Fishy Publications

A Cat's Eulogy

2011-12-01T01:21:00.000-08:00

He was carelessly tied to a barbeque stand in the midst of one of those fierce monsoons that usually hit our country midyear. The rope was tied so tight, he can barely move his neck, but meow he did, and this, he did with all his little cat heart. This was how my sister found him, soaking wet and freezing, barely able to stand, as he was just a wee kitten –how could anyone be so cruel as to subject such a small, unsuspecting creature to such a horrid, heartless condition? So my sister took him, cut his rope and wrapped him with her jacket, bundled him into her bag and brought him home.

When Oliver arrived at our house, he was a scrawny, smelly thing, barely out of drinking from his catmom’s tit. He had such large eyes for his diminutive body that they were the only features that were prevalent in his half-starved state, that and his protruding ribs. It was obvious that he wasn’t fed much and coupled with almost freezing to death; he looked like he wouldn’t make it, but we took him in anyway. However, despite and inspite of being in such a sorry state, upon arriving at our house, he looked about with such wonder with his large cat- stare that it was difficult to believe he didn’t have it in him to get better – bear in mind that this was a kitten who called attention to himself by mewling as loud as he can, through the howling winds of a Baguio Monsoon (if you’ve ever experienced typhoon season in Baguio, you’d know what I am talking about).

Oliver grew up to be a *excuse the cliché* very good cat. He was sweet and always liked being carried around and petted, unlike some of our other cats who preferred to be left alone. He wasn’t a choosy eater, and luckily, he wasn’t prone to disease either. In short, he was a perfect cat. I guess it was because we loved and showered him with so much attention that he flourished in his new surroundings. His coat was silky and shiny, and believe it or not, he grew to be the size of a small dog (which is actually big for a cat). His best feature really were his eyes, they were large green and lined with black that one could almost suspect he (and a cat at that!) applied eyeliner everyday (“catliner”, what a concept!). My younger sister’s classmates would always gasp in surprise when what they thought of as a stuffed toy would suddenly move and rub against their feet, asking in his cat-way to be carried and petted.

When I moved to Manila, Oliver would always be one of the reasons I’d look forward going home to. Whenever I’d step inside the gate, he’d always come to my arms, like I’ve never even left.

This is the first Christmas we’re going to spend at home without Oliver sitting on our sofa. Recently, he was diagnosed with cancer. Yes, cats get cancer too. It started to manifest as a little wound on his nose, nothing to be worried about initially. Cats get wounds all the time – especially if they were male and weren’t spayed, they’d have “alpha fights” and in a few days, the wound would scab over and heal. When the wound didn’t show signs of the usual healing, my older sister went to the vet and got some antibiotics so we could medicate him even from home. However, Oliver’s wound didn’t get better. Instead, it got worse. My sisters and I all live away from home so we had to hear of Oliver’s condition from our parents. The antibiotics weren’t doing anything to improve Oliver’s condition. Finally, Mom and Dad brought him to the vet and our worst fears were confirmed. There was a tumor growing on Oliver’s head and it got so bad that his eyes, throat and whole face were already affected. He couldn’t even eat solids anymore. So we had to make a difficult decision. Oliver was in so much pain, the only thing for him was to be put asleep. I wasn’t there when it happened. I heard Mom say it over the phone. I was on my way to the bank, and I suppose I looked like a total fool but I wasn’t able to hold back the tears. I/we, have lost a great, good friend who stayed with us for 8 wonderful years and I wouldn’t weep any less for him than I would for any of my human friends. He was a part of our family. Dad buried him behind our house; he wouldn’t leave him at the vet’s to be disposed of. I guess any pet owner could relate. Our pets are more than just animals – they are our childhood, they are we, sans all the complexities it takes to be human - our simple joys and the shoulders offered anytime to be cried on. They are our music, our bossom buddies. They are our prayers to God and the answers as well. They are our pets, but somehow, they are more than that.

I know Oliver led a good life. We gave him the best we could. Somehow I know he’s in a better place now but that doesn’t stop me from grieving. There’s just no getting over a good pet, harder still to let go of a great friend. We’ll miss you Oliver, goodbye.

Oh Shoot!

2011-11-23T01:41:00.000-08:00

My colleagues (Bleps Dapo and Mark Ngo) and I wanted to start a creative endeavor outside of the usual in/output we shell out at work. So we started a project that we're hoping would not only satisfy our current creative lust, but will eventually become a much larger avenue for us to utilize our shared love for photography and art.

Hence, we started a project called "The FreeNup". We're calling it FREEnup because for now, we shoot prenups for free. We decided to shoot for free since we're still building our portfolio, that and we also needed initial blog content under our names. The only conditions are, couples we photograph for free should provide the accommodation, food and transportation during shoot days - not a bad deal, when you think about it.

Anyway, I just wanted to share our tumblr account and some sample shots, in case you guys can help us out in our little creative undertaking. :D

http://magshoota.tumblr.com/

Run

2011-10-24T05:11:00.000-07:00

I’ve started running again. This time, I’m not running to impress somebody, I’m running because it’s become a sort of therapy. I’m badly in need of a diversion to get my mind off things.

I run because even though I’m not really sure where I want to go, I eventually get somewhere. I run because I want to get away from everything and everyone, most of all, myself. I want to leave my thoughts and all my neuroses behind, I want to be someone, anyone else, because at this point in life, being me is the farthest from what I want to be right now. Unlike hiding, the physical effort exerted to get my limbs moving, my heart beating, helps numb my brain - so my worries can dissipate and all the voices in my head are muted into a tolerable din. I run because i haven’t been doing anything for myself anymore. I don’t take photographs, I don’t draw, I don’t write songs, I don’t perform, I don’t make videos; I've become a drawn-out, colorless semblance of a person, I've become a zombie. It’s like I’ve lost a part of myself that I wasn’t even aware I had, until it all went away. Maybe running is like trying to find the “me” I have displaced. I run so I can feel the wind on my skin. I run to move. I run to feel alive.

Most of all, I do it because in this state of chaos, running is the only thing I have control over and that gives me a sense of relief. I control when I stop, I choose my direction, I know how much distance I could cover and in time, I’ll know both my limits and more importantly, the parameters I could challenge and jump over.

Maybe this won’t amount to anything, but right now, I am badly in need of something that will help me get over this current depression. Maybe running is just a manifestation of my being scared OR of dealing with being scared, I don’t really know nor care much anymore.

