During kindergarten, my school used to have some film showing at our classrooms. It was on our English class. All Disney films were being watched and I remember my boy classmates rolling their eyes when the movies being casted were the Disney princesses: Snow White, Cinderella etcetera. But I’ve never missed a day to watch any of it and I’d even sit in a neighboring classroom. And I could even remember my embarrassing moment of informing my teacher in poor Tagalog, “I-off na natin yung suga, teacher” and then I’d remember Chinky telling me, “Ilaw Ivy oi, dili suga”. I was the laughingstock for a minute but I shrugged it off. I had a way with getting out of these kinds of situations. There was a time when I had my first encounter with sore eyes. Then I missed I movie which then turned out to be my favorite: Beauty and the Beast. When I was younger, I’ve never had the luxury of sitting at the Orchestra seats of the cinema nor did going to one was my family’s habit. My Mom knew that I’ve been feeling sore not because of my eyes but because I’ve missed one film showing. She took me to the cinema then. Sky Hi near Tiano-Montalvan streets. We watched Beauty and the Beast. I was elated at that very day. My Mom was never the affectionate type but she knew I was happy and I knew she was too.
When I was in third grade, my family moved to Digos (then a small town in Davao del Sur. I was in fourth grade at that time, too engrossed with Power Rangers and Ultraman. So when the Ultraman movie showed up in town, I’ve beckoned my Mom to take me, my three younger siblings and my two cousins (Lysther and Analou) to the cinema. I knew she was too unhappy having to take all of us but she did. What was then were “Double with” movies: double marathons of movies being shown. We watched Ultraman “double with” Once upon in China III. Ultraman was shown late and I was anxious that our night would be cut short because my Mom didn’t stay to watch the movies with us; she’d be picking us up in an hour. Some Chinese movie was being served. But again, I always had my way with situations like this. I was to not think of the time and it did work. . I half-yelled the night away, both from scolding my younger brother to stay put on his seat. A Chinese epic movie shown in Chinese language didn’t interest him at all. I first came to know Jet Li that night and I fell in love with him. Even if we were introduced in Cantonese with no subtitles. Geek.
My Tita’s Ninang owns an old cinema, couldn’t remember the name of the place but I remember her old restaurant, Mountain View. We had free passes there when my Tita asks permission on our behalf. Going to the movies did get old for us; one – because we don’t have any control with the movies that are going to be doubled with the one we want to watch and two – because my Mom can’t wait up all night for us to go home. But I was always in high spirits that night especially if I’d get to do what I really want which is then why my Mom sorted this out by having to rent VHS tapes of my choice and go over to my Uncle Joseph’s place every night with my family and do our own film showing.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Noontime in Cebu is not amusing, drenched in sweat and my sleep got cut off. Just turned the AC on.
Number one itinerary for the day yesterday was scratched off. The owner of the pad was unavailable. We’ll have to try again today. But we went over last night to Veramont and had a talk with Erwin (the caretaker). The place is safe and tidy. I wished though that there’s a vacancy on their studio pads. What’s in store for us is a room. Neat. I’ll think about it and have next week to decide.
By the way, I found out that I lost my money when I checked the ATM. I was to take out less than a thousand from my bank account only to find out that I only have P74.65 left. Now I’m thinking where my money got lost. I’ve made three unsuccessful transactions at the ATMs near my office last week and believed my bank was offline. Hmm… I’m thinking of doing away with the series of unfortunate events starting today. I’m starting to see a huge “L” plastered on my forehead. What’s good to do next? Well, there’s the One Tree Hill Season 6 that’s been left pending or maybe I’d take Lily’s advice and watch Tom Hanks’ The Terminal. She’s packing all of our things while I’m sprawling across my bed.
I want to make lunch. We'll head out to buy food. I'm starving!
By the way, I found out that I lost my money when I checked the ATM. I was to take out less than a thousand from my bank account only to find out that I only have P74.65 left. Now I’m thinking where my money got lost. I’ve made three unsuccessful transactions at the ATMs near my office last week and believed my bank was offline. Hmm… I’m thinking of doing away with the series of unfortunate events starting today. I’m starting to see a huge “L” plastered on my forehead. What’s good to do next? Well, there’s the One Tree Hill Season 6 that’s been left pending or maybe I’d take Lily’s advice and watch Tom Hanks’ The Terminal. She’s packing all of our things while I’m sprawling across my bed.
I want to make lunch. We'll head out to buy food. I'm starving!
Friday, September 3, 2010
It sucks when you hope too much but what's good about having sucked is that you'd get the pieces of your mind back in place.
I really don’t have the stamina to eat after I get off from work but Lily insists on me doing it, simply because I wake up the next day at noontime or later. My late ass always gets me to work few minutes away from login time and at times when the day needs it, I get to eat my first meal of the day by 5 in the afternoon. And then I’d complain about the headache and stomach punches...
Earlier after shift, I ate nearly 2 cups of rice but donned a pack of bacon. Sugar and oil – great combo for hypertension. Binging could be helpful to me at this time. I did not pass the Team Lead exam. It sucks because I’ve taken the same test last year and I made it until the final interview, which I’ve blown off by the way. Recently, I’ve been composing speeches for my interviewers that should hit home base but it just dawned over me last night that I will not be facing the panel anyway. I’ve abruptly sent off my daily end of shift reports and hurried home; cried until I made up stories to laugh at. Whew! I stayed up all morning playing all stored games that my Dad has installed in this notebook. I was so engrossed with the game RAVENHEARST and clicking on “Hour glass”, “Fly”, “Bronzed face” and “Tower of Pisa” when I saw daylight peeping through my black curtains. Today, as I got off the bed, I have been prying pages from the net to get some motivational quotes, something to cheer me up and something to get this threatening migraine off my system. I’d have better chances SOON. I’d take this load off my mind and will get on my life’s next craze.
Things to do:
Later, I’d have to check the pad Mommy Mel has recommended me to stay in worth P3, 200 per month. I’ll check on it for I’ve been half settled with my decision for staying at Veramont Dormitory. Either way, I still need to plan on my “GWbilling” loan to cover for the 2 months deposit and a month advance.
Drop money off at Melissa’s BPI account. Need to get those Old Navy slippers here in Cebu. Are the malls banks open until 5PM?
Pig out with Lily at SM. I miss black forest cake and I'm up for it.
I’ve missed writing and my love for it. I guess I’d have to make do with what’s next in line.
Earlier after shift, I ate nearly 2 cups of rice but donned a pack of bacon. Sugar and oil – great combo for hypertension. Binging could be helpful to me at this time. I did not pass the Team Lead exam. It sucks because I’ve taken the same test last year and I made it until the final interview, which I’ve blown off by the way. Recently, I’ve been composing speeches for my interviewers that should hit home base but it just dawned over me last night that I will not be facing the panel anyway. I’ve abruptly sent off my daily end of shift reports and hurried home; cried until I made up stories to laugh at. Whew! I stayed up all morning playing all stored games that my Dad has installed in this notebook. I was so engrossed with the game RAVENHEARST and clicking on “Hour glass”, “Fly”, “Bronzed face” and “Tower of Pisa” when I saw daylight peeping through my black curtains. Today, as I got off the bed, I have been prying pages from the net to get some motivational quotes, something to cheer me up and something to get this threatening migraine off my system. I’d have better chances SOON. I’d take this load off my mind and will get on my life’s next craze.
Things to do:
Later, I’d have to check the pad Mommy Mel has recommended me to stay in worth P3, 200 per month. I’ll check on it for I’ve been half settled with my decision for staying at Veramont Dormitory. Either way, I still need to plan on my “GWbilling” loan to cover for the 2 months deposit and a month advance.
Drop money off at Melissa’s BPI account. Need to get those Old Navy slippers here in Cebu. Are the malls banks open until 5PM?
Pig out with Lily at SM. I miss black forest cake and I'm up for it.
I’ve missed writing and my love for it. I guess I’d have to make do with what’s next in line.
Crazy night. Crazy news. Heavy heart. Heavy head. At least it's Saturday, I'll pounce ahead.
The thing that I wanted most right now is to have someone to talk to and shut me off the craze that my mind is getting me into. It kind of awed me when I was able to compose things by myself. I see tons of opportunities piling up in front of me, but I really don’t know if I have the heart for any of it right now. Looking back, I’d see me stuffing myself with worthless desires; it has blinded my imagination and it has blinded my being.
What do I really want?
I love the feel of after-baths; one that gives you the light chill; makes you feel clean and taut; in fact it sucks up the moisture from your skin.
I love playing the same music twice or thrice or until my eardrums give up and I’d get to pick up the first two stanzas of a song.
I love seeing myself with things that I love.
Books in which half of them is unread.
Stuffed toys in which one of them gets handled only once a week; probably because I’m cleaning their spots or just because.
Expensive perfumes, just so that I can have one.
These are mostly things that I’ve missed out not too long ago but having them are empty realizations.
I’d be baffled; I was a ball of ideas. I’ve missed that person too.
I miss having to talk with old people. They know too much. But I can beat them in using what technology offers nowadays. At least some of them I can. I say they know too much but they don’t. But what I admire from them is living the simplicity of life. Our elders berate every stupid action we take. They frown upon our senseless decisions and no matter how much we try to make our point with them, we think that they’d never understand us and I think they never will. Maybe they know too much but I think they don’t. Maybe they do but they only refuse to concede it. It could be because of guilt, denial or they avoid getting hurt.
I am an impulsive teenage adult. Too eager to grow up and do away with things.
Truth is; I want to live my life as perfect as it could be. Be it in the company of pain or ecstasy. I don’t care, just as long as when I look back, I’d have no regrets. I’ll duck from a few slings and will battle with my greatest fears.
I am always scared to hell but I don’t want to hamper myself for I want to know that in the end, I’d be happy. We live, we breathe, we laugh, we make friends, we cry, we suffer. Everything is because of life. For all we know, it’s just life.
What do I really want?
I love the feel of after-baths; one that gives you the light chill; makes you feel clean and taut; in fact it sucks up the moisture from your skin.
I love playing the same music twice or thrice or until my eardrums give up and I’d get to pick up the first two stanzas of a song.
I love seeing myself with things that I love.
Books in which half of them is unread.
Stuffed toys in which one of them gets handled only once a week; probably because I’m cleaning their spots or just because.
Expensive perfumes, just so that I can have one.
These are mostly things that I’ve missed out not too long ago but having them are empty realizations.
I’d be baffled; I was a ball of ideas. I’ve missed that person too.
I miss having to talk with old people. They know too much. But I can beat them in using what technology offers nowadays. At least some of them I can. I say they know too much but they don’t. But what I admire from them is living the simplicity of life. Our elders berate every stupid action we take. They frown upon our senseless decisions and no matter how much we try to make our point with them, we think that they’d never understand us and I think they never will. Maybe they know too much but I think they don’t. Maybe they do but they only refuse to concede it. It could be because of guilt, denial or they avoid getting hurt.
I am an impulsive teenage adult. Too eager to grow up and do away with things.
Truth is; I want to live my life as perfect as it could be. Be it in the company of pain or ecstasy. I don’t care, just as long as when I look back, I’d have no regrets. I’ll duck from a few slings and will battle with my greatest fears.
I am always scared to hell but I don’t want to hamper myself for I want to know that in the end, I’d be happy. We live, we breathe, we laugh, we make friends, we cry, we suffer. Everything is because of life. For all we know, it’s just life.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Coal Burning.
November 9th, 2009
Groping through the dark, she clawed her fingers on the wet ground. Its earthy smell drowned her senses with euphoria and her every muscle screamed for acceptance. It had rained for years and her hidden dwelling was well tucked from the zonked world outside. Blindness was her company and she preferred the dolorous blankets. Her security was within the walls; the crumbly old walls that has surpassed unknown numbers of strife which bespeaks palpable weakness. She’s hidden herself very well for coon’s ages in a silken cocoon, and remained hidden until today.
Like an infant, peeping from ignorant eyes to catch a glimpse of the world outside. Her seclusion gives her freedom and cabalistic sense of belongingness. She had been warmed for ages. Her period of animated existence had warned her about what’s beyond but paradox ruled. She heard herself breathe for the first time and she felt her heart; a pulpy mass beating madly under her chest.
She heard a faint rustle as if it heard her heartbeat. Walking steps measured but clumsy. A Cyclops eavesdropped, dragging its thin and limp sticks for arms behind; the body too wide for its flailing arms and ball-sized head. It moved across her space and stopped before her crippled feet. Its ugly eyes, big and knowing crept along the folds of its distended eyelids. Eyes which belonged to cutthroat, bloodshot, strained and popping-out purple and red veins was nailed on hers. But her eyes hold no deceit. She waited for it’s disparage. But it didn’t advance, instead, she heard from it a gurgled sound; with its green drool slipping. It was strained as something was lodged in its grimy throat, with a mighty force; it spewed off tiny white insects that sprayed into elusive escape. Some crawled towards her, bit her with every chance that they could get but she didn’t wince in pain. She felt the green muck, thick and mundane. She bathed with it and was sedated. The giant monster continued to slap her with its malodorous seepage. But she didn’t scream in fright but instead nor swayed in disgust, but just sat there on the ground with reverence. Muddy and mute. Her huge eyes, pooled with tears watched as if it’s coruscated. She reached for its jagged face who not long ago was her friend. It bolted in surprise and its unseemly façade crumbled in dejection. Her touch was an unsought poison, accursed but fated. The Cyclops knelt down as it was filled with fervid purpose. She continually duplicated its face with her fingertips; a monster being tamed by a fragile thing. It twisted in rage as it tried to evade the affair but it couldn’t hurt her though it knows it could easily crush her with its weight. Her intense desire to know the realities of the world have constantly evaded her –– by the walls that locked her in and by the false taboo that nurtured her fear. But the creature that knelt before her was different from what she’s been told. In this world, he is a monster— a cannibal, a clod. But he fought off the need for bloodshed. He’s earned his years imbuing violence and carnal satiation. Her mind raced as jagged pieces of flashbacks came back to her. Everything was a mystery wherein she provokes sanguinity. Her fingers dug deep into its rubbery skin, and felt it shedding under her touch. She held one long look at the ragged pill of a monster that had healed her untruthful seclusion.
She felt him quiver.
She felt him sever.
She felt him conquered by her candor. She was his missing abettor.
Little did his mark left her side and it exploded itself into ashes.
She sees beauty in the fallen ashes.
Its lightness rained above her head.
Drop.
Drop.
Drop.
Groping through the dark, she clawed her fingers on the wet ground. Its earthy smell drowned her senses with euphoria and her every muscle screamed for acceptance. It had rained for years and her hidden dwelling was well tucked from the zonked world outside. Blindness was her company and she preferred the dolorous blankets. Her security was within the walls; the crumbly old walls that has surpassed unknown numbers of strife which bespeaks palpable weakness. She’s hidden herself very well for coon’s ages in a silken cocoon, and remained hidden until today.
Like an infant, peeping from ignorant eyes to catch a glimpse of the world outside. Her seclusion gives her freedom and cabalistic sense of belongingness. She had been warmed for ages. Her period of animated existence had warned her about what’s beyond but paradox ruled. She heard herself breathe for the first time and she felt her heart; a pulpy mass beating madly under her chest.
She heard a faint rustle as if it heard her heartbeat. Walking steps measured but clumsy. A Cyclops eavesdropped, dragging its thin and limp sticks for arms behind; the body too wide for its flailing arms and ball-sized head. It moved across her space and stopped before her crippled feet. Its ugly eyes, big and knowing crept along the folds of its distended eyelids. Eyes which belonged to cutthroat, bloodshot, strained and popping-out purple and red veins was nailed on hers. But her eyes hold no deceit. She waited for it’s disparage. But it didn’t advance, instead, she heard from it a gurgled sound; with its green drool slipping. It was strained as something was lodged in its grimy throat, with a mighty force; it spewed off tiny white insects that sprayed into elusive escape. Some crawled towards her, bit her with every chance that they could get but she didn’t wince in pain. She felt the green muck, thick and mundane. She bathed with it and was sedated. The giant monster continued to slap her with its malodorous seepage. But she didn’t scream in fright but instead nor swayed in disgust, but just sat there on the ground with reverence. Muddy and mute. Her huge eyes, pooled with tears watched as if it’s coruscated. She reached for its jagged face who not long ago was her friend. It bolted in surprise and its unseemly façade crumbled in dejection. Her touch was an unsought poison, accursed but fated. The Cyclops knelt down as it was filled with fervid purpose. She continually duplicated its face with her fingertips; a monster being tamed by a fragile thing. It twisted in rage as it tried to evade the affair but it couldn’t hurt her though it knows it could easily crush her with its weight. Her intense desire to know the realities of the world have constantly evaded her –– by the walls that locked her in and by the false taboo that nurtured her fear. But the creature that knelt before her was different from what she’s been told. In this world, he is a monster— a cannibal, a clod. But he fought off the need for bloodshed. He’s earned his years imbuing violence and carnal satiation. Her mind raced as jagged pieces of flashbacks came back to her. Everything was a mystery wherein she provokes sanguinity. Her fingers dug deep into its rubbery skin, and felt it shedding under her touch. She held one long look at the ragged pill of a monster that had healed her untruthful seclusion.
She felt him quiver.
She felt him sever.
She felt him conquered by her candor. She was his missing abettor.
Little did his mark left her side and it exploded itself into ashes.
She sees beauty in the fallen ashes.
Its lightness rained above her head.
Drop.
Drop.
Drop.
ixia.
November 9th, 2009
Adrift.
Nothing but pale feet bound to cold hands.
Sick.
Moaning to an unknown pain that’s brought by the mind’s fragmentation.
Honed.
With wild anger, you’ve learned to detain yourself to your mangled chains.
Oh! What’s with the sweet tangles of breath?
Husky clods of breath; given freely as gifts.
As you sink into its beauty, your unknown offense explodes in painful shards.
Wet slips of desire are insatiable.
Womanly. Ethereal.
Mannish. Impossible.
Adrift.
Nothing but pale feet bound to cold hands.
Sick.
Moaning to an unknown pain that’s brought by the mind’s fragmentation.
Honed.
With wild anger, you’ve learned to detain yourself to your mangled chains.
Oh! What’s with the sweet tangles of breath?
Husky clods of breath; given freely as gifts.
As you sink into its beauty, your unknown offense explodes in painful shards.
Wet slips of desire are insatiable.
Womanly. Ethereal.
Mannish. Impossible.
EARLY MINUTES.
March 19th, 2009
Tears could freeze.
The insides could churn as the stomache lurches constantly.
I get the point NOW: “Men will always be men”.
Partly a silent truce.
You could exhale relief.
Out of good contentment, you’d be happy.
Tears could freeze.
The insides could churn as the stomache lurches constantly.
I get the point NOW: “Men will always be men”.
Partly a silent truce.
You could exhale relief.
Out of good contentment, you’d be happy.
Rules of Commuting in Cebu.
March 17th, 2009
1. P500 pesos is actually acceptable by the konduktor when you don’t have enough sinsilyo to pay for your fare especially if you’re riding a taxi cab.
2. If you’ll travel during daytime, expect that during the rush hours, traffic will meet your ride.
You’ll have to have at least a bottle of water at hand to drown out your throat’s thirst.
It pays off really especially if the city heat pisses you off.
3. You don’t have the right nga mulingkod sa tumoy if bag-o pa ka nisakay.
You have to painstakingly walk down the small aisle made up of knees and feet towards the driver’s backseat.
This happens truthfully whether you’d be riding a multicab or a jeepney. So, take your pick.
4. It isn’t unusual to find someone who places a hand on your leg for support when they go in or out.
Just bring out the best smile that you can even if some kid’s sticky fingers (with a cone with melting ice cream on the other hand) brushes on your newly washed white jeans. Relax, it’s just a kid. Don’t be grumpy.
5. Good thing to know that due to the vast population in Cebu, you’d hardly get to ride on the same PUV with an acquaintance or a friend. Learn the importance of time and patience while you travel home or to work.
