I pause before entering, greeted by the sight of old women selling candles, flowers, and prayers, and little children scavenging for the wax of melted candles. It has been a year since I have been here. A year since I last went through these gates, a year since I last gazed on his name carved on his tombstone, a year since I last lit candles in his memory.
As i walk the pathways of the cemetery, I see names and dates of birth and death. R.I.P. in memory of Juan de la Cruz, born 19xx, died 200x, remembrance from his loving family. I noticed that some had lived to a ripe old age, some died while still in the prime of their life, while others did not even reach a year, the light of consciousness never dawning upon their minds. Then I wonder, what were their lives? What were their stories? Did they live wretched and obscure lives or lives honorable and worthy of mention? How did they die? Did they die a glorious and heroic death or did they die slowly and painfully on a hospital bed? Were they able to prepare and come to terms with their own death or did death come to them unexpectedly like thief in the night?
Then I am reminded that soon enough, I too shall suffer their fate. Maybe fifty years from now, maybe next year, maybe tomorrow, but for certain, my name is will find its way on one of those tombstones. It's a scary thought for sure, but I have long resigned myself to it. Some may argue that, hey, we really shouldn't be scared 'cause we've already had plenty of experience being dead, for before we were born, we were all dead. Sure, the argument may make some sense, but once you get a taste of what life is, being dead is just, well, scary. We may all try our darndest (sometimes even to the point of delusion) to believe in an after life, or in reincarnation, or in whatever you believe in, but the only thing we can be certain about is this. That when we do leave this earth, the one thing left of us would simply be a memory. The thought does not comfort me. I continue walking.
I finally reach his tomb. My stepfather's. It's a bit too shabby, to say the least, almost blackend by the dust and the soot of candles. I had hired the services of one of the clean up boys in the cemetery, to rid the the tomb of its rubbish, repaint the lettering with gold and give it a fresh coat of white paint. I almost balk at his price, but i'd rather let him do the job, and it is his season anyway, so I pay up.
The boy does his job quite meticulously, almost in a very caring and loving manner. First he wipes the soot and grime off with a rag soaked in acid, and then very skillfully restores the lettering on the tomb in gold paint. He then takes out his little can of white paint and proceeds to very carefully apply a new coating of white, making sure that it does not go beyond the borders of the tombstone.
As I watch the boy clean up the tomb, a question comes to my mind. I had not grown to love my stepfather. I even have a slight degree of contempt for him, having witnessed some of the weaknesses and flaws in his character. But he is dead now, and it is not up to me to judge, as I too am human. He had come so suddenly into me and my mother's lives, and so suddenly he was taken away, so I had not known who he really was.
So, the question. I had not grown to love him, and yet still, every year, I come back. why?
Is it out of a simple respect for my mother's wishes? Maybe. Oh, how my mother had loved him, inspite of everything. I myself didn't get it (and up to now, I still don't). But hey, when it comes to love, people don't usually think right, right? I've read somewhere that falling in love is the closest thing we ordinary people can get to insanity. But even if I think my mother was insane for choosing someone like him, that does not get over the fact that she is my mother. And as a son who loves and respects here, I obey. So I come. Yet somehow I feel it is something else, something deeper.
Then it occurs to me. Could this be why I had been asking all those questions as I passed all those other tombs? Could it be because of my fear that some sort of karma will hit me, that I too when I die will be another forgotten name in an obscure tomb in some public cemetery, unknown and unremembered?
Is this the reason then that we all flock to the cemeteries in this season of candles and remembrances? So that in the passing of the years, as people continue to remember their dead, we too might be remembered after we die? Oh, how hard it is to contemplate being forgotten. All our achievements, all our hardships, everything we have ever been or done would seem to be for naught. So in the face of this reality so hard to swallow, are we merely holding on to this tradition as if it were some sort of security blanket from our fear of being forgotten? For when we are forgotten by the living, then that is when we are truly dead.
Then I remember something I read from one of neil gaiman's sandman books. "What do the dead care what happens to them? Eh? They're dead. All the trappings of death are for the living. It is the final reconciliation. The last farewell." Indeed.
Thus next year, I will come back. And the year after that, and the year after, assuming that I am still alive. I will keep on coming back, as we all have been doing, generation after generation. For it is not just for our dead, it is for us too.
Thursday, November 03, 2005
Friday, October 07, 2005
ethereal encounters
my thoughts are like rain, falling to the ground making puddles, as i struggle to form the words. a kind of madness has enveloped me, shaking me to the core, to the foundations of my existence. the sun rises and sets, the tides rise and ebb, the moon waxes and wanes, yet i find there is something amiss in the cycles of the cosmos, something missing.
long have i wandered the streets in search for it, through the backways and sidestreets, in the long winding corridors of the city, yet at the end of the day i come back empty. i ponder what it is i am searching for.
then in the distance, in the emptiness of night, an apparition, whose radiance fills it to overflowing. a curious awe fills me, as i slowly make my approach, like a moth seduced by the flame. there i discover a daughter of the deities.
she greets me by my first name, which stuns me with wonder. who am i, an ordinary mortal, for her to call by name? surely she must be a gift from the heavens. i am dumbstruck, for my speech has left me.
she reveals to me wonders and mysteries that i can only dream of. she made me realize that there are powers beyond what we can see and touch. she made me realize what forces move this world and make life, painful and insignificant as it may seem, still possible.
alas, all good things come to an end. she goes on her way, and i on mine. yet this meeting, no matter how brief, has echoed throughout the vastness of eternity, and it shall be carved permanently into my memories.
...
to her
the object of my silent desires
the yearning of my innermost being
of whom my dreams have set on the highest of thrones
and inhabited my thoughts and my senses
these words i write for you
long have i wandered the streets in search for it, through the backways and sidestreets, in the long winding corridors of the city, yet at the end of the day i come back empty. i ponder what it is i am searching for.
then in the distance, in the emptiness of night, an apparition, whose radiance fills it to overflowing. a curious awe fills me, as i slowly make my approach, like a moth seduced by the flame. there i discover a daughter of the deities.
she greets me by my first name, which stuns me with wonder. who am i, an ordinary mortal, for her to call by name? surely she must be a gift from the heavens. i am dumbstruck, for my speech has left me.
she reveals to me wonders and mysteries that i can only dream of. she made me realize that there are powers beyond what we can see and touch. she made me realize what forces move this world and make life, painful and insignificant as it may seem, still possible.
alas, all good things come to an end. she goes on her way, and i on mine. yet this meeting, no matter how brief, has echoed throughout the vastness of eternity, and it shall be carved permanently into my memories.
