Is anyone out there???

Pasumbag ka?

2008-03-28T21:36:00.003+08:00

In the couple of days I spent with my lolo, who, by the way has slowly slipped into the grips of senility, I have relearned the meanings of several Visayan phrases.

1. "Kinsa man ni?"
Who is this?

My lolo uses this sentence like a paragraph break into a looping series of statements

He consequently remarks on changes from since he last remembers me. This depends entirely on what he chooses to remember.

"Oh you've grown, you used to be so small."

"Do you box?"

"You used to be so handsome, now you look chinese."

"You're wearing a shirt that says vacancy, you must still be single."

"Are you Susan's son? Are you my grandson? Wow, you're here."

All of these in Binisaya, looping back into, "Kinsa man ni?"

To which I reply, "Si Christian po," "Christian," or "your grandson."

2. "Sumbagon ta ka!"
As far as requests go, this is always his alternative condition.

Jokingly, my mother responded by picking up a handy badminton racket and she raised it. Lolo leaned away and said "Sakit na!" "That's gonna hurt!" As he giggled a bit.

"Don't drive too fast or I'll punch you!"

"If I fall into the water, I'll punch you!"

"If that ladder falls on me, I'll punch you!"

"Scratch my BACK!!! I'll punch you!"

This is a conversation he had with the boatman helping him up to the boat:

(My grandfather can barely walk)

"Don't let me fall, or I'll punch you!"

"I won't let you fall. Besides, you won't hit. This is Pacquiao you're dealing with."

"I'll bet you 20 pesos I can hit you. And your head will fly off when I do!"

3. "Hoy! BAYOT!"
"Hey! FAGOT!"

I have nothing against gay men. I have a fair share of gay friends. That I disapprove of them, playing hide the sausage, by the back door, doesn't mean that I can't be civil and respectful toward them.

I really don't put this behavior past him. He used to swear at me when I was nine.

Lolo's pretty senile so most of his requests are pretty much insane, if not simply difficult or summarily gross. So people who take care of him, take care to ignore him a lot as well.

This is his his way of attracting attention.

4. "Pasumbag ka?"
"You wanna be punched?"

This is lolo's special way of saying thank you. You'll hear this often, while walking away after doing something for him. This usually means you weren't in enough of a hurry, doing what he wanted.

5. "Unsa man imong daa? Pagkaon man na? Saa man aho?"
"What are you carrying? Is that food? Where's mine?"

Said in rapid succession, these constitute my grandfather's special way of saying hello. It's good to see his mind is still pointing in the right direction.

He has trouble stopping, if he does get started eating. When I sneak a nibble, I have to be discreet. I've been asked to turn around and face the other way while eating on occassion. Once, I was even asked to leave the room.

6. "Take care and God bless."
This is what he said when we left. These words hold special meaning to me.

From my mother's sentiments, I feel we might not see him again. My childhood experiences of my grandfather's harsh, swearing, and striking (he literally would strike people and things) character, have since been reconciled.

I will miss him.

Coming to Terms

2008-03-19T08:54:00.002+08:00

Time is perceived differently by differing organisms. On the basis of life span, metabolic activity, and even mode of nutrition. For a tree that lives hundreds of years, a full year of bad storms would have just been a bad week, where as an organism of a day long lifespan, like a mayfly, born into that same period would probably spend most of his life wishing it'd never been born. A desert tortoise would be more inclined to ignore the dance of a butterfly, but the tortoise, for the time being, will carry, for the butterfly, an attractive pool of mineral salts in its eyes in the same general vicinity for quite some time. If it needs to, the butterfly might take the time to grab a drink from the tortoise's eyes, the living rock will scarcely mind. In the end, life would go by quicker if nine out of ten of your hunts got you nothing, and, when you do manage to make your meal, you sleep the work off. That's just the tale of the tape for most hunters. Compared to the pace of browsers or grazers, who spend most of their day with their faces in the salad greens of the plains and brush, a hunter's life is short, and quick.

Humans are unique in that within the species, based on age, gender and responsibility, people still have starkly differing perceptions of time and space. I really don't want to elaborate.

I believe in companionship and concern. When you spend long enough with one person, you develop the concern and understanding necessary to sustain a healthy relationship. When there is no common perception of time, it'll be difficult to establish what is expected of you and what you expect. This is where the illusion of an age gap comes in. Maybe when it hurts less, I'll explain.

Mildly Upset with Scattered Rain Showers

2008-03-18T07:20:00.006+08:00

Rejection has effectively stopped looming, and has finally hit the stores. I know I'm supposed to be reeling. I am. Apart from that, there are a few forced stark realizations that I need to eventually come to terms with.

Bad days have that tendency of bringing to surface larger problems. It really isn't fair that bad days are the handiwork of a ravenous pack of problems, while good days are made by highlights. There's something skewed about human perception right there. I suppose if I waited for that benevolent band of a pleasant series of events, I might never have had a good day. The thing is, I haven't had a good day, where I didn't need to disregard a massive disappointment to enjoy it.

While I tried to resolve as much unfinished business in my head, I went over several things that I might never find out.

