Puckering Time

For the past weeks I’ve been the busiest person inside the house, doing a very daunting task called bumming. My usual morning begins at around 7 am then after doing some morning ritual inside the bathroom I proceed to start guzzling coffee alongside switching on the radio for my daily dose of no-nonsense comic attacks thanks to Nicolehyala and Chris Tsuper after which breakfast would be served, and depending on my energy level I would either go biking or drag myself inside my room after eating breakfast. There’s nothing to do basically because everything’s passed on to the house helper, and I wouldn’t want to attempt assisting her because I’m such a klutz and Pyrex is expensive. So what my sister and I do is to sit and wait for something momentous to happen. It’s like Waiting for Godot except that the long wait has finally come.

I wasn’t expecting that I would be loaded this much. For the month of May we would be having a series of vacation trips to different parts of the universe, and three of the itineraries include Batangas City, Pangasinan, and Nueva Ecija. And maybe this is high time for me to file my long-awaited leave of absence in Blogger – make that indefinite leave of absence because I wouldn’t want to preempt anything thus jeopardizing all that is planned. I prefer to call my vacation leave as such and not that word hiatus because the latter is contextually misused for the time being, and I hate the idea of misinterpretation. Anyway, even if I’m virtually away from the blogosphere (and before my LOA become officially effective) I have prepared a list of things to consider for myself and my contacts.

1. Being in LOA doesn’t mean that I will totally excommunicate myself from the blogosphere. Occasionally I would visit your respective blogs and leave a mark of existence.

2. There is no grand assurance that I will make a come back within the next months.

3. It is also possible that you can spot me at the Alabang Town Center during my vacant times. I usually hang out near the fountain area and the soaring palm trees early in the afternoon. I don’t stray as far as Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf because my friend and I have had a bad history with them.

4. In the event you have seen me cross your line of vision, you can yell my name in public. I’m serious. I have mulled this thing over, and I have considered the consequences. Besides, I’m all for freedom of speech.

5. I’ll try to be nicer to people once I get back to blogging. I remember one topic during the iBlog3 that a blog’s content should have a burning passion and not just to rant, rave, blah blah. But what if my burning passion is to rant and rave, and to make other people’s lives miserable by just talking to them?

Then again, changes may occur without prior notice. See you.

Movies. Hmmm. The last movie I saw on the big screen was The Grudge 2, Japanese version. I'm not kidding. Then I was required to watch a feminist movie at Shangri-La, and I'd proudly announce that I went to see Ang Tanging Ina. Come on, I need you to laugh - do I have to tickle you? But since I was tagged by Jhed, and I'm a fine one to talk to, I'd share a little bit of my choices according to categories.

1. Name a movie that you have seen more than 10 times.
Resident Evil with Milla Jovovich and Michelle Rodriguez. This was way back around four, five years ago, and I see to it that I watch this movie at least twice a day. In VCD of course because attempting to do so in theaters would require big mondo bucks. "Severing the top of the spinal column, or a massive [something, I'm not sure] to the brain are the most effective methods." "You mean shoot them in the head?" "Why do you have to kill them?" Ooops, sorry.

2. Name a movie that you’ve seen multiple times in the theater.
The Eye. I saw it for like six times. For some reasons or so whenever that girl enters the elevator, that blasted old man floating in mid air made my heart pop out of my nose. And that moaning lady in the hospital. F*** you!

3. Name an actor that would make you more inclined to see a movie.
I know it's corny, but I'm willing to pay more than what I can afford just to see Jim Carey's new comedy films. As long as he could still make me laugh.

4. Name an actor that would make you less likely to see a movie.
Owen Wilson and his very profound nose - is that his real nose, or is that a nose in the first place? It's very distracting.

5. Name a movie that you can and do quote from.
"I chose not to choose life. I chose something else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who need reasons when you've got heroin?" - Renton from Trainspotting. I just love it. Makes perfect sense.

6. Name a movie musical that you know all of the lyrics to all of the songs.
High School Musical. Like, duh. It's everywhere, and I don't even have to buy the soundtrack because I'm pretty sure someone would burst into a song number in the middle of the traffic.

7. Name a movie that you have been known to sing along with.
See number 6. HSM is very contagious. Why? Because we're all in this together...

8. Name a movie that you would recommend everyone see.
TransAmerica. Curse my Gender and Sexuality subject, I'm always haunted by this movie. It's all about a guy (Tiffany Huffman who sure looks like a man with her facial features) who wants to have his sex changed because he believes that he is trapped in a wrong body - transgender or transexual, I'm not sure. He is abandoned by his wife, and his son works as a prostitute for a living. The father slash mother and his son gets to meet in flesh, but the latter doesn't know that the guy who looks like a real lady is his dad. I don't know why I'm telling the story. Just watch it.

9. Name a movie that you own.
You mean, a copy of it. So Close, And Death Becomes Her, Smallville, The Beautician and the Beast, and Enemy at the Gates. So make that movies not movie.

10. Name an actor that launched his/her entertainment career in another medium but who has surprised you with his/her acting chops.
Beyonce Knowles, would she suffice?

11. Have you ever seen a movie in a drive-in? If so, what?
No, and you have to make it clear next time what drive-in means.

12. Ever made out inside a theater?
That is so pathetic. Hello people, have you ever heard of bedroom?

13. Name a movie that you keep meaning to see but just haven’t yet gotten around to it.
Cheap Filipino comedy flicks. Sometimes I just want to shut my brain and enjoy these things, but I can't find the right time to do it.

14. Ever walked out of a movie?
No, because if I ever had the idea of walking out (or if I hear comments from people doing such crazy acts), I wouldn't even watch the damn movie in the first place.

15. Name a movie that made you cry in the theater.
Not in the theater, inside the house. Mute Witness. It was so freakingly cathartic you wouldn't even care to use your friend's shirt for your snot-filled nose.

