Tuesday, July 29, 2008

what stupid thing i did today

so this morning i dragged myself off of bed and groggily went straight to the kitchen for some caffeine. i got the kettle off its rack all zombie-like, put some water, and set it on the electric stove.

i was suddenly jolted awake when something sort of exploded (you know, that sound you hear when something short-circuits).
jason mraz was singing 'i'm yours' on the radio and went "love, love, lo----uuuuhvvvv...". BANG.

turns out, the wire for the player was sizzling under the kettle because someone (that would
be me) didn't notice that the wire was coiled around the stove and didn't remove it before turning the stove on.

there's more. when the blasted thing short-circuited, it took out all the power in the compound because we have a common power source. that's four houses losing electricity because some genius wasn't awake enough to use her brain. and with the series of brownouts we've been having lately, people are a little touchy when it comes to losing power.

i guess it's never too early to start pissing people off. it's a curse, i tell you. my capacity for screwing up never ceases to amaze me.

seriously. i am in complete self-awe.

STAY TUNED FOR MORE OF MARA'S MORONIC MISADVENTURES.

hehehehe

Sunday, July 20, 2008

a repost for jello on his birthday (and angel. just because)

hmmmm... im missin these two to pieces (along with the rest of the brilliant bums). and well, my blog would be incomplete without a written shrine for these two, so there. someday, in a coffeeshop somewhere, we'll fill the air between us with malrboro exhaust, and life would once again make sense.

there was this greek legend that man and woman used to be attached and were perfect creatures. the jealous gods (their gods are weird like that) broke them apart because they were too perfect. from them on, man and woman spent their whole lives searching for their other halves to be complete.

the hopeless romantic in me loves that story, while the cynical little devil in my shoulder abhors the idea of my happiness depending on the idea of "the one". or maybe its
just the realist in me talking.

anyhow. this blog isn't about 'the one' (how very refreshing of me)
but about 'the two'. cheeeeeesy
. haha

maybe our story would be more compatible with the idea of past lives
and connections between people that endure through lives - past,
present and future. i read (don't ask where) that in your present life,
you tend to surrond yourself with people you love from
your past life. maybe that's the case with jello, angel and me.
i probably loved these two to pieces
(or maybe they were my favorite slaves when i was the queen of india-
im sure they had royalty at some point) because in this life, i do.
and when we met it did feel like finding missing pieces of me.

cheesier. haha.
it's funny because i hated angel when i first met her. maybe because
we were too much alike. (although waay different in some aspects).
anton (THE anton) once said that when we hate people, it's mostly
not because the person is bad or unlikeable but more often we see
something we hate in ourselves in them. well, i remember she was
running her mouth off when we met and was the perfect little premadonna.

figures.

anyway, when we found out we had a lot in common and so we decided
to be friends instead. (at some point, more than friends and it
was disgusting. haha.) besides when angel talks it's hard not to listen.
i swear, that girl can put up her life story in to be made to a
movie anytime for sheer shock value.

she's one of the people who's easy to stereotype cause of how she looks.
shallow, party-going, social butterfly. but as stereotypes go,
they're usually just misconceptions. which is true in
her case. (she is NOT an angel, i repeat,
she is NOT an angel! :P
) i'd like to believe that i DO NOT
make friends when shallow people, and if i happen to be found among
the company of some, than they are mere pseudo-friends.
anyway, angel is an intelligent, witty person (very much like myself)
and most of our converstions (which i love) are filled with insights
on life, love and whatnot. there is only one other person except jello)
with whom i can bare so much of myself to, strip myself naked
(so to speak) and not feel that maddening fear of being exposed.

and then there's jello... ahhh. had he been straight, angel
and i would not be friends cause wed be fighting over him.
(i can hear jello gagging). he's been my anchor through all the
crazy shit i thought to try in dumaguete, my moral compass even.
although, in the end, i guess i proved to be a stronger influence
cause now, he's not exactly vice-free. (but then again, what
would a non-smoker and a smoker have in common? haha.
that's how small my world is.) still, he kept me sane
and helped me face life with more
maturity than i am actually capable of...

