I have an imp for a teacher

So Myats has a devil for a sister, and though Ms Ranada is devilishly cheeky, she's not that feisty. So she's an imp. And she's sent me to thesis hell.

Ok, so I admit, the thesis proposals were corny, and I wasn't pitching them very enthusiastically. She asked me why I wasn't doing anything about advertising, saying my strengths were in creative conceptualization anyway. I told her I'd rather get into the movie industry after graduation than the ad industry. She told me to make a production. I dunno why I said yes. I dunno why I showed her the movie concept I pitched to Miss Marya. I dunno what I was thinking.

Stupid stupid stupid girl. Where in all 7 circles of hell are you going to find the moolah?!?!?

I could just change the concept and think of something that would require as little money as possible, but I'm stuck in the story, and my brain won't allow me to think of anything else in the context of movie material.

Cripes.

The movie concept's entitled "Bida complex", and plays at Philippine movie cliche's. And when you do a parody, it should at least reach the level of what it is you're parodizing in terms of cinematography at least. What do I know?!? I'd seen enough of real production to know that I don't know crap about commercial film production. And if I'm going to defend my thesis the same time my classmates do, I have to start looking for Producers nao.

Half of me wants to do the project, and half of me is telling me if I do accomplish it, it'll be mediocre, so it's better if I don't to escape the probability of getting embarassed big time.

Hay inay, bakit ka ba nanganak ng babaeng ambisyosa't nagsasalita bago mag-isip?

~~~

Cook Out updates (or at least what I know):

>The Logo is in the drawing board, and we've commished Ate Al (artistmonk) to do it
>The Program has been drawn up, and tradition and margin for errors have been given the highest priority.
>Dama de Noche will be playing, cept not as competitors, but as a guest band.

Ang alamat ni Maria de Cacao

There is a Maria story in almost every Region in the Philippines. Almost everywhere,the legend is that she's a beautiful stately lady with fair skin and long long locks who speaks in Spanish. She lives alone on a mountain and lends people her cutlery, gowns, golden combs, etc etc. She's harvests cacao ang delivers them on her Spanish galleon to different parts of the Philippines. She is known to live in waterfalls and other places.

The reality is (in my mind) that she is actually the Queen of a Chocolate Conglomerate, is terribly terribly obsessed with the aesthetic and wants to live in a world full of finery and luxury (wc is why she lends gowns and cutlery to the natives of the lands she abuses of their free resources, she hopes she gets invited to fine dinners and parties just like back in sweet home mother Spain). She has found out the secret to longevity and to evarlasting byuuuteee: Not too much sun and hours and hours of sleep (which is why she's seldom seen), and a top secret chemical that comes from the skin of cacao (I just came up with that on the fly). She parks her galleon in the crests of Waterfall formations and actually uses super advanced technology (she stole from Lemurian civilization) to make her galleon invisible AND flexible (to fit arrow rivers), not to mention uber powerful (which explains why it goes upstream to the waterfalls). She's also a PETA sponsor (she has her own Natural sanctuary in Makiling), and she a little too vain for her own good (she sets up "apparitions" in different parts of the world and basks in worship)

Idol nako si Maria.

~~~

Gais. I have no idea how all of you got here, or why you're even taking a speculative fiction post seriously. If you're all here for homework, go to a library for facts (and correct grammar and correct spelling). You won't get that from some ditzy girl's blog. I repeat: this is in no way an academic post, and you cannot expect me to make you copypasta for filipino fables class or whatever. (edit: feb 27 2012)

Also, thanks for the lulz.

It

...isn’t perfect, but it’s gone past the point where words sound hollow and unimportant. Words give it different shades of meaning, and there are just some things words are not for. This is one of them. If I were to show you what I mean, I’d give you a painting, and you still wouldn’t understand.

I’d give you the Inverness, with its valleys of purple and its mists of gluttonous incense.

But that is just one painting. There are so many others. The Inverness is too depressing. But I have used the Inverness as an example because it is impossible. It is an idea of a painting and not one in actuality. That is what I mean when I will give you a painting.

So we go back to words. I would give you a word to describe it, but it has been misused too much that its meaning has become vague. SO I will refrain from misleading you by giving you the word. The usage of the word in this narrative might cloud your judgment about this monologue anyway.

I said it was impossible, I said it was ideal, and I also said it was not perfect. This is because in my opinion, all that is considered perfect becomes tainted eventually.

It is something that has caused me to dwell into myself and study It, trying to decipher its nuances. I’d discovered it causes me to think differently, to consider other options, to wonder about going out of my way. It causes me to break away from my laziness. Otherwise I’d just be sitting here.

It has drifted beyond the surface of my being, that if you looked at me, you would no longer notice its presence. It has grown deep within me, like a root that ruins the rock yet beatifies it with meaning.

It is idle for most of the time, a welcome poison in my veins, but at certain circumstances, it leaps and takes hold of me, and I no longer own my body. That is the part of it that the world chuckles and nods to, but otherwise it is more than that.

And at times I tire of it, just like I tire of almost everything I have grown accustomed to. But it wrestles with me and mocks me, and shows me who is boss. And every time, I succumb and agree that I am master, and I let it happen to me.

Digression

During Ate Chloe's stay in UPD for summer class, she had a run in with the typical modern Dillimanian. She got onto a Toki and ended up listening to two kikays blathering about boys, cars and money, in "Conyo" (Taglish). She talked about said experience with another Super Senior, who told her there were actually tons of kids like those these days in UPD, and that the image UPD projects through the Collegian is a lie. A concrete example would have to be how people still wore slippers to school, except these days, their slippers' cost as much as a week's meal (for me at least).

While she was telling us about the kikays, I remembered Sam and I had a conversation about boys and cars too, in a mixture of english and cebuano to boot. And though we do like to dress up when we're in the mood, we do not wear havaianas (they're not as gahi as my TWO's, so meh :P).

A private conversation about a guy friend's new chevy doesn't have to mean these girls are shallow and that's all they ever talk about. It is kinda hard to speak straight English or Filipino or Cebuano when you find shifting lingual gears too much effort when you're just gossiping and you've grown up thinking in both languages.

And though I may rant about instant assumption and hasty generalization over here where I can lay my thoughts out without being interrupted, I do agree that UP today is lackluster compared to a few years back. There was just somethng about school that made your blood boil in the past. UP made me care about a lot of things I didn't give a rat's ass about back in HS. But that was only because I was actually curious. These days, most UPians I get to talk to only care about making the grade and passing their scholarship quotas.

When asking for identity info from a stalker the other day, he said his student number dates back to "When UP was still cool".*

So UP isn't as cool as it was before. Sucks right? Though we may reminisce about the good old days, it'd be foolish to try to bring it back the way it used to be. Different approaches must be taken, isn't that what being radical is supposed to be about? Being up to the times?

I am not saddened by the death of UP Culture. I am challenged with defining the new paradigm of "UP Culture". In a campus as small, yet as potentially volatile as UP Cebu, it's so easy to make a difference.

If anyone wants this generation to care again, one needs to remember they're dealing with a different generation. A different generation calls for a different approach.

But I'm not saying sitting around and laughing and calling yourself a "family" (ala brady bunch) is going to work when it comes to having people care about the rest of the world. I'm just saying we can't expect people to keep falling for the same old tricks, specially because we 90's kids are the TV generation. We have short attention spans and sth.

I like to ramble when I'm sleepy. You can go over the entire thing and replace "UP Culture" (or the idea of it for that matter) with anything that you feel is digressing today. Try Dunkin Donuts for starters. Or the dichotomy of Bago (I wish Pangs and Jun were on Multiply, only they'd get this joke...)

*Leche... kinsay nanghatag ug number nako to someone with a student number that starts with 98?!? The jerk called me "zwiti"!!! :barf:

Out of order

Dar2x, one of my multiply contacts, posted about her schedule being mucked up by the system, so I had to go check my own.

CRS strikes again. The PE subject I preenlisted for is out. No badminton, no swimming classes that fit into my sched, and absolutely no arnis. Crappiola. All the dangerous ball sports are available this sem, and unfortunately for me, I can't skip on PE again this time.

Then there's the part about non-froshes being unable to preenlist for NSTP. What's up with that? Does that mean I still have to add mat?