16. What’s the last movie you saw in the theater?
See introductory remarks for details.

17. What’s your favorite/preferred genre of movie?
Horror and suspense. I love the way caffeine works inside my body, especially when you see that zombie with an axe buried on his skull from The Night of the Living Dead lurching ahead of you. Then I get paranoid in the evening.

18. What’s the first movie you remember seeing in the theater?
The Lion King. Don't ask why.

19. What movie do you wish you had never seen?
Nothing, because I only watch those films I want to see.

20. What is the weirdest movie you enjoyed?
Dead Alive (also known as Brain Dead). It's gory, disgusting, scares the hell out of me, disturbing, inhumane - take this thesaurus away from me. It's really gross.

21. What is the scariest movie you’ve seen?
Dead Alive. And The Night of the Living Dead, The Dawn of the Living Dead, Sleepwalker, Sleepy Hollow. Again, make that movies not movie.

22. What is the funniest movie you’ve seen?
Dracula: Dead and Loving It, And Death Becomes Her, Addams Family Values, The Hot-Chick.

I'm not fit to do a movie review so if you want to know about these flicks there are a few possible options: a) rent a DVD copy of the movie you think is interesting, b) go to Quiapo, and I wish you good luck, c) search for the title in YouTube and take a good view, and d) Google it up.

As Friedrich Nietzsche so cleverly put it, You perfect the art of sleep by staying awake. There’s nothing more like catching very serious z’s. Why, it’s the only leisure I could afford to have on a daily basis, and it’s for free. Aside from deadly schedules which I have to religiously track down, nothing can hinder me from gluing myself to my pillows. And since it’s already vacation time I have all the freedom to indulge.

Sleep takes about one-third of our lives. In my Psych 101 class I found out that there are different kinds of sleep, all of which varies greatly in degrees. The first being the most superficial kind are known as alpha waves. These happen during those mind-numbing instances in school when teachers seem to have intimate chitchats with the blackboard or simply having their daily dose of monologues. Alpha waves occur when you feel relaxed or drowsy. If you entertain the temptation to let your fluttering eyelids close entirely on their own it is highly likely that you immediately enter the hypnagogic state. During these brief moments of rest our awareness to the external world decreases, and it’s also a transition between wakefulness and sleep. I am reminded of that song by Imago Idlip with the lyrics that go, Neither awake nor asleep/Dwell somewhere in between/Neither someone nor something/Be it life alone/I walk it like a park/Half-real, half-fantasy – this song perfectly fits my experiences with my English 11 class. I could hardly keep myself up; my eyelids couldn’t actually resist the pull of gravity.

If you go on unperturbed for the next 10 minutes you are now in Stage 1 of sleep, after which you enter Stage 2 that lasts up to 20 minutes, then to Stage 3 and 4 – also called deep sleep - lasting for 40 minutes. So that’s already 70 minutes of slumbering on your seat; your classmates could be laughing at you at that very moment. You better try waking up now because your teacher might be aiming that board eraser on your skull. But then, these are the exact moments that people might find us difficult to rouse, and I’m pretty sure they don’t want to be the objects of displacement for your rage once you have waken up from your sticky slumber.

Then we also have what we call as REM sleep. For those who have just been born a few minutes ago, REM stands for Rapid Eye Movement. (And yes, it’s a name of a band with front act Michael Stipe) REM stage is when dreaming occurs. I haven’t actually observed someone sleeping for more than an hour but according to reports, when people are in this stage their eyes move very rapidly like they seem to be following the bouncing ball on karaoke song lyrics, thus the term REM. If you’re afflicted with narcolepsy you may find yourself sleeping in no time flat just about anywhere, and the thing is you immediately enter REM stage. Imagine, you’re engaged on a talk with your would-be girlfriend; you’re about to swear undying love to her. You are telling her all the sweetest things in life that in a few minutes ants swarm upon the two of you. She is on the verge of saying the heart-warming Yes but then suddenly you fell on a swoon, and you managed to use her lap on a dual purpose: as a pillow and as a bib to catch your viscous drool. Oh, narcolepsy runs in the family so maybe you could blame your ancestors for getting yourself dumped.

On the other hand, I had a very great 14 hours of sleep from Monday’s night. I slept at around 9 pm and I woke up quite earlier than others – okay, noonish. I had my not-so-inviting brunch consisting of one whole loaf of Gardenia Ubelicious and Cheesy…Swirls(?), a bowl of cream of mushroom soup, and tossed salad. Of course my day wouldn’t be complete without coffee, and as always I had guzzled more or less four cups of the drink. Around 1 pm I laid down on my bed and before I knew it I was dozing off to sleep again. Then my phone rang – somebody’s trying to disturb me. I checked out the time. It was 6.24 pm. We had dinner around 8 pm, and lights went out around 10 including mine because I can’t sleep with the lights on. So that’s roughly around five hours of being awake and 19 hours on soporific state. Loved it.

(Source: Santrock, Psychology)

There were at least three words that came up during the iBlog3 that caught my attention and became my favorites. As a Speech Communication major I can’t help but notice peculiarities, especially in pronunciation.

1. Organization n. a group of persons united for some purpose

2. Reputable adj. having a good reputation; well thought of; respectable

3. Content n. what is contained in anything; what is written or said; facts or ideas stated

The third one being the most popular due to some ambivalence as to what was being used in certain contexts. If you were listening carefully you would mind noticing them.