Sitting between the aisle is totally normal. There are actually two kinds of “middle seats”:
> QUEENLIKE - In between the driver and the front passenger. Where you get to play like a queen and face the people to your right and left as your slaves.
> “IN”TENSION - drop the ever so known “extension” which is a wide plank of wood (usually measured as 4 x 13 x 2 inches) normally found in double-tired jeepneys for extra passengers to sit on the back. Well here, it’s perfectly normal to sit on the aisle on an small bench which is the alternative for the known EXTENSION.
Scenes described above are based on real life experiences.
Piece of advice: Try to rub your knuckles on your temples and drink lots of water.
1. P500 pesos is actually acceptable by the konduktor when you don’t have enough sinsilyo to pay for your fare especially if you’re riding a taxi cab.
2. If you’ll travel during daytime, expect that during the rush hours, traffic will meet your ride.
You’ll have to have at least a bottle of water at hand to drown out your throat’s thirst.
It pays off really especially if the city heat pisses you off.
3. You don’t have the right nga mulingkod sa tumoy if bag-o pa ka nisakay.
You have to painstakingly walk down the small aisle made up of knees and feet towards the driver’s backseat.
This happens truthfully whether you’d be riding a multicab or a jeepney. So, take your pick.
4. It isn’t unusual to find someone who places a hand on your leg for support when they go in or out.
Just bring out the best smile that you can even if some kid’s sticky fingers (with a cone with melting ice cream on the other hand) brushes on your newly washed white jeans. Relax, it’s just a kid. Don’t be grumpy.
5. Good thing to know that due to the vast population in Cebu, you’d hardly get to ride on the same PUV with an acquaintance or a friend. Learn the importance of time and patience while you travel home or to work.
Sitting between the aisle is totally normal. There are actually two kinds of “middle seats”:
> QUEENLIKE - In between the driver and the front passenger. Where you get to play like a queen and face the people to your right and left as your slaves.
> “IN”TENSION - drop the ever so known “extension” which is a wide plank of wood (usually measured as 4 x 13 x 2 inches) normally found in double-tired jeepneys for extra passengers to sit on the back. Well here, it’s perfectly normal to sit on the aisle on an small bench which is the alternative for the known EXTENSION.
Scenes described above are based on real life experiences.
Piece of advice: Try to rub your knuckles on your temples and drink lots of water.
MY HEART
February 6th, 2009
What you’d hear when you’re about to break up:
1. You are the ideal girlfriend.
2. I feel that I’m not progressing, and I’m afraid of what I would become years from now.
3. I feel jealous because you’ve learned to have fun without me.
4. I want you to stay, I’d look for my own place.
5. I don’t want to hurt you anymore.
Lastly..
6. I’m taking it back.. taking back Sunday.
Edit: I’m taking back everything I’ve said… for another day.
Huh?
What you’d hear when you’re about to break up:
1. You are the ideal girlfriend.
2. I feel that I’m not progressing, and I’m afraid of what I would become years from now.
3. I feel jealous because you’ve learned to have fun without me.
4. I want you to stay, I’d look for my own place.
5. I don’t want to hurt you anymore.
Lastly..
6. I’m taking it back.. taking back Sunday.
Edit: I’m taking back everything I’ve said… for another day.
Huh?
ANG KINABUHI SA TAONG GAPANGWARTA.
October 4th, 2008
Hahay..
Magbinisaya na sad ko kay sakit na akong bag-ang ug stinuryaha ug English kada gabii sa akong mga client.
Kapoy pasakay.
Naa ko sa akong station run, abay mi ni Hanz Artango. Taga-Link2 gihapon.
Okay ra kaau akong work, magtanga lang ka usahay.
Kung sa Link2 tung-una kay pampered ang mga babae, up to 10:30 ra ang pinaka-late nga i-offer nila due to SAFETY purposes.
Pero wala na nga issue dinhi Cebu, mang! Ma-babae, bayot or lalaki ka, ayaw na ug complain sa imong schedule kay mao na jud na.
Especially karon, nabutang ko sa team nga isa sa mga bottom performers sa floor. Pero paytz ra japon akong mga ka-team. Wala mi right mag-arte sa scheduling. Take ra mi ug calls ani taman.
Akong shift dinhi kay usab-usab:
July 9 - 22, 2008 (Shift: 8:00 AM - 4:00 PM, RD: Sat-Sun)
CCT Training = Communications skills training for 2 weeks
Virgin pa kaayu ug mga hitsura. Back to zero para sa ako-a. Isa ka sa mga trainee nga libakon sa mga tenured.
Naa dayun uban mu-suggest sa ilang mga abay: "Tawaga gani na siya bay! Ingna gani "CHADA".. sige na ba, taga-Cagayan man na sila .
(rolled-my-eyes | rolled-my-eyes | rolled-my-eyes)
July 23 - 31 , 2008 (Shift: 3:00 PM - 12:00 MN, RD: Sat-Sun)
PST - Product Support training
Try na ko ug midshift o. Kasulay mu nga mag-oil.oil imung nawong kada human sa shift?
Mga taga-Link2 ra gihapon akong mga kauban. Tingala ko kay ang uban mag2 years na pud daw sila sa Link2 pero wala pa ko kita nila.
Familiar lang ang hitsura sa uban.
August 1 - 8, 2008 (Shift:12:00 NN - 8:00 PM, RD: Sat - Sun)
Nosebleed.
Sugod nang shifting.
August 11 - 15, 2008 (Shift: 11:00 MN - 8:00 AM, RD: Sat-Sun)
Gakahadlok na ko ug gawas sa amu-a. Ang shift ni Jeff kay 9PM.
Kapoy sad magsunod-sunod niya aning orasa noh??
August 18 - 31, 2008 (Shift: 9:00 PM - 6:00 AM, RD: Sat-Sun)
Makaya-kaya ra nako.
Pang-gabii pa man akong shift.
September 4, 2008 (9:00 PM - 6:00 AM)
DEPLOYMENT.
Dinhi magkinamote ang mga tao.
Katung naanad nga ang opening spiel kay : "Thank you for calling Linksys…" ; kay common kaayu.
Katung mga magFULL support, common pud sama nako.
Naanad ra dayun ko after pila ka adlaw.
Power cycle modem, restart computer, online. END OF CALL
or
Setup Outlook Express (sa katung mahilig mag-Outlook Express sa Link2 kay dili ganahan sa webmail, sisiw ra kaayu ni)
Pero abot sad ang uban adlaw nga mag-troubleshoot ko sa mga dili angay i-troubleshoot tungod sa kala-ay sa trabaho.
Abi nako okay na ko. Hastang pa-ita ani nga ibutang kos kaadlawon. Huhu..
Ok pa sa ako katung 12 MN ko, makaya pa nako ug huna-huna nga gabii akong work.
Later on kay nabutang kos 1:00 AM (hikog na ni )
Daghan kaayu ko ug arte.
OO .
Nabag-uhan ra ko sa shift. Pangbayot man gud kaayu.
Laliman ba mu kada mata nako kay sakit kaayu akong likod. Bisan asa ang panuhot.
Sakit kaayu sa akong likod ang maligo ing-ani orasa. Pero wala koy choice, alangan mu-duty ko nga manimaho ug singot.
Ma-imagine nako sila Barry, sila Wyll Yancha ug katung mga 2AM shift.
Kapoya diay noh? Proud pa jud kaayu sila ug announce nga 1 year na sila.
Pasibya ra diay tu kay gikapoy na sila. HAHAHAHA!
Every two weeks ga-change ang shift ug rest day dinhi.
Lahi ra jud.
Kamolo ra ko ug type ani run in between calls.
2:00 AM akong shift, mahuman rako run alas onse.
Igang na kaayu, dili kaayu ka ma-excited ug tulog ug uli.
Dili pud ka kasabot kung dapat na ba ka matulog nga sayu pa man.
Gipang-block tanan websites dinhi sa amu-a karon lang: yahoomail, google, wikipedia, etc.
Pati amung knowledge base gi-block. Down man siguro amung server. CHAR!
Pero unsa may gamit sa proxy diba?? <-snicker->
Hahay..
Hahay..
Magbinisaya na sad ko kay sakit na akong bag-ang ug stinuryaha ug English kada gabii sa akong mga client.
Kapoy pasakay.
Naa ko sa akong station run, abay mi ni Hanz Artango. Taga-Link2 gihapon.
Okay ra kaau akong work, magtanga lang ka usahay.
Kung sa Link2 tung-una kay pampered ang mga babae, up to 10:30 ra ang pinaka-late nga i-offer nila due to SAFETY purposes.
Pero wala na nga issue dinhi Cebu, mang! Ma-babae, bayot or lalaki ka, ayaw na ug complain sa imong schedule kay mao na jud na.
Especially karon, nabutang ko sa team nga isa sa mga bottom performers sa floor. Pero paytz ra japon akong mga ka-team. Wala mi right mag-arte sa scheduling. Take ra mi ug calls ani taman.
Akong shift dinhi kay usab-usab:
July 9 - 22, 2008 (Shift: 8:00 AM - 4:00 PM, RD: Sat-Sun)
CCT Training = Communications skills training for 2 weeks
Virgin pa kaayu ug mga hitsura. Back to zero para sa ako-a. Isa ka sa mga trainee nga libakon sa mga tenured.
Naa dayun uban mu-suggest sa ilang mga abay: "Tawaga gani na siya bay! Ingna gani "CHADA".. sige na ba, taga-Cagayan man na sila .
(rolled-my-eyes | rolled-my-eyes | rolled-my-eyes)
July 23 - 31 , 2008 (Shift: 3:00 PM - 12:00 MN, RD: Sat-Sun)
PST - Product Support training
Try na ko ug midshift o. Kasulay mu nga mag-oil.oil imung nawong kada human sa shift?
Mga taga-Link2 ra gihapon akong mga kauban. Tingala ko kay ang uban mag2 years na pud daw sila sa Link2 pero wala pa ko kita nila.
Familiar lang ang hitsura sa uban.
August 1 - 8, 2008 (Shift:12:00 NN - 8:00 PM, RD: Sat - Sun)
Nosebleed.
Sugod nang shifting.
August 11 - 15, 2008 (Shift: 11:00 MN - 8:00 AM, RD: Sat-Sun)
Gakahadlok na ko ug gawas sa amu-a. Ang shift ni Jeff kay 9PM.
Kapoy sad magsunod-sunod niya aning orasa noh??
August 18 - 31, 2008 (Shift: 9:00 PM - 6:00 AM, RD: Sat-Sun)
Makaya-kaya ra nako.
Pang-gabii pa man akong shift.
September 4, 2008 (9:00 PM - 6:00 AM)
DEPLOYMENT.
Dinhi magkinamote ang mga tao.
Katung naanad nga ang opening spiel kay : "Thank you for calling Linksys…" ; kay common kaayu.
Katung mga magFULL support, common pud sama nako.
Naanad ra dayun ko after pila ka adlaw.
Power cycle modem, restart computer, online. END OF CALL
or
Setup Outlook Express (sa katung mahilig mag-Outlook Express sa Link2 kay dili ganahan sa webmail, sisiw ra kaayu ni)
Pero abot sad ang uban adlaw nga mag-troubleshoot ko sa mga dili angay i-troubleshoot tungod sa kala-ay sa trabaho.
Abi nako okay na ko. Hastang pa-ita ani nga ibutang kos kaadlawon. Huhu..
Ok pa sa ako katung 12 MN ko, makaya pa nako ug huna-huna nga gabii akong work.
Later on kay nabutang kos 1:00 AM (hikog na ni )
Daghan kaayu ko ug arte.
OO .
Nabag-uhan ra ko sa shift. Pangbayot man gud kaayu.
Laliman ba mu kada mata nako kay sakit kaayu akong likod. Bisan asa ang panuhot.
Sakit kaayu sa akong likod ang maligo ing-ani orasa. Pero wala koy choice, alangan mu-duty ko nga manimaho ug singot.
Ma-imagine nako sila Barry, sila Wyll Yancha ug katung mga 2AM shift.
Kapoya diay noh? Proud pa jud kaayu sila ug announce nga 1 year na sila.
Pasibya ra diay tu kay gikapoy na sila. HAHAHAHA!
Every two weeks ga-change ang shift ug rest day dinhi.
Lahi ra jud.
Kamolo ra ko ug type ani run in between calls.
2:00 AM akong shift, mahuman rako run alas onse.
Igang na kaayu, dili kaayu ka ma-excited ug tulog ug uli.
Dili pud ka kasabot kung dapat na ba ka matulog nga sayu pa man.
Gipang-block tanan websites dinhi sa amu-a karon lang: yahoomail, google, wikipedia, etc.
Pati amung knowledge base gi-block. Down man siguro amung server. CHAR!
Pero unsa may gamit sa proxy diba?? <-snicker->
Hahay..
Oddities of Cebu.
September 21st, 2008
Siomai and Poso.
Ngohiong and Poso.
It’s rather an odd combo.
But it’s only in Cebu.
Apparently, when I’ve stepped out of my Sulpicio ride, I was far too unconvinced that I would enjoy it here.
Smog and cold June heat blasted my face as the 6:00 am version of Cebu greeted me.
For a start, if you were a complete ignorant like me, you would find the whole city SOOOOoo BIG! But it isn’t.
Jeff met me outside the pier, grabbed one of my near-bursting-cause-it’s full-of-clothes trolleys and we walked past SM.
He hailed a taxi cab and then we got in.
It was then I realized that I’d left the splendor of CDO.
My heart was beating fast and I was finally free.
An absurd thinking. But now, the consequences would be given from how I’ve wanted things to turn out to be.
As I dug my preheated fork on my newly cooked fried fish (at Gretchen’s), I was wondering if I’d turn out to be okay here.
I’m still at it.. at the point of figuring things out by myself.
I’ve relished the numbered days that I only have to spend at least P6.00 for my jeepney fare.
But it was another devastating change: oil price increases and transport strikes..BOOM!
The fares now duplicated on what I’d had from CDO! Ugh!
Minused EXEMPLARY FARE as a Cebu privilege.
Plus the “Lugar nya!” fever never got off me. This is what yo say when you want to get off the jeepney.
People would give me the look everytime I utter out “chada!”
To make things easier for them, I chanted: “chada! chada! chada!”. They were smirking at me though I got their attention.
If you want to know Cebu, think of dropping some letters off your native vocabulary.
I’d literally cried back home when I was supposed to pick up the laundry but I can’t do it because everything’s going in every direction.
I could only remember two routes to get to the laundry place but there is no way I could explore the city by night.. and unattended.
I’ve explored. Yeah, I did. it took me a month’s time to be actually comfortable to point at places to the cab driver.Ü
The night lurks, same bunch of kids party out.
Lots of night “suloms” at Paseo, the “rock-band oriented” at Outpost, the “tugsh” at Mango Square.
It is up to where your trodding feet comfortably melts.
A lot of things can happen. The city is a place of opportunities.
A smaller version of Manila, as told by Manila TLs, who, in fact, loved the Southern Queen.
It could be crazy. Just as typhoon Frank visited our area, I was to literally float nearly mid-air in I.T. park.
The gust of wind was too strong for my thin body. Otik and Suzette were laughing to see me.. arms outstretched to grab hold any of them for support.
I never liked the BIR (Lahug) woman at aisle 7. She was an absolute BITCH.
I never liked the mornings especially by 6am. Believe me, you’d think it was lunch time.
I never liked the “carenderia” versions of humba, la-uya and balbacua (everything’s loaded with ANISE SEEDS). Nothing beats ZC Monte Carlo.
But there are things that I’m starting to fancy.
1. Lucky Yu’s Melon shake
2. CnT Lechon
3. Colon’s Lantiaw (which means “penis” in the Chinese language) - but it’s actually Cebu’s version of RM
4. Andok’s pork sinigang
5. i1’s 24 - jamaican patties (cheeze burst)
6. Mactan bridge’s view
7. Tipolo church’s cafeteria
Clearly stated by a junk gobbler.
No matter how difficult it is for me to try to adjust to what the people here are accustomed to, it’s okay.
I am not saying people here are complete aliens. I am alienated due to my own rejection for accepting the new place that I am in.
I think I miss CDO. I’d manage.
Siomai and Poso.
Ngohiong and Poso.
It’s rather an odd combo.
But it’s only in Cebu.
Apparently, when I’ve stepped out of my Sulpicio ride, I was far too unconvinced that I would enjoy it here.
Smog and cold June heat blasted my face as the 6:00 am version of Cebu greeted me.
For a start, if you were a complete ignorant like me, you would find the whole city SOOOOoo BIG! But it isn’t.
Jeff met me outside the pier, grabbed one of my near-bursting-cause-it’s full-of-clothes trolleys and we walked past SM.
He hailed a taxi cab and then we got in.
It was then I realized that I’d left the splendor of CDO.
My heart was beating fast and I was finally free.
An absurd thinking. But now, the consequences would be given from how I’ve wanted things to turn out to be.
As I dug my preheated fork on my newly cooked fried fish (at Gretchen’s), I was wondering if I’d turn out to be okay here.
I’m still at it.. at the point of figuring things out by myself.
I’ve relished the numbered days that I only have to spend at least P6.00 for my jeepney fare.
But it was another devastating change: oil price increases and transport strikes..BOOM!
The fares now duplicated on what I’d had from CDO! Ugh!
Minused EXEMPLARY FARE as a Cebu privilege.
Plus the “Lugar nya!” fever never got off me. This is what yo say when you want to get off the jeepney.
People would give me the look everytime I utter out “chada!”
To make things easier for them, I chanted: “chada! chada! chada!”. They were smirking at me though I got their attention.
If you want to know Cebu, think of dropping some letters off your native vocabulary.
I’d literally cried back home when I was supposed to pick up the laundry but I can’t do it because everything’s going in every direction.
I could only remember two routes to get to the laundry place but there is no way I could explore the city by night.. and unattended.
I’ve explored. Yeah, I did. it took me a month’s time to be actually comfortable to point at places to the cab driver.Ü
The night lurks, same bunch of kids party out.
Lots of night “suloms” at Paseo, the “rock-band oriented” at Outpost, the “tugsh” at Mango Square.
It is up to where your trodding feet comfortably melts.
A lot of things can happen. The city is a place of opportunities.
A smaller version of Manila, as told by Manila TLs, who, in fact, loved the Southern Queen.
It could be crazy. Just as typhoon Frank visited our area, I was to literally float nearly mid-air in I.T. park.
The gust of wind was too strong for my thin body. Otik and Suzette were laughing to see me.. arms outstretched to grab hold any of them for support.
I never liked the BIR (Lahug) woman at aisle 7. She was an absolute BITCH.
I never liked the mornings especially by 6am. Believe me, you’d think it was lunch time.
I never liked the “carenderia” versions of humba, la-uya and balbacua (everything’s loaded with ANISE SEEDS). Nothing beats ZC Monte Carlo.
But there are things that I’m starting to fancy.
1. Lucky Yu’s Melon shake
2. CnT Lechon
3. Colon’s Lantiaw (which means “penis” in the Chinese language) - but it’s actually Cebu’s version of RM
4. Andok’s pork sinigang
5. i1’s 24 - jamaican patties (cheeze burst)
6. Mactan bridge’s view
7. Tipolo church’s cafeteria
Clearly stated by a junk gobbler.
No matter how difficult it is for me to try to adjust to what the people here are accustomed to, it’s okay.
I am not saying people here are complete aliens. I am alienated due to my own rejection for accepting the new place that I am in.
I think I miss CDO. I’d manage.
Loco Spot.
May 28th, 2008
I work in a place which comes with the crappy hole and the cheery hole.
I would brush my hand against my eyes.
I would sit in wonder and ponder on what a careful mistake everything has been.
My beloved berth is now hoarded with oversized bitches and political morons.
Thefts on ambition and vanity cynically floated everywhere.
Your crappy thought of your social standing doesn’t make you stand out.
Everyone digs their own holes for their own graves.
An individual comprises a group and the quality of each slowly diminishes.
A toast for hope and a blessing of deliverance are my sole gifts.
I’ve voluntarily cut off my tongue.
I’ve voluntarily freed my mind and my fingers.
People with long faces who complains about this and that are complete ignorants.
