We lost over AB at my first ever Crossfire match. Sad how we never even made it to the next round, or atleast win one debate. Anyhow, I say it was a good debate, considering the fact that the debates before ours were filled with unconscious ramblings and illogical arguments. Pecto and I already wanted to step up and grab the mic. Say, “On relevance…”
It was a very good debate. The best yet, for me. Although we lost, we were able to satisfy Kuya Rigor’s (one of the adjudicators, who, by the way, is the trainer of Dialectikos, Pay-High debate organization) demands of an uplifting debate for the sake of the very “painful” one prior to ours. I almost made it to Best Speaker – undermining that I made a complete mess out of my speech – but I lost to Al, AB’s first speaker, to one vote. Nonetheless, he deserves it, and just the thought of being a part of that round is a privilege as it is.
Tomorrow, I’ll be training the whips – both Kat and Carissa. Niño told me to do so. I really don’t know how to start teaching them. I’m still not that good myself; I’m so far from being that.
***
Just got some of my preliminary exams back. Oh man! Screw Chem300Lab! And I mean that with every inch of my fingernails! Damn… Just read through the lines.
Atleast I got a perfect score in the Technical Writing exam! Still…
Again, I am yet to drown myself in studying for a specific subject. It’s a clear déjà vu of last semester’s finals. Remember Calculus?
Please stop haunting me with Chemistry; it’s pretty working!
***
Four new poems for Momentum’s next issue. Especially loved Of Dragonflies and Collisions. Familiar, huh?
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Saturday, January 28, 2006
Clash of the Day
Another crosstraining. With AB this time – another set of new “friends”. The one yesterday was cancelled due to weather conditions and faulty excuses.
They’re good – I mean the AB debaters. We lost by a margin of .25, all because of a point I didn’t hear and the “clash of the day” that came too late.
Nevertheless, the pressure weighs on as we approach the real debate.
It’s rescheduled to Monday… Much earlier than expected. Please pray for us! Do be supportive friends. *begs*
The Debate Team’s shirts are already made. They’re perfect, just because the black color bites for my bias.
Oh, and Livre2 Concert was postponed (due to the weather, yet again). I think it’ll be moved to first Friday of next month. See you then.
I demand for better bands! But don’t take away Join the Club, PNE and Sugarfree. Hehe.
***
I finished writing my prose for the next Momentum issue. The title’s Envisage. It’s about schizophrenia and a bit of tainted love. I had fun writing it. Mavy’s hoping it gets published.
I’m still down to more poems and two prose. Help me on these. My mind’s cracking, for all the words are fluttered in debate.
Here’s a teaser:I figured you were real. Perhaps as real as those colors I once wanted to own. As true as the divisions in those blank silhouettes I’ve once savored with all my worthlessness.
You are envisage, I wrote.
And perhaps I am unreal.
Mavy’s proud of herself and is sick of her condescension. Heh.
***
I find that I write about death a lot, yet I lately realized the importance of such. For you to acknowledge that life is beautiful, you have to probe into the opposite of it. Same goes for you loving day once you recognize the gloominess of the dark night.
But death is not really an end, nor a beginning. It is the middle of everything, although the choice for you to go back or not is out of your command. Even so, I believe you have the freewill to remain and wait.
Once someone you love dies, do not think of it as a form of departure. Instead, make of it an opportunity for someone to wait for you so that you’d be reunited again – perhaps even redo the mistakes you made – and an option for you to love each other more.
Death is sudden. Life is tentative. Love is infinite.
Choose where you stand.
And you'd need not worry.
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Ruthlessly Beautiful
Sweet… I just publicly proclaimed my failure in my Chem300Lab preliminary exam. What a way to end the prelims week. After six tests of untainted conviction, the seventh just gave me a punch right on the bridge of my nose. Crap.
Yet I have to take un-glory for the unexcused ignorance, because I never really pulled a muscle in preparing for the test. Not even a flinch.
***
Got uneventfully stranded in MiniStop hours ago. Rain poured. Carelessly, ruthlessly.
It reminded me of a lot of things. Rain’s somewhat my aftershock – of all things that rule the dusts left unwept.
I arrived home, a bit sickly and downhearted over the day’s end. I’m plotting for a good offset for the finals.
After a minute or two of pacing around the room (and finishing half of the Prima buttered toasts inside my bag), I decided to watch the Azumi movies (2 parts on DVD) I bought weeks back. I was a bed-potato for four hours straight, beat that!
Nonetheless, no regrets here. The first one was a kick-ass film! The story revolves around the life of an assassin; of bitter times that can be considered pieces of fate.
Personally, it’s one of my favorite action flicks and/or movies, in general, to date. It beated Matrix and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon… and I’m not kidding.
Although Oguri (my actor of choice; just because I love his looks and stance) died quite soon, even before things started firing up. I loved it. No less.
I was particularly left awestruck when the assassins had to kill their own “comrades” to be able to pass their last test and pursue the real mission – to kill the three great warlords. Damn, the concept was beautiful. And that of course is a critique not based on bias – of me liking Oguri or adoring brutality and bloodiness – but on reasonable standards and qualities. ‘Cause you have to know I didn’t quite like the second one. And considering the juicy fact that Oguri was there all throughout the movie’s on-play, you just have to deal with it.
Anyhow, I dare say you’re missing a quarter of your lifespan if you don’t watch it. Oguri’s character name is Nachi, by the way – for legitimacy purposes. *grins*
***
I’m back to training for debate tomorrow afternoon. I’m pressuring myself to work harder as our contenders for the first crossfire match-up all have their own credentials and titles to divinely engrave their names in marble.
I really need your prayers. I’m on the brink of begging you for them, because they’re badly needed. I know how I can be pathetic sometimes but please bear with my idiosyncrasies.
***
The Prima bag has gone empty! Now who stole the cookie from the cookie bag? Ermm... toast, rather.
Yet I have to take un-glory for the unexcused ignorance, because I never really pulled a muscle in preparing for the test. Not even a flinch.
***
Got uneventfully stranded in MiniStop hours ago. Rain poured. Carelessly, ruthlessly.
It reminded me of a lot of things. Rain’s somewhat my aftershock – of all things that rule the dusts left unwept.
I arrived home, a bit sickly and downhearted over the day’s end. I’m plotting for a good offset for the finals.
After a minute or two of pacing around the room (and finishing half of the Prima buttered toasts inside my bag), I decided to watch the Azumi movies (2 parts on DVD) I bought weeks back. I was a bed-potato for four hours straight, beat that!
