Pardon the delay in what I had sworn to be an everyday blog posting. The delay was due to a rather unexpected vital endeavor that I had been doing for the past days that ate so much of my time and money, too (not to mention the added electricity consumption from late night PC usage).
Bum as I am, I had to finally think of creative ways not to exacerbate my predicament as part of the unemployed. I had spent my undying yet unfruitful days (months now) watching television and movies tied with internet browsing for jobs that would satisfy my insatiable desire to find a dynamic and well-rounded career, so to speak. So much so for this search, a friend of mine back from etelecare who already was part of the unemployed got this brilliant idea of luring me into this hobby of hers that had metamorphosed as an addiction - the Ragnarok frenzy.
Yes and you are right. I had been spending most of my 24/7 into this online game. What had turned out to be as a mere substitute to boredom eventually daunted my entire day to near-to-a-day gaming experience. Eerie at first but satisfying as you see yourself spending most of your time on that chair in front of the PC, clicking the mouse and killing monsters from porrings to willows to pupae to planktons to marinas and the list goes on and on for the hunt and the killing. This rather routinary hunt would seem to be boring but this task my friend is what seems to be hooking up RO (short for Ragnarok Online) clients and users.
DO NOT BE MISTAKEN. I am not endorsing that game to any of my readers, if I even have readers for crying out loud. So this early on, if ever and you would decide to play it, PLAY AT YOUR OWN RISK.
The online game starts with a selection and making of your own character(s) and distributing skills to whatever it is you feel like important to that character(s) as you level him/her up for a future job. And then it starts off with a lecture from god-knows-who characters that give a primer on how to use the system and the background of the game. As you progress with the curriculum, you would tend to remember some things and believe me when I tell you to remember important facts at heart as you would undergo a test for approval before you get to the actual fighting. Once done, you would have to fight and ready your character's armpit for an intensive exercise using a dagger for the killing. Frustration comes and goes due to lack of experience and you would see your character often stainless of blood on the floor being sat and being stepped on - it's what they call repeated dying. It is part of the process. Get over it. Fight as your character becomes strong. And the vicious cycle goes on again.
It just occurred to me. The game was more or less like a Tamagochi game. The only difference is that you do not take care of a pet. You take care of a character that would be often related to yourself - your ultimate dream/fantasy character, only you look the same as the others. Anyhow, it is more expensive, too and would cater to high-end technology users.
Computer illiterate, hands off this game. Try mahjong for a change!Or solitaire. It's not discrimination. It's just the fact of this game.
Wednesday, December 29, 2004
Monday, December 13, 2004
At last, I am back!
I was long, long, long gone. It is about time to finally post something again and update this site of mine. Well, my avid readers(like I have an audience, duh!), don't fret. I was just too preoccupied with my recent task, and that is doing the laundry, Filipino style - handwashed!
You all got me right. Handwashing of clothes. Now I am starting to see that big question mark running down your forehead to your chin while you got this unusual hobby of mine. (I am psychic, don't ask). Honestly, this is what I had been busy for the last two days and the lame excuse of not having a prepaid internet credit.
Handwashing is NOT fun. Having to rub your hands with a bar soap is definitely not what I had seen of myself doing in the future. But that was my predicament, still is and still will be in the next few weeks, I guess. Looking at the bright side of my endeavor though, I need not go to the gym anymore to have my body toned down especially my arms. Handwashing is an instant and home regimen for shaping the deltoids, biceps and triceps most especially when you are washing a pair of jeans with your own bare hands. (Ouch!) Doing this act needs a lot of patience and practice though and is not advised for neophytes. Courage is needed also to complete this dreadful task. You're lucky if you don't bleed.
I know you guys are a little bemused why I am doing the laundry (take note, handwashing) of my sister's and mine. There are such words like JOBLESS, BROKE and HOMEBOUND on me while on my sister's list are WORK, TIRED, OFFICE. You do the analysis. And besides, our helper (our parent's actually but she gets to help us out, too when my parent's come to Manila to visit us and she does our laundry) went to her province in Quezon (I hope her relatives didn't get to experience the flashflood and landslides) for a vacation. As a result, we do our laundry among other things.
Amidst the detrimental effect of doing the laundry on my ego and self-imposed domestication, it sure is part of being independent. Maybe I am just being prepared for better things to come. If ever I get to go abroad which I eventually will god-willing, being a home-maker is definitely my specialty majoring in laundry service, Filipino style!
You all got me right. Handwashing of clothes. Now I am starting to see that big question mark running down your forehead to your chin while you got this unusual hobby of mine. (I am psychic, don't ask). Honestly, this is what I had been busy for the last two days and the lame excuse of not having a prepaid internet credit.
Handwashing is NOT fun. Having to rub your hands with a bar soap is definitely not what I had seen of myself doing in the future. But that was my predicament, still is and still will be in the next few weeks, I guess. Looking at the bright side of my endeavor though, I need not go to the gym anymore to have my body toned down especially my arms. Handwashing is an instant and home regimen for shaping the deltoids, biceps and triceps most especially when you are washing a pair of jeans with your own bare hands. (Ouch!) Doing this act needs a lot of patience and practice though and is not advised for neophytes. Courage is needed also to complete this dreadful task. You're lucky if you don't bleed.
I know you guys are a little bemused why I am doing the laundry (take note, handwashing) of my sister's and mine. There are such words like JOBLESS, BROKE and HOMEBOUND on me while on my sister's list are WORK, TIRED, OFFICE. You do the analysis. And besides, our helper (our parent's actually but she gets to help us out, too when my parent's come to Manila to visit us and she does our laundry) went to her province in Quezon (I hope her relatives didn't get to experience the flashflood and landslides) for a vacation. As a result, we do our laundry among other things.
Amidst the detrimental effect of doing the laundry on my ego and self-imposed domestication, it sure is part of being independent. Maybe I am just being prepared for better things to come. If ever I get to go abroad which I eventually will god-willing, being a home-maker is definitely my specialty majoring in laundry service, Filipino style!
Saturday, December 11, 2004
My Walk to Remember
It was not everyday that I got to experience walking on my way home. What I meant was long walks of course like a two-to-two-and-a-half- kilometer walk. After attending a kiddy party (oh yes!) from a mall, I had decided to walk from there on my way home. It was an impulse since I knew for sure that there were scavenging snatchers and robbers somewhere. But if I did not conquer my fear at that instant, like all of us would normally do, I would be forever overshadowed by my fear. I was decided. I never were afraid of snatchers nor robbers, these would just make my world smaller and less freer.
On my way out of the mall and walking from the hallway, I saw some cellphone casings and the thought and image of my mom's mobile phone reverberated from my memory. I halted from one store to another in the middle of the hallway trying to choose what would suit best for her mobile phone. Decided, I took charge from this store and she started showing me an immensely handful of casings. I ended up buying two and that cost me a bit. I did not mind at all. That was the least I could do for my mother.
After that buying, I finally went out of the mall and started walking with vehicles almost a meter away from my unprotected body. The technique was to stay close at the edge of the walls of the pedestrian-like structures to keep myself off an accident.
Walking, there were people staring. There were people who didn't seem to care. There were people pretty much occupied with their own thoughts, too. We were anonymous. We were just faceless individuals walking and filling in the empty sides of the streets. It felt good. Solitary and undisturbed thoughts at last.
I saw a group of teenagers passing by me and in a flash, I pondered on that. I made up my first theory, with flaws. I called it the FRIENDSHIP THEORY. It says people do not find friends. Friends seek people. The word defines who we are. We meet people almost all the time and we could tell instantly if we could extend that moment into friendship. Somehow in a twisted way like a cosmic disturbance, we get to encounter and feel the connection. Thus, a friendship is formed just like that. Of course we solicit time to get to know that person for a possible friend material. Sometimes we fail but most of the time we achieve what we want. We gain a friend.
As I continued walking, another thought zoomed in my head and SOURGRAPE THEORY was formulated. It explains that talent is not everything. There are a lot of talented ones out there but in a wicked sense, a rare few just succeed and shine. Factors come into play as timing does to outshine and ditch other ones to oblivion. Also, hardwork, patience and priority come into play. A variety of factors contribute to success not just mere talent. And for a jobless and broke twenty-one year old like me, timing is everything.
When I was near the village gate, I saw this mid-20's man in my peripheral vision looking like a stalker. Thoughts flushed out of my head. Survival of the fittest suddenly became my stance over this matter. Paces became fast and alert became my favorite word during that instant. With no reason, I turned my back and kick him in the crotch area bringing him agonizing pain. Or so I thought. I started running and he continued to follow me. I was thinking of more adrenaline please, more adrenaline to outrun that bastard. I was about to get some help when I got to my senses again. It was a scenario. It was a theoretical question inside my head. It was my WHAT IF I GOT ROBBED, PARANOIA THEORY.
I was hallucinating already and figured I had to loosen up. That was that walk's main purpose. Tricycles were my damn outlet to relax.
Tricycles passed by me. Tricycles that came from that same mall with the exact same people at the party, kiddy party that is. I caught myself humming and soon heard me, myself and I singing with the music in my discman. I figured that was the time to lighten up and since nobody was around, I could let out my frustration and that was to sing in tune!I started singing and singing and I did, still jumbling and wrestling and struggling the notes off one octave.
