fingers crossed

Too much caffeine and figuring out how to end world hunger was enough to keep me awake. For two weeks now, i have had (?) this sleeping problem and i seriously need some sleep. I gotta stop thinking man. Escapism. God. Help Me. And oh, suddenly i had this impulse of painting my room, PURPLE! I don't know, it seemed like, uhm, like princess-like. You know how every royalty needs to have something purple in their castle. Im not sure about todays generation tho. Maybe the only purple thing in royalties are panties or purple recyclable cups (i saw this one on E-bay which amounted to $14,000. Imagine that!) Or you know the cool thing would be, have my walls wallpapered with newspaper clippings. You know how some teen movies rooms looked so artistic in those. Well, reality check, they are messy! But last year, surprisingly, i didn't receive any violent reactions per se from my mom on vandalizing it literally with favorite book lines and crappy thoughts. But she did insist on putting something about her. Hahaha. How egocentric of my mother, right?

I'm guessing Christmas will be lonely this year. My brother and cousin Shayne cannot make it home. Buuuut, we have fairly numerous of "people" to fill in their absence. From the original trio (of two dogs and one (partly stray coz he's always out socializing with other cats) cat) we brought two hamsters! How cool is that, right? Seriously though, we still couldn't figure out if its hamsters or guinea pigs. They're freakin identical. Plus, were planning to extend our oh so loving family that were buying two white mice and one rabbit. So cool. Definitely zoo-like! My mom said if she'd win the lottery she'd brought me real life zoo-like place. Haha. Hello? Lottery? When's that gonna happen. Still, i'm having my fingers crossed.

I dont know, maybe its not all that bad. I'll be home with cousins, pets, and parents (who's still not talking by the way. I mean, what happened to the season of forgiving, right? Oh well. Its just a matter of getting used to. Hahaha) And oh, i'm looking forward on what will my cousin Era will cook. She always have this crazy ideas of cooking pasta or french sound-like menu. I just hope the Rachel Ray book works. Please just let it be something edible and make Christmas a toilet free day. If you know what i mean. Haha. I too am having my fingers crossed on that.


Ciao!

relentless possibilities.

WISH MAKING.

HAND HOLDING.

SPONTANEOUS STREET PARTYING

having moments.

they are made, not taken. given, created, cultivated, and curated. they can be stunning, striking, calming, or perplexing.

they intrigue. they inspire.

at this present you-know-what i find myself bundled in a blanket, cuddled on a couch, content with the day well lead, with a belly full of spaghetti (how long has it been oh favorite pasta of mine?).

life is a kick, ain't it?

a true trip.

the next few steps are coming into focus. i'm doing again a little more (back in historic go-mode), got a little more enthusiasm about projects in production (i'll post a few examples soon), and am generally, you know, stoked. this rainy wonderland atmosphere isn't hurting.

happy sunday, it is positively spilling over with possibility.

for this moment.

i stared amid the darkness of the night with only a lone candle to light the sadness of the breeze. tonight is no different from the nights i stood still and thought of you.


i badly want to open my box. find your shirts and pictures lingering in my fingertips as they are neatly wrapped in silk. They seemed to dominate my closet like a hungry dog on the prowl, seeming to growl at me late this night. sometimes, i stared at them at a safe distance trying to figure out the fastest possible way to get rid of them (mail them back to you, perhaps?) I'm sure they'd been sent to destroy me for it did nothing but make me miss you more. Occasionally, they comfort me like hearing your voice on the other line telling me you love me over and over again.

i loved you from the moment you walked on Kara's birthday wearing that red Lacoste shirt and a naughty smile on your face. Or probably because you never misspelled my name while inviting me at your place over a few beers and friends. Or the unwillingness to believe that ChocoBomb was far more agreeable in taste when ritualed with smoke and dust powders (nevertheless, the taste was not compromised. hehehe) or your insistence that i kissed you first the night we were all sober.

its painful to even think about you now. shifting blankets in the middle of the night wishing it was you beside me. things would have been different if i stayed, i know that now.


i don't need boxes wrapped on strings. i just want you. and i couldn't care less if your the last thing under my Christmas tree. I just want you.




I miss you.



I love you.

benigno aquino, jr.

I do not know when it was in my life that I came across the excerpts of his speech. I can honestly tell you it was beyond the lines of academic necessities.

I do remember it was while reading idly that I ran into the words, a great man had wanted to speak upon his arrival to the country he had hoped to free from oppression and tyranny.


Except that he was forever silenced upon his return.


Still, his words echo into today, louder even, because the tyranny, the wanton disregard of the rights and freedom continues until today–long after we had thought that such tyranny had already been buried beneath the swell of support for the unparalleled popular people uprising that supposedly restored our democracy.


“There can be no deal with a Dictator. No compromise with Dictatorship,” he had planned to say then.

Listen to him now.

