. Hindi lang pang-turista, pang-balikbayan pa!
Pinoy greens. Sitaw. Okra. Ampalaya. Gabi. Munggo. Dahon ng Sili. Kangkong. Luya. Talong. Sigarillas. Bataw. Patani. Lutong bahay will never be the same without them.
OCWs. The lengths (and miles) we'd go for a better life for our family, as proven by these modern-day heroes of the economy.
The Filipino artist. From Luna's magnificent "Spoliarium" and Amorsolo's sun-kissed ricefields, to Ang Kiukok's jarring abstractions and Borlongan's haunting ghosts, and everybody else in between. Hang a Filipino painting on your wall, and you're hanging one of Asia's best.
Tagalog soap operas. From "Gulong ng Palad" and "Flor de Luna" to today's incarnations like "Mula sa Puso"--they're the story of our lives, and we feel strongly for them, MariMar notwithstanding.
Midnight madness, weekends sales, bangketas and baratillos. It's retail therapy at its best, with Filipinos braving traffic, crowds, and human deluge to find a bargain.

batang 90s

2008-05-10T16:24:00.000+08:00

i admit. inggitera rin ako! pakopya gurl! :)

67 signs you're a kid of the 90s in the Philippines.

1. Masaya ka kapag naglalaro ka ng Tex at Pog. Kadalasan ang design dito ay yung mga palabas sa TV, mga drama o kaya anime, may dialogue pa. (meron lang ako ng mga 'to, pero di ako naglalaro. malungkot ang childhood ko. hehe.)

2. May comics pa ang bazooka. Kahit di mo maintindihan yung Fortune Cookie sa huli ay collection mo pa rin yun.

3. Uso pa yung tirador, yung gawa talaga sa sanga ng puno. (sumpit ang akin dati, gawa sa matigas na red na straw ng seven eleven. munggo yung bala.)

4. Ang mga babae naglalaro ng paper dolls na tigpipiso bawat isang set sa sari-sari store. (na sabi ng pinsan ko, nabubuhay daw yung mga yun pag gabi. usual names ng paper dolls: melody, mystica, cindy)

5. Kung lalake ka, siguradong may pellet gun ka. (ako babae pero may pellet gun. tas nambabato din ng isang dakot ng pellets pag habulan)

6. Humihingi ka ng dalawang piso sa magulang mo para maglaro ng video arcade sa sari-sari store. Favorite mo yung Sonic, Mario at Street Fighter at Tetris.

7. Nagwa-watusi ka kapag New Year kahit pinapagalitan ka ng nanay mo.

8. Meron kang sapatos na umiilaw yung swelas kapag iniaapak mo. Mas sikat kung iba-iba yung kulay. (lola ko pinadalhan ako ng ganito. pati yung bag na de-pindot tapos may tatahol/grown/meow.. ayos!)

9. Merong at least isang Chicago Bulls na shirt sa bahay nyo. Madalas number 23 pa yung nakalagay. (pati cap meron. adik sila dati.)

10. Pinapatulog ka ng yaya/nanay mo tuwing tanghali o hapon para raw lumaki. Hindi na kasi pinapatulog ang mga bata ngayon tuwing tanghali di tulad nung panahon natin. (oo! 'pag valiente at aguila na. kasi panakot nila sa'kin yun ng theme song nun)

11. Sinasabihan ka ng matatanda na may lalabas na pari o bigas sa sugat mo kapag hindi nilagyan ng alcohol pero in the end, betadine lang ang magpapatahimik sa inyo.

12. Kung babae ka, nagkaroon ka ng butterfly hairclips/rings. (si Jolina ang nagpauso nito)

13. Kung medyo may pera ang pamilya nyo, nagpabili ka ng Polly Pocket. (ayoko ng polly pocket. barbie na lang.)

14. Naglalagay ka ng Kisses (yung mabango) sa pencil case mo, o kaya sa isang lalagyan na may bulak, alcohol at tinutusok ng karayom para mabilis manganak.

15. May free stickers ng Disney movies sa loob ng Maggi noodles.

16. Pinapatunog mo yung takip ng Gatorade.

17. Ang mga stationeries na uso: Papemelroti, Tsukuba, Sashikibuta. Pwedeng ibenta, pwedeng trade lang.

18. Pampalipas oras mo dati ang paglalaro ng Brick Game, at swerte yung mga may advanced version na may tumatagos na blocks para mapuno na yung gap sa loob. Mas advanced ka kung Tamagotchi ang nilalaro mo. Pinapakain mo, pinapatulog mo, at inililibing mo kung namatay na. At kung talagang kaya nyong bumili, Game Boy ang sayo. Pero kung wala ka talaga, yung laruan na lang na may tubig sa loob tapos dapat ma-shoot mo yung mga bilog sa stick na maliit. (classic! hanggang ngayon uso pa sa'kin yung 'shoot that hoop!' yes, may decent title ang game..)

19. Bago magsimula ang klase, nakikilaro ka muna sa 10-20, jackstone, langit lupa, ice water, taguan, dr. quack quack, tumbang preso, pepsi seven up at agawan base. Di bale nang madumi na ang uniform mo pagpasok ng classroom. (10-20 lang at at chinese garter)

20. Sinasabi mo sa kaklase mo na "Liars go to hell" kapag tingin mo nagsisinungaling sya. "Cross my heart, hope to die" kapag nangangako ka. "Period no erase" kapag gusto mo walang kumontra sayo. Kaya lang wala kang lusot kapag sinabi ng kaklase mo na "Akin yung factory ng pambura". (hindi ko know ang factory thingy)

21. Sikat ka pag ang pencil case mo nabubuksan sa dalawang side tapos maraming attachments like magnifying lens, book stand, compartments na maliliit tapos push button pa. Minsan sa ibabaw ng pencil case meron pang maze, may maliit na silver na bola tapos itatagilid mo yung pencil case para gumulong yun, hanggang sa matapos yung maze.

22. Di ka baduy kung ang notebook mo nung elementary ay may mukha ng artista. (titanic dati cover nung akin. syet. baduuuuy!)

23. Sa coolman (sic) mo inilalagay ang tubig na baon mo sa school. (at may mga kaklaseng madalas nakikiinom)

24. Nagpabili ka ng Baby-G sa magulang mo.

25. Elementary ka nung nauso ang pager. Yun pa ang pinapangarap ng mga bata, hindi pa cell phone.

26. Meron ka pa rin ng pinakamalaking cell phone na nakatago na ngayon sa mga kahon.

27. Wala pang PS/PS2, XBox, Wii, atbp. noon. Family Computer pa lang, yung cartridge yung bala. Usong laro ang Mario Bros., Battle City at Rambo. (kami dati adik sa kay yoshi, yung dino sa mario brothers)

28. Meron ka ng isa sa mga ito: Family Computer, Nintendo, Sega, roller blades, brick game, Tamagochi, Swatch Watch w/ matching guard, Troll collection.

29. Alam mo ang mga linyang ito sa mga kanta: "Natatawa ako, hi hi hi hi", "Anong paki mo sa long hair ko", "Dahil sa bawal na gamot", "Mga kababayan ko, bilib ako sa kulay ko".

30. Isa dito ay theme song mo: "I Swear" by All 4 One, "What's Up" by 4 Non Blondes (And I say, Hey ey ey ey ey ey. I said hey, What's goin on!), "Zombie" by Cranberries.

31. Sumasayaw ka ng Macarena. (way back, ito ang version ng today's papaya song, di ba?- korak, jaycee!)

32. Alam mo ang kanta ng Spice Girls at may favorite ka sa kanila. Kung fan ka talaga, may poster ka pa at casette tape ka pa nila.

