3rd bottle in 3rd cup. The place, serene and quiet, suddenly turned into a market place. To my right, a group of teeners, high school teeners for sure, are a group of first timers. I could listen to their stories. One is talking about his basketball game, being benched for like the nth time. Another talks about his encounter with some girl he saw in Giordano. In front of me are a group of men, barely men I suppose. They were enjoying their PSP game a while back. But, like me, on their 3rd bottle as well, they have entered into a conversation they are so into. I could not make out of what they are talking about, except for the occasional laughs. They are intently engaged in watching at their Sony Vaio laptop. One of the men, err boys, is wearing a peach shirt. I just had to mention it. Nothing special. Another, the guy to his right, is wearing a bull cap. Oh, I was to segue from the part when I typed the word laughs.
Laughter. Someone plurked something about what makes you laugh. Looking at my self in the mirror makes me laugh, I replied. I just posted that because I did not know what else to post.
This whole post is not going to make any sense. So don't start rationalizing what you are reading right now.
I have been a software engineer once in my life. I have worked with a lot of people. Some weird, some weirder still. But it didn't matter. It didn't matter if one was weird. Because there, so long as you were doing your job, which was to meet deadlines and code elegantly, you were fine. It didn't matter if at lunchbreak you were listening to Michael Jackson then on to April Boy Regino the next. It didn't matter if you liked Erap but hated FPJ.
Now, well, I just have to smile.
I would like to think that it wouldn't matter if I met someone who doesn't like me. I met many of them by the way. I would like to think that I am doing them a favor, at least they have someone to laugh about, to say bad words about.
And that is not about to change, my belief that it shouldn't matter.
I have realized that we can't please everyone. Some will disappoint us, others will disappoint us some more.
Like I said, this is a random non-sense... :)
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Wednesdays
I have seen red rose buds bloom into immense beauty
I have seen them wither too, petal after petal.
I have watched the sun heed to the dark
I have watched the dark heed to the bright of light.
I have seen the moon, full and proud, bow
I have seen the moon, invisible and new, shine
I have watched Wednesdays dawn into Thursdays
I have seen all these, but not you.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Low
I have done stupid things in my life. But what I did last night tops all of them. It was disgusting. It was bordering on psychosis. I was so damn stupid. Bien tanga! gago!
Saturday, August 30, 2008
On Wet, Cold Saturday Mornings and Cory Aquino
I had a hard time getting out of my bed this morning. It's been raining for hours already. It's cold, not the devilish kind, but the kind that makes you want to not get out of bed and just lie down there and dream. I wanted to fall asleep. And dream of you. I haven't seen for almost two months now. I can't say if you are avoiding me. You said you're just busy. I can take that lie. I seem to have been feeding on those lately, your lies. Lie to me, one more time. Lie to me, and tell me you miss me too.
The dream never came and it's getting late, one peek outside the window, tells me that the truth is cold, and that when the rain falls gently, it's going to be a while before the chilling pain goes away.
I got out bed, brushed my teeth, washed my face and logged on to Inquirer.net. I got intrigued by this news which read "Cory Aquino: Use People Power to fight poverty." Then I was fuming. For a while there I wanted all her yellow clothes to change to the rust colored kind. You see, I never liked her.
Yes, why not use people power? Use the power of the people to fight poverty. When the two people power revolutions were staged, there was a ridiculously great amount of money involved. Businessmen, mostly, did not bother to pour in money just to have a corrupt and evil administration toppled, in a bloodless revolution.
Why do we find it hard to the same in fighting poverty when it is very easy for us to go to the streets and point fingers at the wrongs of an administration who might just have been trying its best to solve the gargantuan problems of this seemingly small country? I don't want to go into telling you that it's because of personal interest. That helping out in toppling down an administration is an investment.
I pity my fellow Filipinos who, in all fervor and patriotism, just want a peaceful and corrupt-less nation (myself included). I feel used. I feel betrayed.
The rain has not stopped yet. It is still cold. I am going to take a bath now. And it will be cold.
The rain gently falls. Slowly. Telling me it's going to be a while before the chilling pain goes away.
The dream never came and it's getting late, one peek outside the window, tells me that the truth is cold, and that when the rain falls gently, it's going to be a while before the chilling pain goes away.
I got out bed, brushed my teeth, washed my face and logged on to Inquirer.net. I got intrigued by this news which read "Cory Aquino: Use People Power to fight poverty." Then I was fuming. For a while there I wanted all her yellow clothes to change to the rust colored kind. You see, I never liked her.
Yes, why not use people power? Use the power of the people to fight poverty. When the two people power revolutions were staged, there was a ridiculously great amount of money involved. Businessmen, mostly, did not bother to pour in money just to have a corrupt and evil administration toppled, in a bloodless revolution.
Why do we find it hard to the same in fighting poverty when it is very easy for us to go to the streets and point fingers at the wrongs of an administration who might just have been trying its best to solve the gargantuan problems of this seemingly small country? I don't want to go into telling you that it's because of personal interest. That helping out in toppling down an administration is an investment.
I pity my fellow Filipinos who, in all fervor and patriotism, just want a peaceful and corrupt-less nation (myself included). I feel used. I feel betrayed.
The rain has not stopped yet. It is still cold. I am going to take a bath now. And it will be cold.