I was goofed and relaxed enough to stop singing since I was nearing our house. I would keep the ultimate performance to myself I said. I did not need a billboard or a grammy nomination for a best male artist category. I would be making fun of myself if I did. I might have a talent but it certainly was not singing. I would labelling myself a lunatic if that happened!
There was that gate of our compound-like environment at last. I left home with my neighbors doing their almost daily session of gambling and I got home with my neighbors doing their almost daily session of gambling. It was cards that they were playing when I went out that morning and when I got home, it was their favorite mahjong. There might have been a constant shift from playing cards to mahjong, I still have to observe more on that. I figured that playing cards was too wholesome for that night so they changed their preference. That my friends is called a MAHJONG EVOLUTION THEORY!
On my way out of the mall and walking from the hallway, I saw some cellphone casings and the thought and image of my mom's mobile phone reverberated from my memory. I halted from one store to another in the middle of the hallway trying to choose what would suit best for her mobile phone. Decided, I took charge from this store and she started showing me an immensely handful of casings. I ended up buying two and that cost me a bit. I did not mind at all. That was the least I could do for my mother.
After that buying, I finally went out of the mall and started walking with vehicles almost a meter away from my unprotected body. The technique was to stay close at the edge of the walls of the pedestrian-like structures to keep myself off an accident.
Walking, there were people staring. There were people who didn't seem to care. There were people pretty much occupied with their own thoughts, too. We were anonymous. We were just faceless individuals walking and filling in the empty sides of the streets. It felt good. Solitary and undisturbed thoughts at last.
I saw a group of teenagers passing by me and in a flash, I pondered on that. I made up my first theory, with flaws. I called it the FRIENDSHIP THEORY. It says people do not find friends. Friends seek people. The word defines who we are. We meet people almost all the time and we could tell instantly if we could extend that moment into friendship. Somehow in a twisted way like a cosmic disturbance, we get to encounter and feel the connection. Thus, a friendship is formed just like that. Of course we solicit time to get to know that person for a possible friend material. Sometimes we fail but most of the time we achieve what we want. We gain a friend.
As I continued walking, another thought zoomed in my head and SOURGRAPE THEORY was formulated. It explains that talent is not everything. There are a lot of talented ones out there but in a wicked sense, a rare few just succeed and shine. Factors come into play as timing does to outshine and ditch other ones to oblivion. Also, hardwork, patience and priority come into play. A variety of factors contribute to success not just mere talent. And for a jobless and broke twenty-one year old like me, timing is everything.
When I was near the village gate, I saw this mid-20's man in my peripheral vision looking like a stalker. Thoughts flushed out of my head. Survival of the fittest suddenly became my stance over this matter. Paces became fast and alert became my favorite word during that instant. With no reason, I turned my back and kick him in the crotch area bringing him agonizing pain. Or so I thought. I started running and he continued to follow me. I was thinking of more adrenaline please, more adrenaline to outrun that bastard. I was about to get some help when I got to my senses again. It was a scenario. It was a theoretical question inside my head. It was my WHAT IF I GOT ROBBED, PARANOIA THEORY.
I was hallucinating already and figured I had to loosen up. That was that walk's main purpose. Tricycles were my damn outlet to relax.
Tricycles passed by me. Tricycles that came from that same mall with the exact same people at the party, kiddy party that is. I caught myself humming and soon heard me, myself and I singing with the music in my discman. I figured that was the time to lighten up and since nobody was around, I could let out my frustration and that was to sing in tune!I started singing and singing and I did, still jumbling and wrestling and struggling the notes off one octave.
I was goofed and relaxed enough to stop singing since I was nearing our house. I would keep the ultimate performance to myself I said. I did not need a billboard or a grammy nomination for a best male artist category. I would be making fun of myself if I did. I might have a talent but it certainly was not singing. I would labelling myself a lunatic if that happened!
There was that gate of our compound-like environment at last. I left home with my neighbors doing their almost daily session of gambling and I got home with my neighbors doing their almost daily session of gambling. It was cards that they were playing when I went out that morning and when I got home, it was their favorite mahjong. There might have been a constant shift from playing cards to mahjong, I still have to observe more on that. I figured that playing cards was too wholesome for that night so they changed their preference. That my friends is called a MAHJONG EVOLUTION THEORY!
A Day's Worth!
What a day this had been! After keeping up with the time in squeezing all the things in my to-do list for the day, I could very well say that this day had been the most productive among the days I have ever, ever had in the past.
Mornings I never liked always. I never really found the reason why but I just hated (I am still hating it!) mornings. It was more than the sun shining up and penetrating through my screened windows. But every time the sun went up, that was more or less the sign that I had to get on with my day. You might be wondering why of all my babbling started over this morning sickness of mine, a different one to say the least. Wonder no more because I was just trying to establish the point that I usually if not most of the time started my days late. But even though this was the case, I would still get the best of that morning and that less-than 24-hour tick tock clock of mine.
With my shorthanded plot, I will now continue since I already did establish the fact that I was and still am a morning abhorrer. As I was saying, this was the best ever. Getting up from my bed, I started my day going downstairs and doing my daily routine – spit my almost twelve-hour saliva collection, gargle and pee which I did accordingly. All these of course after opening my eyes, checking for any missed calls or unread messages and a few cat stretches on my bed. Nothing new actually as far as my daily wake-up routine was concerned. What made this day shine over the past days’ experiences was my itinerary. I was scheduled to attend my neighbor’s exciting party at 3 in the afternoon. Yes, a party different from I had attended before - except that this one had a Jollibee and Champ mascots. You were right my friend, this was a kiddy party I was talking about with more adults than toddlers and kids. Then I wondered, “Why was it called a kiddy party when in fact a LOT or a big number of participants invited are thirty something up?”
The invitation was basically because of my sister. She was the godmother of the birthday celebrant so I got invited, too. I guess we were just (un)lucky to have been included in the party since WE ARE NOT THAT OLD and were not included in the age bracket of the majority. But nevertheless, we decided to attend out of ‘hiya’ and ‘pakikisama’ and we adored the kid, I think. So everything was actually set until she told me that she could not make it. She had to do some overnight work and as much as she wanted to attend, she couldn’t. She was missing a lot I said to myself. She would be missing the moment where people would point their fingers at us and not to mention the “OUTCAST” sign invisibly written on our shirts. But since she couldn’t handle the limelight, she just gave all the pride and glory to her brother, ME. And it was all set and planned. I would go to the party ALONE. So be it.
After that talk over breakfast about that attendance at the kiddy party, I decided to send a couple of SMS messages to my former boss to finally get my clearance and my collectibles for the company I used to work for. Since it was already three months since I completed everything, praise God it was already for pick up. He advised me to come get the check (on a Saturday, mind you where banks are closed!) at 3PM and just look for this person to get it from. I would do exactly what was said to me. My patience finally paid off, whew!
My original plan was to go to the party for a couple of minutes, have myself earn a ten-minute exposure and go to this place in Libis where I used to work at to get my check, have myself cleared and go on with my life for good. Everything got twisted when I got a call from my best friend currently in Cebu for some work deployment and gave me a little scoop. She told me about this another best friend of ours about her emotional imbalance issues (that mainly dealt with a crush she had with an ugly guy at her office) so I opted to stay a little bit longer at home, call this problematic best friend of ours (trying to be a good friend here, ahem!) to have her checked.
Her problem was so classified that details were hard to divulge (like it was THAT hard!) entirely. But since this is intended for everybody’s analysis, this is the scenario in a much rougher and general sense. Girl admires boy. Boy doesn’t know. Girl likes him because he’s kind but not good-looking, take note. So, when it was the boy who is flirting with her and starting to like her, girl runs away. Girl freaks out. Now, girl is worried. Girl is thinking she is lesbian which is entirely farfetched. Knowing the situation, I called her, talked about it and realized that I was late for my scheduled party and my check for pick-up. We then continued talking about different things and thoughts at random not worried about my tasks. I would like to assume that we had put that period (like this [.]) on her issue and for some divine intervention, somebody was calling her (she had that call waiting feature) and I got cut, put the handset down, rushed upstairs, got a towel, got inside the bathroom and ten minutes after, voila, I was done taking a shower! I then hurried back upstairs, chose a casual look of a kurduroy black shorts and white shirt ensemble with a black semi-leather wrist strap, my precious bling!bling! necklace (not the big, silver, thick dog-like, rapper collar necklace with fake diamonds, please!) and my watch still exuding a casual fashion icon outfit of course (fashion blahs!).
In a span of less than twenty minutes, I got dressed up with my black vintage bag (my favorite!) still part of my ensemble. So in that spun moment, haste was my counterpart. Still passing my oh-so-familiar-fragile neighbors, I took off. It was not the infamous mahjong they were playing this time, it was cards for some variation. On my way to the main highway, I thought of going to Libis first and just go to the oh-so-exciting party after. I did what the sudden change of plans dictated. My first stop was at LIBIS.
Getting in the jeepney, I knew something was wrong. There was not going to be any robbery or snatching mind you. It was something else. It was about that driver who seemed to be stopping to every street we got to pass thus resulting into a gala-like (but not festive) parade exhibiting, well, nothing but a bunch of aggravated passengers. If it were not a crime to behead, skin and rub every exposed muscle with salt and vinegar of that bare and skinless human body, we could have started a cult ritual that time.