For make no doubt about it, we are dealing with a dictator. We are dealing with a dictatorship, one insidious in its villainy–and even then, one that does not do a good job of veiling the callous way by which it rips our very birthright to shreds.

Indeed, he died way before he should have.

The one part of his speech that grabbed me then and continues to disturb my thoughts now is the one where he quotes Gandhi: “[T]he WILLING sacrifice of the innocent is the most powerful answer to insolent tyranny that has yet been conceived by God and man.”

(Capitalization was his)

He willingly sacrificed himself. But it makes me wonder: Had he known then what we all know now, would he have saved that sacrifice to fight off this latest threat to our country?

After all, the leaders have changed and the way of life has been transformed. Tyranny has put on a new face and developed new methods of corruption; of oppression. But one thing remains the same: The Filipino is, as he declared then, worth dying for.


Will always be.

always been thee.

to my "belinda",

i stayed up awake last night thinking of you. how long has it been? a year or so? 493 sunrise and sunsets, yet feels like everything is still the same. The same thrills and shivers when i hear your name or listening to you on the other line saying my name. I can still smell you, lingering in this air of melancholy. I miss you. The way you close your eyes when you sleep and snore, louder than my radio, yet, you remain to be fascinatingly likable. I miss you. The scent of faded rose petals on your jeans and gummy bears on rainy days. The feeling of intoxication in the bitter days of regret and misery. our shared vertigo's. i think of you like it was yesterday. You, me, alone with a cup of hot choco outside the busy streets of Pala-o. The untold love stories above flying cars and twilight zones. Dusts in our feet and sinful goodbyes of ex-boyfriends in our pockets.

everything ended but you were still there, i had you, we had each other. such sweet sorrowful voice in a glass of box, when all i can hear was the car, blowing its horn. Everything was a mistake, yet, twistedly perfect. Yesteryear's of silence did nothing but see a piece of you in every people i meet. You're that words written on crumpled paper. Little things that we take for granted, not noticing that they permit big ideologies to dominate us in the long run. I miss you. Have i said it enough?

I guess all i have (and will always have) are our memories, of barbeque sticks, midnight dances, cup noodles, and fast food spoons. But you, lucky girl, you'll have me. A big chunk of my brain (as if you need it!), this thingamajig that beats, and twinkle toes. I love you, still. You cant get rid of me that easily.

But for now, you're like a fleeting brilliant flash of falling star on my dark summer night. One moment alive, then suddenly gone, maybe forever. The weight of this sad time we must obey; speak what we feel, not what we ought to say. So, are you really getting married or was it part of his teenage angst brigade?

Anticipating,
DEE

kini giyud si jimi :D

Rules of Engagement.

Remove one (1) questions from below, and add in your personal question(I put an asterisk on mine ), make it a total of 20 questions, then tag eight (8) people in your list. List them out at the end of the post.

1. At what age do/did you wish to marry?
- 90.il be dead by den.haha (sorry jeff ;-p)

2. to be or not to be? (sorry, blackouts!) :D

3. Have you ever shoplifted?
- hmm, now ders an idea.haha

4. Where would you like to go to the most?
- an ice cream factory. iv nvr been to one and itd be cool to gobble up all theyr suplies.

5. What is your guilty pleasure?
- food.

6. When you encounter a sad moment, what do you do?
- eat. no, i mean, EAT!

7. If you win $1 million, what would you do?

- cash it and wallpapered it in my room :D

8. What do you love the most about last year, 2007?
- rockyroad ice cream and pizza. (pasenxa, gigutom mn gud ko.hehe)

9. List 3 good points of the person who tagged you.
- extrovert.gay (by that, i meant jovial). and smart.

10. How do you cope with boredom?
- hound (harass is the apt word to use, just merely avoiding it) my mom into buying me a book ;)

11. What kind of person do you hate the most?

- hypocritical sons of bitches. (sory sa language ;-p)

12. After you graduate from university, where do you see yourself living?
- two N's. ngo or npa.haha

13. If you have one wish, what would you wish for?
- world peace, seriously! :D

14. Given a chance to join a reality show, which one would you join?
- wala. i hate ems.

15. What`s your favourite TV show?
- Gikan sa Masa, Para sa Masa.haha Duterte's funny wen he curse and threat people ;-)

16. Would you go back in time if you were given the chance?
- y not coconut.

17. What do you remember me most for?

- by me u mean you or me?hahaha

18. If you get to live someone else's life for a day, who's life would you want to live?
- jane felix-browne. duno. got sudenly curious of wat life wud be like wen ur married to a guy twice (younger) ur age and Osama bin Laden as dad-in-law.

19. When you die, what is it you'd like to be remembered for:
- zzzzz

20. Greatest dream?
- ..to live happily ever after :D

EIGHT? NAH! IM TAGGING Y'ALL! HAHA :D

unbeknownst to many - or maybe not.

