I haven't watched MTV for months now, and I just have to say...


WHO DA FUCK IS JUSTIN BIEBER?


are people seriously buying this fool's album?

Stars on Twitter

Yes I follow them. Some of which are main stay cast members in my wet dreams. But stars on twitter have become the prime reason for the site's success.

What I find annoying is that these people are so normal.... because you know they aren't. For some deep unconscious reason, I feel that these stars are playing with us. Parang it's like (redundance right there) they're trying to use twitter to make pa-cute or to make everyone feel like they're just like you and me, hoping that'll make 'em so much cooler (shades of Zac Efron claiming he was a geek in High school despite starring in HSM).

Blogging that they're pigging out (I bet it's a couple of crabsticks or if ever it was ever a real meal, I bet they spend the next hours on the gym working it off because it's so damn important). They also blog that they eat siomaii or banana-Q or any one of those jolog sidestreet vendo food crap. I mean, fuck ya'll. Live your way easy lives and be done with it.

I know my boss, who's a therapist, says that we can't blame the stars and that they have problems we can't even imagine... but imagine what? That they put so much trouble in superficial things that they get depressed at the snap of a broken fingernail? They chose the easy. They chose the superficial and all the problems that come with it. It's not my fault that most of them decided to skip school and become oh-so dependent on their careers that they're willing to binge to get anywhere.


Well fuck it... i know that most of these stars live normal lifestyles compared to what we expect out of them, but I hate the importance they get for being pretty.

It's being pretty fucked up and I thank Sigmund Freud in teaching me why this is so. Read up on Psychodynamics.

Did I mention I hate Jake Cuenca? I'm glad the world think he has bad breath. He's probably the definition of Narcissistic easy money.

I want Congee

I had stat class yesterday with Jopay Nolasco, who I have to say, is one of the most pleasant personalities to ever handle as a prof. But the mindset after was on my other class and the quiz this monday.

Objective tests of Personality by Roger Davis

So I had lunch, my favorite Halo-Halo congee and started to study.

Unfortunately this saturday was also "Brother breaks his PSP" day... so I wasted a couple of hours in some little shop in Festival, trying to get the damn thing to work.

Alright, alright... so I got home, PSP all patched up and with that new Need for Speed game that the old me would get his dirty little hands on. But the new me wanted to study the evolution of psychological assesment and psycotherapy.

Unfortunately, this saturday was also "the day after I stayed up till 3am last night drinking with some friends outside the house and I never got a chance to sleep because of stat class" day. So you could imagine my eyes, drooping towards my cheeks (I thought I should do this more often so as not to be mistaken for a Korean). Next thing I knew, I was waking up at 5pm.

The house was toxic... with so many kids and gaming consoles lying around, I left for BF... hoping to find any one of those quiet places that people love to photograph and blog about and say all that "this is where I find my inner peace" bullshit. I ended up in Figaro, mainly because I had to buy a highlighter in the bookstore nearby, and I was too tamad to change parking pa, kaya I stayed nalang there.

It was very fruitful for about 30 minutes till I got the call that my sister needed to go to confession (Taking holy communion is a big thing in my house, it's kinda like the Ateneo ID or the the blood compact for the Katipunan). And after confession... guess what. Guess!
Maya's penance was to attend mass that day. The fucking priest right!

So due to my fucked up study deprived attitude, I attended mass with my sister like that father who's never seen his son, and is trying hard to win him back. We played "who can stand up the longest while everyone else is sitting down" or who can walk back the slowest after communion and block everyone else trying to get to their seats. I'm sorry God but I was in such a bad mood.

Got home and reheated some of my favorite Congee for dinner.

And now I'm studying.... for 8 hours straight now.
This overnight studying thing that people always talked about, but never really did, only saying so for attracting empathy purposes...
This overnight studying thing is awesome.

From her

"nobody will ever understand us
but then again, they're nobodies

it's always hard to explain to people why i do what i do why i love what i love

my love for literature doesn't begin and end with the closing and opening of a book
it goes beyond that
it's not a personal thing
when i read a book i have to tell the whole world about it
not only because it's a good read
but because it might be something someone might understand

to unfold a book
and let it unfold you in return
to memorize a verse a line a poem by heart
because you know that in some distant past
that verse that line that poem was yours

reading a poem in front of a group of people
hearing a familiar response
the same sigh the same smile
makes me realize that we are never apart in love or tragedy or anger or fear
all we need is that single poem that can translate the many languages of the heart

it's a beautiful feeling to be opened and closed by a book or a poem
to feel and to be explained and understood by another's writing
and to imagine that somewhere else in the world
someone knows exactly what you mean

literature is a doorway a portal a secret passageway
into the minds of madmen, geniuses, lovelorn poets,
misunderstood teenagers, jaded grown-ups, quirky grandparents,
faeries, oblivious children, compulsive criminals

little by little you realize that there is a bit of a madman in each person,
a genius, a lovelorn poet, a misunderstood teenager, etc., etc.

to experience everything within a day of nonstop reading
to grasp the extent of another's sadness in one sitting
and having it slowly become yours

that is why i love literature

and that is why i feel a need to spread this love for literature

because with books
we are never alone

words are my communion"

Groupmate

One of my groupmates is genuinely terrifying. She’s a mom with a voice that channels pure Miss Trunchbull energy. Style-wise, she’s immaculate: bright clothes, impeccably flat-ironed hair, and those high-end shoes that make you question the entire fashion industry.

But she’s also that person—the one who relentlessly interrogates you about your personal life, and snaps at you to stop doodling the moment a lecture slows down.

I am so intimidated by this woman that if I were taking a dump in a restroom stall with a broken lock and she accidentally walked in, I would literally stand up, apologize to her, and just keep pooping.