After that tedious ride, I got off that jeepney 100 meters away from the usual drop off point to spare myself with anymore masochistic and self-induced penitence. I hurriedly paved my way to the old building where I used to work at with strides that of the Titan because I was way behind schedule. Shindig, remember? Upon getting my check (finally!) after a mere quarter, I was ready to put out my shopping list, the bank was closed everyone in case anyone had forgotten, it is a Saturday today.
Wasting no time, I spotted for a perfect ride and twenty minutes after that Libis incident, I was at Ever Ortigas – the place called LOTJ (translation – The Land of the Jologs). I merely wore my head up for fear of somebody I knew spotting me in that kind of place. I quickly asked the guard for directions of where that Jollibee was and in a few moments, I was there at the venue. For quite a while, I thought I was a cactus in a dessert. Everybody knew and saw me coming and like a spiny cactus, nobody dared to approach me and say hi, except for the mother’s celebrant and her few kin which I did not mind.
I was handed a full-forced meal – a cheese burger (I suppose an appetizer), a spaghetti meal (This might be the part where I pretend I was going to have a light snack), a chicken joy meal (My favorite, I just hoped I got the breast part. Oooopsy, daisy, I got it!), a chocolate sundae (The finale!) and a soda (I hope it’s with less calorie, I refrain from drinking canned drinks!). My eyes binged with what they saw, they almost watered for food suffocation. From that incident, I learned my lesson. I had eaten the cheeseburger, the chocolate sundae and the soda and the rest I was planning to take home for dinner which happened eventually.
Ten minutes passed and guess who came. If it weren’t the mascots, I would be freaking surprised! Two mascots came cheering up the birthday celebrant, like they mean it! They were nearly dying inside those thermal-like suits and sweating their armpits off. They were like walking Sauna baths inside for crying out loud! Amidst all of those, I saluted them. That’s what you call dedication and mind power at their best. Way to go mascots!
After their ten-minute threshold because of own smell suffocation, they left. Ten minutes after that, it was time for a pack-up. Guests went off happy with their kids. As for me, its pharisaic that I did not enjoy the moment which I did for a second there upon realizing what was happening inside the suits. I said my good byes and I took off.
Well, that was what had happened to me the entire day. Phone calls and follow-ups during the morning and a party (PARTY!) in the afternoon. Nothing fancy really, but the thought of me attending a kiddy party doesn't happen everyday. As I like to call it, that is a Saturday’s alternative lifestyle where normal teens attend normal parties while I sit and rot in a kiddy party.
P.S.
I was relieved when I found out for myself that there were no clowns at the party. Why do kids love clowns by the way? Hey, blame the parents not the kids. They make the decisions, not the kids. For future parents, please, no clowns for birthday parties. Salvage your kids from a ten-year torment!
Mornings I never liked always. I never really found the reason why but I just hated (I am still hating it!) mornings. It was more than the sun shining up and penetrating through my screened windows. But every time the sun went up, that was more or less the sign that I had to get on with my day. You might be wondering why of all my babbling started over this morning sickness of mine, a different one to say the least. Wonder no more because I was just trying to establish the point that I usually if not most of the time started my days late. But even though this was the case, I would still get the best of that morning and that less-than 24-hour tick tock clock of mine.
With my shorthanded plot, I will now continue since I already did establish the fact that I was and still am a morning abhorrer. As I was saying, this was the best ever. Getting up from my bed, I started my day going downstairs and doing my daily routine – spit my almost twelve-hour saliva collection, gargle and pee which I did accordingly. All these of course after opening my eyes, checking for any missed calls or unread messages and a few cat stretches on my bed. Nothing new actually as far as my daily wake-up routine was concerned. What made this day shine over the past days’ experiences was my itinerary. I was scheduled to attend my neighbor’s exciting party at 3 in the afternoon. Yes, a party different from I had attended before - except that this one had a Jollibee and Champ mascots. You were right my friend, this was a kiddy party I was talking about with more adults than toddlers and kids. Then I wondered, “Why was it called a kiddy party when in fact a LOT or a big number of participants invited are thirty something up?”
The invitation was basically because of my sister. She was the godmother of the birthday celebrant so I got invited, too. I guess we were just (un)lucky to have been included in the party since WE ARE NOT THAT OLD and were not included in the age bracket of the majority. But nevertheless, we decided to attend out of ‘hiya’ and ‘pakikisama’ and we adored the kid, I think. So everything was actually set until she told me that she could not make it. She had to do some overnight work and as much as she wanted to attend, she couldn’t. She was missing a lot I said to myself. She would be missing the moment where people would point their fingers at us and not to mention the “OUTCAST” sign invisibly written on our shirts. But since she couldn’t handle the limelight, she just gave all the pride and glory to her brother, ME. And it was all set and planned. I would go to the party ALONE. So be it.
After that talk over breakfast about that attendance at the kiddy party, I decided to send a couple of SMS messages to my former boss to finally get my clearance and my collectibles for the company I used to work for. Since it was already three months since I completed everything, praise God it was already for pick up. He advised me to come get the check (on a Saturday, mind you where banks are closed!) at 3PM and just look for this person to get it from. I would do exactly what was said to me. My patience finally paid off, whew!
My original plan was to go to the party for a couple of minutes, have myself earn a ten-minute exposure and go to this place in Libis where I used to work at to get my check, have myself cleared and go on with my life for good. Everything got twisted when I got a call from my best friend currently in Cebu for some work deployment and gave me a little scoop. She told me about this another best friend of ours about her emotional imbalance issues (that mainly dealt with a crush she had with an ugly guy at her office) so I opted to stay a little bit longer at home, call this problematic best friend of ours (trying to be a good friend here, ahem!) to have her checked.
Her problem was so classified that details were hard to divulge (like it was THAT hard!) entirely. But since this is intended for everybody’s analysis, this is the scenario in a much rougher and general sense. Girl admires boy. Boy doesn’t know. Girl likes him because he’s kind but not good-looking, take note. So, when it was the boy who is flirting with her and starting to like her, girl runs away. Girl freaks out. Now, girl is worried. Girl is thinking she is lesbian which is entirely farfetched. Knowing the situation, I called her, talked about it and realized that I was late for my scheduled party and my check for pick-up. We then continued talking about different things and thoughts at random not worried about my tasks. I would like to assume that we had put that period (like this [.]) on her issue and for some divine intervention, somebody was calling her (she had that call waiting feature) and I got cut, put the handset down, rushed upstairs, got a towel, got inside the bathroom and ten minutes after, voila, I was done taking a shower! I then hurried back upstairs, chose a casual look of a kurduroy black shorts and white shirt ensemble with a black semi-leather wrist strap, my precious bling!bling! necklace (not the big, silver, thick dog-like, rapper collar necklace with fake diamonds, please!) and my watch still exuding a casual fashion icon outfit of course (fashion blahs!).
In a span of less than twenty minutes, I got dressed up with my black vintage bag (my favorite!) still part of my ensemble. So in that spun moment, haste was my counterpart. Still passing my oh-so-familiar-fragile neighbors, I took off. It was not the infamous mahjong they were playing this time, it was cards for some variation. On my way to the main highway, I thought of going to Libis first and just go to the oh-so-exciting party after. I did what the sudden change of plans dictated. My first stop was at LIBIS.
Getting in the jeepney, I knew something was wrong. There was not going to be any robbery or snatching mind you. It was something else. It was about that driver who seemed to be stopping to every street we got to pass thus resulting into a gala-like (but not festive) parade exhibiting, well, nothing but a bunch of aggravated passengers. If it were not a crime to behead, skin and rub every exposed muscle with salt and vinegar of that bare and skinless human body, we could have started a cult ritual that time.
After that tedious ride, I got off that jeepney 100 meters away from the usual drop off point to spare myself with anymore masochistic and self-induced penitence. I hurriedly paved my way to the old building where I used to work at with strides that of the Titan because I was way behind schedule. Shindig, remember? Upon getting my check (finally!) after a mere quarter, I was ready to put out my shopping list, the bank was closed everyone in case anyone had forgotten, it is a Saturday today.
Wasting no time, I spotted for a perfect ride and twenty minutes after that Libis incident, I was at Ever Ortigas – the place called LOTJ (translation – The Land of the Jologs). I merely wore my head up for fear of somebody I knew spotting me in that kind of place. I quickly asked the guard for directions of where that Jollibee was and in a few moments, I was there at the venue. For quite a while, I thought I was a cactus in a dessert. Everybody knew and saw me coming and like a spiny cactus, nobody dared to approach me and say hi, except for the mother’s celebrant and her few kin which I did not mind.
I was handed a full-forced meal – a cheese burger (I suppose an appetizer), a spaghetti meal (This might be the part where I pretend I was going to have a light snack), a chicken joy meal (My favorite, I just hoped I got the breast part. Oooopsy, daisy, I got it!), a chocolate sundae (The finale!) and a soda (I hope it’s with less calorie, I refrain from drinking canned drinks!). My eyes binged with what they saw, they almost watered for food suffocation. From that incident, I learned my lesson. I had eaten the cheeseburger, the chocolate sundae and the soda and the rest I was planning to take home for dinner which happened eventually.
Ten minutes passed and guess who came. If it weren’t the mascots, I would be freaking surprised! Two mascots came cheering up the birthday celebrant, like they mean it! They were nearly dying inside those thermal-like suits and sweating their armpits off. They were like walking Sauna baths inside for crying out loud! Amidst all of those, I saluted them. That’s what you call dedication and mind power at their best. Way to go mascots!