33. Malamang ay naging fanatic ka ng isa sa mga sumikat na boy bands. (nsync!)

34. Ang tinutugtog lagi sa radyo ay mga kanta ng mga banda gaya ng Eraserheads, Parokya ni Edgar nung nagpapalda pa lang sila, Alamid, Rivermaya, True Faith, The Youth, Afterimage at kung anu-ano pang pinoy bands.

35. Tape pa ang uso, di CD or MP3 players. Pag gusto mo yung kanta kailangan tantyahin mo kung ilang seconds i-rewind yun para mabilis paulit-ulitin. (tapos walkman pa then discman, wala pang ipod! haha!)

36. Kinakanta nyo dati sa school yung "Heal the World", "Tell the World of His Love", "Jubilee Song", etc. (every after flag ceremony sa sanfe. utang na loob! haha!)

37. Nanonood ka dati ng Power Rangers, Captain Planet o Ninja Turtles. Nagkukunyari pa kayo ng mga kaibigan mo na kayo yun at nagkakasipaan kayo.

38. Di ka papagalitan ng magulang kahit magbabad ka sa TV, basta ang pinapanood mo ay Hiraya Manawari, Bayani at Sine Skwela, kung saan nakilala mo sila Teacher Waki, Ugat Puno, Palikpik, at ang buong barkada nila lalo na kapag nakasakay sila sa space ship o sa jeep na lumilipad.

39. Sinubaybayan mo ang Ghost Fighter at ang Dragon Ball. Naging favorite mo si Eugene at si Goku.

40. Niloloko mo yung theme song ng Voltes V kasi di mo maintindihan yung theme song: "Tato ni Ara Mina malaking cobra...", "Boltes Payb lima sila, pumunta sa kubeta...", "...Kontra Bulate!"

41. Napanood mo din yung ibang anime tulad ng Shaider, Sailormoon, Daimos at Maskman. Saulo mo pa nga yung kanta dun: "Oh maskuman kayo ang pag-asa.. Iligtas kami sa marahas na kadiliman... Kami inyong ipaglaban! Sugod, sugod laban maskuman, ipaglaban nyo ang katarungan.. Sige, sige laban maskuman.." (ako si pink mask! teka, wag kalimutan ang masked rider black)

42. Sinubaybayan mo ang Sarah ang Munting Prinsesa, Julio at Julia, at Cedi. Pinanood mo pa nga yung movie version ng Sarah ang Munting Prinsesa with Camille Prats.

43. Alam mo din yung "Ang Pulubi at ang Prinsesa" with Camille Prats and Angelica Panganiban. (pinoy version ng princess and the pauper)

44. Gusto mong sumali sa ANG TV. Pero alam mong hindi na pwede. kaya kuntento ka na lang sa panonood nito tuwing 4:30 ng hapon. (wala akong balak. pinanonood ko lang sila)

45. Batibot ang usong palabas. Akala mo nga mag-dyowa o mag-asawa sina Kuya Bodjie at Ate Sheena.

46. Alam mo yung tono ng pinausong kanta ng show na "ATBP.": Isa.. dalawa-tatlo.. apat-lima.. anim-pito-walo.. syam-sampu... labingisa-labingdalawa... labingtatlo... labingapat-labinglima...

47. Napanood mo ang Batang X.

48. Sabay kayo nanonood ng yaya mo ng Marimar.

49. Nanonood ka ng kahit alin dito: "Okay Ka Fairy Ko", "Oki Doki Doc", "Abangan ang Susunod na Kabanata", "Palibhasa Lalake", "Ober da Bakod", at "Home Along Da Riles". (takte napanood ko ata lahat 'to! haha!)

50. Galit ka kay Clara kasi sobra naman talaga sya mang-api kay Mara.

51. Pinanood mo din yung "Villa Quintana", "Esperanza", "Anakarenina" atbp.

52. Mga love teams na nagpakilig sayo: Juday and Wowie. Jolina and Marvin.

53. Alam mo yung commercial ng Tender Juicy hotdog na ganito: "Dear diary, Carlo sat beside me today. He's so cute! Sabi niya I'm pretty kaya lang I'm fat."

54. Kinakanta mo yung "Thank God it's Sabado, pati na rin Linggo..." at "Isa pa, isa pa, isa pang Chicken Joy". (diba anu yun: "i love you sabado, pati na buong linggo." wahaha!)

55. Nasa channel 2 pa ang Eat Bulaga at ang Mel and Jay. (korak!)

56. Nakikita mo sa balita na may mga kultong nagtatago na sa kweba, kasi magugunaw na ang mundo sa year 2000, at yung mga computer daw bigla na lang mag-shu-shut down at mawawala na daw ang technology.

57. Chinese variety shows ang palabas tuwing umaga ng linggo. (after ng televised mass)

58. Matapang ka kung napanood mo lahat ng Shake, Rattle and Roll movies.

59. Narinig mong i-announce sa radyo yung death ni Princess Diana. Biglang nauso yung kanta ni Elton John na "Goodbye, England's Rose." (kuya, candle in the wind po ang title nito. originally for norma jeane a.k.a. marilyn monroe)

60. Nasa VHS yung mga movies na pinapanood ninyo sa bahay.

61. Kung babae ka, naging crush mo si Leonardo di Caprio dahil sa Titanic. Kaya nga lang, bawal ka pa tumingin sa kissing scenes nina Jack at Rose.

62 Nagsuot ka ng jologs na boots nung elem.

63 Nagkaron ka ng stickers collection ng spice girls na libre sa chupa-chups.

64 Lagi mong banat panukso ang, "the more you hate, the more you love."

65 Naglaro ka ng P.S. I Love You, Langit Lupa, Sili-Silihan, Shake Shake Shampoo at iba pa. At bibong bibo kang sumigaw ng "Viva!" (may ilang beses lang ako nakapaglaro nitong mga 'to. sabi nga eh. boring childhood ko. ni hindi nga ako marunong magpatintero eh, haha!)

66 May bag ka na de-stroller. yung bakal na stroller na nakahiwalay sa bag at may garter straps. (oo. at dati hilig kong makasagasa ng paa ng mga kaklase ko, yung mga nakapila pag uwian na. kasi classic yung akin dati. panlalaki. pasa galing sa pinsan ko from don bo. hehe.)

67 Nagbasa ka ng sweet valley. (mejo. pero mas gusto ko yung baby sitters' club at yung little sister's series nila... ahaha!)

---

at dahil batang 90s ka, inggitera ka. magcocomment ka ng: oo, naalala ko 'to! pero deep inside your heart and your soul, kokopyahin mo 'to! aminin mo, diba! :) haha! :)

because of piracy

2008-05-08T21:02:00.004+08:00

Pushing daisies. i'm loving it. i was able to watch its pilot episode on 2nd avenue last tuesday. i love the plot, its vivid, psychedelic colors, and the way the story is presented-- just like the narration on will ferrell's 'stranger than fiction'! the sizzling-hot actor, lee pace, plays the role of ned, a pie maker, gifted with a marvelous and equally devastating gift of being able to "bring dead things back to life by touching them."

our bestfriend wiki says this unwanted talent goes like, "if something is revived for more than exactly one minute, something of similar "life value" in the vicinity drops dead, in a form of balance. Additionally, if he touches the revived thing a second time, it falls dead again - permanently. No amount of his prodding will ever bring it back again."

as expected, i got outrageously excited for the next episode, that i stayed awake the next night (despite my need to recharge for another night's work), waiting for the "it's gonna be a brighter day" tune to tickle my ears, only to find out that the station only runs it every tuesday (8-8:30 p.m.) and sunday (9-9:30 p.m.).

i was not over it, so i checked the website, got extra-excited for its online-viewing feature, and... hey, look at what i have found!

only viewers within the united states
can watch these full-length episodes

i just had the urge to edit my print-screen shot, to give emphasis, and to express alarm over the growing trend of piracy in the Philippines. it's really out of my business and my usual line of criticism, but see? i'm cursing the pirates now because i will not be able to watch pushing daisies over the net! sounds so stubborn, but i'm sure to hit a line of birds in one shot.

