ESTUPIDORMITORIAN - Estudyanteng Pinoy Dormitorian

Scrubs for Women

2011-05-15T18:34:00.000+08:00

I kinda wonder how our medical professionals work in their hospitals or clinics without losing their fashion sense. I mean, of course, if you go to work and you are in your typical work uniform, it’s our prerogative if we want to follow the company rules and at the same time look and feel better for ourselves. That’s when I asked my friends if they ever tried to alter their nursing scrubs whenever they go to work. And they just say, they don’t alter it. They just go to a store that offers fashionable scrubs.

At first, I was like, oh, so you can actually get nursing scrubs for women from stores? That’s when I found out about Blue Sky Scrubs where you can find lots and lots of scrubs clothing that are neat, fashionable and, unbelievably, affordable. It was like a breath of fresh air, seeing these scrub clothing in different colors and styles. It was eye opening that medical people can look professional and at the same time, trendy with these scrubs available at Blue Sky.

If you want to know where to buy cheap scrubs that are durable and equally fashionable, Blue Sky Scrubs is the perfect brand for you. For girls, check out http://www.blueskyscrubs.com/categories/Scrubs/Scrubs-for-Women/Original-Scrubs/.

Visit www.blueskyscrubs.com to know more about their latest products and where you can get their exclusive line of products to suit your needs.

A Star Channel is Born: MYX® scores big with MYX Mash

2010-05-28T11:29:00.004+08:00

REDWOOD CITY, Ca –- (May 26, 2010) – “I’m not here to throw a concert; I’m here to throw a party!”

Grammy-winning hip hop giant T-Pain summed up what thousands who trooped to Bill Graham Civic Auditorium last May 22 experienced at MYX Mash , the coming-out concert of MYX®, America’s only Asian American music entertainment fusion and lifestyle channel. Co-presented by Comcast, MYX Mash lived up to its promise of becoming the biggest concert event in the West Coast in celebration of Asian Pacific American Heritage Month.

The talent line-up was truly diverse and international: imagine African American rap artist T-Pain sharing the stage with K-Pop’s pride, The Brown-Eyed Girls from Korea, and Filipino-Puerto Rican-American producer-songwriter turned solo artist, Bruno Mars. The result was a night-long, united shout-out of cheers and support from the equally mixed audience, which turned out to be fans of all the performers.

Bruno Mars kicked off the party with a winning repertoire that showed his guitar-playing skills and outstanding musicality. Ladies swooned over the good-looking and charming Mars, but he impressed all with his great set of vocal pipes: he has one of the most listenable voices in today’s mainstream pop. His ability to swing from genre to genre also attests to his versatility. No over-the-top stage sets or dance moves for this guy, but he thrilled with beautifully constructed and performed pop: Somewhere in Brooklyn , Count On Me (on the ukulele), the number one hit, Nothin’ On You - minus the rap and with the whole audience singing the chorus with him like an anthem, and surprisingly, a showstopping cover of Michael Jackson’s Dirty Diana . Make no mistake about it: Bruno Mars is bound for greatness and the San Francisco Bay Area saw him live first on MYX Mash .

Fans got a special treat when fifth season champions of Randy Jackson’s America’s Best Dance Crew – Poreotix – showed up for a high-energy number filled with wicked dance moves, humor and personality that won the crown for them this year. The group from Westminster, California, who also performed at the MYX Mash pre-show, had the privilege of introducing the roses between two powerful thorns as repeated chants of “B-E-G” began to fill the whole auditorium.

Enter to the eardrum-shattering shrieks of fans: The Brown-Eyed Girls.

Ga-in, Narsha and Miryo (minus Jea who didn’t make it due to visa problems) started with the song that shot them to fame: L.O.V.E. The stage was on fire with hot costumes and even hotter dance moves from the sexy girl band. Then the ladies slowed it down with a surprise English cover of You Raise Me Up , which showcased their voices. This was followed by Moody Night , a slow, sexy track. But fans who expected a lot of dancing from B.E.G. didn’t end up disappointed when they heard the familiar opening strains from the group’s global dance hit: Abracadabra . A dance pandemonium took place as men and women did the famous “saucy hip” move that now ranks among the world’s top dance crazes. It was a short night for the Brown-Eyed Girls but their debut live performance in the West Coast via MYX Mash will surely linger long in the fans’ memory.

It was finally time for the night’s biggest act to take the stage. Flashy and fiery, T-Pain’s set was a full-scale production, enhanced and flavored with a cavalcade of props, lights, smoke, and dancers. The man who said he’d throw a party did exactly that, riding high on the energy of the packed floor. He ventured into a beat-heavy litany of club and radio hits: Freeze, Good Life, Kiss Kiss, Buy U A Drank, Low, Can’t Believe It, Dance Like Me, to mention a few. The song Kiss Her from his new album RevolveR also made its debut that night. It became a head-bobbing, roof-raising, crowd-jumping, fist-pumping session, with some brave souls even breakdancing on the floor. And as promised, T-Pain went beyond the Auto-Tune flavored hits and wowed the crowd with soul-tinged vocals in some slow solos. The man is a true artist who gave his all for MYX Mash .

“We promised an earthshaking day on May 22 and we delivered,” said MYX® Channel Head Miguel Santos with a smile. “We’re so enthused by the turnout, the reception, and the world-class level of performances that are now all over the internet as uploaded by the fans who watched. We thank Comcast for the partnership and the whole Bay Area community for the support they gave to MYX Mash . This is just the beginning of bigger things to come from MYX®.”

“I was thrilled with the attendance at the MYX Mash concert in San Francisco” said Natalie Rouse, Director of National Ethnic Marketing for Comcast Corporate . “MYX® brings strong programming to the Asian-American audience in the US and Comcast is proud to be a partner with ABS-CBN.” Comcast also brought Olympic speed skating medalist JR Celski who graced the VIP Reception that the company sponsored for MYX Mash community partners.

"The concert embodied what MYX® stands for: a coming together of music, fashion and pop culture for the young Asian American," said ABS-CBN North America Managing Director Olivia De Jesus . "The response was awesome and so we are committed, more than ever, to engage this market through our initiatives on the web, on cable, on ground.”

"The success of MYX Mash , our first major event to promote our MYX® music channel which targets the 2nd generation Asian American market, was a very pleasant surprise,” remarked Raffy Lopez, COO of ABS-CBN Global . “Admittedly, we had moments of anxiety leading up to the event since this is a relatively new market for ABS-CBN Global. However, the astounding turnout at the event validates our belief that this is a powerful market segment that is largely unserved by current media offerings. Serving the 2nd generation Asian Americans will be the next high growth area for ABS-CBN Global. The potential is significant and there is no media company in a better position to accomplish this."

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ABOUT MYX®

With its U.S. headquarters in Redwood City, California, MYX® was developed by ABS-CBN International, a US-based subsidiary ABS-CBN Broadcasting which is the largest media company in the Philippines and among the largest in Asia. MYX® is the only music entertainment and lifestyle channel dedicated to the Asian American community, utilizing music, culture and entertainment. MYX® can be seen on Channel 368 on Comcast’s Digital Preferred Tier in the San Francisco Bay Area, Comcast ON DEMAND, Cox Digital Basic Cable, DIRECTV 2067 and RCN. For more information, visit http://myx.tv .

Finally, Charice Pempengco Live on Ellen DeGeneres Show

2007-12-20T10:08:00.000+08:00

***** inhale ******

***** exhale ******

Omigod! Omigod! (grabs a glass of water, drinks it…)

Even Ellen’s hesitating to believe her no. 1 idol Charice was there in front of her with the crystal ball on LCD between them.

…

(Grabs another glass of water, drinks a quarter then splashes it on a person next to hi—-no, sorry mommy, I thought you weren’t slee–AWCH!)

This is IT! Ellen DeGeneres featuring Charice Pempengco! And here are her interview and performance videos and pics~!

More pics and videos at ES2PIDO.com

CLICK ME TO REDIRECT YOU TO MY NEW SITE

2007-04-30T23:40:00.000+08:00

ES2PIDO | Estudyanteng Pinoy Dormitorian.

http://es2pido.com

No, I won't leave this blogger behind. Fell in love with my Blogger blog for the past few months. I won't let go off it.

Just update your links.

A wordpress site, baby. Wohoo!

MY 10-SECOND EXPOSURE

2007-04-28T18:40:00.000+08:00

CROSS-POSTED TO MY NEW WORDPRESS BLOG
================

Sheesh. Been a long time. I don't know what to post about. I'm currently customizing my own wordpress powered site. I just love it. I made tsamba to have my name registered and then there! An uber compatible-to-everything free web hosting. Wahihihi ^_^.

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Here is our short film about... pfft. I don't wanna put her name for monkey-eating Googlers' sake.

I love this columnist. Been a regular reader of her frank yet hard hitting commentaries about politics and politicking dorks in the bangketa republique.

And don't expect that this short film would be award-winning. Had been directing haphazardly and cluelessly for our previous short films in our school that used outdated DV recorders borrowed from our friendly neighbors (because we can't afford to buy one =_=). FYI, we're not film makers. We had poor lighting and sound recording yet with the pirated film editing softwares from mininova.org, we're never been happier [evil laugh].

Might find Amélie on one of the clips. Lol. You'll find out later. That is, if you know her. ^_^

Enjoy!

TAPAT MO LINIS MO: The ^_^ Story

OPENING VID

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

PS: I'm a bad voice actor. ^_^

NOTHING WAS GAINED

2007-04-15T13:28:00.000+08:00

Oh, I win. Ok. Let's go home na.

(photo courtesy of AP and Yahoo! Sports)

A big mistake.

Since the announcement of the bout between Manny Pacquiao and Jorge Ivan Solis was announced, I never anticipated that the fight would be worth exalting that Manny
Pacquiao would eventually topple down Solis. A big mismatch. A big mistake...

Jorge Solis is a great fighter. He has never lost a fight for the past ten years or so. But Manny Pacquiao is too good for Jorge Solis. Pacquiao who, by hand, had rivaled and triumphed, also lost, against some of the world's greatest boxers. By strength, experience, discipline, among others, Pacquiao is obviously llamado.

Anyone, from the bestest sports analyst in the world to my pea-sized contact sport enthusiasm, would contend to that. But Team Pacquiao intently handpicked a non-title holder. A mile away lesser athlete. A big dreamer. But a sure loser.

Ah... err... No. I'm not thinking about something else.

Perhaps, Team Pacquiao ployed to have this bout an expected triumph for the betterment of his Congressional seat. Why can't I come up with this? Why choose an underdog for a major sponsored tourney?

To lose?

With this, can Pacquiao afford to have his loss influence his indecisive and over-the-counter electorate for the Lower House?

Of course not.

It's absolutely unfair for Jorge Solis even if Pacquiao suffer a hell lot of headbutted brow cuts, for a fight that was already foreseen to favor the obvious victor. He gained nothing but another glory for a worthless fight.

Oh, no. Jorge Solis is not worthless. He did his best. But his best is bested by Pacquiao who played him around in the first few rounds. Jorge is nonetheless a victim of a vicious whatever of Team Pacquiao.

I'm not proud of Pacquiao's victory. My sympathies to Solis and his over confidence.

Oh well. Congratulations Manny Pacquiao on your sure triumph.

SWEET NOTHINGS:

Geneva Cruz who performed the National Anthem for the Philippines before the fight, sang terribly. She is a terrible singer. Why her? It could have been Regine. Or Sarah Geronimo. Or any Pinay singer who can sing. Not Geneva Cruz. Lol.
Leonora (the one who sang for the Mexicanos) was addressed as an international singer. Umm, who is she? ^_^
I was laughing at this part. Guess why.

No wonder. That black American boxer slept on the ring floor with stars and butterflies circling above his head.

OJT HUNTING

I can't imagine how hard it is to find good slots for internship in major TV stations in Manila. Later did we know that most of these on-the-job trainees have already found their sweetest spots in ABS-CBN or GMA7, two companies where I so wanted to be employed.

To those who have the goonies with good connections with these TV stations, or any publishing or advertising companies in Metro Manila, please... I need a slot for my OJT in my internship subject. Please help me...

This is my resume.
E-mail: neil[dot]alexandro[at]gmail[dot]com.
Mobile: 0921-593-4749 or 0905-2473606
Landline: (046)539-0366

WHAT I HAVE LEARNED IN COLLEGE

2007-04-04T21:28:00.000+08:00

This is my very last entry for my feature writing subject. Pwe. I'm uber plastic here. Lol.

It took me only four hours to do this article (topic: Learning). The title suggests my lousiness to think deeper. Bleh.

This is actually our final examination--a freestyle feature writing. We only used pseudonyms with a short description at the end of our article. Yet even if I placed codenames, our prof said my article is very identifiable. I don't know how or why. Maybe because they finally knew I'm an active blogger. Whatever.

Emo mode. Plasticity mode.

(**WARNING - Uber long emo post. ^_^)

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WHAT I HAVE LEARNED IN COLLEGE
By es2pido

My BA Mass Comm blockmates, 1st yr. 1st sem. Firm at 35.
Now, a finger countable 18.

"Anong plano mo pagka-graduate mo ng college?” Mom asked while I was busy solving the missing equations of Einstein’s Theory of Everything. Then after a spare of seconds I already found myself staring at my computer screen while pondering about the question seriously inside my head.

I always wanted to be alone.

When I was still young, Mom would contend with my relatives if I can go to school already. That was 14 years ago. They were like talking in gibberish assuming that I would not understand their vernacular Aklanon inside our house in Caloocan. But no, what I heard was I was the most mentally incapacitated creature in our clan; the one whom everyone in the family should grudge about. For not being friendly and for behaving like some moronic scumbag on the bangketa republic.

While I was the most stupid way back, my Kuya was the most anticipated—the exact opposite of me. He had early experiences in Karate and Judo because he was intelligibly disciplined and smart while I was the one who wanted wearing only my sando and my undies and called them “panty” then destroy all my Dad’s sculpture prototypes inside his 4 feet high cupboard. They claimed that I got my retardation for eating cockroach eggs and safety matchstick heads. Under the kulambo, I had the hardest times in basic Mathematical operations. Mom even tried to put my hands in good use just to catch up with one-digit additions on my Kuya’s textbook. But my hands just turn red with the pain brought by the fake leather belt.

“You’re not going to school yet, A-an.” in a motherly-accented Tagalog.

That was how early I realized that discrimination is not just limited to ‘parloric’ gay grotesqueness and blonde women—but also for the least Promil-nurtured, by depriving me of the proper education and the medication--of not preparing a “baon” of Magnolia Chocolait and 2 Hapi House biscuits inside a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles lunchbox. But I least cared and only had childhood jealousies.

Simultaneously pinching the bubble wraps of my Dad’s sculpture moldings, I boasted to myself loudly out loud. “I will be the best.” A gleam of light then shone upon me. Allelujiah.

For 10 years, I tried everything to become ‘un’stupid. Reading and watching a lot of cartoons, I mean. If there’s a new book, I’d read it alone. And then play with other kids afterwards. If I glanced on the pencils inside my pen case, I’d draw and draw until the cows run out of milk. Alone. I tried to be best in art, in PE, in science and mathematics, and in music. Alone. I became the school artist. I was a regular hide-and-seeker. I was a quiz bee spammer. I was a math wizard. And I was a showmaker who loved to joined amateur singing contests. But never sought help from other people. ‘Kinareer ko ang aking kabataan,’ that’s how they put it. I managed my yester years with educational and recreational activities to prove that I am not mentally retarded and all. And yes, I proved them wrong—and did it on my own.

But I was never really happy. For years I wanted to accomplish everything without the help of others because of the fright that one day I might not be able to survive in the harshest conditions of life. So I kept on learning.

For four years in high school, I was stuck on the disillusionment that not reviewing in verbatim our textbooks in Social Studies will ruin my social life. As if I have a good one. I became active in extra-curricular activities, participated in intra and interschool competitions and leave the school with a big banner or two in front of our school entrance. I joined a lot of organizations, became active in all of them and then desert them for so much frustration. I took studies seriously and my talent fostering seriously. I keep on learning and learning and learning as if I could be oriented in a variety of sorts. And that I have kept myself with the company of the best and the brightest in our batch, so as not to disappoint my parents and my clan even if they really don’t want me to be highlighted with such prestige.

I thought I’ve become a monster who could swallow up everyone on my path.

March 23, 2004, I was speaking in front of a white dressed crowd with my 5-page long speech sliced in paragraphs. Then I heard all the parents clapping and saw my mom crying for so much happiness. I finally had redemption and gained retribution with their previous belittling. Yet, it was not noticed in my speech that my knees were severely shaking and my nerves already wracking to bits, not because of stage fright but because of the graduation aftermath.

What will I see in college?

In college, it’s a whole lot different. It’s different from our high school setup. It’ll not be the same people I’ve used to linger with, to converse with, and to debate with. It’ll be entering a new community of people from all walks, if not, the extremes of life. Since then I started having doubts if I will be able to cope with the changes of the setting and the characters involved in this short story entitled “College Life”—if ever I can be happier.

When I was in high school, everything is mandatory, especially in the creamiest sections. Everything is competition. There, you’ll see dogs bite each other’s torsos for the limelight of getting into the honor roll. There, backstabbing is rampant. One student may speak ill against the other to estrange him and become the topic of discussion—to be ridiculed and become insecure. There, you can participate and collaborate. There, you must keep yourself on the pace of the marathon. But in my experience in post high school graduation, it’s a lot better. Happiness is crabbing and retribution except for the never-care-about-my-report-card students.

But in college, it really is different.

When I entered our very first class, there were some noisy people along the corridor. Mass Comm students, I presume, so I approached the pack one meter away from them. Then there is this one spur of silence upon my arrival. After a short while, one dared to ask.

“Sir, kayo po ba prof naming sa Bio Lab?” (Are you the Bio Lab professor?)

A few hours later, I found myself laughing with them by admitting I am 2 years younger than them. And then I though, “I think I’ll enjoy this than before.”

College is a melting pot of races and personalities. In short, diversity. Here, you can decide if you will take life seriously or not. Here, you can choose your friends. You can choose if you’re going to attend classes. You are not secluded in a room where dogs bite each other’s torsos. You might, but it’ll be rare. And here, you are concentrated on one specialization—the course you wrote in on your pre-registration.

For three years, I’m with a company of different people. There are clowns who will make up for the brightest of the day. There are the easy-go-lucky’ers who are not really that annoying but they collaborate with the clowns to make the day even brighter. There are silent types who prefer to chew their nails off than talking to the clowns. There are monsters, who either excel in academics or it’s just that their faces are practically deformed. There are smart people, and there are not so smart people. There are rich, and there are some who still can eat 3 times a day without extra rice on the side. There are ‘sociables’ and socialites. I was among the ‘unsociables’.But being with them, I have learned a lot of lessons. Lessons that I never garnered from all the literary pieces in our English Communication subjects in elementary and highschool. Lessons that I will only learn from good people. From truthful people. From real people.

The previous extreme years of my childhood happened to have molded the monster in me of becoming so independent in terms of my outlook in life. That I can face challenges on my own without having to get a greater grip in the realization of ‘pain’ in life. That I can live by just learning everything only by myself, like my Dad wants me to do. Indeed, I have achieved the satisfaction of putting myself back to our family’s map that there is someone like me who can be on top of the others in terms of achievements and mental capacity whatever. But honestly, deep inside me, I was never happy.

Because of Arabelle’s punches and Jopay dance moves, because of Ichu’s Janggeum talent in impersonation, of Kuya Butterfly’s standup comedy, of Daryl’s living Chicken Soup for the Soul, of Zeus’ proactive perspective in democracy, of Kuya Emman’s simple pleasures in music and humility, of Timmy’s fashion sense and practicality, of Emrose’s Pops Fernandez attitude, of Darwin’s being who he/she really is, of Aga’s effort to make history in vocal prowess, of Ces’ Chaka Khan ear-piercing voice, of Jhonatan’s logic way of ridiculing your truly, of Ate Rochelle’s unpredictable movement of her skeletal system, of Ate Gen’s generosity in financial assistance and cellphone loads, of Ate Nancy’s thoughtfulness in organizing things and mandatory ‘volunteerism’, of Leoni’s cellphones and boyfriends and agonizing dysmenorrhea, of Krizelle’s down-to-earth monstrosity in singing, of Jayson’s laughable defamation of people around him, and of all the teachers like Ma’am Lisette, Ma’am Joyce, Ma’am Nomananap, Sir Cruzate, Sir Anciano, Ma’am Lising, and all who thought I can be good or better without exerting too much effort…

I’ve learned that I must live to love other people and myself rather than being so much egomaniacal.

We’ve been in the good times and the bad. After graduation, I don’t know what will happen to me or to anybody else…It’s my very first time that I really gained true friends. That I learned that friendship is not compensating to class cards.

Now, I still have no plans of what to do after college. All because of not wanting to be alone anymore.

I’m not alone anymore. No, I didn’t learn how to statistically analyze the relationship of mass awareness to news & public affairs. I gained friends. True friends that I would long for when I’m solitary. That's what I didn't get in high school. That’s what I’ve really learned in college.

DOING WRONG FOR THE RIGHT

2007-03-31T17:07:00.000+08:00

Kids under hostage
seemed not to worry about everything.

March 28, 2007, I had my eyes and ears stuck nearly permanently on the TV screen (I didn't know how to until lately) when a flash report came in. Thirty two preschoolers and four teachers were in a hostage of, surprisingly, the owner of their school, Mr. Jun Ducat.

At first I thought, was he mentally disturbed? Another public show of republic disgrace to the unjust abuses of the high class? And oh, another hostage after the tragic forgettable other?

Perhaps I would nod on that. It was a play production of someone who might have been desperado in providing for other people.

The hostage drama was no like other. The bus venue was ingenious. The children being held captive was superb. The no-choice-but-to-cry-a-river teachers were slightly antagonistic. But it was not the innocence of the children nor the weeping of their parents or the career moves of our dirty policemen. But the motive, the demands,

Freer education and decent shelter for their families...

A whopping standing ovation.

The hostage drama was a jawdropper for me. It broke out the culture in me that most of our hostage takings here in the Philippines would be another personal distress similar to stereotypical Filipino action movies-personal redemption of honor, vengeance for being minisculed, money of some sorts, or simply foreplaying. As far as I know, hostage taking is more of personal reception.

But this time, he demands the benefits not for Ducat himself, but for the kids he staged as threat to be demised.

Why would a person, an apparently altruistic one such as Ducat, resort to a desperate move that would endanger his students, his employed faculty, and others within the premise of the scenario for 'education and shelter'?

It's because he knows that it would take 48 years or more for Malacanang to grant their promises.

Armando "Jun" Ducat Jr., as far as I know, built a school (ie. Day Care Center) using his own money. He provided appropriate school amenities using his own money. He spends thousands of pesos for the salary of his teachers using his own money. He buys clothes, school supplies, and other facilities and equipment for such small scale academic institution using his money. Later did I know that he has just undergone angioplasty so he might have run out of funds to suffice his future personal and interpersonal expenditures.

But it is definitely wrong. I cannot tolerate his courageous act of having these innocent kids to be traumatized by such criminal act.

However, I changed my mind since Ducat does not want to kill the children, successful or not, in the first place.

Ducat in detention with his wife and... a ghost?

No one in this country would dare puts himself in critical condition. Not even Mme. President nor Lito Atienza himself would showcase bravery and justice for those who've been deprived by what they should've been provided with for the past few years. Never.

Yes, it was a wrongful act of illegally apprehending innocent civilians to be under captivity and threat of annihilation.

But for those who consider that in this country people can only achieve the impossible by doing the impossible, I would not effort to ponder and waste so much calories in thinking and clasping my fingers. Is that what Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo and Lito Atienza call as 'justice'? Or plain arrogance because some low profile Ducat blemished this blemishable country the Philippines?

Compare it to our present administration and its cohoots in the military and police, at least he did wrong for his instigation of righteousness. Not pretentiously doing right for the promotion of civil abuse and human rights violations.

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Children of Parola, Manila cheering for the freedom of
their benefactor, Jun Ducat.

Even if Ducat is in prison, he was successful.

1. AMA promised to provide scholarships for all the kids, from elementary to college.

2. Parents of the former captives would praise him for his courageous act and would never care about what he did to their children.

3. DSWD and DOLE finally paved their negligent arses to the slum areas of Tondo to check the conditions of the families--to provide health and economic assistance (in short, employment).

4. Took attention of foreign press for his deed.

5. Slapped Arroyo et al on their faces for their micro societal negligence.

Pathetic it was when I heard one of Arroyo's proctors in the field trip of the 26 captives in Malacañang saying that 'they were doing such not because of Ducat but because of their eager agencies to provide services for those who need it'.

Sinong niloko niyo?

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Politicking always finds a place to bug out of the blue, even at the harshest times.

Ramon "Bong" Revilla, Jr. was there pala in the hostage crisis, my boobtube screamed at me. I thought there would be shrills of titillation but no. I was just disgusted. I thought I would be frustrated for not seeing Bong in his red-caped yellowish polyester fitted costume with a spanking big CB print/embroidery on his chest. Seizing the day, huh?

Ducat never called his attention, nor any celebrity in the world. The police would never/should never call his attention unless it is of dire need that a handsome yet potbellied action star turned politico is summoned by the hostage taker et al. But he managed to put up a show that Captain Barbell has just saved a feverish kid which in fact has just been lifted 2 meters from the bus doorstep and carried to a 'supposedly the proper authorized personnel'.

And then Chavit entered the scene when darkness crawled the venue. I was just confused. Ducat was calling for aide to provide children and their families because of government deprivation. Government deprivation is resulted from graft corruption. Chavit Singson looks like a corrupt. So why bother?

Singson was obviously a juggling jester who pretended to possess still his police prowess and saved the day by escorting Ducat outside to detention, held the no-boomer grenade and gun, waved his hands with his ugly-looking yellow lens filtered spectacles, and made kembot that he was invincible for 5 minutes. And the policemen allowed it.

Now that's what we call 'obvious politicking'.

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In spite of my preparation to attend the formal/semi formal/pretending to be formal for good time's sake Philippine Blog Awards night, I wasn't able to collect money from ~~you blog readers and friends whom I thought would sympathize to my poverty.. shoo!~~ my mom for the transpo. Mom did have enough money, but huhuhuhu... Kuya Prince had no allowance for his hospital duty. Huhuhuhuhu..

Blatantly stolen from Jhed. Whatever. =_=;;

Huhuhuhuu.... Nah, why attend? I know I will not win. The raffle? Nah, even if I win, some blogger might block me at the exit, maul me to paralysis and then steal my little iPodee from my shack. Sourgraping.

Boo. I envy you guys.

SK - Sangguniang Kabataan o Sangkalan ng Katiwalian?

2007-03-27T18:07:00.000+08:00

Editing several hour footages of interviews and scoops and compressing it to 7 minutes are not that easy, especially when you haven't outlined how your news report should look like.

Here is our investigative/interpretative report about the Sangguniang Kabataan and its pending abolition in the Philippines.

SK - Sangguniang Kabataan o Sangkalan ng Katiwalian?
An Investigative Report about the SK and its Pending Abolition

I know it's not that good because it's my first time to use Sony Vegas in editing. It's our very first time to do an actual 7-minute (difficult) news coverage of an issue scooped for 3 months (really really difficult). Imagine--to compress everything to 7 minutes? Sheesh. I can't imagine how difficult news reporting is to neophytes like moi. hehe.

What do you think? Are you in favor of the SK abolition and its substitute or should the Congress digress more issues about the youth and tackle something else more significant for their welfare?

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BTW, I'm still uber busy. My apologies again if I can't visit your blogs. Huhuhu.

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I know I'm not gonna win.
I'm estupido. Stupid people don't win ^_^

And hey, I know I will not win but I want to attend the Philippine Blog Awards night on March 31, 2007. I don't have the money. Please donate for my pamasahe. I would really want to. Hahahaha. Lol.

neil[dot]alexandro[at]gmail[dot]com

UH HUH

2007-03-23T17:37:00.000+08:00

Busy busy busy.

Still deciding if I should be political in posting articles.

Busy busy busy.

Our investigative report about SK (rushed) is currently ongoing.

Will be back after a week.

I promise.

Sorry for keeping you waiting.

WAAH! I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANY LONGER

2007-03-10T11:57:00.000+08:00

SO-CALLED HIATUS

Geez. This was the first time I declared hiatus. Yet thinking about the blog hibernation bugs me everytime I open my PC here in Dasma.

You know, when I double click the Start Button, instead of looking directly at the "All Programs", I gaze my vision rightward and then read "Connect To" with the puny little arrow on the right. Then temptation comes in. While my mouse tries to resist, my stupidity acts otherwise. Them after a few seconds, I see myself clicking the "Connect" button on the Connect to Speedtouch Connection dialog box. Then boom, the first page is my stupid blog.

I usually do that. I announce something publicly, whether I'm on the fatty flesh in front of an ugly audience or not, I am always perturbed by such announcement, feeling guilty that I have announced something that I might not actually fulfill it. And then I posted something just 2 days after the so-called "3-week hibernation".

Which means I cannot pose as a politician on the next 10 years. Get it? Haha.

-------------

SO-CALLED 'GREAT OPPORTUNITY' *UPDATED*

I'm not sure if posting about this would endanger my life. But I don't care. Better if more people would be informed about it.

February 29, Thursday, some Eric Legazpi from the military, whom we and the residents of our subdivision rarely see, went to visit our house and asked my mom if there is some "Neil Brian" who lived here (insert complete address here, I know where or from whom he got it).

Mom got worried. This Eric Legazpi appeared to have been contacted by some bosses in Malacañang, provided my complete address and my slumbook details from my Multiply public profile. And GUESS WHAT? He claims that I did an application to enter the military school, and that I have a very lovely wife. Musta naman yun? (How's that?)

Mom hastily denied such claim. Like, a big WHAT? Never would a kid like Neil attempt to join the army, now that he's well informed about the military and its cohoots, Mom retorted. And a big HELLO? Si Neil? [Lampang batang iyon, Mom thought] Magmi-military?

My mom was crying when I called her on the phone about this.

This was simultaneous with the text messages I receive from a guy named Arman Garcia who so-called was a former PUP student who texted me that my 'good writing' will offer 'great opportunities'.