Get out! If you want to.
Nothing should hold you back if you know it is very unhealthy.
I’ve quit drinking because I know it’s unhealthy for me.
I speak with a dull mind.
A chord in me got struck and I hated it.
This display of mindless vengeance through my writing is a relief.
I work in a place which comes with the crappy hole and the cheery hole.
I would brush my hand against my eyes.
I would sit in wonder and ponder on what a careful mistake everything has been.
My beloved berth is now hoarded with oversized bitches and political morons.
Thefts on ambition and vanity cynically floated everywhere.
Your crappy thought of your social standing doesn’t make you stand out.
Everyone digs their own holes for their own graves.
An individual comprises a group and the quality of each slowly diminishes.
A toast for hope and a blessing of deliverance are my sole gifts.
I’ve voluntarily cut off my tongue.
I’ve voluntarily freed my mind and my fingers.
People with long faces who complains about this and that are complete ignorants.
Get out! If you want to.
Nothing should hold you back if you know it is very unhealthy.
I’ve quit drinking because I know it’s unhealthy for me.
I speak with a dull mind.
A chord in me got struck and I hated it.
This display of mindless vengeance through my writing is a relief.
VIOLET PALM.
April 23rd, 2008
I was precarious.
A walking nobody and a lanky medicine.
You’d see me down the halls, and I am not a stranger to no one.
Highschool bluffs scared me the most and I was frantic to be outwitted by people older than I am, or younger than I am or even my own peers.
I was a third class junkie and a messed up tiger. I was lost, and I’d never found my way back in the social circle of my own peers. I am loud and you’re right, I am a tattertale. If both of my ends were straight, I’d make sure I would be dented.
I nag, I spit, I drink, I cry, I rebel and refused to be corrected.
My heart would crumble as another prank was hit on me and I could do nothing but sink on the floor walk down the locker halls. I was outraged on how I’ve disrespected myself. I’ve secluded myself to avoid everything. I hated it when people only laughed when they saw me being hit by a trash bin by a so-called “bugoy”. When I was nursing my shin, I threw my bag away and told the Prefect. I’ve smiled when she hauled him and grabbed his shirt out in public near the cafeteria. She took a pair of scissors out of her bag and cut his vainly grown hair and I’d thought my own sweet revenge had taken its place from somebody else’s hand.
My fear grew more when a bubblegum was stuck in my locker’s padlock. On a neighboring locker door was a pasted menstrual napkin painted red smearing off their foolish frolics. I ran towards the nearest rest room and cried myself from helplessness. I’d reinvented myself. I’ve drawn myslef to their crowd. I was to follow around but I remain undetected. They’ve let me in so I was never part of their foolishness anymore.
And so everything became quiet. I am to be unharmed. Day by day, I witness the unraveling of the HIGHSCHOOL mischiefs. I’ve preferred to sulk behind the broom box and read my pocketbooks. Few of my colleagues ran shamelessly as they took with them a backpack from Sophomores and took out calculators, money and stuff. I’ve just nodded at them, acknowledging what they’ve done but remain detached.
I was asked to smuggle. Some lazy bitches from Lourdes asked me to buy them some dope. I took their money but they never got their dope. Few weeks after Junior High started, they got wiped out.
I am always late during the first class. Hell! The Values teacher hated me so much that I would see her neck’s veins popping out as she’d yelled at me. I stood still, she hated me when I looked back emotionless and sarcastic. She dragged me to the Prefect. The very same place where my innocence were put to waste. The Prefect’s room was never sacred. False dysmenorrhea was the greatest female excuse to be excluded from class (Also the best way to snatch some time with your boyfriend). Mompo wine was traditional for late comers. When we were supposed to be detentioned, the mass wine was a feast. She knew she can’t discipline everyone with her thorny eyes and puckered lips. I could easily snatch off admission slips and pull out confiscated I.D.’s of my classmates from her desk.
I was ordinary.
My hair was to be kept on a bun.
I love Choco Krinkles and NgoHiong for recess.
I was to permanently hate Pond’s whitening cream because since then, I was well acquainted to blackheads and whiteheads.
I had to love black since everyone else chose pink, yellow, blue and lavender.
I was to forge our Prefect’s signature, our Values Education teacher’s signature and Sir Ralph’s signature.
I was an invinsible BOMB! A bomb for my lowly acts.
The massive clash of recognition took place in my Highschool years.
It could be a lack of something from someone or anything.
I’ve shared my own struggles but it still mingles in the air that we breathe today.
I was a loser, a nagger and a self-proclaimed outcast.
Knowing life could be a tug-of-war or is this because I was so conscious of all the things that had happened.
Tsk..tsk.. Juvenile dementia.
I stick a finger in my nose, to dull out what’s going to be a happy moment.
In many ways I was a nonconformist.
What used to be pure was grimy and what used to be sweet was sour.
I am Violet Palm, a fusion of stress and ambition.
I was precarious.
A walking nobody and a lanky medicine.
You’d see me down the halls, and I am not a stranger to no one.
Highschool bluffs scared me the most and I was frantic to be outwitted by people older than I am, or younger than I am or even my own peers.
I was a third class junkie and a messed up tiger. I was lost, and I’d never found my way back in the social circle of my own peers. I am loud and you’re right, I am a tattertale. If both of my ends were straight, I’d make sure I would be dented.
I nag, I spit, I drink, I cry, I rebel and refused to be corrected.
My heart would crumble as another prank was hit on me and I could do nothing but sink on the floor walk down the locker halls. I was outraged on how I’ve disrespected myself. I’ve secluded myself to avoid everything. I hated it when people only laughed when they saw me being hit by a trash bin by a so-called “bugoy”. When I was nursing my shin, I threw my bag away and told the Prefect. I’ve smiled when she hauled him and grabbed his shirt out in public near the cafeteria. She took a pair of scissors out of her bag and cut his vainly grown hair and I’d thought my own sweet revenge had taken its place from somebody else’s hand.
My fear grew more when a bubblegum was stuck in my locker’s padlock. On a neighboring locker door was a pasted menstrual napkin painted red smearing off their foolish frolics. I ran towards the nearest rest room and cried myself from helplessness. I’d reinvented myself. I’ve drawn myslef to their crowd. I was to follow around but I remain undetected. They’ve let me in so I was never part of their foolishness anymore.
And so everything became quiet. I am to be unharmed. Day by day, I witness the unraveling of the HIGHSCHOOL mischiefs. I’ve preferred to sulk behind the broom box and read my pocketbooks. Few of my colleagues ran shamelessly as they took with them a backpack from Sophomores and took out calculators, money and stuff. I’ve just nodded at them, acknowledging what they’ve done but remain detached.
I was asked to smuggle. Some lazy bitches from Lourdes asked me to buy them some dope. I took their money but they never got their dope. Few weeks after Junior High started, they got wiped out.
I am always late during the first class. Hell! The Values teacher hated me so much that I would see her neck’s veins popping out as she’d yelled at me. I stood still, she hated me when I looked back emotionless and sarcastic. She dragged me to the Prefect. The very same place where my innocence were put to waste. The Prefect’s room was never sacred. False dysmenorrhea was the greatest female excuse to be excluded from class (Also the best way to snatch some time with your boyfriend). Mompo wine was traditional for late comers. When we were supposed to be detentioned, the mass wine was a feast. She knew she can’t discipline everyone with her thorny eyes and puckered lips. I could easily snatch off admission slips and pull out confiscated I.D.’s of my classmates from her desk.
I was ordinary.
My hair was to be kept on a bun.
I love Choco Krinkles and NgoHiong for recess.
I was to permanently hate Pond’s whitening cream because since then, I was well acquainted to blackheads and whiteheads.
I had to love black since everyone else chose pink, yellow, blue and lavender.
I was to forge our Prefect’s signature, our Values Education teacher’s signature and Sir Ralph’s signature.
I was an invinsible BOMB! A bomb for my lowly acts.
The massive clash of recognition took place in my Highschool years.
It could be a lack of something from someone or anything.
I’ve shared my own struggles but it still mingles in the air that we breathe today.
I was a loser, a nagger and a self-proclaimed outcast.
Knowing life could be a tug-of-war or is this because I was so conscious of all the things that had happened.
Tsk..tsk.. Juvenile dementia.
I stick a finger in my nose, to dull out what’s going to be a happy moment.
In many ways I was a nonconformist.
What used to be pure was grimy and what used to be sweet was sour.
I am Violet Palm, a fusion of stress and ambition.
Fickle Minded
April 1st, 2008
I’d stepped on a weak snail and I heard it’s thin shell of a house crunch as I did it. I continued to walk on, with my traditional black umbrella hovered above my head. My eyes came blinking as I watched the rain-bathed roads and trees and roofs and I smiled as I continued to take a poisonous puff off my cigarette. I am smoking again, by the way. It is not because of the being fond of the wayward thought but it’s just that uncertainty has come visited me lately and it happened last night when I’ve vomitted endlessly and my head was about to split and crack open and my stomach was acidly painful. But I’ve resolved it to bundle up myself to sleep and perspire like a kid battling over his boogeyman.
Dig this! It is already 11:30 in the evening and I haven’t taken my break (which is nothing new). But tonight’s amazing. Only seven of us reported for work. It’s either that we were the only ones on schedule or the others preferred to prolong their sleeps and rest days. Eyes popped out seeing around 5 calls on queue, one which has waited for 5 minutes. I bet the clients waiting are furious. But by and by, a few of us are left here. People are starting to walk out of this company. This is not written out of spite or something but I know people just came to realize that they have to fend for something much better. Better salary, better opportunities and greater chances for them to support their needs. Sometimes the management choke us up. A few of whom I’ve known submitted letters of resignation, so and so, but in return, they are being held by their necks and were not allowed to do so unless you’d be firm on what you really want to happen. The more people leave, the more that the rooms grow colder, and the more that the truth is being uncovered. Well, what truth could that maybe? Perhaps an awakening but too much pride boasts out of every establishment and denies the pleas of the the many.
I’d stepped on a weak snail and I heard it’s thin shell of a house crunch as I did it. I continued to walk on, with my traditional black umbrella hovered above my head. My eyes came blinking as I watched the rain-bathed roads and trees and roofs and I smiled as I continued to take a poisonous puff off my cigarette. I am smoking again, by the way. It is not because of the being fond of the wayward thought but it’s just that uncertainty has come visited me lately and it happened last night when I’ve vomitted endlessly and my head was about to split and crack open and my stomach was acidly painful. But I’ve resolved it to bundle up myself to sleep and perspire like a kid battling over his boogeyman.
Dig this! It is already 11:30 in the evening and I haven’t taken my break (which is nothing new). But tonight’s amazing. Only seven of us reported for work. It’s either that we were the only ones on schedule or the others preferred to prolong their sleeps and rest days. Eyes popped out seeing around 5 calls on queue, one which has waited for 5 minutes. I bet the clients waiting are furious. But by and by, a few of us are left here. People are starting to walk out of this company. This is not written out of spite or something but I know people just came to realize that they have to fend for something much better. Better salary, better opportunities and greater chances for them to support their needs. Sometimes the management choke us up. A few of whom I’ve known submitted letters of resignation, so and so, but in return, they are being held by their necks and were not allowed to do so unless you’d be firm on what you really want to happen. The more people leave, the more that the rooms grow colder, and the more that the truth is being uncovered. Well, what truth could that maybe? Perhaps an awakening but too much pride boasts out of every establishment and denies the pleas of the the many.
Assumptions of What Was Under My Hood.
March 26th, 2008
My eye keeps on blinking out this unwanted sleepless days for unfortunately I am to be awake at nights. Not entirely my idea of a good time to go to work but what choice do I have? Perhaps, I may have used all the best alibis in the world and I’ve somehow realized that it’s time that I’d stop. Well, who’s here to lie about? And so I was told to hover "whiteflower" under my nose to release nausea.
I’m now spending some time on this page: deleting unwanted requests and also cancelled pending year-old requests. What choices do I wish to have? Apparently I don’t have any, not in this kind of world my mind is in. True, that you have to be an ass to be included in that social circle: not just around with the people you encounter most of the time but I am talking about the big world out there. This pressure was made as temporary abuse of your stability and belongingness but it was made essential to close my eyes to momentarily because I don’t have to think any of that. For a time, you would understand that everything I say is common and you’d prefer to skip the point of reading on but what I say would always haunt you. True, that you’d have to think clearly about what’s ahead of us. It has been habitual for us to interact with other people: smiles, hugs, kisses, backbites, tongue-lashes, cat fights and chest pumps. There are others who are entranced by their own capability to crush others while there are losers who are strong, yet, they stay strong only in their minds. Two levels, two names. The one who calls himself powerful and the one who calls himself a loser.
Let me give you an example, think of yourself as someone who could easily manipulate your evaluation and think "What I am doing is the right thing to do. Whatever happens to him, I’ll leave fate to test him." Someone who is living under a manic roof but one that is unaware of his contributions. He is strong with his position but he goes home like an orphaned kitten. Yet he is someone who calls himself powerful. Now, here comes the other, the IT person whom you’d loathe just because he doesn’t fit well into everything. He is the typical jellyfish of a person but if you’d think well, there’s more to us acting human than to be a pliable live-let-live. At some point, he needed the powerful one’s help but he was denied any. There is really no way for us to act as if we are in constant power. To hell with hierarchy and such.
My eye keeps on blinking out this unwanted sleepless days for unfortunately I am to be awake at nights. Not entirely my idea of a good time to go to work but what choice do I have? Perhaps, I may have used all the best alibis in the world and I’ve somehow realized that it’s time that I’d stop. Well, who’s here to lie about? And so I was told to hover "whiteflower" under my nose to release nausea.
I’m now spending some time on this page: deleting unwanted requests and also cancelled pending year-old requests. What choices do I wish to have? Apparently I don’t have any, not in this kind of world my mind is in. True, that you have to be an ass to be included in that social circle: not just around with the people you encounter most of the time but I am talking about the big world out there. This pressure was made as temporary abuse of your stability and belongingness but it was made essential to close my eyes to momentarily because I don’t have to think any of that. For a time, you would understand that everything I say is common and you’d prefer to skip the point of reading on but what I say would always haunt you. True, that you’d have to think clearly about what’s ahead of us. It has been habitual for us to interact with other people: smiles, hugs, kisses, backbites, tongue-lashes, cat fights and chest pumps. There are others who are entranced by their own capability to crush others while there are losers who are strong, yet, they stay strong only in their minds. Two levels, two names. The one who calls himself powerful and the one who calls himself a loser.
Let me give you an example, think of yourself as someone who could easily manipulate your evaluation and think "What I am doing is the right thing to do. Whatever happens to him, I’ll leave fate to test him." Someone who is living under a manic roof but one that is unaware of his contributions. He is strong with his position but he goes home like an orphaned kitten. Yet he is someone who calls himself powerful. Now, here comes the other, the IT person whom you’d loathe just because he doesn’t fit well into everything. He is the typical jellyfish of a person but if you’d think well, there’s more to us acting human than to be a pliable live-let-live. At some point, he needed the powerful one’s help but he was denied any. There is really no way for us to act as if we are in constant power. To hell with hierarchy and such.
OUT OF SYNNEX STARS
March 9th, 2008
It breaks my heart to see little things belittled even more; like seeing Paris shaking with fear right after she was given a hard kick on her side. Poor thing.. I woke up because it pained me to hear her hurt cry. I stayed with her for 20 minutes after midnight. At least, she’d calmed down, and seeing her crouch beneath my feet quivering with uncertainty as she heard the door of her enemy open up and it just made me madder. She laid a dogly peek behind me as she watched him walk falsely towards her but stopped when he saw me beside her. Abusiveness of the fist doesn’t sum up for your being as someone I’d avert from. I stayed up late until I could feel that the dark mist dissolve. Exposure of madness unnerves me, but hurting a helpless being makes me loathe you.
It breaks my heart to think that I couldn’t have done enough on making people happy, contented and protected. Just as I’d watch them pause to think for a while, maybe wishing to be off to the place with that someone that dominates his heart and collecting images of what was it that used to feel good that could only be understood by the two of them. I am insecure, just like an ant would be if a foot would step on it. Little scares are little scares but they also unnerve me. But whatever the sting of my tongue spits out, it doesn’t amount to the real fear that cloaks me. A revelation of my being — that I could be that what you call a "snap of a finger".
It also breaks my heart that I’ve started being a driftwood. Floating in an endless sea of hopefulness but having nothing solid to step on and suffocated in the separated room. I’m unnerved by the vulnerable ME that I’m presenting and I’m afraid of breaking up into pieces and I wouldn’t be able to collect myself again.
I am a mouth, and a big one. One that wouldn’t stop until I’ve devoured all that needs to be devoured. I am a mouth enough to spill myself like wildfire and I am a mouth enough to speak angrily about my life’s frustrations on love, friends and work. It is ideal for me to feel the lot and it is the usual for people to evaluate me after reading this false synopsis of my life.
It breaks my heart to see little things belittled even more; like seeing Paris shaking with fear right after she was given a hard kick on her side. Poor thing.. I woke up because it pained me to hear her hurt cry. I stayed with her for 20 minutes after midnight. At least, she’d calmed down, and seeing her crouch beneath my feet quivering with uncertainty as she heard the door of her enemy open up and it just made me madder. She laid a dogly peek behind me as she watched him walk falsely towards her but stopped when he saw me beside her. Abusiveness of the fist doesn’t sum up for your being as someone I’d avert from. I stayed up late until I could feel that the dark mist dissolve. Exposure of madness unnerves me, but hurting a helpless being makes me loathe you.
It breaks my heart to think that I couldn’t have done enough on making people happy, contented and protected. Just as I’d watch them pause to think for a while, maybe wishing to be off to the place with that someone that dominates his heart and collecting images of what was it that used to feel good that could only be understood by the two of them. I am insecure, just like an ant would be if a foot would step on it. Little scares are little scares but they also unnerve me. But whatever the sting of my tongue spits out, it doesn’t amount to the real fear that cloaks me. A revelation of my being — that I could be that what you call a "snap of a finger".
It also breaks my heart that I’ve started being a driftwood. Floating in an endless sea of hopefulness but having nothing solid to step on and suffocated in the separated room. I’m unnerved by the vulnerable ME that I’m presenting and I’m afraid of breaking up into pieces and I wouldn’t be able to collect myself again.
I am a mouth, and a big one. One that wouldn’t stop until I’ve devoured all that needs to be devoured. I am a mouth enough to spill myself like wildfire and I am a mouth enough to speak angrily about my life’s frustrations on love, friends and work. It is ideal for me to feel the lot and it is the usual for people to evaluate me after reading this false synopsis of my life.
A CHILD’S INNUENDO
February 25th, 2008
Common implications which resulted to problems of the ordinary people… they are so afraid to face reality and would rather go wasted and dead but within safe boundaries. They draw a protective circle around them, a boundary that they can’t live without the comfort of being provided > by their parents, friends and lovers. These comfort factors provides too much in which it deprives them the chance to live reality. Our country fails to be progressive because only a few act to succeed. Mostly, all of them wishes but doesn’t do anything about it at all. Kids for a start, plays with life as if they knew that there would be little of tomorrow that will be left. But a huge fraction of us would look out the window and wishes to play along the fields, all sweat and dust, knowing that home-cooked dinner is awaiting them. We belittle the radical youth, but we wanted to be just like them. A few grew forlorn; afraid of what they’ve become. People sometimes struck a chord of themselves, and perceives what lacks their being. Being rich and famous isn’t the true answer for being successful. True that you’ll be provided, you’ll feel more safe and stable. Just think of any 5-star cuisine versus your mom’s humba? Could you compare and choose what weighs best? I don’t know, my Dad cooks better than my Mom but it somehow feels safe to know that someone you know to well is always there. But I grew afraid the minute I knew that they can’t always be around. We’ve got lives to live. We have to find it’s true meaning. Risks, sacrifices and bitter nights will be your company but they are nothing compared to the results that will be awarded to you. These begrudging hurdles should make you unrestrainable and should never be a heavy load. The more light you give on one cynical thought, the more indisputable it will be after all.
