Megan Dietrich

Brian Azzarello’s 100 Bullets is full of brilliant character arcs, but I am utterly fixated on Megan Dietrich.

Yes, she’s a classy, blonde powerhouse with an immaculate 36-24-36 figure. But what really hooks me is that she's a villain I am desperately rooting for to turn good. She has the generational wealth and the lethal intelligence to rewrite the whole plot. I love a powerful female character, but I need her to stop sleeping with geriatric cartel bosses and go rogue with the Minutemen. Pop culture has taught us that troubled women are supposed to be dangerously alluring.

Except, of course, for that one girl at Ateneo who is currently dominating the headlines. She’s troubled, sure, but she definitely missed the memo on being hot.

To the rich girl who is now internet-famous because she wrote that incredibly tone-deaf Facebook blog dragging her immersion experience: you clearly have issues, but you absolutely do not have my sympathy. Maybe if you dye your hair blonde, buy some class, and somehow naturally manifest a 36-24-36 frame, we can talk. I might even ask you out.

Actually, nah. Fuck that. I’ve seen you in History class. You were a bitch then, too. Enjoy the absolute downpour of hate coming your way—you completely earned it.

Ambition

When I was in Vigan, a man wore a t-shirt with "I only date supermodels" imprinted in the front.

Give

This Christmas has been great so far. 

Hopefully you guys have enjoyed it as well. For starters, I got to see my sister after months. I had lunch and merienda with her and a couple of her new friends, one of which is a rubix cube master and another is a successfully rehabbed druggie. 

I got to give her my gift which I bought at the last second. It took me 30 minutes to wait in line for that baby, so she'd better like the damn thing. If you're wondering, it was a soap set.  She always liked staying clean. 

Before that afternoon, I attended mass with my family and was impressed by the homily of the priest. He went on about how the real meaning of Christmas has been lost in these past years. Even the Japanese celebrate it and they don't have a damn clue about who the Jesus Christ is. 

Christmas is about knowing how unworthy you are of receiving gifts. Take your parents for example. How many times have you told your friends how much you hate your mom? How many times have you stolen from them? Taken the car? Run away? Lied to their faces? .. and yet you get nothing but life and support from their work.

So be a giver. Even if it's just a soap set.

Tying up loose ends

We’re packed and ready for La Union. Or "ready and set," if you want to be precise.

I am also roughly ten hours away from completing my first-ever Simbang Gabi. This isn’t some deep spiritual awakening; I only got interested when I found out there was a free wish involved. 

Right now, my body is worn down from a recent road trip that forced me to traverse Batangas, Laguna, and Cavite in under 48 hours. I didn’t even drive that much, but people seriously underestimate how tiring sitting can become.

4 months left of University life.

To my close friends, my buddies, my forever-and-ever pals: We have nothing to work on. There's actually no end and our jolly band will live on through messenger chats.

To my not-quite-best-friends-but-pretty-cool friends: I’ll say it in all honesty: we're cool. I am one of the biggest introverts out there. Social quota accomplished.

To those that annoyed me: It's over I guess. Here's a middle finger for whatever little thing you did. No more hate. Let's be cool. Actually no. Let's get away from each other.

SUCKS

TO BE ME

RIGHT NOW

SUCKS

TO BE ME

RIGHT NOW

SUCKS

TO BE ME

RIGHT NOW

SUCKS

TO BE ME

RIGHT NOW

SUCKS

TO BE ME

RIGHT NOW

To Mr. "Chinese Penis"

Let me rant. We all know you're a horndog. You're 20 or 21? We are all dudes here with our own baboy stories and banter. Shit happens behind closed doors. I enjoy the green mind that you have. But the apple shouldn't fall far from the tree.

When she comes in, out of nowhere you gain a heart. You gain a fucking heart! What a joke! You are now the most sensitive guy on the planet, and now you're full of love.

Forgive me, but I eavesdropped on you once. Well, its not eavesdropping if I had no choice, sitting right in front of you. You use the whole "I was bullied as a child" to gain her sympathy. 

I love Eco class.

Damn you, Mr. Chinese Penis. You fucking crack me up. That you do.

Dear Santa

Hi there. My name is Enzo Z. Araneta — from Alabang, Philippines. You might remember me from a letter I once wrote asking you for a pellet gun. I was going to show it off to all the poorer kids in my street, as well as shoot that mangy old man who walked around the village in his goddam boxers.
Remember? I forgot na when I wrote you that letter. It was probably 1995 or '96? I guess it doesn't matter, though, because I got a bike that year instead. Yeah, a bicycle. What was I going to do with a bike, Nick — can I call you Nick? Anyway, that's behind us now and I've decided to try my hand at this again — you know, asking you for a little something special this season.

So here goes...
I want my sister back.

Peace out to Mercury

Freddie Mercury is the single greatest entertainer of all time.

To Freddie, I belong to that last generation of the early days of rock 'n' roll: people who taped songs off the radio. I would steal gospel from your mouth by listening to the radio on a stereo deck with a blank tape. I remember my mix tape of 98 Rock's current playlist, featuring such hits as "my own worst Enemy" and "Spirit in the sky" and the first quarter-second of "Never Let you Go." It was difficult to tape you guys. I remember frustration at songs that, without any intro, plunged right into the vocals without warning (damn you, "Hey Jude"). 

Mostly, however, I remember your somber ballad "Love of my Life." But that's over... and now thanks to Utorrent and Limewire, we can all listen to you in crisp clear sound waves. Rock on. 

I just want to tell you that you've turned a lot of normal noiseless days into some of the most exciting baths and car rides I've ever had.  Now I have to sit back and relish at my dad's DVDs of your concerts and admire the man whose voice I shall never have. 

 You are the bomb. and don't worry... You have rocked me.

First Dates (Part 2)

Anybody know Sandwich? I love that band. I loved it with the original singer, Marc. The band was introduced to me when my grade school classmate played a mixtape in class. Marc was his cousin. It sounded pretty good, and from then on, like all pretend fanboys, I followed them so I could eventually bash the future bandwagonners. 

(Fast forward 5 years)

 So now, here I am, dating a bandwagonner. Of course, she had invited me to see Marc's new band "Kjwan", but our common love for Sandwich got us here.

I'm not gonna go into details of our interaction during the date. We were in a house which was made into a mini concert hall. There's spray-painted grafitti and a giant mural of Jose Rizal wearing shades, which may reveal what kinda place we were in. Tight spaces. Older men and women. The band was playing in what used to be the living room. The smell of smoke, alcohol and perfume, if you'd believe it. It was so loud that it was impossible to have a conversation. Even while looking at each other, lip reading without light cannot be done in this place. All alone, yet face to face.

When you feel awkward in a date or in some setting where you're trying to build connections, realize also that she wants the same thing. The shade of awkwardness, silence and wonder is there. But you're climbing up this wall with her in the most fun way you can. She said yes didn't she? It meant she was open to this one thing.

You're not getting married tomorrow.

You're trying to get to know a person, even amidst seeing Marc perform.