But I'm actually looking forward to classes. Most of my classmates are getting misty eyed about it being their last, while I'll be staying put for another year (providing I don't botch things up).

~~~

Faith got me a shirt yesterday, with an Out of Order stamped across the chest. You rarely find really clever lines on shirts these days, even though they're being manufactured by the thousand by brands like "Artwork", "Bleach", "Digeo", etc etc. The lines you find on shirts these days are usually corny, or crass. Sometimes they're just words on cloth. Or I could be wrong, and the shirt line's implication is far too deep, its humor escapes me.

Out of order. Can't piss here. Can't take a dump here. Not available. Not applicable. Broken. Destroyed. Dysfunctional. Chaotic. In other words, it says there's just something wrong with the person wearing this shirt. So it's either you back off, or you laugh.

If you think about it, it kinda spoils the message that the shirt's a little to snug around the curves.

It also strikes me as somewhat poserish to have to project to the world that you're bad news. Why not let them decide? If you really are traumatic, why not have them find out and experience trauma for themselves? A little dirt is good for the immune system. If we all wore signs that told people what sort of person they were dealing with, where's the point in engaging in conversation to know more about people? What ever happened to good old interaction? What are we so afraid of?

Signs can be deceptive. What's with all these labels? What's with all this propaganda? Who're we all fooling?

But then again, witty shirts always make good conversation starters. Lecheng commercialism.

As a conclusion to this psuedo rant, I'd like to annouce that I've been tasked to write an article on emo culture. Lol. If you know any who're high and proud with the label, I'd love to meet them.

What is there in the world to do?

Back to bummer land. Alone in Cebu, with nothing to do and no one to terrorize.
Internship ended today (for me at least), tomorrow's a weekend, and I'm almost broke. What's worse is that I need to move out of my hole next week, and I have yet to find somewhere to go. Ack.

Woe is me. I don't want to spend the weekend in front of a PC either, and there's very little to do in the room, and I left my DVDs at Faith's place. Zyra, nganong ug manghagit naman ko'g inom, wala na nuon mo? I miss Boracay (the drink, not the place)... *nudge nudge* Em2 nganong kung kanus-a na ko manghagit ug duwa, kinahanglan makalimot ug ginhawa imong auntie? I could've started working on your Paladin...

I refuse to do nothing (well nothing fun of course). I don't see myself logging in tomorrow, but this should serve as future reference.

What is there to do when you're low on cash and alone (apart of course from what it is healthy young adults do to tissue)?

1.) Read a book (unapplicable to yours trully since I no longer have unread reading material)
2.) Draw (not feeling very inspired atm)
3.) Take a walk (this is only fun when you've got someone to walk with, pwamis. Unfortunately, my walking buddy and silly conversation friend is out of town, curse him)
4.) Go to church (if all else fails and you're really bored, you can rant to the manager)
5.) Count your hair by the strand. (in-ana na gud ko ka walay lingaw)
6.) Sleep; snore; travel to dreamland; pee on your bed ... whatever it is sleeping people do (inapplicable to insomniacs)

You may add to this list by posting a comment.

Post debt paying

This is for Jared and Gani, who both tagged me with one of those "random facts about yourself" tag. I owed Gani 6, and Jared 10. Here goes...

1.) I'm subconsciously health conscious. If I were to pick between a bag of chips and a bowl of fruit, I'd go for the fruit (because I don't like how salty chips are anyway, and artifical sweeteners leave weird aftertastes)

2.) I don't think I'm weird. I'm just terribly self conscious, and a little too comfortable with taboos than usual.

3.) If I was born with a different configuartion, I could've become a biologist.

4.) My favorite number is the number 4. The chinese think it's unlucky, but I've always thought it looked like a nice rounded number.

5.) I have a tendency to skip numbers when I read. Which is prolly why I suck at math.

6.) I prefer walls of text over numbers. I am also aware that a lot of people aren't into walls of text, and tend to skip over them, which works well for me and my blogging habits.

7.) I prefer asking questions over answering them. I don't like answering autograph books

8.) One recurring dream theme is water and the sea.

9.) One pet peeve is when people make mountains out of your mole hills and give you grief over them.

10.) I love the smell of fresh ink on paper, but I'd still get the pdf version if I can pirate it. Arrr

I don't think I complied with the tagger's requirements. Oh well.

I tag no one.

Philippine Education...

Q: Why did Lapu Lapu kill Magellan?
A: Magellan made his nose bleed. Lapu Lapu doesn't understand a word in Spanish or Portuguese.

The moral of the story is: It's scary when the ignorant are in power.*


I attended the 888 news forum this morning at the Waterfront hotel. The topic? the status of Philippine Education in the Philippines.

I was wondering the other day about what would happen to our workers if all their children wanted to become lawyers. First of all, it'd be impossible, since most farmers and fishermen cannot even send their kids to college, much more to law school... but I was just wondering...

One of the main themes of the discussion was about how most college bound students expect to get into white collar jobs right after graduation. Several of the panelists claimed Philippine graduates had the proper skills and training to sate the human resource demand. Unfortunately they did not have the attitude. A lot of people graduated with honors only to enter the ranks of the unemployed just because everyone wanted to get jobs with title heads and 5-figure salaries right away.

In my opinion, ambition is good. But ambition and ignorance is not a very nice combination.

We are taught in public school that salary is everything, and that only doctors, lawyers, and engineers have great salaries. We are taught that to be the best, you must do anything and everything, which is why our teachers hand us answers for the National Schools Assessment Exam, and why the honor roll is usually lined with the biggest cheats in class. Most children want to become teachers once they start school, but after seeing how much my teachers hated their work, missing class more than I did and all, that dream died quick. That's values formation for the masses for you.

They blame it on the budget. We do have budgets in the education sector. But the question is where does it go? To the painting of new walls, the building of classrooms, the salaries of teachers, to new books. Nothing in research and development, in the updating of old curriculum, in field trips, in quality of education, etc etc.

As for the labor force, there are demands for welders, airport traffic controllers, animators, and whatnot in our country alone. But who would have known about these jobs anyway? Airport Traffic Controllers... wow, that's an interesting title, how come I never heard about it?

There are lots of niches unexplored because people are too afraid or lazy to look at options. People aren't aware of the possibilities and how far their talents can take them because we aren't taught to explore individuality. Does this all go back to the copycat culture discussion? I dare not start that again.

There's no wonder so many students shift from one course to another. They eventually spend more money that way, or worse, never finish at all. It doesn't really matter how long you take in college, as long as you come out fully equipped to help your country by adding to the labor force. God knows we need all the help we can get.

P.S.*I did not mean to defame Lapu lapu in any way, I'm not sure why he killed, or had Magellan killed. Please don't kill me so that I can ask him. Lol

More internship madness

Excited little me toddled off to work yesterday only to get assigned to gather blotter stories from the homicide department.

Disappointed little me's eyes widened the moment I saw the name of the dead dude on the blotter report

Excited little me flew to the newsroom to get more instructions about the story.

Disappointed little me was sent to gather jeepney driver commentaries on a fare hike.

You get the drift.

I was expecting the suicide story would get front paged. Ironically, it was the jeepney story that did. The suicide story was kept somewhere in the depths of the paper to give the family more privacy.

Ironically, I was sent to cover a stockholder meeting for the same family's business. I was seated beside business editors and columnists who had come by the ton from several other media institutions. I was a lone intern from CDN til some other guy with a CDN ID came in.

Before everything began, one lady was yapping about how CDN treated the suicide story. I felt like she was deliberately letting me hear her comments. But how could she have known I was the reporter who got the blotter report? I was just an intern, and I had just co-authored the story along with two other people. Oh well.

After the meeting (which was basically a reading of the hand outs given to us), we were served lunch while we interviewed the big wigs of the company.

It was fine dining, and last I heard, it was illegal to talk about dead relatives on the finner table, so I kept mum. I was hoping though that someone would suddenly ask about the suicide. No luck. Apparently food etiquette is still significant to Cebuano Media, ignoring the fact that the lady next to me stole my salad fork. Lol.

When I got out, one of the personnel handed me a gift box. Lol. I also asked the other CDN dude if he wanted to write the story (since I obviously did not know how to go about it). He said he had another sched and bid me goodbye. The jerk had only come for the food!

I didn't want to look stupid with my article, so I approached the day desk editor and admitted that I was near nosebleed mode with all the technical business terms. She told me to ask for help from Evert. Ulp.

Surprisingly, she was a lot friendlier than I remembered. She said she'd asked sir Marx if it were possible to include business news writing in our curriculum. I wish they had. No matter how big a head ache learning how to translate biz lingo would be, it should be nothing compared to the embarassment fresh mass comm graduates would get when their editors assign them to do business articles.

She gave me a crash course on power economics and told me to just write an article based on the company's projects and sth. After a few pages, my headache was clearing up and I finally understood most of what my notes meant.

Then my notebook went missing.

I phone interviewed Uncle Mulong regarding the fare increases, submitted both articles, and went home.

I'm pooped.

Internship Madness

If the brief stint in Manila was hohumm boring, I can't believe how busy I've suddenly become with print internship!

I remember mentioning a few entries past that I was wary of print internship, especially at CDN because it was rumoured to be the least intern-friendly environment in Cebu?

The HR told me to report at 6:30 pm last Thursday to be given a beat. The editor, Miss Connie, was surprisingly congenial (despite rumors that she was some sort of Dragon Lady). She told me to go to Mandaue the next morning, to send a text message on the gist of my story before 2, and to submit the story before 6.

Next morning, I realized I had absolutely no idea how to go about it. I treated the experience like a game. I approached one of the information desk people (footmen of the castle.lol) and asked if I could speak to the Public Information Officer (The Earl's minstrel). After being sent to 3 different people, I found Ms Louella, who I asked for the mayor's itinerary (charisma check...). You get the drift.

After a trip to the City Engineer's office, I got my story (and a few bits of chismis about CDN), so I went back to the office to type the story.

As soon as I got there though, I was sent to cover a Qur'an recital event at Jones. The event was at 3, around 15 minutes away. The only way to make it on time was to get a taxi. I was almost broke.

I had the taxi stop at an ATM machine and got to the program, albeit a little late. I noticed that Muslims were far more courteous than most, and it was harder to spot who were the interviewees compared to the rest. I approached a lady with an ID holder who lead me to the Regional Director himself. He entertained me for the remainder of the program; gave me a copy of their souvenir program and ordered some food for me. Very gentlemanly. He looked like William Dafoe (Green Goblin of the 2002 Spider man movie).

When I got back to the office, I was finally able to type the story and the story after that. The office's computers were running on Linux and were having problems. I couldn't save my articles without the help of the IT personnel. Talk about defeating the purpose. Did I mention ate Evert snubbed me when I greeted her? I didn't know people actually did that these days. I refuse to believe it was actual conceit that pushed her to snub us interns, despite us being from the same school. That would be too shallow. And I don't know her that well to automatically assume she is shallow. Lol.

Sometime in the evening, one of the people went around with a box full of rolled up sheets of paper. Whoever got the paper with a star gets to cover a concert. I got a blank paper.

I went home at 7:00, after dinner with Mara at the office cafeteria. Their fish had too much vinegar. Before going home, Miss Mars, the day desk editor, gave me instructions for my assignment the next day. I was going to Dalaguete.