After their ten-minute threshold because of own smell suffocation, they left. Ten minutes after that, it was time for a pack-up. Guests went off happy with their kids. As for me, its pharisaic that I did not enjoy the moment which I did for a second there upon realizing what was happening inside the suits. I said my good byes and I took off.
Well, that was what had happened to me the entire day. Phone calls and follow-ups during the morning and a party (PARTY!) in the afternoon. Nothing fancy really, but the thought of me attending a kiddy party doesn't happen everyday. As I like to call it, that is a Saturday’s alternative lifestyle where normal teens attend normal parties while I sit and rot in a kiddy party.
P.S.
I was relieved when I found out for myself that there were no clowns at the party. Why do kids love clowns by the way? Hey, blame the parents not the kids. They make the decisions, not the kids. For future parents, please, no clowns for birthday parties. Salvage your kids from a ten-year torment!
Friday, December 10, 2004
Yesterday's Itinerary Part Une
After a quite hermitage from our house, I decided to finally get out - update myself with the latest fashion grabs, movie showings and, well, run an errand for my mother of course.
Wearing my red shirt, my comfy pair of jeans and my vintage black postman bag, I was definitely ready to go. So off I went from our house located at the back of a compound-like environment where our curious neighbors were who seemed to not get tired of asking where I would go. The front house of our compound was the busiest house I had seen so far in my lifetime. From as early as 8AM, it was already filled with fragile (a little bit old) neighbors that seemed to get together for a major-ly important mahjong session that would last up till 2 in the morning with a bit manicure and pedicure services of a home salon on the side. But now I am digressing...
Well, back to my story. My first pit stop was to fulfill my errand my mother had specifically told me - drop the advance payment for her some insurance plan, which was exactly in my head. After a five-minute walk from the drop-off point, I got to my destination.
Undergoing the usual inspection from the building's security that involved a stare and glare from head to foot to make sure I was 'fit' to go inside the premises and not to mention the oh-so-bored receptionist to have me ID-ied, I got my way in the elevator. On my way to that company where the ever-so-self-entertained-agent because of that long conversation from a friend 'entertainment type' over the phone gave me her no-reaction welcome.
Nothing special happened during the transaction, really. From the way she entertained me, it looked to me that she was very much devoted to her job - phone-bound, I mean, desk-bound for eight hours and alone, who would have not thought of such diversion! She made me sit on one of the blue chairs and was asked to wait while she was doing her actual job description (finally!). Eleven minutes after, I was out of the office and in a hallway of the building after pressing the 'V' (down) sign of the elevator while turning my discman on. Hearing the cue sound 'ting!' from the elevator, I immediately jumped inside the elevator and 30 seconds after, much to my surprise, it was going up to the top floor and I ended up doing a round-trip elevator ride.
Elevators sometimes give you a headache and a woozy feeling!
Wearing my red shirt, my comfy pair of jeans and my vintage black postman bag, I was definitely ready to go. So off I went from our house located at the back of a compound-like environment where our curious neighbors were who seemed to not get tired of asking where I would go. The front house of our compound was the busiest house I had seen so far in my lifetime. From as early as 8AM, it was already filled with fragile (a little bit old) neighbors that seemed to get together for a major-ly important mahjong session that would last up till 2 in the morning with a bit manicure and pedicure services of a home salon on the side. But now I am digressing...
Well, back to my story. My first pit stop was to fulfill my errand my mother had specifically told me - drop the advance payment for her some insurance plan, which was exactly in my head. After a five-minute walk from the drop-off point, I got to my destination.
Undergoing the usual inspection from the building's security that involved a stare and glare from head to foot to make sure I was 'fit' to go inside the premises and not to mention the oh-so-bored receptionist to have me ID-ied, I got my way in the elevator. On my way to that company where the ever-so-self-entertained-agent because of that long conversation from a friend 'entertainment type' over the phone gave me her no-reaction welcome.
Nothing special happened during the transaction, really. From the way she entertained me, it looked to me that she was very much devoted to her job - phone-bound, I mean, desk-bound for eight hours and alone, who would have not thought of such diversion! She made me sit on one of the blue chairs and was asked to wait while she was doing her actual job description (finally!). Eleven minutes after, I was out of the office and in a hallway of the building after pressing the 'V' (down) sign of the elevator while turning my discman on. Hearing the cue sound 'ting!' from the elevator, I immediately jumped inside the elevator and 30 seconds after, much to my surprise, it was going up to the top floor and I ended up doing a round-trip elevator ride.
Elevators sometimes give you a headache and a woozy feeling!
Thursday, December 09, 2004
Yesterday's Itinerary Part Deux
Settling that one errand of mine, I was off to go to Galleria - the nearest mall in Ortigas. I decided to have my feet working and have some uneven strides on my way there passing the corporate buildings and the people rushing to get their errands done for themselves.
During that walk, I was sight seeing while I have that Maroon 5 CD playing moderately on my ears. Finally getting there at Galleria with my eyes contented from the feast, the mall's security guards had their routine on each of their customers - checking bags and pressing their hands against the bodies for security purposes. And for a moment there, I thought of their job as a cool profession.
My second task was to watch movies...Emphasis on the 'S' please. I checked for the time screenings of the movies and decided to watch Ned Kelly and Birth, one after the other respectively since these two movies are the newest additions in the movie house.
Not having my lunch yet since all I had was a medium sized, ripe papaya for breakfast, I decided to go for the unconventional Palabok Fiesta Meal with extra rice from Jollibee instead of the popcorn and soda crap to bring with me in the moviehouse. Inside the moviehouse after getting that best seat and opening my meal, the attendant forgot to include some gravy together with my mouth-watering crispy chicken joy. Instead of experiencing this as a one bad trip, I decided to just settle for my palabok.
During the course of the movie, I could not help but wonder (and I was serious), "Did this movie earn what they had spent from production?" I haven't heard of this movie came out in Hollywood. Was this a prodigal flop Hollywood movie? Or was I just uninformed of this movie? I was willing to venture out more on this thought but the sudden appearance of a foot on top of the chair beside where I was sitting caught my attention. Thanks to that foot I have had my concentration back in the movie, or so I thought. Just when I was ready to thank the foot that it became a liability. From that top of the chair, that foot just popped out from behind on my arm rest wiggling. I was ready to burst out my temper but when I turned back, it was a grandmother who was behind me and it was her foot. Paying respect to that foot's owner I held back and just decided to concentrate more on Ned Kelly. "Respect the elders" got running in my head as that foot tried to wander around.
It took less than two hours to finish the movie. And from that foot challenge, I survived. I got grateful to God from that experience. Imagine if the foot smelled like a dead rat on top of that chair. It could have been worse. Sighs. Remember, "Respect the elders".
Getting out of that cinema, I went again to Jollibee to confront the attendant who got my order but found out she was not there. I ended up asking for a gravy and ordering another dalandan juice for my next movie.
More cautious this time, I chose my seat for the 'Birth' screening carefully with full scouting on elder people right behind my chosen seat. Sighing for relief, I settled and opened my un-eaten chicken joy and started finishing it off while the movie has not started yet. And so the movie started. Less than two hours later, it was done.
As I got out of the movie house, I browsed for fashion grabs quickly and concluded that vintage fashion was still hot for guys. I thought of shopping but then again I was broke and jobless. I found out I had no money for shopping, poor me.
After that quick window shopping and fashion updating, I finally decided to go home - drooling over those nice denim blazers and vintage wears.
During that walk, I was sight seeing while I have that Maroon 5 CD playing moderately on my ears. Finally getting there at Galleria with my eyes contented from the feast, the mall's security guards had their routine on each of their customers - checking bags and pressing their hands against the bodies for security purposes. And for a moment there, I thought of their job as a cool profession.
My second task was to watch movies...Emphasis on the 'S' please. I checked for the time screenings of the movies and decided to watch Ned Kelly and Birth, one after the other respectively since these two movies are the newest additions in the movie house.
Not having my lunch yet since all I had was a medium sized, ripe papaya for breakfast, I decided to go for the unconventional Palabok Fiesta Meal with extra rice from Jollibee instead of the popcorn and soda crap to bring with me in the moviehouse. Inside the moviehouse after getting that best seat and opening my meal, the attendant forgot to include some gravy together with my mouth-watering crispy chicken joy. Instead of experiencing this as a one bad trip, I decided to just settle for my palabok.
During the course of the movie, I could not help but wonder (and I was serious), "Did this movie earn what they had spent from production?" I haven't heard of this movie came out in Hollywood. Was this a prodigal flop Hollywood movie? Or was I just uninformed of this movie? I was willing to venture out more on this thought but the sudden appearance of a foot on top of the chair beside where I was sitting caught my attention. Thanks to that foot I have had my concentration back in the movie, or so I thought. Just when I was ready to thank the foot that it became a liability. From that top of the chair, that foot just popped out from behind on my arm rest wiggling. I was ready to burst out my temper but when I turned back, it was a grandmother who was behind me and it was her foot. Paying respect to that foot's owner I held back and just decided to concentrate more on Ned Kelly. "Respect the elders" got running in my head as that foot tried to wander around.
It took less than two hours to finish the movie. And from that foot challenge, I survived. I got grateful to God from that experience. Imagine if the foot smelled like a dead rat on top of that chair. It could have been worse. Sighs. Remember, "Respect the elders".
