an overdose of life

break

2011-11-23T17:57:00.000-08:00

i felt pain from reading her words.
a goddamned caption and yet it was searing enough
that i felt something inside break.

she doesn't know how lucky she is.
i had all that time with him and i tried so hard.
i wasn't sure enough to start it. he wasn't sure
enough to broach it.

but i did try. i tried so goddamned hard.

then she came.

and now they have months and probably
will have years to their name, if not the rest of
their lives.

i am breaking.
i am seething.
i am... resigned.

i was too broken to begin with.

i couldn't have kept him.

i'm just not whole enough.

Life at Twenty-Five

2011-03-16T05:30:00.000-07:00

This wasn't how I thought I'd find myself at twenty-five.

A thousand and one scenarios had gone through my mind growing
up. I thought I'd be be climbing a career ladder somewhere,
stable and established. I thought I'd have found that annoying
insistence of the idealization of “the one” despite all my
feminist sensibilities. At one point or another, I'd thought I
would already have had a baby (although ideally, I pegged this
scenario at 27 or 28). I thought I'd be making it big. I thought
I'd be this complete, successful individual... taking the world
one article or documentary at a time.

Funny how life decides to slap you awake and make you realize just
how naïve we are to think we can just plan our lives and then fate
will timidly and gladly take that blueprint off our hands and make
all our dreams come true.

Because this is NOT where I thought I'd be. If people had told me
at say, twenty that this is where I'll be at twenty-five, I would
have laughed at their faces and would not have, for a moment,
taken such a ridiculous scenario seriously.

Who knew.

I haven't found "the one" or even just someone and instead just
had my heart broken too many times, I can't even figure out how
I let it happen so many times in the first place. I let go of
“the dream” I built my academic and extra-curricular credentials on
for my entire college existence for a chance at love that turned out
to be one of my worst gambles. I tasted what it felt like to get
published, to write and be read, to do what I love...
but now, I don't know where the dream has gone.

And now at twenty-five, halfway through my twenty-sixth birthday, I
sit here, reeling because life is happening to me this very moment.
Knocked up. Outside of wedlock. Broke. Jobless. Alone. Carrying the
child of a man-boy who is currently my personal version of the devil
incarnate. Writing this post in an effort to figure out what got me
here while waiting in anxious anticipation for the birth of my
daughter which could happen in a few weeks, or any minute. Wondering
where I went wrong. And most importantly, trying to figure out what
kind of life broken, irresponsible, confused me could ever give
this baby.

Oh the self-pity trips I take everyday.

I only got two more pills on my pre-natal meds bottle, an OB
appointment in a few days, two expensive tetanus shots to take and
no idea how to pay for them. I search the net for articles on
pregnancy and skip all the parts that talks about daddy's role.
I resent that stupid Anmum advertisement with the woman that goes
“Now that I'm pregnant, my husband makes sure I do what's best
for me too”. I balk every time people ask me where the dad is and
when I plan to get married because no matter how smoothly I lie,
my eyes always say otherwise.

I wake up every morning and do my daily walk and wonder what
people think when they pass by this pregnant girl walking by
herself on mornings. Do they wonder where her husband is?
Does it show that I care what they think when they look
at me?

Why do I even care anyway?

When I line up for my OB visit and I sit sy-by-side with other
pregnant women with their supportive husbands and partners, I
wonder if they look at me sideways and try to hide their pity.
When I ride in jeepneys and see whole families squished together
going home from the church or mall or whatever, I wonder will
my baby ask herself why she never has a dad to ride jeepneys
or go to church or to the mall with? And when she asks me,
will I ever figure out a way to tell her without highlighting
the brokenness of our little incomplete family?

I never run out of material. I am the oppressed, rejected
heroine in my tragic little teledrama.

But in truth, I am not that naïve.

Not about this at least. As much as I enjoy playing the drama
queen, I know I have no right to pretend to be the victim here.
Fate really isn't the architect of our lives. We are. And
wherever we find ourselves, at any point in our lives, we know
well enough that we constructed the circumstances that led us
there. Okay, maybe fate constructed the circumstances, but how
we responded to those circumstances and those decisions and
choices we made brought us to where we are.

I chose to believe him despite common sense telling me it's a
pile of bullshit. I was the one who willingly allowed myself
to confuse intimacy with love even though I've told myself not
to let that happen. I cried the tears I knew I'd cry even though
I had every opportunity to prevent them and enough experiences
to know better. Or so it seemed.

Right now, I just want to pop a champagne and celebrate my
stupidity with a mirror in front me so I can look at myself
with derision the entire time while I toast at my reflection.

And I really would. If I could take alcohol which I can't.
If I can afford champagne which I also can't.

Which brings me back to my baby. My baby whom I love beyond
reason even though we haven't met. My baby who I already worry
about even though she's not even here yet. My baby who I will
be responsible for forever when I'm not even sure I'm responsible
enough for my self yet.

It's easy to write down the lessons and look at the mess-that-is-
my-life nicely typed in black and white, as if it's all sorted out.
But I know just how confusing it's all going to be when she comes.

Still, the messy confusion of life is what makes it beautiful.
That's where the colors spring from. That's where the stories
come from. It's the stuff that those lasting memories are made
of. And even though, I'm at it again, making another blueprint
for two lives now, I'll re-read this post once in while and
remind myself that it may turn to be a lot different that I
thought it would be in my head and I should always remember
that I'm no longer deciding for myself.

And as much as that feels me with dread, it fills me with
excitement as well. I don't know what kind of mother I'm going
to be. I guess I'll just have to take this parenting thing one
day at a time and hope that five, ten years from now, I'll be
popping champagne celebrating how despite my stupidity, despite
my being me, life is still turning out to be a whole hell of a
lot better than I could ever plan.

two pink lines

2011-02-20T04:57:00.000-08:00

*just something I wrote at the height of the pregnancy drama :) still
very much pregnant, goin seven months, and despite, well despite
everything... i am very happy and beside myself with excitement
to meet our girl and the the newest BBum. haha.

There they are.

Those two pink lines.

So benign looking and unassuming. The simple (and inevitable)
result of my urine’s current composition and whatever chemicals
they doused that thing with. Just two miniscule lines, and yet
their appearance felt like a physical slap, leaving a screaming
red mark on its wake.

All those dreams, all those carefully laid plans, gone.

Those three agonizing minutes that the lines took before shyly
revealing themselves: those were the last three minutes of my
life as i know it. When those lines confirmed what has become
a nagging certainty at the back of mind, I ceased becoming who
I was, and became someone all parents dreaded their sweet little
girl to be: a unwed mother, a single parent, possibly a soon-to-be
estranged sister and disowned daughter. Not to mention what those
two lines REALLY mean. That there will be a whole entire person,
half me, half him and entirely, completely herself that i will be
responsible for forever.

I cannot begin to fathom the gravity of you.

But I am, despite all my fears and shortcomings, very very excited
to meet you.

tired

2010-10-18T01:05:00.000-07:00

i am tired of this cat and mouse game we are playing.
you let me catch you for a bit, and then you run off again
most of the time i seem to be the cat
but really, i'm the mouse being played at
i am tired of constantly feeling like
begging for something that isn't mine
well, you're certainly not mine
not your life, not your attention, not your time
what i'm asking, what i want to know
is in that whole world of you,
how much are you willing to share with me?
and in that unfathomable well of a mind
how many thoughts will you think with me?

because i am tired of running
and playing this little game
and i am tired of sitting
and i am tired of waiting
and i am tired of hoping
...i'm all packed and ready to go
but you never stop
long enough for me to get on.

12 hours in dumaguete

2010-08-04T08:30:00.000-07:00

time. seems like we're always running out time. all we get
are snatches and moments, hurried kisses and abrupt embraces...
measly hours that seem like seconds.

on the long exhuasting bus ride that will take me to my boat
to Dumaguete, scenarios kept running through my head like from
some icky pinoy B-grade romance flick.

Bea to John Lloyd: "Sana ako ulit..."
John Lloyd: "She had me at worst, you had me at my best, but you
chose to break my heart."

i started snickering to myself which made the passenger beside me
give me a tentative look and shuffled a little to the window.

The boat trip made me more anxious. So anxious that it took me a
couple of minutes to notice the guy who was nervously asking if i was
in the right bunk.

As it happens, no, i am not in the right bunk. And yes, i plan to
occupy this one nevertheless.

The poor bloke didn't put up a fight.

i grew a conscience and offered to transfer and in turn he offered to
look for my bed first and then help me with my bags.

i thought he wasn't coming back, but when he did, he looked like he
scoured the whole ship and it turns out, my blasted bunk was in the
bottom probably right next to the engine from the looks of him.

anyway, i ended up occupying his bed for the rest of the trip and
surprisingly, he and his friends actually turned up to be interesting
company. we swapped anecdotes, laughed and i welcomed the distraction.

before going on this trip, i had hoped to not run into people i know
because i wanted time to think. to ask myself what i hoped to get
from seeing him. where i hoped to find myself and us after we met
and talked.

but i've been asking myself the same thing for months and i felt like
going in circles.

after all been's said and done. i'm still drawin up a blank wall.

04/18/08

---- this story had one hell of a bad ending.

two years later, i feel i'm going down the exact same path.
different male lead. same plot. same setting even. blasted Dumaguete.
My haven and my pitfall.

will it still have the same ending?

08/04/10 - 11:36 PM

gifts

2010-07-31T02:14:00.000-07:00

give me stars
give me a garden
where i can breathe
give me blossoms
falling gently
upon my head
give me oceans
give me reasons
to know that i live
or better yet
give me you
to give it to

- mickey
hayahay, july 2010

don't hate me for publishing this mickey.
i have two excuses:
1. my blog is just begging for this poem
2. i have no words for that night, except these beautiful
borrowed ones and that night begs to be chronicled as well

somebody gag me

2010-06-14T08:57:00.000-07:00

words.

i've found so many uses for them.

change people's opinions. make students look at the same things
differently. get what i want. weave stories. build whatever i
want on thin air. forge acquaintances. get people's favor.

but it is when words are most powerful, that they are at their
most dangerous as well.

because i use words to hurt people too. to manipulate, blackmail
and cut people down to size. i could cut you right down the middle
with a sentence. i could make gashes deeper and more painful than
any flesh wound with words spoken in spite. i could peel off any
pretense and force you to display painfully hidden insecurities.

when i get hurt i verbally lash out and use words that cut deeper
than knives.

i try to hurt people less, but well, TRY is still the operative
term.

just had a bout with my father and we're both emotionally bleeding
right now.

he says i'm ungrateful and useless and stupid and should just move
out, i say the same things and ask him why he thinks this is
his house.

i am a bad person.

skinship

2010-05-02T10:51:00.000-07:00

weird how i could kiss some random guy and not stand someone's arm
on my shoulder. it's like that debate motion: this house believes
that consent should be the only standard on sexual relationships.

totally bordering on truism, i should say. but it's interesting how
it makes a world of difference.

if only ALL males were born with awareness of such.

i'd finally get him off my back and settle in comfortable
companionship.

a girl can only ask as much.

*dedicated to onew and jonghyun oppas. hehehe :P

chef for the summer

2010-04-09T07:48:00.000-07:00

because the last couple of weeks are starting to feel like
the makings of the most boring summer ever, i have decided
to spice life up a bit. quite literally.

now this might not be the best decision for the people
who live with me (including those who will be within
striking proximity over the summer) given that they will
be the default guinea pigs for my (hopefully) weekly
concoctions. but they seem to be okay after consuming my
first recipe so...i would say it is safe to proceed.

aja! XD

happiness

2010-04-04T11:44:00.000-07:00

the thing about happiness is that it can only be pursued...

a friend in facebook posted this recently and upon reading it,
i was instantly seized by the desire to outrightly counter it,
only to come up empty-handed.

because, well... it's true.

this elusive concept is something everyone constantly aspires
to capture but is only able to do so fleetingly. there's no such
thing as a constant state of happiness. or more to the point,
there's no such thing as a happy-ever-after.

but this little post isn't to dampen anyone's easter-induced cheer.
just sayin maybe we've all gone about it all wrong. the objective
should never have been a happy-ever-after in the first place. i
don't know about you, but i would dread such a boring state. i mean,
seriously, does anyone really want to be ALWAYS happy? to be
friggin' cheerful 24/7? like, constant, uninterrupted bliss, every
day,for the rest of your life? gah.

No, i don't think no one sane would want that. It's like what my
fictional alter-ego Ally Mcbeal (it's my blog, shut up) said,
"The real truth is, I probably don't want to be too happy or content.
Because, then what? I actually like the quest, the search. That's the
fun. The more lost you are, the more you have to look forward to. What
do you know? I'm having a great time and I don't even know it."

So yes, it is meant to be pursued. But that's just the point, isn't it?
Life is about the journey, the pursuit, or the climb if you're into
miley's pop psychology.

And it's not so bad.

I'd live for five minutes of happy in a week of blue and mondays.
Two cups of good coffee in a charming little nook after an entire
day of harassment at work. A beer or two with one good friend after
crying over three-a-half jerks.

Life's a bitch, but there are those moments, mere seconds even,
of happiness.

And in the end, those rare, fleeting moments are enough and all we
can really ask for.

Happy easter everyone :)

...because we all need to be loved

2010-02-23T09:04:00.000-08:00

at 21, i thought i had found the man i wanted to marry in him.
he came and asked for my hand in marriage from my impossibly
obstinate father. he loved me. we existed for each. every little
bit of me - the good parts, and yes the bad parts - amused him.

circumstances forced us apart. then he hurt me like no one else had.
hurt like hell.

... but i might still be in love with him.

then there was the soul mate.
he was my best friend. and i don't mean that like a cliche.
(although we were each other's cliche).we were always on the
same page. laughed at the same jokes. read the same books.
wondered about the same things. shared the same dysfunctions.
had the best conversations. i wrote poems for him and he
compared all his past girlfriends to me.friendship grew to love
and we tittered on the verge of forever.

or so i thought.

he cheated on me for the company whore (their label not mine).
hell then hath no fury like mine.

... but i still miss him.

now, here this amazing guy. talented like no one i've known this
up close. appealing, no, HOT. dotes on his father like no male
i've known and i find this completely endearing.

there's no oomph though. and i feel that even if we try, it won't
get anywhere. and i shouldn't emotionally invest in what can be
potentially painful

... i invest anyway.

why?
maybe because i'm a masochist.
or just plain incapable of learning from my mistakes, broken hearts
be damned.

here's one theory though.
we (or just me?) are loath to pass up an opportunity for love,
however awry or painful the circumstances may be. and the heart...
this amazingly one-dimensional thing that keeps pushin me to find
this man that reality tells me does not exist, CANNOT remember pain.

at the end of the day,
we all just want to be loved.

hooked on GD

2009-08-19T11:51:00.000-07:00

the guy's getting really addictive. he's practically
creating a different genre, all on his own. the
whole plagiarism hoax was brilliant, never for one
minute did i buy that someone as talented as jiyongshie
would plagiarize... but it sure upped the buzz.
this video is the fierce! ALL HAIL G-DRAGON...