~~~

I came 30 minutes too early, and was silent on the way to Dalaguete. The seminar thingy was interesting (it was about restoration and sth), and guess what? The parish of Dalaguete has wii! One of the members of the heritage commission, Fr. Bryan, asked me if I wanted to play. Lol. Breakfast and Lunch were served, and on the way home, the people in the car got into a very animated (not to mention outdated) discussion on the environment. I kept poised and proper the entire time, as if it was that hard to act perky, staying in a car with people who reminded you of your mother's friends was enough to put a dapper on any enthusiasm whatsoever.

I arrived at the office later than expected because of traffic, and sat down to write my article. I found the article I had written the day before in a little corner inside the paper (it was short after all). Though the paragraphs were arranged more meaningfully than I had in my draft, a few details made me flinch. I have to learn how to satisfy the editor...

I went home at 7:30pm.

I'm actually looking forward to going to work. But this time, I'm bringing my own laptop.

The end of bayotness

I won 1st runner up. Lol. For more details, visit:
http://www.biliranisland.com/blogs/?p=116

I did the night elf dance for the fun wear competition; Although the gowns sucked, I was able to get a pretty color compared to the others (turquoise); Jay-R spent most of his serenading time beside me; Rico Lucena gave me his thumbs up for ABS CBN (TV Internship Myats... lol); I can afford to give my laptop an upgrade; I made friends; and the figurine/trophies for the special awards are cute :D

In fact, I went shopping this morning. I bought myself accesories for my laptop; a RAM upgrade; a laptop bag; shoes, a jacket, and an umbrella. :) nuahahahaha XD

I'd be ever so grateful if you...

...registered at http://www.biliranisland.com/forum/register.php, verified, and voted at http://www.biliranisland.com/forum/showthread.php?t=1720

I'm Miss Maripipi in case you get confused...

Yes ladies and gents, I've joined another pageant. I'm determined to redeem my uglehness from the last time (i looked like some sort of silver fish...in a human beauty pageant) First prize's 20k plus a trip to Hong Kong.

The pageant's on May 9 featuring Janno Gibbs, tickets cost from 100php to 1000php me thinks. For more info, visit http://missbilirantourism.biliranisland.com/2008/

20 things to do before 20

1.)Learn how to drive a car
2.)Earn $1000
3.)Cook a full course meal
4.)Learn how to sew
5.)Write a book
6.)climb a mountain
7.)Film an indie flick
8.)Sell a print on DA
9.)Go to Bohol
10.)Pose nude (srsly, before I grow fat or old and wrinkly)
11.)Organize a surprise party
12.)Contribute to Reader's Digest
13.)Make the Dean's list (ala lang)
14.)LARP
15.)Learn how to speak another language
16.)Visit another country
17.)See someone die
18.)Watch a birthing
19.)Perform onstage for theatre
20.)Have an album launched (Dama de Noche)

Ambitious? I'm currently working on #1 :D

School days are here again

The beginning of a new school year/sem always gets me high. I wonder if it'll last long though.

I still haven't finished enrolling. It's not so much on me sucking, it's just that the CRS or Computerized Registration System sucks.

Oh well. The most I've accomplished in two days is to gather the requirements for enrolling and getting a number for Monday.

My classes all begin at 10:30 and end at 4. No in between breaks, all classes in the mass comm wing. I will become a consistent ghost this time. But I doubt I'd be wandering around school a lot. Unless I had to wait for meetings which usually take place at 5:30.

I can roll around bed as long as I want and still make it to school on time. I'll have more time to go places without being interrupted with a class to get to.

I have to publish this month to complete my Journ grade. I have to publish at least 2 articles, and I still have no idea when my Comm 140 removals will take place. Then I'm adding another subject. Possibly an elective. Or maybe a GE. I dunno.

As for projects, Rachelle wants to push through with staging a play. I was excited about it at first, but now I'm not so sure. Maybe we could stage something other than Pregenesis. Maybe we could do something that's already out there.

Then there's the prom. And I'm unfortunately the Program directress. Fack. I don't want it to turn out the same predictable way.

Then there's Otaku Day. I suggested a fund raiser for the prom. It would be called "Otaku Day". It would have contests for artists, a cosplay competition, and would be culminated by a concert. We're still in the planning/letter drafting process. Excited about it actually.

This sem doesn't sound too bad to me....

well, so far.

Manic Depression

I found an 80's book entitled "How to Cope With Depression" in the house. It started with the definition of Clinical Depression, including symptoms and signs. 'Sounds family...' I thought, and read on. Then I found Manic Depression. Bingo. I had all the symptoms. There were times when I felt like I was on top of the world, totally in control of myself, etc etc etc (Mania). Then there were times I felt like shit (Depression). Symptoms of Mania included excessive energy, lessening of sleep, giddiness for no reason, irritability, stubborness, vanity & conceit. Depression on the other hand included constant self depreciation, lack of energy, irregular sleeping habits (including waking up at odd hours), etc. Yep. Could be it.

Sometimes I have random thoughts that seem to have no connection whatsoever. Thinking back, there was a time during the restaging of Pregenesis where my private blog posts seemed like collages. My friends also confronted me for being "others". These were actually exhibitions of Mania. Then there are times when it's hard for me to string a coherent thought. It would be hard for me to understand abstract concepts, and I'd be very absent minded. This was actually a manifestation of depression.

Then I read the testimonials, and thought I was reading my personal blog. Lulz. A Nicole was exhibiting the same signs of depression as I was early in her life, and as the years went on, her actions became more drastic and more self-damaging. Another woman whose name I forgot was increasingly paranoid in the work place. I remember screaming at someone at school because I thought she was talking behind my back. Shit. If I'm going to get worse, I need help.

My mom came and found me with the book and told me she had manic-depression in college. That explains a lot. She then told me it was through strong faith in Jesus that she got over it. Ack. In retrospect, I'm starting to think my YFC days were exhibitions of Mania (thinking that there was a voice talking to me when I closed my eyes, the calming sensation that washed over me when I was imagined I was in God's embrace..etc etc)

I googled up manic depression and found out it was now called the Bipolar disorder. That explains it. There were several cures for it, all tablets except for Lithium.

Woot. The green fairy. I wonder what it'll do to me.

Christmas in Halloween

I slept all afternoon and woke up to thunder and lightning. Auntie Mama had just arrived from Manila, and was telling everyone about her visit to Eat Bulaga. She had been chatting with Allan K in bisaya, asked Tito Sen and Wally to pose with her in a picture, among other things. Due to the black out, we had to eat by candlelight. Everyone was huddled over the kitchen table for dinner (barbecue) and after a very long time, we seemed like a proper family, talking and laughing over food. Even Raushan was there.

Then the lights came back on. A plug started smoking, so we shut off the electricity while Raushan took the plug off. We went back to dinner in the dark. Food always tastes better in the dark.

We had the electricity back to fix the christmas tree Auntie brought back from Manila. I was put in charge of trimming the tree, with the kids as my (slaves) assistants.

When we were through, the lights and music were turned on, and we started recalling Christmas memories.

Karl talked about how they'd lie on the animal skin rug under the tree and watch the lights back when they still lived in Yakal. I recalled watching the lights while I swung from a playground set we had in our house back in Paranaque while the Midi Christmas carols played.

The younger children listened eagerly and I realized one thing: I'm old -_-;;

Lolo and Lola's picture hung on the wall behind the Christmas Tree. I don't think they minded that we decided to spend time cherishing the living on the day of the dead.

Fangirling

I understand why there are so many brainless fangirls out there... this is mind numbing:


Gackt is hot. Though the Vanilla video had too much fanservice for some, it was what lead me to Gackt in the first place. And he probably looks better with his clothes on. But he fits well in fantasy land.

In fact, many thing fit well in fantasy land. I don't agree with the song "Get out of my Dreams and into my car". Sadly fantasy files aren't prosaic ready. They get damaged in the process of transmutation. Perfection is never possible in the real world. So I stay the quiet fangirl, never letting my fantasies be realized. Because there will always be something wrong with it.

So Dumbledore's Gay

So what?

Rowlings tells the world Dumbledore was gay. For what? The story's over, and it won't change anything. It doesn't really explain anything and it seems more like a marketing strategy to renew interest in the story.

Maybe she was accused of being a homophobe because of the lack of any open homosexual relationships in the series. Maybe she noticed nobody cared so much for Dumbledore in the aftermath. Maybe she's just letting the fanfiction get to her. Publicity stunts this blatant are annoying.

Earthquakes

I woke up to an earthquake this morning. It was particularly rough, and a crucifix fell on my head. It actually broke in two.