Common implications which resulted to problems of the ordinary people… they are so afraid to face reality and would rather go wasted and dead but within safe boundaries. They draw a protective circle around them, a boundary that they can’t live without the comfort of being provided > by their parents, friends and lovers. These comfort factors provides too much in which it deprives them the chance to live reality. Our country fails to be progressive because only a few act to succeed. Mostly, all of them wishes but doesn’t do anything about it at all. Kids for a start, plays with life as if they knew that there would be little of tomorrow that will be left. But a huge fraction of us would look out the window and wishes to play along the fields, all sweat and dust, knowing that home-cooked dinner is awaiting them. We belittle the radical youth, but we wanted to be just like them. A few grew forlorn; afraid of what they’ve become. People sometimes struck a chord of themselves, and perceives what lacks their being. Being rich and famous isn’t the true answer for being successful. True that you’ll be provided, you’ll feel more safe and stable. Just think of any 5-star cuisine versus your mom’s humba? Could you compare and choose what weighs best? I don’t know, my Dad cooks better than my Mom but it somehow feels safe to know that someone you know to well is always there. But I grew afraid the minute I knew that they can’t always be around. We’ve got lives to live. We have to find it’s true meaning. Risks, sacrifices and bitter nights will be your company but they are nothing compared to the results that will be awarded to you. These begrudging hurdles should make you unrestrainable and should never be a heavy load. The more light you give on one cynical thought, the more indisputable it will be after all.
CHINESE NEW YEAR
February 11th, 2008
February 6, 2008 - CHINESE NEW YEAR
It was around 6 in the evening that Gretchen and I’ve decided to meet at Park Cafe. Jeff and I lingered for a while at the cafe, smoked and sipped the late-served-Coffee Freeze just in time for Greta to arrive. I was half-excited to be invited to join the Chinese Festival at the Chinese Temple. Unfamiliar faces flooded over the brightly flourescent-lit room; few of them were Chinese and mostly were brown-skinned Filipinos. CULTURE SHOCK, was the very first thing that blasted in my mind. Our friend, Pia met us and introduced us to a few people. Blah-blahs about where we work and what we do were the common content of the conversation over the next five minutes and then later on we were to be asked if we want to be blessed? By whom and how? All I know was I was to list my name and add the number 30 or 40 beside it.
CHRISTINE IVY E. VILLALBA 30
Only to find out later that the number would be the exact amount of my donation (I thought it was going to be the year’s lucky number or something). The hosts and hostesses gathered us in their dining area where the food laden table was. What a scrumptious sight it was, but got disappointed by having to taste exactly the oppposite of how it looked like.
We have to raise our plates head-level, twice as our hostess chanted some thanksgiving prayer.
Everything is VEGAN!
* Fried Lumpia - 0 star
* Four Seasons - 5 stars
* Misua Pancit - 0 star
* Adobo Gluten - 3 stars
* Adobo Eggplant - 5 stars
* Adobo Ampalaya - ?
* Fruit Macaroni salad - 3 stars
* Caramel Cookie bars - 5 stars
* Cuchinta - 4 bars
I’m a pro on this but not in here where I have to deal with the crowded room and the EMO KIDS’ line to get some cold water to gulp everything down. For the first time, I’ve only made one trip to the table and swore to never go back again.
Well, here comes entertainment. After our tummies had kicked out famine, a few of the teen kids danced. We were told that they would be presenting on a dance contest at Shanghai but then I did take a second look at the guys in the group. Hey! These were the guys who commonly gets in a fight at Divisoria. Guys who do breakdancing at the plaza with those utterly loudly colored hair and out-of-the-world hiphop outfits. Anyway, let them do their thing, some of them entertained me well.
The prayer begins: to say adieu to 2007. The Buddhism ceremony really gives intricate details on everything. They keep the room brightly lit and the smell of incense wafted in the air. They offer food to the fat Buddha. Every fruit and food and drinks to be offered which are in the plates were precisely counted. Later on, small kneeling pads which you’ll mistake as chocolate-caramel eclairs were laid across the floor. Their holy teacher started the prayer by lighting up a bundle of incense sticks which burned fire endlessly as it was then stationed on the altar. Throughout the ceremony, I was not allowed to cross my arms nor my feet when sitting down. I was to pay attention to the whole unfamiliar ceremony which I think lasted for an hour to two. My feet were getting those nasty cramps. The innocent thought of eagerly being blessed got fouled out. I thought we were only to witness their prayers to say goodbye to 2007 and welcome 2008. But we were to participate as well. I walked voluntarily near the altar, raise my hands as if in prayer, stare at the holy light until they say so, kneel and bow if we have to and follow the Chinese chant and I’m not even sure if I’ve said it right. We were told we’re accepted and along with the burnt prayers and incenses were our names which were said to be now registered in heaven. READ THAT? I am safe.. hahaha!
I was taught to be patient while accepting new things. Buddhism was something new that I was wishing to experience. Something that I wasn’t even aware of having. I thought that the whole process would be as simple as us going to the church; where we could just get in, stand behind the pews and routinely chant the prayers we’ve known by heart since we were toddlers. I’ve started that day — a blasted day of worry and no plans laid ahead. Simply stepping into a very unfamiliar surrounding, which was not that extraordinary and getting accustomed to other people’s tradition, was another one of my lost situations. I was grateful, though I wanted to kick Pia’s butt. If the clock struck at eleven in the evening, it was the Chinese New Year. We arrived at the place at 6 o’clock in the evening. But alas! Who would’ve though it would last until 12 midnight! My eyes were weary and I got myself floating lifelessly on my station the next day. I was too tired and too sleepy but after that vegetarian feast I’ve had, I was not too sure I could eat something.
February 6, 2008 - CHINESE NEW YEAR
It was around 6 in the evening that Gretchen and I’ve decided to meet at Park Cafe. Jeff and I lingered for a while at the cafe, smoked and sipped the late-served-Coffee Freeze just in time for Greta to arrive. I was half-excited to be invited to join the Chinese Festival at the Chinese Temple. Unfamiliar faces flooded over the brightly flourescent-lit room; few of them were Chinese and mostly were brown-skinned Filipinos. CULTURE SHOCK, was the very first thing that blasted in my mind. Our friend, Pia met us and introduced us to a few people. Blah-blahs about where we work and what we do were the common content of the conversation over the next five minutes and then later on we were to be asked if we want to be blessed? By whom and how? All I know was I was to list my name and add the number 30 or 40 beside it.
CHRISTINE IVY E. VILLALBA 30
Only to find out later that the number would be the exact amount of my donation (I thought it was going to be the year’s lucky number or something). The hosts and hostesses gathered us in their dining area where the food laden table was. What a scrumptious sight it was, but got disappointed by having to taste exactly the oppposite of how it looked like.
We have to raise our plates head-level, twice as our hostess chanted some thanksgiving prayer.
Everything is VEGAN!
* Fried Lumpia - 0 star
* Four Seasons - 5 stars
* Misua Pancit - 0 star
* Adobo Gluten - 3 stars
* Adobo Eggplant - 5 stars
* Adobo Ampalaya - ?
* Fruit Macaroni salad - 3 stars
* Caramel Cookie bars - 5 stars
* Cuchinta - 4 bars
I’m a pro on this but not in here where I have to deal with the crowded room and the EMO KIDS’ line to get some cold water to gulp everything down. For the first time, I’ve only made one trip to the table and swore to never go back again.
Well, here comes entertainment. After our tummies had kicked out famine, a few of the teen kids danced. We were told that they would be presenting on a dance contest at Shanghai but then I did take a second look at the guys in the group. Hey! These were the guys who commonly gets in a fight at Divisoria. Guys who do breakdancing at the plaza with those utterly loudly colored hair and out-of-the-world hiphop outfits. Anyway, let them do their thing, some of them entertained me well.
The prayer begins: to say adieu to 2007. The Buddhism ceremony really gives intricate details on everything. They keep the room brightly lit and the smell of incense wafted in the air. They offer food to the fat Buddha. Every fruit and food and drinks to be offered which are in the plates were precisely counted. Later on, small kneeling pads which you’ll mistake as chocolate-caramel eclairs were laid across the floor. Their holy teacher started the prayer by lighting up a bundle of incense sticks which burned fire endlessly as it was then stationed on the altar. Throughout the ceremony, I was not allowed to cross my arms nor my feet when sitting down. I was to pay attention to the whole unfamiliar ceremony which I think lasted for an hour to two. My feet were getting those nasty cramps. The innocent thought of eagerly being blessed got fouled out. I thought we were only to witness their prayers to say goodbye to 2007 and welcome 2008. But we were to participate as well. I walked voluntarily near the altar, raise my hands as if in prayer, stare at the holy light until they say so, kneel and bow if we have to and follow the Chinese chant and I’m not even sure if I’ve said it right. We were told we’re accepted and along with the burnt prayers and incenses were our names which were said to be now registered in heaven. READ THAT? I am safe.. hahaha!
I was taught to be patient while accepting new things. Buddhism was something new that I was wishing to experience. Something that I wasn’t even aware of having. I thought that the whole process would be as simple as us going to the church; where we could just get in, stand behind the pews and routinely chant the prayers we’ve known by heart since we were toddlers. I’ve started that day — a blasted day of worry and no plans laid ahead. Simply stepping into a very unfamiliar surrounding, which was not that extraordinary and getting accustomed to other people’s tradition, was another one of my lost situations. I was grateful, though I wanted to kick Pia’s butt. If the clock struck at eleven in the evening, it was the Chinese New Year. We arrived at the place at 6 o’clock in the evening. But alas! Who would’ve though it would last until 12 midnight! My eyes were weary and I got myself floating lifelessly on my station the next day. I was too tired and too sleepy but after that vegetarian feast I’ve had, I was not too sure I could eat something.
Split Second of Minute Thinking
February 2nd, 2008
It’s hard for me to put up a smile on my face. Everyday, it is a mediocre routine. But when can I scratch out the term "mediocre"? Now or tomorrow would never make a difference if I’d never make a huge turn around about my insights of life. All of us have annotations of being down or sorry or mad or depressed, people have different versions of them but they are all just the same - they dull our days. Insanely, I keep my mind busy of thinking about prairies and sunsets and sunrises and shawarma or a layer of chocolate cake and a puff of green smoke. Bitterly, they’re bad or good but it makes me feel good and I’m happy just by the thought of having those things around me. I haven’t understood what I was upholding before : "Nobody is a good judge nor a perfect critic." But what happened all along was I’ve played the roles of being those and it never made me feel good afterwards. So much for being pretentious and righteous, I consider myself as a comical bitch, inconsistent with the decisions made. But I’m trying my very best not to get knocked out and I hope that my thoughts won’t be wavered by negative impulses that would ruin my decisions, and if by time I’d failed, I’d continue to bless myself with that bright light and think of the new EVERYDAY ahead that will come.
It’s hard for me to put up a smile on my face. Everyday, it is a mediocre routine. But when can I scratch out the term "mediocre"? Now or tomorrow would never make a difference if I’d never make a huge turn around about my insights of life. All of us have annotations of being down or sorry or mad or depressed, people have different versions of them but they are all just the same - they dull our days. Insanely, I keep my mind busy of thinking about prairies and sunsets and sunrises and shawarma or a layer of chocolate cake and a puff of green smoke. Bitterly, they’re bad or good but it makes me feel good and I’m happy just by the thought of having those things around me. I haven’t understood what I was upholding before : "Nobody is a good judge nor a perfect critic." But what happened all along was I’ve played the roles of being those and it never made me feel good afterwards. So much for being pretentious and righteous, I consider myself as a comical bitch, inconsistent with the decisions made. But I’m trying my very best not to get knocked out and I hope that my thoughts won’t be wavered by negative impulses that would ruin my decisions, and if by time I’d failed, I’d continue to bless myself with that bright light and think of the new EVERYDAY ahead that will come.
Barbwired Home
September 5th, 2007
She was an old woman, content of what her daily routine was and somewhat a faithful one. Every exasperating morning, I’d walk the 15-minute walk from where I am staying at towards the office. I would meet Kenyon (Dunhill’s 8 month old German Shepherd dog) and his morning hypes. The evening was still on the verge of kissing the morning sky. About halfway on my track, I’d be meeting the old madame. Wearing a plain shirt, a pair of shorts and a pair of running shoes, her hair swayed as she do her brisk walks downhill. An obvious costume for someone who’s out to do exercises. What makes her a stunner are the glass-beaded rosary she’s holding on her right hand while a long metal stick is outstretched out of her left hand. She’s probably gotten out of a stroke, I dunno. I am just new from the neighborhood. Camella’s my three weeks residential place. I am yet to get acquainted by the half-eerie feeling of having Moslems as my new neighbors. They live privately and they don’t harm anyone, I avoid crossing their path because I’ve recently been welcomed by an aggressive dude who insisted on having my cellphone number when we were waiting for the shuttle to pick us up by the guard house. He was aggressive, alright. An obvious sign of being an uneducated dodo. But I’ve shoved him off. So, this would leave me to going home early and not alone from now on.
She was an old woman, content of what her daily routine was and somewhat a faithful one. Every exasperating morning, I’d walk the 15-minute walk from where I am staying at towards the office. I would meet Kenyon (Dunhill’s 8 month old German Shepherd dog) and his morning hypes. The evening was still on the verge of kissing the morning sky. About halfway on my track, I’d be meeting the old madame. Wearing a plain shirt, a pair of shorts and a pair of running shoes, her hair swayed as she do her brisk walks downhill. An obvious costume for someone who’s out to do exercises. What makes her a stunner are the glass-beaded rosary she’s holding on her right hand while a long metal stick is outstretched out of her left hand. She’s probably gotten out of a stroke, I dunno. I am just new from the neighborhood. Camella’s my three weeks residential place. I am yet to get acquainted by the half-eerie feeling of having Moslems as my new neighbors. They live privately and they don’t harm anyone, I avoid crossing their path because I’ve recently been welcomed by an aggressive dude who insisted on having my cellphone number when we were waiting for the shuttle to pick us up by the guard house. He was aggressive, alright. An obvious sign of being an uneducated dodo. But I’ve shoved him off. So, this would leave me to going home early and not alone from now on.
I Have Wept For My Oscar
August 29th, 2007
My little baby has gone. A flashback : His soft pink paws prodding the floors of our house without any disturbing sound. They became calloused and blackened after four years of still being the alert him. He’d finally decided to douse himself to an unending sleep yesterday and my heart broke. How I pity his state when I came over the clinic from time to time, seeing him weakened by the numerous antibiotics fed by the custodians. His tummy was afilled with nothing but those medicines. He refuses to eat, he refuses to be well. I guess it was his time. His furry coat was such a comfort as he was my bedmate, as well. I am truly going to miss him. He was nothing but a little angel for a loyal protector. Bless him.Ü
My little baby has gone. A flashback : His soft pink paws prodding the floors of our house without any disturbing sound. They became calloused and blackened after four years of still being the alert him. He’d finally decided to douse himself to an unending sleep yesterday and my heart broke. How I pity his state when I came over the clinic from time to time, seeing him weakened by the numerous antibiotics fed by the custodians. His tummy was afilled with nothing but those medicines. He refuses to eat, he refuses to be well. I guess it was his time. His furry coat was such a comfort as he was my bedmate, as well. I am truly going to miss him. He was nothing but a little angel for a loyal protector. Bless him.Ü
Screaming Infidelities
August 7th, 2007
I am wasted. I did nothing but screamed at my day’s infidels. My head wishes to break into bloody pieces but I don’t want to feel the drastic pain if it’s going to. Hopelessly finding some ways to drain off my tiresome day. I am apart from being lonely. This is going to be the start of my life and I will never be wishing to go back. I’ve made anthems of hope and frustrations over my head but they’ve remain unpublished and unheard. Gladly uprooted the nagging pain off my chest and I’d have moments to flick it off out of my system, this time - ENTIRELY. But what is the essence of having to be a bitchy brat but your worldly choice to reach the truthful high is to sit and read this and be lonely FOREVER! I can be grateful but I refuse to be stomped over.
I am wasted. I did nothing but screamed at my day’s infidels. My head wishes to break into bloody pieces but I don’t want to feel the drastic pain if it’s going to. Hopelessly finding some ways to drain off my tiresome day. I am apart from being lonely. This is going to be the start of my life and I will never be wishing to go back. I’ve made anthems of hope and frustrations over my head but they’ve remain unpublished and unheard. Gladly uprooted the nagging pain off my chest and I’d have moments to flick it off out of my system, this time - ENTIRELY. But what is the essence of having to be a bitchy brat but your worldly choice to reach the truthful high is to sit and read this and be lonely FOREVER! I can be grateful but I refuse to be stomped over.
The Truth about Adam and Eve
August 7th, 2007
One day in the Garden of Eden, Eve calls out to God…
"Lord, I have
a problem!"
"What’s the problem, Eve?"
"Lord, I
know you’ve created me and have provided this beautiful garden and all of these
wonderful animals, and that hilarious comedic snake, but I’m just not
happy."
"Why is that, Eve?" came the reply from
above.
"Lord, I am lonely. And I’m sick to death of
apples."
"Well, Eve, in that case, I have a solution. I shall
create a man for you."
"What’s a ‘man,’ Lord?"
"This man will be a flawed creature, with many bad traits. He’ll
lie, cheat, and be vainglorious; all in all, he’ll give you a hard time. But,
he’ll be bigger, faster, and will like to hunt and kill things. He will
look silly aroused, but since you’ve being complaining, I’ll create him in such
a way that he will satisfy your… ah, physical needs. He’ll be witless
and will revel in childish things like fighting and kicking a ball about.
He won’t be too smart, so he’ll also need your advise to think
properly."
"Sounds great," says Eve, with an ironically
raised eyebrow.
"What’s the catch, Lord?"
"Yeah, well….
you can have him on one condition."
"What’s that,
Lord?"
"As I said, he’ll be proud, arrogant, and
self-admiring…So you’ll have to let him believe that I made him first…So,
just remember… it’s our secret… Woman-to-woman!"
One day in the Garden of Eden, Eve calls out to God…
"Lord, I have
a problem!"
"What’s the problem, Eve?"
"Lord, I
know you’ve created me and have provided this beautiful garden and all of these
wonderful animals, and that hilarious comedic snake, but I’m just not
happy."
"Why is that, Eve?" came the reply from
above.
"Lord, I am lonely. And I’m sick to death of
apples."
"Well, Eve, in that case, I have a solution. I shall
create a man for you."
"What’s a ‘man,’ Lord?"
"This man will be a flawed creature, with many bad traits. He’ll
lie, cheat, and be vainglorious; all in all, he’ll give you a hard time. But,
he’ll be bigger, faster, and will like to hunt and kill things. He will
look silly aroused, but since you’ve being complaining, I’ll create him in such
a way that he will satisfy your… ah, physical needs. He’ll be witless
and will revel in childish things like fighting and kicking a ball about.
He won’t be too smart, so he’ll also need your advise to think
properly."
"Sounds great," says Eve, with an ironically
raised eyebrow.
"What’s the catch, Lord?"
"Yeah, well….
you can have him on one condition."
"What’s that,
Lord?"
"As I said, he’ll be proud, arrogant, and
self-admiring…So you’ll have to let him believe that I made him first…So,
just remember… it’s our secret… Woman-to-woman!"
Dreams doesn’t always mean it’s a Euphoric Escape
August 5th, 2007
I base my thoughts in life through a simple dream. It could end up being a nightmare or I could float earnestly with glee about it. I would never had thought about writing this stuff because it would sound so fictional and this is not something to applaud about. I don’t want to sound like a freak. But there were too many DEJA VUs, too many ALMOSTS.
* I was then a kid, I held on to one piece of something that serves as an expensive treasure for me. It was a ring from my Barbie doll collection. I could remember how it’s elongated purple crystal gleamed whenever I raise my hand to hit it with the light, its tiny rosettes of faux crystals surrounding it would sparkle. A girl of no more than six years old would truly consider it as a priced possession. We went to Davao, thinking we went there for a short visit to my estranged mother-side’s family. We stayed there for good and I’d completely forgotten about the ring.