- what the hell went wrong?
- what was she expecting?
- was there anything I could have done?
- do I have time for this?
- does she have time for this?

It's like picking at an new wound. Mandate of maleness says I choke back all emotion until I explode. No harm done there.

Couple of easy questions that'll never see the light of day.

On a more irritating note, in an effort to console myself, I bought a new pair of Altec Lansing headphones. After negotiating the uncooperative packaging like a madman (with tooth and nail-cutter), i found that the right ear didn't work. Following these mild frustrations, would be a slew of obscenities, that if they were censored, would sound like a space battle from Star Wars. I wanted to go for a jog this morning, with a renewed void in my chest and a new pair of headphones. But no. So I realize, the powers that be would have it no other way.

It's good to know I can still hurt like this. It's not something that I wanted to experience again soon. But hell, it's there and I'm curious, how much more will it hurt before I find someone to love again.

"It's the little things that seem to be saving me today" - Mindy Smith, Down In Flames

Counting Days (March 11-12am, 2007)

2008-03-11T23:33:00.004+08:00

This is the first time I thought to write about it. "Why not?" sounded like a good enough reason. Then there was "how else?" So there.

What about my day is worth recounting? That's something else. Most of it was a bore.

I asked to count days with someone. Today, despite the immense effort with which I try to keep thoughts of her at bay, I thought about her a lot. I can't imagine where these thoughts come from, seeing as we've only met personally for five minutes. Most of it is wondering.

I write now, and I'll probably write everyday, from now to the end of March, with her in mind.

Apart from all that, I felt something again. And I spent a bit of the evening thinking about the physiological symptoms of loneliness. Akin to the feelings of regret, there is that weight in my chest. Maybe around that time, I might have missed substantial company — or maybe just company pertinent to my mood, or need, or sentiment.

There is that weight and there is a difficulty breathing. I don't think it was literal. It seemed illusory, nothing like respiratory stress. It was more like a tingling lack of will to drink in my atmosphere.

The only reason why I qualify it as loneliness, is because I couldn't understand why I felt it. There was no reason I could think of. Nothing I was currently considering could muster unbidden sadness like that. So I blame an absence. Of what? I don't know. Company? Loneliness then, but I really can't place my finger on it.

Right now, I'm wondering what teachers have left to do, after exam time; after checking the papers and giving grades. I'm wondering how she grades compositions. I'm wondering if she has an HR. I'm wondering what makes or breaks her day. I'm wondering how deeply she will ever miss her fondest students. I suppose that's a lot to wonder about. There's more. But, sincerely, I'm just interested.

--

This being the first day I'm counting, I'd like to write retroactively. I feel a bit guilt browsing her pictures. Seeing her picture reminded me, how I was mildly upset that she had her hair ironed 'straight' for iCatching. If there's anything rare and wonderful, it's a lady who can carry curly hair well. I wish I'd seen that personally.

I'll probably write retroactively for a while. Hopefully, I can work up enough courage to tell her about this blog.

:D

3:00

2008-02-28T02:54:00.003+08:00

The sky is red. An hour ago — two, it was red. It never gets dark anymore. Just red. Deep like an aging scab on something dead. It's red like a rose trying to be black.

The herald of the morning is early.

The herald of the mourning is early.

A bit of FOCUS

2008-02-27T09:18:00.004+08:00

I woke up this morning and after a trying series of events, a few words from yesterday's post-race lectures rang in my head. YOU HAVE TO DRIVE AHEAD OF THE CAR.

A book I read said exactly the same thing, with a significant difference in words and context. SUCCESS IS ANTICIPATING CHANGE. The fact remains, when things get hairy, it's always better to know beforehand. Once it does, you don't want to be following every lead, trying to do everything. You want to know the single most effective path, the exact sequence of events you need to set into motion to get you out of the fire.

These past few months I've found myself chasing after everything and reacting to everything. Maybe not just these few months. I might have been doing it all my life. As far as I'm concerned, up until now, it's been working out for me. Fast hands, fast eyes, the works. Never the best, but always impressive, and always a spectacle.

Last night, I drove aggressively, braking and accelerating abruptly. I drove the way I always do. I drove the way I've always lived.Taking inches.

The track was slick from the rain, and I felt helpless. I spent most of my time with my hands raised. It's a signal to track hands that I've spun off beyond correcting my course. I was spinning off at every sharp corner, frustrated at my inability to react. I was doing it wrong. I wasn't supposed to react. I was supposed to drive ahead of the car.

I was supposed to counter steer, so I would balance out after the slide that would happen a split second later. I was supposed to caress the break, and take my weight to the front of the car, to control my drift. I was taking inches when I was supposed to be taking meters, and miles.

It's about time I drove ahead of the car. The last few paces of chasing around end today.

Tomorrow, I have an exam. Networking. I'm gonna study, and while I'm sure I can get by just remembering bits of the lecture, like I've always done, I'm going to start anticipating.

Friday is a night out with a girl I met last Friday. Five minutes. I hope to turn those five minutes into something longer and more meaningful. I have a sneaky feeling she's something special (wishful thinking).