You may have blown it about how much you fanboy scared her. "Did you know Marc's first band was called Shirley Beans? Did you? Did you woman?!"

But you had a good time.

And slot this under the slew of first dates that didn't turn into second dates.

You'd probably go again, but make it after a few months, so she doesn't get ideas. And bring a friend. You've learned that technique, ironically, from another first date.

From the great Filipino poet, Marc Abaya, "Don't Regret your Stars"

Get them reps Bachi.

Traditions

I love traditions. It's the perfect excuse to do something and blame it on culture. Kiss a girl under a mistletoe, and it isn't your fault.  Ask a girl to the prom, it means nothing. You just needed to for this stupid prom. "I know it's stupid and all, but you wanna go to the prom. But yeah it's stupid".

I realized today that Ateneo has this tradition of the Blue Rose. To give to any girl before graduation. Any. 

So yeah. After a brief contemplation, I'm gonna have fun with this tradition and give my first crush a Blue Rose. This one I recently went out with doesn't seem very long term, as we both have different things to do after college. So be it. It'll be counterproductive and the ultimate mixed signal to give her a Blue Rose. 

My Blue Rose goes, not to her, but to my first crush.

Apart from being super creepy, let's see how this will unfold. 

It's tradition after all and a nice thought to end college. At worse, it's a funny embarrassing story I can look back upon. 

Shit. I forgot about Part 2 of my "First Dates" post. Will do that in a day.

Batista Bomb Bitches!

What senior year is like

There are couples in Ateneo who have been together for just a bit over 7 months... and now they're making plans for their future together.

Cheesy movie moment: Empire Records

Corey goes up to the roof to profess her love for AJ. It's a tense pause after this. Then, in turn, AJ surprises Corey with the news that he's going to attend art school near Harvard so they can be together.

Game.Set. Match.

Oohhh. Cue Gin Blossoms

To Manny

First and foremost, congratulations. I'd like to say that despite people's worries about your move into a higher weight division, you managed to maintain your speed and add some bulk to that left hand of yours. I was jumping up and down my seat in the duration of the fight. I even hugged an American stranger when I heard the referee declare the TKO. It wasn't a classic fight, as Oscar dela Hoya didn't do shit and decided to give up altogether, but nonetheless, you were excellent and you made me proud of what one poor Filipino can accomplish in this day and age. 

 Second, I'd like to apologize for my criticisms and harsh opinions of what kind of person you really are. In the past few years, I've been saying how much of an obnoxious member of community "jologs" you are. Forgive me Manny. We all make mistakes. I had the liberty to watch your fight in front of a big screen in Fort Bonifacio. My dad and I were invited to a breakfast gathering of all the condo owners in the area. I talked to some about you, Manny. I asked them what they thought. And all of them had nothing but absolute praise for your work ethic. They talk about how you shut out everything else but family when you train. They remember talking to your trainer, Roach, and how he's never seen anybody go the distance like you do. You are a warrior in people's minds, and now I'd have to say that I'm going to finally join the bandwagon. It's hard to earn my love, and you should've earned it years ago. 

But before I say anything else, I'd like to explain myself. 

This is why it took so long for me to love you. When I see you Manny, I remember billboards. I remember the Magic sing. I remember the way you made a fool of yourself in an action movie. The reason why I hated you so much was because I compared you to our celebrities. People who get away with millions while doing absolute jack-shit on TV. 

I will be blunt about this and say that I hate the Richard Gutierez and Sam Milby type. They are the reasons why I never bother to watch anything local. I remembered that he was Captain Barbel a couple of years ago, then suddenly it died out. You remember that Manny? Then he became another superhero but with snake powers this time around. Then he took on the role of a Cyborg, and now, I find out he's going to play Zorro. 

And I compared you to him Manny. I'm sorry for being this stupid, but I put you and him in the same league. I put you in a pool of Filipino celebrities that exhibit no work ethic and no class in trying to improve Filipino entertainment. But you aren't one of them Manny. You are a boxer. You are an icon abused by all the entertainmnt warlords and companies looking to hitch their products to your rise in the boxing world. 

You are a boxer. You are good at it. And I love you for it.

 

Citrus Chill

We had a booth in the middle of the Secfield this entire week called "Citrus Chill". Let me rephrase, we had THAT booth. A living manual of how NOT to run a Banana shake business. Funny. There's also nothing citrus about a goddam banana shake.

Unfortunately, we didn't scotch tape the booth's banner that well, so the top part of the tarp was slooping down enough to cover the word "Citrus". We ended up looking for an imaginary competitor when my friends were saying on how they liked "Chill" so much. We also had a malfunctioning blender (again), so we made do with a rusted hammer. When the order came in, I would take a block of ice behind the trees and fucking hammer that shit like I was Michelangelo. The crumbly ice bits would be small enough for our haphazard blender to do a decent job. Crumbly ice bits with some hammer rust, banana, sugar and milk all blended into Citrus Chill's non-citrus Banana shake.

We did good enough for a day's work. Waiting for customers. For 5 hours a day, you start to notice things, you make friends with your fellow vendors and you eventually buy your own shit to pass the time. I had two banana shakes. Rust crust and all. 

What I noticed about all the products out here, was the fact that these vendors tried so hard to be revolutionary, but lacked the marketing to make people want to try it out. The world is full of these "this is gonna be the biggest thing out there!!" wannabes. Tofu cookies, some wanton noodles that had some healthy ingredients, Camote chips... all that. I'm not a critic, and yet I'll still admit they're good. But not everyone saw the need to buy it. Normal shoppers would say... "Oh that's nice, the world could use some more of those" "Wow... that's a great use for those things" "Meron palang ganun?... ang galing naman!!" ...and then just walk away. They play you and they walk away. So this is what bazaar peeps feel like.

It's apparent that none of us in this array of stalls will be the next Steve Jobs, tofu cookies be damned. What a sad bunch we look. At least I have comics to pass the time. That'll do for now. 

First Dates

College is a wonderful time to mingle. I've always stuck to the rule never to date your circles. Call it fear of the looming breakup. Call it also not getting anything new. Call it the fear of them eventually finding your blog.

If you attend the same classes, see the same people and watch the same things, there's very few overlap. There are those who want companions and affection in their day-to-day activities and that's okay. No harm there. We all want positivity in everything we do. How wonderful to have someone beside you along the way.

But coming from the other side of the city, some of us just want the experience. I want your world, and to see if I can fit in it. (Oh that was cheesy)

Okay, so it's 2008 and I haven't grown into my body yet. I have the anatomical makeup of a twig and the facial profile of a Chinese fuckboy. I'm hoping that summer gym would do something about that, but I am balancing between pessimistic and abandoning this whole idea completely.

But here goes. After drinking with my roommate's friends, and hanging out in school with this roommate's friend's friends in the smocket, and then drinking with this roommate's friend's friend's  girl friend (or friend who is a girl, cause we don't wanna start these headlines), I was able to ask someone out. I played it cool. I made it casual. We saw each other again, and I asked her for a drink. This is the follow up.