2 messages received

2008-05-08T19:42:00.000+08:00

i appreciate having my former cadets as textmates and friends. i had a great time with them, despite the battle against the draining sum beam and bone-breaking exercises. here's a message i got from one of my company elements, who was also one of my closest friends during the ROTC days. i know it's just forwarded, but i loved the thought:

a philo prof. gave one question for the final exam.

the class was seated when the prof. touched his chair and asked, "use everything we've learned this sem. prove that this chair does NOT EXIST."

the whole class answered for an hour, but the laziest student finished the test in less than a minute.

one week later, the grades were posted in the class, and the lazy student got the highest score.

his answer consisted of just two words:

"what chair?"

i opt not to include the concluding sentence, for it will extinguish the beauty of the message.
and here's another one from another one. (got it? well, get it!)

if wealth is the secret to happiness, then the rich should be dancing on the street;
but only poor kids do that...

if power ensures peace of mind, then officials should walk unguarded;
but those who live simply, sleep soundly...

if beauty and fame bring ideal relationships, then celebrities should have the best marriages;
but those who trust God completely have the most fulfilling relationships...

i'm really not into religious quotes, but then again, i love the thought, and the irony of life.
so there!

clumsy

2008-05-05T18:32:00.001+08:00

it seems that when you get excited for a certain thing, heavens fall apart to give you that hard blow.

i woke up early this morning, with eagerness in my heart, to pick up my I.D. from the office of the daily broadsheet where i am spending my 200-hour OJT. i am not into flaunting my press I.D. in congress or anywhere else, say, when walking along the streets of batasan or outside the area. my intention is clear: i want to avoid obstructions. why? it is of popular knowledge that the house of representatives is an ultimately-secured institution (i just wonder how the security team overlooked the tricksters, who were responsible for the death of Basilan Rep. Wahab Akbar in the batasan bombing just last year) that's why visitors have to log-in and out. without an I.D., i am still a visitor. for two weeks since i started reporting, i languished under the sun in a long line with our folks, who were asking for assistance from the congressmen, for whatever purpose they desired, until i was given a media pass for the month of april. i know everything else after the issued date falls into my responsibility of getting my press I.D.

...and so i got it. i also asked for jaycee's, since he was tasked to cover something in U.P., at 10 a.m.

i had a wondeful day in the press office, that i thought everything would turn out fine. jaycee and i met at mcdo q.av at around 5:30 p.m. we stayed for about an hour, taking about our OJT experiences, and spying at the cake-boy from McCafé.

true. everything's fine today, but.... no. i JUST THOUGHT everything's fine today.

i got my I.D. laminated before i went home. i was in high spirits! my day was wonderful... WAS WONDERFUL.

i forgot to put my signature and the "in-case-of-emergency" contact number in it. chickenfeed! i knew i could do something about it. so i started to peel off the edges with a cutter... slowly... carefully, until i had half of the I.D. rewritable, then scribbled my signature. i didn't care about the "in-case-of-emergency" thing. i could just stick on a piece of paper in it. then there came the ever almighty heated iron, steered by my very own hands on top of a paper, as i pressed the plastic smooth. presto! i had my I.D. back in its decent impression. but i grew mad and kept on rubbing the iron against the paper, with the hope of making it harder than it was, until small bubbles appeared on the surface of my photo, and what the heck was i doing?! my picture looked like i was a hard-scaled reptile or a cast of zuma and galema! hell! i even had blisters on my fingers!

now there's no escape from the batasan security team. i still have to play patintero with the soldiers to get inside the north wing! i'm so clumsy! i'm so clumsy (but not in love)! haha!

para sa malusong na pilipino

2008-04-26T04:09:00.007+08:00

nakakatuwa naman talaga sa pilipinas. tama ba namang mutaktakin ni gloria ang mrt stations ng posters about health na may malaking mukha niya sa tagiliran? at ang pinaka-malupit pa ay, "kumain araw-araw ng mga pagkaing niluto sa mantika o edible oil"

ate, salamat sa cholesterol!

well, ito talaga yung Sampung panuntunan sa wastong nutrisyon, proposed by the Department of Science and Technology (DOST) last july:

Upang matugunan ang malaking kakulangan sa enerhiya ng dyetang Pilipino, bumuo ang National Nutrition Council, sa pakikipagtulungan sa 10 pampublikong opisina at tatlong mula sa pribadong sektor, ng panuntunan sa wastong nutrisyon. Kailangan lang na ating “… Alamin, Gawin at Palaganapin.” Eto ay ang mga sumusunod:

1. Kumain ng iba’t-ibang pagkain araw-araw. (kahit ano, basta pagkain. kahit nasa basurahan na, pagkain pa rin 'yon. basta iba-iba. 'pag hindi iba, wag na lang kumain.)

2. Pasusuhin ang mga sanggol mula pagkapanganak hanggang anim na buwan at saka pakainin ng naaayon habang pinasususo. (huwag tatanggalin sa suso ng ina ang nguso ng bata, baka ikamatay niya iyon. mula pagkapanganak daw eh. kung kaya na niyang ngumuya ng kanin, isabay pa rin sa pagsuso. wag makulit. sabi "habang pinapasuso" daw.)

3. Panatiliin ang normal na paglaki ng bata sa pamamamagitan ng tamang pagkain at pagtatala ng kanilang paglaki. (kung hindi lumalaki ang bata, wag nang itala.)

4. Kumain ng isda, karne, manok o butong gulay. (huwag pakakainin ng iba)

5. Kumain ng maraming gulay, prutas at halamang ugat. (marami, hanggang lumobo ang tiyan.)

6. Kumain ng pagkaing niluto sa langis. (kahit langis sa sasakyan, ok lang, basta langis.)

7. Uminom ng gatas at kumain ng tulad na produkto, at mga pagkaing mayaman sa kalsyum. (sori na lang sa mga lactose-intolerant)

8. Gumamit ng asing sinangkapan ng iodine subali’t iwasan ang sobrang maaalat na pagkain. (ano ba talaga?!)

9. Kumain ng malinis at ligtas na pagkain. (may pagkaing hindi ligtas. ingat ka, baka madisgrasya ka.)

10. Para sa isang malusog na pangangatawan at wastong nutrisyon, mag-ehersisyo, huwag manigarilyo, at uminom ng alak. (kuya, mali ang placement ng comma. o sige, inuman na lang!)

source: DOST

bali-balita

2008-04-24T14:25:00.005+08:00

i'm definitely not for straight, verrry verrry hard news, and it's not for me either, but as of the moment, i have to live with it and work my ass off.

i just think heaven and hell conspired in throwing me into a beat which is really far from my inclination. mind you, i am assigned in the congress, the very politically-charged congress, which i thought would spell early suicide. in our first meeting, i told my trainer, mr. delon porcalla, that i have to run a long mile in order for me to get used with writing hard news, but now i think i'm getting the hang of it, even if it takes me eons to finish my articles everyday.

