Symptoms of Cretinism

I’ve always been a big fan of the play—the way it is dynamic and alive (both figuratively and literally), the way it involves the audience in every step and song and dance and line, the way the actor’s voices aren’t just from speakers (Dolby or not, real life is still the best), and the way the scenes aren’t just the best parts cut out and put together in editing from a long timeline of takes one to one hundred. That being said, I must confess that I haven’t been to a play in ages—the last one, if I remember correctly, was way back in college, and was about a closet gay stuntman whose number one idol in the whole world was Ariel the Little Mermaid. After, academics, girlfriends, breakups, heartaches, Ragnarok and DOTA, and a part-time job got in the way, so I never got to watch another. I was able to finally rectify that last Friday, thanks to the indomitable Conrad, cartoonist and graphic artist extraordinaire (albeit a very frustrated one), who was kind enough to supply me with a fre...

It is human nature, I guess, that we are constantly dissatisfied with what we have. Even during the times fate does give us better circumstances, it is not uncommon for us to see, much less appreciate, how better off we are. It’s always the “should have been” and “what could be better” things that preoccupy us. We are hardly ever satisfied. I guess there’s something in that phenomenon that explains the increasing callousness and lack of attention we have for the people around us as time goes by. We constantly mull over their mistakes, weaknesses and shortcomings, and it is only when they’ve gone—oftentimes for good—that we say wholeheartedly that he or she was a good person, that his or her heart was without peer in its purity and kindness. Only then we say that we wish we were more understanding, more accepting, more adjustable, more loving. Only then do we apologize for our insensitivity, only then do we realize how we’ve failed them, how WE could have done them better, and only then...

Tagged by Avi. Rules: 1. Mention the person who tagged you and create a link back to them. 2. Copy-paste the traits for all the twelve months (see below). 3. Pick your month of birth. 4. Highlight the traits that apply to you. 5. Tag 12 people and let them know by visiting their blogs and leaving a comment for them. 6. Let the person who tagged you know when you’ve done it! I was born in: APRIL: Active and dynamic. Decisive and hasty but tends to regret. Attractive and affectionate to oneself. Strong mentality. Loves attention. Diplomatic. Consoling, friendly and solves people’s problems. Brave and fearless. Adventurous. Loving and caring. Suave and generous. Emotional. Aggressive. Hasty. Good memory. Moving. Motivates oneself and others. Sickness usually of the head and chest. Sexy in a way that only their lover can see. Aaaaannnnddddd..... THERE IS NOTHING IN THIS HERE LISTED TRAITS THAT I THINK APPLIES TO ME. Pfft. Unfortunately, I've no people to tag, but if you're a ...

I haven't looked forward to payday as much I do today. That's what happens when there's only an un-withdrawable 80 pesos left in my ATM and a measly 200 in my wallet. And that's all I have left for food (food, glorious food!) and transportation until tomorrow. The situation has become so dramatially dire that while eating lunch this noon, I seriously considered walking all the way home. I am that destitute. And when tomorrow does come, the ATM downstairs is probably going to go bonkers again, which means that I have to pay an extra 11 pesos to withdraw from another ATM. UCPB sucks. Damn you, agent of the Matrix! I can't even think straight. I have 5 (or more) articles I have to write from scratch, but everytime I try to write, instead of coherent sentences, something more akin to mush comes out--thank goodness the deadline's still a few days away. Ah, I totally suck. @_@ Only Chuck Norris rules (see below). LOL. ========= Some fast facts about the great Chuck N...

The good: - Very spiffy-looking interface and graphics. - Customization galore! - Easier to understand system functions. The bad: - the dreaded "Vista Pause"--which effectively renders void all the good things. Ampf.

The Five Love Languages My primary love language is probably Physical Touch with a secondary love language being Quality Time . Complete set of results Physical Touch: 10 Quality Time: 8 Acts of Service: 7 Words of Affirmation: 4 Receiving Gifts: 1 Information Unhappiness in relationships, according to Dr. Gary Chapman, is often due to the fact that we speak different love languages. Sometimes we don't understand our partner's requirements, or even our own. We all have a "love tank" that needs to be filled in order for us to express love to others, but there are different means by which our tank can be filled, and there are different ways that we can express love to others. Take the quiz

Words are flying out like endless rain into a paper cup They slither while they pass They slip away across the universe Pools of sorrow waves of joy are drifting thorough my open mind Possessing and caressing me Beatles songs are playing themselves in my head, and I don't know if that's a good thing. These past few days I've gone from frustrated and sad and back at my inability to finish the story I want to submit to the Fully Booked competition. There, I said it for all the world to read. You might think that a bit presumptuous on my part--to want to submit a story to a big competition like that--but all I really want to do is write a good, complete, and readable story that isn't about love, and maybe, just maybe--the kind that's look-to-the-heavens-and-hope-to-God kind of maybe--win some cash in the process. Thoughts meander like a restless wind inside a letter box they tumble blindly as they make their way across the universe But writing has proven to be a labori...