I’ve dreamt of missing something and it left a heavy mark on my heart.
* Just when we came back to CDO two years after, I’d never stopped fumbling over the hem of my shirt, thinking of the loss I’ve had. Gone were all of the things in our house, my irrational uncle had sold all of it saying he was at loss of money when we were at Davao. I hated him for it, I even lost my dog, Puppy. Our neighbor said Puppy had ran away because she never got fed. Maybe she was just telling me this for me to get over the grief. But I’ve kept my hate to myself, seeing how bravely my Dad could walk in the situation; never spill a single word of disgust nor he’d even lashed out at my uncle. My Dad was patient and it never occured to him to be mad at somebody unless he’d be provoked. This maybe one of his frustrations. I share the same frustrations. We could hold on to the pain and we could easily forgive but doubts would eat our minds and that’s what could trigger us to scream in fury, only for a time but we grow tired of beng played around.
Days had passed, I may have neglected the inner part of me. I was in college when I remembered I’d began dreaming again. Three silver-white coffins trailed themselves before me. I was in a wide hall, with a handful of pews arranged in slanting rows opposite each other. People started to pop up, as they casually grabbed a glass of orange refreshment, like a simple rendezvous going on. I was bidding my time to walk in between the undisturbed crowds.
* My mom was shattered later one day, cold feet and clammy hands. I could make her out from the window where I was watching her trying to hold on to her cellphone as she’d talked with her sister. Her younger brother died. Shot right in the head, in broad daylight; and was accused (although I truly know he’s still at it) to be a drug dealer. I traveled with my Mom back to Davao, my first time to be back after 10 years. We never got a warm welcome, some of my uncles held a grudge towards my mother, blaming Uncle Luis’ death on her. They’d blamed their having to be poor to be her fault. They’ve blamed their being lazy to be her fault. My Mom cried in mixed emotions : over the grief of her loss of her brother and over the maddened hate she’s built towards her ungrateful siblings. I was clutching on my fork at that time, thinking I’d lunge towards any of them that dares to make that one false move. I don’t care about ending up being hurt but I don’t want to see my Mom hurt as well. I was sickened by the though that until now, they depend on her. Being the eldest of ten and all, my Mom has took hold of the inheritance they’re supposed to have which was given by my late grandfather. Regarding the wherabouts of it, I have no idea. But the mere thought that they’d be saved from struggling poverty if they’d have the money with them gives me the craze. They are just plain LAZY. Their name bore a prestigious mark in Digos. ESTRADA, a name that they’re putting in vain. A name they’ve greatly usurped thinking they’d be fed by the riches worked hard by our ancestors. I pity them.
—
* A few months later, my grand uncle died. I don’t know him that well but my Dad has lived with him in his early years of childhood at Surigao del Sur so he’s not a distant relative. Lolo Boy was someone we visit at Tagoloan during Sunday mornings since it was a few minutes drive from our place. His place is where we’d lived before when I was younger, where my uncles and aunts lived on the same street. I was a miniature doll or a pet to Lolo Boy’s family. I was told I’d often escape from our house and trottle my way towards theirs. My Mom got accustomed to my toddler-mischiefs, knowing the lost me is just at Lolo Boy’s house. That was it then, the second coffin passed.
—
* Weeks later, Daddy Jun died, my grand Uncle as well. This time, he played a deep part in my life. I’ve known him since I was young and his eldest daughter, Keziah happens to be my colleague although she’s a year older than I. He was my known avenger, who’d tolerated my rebellious acts and who’d dared to despise my Dad for battering me up. I was fourteen when he’s told me to stay at his house if I find myself being hurt by my family. I’ve reacted and I’ve said : NO. I was too young to decide then, I was unhappy but I was afraid of what my Dad’s going to say. It took me six years to think about it and I’ve finally decided to stay at his house but by that time he was already gone. I’m still protected by him and I could feel his presence just inches away from me. It’s not freaky though. His presence could be the reason why I am so stubborn and unafraid to take chances. I’m still living in his home, though when he’d lived, he rarely comes here. He busied himself with the stupid MANLY-MISTAKES of being a cheater but I’ve never lost my respect towards him. I’d cringed whenever he’d measure out the people I befriend with. He was strict but I am not afraid of him because I love him and he won’t hurt me anyhow. I love my Dad, too but he was someone that I could easily hate because he could crush me easily as well.
I rarely speak about the innards of my being. But these are the thoughts that were composed inside my mind. I’ve closed my weird connections to my dreams but it keeps on coming back.
—
I’ve dreamt of my Dad, and he was doing nothing in my dream, somewhat floating in a distant.
* Days later, he had an accident for being a drunk driver. A reckless decision to go home with limp legs to push on the pedals. He was alright.
I was fearful of what I should be dreaming about the next time.
—
I had a good view of the beach up ahead, when I ran towards the scene, the beach was gone. It was all replaced by a rain-drenched soil and three giant scorpions scrambled for clearing, hiding behind the rocks that I’ve stood on. My Team Captain, Diggy stood infront of me and I tiptoed myself up to give him a tight hug before I woke up from my sleep.
* It was a day after this dream had occured that I’d helplessly watched three men stowed away, away with my bag and personal belongings. They’d mugged me at the dark corners of the street when I was headed home at dawn from work, aiming a dull knife at my chest if I don’t hand my things over. It has been raining those days and I’d knelt mindlessly on the mud watching them get away and I was unable to scream for help. What I could remember was that Diggy was the last person that I’ve hugged before I went inside the shuttle bound for home on that day. I give up! I was jinxed and I’ve learned to hate sleeping. My mind had recently failed to create dreams for me, I was on my own again.
—
I’ve dreamt of Mabsy, a friend. A giant for a child who was generous enough to share his treasured gifts to me. He’s gotten into a brawl in Iligan and I’ve seen how wrecked his face was, tagging along with him were the two Hazels he’s been with (HAZEL LEE) and he’s currently with (HAZEL JACKSON).
* This was in my dream. The two Hazels are not in good terms actually nor Hazel Lee and Mabsy. Just last Monday, HuLee relayed to me about the accident Mabsy has gotten into. His car crashed on a jeepney. It was a wreck! He can’t use it no more. Now, I’m wondering, am I envisioning things or what?
I don’t want to think that probably I am cursed or jinxed or something. But all I know is I’ve never have problems talking to people about the dreams that I’m having and they usually become partly real days after I’ve told off my stories. A premonition, maybe. A rare occurence to an ordinary person but it is happening to me. This doesn’t separates me from the normal thinking of human beings but my heart beats rapidly for the eerie experiences I have. I dream of bad dreams, of something awful that is about to happen. I force myself to shut my eyes, thinking I could redo everything but I’ve got no hold on fate. It will happen. Things will happen. I’ve grown sallow and thin. I am not in a delusion but my mind’s in a wild craze. I am uncomfortable and I am afraid. Dreams became my enemy but certainly an answer still floats from nowhere and I couldn’t have a grasp on it.
I base my thoughts in life through a simple dream. It could end up being a nightmare or I could float earnestly with glee about it. I would never had thought about writing this stuff because it would sound so fictional and this is not something to applaud about. I don’t want to sound like a freak. But there were too many DEJA VUs, too many ALMOSTS.
* I was then a kid, I held on to one piece of something that serves as an expensive treasure for me. It was a ring from my Barbie doll collection. I could remember how it’s elongated purple crystal gleamed whenever I raise my hand to hit it with the light, its tiny rosettes of faux crystals surrounding it would sparkle. A girl of no more than six years old would truly consider it as a priced possession. We went to Davao, thinking we went there for a short visit to my estranged mother-side’s family. We stayed there for good and I’d completely forgotten about the ring.
I’ve dreamt of missing something and it left a heavy mark on my heart.
* Just when we came back to CDO two years after, I’d never stopped fumbling over the hem of my shirt, thinking of the loss I’ve had. Gone were all of the things in our house, my irrational uncle had sold all of it saying he was at loss of money when we were at Davao. I hated him for it, I even lost my dog, Puppy. Our neighbor said Puppy had ran away because she never got fed. Maybe she was just telling me this for me to get over the grief. But I’ve kept my hate to myself, seeing how bravely my Dad could walk in the situation; never spill a single word of disgust nor he’d even lashed out at my uncle. My Dad was patient and it never occured to him to be mad at somebody unless he’d be provoked. This maybe one of his frustrations. I share the same frustrations. We could hold on to the pain and we could easily forgive but doubts would eat our minds and that’s what could trigger us to scream in fury, only for a time but we grow tired of beng played around.
Days had passed, I may have neglected the inner part of me. I was in college when I remembered I’d began dreaming again. Three silver-white coffins trailed themselves before me. I was in a wide hall, with a handful of pews arranged in slanting rows opposite each other. People started to pop up, as they casually grabbed a glass of orange refreshment, like a simple rendezvous going on. I was bidding my time to walk in between the undisturbed crowds.
* My mom was shattered later one day, cold feet and clammy hands. I could make her out from the window where I was watching her trying to hold on to her cellphone as she’d talked with her sister. Her younger brother died. Shot right in the head, in broad daylight; and was accused (although I truly know he’s still at it) to be a drug dealer. I traveled with my Mom back to Davao, my first time to be back after 10 years. We never got a warm welcome, some of my uncles held a grudge towards my mother, blaming Uncle Luis’ death on her. They’d blamed their having to be poor to be her fault. They’ve blamed their being lazy to be her fault. My Mom cried in mixed emotions : over the grief of her loss of her brother and over the maddened hate she’s built towards her ungrateful siblings. I was clutching on my fork at that time, thinking I’d lunge towards any of them that dares to make that one false move. I don’t care about ending up being hurt but I don’t want to see my Mom hurt as well. I was sickened by the though that until now, they depend on her. Being the eldest of ten and all, my Mom has took hold of the inheritance they’re supposed to have which was given by my late grandfather. Regarding the wherabouts of it, I have no idea. But the mere thought that they’d be saved from struggling poverty if they’d have the money with them gives me the craze. They are just plain LAZY. Their name bore a prestigious mark in Digos. ESTRADA, a name that they’re putting in vain. A name they’ve greatly usurped thinking they’d be fed by the riches worked hard by our ancestors. I pity them.
—
* A few months later, my grand uncle died. I don’t know him that well but my Dad has lived with him in his early years of childhood at Surigao del Sur so he’s not a distant relative. Lolo Boy was someone we visit at Tagoloan during Sunday mornings since it was a few minutes drive from our place. His place is where we’d lived before when I was younger, where my uncles and aunts lived on the same street. I was a miniature doll or a pet to Lolo Boy’s family. I was told I’d often escape from our house and trottle my way towards theirs. My Mom got accustomed to my toddler-mischiefs, knowing the lost me is just at Lolo Boy’s house. That was it then, the second coffin passed.
—
* Weeks later, Daddy Jun died, my grand Uncle as well. This time, he played a deep part in my life. I’ve known him since I was young and his eldest daughter, Keziah happens to be my colleague although she’s a year older than I. He was my known avenger, who’d tolerated my rebellious acts and who’d dared to despise my Dad for battering me up. I was fourteen when he’s told me to stay at his house if I find myself being hurt by my family. I’ve reacted and I’ve said : NO. I was too young to decide then, I was unhappy but I was afraid of what my Dad’s going to say. It took me six years to think about it and I’ve finally decided to stay at his house but by that time he was already gone. I’m still protected by him and I could feel his presence just inches away from me. It’s not freaky though. His presence could be the reason why I am so stubborn and unafraid to take chances. I’m still living in his home, though when he’d lived, he rarely comes here. He busied himself with the stupid MANLY-MISTAKES of being a cheater but I’ve never lost my respect towards him. I’d cringed whenever he’d measure out the people I befriend with. He was strict but I am not afraid of him because I love him and he won’t hurt me anyhow. I love my Dad, too but he was someone that I could easily hate because he could crush me easily as well.
I rarely speak about the innards of my being. But these are the thoughts that were composed inside my mind. I’ve closed my weird connections to my dreams but it keeps on coming back.
—
I’ve dreamt of my Dad, and he was doing nothing in my dream, somewhat floating in a distant.
* Days later, he had an accident for being a drunk driver. A reckless decision to go home with limp legs to push on the pedals. He was alright.
I was fearful of what I should be dreaming about the next time.
—
I had a good view of the beach up ahead, when I ran towards the scene, the beach was gone. It was all replaced by a rain-drenched soil and three giant scorpions scrambled for clearing, hiding behind the rocks that I’ve stood on. My Team Captain, Diggy stood infront of me and I tiptoed myself up to give him a tight hug before I woke up from my sleep.
* It was a day after this dream had occured that I’d helplessly watched three men stowed away, away with my bag and personal belongings. They’d mugged me at the dark corners of the street when I was headed home at dawn from work, aiming a dull knife at my chest if I don’t hand my things over. It has been raining those days and I’d knelt mindlessly on the mud watching them get away and I was unable to scream for help. What I could remember was that Diggy was the last person that I’ve hugged before I went inside the shuttle bound for home on that day. I give up! I was jinxed and I’ve learned to hate sleeping. My mind had recently failed to create dreams for me, I was on my own again.
—
I’ve dreamt of Mabsy, a friend. A giant for a child who was generous enough to share his treasured gifts to me. He’s gotten into a brawl in Iligan and I’ve seen how wrecked his face was, tagging along with him were the two Hazels he’s been with (HAZEL LEE) and he’s currently with (HAZEL JACKSON).
* This was in my dream. The two Hazels are not in good terms actually nor Hazel Lee and Mabsy. Just last Monday, HuLee relayed to me about the accident Mabsy has gotten into. His car crashed on a jeepney. It was a wreck! He can’t use it no more. Now, I’m wondering, am I envisioning things or what?
I don’t want to think that probably I am cursed or jinxed or something. But all I know is I’ve never have problems talking to people about the dreams that I’m having and they usually become partly real days after I’ve told off my stories. A premonition, maybe. A rare occurence to an ordinary person but it is happening to me. This doesn’t separates me from the normal thinking of human beings but my heart beats rapidly for the eerie experiences I have. I dream of bad dreams, of something awful that is about to happen. I force myself to shut my eyes, thinking I could redo everything but I’ve got no hold on fate. It will happen. Things will happen. I’ve grown sallow and thin. I am not in a delusion but my mind’s in a wild craze. I am uncomfortable and I am afraid. Dreams became my enemy but certainly an answer still floats from nowhere and I couldn’t have a grasp on it.
When You Love Him, But He Doesn’t Love You…Yet
July 27th, 2007
The Nature of the Dilemma
It happens all the time. The quintessential drama that young, and perhaps
not so young, women find themselves in. They encounter a man and they
fall in love. For some it may happen instantly…for others, it may take
weeks, even months to develop. But the final result is precisely that:
she is in love, he isn’t—not with her, anyway.
Yes,
it feels dire, desperate, and hopeless…particularly in this staunchly
conservative culture where women are expected to wait till they are
chosen, wooed, and courted. Sadly, a woman in love has no choice but to
hide her heart and pine away, it seems. Or does she?
Or can she do something about it, and more importantly, have a hope of success?
Reason vs. Emotion
If you are, in fact, in love or simply in “crush” (it really doesn’t
matter which), make sure that your reasons are, well…reasonable. It
can’t be just because he’s a Ricky Martin look-alike or because he has
great abs and pecs. The assumption is that you know your target well
enough to believe that you and he will get along. You and he like the
same things or his sense of humor is exactly like yours or he values
his family in just the same way that you do. This is being rational,
rather than emotional. Being rational will serve you well in your
pursuit of his love.
Have good reasons for the state of your heart and you will achieve success.
A Matter of Male Cluelessness
It’s a matter of perspective. One way to look at it is this: It’s not
so much that you are in love with someone who does not love you. It’s
that someone does not as yet know that you are there for him to love.
Men
can be sort of clueless about affairs of the heart and matters of
compatibility. Like many species in the animal kingdom, they go for
shiny objects, things that are brightly colored and move around a lot.
They will incline themselves toward the objectively pretty, obviously
attractive women. Many don’t even give a thought initially to
personality—letting the physical attraction lead the way, often to
dismal ends.
Look at it this way: All you’re doing is giving him a clue or two to solving the mystery of you.
All’s Fair in Love
The reason why
many girls fail to get their guy to like them is they count on it too
much. You might say like Renee Zellwegger said in the film, Jerry Maguire:
“But I love him!” Truth is, you don’t. You are in severe “crush”—you do
not know yet if you love him. You just think that you might be able to.
An entirely different thing, trust me.
The mindset
you should have? That all is fair in the game of love. In short: Don’t
put all your emotional eggs in one man’s basket. The only way you stand
a chance at winning him is if you will be able to stand it in case you
lose him. This is not about your heart’s lifelong happiness. All this
is is a sporting effort at making a guy see how wonderful you are.
Throw
out the notion that this is the one and only man for you. Yes, this
could be the one…or he could be just the one of many. On the offchance
that he isn’t, there will be others. This has to be your frame of heart
and mind before you embark on this quest.
There are
no guarantees but there’s also no law against trying to win the
affections of a seemingly indifferent man. What’s more, not a few women
have succeeded and reaped rewards.
A Word of Warning
There are men out there who are especially suspicious of women who
“like them first.” (They may even be reading this article). Some are
even jerky enough to disdain the women and look down on them—a mark of
insecurity, if ever there was one (“If I don’t need to make her like
me, there must be something wrong with her.”). They want someone who is
elusive. They yearn for the thrill of the chase. They don’t want a
“sure thing.” Not all of them are like that: a few are painfully shy,
nerdy, or torpe …but goodness knows, there are enough out
there of the other kind. Which makes your safest course of action
playing it cool. Yes, your heart may be skipping fiery beats…but as you
go through the guidelines below, remember that all that’s going on in
your heart and mind should never be apparent in any way, shape, or form
to the outside world.
Bottomline: You like him. Give him the option of liking you back.
Here’s How: The Get-Him-to-Like-You Manual
1. Stay in his line of vision. Gina, 30, now married to her guy, told us what she did to “make him
realize I was the one.” “I knew there were prettier girls than me—that
wasn’t the issue. Kung saan siya, nandun ako—kunwari, pinakamaganda ako.
At the same time, I also acted oblivious as though he wasn’t even
there.” Gina’s point being, he can’t discover how wonderful you are
unless he sees you. So be seen.
2. Let him see the nurturing you.
We are the fairer sex because we are nurturing. It goes back to the
fact that biologically, we can be mothers. Remember: all men first fell
in love with their mothers. Very important: nurture like a mother,
never act like one. Says Russell Wild, author of Why Men Marry
(Contemporary, 1999), “Men consistently list nurturing as one of the
prime qualities they look for in a partner.” Any man loves it when a
woman pampers him, whether it’s by fixing him dinner or fixing his
hair.”
Does this mean you should nurture him?
Definitely not. Simply show that you are nurturing by being caring
towards everyone—your friends, your family, him included.
Says
Lulu who won the heart of her college crush: “When it was raining, I
was genuinely concerned about whether he had an umbrella or not to go
to class in another building. You know naman how guys are. So I lent him mine. If I had baon
and I was eating in our org, I’d ask him and his group if they had
eaten yet.” Naturally, it’s got to be sincere. Fake nurturing is
nothing but fake and will not get you anywhere.
3. Show your assets. You have a
talent. A clear strength. You’re a great dancer. Or you’re a good
communicator. You might be an athlete. Find that and don’t make it a
secret. Nothing turns a guy on more than a girl who’s good at what she
does: whatever it is. Jam, 28, shares how she won the heart of her
crush when their office had caroling. “It was a lot of fun because I
love singing…and modesty aside, I’m rather good. After a while, I knew
that he was listening to me. After a week, he told me I sang like an
angel. Four weeks later, we were dating, and he was calling me his
angel.”
4. Act and be beautiful—for the world at large.
As world renown makeup artist and head of her own cosmetics company,
Bobbi Brown says: Confidence is the great beautifier. So do all you can
to be beautiful…then act as though you are. Says Trina, 30, “You may
not be the most beautiful girl in the world, but who says you can’t act
like it? When you consciously radiate beauty, it soon becomes
unconscious. Think of it as casting a net for the world and if he
chooses to fall for the bait, then great.”