We have mild earthquakes frequently in Biliran, so it wasn't anything new. Everytime we had earthquakes, I'd be thinking it'd be stronger than the last. Everytime we had earthquakes, I'd be thinking I was going to die. And I wouldn't think of anything else.

I had a conversation with Jay, my high school bestfriend, the other day about Joshua's death. She asked me if I was prepared to die.

I don't like studying for exams because I think if I listened to class, the knowledge I gathered would be enough to pull me through. Same as death. Whether I am going anywhere after this, I don't have to study for it. All I have to do for now is pay attention in class. All I have to do now is live life to the fullest and stop wondering about what'll happen when I die. Because after death, I won't care how many people go to my funeral. Because I won't be there.

The worst the quake did was muddle up the water. I have no idea what the water has, but it's turned white. I was only able to bathe this morning because there was enough water from last night. We've been drinking softdrinks all day.

Goodbye Joshua

I’ll be doing my biggest fan a belated favor by letting him share the vanity of seeing their name online: Joshua D. Bueno (Feb7,1989-Oct18,2007). I wonder if the dead browse the web though.

He was battling with Leukemia while I was having imaginary nose bleeding from all my finals work. The bodily fluid I shed the day I received the news included no tears.

I simply wasn’t in the mood to mourn. I thought I had already mourned his loss 3 years ago when we had graduated from high school. I developed the habit of crying over people during separations and forgetting all about them afterwards. He was one of the last to wish me well then. He said I’d get far. But then again, I did say he was my biggest fan. He always went out of his way to give me encouragement and praise. I never really took him seriously. I always regarded him as a delusional bumpkin (whom I suspected was too shy to go out of the closet) just because he thought I was worth anything. As far as I was concerned, it was the last time I’d see the boy. I was right.

As soon as I started college, I tried forgetting everything. I changed my number, my friendster account, my name. I tried fitting into a new life without the supposed dead. I couldn’t prevent meeting old classmates, and hearing about how others were doing. I heard Bueno was a constant Dean’s Lister, besides being active in the student council of St Paul’s Business School in Tacloban. I also heard he had developed a fashion sense and had found himself a beauty queen of a girlfriend (there goes my closet queen theory).

On October 16, I received a message from my mother that Bueno was in the hospital. They were apparently discussing me. My mom told me about the pride in his voice when he talked about what he had been hearing about me. It was as if he was seeing me on the road of success as he predicted. He didn’t know how off course I was. My mom suggested I call him. But I was running low on load, and I had a hundred other excuses.

It wasn’t real to me until I actually saw his corpse and talked to his mom. Our eyes brimmed with tears as she recounted how optimistic he was despite the odds. He’d accept any amount his parents would give him. He had no vices, and even to the very end, he told his mother to keep on fighting, because like chess, even if you lose a piece, you can still win.

I realized he never became a different person. He would always be my bumpkin friend, and the least I could have done was to call him up while he was still alive. We never really know what we have until it is lost. And I never knew how much I really cared until it dawned upon me that I’d never hear his cheesy lines anymore, and know that he meant every word.

Goodbye Joshua. Though I never told you, you could’ve been larger than life.

The weekend that was (an excuse to update)

I realize it's been a while since I last posted. Well, I had an eventful weekend

Last friday, Faith came to visit; It was ate Mina's 21st bday; and we were filming for a docu on Cebuano Nightlife... any drunks willing to be interviewed?

Faith visited against her father's wishes. Admirable for a young lady to have spunk, and though I should be worried that her father threatened me for being a bad influence, I'm jealous that she was able to do something as exhilerating as running away (I beg to differ, she didn't need any influencing).

I would have gone back to interview my friends instead, but they warned me not to come. They claimed there was something I did not want to see. So I stayed in Paseo, wondering if I was missing a great video opportunity.

Saturday night was weird. I went "bar-hopping" with Rachelle and Chloe. Before the bar-hopping, I had dinner at Jollibee and got tricked into singing an MYMP song >.<...

The night that followed has made me come to the conclusion that all barhopping males are stupid and just looking for an easy lay, while the girls are so desperate for companionship, they'd actually settle for the easy lay. maybe I'm just saying this cause all our interviewees were incoherent males who asked for our numbers.

The things I do for class...

Stating the obvious

The internet has spawned a new kind of vanity and self possession. As I mentioned a few entries back, publication is a heady experience. Blogs and the like are blatant forms of self advertisement. So we dweebs who have no RL (real lives) spend most of our time on the internet trying to convince other people (or ourselves) that we're cool. We write about our lives as if everyday was a thrilling episode

And here come the other spawn of the internet. The critics who laugh at "petty attempts" at self expression. Those who aren't afraid to express their opinion. And like the dweebs who tend to be overkill on what they're about, these smart alecks find a playground to unleash their inner bullies.

And once we've defined something about ourselves and are aware of the definition, we try to go above the definition.

So there you have it. I'm tired of being a dweeb and a smart ass. I'm tired of being a push-over and tired of being mean.

The Perfect Reason for Headache

I saw Battle Royale earlier in the day, c/o of RJ's computer. I mourn for my poor brain cells. There were so many unnecessary scenes and inconsistencies. It was a poor excuse for violence in cute uniforms.

We watched Witches of Oz, expecting to see something close to the Broadway musical, Wicked. We were disappointed. I wasted three-days worth of allowance for it. The redeeming factors of it were Ate Chai's performance and the Tin Man's lines. It was Battle Royale all over again. But this time, there was no excuse. I'm going to go hungry for three days for nothing.

The girl who played Dorothy was bigger than most of the cast. SO much for being a "little girl". Her voice was not strong enough for stage. Her attempt at an accent made most of what she was saying incomprehensible, and she kept flipping her bangs over the side. She was wearing lip gloss and blue eyeshadow. Emo Lolita was too composed to be a little child.

As for the rest of the cast, The Hip Hopper Scarecrow who kept going "Yo" didn't rap AT ALL. The Punk Tin Man was, well, heartless (yay). The Rasta Lion was cute at least (made me think of Pooh) and the minor rollers were so obviously choreographed.

It's amazing how they got so many sponsors and shit for them to play at SM City. The sound system wasn't good and all the publicity I was ever aware of was that from the rumor mill. At one point, one of my friends mentioned I should have had Pregenesis produced. That's how bad Witches of Oz was. I'm sorry ate Chai. You were good. But a sprinkling of talents does not save an entire production. I believe your talents (Te Chai and the few other talented people in the production) were wasted on that play.

I have a few questions though:

What the hell did the production committee do to the money?

What half wit wrote the script?

Why did they attempt to impersonate Elvis Presley?

Why didn't he sing an Elvis song?

And what's with the trinket?

Why did Dorothy sing "Home"? It's too mature and musically out of place for the story.

Why'd they even make a yellow brick road when it made them look as if they were walking up and down a platform?

And why'd they get something that looked as if it came from a Taxidermist's shop to play Toto when he didn't even have any significant participation in the story?!?

I'm not even dissing the Glinda that sounded like Glinda from Wicked minus the funniness that made her interesting anymore or the fact that we weren't warned that it was going to be for a younger audience (more like from 3-9 y.o). But then the children would probably go to sleep.

Gimme Something That Rhymes With Eeks

I am an escapist. But I do not drown myself in mind numbing spoon feeding from the boob tube. I roleplay.



But not that way.

Philippine Speculative Fiction Vol.3

From Dean Alfar:

I am now accepting submissions of short fiction pieces for consideration for the anthology "Philippine Speculative Fiction Vol.3".

Speculative fiction is the literature of wonder that spans the genres of fantasy, science fiction, horror and magic realism or falls into the cracks in-between.

1. Only works of speculative fiction will be considered for publication. As works of the imagination, the theme is open and free.

2. Stories must cater to an adult sensibility. However, if you have a Young Adult story that is particularly well-written, send it in.

3. Stories must be written in English.

4. Stories must be authored by Filipinos or those of Philippine ancestry.

5. Preference will be given to original unpublished stories, but previously published stories will also be considered. In the case of previously published material, kindly include the title of the publishing entity and the publication date. Kindly state also in your cover letter that you have the permission, if necessary, from the original publishing entity to republish your work.

6. First time authors are welcome to submit. In the first two volumes, there was a good mix of established and new authors. Good stories trump literary credentials anytime.

7. No multiple submissions. Each author may submit only one story for consideration.

8. Each story’s word count must be no fewer than 2,500 words and no more than 5,000 words.

9. All submissions must be in Rich Text Format (.rtf – save the document as .rft on your word processor) and attached to an email to this address: dean@kestrelimc.com. Submissions received in any other format will be deleted, unread.

10. The subject of your email must read: PSF3 Submission: (title) (word count); where (title) is replaced by the title of your short story, without the parentheses, and (word count) is the word count of your story, without the parentheses. For example - PSF 3 Submission: How My Uncle Brought Home A Diwata 4500.

11. All submissions must be accompanied by a cover letter that includes your name, brief bio, contact information, previous publications (if any).

12. Deadline for submissions is September 15, 2007. After that date, final choices will be made and letters of acceptance or regret sent out via email.

13. Target publishing date is December 2007/January 2008.

14. Compensation for selected stories will be 2 contributor’s copies of the published anthology as well as a share in aggregrate royalties.

Kindly help spread the word. Feel free to cut and paste or link to this on your blogs or e-groups.