...
to her
the object of my silent desires
the yearning of my innermost being
of whom my dreams have set on the highest of thrones
and inhabited my thoughts and my senses
these words i write for you
Monday, October 03, 2005
the sound of a thousand pigs in the slaughter house
i may have one of the worst neighborhoods anyone could ever live in. every weekend, the whole place is filled with the sound of what i can only compare to that made by a thousand pigs being slaughtered. if you're a filipino, yes, i think you know what i mean. i bet your neighborhood has been infested too, at least once, by this scourge of humanity, this evil, evil device only the devil could have invented, the karaoke, and its more modern incarnation, the ktv.
if you think hearing gloria saying "hello garci" is enough to make you sick, wait till you hear my drunk, potbellied neighbors' version of a classic karaoke standard, frank sinatra's "my way". i feel only one word is able to describe their rendition more fully, disturbing. the vexation resulting from their infernal howling is enough to make me want to burn the whole neighborhood down. i think i'd rather be a refugee than be subjected to this inhumanity.
to give justice to the song, i bet even mr sinatra would rise from the grave to try to scare them back to their senses. i can almost hear him say, "the nerve! how dare they murder my song!"
man, the karaoke should be outlawed by the geneva convention. the karaoke can be considered as a weapon of mass destruction, you know. thus, it can be covered by the articles of war.
hey, mr. kofi annan, sir, are you listening? this is a matter of world peace. you should have taken this up in the last UN general assembly.
hey, mr george bush, sir, if you're still sending troops running around in the deserts of iraq looking for weapons of mass destruction, you better come here to the philippines. there's a bunch of terrorists here in my neighborhood.
this karaoke thing has taken over the whole country in ways the abu sayyaf or the npa could never even dream of. today the philippines, tomorrow the world. i shudder at the thought.
but i have to admit, i too have once been on the dark side. and i enjoyed it. now ladies and gentlemen of the jury, before you condemn me to death by karaoke, allow me to plead my case. it was only once you know, during my company's last summer outing. our damned room didn't have any airconditioning, and there were a lot of mosquitoes, so i couldn't sleep. there was no more beer, the bar was already closed. so i had no choice but to spend the rest of the night singing myself hoarse till sun up. but at least everybody else was either too drunk or safely fast asleep to hear my wailing, so, no harm done right? at least i don't do it every bloody weekend for the whole damn neighborhood to hear. not guilty.
if you think hearing gloria saying "hello garci" is enough to make you sick, wait till you hear my drunk, potbellied neighbors' version of a classic karaoke standard, frank sinatra's "my way". i feel only one word is able to describe their rendition more fully, disturbing. the vexation resulting from their infernal howling is enough to make me want to burn the whole neighborhood down. i think i'd rather be a refugee than be subjected to this inhumanity.
to give justice to the song, i bet even mr sinatra would rise from the grave to try to scare them back to their senses. i can almost hear him say, "the nerve! how dare they murder my song!"
man, the karaoke should be outlawed by the geneva convention. the karaoke can be considered as a weapon of mass destruction, you know. thus, it can be covered by the articles of war.
hey, mr. kofi annan, sir, are you listening? this is a matter of world peace. you should have taken this up in the last UN general assembly.
hey, mr george bush, sir, if you're still sending troops running around in the deserts of iraq looking for weapons of mass destruction, you better come here to the philippines. there's a bunch of terrorists here in my neighborhood.
this karaoke thing has taken over the whole country in ways the abu sayyaf or the npa could never even dream of. today the philippines, tomorrow the world. i shudder at the thought.
but i have to admit, i too have once been on the dark side. and i enjoyed it. now ladies and gentlemen of the jury, before you condemn me to death by karaoke, allow me to plead my case. it was only once you know, during my company's last summer outing. our damned room didn't have any airconditioning, and there were a lot of mosquitoes, so i couldn't sleep. there was no more beer, the bar was already closed. so i had no choice but to spend the rest of the night singing myself hoarse till sun up. but at least everybody else was either too drunk or safely fast asleep to hear my wailing, so, no harm done right? at least i don't do it every bloody weekend for the whole damn neighborhood to hear. not guilty.
Thursday, September 29, 2005
smells like martial law
president gloria is starting to really creep me out. first she had the policy of "calibrated preemptive response" against rallyists, which had the militants and leftists declaring it as a violation of human rights. then the plan to take over vital industries had businessmen running scared. now she has executive order no. 464, which is basically a challenge against congress, or the senate in particular, which is currently investigating the controversies involving malacanang like the wiretapping scandal, the venable deal, and northrail project. she may not call it martial law, but it sure smells like martial law to me.
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
ode to bobot candy
bobot, oh bobot
where art thou?
thy sugary sweetness
thy peanuty goodness
three pieces of heaven
wrapped in plastic
thou has sweetened
countless childhood days
where art thou?
thy sugary sweetness
thy peanuty goodness
three pieces of heaven
wrapped in plastic
thou has sweetened
countless childhood days
Monday, September 12, 2005
manny pacquiao kicks ass!!!
paquiao wins! wooohooo!!! not just that, the 2 other pinoys in the bout also won! at last, some good news after months of getting nothing but crap from political scandals.
the day i heard about the fight, i had a bad feeling deep in my gut that he'd lose this one. a lot of people were saying that this fight would be an easy one for him. but guess what, people were saying the same thing about the pacquiao vs. morales bout, see how it ended.
good thing the bout didn't last long. i don't think pacquiao has a particularly stellar record with bouts that go the distance, considering his loss to morales and his draw against marquez.
unfortunately though, for pacquiao, morales lost to zahir raheem. that would make his coming rematch against morales sort of pointless. who would want to beat a loser? wait, if eric morales is a loser, and pacquiao lost to morales, then what does that make pacquiao? hehehe just joking...
on a sidenote, what on earth is manny doing starring in his own movie (co-starring the bold stars aubrey miles and juliana palermo and the very jurrasic looking eddie garcia)? does that mean that even a world famous boxer like him also has aspirations of becoming an artista? or is this just a sideline for him, some sort of plan b, in case something happens to his boxing career? everybody just wants to be a star, i guess. this reminds me of onyok velasco. remember him? whatever happened to onyok velasco anyway?
the day i heard about the fight, i had a bad feeling deep in my gut that he'd lose this one. a lot of people were saying that this fight would be an easy one for him. but guess what, people were saying the same thing about the pacquiao vs. morales bout, see how it ended.
good thing the bout didn't last long. i don't think pacquiao has a particularly stellar record with bouts that go the distance, considering his loss to morales and his draw against marquez.
unfortunately though, for pacquiao, morales lost to zahir raheem. that would make his coming rematch against morales sort of pointless. who would want to beat a loser? wait, if eric morales is a loser, and pacquiao lost to morales, then what does that make pacquiao? hehehe just joking...
on a sidenote, what on earth is manny doing starring in his own movie (co-starring the bold stars aubrey miles and juliana palermo and the very jurrasic looking eddie garcia)? does that mean that even a world famous boxer like him also has aspirations of becoming an artista? or is this just a sideline for him, some sort of plan b, in case something happens to his boxing career? everybody just wants to be a star, i guess. this reminds me of onyok velasco. remember him? whatever happened to onyok velasco anyway?
Friday, September 09, 2005
PowerPoint is Evil!!! and Other Matters
PowerPoint: Killer App?
Power Corrupts. PowerPoint Corrupts Absolutely.
They have a point... and to think that we used that a lot in college...
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New entries in my photoblog!
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Meanwhile, an interesting piece of Filipino history from Ambeth Ocampo's column today on how the separation of church and state came about in the Malolos Congress:
Power Corrupts. PowerPoint Corrupts Absolutely.
They have a point... and to think that we used that a lot in college...
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New entries in my photoblog!