***

“The trick to drinking is to enjoy the taste. Don’t swill the liquor like an idiot, unless it’s some awful rotgut or your life is so miserable you wish to feel instant oblivion in which case, good luck to you.” – Jessica Zafra, Emotional Weather Report

From the SE Auditorium all eight of us – in random order: Irvin, Kevin, Hener, Aaron James, Ian, Billycoy, Jhed, and me – repaired at Drew’s, but prior to that not a single soul knew where to go, and since it was too early for us to go home we decided to flock over at Drew’s in Katipunan. I occasionally go to Katipunan, but unfortunately Drew’s is totally unheard of. I mean, yes, I’ve heard it once or twice but I don’t know where it is. Somebody suggested that Drew’s is near Max’s. So we got down at Max’s. Drew’s wasn’t there. We asked for assistance from a fish ball vendor; we presumed that the hawker knows all the bars in Katipunan. I asked Manong Fish Ball, but he didn’t respond right away – the creaking of the rusty gears inside his nutcase was loud enough to be heard. Nada. Then Jhed approached a security guard at a certain condominium. Niente. Hener had a brilliant idea to walk towards Chiggy’s and Cantina. We trailed along. At the exact right turn from Shakey’s we found Drew’s.

So there we were. All eight of us. There were other inhabitants present in the bar, and they all looked like either from that school in front of McDonald’s or the school beside that school in front of McDonald’s. We ordered two Bola platters and two beverages, liquor, alcoholic something, whatever you call it. One looks like lime juice and the other resembles a pitcher of full of bile. They tasted very great, and in no time people started to act in a bizarre fashion. I wish I had a videocam to eternally capture the bacchanalia we’ve engaged in so that they’d be able to see how they evolved from one species to another. People who weren’t so vocal became gabby, and we discovered who among us has a low tolerance for alcohol. Then Irvin and I noticed someone exuding gushing torrents and rivulets of sweat to think that the place isn’t that warm (Clue: he was right in front of us, sitting in between Aaron and Hener). We had a hard time convincing Ian to swig just one shot of that not so limey lime juice until after an hour or so he finally had the courage to face his greatest adversary, peer pressure. Or alcohol. I, on the other hand, took quite some time to feel the earth swirling. They were taking chasers, but I didn’t.

The one good thing about drinking with intellectuals is that topics don’t usually stray from our interests, and we don’t end up hurting each other with projectile shot glass, ashtrays, or worse, clenched fists hurtling towards each other’s direction. Topics dwelt on work, advertising, salary, school, the correct pronunciation of Le Coeur de France, bitchy people from the media, among other engaging matters. At which point I was staggering but people didn’t seem to notice, and I’ve had good conversations with people whom I have only met online. Half the time during the summit I was the quietest person among the group, as if I don’t exist from reality. Sometimes I just want to shut myself up and just listen to people. It helps because I get to know them better even if I don’t get to converse with them. It’s not that I was afflicted with another case of indifference or irascibility, I was merely trying to connect myself.

Because our parents were in some psychological dilemma Ian and I left Drew’s ahead of others around 8 pm. He could attest that I was a bit talkative while we took the way going to the LRT station. Actually I forgot what I was telling him because I was really out of kilter. Then at the MRT I regained half of myself. Ian went down at Ortigas and he looked rather bedazzled as to where the exit was. I arrived at Taft Avenue round 9.30 pm, and I was going down the stairs when suddenly the steps began to disappear, and I barely missed slipping and landing on my butt. I immediately grabbed the chain on my left that served as railings and immediately sustained balance. I was actually hoping that I could catch a nap but I worried that I might go past my destination. I arrived at our house at exactly 10.30 pm, and felt like hitting my head with nails.

0925: A moderator called our attention telling us that the program’s already started. We entered the SE Aud, find ourselves seats, and tried to listen to Abe Olandres. I’ve been hearing his name for quite some time, but honestly I haven’t read him yet. I’m also wondering whether he was the one mentioned in Twisted 1, with a son named Jeff. I guess a lot of guys are named Abe so there’s one in a million chances that it could really be him.

Around 10++: Anton Diaz talking about photoblogging. At the end of his presentation he asked the audience that if it deemed possible, we could try dropping by at his blog site and give a comment about his presentation.

1020: Oh my gosh, it’s Manolo. I read his column in the PDI, although that was way back a few months ago because I couldn’t find time to slouch and read the papers these days. I was very impressed with him, much more with the way he handled the topic on politics. “I’m a Mac user,” he exclaimed while trying to figure out his way on a PC.

1055: Break time. I was so satisfied with those two cinnamon rolls and a Plus! Apple juice – I was thinking of going back to the booth, asking for another heaping amount of the comestible. (That’s called I-R-O-N-Y.) Raisins and cashew nuts are not in my favorites list. For something entirely unrelated, I saw Irvin.

1110: A talk about podcasting by someone whose name I forgot – was it Wilson? (His name isn’t included in the program) He managed to proceed talking about the Long Tail phenomenon, something related to marketing and economics. I didn’t quite get it, and I feel sorry for myself – I have limited knowledge about those things.

Around 1140: I was literally perked up with Aileen Apolo because she talked as if she’s a friend to everyone. I like those kinds of people; I feel like doing them something in return. She gave gift packs (gift packs?!) courtesy of Google every time a member of the audience got to answer questions related to, well, Google. If I were just near the microphone I could’ve howled the answer.

Around 1210-1245: The prosumer guy, Norman Agatep. If I’m not mistaken he used a Mac for his presentation because there’s nothing like those animations in Windows. Mr Agatep read everything in his presentation. No offence to the guy but I wished he just included key points for his PPT, and explained those concepts a little further on his own. Anyway, after he shared important details it was followed by an interactive question-and-answer portion.

1245: Lunch break at the Grandstand. We had meatballs and some sort of vegetative stuff which was sad because I don’t like meatballs swimming in ketchup. Kevin said that the Friday event’s lunch was much better than what we had that day. (They had porkchop, I think) After a pretty silent lunch, we got down the Sunken Garden grounds, and took pictures.