Thanks,

Dean Francis Alfar
Online Source: http://www.filipinowriter.com/philippine-speculative-fiction-vol-3

~~~

It sounds interesting enough...

MS Paint

The most ancient of digital art software is still alive and kicking. But does anybody still use it AT ALL?!?



apparently they still do.

When my father first introduced me to a computer, I was 4 or 5, and he said it was going to be the most amazing contraption in the world. Everything that seemed worthwhile to me at the time lay in art, so I asked "But can you draw with it?". And he introduced me to MS Paint.

Ever since then, if I wasn't in my room playing with dolls or covering every blank surface with my drawings (to the horror of my mother and the maids), I was in front of the computer, trying to draw with the mouse.

In elementary, I got a little better. I made themed drawings of my cousins (though they barely looked anything LIKE my cousins, made them into wallpapers, and played with themes to match the wallpapers. My brother's favorite color at the time was red and his theme looked like a furnace.



Digital art is booming. And its roots are decaying.

"Use Me"

I know I'm boring. I bore myself to death.

How I wish I weren't so convenient. I wish people actually sought me out for myself and not because of what I could do.

But I'm not really very interesting company. I can't talk about issues because I rarely read the news, I forget a lot and I confuse people with my "explanations". What a poor mass comm student I make. The only sense I make is in song, and I don't really want to do anything about it. I can't even talk about the masters of music. I barely know the details. I am amazed at people who know the full history and breadth of such issues. And then there's the vanity (I keep a blog don't I? which means I talk to myself a lot, and like to keep track of my selfish musings, enough proof of my vanity.) I'd be the perfect recluse.

The trouble is that I'm lonely. So I look for people to fill in the void. Unfortunately for me, when I look for them, I never find them. I'm there when I'm needed. Sure. And when I'm not, I might as well dissappear into the shadows (assuming it were possible).

And nobody wants to be around whiny insecure kids who have a tendency towards emo rambling. I am convinced that I have a sticky on my forehead that says "USE ME" and it is only invisible to me.

Cook Out is tonight!!!

We're playing again, defending champions so to speak, but I don't want to think about it. Too much pressure on the vocal chords you see :)

I hope I don't forget to move about the stage again... Im losing my voice...

Killing time and fairytales

I live in fairytales too much

In the mornings I'm Beauty and The Beast rolled into one. Most of the time there's more of the beast though.

During class I'm Scheherazade, making up new stories to fill my notebook to bide away the sleepiness. No notebook and I'm Sleeping Beauty.

After class I'm Rip Van Winkle, catching up on lost sleep and waking up to find out the world revolved without me and much has happened. I fell asleep while reading a book and dreamt about big fat rabbits running for senator or something, and woke up to see Heno talking to Gary. No wonder the rabbit sounded familiar.

Whoever came up with the phrase "killing time" forgot that "time waits for no one" and "nobody is time's master".

~~~

I got saved from my math exam tomorrow. Thank God for mundane holidays that just pop out now and then as wonderful surprises. I'm meeting my first years tomorrow for an ukay session :D

This isn't a review. It's just a rant

I just finished Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows last night, and I couldn't help but think of Philippine politics. The measures Voldemort took to ensure the whole wizarding community was under his command. The exclusion of muggle borns from entering Hogwarts, the abuse of the rights for magical creatures like Elves and Goblins, the dissappearance of those who prompted to fight back, or those known to be in the Order of the Phoenix, the oppression of students who joined Dumbledore's Army... it all sounded too familiar.

The way Rowlings wrote of the whole muggle/pureblood thing, I could't help but think about TOFI. Voldemort's reign promised all purebloods the priveledges of magical education, while mudbloods would be excluded from what used to be an option to everyone who had the potential to do magic.

And that was just the top of my list of parallelisms.

Some part of the book was a little absurd (the part where Harry decides to die), a little dissappointing (when Harry talks to Dumbledore in his mind, that was obviously put there to justify Harry not dying), and the epilogue was very very very unsatisfying.

What I'm tring to say is that I practically grew up with Harry, so what does he end up as after 6 years at Hogwarts and all the stuff he's learned? Does he become an auror? Does he end up as a Muggle doctor or a quidditch captain? So what if he ends up with Ginny? We knew that already! How come all his children are named after other people, and don't even have unique second names and such? What happens to Teddy? Is he a werewolf too? What about Ron and Hermione? We already know they lived in the muggle world, but what as? And Luna? And George?

Maybe the ending might have been more interesting had Harry died.

Singing for nothing

This weekend was crazy. We had gigs for both Saturday and Sunday, the first being in FMJ for Andres' Revolusongs, the second being in CICC for Lantugi's VMDC (Visayas Mindanao Debate Championship).

We were late to both because of the lack of money for transportation. At least my horoscope was right about that. Money went out my pocket like water out of a canvas bag. Very bad.

The Revolusongs gig started really early, and when we got there at 9, we were made the second to the last band to play. And we thought the night had just begun.

We got there while a screamo band was playing. The music was fine, although the vocalist sounded like Kuya Epot, and me thinks even the prince of imps could have done better.

The next band was a Paramore rip off who did Misery Business like everybody else. They were good. A good copy though. I wish people would stop covering Paramore, it's starting to get annoying.

I realized I did move like a guy, so I wore pants to lessen the chances of looking like a drag queen. I wore red lipstick and realized it looks better than black lipstick on me. Woot. Zyra said I looked like an early-millennium Madonna. Char. The red lipstick minimized the chances of me looking like a mime too.

We played 4 songs, Paint it Black, Baby Doll, Sleeping Beauty and Lakas Tama. I felt confident about moving a bit, so I tried to move around as much as possible. Lola, I need a choreographer.

After the gig, Zy said that the moment we faced the audience, half the guys in the audience straightened their backs. I still spoke like a guy though. But when I started singing, everything was right in the world, even thought ate Chloe insists we made a lot of mistakes, nobody seemed to mind.

Then we headed for the place beside Tableya to eat. We ended up ordering a couple of beers too. The party was composed of yours truly, Ate Chloe, Ate Kim, Zyra, Kuya Epot, Ate Joan, Bang2 and Ernest (Pol sci 2nd year, classmate ni Zy).

It turns out they brought Ernest along to serve as my new object of affection, but sparks were flying in other directions. Bang and Ernest hit it off well, spending most of the night talking to each other. Kuya Epot was busy with his phone, and we were all trying to piss him by screaming stuff for the person on the other line (which in this case is of course, Faith) to hear.

Example:
"Pot, tagay na nimo" -the screamer remembers that Faith's a drinker too and that we really ARE drinking which throws off the purpose of trying to mislead.c/o anonymous
"Pot, ah, ah, ah (orgasmic cries)"c/o ate Joan
"Pot, I thought you were going to have my baby?!?"c/o ate Kim

At one point, the streaming music was "I'll Be" by Edwin McCain, and we all sang along to Kuya Epot and his phone. Even the people from the other tables were joining in. Nyahahaha.

We had enough at around 4 am.

I woke up at around 10 to have lunch with Bang, then I went back to sleep. I woke up at 3 and read the Deathly Hallows ebook I got from a forum. I'm currently on my way to the Gringotts break in chapter.

At around 5, Ton2 called to ask if we were riding with Serenata to the CICC. How could we when I hadn't even had a bath yet, and we were still going to have a final run through at Clav's (which actually took us about 30 minutes)? We were expected to be at CICC at 7.

We got ready (Bang and I in less than 5 minutes, putting on little black dresses, a little face color and boots, and ate Chloe in at least 20, getting her foundation on.), hopped onto a jeep and found ate Kim and ate Gee sitting in the studio, and I felt terribly overdressed.

When we got there, a boy band was getting ready to play. By boy band, I mean a group of pretty boys. They were called "Paradigm Shift". Jego commented that the name sounded appropriate for Debate. They said they played "Progressive Rock". They sounded like a Cueshe/Urbandub hybrid. In fairness, they knew how to play their instruments, and their riffs and stuff were more complicated than ours, but I'm not a fan of that kind of music. The kind of complications I like are the kind Muse or Mozart supplies.

Tita Lolit said I looked gorgeous, so I put it to the test. We didn't have a bass guitar or a gadget, so we borrowed from the boy band. They agreed to wait for us to play. Sam left me to think of something to show my appreciation, and it turns out all they wanted was information on Samantha. Lol.

I hung out with them for a while, and all I can remember is the bassist's name, Larkins, because I had a sim named Lady Larkin before, and because he was the only non-shy creature there (because he was the one who asked for info on Sam). They didn't believe we were going to play Lakas Tama. Sam just told me it was too loud for the event so we decided we wouldn't play it.

When the final round began, ate Gee stayed inside to listen to the debate. The rest of the band stayed outside lest we needed a quick retouch after devouring food. I didn't have much of an appetite because of pre-gig jitters, so I ate very little.

We played while the judges were deciding on who won the final round. My nerves got to me and I wasn't able to do the movement I practiced on at Clav's. Good thing it wasn't the sort of crowd that moshed. We played Sleeping Beauty, then Baby Doll, then Paint it Black. I was racking my head with spiels, but I was never good at them, so I decided against talking. In other words, I botched things up. And once again, the crowd didn't notice. Am I just too hard on myself or do I really suck?

The crowd seemed too ho hum for my tastes and I felt something missing. I asked Sam over the mic if she'd let us play Lakas Tama. The moment I mentioned the song, people started cheering. She nodded her head. That was all we were waiting for. It appears that was what they were waiting for too.