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Meanwhile, an interesting piece of Filipino history from Ambeth Ocampo's column today on how the separation of church and state came about in the Malolos Congress:
“Antonio Luna also became a member of Congress. There he affiliated himself with the faction that we can call Radical. This faction was formed almost spontaneously when the celebrated debates started in Congress over the separation of Church and State, the expulsion of the friars and other religious congregations from the Philippines, and the prohibition by the Constitution of the formation of new religious orders.
“The debates showed signs of dragging on forever because, although it appears strange considering the motives which started the Revolution, one-half of the members of the Congress were adherents of the friars. Eloquent speeches from each group were pronounced, but there never was a voting because both groups were afraid of the result of the balloting. Luna broke the situation with one of those tricks peculiar to his character and which made him famous later.
“He assembled all those delegates of the Radical faction who had confidence in him, advising them to keep away from the sessions of the Congress but requesting them to remain within call at a moment’s notice. With the Radicals absent, the Conservatives constituted a majority during the sessions. Having made a careful count and thinking themselves sure of victory, the Conservatives asked for a vote while the few Radicals present registered a token opposition. The motion to call a vote was carried. Then, at the precise moment of balloting, Luna immediately called all his adherents to enter the session hall en masse, to the surprise of the confident Conservatives. The voting was taken and we won, if I remember right, by one or two votes. In this manner, a provision in our Constitution for the separation of Church and State was secured."
Saturday, August 20, 2005
wisdom from the not so wise...
a revelation made during my usual morning ritual:
feelings are like shit. if you don't let them out, they won't do you any good. :P
feelings are like shit. if you don't let them out, they won't do you any good. :P
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
the weird world of pinoy politics
from news.inq7.net:
Anakpawis party-list Representative Crispin Beltran yesterday advised Mikey Arroyo to quit his post and focus on his fledgling movie career.
According to the imdb.com website, Mikey last appeared in the movies "Masamang Ugat" and "A.B. Normal," both produced in 2003. He has a forthcoming movie with Ethel Booba and a host of other congressmen titled, "Sablay ka na, Pasaway ka pa," under Cine Suerte Pictures.
at first, it was the actors who wanted to be politicians. now the politicians want to become actors too. weird. as they say, onli in da pilipins!
but when you think about it, it actually does make sense, when watching the news on pinoy politics is almost like watching "the buzz" and "s-files".
the horror...
Anakpawis party-list Representative Crispin Beltran yesterday advised Mikey Arroyo to quit his post and focus on his fledgling movie career.
According to the imdb.com website, Mikey last appeared in the movies "Masamang Ugat" and "A.B. Normal," both produced in 2003. He has a forthcoming movie with Ethel Booba and a host of other congressmen titled, "Sablay ka na, Pasaway ka pa," under Cine Suerte Pictures.
at first, it was the actors who wanted to be politicians. now the politicians want to become actors too. weird. as they say, onli in da pilipins!
but when you think about it, it actually does make sense, when watching the news on pinoy politics is almost like watching "the buzz" and "s-files".
the horror...
Monday, June 06, 2005
the lunch break monologues, or, musings on eating alone
11:55 am. i look at my pc's clock as the grumblings of my empty stomach signal that it is time for lunch. quietly, i rejoice. at last, some rest from the mind numbing torture of this earthly purgatory which i call my job. slowly, i get up and reach for my bag, and take out my packed lunch. i open it to see what's inside. ahh, fried fish and rice. very pinoy.
slowly, with my baon on one hand, i take my cup and my only spoon from my desk, and walk wearily to the pantry. all is quiet. no one is there. it seems like everybody's gone out for lunch, which means i have the pantry all to myself.
i put my baon on the table, then take my cup and spoon to the sink to wash. silently, i stare through the window and look down on the city as the midday sun pours its fiery rays upon the populace. the sun seems to be angriest just when everybody's off for a break. the irony doesn't escape me.
i take the scrubbing pad from the side of the sink, open the faucet, and wet the scrubing pad. applying a small amount of dishwashing detergent, i scrub the cup and the spoon religiously. i open the faucet again, and rinse. i rinse a second time to make sure no soap is left. then i get a weird urge to to rinse it again for a third time, just to be sure. don't be so stupid, i say to myself. could this be a sign of obsessive compulsive disorder? but that's a psychiatric disorder! no, you are not going mad, i assure myself.
i turn around to the water dispenser and fill my cup with cold water, then go back to the table. with my lunch waiting, i set the plastic box containing my food in front of me and open it. with my spoon and the finger of my left hand, i gingerly transfer the two little pieces of fried fish embedded in my rice to the cover of my little lunch box. i take my spoon, then... wait. i forgot to bring my fork again. oh well. so i start eating.
with my spoon holding the fish in place, i pinch out a little piece. then after spooning out some rice, i hungrily give myself a mouthful. i start chewing. and chewing. but something's wrong.
it doesn't taste right. it's so... bland. then i start grumbling. i should've brought some soy sauce with me. or maybe somebody else here has some soy sauce? so i search the pantry, i open the cupboards, i look in the fridge. but to no avail. i guess i'll have to content myself to eating a bland meal.
and then, eureka, an epiphany.
i suddenly get a sense that i'm somehow doing everything wrong. my fried fish tastes bland without any soy sauce. eating with a spoon feels weird without a fork. and here i am, sitting in the pantry table, eating lunch, all alone.
montaigne was right. i really shouldn't eat all by myself.
and i think i need to buy myself a new fork.
slowly, with my baon on one hand, i take my cup and my only spoon from my desk, and walk wearily to the pantry. all is quiet. no one is there. it seems like everybody's gone out for lunch, which means i have the pantry all to myself.
i put my baon on the table, then take my cup and spoon to the sink to wash. silently, i stare through the window and look down on the city as the midday sun pours its fiery rays upon the populace. the sun seems to be angriest just when everybody's off for a break. the irony doesn't escape me.
i take the scrubbing pad from the side of the sink, open the faucet, and wet the scrubing pad. applying a small amount of dishwashing detergent, i scrub the cup and the spoon religiously. i open the faucet again, and rinse. i rinse a second time to make sure no soap is left. then i get a weird urge to to rinse it again for a third time, just to be sure. don't be so stupid, i say to myself. could this be a sign of obsessive compulsive disorder? but that's a psychiatric disorder! no, you are not going mad, i assure myself.
i turn around to the water dispenser and fill my cup with cold water, then go back to the table. with my lunch waiting, i set the plastic box containing my food in front of me and open it. with my spoon and the finger of my left hand, i gingerly transfer the two little pieces of fried fish embedded in my rice to the cover of my little lunch box. i take my spoon, then... wait. i forgot to bring my fork again. oh well. so i start eating.
with my spoon holding the fish in place, i pinch out a little piece. then after spooning out some rice, i hungrily give myself a mouthful. i start chewing. and chewing. but something's wrong.
it doesn't taste right. it's so... bland. then i start grumbling. i should've brought some soy sauce with me. or maybe somebody else here has some soy sauce? so i search the pantry, i open the cupboards, i look in the fridge. but to no avail. i guess i'll have to content myself to eating a bland meal.
and then, eureka, an epiphany.
i suddenly get a sense that i'm somehow doing everything wrong. my fried fish tastes bland without any soy sauce. eating with a spoon feels weird without a fork. and here i am, sitting in the pantry table, eating lunch, all alone.
montaigne was right. i really shouldn't eat all by myself.
and i think i need to buy myself a new fork.