Since I'm turning 18 tomorrow, i owe myself a little space and think inside the box. Haha Or i think this is called pondering or looking back. Heck, i don't know. This may turn out to be one of those emo slash cheesy blogs. Haha. Anyhoo, here goes:

1. No matter how atypical a person may be, he can at times be boring. Especially when he valiantly try to be oh so cool. Remember, only YOU can prevent mediocrity :-)

2. I think people love to be in-love because there's a vacuum in all of us that needs to get filled up all the time and which unfortunately (favored-ly to others) attracts the wrong types constantly in both sexes. So next time, ask yourselves this, "Do you see your worth only through the eyes of the other person, or do feel your only alive if your in-love?"

3. Funny, when i broke up with my ex-bf (Mr. R.F.Mollion), i couldn't give myself one substantial reason why i cried so hard. Not that he was such a loss, instead, life with him was a living hell. Disastrous. I think it was just a manifestation of adolescent (or teen) rebellion on my part. If Kuya hadn't howled about him, id dumped I'm long before. I even dedicated the song Sweet Escape to him. I mean, hello? How corny can i get? Haha. So, always remember how short life is. A few years, or months in a miserable relationship could be such hell. And you know the, "the-one-that-got-away syndrome"? Turn the tables around and you could be the one he lost by sheer insensitivity. Aaaand, real peace and happiness comes only with open acceptance (a very pageantry phrase) :-)

4. My parents gave us the freedom to choose what to believe until we were old enough to realize and/or know things. They think its child abuse to let a child embrace religion when he's too young to even understand something. I was never baptised and later on adopted agnosticism. I experienced dereliction and even ridicule, that is until i fought back. Haha. i mean not all who go to church are saints and not all who stay at home are sinners. In fact, i think we are the lesser evils. Haha :D

5. I don't know what to call my family. Haha. I'm not even sure if we're a family. Hehe. My folks were never married legally, although my mother insist twas legal - SA BUKID! Haha. And why my parents was married in the boondocks? Sorry, i cant tell you. No, cant do. Hihihi ;-p But they live under one roof and on one bed (hmm, that makes em live-ins? Haha!) but they haven't talk since last year or was that last last year? More like divorced folks. And I'm telling you, IT IS REALLY HARD. *stress on really please, thank you* My father's only home during weekends. Hes always away, working. And my mothers always nagging or maybe its her PMS. Hehe. I think i never really loved them. But i should. I'm obligated to. Oh well *sigh*

6. My kuya, Rojo Bagani N. Acebedo, half-brother actually, hes from the first husband of my mother. (You see, egat si Mama sauna. Haha!) His father died during, uhm, i guess you could call it a military encounter. His name actually means Red Warrior. On the other hand, Proleta N. Gomez, shes the sister and a lousy one. And i havta admit, shes the pretty one. Hehe Her name came from the word Proletariat w/c means working class (or you could Google it). She sometimes uses her other name, ARMADEM (Armas ng Demokrasya). She claims she has a birth certificate on that, we let her languish in her fantasies. Hehe

7. When i was 8, i hated my name. Nobody can seem to pronounce it perfectly. My teacher used to call me 'Dimdim'. Oh god, the horror! Some would eventually spell it as Dimsin. Worse, some thought i was a guy. JUSKO! My birth certificate even states IM A MALE! And it takes P20,000 for a legal "sex change", minus the attorney's fee. And that's why i couldn't get a passport. Well, yes, thank you very much whoever you are that messed up my papers.

8. Expressing, that's my failing. I don't know how to say words that demonstrate emotion. They embarrass me. But believe me, i do have feelings. Oftentimes, when i try to talk to my father, i get tongue-tied and end up crying. I'm such a cry baby. But perhaps i was given no words because there is no need for words - OR NOT! Maybe he thinks I'm dumb. Haha. Well, who's dumber now, ha? Okay, whatever.

9. Yesterday, as i was telling my boyfriend my plans, he right there and then, hated me. Haha. he thinks I'm stupid, although he cant seem to win over our arguments. He hated the fact that id rather choose arm struggle than peaceful way of dealing things. I mean, what peaceful way? We haven't even struggled our ass to freedom. He said he'd wait on change to happen, to rely on other people to do the fighting. So, that makes him one of the 80 million cowards in this country. Id rightfully sacrifice my education. Better uneducated and fight for what should be ours than be privileged and let someone enthroned on gold amid adulation they had neither earned nor deserve. My mother once told me that, if i don't want to fight for the country, then get out, migrate and see maggots of conscience creeps into every inch of my soul. Well, what can i do? I hate maggots. Hehe

10. I'm planning to write a book... That is, until i get a laptop.




Follow-ups next time. I really need to poo. Haha. Seriously! :D

schadenfreude

Last night, a talk show guested Tessa Prieto-Valdez, all was trashy bourgeoisie stuff but she was right on one thing though, WE ARE ALL JUST A TINY SPECK IN THIS WORLD. Generalization: people should ought to stop thinking (or talking) about emselves. Ironically, twas weird hearing it from someone who dresses unconventionally just to be talked about (or i don't know, maybe its just her fashion style. well, if that's the case, she should really get a stylist. don't worry Tessa, you're not alone).