I wonder if we could ever make a song that would amount to Lakas Tama. T_T

Ate Chloe had asked Luke to tape the performance, to at least have something to upload on the yet-to-be-realized website. I watched the video and cringed.

The sound system people looked over my shoulder and watched the video. They asked if the camera person was a guy or a girl. Ate Chloe answered their questions. Then they started teasing me because I got zoomed in most of the time. I tried to reason that the camera person was just zooming on where the music was coming from, which was why he was zooming in on ate Chloe and Bang's hands, Mama Gee's, and ate Kim too. I just happened to be front man, which was why most of the vid space was given to me. All the while I was cringing and thinking, "Ayoko na makita ang pagmumukha ko. Ang kapal ng mukha kong magfront man, ang pangit koooooooooooooooooo". To stop the cringing, I stopped watching and started listening. Even that made me cringe. Sir Billy was right, people do have the tendency to hate their own voices. >.<

Jego came to say Julie was enthralled, Julie came to ask for mp3s of the songs, and Chad came to ask for an album. Nanay, pressure... Then they said byebye and Julie kissed me on the cheek.

After the gig, Sam told me someone texted her asking where she found us bloodsuckers. Wow. I've just become a mosquito. It's ate Chloe's fault. The gothic music doesn't mean you have to look vampiric. But the look works, and I was tempted to ask if Sam's textmate wanted to be fed on by a willing guitarist.

There was so much food left over, that I wondered how much the organizers spent on the extra food for the performers when they could have let the performers eat whatever was left over?

Sam's family dropped us home, were we slipped into our pajamas and went out like lights. What a weekend.

Detatchment works two ways.

My mother made an observation about me today. I don't look at people in the eye when I talk to them, I don't listen clearly and I am not very enthusiastic with my responses to whatever the person has to say.

Does this mean I'm autistic or something? Lol.

~~~

Why is it that when you get something you really bad when you aren't expecting it anymore, the object isn't as important as you imagined it to be when you first wanted it?

I got a camera today. Whoopee. That doesn't change the fact that I'm not photogenic. And since it's nighttime and life sped by too fast for me to take any pictures from that point to this, I have nothing to upload.

I may be able to actually start doing something I've always wanted to: fetish photography. Nyahahaha.

Blasphemies

How many times have I wondered what it was like if things weren't the way they were, how things could have been if something else had happened, or what could really have happened, and what if all this were just a big joke? What if my real body was lying prone in some galactic amusement park and this was my fantasy? What if I had already died and found out I had the power to return to any state I wanted to? I wonder where I came back to... I wonder if I lived life any differently. I wonder if I'm on the right track. I wonder which mistakes I should not have made and which mistakes I should have made.

~~~

Mom took me to a family friend's accesory factory yesterday. I wasn't too interested in the painting of the beads and stuff, it all seemed pretty out of season to me (they were making summer accesories to be exported overseas), until tita Amy brought us to the showroom. It was like stepping into a treasure box. You should check out the site, though the really good stuff was in the showroom. The stuff was amazing. They used different styles that you didn't see just anywhere, but their stuff didn't look out of place with today's fads.

For a minute there I thought I turned kikay. Well, the stuff would look good on people, but I'm no willing victim.

~~~

Hello Multiply

I was a member of this site about 2 years ago. I couldn't manage my first account, since I ws already too busy with 3 other blogs.

Public blogging needs an audience. Blogger isn't exactly the best place to get one if you're just ranting about college and band life. I also came back to Mulitply because I found out it has a feature that lets you upload music. I might upload some of my band's music one of these days.

But thanks to cross posting, I won't have to worry about not being able to manage multiple accounts.

My blogger site is mutangpusa.blogspot.com. My multiply site is newmoonmaiden.multiply.com

Unfortunately, (correct me if I'm wrong) I don't think multiply has a comments box. People who have something to say may just post their comment in my blogger account or just say your piece at the guestbook at the multiply site.

Many thanks to those who took their time to read.

Metamorphoses

The wind wearies us down
until we are old and pleading
for the wind to take us away
Away from the sick and bleeding
Unaware that it is the wind
And gravity that wearied us down
And it is wind and gravity
That offered me my frown

I still dunno what to call the series. Any suggestions?

~~~

I wasn't kicked off the play yet. But I'm talking to the production people. I have to quit. Let's just hope they don't make me pay.

So much for glory in the field of theatre.

So what do I do now?

Yesterday, we were able to make musical arrangements for 2 other songs: Baby Doll (which used to be "Dolly Polly", but we changed it to its current name since that's what we used to refer it as anyway); Daydreamer and Ngano Man. The Baby Doll song is ready for the studio while the two other songs still need guitars and drums.

We're really going to start taking the website thing seriously. It's almost a year since the idea first popped out of nowhere but we haven't even recorded anything to be uploaded.

So the gigs are piling up, a website is on the way (pretty easy when your guitarist's a comsci student), we have a title to defend (Cook Out is on Aug 10) and we've decided on a logo. What do we need to start the ball rolling?

A present keyboardist.

When we were jamming at the boarding house yesterday, even ate Kim was there (even without the presence of a drumset). Si Mama Gee ra gyu'y wala. It feels like being in a relationship where your someone can't find time for you and won't even tell you why. Ang panget. Para akong may boypren (girlfriends at least tell you why they can't make it to dates).

I once saw an OPM album with only 6 songs in it. Mistula has 4 songs in their website. If we could only start a website and put adsense in it, we'd be rich by now (considering Bang2's showmanship...and I don't mean to brag but several people have been asking for mp3s already)

I hope that by the time she's ready to commit I haven't fallen out of love with the band yet.

~~~

School is boring.

~~~

I want to work for a comic book... but I need a computer to practice. I can't wait til the 21st, but I have a feeling the acquisition of a laptop will again be delayed. ohpleaseohpleaseohpleaseohplease... I hope world order decides I've had too many dissapointments in this cycle already and decides to give me a laptop and give the band Mama Gee's commitment.

Intimacy problems

i blew it. I really blew it yesterday. I threw a fit when I was about to do the cuddling scene with my husband again. I w

as trying to hold it inside. But no matter what I tried to tell myself about ating the words RAPE were hopping about in my head.

So much for acting.

Darklings

The dates and times are sometimes insignificant. They meld into one another like lovers in the dark, where names are unimportant and emotions are almighty.

I feel like a frosh again, except this time, I'm looking at my freshie year through someone else's eyes. Someone else's doing the stupid-frosh-thing for me. There are several people who remind me of others, and if I look at the people they remind me of, they aren't who I thought they were anymore. There are several things that feel comfortable, and several others that aren't what they were supposed to be.

Memories come back from the dark. Unearthed by another familiar face that isn't quite familiar. Things are happening all over again, but this time, I'm playing a different role. I wonder if this is how Alice Dixon felt when she was cast to play her ex-role's mother for "Ok ka Fairy ko" (I watched this as a child).

We're going to be playing at school this Tuesday for an RH forum. We'll most probably be doing Paint it Black, Sleeping Beauty, and Get Free. Then there's going to be another gig this friday for freshie's night, on top of my play rehearsals that end at 10pm. leche.

Try juggling an organization, play rehearsals, and band rehearsals PLUS gigs all in one go. Let's see if you don't go crazy.

hey wait, you wouldn't even try if you weren't already crazy to begin with.

The business is fun. Hey wait, add schoolwork to that, i just found out it was fun too this morning, if only our teachers showed up more often.

ई हवे बीन गोने फ़ॉर कुइते अ व्हिले हवें't ई?

Thank you very much, blogger, for turning my title into gibberish. Even arabs wouldn't be able to understand that (since it's english turned into Arabic font).

Oh well. I forgot what the title was anyway.

I auditioned the other day for a Ma Gimo production of "Our Town". No news about it yet.

~~~

I've started writing the sequel to Pregenesis but I haven't come up with a title yet.

~~~

I'm starting to feel old. My face is showing stress, even though I am prolly the most laid-back "busy" person in the world. Blame it on insomnia, blame it on not diligently hunting for the perfect facial moisturizer, blame it on anything, but you cannot blame it on stress.

I've become a junior. I consider the 3rd year the best in any educational level. It's the year where you can be called a regular expert on the comes and goings of your school. It's the year you get to lord over two other year levels. It's also the year where the year before you stop picking on you to teach you what you have to know in between worrying about their class standings or their thesis proposals. In Grade 3 back in Ann Arbor Montessori, that was the year that yours trully earned a bestfriend and a hang out. 3rd year highschool was the year I stopped trying to fit in with my classmates and exploring the alternatives. I wonder what this year has in store for me...

In a few years, I'll be worrying about work. I'll be worrying about what to feed my children. if I don't have children yet, I'll be worrying about looking for someone who'd have them with me before I become too old to ovulate (this will be particularly challenging since the male species prefers submissive women for partners), If I do end up being a spinster, I'll still end up worrying about all my godchildren (assuming of course that my friends don't end up with my fate and have immense numbers of brats for me to spoil). Oh yes. I love children. If I were a sim (And yes, I've played myself on Sims2 several times) I'd be a family sim. But if I choose the solitary life, I'd probably be in a different country writing horror novels that actually reflect my frustrations of not having my own children.