Getting out of that cinema, I went again to Jollibee to confront the attendant who got my order but found out she was not there. I ended up asking for a gravy and ordering another dalandan juice for my next movie.
More cautious this time, I chose my seat for the 'Birth' screening carefully with full scouting on elder people right behind my chosen seat. Sighing for relief, I settled and opened my un-eaten chicken joy and started finishing it off while the movie has not started yet. And so the movie started. Less than two hours later, it was done.
As I got out of the movie house, I browsed for fashion grabs quickly and concluded that vintage fashion was still hot for guys. I thought of shopping but then again I was broke and jobless. I found out I had no money for shopping, poor me.
After that quick window shopping and fashion updating, I finally decided to go home - drooling over those nice denim blazers and vintage wears.
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
A.L.T.A.R.B.O.Y.
Two days ago I have talked with someone over the net I completely have no idea who. It was in one IRC channel and what caught my attention was the catch phrase and his pick-up line that stated, "anyone up for intellectual masturbation?"Finding it totally hilarious, I ended up replying with "Intellectual maturbation?Is talking politics while doing IT counts?" (This is rephrased since I no longer remember what I exactly said. Me and my poor memory!)
And then he replied back, "No, reading Das Kapital". That nearly tested my Intellectual Quotient and started to regard myself as one pitiful, second grade brain since it had gone senile in my most challenging chat ever! I thought that was the end when I replied, "What?" and then suddenly my brain cells quickly reverberated "Karl Marx, it's Carl Marx!" which was totally dilatory in making a senseful conversation since it was the name he had written right before I got the chance to type the letters down.
And so we got caught talking and talking to one another - of things that were not even related to Marx' Das Kapital, politics and national crises.
I spent majority of my time defending what was left of my brain over some gruesome age of mine. He didn't believe I was 21. Who would, in a chatroom since we were talking sense then. So to put everything in brevity, he didn't believe me and was regarded as a 45-to-65 year-old sex-deprived old man trying to get a satisfaction from somebody who was young, vibrant and, well young. That pissed me off and started blah-ing just to prove him wrong. Catch this, when it was time to reveal his age, he answered with a whopping 82-year-old man which I didn't believe of course. In my defense, "82-year-olds (NO OFFENSE really to old people!) are not in front of the computer and typing. They are on their rocking chair waiting for some hot milk." But I didn't nail my argument since he wasn't disclosing his age, at least not anytime soon.
After a tiring but stimulating argument over some matters only immature adults argue about, he started to say his goodbyes which was unfair and unjust for he made me all reved up for a conversation. This is what he said and what made me assume that I was talking to myself (conceited and all, just this once!hehe), "Tell me you like me and Let me stay".
IDIOT!He totally reversed the situation. I knew he liked to talk with me since he had all the time to do rebuttals for his own volition and defense. Otherwise, he won't be staying that long if I were not a conversationalist and was a bore to him. Still, I did what I was told and totally did what I was asked of that made me more idiotic than him by the way. Thinking that I was in the upper hand of the situation but just quite the opposite, like a crustacean looking for a new shell for hermitage and hibernaculum, I made him stay and made my few hours of boredom into a chaotic clash between the Titans and the Gods.
During the course of our conversation, he suddenly dropped the bomb. According to him, he was dying and that was the last time we would be talking with each other. That created chills and goosebumps all over me. Was I wrong?Why did I make this suicidal, psychopath convicted son of a gun stay?For all I knew, he was some serial killer got caught a few years back who pretended to be nice and smart that was looking for an early 20's victim to feed off his appetite from a long silence and solitude grudges against the world. But knowing me, I didn't halt there. To worsen things out, I asked a gazillion questions trying to crack this Hannibal reincarnated.
He confessed that he was dying and he was NOT suicidal. And from my line of questioning, he was not a leftist also. He was not eighty-something and according to him, he was a Political Science student of UP and was not enrolled this term. I kept on asking why he was running out of time (hello!DYING is the word!) but I did not get an honest and staightforward answer. He repeatedly said that he did not want to die but sometimes things just happen for a reason, or at least that was what I had understood. It was an honest answer, I think. He hid his true name under 'altarboy' but never to squeeze out his real name.
During that entire blah-ing and antagonizing, I felt and my gutt told me he was telling the truth and managed to again think of questions to soften this rock up. Due to his stubborness and resemblance of myself, I wasn't able to. I continued to ask and ask with so many theoretical, practical and hearty questions but of no decent exegesis still of what and why he was dying. I didn't know if it was a metaphorical dying (death of his old self and rebirth of his entirety) or physical dying (coffin, wake, coffee and biscuits etc.) he was referring to.
In the latter half of our talk, he said he did not want to have that serious talk right before he dies but instead happy thoughts and cranky topics. This total freakiness added up when he said he was tired and believe me, I wanted to leave him alone and make him spend the rest of his time with his family and friends or what have him.
But then he asked me to stay and I did. Just when we were ready to talk about the film 'The Incredibles' that I got cut off from the internet. I had no remaining credits already. I thought of not coming back that instant. Instead due to my innate curiousity, I came upstairs, grab a hundred bucks, went to the store and buy that prepaid card. Much of my rush, I never noticed the store was CLOSED, LOCKED and CHAINED. I tried to call for somebody at the store but nobody came out and sold me a prepaid ISP credit.
That was the end of it I said to myself. I would never know the truth. Up til now, I still wonder what happened to that 'altarboy' I got to talk with two days ago. If HE really IS dead, I pray for his soul. If IT was just a SICK JOKE over the net amongst his circle of friends, may they burn and suffer eternal torment!Hehe, just kidding!
But seriously, if it happened to be a prank, I couldn't do anything. What more can I say but hey, I GOT PUNK*D!
And then he replied back, "No, reading Das Kapital". That nearly tested my Intellectual Quotient and started to regard myself as one pitiful, second grade brain since it had gone senile in my most challenging chat ever! I thought that was the end when I replied, "What?" and then suddenly my brain cells quickly reverberated "Karl Marx, it's Carl Marx!" which was totally dilatory in making a senseful conversation since it was the name he had written right before I got the chance to type the letters down.
And so we got caught talking and talking to one another - of things that were not even related to Marx' Das Kapital, politics and national crises.
I spent majority of my time defending what was left of my brain over some gruesome age of mine. He didn't believe I was 21. Who would, in a chatroom since we were talking sense then. So to put everything in brevity, he didn't believe me and was regarded as a 45-to-65 year-old sex-deprived old man trying to get a satisfaction from somebody who was young, vibrant and, well young. That pissed me off and started blah-ing just to prove him wrong. Catch this, when it was time to reveal his age, he answered with a whopping 82-year-old man which I didn't believe of course. In my defense, "82-year-olds (NO OFFENSE really to old people!) are not in front of the computer and typing. They are on their rocking chair waiting for some hot milk." But I didn't nail my argument since he wasn't disclosing his age, at least not anytime soon.
After a tiring but stimulating argument over some matters only immature adults argue about, he started to say his goodbyes which was unfair and unjust for he made me all reved up for a conversation. This is what he said and what made me assume that I was talking to myself (conceited and all, just this once!hehe), "Tell me you like me and Let me stay".
IDIOT!He totally reversed the situation. I knew he liked to talk with me since he had all the time to do rebuttals for his own volition and defense. Otherwise, he won't be staying that long if I were not a conversationalist and was a bore to him. Still, I did what I was told and totally did what I was asked of that made me more idiotic than him by the way. Thinking that I was in the upper hand of the situation but just quite the opposite, like a crustacean looking for a new shell for hermitage and hibernaculum, I made him stay and made my few hours of boredom into a chaotic clash between the Titans and the Gods.
During the course of our conversation, he suddenly dropped the bomb. According to him, he was dying and that was the last time we would be talking with each other. That created chills and goosebumps all over me. Was I wrong?Why did I make this suicidal, psychopath convicted son of a gun stay?For all I knew, he was some serial killer got caught a few years back who pretended to be nice and smart that was looking for an early 20's victim to feed off his appetite from a long silence and solitude grudges against the world. But knowing me, I didn't halt there. To worsen things out, I asked a gazillion questions trying to crack this Hannibal reincarnated.
He confessed that he was dying and he was NOT suicidal. And from my line of questioning, he was not a leftist also. He was not eighty-something and according to him, he was a Political Science student of UP and was not enrolled this term. I kept on asking why he was running out of time (hello!DYING is the word!) but I did not get an honest and staightforward answer. He repeatedly said that he did not want to die but sometimes things just happen for a reason, or at least that was what I had understood. It was an honest answer, I think. He hid his true name under 'altarboy' but never to squeeze out his real name.
During that entire blah-ing and antagonizing, I felt and my gutt told me he was telling the truth and managed to again think of questions to soften this rock up. Due to his stubborness and resemblance of myself, I wasn't able to. I continued to ask and ask with so many theoretical, practical and hearty questions but of no decent exegesis still of what and why he was dying. I didn't know if it was a metaphorical dying (death of his old self and rebirth of his entirety) or physical dying (coffin, wake, coffee and biscuits etc.) he was referring to.
In the latter half of our talk, he said he did not want to have that serious talk right before he dies but instead happy thoughts and cranky topics. This total freakiness added up when he said he was tired and believe me, I wanted to leave him alone and make him spend the rest of his time with his family and friends or what have him.