Nonetheless, no regrets here. The first one was a kick-ass film! The story revolves around the life of an assassin; of bitter times that can be considered pieces of fate.
Personally, it’s one of my favorite action flicks and/or movies, in general, to date. It beated Matrix and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon… and I’m not kidding.
Although Oguri (my actor of choice; just because I love his looks and stance) died quite soon, even before things started firing up. I loved it. No less.
I was particularly left awestruck when the assassins had to kill their own “comrades” to be able to pass their last test and pursue the real mission – to kill the three great warlords. Damn, the concept was beautiful. And that of course is a critique not based on bias – of me liking Oguri or adoring brutality and bloodiness – but on reasonable standards and qualities. ‘Cause you have to know I didn’t quite like the second one. And considering the juicy fact that Oguri was there all throughout the movie’s on-play, you just have to deal with it.
Anyhow, I dare say you’re missing a quarter of your lifespan if you don’t watch it. Oguri’s character name is Nachi, by the way – for legitimacy purposes. *grins*
***
I’m back to training for debate tomorrow afternoon. I’m pressuring myself to work harder as our contenders for the first crossfire match-up all have their own credentials and titles to divinely engrave their names in marble.
I really need your prayers. I’m on the brink of begging you for them, because they’re badly needed. I know how I can be pathetic sometimes but please bear with my idiosyncrasies.
***
The Prima bag has gone empty! Now who stole the cookie from the cookie bag? Ermm... toast, rather.
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
Deviances of the Pseudo-Intellectual
I regret not reviewing my Analytical Chemistry Laboratory manual before taking my last two quizzes for the same course. All the answers to the mind-boggling questions (for me, that is) were there. Smack at my face! Sheesh…***
I think my dad and I are pretty okay now, only he’s still acting a bit chilly. Anyhow, I just take it indifferently and talk with him – perchance – as if nothing happened.
I’m slowly recovering from my sleeping disorder, conversely though, I’m starting to have a new health problem. My system barely welcomes food intake. And I know I should be happy about that for dietary purposes, however I’m not that vain about my figure to actually feel blissful about it.
I care more about eating a lot than concentrating on my vital statistics.
***
A few corrections and/or notices:
- It’s not Imago who’ll be performing in the Livre concert, but Mojofly.
- First Crossfire match for Science is on February 1, 2006 (Wednesday), 1-3pm. It’s taped as live; I’m not really sure what that means so just go check your respective college TVs around those hours – that is, if you want to see me make a mess out of my speech. Oh, and please don’t forget to pray for us; we’d be going against AB.
- Dialectics eliminations are on February 5, 2006 (Sunday). Still don’t know what time though. I’ll keep you guys posted.
- The new links at the bottom right of my page are of the Deviant Art website. Go check them out. They’re fab! The pictures posted with this entry are from that site. Gotta love the pics! I can almost see myself in them! No contradictions please! Hehe...
*** 
I received my first ever comment/critique in Deviant Art Website. It’s for the Beloved, Formless poem, which I think I posted a month back. Just go look for it in my archives (Specters of the Writer). Here’s what’s said in the comment:
Deviant: ~FeyCreature (#214503293) Date: Jan 24, 2006, 1:19:00 PM
Cool. I love the line "Afloat on the same past tenses" and I'm not sure why. The whole thing is very thoughtful, deep I guess (although that always sounds so trite nowadays *sigh*) Nice job
Go check my gallery of deviations here.
***
It’s my last prelims day tomorrow. Wish me luck. So far, not one test has given me a headache. Or should I attach a yet preposition to that?
Nah.
Can’t wait to start training again. I’m all rusty. Heh.
Sleep everyone. Be grateful you can.
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Crowned Ego
I had to erase my post last January 21. It’s not a good product of anger really. I need not expound on that matter. The gravity goes six feet under.
My dad’s still cold to me. He acts like he’s twelve. Jeez. Where’s maturity when my father needs it? I’d better ask the dog for more sensible conversation.
***
I finished watching First Love of a Royal Prince, a TV series I somewhat flicked on marathon for the last couple of days. Although everyone’s whining for the “other guy” to amiably end up with the lead girl, I’d say everything ended up just right. The lead actor is also the guy in My Sassy Girl. Although he’s not that drop-dead gorgeous, he’s one of my favorite Korean artists to date.
Where to nitpick – lemme borrow this word from Kat – hrmm… I’d say my eyes welled out tears when Gun-hee let Yu-bin go.
My dad’s still cold to me. He acts like he’s twelve. Jeez. Where’s maturity when my father needs it? I’d better ask the dog for more sensible conversation.
***
I finished watching First Love of a Royal Prince, a TV series I somewhat flicked on marathon for the last couple of days. Although everyone’s whining for the “other guy” to amiably end up with the lead girl, I’d say everything ended up just right. The lead actor is also the guy in My Sassy Girl. Although he’s not that drop-dead gorgeous, he’s one of my favorite Korean artists to date.
Where to nitpick – lemme borrow this word from Kat – hrmm… I’d say my eyes welled out tears when Gun-hee let Yu-bin go.
"Just the fact that you're saying sorry, I'm already finding all means to let you go. Your apologizing simply means I have a bit of space in your heart. I'm happy, for all the while I thought I had none." --> Gun-hee
Sigh… And now I’m dreaming to go to Tahiti.
***
Our dog, Bullet, is now in good condition. Although he’s still ranting about his small “crib”, that’s the best I can do for him. Chicco and EJ scared me saying he’s showing signs of looming death. My grandfather, however, is not doing quite well.
I regret not being able to go to Cla's debut party. My apologies, Cla.
***
If only by a snap of a finger I can make things fine and working as they were once. However, my dad is a clear contradiction to that simple wish.
I’d better start writing my entries for the next journal issue, lest I deem to welcome procrastination in my schedule. There’s going to be a concert on the 27th in school (Grandstand Field), by the way. It’ll start around 7pm. Playlist includes Join the Club, Sugarfree, Parokya ni Edgar, Imago and Brownman Revival. The others, I can’t recall. Admission’s free, so just crash in if you want. I'd be enjoing the show by myself as my blockmates would be leaving for their Ilocos field trip only a few hours onstart. Nevertheless, hope I'd bump into some of you.
[Takes in a deep breath.]