Saturday, July 19, 2008

pinoy debate gods

gotta give it to them. they're not good. they're REALLY goood... hehehe.
one hell of morale boost for Pinoys too!
i mean TOP 8 in the world's, people! up there with oxford, cambridge, yale, and all those big-ass schools. damn.
i'd say to know some of these people is my claim to fame.
i know, make a friggin' shrine, why don't I, hehe.
(graph taken from this site)

Rank Team Country 2008 2007 2006 2005 2004 2003 Total All Time Points All Time Rank
1 Sydney Australia 101 150 111 106 109
577 1090 1
2 Oxford Union England 99 121 103 93 95
511 1012 2
3 Cambridge England 77 94 101 95 88
455 870 3
4 Monash Australia 87 59 50 103 90
389 836 4
5 UC Dublin Ireland 103 101 0 98 68 15 385 706 6
6 Yale US 91 100 109 37 32
369 679 7
7 UC Cork Ireland 64 64 99 59 60
346 669 8
8 Ateneo de Manila University Philippines 76 48 49 77 94
344 774 5
9 Queensland Australia 90 98 78 28 46
340 622 12
10 TC Dublin Ireland 68 65 133 33 35
334 656 10

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

okay. maybe i do have brain cells to spare...














damn. i miss high school.


seriously, i miss being naive enough to actually not care about being a freak. i miss literally laughing til it hurts with miray, kolitug, michelle and lapay. i miss stalking our crushes like the weirdos we were.

i miss having a crush as a reason for going to school. i miss raving over stupid nothings like him lending me a pen, or saying my name (for whatever reason), or for merely looking my way. (i guess i was a freak, big time. hehehe)

i miss ma'am tado (our version of all that represented evil then). i see fellow IDS people giving me funny looks over this. but deny it you want, you miss her too. we liked being given hell, and then rant about to hell and back while doing BCDs (her infamous Beautification and Cleanliness Drive wherein we 'bungkal' the living shit out of weeds) . we loved hating her then and her blasted vendetta against all things green and leafy, but we miss her now. it takes age to realize that she made us learn valuable lessons (albeit against our will).

just shut up and agree.

i miss doing BCDs. i'm not being weird on purpose. it really was fun, i swear. i've been interacting with IDS' weeds since sophomore year, that I have actually developed deep and lasting connections with so-called BCD mates, the IDS grounds, and the weeds, i guess.

i miss girl talks. i feel funny just saying that cause it makes me sound girly-girl when i never was, but i miss our convoluted conversations about boys, our lovelives (or the lack thereof), and our mild obsessions over whatever interaction any of us happen to have with our crushes (imagined or not).

i miss my bully, extremely annoying and weirdly endearing high school nemesis. he and i exchanged a few slaps and punches, got sent to the guidance office twice, almost got kicked out of CAT for manhandling and officer-assaulting and reaped enough crazy memories from these antics to last a lifetime.

i miss being in the last section! with our school's obsession for academic excellence, people in the last section were the only ones who were smart enough to realize all we needed were passing grades to graduate. so we majored on making every moment in high school memorable, and minored on academics while everyone else was too busy studying to enjoy high school. 'em nerds.

we were rowdy, crazy, careless, happy-go-lucky, and damn proud of it!

i miss the crazy things we called ourselves: s-club 7, rocktech boys, charlies' angels and their faithful sidekick... it gives me goosebumps just thinking about how jologs we were. in retrospect though, we didn't know better, and it was fun, so, whatever. hehe.

i miss the so-called group studies we had wherein we never did any studying. i remember going to rachel's place with the girls, coercing the boys to come, then leaving them in the sala, to hide our kilig in the bedroom over them being there. i mean, can you get more high school-y than that?!

but most of all, i miss that feeling of excitement over the promises of what lies beyond high school... the prophecies we made, the courses we were gonna take, the marks we were gonna make and the lives we were gonna change...

it's been six years now. i'm sure we never thought this is where we were gonna end up (speaking for myself, that would be limbo). i wonder how everyone else is?

how does everyone look now? what are they doing with their lives? are they still the same people i knew? are we still the same absurd bunch of crazy/fun omegans that we were then?

i wonder...

damn. i really miss high school :(

blog thingies

one of those ho-hum nights. nothing to do write about. too lazy to fry some brain cells. came across this site, said, what the hey, and ended up taking all these exams.

so i made this list for people more bored than me.

maybe it'll shed some light on my weirdness.

apparently, i am a pepper. makes sense, i guess.


You Are Cayenne Pepper



You are very over the top and a bit overwhelming.

You have a fiery personality, and you can give anyone a good jolt.

You can easily take things up a couple notches, no matter what crowd you're running with.


-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
fine. i am NOT girly. honestly, girls scare me.


You Are 70% Boyish and 30% Girlish



You are pretty evenly split down the middle - a total eunuch.

Okay, kidding about the eunuch part. But you do get along with both sexes.

You reject traditional gender roles. However, you don't actively fight them.

You're just you. You don't try to be what people expect you to be.

How Boyish or Girlish Are You?
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

hi i'm Hokulani Kalia. mouthful, ain't it? not like i need another name.