(Part 2 to continue. I'm sleepy after having played Battle Realms before writing this.)

Baby. How could you?

All of us out there have school boy not-even-a-shit-chance-of-happening crushes. The number one for my generation is probably Britney Spears before she went mama. When that video of "Don't let me be the last to know" came out, Jon Tuason claimed that he didn't leave his TV room for 8 hours. Then when "Slave 4 U" came out, Bubs kept his media player repeating on that bit where Britney whispers "I just wanna have sex with you". Without a doubt... it was all about Britney frikkin Spears.

But for me, as you all probably know, it's always been Natalie Portman.
The Israeli hottie just a few years older than me had all the right qualities for anybody shopping for their not-even-a-shit-chance-of-happening crushes. But now, NATALIE PORTMAN HAS A NUDE SCENE. 

Natalie Portman represents a true beauty today that remains uncorrupted by breast implants, French sex tapes and hiphop videos. She was the last link towards the likes of Audrey Hepburn, Gretta Garbo and the untouchable Grace Kelly. 

And, and, and! to add to the glass shattering nude scene, Natalie claims that no man should live without sex. She said that she didn't understand celibacy. 

But Natalie... baby. How could you? Anne Hathaway did the whole nude scene in Havoc, while other good girls aren't that good-looking. 

Natalie? Baby? How could you? A nude scene?

Wonderful

That guy from NYK line just contacted me a couple of days ago and asking whether I'd be free during his visit from the 20th to the 23rd of December. Of course I played it cool, like any local boy would when he'd be up against some bigshot. I did the whole "lemme check my sked" bit. (High fives baby on how I awesomely pulled this shit off) 

But this was big. This is the company that wants me. This was intensely big. They want me in Japan. In one of those bluish-black suits riding a bike through the streets of Kobe or Osaka. The "working man" stereotype. Working in Japan baby. An exciting prospect.

This weekend, I'm joining my LS groupmates in our first ever bazaar. This will happen from Saturday to Sunday at Corinthians Village. We'll be that tent of guys trying to make calamansi, banana and mango slush drinks. I'd invite everyone to go if I wasn't so ashamed of being a servant. 

In other courses, Tagalog Philosophy has been dragging. My prof hasn't shown his face in the past three meetings.

In mildy-taglish Theology, I am still surrounded by the Doofus twins of my graduating batch. Jan fucking Diongko and that Dennis guy from basketball. Both are absolute douchebags. My sanity is taking a hit hearing them hunt for buttcracks to spot.

But, my semester is doing pretty well. Dare I say it again? MY SEM IS DOING PRETTY WELL. Two years ago when I was a dick, envisioning myself being one of those angas artsy guys, I'd probably be a tad bit disappointed that I'm now more of realist. I'm not cool with artsy girls. I like sports. I like games. And it took some experience to be happy with myself. The key was keeping yourself busy with things you love to stop this unabashed wave of day dreaming.

I think I'm gonna have a pretty awesome
"the-first-five-years-after-graduation" experience.

It already looks good from where I'm sitting

When girls ask you to share your feelings, I figured that they really just want to hear about emotions and love.

They don't give a damn if you're feeling tired and hungry.

Cheaters

I loved her. I still love her. I don't know. Fuck no. That's it. It's a no. I guess?

If we talk about love as being happy with the person, that's gone. Or maybe taking a break right now. Life has a way of changing you. I'll tell you one thing, you can't commit if you're settling. And at some point in the beginning of all relationships, we're all settled.

I came in in love with what I saw. The first few weeks were great. The so called honeymoon period is called that because people usually enjoy the fun of being with someone. There may be a few square pegs for your round holes, but you're settling. You have this idea that those don't matter and all that matters is the fun, so you'll settle first. The pegs will eventually fit. You've seen how couples "twist to fit the mold" of the other. That's for you Maroon 5. :)

But life isn't fun all the time. It's also the the academics, the hobbies, pending career, your family, her family, the everyday things, the living, the passion, the goals, the friends, the love and so many things.

You were fun. You are lovely. But your square pegs in the honeymoon period are square pegs in every other thing. We're impossible. It's sad.

Contrary to the title, I never cheated. But my thoughts are suddenly on others. How funny that a complete stranger is drawing my attention away from you. Again, no action was done, and I didn't cheat. But a complete stranger with the unknown and the possibilities of a better fit is suddenly seeming more viable than the knowns of this. 

I never cheated. But I'm learning. Relationships are there to test you and train you. So that when you finally find THE ONE, you'll never fall for the unknown stranger with curly hair again. 

I hope you're happy future self. Whether or not THE ONE is with you reading this. 

Don't worry baby

Music has a way of matching talents to the song. One example is the song "Don't worry Baby" by the Beach Boys. The wimpy voice blends well to the hopeless nature and meaning of the lyrics. He had to be a wimp. He just had to.

It has a great verse, where the singer complains about something that is classically 50's. He's been bragging about his car and now he has to race some local hoodlums to prove he's not a complete pussy. Again, having wimpy whiny voice, it's perfect. The match is impeccable.

Then there's the chorus. He recounts how his girlfriend tells him "don't worry baby, everything will turn out all right." 

It's a relief to realize that I have (mostly) outgrown being that whiny adolescent needing constant handholding. But so many relationships come from guys needing to be mothered, and by some instinctual command, their lady friends have the need to mother. 

I'm just pissed that I've done this technique and I wasn't believable. I'm too dependent that even the ladies don't buy it.

When someone says they like performing, and then add the caveat "in the shower", I'm sorry. But that's not funny anymore. 

Too classic friend. Too worn out.

I hate the fact that gay guys are allowed to grope women. You're there right in front of them and beholding the dream that had always been yours, except it's being done by someone who kinda looks like a feminine version of you. 

 Life isn't fair. Not at all.

Randy Orton

In the world of professional wrestling... no guy has a more "I wanna do it to someone" move than my man Randy Orton. While his opponent is lying face down on the mat, he just kicks the guy's head like a soccerball. I mean, since wrestling is fake, he slows down the kick at the last second in order not to seriously hurting his opponent, but man! If I could do that shit to someone... aww baby. 

Like that pulubi sleeping at the sidewalk while I was jogging through service road.... 

BAMM!!! Punt Kick! 

Or that douchebag sleeping on the computer table while everyone kinda wants to use the pc... 

Climb up the table... and BAM!!! Punt Kick!!

I still hate PLURK

Here's a continuation of a blog that was posted 3 days ago regarding PLURK. Social Networks on the Internet have been embraced by Filipinos, especially my generation of Filipinos, since their inception. Because these sites use profile pages, Pinoys can more efficiently judge friends and future friends on their taste in film, books, music, and inspirational quotes. 

However, it is important to remember that the “where” is often as important as the “who” when it comes to social networking. Low self-esteemers or LSE's are oftentimes obsessed with being in the right neighborhood and the Internet is no exception.

