The World is A++ Subway

'Tis

2006-12-11T00:45:00.001-08:00

How time flies faster than you think it would be. What's scariest is the fact that we are never going to be young again. And what's scariest is the idea that someday we might get old without a feckin' job.

'Tis the season when we never really think of money unless you have no money at all. 'Tis the season when we just dough out our cash without even thinking that in the year 2007 we will have nothing. 'Tis the season when we barely think of ourselves. And definitely 'tis also the season when I will be celebrating my beerday, so in a sense I will be thinking about money, I will not dough out any money, and certainly will think of only myself. Forget 'tis season.

Kidding!

That is why I hate this season because it is also my beerday season so definitely lots of dough will be thrown out of my pocket. I just doughed out bajillion cash for my sister earlier and will be spending more on my beerday if I have anything left.

I hate 'tis season.

Lately

2006-11-30T02:43:00.000-08:00

LATELY, I just downloaded the "Lately" video by Skunk Anansie. I haven't heard the song yet due to the complexity of the PC that has no speaker and headset, but generally I always liked SA videos.

LATELY, I have been feeling depressed. Not a news to everyone, I always felt this way when I have gone tired of the things I do. Yes, I'm sick and tired. Yes, I'm sorry but I'm sick and tired already. Kill. Kill. Kill. Me.

LATELY, I have been looking for diversions to get me through this humongous boredom. I tried looking for part-time jobs, McDo check, Korean tutor check, aspiring 'ngo-ngo' DJ check, metro aide check. Actually, I haven't done anything to do something about it, maybe next year. Yes, procrastination is my surname.

Not so LATELY, I wrote a poem. Yes, I will always say yes, I'm a po-et. And this is what I wrote, about depression and mania:

+++++++++++

God, there is no justice in the world.
I can't think of anything anymore.
Maybe later I'll write a poem.
Yes, procrastinate.
Procrastinate more.
Bow.#

Next Option?

2006-11-19T05:18:00.000-08:00

I don't know what to do with myself. I don't know what to do with myself. I don't know what to do with myself.

Even if I keep repeating those words, I will never ever know what to do with myself. Hmmm... Thinking wouldn't help either. For now, I don't know if I have chosen the right career. I believed I'm more inclined on the creative side. I'm an arteest (stress on the second syllable), or so I believed. I am a pleaser who easily gets frustrated and who is also hard to please. For this reason, I am quite aware that I got the wrong job, but you'll never know; no one really does. You can't always have what you want. Cliche. Cliche. Life's a cliche.

And thus the burning question: If this is not it, then what would be the next option? Hmmm... Suicide?! Kidding. I really don't know. Based on the resources I have, I really have nothing in my hands. Let the ball roll, they say. But with the presence of inertia, there's never a straight direction. Keep on rollin' sideways.

Bleak

2006-10-15T05:31:00.000-07:00

My future is bleak. I'm a "present" person; I enjoy the moment, but I also think of the future; and as I have said, it is bleak, blurry, scary. I don't know what I want, what I really want, what I will become for the rest of my life, calling on 700 Club. Where will I start, I don't know. All those "Your future starts here" crap scares me, because really how will I know that this is the start of the race, the beginning of the puzzle, the "x marks the spot" portion. I hope I know.

My future is bleak, as bleak as the ending of this thing I'm writing about. No ending. Really. Bleak.

Panic! at the Cubicle

2006-10-08T06:26:00.000-07:00

If you don't know what to do, as a normal person, you would panic. As a not-so-normal one, you make a scene worthy of a Golden Globe for best dramatic actor. I hope I did the first normal thing to do, but I certainly remembered I made a scene (not so worthy yet very believable) only a few quite noticed, damn! It was my first take on my job (I am not particularly sure if it is OK to discuss it in here, so I'll just be pretty vague about it). It was horrible as I thought it would be, but I panicked anyway, so much for the confidence.

I never thought this thing would really be that hard for a non-experienced idiot as I am. Uhmm, well, statistics show it will be. The first tries were finished, and I am still struggling to find that edge in me. Everybody thought I would be great (for this, I also thought I will be), but then just like those ironic twists on movies, I stumbled, stuttered, and for the love of all things holy, killed my self-esteem along the way. I was crushed; crushed as an egg falling from the edge of a cliff. I could have chosen a better description for that, the heck I can't; Humpty Dumpty's the first thing that comes in my mind. Well, this is never the first time; I have a good share of embarassments, TMTM (too many to mention).

The Cube, the place I will abhor for the rest of my life or should I say, more probably, the rest of the years before someone will pull me out of this pithole (my sister, it's you, don't try to mock me!); was a little claustrophobic. Although, I don't have that kind of fear and I have been there gazillion times, it might be one of the reasons I crapped my ass off. I was a mess and the place is altogether messy, lots of worried faces struggling for some help, and I think I was never alone. I was just one with the crowd. They are laughing with me not at me. Or I hope so.

I know this is just a phase, and everyone must do all things for the first time. Now, it will be my second time and I'm not quite sure I will be able to get through to it, maybe the next time; I'm really not sure. But for sure, things will get pretty sticky in the following days, just like the armpit of someone I know. Hmmm, how do you practice multi-tasking if you're panicking?!! Oh, tomorrow will be another mess I will try to wipe clean. So help me All Things Holy! ~~~

Morbidity and Mortality

2006-09-25T22:02:00.000-07:00

Paranoia. We live in paranoia where transient lives filter every molecules confined in space. Mortality is either brought by natural causes (calamities, diseases, etc.) or the not-so natural ones (murder, accidents, etc.). We never really know what could become of life after death. And why am I talking about this abomination? Well, morbidity is my lunch.

Paranoia. When I die, I was thinking it would be either due to drowning, hit by a speeding bus, airplane crash, eaten by a shark after a ship sank, or abducted by aliens and will never be heard of ever again (I just made up the 'aliens thing' because it is way too cool), but never by a degenerative disease or a virus/bacteria contracted from a passenger in a jeepney. I always thought my death would be something very sudden, something I could never prepare for, like accidents or alien abduction. That's why I am so paranoid. I might get a disease right now and know my exact day of death, that's way too uncool. I can't imagine the dialogue I will have with my family and friends, all the sobbings, the sniffs, the sobs. Although I look good when I cry according to one of my friends, I could never imagine myself crying with all these tubes hanging from my body. That's way too pathetic, obviously. I'd like to elaborate more on this but I'm afraid the person sitting right next to me might have a TB, and this is an airconditioned room, droplets, droplets.

Paranoia. They say only paranoids survive. But in this world, nobody survives. We'll all die anyway.

Three Deaths

2006-09-17T03:12:00.000-07:00

I've been through three different deaths these past few weeks. First, my former superior's mom died, then a relative died, and just this week, a friend's father died. They were all in three different places, Dumaguete, Iloilo, and Cadiz (Bacolod) respectively. This got me into thinking, what are the odds of these happening?

Deep inside, I've been suffering my own death. I've been dying to get out from this position I am in right now. It's pretty hard to be me right in this very moment, struggling to get away from the memories that I left behind in Dumaguete, from the people that holds me back from doing new things in Iloilo, and from the harshness of the new environment I have chosen to dwell in at the moment here in Bacolod. There's too much of dying in all these places and I, too, want to end this. I've been dying inside, really dying, my heart bleeds. But death for me is a celebration of life. May be I am celebrating life deep inside, rejoicing these momentary changes that I thought will influence me as a person, triumphing this stage of life where I know I have to eventually make a choice, a risk that will plunge me in depths of realism.

It's been pretty hard to be me lately. And I'm dying to move forward and get over this. Pass me the Prozac.

Sink or Swimmin'

2006-09-17T02:42:00.000-07:00

Once in your life, you make a stupid decision. I might think this could be one, but after some thinking (yes, I do think), may be this is not as worse as I might imagined it to be. Or it is. Surely, there are times in your life that you seem to struggle over some decisions that you haplessly make. There are also times that you seem to doubt your capabilities, you have lost your confidence, you have stepped on shit, but in a way, these times gave you lessons to ponder. We make mistakes; we always do, and if this one will end up as one of those, then well may be God has other purpose for me. But I don't like to think it that way. I don't want to make this one as something I'll cry over my pillows at night. I have no time to wash them.

In every changes that we encounter, we make risks which will either make or break us. I'm not ready yet to crumble in pieces. It's do or die, sink or swim.

And I am swimming baby, yeah!!!

Up and Moving. Again.

2006-09-03T22:31:00.000-07:00

Mountain bag, duffel bag, knapsack, trolley, carton boxes, plastic bags: the basics of travelling.

"When are you going?," my roommate asked. I never really plan the things that I do. If I'm sure that I'm gonna do it, that's the time I start spilling the beans. No more mushy-moshy sob-sobs, but deep inside it's hard. It's always hard to start all over again. From cities to cities, new faces, new friendships, I'm always bound to move. Sigh.

"Wednesday." I said in that soft tone of voice, the voice that wants to be stopped, "oh no, you're not going anywhere." But once I have made my decision, that's it, that's really it.

"Next week?"

"No. This week."

"Bieoootch." This is what my friendship means here.

Mountain bag, duffel bag, knapsack, trolley, carton boxes, plastic bags: the basics of a homeless.

Goodbye and Good Luck

2006-08-31T01:56:00.000-07:00

Parting is such a sweet sorrow. Goodbye friends. Goodbye beautiful city. Goodbye. Hope the new city will be as welcoming as this one, will be as nourishing as this one, will be as warm as this one. Hope the next year will be glorious as this one. Hope I am making the right if not better decision. Hope I won’t regret this. I’m crossing my fingers.

Parting is full of shit. I’d rather resort to partying. Nomad is an island. Boo-hoo, hobo.

Home, Home, I’m Coming Home

2006-08-26T01:55:00.000-07:00

Status Message: I-H-I-C

After almost nine months (238 days to be exact), I’m going back home. There was really no plan of going home. I always thought that I will only be going back once every year. But thing’s changed. I may be indecisive but once I decided on something even how ridiculously impossible they are, I’ll go for it. That is what they call spontaneity, I call it pride. *smirk smirk*

My going back home was triggered by three different incidents, one was job related, I was suspended, but then again I was not, may be I was just tested, but I bought it anyway. The other is my parents especially my father wants me back home very badly. My father obviously missed me so much that he gets into a drinking spree every time he remembers that I don’t even check them up, that I have already forgotten about them, and I’m one great ingrate. The last one is (as you can see in my previous blog) the latest incident in Guimaras, which depresses me a lot, so I wanted to see it for myself. I want to know the extent of the damage, how well everyone is doing to rehabilitate the area, and also I wanted to weep uncontrollably, throwing myself to the coastline now tainted black. *boo hoo*

I was actually supposed to leave yesterday but for some mystical reasons my ATM card was captured and at the same time there was no cash dispensed. Oh God, oh please God, why me? Why at this time? Why at this very moment? I almost wept and hurtled the ATM machine (all I did was pat with minimal force the side of the machine because the guard was peering through my back) but the security guard was really reassuring that he says after knowing him for a seconds that this was a sign that I should not leave this place, may be the bus will collide with another bus, or the fast craft will slip and sink because of the oil slicks, hmmm, morbid thoughts (knock on wood). *tok tok*

I will be traveling alone early tomorrow. I will be meeting strangers by the bus. I will be rubbing elbows with people who in a way are already used with this early traveling. I will let my hair brushed by the coldness of morning winds. And never comb them back for sometimes I look good with an untidy hair or never really looked good at all, I just wished. I will be squeezing myself in long queues of passengers trying to get a ticket to Iloilo, some of them do this routinely, some of them will be doing this for the first time, some of them I’ll get to have a conversation with, some of them I know, some of them will not sit on the supposed number they are on, some of them I will give a sharp stare for getting my seat, some of them will gush (oooh aaah) at the sight of oil slicks floating amass on the bright blue sea, some of them will chatter noisily that I will throw a pocketful of Swiss knives at their back. Aaah, the nomads. I can’t wait to see my grandmother. *yeah yeah*

Hush. I-H-I-C. Iloilo, here I come.