GD, GD, baby baby baby... hwaiting oppa! :P

i refuse to tweet

2009-08-13T08:35:00.001-07:00

i've always been the exhibitionist sort. (stop
the mental images, i do not mean THAT) i mean,
i've always been the sort who craved attention
and basked in it, and is always hard-pressed
to shy away from any avenue that would provide it.
so when social networking became a thing, i was
in friendster every time i found myself in
front of a pc.

then blogging sites became popular so i
was into that too and then multiply, and
wordpress and livejournal... kahit myspace,
di ko pinatawad. (obviously, i have no accurate
sense of chronology of all this.)

and now, i have a FACEBOOK account as well.

i know, who doesn't?

but when twitter, and now plurk came around,
i took a double-take and went, 'woah, when
does it end?!' my head is just reeling from
all this at this point.

i mean, wasn't the point of social networking to
keep track of people? cause, i can't really keep
track of anyone anymore given the pseudonyms and
the multiple accounts and the plethora of virtual
communities i feel compelled to be part of, lest
i be shut out in the cold.

my virtual "friends" mostly aren't even my actual
friends.

so why approve/confirm their requests in the first
place? i'm sure you know the answer to that. this
superficial bond of anonymous strangers who pretend
to be this and that on the web and feign digital
affection who's real first names they're not even
sure of is the sort of relationships these sites breed.

so...

facebook is it for me. and if we're not REALLY friends,
here's one definite click on the reject button (or
whatever the hell it's called).

i'm sure you won't mind. you probably won't even notice.

and look! happyslip agrees with me XP

GMA's golden rule

2009-08-12T08:30:00.000-07:00

deflect, deflect, deflect.

and if that doesn't work? subscribe to the biggest fallacies
known to mankind: two wrongs doesn't make a right.

that's what her legion of moronic press officers (including her
lawyer) is trying to shove up our throats now: why are we getting
all the flack on this when everyone is doing it???

why the hell indeed. uh. i don't know, cause your boss is the
FRIGGIN'PRESIDENT OF THIS COUNTRY???

although, i must say her lawyer has a point, why ARE media outlets
allowing all this puke-inducing premature campaign ads? well,
obviously, for profit but still... does kind of drag them down from
their moral high ground.

freak. the deflect thing is even working on me! (GAH o.O).
those band of morons know their shit.

next president please...

2009-08-11T05:06:00.000-07:00

pucha naman. as if dumping that load of bull that was the SONA
and expecting us to eat it wasn't enough, she goes and does the
ultimate social crime: pig out in some high-class joint while
the rest of the country (which she happens to be the president of)
gnashes their teeth in hunger.
of course the media is justified to sensationalize the crap out of
gloria's P1M dinner. malamang!
sumusobra na sya... sarap mag-mura, kakapanood ko sa mga kagaguhan
nya sa balita parang minsan, sarap na ring mag-migrate but siguro,
may matinong presidente ding dadating.
tsk.tsk.tsk...
for Cory's sake, sana tumino na sya.

here's my yellow ribbon...

2009-08-03T10:54:00.000-07:00

It was unintentional that on the day President Cory Aquino passed
away I should find myself defending democracy on the finals night
of VMDC, clad in the exact shade of yellow that Cory was popular
for. But I am thankful nonetheless, to find myself in that position
and to have gone that far. My debaters joke maybe she had a hand
at it, albeit extremely far-fetched, I think the greater value is
in that to some extent, we gave her honor, especially for the gift
of giving us strength to fight for democracy.

May we never forget the lessons of EDSA...
May we never forget why Ninoy had to die...
And may we have the courage to stand up and lead when we are called to,
just like Cory Aquino.

To the bravest president we ever had, thank you and God speed.

why i hate being an adult...

2009-07-24T09:15:00.000-07:00

i can't step on puddles anymore.

they used to be the most fun thing in the world. i remember stepping
on EVERY puddle with glee when i go home from school after the rain.
now, when i happen to even semi-step on an itsy-bitsy one,
i freak out.

i have a filtering mechanism

like, i go crazy thinking about what to say, how to say it, how much
to say, who to say what to... argh! although i still end up saying
stupid stuff to the wrong people or saying wrong stuff to stupid people
or even talking to people i would don't actually want to talk to (a.k.a.
small talk), i miss being a kid and having the license to say every darn
thing i want.

i know about ULTERIOR motives

and i am to suspect people of having them.

i have to pretend to be nice

i am NOT a nice person. but i am not a bad person either. so i would
very much like to reserve the right to be nice when i want to and be
mean when i want to or not be nice simply because i am expected to,
dammit. but i have long surrendered that right and have this default
smile instead lest i be accused to not having PROPER manners.

i can't be too much of an idealist

i keep being told to "be realistic", "be practical", "look at the
world from a pragmatic sense of view", "get your head out of the
clouds"... and i am up to my neck with this shit. i vowed a long
time ago that i ain't taking my head out of the clouds to please
nobody and yet, just a couple of days ago i heard my self telling
my sister to "be practical..." i cringed. but it's too late.
apparently, i've got my feet planted firmly on the ground now.

i can't believe in cinderella anymore

because princes on white horses don't exist. true love is a load of
bull and people who believe in love at first sight and that they do,
in fact, lead to happily-ever-afters are delusional... i think most
of the me now has surrendered to this but there's still that part of
me who wants her chance at that ball with glass slippers on, wistfully
looking out the window for the fairy godmother to make it all come true.

i have no use for band-aids

adults have wounds in places where band-aids are completely useless,
see. i'd give anything to have the the kind of troubles that a trusty
band-aid can solve.

but mostly, i hate looking around and mostly, only seeing the bad instead of
the good. i don't know when i started to stopped being a kid,
but i wished i had paid more attention.

but then again, maybe i still have that bit of the kid in me. that
part who still believes that shooting stars grant wishes and that
rainbows are real and not some trick of the light.

maybe if i listened to the kid more often and not let the adults of
the world distract me too much... i just might start seeing more of
the good and the sight of a puddle would be reason enough make my day.

for Jello, on his Birthday

2009-07-14T20:51:00.000-07:00

I remember having him as an inspiration for the
first feature i wrote in weekly back in freshman
year (which feels like a million years ago already
-*sob*). i think i used a sucky "life raft" analogy
wherein i likened him to a buoy amidst troubled
waters (ack!). but regardless of my juvenile writing,
even then, i knew he was for keeps.

I can't believe it's been seven years.... Man, it's
been one hell of a ride. Can't imagine not having
met Jello. How dull life would have been. How misguided
those college years would have been. How completely
vapid and uneventful these last seven years would have been..

Now, on his birthday, I've got a lot to be thankful to the
big guy above for. I know this is gonna sound like rip-off
lines from a Hallmark card, but what the heck, I AM grateful.
For the one-of-kind friendship. For validating the existence
of soulmates. For much needed doses of tough love. For
the soul-sharing moments. I don't think i'll be able to
enumerate the ways you have irrevocably changed (for the
better, it's safe to assume - hehe) and shaped me as a
person..

Love you mam!!!

jello's back

2009-07-09T20:38:00.000-07:00

and so in commemoration, here's a little round
of fireworks from PES XD

check 'em out at youtube, btw. bunch of really talented
fellas, they are XD

Kina Grannis

2009-07-07T07:13:00.001-07:00

No, i'm not going lesbo... although i am going crazy
over this girl. she is just amazing. i'm practically
raving right now, i can't get over it. listen to
her version of MJ's Remember the Time and be struck
dumb in awe, then watch this video and get converted.

This one's an original and aside from her unbelievable
voice, you'll bawl over the words. Believe me, I cried
buckets over this song.

Here's the lyrics:

Stay Just a Little - Kina Grannis

I heard it in your voice when your love died
On a telephone connection stretching miles and miles of wire
You said it was over and then cried and cried
You were gone before I said goodbye

I don't like to think it is true
That distance came between us like a knife and cut right through
Where did we go wrong and let it all undo?
The only one I ever loved was you.

Would you stay just a little, my love?
Would you sway just a little my love?
Because the hole in the middle of my heart needs filling up
If you stay just a little, that's enough.

It kills me as I lay awake at night
Remembering the last kiss that we shared doesn't feel right
Is it impossible for me to win this fight
Keep you a little longer in my life?

Would you stay just a little, my love?
Would you sway just a little my love?
Because the hole in the middle of my heart needs filling up
If you stay just a little, that's enough.

this time he's a polyglot...

2009-06-27T08:41:00.000-07:00

meet my latest Asian find...

he's the 7th member of this Korean boy band (yes, boy band)called
2pm (i hear they randomly pick letter-number combinations off the
top of their heads... like... hmmm... F4?) who's half-Chinese/
half-Thai (kababayan ni BJ!) who speaks fluent Thai, English and
Korean. That's on top his being drool-worthy. This hottie is also
a decent dancer, even good at the acrobatic stuff (breakdancing,
is it?), he sings(boy band nga) and he plays the piano. My Nikhun
is quite a find, you would agree. notice the possessive pronoun. XD

you can't blame me for patronizing him over the local variety (blech).
not that I was ever inclined to, mind you.

broke

2009-06-23T07:53:00.000-07:00

Waiting in line for our school ATM has become a habit lately.
Every so often, I would pass by the booth and get the urge to
line up. Really, it's more of a favorite form of self-torture
because I am quite aware that my card has zero credit, and yet,
I welcome the delusion. I like lining up because for few minutes,
while sitting there pretending not to be broke, I can plan for
things I want to buy and think of places I want to eat at.

This is probably what poverty feels like.

I'm not saying I'm rich, but growing up, I hardly felt poor.
And yet, here I am, working but penniless for most of every month.

It's not that my job pays bad (although a raise can't hurt - who
can't use extra moolahs right?), it's just that I suck at budgeting
my money. And the crazy thing is, I don't know where it goes! It's like
during payday I check my account and I almost hear the machine go
ding! ding! ding!, I withdraw the money, and poof! a week later my
account balance goes back to zilch.

I haven't got anything to show for it, I tell you. It's not like there's
any place in Iligan I can splurge a whole month's earning on. I usually
just treat my sisters to eat out, have a few random buys, drop by
fastfoods more often... and suddenly, my wallet would grow cobwebs again.

Ahay. I know. I know. It's unwise spending: pure and simple.
Unfortunately, I can't say the same for learning how to SPEND WISELY.

tsk.tsk.tsk...

read this and be in awe.

2009-06-15T10:10:00.000-07:00

this dude, freidrich nietzsche, whose name i can neither
spell nor pronounce (yep, i copy-pasted it here), spewed
brilliant shit. brilliant, brilliant shit, i tell you. i mean
i know we get told lotsa times in philo - or was is
it logic? whatever- that this guy KNEW EVERYTHING or
something, but it wasn't until now that i became a believer.

the dude is BAD. he is THE man.

okay. i'll stop sounding like a moron now. anyway, i've
never read about anyone who had so out-rightly opposed
the very goals humanity has pledged to accomplish: peace
on earth and goodwill to men. these are the very foundations
all liberal democracies are laid on and yet this guy, very
casually laughed off these ideas as ridiculous, and you
know what? his thoughts makes perfect sense.

i know you might think i'm siding with the guy because, well,
the sheer gall of his defiance is simply awe-inspiring and i
could just be supporting the opposition since it's cooler and
being with the rightists is expected and boring (and i could
be to some extent)... but really, reading about how he thought
hierarchy and having caste systems is in the natural order of
things and that the truth of the matter is, men AREN'T created
equal - so why the freak can't anyone just live with that?! -
is probably the most inspired/genius/epiphanic (made that
last one up) thing i have ever heard.

he said that basically, there are three major broad classes of
men. the first are those who are inherently better than everyone
else: its nothing personal, they just are, and they aren't
supposed to lord this over lower mortals, because if the latter
didn't exist, the former wouldn't either. hear! hear!

those who come in second are the brawns. those who save the first
class the hassle of having to rule. the nobles. the kings. the
military. the judges. the defenders and enforcers of the rules
created by the first class.

and third, well, you've got the weakest class. those in charge of
the menial jobs in society. those who keep the wheels of production
working by literally turning those wheels themselves. their main
contribution to humanity is to become intelligent machines, and
you know what? they find their happiness in this so those sociologists
have no business writing books to burst the third class' mediocre
bubbles so they become discontented and envious and then demand for
crap like EQUALITY, because of this warped notion that if everyone
was like else, everyone would be HAPPY and then, there would be
PEACE ON EARTH.

i mean, i know, right? how retarded is that?!

so, in conclusion, what i'm saying is that we are all morons.

and nietzsche is like, the baddest philosopher of all time.

i raise my hat to you freidrich, my man. you truly know your shit.

i am aware that i do him no justice, so, for more enlightenment,
read this. and basically all the other legit stuff written about the guy. XD

got piss drunk last nyt...

2009-06-10T04:24:00.000-07:00

...which has become a pretty novel occurrence
for me as of late. haha.

imagine that.

but i've tamed down, see... gone are my wild child
days (sounded like a hippie, just there). ack.

anyway, so i got drunk playing poker with a
bunch of guys i met through my cousin. and since
my alcohol tolerance has been on an all-time low
these days, i normally slink out of the party to
doze off my drunkenness till its time to head out
(as opposed to the embarrassing "maoy" moments
of the olden, immature days).

and the reason i'm writing about this alcohol-induced
episode is this: this bunch of guys happen to be
a rather accurate microcosm of the entire male species:
a bunch of horny jerk-offs who girls REALLY shouldn't
get drunk with, and even though nothing happened last
night, i was reminded that females really shouldn't be
so trusting of unfamiliar male company, yet again,
especially if alcohol is involved.

i have realized the hard way that i am the sort of girl
who is susceptible to people who are inclined to take
advantage, and i am quite dissappointed with myself
for this.

*sigh*

i miss the harmless male variety who were my friends in
college. Bombom who always made sure i got home safe,
who was always willing to take me (or any female friend
in need) home. Xander who was always the gentleman.
Jaye who protected me from bad company. My ex's frat
brothers who made me feel like a princess. And even Kit
and Kuya Mark who offered to beat up that sneaky Paolo
character who tried to take advantage of me... I could
sleep in the same bed and nothing would happen.

NO, they are not gay. Just decent.

what changed? does iligan exclusively breed jerks? hindi
rin, i have some decent kabsis naman. did my taste in male
company deteriorate then? hmmm... for the first time, i
actually feel anxiety towards meeting new people...

i know this society is inclined to blame me (or women
in general) for going out with guys and drinking in the
first place or for wearing say, skimpy clothes (which
i wasn't, but that's not the point). but that's just
a pail-full of bullshit double standards right there.
there is no valid reason- for guys to go all pervy
and drop lines that could qualify as sexual harassment
or for married men to hit on girls they meet.

i dunno, maybe the world really is never without jerks and
lately, for some reason, i happen to within striking distance.
they actually make me want to reconsider being single, just
to have someone to ward them off. but i detest NEEDING a guy.
and also, where can i find someone decent? haha. i'm not
trying to make a hasty generalization. i'm sure not ALL
guys are assholes but last night just makes me feel like
shunning all male company for a month.

hay... bakit salat sa matitinong lalake ang mundo? maybe i
should just stick to my vicarious relationships with my kim
bum and joe cheng.

at least these guys are completely harmless.
nyaha :P

down the rabbit hole...