In the early days, LSE's joined a social networking service called Friendster where they could connect with old friends and make new ones. Eventually, LSE's started to notice more and more of their friends on Multiply, so they closed their Friendster accounts (or kept it as a blog) and migrated to the new service.

And now we have PLURK, waiting to capitalize on the poor wretched state of Multiply (oh I forgot the new Facebook). Can't we just be happy where we are? We keep on migrating.

Ultimate Frisbee

When you first see the sport being played, you will be struck at how amazingly boring it is. Imagine a field of snotty rich people running around throwing a frisbee trying to catch it in an “endzone.” Sometimes one person guards another and that’s the whole game. 

A weak American Football for pussies. 

A gay game. 

There are no tricks. 

There are no "Ohhh baby.. ya beauty!!!" moments. 

There is nothing more to explain. It's just a dam boring sport for rich people to get their hands into and make all the poor kids want to play it.

Introductions

Ahh yes. The beginning of the year means its another dose of meeting new people. This one should be in the hall of fame. 

Let us begin with CS179. Girl comes in. An extreme hottie. She'd probably be the best stranger hottie in the list of all-time stranger hotties. 

She sits beside me. And there I was throwing voiceless taunts at the guys who she didn't sit beside. Fuck you all. 

She asks me if she's in the right class. 

I blanket for a second, but compose myself and say "Wha.. anong... what class?" 

She's about to say something but is then called by the prof. She goes to the prof. They talk. She leaves. 

And this is why I completely suck in dealing with stranger hotties in the the list of all-time stranger hotties. 

I hate Koreans. It's God's cruel trick that I look like one.

Morning View

Here's my problem with PLURK. As cool as a name it has for an online posting network, it is far too vain and far too a promoter of boring literature to be considered viable. 

We begin with Livejournal and Blogspot, the mother earth and father time of blogging. During High school, a couple of friends of mine started using Livejournal. For a guy who only started YM-ing during third year, you can all consider me a late-bloomer in using anything online. Then people started inviting me to use livejournal and eventually I checked it out. 

To my array, every blog (no matter whether it was the cool guy from the varsity team or the dork who sat beside me) was pretty much EMO. So in my initiation stage to the blogging world, there was already a seed planted in this crusade against emo fucks. It was hypocritically broken when I eventually became one. I have replaced ranting human connection with ranting blogs.

I only started blogging in college, when my English prof. asked us to construct a blog. This is where it all started, I guess. Then there were the wordpresses, the livejournals (which I eventually joined) and Multiply. As I said, Multiply is destroying the "blog" community because now it seems much easier to take pictures of yourself than to blog. Makes sense, and I'm not angry at these people, for their motives are still towards their social networks. This is where it'll go someday. Pictures will tell the story more than words. It will leave out a lot.

But PLURK... I mean my god.... not even literature.

The smell of printed homework.
But why do I feel so glum?
It's because I know that this one
is the first of many to come.

GREAT!

Philosophy in Tagalog

what the hell can be better than that?

speech to my parents

(Enter the lanai while parents are watching their daily dose of Crime and Investigation episodes. Wave to those gathered. Stand in front of the coffee table. Grab the remote and turn off the TV)

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you, Mom and Dad, for coming to your lanai. I know that you, Dad, could have chosen to stay upstairs in your room and play with your favorite crossword puzzles. And you, Mom, might have had other obligations with whatever it is that you do as a retired housewife with millions to spend on gardening. So, thank you both for coming here today.

As you know, we have reached a crucial moment in our—and by "our" I mean "my"—existence. My second semester is coming up. It's this November 10. And it's time that we take a look at where we—I—stand. In fact, Dad, you have said to me, "Son, take a look at where you stand. And try to build a plan." I remember that. I remember it very well father dear.You said it to me while we were jogging this summer.

And from those words, I have sensed what you might be thinking: "Should we keep this person as our son ... or should we legally disown him?"

I want you to know, Mom and Dad: I ... Hear ... You.

(Applause.)

I HEAR YOU

For that reason, I believe it's time we talked about change. This is all about change and I know that you all want change for the better. We all want me to change into an independent, responsible adult who lives outside this house. You want it, Dad. You want it, Mom. And I am here to tell you that I want change, too.

(Applause.)

You know guys, when my laptop stopped working a couple of weeks ago, I didn't take the easy way out, which would have been to ask you for a new laptop, since my credit is so screwed and I have virtually no money.

Instead, I called my laptop's tech support, and I spent nearly an hour—an hour!—on the phone with some guy in the Makati office of HP. Outsourcing is threatening our great country! And the laptop still wasn't fixed!

But ... I ... Tried....

I REALLY DID TRY!!!

And only after the laptop wasn't fixed did I ask for money to buy a new laptop. It was your generous Araneta spirit that helped me to overcome outsourcing to foreign countries, and allowed me to continue killing time with my laptop in the Rizal library.

I'd like to say thank you.

And thank myself in the process for without me, I would never have grown up.

(Applause.)

When I lost my cell phone for the fifth time in three years, and this time I had a legitimate excuse for losing it, because it really might have been stolen from my pocket at that futsal game, I didn't come to you and say, "Hey, give me a new cell phone, because you're the ones who are still paying for my plan."

Instead, I drove myself all the way to the cell-phone place and asked them what they had in stock, and when I found out that I could not get even the smallest rebate on a phone, simply because I have lost my phone so many times—corporate greed is threatening our great country!—only then did I come to you and say, "Hey, give me a new cell phone." Actually, what happened was, I just bought a new cell phone on the credit card you gave me a while back, Ma. And then I told you about it. That was not more than three years ago. Don't worry. I didn't get a plan. As of this moment, as a truly adult son prepared to take the consequences, I went on ahead and punished myself with a prepaid sim.

Thank you and thank me. For it takes a team.

The point is, there are countless moments such as these that illustrate that change is in the works, and that I am, and always have been, the best candidate to be your son.

(Applause)

Yes, I have paralyzing debt, which you'll have to pay off one day, or else I'll just declare bankruptcy and run away. In fact, I could have declared bankruptcy already! I could've left home years ago and joined the NPA.

But. I.Didn't!

And I've still got my car! The car you gave me! The car I could have lost a long time ago.

But. I. Didn't!

I could have kept demanding Christmas presents!

But I didn't!

I could have thrown a temper tantrum when you removed me from the family list at the Alabang Country club!

But I didn't!

I could have demanded you let me go to Boracay during my high school graduation summer vacation!

But I didn't!

(Applause here?)

The point is that, through all of this, through the change that you see is clearly sweeping through this household, you were there.

Say it with me, Ma: You. Were. There.

Come on, Dad: You! Were! There!

You were there when I was born!
You were there when I had to be picked up because I had discovered alcohol in Biboy Vera's house!
You were there when that shit school U.P. didn't accept me and I cried like a baby for days!
You were there when I needed money to go to Sagada this sembreak!

This time, my LS groupmates and I decided that each member would have to put in 15,000 pesos worth of capital into our investment.

And Mom and Dad: You! Will! Be! There! ... With! A! Checkbook!

(Bring it down a notch.)