I thought his makabayan language (makabayan, nationalistic in purely persuasive Tagalog tone) in his text messages points towards these people who've been so patient in insisting me to be 'active' again (as if I was active). So for days, I tried to make myself stupid. I just jerked around as if I have some textmate who would want to meet me in a 'secret place away from everybody'.

When this Eric Legazpi haphazardly interrogated my mom about my existence in the address, I texted this Arman. What a great coincidence, I told him. He called me and then told me his real motive--to enter the party cell of the CPP-NPA.

WHAT?! ME, A MEMBER OF THE CPP-NPA? HELLO?

I think he lost his sense of hearing when I shouted a big 'what' on my phone. Why the hell a sluggish looking army personnel approach my mom and ask if I live here in Dasma and that he confirms I have applied for the military? And what a good timing that he is super insistent to meet me in Manila.

My mom confronted this Eric Legazpi. To make her statements short, she just said this. "Hindi ako bobo." (I'm not stupid) Later I knew that this Eric Legazpi was squeezing his convincing powers by telling my mom that the survey he was conducting was for me who will have an "on-the-job training" in AFP, because I am a 3rd year Mass Comm student.

Hahaha. SO much for reading my blogs, scumbags.

WHY I WAS GIVEN 'GREAT OPPORTUNITIES?

1. I had good connections with Maria Teresa Pangilinan. She's my friend. A former co-staffer in our school publication. Our former CSG President. Now, I have no news about her, but some say she's working in GMA7 already.

2. I was active in The Gazette. They thought The Gazette is radical. No, they're not. They were. Now, I don't know what The Gazette really is since I self proclaimed to have left the pub for good.

3. I was an activist. Now, I'm a no-do-gooder student journalist.

In short, I am not insurgent.

I am not a communist.

I am not seditious.

I am not a rebel.

It's just that I am not stupid. Student journalists are not stupid.

I OFFICIALLY ANNOUNCE

2007-03-07T21:59:00.000+08:00

That I'm on a self-declared 3-week hibernation in the blogosphere. As if people would care.

Sheesh. I'm so busy. And I don't yet have my own PC. Sissy. Cheesy. Zzzz.

As of now, I'm looking forward to have these abominably inexplicable requirements accomplished at the end of the semester. And yes, I don't care about the Philippine Blog Awards because I'm pretty sure I'll be running out of wealth at the end of March and forget about traveling to Manila and pretend that I'm some no-care-no-do-gooder punk who loves wearing plastic eyeglasses and more ands. Talk about calling the attention of my dad for some wage increase ^_^.

1. Super duper long multi-paged cover-to-cover exam of Atty. Meñez who, apparently, are not in good terms with our colloquial mentality due to his absurd pride. So ordered.

2. Function Hierarchy Diagram and Data Flow System of De La Salle University - Dasmariñas. Unfortunately, DLSU doesn't want to be disturbed. Sheesh.

3. Research about the behavioral, physical, and academic effects of free tv animated programs on children. How many times have we done this research, huh?

4. Research about the... well, I dunno. I didn't attend our class for two days straight because of Atty. Meñez' film about a journalist (and we've had Ellen Tordesillas. whopee!). Yet, I end up finishing the editing half-baked because some scum told me that I have to come to school as early as 9 am. Screw him.

5. And many more. There's too many, I don't know how to translate it to Filipino.

Kthnxbai. See you soon.

PLEASE COME HOME

2007-02-28T06:46:00.000+08:00

This is one of my feature article entries which got a perfect score. And it's my centenary blog post. Hope you'll like it. ^_^

And I apologize if I can't visit your blogs that often... I'm just so busy dealing with Nicolas Copernicus and Doraemon in Kingdom Come.

---------------

Entry #10 - Personality Sketch

PLEASE COME HOME
by Neil Brian Bernardo

Discipline and self-reliance. That's what my Dad always reminds to us whenever we stumble on the "ginisang kalabasa with talong and other poisonous condiments" he served on the table--when we still have that "table", I mean. I was still a kid back then, a kid whose brain worked like a cretin and never cared about the wonders of escayola and water mixed together. Which means I didn't listen to the morning sermons of my Dad and focused only on the orange juice beside me. Later I knew, when my Dad was still of the same age as mine, he didn't formally go to schooling and sold pan de sal on the streets. Then I stared at the poisonous vegetables on my plate again and wondered endlessly until the day this article came to be.

My dad is a sculptor--an occupation where none of the residents in Paete, Laguna would question. He sketches, he paints, he carves, and he furnishes. he had been earning a lot since he started laboring in his uncle's firm in Laguna. But he was never contented. He wanted to go to school and be educated by the wonders of science and linguistics. So he worked out for it. For years, he had been selling bread on his bicycle like a newspaper boy to suffice his school expenses until he reached highschool. He worked all for himself, by himself.

He never had a perfect family. He never had perfect parents.

His father was a drunkard. His mother never took education as a priority. Neither his brothers nor sisters as well. But my Dad tried to become one and helped himself and his family in their everyday expenditures--whether important or superficially 'recreational'. And he finished college with the help of his aunt in Las Piñas.

And now, I am seated uncomfortable against the table with the poisonous vegetables on my pink plate. I never experienced being scolded by my Dad with his hands or his Salvadore belt. But his intimidating authority speaks by itself. How would I be disciplined and become self-reliant with a squash and an eggplant even in at that time I already knew that squash has high vitamin A while the eggplant had no other nutritive values except fiber and carbohydrates?

Before, I never eat vegetables unless a belt or a broomstick is seated right next to me. But Dad insists. We should learn to live life on our own with the squash and the eggplant.

He learned the fundamentals of sculpting by just watching his co workers doing their giant sculptures in their warehouse. Whenever he is alone, he would experiment on anything. He secretly used his grandfather's tools whenever he practices sculpting. And he would never stop until he gets it correctly even if he is working already in Guangdong, China.

Whenever he is at home, he would sing and sing even if all our glasswares have cracked up. Then I would get another microphone and devastate our whole community just for the sake of thinking what he should design and carve. And then if he's done, he would not want anyone to get past through the lines in the house which he called "Area of Responsibility: Do Not Disturb. Point of No Return."

Whenever he is back at home, he would always want to heighten the volumes of our audio system and watch movies he bought in Hongkong. Not because he wanted to show-off to our neighbors that he finally arrived from the greenest pastures, but just to do what he always did when he is alone or with other people in his apartment in China.

Whenever he is back at home, he would talk to us about the cruelties of working outside the Philippine Archipelago, like there are so many burglars and snatchers in China and how all my Dad's most expensive perks had been stolen by the Chinese. He would talk about himself, about pornography, about mommy in their first years in life, everything. Everything that would scope all the 13 years he missed without us his family beside him. he would just talk like any father would talk about.

Whenever he is back at home, he would teach us what he learned in his work--digital imaging, 3D modeling and animation, designing, among others just for a couple of minutes and then leaves us to study it only by ourselves.

Whenever he is back at home, he would always make everything seemed perfect. The looks of the house, our talent, our speaking, our attitude towards others, and the like. He is not that strictly a perfectionist, but he preferred to have us give our best on everything so as not to disappoint other people.

Whenever he is back at home, the house is of his full authority. He is the head of the family, the husband of my mother, and the father of my kuya, my brother Henry and Teri, and me.

He would tie our shoes before we go to school. He would clean our appliances and windows and reorder our upholstery a whole lot differently. He would give us his things and call it "our own". He would ask questions and answer it himself. He would laugh at all the cheesiest shows on television and yawn at all we though the funniest. He would design a floor plan of our small bungalow house and then keep it to himself. He would play Chinese songs, sing along with it, and then I would always end up memorizing the song earlier than he. Yet for retribution, he would cook his all-time favorite 'ginisang kalabasa with talong and other poisonous condiments' and commands us to fill our stomachs with this special treat of his with the broomstick and belt on our side. He would spend a lot and care less on the following days.

He would always do that whenever he is back at home. As of now, I'm contented and satisfied with the online chat and emails.

I rarely see him in his bad cold weather outfit everytime he comes home. Because he rarely does come home. His Giordano polo shirt bought in some luxurious department store in Hongkong complements well with blue, sometimes brown, jacket filled with nonempty pockets of varying sizes. Unlike those OFWs from the Middle East who come out of the wide open with gold jewelry horrendously contrasting with their obvious monstrosity, he never wore any except his replaceable wristwatch.

But will all the luggage and the unlabeled Balikbayan boxes next to him, we who anticipate his arrival on the NAIA or stunned for his surprise return of the comeback, think of only one thing:

No, not the "pasalubong".

Dad is finally back.

---------------

Happy 20th Church anniversary to you, Mom and Dad! Love ya and all!

INTEREST

2007-02-18T19:41:00.000+08:00

My, uhm, new header image(?). What do you think?

If your heart speaks louder than what you think, you would need no extra effort to bring out the best in you... whenever and wherever you need it.

-Neil Bernardo,
La Viscaya: Resum Postiva Vregulavya.

Haha. Pretending to have finally published my comic book with the original concept of "universal orbital microcosmic existence." Explanation? Wait until I find interestin publishing such. ^_^

-------

When I find something not really interesting, no matter how important it is, I don't bother. Unless there's a Lucky Me! Pancit Canton or two to be offered as just compensation.

Keeping the day intact and focused is no big deal for me. I need a reason to everything. Reason to continue what I have started. Reason to interest me to continue what I have started, that is.

I don't know why I came up to take journalism as a career in the future. For someone who have been submerged to visual arts for my entire life, writing and speaking is a mile more estranging.

My former classmates would always be surprised everytime they ask me about the course I am taking in college. They know me as an uber classroom boy who didn't bother socializing with the outside world (that is, batchmates of other sections). They know me as the art class professor who does all the room decorating, drawing, painting, and props making in play productions and major school events. They know me as someone who didn't extrovertly showcase himself in front of many people like some celebrity wannabe in Starstruck. They know me as someone who doesn't want to be known to many people, but the congratulatory banners in our school screaming my whole name would oppose my solitary prerogative.

They know me as an artist who writes incoherently and grammatically incorrect. So I preferred drawing than essay writing.

"Tapos Mass Comm ka?", they asked. Then I remember they were claiming for flash nose bleeds. They found me a bit different when they heard me answering their subsequent questions in an unusual diction and language.

Now, major subjects suddenly pop out of our curriculum. Subjects like I am required to create a short interpretative/investigative news report vid about the Sangguniang Kabataan abolishment in the Philippines. Or the present state of mass media influence to society phenomena. Or the application of Law of Mass Media in the short documented life and profession of Ellen Tordesillas. All which requires proper time management and money and, of course, interest. Then the reason to continue will be the last on the checklist.

Our school can't gratify my expectations, and it greatly affected me. I lost my interest to exert extra effort in our class.

But after the interviews with some media practitioners, I think I have to change my mind.

---------

We've interviewed Cong. Gilbert Remulla last Friday. And I was starstruck. He's Gilbert, and he's a Remulla. I finally had my hands on him for the first time.

Sorry. No pics. Wish Cong. Remulla would read this and send us our pic ^_^. Earth calling Cong. Gilbert Remulla... yohoo!!

Then Ellen Tordesillas on the next. God, I thought we would spend a lot for her interview. But we're so surprised. We've munched on free supreme cheezy crust pizzas she ordered, and for merienda a plate of seafood fettucini and ravioli courtesy of her friend Sol Vanzi, a former journalist. We've learned so much from her, you might be interested in what we have talked about.

Say "Mouse"! I thought that was serious.
I really said mouse.

I really looked tired. Yet in fact, my stomach is full
of 8 pounds of Italian recipes. Haha. I need a workout

"HALF"PY

2007-02-16T01:19:00.000+08:00

Got some text messages while I was playing with myself.

"Happy Valentines Day sa inyong lahat! Wala na akong load bukas kaya ngayon ko kayo babatiin. Happy valentines Day!"
(Happy Hearts day to all! I'm running out of text credits so I'm greeting you this early. Happy Valentines Day!"

Then another

"Happy Valentines! Yihee! Mwuah!"

So I grouptexted them with this.

"Happy Hearts Day!"

After 5 seconds, one sms received.

"Happy Hearts Day rin!" (Happy Hearts Day too!)

Then I responded in an instant.

"Happy Healthy Hearts Day! No worries! No pains! No risk of cardiac arrest for singles like me! happy Healthy Hearts Day!"

What a good evening to start the sleeping without worrying to spend on a date or another for tomorrow.
---------------

I never mentioned about my housemate, Mac, who always cracked the Hulk out of me when I realize he's cooking my canned goods in my cabinet without asking permission. Now I'm mentioning him (for art's sake). Apart from that, he always use some of my thingies and claims it as his own because of his ignorance not to ask anyone if someone owns it or not.

Another apart from that, he asked me to burn CDs for him and do a personalized cover using his (insert grotesque overly catastrophic looking parloric gaypose here) photo and then after a whole month, he didn't pay for it. And he intentionally fools us that he always runs out of money albeit we are aware that he notoriously lies to us to divert the fact that he used his money to buy but nonsensical, absurd items for his perverted vanity.

Then yesterday, one of my housemates rushed to the canteen where my classmates and I salivate their expensive but not good tasting meals. She was hysterical.

"Winakwak ng aso yung hita ni Mac kanina... hindi ko alam gagawin..."
(A dog devoured Mac's leg just now. I dunno what to do)

I feel sorry. But my brothers and my classmates think (while smirking and laughing silently) otherwise.

PILED

2007-02-11T20:12:00.000+08:00

This is how my cellphone (showing off successfully inserted)
looks like. I created a template for Smartphone
inspired by the Jumong series.

I thought Mass Comm is easy.

The term was weird, I told to myself when I heard the world Mass Comm from one of my Grade 3 classmates. We were telling stories about what we will do if we finally finish our schooling. I said to her, oh, I guess I'll be following my father's footsteps in China. I will draw, design, and craft for his company if in case he falls ill in his job. Or, I'll be more ambitious and get richer than JAZA and build a company where I can create my own animé series and be proud to project it all over the world as the very first all Filipino animated series...

Diane just said this blankly. "Ako? Maskom," (Me? Mass Comm) with that strong Filipino twang.

Anong Maskom?, I asked her.

"Maskom. Maskomportable." (Mass Comm. More comfortable)

For so many years, idea never came into being that I would be taking this course upon entering college. No one did. All my classmates would say that I might be some architect that would design the most intricate house in the Philippines and would cost a hundred million pesos. Some insist that I would be entering UP to take Fine Arts and produce the very first commercially successful animated series made by a Filipino. Others would rant that I will be following my dad's footsteps and set my ugly feet permanently in China or Japan.

Yet I took BA Mass Communication, without knowing that I will be majoring Journalism.

There's this stereotype about students with their reason that Mass Communication will not involve math ever. No. Your first semesters will be bombarded with lots of math than any other non-math-related course in your university. Then you would kill yourself for disbelief.

Second, Mass Communication is easy. Yes, it's very easy to write and speak. No, because you need your brain to work efficiently and simultaneously while you speak and write. It's no joke. Math is easy because you just have to compute and compute. And there's always an exact answer. I find engineering courses easier since I bested Math in my highschool. Squee.

I halfheartedly admit the fact that during the times when I was clueless to think of what degree I will pursue in college, I took consideration that the course will be easy for me, and highly related to my interest directly proportional to its costs.

Then, I realized I was fooling myself.

I am so piled with lots of projects.

Filming is never easy for us. Most of us here in CvSU are members of the Philippine povertsia, where we would nearly beg for alms just to be provided with our school expenses.

My projects are the following:

1. Short feature/documentary/whatever film about a media practitioner, preferably a journalist, and his life according to the laws of mass media. Courtesy of our terror but friendly but still terror professor Atty. Adonis Meñez.

2. Short investigative/interpretative report about the present condition of the Sangguniang Kabataan in Cavite

3. Case analysis about the "Mass Media to Society" influence. That means, we can go to places we never imagine.

4. Communication research mini thesis. We haven't discussed what we should study about.
And

5. Another case analysis slash feasibility study of another function hierarchy diagram about the Personal Identification System in De La Salle University-Dasmariñas.

Sheesh. And it's tentative. God save us all.

---------

BTW, I forgot to mention about the gift I received from Chas. Golly. A cute reindeer stuff toy souvenir from Norway. Hihi. It's so cute, all my schoolmates wanted to steal it. Because they rarely find one similar to mine. They're so envious, they nearly had stolen my bag and slashed my throat. All because of my cute, cuddly, internationally-signed-sealed-and-delivered, reindeer stuff toy. Hahaha.

Thanks Chas!

PREDICTIONS

2007-02-03T22:40:00.000+08:00

Mimay Benueza, a highschool classmate of mine, made a fad about love foresights inside our classroom. But one procedure we really took the greatest notice is her fortune-telling of the age where we would be ringing the bells, and a bonus guessing of the gender of our first born-to-be in case we would not meddle on same sex relationships...

The materials for this weird fortune telling are very simple: a ring owned by some single individual and a strand of hair thick enough to carry the ring. You just tie the ring with the hair near at its end. Ask your victim, I mean your client about his or her desired marriage age. Then, without letting the ring getting anywhere, you slide the strand up and down between the index finger and the thumb of the right hand of the person according to the figure given by your victim, I mean client. Be careful not to let the ring touch the skin of the victim, I mean client when you do the up-down motion.

Upon reaching the final count, you lift the strand along with its ring above the center of the palm of your victim, I mean client, and keep steady for about five to ten seconds. If it moves round and round for 7 to 15 seconds, the predicted age is right.

Now, for the gender of your first born, you simply put the ring above the wrist of your victim, I mean client. Notice if it changes movement. If it moves in linear direction, it’s a boy. If it remains circular, it’s a girl. But, if it suddenly stops moving, your victim, I mean your client or your client’s spouse’s sperm/egg cell might want to stay squiggling inside their genitalia in perpetuity.

With this method, we have accumulated unusual results. One of which was my classmate who appears occasionally on Unang Hirit tackling about clothing designs will be married at her 17th birthday. The other extreme was 35 years from an Applied Math classmate who is currently enrolled in UPLB.

We also tested this to our adviser. Our guess was right. She was married at her 25th and never had children.

I also tried this to my mom. The result was stupendous. It guessed my mom’s age where she first married my dad in a church. And of course, my Kuya’s gender is unquestionably male.

Thinking about the perception of marriage and the gender of the baby, sometimes I thought that the verdicts are not for the date of the church marriage, but the day you said hello in a dark, cozy room and served milk in a clear glass pitcher. Then the milk curdled after a few hours of cell division.

I almost forgot. My classmate tested the fortune-telling to me.

Fate said 20 years old. A baby girl.

Geez, the oriental winds give me the chills.

COMMENT ALLEZ-VOUS?

2007-01-28T19:09:00.000+08:00

OMG. What happened to me?

Honestly, for keeping this blog dormant for the past three weeks, I feel like, after finally downloading the dashboard page of my Blogger account, I just came out from a labyrinth of hullabaloo. And I wanna make my sincerest apologies to every Protists in my microscopic blogosphere for not attending your friendliest clicks on my links. I don't know exactly why or how or what the hell I've been doing to preclude busying in blogging. Bleh.

I dunno how to start...

- I'm currently renting a PC in an internet center somewhere here in our subdivision. Name's tickling my senses to have some joy with the non-alignment of my keyboard and the monitor. "Sense of Joy" computer center. Get it?

Why rent? Darn, we can't pay the thousanding pesoses in our bill. And we have no plans of complying. Our connection has been intermitting like hell. Screw them to their intestines. Life is so unfair. Don't care if Globe is owned by JAZA or his brother is way too handsome to have a monstrous wife whatever. Bleh. We're switching to Smart Bro. In our dreams.

-------
- I Talk Too Much has reviewed my site. Dang, I love them. It just so happened that my being some Firefox sleazy asshole pissed the hell out of their genitalia. I'm gonna remove that Firefox thingy and tweak some graphics in my blog. Just wait. I still have to deal with JAZA about our internet connection. Grr.

-------
- I'm through with my Super Califragilisticexpialidociously Rantagonizing Assnotes, joke, Supreme Court Reports Annotated case digests for Atty. Meñez who, realizing the world is indeed round even some claims that it's elliptical thankyouverymuch, happens to be my mom's close friend in Banga, Aklan. My mom laughed when she heard my mouth saying "He's Adonis" because as what my mom could recall, she used to call Atty. Meñez "Ontoy". Both their families are bigtime farmers and landowners in Aklan.

Can't imagine... Aklan to Cavite...

-------
- It's about Mr. Meñez again. The submission day was... let me guess... hellish. It was like we were 40 at 9:00. Then at 10 am...

...folders were flying. Spirits were deliriously crying. Cerberus is growling. Thunderstorms. Mouthbubbles. Tidal waves. Madam Auring. Hmm, more Madam Auring. And Diego. And Mariah Carey singing "My Saving Grace" and "Emotions" consecutively and simultaneously (??).

There were only 10 left.

-------
- We had our midterms week last week. And I didn't feel anything.
Oh, perhaps I do had some cramps and minor dislocations within my fingers and wrist in my right hand.

The subject is "Mass Media and the Society". Our professor warned us that there were 4 questions. We were relieved.

Then a few minutes later, he asked us to pull out 5 pieces of bond paper for the answering. Repetition of the previous calamities. We started around 1 pm. I, being the last to finish, ended at 5:30 pm.

When my classmates peeked at my bond papers, they were like, uh, shouting of sorts. (evil laugh)

-------
- This really sounds corny, but I am really an avid fan of an "If Only" movie rip-off TV series casting a poor Tagalog diction blabbing Gerald Santos and a chinita Cebuana Kim Chiu who looks exactly like my crush (*wink wink... Don't ask me.)

I'm turning highschoolish these days. Nah, who cares? I don't have problems in paying my tuition and being rabid to "Sana Maulit Muli" (in English, "Hope the CD Jams inside the Player". Joke.) doesn't affect my grades. Well, it has kept my eyes drooling in front of the television and refrain reading. Whatever.

-------
- I have colds. Last week, I suffered influenza, with severe coughs, sneezes, fevers, chills, headaches, and more headaches. The next day, mom woke me up due to asthma. Now, I still have colds. Squee.

-------
- I was invited by some member of Pintalahi (a visual arts-oriented organization in Cavite State University) to attend their meeting. Inasmuch as I wanted to attend the meeting, I had a sched to finish a project in our freakinly non-major-subject-but-wasting-our-precious-money-and-time Data Info Systems, so I declined their accommodation to my presence.

Later that day, I realized that my classmates are not into good academic performance and preferred going back home... Damn, I too am lazied and forgot about the meet...

I'm kinda holding my grudges that I might have problems in my leadership performances... huhuhu.

--------
- I was cleaning my bookshelf in our apartment in Indang, and bounced something... nostalgia. Tears. Regrets. Delusions. Decisions...

... Palimbagang Pulang Silangan...

... I... never mind.

That's it for now.

DA ESTUPIDINCI CODE

2007-01-05T05:28:00.000+08:00

(I was typing a very long post yesterday, a yearend article actually. But my internet connection didn’t seem to be friendly to my browser each time I publish it. Oh well, I suppose He didn’t want me to praise YOU, guys. Awe. Happy New Year na lang.)

Writing a diary has never been this progressive… and interactive.

I once had a diary for the year 2000. Not sure if the book that I purchased was really a diary because of its odd per hora text lines. But I was sure I bought an expensive book because each time I turned the pages, I felt the factory air-conditioning sensation with some tangy twists of tree blossoms and dried lemon grass leaves. Plus the gold leaf lining on the page edges.

The diary was hardbound, with this weird shining, shimmering, splendid ribbon marker that was slid permanently on the contacts pages, and lots of sections which, at first, I didn’t understand.

I opted to write short one-liner summaries per hour, usually done during recess or lunch breaks in school. Soon, I got tired with the detailing and went on living with the diary kept inside my cabinet as a luxury.

I tried listing every single detail that happened in my high school life. Everything that happened inside our school was noted because almost a fraction of our teenage lives are spent inside the campus (which I tried to enjoy). Luckily, no one, not even those who meddled inside my closet reading it secretly, understood what I was writing on it.

I once had this enthusiasm to create code alphabets. Codes which are essentially useless for the development of our society and the education sector. I just devised special codes to, of course, make everything in my life as cryptic as possible.

I have created 5 alphabets--the last one (based on Korean and Chinese) happens to be my personal favorite since it is very pictographic and can be properly implemented in almost every language in the world. There's this one code that I forgot already because of not regularly using it during my elementary and highschool years. Some of them, mostly my creations when I was 10 years old, are so complex, I can’t imagine where in the world I got the nerve to build such codes for the benefit of myself.

Would you believe that this scribble means 'magic'?
It's 'salamangka' in transliteration.

With rules such as syllabic markings, same-letter policies, noun-verb varieties of initial letters, right-to-left reading, accentuations… each alphabet has its own identity, looks, and proper usage.

For example, my box-type tailed no-space alphabet is only used for events inside the school. Stresses are marked with slashes and dots, and initial letters of sentences had varieties. And if I refer to names of my childhood enemies, letters would be written squiggly and had jagged flourishes.

Ako (Me) - Formal

Ako - Enemy edition

When my dad bought us that damned bulky Webster’s Unabridged Dictionary, I started reading it and became familiar with the foreign alphabet formations and evolution. It later influenced one of my codes which I derived from the Cyrillic alphabet of the Russians. I even created a code based from the Arabic series, but made them very very complicated to understand. Not even my Science teacher understood my writings in my notebook when she required us to submit it as final requirement for the subject.

Neil Brian - in print and cursive forms

My crave for manufacturing codes probably profused because of my childhood interest in learning many languages. I have studied so many languages, I sometimes forgot most of my Tagalog vocabulary and relied on the lexicon for years. Seeing me making friends with my foreign classmates, parasitize them, and squeeze their intelligent juices to teach me about their alphabet and vocabulary could be a routine if I’m your seatmate. Just kidding. I just ask them a few questions then I do the rest.

My diary writing just died out. Unlike someone I know who fancied her journals neatly and hippy, I go with the formal, business-like editions. Yet for 6 years, I've only done 2 diaries and consumed only 20 pages each.

And with the codes I use, I just demonstrate to people how secretive I am when it comes to personal life. I occasionally tell stories to my close friends, but my love life? No. No one knows except my nose.

I am no extroverted guy who simply discloses lots of details to anybody personally. I’m one odd creature hard to dig in. So hard to interpret, when everybody in the classroom shouts truth or consequence, I always run for my life. If caught, I’ll make sure I cast a show that will convince them to slice my stomach first before getting my precious golden eggs. Or speak Latin, Mandarin Chinese, or Canadian French rapidly and wait them nosebleed.

I admit. I am weird sometimes.

And perhaps, you guys are lucky that you can read me because of this blog. And even taunt me. Oh well.

Asne mushti ivi dini luna pashnea.

THANK YOU FOR CALLING GLOBELINES

2006-12-31T02:08:00.000+08:00

Five days ago since I last browsed the internet with flawlessly fast speed and unlimited access to almost every type of website. Now, five days in a row, myglobe.com.ph, plus the forever living Yahoo!, is the only website that I could visit in my danged multi-operating system computer that runs 800 mHz with a broadband speed of 4 kilobytes per second. I wanna faint.

*UPDATE* - Oh great... thanks to Juice and Rob, I am finally informed about that hemorrhagic, abominable inanakanangpakingshyet earthquake in Southern Taiwan that caused haywire in our internet connection. And fiascoed IDD? GAWD! THAT WAS F*CKING TERRIBLE! HOW CAN WE RECEIVE OUR REMITTANCE TODAY? GRAARGH!

(My regular visitors might be aware that) I am fond of intimidating people, though at times I'd rather refrain looking like one because of my continuous attempt to have some fashion overhaul. Of course, I intimidate people for a purpose... for a cause... occasionally, to speed things up.

The very last time I waited long enough was 18 hours--and it's for a swimming spree. I don't know how blind I was when I braced my batchmate's house in Silang, Cavite to have waited in such a splendid amount of time. Now I'm done with it.

I was uber punctual years before I joined the student publication, though sometimes I reach our rendezvous 5 minutes later. The only thing that kept me waiting is someone that would accompany me waiting. If I'm alone, I always think about the kamote (sweet potato) sprouts to plant in my backyard. Kamote sprouts... holy cow.

I know the feeling of someone who have prepared so much for an appointment, especially in early meetings, compromising other priorities such as late-night TV viewing (no. 1 priority other than doing assignments) and other recreations just to sleep early for the rooster wake-up. Only to discover that on your next precious day you find yourself savoring free facial makeup from the particulates suspended in the air. Filipino time.

Filipinos don’t want to wait for others, so they rather see others wait for them by intentionally slowing their pace of movement in taking a shower, dressing up, wearing the stupid pink blush-on powders and all--the main rationale of this internationally-acclaimed Pinoy tardiness. They intentionally keep others waiting, to the point that these people would look like instant celebrities even if their faces don’t qualify to be one. And then they will apologize, in a tone like you’ve only waited for about 5 minutes simultaneously with the cake you’ve dropped on the floor (which, they claim, is still safe to eat).

So I started patronizing the custom to be more Filipino. I’ve suffered enough. I’ve longed enough to bear with all their excuses. If we agree to meet at 7:00, expect them to come at 8:30. Which, in fact, always happens. I envy Lea Salonga. When they are expected to come at 9 am, everyone comes thirty minutes earlier, then they start their production at exactly 9. The Japanese run on their satellite-subscribed clocks. If it’s rush hour, it really is rush hour. Here in the Philippines, rush hour is when you forgot to bring your attaché case at home in the middle of a rowdy traffic.

But for a mandatory and obligatory paid service like my internet connection? No c’est la vie’s for me.

Whenever we have connection problems, I always call our service provider’s customer service hotline 171-2310. 2310, note that. Then you’ll hear Christian Bautista or Josh Groban singing their all time hits, which is kinda nice, but will pull your ears off when listening for a long time. Then it’ll take you forever waiting for the customer service representative to accommodate you.

And finally...