Saturday is when I when I interact with the more modern concepts of leadership. They know I have it in me. The president of P&G Philippines knows I have it in me. It's about time I found out myself. It's about time I led myself.

All the while, I will be continuing my implementation of the LAN to Bluetooth Streaming and working out the implications of Rizal's life course as a role model to OFW's (or maybe just a proposal for a Philippine History Wiki).

Same as racing, you can only anticipate the next turn, or the next few obstacles.

Putting Yourself OUT THERE

2008-02-27T01:45:00.002+08:00

It's tough. Wearing your heart on your sleeve is one thing. Hoping against all odds that someone decides to take it, is another.

Meeting women is fine and dandy. Conversation is always great. Moving from hi-hello to you look great is a careful sprint between moments that might or might not mean anything. Right now, I'm taking that sprint.

Five minutes say I'd like to see you again. I'd like hear your voice again. Mostly, I'd like to get to know you. Speed dating is iffy that way. But five minutes is enough time for you to get in, smile, and get out, before you get in your own way.

I sincerely hope I didn't mess anything up at this point. I'm going out with someone I met, last Friday, on Friday. That's a full week after five minutes. I wasn't able to reply to one of her messages. I was carting. Hopefully, she fell asleep on me. And I dearly hope she's not pissed.

I'm paranoid about this sort of thing because I've been in a relationship before. Women have the largest tendency to be pissed about nothing. This usually happens in one of two situations, (a) when she's comfortable enough to be pissed around you, hence the freedom to get pissed at you and (2) when she needs an excuse to purge you from her life. I've encountered both situations well enough to know that this sort of thing strikes like lightning on a sunny day.

Right now, I really don't care about the consequences. I desperately need somebody to care about, it doesn't matter if I end up on the wrong side of the frying pan. Right now, I'm writing, the way someone else would pray. I'm hoping to high heavens that this works out. I'm begging, to nowhere in particular, for the composure to make this happen, and the sense not to overdo it.

Earlier this late evening, a friend described happiness. He said it was like peeing in your pants. Everybody can see it, but only you can feel the warmth. It's true. Happiness can be pretty embarrassing. But I sincerely hope to be able to put that smile on somebody's face and bask in the spectacle of that someone unhindered amusement (I was going to say naked pleasure, but that message shoots too far off)

Really, those are the surprises I look for. Those little signs of happiness. Broadening smiles, eyes lighting up and the many other facets of female happiness. I'd like to see that. Especially those trademark tells, like crinkling noses and lip biting and toe curling and triumphant conservative fist shaking.

Ria is a pretty enough girl, 21, an English teacher at Xavier. her social life is 'blah' and she's looking to have fun. Her course was an unexpected roller coaster that shot her out and she's been shaping young minds since. Five minutes. I greeted her with this paraphrasing: "You don't look like someone who needs to go to these sorts of things." She wore a purple top and jeans. She has beautiful eyes and lips.

My name is Chris, and...

Angel's Breadth

2008-02-23T17:54:00.001+08:00

There are no angels.

Just pretty faces and chime tune voices.

There are whispers - theirs, but they don't know. Like the warmth they shed, that they don't feel. Like the promises they make, that they never really made. With smiles, they speak of paradise. With each breath they promise bliss.

When their soft lips open, there is only what you want to hear. When their eyes smile, golden, there is only what you want to see. No, not girls, not women, but angels.

How do you suppose tears roll down the face of the sun. How do you suppose others see, when all that remains when tears become vapor, is the salt that might as well be sweat.

How do you suppose we listen, when their words are a song and the tune is merry. The truth of their sentiments drown. The pain in their hearts is lost. To us - lost.

Angels remain like salt remains, when the soul of the tear has departed. Why is it that, for the angel we long. Where does the soul's beauty make home?

I don't celebrate Christmas...

2007-12-25T22:38:00.000+08:00

... so have a merry life. Not too merry, so put that joint down.

I spent the night of the 25th with my family at Fridays. After a wonderful meal, I felt the need to fix my braces (I lost a bracket and have to tackle two loose ends of wire, so I have to fix it to keep them from impaling my inner cheeks).

When I went into the washroom, a kid was with his dad. His pants were down and he was drying... the front of his brief. I said absolutely nothing. I went about fixing my braces and they left.

This kid came in and gave me a mean stare, so I responded with an apologetic look, while still fixing my braces. He said "DIDGUSTING!" and left after washing his hands. I pitied him. I don't know why.

I have since thought of things to have said, esprit de l'escalier (spirit of the stairs in Fraunch, look it up):

5. You mean bastard! You're adopted!

4. If you carry on like that, you're gonna die old and friendless.

3. You must still have grandparents. (the mean kind)

2. Just wait 'til you find out you're gay.

1. You want to need braces? 'Cuz I can help you with that.

Looking back...

2007-12-21T01:01:00.000+08:00

College life was a slow walk. It was a scenic path, every bit deserving to be enjoyed. That anyone still looks to rush through it is lost on me.