Spill No More

2006-08-21T01:33:00.000-07:00

For the dearest Guimaras and Taklong

I have watched this show on cable TV about how to control oil spills once it happened. They had a little simulation on one of the waters of New York on how to stop the spreading of oil spills. They used detergents (of what kind, I don’t know) and sprayed on the affected area through water vessels and aircrafts. These environment-friendly detergents work by disintegrating large amounts of oil into very tiny globules easily consumable by the marine species. By this, they have easily contained the spill in just little amount of time. I’m hoping that this country would have done the same to the oil spill that happened off the coast of Guimaras. It is so depressing that I can’t even imagine its long-term effects on tourism and marine life of the island. I am worried about the future of Taklong Island and the coral reefs, mangrove forests, and seagrass beds that surrounded it. Taklong Island was one of the areas hit by the said sinking of oil bunker of Petron. The government has already sought help from foreign countries and hopefully this thing will be solved before the damage will become so humungous that it will take decades to reconstruct again the area. It has affected many livelihoods that solely depend on fishing. And the mangrove forest, seaweed beds, and coral reefs that took years to be made were just wiped out overnight. It will take decades (approximately 30 years for mangrove forests) to replenish again the once beautiful beaches of Guimaras. What will happen now to its white beaches, to Nemos and anemones, to the colorful lives swimming haplessly underwater, to the people who finds solace on sunset by the beach, to the locals who finds sustenance to the abundance of the sea, to the people like me who prefers swimming/diving than shopping, to the memories once surrounded by joyous snapshots beside the giant clams, to tourists who fancies the solemnity of the island than the slapdash nightlife of Boracay, to ordinary people who washes themselves everyday in the sea? We have to wait till then.

The solution to prevent this from ever happening again is for the people to reduce their dependence on oil. That may be very hard, but as ingenious as we are, we can always find ways. And to further avert it, I urged the Philippine government or the world itself to authorize regulations that force if not require both the shipping industry and the oil companies to operate under the highest standards of ships and crews. I believe the captain (if he deserves to be called as such) of the said craft has little training or knowledge on how to operate the vessel that sank in Guimaras Strait. It was definitely an ecological time bomb that has long-term and possibly permanent damage to the environment and livelihoods of the people. Again, we still have to wait. But by waiting, we are only letting this happen, so we have to act now, make a choice, stand up, and prevent these things from occurring in the future. And by the way, please oh please, let Petron and its sister companies pay for the rehabilitation of the said area and not the taxpayers’ money.

I Too...

I too will weep with the wails of the whales
and the humming of the wind
while it caresses the very soul that feeds
on reminiscence of sun pricking the hairy pale arms,
the waves that send bodies come tumbling down,
the blowing air that dries and chicken-skins our wet bodies,
the cold night by the beach that shivers our feet
and crabs our arms to wrap ourselves
if there is no one around to wrap ourselves into.

I too will snivel with the bawling and thunderous waves,
with the sirens of bamboos brushing their slender bodies together,
with the blubbers of bubbles stroking the soles of my feet,
with the purring of distant creatures whom we assume watching over us,
with the droning of the night that will succumb to the rising of the sun
and will once again cry in vain to the mercilessness of mankind.

This black gooey oil will forever soil
the tiny flappers of young sea turtles
that once innocently strode over, gasping for air,
floating and paddling its arms on the surface,
and washed aback to shore lifeless.

PS: All the mangrove reforestation and carol transplantation were now in vain. So help us God!

PS: All the coral transplantation, mangrove reforestation were all now in vain. So help us God.

Forgotten

2006-08-20T02:10:00.000-07:00

I have forgotten about my blog. I have nothing to write, actually. I have run out of topics, and I’ve been boring and annoying myself lately. Maybe that explains the lack of creative nerve cells running in my head. But, there never were anyway.

I can only use my television and DVD player during weekends when my roommates go home to their hometowns. So these past weekends, I have been doing movie marathons and sadly waking up early because of work. Last night, I watched The Dreamers by Bernardo Bertolucci (Stealing Beauty, Last Tango in Paris). It clearly became one of my favorite films. I was engrossed by the whole mystery (thriller) of the film that even the explicit scenes, I no longer mind. I like how the director weaves old films to parallel with the happenings in the story; I especially liked the rolling-over-to-the-river-type suicide coinciding with Isabelle trying to suffocate her and her sleeping buddies with the gas. The acting was great and it reminded me of Y Tu Mama Tambien, and other “threesome” films.

Last week, I watched another twisted French film filled with fascinating and unsettling views on incest, homosexuality, bondage, rodentophobia, dysfunctional families. Sitcom is a film by the young director, Francois Ozon (Swimming Pool, 8 Women) which tells how a family was controlled by the coming of a pet rat, and how the mother always talks things out much like what happens in sitcoms. It’s very, very black; you might need the lights turned on. Hey, that was racist!

The other films are too boring I even forgot their titles. I love weekends. I love French films. I want to go to Paris right now.

BTW: I am writing this short story slash novel (since it took me a great deal of time to finish it, I’m not even halfway) for a friend which is supposedly subtly based on her, but then it was almost her, I might need to let her sign a waiver or something.

Cats & Dogs

2006-08-11T18:44:00.000-07:00

When it rains...it floods.

Golden Rule

2006-08-04T23:56:00.000-07:00

Do unto others... then run!!!

Survey! Survey!

2006-08-03T23:39:00.000-07:00

I found this survey somewhere out there over the rainbow bluebirds sing. May be I’m just bored.

Maybe I should…
…do nothing. I have been doing nothing all my life.

I love…
…you Sabado, pati buong Linggo. Hintay ka lang Jollibee, andyan na ako. I hate this song and Jollibee, because I prefer the caramel sundae of McDo.

My family is…
…not around right now. They are somewhere in the universe but not within 100-meter radius or 10-kilometer radius. They’re overseas, but this does not necessarily mean out of the country. They’re just there. There. Yes, there.

My favorite color is…
…not a color after all, guess what it is?

I lost my…
…sanity when I started studying in UP. Who is sane, anyway?

I don’t understand…
…French, but they do sound gay, cursing, angry, or something. They sometimes sound like Italian, Spanish, Russian, or German, if you cover your ears and not listen to the accent just to the movement of their lips. Foreign languages are all the same if you don’t understand them.

Walking on…
…shit is a good experience. It is like walking on life every goddamn day.

I want to…
…do nothing. I guess I have already said this.

Love is…
…not found in hell, or so what the bible says. Ok, I’m not really a reader.

Somewhere, someone is…
…peeing on the shower. I do it too. It’s fun. You should try it.

People would say that I’m…
…nothing and they are everything. Look how fair life is.

I will always…
…be doing this survey and other stupid-ish crap. They make my life less boring, albeit I am doing this because I am bored in the first place.

Forever is…
…too much for me to handle. I am not an atheist; it is just too long, you know.

I never want to…
…die old and be the joke of every silly young kids around, and smell like urine everyday. That’s gross. I love my lola by the way so don’t get me wrong.

When I wake up in the morning I…
…see light and think that this is the end of the tunnel. Morbidity is my breakfast. Hey, I don’t eat breakfast.

Life is full of…
…queuing, falling in line, waiting, dancing in the nude, setting the house on fire, shit (heaps of them), crap (hordes of them), cow manure (mountains of them), fuck-locking dogs, dirty laundries, skeletons in the closets, gossip mongering, politicians, bastards, mongrels, asswipes, war, killing, dying, and ultimately lots of living.

I think the current president is…
…a maniac. ‘Nuf said.

My past is incredibly…
…my past. I don’t want to recall.

I get annoyed when…
…I remember my past and past mistakes. It sucks to repeat those all over again or just even remembering them.

Parties are for…
…partygoers. If it has a lot of food and drinks, I might as well join.

My dog is…
…dead for biting me on the face. He was not even my dog, but I love dogs. I just don’t like them shitting everywhere.

My cat is…
…my grandmother’s. I don’t really own anything. I’m afraid they will turn into something abominable, something that will eat me alive while I’m asleep, something that will suddenly stick a melon baller into your eyeballs, something that is not a thing at all. Something tells me I am about to wear a straightjacket.

I wish…
…that all my wishes will come true, but then again, what are my wishes?

Kisses are the worst when…
…they are done in the wrong places without motivation. Huh?! What?!

I have low tolerance for people who…
…get into my nerves. I kind of shy away from them or just diss them blatantly. I’m that rude sometimes.

Tomorrow I’m going to…
…do the same thing all over again, which kind of sucks, but that’s my life…boring.

I really want…
…to eat caramel sundae right now. But based on statistics, it will not happen. Also I want to strangle myself for having this very bad migraine.

If I had a million dollars…...I would not be doing this survey. I will have someone to do it for me. But then again, one million dollars is not enough. I want more.

Guys are…
…guys as to boys are boys. This does not make sense, but who does?

Girls are…
…evil. Yeah, girls are evil as proven by this equation. Click it good, click it real good. http://www.scripting.com/images/mathematicalProofWomen.gif

This survey…
…affirms that there is no hope for me. I am so going to (fill in the blank). Choices are hell, heaven, purgatory, nowhere, everywhere, explode to pieces, and die young. Just text, IAMGOING2 your answer and type on Comments. If you don’t bother at all, just do nothing. Nothing is such a profound word; nothing can be done to change its meaning. Nothing is the thing to do as to nowhere is the place to be. No way, dude!

++++++++++++

This week’s episode of Rock Star: Supernova was the best so far, no one really screwed that bad except for the diva-esque arrangement of Jill (shouting is not singing unless you’re in the heavy metal band), the back-trouble of Lukas (does he like the drummer? I smell love), and the superhero/project runway outfit of Zayra (which is actually good, her antics are the ones that I look forward week after week). I thought Ryan deserved the encore even though his saliva is all over the place. I thought Dilana has a strong performance every week and Storm is creeping slowly to be the contender to beat (Oh, I love her soulful version of David Bowie’s Ccccchhhhaaanges). Toby made a good arrangement with Nirvana’s Pennyroyal Tea, I just don’t like the hugging-an-audience-participant thing, so trying hard. Josh, who deserves to win the American Idol together with Dana, actually made a good Bob Marley-esque take on Sublime’s Santeria, otherwise it was so RnB-ish if not reggae-ish (huh?!, I’m confused). Dana was tattooed and eliminated, Jill should’ve been, but I guess she made Heart proud. Patrice is so not there, no matter she steps it up, other than her strong commitment and dedication, she should already blow into pieces, to top the bitchslap Dave Navarro has given her (or even Ryan). Magni could’ve done better with Coldplay’s Clocks coz I thought he was devoured by the “loud” music of the Grammy-winning song, but I feel his feelings, hmmm.

Zayra must stay longer or else there’ll be no fun, unless of course Storm will start strip dancing, which is quite inevitable.

2006-07-31T01:32:00.000-07:00

Neologisms

I’m not really quite sure if these definitely were already added in the 2006 dictionary. But it will if you continuously use it on a day-to-day basis. I first encountered this from a friend’s (I’m citing her for intellectual property right (IPR) purposes or else she’ll bashed me for assmosing away her being the first. I just wrongly used the word, thus the italicization) forwarded message. It’s quite short so I tried surfing the net for the complete list, again for IPR purposes, click here. I don’t have money to hire a lawyer yet. To make this a tad original, I tried making a more “local” example (not necessarily exact) to each word.