(December 24, 2006)

Globe: Welcome to Globelines Technical Support Service, may I help you?
Neil: I didn’t listen to your recorded advisory to ask you about this. What the hell is happening to our broadband connection?
Globe: (swallows, getting a grip for some English twang). Well sir, can I ask your name first?
Neil: (hysterically provocative) I’ll give you my mom’s name instead since she owns this account. (insert mommy here)
Globe: (cleans throat). Uhmm, ah eh… can I get your internet phone number?
Neil: I gave you my mother’s name already. Ok, fine, wait just a minute.
(hangs phone to get our monthly bill)
Neil: (insert number here).
Globe: (typing, and typing, just to prolong and divert the conversation). Okay sir, can I confirm that you live in Cavite area.
Neil: Obviously, yes.
Globe: Well, for now, your account is subjected to network restoration that’s why you are having difficulties in connecting to your broadband connection.
Neil: I think the recorder said that already.
Globe: (silence, pondering about my previous statement.)
Neil: Approximately how long is this so-called ‘network restoration’?
Globe: As soon as possible, sir…
Neil: How long is this soon as possible?
Globe: Sir, you just wait for the connection to resume, sir.
Neil: (mild angry tone, without breathing) For 5 days straight?! I think that’s unfair for us your customers to pay 15 hundred bucks for an internet connection that stops once in a while—you know, we are doing all our documents for the following year, and then you give us this network restoration that’s taking 48 years to finish? How long should we wait? And we still have to pay 1500 for the bill on the 29th? That’s totally unfair, ma’am.
Globe: Sir, we cannot do anything about your problem for now (with a placating tone). But I promise you that your account will be on the priority list to regain internet access (with typing sounds) as soon as our network restoration is completed.
Neil: (silence)
Globe: Umm, sir, can I ask your name first?
Neil: Neil. Neil Bernardo.
Globe: Okay sir neil, you’ll be connected in the next few hours after this phone call.
Neil: Okay. Thanks.
Globe: (with a somewhat mild breath) Thank you for calling Globelines.

(Call dropped.)

My point? If you pay a thousand bucks for a broadband connection that stops once every five minutes, dial the Tagalog customer service hotline and speak with all your greatest English twang in a professional, but less procrastinating, tone.

And don’t accept c’est la vie, no matter what. Take advantage of the semi-socialite caste system.

SCRA and the Tactics of Scaring Carolers Away

2006-12-25T23:48:00.000+08:00

Christmas break is no Christmas break for me (and to the rest who would want to agree).

One big headache for us junior journalism students is our Law of Mass Communication subject, where intimidation and provocative discourse are the delicacies of our Wednesday quorums. Where every Wednesday is always Hell Day.

It was only last Monday when we only realized our super high, but super high(?), Cavite State University Library slash museum has already purchased (in spite of all our frustrations for their 'yellowish artifacts' in the building) a complete set of Supreme Court Reports Annotated (SCRA). Since our campus has opened admission for students in Bachelor of Law, these SCRAs would be accessible for our law students (ah ok) and to the rest of our colleagues who wished to end their lives through over nose bleeding¹.

But unfortunately, the library staff is still enjoying sniffing the aircon odors of the hardbound books delivered. They have to bookmark them on the catalogue, yet, so no borrow. My classmate (who went there) just smirked.

We've already planned an option to go to the UP Library or the Arellano Law Library for the SCRAs. But the threat of our intimidating prof professor (who was amazed by yours truly, haha) that we will lose our lives if we don't summarize the so-claimed SCRAs forced us to pay gold. Imagine our faces when we heard our professor that these 15 (minus one, I dunno why) SCRAs are approximately a hundred page each. Plus the f*ck factor.

Are you kidding me? And who's gonna research everything?

"Neil, tinatanong pa ba yan?²", one exclaimed.

For the trip, the whole class has to contribute a hundred peso each that would accumulate three hundred pesos for our fare, one hundred pesos for the initial photocopy of the SCRAs, and only a hundred pesos for my lunch. Life is so unfair.

"How about my talent fee? My recreational fee? Labor? And the VAT (Value Added Tax)?"

A book flew in mid-air.

------

10 am, and it was the last day of Arellano Law School to accommodate students in their library. The ultimatum was so bad, so many students have already queued for the photocopy of the SCRAs inside the photocopying center beside the library. Ate Gen (a classmate) and I, with all our paawa effect³ powers, wins immunity--we convinced the lady to pend our SCRAs first... to think that she still has to look for 200 more SCRAs already queued by the students since Tuesday two weeks ago. Oh well, life is just so unfair. (evil laugh)

We still have to wait until 5 pm for the output, so we decided to cool ourselves in a nearby mall. Unfortunately, both of us are G.I. Geographically idiot, that is. We have to guess what mall is nearest to our location. I'm no Manila boy. We lived in Manila for 5 years when I was too young to worry about wearing only my undies outside our house. A bus en route to SM Southmall passed by. Great! Southmall is nearby, we thought. But before we even reach a quarter to Southmall, we gaze outside our window and saw planet Earth.

It's SM Mall of Asia.

Finally, setting my third world foot on le supermall grande royale.

We got off the bus and walked along the roadsides of the highway, thinking that the mall is nearest to us. But it isn't--the mall is just so big. We didn't think it's a kilometer away from us. I don't mind walking on long distances, but Ate Genipher has to bear with my misadventures. Poor Ate Gen, she has no choice but to walk with me along the highway. We thought of riding a jeep, but will the jeepneys hover for us? We walked instead.

What did we do in MOA?

Nothing but to go to the restroom and eat chicken--for 7 hours straight. We just walked and walked and walked and envy the Metropolitan elite who doesn't bother spending a lot inside that prestigious shopping center. What can I do with a hundred peso allowance inside the 3rd largest mall in the world?

Nah, we just took the SCRA photocopies and fled.

-----

I misunderstood Christmas.

Spending is sharing in itself. By just purchasing the cheapest baratillo/tiangge⁴ items for your gifts to your loved ones (haha) you've contributed much to the economy of the black China market. You fool yourself in disbelief that your hundred peso t-shirt (which in just one look you'll determine it's 'made from UK'^5. Whatever) is in fact bought for at least 30 pesos a piece from the pier.

Spending for many gifts is troublesome. Receiving many gifts is more troublesome, especially when you receive an item that's for sure a good buy from the tiangge, or you just receive the same item over and over again.

Christmas brings the spirit of tranquility and sharing. So why not share your belongings to the Budol-budol⁶ gang? If someone points a dagger at you, smile and greet him Merry Christmas. Then give your everything. Savor the spirit of Christmas, where crime rate is at its summit every year.

Christmas brings back your childhood memories. When you have godchildren already, you'll recall every single rule of Hide-and-seek simply by not replying to them when they ask you the very most hated question of all the Christmas seasons that have passed especially if you run out of money--"Namamasko po!"⁷.

In our case, we simply placed a large cardboard with a big "Patawad po!"⁸. So whenever someone attempts to sing outlandishly out-of-tune in front of our house, no wonder they suddenly stopped singing. And hello? Some children even carol as early as December 9. Sheesh.

Christmas is New Year's Eve.

Now this is stupid. The heck these Filipinos fire their PVC guns and crackers during Christmas. Hello? Isn't Christmas a solemn celebration of the so-called birth of Jesus Christ? Why fire up super lolos and kwitis, huh? Stupid Filipinos. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Christmas break is Christmas break. Yeah right. The right opportunity for all the teachers and professors out there to lazy on their attendance for the remaining two working weeks of December and piled every unnecessary project to be submitted on the resume of classes. Yeah right again.

Christmas' Misa de Gallo is "Simbang Gabi" in Tagalog translation, meaning "Night Mass". Now this is funny. You take a shower and dress up as early as 10 pm and wake up 3 am without brushin your teeth. What else? You cannot listen religiously to the priest's sermon because you are worried about your posh and glimmer or is just that you are already holding your nose for the mixed-up oxygen and carbon dioxide. You are worried because you might not see your loved one. And you only go to early because you have a date so you can eat puto bungbong and bibingka⁹. And it's not a night mass. Duh? 3 am a night mass?

Christmas is Christmas. There are doubts about the exact birthdate of Christ. Just like our very own CvSU Centennial Celebration's arguments on its exact date of establishment, Christmas is said to be born on September. So why celebrate?

Christmas is supposed to be happy.

...

Why can't I?

1 - An idiom in the Philippines--when someone is bombarded with high falutin English vocabulary, they nosebleed. 2 - "Is there any need to ask about that?" 3 - "Have mercy on us" effect 4 - open-air market 5 - Ukay-ukay, term used for open-air shops selling smuggled second-hand clothes/items from abroad. 6 - A popular syndicate in the Philippines that hypnotizes victims for money 7 - "Begging for alms" Christmas edition 8 - Sorry. 9 - Native delicacies in the Philippines occasionally served during Christmas season

WE CALL IT "FIESTA"

2006-12-16T21:34:00.000+08:00

(This is an uber long post. It's been a week. I have a lot to prattle about. ^_^)

It was December 8, and my semi-dusted yellowish uniform that looked expensive at first glance (can be used as substitute for katsa aprons in elementary home economics subjects, hehe) seemed to have rigged my sweat pores like fully-opened faucets in our kitchen. Exotic heat was pouring in and out of our jeepney. I reached Dasmariñas around 1:30 on a jeep en route downtown from Indang, Cavite. But I didn’t seem to notice the flashy banderitas made of unused wrappers of Oishi and Jack’n’Jill junk foods clinging the cables until some retard blew his trumpet out of tune right in front of my window. It’s my former highschool classmate, looking at me while holding his ‘flute’ and his naughtiest grin.

The traffic shocked me. The short-tutu-skirted girls with overworn makeup and germ-infested batons shocked me more. Few rolls of our wheels, it was followed by an abominable monstrosity—a parloric beauty—err--animosity homosexual with charcoal complexion and face value of a Tyrannosaurus rex holding a banner “Viva La Immaculada Concepcion—Naic, Cavite”. Talk about the current trend of beautiful muses, I nearly fainted to vast humiliation. Thank God I’m not from Naic.

I almost forgot. It’s fiesta already.

The Y-intersection going to our downtown was closed for the entrance of the mile-wide parade of musico bands and some array of motorcyclers who, well, were showing-off their motorcycles of republic cheapstakes (Harley-Davidsoners wannabes). It means I have to walk for 15 minutes from Waltermart-Dasmariñas down to a one-way road straight to the town plaza with my 10-kilo baggage of soiled clothes pungent in smells you can find in your backyard. Had my black retractable umbrella ready, but carrying three bags and one portfolio envelope? I wanna have a tan instead.

The crowd just got more crowded and garbages plentier and more rainbow-colorful when I had myself nearer to the municipal plaza. Then I saw the people looking at my direction. I gradually resigned. “Me artista ba?” (Any celebrities here?) There will be stars, but the fact that the populace was staring at me tickled me for a few milliseconds then reality bit me to consciousness. The parade is about to enter the premises, which brought them to anticipation. So I went inside a franchise of Video City across the street and savored the air-conditioning.

A few hours before the procession, right after our long exam in French (which was easy I didn’t need a review) my classmates were like 5 volume tallies plus on their mouths when they voluntarily invited themselves to be my guests for the fiesta. I diligently replied,

“Practicality is the philosophy of our subdivision, so don’t expect perfect accommodation. Better if you don’t bother asking me about the fiesta or else I’ll kill you (put a smiley here.)”

I rejoiced when I saw them disappointed (more smilies here.)

Seven years in a row, and it seemed like it’ll be endless—evading potential eager-beavers to crunch on our house in feasts for the local patrons that we apparently am not devoted to spent bucks. Perhaps we cannot afford to loot our wallets thousands of pesos for an extravagant serving of spaghetti, pansit, kare-kare, afritada, fried chicken, hotdogs, lechon, (insert more Filipino cuisine here) since it’s December, and there’s a lot of things to spend for December.

Christmas is upcoming. New Year’s Eve is coming. Lawyers are coming. Why spend for fiesta?

It’s the tradition that has been deluding, IMO, Catholic Filipinos in celebrating, as well as glorifying, patrons in our locale which were appointed by the corrupt friars of the previous Spanish regime. Albeit the religious bias of having the patron an inspiration for thousands of Filipinos has been proclaimed by religious individuals who kept on losing in debates, I suppose it’s not the will and the likeness of these patrons, in case they still live in this world until now, to have their devotees stashing money for them using lechon, tarpaulins of politicking holiday greetings, and amateur singing contests, even if they needed their money for the next decades of their lives. Our patrons didn’t prefer us making stupidity out of our devotion to them. They just want us to be wisely good citizens of the country.

Yet I somewhat argue with my own statement for some reason I don't understand.

Fiestas have been a form of social gathering where those who haven’t been meeting for years come to reunite and those who cannot afford to buy a cup of rice and a can of Ligo sardines come to gormandize. These feasts even contributed greatly for the popularity of Filipinos as the most ‘hospitable’, where all houses are open for dining and taking home other people’s utensils secretly, like what our neighbors in Aklan used to do.

People will come as your friends. After eating, that is the end of your relationship until you set another buffet next year. Also, fiestas project that all residences/houses are open to visitors. I disagree. Placards written with “Beware of Dogs” in most houses are retained, if not enlarged, even if no one cares about their existence. We do that as well, though we’ve lost our dog already. No placards. Just me looking at everyone provocatively ^_^.

Showing off is synonymous to spending a lot during fiestas. The more recipes you serve, the more plates you use in serving for the visitors, the wealthier you are in the eyes of the kidnappers. Even those who have nothing would dare grace the competition and spend everything in just one day without fearing they might not eat on the next.

Traffic is purgatorial. (But traffic is hellish in Manila with or without fiestas). You must consider jogging thrice every week in case during fiestas you are caught in the middle of carbon monoxide. If the parade of the security guards holding brasswind instruments is quite mile long and you are a regular commuter, good for you. Walk along the roads before you see San Pedro. If you are rich and you’ve pimped a car already, bwahahaha. Good luck waiting.

We have no time nor enough money to afford fiesta galore unless someone initiates to invite us to come to their place and have our stomachs filled with all the goodness of their accomodation that all thrifty guys out there always dreamed of.
----------------

UPDATE: ~~I have removed the other minor articles that made this super long (but read-worthy, still ^_^) I'll post it soon. ^_^~~

No updates still. Bleh. I will not post it again unless you ask for it.

Anyways,

Congrats to Yeng Constantino for being the very first Pinoy Dream Academy Valedictorian. I knew it ever since she made an astounding 8-week top of the chart hit 'Hawak-Kamay' (my favorite). Kudos! Astig kang bata ka! Yahoo!

Download Yeng Constantino's Hawak Kamay.mp3

MANA

2006-12-07T14:34:00.000+08:00

"Naku, Neil Brian, manang-mana talaga kayong lahat sa Daddy niyo^[1]," Mom uttered after she has slapped my thighs about a hundred times already for not waking myself up on time.

My Dad had been self-supporting; his drunkard father didn't support his schooling. He spent his teenage years selling pan de sal and street varieties and worked with his uncles sculpting wood and escayola^[2] in Paete, Laguna. Luck opened opportunities, and he found himself working with a wealthy Arab national for Islamic carvings even though he finished drafting technology in TUP. Now, a China-based American designing firm promoted him to be the supervisor of all the craftsman in Dolan Designs.

"Hay Neil, sanay ka nang turuan ang sarili mo, kaya yayaman ka siguro pagka-graduate mo."^[3]

I have never been punctual.

According to my mom, I always do, and even prioritize, unnecessary things like my father. Overdues are our meriendas. We spend more that we should. Not necessarily referring to money, but in an exemplary, we kill time for drawing for long hours, we read for long hours, we use our PC for long hours. Therefore, we sleep for long hours. I love sleeping.

I learn without learning.

I do not focus on my studies religiously. But I learn. I am not bothered in my grades, but I worry about my scholarship (we're under austerity measures). Anyway, my professors love me because I am smart. Haha.

"Mamaya na"^[4] habit

I love cramming. My dad loves cramming. But we always finish on time. And if we didn't, we still make it. Much of our delight.

Mom even finds our dad's resemblance when I eat and walk. And sometimes, she tells me I have inherited most of my dad's characteristic traits than my brothers. I pondered.

Yes, we know how to handle a spoon and a fork. But even if I have a fork on my plate, I use my hands to churn on the meat and use my fingers to dip it in ketchup, soy sauce, or the Filipino Mang Tomas sauce. Then the spoon comes in filled with rice. Baboy^[5], ano?

I am not flat-footed--all my brothers are. But the bulk on our knees make us pace like we're gonna tumble somebody down. We don't walk awkwardly... I don't know
what my mom was saying. Though I've noticed the bone bump on my brothers' shoulders which I don't have and is not related to the previous sentence.

I am the fairest of them all. No, I am not Snow White. But I sometimes been compared to a skinless turnip beside three potatoes. And most of the time, I am told to be the best-looking. Haha.

I am the most intelligent daw^[6]. I disagree. Though I have grabbed most of our academic and interschool competition awards at home, I still salute my Kuya for being so logically smart. Think about the most common sensed-tagged syllogisms in the world, and he can abide. I just sophisticate and complicate things. That's why in decision-making, Kuya is always there. The house can live without Neil saying anything.

I am more inclined to art than the rest of my brothers. They assumed I am more willing to spend my life in aesthetics than them by just placing all my masterpieces to theirs. But I suppose I have just affiliated my talents to a wider scope, and not only in art. I don't know how to explain it... I just avoid comparing my craft to my brothers because I find it merely bragging. Haha. Showing-off.

Even if in my utmost sincerity to have identified my Dad's resemblances in me, I still pave more slots in our contrasts. Which I apparently have no time identifying.

-------------

I think I am getting more serious in my studies. I didn't notice in a snap I've already bought an Inquirer newspaper a while ago thinking that it'll help in my bad writing (which I demonstrate right now.) I've also done our assignments in advance. Gawd. I don't wanna be me.

-------------

Me and my three siblings had the greenest thumbs in arts--the deepest exaltation of my Mom that none of us had the similar stick-figures she did when she was still making fun of her expensive fountain pens. None of us are not capable of drawing lines straight without rulers. And I never compared my craft to them, though I am easily flattered when my younger brothers consult me when they are troubled in some drawings which I respectfully responded with...

"Tinuruan ko ang sarili kong matuto sa ganyan, kaya matuto kayo sa sarili n'yo..." ^[7]

Bwahahaha.

Not because of selfishness, but of independence. I've been independent in nurturing what is now my specialty. I didn't rely much to our Dad. Cite the number of years he has been spending working abroad. I don't want them to be so dependent to their older brothers like what other youngest siblings do in their families. (Mind you, I'm not the eldest.)

-------------

The faculty of Languages and Mass Communication seemed to have alloted a slot for me in their peer. Like, oh Neil, you're here. How are you. And they crack jokes, as if they are of the same age as mine. They ask me like I'm their classmate. I find it kinda fishy. They are getting closer to me, and my classmates find an instrument for bridging them to the professors.

The most intimidating teachers of our college getting closer to me? Or it's just because I am the most intelligent and the most talented student in CAS who worried much on his pimples rather than memorizing the Bill of Rights? Haha. Probably, they are courting me to win another news reporting competition somewhere in Cavite? Or maybe they have just found a use of me in making all their largely-imprinted majestically-presented tarpaulins in our university?

Utu-uto^[8].

1. You're really like your father.
2. Plaster of Paris
3. Oh Neil, you might become wealthy with your self-orientation when you graduate.
4. "Will do it later"
5. Swine
6. according to some people
7. Teach yourself. I learned everything only by myself .
8. Dumbass.

CRYWOLFING

2006-12-02T00:05:00.001+08:00

According to our most reliable re-sour-ces, it's signal no. 3 in Cavite.

Two days ago, after receiving some late night news updates about a tropical storm fast approaching the Philippines, I was jumping and shouting (subconsciously) like Sarah Geronimo and her panty liner. Classes are suspended in Metro Manila, including nearby provinces. Cavite is spelled in capital letters on the rolling text. A storm mightier than Milenyo and Winnie will unleash its hydrous devastation. Three super typhoons in a row. No classes, alas. No electricity for several days, [*insert cuss words here]. No Ma'am Viado, No Ma'am Diloy, No Ma'am Ilagan. No Cavite State University. Just me and my El amor en los tiempos del cólera.

Few hours later, PAGASA confirmed that tropical storm Reming changed its course, directing its strongest winds in Mindoro as claimed by the forecasts. Metro Manila inhabitants queered. Their smiles imply gimmick and sleeping. But PAGASA further threatened that Reming can pre-empt its direction. I smirked. Suffering is the understatement.

So I fully understand that we're still gonna have bad weather since Reming's coverage is humongously wide, not a single pinch of sky blue can be found except the paint job in my room. In fact, signal no. 3 is raised here in Cavite already. The storm warning purportedly states semi-devastation; gales that would swish big tree branches along their direction, and terra-cotta pots smashing in roarness galore. Oh, and don't forget the parakeets who seemed to silence themselves and produce non-hatching eggs inside their cages. My fear of electricity outage is on its peak. I can't live without my electric fan.

10 hours have passed. Mom succeeded drying my 7-kilo clothes. Teri is playing Legend of Zelda. I can still hear Willie Revillame singing Boom Tarat. Right now, it's signal no. 1. I'm yawning.

I wanna throw a stone at PAG-ASA.

----------

Mike Arroyo, and his bite-size wife Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo (she does not deserve the prefix) was rushed to the hospital. Some Myna bird told me the fatso First Gentleman is undergoing an angioplasty. Blocked blood vessels? Hahahaha.

And even GMA accompanied her. The hospital staff gagged their mouths to disclose any information about their confinement.

Last week, they prompted to St. Luke's Hospital for a so-called 'executive checkup'. The doctor assigned pronounced good health and long life for both of them except Mike's fats getting flabbier in direct proportion to the amount he's taking from our shipping line.

Gloria Arroyo was confined to St. Luke's six months ago because of diarrhea. The next month, she was attacked with flu. The eve of my birthday owned her executive checkup.

Awooo. I wish them fewer days to procrastinate.

[edit] Lying won't let themselves out of it. Take it from Marcos. [/edit]

-------------

I am happy to know that our adopted puppy, MC, has found better home in the hands of my classmate Ara. Only us have the heart to take care of the puppy religiously unlike my housemates who seemed to loved it when it was still small and cute and not barking. They don't even care about its daily bathing, and of plasticity they claimed they loved the puppy, loved dogs and finally their true colors showed their negligence to it after growing up. I hate them.

----------

Stray cats seemed to have their guts up surging in our residence. Kapal ng mukha. All they know is to flirt with humans for food. And after eating, they scram, as if they don't know anybody except at par some goon is trying to catch them for siopao. Kapal talaga ng mukha. And they always make sure their leftovers are rolling everywhere. Napakakapal talaga ng mukha. We've attempted to extinguish them with rat poison, but their stomachs are tough.

Arrrgh. The nerve.

Categories: Pulitikan

BIRTHDAYS AND BENIGNO AQUINO JR.

2006-11-27T02:12:00.000+08:00

No. Not Noynoy.

Some of my classmates told me about a book that interprets people's personalities in birthdays using different astrological media. To tell you the truth, each time I read these forecasts, I am usually heard saying, "Ganun? Muolleh? Keure? Talaga?"--either of these four.

-------------

When ~~my classmates~~ people ask me about my birthday, I'd say "Same as Ninoy Aquino's".

Three of us eldest sons of the family have the same birthdays with some notable heroes in the Philippines.

My eldest brother, Prince, whom I'm not in good terms with (which translates to 'no casual conversation', 'no tone of reverence in replying', and 'no talking to him when I don't have to routine so just talk to my lawyer if you want to read my last will and testament, ok?' routine) celebrates with Gregorio del Pilar, a young but intelligent general of his ages. No wonder both of them are intelligent and stubborn.

Henry, brother next to me, doesn't talk too much because he's suplado and he has a lot of energy to save for having too much admirers. But the Ama ng Wikang Pambansa (Father of the National Language) ex-Pres. Manuel L. Quezon popped out of Maria Molina's pussy the very same day as my brother's. I guess my brother will be a blabbermouth later on, but knowing my brother as a Casanova? Hmmm, I'll ask his third generation namesake descendant.

The youngest, Teri?
Nah, he envies our patriotic birthsakes.

And finally, me? Yours truly? Should I be proud of having the same birthday as the husband of an Orocan elementary teacher turned forgettable President and the father of an intelligent but voluptuously barbaric coño flirt hag Kris Aquino and the grandfather of a clinically proven retard son-of-an-action-star? (what a run-on ^_^)

Of course, yes. I wanna be on TV.

Subconsious speaks to Neil: Oh, so you'd like to see yourself getting killed in your next international flight which I presume would be one of your TV guestings in the US? Cracking your face on the concrete floor from a two-storey high airplane would make you ugly on your crematory rites. Well anyway, you'll be pulverized in extreme heat, so vanity doesn't make sense.

I need a class of water.

---------

Had some remarkable firsts during most of the previous birthdays I passed through.

First field trip, November 27, 1997
First gift from a girl, November 27, 1995
First gift from a boy, November 27, 1994
First watch, November 27 year of something
First trip to Baguio, November 27, 2003
First perfected periodical exam in Statistics and Algebra, November 27, 2004
First Starstruck, November 27, 2004

I planned to finally go to Enchanted Kingdom today. But unfortunately this year, we have no money. I have no trasportation allowance this week. Zero balance. I'm supposed to attend our French 1 class but I'm still here in Dasma. I need a hundred pesos to go to Indang.

Hmmm... seems like I have to wait another year before at last I could set my third world foot on a place where no Filipino kid has missed during their educational field trips...

Joyeux anniversaire à moi.

----------

... I guess my Dad has forgotten about my birthday.

Oh well, I'm already used to it.

Hmm... he said he didn't. I told him. Now, he will not. ^_^

Categories: Personalan

STRONGHOLD

2006-11-25T13:26:00.000+08:00

I was lucky to have enrolled with full academic scholarship two weeks ago (though ironically I have to pay a thousand pesos--full academic scholarship, huh?) According to my astrological profile, this month is sweepingly devastating for finances.

INSUFFICIENT FUNDS

How I wish I can search for the Gameshark codes of "Unlimited Money" in Gamefaqs.com tweaking my PS game called "Fate".

My younger brother, Henry (haven't told you about him? I'm second among my three brothers; Henry's third) has to stop schooling for a year. I asked him why he insists. We cannot afford to enroll us all, he said. Besides, we have to pay for the grandiosity of my Kuya's nursing curriculum where we have to allot a whopping 20 thou for his Nursing exam review next month, enough for me to buy a new Smartphone which I broke last month (thank you =_=). I cannot afford to compromise his schooling--Philippine Nautical Technological College strictly implements regular-enrolled students. That is, Henry has to wait until the second semester next year for him to enroll in the regular curriculum.

I envy Henry for not being indulged to loads of academic requirements where twenty pages is the least amount of paper to review for a short quiz. But I am so frustrated, thinking that my scholarship's motive of lessening this month would be of no use.

I was surprised--ultimately--to receive the grades from our instructors. I've been delinquent and irresponsible, but I was lucky to have accumulated a GPA of 1.46. Full academic scholarship starts from 1.5 for a 24-unit semester.

It could have been better if my one half cup of disinterest in my course and two tablespoons of diluted laziness and chopped cramming were cooked properly.

MCOM 22 - Communication Theories - 1.50

I communicate a lot, not with other people but with my subconscious. Don't ask me how, but I know I can.

I never reached all our MCOM sessions on time. Thirty minutes late is my Filipino time, and our intelligent professor got used to it. I used to make absences, but I didn't fail. I love misplacing all my handouts, and everything I know about this subject is everything that I only understood. Reviewing my photocopied handouts made me sleepy in all our unholy hours.

I guess our professor thinks I am smart.

FAVC 2 - Basic Photography - 1.25

I know I can handle my SLR camera very well. In this subject, I crammed. But I didn't have the nerve to cheat even if all our deadlines were the last hours of my life. Honestly.

Issues about some of my classmates' photos resided after my classmate created a documentation candidly revealing how my classmates acquired their exposures--sharing extra photos for those who lacked. But one thing was revealed to me--someone actually got pictures from a photo studio and claimed it as hers (very abhorring to me--I detest that act... gagawin ang lahat para lang magka-uno >:-( )

Because of that, our beloved professor (she's so respectable and kind and loving, we even made her a cartoon portrait with her body resembling Danaya of Encantadia in her birthday) was disappointed. She cried for so much heartfelt disrespect in her profession as a teacher. She required each and every one to write a confession letter whether we cheated our photos or not. And we understand. We love her. We cannot afford to disappoint her more.

SOSC 6 - Rizal - 1.50

What? 1.5? Where the hell our instructor based my grade as 1.5? And someone not deserving got 1.25 because she used to make fun of our instructor all the time? The nerve... he didn't even looked on his class records to compute our grades. Brr.

CISM 60 - Visual Basic - 1.25

Ok. I never reviewed all my handouts. Everything was spontaneous. I passed all my hands-on exams. I always finish first in our drills. I didn't get high grades in objective tests, but my professor gave me 1.25. (evil laugh)

CISM 65 - Management Information System - 1.75

I'll solely not comment on this one. First, our professor teaches this subject for the first time. Second, she's not a good teacher (but she's compassionate, but not a good teacher). Third, she follows her curriculum strictly. I topped the class with this grade. I have nothing else to say (burrp!)

CISM 70 - Data Management - 1.25

I love Ma'am Nosa. We all love Ma'am Nosa. And you don't know her. She's practically not making all her explanations hard to digest. I mean, we're Mass Comm students but IT language is Martian (except for me. Lol). But she made it easier for us. We understood her subject very well. She's been very generous in giving us more time to conduct our case studies.

I impressed our instructor and the rest of the IT faculty in our case defense. Actually, your truly is the only one who spoke eloquently and intelligibly for the group because I am the only one who created the documentation. And we got the highest grade. Haha. Storm signal no. 5.

JOURN 55 - News Writing - 2.00

Nah, Jun del Rosario was guessing.

FOLA 1 - Nihongo - 1.25

I didn't fail his exams. I bested. And I didn't make sipsip (because someone does... we all know about it. Haha.)

ENGL 6 - Speech Communication - 1.50

Our instructor loves me. Haha. He just loves me how I speak. I never got serious in his subject, but he loves me. I didn't review his handouts, but he loves me. I got high grades. And his highest is 1.50. He really loves me.

