Friday, February 29, 2008

writing lines

Today is a red shirt day but I'm wearing black.


Everybody is in Ayala but I'm in an Internet cafe.


They want GMA to resign but I can't even decide if I'll be taking summer classes or not.


They're changing history but I'm editing my Friendster profile.


They say we're apathetic but I say think again.


We really want to be there, it just happens that we're not.


And I don't know why I'm not.

Tuesday, February 26, 2008


Last night, I was hunched over my Math homework when I realized there was no way I could solve it when my mind was flying somewhere over the Amazon. So I took out my laptop and tried to come up with a story, whatever story, because I always try to write a new one every week. Because nothing came into my head, I ended up writing a poem about this person who was doing his/her algebra homework. And it seemed things would end that way.

Then I was struck by a brilliant, surreal idea and I began to flip through the font types in Microsoft Word, coming up with names for fictional people. Eventually, I came up with a story starring characters with names like Verdana Trebuchet, Serif Marlett, Pristina Corsiva and Perpetua Rockwell. Pretty funny.

I'm still trying to come up with a decent plot. Should be fun :D

Monday, February 18, 2008

A Brief Definition

he·ro [heer-oh]

1.a man of distinguished courage or ability, admired for his brave deeds and noble qualities.

2.a person who, in the opinion of others, has heroic qualities or has performed a heroic act and is regarded as a model or ideal: He was a local hero when he saved the drowning child.

This came up thanks to a certain Mr Raymond G Falgui (otherwise known as Mike) who kept asking his students what they thought of heroism. It so happened that I was one of those in his class, one of those constantly bombarded by questions such as this, perspectival questions, questions that don't have concrete answers. Though I knew I wouldn't get more points for graded recitation, I gave Sir a piece of my mind anyway. And that's what I'm about to offer you, too.

As I told Sir and everybody else who happened to be listening to me, I think heroism isn't about how much money one shelves out to help others. Most people living in the 21st century probably think modern heroes are supposed to manifest heroism through this because the need for men like Hector and Rizal has disappeared ages ago. Personally, I think philantrophy should not be confused with heroism. Some people give a lot to society because they're compassionate and kind and naturally generous.

Still, there are others who go beyond just giving. These people sacrifice. These are individuals who do things they wouldn't do under normal circumstances for the sake of others. And the funny thing is these people aren't extinct at all. They're everywhere. OFW's (especially Domestic Helpers), breadwinners, social workers, etc. What I hate about their being heroes is that they keep thankless jobs. They have become anonymous. But don't they deserve glory? Even a simple show of gratitude will do!

Every day, an average person makes contact with thousands of other humans. Imagine how it would be like if one affected each person he met in a positive way. Then, we would be able to change the world by chaging the way we are.

One need not die to save a life.


Monday, February 11, 2008

A Sunshiny Night

February 8, 2008

4:47 pm

Eating oatmeal

Beloved Nonexistent Reader,

As of the moment, I am crying buckets of tears, and it’s not because my pseudo-boyfriend has left me or because I only fully comprehended the impact of Heath Ledger’s death to my life minutes ago. No, I’m crying because I’m sick. Sick. Sick. Sick. I feel like the poor white mouse we drowned in homemade organic pesticide back in third year. And oh, miserable rodent, I am so sorry for having done that to you. Now I understand.

But sad tales of unfortunate mice aside, last night the girls and I threw a semi-grand debut for our dear friend Sunshine! Similar to the traditional Filipino concept of a girl’s coming-of-age party, Sunshine danced with eighteen gentlemen and listened to the conjured-out-of-thin-air speeches of eighteen of her dearest girl friends. Unlike the traditional debut, however, we served the guests pizza and relied on orange juice for The Toast. Pretty resourceful, methinks.

It truly was a smashing night for all of us present in that celebration but I only hope Sunshine thought it was one of the best nights of her life. It was her night after all. When I thought about it though, the celebration could be seen two ways: from the celebrator’s point of view and from the party organizers’ point of view. Although I’m not very sure what Sunshine thought of last night, I’m quite clear about my purpose for helping set up that party. I only wanted her to have one last night of childhood, a night to remember everything that she was and anticipate everything that she can be. Traditional mindset, true, but it’s only traditional because most people find it sensible.

And now I must take flight because my colds are making it difficult for me to think straight. But I really, really would like to congratulate myself for attending all my classes today – perfect attendance still up and running!