Eleven. More. Weeks.

Whenever I get my hands dirty with stain during an inuman, I usually wash it by getting a drink, rubbing my hands all over the condensation of the bottle and then returning the bottle.

Slick diba?
And that's why they call me candle guy.





But this is what everyone does, right?

Masters Day 1

I thought grad school would be full of mature, intelligent, adult-looking people. I expected a pregnant woman or a guy in his late twenties having a crisis. Isn't that the movie trope?

Instead, it felt like third year all over again. Everyone was trying to fit in, talking about dumb shit, and sleeping in class. They looked like freshmen, a few still had zits, and one dude actually started a sentence with, "Based on the Magna Carta..."

What kind of fuckery is this? I didn't sign up for an undergraduate sequel.

But no surprise there—turns out a Master's program is just full of unemployed grads trying to revamp their lives.

Growth

For the first time in a long time, I feel pretty good about where my life is headed. I have a great job, I’m finally in the Master’s program I’ve wanted forever, my schedule is packed, and my brain is an empty sponge ready to absorb the truly important things in life. Like porn.

But then, there's this. I think I’ve mentioned my brother’s condition before. If not, let me break it down: he’s on the autism spectrum. It comes with significant difficulties in social interaction, along with highly restricted, repetitive behaviors and interests. For example, he’s been playing the exact same video game for five months straight without getting bored. When he interacts with others, he’s a bull in a china shop—screaming, grabbing at people's skin, or laughing out loud at an enormous mole. He doesn't have the slightest clue that it's wrong.

So, what does the future hold for him?

He can definitely get a job... but it’s the kind of job you try to hide on Facebook. He’d be great behind a desk, as long as he’s following strict instructions that require zero independent thinking. Fuck. There is no blueprint for what my family is trying to do for him. There is no light at the end of the tunnel because right now, we are the ones digging the tunnel. We are completely drained and confused.

There is an obsession with making everything uniform and profitable that it actively destroys human potential. Multiple intelligences. Different internal wirings. Everyone is good at something. Everyone should be entitled to develop their own specific potential.

Celine Dion and Adrea Bocelli are singing "the Prayer" in the background. It's actually quite good.

This week will be very big. I start my Masters tomorrow and in mind, finishing it would give me an educational level higher than most people, and some titular letters at the end of my name.

That's why we do this things, ain't it? For the business cards.

Now off to wonderful things. :)

Autism and AD/HD battlefronts

Tomorrow will be very weird. I've handled students who have had Asperger's and Down syndrome and Extremely low levels of self-confidence and anxiety attacks, as well as AD/HD... but tomorrow will be very different. 

This is my first counseling with teenage Autism. Teenage Autism. When you hear of Autism and research about it over the internet and youtube, you see how teachers become very creative in the way they teach kids. Using the old methods of conditioning that we learn from Psych 101, they reward these Autistic kids with good behavior and give a slap on the hand for bad ones. Simple, effective, yet problematic, due to the fact that most of their students were 10 or younger. 

Tomorrow i have a teenager. 

This'll be tough. I heard he's taller than me.

Challenge Accepted!

Bike Quest

22k isn't too much for a bike right? I mean people buy shades for 13k and get away with it.

End of an Era

Facebook's replacing YM. I now have to re-friend everybody.

Generational Curses

I've just finished reading a 12 page piece on my mom's thoughts about her dad.
Grampa.

Sept. 30 marked his two year death anniversary, and expecting all the prayers and mass sponsorships that my mom would've done that day, I was treated to this. "Growing up with dad" written by Eileen Araneta.

It speaks volumes to me of what lies beneath the grandpa-grandkids relationship. Behind every Christmas gift, behind every "Ryan, come here, watch PBA with me", behind every time my grampa would wanna do something with me.... there was my mom. Fearing the worst.

My grampa wasn't the person he tried to portray to his grandkids, and I could tell.
My mom's piece was the final nail on it.

He was a dictator. Power-hungry. A charmer. Completely self-serving.
He was a womanizer, the worst kinda husband my gandma could've ever gotten hitched to.
He is the epitome of SLY GUY.

I won't narrate the entire piece that my mom wrote. First, it isn't fair to her and second, 12 pages about someone else's Lolo isn't gonna cut it out with you guys. At least if I was famous, it probably could.

But I'd like to discuss GENERATIONAL CURSES. It is that which I am fearing now. The traits and bad habits that filtered from my grampa, to my mother (although she might never accept it) to me... and hopefully, never to my kids, if I would be so blessed to have some.

We are all brought up differently. And generational curses may expose it's ugly head under the circumstances we are brought up. Let's take power-hunger as an example. To some, it may be exposed in the dictatorial sense to be ruthless, uncaring and Machiavellian, such as what happened with my Grampa. It seemed to him that he had already won each debate he argued in.

Or.. It could be like what happened to my mom. Power-hungry because she wanted to separate herself from her dad. She became a workaholic, which eventually led her to her own success story and countless talks in school auditoriums.

And then there's my sister. Equally power hungry, but without the charm my grampa used to sleaze his way into situations or my mom's drive to become rich (growing up in Alabang Hills kinda does that to you). Rina ended up becoming a mixture of them both and their upbringing... and she soon found herself in a very lonely place.

For some reason I was never power-hungry. Maybe it will manifest itself in the future or in some work or some gay-ass hobby that I am yet to encounter. Who knows. But this is just an example. There are many other traits that we may keep from our parents, whom we hate to the very core, and pass it down to our children unsuspectingly. The white lies that my dad would make to my mom, so that he could buy things for the house. "The billiard table would help increase their peripheral vision" or some shit like that was never found as wrong. He did it with everything. The salesman that he is, he loved describing things as if it was God who created them. There was no darkside to every sales pitch he delivered, and if something wrong came up.. he'd always go "Eh what can we do?".
It eventually led me to my vice, which I have been curing for the past couple of years... LYING convincingly and effortlessly.