I finished reading the evuuur controversial blog of Brian Gorrell, if you have no idea, read the papers. haha OOOOR click on this.

Well, he is definitely hitting on something BIG, the Lopezes, Tim Yap, Tinio, etc. Average ugly (Haha) people, only, with lots of money who cant function really well without cocaine and some booze. What can you expect from the high society of a Third World Country.

But, the bigger issues are still afloat. Address them, i will. Act on them, we will.

I believe that the Filipino masses are the real strength and soul of the country, but that tiny, corrupt, soft and decadent ruling elite had usurped all our rights and monopolized resources.

But if one fights right up to the ball, one can win in impossible situations. And one losses only when one gives up. Failure, i found, was sometimes more useful than success - provided you made a careful diagnosis of your defeat and then worked hard to eliminate your flaws. Losing is a disaster only if you let it demoralize you. The more one challenge one self and took risks, the stronger and better one became.

I realized that an independent judiciary was integral in protecting the weak from the powerful, the poor from the elite, and ushering genuine democracy and prosperity in my homeland. The system in the Philippines had evolved into the point where criminals and crooks would enter politics by whatever means necessary, since winning office afforded them virtual immunity from prosecution. Nepotism (as well) disgust me like a rotten apple in the hands of Eve.

Majority should belong to an anti-status quo party. We should struggle for judicial independence and social and economic justice. In a country where there are vast disparities in income and wealth and where millions, like us, live in poverty, the privilege (people with access to proper education and the opportunities it brings) should start changing things. Being privileged imposes an obligation as well, an obligation to a cause larger than one self. And that is what they should spend their latter years trying to fulfill instead of plotting how to harness more money, money, money.

Now, if we tolerate more people (like the Gucci Gang), where the hell are we heading to then? We are feeding the addiction of others, and killing the lives of children. My niece don't know what corruption is, but she is paying for it. Schadenfreude; simultaneously delicious and horrible, perhaps like eating chocolate-covered-cockroaches.

CONFUSE pt.1

I have been reading Greek myths again for the past few days, which i think is only a moral beat or two away from being the most all-encompassing minds/stories i have ever encountered.

And then a realization: MAYBE HE'S A MISTAKE. I'm thinking of myself as a magnificent twelve-by-twelve foot oriental rug spread across a palace floor, displayed for all to admire and enjoy. Now, I'm thinking of Jeff as a twelve-by-twelve inch finely hewn box sitting over on the nearby table... What we (i) do -- is madly try to stuff my 12x12 foot dimensions into his 12x12 inch dimensions. It wont fit. Maybe Jeff and I don't fit, at all. It doesn't mean one is better than the other, maybe were just intrinsically different. A MISMATCH!

I dunno. I'm challenging myself to consider my needs as a hindrance to my otherwise limitless journey -- my quest for the mundane. This'll just pass, I HOPE :D

the power and stupidity of the mob

People power is a reminder of how momentous people can start a revolutionary act when they withdraw consent to the existing government. And it will always remain a mark on peoples heart how strong people can be when united.

Recalling at the infamous people power I, it was the assassination of Benigno Aquino that lit the fire that eventually consume Marcos regime. Of course, they experience election fraud, manipulation of public opinion, martial law, limited civil rights and federal threat whom go against the government. Arrest and assassinations kept the public living in fear. Murders was widespread. Students, activist, rebels, politicians - no one was spared and many was killed in rallies.

And now, this. After 23 years (since i never really considered Edsa II as a people power but euphoric when Estrada was ousted), the opposition plans to hold a big rally, where it aims to get a million people in the streets to push President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo out of Malacañang, reminiscent of the EDSA People Power I and II uprisings.

The politics of hatred is nowhere more apparent than in the Senate. For instance, Sen. Jamby Madrigal threatened at the Senate hearings to divulge all the unsavory things she knew about Commission on Higher Education Chair Romy Neri if he refused to testify. That is blackmail. While Madrigal bears a name fabled for its wealth, her manners are worse than those of the least educated jeepney driver.

Equally sad is that Cory Aquino now likens star witness Jun Lozada to Ninoy Aquino and Bishop Teodoro Bacani compares him to Jesus Christ. As Pascual noted, thanks to adoring media, every utterance of this witness, whose stewardship at government-controlled Philippine Forest Corp. was marked by graft and nepotism, is swallowed by the public as gospel truth, even though he has not presented a shred of evidence. To paraphrase Shakespeare, many have lost their reason. We must all pause and pray until it comes back to our society.