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
more conspiracy theories
All these accidents in the news involving air force aircraft and civilian planes, me smells something fishy. Some theories:
Theory No. 1. The owners of the planes are tax evaders. The BIR seems to have found new energy to start running after everybody for their correct taxes, from business men and corrupt army generals to movie stars and basketball players. So to avoid getting sued, maybe they had to sell some parts. I could imagine this scenario with the plane already in the air:
Pilot: Air traffic control, this is flight xyz123 requesting for landing, over.
Air Traffic Control: Flight xyz123, please begin landing procedure, over.
Pilot: Roger.
Air Traffic Control: Flight xyz123, I repeat, please begin landing procedure, over.
Pilot: Air traffic control, we have already begun landing procedure, over...
Air Traffic Control: Flight xyz123, please release your landing gear immediately. The runway is now a few hundred meters away, over.
Copilot: (To the pilot) Uh... sir... i forgot to mention this, the boss had to borrow the emergency landing gear...
Pilot: What?! Air traffic control, we have no landing gear! Mayday! Mayday!
CRAAASH...
Theory No. 2. This could be an evil plot by some super secretive terrorist organization. They could be testing a new form of weapons system that could be used on any aircraft and make it look as if the crash was due to pilot error. Or maybe I'm just watching too many episodes of Alias. Sidney Bristow, where are you?
Theory No. 3. This is a variation of the previous thoery. It could be a part of an alien conspiracy to take over the planet. They're targeting aircarft as part of their effort to undermine the earth's defenses before they could start their invasion. But better leave this to Agents Mulder and Scully, this is an X-File.
Theory No. 4. How about... if... the Air Transportation Office isn't doing its job and the Philippine Air Force doesn't have money for spare parts? 'nuf sed.
Theory No. 1. The owners of the planes are tax evaders. The BIR seems to have found new energy to start running after everybody for their correct taxes, from business men and corrupt army generals to movie stars and basketball players. So to avoid getting sued, maybe they had to sell some parts. I could imagine this scenario with the plane already in the air:
Pilot: Air traffic control, this is flight xyz123 requesting for landing, over.
Air Traffic Control: Flight xyz123, please begin landing procedure, over.
Pilot: Roger.
Air Traffic Control: Flight xyz123, I repeat, please begin landing procedure, over.
Pilot: Air traffic control, we have already begun landing procedure, over...
Air Traffic Control: Flight xyz123, please release your landing gear immediately. The runway is now a few hundred meters away, over.
Copilot: (To the pilot) Uh... sir... i forgot to mention this, the boss had to borrow the emergency landing gear...
Pilot: What?! Air traffic control, we have no landing gear! Mayday! Mayday!
CRAAASH...
Theory No. 2. This could be an evil plot by some super secretive terrorist organization. They could be testing a new form of weapons system that could be used on any aircraft and make it look as if the crash was due to pilot error. Or maybe I'm just watching too many episodes of Alias. Sidney Bristow, where are you?
Theory No. 3. This is a variation of the previous thoery. It could be a part of an alien conspiracy to take over the planet. They're targeting aircarft as part of their effort to undermine the earth's defenses before they could start their invasion. But better leave this to Agents Mulder and Scully, this is an X-File.
Theory No. 4. How about... if... the Air Transportation Office isn't doing its job and the Philippine Air Force doesn't have money for spare parts? 'nuf sed.
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
a most unusual predicament
a friend of mine seems to have put himself in a most unusual predicament. he's currently in a relationship, or should i say "relationship", with this girl who seems to be absolutely head over heels in love with him (i think it's safe to say that). unfortunately for the girl, he doesn't share the same degree of enthusiasm. and it has come to the point that because of my friend's... uh... disinterest, she's become so unnaturally aggressive that he's finding her to be rather... how to put this lightly... annoying.
this has been going on for some time now, but still, he hasn't dumped her. as far as i know, he hasn't found the courage. well, according to him at least. and to spice the story up, he just found out that the girl is afflicted with this heart condition. so she's already in a pretty delicate condition, and his dumping her could leave her heart broken, i mean literally. and so, the dillema.
but what i've been wondering is, before he found out about her heart condition, if he didn't really like her, why didn't he just dump her in the first place?
i can think of three alternate possibilities.
possibility one.
he's lying. he really does like her. case in point, last saturday. we went to play some basketball in another friend's house, the girl also came with him. after the game, the two seemed so sweet to each other that you could literally have ants swarming over the both of them. but as to why... i don't know... i don't think he really has any incentive in lying, which brings us to the next possibility.
possibility two
this is a variation of possibility one, denial. maybe he really does like her, but he just can't admit it to himself yet (and to everybody else too, for that matter). this one's pretty understandable. getting into a new relationship can be a bit scary.
possibility three
contingency measure. maybe, he really doesn't like her as much as he would like to, but he's still open to the possibility of him liking her more in the future. so he's just taking a wait and see stance for the meanwhile. if nothing happens, then he dumps her. unfortunately for him, this is no longer as easy as it was.
i'm quite curious how all this'll end up. does he really like her or will he break up with her? if he does break up with her, considering her condition, how? abangan ang susunod na kabanata...
this has been going on for some time now, but still, he hasn't dumped her. as far as i know, he hasn't found the courage. well, according to him at least. and to spice the story up, he just found out that the girl is afflicted with this heart condition. so she's already in a pretty delicate condition, and his dumping her could leave her heart broken, i mean literally. and so, the dillema.
but what i've been wondering is, before he found out about her heart condition, if he didn't really like her, why didn't he just dump her in the first place?
i can think of three alternate possibilities.
possibility one.
he's lying. he really does like her. case in point, last saturday. we went to play some basketball in another friend's house, the girl also came with him. after the game, the two seemed so sweet to each other that you could literally have ants swarming over the both of them. but as to why... i don't know... i don't think he really has any incentive in lying, which brings us to the next possibility.
possibility two
this is a variation of possibility one, denial. maybe he really does like her, but he just can't admit it to himself yet (and to everybody else too, for that matter). this one's pretty understandable. getting into a new relationship can be a bit scary.
possibility three
contingency measure. maybe, he really doesn't like her as much as he would like to, but he's still open to the possibility of him liking her more in the future. so he's just taking a wait and see stance for the meanwhile. if nothing happens, then he dumps her. unfortunately for him, this is no longer as easy as it was.
i'm quite curious how all this'll end up. does he really like her or will he break up with her? if he does break up with her, considering her condition, how? abangan ang susunod na kabanata...
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
overworked, underpaid
my sentiments exactly...
