"Modern-day" white man's burden

I saw this ad on one of the bulletin boards of one (Philippine) government office. I immediately asked my sister to take a picture of it. Why? Well, I was half-pissed, half-amazed. Half-amazed? Well, meron pa palang manifestation ng white man's burden nowadays. When, in fact, they are the burden. Yet they managed to boast about saving the rest of the world, when, in reality, they can't save their own.

Half-pissed? Obviously, as a Filipino, I feel like this is 1900s all over again. For me genuine help lies in the willingness not to boast of one's kindness. That it will not matter whether other people see or know that you helped. What matters is that you've gotten your goal across. To help. Without expecting to be repaid, without expecting to be wow-ed over. Without expecting good coverage and media mileage. (Such as this ad.)

Chinua Achebe said

in his book Things Fall Apart:

"There is nothing to fear from someone who shouts." p. 140.

"Living fire begets cold, impotent ash." p. 153.

"He has put a knife on the things that held us together and we have fallen apart." p.176

Remember Judy Abbott?

Judy Abbott

"The first Wednesday in every month was a Perfectly Awful Day--a day to be awaited with dread, endured with courage and forgotten with haste."
and
"PS. This is the first love-letter I ever wrote. Isn't it funny that I know how?"

-First and last lines in the book Daddy Long Legs by Jean Webster.

Of all the cartoons I have watched when I was a kid (Remy, Heidi, Romeo, Charlotte, Marcelino Pan Y Vino, Princess Sarah, Cedie, Ghost Fighter, Flame of Recca and others) and now as an adult (Barbie series: The Nutcracker, Princess and the Pauper, Mermaidia, Blues Clues, Dora the Explorer, Detective Conan, Slamdunk), I loved Judy Abbott (ABS-CBN Channel 2's title) the most. It's different and unpredictable. Yes, it's bad in a way that it encourages (by showing) a May-December love affair between guardian and his ward, Jervis Pendleton and Judy Abbott.

But, why not?

My friend and I were on the phone the other day (night, actually) when we talked about the cartoons (series and otherwise) we have watched growing up. Her brother, Harold, really knows every cartoon by heart. I asked, "Sino nga ulit 'yung naglilinis ng chimeneya? (Who's that guy who cleans chimneys again?)" Without a pause he replied, "Si Romeo." Oh, di ba? (FYI: Harold's twenty-two.)

Anyway. She told me that Judy Abbott, the cartoon series that I really loved (and miss), is actually from a book. The animated series I watched and loved as a kid was an adaptation after all. So I turned to the ever-ready-with-answers Google. There it was. Daddy Long Legs by Jean Webster. I immediately wanted a copy. I wished I can buy from Amazon.com directly. But I cannot. I am regretting my (and my parents') decision to not have a credit card.

From this day on, I promise to find a copy of the book though I have the PDF version already. It's just that... having a copy, as in a book copy, is better. It's easier to read. Basta.

Bookstores here I come!

Should I be an assassin?

If I'd name one of the semesters, in college of course, that I had the least time to read, it would be this one. So far.

Factors supporting my claim are:

1) I've bought/read some books just because they were required (Lord of the Flies, McDonaldization, Marx for Beginners).

2) I've only managed (Ha!) to borrow a book from a friend. (Things Fall Apart from Am.) And I have yet to read it.

3) I've bought only five books, using my own money. Downsize This! by Michael Moore, Gentleman's Agreement by Laura-something, A Trip to Quiapo by Ricky Lee, Line to Stroke: Art Techniques from Pencil to Paint by Paul Taggart and J.D. Salinger's Catcher in the Rye. Well, I have yet to pay for Chuck Palahniuk's novel Diary that I will get from a friend. (My mother paid for Lord of the Flies.)

4) And I have yet to read the Ricky Lee, and Paul Taggart books. (Nasira kasi yung pagkakabind nung Ricky Lee book. Tsk.)

5) I wasn't amazed with Catcher in the Rye. Yes, it had roaring and controversial reviews. Pero, wala talaga eh. Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold had more effect on me (I was in first or second year highschool when I read it) than Salinger's. Siguro it has something to do with the age I am/was in when I read the books.