404 - Someone who's clueless. From the World Wide Web error message "404-URL Not Found," meaning that the requested web page could not be located. Used as in: "Don't bother asking him... he's 404, man."
E.g.: Tay, dinelete mo naman yung text message eh, masyado ka namang 404, akin na nga yan.

Assmosis - The process by which some people seem to absorb success and advancement by kissing up to the boss.
E.g.: Tingnan mo yang valedictorian natin, alam ko’ng sikreto nyan, magaling mag assmosis yan.

Adminisphere - The rarefied organizational layers beginning just above the rank and file. Decisions that fall from the adminisphere are often profoundly inappropriate or irrelevant to the problems they were designed to solve.
E.g.: San galing to? Hindi na natin gawain to. Hmmm, galing to sa kabilang adminisphere no?

Alpha Geek - The most knowledgeable, technically proficient person in an office or work group.
E.g.: Akala mo kung sinong alpha geek, eh Word lang ang alam nyan.

Blamestorming - Sitting around in a group discussing why a deadline was missed or a project failed and who was responsible.
E.g.: Sige mag blamestorming na tayo, sino’ng bumasag ng pinggan?

Body Nazis - Hard-core exercise and weightlifting fanatics who look down on anyone who doesn't work out obsessively.
E.g.: Ayan na ang mga Body Nazis naglaladlad, hala takbo na, tapos tayo dyan, tingnan nyo na lang ang mga katawan.

Chainsaw Consultant - An outside expert brought in to reduce the employee head count, leaving the brass with clean hands.
E.g.: Hinala ko naghire si sir ng Chainsaw Consultant, ayaw nyang mabiharan ang kamay nya e. May pagkaPontio Pilato yan e.

Career Limiting Move (CLM) - Used among microserfs (Microsoft Employees) to describe an ill-advised activity. Trashing your boss while he or she is within earshot is a serious CLM.
E.g.: Pinalabas lang nagresign yan kasi sa totoo lang tinanggal yan, C-ni-LM nya kasi si sir, eh may spy yung isa.

Cube Farm - An office filled with cubicles.
E.g.: Amoy tao sa cube farm nyo ah. Hindi lang ako sure if buhay or patay.

Flight Risk - Used to describe employees who are suspected of planning to leave the company or department soon.
E.g.: Puro flight risk mga employees dito so good luck na lang if makita mo pa sila next month.

G.O.O.D. Job - A "Get-Out-Of-Debt" job. A well-paying job people take in order to pay off their debts, one that they will quit as soon as they are solvent again.
E.g.: G.O.O.D. job lang to, pag kaalis ko dito, gawa ako sarili kong company.

Generica - Features of the American (Philippine urban) landscape that are exactly the same no matter where one is, such as fast food joints, strip malls, subdivisions. Used as in: "We were so lost in Generica that I forgot what city we were in."
E.g.: Masyado akong lost sa Generica na nakalimutan kong wala na ako sa Pilipinas. (Tinranslate lang actually)

Idea Hamsters - People who always seem to have their idea generators running.
E.g.: Ask mo yan, idea hamster yan, promise.

Irritainment - Entertainment and media spectacles that are annoying but you find yourself unable to stop watching them. The Erap trials were a prime example.
E.g.: Hirap dito sa mga pulitiko puro irritainment ang ginagawa. Miriam Defensor-Santiago, save us.

Mouse Potato - The online, wired generation's answer to the couch potato.
E.g.: Mouse potato ka rin? Kaya pala namumula na ang mga mata mo.

OhNo-Second - That minuscule fraction of time in which you realize that you've just made a BIG mistake (Oh no!).
E.g.: May ohno-second ka pa para magsuicide, ito ang baril.

Prairie Dogging - When someone yells or drops something loudly in a cube farm, and people's heads pop up over the walls to see what's going on.
E.g.: Hinaan mo ang boses mo, madalas magprairie dogging dito. Ano?!! (shouts) Buntis ka?!!!

Percussive Maintenance - The fine art of whacking the crap out of an electronic device to get it to work again.
E.g.: Huwag kang magpanic, percussive maintenance lang yan. Hayan, nawala na ang monitor.

SITCOMs - What yuppies turn into when they have children and one of them stops working to stay home with the kids. Stands for "Single Income, Two Children, And Oppressive Mortgage".
E.g.: SITCOM ka na rin? Welcome to the club.

Starter Marriage - A short-lived first marriage that ends in divorce with no kids, no property and no regrets.
E.g.: Mahirap magstarter marriage dito, hindi uso divorce dito e, saying nga e, may prospect na ako sana.

Stress Puppy - A person who seems to thrive on being stressed out and whiny.
E.g.: Huwag kang stress puppy kung ayaw mong masaktan, stressed na ako.

Swiped Out - An ATM or credit card that has been rendered useless because the magnetic strip is worn away from extensive use.
E.g.: Naswiped out ATM ko, buti na lang walang laman. Actually, check balance lang ang ginagawa ko dun, kunwari may winiwithdraw, para mahold-up naman, magandang experience yun.

Seagull Manager - A manager, who flies in, makes a lot of noise, craps over everything, and then leaves.
E.g.: Alert Level 5, sea gull manager is within 25-meter radius, earplugs out.

Salmon Day - The experience of spending an entire day swimming upstream only to get screwed and die in the end.
E.g.: Salmon Day na naman. Sino kaya ang susunod na maloloko?

Umfriend - A sexual relation of dubious standing or a concealed intimate relationship, as in "This is Dylan, my ... um...friend."
E.g.: Ang umfriend ko, umfriend nya rin, bale MWF sa akin, TThS sa kanya. Sunday lang pahinga nun.

Yuppie Food Stamps - The ubiquitous $20 bills (Php 100 bills sa Pinoy) spewed out of ATMs everywhere. Often used when trying to split the bill after a meal: "We owe $8 each, but all anybody's got are yuppie food stamps."
E.g.: Dami mo naming yuppie food stamps, pahiram, makakalibre tayo sa jeep nyan sa umaga.

FIN#

Bwak Bwak Mountain

2006-07-30T02:27:00.000-07:00

Brooke Burke Mountain, I wanna see. A threesome of Bwak Bwak, Dilana (severely pierced), and Storm Large (severely damaged Lindsey Lohan), I wanna see. These three bodies slightly canoodling each other’s while standing side by side on stage, I wanna see. The idea of them in the Jacuzzi gives me chills, just like Dilana-singing-any-song chills. Rock Star Supernovapiattos is damn lame without a slight tickle from Dilana heart Bwak Bwak heart Storm giving everyone the thought of a perfect aftershow. Dilana, (taken from Tommy Lee) I wanna. Bwak Bwak, I wanna more. Storm, I wanna most.

This doesn’t make sense, I know.

Pattern(s)

2006-07-27T00:51:00.000-07:00

Back to the compilation. It’s never over, you know. This was supposedly based on the poem, Patterns, by Amy Lowell. If you want to see the poem in its entirety, click this.

Minority

We live a mediocre life. We adhere to what has been there, what has been existent. We succumb to the patterns that make up our lives. Even the cycle of life is one big, humungous, colossal, massive, immense, monstrous, whopping, thumping, behemoth, Brobdingnagian, Bunyanesque, cyclopean, elephantine, enormous, gargantuan, gigantic, Herculean, heroic, jumbo, mammoth, mastodonic, mighty, monumental, prodigious, pythonic, stupendous, titanic, gigantesque, walloping, massy, great (keep on coming Thesaurus), huge (as in Donald Trump huge) pattern. And we are happy about it. No one really cares.

But what makes our lives different is that we have a choice. And one of it is breaking old trampling RULES. (I say we rebel, we rebel yami of Wowowee). As Green Day’s Billy Armstrong would sing, “I want to be the minority/Down with the moral majority/’Coz I want to be the minority.” It is time for us to be original, unique, innovative, inventive, novel, creative, new, unusual, imaginative, exceptional, inimitable, distinctive, matchless, rare (Thesaurus is dead tired), and make our own patterns. For these patterns we make can be the patterns of the future. Be it good or inevitably bad. Bad is always necessary you know; too much good is boring.

And this is our legacy to the next generation. If they will follow it, screw them for lack of originality, style, innovation, novelty, uniqueness, freshness, imagination (stop it, will you, Thes?*).

*Thes – short for Thesaurus, like Dick – short for dictionary, or Insane – short for Insaneclopedia.

Why D World Need Super, man!!!

2006-07-22T18:49:00.000-07:00

Because.

I can never really articulate well how the movie worked for me, but I guess this girl/woman can. Click this.
Parker Posey rocks. And the brownout (in this place, it's normal, Lex Luthor is here) in the middle of Lois & SM flying brouhaha was just in the right time; it broke the momentum for cheesiness.

During the start of the film, if you're arrect enough, you would notice that there is a word ALIENATION (subtly referring to SM's identity) on the scrabble board. How did the pseudo-mother do that (other than there are only seven words available for each player of scrabble; it is possible that she did alien first and added nation) alone? Was she playing with her dog or ummm another alien? Just a thought.

What if Lois was shot in the stomach while conceiving the presumably superbaby, will he get killed or will he catch the bullet and shot it back? Just another thought.

How did the supersex transpired? Maybe I will just stop thinking.

Alone

2006-07-21T02:42:00.000-07:00

If the cat is away, the mouse is alone.

Dull Doll

2006-07-19T22:26:00.000-07:00

Still, this is a part of the compilation. I will organize them sooner if they get a little bit interesting. It is somewhat in response to the poem by Merlie Alunan entitled “Bringing the Dolls”. That’s just it.

I Don’t Have a Doll

We settle for the goodness of something or someone that gives us comfort. Like the ragged doll, we still live in the past. Moving on has always been a hard thing to do. The past still lingers in our memory. And again, just like the doll, it is hard to leave behind.

We can’t trust our memory, but this is our only evidence against the harshness of the present and the unpredictability of the future. This is adaptation. As Sir Charles Darwin would say, it is survival of the fittest. This has nothing to do with this article.

Old tattered dolls always symbolize something (if the red big round dot has historical meaning and whatnot (I’m referring to the flag of Japan) so are other things). Our attachment to it means that we can’t handle the problems of the world by ourselves alone (hmmm, seem redundant). We need someone to help us (hmmm, seem corny). Be it living or nonliving (hmmm, so obvious).

We “bring the doll” because we have to, just like we “bring the bringing” or “bring the okra for pakbet.” There is no connection actually or are there any figures of speech to depict this correlation. (Hyperbole, my Ass). We bring old memories because we have to. We don’t follow everything they tell us because we have to, not all rules are for our good, my “id” smirks in silence (This is very untrue, my “superego” begs to differ). This is a war of Freud’s structure of mind and if you say Freud, they say “sex”. Another correlation out from the pits of my ass, that many, yes. We move on because we have to. We read the poem because we have to. I am writing this shit because I have to. And you finished reading this because no one tells you to read this, really, not because you have to. Says who?

Err

2006-07-19T02:14:00.000-07:00

To err is human, to errs is humans.

Imagery

2006-07-18T01:47:00.000-07:00

They say one of the good/basic elements of poetry is imagery, painting the picture through your mind. This is my take on imagery, using imagery as the center of attention, oh really?, says the puttanesca kikay in my mind. This kikay is not really a character of my dissociative personality, ‘coz I don’t even have a personality. Puttanesca, shut up! I love puttanesca also known as “whore’s pasta” derived from the Italian word puttana, which means; yes you guessed it right, hoe. Hoe let the dogs out, hoe, hoe, hoe! Such a bitch.*

This is part of that compilation you are sick of hearing about. Ironically, it’s about people (not only women but generally women, I’m not being sexist here or statistician, so don’t ask for any statistics or sex or both) who can’t get enough of themselves. Vanity is their idol. It’s really hard to live in this vainglorious world. If we die, we might as well be beautiful, right? And let the worms do the action six feet under.