1330: The summit resumed with Alecks Pabico of PCIJ. He sure looks like Joey Ayala with that dramatic beard and long wavy hair. It was about investigative journalism, and I see now why journalists are favorite targets of hired killers. Based on his stories, the feeling of being a full-blown serious journalist must be hellish.

Around 14++: I feel like the kidney stones of Angelo Racoma of Blog Herald were transferred to me. I understand that being in such a condition would definitely sabotage one’s mindset especially of you’re an invited speaker for an event like iBlog3 – people would be expecting something from you. But then the universe has its own sense of irony to irk us, and half the time we can’t do anything about it.

Around 1430: Malou Mangahas with her version of investigative journalism and blogging. The need for a PPT presentation was out of question for she was such a great speaker. She could substantiate all the information she’s giving out to the audience, plus her spiels were funny and arresting. She mentioned something about the rights of journalists and bloggers, that if the former gets to be sued for libel cases it would be fair to apply the same to the latter doing libelous posts. Of course she’s kidding. I hope so.

1505: Fifteen-minute break with an egg pie and another Plus! Apple juice. All that I can say is that the egg pie is cute inside the package. Then I got to see Hener and Billycoy in flesh. They look like normal individuals.

*I’ll go fast-forward.

1530-1700: A very short but interesting talk about blogging for career by Marc Macalua. His black-and white presentation matches the way he handles the audience. Then it was followed by another Mac user Jayvee Fernandez in pink shirt and preppy pants. He almost went without the visual stuff because his MacBook didn’t quite seem to cooperate. Even the Apple Remote was a disappointment. (Macs are, sometimes, choosy creatures. They would refuse orders to have a platonic relationship with LCD projectors. I haven’t actually experienced such a disaster basically because I don’t use my Mac for PPT presentations in school.) Manolo, Aileen, Malou, and Jayvee were so far the best speakers of the event. After a lively discourse on professional blogging, Gail Villanueva went to share something about blog popularity. Her blog, Kutitots.com has good contents, and like the other invited guests, she’s making moolahs from this.

Afterwards, group picture taking, then we’re off. These two-part posts about the iBlog3 is not about the event itself, it’s about me. It’s my first time to attend such an event where I could get the right information about blogging and other related stuff like broadcasting, journalism, and politics – areas that I’m really concerned about. Since I’m just a fairly new user of this bit of advancement I didn’t assume that I’d be able to comprehend everything that was handed out to me. I still have a lot to discover about blogging, and much more to learn about myself.

Note: Time stamps are approximates.

0430: From the jungles of Los Baños I emerged still on a groggy state and managed to hail a bus plying the route to Alabang. My friends and I went on an overnight swimming, fearing that we’d get roasted alive if we did it on daytime. It’s also a good thing because I’m already running out of sunblock.

0507: The bus and I arrived at Metropolis Star Mall in Alabang. I was literally taken into an adventure ride for the Bus of Death zoomed and swerved in all possible directions along the stretch of SLEX. I called up my dad to fetch me. He said our van’s waiting for me at the Festival Mall parking area near Mercury Drug. I took a long walk.

0515: I spotted the long green Chateau Wagon that resembled a coaster bus. The driver honked at me. I screamed, “Teka lang naman, Kuya!” Our driver looked rather happy; the reason behind this I have no idea. I slid the door open, threw my things at the second row seat, and slammed the door shut. We drove in peace.

0520: Kuya Den – the driver – told me that he’d be able to bring me only up to Makati because my parents would be using the van. I said a sleepish “Sige, kahit san” then I closed my eyes thinking that I could catch a nap. I did, but it lasted for like 5 minutes or so because Kuya Den turned on the radio with the volume set to 37. Thanks Kuya.

0550: It was a smooth ride from Alabang to Makati. My estimated time of arrival should’ve been at around 0615. I brought with me my backpack, tons of stuff having been unloaded – used clothes, slippers, headphones, laptop (it was too heavy for me so I didn’t bring it). I was at the MRT Ayala Station when I realized that I forgot to bring my camera.

0625: Quezon Avenue Station. Few people went down the train, something I seldom encounter in my everyday journey from Cavite to UP. Then again, it’s vacation time.

0655: From the jeepney I unloaded myself at Vinzon’s. I felt the need to pee, and then I realized there’s a restroom inside Vinzon’s. So I climbed up the Vinzon’s Hill to check out the great amenity. Of a padlocked gate.

0710: Since I was the earliest person to arrive at the SE Aud (even the organizers themselves weren’t there yet when I came) I decided to sit at one of the benches strewn along the Sunken Garden. A lot of people were jogging, walking, chatting while jogging and walking, and they were doing it at the Academic Oval. They seem to have agreed on the same idea. Newsflash: Did you know that the Academic Oval is 2.2 kilometers long? (Collective gasp: “Really?!")

0745: I had already finished seven sticks of cigarette, and still no one that I knew made an appearance. Then I wondered, will the event still push through? I saw a group of people going down from a red Mitsubishi Adventure, and they headed straight to the venue.

0747: A lady approached me and started preaching about religious stuff. I’m in for freedom of religion, and I let people log me onto some inspirational talk about eternal life, resurrection, the concepts of heaven and hell, world peace – as long as they won’t force me to join their respective sects, or else they’d be doomed to eternal condemnation, mwahahaha! *chokes*

0812: I could barely hold my pee so I paced my way to Vinzon’s and found that the gates were now opened so I went straight to the men’s room untied my shorts and…”Almost paradise/We’re looking on heaven’s door/Almost paradise/How could we ask for more?”

0830: The booth for the iBlog3 Saturday event was open, so I registered myself. They gave me a bulk of things to bring home – a poster, magazine, and a huge envelope that encased a bunch of papers. Since the program hasn’t started yet, I decided to stay outside for a while to check out the stuff they gave me – okay, to smoke.