But I hate his diction.

-------------

PACMAN packs for politics?

That would be the most stupid thing he has ever planned. If he does have the plan or he just made his responses to our exaggeratedly super-excited media of pseudo-humility and coy.

And the Atienzas? Kiss Lito Atienza's son's ass, Pacquiao. They are using your fame, Pacquiao. I know you are not stupid. Or maybe I am wrong.

Father? Father his ass. Can't you see Singson and Atienza dogging you since you won over Morales? And they don't act as your second fathers. They just want you to be their wife.

You wave your hands and they do the same, even if they didn't contribute greatly in your fights but to influence other gamblers to bet millions for you. They ride the same cars and glitter on the same motorcade like Precious Lara Quigaman even if they don't have bruises on their freakin' monstrous faces like yours.

And Arroyo? Ha, the nerve to act more like Boy Abunda to chit-chat with you than our Vice President who smirks each question. Showbiz. Can't you see her pretenses?

Your popularity has been dwelt by macaroons of politicking and opportunity-taking of their incumbency. Hellouer? That son of Atienza (who looks like a squid) wearing the same gay red polo and braargh, the leis he placed on you before you reached the lower grounds of NAIA? Blasphemy. Super gay. And nakilandi ka naman, Packy?

You swore not to run, Pacquiao. Or else, you'll never see us patronizing you as one of our fellow countrymen who wished politics would turn your multi-million assets times two.

Screw you, Pacman for being stupid like Fernando Poe Jr.

Categories: Personalan, Pulitikahan

THE LONER

2006-11-19T03:43:00.000+08:00

My posts are supposed to be funny. I created this blog basically just to make fun of myself, to conjure all my misadventures in life though worth to be snail-mailed to Maalala Mo Kaya. I dunno if you laugh your hearts out on them. I created this blog just to cream out my tickle zones to alphabet. Or maybe I was assuming too much. Hmm, I guess I am right. I assume too much.

My apologies for posting again after 48 years. You know, I was busy dealing with people whose sexualities are questionable... just read on.

-----------

I never had a best friend. Ever.

(I told you I'm not friendly. K? ^_^)

I told Juice one time (Oh great. Now I'm pretending to be one tangibly close friend of Juice who has now mesmerizing her unforgettable moments in a place called Disneyland HK, I so envy her I wanna sell my soul to her. Lol) on one of her (tribute to her bestfriend--hey, her 'living' bez) posts.

Friendship is one hard to deal with. For me, it's like the spaghetti you order in a fastfood where you decide whether to scoop it up at swoop it into your throat or to roll it using your fork and chew it before the sauce explodes into your mouth. Or you just omit the fastfood thing and eat the spaghetti bought in some shanty carinderia in your neighborhood since spaghetti is so delicious, I want to add more condiments in my next order. You get my point?

And once you liked the spaghetti, you crave for other recipes, and return where you bought the spaghetti in the first place, aiming for some promo of discounts or cheap freebies in the likes of stuff toys, kiddie ballpens that run out of ink after 5 uses--practically useless, etc, and then once you liked it, you make that fastfood or carinderia a routine. Confident that it'll never sneak Hepatitis into your digestive track and look like Tweety Bird. Or nothing's gonna change because you looked like Tweety Bird since my birth.

I always love to eat. But I don't overdue myself with some similar cravings everyday with the same recipe I should eat. It just makes my stomach upset.

Same thing with befriending people.

I am not so sure, but I can't trust anyone with full confidence. In fact, I have never ever disclosed even to my closest friends about the names of people brought to existence in my memory because of premature academic infatuation. Neither initials nor any single clue. Ever.

Skeletons remained skeletons. And I am patient enough to have it fossilized for a thousand years.

But I know how to have a best friend. I know that I am capable to have one. But I always think otherwise. Perhaps, I just can't give all my trust to anybody.

Trust just obscures the demarcation line between my professional well-being and the casualness of the context of our text messaging. Like, hey, I am your friend. I can kiss your ass and do nothing, not worrying about the hell of your failures because I fail too. So let's bark and smuggle the beans in hell with Dante.

It just ruins everything. Obligating, I guess provides a little bit of trust, but not the trust which I fully depend everything to someone.

You know this feeling that you want everything to be done by yourself and if you have someone to do it for you, when you're not satisfied with his work, you don't complain and instead mumble by yourself, blaming his failure to yourself by trusting him?

Trusting your family members is different. It's a mutual responsibility.

I can't clearly define what having a bestfriend is.

....

But I think I know what having a bestfriend looks like.

Now the weird part of the scenario...

Ok. I live in this apartment with 2 boys, 2 gays, and 4 girls. But it doesn't have something to do with my inquiry.

Do bestfriends, male or female, kiss and hug and kiss under the blanket?

I don't know if I am the only one who thinks awkwardly. But when I see these girls or boys during sleeptime, or even within the most ordinary hours of our weekdays inside our apartment, they were like, oh you're my best friend, I can kiss you and hug you intimately and err, I don't know what they are doing under the 'kumot' but I sense hito and talakitok (fish variety).

Should they?

ME NO GOOD

2006-11-05T17:50:00.000+08:00

When I was a kid, I hardly followed my parents' orders.

Image a kid of his early toddler years looking provocatively to every creature in the world, cynical to every word humans say to him or speak on his behalf.

I was Gaara. I was a monster ten years ago.

I am the black sheep of the clan, the stars told me when I was sleeping ten years ago.

I can't seem to figure out how my parents raised me--changed me to what I am right now.

There really are some people who does not want to agree on anything. Ads of 'Catdog' on Nickelodeon will tell that to you. It's not merely of the promising differences that parents see on their child to keep them abiding the wants and the tantrums of their kids that's why parents do what they want while kids conform otherwise. I don't know. The theorem is rather confusing.

I remember, I was told not to poo on my diaper. I know that I should not. But I still did. I am very much aware of everything. Maybe I have mild symptoms of Lesch-Nyhan syndrome which i had avoided because I was cynical and negating and opposing for its existence in my genes. OMG, now I am a God.

I was told a hundred times not to point on anything when we stroll inside supermalls. But my parents end up half of their wallet swished to dimwits while I have the swells on my cheeks. Oh, and don't forget the Miniature Horse collection by Davidson and Company.

My dad wanted me to eat vegetables. I want to eat cereals. Or eggs. Or meat. Or just anything except the vegetables. I threw up a glass of Eight o' Clock because of talong, ampalaya and kalabasa and swollen my lips to punishment.

I wanted to be awake during afternoons. Superstitions forbade me. I force myself to keep my eyes naturally shut as possible. But err, I'm no cheapipay actor like LA Lopez who's whiny pimpsqueak acting torched his queriness. But that's a different story. Hands squished my eyeballs. Oh, I thought I was slicing onions.

I was a proud retard. I couldn't read properly. I couldn't count accurately. I couldn't talk eloquently. I was a lefty.

My hands promise Caravaggio and Da Vinci but my brain foretells Patrick Starfish. If I am to count how many times my mom smacked broomsticks, belts, beltlocks, dusters, etc on my arms for not using them properly but to draw X-Men and Darna using red ballpens, I might give you prepaid loads 1000 each and will never expire. I am right-handed already. Not only that my abilities shifted from left to right, my photographic memories as well. Think about the location of Russia and North America the other way around which I fought with my gradeschool teacher and nearly forwarded yours truly to the Principal's office.

I am bobo ever since. A mild manifestation of ADHD so to my own speaking.

I have a persona of childhood retribution. I commemorate the memories--sweet memories of my short-hand entries to Fate distorted by x and y.

Glad that I am far more different now.

Categories: Personalan

MULING PAGKABUHAY

2006-11-03T02:36:00.000+08:00

My unfinished cover for
our 'Bare|Hubad' literary folio.

PRELUDE

Don't click this... please...

"Boom tarat tarat... boom tarat... tararat... tararat... BOOM BOOM BOOM"

Eeeeerghhh... Last Song Syndrome disturbs me...

Oh please, stop Willie... stop... aaaargh

"Boom tarat tarat... boom tarat... tararat... tararat... BOOM BOOM BOOM"

AAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!

* * *

Days have passed and nothing has changed.

I am still the cracked up credo of the family who practically makes himself out by listening to Korean songs and creeping my intestines to starvation by watching Iron Chef. My room is still blue, preserved by the humidity of our bungalow goodness on the hilltops of Cavite. Though some gray scabs the serenity of the hue, the paint does seem to doze with the touché of substandardization--a gesture of carelessness that faded the flawlessness of my previous masterpiece......

...eeew. That was boring. ^_^ I can't believe I just did that... Lol.

* * *

I've resurrected from my grave. Too much sleeping, too much eating, too much potato-couching, too much ass-juicing, bleeh.... I still have my hangovers. Some maggots are still squirming inside my nasal cavities that's why I can't breathe comfortably. Hey, Mickey! Stop chewing my kidneys, ok? Ouch, (*squish). Oh Jim, it tickles... ugh... (swallowed Combantrin). Squeeeeee!

* * *

SUICIDAL

I am a God.

OMG. Superiority complex.

I killed myself many times before I signed up for a blog.

I tried stabbing my stomach with a cleaver. I slide the blade slowly to the right, slicing the pouch of my intestines. Blood gushed faster than the acids that melted most of the gobbles that I thought were my kidneys...

I fainted... but still lived. Hell, I didn't know hospitalization is that freakin' expensive in DLSU-UMC.

Then I made a cheap stake out of my online socialite candor--slashing my wrist.

I thought it was not painful. It's just a cut on the wrist anyway, I gasped. But errgh, blood spewed outrageously from my veins. Crimson stained our mattresses. It didn't control itself but let flow of its anger. It was gruesome.

I fainted...

... but still lived.

A simple gauze and some blood donation killed my killing.

I was so desperate. I want to make things more complicated to them...

We have this oven. I placed my head inside. Grasping the knob above my neck, I turned it 350 degrees.

The tingling sensation became enormously agonizing. It dried my eyes and boiled my skin. I smell burnt plastic on my head. My hair is burning. My lips are popping. I can't see anything. I was losing my senses... one at a time.

It was so painful, I can't almost feel anything. The heat was pounding millions of needles puncturing my face one by one. More pops occurred. I didn't know what has been going on. Then I slept. I never woke up.

I was successful.

...

I thought I was.

Dreck, WHAT THE HELL IS MANNY AND PIE CALAYAN DOING HERE?

* * *

RESURRECTION

I just have some things in mind that I think I've done a great deal for putting an end to their years of hibernation.

My Smart Amazing Phone left me last April. So I deposited it to a cellphone repair shop in Indang, thinking that they are specialized in Smartphones. But hell, it took me a dozen "sa Wednesday balikan mo..." before I realized they never had their dirty fingernails touched the keypad of my phone. I never paid, and dreadfully regretted to have landed my godliness in that swamp--only to realize that I can fix my phone by myself.

I attached it to my PC and turned it on. And POOF! It sparked! And booted to Windows Mobile. Sheesh.

Thank you effing much for keeping me waiting for 5 months, suckos in Wurmworks, Brgy. 4, Indang, Cavite. Don't go there. Don't go there. I said, don't go there.

* * *

I made hukay the baul of our semi-bodega under my bed and found my very first webcam slash digicam from Creative.

When i first installed this 3 years ago, it can only record videos and snapshots. Now, with the added features embedded on its updated webcam center, it could actually turn into a motion sensing surveillance camera. Haha.

* * *

I seldom draw nowadays. I don't know what's happening to me. My passion to it now requires a cog for an obligation that should be fulfilled.

My anime fanaticism pales slowly each time I watch melodramas on TV. Our free TV restricts it. Our cable TV retards it. Now, I'm losing the real side of me... the real side of me 7 years ago...

Now, I draw and draw and draw, and planning to have my dormant comic series Canvas to have a grand return-of-the-comeback. If it's not gonna push through, I'm gonna make a short film about the relativity of outer shells of atoms to time, fate, and the so-called "world". Help me with my endeavors, guys.

* * *

I love Yeng Constantino. I love her. A songwriter, a rocker, a diva, a dancer-- a popstar. TOTAL PERFORMER. Complete package. I love her. I love her. I love her. WE LOVE HER.

I'll spread more love to everybody. Download Yeng Constantino's Hawak-Kamay.mp3. Hahaha! Piracy is the best policy! I'm so mean! Median and mode! Whohoo!

I just wanna make her more popular. That's all. ^_^

Uh... how come I write this here? Waaah!

* * *

The Executive Producer of Pinoy Dream Academy is murdered. Our condolences to the family of Mr. Siervo.

* * *

OMG... What the hell is happening to me?

Categories: Personalan, Tsismisan

러브래터 (Love Letter)

2006-10-31T09:38:00.000+08:00

Dunno how to start. Really. I wanna throw a thousand and one stones at Blogger for keeping me from updating my blog. Brrargh. Hell you go, Blogger

I am postless today. I am postless for the past two weeks. Brrrgh.

How come I can't post? Brrraargh! And now that I can post, I am postless! Brraaaargh!

Damn you Blogger! Damn you Blogger!

PIN! TIN! GK! MNK! AKNP! TK!

-----------------

Senseless. Read on. Ok. Ok. I plagiarized Rowjie's lettersending to himself and the cosmos. Hahaha. Go on. Sue me. The deepest hell I care.

Blessings to the following:

-----------------

Dearest Blogger, Google, et al,

P.I.N.L.!

Love,
Estupidormitorian.

-----------------

Dear EPSON,

Damn you for wasting thousands of peso worth ink cartridges for our pandemoniously gorgeous printouts! Damn you for making us late in submitting our newsletter for Mr. Jun del Rosario. Damn you, EPSON C61! Damn you! Damn you!

Love lots,
Estupidormitorian

------------------

Dear Globelines Broadband/Postpaid,

Damn you for all the 40 something number of interruptions/prohibition/modem mishaps in our internet connection! Damn you for nearly killing us waiting badly for your modest response of allowing our username and password to access your domain for the nth time! Damn you for sending us loads of demand letters obligating us to pay our arrears in our previous postpaid connection 7 YEARS AGO! Damn you for tracing ours and all our friends' addresses! Damn you, Globe! Damn you!

Hugs and kisses,
Estupidormitorian

-------------------

Dear Cavite State University,

Damn you for gagging our student publication by having your fat-ass cohoots in the Office of Student Affairs ass-bouncing for implicit censorship! Damn you Infirmary for charging us semestral medical fees for stethoscope touching and x-ray blinking! Damn you for all the abomination you pretentiously supplicate to the retardsia of our university! Damn you for super low quality education! Damn you for all! Damn you all!

Respectfully yours,
Estupidormitorian

-------------------

Ne Brown/Blackout,

Chugonni? Assi, Muo? Algettdaro! Pwo keudo shippannya? Shipparya! Shipparyahandago shippalya! Shippal! Waa! Shippal! Tto shippanya!

Neoye nomu chingu,
Eseuchuppidoreumittoryan.

-------------------

Dear First sem newsletters, case defenses, play productions, speech choirs, and all,

Wahahaha! Damn you all! I'm through with all of you! Bwahahaha! Damn you all! Throw yourselves into the damnest abyss of my oblivion! Damn you all! Bwahahahar (*more evil laugh here)!

Lovingly yours,
Estupidormitorian

-------------------

Amen.

Categories: Personalan

WHY AM I IDLE?

2006-10-25T15:10:00.000+08:00

Blame it to this.

Categories: Personalan, Eskwelahan

GREENBELTNESS

2006-10-17T05:08:00.000+08:00

Super late post again. Come on, bear with my 'hectication', 'businessationality' and everything.

PRELUDE

It was my very first time to land my 3rd world foot on the Italian / French looking majesty cinemas inside a freakin' good-assed building called "Greenbelt". Don't be confused with Greenhills. Ha.

------

I'm no moviegoer, figuratively a movietheater devotee. For the past 17 years of my life I 've only watched probably 5 movies with all my butt squeezing bedbugs inside movie theaters in SM. Count it: Jurassic Park 1, Aringkingking, Casper, Abracadabra, and Bahay ni Lola. I dunno how I got myself into the last two movies, but I'm sure I was with the rest of my family when we watched those. Yes I support piracy. We support piracy. Piracy is the best policy.

Stop piracy--yeah right, whatever. (Hail torrents--no, I loathe pirated DVDs. I only pirate Microsoft software ^_^). I just don't like the feeling that I am inside a dark room full of strangers screaming or talking what you can't scream or talk about.

Last Wednesday, after being invited by Direk Gil Portes (whose mail account very accessible to me ^_^), we attended their cocktail party/premiere night of his latest creation 'Barcelona' with the main acts portrayed by Alessandra de Rossi and Luis Allandy. It's actually not a premiere night, but an exhibit of Spanish films participating in the Pelikula Spanish Film Fest spearheaded by the Instituto Cervantes, the OMFG classy Spanish language school which IMO teaches European posh and culture-embracing intellect (which I honestly like).

Wonder how I got invited?

I worked as a four(supposedly five)-thousand-peso-worth two-week Production/Office assistant of Gil Portes during my summer vacation. I was referred to Portes by one of our instructors in CvSU to be one of his student production assistants. (Actually, I was the only one).

Lucky that it only lasted for two weeks. Haha. Don't ask me. Ask his driver. ^_^

----------------
'FIRST' TIMENESS

It was actually my second time to watch a premiere showing of a movie, but this one felt as the very first with all the glamour and exquisite sophistication of the people in formal attire and accent of English, Castiliano, and rhotic Taglish. Upon hearing their intricate twang, I feel like I'm the poorest person on Earth. Not to mention being the dumbest and the most fascinating Squidwarddish walking iron-eating-bamboo on the cosmos with my Classic URight Bavarian-colored T-Shirt and a sloppy pair of fade-out jeans. Plus the stainless-steel-teeth. Kinda resembled the male counterpart of Ugly Betty.

First time for a fugly Hobbit to indugle in crappy formal events in cinemas. First time for a Cavite migrant to land on Greenbelt Cinemas.

But honestly, I thought Sailormoon was there. I was welcomed with a lot of men in tuxedos and women dressed fashionably in gloomy but shining shimmering dark shades of brown, blue, and black. A few dared to ramp with light shades and denim. Talk about looking like the commoners of suburban/metropolitan fanaticos whose eyes were into the crippled (joke) leg-broken Luis Allandy with their digicams raving with anticipation. Not to mention the faculty who joined us for the cocktail party who giggled after one of my colleagues took a close-up shot of Luis.

Nope. No photos here. Envy the digicam owners. Wish I could have one. Sheesh.

We waited for about 3 hours before the actual start of the cocktail party. We ventured the smoky smithereens of Metropolitan smog 5 hours earlier just to find out that the film is actually gonna start at 7 pm. With that, I frustrate myself for eating a sloppy Java rice (which honestly looked like a cup-molded kanin with Achuete extract) and Salisbury steak that tasted like Jollibee burger patties. I forgot the name of that Sizzling fastfood for the hell I care.

The moment I walked in the sosyaling Greenbelt cinemas, I was intimidated. Why the hell Cinemas would be as intricately designed as this one? Or maybe this is the only cinema I have seen so far. Makati outside, Galleria inside. Parang squatter tuloy ako.

Saw familiar faces at the cinema 1 entrance. Props for the cocktail party were already set. Some members of the press were waiting (for me, joke). Waiters carrying canapes (drool all over). My head was moving counterclockwise when I suddenly cracked my head with a very familiar voice:

Uy, kayo, andito na pala kayo.

It's Direk, calling us to grab nine of his movie tickets for the screening.

Too bad, he doesn't seem to remember my name but the familiar face of one young boy who taught him how to send e-mails.

He approached me and shook my hands with excitement. The typical 'como estas' dialogo. Plasticity is the best policy.

Days of working with him flashed back into my mind the time he pat his palm on mine. It was nostalgic--the Tropical Hut meals on the PC desk, the Mocha Java coffee I bought, the 3-hour commuting on Jasper buses, the stinky smell of Salmonella and E coli, the vegetarian Kare-kare, the backstabbing of showbiz personalities and personnel, the talk-about-who inside private vehicles, the shouting, the cussing, the intimidation, the liquidations, the Quezon province journey--it cracked me up for about 30 milliseconds and eventually gained consciousness afterwards.

Eto po, I'm with my schoolmates. Musta po kayo?

It was sincere. He missed me and his pseudo basic scriptwriting orientation inside his office.

Then I got nine tickets directly from the director himself. Was lucky to have worked with him that gave me the opportunity to have a wonderful experience in the film industry even just a short while.

Upon receiving the tickets, I shifted ego.

Gutom na ako, I uttered to my former publication co-staffers.

(Whoah--ain't I pride high enough to evade these guys for my goodness gracious character, direction, and career-building sake? Anyway,)

6:30 pm when the artistas came. No shouting or screaming presided. Total formality and procrastination was there. Fans and other moviegoers peeking to take a closer look of the celebrities. Showbiz. Cute guy in crutches. Dressed copper-skinned mulatto in distress. Lhar Santiago.

Then time came that people started queueing for the entry. I'm not sure if they're excited for the movie or starving to get their hands on the canapé and Maria Sangria. I was hungry.

Stickers replaced tickets. Excitement was there for the fingerfoods. So-called press trying to squeeze in to enter but to no avail they were reprimanded. No fingerfood for him. Haha.

Then we indulge ourselves in the hands-on picking. Everything can be swallowed on one bite. But puhleease, why the hell their lumpiang longanisas taste like garbage? Just kidding. (No really, they taste like garbage, as if I have eaten one) I just didn't like the sour flavor of sour sausages in lumpia wrappers albeit the most 'sosyaling longanisa on the planet'.

Also, it was then my realization that cocktail parties are not liberately obscene (yougetmahpoint?).

I didn't notice I got myself full with the canapes being served. Yummy sauce-filled cupcakes, shrimp-on-stick, tokneneng-on-mayo, tidbit sandwiches, and others I can't recall eating. Plus the cocktail and the iced tea I smooched, I've had a complete dinner for a formal cocktail fest. But no thanks, we were like maggots squeezing for stomach satisfaction, we actually appeared to be eyeing for the food rather than the premiere. Go figure.

And then the clock struck seven.

Shape-shifters finally divulged themselves. No sosyal-sosyalan. First come first serve. This is the excruciating part.

The cinema can only accomodate 160 persons for the guests. The middle section had already been reserved that's why no evening gowns considered for physical empathy at the entrance. Paunahan. That was questionable. Lucky that we were able to squeeze in for not leaving the cocktail party premises. That is, if we were lucky.

Wait for my review of "Barcelona" by Gil M. Portes. But please, don't expect it to be eargasmic and pleasing. The terror critic is here. Haha.

Categories: Tsismisan, Personalan

CATAMARAN

2006-10-12T02:01:00.000+08:00

Hello guys. My number is 09215934749. I repeat. 09215934749. Haha.

Sheesh. Bulbasaurs are slowly multiplying on my was-turned flawless face again. Korean moisturizer, Eskinol painfully phlegm-like stingy acne gel... where art thou?

-------

Much had been blogged about the Milenyo typhoon that has offered a two-day blackout (yep, two days) that almost killed hundreds of our neighbors not because of the absence of electronic ventilation but of insecurity to our unrelented water supply. It has exfoliated all the cheapest rooftops and corncoboboed (coined term ^_^) cheapstake slum walls of recycled wood and substandard fortifications of Tagalogsia. And with its floods, it even rinsed all the toxins and impurities from our trepid drainages that caused snails, snakes, earthworms, and snake-looking-earthworm-shaped human excretions to swim synchronously with some stupidly-raised-by-parents kids in the road floods. And guess what? Some housemat from a Hobbit elsewhere that clogged one of our drainages caused it. Floods swept all the sand and cement from our neighbor's house renovation. Very nice.

But hey, floods never reached our inside fence floors. Milenyo was no match to our newly-Vulca Sealed (actually, my mom ran out of Vulca so she caressed Elasto for the uncreamed nails) roof. But err, the Santol tree of my neighbor hula-hooped to the right, smashing the Meralco wires and the rooftop of the house right next to it, pulling OUR Meralco wires forward. Thank God, our construction workers' toiling really paid off, and we never lost electricity prematurely (haha. Kawawa yung mga may-ari ng bahay na nabagsakan. When our village recovered electricity, they were the only distinguishably visible dark house. [*evil laugh])

Can't imagine how the trees in Dasmariñas enjoyed their morning exercise routine with a 170 kph breeze. Like,

"C'mon fellow low-belter-juice suckers, listen carefully. I want you to keep your stomatas widely open as much as possible. Put all your stems in the air and follow my routine. For monocots, just keep your leaves closest to your centrix and don't bend too hard. Hey you, coconut. Don't shake your head that overratedly. Same with Durian and Jackfruit. For dicots, place your left midsect branches beneath your canopy layer and have your right branches stretched outwards to the left. Make sure your fruits are kept intact.

Now ready--Here we go...

Left----"

And then they stopped exercising.

My take. I nearly thanked the Lord for providing me the Signal no. 3 storm that postponed our photo exhibit opening (which apparently didn't come out pretty well) to a week later than what was planned. I had no photos to be posted prior to the opening day, and hearing the suspension of classes greeted me the loudest exaltation of all the Gods in the universe.

But you know what, it's not actually the no-electricity that boiled all the blood cells in my brain. Forty-five peso worth candles and a 30 percent increase in transportation did. I should've cried this to them--

"@$#%*! kayong lahat, sisiguraduhing kong hindi kayo aasenso sa buhay sa mga pinaggagawa niyo. Habambuhay kayong magiging tricycle driver at malulugi ang inyong sari-sari store sa dami ng saksak at taga sa inyo ng pinag-utangan niyong Bombay de-motorsiklo! Sisiguraduhin kong mamatay kayo sa sakit sa bituka't utak. You'll die begging for nothing, and I swear I'll personally deliver your filthy self-f*cking ghosts to the bottommost circle of Dante's Inferno. Have fun kissing Judas! Kakakarmahin kayo, mga hayop kayo!"

[smiling with a bright halo on his head]

[Nope. I don't use cuss words. I am a good pers--WTF, PI naman oh, natapon yung kape ko... No really, I don't cuss.]

My irregularly palpitating body is dredged to tons of academic requirements for the past few weeks in the University, I wanna faint right now. Don't catch me. I'm a God. I can float. Joke.

-------

First.

I am the no-choice-but-to-accept-the-so-claimed-volunteer-call Editor in Chief of our 20-page newsletter "Cavite Watchdog" as final requirement in News Writing. Mr. Jun del Rosario (a retired Senior Manager of ABS-CBN News Dept now indulged in his cash-burning Cavite political career) is apparently eyeing us with a 'better, wonderful output' since he's (awfully) aware that I am a previously self-proclaimed newspaper writer/artist/singer/dancer/macho dancer merged in one when I was practically eating nosedirt in The Gazette.

Been in different police stations in Cavite (so far, Trece Martirez City and Indang) with a nifty shoulder bag, a Smartphone slash recorder (that stupidly runs out of batt when it reaches its two-bar indication--turned stupid like me), some kapal ng mukha, and a smart-alecky friendly but intimidating tone that has quite given me the 'professional look', which I honestly don't like =_=.

Now, most of my classmates have not gone to their designated municipalities but I am rather considerate. To read the next lines, you'll be satisfied. ~~Now I've moved my personal deadlines on Tuesday afternoon (bwahaha... as if I'm a real Editor in Chief ^_^)~~ Deadlines are never dead to me. They reincarnate as many times as I turn toxic each darkest days of my life.

------

Second.

Our Case Study about the MIS being used by the Aklatang Emilio Aguinaldo in De La Salle University - Dasmariñas is already snoozing us to feed them some attention. Brrraargh.

How come? I can't juice (Juice?)'kasipagan' out of my muscles to encode the e-mail for Mr. Red. Yes, we can personally converse with him for the second interview, but we still have a lot of things to accomplish without leaving the University premises. That's why I (intentionally obscured hidden agenda) suggested to my groupmates to compose a questionnaire to be sent online.

Wonderin' how we can present him a generous honorarium? I asked him if he drinks coffee. ^_^

------

Thaard.

Gaawd... A Noli Me Tangere Play Production? Golly! You'll be seeing a freakazoid Neil with white opaque paint on my patilla in a Filipiniana costume. And I'll act/sing theatrically Kapitan Tiago (no, of course not Crisostomo Ibarra! It should've been Pilosopo Tacio ^_^)

Eeeew!

------

Fourth

Communication theory case study will be submitted on Wednesday. But I bet it'll be moved on Wednesday next week. WE CLEARLY RECALL OUR TEACHER'S STATEMENT THAT OUR SUBMISSION WILL BE SIMULTANEOUS TO OUR MCOM EXAMINATION DAY WHICH WAS LATER MOVED UNTIL NEXT WEEK. [insert evil volume in maximum volume.]

But we haven't started a thing! Even my very industrious and never irresponsible partner Nancy forgot to remind me about it (I can't believe she's timatamad na rin --_--) I'm currently typing the questions for the survey. Hope she'll do it, too.

-----

Fifth

WAAAAAAAHH! Documentation for the photo exhibit! Aaargh!

As if our photo exhibit is successful. Thanks to Milenyo.

You know what? I am so frustrated with the exhibit. I know my entries are deserving to receive an award at least. But hey... the faculty has chosen some ill-focused and poorly-taken photos without any substance or gravity of any issue whatsoever. Really. I am crying now. Huhuhu.

Wipe. Laugh. Cry. Wipe uli. Then laugh.

(weeeoh weeoh weeoh)

---------

Sorry for the super late post. As in soooper uuuuber late. Tinamad lang talaga ako to type anything about my gigs for the past few weeks. Will be posting pictures later. Just wait.

Categories: Personalan, Pulitikahan

MEMOIRS OF A CEDY WANNABE

2006-09-24T19:38:00.000+08:00

PRECAUTION:

Citizens of the dawning age of senesence, please step aside. I'm pretty sure you will not relate with all the youngster crappiness of an arithmaticless wide-foreheaded pimple-farmer like me. Bwehehehe.

------

I was really really addicted to cartoons. Addicted so much, I nearly stowed away because of not allowing us to watch if we can't make 'siesta' (noon shortnaps). I was questioning all the mothers out there--

Why the hell force us to sleep during your adult unholy hours? We were born to be young and rabid and playfully magulo all the time. Don't pull us to share the same afternoon drowziness. You almost killed us!