########################
Makinarya
Bridge
Bangon
Tanghali nang gumising
Bihis
Saka ka na kumain
Takbo
Huli na sa trabaho
Sabit na lang
Barado na ang kalsada
Sabit na lang
Pasok
Gusot na uniporme
Kilos
Nakadikit na ang ngiti
Timpi
Nagmumura ang amo
Ang bagal mo raw
Magtulak ng papel
Ang bagal mo raw
Nagpakain ka sa makina
Umasenso ka na ba
Lalo lang lumiliit
Ang isip mo
Sabay sa pagtaas ng sweldo
Tiis na lang at gaganda ang pwesto
Pila
Handa ng pamasahe
Dungaw
Lumulubog na ang araw
Tulala
Walang laman
Ang hapong mata
Tulog na lang
Ang hinaharap na ligaya
Tulog na lang
Nagpakain ka sa makina
Umasenso ka na ba
Lalo lang sumisikip
Ang kurbata mo
Sabay sa pagtaas ng sweldo
Tiis na lang at gaganda ang pwesto
########################
Makinarya
Bridge
Bangon
Tanghali nang gumising
Bihis
Saka ka na kumain
Takbo
Huli na sa trabaho
Sabit na lang
Barado na ang kalsada
Sabit na lang
Pasok
Gusot na uniporme
Kilos
Nakadikit na ang ngiti
Timpi
Nagmumura ang amo
Ang bagal mo raw
Magtulak ng papel
Ang bagal mo raw
Nagpakain ka sa makina
Umasenso ka na ba
Lalo lang lumiliit
Ang isip mo
Sabay sa pagtaas ng sweldo
Tiis na lang at gaganda ang pwesto
Pila
Handa ng pamasahe
Dungaw
Lumulubog na ang araw
Tulala
Walang laman
Ang hapong mata
Tulog na lang
Ang hinaharap na ligaya
Tulog na lang
Nagpakain ka sa makina
Umasenso ka na ba
Lalo lang sumisikip
Ang kurbata mo
Sabay sa pagtaas ng sweldo
Tiis na lang at gaganda ang pwesto
Saturday, March 26, 2005
some lenten irony
maundy thursday. the radio at our next door neighbor's house was on full volume at 7 o'clock in the morning. normally, this makes me cranky, especially if they start blasting the whole neighborhood with those overplayed tunes by westlife, or worse, michael learns to rock. i was still kinda' groggy, and the station they were tuned to was playing some old music, so i was pretty nonchalant about it. the season being lent, the station then tried to be pious by broadcasting some "words of wisdom". a deep, breathy voice then came out and said, "you shouldn't praise yourself too much, but your praise should come from the lips of others", or something to that effect. then it went, "this message is brought to you by xyz fm, your number one! all hits! super station!". right.
Thursday, March 10, 2005
everything is meaningless
this is supposed to be from the bible. imagine that, the bible!
############################
"Meaningless! Meaningless!"
says the Teacher.
"Utterly meaningless!
Everything is meaningless."
What does man gain from all his labor
at which he toils under the sun?
Generations come and generations go,
but the earth remains forever.
The sun rises and the sun sets,
and hurries back to where it rises.
The wind blows to the south
and turns to the north;
round and round it goes,
ever returning on its course.
All streams flow into the sea,
yet the sea is never full.
To the place the streams come from,
there they return again.
All things are wearisome,
more than one can say.
The eye never has enough of seeing,
nor the ear its fill of hearing.
What has been will be again,
what has been done will be done again;
there is nothing new under the sun.
Is there anything of which one can say,
"Look! This is something new"?
It was here already, long ago;
it was here before our time.
There is no remembrance of men of old,
and even those who are yet to come
will not be remembered
by those who follow.
Ecclesiastes 1:2-11
############################
my point exactly...
############################
"Meaningless! Meaningless!"
says the Teacher.
"Utterly meaningless!
Everything is meaningless."
What does man gain from all his labor
at which he toils under the sun?
Generations come and generations go,
but the earth remains forever.
The sun rises and the sun sets,
and hurries back to where it rises.
The wind blows to the south
and turns to the north;
round and round it goes,
ever returning on its course.
All streams flow into the sea,
yet the sea is never full.
To the place the streams come from,
there they return again.
All things are wearisome,
more than one can say.
The eye never has enough of seeing,
nor the ear its fill of hearing.
What has been will be again,
what has been done will be done again;
there is nothing new under the sun.
Is there anything of which one can say,
"Look! This is something new"?
It was here already, long ago;
it was here before our time.
There is no remembrance of men of old,
and even those who are yet to come
will not be remembered
by those who follow.
Ecclesiastes 1:2-11
############################
my point exactly...
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
top 10 signs that you're getting old
i'm still 22, but i'm starting to feel... old... like really old. so, in the tradition of david letterman, here is my own top ten list.
top 10 signs that you're getting old
10. people refer to the 90's as a bygone era the way everybody refers to the 80's and 70's.
soon, everybody will be thinking that the 90's is as far removed as the jurassic period. i'm starting to feel like a dinosaur...
9. you start worrying about what you eat
eating used to be one of the greatest joys in life. but now, after a nice filling meal, i can't help but feel like a bavarian cream donut stuffed in a pair of pants.
8. old classmates getting married
you think, "what?! that pervert's getting married?!" then you imagine that old classmate taking walks in the park with his kids and his pregnant wife. he's so... mature.
7. summer no longer means long vacations
it used to be that 3 months out of every year you'd be faced with having nothing to do. now, all i have are 10 measely vacation leaves... the horror...
6. former teachers become coworkers
this is the cool part about getting old. you can now rub it in their face and say "YOU CAN'T FAIL ME NOW!!! BWAHAHAHA (evil laugh)"
5. you can still remember the time when the minimum jeepney fare was still at 1 peso
the minimum is now 5 pesos (5.50 in manila) and some are even proposing to raise it to 7 pesos! what the hell!
4. insurance credit card agents start chasing you with offers
this one can be very annoying. you're in the middle of solving a particularly nasty problem at work, then your train of thought is broken by the sound of your phone ringing. "sir, we would like to offer you BLABLABLABLABLA..." AAAARRGGH
3. the thought of "settling down" has reached your mind
2. you start to get existential angst
only old people are supposed to get this! AAAAAAAHHHH!!!
...
and the number one sign that you're getting old:
1. the music videos you used to watch get shown on classic mtv!
'nuf sed
top 10 signs that you're getting old
10. people refer to the 90's as a bygone era the way everybody refers to the 80's and 70's.
soon, everybody will be thinking that the 90's is as far removed as the jurassic period. i'm starting to feel like a dinosaur...
9. you start worrying about what you eat
eating used to be one of the greatest joys in life. but now, after a nice filling meal, i can't help but feel like a bavarian cream donut stuffed in a pair of pants.
8. old classmates getting married
you think, "what?! that pervert's getting married?!" then you imagine that old classmate taking walks in the park with his kids and his pregnant wife. he's so... mature.
7. summer no longer means long vacations
it used to be that 3 months out of every year you'd be faced with having nothing to do. now, all i have are 10 measely vacation leaves... the horror...
6. former teachers become coworkers
this is the cool part about getting old. you can now rub it in their face and say "YOU CAN'T FAIL ME NOW!!! BWAHAHAHA (evil laugh)"
5. you can still remember the time when the minimum jeepney fare was still at 1 peso
the minimum is now 5 pesos (5.50 in manila) and some are even proposing to raise it to 7 pesos! what the hell!
