What to say, everyone^s going ballistic because of the not-so-sudden turn of events. A commander was ousted, the Philippines is under the state of emergency, and our president^s out in the streets mingling with the “selected” poor as if nothing^s happened.
Anyhow, enough about politics.
Yesterday, Nino^s team bagged the trophy for the championship round of Dialectics ^06. Couldn^t be any prouder for him. ^_^ Pecto also won the 2nd overall best speaker title. Just enough for his constant ego-fluffing. Krista also did so well as one of the quarterfinalists of the Public Speaking Contest. Im so happy that Science is really leveling up with the other teams who joined the competition.
I^ll be missing debate a lot. That is, for the next few weeks.
I^ve finally decided. Im joining TDC by the end of this schoolyear.
TDC is absorbing both Science Teams A & B, as official members of their organization. Im floored for getting a lot of invites (especially one coming from Ate Cy -- TDC^s current trainer and this year^s Dialectics chief adjudicator).
Kat and Dennis will be joining as well.
***
I bought a new pet, a fighting fish I named Greggy. Go figure.
He^s for our lab experiment on Wednesday, however, I decided to buy him a home and keep him for good -- that is, if we^re not told to dissect him.
A seemingly abrupt shift to my academics is killing me.
The unconscious me is still arguing about uniform curriculums and terrorist organizations. Heh.
I just watched Munich a couple of hours ago. Another attempt of Steven Spielberg in the Oscar scene to remake the genre of his old movie Schindler^s List. I loved the goriness and the authenticity of the film. It^s beautiful, especially if you happen to understand the history behind the Israel-Palestine Conflict, the PLO, the Palestinian Authority, and a little of Hamas.
It^s an awesome flick to watch, especially if you^re matterloading. Sometimes, killing ain^t bad, most excusably if someone mocked you first. I was enduringly fascinated by bomb-making tactics, and Im sure you^ll have that same feeling once you see Eric Bana^s colleague making grenades in sync with televisions and bed mattresses. Makes you want to sleep inside the cabinet instead. Heehee.
But it^s a must see. And frankly, I loved it more than Brokeback Mountain – in an epic way, just the same. Ooh. (Although it did lack the character-centralizing that Ang Lee^s so good at -- Mavy worships.)
Go watch.
Monday, February 27, 2006
Saturday, February 25, 2006
Monster World
Whatever happened to nationalism? If Jose Rizal were alive, he would^ve frowned at the elite-not sight of each urban street nowadays.
No classes yesterday, not even this morning.
Politics in the Philippines is never great. I don^t know if the crab-mentality of Filipinos pays off sometimes, for we never really had a good president. That is, of course, not minding the fact we^ve had a democratic system for twenty years now. The blame should go to everyone.
The Hello, Garci scam is but a mere end of a pitchfork that barely touches what^s beneath the haystack. We vote them, we place them there. We never are contented, are we?
Even if we scratch off half of the cheated ballots, have we ever asked ourselves, what do we do to correct the mindset of the other half who really picked the wrong? What do we do afterwards; do we advocate another icon in the entertainment field?
Or do we even think of what to do next?
EDSA Revolution was born to take witness to nationalism, and not to chauvinism. It is but mere tradition, or worse, habit for people to immediately resort to ^People Power^ so as to grasp at a hasty solution, a change much deemed for than the development of our society. But imagine a yearly escapade of rallies in EDSA so as to celebrate the so-called democracy in this country.
History would simply turn meaningless if priceless holidays are turned into everyday events.
That is what you see in the streets today.
We always want a solution to each problem. That^s only normal. But what we lately realize is the evident possibility for some of these ^solutions^ to be problems themselves. We never pause to wait, to endure the occurrences that are happening. We easily forget that it was us who let them be, us who created them. In return for neglecting such sacrifice, we toil our lands each day without any direction, and still with no profound progress in neither our economy nor any other aspect of our nation, just the same.
I wouldn^t go all inspirational here. I only want to acknowledge the problem floating in the polluted air of the Philippines. Solutions? I honestly do not know any effective way to rid us of all the delusions, or point forward, to alleviate people from poverty.
I^d never start describing the characteristics of an idealistic venture and a utopian society, for I do not know what makes either one.