The Pessimist in me is insisting that running is my expression of moving away from all the things I am incapable of handling, but somehow, amidst all the discord in my head, I can still hear a tiny voice whispering that maybe, just maybe, it can also be the other way around. Maybe running is my way of facing all my fears and plunging into them in a headlong rush, with the awareness that at least I’m doing it MY way. I hope with all my heart that it's the latter.

ang hiling

2011-05-17T10:13:00.001-07:00

sana minsan, kahit isang gabi lang, magagawan ng paraan ang mga imposible at di sila ganoon kahirap makamit, maranasan mo lang kung pano maging ako. sana maramdaman mo rin ito.

the eater

2011-05-08T05:37:00.002-07:00

there's a monster inside me. it's growing and taking over. it hates laughter as it considers it noise. it mutters and complains all the time about everything. it's grumpy and does not relish change. it spends its time looking for flaws, even if there are none. it hates being contradicted and thinks of itself as the ultimate authority on just about anything.
i am dying, my sense of self being consumed by this vicious thing that is old age - and it doesn't look like i'm gonna get better. i don't want this to happen, my being so angry and isolated all the time. i don't want to be every party's spoilsport and resident downer.i want my youth back. i want what it feels like to be full of wonder and laughter and fun to come back. i want to remember how it is to be laidback and just simply be happy.
please, someone help me.

Huwag raw pero hindi naman ayaw.

2011-04-12T05:53:00.000-07:00

hinahanap kita madalas pero alam ko naman kung nasaan ka.
mejo nakakapagod lang itong walang-humpay na pagnanasa.
kahit na alam ko, isang panig lang itong tulirong pag-ibig,
hindi naman ako umaasa na ito'y masuklian.

'Di ba, ganyan naman dapat talaga?

ang pag-ibig, kahit walang hinihinging kapalit,

ay nananatiling matatag at di nagsasawa.

gusto kita kahit di ka mapapasaakin.
nais kita kahit na walang pag-asa.

ang hirap naman ng mahumaling.

The thing with no name.

2011-04-12T03:19:00.000-07:00

It's this great emptiness in my chest. a compulsion that buzzes in my head till i can not tell the difference between it and temptation.
It's an addiction that persists, as well as a high that I feed on.
It is a longing I can not ignore and one of these days, I'm afraid will be hard put to deny.

So this is how it feels like to miss you.

Another Metaphor at 1:35am

2011-03-16T10:19:00.000-07:00

All that comes from waiting, not trying and being too afraid to risk.

There was once this heart that kept its affections within a box.

Neither hide nor hair can be seen from those enclosed, so tight was the box locked.

The heart thought that the affections, safe and preserved within the vacuum would neither decay nor wither, so it kept the box under lock and key, summer after summer.

So foolish was the heart that day after day, year after year, kept all that passion under control, imprisoned within that tiny box till the summer turned into winter, after winter after winter.

But then the time finally came that the heart, weary of keeping its little secrets under constant and vigilant guard, finally decided to let free those little affections that long ago so clamored and raged to be released.

As the box, stands silent and still, the heart, scratched its puzzled and grizzled face because it could no longer hear and feel those tiny flutters of love, hate, like, anger and happiness, all within the small, cramped space.

And when the heart turned the key for release, bated its breath and waited as the lid was lifted, all that came out, all that could come out, was nothing. Not even a trace of what was once there.

2011-01-18T04:57:00.000-08:00

there's this tingling feeling deep inside my chest and i just can't seem to keep my feet on the floor. i'm floating. i think i know the reason why.

On Top Of My Head

2010-10-09T15:02:00.000-07:00

I want to go back to:
high school and play volleyball every break. including dismissal.

I am weirded out by:
socks that have toes

I am glad that:
today i read about grapefruit being the 20th century name of what was once known as pomelo in the 17th.

I want to:
smell the night air in baguio especially since it's already October

I need to:
sort out how to get out of my current slump of a life

I am willing to:
give up my current career in exchange for the ideal one

I understand:
the risks

I wish I:
had the money to treat my parents to a grand vacation

I think I:
will be able to do that once I do land my ideal job (cause that "ideal" includes a very high salary)

I:
may lose my way but since I hope, hussle and pray everyday, I do not worry too much because

I believe that:
God provides

the cliff

2010-08-14T12:23:00.000-07:00

this i think, is what i fear the most. i'm standing on the edge of this awful yawning emptiness and i'm not even sure if i want to stand away from it. this chasm's so black i can't even see my hands in front of me. i'm holding them in front of my face, wondering if the dark is seeping into me. i'm not even alarmed.

The Walking Dead

2010-07-22T09:00:00.000-07:00

You’ve been in my head for a while now. This makes me think of so many crazy possibilities I can’t just shove off – so it worries me.

it's a constant struggle, this trying to rid my mind of you. because those sneaky possibilities make me think of all kinds of what can be's - and that makes it so tempting not to pursue them. thankfully, my innate survival instinct has taken over just in time because it's obvious i'm headed towards something disastrous. Hence, i have halted my steps toward these new possibilities, because it has dawned on me that wanting you doesn't necessarily mean I'll risk being with you.

What I want most in the world right now - to be with you, might just overwhelm us with so many repercussions and I fear you will have to bear the brunt of it. It's a thought i cannot tolerate. So you see, i'm only doing what i think is best for you - for me to stay far away.

Though I know this is like a dream, and a good one at that, still, it's something that won't ever amount to anything concrete.

I'm going to turn away with nary a word 'cause I think being vague is best - the truth is just going to lead us to more twists and complications that might inflict more damage to this already screwed-up situation.

I wish you won't think less of me for turning away.

I know it's even gonna seem like i never did love you.

But if you knew me at all, you'd know that on the contrary, I do.

I love you so much that I'm giving up, giving you up.

Maybe someday I can tell you why, but definitely, not now.