It's so easy for anyone to pick up these things... that it's scary.

So for any wrongdoings or bad habits that I have, which you may know about (So far I know that I lie a lot, tend to think "an eye for an eye", and generally don't trust people)... save me. As Y2J Chris Jericho used to say "save me".

Maybe preserving your name comes at the risk of preserving your family's bad habits.

Can I just sleep?
Right here right now on my desk?

So what if Miss Vicky comes in and sees me like this? What the fuck she gonna do?
Fire me?

Last Day

Tomorrow... I don't know what to do.

Isn't that so motherfucking great?!?!?!!?

It's Thursday tomorrow and I don't know what to do. That's like the most fucking awesome feeling in the list of most fucking awesome feelings ever! I am unemployed tomorrow. No timelines. No costs. No waiting on clients. Tomorrow it's over.

It will be the start of my short journey to self-discovery and Plan 2 in my post college life. I'm seeing the real deal here brothers and I couldn't be happier.

Fuck me! I couldn't be happier!
I feel so chocolate. Chocolate pare


It's what... 11:30 am right now. And I'm still 7 hours away from officially being out.
Please come sooner, so I can got to the mall... walk around. Have dinner. Buy a book. Read it in some discreet area and not worry about staying up too late, because tomorrow is literally a new day.

Now back to being excited and planning for my road trip to Pampanga tomorrow. What better way to start a vacation than in the middle of a national crisis right? At least there's shit to do everywhere.

Hysteric

My introduction to the Yeah Yeah Yeahs came via their 2006 hit, "Gold Lion", through Nikki's carpool mixtape. In all honesty, it sounded like something people play in a rally against the infrastructure. Back then, absolutely nobody else knew the lyrics, but we followed along to the chorus. It's easy, since you just have to imagine the sound of Karen O giving "Oooh Ooh"s like she was making love on top of a camel. From that moment on, whenever I think of a rebellious feminist, I think of Karen O and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.

So, "Hysteric", their recent release was somewhat unexpected.

Karen O had shed her usual angry lesbian battle cry to create this wonderful homage to the carefree nature of love and purpose. Her voice is heavy, yet soft. You feel the slow excitement she has for the unknown that she's experiencing.

In the line "The cinders. The cinders. Light the path. To these strange steps", she challenges the common lyric of love and purpose being obvious. In most love songs, we are often struck by the notion of "the one". I know I was. Expecting that the one would have a great big giant spotlight in her direction. In this case, all you have are cinders to light the path.

I relate with this now because of the shifting nature of my life. There is no spotlight that will guide me to the next step. I am often scared and confused. I admire Karen O's lackadaisical approach to the unknowns. Whether its Masters, or a job or a business that I start on my own, I just gotta enjoy the process.

So in the words of the great lesbian poet Karen O, "Flow sweetly. Hang heavy".

Let's do this.

Noy

I woke up at around 6am, like I always do unintentionally. I would've remembered this day as the Grad school entrance test fuckover, but it would be soon overshadowed and literally overflowed by the rain and the news and manila and politics and AM radio announcements.

This is my country. Alleluiah!
Let's talk about Odyong later.

I rushed to school that morning for the first step in the Grad school application process. People have been reminding me for weeks not to study, because that shit jumbles your brain and shit, but shit man, was that test hard?!?! As in shit it was hard. I swear, a tear came outta my eye, not because of the emotional instability that the test was causing, but because my brain was literally squeezing itself, trying to extract as much thought juice as possible.

One of which trickled down my left eye.
It was like
"if Heraclitus is to a Filigree, then Aeschillus is to a?"

...

chocolate pare.
CHOCOLATE.

No, chocolate wasn't the answer, fools. As in natsokolate ang utak ko sa mga tanong na ganiyan.

I skipped the final announcements and ran to my car to beat the rain.
Made it. In my car. ready to roll... it's 11:30
But rustling and bustling to the parking lot, I was picking up mumbles of students. "Di gumagalaw ang traffic", "You're cute", "Baha katips", "No, you're the cute one", "We're stranded". All this fucking jitter that you don't take literally, thinking that students are exaggerating things for the point of conversation.
Well today, they were right for once.

Traffic was an ass-fucking rapist.
You were literally gonna waste liters of gas for three fucking inches of movement.

Let's skip some hours and boring things I did inbetween.


430pm... traffic was finally flowing. Cars poured from the exits into katipunan. Guards were waking up drivers who fell asleep from the boredom of seeing the same car trunk for four straight hours.
Relief. Progress. I wasn't gonna degrade myself by sleeping in some floor in school. I was going home.

Fuck it. I was GOING HOME!
a hundred kilometers away. I was going home.

You see 4 lanes of cars converge into the side. Apparently our roads slope towards the sidewalks, so you see everyone cramping towards the left to cross the shallowest depth of water. After your turn, you'd speed up. Stretch your unused legs and become familiar once again to some significant car movement... all until the next ditch of water where cars cramp up again.

This was katipunan to libis. and libis to everywhere. This is why full tank was invented.

But no one was getting into C5... except for tadpoles and dirty little children experiencing the joys of a free swimming pool. They reminded me of myself when I was younger. My only flooded house experience happened in 98 when we still lived in Las Pinas. Water was up to our thighs, the entire village was out. And all the kids brought out their kick boards, tabo's, water guns, and any plastic toy that floats on water. We didn't give a shit about getting a fever, or diseases or viruses that old people always complain about. We loved life because of our naivety, and because of our naivety, we were lovable. This is the curse of children who grow up. With age comes wisdom and with wisdom comes the troubles and the responsibilities and the system that turns you into shit.