I roughly remember this certain line by Michelle Yeoh in the movie Memoirs of a Geisha, ^We^re not geishas because of our desires, we are geishas because we have no choice.^
Ermm, I guess same goes for being a Filipino. I know I am bad at parallelism and I acknowledge that pretty imperfection. Yet I guess that^s how we Filipinos are. We always want things our way -- bad president, get me a new one! We can even compete with children^s tantrums for new toy airplanes. Okay, enough of the analogies, Mavy.
But so we remain standing, yet still divided by countless desires. If only perfection is easily attained -- if it does exist. After all, we never really stop thinking about our personal wants, it^s innate in the Filipino nature.
A stress on my belief: Solutions will come for us, so long as we learn to bear with time and wait.
There^s still time. So be it.
No classes yesterday, not even this morning.
Politics in the Philippines is never great. I don^t know if the crab-mentality of Filipinos pays off sometimes, for we never really had a good president. That is, of course, not minding the fact we^ve had a democratic system for twenty years now. The blame should go to everyone.
The Hello, Garci scam is but a mere end of a pitchfork that barely touches what^s beneath the haystack. We vote them, we place them there. We never are contented, are we?
Even if we scratch off half of the cheated ballots, have we ever asked ourselves, what do we do to correct the mindset of the other half who really picked the wrong? What do we do afterwards; do we advocate another icon in the entertainment field?
Or do we even think of what to do next?
EDSA Revolution was born to take witness to nationalism, and not to chauvinism. It is but mere tradition, or worse, habit for people to immediately resort to ^People Power^ so as to grasp at a hasty solution, a change much deemed for than the development of our society. But imagine a yearly escapade of rallies in EDSA so as to celebrate the so-called democracy in this country.
History would simply turn meaningless if priceless holidays are turned into everyday events.
That is what you see in the streets today.
We always want a solution to each problem. That^s only normal. But what we lately realize is the evident possibility for some of these ^solutions^ to be problems themselves. We never pause to wait, to endure the occurrences that are happening. We easily forget that it was us who let them be, us who created them. In return for neglecting such sacrifice, we toil our lands each day without any direction, and still with no profound progress in neither our economy nor any other aspect of our nation, just the same.I wouldn^t go all inspirational here. I only want to acknowledge the problem floating in the polluted air of the Philippines. Solutions? I honestly do not know any effective way to rid us of all the delusions, or point forward, to alleviate people from poverty.
I^d never start describing the characteristics of an idealistic venture and a utopian society, for I do not know what makes either one.
I roughly remember this certain line by Michelle Yeoh in the movie Memoirs of a Geisha, ^We^re not geishas because of our desires, we are geishas because we have no choice.^
Ermm, I guess same goes for being a Filipino. I know I am bad at parallelism and I acknowledge that pretty imperfection. Yet I guess that^s how we Filipinos are. We always want things our way -- bad president, get me a new one! We can even compete with children^s tantrums for new toy airplanes. Okay, enough of the analogies, Mavy.
But so we remain standing, yet still divided by countless desires. If only perfection is easily attained -- if it does exist. After all, we never really stop thinking about our personal wants, it^s innate in the Filipino nature.
A stress on my belief: Solutions will come for us, so long as we learn to bear with time and wait.
There^s still time. So be it.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Vendo Assassination
I hate vending machines and how they malfunction at the wrong time, and at the wrong person. Imagine, having forty bucks left in your purse, and all you wanted was to awaken your mind with a ten-peso worth of caffeine. The supposed hi-tech food giver eats up your twenty bucks and in less than a minute, dawns you with two awful news:
- No change.
- No coffee.
Ergo, its laughter reverberates like ^a living thing^ inside your frustrated mind.
It^s official. Now, you only have a twenty-peso bill to suffice your necessities for the remaining days of the week.
***
I may not be that high-end in my academics, but I sure do know how to study well. If so just to give myself the bliss when it comes to working with extracurricular activities. Even though most, if not all, of the time I come home really late and with my eyelids half-covering my eyes, I still manage to make studying a dispute within myself.
If I can do it, I don^t see any reason why others cannot do that for themselves. Let alone the fact that I have more things at hand than any ordinary student. And I wouldn^t even have to stress that with an example, just my being irregular tells a whole lot about what I have in store for me each day, and even each night.
I guess we do have responsibilities, different ones, to attend to. Something we shouldn^t merely depend on others or for our peers to compensate with for us. After all, it is something you owe to yourself; straightforwardly said, something you should atleast try doing on your own.
***
What^s with Commerce debaters, or people, in general? It seems that most of my debate friends in Science are getting titillated at the sight of their parliament members – call it odd similarities between all of us.