4. insurance credit card agents start chasing you with offers
this one can be very annoying. you're in the middle of solving a particularly nasty problem at work, then your train of thought is broken by the sound of your phone ringing. "sir, we would like to offer you BLABLABLABLABLA..." AAAARRGGH
3. the thought of "settling down" has reached your mind
2. you start to get existential angst
only old people are supposed to get this! AAAAAAAHHHH!!!
...
and the number one sign that you're getting old:
1. the music videos you used to watch get shown on classic mtv!
'nuf sed
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
weird weather
el niño sure has thrown the weather out of whack. the summer season has just opened, and we officially welcome it with a rainy day:
you may ask, "haven't you got anything else to talk about but the weather?"
... then why are you reading this? get back to work!
you may ask, "haven't you got anything else to talk about but the weather?"
... then why are you reading this? get back to work!
Wednesday, March 02, 2005
stuck
reading an issue of the national geographic last night made me realize that the world is such a huge and wonderful place and it just left me wondering. it left me wondering why five days of every week i have to force myself to wake up early in the morning, ride a jeepney filled with people i don't even know in the middle of rush hour traffic, and spend the rest of the day stuck in an office cubicle getting scolded by my boss and fearing the next mistake that i make could get me fired. it left me wondering why i have to slave away and waste what little time i have on this earth.
why shouldn't i simply resign from this job when i'm starting to despise it so much? why shouldn't i do the things that i've always dreamt of doing? like travelling around the country or even around the world, going to places that i've only read or heard about, meeting cultures that i've only seen on the glossy pages of magazines. or finally having enough time to read all my books and write stories that can make people move and wonder.
but then, reality rears its ugly head and gives me a nice kick in the butt. i certainly won't be getting anywhere without money, much more survive. and i won't have any money if i don't get a job. and getting a job means having to force myself to wake up early in the morning, ride a jeepney filled with people i don't even know in the middle of rush hour traffic, and spend the rest of the day stuck in an office cubicle. whoever said that life is beautiful just didn't know what he was talking about.
its all starting to seem so pointless. you work to live, but when you look at it, you're not really living at all. its like your just wasting your time, for in the end you're gonna die anyway, and what little you have worked for your entire life you won't be able to take with you. it just doesn't make sense to me.
and when you die, the world just goes on. and it goes on like you never really were, like you never really existed. you are simply a name carved on a tombstone. what you've achieved, how far you've gone, is nothing in death. nobody remembers. everybody forgets.
its starting to seem that life is simply a cruel joke. you are born, then you live a hard life doing pointless work in a cold world that just doesn't give a damn, then you die and you're buried in your grave and simply forgotten. and this evil cycle continues, it never ends.
i need vacation...
why shouldn't i simply resign from this job when i'm starting to despise it so much? why shouldn't i do the things that i've always dreamt of doing? like travelling around the country or even around the world, going to places that i've only read or heard about, meeting cultures that i've only seen on the glossy pages of magazines. or finally having enough time to read all my books and write stories that can make people move and wonder.
but then, reality rears its ugly head and gives me a nice kick in the butt. i certainly won't be getting anywhere without money, much more survive. and i won't have any money if i don't get a job. and getting a job means having to force myself to wake up early in the morning, ride a jeepney filled with people i don't even know in the middle of rush hour traffic, and spend the rest of the day stuck in an office cubicle. whoever said that life is beautiful just didn't know what he was talking about.
its all starting to seem so pointless. you work to live, but when you look at it, you're not really living at all. its like your just wasting your time, for in the end you're gonna die anyway, and what little you have worked for your entire life you won't be able to take with you. it just doesn't make sense to me.
and when you die, the world just goes on. and it goes on like you never really were, like you never really existed. you are simply a name carved on a tombstone. what you've achieved, how far you've gone, is nothing in death. nobody remembers. everybody forgets.
its starting to seem that life is simply a cruel joke. you are born, then you live a hard life doing pointless work in a cold world that just doesn't give a damn, then you die and you're buried in your grave and simply forgotten. and this evil cycle continues, it never ends.
i need vacation...
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
how does he get his ideas?
neil gaiman (who is also one of my personal heroes) has got to be one of the best story tellers in recent history (other than tolkien). everytime i get to the end of one of his stories, i always wonder how he makes them out in his head. so here's his essay on how he gets his ideas: http://www.neilgaiman.com/exclusive/essay03.asp
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
a limerick
dedicated to clyde & chick :)
***
There was a boy named Albert
Who had a friend named Robert
They hired some whores
To do their chores
And now we think they're perverts
***
joke joke joke!!! hehehe :)
***
There was a boy named Albert
Who had a friend named Robert
They hired some whores
To do their chores
And now we think they're perverts
***
joke joke joke!!! hehehe :)
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
faithless
"I am immortal."
This Eric declared loudly to his friends over a fourth round of beers. He had brought them over to one of the most upscale bars in the city to celebrate his promotion. This morning, he had just been promoted to company vice president by the CEO. And at the age of 28, the youngest person ever to reach that position.
"Hey, Eric! Where are the girls you promised us?", his friends chorused.
He clapped his hands and called, "Waiter! The girls! And another round of beer!"
The waiter came, carrying more beer. Then, one by one, call girls came out from some hidden door in the bar and sidled to each of the guys in his party.
"People, they're all yours for the night!", he proudly told his boys.
"Eric, your the man," one of them shouted, to the drunken cheers and applause of everybody else.
Eric smiled. "Yeah, I'm the man," he thought with pride. "This is the life."
A few more rounds of beer, the party soon breaks up. Drunk, and with him a young beautiful lass barely eighteen, Eric goes to his car, and gets in.
"We're gonna have a wild night tonight, babe," he said.
He starts his car, then speeds to the nearest motel. They soon stop for a red light in an intersection. Across the street sat an old church. The girl, by force habit, makes a sign of the cross. This does not escape his notice.
"What shit is that? You don't believe in that do you?"
Shyly, the girl answered, "You've at least got to believe in something."
Mockingly, he smiled. "Haha... funny... a whore telling me to believe in God..."
The stop light soon showed green. With his foot on the accelerator, he speeds off. And then from out of nowhere, a huge speeding truck rushed toward the car. Then he heard it, the sickening crash of metal on metal, of concrete on metal, of shattering glass. He barely had time to react, to think, to panic. And then, darkness.
***
Slowly, like a mist lifting gently, he returns to consciousness. A bright white light. And voices. Of a man and a woman.
"How bad is it Doc?" asks the woman.
"I can't be totally sure. But judging from all that damage he got from the accident, he'll be very lucky if he can walk, or even move at all"
"tsk tsk..."
"Have you got any id on this guy? Notified anybody from his family?"
"From what we got, doc, he hasn't any family here. They're all abroad. But he seems to be some corporate bigshot. Insurance should take care of the bills."
"Good. We wouldn't want to be saddled with another charity case. Inform me when he wakes up."
"Yes, doctor."
"To the next room, then..."
Then the sound of footsteps. The creaking of the door. The click of the door knob.
Still in a state of semi consciousness, bits of the conversation come back to him. "He'll be very lucky if he can walk again... What are they talking about..." The gravity of those words hasn't struck him, yet.
"Was that me they were talking about... ? No can't be. Must be dreaming. I must wake up. Must wake."