0845: I was cleaning my phone’s inbox when I saw a guy in red shirt, pants, and slippers heading towards the place I was sitting. He looked oddly familiar. But I was too busy figuring out who the hell texted me a mind-boggling “Hello” so I wasn’t able to recognize this guy, plus I stupidly assumed that he’d be the one to accost me. He zipped right past me.

0855: The guy in red was Kevin, and came along another guy who I definitely had no idea as to his identity. Later I found out that it was Ian.

0905: Who came first, Jhed or Aaron? I forgot.

To be continued

I’m a very happy citizen. I haven’t watched any TV shows lately, even if it’s already vacation time. I don’t know with you but I can survive for months without the picture tube. For me it’s a good thing because I am spared from all chuckleheadedness. Channel-surfing a while ago I stumbled on an evening news program, and unfortunately glued myself on the couch.

1. Members of pro-administration party throwing china somewhere in Tarlac. They seem to be having fun because they were smiling. (This place is known for the charitable services of innocent plates and cups in which one can displace his indignations.) I thought, maybe if I was there with them, I could’ve hurled the plates at their faces which I suppose is thicker and more calloused than the wall.

2. Commercial break. One is using his being a bar topnotcher “para labanan ang corrupt at abusado;” another one is harboring delusions of youthfulness and pretentiously thinks he’s idol material; then an ad that confidently threatens “Kayong mga nangungurakot, bilang na ang araw niyo!” Of course there’s my favorite ad for the lady who performed the Dance of the Seven Veils. She’s with another lady who just recently realized…I’d rather state the exact spiel. “…ngayon ko lang nalaman na ang babae pala ay hindi sinasaktan. *hikbi* Either the lady just realized that she’s a woman, or she’s dumb enough to promote the senatoriable. There you go the most insipid campaigns ever fabricated in Philippine history.

3. A guy who was caught of robbery and extortion was found out to be the son of a prominent broadcaster who is famous for chasing racketeers guilty of robbery, extortion, among other rancid cases. Oh, the ironies of life.

4. I’ve had enough of that aneurysm stuff in my daily affairs. One, two, three days of media coverage, fine, we can construe that as news worthy. But having it on a daily basis? And now another part of the human anatomy has been added for us to contemplate? What are we going to have next, a documentary on the fat guy’s agonies over his defecation because his anus has been clogged with a corn cob? And we base our knowledge only through medical doctors’ press releases, so how can we be sure that there really is something wrong with the, uh, honorable man?

I thought that I could get a hold on to something novel, but it was still the usual kind of crappy stuff, and I believe that in a theoretical level most viewers have already developed what psychologists call sensory immunity. Or to put it simply, namanhid na sila. Why, they’re bombarded with the same stuff almost everyday that carjacking, larceny, homicide, corruption, and other criminal cases seem to be a part of one’s life. Like it’s something we can’t live without, and the media have managed to sensationalize everything.

A raisin is a grape that worries too much. Oh no.

A while ago I checked my grades for the second semester. It took me quite a while – around 30 minutes or so – to convince myself to log on to CRS because I know for sure that I would get disappointed. To make sure that I won’t find myself destroying things afterwards, I rushed over to our fridge and got myself a bar of Hershey’s plus a bottle of water.

The good side of this online grades viewing thing is that the need to make a round trip visit to the mountains of UP Diliman is totally unnecessary. You just have to remember your UP webmail username and the corresponding password, and you’re in. On the sad note, there’s no breakdown on how the hell you got those grades, and if you are a hard core grade-conscious person the first thing you’ll probably do is to scream.

While entering my username and password, I felt my heart pounding so loudly I thought it would rip itself out from my chest. Then after like five seconds my student number showed on the screen with my full name. I scrolled down to see if my grades have been updated. Yes, it has been updated and…what are those numbers doing over there?

I knew it. Okay, I have to clarify that I’m only 40% GC and the rest is happy-go-lucky, but I don’t get it. I just don’t. It’s as if my efforts have been neglected. I admit, I crammed with my partner to produce the show but our professor said we were the “best” tandem, then I’d get…what? We had it a flat with the radio show and the radio drama, and then this? Don’t tell me that freaking Seelabooz of the weeping armpits got a 1.0. (Seelabooz because this person gratefully pronounced syllabus as such. Dweeb.) I mean, hello. Our prof wouldn’t promote our tandem to the other class if we were so below mediocrity. There is some comfort in knowing that if you can handle a one-man show perfectly, what’s a duo? But this? I think I don’t deserve it. I thought the prof said that “the technicals were great, smooth transitions as to the voice overs and the songs (Uh Ma’am, it’s called a segue), and your voices were really good”? Go Mike, pump your ego. Pump more until you have raged out your anxieties. Then again 1.25 is still good, although I have qualms as to how it came to be. I have to settle this as soon as I can.

If you know yourself, your potentials and limitations, you would violently disagree if in the end you’d get something you don’t totally deserve. Do something about it – complain, rant, rave, utter bloodcurdling war cries if necessary. Don’t just sit back and say, “Life is unfair but life’s life that’s the way the cookie crumbles ces’t la vie okay lang yun;” it’s one way of letting the world raise a finger on you.

Because I let my emotions take over, I forgot to eat my chocolate. Which probably explains why I’m acting like this.

Okay na. Makakapunta na talaga ako sa iBlog3 sa Sabado. As in wala nang malulupit na palusot. Sa mga nagpaplano umattend, utang na loob, pumunta na kayo kasi…actually hindi ko rin alam kung bakit ko kayo pinipilit (kung sino man kayo) basta try niyo pumunta. Sakaling magkita tayo somewhere doon sa UP, promise, hindi ko kayo susungitan. Kakausapin ko kayo, malay niyo ‘pag maaga tayo makarating eh i-tour ko pa kayo (supposing na hindi pa kayo acquainted sa lugar) or yayain ko kayo magkape man lang sa may Katipunan. KKB nga lang (hoy, hindi ako mayaman), pero at least may bonding moments tayo. Who knows, maging friends tayo. *chuckles* Naka-post yung number ko somewhere in here, so you can literally buzz me up. (Note: Nagrereply ako.)