Sunday, January 22, 2006
Embraced
I wanted to think that this is just one of those ordinary days, yet I’m desperately haunted by my responsibilities as a daughter. One thing I hate about Filipino culture, is how we have to concede to every bit of thought our parents deem best or right. Liberalism wouldn’t hurt sometimes.
Due to too much ire last night, I came up with a bad entry in my blog. But I wouldn’t want to edit that. It should remind me never to write with too much fury again.
Of course angst would be way different than that.
***
These are the nights when I am preoccupied by thoughts of what-to-be’s. Droll how I’m currently in the last days of my second year in college, and still I have no idea where I’m heading.
Medicine? *shrugs*
At some point, I find writing here as my only escape, my only flight from unwanted quandaries that never fail to serve as bloodsuckers to my veins of journalism and contentment. The two worlds in a toggle case.
I leave precipitates of what-if’s and if-only’s, and not using the best of myself to improve all that I hold in fleeting air.
I envy. And though it may be a mortal sin, I am swollen with pride for committing it.
Julius, one of my fellow debaters in CSTP, is taking up law once he graduates from Biology this schoolyear. And where does that leave me? – jealous of him breathing the freedom to choose.
For more than evidently, I am not entitled to that. And even if I gang up with people to revolutionize for that yearning, it would do me no good. Just picture what happened last night when my dad told me that as a daughter, I have no inkling of a right to be heard. In his words, he wouldn’t give a damn even if I did.
Again I ask, where does that leave me?
***
After such a long time, I found myself praying reverently, intently to Him. Once again at a time when I’m helpless and vulnerable. It’s ridiculous thinking that I am back to the norms of people going to church to beg for this and that. But I had to.
I needed direction. More than anything.
See how worthlessness comes to people who are showered with bad luck? Hrmm… or maybe not. Maybe such are intended to happen for me to learn and for me to know that I am more than strong for this. Chicken feed, as what local radio stations would say.
It’s cheesy, but take it as it is.
And as for someone who never wanted anything more than to get her feelings returned, I say I still do not put the blame on Him.
I am saved in every way possible. And not because I know that he’s always there, but because of the trust that I have for all that he has to give.
Do not merely believe, but have faith.
And everything will fall into place.
Due to too much ire last night, I came up with a bad entry in my blog. But I wouldn’t want to edit that. It should remind me never to write with too much fury again.
Of course angst would be way different than that.
***
These are the nights when I am preoccupied by thoughts of what-to-be’s. Droll how I’m currently in the last days of my second year in college, and still I have no idea where I’m heading.
Medicine? *shrugs*
At some point, I find writing here as my only escape, my only flight from unwanted quandaries that never fail to serve as bloodsuckers to my veins of journalism and contentment. The two worlds in a toggle case.
I leave precipitates of what-if’s and if-only’s, and not using the best of myself to improve all that I hold in fleeting air.
I envy. And though it may be a mortal sin, I am swollen with pride for committing it.
Julius, one of my fellow debaters in CSTP, is taking up law once he graduates from Biology this schoolyear. And where does that leave me? – jealous of him breathing the freedom to choose.
For more than evidently, I am not entitled to that. And even if I gang up with people to revolutionize for that yearning, it would do me no good. Just picture what happened last night when my dad told me that as a daughter, I have no inkling of a right to be heard. In his words, he wouldn’t give a damn even if I did.
Again I ask, where does that leave me?
***
After such a long time, I found myself praying reverently, intently to Him. Once again at a time when I’m helpless and vulnerable. It’s ridiculous thinking that I am back to the norms of people going to church to beg for this and that. But I had to.
I needed direction. More than anything.
See how worthlessness comes to people who are showered with bad luck? Hrmm… or maybe not. Maybe such are intended to happen for me to learn and for me to know that I am more than strong for this. Chicken feed, as what local radio stations would say.
It’s cheesy, but take it as it is.
And as for someone who never wanted anything more than to get her feelings returned, I say I still do not put the blame on Him.
I am saved in every way possible. And not because I know that he’s always there, but because of the trust that I have for all that he has to give.
Do not merely believe, but have faith.
And everything will fall into place.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
Chewing Up
I’ve been studying for three hours now, and I’m not enjoying any bit of it. I just screwed up in my Bio102 Lab practical exam early this morning. If only my persecution to reviewing lecture lessons would pay off for the same class as well.
Princess November is epitomized in my daily rummaging for the must-have sleep.
I’m starting to wonder if life pays you off tardiness for you to realize that studying only causes you that and nothing more.
***
I’ve finished writing my poem for the journal. I’m not yet sure though to which monthly publication I’d be including it. Something about city walks, Ebisu and forgetting. The style is a rip-off of both Amalin’s and Jeanette Winterson’s, added to that a touch of my overdone sickness. It’s only right to state your “inspirations” and not be barbed for owning a style or work that is not yours. Read over.
I’m still envisaging my Tagalog prose. Surprisingly, I am famished for words of a language that is supposedly inherent in my being. I have but thin and trivial lexis circling my underprivileged wits.
***
I have to get back to my notes before another red mark is added to my prolonging list. But before that,
Princess November is epitomized in my daily rummaging for the must-have sleep.
I’m starting to wonder if life pays you off tardiness for you to realize that studying only causes you that and nothing more.
***
I’ve finished writing my poem for the journal. I’m not yet sure though to which monthly publication I’d be including it. Something about city walks, Ebisu and forgetting. The style is a rip-off of both Amalin’s and Jeanette Winterson’s, added to that a touch of my overdone sickness. It’s only right to state your “inspirations” and not be barbed for owning a style or work that is not yours. Read over.
I’m still envisaging my Tagalog prose. Surprisingly, I am famished for words of a language that is supposedly inherent in my being. I have but thin and trivial lexis circling my underprivileged wits.
***
I have to get back to my notes before another red mark is added to my prolonging list. But before that,
My greetings to Juanito Alamar III. To our much-loved debate trainer, Niño, a Happy Birthday to you! May God fulfill the best of your wishes, and bless you with a thriving year that’d make you even more successful and happier.
Much love from the CSTP!
Monday, January 16, 2006
Response to Onomatopoeia
Love is beyond superstition.
I find it hard to write that down.
The way I see it, everyone’s inking parchments of devotion and anguish. I, on the other hand, delve on success and optimism. Something that deviates my being a pessimist, yet madly creates every disparity I have from them. They who liquidate imagery and vandalize its essence from those who breathe each and every word of its figures.