The rain gently falls. Slowly. Telling me it's going to be a while before the chilling pain goes away.
Monday, August 25, 2008
On Ben Chan, "I am Ninoy" and de Quiros
Ben Chan was the player in this afternoon's episode of Deal or No Deal. When down to the last two cases and with PhP150,279 offer from the banker, he opted to go for his case, briefcase number 5. This number has always brought him luck said Kris. With this, he was standing to lose the offer and bring home 10 pesos or lose the offer and donate 300,000 to a charity. He promised to give the charity the 300,000 if his case turns out to be 10 pesos. The number 5 must have been very lucky for him as it contained the 300,000 (and you hear Kris shriek!). As if he cared, he is freakin' Ben Chan.
Kris asked for this black shirt, one of the "I am Ninoy" shirts. She thanked Ben for makin' them and making her mother, Cory Aquino, very happy. The shirt is available in all Bench outlets and in all sizes.
Last week, the country remembered the heroism of Ninoy, his assassination's 25th Anniversary. To this day, those sentenced to be imprisoned for life, the supposed culprits in the assassination, deny ever having been involved in that monstrosity.
On December 30, 2003, President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo pledged not to run in the 2004 presidential elections. There must have been sincerity in that, she made it on Rizal Day. Almost everyone praised her. The many projects that she started to pay attention to were no longer considered as campaigning for the next elections.
Suddenly, she filed her candidacy. That's when de Quiros lost faith in her. It's as if, the only glorious thing about her was her name. It no longer mattered that she was daughter of a former President of the Republic. She was devil incarnate to de Quiros.
That's also when I stopped reading de Quiros. Almost all his articles were about how evil PGMA has become. You see, I've always loved de Quiros. He used to be the only reason why I read the Inquirer.
Then he wrote this.
Hindi ka nag-iisa. What has made this country a little less bereaved by August 21 is that it dwells too much on a particular martyrdom to the exclusion of all else, turning it as well into a conceit, wrote de Quiros. Very well said. I think it is important to remember that it wasn't only Ninoy who was assassinated. It wasn't only Ninoy who shed blood. It wasn't only Cory who lost a husband. It is important to remember that it was the nation's sacrifice. They were in the hundereds, thousands even. They were nameless and faceless, and they remain to be in the eyes of the Filipinos to this very day.
Kris asked for this black shirt, one of the "I am Ninoy" shirts. She thanked Ben for makin' them and making her mother, Cory Aquino, very happy. The shirt is available in all Bench outlets and in all sizes.
Last week, the country remembered the heroism of Ninoy, his assassination's 25th Anniversary. To this day, those sentenced to be imprisoned for life, the supposed culprits in the assassination, deny ever having been involved in that monstrosity.
On December 30, 2003, President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo pledged not to run in the 2004 presidential elections. There must have been sincerity in that, she made it on Rizal Day. Almost everyone praised her. The many projects that she started to pay attention to were no longer considered as campaigning for the next elections.
Suddenly, she filed her candidacy. That's when de Quiros lost faith in her. It's as if, the only glorious thing about her was her name. It no longer mattered that she was daughter of a former President of the Republic. She was devil incarnate to de Quiros.
That's also when I stopped reading de Quiros. Almost all his articles were about how evil PGMA has become. You see, I've always loved de Quiros. He used to be the only reason why I read the Inquirer.
Then he wrote this.
Hindi ka nag-iisa. What has made this country a little less bereaved by August 21 is that it dwells too much on a particular martyrdom to the exclusion of all else, turning it as well into a conceit, wrote de Quiros. Very well said. I think it is important to remember that it wasn't only Ninoy who was assassinated. It wasn't only Ninoy who shed blood. It wasn't only Cory who lost a husband. It is important to remember that it was the nation's sacrifice. They were in the hundereds, thousands even. They were nameless and faceless, and they remain to be in the eyes of the Filipinos to this very day.
De Quiros concluded his article with this: "I wonder when we’ll ever make August 21 a little more meaningful by adding that dimension to it. True enough, Ninoy, Sin and Cory were, and are, heroes. But hindi sila nag-iisa. There were, there are, more.
A lot, lot more."
And that's probably the reason why we have the National Heroes' Day. That's today, by the way.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
The Separation of Church and State
I've been wanting to write about this ever since the Catholic hierarchy has been threatening Catholic lawmakers of not giving them communion if they will support the Reproductive Health Bill. I never got to write what I wanted to say though. Then I read a news in the Inquirer where the Catholic Hierarchy reminded its flock of its non-endorsement of condoms even to married couples with HIV (if your husband has HIV, the Catholic hierarchy reminds the uninfected wife to never resort to wearing a condom during intercourse). This didn't just bother me, it angered me. But I kept my cool. This morning, while reading the paper, some bishop was in the news again, threatening members of his church of excommunication if and when they will support the Reproductive Health Bill! I still can't say what I want to say.
I remembered MLQ III's article in the Inquirer. I guess he said it perfectly. The following are the article's last two paragraphs:
I remembered MLQ III's article in the Inquirer. I guess he said it perfectly. The following are the article's last two paragraphs:
"At the very least the hierarchy not only has the right, but the duty, to mobilize. It is up to the faithful whether they will follow their shepherds’ lead. Personally, I do not think it either desirable or productive to question Catholics on questions of faith or morals: Any serious Catholic is under the same obligation as any decent Filipino to defend his principles, to the death, if need be. To demand of Catholics that they restrict the application of their faith and morals to the confines of their homes and churches is essentially to ask them to commit apostasy.