P.S. Check the iBlog3 website. There’s an announcement which I think would flop someone else’s premeditated plans.

I’m now eating a slab of Hershey’s Milk Chocolate, the half-pounder variety, and I’m washing it down with Coke Light. Aside from coffee the other kind of victual I indulge upon is chocolate. I don’t know about you guys but chocolate gives me a different feeling of high. As if I’m in a faraway planet and I’m the only one who has the privilege to sink my teeth into such wonderful human discovery. I’ve read somewhere that chocolate is an aphrodisiac or something, that its effects are in a way similar to those produced when one is in luuuv. Ah, so now I get it. Maybe chocolate can be a substitute for the lack thereof, or it can be an avenue to displace one’s frustrations with luuuv.

Chocolate has been a crucial part of my so-called luuuv life. One time I was with my spiritual girlfriend (physically we have already met, but our feelings haven’t) at Makati then we passed by a stall full of chocolates. We chorused, “Shet! Chocolate!” I gave her M&M’s Milk Chocolate, and she was happy. That killed me. I had to be revived with smelling salts to regain consciousness. Then a few weeks later she requested for a bar of Snickers, and since I was a fine one to talk to I gave her what she was asking for. And lately during Valentine’s I ordered a box full of milk chocolate in the shape of cute little red hearts which I gave her as a gift “just because…” That was the last time I saw her smile. I suppose she was able to receive my emotional distress call, but she’s got big problems with her personal life, and I don’t want to mess things up by insisting on what I wanted. I don’t know doodley-squat about her life right now, but there are times that she would send quotes to me, so I suppose she’s fine.

Aside from flower bouquets and sex, chocolate is still one of the best symbols to express how a guy feels for a girl. Unless it’s the dark chocolate variety, the feeling is sweet.

And so I'm already a bit outdated with our Photoshop CS2. They've already released a new version and I still have no freaking idea how to use it. Actually, I'm figuring it out purely by myself; help topics tend to be very...helpful, but I'm better off with learning it without the aid of manuals or such.

To Vinch, thanks for telling me about CS3.

To Mr. John Dowdell, I was just exaggerating when I said "about a century." What I meant was that I've been hearing about the program for quite a long time right now, but still I have no idea what the program is all about. By the way, much thanks for dropping by.

To Chris. Now that I'm doing some sort of self-tutorial, I'm beginning to think that Photoshop is easy to use. Patience is a virtue. But time is gold. Aaargh.

And to Gerome! (don't forget the exclamation point), we're one of the same sentiment. And thanks for the link exchange.

There you go.

And so everyone's getting bored because of these traditions. I'm not a Catholic but I could almost feel how it was like 2000 years ago. Most establishments are closed, and I can't go anywhere. Then I suddenly had this urge to have my haircut. I checked on the nearest available barber shops. They're all closed. I was on the verge of giving up when at a sudden turn I saw an open salon. I screamed. I got out from the car and swished open the salon's door to find out that I have to queue up, but it was fine. My haircut took 45 minutes to finish. And 180 bucks.

***

Adobe Photoshop. I've been hearing these words for quite a century now but I still have no idea how to use it. I checked out our desktop and I was surprised that Photoshop is installed. Maybe it was my sister who installed it since she needs to learn it badly; she's taking up Architecture. I fired it up and felt like the dumbest creature on Earth. I don't know how to operate the controls, much less to try something new. I attempted to edit my picture. So far it looked nice.

Adobe Photoshop CS2 (version 9.0) - is that an updated version, or am I eons away from civilization? Somebody enlighten me.

We dropped by to see our grandfather in Bulacan yesterday. It was one of the abrupt and quick decisions that my parents have to mull over since my aunt just texted my dad saying that gramps is getting worse. By worse I had to figure out because the term was a bit relative. Worse – in what sense?

It occurred to me what worse meant when we arrived there. Our place in Bulacan is not so far flung from the hustling metrop, and it is just situated at the boundary of Obando. In order for us to be at the barrio proper, we have to take a ten-minute boat ride by the prebiotic river. My cousins who live there (at the barrio, not in the river) said that the waterways were once so clean they were able to swim their hearts out. Now it’s still accessible for aquabelles but it’s hard to perform butterflies and backstrokes with pig poop and an assortment of garbage floating along your path. Gross. Anyway, the boat ride is fun and enjoyable for there is no risk of finding yourself swimming in no time flat, thanks to the large bamboo planks strung along the boat’s sides; these also keep the boat from sinking. Where was I?

By the time we arrived at my dad’s house gramps was not there. We searched for him inside the whole house but he was nowhere to be found. My sister and I thought gramps was playing hide-and-seek. My dad thought he’s looking for grandma again. My grandfather has Alzheimer’s disease, a form of dementia, which affects both memory and reasoning capabilities of suffering individuals. I don’t know exactly when this case occurred to my grandfather, but as far as I can tell the onset worsened just last year when he was having delusions and such. My aunts and uncles are worried about gramps because he’s been acting so oddly during the past months. They would say that gramps would buy three kilos of rice then he’d cook all three kilos thinking he’d be having guests for that day. There seems to have no problem with this, but gramps did this every so often at around two in the morning. Also, gramps would do a long and detailed search for grandma at neighbor’s houses, saying that she hasn’t gone home since that morning. “Kanina lang katabi ko siya sa kama.” This connotes some degree of creepiness since my grandmother has been dead for almost four years now. Gramps would also look for other dead relatives of his such as parents-in-law, brothers who passed away several years ago, among other non-existential people.