It was Jecy who first told me that Salinger's "coming-of-age" book was read, or carried, by assassins and would-be assassins after their crimes or after being caught. Google provided me with case(s) in point: Mark David Chapman on John Lennon, John Hinckley Jr. on Ronald Reagan (failed), and Robert John Bardo on a certain Rebecca Shaeffer (failed).

So, after reading the book, should I be one of them? As I write (type) this, I have read the book for weeks now. And surprisingly(!) I don't find myself feeling so much hatred towards some person/event that can motivate me to kill, or inflict pain. Or find joy in thinking of such act/s.

This article on Catcher in the Rye talks about it (and the Beatles' songs in their The White Album) being "mechanisms of conrol" to motivate (negatively speaking) people, random civilians, into killing political/social icons. "Legend" has it that J. D. Salinger once worked for US Intelligence, specifically with the de-nazification (a code word alluding to the importation of high-level Nazi spies into the highest ranks of the American Intelligence Community under the auspices of Project Paperclip, the top secret operation which smuggled hundreds of Nazis out of Germany. These "reformed" Nazis were then given new identities, in time forming the core of the new U.S. intelligence, defense and aerospace establishments) of Germany. Wow. I love conspiracy theories.

Well. This mini-review of Catcher in the Rye (I say mini kasi I mentioned it towards the end of this entry) has brought to light, on/to me especially the controversy and the hype that came with it that must have led it into being a "cult-ish" publication. Thus, being labelled a classic. Or maybe, I'm not that of a good critic/reader, to like/appreciate this one.

Having read the book, and not liking/appreciating it, am I, now, a candidate for being the Assassin of the Year(s to come)? If I do become an assassin, I think I would not blame (or credit) this book. Maybe someone else's work. He he. And if that day happens *evil laugh*, you'll read about it in the news.

I think, as Ate Avic of San Cristobal tours once said (as we were traversing the dangerous terrain of the Sumaguing Caves in Sagada), "It's all in the mind."

Bell-buster: The Balangiga Bells

For those who haven't heard of the Balangiga bells, or their history, here it is, or a brief one:

During the American period (1901, to be exact), the natives of Balangiga, Samar "surprised" aka ambushed the American soldiers, killing many. The soldiers, in an effort at reprisal (a lousy one at that), stole (yes, they did) the bells (there were three; one big and two smaller ones) of the town church.

Now, after 107 years of that fateful day ("the ambush"), the bells are not yet in Samar (neither are they in the country) despite the government's efforts to "persuade" the (hard-headed) US Military. Presently, "the smallest bell is on permanent display at the traveling museum of the 9th US Infantry, now stationed in Korea while the two bigger bells are displayed at the Trophy Park at the F.E. Warren Air Force Base in Cheyenne, Wyoming".

Balangiga town mayor Viscuso de Lira said, “Our wish of getting back the church bells remain,” as he expressed belief that this could only be done through diplomatic way.

Mayor de Lira and, maybe, the whole town of Balangiga are still hoping (not wishing because wishes tend to be "impossible") to hear the church bells.

Kamown. These bells, old and rusty they maybe, signify the town's, and of Samar's, history. These bells signify that once in many battles have the Filipinos won against those arrogant military soldiers. Keeping the bells in their custody (and on display at their museums) shows how childish Americans are, in general.

They can't even give the bells back, for godssakes, when in the first place these bells belong to us. To our country. These bells are, for them Americans, just "war booty". But for the Samareños (and Filipinos) they signify/mean a lot. Not just military history. I know for a fact that these bells mean a lot to the town church, the parish, and the people (being the devout Catholics that they are).

And yet, after years and years of keeping these bells, they (Americans, the US Military at that) refuse to budge. Despite the "diplomatic" efforts to get the bells back, nothing. Goes to show how diplomatic the US can get. They don't.

Well, just a hunch. I think the US Military are not giving (or does not have the intention to) the bells back because in doing so would mean defeat. They were defeated by the natives (maybe, they were even gunless), who had no prior military experience, etc. So giving back the bells, now, would mean that they accepted that they were wrong. Na dati pa, hindi na dapat nila kinuha. Talk about power-tripping.

Bells, bells, bells. Kept or held on to by them people without balls, balls, balls.

