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Archive for June, 2008

Today we say our goodbyes…

.. to a wonderful soul who was lost, but was later on been found. she was never the one to fall in love with at first sight, and many of us are guilty of ignoring her for a significant amount of time. until that one fateful day, when she touched you, and made you remember her in a way that you can never remember anyone else as much.

she moved with the moves of a fool most of the time, but it is with great irony that she had built all of her relationships based on the innate wisdom within her. most of us had once confided in her, and despite her seemingly callous words, she bravely wielded her sword at anyone who have come to conquer us. she had created friendships with bonds stronger than that of a good family, and she uncompromisingly defended her own with the vigour of a wounded soldier.

trust has always been her weakest point, yet at the face of the biggest trial of my life, when nobody else would, i found her by my side, striving to give me the trust that i so badly needed. nobody could ever crucify her for the doubts she ever had, the world has owed her that much. but during the toughest times when it mattered the most, she had always been there to urge us on.

when she demanded that i deliver her eulogy, she threatened me against being so dramatic and to just give you all a tongue-in-cheek account of our friendship. she’s never the one to crave a ‘hero’ status. she just wanted to be happy, and wanted to get everybody else aboard her happy train. when she realised her happy train cannot accomodate everybody, she started constructing one that will fit everyone. she might not have succeeded, but she told me she’s happy to die trying.

she loved the arts, and if there was one regret that she carried in her heart, that was all the art that she will not be able to experience once she’s gone. beauty has always been her forte. she saw beauty in almost anything, and where she couldnt see, she created it. candid and feeling, she allowed herself to be lost in a stream where beauty and reality were the dominant elements.

and she loved. with all her heart, all her being and all that she possessed. she gave her all to this short and beautiful life, and she has gone not with a single ounce of remorse. she told me to tell all of you to remember her while she rests, as she gathers her strength that will let her carry on building the happy train that can carry us all.

Grace, you will truly be missed.

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material girl

i semi-caught a talk show this morning while i was doing my nails, where the topic was how the guests (mostly american moms) have managed to bankrupt their families for their unforgivable materialism. shopping all day, every damn day ang drama ng mga lola. since the subject is, like, so passe, i just went on coloring my nails bright red (which are now perfectly ruined by the damned gloves i wore in ski dubai. thats two hours of hard work wasted) while half listening to the nondescript blabber. i was on to my right pinky when i got a whiff of the the ‘expert’ saying: ‘you have equated your life with the things you own and the things you want to own’. and i thought, because im shallow and bored: what if my life was to be defined by my material possesions? how much would i be worth?

i have decided to walk back along memory lane and appraise the worldy possessions that my materialistic self prides itself upon. These are the things that represent various phases that sum up the entirety of my over two decades of existence. (Prices are approximated.)

1. my original but plain-clothed Barbie doll – dressed in a simple pink ensemble, my very first barbie doll was the only one i had. i wanted to kill my sister coz she got the one with the wedding dress. ahh, the days of murderous sibling rivalry. Price: more of less Php 200

2.my half calf leather boots – which i wore to school despite the brain-frying 34 degrees temp at the grounds of Silang West Elementary School. it was fashionable back in the days, and damn if the primafashionista will be left out. Price: MOL Php 300

3. my Kickers shoes – which were the most coveted brand of shoes in Cavite Institute nung highschool ako. the screaming red and green tags were worn with a hint of pride by an elite group of kids who can afford the Php 1500-a-pair footwear, which, looking back, were totally, undescribably tacky. but, hey, we were in highschool, and what did we know? Price: Php 1500

4. my first cellphone – a Nokia, the exact model i cant remember. the one that looks like a 5110, but with 2 additional buttons. maraming nabuong relasyon dahil sa teleponong iyon. Price:Php 3500

5. my first laptop, a humongous COMPAQ – which served a mighty purpose for my thesis. and other learning experiences that come with growing up and discovering things (read: porn) Price: Php 50,000

6. my first car, a 2005 mitsubishi lancer – which boldly took me where no man has ever gone before. wahehehehe. it also took me to my old elementary school where i used to pick up my two youngest sibs and to the local mall where i dutifully take my mom every single day. Price: roughly Php 800,000