Glowing Red Radiance a.k.a. Nip/Tuck

The curly hair gone straight
Down to the exposed clavicle
As sun barely lit
The white powdery skin,
Lips burly and pouting
The face still glowing red of makeup

Isn’t she really sad?
Coping to the vain world
Putting padding in her brassiere
Wearing high thongs while
Enduring the pulp red itch
Isn’t she lovely?
Though very thin
From chewing paper and
Leaving the red meat

Her dark eyes turned blue
While the mascara smudges her lashes
While droplets moisten her contacts
Isn’t she happy?
She then cracked a smile
Watching models on TV
And held her aching stomach
As she spew out all that was in there
Bloody red.
Isn’t she wonderful?
She still smiled as she waits
Behind the white sheets or scrub suit
For her next injection

*One word leads to another, from dog to bitch. Bitch is a female dog, which colloquially became synonymous to cunt because of its behavior (during mating season) of fuck-locking with all the male dogs around. Try kicking them, they won’t even separate, talking about imagery.

Hiligaynon Ug Kinaray-a Kuno

2006-07-17T00:27:00.000-07:00

This is the most pretentious of the bunch that I have written. I just thought I would grab my teacher’s sympathy (“linta” style) by writing something close to the heart. It’s pathetic, clever, and brave. Pathetic, for I know you can never get wrong with your own language (grammar wise, etc.), clever since no one really thought of writing a poem in Hiligaynon/Karay-a in an English Class (talking ‘bout style), and brave for “How dare me write meself powem not in Enguleesh, am myself stupeeed?!!! " ‘Nuf said. I have been very hard to myself.

PASI

Nagahululog ang mga pinasi
Kang bugas sa kawayan nga salog
Sa gamay nga gisi tanang pula nga plastic
Ini nagakaharagkag kag dali-dali
Nga nagapanaog paisa-isa
Para mahakos ang ginapangalagkan nga duta.
Pag-abot sang inugpanhiyapon
Ang isa kagantang, binilog na lang
Kang naman-an kang iloy
Dasig nga ginkagkag ang mga gabok
Nga kawayan kag ginpamudyot
Ang mga buti sang bugas nga
Nagahamyang sa basa nga yuta
Samtang ginadaha sa gadaba-daba nga kalayo
Nagkari ang mga tanod ni waay pagpanuktok
Kag ginpandakop ang ana nga mga bata
Nga gatanga sa lamisa
Nabilin na lang nga nagatasngo ang nanay
Samtang nagapanimaho na ang dapog
Pilit nya ginapanumdum ang tana
Nga mga kabataan nga ginpasibandan
Sa pagkawat sang inugkaon
Nga batok nga tinig-ang.

Whatever!

Death/Love

2006-07-14T22:29:00.000-07:00

Death is a challenge. It tells us not to waste time. It tells us to tell each other right now that we love each other. --- Leo Buscaglia

I love you each other.

Slash vs. Axl

2006-07-13T23:27:00.000-07:00

The above title really has nothing to do with the following article, the hell I care with Guns N' Roses, I liked November Rain’s video though, very theatrical like Phantom of the Opera. And all the suing and legal battles are so Phantom of the Opera, why not they just slash each others throat, so we can live in peace. What am I talking about? We can never live in peace. Nor we will die in peace. It’s not going to happen. Anyhow, this is the second installment of the collection I made haphazardly in college. I bet you’re not really that interested. This article was in response to the song “American Idiot” by Green Day. I don’t know if my teacher got this one cause I don’t even get it myself. But, I like the style. I am a critic of my work and I more often than not abhor them. I love it like that. Always.

Slashes

What if I started talking with slashes/just like the lyrics of the song/And all my political and social sentiments will be plotted with music/I would be singing on the top of my lungs/It sounds cliché/But everybody will hear me/It will be because the voice was the catch/and the message was hypothetically real/And everyone will be in my herd/under my control/This is my own propaganda/

Then, my voice will be heard/not in a humdrum kind of way/I will be ‘godly’ but not popular than Jesus Christ/or else it will spell the end of me just like what the Beatles did/Everyone will listen to me/The society will pay attention/The government will also listen/The big-mouthed bastards will stop and ponder/that Nature will soon take its wrath/that what goes around comes around/Yes, another cliché/It’s a pattern/And all of us will remain helpless/

But this will not happen/Songs always fall on deaf ears/Just like the pirated CD/My voice will be stuck in their heads though/And I have done my purpose/This is my song/Please listen/

Come on!/Join the bandwagon.

…the song fades… and we stopped singing… no more slashes… just poignant dots in our minds... thank you for not listening… end.

Wuv

2006-07-11T23:00:00.000-07:00

I will be publishing the articles which garnered the Pulitzer Prize for Nonsense (Punked!). I made them two years ago for CL 101 (Comparative Literature). Most of them were made on the day of the deadline. I obviously work hard (if not best) under pressure. This was not included in the BS Bio prospectus but I just felt like enrolling in this class. I somewhat got a high grade in this subject so surely there was no regret in wasting my time.

This is the first installment of the said collection of prose, poems, trash, crap, dirt, shit, and other stylistic-simplistic-idiotic literary pieces. I don’t smell any confidence here. Anyway, it is a poem about lovemaking and the things your mouth can’t control saying if you’re under the influence of ecstasy (the feeling not the pills). This does not translate into something personally, promise. Enjoy! Or else.

Tolah Iruteka

U climbed over me
Tickling my erogenous zones
Brushing ur hair on my face
I lie still. Numb.
Like a song,
U filled up my senses
Distorting my vocabulary.
I shouted in ecstasy, in climax.
I wuv u.

U didn’t reply.

Tale of Two Grasses

2006-07-11T01:35:00.000-07:00

Roger Federer bowed just a set (overall) to its perennial finale contender, Rafael Nadal, before grabbing his fourth consecutive silver gilt cup (and cover to be exact) in his favorite Grand Slam court, the grasses of Wimbledon. While, Frenchwoman Amelie Mauresmo continued to prove her being WTA’s no. 1 by coming out of the last two sets and beat Justin (watchamacallit) Henin-Hardene in an exciting three-set game. This would at least make a little consolation to the loss of France over Italy in the World Cup.

Speaking of the more humongous field of grass (70 yards wide, 110 yards long to be exact), Italy won the World Cup title after beating France in an exciting shootout. They scored all five while the French conceded one goal on its second attempt because David Trezeguet hit the ball errantly on the crossbar, which landed slightly out of the thick 6-inch wide line. I guess they already have someone to blame (Zizou cannot be blamed or else there’ll be war). The game was watched by 1 billion people in the world. These people witnessed action on the last minutes of the game when Zinedine Zidane head-butted Marco Materazzi on the chest and was awarded a red card and made an inglorious exit of his last international game before retiring. At least, he got some redemption after been given the Golden Ball.

Italy will celebrate by even snorting more grass if this is allowed, of course.

Boredom Come

2006-07-08T02:18:00.000-07:00

Boredom Come

I have nothing to do. After a day’s work, I have nothing to do. I want to do something but I always end up doing nothing. Procrastination is my surname.

I cook canned sardines. After sautéing three gloves of garlic and a small onion bulb, I mixed it up with sardines soaked in previously beaten eggs. After a few minutes or so, my dinner is ready, good for two, but usually I eat it alone. If it only takes a few minutes to cook it, it would take me an hour to make fire. Apparently, I am cooking old-school style, no electric power, no LPG tanks, just charcoals and an old slice of rubber slippers. If not canned sardines, I am cooking chorizo, scrambled eggs, or Yakisoba noodles, I’m giving meaning to deep fry; it actually tastes good. It’s nice cooking and preparing and stuffs like that, but I still feel bored. And eventually boring anyone who reads this kind of shit.

To continue, I walk long miles to reach the plaza near the Cathedral just to buy two scoops of Cookies & Cream and Double Dutch or Very Rocky Road and Ube Macapuno or Vanilla and Coffee Crumble. It depends on what is available. Then I trudge back the aisles and pavements of Boredom Come. If I pass by a convenient store, I might get myself yesterday’s issue of Philippine Daily Inquirer, it costs cheaper, or buy Nova or Piattos Sour Cream & Onion or that costly Lay’s Sour Cream & Onion (I guess you already know my favorite, not the newspaper, idiot). I will eat them while watching a tennis match with Maria Sharapova, Roger Federer, or Rafael Nadal in it. Otherwise, I will attempt to write on my all-purpose blue notebook and end up drawing caricatures (inclining more on the pornographic side, oh shit, I’m screwed) of people in my mind. Then, everyone who still has the patience to read up to this point dies in boredom.

To those who still survived the grueling and treacherous test of how much can you not persist to keep on comprehending this kind of crap, I eventually dose off or contemplate before eventually dosing off. See, there is no more to read than yet another crap. And I will wake up late then do nothing before realizing that I am already late. I am essentially testing how much adrenaline will my adrenal gland pump if I have realized that I will be eventually missing, uhmmm, nothing if I became late, other than of course the cash deducted on my salary. This is kind of a lame excuse of my tardiness. I impugn (thanks to shift+F7) it back to my adrenal gland. I think everyone who has reached this stage of reading through the words of boredom is eventually dead or dying by now.

For the dying, this is my caveat (word for the day, pronounced as kavyat, for the meaning search the web or use that red pocket edition dictionary that you have that you can’t even put in your pocket because of its thickness), if you’re still interested you’ll eventually die. A friend told me that I sort of have this inkling towards the dead and called me morbid, I loved it, albeit I usually wear white, this is to prove that stereotypes on the relationship between death and the color black is so 20th century. Silver was the new black in the year 2000. Pink was the new black last year. I say white is the new black this century. You see I am making no point here but to lengthen this kind of trash. This Boredom Come I have made out of troubled youth memories and frustrations towards fantasy and afterlife (where I am going with this, this is too philosophical and it reminds me of my lame Philo I professor back in college, so lame that Shift+F7 a.k.a. English Thesaurus won’t suggest any words for it. Still senseless) sometimes gets people engrossed or worse flabbergasted or even worse finds it funny because of my face while retelling it. After I have written this, I will do nothing, may be cook, but generally will do nothing. This is such a waste of your time, I will now stop, I promise. I lied.

And if you’re still alive, marry me or comment at the end of the blog? I guess you’d rather comment.

Supernova-va-va-va

2006-07-06T02:24:00.000-07:00

I watched the premiere show of Rock Star: Supernova this morning. Oh boy, if not for the really talented auditioneers, I would not even bother to watch Tommy Lee yet again (in a more sober version) leading the group with the “cheesy” name. Obviously, the name was really made to sell. I don’t wanna see one of the contestants to go home tomorrow since it is hard to tell this early who amongst them has great talent and X factor. Some can really make better first impressions but others, with their passion and soul to the music, grabs you ‘somewhere else’ by just being themselves. Unlike INXS, who obviously has the fans, the new band will depend its popularity on the show’s success and how much people will love to see/hear Tommy Lee minus Pamela Anderson, Gilby Clarke and Jason Newsted’s again minus the fame of their former bands. Or they will fall on the crumbs of Velvet Revolver, another Frankenstein band.

Watch the new season and have the chance to vote. It’s worldwide. And why aren’t there any Asians?

+++++

Sparks of Wisdom (from text message):

You’re never too old to learn something stupid.
Smile, tomorrow will be worse.
Never miss a good chance to shut up.
If you hate yourself in the morning, sleep till noon.
Don’t run; you’ll just die tired.
Don’t steal, that’s the government’s job.
The number of people watching you is directly proportional to the stupidity of your action.
He, who laughs last, thinks the slowest.
Never take life seriously; nobody gets out alive anyway.
Always remember you’re unique. Just like everyone else is.