It’s been five years since I first set foot in UP as a student himself. I've has since gotten softer –inside and out. Softened by the goodwill of his friends, the pressure I felt from those that weren’t and the long nights of stress eating in between, I have since become a smooth rock fit to glide and tumble to the river-deltas of adult life. Losing bits of myself never felt so liberating.

In college, I learned how to leave things behind by going places and making memories. That is all the past should be, beautiful or otherwise, just a precious memory left from something one deems too important to ever fully let go of.

And those that truly left their mark on me in the end, weren’t those with whom he shared words. In the end it was with whom I shared smiles, with whom I shared laughter and most importantly, with whom I shared sweet silence.

High School at Night...

2007-12-17T23:55:00.002+08:00

I remember the days when I used to get my buzz from coffee. It was one of those things I felt newly indoctrinated into then (I would, later in my life, find myself feeling the same things toward alcohol, my ill sentiment toward beer notwithstanding). Its effects were new and exhilirating, not to mention helpful, in the face of my immense academic load.

There was something else about this substance attracted me. It got the blood pumping. I noticed this after a hit of three cartons of RTD coffee (it was a tetrapacked ready to drink brew, new then). I had accidentally opened a wound in the shower. I didn't mind. It didn't hurt. And so I carried on with my business - until looked down, and saw that the whole area of the shower floor pooled bright red and spackled with clots.

I am a large person and I have since learned that I can afford to lose that much blood and more.

I suppose that scene sparked a taste for that sort of beauty, so that's why I started painting in blood. No Anacel, it wasn't a secret, and you really ought to have told everyone because they probably already knew. The secrets of why and what did they mean, you didn't seem so keen for then, and probably even less so now.

Suffice it to say they exist. And despite my vocal nature, I have very scary secrets. I only wish people expressed appropriate interest in them, so I could turn them down as they asked while feeling good about myself.

I miss coffee like I miss sleep and dreams. I miss dreams. Those I wake up from tired and gasping. But it's tough when you miss the city and the open ocean.

Booze is different from coffee, but everyone has their reasons and every story has its time. Just not today for beer

It sucks... I know

2007-12-13T00:27:00.000+08:00

I took three capsules of a large dose of Ibuprofen. I don't know what's gonna happen but my neck hurts like hell.

Home has come to be all the things in my life I've wanted to leave behind. Honest truth. There are definitely things that I would loathe to part with, but it would seem that my family life has it's bubble-gum-goo over everything. And not a single move in the general direction of out has left me at peace.

Suffice it to say: I'm not supposed to be the damned man of the house. What pisses me off is this simple truth:

The only one who notices a problem is the one best equipped to deal with it. Sometimes the only one.

My neck still hurts. Like hell now, so I'm gonna take three more

"and if I die before I wake..." -- Enter Sandman - Metallica

...my DS goes to my sister and all my cards go to Ernest. He can give some to joca and joel out of the kindness of his heart.

Wo Bist Du?

2007-10-02T23:16:00.000+08:00

(A Rough Translation)

I love you
I love you not
I love you no more
I love you no more or less than you
Than you loved me
When you still loved me

The pretty girls are not pretty
The warm hands are so cold
All clocks have stopped
It's no longer healthy to laugh, and soon

I'll look for you behind the light
Where are you
I don't want to be so alone
Where are you

The pretty girls are not pretty
The warm hands are so cold
All clocks have stopped
It's no longer healthy to laugh, and soon

I look for you behind the light
Where are you
I don't want to be so alone
Where are you
I look for you under every stone
Where are you
I fall asleep with a knife

Where are you

http://herzeleid.com/en/lyrics/rosenrot/wo_bist_du

Dream Chronicles # 2

2007-09-30T07:59:00.000+08:00

[Between the hours of 5 and 8]

I took my ex to somewhere my crush worked part time. This is a stupid thing to do, and I wonder myself, if it wasn't a mistake I made in the dream. There were more mistakes anyway.

I brought my ex flowers and she was with one of her male friends.

Midway into the meal she reaches for something across me, and I instinctively give her a peck on the ear. She drops the plate and makes a scene. I apologize and they leave.

I follow outside and he picks her up with a huge pick-up and they go to their place, which, incidentally, was next door. The way with dreams is when the journey matters, it happens far and fast or infinitely cyclic. But when the journey is as important as a single gentle and two-hundred and fifty pound human being to the rest of the world, the mind has the tendency of bridging those gaps.

In the dream, there are two parked vehicles I own. I think which to take home, the scooter or the car. I only have a scooter in that dream so I go for it. It's parked by the anonymous friend's mansion. As I walk up to it, he comes out asking to finish this. He pops me one in the face but, as expected, that did nothing, so I plant his face into the wall behind him with two fists and extreme prejudice.

So many things were wrong about that relationship, so it never took to water. Like so many things are wrong with people, so nobody's barely perfect. That doesn't mean I didn't love her with my entire being (and that's a lot of being). That doesn't mean that I don't still care. Like I said before, life is too long to spend with a jerk. If she ever ends up with an insecure jerk like that, I wouldn't mind doing her that last favor.