For every idiocy of Filipinos, (to quote Newton, for every action, there's equal but opposite reaction) I vote NO to oust Gloria. BETTER HER THAN A MILITARY JUNTA, since they are also calling for the ouster of De Castro. And Jun Lozada is no hero, every citizen, every public official has the duty to serve the people with all honesty. He did the right thing, but did not deserve the celebrity treatment for he, as well, stole from us. He is no God. And for once, the CBCP did the right decision to abandon the mob, call for truth and spared Gloria. She is corrupt, but what can we do? We have no choice, politicians alike are all the same. Worse, Estrada is trying to bend the constitution and publicizing the possibility of running for presidency - AGAIN! oh boy. And did we not put GMA in the her position anyway with our People Power II? Yes they are all puppets, they are all greedy. And we are a hopeless case unless someone with a big hammerhead change the system.

But okay, lets give this issue the benefit of the doubt, lets assume People power III will happen and some Trapo (traditional politician) will assume the presidency. After violent revolutions, and never ending rallies, there will always be scores to settle, grudges to satisfy, revenge to extract and the cycle of violence will continue.

While in the past the Philippine revolution deposed a powerful dictator and a corrupt leader, it left much of the old centralized power structure unchanged. The new President was from a wealthy family. The poor were still poor, and the rich was still in charge. Capitalism emerged stronger than ever. And so, the question lies, WHEN WILL FILIPINOS EVER LEARN? Change, systematically and diplomatically, will not come in this country, THERE IS NO HOPE.

every Trapo's spiked bed

Only the naive believe that the overthrow of JDV was motivated by altruistic or nationalistic reasons. There was hardly any pretense that this was being maneuvered for the sake of national interest.

all this fig leaves meant to disguise the naked greed of the congressmen, all the orations about "reform" and "change" were shibboleths, words long stripped of their real meaning, concepts long ago discarded as outmoded by the House. they were excuses which time and again the congressmen who rose to register their votes revealed as secondary. To what? their projects, their pork. of course, if they wont supersede what the arroyo admin wants, they can make it really hard for you - AND YOUR PORK BARREL!

its a cautionary tale about power. But De Venecia's fall is not the cause for public revulsion at what transpired in the House. Instead, its the sight of old and young leaders united by avarice and blinded by ambition. The baptism into congressional politics received by the 84 neophytes at the House makes it truly deserving of what was said by Arsenio Lacson of Ernseto Maceda, who ironically sat as witness to the Monday night rub out: "SO YOUNG, AND YET SO....." ALL OF THEM.

It was a sign that what the House has because will persist: a lapdog institution, with no sense of independence or integrity, heedless of its constitutional prerogatives. And of a unicameral pseudo-parliamentary system to come, ruled by ruthless First Family of political buccaneers. No one can have any illusions, at this point, that their appetite, always unbounded, is now out of control.

These are "TRAPO'S;" through and through, the word "trapo" or rag nowhere being more appropriate. Rag are the repository of dirt whose ultimate destination is the garbage dump, or should be. We've excoriated entertainers for polluting politics with their breath. Well, "trapos" are worse, far far worse. Entertainers stop being entertainers when they are elected into office. Traditional politicians stop being traditional when they are elected into office, only in the sense that they blaze new paths in crookedness, murderousness and ripping off the public. PRAY, HOW DOES PROSPERO NOGRALES REPRESENT AN IMPROVEMENT IN OUR LIVES IN PLACE OF DE VENECIA??

For us, public, they don't really care what we think, we are just viewers of their catastrophic actions. Jun Lozada was right, Pilipino does not simply constitute one family, it means one nation. And sometimes, its worth taking a risk for, for this country.

The trapo's trapo has fallen from his perch, but is there reason to hope that a statesman has been born in his place? Looking at Nograles, i say THERE'S NO HOPE.

They are the ones making spike at their beds, when will the people make them lie in it?

at the peak of your own shoes.

For seventeen years, i have been in constant search for the one, the one thing that would stamp my heart with massive contentment. No, no, no. I'm not in search for love; I'm looking for more substantial bliss. I'm entirely honest when i say until now, I'm still wondering what an ordinary bloke like me doing in this topsy-turvy world.

Most people don't realize that you are your own worst adjudicator. I find myself probably the most uncool person in this universe (or maybe just here in the Philippines. hehe). Unlike the majority of kiddos in my generation, I'm not entirely convinced with the Orwellian newspeak categories of cool, totally cool, and awesome. I'm obsessed with Snakes and Ladders, dictionaries, and Philosophy, and my Usb used to have a name, which - lets be honest is quite geeky.

On Saturdays, you will most probably find me either at a bookstore trying to look smart, or at our university's sprawling cafeteria eating maruya. And as much as i would not like to reveal this, my lone purpose every time i got to El Centro (or C5 look-alike bars in Davao or Cdo) is to drink drupes shake.