Stark consciousness caused me to realize that I shall always be as forlorn. That has long been my life. So long, Gabriel Garcia Marquez and I can even rebuild the same roof of any house. That is why I’ve traced my own style of writing prose and poetry, not lifting letters from any other text. Just now, another criminal was added to my list.
Sentimentality never pays a price. Beauty does not come from language. Language comes from beauty, and that is what you need to understand. It’s not about flowers and butterflies flittering within your lines. Not even about the shape and artistry of the human heart. It’s about living through the darkness and playing with shadows to croon the very pain. Because, in truth, it was never about love.
The wounds make you write. The scars make you live in search of a method to erase their permanence.
You use imagery in force of “effortlessly” provoking readers of false love. That I tell you is heinous and unforgivable.
The battlefields are drawn from those presumed tactlessness and deviances, that I derive pity from those who’ve been blinded. I can almost fearlessly predict that soon they’d color you with recognition, a grasp of your true being that is thickened by morass.
Not do I write a piece in steep spearing of your work. I write this, because I too am a sinner. I too can see the faulty recesses of your mind. I too have my own breakages.
Only I know how to pick up the shards even with blood on my hands.
I know where to be, and who I really am.
So what brings you here, reading these words that you’ve began to misjudge, or worse, loathe? There’s no canopy, there’s no appraisal.
There are only lies waiting to be heaved by your subsistence.
I find it hard to write that down.
The way I see it, everyone’s inking parchments of devotion and anguish. I, on the other hand, delve on success and optimism. Something that deviates my being a pessimist, yet madly creates every disparity I have from them. They who liquidate imagery and vandalize its essence from those who breathe each and every word of its figures.
Stark consciousness caused me to realize that I shall always be as forlorn. That has long been my life. So long, Gabriel Garcia Marquez and I can even rebuild the same roof of any house. That is why I’ve traced my own style of writing prose and poetry, not lifting letters from any other text. Just now, another criminal was added to my list.
Sentimentality never pays a price. Beauty does not come from language. Language comes from beauty, and that is what you need to understand. It’s not about flowers and butterflies flittering within your lines. Not even about the shape and artistry of the human heart. It’s about living through the darkness and playing with shadows to croon the very pain. Because, in truth, it was never about love.
The wounds make you write. The scars make you live in search of a method to erase their permanence.
You use imagery in force of “effortlessly” provoking readers of false love. That I tell you is heinous and unforgivable.The battlefields are drawn from those presumed tactlessness and deviances, that I derive pity from those who’ve been blinded. I can almost fearlessly predict that soon they’d color you with recognition, a grasp of your true being that is thickened by morass.
Not do I write a piece in steep spearing of your work. I write this, because I too am a sinner. I too can see the faulty recesses of your mind. I too have my own breakages.
Only I know how to pick up the shards even with blood on my hands.
I know where to be, and who I really am.
So what brings you here, reading these words that you’ve began to misjudge, or worse, loathe? There’s no canopy, there’s no appraisal.
There are only lies waiting to be heaved by your subsistence.
Sunday, January 15, 2006
Just Because
Finally… Some siesta!
I’ve been missing a lot of my Chemistry classes due to Crossfire demands and both that and Dialectics trainings. Those, of course, include both the lecture and the laboratory sessions.
I need a lot of catching up to do this week.
***
Kat, once again, got me hooked into this web comic,
it’s also included in my links at the lower right portion of this page. The comic relief is very much refreshing. My character of choice is Perrault. And considering the aspect of me hating cats, he simply has a marvelous disposition at that.
If you love wittily humored fics with a hint of anime-ish sketching, this sure is an excellent find.
***
Crosstraining with Nursing got cancelled yesterday. However, we still had one with Commerce (added to that some smoke sessions with Franz).
We won.
Oh, and Phyleep was also there to do his Iron Man feat.
***
This week, I’m choking myself up to study harder. Prelims are on its way, and I wouldn’t want my dad to be getting on with his “internal strife” if I failed some.
By the by, a big congratulation to Pao for ranking 3 in the Dean’s List. I’ve always envied your intelligence, and I need not explain why.
I need some time to write my next entries for the journal. I’m thinking of a good concept, still my mind keeps on leaving creases of blank forms, which perceptibly are doing me no good.
Where is insight when you need her most?
***
There’s a frigid end to your heart;
a diversion of some
unconceivable myth.
I’ve been missing a lot of my Chemistry classes due to Crossfire demands and both that and Dialectics trainings. Those, of course, include both the lecture and the laboratory sessions.
I need a lot of catching up to do this week.
***
Kat, once again, got me hooked into this web comic,
it’s also included in my links at the lower right portion of this page. The comic relief is very much refreshing. My character of choice is Perrault. And considering the aspect of me hating cats, he simply has a marvelous disposition at that.If you love wittily humored fics with a hint of anime-ish sketching, this sure is an excellent find.
***
Crosstraining with Nursing got cancelled yesterday. However, we still had one with Commerce (added to that some smoke sessions with Franz).
We won.
Oh, and Phyleep was also there to do his Iron Man feat.
***
This week, I’m choking myself up to study harder. Prelims are on its way, and I wouldn’t want my dad to be getting on with his “internal strife” if I failed some.
By the by, a big congratulation to Pao for ranking 3 in the Dean’s List. I’ve always envied your intelligence, and I need not explain why.
I need some time to write my next entries for the journal. I’m thinking of a good concept, still my mind keeps on leaving creases of blank forms, which perceptibly are doing me no good.
Where is insight when you need her most?
***
There’s a frigid end to your heart;
a diversion of some
unconceivable myth.
I wanted to derive hatred
from you…
As quickly as the placid rose
with thorns of molten derailment.
As playfully as the pinched radian
covering the spaces of you.
Yet I am undermined by your
watch. My
lungs buried. Down to your
very core.
Gaze burns. Talk wounds.
©Mavy 011506
Thursday, January 12, 2006
Spaces
I shape my lungs to need you.
This is what I will do for you, when you are unfamiliar and sharp, all elbows and broken record words in my arms. I will roll over and let you slide under the sheets beside me, mold my body to yours, memorize its contours, its shape. I am afraid to touch you. I am more afraid not to.
One question alone. Do you love me? They all filter here.
I put my hand on the beating point in your chest and asked you what was left. You said, "It's just muscle and blood." You touched me and I said, "You."