+++++

So, it is France vs. Italy to the finals. Germany was trampled earlier on the last few minutes of the second half, 2-0, and Portugal will make Zinedine Zidane (repeat it 70 times) voodoo dolls to prick and prick, even though they’re not Russians or witches or wizards, for making the penalty goal.

+++++

Maria Sharapova will face the uber-buffed (man-clone) Amelie Mauresmo tonight on StarSports Live for a second shot of winning another Wimbledon crown (or sterling silver salver, another tongue twister) to match her dangling earrings to move to the finals. Apparently, she sailed through by beating fellow Russian Elena Dementieva in a match fueled by the cartwheeling streaker. Elena actually beamed at the sight of the naked man and his, ummm, sneakers. Why did she smile, I wonder?

Roger Federer has never dropped a set yet again after beating Mario Ancic in their quarterfinals game. You can now clearly see that he will still reign supreme on the grass court. He just really loves grass. *Wink wink*

+++++

In regards to the Globe-Pacman incident, there was a supposed burning of Globe cell site in Bohol, which led to the communication mishap all over Visayas or so my fellow conspirators say. Apparently based on statistics, this is the 30+th time a Globe cell site has been bombed, burned, or sabotaged compared to nil, nada, love, nothing of Smart cell sites. Hmmmm, again, I wonder.

++++++

Today is mine. Tomorrow is none of my business. Translation: Let’s procrastinate. Bow.

What happened to Globe on the Day Pacman Won?

2006-07-03T23:20:00.000-07:00

I don’t know if this happened nationwide (certainly it happened in Visayas; Dumaguete, Cebu, Iloilo in particular), but I was totally pissed when Globe users got “disconnected” on the day Manny Pacquiao won. They should have earned some “peso” there since lots of users will definitely text each other to affirm the victory of the whole nation (sob sob). What happened there? I got interesting conspiracy theories to why this had occurred.

1. It was obvious that Pacman is a Smart endorser (see advertisements), and the Globe people decided why not boycott the news scattering by disconnecting their users.
2. In light of theory #1, since they are anti-Pacman, they bet on Larios to win. Obviously, they lost therefore as a form of sourgraping they punished their users. Not a nice move.
3. They went into upgrading their system on that day since people will be too busy watching the fight (till midnight through replays) and forget about texting. Not a bold move again. Not all people are boxing fans or into bandwagon.
4. Since it is Pacman day, they made an agreement with Smart to make it All-Smart Day in recognition of Pacman’s triumph. What-da-f*ck!!!
5. Globe people were busy strategizing on what to do after seeing the Smart logo on Pacman’s boxing shorts. They were plotting market options and plan B’s and while doing this they forgot to put its users back into “connection” mode.
6. They killed themselves after losing Pacman to Smart as their endorser for the reason that Pacman is either “makamasa, cheap, not classy” or his too expensive for them to buy. I think it is the former; they are not yet ready to cross into Jologs world and be proud to be one.
7. Globe is still an elite group of smartass kikays, I quote a friend, who still aren’t into non-English speaking Filipinos, even if they’re Manny Pacquiao. Damn you coños!

I have been a Globe user for six years now. This is the first time I have felt abuse

Upsets

2006-07-02T00:00:00.000-07:00

Brazil, England, Argentina out. The favorites bowed down before reaching semis and it is up to Germany, the host nation, to redeem the title if they indeed will reach finals again. I am a sucker for underdogs, so seeing France kick the World Cup defending champion was something. I'm still betting for the "underdogs" so France will go all the way.

+++

On the grasscourt, it's bye-bye for the defending champion Venus Williams on Women's Singles, Andy Roddick and Andre Agassi on Men's Singles, in his final Wimbledon appearance. I'm still betting for Roger Federer to still reign supreme in this department and Maria Sharapova to prove that she's not a one-trick pony in the grasscourt.

+++

And I'm sensing an upset locally, Manny Pacquiao faltering on his own grounds. Or not. Let's see later.

Hedonism

2006-06-30T03:02:00.000-07:00

Hedonism can be generally summed up as "pleasure is the highest good" or — in an ethical formulation — "whatever causes pleasure is right." (Wikipedia)

Hedonism (Just Because You Feel Good)
Skunk Anansie

I hope you're feeling happy now
I see you feel no pain at all it seems
I wonder what you're doin' now
I wonder if you think of me at all
do you still play the same moves now
or are those special moods
for someone else
I hope you're feeling happy now

just because you feel good
doesn't make you right
just because you feel good
still want you here tonight

does laughter still discover you
I see through all the smiles
that look so right
do you still have the same friends now
to smoke away your problems and your life
oh how do you remember
me the one that made
you laugh until you cried
I hope you’re feeling happy now

just because you feel good doesn't make you right
just because you feel good still want you here tonight
I wonder what you're doing now
I hope you're feeling happy now
I hope you're feeling happy now

--Check out this song’s music video through You Tube, it’s great, I promise.--

Blank: The Movie

2006-06-28T02:19:00.000-07:00

I quite don’t know why I can’t find any movies from the 80’s and below in my memory. Maybe because most of them are no longer available, or may be I am so preoccupied of thinking I’m a 90’s and beyond kid and don’t really much care about the decades before it. I thought ‘Prettier than Pink’ was a good teen flick, and the first Star Wars trilogy as the better of the two trilogies, and ‘The Graduate’ as engaging as any other “controversial” films there is, and I am yet to see Apocalypse Now Redux.

So, I thought this is my top list of best movies of all time. There are so many movies I really like, but guess what, I forgot their titles; I only remember what happened in there. The following movies definitely stuck in my mind and made my cerebrum their hiding place.

1. American Beauty (1999) Sam Mendes
2. Chungking Express (1994) Wong Kar Wai
3. Y Tu Mama Tambien (2001) Alfonso Cuaron
4. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004) Michel Gondry
5. Elephant (2003) Gus Van Sant
6. Magnolia (1999) Paul Thomas Anderson
7. Hero (2002) Zhang Yimou
8. Memento (2000) Christopher Nolan
9. Finding Nemo (2003) Andrew Stanton/Lee Unkrich
10. Conspiracy Theory (1997) Richard Donner
11. Schindler’s List (1993) Steven Spielberg
12. Amorres Perros (2000) Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu
13. L.A. Confidential (1997) Curtis Hanson
14. Zatoichi (2003) Takeshi Kitano
15. Happy Endings (2005) Don Roos
16. Lord of the Rings Trilogy (2001-2003) Peter Jackson
17. Thesis (1996) Alejandro Amenabar
18. Zoolander (2001) Ben Stiller
19. Oro, Plata, Mata (1982) Peque Gallaga
20. Tinimbang Ka Ngunit Kulang (1974) Lino Brocka
21. Kill Bill Vol. 1 & 2 (2003-2004) Quentin Tarantino
22. Boogie Nights (1997) Paul Thomas Anderson
23. In the Mood for Love (2000) Wong Kar Wai
24. Behind the Sun (2001) Walter Salles
25. Cinema Paradiso (1989) Giuseppe Tornatore
26. Spiderman 1 & 2 (2002 & 2004) Sam Raimi
27. The Godfather (1972) Francis Ford Coppola
28. Pleasantville (1998) Gary Ross
29. Others (In this Century and beyond) I will soon remember and add it here.

---FIN---

A-Musicale

2006-06-26T00:57:00.000-07:00

I watched the Asian premiere of the "High School Musical" last night in the Disney's Channel. I know, I am not supposed to watch Disney shows, what am I? Grade 5. Well, I watch Disney shows, animated movies, superhero flicks, and broadway musicals (Andrew Lloyd Webber, etc.) , so why not watch this one. It's quite surprising though to see somewhat a "happy" version of teenagers, minus the angst, the rebellion, the weeds, the drugs, the booze, the libido, the crises. They're just so happy singing to the point of cheesiness. Nice cheezy though. 'Coz I think the actors are good, some can really sing, some are just relentlessly talented. I was amused. I like these kids; I also lik e those who keep it real, those with disorders. They're less boring. And fun to watch. Two words. Cheesy nice.

Sometimes, I wished I could take part in a musical, go West End or Broadway. But then again, not all people are aliens or vice versa.

+++++++

I just finished watching "Wedding Crashers." One word. Moooorrrreeee......

Weddings Windings

2006-06-21T01:47:00.000-07:00

A friend just wed to a man twice her height and twice as blond. She married a European. And I was there to witness it. Yet another June bride.

This was officially the first wedding I have ever attended. I am not quite sure if I have attended receptions before but if indeed they are, I have no idea about it. So, again, officially this is my first attendance on a wedding. I was a groomsman. I wore barong tagalog. And I never really looked nice in it.

This was not a Catholic wedding, but anyway, I have nothing to differentiate it with. What's nice about this is that the place where they were wed is the same place where we ate. So there's no running, walking, sprinting towards the buffet table. No one died during the course of slicing, rumbling, forking of food on the table, other than of course the pigs, chickens, cows, who spared their lives to make this celebration a possibility. Glory to these animals, to their sons and daughters, to their mothers and fathers, who in one way or another will make their way to yet another smorgasbord who I wished I will be a part of. I am such a pig. Nothing against pigs, though.

The couple will soon leave this country and will settle in Ireland, a greener pasteur, where cows will be milked and milked, until they have yet become a part of everyone's dining table. I am happy for them for they will definitely be nourished in an area where I know chances of success are higher. They will be living in a richer dominion, a new haven of hope, a barnyard of fat cattles. They will be leaving this wretched country and will look back to this as an instrument why they are now together. I wished I can do likewise, not necessarily marrying an alien, but leaving this country and look back to it as the reason why I pursue things I don't even like pursuing. There is still hope.

I inverted the hourglass. The sand of time dropping in a tiny waist hole. Soon, I will turn it over again, hoping that this time it's a whole different new hourglass. Shrinking in coldness of the winter season, sparkling in silver dusts taken from the coastal fjords, adorned in foreign taste. Dreams are all I have. Just like everybody else.

Jesslyn & Mark, congratulations!

French Open Closed Already, Nadal Maintains Clay Power, Roger Eyes Grass (No snorting required)

2006-06-13T00:24:00.000-07:00

As predicted, Nadal is unbeatable on clay court. I was looking forward for Federer to end the winning streaks of the Spanish star, but the Swiss seems to stumble here and there, and can’t seem to manage the swashbuckling topspins made by the clay giant. I was watching in excitement on the fourth round, seeing despair in the shouts of Federer fans (Roooojeer), when suddenly Roger made amazing points and tied the game on 6-6 until of course Nadal finished with strong serves making Federer moved back and forth the baseline, and ultimately gave him a fastball he can’t reach. But, Federer fans don’t despair; the grass court will be the arena of Federer to make vengeance. And as history tells, they clay giants will be swept out of the grass on the first rounds. Hopefully, #2 Nadal will prove us wrong.

Buoys and Girls

2006-06-10T00:13:00.000-07:00

There is quite an association with buoys (it is not wrongly spelled) and girls. Women with huge bosoms are said to float more. And Sir Isaac Newton threw apples to the sexist who made that statement. Well, women with huge bosoms have more weight on her that could eventually be pulled by gravity. Yes, they have no floaters. There is no air unless of course, they’re brainless airheads. And that’s a different story. Ergo, the question, “so you float when you swim?,” could only be safely asked to an airhead with big boobs or just plain airhead.