But you wouldn't know how unexciting i am until you have (or live) with me. But no, really, I'm not totally saying I'm the worst roommate. I don't know, Nikki seems to love me still despite the constant nagging she receives every time she comes home early morning. Hahahaha. She just detest seeing me cooked up reading all day, rather than our usual food tripping. I'm not different, i just digress.

You see, i sometimes forget that aside from the constant learning, life also hand you over trials and merriment which very much espouses individuality and keeps you true to one's self.

A professor once told us in class that, "If you're a shoemaker, be the best shoemaker there is. Don't try to be a doctor." One important lesson I've learned from the past years is that whoever you are, or whatever state in life may be, you can do something sizable. Think for a second how beautiful that is. And hey, you can actually change things even how ordinary you are.

T.S Eliot once wrote, "There is a very large number of people in the world today who believe that all ills are fundamentally economic." The glitch is that we tend to confuse ourselves by treating reality based on what is plainly negotiated - engrossing too much on ideologies, and forgetting that people are starving.Ironically, we humans choose to focus our binoculars on the bigger problems, which are really impossible to be solved instantaneously. History has taught us again and again that there is no other way to get out of an excruciating mess than by starting with our own selves, by being the best shoemaker in the world.

ashes

There she was, San Mig in one hand and under Sanchoisms.

In this state she began to wait for the warming of her hands, still holding a cigarette, scattering ashes on the floor. There is no stopping the prolonged coldness, but she just sits there, puffing, dragging and wishing that she were somebody else.

She runs her fingers through her hair, then smoothens the creases on her skirt, probing every fold of cloth or skin. In this state she begins to wait for the cigarette smoke to vanish.

Closing in on her infinite hands. Her fingers are the most delicate, whose paleness contrasts to that of the redness of her nail polish. Dashes of crimson floods her cuticles, like sunrise’s murder. In the early afternoon, her fingers are shaky, but still ultimately diligent at tapping excess ash. And excess coldness.

I would say her fingers are solemnly waiting for the return of warmth. Her fingers, her fingers are so godlike.

And in this state, he found himself stalking her hands, almost probing into every fold of her skin and stealing the smell of smoke permeating on her thumb and pointer. Infinitely, her fingers will shake, and tap away the last few remnants of his ashen memory.

why? because its always been you..

Dearest,

This is like getting an able hand severed; forgetting the keys to my room, words, my way to home, your face. I am once again unable to write and die little deaths.

This is like going back to kindergarten. At recess, I have to fight with the other children over who gets to have a go at the slide or the swing first, or who gets to seesaw with whom. I remember the play wounds, the way they bleed into horrible scars. Scars, the damage of which I carry (with pride?) to adulthood, the very things that make me remember that I was once happy and free, the things that make me regret being so reckless and criminal.

In more ways, this is like a sin so severe it is punishable by death or banishment to a world devoid of color, feeling, you. This is like drowning in guilt after getting drunk with it. How I love losing control over my body, my tongue, my senses, and how I kick myself moments after waking up with an atrocious migraine attack. I both love and hate it, like when I love waking up in mornings knowing you are here somewhere, and/or hating it because even if you are here, I still cannot reach you.

This is like riding a bus with no money for fare, or watching cheesy movies and blaming myself for being so mundane. This is like you telling me to wait, and me telling you that I’ve done all I could to have you even if I haven’t.

You are somebody else’s, and this is like death, not the kind of death I’m willing to do over and again. This is like the genocide in Auschwitz and Cambodia. This is agony without reason.

You are somebody else’s, and this is like getting my able hand severed with a butter knife. This is like forgetting my childhood. This is like everything I want to erase, every memory, every scar, every sin, every pain. This is like wanting to delete you like junk mail. This is everything I don’t want to have because I cannot afford to have them.

Remembrance. This is like being unable to write and die little deaths everyday for you. This is like saying I love you out loud, and wishing that you’ll hold my hand this morning and hereafter.

(This is like me making no sense at all because of you.)

I could have given you everything: the dorky smile, a bottle stopper, a piece of the sky. I could have given you the kind of love you need, and the mornings after when we decided to wait on each other. I could have given you no room to stop and think. I could have made you love me.

You could be here, holding my hand and telling me to stop being an ass (something that you always used to tell me because I am). You could be everything that I hoped for, that thing that will make me drown in the calm waves of wakefulness. You could have loved me.

They say I should forget, slay the memories that I have of you when you are at your most serene. Or maybe I should have just stopped waiting on you to tell me that the mornings, our mornings would be glorious because we have each other.

I’ve been remiss. I should forget you. Someday or in another morning.

Someday...

honesty hurts, sometimes.