No Barriers

2009-12-13T08:42:00.002-08:00

sometimes, we think that walls are prisons simply because we cannot find a way to get out. that doesn't mean that there aren't any exits, we just haven't found them yet.

do not be cowed into thinking that you will be defeated. if you do, you will only make your imagined cage all the more stronger and daunting. this type of thinking just tricks you into not trying anyway - so you've lost the battle before it has even started.

walls can be beaten. climb over it, punch through - and if it still doesn't work, find something or someone to help you till you become strong enough to get out. find inspiration, look for a mentor, PRAY - these work as well as, if not better than the most heavy-duty jackhammer in the world. do not let yourself lose faith because it helps when you have something to look forward and hold on to - it makes you all the more determined to push through.
do not let your ideas, your creativity, your sense of SELF dissipate by waiting too long, not trying hard enough or giving up. your time WILL come. this is as sure as the sun rises the next day.

i write this entry not only for you, reader, but for myself as well - because i too, fall victim to despair as easily as the next chap.
i write this entry to remind myself that my mind and my heart are too strong to be defeated by fears - simulated and real - because i am the kind of person that has too much LIFE to share to this world, and it would be a shame if i haven't given EVERYTHING i had in this glorious struggle.

the year-end looms ever nearer. i will wipe everything unclean from my slate. no more bitterness, no more shame, no more doubts - and if these can't be avoided, i will try to limit them as much as i could or at least, let them be fleeting so that they won't taint my soul.
this is my form of invictus and i wish these words gladden your souls, as they do mine.

these walls may seem like a prison, but they are not. nothing can contain me, or you, not if we don't let it.

one of my photos, taken from our office building's roof, one glorious afternoon.

The Last Tremor Felt

2009-09-22T00:40:00.000-07:00

It’s official. This heart has all but been bled out and is nearing its end.
I should’ve recognized the symptoms- chest pains, shortness of breath and unpredictable attacks of dizziness. Too late I learned, this condition has passed the stage where it could’ve been treated.
The doctor gave me the results from the x-rays and the other varied tests the other day and we were left astounded after what was found out.
At first glance, my heart was ok. It was only by looking through a lens that we discerned the visible symptoms of its failure. Minute, myriad cracks ran through the muscle. The exterior has degenerated into a papery, fragile texture, causing some of it to peel away and crumble into dust.
It seems too that my heart has shrunk from the normal size (I think this explains my apathetic behavior for the past months now), causing it to lag and bounce about like an abandoned, fallen kite, with its string entangled on a high, dead branch.
Observations also show that parts of my heart have been chipped off, some small areas looking like the pieces were carefully excised, though more prevalent were areas looking like chunks have been forcibly torn out by a monstrous beast.
However, I think I know the possible cause of these missing pieces (and it somewhat beleaguers me that i should probably admit this to the doctor). I have been giving away parts of my heart over the years, most of which I optimistically lent out on loan and wanted to get back twofold. Unfortunately, most people don’t seem to value paying loans nowadays that needless to say, forced my heart-giving venture into bankruptcy.
The bigger chunks though, now those were different. Those were given freely and without hope of getting them back. Why? Suffice it to say that all hearts or at least parts of it, are irrevocably meant to be given away to someone special, at one time or another. In my case, there were a lot of "someone specials" (and still are) so that explains away the large bulk of heart pieces missing.

I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised by the diagnosis, really. Truth be told, I had it coming. Anyone who didn’t value hearts as much as I did are doomed to this fate.
Even as I write this memoir, I can feel my heart shudder with the last vestiges of effort.
It’s only a matter of time now.

Much Is Unsaid

2009-09-21T04:02:00.000-07:00

I look back at my life right now and I'm not sure if I’m happy with what I see. I don’t know if I achieved all I’ve set out to get nor do I know if I’ve lived the way one’s supposed to. All I know is that right now, I am stuck in a crossroads and I can’t move on or choose a path because I am laden with uncertainties on where to go next and insecurities about taking on the new hurdles of life. I haven’t always been like this. I know I used to be light in spirit and disposition and something this trivial wouldn’t have bothered me any.
Anyway, that’s all moot now because the thing is, I am in this dismal reality and it seems I’m stuck here or worst, have been stuck here for the longest time and I’ve just noticed, now that my feet won’t move since they’re sinking in quicksand.
Is this despair even normal? I have lost all semblance of fighting and I’m being pummeled into pulp by circumstance, inability and hopelessness.
Is this what’s fated for me? I shake my head and wonder when my life has reached its peak because I don’t think it ever did. And when I do recall a specific goal achieved, place traveled or persons met, somehow those memories just seem petty and washed out.
Lord, I don’t want to keep on living like this. I am neither a drone nor a shadow but it’s just so hard keeping my head up. I want to view the world as I did, when I was but an exuberant youth. I need to witness something with wonder again. I need your help. Please show me there’s something more than this bland, bleak excuse of a life.

25 Random Things About Me

2009-05-02T21:44:00.000-07:00

I've been Tagged!

IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER (might be rambling a bit too)

1. I have a “thing” about mint chocolate ice cream. I think it’s the best flavor in the ice cream world. I’ve always wondered why local brands don’t have this as a regular flavor. But then again I’d be reduced to hopeless destitution if they did.

2. I can emulate a lot of accents. Here’s the list:
a. British –
- regency/upper-crust brit
- street/slang brit
- hybrid brit with brogue mixed in – watch Billy Elliot to get an idea.
- Tagalog and Ilocano - Yep, you read right, I can speak Tagalog and Ilocano with a british accent.

b. Brogues –
- Scot (me and my buddy Jonathan Benito even write testimonials for each other in simulated Scottish)
- Irish (has been permanently ruined when I acquired the Indian accent though)

c. Indian – I can do indian – both genders. Yep, the lilt’s different ‘tween genders.

d. American –
- Neutral – American - accent that can be pinned down to any state in the US (usually this is the accent that call centers try to achieve in their agents)
- Texan Southern Drawl – having spoken to them for what felt like eternity in one of my past jobs, I can manipulate my tongue so my words come out sounding like I’ve been chewing gum for the last 20years (and the same gum at that). However, my best southern usually comes in the guise of the irate African-american woman (luv ito nina She and Lala). Also on this list are – Stetson –wearing cowboy, African-american man, single southern lass, white married Texan woman and Hispanic (chicano, not the castellano espanyol). Ask me about this sometime so I can let you hear the difference.

e. English – these are just inflections so I listed ‘em separately
- French-english – Hank azaria’s character in Along Comes Polly – “Ze Hippoh”
- Italian-English – Those who’ve watched The Godfather movies know how this one sounds. It’s easy to acquire, really, just try choking yourself for 5 minutes or so and your voice comes out all raspy and Mafia-y
- Russian – English – I vanna be dancer. OR… Lucy Lawless’s character in Eurotrip. Luv the “VANDERRSEX” scene. ‘nuff said.
- Bimbo-English – is this even an accent? Nope. But I sure can do it. Me ‘n Paris Hilton are, like, BFFs.
- Surfer-dude – best example I can give you with this voice is Crush the turtle from Finding Nemo.