Your Hawaiian Name is:


Hokulani Kalia


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

i am weirdo. no news there.


You Are 44% Weirdo



You're definitely quite strange, but you can act like a normal person when you have to.

(But just because you can act normally, it certainly doesn't mean you want to!)

You have normal aspects to your personality... but you usually don't choose to emphasize them.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

so, i like orange. sue me.



Your Aura is Orange



You're a bit of a loner, but you're never lonely. You know how to entertain yourself.

Whether you're trying an extreme sport or a new weird food, you always live on the edge.


The purpose of your life: testing limits - both physical and mental... and then telling people about it.

Famous oranges include: Timothy Leary, David Blaine, Tony Hawk, Carey Hart

Careers for you to try: Snowboarder, Circus Performer, Undercover Agent

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

this is the only result i don't like. what do you mean i'm NOT destined
for freakin' world domination?!!!


You Are Not Destined to Rule the World



You are destined for something else...
Like inventing a new type of cupcake.
You just don't have the stomach for brutality.
But watch out - because many people do!

Monday, July 7, 2008

talk is cheap. debate. (well, it can get cheap too)

(try ko nga mag-post in tagalog, one time. okay, more like taglish. okay, more like english na may halong tagalog konteh. )

nakakaloka etong pinasukan ko. parang gusto kong mag-sisi na kinareer ko tong debate churva at talagang leveling, kasi nag-decide pa akong mag-coach... but ganun talaga, you contribute where you can. to pay for my social sins (?!) and contribute na rin to the elevation of the mediocre minds that surround me, ika nga.

haha. pasensya, elitist lang talaga ako. kaya naman self-proclaimed demi-goddess ang lola nyo sa weekly. parang 'human, but not quite'. (bwahaha! parang mali ata).

o sige, divine na kung divine, pero hindi pa rin kinaya nga pseudo-divinity ko ang mga pamatay na hataw ng mga hayop na nagbabalat-kayong debater sa mga nangyaring samut-saring debates na na-encounter ko sa loob at labas ng walang kasing bonggang school na eto. parang gusto mag-tumbling (pucha, word ba to?) sa mga kabalastugang pinagsasabi ng mga hinayupak na debaters dito. in fairness, masaya sya. yung tipong tatawa ka na lang kaysa umiyak sa frustration.

that's not to say naman na di na talaga magaling yung mga debaters dito. syempre, magaling yung babies ko. dugo at pawis din kaya ang pinuhunan ko sa mga yan no. tsaka, likas lang talaga na may innate talent ang mga babies ko. hinukay ko pa nga lang before lumabas. hahaha.

o, siya, siya, before mag-alsahan ang mga debaters ko sa mga pinagsasabi ko dito, i-shi-share ko na sa inyo ang mga naipon kong mga hayop na banat ng mga nasobrahan sa debate talent dito:

prime minister: today we are faced with the motion, 'This house celebrates the rise of gayborboods', and we define gayborhoods as happy communities.
(ah ok. so yung mga bakla, happy people? ganun? oo nga naman, 'gay' nga di ba.)

isang debater na itago natin sa pangalang 'ngit-ngit', as in, madilim:
ok. uhm... oh my god... ok. uhm... yeah... so... oh my god... wait... uhmm...
(galing. pang-championship round eto)

reply speaker: their case is like a hot air baloon, big but weightless. our case is like a bowling bowl, small but compact.
(o, laban ka sa analaogies nya? panalo ate!)

opp'n: we think that revolutions are helping the people air out their sentiments to the government.
gov't (raising a point): sir, we are talking about demonstrations here not revolutions. when you talk about revolutions, that's people going to the mountains!
opp'n: what? go to the mountains?! why should they go to the mountains? they should stay here!
(mahal ko talaga si opp speaker. isa syang dakilang 'pooh' in the making. hanep pang stand-up comedian. kaya lang masyadong literal ang pananaw sa buhay netong si pooh.)

debater na dapat paramihin ang lahi: you know what, the government doesn't have to provide jobs for the people in the squatters area, i mean, these are people from the barrio, and people from the barrio know how to make baskets!
(perfect. yan lang ang masasabi ko sa analysis nya. perfect. )

isa pang debater na dapat paramihin ang lahi: okay. why should we celebrate the invention of gay language? okay. well, boys have their own language, girls have their language... so, gays should have their own language too!
(uy... girls... isali nyo naman ako sa language nyo - mga hayop kayo, may language pala kayo. girl din naman ako a..)

o, di ba? sabi ko masaya? it so very much funny talaga, like over there. hehe
actually, chika lang tong pinaglalagay ko dito. totoo sya, pero you know, wala lang, uma-andar lang yung pagkabakla ko.