Rays shriek through windowpanes, like canopies in my beguiled oculuses one misty morning. A crisp cheekiness anticipating a new day as I dwell onto the callousness of my breathing. I stood up watching leaves fall on their recuperating trees like witnessing the climax of an autumn tree emancipating its tiddler. Freedom – finally. Blue skies dance in some euphoric tune, annihilating the downpour of torrent bought upon the world yesterday. Birds move rapidly steaming out in little apertures of loud twittering channeling, welcoming the new day. Another splendiferous morning.

Yet, why am I desperately nostalgic? Sulked up, fraught with extreme unhappiness, almost nearly hopeless. Why do I sit all day waiting for rainy nights to come? Lurking in the darkness that conceals the room, looking out on raindrops thinking as if it were my tears.

I had it in me, the girl who once believed in fairy tales, thinking it like a rippled branch and smelled of spring flowers. The princes that’ll sweep me off my feet, the fairies that’ll subsidize my dispositions, and the girl who waited incessantly for butterflies believing it were some magical fantasy that cascades stardust and glittering golden powder. My ceaseless dream – imagination unrestricted by reality.

Then the worse came, I grew up. Awaken by the voices of unpleasantly stern reality. Truth hurts. The adroit thoughts of fairy godmothers vouching magic wands in your purportedly gleaming white ball dress, the effervescent notion of fortune cabbaging with tooth fairies, the easiness of their impalpable benignity that makes my heart beat as loud as my breath was quiet.

The battering and beating now was lost – no more heart. All I have now is this thing inside my chest that pumps blood. Now tell me, if living is a process, then how does one arrive anywhere except by just such painful routes?

Perverted furious politicians in white barongs now supersede princes. Tickling crocodiles are replaced with perpetual endangering of whales. And coiled unborn fetus in lucid mayonnaise jars now supplants Peter Pan.

The harshness of reality stashes away the child in you. There’s no room for fairy tales in life, only actuality.

What you don’t know won’t hurt you. Whoever said these is probably in his state of mental numbness. Lies hurt too, but reality – honesty, hurts even more.

the unbearable lightness of boredom (..irony of fish crackers and regina spektor)

As far as I or anyone can tell, they're made from nothing more than starch, with minute hints of salt and pepper depending on the brand you pick. Of course the cheap plastic bag it comes in, lists a stew of other ingredients (well, chemicals really), purporting to add a semblance of taste to the popular snack. But the claim may prove an understated hyperbole. Fish crackers, if anything are infused with the unmistakable flavor of the cardboard.

Eating fish crackers is like munching solid air. You get a "sensation of sorts" at first: lips discern texture, nostrils detect a shy odor, teeth cuts through what is perceived as solid matter. And yet -and here's the conundrum- both the brain and the stomach are aware, with a conspirational smugness between them, that there's nothing there. The buds transmit no taste; the innards have no calories to absorb. A bag of fish crackers is an edible mirage.

Though an addictive one at that. Fish crackers compliment beer. Fish crackers go side-by-side with a bowl of assorted peanuts. Fish crackers go well with most types of juices and soft drinks. Second only to potato chips, fish crackers are the snack of choice to a clear majority - to be idly dipped in vinegar and munched until the bag is empty and our disquieting desire steps in and asks for more.

Why? Why is this so, you ponder? You rattle your brain and exhaust your imagination, forcing both to yield answers doomed to be dissatisfying. Then comes the point where curiousity, exhausted and frustrated, must yield to categorize the allure of Fish Crackers as an enigma, one of human civilization's grand mysteries, like the exact recipe for Coke.

Still, if the working dynamics of the fish cracker eludes, the impulse behind the need to understand is discernible.

Considering the myriad of concerns a normal human being is made to confront, WHY SHOULD WE CARE? Why should we care about the supposed lack of taste of fish crackers and their (Oh, ironies of ironies!) addictive appeal. Why go through the trouble of even stating a non-consequential problem? Why write and rant about and waste other people's time?

Well, we shouldn't care, really. Or more specifically, i shouldn't. Its just that, I'M BORED!

When you're bored, the mundane exudes an element of mystery that generates an authentic sense of wonder. A "wonder-ment" that either leads you to madness or to wallow, habitually, in self-pity.

When you're bored, you begin to notice things that were previously dismissed as commonplace or beneath the dignity of full-scale attention. The smell of naval lint, the odd shape of a toe, Kris Aquino's various facial ticks when she badly pretends to be excited in her game show and yes, fish cracker mysteries.

When you're bored, you tend to find things which have long surpassed the urgency of their need. Once favorite pens turn at the oddest of places, old high school pictures, and that collared pink shirt (now undersize) with flattering appeal.

When you're bored, you begin to exercise that dormant ability to philosophize. ("Would it make a difference if i were born a day earlier?" Yes, i would have asked this yesterday.)

And sooner you think, when you're bored, you conjure up means to amuse yourself or while away the time. For one thing, you know you're bored when you start sending out inconsequential surveys to friends, and people you just want to annoy.