I never ask you why, you know. I don't look for explanations, excuses, anything more than one word. For this I dive, open my eyes to midnight water and the dark shapes of untruths, delving in the mud for a word your lips won't hold. Sometimes I cup my fingers over my heart. I would give it to you if you asked.
You never ask.
[Fissure by Amalin]
For plagiarism purposes, click this link to view Amalin's personal webpage. Every word is hers, from the start of this post to her name or the link, precisely.
***
The thing about me is my uncaring prerogative. The thing about him is that he’s too beautiful to behold.
My eyes feel tacky, if that’d be an appropriate word to describe its current state. They want to scream for their own life, because apparently, I’m not letting them get any rest. I’m burdened by my craving to be busy each minute, even if it means giving up my breaks for trainings. Maybe Pablo Neruda’s right about forgetting.
It takes too long.
***
Welcome to the Debate World, as Niño would say.
The TOMCAT talkshow for the Crossfire contingents was one hell of an extravaganza! I got to meet lots of people from different colleges, particularly those who’d be competing for Nursing. There’s Paolo Enrile, former UST Pay High debater (went to Regionals, winner of Crossfire two years back and excellently trained by Atty. Arlene Maneja); Phyleep, 2nd year Nursing (Ateneo Debate in his HS years, former TDC), and Tina, or was it Teena, who also competed for Dialectics and Crossfire the previous years.
The others, I don’t remember their names. My bad.
We will be debating with AB first; a change of plans, the former being Nursing.
Uh, and'll be crosstraining with Nursing on Saturday morning, and Commerce (again) in the afternoon of the same day.
Full force, huh?
Memorable “effects” during the talkshow:
1. Bad hosts with thick rims of cue cards.
2. Dead air. Pecto talks. Dead air. Niño talks. Dead air. Mavy talks. Now where the hell’s the Engineering team?
3. Pecto’s desire to be famous, and his bickering for me to do the same.
4. Niño’s butting in with "I have something to say..." while the host says, “Moving on…”
5. Phyleep’s bisexuality. He kisses your hand and starts prattling about how he loves you. Flirtatious, huh?
6. The “so gay” set design.
7. The schizo segment producer named Ivy, who, by the way, needs a lot of life organizing to do.
8. The smelly Zesto juice.
9. Knowing various debate traits: bitched-out, drug-high, for-the-grade, I-want-to-be-seen-on-TV, never-debater and Mavy’s very own “I’m bored, let’s go home and sleep?”
Hehe. What the devil?!
***
My sleeping disorder is getting worse by the minute.
I’ve been arriving home each night, past 10 p.m., and at the same time, scrambling to turn on the PC. I turn on the messenger and start my off-peak routine.
I don’t sleep. And even if I try to, I’m not successful enough. Sleep dawns on me in between 4-5 a.m. Or if I’m really lucky, I’m able to doze off at 3 a.m. – The very reason why I wasn’t able to attend my Chem300Lab Class today.
I’m at a loss, for heaven’s sake.
Please, let this not be a new crisis.
This is what I will do for you, when you are unfamiliar and sharp, all elbows and broken record words in my arms. I will roll over and let you slide under the sheets beside me, mold my body to yours, memorize its contours, its shape. I am afraid to touch you. I am more afraid not to.
One question alone. Do you love me? They all filter here.
I put my hand on the beating point in your chest and asked you what was left. You said, "It's just muscle and blood." You touched me and I said, "You."
I never ask you why, you know. I don't look for explanations, excuses, anything more than one word. For this I dive, open my eyes to midnight water and the dark shapes of untruths, delving in the mud for a word your lips won't hold. Sometimes I cup my fingers over my heart. I would give it to you if you asked.
You never ask.
[Fissure by Amalin]
For plagiarism purposes, click this link to view Amalin's personal webpage. Every word is hers, from the start of this post to her name or the link, precisely.
***
The thing about me is my uncaring prerogative. The thing about him is that he’s too beautiful to behold.
My eyes feel tacky, if that’d be an appropriate word to describe its current state. They want to scream for their own life, because apparently, I’m not letting them get any rest. I’m burdened by my craving to be busy each minute, even if it means giving up my breaks for trainings. Maybe Pablo Neruda’s right about forgetting.
It takes too long.
***
Welcome to the Debate World, as Niño would say.
The TOMCAT talkshow for the Crossfire contingents was one hell of an extravaganza! I got to meet lots of people from different colleges, particularly those who’d be competing for Nursing. There’s Paolo Enrile, former UST Pay High debater (went to Regionals, winner of Crossfire two years back and excellently trained by Atty. Arlene Maneja); Phyleep, 2nd year Nursing (Ateneo Debate in his HS years, former TDC), and Tina, or was it Teena, who also competed for Dialectics and Crossfire the previous years.
The others, I don’t remember their names. My bad.
We will be debating with AB first; a change of plans, the former being Nursing.
Uh, and'll be crosstraining with Nursing on Saturday morning, and Commerce (again) in the afternoon of the same day.
Full force, huh?
Memorable “effects” during the talkshow:
1. Bad hosts with thick rims of cue cards.
2. Dead air. Pecto talks. Dead air. Niño talks. Dead air. Mavy talks. Now where the hell’s the Engineering team?
3. Pecto’s desire to be famous, and his bickering for me to do the same.
4. Niño’s butting in with "I have something to say..." while the host says, “Moving on…”
5. Phyleep’s bisexuality. He kisses your hand and starts prattling about how he loves you. Flirtatious, huh?
6. The “so gay” set design.
7. The schizo segment producer named Ivy, who, by the way, needs a lot of life organizing to do.
8. The smelly Zesto juice.
9. Knowing various debate traits: bitched-out, drug-high, for-the-grade, I-want-to-be-seen-on-TV, never-debater and Mavy’s very own “I’m bored, let’s go home and sleep?”
Hehe. What the devil?!
***
My sleeping disorder is getting worse by the minute.
I’ve been arriving home each night, past 10 p.m., and at the same time, scrambling to turn on the PC. I turn on the messenger and start my off-peak routine.
I don’t sleep. And even if I try to, I’m not successful enough. Sleep dawns on me in between 4-5 a.m. Or if I’m really lucky, I’m able to doze off at 3 a.m. – The very reason why I wasn’t able to attend my Chem300Lab Class today.
I’m at a loss, for heaven’s sake.
Please, let this not be a new crisis.
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Lost in Lassitude
Almost just got home from training and my eyes are slowly turning into sodden carpets. Not that I cry a lot, but due to lack of sleep.