So, in summary, I just want to say thank you. It's genuine gratitude that echoes across our green lawn, which I will one day mow, and up to the attic space, where I am creating a new room for myself and hope to live there after college ... Genuine gratitude that comes from the bottom of the deepest lake I somehow have not yet been found in ...

I know, come this November 10, when you take time to consider whether or not to give up on me, whether or not to let your only son finally walk the lonesome road of adulthood, far from the cushion of your warm financial bosom, you will realize that you were there ... you are there ... and you will be there forevermore.

Thank you. Thank me. God bless. Bachi out.

"Bakit kelangan magonline sa ym kung ang status mo ay dont fucking disturb me at iba pang kagaya nito diba? At kung dahilan nila ay mayroon silang kailangan ichat ay meron namang invisible mode na ginawa para sa mga taong katulad nila."

by Andre N.

I agree, and as much as I'd like to point these people out, I'd save everyone a great deal of awkwardness and flirt openings by avoiding to do so.
Flirt openings are forever present in these little arguments we have with people...
...that's from Ugly Betty Season 2, so I guess it's pretty much believable.

Pioneers

I think that this is my fifth blog in about 10 minutes. But you have to understand that my writing style forces me to print all these short entries, because I notice that people would rather read seven or eight short blogs than read one long one.

This is my last weekday-school-vacation-day ever(I don't know if you got the gist of the description). But now, everything has become so real.
So real, in fact I'm going to hurl.
I am going to graduate from school. And I'm not only talking about college, but I'm talking about the whole idea of this childhood stage. From 7-21 years of age, there's been no doubt in my mind that I'd be going to school. So any major choice-making capacity has been dormant for those fifteen years of adolescent childhood. And let's focus on that - childhood.
Because as much as some of us want to remain childish and immature, there's no way in hell that we'd survive out there by ourselves. Without friends. Without family. Without connections or ties, the only thing that will keep us afloat is our demeanor. And right now, in my case, my demeanor is not generating enough respect to get me through as quick as I'd like to.
You know about my plans for Japan next year. You all probably know my bigger plans for Cebu in two-three years. These are all little steps that I keep at the back of my head. Keeping this in mind, for the first time, I will know no one. Japan is a thousand miles away from everything I've familiarized myself over the past few years. I will have no parents to back me up and no friends who live right around the block. For the first time, I will feel bad being alone.. for I truly know that as I walk down the streets of Kobe or Osaka, I will have no where to go. I will have ACTUAL EMO MOMENTS! I will have no one to call. No one will come running to my side when I'm experiencing one of those rare stints of depression.
So in the next few months, there has to come a radical change of transformation. There has to be that killer instinct that can make me challenge the "no man is an island" concept. I'm bringing a solo Filipino culture into the Japan mix. Whether I like it or not, I will be standing alone. For there is no doubt in my mind that in a foreign country, I will be an island.
An outsider.
A loner.
This is called pioneering. This is leaving home, in all aspects of the word, because it is plain and simply good for you. This is my last call to grow the fuck up. I have about ten months to do so.

Why do shy people always have the weirdest hobbies? Take for example my friend Rens who spends his time buying cakes for people who don't care about him and break his heart. 

I was wondering where my ability to attract gay people had gone to.
In recent months, I haven't received a single compliment from the unnatural third sex.
No "Am I cute for a guy?" questions.
No "ang pogi mo" unbelievable nonsense.
None of the crap for a couple of months.

To say the least, it was kinda frustrating for a while.
And then I found out where they had all been hiding...

The Gym.
Waiting for men to drop their pants and share a steam room.

Kinagat ako sa pwet

I am plagued by the burning desire of cool. I know deep down I am cool. And yet, of the many activities and interests I have and am a participant, very few are actually constituted by the masses as hip. But coolness is relative, no? Isn't coolness something two people, with different likes and dislikes, can share, even if these two ventures are seemingly opposites? Perhaps they are, perhaps they are not. I, however, know that I am cool...mostly. Or am I? I'm not so confident anymore.

Today, I discovered that a little shop in Las Pinas sells vinyl in store. What a great day for Momma and Poppa's stores! I have a feeling this new addition to their inventory isn't to entice purists like myself to shop there (I was already in the store after all). Rather, I suspect the move is to capitalize on the growing indie craze that is hitting popular music. The only music for sale that would be deemed indie was The Shins album "Oh Inverted world". Other than that, this Momma and Poppa's just had a lot of Metallica, Smashing Pumpkins, Radiohead, rap reissues. I did pick up (because of the P700 price tag) the reissue of the first Bad Brains record "Bad Brains". Buying vinyl in the age of digital music has a hint of nostalgic-cool to it.

Now... I just need a dam record player.
That's more cash to spend

You are Far

When I could have been your star. You listen to people... (now I've forgotten the lyrics)

Forgive me from time to time if I burst into song. My iTunes is on SHUFFLE MODE and out of nowhere, a long lost song plays out on the speakers. I do sing it like an uncontrollable reflex. You know those moments in your dreams where you're in a fight, then you wake up with your arms suddenly being flung out into the air?

No?

Well, if you do have those reflexes, these songs are kinda like those.
Not only in the uncontrollable aspect of it, but in the it-makes-me-look-like-a-crazy-person aspect of it.

So back to music and the bloggy things...

I want to like Jazz. When I am with my second cousins who are lightyears ahead in age and experience, they talk about Jazz. At times like these, I want to have something to say other than, “Oh yeah, Jazz. That’s some good stuff. Very jazzy and freeform with the whole sound. Yeah, how about that Jazz? You know the Utah Jazz is a basketball team... ”

But it all sounds the same to me. The other night when my Dad put on a Miles Davis CD (that I bought years ago under the assumption that you had to own at least one Miles Davis CD in case anyone looked at your music collection) I was reminded that I don’t care that much about Jazz. I just care that you think I care about Jazz because it seems like something cool people should care about and I want to be cool.

Because that's what life is about righty right?

So I own a Miles Davis CD and I know the name John Coltrane and I’ve even started using a Jazz analogy at soccer. Last week in a game I was talking to Marc and I described a move by saying, “That shit felt like jazz, it developed as we went along, very freeform. I’m used to more traditional strides with two verses and a chorus.” People kind of chuckled and hopefully thought, “Wow, that guy is such a huge fan of Jazz that he incorporates his love of it into project analogies.”

See how cool I am.
Don't hate the player. Hate the game.

If I’m being honest though...
If I’m only pretending to love Jazz, then...

...I’m only pretending to love
CS Lewis,
Musicals that aren't A.L.W.,
Vegetables,
Really Long PC games,
Certain types of Rap Music,
Smart girls (I mean c'mon man...),
Being Fat (because NOBODY BELIEVES IN THAT INSIDE BEAUTY),
The RollingStones,
Shaquille O'neal,
Green Jokes from non-friends


All these thing (now you know) fucking suck like hell man.
But aside from that... I'm pretty much good to hating and loving things out in the open
Remember when everyone in Grade six loved Tekken? I pretended to go with the crowd.