Enough.

Before, TV networks used to showcase valuable and worth-watching animated series which eventually turned blockbuster hits in the late 1990s. They sky-rocketed Camille Prats and Tom Taus. Their cuteness and fame brought the insecurity out of me, thinking, "Why these kids had the opportunity to have passports and shoot abroad while me, the apparent white-skinned anemic PreComputer 2000 wizard Caloocan slum kid, tries to be contented to Star City and domestic Philippine Airlines flights?"

With their Tagalized series and ear-catchy Tagalog soundtracks, no wonder kids of those years can still recall every single (or at least a bigger percentage) lyric of the opening theme songs of those Japanese cartoons derived from fairytales, novels, and short stories from Europe and China.

And to test how I was proficient in Tagalog in my non-erectile yester years, I listed all the songs I can remember--from the time I can't distinguish the difference between volcanic ash and sand, until I realized masturbation doesn't help me improve mentally.

-----

I can't sort these chronologically. Hope you don't mind. ^_^

-----
Can you remember the titles of the animes with these OSTs? And oh, I intentionally obscured cue words to make them more puzzling.

Can you sing this?

1. Maglalakbay ako patungo sa kawalan
Upang hamunin 'tong pangarap sa buhay
At susuungin ko itong kadiliman
Makita ko lang ang liwanag ng katarungan...
Chenchedenchenden cheden (then the logo shows up)

Or this?

2. Habang nabubuhay, manalig ka
Lagi kang may kasama, may kaibigan ka
At kung ikaw ay nalulungkot
Kung ikaw ay natatakot
Wala kang gagawin kundi ako'y tawagin...

Ako si ____
Sa bawat oras nariyan,
Tutulong sa nangangailangan
Ako'y maaasahan sa lahat ng bagay....

Hmmm, this one:

3. Kami'y narito asahan niyong magtatanggol
Makikipaglaban para sa kapayapaan
(chenchererererenchen cherereren chererererereeurrnn--)
Ang lahat ng nilalang dito ay may karapatan
(Sa magandang bukas)
Kung mayroong gumugulo ay wag mag-alala
Kami ang dakilang tagapagtanggol niyo sa lahat ng oras
Handa kaming tumulong
Ang aming mga kapangyarihan alay sa karapatan...
Kami'y narito asahan niyong magtatanggol
Makikipaglaban para sa kapayapaan at kaayusan
Kami'y asahan niyo hanggang sa dulo ng mundo.

How about this one:

4. Waksin niyo na ang iyong luha
Pilitin tawanan ang problema
Habang bata ay magsaya
Makulay ang mundo basta't mangarap ka
Sa bawat pagsubok na makikita
Huwag mong hayaang madapa ka
Tibayan mo ang loob
Pagkatapos ng unos, ligaya ang dulot
Sadyang ganyan ang buhay, kailangang magsanay
Mapaglarong tadhana susubukin ang tibay
Kaya't kumilos ka't mag-isip, mag-aral
Magandang bukas, sa yo ay nakalaan...

Perhaps this one:

5. Sino nga ba siyang nakasuot pula
Hila ng mga usa
Puti ang balbas niya, siya'y mataba
Lahat ng bata'y naghihintay sa kanya
Namimigay siya ng mga regalo
Tuwing sasapit ang araw ng pasko
Mula sa araw na ito, maghihintay kami sa 'yo
Saan ka ba nagmumula?
Sana doon kami kasama mo
Nais naming makita kung pa'no ginagawa
Mga regalong pinamimigay mo
Nais namin...
Laruan! Libro! Damit na pamasko!
Uli--- (censored from the clip. Damn you, ABS)

I loved this one:

6. Ngunit hanggang kailan, hanggang kailan
Ito mananatiling panaginip
Sabik na ko, sabik na ko sa iyong
Yakap at halik...

And this one

7. Humayo ka kaibigang _____
Maglakbay kung saan mo man naisin
Anong (censored from the OBB)

----ehh...
Sige ___, Humayo ka
Humayo ka't maglakbay pawad
'Wag kalilimutan kami...

Or this very special 'tribute for moms':

8. Aking ina, mahal kong ina
Pagmamahal mo aking ina
Yakap mo sa akin, hinahanap ko
Init ng pag-ibig, kumot ng bunso
Sa kita ng pagkakahimbing
Yakap mo ang gigising.

Try this:

9. ____, ____,
Anakpawis ka sa kabundukan
____, ____,
Tahanan mo ang kalikasan
Luntiang parang, nasisikatan ng gintong araw
____, ____, tahanan mo ang kabundukan

____, ____, (Endless ___ with yoodle tune)

My sensualities aroused because of this:

10. Nakita ko ang larawan mo
At muling nagbalik sa akin ang lahat
Ang malambing na tingin at ako
Ang nagbibigay ng musika sa mundo
Sinabi mo ako ang himig ng iyong byulin
Mga __ at rosas na ginto
At ikaw ang yugto ng aking daigdig
Libutin natin ang mundo at bahaghari
Lalalala....
Rosas na marikit, bigay sa iyo mahal
Lalalala.... (unintelligible lyrics... err, damn you ABS)

I almost forgot about this:

11. Si ___ at ____
Kambal ng tadhana
Di susuko sa pagsubok...

----

All these shows were shown on ABS-CBN many centuries ago. Just testing if my neurons are not gravely affected by excessive...

THE HELL I KNOW ABOUT BEING STUPID

2006-09-23T23:23:00.000+08:00

PRELUDE:

It's been a long time since I last posted here. Had two weeks of senselessness, financial inadequacies, and oh... university games. University game 'announcing', I suppose. Err... 'Attention. Students not participating any track events, please clear the track!' Damn those students who don't understand English...

---------

WHY ESTUPIDORMITORIAN?

Why estupidong pinoy dormitorian (Stupid Filipino Dormitorian) ?

Hmm...

I dunno either. I am stupid.

Duh? Can't you read?

---------
Joke.

So much for being brash. It's just that each time I am asked where I currently reside in Indang, Cavite, I always reply with (in Tagalog),

"Nagdo-dorm po ako sa isang apartment sa Kaytapos"

Well, something like that. And the interviewer doesn't fail not to notice my vocabulary contradictions. Stupid, isn't it?

CRAP, AND MORE CRAP AHEAD

So I am the semi-appointed Editor in Chief of our 20-page community newsletter for Mr. Jun del Rosario. Then I have to write news articles and editorial columns. Then I'm the head for the Portraiture section of our photo exhibit on Wednesday. Then I have to compose then submit a letter of permission to Ma'am Diloy. Then I have to take pictures for Portrait, Landscape, Architecture, and Human Interest in Manila for the best shots. Then I have to settle an interview with Mr. Almar Red for our Management Information System case study about their prototype 'prepaid transactions' in De La Salle - Dasmariñas' library. Then I have to study for our three pending long exams in Communication Theories, DBMS, and Nihongo. Then I'm gonna portray 'Kapitan Tiago' for our 'Noli Me Tangere' play production on Friday. Then we have to draft our MIS case study on Friday. Then I have to consolidate and encode my resources for our baby thesis in Communication theories. Then and then and all over again I'm gonna faint already.

And I have not started yet.

Jeez, blame it to the Intramurals week where I became the 2-day most popular male for having the (ehem... Storm signal alert) most splendid sports announcer voice/diction in the University. Brrr. (Ooops... no requests of podcasting. I know I'll make it worse ^_^.)

Cramming is the best thing we could do with all the laziness that overloaded our muscles for the past few weeks. University games is the opportunity to shine... we had no classes for a week. So why toil for our academe if everybody seems not to care to touch their pens during these days? To make everybody happy, no one should kill our enjoyment.

Else, I'll kill.

--------

I'm very very sorry if I can't digress my intelligent juices to compose essays about politics and socio-cultural issues. I just can't find my inspiration to do such, now that I'm losing my appetite on my Journalism course... I miss the days where student politicians debate with me.

IN THE BEGINNING, THERE WAS ENCANTADIA

2006-09-14T14:09:00.000+08:00

AWW!

I was a Hobbit raised in a family of 6 who used to love Mexican telenovelas. My Tita Kokak--err--Norlyn's the culprit. Thalia's the real proponent of the Filipinos' Mexican madness. Marimar killed Mula Sa Puso out of me. Channel 9 became the no. 1 station in the country. Then I repeated playing Andrew E’s “Humanap Ka ng Panget” song on my WMP11. Ugliness is beauty of Yo Soy Betty La Fea. Then eventually, I found myself studying Spanish instead of the Periodic Table of Elements.

But that was history.

I'm through with the bulging cleavages of the female cast of these telenovelas. I started to be disgusted to the excessive torrid kissing of the opposite sexes. Haciendas, horses, third parties, bastards are off too 'pocket booky'. I'm not enticed by the typical sensuality of these Mexican series.

Then my mom bought Tikoy.

-----------
OH BABY BABY BABY... MY BABY BABY

I heartfully screamed "OMFG--I thought Filipinos are the only good-looking Asians in the world?". F4's the suspect. Yi Xun (Lavender) and Xu Xiao Tian (Shan Cai - Meteor Garden) kicked Kristine Hermosa out of her 'promises'. I was also wrong to presume that 555 is only for canned sardines. Now there's a boyband. Again, I found myself studying Chinese rather than the Philippine Constitution.

I though it's history. But that was just the beginning.

All good quality Taiwanese dramas are Anime/comic book-based. If you watch any original dramas from their creative juices, you'll be yawning big time. Acting is overrated. Stories are hyped. And oh, I only had glanced a significantly few good looking Taiwanese since time immemorial.

And then I cooked Kimchi.

-----------
UNTI-UNTING MARARATING...

OMFG—I again interjected, “What the f—Now there are three most good-looking Homo sapiens in Asia!!!”

F--- I was so flabbergasted when I finally stumbled on Autumn Fairytale on GMA. Jesus Christ, our Lord--- why are Koreans so f---liciously gorgeous? It turns out that the Japanese are the ugliest (only accessorized by their wealth, Anime fashion et al). Korean stories are tragic. Their actors are hunkies. Their actresses are goddesses. Their acting is Hollywood quality. Song Hye-Gyo is gorgeous. Song Hye-Gyo is gorgeous. Song Hye-Gyo is gorgeous. Did I say Song Hye-Gyo is gorgeous?

And the story keeps going and going, until I found myself reading and speaking in Korean rather than my usual English, Tagalog, and Bisaya twang.

For years, I half-heartedly appreciated the efforts of our local drama producers to create masterpieces similar to those of what I’ve mentioned. You know, when I hear April Boy sing “Esperanza”, urgh… I turned nuts. I formerly loathe watching Kapamilya shows because of some ‘important reason’. I didn’t even have the effort to crave for Pangako sa Yo though it was phenomenally exceptional across the globe (because I detest ABS before). I thought Filipinos are currently dormant with the foreign waves attacking our republic seashores… from Latin American, to Taiwanese, to Korean…

Then I ate ‘adobo’...

----------

EEUWWWEH! EEEUWWWEH! HE-HEY!

Seeing Encantadia gave me the hopes of Philippine primetime goodness. I was intrapersonally crying with 'cheers' (as in cheers) for our national pride. With the story so elaborately narrated, with the CG (Computer-Generated) graphics so intricately designed, with their setting so sophisticatedly toiled by Filipino artisans, no wonder Encantadia (I mean the first Encantadia sequel) will be marked as the best Philippine drama ever produced in the Philippines...

I am an Encantadik. I heart Encantadia and I will always be their no. 1 fan.

And then I received this from the headwriter of Encantadia:

Because of this:

So I then replied with this:

Ang galing, no?

DISEASE

2006-09-10T20:02:00.000+08:00

Outline for my CD-Burning sideline in school. Crap, we're losing bucks this month...

I am diseased.

I woke up this morning around 10 pm with my tummy already in its lowest gastric juice's pH level, and a super fresh breath (haaah...). I always miss my breakfast. Gives me the guilt since my mom always wake in the morning just to prepare it for us. I faced our 5-foot mirror just to check if another Bulbasaur pops out of my face for the 1243rd time. (To think that I count all the pimples on my face). I curled my head sidewards and notice a bulge on my right neck. I felt it with my fingers. It moves--and it hurts, I told myself.

I sat on the sofa already pestered with holes and wondered...

What happened to me for the past few weeks?

ALZHEIMER'S

I always ponder about my brain's incapacities to remember in verbatim details the things that transpired. Whenever I try to sit down and hasten my delta waves, I end up eating Capuccino a la Brian Bernardo (4 parts Milo powder, 1/2 part water... 'papak' as we call it). I can't remember anything else unimportant but the worst things.

Skipping my blog routine is difficult for me. I seldom take notes of what I should post. I'm used to type everything on-the-spot that's why each time I puke every comic balloon that appeared beside other people's heads, I see tapeworms. I sometimes ask myself--is it because of my super-late sleeping hours? Or masturbation? Or the contraindications of Extra Joss? Very very difficult for me.

You've been reading tapeworms, I guess.

Ching!
------------
RESPIRATORY INFECTION

Yesterday, I was diagnosed with inflamed lymph nodes on my neck. Weak lungs, it implies as the doctor inserted his thermometer under my armpit. He said, if my lymph nodes around my neck bulges, I have some infection in my lungs. I don't know what kind of infection the doctor is understating, but the way my doctor looks at my mom I sense something expensive. Ching.

I never smoke but my nose regularly swims on daily kilogram dosage of silt and particulates in the air. Now, my stomach is over-populated with two 800 mg of Cotrimoxazole (antibacterial) caplet, three Diclofenac Sodium (anti inflammatory) tab, one Sodium Ascorbate (Vitamin C) capsule, and Thumbelina (well... she's delicious, I just can't help it but swallow her).

--------------
AN-AN

I was horrendously suffering with itching on my arms.

I thought my mom's Skin White soap is effective to whiten my elbow. Definitely it's not. It's an-an pala.

F*ck. For the very first time in my life I have an-an. Brrgh. Gross. I've never been unhygienic in my entire freakin' life. It's a very small patch, but it really pissed me off. Luckily I found a clove of garlic in the kitchen. I squished the fungi into dimwits. Now, they're history.

-------------

WEREWOLF SYNDROME

I'm always teased by my high school classmates. Aside from having a very wide forehead (they just chant "Johnson Wax yata yan..." as if my forehead is shining shimmering splendid), they always agitate the words 'veterinary', 'Simba', 'Dracula' among others. That's because of my 'sungki'.

I have an abnormally-grown left canine tooth that pissed my public pronunciations regularly. My lips are always hooked on to it that gives me greater tendencies to stutter and mispronounce lip syllabications. Not only that it gave me the difficulty to vocally express eloquently, but I always have the tension of having these people looking at my 'sungki'. I chew my words because my lips are hooked on my sungki. We never prioritized having our monthly remittances be spent on tooth braces.

But my mom found someone...

You know the non-licensed false teeth molders featured in Imbestigador last month? We have one here in our subdivision and luckily 'she' and my mom are in good terms. I know she's unlicensed for not directly answering my mom's inquiry, but her good intention to help other people with the quality of false teeth, braces, and retainers she makes in a very affordable price is commendably amenable (amen! whohoo!). But I'm worrying about her rival non-licensed, as well as licensed, dentists in our subdivision since she has the most clients of all.

She's a licensed dental technician alrighty. She was obligated to renew it (her license when she wasn't married yet need to be re-registered again) and show us her certification black-and-white that's why for 2 days, I'm not eating stainless steel yet.

See? I told you... people are intimidated to me. Intimidation is the best policy. I should've not demostrated to her how califragilistically skeptic I am in terms of 'aura'.

Honestly, I'm not sure...

Do semi-braces worth 2000 pesos each?

Plus, I was not in a cozy, alcohol-scented, airconditioned atmosphere when 'she' plunged the wet ceramic mold on my teeth. I smell acrylic paint, tilapia, and Coca-cola. Thinking of hygiene, I think she fails it. But the results that manifested on her happy customers makes me think twice.

Ha. Hopefully my mom has a very good decision... now that we are having problems with her bouncing (boink-boink) cheques. She should've disclosed it to us before. Now, I'm very eager to advertise my 40-peso worth CD-Burning business here.

--------------------

I've had a lot of happy customers for my personalized CD covered outputs with hard-to-download music. Thank you Lord for teaching me how to self-orient Photoshop and hacking et al.

MY ASIATIC BLOG NOW ON BETA MODE - I MEAN UNDER CONSTRUCTION

2006-09-08T20:59:00.000+08:00

Yep guys, I officially declare my blog 'My Asiatic Blog' not being asiatic unlike before I used to since its previous dreck Friendster version.

In Layman's term, my blog is UNDER CONSTRUCTION. Not Blogger Beta, but UNDER CONSTRUCTION.

I am currently drawing (and painting) the images to be used for the sidebars, especially the header. A some-kind-of-a rennovation, I suppose since I'll be using the same motif--colors, etc.

Like what I've posted before, it'll be "ESTUPIDORMITORIAN". More apt. More fitted to my present personality. Dormitorian living in an apartment. Screech all over.

----------

Oh, I'm just having some CD Burning here (worth 40 pesos hehehehe, you want?) so just wait for my comic strip.

I promise--I'll post a longitudinal (vertical) comic strip every Friday. Hope you enjoy it.

Later!

HYGIENE

2006-09-05T01:54:00.000+08:00

1st day. Friday, September 1. 4 PM, Semi Jeepney terminal, Indang Town Plaza

One look and I knew iba na
Malagkit dumikit ang tingin ng mata
One smile, iba na'ng ibig sabihin
'Di na friends ang tingin n'ya sa kin.

Everyday parating we're together
Every week palaging may sleep over
Ang tawag niya sa mommy ko ay tita
Bakit ba di pa n'on nakita

Until out of the blue
Ang feeling's so true
Bigla na lang sinabi sa 'kin that...

This guy's in love with you, pare
This guy's in love with you, pare
This guy's in love with you, pare
Bading na bading sa-----

Spoot!

You asshole $%#%!!!

Sori po...

---------------

2nd day. Monday, September 4. 5 pm. Waltermart Dasmariñas. Emilio Aguinaldo Highway.

Sa talahiban ika'y lumitaw
Sumama ang hangin ako'y napailing
Tao nga ba o kabayong mahiwaga
Napapansin ko siya
na may milagrong ginagawa
Mang-aagaw siya ng lakas
Ingat ka kapag nakilala ka

Kahit na tinatawanan
Marami yatang pumapatol diyan
'Pag meron s'yang napagtitripan
Bibigyan niya ng limandaan
Baklang sagad sa pangit
Ang kagandaha'y pinipilit
Sa likod ng mukhang mama
Pag humarap ay mam-----

Spoot!

Arrrgh. (Stares provocatively)

Sori po.

------------------

How iritating it is to imagine how uncivilized most of our commuters on the roads of urban biodiversity. Pee here, throw rubbish there, spit everywhere... even on my shoes!

I quoted to my classmates in our Logic subject:

You can kiss the grounds of Iceland and Singapore.

The Philippines?

Kiss your arse instead.

Sheesh. To think that I am actually singing at those times. Chills all over. Tagatagaktaktakking are my teeth.

----------
How strict is the implementation/orientation of this so-called 'republic public hygiene' in our country? How educated are the people to have their filthy excretions be disposed redundantly properly?

Education is dreck. Miseducation is bliss. Go figure.

Shouldn't I throw stones at these people doing such unearthly habit?

I think I should throw it to everyone.
The government is intently depreciating our quality education. The government is poorly promulgating education. We are tolerating our government's scallawagging. We are teaching ourselves how to scallawag like the government. We are teaching the youngsters to be scallawags like us. Syllogistically we all deserve rocks in our throats.

So migrate na ko nyan sa Canada?

Ha. Go figure.

Location: Inside my room where piglet snores are eminent.
Categories: Pulitikahan

BLANC

2006-09-03T02:00:00.000+08:00

This is what I do when I'm bored of/having no time or money for blogging. A Photoshopped rushed-out drawing of evening solitude.

This is me two weeks ago.

I can't think of anything to post except the rivalry between a gay and another gay in our apartment and the addition of a gal, a gay, and a guy(?)-being-rivalled-by-two-gays to our apartment.

Brrr...

------------------

Dad called us a while ago to inform that Western Union is currently swallowing my dad's remittance for this month. And mom hasn't told him yet the real score of our 'insufficient
funds' or he'll scold my mom again. Sigh. Mom is just too kind...

Thank God we have money now. Thank God I have something to spend for the following weeks. Thank God.

Location: in a room where all the fantasms of a retard co-exist
Category: Personalan

CHARITABLE INSTITUTION

2006-08-28T15:45:00.000+08:00

PRELUDE

JUST READ one of my classmate's text message about a couple having tuyo (super duper to the power of cup size of ruffa mae quinto salty dried fish) as their only viand for dinner.

Mrs: Ayan sa mesa. Mamili ka na lang [(viand's) on the table. just choose.]

Mr: Amp**** naman--eh tuyo lang naman andito, ah. Ano'ng pagpipilian? [wtf--it's just a guppy. Do I need to choose between a guppy and its ghost?]

Mrs: Hmp. Honey, ano'ng gusto mo--MEAL OR NO MEAL?? (Just put an allegory of Kris Aquino's accent in Deal or No Deal)

Seizures.

I don't know if the allegory or the pretentiously hideous-looking Kris Aquino that made this text message funny.

---------------------

SO-CALLED CHARITY

DURING OUR nostalgic highschool years, whenever the administration of our beloved Philippine Christian University Science High School - Dasmariñas (so much for bragging the prolonged name) thinks of a new capitalistic scheme of looting hundreds of bucks from us rich (ching!) students, we the katroopa-troops of Bibbo Hotbabes (kasali ako diyan) in cooperation with the Tropang ANiMé (ako rin kasali dito) and the (normal people dwell in this circle so I don't belong here) predominantly dominating Pipz...

(notice that I really made sure you guys/readers/eavesdroppers/stalkers can NOT relate to what I was blabbing)

... made semi-yadda-yadda protests just to make sure our daily hundred peso allowance will not be wasted for Noodles, canned goods, sugar, coffee, Milo packs, gold-ticket-worth raffle tickets, more gold-ticket-worth raffle tickets, etc.

We simply agitate: "Gastos lang 'yan!" for several hundreds of times inside various classes.

No wonder we've been tagged by the faculty of PCU-High as the 'most subversive and aggressive batch of all' in addition to the 'only batch that has graduated with complete top 10 multi-awarded honored students (Storm signal no. 4 alert) . We argued with our Chemistry/Research teachers, lambaste pf's, it is refers, and botter(butter)-beyter(batter)'s of our THE and MAPE wannabes, and the like. We've kicked out non-Bar passer teachers, disclosed teacher chismax detencies, and avoided lascivious reputations given to our previous and next batches who've had one plus of their alumni to have called storks in their imaginary chimneys. To think that they've finally said milk is very expensive.

We're the most practical of all. We spend only a few bucks for winning pieces, group dynamics and contests, and interschool competitions.

But as backfired by the real 'rich brattinellas' of our campus, practicality means poverty.

...

Who cares? As long as we're not stupid.

------------------

I just have this usual introversial outputs; more of orienting/self-orienting that being affective. Not only that I tend to seldomly disclose information about myself, my lovelife, and the rest of myself to people technically surrounding me (lucky to have you blog readers because I have no plans of eyeballing ^_^ as if you'd want to), but with my 'resources' as well.

We've been taught by our parents to be ultimately exclusive when it comes to personal belongings. As long as it is personal, do not share it. As long as it will not be adequate for the most, mind not showing it off to people. It had a differing impact. I've become madamot. Not selfish. Just madamot. Selfishness is vague. A different story.

I reiterated to my recent close friends/classmates not to wonder too much about my being too exclusive with my personal stuff. Yes, I also share some of my perks and tools but with the food that would only fit me, the clothes that would only apt to me, the school supplies that should not lack for me... I tend to close my cabinet.

Writing about being madamot is not worth to be proud of.

I was not madamot before. Being too compassionate to others is what I've inherited from my mommy. But I'm through with it after all these abominable (haha) experiences for being too 'kind'.

I tend to spend more.

I told my previous boardmates/pubmates that they will not ever ever see my groceries inside our kitchen cabinets anymore after all those months that they have consumed 90 percent of what were supposed to be mine. They turned aloof to me. Nevertheless, it's fine with me. Now they know whom they were messing up with.

I always lose my tech/pinpoint pens, pencils, cd-rs, cd-rws, diskettes, flashdisks, erasers, in short office supplies because they know I have plenty of those. Now they have to think twice before they approach me with cute cat's eyes.

A monster is what I have become.

-----------------

Now, I have no adequate allowance for this week.

My mom has been too kind to our needy neighbors.

Believe it or not, she didn't tell us that she has lent [insert big amount here] pesos to some of our neighbors because of some very important use, according to my apparently problematic mom.

I know the philosophy of being mutually equitable to them. Whenever we need something from them, because of this utang-na-loob coming from our 'financial heritage', they will be wholeheartedly forced to render us back the services we need--directly proportional to what we've offered.

I don't want to sound so egoistically avaricious, but our monthly salary/remittances from our dad working abroad is supposed to be spent for our 'personal needs'. Now because of 'them', whose personal needs are at stake?

I was just so saddened by the news that we've suddenly lost something because of the previous fact that we still have the money to spend for the remaining weeks for this month. Now, we're crawling for alms. Alms for adobong manok, sinigang, tinola, nilagang baka in our weekly menu. (gormandizers...)

I've just sounded so practically practical. I've even mouthed words to my mom because of not telling it to us. Now, our broadband connection is temporarily disconnected. Now we are unsure if our neighbors still have the conscience to pay my mom back.

~~Today, our neighbor promised for the nth time that she'll pay her debts. My mom will visit me here in Indang. Hope I'll feel more comfortable tonight.~~

Ugh. I'm going back to Dasma and kill some asshole. Joke.

I dunno what I'm going to do next...

Hope I could blog more. I just have to cut my daily expenditures. Eerrgh.

Location: in a computer center beside an eatery where p's and d's meet, Indang, Cavite
Categories: Personalan

UN-FRIENDSTER - UPDATED

2006-08-20T18:50:00.000+08:00

I still am thinking about my exposure trip post, so I just updated this one after being calmed by Nissin Cup noodles and ~~masturbation~~ watching "It Started with a Kiss" on YouTube. ^_^ Hehehe.

Well, out of the blue, I've deleted a significant number of so-called 'friends' in my Friendster account. As if I have a lot of these so-called 'friends' in my account where invitations made out of the blue, too. Retribution, I guess ^_^.

Just to make it clear, for those who've added me in their list (especially those who have known me personally), just check your account if my name is not in your list anymore. That explains unwell.

If you want to add me, search my whole name in Friendster. That is, if I have the freakin' normal mind to do such. Just kidding myself.

I'm so happy that, even though ironic to its advocacy of socializing online, Friendster gave me the opportunity not to make friends with so-called friends for good. So much for bothering.

Ta ta!

-------------

What does Friendster basically do?

Correct me if I'm wrong, intrapersonal communication.

1. It forces non-intelligible internet users to create a Yahoo account (most Friendsters use Yahoo, FYI) and never opens inboxes for life. Thank you for teaching them how to click a button on a website.

2. It basically acts as an online version of lost-and-found relatives, classmates, childhood friends, friends, enemies, parents, boyfriends, girlfriends, gay/tomboyfriends, aliens, wannabe celebrities, etc.

3. For good-looking people--a lot will click your pics. For non-good-looking people--you use pics of other people/celebrity/animal etc. You'll be forced to paste your best photo. If not, you just post a pixelated pic so blemishes on your face will not be noticed.

4. Give-and-take Relationship. It forces Friendster users to create a testimonial so that your addressee will make a testimonial for you.

5. Lazy testimonials include copy-pasted quotes, text-based images, web-generated animated icons/images/

6. It will bombard you with zillions of senseless bulletin board posts which honestly are unreadable and unnoticeable. Worse, content will include Friendster will so-called shut their shitted website so need to chain this post whatever.

7. Friendster Blogs are pathetically stupid. Friendster bloggers are pathetically stupid, too. Pop-ups and ads everywhere, and no one reads it except your friends on your list. So much for the free blog which other blog hosts offer with full customization attached.

8. It will not make you laugh when the Joke for the Day popup blocks your screen.

9. It'll spam your mail inbox as long as notification to mail is currently activated. That is, if you know how to use your email account.

10. Friendstermaniacs spend more or less 3 hours gazing at their own profile without doing anything. Customization is dreck.

11. Inggitan galore. Just for the sake of bragging you being the friendliest Friendster, you click on someone else's profile-friendlist then add friends if you find their pic good-looking or familiar to you regardless of that so-called 'friends' familiarity of you. Thus, 5 hundred plus friends.

12. You'll be pissed of if no one viewed your profile, made a testimonial for you in 48 years, etc while the person renting beside you is busy adding/deleting testimonials or confirming friend addition.

13. You'll be frustrated if you haven't logged in to your friendster account.

14. If you're doing a project, you'll open your Friendster account first before you start your research. Most of the time, 70 percent or more of your online usage will be wasted in Friendster.

15. You'll be stupefied with stupid color combinations, icons, YouTube videos etc. as part of your non-creativity. And somehow you'll be satisfied while other people are spitting at your profile looks' ugliness and millions of downloadtime-swallowing embedded graphics. Screw them.

16. You'll make a daily/weekly budget for Friendster.

17. You'll make friends by asking other people's email. After that, nothing else unless you are of the same school/organization/company, etc

18. You'll search for Friendster accounts of Starstruck finalists/celebrities etc. and confused with the multiplicity of their profiles. And then you'll not even bother clicking any of them. Otherwise, you click all of then and ask them to add you. Addict.

19. You'll be curious if a Pinoyster or an adversarian counterpart, Enemyster, exists.

20. You'll be curious with other linking sites such as hi5, multiply, myspace, et al. and create more and more accounts.

21. You'll be pissed off after reading this.

Categories: Tsismisan

PAGTATANTO

2006-08-18T17:54:00.000+08:00

Another Tagalog term I've just learned.

I'm not used to 'recall my earlier post', yet there's one thing that I've just realized after these tremendously decapitating weeks of overspending and backstabbing.