You realize that the world was never meant to be enjoyable.
It was meant to test you.

Rains, entrance exams, flooding, jobs that take the life from you... it's all one big test.

And you can choose to take it, or realize that there's no point.

You just go and do what you want, play lucky and hope that the world cooperates.

I sincerely wish that I'd feel good in the office lifestyle, because I look good in a tie.

But I don't.

Outliers

This is a term coined by that author of "The tipping point". Apparently he's not famous enough to remember. But OUTLIERS says that we are all who we are by every little thing that has happened. People moving in. The type of plant that grows in our neighborhood. The friends of friends of friends. The perfume of women you meet.

They all contribute to who we are.

So now I apologize for what I was to you.

And for everything that has happened to you in the past 2 years, I am sorry.
More sorry than anything ever.

Because by my actions, you have suffered.
In a life dedicated to not hurt any feelings by being cold, you have suffered.

And nobody deserves the life you're having.
Especially not my blood.

Not family

Your ex-lover is dead

I went ice skating a few weeks back. It's not the manliest of sports and, despite what you see in the movies, it is the absolute worst first date idea. You thought you could sneak in some hand holding by guiding her as she's gliding along the ice, well, no. Because you forgot that you've never skated in your life.

The rollerblades in grade school don't count.

So, yes. I fell. In front of everyone in Megamall. And as a joke I started to sing "Your ex-lover is dead"

But too bad no one got it. Apparently nobody's seen the music video. So now Your ex-lover potential is dead

Sisters

I feel kinda bad for leaving my officemates. It wasn't like college where you had peers competing for the love and attention of the public. It wasn't like everyone trying to be cool, telling each other how many countries they've visited or how many girlfriends they've had.

In this place, everyone WAS cool. They were accomplished and accomplishing. And they treated me like family.
In a bit over three months, even though I was a bit of a spoiled little fuck up, you guys picked me up.

I'd like to especially thank Nina.... from start to finish... you were a great ate, a great teammate and an even better friend.

I think I've just done something that could ruin my life.
But, in some fucked up way, it feels pretty good.

Neverland

To know that I'm 22 and still haven't grown up... there's a plus and minus for this.

The plus for this is that I still have the energy and unspoiled perspective to think that I can change the world one step at a time. There's still that motivation to go out, experience the goods that come with low paying jobs and high levels of fulfillment.

The minus for this is that I'm a career flop. If it's not something I don't completely love... I back out.


This is called discovery.
It's the responsibility of those guys that went ahead of the pack.

Mute

Oh alright. So maybe my life in research didn't end up the way it did. It was fun though. I enjoyed the pressure, the projects, the people and the pace. But at the end of the day, the desire that drove me to do these things, just wasn't there anymore.

This is a story that deserves a drink more than a blog.

Whether this decision was stupid or not... I can't say now. What if research becomes the platform for everything moneymaking in the future.. I won't fucking know that shit right now, dibbuh?

But what I can say... is that I feel good.

I'm free.

To face the demons that await me after doing this... and to live with it.

Let's see in five years.

If

If I had enough guts to do it... I'd walk up to my boss and tell her that I wanna quit.

But I'm a fucking twit. Rather than that, I just sit here and tell her I'm enjoying myself, hoping that the added pressure of my words may inspire me to force myself to bear with it.

Step1

Bogie, Oli and I are thinking about investing what we have in the restaurant business.

I think that part of my motivation is to be my own boss, so I can stop disappointing the one I have.

I'm also having thoughts of studying in LaSalle again for graduate studies.

I think that part of my motivation on this is to be finally good at something I love, instead of sucking at it right now.

And I'm thinking about taking that offer from Japan. You know? New country. Big town. small eyes.

I think that part of my motivation on this is so I can get away from here and be the big dick (literally) somewhere else.

I need a drink. A strong one that will turn me bright plum and make me barf.

A dose of reality, maybe.

That's what's cool about this blog. Aside from being a one-way ticket to looney-ville, talking to yourself has it's perks.

Ampalaya

Everyone's complaining about the microwave. It didn't seem to work today, which resulted to everyone eating cold food.

Except for me of course.

Cause it was I who broke it. I was microwaving my ampalaya, until I had this momentary fear that the container wasn't microwavable. So then, I twisted back the dial to stop the heating, removed my ampalaya and hurried back to my seat.

Minutes later, Jem was all... "Guys, sira ang microwave"

Don' t tell anyone though. Hot food's kinda a big thing around here.

The Lunchtime topic kanina was sex. "Oh you know guys... we did it in this position where...." So, yeah. This was new to me. It's one thing with guys. But something different with "titas". Hopefully, the conversation moves along.

But it didn't. Maybe I needed to grow up. 

Friday the 26th is twice as bad as Friday the 13th.
Right?

To be honest... I really like what I'm doing in Nielsen.

Research is the shit. And let's hope this lasts.

Overtime

I'm usually the first guy to leave the office. I calmly wait for 630pm and then BAM! I'm out like that shit I had in grade school. Poot proot poot peroot. Miggy Reyes still thinks it's chocolate.

I had my first overtime yesterday. And it completely sucked ass because aside from the last 10 minutes when my boss assigned me the midnight work, I was completely free. I was boring myself reading articles on the Lakers' victory, reading blogs of friends of friends of friends and playing my ass off with text twist.
I was so free that day, that it was foolish to think I was getting paid for this shit.