>to whom it may concern< >I love you and I wish you all the happiness in the world. Though I might not see your smile again, and I might never make you smile again, it helps to know you still do. And if thinking of me leaves your heart aching, then try not to think of me.<

It is done...

2007-09-29T19:00:00.000+08:00

That's it! I'm done being a byte. So far, it's been a blast. I've gotten to know some very interesting people. I've successfully welcomed them into cursor and I'm left hoping they all get inducted and graduate.

Kudos to my eldest, Dan, now the Externals VP for the organization! I hope you're energy lasts through the life of your very last grandchild.

To the twins, Joy and Danielle, I hope you get good jobs and marry well. Life is too long to spend it with a jerk. I also know how it feels to just want somebody. So Urge you both to know what you want. Either you end up not wanting it anymore, or it gets to know you and starts wanting you as well. If both should occur in one instance though, I can assure you, It'll suck a lot.

To whom I consider a middle child, Perl, it's computer science, copping off the net isn't cheating, as long as you cite. I hope everything works out for you as well. Same thing goes. Take care of your heart, and no man is worth dying for and as far as you are a student, failing for.

To the youngest, Anacel, don't let cursor eat you alive. It's a bunch of friends when you need one, and a much needed leg up once in a while. It's important to know that right now, you don't owe it anything, and that you owe much more to yourself and the people back home. Choose well and live a full life.

Next sem, I intend to be a good Membership Committee Member (that didn't sound right) worth his salt. I can and will refine each applicant in their goals, keeping CURSOR a fundamental part of their plans, while continuing to give preferential to people of our line, and Aleth's.

Ya'll keep safe now!

Braces; Day 1

2007-09-29T18:56:00.000+08:00

I can see why people go thin. I don't think it's the pain. I think eating just becomes such a chore. There's just so much trouble cleaning around them, and stuff gets stuck so easily. I'm looking forward to this experience. As far as I've gotten, I doesn't seem like it'll ever hurt. As for my fingers, they'll still be crossed

Na Naman

2007-09-26T00:36:00.000+08:00

[I'm studying for my exam in CS 131 tomorrow. Here's to hoping it all turns out well]

My only real fear is monotony. It feels good to come to terms with that. I'm afraid of doing the same thing over and over again because I know how safe monotony makes me feel.

Sometimes I have dreams where all I try to do is wake up. In these dreams, I feel my head just stuck to the pillow, my breath permanently suspended. For the next minute, all I can think about is putting my finger in my throat and open my airway so I can breath and get enough energy to pull myself off of my pillow and out of sleep. I end up actually waking up, then falling asleep again, and going the same dream all over again. After these dreams, I just wake up exhausted.

I suppose that's why death seems so appealing. Seeing as I don't believe in an afterlife, death spares me, with finality, my fear of monotony.

I have to concede that COLOR IT RED put it best. It loathes me to admit this song brings me to tears:

Na Naman

Pipigilan ko ang araw sa paglubog
Dahil ayaw ko pang matulog
Dahil sa umaga paggising
Alimusal ko ay tapsilog

Na nana naman
nana naman
nana naman

Pipigilan ko ang araw sa pagsikat
Dahil sa iskol walang freecut
Dahil sa teacher kong subrang kunat
Ang grade ko ay tinarat

Na nana naman
nana naman
nana naman

Pipigilan ko ang araw sa paglubog
Dahil ayaw ko pang matulog
Dahil sa umaga paggising
Alimusal ko ay tapsilog

Na nana naman
nana naman
nana naman

Na nana naman
nana naman
nana naman

Suicide; A Reason for Living (pt 1)

2007-09-16T23:08:00.000+08:00

When your ultimate goal in life is to die, the largest problem you encounter is that your goal gets in the way of everything in between. When procrastination is the only thing keeping you alive it's pretty hard to commit to the completion of anything.

I noticed this problem the first time I completed an RPG (Role Playing Game, easy enough). The first time I finished one, I felt devastated. I spent entire days leveling up and building my character, only to have the experience ended by some pansy final boss who just couldn't hang on a little longer. An entire lifetime had simply passed, and that made me sad. I suppose characters in games like those came close to real when you spent most of your time playing and the rest dreaming about playing. All in all, final victory meant an end – a death of sorts – beautiful in triumph all the while owing to be mourned.

Death didn't seem so bad after that. It seemed like the end of a game, I suppose. If you don't believe in an afterlife, then you simply don't expect to know who won. Reincarnation would turn life into another lousy MMO' (Massively Multiplayer Online Role Playing Game). The promise of any other afterlife would just have you waiting for the next level.

I have no intention of killing myself. If I could get there by any other means, I wouldn't complain. It's just that the tween matters less and less. There are things I want to do but the reasons just dissipate like whispers in fog. I want to have a meaningful relationship with someone outside of my family or immediate circle of friends. I want to be someone somebody else needs, to trust in and depend on. I want to see people smile because of me, not because of what I do but because of what I mean. The truth of the matter is, I want to explore love. But if I just want to die then why?

Head Count?

2007-09-09T00:53:00.001+08:00

... we're all still here. I don't know if I ought to be thankful. I saw a draft of mine from a while back, and it has been a while since i've tried to post. This is what it said:

"...huwaw, pasukan!