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All facts and quoted statements are from: this article.

Sinok

Sabi ng Chem teacher ko nung highschool, si Mrs. Rubio, "Less talk, less mistake"

Sabi naman ni Ren sa blog entry niya na nabasa ko kani-kanina lang. "hindi rin sagot ang katahimikan, kailangan may sabihin kahit wala na nga talagang masabi, sulat lang ng sulat"

Dagdag pa niya, "Magsulat para may masabi lang, dahil pag dumating ang oras na wala ka na talagang masabi, kahit ang mga salitang wala ka nang masabi ay hindi na lalabas, hihinto na lahat at mawawala, parang"

Sabi ko naman. Less talk, less mistake ay pareho rin ng "Less emo-ish blog entries, less things, less thoughts to explain or to justify." Tama?

Pero minsan talaga, kahit hindi ka na dapat magsalita o magsulat ay napapasalita o napapasulat ka pa rin. Minsan kasi, kailangan lang talagang ilabas. Parang dighay (burp) lang. Pag hindi mo nilabas, nakakasinok.

Mrs. Rubio, I am saying less, compared to what I plan to or can say (which is more) kasi ayoko pong masinok. Bow. :)

Peace in the shadows

"But us, we found peace in the shadows

Long enough to see the monsters rise . . .

You left your thumbprint inside me now for months it seems

But mine only brushes your soft surface

And somehow, somehow it leaves me listless."


-0% Interest, Jason Mraz

Phenomenal Thursday Nights

I spend my Thursday evenings with 40-plus co-students listening to this tall forty-something wide-eyed sleep-deprived (I think) guy rant about Marx, Luis, and Catholicism all in one breath. For three hours, with no breaks at all.

This is maybe not your idea of a perfect Thursday night. Some find this boring. Some spend their Thursdays at home lounging around or at the streets (or bars) partying, as if Thursday is their Friday.

But for me, these Thursday nights are the "high" of my relatively uneventful school/university life. (If you're wondering what's my low, my answer in two words would be: Anthro One.) Aside from reports, ACLEs, quizzes, poem analysis, practical exams in Fencing, I don't really look forward to anything. Except for this class.

My professor (who I shall not name). He's like Joey De Leon/Tito Rod/Sir Esguerra rolled into one. He's funny and has that weird, uniquely Pinoy sense of humor. Plus, he's very, very smart (ask Peter Blau). when he's talking you'd know that he knows what he's talking about. And no matter how far-fetched (and nose-bleed causing) the concepts he's trying to teach us are, he'd find a way, an example to make you understand. Before you know it, you'd find yourself agreeing with him.

No, this blog is not about his greatness. So I'd stop here.

One of the many things he taught us is that we don't really understand what other people are going through perfectly, exactly. Because we are, simply, different individuals. We are shaped by our lived experiences, the environment we have, and the people we interact with.

Also, he told us, "The one you love is the one you have to set free." No, this is not a Joe D'Mango class. What he said basically is this: You don't own anyone. Even the one you love. So, let them free.

One more thing. Phenomenon. He said that for every person, there is that one defining moment called "phenomenon" which shapes, molds or forces a person to change. For my professor, his son is his phenomenon. When his son came into his life, he started thinking more about his health because he realized that he wants to see his grandchildren, suddenly.

As I walk the streets of Vito Cruz and Dominga, on my way home, I find myself thinking: What (or who) is my phenomenon? When is it coming or going to happen? Has it happened? Or is it happening now?



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*This is a cross-post from my Multiply page.

House-hold

"No one can describe themselves in ten words, why would we want to hear anyone else do it?"

-Olvia Wilde as Dr. Thirteen, House M.D.

New words to live by

From Mr. Gino Dela Paz:

1) Aspire to only post things that are inspiring. The world doesn't need more negative energy than it already has.

-You're not the first to tell me that, Gino. Pero, nonetheless, being the second makes the message all the more pressing and important. From now on, no more emo posts. :s

2) The less you spill about yourself the less you have to clean up in case of an online emergency.
-Okay. No more emo posts na nga.


From the Supreme fold of the Philippine Star:
thumb lashing - to be reprimanded through SMS
gr7 - less than "gr8" (great)
serial chiller - person who does nothing but bum
retox - to consume alcohol after a hiatus

Unusual.