My cousin has his own share of story. One day he dropped by at my grandfather’s house to deliver lunch. He found gramps at the dining table, reading papers. My cousin thought it was fine but when he’s about to leave gramps stopped him short. “Oh, san ka pupunta? Diba nagpatawag ako ng meeting? Nasaan na ‘yung ibang kagawad? Kanina pa ’ko naghihintay dito.” Gramps and my cousin were in different quadrants of the universe – my cousin in the present world, gramps flew back in time when he was still barangay captain.

Alzheimer’s disease is incurable, may be a degenerative illness. Doctors said the best thing to do with patients such as my grandfather afflicted with Alzheimer’s - aside from giving them bottles of Gatorade for added strength – is to keep them company. They need somebody to talk with, even if it made no sense to talk about unseen people. And so as not to make things worse relatives should refrain from telling the patients about dead loved ones, or just don’t tell them (the patients) that they’ve (the dead) already departed. Fabricate the most believable and probably the cutest excuses, say, grandma just went to casino with her amigas or she’s at Starbucks that moment sipping a Venti Coffee Jelly. My sister has her own: “Nagtext na po siya, paparating na raw po in…15 minutes.” Gramps laughed but was immediately replaced by a wrinkled frown. “Baka may iba na siyang lalaki. Hindi na niya ako mahal. Pinagpalit na’ko ng lola niyo sa mas bata.”

In case you’re wondering, gramps is still looking for my lola.

Laughter, laughter. Umlaut, umlaut. And more umlauts.

Hay, Jessica. I love you just the way you are. That's a very great idea, and I hope the authorities would consider your suggestion. Something to ponder on while planning you're long awaited vacation in...you know where it is.

Benevolently compiled information that you may actually use in case you’re wondering who the author of this blog is. (Note: Any post in the entire blogosphere resembling this one is purely coincidental. Any lingering doubts as to the authenticity of this post may be addressed to the author by leaving a comment or emailing him.)

1. My name is Mike (full name available upon request). This name is something I totally regret because apart from being too common I actually have a total of five guy friends who also have the same name as mine. In my second life I would like to be named Tiki-Tiki-Tembo-No-Sarembo-Chari-Bari-Ruchi-Pip-Peri-Pembo The Second.

2. Though I may not look like one, I’m already 19.

3. I usually spend my day reading books and dailies, doing monologues, checking out the Internet, listening to WRock, eating out with friends, and swigging gallons of coffee – Java Chip, Iced Café Mocha, or Mocha JavaKula; the good old instant variety is also accepted. The last task being the most important; failure to comply shall have a corresponding upshot, i.e. a very terrible headache.

4. I am a highly boisterous person, and I can’t stand being in a crowd of booooring people. In line with this, friends note that I constantly move (galawgaw, is that the term?) even if should keep myself in a vertical position – I keep on swaying from left to right, moving my head as if I’m looking for something. I wonder why I passed my CAT subject in high school.

5. I always carry with me a bag, may it be a backpack or a sling bag it doesn’t really matter as long as I can place my things in it.

6. Chicken dishes delight me, most especially barbecue and inasal. Dencio’s, Chiggy’s, Congo Grille, and Gerry’s serve the most heavenly and paradisial chicken preparations on Earth.

7. Before: Yves Saint Laurent Menthol Lights (Now it tastes gross). After: Dunhill Menthol Lights. Current: Marlboro Menthol Lights.

8. I have already developed a high tolerance for milk. Now it’s not a melodious beverage for me, and it has actually given me benefits.

9. My vocal cords have had a history of bleeding due to overuse. That is why you may find me occasionally exercising my vocal cords when I’m with a company, but there are times that you wouldn’t recognize my existence even if I’m just half an inch away from you. And don’t fret if I suddenly scream for no reason; it’s perfectly normal.

10. I am not tall.

11. My spiritual girlfriend is now taking a leave. She’s having problems regarding her personal life.

12. I like music, and silence unnerves me. I’m also in for radio productions.

13. I am very particular with proper diction, hygiene, and dining ethics. I am most certainly sure I would be able to tell what kind of person you are with these criteria.

14. My typical wardrobe consists of a white shirt, a pair of jeans, and rubber shoes. White is my current favorite because it’s cool to wear, and we’re in the tropics.

15. Yes, I wear eyeglasses because if I don’t I’d be the clumsiest person alive. A 425-grade spectacle is hard to misplace especially during school days.

16. My phone is a Nokia Communicator. His name is Adrian. He is roughly around 3 years old, but he looks older than his age.

17. I don’t go to the movies anymore. The last movie I saw that I admittedly having interest with was The Grudge 2 when I was a Junior High. The last movie I saw just because I was required to watch it was Ang Tanging Ina in Shangri-La.

18. I go for Adidas.

19. “I believe in Karma, what you give is what you get [in] return.” – Savage Garden, Affirmation

20. I may be snooty but believe me I’m easy to get along with. We just have to have something in common, or else I wouldn’t inhale next to you.

And so I finally changed my blog's template. Courtesy of search engines and a lot of patience. I changed my mind; I won't be putting tagboards anymore. I'm feeling extremely lazy.

Kevin buzzed me up to give a comment upon which he brought the topic about the iblog3 event. It's going to be held at UP Diliman, so I might as well come. And maybe I'll check whether I could apply for RA next sem. Bring along your IDs, okay. Snooty guards might regard you as terrorists thus denying you entry inside buildings.

I think the Saturday program is fun.

There are far more stupid people than intelligent ones. A very sad fact, but we can't do anything about it. Since the earliest times it has been suggested that there were intelligent and stupid people in the world.* One can find many references to stupidity in almost every facet of life. Books, movies, the Internet, politicians - they all exude their own kind of dim-wittedness, in varying degrees. I believe that the last example is the paragon of all.