Ermm, although Im still not that sure if I should be counted in on that.
I badly miss training. I feel my neurons corroding in their current stagnancy. I could only let Nino borrow my matter and watch him train for the quarters. I couldn^t even read some for my own fulfillment, for, of course, it^d only be so silly on my part.
I wouldn^t be debating on Sunday, anyhow.
(Atleast there^s food, though. And that is enough reason for me to be there.)
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Sheepish and Content
I was finally able to watch Brokeback Mountain last Friday night (and that was after the hilarious performances in Science Week^s variety show). It was a good flick. Wasn^t wasting a single cent from my pocket, or from Carrie^s, that is.
Why are you sleeping on your feet?
I wish I knew how to quit you…
Jack Twist was gay sugarcoat in the making. I just can’t help but love him.
When do you get the chance to be loved by someone so deeply, that even you can^t bear to find the means to unfree yourself from his embrace? I usually choke at cliches, and I never did like the concoction of sheep, sceneries and gay cowboys. But where did it lead me?
Brokeback Mountain. My feet in between the ashes and remains of Ennis and Jack^s memories.
Simply stated, a movie that tells you how identifying love is parallel to accepting the reality of your emotions. How love is never about mainstream sickness, but differences fathomed by the human heart.
***
I remember asking myself, is there a price to pay for wanting more than the ^should-be^?
Indeed, you can never have everything.
No one can.
The last two were, as clairvoyantly said, my last debates. And I doubt at the possibility of future consolations. Even jams are analogous to trash for me these days.
Im happy for having gone this far. For being invited to join TDC, for being part of Science Team A, for being trained as one hell of a whip! Im proud to carry the battle-cry of my college of which that says they, debaters or not, should definitely not argue with us.
God, will I miss the trainings. A month, or probably more, of no blood circulating in my system, no passion to satisfy my inconsistencies. *sigh*
Nikki, Nino, Krista, Allen, Kat, Em, Julius, Carrie, Den-Den, Pecto, Jhunnie, Stephen, Vinz. I could go on for ages if I^d try typing all your names. But just a promise here, we’ll see better debaters next year -- all of us besting each and every unbeliever of our capabilities.
*damn* There goes Dialectics, right past my foresight.
Here’s to unsweetened victory.
Why are you sleeping on your feet?
I wish I knew how to quit you…
Jack Twist was gay sugarcoat in the making. I just can’t help but love him.
When do you get the chance to be loved by someone so deeply, that even you can^t bear to find the means to unfree yourself from his embrace? I usually choke at cliches, and I never did like the concoction of sheep, sceneries and gay cowboys. But where did it lead me?
Brokeback Mountain. My feet in between the ashes and remains of Ennis and Jack^s memories.
Simply stated, a movie that tells you how identifying love is parallel to accepting the reality of your emotions. How love is never about mainstream sickness, but differences fathomed by the human heart.***
I remember asking myself, is there a price to pay for wanting more than the ^should-be^?
Indeed, you can never have everything.
No one can.
The last two were, as clairvoyantly said, my last debates. And I doubt at the possibility of future consolations. Even jams are analogous to trash for me these days.
Im happy for having gone this far. For being invited to join TDC, for being part of Science Team A, for being trained as one hell of a whip! Im proud to carry the battle-cry of my college of which that says they, debaters or not, should definitely not argue with us.
God, will I miss the trainings. A month, or probably more, of no blood circulating in my system, no passion to satisfy my inconsistencies. *sigh*
Nikki, Nino, Krista, Allen, Kat, Em, Julius, Carrie, Den-Den, Pecto, Jhunnie, Stephen, Vinz. I could go on for ages if I^d try typing all your names. But just a promise here, we’ll see better debaters next year -- all of us besting each and every unbeliever of our capabilities.
*damn* There goes Dialectics, right past my foresight.
Here’s to unsweetened victory.
Thursday, February 16, 2006
The Cow has a Barn
I have two stupid questions: Is toothpaste edible? If it is, would you die eating a whole tube of it? Just some products of boredom.
Okay, so it’s nearing Sunday again. I better start pounding my head on the wall to make it function well in the last two debates. Atleast, I think they’d be my last. Team A had a pep talk last night, had to address some of the “issues”. Hopefully, the next matches would be effortlessly brushed off.
We need to win.