2009-06-02T08:59:00.000-07:00

i am getting more fidgety by the minute. i feel like alice
falling down the friggin' rabbit hole (did she even fall? i
mean how big is that hole anyway?) but only after she knowingly
jumped in, even gleefully so, then hesitating in the middle and
of course painfully realizing one cannot go against gravity.

am i even making sense?

ugh. if i were to be honest, i am EXACTLY where i want to be. it
all seems like limbo but really, i have carved for myself a path
which i intend to follow through if only they weren't so many
variables on the way: like will i actually pass LAE? if i don't,
will i pass in any other decent law school? because ateneo
(assuming i'll pass) is totally out of the question, and will i
even be able to afford to sustain myself?

gawd.

and yet... i am willing to trudge on, albeit for reasons that are
yet to be clear to me, or maybe clarity isn't even the issue. maybe
i just don't want to admit that law school is my excuse to get out.
i mean, why do i really want it? is it because i view it as a lesser
evil? a more preferable default set-up? like, as opposed to... what?
this limbo i'm in. of iligan. of finishing a master's degree i didn't
want or need in the first place. of this rather cozy set-up of
living with parents and not having bills to pay.

arrrgh. i have no idea where i'm getting at. and i apologize to the
poor shmucks who might find themselves reading this. i'd write this
dumb entry on my journal if i wasn't so attention-deprived...
besides, i could use the validation of having people comment over my
worthless dilemma. guess, i'm just throwing this virtual SOS in the
hopes someone can dispense some decent advice my way. (not that
i'm the type to even listen in the first place... XD)

*sigh*

but really, knowing myself, i think i want this because i live my
life by going through one rabbit hole to another. i thrive when i
am stripped off all my securities. otherwise, i get too comfy and
slack off.

...just not sure if, a. that self-assessment is valid and/or accurate
and b. if this is one rabbit hole i should stay out off.

(i have no idea why i keep forcing the 'alice in wonderland' analogy.
guess i'm too lazy to be more creative)

they struck me...

2009-05-30T07:00:00.000-07:00

her words:

My days are consumed by the one need to name moment to moment – enfleshing the world into words so that they may be turned
in my hand, in my palm, and what it is that sits in my heart,
can sit in my hand instead, and be thrown away into the sea;
or kept in my pocket as keepsake. I walk the seashore of life
and decide which rocks to keep, which to discard, which to put
away so that I may mix and match at some later date; call upon
a memory to authenticate a point; call upon a look I hit upon
to explain character motivation; always, always keeping score.

I've always wanted to say that... but she found the words
first and wove them together more beautifully than I ever could.
I think writing is like that. Weaving words like pieces of thread
into a mat or a blanket or maybe even a sweater, each stitch done
by hand, and always, carefully so. Anything that's woven by hand
is unique. Anything anybody writes will always be unique. Even if
you use the same words, follow the same stitching patterns...
So maybe, that's why I write. I fancy myself a weaver. Making
something tangible out of my warbled thoughts. Making pieces of
fiction my reality by writing down words. Hoping someone can feel
comfort or warmth from this blanket of words that I wove.

note: this post is a response to michee's 'why i write' post

michael left for canada today

2009-05-22T21:54:00.000-07:00

actually, he won't be outside of the country till the 27th...
but still, iligan feels a little emptier without him. the debate
varsity has just lost a coach, IIT, one of its rockinest teachers
and me, a confidante and she-brother... (haha, peace)

mam, for all the sleepless nights over debate, the kapalpakan
with boys (*wink*), the unquantifiable alcohol our friendship
has consumed and its repercussions (*wink* na pod)...the laughter,
the tears, the losses and victories we've shared... thank you. you've
made iligan a lot more fun...

looking forward to our next shobar break :) love you mam...yarokzta!

afternoons with a guru

2009-05-20T04:23:00.000-07:00

i've just spent a couple of very intellectually fulfilling
and emotionally stimulating afternoons having tea with a friend
i have wanted to run into for a long time.

he's a rather complicated package whose personality cannot
be done justice through descriptions, however exhaustive.
he is someone to be experienced. but it will just have to suffice
to say that among other things, he is an old soul with deep
insights on life and people.

he hails from sri lanka and is a teacher and psychotherapist
by profession. he sees your deepest secrets and who you really
are behind that mask we are all fond of wearing. he can be
scary in that he peels away all your pretensions with
a probing gaze, but is your greatest friend in that he sees
the full extent of your brokenness and yet understands that
this doesn't in any way diminish the beauty of who you are.

once again, he has helped me come in terms with the difficult
aspects of who i am, reminded me of how to deal with the
dysfunctions i have and taught me how to better love myself.

Ultimately, this is the most important lesson of all,
being human means being imperfect, but living means
you never stop trying to be better.

For the striking lessons, the arresting insights,
and the beautiful conversations... i offer my thanks anton.

Until the next time we run into each other...

oh... i will soo relocate to korea for you

2009-05-19T10:42:00.000-07:00

i know you heart him too...
jologs na kung jologs! :P

soulmates

2009-05-16T06:31:00.000-07:00

the greeks believe that humans used to be the perfect creatures.
man and woman were one. the jealous gods were not happy with this
and broke the perfect creatures apart...
and so it is said that our reason for being on earth is to find
that other half...
so we could be perfect and whole again.

...no matter how much of a realist i become, i will never stop
believing in this story.
:)

random rant

2009-05-13T01:52:00.000-07:00

I may not know a lot of things, but this one truth I can certainly vouch for:
the world will never run out of assholes. bow.

i am currently...

2009-05-03T20:30:00.000-07:00

...trying to learn how to play the guitar.
goin' through the motions, sore fingers,
chipped nail polish and awkward strumming
actually lovin' it :P

...cause i'm leavin' on a jet plaaane...
hehe

aRt

2009-05-03T07:09:00.000-07:00

here's a quote from exie abola that totally
struck me

While entertainment strokes our ego
and makes us content with ourselves
and the world we live in,
art calls us to go beyond our comfort zone,
to expand the limited spheres of our existence.
It admonishes us to become more than who we
already are.
… Art disturbs us into living.”

damn.

too cute...

2009-04-25T23:37:00.001-07:00

im all weepy about the weepies... in a good way :)

let me pull an iago (on procrastination)...

2009-04-25T22:52:00.000-07:00

constant reminders do not constantly remind you of anything. they just serve as a license to forget.

it's the moles, i tell you

2009-04-24T19:24:00.000-07:00

recent events have pushed me to an internal debate: am i a troublemaker?
or does the world just seem to disagree with me on the things that matter?

as you probably have read, i've been ranting in my last two FB
stat msgs about supposedly educated people and their lack of
breeding. this stemmed from a brouhaha which happened in UP during
our latest debate tournament wherein some debaters sank to the level
of being palengkeras and verbally flayed me in the bus due to a
comment i made in FB, a million years ago (okay, after a certain
episode in SquareOff).

i think it got rather out of hand, which i think made my
institution and the institution of those... lets call them
"bad people" (haha), get infamous reputations in the debate
circles. tsk. tsk. tsk...

but as you very well know, this ISN'T the first time something
like this happened. i've had people getting mad at me for words
i said and opinions i've expressed: both verbally and on paper.
alhtough, i conceed that particular FB comment was thoughtless
and tactless, most of the OTHER things I opine about are words
i can vouch for (i.e. atty. paguia and his scathing, rather
demeaning response to a question he never really answered).

but you know what they say, all things that end well...
(dang, i forgot the rest of the expression). they apologized
and i've apologized back as well (yes, i'm mature now and actually
say 'sorry' to people... so long as they deserve it. nyaha)

i'm out to make more waves in debate however, and it it'll inevitably
get me... well, more infamous. i'd have to be careful not to drag
my institution or make them fully understand my stances and
therefore my choices, so they can support me (assuming they
will choose to) with an informed choice. this isn't a vendetta,
it's supporting a movement (albeit a risky, possibly controversial
one) that i sincerely think will create changes that will uplift
debate in the philippines.

after all these, people are asking me to you know, change (i think),
and generally avoid such compromising situations. well, you know
how i hate it when people ask me NOT to be me. i will NOT change.
i will be more tactful, yes, since it's always a goal to be a
better version of yourself, but i will NOT change who i am. i
think the moles give fair warning: i'm not one to sit around and
be mum.

because this is what i learned from my recent exposures to the real
nature of debate in general, and debaters in particular: we are in a
system that's indeed a microcosm of philippine politics (yikes, tama
ka *****s). and if people have accepted philippine politics as it is,
not bothering to really do anything about it, because, well,
ano pa bang magagawa mo? i think while were still young, and the
system (in debate, at least) is still malleable and open to change
and you've got rational, open-minded people who are all capable of
fair discourse... we should act on changes that will minimize problems
...why the hell not?

anyway, it's a struggle enough to choose between who i am and that
person people prefer i was. hopefully, the day will NEVER come when
i have chosen to stay quiet because speaking up is just too risky,
inconvenient, too much of a hassle and in some instances, possibly
life-threatening? hehe. Well, i'm not there (yet), at least.

good luck to me and my endeavors in life. haha

gotta luv berto

2009-04-04T06:42:00.000-07:00

This piece of genius right here, is a product of berto's unfailingly
brilliant and amazingly convoluted mind. Miss the big guy...
Deathstone 4ever! Solid! haha

berto's commencement speech
Sunday, March 22, 2009 at 9:11am

Ladies and gentlemen, distinguished guests, members of the faculty,
friends, gays, early birds and early worms, hot iron strikers, extra
rice eaters, emo's, pingpong experts, disco dancers, mongoloids,
political crocodiles, sex offenders, underwater sea creature haters,
DOJ secretary Raul M. Gonzalez look-a-alikes, Madame President,
Ombudsman Merceditas Gutierrez, Celso delos Angeles solid fans club,
secret lovers, filthy-lie-zer scummers, the bloods and the crips,
Israeli prime minister Benjamin Netanyahu, raki the janitor,
purefoods basketball team, wowowee, bullies, teachers pets,
Mrs. Bacalso my teacher in grade4, parents, neighbors, dirty old men,
dirty old women, violators of RA 6969 or also known as " Toxic
Substances and Hazardous and Nuclear Wastes Control Act of 1990",
corporate shitheads, Visiting Fuckers Agreement soldiers,
Bourgeoisie bastards, advocates of facism, warlords, rugby boys,
the Board of Trustees, members of the office of the Solicitor
General, Graduates of '09 and street childrens...Good Day, the
commencement speech has ended go forth and become impure.

... ha?

2009-04-04T06:28:00.000-07:00

i know this generic error message wasn't an inquiry on
my species of origin...
but i felt my humanity questioned anyway.

lol. :P

of errant hearts and broken promises...

2009-04-02T12:03:00.000-07:00

babe...

cant believe im writing you an actual letter. i mean, in this day
and age :P but, i've always been better at explaining myself in
print when it comes to things like this...

babe... im sorry. i wish i was more mature. you'd think id be
better at handling these things. but im probably still as
emotionally erratic and volatile as i was when we first knew
each other. im sorry if i hurt you... i should be the last
person to do that. i guess... it was kind of a mutual
thing... the eventuality of a break-up. but it shouldn't
have happened like that. i shouldn't have let it happen
like that...

and im sorry to leave you hanging in the air... i mean,
i know u need someone the most now. i officially suck at
relationships, seeing as how i've botched one with you,
what with the history and EVERYTHING that we share...

but babe... im not losing you over this, am I? were not
gonna be random strangers on the street who will say
awkward greetings because they sort of knew each other?
cause that's the worst thing that could ever happen
to us... i still need you in my life. i don't think ill
ever NOT want you in my life. ever. you know that right?

if makadayon ko anha, we'll spend time with each other...
ill hug you and then hang out and talk like adults. or at
least pretend to be adults. it doesn't have to be anything
specific... i'm not gonna interrogate you or anything...
promise. just need to have some of the old US back.
i know you don't like it when i say that. but you know what
i mean when i say i miss us...

i miss you... :(

i'm sorry if i hurt you...

love tikaw,

mara

ps don't go finding a new girl just yet. you know ill be all emo
and be jealous as hell... wait for me to get there...

for Inday (Wedding stuff)

2009-04-01T23:33:00.000-07:00

So, i assumed Inday wants a beach wedding and scoured the net for whatever I found useful and posted 'em here for Inday and the bum's approval and perusal.

I thought it was cute... :P

this is really kewl... we could do this for Inday's walk down the aisle

mmmm... what do you guys think? ok man sya...

oh cool centerpiece... I can imagine Jello customizing this. hehe. And the materials are basic enough...

me hearts this cake! :p

This next bit is a repost from www.mybeachweddinginmauritius.blogspot.com

And its about flowers and their meanings, might be helpful, unless you've chosen flowers na :P

Roses:
No other flowers symbolize love better than roses. Roses are available all year round and come in a great variety of colors to match any wedding theme. Among the most popular colors are white, red, yellow, pink, orange, lavender, and hot pink.

Alstroemeria:
These beautiful "south of the border" flowers are native to South America, specifically to Chile and Brazil. They primarily bloom in the spring and summer and can be found in sunny yellow, milky white and rich red colors.

Asters:
These gorgeous flowers, whose heads are shaped like stars, are perfect for late summer and fall weddings as they bloom abundantly during these months. Asters are similar in appearance to daisies and are available in white, purple, lavender, pink and red.

Bells of Ireland:
These unusual green flowers are a favorite for summer weddings. Mix bells of Ireland together with hypericum berries for a one of a kind festive centerpiece.Birds of

Paradise:
True to their name, birds of paradise give an impression of exotic birds. Known as an ornamental flower, this exquisite combination of a tall green stalk, bright orange sepals and purplish-blue petals stands beautifully on its own. It is a perfect flower to use for weddings with tropical themes.

Calla Lilies:
Calla Lilies come in classic, pure white as well as occasionally in two-toned shades such as white with pink, butter with cream, or yellow with gold. They are time-honored wedding flowers and are available for enjoyment all year round.

Chrysanthemum (aka Pompons):
As their name suggests, these festive flowers look like a flowering pompon. A fun and cheerful flower, pompons are celebrated annually at the Japanese "Festival of Happiness." Pompons are available in a variety of colors and are perfect for contributing to the happiness of weddings all year round.

Hypericum Berries:
These unique, full flowers, similar to berries, are available in wonderful earthy tones such as green, brownish red, yellow, pink, and red. Hypericum berries are most widely available in the summer.

Hydrangeas:
These blooming flowers look beautiful on their own or mixed with other flowers. They come in white, blue, natural pink and purple tinted. Hydrangeas are great for spring and summer weddings.