Unusual ang style ng damit na ito.

Isa sa mga nakakatawang bagay na resulta ng isang Friend Day. Syempre, marami pang iba (mula sa ibang Friend Day) pero ito lang ang pwedeng picture-an. (Bawal sa Powerbooks eh).

Isang hapon, habang naghahanap ng board shorts si Ren para sa isang party na kanyang pupuntahan...

Am: Uy Ren, ayos 'tong damit na 'to.
Jecy: *nung makita ang style ng damit* (see photo above) Oo nga, Ren bagay na bagay 'to sa'yo. Unusual.

Hindi verbatim ang pagkaka-translate ko ng usapan between Am and Jecy kasi matagal na 'tong nangyari. :) If you want to see for yourself ang Unusual styles, punta kayo sa Rob Department Store. Meron doon. Madami.



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*This is a cross-post from my Multiply page.

To the girl who calls me Frankikay:

"Well, I haven't seen you in a while. You know I miss our talks, I miss your smile."
-Song For The Rich, Tristan Prettyman

For some, name-calling is a start of something bad or it's not a good way, or the way, to start a relationship. Be it a friendship or a romantic relationship. But for me and Janjan, it isn't.

Thanks to our History 3 prof (whom we call by the wonderful, endearing name of Shawie) I became Franky. Yes, Shawie-Frankie just like the Megastar and her Mega daughter. :) I forgot the whole story behind the name but somehow the name stuck.

Flashback: Janjan, Pauie (Raizel) and I, after the NSTP Bisitang Institusyon decided to call each other degrading names. Or rather, degrading forms of our true, normal names. I call Raizel "Pauie" and Janjan calls her "Paupau". Janjan calls me "Franky" and Pauie calls me "Franks". I call Janelle "Janjan" and Pauie calls her "Pare". Gets?

Anyway. Instead of hating the name "Franky" I tolerated it (despite the "truth" that it doesn't actually fit me like a glove). Just for the simple fact that it became some sort of bond between Janjan and I. That even though we are separated by two psywar-ring campuses (separated by miles apart) who tend to say they are better than the other, we still consider each other close friends. Or at least, I do.

If this is was Area Studies 101, our freindship can be called "crossborder friendship".

And just in case you're still wondering about the "kikay" part . . . that's from the Sagada fieldtrip. Justine called me "Kikay" and Janjan (I think she finds the name funny) sort of adopted it and formed a "neologism" (haha). Thus the name, Frankikay.


To You, Janjan:

Who still calls me Frankikay.
Who shared my dislike for Ma'am alam-mo-na before (kasi ayaw niya sa maingay)
Who liked, like me, to call people codenames (secretly, of course)
Who knows who Hannibal is
Who knows who all "our" Bestfriends 1-6 are
Who likes chismax :))Whose insightful (haha) blog posts I read,
Whose sister I call Wachel,Who is, by far, the youngest ka-batch I know
But certainly not the most childish,Who just celebrated her 18th birthday . . .

Happy, happy birthday!
May you find what you are really hoping, wishing and waiting for in the right time.
Always remember, just what I said before, you are maybe losing friends but "You're not losing me." :))

----------------------------------------------------
Janjan, alam ko long overdue na 'tong post na 'to. :) Naging busy lang. Sorry, and Happy Birthday.

Pantay(o)

Pantay(o)*
by Jo Ann Madarang

Sa unang tingin
maaari nating tanungin,

"Di ba't ang pagsulong ng ekonomiya
ay pagsulong rin ng nakararami?"


Isang masaklap na katotohanan:
Ang mga mahihirap, sa pulitika'y walang laban.
Pa'no maisusulong ang kanilang pangangailangan,
Kung ang mga pulitiko ay ayaw silang pakinggan?


Ating tatanungin, pa'no nga ba gagawing
ang pagsulong ng ekonomiya ay pagsulong rin ng nakararami?
Ang gobyerno, korupsyon, mga programa at implementasyon
Sa kanila nakasalalay ang tunay na pagsulong.


Laganap na korupsyon, nagdudulot ng kahirapan tiyak 'yon.
Ang gobyerno at pribadong sektor
dapat magtulungan, at may isang layon:
Maihatid sa mahihirap ang benepisyong hinintay ng maraming taon.