***
I’m watching Brokeback Mountain tomorrow, before or after training, with the CSTP guys (and girls). Talk about matter-loading for minority rights and sex education. *claps* I have to commend Heath Ledger in advance, for the awe-striking performance. Jake is such a loss for girls. Go figure. Oh, and Anne Hathaway seems pretty convincing with a sluttish personality.
I can’t decide whether I should start studying for my laboratory practical test tomorrow or Saturday night. Clearly, my brain cells won’t be functioning effectively then. Call it pre-Dialectics jitters.
***
Too bad I wasn’t able to pass the requirements for the National Writers’ Workshop last 15th. It intentionally slipped out of my mind. Maybe I was too busy with debate. After Dialectics, I seriously need a lot of catching up to do. From chemistry, to the journal, to the cookbook, to Dan Brown and finally to the flicks’ list. Someone put toothpicks in between my eyelids!
And I almost forgot the speech for the testimonial mass tomorrow. (yells frantically)
Happy Post-Valentine’s everyone. Be sure to make up for all the losses and to pat yourself on the back if you’ve achieved otherwise.
Okay, so it’s nearing Sunday again. I better start pounding my head on the wall to make it function well in the last two debates. Atleast, I think they’d be my last. Team A had a pep talk last night, had to address some of the “issues”. Hopefully, the next matches would be effortlessly brushed off.
We need to win.
***
I’m watching Brokeback Mountain tomorrow, before or after training, with the CSTP guys (and girls). Talk about matter-loading for minority rights and sex education. *claps* I have to commend Heath Ledger in advance, for the awe-striking performance. Jake is such a loss for girls. Go figure. Oh, and Anne Hathaway seems pretty convincing with a sluttish personality.
I can’t decide whether I should start studying for my laboratory practical test tomorrow or Saturday night. Clearly, my brain cells won’t be functioning effectively then. Call it pre-Dialectics jitters.
***
Too bad I wasn’t able to pass the requirements for the National Writers’ Workshop last 15th. It intentionally slipped out of my mind. Maybe I was too busy with debate. After Dialectics, I seriously need a lot of catching up to do. From chemistry, to the journal, to the cookbook, to Dan Brown and finally to the flicks’ list. Someone put toothpicks in between my eyelids!
And I almost forgot the speech for the testimonial mass tomorrow. (yells frantically)
Happy Post-Valentine’s everyone. Be sure to make up for all the losses and to pat yourself on the back if you’ve achieved otherwise.
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
An Essay to Love
[I've a weird way of writing. Bleh. Take it as it is. A price is given to one that understands.]
Sometimes I write against used tissue papers, the pen blotting the ink to form the insignia of your name. We’ve grown too old to listen to fairytale endings, yet too young to realize they don’t exist.
So where do I start an essay to love? – a love that is flourished in a passion that is long dead.
I am indifferent… ignorant to the syllables of that familiar call. I tell them I’ve never known you, not even if the moon eats your shadows to recoil. We’ve set up boundaries… distances of far away bridges that never really taught me what it is to forget you.
When I play with the cracks of parchment on black tint, I am reminded of your bluntness. Something that never gave me pure acknowledgment and willingness to be an apprentice to your truth.
Do we write messages on sand? The waves have wounded their right to blistering permanence; I told you that the sky was randomly vandalized ever since.
So which are you – the cluttered clouds on Sunday mornings, or the painted canopies of naked women? You never did make sense, didn’t you? You did.
So I start my worship to your inevitable greatness; one that sucks at my scarlet proof. I lay before this hour without ever undoing a mistake of forever blinding you.
This is my heart. A wretched bewilderment to my scatter, to my drug.
An essay to love defeat.
Sometimes I write against used tissue papers, the pen blotting the ink to form the insignia of your name. We’ve grown too old to listen to fairytale endings, yet too young to realize they don’t exist.
So where do I start an essay to love? – a love that is flourished in a passion that is long dead.
I am indifferent… ignorant to the syllables of that familiar call. I tell them I’ve never known you, not even if the moon eats your shadows to recoil. We’ve set up boundaries… distances of far away bridges that never really taught me what it is to forget you.
When I play with the cracks of parchment on black tint, I am reminded of your bluntness. Something that never gave me pure acknowledgment and willingness to be an apprentice to your truth.
Do we write messages on sand? The waves have wounded their right to blistering permanence; I told you that the sky was randomly vandalized ever since.
So which are you – the cluttered clouds on Sunday mornings, or the painted canopies of naked women? You never did make sense, didn’t you? You did.