Yet I fucking hated the shit. People claimed themselves as gods when all they had were really fast fingers.

Let it out.

Just for the hell of it, let's say that I did get a pretty decent random number.. like one of those that everyone I know gets at some point in their academic career. Heard of those?
Just for the hell of it, let's say I did register early with student-less and no-need-for-overload class. For once in my life and just for the hell of it, let's say I got the classes I wanted...

Ahh yesss...


dream over..

FUCK THIS STUPID MOTHERFUCKING SYSTEM!!!!!!!
I CAN'T FUCKING BELIEVE IT THAT WE WOULD LEAVE THIS THING TO CHANCE!!!
HOW FUCKING ACADEMIC!!
ROLL THE DICE THEN...

Just for the hell of it though.
Let's go Celts...

"All together now" DVD release is Today

Wooh, the documentary for the Beatles' Cirque du Soleil show, Love, is out today! 

I still get goosebumps when I hear the soundtrack. Now you can get Love-struck too with this documentary. If anyone buys it, pahiram?

21 years

I knew what this sembreak was going to become before it even started. The last one of my life, right? I already thought about it.
While i was reviewing for Histo. When i was cramming for LS126. When I was saying that I didn't have enough time to handle all the stress.
I was already thinking about it.

I was thinking about sembreak and how I'm going to revisit a lot of old things. I wish my albums were vinyl, so as to make the whole experience genuine. I was blowing dust off from a lot of old cds that I used to listen to. Nimrod. Permission to Land. Californication. Each album holding a different level of audio-orgasm.
Memories.
A stage of life.
As if kahapon lang.
If it was one of those not-so-pop-but-definitely-pop-pretending-to-be-rock albums, I was in that young adolescent age of skateboards and watching britney spears videos alone in our TV room.
A stage of life.
Another CD.
As if kahapon lang.
If it was one of those 60's-black-guy-jazz CDs, that was the point in my life where I was trying to find my own music. I remember wanting to be the "jazz guy" until i found out that I'm pretty much not black.
A stage of life.
If it was "the Beatles", that'd be that point in my life where I felt utterly comfortable with my music. I'm not one of those people who "can't possibly pick my favorite songs because there's just too many". It's pretty simple. All these things and all these songs that gave me memories in the school bus, my first kiss, road trips and I-hate-my-parents-because-they-won't-let-me-go-to-timezone moments, I now remember how fucking big my life is.

And then I found my collection of VHS video tapes that I used to make when I was younger. I'd stay up at 2am and watch Football. I was 8 years old. There comes a point in time when you fall in love with an idea, a band or a team. For a band, you buy their album and listen to each and every single song that's in it. I had Football. I had Manchester United.

A stage of life.
Kahapon lang ata eh.

I don't give a shit now if everyone loves soccer. I don't care if North boys are using soccer to pick up girls now, because at the end of the day, a fan is a fan.
When I was 8, I remember David Beckham's shot from the center field. I told my neighbors about it, but they shifted the conversation to the upcoming Power Rangers movie.
When I was 9, I watched Eric Cantona retire two months after I fell in love with his game.
When I was 12, I watched manchester United win the Champions League final. I watched it with my dad and my lolo. I slept on the floor that day. It was the last time my lolo would show any emotion as he would soon be diagnosed with Alzheimer's. I remember it clearly. He was for Bayern Munich.
When I was 14, I remember moving to the new house and watching Ruud Van Nistelrooy score over 30 goals in his first season at Manchester. Nobody in school could say his name, so i felt pretty good (because there's noting better than being known as a person who idolizes some guy with a european name you can't pronounce... e.g. Tzaichovski, Van brudgesen, and Gary Kasparov) I immediately called my mom in Bangkok so she'd buy me one of his fake jersey's.
When I was 20, ManU won the Champion's league again. I was with Jayce and Driggs in my TV room. They pretended to be classmates working on a project so as to be allowed to sleep over.

I'm 21 and I'm old.
Stages of Life.
Memories.
Yesterday is Yesterday.
Any object lying around the house (Kooshball, PE shirts, albums, FHM magazines) and you could spend an entire day reliving everything (especially the magazines).
So many memories that we tend to forget because we apparently don't have a girlfriend, are failing tests and are contemplating about the future.

It wasn't just TV shows that we should remember about being kids. We think we can write a story about our lives because we want the world to know and love us so badly.

Fairness

There's something very wrong with bullies. 

In the future, these bullies will grow up with an immense level of self confidence. It's the type of self-confidence that leaders possess. They will make millions, have extremely delicious girlfriends and die inside one of those expensive coffins that adjusts its own temperature to keep the body in tip top shape.

These bullies will be successful. Their kids will be models. And nobody will care what they did in grade school. 

As for the bullied. 

They get pushed around to the point of shitting their pants. Their self-confidence will be shot. They're scared to try new things. The principal then says that the kid needs therapy. He's isolated. He goes to prom with his cousin. His mom goes to his funeral. His dad wanted to go but never found enough reason to. 

Just an extreme thought. There's a movie for you.

The first time I watched Iron Man, I was blown away right from the start. The Hulk, well the new one anyways, added up to the extensive build up to the need of Marvel to booster up the caliber of its movies.

Sembreak's been bummed up all over. When school had me working in different places to cram passes in one night, the past few days had me sleeping in different places because my bedroom eventually got boring to sleep in. This is the first time I'll be using the net (well, second actually in sembreak). I tripped over this blog in yahoo... which will have me buying some new dvds in a couple of minutes.


This is from IRON MAN... now look to the table on the left of the picture

That's the very shield that Captain America used... plugged in as some piece of cameo crap. Stupid shits like us didn't bother to see it as we were busy looking at the little machines making Tony Stark's suit.


Now from THE HULK

I remember reading that Captain America was frozen in suspended animation. The figure is hard to make out clearly, but you can definitely tell by his shield.

I hate suck-up little girls

I celebrated my freedom from the 1st sem yesterday with a trip to MOA. Jayce pointed out a bratty little glasses girl who looked like the typical sucker you wouldn't want as a child. I'm referring specifically to the kind of little girl who drags her mum around FullyBooked shouting, "Oh mummy, I just can't understand why all children my age don't read more. Think of what they're missing!"

The bitch

Now I'm not saying we shouldn't teach little girls to read. But we should definitely think about taking their books away if they're going to start getting all gay about it. Books aren't meant to be fun. Children should be all giddy about more important shit like Toys, Ren & stimpy, as well as Cooties.

Anyway, these suck-up little girls need to learn to enjoy books like an adult.

Which means:
A) only reading books because they think they're supposed to
and
B) exclusively reading books that are much too brainy for them just because they've got a nice front cover, then having to spend the duration constantly referring to the little synopsis on the back just to double check what's going on.

You know, like a grown-up.

Theo orals would
be what we
call a "fly-by".

While common
sense will have
to do for Polsi.

I don't want Histo.
No Tweety.
Please no more!

and Wikipedia
is all I need
for Philo 104


Batista Bomb Bitches!