And so I waited for 630, like I always did until my boss... the real boss... the one with the power to fire anyone... called me and asked me to construct a questionnaire for a new project on powdered milk.
This happened at 6:22pm... I remembered it, because that's when I completely and silently lost my nerve.
So I stayed. Usually, for a questionnaire... we need two days to make one of quality. I needed less than 12 hours as my boss had her all important meeting before lunchtime the next day.

Fuck it.

Lesson learned... when boss approaches desk, pretend to drop a ballpen and duck the fuck down.

Because, for rich-lookin' guys like me, the only thing worse than commuting through the metro, is commuting through the metro at midnight.

Sure

“I can't deny that I'm a nerd” – Katie Holmes

“I was a nerd in school” – Zac Efron

“I'm a big nerd!” – Red Sox pitcher Curt Schilling

“[I was a] nerd to your language, yes” – Jean-Claude Van Damme

“Oh my God, I'm such a nerd!” – at least one good-looking person at every party I've attended since 2002.

Sure. You're all nerds

Rainfall in the morning

Last friday, I had gone out for the first time with some officemates in Makati. I left out the detail that I was commuting home. 

Unfortunately, by the time I got to the Alabang Hills exit in the service road, the shuttle and the trikes were no longer available. Then it rained out of nowhere.

There were about 2 kilometers between the Total gas station and our house. And I walked every single one of them. Under the Friday rain. I then got home at about 1am.

Pissed. And soaked. 

Barado

My office mates often times make fun of my voice.

I want to retaliate, but I'm afraid that my insults would be too deep for them to understand with their tagalog upbringing.

I also fear that they may not handle the truth.

R.I.P.

Willy the snake

creature of #8 Olongapo street

MARCH 30, 2009 - MARCH 31, 2009

Double "Dating"

Okay. So I'm seeing someone now. And if she sees this blog, I'm fucked.

The thing is, I didn't think I had a shot with the other one. Her med-school schedule was quite hectic, and despite trying for a date or two, we called it quits.

And now, from the grapevine, I heard she's apparently freer. Which is weird, cause I thought med school became more hectic. But she's free. 

So free that, out of nowhere she asked a football question.

And I answered.

And she asked when their next match is.

And I invited her to watch tonight after my work.

So I don't double date, but this technically ain't a date. Not yet. Shit like this fucks men up. The fact that I'm entertaining her means the current setup isn't that appealing.

I know where this is gonna end. 2nd semester of med school will become more hectic and we'll call it quits again.

I won't worry about the first girl either. There's a mountain to climb if we're gonna end up together. Let's see.

Benched

We do have our usual games on Sunday night. Everyone's free before the week starts. The time's late enough to have the court all to ourselves. 8pm? 9pm? 12am... and yes, some of us do have work tomorrow. This is actually where I have had the most fun in the past couple of weeks. People also started making kwento about JV Sebial's famed Axe Advesrtisement. I shall post it in the next blog. 

Watching the ongoing game, I talked to Mark about his pending trip to Australia. If this conversation happened three months back, I'd probably be in a different direction now. Who knows? This desk job thing may not have ever occured. Mark, with about 15 hundred dollars in his backpocket attempts to live it out rough in the outback. Suddenly, the movie "Into the Wild" came into mind. It's amazing how many lives that movie has changed since its release last year. More and more kids are second-guessing the career path. But then I thought to myself... does this decision not to work come from my appetite to explore or my laziness to push myself through the workforce? It could be a combination of both. I suspect it is. It's easy to say "what the fuck is the point to work?", because we've been thinking about experience being the ultimate measure of how successful your life is. But when you think about it.. it's also about caring for others. Staying home. Making money. Raising children. Saving the country. Building a future.

So fuck the emo-ness bro. Work because others can't. And to be honest, there might be a purpose in it.

Coffee

I'm gonna call him Clarence. His real name is pretty weird and if he does google it (which I suspect he does), he'd probably find his way into this blog. This is the crap that us bloggers have to deal with. So, I'm gonna call him Clarence because he looks like one anyway. 

Every other day, Clarence asks me to have coffee with him and his buddies. I guess it's kinda nice on his part to offer me a hand. You see, I'm the only actual guy in my division, and Clarence probably thinks that I feel kinda alone with all these women. "Hey Lorenzo, why don't you stop by some time and have some coffee with us". He has a coffee station right beside his office where he and the few guys in the office make some cups of coffee and hang out. What a nice guy. But you see man... in my 21 and a half years of existence, I've never made a cup.

Never. Can you believe it? 

Well yeah, I've drank my fair share. But I've never made timpla. So that's the dilemma, Clarence. As much as I hate lying to you and telling you that I'm gonna join you "next time", the chances of me looking like a total child go extremely up when I'm confronted with the task of mixing my own cup of coffee. What goes first? The water or the coffee mix? What the hell do I do with the coffee beans? Do I dip them in the hot water and then filter them out later?

You're just not worth it Clarence. Cool guy. Not worth it.

Floating

You know what parents?

You're not the only ones who want me outta the house.

The No man

After blowing off some steam to Kester and Belle, I am still pissed beyond piss. For all the good that others try to do, some choose to be negative. 

Fucking pessimists. The "No" man. Fuck you. 

I wanted to have an outing. So I suggested and planned it. Then you said "di naman matutuloy yun eh". 

And I hate that you're right. So many backing out. Some for good reasons. Some for reasons that I barely understand.

GRADUATION DAY

It's like I really really wanna cry, but I'm so fucking manly that I can't.

Flex

If you ask people about their college experiences, I bet P.E. would be at the bottom of the list. It's useless. It seems forced. Plus nothing memorable happens. 

Not for me. 