So I start my worship to your inevitable greatness; one that sucks at my scarlet proof. I lay before this hour without ever undoing a mistake of forever blinding you.
This is my heart. A wretched bewilderment to my scatter, to my drug.
An essay to love defeat.
Monday, February 13, 2006
Splintering in Valentine’s Eve
I get tired easily.
Just because your hands are attached in a way that laces farther than my anonymity. I think of how I’ve grown to revive a ridicule; a satiric verse that’s nothing but a tentative bunch of words to me.
Differences are hindrances. But I beg to clinch at their superb being. The irrationality makes me believe that there are more than just a thousand ways to build a road towards – below and above – who you are. Opposites attract, probably in physics, a course I loathe with all the damages in my brain. Now, where do I place myself?
To see you in the eyes of another’s is but the easiest manifestation. I am insane… and am rudely proud to be one.
But you are refined as glass. I took the breakage, a fracture insignificant to bitterness and passion. Somehow probing into the illusion that you are never here, although everything – including my mind – tells me otherwise.
Just because your hands are attached in a way that laces farther than my anonymity. I think of how I’ve grown to revive a ridicule; a satiric verse that’s nothing but a tentative bunch of words to me.
Differences are hindrances. But I beg to clinch at their superb being. The irrationality makes me believe that there are more than just a thousand ways to build a road towards – below and above – who you are. Opposites attract, probably in physics, a course I loathe with all the damages in my brain. Now, where do I place myself?
To see you in the eyes of another’s is but the easiest manifestation. I am insane… and am rudely proud to be one.
But you are refined as glass. I took the breakage, a fracture insignificant to bitterness and passion. Somehow probing into the illusion that you are never here, although everything – including my mind – tells me otherwise.
© Mavy 021306
Friday, February 10, 2006
The Beauty Criteria
Two days and counting. Dialectics is shadowing my footsteps, as Sunday tension creeps on my back. Do I even have time for myself? – I haven’t got a word for that.
We won against TDC Open Team C yesterday. The motion had something to do with the Muhammad cartoon, which is currently causing riots in Islamic countries and Denmark. Ate Cyris adjudicated the debate.
Lately, I’m being so capricious on printing and collating my matter for debate.
***
Campaigning period for the College of Science Student Council has turned into a friendster-slash-icon-ng-agham phenomenon these past few days. I have to immediately apologize to Cory – in case you’re reading this post – because she’s part of the COMELEC; no offense. I’m just beginning to wonder if the essence of leadership’s been sucked up not only in our national government, but even in small councils in schools. I mean, for crying out loud, we’re not voting you based on a beauty criteria, but on your supposed wits. Apparently though… (not to be continued.)
Mind you, I'm not generalizing. On the contrary, I am voting a couple of them, although I hate exercising my right to suffrage. I've completely lost the acknoledgement of its significance.
***
I died for a second. There’s a legend to his eyes.
Something that kills me each time I gaze at its pertinence.
I’m happy that each day I’m able to get a glimpse of him. Even if they’re but mere glances from the corners of my eyes. Atleast he does the same.
I’m not happy how days unroll like sand from an hourglass. Gradually, I grasp – it just cannot be.
Please aid me; this is an aggression.
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
Pre-Valentine's Sickness
A lot has happened in three of days of not writing in this blog.
- Good news and bad news of Niño. Got a bit rusty for not training in debate. Luckily though, I was able to hang on by a thread just a couple of hours ago.
- I got my prelim grade for Bio102Lab. Praise God for the passing mark.
- Lately, I’ve not been performing quite well for my chemistry lecture class.
- Change of speaker roles for Em, Nikki, Krista and Allen.
- Missed, or should I say cut, some classes.
- Science week preparations: the class shirt, a one-minute speech for Social Science, an usherette for CSJ.
- Back to gluttony.
- Finished writing for both Momentum and Mirage – now onto Momentong.
- I still can’t find my missing uniform.
- Vinz.
***
Apparently, – Kat’s word – I do not know if I should entertain the feeling or not. I mean, damn, there goes the shooting star right above my head. And it’s only up to me if I should acknowledge it to be the thing that it is to supposedly be – or what-have-you!
Blame it on stark serendipity! I mean, come on! What are the chances of him leaving his notebook right under your runny nose; of him meeting you the moment you arrive school the following day; of him also being trained and teamed up with Niño; of seeing him, yet again, in the hallways of your college building; and of him remembering your name, plus, the way it spells?