I’ve talked to her constantly all this time, and she does not answer. It’s been what, three, four, five days already? I’ve lost track of time, sitting here beside her. I don’t know the last time I ate something. I think I’ve even forgotten how it feels to be hungry. The sadness, the tragedy of it all hangs over me like a death sentence—like being on the platform, hands behind my back, kneeling and waiting for the guillotine to fall. The void inside me knaws at itself, swallowing up everything around it, little by little. I watch her as she sleeps, delicate and beautiful, calm. The three inch cut on her head and the corresponding stitches are decidedly out of place—jagged and crude things in a field of smooth, brown skin. I’ve talked to her all this time, and she does not answer. Can she hear me? Does she know I’m here? I remember all our fights. Every single one. The one where I forgot our anniversary; the one where I got home drunk from an after office party and forgot to tell her; th...

Going through my crappy stock of finished and unfinished written stuff, looking for something decent to put down here, I came across this. It's in Filipino, which I am not particularly good at, so you'll (yes you, my dear imaginary reader) have to excuse its shabbiness; besides the fact that I wrote this waaaaaaayyy back in high school for a Filipino class. Its also quite long, so to whomever finds the time to finish it all, thanks very much. ^__^ ============= 5:00 ng umaga. Ginising ako ng malakas na yugyug ng kapatid ko. “Kuya, gising na!” Ako naman, sariwa pa sa aking mahimbing na tulog, ay naguuunat pa at humikab bago tuluyang bumangon. Dumiretso agad ako sa hapag kainan kung saan sinalubong ako ng isang mesang walang laman. “Wala pa bang pagkain dyan?” tanong ko. “Obyus ba?” ang inis na sagot sa akin. “E, mahuhuli na ako sa klase eh.” “Edi ikaw ang magluto ng sarili mong pagkain.” Ano ba namang buhay yan! Nagtatanong lang ako kung may pagkain na, ayun, nagalit agad. Ayaw ...

Hay. I realize that I haven't been able to come up with something concrete these past few weeks, settling instead for the occasional song, or picture series ripped off from the net, or some crappy self-made poem. This is all owing of course, to the fact that I have been slave-driven these past few weeks by that unholy and stupid person I refuse to name, but if you know me, I'm sure you know who she is. She is also the reason why I am at the office today, despite the fact that my stomach is doing multiple summersaults at regular intervals--needless to say, a completely unpleasant feeling when you're chained to a desk from 9 to 6:45. That her face is nauseating doesn't help one bit either. I'm just glad that she just hired a new toy--and is gleefully wearing him down--instead of directing her annoyingly repetitive and idiotic ideas and mispronounced English at me. 'FOCOS' daw oh. Ah, crap, there goes my tummy again. ========== On a lighter note, I haven't ...

Gray Room Damien Rice Well I've been here before Sat on the floor in a grey grey room Where I stay in all day I don't eat, but I play with this grey grey food Desole, if someone is prayin' then I might break out, Desole, even if I scream I can't scream that loud I'm all alone again Crawling back home again Stuck by the phone again Well I've been here before Sat on a floor in a grey grey mood Where I stay up all night And all that I write is a grey grey tune So pray for me child, just for a while That I might break out yeah Pray for me child Even a smile would do for now 'Cause I'm all alone again Crawling back home again Stuck by the phone again Have I still got you to be my open door Have I still got you to be my sandy shore Have I still got you to cross my bridge in this storm Have I still got you to keep me warm If I squeeze my grape and I drink my wine Coz if I squeeze my grape and I drink my wine Oh coz nothing is lost, it's just frozen in frost...

From www.despair.com: Except that they aren't available in the Philippines. Ampf.

'Langyang buhay 'to oo. Maubusan ba naman ako ng tickets para sa Avenue Q. Tsk. Kung hindi ka ba naman mapamura talaga.

The light shine on you, and may you shelter in the palm of the Creator's hand. We'll miss you RJ, and the story that you've told so well.