But it is fair and just to remind the hierarchy and the rest of the Catholic citizenry that our Republic does not exist for Catholics alone, and this means that their faith and morals cannot be made the exclusive basis for state policy."
You can read the entire article here.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Comme des Garcons
That's French for "like boys." No! Read it again. It's "like boys" and not "I like boys." Although that is true as well, very much in fact.
Comme des Garcons by Junya Watanabe. That's what's written on the pair of shoes I recently bought. It's a pair of browns. Comme des Garcons is a famous brand in Japan with over 200 vendors around the world. It also has a store in Paris. I know, I can't afford these kinds of shoes. They are out of my league, so to speak. But I just bought a pair bitches! Be jealous, be very jealous!
On second thought, don't be. I bought them for only PhP120.00. It's that cheap. I got it from ukay ukay. That one near the United Pharmacy. Every night, that small alley there turns into an ukay ukay of shoes, shoes of every kind. Littered, quite disorderly, on the pavement are all kinds of shoes. Brand new class A pairs of all brands. But what I consider real finds are those pairs formerly owned by God knows who! If you just patiently look, more like hunt, you will find a pair that will suit you best. Like the Comme pair I found.
Seated like a five year old near a bush, she was wearing a hat. It was more like a rag wrapped around her head. I couldn't make the color of the cloth, it was past 8 pm. She was seated there on the side walk, near the bush. The bush was fenced by four lines of barb wire. Behind her was a brown box. It was empty. Tin cans of four different sizes were neatly arranged right in front of her. They were rusty. Two of the cans had water in them. One was almost empty, the other almost half empty. There was one big can with its lid cover folded away from it. It contained what seemed like leftover rice. There wasn't any mat nor rag nor even flat cartons that may have served as her floor. Between her and the soil is that rough, cold and heartless pavement. There were plastic bags around her. One bag was black. The rest were either white or red. Tucked in one of those plastic bags was a cat. Almost a foot long, curled in a spoon position. Unmindful of the people passing by the street. Another was asleep near it. Both were a collage of orange and brown feline hair. Carefully watching people pass by the street was a third cat. It was comfortably settled on its belly on the old lady's skirt. Together, the cats, the plastic bags, the tin cans and the old lady, they formed a circle. The brown box at the back of the old lady. It was a picture of how life must be lived. Simple, uncomplicated and full of care. The lady's eyes never wandered away from the cats. She must have provided for these cats for a long time now. They were a picture of a happy family. Like the first cat, the old lady was as well unmindful of the things that was happening around her. She did not even notice I was carefully studying them from about a meter away. Why should they bother us anyway? Why should she even mind about us? When they were perfect, just like that. It didn't even cross my mind if they had dinner already. I wanted to talk to her. I wanted to ask how she was and how long has she been taking care of the cats. I wanted to ask her if she had a home, if she had a family.
All she had to do to appease me was to be herself, to look after her cats under a dark, cloudy, starless sky.
I feel heavy, writing this one. I have to end this now. A tear just fell from my left eye. I can still see her face, full of love and full of passion. It's raining hard outside.
Comme des Garcons by Junya Watanabe. That's what's written on the pair of shoes I recently bought. It's a pair of browns. Comme des Garcons is a famous brand in Japan with over 200 vendors around the world. It also has a store in Paris. I know, I can't afford these kinds of shoes. They are out of my league, so to speak. But I just bought a pair bitches! Be jealous, be very jealous!
On second thought, don't be. I bought them for only PhP120.00. It's that cheap. I got it from ukay ukay. That one near the United Pharmacy. Every night, that small alley there turns into an ukay ukay of shoes, shoes of every kind. Littered, quite disorderly, on the pavement are all kinds of shoes. Brand new class A pairs of all brands. But what I consider real finds are those pairs formerly owned by God knows who! If you just patiently look, more like hunt, you will find a pair that will suit you best. Like the Comme pair I found.
Seated like a five year old near a bush, she was wearing a hat. It was more like a rag wrapped around her head. I couldn't make the color of the cloth, it was past 8 pm. She was seated there on the side walk, near the bush. The bush was fenced by four lines of barb wire. Behind her was a brown box. It was empty. Tin cans of four different sizes were neatly arranged right in front of her. They were rusty. Two of the cans had water in them. One was almost empty, the other almost half empty. There was one big can with its lid cover folded away from it. It contained what seemed like leftover rice. There wasn't any mat nor rag nor even flat cartons that may have served as her floor. Between her and the soil is that rough, cold and heartless pavement. There were plastic bags around her. One bag was black. The rest were either white or red. Tucked in one of those plastic bags was a cat. Almost a foot long, curled in a spoon position. Unmindful of the people passing by the street. Another was asleep near it. Both were a collage of orange and brown feline hair. Carefully watching people pass by the street was a third cat. It was comfortably settled on its belly on the old lady's skirt. Together, the cats, the plastic bags, the tin cans and the old lady, they formed a circle. The brown box at the back of the old lady. It was a picture of how life must be lived. Simple, uncomplicated and full of care. The lady's eyes never wandered away from the cats. She must have provided for these cats for a long time now. They were a picture of a happy family. Like the first cat, the old lady was as well unmindful of the things that was happening around her. She did not even notice I was carefully studying them from about a meter away. Why should they bother us anyway? Why should she even mind about us? When they were perfect, just like that. It didn't even cross my mind if they had dinner already. I wanted to talk to her. I wanted to ask how she was and how long has she been taking care of the cats. I wanted to ask her if she had a home, if she had a family.