Mara,
23, agrees with this. The best part, she says, is when guys other than
your guy start venturing near you—then he sees it and thinks, wait a
minute, who’s this? “Parang, wow, it’s so powerful to be a girl.”
5. Act completely unaware of his existence.
A follow-up on #1, just because it’s so key. Like Gina, you must be
oblivious. You don’t see him. You don’t know he’s watching. And as you
go about your business, whether it’s work or play, give your best.
Remember…oblivious, elusive, mysterious. Ninety-nine percent of the
time, act like he does not even exist…then every now and then, flash
him a “look-at-me” look…a mixture of surprise and pleasure that he is
there after all.
6. Always have a lot of carefree fun—and look it.
Men are scared off by women who are out for a serious committed
relationship with the promise of a wedding ring after two years.
Besides, girls, all you want is for him to fall for you: You don’t
really know if you want the whole banana. Take it one step at a time.
You are out to show him how much fun it is to be with you. Says Josey
Vogels, author of Dating: A Survival Guide from the Frontlines (Adams Media, 1999), “The more fun and carefree you are, the more likely you are to be noticed by men with that same mindset.”
7. Be feminine but be a friend. Keep within the lines of being friendly like a pal but still being feminine like a woman.
Mona,
32, a freelance writer, fell for her client and at first, she was
painfully conscious of it. Her prim-and-proper, Catholic school girl
mode kicked in. “I was suplada, professional, and totally
uninterested. I remember after our first meeting, he offered to carry
my stuff to my car and I hurriedly said, no thanks—I can do it.” No
surprise, the guy treated her like a freelance writer.
“When
he called me to do a second project, I changed my tactics. I was
friendlier…and I was feminine with just the lightest touch. After we
wrapped up that project, he asked me out.”
8. There are other guys in the picture.
Even if there are no other guys in the picture, you should be a busy
woman with people to see and places to go. He doesn’t have to now that
you’re nights out with Carlo are mainly food trips to his boyfriend’s
restaurant. Remember, guys cannot help but want someone who is wanted,
who has stuff going on. If all you are doing is hanging around
him…well, that’s not going to get you anywhere.
9. Stake out common interests.
Treat him like a real person and not the man of your dreams. In other
words, use every conversation to get to know him better, the way you
get to know any other friend. You find out you both like the same
music: ask to borrow his latest CD. You find out he watches tennis the
way you do: offer him your taped video of the last Wimbledon match. If
he reads the way you do, bring in your copy of the latest Stephen King
and wave it in his face. He’ll ask to borrow it, you’ll tell him: “Not
till I’m done with it.” Afterwards, talk about it over a cup of coffee
the way you would any other friend.
10. Don’t forget your passion and never neglect your life.
Do not drop your life. This is a goal you have set for yourself much
like deciding to eat healthier or deciding to revamp your career. Other
aspects of your life should not fall to the wayside. You are you
because of all these things. He will not want you if you drop your life
for him.
The Bonus Tip: As Ally McBeal says, it’s
really all about attitude. In everything you do, act like you are
loveable and you will be. And should this guy fail to notice…toss your
head and look elsewhere. Some other guy just might.
The Nature of the Dilemma
It happens all the time. The quintessential drama that young, and perhaps
not so young, women find themselves in. They encounter a man and they
fall in love. For some it may happen instantly…for others, it may take
weeks, even months to develop. But the final result is precisely that:
she is in love, he isn’t—not with her, anyway.
Yes,
it feels dire, desperate, and hopeless…particularly in this staunchly
conservative culture where women are expected to wait till they are
chosen, wooed, and courted. Sadly, a woman in love has no choice but to
hide her heart and pine away, it seems. Or does she?
Or can she do something about it, and more importantly, have a hope of success?
Reason vs. Emotion
If you are, in fact, in love or simply in “crush” (it really doesn’t
matter which), make sure that your reasons are, well…reasonable. It
can’t be just because he’s a Ricky Martin look-alike or because he has
great abs and pecs. The assumption is that you know your target well
enough to believe that you and he will get along. You and he like the
same things or his sense of humor is exactly like yours or he values
his family in just the same way that you do. This is being rational,
rather than emotional. Being rational will serve you well in your
pursuit of his love.
Have good reasons for the state of your heart and you will achieve success.
A Matter of Male Cluelessness
It’s a matter of perspective. One way to look at it is this: It’s not
so much that you are in love with someone who does not love you. It’s
that someone does not as yet know that you are there for him to love.
Men
can be sort of clueless about affairs of the heart and matters of
compatibility. Like many species in the animal kingdom, they go for
shiny objects, things that are brightly colored and move around a lot.
They will incline themselves toward the objectively pretty, obviously
attractive women. Many don’t even give a thought initially to
personality—letting the physical attraction lead the way, often to
dismal ends.
Look at it this way: All you’re doing is giving him a clue or two to solving the mystery of you.
All’s Fair in Love
The reason why
many girls fail to get their guy to like them is they count on it too
much. You might say like Renee Zellwegger said in the film, Jerry Maguire:
“But I love him!” Truth is, you don’t. You are in severe “crush”—you do
not know yet if you love him. You just think that you might be able to.
An entirely different thing, trust me.
The mindset
you should have? That all is fair in the game of love. In short: Don’t
put all your emotional eggs in one man’s basket. The only way you stand
a chance at winning him is if you will be able to stand it in case you
lose him. This is not about your heart’s lifelong happiness. All this
is is a sporting effort at making a guy see how wonderful you are.
Throw
out the notion that this is the one and only man for you. Yes, this
could be the one…or he could be just the one of many. On the offchance
that he isn’t, there will be others. This has to be your frame of heart
and mind before you embark on this quest.
There are
no guarantees but there’s also no law against trying to win the
affections of a seemingly indifferent man. What’s more, not a few women
have succeeded and reaped rewards.
A Word of Warning
There are men out there who are especially suspicious of women who
“like them first.” (They may even be reading this article). Some are
even jerky enough to disdain the women and look down on them—a mark of
insecurity, if ever there was one (“If I don’t need to make her like
me, there must be something wrong with her.”). They want someone who is
elusive. They yearn for the thrill of the chase. They don’t want a
“sure thing.” Not all of them are like that: a few are painfully shy,
nerdy, or torpe …but goodness knows, there are enough out
there of the other kind. Which makes your safest course of action
playing it cool. Yes, your heart may be skipping fiery beats…but as you
go through the guidelines below, remember that all that’s going on in
your heart and mind should never be apparent in any way, shape, or form
to the outside world.
Bottomline: You like him. Give him the option of liking you back.
Here’s How: The Get-Him-to-Like-You Manual
1. Stay in his line of vision. Gina, 30, now married to her guy, told us what she did to “make him
realize I was the one.” “I knew there were prettier girls than me—that
wasn’t the issue. Kung saan siya, nandun ako—kunwari, pinakamaganda ako.
At the same time, I also acted oblivious as though he wasn’t even
there.” Gina’s point being, he can’t discover how wonderful you are
unless he sees you. So be seen.
2. Let him see the nurturing you.
We are the fairer sex because we are nurturing. It goes back to the
fact that biologically, we can be mothers. Remember: all men first fell
in love with their mothers. Very important: nurture like a mother,
never act like one. Says Russell Wild, author of Why Men Marry
(Contemporary, 1999), “Men consistently list nurturing as one of the
prime qualities they look for in a partner.” Any man loves it when a
woman pampers him, whether it’s by fixing him dinner or fixing his
hair.”
Does this mean you should nurture him?
Definitely not. Simply show that you are nurturing by being caring
towards everyone—your friends, your family, him included.
Says
Lulu who won the heart of her college crush: “When it was raining, I
was genuinely concerned about whether he had an umbrella or not to go
to class in another building. You know naman how guys are. So I lent him mine. If I had baon
and I was eating in our org, I’d ask him and his group if they had
eaten yet.” Naturally, it’s got to be sincere. Fake nurturing is
nothing but fake and will not get you anywhere.
3. Show your assets. You have a
talent. A clear strength. You’re a great dancer. Or you’re a good
communicator. You might be an athlete. Find that and don’t make it a
secret. Nothing turns a guy on more than a girl who’s good at what she
does: whatever it is. Jam, 28, shares how she won the heart of her
crush when their office had caroling. “It was a lot of fun because I
love singing…and modesty aside, I’m rather good. After a while, I knew
that he was listening to me. After a week, he told me I sang like an
angel. Four weeks later, we were dating, and he was calling me his
angel.”
4. Act and be beautiful—for the world at large.
As world renown makeup artist and head of her own cosmetics company,
Bobbi Brown says: Confidence is the great beautifier. So do all you can
to be beautiful…then act as though you are. Says Trina, 30, “You may
not be the most beautiful girl in the world, but who says you can’t act
like it? When you consciously radiate beauty, it soon becomes
unconscious. Think of it as casting a net for the world and if he
chooses to fall for the bait, then great.”
Mara,
23, agrees with this. The best part, she says, is when guys other than
your guy start venturing near you—then he sees it and thinks, wait a
minute, who’s this? “Parang, wow, it’s so powerful to be a girl.”
5. Act completely unaware of his existence.
A follow-up on #1, just because it’s so key. Like Gina, you must be
oblivious. You don’t see him. You don’t know he’s watching. And as you
go about your business, whether it’s work or play, give your best.
Remember…oblivious, elusive, mysterious. Ninety-nine percent of the
time, act like he does not even exist…then every now and then, flash
him a “look-at-me” look…a mixture of surprise and pleasure that he is
there after all.
6. Always have a lot of carefree fun—and look it.
Men are scared off by women who are out for a serious committed
relationship with the promise of a wedding ring after two years.
Besides, girls, all you want is for him to fall for you: You don’t
really know if you want the whole banana. Take it one step at a time.
You are out to show him how much fun it is to be with you. Says Josey
Vogels, author of Dating: A Survival Guide from the Frontlines (Adams Media, 1999), “The more fun and carefree you are, the more likely you are to be noticed by men with that same mindset.”
7. Be feminine but be a friend. Keep within the lines of being friendly like a pal but still being feminine like a woman.
Mona,
32, a freelance writer, fell for her client and at first, she was
painfully conscious of it. Her prim-and-proper, Catholic school girl
mode kicked in. “I was suplada, professional, and totally
uninterested. I remember after our first meeting, he offered to carry
my stuff to my car and I hurriedly said, no thanks—I can do it.” No
surprise, the guy treated her like a freelance writer.
“When
he called me to do a second project, I changed my tactics. I was
friendlier…and I was feminine with just the lightest touch. After we
wrapped up that project, he asked me out.”
8. There are other guys in the picture.
Even if there are no other guys in the picture, you should be a busy
woman with people to see and places to go. He doesn’t have to now that
you’re nights out with Carlo are mainly food trips to his boyfriend’s
restaurant. Remember, guys cannot help but want someone who is wanted,
who has stuff going on. If all you are doing is hanging around
him…well, that’s not going to get you anywhere.
9. Stake out common interests.
Treat him like a real person and not the man of your dreams. In other
words, use every conversation to get to know him better, the way you
get to know any other friend. You find out you both like the same
music: ask to borrow his latest CD. You find out he watches tennis the
way you do: offer him your taped video of the last Wimbledon match. If
he reads the way you do, bring in your copy of the latest Stephen King
and wave it in his face. He’ll ask to borrow it, you’ll tell him: “Not
till I’m done with it.” Afterwards, talk about it over a cup of coffee
the way you would any other friend.
10. Don’t forget your passion and never neglect your life.
Do not drop your life. This is a goal you have set for yourself much
like deciding to eat healthier or deciding to revamp your career. Other
aspects of your life should not fall to the wayside. You are you
because of all these things. He will not want you if you drop your life
for him.
The Bonus Tip: As Ally McBeal says, it’s
really all about attitude. In everything you do, act like you are
loveable and you will be. And should this guy fail to notice…toss your
head and look elsewhere. Some other guy just might.
Silver Teardrop II
July 25th, 2007
There was nothing that ceases to quiver a bond that was determined. Anchored and stubborn, she stood her ground. Her face wavered, from gray to gold to black. An uncertain oath of frustration and surrender. But how relentless the waves could be, just relentless would be her conviction as well. He still lay there, folding his fingers with hers though he was confusingly senile. An old amateur of what he’s gone through. She could not feed him through her plastic spoons, knowing he’d bite it off. The wind howled in pain and involuntary, leaves flew off towards an unknown course. She coveted their apathetic role, hoping she could also fly away like the rest of them. He responded with meek sorrow, and her defiance gave way. The ground beneath them quaked, just as a stray splinter marred a long strip off her skin, it muted both of them. This would not allow her to let go, as she stared deep into his eyes, a silver tear escaped her eye. He held her close as she shattered in muffled sobs. They’ve tasted dust and wind over their parched mouths. A rhapsodic ordeal. Many would still come, but she held on tightly; unrelenting and ready.
There was nothing that ceases to quiver a bond that was determined. Anchored and stubborn, she stood her ground. Her face wavered, from gray to gold to black. An uncertain oath of frustration and surrender. But how relentless the waves could be, just relentless would be her conviction as well. He still lay there, folding his fingers with hers though he was confusingly senile. An old amateur of what he’s gone through. She could not feed him through her plastic spoons, knowing he’d bite it off. The wind howled in pain and involuntary, leaves flew off towards an unknown course. She coveted their apathetic role, hoping she could also fly away like the rest of them. He responded with meek sorrow, and her defiance gave way. The ground beneath them quaked, just as a stray splinter marred a long strip off her skin, it muted both of them. This would not allow her to let go, as she stared deep into his eyes, a silver tear escaped her eye. He held her close as she shattered in muffled sobs. They’ve tasted dust and wind over their parched mouths. A rhapsodic ordeal. Many would still come, but she held on tightly; unrelenting and ready.
Glory Box
July 25th, 2007
I am a bottle of confusion and stored mementos. I push people to talk and voluntarily take that prick off their hearts. I cry for most of them and I give nothing but an ear and pity. I learn from people. It is through their sounds of fear, loneliness, and discomforts that I’ve found my courage from. I am human enough to wince in pain if my hands got caught in a door jamb or even hear my stomach growl if I am hungry. I never created my facade to be invincible and unable to yield to real life’s pains. People needs to be comforted. A simple hug soothes the person’s being, making him fragile and wanted. Sometimes, sanctuary is not what they need. They hide and build secrets to avoid getting hurt and unwanted OR they don’t want anyone to get hurt.
I am a bottle of confusion and stored mementos. I push people to talk and voluntarily take that prick off their hearts. I cry for most of them and I give nothing but an ear and pity. I learn from people. It is through their sounds of fear, loneliness, and discomforts that I’ve found my courage from. I am human enough to wince in pain if my hands got caught in a door jamb or even hear my stomach growl if I am hungry. I never created my facade to be invincible and unable to yield to real life’s pains. People needs to be comforted. A simple hug soothes the person’s being, making him fragile and wanted. Sometimes, sanctuary is not what they need. They hide and build secrets to avoid getting hurt and unwanted OR they don’t want anyone to get hurt.
Wired and Weird
July 16th, 2007
The crazy savage in me, bent up and tired from waiting for an approaching guest. I chose to download YouTubes of 28 weeks later to get that freaky feeling like my toes are being ripped off my feet. It was the greatest kiss and it did brought out the blood and mess. I was pleading that it was gory enough for me and nasty Jeff kept on mimicking the lusty screams. Zombies are never my thing and to see them pick up their pace and run like sane human beings is so creepy. In a Heartbeat made a crazy impact and I wanted to scratch my ears because the dragging sound of the composition left my heart thinking about killing someone. The movie reminded me a lot of Silent Hill that we’ve chosen to rent the CD, burrowed ourselves in his bed and never got out of the room until we’d get to see the ghastly characters from gray nurses to the pyramid-faced creature. Utterly weird but these things came out of our dreams once or twice. Different forms and different sizes but they came and gnawed over our brains until we’ll get sick of it.
The crazy savage in me, bent up and tired from waiting for an approaching guest. I chose to download YouTubes of 28 weeks later to get that freaky feeling like my toes are being ripped off my feet. It was the greatest kiss and it did brought out the blood and mess. I was pleading that it was gory enough for me and nasty Jeff kept on mimicking the lusty screams. Zombies are never my thing and to see them pick up their pace and run like sane human beings is so creepy. In a Heartbeat made a crazy impact and I wanted to scratch my ears because the dragging sound of the composition left my heart thinking about killing someone. The movie reminded me a lot of Silent Hill that we’ve chosen to rent the CD, burrowed ourselves in his bed and never got out of the room until we’d get to see the ghastly characters from gray nurses to the pyramid-faced creature. Utterly weird but these things came out of our dreams once or twice. Different forms and different sizes but they came and gnawed over our brains until we’ll get sick of it.
47 Reasons That Really Hurts
July 13th, 2007
1. Letting go of a person you’ve
learned and decided to love
.
2. Reminiscing the good and bad times
you shared together.
3. Shielding your heart to love somebody
.
4. Trying to hide what you really feel.
5. Trying to hide the tears that
involuntarily fall from your eyes.
6. Loving a person too much.
7. Giving up someone you never thought
of giving up.
8. Having the right love at the wrong
time.
9. Taking the risk to fall in love again.
10. Hiding your relationship from
someone else.
11. Controlling your feelings to avoid
hurting a friend.
12. Thinking of him/her every waking
and sleeping moment knowing all the
while that he/she never even thinks a
single thought of you.
13.Letting go, because every time you
see the person, you only fall deeper.
14. Holding back only to find out when
its too late, you both felt the same
way, but were only scared to lose each
other so much that you didn’t let the
feelings out
.
15. Falling in love with someone you
didn’t mean to fall in love with
.
16. Finding the perfect girl/man - with
only one problem - he/she doesn’t love
you.
17. Helping the one you love to court
your friend.
18. Seeing the one you love crying for
someone else.
19. The waiting also hurts like h e l l.
20. Having to hear he’s met someone.
21. Agreeing to his/her wish to just be
friends.
22. Asking him/her freedom back so
he/shed be happier with him/her.
23. Asking you to forget that
everything happened and be normal
friends again.
24. Hearing that you’re treated as a
brother/sister (ouch!).
25. Sharing his/her future plans for
the guy/gal with you.
26. You stopped being friends cuz
his/her bf/gf asked him/her to.
27. Being denied in front of people.
28. Telling you lies where he/shed been
when actually he/she was with a new
friend or an old flame.
29. He/she told you he/shed be leaving
you to return to his/her ex.
30. Breaking someone’s heart.
31. Fighting for that one thing that
would make you happy.
32. That is, holding to a person who
can not guarantee you his/her
commitment unless he/she fix
him/herself - then you are left hanging
for the moment - then he/she says, time
will tell.. ang labo niya;.but you
still decided to hope in him/her and
trust him/her.
33. Pretending you’re ok when inside
you’re dying.
34. Pretending to be strong and
recognizing your weakness lying in bed
each night, thinking of that special
person you can never have.
35. Being with someone you cant
actually love.
36. Pretending you don’t love a person
whom you actually love.
37. Being in love.
39. Seeing the person you love hurt
because of you and not being able to
help that person
.
40. Having the courage to say I LOVE
YOU to the person you love and finding
out afterwards that things will never
be same again when he doesn’t treat you
with the same closeness as before
.
41. Having to face the fact that
someone is capable of completely
destroying the wall that you built for
yourself, leaving you weak and
vulnerable.
42. Admitting that you love someone
despite her imperfections.
43. Finding out the more you try to
hate him/her, the more you end up
loving him/her, perhaps even more than
before.
44. Realizing how stupid your mistakes
were that led to your break-up.
45. The thought that this boy/girl used
to really love you and you loved
him/her as well but you didn’t give
enough that she/he gave up on you.
46. Sharing the one you love with
somebody else.
47. Realizing you were only a pill he
took for his broken heart, not to
satisfy a healthy heart nor longing for you..
in other words being used.