That’s it I think. I’m working on asian accents now so the list is gonna get longer.

3. I’ve been collecting books since I was 13. My genre’s Fantasy (leaning towards Robert Jordan’s writing, never was one for Tolkien’s flowery style)/ S&S/SF and a spattering of other types of fiction. Lately, I’ve been worrying about space since my books just overflowed the latest book shelf I got as a present (o, nagpaparinig na… perfect gift for me – BOOKSHELF)

4. I collect DVDs. Pirated naman. I’m a movie buff. I can watch beloved movies 10x and still bawl at the “cry-here-and-insert-chees

y-music” parts. Been really delirious with happiness lately since I found two of the 3 great Robert Downey Jr. Chick flicks, Only You (with M. Tomei) and Heart and Souls (with E. Shue). Kulang na lang yung Chances Are (with M. Stuart Masterson)

5. I’m a volleyball addict. If a sport can become one’s significant other, volleyball’s the one for me.

6. I’m a cat person. I once gave up the chance to watch the FIVB Manila leg with once-in-a-lifetime contingent Italy, Croatia and Brazil (meaning legends Mauri Cacciatori, Ceska Piccinini, Paola Paggi, Barbara Jelic and Leila Barros were playing) because Gilbert our cat needed a pelvic bone-knitting operation when a reckless jeepney driver ran him over. On this note, I pet street cats, even weird –looking ones, almost always to the chagrin of my friends (oo, kayo yun, Abdel at Patoy)

7. I have wanderlust.

8. I take pictures.

9. I am obsessive. It takes years for me to get over something. Or someone. I can have LSS for 2weeks. And yes, because I’m obsessive, I hold grudges.

10. I HATE CIGARETTE SMOKE! I ABHOR IT! I LOATHE IT! Cig smoke brings out the unreasoning Hyde in me, so it is not unusual when I get physically violent (yep, there are different types of violent, minsan kasi virtual lang) with a smoker. I specifically hate how Reds smell.

11. I’ve always been mesmerized by large bodies of water, particularly, seas. I love the smell, the sounds and everything associated with them. Unfortunately, I am an Earth sign and I’m totally clumsy in water. Fact is, I’ve almost always had an episode of near-drowning every time my family visited the beaches when I was small. I still don’t know how to swim to this day but that doesn’t stop me from visiting a beach every chance I get. As far as I can tell though, it’s not the beach-bum type of adoration. I just love to be near the water. Maybe I’m afflicted with one of those syndromes that make you long for what you can’t have, or in this case, what you can’t conquer.

12. I’m a musician.

13. I love to tinker. Unfortunately, this was the reason why most of my toys didn’t last long when I was a kid. I’d take ‘em apart and mix other parts from other toys. Recently however, I have successfully combined parts from 3 busted generic DVD players into one working unit (hooray, pede na kong mag-electrician). I’m also my apartment’s resident plumber.

14. Unlike most in this generation, I still believe in Ghosts, UFO’s and the Fey - and I’ve got photos I took to prove they’re real too (though some might say otherwise)

15. I miss running. I miss Salcedo park. I quit my routine when I got seriously sick cause my body couldn’t take it. I’m fervently hoping I can run again someday.

16. Favorite time of the day – 3-5pm. For me, this beats sunsets/sunrises. I specially love sunny, windy afternoons when everything looks blue and gilded.

17. Orange is my favorite color. It’s gratifying how a large number of my friends know this kasi I barely have Orange-colored clothes or belongings.

18. I’m clairvoyant. Totoo yan, wag magduda.

19. I hate Beer. I hate the smell, I hate the taste. But I still drink it anyway, pag walang choice.

20. I love to eat. I consider food as one of the best things in being alive (besides the more practical reason of course).

21. Dancers fascinate me.

22. I go for the weird. They influence me in varying degrees.

23. I firmly believe in speaking out my mind. So if you see me and we run out of small talk, I just say “out my mind”.

24. My pet names for my sisters are Peykchupuxkwenah and Pushinet.

25. Mahal ko si Mr.Kabab.

Kill The Cat Killer!

2009-04-16T23:09:00.000-07:00

There are things that make me angry. and then there are those that make me raging mad. i just read this post (link pm'd by one of my colleagues and fellow UPian and catperson, Kerwin Nicolas) about a certain UP student, Joseph Carlo Candare, an alleged cat- killer. The info was posted by another UPian blogger (ty for being so concerned) about how and why a hapless little kitten was killed by a vicious beast of a teenager. here's CatKiller's post on his multiply site (fortunately copied by Upian blogger, before the site was closed, probably because of numerous Abuse reports) -

Name: Joseph Carlo Candare
Nickname: JC
Age: 18
School: UP Diliman (nop for long!!!)
Course: Applied Physics
Hometown: Butuan City
Multiply: http://myperfectsymmetry.multiply.com/

The entry

4th Epic Fail: An Accidental Crime. First day sa supercon. Lunch time came. On our way out of old NIP I saw the cat I almost killed last Tuesday. Now everyone knows I hate cats. It's an unexplainable feeling towards them. Like some internal hatred. Hindi ko talaga alam kung bakit pero anumang pagpipigil sa sarili ay hindi sapat upang mapangibabawan ang panggigil ko sa mga pusa. I pulled it on its tail and threw it. Then like some pro wrestler I jumped on it and my feet landed on it's torso. Slam! Felt good! But the cat didn't die, well not yet. It ran for it's life and just as I was about to catch up on it somebody yelled: "Pwede bang pabayaan mo yung pusa?!". It was instant and involuntary. I stopped on my tracks. Nobody ever stopped me when assaulting cats. Well I guess there's always a first time for everything. The cat got away. Or at least that's what i thought. So we went to lunch Mel, Jayson, Tracy and me. After lunch, balik na sa kung anumang naiwang gawain. Then Tracy and Mel told me " Hui Jc napatay mo yung pusa". Hours later, habang abala sa XRD, a guy came in. Tanong niya: "Sinong pumatay dun sa pusa?" Bang! Dat was me boi. Guilty as charged.