‘Then to the Aeolian isle we came, where dwelt Aeolus, son of Hippotas, dear to the immortal gods, in a floating island, and all around it is a wall of unbreakable bronze, and the cliff runs up sheer. Twelve children of his, too, there are in the halls, six daughters and six sturdy sons, and he gave his daughters to his sons to wife.’---The Odyssey, Homer

Punch Me, I Bleed!

2006-06-08T23:14:00.000-07:00

"Punch me, I bleed!," says Peter Parker to MJ while trying to convince her that he indeed is different. Nothing against MJ, he will not have a scratch if she will try to punch him after a grueling play, unless of course she wears metal gloves and punch him on his softest part, (not the balls, it will not bleed) his nose. It never fails.

Time moves forward and every second changes eveything, so definitely now is different from yesterday and tomorrow. But why are we not changing? Or we haven't noticed that yet. Everyone wishes for us to change, but is change necessary? (Warning: Cliche ahead). The only constant thing in this world is change. And did we become different after these changes? (Warning: Rhetoric ahead). Are these changes necessary? Are we obliged to adapt to these changes? Do we have to change our underwears everyday? Ummm.

I chat with a friend two days ago. She is one of those I have talked with about my personal life. I never really talked about them, not that it is not interesting. I just thought that I don't like to be pitied. But that is out of the topic. We talked a lot about our past days, our friends, the things we akwardly do, the funny instances we never thought had happened, the doubts, the questions, the rumors, the past love, friends gradually changing, friends abruptly changing, friends surprisingly different, friends unsurprisingly different, and life as we know it. She is now happily married in the coast of California. And I'm happy we have talked cause right after that I felt different. I suddenly missed my past and made a lots of could haves, would haves and should haves. I was different, I never thought I will miss anyone. Yes, I am human. I always thought I was alien. ET phone home.

Punch me, I bleed! I always does. I'm such a loser.

Run, Bleeeep, Run Sequel

2006-06-05T21:50:00.000-07:00

Weekend spells movie marathon. And fortunately, my eyes didn't swell, but my facial hair has gone King Kong. I had never shaven for a week, and it didn't bother me if I look like a fur ball, but I thought it was sexy; sexy lazy to take an hour off the screen to grab the razor and bleed my face to death.

Anyway, first on the list is Spanish Fly. The only thing nice about this film, since it has gone too crazy giving a clue what it is all about, is the kissing, petting, making love while sliding down the stairs. And other people walking past them didn't seem to mind. Go on sex-starved lovers. Welcome to Spain, not the Philippines, but conqueror of the Philippines. Next is another Spanish film, Novo, which means "new". It stars the Paz Vega, the beautiful Paz Vega, the face that launched a thousand erections (did I write that word? Oh no. Censors. Bad word) and Eduardo Noriega of Abre Los Ojos (the film that launched Penelope Cruz to international stardom). This film is a little pornographic, lots of pubes hanging around, but hey if you like films about memory, memory loss, memory found, this is a nice thesis (wink wink). The only disturbing thing about it is again the ending, wherein the protagonist's child found him sleeping naked on the beach, and he suddenly remembers everything. The line that struck as disturbing was when the son said to the father, "have you ever slept with boys before?" and they slept (not make love, pervert), still the father not minding the coldness of the beach. Grab some shirt dad. Creepy dad. Die, dad, die.

After a while of adult-rated films, I suddenly felt watching Sky High. Yes, the superhero film. I wished they could have gone further. But, well, it was OK. Hum hum. Everything is Illuminated followed, the debut feature film of actor Liev Schreiber. It stars Elijah Wood, a Jew looking for the girl in the photo with his grandfather who helped him escape from the Germans in Ukraine 1942. He is a collector of mementos of his loved ones. The rigid search was not only vital to him but also to his guide who eventually succumbed to his past. Special mention is the great acting of the dog, the blind-guiding bitch of the old man who thinks he is blind. The bitch is deranged and I loved it.

I always wanted to watch the last film of the great Stanley Kubrick (A Clockwork Orange) starring the late-couple Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman, in a breast-butt exposing role. Again, lots of pubes hanging. Eyes Wide Shut. My eyes wide but not shut. Get it?

Sigh. Undiscovered. Sigh. See Ashley Simpson sing. See Ashley Simpson act. See Ashley Simpson. The airport-running/fleeing/catching scene on the end is a reminiscent of past teen flicks and they thought it was still a good formula. Damn they were wrong. Of course, there is always the happy ending. Sigh. I discovered. Sigh.

Lastly, the Chumscrubber. Another dysfunctional teen story in teen suburbia. Lots of dysfunctional characters. Of note, the great acting of Glenn Close with the ubiquitous line, “in no reason whatsoever I blame you for the death of my son.” Well, just like any dysfunctional movies, it ends dysfunctionally (if there is such a word). I generally think the teen actors did great, I can only name one though, Jamie Bell of Billy Elliot. Okay, there is also Camilla Belle of When Stranger Calls, Justin Chatwin of War of the Worlds, Rory Culkin (related to Macaulay), and Lou Taylor Pucci of Thumbsucker. Others are just too popular to be included, I mean the veterans.

Seven down, seven days to go before another heating of my DVD player. Damn, this player is cheap. Yeah, it is.

P.S. I also watched Transamerica but not finished it due to player breakdown, where Felicity Huffman got an Oscar nod for acting as a male-turning-female transsexual (or was that redundant) fathering a long lost son. Again, there was this disturbing part where the son, not knowing that “she” was his father, kissed her and bared himself in front of her. Then the father suddenly revealed himself, what a wrong timing. He could have puked. But, still good acting from Huffman.

With all these disturbing father-son scenes (also refer to Novo), I can’t help but say that Father’s Day is coming to town. Advanced Happy Father’s Day.

Playoffs, French Open, World Cup.

2006-05-30T19:40:00.000-07:00

I guess this is one of the important seasons in sports, second to the ubiquitous Summer, Winter and other olympics. First, we are counting down the days till the World Cup in Germany. And as a sucker for underdogs, I am rooting for Iraq. Then, there's the NBA playoffs. So far Shaq and his gang are quite comfortable with a 3-1 lead over Pistons. In the field of tennis, it's French Open, with Nadal beating Federer as always in the clay court, and in one month's time, it's grasscourt at Wimbledon. Hoping that the blonde star Sharapova will restore the title out of the Williams.

I missed playing tennis. I hope I still know how.

Run, bleeep, Run

2006-05-30T19:18:00.000-07:00

What happens if you watch too much movies? Your eyes drop and your migraine attacks.

I watched 7 movies in a row (almost). It started with Dot the I with Gael Garcia Bernal (Motorcycle Diaries, Y tu Mama Tambien), then by another movie I forgot the name because I thought it was good. I slept then continued the next day with Happy Endings, which clearly became one of my favorite movies of all time. It's a comedy (or that what movie tells it was), and it's crazy. It stars Maggie Gyllenhaal, Lisa Kudrow, Steve Coogan, Jason Ritter, Laura Dern, etc, etc, etc. This movie gets into your thinking. Then, Storytelling. It started with Fiction starring Selma Blair, and Nonfiction with Paul Giammati. Next is the flying daggers, crouching tiger, samurai-ninja-warrior The Promise. I can't just have a concrete description of this film but colorful. Still does not top the colors of Hero. The next day, it was wine time with Sideways. Followed lastly by skateboarding history, Lords of Dogtown. The names stilll reverberate: Jay Adams, Tony Alva, Stacy Peralta, the originals of skateboarding, with Tony Hawk on cameo as an astronaut who ironically stumbles as he tries on the skateboard.

What I got from all of these, an imagination that soon will make me one of those behind the camera, and of course, migraine headaches.

I will Please

2006-05-28T00:03:00.000-07:00

Placebo in Latin, I will please. Thus, the effect, to please. An imaginary cure consoling the deepest aches. I need placebo. Not the direct cure, but just the cure: the water in my capsule, the sugar in my pill.

Ignorance is bliss.

Splitting Personality

2006-05-24T18:32:00.000-07:00

When you go through the requirements of most of the jobs today, there is this one qualification that definitely gets me pissed: pleasing personality (read: beautiful or near-beautiful). I understand those kind of works that requires such, e.g. the stewardesses, the hotel receptionist, the leading ladies, etc. But for some reasons, why do research assistants need to be pleasing. Why, oh, why? If you'll be stuck for hours or even days inside the laboratory, why is it such a requirement to be beautiful? Damn.

Let's take a scenario. You are titrating (a.k.a. waiting for soooo long) some chemicals whatsoever inside the fully white-tiled laboratory room, alone. What will happen if your pleasing? a) the chemicals will squirt out of graduated cylinders and climb up your face like ants can't get enough of sweets. b) titration time will be lessened in seconds coz, well, look at that pretty face. c) your results will be as beautiful as you are. d) you will die beautiful of boredom.

I guess everyone wants to die beautiful (in ashes).

Colored

2006-05-23T02:22:00.000-07:00

This poem has been circulating in text messages for quite a while. It is supposed to be written by an African kid and nominated for Best Poem of 2005 by supposedly a literary award-giving body. What fascinates me the most with this poem is its satiric take on racism, funny yet poignant. The use of words, the so called poetic justice, makes it innocently provocative, a little bit naive, and generally simple. No more underlying meanings or social innuendos, just a social commentary on the world at large. This is the kid writing, so definitely, he/she kicks ass.

When I born,
I black.
When I grow up,
I black.
When I go in the sun,
I black.
When I cold,
I black.
When I scared,
I black.
When I sick,
I black.
And when I die,
I still black.

And you white fella,
When you born,
You pink.
When you grow up,
You white.
When you go in the sun,
You red.
When you cold,
You blue.
When you scared,
You yellow.
When you die,
You grey.
And YOU calling me COLORED?!!!!

Huh. Take that.

Tingles

2006-05-20T02:35:00.000-07:00

My right index finger hurts; it tingles. So is my left index finger. And my left thumb. Yeah, the right thumb also. Well, both my hands are hurting. Pass me the TENS unit.

What will happen if I started to lose these precious hands (not really in the form of amputation or something, don't be so morbid)? What will I use when I eat? What? What? That's hard to contemplate. Enough with this finger.

This was somewhat an important week in reality TV: finales of both Amazing Race and Survivor, and we get to see who will bang heads in American Idol finale minus Chris Daughtry of course. He deserve to win but he is better off eliminated early than become commercialized or something. He has to rock, and winning the competition is not the proper ticket. So, who am I rooting for? I'd like a man to win, so Taylor Hicks and his spastic antics may well become the next American Idol. But Katherine McPhee is beautiful... let's end it there. Back to TAR, the hippies won in one exciting final showdown in the Roadblock (in a flag searching-total recalling challenge) against the toughest contender ever, the Frat Boys, who clarified they are college drop outs so naming them the Frat Boys does not make sense. I say at least you have a name, you're pooooopular. Onto Survivor, Aras (tongue-twister surname) won the whole exile brouhaha and may have become the youngest winner next to Amber. Or not. I am not really sure. Other than that, this week has been very painful for my hands.

And this is the lamest blog I have ever done. Others are just lamer.

How 'Bout Now? Or Now.

2006-05-11T19:21:00.000-07:00

Patience. It's hard to keep, hard to have. Wish we could have it now, as in right now. They say it's within you already, you just have to develop it or show it or buy it if you have money. Well, we would like to settle for the latter but we don't have money, and sometimes it's patience that gives us the solution on this money problem, then we can buy it again. Thus, the cycle of patience. But.

But. But what if you have been patient to the paint of martyrdom, what will you do? Be patient and wait until the medals of glory will fall down from heaven much like toads falling from the skies in Magnolia? or leave for you have enough and start being patient again on other people. If this continues, thus, again, the cycle of patience in a different light, a light of condescension.