It's been the honest truth that the only reason I'm still around right now is because I'm needed.
I was hoping that might finally end before summer so rudely interrupted me. I want to die."

Things haven't much changed. I suppose there are new people around me. And there are some of the old people. They haven't changed, except for maybe the extra year of experience we have yet to account for. I'm graduating, hopefully, but I don't want to. I guess I need to.

The crick in my neck is telling me I'm too tired to live a full life when I do. I don't know why. I find that the most exhilarating part of my day is waking up from an exciting dream. How sad is that?

It's gotten boring around cursor. I could almost swear we used to do so much more stuff. I have another bit, 2 thesis mates, 2 196 group-mates, 4 173 group-mates, and an incomplete practicum group-mate. All this dependence I find myself clinging on to, feels like a subconscious will to live. It feels weird.

I've done myself the favor of analyzing the logic behind this subconscious urge to keep the clock ticking. There is none. I guess we'll see what happens. The stabbing pain in my chest stopped. I find its been replaced by a whistling hollow and a chronic itch I've yet to scratch.

Congratulations to my bodily faculties. Once more they have conspired, against my will, to keep people needing me, thereby keeping me alive. I rest on the assurance that no one can win them all.

I used to wonder if anybody out there would reciprocate the love I made an effort to spill so generously. Now I wonder if there is any love left to give. I find myself thinking more and more mean and evil thoughts about my friends and acquaintances. I despise this ill progression.

This incessant whistling is keeping me awake, I'd like to find a plug, thank you. Though I seriously doubt that it would help with the nihilistic trend I seem to have come across. I suppose it would keep me needed.

Dream Chronicles # 1

2007-01-11T23:18:00.000+08:00

My TV is busted. Instead of sleepless nights in front of the tube, I've resorted to restful evenings of enjoyable dreaming.

I have a fair number of memorable dreams, but only now did I think of recounting them for the imaginative pleasure of anybody who cares to look them over.

[Nap...]
MEAN LITTLE SISTER
Of this dream, I remember trying to drive my mother-in-law home. I'm not not married, and I've yet to meet any mother-in-law-to-be, but bear with me.

I remember opening the door for my mother-in-law. My sister jumped into the driver's seat. Locked the doors. It took my mother-in-law a while before she noticed who was driving.

By then I was on the hood, trying to break into my car through the wind shield. When I realized I was bashing my own wind shield in, my sister was busting through my skylight and other windows. I think she was rubbing my stupidity in my face, trying to piss me off. Then she swerved and threw me off the car.

I remember running after them ~ on all fours. I don't know why, so don't ask.

Then I woke up~

really really pissed at my innocent little sister.

She can be really pissy at times so I don't think that sort of behavior is beyond her in real life. She pinned my head in the door with automatic windows once. EVIL. Hurt like HELL. I don't think I'll be running on all fours anytime soon though.

Please Smile

2007-01-11T08:39:00.000+08:00

It makes life more bearable for others. It really does.

weekend UPdate

2006-12-24T22:23:00.000+08:00

kahapon, gusto ko nang mamatay ulit. Six Feet Under just ended forever. They killed all the characters, death just seemed so inviting then...

...buti nalang hindi pa ako nagpapakamatay...

nag-enjoy ako buong araw... kain... inom... sayaw... tawa... kung ang pilipinas ay kilala sa hospitality... mas mabait ang Lao...

must be the beer... go Beerlao!!!

sarap...

met wonderful people... and for the first time in forever++ (di ka counted nini... bf mo kasi ako...), somebody said I was handsome...

it was a 12 year old girl, pero sweet parin...

miss na kita mahal... sana lang pogi ako sayo....

and then there was...

2006-12-16T09:13:00.000+08:00

... nothing.

For all of you wondering about the horrendous gash on my thigh... well... you guessed it...

A sudden and skewed attack of conscience – or something similar, resulting in several gashes, the deepest of which is at least a centimeter in.

"why?" doesn't cut it... (no pun intended)

"WHY THE HELL!?"

There you go...

After a a severe skirmish with my mother over a long standing battle whether I should ever go out my way to help my friends out, my mother caught my at a rude stalemate. I was pissed and she was sleepy.

I ran to my room like a little girl and bawled...

hell no!

It seems like a small thing, seeing as I am one of the least dependable people in the world.

What people never ask about or ever take notice of is the enthusiasm with which I help, and the willingness with which I follow through some difficult tasks.

Masochistic?

Maybe.

I just think I'm just the worst kind of pleaser.

I hadn't done this kind of thing for so long. This, at the behest of the only person whose love was ever made manifest to me.

The mantra for the night was...

"I only ever lived for the people I love. If they don't need me, what's the point."

People aren't as happy s they used to be at other points in my life. So it really sucks that the only substantial happiness I ever truly enjoy is seeing that other people are happy because of me.

I'm not happy, and I haven't been happy for a very long time...

totoo ang mga sinabi ko sa inyo nhiza, mari, at roanne...

totoong totoo...