I hate it how he’s in his fourth year, and I’d only be joining in TDC once he graduates. I know, I know. I’ve always wanted to find a guy who’s into debate and who’s also in another college. But c’mon, can I even pull a stunt here? He’s way too gorgeous. And I can’t even make a logical flow on this paragraph because of him. I don’t know whether I should hate Niño for giving him my number or not. Besides, he speaks really sweetly. And man, those eyes… Sheesh.
The sky is falling, someone call Chicken Little.
Didn’t I warn you this’d mostly consist of illogical sentences?
Alright, I never really demanded that I get a Valentine just because the season’s playing right at every corner of each street. I am still contented with my life with or without him. Only though, I am starting to think about him more often than I should. Grrr.
Blame it on him having to adjudicate us yesterday; of him texting me Ingat!Ü; of him flashing that death-defying stare; of him and Cupid ganging up on me; and of him making me create a run-on sentence again. Grrr.
I can never be any more incoherent about such insanity.
Let me just leave it as it is.
For those who might know the cure for this illness, contact me here.
Sunday, February 05, 2006
Miasma
Sometimes blogging is not all about your daily experiences in life, but writing what you actually see and what is really happening in the world…
Many of us were deeply alarmed when a news broke out around 11am yesterday of the Wowowee stampede at the Ultra. Text messages perfected chain letters and chit-chat’s moved about with such dismay for the ABS-CBN Management.
As of 11:50 this morning, 74 people were counted dead and nearly 400 people injured in the unforeseen tragedy.
Grievances were simultaneously delivered, losses were simply innumerable.
A profound analysis would tell you how such an incident illustrates the desperation of Filipino people in such a rare chance to win, perhaps, the only thing that can make their families survive in such a trivial time. Hopes of winning a small fortune out of a hundred-thousand who were there, and fighting for a seat at the probability of changing their life were the only things these people could cling to considering our status quo.
Thousands of people, not even much of avid fans, flocking from different provinces and impoverished urban states – did we even think of helping them?
Now, grief isn’t really the feeling that dominates our hearts, but a certain guilt of which we call “pity” for never essentially caring for such things. The failure lies not only with the people who were vested with such authority in that particular event, but with the people – I as well – who never really paused for a time to mind, to be concerned.
I once loved the idea of diaspora and how I can earn lots of the greens if I do get the chance to work abroad, moreover, if it’d only mean not staying in such a deplorable state. But see where we take off? It only tells us of the mindset of many, of how we never really understood of huwag mong kalimutan ang iyong pinanggalingan. I affectionately remember how Dante’s Inferno would punish such “sinfuls” as letting them walk with their heads turned back.
We look at misfortune, but is it enough to merely see?
I feel for the losses, but honestly, I do not know how else to make things better. Even from a scratched work. But taking it as such, I see a haze in the path the Philippines has chosen to take.
There are occurrences that should serve as an imperative lesson to all.
Let this be one.
Many of us were deeply alarmed when a news broke out around 11am yesterday of the Wowowee stampede at the Ultra. Text messages perfected chain letters and chit-chat’s moved about with such dismay for the ABS-CBN Management.
As of 11:50 this morning, 74 people were counted dead and nearly 400 people injured in the unforeseen tragedy.
Grievances were simultaneously delivered, losses were simply innumerable.
A profound analysis would tell you how such an incident illustrates the desperation of Filipino people in such a rare chance to win, perhaps, the only thing that can make their families survive in such a trivial time. Hopes of winning a small fortune out of a hundred-thousand who were there, and fighting for a seat at the probability of changing their life were the only things these people could cling to considering our status quo.
Thousands of people, not even much of avid fans, flocking from different provinces and impoverished urban states – did we even think of helping them?
Now, grief isn’t really the feeling that dominates our hearts, but a certain guilt of which we call “pity” for never essentially caring for such things. The failure lies not only with the people who were vested with such authority in that particular event, but with the people – I as well – who never really paused for a time to mind, to be concerned.
I once loved the idea of diaspora and how I can earn lots of the greens if I do get the chance to work abroad, moreover, if it’d only mean not staying in such a deplorable state. But see where we take off? It only tells us of the mindset of many, of how we never really understood of huwag mong kalimutan ang iyong pinanggalingan. I affectionately remember how Dante’s Inferno would punish such “sinfuls” as letting them walk with their heads turned back.
We look at misfortune, but is it enough to merely see?