Larkspur:
These tall white, blue, and pink flowers burst into bloom in the springtime which makes them ideal for an April or May wedding (though they can be used throughout the spring and summer as well).

Liatris:
Tall and ornamental, these flowers are a popular choice for summer wedding centerpieces and bouquets. As an added effect to a romantic event, their rich purple color attracts beautiful butterflies.

Lilies:
Lilies are large flowers with three petals that come with three petal-like sepals. They are most commonly available in the summer. Lilies come in a range of color such as white, yellow, orange, pink, red, purple, bronze and even nearly black. Their petals are often marked with spots, brush strokes and picotees. Not only are lilies a lovely flower to use at your important affair, but they give off a fragrant aroma and create a rich and sweet ambiance.Mini Callas:
Mini callas are elegant flowers, perfect for bouquets and centerpieces. They are available throughout the year and come in a variety of colors such as white/cream, yellow, orange, pink and mauve. Weather conditions also play a part in their pigmentation and you can often find slight variations in colors of mini callas.

Statice:
While most commonly found in shades of pinks and violet or purple, statice is also available in blue, yellow, white, red, orange and apricot. It is most frequently used to enhance summer and early fall weddings.Snapdragons:
With their beautiful petals, these tall Mediterranean flowers are reminiscent of an exotic paradise. Snapdragons are widely available in the summer in a crisp white color. They are also available in other colors, including shades of pink or yellow.

the reckoning

2009-03-15T06:48:00.001-07:00

this is going to be it: our hour of reckoning. we're going against ateneo de manila and we need all the help and support we can get... this is THE giant we need to slay.
please watch squareoff, 8:00 pm at ANC, march 25.

i think i'm evil

2009-03-12T18:53:00.000-07:00

(and i really need people to disagree)

ever since i read the twilight series (okay the correct phrasal
verb would be "hooked up") i think i got possessed by edward cullen
(in my world, fictional characters are capable of possessing
non-fictional characters. feel free to visit anytime). no, i don't
mean i've convinced myself i'm a vampire, but that i've been
obsessed with reading minds. sometimes other people's,
but mostly my own (since i'm only slightly delusional,
i AM aware that i'm NOT really a mind-reader).

so in the process of dissecting my quasi-deep thoughts, which upon
introspection are mostly (if not all) about how the world relates to
me (we-hell, no surprise there). i have become convinced (and this
most likely ISN'T a delusion) that i am in fact, EVIL.

see, edward does this thing when he assesses if a person is evil
based on the quality of his/her thoughts, and says stuff like,
"his/her mind is one of the purest i've read.." and so, that's
led me to be consciously aware of all my reflex thoughts and
it's made me conclude that I'm almost (if not entirely) incapable
of pure thoughts.

don't agree? well, here's some of those impure reflex thoughts:

stimulus: a beggar asking for money
thought: wonder what's gonna spend it for? yosi or rugby? hopefully food... nah. malamang yosi.

stimulus: some guy (with passable looks) who happens to be within striking proximity
thought: always about how he looks half-naked and how he would be as a kisser(honest!) and if he's really hot, my thoughts would turn greener... (this is why my ex tells me i think like a guy :( )

stimulus: **** being nice; going out of his way to help me
thought: wonder what he thinks he's gonna get from doing this

stimulus: some girl with a good-looking guy
thought: baka bobo yung guy or hey, i'm better looking that than that.. the world does not make sense

stimulus: student with a blank-eyed stare
thought: bakit ka kaya pumasa ng high school to, or, pano to pumasa sa entrance exam?

stimulus: girl sa jeep na pa-tingin-tingin...
thought: what? whaaaat?! ano problema mo ha?

stimulus: shady-looking driver
thought: owkay... he looks highly questionable. why did i sit in the front seat again? dammit...

stimulus: some girl commenting on my bf's facebook page
thought: she's into him and i'm getting pissed off... why is he friends with her? (i don't act on this naman)

stimulus: guard sa jollibee
thought: your job has got to be the most boring job everrr...

stimulus: hot guy who's a good dresser
thought: he's gay

stimulus: hot guys in a group going out for drinks
thought: they're gay

stimulus: atom a. asking for scottie's number
thought: he's gay (in fairness to me though, i don't think there's anyone who wouldn't think this. haha)

stimulus: hot guy on the jeep who doesn't look my way once
thought: definitely gay

see? i'm evil, i tell you.... eveeeeeeeeeeeeel!!!
(did i just say evel?)

three stars and a sun

2009-03-09T06:41:00.000-07:00

The last time I cried this much for the loss of someone
to whom my affinity I could only vicariously pursue,
was when Raul Roco died. And now, another legend has passed on.
Leaving trails of immortality. Francis Magalona was one hell
of a role model for this generation.
He left too soon...
but his words and his songs and his thoughts and his
undying love for this country will echo on and on...

I still hear the voices of Elvis Presley, John Lennon, Tupac Shakur, Kurt Cobain, The Notorious B.I.G. and Frank Sinatra to name a few. And their voices rise from their graves.

I am lucky to have been a recording artist and one day when I leave this world, just like the names I mentioned, my voice will be heard. Always. At a touch of a button or switch, I am "alive" again.

In essence music is life. Music is immortality.
- Francis M. (www.happybattle.multiply.com)

back from mars

2009-03-09T05:23:00.000-07:00

I've been on the habit of blinking out lately. Can't find a place too
far from reality though. Not that I should be running from it...
Just getting too comfortable here and I need to get perspective...
I've been bitching for the last, what? 45? blog posts that I'm on my
own version of limbo here in Iligan, and that occasionally, it also
resembles my personal purgatory.
Lately, I've come to terms with my being here but it still feels like
I'm on the verge of living... not really living just yet.
I've gotten about 3 hours worth of national media exposure for last
couple of months and I'm all yipee about it, but then what? I can't stay
here and debate for the rest of my life. I've found another bunch of
crazy weirdos all of whom I find supremely non-boring and all of whom
I'm getting too attached too...
But the bigger world is calling to me...
I can't settle to be comfy in Iligan, can I?

memento mori

2009-02-05T08:26:00.000-08:00

i have never seen someone die... until a couple of hours ago.

what struck me was the details. that weird hospital smell that reeks
of anti-septic and something else... sadness? maybe because the
stale air's been infused with years' worth of loss, muffled grief,
pain and possibly desperation. i imagine all of these seeping into
the corners, turning into permanent invisible stains on the walls
and leaving a permeating stench: imperceptible but undeniable.

then there's this indifference to death. i'm sure it's probably an
everyday thing for those who work in the hospitals. dealing with
anonymous deaths and losses with efficiency and professional
detachment is just part of the job (for the sake of their
sanity, i imagine). but still, this casual, off-hand treatment
of death: the calm pronoucement of death, the brisk removal of
the body from the ICU... it's disturbing, almost callous.

i realized i never want to be that numb.

and then there's the waiting. a death in the hospital is never
instantaneous. it is always preceded by a long agonizing wait...
filled with a thick uneasy silence, punctured by hollow, scattered
attempts at conversations about the inane, the trivial; pitiful,
futile efforts to distract mostly yourself from the harsh, glaring
truth: someone is going to die. someone is dying right this very
moment. and we're huddled here together for this morbid countdown.

i stood there in the ICU. shedding tears because it is impossible
not to feel even an iota of this impending loss. it is impossible
to ignore those heartbreaking goodbyes, those irrational pleadings
whispered in desperation to ears that have been rendered deaf by
coma. it is impossible to not grieve for a friend who has just
lost a mother...

people often feel clumsy in handling other people's grief.
i am no exception. i offered a tight awkward hug when the waiting
ended and the inevitable end began. i struggled with the depth of
the grief i saw in her eyes.

in the end, i realized that there are some journeys we must take
alone. there some pains we simply cannot share. there are hurts
we cannot salve...

i realized that death comes in many forms.

stick figures

2009-01-25T19:39:00.000-08:00

i love the unpretentious and straight to the point (often, straight
to the heart)message of these simple scrawls.

this one in particular:

and the quote about it that i got from this site:

Surely there exists someone out there who is wandering through this world with the same hopes and uncertainties as me.
Surely they’ve spent hours playing out those same little
scenarios only to find that they were short one stick figure as well.

Let’s run away and find a nice dark corner in which to do long division.

emo relapse alert

2009-01-25T19:08:00.000-08:00

lately, my line of vision has been littered with broken hearts.

i am troubled.

not just because the sight of emotionally bleeding people pains me,
but mostly because it forces me to assess my own heart and
unfortunately, the distractions are no long distracting enough to
keep me from treading that supposedly forgotten path...
(of course it's about ME. duh.)

sigh. (yes, i am indulging my melodramatic tendencies again...
run, while you can.)

there's ara, my in denial debater who walks around pretending to be
fine and dandy but constantly indulging in huge doses of masochism
(i.e. frequently texting with the ex, checking the sweet captured
moments of the new pair in friendster)

there's aiken, who's chosen to make his heartbreaker anonymous in
the numerous chronicles of his year-long pain and is now apologizing
for his choice to go find (hopefully heal) himself.

there's the other bums struggling with their own precarious love
stories, wondering if it's all worth it...

and then there's me. i think my romantic pulse is normal,
nowhere near heartbreak (i think) but maybe... this is all just
wishful thinking. i think truthfully, nothing seems to be wrong
because the relationship is almost non-existent. if technically
there's nothing there, how can there be hurt?

but really, i am quite aware that THIS is as bad as BAD
in relationships go...

sigh.

are we all doomed to pain?

(emo relapse alert! hehe)

one night, i got bored...

2009-01-11T22:14:00.000-08:00

yes na lang gud...

we're all grown up now...

2009-01-11T06:09:00.001-08:00

yet still the same in many ways. here are some of the omegan freaks
at the IDS post-party session at batC:

sharing some stupid joke...

love for RH: sign of a true omegan. haha

it's like high school all over again, cept for the alcohol, hehe.
we were boring then

arlie, leah and macky

and jofre in white

reunions

2009-01-10T08:47:00.000-08:00

It was one of those things that didn’t die. No matter how long you burrowed them, deep, in the corners of your brain you don’t often visit. Once in a while, out of the blue, they pop out, escapee thoughts you thought you’ve sentenced for good. And when they came out it’s as if you never struggled to repress them, forget them, rendered them hopeless, lost causes, battles you’ve long decided too futile to fight for… or too afraid to fight for, either way, they've been labeled “lost causes”, those unattainable things that you were never meant to have…

Why do they have to sneak up on you like this? A smile, a memory awakened and you’re drowning in the pool again, lost in the flood of those forbidden fantasies washing over you as if the last couple of years never happened.

Sigh.

It wasn’t really grief so much as a reawakened and intensified longing and hope… the last things you needed, of course. Not when you’d been reinventing yourself for so long, immersed yourself in all these experiences to surface anew.

Pretense is the bane of the hopeless. They realize the hard way that it was all for naught. Inevitably, they will find themselves in the same damning path of long ago… lost in his smile, his voice… wishing, hoping, pining… all over again.

Damn reunions.

new year sentiment

2008-12-31T23:42:00.000-08:00

mich said:
I think both Valentines Day and the Christmas season are the only two
occasions when you take a look at your life and wonder if you're happy.

i TO-tally agree... but then again, i never need an excuse to go senti
and muse why happiness escapes me.

the weird thing is i know why i'm not happy.
(kindly ignore the inconsistency)
i realize i'm actually scared of being happy. cause if i'm happy...

then what?

seriously, constant bliss is boring. call the perspective what you want
- but it's true.

and yes, ally mcbeal said that too.

i sooo miss that series...

so for the non-warped sane individuals who don't shun happiness...
HAPPY YEAR OF THE OX!!! hehe:P

a bum is engaged

2008-12-17T01:36:00.000-08:00

OMG. inday is getting married.
and i am grappling with mixed emotions.
happiness, nostalgia, pensive melancholy
and a rather misplaced sense of maternal
protectiveness...

well, i was always telling inday off when
it comes to guys... it has always been kind
of her weakness (hehe. sowi day)

i feel a little helpless owing to the fact na
wala pa nako na kilatis ang keru, and suddenly
finding out that they have plotted down marriage
as a definite possibility come april.

i am still happy nonetheless. bums will always be
happy for other bums when heaven grants them a
delicious someone to love, to hold and to cherish.

this better be the real thing, though.
(love you day!!! i expect to be informed of all
the details, or else. haha)

warped compliment

2008-12-17T01:02:00.000-08:00

here's a warped compliment, i offered him. i think you're
smarter than me. cause if you weren't,
i'd be bored by now.

but honestly, we're both feeling a little lukewarm.
i think we hyped up this thing too much. now we're suffering
from the aftermath of "great expectations".
but then again, i am a pathological optimist when it comes
to relationships. there hasn't been anything we can't talk
through so far... i think.

most days though, i miss my best friend more than my boyfriend,
even if they are one and the same.

does it really have to be either-or?

stUck

2008-12-08T01:46:00.000-08:00

alarming
minutes burn into seconds
in a blink
the winding road is long
always i am pressed for time
as if through a sift,
time flows through my hands like water
The hands on my watch
Whir themselves to a blur
As everyone rush past
But I am left on a standstill
everyone, it seems
has somewhere else
to go
to be
but here
i am on a standstill
life passing me by

disclaimer: this is NOT a relapse to my emo stage,
never mind the defensiveness. hehe. this
is simply a manifestation of my impatience
to get the hell out of iligan already, which
is still like, 8 months from now. more or less.

IIT beats UST at ANC Square-off (yeah, UST that's how to debate)

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

i know it's self-serving, but what the hey, WE KICKED UST's BUTT (!!!)
at ANC Square-off, and we damn well have all the right to lord it over people!
Until the next round at least. hehe
I feel justifiably avenged after losing a round to them at the Nationals...
it was sweet to finally wipe those condescending grins off their faces
(sour-grapy much?... uh. is that even a word? hehe)
burn UST, BUURRRNNN!!!
okay. so much for the destructive language.
here are pictures from TEAM IIT's latest victory.
GO MSU-IIT DEBATE VARSITY!!! YAROKZTA!!!

status check

2008-11-04T02:48:00.000-08:00

work
i still hate being a teacher
i am loving debate though, and it makes up for the boringness of it all

life
friends:
uhmmm... i only hang out with my debaters and my co-coaches now which is okay but we all suffer from debate overload so it still gets kinda boring.
school:
i just found out that i still have a year again, A WHOLE FRIGGIN' YEAR PEOPLE!!! before we finish my masters and i am severely depressed over this.
vices:
i drink and smoke a LOT less now, but this is a default set-up. hehe

love:
he ruined all my earlier relationships for me.
he knows it and is not sorry for it.
apparently i ruined some relationships for him too.
not intentionally on both our cases...
we had just been subconsciously measuring our exes on each other.
isn't that sweeeeeeeet? possibly warped, but toe-curling sweeeeet nonetheless.
hehehe.
... still scared shitless though. baby steps, baby steps...

borrowed words

2008-10-18T10:30:00.000-07:00

bear with me if everyday,
i spout cliches.
you leave me
speechless,
breathless,
and in want of sparkling words.
i love you
i need you
i miss you
... what can i possibly say
that has not been said before?

this cliche
i am in
of two best friends
who decide to end friendship
for the promise of love;
seems so uncharacteristically novel,
that i wonder,
how it ever bore the label
of a generic phenomenon.

for in truth
there is nothing generic
or expected
or common
about you
or about us...
ours is a completely spontaneous spark
ungoverned by any template
they've preset for us

so forgive me
if i offer
none but borrowed words
you see speech only aides to express
what hearts already know

clumsy heart

2008-10-16T11:14:00.000-07:00

for a clumsy someone from a clumsier one:

one of my debaters, shrieking (being so consistently gay),
made me read this poem which led to me shrieking as well. it's
one of those weird things when you come across a certain piece of
prose (or poetry in this case) and you feel like a completely
anynomous someone had written something especially for you --
kind of 'killing me softly' na poem version.

fine, i might just be indulging in melodramatic tendencies, but
whatever. i am posting this because i positiviely swooned
over these lines (then hopped around giddily wih philip. haha.)