But then he asked me to stay and I did. Just when we were ready to talk about the film 'The Incredibles' that I got cut off from the internet. I had no remaining credits already. I thought of not coming back that instant. Instead due to my innate curiousity, I came upstairs, grab a hundred bucks, went to the store and buy that prepaid card. Much of my rush, I never noticed the store was CLOSED, LOCKED and CHAINED. I tried to call for somebody at the store but nobody came out and sold me a prepaid ISP credit.
That was the end of it I said to myself. I would never know the truth. Up til now, I still wonder what happened to that 'altarboy' I got to talk with two days ago. If HE really IS dead, I pray for his soul. If IT was just a SICK JOKE over the net amongst his circle of friends, may they burn and suffer eternal torment!Hehe, just kidding!
But seriously, if it happened to be a prank, I couldn't do anything. What more can I say but hey, I GOT PUNK*D!
Sing?!? Me?!? . . . You have got to be kidding me!!!
If there is one thing I am not good at, I would definitely say that it's singing that I lack at. And it frustrates me, I would give up something of myself just to be 'I-am-a-singer' type.
Growing up I have waited for my bright star to shine on me and for my audience to worship me and my singing prowess. Heartbreaking as it is, it would never happen. The only place I can sing with a full blast, shameless performance is when I am in the bathroom taking my not-so-cold shower, and that's about it. Nothing more, nothing less. For somebody who loves and appreciates music so much, this is the worst and dreadful curse. Music isn't as grateful to me as I am to IT, which is the fruition of a gratitude-less act.
So as a result, whenever there are videoke sessions whether it'd be in Greenbelt's Redbox or Q Power Station's ten-peso per song (nine-peso per song for VIP members, ahem!)or even at some relative's house, I would make it a point to avoid the oh-so-precious microphone to save myself and my undying reputation from eternal humiliation and mass hysteria.
So if events like this happen, and you my dear friend is in the club and is part of our unfortunate destiny, save yourself, shut up and don't even dare to open your mouth for your own sake! Because whatever vocalization we do and how long we do it, it won't matter. We'll eventually end up sounding like a squeaking Helen - smothered, drowned, beaten and eaten slowly while still alive by a not-so-viscous T-Rex. TRIED AND TESTED.
And if still after all the precaution, some idiot tries to make you sing, make a stupid excuse that you didn't get much sleep so you couldn't give your 100% flawless performance!Or better yet, hang yourself from the nearest mango tree!
Growing up I have waited for my bright star to shine on me and for my audience to worship me and my singing prowess. Heartbreaking as it is, it would never happen. The only place I can sing with a full blast, shameless performance is when I am in the bathroom taking my not-so-cold shower, and that's about it. Nothing more, nothing less. For somebody who loves and appreciates music so much, this is the worst and dreadful curse. Music isn't as grateful to me as I am to IT, which is the fruition of a gratitude-less act.
So as a result, whenever there are videoke sessions whether it'd be in Greenbelt's Redbox or Q Power Station's ten-peso per song (nine-peso per song for VIP members, ahem!)or even at some relative's house, I would make it a point to avoid the oh-so-precious microphone to save myself and my undying reputation from eternal humiliation and mass hysteria.
So if events like this happen, and you my dear friend is in the club and is part of our unfortunate destiny, save yourself, shut up and don't even dare to open your mouth for your own sake! Because whatever vocalization we do and how long we do it, it won't matter. We'll eventually end up sounding like a squeaking Helen - smothered, drowned, beaten and eaten slowly while still alive by a not-so-viscous T-Rex. TRIED AND TESTED.
And if still after all the precaution, some idiot tries to make you sing, make a stupid excuse that you didn't get much sleep so you couldn't give your 100% flawless performance!Or better yet, hang yourself from the nearest mango tree!
Monday, December 06, 2004
Misery Calls...Nearly Getting There...
Just when you thought everything seemed to have been falling into place was the time that you realize that it was going otherwise - falling into pieces like uneven glass shards.
I have had my lows and believe me when i say I have had. These lows were not actually shallow-deep lows but rather lows ranging from the below sea level all the way down the ocean floors.
I am tired of getting to experience these things. At 21, I have been tested and still in the continuation of being tested by unforeseen natural force that sometimes I just think of giving up and letting myself drift away and just drown myself of misery and surrender.
The world seems to be against me that even the rarest and plainest things go with the unusual and unfortunate turn of events like my PC. I am alone, single and happy but lest the career, I could only handle so much. Just when I knew what I wanted to do that employers close their doors on me. They shut and lock those doors throwing their keys at the tiger den for safety. I have waited patiently for months, thought for months and hopeful during those times. Jobs that I wanted seemed to just be with the second hand of the clock coming in passing.
I have made too many bad decisions...Too many things in my to-do list and nothing seems to have been accomplished...Too many remorse and too many complaints that never seem to end...Too many expectations that are expected of me that I could not seem to meet...Too many dreams circumvented with webs and strands of disillusioned and cynical ways that seem to just be dreams unfulfilled...I am jaded, weary and fallen out of logical judgment...I am plucked from optimism, clouded with sorrows and in the brink of my breaking point...my threshold...
When will this end?When will I see the rainbow after that storm?When will I be me again, strong and flamboyant, optimistic and hopeful and a cheerful Satyr again?
I have had my lows and believe me when i say I have had. These lows were not actually shallow-deep lows but rather lows ranging from the below sea level all the way down the ocean floors.
I am tired of getting to experience these things. At 21, I have been tested and still in the continuation of being tested by unforeseen natural force that sometimes I just think of giving up and letting myself drift away and just drown myself of misery and surrender.
The world seems to be against me that even the rarest and plainest things go with the unusual and unfortunate turn of events like my PC. I am alone, single and happy but lest the career, I could only handle so much. Just when I knew what I wanted to do that employers close their doors on me. They shut and lock those doors throwing their keys at the tiger den for safety. I have waited patiently for months, thought for months and hopeful during those times. Jobs that I wanted seemed to just be with the second hand of the clock coming in passing.
I have made too many bad decisions...Too many things in my to-do list and nothing seems to have been accomplished...Too many remorse and too many complaints that never seem to end...Too many expectations that are expected of me that I could not seem to meet...Too many dreams circumvented with webs and strands of disillusioned and cynical ways that seem to just be dreams unfulfilled...I am jaded, weary and fallen out of logical judgment...I am plucked from optimism, clouded with sorrows and in the brink of my breaking point...my threshold...
When will this end?When will I see the rainbow after that storm?When will I be me again, strong and flamboyant, optimistic and hopeful and a cheerful Satyr again?
Sunday, December 05, 2004
People yucking...Yucking people...
Upon watching Bridget Jones Diary 2: The Edge of Reason, it caught me thinking...Do people really accept or welcome the idea of lesbian or gay kissing without the yucks, the ews the 'kadiris' and other eerie disgusts or contempt?Are people ready for this bold move (it isn't actually bold at all) and revolution in Philippine cinema?
There was this scene where there were two girls kissing (not french kissing) and one was actually lesbian and people started wooing and yucking and stuff so profusely it outshone the movie the moment they saw the scene. That was their initial reaction and it ruined my mood to tell you the truth. But since I was all-for-the-gold for the movie, I eventually resumed my interest in it lest the energy I once had from the start and during the course of the movie.
The movie ended like the usual feel-good movie and it did satisfy my apetite for that romantic comedy genre. But still, what got me thinking was that three-second incident that made the crowd frenetic from silent. Were those wooing and yucking a form of shock or just mere expressions of such actions that were considered "abnormal"? (like they know what normal really means!)And get this, these expressions were the exact same replica and were absolutely true in a few gay (same-sex) scenes and shots in the movie Alexander. Bluntly enough, THAT was the expression.
In reality, majority of the people accept the minority of gays and lesbians and also the rising of bisexuals. That was the predicament, that IS the predicament. Straight people find awkwardness in acts and manifestations of 'un-straight lifestyle' where they should be not. It is a different lifestyle, and yes, it is unconventional. But please, what was manifested in the two films aforementioned were just kissing for crying out loud. And people took those actions in total condemnation (or maybe I am just over-reacting). Maybe I was just making matters worse but majority of straight people should widen their perspective and start to at least be reasonable and just and equal.
Two guys or two gals kissing is the same as two heterosexuals doing it. It is a preference just like some wanting a Fuji Apple and others wanting a California apple.
Get over it and if you wooed and yucked over that three-second kissing scene, start yucking yourself and grow up. If you are part of the few understanding, well-mannered and well-educated ones - you deserve a kudos!
There was this scene where there were two girls kissing (not french kissing) and one was actually lesbian and people started wooing and yucking and stuff so profusely it outshone the movie the moment they saw the scene. That was their initial reaction and it ruined my mood to tell you the truth. But since I was all-for-the-gold for the movie, I eventually resumed my interest in it lest the energy I once had from the start and during the course of the movie.
The movie ended like the usual feel-good movie and it did satisfy my apetite for that romantic comedy genre. But still, what got me thinking was that three-second incident that made the crowd frenetic from silent. Were those wooing and yucking a form of shock or just mere expressions of such actions that were considered "abnormal"? (like they know what normal really means!)And get this, these expressions were the exact same replica and were absolutely true in a few gay (same-sex) scenes and shots in the movie Alexander. Bluntly enough, THAT was the expression.