It's interesting to note that nowadays intelligence can be measured. During the olden days people didn't give so much attention as to their nuts, with the exception of those who were fully aware of their state. Then in 1905, a French psychologist named Alfred Binet became worried about those concerned - he can qualify as a philanthropist - he devised the earliest intelligence tests. From then on the tests were of good use to all humanity, but was brought forth to be subjected to investigation. Nevertheless, the popularity of Binet's innovation prompted William Stern, a German psychologist, to coin the term Intelligence Quotient, which is fairly used and abused from the time being.

Below 25 IQ … idiots
From 25 to 50 IQ … imbeciles
From 50 to 70 IQ … morons
From 70 to 80 IQ … borderline defectives
From 80 to 90 IQ … low normal individuals
From 90 to 110 IQ … normal average individuals
From 110 to 120 IQ … high average individuals
From 120 to 140 IQ … superior individuals
From 140 IQ onwards … very superior individuals; aliens

Just a piece of advice. Though IQ tests may sound so awe-inspiring, remarkable, and truthful, don’t be easily fooled by these things. Like horoscopes, they all wallow in the concept of Barnum effect, i.e. generalized descriptions and/or statements which are ambiguous in nature, and we tend to believe in them due to fallacies of positive instances. Also, it may be construed that these are somehow subjective in its sense, and some of the psychologist’s biases tend to be incorporated in conclusions regarding these tests. So before taking those tests, just take in to consideration these concepts.

By the way, there’s this online personality assessment test by Dr. John A. Johnson. Take time in answering any of the two. Here's the link for the shorter version.

*Cerminara, Degrees

I realized that my blog's template looks blah. With this I tried downloading free blog templates from Blogskins, and maybe a couple of days from now this site would have a character. I will also try to use those...tagboards. Ang feeling.

If I get bored, I'll revert to my old skin.

"Oh my God, it's so like init here in Starbucks, to think na Starbucks 'to ha."

"Shet, look at my pawis oh, it's so like dripping."

"Buy ka nga ng drinks, yung large size. Ay, meron ba nun, haha. Grande nalang na, uh, Mocha Frappuccino."

"What time na ba?"

"You're so like tagal ha. Where've you been?"

"Nood tayo sine. Hello, we're like here na in Greenbelt 3."

"Text mo nga si Paul. I think he's coming na."

"Ohmigosh, wala na 'kong yosi. Sa'n ba makakabuy? Meron ba dito nun?"

"God, I need those drinks na. Nasan na ba si...Ohmigod, Paul is here na. Hi Paul!"

"Samahan mo naman ako sa CR. Na-wee-wee-wee na'ko eh."

Actual conversation pieces courtesy of a flock of girls at Starbucks Greenbelt 3 this early afternoon at exactly 11.30am. I absolutely have no idea as to their educational background, but I'm pretty sure they're from... Anyway, I was accompanied by a friend, and he was terribly annoyed by the proliferation of coño people. When the C word came up, he exclaimed, "Wag mo ngang banggitin yun. Bastos kasi." I said, "Alam ko," then I proceeded to babble and shout the real meaning of coño. My friend covered his face with ashes from the ashtray.

And it came to pass that I knew what I was salivating after. It occurred to me like some jolt of electricity or something, surging up to my spine and reaching for my synapses just enough power to reach the threshold potential, thus processing the whole information. I was having this weird craving for street foods. I haven’t eaten those skewered stuff for like months, and I feel like a total dork. It’s a bit ironic, though, that almost everyday I just walk right past those hawkers as if their merchandises don’t ever exist. Then the smell of grilled barbecue would enter my nostrils, and I would have a seizure attack.

We were on our way to Bulacan yesterday when I saw a row of ihaw-ihaw vendors near that certain church in Obando. I yelled, “Uy, gusto ko ng isaw!” Then my mom looked at me evilly and quickly logged into some forum that those foods are “unsanitary,” that the preparations were out of question, blah blah blah. But then my dad saved everyone from being skewered by my mom. “Sige, bumili muna kayo ng ate mo. I-park ko lang itong sasakyan sa dulo.” The traffic was very bad – a typical phenomenon in the locale – so I was right when I guessed that by the time we finished eating we would still be stuck in the same exact position as we were.

A motley assortment of innards was in store for the would-be customers. Giant pieces of pig’s ears, pig’s skin, pig’s kidneys, pig’s intestines, chicken feet, chicken hearts, liver, chicken heads, and blocks of brown stuff. I particularly like isaw – chicken variety – and the thing known as Beta Max, which is either cow’s or pig’s blood. It may sound creepy and icky for the neat freaks out there, but I haven’t actually heard of anyone who acquired some illness by just consuming large amounts of the stuff. My sister got herself humongous chunks of isaw baboy and the cartilaginous parts of a pig’s ears, i.e. tenga. She pointed at something skewered, and they resemble little black balls. I said it’s called bato, i.e. chicken kidneys, I think. She asked me, “Ano ‘yung bato?” I replied, rather stupidly, “Rock.”

I remember my Art Studies professor when he noted something about street foods and Filipino culture. We Filipinos overindulge in the concept of conservation that we apply in almost every thing. For instance, food preparation. We care much about the left over but still edible innards of slaughtered poultry and other livestock that we collect, cook, and sell them as food merchandise. In the States restaurants would only serve the meaty parts, and then they saw how cunning the Filipinos are in the art of cooking that they, too, slowly accepted and imitated the way we prepare food – but still no one compares with the Filipinos. This seemingly innate profession of practicality is the same exact trait that would never leave us hungry.

After this bacchanalia my sister and I returned to our van, trying not to look back or else we’d have another impulsive urge to eat. The traffic was still not in a good state, but my dad had already thought of a strategy; he’d make his way through the one-way street, but for one problem. Our van is the biggest land vehicle that moment, and taking the one-way street would mean acquiring the whole street by ourselves. And so we took the long way instead. Sometimes cunning doesn’t work with traffic.