Love poem

my clumsiest dear, whose hands shipwreck vases
who quick touch all glasses chip and ring
whose palms are bulls in china, burs in linen
and have no cunning in any soft thing

except ill-at-ease fidgeting people
the refugee uncertain at the door
you make at home; deftly you steady
the drunk clambering on his undulant floor

unpredictable dear, the taxi driver's terror
shrinking from far headlights pale as a dime
yet leaping before red aploplectic streetcars
misfit in any space. and never on time

a wrench in clocks and the solar system. only
with words and people and love you move at ease
in traffic of wit expertly manuever
and keep us, all devotion, at your knees

forgetting your coffee spreading at your flannel
your lipstick grinning on your coat
so gayly in love's unbreakable heaven
our souls in glory of spilt bourbon float

be with me, my darling, early and late
smash glasses-
i'll study wry music for your sake
for should your hands drop wry and empty
all the toys in the world would break

... i love you, clumsiness and all. and
although this poem is truer for me than for you,
loving you, i will never be clumsy at ...

best lovers banter ever (War Inc.)

2008-10-08T03:55:00.000-07:00

Yes, hilary duff is on the movie. and no, she doesn't die. (i know, what's up with that???) but anyway, we can disregard her pathetic attempts at what her limited mind conceives as 'acting' because of these lines:

Natalie Hegalhuzen (Marisa Tomei): So you want to seduce the journalist whose politics you despise?
Brand Hauser (John Cusack) : How dare you. I have no politics.

i love john cusack in this movie!!!

Natalie Hegalhuzen: You know that all my writings have called this occupation a violation of international law and its practitioners are criminals?
Brand Hauser: Do you really believe all this stuff you write?
Natalie Hegalhuzen: Anyone who can causes this much mayhem when they didn't have to? The amount of suffering that I've seen?
Brand Hauser: I know.
Brand Hauser: [speaking on the phone] Ok. Hold on a sec.
[speaking to Natalie again]
Brand Hauser: But the way I look at it is this: the day we can actually feel and hear all the suffering of mankind, that's the day when "The Christ" will come back! So we got that going for us.
[speaking on the phone again]
Brand Hauser: I'll be out in a minute.
[speaking to Natalie again]
Brand Hauser: Or 'The Buddha', or Allah, whoever floats your boat.

And now, for the best line everrrr...

Brand Hauser: Did you know that the word "person" comes from the Latin word "persona", which means mask? So maybe being human means we invite spectators to ponder what lies behind. Each of us will be composed of a variety of masks, and if we can see behind the mask, we would get a burst of clarity. And if that flame was bright enough, that's when we fall in love. What's your opinion on these divine matters?
Natalie Hegalhuzen: I'm not going to fuck you. You know that, right?

(bwahahahaha! raawrrr... )

xander's 'sunny days at dumsville'

2008-10-07T10:03:00.000-07:00

i just had to repost this from drifter's haven:

everytime im out with the new breed of hardcore drunkards in dumaguete i always share to them the days when i was with a group of superhardcoredrunkards who call themselves brilliant bums. i'm not proud of the way they drink beer like it's fresh buko juice, but im proud of the way they handle themselves when they get drunk. ow. wait. forget bout that. im proud bout the way they handle their studies despite their hectic schedules. to wake up early in the morning to attend class and stay up late and get drunk is not an easy thing to do but it seems that they perfected the kung-fu style routines. i miss them. its not the perfect group but its, by fact, a group filled with imperfect people who admits to themselves that they are not perfect but when theyre all together it seems that the world is just as perfect as they perceive it to be.
at first i thought they were just the typical college students who are just bored with their lives and are just hungry for companionship. you cant blame me for thinking that way coz every single day their faces are at el amigo, a place where a striving student can get a cheap beer and if one has coins to spare then one can get peanuts to further feed the hunger caused by boredom. they were there almost everyday- loud and wild. at times you can see them laughing their asses off with a language everbody calls the "gay linggo" which is a familiar phenomenon in dumaguete; and sometimes with an invented language- the "papipapipapi language" as what id like to call it- is as hard to decode as the "gay lingo". and their are times you can see them silently staring at each other, sometimes with tears falling from their tired eyes down to their beer which they drink without bothering with the new found taste. one must know that no matter what the mood was there's always a good conversation to expect. topics sprung up like weeds; and as senses are heightened (you know why!!!!) one must expect a heated conversation, a shocking confession or an argument between soon to be philosopher's of this tangled world.
it's funny how they can catch up with every word and laugh as if they were the only customers at el ams. that was my first impression of these wonderful personalities that crossed my path when i was hungry for real conversations. then i get to know each and everyone by heart. i started to understand their bond. its not just the beer but the things they share and the things they learn from each other's stories -its life at progress. everytime i talk to one of them,or the group itself, i get a new insight of life or the more dreadful word for it -REALITY. i learned that they were as weak as i am- prone to temptation and anger brought by god knows what. i also learned that they strive hard to be better-sometimes failing, most of the time just dealing and moving on which is a gud sign. some of us has the same storylines. movies with the same scripts but with different characters. i saw patterns from our stories. characters were made. plots was discovered. schemes decoded and solved for peace of mind. i'm not alone afterall, i said to myself.
everyday we meet to share stories,with the beer between us, and just savor the company. fast forward.... finals came and i was there when they cried coz they were afraid that they wont get their diplomaS and still they were drinking. i even found out that they were supposed to pass their final requirements the following day. i bid them goodluck. graduation came and there they were. cum laude..awards here and there...i was shocked. shocked coz i never thought they can get the top spot because of their drinking habits. there i was shocked and proud. this is so long of a blog. i will end this by saying thankYOU for each and everyone of you guys. you inspire me. thankYOU for the stories and for being real. i miss all of you.
Posted by xandersalamander at 9:36 AM
2 comments:

Aiken said...

hala oi... hehehe pagka story sa brilliant bums! shiet! mingaw na nuon ko napud. sigi ra kog gi mingaw napud napud napud!!!!!!
October 7, 2008 9:47 AM
an overdose of life said...

haaaaaaaaaaalaaaaaaa ooooooooooiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!!!! wala ko kasabot sakong na-feel, na-touch ko nga nalipay nga gimingaw nga unsa ba....
i miss everyone!!! :( thanks sands... ako i-repost ha? miss you :(
October 7, 2008 9:59 AM

to new beginnings

2008-10-01T08:57:00.000-07:00

i was fourteen and unspeakably naive. it was sophomore year in high school, i think i was in the middle of an identity crisis (totally unrelated to gender, by the way) and so i had spent every waking day trying to be good enough so that people will find me interesting -- find me worthy of their attention.

he was there and he engaged me and made me feel worthwhile. we talked about whether the bible should be taken literally which gradually evolved to chicken-egg discussions. our conversations, however inane, always left me grinning. i thought to myself, here's someone worth the time of day, and i thought so till graduation.

we gradually evolved. i fell in "love" with numerous guys and he fell deeply in love with margill... nothing and everything stayed the same. he slipped further away, and yet stayed near. he was convinced margill was the love of his life, and he was still the only the person i could sit for an hour with, saying nothing, and walk away feeling like it was the best conversation i had.

then college happened and we slipped further still. we emailed now and then, but we practically just blinked in and out, in a span of numerous months for a time -- a year even. for the last couple of years we stood at the sidelines of each other's lives. and yet when everything seemed to crash down on me and the most recent love of my life, left me alone to pick up the broken pieces... he was there and it was high school, all over again.

things change. but some things always stay the same. i'm glad that what i have with him is one of those things. because although i can handle change, i need at least one thing to remain true and unshakable...

as it is with him. all these years, he's always been there and i always found comfort in the fact that i had him. i tell people he's my bestfriend, but he's always been a lot more than that. i may not be able to contain what we have within any label, but we really don't need one.

i know exactly how much he means to me.

(and that's all i'm saying about it. i dont wanna preempt things, and ruin this before it even starts...:) i wanna keep him for myself. for now. hehe)

23 is the new 22

2008-09-29T08:04:00.000-07:00

it's my warped way of refusing to grow older.

hmmmmmmm... when did our birthdays start to become
reminders that we're running out of time, instead
of being granted more?
maybe it's a half-full, half-empty thing.
so now i'm a pessimist.
well, i guess i've always been chronically so.
or have at least pretended to be for the last 22 years.

but like i've told easter, i'm post-emo now. hehe

anyway, it's my birthday and i felt like i should do something.
so, here i am commemorating being a year closer to the deadline
with a blog post. (woah, that sounds so.... emo. hehehe)
honestly, it doesn't feel any different. i'd probably forget
if i don't always have my nose in friendster.
but there is something i want to write about....

you know how semisonic sang 'every new beginning starts from
some other beginning's end..'? well, 23 is my new beginning.
i know this is totally blaspheming the feminine cause
and my claim to be part of it, but well, it starts and ends with a guy.

what can i say, it's the perpetual story of my life.
actually, it's angel's tagline and mine:
in perpetual search of true love (or our idea of it).

so yes, there's a guy. and as much as i want to satisfy
your burning curiosity which is searing a hole in my chatbox,
i think splashing him all over this blog will jinx it so...
let's just say, it will be a happy birthday for me... :)

death

2008-09-21T04:31:00.000-07:00

death has been all around lately. like a bad smell, it follows me around. this smell, it sticks to my clothes and my fingertips so that it mixes with the smell of nicotine when I smoke. all those news of innumerable deaths, sporadic in frequency, but overwhelmingly frequent, nonetheless: the grim consequences of a tragedy in the high seas, and floods, and car crashes and murders in between.

closer to home, already, i've been to three funerals this year. all second-degree relatives, all deaths from a cocktail of everyday diseases, matured to a full ripe with complications.

i was there to witness their grief - and by 'them' i mean everyone else who wasn't me. it was much like what i saw in TV, only that the tears are not anonymous. and the smell is more pungent. i know these people, i grew up with them around: kissed their hands at family gatherings like the good niece i was, run to their biddings like the good niece i was, and now, after their deaths, i make sure to dutifully attend vigils, like the good niece i am.

but the good niece wasn't really here to grieve. i was here to be a spectator. i see the precarious threads from which my cousins' sanities are hung, but pushed to the sidelines, i sit silently enthralled in this strange circus of deaths.

this most recent death, i find myself racking my brains for memories of this aunt i grew up having around but i find i can hardly remember. conversations float around me: of what she was like, how she was the kindest person they knew. she was kind, true. she was human, more true. and i scarcely remember her and this i deeply regret as i avert my eyes every time they cross paths with those of my cousins.

those nightly vigils are filled with all these nameless faces, all vaguely familiar: faces morose when at an arm's length from the coffin, then suddenly shift to their everyday countennance - just another death. nothing to be all hyped up about.

i wonder if my face was like that.

on sept seven...

2008-09-07T07:32:00.000-07:00

two extremely blogworthy events for today:

first is angel's birthday. we happen to share the same birth month so when her birthday comes i feel a mixture of happiness and dread. happiness over the gift of another year for a good friend and myself, and dread over having to add yet another year on my age. (at least i'm still young enough to get away with being shallow. haha).

here's a testi i made for her at friendster:

for my most special girlfriend (and i mean that in a completely un-lesbian way) on her most special day:

damn, we've actually known each other for more than half a decade now (altho most tyms it seems lyk iv known u all my lyf--aww) and we've been thru a LOT. i know we promised to always be together on r birthdays (with aiken on those coco amigo days of long ago), but i guess even then, we've always known that we're bound to take different roads and live different lives. and yet, despite the fact that we hardly get to update each other on the ongoings of our lives now, i know we will always and forever share the things that matter. we will always have those twisted and epic-long discussions on life and love, we will always have those sudden fits of laughter over things we'd rather not tell people about, we'll always have those theme songs in commemoration of the angel-mara tandem and our misadventures...
cheers to making new memories to laugh and cry over
miss u mam. hapi birthday!

and...

ren did a report on national TV today!!!
woohooo!!! kudos to ren2!
the baby is now... a reporter!
hehehe. super gushing with pride...:)

spell freaky

2008-09-04T09:28:00.000-07:00

so just to make things more warped, i think my student (who is our age or slightly older, 2nd courser, with a job naman, justify, justify...) is courting me. (do people still use that word?)

well at least i think he likes me.

but this teacher-student thing (besides totally cramping my style) makes it beyond weird. although, i am honestly more amused and flattered at the thought than actually interested.

even so...

he's is kind of a cutie. hahaha

status check

2008-09-02T11:50:00.000-07:00

it's been almost four months since i decided that a broken heart simply took too much effort to heal.. therefore i will completely ignore it instead.

haven't done a status check since. just skirted around the issue, hardly probing, afraid to acknowledge that my hope of the hurt dissipating on its own is a delusion.

which it is.

all this time, i filled the void with worries about work, psuedo-intimacy from proxy male company. of course, one drunken night when i and my current "squeeze" (as jam would call it) ended up kissing, i broke down afterwards, as i knew i would.

always the idiot who emotionally invests over the most fleeting of connections.

this sordid affair of the 'love that was once was but is no more' has been a real pain in the ass for the past year. i wish i can have it done and over with.
but then, it doesn't work that way does it?

how does it work though?

as for the status check... mmm.. still too chicken. don't know what to do yet with what i might find out.
i did realize something though, while smoking and counting the bathroom tiles:
it was never my intention to be happy.
i mean, can you imagine how boring that would be? hehehe
(emoooooooooooooo!!!!)

Missing joey...