CLUMSY

2006-11-15T22:24:00.000+08:00

para sa mga magkakaibigang sobra ang pagmamahal sa isa't isa na nagkakasakitan na sila

Throw away the radio suitcase
That keeps you awake
Hide the telephone, the telephone, telephone, in case,
You realize that sometimes you're not okay
You level off, you level off, you level off,
And its not all right now

You need to understand
There's nothing strange about this
You need to know your friends
You need to know that
I'll be waving my hand watching you drown
Watching you scream
Quiet or loud

And maybe you should sleep
And maybe you just need, a friend
As clumsy as you've beenThere's no one laughing
You will be safe in here
You will be safe in here

Throw away this very old shoelace
That tripped you again
Try to shrug it off, shrug it off, shrug it off
It's only skin now

You need to understand
There's nothing fake about this
You need to let me in
I'm watching you
And I'll be waving my hand watching you drown
Watching you scream
No ones around

And maybe you should sleep
And maybe you just need, a friend
As clumsy as you've been
There's no one laughing
You will be safe in here
You will be safe in

I'll be waving my hand watching you drown
Watching you scream
Quiet or loud

And maybe you should sleep
And maybe you just need, a friend
As clumsy as you've been
There's no one laughing
You will be safe in here ow ow
You will be safe in ow ow

The truth about special capacities

2006-11-04T08:18:00.000+08:00

empaths don't have many friends because it hurts too much to deal with other peoples emotional baggage.

psychics would rather not know what other people are thinking to avoid being responsible for the consequences of other people's actions.

prophets don't gamble because they know what's going to happen if they do.

clairvoyants don't look behind walls if they had a choice because walls are there to hide the horrors of humanity.

but sometimes they don't have a choice. sometimes? most times...

Jorge Sison(1986-2005)

2006-10-21T00:25:00.000+08:00

In memory of Jorge Sison, I break my right hand. Your outlook on life was a beautiful flower in a harsh desert. You will be missed. Died in his sleep, died in his teens.

I will mourn you as I try to face the next month with my left hand, because I know you deserve more than a tear.

pramis

2006-10-18T20:43:00.000+08:00

I refuse to ever group up with people who don't pull their own weight. Nakakapagod... yun lang...

True Friends

2006-09-26T23:44:00.000+08:00

I wonder if anybody feels this as much and as often as I do. That would be overstating what I really am experiencing. But sa it has become more and more evident to me, kahit mababaw ang kaligayahan ko, masakit ako makaramdam ng sakit.

Hindi naman sa sakit ang nararamdaman ko. It really isn't that. I just feel so small. One of my sincerest wishes is to matter into peoples lives. Oh well, I'm only ever in their lives for short moments, it shouldn't surprise me anymore that I matter so little. Maybe I should focus my efforts.

Doing that just makes me feel so selfish though. I know this may seem like quite a claim, but I love my friends. Many though they are, they are far in between, and it becomes thoroughly difficult for me to make them feel what I want them to feel. Gusto ko ng best friend. Mundo wala ba diyang available?

Dapat sana meron diba? Dapat sana meron na, pero ang layo mo, hindi lang layo sa literal. Nahihirapan narin yata akong abutin ang puso mo. At nabibitak-bitak narin ang puso ko dahil sa lamig ng mundo. Hindi ako masaya.

Olats

2006-09-18T13:34:00.000+08:00

If ever there was a time for anyone to feel inadequate, it is now. It is today and the next day and the next next day. Because today, we are reminded of how horribly we did during our own application periods. Which brings me back to love. Of all the bloody things this blog is dedicated to, there willl always be those recurring snipets of introspection into how the disease called love factors into our lives. Mahal ko ba talaga ang Cursor? Heaven knows I'm not enjoying it as much as I realy ought to. How much chould I enjoy it? Muling tinatamad si ma'am na magturo at pagkatapos nito, kami naman ang mag-lelecture.

The Wiener - Hopf equations for logical weight adjustment. As far as prioritization is concerned, I would like to pose the question, how do you satisfy cursor? How do you upset it beyond reconciliation? If you manage either, will it help others do the same?

I wil admit that it takes courage to completely sever yourself from something so large. To have been a part of something so rich and large is to hold over yourself a rich history you never trully experienced as a whole. While I feel its weight, I feel there should be more. There is no more love. There is no more love in what I feel for this lunk of people. What holds us together teeters by a thread. I miss cursor though I haven't left. I miss cursor, so that I inted to leave. I do not know why I feel this way.

Bigla Atang Bumoring ang Buhay...

2006-09-15T21:06:00.000+08:00

Naiirita ako kapag walang masaya na nangyayari sa buhay. Naiirita ako kapag walang stressful na nangyayari sa buhay. Para ngang bumibilis ang paglipas ng mga araw pero mas boring naman ang buhay. Bakit ganoon. Bakit minsan hindi sapat na mahal ako ng iniibig ko? Bakit minsan di sapat na pumapasa na ako sa mga subjects ko? Bakit minsan hindi sapat na minamahal na ulit ako ng magulang ko? Bakit hindi sapat na malapit kami ng kapatid ko? Bakit hindi sapat na may mga kaibigan ako? Bakit hindi sapat ang holding hands? Bakit hindi sapat ang buhay? Bakit hindi sapat ang ligaya? Hindi pa lubusang nagpapaalam ang sakit sa buhay ko, pero bakit namimis ko na siya? Para akong napag-iwanan ng matalik na kakilala.