Each day, I end up going home at past nine in the evening. Not that I’m complaining. I’m having lots of fun, honestly. Do I even have to tell you why?
I debate.
I log in the messenger with no one but myself to chat with. Everybody’s dozing off to Neverland, while I’m here typing down words of lethargy.
I feel like I have this unrequited need for sleep. I know it sounds idiotic, but forgive me, I’m a bit groggy right now.
***
I’m back to being whip, by the way. I’m still in the same team, only, Krista and I exchanged speaker roles. I feel pleased. I’m more passionate as a third speaker, in a devilish way of course.
But I still hail Krista’s take on the issue analysis bit.
Okay, enough about that.
***
I finally had the chance to print poems of Amalin and other poets in the Lost Generation. Without a doubt, I didn’t fritter away with ink, see their works are fabulous. Only, you hardly find people who appreciate those kinds of literature. Good thing most of the people in CSTP are mad about those imageries.
As promised, here’s one I can’t seem to get out of my mind lately. It’s by a poet whose pseudonym is givemehistory. Anyone who knows what camina conmigo means may freely disturb me at any time.
chemic
by lamplight I write letters to myself,
describing the feel of rough loving
splinters etched along my spine, or
lost umbrella spokes lining the insides
of my bones, flea-ridden heart creaking
at the memory of you two months ago,
cutting your tongue on the edge
of an envelope containing a love letter.
I learned the trick from you:
when you would run butterfly touches
over bulletholes, sighing as linen
grazed your eyelashes and murmuring
sobriquets into soft surfaces -
flannel / skin / green grass and
kissing the corpses of moths that
died from ink poisoning during the night.
camina conmigo, you whispered,
and smiled when I imitated those
fairest of elegies and fluttered,
shadowy paradoxical, into your light.
those cunning words lost themselves
in the creases of my elbows and
evaporated into the air I breathe,
and like a child underwater I can only
exhale, giving you away with each
syllable tossed to the paper, aflame;
saint, sinner, my very own undertaker:
(the moths churn steadily in the night,
beating their wings against the undried
ink that stain the tips of their freedom)
and I fall like a star into your grave.
See what I mean? Another one of those good shits, ain't it? Heehee.
***
I'll be having an interview with TOMCAT tomorrow, by the way. Ermm, something to do with the Crossfire competition. It's more of a talkshow actually.
Yikes. Show business!
Somebody kill me before I get exploited.
Haha. Nah. Kidding.
You just need to act timid at times to avoid too much blabbering.
Take it from my indifference.
Each day, I end up going home at past nine in the evening. Not that I’m complaining. I’m having lots of fun, honestly. Do I even have to tell you why?
I debate.
I log in the messenger with no one but myself to chat with. Everybody’s dozing off to Neverland, while I’m here typing down words of lethargy.
I feel like I have this unrequited need for sleep. I know it sounds idiotic, but forgive me, I’m a bit groggy right now.
***
I’m back to being whip, by the way. I’m still in the same team, only, Krista and I exchanged speaker roles. I feel pleased. I’m more passionate as a third speaker, in a devilish way of course.
But I still hail Krista’s take on the issue analysis bit.
Okay, enough about that.
***
I finally had the chance to print poems of Amalin and other poets in the Lost Generation. Without a doubt, I didn’t fritter away with ink, see their works are fabulous. Only, you hardly find people who appreciate those kinds of literature. Good thing most of the people in CSTP are mad about those imageries.
As promised, here’s one I can’t seem to get out of my mind lately. It’s by a poet whose pseudonym is givemehistory. Anyone who knows what camina conmigo means may freely disturb me at any time.
chemic
by lamplight I write letters to myself,
describing the feel of rough loving
splinters etched along my spine, or
lost umbrella spokes lining the insides
of my bones, flea-ridden heart creaking
at the memory of you two months ago,
cutting your tongue on the edge
of an envelope containing a love letter.
I learned the trick from you:
when you would run butterfly touches
over bulletholes, sighing as linen
grazed your eyelashes and murmuring
sobriquets into soft surfaces -
flannel / skin / green grass and
kissing the corpses of moths that
died from ink poisoning during the night.
camina conmigo, you whispered,
and smiled when I imitated those
fairest of elegies and fluttered,
shadowy paradoxical, into your light.
those cunning words lost themselves
in the creases of my elbows and
evaporated into the air I breathe,
and like a child underwater I can only
exhale, giving you away with each
syllable tossed to the paper, aflame;
saint, sinner, my very own undertaker:
(the moths churn steadily in the night,
beating their wings against the undried
ink that stain the tips of their freedom)
and I fall like a star into your grave.
See what I mean? Another one of those good shits, ain't it? Heehee.
***
I'll be having an interview with TOMCAT tomorrow, by the way. Ermm, something to do with the Crossfire competition. It's more of a talkshow actually.
Yikes. Show business!
Somebody kill me before I get exploited.
Haha. Nah. Kidding.
You just need to act timid at times to avoid too much blabbering.
Take it from my indifference.
Saturday, January 07, 2006
Talking in my Sleep
Gotta love cross-training. Hehe. We had one with Commerce Debate Team and TDC Open awhile ago. It was an erudition-experience. I get to adjudicate for the first time. Well, formally, that is.
Franz (former TDC debater, and a very, very good one at that) commended me for the job.
The seminar was well worth the wait. I got new points, as well as motions, to assess at home.
I’m at awe for debaters!
I have a new team, composed of Allen (as 1st), Krista (as 3rd), and I (as 2nd). I love being whip, but Pecto insists that I go constructive. Wish me luck, Dialectics will be on the 28th and 29th of January. My training as 2nd speaker would only be made through for barely a week. We won’t have trainings the week before prelims.
I’d still be doing whip for Crossfire though (around 1st week of February). Can’t be more excited. It is a big privilege to represent Science.
If all goes well for this semester’s competitions, I might tryout for TDC at the start of the next schoolyear. But surely, I won’t leave CSTP, not even the journal.
It’s one way to keep myself busy, and to rally round my mind not to wander off.
We won in Softball today, by the way.
This has to be my lucky day! (Unintentionally made a rhyme here. *smirks*)
***
I need to study hard on my Analytical Chemistry Laboratory lessons. I think I failed the last quiz. Just don’t want my academics to be handled carelessly just because of trainings.