(disclaimer: kasi baka di na ako makapasok sa gate ng school neto. wala sa varsity ang nagsabi ng mga winning lines eto. at kung may nagbasa man na feeling nya e isa sya sa mga na-quote ko, feeling lang nya yon. hehehe.)

Thursday, July 3, 2008

How My Phone Reached Payatas: A Timeless Tale of Stupidity for Children of All Ages


(Disclaimer: I know this looks long. Like the whole friggin’ chapter of a really long, roundabout novel, but it just looks that way.)

Okay let me tell the story of how I lost my most recent cell phone, which - if my memory serves me right- is my 6th phone in five years. Believe me, this is the sort of story that you wish you'd live long enough to tell your future grand children.

So far the reactions I got from people I told about this ranged from hysterical laughter, to fits of wheezing, to looks of overwhelming mirth mixed with condescension -- the kind that people give to morons they pity. Notwithstanding that I am not particularly crazy about the last variety, I will tell this story once again because, well, everybody could use a funny story: stories of people's stupidity over which we laugh our asses off because the idiot in the story does not happen to be us (except in this case, it is me. The idiot, I mean).

So before I start to completely sound like a sphinx (uh-huh, complex), let me tell you how it all happened...

Sometime last April, I found myself in Manila together with VIP members of the debate varsity to attend a competition we each spent a couple of thousand bucks to lose (what can I say, we share a strong and unhealthy love for debate). We spent our days debating ourselves hoarse in the morning and commuting through jeepnies with manic-suicidal drivers and exercising futility by arguing with taxi drivers for the sheer hell of it at night.

This was our routine for the first three days until we met JR. JR is Darwin’s hotshot friend from QC who finds his happiness in making other people drunk. To this, we of course have no objections, because we also happen to believe that one of things that bring most joy in life is getting drunk for free.

And so there we were, the 10? 11? 12? of us (sorry I was really drunk, yet another result of idiocy when I mistook a glass of vodka for water and downed the whole thing as chaser for tequila - painful, I know) at Eastwood. Them doing unholy and unmentionable things (hehe, it's sounds more interesting that way) while I dozed off on the table, dead to the world and blind to crazy shit going on that ill-fated joint we chose for the night. I would like to say that this was when I lost my phone and it would have been at least understandable – even forgivable - though not less stupid of me.

But no. It was the night after this, when I was SOBER that I lost my phone.

So the next night, yet again with JR and his intentions of getting us drunk, we came back to Eastwood. The valet was surprised to see us all sober and threw us a knowing look which made me confused at whether to be happy or sorry that I slept through last's night affair.

Yet again we went to the same place which I found out was called 'bedroom' (figures) or was it ‘bed space’? (But what kind of bar owner would do that to himself right?) They had these neat tube thingies that served as transparent kegs (-like containers) for the draft beer. JR, true to his nature, dropped a shot of tequila for every glass we had, and yet wonders of wonders, I stayed sober till the end of the night. (I’m sure if I ended up asleep again that night, the owner would seriously rethink his whole 'bedroom' concept.)

Anyway, before we headed home, one of the geniuses I was with decided to stop at KFC for food and I decided to buy that breaded chicken thing I kept seeing so much of on TV. I just happen to be one of those people for whom commercials are made -- I wanted amapalaya with meaty seasoning after seeing those damn kids sing "makulay ang buhay sa sinabawang gulay” – which according to my English friend from UK is ‘thuh wohst advuhtisment uhy’ve seen in my uhntire life.” So now that we're in KFC, their chicken strips commercial (which I am now loathe to recall because it was the reason I lost my phone) flashed in my head and I suddenly wanted the chicken with the sweet corn and the cheese even though I wasn't hungry.

For some stupid reason, given my amazing ability to lose stuff, I decided to leave my bag at JR’s car and took out my phone, wallet and a back-issue of a E-Buzz magazine featuring my role model and greatest influence in life, Lindsay Lohan, in all her wasted glory on the cover. So there I was, lined up to order those blasted chicken strips with the sweet corn and the cheese. My memories of the ensuing events for that night are now a blur, but I do recall walking out with my plastic of take-out food, still silently enthralled by Lindsay latest sanity breakdown. I think we gathered around JR’s spotlessly clean table in his aggravatingly immaculate apartment to eat and exchange absurd stories about absolutely nothing before retiring at around two in the morning.

It wasn’t until we we’re about to head for the pier to board the boat home the next day that I noticed my phone was missing. The whole time I was assuming it was in my huge shoulder bag which contained a surprisingly extensive (albeit jumbled) collection of useless necessities into which an extraction of anything required an excavation.