I didn't see it die pero sabi ni Myles it coughed up blood or at least something like that daw. Didn't realize I gave it a fatal hit. This isn't the first time I've killed a cat but this time it's different. It didn't occur to me back then that the cat had a leash. So I think somebody owns it. Well it's very well loved in NIP from what I heard and I just ended it's life. So there you go I'm sorry. And I wont be striking another one for maybe about a month. It feels good when your beating it(a cat) up but you suddenly feel something strange when it turns off permanently. That's how I feel right now. And maybe for the next days. Dang, am I a cat serial killer?

Obviously, this guy doesn't have a clue that his current mindset is setting him towards becoming a serial killer (they always start out torturing little animals).

I hope this guy gets karma big time. It's an ever bigger shame that he's currently studying in UP- dapat he should know better because he's being provided with premium education. Maybe it just goes to show how twisted he is, and perhaps, he may already be irrevocably damaged inside. People like him always turn out for the worse. I pray na maagapan pa sya. If not, at least, sana, one day when he's out walking, he encounters some crazy guy strong enough to throw him up into the air and for fun, stomps on his torso as he hits the floor. That should show him.

Gushing about the local band scene

2008-12-07T20:18:00.000-08:00

Last Saturday, my band, Distantshores, had the privilege of performing with some of the upcoming talents in the Philippine underground scene. The experience was one of the few good events I’ve gone to for quite a while now, so I felt compelled to write about it. The event was spearheaded by friends of ours, Rj Chaves and Aries, the guys who started the After Shift Jam series; gigs usually done during the early morning hours to cater to call center agents. Saturday’s gig was one of the rare occasions that the event was done at night, it was even featured as live webstreaming from 6Underground’s website.
Anyhoo, we confirmed last on the bandlist, so we were slated to perform as the 7th(last) band. Nevertheless, my bandmates and I intentionally went in early so that we could watch the performances by the other bands (kasi we heard apparently yung mga kasama namin that night were really good). I think we made the right decision. The bands who performed not only lived up to the hype, pero they actually took it to the next level. So here I am, tryin’ to help these musicians out, cause if they deserve anything for their music, it’s being heard and appreciated.

Here they are;

The Ram Chaves band (formerly known as Sutil) – You might have seen Ram (known as RJ pa rin to most) in the TV show Pinoy Idol. He finished third. If you ask me, Ram’s beyond anything inane such as being known as “third”. Some people might say “di sya nanalo kasi ginagaya nya si bamboo”– that’s just ignorant banter. You wouldn’t say that if you’ve seen him perform live. This guy, si Ram, along with his bandmates, Wilbert, Bong and their new bassist (sorry didn’t get the name-pero he placed 1st in The Rj Nationwide search for Music Hero, si Dob, our bassist was on the top ten) – perform their hearts out when they play. They’re really good to watch, the type of show that just makes you want to sing along, if only you knew the lyrics. Anyhoo, all those people who didn’t vote for Rj, you’ve just been upyoursed. Kasi they have an album coming out in January under VIVA records. Fortunately, things always have a way of working out. ☺

Menaya – I’ve heard about this band while to talking to a former bandmate of mine. One time, nagkita kami, he said, “uy, vote mo naman sa NU countdown ung band ng best friend ko, he plays guitar for MENAYA”. Syempre, ako naman, haven’t even heard of the band so I just gave a noncommittal answer. Watching them play sa 6Underground totally changed my outlook. The few songs they performed were enough to convert me to a full-fledged fan. Menaya’s music is not the usual Filipino-yi sound you hear on the radio. It actually sounds like they’re foreigners. I’m not trying to sound like I’m belittling anything sounding Filipino-yi, I’m just trying to give a distinction (I hope I don’t offend anyone with this thought). As I was saying, I was really surprised kasi ang ganda-ganda ng tunog nila. Just my type. It’s easy-listening-rock-na-hindi-maingay-kahit-nakadistort-ang-gitars. Astig. You can put their CD in the car stereo and go on a joy ride habang inuulit-ulit ito sa playlist. If you wanna know what I mean, just check them out sa record stores, their second CD’s already out.

Ursa Minor – Besides the fact that the band’s astig kasi they have a female drummer (I personally think that girls who can rock as well as or even better than some guys are innately cool) they’ve got a really great sound. Try to catch them at their gigs; I think they’re pretty active in the underground scene, so those of you who are part of music mailing lists sa yahoo groups would usually see them on gig scheds. I don’t know if they have an album out yet, pero I’m sure to buy one if they do.

** at this point, I’m gonna plug in for my fellow musikeros na rin kasi they too deserve kudos, kahit na sa simpleng post lang.

Ambermoon (Effect) – They currently reside and gig in Baguio, although they’ve already performed here in Manila. I really respect these guys not only because I personally know them pero kahit na I haven’t had the opportunity to watch them play live, I’ve listened to their demo songs sa soundclick and they sound really good. Dati kong kabanda si Rubena, vox nila. She’s one of the best female singers in the Philippines. If you don’t want to take my word for it, you can always watch them perform and you’ll know it for fact. Bukod dun, her band’s got a heck of a repertoire for musicians, si Jethro, si Sev, si Oliver and their lead guitars (sorry po, I haven’t met him pa) – they’re all really, really adept, judging from their songs. So please try to catch them play, if you can.

The Lowtechs – Another band I’m really proud to be acquainted with. Gelo, the vox, was my blockmate nung college sa Fine Arts. They’ve made quite a name for themselves sa underground scene. So bukod me being happy about my blockmate, I’m proud that these guys, Baguio guys all, are on their way to success dito sa Manila (and it’s really hard to make a distinction at all dito, as I should know).

Tabass – Tabass’s music in three words – FUN FUN FUN. Met them sa After Shift Jam. You haven’t had a really good bar experience unless you’ve seen AJ, Suzi and Bennet perform onstage (it gets even better if they’re inebriated). Their music, with some quips and anecdotes thrown in for laughs, really make watching them a novel experience. Astig kasi pag nakikipagsabayan ka sa kanila lalo na sa mga kanta nila like “Gusto Ko Matutong Mag-Rap” or “Granma” or their cover of Wham’s Careless Whisper. Their single – “Balat Kayo” is currently number four on the Pinoy Rock Countdown on 105.9 after only a week of airplay. I’m urging anyone who reads this to lend a hand and cast a vote .