1. Letting go of a person you’ve
learned and decided to love
.
2. Reminiscing the good and bad times
you shared together.
3. Shielding your heart to love somebody
.
4. Trying to hide what you really feel.
5. Trying to hide the tears that
involuntarily fall from your eyes.
6. Loving a person too much.
7. Giving up someone you never thought
of giving up.
8. Having the right love at the wrong
time.
9. Taking the risk to fall in love again.
10. Hiding your relationship from
someone else.
11. Controlling your feelings to avoid
hurting a friend.
12. Thinking of him/her every waking
and sleeping moment knowing all the
while that he/she never even thinks a
single thought of you.
13.Letting go, because every time you
see the person, you only fall deeper.
14. Holding back only to find out when
its too late, you both felt the same
way, but were only scared to lose each
other so much that you didn’t let the
feelings out
.
15. Falling in love with someone you
didn’t mean to fall in love with
.
16. Finding the perfect girl/man - with
only one problem - he/she doesn’t love
you.
17. Helping the one you love to court
your friend.
18. Seeing the one you love crying for
someone else.
19. The waiting also hurts like h e l l.
20. Having to hear he’s met someone.
21. Agreeing to his/her wish to just be
friends.
22. Asking him/her freedom back so
he/shed be happier with him/her.
23. Asking you to forget that
everything happened and be normal
friends again.
24. Hearing that you’re treated as a
brother/sister (ouch!).
25. Sharing his/her future plans for
the guy/gal with you.
26. You stopped being friends cuz
his/her bf/gf asked him/her to.
27. Being denied in front of people.
28. Telling you lies where he/shed been
when actually he/she was with a new
friend or an old flame.
29. He/she told you he/shed be leaving
you to return to his/her ex.
30. Breaking someone’s heart.
31. Fighting for that one thing that
would make you happy.
32. That is, holding to a person who
can not guarantee you his/her
commitment unless he/she fix
him/herself - then you are left hanging
for the moment - then he/she says, time
will tell.. ang labo niya;.but you
still decided to hope in him/her and
trust him/her.
33. Pretending you’re ok when inside
you’re dying.
34. Pretending to be strong and
recognizing your weakness lying in bed
each night, thinking of that special
person you can never have.
35. Being with someone you cant
actually love.
36. Pretending you don’t love a person
whom you actually love.
37. Being in love.
39. Seeing the person you love hurt
because of you and not being able to
help that person
.
40. Having the courage to say I LOVE
YOU to the person you love and finding
out afterwards that things will never
be same again when he doesn’t treat you
with the same closeness as before
.
41. Having to face the fact that
someone is capable of completely
destroying the wall that you built for
yourself, leaving you weak and
vulnerable.
42. Admitting that you love someone
despite her imperfections.
43. Finding out the more you try to
hate him/her, the more you end up
loving him/her, perhaps even more than
before.
44. Realizing how stupid your mistakes
were that led to your break-up.
45. The thought that this boy/girl used
to really love you and you loved
him/her as well but you didn’t give
enough that she/he gave up on you.
46. Sharing the one you love with
somebody else.
47. Realizing you were only a pill he
took for his broken heart, not to
satisfy a healthy heart nor longing for you..
in other words being used.
Rage over Bangus Belly
July 7th, 2007
My eye bags are puffed out and I’d accidentally witnessed the mating of two lizards on our dining table. The house is eerily silent and I’m left alone to vent out the feeling of loneliness. I am not into doing the TV Marathon thing just to simmer up. The wind offered only a minute comfort when I’m sitting inside this room. I just got out to break away from the sudden muscle spasms I’m having and head splitting headache. I am really bored. I could only say work is nothing but a sinister alliance. I am fortunate I still have it over my shoulders but I’m outrageously mad with my unchanged schedule. I’m practically over the depths of being dead from having to burden myself with my system proposal and not having enough time to take a trip to down-to-where-that-place-may-be for my subject for the proposal. The City Public Library did me no luck although I was beginning to love its ambiance. Now, I’m deciding on going to my Alma Mater (CCS) to snoop over its book center and probably could plant out a problem from it’s current system.
This is what I hate most: I am not a dedicated programmer and I’ve long decided not to be one forever. I’ve almost wanted to quit, if it hadn’t been to the unending support from my workmates, I wouldn’t have budged from submitting my unfinal proposal. I have to play active so as my professor wouldn’t think of me slacking around. Now, I am to work again at eight o’clock sharp at night, I’d be dead beat by four-thirty o’clock in the morning. Do you think I’d still get the time to take a trip to my school to give my professor some updates? Hell, no! I’ve been cramming for too much patience and optimism. I am so tired but I don’t want to get this in my way. Got too much in my mind for my future, and I don’t want to be left off by tomorrow’s train. Here I am, on the verge of being the person who isn’t really good at finishing things. Probably this is what I was trying to prove, not the relentless act of being the estranged daughter but rather the satisfaction over conquering my fear of having to succeed. I am a walking mouth of bitterness, I am not frightened in saying what I have in mind out loud but I am a complete loser when it comes to my wants. Now that it got me awake (AGAIN), I’d have to tightly close my eyes to cross the thread for a bridge.
Bangus belly, in case you’d be wondering about it. It has been served on our tables since last week and I’m bloated!
My eye bags are puffed out and I’d accidentally witnessed the mating of two lizards on our dining table. The house is eerily silent and I’m left alone to vent out the feeling of loneliness. I am not into doing the TV Marathon thing just to simmer up. The wind offered only a minute comfort when I’m sitting inside this room. I just got out to break away from the sudden muscle spasms I’m having and head splitting headache. I am really bored. I could only say work is nothing but a sinister alliance. I am fortunate I still have it over my shoulders but I’m outrageously mad with my unchanged schedule. I’m practically over the depths of being dead from having to burden myself with my system proposal and not having enough time to take a trip to down-to-where-that-place-may-be for my subject for the proposal. The City Public Library did me no luck although I was beginning to love its ambiance. Now, I’m deciding on going to my Alma Mater (CCS) to snoop over its book center and probably could plant out a problem from it’s current system.
This is what I hate most: I am not a dedicated programmer and I’ve long decided not to be one forever. I’ve almost wanted to quit, if it hadn’t been to the unending support from my workmates, I wouldn’t have budged from submitting my unfinal proposal. I have to play active so as my professor wouldn’t think of me slacking around. Now, I am to work again at eight o’clock sharp at night, I’d be dead beat by four-thirty o’clock in the morning. Do you think I’d still get the time to take a trip to my school to give my professor some updates? Hell, no! I’ve been cramming for too much patience and optimism. I am so tired but I don’t want to get this in my way. Got too much in my mind for my future, and I don’t want to be left off by tomorrow’s train. Here I am, on the verge of being the person who isn’t really good at finishing things. Probably this is what I was trying to prove, not the relentless act of being the estranged daughter but rather the satisfaction over conquering my fear of having to succeed. I am a walking mouth of bitterness, I am not frightened in saying what I have in mind out loud but I am a complete loser when it comes to my wants. Now that it got me awake (AGAIN), I’d have to tightly close my eyes to cross the thread for a bridge.
Bangus belly, in case you’d be wondering about it. It has been served on our tables since last week and I’m bloated!
A Typical Monday Afternoon
June 18th, 2007
As usual, I’ve tucked myself at my grandma’s home. I’m nearly torn about thinking about my poor dog, Dao. He’s getting weak according to my sister. Although I’ve cried myself to sleep yesterday, I’d hang on to the thought that he’d be okay. He should be okay. His taller-than-mine body is packed with muscles and his large paws could easily trample me to the ground. I can’t think of the inevitable if he’d really die on me. I’ve always set my wishful thinking that I’d go home soon and see his tail wag in delight. I’m testing our distance and I’m testing our time.
Apart from my fictitious comfort at this time, I’ve done gobbling up two ripe mangoes and still feel restless. I’ve slept half of my day yesterday after the escapade I and Jeff had composed as we headed for the beach around 5 in the morning. Spread out an ample size of banig under our bodies, feasted over slices of JRJ fried chickens and doused our thirst over Mountain Dew and pineapple juice. It was naturally Sunday and obviously, you’d be expecting a crowded spot. But I think it wasn’t that crowded for we’ve forsaken our things for a while to go get a dip in the wide water. My skin was nearly singing but I was bested over Jeff’s grunts that I’d look funny if I’d continue to do so — baked skin is not for me. Okay, cut the crap, we made a trip to the movie house since Fantastic 4’s on the lot’s watch list. I don’t know what came into me, I was dead beat after the adventure.
I was suppose to go to school today to ask for my professor’s help for me to do an interview with the right personnel from the school’s Accounting Department. But I’d stayed at home and lingered with the music and television to play lazy. Crazed myself on thinking I’d make my Payroll System on them. Blast! I’ve forgotten how to do to any programming and I’m apparently biting over my finger nails on how I am going to nail this System Proposal thingie the second time. Somewhat, it had breached my lack of confidence to finish things. I surely do have heaps of unfinished things.
Five hours from now, Jeff would be at the doorstep and six hours from now, I’d be dawdling around the office’s Linksys products. I’ve got me a head full of ideas but they’re mixed up. I’d be at work again which simply means, I’d consider burrowing out a part of my brain to have it filled with new topics from our instructor. Upgrading your job description gives you the muscle spasms and huge yawns. I am not just sitting around, I’m learning but halfway through it, I drift to dreamland. Working my ass but I badly want to give myself some long trip off the island… and this is what makes everything crazy.
As usual, I’ve tucked myself at my grandma’s home. I’m nearly torn about thinking about my poor dog, Dao. He’s getting weak according to my sister. Although I’ve cried myself to sleep yesterday, I’d hang on to the thought that he’d be okay. He should be okay. His taller-than-mine body is packed with muscles and his large paws could easily trample me to the ground. I can’t think of the inevitable if he’d really die on me. I’ve always set my wishful thinking that I’d go home soon and see his tail wag in delight. I’m testing our distance and I’m testing our time.
Apart from my fictitious comfort at this time, I’ve done gobbling up two ripe mangoes and still feel restless. I’ve slept half of my day yesterday after the escapade I and Jeff had composed as we headed for the beach around 5 in the morning. Spread out an ample size of banig under our bodies, feasted over slices of JRJ fried chickens and doused our thirst over Mountain Dew and pineapple juice. It was naturally Sunday and obviously, you’d be expecting a crowded spot. But I think it wasn’t that crowded for we’ve forsaken our things for a while to go get a dip in the wide water. My skin was nearly singing but I was bested over Jeff’s grunts that I’d look funny if I’d continue to do so — baked skin is not for me. Okay, cut the crap, we made a trip to the movie house since Fantastic 4’s on the lot’s watch list. I don’t know what came into me, I was dead beat after the adventure.
I was suppose to go to school today to ask for my professor’s help for me to do an interview with the right personnel from the school’s Accounting Department. But I’d stayed at home and lingered with the music and television to play lazy. Crazed myself on thinking I’d make my Payroll System on them. Blast! I’ve forgotten how to do to any programming and I’m apparently biting over my finger nails on how I am going to nail this System Proposal thingie the second time. Somewhat, it had breached my lack of confidence to finish things. I surely do have heaps of unfinished things.
Five hours from now, Jeff would be at the doorstep and six hours from now, I’d be dawdling around the office’s Linksys products. I’ve got me a head full of ideas but they’re mixed up. I’d be at work again which simply means, I’d consider burrowing out a part of my brain to have it filled with new topics from our instructor. Upgrading your job description gives you the muscle spasms and huge yawns. I am not just sitting around, I’m learning but halfway through it, I drift to dreamland. Working my ass but I badly want to give myself some long trip off the island… and this is what makes everything crazy.
Pain and Pleasure
June 11th, 2007
"Narcissists cannot think about other people.
Obsessive-compulsives cannot think about the big picture.
Passive-dependent people cannot think for themselves." – M.D. Peck
I continue to grieve but it was grief over missing something I don’t know. I never teach people to loathe whoever left them. I listen to what I never really wanted to hear. Such a big heart and a big mind I hold. I feared listening to what they have to share but instinctively, I detach myself for a moment. Perhaps, I was born to listen.
Like a cat that never whimpered when wounded, I bent down to nurse the grazed skin. Blood mingled with saliva. Salt and metallic and bland. It was a silent moment of an unknown compact.
Swept off by the humid air, with the scented incense sticks’ playful circling along it, I met the low jingling of the chimes above my head; acknowledging my pausing to sip water from the glass in front of me. I was torn between thinking freely and sulking. This instance is not new. I’ve realized that having to many ideas to feed on a topic gets you in trouble. Indulging yourself with what the truth is is unacceptable. People live in lies, in fact my parents live in lies, too (if you really wanted a confirmation). We have to play along instead to coexist with the normals. What is being normal exactly? Is it having to think, act and follow every rule of living your life as it has been lived by the society on God knows what date it was? People have become what they’ve become today by their own means. It doesn’t have to mean that you’re richer that him, you’ve made the greater progress with your life. If I could rip your heart open, are you up to see the truth? But it isn’t the heart that feels actually. There is no such thing as thinking over your mind or heart. It is the brain that impulsively sends out reactions on what you presently feel. We can’t seem to speak for others. The greatest help we could give is simply be a listener and converse in a way that you won’t distract them from what they’ve been used to. It is up to them to crawl out of what they want off their skin. The paradox of our being righteous and accepted stems out from us, naturally. Illusions are what keeps us going. It is not the dream nor the wishes.
I will be returning to school this week, I’ve felt the first fear of what I should become after it. My last name doesn’t uphold a business tycoons’ nor an elitist’s. The conformity of talking with people keeps me up. An illusion of being responsible and needed by everyone. Is it bad? What is bad actually? As I come to know, the last days we’ll have would give us only one meaning for one word and heaven is not going to be a jeweled paradise nor gold pathways and gates. It is going to be a moment that we’ll soon understand what’s supposed to be the truth and we’ll end up blank and meaningless. It isn’t going to be a picturesque view of your retreat house.
As a few would come to me and talk about their hatred or boundless love towards a person, I’ve only gotten to realize that people indeed are dependent with each other. Not in conclusive to the "No man is an island" idiom. We relate to each other to live. Another given fact of illusion.
I was asked before to pick up the first letter of my name and give out an adjective starting with it. I — iconoclast, came out from my mouth within a second. She laughed and said, I am going to be a known "hard-headed" within the premises. I dared not to be even but I never thought I was cool since I was facing a sea of unknown faces and was responding to my superior. Inevitable to what’s to be expected, I’ve spoken what my brain has darted towards my mouth.
I’ve permitted crime my way and I was left unable to speak nor feel. It has shriveled my glowing independence as I have to remember the blade from the knife what was focused on my chest. Unwittingly, I’ve cried in defeat in my man’s arms. A noted reaction of the unprepared and almost dead. I share my own pains and pleasures but it gratifies me when people freely talk to me and I have to listen to them. Unknown by them, listening hypnotizes me into thinking what I should be thinking. May it be related to their qualms or not. It is then a brief prayer for myself.
To the people who dares looking down at people who considers themselves weak, you are cursed with loneliness. The fact that it is ideal for you to trample over someone else’s life "unintentionally" is the weakest alibi that you could formulate to let people see that you are strong. I could laugh at your face but you won’t see it from me but you’ll have it on your own reflection. It is your own bigotry that eats your subconscious mind.
I cannot justify that I am right but I am thinking.
"Narcissists cannot think about other people.
Obsessive-compulsives cannot think about the big picture.
Passive-dependent people cannot think for themselves." – M.D. Peck
I continue to grieve but it was grief over missing something I don’t know. I never teach people to loathe whoever left them. I listen to what I never really wanted to hear. Such a big heart and a big mind I hold. I feared listening to what they have to share but instinctively, I detach myself for a moment. Perhaps, I was born to listen.
Like a cat that never whimpered when wounded, I bent down to nurse the grazed skin. Blood mingled with saliva. Salt and metallic and bland. It was a silent moment of an unknown compact.
Swept off by the humid air, with the scented incense sticks’ playful circling along it, I met the low jingling of the chimes above my head; acknowledging my pausing to sip water from the glass in front of me. I was torn between thinking freely and sulking. This instance is not new. I’ve realized that having to many ideas to feed on a topic gets you in trouble. Indulging yourself with what the truth is is unacceptable. People live in lies, in fact my parents live in lies, too (if you really wanted a confirmation). We have to play along instead to coexist with the normals. What is being normal exactly? Is it having to think, act and follow every rule of living your life as it has been lived by the society on God knows what date it was? People have become what they’ve become today by their own means. It doesn’t have to mean that you’re richer that him, you’ve made the greater progress with your life. If I could rip your heart open, are you up to see the truth? But it isn’t the heart that feels actually. There is no such thing as thinking over your mind or heart. It is the brain that impulsively sends out reactions on what you presently feel. We can’t seem to speak for others. The greatest help we could give is simply be a listener and converse in a way that you won’t distract them from what they’ve been used to. It is up to them to crawl out of what they want off their skin. The paradox of our being righteous and accepted stems out from us, naturally. Illusions are what keeps us going. It is not the dream nor the wishes.
I will be returning to school this week, I’ve felt the first fear of what I should become after it. My last name doesn’t uphold a business tycoons’ nor an elitist’s. The conformity of talking with people keeps me up. An illusion of being responsible and needed by everyone. Is it bad? What is bad actually? As I come to know, the last days we’ll have would give us only one meaning for one word and heaven is not going to be a jeweled paradise nor gold pathways and gates. It is going to be a moment that we’ll soon understand what’s supposed to be the truth and we’ll end up blank and meaningless. It isn’t going to be a picturesque view of your retreat house.
As a few would come to me and talk about their hatred or boundless love towards a person, I’ve only gotten to realize that people indeed are dependent with each other. Not in conclusive to the "No man is an island" idiom. We relate to each other to live. Another given fact of illusion.
I was asked before to pick up the first letter of my name and give out an adjective starting with it. I — iconoclast, came out from my mouth within a second. She laughed and said, I am going to be a known "hard-headed" within the premises. I dared not to be even but I never thought I was cool since I was facing a sea of unknown faces and was responding to my superior. Inevitable to what’s to be expected, I’ve spoken what my brain has darted towards my mouth.
I’ve permitted crime my way and I was left unable to speak nor feel. It has shriveled my glowing independence as I have to remember the blade from the knife what was focused on my chest. Unwittingly, I’ve cried in defeat in my man’s arms. A noted reaction of the unprepared and almost dead. I share my own pains and pleasures but it gratifies me when people freely talk to me and I have to listen to them. Unknown by them, listening hypnotizes me into thinking what I should be thinking. May it be related to their qualms or not. It is then a brief prayer for myself.
To the people who dares looking down at people who considers themselves weak, you are cursed with loneliness. The fact that it is ideal for you to trample over someone else’s life "unintentionally" is the weakest alibi that you could formulate to let people see that you are strong. I could laugh at your face but you won’t see it from me but you’ll have it on your own reflection. It is your own bigotry that eats your subconscious mind.
I cannot justify that I am right but I am thinking.
I Don’t Like Wet Toilet Seats
June 5th, 2007
This sickening bile rises up my throat. Blast!
I couldn’t bear grunting in between the cramps I’m feeling right now. What the heck! Another one of those female phenomena.
Talk about female, what’s up with those red-eyed assholes?? This is not an feminist ad to start off. Ever been to an embarrassing situation where you want to get out and walk away completely? But something tugs at you, beseeching for you to come back and that’s what you call insane love.
"This guy intentionally broke his pair of eye glasses and left the damned lenses clanking on the cinema lobby’s floor, his girl sat by his side with that weak look in her eyes, afraid to speak up, thinking she could practically change his demeanor."
or
"Girl impedes on having the guy kneel in public so that everything will be forgotten. She’ll dunk the whole sundae on your head if you won’t move. Their argument was petty enough to start."