I feel for the losses, but honestly, I do not know how else to make things better. Even from a scratched work. But taking it as such, I see a haze in the path the Philippines has chosen to take.
There are occurrences that should serve as an imperative lesson to all.
Let this be one.
Thursday, February 02, 2006
Say Anecdote
I'm in the library... I need sleep, and apparently, I don't see any beds around here to rake me into heaven. I can't sleep on wooden tables. Besides, the chair's making my butt feel numb. Must be with the chilly atmosphere. People are not really that quiet in here; they're here to sleep.
I'm still easily irritated these wee hours. I guess the PMS is slowly sinking in my hormones. Heh. Well, what the hell, it is quite a contradiction that I never did experience any PMS know-how's ever since I started menstruating at 11 years old! Okay, forgive me for my bluntness. I need caffeine, lots of it.
I realized Valentine's starting to show signs of his coming. Much like Advent really. People are so into giving rose bouquets and heart pillows, which unknowingly make some people sick -- make me feel sick. And please, don't even think that I'm insecure of not getting any because I need not reassure my possessions, thank you very much.
But enough of the bitchiness. Worry not for I'd still be posting a special on that trivial holiday. I feel the need to, just because I love writing the ironies of such feelings. You all know what I mean.
Speaking of such, did you know that St. Valentine was actually a priest who secretly wedded young couples during the olden times? And then we ask ourselves, what would a priest know of love between a man and a woman?
***
When people slyly hate you, do they unintentionally copy the way you look? Just a thought.
I believe I'd never even think of doing that. Pity.
I'm still easily irritated these wee hours. I guess the PMS is slowly sinking in my hormones. Heh. Well, what the hell, it is quite a contradiction that I never did experience any PMS know-how's ever since I started menstruating at 11 years old! Okay, forgive me for my bluntness. I need caffeine, lots of it.
I realized Valentine's starting to show signs of his coming. Much like Advent really. People are so into giving rose bouquets and heart pillows, which unknowingly make some people sick -- make me feel sick. And please, don't even think that I'm insecure of not getting any because I need not reassure my possessions, thank you very much.
But enough of the bitchiness. Worry not for I'd still be posting a special on that trivial holiday. I feel the need to, just because I love writing the ironies of such feelings. You all know what I mean.
Speaking of such, did you know that St. Valentine was actually a priest who secretly wedded young couples during the olden times? And then we ask ourselves, what would a priest know of love between a man and a woman?
***
When people slyly hate you, do they unintentionally copy the way you look? Just a thought.
I believe I'd never even think of doing that. Pity.
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
For Crying Out Loud
Go eat the keyboard!
I’m under time pressure as my sister needs to use the computer in about five minutes from now. I badly need my old allowance rate back, plus I’m having a hard time budgeting my money for food – not that I eat regularly these days though.
I was a bit pissed off early this morning due to a particular reason, ermm, I’d rather not mention. One word: Sloth! Sheesh, I’m working my ass off and all you had to do is play like a schizo with a whining mouth! Let’s superficially recall the essence of common sense and obligations here.
***
I got a sheepish 77 for my prelim grade in my Analytical Chemistry lecture class. I’m fine with it, but I know I could’ve done better. So maybe I’ll just try to concentrate on my schedules more. I’m even starting to feel pressure on extracurricular shenanigans thrown into my hands.
But I’m enjoying being a workaholic. I get to take my mind off things that are essentially not worth any of my time. Say, crappy people?
***
Okay, okay I’m getting off the computer now. No need to get all irksome!
I’m under time pressure as my sister needs to use the computer in about five minutes from now. I badly need my old allowance rate back, plus I’m having a hard time budgeting my money for food – not that I eat regularly these days though.
I was a bit pissed off early this morning due to a particular reason, ermm, I’d rather not mention. One word: Sloth! Sheesh, I’m working my ass off and all you had to do is play like a schizo with a whining mouth! Let’s superficially recall the essence of common sense and obligations here.
***
I got a sheepish 77 for my prelim grade in my Analytical Chemistry lecture class. I’m fine with it, but I know I could’ve done better. So maybe I’ll just try to concentrate on my schedules more. I’m even starting to feel pressure on extracurricular shenanigans thrown into my hands.
But I’m enjoying being a workaholic. I get to take my mind off things that are essentially not worth any of my time. Say, crappy people?
***
Okay, okay I’m getting off the computer now. No need to get all irksome!
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