2008-08-29T09:18:00.000-07:00

so i saw this like 3-year old post that i had in my old blog and i got a little mushy. Joey is still my all-time favorite Dumaguete character after all (sorry guys:P). I mean, I made a friggin' documentary about him, complete with interviews with tama el amz boy kim, jude and teddy bear (the horror!). anyway, enuf with the intro...

so im on my 2nd beer, whining over my selfish troubles, and here comes joey: this incredible 12-year-old wise-ass hu sells peanuts at el ams and suddenly, for a few minutes, i am able to appreciate how wonderful my life is.
like once told a friend, i am totally smitten with the kid because he's one of the very few people whose always genuinely happy to see me... there's nothing like seeing him flash his toothy grin every time we each other at memento or el ams or sted's. he helps me stop being self-absorbed for a while and just feel content with chatting with him about his day and whatnot.
and man is the guy deep. not something ud expect from a fifth-grader hu looks about 8 (the result of a life of poverty and years of dprivation). he'd be telling me stuff id never expect from some1 so young... but then again, he's seen a lot more of life than i have so, in some ways, the kid is more mature than me.
i wish someday i cud do something for him coz he has no idea of how much he's done for me...
(October 4, 2005)

get a dose of emo-ness

2008-08-23T08:02:00.000-07:00

is it really a sign of maturity to realize that no one is coming to make you happy?

that no one else but ourselves can make us happy. that if we can't with be happy ourselves, why do we think we can be happy with other people?

what i find problematic with this is the assumption that people are actually capable of being happy alone. i cannot fathom that. my greatest fear is to be alone. and the idea of supposedly finding happiness in that does not remotely make sense to me.

yet, is that the point in life? to realize in the end that we came in alone therefore we leave alone and to think otherwise is some fantasy we created to numb the harsh lonely truth?

in a busy street, i look around into those streams of nameless faceless and think that i see the same eyes. those secretly terrified eyes that lurk behind the nonchalance, the pretense of not caring.

my eyes.

those that endlessly carry the fear that i AM alone. that the world is not my company but merely a sea of observers to my grief borne of my endless search for someone who's never going to come.

i used to think i was a hopeless romantic. and that my constant fantasies of meeting that one true love are the manifestations of being one. now i think they are simply the delusions of a person terrified of facing up to the truth that there is no one i am supposed to be waiting for.

i look around and i see people who have settled for whatever company the circumstances of their lives have granted them just to keep from sleeping in cold beds at night. they put with the shit, the countless idiosyncracies, the lack of actual warmth, the endless little gory details of forced cohabitation so they won't be alone. and those who chose to play solitaire sleep with their misery looking out to the world with my eyes only with more grief.

it scares the shit out of me to see myself in them.

i didn't know when i started to be so bleak. maybe the world had always been this bleak and i had just caught up. maybe im just an overly-pessimistic sick little kid.

maybe we ARE just pieces of meat in various stages of decay and my fears are all warpedly founded. or maybe im just paranoid.

maybe i should just go to sleep. i don't wanna prove myself right and find myslef living the nightmare i just wrote down. there's a sane part of me that says i should know better than to think that this all life has to offer.

at least i think that's the sane part of me.

i am featuring my phone because...

2008-08-21T10:22:00.000-07:00

1. easter featured hers
2. it's a Samsung
3. it's the same with Serena's in Gossip Girl!
(but then that's why i bought it. hehe)
4. figured you guys might not be able to actually
see it seeing as how my phones usually have a
surprisingly high mortality rate.
5. ... it's kewl.

and no, i am not naming it.
love you eas!

chaos in paradise

2008-08-19T09:14:00.000-07:00

i know i've been shunning my hometown for as long as most
of you have known me. but it's not because i feel inclined to be
detached from this city per se. it's more like that detachment
being a mere consequence of my parents being here, and the
implication of which is that having the same zip code with my
parents translates to a complete lack of freedom for me.

so yes, i love Dumaguete, but this does not mean i do NOT love Iligan. Because i do. i love dumaguete because i fancy that's where i found myself, but iligan is my hometown -it is a huge part of who
i am. so if no one can take me away
from dumaguete, no one can take
iligan out of me.

i used to be supremely irked when people
from luzon and visayas (but mostly
from luzon) ask questions like:

"So, how does it feel to grow up in conflict?"
- Conflict... uh... what conflict?
or
"O talaga, you're from Mindanao?! Pano ka napunta dito?"
- Well, una sumakay kami ng bangka, after 5 days, nasira yung
bangka so lumangoy kami... tas nung nakakita kami ng lupa,
nag-lakad kami ng nag-lakad hanggang makarating kami
ng Maynila.
or
"Pano ka natuto mag-Tagalog?"
- Ummm... actually, kasi yung yaya ko dati Tagalog.
Ayun, tinuruan nya ko.

I used to think they were all morons and then, i'd think about it
a little more and realize that i can't really blame them because the
only times Mindanao ever comes out on TV is when there's "conflict"
(damn. i hate that word, makes all this senseless violence sound so...
sanitized) so it's almost understandable how people seem
to have absolutely no idea what's going on in Mindanao...

Then this MOA brouhaha happens.

Yet again the entire country has it eyes on Mindanao, and yet again,
we are nothing more than a war-torn god-forsaken area somewhere
in the bottom of this country ruined by Gloria.

but i am not going to talk about the war going on here. everyone else
has got more than enough to say about that. this, i will say though,
this is not a war between the Muslims and the Christians. Neither
is it a war between the Military and the MILF. This war is about
people's ironically conflicting ideas on what "peace"is and how to
achieve it, and the differences beingfueled and the implications
exacerbated by a president who pretends to care about having
'peace' but is really only bent on forwarding her own evil agenda.
(but if you must know, that evil president of ours has put
everyone between a rock and a hard place. it's a 'damn if we do,
damn if we don't' scenario here, and were hard-pressed to come
up with anyviable resolution to this stupid, useless and senseless war.)

but like i said, i will NOT be talking about the war. because you know
what, Mindanao is NOT a war-torn, conflict-driven, god-forsaken little
green-shaded area in the Philippine map. Nor is Iligan just the next
MILF target and nothing more. i am completely frustrated at the
thought that the only thing the rest of the country will ever know
about my hometown is how it's going to look like after the MILF
leaves, and the Military finishes with their clearing operations.

that IS not what my hometown is all about. so in this post, i will give real answers to those 'stupid' questions i've been asked repeatedly:

Where is Iligan?
Right next to Cagayan de Oro
Oh yeah, Cagayan... umm.. valley?
Nope. Here's a friggin' map.

Do you have electricity there? (Someone
really did ask me this question, extremely ridiculous and way moronic as it sounds)
- Uhmmm... I'm not quite sure how
to put this... YES WE DO! Iligan happens
to be where Maria Cristina Falls is, which happens to provide hydroelectric energy to the whole of Mindanao.

So do you have monkeys there, like on the streets and stuff?
(My friend Mia was asked this, and this was her brilliant reply)
- It depends on how much Tanduay you've drunk.

Apart from the stupid stuff which i can't help but be sarcastic about,
THIS is what Iligan is about:

1. We are the city of waterfalls. We have like a gazillion waterfalls
(okay, more like 2o) and all of them are breathtaking.
2. We Iliganons are a proud lot, and are quick to defend our family
name and what we perceive is rightfully ours. I admit this trait
might not be mutually exclusive with all other Filipinos, but only
a true Iliganon can say 'lat ni nanay' when in defense of one's honor
and family name in the proper tone and with the correct measure
of force.
3. We are composed of Christians, Muslims, and Higa-onons and we
have been peacefully co-existing until this MOA thing came along.
Now we're all suddenly aware of our differences.

And since most of what you see and will be seeing about Iligan on TV
will be the nasty, ugly scenes, let me show Iligan in its full glory:
You see, when they said Mindanao is the land of promise, they were
not just being overly optimistic. We ARE the land of promise. If only
this government will give us the chance to fulfill it.

to the brilliant bums...

2008-08-18T08:51:00.000-07:00

In every brilliant bum's blog, it is inevitable that every so often, a post on dumaguete will come up. and maybe it's because founder's coming up, or cause inday's in town, or even that ren just had her fifteen seconds (?) of fame in TV patrol (or all of the above) that bums are talking about dumaguete again.

whatever it is, we never really need an excuse to talk about our city. apparently, as of late, it doesn't take much to induce people into talking mental walks down
nostalgia lane...

so because i have been doing those walks myself more frequently nowadays,
i thought to come up with a list of what makes dumaguete, OUR dumaguete.
some ideas taken from jello and aiken's posts, of course.

wednesday
to a bum, a wednesday is never just a wednesday. it's the day the defines the week. even the days that completes the week. for the bums, everything begins with a wednesday and ends with a wednesday. and of course, accordingly, many of our highlights have happened on a wednesday... (i can practically hear your thoughts whir for like 100km/second..hehe)and thus a post-break-up poem i wrote for a guy (who introduced this wednesday ritual to me) goes, 'you took all my wednesdays with you..." (only i can by cryptic and corny at the same time, haha).

hayahay
this in turn is the place that defined us as a group. apart from all the other places, wherein we've practically branded our presence on, hayahay was where we let go of inhibitions. where, according to jello, enchi seemed like the only reason to dance in the world. i swear, there is practically absolutely nothing else that feels like what it feels when you're on the dance floor, swaying to reggae, red horse on one hand, marlboro on the other, with the sweet smell of the tangy sea mixed with the aroma of chez andre's mind-blowing pizza around you. man, i feel like i can practically smell hayahay...

el amigo
i agree with jello. it's all about ricardo. there in no el amigo for the bums without rick. we love him because he indulges all our weird eccentricities or eccentric weirdness (either way, we're weird and eccentric). he plays our favorite music even if it might potentially aggravate other customers. he gives us ice and water and tissue even if we don't ask for anything else other than ice, water or tissue. (haha) and when we get too drunk to remember to pay, he simply reminds us the next day.
damn, i miss ricardo... i miss el amigo! (oooh, it rhymes!)

steds
when i say we were a friggin' institution when it comes to sted's loyalty, i mean that in a literal sense. oh, the crazy shit that comes with the words 'sted's core'. sexy dancing? oh i know. i shall speak no more...
(why do i keep rhyming?!)

the weekly sillimanian
we weren't just about the bumming around, we were mainly about our orgs too. but then again, the weekly isn't just an org. it was waaaay more than a paper. the weekly sillimanian wasn't even just a demanding, time-consuming, sometimes overwhelming extracurricular... it was a whole damn lifestyle. we worked, slept and ate at that office. and did a lot of other stuff as well. tee-hee.
oh... a whole post can never give justice to what weekly was, so i'll stop trying. suffice to say that bums have a pandora's box of memories in their heads labeled, 'the weekly sillimanian.' 'nuf said.

eatery by the tree
it was mainly aiken's discovery which of course was eventually adopted by everyone else. nanay (as in louella's mom) and her to-die-for porkchops with ginamus and spicy kinilaw was my definition of a 'good meal' then. (well, maybe it still is). but we love nanay not just because of the food, but the fact that you get suffused with warmth and parental love when you get within a meter radius of her. she was always "oh, i'm so proud of all you," and "you guys are sooo great". she was the best proxy mom i had in dumaguete.

cafe memento
at this point, i feel like fighting tears. seriously, this is starting to get painful. but then again, it might result to a brilliant bums reunion as well, so it'll be worth it. hehe. in my mind i can still see us gathered around memento's wooden tables, seated on its wrought-iron chairs, filling the air in between us with marlboro exhaust and brilliant bum chatter.

and then there's joey, and payag, and countrygents (waah! countrygents!) and berto, and wanbol and escaño, even AM-PM, oh the list could go on and on....

you guys have no idea how painful it was to walk around dumaguete alone. everyone's right, dumaguete isn't dumaguete without the brilliant bums.
and seeing all those changes... damn, it's like we never were, i tell you. it's heart-breaking... :(

that portal building monstrosity, the fact that i actually don't know the people who now go to hayahay, the fact that el ams looks different now, or worst the fact that when i say, 'kita tag steds', i have to clarify WHICH steds... can you imagine?

sigh.

that sigh carried a world of meaning and the fact that only bums can comprehend the extent of its significance leaves me sadder and happier at the same time.

ok. sakto na! OA na ang show. basta, gimingaw ko ninyomg mga pisteha mo!:(

August 19, 2008 12:11 AM

thoughts of the self-obsessed

2008-08-18T07:42:00.000-07:00

i think that everyone is secretly documenting the inane ongoings of my life.

i think that as i walk in school everyone
steals glances, then exchange murmurs on
whatever they needed to comment about me.

i think that everytime i'm in a jeepney, everybody tries hard not to stare but i catch them at times and its interesting how they get unnerved by this.

i think that when pieces of conversations reach my ears as i sit quietly somewhere, enjoying a stick or two, it always involves a mention of me.

fancy that.

somewhere inside this narcissistic shell of self-absorption is the capacity to realize this might all just be an illusion.

i think that i think that i am aware that all this is a rather severe and even somewhat demented illusion...

i continue to feed it anyway.

this responsibility thing

2008-08-05T06:45:00.000-07:00

for the last 22 (i wanna savor the last month i am able to say this) years i have been a lot of things - an enumeration of which would make this post way more convoluted than it actually is.

but there's one thing i haven't been: a big sister.

when i got home tonight and took out something in my bag, i caused my pack of ciggies to accidentally fall out and i looked up to see the utter disappointment in my sister's face and as always when i get this look, i felt 2-inches tall.

see, i had promised my family i'd quit after my operation and i sincerely tried. but obviously, miserably failed as well.

no news there. i am the worst model of behavior there is. and as if constantly struggling to obey my parents is not hard enough, all my mistakes also resonate to my sisters. i've got three people looking up to me on what to do and what not to. in every thing i do, it's always at the back of my mind to worry if they might do it too: my dysfunctions are almost theirs to inherit, which is why i have to be in a different zip code.

well, in my own warped way, i AM serving as an example, i am showing them what NOT to do.
so far, it's working. my sisters are waaaaaaaaaaaay more mature, more responsible and on whole, less dysfunctional than me, if at all. and no one is prouder of that than i am. even if, i am completely aware that i have nothing to do with this.

or i might. either way, i cannot take credit.

and i have accepted this.

but on some days, i wish i could be a big sister to them, to have more than just the age gap as a reason for them calling me 'ate'.

yet as always, when the choice is between who i am and who i should be (the two never being one and the same), i am loath to pick the latter.

some big sister i am.

what stupid thing i did today

2008-07-29T08:09:00.000-07:00

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

I'M ON THE NEWS IN THE US!!!!! WTF??!!!

2008-07-24T05:18:00.000-07:00

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

2008-07-20T05:01:00.000-07:00

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...

pinoy debate gods

2008-07-19T09:54:00.000-07:00

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

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

2008-07-15T09:07:00.000-07:00

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

2008-07-15T07:51:00.000-07:00

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.

What Spice Are You?

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

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

What's your Hawaiian Name?

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

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.

Are You A Weirdo?

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

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

What Color Is Your Aura?

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

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!

Are You Destined For World Domination?

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

2008-07-07T08:30:00.000-07:00

(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.)

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

2008-07-03T07:20:00.001-07:00

(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.

when your brain cells fail, repost!

2008-07-01T10:06:00.000-07:00

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.

omg. can i be more gay?