All she had to do to appease me was to be herself, to look after her cats under a dark, cloudy, starless sky.
I feel heavy, writing this one. I have to end this now. A tear just fell from my left eye. I can still see her face, full of love and full of passion. It's raining hard outside.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Salted Peanuts
She couldn't have been any younger than 50. She had this black lace, littered with golden glitters that kept her hair up in a ponytail. Her forehead was oily, and her cheeks as well. She seemed tired. Her eyes seemingly wary, mostly tired and a bit reddish. Between seconds, she reaches for a bag of Sugo salted peanuts. She was carefully munching the nuts, ever cautious to part her lips in every munch. I could see that she kept munching the nuts with her left set of molars. She probably have lost her right set of molars, seeing that she's in her fifty's. She was sitting in a stooped position, almost unintentionally. She just wiped her right hand on her pants, the right pair to be exact, right on her thigh. She was wearing a pair of black corduroy pants. The side of each pair open, about 2 inches in width, knitted in designs of "x". It was annoying, her wiping in her pants every 4 or so nuts. With her right ring finger, she scratched the bridge of her nose. Her nails must have not been manicured for a year. She then reached for the bag of nuts again. She wasn't wearing any ring, I noticed. Either she's allergic to rings or she's a spinster, but hopefully not the mean type. She seems to be a nice lady. She's wearing a pair of golden earrings.
A screaming siren shook me and made me stop staring at her. It came from a speeding PNP car that had "Bomb Squad" written on its side. I figured, probably there was a bomb threat in Guiwan. That's where the car was heading in a flash. Then I noticed that we were following an old Volkswagen beetle. It's plate read "LAW 241." I'll be honest, I am not sure with the digits that came after the letters. His plate read LAW. That was what caught my attention. It made me think, what's the use of having laws when bomb scares and bomb explosions seem to be routines in our place?
What are laws if they cannot deter would-be criminals and terrorists? What are laws when law enforcers become the criminals and the terrorists?
Cicero once said and lectured that "The good of the people is the chief law." What does it mean when one says people that are good, anyway? Before I become the philosophical fish that I sometimes am, I just have to look at the hungry Filipinos who are running out of patience, running out of time, running out of options.
She reached for her bag of nuts, again, not minding the bomb squad that just crossed our way. I wonder if she even heard the siren. She kept munching, wiping her right hand on her right thigh, reaching for the bag of nuts and munch again.
That's my stop. I signaled the driver, stood up before he slowed down and stepped on the breaks. That's when I noticed she was wearing a pair of black leather shoes. The kind that high school teenagers wear as part of their uniform ensemble.
Oh joy! There were no pedicabs in sight. I didn't want to walk one-hundred fifty meters to our house. I was really exhausted. I came from the grandstand where I jogged almost six rounds. I was with Jerome, Romeo and Paulo. We headed for the boulevard afterwards, ate balot (I had two), tempura and downed a 12-ounce bottle of mountain dew.
There was nothing at that moment I wanted to do more than just lie down on my bed and get a power nap before I hit the showers.
Bent on not having that walk, I waited. Ten minutes have passed but still no pedicabs in sight. Pissed off, I started walking when someone called out my attention. The Lord is so magnanimous. A pedicab!
I reached our house still thinking of the bag of Sugo salted peanuts. I completely forgot the lady's oily face.
A screaming siren shook me and made me stop staring at her. It came from a speeding PNP car that had "Bomb Squad" written on its side. I figured, probably there was a bomb threat in Guiwan. That's where the car was heading in a flash. Then I noticed that we were following an old Volkswagen beetle. It's plate read "LAW 241." I'll be honest, I am not sure with the digits that came after the letters. His plate read LAW. That was what caught my attention. It made me think, what's the use of having laws when bomb scares and bomb explosions seem to be routines in our place?
What are laws if they cannot deter would-be criminals and terrorists? What are laws when law enforcers become the criminals and the terrorists?
Cicero once said and lectured that "The good of the people is the chief law." What does it mean when one says people that are good, anyway? Before I become the philosophical fish that I sometimes am, I just have to look at the hungry Filipinos who are running out of patience, running out of time, running out of options.
She reached for her bag of nuts, again, not minding the bomb squad that just crossed our way. I wonder if she even heard the siren. She kept munching, wiping her right hand on her right thigh, reaching for the bag of nuts and munch again.
That's my stop. I signaled the driver, stood up before he slowed down and stepped on the breaks. That's when I noticed she was wearing a pair of black leather shoes. The kind that high school teenagers wear as part of their uniform ensemble.
Oh joy! There were no pedicabs in sight. I didn't want to walk one-hundred fifty meters to our house. I was really exhausted. I came from the grandstand where I jogged almost six rounds. I was with Jerome, Romeo and Paulo. We headed for the boulevard afterwards, ate balot (I had two), tempura and downed a 12-ounce bottle of mountain dew.