Kastigo – This time, don't know them personally pero I’m still gonna write about them. Got acquainted with their music through Sir Eric (my account’s Creative Director) a fellow local music enthusiast. I think the guitar guy is some kind of a guitar henyo. Apparently he doesn’t use a pick when playing the guitar. Magaling sya, magaling sila. Their song Kapag Kapiling Ka (KKK) is on my Ipod’s jogging playlist. I’ve once had this song on repeat for a whole day at work – it’s that catchy. They’ve got an album out so try to ask about them on your local music stores.

Traumaligno – Boom, the vox, I do know from college (seems a lot of people I know from college are currently in the band scene). His band’s also released an Indie album, called “Baon". Astig rin ang tunog nila. The guitars sound great and of course, astig ang bosses ni Boom (heard he got the best vox award sa After Shift Jam awards last year).

Basilica – Been hoping to see them perform live for quite some time now. Di ko matyempuhan. Magaling kasi sila e. Watching them’s gonna be on top of my current to-do list. They’re that good.

Even – This band, di ko pa naririnig. Di ko rin kilala. I just read from a post though that
they won the latest Red Horse Muziklaban competition. And they’re from Baguio. Kudos to them.

I know that most of you might think the only reason I’m promoting these bands is because of the fact that I know most of them. The thing is, I am taking the time to write about them because as a musician, I’ve listened to and appreciated their music. More than that, I know that their gifts of melody have been given to them for a reason; it might be for something as shallow as trying to have a good time or something as serious as you finding something you can relate to and that something might even inevitably alter your life’s path. Of course, that just might be the romantic in me speaking, but who knows? Anything is possible. For those reasons, I know I’m gonna sound cliché by finishing this post by urging everyone not to buy pirated CDs’ but for these bands and all other struggling musicians out there, one Original CD bought means quite a lot, so I am gonna endure becoming part of the generic crowd at least this once. Here goes, PLEASE, DON’T BUY PIRATED CDs, TANGKILIKIN ANG SARILING ATIN.

Like falling off a bike. literally.

2008-11-25T05:00:00.000-08:00

I fell off my mountain bike last Friday. Actually, let me rephrase that, I flew off my mountain bike last Friday; arms-and-legs flailing, screaming-my-head-off flying. It’s the kind of stupidity I thought I outgrew, like peer pressure and cutting classes to go drinking. The most embarrassing thing about it was, about 25 people saw me actually careening through the air. I can only imagine the collective thought going through everyone’s heads at the time (including mine) – what an idiot.
The funny thing is, I still couldn’t believe it could happen to me – I, who spent my childhood enmeshed in animate activities that would drive any sane parent to tooth-clacking, knee-trembling hysteria if only they knew about it.
When I was a kid, I’ve jumped (fallen) down 10-foot walls while lugging a bag of stolen kamotes (and running from a fuming gardener waving a big-ass bolo), slid down streetlight poles ala fireman-in-action, scaled bayabas and avocado trees in search of Y-shaped branches for slingshots, illegally entered park premises by clambering up the park fences and various other monkey-brained schemes. Most importantly, and I guess, not surprisingly, because of my seemingly uncontained childhood adrenaline, I’ve found the time to learn and eventually become accomplished in Roller Skating, BMX and skateboarding. I’m not going to say that my skills could’ve gotten me into the X-Games, that would’ve been exaggerating, but suffice it to say that for a 10yr old kid and a GIRL for that matter, I could beat most teenagers in a karera.
Anyway, considering my past life as an adrenaline-pumped (kiti-kiti if my mother had anything to say about it) juvenile reprobate, I should have known better than to speed up on a curve. So, here I am with severely bruised elbows and knees and various black and blue pain points on my body. That’s not the only problem though. I’ve been having a constant headache since the incident happened and it’s been four days already. I haven’t told my older sister (the tattletale) nor my mom about it. My mom wasn’t too happy about what happened and has called me repeatedly since Saturday morning so that she could recite a sermon I’ve heard the -enth time using a voice usually reserved to start wildebeest stampedes. The headache’s not actually a big deal, I could even ignore it if I wanted to but knowing when it started and speculating about the probable cause, it’s starting to worry me A LOT. Unfortunately (or ironically), though I never backed down from a challenge, I go tail-between-the-legs scared when it comes to doctors. No, I’ve never been hospitalized because of my over-active behavior as a child so you can rule that out. I just don’t like going to doctors, or to hospitals, for that matter. Maybe it's my irrational fear, like what other people have against ghosts; though on my part, I fear something more concrete. I don’t know what to do. I know it’s unreasonable – I’m covered by medical insurance and I need only get a doctor’s appointment and be present on the day of the appointment, but I just can’t seem to do it. I really don’t know what to do. Maybe it’s just paranoia. I’m fervently hoping that what I’m feeling is only Hypochondria because at least that way, I’m only imagining the pain and there’s really nothing wrong beyond my usual cookoo-ness.
Nevertheless, I am going to give myself a deadline, if this headache’s still with me on Friday, it’s off to the Doctor on the weekend for me (which I'm still fervently hoping against). Wish me luck. Sana all it is is a concussion and nothing worst.

Try To Look Up, Tilt Your Chin Up A Bit , Then Smile

2008-10-06T04:12:00.000-07:00

Lately I’ve been trying soooo hard to keep my perspective about things. It just seems that everything’s not satisfactory anymore.
Anyway, I’ve been trying to keep myself enthused by a few things that I think are really helping me keep my attention away from more dejecting matters.

Reading blogs – I’ve discovered that reading some of my friends’ blogs are actually therapeutic. Why? Getting to know them better through their posts just assures you that you’re not as disturbed as you thought you were. This is a very good thing because, you find out that you do belong to a group, albeit a looney one. ☺ ahhh, the rewards of a comfort zone. Besides, reading about problems and anecdotes not your own gives you a glimpse of life from another perspective, and that’s always refreshing.

Finding a hobby – Lately, I’ve been trying to condition my body into returning to its former athlete-form (I played varsity tennis in college till I busted my shoulder). I realized that besides the fact that I’m beginning to look like a fat-ass, I may be someone who might be described as one who’s “gone to seed”. I find it troubling to be bothered by a phrase that I’m not even sure I know the meaning of. Anyway, I always read about that saying in books, when the author describes the former athlete with the current beer paunch. Just thinking about it depresses me. So, here I am, willing to take on a new hobby to battle the invasion of flab. More importantly, running’s keeping me from brooding too much (it's really hard to be "brooding" when you're about to collapse from exhaustion). This time, I guess having a hobby’s more than just about the hobby itself. Besides, just the thought of eventually looking better is always a welcome addition to the list of pick-me-ups.