Arnis class during first year wasn't all that cool. The uniforms were terrible and itchy. It was the butt of jokes because dudes said they didn't need training on how to handle long hard sticks. The teacher was round, gritty, soft-looking yet mean-looking at the same time. He was sort of the reincarnation of Fred Flintstone and Barney Rubble's love child. I called him Fred Rubble.

But then I met her that day and she is why Arnis class sticks out (no pun intended) so much. My favorite college memory happened on the first day. I just want to tell you the story of how I had the prettiest girl in school right beside me in Arnis class and didn't know it. 

So day 1.

Despite the class schedule that was pinned to the back of my notebook, I was apparently late for Arnis class. Everyone was already dressed up sitting in a circle around Fred Rubble, while he was explaining the history of Arnis. I squeezed in the back and there she was. Right beside me saying Hi. We introduced each other, chatted and completely ignored the wealth of information that Fred Rubble had spent all summer preparing. She was pretty, but I thought there would be prettier in the school. I was wrong then, as I am wrong now.

We hung out after class and would see each other occasionally along the corridors in the next few days. But my man-child brain was in the hunt. I was in an All-Boys high school for four years. I wasn't gonna be swept away by the first pretty girl I saw. There had to be more.

A few weeks after, Fred Rubble called me over and said that I had been attending the wrong class. No wonder I was late on day 1. My class was after. Soon I was transferred and lost my only constant contact with her.

Year 1 ended, and soon Year 2, 3, and now I've graduated. I've had run-ins with her throughout the years, but I was always in a different group, looking for someone else. Now, I'm here. 4 years later, after that first day, I'm drinking with some friends and reflecting on our college lives. Today is exactly 24 hours after the Blue roast. I'm happy with everything I've done in college. I've been out with other girls, but none as perfect as those first few weeks and P.E. classes with her.

I realize that this memory of her is protected by the wonder of possibility. She was perfect in those first few meetings, which is not enough time to burst the usual bubble that follows a lengthy overexposure to women. I know that.

Ateneo has this tradition of giving a blue rose during the Blue Roast to your crush or something. I gave her my rose and that was that. :) 

It was so fucking awkward to say the least, but I wanted to do it for myself. She deserved my blue rose.

I'm regretting now, but I know it's the buzz.

Just hope she gets fat. :)

JUST DO IT

Walking away...
Let the "OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD"s consume the first few minutes.

Arm around your buddy's neck.
Screaming, shouting, stretching the tendons in your fist
and savoring the moment that stupidity had just brought.


Just do it.

Who cares what happens next?



Just do it. :)

Of the last 84 hours, 20 have been spent playing Left For Dead.
I now have a serious headache and my left eye is starting to twitch when exposed to sunlight.

Purpose

Buzz: No, Woody, for the first time I am thinking clearly. You were right all along. I'm not a Space Ranger, I'm just a toy, a stupid little insignificant toy...

Woody: Whoa, hey, wait a minute. Being a toy is a lot better than being a Space Ranger.

Buzz: Yeah, right...

Woody: No, it is! Look, over in that house is a kid who thinks you're the greatest, and it's not because you're a Space Ranger, pal, it's because you're a toy! You're his toy!

Parents don't treat you like children once you've graduated.

They treat you like their walking 1.5million peso investment, on the verge of the all-important payback.

"PUT THE PAST AWAY"

Third Eye Blind... you did it again with your timely words of wisdom.

Why are the streets of Manila polluted with shoes?
And they're not even in pairs. I constantly find slippers or fake Nike's flattened on the streets of EDSA, Slex and Commonwealth.

Apparently, the odds of losing footwear are greater in the Philippines. Beware of feet-flinging.

GEEK OUT!: Watchmen

So here's my question in regards to Watchmen. If Rorschach's death was to ultimately preserve the unity between warring countries against Dr. Manhattan, what was wrong with having another alternative? If Rorschach did go to the authorities and tell the world that it was all Ozymandias, wouldn't he (instead of Dr. Manhattan) be the target of everyone's hate and fear?

Rorschach didn't have to die. But then again, it's a darn good thing that he's fictional. Imagine bumping that fucker while walking in the street...

My first experience with photography.

PUERTO GALERA

Don't worry... I'm not gonna turn on you guys and be
one of those Chinese fuckers who call themselves photographers
because they carry around a big camera.

Plus, those things are expensive.

It's amazing how John Mayer and Third Eye Blind have all the songs for every emotional outburst. They're probably the only reasons for my ongoing sanity.

Guilt and trips

On the way home from Galera, we decided to commute. We took a 3-hour bus ride from the Batangas Port to the Metropolis station on the underside of the Alabang overpass. After that long trip which included unnecessary stops in Lipa and Tanauan (which explains why it pretty much took three hours to get to Alabang), I was in no mood for any more commuting. I was gonna take a cab to my house. It cost me 250 pesos, but I didn't give a shit. 

  "Saan po kayo galing, sir?" asked the cab driver. "Puerto Galera po and pwede po pahatid sa Alabang hills?" 

We were given an update on the news we've missed in this vacation. At first, the cab driver pointed out that we missed the Eraserheads concert due to our stay in Galera, but then retorted by saying "Pero, sabagay, di naman po kayo nakikinig dun eh".  

After that... he gave his ultimate guilt-trip line."Sarap ng buhay po noh? Nabuhay ka lang at mayaman po kayo kaagad"

He is the reason why I avoid the masses.

All these things that I've done

I've got to give mad props to the Killers for writing a hell of a song. The build up, the intro, the senseless lyrics have me pumped. Ode to Joy and Chariots of fire be damned, this is my graduation song.

Brandon Flowers starts by saying all the things he wants to do. The verses are hopeful and upbeat. Even the often somber line "When there's nowhere else to run", is said so hopefully, you know it'll finish off with something good. There's also an appreciation of change from the "cold hearted boy I used to be". But all this, is really just a long intro into the final verse.