2008-06-30T06:24:00.000-07:00

So aiken was saying in his blog that a post i did two years ago at the brilliant bumz' page at friendster sent him down on memory lane. i figured i should repost it for all time's sake. (i can't believe i was THIS gay. but then again, we all were. haha.)

Brilliant bums: the characters in the fairy tale of my life..

(MAy 03, 2006, lifted from friendster)

Uy watch out, akoa ang una nga entry... Perfect. Oo oy :P

As you all very well know, nandito po ang lola ninyo ngayon sa manila bilang isang sex worker (dapat kaming duha adtong bayot boang aka jello) dala ng hirap ng buhay... Nakakasuka, pero kinailiangang lng talagang kumapit sa patalim...

Yaaaaaak. Buyag. hehe. Pero, siyempre, tagalog. Oo. Watch out, g-sunggo nas manang. hehe. Na-sobrahan rkog lantaw og gulong ng cherva. Ewwwie. :P

Anyway, bet lang nakong mag-update sakong lyf kay kung wala mo nalimot, mga huboga mo, ng-promise ta sa siliman beach (in the absence of the lesser beings nga wala ni-adto due to pa-luvae sessions and other inexcusable reasons na im sure lema ra, gapa-lobot ra jud) dapat mg-update ta sa atong mga mugna kay puro na lang niya echus and keru ang inyong mga huna2 (wla koy labot kay alawae man kyokoms sexlyf iredech. hoy tru. tawon, lay marcus direh) and basin maglaho na parang liquid protein na gitulon ni jaycee ang atong friendship! Bayooot! Judi.

So, let me proceed sa akong update. Daghan pa man gud kaung eching. Anyway, it's a myth! Gamay ang suweldo sa call centers iridey. I repeat! yamagish. Hehe. Azen, 13t (minus tax pana na 1500, and sss na 1000. the horror!) and mao na ang rate sa ppolsupport, convergys and etel. nag-vary lang og 500 or so. Imagine! me naman, mag-work na kunuhay karong may 15 sa ppolsuport. Why people support, u ask? Because I can. And because, mas tsada ilang building sa convergys and wala ang etel sa makati. ka-cheapan. hehe. Babaw, pero kebs!!! Mao ray sueldo yot. Pero, actually, the real reason is didto ko first ni-apply and since pareho lang ang sweldo, alawae diff, daba? Besyds, ppol say cla pinaka-tsada mo-alaga og employee... :) Bow.

And now for ur individual messages:

Angel: Im so happy for u and sean!!! Kanaog pod sa nyong bukid usahay and apas direh!!! Malooy ka!

Paul: Yot, direh work. Asa man ka ron? I miss you!!!

Jello: Hoy bayota ka, i-email kuno na imong plano sa kinabuhi kay mag-dungan tag apply sa supreme court

JC: BAyooot! Hehe.. Luv u jace! NA-imbento ng txt sa inyoha? Sa tambo, uso lagi

Bom: Luv u bom! G-work naka ron? Salamat kau samong pag-pasuya nko last wed. KAbalos niya ko

Sheena: Day!!! Tawon day! Ang layo mo na! P-ramdam ginagmay mam! MIss you so much!

Inday: Musta cebu day???? Regards ko bhadot! MAdayon ka law jud? Wer man? Apas na lng direh!!!! Miss you!

rEN: rEEN-REEN! i MISS YOU!:( Musta namo ni aling siquijor?

Easter: Hoy, kaw bayhana ka, yugno japn ng gna-yama nimoh sa? Tagpila man na be, kay akong palliton pra nimoh!! Miss u:(

Aiken: Aiiiiiiiiiiiiiikkkkkkkkkkkkkkkeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeennnnnnnnnnn! Ang kabo? Asa ang kabooooo!!!!!!!!!! Regards ko agnes, hazlot, majo and dwight oliver and diding and my beloved roomate. Musta imong painting classes? Miss you!!!

Shang: Salamat sa pag-pa-utang. hehe. C chto, dako na. Daghan n bisyo, hehe. MIss you!!

Mameh: Luv u mameh!!! Apas nya mo direh ha? Ummwah! Alagae ako baby for me:)

Din2: LOve u mommy den!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Miss na kau tka... Im so happy nagka-lyf na ka.. hehehehe. Undangan na lagi tka! Na-amaze lang ko kay lau ra kau ka sa mong daan na self. Mas bongga! Hehe Ummmwah!

Kit: Kinsa napoy gka-buangan nimoh ron??? hahay. Kaw ba... panguyab na gud! Miss you!!!!!!!!

Love u guys... I miss u so much:( wlay lema... best in cry bya ang yuyi.. pero o well. la ko mahimo... Hopefully magkita rta in the near future! Promise effort tana nga walay ma-usab. K???

Love

Mara :)

what i learned

2008-06-30T00:46:00.000-07:00

i learned that life doesn't owe me any favors.

i learned that if it's too hard to hang on, it's time to let go.

i learned that home is a place where they will have to take you in, no matter what sort of shit you get yourself into.

i learned that sex is sex, and that intimacy shouldn't be confused with love.

i learned that maturity isn't about not making mistakes, but facing up to the consequences every time you make one.

i learned that love isn't overrated but our idea of it is.

i learned that when they said 'you should learn love to yourself before you can love someone else', they weren't just trying to be cheesy.

i learned that where i am right now, is exactly where i want to be. it might not be where i should end up, but it's where i should be right now...

i learned that happiness is a choice.

and finally...

i have learned to choose to be happy.

going mainstream

2008-06-26T08:13:00.001-07:00

i try too hard to be emo these days.

i guess i'm running out of genres to ride on.
i am such a walking oxymoron.
the non-conformist who jumps on bandwagons.

the pop spectrum of personalities are just soo...
poppy. it's hard to resist. you even wanna pretend to
be britney or lindsay sometimes just to know how it feels
to be that dysfunctional.

weird that they actually let me teach.
but then again, them kids aren't so impressionable.
i can't believe i hear things that actually shock me in that school.

me. shocked. of what kids do, of all things. i'm too friggin young to
act this old.

haha.

but it's what i get. i AM teaching after all.

(i have no idea why this thing looks like a poem)

i can pretend to care. but i'm too lazy.

2008-06-26T08:03:00.000-07:00

i like that i am self-absorbed. it's simply less of a hassle
to just care about yourself. anyone who isn't self-absorbed
is a liar. everyone only talks about themselves in the net anyway.
and i am just plain incapable of taking myself out of the equation.

it'd be refreshing if we can all just cut the bullshit.

text chronicles

2008-06-24T19:09:00.000-07:00

(inspired by aiken's text poems and written in memory
of all the phones i loved and lost. haha.)

bleep (!)

reduced
to a random beep on your phone
i blink in and out of existence
on those scant seconds
you pause pick up your phone
and read my words
i become a person
worthy of your bemused smile
but not interesting enough
for a reply
just some bored sender
faceless
nameless
listless
until the next...

beep.

-------------
text

the damn thing lights up again
i crane my neck to check
breaking the pretense
of not giving a shit
about whether you text or not
your name flashes
i itch
but wait 2 minutes
before i reach for it
a forwarded message
recycled words
pseudo-sincerity
in a broken-up paragraph
and yet
it makes my day

ahay.

aka UNPRETTY

2008-06-24T17:53:00.000-07:00

Nothing is sadder than a misled duck who actually expects to become a swan someday. The truth is a lot of us are actually born as ugly ducklings, and that’s it. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you can start saving up for plastic surgery.

Hahaha.

Seriously, the world would be a sad, sad place to be if it was all just about looks. And yet, a lot of people measure each other’s worth (and their own) based on how easy they go on the eyes. And if they were born with not-so-good looks the faint glimmer of hope in their horizons lie on plastic surgery and uber expensive make-up. How could we call ourselves animals of higher intellect and yet thrive on such shallowness?

Personally, I was insecure enough to wish I was prettier, fairer, more endowed… blah, blah, blah. But never did I allow it to drive me to the point of distraction. There’s just a lot more to life than physical beauty. Period.

Now, before I get all self-righteous and annoying, let me explain why I have chosen to rant on this particular topic today.

Okay, let me backtrack on what I just said: The truth is that it is driving me to distraction. Because when before it didn’t seem to matter as much, now it’s what everything is ALL about. I look around and see people primping themselves like goddamn peacocks, showing off fake colored feathers for everyone to go “ooh” and “aah” over. It’s driving me nuts!

I heard somewhere that you should never look at beauty magazines, it’ll only make you feel ugly. Truer words have never been spoken. That’s what’s up my ass actually. Up until now, I’ve never felt ugly. But suddenly I have huge pores, I have the skin of a thirty-year old and a wig has more life than my hair. These may be true, but it didn’t use to matter!

So I’m not a friggin’ made-up Barbie with pink pouty lips and porcelain skin. So? How come the world we live in today makes me feel bad about that? So then we go to YouTube and watch those stupid videos of Hollywood stars looking disheveled and (dare I say it?) ugly without make-up and laugh our asses off because look, they’re ugly too!

So what?

Why do we need to rationalize our looks with pictures of movie stars without make-up? At least it’s their job to look good, who made it everyone else’s too? Oh I know, blame on the media, on those stupid advertising agencies that market lies, on those cursed beauty magazines that profess that the standard of beauty is those mannequin stick-like figures we call models, with their bleached teeth and 5-inch lashes. Well, I definitely agree that they are the root of all these evil. But then, where does that leave us? Where would that leave me? Nowhere. Just back to my PC, still bitchin’.

At the end of the day, we gotta eat a piece of the blame pie too. We know it only matters because we let it matter. I’m only ugly because some stupid magazine said so, and I let myself believe it. (Sorry for those whose been expecting some brilliant epiphany at this point, hehe.) So now, I look at myself at the mirror and for the first time, start wishin’ I looked like someone else…

But I’m holding myself from completely believing that. Right after I condemn yet another clump of whiteheads, I say, “Fuck it, I look pretty. I’m not Barbie but I’m not ugly either.” Besides, I’m freaking oozing with inner beauty here.

Hehehe.

Seriously, if you’re suffering from the same dysfunction, straighten yourself up, stop buying beauty mags and stay away from shampoo commercials. Look yourself at the mirror, smile and flush all ugly thoughts away. (Watch out the cheesy part’s comin…) However you look, it’s doesn’t matter. What matters is what’s inside you. (Holy friggin crap, I really said it, ack!)

If that doesn’t work, just think that you can’t be uglier than Pamela Anderson without make-up and take comfort in that. Hehehe – kidding! Really, those TLC gals got it right, we are the only ones in the position to make ourselves feel damn unpretty.

And I for one, sure ain’t unpretty. MAC or no MAC.

scholastic torture

2008-06-14T10:00:00.000-07:00

so i just came home from attending one of THE most boring things
in the world: an icky, loathsome affair aptly called a "strategic
planning workshop" (did i lose you at strategic?) where old
people gather and make 10-year timelines for unbelievably
boring plans. plans on things that only old people are concerned
about. and i am purposely being vague because i was just
sitting there the whole 2 days, pretending to be supremely
interested when im really trying to sleep with my eyes open.

well... okay. that wasnt entirely true.

there were some instances when i forgot to be bored. fine.
i might even conceed that there was once when i actually
formed what can be described as an amused grin.

but that's it.

NO One should misconstrue what i just said to mean i had
a good time. i will not be accused of ENJOYING the company
of old boring teachers.

(haha. trying hard much?)

immortalized by zola

2008-06-12T08:21:00.000-07:00

(did that sound as kinky as i think it did??? hahaha)

here's another one of zola's brilliant compositions inspired
by my big-ass scar. i swear, this girl's talent in finding
inspiration in the trivialities of my insipid half-life
-my so-called mini-tragedies- is almost as inspired as her
poetic prowess. (inspired?! prowess?! --
sorry zo, im only trying to sound literati-ish... haha.
but you do know i am in awe of your talent!:))

They cut you open on the operating table
(for Mara and 500 cc’s of pus and blood)

After much thought
and matchless conviction,
they wheeled you in for the butcher.

Pain is a rock in the gut-
flat, black, and igneous,
swimming in the pit of your thorax;
the metal bed, a planet with four moons
put up low and suspicious,
overbright, overlit,
blatant over your body
split two-ways under the glint of knives.

Bleakly, wake stood waving
from the edge of the dock
at the pier where you set off
to seek worthy finds-
perhaps a heart-
that dropped from a rib,
a panel sliding wetly open
the ashes from the cash
burning swift,
at the tips of harried hands;
the solid smell of soap
and shit lingering like a bad memory
of musty motels and men’s rooms;
the sordid aftertaste
of a kiss that landed in another’s mouth.

They sewed you shut,
the stitches neat, surgical,
your middle, like a drum to thump
the room to silence.

These specters in white,
they hover above their handiwork,
soldiers trooping over your carcass,
they hold your guts up against the light,
(housewives shopping for jams in a grocery aisle.)

Under the sheets, your body,
Hollow, quiet-
in open tomb in a full cemetery.

Girlfriends: A Definition (for Mia and Mara)

2008-06-04T11:11:00.000-07:00

from my uber-talented poet friend-slash-alcohol guru zola gonzalez, thanks zol:)

When we're done shuffling the cards,
and dealing the boards,
turning over red jacks and black hearts,
we sit by the pool.
Day peels itself off
a poster sky holding itself together
till the arrival of stars.
Silence is slow
as blood leaving forgotten wounds.
We lie,
poker facing umbrella trees.
(They tell a different story.)
We lie,
our woman breasts heaving,
reaching different summits,
our rummy breath losing all sense of open air.
We lie,
our feet dangling,
slicing the gelatin water,
making beaver-tail splashes
to warn the colony of the heart.

teacher mara. (what the - ?!)

2008-06-03T10:36:00.000-07:00

And now, for another one of Mara's pseudo-tragedies:

i'm wilting. i'm drooping and sunshine just makes me tired, dehydrated
and more droopy (not to mention sticky). water doesn't help either.
i'm supposed to be blooming and shooting pollens into the air at 22.

okay. the sucky metaphors aren't working. i'll go literal.

i'm unhappy. not depressed-unhappy, more like the whiny
im-not-getting-my-way brand of unhappiness. which has
been my perpetual state since, i don't know, fifth grade? when
i realized i was a loser because i got along better with boys
(by the way, getting along is an extremely relative term)
and was scared of the girls.

amazing how self-absorption ceases to tire a person. much like
permanent narcissism is the bane of beautiful people. (see? hehehe.)

anyway, since i always take myself seriously, under the guise of an
i-don't-give-a-rat's-ass aura of course, i will spend a whole blog post
discussing and dissecting this little tragedy of mine. (i'm loving the
endless supply of cyberspace to fill with my incessant rantings, by the way.
internet is truly the most useful useless thing man has invented.)

back to my tragedy.