Painfully, he opens his eyes, and slowly looks around. It was a small white room. Then he sees the instruments. And the tubes connected to him. The casts all over his body.
His anguished scream fills the hospital's halls.
***
Four days have passed. The nurse, who gave him some pain killers, has just left. She leaves the television on, to at least give Eric a distraction from his misery.
An obscure TV evangelist comes on the air. He preaches of a merciful God. A loving God. A God of miracles.
Listening to his message, tears slowly come down Eric's eyes. He has heard a message of hope. Hope that, for him, is definitely in short supply. The evangelist then asks his viewers to pray with him. Eric closes his eyes, and prays.
***
More than three years have passed. From the depths of despair and misery he was brought down to by the accident, he has since climbed back up.
He is now at the head of his own company. A week before, his company won the bidding for a multi million dollar contract with one of the biggest conglomerates of the world, and it is sure to push stock prices for his company even higher.
He even graced the cover of business magazines, which tell of his dramatic climb to glory from the accident that almost took his life to his becoming one of the rising stars in business. He was also awarded as one of the ten outstanding young men in the country for his story.
He has also gained fame for his philanthropy. He was once featured in a front page of a national newspaper showing him donating a check worth one million pesos each to some of his favorite charities.
Two years ago, as a sign of gratitude, he donated millions of pesos to that obscure evangelist he saw on TV. The evangelist soon makes it big time, getting more television coverage, and staging grand preaching tours of the country. Then, another year later, he announces that he is the messiah, the second coming of Jesus. He now leads a fanatical membership numbering to a million. Last week, the body of his wife, wrapped in black plastic, was found in a ravine. Allegations of the preacher's drug use soon spread, and police investigators are now filing a warrant of arrest for the preacher cum messiah.
But for Eric, life is good. Fame and fortune have overtaken him, and he is basking in the glow of its glory. And like vultures to a carcass, women are all around him. Every week he brings a different girl to his penthouse apartment.
He soon throws a party celebrating the finalization of the multimillion dollar contract for his company. Invited are some top business executives and business associates, and other socialites.
His guests soon line up to give him messages of congratulations. Flustered by his success and fame, pride creeps back into his heart, and he declares to himself...
"I am immortal."
***
faithless
by rivermaya
your so called friends
your so called career
the time on your hands
the lover you cheat on every monday night
your sense of protection
your chord progressions
you have the world
indebted to no one
but your electronic diary
well that's impressive
you're so complete
until we tumble we are faithless
until our senses fail we're faithless
until we falter we are faithless
until there's nothing left to hold on to
the turn of events
the twister called fate
it came without warning
they gave you no freakin sign
now you've got zero
now you've got nil
how does it feel?
until we tumble we are faithless
until our senses fail we're faithless
until we falter we are faithless
faithless
until we tumble we are faithless
until our senses fail we're faithless
until we falter we are faithless
This Eric declared loudly to his friends over a fourth round of beers. He had brought them over to one of the most upscale bars in the city to celebrate his promotion. This morning, he had just been promoted to company vice president by the CEO. And at the age of 28, the youngest person ever to reach that position.
"Hey, Eric! Where are the girls you promised us?", his friends chorused.
He clapped his hands and called, "Waiter! The girls! And another round of beer!"
The waiter came, carrying more beer. Then, one by one, call girls came out from some hidden door in the bar and sidled to each of the guys in his party.
"People, they're all yours for the night!", he proudly told his boys.
"Eric, your the man," one of them shouted, to the drunken cheers and applause of everybody else.
Eric smiled. "Yeah, I'm the man," he thought with pride. "This is the life."
A few more rounds of beer, the party soon breaks up. Drunk, and with him a young beautiful lass barely eighteen, Eric goes to his car, and gets in.
"We're gonna have a wild night tonight, babe," he said.
He starts his car, then speeds to the nearest motel. They soon stop for a red light in an intersection. Across the street sat an old church. The girl, by force habit, makes a sign of the cross. This does not escape his notice.
"What shit is that? You don't believe in that do you?"
Shyly, the girl answered, "You've at least got to believe in something."
Mockingly, he smiled. "Haha... funny... a whore telling me to believe in God..."
The stop light soon showed green. With his foot on the accelerator, he speeds off. And then from out of nowhere, a huge speeding truck rushed toward the car. Then he heard it, the sickening crash of metal on metal, of concrete on metal, of shattering glass. He barely had time to react, to think, to panic. And then, darkness.
***
Slowly, like a mist lifting gently, he returns to consciousness. A bright white light. And voices. Of a man and a woman.
"How bad is it Doc?" asks the woman.
"I can't be totally sure. But judging from all that damage he got from the accident, he'll be very lucky if he can walk, or even move at all"
"tsk tsk..."
"Have you got any id on this guy? Notified anybody from his family?"
"From what we got, doc, he hasn't any family here. They're all abroad. But he seems to be some corporate bigshot. Insurance should take care of the bills."
"Good. We wouldn't want to be saddled with another charity case. Inform me when he wakes up."
"Yes, doctor."
"To the next room, then..."
Then the sound of footsteps. The creaking of the door. The click of the door knob.
Still in a state of semi consciousness, bits of the conversation come back to him. "He'll be very lucky if he can walk again... What are they talking about..." The gravity of those words hasn't struck him, yet.
"Was that me they were talking about... ? No can't be. Must be dreaming. I must wake up. Must wake."
Painfully, he opens his eyes, and slowly looks around. It was a small white room. Then he sees the instruments. And the tubes connected to him. The casts all over his body.
His anguished scream fills the hospital's halls.
***
Four days have passed. The nurse, who gave him some pain killers, has just left. She leaves the television on, to at least give Eric a distraction from his misery.
An obscure TV evangelist comes on the air. He preaches of a merciful God. A loving God. A God of miracles.
Listening to his message, tears slowly come down Eric's eyes. He has heard a message of hope. Hope that, for him, is definitely in short supply. The evangelist then asks his viewers to pray with him. Eric closes his eyes, and prays.
***
More than three years have passed. From the depths of despair and misery he was brought down to by the accident, he has since climbed back up.
He is now at the head of his own company. A week before, his company won the bidding for a multi million dollar contract with one of the biggest conglomerates of the world, and it is sure to push stock prices for his company even higher.
He even graced the cover of business magazines, which tell of his dramatic climb to glory from the accident that almost took his life to his becoming one of the rising stars in business. He was also awarded as one of the ten outstanding young men in the country for his story.
He has also gained fame for his philanthropy. He was once featured in a front page of a national newspaper showing him donating a check worth one million pesos each to some of his favorite charities.
Two years ago, as a sign of gratitude, he donated millions of pesos to that obscure evangelist he saw on TV. The evangelist soon makes it big time, getting more television coverage, and staging grand preaching tours of the country. Then, another year later, he announces that he is the messiah, the second coming of Jesus. He now leads a fanatical membership numbering to a million. Last week, the body of his wife, wrapped in black plastic, was found in a ravine. Allegations of the preacher's drug use soon spread, and police investigators are now filing a warrant of arrest for the preacher cum messiah.
But for Eric, life is good. Fame and fortune have overtaken him, and he is basking in the glow of its glory. And like vultures to a carcass, women are all around him. Every week he brings a different girl to his penthouse apartment.