There was nothing at that moment I wanted to do more than just lie down on my bed and get a power nap before I hit the showers.
Bent on not having that walk, I waited. Ten minutes have passed but still no pedicabs in sight. Pissed off, I started walking when someone called out my attention. The Lord is so magnanimous. A pedicab!
I reached our house still thinking of the bag of Sugo salted peanuts. I completely forgot the lady's oily face.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
It's over, almost
The summer classes are over. This means that I no longer have to wake up very early in the morning. I had a 7:30 this summer. That's a reeelief! I still have to give a final exam on Tuesday though .
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrh!
A brownout just cut my Caspian Prince download! And I can't seem to resume it! Waaah!
Where was I? Oh, the final exam I have to give on Tuesday.
I'll be attending a seminar on Photo Editing and Desktop Publishing the whole next week, all the five working days. Then there's the group of students I am training for the ACM Programming Contest and the Smart Sweep Contest. They are a bunch of brilliant students. Not the geek kind. But a bunch who knows how turn every algorithmic nightmare into one helluva party.
We have to finish two applications (card games) in time for the orientation seminar for the Freshies. We are experiencing a dwindling enrollment in our Computer Science and Management Information System programs. We need to work on this one, hard.
Just when I thought that I was free of the 7:30, it was jaw-dropping when I saw my schedule for the first semester. Monday - Friday, 7:30 am!
You see, I have a problem with this schedule. I teach Computer Science subjects. I handle both the elementary and advanced programming subjects, data structures, and the design and analysis of algorithms. The 7:30s I will have this first semester are both advanced programming. I need an LCD projector for this class. And offices open at 8:00 am. Yes, we do not have our own LCD projectors in our department. So we depend on the Computer Center and our College. Like I said, their offices open at 8:00 and they don't allow us to borrow the projector late in the afternoon the day before. The projectors can't stay in our office overnight. But I will try to work out this one.
When all this work is done, I am so going to the beach and bask under the sun's deadly rays! I will conquer Malamawi!
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrh!
A brownout just cut my Caspian Prince download! And I can't seem to resume it! Waaah!
Where was I? Oh, the final exam I have to give on Tuesday.
I'll be attending a seminar on Photo Editing and Desktop Publishing the whole next week, all the five working days. Then there's the group of students I am training for the ACM Programming Contest and the Smart Sweep Contest. They are a bunch of brilliant students. Not the geek kind. But a bunch who knows how turn every algorithmic nightmare into one helluva party.
We have to finish two applications (card games) in time for the orientation seminar for the Freshies. We are experiencing a dwindling enrollment in our Computer Science and Management Information System programs. We need to work on this one, hard.
Just when I thought that I was free of the 7:30, it was jaw-dropping when I saw my schedule for the first semester. Monday - Friday, 7:30 am!
You see, I have a problem with this schedule. I teach Computer Science subjects. I handle both the elementary and advanced programming subjects, data structures, and the design and analysis of algorithms. The 7:30s I will have this first semester are both advanced programming. I need an LCD projector for this class. And offices open at 8:00 am. Yes, we do not have our own LCD projectors in our department. So we depend on the Computer Center and our College. Like I said, their offices open at 8:00 and they don't allow us to borrow the projector late in the afternoon the day before. The projectors can't stay in our office overnight. But I will try to work out this one.
When all this work is done, I am so going to the beach and bask under the sun's deadly rays! I will conquer Malamawi!
Sunday, May 18, 2008
On Giving
I have never considered my work, work, 'til this day. I am tired. Until this day, I never had difficulty waking up early in the morning. When everyone is enjoying their summer, trying to catch up on the sleep they have missed out, I am cheerfully waking up early, dawn after dawn. I've always considered the new morn a blessing and a chance to help one more soul, one more person who needs help. My philosophy has always been that help is always around, all one has to do is ask. So, as long as I can give the help, i'll give it, with cheerful mood.
Sometimes, life can be cruel. But I take it. I take with a big heart. Bring it on bitches! I may be ridiculed, I may be cautioned but I'll never be stopped. Oddly so, I feel tired. Stressed out. Life is indeed a box full of chocolates. You never know what you will get. But it no longer matters. It must never matter. But that's until today.
I feel the urge to no longer give a damn, not one bit. Bahala na, the famous Filipino saying goes. I wanna be free.
But what does this mean? Giving up on the one thing I so believe in? I am not asking for anything grand, anything in silver and gold.
All I am asking is we all enjoy the sunset for the sunset that it is. The full moon that it is, sans embellishments, just the full moon hanging in the dark blue sky.
It is futile. Futile to try to please everyone. That is true. But that won't stop me from trying.
This world will never be the world that we want this to be. Never. I don't have to tell you why.
Because we don't wallow in the why, we move on. We no longer search for answers, we become the answers.
We may fail others, but knowing that we try our damn best, all we could ever say is, it sucks to be them.
I know I should not have said those words. But that's the whole point of it all. We say what we need to say and never regret it. Because at that instant, that's what I wanted to say, that's what I needed to say.
I guess, what's left to say is this.
Do what you think is right. But the moment you mess with my brown ass, your dark butt crack might just be the only thing that will be served to you every morning, every noon and every night!
That was uncalled for. But like I said, that's what I needed to say at that moment. And nothing, I mean nothing, would have changed that.