In reality, majority of the people accept the minority of gays and lesbians and also the rising of bisexuals. That was the predicament, that IS the predicament. Straight people find awkwardness in acts and manifestations of 'un-straight lifestyle' where they should be not. It is a different lifestyle, and yes, it is unconventional. But please, what was manifested in the two films aforementioned were just kissing for crying out loud. And people took those actions in total condemnation (or maybe I am just over-reacting). Maybe I was just making matters worse but majority of straight people should widen their perspective and start to at least be reasonable and just and equal.
Two guys or two gals kissing is the same as two heterosexuals doing it. It is a preference just like some wanting a Fuji Apple and others wanting a California apple.
Get over it and if you wooed and yucked over that three-second kissing scene, start yucking yourself and grow up. If you are part of the few understanding, well-mannered and well-educated ones - you deserve a kudos!
Bridget Jones Diary = Sponge Bob Square Pants
Saturday was the day I watched this latest Renee Zellwegger (not sure if her name has a single 'g' or two "g's") flick, Bridget Jones Diary 2, The Edge of Reason...and it turned out to be worth my while since I enjoyed watching it. But not really, LOVING it, if you know what I mean.
So, since not everyone had watched it yet, I would spare my life of being hated and being disgusted and will not spoil the 'supposed-fun' you would have in watching this movie and NOT embed the whole story in this blog of mine (just the juicy scenes perhaps).
Like the typical hollywood sequel, there will always be familiar scenes that viewers could relate to from the previous movie so as not to alienate us, viewers, from the plot of this fresh product. But one thing was very noticeable - the unfamiliar (ok, maybe familiar but not very comprehensive) British accent kind of bugged me a little because the characters struck me as babies babbling for food and needing for something in certain parts of the movie. I was kind of left behind in some parts and couldn't lip-read what they were trying to utter (NOW this is british!). My Gawd...they ol-most gave me a fright! (still british).
But all in all assessment, the movie was enlightening and was perfect for hopeless romantic fellows who just won't surrender and won't give up in trying to find THAT one true love. This is also recommended for those who just want to palliate their sorrows and misdemeanors with humor of a size-12 Renee Zellweger. This movie would for sure boost your morale, keep you grounded, sane and inspired for this almost-two-hour-movie. The Thailand shots also made me appreciate this movie more and also appreciate and keep my eyes open that there were (and still are) people whose problems were (are) even worse than me.
So if you people are in your lowest of lows and in mass sorrow, try picturing out Thai Correctional State Prison and sing Like a Virgin, Thai Style!
And to people who want a one great shag, try wearing an extra-large grandma's panties, it sure worked for Bridget Jones!
So, since not everyone had watched it yet, I would spare my life of being hated and being disgusted and will not spoil the 'supposed-fun' you would have in watching this movie and NOT embed the whole story in this blog of mine (just the juicy scenes perhaps).
Like the typical hollywood sequel, there will always be familiar scenes that viewers could relate to from the previous movie so as not to alienate us, viewers, from the plot of this fresh product. But one thing was very noticeable - the unfamiliar (ok, maybe familiar but not very comprehensive) British accent kind of bugged me a little because the characters struck me as babies babbling for food and needing for something in certain parts of the movie. I was kind of left behind in some parts and couldn't lip-read what they were trying to utter (NOW this is british!). My Gawd...they ol-most gave me a fright! (still british).
But all in all assessment, the movie was enlightening and was perfect for hopeless romantic fellows who just won't surrender and won't give up in trying to find THAT one true love. This is also recommended for those who just want to palliate their sorrows and misdemeanors with humor of a size-12 Renee Zellweger. This movie would for sure boost your morale, keep you grounded, sane and inspired for this almost-two-hour-movie. The Thailand shots also made me appreciate this movie more and also appreciate and keep my eyes open that there were (and still are) people whose problems were (are) even worse than me.
So if you people are in your lowest of lows and in mass sorrow, try picturing out Thai Correctional State Prison and sing Like a Virgin, Thai Style!
And to people who want a one great shag, try wearing an extra-large grandma's panties, it sure worked for Bridget Jones!
Saturday, December 04, 2004
Drunken Shrimps + Rumormongering = a DOSE of Strengthened Friendship
SCENARIO
Right after the storm and everything seemed to have been bright, breezy and okay, I decided to expand, explore and oh, well, save my soon to ail social life.
I decided to go out there, spread my wings and POSSIBLY meet people but not necessarily of the same wavelength since it was so darn hard to find this kind these days (Einstein, Aristotle, etcetera, where art thou?).
7PM, OUR SET TIME
Anyways, off with my story. It was 7PM and it was all set. ME and my bestfriends had gone off to Greenbelt for the last time as the CHARMED ONES (Power of Three, remember?).
[JIST : One of my bestfriends would be relocated to Cebu and it would take a while for our bond to be reconstituted, I mean physically.]
As Filipinos who do not (DO NOT, I mean)give high regard on time (because we view time otherwise) as usual, we weren't there 7PM sharp. We met an hour after that.
And so, we met, made our hugs, said our excuses for not being on time (though we kind of expected that from one another) and off we went to Greenbelt from Glorietta thinking along the way what we should be having for dinner since we all three were starving, dead starving...
DINNER OPTIONS, CAN WE HAVE A ROULETTE PLEASE and SPARE US THE HARD PART?
After a long fifteen minute stride from Glorietta to the stretched pavement of Greenbelt 3 and after strenuous consideration with the menu (to satisfy our oh so distinct tastebuds), ambience (we wanted to have the best out our money so we might as well use the place for our conversation-rendez-vous before we get to see Bridget Jones Diary 2) and our finances (money is hard to earn these days, so we better had to be wise spenders which I am good by the way), we decided to go to this place called MASA or MASAS I think. The ambience was nice...and so we assumed that ambience + reasonable prices = luscious and mouth-watering food courses (details will follow later). So MASA it was.
FOOD CRITICISM. This better be good, better be good...or else...
It took a while before we got to settle with our choices. We got confused with nilasing na hipon (my translation, drunken shrimps with puke) and sinigang na ulang (OUR translation, native shrimps drowning) but ended up taking the former together with Bicol Express (translation, 5-sliced-pork with beans in clutter) and crispy pata (translation, crunchy chicken leg [SIZE, hello!]). Pretty delicious and interesting huh?Well that was when you picture them all in your head. When it (the whole ensemble) got to us and was dined, served and eaten, it was pure disappointment with resentment on the side. We loved their refillable lemonade though. 80 bucks and refillable, God, they had messed with the wrong person!
FOOD CRITICISM (checked on my to-do list). RUMORMONGERING (RM 101, 102, 103, 104 and so on...) on the other hand, Hmmmmn...
While having our late dinner with that ethereal ambience (not even close, but'll do for that night rather than the sweat-induced-air outside) over that overly mundane ordered courses, we found refuge and comfort talking about people we had doubt with and simply not feel like going with and jiving with. Starting from somebody and eventually ending up with another person, somehow, it made our food more palatable than they were. A little of tingy experience of that person transformed that crispy pata from blunt to spicy and same happened to the other courses on our table - transforming our dinner to somewhat like a feast only meant for gods and goddesses in Greek Myths in a place called Mount Olympus, in this case Masa was THAT place. Nilasing na hipon (my translation, drunken shrimps with puke) was our ambrosia, our most loved appetizer (and main course!) for that night.
I never ever thought that rumormongering was that empowering. It brought wonders. I know it was wrong to talk about people's demeanors behind their backs, but hey, that was why it was labelled as a form of a guilty pleasure. And besides, it was not entirely rumormongering, it just sounded so flashy and so intellectual (hahaha!) when in fact we were doing an intricate analysis of gestures overlapped with grave emotional origin. (whew, that was hell of an excuse!)
BIG EMERGENCY
So after that mind blowing entertainment which we ourselves made out of some sick but fulfilling issues of ourselves and people that revolved around us, we decided to dethrone ourselves and leave Mount Olympus for a stupid and red-alert emergency and decided to get our butts working and made our feet walking to end up looking for some girl stuff (you know what i mean). This happened 20 minutes before the actual showing of the infamous Bridget Jones Diary 2. Take note that the movie was at 12 midnight.
Going on, looking still for that red-alert solution after paving those stretched roads, we saw and found ourselves under the saving glory of Mercury Drug. Finally getting a solution and some add-ons - pistachio nuts for later. So at 11:50 PM, we got back and were in the movie house.
BRIDGET JONES DIARY 2: THE EDGE OF REASON
This would have to be im my next blog!Promise, I will write about it.
AFTER MOVIE COMMOTION - Coffee Break + NUTS = handful of RUMORMONGERING (still in my to-do list, for the second time)
Gone are the entertaining hours with Bridger Jones and company. And so, we started to work and do the activity on what was written on our itinerary - coffee with some cakes and pistachio nuts we got from Mercury drug. It was around 2AM and people were still taking that after midnight fad, which was that coffee something.
We joined the coven. We were part of the fad that night. And coffee drinking became our money-leech, draining almost single penny and savings we got. It took us hours talking and observing people around us. There were drunken shrimps with puke or (puking) personified and 'let-me-go-im-not-drunk-acts' all morning and not to mention the 'havana trade' going on among foreigners and Filipino women taking advantage over these lust-induced men. Believe me when I say that it was truly a pretty interesting site to watch. I am not being judgmental, just laying down the facts of what this pair of keen eyes of mine recorded.