the congress finally resumed last monday, so there are no more dead minutes of waiting for press releases inside the halls of the media center. i was able to attend two press conferences that afternoon - things that are very new to me because that was my first time i mingled with other journalists from different media companies- print, radio, and television alike.

i was a bit nervous the moment i set foot at the conference hall because of politicians who looked like steroid-addicts with their faces all blown-up, they should have hired a good make-up artist to fix the problems with their faces! well, i didn't know why i felt so intimidated. most of them are leftists, so there should be no awkward feeling.

again, i saw anthony taverna, who's making his usual live over-the-phone radio announcement inside the press office. it was a bit funny. his accent and the way he speaks really fit radio broadcasts. well, i see him everyday, therefore we have the same beat. the very pretty pia arcangel was also there and just yesterday was niko baua.

the first press con i attended was that of reps. liza maza, satur ocampo, teddy casino, and rafael mariano, on the arroyo administration's desperate attempt to file trumped-up murder charges against them. the speakers went straight to the point. they said it was very timely, since they were pushing for important house bills, which would give no good for the fake president. arroyo was obviously trying to silence her critics.

the second was with house speaker nograles, abraham mitra, and the chairman of agriculture committee. yey! i met noggie! last sem i was just writing an article about his drama of conflicts with duterte, and now i was able to see him face-to-face! although i'm not so into political issues, i enjoyed it a lot.

i was very happy and excited at the same time that i managed to finish my articles quickly. now i can find reasons to stay in my assigned beat because just last week, i was planning to request for transfer, since Batasan is really far and i'm having a hard time traveling from home-OJT-and work. i just realized that being in this beat is also a blessing-in-disguise because so many things dramatically slash philippine history right inside the halls of congress-- busy beat. i couldn't ask for more!

tula-la

2008-04-19T07:50:00.000+08:00

sana ay may maisulat akong tula
nang sa pagtitig ko nang buong araw
at paglagutok sa tiklada, masabi man lamang
na may mabuti akong matatanaw

ni hindi ko inaasahang maging kasing ganda
ng mga nababasang anak ng palad
ng mga mahuhusay na makata
at panulat ng manunulang huwad

tatlong lipon ng mapagpalayang wika
sapat na upang makadama ng ligaya;
dalawang minutong pagkindat
mula sa isang masugid na mambabasa

Consecration/Purification in Spells

2008-04-05T12:46:00.002+08:00

Consecration is defined by the dictionary as to “dedicate formally to a religious or divine purpose.” Consecration must be practiced before any tool can be used in the practice of witchcraft. Consecration is a form of purification, and is done with salt, water and incense, which all stand for the five elements of nature – water, earth, fire, air and spirit. It is important that consecration to be used for witchcraft be done in a positive state of mind, as this incorporates the “spirit” part of the elements. Consecration is used in witchcraft to gain the approval of the God and Goddess for what they are about to practice.

Spell for Cleansing the body of Negative Energy
The following tools will be needed:
1 White Candle – this is representative of positive energy
1 Black Candle – this is representative of negative energy
1 Green Candle – this is representative of healing

Clear your mind and light the white candle. Say the following incantation:
“Mother Earth, Fire, Wind, Water and Spirit,
I ask thee to cleanse my body of all negative energies”

Light the black candle and say the same thing. After this light the green candle and say the following incantation:
“Mother Earth, Fire, Wind, Water and Spirit,
I ask thee to free and heal my body from all negative forces.
Blessed be!”
Sit back, and keep your mind clear for fifteen minutes. After this you should feel renewed and fresh.

source: Witchcraft - World of Wicca

Man of the Year

2008-04-05T10:33:00.003+08:00

Tom Dobbs: [quoting Benjamin Franklin] "Politicians are a lot like diapers. They should be changed frequently, and for the same reason."

(Watch "Man of the Year" Movie)

**********
Tom Dobbs: People say Intelligent Design, we must teach Intelligent Design. Look at the human body, is that intelligent? You have a waste processing plant next to a recreation area.

**********

Hemmings: Will you be disappointed to be going back to television after this ride? Eddie Langston: Oh, no. I have a glorious love-hate relationship with TV.
Hemmings: How so?
Eddie Langston:TV scares me. It makes everything seem credible.
Hemmings: Why is that so bad?
Eddie Langston: If everything seems credible then nothing seems credible. You know, TV puts everybody in those boxes, side-by-side. On one side, there's this certifiable lunatic who says the Holocaust never happened. And next to him is this noted, honored historian who knows all about the Holocaust. And now, there they sit, side-by-side, they look like equals! Everything they say seems to be credible. And so, as it goes on, nothing seems credible anymore! We just stopped listening!

lugaw shortage

2008-04-03T06:52:00.000+08:00

however Gloria Arroyo says that the country would not suffer rice shortage, still, the expected increase in its prices is enough for us to feel the crisis.

i woke up early this morning and found myself in dire need of congee (lugaw), an addiction i rediscovered these past few days. to alleviate my stomach's pain, i reeled off to the nearest Chowking food chain. it has been my habit to walk briskly to the market, especially when i need to cash-out on ATMs. i'd rather spend my precious coins for three sticks of... you know... than ride a jeepney. it's a good exercise, too. (yes, life works in irony. :p) so i did the same thing this time and it was after a 30-minute walk that, with my legs trembling, i finally reached the counter, waited for the person who came before me to finish, and gave nothing but a bitter nod when the lady told me, "Sorry, ma'am. Hindi po available ang congee ngayon." wow! what a grace!

it isn't even the 28th of the month. why am i in disgrace?! (for those who do not know, 28 is an unfortunate day for me)

i never stopped slipping through the holes of Kalentong market, asking if any eatery served a warm bowl of congee but as expected, NADA!

while walking back home, i was thinking of anything to ease my anger and to feel less unfortunate. why is there a shortage of "lugaw"? probabaly because the owners of Pinoy food corners, and also Chowking, would not gamble their capital for a casserole of this rice porridge when hot food are not in demand. remember, it's summer! they would rather have them for their tapsi and tocilog. again, how much does a kilo of rice cost?

anyway, i did not come home crying. the good heavens still has a room for my wishes. i found one... just a block away from us. ok, what a great walk!

tristan and isolde

2008-04-02T08:05:00.006+08:00

The Good-Morrow

John Donne (1572-1631)

I wonder by my troth, what thou and I
Did, till we lov'd? Were we not wean'd till then
But suck'd on country pleasures, childishly
Or snorted we in the seven sleeper's den
'Twas so; but this, all pleasures fancies be
If ever any beauty I did see
Which I desir'd, and got, 'twas but a dream of thee

And now good morrow to our waking souls,
Which watch not one another out of fear
For love, all love of other sights controls
And makes one little room, an everywhere
Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone
Let maps to other, worlds on worlds have shown
Let us possess one world, each hath one, and is one

My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears, And true plain hearts do in the faces rest; Where can we find two better hemispheres, Without sharp north, without declining west? Whatever dies, was not mix'd equally; If our two loves be one, or, thou and I Love so alike, that none do slacken, none can die.

************

Isolde: If things were different, if we lived in a place without duty, would you be with me?
Tristan: That place does not exist.
Isolde: [sobs] I'll pretend it's you.

************

Isolde: Why?
Tristan: There are other things to live for: duty, honor.
Isolde: But they are not life Tristan. They are the shells of life, and empty ones if in the end all they hold are days and days without love. Love is made by God. Ignore it and you suffer as you cannot imagine.
Tristan: Then I will no longer live without it.