Now that that is out of my system, I'll be ok. I am ok. I am good! Ready to take on the world and I have never felt better!
Sometimes, life can be cruel. But I take it. I take with a big heart. Bring it on bitches! I may be ridiculed, I may be cautioned but I'll never be stopped. Oddly so, I feel tired. Stressed out. Life is indeed a box full of chocolates. You never know what you will get. But it no longer matters. It must never matter. But that's until today.
I feel the urge to no longer give a damn, not one bit. Bahala na, the famous Filipino saying goes. I wanna be free.
But what does this mean? Giving up on the one thing I so believe in? I am not asking for anything grand, anything in silver and gold.
All I am asking is we all enjoy the sunset for the sunset that it is. The full moon that it is, sans embellishments, just the full moon hanging in the dark blue sky.
It is futile. Futile to try to please everyone. That is true. But that won't stop me from trying.
This world will never be the world that we want this to be. Never. I don't have to tell you why.
Because we don't wallow in the why, we move on. We no longer search for answers, we become the answers.
We may fail others, but knowing that we try our damn best, all we could ever say is, it sucks to be them.
I know I should not have said those words. But that's the whole point of it all. We say what we need to say and never regret it. Because at that instant, that's what I wanted to say, that's what I needed to say.
I guess, what's left to say is this.
Do what you think is right. But the moment you mess with my brown ass, your dark butt crack might just be the only thing that will be served to you every morning, every noon and every night!
That was uncalled for. But like I said, that's what I needed to say at that moment. And nothing, I mean nothing, would have changed that.
Now that that is out of my system, I'll be ok. I am ok. I am good! Ready to take on the world and I have never felt better!
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Busy
Busy? I am. I've got loads of things that I have to do. I usually know that I am becoming a slave to my work when I suddenly chance upon one of my hard bound books on my table untouched for weeks already. Like the one I started reading last January, Isabel Allende's Daughter of Fortune. I don't know if you read her but she's the author of the House of Spirits.
Daughter of Fortune is about Eliza Sommers, orphaned at birth. She is to fall in love with Joaquin, a lowly clerk as described by the summary. And she gets pregnant by Joaquin who decides to go work in San Francisco (they are from Chile). She follows him.
The novel starts with "Everyone is born with some special talent, and Eliza Sommers discovered early on that she had two: a good sense of smell and a good memory."
Of course, I still can't tell you what happens to Eliza in San Francisco. How she even decided to go there. How she met and fell in love with Joaquin. I am curious though if Isabel describes in one of the chapters in the novel a love scene. I envy writers who could vividly describe such scenes, you would think it's their scene they are engraving!
The book cover has a picture of a woman with short, boyish bobbed hair and a sharp look. Looking straight at me. She wears a pair of earrings with only the left in sight. She has her left arm angled at her waist. She wears a black long sleeved dress with lace patterns at each end of the sleeves. Embracing her neck is a pattern laced as well. And a golden pendant secures this lace in place. Her brows are trimmed. She just looks straight at me, as if asking intently and with urgency, when I will finish the book.
It's May now, and I still am at the book's first chapter.
I miss those days when I almost had all the time to read. I even remember bringing a book and reading it on a jeepney ride to work. But of late, time has been so elusive. And to think that I am only an instructor at a local university (read: UNDERPAID).
Once I get the chance, I'll devour every book I have yet to read! And I have over twenty in my shelf! Everytime I chance upon a book worth my while, I buy it, even if I don't have the time to read it yet. I encourage you to do the same.
Reading is bliss (when you are not busy).
Daughter of Fortune is about Eliza Sommers, orphaned at birth. She is to fall in love with Joaquin, a lowly clerk as described by the summary. And she gets pregnant by Joaquin who decides to go work in San Francisco (they are from Chile). She follows him.
The novel starts with "Everyone is born with some special talent, and Eliza Sommers discovered early on that she had two: a good sense of smell and a good memory."
Of course, I still can't tell you what happens to Eliza in San Francisco. How she even decided to go there. How she met and fell in love with Joaquin. I am curious though if Isabel describes in one of the chapters in the novel a love scene. I envy writers who could vividly describe such scenes, you would think it's their scene they are engraving!
The book cover has a picture of a woman with short, boyish bobbed hair and a sharp look. Looking straight at me. She wears a pair of earrings with only the left in sight. She has her left arm angled at her waist. She wears a black long sleeved dress with lace patterns at each end of the sleeves. Embracing her neck is a pattern laced as well. And a golden pendant secures this lace in place. Her brows are trimmed. She just looks straight at me, as if asking intently and with urgency, when I will finish the book.
It's May now, and I still am at the book's first chapter.
I miss those days when I almost had all the time to read. I even remember bringing a book and reading it on a jeepney ride to work. But of late, time has been so elusive. And to think that I am only an instructor at a local university (read: UNDERPAID).
Once I get the chance, I'll devour every book I have yet to read! And I have over twenty in my shelf! Everytime I chance upon a book worth my while, I buy it, even if I don't have the time to read it yet. I encourage you to do the same.
Reading is bliss (when you are not busy).