"I got soul, but I'm not a soldier!" 

Repeated ten times, supported by a church choir in the background. The amazing bridge becomes a sing-a-long battlecry. Allelujah! You've just broken free from 4 years.

Thank you Ateneo. For the time, truth and hearts. We did it everyone.

"While everyone's lost, the battle is won with all these things that I've done"

Hello Sunshine

There's a song called "Hello Sunshine" by Jimmy Cliff that perfectly captures this moment. The muta, the bad breath, the early morning blues in anticipation of a meaningful day. 

  In a couple of hours, I will defend my CS179.11 website in front of my metal-mouthed professor who acts years younger than me. I will walk away from that fulfilled and happy. I have will have absolutely no more academic requirements and make no use of my brain ever again (and yes... even in a job). 

And then after, we have a group dinner celebration. Tomorrow, two job interviews in a span of three hours. Afterwards, I shall enjoy the Makati alcohol experience. This weekend, I shall probably go to Corregidor, if nature and planning goes our way. Then what? 

Hello, sunshine.

Crime Pays

My friends have been telling me all this time to schedule my annual Guidance interview (something I have never done in four years of school). Izzy even personally visited the guidance department to ask whether these things we necessary for graduation. And true to the matter, they were. 

We need one interview a year to graduate. Oh mercy me... how was I gonna get through? Having never gone through a single one, how was I gonna make up for four years of this shit? 

Instead of 4 hours of talking... all I had to do was pay 75 pesos and answer an essay. This is why crime pays. 

How it was done

I guess every course has a subject that students consider as the academic Hiroshima. Let's say for the Humanities courses such as Literature and Philosophy, they have their thesis papers and defense. For those taking Communications, they have this Big Production to do, such as a play or a film. And probably, for those taking a Physical education course, they have that final requirement of 5,000 push-ups or something.

I don't know...

But I do know, that for my course (Management Economics), it goes down to the final LS127 defense. To those who do not know, LS127 is a course on managing a social enterprise. In a nutshell, it's running a business where the poor contribute and earn from it.

Talking to your parents and unmarried uncles, you'd know how hard it is to run a business. Financials come into play, as well as, operations planning, marketing, investments and structure. Now, mix that up with the burden that students already have to deal with in regards to other subjects, then you'd probably think that I'm pretty much pooped right now from the work, right?

Wrong!
Capitalize the "W"
Wrong!!!

Why?

Take note, that our group had a highly successful business. We did not tweak any of our financials(WHICH EVERY GROUP DOES!!!!, BY THE WAY)

This is how our LS126 and 127 was done:
(Listen carefully disciples of the weak and lazy... this is for you)

1. Be simple and smart... create the easiest product to do and tell your teachers that there's a market for it. With that, they have no comment or negative criticism of your product. Marketing is all about the market.

When the lots were being drawn on the selection of poor communities, my LS group was fortunate enough to select the Gilead center. The Gilead center is a farm that produces calamansi fruits on a regular basis. From then on, the group knew that we'd be doing calamansi juice... no other awesome option came to mind. I know that some groups were able to turn tarps into umbrellas, or used clothes into designer bags... but my group had no intention whatsoever to stretch our minds to any other possibility. We had calamansi fruit and we were going with calamansi juice. All we needed to do next was to create some fake charts that give a presence of an inexistent market. Grade, set, match.

2. Pa-haba sa Papel

Font-size 12 should be font size 12.5
Double spaced should be 2.25
Instead of writing "fruits would be delivered to the distribution channels on a weekly basis", create a massive chart with a textbox containing the word "fruit" and a long and fat arrow from that pointing towards another textbox with the words "delivery channel". Enclose this figure in a giant circle saying "weekly basis". This trick would cover about a paragraph's worth of words.


3. Repeat papers

Alright, so your prof tells you to submit part 4 of your Business Plan, you should most definitely submit part 4!! Even the lazy man isn't stupid enough to miss a requirement. But what he can do is ease the pain of his work. Usually, professors give an inbetween period of three weeks for the submission of business plans. So three weeks after business plan part 3 is business plan part 4. In those three weeks, professors tend to be exposed to a lot of activities and the like. It's a memory jogging. Then at the end of those 3 weeks, they'd return previous passes and ask for the next one. So what we did was instead of submitting Business Plan part 4... we submitted business plan part 2, part 3 and part 4 in a combined output to make our papers look much longer than it actually was and more in-depth than what other groups had done. Since the previous pass had already been returned, it was difficult to see that it was a mere repetition. And with the number of groups and the number of pages to be read, the professor wouldn't care much about what business plan part we wrote about, but the general idea of the group.


4. Ovation Power

This is a very very old trick that came to us when we were second year. Ovation is a program that turns any normal powerpoint into a flash masterpiece. Instead of the usual boring slides, Ovation gives your presentation constant movement in the background and 3D actions. All you need to do is make a blank powerpoint, with nothing but the words and titles on your slides, upload it to Ovation and choose a template. In a matter of minutes, you'd have one of the best powerpoints in class that make you look like you actually put some effort in this report.

The effort done, on behalf of my group, was to meet 30 minutes before the bell rings, make the powerpoint then and there with all the believable bullshit that would come out of our heads, and use Ovation to put some class in our work.

Now we had a powerpoint.

5. Euromonitor for WACs

No matter what people say, you can do a group WAC in less than an hour. If you're that lazy, although we never did it ourselves, you can always copy from other groups. This is where friendship can be a plus.