Hindi man maganda (sa pandinig) ang tulang ito:
sana'y nakinig pa rin kayo.
Tandaan: ang tunay na pagsulong
ay ang pagsulong na "pantayo".

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*This is my first poem in Filipino. I made for my Econ101 class under Prof. John Ponsaran. The topic assigned was pro-poor growth. 

Preparing for rain

"God saves the best for last, and the best is yet to come." -Pastor Oly

Waiting has its rewards but sometimes one cannot help but feel tired. More than being tired, one may feel hopeless that the wait is never gonna bear good fruits. Rather, the time one spent waiting is considered time wasted.

But as I listened to Pastor Oly last Sunday I realized the value of waiting. That good things comes to those who wait. That in moments you feel that time is being wasted on waiting, and not acting or doing something, you should pray and trust God that what He wants will be done.

Thus, my second favorite verse,

Hebrew 11:1 "Now faith is being sure of what we hope for, and being certain of what we do not see."

In the movie Facing The Giants, Mr. Bridges told Grant Taylor a parable of two farmers who prayed to God for rain. But only one prepared his fields for it. Mr. Bridges asked, "Who do you think deserved and got the rain he prayed for?" Grant replied, "Of course, the farmer who prepared his fields."

No matter how long I have to wait, I am assured that what I'm wairting for will come.

And, yes, God, I am preparing for rain.

Lots of it.

An SATC review: Another one bites the dust

Warning: Sex and the City spoilers ahead. Read at your own risk (if you have watched it already or have no plans to do so, read on).


Any TV series that makes a jump from the small screen to the big screen piques my interest, regardless of the show. The logic behind this: there must be something that the TV series did right for it to be made into a movie. Or in some cases the producers just push the series' popularity a bit too far.


Barks.


In all fairness to the scriptwriter/s of the movie, I never felt left out or OP (to use a 1990s jargon) while watching the movie despite the sad fact (I now realize) that I didn't even get to watch a single episode. (Why, you might ask. I can imagine the dialogue between my mom and I if she chanced upon me watching that show . . . Ma: O anong pinapanood mo? Me: Uh, Sex And The City po. Ma: Ha? Ano ulit?)
Anyway, kudos to the four women/actresses who played Carrie, Samantha, Miranda, and Charlotte. They're the Richard-Gere-Julia-Roberts-tandem of friendship movies. Well, what I meant by that is they have really good on-screen chemistry. They appear to be really good friends on-screen (though they must be in real life). Way better than what Eva and company are doing at Wisteria Lane. Also the guys who played Mr. Big, Steve, Harry, and Smith should be commended for such acting, minimal-yet-just-right. The girls are the bida, and the guys didn't outshine them, or tried to.


Hmm. The jokes are . . . grabe, nakakatawa talaga. Not slapstick, of course, but really funny in the uninhibited, natural sort of way. My Funniest Scene Award goes to (drum roll, please) Kristin Davis as Charlotte York when she did a number two, a.k.a. "poopsied" in her pants just because she drank a few drops of Mexican running water while showering. Natawa talaga ako 'dun. As in. (Though I didn't get what's with Mexico and contaminated food.)


I really really seriously love Charlotte's Asian adopted daughter (sounds familiar?) Lily. She's adorable. Partida, all her lines in the movie were merely one-worded comments or butt-ins except for this one time when she uttered a sentence. One simple sentence! Something like, "There's mommy" or "Mommy's here" or something to that effect. She makes the scenes, in which she's in, playfully funny. She is definitely the fifth SATC girl. (Note: It turns out twins Alexandra and Parker Fong alternately played Lily. So fifth and sixth SATC girls. :P) And because of her (err, them) and the aforementioned factors, I love Color and the City. Gets?


Bites.


There is one hole in the story/script though. What I didn't quite get was the Mr.Big-running-away-from-the-wedding part. Tell me, can a guy not be married just because he's afraid (really now) to get out of the frigging car? Come on. He's not even a first-timer I-do-er (haha, nice term). Already on his third wedding, he's actually a veteran, for goodness' sake. Lesson of the story # 1: Always keep your phone within an arms reach at your wedding. Lesson # 2: Let the groom ride a less comfortable car, that way he'll be itching to get out of it, the first chance he gets.