Now, where to? Patience is not a virtue after all, but a means to live. Be patient until the surgeon is in. Be patient for your death will soon come. Be patient cause not all things have solutions. Be patient, you are in the hospital.

Thumbsucker. Another, well, haiku(s). And the Humanity, oh the Humanity.

2006-05-10T00:06:00.000-07:00

I watched Thumbsucker last night (starring Lou Pucci, Keannu Reeves (in his befitting role with no facial expressions, very Keannu Reeves: Neo, you are the One!), Vince Vaughn, Tilda Swinton a.k.a. the Narnia white witch), and we'll it has been a long time since I have watched a "slow" movie if not indie. It's refresing; I have been looking forward to watch these kinds of movies. For the synopsis, refer to Yahoo! Movies or rottentomatoes.com. Looking forward to watch another Lou Pucci film with the same darkness, with Billy Elliot's Jamie Bell, The Chumscrubbers. And by the way, both Pucci and Bell starred in music videos of Green Day: Jesus of Suburbia and Wake Me Up When September Ends, respectively.

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

I love Japanese, (5)

so I'd like to have sakè, (7)

Origami-style. (5)

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It's nice to listen to the 90's alternative rock, minus the boybands. The rise and death of Nirvana. Smashing Pumpkins on Tonight, Tonight. Green Day in its Grammy moment. R.E.M. making requiems. U2, Bono, U2, Edge. Radiohead screaming in your head. Collective Soul. Gin Blossoms. Red Hot Chili Peppers. The 12 M's and Crash Test Dummies. 10,000 Maniacs and more. Eddie Vedder "pointing gun" in Pearl Jam. Dave Matthews Band not drinking water and the sax sonata. Sarah Machlachlan's soulful voice. Fiona Apple and her lengthy album name per Guinness Book of World Records. Bjork, shhh.., Bjork. Skunk Anansie and the scream. The nudist's point of view of Alanis Morissette. Fat Boy Slim. The Offsprings and its spawns. The Prodigy's Firestarter and creepy hairstyle. Our Lady Peace's Superman is Dead. Oasis climaxing into the mirage of Champagne Supernova. The three young kids making big as Silverchair. Eraserheads, now erased, but still lingers. And the ones that skipped out of my memory, may not be easily remembered in my cortex, but will stay forever in my amygdala (the emotion center). You make me cry (not really literally, ok, sometimes... they're heartbreaking y'know), even if you're screaming. The sounds never fade if they're already kept (in the iPod).

We are all black when the lights turn out. (Twisted Transistor, guest line, Korn)

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

My ikebana. (5)

Fastened to your kimono. (7)

Burnt with parasol. (5)

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

I'm currently reading this book about a girl who was raped and killed and still looking out to the loved ones she left behind, from heaven's perspective, The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold. This the first "dramatic" (sniff, sniff) novel I have ever read, since Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom, and Paulo Coelho is inspirational not "dramatic". You can see how families are bound and/or shattered by someone's unexpected and early departure. You can see the heaven in different lights, with swings and gazebos, with playgrounds and duplexes, with visiting grandpas dancing. Oh the humanity. We only live once, but are we living still somewhere if we die? It's for us to find out while we are building our mysteries.

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

Sushi, sashimi. (5)

Raw meat for the Japanese. (7)

Like Japayukis. (5)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oh, the humaniy. The humanity. *sniff sniff*

Everyboday Hurts (Hope some higher authority will get that)

2006-05-09T23:07:00.000-07:00

When the day is long and the night, the night is yours alone,
When you're sure you've had enough of this life, well hang on
Don't let yourself go, 'cause everybody cries and everybody hurts sometimes

Sometimes everything is wrong. Now it's time to sing along
When your day is night alone, (hold on, hold on)
If you feel like letting go, (hold on)
When you think you've had too much of this life, well hang on

'Cause everybody hurts. Take comfort in your friends
Everybody hurts. Don't throw your hand. Oh, no. Don't throw your hand
If you feel like you're alone, no, no, no, you are not alone

If you're on your own in this life, the days and nights are long,
When you think you've had too much of this life to hang on

Well, everybody hurts sometimes,
Everybody cries. And everybody hurts sometimes
And everybody hurts sometimes. So, hold on, hold on
Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on
Everybody hurts. You are not alone.

~~Everyboday Hurts/R.E.M.

The World's a Subway

2006-05-07T01:00:00.000-07:00

Soiled, abused by world.

I learned patience, wisdom, grace.

Revenge will f'llow its tail.

Do you worry that you're not liked/How long till you break/You're happy cause you smile/But how much can you fake/An ordinary boy an ordinary name/But ordinary's just not good enough today/Alone I'm thinking/Why is superman dead?

Well/I know what I've been told,/You got to work to feed the soul/But I can't do this all on my own/No, I know, I'm no Superman.

Life is unfair, so I just stare at the stain on the wall where/The TV'd been, but ever since we've moved in it's been empty/Why I, why I'm in this room/There is no point explaining/You're not the boss of me now, and you're not so big/Life is a test, and I confess/I like this mess I've made so far.

It's the terror of knowing/What this world is about/Watching some good friends/Screaming get me out!/Tomorrow takes me higher/Pressure on people/Insanity laughs under pressure we're cracking/Can't we give ourselves one more chance?/Why can't we give love that one more chance?/Why can't we give love give love give love?/Cause love's such an old fashioned word/And love dares you to care/For the people on the edge of the night/And love dares you to change our way/Of caring about ourselves/This is our last dance/This is ourselves/Under Pressure.

I've been biding my time/Been so subtly kind/I got to think so selfishly/You're bored and bemused/You wanna do someone else/So you should be by yourself/Trying hard to think pure/Bloody hard when I'm raw/You talking out so sexually/'bout boys 'n girls and your friggin' dreams/So now you feel lusty/You're hot and confused/So now you've been busted/You're caught feeling used.

Today is the greatest/Day I ’ve ever kown/Can’t live for tomorrow/Tomorrow’s much too long/I burn my eyes out/Before I get out/I wanted more/Than life could ever grant/Bored by the chore/Of saving face/Pink ribbon scars/That never forget/I’ve tried so hard/To cleanse these regrets/My angel wings/Were bruised and restrained/My belly stings.

Two jumps in a week/I bet you think that's pretty clever don't you boy?/Flying on your motorcycle,/ Watching all the ground beneath you drop/You'd kill yourself for recognition,/Kill yourself to never ever stopYou broke another mirror,/You're turning into something you are not/Don't leave me high, don't leave me dryDon't leave me high, don't leave me dry/Drying up in conversation,/You will be the one who cannot talkAll your insides fall to pieces,/You just sit there wishing you could still make love/They're the ones who'll hate you./When you think you've got the world all sussed out/They're the ones who'll spit at you,/You will be the one screaming out/It's the best thing that you ever had,/The best thing that you ever, ever hadIt's the best thing that you ever had,/The best thing you ever had has gone away.

This is a public service announcement, this is only a test/Emergency evacuation protest/May Impair your ability to operate machinery/Can't quite tell just what it means to me/Keep out of reach of children, don't you talk to strangers/Get your philosophy from a bumper sticker/ I want to be the minority/I don't need your authority/Down with the moral majority/'Cause I want to be the minority/I pledge allegiance to the underworld/One nation under dog/There of which I stand alone/A face in the crowd/Unsung, against the mold/Without a doubt/Singled out.

The only way I know I don’t mind stealing bread/From the mouths of decadence/But I can’t feed on the powerless/When my cup’s already overfilled/But it’s on the table/The fire is cooking/And they’re farming babies/While the slaves are working/The blood is on the table/And their mouths are choking/But I’m growing hungry.

Nobody said it was easy / It’s such a shame for us to part /Nobody said it was easy/No one ever said it would be so hard /I’m goin’ back to the start.

But I can't help the feeling /I could blow through the ceiling/If I just turn and run/And it wears me out, it wears me out/ And if I could be who you wanted/If I could be who you wanted /All the time, all the time.

The world is a subway!

It's hard to argue how unfair things are, you have no related literature to back this up. When the higher people from you office, from your homes, from society puts you down, the only course of action to take is not bow down, but stand up. And sing... in glory, the power of humanity... your dignity is your only ammunition, your identity. Sing it until your throat breaks in half.

(Song excerpts from Our Lady Peace/Superman is Dead, Lazlo Bane/I'm no Superman, They Might Be Giants/Boss of Me, Queen & David Bowie/Under Pressure, Skunk Anansie/Secretly, Smashing Pumpkins/Today, Radiohead/High and Dry/Fake Plastic Trees, Green Day/Warning/Minority, Temple of the Dog/Hunger Strike, Coldplay/The Scientist, the haiku is original.)

Major Headache

2006-05-03T02:34:00.000-07:00

After hitting my head pretty hard on the rim of a double-deck bed, I experienced extreme, excruciating pain which made me think that I may have created a hematoma, or blood clot in my brain, if not fracture of my skull. This morbidity seemed to blow a little out of proportion when I experienced slight rise in temperature a.k.a. fever, my first in quite a long time (years even), afterwards. What's worse than that is that I have been experiencing a series of not-really debilitating cephalgia, yeah headache, for four consecutive days now. As of writing, I am still feeling the beeping (tiktak tiktak migraine talking) in my head. This is one major crap. So, I thought why not wrote a poem, just like what my friend always posts on her blog. I am quite inspired by her new fantaserye-esque photos that she newly posted (this has nothing to do with the poems). I think I can only do elementary haiku. It's hard to think and put meanings to poems at this time, which for some may have an underlying meaning, a force hiding, a dwelling metaphor about to break from the oppression of social world, whatsoever... but really that just it, nothing great, nothing serious, nothing grave... just a flag of Japan (a red circle in a rectangular white piece) or a flag of Libya (greeeeen in its most green, grinning bobcat). This is my attempt. I great leap for mankind. A plagiarized literary piece from, um, myself while trying to be pretentious as to think I can be a poet, who can easily make poems without being drunk, i.e. Edgar Allan Poe, who can strike my pen or keyboard without having the right surrounding, environment, mood, etc. It is just that I remembered this very clearly, I wrote this 3 years ago, and it is still etched in my cortex, I hope amygdala (the emotion center, but really there's nothing emotional with this). Read on, folks. You'll never know it might inspire you. To write. To read. To dance. To sing. To kill the author of this as soon as you meet him somewhere in the middle of the earth. To laugh for no apparent reasons.

Headache.

Hy'nas laughing hard

On vultures squandering and

Eating their own kin.

To paraphrase, just like my headache, this is how morbid life is. And... I don't know, I can never really explain this one. We are not in a Humanities class. It's self-explanatory. Or not. Vultures, hyenas, they play a role in the food chain, in the environment. Just like my headache, nobody gives a damn about it. Until somebody died of a tumor out of a supposed "headache" and eventually fullfilling its role in the food chain as food for the bacteria. Mmmmm. This never really made sense. Metered poem. 17 lines. Fatal headache. And we all fall to pieces. The third law of Thermodynamics. Entropy. This is a different subject. And it is not me writing. It is the inner genius. Shut up. Shut up.

Fornication Under Consent of the King YOU

2006-04-17T19:23:00.000-07:00

F*ck in short. The F-word, the middle finger assuming power, the bomb that will put mothers in asylum, the bleep on your screen, the language of breakdown, the means of communication of parents trying to settle things down, the contents of an Eminem CD, oh (expleted deleted) shit you know that word!

