Pillows

A handful of soil, it was all that it took for her to tuck in the tiny bird that fell dead by their doorstep. Sleep.

She played with her nails as she tried to pry off the dirt and looked around. It was nearly six in the morning; the air was cold and crisp. She got out of the nearby woods and headed back. Adapt.

It was day one. She scours the neighborhood and took in the silence and contentment. It was too long for her to hear how the wind sounds; wafting silent whispers.

A few people had started to craft their day. Two old couple, who lived blocks away, Mr. and Mrs. Turner, as she was told, held each other by their front porch, nipping on their hot coffees and murmured sweet nothings. He must’ve said something sweet, as she playfully slapped his arm, then ran her wrinkly hand over his. He perfectly gathered her in his arms. Resting. Ideal.

She took in new thoughts, plans and lets out a smile. Her house stood ash white and proud. The dove gray roof was finally restored to what it has been before. This is home.

STK ta Bay!

Foodtrip.

So much for our anticipation to get on the Edge Coaster rides; but it was halted when cold feet crawled upon majority of us. Instead of playing with fear, we've decided to play with our palate.

From Club Ultima (Crown Regency Hotel), we opted to head to STK.
STK - Sugba, Tula, Kilaw.



This place is really situated inside the Capitol Area, away from the buzz and the lights, so having a private ride saves you the long hike. The place is really homey, knowing it was a private home converted to a . I always have a soft spot for SuTuKil cuisine and this is one example of a "dine-and-pig-out" that I won't decline, if any invitation will be given.



The menu splays all variety of food and cooking you'd want plus the price is really affordable.
So we all took the liberty (actually Pam and Lani did), to pick one out of everything. One heavy appetite coming from girls which should be rather unusual. But we'd licked our plates clean afterward.

Everything's cooked fresh as soon as you have your selection.




Calamares



Baked Scallops



Grilled Tuna Belly



SinugLaw (Grilled Pork and Fish Kinilaw)



Pochero



Hot & Spicy Shrimps



So, you might as well add this place up on your destination list should you be dropping by Cebu.






~Slurping on my soup




~(L-R) Pam, Lani, Moi, Lily, Tin




CHOW!

Larang

I've been wondering what this is.

First time I've scoured the food section of Cebu, I was brought to the wayside stalls at Fuente. Larang is being sold there and I was to share a seat with strangers just to get a swig of the city’s known soup --- a rich and spicy coconut fish stew. It’s no different to fish sinigang but the importance that they’ve laid on this viand couldn’t compare to any ordinary food.

A friend of mine who's from Pasil had brought one to work. She's pride on her Mom’s cooking and talked about the careful choice of fish she’s requested to be cooked.
Hannah Leyson: "Kanang isda sa bato, Byang. Kanang puti, Molmol man ni".
Errol purred right beside me while irresistibly slurping: "Hmmm...I love it!"
It was a different version, ‘twas minus the coconut milk but its soup was naturally flavored sour by the tamarinds that joined it. Nothing beats a home-cooked meal.

So we've taken it at home and here’s our own version of it.

Just had a handful of onions, garlic and ripe tomatoes and substituted the tamarind for the powdered one.



Dunno what fish this is but I knew this would do.



I was in no mood to cook, got the womanly matters. So had to dictate the steps to Lily while she did the cooking. She's a natural.



Well, so much more for staying aside and waiting for it.

The best part is always the eating part.



Chow!

I lack of sleep

I am guilty of wearing earphones at work as I find it easier to work when I can’t hear other people battle with their keyboards.

I grew up listening to all types of music. Morning Sun was one of our breakfast songs. I was told when I was a toddler; I can sing all of Madonna’s songs, especially the tingling parts of Like a Virgin. My obsession with her went on and my parents even rented some Betamax movies of her concerts. Back then, I had a pack of four to five year old boys as pals; can’t remember their names. They didn’t like Madonna as much as I did but I’ve had day dreams that I’d join Little Miss Philippines and do one of her songs. One day, to seek my friends’ approval, I’ve worn my best red underwear with white lace trimmings when I was out and about our apartment grounds. But, my boy band teased me about it and hated me for wearing one. I’ve cried in embarrassment and have never worn it again; I’ve outgrown my fixation of Madonna too early (but I still loved her).

I was three when I got enrolled to preparatory school and I sang a duet with my schoolmate Mark Calo of “If We Hold On” at one of our school’s programs. At this age, I was so engrossed with the movie Land before Time which was why I can sing the lines with eyes closed --- I can also recall my Mom and her discipline stick when we’d have to rehearse it with her. I’d get good amount of slaps if I mess up with the lines and pitch. If I wouldn’t get it straight, I was not allowed to go out and play. Finally, when the day came to deliver it, I’ve sang the whole thing without mistakes and I was relieved that it has to end - for I have to avoid my Mom’s scrutiny. I was back to running on the streets with my boy pals.

There was enough room for curiosity when we were in sixth grade - backmasking which was made to uncover satanic messages from Eraserhead while playing chase as someone was pulling the tapes from its spools. This went on until high school; when people had discovered Alanis Morisette and some ogled over Backstreet Boys.

I was in Junior high when I’ve learned how to play the guitar. I’ve got one as a gift from my Dad.
I do remember him flicking through the pages of his song books and strumming his guitar when I was six years old. I’d listen to him play Our House by C,S,N & Y. He’s told my then young mind about the hidden implication of some songs he’s played like Puff the Magic Dragon and Hey Jude and so on; implications which a lot can retell nowadays. My parents were not that thrilled to having me interested in playing; I was not to enlist myself in any extra-curricular work and I did get in a lot of trouble with it.

I know my Dad was a music hoarder. I was in third grade when he’d worked in Taiwan, I remember him sending us tape recordings of Guns and Roses and Stone Temple Pilots. He had a notable collection of nothing but CDs and cassette tapes but you can see less of them now as I’ve befriended some neighborhood burglar - who won the trust from our dogs and marveled over his minute winnings. I never got to see him again since he boarded the pig-sty cell. I was told that he has to be discharged, well; I do hope that his feet are now rotten.

I’ve then had relationships with men who had music influences on them; who played with bands. Each journey I’ve been with them was different and ecstatic and excruciating - to having your heart broken by your first love and to having to think you were already mature enough to keep one.

But sometimes, I shut myself out from everything and would prefer having music blasting in my ears or playing deaf.
It’s easier.
It makes me composed.
It makes me distant.
It makes me weird and it makes me sensible.
Just like now.

Type.
Type.
Type.

Anchovies

She is the puppeteer to her own life. She kneads the soles of her feet on the tiled ground in comfort. She benefits from walking barefoot across the foyer. Her grip to filthy garbage is easy; she lunges on filth – unsoiled it. Her baffled ignorance is not hindered by her impulsiveness. Daily, she wonders and tries to squeeze out the promise of impossibility. Drowning herself in smoke gives her a calming trance. She stares far away, to no where.

When I was younger, I've watched horror movies: Bloodstone,Child's Play,Pet Sematary,Children of the Corn,Village of the Damned

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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..

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.