************

Tristan: Isolde, we can't.
Isolde: It's like asking me to stop breathing.

************

Tristan: I don't know if life is greater than death, but love was greater than either.

Perth on Dead Poets Society

2008-03-27T15:49:00.007+08:00

found this on Dead Poets Society's page on watch-moves.net:

Perth: "Back when you are young, you never really stopped to think what in the world you were doing with your life. You simply lived for the day, hoped your grades would be enough to pass, and that's it. Long term thinking involved maybe flirting with someone you fancy, nothing more.

What this film showed me was that we have the responsibility and the joy of being alive in this planet. That we only have precious little time to make a difference. That we have a moral obligation to "seize the day, and make our lives extraordinary". That the world, basically is ours. That the only limitations are within ourselves, and that we owe it to us to fight, to rebel against conformity, to change what we hate and keep what we love. That living in this world is a beautiful responsibility, and that only cowards dare not to change it for the better."

when the call gets pranked

2008-03-25T09:00:00.001+08:00

after two long weeks of paid leave (woohoo, it's paid! - one of the major benefits of being a loyal employee), i finally went to work last night. i had this call with "mr.gatekeeper" which really turned me gaga, i almost tumbled down from my seat. hell, it was a hard "RFLMAO" (rolling on the floor, laughing my ass off) joyride!

mr.gatekeeper: ELO.

me: Yeah. Hi. I'm try'n'a reach "mr.label person"

mr.gatekeeper: SHE IN the RESTING room. YOU CALL later, ok?

yes, i know. holy guacamole! that's a lang bang! you know, language barrier: spanish no-pik-eeenglish peolple (most prominent) - they are the HINOJOSAs, the CECERESes, and the CABALLEROs; vietnamese: the NGUYENs - call them NGUYEN and they'll scold you like hell. guys, it's ngyen.; the TRANs, SINGHs, NGs, and PATELs.

most of them usually do not speak nor understand english. or if they do, then it's a "sorrri, pik-little eeenglish" case.

we call them lang bang. well, i do not have any personal grudge towards these people. it's just that in a call center, whenever you have mentioned the name of your company, client, or the product itself (or even your own name!) then you should end that freakin' call with a tiring TCPA (telephone consumer protection act) close, "thank you for your time. if you have any questions about this call, please dial 1-800-blah blah blah blah.... have a nice day!"

at the beginning of the call, these people would just say, "uhuh. me. me." so there's no reason for us to drop the call. we would get into the middle of the spiel until they give up, "ohh sorrri... no-pik-eeenglish." darn it!

ok, so what's with language?
1. we call restroom a restroom and not a resting room
2. neither can we call comfort room a comforting room
3. we call powder room a powder room and not a powdering room
4. why is no-smoking area not no-smoke area? can an area smoke?
5. why is sleeping quarters called as such? are there really sleeping quarters?
6. is there an english-speaking school?

well, the answers are falling flat on our faces. it's just than when you're into the call center industry, you'll get used to hearing hard-hitting errors. i swear! it's mortifyin'!

you'll get calls with label persons as mr.langis, mr.biological nutrition, mr.tule, mr.dude... now who would not laugh, especially when people around you are just as crazy as the label persons' names? it's a phone call away from that house in mandaluyong.

flash fiction: "balisong"

2008-03-22T04:27:00.001+08:00

Takot na takot siya sa balitang nasagap niya nung gabing iyon. Gusto na sana niyang maniwala na ang Pilipinas ay isang bansang isinumpa sa dami ng mga halang ang kaluluwang umaaligid-aligid at ang pinagtitripan ay ang mga kapwa nila mahihirap.

Ang sabi sa balita, may serial killer daw na gumagala malapit lang sa bahay nila at kinukuha ang laman loob ng mga kabataang napapatay nito. Pakana daw ito ng ilang mga mayayaman na walang mapagkunan ng organs para sa mga kapamilya nilang kailangang magpa-transplant. Marami rin namang nagsasabing gawa-gawa lang daw ang issue para sumunod ang mga tao sa curfew. Napakalawak ng deskripsyon sa killer. Basta ang palatandaan lang daw ay lagi itong naka-puruntong, may dalang camouflage na buddy bag, at nag-aabang-abang sa mga kanto kapag kaunti na lang ang mga tao sa gabi. Naku, hilig pa naman niyang umuwi ng madaling araw galing sa inuman. Napapadalas ito nang napapadalas simula nang matanggal siya sa trabaho. Hindi man sila umiinom, tumitira naman sila ng bato. Naisip niya, mas madali siyang mabibiktima ng serial killer dahil laging siyang lupaypay kapag umuuwi at siguradong walang laban.

Nasabi na lang niya sa sarili, “Ah, mabuti na lang at mayroon akong balisong dito. Kahit atakihin niya ako ngayong gabi, siguradong hindi ako mapupuruhan. Kahit papaano’y may panlaban ako.”

Alam niyang malakas siya kapag nakaka-tira ng bato, pero hindi rin siya sigurado dahil bago sila gumamit, nagpapakalango muna siya sa alak hanggang sa halos hindi na magising.

“Bahala na,” nasabi na lang niya sa sarili matapos maligo. Ayaw niyang maka-miss ng kahit isang session. Panlibang niya ito sa sarili at panlaban sa sunud-sunod na kamalasan sa buhay.

Dali-dali siyang nagbihis at kumuha ng tatlong alak sa aparador pang-ambag sa session nila. Ngayon lang siya makakapag-ambag dahil ngayon lang siya nagka-pera. Gin-bulag pare. Hassle bitbitin. Dali-dali niyang isinilid ang mga ito sa kung anong nadampot na bag at isinama na rin ang balisong na inaasahan niyang makakapagligtas ng buhay niya sakaling maispatan siya ng killer, sabay sibat.

Mabilis natapos ang session nila. Nakasulit siya ng alak at bato. Oras na para umiwi. Wala na siyang takot. Nilakad niya ang daan patungo sa madilim na kanto, malapit lang sa kanyang bahay at nakakita ng anino isang ng animo’y demonyo sa di kalayuan. Agad siyang naglabas ng balisong at...

“Huli ka!” sabay sunggab sa demonyo.

Pinagsasaksak niya ito at hiniwa ang tiyan, hinalukay ang buong kalamnan, ibinato sa kung saan. Kinuha niya ang atay nito, isinilid sa plastik at ipinasok sa camouflage na bag. Wasak na wasak ang pobreng estudyante at iniwang nakahandusay sa isang gilid, habang siya ay mabilis na tumatakbo papunta sa isang malaking bahay. May katagpo. May bibili.

reflections

2008-03-22T00:16:00.000+08:00

lethargy got the better of me. i'd rather post it this way. i don't think there would be a better way of expression than real conversations... (what an excuse! ) this one was with my cousin, tj-- one of the few people i'd spend my entire strength with talking about the greatness of life...

tina: we are left w/ no choice but join the cult of education and labor when in fact, the best things in life are for free

tj: yeah but lyk that they say, "u aim high, u pay high." "u want a gud job, gud life, beter hav a gud education."

tina: kaya i don't like math eh

tj: me 22222222222222

tina: it makes life complicated: math=technology

tj: i knoe

tina: pero san ba mas masaya ang tao? diba sa arts pa rin? ano yung nakakapag-nurture ng soul? don't tell me it's numbers! hindi naman sa against ako sa changes, pero kasi ngaun hindi na praktikal eh. sobra na yung innovation na sa sobrang bilis e ang daming naiiwan. the world becomes exclusive para sa mga may pera. so tau, nagiging followers na rin ni kuya "money"

tj: i'll give u a quote. one of my favorites. dont forget this

"We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, "O me! O life!... of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless... of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?" Answer. That you are here - that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play *goes on* and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be? "

tj: that's robin williams as john keating in the movie Dead Poets Society

tina: wow........ ganda!

tj: yup. one of d most beautiful quotes ive heard

ako: ganda... wat wil your verse be?- panalo

so there. life is a continuous statement. at the end of the day, how you spent your life within the entire day is what counts. it feels good to go on and tell the world what your own statement is. the world is ours. you are a part of it. make it a part of you... :)

Is it their search for truth or the other way around?