6. For the Final defense's presentation of the product... just buy the packaging.

This was an accident. A real accident. An hour before our mock-LS126 defense on the Final Business Plan, we failed to produce our Calamansi Concentrate product. So instead of rushing the production, we headed over to the shopwise supermarket and purchased a bottle of C***** F***. The next step was to make the bottle believable. It had to look kinda amateur, but good enough for the panelists. So we diced a couple of mint leaves, threw it into the bottle (to make it look "organically dirty and man-made") and ripped the wrapper off the bottle. And there you have it, a delicious concoccion of a pirated drink.

7. Social enterprise turns sour.

We had a good relationship with the Gilead Center. Friendships, camraderie and love was all around our group and theirs. But when we presented the product to them, we knew that this was not the time and age to run a social enterprise. With all the requirements of senior year, sad to say it'd be too difficult to put every ounce of energy into this. Although we really wanted to, this was neither the right time and age for us.

And Gilead saw that. They knew that we loved them whole-heartedly, but didn't want to commit. Other projects were present out there and even though ours was feasible, it required to much effort from us, and that's why Gilead went into another direction. Which then became a blessing in disguise.

Instead of running a social enterprise, we just had to run a plain old enterprise. We could use our resources and use our capital and work within our own comforts without having to be hassled by communicating with a partner. In the end, we'd all get the same grade, no matter what. So at the end of the day, we got graded for selling shakes (something a little girl can do on her front lawn). We even had a higher return ratio than many other groups.

8. It's all in the presentation

Make sure your group is very charismatic and loveable. "Vividness" according to psychology is important in remembering things. In this case, the teacher will remember the report more than the long ass paper. So make sure that your reporters are pitch-perfect and funny. Like what was said in Gladiator... "Win the crowd".

THIS ARTICLE IS PURELY FICTION.
IT DID NOT ACTUALLY HAPPEN.



...or did it???

Yesterday was my first visit to the Alabang Hills adoration chapel.
Inside, nobody says a word. The enclosed aircon room puts more pressure on everyone to remain silent, as even a pin falling could make an easily heard echo.


And yes, I farted.



Really loud.

Almost there

Friday night didn't turn out as planned.

It was obvious from the get-go that relying on an overnight in Bogie's house will get a group absolutely nowhere. On previous nights, when academic requirements and papers would be on the agenda, we'd do shadow puppets, multiply stalking, Lion King, Disney movies, musicals, backstabbing and pizza of course. When you want to get things done... never overnight.

It's a college cult rule.

The LS127 defense would be the hardest challenge of my finals. And we breezed through it with cram perfection. Our tarps smelled like roach piss, the projector wasn't working, Anton knew absolutely nothing about his slides... and all of this happened 30 minutes before the final defense of our college lives. Yet still, when the entire world was stacked against us (which started happening when we decided to form an all-men group), testosterone prevailed. Men are generally better then women in terms of putting on a show.

It's a college cult rule.

Afterwards... I had some tramway buffet ( a crap little restaurant in Tomas Morato that caters to Classes C-B and produces a nice selection of chinese food at 199 pesos) and then headed over for prom crashing duties.

I will not say what happened afterwards (because I am too cool to share it with you and I know how pa-importante a suspensful blog is).


I'd just like to share that the world would be a nicer place if God gave everyone on earth a "free wish" card. I'd trade 20 years of birthday presents for that shit.

Lovelife talk

The ultimate bonding experience.

Aparently, you really need those fucking guidance tests to graduate.

Which means I have to do four years worth of interviews to get the hell outta this school.

Nice one, Ateneo... can't stand to see me go.

I pray to God that this sudden nightmare of me failing Eco this sem is something I'll laugh about in a month's time. Right now, I'll just let it chew my insides into goo.

chomp chomp chomp...

CS179.11

Dear CS179.11 You are the most pa-importanteng subject in the all time list of electives. I cannot believe that you will have the unquestionable honor of being my last ever class in college this Thursday. 

And that's not all... You schedule your fucking finals a week after all of my other classes. Once the ship has sailed for Eco, LS127, Theo, ITM and Philo... I have to spend 7 more days in school to defend some crappy website I have no intention of making ever again after graduation. 

You couldn't even take being called a mere CS179. You had to add an extra .11 just to make yourself feel better.

-

Reality Bites

To this day, I've never finished the entire screening of "Reality Bites". And I do hope she ended up with Michael, because damn! Do I hate those retarded-hippie-philosophical types like Troy.

To all my profs

It's not like I'm stupid...

I know that you know that I am capable of passing this year.
If I try, there's no way in blue hell that I'm flunking the last days of school.

Three weeks to go...
Vacation's just there..

Why don't you just gimme the diploma and save all of this unecessary trouble?
I'd be home free, looking for a job and on my way to saving this country.
You'd have less work on your hands and still get paid the same shit.

How bout that?
C'mon... I know you guys wanna.

Strangers

Personally?
I find small talk quite awkward.
Except when you do it with your friends of course...
..which then destroys the entire purpose of having small talk.

Catwalk Fashion shows

Maybe they're just trying to make it lively? Maybe they just need a centerpiece? Or maybe they still think that this adds a certain pop-culture vibe to their setting? 

Until today, I do not get why these school (mainly Ateneo) parties have these catwalk fashion shows. I don't know. 

I may be retarded in this not to appreciate the artistry present in a bunch-a pansies walking around in clothes that resemble something you see in Star Wars. Because, frankly, nobody remembers the fashion show. Probably 1% of the turn out will go home talking about what happened on the catwalk. 

Guys would probably remember the modeling in respect to them wanting to see certain models naked in their beds. And even that would be unlikely, as the school budget would only allow you to hire models who are just simply whiter than most people. They're not even that pretty. 

They're just white. 

Forgive me for this rant. I just wasted 250 pesos.