Another sad sad thing is: watching the Philippine version of the movie was like watching a pirated DVD copy of it. It effing jumps, mehn. My sister rarely spotted the jumps and cuts (except for one, the part when Samantha was supposed to peek/watch while her neighbors are doing the deed then *poof* she's suddenly sitting in the living room, waiting for Smith) but having been taught by Sir Joey in Comm2, these glitches didn't go unnoticed. The movie had a handful of cuts that it bleeds.


Grabe naman, Ms./Mrs. Laguardia (I hope I got her name right). Please choose which films do deserve your cutthroat discipline (pun definitely intended) and which do not. Sayang kasi. I hope the DVD version (orig, opkors) will be literally uncut. Not because I'm some hot-blooded pervert easily turned on by these scenes but because I went to the cinema expecting a full, whole, unglitched version of the movie. No scene-jumping, please.


It wouldn't be titled  Sex and the City if it contains no "sex", right? Common sense people. And why would a parent let her child or anyone for that matter watch such a film without expecting sex scenes. Kaya nga sa title pa lang may warning na. Sex and the City. No subliminal messages there.

Make It Mine

Wake up everyone
How can you sleep at a time like this
Unless the dreamer is the real you
Listen to your voice
The one that tells you to taste past the tip of your tongue
Lip and the neck will appear

I don't wanna wake before
The dream is over
I'm gonna make it mine
Yes i... i know it
I'm gonna make it mine
Yes i'll make it all mine

I keep my life on a heavy rotation
Requesting that it's lifting you up
Up up and away
And over to a table at the graditude cafe

And i am finally there
And all the angels they'll be singing
Ah la la la ah la la la I la la la la love you

I don't wanna break before
The tour is over
I'm gonna make it mine
Yes i...i know it
I'm gonna make it mine
Yes i'll make it all mine

And timing's everything
and this time there's plenty
I am balancing
Careful and steady
And reveling in energy that everyone's emitting

I don't wanna wait no more
No i wanna celebrate the whole world
I'm gonna make it mine
Because i'm following your joy
I'm gonna make it mine
Because i... i am open
I'm gonna make it mine
Yes i... i'm gonna show it
Yes i'm gonna make it mine
It's mine...
Yes i will make it all mine

A new song by Jason Mraz

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YEHEY. May bagong album na siya. We Sing. We Dance. We Steal Things.

It's Hooters not hookers

Hooters

While everyone is blogging about David Cook's recent American Idol win over fan favorite and uber pa-cute David Archuleta, I'm blogging about an entirely different thing.

Hooters Manila recently opened (April 28 to be exact) at Building D of Mall of Asia. If not for Carl Hiaasen's witty, funny and unique-bordering-on-the-weird novels on Miami, Florida I wouldn't have come across with this infamous restaurant.

To cut a long story short (and this blog entry shorter), Hooters or the idea of sexy waitresses--who are chest heavy according to Paolo Lorenzana--serving greasy food (focusing on the male clientèle, obviosuly) first emerged in 1983 at Florida.

So, how did this, well uh, groundbreaking restaurant reached the Philippine shores, miles away from Florida? Thanks (or no thanks) to Eric Gutierrez, who I think is formerly connected with FHM.

And as expected, Catholic and Christian groups announced their, well, denouncement of this establishment. Highly because of its vulgarity. It's another crack at the only-Catholic/Christian-nation-in-Asia image image of the Philippines. And before Hooters starts attracting (Catholic, Christian) customers, bishops or whoever doused the fire with water. The adage, "Prevention is better than cure" has taken on a much serious meaning, in this instance.

In all fairness to the "Delightfully tacky yet unrefined" waitresses and Mr. Eric Gutierrez himself, they're neither trying to promote a filthy club nor an escort service nor legitimize prostitution in the country. They are, let's face it, merely adding a "visual" element to the thing we Filipinos love to do: eating. And Hooters protect their waitresses by having bouncers aka security personnel on standby in case "some inebriated ignoramus" gets carried away by the waitresses' soft teasing. 