7. my red luggage – with which i took all my worldly possessions to Dubai where I am now. Price: Php 2000

8. my current phone and my current laptop – a nokia N80 and another COMPAQ – without which i will probably still be unemployed or have flown back to the republik of the pinas. Price: phone – Php 13000, laptop – Php 80 k

9. my Prada sunglasses – kasi wala lang, i love it. AED 900 / Php 9000 (discounted price)

TOTAL: Aproximately Php 959,500

whoa. mura lang pala ako, wala pang isang milyon. hehe.

buti na lang, in all corniness and truthfulness, tama si talk show ‘expert’. you are not defined by the material things you own. or else we will all just be equal to a dime in a piggy bank the size of the entire planet. if thats the case, what a horribly cheap place this Earth must be.

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Last night I..

Last night I
Met a guy from Multiply.
Well, he’s not really from multiply
Or he’ll not be a guy

Anyways,
this guy I met from multiply
is not really shy.
He told me lotsa of stories
He even told me his love stories
Stories because there are many
And not all of them are happy.

He’s funny and he’s gay
Gay meaning homosexual or so he says
But I don’t believe this even for a bit
Not just because he wears a pink watch and shit.

He’s a born again Christian
I know because he’s got a tattoo that says ‘Born Again Christian’
If you ask me if its his religion or its just a name of a girl
I say it’s a pretty long name for a girl
So I think its his religion. Or a name of a rock band.

He’s got an easy laugh, it sounds like a hippopotamus giving birth
He said he goes to the gym to decrease his girth
He said he’s quitting smoking but still socially smokes
I said ‘you prolly been smoking the wrong kind of smoke’.

So he said a lot while I basically shut up
Coz I was busy devising a plan to take down his collar standing up.
But overall it was a nice night
I just wish we had a chance to steal something from the restaurant. Or the Apple store.
And it would have been a perfect night.

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Flight of the Conchords

I’m smitten by New Zealand’s fourth most popular digi-folk parodists!

You gotta hear it to believe it. Absofuckinglute geniuses, these two.

All i can say is..

Foux du fafa.. foux du fafafafaa..foux du fafa.. aaeeya.:D

Random Thoughts while procrastinating

1. my tummy hurts. i love cheese and tomatoes on whole wheat bread in the morning but they murder ng stomach walls. and i dont like suppressing my gas. anyways, have you guys heard of this theory that when you dont let you gas escape from your bottom orifice, it has no other recourse but to escape from your upper orifice (meaning: mouth). i actually believed that shit for a while.

2. while waiting for my bus yesterday, an idea hit me. and it will hit you too. soon. 😀

3. i just finished ‘The Road’ by Cormac McCarthy. I intended to share with you guys my favorite excerpts, but im too lazy. anyways, i found out just now that their making it into a movie starring viggo mortensen (my favourite) and charlize theron, and its due for release this november. i hope the screenplay stays close to the book. its so beautifully tragic.

4. its just the middle of the month and im broke already. its not that im mismanaging my finances, there’s just a lot of things that have to be settled. entirely not my fault. like my driving class enrolment fees, my new shades (protection against the harmful sun. very important), and a fishing rod (to catch fish for ulam. also very important ).

5. Im proud to announce that as of three weeks ago, i am regularly taking the bus going home. thats dhs.17 savings compared to taking a cab everyday. i try to think of this fact to keep my depression at bay. with my trusty ipod and a good book, two hours just seem to fly by. (of course the fact that taking a cab will reduce my travel time to 30 minutes is a thought that just keeps popping up, but my strong will power is my friend).

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Good enough for me

I have a normal relationship with my father. I say normal, because most of my friends, according to their own relatioship with their fathers, can be grouped into two: those who maintain a really tight bond with their dads, and those who detest their old man to the core. I say normal coz you see, me and my papa dont talk, but we dont hate each other either.

I dont speak of my father that much.Guess its sort of a bad conversation topic for me. either i end up depressed, or depressed and crying. j has been the sorry audience to my few attempts to equate  my feelings towards my papa with words. one thing im gonna tell you, my father is no saint.

no, he’s not the abusive type.but im not gonna say he didnt hurt us, as a matter of fact, he hurt us in the most damaging ways. every scowl, every disapproving glance and piercing look, every derogatory remark in front of other prople – every single one left a mark. i guess the most painful thing that i have to endure with him is the feeling that i can never be too sure that he’ll back me up, when faced with a choice between me (or any of us siblings or my mom) and his relatives. thats when i feel like screaming to his face. i want to let him know how we could never pick other people over him.