Some Average-Joe-by-Y-Not-first-liner girl of the blogosphere claims that I have 'anterograde amnesia'. I realized---I really have.

All thanks to Extra Joss. This energizer has burped my useful neurons into shammies clinically. Now, I am having problems with my temporal lobe...

Please join my advocacy. SAY NO TO EXTRA JOSS.

I just love it when female bloggers visit me. *chuckles *wink *wink. Burp. Love it when they place my name within their posts while I'm drinking my favorite mango Juice.

Some, well, err-- just can't stop boggling my mind.

I felt so inadequate a few hours after I finished typing my previous article for Wednesday.

I intentionally rented a PC in a computer center nearest to an eatery where CvSU student drunkards usually meet-and-greet-and-*toot.

I recently am trying to keep myself hidden behind the clouds--thus, the Wednesday post.

I was being convinced by *someone to cooperate with them and oblige the position as the CEGP coordinator of Cavite. But after long weeks of obscurity, I was still found by this *someone inside the canteen while I was blabbing about the mysteries of social climbing and ukay-ukay get-up identification.

"I'll meet you at your boarding house..."

I dumbfoundedly replied, "Not sure if I'll come. Might be late..."

He persists. "I'll make it around 7 pm..."

I nodded as if I was not thinking religiously. Luckily I didn't give him a hint that our classes in Speech Communication would have a super short orientation for the Thursday GMA7 exposure trip.

Then to add my diversionary scheme, I expensively surfed/blogged for 4 hours straight just to make sure *he will not catch me meddling inside our ghost-infested apartment.

It's dark already. I was so glad to pay a hundred pesos on the counter.

Since our apartment is a 1-km walking-distance area from the internet center, I walked along the roadsides towards our house, ensuring that *he would not took notice of my evening existence in Indang.

But *he has a keen eye...

Some brusque long-haired man 10 meters away from me loudly jumped out of the jeep without thinking he might kill himself. It was dark, then, but his stance is very familiar.

It's *someone.

I had no choice... I had to talk to him--for the second freakin' time.

OMFG... I forgot the words I supposed to type.

Sorry... my short term memory loss is tingling me...

"Hindi ko po kaya. Hindi po talaga..." is all I can remember after taking us 2 hours of cyclical dialectical communication.

Will tell you about our Exposure Trip in GMA7 where we audienced SiS Thursday Live telecast and Imelda Papin Episode, and Debate With Mare and Pare soon after I put my pea-sized brain back to my medulla oblongata.

----------------------

I'm not being Asiatic anymore. I want to change my header. Estupidormitarian.

I want to change my URL. es2pido.blogspot.com.

I'll inform you as soon as I have finished my customization.

NOTE: I'm just changing the header and the url. Only the header, not the whole blog. I have no extra time to do an overhaul. ^_^

Categories: Personalan

FIELD TRIP

2006-08-16T17:51:00.000+08:00

What a berserker.

One of our boarders interjected out-of-the-blue that some text message he received which reads that their family will go to Enchanted Kingdom (a fabulousy popular theme park in the Philippines) pisses him off totally. Holy cow. If I'm not his boarder, I would've thrown a thousand pillows in front of him for boasting it. That was freakin' intentional.

I haven't been there. Really.

We promised to ourselves ever since Dad last came here in the Philippines that we must be rejoined altogether (as in complete) before we purchase the
effing (thanks juice for the term ^_^) tickets.

Luckily, Dad usually hibernates here for about 4 days and then leaves.

What a pity.

I refused going to Enchanted Kingdom even if it's in the package of our previous fieldtrips way back elementary years. Until now, I'm declining free ticket offers. That's how Enchanted Kingdom has become a very great deal to us Bernardos.

Oh yes, will be having our field trip to GMA7. Golly! Who shall be the stars for the live telecast of SiS? And, am I going to piss Mareng Winnie again by opening our graduation heckling issue?

Need to prepare for the snacks on the bus.

Ako ang nagsaing, iba ang kakain...

NO!!!~ Am no gonna buy Pringles/Spuds/Nova/Chippy/Coke/Cheez Curls/Potato Chips just to be gormandized by my classmates inside the bus. I regret the days my mom has bought lots of stuff in my bag pack.

Especially my precious 80 peso-worth Pringles which I crave so much.

I'm so selfish.

And oh, gone are the days where I used to make baon plastic bags every distant bus trip I engage to. Hahaha. So much for the puke-per-minute record in our family. What a scallawag I am.

Categories: Personalan, Tsismisan

BS MARKETING major in Mass Reproduction

2006-08-13T02:03:00.000+08:00

PRELUDE

I'm starting to get my anger management sessions seriously for a few weeks before I burst Mt. Mayon's pyroplastic flow out of my socially-intelligent blabbermouth in front of him/her.

I hate people who seemed to brag about their being so uneducated and uncivilized. And they are even proud of their brashness. I mean, there's a room for tactless jabbering and hearsay mass production outside the university premises but this one who actually pre-emptly castigates me with his so-called 'i know everything about him because he's our neighbor' is completely unforgiving! And he does that to my classmates and my closest peers.

What's his/her problem?

I've never EVER bothered him/her or his/her family since the day I landed barefoot on the mudskipper-thrived concrete roads of Dasmariñas. But why the hell is he bragging about he knows everything about me? And even stabs me hardly at the back? Is this the way he/she used to to gain more friends?

Why does he bother storytelling about me eventhough he doesn't know me or has never ever bothered me at all?

I've never imagined that there are such outlandish people like him/her who has efforts to make news about me. I'm starting to lose my self-respect.

If he/she continues to do such, he/she will regret it. He/she will regret he enrolled his/her name on the Mass Communication master list of students here in Cavite State University.

But for the meantime, I'll act myself out professionally civilized and just let him fill my angst up to its highest level and wait for the right time before I burst it out. That would be sweet and spicy.

---------

HAIR COLOR INFLUENCE

I've noticed it ever since.

Cavite State University (CvSU) has yet not printed out the real University code (of which has never been promulgated nor consulted correspondingly to the students and instead bypassed it for their own capitalistic goodness) containing the you-know-what-to-do inside the campus. And I've never ever imagined I've been this influential with the help of this.

Yeah yeah. I'm an introvert and of course not the richest person in CvSU (most of the students are members of the suburban poor, yet students with cars drammatically up surged in population). BUT (with an overrated speech communication professor accent) should it influence, too, how I dress myself up and influence all our male students in our university? I mean 'male', not the 'semale'.

--------------

I have noticed my schoolmates who have started dying their hair after I dyed mine.

Two years ago, I've blemished my hair with light-hued highlights. I entered the university with no guards chasing me but students noticeably staring at me.

Three days after, I saw one of the Job Experience program students had his hair with the gray one--to think he's my classmate. That day on, ten more were noticeably bragging their hair in the central batibot are of our university. I'm the self-proclaimed pioneer of the hair highlighting society in CvSU.

That doesn't stop me from influencing.

I've made anime art (*ehem) printed on a4 photopaper posted on the Freedom Wall of ours. That was honestly the first time in the University to (*boastfulness beware) be flabbergasted with a super Anime art printed on photopaper and pasted to be seen publicly (*so yabang naman me). That was the first time our University had seen a student used Photoshop CS for a happy birthday post.

After a week, some scumbag drew freckles on my art and then another dumbass drew a badly-sketched anime version of his girlfriend's face. More days have passed and more drawings (mostly badly-made--i'm so mean ^_^) were stapled/glued/gawgawed/taped.

Then the anime enthusiasm just spreadt in the whole campus instantly.

Nope, there's more.

I was not satisfied with my hairstyle since I'm not used to apply hair gel/wax/polish on it. One time, I bought hair wax. I styled my hair ala punkista anime look. Cite the lead singer of Gorillaz. The next day, the trasher-trying-hards of CvSU did the same to theirs. Hahaha.

There's still more!

I keep on lambasting our school uniform for its uncomfortable texture and thickness. It's so hard to iron and the logo looks like a kulangot (nose dirt). A De La Salle uniform copycat. I started wearing the ordinary white polo shirt with a badge-looking ID holder. Guards seemed to tolerate. That was a Friday.

The next week, the number of students wearing the same uniform as mine is multiplied times 30.

I'm not done yet.

I was not satisfied with my hair color. Hair higlighting is cheesy, and I thought it looked cheap because it's just two hundred pesos. And no boy has ever dared to dye their hair thoroughly inside the university with bright colors.

I insisted with a 'very light golden sand' (which has gradually faded now, see my pic below) shade and wrapped myself with a Cloud Strife looking Bench Claydoh and Finesse hairspray-held hair style (I surely know no one uses Bench Claydoh in Cavite State University except me--haha.) with the ordinary PCU white uniform.

Two weeks after, I noticed most of my Psychology classmates to have dyed their hair, too. But not with the same shade as mine. And oh, with the same hair style but using a cheaper hair cream or something. Ha, yabang ko talaga.

Then the number increases. And so on and so forth.

God, I never imagined to be so influential.

Categories: Eskwelahan

GASTUSAN GALORE ver.2

2006-08-10T08:40:00.000+08:00

Hmmm... I've spent more or less 500 pesos for the 3r plus index print photo developing. And now, my groupmates have to repeat some of our silhouette shots just because of underexposed pics? Arrrrgh.

Anyways, here are some my entries for my Intro to Photography mid term requirement...

Habulin mo 'ko... habulin mo ko...

Nope, not this one.

"Burara"
(Rule of Thirds)

"... ka(l/m)a(t/y)a(y)an?"
(Panning)

"P6.25"
(Panning)

Ovulation
(Silhouette)

Categories: Eskwelahan

EAST WAVE PREOCCUPATION

2006-08-06T01:58:00.000+08:00

I am a Koreanovela aficionado, and whenever I bounce upon rivaling stations which seems to barrage certain melodramas as the (redundancy aside) most super-duper to the googolflexth power popular in the whole universe, I don't bother. Unless the stars are gooeyliciously makalaglag-brief.

That's why I was hooked to Meteor Garden 1.

It's not that I really liked Xu Xiao Tian (Barbie XU). I was just so flabbergasted to see good-looking Chinese people in a series which of the same type have been proclaimed with overrated oriental fashion similar to formerly telecasted wuxia series every Sunday mornings in ABS-CBN (still recall? ^_^). Can't keep myself off wondering how Dao Ming Si is too handsome to be a Taiwanese. That caused me to return home faster that the speeding TGV train without waiting for our school bus to escort us to our leather couches. Curiosity glued me to anticipation.

But for a while, the Korean wave started to flush us out of our imaginary lasciviousness to Chinese babes of Lavender and A Promise of Love at the Dolphin Bay.

Song Hye-Gyo came. I thought I was ready to die.

Kaeul Yeongga (Autumn Fairytale) aka Endless Love 1 became popular mainly because their stars are terrificly damn goodlooking. Face it. It's not just the dramatic plot and acting of young counterparts of Jenny and Johnny who forced your lustful minds to watch the series. It's either you are dumbfounded staring at Jenny's (Song Hye-Gyo) angelic face or you are stripping Song Seung-Heon and Won Bin from their suits to their shoes. Haha.

And then people eventually patronized good East Asian quality acting and storytelling. Korean dramas are world-class. Admit it. Even the Chinese and the Taiwanese can't stand blaming themselves to get their overacting and slapsticks minisculed by adulterated yet laugh-worthy corn goodness of Korean melodramas.

From Endless Love 1, 2, and 3, Miss Mermaid (Irene), Stairway to Heaven, Full House, Lovers in Paris, My Name is Kim Sam Soon, and My Girl to name a few, zillions are spamming our republic television.

Just look at the transition of the plots. From too dramatic and tearjerking to ass tingling and scatterbrain pouncing ones.

There have been too many Korean melodrama titles emerging in ABS-CBN, GMA7, and some small players. So many, I don't know if Filipino dramatists would even have the effort or fingernail movement to squeeze their creative intelligible juices from their cerebrums and transform them audiovisually.

We are missing Pangako Sa 'Yo. We are missing Encantadia 1 (don't mind the succeeding sequels Etheria and Pag-ibig hanggang Wakas because they are simply garbage--wasted Gozon's time and Starstruck hotness).

We are missing Filipino craft to teledramas. We are pretentiously driven to absorbing douchebags like Darna, Marina, Majika, Captain Barbell, I Love NY, et al.

Categories: Tsismisan

DON'T CALL ME. I CALL MYSELF

2006-08-04T19:18:00.000+08:00

PREFACE

Ate My, currently the Gazette's Managing Editor chanced to approach me inside the (semi) Student Union Building and asked for assistance about their Photoshop installation...

Ate My: Neil, do you still have an Adobe Photoshop installer (cd)?

Neil: Apparently, I haven't burned one. I think I have already saved all the needed installation files in one of the drives (of The Gazette PC).

Ate My: Oh, so we have in our (pertaining to The Gazette, Ate My, and me)...

Neil: (stares blankly at Ate My)

Ate My:... uhmm... in "our" (pertaining to The Gazette and Ate My) PC, right?

Neil: Yes, Ate My.

Ate My: Oh ok. Thanks... (leaves)

Finally...

------------------

The so-called super-duper impudently irresponsible ex-Gazette staffer was starting to read religiously the book aka the very second item he bought after his first salary from Mr. Gil Portes (you know, the you-don't-know director behind Alessandra de Rossi monstrous movies like Mga Munting Tinig, Homecoming--bet you haven't watched this ^_^) when he pondered psychologically-inclined terms like egoist, egotist, altruist... I don't want to define these words since they waste too much space in this post... OMG, did I just waste words by reminding you I'm wasting my post space because of defining these...

Arrgh. Let's continue.

They simply denote self-centeredness and selflessness. But then what took notice is the word that was given the longest and the most heart-piercing elaboration by that Pocket Book published Word Power Made Easy (just realized Pocket Book is a proper noun for a popular publishing company).

Introvert.

I have been too exclusive to my peers. Maybe you are aware (cite Intimidation is the Best Policy) that people are intimidated to me. My speech and my eyeglasses speak too loud--they are, too, overwhelmed by my solitary locomotion. I tend to be with my classmates whom I've been close to since highschool graduation melted down academic pretentiousness. But honestly, I love to work by myself. I do things my way, without further assistance from my friends. Though they are sincerely friendly to me, I can't help but to force my ego to socialize with their efforts to dig my heart and say "Neil, pagod ka na... Tulungan ka na namin".

I've been self-orienting since time immemorial. I have learned lots of things without being preached by our priest, our professors, and my parents--particularly my dad. I am not sure, but when they teach lessons of life and academe, I listen. But I exclude a large ration of those. I want to discover things by myself.

It's not because I want to be recognized as Frank Sinatra popularly rendered. In fact, eventhough I haven't said a word, I am the center of attraction.

I don't seek attention. Attention seeks me.

Am I that intelligent?

-----------------

Ain't you pissed off when someone intentionally and over-volumely interrupts you while you're in the middle of your speaking?

Categories: Personalan

FORGETTING SOMETHING?

2006-08-01T12:25:00.000+08:00

I'm so forgetful.

I am not so sure if watching/viewing/daily patronizing pornography affects the proper flow of electric signals across the cosmic highways of my nervous system.

I was, according to my soon-to-graduate nursing student elder brother, diagnosed with teenage Alzheimer's short term memory loss...

I used to forget my deadlines, appointments, and assigned group obligations. Everytime I realize my neural inefficiencies, I just slap myself hard imaginatively and say "Neil, what the hell is happening to you?"

This week, I nearly, but close enough, forgot to:

1. Cut-out news clippings with idioms and define each in a sheet of paper
or more.
2. Translate Idinagdag ni, Ayon kay, aniya, idinugtong
ni, etc. into English and use each in a sentence.
3. Take your ascorbic tabs regularly
4. Make interview questions for aspiring applicants for the Advertising
guild of SAMASKOM
5. Burn CDs for Kuya Emman
6. Pirate Adobe Pagemaker 7 for Ate Abby
7. Interview MIS programmer in DLSU-Dasma Library
8. Create a write-up for our MIS interview in Jollibee Indang
9. Take photos for our Photography midterm prerequisite.
9. Live happily every after.

All which have not been noted on my handy-dandy notebook.

My mommy blames my sleeplessness. I always sleep at 3 am when I got home and have my buttocks semi-permanently attached to my deskop PC.

My brother blames my being extremely undisciplined. Well, at least I'm not that obvious to (*fill in the blanks with words related to actions being done in a room locked intentionally.)

I blame it to ~~free porn and~~ blogging.

Oh I almost forgot... I still have a class at 1:30 pm. Darn me, I'm so forgetful.

Categories: Eskwelahan

HELPING WITH NO DEFINITE REWARD

2006-07-30T15:57:00.000+08:00

OMG - My first ever PODCAST

Eherm... well, if it is my first, then it's presumably my worst. Haha. What a prick I am. Hope you bother hovering your mouse pointer over the play button of mine. Huhuhu... I was inspired to Juice's podcast. Tried to have at least one just to check my voice quality... if there's any. ^_^. Definitely I WILL NOT SING. I can't. haha. Training ground for broadcasting, perhaps? But honestly it was awkward to record while the rest of my relatives are around. It's so intimidating.

I've uploaded a speakerphone version of today's post. I hope you appreciate my effort just in case you don't want to read and instead listen to my clumsy reading. ^_^ Don't mind the mispronunciation and noseblowing. I was eating. ^_^

O BTW, fllnngl tagged me. Refer to this post about this Random Like yadda-yadda describing tags. Thanks fllnngl!
---------------

Someone challenged me to do a wholly Tagalog post. Well actually, I had a wholly Tagalog post last April—a special post about my closest publication colleague Maria Theresa Pangilinan (well, if you don’t know her, they will tell you). Ok. I’ll do it for the 2nd time. Hope it’ll be my last.

Mind you… you’ll be expecting a lot of bulolled (coined term) vocabularies here. Haven’t been writing eloquently straight in Tagalog for the past few years that’s why I’m barbarically having a hard time writing news stories for Mr. Jun del Rosario (a former Senior Manager of ABS-CBN News Dept). Because of that, I feel like I’ve been sinful nationalistically to our Mother Land (hate you, Americanized/Westernized education)Might give you hints that there will be portions of TH (trying hard) highfalutin Tagalog terminologies which I’ve learned in reading Jose Rizal’s novels and, of course, conversations with some natives in Indang. Bisaya, pwede pa ako, ga. Korean, gure! Tagalog, sa email siguro for my Dad.

-------------------------

PAGTULONG NANG WALANG TIYAK NA KABAYARAN

Naging abala ako (*nose bleeds) sa aking akademiko nitong mga nagdaang araw. Naisip ko, unti-unti nang nalalanta ang aking mga talulot sa pagpasok ko sa pamantasan. Hindi tulad ng dati, kahit na magkasakit ako mula sa isanlibo’t isang kagat ng Aedes egypti sa pwet habang nakasalampak ako sa kama nang patiwarik, pinipilit ko ang katawan kong maligo’t magbihis para sa mga klaseng nakasalalay ang class standings ko noong highschool. Ngayon, kahit umambon-ambon lang diyan sa may labahan ng aming tinutuluyang apartment, pakiramdam ko katapusan na ng mundo.

Kantyaw ko nga sa aking mga kaklaseng masipag na gumigising sa akin tuwing alas-6 ng umaga, malapad ang kama, malambot ang unan, malamig ang hangin, mahalumigmig ang kapaligiran, makulimlim ang kalangitan Para saan ba ang ganitong mga biyaya ng Maykapangyarihan? Tutal, sabi ko sa kanila, hindi naman ako nag-aalala dahil matalino naman ako sa paningin ng faculty ng KabSU at hindi ko daw kailangan pang alalahanin ang aking mga marka sa aking kwadrado.

Ngayon, iniisip ko na lang ang prinsipyong parang utot ng aking kuya kung lumitaw sa aking kukote.

‘Kailangan kong yumaman bago mag-asawa’.

Mag-asawa—bibilang muna ako ng tupa bago ko marating ang kahahantungan ng paglagay ko sa aking sarili sa matiwasay na katahimikan. Kulang na lang, may sisiw sa ibabaw. Biskwit at kape, meron ka ba?

Pinapasikat ko na rin sa aking mga kaTROFAMILYKADA (na nagsimula dahil sa walang kakwenta-kwenta naming professor sa Intro to Film and Audiovisual Communication) ang aking CD burning business. Sabi ko, mula ngayon, adhikain ko nang palawigin ang kapangyarihan ng piracy sa Cavite dahil sa monopolistang Bill Gates na iyan na wala nang ginawang iba kundi magpalaki ng bayag sa paggagawa ng virus sa mundo ng internet. Kung alam niyo lang, gamit ko ngayon ang super-bago-ngunit-piratang Microsoft Office 2007 na nadownload ko lang gamit ang bago kong bestfriend na si Azureus. O di ba, close kami sa isa’t isa? Hindi lang Media Player 11 Hacked, Nero 7 Premium, Adobe Creative Suite 2, Internet Explorer 11, Limewire Pro 4.11, atbp ang iniregalo sa kin ni Azureus. Pati ang superlaking Encarta 2006, Rosetta Stone Japanese, Visual Basic, at ilan pang malalaking programs, nadownload kong lahat nang hindi ako gumagastos ng Php 500,000.00.

Sabi ko sa sarili ko, ang presyong pinapataw ng mga software developers ay kasakiman. Kung hindi pa ako mamimirata, kalian ko pa mapapag-aralan ang mga programs na ito na kakailangan ko sa aking trabaho? Hindi ba’t ang edukasyon ay karapatan ninuman? Buti na lang, ininspire ako ni Captain Sparrow. Piracy is the best policy.

Umalis ako kahapon para tulungan ang aking katropang si Kuya Emman. Kuya, dahil ayoko siyang tawaging Manong. Tatay na naming siya sa grupo. May proyekto kasing pinapagawa ang kanyang irog na ipapasa sa Huwebes. Eto ako, inialay ang aking talento para sa kanya. May bayad pa nga daw, sabi niya. Naku, okay na sanang walang kabayaran. Kaso, tinanong pa ako kung magkano ang pagpapagawa ng Powerpoint-based 2d animation with commentary story sa kin. Nahiya tuloy ako. Ni minsan, hindi ko pinresyuhan ang sinumang humihingi ng pabor sa akin. Basta matuwa lang sila kahit walang bayad, ok na sa kin yun.

Nakarating kami ng SM Manila mga 9 am ng umaga. Dahil sa mukhang mahuhuli sa pagdating ang irog ni Kuya Emman, minungkahi ko nang maghanap kami ng mga computer centers na pwedeng paggawan ng kanyang Powerpoint Presentation. Marami pala sa SM Manila ng mga computer centers. Ngunit hindi pala.

Kamakailan lang ay naglunsad ng malawakang pagkuyog ng kapulisan ng Maynila upang halughigin ang mga computer centers na gumagamit ng pirated softwares. Partikular sa hinanting nilang mga programs ay ang Microsoft Windows, Microsoft Office, at Adobe Creative Suite. Naging talamak diumano ang pagkalat ng mga computer centers na ilegal na gumagamit ng naturang mga softwares na hindi man lang binabayaran ang karampatang presyo ng lisensyang nakalakip sa bawat program.

Aun, nakaisang laksang siyam-siyam na namaga ang aming mga pata sa kakahanap ng mga computer centers na merong Powerpoint. Wala po kami, sagot ng mga hinayupak. Nasira ang umaga ko noon.

Ngunit sadyang masyadong maganda ang pagkakakanta ni Sarah Geronimo ng Bituing Walang Ningning (mahal kita, idol) at nakatsamba ang inyong lolo sa isang panget (wow! Panglait!) na computer shop na patagong nag-ooperate ng isang PC na may nakainstall na Powerpoint Year of the Kopong-kopong. Pinagtyagaan na naming gamitin ito kaysa naman sa mabigwasan ang aking Kuya Emman ng family ng kanyang irog kung dederetso kami sa kanilang tahanan.
Galante ang kanyang irog. As in super. Ilang sandal lang at nag-lunch time na. Umalis lang sandali ang mag-irog para daw bumili ng panglunch. Ilang minuto pa, may two-chicken meal na ako with frech fries, mineral water and large Coke na ako sa harap. Maya-maya pa, biglang kumaripas ng takbo si Kuya Emman. Extra rice daw para sa akin. Naku, naubos ko na ang manok. Nang magmeryenda alas-dos, bumili ng brownies. Naku, hindi ako ginugutom ng magsing-irog.

Natapos namin itong Powerpoint presentation mga alas-kwatro ng hapon. Humirit pa ang magsing-irog. Tinreat pa ako sa Burger King sa SM Manila na noo’y pinamugaran ng mga adik sa deodorant. Hindi, nandoon kasi ang First Day High gang. Wow, ganda pala ni Sosy High sa personal. Pandak pala talaga si Boy 2 Quizon. At, parang tore na tinubuan ng kagwapo-gwapong mukha itong boyfriend ni Kyla.

Tinanong ko sila kung bakit sila sobra kung gumastos para sa kin. Wag daw akong mag-alala. Gagastos naman daw sila para sa pagkain. Tutal, pagkain rin naman ang habol nila at hindi lang naman daw ako ang kakain. Nakakatuwa talaga silang tingnan. Sabi ko kasi sa kanila, wala kasi akong dapat pagkagastusan kundi murang pantawid ng gutom at pang-internet. Tawa ang maglola.

Umuwi kami kinagabihan. Nakaidlip ako saglit nang bigla akong kinalabit ni Kuya Emman. May mukha ng ka-b-day kong si Benigno Aquino sa kanyang kamao. Asus, bigla tuloy akong nagmukhang sinampal ni Cherrie Gil sa hiya. Napakalaki nang ginastos ng kanyang irog para sa akin tapos may kwarta pang kasama. Binusog na nila ang tapeworms sa aking tiyan tapos, me datung. Una’y tumanggi ako, pero sa pamimilit tinanggap ko rin. Kunin ko na raw dahil baka masulot pa kami ng mga magnanakaw sa maynila. Pambaon rin ito na hindi hihingiin kay Mommy. Pero kung nagkataon, hindi ko na sana tinanggap. Sapat na sakin na nagustuhan nila ang comedy presentation na ginawa ko.

Hindi ko alam kung bakit pero mahirap sa akin ang tumanggap ng kabayaran lalo pa’t itatanong pa sa akin kung anong kabayaran ang dapat kong matanggap. Malaking utang na loob na ang pagiging kaibigan ko sila. Dahil sa tanang buhay ko, sila lang ang mga naging tunay kong kaibigang hindi sinasahuran ng tubig tuwing naliligo sa palikuran. Sapat na sa akin ang maging tapat sila sa sarili nila na kilalanin ako bilang ako. Kaya kung may tulong na hihingiin sila, basta’t hindi ako napipilitan dahil sa kung anong Poncio Pilatong magsasabi sa king dapat kong gawin yun, iaalay ko ang aking kapangyarihan.

Categories: Personalan

INTIMIDATION IS THE BEST POLICY

2006-07-27T16:58:00.000+08:00

I look intimidating.

Even my classmates are quite intimidated to me. Each time I talk in front of them, they, uh what you call this, stare at me provocatively as if they seemed to be guarded by some tiger-looking librarian in the group. They listen very carefully, note some words which they don't understand (when I speak English), and never bullied around by chatting with their seatmates inside our class whenever I report.

"Para ka kasing teacher, Neil", one former classmate (and a close diva friend of ours) told me...

I remember when I first attended our very first class in Cavite State U, I was wearing a was-popular Lee Pipes shirt, jeans, hair cut with gel damped on while holding a Tuscany envelope filled with some Martian-language documents from planet Jupiter. I saw a pack of students fancying on the corridor chitchating about their, well, post graduation experiences. Then, I walked closer to them thinking that they are my MCOM classmates.

Everyone became silent except the birds chirping and houseflies mating.

"Sir, kayo po ba prof namin sa BIO?", Krizelle asked.

I laughed intrapersonally.

Ever since I became the popular talk of the freshmen, people used to stare at me. People quietted by my looks and accent, though I am obliged speaking natively, each time I approach them. "Mukha kang Koreano". Students are dumbfound when I talk to them. They say, it's hard to speak in English. I usually have the best treatment from the faculty who are just so impressed "daw" with my 'dating'(aura) and 'dunong'(intelligence). It became worse when I joined the publication. It became worst when I joined univ organizations.

I can't count how many times people judge me the way I speak and look. This first impression really diverts people's perception about the real personality of other persons. Person of ordinary quality, or perhaps trying-to-be-ordinary personality. It cannot be blamed. All people are oriented significantly different from each other.

Due to the fact that more and more people are intimidated to me, I now dress fashionably ordinary. I speak patriotically ordinary, (though I admit the fact that I always lose my vocabulary per conversation).

One time, I forgot to wash my polo top. I had no choice but to wear my gray polo shirt in school. After reaching the Tricycle Term'e'nal, trike drivers were scrambling as if some congressman was donating another waiting shed in their area. I reached Gate two. The lady guard is keen with the student's ID wearing. My companions entered gracefully. Then it was my turn.

"Oh, good morning po, sir", with a big smile the lady guard greeted me with reverence.

"Good morning, too", I retorted.

I laughed intrapersonally for the second time.

Categories: Eskwelahan

TIGBAKAN--LAGLAGAN--FHM

2006-07-24T19:21:00.000+08:00

This post isn't supposed to be posted today. Hell Blogger who seemed to have gone haywire for the nth time already. But anyways, I've posted it. Enjoy!

Prelude *updated*:

Before the babes, I was tagged. Hehehe. The rules? I submitted my name to their comments section. Then she will give comments/suggestions about my blog corresponding to the words below.

If you want to be tagged, just include "Buruguduystunstuguduystun me, Neil" on the footer of your comment. Ok?

Click this if you want to read their responses. Skip this if don't want to. ^_^

From Juicee:

1. Random
Hoy you never told me to link you, I could have read your posts way back if I knew.. :D

Hehehe... it's not my habit to popularize my blog with link exchange. If I really like a blog, I automatically link it. Anyways, thanks for linking me, too ^_^

2. Challenge
Try not to associate anything with Korean stuff in your life for 2 weeks. Kaya? Woot!

Uhmmm... it's hard. Cannot be. Next!