Monday, April 28, 2008
Thank you
I was watching the video streaming of UPLB's graduation ceremonies last Saturday. I saw a number of familiar faces receiving their diplomas in their togas, shaking the hands of the Chancellor and all. For a while there, I was excited. Probably because I miss UPLB, a lot. I miss my friends there. Then it hit me. A sudden pang of both desire and remorse. Desire because I wanted to be there, not as a member of the audience, but as part of the graduating class. Remorse because, I was not able to finish my thesis, my lone ticket to receiving that Master's degree I so desire. I wanted my net connection to lag if not be disconnected at once. But it didn't happen. And so I sat through it. Everyone was requested to stand up for UP Naming Mahal. I remember my undergrad graduation (April 26, 2001), the one time I sung the UP Naming Mahal with much fervor and emotion.
The fireworks that was displayed was spectacular! The traditional rally which used to be the highlight was overshadowed by the fireworks display, lighting in different colors and forms the dark, dark sky.
I think what happened next was nothing short of a cleenex moment. I had to get out, I had to do something. I went to Chinito's Camins where we usually have our fellowship. Interestingly enough, I was not in the mood for a drink. I was just there for like 30 minutes. We transferred to Catribo and sat comfortably at UL's. Still I wasn't in the mood for any drink.
I was searching for something I didn't know what.
Then there you were, in your black Adidas jacket, a pair of denim shorts and slippers. That was all I needed. You were all I needed to see to be comforted. You didn't even have to say anything. You didn't even have to see me.
I was suddenly craving for beer, had a pitcher of four seasons gin and two shots of margarita blue and a bottle of San Mig Light.
I went home, contented, feeling light but not wobbly.
I got inside my room. Turned off the lights, lied down on my bed and whispered, "thank you."
The fireworks that was displayed was spectacular! The traditional rally which used to be the highlight was overshadowed by the fireworks display, lighting in different colors and forms the dark, dark sky.
I think what happened next was nothing short of a cleenex moment. I had to get out, I had to do something. I went to Chinito's Camins where we usually have our fellowship. Interestingly enough, I was not in the mood for a drink. I was just there for like 30 minutes. We transferred to Catribo and sat comfortably at UL's. Still I wasn't in the mood for any drink.
I was searching for something I didn't know what.
Then there you were, in your black Adidas jacket, a pair of denim shorts and slippers. That was all I needed. You were all I needed to see to be comforted. You didn't even have to say anything. You didn't even have to see me.
I was suddenly craving for beer, had a pitcher of four seasons gin and two shots of margarita blue and a bottle of San Mig Light.
I went home, contented, feeling light but not wobbly.
I got inside my room. Turned off the lights, lied down on my bed and whispered, "thank you."
Sunday, April 27, 2008
The PHILIPPINES
It was all over the news. Director Dante Mendoza's "Serbis" made it in the list of nominees in the Palme d'Or of the Cannes Film Festival. Being the news savvy that I am, I searched the web for additional information. I checked out the official website of the Cannes but I found nothing. So I googled it instead. There were a number of hits. Checking the results one by one (excluding those from Philippine pages), there was no mention of "Serbis." Not giving up, one entry aroused my interest. It reads "Cannes Film Festival snubs British movies for the second year running." And there I found this: Eight of the directors on the 19-strong shortlist have never appeared in Cannes' main competition before and hail from Belgium, Turkey, France, China, Argentina, the Philippines, Brazil and Italy. I always love reading this. Every time an article has to refer to the Philippines, there's the. Of course that's not to mean anything special, it's only the English language's being queer. But nonetheless, I love it. I love the Philippines.
We may be a small country, but we are a great one too. We may have looked stupid in the eyes of the world, what with the US health insurance scam (the latest among the many scandals that involved the Philippines), we must never forget the more important things that we have taught the world. We are after all, Asia's first democratic country. But I don't have to mention that we still need a lot of work to make democracy work in the grass roots rather just in the halls of Congress (even in Congress, the light of democracy has never been dimmer, almost put out) and articles such as this. We must never forget how we, as one nation, taught the world how to bloodlessly oust a dictator. And I know, in the near future we are going to teach the world that we can stand as one nation in making the Philippines a greater nation.
We must never forget Paeng's right arm. There's Manny Pacquiao's too. Both his left and right fists.
We must of course never forget the many Filipinos who have sacrificed family to be able to work abroad. This is no easy feat, and for that, I commend all of you. They are, after all, helping the economy keep afloat with their monthly remittances reaching record highs month after month.
Let us also not forget those who have decided to stay. They, too, are heroes. Seeing that the battle has to be fought here and not anywhere else is as well not an easy feat. Never mind those who have stayed to spread mayhem and chaos (read: politicians). One has to just look at the jeepney driver who tirelessly brings us to our workplace morning after morning. Our metro aids who put to heart the care of our streets, dawn after dawn.
The list is a very long one. But I will not end this without mentioning and giving the importance that they have long deserved, our farmers. They have long been ignored by government. They have long been sidelined by the autocrats who think they are gods and us, their slaves! I hope, the Republic that is the Philippines will not have to pay for this.
They say there is a rice crisis. There might be truth to that though quite a number argue otherwise. But one has to just look at the rising price of rice to know that there is something wrong and that we need to act, now.
Serbis, by the way, is a movie about a family that maintains a prostitution den to get by.
I pray to dear God, that the administration will see reason in ceasing to pimp the country, my beloved country, to capitalists that selfishly see profit only.