Pasta Catatonia! - I recently experimented with making a pasta dish throwing together various ingredients I found in my apartment's pantry - Penne pasta, thyme, rosemary, tuna chunks in veg oil, rock salt (yes, rock salt since i couldn't locate where my housemates kept the iodized variety), some capers, pitted olives and a bit of corn oil (sounds eww).
I'm not gonna call the activity cooking because I don't think boiling penne qualifies as cooking anyway. Nevertheless, I think I came out of the experiment successfully because everyone I've forced into sampling my pasta told me I did good, meaning- they gorged and were satisfied. More importantly, they exclaimed that the taste was really yummy. This means a lot, because the majority of people I've fed so far- mainly my housemates - haven't really tasted anything I've put together, besides the usual hotdogs and instant noodles.
I'm not really the cooking type. The last time I cooked, I remember my Dad and I having a row about why I couldn't even fry an egg right. I felt so bad, I ran away from home, well, for 5 hours at least. I went back because I found a lost kitty and had to return home to get some milk - I remembered seeing a can in our refrigerator.
Back to the story - I named my dish Pasta Catatonia! (note the exclamation point, yes, it's part of the dish's name, so you have to say it with flourish) jokingly warning my housemates that a bite of it can render you Catatonic for 5 minutes. I haven't had anyone go into a coma yet so another hoorah for me.

A new pet – I have been reluctant to get a pet since my kitten, Cleocatra a.k.a memeh, an abyssinian mau, died. She mistakenly ate rat poison at our neighbor’s gym, thinking it might have been her usual fare of Whiskas cat food. I was so distraught over her death, I wasn’t able to go home to the apartment for 2 weeks. I had to bunk over at my sister’s apartment until the grief became at least bearable. Call me a drama queen, but I couldn’t help it, I am and always have been, a cat person.

memeh my cat

Anyway, we do have a new pet now, a little puppy by the name of Falcor (named after the Neverending story’s Luck Dragon).

Falcor a.k.a Maximus Decimus Meridius

He may not be a cat but I treat him like one.
He’s such a small bundle of excitement and energy that you can’t help but smile just by looking at his antics. That’s one less frown for a day. ☺

more new pets, Antoinette "Grabiddy" Rabbit and Seamus the Kitty

Music – I’m really thankful that I’ve been given a chance to relive my music this year. I am thankful that my bandmates have found the time and exerted the effort to go to our jamming sessions and play our music like they did when first we met.
I am thankful to have found a gig with a good sound system and a good crowd and to have sung my heart out, because of it.
I wish I had the patience to sit down one day and finally work on the multitude of recorded voice notes and rough riffs in my cellphone so I can arrange them into complete songs (and good ones, at that).
I wish that we could continue recording our songs so that we can finally release our Demo CD.
I thank the Lord that He has given me the gift to create and be music. It’s always been one of the soothing constants in my life and without it, I may have sunk into the doldrum mire a long, long time ago.

Anyway, that’s my list for now. I’m not sure if it’s going to be a lot of help to you reader, but I hope it has kept you from thinking about your worries, even if it’s just for a little while.
Find things to distract you, find things that make you smile. Sooner or later, you’ll be surprised that you’ve passed your “down-phase” and everything’s gotten better.

Mesmerized

2008-10-03T05:48:00.000-07:00

no, i am not going home until i sort myself out. homesick..homesick..homesick..
besides, baka magkita pa tayo and all hell will break loose.

You make me want to write. I, who writes as often as the elusive thunderstorm vents its fury in summer.
I hate it that you make me feel this way.
I hate being so out of myself and being so insecure, especially since being in control is what makes me tick in front of people.
The worst part of it is of you having no idea about how you affect me so.
It must be grand being your usual ordinary self yet affecting someone in an extraordinary way.
i hate losing myself this way, especially, losing myself to a person who i'm not even sure is worth losing oneself into.
Hence, I'm instigating this constant battle to hate you.
It's a defense mechanism you see, it would be better for me if I didn't like you too much because eventually (and inevitably), it wouldn't hurt too much either.
So stop being your usual charming self and at least show a little bad character.

I don't know what I see in you anyway. You're a nerd and from what I've personally seen so far, boring.
You're someone who doesn't usually deviate from convention and that makes you as interesting as fighting off a yawn during a sleepy school afternoon.
Worst of all, you look like the type of person who basks in a comfort zone.
This means, you content yourself by having and being what others expect you to be and not even exerting effort to go beyond the cliches.
I know it's unfair that I've put you in a box and I know it's more than unfair that that box is made up of nothing but speculations and vindictive thoughts but, as you may have gathered already, if you're the between-the-lines type, I'm desperately looking for ways to preserve myself.

I'm sure that in reality, you're more than a person in a box and you're even more wonderful
than what I clearly deny myself to see but right now, I don't want to think about that.
You see, I've got everything to lose in this game and what gets to me is you're not even in it.