Para akong tinakwil. Bakit kaya? Parang lumang hangin ang hinihinga ko. Parang napakatagal na nang huli kong malanghap ang tunay na buhay...

Lucky

2006-09-12T22:02:00.000+08:00

if there is one person who would take care of you when you are sick

count yourself lucky...

if there is one person who would cook you hot soup to warm your soul

count yourself lucky...

if there is one person who would hurry to get you the medicine you need

count yourself lucky...

if there is one person who would let you, tired and feverish, lay in their bed without a second thought

count yourself lucky...

if there is one person who would stay by your side in the heat, while you burn from the inside

count yourself lucky...

if there is one person who would rub you down to keep your fever at bay

count yourself lucky...

if there is one person who, when nothing else was to be done, would hold you in their arms

count yourself lucky...

I am very lucky. There are two such people in my life.

I am also most miserable. Because they hate each other so.

Mom, you have no idea how much my Love has cared for me. You have no idea what life she has breathed into me.

Love, I know what my Mom has done is unforgivable, but I ask you to find it in your heart to give her another chance, should she ever realize to take it

Time Flies

2006-09-04T13:11:00.000+08:00

one year, eleven months, one day, ten hours, and 42 minutes...

Each night I wake fevered with the repressed feeling I save for you.

one year, eleven months, one day, ten hours, and 43 minutes...

I can't peel my thoughts away from you...

one year, eleven months, one day, ten hours, and 45 minutes...

I can't help but think about how you are...

one year, eleven months, one day, ten hours, and 50 minutes...

I can't help but wonder if right now, you're dreaming about me...

On Hope

2006-09-04T02:10:00.000+08:00

reposted from a lost journal - Nov. 25, 2004 at 06:25 PM

[... and how most of it is all wishfull thinking]

She found herself in a bar, half a lit cigarette in her lips, her fingers tipped with ash specks. She had a lukewarm Martini in front of her, its glass beaded with dew to the clear liquid's edge. New faces danced to her muted background while the bartender dried shot glasses at the corner of her eye.

She lowered her cigarette and inhaled the hazy atmosphere. It felt like her first breath, like gasping after a long dive. The warm club air filled her chest and the scene came alive, the thumping music resonating in her lungs, resuscitating her still heart while the club lights cut through the smoke and into the dark mirrors.

The bar counter was cold, and she was alone. As she thought to turn and watch the heaving mass of dancing people, she felt warm hands slip over hers from behind, and lift the cigarette from between her fingers. A man was lighting his cigarette with hers. His other arm still over hers, as he looked her in the eye...

On how beautiful music is really sadder than it first seems...

2006-09-03T23:42:00.000+08:00

[...and simply how much more beautiful it is than you thought it could ever be]

I heard a song on the radio today, and like most songs I end up thoroughly loving, I just had to get a copy. And like most songs I first hear, whose lyrics I'd only then heard, whose titles and artists still escape me at the goodbye kiss of the last few notes, I search them out from what I remember of the chorus.

... and I know I know I wasn't right, but it felt so good
... and your mother didn't mind, like I thought she would
... and an REM song was playing in my mind

... three and a half minutes felt like a life time

like most songs about that topic, it 'tugged at my heart' beyond and deeper than most other songs really should and ever ought to. It felt so soft and warm when I first heard it. That only gave my soul up to the sorry heartbreak that only the first few verses I missed (while changing channels) and the last few verses I overlooked (memorizing the chorus lyrics) could deliver.

...Allie woke up, 8 am, graduation day
...Got into a car, and crashed along the way.

...When we arrived late, to the wake
...Stole the urn while they looked away
...And drove to the beach, 'cause I knew you'd want it that way

the song was a flashback - in the memory of a lover at the dusk of innocence. Nothing beats the remorse for a dawn that never fully shone, or love that never trully blossomed or anything, for that matter, that we mourn for a death at conception.

...And I went to my room, played that disc that you'd given me
...And I shut my eyes, swear I could hear the sea
...When we were standing on the hood of you car, singing out loud when the sun came up

It's when you hear songs like these that you wish you'd have gotten to know the one for whom it was written, if only to stem the tightness curdling in the vicinity of your heart. For Allie, it is a sincere wishful thought that I conjure, where you trully enjoyed those beautiful moments and that your life, while short, was full. And for BETTER THAN EZRA, I thank you for skewing me away from some much needed study and allowing me to be depressed by the reminder that, at a month short of two years, I am, as yet, unable to fully express even the barest of the extent of my pent up affection for its sole object. You know who you are and I know you think you know how I feel. The truth of the matter is, I miss you more than you can possibly imagine. My heart only still beats because of you.

...Are you sitting in the lights?
...Or combing your hair again
...And talking in rhymes?
...Are you sitting in the lights?