I’m imagining looking out the window of a bus traveling at 60 Seeing nothing but the blur of things passed by, silhouettes of people and places. Maybe this is a song, or something else; A prayer to whomever can hear. I sing of misfortunes and sadness, and pray for a happiness I can wrap my head around on. There’s a song playing in my head, I just can’t sing it; There’s a prayer in my heart, with words I cannot say. Like looking out of a bus traveling at 60, Songs are blur, And prayers are merely silhouettes of what they really are. It’s heavy, this journey of twist and turns and dead ends Under a sky of grey.

It's Monday again, which is not my particularly favorite day of the week, and I am in dire need of a stress ball. I thank God for small favors like a thoughtful SMS from my favorite person, good anime, and the soundtrack from Hairspray that I have blaring on my earphones (in between anime episodes) in an attempt to tune out all of today's crap. I'm tempted to jump the bandwagon again ang start ranting against fratmen, arrogant UP students, people who can't tell the difference between a legitimate piece of opinion and outright bigotry, and in life in general, just to let some steam out. (sigh)

Apparently, Malu Fernandez has not resigned, and is writing again under the Manila Standard Today. Hence the spiffy online banner below. I knew it. You can't change bad breeding overnight. Malu Fernandez is no different from that asshole who mowed down 3 students in a drunken stupor in UP in broad daylight a couple of years ago; or the people who kill in the name of "brotherhood" and "character building"--they all just get off with hardly a pat on the back, and then it's back to the same old. She whines about getting insulted, never mind that she was the one who provoked such widespread outrage in the first place by insulting honest, hardworking people who never did anything bad to her and whose only fault was to wear perfume that was cheaper than hers. When you punch a guy in the face--even if you say it was only in jest--would you expect him to just take it and smile back at you? She is a "have", I give her that. "Haves" always get away...

It's frustrating, that's what. I want to write, but I can't. I have a few ideas in my head, but I can't seem to get a hold of them completely--one moment I feel like I've gotten it down, but when I actually sit down and write, only horseshit comes out. It's frustrating, that's what. I hate that I have a job--no, correction, I hate it that I can't afford not to have a job--and just lock myself away in some quiet place with my books and a laptop (which I also cannot afford right now, even with my job) and just read and write the days away. (At this point I'd start writing about how joyful my job is, but somebody might see.) It's just all so utterly and absolutely frustrating.

Ikaw U-Turn Ikaw... hangad ko ay makita Ikaw... tibok ng puso ko ay Ikaw... ang pinipintig at kinahihiligan ko ay Ikaw... Ikaw... pag gising sa umaga'y Ikaw... umabot man ang hapon Ikaw... ang iniisip kahit na maidlip panaginip Ikaw... Anong gayuma ba ang Ginamit mo at biglang nagbago (nagbagong mundo kong walang) Mundong walang tanglaw Ay nasikatan ng araw na Ikaw... (tanging ikaw) Ikaw... wala na ngang iba pang Ikaw... at magpakailanman ay Ikaw... ang kapiling at mamahalin pagkat buha'y ko'y Ikaw... Anong gayuma ba ang Ginamit mo at biglang nagbago (nagbagong mundo kong walang) Mundong walang tanglaw Ay nasikatan ng araw na Ikaw... Ikaw tanging Ikaw ang iniisip Ang panaginip Tanging ikaw... Ano pa bang nais mo Sa isang tulad kong baliw sayo (pusong baliw sayo) Wala nang hihigit pa Sa pagibig na tanging mithi Sa aking damdamin Na ang layunin ay... Ikaw... ================ Hay. Limang araw pa lang, nagkekeso na ako. Mahina.

In the interest of being fair and showing all sides of the story (I am a journalist, after all), here's the apology sent out by Malu Fernandez: Statement from Malu Fernandez on the OFW controversy Friday, August 24, 2007 "I am humbled by the vehement and heated response provoked by my article entitled 'From Boracay to Greece!' which came out in the June 2007 issue of People Asia. To say that this article was not meant to malign, hurt or express prejudice against the OFWs now sounds hollow after reading through all the blogs from Filipinos all over the world. I am deeply apologetic for my insensitivity and the offensive manner in which this article was written, I hear you all and I am properly rebuked. IT was truly not my intention to malign hurt or express prejudice against OFWs. As the recent recipient and target of death threats, hate blogs, and deeply personal insults, I now truly understand the insidiousness of discrimination and prejudice disguised as humor. Our s...