But I finally decided to unearth my phone through the rubble, and was extremely annoyed to find out it wasn’t there. I wasn’t panicking until I went through every single thing for the third time and still didn’t find it. I was then close to hyperventilation at this point because:
a) that was the first thing of value I bought with my own money
b) I will never find a phone in that exact shade of orange (*sob*)
c) I had a nagging idea of where it was, and when I tell you later, you will understand why it is a cause for hyperventilation

Before I really started to hyperventilate, I asked Darwin to ask JR if I left my phone at his apartment, to which JR replied negatively. I decided to come check his place myself anyway because I could have left it in his car. It wasn’t there either. We went back to that cursed KFC joint and asked. It still wasn’t there. At this point, a dirge was playing in my head ala JAWS just before Bruce the Shark attacked.

Good ole’ JR had dragged himself off bed and joined in my crazy, pointless search for my ill-fated orange phone. I finally had to admit that there was only was place to look for:


Dum, dum, dum, duuum…


JR’s trash can.


Uh-huh, you read it right.

“Damn it, I think I threw it with my take-out. I mean the damn thing was orange.” I said.
It could perfectly blend with the contents, namely, that cursed KFC chicken overload with the gravy, cheese and sweet corn affair. JR was too dumbfounded to react to this, and instead went inside his car and motioned me to do the same so we could fish through his trash.

We could have made ‘the Flash’ proud at the speed with which we scaled JR’s building to get to his unit on the 7th floor. (I know it sounds like we climbed the thing, but we used the elevator, of course, which is not exactly speedy – but we were whizzing in speed in my mind nevertheless).

We burst through the door, went to the kitchen, patted his two pet dogs (I love those guys) and emptied the contents of his trash bin real Flash-like. No take-out bag. No leftovers of KFC’s chicken overload with gravy, cheese and sweet corn. No orange phone.

“Uh. Where did your trash go?” I asked JR stupidly. To which JR said, “Duh.”

It would have been more fun if he had said, “Hmmm. Let me think… Oh I know! The chute! C’mon, let’s not waste any more time. Let’s rescue your phone from the overzealous janitors!” then morphed into Red Ranger of the Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers.

We went down the basement hoping against hope (which, though misplaced, is admirable, I might add), got to the room to which the chute leads to, held our breath (not for effect, but because it’s going to be really smelly in there) and opened the door:

Two words: Emp. Ty. Totally empty. (Audio clip: chirping of crickets here)

I closed the door. Slumped my shoulders dramatically, thanked JR, got my bags from his OC heaven (or hell, depending on whose perspective) of an apartment, and forlornly went my way.

And my phone? Well, presumably, it’s in Payatas now, hopefully to be found and sold by a garbage person, the proceeds of which will then pave the way to help a Payatas kid finish a degree and become of this country’s greatest doctors/engineers/talk show hosts.

Okay, it wasn’t that expensive, but dreaming up scenarios like the above-mentioned help lessen the pain of losing such a sentimentally valuable thingy, so just pretend to agree, ok?

Hah. That was a lot of my chest right there. Yeah, so, uh… that was how I lost my phone. Good times. So uhm, so long. I guess. Drop by my blog again sometime. Or something.

Ciao.

Tuesday, July 1, 2008

when your brain cells fail, repost!


Here's some of what Mitch said in her blog:


...there's nothing there. And I don't know where can I get a good enough reason to fill it up again.

What's more, I haven't been writing for the past six months. Not even blog entries that could be of use to the everyday life of people who might chance upon it. No witty turns of phrases here. No brilliant take on a topic that I am passionate about. It's like all my enthusiasm to write got buried under a busy Cebu street, and I totally forgot about it or am too apathetic to dig it up again.

My job is interesting; I like my new room near I.T. Park. I visit Dumaguete once a month; I text, catch up on the latest news, write emails, discuss proposals, meet and talk with friends.

My life is fine. But I am not on fire.

And I feel like, as I sit here in front of the computer wishing I were far away, I would like to be on fire very, very much.

And here's my comment to that:

ditto. D-I-T-T-O. can one say super ditto and make sense? I feel like standing up and shouting "hear, hear!" It's like whenever i write i stop in the middle because i've forgotten what i was writing for and about in the first place. it's scary not to feel strongly about anything anymore. waaay scary... i used to be filled with strong emotions (misplaced yes, but strong nonetheless), now i'm a friggin' dessert. not lifeless but just really really dry...
I mean seriously, I can't even write my own shit and just keep reposting stuff. Sheesh.