He soon throws a party celebrating the finalization of the multimillion dollar contract for his company. Invited are some top business executives and business associates, and other socialites.
His guests soon line up to give him messages of congratulations. Flustered by his success and fame, pride creeps back into his heart, and he declares to himself...
"I am immortal."
***
faithless
by rivermaya
your so called friends
your so called career
the time on your hands
the lover you cheat on every monday night
your sense of protection
your chord progressions
you have the world
indebted to no one
but your electronic diary
well that's impressive
you're so complete
until we tumble we are faithless
until our senses fail we're faithless
until we falter we are faithless
until there's nothing left to hold on to
the turn of events
the twister called fate
it came without warning
they gave you no freakin sign
now you've got zero
now you've got nil
how does it feel?
until we tumble we are faithless
until our senses fail we're faithless
until we falter we are faithless
faithless
until we tumble we are faithless
until our senses fail we're faithless
until we falter we are faithless
Monday, February 14, 2005
conspiracy theory no. 2
i'm starting to get the feeling that valentine's day, like christmas, is another one of those conspiracies by big business to empty our pockets. imagine, who in his right mind would pay 1000 pesos for a bunch of flowers?! then you'll have to buy yourself some new clothes to impress your date, then the overpriced gifts, then the fancy dinner (also overpriced), not to mention that all hotels and motels are usually fully booked by that time. and to complete their subjugation of the whole populace, they create this atmosphere to torment all singles so that they'll be so desperate to find a date by that day, which of course translates into even more sales. KAACHIIIING!!! where's the love now?!
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
conspiracy theory
Imelda Marcos seems to be getting delusional again...
US ruling on Marcos money elates Imelda
why on earth should she be so happy when the US appeals court only upheld the Supreme Court's decision to forfeit the money to the Philippine goverment? is this another extreme case of Imelda's self delusion? or could this be because this means that she can still make shadowy deals with Malacañang regarding the money?
US ruling on Marcos money elates Imelda
why on earth should she be so happy when the US appeals court only upheld the Supreme Court's decision to forfeit the money to the Philippine goverment? is this another extreme case of Imelda's self delusion? or could this be because this means that she can still make shadowy deals with Malacañang regarding the money?
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
unbelievable
Some positive news. Even with the instability brought about by elections last year and the unusual series of typhoons bringing problems to the agricultural sector...
RP economy grows 6.1%
But should we really take that as good news? Is there enough of the growth to trickle down for the masses to feel it?
In other news, congress is finally showing some signs of intelligence...
More palatable VAT up at Senate
Meanwhile, the search for intelligent life in Philippine government continues...
RP economy grows 6.1%
But should we really take that as good news? Is there enough of the growth to trickle down for the masses to feel it?
In other news, congress is finally showing some signs of intelligence...
More palatable VAT up at Senate
Meanwhile, the search for intelligent life in Philippine government continues...
Friday, January 28, 2005
Wednesday, January 26, 2005
again, about names
read this one from istorya.net... you can consider this as a continuation to my previous post:
One day, Mr. Phillard rushed his pregnant wife over to the hospital. As the doctors were prepping his wife, Mr. Phillard's idiot brother Bill arrived to watch the birth. But when Mr. Phillard saw the blood and everything else, he fainted. When Mr. Phillard woke up he was in a bed with the doctor standing above him.
"Mr. Phillard," the doctor said, "you are in the recovery room. Don't worry, your wife is fine and she had twins, a boy and a girl. Because you were unconscious and your wife was still under anaesthesia, she requested that your brother Bill name the kids."
"What! My brother, the idiot! I can't believe you let him! What did he name them?"
"He named your daughter Denise."
"Hey, not bad! I underestimated my brother. What did he name my son?"
"He named your son Denephew."
One day, Mr. Phillard rushed his pregnant wife over to the hospital. As the doctors were prepping his wife, Mr. Phillard's idiot brother Bill arrived to watch the birth. But when Mr. Phillard saw the blood and everything else, he fainted. When Mr. Phillard woke up he was in a bed with the doctor standing above him.
"Mr. Phillard," the doctor said, "you are in the recovery room. Don't worry, your wife is fine and she had twins, a boy and a girl. Because you were unconscious and your wife was still under anaesthesia, she requested that your brother Bill name the kids."
"What! My brother, the idiot! I can't believe you let him! What did he name them?"
"He named your daughter Denise."
"Hey, not bad! I underestimated my brother. What did he name my son?"
"He named your son Denephew."
Friday, January 21, 2005
a legislative proposal...
i shall now be proposing a piece of legislation to the congressmen and senators of our dear republic who are reading this blog (if there are any...). this i have found to be necessary after the rather disturbing piece of information i got recently.
there should be a law against parents giving their kids the weirdest names. imagine the trauma they'll go through when other kids get to know their name. they'll be the butt of everybody's jokes, and they'll be carrying the stigma of their name until they grow old.
take the case of my cousin's kids. her first child, a boy, she named maurch. they say it was because he was born on march. i wondered, what on earth was that u doing their. but, hey, it was still pronounced as march, not morch as i first thought, so at least it sounded decent.
then about 3 years later, my cousin gave birth again, to a girl. and the name they got her just got me scratching my head. they named her hannah grill. yes... grill, as in the cooking implement. what they were thinking when they gave her that name, i honestly don't know.
two years later, she gave birth again. this time it was a boy. when my mother and i heard the news, we both got nervous thinking what name they were going to give the poor kid. they named him gabriel. finally, a decent name! when we found out, we almost threw a celebration for the whole neighborhood.
but if you think grill was bad, wait till you hear this. i was taking the elevator going back up to the office when i met one of the guards here, who was also going up. we usually passed each other, but we didn't know each other's names, so he asked me and i gave him my name. then he said, "pero way kalupig sa akong pangalan... (no one can beat my name)". he showed me his id, and it horrified me. his name? the the month and date of his birth. poor guy.
there should be a law against parents giving their kids the weirdest names. imagine the trauma they'll go through when other kids get to know their name. they'll be the butt of everybody's jokes, and they'll be carrying the stigma of their name until they grow old.
take the case of my cousin's kids. her first child, a boy, she named maurch. they say it was because he was born on march. i wondered, what on earth was that u doing their. but, hey, it was still pronounced as march, not morch as i first thought, so at least it sounded decent.
then about 3 years later, my cousin gave birth again, to a girl. and the name they got her just got me scratching my head. they named her hannah grill. yes... grill, as in the cooking implement. what they were thinking when they gave her that name, i honestly don't know.
two years later, she gave birth again. this time it was a boy. when my mother and i heard the news, we both got nervous thinking what name they were going to give the poor kid. they named him gabriel. finally, a decent name! when we found out, we almost threw a celebration for the whole neighborhood.
but if you think grill was bad, wait till you hear this. i was taking the elevator going back up to the office when i met one of the guards here, who was also going up. we usually passed each other, but we didn't know each other's names, so he asked me and i gave him my name. then he said, "pero way kalupig sa akong pangalan... (no one can beat my name)". he showed me his id, and it horrified me. his name? the the month and date of his birth. poor guy.
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