3. Color
The blue in your blog. I like that color

I really lurrve blue. My life is so blue... my room is blue. Our house is blue. Blue-blue-blue.

4. LIKE
I like how your posts are so straightforward...

Thanks. In real life, I'm straightforward.

5. FIRST MEMORY
Hmm, I forgot, I mean I've been to your blog waay back.. refresh me?

Oh... I can't recall... hmmm... You have a good memory.

6. ANIMAL
A zebra? Coz your blog is full of white and blue.. hahah labo!

Heehonk. Nyihheeeeee. Bite.

7. QUESTION
What's your favorite Korean movie?

Wet Dreams. Joke. My Sassy Girl.

8. SONG
Since you're so Korean, More Than Words by G.O.D (they split up right?) I love their version, coz it's Korean. hehe :D

Errr... I don't like GOD. Yes, they are already disbanded. But my real faves are Lexy, Wheesung, Lee Su Yeong and Kim Beom Su.

From Anje:

RANDOM
`I was surprised you commented. LOL

Surprise!

CHALLENGE
`Make a post using gay linog. Ahahaha! TRIP NA TOH!

Hay. Ang hitad. Binebera mo akelsh. Bruha ka! Lol

COLOR
`Blue. Color of your blog eh

Ah ok. Hehehe. Love blue.

LIKE
`You're very friendly

Thank you, bitch. Joke!!!

FIRST MEMORY
`yung comment mo kanina. LOL

Oh... uh... err... who are you?

ANIMAL
`Jaguar. Kasi you know how to ''spot'' a good post? Adiiik

Talaga lang, ha? How did you know?

QUESTION
`Link exchange tayooo?

Ermmm... I'll read your blog first from top to bottom. Yiheeee!

SONG
`Mang Jose by PnE. It just popped out when I saw your header. Heheee

I hate that song. I like "The Order Taker". ^_^

--------------

FHM Wootness

Oh... malakas lang ang trip ko.

I was browsing interconnecting blogs from one link to another and then I noticed Baylon's.

I didn't realize, I drafted an email about the 100 FHM Sexiest in the World a few weeks ago. Hehe. Just to make sure my pornographic juices are still working and cumming---err, I mean coming, here's how I look at these babes on my mag and uploaded it here.

Anyways... just wondering.

FHM 100 Sexiest in the World? I mean--the whole world? I don't believe it. Even those scumbags from the remotest shanties in our planet recognize small time whores like Jaycee Parker? It's not.

It's just that these are the girls only recognized by Filipinos (and Filipina-orgasmic citizens of the world) as the most juicilicious of all.

Even Jang-Geum was victimized by these crooks...

Hahaha. OMG. I can't believe I did this. Go on, continue reading.

Drum rolls, please...

-----

100. Katya Santos - Err... chubby. My mother look-alike. (mom *giggles*)

99. Jaboom Twins - Cute. Short-legged.

98. Kit Barraquias - Continue your studies, ok?

97. Gem Ramos - Show? Show? Show!

96. Jen Rosendahl - Tall. Jawbones. Nice nips. Thanks, Eat Bulaga ^_^

95. Jamilla - Donde estas... jamilla--oh sorry. She's devirginized already.

94. Sheree - Yihee. Sheree! Yihee! My favorite Hotbabe.

93. Nadine Schmidt - OMG... Nadine? Hey, long time no see! Where have you been? In London?

92. Bea Alonzo - Fugly. Chubby.

91. Denise Montecillo - Nyahahaha. Wala lang.

90. Apreal Tolentino - Thunder. Thunder.

89. Carol Garcia - Dunno her. Who is she?

88. Jenny Miller - Oh... ah ok. Sexy.

87. Kyla - HOWAW! KYLA---drool... drool... wish I could see Kyla wearing bikinis. Whohoo!

86. Zara Lopez - Err... a Quezon City Circle regular?

85. Maricar dela Fuente - nyehehe. Still don't know this gal. Sexy.

84. Kelly Misa - Love her. Ponds, KFC--then partnered with a gay Piolo Pascual. Love you Kelly!

83. Jocelyn Oxelade - Super fine.

82. Jaymee Joaquin - Umm, is 'Bora' still existing?

81. Kristine Hermosa - go to Malaysia. You're super famous there, chubby. ^_^

80. Kat Alano - Bwahaha. Wowowee! Sosy High.

79. Alessandra de Rossi - Love this girl. This sexy naughty bitchy Alex. bow.

78. Ruffa Mae Quinto - Wow. Todo na to. Whooh! As in to the hayest level na to. Okay?

77. Belinda Bright - Argh. Monster! Mommy! Mommy!

76. Regine Velasquez - Err... just sing na lang.

75. Yasmien Kurdi - HOWAAAT??? SEXIEST??? I THOUGHT PIGS ARE NOT ALLOWED??? FHM??

74. Sheena Halili - Err... gf of Rainier Castillo? Very polite girl. Cute.

73. Renee Summer - Oh. The FHM summer issue girl. Seriously.

72. Pia Guanio - Chika Minute lady. Eat Bulaga Babe. Only if she wears her makeup.

71. Andrea del Rosario - Err... wear a mask.

70. Pops Fernandez - aging but still ravishing. Hahaha. My classmate look-alike

69. Elisha Cuthbert - I dunno her.

68. Ryza Cenon - Who is she? Hehehe. Just kidding.

67. Jopay Paguia - My fave Sexbomb dancer. Go Jopay!

66. Ornusa Cadness - Borgy Manotoc. I only know Borgy.

65. Lj Reyes - Hmmm... who is she, too?

64. Lee Young Ae - AAARGH!! My JANG-GEUM? SEXY? BRAAARRGH!!

63. Julia Clarete - Whoo! Rockista! Artista! Durugista.! Cool! Sobrang ok, tol!

62. Angelina Jollie - Tomb Raider. I don't like her lips. But she's humanitarian.

61. Gwen Garci - Dumb-ass bitch. Really. Totally stupid.

60. Kitchie Nadal - Waaargh! Kitchie! Gotta keep my ears on her music.

59. Lindsay Lohan - I dunno but I never listened nor watched her sing.

58. Eula Valdez - Groovy. Maharot cover girl. Hotta Momma.

57. Zhang Zi Yi - Crouch Me, Geisha. I have a Hidden Dragon. Roar.

56. Janelle Jamer - Wowowee! Wowowee! A Ruffa Mae rip-off

55. Nadine Samonte - Oh my god... Nadine... o Nadine... I can die now...

54. Jackie Rice - a dumb SS. Really. Hell--who cares about intelligence, eh? ^_^

53. Chynna Ortaleza - too skinny

52. Aliya Parcs - Who the hell is she?

51. Rochelle Pangilinan - hmm... she's not beautiful, but she dances sensually. ^_^

50. Nicole Hernandez - AMP girl.

49. Isabel Oli - Gorgeous face. True blue Filipina. I love Cebuanas. Philippine
goodness

48. Cherry Lou - Fatso. Penguin.

47. Maja Salvador - Again... attempted to be partnered to John. It never worked.

46. Cristine Reyes - a goddess. A good actress. Better than her elder sis.

45. Sofie - Who is she???

44. Valerie Concepcion - Teenage moms really are damn so sexy.Cover girl for this month.

43. Bubbles Paraiso - Ah ok. sister of Paolo Paraiso. Paolo is a ham. Is she a ham, too?

42. Ara Mina - Is she my mother? I think I am viewing a Mr. Marshmallow right now.

41. Michelle Madrigal - Ah. SCQ gal. So?

40. Iza Calzado - Euuwe. Euuwe. Euuwe. Hehheey. Encantadia. Amihan. Hangin! Whoosh!

39. Ehra Madrigal - Hmm... I don't know her. An Umbra, it says? What's an Umbra, anyway?

38. Marian Rivera - You make me shine... shine! Darna! Nyahahah!

37. Jeni Hernandez - Vandolph? Oh... girlfriend of Vandolph, you say.

36. Mariel Rodriguez - she's unpredictably dumb but god damn gorgeous. Nayaha.

35. Maureen Larazabal - Too tall. Too surgically-modified. No comment.

34. Cassandra Ponti - I don't like her nips. cover it, please. ^_^

33. Jessica Alba - Hotta hotta. Hotta hotta.

32. Maria Sharapova - Tennis pornstars, anyone?

31. Aubrey Miles - Beautiful mother. Oops... did I mention something... mo-th-e-r?

30. Regine Tolentino - Too old.

29. Chinggay Andrada - Intelligent. Ummm.. smart, and... Responsible?

28. Jaycee Parker - A Whore.

27. Toni Gonzaga - I love her hosting. I love her punchlines. I love her. But she's not sexy

26. Precious Lara Quigaman - Tee-Vee babe Miss World title holder. Groovy.

25. Camille Prats - Lard. Butter. Margarine. Tallow. Oil. Fat?

24. Vanna garcia - she looks so suplada.

23. Phoemela Barranda - Pot session. Sniff sniff. Swallow. Syringe. High. Vapor.

22. Chesca Garcia - Too mestiza. Too intimidating. I'm melting...

21. Jennifer Lee - oh... Viva Hot Babe. Ok.

20. Maui Taylor - Hmm... can I purchase a barbie doll instead?

19. Rica Peralejo - Thank God she's fair-skinned. Broil her. what does she look like?

18. Nancy Castiglione - Mother. Oops. Mom. Oops. Ina. Nanay. Momsky. Mamuy. Waah!

17. Anne Curtis - Love me, Anne! Love me!

16. Iwa Moto - ok. is she not in good terms with (insert name here/entire world) again?

15. Heart Evangelista - Damn so delicious. I can die now.

14. Angelica Panganiban - Boobs na tinubuan ng mukha.

13. Asia Agcaoili - Teach sex education. Don't pose--oops! Don't look at me. Just teach.

12. Tanya Garcia - Carlos Miguel--twin hearts... we will never be apart..

11. Francine Prieto - OMG... rape me! rape me! Joke. I respect Ate Marie.

10. Bianca Gonzales - Too pinay to be true. Beautiful.

9. Pauleen Luna - Hmmm... humble but chubby... hmmm... chubby talaga eh.

8. Iya Villania - Oh... that Game VJ on IBC13, now one of Willie's concubines. Hehehe

7. Cindy Kurleto - God. OMG. A goddess... I worship you. If she sings, just look at her ^_^

6. Jennylyn Mercado - cheapstake. What happened to her? Regularly dumped?

5. Bianca King - Oh... thanks for that TJ hotdog. Want my TJ hotdog, too? No really...

4. Diana Zubiri - God---OMG--- I can die now, Sang'gre Danaya... kill me...

3. Angel Locsin - (inside the bathroom... 10 minutes later) Hey, I only pooped, ok? (Gets some alcohol)

2. Katrina Halili - (inside my room... 30 minutes later) I only changed my clothes, ok? (takes a bath)

1. Scarlett Johansson - errr... WHO THE HELL IS THIS BITCH ANYWAY???

Hope you enjoyed. I enjoyed it, too! (Goes inside his room. Locks his door.)

Categories: Tsismisan

DARN YOU BROWNOUT!

2006-07-23T19:23:00.000+08:00

Darn! Darn! Darn! Darn you, brownout! Darna!

Ok. I am so pissed off with today's multiplied sudden halt of electricity in our subdivision. Arrrgh! I was typing my latest entry this morning. Well, not much of a show-off, but I am not used to drafting my articles in MS Word then copy-pasting it since my super-latest Office 2007 has problems with punctuation marks when text is transferred to a browser. I was in the middle of my story-telling then suddenly, some exaggerated female neighbor of ours shouted "Ay diyos ko... (unintelligible words here)".

My post instantly disappeared...

Aargh! I hate you, Diether Ocampo!

~~It's 7 pm already.~~ No... my younger brother interrupted me and had myself waiting for hours with , it's 2 am already. Grrrr. I scolded him. He can't force any appeals. He has no choice but to say sorry.

If it's not the brownout, I would have been in our apartment in Indang right now oopsy-daisying with my housemates (err... Big Brother wootness).

I hate brownouts. I even wonder how it was coined 'brown' though you can only see yourself and the color of your third-world pubic hair everywhere.

-----------------

Basically there are 3 types of brownouts that have wasted so much precious seconds of my entire life:

1. The scheduled maintenance brownout.

This is the most unusual brownout. The most significant, yet seldom to occur in our area. Maybe our neighborhood doesn't care if someone in our subdivision's circuit flickers and hints of a major fire hit us. Meralco cuts our connection to the uptown in order to, well, track if there are any dimwits in our place who steals electricity, or if an outrageously stupid Maya pecks or perch on a transformer or an open wire.

I'm quite happy with these maintenance brownouts. Not only that it'll force me to finish all my projects earlier, it also gives me more justifiable reason to go to SM Dasma or elsewhere where I would not have sauna service at home. It's so freakin hot during daytime cut-offs!

2. The unscheduled-yet-hearsaid brownout.

Err... why do these people purportedly keep scheduled brownouts a secret? Because they want to commercialize their locally-monopolized water distribution? We are not stupid. We will not buy from them. We will intentionally bring our pails and drums in front of their house --in front of their flabbergasted ass faces--and fetch water somewhere. Pang-asar, right?

Thank God for my mother who has the highest rate of Public Relations in our subdivision, and we are not left behind from these chismaxes.

3. The shockingly surprising brownout

Aaaargh!! I hate this! I hate this! I detest God for having this kind of incident to exist in our world! It pulls liters of blood from my feet to my brain! Arrrgh! Erkh...kkhk--gulg---brrp--pfft-- (*seizures*)

This ruins my whole day especially when I'm using my PC. More particular if I'm using non-emergency-saving applications like Photoshop (where I used to do my comic series images) and internet browsers (where I used to type my posts impromptu online).

I was nearly finishing my post at 7 am. Then my screen turned black. Time stopped all of a sudden. I was stunned. Wish I could throw a huge stone at Meralco for not announcing this cut-off today.

Why didn't I include blackouts? It's a hell lot detestable than brownouts. Anywhere in your province, city, or the whole Luzon, you cannot do anything enjoyable. You cannot savor the wonders of modern-day technological convenience. You'll be brought back to your parent's past decades where tambuli is your cell phone and Langit-lupa is your fave Olympic event. Talk about burping in a yawnfest. I'd rather sleep.

----------------

WAAAAAH!!! PUREFOODS WON!!!! YAHOOO!!!!
HURAAAH!!! YIPEEE!!! MAGPAPAINOM DAW SI MANNY!!!

Errr...

In fact, I've been unenthusiastic to PBA game watching since Sunkist found themselves harvesting kangkongs. Basketball has never been my sport. Blame it on my fractured arm.

I'm very happy that a clean-performing team like Purefoods won the conference with 90-83. Because of it, I've been hooked to basketball--not with playing that sport--but to read and view everything about PBA. Not NBA... PBA.

I'm so proud to have a Filipino pack of smashing cagers to be inspired with.

Categories: Tsismisan

DIETHER OCAMPO IS GONE

2006-07-20T16:16:00.000+08:00

So much for my sensationalism, eh?

-------

I live in Dasma.

(???)

Dasmarinas, Cavite, assholes.

To go to Indang using your proletarian prowess, you need to ride a bus or a jeep going to, of course, Indang. Along the way you'll be passing through Langkaan (has a lot of jackfruits), FCIE (has a lot of woots), Manggahan (has a lot of mangoes--duh?), Conchu (has a lot of--uh... Chinese?), and so on and so forth blah-blah-blah whatever. The rest of the towns are insignificant...

In Manggahan, there's this building built circa 2002 with a tarpauline (is this correctly spelled?) of Agua Vida with a seemingly-wholesome-short-haired-offspring-free Diether Ocampo holding a phallus--joke--mineral bottle.

After gazing through the window of the jeepney 45 minutes ago, I saw a boxer delishly gourmandizing a chicken drumstick in his grip in front of that establishment.

Diether Ocampo is gone.

---------------

STAPLES

Oh great. Haven't you noticed? Each time you place a new cartridge of staples in your stapler, you need to staple one staple on its stable to close the stapler? Sheesh... wasting a staple.

Never been successful.

---------------

If you want to read my mind, continue reading...

I WOULD RUN AWAY

It's hard to convince everyone in my circle how stubborn I am when it comes to accepting responsibility offers. It is, however, very difficult to simply say that 'n' word Kuya Butterfly has been telling me to respond whenever these people approach me and convince me with their conscience-digging elaborations of how important my role is to 'the people'.

Nowadays, I'm being dumbfounded when 'these' people are conversing with me. Why? I don't know how to tactfully respond with 'I cannot do' because of my presumptions--thinking that when I say 'no', they will bombard me with consecutive lines like Why? How come? What's your valid reason? Do you think 'they' will be happy? What about 'them'?

Them--counted in millions of letters.

They used to, or usually say, Neil, you have the greatest capacities of being a student leader. You can lead them. With your (enumerate my greatest talents from one to one hundred), you can easily (cannot be disclosed).

A person could be instantly qualified through his greatest considerable experiences and accomplishments from the past and, too, exaltations from his/her closest peers. Or possible, exaltations like his greatest considerable experiences and accomplishments of his past from his/her closest peers. Because of it, there can be more possibilities that job opportunities will pile up in front of you without your awareness and approval.

Yet, these opportunities sometimes are disregarding the person being suffocated by them, moreso if people are very confident that the person they trusted is competitive--so-called competitive

I'm just a human... I'm no multi-tasking operating system of yours.

They might have been used to Neil very busy with academics, Neil very busy to the publication, Neil very busy to 'extra-curricular' education, Neil very busy to 'intercampus' involvement...

Not anymore.

These obligations and opportunities slash responsibilities seemed to flow in my nasal cavities just like any other ordinary fresh air in Indang, Cavite, but minute-by-minute, when I depreciate, carbon dioxide fills-up my lungs, ready to be yawned.

What happens next?

On my bed, snoring with my mind kept somewhere else...

I'm being swallowed by my presumptions in arguments being served over the table of my life. I don't know how to walk around normally without questioning myself where the hell I should indulge myself to...

I've lost directions.

I've lost my opportunities to greater education...

But it's not appropriate to blame it all to them...

It's all my fault of hitching on the jeepney they're riding without inquiring the driver whether he'll avail my student discount or not...

I'm so confused...

Categories: Personalan

WHY CAN'T YOU LET ME GO?

2006-07-15T11:36:00.000+08:00

I'm devastated.

I've already left them. Prematurely. Unprofessionally. Unconsiderably. Unintelligently.

I ultimately know myself that when these obligations keep on dogging around my space, or perhaps pile up into layers of my lasagna, I would be very uncomfortable to eat it up to its last sauce...

I will not be an efficient News Editor.
I will not be an efficient Production Director.
I will not be an efficient Class President.
I will not be an efficient CEGP Provincial Consultant.

I am so confused. So perturbed with all that has happened to me. My neural chains have gone haywire.

I am effective, but I cannot be efficient.

Would I be preferred in spite of my actions right now?

'The more people oblige me to fulfill certain responsibilities which I considered objectionable in my part, the more stubborn and impudent I'll be." - Jang Woo (My Girl - 2006)

Zeus asked me to return to The Gazette. Shit.

I can't. I don't want.

"I prefer not to..." - Bartleby the Scrivener

It just makes me teary-eyed.

Now, someone is 'getting through my conscience' to be 'allegedly' appointed as CEGP Provincial Consultant.

I don't want to. I don't want to be forced.

My head is aching now. I am totally out of my own nutshell...

I want space... point blank space...

I've been with these responsibilities--a HELL lot of responsibilities. Most of these, however, have been unaccomplished because of my inadequacies...

I don't want to suffer inasmuch as them, too, just because of my status right now.

What does hiatus really meant for?

Meant for people like me who, for the past few years, have been dredged to these works out of passion that gradually turned out into a half-hearted obligation? I don't want such kind of setup in my life right now.

I've been losing my senses. I've lost my very own self because of these. Now, I don't know my directions--my real interests--all because of these...

I'm lost... I need to get rid of these... for a year...

Please... release me... let me go...

"You need to get high up, not far away" - Ju Yoo Rin (My Girl-2006)

I need both.

I hate it.

Categories: Personalan

FOOD FIASCO

2006-07-13T15:02:00.000+08:00

Minimize the contrast of this pic. That's what I've eaten last Tuesday.

Why people are hurt when you speak with sincerity and honesty?

We were dining in our apartment in Kaytapos. I've contributed for our food. A hundred peso budget. Our housemate slash class chef cooked Tinola. We served it and started munching. Then the rest of the gang stooped on the floor (we don't have a table--hehehe). Suddenly, I punched a line.

"We should have bought Knorr broth cubes." The stew looked dull, but it tasted Tinola, though. I whined for the white color. I was very friendly.

Few seconds later, a girl stood up with her plate and glass screeching with mild phrases sounding like "Basta hindi na mahalaga sa akin kung masarap o hindi ang niluluto ko." With tears edging her eyelids...

Prior to it, "Lagi mo na lang pinagkukumpara luto ko sa mommy mo."

She got offended.

I apologized a zillion times. I explained. But she's not satisfied.

I don't get her the point. Should I continue eating her dishes or just spend my 700-peso weekly allowance with Garlic Chicken and 3 rice from Sizzling Point every night?

What is she whining about?

I've apologized to her. 5 times. But she preferred to semi-permanently set her profile in silent mode.

I'm introverted. I'm not sociable. If she doesn't want anyone to apologize to her even with the greatest or the most submersible verdict unfavorable to her, I don't care. I'll live my life. I'm not apologetic 6 times and above. I've proven my point, and my point is justifiable. Righteous.

If she doesn't want my apology, well, my apologies for not apologizing to her again.

And she did her movie-stereotypical retribution.

She cooked a tasteless Champorado.

They intentionally invited me to be the first one to eat it. And so I dived the serving spoon at the stove. Since it's tasteless, I loudly opened the intentionally-scarcely-left-overed sugar bottle and splashed it to my bowl. Great. A pinch of sugar came out of the bottle. I graced mixing it then loudly opened the Milo jar and poured 2 teaspoons in it, hoping that its sugar will help my taste buds work well. I left the rest of that tasteless self-served-flavoring Champorado tastless in the pot. I climbed upstairs and ate it for 10 seconds, then poured another scoop of tasteless champorado to my bowl and added sugar coming from a bottle intentionally hidden in the cabinets. There's sugar in the cabinets pala? I climbed upstairs, memorized a hundred Japanese nouns for 15 seconds, and went down--with a hundred pesos in my pocket. I went outside our apartment, then returned holding a half-kilo SUGAR pack in front of her.

Someone exclaimed 'Me asukal pa tayo, ah?'

I retorted.

"Talaga? Well, I thought wala na. E di bumili ako." (Oh really? Well, I thought we don't have any. So I bought one.) I harshly grabbed a knife, sliced to open the sugar pack and opened the sugar bottle--filling it up to its rim. Then I added, with a seemingly intimidating tone:

"In case wala na tayong sugar, sabihin niyo lang. May pera ako." (In case we don't have sugar left, tell me. I have money.)

I'm not stupid.

I'll do this again with soy sauce, patis, salt, MSG, oyster sauce, pepper, cayenne pepper, flour, cornstarch, bay leaf, ginger, onions, and garlic if she repeats such immature revenge.

Hindi ko maintindihan ang gusto niyang ipalabas.
(I don't know what she is up to.)

She cooks for us. She is doing her role in our apartment--while me, the so-called walking encyclopedia, will do the rest of tutorials, dishwashing, room-cleaning, and etc.

Though I can't cook, I can taste with good flavor. I love food seasoning. I eat food seasoning, especially that 3-peso Magic sarap that tastes like chicken.

What should I do?

Categories: Personalan

AYOKONG ISULONG SEOPH

2006-07-12T13:57:00.000+08:00

Ok. Super-duper wise strategy of promoting a company with this 'advertise for free' advocacy. Arrgh. It's promoting dreck.

Ha! Maybe I haven't realized those people who've added ISULONG SEOPH links in their sites or perhaps created a site bannering ISULONG SEOPH on their URLs or headers are fooled. Yes, there's a prize. A generous prize from promoting something you don't exactly know or doesn't have someting to help you in your site but to freely advertise and publish more craps aside from this.

Instead of this SEO purchasing advertisement, they will only spend a hundred thousand bucks for those hundreds of fools who've constructed a stupid ISULONG SEOPH site. ARGH.

What if I promote not to promote this pandemoniously stupid blog/site crap, huh?

AYOKONG ISULONG SEOPH

Will I win?

But on the contrary, though I project my adversarian motive of lambasting these fools promoting SEO, I, too am the fool of propagating it. I'm so mean. Median and mode.

AYOKONG ISULONG SEOPH.

I'll win. AYOKONG ISULONG SEOPH.

Sorry matamaan. Hindi kayo mananalo (You'll not win.)

--------------

CLASSES ARE SUSPENDED

Oh, I'm so happy we'll not see Mr. Theatre Actor today. Our classes are retardedly suspend at last.

Retardedly? Our university is isolated from urban civilization. And it spells Cavite State University.

We've even fooled around students walking towards our campus--opposite those thousands of overexcited guys and gals with 7.00 enclosed in their pockets who, at first, didn't believe me that our seemingly slowly updated university has suspended afternoon classes. Ha. They are stunned.

Categories: Eskwelahan, Tsismisan

FRUSTRATIONS OF A FRUSTRATED SINGER

2006-07-10T18:42:00.000+08:00

Guacamole. Salsa. Dispacho.

Still remember those handy kitchen tools used for chopping, grinding, mixing, whipping whatever on TV? If you do, then I suppose those TV ads are one of the major reasons why you are aware of these Mexican delicacies. Does it ring the bell?

-----------

SONGER

I used to sing when I was a kid. Very young kid. I still remember the first song I performed in front of my relatives who thought singing would turn me into gay.

Read more...

"The Greatest Love of All"

I never thought I would be that ~~stupefyingly~~ confident to shout the highest notes of Whitney Houston the chipmunk version. But I guess that became my turning point of my aspiration to win in an amateur singing contest.

I've been singing in different places, in different occasions, in front of different people. I've won lots of awards, recyclable awards which decomposed after years of abandonment, that became my priceless possessions.I had even beaten my richie-rich cousin who even had a vocal instructor. I've impressed him by boasting my capacity to sing "Mama" of Smokey Mountain without breathing. Yup. With full diaphragming. With full voice quality. Talk about youngster bitchiness that made my brusko cousin tearjerky. Imagine a bamboo stick being smacked on your palm 5 times each time he missed a note.

But of course, I've been embarassed for a couple of times. I've joined in a Christmas caroling contest. I flopped. I schmucked. I've forgotten the lyrics. I've had a jammed cassette tape. Fast-forward, I was wasted. So wasted, I cried when the proctors of that competition gave us loses handkerchiefs for consolation. But how was I able to divert my reason of crying?

I've told them

"I missed my father so much, I was distracted because of him."

Awe, the audience gave me a round of pretentious applause.

And so, my fairy tale of my former singing career didn't last for perpetuity.

I blame puberty.

There's this activity in our Music class when I was a highschool freshie where we have to sing "Lupang Hinirang" (Philippine National Anthem). I even laughed at my classmates when they choked while singing the last part. And when my opportunity comes for a minute of fame and glamour, I performed... with birds chirping, trees shaking, wind blowing, fans cheering, flower petals raining...

And then...

Ang mamataha-a-e-u-i-yy---

I've had a fever that lasted for a month.

My career has ended.

Categories: Personalan, Eskwelahan

ATTACK OF THE ACADEMICALLY PROFUSED

2006-07-08T17:01:00.000+08:00

Cheers to the wonderful blogger of his personal calibrated pre-emptive responsive cosmos - me. Bwahahaha! I'm so freakin' glad! I'm free! I'm free!

Free of what?

Free of hyperactively overloaded priorities in school that has made my deliciously futile body into nutmeg. Now, I'm gaining more weight! More weight, I say! Thank you puberty and pornography! Bwahahaha!

Just kidding. Just moving myself on.

Oh BTW-- this Freedom image above looks so pathetic. Imagine me wearing his outfit with wings. Napkin? Neext!

----------

MY ASS IS ACHING... LITERALLY

Oh great. I wasn't able to attend my Nihongo class yesterday because of some bitchy instance that I slipped on the stairs. Wapaak! My butt smashed the floor. Lucky that my backbone was not severed, but my pelvic bone, especially my gluteus maximus, are crying in so much agony, my mom has finally seen my ass for the last time. (She does some massage). "Mommy, namamaga po pwet ko!" (Mommy, my ass is swelling )

Ok. I've never discussed publicly (yes, I mean publicly where hundreds of multinational members of the blogosphere intelligentsia of the world) how my professors/instructors whatever look like. Well, not exactly how they physically appear in my 275-grade-blurred eyes. I'm kinda gonna describe as how they use their muscles (and organs) in the different parts of their body. Dare? Of course, I'd love to. Because I'm going to do it--the Neil way--the 'whom-who-must-not-be-named but can-be-easily-identified' fashion.

For those who don't care, I don't care--for we don't belong to the same school or age.

Hope my professors would not read this

Drum rolls please.

Read More...

-----------

TIGBAKAN SA KAGURUAN

Starting with my first subject for the week:

1. MCOM 22- Ms. Boop-frowns-avoid

Um, perhaps she's one of the best instructors in our college where Mass Communication eventually becomes a 'first choice' for newbies after our beloved Ma. Theresa Pangilinan (kudos Ate Tere) flagged "GMA is an asshole" during their commencement exercise. Perhaps she explains clearly and answers each and every single question or argument we raise in our sessions. Technically she knows her stuff. Ok?

But on the other hand she explains so much, my eyes usually winks and blinks twice per 3 seconds.Ok? Similarly my mouth is also set to 40 kph in 3 minutes. For the record he stands up, she waves her hands practically several times, she explains, and she explains for one-and-a-half hour while us her students celebrate our first week yawnfest and wait for our opportunity to shine. We once, I mean once, enjoyed her company when she does her punchlines. But quantitatively seldom. Ok? Otherwise, our eldest blockmate would be seeing himself making love with Angel Locsin. Did you get my point?

Nevertheless, she's a good instructor. I've learn so much from her. Her facts and detailed, as well as very informative and updated infos about 'mass communication' marked significantly numerous slots in my cerebrum. Yet we can't preclude collecting carbon dioxide in our lungs for boredom.