And other thing besides. The other week, i watched all Regina Spektor videos available. At some point, probably after the fourth or fifth instance I've notice the cleverly placed Spektor's cameos, Regina's songs becomes eclectic enough to elevate her status, at least in my view, from sheer lucky to a bona fide artist. Why? Because on a day when boredom has reduced me to putrid level of a fan, she has demonstrated the healing power of art.

Art quells boredom by substituting idleness with the comforts of senselessness.

environmental cliche

( ..this is after watching Inconvenient Truth of Al Gore and 11th Hour of Leonardo de Caprio cause Mama once told me never to write anything until you know something. tama ba Ma? hehe and believe me, this will bore you hahaha )

in our crowded archipelago, the competition for space has become increasingly intense. allocating land just for garbage seems an awful waste and extremely inefficient. incineration, the enclosed, high-heat burning adopted in many advanced societies, could have been a more efficient method in terms of space. but that option was canceled out by the Clean Air Act, after focused lobbying by environmental activists concerned about incineration's hazardous emissions.

with options for centralized waste disposal running out, it has become fairly clear that only decentralized approaches are becoming feasible—barangay or municipal collection and recycling schemes, community composting, and the like. these would need to be combined with public drives, even government incentives, to buy and use less packaged consumer items. this effort would have to be effective enough to counter the overwhelming influence of advertising.

but there is little potential profit and graft in such approaches. what then is to greatly motivate public officials to change course?

even if they were persuaded, it wouldn't be easy. it would require community meetings and systems management, even door-to-door campaigning to influence individual behavior. this kind of effort in any community could easily be on the scale of, well, an election campaign. then again, someone capable of the logistics and management challenge of a well-oiled electoral campaign should be able to run a grassroots garbage reform drive. As in any election, the battleground for this type of campaign is the hearts and minds of millions of individual decision-makers.

i realized the problem of trash was just as much at its source as it was in its final dumping ground. for every so-called "consumer" after all, there is an individual producer of trash. whatever goes into a household will eventually come out in one form or another. it could either destroy someone else's life or it could destroy yours or mine.

the process that leads to such visions of hell in Antipolo or in Smokey Mountain (who could forget) usually starts in clean, orderly homes. like most household trash producers, we had no idea where our garbage ended up after it was picked up by the basureros. our simple observation that most people had an "out of sight, out of mind" attitude about their garbage applied to us as well.

unlike any other issues more serious than this (is there?), the garbage crisis (not only in congested metro manila but also in different cities all over the archipelago) is something all of us had contributed to directly. we ARE paying the price of abusing nature with global warming, change in weather (or climate) which the people in Africa are the ones who is first (and most) affected, ironically, despite the fact that they are the least contributor of pollution.


nevertheless, one should lessen the expense of using plastics, smoking, etc. REUSE, REDUCE and RECYCLE. cliche as it may sound but its the least we can do to help nature and ourselves.

yes, there's more to life!

the tyranny of the teenage absurdity must end! this world has become a post-puberty wasteland of youngsters playing, in essence, adult. Not the adult, synonym to maturity type but to an adult who's yes to beer drinking til morning and were-so-cool-we-should-do-this kind of way and wasting their lives. but really, i have nothing against teenagers like that since most of my friends seem to be on that side of the society hahaha!

so, okay lemme get this straight, I'M NO MS. PERFECT! i drink, i smoke (sort of, i kinda quit last month) and I'm bisexual. but people who tend to overlook much important things and focus on what he/she only wants to see are the people who should be dead! HAHAHAHA! seriously, even if we have only one life to live we should not neglect matters that are also consequential AND essential to THE full circle.

Lindsay Lohan wanna be's are popping up like annoying pimples across the dial. You're lucky to even get a glimpse at a real grown-up these days. Teeners are always trying to look preposterously cool and magnificently well-spoken (they're trying to be). In fact, they are much more childish than their Dragon Ball Z counterparts. To be a teen nowadays is to act like 30 (or something like that), be masterful at emotional situations and glorious one-line put-downs, act like you know everything (ahh! the know-it-alls), dress resplendently, look gorgeous and be surrounded by dumb parents who just don't get it, and Homer Simpson-like teachers.
So, okay, i know I'm not making sense at all. hehe. All I'm saying is with all the poverty, injustice, political irregularities and struggles, I'm pretty sure there's more to life than killer heels and rebonds and ipods and laptops. We just need to look around and look far dude, as far as Africa ^_^

the only thing i learned in 17 years, the only thing: it may took us so long to learn that the answer to life is found in such a simple place. we really don't need tornadoes and crashing houses to know it. we just need to look into our hearts. OWWWKAY, THAT SOUNDED CHEESY! hahaha

well, what do i know right? i guess I'm just depress over turning 18 months from now plus i think I'm gay, i mean REALLY gay! talk about revealing too much information HAHAHA sorry jeff! (and he knows) ;-p