Not that I’m slowly turning into a geek or a workaholic lately. I’m just beginning to devote myself to learning more.
Love only kills, anyhow.
***
If there’s anything I need right now, it’s sleep, and perchance, some time to study. That’d be all.
And for the nth time, I cannot be any more contented with my life than I already am now. Three cheers!
Kat’s an angel! *mwah to you* She’s sending me more of Amalin’s work through mail. Yipee. I’ll post the good ones in my blog, err, that is if they’d all fit here.
I haven’t been reading much lately. I mean literature, obviously. Textbooks won’t leave me be and die their natural death, for the simple reason that they’re non-living.
Nonetheless, I’d be cutting this post short because my eyes are screaming for respite. For idiots who can’t understand, I demand pillows and sheets!
Franz (former TDC debater, and a very, very good one at that) commended me for the job.
The seminar was well worth the wait. I got new points, as well as motions, to assess at home.
I’m at awe for debaters!
I have a new team, composed of Allen (as 1st), Krista (as 3rd), and I (as 2nd). I love being whip, but Pecto insists that I go constructive. Wish me luck, Dialectics will be on the 28th and 29th of January. My training as 2nd speaker would only be made through for barely a week. We won’t have trainings the week before prelims.
I’d still be doing whip for Crossfire though (around 1st week of February). Can’t be more excited. It is a big privilege to represent Science.
If all goes well for this semester’s competitions, I might tryout for TDC at the start of the next schoolyear. But surely, I won’t leave CSTP, not even the journal.
It’s one way to keep myself busy, and to rally round my mind not to wander off.
We won in Softball today, by the way.
This has to be my lucky day! (Unintentionally made a rhyme here. *smirks*)
***
I need to study hard on my Analytical Chemistry Laboratory lessons. I think I failed the last quiz. Just don’t want my academics to be handled carelessly just because of trainings.
Not that I’m slowly turning into a geek or a workaholic lately. I’m just beginning to devote myself to learning more.
Love only kills, anyhow.
***
If there’s anything I need right now, it’s sleep, and perchance, some time to study. That’d be all.
And for the nth time, I cannot be any more contented with my life than I already am now. Three cheers!
Kat’s an angel! *mwah to you* She’s sending me more of Amalin’s work through mail. Yipee. I’ll post the good ones in my blog, err, that is if they’d all fit here.
I haven’t been reading much lately. I mean literature, obviously. Textbooks won’t leave me be and die their natural death, for the simple reason that they’re non-living.
Nonetheless, I’d be cutting this post short because my eyes are screaming for respite. For idiots who can’t understand, I demand pillows and sheets!
Friday, January 06, 2006
Death Wishes
We all have our own version of bad hair days… And sometimes, the hair isn’t the root of all evil.
Such a squirrel description.
***
How many specters and phantoms do you have?
I have plenty – just innumerable.
It’s a good thing I’m able to help other people, for the sake of doing something that Jess’d love and be happy about. Lately, I have dedicated most of my time to the journal and debate that I rarely have time for him. He knows keeping myself unwearied – moreover, long-suffering – is rare to my current daylight collection.
Yet I just fancy breakages nowadays.
***
Just had a “pious” conversation with a BS Psych friend.
Despite and inspite of my psychotic tendencies, those are but instinctive and normal after all.
The death wishes had their rational reasons, no matter how perverse they are. Heh.
I’m enlightened by those people who value my perplexity. You see, in a world where most things are liberal and unconventional, you can’t do much if you’re bashed. It’s part of our nature to do those after all.
I enjoy both my bafflement and indifference. I wonder what it’s like for you.
I seldom hear people actually savoring the sight of a blood-painted hand.
I, on the other hand, would adore its faulty shadows.
Words are my weapons, my guns; each letter, a bullet waiting to be shot and pronounced in unfilled air. That’s why I would never draw such closeness that would keep fires frozen and judgments mystified.
Look at me when you’re afraid… Don’t worry, we both are.
I’m mortified for having myself all drawn out in decks and sands. In lips and rains.
In golds and blacks.
Most of the time, it leaves me wondering where I had left my innocence and my empathy. They’re all swollen, if not eaten up by maggots. I really do not know how else to make people know and understand. Dammit.
So which sends you to fondle my anxieties and my aggressions?
Leave me be. Just do, but
Just always come back.
Such a squirrel description.
***
How many specters and phantoms do you have?
I have plenty – just innumerable.
It’s a good thing I’m able to help other people, for the sake of doing something that Jess’d love and be happy about. Lately, I have dedicated most of my time to the journal and debate that I rarely have time for him. He knows keeping myself unwearied – moreover, long-suffering – is rare to my current daylight collection.
Yet I just fancy breakages nowadays.
***
Just had a “pious” conversation with a BS Psych friend.
Despite and inspite of my psychotic tendencies, those are but instinctive and normal after all.
The death wishes had their rational reasons, no matter how perverse they are. Heh.
I’m enlightened by those people who value my perplexity. You see, in a world where most things are liberal and unconventional, you can’t do much if you’re bashed. It’s part of our nature to do those after all.
I enjoy both my bafflement and indifference. I wonder what it’s like for you.
I seldom hear people actually savoring the sight of a blood-painted hand.
I, on the other hand, would adore its faulty shadows.
Words are my weapons, my guns; each letter, a bullet waiting to be shot and pronounced in unfilled air. That’s why I would never draw such closeness that would keep fires frozen and judgments mystified.
Look at me when you’re afraid… Don’t worry, we both are.
I’m mortified for having myself all drawn out in decks and sands. In lips and rains.
In golds and blacks.
Most of the time, it leaves me wondering where I had left my innocence and my empathy. They’re all swollen, if not eaten up by maggots. I really do not know how else to make people know and understand. Dammit.
So which sends you to fondle my anxieties and my aggressions?
Leave me be. Just do, but
Just always come back.
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
Bayside and Waterlogged
She adored butterflies and rainbows. Only now she craves to lick blood out of dried tapestry.
A demigod. A singular incarnation of sleep.
When nightmares are all that make her dream…
Dream the fool’s metaphors and sonnets.
Dream in delusional locks.
Please don’t feign her sleep…
©Mavy 010406
***
Judy, Cla – I miss you both!
Hrmm… Unforeseenly, I’m not late for my first subject today. Yet, I had to suffer the effect of my early morning syndrome – forgetting my I.D.
I had to pretend like I was from some province and actually left my I.D. there during the Christmas break. The mediocre performance paid off. The security guard let me in the main building after a series of Q&A.