2008-03-14T14:55:00.007+08:00

Over the years, the government and media are slowly losing their reputation and credibility. The politics of survival has long been affecting the very nature of profession that interests were trimmed down to that of the personal and profitable; and now that the country is facing serious issues of corruption and left-and-right double deals, it is a bit ironic that the institutions known for candy-coating salient issues are now at the forefront of the country’s search for truth.

In Richard Linklater’s animated movie, Waking Life, offered was a keen observation on how powerful the media has become—that it has changed the way people looked at things: “Sure, the media tries to put a sad face on these things, painting them up as great human tragedies. But we all know the function of the media has never been to eliminate the evils of the world. No. Their job is to persuade us to accept those evils and get used to living with them.”

Who’s to blame? If media allowed their honest opinions to appear in the newspapers, before twenty-four hours, their occupation would be gone. The government, on the other side, is playing hero in the country’s search for elusive truth. But who really conceals it?

We are always in search of truth when the answers are already falling off our faces. The truth is in us. In fact, it was probably in search of us for God-knows-how-long. A Jun Lozada is not enough nor credible enough to claim it. Just look at the way he defends his sudden declaration of his “truth” and probably you’ll doubt. What does he want? He is now swimming in the pool of fame. I still could not believe the stardom he got from the Ateneo people when he visited there for his “in-search-of-truth campaign.”

People grew tired of believing. The quest for truth is always open-ended and most of the time left unanswered. The responsibility should not only be claimed by the government and the media. They alone are not enough to call for truth. They, too, have their own delineations. If at this time, people cannot absolutely entrust their affairs with the two powerful clusters, then the change must start within themselves. In either way, people just have to learn how to let the truth speak for itself.

rebound

2008-03-02T21:15:00.000+08:00

at ano naman ang akala nyo sa amin? hingahan ng sama ng loob? kwentuhan ng lablayp?

hindi kami diary na binibisita gabi-gabi para lang mag-digest ng kung anu-anong nangyari sa inyo sa araw-araw na lang na ginawa ng Diyos. napupuyat at nagsasawa rin kami sa mga kwento nyo! wala kaming balak gumawa ng thesis ng buhay nyo.

we're not always fond of your stories, your so-called philisophies, angst, dreams and whatever else you can think of. yes, we can be so tolerant to share the same laughter but it doesn't mean that we're so damn into your routines.

we also have our own nights. we have our own stories. if you could just try to listen, maybe our puzzles are much more difficult than yours. we are also capable of making silly stuffs, or just fool around to cut the cold moonless nights. we are women; we are human. we can feel... and probably it's deeper than you do...

so if you think you're earning another mean-time girl, better think again. we may lose ourselves to someone for some time, but a heart runs fast as a bullet. it kills, then it's emptied...

on my own

2008-02-06T23:44:00.000+08:00

And now Im all alone again
no where to turn no one to go to
Without a home without a friend without a face to say hello to
And now the night is near
now I can make believe hes here

Sometimes I walk alone at night when everybody
else is sleeping
I think of him and then I'm happy with
the company I'm keeping
The city goes to bed
And I can live inside my head

On my own,
Pretending he's beside me,
All alone, I walk with him till morning.
Without him, I feel his arms around me,
And when I lose my way, I close my eyes,
And he has found me...

In the rain,
The pavement shines like silver,
All the lights are misty in the river,
In the darkness the trees are full of starlight,
And all I see is him and me,
Forever and forever...

And I know it's only in my mind,
That I'm talking to myself and not to him,
And although I know that he is blind,
Still I say, there's a way for us...

I love him,
But when the night is over,
He is gone, the river's just a river
Without him the world around me changes,
The trees are bare and everywhere the streets are full of strangers.

I love him,
But everyday I'm learning,
All my life,
I've only been pretending,
Without me,
His world will go on turning,
A world that's full of happiness,
That I have never known...

I love him... I love him...
I love him... But only on my own...

just a thought

2008-01-10T08:51:00.000+08:00

"if horses could draw, they would draw their gods like horses." - xenophanes of colophon

CRUELtural differences

2008-01-09T14:58:00.000+08:00

- found this in my mail
- sent by my cousin, adey
- even pictures alone tell a story - something we don't see... or maybe something we just care not to see...
- try not to be too pious.

i need to repost this: type my mood in lowercase

2008-01-09T10:59:00.000+08:00

BUT I REALLY CAN'T!!! I'M NOT LIKING WHAT I'M FORCED TO DO! (IMAGINE ME DOING AN SMS - ALL CAPS FROM AN IRATE TEXTER!) EVERY NIGHT FEELS LIKE I'M BEING DRAGGED OUT OF BED, AND SHOWERS MAKE ME WONDER IF I'M REALLY SCRUBBING MY BODY WITH HARD,POINTED STONES THE EARTH COULD EVER IMAGINE BEARING! IF ONLY CAP ONE WERE NOT MOVED TO MARIKINA, AND NOW, HSBC'S TURN, THEN NO NEED FOR ME TO ASK FOR TRANSFER, EXCEPT FOR SOME UNEXPECTED SHIT OF COURSE, THE QA, TO NAME ONE...

lahat na yata ng santo natawag ko na. lahat na rin ata ng mura naisigaw ko na. kung may ilang beses na rin akong nagplanong magpasagasa sa loan mower, hindi ko na alam. nabibwisit ako! namumuhi ako sa ginagawa ko ngayon, pero hindi ko kayang talikuran. maraming bagay na tumutulak sa akin para umalis at siya ring humihila pabalik. tuwing papasok ako sa gabi, hindi ko mapigilang mag-senti mode dahil nakakaburyo talaga. hindi ko maialiwanag. para kong unti-unting nauupos. yung feeling na hopeless, yun yung kinaaasaran ko. wala akong magawa. wala akong magawa. pwde bang magmura dito? haaaaaaay! PI!

be infectious. smile. :)

2008-01-02T08:48:00.000+08:00

-i don't do new year's resolutions. they don't resolve anyway, but i'd go on trying to make something a habit from now on: SMILING.

-smile! happy new year everyone!

-this is one of my cousin's silly messages that really made me smile today:

WHY MEN WEAR CLOTHES

-i believe this is my first time to put tags. haha!

The Top Baby Names of 2007

2007-12-29T08:49:00.000+08:00

By the BabyCenter editorial staff

What happened in baby names in 2007? The results are in: Emma has finally been knocked off its number one perch for the first time since it landed there in 2004! Sophia has been making steady progress since 2002, cracked the top 10 in 2005, and jumped six slots to be the new number one baby name for 2007.