Wake up creatures! It’s not up to you to change them, it is up to them to leave their sissy, don’t’ let things manipulate you. You have to pick up your ass and be worried about what’s really good enough for you. Yeah, people go around with those "She’s wild, she’s bad. He’s wild, he’s bad." Would you ever stop thinking about what other people think about you. You for once know who you are and how you’ve dealt with your life as I have with mine for twenty-three years. Words should never leave you shattering, you should be tough enough. The Johari Window and all, don’t make it your basis on how to live your life. Rules are around but there is always a reason for you to bend some. Look at the mirror and don’t hate the hollows of your eyes. Love them, you’d love yourself.
This sickening bile rises up my throat. Blast!
I couldn’t bear grunting in between the cramps I’m feeling right now. What the heck! Another one of those female phenomena.
Talk about female, what’s up with those red-eyed assholes?? This is not an feminist ad to start off. Ever been to an embarrassing situation where you want to get out and walk away completely? But something tugs at you, beseeching for you to come back and that’s what you call insane love.
"This guy intentionally broke his pair of eye glasses and left the damned lenses clanking on the cinema lobby’s floor, his girl sat by his side with that weak look in her eyes, afraid to speak up, thinking she could practically change his demeanor."
or
"Girl impedes on having the guy kneel in public so that everything will be forgotten. She’ll dunk the whole sundae on your head if you won’t move. Their argument was petty enough to start."
Wake up creatures! It’s not up to you to change them, it is up to them to leave their sissy, don’t’ let things manipulate you. You have to pick up your ass and be worried about what’s really good enough for you. Yeah, people go around with those "She’s wild, she’s bad. He’s wild, he’s bad." Would you ever stop thinking about what other people think about you. You for once know who you are and how you’ve dealt with your life as I have with mine for twenty-three years. Words should never leave you shattering, you should be tough enough. The Johari Window and all, don’t make it your basis on how to live your life. Rules are around but there is always a reason for you to bend some. Look at the mirror and don’t hate the hollows of your eyes. Love them, you’d love yourself.
Gra’s Carbonara and a Bottle of PEPSI from Jeff
May 30th, 2007
Practically fumbling over the white pasta to patch my growling tummy. I haven’t eaten anything for lunch nor dinner yesterday except for the bowl of Chowking noodles brought along by Jeff and I had to gobble them up by midnight. I’m too tired..Ü But I’m getting along with the bitter night of the office. This is the sweet mediocre of being young and tiring yourself just to get that satisfaction that you’re still alert enough to fold your feet beneath your legs.
Practically fumbling over the white pasta to patch my growling tummy. I haven’t eaten anything for lunch nor dinner yesterday except for the bowl of Chowking noodles brought along by Jeff and I had to gobble them up by midnight. I’m too tired..Ü But I’m getting along with the bitter night of the office. This is the sweet mediocre of being young and tiring yourself just to get that satisfaction that you’re still alert enough to fold your feet beneath your legs.
My Head’s Wrapped in Slimy Ferns
May 18th, 2007
Reeling would be the computer’s local timer. Later, you’d see it as blotted-red as it reaches 15 minutes. What will I get from sitting here and waiting for the AC to blast again above my head? It pains me to be wrapped in this red jacket — hooded and cold and exchanged with a rotten green results of exhaustion. I smile as I listen to the newly-hired, feet jingling with excitement whenever they hear a YES. Okay, I’ve already stacked 24… tap..tap.. So?? Anything worth about it? ^snickers^
————————————————————————
Just ended my five minute call. It is just the usual, our Team Captain’s drowsed himself outside our room. You’ll find him solemn and slumbering at the lobby when you’ll take your break…hmm.. This has never been an issue. We always take beautiful considerations to our superiors. I have to shut my mouth so as to avoid any clashes. I’m tired of these. I feel that my brave soul ceases to fight back. We’re living like zombies, succumbing to our hunger for blood and meat. We march forward like dead bodies, a control to be winded on our backs by only one person. When you were younger, which do you prefer playing with?? Something with the winder or something that is battery-operated? People could be dodos if they don’t know what I’m talking about. This is the reason why I envision too much of brightness and openess, of green and light, of prairies and sun. I want to be living like I have nothing to worry about. I am not seeking for perfection. This is really hard. Is there anything that allows us to be free? The holy is just a temporary escape from what’s outside. You feel consecrated and safe when you’re inside but all of us are living a lie. Now, there is no way that I am to wait for someone to elevate me for sanctuary. People question, people scrutinize, people wonder, people get tired and people shatter like pieces of a broken glass. Just leave me this way, perhaps I will have a longer path to stroll. You feel weak, it’s not a downfall, this is what keeps you digging your toes forward though your nails are tugged and your skin is rawed. Everything is alright.
Reeling would be the computer’s local timer. Later, you’d see it as blotted-red as it reaches 15 minutes. What will I get from sitting here and waiting for the AC to blast again above my head? It pains me to be wrapped in this red jacket — hooded and cold and exchanged with a rotten green results of exhaustion. I smile as I listen to the newly-hired, feet jingling with excitement whenever they hear a YES. Okay, I’ve already stacked 24… tap..tap.. So?? Anything worth about it? ^snickers^
————————————————————————
Just ended my five minute call. It is just the usual, our Team Captain’s drowsed himself outside our room. You’ll find him solemn and slumbering at the lobby when you’ll take your break…hmm.. This has never been an issue. We always take beautiful considerations to our superiors. I have to shut my mouth so as to avoid any clashes. I’m tired of these. I feel that my brave soul ceases to fight back. We’re living like zombies, succumbing to our hunger for blood and meat. We march forward like dead bodies, a control to be winded on our backs by only one person. When you were younger, which do you prefer playing with?? Something with the winder or something that is battery-operated? People could be dodos if they don’t know what I’m talking about. This is the reason why I envision too much of brightness and openess, of green and light, of prairies and sun. I want to be living like I have nothing to worry about. I am not seeking for perfection. This is really hard. Is there anything that allows us to be free? The holy is just a temporary escape from what’s outside. You feel consecrated and safe when you’re inside but all of us are living a lie. Now, there is no way that I am to wait for someone to elevate me for sanctuary. People question, people scrutinize, people wonder, people get tired and people shatter like pieces of a broken glass. Just leave me this way, perhaps I will have a longer path to stroll. You feel weak, it’s not a downfall, this is what keeps you digging your toes forward though your nails are tugged and your skin is rawed. Everything is alright.
White Ride
March 27th, 2007
Visible.. I’ve got Four Thousand pesos to survive for two weeks. Such a poor soul.. But if you think an elitist thrives in a call center in which everyone assumes, you’re too poor as well. This company was created for political reasons. We are all but samples of the colorful accomplishments of the city’s head. We are to pick up every minute leftovers from the one who wears the golden cap yet we have to dream on, for us not to vomit violent wastes. I don’t want to feel cramps ’round my tummy. I am through..
Visible.. I’ve got Four Thousand pesos to survive for two weeks. Such a poor soul.. But if you think an elitist thrives in a call center in which everyone assumes, you’re too poor as well. This company was created for political reasons. We are all but samples of the colorful accomplishments of the city’s head. We are to pick up every minute leftovers from the one who wears the golden cap yet we have to dream on, for us not to vomit violent wastes. I don’t want to feel cramps ’round my tummy. I am through..
An orange stub for a ticket
February 18th, 2007
She’d felt the shake. Staring ahead, the view was silver and gray as the sun played above. She is unaware of what she could’ve been thinking. I have what I wanted. But her mind was crying out in pain. She sat bewildered and silent, her dainty hands running down the small lump which was building in her stomach. Something is breathing within, it is her life. It helps her, makes her strong. A pact which up to now remains a mystery. Loneliness well-wrapped itself around her. An invisible crown she has on her head but uncertainty discloses her youthfulness. She is yet too young, naive and a liar. Her large eyes sees vagueness. The inner fire unyielding to be set free. I could only watch you from afar, you live just as I live. Sweet talks won’t do you nothing but I am asking you to feel the slap of reality and you have to stand on your ground. Her fingers clawed by her side like knifes. Go on, launch out your fiery existence. It is what makes you sane. This is your given minute of thoughts.
She’d felt the shake. Staring ahead, the view was silver and gray as the sun played above. She is unaware of what she could’ve been thinking. I have what I wanted. But her mind was crying out in pain. She sat bewildered and silent, her dainty hands running down the small lump which was building in her stomach. Something is breathing within, it is her life. It helps her, makes her strong. A pact which up to now remains a mystery. Loneliness well-wrapped itself around her. An invisible crown she has on her head but uncertainty discloses her youthfulness. She is yet too young, naive and a liar. Her large eyes sees vagueness. The inner fire unyielding to be set free. I could only watch you from afar, you live just as I live. Sweet talks won’t do you nothing but I am asking you to feel the slap of reality and you have to stand on your ground. Her fingers clawed by her side like knifes. Go on, launch out your fiery existence. It is what makes you sane. This is your given minute of thoughts.
Orange Circles by my Eyesight
January 7th, 2007
Frolicking the bits of the colds that’s still clinging within me. tap.. tap.. tap..
Scouring the pages for possibilities, I’m sick of living in the odds of uncertainty. I need to make a visible result. Whatever that’s making me weak, it’s never new, I’ve always been a captive of my own hesitations. Tsk.. Tsk.. I’m still a seeker and I don’t know what I’m doing up to now.
Got nothing to do but bury myself under my warmed cheets from the overnight sleep. It’s raining outside anyway, I do have the reason to do it. But when I’m too dragged and lazy, what’s next? Am I just to bat my eyes and watch the gecko slowly crawl above the ceiling? At least, the gecko is finding it’s way out. What am I supposed to do next. Blast these thoughts of being steadied up by what I have right now. On second thought, something caught my attention. Ciao!
Frolicking the bits of the colds that’s still clinging within me. tap.. tap.. tap..
Scouring the pages for possibilities, I’m sick of living in the odds of uncertainty. I need to make a visible result. Whatever that’s making me weak, it’s never new, I’ve always been a captive of my own hesitations. Tsk.. Tsk.. I’m still a seeker and I don’t know what I’m doing up to now.
Got nothing to do but bury myself under my warmed cheets from the overnight sleep. It’s raining outside anyway, I do have the reason to do it. But when I’m too dragged and lazy, what’s next? Am I just to bat my eyes and watch the gecko slowly crawl above the ceiling? At least, the gecko is finding it’s way out. What am I supposed to do next. Blast these thoughts of being steadied up by what I have right now. On second thought, something caught my attention. Ciao!
Fish and Potatoes
October 15th, 2006
Bold red, that’s what I’m feeling right now. Trying to get in touch with myself is my own way of finding peace. You start your day unwary of anything you may have forgotten. Little thoughts of wishing you know how to drive your own car or settling on your back on a hammock, viewing the crystal sea. Tranced by the music you passionately feel for or enducing yourself with heavy massages. At times like this, the light pouring on my left is always my company. Biting off the calloused skin on the side of my fingernail, hearing the light whisper of the wind, telling you it would rain tonight and the neatly tucked linings and sheets of your bed inviting you to lay down for a while.. aahh.. A rest day. The only heavenly time given to you to keep yourself off from work and somehow making you miss the busy days you’ve been used to. This is the time that I’ll have my own sweet time by myself. Blast! Where will I be ten minuted from now? Probably I’ll head down for a cold shower or sulk down and clean my fingernails. Craning my neck, watching Kylie Wong cooking mushrooms in her kitchen. Making my mouth water and wanting to taste the garlic yogurt and the avocado chutney down at Persian Palate but my pockets are emptied by my Antibiotics. It is rather corny to watch The Ring Two when the weather outside is heated on 2 o’clock in the afternoon. Instead, I’ll kill myself by switching the TV Channels from MTV to Channel V to Discovery Travel and Living. I wish I could bring Oscar here or I wish I had my own place so I won’t worry about wishing at all. I’ll just get off the screen right now, and pull out some Buco pie from the fridge and settle outside the bamboo bench.
Bold red, that’s what I’m feeling right now. Trying to get in touch with myself is my own way of finding peace. You start your day unwary of anything you may have forgotten. Little thoughts of wishing you know how to drive your own car or settling on your back on a hammock, viewing the crystal sea. Tranced by the music you passionately feel for or enducing yourself with heavy massages. At times like this, the light pouring on my left is always my company. Biting off the calloused skin on the side of my fingernail, hearing the light whisper of the wind, telling you it would rain tonight and the neatly tucked linings and sheets of your bed inviting you to lay down for a while.. aahh.. A rest day. The only heavenly time given to you to keep yourself off from work and somehow making you miss the busy days you’ve been used to. This is the time that I’ll have my own sweet time by myself. Blast! Where will I be ten minuted from now? Probably I’ll head down for a cold shower or sulk down and clean my fingernails. Craning my neck, watching Kylie Wong cooking mushrooms in her kitchen. Making my mouth water and wanting to taste the garlic yogurt and the avocado chutney down at Persian Palate but my pockets are emptied by my Antibiotics. It is rather corny to watch The Ring Two when the weather outside is heated on 2 o’clock in the afternoon. Instead, I’ll kill myself by switching the TV Channels from MTV to Channel V to Discovery Travel and Living. I wish I could bring Oscar here or I wish I had my own place so I won’t worry about wishing at all. I’ll just get off the screen right now, and pull out some Buco pie from the fridge and settle outside the bamboo bench.
Earth, Teal and Turquoise
October 5th, 2006
I am back..
I have been wringing my fingers clean to keep them from sweating. How glad I was to have seen the grounds of Mis.Or. hehehe… Too much for creating the fantastic plan for a vacation as we were stranded in Camiguin for two days that left me crying tears made of guilt and questions.
I took my first step on the planks of the barge. Never felt nausea and such as we traveled towards the island. Left my eyes wide open as we traversed the turquoise sea. I could still see the wide grins on the faces of Jeff and Mabsy. HuLee and I took turns on looking at each other with excited amusement. We were rich then, as we were granted with earthbound treasures by Sarrah. That was the kick of the plan. Endless pulsating of the drugged minds. Toured the whole place as I’ve endeavored. I was more than happy and free. Tu-a, gabaan! hahaha! Then came "VisMin" and the rest of the typhoons paying their nasty respects to the sea. We can’t go back to the mainland. We are to stay for a couple of days more. Boo-hoo…
I sat bored endlessly at our bed. Peering through the jalousied windows of the hotel we were in. Blast! The trees were everywhere, they were not uprooted or anything but their branches seemed to be sucked towards the sea. I still could feel the raging sea wind trying to pull me as I tried to near the seawall. Nah! Can’t do it so I treaded back to where the guys were chilling, with their hairs billowed. This is the first time I’ve ever felt breakfast-lunch-dinner is existing. Seems like the food is still stuck on my cheek, making me look like a chimp, saving his food for later. My tummy is bloated and my body is sated yet weakened. Crimping on the bills left in our pockets, trying to assure ourselves that we have to leave enough to be able to go home. Encouraging ourselves not to worry about cannot-be-resolved things. I am not complaining, I’d loved all of the time I’ve spent there. Crashing into Jeff’s cousin’s cottage, living our own rendition of being Lost or Cast Away. The place was amazing, It’s like living in a house located nowhere, the beach just a trail away. Black pebbles, shells, sea rocks which had cut my legs and Jeff’s, crazed wind direction, blue-brown waves, the sun - they are still vividly registered in my mind. I do sound like a first timer, because I am.
I’ve let out a smile as I’d stepped out of the barge for the second time. Love you, my sweet.
Whew! All was crazy yet beautiful.
This is yet the best experience of my life — the longest lie I’ve made — the craziest out-of-town destination.
I am back..
I have been wringing my fingers clean to keep them from sweating. How glad I was to have seen the grounds of Mis.Or. hehehe… Too much for creating the fantastic plan for a vacation as we were stranded in Camiguin for two days that left me crying tears made of guilt and questions.
I took my first step on the planks of the barge. Never felt nausea and such as we traveled towards the island. Left my eyes wide open as we traversed the turquoise sea. I could still see the wide grins on the faces of Jeff and Mabsy. HuLee and I took turns on looking at each other with excited amusement. We were rich then, as we were granted with earthbound treasures by Sarrah. That was the kick of the plan. Endless pulsating of the drugged minds. Toured the whole place as I’ve endeavored. I was more than happy and free. Tu-a, gabaan! hahaha! Then came "VisMin" and the rest of the typhoons paying their nasty respects to the sea. We can’t go back to the mainland. We are to stay for a couple of days more. Boo-hoo…
I sat bored endlessly at our bed. Peering through the jalousied windows of the hotel we were in. Blast! The trees were everywhere, they were not uprooted or anything but their branches seemed to be sucked towards the sea. I still could feel the raging sea wind trying to pull me as I tried to near the seawall. Nah! Can’t do it so I treaded back to where the guys were chilling, with their hairs billowed. This is the first time I’ve ever felt breakfast-lunch-dinner is existing. Seems like the food is still stuck on my cheek, making me look like a chimp, saving his food for later. My tummy is bloated and my body is sated yet weakened. Crimping on the bills left in our pockets, trying to assure ourselves that we have to leave enough to be able to go home. Encouraging ourselves not to worry about cannot-be-resolved things. I am not complaining, I’d loved all of the time I’ve spent there. Crashing into Jeff’s cousin’s cottage, living our own rendition of being Lost or Cast Away. The place was amazing, It’s like living in a house located nowhere, the beach just a trail away. Black pebbles, shells, sea rocks which had cut my legs and Jeff’s, crazed wind direction, blue-brown waves, the sun - they are still vividly registered in my mind. I do sound like a first timer, because I am.
I’ve let out a smile as I’d stepped out of the barge for the second time. Love you, my sweet.
Whew! All was crazy yet beautiful.
This is yet the best experience of my life — the longest lie I’ve made — the craziest out-of-town destination.
Wrought-iron and Violet ropes
September 17th, 2006
Blogs. This space was intended for the thoughts of the unperturbed minds. I had a long taLk with gray last night. It sums up that all of our existence sums up into nothingness. NOTHING! life is yes! Our sane minds make up a lot of meanings for a single word. If I’m going to give you the word "cold". What would you think of? Is it the "cold" which is what we feel, what we see or is it just a noun, an adjective or a verb? If we’ll reach the end of ends, we’ll get to know only it’s single meaning and nothing else. Sleep is the smallest form of death, we die a little while we slumber. The death that we know of is being buried six-feet underground. When what we don’t know of, death is nothing. Death is the point where we’ll be able to find the answers of all of our nagging questions. Who is God? Is it really true that Adam and Eve exists? Is one plus one really two? We’ll get all of the answers to these once our body rests in a cold coffin or in a rustic urn. It just takes some time for our autism to separate from our sanity. The mind who talks a lot, who thinks a lot is the introvert, the one who acts along exteriorly, is sober. We are all walking autistic and sane. Trust me, all who walks in the walls of these black-hole formed mass are going to end up being nothing. We’ll have nothing to grieve nor compare about once we’ll see the end. All started from nothing and it will always end up nothing. The one in between are the fictional/nonfictional reactions of the sane.
Blogs. This space was intended for the thoughts of the unperturbed minds. I had a long taLk with gray last night. It sums up that all of our existence sums up into nothingness. NOTHING! life is yes! Our sane minds make up a lot of meanings for a single word. If I’m going to give you the word "cold". What would you think of? Is it the "cold" which is what we feel, what we see or is it just a noun, an adjective or a verb? If we’ll reach the end of ends, we’ll get to know only it’s single meaning and nothing else. Sleep is the smallest form of death, we die a little while we slumber. The death that we know of is being buried six-feet underground. When what we don’t know of, death is nothing. Death is the point where we’ll be able to find the answers of all of our nagging questions. Who is God? Is it really true that Adam and Eve exists? Is one plus one really two? We’ll get all of the answers to these once our body rests in a cold coffin or in a rustic urn. It just takes some time for our autism to separate from our sanity. The mind who talks a lot, who thinks a lot is the introvert, the one who acts along exteriorly, is sober. We are all walking autistic and sane. Trust me, all who walks in the walls of these black-hole formed mass are going to end up being nothing. We’ll have nothing to grieve nor compare about once we’ll see the end. All started from nothing and it will always end up nothing. The one in between are the fictional/nonfictional reactions of the sane.
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