Additionally we have to foretell if she will slim down. Who knows? We'll be very happy for her. We'll give something special for her in case she does. Ok?

NEEEEHXT!

2. SOSC 6 - MR. BULAGA! SURPRISE! I'M JOKING! PROMISE! BWAHAHA! WAAH!

Typing words about him makes me wanna puke right n--urrgh-- (*blows Milo, nearly digested fried Tilapia bits, mashed rice, and his soul out) Ok. Just did it. Need to clean my mess on my desktop before someone does, too.

He is so disgusting. He [insert corny joke here] feels like he's super-close to us students. If the instructor prior to this [insert corny joke here] cracks her naturally funny interjections [laugh sarcastically here after his corny joke] once in a blue moon, this 'corny joke' na tinubuan ng mukha (a 'corny joke' that has grown a human face) can't face the fact that 'we are not friends', 'we are not close', 'we are not his relatives' whatever. Yup. 'We are not among his [insert sarcastic joke here for masscom latecomers] corny peers.' Arrgh.

He explains very anecdotally. His jokes [don't laugh at his corny joke--stare at him blankly] are redundant, I want to throw a stone at Dr. Ruperto Sangalang for wasting our money with this priceless shit [vomit here]. Arrgh. What really pissed me off is that he confidently blabs in front of us that he will hide inside his freakin' nutshell [stand up here and stun him with intelligent words] instead of being among the 3 martyrs who were garroted by the Spaniards--a heroic act of these three Filipino friars. Whoah... talk about a professor who supposedly teaches 'Rizal' in SOSC 6. Arrrgh. My nose is bleeding. [now he's out]

He once discusses [insert joke here] that Rizal is the father of Mr. Bean--for a pointless reason of Rizal and Mr. Bean in the same location - UK. WTF??? I raised my hand and eloquently said "Mr Bean is fictional, and based on its storyline, Mr. Bean was exiled from outerspace. Just watch na lang the opening of Mr. Bean. How come you raise the argument of Rizal being related to a fictional TV geek?" He was stunned for not grabbing the audience for his wildly corny punchline.

And also: Should he ask himself that he has resemblance with Mr. Bean?

Ilang beses ko ba itong dapat barahin? (How many times should I stun him with my words?) Php 250 pesos times 3 units is worth to refund. Brr...

3. CISM 60 - Mr. Dreamboy

Well, I still can't forget when he wore his costume in their faculty presentation during their College of Engineering and Information Technology (CEIT) Day--a cowboy suit, a cowboy hat, and eew--headset??? Arrgh. That was so gross. Maybe he thought he looked cool wearing those. He was--err--never mind.

Anyways, he's one of the best IT professors in school. I'm doing great in my seemingly-integrated-for-capitalism Computer Information System Management (CISM) subjects. So great, they have even beaten my highest grades in my major subjects in Mass Comm. Maybe I'm not meant for journalism, eh? Whatcha think? I'm thinking twice already...

He has a lot of patience. He has a lot of patients--my classmates. Bwahahaha. I sometimes can't believe how 'technologically behind' my classmates are. But I can't blame them--our government has not subsidized our public schools for proper and adequate information system facilities for elementary and high school students. Why? My classmates told me they can't learn in a 1:50 computer usage. Talk about corruption. Maybe I was lucky enough to have my own PC. Shame on you, GMA and the rest of the presidents who've done the propositions and the promulgation of this bullshit Higher Education Modernization Act which has never modernized our submerging quality education.

4. News Writing - Mr. R2K

Ok. My gay classmates tagged him 'R2K'. Just recently I was pondering why the hell they called Mr. Ex-ABS Senior Manager one of Regine Velasquez's gooey albums. Anong konek? (What's the connection?).

Felix Bakat (sounds like 'Felix the Cat' but 'bakat' is meant for a big 'hump' on the crotch). Sheesh. He loves wearing tight jeans.

He is very kind. He is very generous. He is very jolly. He is a good instructor. He practically teaches what students should learn before going to any journalistic career. He told us once that TV stations like ABS-CBN or GMA needs more Tagalog news report proficient people than the coñotic English trying-hards. He provides what our dean cannot provide for our college. Thank God he's rich. I've learned so much from him.

Yet he's R2K. It distracts my classmates. I'm distracted by my distracted classmates. They are so lascivious.

5. FAVC 55 - Ikalimang Sang'gre

Om my god... I can't speak anything offensive about our respected 5th Sang'gre. Or maybe there is... she's so compassionate. Super compassionate. Super-duper compassionate. Plus she's kikay and comic.

We thought she is snubbish. But I guess her popping-eyes shall not be the cover to be misjudged. We simply love her. She loves Mass Com. Mass Com loves her. Awe.

Haste Live Sang'gre _i__tt_! (Long Live Sang'gre toot-toot)

By the way, she gave me the lowest grade in my CvSU history. Huhu. How retarded I am... I've been delinquent in her subject... I'm so mean... huhuhu...

6. CISM 65 - Ms. Idea

This doesn't mean she has a lot of ideas about the subject she supposed to teach. Yes, I underscore--supposed to teach. But what does she do? She writes everything on the blackboard, smile at us for 5 seconds and then asks "Any idea about 'this item'"? So we teach each other when we explain. Then when someone speaks of good word, she supplements it with her own EVENTHOUGH IT IS COMPLETELY CONTRASTING FROM THE REAL POINT OF THE ITEMS SHE ELABORATES. We're like fooling each other. Err... I don't get the real point of that method of teaching. Well, it might be an excuse since she's a newbie in teaching, teaching like she's reporting, and her sincerely innocent smile. She's cute when she smiles, though. But I'm pissed with her kind of orientation. What if someone explains in a far-off perspective then she proclaims "Tama yung idea niya?" (His idea is correct). What if mali (wrong)?

Additionally, if our classmates don't understand the explanation coming from those hand-raisers (usually me), this teacher responds "Ok. Kung 'di n'yo po maintindihan explanation n'ya, tanungin n;yo na lang po sa kanya para ulitin niya." (If you can't understand what he/she just said, ask him to repeat his/her explanation.) Brrr...

NEEEEXT!

7. Speech Communication - Mr. Theatre Actor

Her face... like an angels wisherwhisshing...

Ok. He/she really is so funny. So funny I can't imagine if you'll be in my place. He/she acts--overacts, then he reads--overreads, and then he/she explains--overexplains til our noses bleed. If you can't still picture out, read a poem in an old school ham Balagtasan accent. With noses enlarging. With hair dyed.

But we can't hate him/her. He/she loves Mass Com. We love him/her doing his own style. He's just being himself, not being pretentious, not being some smart-aleck of sort. Though sometimes he/she lapses in his knowledge about communication theories, we just enjoy his/her company during our speech lab. We enjoy every single minute we had activities or phrasing, intonation, etc. I'm currently enjoying perfect grades from him/her. Maybe I've been performing well. He loves my accent daw (he/she said). We love his/her barkada-type of relationship efforts. But honestly, he/she sometimes overdo it, like when he/she acts like a hiphop dude, a beggar or something. Umm, he/she sometimes looked nagmumurang kamatis (young-at-heart tomato).

We love his/her 'hello!' greeting with a prolonged raising intonation. h-e-e-l-l-l-o-o-o!, however. We love his/her generosity of buying us, only us, chichacorn (crispy corn) from Vigan. We simply can't resist him/her!

8. FOLA 1 - Mr. This is a what? What's that? Ah ok. Oh what are you writing?

He doesn't teach well. He still has to take education units. Oh my god--he simply shocks us when he teaches a certain portion of Japanese grammar then injects a trivial info without prior explanation. In short, he is confusing. I've been self-oriented with Nihongo before, and the way he teaches, my classmate would probably get no further than a meter of walking. He is scribbling his lectures. He does that and surprisingly insert this and then skip to the next level.

OMG... he's the brother of my former Technology and Home Economics in PCU-Dasma highschool years. Maybe he should consult him before orienting us how confusing it is to learn Nihongo.

We don't want to waste our precious Php 250 times three with self-teaching. I'm teaching myself Nihongo. I've downloaded Rosetta and Declan Japanese Flashcards. I support piracy. If this crap continues, I'd rather drop this subject and enjoy my Friday's with no classes at all. Whohoo!

Ok. That's it for the crap. I've enjoyed typing online. Whoa. Thanks to this Globelines Broadband which has been interrupting every 3 hours. Brr. Nice reading, Globelines for your super-wonderful internet experience.

Categories: Eskwelahan

THE ART OF LETTING GO

2006-07-02T11:48:00.001+08:00

Hwaaah! It's not! It's July already!

Whoohoo! Just kidding. I was drizzled with some sudden rainshowers perhaps.

Moving on...

This post is supposed to be sentimental and dramatic. But that would be unnatural.

---------

My Kuya told me that 'blogging is useless'.

What will you tell him, guys?

---------

I have a classmate who happens to be a die-hard Mariah Carey and Lani Misalucha. He (umm, slash 'she'?) does not have a complete set of Mariah's albums, but he would spend hundreds of bucks for me to download (and rip) Mariah Carey's . Our apartment (yup, I'm currently lodging in an apartment somewhere in a Barangay called 'Kaytapos') is not complete without any hums, chants, and, if worse, trances from our super extroverted classmate with 'distorted male version' tunes of Mariah's hits.

One time, he boasts for a friend (well, not exactly a 'friend') whom he arbored Mariah's latest album 'Emancipation of Mimi'. Not knowing what 'emancipation' means, I thought of making fun of Mariah. 'Constipation for Miki', I taunted. Since then, Never I didn't have any bruises of all sizes on my arms.

--------

Having such freedom from a certain aspect of our life would probably be impossible for those who've been struggling to get out of it for the past significant few years...
Read more...

Significant, I suggest, for being the benefactor of his improvement in terms of being knowledgeable, of being socially, informatively, and politically aware on his surroundings, of being courageous in handling situations of rights justification, of knowing how to write this correctly and how to confront people like that--and the like. It would be very hard for him to adjust to another enviroment where the things, tremendously big things, he used to do will be the worry of others. But it would give him another opportunity to at least pave a larger area in his larynx to inhale oxygen for the sake of his cardiorespiratory system.

Cut it out. It's simply me.

Yes. I've decided to figuratively 'calm down' and instead mold myself into a person away from obligations which I find apparently just obliged. Yes, these obligations of writing out-dated news, of writing unpublishable and archived feature articles, of writing pending culture articles, of composing multi-issued poems and some invisible short-stories, and of course, drawing comic strips and utilizing Photoshop for edited-out 500-peso bills and movie-poster look-a-like cover designs. And oh, don't forget the long-dued comic series which I am currently doing the final cuts.

Obligations which in fact formerly came out of my journalistic passion. Passion of eating Munchies and Boy Bawang just to keep myself awake while my hands are burning along the mouse trails on the desktop. Passion of attending meetings despite the hectic academic scheds intentionally drooled by our capitalistic university administration. Passion of not listening to my parents that your responsibilities as a student journalist is not helping me to get any healthier. Passion of meeting the deadlines set by our older staff. Passion of complying with the page limitations of our published articles. Passion of editing grammatical and typographical errors in our articles. Passion of giving almost everything from our own student self to the organization I objectively and unconditionally participated.

But now, my passion burns out.

I recall the time when I was teasing my former colleagues in the pub who left our org because of reasons like "hindi na umaalab ang aking apoy" (my flame stops burning). Maybe, I didn't understand their situation, for at that time I was assessing that their reasons were just 'excuses' or too shallow for us neophytes to understand. I admit, I was shallow, too when my blabbermouth personality wasn't controlled.

Now I understand.

Do you know the feeling when you are starting to make something, like story-telling to your younger sibling, and then suddenly you feel like you get distraught, leeched-out, and full of fatigue, then decide, "I'll sleep instead".

That's what I'm feeling right now.

It's not that I don't like what I'm doing in my publication. But perhaps the perception of 'apparently not wanting to like it" is what fits my current situation. It's really hard--to force me to do it but then I cannot comply to it.

Because of it, I think I cannot be a responsible student journalist. My being irresponsible is not what a publication wants.

Leaving a publication with reasons like 'the publication needs you' or 'who'll be left in the publication' is hard to argue. I raised this question:

"Does the publication need unfulfilling people like me who naturally fades out and disappears without further notice?"

It's hard for my publication to be with me. And I suppose it's hard for me to still be with them.

For a lot of reasons which I rather will not disclose. Unless you know/knew me very much.

Emancipation... freedom...

Ang sarap.

Like a butterfly coming out from its chrysalis.

Well, who wants to be inside a compressed environment isolated from television, internet access, and food? I'm not as stupid as those who want to achieve Nirvana.

----------

I will not, hopefully, leave the publication for good. I'm just dormant for now. People cannot force me at this moment.

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Late updates, as usual. I'll update as soon as I receive my allowance. You know, I haven't had 300+ peso weekly allowance for the past two weeks because of our financial problems. Whew, I didn't realize I survived.

Categories: Personalan

KARMA

2006-06-23T14:42:00.000+08:00

Arroyo rushed to Hospital

Now I have more reason to be converted to Hinduism.

Categories: Pulitikahan
Tags: Gloria Macapagal Arroyo

WHAT'S MY REAL EGO?

2006-06-18T01:42:00.000+08:00

I'm losing my identity.

For the past few weeks, I've been idle to this blog. For the past few months, I've posted articles with phrases "I've been idle" for 3 times already.

It's not because I'm too busy with my responsibilities in school I'm losing my grip to what I used to do in this blog. But perhaps the only reason I wanna stress out is that I'm stressing myself to keep on doing what I'm not comfortable to do anymore. I am thinking that being asiatic is distinguished in the articles that I publish in this blog, but rather babbles about my ordinary, and usually, extraordinary stuff in my college life. Yep. I'm trying to make an identity in this blog but the identity that I used to promulgate is already diminishing.

I think I'll be making an alter-ego of me.

I'm not what I used to be anymore. I rant about politics, I rant about mainstream media, I rant about my personal misadventures... is that really asiatic?

Identity crisis, for God sake. Why now? Is it because of our organizational dispute?

Maybe. Perhaps I still have to take another doze of brain vitamins for a week.

----------

I'm currently working on a new blog with the title "Estudyanteng Pinoy", presumably anticipating for a more cozy atmosphere of myself inside and outside school while currently enrolled in a semi-state university. O great, another blog again.

Apparently I'm tasked to finish my comic series for the so-called 'supplementary issue' of our student pub--perhaps another compromise to our organizational dispute of whether to stand corrected or just remain silent about the CvSU heckling incident.

Anger is not what I'm feeling right now...

I'm so depressed. I just can't demonstrate to my pub colleagues how sad I am right now--how frustrated I am right now. I can't seem to find a pacifying method of establishing an organizational issue which was, well, apparently left to be forgotten to dimwits. I guess, I'm calmed down already. I guess, I must continue working with my co-staffers to retain our pub as fortified as possible, not noticing its flaws for the past few months... Perhaps the only way to convince them is to show them how responsible I am regardless of these 'depressing factors' that changed my perspective towards them--not personally, but as a fellow Gazette editor.

I just feel sorry for them... and it hurts me so much--badly.

It's not plasticity, I underscore. It's empathy... it's procrastination. If the right time comes, I guest I need to contradict my intra-manipulation and voice out what I must voice out-- friendly and professionally.

For now, we must continue serving the studentry. For now, I must continue to serve the students in realtime--to serve using the methods other people have oriented me....

I must continue serving the people in my own way.

---------

I'll just announce if my new blog is ready. ^_^

Categories: Personalan, Eskwelahan
Tags: Extudyanteng Pinoy

ACADEMIC AND CINEMATIC APPRAISAL

2006-06-07T14:44:00.000+08:00

I missed my own self being on the roads of my school. I missed the times when my blockmates and I munch cheap hamburger and diluted iced tea (on a plastic bag) in an area we call "Batibot", a seemingly implanted earth-floored area between our still constructed 8-storey library and the canteen. Until know, I still don't know why the heck students and teachers call it "Batibot". I've never seen any Pong Pagongs and Kiko Matsings on the woods nearby the place except for a few human counterparts who sings Tagalog nursery rhymes.

Have enrolled to Cavite State University today without being baked my the borderline between summer and rainy season.

I wish I have my digicam soon. Can't camwhore since the time I wished to.

------

I got overloaded with 9 subjects. Subjects which 50 percent comprised none of my course's relativity.

Cavite State University, like any state colleges and universities in the Philippines apparently being less subsidized by Arroyo's administration, showed how monkey business exist in schools.

Summer classes.

We were obliged to take 2 subjects with 3 units each for the month of April and May straight. Subjects of their so-called Certificate of Information System Management, which can be taken in regular semesters, are included as pre-requisites in our new curriculum. Subjects of least priority, which are augmented with a 5-thousand peso worth of school fees. Too much for a state university to charge.

What the hell--for 2 subjects, we are suppressed to pay tons? Figuratively almost 70 percent of the total fees being paid for 23-unit semesters? If they insist students to take it on summer, why did they also include these subjects available to regular semesters? I've just enrolled to one, that's why.

Because of that, majority of my classmates were dismayed by the recent information. I was, well, laughing with disbelief when someone told me that she has registered with one of these summer classed subjects for this semester. I'm glad that I was too lazy to ride a one-hour jeepney just to study how to use Photoshop and edit videos, lessons that a mass comm student would require to take. Jesus Christ, I've been a Photoshop artist since highschool ^_^

They were envious that during the times when they have to wake themselves for their early 7 am classes, I am still sleeping.

And now, they are thinking that they have just flushed thousands of bucks with summer obligations like that. Regularly, we pay 10 thousand pesos (approx) for an average 23 unit semester. My classmates paid 6 thousand for their CISM60 amd 101 6-unit summer classes. I paid eleven thousand pesos for 24 units this semester, adding CISM 60 on my list.

See the freakin' difference?

They are pissed off with the situation. They tried to sourgrape, but I insist it's only an additional 3 hr-subject difference. They are pissed more.

-----------

I'm no moviegoer. Literally, I have entered cinemas only 4 times in my entire life. I dunno, I was just scared of the bedbugs or the yawnfest I might be getting when I accompany no one in the silver screen.

Thanks to Video City, I was able to watch piles of flicks. The most recent are 'Fun with Dick and Hane', and my currently most fave 'Memoirs of a Geisha'.

Fun with Dick and Jane is superbly hilarious. It's about a couple (Jim Carrey and an artist I don't bother remembering) who lived a glamorous life. Dick was promoted as VP for Communications, only to find out that his boss looted all their stocks to his personal bank account. The world laughs and blames Dick while his wife loves her so dearly I don't know the hell she doesn't complain too much about their financial situation which I nevertheless find so unreal. Eventually, the company was dissolved, and Dick and Jane became robbers-- crazy robbers that is. You'll just laugh while watching it.

Memoirs of a Geisha is... stunningly poignant. Wow. Amazing. No wonder the novel is a masterpiece. It's a 1900 something Japanese Cinderella, capturing the life and the emancipation of a blue-eyed geisha envied by her ugly (except Gong-Li) fellow geishas, who struggled to live her resistant yet persistent job compromising her one and only love. Zhang Zi Yi really is sexy. She kicked my heart out when she debut in the movie as the 'no. 1 geisha in the town', trancing on the stage. She danced on big heeled slippers while the rest is just astonishing.

Categoy: Personalan

CONVENIENCE OF A CONVENIENCE STORE

2006-06-05T15:02:00.000+08:00

If an airconditioned mini grocery store opens in our neighborhood or near your town / downtown / uptown (whatever), there would be 3 most likely possibilities.

It would be a regular 9 to 9 (or 10) pm shop, a 7eleven (or some unknowns), or a store built by some small players. Family business, I suppose.

Among these three, 7eleven's where I oftenly purchase goodies. Of course, my mom goes to those groceries because she has the bucks to afford so I'm the poor proletariat who frequently goes out-of-town too early or returns home too late. I'm the gooey who peeks out for open sari-sari stores for mini bites to munch on because typically, err, I wake up like Juan Tamad.

Why are these stores convenient?

People would agree to me that their first reason why commuters enter conveniece stores is because they want to make pabarya or cashing out or coining out big amounts of money for small expenditures. Small expenditures like buying cigarettes, candies, cellphone prepaid loads, tricycle or jeepney fares, and so on. Of couse, when my mom hands me out my allowance, expect that it would be 5-hundreds or thousands--fresh from the bank. For my own convenience, I usually purchase iced green teas or sparkling mineral waters while those red capped people on the counter frenzied by digging in their registers for 20, 50, or 100 peso bills. I'm so mean.
I don't know how but a lot of Filipinos are transposed to our traditional Filipino time. I am always late. Late waking and brushing myself up while forgetting to feed the worms in my stomach. It's good to know that at last--for 48 years--Indang, Cavite where my so-called Cavite State University is located, finally has a franchise of 7eleven for our own convenience. I love baked macs and hotdogs and micro breakfast meals. I was happy when they offered freebies to micro meals, like ice teas and stuff.
Actually, we have this municipality-proclaimed 24-hr store--sari-sari store, that is-- which offers typical Filipino items in retail prices. I used to go there because I can take a closer look at the sari-sari store owner's interiors. They's f*ckin' rich, but a sari-sari store.
For Fresh-air! These stores are open to everybody. So whenever you are waiting for someone and you don't want too many people to buzz you off with a hybrid of aromas from a variety of fast-food meals in Jollibee or McDo, 24/7 stores fit you with their offerings of some stainless-steel tables and chairs. Not to mention if the security guard is a hunkie or the saleslady is a hottie. ^_^Of course, don't let the staff to notice your objective. Buy yourself Mentos or a bottled green tea.
Of course, when I'm so freakin' late going home (because my employer-slash-director who lately had a blind item for his brash loud-mouthed character... har-har), I buy food. Not in closed Jollibees. Not in McDo's. Not in Greenwiches (all of which are located in Dasma Bayan [downtown]) but in 7eleven's.
Very appropriate for cramming people of the Philippines. When I need items in a hurry while sari-sari stores are still closed, 24/7 stores are just right for me. School supplies, tissue papers, drinks, and of course, energy drinks. I swallow a bottle or two of Bacchus or Red Bull everytime I feel insane of not sleeping for loads of work.
Diversionary tactic. If you want to hide, or just want to show you a busy doing other stuff, let your friends or colleagues see you entering one of these stores and pretend that you are looking for something. That would be convenient in case you don't want to enter fast-food chains.

And my last (but can still add up)...
Books and mags. Food. Toiletries. School supplies. Kitchen cleaning materials.

But there's one thing I really don't like in convenience stores.

Their items are so freakin' expensive.

Would expensive considered 'convenient'?

Maybe that's why they are open for cashing/coining out bills.

Take a wild guess.

Categories: Personalan
Tags:7-Eleven

CANVAS - Episode 3 (Alimpungatan)

2006-06-04T19:39:00.000+08:00

My very own comic series. Canvas.

Isn't it cool?

My own comic series about a girl who's not supposed to live in year 2006. Now, she is being dwelled by cute guys-- a university president's son, a snubbish flutist PhySci teacher, some caped guards, and a thousand miles.

Oh well, hope it'll not turn-out to be another sci-fi novel rip-off. ^_^ But I guess if people have read so much sci-fi stories, they might have clues to which lit work would have been my primary source.

Duh? I'm not fond of hifalutin literature. I love stereotypical Koreanovelas, Lord of the Rings, animes, and other usual stuff.

Details about my comic series (published in The Gazette) soon (that is, if we have something to publish ^_^)

Oh BTW, what's "alimpungatan" in English?

Categories:Personalan, Eskwelahan
Tags: Canvas

MANNY PACQUIAO - SPAMMING ADs - STILL COUNTING

2006-06-04T00:39:00.000+08:00

I've posted this before. And I've posted it again. Why?

Golly. Manny Pacquiao is an ad spammer. And he proves it once more.

You can see him clinching on your stinky smelly feet. You can see him punching your head and muscle pains off. You can see him inviting people to smack themselves to booze and festivity. You can see him on your bloodstream. You can see him digesting your fried chicken or tuna flakes inside your stomach. You can see him drinking milk and eating ice cream. You can see him wear his own sport apparel.

Now, he can force you to gulp a doze of hyperacidic tabs for a vinegar fortified with iron.

If you're a Filipino, you know exactly what I'm talking about...

You can see him here, there, yon, and everywhere.

He now endorses:

San Miguel Beer (whoah. among the chosen "highly-paid" few)

Alaxan (Ibuprofen|Paracetamol) tablets

Circulan 41 capsules
Magnolia milk
Magnolia ice cream
McDonalds
Darlington socks
Dolly tuna
PM Sports Apparel, and even (worse),
Pres. Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo. Now,
Datu Puti Suka (vinegar)

Jesus Christ ^_^;;

He's printed on posters, on leaflets, on banners, on tarpaulines, on billboards, pictures, on life-size full-body photoboards, on newspapers, inside clocks, on junk food wrappers, on your cellphones, on your cd covers, in your mp3 players, on your pirated cd covers, on dvds, in cinemas, on tv...

And in my blog.

Ok. He's popular. He's a heroic icon. He's a star. No, he's a celebrity. He's a superstar!

After winning that non-title Morales match preceeding with several triumphant matches, he has become an institution in the history of boxing, and of course, Philippine Sports. He established a distinct "Pacman" on the slates. No Tyson. No Velasco. Just Pacman.

People are just elated because of his popularity and his victory. People admire him, idolizing him, praise him, worship him (OMG... I'm overdoing it ^_^). ABS-CBN starts to pirate him and use him to promote their low-rated TV shows. He's so overwhelming, even Lito Camo composed a song for him. Oh bother. So nakakatawa (funny). What an effort of ABS-CBN.

Now, he's being abused by several advertisers, capitalist companies, and traditional politicians.

In the Philippines, no Filipino wouldn't recognize the names and faces of Kris Aquino (former Pres. Cory Aquino's daughter), Sharon Cuneta (the richest and highest paid actress whose husband's a senator), Vilma Santos (the most popular and the most awarded actress whose husband's a congressman), Angel Locsin (most popular sexy teen heroine actress) and of course, the Pacman.

Maybe such is the routine of too much popularity and prominence in the mainstream media. If you're famous, of fame which crosses the boundaries of the rich and the poor (and not so rich and poor), you'll be bombarded with lots of proposals, invitations, sponsorships, guestings, and the like. For fans even like the celebrities would idolize. Capitalists will, as the demand of the consumers is concerned, utilize it and abuse it, 'till all the juices are extracted from deep within their bone cavities. Now, they're doing it to Pacman.

Hope he won't fade out like Rod Navarrete. Hope he maintains his humility.

Does he?

Tag: Manny Pacquiao

I GOT SMACKED!

2006-06-03T23:23:00.000+08:00

Oh golly. I got smacked. Actually, I was kicked. ^_^

I appreciate italk2much's efforts of lambasting my blog. Huhuhu. Plasticity at my best.

It was kind of them to say nice things about my blog. One is that I was the ugliest creature they have ever seen in the entire cosmos, that I had the stupidest sidebars, that I had the unintelligble non-English poetry and prose and so on and so fort. Geez, it's so nice of them. They are so friendly. Hope someone would smack their website’s cheesy layout and bust their tried hard schmucking blast offs to stupid bloggers like me. Isn't it so nice?

I was hoping for real REAL smacking comments. But I guess some of these god-damned pretentious smacking personas really tried to make sense of proving their smacking prowess but then unearthly out of place, out of this world, and maybe, just to make fun of themselves. Well, they became famous because of that. Hehehe...

As they say, I have to do my best to improve my blog. Maybe because of being idle, I wasn't able to supply sensible posts for the past few weeks, perhaps? Or it's the reality that I'm losing my grip to reality for all the things that has happened to me. That would be a long story. Probably in that point, I absorbed their smacking. Since I'm a newbie blogger, I guess their smack is or would probably be constructive. Jesus Christ. ^_^ How is it hard for me to take it seriously? Because they are not serious?

But thanks to italk2much for talking too much anyway. I'm happy that they find time to patiently browse my site.

Yet it just reminds me of what has happened to my comrades about their reading of my precious blog, particularly about their hand-washing.

I was so disappointed, again for the nth time, for hearing that they were shot personally by my post and that it has questioned their benefactors' integrity, for teaching them how to be what they are right now—that I have judged their character simply with my post. That is, for playing safe in times that our publication should demonstrate and tangibly practice its principle and essence of 'serving the people'. Serving the people, by being coward?

I was so disappointed, again for the nth time, for their understatements that I was so shallow and so disrespectful for my post. Literally, I was vulgar. But does that really make sense? I should respect their decision 'daw'? And what I did is 'disrespectful'? Disrespectful for disclosing my frustrations online that I had co-staffers in our publication with the perspective similar to Mike Defensor? Haven't they realized my 'freedom of expression'? Or they were just ashamed that people would realize that they are disrespectful to my fellow comrades who participated wholly in the CvSU heckling incident, to the youth organizations similar to ours with the same advocacies, and to the rest of the people connected and related to our field? Or simply to Ate Tere? Ashamed that people would read their cowardice? Their playing safe? Fill in the blanks.

And then, they are condemning me for what I did.

Simple phrases.

I stand corrected. I did nothing wrong. I am not ashamed of my stand about the incident.
What about them?

Jesus. I haven't given them the layout. Each time I entered their office and upload the files in my CD, my CDs always jam. Never failed to always fail reading. Did it in our first meeting with the cutesy Tweety bird CD now without my awareness of its apparent whereabouts. Second when these people called for an 'important' meeting using a CD which I bought for 10 pesos, but then when I slammed in on the drive, it stopped responding. Everytime I upload the layout files, my files jam. Not once, but twice.

Isn't it 'divine intervention'? That 'someone' doesn't want me to upload the files to our pub's PC? That 'someone' doesn't want me to give them our magazine layout that contains none what our mag supposed to contain—our stand about the heckling incident? That mag that was begged to be encoded with a 'both-sided, super objective, over-the-counter' news analysis? Ok, both sides. Then afterwards, what?

They promised me to mail that news to me so I can edit it right away. Zzzz…

I have finished my freakin' layout. Ready to be uploaded. But now, our family struggles for money even for a 70 peso jeepney fare. Crawling for fetish poverty. Geez.

Categories: Personalan, Kompyuteran