I'm not actually against Hooters nor I am endorsing people to go there (except for the food, which I heard are guiltily delicious. I have yet to try it.). I see at as another change our society, our culture encounters and needs to adapt to, sociology-wise.

Adapting does not mean embracing with all arms (a.k.a. to patronize). Adapting means changing some of our views on im/morality. This new concept (of having a good time and not taking everything, and yourself, too seriously when eating which Hooters boasts of) that translates anywhere "needs to be gobbled up" or if you don't want to, well, at least respect it. We all have preferences, remember.

I just wonder with the arrival of a restaurant such as Hooters to the uber-conservative shores of Manila, "What will come next?" My Sociology professor was right when he said that, "Nothing should surprise me (or us) with this generation, in these times."

Darkness

When does a candle shine the brightest? Always in the dark.

Shuffle.

Want to know the brand of music I listen to? Read on.

There's this game/quiz I got from an "online buddy" (hehe, hanep talaga ang relationships sa Multiply). Here are the "rules": 1) You put whatever music player you have on random (a.k.a. on shuffle, which btw I usually do); 2) Post a line from the first 30 songs that play, no matter how embarrassing the songs are; 3) Post and let everyone you know guess what song and artist the lines came from; 4) Strike out the songs when someone guesses correctly; and 5) No cheating.

1. I try not to rely, not to rely on the perfect line. 
2. Every night she walks right in my dreams since I met her from the start.
3. I can't believe this pain, it's driving me insane.
4. Don't be afraid, in your heart you'll find a way.
5. Making love to you was never second best. #tooeasy
6. Lately we're running out of time, aren't we? 
7. The space between what's wrong and right is where you'll find me hiding, waiting for you.
8. Whenever I see your smiling face, I have to smile myself because I love you. Yes I do. #tooeasy
9. Turns out everything I say to you comes out wrong and never comes out right.
10. Kudos to those who see through the sickness.
11. Every color and every hue is represented by me and you.  #tooeasy 

12. You tell me to get a life, do you understand the weight of that line?
13. And I would never let somebody bring you down, or take your crown. Never.
14. My Lord I have You to thank, You watch over me and hold my hand.
15. You love me but you don't know who I am.
16. Someday you'll find me calm beneath the landslide. #gleemusic
17. If you're thinking of being my brother, it doesn't matter if you're black or white. #tooeasy
18. Went on a walk inside your head the other day and I couldn't believe a word I heard you say.
19. Hey mom, why didn't you warn me . . . about boys? #sotrue
20. Pardon me, I just can't help staring at you.
21. Too many walls have been built in between us. Too many dreams have been shattered around us. #PauAndJan
22. We find peace in the shadows long enough to see the monsters rise.
23. Ako'y nandirito pa rin para sa'yo. Hindi mo lang alam.
24. I wish that every kiss was never ending.
25. Everbody's dressing up, I'm dressing down.  #LagiNaman

26. I put my life in your hands.
27. Get real and see the beauty in ugly.
28. I don't know why I can't keep my eyes off you.
29. It must've been love but it's over now. #commonknowledge
30. But when I see you, it's like I'm staring down the sun. 



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*This is a cross-post from my Multiply page.

Pointless writing

"Writing is turning one's worst moments into money." J. P. Donleavy

I can't remember the first time I wrote well. What I mean is, the first time that I wrote something that really expressed what I wanted to say at that moment has been lost to me, and my memory. I didn't even know I wanted to write, just as I'm doing now. Nor do I remember the time I realized that I had the talent(WTF?!) and the guts to write what I wanted, because honestly I didn't thought many would read them.

I admire many writers. They're like the most brilliantly creative people for me. They make the most mundane and silly things sound larger than life, when, sometimes, they aren't.

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"Style is but the faintly contemptible vessel in which the bitter liquid is recommended to the world." -Thornton Wilder, The Bridge of San Luis Rey

A book I really wouldn't read if not for Hum1 purposes. It was definitely hard to find, and Prof. who, by the way, introduced me to many brilliant writers) wanted us to have an original copy to read from (or better yet, to own) because abridged versions are, well, abridged. Honestly I don't know the point of this blog entry, and why I'm writing it. So before this gets brilliantly un-creative, I'll stop. Now.