I love my mama more than my papa. that’s just the truth that i have have to admit. i think my papa knows that. i remember once he accused my mama of brainwahsing us into hating him. after my mom told me this, i just chuckled and said to my mom, ‘well, you dont even have to’.

thing is, i dont hate my father. i never have. even as a child, when i was too young to understand the concept of love and all the feeling i had for him was fear, i can never say that i hated him. he’s been a great provider to us, and eventhough his money can never replace the years that have gone by spent in awkward silences and polite nods of acknowledgment, i take comfort in the fact that he believed, in his hearts of heart, that it was the right way to go.

we are 11 in the family. i have four brothers, three sisters, my folks, and my dog. i am the only one supporting myself, and everyone is in the care of my papa. i can even dare say that my siblings are spoilt rotten as far as material wants are concerned. all that out of a government employee’s salary, and good old diskarte. i admire my father for single-handedly raising his family in a decent way. my father may be madiskarte, but he’s also been stupid a lot of times. duped a lot of times. fucked over a lot of times, often by his own family.yes, there have been bad times, times when even food had become an issue. but my father has triumphed over all these to give us the comfortable life that we live now.

i have come to terms with the fact that he’s built that way. even he himself is not close to my lolo and  lola. funny, but my father is just like an angsty teenager who is simply uncomfortable with the thought of mushyness. i remember, when i was little, i used to read until late at night, and i catch my dad checking up on all of us, opening every room just like in the movies, doing a head count, i suppose. maybe its a defense mechanism, to what, i dont know. but that’s just the way he is. since i went abroad, whenever we ‘talk’ on the phone, the extent of our conversation ranges from his ‘kumusta ka?’ to my ‘ok lang’, to his ‘kumusta ka’ again and ‘o eto na si mama’ as he passes the phone to my mom. i have long since gotten over this to mistake it for nonchalance. years have taught me that its just the way he is.

i have grown to appreciate him, but i think among us siblings, me and my older sister are the only ones to really understand where he is right now. there was a day when we were having a good time and a few laughs, and then my dad walked in, the party just broke up and everybody went up to their rooms. i wanted to call  everyone back, say its all right, its just papa. but i guess in due time they will also understand what i have then recently came to understand about our old man.

i guess what saddens me about my relationship with my papa right now is that i cant seem to reach him, he’s built a wall that is further aggravated by the distance between us. there’s no use in crying over the years, but i am worrying over the seconds that are passing now that i am mushy enough to tell him i love him, to kiss his cheeks and hug him. fuck, this is making me cry now. because i dont want this to be too late. i dont want to be too late.

when i get home by december, i’ll try my best to reach out to him. i just hope he’s ready. just extend your hands papa, i’ll do all the rest. i also hope that by then, i will have the courage to tell you this: you may not have been the best father, but i know you tried the best way you knew how. and that’s good enough for me.

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24 sure got me

i had a dream. bio warfare caught the world like a new fad, and all sorts of viruses plague the country like people do a mall opening.

and like gael in that episode where the crystalized virus was directly blown to his face, i got the virus too. somehow, it wasnt airborne, but is contagious upon contact. and i knew i was gonna die later that day.

i had a day to say goodbye. but that wasnt what i was thinking then. i cannot accept the fact that i was dying. i spent half of my remaining hours crying. asking why. convincing myself that this is just a dream.

i seek my family. i was looking for j. not to say goodbye, but to plead for help. and i almost forgot i was contagious. i saw him but he didnt want to be near me. as i was trying to grab him by his arm, his eyes were screaming with alarm, and tried desperately to get way without even the the slightest pretense of concern. of course he didnt want to get infected. of course i didnt want to infect him and my family. so i decided to stay where i was. and wait for the inevitable.

i woke up before i died, but the feeling of betrayal failed to elude me. i was alone, and it was all too real.

i should quit watching too much TV.

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