No I didn't stop wearing glasses because I wanted to look better.
......
I simply lost it doofus.

Another Hate List

Unfortunately, once again, grips shan't be gotten. I am going to bash org people in this blog. 

1.) These are the people who still find green jokes funny. 

2.) These are the people who always say "I LOVE THIS SONG!!". And then they have to say it again or worse, sing it, cause nobody heard them the first time. (I'm looking at you Moldy peaches) 

3.) These are the people who circulate their secret crushes among their friends, and then their friends' friends until it reaches me. Congrats. I know and she still doesn't. 

4.) Not related to org people, but I'm appalled at parents who give their kids marijuana. Grow up. They're kids. 

5.) I hate pyramid scamming and that's what orgs are. I actually am in 9 orgs, not because I wanted to, but because a pretty girl had a sign up sheet.

6.) I hate resume' padding. That's what orgs are as well.

Glad that's off me chest.

Franz Pumaren reminds me of the kids summer league coach who tries to trip the opposing players. The one who tells the kids not to tell their parents that he uses cuss words.

Oh La Salle. Fuck your goddam "Luto" complaints.

Aside from girls that drive manual cars, Girls who wear sports jerseys with their hair tied in a bun are real turn-ons.

Didn't you notice that the hottest girl from the band "All Saints" doesn't sing at all? I smell a marketing ploy.

A Hate List

No grips will be gotten tonight. Lemme roll off some hate list items:

1. I hate it when parents ask emergency money from you. Emergency money consists of the cash you lend out to pay for things like toll or the restaurant bill when your parents forget their wallets. But there's this ugly and guilty feeling of asking them to pay you back. God. I hate that.

 2. Oh, Emo blogs. I hate emo blogs. Mine is one though. So I will try to keep the content short.

3. I hate the awkward impasse with my "Hi-hello" friends. These are the people that you used to be such good friends with, until the passage of time eroded what commonalities you once had. You have nothing to say to this person but a "Hi" or a "Hello". Talk about awkward. Everytime I come across a "Hi-Hello" friend, tons of shit run through my head on what to say. I usually say "Bagong hair ah". 

 4. I hate it when my basketball teammates don't give me the ball when they know that I'm the only consistently good player on the team. 

 5. I hate the groupwork user. This is the guy who's only in the group because he's apparently close to the smartest guy in the group. He ends up doing nothing at all. Not even working the night before the submission of your Final Pass. He doesn't even give the consolation prize of panicking at the last minute, like any caring groupmate would do.

Okay. Glad that's off me chest.

Am I the only person who likes San Andreas more than GTAIV???

Solutions

You'll notice how, when walking down the school corridor, you'll sometimes find yourself facing someone going in the opposite direction, and each of you is blocking the other, and when you move to the left, the other person moves to the right, and vice versa, and after you've done this, say, twice, it's almost impossible not to do it, and now you're having far more interaction with this other person than you really want to have, and you're both looking at each other all apologetic and embarrassed. 

 It is an awkward impasse. 

My solution for this is to embrace the situation: If you two are going to keep blocking each other, make a game out of it and actually try and block the other person. Feint, dart, try and anticipate his every move just by watching his eyes, and for every time you block him, you get a point. And if he does manage to slip by, well, then, your awkward impasse is solved, now, isn't it? 

 It's win-win. 

Stalkers

This is the 19th time I'm refreshing her blog today. Nothing's changed in the past days, weeks or months.

When we got nothing to do, we often target things that seem to be productive, when in fact it isn't. 

The story begins and ends with Australia. Before we met, that's where she had just come from, and now that's where she's going on a music scholarship. I am the sandwich filler in the middle, and lemme tell you, it's not an enviable position to be in.

With the final weeks fast approaching before that fateful flight down under, I must admit that I've been getting closer to others. It seems like the end and I don't know, but what's the point of keeping all the same rules. Not seeing other people. Not texting others.

She had been getting a bit distant, less than perfect, angry and we just don't have it anymore. So I'm glad we were only friends. Friends with rules, but friends nonetheless.

That blog I've been refreshing wasn't hers. It was someone else's.

This is a scheduled post. Away from a more dangerous time.

"In any fight, it's the guy who's willing to die, who's gonna win..."

- Al Pacino

What everyone needs in their lives... Background music. 

Now that's a thought for God. Imagine hearing "Chariots of fire" while you're running. Or "Ode to joy" after taking a shit.

Every Rose has its thorn

We're screwed.

My group and I? We are definitely so fucking screwed. Last night was supposed to be the night we completed the LS paper and perfect the flawless motion of presenting our report. It's when the groupmates and I would rally in unison, shouting "THIS IS WHERE IT ENDS!" 

So.....

...we didn't do that.

Although we did have pizza (if that's what you call pizza hut's product). We needed to watch something while eating pizza, so we put on Rush Hour 2. The new Resident Evil was out so we needed to check it out as well. There was DOTA, StarCraft, Road Runner episodes, Robot Chicken Episodes, Fuck-kill-marry questions and everything not even remotely close to academics. Anton even busted out some sweet shadow puppet tricks.

And how did we do?

2nd highest. B+ bitches. :)

Winging it is a skill.

I don't recall if I blogged about this before, but in any case... wouldn't it be great if Boy Band lyrics would contain the lessons we have for history? Because I find it a gazillion times easier to memorize pop songs than I do with History notes.


The DepEd should think about that... especially with LFO reuniting soon.

The ugly girl under the stairs

So why would I be on school on a Saturday?
I don't know. I'm not a sophomore, so cross out any assumptions of NSTP.
I also have no girlfriend who's a sophomore, so cross out any assumptions of me being a total wheel.

I went to school yesterday because I'm such a bad-ass... and we all know that bad-asses spend their Saturday mornings reading manly books and doing some mental push-ups. I went to xerox the Kaelin readings for the Long Test this monday.
Did I tell you I'm such a bad ass?
Grrrrr.... grrr...

Lo and behold.. she was there. The troll.

tun dun dun..

The troll

tun dun dun...

There's a senior in the lib who makes tambay right beside the stairs listening to, probably, some gothic tune in her laptop and trying to spread the message that she doesn't give a shit what people think, and we shouldn't too. She actually sits on the floor in that little space between the stairway and the miniature replica of the Ateneo campus. She even has the nerve to remove her shoes and expose her feet.
(Nothing's more horrifying than the feet of pure yuckity)
She's probably one of those vegan women who think that hamsters should be freed from cages or that there's a conspiracy in the government to mind-control us. It doesn't matter though, she doesn't care what people think.

Well, if it's any consolation...
...I think that you will never get a job.
That you have really mean parents.
That your only friend runs on batteries.
or is dead.
That no one will attend your funeral, except for Will Ferrel trying to pick up some crying chicks.
Well too bad Will. She never had friends.

How's that sound troll?
Oh, I forgot... you don't care.
At least I have a clean conscience telling all my Atenean blog-readers to notice you and snicker in silence as they pass your rotten face on the side of the stairway.