Addison jumped a whopping 20 spots this year to land in the top 10 — no doubt thanks to flame-haired actress Kate Walsh's portrayal of Dr. Addison Montgomery-Shepherd on the hot TV series "Grey's Anatomy" and its spin-off, "Private Practice."
In boys' baby names, Aiden still rules, as it has since 2005. But Jayden, Caden, and Jackson have jumped quickly into the top 10 this year and are the new rising stars.

And here they are, in order: The BabyCenter® Top Baby Names of 2007

Top 10 Girl Names:
Sophia
Isabella
Emma
Madison
Ava
Addison
Hailey
Emily
Kaitlyn
Olivia

Top 10 Boy Names:
Aiden
Ethan
Jacob
Jayden
Caleb
Noah
Jackson
Jack
Logan
Matthew

(Oh, i knew it!)

thanks to: MSN LIFESTYLE

on living and leaving (part2)

2007-12-27T08:58:00.000+08:00

kurt kobain. freddie mercury. marilyn monroe. princess diana. yes, they were all famous... and dead for years now. what ties them all is that they all died at the height of their careers, when they were the masters of the center stage, when they owned the lime light, when everybody loved them, and when they had all what it takes to feel human.

i want to die on a christmas season. i may sound too selfish and pathetic but i can not think of any other moment better that this. i know nature has taught man that one could not really choose his death day, unless he commits suicide, of course. so spare me from stones as i let myself state my own ideal dying season.

it is mostly during the cold december that people feel loved and special. gifts flushing into your house, greetings clogging in airwaves, and friends, those you've known ever since you said your first hello to the earth, coming into sight, and making you feel important, remembered, cherished - is there anything more you can ask for? you feel great, you feel loved, you feel more than what the great dead people felt. what happens after life, you know no more, but what matters is that you keep those memories with you and preserve them like a jar of fragrant kisses which, while the grownups fooled us, multiply into thousand sweet little memories.

i can't think of spending another year with those love messages diminishing like decaying trees and being thrown into a state where they were totally lost and out of my grasp. i love the philosophy of freud but i reserve my regards to jung as his philosophy conforms with my claim. the swiss psychologist once uttered, "ultimately, the self is fully realised in death..." and i can't help but agree.

death it is the last enemy i have to conquer, and a friend when it defeats me.

they died long before their names get dragged by nonsensical controversies and before they themselves ruin them with frantic acts. it took them years to build their reputation and death stopped the people from staining them. now who will say they ever died?

on living and leaving (part1)

2007-12-27T08:41:00.000+08:00

i saved this in my drafts folder sometime in november, but i don't know how to end it now. my drive has grown short for this one:

hot talks about life has been very stimulating on brains and spirits alike. lucky am i to be surrounded by extraordinary intellectuals whose brains give me more than my daily need for cerebral supplement. i'm not talking about persons alone. books are also geniuses - they are far more than what the mouth can speak.

what visits me often these days are my endless questions about life - how we live (and do we really live?) at the moment and why people are dying for the future. talking about things like this has been a trend when taking our meals after classes or even in drinking sessions... or even when doing the self-talk.

questions come as to why humans are so obsessed with planning carefully for the future that they almost forget how to live the "now". nobody wakes up one morning and tells that that day is the future of his yesterday. then why do we still bother? we never really get to hold our future. it is intangible. abstract. illusion.

everybody who has been to school could remember that some years ago, our teachers asked us how we would be ten years from that time. imagine that this is your tenth year after making that seatwork. what happened? you are still looking forward to another ten years. we can't help but think of tomorrow. we study to have a "bright future" (excuse to the BOOBtifuls), to have a good job; then we work, again, for the future. we are missing half of all the good things life offers. we forget to greet the beautiful sunhine as we hurry down the bathroom. we ignore the relaxing sound and smell of the morning because we are too vexed of the ticking clock as it whirls its way into our eardrums and bangs our brain. we prevent ourselves from getting those things we really want because we need to save for tomorrow; then we do resent when everything is gone.

there are some small things we care not to sumbit ourselves into - the passion of living for the "now".

style ni sir emer:
--------------------------nothing follows-------------------

(pagaya, sir...) akin:
-------------------------something will follow-------------------

for joseinne

2007-12-09T18:46:00.000+08:00

leaves fall like manna from heaven, but your silence slammed the tips of my nerves... the depth of your eyes told me your story... something you yourself cannot tell... the only thing you cannot write...

how when talks least essential
my mouth drieth of toil
when actions least intended
my limbs jerked in distress

ye who encompass the extremes of both worlds
too vague for them to understand;
who struggles with a naked arm,
how, then, can a breath weave ages?

for the fruits of earth all drieth for bliss
an unborn child cries over his first and last torment
for the world to hear the whispers of thy wind
silence is all i can give

on that lower "kingdom"

2007-12-04T19:29:00.000+08:00

thanks to joseinne. at least, now i have an idea where i'm heading to. haha!

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Seventh Level of Hell!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Very Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	Low
Level 2 (Lustful)	Moderate
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	High
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Moderate
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	High
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Low
Level 7 (Violent)	Very High
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	High
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	Moderate

Take the Dante's Inferno Test

anyway, think this isn't that accurate.

yes i personally don't believe/sumbit myself into confession. however our theology classes taught us its why's and how's, still it didn't work (don't throw stones at me please). ok, it said very low.

i can only think of one personal question about food. something like if i was eating at restaurants several times a week... well, no not at restaurants but fastfoods, yes. where else can we do when we're not at home? whatever kind and preparation of food, still we pay for them, even at canteens.

violent=very high?! ok, no comment. well, questions were about violence on one's self. don't think i'm harmful, for godsake...

fraudulent? yes i'm a good liar. but i don't forge documents. i'm not into selling social security numbers we get from credit card applicants. well, just think how rich i can be if i'm one.

treacherous? well, i've already said. i'm a good liar.

and everything else-- i think i must agree. :)

PANAWAGAN

2007-12-02T17:15:00.000+08:00

bagong libro ni eros atalia-- "PEKSMAN mamatay ka man, nagsisinungaling ako"

mga bagay-bagay na kapansin-pansin na hindi natin napapansin, o hindi lang talaga natin pinapansin.

before anything else, please give me back my Taguan Pung book...

the sons of war

2007-11-19T00:04:00.001+08:00

children walking barefoot
soles feasting on shrapnels and fragments

city painted with blood

a dirty race, all heading to
boundaries separating silence from war

hands reach out for a beloved
not strong enough even for one's self

everybody is running
tired of killing each other
on a murderous trip to the summit

a thin thread of hope
no room for a single soul

dreams crashing to the ground
as each falls lifeless

way too far from salvation
too distant from God's embrace

on(e) (h)our faith

2007-10-21T00:29:00.000+08:00

there was this exhibit in Thomas Aquinas Research Center (TARC) our professor in theology asked us to visit when we were in our second year. it was - if my memory serves me well - about Islamic soteriology and interreligious conferences, promoting unity among churches or religions.

i did not feel anything when i first set foot on the exhibit area, not until i saw pictures of children in different occasions professing faith. they stole my attention that i began studying their faces, expressions, poses, and details on how they appeared in the pictures. some were so attentive that one could really feel their devotion... and some were not. i started wondering if those little angels were completely aware of what they were doing or if they were just there for the sake of taking part in their rites.

religion is one issue i find complex and delicate when being discussed. much as it is perplexing, it is ultimately interesting and liberating at the same time.