Getting tired (but not exhausted) from all these jam-packed commotion of our almost 14-hour-Greenbelt-excapade-lambasting-gimmick, we decided to raise our white flags, get home, kiss our parents good morning and get on the bed with our eye-bags tolling at us but with smiles antagonizing the pimples we got from that nasty surveillance.
Right after the storm and everything seemed to have been bright, breezy and okay, I decided to expand, explore and oh, well, save my soon to ail social life.
I decided to go out there, spread my wings and POSSIBLY meet people but not necessarily of the same wavelength since it was so darn hard to find this kind these days (Einstein, Aristotle, etcetera, where art thou?).
7PM, OUR SET TIME
Anyways, off with my story. It was 7PM and it was all set. ME and my bestfriends had gone off to Greenbelt for the last time as the CHARMED ONES (Power of Three, remember?).
[JIST : One of my bestfriends would be relocated to Cebu and it would take a while for our bond to be reconstituted, I mean physically.]
As Filipinos who do not (DO NOT, I mean)give high regard on time (because we view time otherwise) as usual, we weren't there 7PM sharp. We met an hour after that.
And so, we met, made our hugs, said our excuses for not being on time (though we kind of expected that from one another) and off we went to Greenbelt from Glorietta thinking along the way what we should be having for dinner since we all three were starving, dead starving...
DINNER OPTIONS, CAN WE HAVE A ROULETTE PLEASE and SPARE US THE HARD PART?
After a long fifteen minute stride from Glorietta to the stretched pavement of Greenbelt 3 and after strenuous consideration with the menu (to satisfy our oh so distinct tastebuds), ambience (we wanted to have the best out our money so we might as well use the place for our conversation-rendez-vous before we get to see Bridget Jones Diary 2) and our finances (money is hard to earn these days, so we better had to be wise spenders which I am good by the way), we decided to go to this place called MASA or MASAS I think. The ambience was nice...and so we assumed that ambience + reasonable prices = luscious and mouth-watering food courses (details will follow later). So MASA it was.
FOOD CRITICISM. This better be good, better be good...or else...
It took a while before we got to settle with our choices. We got confused with nilasing na hipon (my translation, drunken shrimps with puke) and sinigang na ulang (OUR translation, native shrimps drowning) but ended up taking the former together with Bicol Express (translation, 5-sliced-pork with beans in clutter) and crispy pata (translation, crunchy chicken leg [SIZE, hello!]). Pretty delicious and interesting huh?Well that was when you picture them all in your head. When it (the whole ensemble) got to us and was dined, served and eaten, it was pure disappointment with resentment on the side. We loved their refillable lemonade though. 80 bucks and refillable, God, they had messed with the wrong person!
FOOD CRITICISM (checked on my to-do list). RUMORMONGERING (RM 101, 102, 103, 104 and so on...) on the other hand, Hmmmmn...
While having our late dinner with that ethereal ambience (not even close, but'll do for that night rather than the sweat-induced-air outside) over that overly mundane ordered courses, we found refuge and comfort talking about people we had doubt with and simply not feel like going with and jiving with. Starting from somebody and eventually ending up with another person, somehow, it made our food more palatable than they were. A little of tingy experience of that person transformed that crispy pata from blunt to spicy and same happened to the other courses on our table - transforming our dinner to somewhat like a feast only meant for gods and goddesses in Greek Myths in a place called Mount Olympus, in this case Masa was THAT place. Nilasing na hipon (my translation, drunken shrimps with puke) was our ambrosia, our most loved appetizer (and main course!) for that night.
I never ever thought that rumormongering was that empowering. It brought wonders. I know it was wrong to talk about people's demeanors behind their backs, but hey, that was why it was labelled as a form of a guilty pleasure. And besides, it was not entirely rumormongering, it just sounded so flashy and so intellectual (hahaha!) when in fact we were doing an intricate analysis of gestures overlapped with grave emotional origin. (whew, that was hell of an excuse!)
BIG EMERGENCY
So after that mind blowing entertainment which we ourselves made out of some sick but fulfilling issues of ourselves and people that revolved around us, we decided to dethrone ourselves and leave Mount Olympus for a stupid and red-alert emergency and decided to get our butts working and made our feet walking to end up looking for some girl stuff (you know what i mean). This happened 20 minutes before the actual showing of the infamous Bridget Jones Diary 2. Take note that the movie was at 12 midnight.
Going on, looking still for that red-alert solution after paving those stretched roads, we saw and found ourselves under the saving glory of Mercury Drug. Finally getting a solution and some add-ons - pistachio nuts for later. So at 11:50 PM, we got back and were in the movie house.
BRIDGET JONES DIARY 2: THE EDGE OF REASON
This would have to be im my next blog!Promise, I will write about it.
AFTER MOVIE COMMOTION - Coffee Break + NUTS = handful of RUMORMONGERING (still in my to-do list, for the second time)
Gone are the entertaining hours with Bridger Jones and company. And so, we started to work and do the activity on what was written on our itinerary - coffee with some cakes and pistachio nuts we got from Mercury drug. It was around 2AM and people were still taking that after midnight fad, which was that coffee something.
We joined the coven. We were part of the fad that night. And coffee drinking became our money-leech, draining almost single penny and savings we got. It took us hours talking and observing people around us. There were drunken shrimps with puke or (puking) personified and 'let-me-go-im-not-drunk-acts' all morning and not to mention the 'havana trade' going on among foreigners and Filipino women taking advantage over these lust-induced men. Believe me when I say that it was truly a pretty interesting site to watch. I am not being judgmental, just laying down the facts of what this pair of keen eyes of mine recorded.
Getting tired (but not exhausted) from all these jam-packed commotion of our almost 14-hour-Greenbelt-excapade-lambasting-gimmick, we decided to raise our white flags, get home, kiss our parents good morning and get on the bed with our eye-bags tolling at us but with smiles antagonizing the pimples we got from that nasty surveillance.
Friday, December 03, 2004
BLOG 101 P. S.
P.S.
After going back to my home page, it turned out that it was not a screw-like icon that i should be befriending. It should be the plus (+) icon instead.
Stupid...Stupid...Stupid...But still happy...
So much for BLOG 101!!!
After going back to my home page, it turned out that it was not a screw-like icon that i should be befriending. It should be the plus (+) icon instead.
Stupid...Stupid...Stupid...But still happy...
So much for BLOG 101!!!
BLOG 101 - Clicking the Right Buttons
I was actually going to write something interesting but upon doing so, this "not-so-technical-unfriendly-blogspot" exhausted all my energy figuring out how to post a new blog! And after exhaustion and fifteen minutes of trial and error of clicking buttons and going back and forth, it turned out that my little friendly "screw-like (or a real tiny screw, is it?)" button was the chosen one. And it took me THAT LONG to figure it out!!! Me and my stupid disgust to little things! (Being sarcastic here!) MY GOD!
As with any new thing or new technology or new whatever, there's this always our firsts which by the way makes life more colorful and interesting. All those things make the best out of everything and anything - thus making pretenders lose their, well, limited brain resources.
People make fun of themselves every now and then with our first experiences. I can't even imagine life without them! Our firsts makes temporary resentment bearable and funny at the same time, instills the words frenzy and berserk in everyone, exudes the funny, idiot and stupid side of us.
And so finally, I end up babbling over this funny yet learning experience of mine over this blog posting...Happy of what I had accomplished this morning.
And that is posting a new blog...The next time you'll see a post, it will not be over this BLOG 101. :)
As with any new thing or new technology or new whatever, there's this always our firsts which by the way makes life more colorful and interesting. All those things make the best out of everything and anything - thus making pretenders lose their, well, limited brain resources.
People make fun of themselves every now and then with our first experiences. I can't even imagine life without them! Our firsts makes temporary resentment bearable and funny at the same time, instills the words frenzy and berserk in everyone, exudes the funny, idiot and stupid side of us.
And so finally, I end up babbling over this funny yet learning experience of mine over this blog posting...Happy of what I had accomplished this morning.
And that is posting a new blog...The next time you'll see a post, it will not be over this BLOG 101. :)
Thursday, December 02, 2004
Will killing do any good?
What keeps this world mushy-free and cheesy-free is way of killing those who do such treason to singlehood!!!Messages of sorts from simple blah..blah... to complex bbbbbbbbbbllllllllllllllaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhs are so sickening they make my stomach ride on a 360 degree roller coaster loop...What's up with these mushiness?
Can just somebody love less these stupid and such actions? Mean being single is fun but i don't blame people getting through that honeymoon stage of life (but hey, i look forward to the violent, masochistic and sadistic SMS messages of the couple when that end nears!!!) as a couple. Savoring such moments and oh so poofed up after that love has gone is another thing, too...
Is mushiness part of being falling in love?if it does, can comebody kill me and just spare the world with another adrifted soul...
In this case, will killing do any good?
Definitely...definitely...definitely... Hoping that it will be legalized too in this most stupid and mundane gestures...
Can just somebody love less these stupid and such actions? Mean being single is fun but i don't blame people getting through that honeymoon stage of life (but hey, i look forward to the violent, masochistic and sadistic SMS messages of the couple when that end nears!!!) as a couple. Savoring such moments and oh so poofed up after that love has gone is another thing, too...
Is mushiness part of being falling in love?if it does, can comebody kill me and just spare the world with another adrifted soul...
In this case, will killing do any good?
Definitely...definitely...definitely... Hoping that it will be legalized too in this most stupid and mundane gestures...
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