Spread the word... we shouldn't care what people think!!
Instead... we should live out our days in solitude listening to crap music, have no real non-battery-operated friends and spend the rest of our lives telling ourselves that we're being strong and doing the right thing.

Amen to you troll.

By the way, Alfie Caballero had a crush on her.
So sorry man

Wouldn't it be great if the cost of metal drops significantly, and we can now bump cars freely without any worry of that 30,000 peso repair damage you'd have to pay for?
That'd spare a lot of white hairs when dealing with singits.

Banggain mo lang. Tapos magtapon ka lang ng Isang daan sa kaniya para ayos na lahat.
Ay... kay sarap ng buhay na di totoo.

Social Injustice

I celebrated my birthday two weeks ago. Hooray. 

Now comes the reality of having to renew my license. It is a chore to say the least. The day off. Going to the LTO. Man, I wish that systematized automatic renewals would just appear now, amidst the continuing corruption that prohibits this type of development.

Damn corruption.

But, I had a fixer. This was when I first applied for my license. Our family driver, Joe, accompanied me because his job description is to basically have my back, and he did so by getting a fixer. During that time, there was this broken down manual jeep that every new applicant had to drive. Everyone, but me. Because I asked my fixer if it was okay that I used an automatic car. Perplexed by this request, the fixer approached Joe and they had sort of arrived at a mutual agreement.

Joe, then walked away and brought in the Mercedes E-240 that we had used to get to the LTO. About 500 people saw me awkwardly maneuver this machine back and forth, stop and go. It was painful. Talk about being discreet.

I then went to the examination room. There was a packet containing a questionnaire that I had to fill up. And by some wizardry, all the answers where already there.

So now as I return to the scene of this most obvious crime, I once again strive to find the shortcut in order to speed up this pending hassle. Any fixers out there?

Here comes the Sun

Oh God. "Here comes the Sun" is being played loudly in one of those orgs in the MVP building. Everyone's singing and cheering at this great folk song.

I'm sad. I thought this was my jam. :(

Senior year jitters

It's a mixed feeling of wanting to be rid of school once and for all, while coping with the looming dread of being kicked out of your house after graduation.

Somehow I hope to cling on this childhood. My nails are clawed in. I still feel like a kid. I literally just watched a replay of Swat Kats over a bowl of Oreo O's.

I guess the scary thing is the autonomy and what looms in the distant future. Somehow school's supposed to get us ready for the next few years, when all around you, you see technology change the way we do things. Paid blogs never existed and now people are making bags from this new addition to their portfolio. Will banks still be a thing? Will I work in an office or in a field with my laptop? I don't know.

I do have jitters, but what I learned from this experience is that sometimes it's not the grades that matter, but that you went through it. No matter what academic, social, emotional, physical aspect of life was thrown at me, here I am still standing.

You may have bruises and battle scars, but here you stand. Bet on yourself, you've made it this far. 

The thorn on my side

Her name is ____________ and I dislike her. 

In my opinion, just as everyone is born to find their perfect match, there exists an alternate fuck-up. This is the yang to your perfect yin. 

Let's call her A. 

Her name is A. 

and I hate her. 

One thing I hate about miss A is the fact that she can't seem to keep her dam phone silent for a minute. I see her with no friends, none whatsoever. Yet she manages to have all these conversations that no one will ever give a rat's ass about. Who are you talking to friendless woman? 

You're also a user. You ask to be brought to school. You ask for favors and because you are a woman, you are excused from paying back. 

What the hell?

Okay, okay. I got busted by her. This is me justifying my loss. Just let me recoup guys.

I hate having a low and mildly "hard-to-understand" voice.

What if i give the greatest speech ever as a wedding proposal to my girlfriend and
what if she returns with one of those awkward plastic smiles and says
"Uhhh... could you say it again? hehehe... I didn't get that."

What should guy do after that? Do you, my fellow oboe-voiced friends, repeat the proposal? or do you just pop the ring?

This is important stuff man.
Important stuff.

I have a new word for hell week...



I call it FUCKTOPIA

Devastation

- where you wait for the bus.

Cringe moments

I've been downloading like crazy via the new torrent sites. Last weekend, since I was on my period, I decided to have a cringe fest and now, I'd like to present my Cringe moments for the weekend: 

 1.) Beauty and the Beast In the sequence where Mrs. Potts was singing the "Tale as old as time..." thing, Belle did something remarkably cheesy. Before they danced, Belle took Beast's giant hand and placed it around her waist. At this point, Beast was a shy bastard. He was tense. There was this moment even, where he gulped. But Belle took the lead as if implying "I got you big guy". See that part. That is some cheesy Romantic shit that just makes you miserable that there's no poor provincial town nearby that possesses a hottie such as Belle. 

2.) Notting Hill the part when Julia Roberts says "Indefinitely" 

3.) Sense and Sensibility I know this movie is old and tiptoeing over to the fruity side, but hear me out. Edward Ferrars and Miss Dashwood kinda fell for each other. But Edward was engaged to another girl. In months that passed, Miss Dashwood received news of Mr. Ferrars' wedding. Of course she was sad. Then Edward cam over and explained that it was his brother who got married to the woman he was engaged to, thus breaking his promise to her. The next lines are " I have come with no expectations, only to express, now I am able, that my heart is, and always will be ... yours." 

I'll be going back to action movies after my period ends.

Ugly. Hairy. Angry.

Last night, i watched Beauty and the Beast (ahermm... with my younger sister OF COURSE) I then found a small detail about the movie. 

The Enchanted rose that would decide the fate of the Beast was in sync to his 21st Birthday. The last petal would fall off once our beasty boy became a man. (alam niyo ba yun? tang ina... ngayon ko lang nakita eh) 

Anyways... finding your one true love on or before your 21st birthday? It is regarded as a Seal-marrying-Heidi-Klum type of miracle. Only change the fact that Seal had to be 21! 

But... why do i give Beast the advantage here? Here are my points: 

1) Belle's a nice girl... it always helps a beast trying to get a girl to love you when she doesn't care what you look like. Ah Belle, why can't all women be like you... then we could all eat our lives out with charbroiled burgers without worrying about abs and having only one chin. 

2) Belle's desperate to fit in. People were even singing on how she didn't blend with the crowd. "Look there she goes that girl is so peculiar I wonder if she's feeling well With a dreamy, far-off look And her nose stuck in a book What a puzzle to the rest of us is Belle" Which makes sense as to see how French people find people who read picture-less books as rather odd. 

3) The Beast is dam rich. He owns a damn library. He has a castle. Nobody's been in or out of the castle for years which means nobody's been grocery shopping, yet he has enough food in there to waste on a "Be our guest" performance. 

4) THE BIGGEST REASON OF ALL They were the only two people in their world. Belle didn't have snooping friends pressuring her and making her gago by saying shit like "Yiheee..... gusto ka ni Beast... yihi... panget ang may gusto sa iyo". 

Kung kaya ni Beast.. kaya mo rin bro. KAYA RENS.... MAY PAG-ASA KA!!!!