Children are like dust in the wind (I couldn't help myself, I just HAD to use the line). Their skulls easily crack and their skin is too soft. Plus they babble and sputter and swallow anything they get their hands on (since they use their tongues to "feel"). They grow, vomit, pee, poo, scream, and cry on women who don't want them, and they make googoo eyes on the women who do, as if to say "don't you wish your baby was cute like me?". So many girls are getting pregnant these days. I wonder if I could get myself pregnant without having to have sex with anyone.

~~~

Hey, does anyone know any girl drummers who don't mind listening to Tristania and Evanescence and love mashing to Cradle of Filth and Nightwish?

We suddenly lost our drummer to a call center. Traitoress.

Oh God of music, please withold our potential big breaks until our drummer has come back to us from the clutches of that call center stint?!?

Of age to do what?

I just turned 18 last April 10, 2007. Yes, it has settled in that Ive come of age... it settled in with the monstrous headache that came from wrestling with decor people; debating with my mom on the program; tears, and tears, and more tears. I breezed through the party with a smile plastered on my face and droopy eyes.

Here's a clip from the party:

Tha Making of the Reproductive Health Article

We were grouped according to topics, and from the groups, we'd have to search for our own angle for a new-feature article. It somehow fell to me to discuss government programs concerning reproductive health.

When I first sought out the DOH office, I got lost and found myself in a blood specialist hospital. I wasn't in the mood to go transylvanian and go "vlad, vlad, I vant yur vlad", so I left. I got lost two times until my mother referred me to the DOH regional director for Cebu. But the only time I was available, she wasn't.

I ended up having a willing victim collect my information for me and I wouldnt have been able to do the article without that info.

I guess this experience pretty much highlighted the importance of time and connections when it comes to articles...

Bye Bye journ121

We've been assined to write a commentary on the Journ121 experience and seeing as thaT subject was the very reason why this blog came to be,i guess I am obliged to give a commentary:

Journ 121 enriched my views of the internet and has made me more aware of it as an able tool in broadcasting and media. I have been enlightened to the fact that there may come a day when it will become the ONLY media tool, meaning, my internet habits mustn't be curbed, but on the contrary, must be encouraged. Hehehe.

I only regret that we've only discussed Blogs when we could have discussed forums and other internet outlets. But I guess this is what limited time gives you.

It was fun to discover that blogs have become more than what they were first introduced to me as - virtual diaries. But as one has said before, the best inventions are those which we find more use for than what was originally intended for them. Blogs have become more sophisticated, more organized, and a lot more public T_T. What saves my private blog from being too mainstream is the fact that its template is not very pleasing to the eye because it is dark and has almost no eye candy. Only the words are important. I wouldnt have learned how important webpage appearance is if it was not for Journ 121.

In conclusion, I think Journ 121 should be made compulsory to all Mass Comm students. The internet is a phenomena which isn't going to stop at friendster. It's become a household name and soon it's going to be hard to live without. New technologies are being developed that may make the internet a vital tool in everyday life. I believe it is imporant for everyone to have a proper education to the workings of the internet. World peace. Lol.

Counting by inch

3 inches is okay to walk on. 4 inches is murdah. 3 inches more is flattering to the height, 3 inches less means petite. Petite became petty when it crossed from France to the new world but I wont elaborate cause this blog entry is supposed to be about numbers. 3 inches less on the waistline is sweetly svelte while 3 inches more is FAT. 3 inches more and you could be the object of my fantasies while 3 inches less is flatchested. Don't worry though, most models are flatchested.

This pageant business has made me watch out for every inch. Every inch must be accounted for. When I wake up in the mornings my waist's 25. I do crunches because Kuya Jet wants the waist to become a 22 or a 23. I try to keep myself away from food the rest of the day and I get the hang of it until a friend comes along and treats me to a full dinner. I go home with a full tummy and the waist has gone back to the usual 27. I excrete and I get back to the 25. Sigh. I need to find a way to keep this waist consistent. But I think 24 should be enough.

The chest is a different story, but that's something I can do little about. Besides, I'm a growing teenager, I should be adding an inch or two to the 33 in a few years.I was fitted for a corset this morning and my chest was going to be squeezed in a 31, the waist in a 22, and the hips were going to be squeeezed at 34.

my fatness can be seen at http://miss.biliranisland.com. please vote at the internet choice polls :)

Elections...

before anything else, http://biliranisland.com/forum/showthread.php?t=793

;) pls vote for me, Maryam Fatima Chawdhury. they misspelled my family name though. :D

~~~

The elections are coming up and it is going to be my first time to participate in the national elections, but the question is, do i really want to participate?

I want to learn what the electoral candidates can do for the country but all that is available are stupid jingles that dont do much for the eardrums. I want to find out if they're any good in congress but all I'm shown is how good they look on TV. Pffft.

This nations' elections is in such bad shape that even local boxing champions think they can sit in the senate and rise our country from poverty. Paet.The voters on the other hand, know that a representative in the government is vital if they want their grievances heard over at the top. Unfortunately, they've ommitted the fact that these representatives shouldnt only be sensitive towards their issues but must also know the basics of governance. We have entertainers in the senate, who use their meetings to get extra sleepy time that they may have been deprived of because of long hours in the set(prolly making themselves more visible in time for the next elections). A senatorial or congressional position has become the best place to be if you want to get paid for sleeping in air-conditioned rooms.

And then there's the president. That position seems jinxed. Anyone who sits is offered the devil's deal: "I will give you fame and fortune, as long as you use this to make yourself happy in every possible way and preserve what i have given you."

Our society is like a dusty slab of cement. And revolution is a drop of water. With time, the slab gets dry, the dust comes back again, and it will take another revolution to clean the slab again.

DIE-yet

Yes, the word "Diet" is now in my vocab.

I ate an apple for breakfast.

A single apple, that doesn't even amount to the word. I'd call it applet but then there's already a fruit called mansanitas which is technically spanish for applet...

...For lunch I had a serving of Pinakbet and half a cup of rice.

And for dinner I had a serving of chopsuey, a cup of rice, and a banana.

My tummy's pretty much satisfied thanks to the water, but my tastebuds are crying.

The price to pay when you have to be conscious of your figure.

I declare the word "Diet" as the vilest word ever made. You can kill me but you cannot take away my food.

Why am I even letting myself go through all this?

Hentai

From Wikipedia: Hentai (変態 or へんたい, Hentai?) listen (help·info) is a Japanese word that means "abnormality" or "metamorphosis". However, in slang situations it often means "perverted" and is subsequently used in many other countries to refer to anime, manga and computer games with explicit sexual or pornographic content (see Japanese pornography). The word is never used this way in Japanese; commonly used terms include "jū hachi kin" (18禁; prohibited for sale to persons under 18), "ecchi/H anime" (sexual/pornographic anime), the prefix "ero-" (derived from "erotic"), or "seinen" (成年; adult, not to be confused with 青年 young adult).

The term "hentai" is commonly used (outside of Japan) to refer to pornographic animation in general that is not necessarily anime or manga. This is most often the case if the said animation is an imitation of a pre-existing cartoon or character (e.g. Princess Jasmine hentai).

I'm not a big fan of Pornography, I believe it helps divide man and woman even more, making man think of woman not as an equal but an object.

To the Japanese, it appears Pornography is art.

Hentai apparently existed as far back as the 19th century. Take a peek if you'd dare

The first time I encountered hentai was when I discovered Uncle Yamasan's books. Uncle Yamasan was a quiet japanese man who was around the same age of my father.

He lived in our house for a short time, while he and my father were business partners. He was either teaching us origami or reading his soft bound books quietly, one part of the book rolled up in his hand.

One day I peeked in his book, though I couldnt understand the text. I discovered his book had few pictures, so I scanned the book for all its illustrations. I found one picture of three girls (all dressed in skimpy underwear) each armed with hoses around one skinny boy (in a pair of briefs I've only seen Sumo Wrestlers wear so far). I asked what the book was about and Uncle Yamasan, trying not to spur my curiousity, told me it was about 3 girls who liked the same boy, making the boy confused on who to choose. When uncle Yamasan went back to Japan, he sent me a set of Sailormoon manga (Raushan got Turbo Rangers).

Pornography has literally "left little to the imagination", that perverts are seeking newer forms of pornography. Enter hentai, a reflection of the Japanese tendency to hold nothing sacred for the sake of their surrealism.

I've browsed through an XXXholic manga I found open in national Bookstore a couple of months back, and I found a parade of gigantic floating fishes with lanterns and a couple more obscure creatures. In the midst of it all was a pretty witch who seems to have Dominatrix tendencies.

We are in the millenium where everything is questioned, ideals are interloped and folded into each other, and nothing is sacred. Hentai is fast becoming a new art form and my only hope is that I look far too human to be mistaken for an anime fantasy by some sick male pervert.

You must take note that I used "male". I do look at hentai, therefore I am a perv myself. Hehehe.

Aftermath of the Staging

http://thesims2.ea.com/about/sims_stories/index.php

Good timing... right when I'm about to have my own laptop :D

~~~

The shows were succesful. I've begun working on the concept for the installations, but nothing's definite.