(hmmm, sucky metaphors, notes within notes and an oxymoron.
this blog is getting more promising. moving on...)

i still haven't wrapped my head around the idea of me as a teacher (i'm still trying not to gag at the mere mention of it) even after almost two years of the daily torture of standing in front of a seemingly unending parade of bored, uninterested, distracted eyes completely insensitive to my struggle to not spray too much spit. don't they realize how painful it is to be icky and awkward in front of people you don't even like but by some unfortunate cosmic joke you end up being a teacher to?

i mean really, there are only, like, five worse things in life: tsunamis, global warming, poverty, the Mindanao conflict and kris aquino. (okay, SIX worse things. i forgot her icky partner, boy abunda.)

and it's not my fault, mind you. my main charm has always been that i am supremely interesting. and let's not forget my stupendous communicative skills. i'm the life of the party without even trying. it's their fault i don't like them. (and i'm exaggerating my stalwart qualities because it's difficult when you let critics judge for themselves - you always come out less interesting than you actually are.)

don't even get me started about the people i work with. i mean, really. don't. they have internet connections now- much to the utter shock and amazement of my Manileno ex-friend who thought we didn't have electricity in Iligan. (ex-friend meet Maria Cristina Falls, MCF meet the idiot who thinks electricity is shipped from Luzon to Mindanao) as for my co-workers, perhaps it would be suffice to say had i the liberty (or the guts, more like) to talk about them, this blog would be waaay more interesting.

anyway, despite my roundabout (but entertaining, i'm sure) way of expressing my zany self, i do have a point and that is that i have had a realization: for some insane reason, i've convinced myself that this profession is a cross between a death sentence and keloidal scars therefore i have to be miserable. that i haven't given myself even the briefest chance to NOT be miserable. because, then, well, where's the fun in that? seriously, is there anything more boring than a 22-year old SINGLE teacher whose HAPPY with what she does??? that's like a one-way ticket to spinsterhood in my book!

i think i just blasphemed my mom's profession to hell and back (twice in the same sentence) but i'm not talking about this from an adult's point of view. all adults think all professions are to be thought highly of and that teaching, beyond all professions, is the most noble.

but i come from the extreme side of the spectrum here, where teaching is for people who want to "settle down" and be "stable" whereas, "settling down", "stable" and "I" will not be found in the same sentence until ten years from now. (if you can kindly ignore the fact that they just did in the sentence before this.)

there is no room for spunk in this profession. and your idealism gets shot down the drain in an hour-and-a-half to an hour-and-a-half frequency. people think it's about helping the country have a bright and promising future. but there's nothing bright or promising about the faces i see everyday. they just look plain bored.

and do not get me started on the COMPLETE and UTTER LACK OF CUTE GUYS. i swear, any hope for a love life in this environment is down the drain. all i see are married men, old weird types and male children. i have had cute students. but they are INFANTS.

okay. maybe i should give more credit. my students, i mean. but see, i'm just not big enough to. which is the point of this whole convoluted blog, really. teaching is not inherently sucky, in fact, i'm sure there are a lot of arguments for it being noble (all of which escapes me at the moment). it's only sucky because i am simply NOT A TEACHER.

tada. yep, that was the big conclusion. i know you knew that all along, that i'm not college professor material, that is - despite the fact that i am. that was the premise after all. but i'm not here to be brief. i'm here to be brilliantly annoying and funny at the same time, despite the lack of any real insights to share. a feat, unsurpassed by millions of wanna-be ranters out there.

as for my little dilemma. rest assured, i will not attempt to resolve it until my next psuedo-tragedy. lest i doom the cyberspace of a rant-free blog.

the horror.

kwentong yosi

2008-06-02T05:18:00.000-07:00

I hold the smooth, slim stick in my hand and feel for the lighter in my bag. The light touches the flammable tip and I inhale, cloud myself with the haze of indifference. My few moments of oblivion, my few minutes of the day when I can puff sweet relief and silently declare that I don’t give a shit. A stick, then another, and then the moment is gone. My smoking buddies and I glance at each other and sigh, ‘Yep, back to reality.’

People say smoking is overrated. Whatever pleasure or relief you get from it is only psychological. If we’d been face to face, you’d hear me chuckle. That’s just the point, isn’t it? Everybody needs a little relief, a little forbidden pleasure, now and then. Wherever you get it, the pleasure you get is still something that you only mentally conceive. It’s not really about where or what you get it from - it’s all about how you want it to make you feel.

Overrated? Psychological? It is and it isn’t. It depends actually… what do you need relief from? This little cancer stick isn’t for everybody you know. In fact, it isn’t for anybody at all. But smokers have come to rely on it so much, they’d rather forget. From five sticks a day, to ten… to…to sticks?! Who does a couple of lousy sticks a day? More like a whole pack. Or two.

Hahaha.

I’d rather forget. I know it’s not called CANCER stick for nothing. Heck, every smoker knows that. More importantly, smokers know that you can’t really say, “At least I was happy,” when you’re bedridden and diagnosed with lung cancer. But I’d rather forget. Stuff like that just don’t register anymore. You’d paste a graphic ‘Smoking Kills’ poster on my face and I’d just blow smoke right through it. Not a cynic. World’s crazy, but it hasn’t jaded me yet. Just being honest.

At a fragile, vulnerable age where the slightest fight between friends could mean the loss of the only security you know, the need to find an outlet overwhelms common sense and people like smokers turn to the momentary respite of the taste of smoke, the brief interlude between reality and pretense, so that even for a couple of precious minutes you can pretend you’re fine. It’s amazing the sense of false relief and security a meager stick of ground tobacco can give, but when you’re grasping at some form of sanity, some vestige of normality, you’d be willing to find that in just about anything. Even if it is only pretend, even if it’s only in your mind.

But somehow, somehow… despite all the psychological shit and cancer risks? Smoking does give me something tangible. Something that’s not only in my mind. I sit on one of Sted’s empty chairs, feel my empty pocket and look around. I never worry if I haven’t got a smoke. There’s always somebody who’ll readily give a stick or two. No lighter? Just a little hand signal and I’ve got a light. I hear some people preach, “Pati bisyo mo inaasa mo sa iba,” but here in Dumaguete? That’s never true. It’s the camaraderie ng mga nag-yoyosi. You don’t need to know each other’s names, don’t need to have anything in common, just the generosity to share a smoke, a light and you can settle in comfortable silence, filling the air in between with your brand of oxygen.

But sometimes, at times like this, I think and realize, even though I’m almost devoid of the ability to, I want to care. I want to remember. I want to stop depending on it, stop needing… stop thinking I need to depend on it… I know but I want to remember. I am aware and I don’t want to forget…I am aware I shouldn’t smoke. I know this bad for me. I realize this is a deadly habit. And I am painfully, painfully, conscious of the fact that despite all the relief and pleasure I derive from it… I DON’T FRIGGIN’ NEED IT AND I T’S NOT F**KING HELPING ME!

Damn. I need a smoke.

unmarked

2008-05-01T10:03:00.001-07:00

I refuse to make a mark on people's lives, sometimes
maybe i know when it will be unwanted in the end
some random pseudo-sincere scribble
on the precious pages on someone's planner
five years later,
they'll happen on my awkwardly-phrased words
and wonder, "who was this again?"

i'd rather not be remembered at all
than be a scratchy memory to someone
whom i hoped would remember

i have learned that sometimes
we are meant to be fleeting
mere acquiantances to someone
whose life we made a bit more interesting
for a month or so
a couple of weeks, maybe
and that's it.

no bottled memories
no marked beginnings, therefore
no marked endings
not lasting
but not unreal

Saying goodbye to my city

2008-05-01T10:00:00.000-07:00

Things change, that’s for sure. I guess I just never thought they would. You have these ideas in your head of what things should be and how they will be and you get you so involved in these thoughts, it’s too late when you realize the world has passed you by and left you stuck in your thoughts.

It wasn’t really painful when I sat there in the old places where we used to hang-out, it was more like a dull sense of ache; the feeling that comes with the realization that it really will never be the same again. It was feeling that ate away at me piece by piece because in my heart, I so desperately want the things back the way they used to be. Even for a couple of moments.

It’s like in those movies when they sit in places and reminisce and the present merges with the old and they see old faces, hear familiar voices and suddenly they find themselves laughing too, but they’re all by themselves. I kind of had episodes like that and it felt so lonely walking around: smelling same smells, seeing same sights and still, have everything feel so very different.

It feels worse when you feel like no one else cares. That those people you made these memories with have better memories to remember, are experiencing things that will create memories without you in them. What makes it more difficult is that no one ever wanted to forget. They just do. Life’s just crazy that way.

I went to Hayahay on a Reggae Wednesday, the place and the night that had always defined us a group, and instead of getting a taste of what it used to be, I got a taste of what no longer is. I couldn’t stand it. The nostalgia, coupled with the ache and the knowing that you’re making the trip down the memory lane alone was more than I could take.

Dumaguete has always been special for me, because I fancy that where I found myself - that it helped me understand who I really was and where I found people who saw me for who I am. The truth is Dumaguete is just a place where I became the person who I thought I should be – a person who is “free”: free to choose, free to make decisions on her own - and I did. Only, a lot of them were wrong. And yet, even so, I reveled in them because they were mine.

I made a lot of mistakes in Dumaguete. I don’t regret them. But I do regret not learning all the lessons I should have learned. I felt I came to Dumaguete as a naïve, incomplete person searching for an identity. I found what I wanted in Dumaguete, but maybe not what I needed. I found an identity, but it was defined by the people I surrounded myself with and without them, I still found myself incomplete. I guess that’s not really an identity - just an illusion of one.

I hope I find myself soon. It’s not the place really. It’s probably more on knowing where to look. I have so many questions right now, and I feel like I’m existing in a void, cut-off from the world. I want to reach out but nobody’s reaching back. I went to Dumaguete to do a little soul-searching but like an echo, it just threw the questions back unanswered.

I don’t know if no one else understands, but as I left Dumaguete, I think a little part of me died… because I realized that my city was never really mine.

call girl

2006-11-22T22:48:00.000-08:00

8:15 pm

Here we go again.

Eyes still heavy from lack of sleep and too much TV, I drag myself off the bed (strewn with a week’s worth of dirty laundry), and make like a zombie to one of the empty shower stalls. I have 30 minutes to take a shower, get dressed and get a taxi to work.

8:56 pm

Barely made it.

One-way Makati roads are the death of me. I shell out 50 bucks everyday just to get to work even if it’s just a ten-minute walk away. I never have 10 minutes, so its 50 bucks a day for me. Anyway, I’d rather not risk my life. What with the vast selection of dark characters I might run into if I chose to walk (if I did have ten minutes, that is).
I prefer to get to work on time, unscathed, and alive, thank you very much.

9:00 pm

Auto-in.

For call enter yuppies this hyphenated word signals the beginning of yet another stressful, profanity-filled, caffeine-fueled day at work. For unfortunate agents like me who find themselves working for accounts who consider the lack of empathy statements a terminable offense, “Auto-in” also signals the start of a day of kissing ass, and performing miracles for customers who think you’re magicians and not call center agents. We mastered the art of sounding oh so polite and eager to help with sugary voices to irate callers, while giving them the finger.

10:15 pm

First break.

Sometimes, filling your lungs with cigarette smoke just doesn’t do it. You’re still fuming from that customer who called you a retard before he hung up. I inhale a lungful of smoke and imagine strangling that stupid caller. He sounded like he was fat and ugly. I fancied strangling him blue and then kicking his butt off that balcony where I was enjoying this reverie, and imagined his brains splattered all over the concrete. I imagine shouting, “Retard eh!? Well, look whose brainless now!”

Brainless, get it? Hahahaha.

Ugh. I’m pathetic.

Oh well, we take what respite there is. Just to keep from going crazy. Even though it’s my third cup of black coffee (no sugar vendo-variety, of course) I’m still fighting off sleep at the end of my 15-minute break. I crush my paper cup and turn to the door. Time’s up. I think of all the curses I still have to put up with. I have widened my vocabulary with quite colorful ones myself, to be expressed fluently after I push the mute button on. I sigh, put on a derisive smile and think, “Bring it on.”

12:30 am

Lunch.

I line up for my nth chicken meal of the week in McDonalds. Yesterday it was KFC, and the day before it was Jollibee. Chicken, chicken and chicken. Tomorrow it’s Jollibee again and I’m thinking of going out of the box and ordering palabok. Hah. This is what you call varying monotony.

The nature of a call center agent’s job leads him to adopt a fast food diet. And since I have no plans of publishing this article, it is with relish that I say fast food gradually evolve into tasteless crap. It’s inevitable. It’s like eventually, your tongue will refuse to consider it food. But it’s not like I have an array of choices to choose from.

Blech.

I hear the people in front of me talk about their deranged customers and I tune them out. I’ve lost my appetite as it is. I want to be able to pretend I still have one.

…

I’m not a patient person and it makes me wonder, what the hell I’m doing with this job. There are times when it’s fun, in a sick kind of way, like when we make fun of our customers and exchange bloopers. Sometimes you get calls from customers who are totally unhinged, like this caller I from the Bronx who held me personally responsible for the negative balances on her son’s and daughter’s accounts and just wouldn’t stop swearing at me, I swear I could feel her spit spraying on my face. And this other one who asked for my personal details because she wanted to sue me because I refused to give her credit on her already overdrawn account. Or this caller my friend had who was having sex with somebody while on the phone (no joke).

I told you it can get fun. Sick, but fun. Sometimes. But most of the time, I ask myself, “What the hell am I doing?” For the past five months, all my life has been a series of measured segments:

15 minute breaks, 30 minute lunches, 5 minute yosi breaks, 5 hours of sleep, 8 hours of work, 2 hours overtime on offs, 1 hour phone calls to home. The rest of those precious hours and minutes blur and are lost to watching reruns, and living what semblance of a life I have left.

But then, I can be only so melodramatic.

The truth is this job is the only reason why I can even afford to live here in Makati. I willingly lined up as one those applicants who fill the lobby everyday, aware of what this job is all about. It’s the price to pay to fulfill my fancy of surviving Manila. Small-town girls like me who dream of conquering the metropolitan succumb to this job because we have families to send money to and ambitions of making it big. Go for the big pay. It’s the only way to go cause you can’t afford not to otherwise, somebody said to me once. Money, it makes the world go round that’s for sure.

I guess this is what they meant when they said life’s a bitch.

Well, it’s not really that bad. I mean, every 15th and 30th, I am honestly able to say that it really isn’t all that bad. Haha.

Like I said, we take what respite there is.

purple toes

2006-11-13T18:03:00.000-08:00

i look at my toes against the surf, the frothy swirls of the lapping waves in the white sand of my mind's beach. i have painted them purple and i wonder at the curious shade. they remind me of my sister's little purple glass stones that she puts in a bowl in our sunlit room. they glisten and give off purplish sparks.
my toes have no spark at all.
they are not made of glass and the shade i chose is a bit bland.
i have other complaints too. like my feet are way too big. my nails have really short life span and they die after three days of closed footwear.
but the waves, they happily lap them all the same.
next time i'll get a better color.
or maybe just a better shade.
see, i like purple. and i fancy my toes look good on them.