Toodles! Poof…


Tuesday, February 5, 2008

Deadline for Dropping of Subjects

February 4, 2008 – Monday
After having devoured Cheding’s
10:08 pm

Dearest Nonexistent Reader,

Suppose there exists a certain Dr. X, where x = warm smiles that don’t quite reach the eyes and quotes that go, “A professor only remembers the best and the worst in his class; it’s a fact of life.” Suppose that in a certain class of the same professor, there are twenty or more students, most working their way through their final semester, all researching very feverishly tonight in the hopes that what they study now will save them from a failing grade in tomorrow’s exam. Suppose their hopes are in vain and no amount of studying will get them that coveted UNO unless they have the mental capacity to memorize the chemical composition of acid rain. Now suppose I’m in that class.

My hell week has sadly forced its extension. Perhaps this is payback for my not having a hell week during the first half of the AY; maybe my contrapasso for sleeping through all my classes last semester is losing sleep over the mundane thing otherwise known as academic requirements. I want my sleep, and I want it now.

But no, says my conscience, I must stay awake tonight so I can attempt to memorize all the topics rumored to come out in tomorrow’s exam. And guess what? Although all the lessons we’re discussing in class are apocalyptic and morbid, the most horrible thing I’ve heard from it so far is my project partner, the only other freshie in class, threatening to drop the subject if she fails tomorrow’s exam. If she drops it, I’ll be the only first year left!?! Oh goody, I feel like throwing up.

So dearest non-existent reader, do excuse me if I dash off now to my world of PowerPoint presentations filled with the most depressing evidence of the world’s irreversible and upcoming transformation into a) Waterworld, b) a barren wasteland, c) a giant pressure cooker. Do pray I pass this exam.

Toodles! Poof…

P.S. The basement boys, represented by Kuya Xavier, apologized for apparently making us feel bad about the whole Sports Fest issue. It’s so sweet! Thank you, guys.

Sunday, February 3, 2008

The Four Dragons

February 2, 2008
Finished invites for Sunshine’s debut
5:26 pm

Dearest Nonexistent Reader,

Have you seen any Fushigi Yuugi? It’s a libidinous anime that used to air on GMA7 when people my age were in elementary. My room mate, Pau, watched the whole season a couple of months ago, and thanks to that rerun, my memories of Miaka Yuki’s adventures in The Book were refreshed. Strange, but I actually found myself touched by the ending, despite its predictability.

If you have seen the show, you will know that the plot basically revolves around a glutton named Miaka, who must summon the great dragon guardian Suzaku to save the people of her ancient land. The conflict arises in the form of other tribes who attempt to summon their own guardian dragons before Miaka does so they can crush her people. In the story, there are four dragons (whose names I’ve unfortunately forgotten) who control the elements. Think red, blue, yellow, green.

Correct me if I’m wrong but I think the whole plot of Fushigi Yuugi was inspired by the Chinese legend about the Four Dragons who ruled over the earth once upon a time. It was probably the same legend that inspired the Sports Committee of my dorm to come up with team names like Fukanlong, Tienlong, Jiaolong and Shenlong. Oh, and the segregation comes in red, blue, yellow and green, too!

The reason for the division was the Sports Fest, which ended just last Wednesday. The four teams competed against each other in different events, garnering points every time they won. Initially, the whole thing was a truly enjoyable experience; most people had a grand time cheering for their athletes and wearing team colors to show their support. By the end of the Men’s Volleyball Finals, however, the tide turned and suddenly the purpose of the Sports Fest, which was to help the dormers meet more of their neighbors, was defeated.

It’s a complicated tale to tell, mainly because I cannot divulge the rumors that have been spreading like wildfire in our corridors lately. For those who know about the issue, however, the following paragraphs contain my take on it.

I speak not for the whole of Fukanlong but as an ordinary resident of the First Floor Girls. I do not know all the ugly details that lead to the division of the Kalai community, but I am positive that not everything that’s circulating is true. If at the Men’s Volleyball Finals that single crucial point was given to the wrong side, the game should have been paused to make way for a proper deliberation of whether that ball was IN or OUT. The whole issue should have ended that night.

But as we all know, animosity eats its way into even the most solid relationships. Now some are secretly nursing grudges against others, and these locked emotions sometimes surface in not-so-pretty manifestations.

I don’t like it. I don’t like being hated. I don’t want my floor to be the ganged on, especially because there’s no reason for us to be treated like something yucky on the tip of one’s shoe. During the Palarong Pinoy, people didn’t think much of us because we ranked low overall. Now, some people still don’t like us. Is it because we WON?

A text message goes:

Never explain yourself to anyone
The person who likes you doesn’t need it
And the person who doesn’t like you won’t believe it

How true.

Toodles, Poof!