We may be a small country, but we are a great one too. We may have looked stupid in the eyes of the world, what with the US health insurance scam (the latest among the many scandals that involved the Philippines), we must never forget the more important things that we have taught the world. We are after all, Asia's first democratic country. But I don't have to mention that we still need a lot of work to make democracy work in the grass roots rather just in the halls of Congress (even in Congress, the light of democracy has never been dimmer, almost put out) and articles such as this. We must never forget how we, as one nation, taught the world how to bloodlessly oust a dictator. And I know, in the near future we are going to teach the world that we can stand as one nation in making the Philippines a greater nation.
We must never forget Paeng's right arm. There's Manny Pacquiao's too. Both his left and right fists.
We must of course never forget the many Filipinos who have sacrificed family to be able to work abroad. This is no easy feat, and for that, I commend all of you. They are, after all, helping the economy keep afloat with their monthly remittances reaching record highs month after month.
Let us also not forget those who have decided to stay. They, too, are heroes. Seeing that the battle has to be fought here and not anywhere else is as well not an easy feat. Never mind those who have stayed to spread mayhem and chaos (read: politicians). One has to just look at the jeepney driver who tirelessly brings us to our workplace morning after morning. Our metro aids who put to heart the care of our streets, dawn after dawn.
The list is a very long one. But I will not end this without mentioning and giving the importance that they have long deserved, our farmers. They have long been ignored by government. They have long been sidelined by the autocrats who think they are gods and us, their slaves! I hope, the Republic that is the Philippines will not have to pay for this.
They say there is a rice crisis. There might be truth to that though quite a number argue otherwise. But one has to just look at the rising price of rice to know that there is something wrong and that we need to act, now.
Serbis, by the way, is a movie about a family that maintains a prostitution den to get by.
I pray to dear God, that the administration will see reason in ceasing to pimp the country, my beloved country, to capitalists that selfishly see profit only.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Cold
Last weekend was a lazy one for me. For starters, I was down with a terrible flu! But that did not stop me from cleaning the kitchen. Exhausted, I decided to relax. I asked my mom for chicken soup and settled comfortably on the couch. First up was Juno. It was my fourth. And it still made me cry. I know, it's not a tear jerker. But borrowing Brenda's (Juno's step mom) words, I am not made of stone. I finsihed the bowl of chicken soup and was ready for the next one in the list, Click. And I don't have to say it still made me cry even if it was my 6th. I stopped liking Jennifer Aniston after she and Brad called it quits. But my sister wanted to see the Break Up. She, Jennifer, dated Vince Vaughn right? And eventually broke up with him. Oh Jennifer! Don't worry, she did not make me cry. But Garry did! I wish someone make me dinner and say that he loves me, dearly. And into a deep slumber I fell. I didn't want to make my bed when I woke up. Didn't feel like waking up. I felt like the whole world was on my shoulders. But I could not close my eyes either. So I helped my self with toast and some reheated chicken soup. Then another DVD caught my ever watchful eyes. There was Another Gay Movie, Dead or Alive, Fly Boys, Accepted and Krrish (thanks to my friendly pirate neighbor). I gave Accepted a try and I liked it. I remember the day when I got accpetance letters from the schools I applied in. And that was like a gazillion years ago! I can't imagine how my life would have turned out if not one college accepted me. I guess I was one lucky bitch. :) I was hesitant to watch Krrish. I haven't heard of it. My hunch turned out to be right. It's an Indian movie. I've read that Indian movies always have song and dance numbers between scenes. So I picture early 90's Filipino movies. At first it was funny. You see, Krishna had a rock hard chiseled body, think Matthew McConaughey, er, Sylvester Stallone. Then I got the hang of it. And for one moment there, kinilig ako! The movie starred Hrithik Roshan (I googled him and he has made over 20 movies) and he's got wonderful eyes! Just imagine (lol). Then it rained. It rained and it's summer! I suddenly realized, I was with flu, it's raining, summer classes are to start tomorrow and I have a 7:30! Just imagine (lol), a 7:30 for summer! It sucks to be me, bigs time!
I slept early last night, right after PBB. I woke up at around 5:30, still feeling heavy. It was cold. And you, you were just staring at me blankly. I said hello and not one smile from you. It made me feel colder. You, with your almost blue sclera, almost yellow skin. Your jaw almost square. Traces of pimple scars on both your cheeks. And your hair, your unkempt hair. I wanted you to smile, I needed you to smile back. One little grin.
Nada. Just that cold stare, blank and cold.
*Sniff*
I slept early last night, right after PBB. I woke up at around 5:30, still feeling heavy. It was cold. And you, you were just staring at me blankly. I said hello and not one smile from you. It made me feel colder. You, with your almost blue sclera, almost yellow skin. Your jaw almost square. Traces of pimple scars on both your cheeks. And your hair, your unkempt hair. I wanted you to smile, I needed you to smile back. One little grin.
Nada. Just that cold stare, blank and cold.
*Sniff*
Friday, April 11, 2008
As often as I could
And by "as often as I could" I dont mean every five minutes... Corny, I know. It sucks to be me!
AdSense
I recently checked my AdSense account (read: 10 seconds ago). Of course, I did not expect to see over a hundred dollars there. I also did not expect these words from my friend: "Huh? Chene gale kien tan visit di tu yu blog???" OUch, bigs time (Marvs, borrow ha)! Anyway, I am back! And I intend to update this as often as I could! :)
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