but have we really asked ourselves if we fit right into that religion we belong to? in the first place, we did not choose it. rather, we wholeheartedly embraced what the grownups believed and followed what they did. they went to churches and we were with them, tugged tight, thinking we might get lost into what they introduced to us as our real home. they joined in prayer meetings and we were also there singing, waving our little hands in the air, clapping to death just like what everyone else did, regardless of whether or not we really knew what we were doing. we were taught how to pray and we took our daily dose of Biblical quotes and parables. we were dragged during sleepy saturday or sunday mornings or any day they deemed as worship day, then we slept and played inside the house of praise. punishments would follow right after we got back to our houses. those were the things we lived by; then we started calling ourselves religious.

but however we create the thought that religion is imposed, it is still dependent on one's orientation. freedom of religion was literally translated as that in which one has the right to practice one's religion within reasonable legal parameters. but if we look at it blunt and dry as a legal aspect, then we slowly move away from its sanctity. it is just as if we consider it as a plain constitutional right.

still, human knowledge knows no limit. the more we know, the more we ask, and the farther we get away from our faith. one word leads to another- off to a long and winding quest.

innocent as they were, those children in the pictures were a bold manifestation of authentic faith - that which did not ask but believed. there's no intention of saying that all we need to do is nod, accept and believe what we are being fed. i just had a different feeling when i saw those children whom i think had faith stronger than what we have, regardless of the what and the why... then i tried to remember if i did the same when i was a kid.

i also found it interesting when i saw a book about who Jesus and Mary were in the Koran, though i was not able to leaf through its pages. comments were suspended until i get the chance to read the book.

:::thanks to www.2muslims.com for the pic

el cielo

2007-10-18T18:29:00.000+08:00

clouds are there to remind us that there are still things unreachable my human alone...

superstar

2007-10-18T18:13:00.000+08:00

the last time i saw you shining
in the distance i know no more

your eyes, all the same
you still capture me with the slightest wink

that same smile you used to heed
stirs me up just like before... puzzled...

i admit nobody matches your shine
not even the moonlight is half as good...
you still have it with one glance,
and everything else shatters

just like the ocean as it tries to steal
the moon, a gap so impossible to bridge...
a silent prayer in the ear of a dying infant

you are an unreachable star
something not made for me... my limit... my own share of torment...

for months i tried to sing my last verses
tired. giving up. i almost lost my appetite for life

but time has brought me to my senses again
it mat be too late but i learned
nothing can be more impossible than make-believe

we all love music

2007-10-16T13:31:00.000+08:00

poetry goes hand-in-hand with music. we don't just love music because of its sound, but of meaning, memories, life... how it knocks your soul, how it enters your body and soothes you... simply irresistable...

Moscas en la Casa
Shakira

mis dias sin ti son tan oscuros
tan largos tan grises
mis dias sin ti
mis dias sin ti son tan absurdos
tan agrios tan duros
mis dias sin ti
mis dias sin ti no tienen noches
si alguna aparece
es inutil dormir
mis dias sin ti son un derroche
las horas no tienen principio, ni fin

Coro:

tan faltos de aire
tan llenos de nada
chatarra inservible
basura en el suelo
moscas en la casa

mis dias sin ti son como un cielo
sin lunas plateadas
ni rastros de sol
mis dias sin ti son solo un eco
que siempre repite
la misma cancion

Coro:

tan faltos de aire
tan llenos de nada
chatarra inservible
basura en el suelo
moscas en la casa

pateando las piedras
aun sigo esperando que vuelvas conmigo
aun sigo buscando en las caras de ancianos
pedazos de niño
cazando motivos que me hagan creer
que aun me encuentro con vida
mordiendo mis uñas
ahogandome en llanto
extrañandote tanto
mis dias sin ti
como duelen mis dias sin ti

Flies in the House

my days without you are so dark,
so long, so gray,
my days without you
my days without you are so absurd,
so bitter, so tough,
my days without you,
my days without you don't have nights,
if someone appears,
it's useless to sleep,
my days without you are an excess,
the hours don't have a beginning, or end

Chorus:

so short of air,
so filled with nothing,
useless junk,
trash on the floor,
flies in the house

my days without you are like a sky,
without silvery moons,
nor traces of the sun,
my days without you are only an echo,
that always repeats,
the same song

Chorus:

so short of air,
so filled with nothing,
useless junk,
trash on the floor,
flies in the house

stumble on the rocks,
still i keep waiting that you'll return to me,
still i keep looking in the faces of the old,
bits of a child,
hunting reasons that make me believe,
that still i meet with life,
biting my fingernails,
drowing in my tears,
missing you so much,
my days without,
oh how they hurt, my days without you

mock the stupid brit fan

2007-10-13T18:19:00.000+08:00

"Chris Crocker PARODY.Look at Chris Crocker's LEAVE BRITNEY ALONE VIDEO first or THIS VIDEO wont make sense. LEAVE BRITNEY ALONE!VIDEO

breathing, waiting, chasing: tabloidization of the classics

2007-09-25T01:39:00.000+08:00

takte. tama nga naman... kahit cheesy ang Spanish class kanina, in fairness sa mga nagsimula ng kakesohan, trulily din naman kayo dun.

all we do is breathe, wait, and chase. everyday we wait. di ba nakakasawa na ring maghintay? all we do is plan for tomorrow; not sure kung si tomorrow naman ay maamo sa'tin o paghihintayin pa rin tayo nang walang kamatayan.

sabihin mo mang, "I'm complete even before you came. i'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself and self-destruction as well" (mga bagay na natutunan sa lit about existentialism), di mo pa rin masisiguro kung kailan ka aandaran ng pagiging emo/cheesy/tweetums/korni/paksyet - call it whatever you want basta nakakaupos pa rin yung feeling. ni wala kang magawa. isinasabay mo na lang sa hangin ang bulong mo sa mga bagay na hindi mo kilala pero hinihintay mo pa rin, hinahabol; seamless faces of those whom we are trying to grasp...

basta maiisip mo na lang, minsan malungkot rin pala kapag mag-isa...

buhay manunulat, manunulot - pagsasamantala sa mga salitang balbal

2007-09-24T17:33:00.000+08:00

napakasarap nga namang magpakamatay gamit ang natatanging bagay na napakahalaga sa iyo. yung tipong dahan-dahang lumalagaslas sa katawan mo yung malakas na hataw ng nag-iisang bagay na pinaghihirapan mong maabot - dumudulas, nagpapakipot, sabay sasaksakin ka nang patalikod. hinele mo na nga buhat nang mahawakan mo nang pahapyaw, heto't kinakagat ka pa sa leeg na parang tiyanak.

sulat ka nang sulat; binubuntis mo ang sarili mo nang pilit; nanganganak ka nang nanganganak. buong katawan mo lupaypay. walang natira sa'yo kundi kaunting lakas para tumoma. inakma mo ang lahat ng pwersa para sa isang matinong obra, tapos hindi pa rin pala sapat; at dahil may ibang pumupuna ng mga gawa mo, wala ka nang ibang maibubulong sa sarili mo kundi, "ang pangit ng anak ko!"

minsan mo nang ipinaglaban sa lahat, ipinilit at hindi tinantanan... may lugar pa ba para sa pagsisisi?

kaya sa lahat ng mga nag-aakalang napakadaling maging manunulat at kailangan ay "street-smart" ka lang, well, subukan mong manganak sa pwet nang malaman mo kung gaano kahirap..

raino

2007-09-01T15:10:00.000+08:00

habang pauwi... tulala... walang ibang tinatanggap ang isip kundi- wala. ulan na lang ang tumawag ng pansin...

midnight blues

2007-08-30T22:20:00.000+08:00

no matter how you try to turn your back at the mellows,
lyrics will always find their way to penetrate you... deep...