***
I’m currently fond of the Pinoy band Join the Club.
Think Nobela.
I delivered one of my blog entries in class awhile ago. In place of a reflection paper that I should not have idled upon the other night, I was forced to read the Yearender piece.
I had to do impromptu editing while reciting barely half of it. Pao said I didn’t do justice to my own work. Well, what the hell. Didn’t want to go all sappy there.
A demigod. A singular incarnation of sleep.
When nightmares are all that make her dream…
Dream the fool’s metaphors and sonnets.
Dream in delusional locks.
Please don’t feign her sleep…
©Mavy 010406
***
Judy, Cla – I miss you both!
Hrmm… Unforeseenly, I’m not late for my first subject today. Yet, I had to suffer the effect of my early morning syndrome – forgetting my I.D.
I had to pretend like I was from some province and actually left my I.D. there during the Christmas break. The mediocre performance paid off. The security guard let me in the main building after a series of Q&A.
***
I’m currently fond of the Pinoy band Join the Club.
Think Nobela.
I delivered one of my blog entries in class awhile ago. In place of a reflection paper that I should not have idled upon the other night, I was forced to read the Yearender piece.
I had to do impromptu editing while reciting barely half of it. Pao said I didn’t do justice to my own work. Well, what the hell. Didn’t want to go all sappy there.
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
Forrest Gump and 100 Ways to Cook a Rotten Egg
Take me back to school, will ya’?
How can I not hate school if it’d mean waking up at 5:30 in the early morning every single day? I end up coming earlier than the sunrise, for crying out loud! Cent fearlessly predicts my being late on first day. I second the motion.
***
Well, well. My first post for the year. I’ve been reading a couple of blogs lately, and I envy their spectacular, brilliant designs. You all know how inept I am when it comes to formatting and shit. Well, cut me some slack, it is black – so me.
More and more people are starting to read my blog, and I really don’t know if I should react gaily, bashfully or hysterically. Special mention to the last three people who pinned their messages on my tagboard: Maja (I’m missing you a lot.), Mabel (I’m still wondering how you got into my blog. Nevertheless, I saw yours; great work!) and Mico (Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year… It’s been a long time. **smiles almost lifelessly**).
God, did it rain m’s there!
***
So everyone’s writing about their resolutions. I, on the other hand, honestly haven’t thought about one yet.
Well, this is a good start! *grins* Atleast, I’m in the precipice of realizing what I want to make out of my life.
Or maybe not.
***
My sister and I have been aficionadas lately for Kris Aquino’s Pasko na, Game KNB?. And being that she’s very much into culinary and the likes, we got into our own version of the 15-second-game enumerating 100 ways of how to cook an egg. I’m a sucker because I was only fluky enough to mention five.
But, no harm done. Kim (my sister) was only able to give four.
It was only after half an hour that we realized we’re disarraying the game’s mechanics because surely you won’t be able to enumerate all 100 answers in fifteen seconds. Not unless you can actually beat the fastest rapper on earth!
***
Happy New Year! – and I almost forgot that.
I have no wishes, nor hopes for this year, and I wouldn’t want to negate that with a but or an except.
By now, I think we should simmer down on the expectations and desires. Life is made up with spontaneity, and surely we wouldn’t want its existence to spoil our year.
So just take a deep breath and live life both seriously and not-so-seriously. Forrest Gump’s mother’s chocolates don’t have an expiration date. So be patient, and if there’s anything you’d better anticipate, that’d be His special blessings and His undying presence.
There’s a time for everything, contradictory to our parish priest’s saying that life is too short. If it didn’t come, don’t think of it as something not destined for you. Instead, let it be a memoir that’ll hark back far better and more beautiful things, beings, ahead.
Piece of my mind: GOD IS GOOD, ONLY IF YOU GIVE HIM ENOUGH REASON TO BE.
So enjoy 2006, and some words of advice (if you want luck, that is):
Be kind to dogs.
How can I not hate school if it’d mean waking up at 5:30 in the early morning every single day? I end up coming earlier than the sunrise, for crying out loud! Cent fearlessly predicts my being late on first day. I second the motion.
***
Well, well. My first post for the year. I’ve been reading a couple of blogs lately, and I envy their spectacular, brilliant designs. You all know how inept I am when it comes to formatting and shit. Well, cut me some slack, it is black – so me.
More and more people are starting to read my blog, and I really don’t know if I should react gaily, bashfully or hysterically. Special mention to the last three people who pinned their messages on my tagboard: Maja (I’m missing you a lot.), Mabel (I’m still wondering how you got into my blog. Nevertheless, I saw yours; great work!) and Mico (Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year… It’s been a long time. **smiles almost lifelessly**).
God, did it rain m’s there!
***
So everyone’s writing about their resolutions. I, on the other hand, honestly haven’t thought about one yet.
Well, this is a good start! *grins* Atleast, I’m in the precipice of realizing what I want to make out of my life.
Or maybe not.
***
My sister and I have been aficionadas lately for Kris Aquino’s Pasko na, Game KNB?. And being that she’s very much into culinary and the likes, we got into our own version of the 15-second-game enumerating 100 ways of how to cook an egg. I’m a sucker because I was only fluky enough to mention five.
But, no harm done. Kim (my sister) was only able to give four.
It was only after half an hour that we realized we’re disarraying the game’s mechanics because surely you won’t be able to enumerate all 100 answers in fifteen seconds. Not unless you can actually beat the fastest rapper on earth!
***
Happy New Year! – and I almost forgot that.
I have no wishes, nor hopes for this year, and I wouldn’t want to negate that with a but or an except.
By now, I think we should simmer down on the expectations and desires. Life is made up with spontaneity, and surely we wouldn’t want its existence to spoil our year.
So just take a deep breath and live life both seriously and not-so-seriously. Forrest Gump’s mother’s chocolates don’t have an expiration date. So be patient, and if there’s anything you’d better anticipate, that’d be His special blessings and His undying presence.
There’s a time for everything, contradictory to our parish priest’s saying that life is too short. If it didn’t come, don’t think of it as something not destined for you. Instead, let it be a memoir that’ll hark back far better and more beautiful things, beings, ahead.
Piece of my mind: GOD IS GOOD, ONLY IF YOU GIVE HIM ENOUGH REASON TO BE.
So enjoy 2006, and some words of advice (if you want luck, that is):
Be kind to dogs.
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