This is supposed to be the etymology of the word. It came from the Medieval times (Middle Ages, a long time ago, or once upon a time will do) where having sexual intercourse is prohibited if you are not the King, or of the royal blood, or married. This is the sign posted on doors of those will do the deed after given consent by the king. It's like applying for VISA, only maybe not that long. I'm sure the king have stacks of these letters on his table, or may be scrolls on carton boxes, or stone tablets on caves... I never know, I aint a historian. If this is the origin of the word, it is kinda little religious since really fornication (subtly called premarital sex or adulterous deed) is against the Bible, this has a divine background to it, then why put an asterisk... or translate it to icons seldom used, i.e. @#%$&^!@? Why, why, oh bleeeeeeeeeppp shit, why?

To understand the whole dilemma over this chicken and dinosaur egg, we will consult the net to know when this started as a "bad" or "slang" word. No, we will not get into that. It is such a waste of time. Maybe it started when a gangster slash goon slash streetpunk slash homeless made a new meaning (image/reputation) to that word. And that will make him a scholar for knowing such word. That's why I have respect to these people. But, f*ck %*&!@# bleeeep (expleted deleted) don't you ever to try to snatch something from me again. It's not worth it. You can try somebody else, though. I know someone who knows someone who knows someone who knows someone who knows how to rob the rich and (sadly *sniff sniff*) the poor. The power of sixth degree affiliation to (no, not Kevin Bacon) the president. Anyone will do; they are all of the same color anyway. Except for, f*ck, I can't think of anything.

Google Jusdin

2006-04-15T19:32:00.000-07:00

Everybody seems to ask where the hell I came from, they have never heard of a family name such as "Jusdin". Me neither. So I did a research. No, not that genealogical, family tree, trace your blood brouhaha. I googled my surname. And guess what links came out, and did Google give me an interesting information. It;s for me to find out... Tik tak tik tak...
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After split seconds (this internet connection is fast, it's not even broadband), it led me to (drum rolls please...) myself, my blog, my comments on somebody's blog, my name on a list of exam passers, my sister, my sister's name on a list of exam passers, and a wrongly spelled name for Justin, and eventually the title of this blog. So I came from myself. Duh! It helped.
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Since this was a lazy kind of research, may be it's time to ask the person who inherit the Spanish?, Portuguese?, Scottish?, English?, nomadic name: mi Father... when he is drunk. I got an interesting piece of information, he is adopted. And he wants me to find out who are his forefathers. There is no hope. So literally, my surname has no history. My father is the only (adopted) son, and his adopted parents are deceased. And whom to ask next? Google. After 20 years. Google or the internet is not that old yet. May be in time someone from our genes or surname (coz really I am not a pure Jusdin, who cares) will pop out and reveal that I am an heir to somebody's throne. Hopefully, it's the Microsoft empire, imagine just being Bill Gates' step-something.
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Bill Gates, for the nth time, I am your son!

AI: Artificial Idol or American Intellegence

2006-04-14T00:24:00.000-07:00

This is the first time I will be writing about the AI (see title) because of Queen. Last episode they sang songs from the legendary rock band Queen. Some rocked, some flopped. In general, God, Queen saved them. The familiar words we hear from the judges were pitchy, peachy, bitchy (they're interchangeable), karaoke, song choice, and indulgent. For Simon to say indulgent is just being indulgent. Leave Chris alone. He just wants to be in his comfort zone, raw, and original. If you don't want him to be indulgent, why not have a theme, "songs from the first animated feature film Snow White." It'll be hard since the kids will cry if he will make them rock, or it would be a great surprise if he did. And you're indulgent if you want him to do what you like. You're not generally America, you're British.

Bucky went home in a song I thought he nailed well. Ace should have been gone, he's the worst that night. But, Bucky should be gone earlier, for the diva souls of Mandisa and Lisa. I thought Kellie was still the naive girl she wants to project, and the Bohemian Rhapsody version of hers gives light to the meaning of Bride of Chucky in a cool jacket. I still like the girl though, the snot hanky thing was childish, funny, and Ryan is too gay to not touch it. That's just my opinion.

+++++++++++

As for the judges' comments, honestly, it's Simon's comment only matters with the contestants, you can see the anticipation in their eyes to get through Simon's comments and they hoped it's good coz sometimes it spells another week for them. They don't really care about Paula as much as they want to comprehend she just said; I changed channels when she started talking. It's nonsense or a copied comment from Randy. I hate the 'pitchy' word Randy used all the time, can he think of synonyms for it. Coz sometimes it's too vague. For example, he says, "You were (pitchy, peachy, bitchy) in the start/middle... and nailed it to the end" He says that to almost all contestants that it can either mean pitchy (sharp), peachy (too big for you voice), bitchy (you lack personality)... and I am pulling a Paula Abdul... I'm talking nonsense, I am not even drunk. That's just my opinion. Yeah, my opinion.

So what does AI mean? Again I-don't-know. Stop, Paula, stop!

We're Psychos 2

2006-04-13T23:47:00.000-07:00

I worked so many parttime jobs in college, even worked two jobs at the same time while doing my thesis and flunking some of my exams. Fortunately, I still get to pass them for i really magically, mysteriously aced some of them. I started working as an internet "supervisor" working 25 hours per month, if you worked more than that you're wasting your time. Then, i worked for the first time as a summer job employee of the city hall in the Stocks department. That is not "stocks" as in those numbers running with arrows on BBC. I literally worked in a stock room, less than 6 feet high; it requires for you to sit for a long time or you'll get stiff neck. I am not that tall but brushing your hair on the ceiling sounds like cleaning the cobwebs out. And i never wondered anymore why sands are all over my scalp.

Then, I worked back as an internet supervisor for another semester, they just liked me. On my last semester in college, I worked three jobs (not at the same time): as a research assistant twice, and a student assistant in our dormitory. It's almost playing supervisor amongst the power-hungry students. But actually, I just answer phone calls and visitors or just sit in the library cutting old newspapers for some valuable clips. And the valuables for me are quite those not too valuable for my boss. As for my being a research assistant, I count crab larvae every day for 1 month, change buckets and drums of water everyday for 1 month, feed the as small as a "headlice" larva with still smaller larvae of algae and shrimp. That must have been the turning point of my life, I started talking to my specimen. We are psychos or serial killers, I prefer the former, it's a choice, and I don't have to keep my hands dirty.

These jobs needless to say made me ready to what the real world really is. I thought I could tackle just any job a la Malcolm in the Middle. But then, there is not enough job out there. And either I must settle as a humble security guard, or be an elementary teacher, or wrestle with the government employees, or smile a lot as an assistant manager for a pizza company, or thwang, tongue-twist, talk to americans about their favorite bouquets, or sit for hell hours typing and listening to accented doctors. I end up the last. Choices, choices... we never really get what we want. But we need money so we settle for what's available. It's a cutthroat business, the lucky ones get laid first or laid off first.

Bill Gates, I am your son.

Psychosocial Moratorium a.k.a. We're Psychos

2006-04-13T03:17:00.000-07:00

At this point, I quite don't know where I am going. No path was set for me. I am not Bill Gates' son you know, nothing's there for me. I know I am definitely not alone in this department. Thanks to some psychologist guy, this situation has a term: psychosocial moratorium, although, I never really went to the mountains and lived there alone. What do I want? Do I have what I need? Is there something yet I haven't achieved? (A lot) Am I the next president of this country? Is Judas a saint? Am I Judas? God knows Judas not pay. Am I wearing a straight jacket? Is this asylum? And the questions go on and on and on and on and on... and this could go on forever and ever and ever and ever... I am sick! Everybody agreed.
When I was young, I thought I'd become a priest. Everybody went scared. As if I am not capable, come on guys, it's in the face. They all puked. Then, I joked I would just become a Metro Aide... they just clean and clean and get little pay. Pity them. I thought I wanted to go to military school, yeah right! Then, there's the urge to be a doctor, a neural surgeon per se. Are you doubly insane? I mean do you have money. Just be a nurse. Nothing against nurse, I am just too impatient to take care of the patients and the arrogant physicians (Thanks to Scrubs and Grey's Anatomy, they make a vivid picture of a very funny, un-boring, lively physicians but definitely cocky and arrogant). Not to mention the poo, the poo, the awful poo. The poo that will conquer it all. Suddenly, may be a marine biologist wouldn't be such a bad idea... I mean you get to dive, to snorkel, to scuba, to sightseeing with corals, to be get bitten by a shark, to record boring data, to drown, to marry a microscope, to get stung by a jelly fish and man-o-wars, to stink like a fish, to tan yourself forever. That sounds like not so bad an idea. Oh yeah!
And I became a medical transcriptionist. Everything else is history.

What more could I ask? Damn this, just kill me!

Radio Killed the bleeping Star

2006-04-13T02:50:00.000-07:00

I wished I heard myself talking on the radio. It was the first time I talked on the radio other than of course having my name uttered by DJ Francis on NU for making a "sort-of" comment. Hearing your name is heaven, then if it happens many times, it can be annoying. Luckily, it never happened many times yet. Good for me. Or not.
My radio appearance (or disappearance or whatever you call that) was just to accompany a friend who is quite afraid of the limelight. I know, I have been featured in a local TV network and they bannered a headline with my name wrongly spelled, both first and last names, and not only was I shy to be broadcasted, I was also ashamed for the murderous attack on my name... needless to say I was only a filler, they were supposed to scoop some police news and they found me... supposed to be a news-worthy individual. Oh boy, they were wrong! Or not. I mean, they've been featuring dead bodies in their underwears in their show, at least I was a decent scoop. Decent, boring scoop. People need those "eeww" factor. They like 'em. And that means everyone must not die in the city or else you'll be one of those dead guys (and gals) in their skimpy red bikinis, innards hanging optional, getting gushes from the well-deserved audience. Enough of that TV stint. Back to the radio where you don't need to show your face and no one will ever tell you, "My father thought you're very small." I backfired by saying, "No, they just have big desks, and that I was leaning," or I was just ashamed, I literally went small. Again, back to the radio.
We talked a lot of stuff. I mean my fellow guests have notes with them. All I have was the idea that I may be able to answer the questions spontaneously or I'd like it to say extemporaneously. Oh boy, again, I was wrong. Bad idea, indeed. It was all about the "Telematic Age". I kinda researched that stuff, because the hell I know about Telematic Age. There's Ice Age, Middle Ages, Renassaince, What's my Age again, Age of the Living Dead, and yeah the Telematic Age. I never really researched, got no time. But, I was excited! Glad it was over!
After the excruciating one hour of haplessly looking for exact answers without sounding stupid, I was able to go through it all. I survived my first radio gig. Radio companies, you can hire me now. Radio is not yet dead or dying, Podcast is still "radio", and I am pleased to stretch, er, my, ehem, talent. Any violent reactions?

The Drama, the Drama of My Life in Sepia

2005-12-11T22:35:00.000-08:00

I have come to learn that the real happiness is really hard to find. I have been trying to look somewhere, but as they say it's a needle in a haystack. Then, it could be a gamble on my part. I am trying to find it on every people I meet, I got a connection with. Inevitably, I always failed. I have been depressed many times because of this. I might have experienced temporary bliss, but the compromise is a little painful if not gruesome. Happiness I thought is found by having to enjoy every moment without thinking of the future, just the present, focus on the present. No rainbows, just what is now and what WE have. But, no! It is always about the future. What will you get next, what is upstake with this "present"?

But, I prefer to think that I live in the present and think that this will LAST and hold the fear that it will not. Yet, as the fear gets humungous and seems to cover the brighter horizon, I succumb into fear of having to fail again. Failure is my dessert. After that, I have to repeat the whole meal again the next day and face the yet-another-necessary dessert. I cannot vomit. I have to continue.

Right now, I don't know where my road will lead me. I know I will still encounter tiny tidbits of happiness, but the ultimate happiness is not found with the people you meet along the way. It is found with the security of believing that in time, it is the gift you will receive from the Greater Being that you will be willing to share with others. I am happy now and I will be very happy in the future.