~~~

The make-up artists Kimmy brought yesterday were trying to convince me to join Ms. Mandaue. I won't because I have summer classes. The Ms. Biliranisland.com thing will have to be it for now. My manager told me my mom was worried I might find modelling fun and stop paying attention to my studies. Warning bells in my mind went off. "Modelling?" I thought. "Model na diay ko?". It turns out my manager is putting me in the modelling business too. Oh shiet. This is one thing I didn't expect. Oo diay, uso na man diay ang Goth ron.

~~~

Bringing laundry to the laundry house always seems like a great feat to me. I find this even more fulfilling than finding my name on a piece of paper, no matter how large it is. Names will be forgotten, specially mine since it's so hard to pronounce. This is the same thing with faces, specially mine since it's so generic. And this is why I'm so happy today For the first time this week, I've been able to do something truly selfish.

~~~

I woke up thinking, "I have no friends, my friends are my classmates...". Then I remembered my own words, "Equality is impossible because man will forever have the tendency to classify. Man only truly becomes equal and unified in the presence of chaos."

We become more forgiving to each other's faults because we have larger problems at hand, we become more patient, more benevolent, more sincere, more helpful..etc. "

So I may be close to my classmates today because of the chaos we just struggled and lived through, but give it a week or two and we'll be back in our old places, and I'll be back to being the loner.

So I reiterate my statement "I have no permanent friends, and everything is just a dream". This isn't one of my affectations. I don't like bothering with trifles and I'm being as honest as I can.

~~~

So in short, I'm exploring all my career options; I'm content with my homelife; I'm content with my social life; and I've accepted the fact that people just flit by. Nobody is permanent. Nothing is permanent.

Blogging about Blogging

I was featured in Sunstar's blogplug last Feb 10. Not much to garner from that, I don't care much about more blog readers unless you can become a potential story or contact. Ms Tabada asked if I wanted my older blog to be the one featured but I preferred not to give potential stalkers the link to my more private musings. But I still visit that blog more than I do this one, because #1, I've gotten used to the interface of that blogging system than this one, and #2, I think so fast that it is hard to focus on philosophies when you'retalking to yourself. I admire people who can do that.

Ironically, the other blog has become even more interactive than this one even though this is the supposed "public" blog. The only social interactions I've gotten from this is a few stalkers, one of them a supposed "photographer" who told me he has been into photography for 7 years and has all the gadgets for it, but whose artwork looks like the same thing we produced on our first days in Sir Marx's Photography class. I gave him critique and his alpha-male ape man instincts came out and dissed me by comparing me to Spongebob. Note to avid chatters: Do not chat with anyone who's poor in reading comprehension. It is also a dangerous sign if the person brags about gadgets and talks about it as if you aren't a teenager in the 21st century. It is a sign that this person assumes you are stupid and easy. I do not have to apologize to the aforementioned dick if he reads this, it is a blog after all, not TV. And I didn't mention your name,so I hope you dont get your hacker friends to spam me and destroy my precious blog. Or else I'll get my witch friends and kulam you.

Fame and a big sassy mouth come with a price.

~~~

Rereading my old blog entries reminds me of how far I've gotten and how little I still know about the world until now. It's all embarassing crap, but it was better than my written diaries. I found one, which I kept during the time I was in 3rd year high school (me thinks).

This was the time when I was the Clueless Jesus Freak who was getting over her man hating by crushing on a different boy every 2 months.

There were several interesting entries, one where a friend discovered I sounded like Amy Lee and put me on a stage, another that reflected that guys were worse gossips than girls, and one that told the story of Aster City, which was a little like Final Fantasy and the Matrix though I had seen neither during the time I wrote the story. I'm unoriginal this way. I come up with something unique, only to fnd it in bookshelves or on the TV, or on the Silverscreen years before I can be able to get to a decent producer.

~~~

The "H" of this keyboard is broken. It keeps popping out every now and then. I'm an avid blogger considering I dont have my own PC where I'm at.*ubo ma ubo lap ubo top* >,>

Thought bubble:I wonder if my mom reads my blog

Pregenesis

Pregenesis

"Everyone will have a reason"

UPVCC Conference Hall

February 24, 2:00-3:00; 5:00-6:00pm

tickets sold at 50 php each

The Chain Letter Conspiracy Theory

From Boredom came an Idea- Pregenesis

Why are chain letters spread so desperately when they are useless? I don't think it's for evangelical purposes since most of the time, the content of these letters even mock the religion that is represented.

These letters usually end in threats if the reciever doesn't forward the letter in a matter of how many days. There are even examples of the fate one could fall into when one does not comply with the sender's wishes.

I've recieved a letter or two and forgot to send them, but I didn't die. Nobody wrote down that I had choked on a piece of bubblegum 3 days after doodling on a letter and sent it around again. I have a feeling these letters are more than what they seem. What if these letters have secret codes in them?

The sender wants to spread the code as far and as wide as possible, ala Da Vinci Code ba. So that the wise would see through the deception and decode the letter for it's true message.

This theory has yet to be tested. First, I need a real chain letter. Second, I need to figure out how to decode it.

Zyra added to the drama by suggesting that the threats were real, but they'd only come true AFTER you decode the letter... dumdumdumdummmmm

To Confess or not to Confess

(Edited the Nov 22 post for publishing)
So you've decided to tell your best guy friend that your feelings for him have surpassed friendship. Have you really thought it out?

A good movie always has a certain degree of mush. Salma Hayek and Colin Farell ignored society when they fell in love in Ask the Dust. But behind the scenes, all Hayek can say about Farell is that "...We worked really well together because we are both very creative, but we really trusted each other and we were very respectful of each other." I doubt they even talk anymore. Pornography is a thriving industry despite rape and sexually-transmitted diseases. People speak of kisses and hugs with rosy undertones, forgetting that stolen kisses may also be shared by rapists and their victims.

Advertisers try making associations between love and their product. Consumers buy these products, not out of necessity for the product, but because they subconsciously think that with the imitation of the ad through the closest way possible (having the product), the love will follow.

Why is love blown up to such heights? Because it's so hard to find. And it's never absolute even when you find it.

It could just be attraction, infatuation, or even obsession. you could "love" someone because you find something in the person that represents something you want for yourself; or something that reminds you of yourself. It could be anything BUT love. The funny thing about the world is that it says people under 18 aren't capable of love. This same world set Romeo and Juliet as the standard for true love. Juliet was 13 years old. It also says that people are in love only when they are in a relationship. Other than that, you're just infatuated.

Love is a personal road. Even if the person loves you back, it's still personal. You may love the person more, or the person may love you more. It depends on the person's capability to love. There are people who can die for the people they love. And there are people who measure love's gravity by the amount of homework you do for your special someone.

There are risks to everything. You must be sure of your intentions first and foremost. If you expect to remain friends, you better think twice. Receiving love from a friend is different from receiving love from someone who means it differently. It becomes a hideous thing because you think you are obliged to reciprocate even when you really aren't.

You have two options that branch out to other possibilities: It's either you tell him or you keep it to yourself. Seemingly simple. But it's the possibilities that make the decision harder. If you tell him, you could risk his rejection or get an instant boyfriend, which leads to other possibilities or questions like; do you even want a complication in the form of a boyfriend? If either of the two doesn't happen, you could share a lukewarm friendship since the person feels pity for you or become better friends if you're both mature enough.

If you choose to keep it to yourself, you could love him in secret and be very frustrated... or/and eventually get tired of the masquerade.

The decision is up to you. I wish you success. If you aren't, I wish the experience proves to be an educational one. I do hope you're not going to do anything stupid just because I did.

The Drunk

Rose Petal Ice Cream and Boracay. Very similar to Strawberry and Mocha Ice Cream. I remember reading once that the Rose plant and Strawberry plant belong to the same family. I dunno how true this is though since my memory is very unreliable. Boracay on the other hand is a drink that has a little choco, a little gin, a little coffee, and a lot of milk. The difference between Mocha Ice Cream and Boracay is that Boracay leaves you warm and tingly.

When you're drunk (or at least half-drunk) nothing else registers in your mind except for your most current thought. Along with this thought is a list of references to past experiences and recollection/readings directly or indirectly connected to the thought. But like an Mp3 player on intro play mode, these thoughts whiz by so fast that you barely have time to finish a trail of thought to form a coherent sentence. Hence the incoherence of drunks.

Last night I drank as much as I could. My limits were the boarding house curfew and my host's budget. Last night, I learned why people resort to drinking.

People try quelling their emotions and they are so conscious of the quelling that it has become uncomfortable to release emotions. The only way to feel unguilty about such emotions is to drink on it and not think about it. This si also possible with self-hypnosis (though I think the drunk are in some ways, in a state of hypnosis) Then the emotions will flow free with the drunken singing of "My Way". It is a cult. A cult of people who have realized they do not have the right to feel. Feelings are only for the stars of the show that is Life. Unfortunately, we're all just extras. The stars of the show only drink to get drunk enough to do each other and panic about it the morning after. So I say, to all beer drinkers:

Pour this ale
Onto my thirsty heart
Let it sate
The thirst for love

Let is sate
The thirst
That can never
be quelled

let it sate
my thirst for love

For Pring

May your grace transcend your mortality
And may you dance among the stars
Though death challenged your frailty
You shall forever be in our hearts

In life you served as a reminder
That life in itself is a celebration
In death may you never waiver
May you remind us of your passion

For April Mae "Pring" Sumaylo, who died yesterday, in a car accident. She will be remembered as a graceful dancer (she inspired me to take ballroom lessons), as one who took things in stride, as one who, like her character, Dawn, made light to seemingly hopeless situations, as a cheerful classmate and helpful friend. She shall be missed.