#13 General V. Lim Street and other stories

2008-09-03T03:45:00.000-07:00

When I was a kid, we lived in a big old colonial house that people who saw it for the first time would always automatically think they’re looking at a genuine haunted house. We were still relatively poor then, we didn’t have a house of our own and lived with two other families renting with us. It’s not as pitiful as it sounds though. The house was what writers would describe as “rambling” in novels. It was a 2-storey relic from the 1900’s, which means, it was there when the Japanese invaded our islands and when the Americans came in force to the Cordilleras, to help repel the attacking foes. Since the house was so big, we shared the ground floor with the G*******s, a family of four, who had 2 children the same age as my sister and I. The 2nd story was rented by the B*******s, a married couple who were richer than most (they were both officials in a government agency department), but too scrimpy to buy a house of their own. They had a son whom I couldn’t remember much, since he was about 7 yrs my senior. The B*******s, also served as the monthly rent-collectors, since they personally knew the owners of the house, an old Spanish family by the name of Ricafort, who were residing here in Manila. The rent money was supposedly sent out by mail every month-end, but it was a favorite topic of our elders back then, guessing how much the B*******s pocketed and how much was actually collected by the Ricaforts.
The house was built according to the style of American suburb houses - if you used to visit Baguio back then (‘80s- early ‘90s), you would recognize it looking like one of the Camp John Hay cottages. If you weren’t fortunate enough to have seen the Camp back then (hence having no idea how the cottages looked like) let me just give a brief description. They were made of white enamel- painted wood, with chocolate brown foundations and green-shingled tile/ wood roofs. I know, it’s a lousy description, but hey, I was about 10 when I last saw them. Anyway, take that image of a house and imagine it with the paint being the worse for wear but big enough so that a mob of 25 could live inside comfortably.
Adding to the fascination of it being a humongous, old house with a long history, it was located in a neighborhood that we locals termed as “bakasyunan”. Every year during the Lenten season, especially on Holy Week, our neighborhood would fill up with actors, actresses and other big names in the country taking a break from work. When I say big names, I don’t exaggerate - Isabel Granada, Aiko Melendez and Robin Padilla, to name a few, used to spend Semana Santa in the vacation houses lining our street. It was totally exhilarating to live next door to the current matinee idol/ love team at that time.
Our area was prime real estate due to a few reasons. First was the location, it was a 5-minute walk from Burnham Park. You might think that we were overrun by tourists all the time but, actually, we were at the ‘back” part of the park, away from the market and the major road that led to the business district. The only people who actually knew about our street were locals who knew that traffic was virtually non-existent in that part of town. Additionally, our neighborhood was located within the side of Baguio that wasn’t congested and instead of the numerous buildings that were popping up like mushrooms after the storm at that time, the General Lim (our street) area was still surrounded by majestic pine trees. For the better part of the year, the big houses in our street were deserted, like big mammals that hibernate until summer comes along, then becomes full of life again as their vacationing owners – their families, friends, friends’ friends return from the lowlands.
Living in General Lim, my playmates were mostly composed of the caretakers’ kids. Schooldays would be an endless longing for dismissal. At about 2:00pm, the street would start filling up with kids still in school uniforms (almost always being chased by elder sisters who were usually in charge of family laundry) eagerly awaiting their playmates. My dad was abroad at that time and my mom also had a day job, so my sister and I were left to the care of aunts and older cousins staying with us for college schooling. Anyway, I was free to spend the remainder of the day outdoors, familiarizing and eventually mastering all the things kids considered important stuff back then. I guess one of the main reasons I had a pretty good chilhood was because of the fact that almost all of the kids in General Lim were at my age group. Hence, we shared the same interests and gave import to the same things. Usually topmost on our agendas were of course, games.
Children who grew up without strict supervision would know that the “games” cycled like seasons throughout the year. January would start out as the “tex” season. If you don’t know what tex is, dati eto ung mga maliliit na karton na may print sa harap, then themed with local movies like Inday inday sa balitaw, Kumander Bawang, Valentina at ang anak ni Zuma, Pik Pak Boom and Lintik lang ang walang ganti, to name a few. The children of General Lim would usually go around the block carrying a shoebox each, containing the precious tex. The kid who’s currently on a days-long winning streak would even use the things to make business, selling tex at 10pieces for 2pesos. This gimmick really worked well if, once the loser bought 10 pieces, current winner would usually challenge him to another bet-all game, thus getting back the tex he’s sold. To be a good tex player, you should know terms like “cha”, “choob”, “kasado” and “quits” by heart.
After tex would come the season of rubberbands. I think I know and played almost every Filipino game involving rubberbands. There are the physical games like sipa, 5-5, 10-15, high jump and Chinese Garter and the acquire games like Pitik, Toss and “tatsing”. Like tex, we paraded around with our rubberband-chain links wrapped around our torsos imitating what Hulk Hogan and “Macho Man” Randy King Savage did with their World Wrestling Federation Belts. I also mastered how to make paper and plastic kites and we would steal thread from our moms’ sewing kits to have kite-flying contests on windy days.
The boys also taught me to play Turumpo or the top (hmm sounds kinky). I learned how to distinguish a top that would turn smoothly by looking at the body contour, type of wood and the construction nail used to assemble the toy. Besides that, I also know how to “pick up” a spinning top into my palm or aim it accurately so that it drills a hole into a Spartan tsinelas, once released from the top string. I’ve played jolen, Washington, taguan (moonlit nights were the best), patintero, langit lupa, tumbang preso, touch the body, pog, monkeymonkey, sawsaw suka, catcher, piko, luksong-baka, pitik-bulag and games that were so obscure, we had to invent names for them.
There was a day that we looked forward to every summer, when winged ants would fill the air due to the mating season. We would cut up big cans of Nido or Bear Brand and stuffed dried pine needles inside. We lit these up and ran all over the street screaming our lungs out while waving the cans in the air so the smoke would repel the winged insects. Thinking back, I don’t think this method was effective against the ants at all and the only thing we got from it were scoldings when we got home because we smelled and looked like we just came in from a forest fire, but it still was a ritual we kids looked forward to every year.
When we got bored with playing, we went adventuring.
As I previously mentioned, General Lim and the other streets included in the barangay was in an area with big, deserted houses, tall pine trees and vacant lots overrun with weeds, ivy, kamote plants and sunflowers. There’s a story told by the old people in our street. Apparently, when the Japanese came into the Philippines, they used the then standing houses in our barangay as temporary garrisons. A prevalent (and favorite) topic regarding this alleged “history” of our place were the ghost stories. Anyway, I’m going to enumerate some of them and before you accuse me of digressing, let me just say that I think these stories play an important role in understanding why living in General Lim was such a novel experience. So, here goes.

GHOST STORIES
There was this one house situated in the Legarda-General Lim street corner where, it was whispered, that a headless priest shows up every time a blackout occurs. Another house crumbling and abandoned, supposedly became the den of occultists/ Satanists because of the atrocities committed there during the war. One childhood rite we had to perform was to go up to the porch of the said house and knock 3x. We were scared witless because the windowpanes had weird markings that we used to think were arcane writings of those who dwelled within. Another ghost story favorite of mine was “the march”. Our neighbor, an old caretaker by the name of auntie Mary would tell us that on foggy nights, one could hear the faint thump of marching boots in cadence on the deserted street. The house adjacent to us was rumored to have been built on top of a hospital that was blown up during the bombings, it being in particular a children’s nursery - which might explain why, on cold nights, some profess to hearing babies crying and children wailing like they were in a lot of pain.
Of course, our house had its own claim to fame. Remember when I mentioned that it looked like a haunted house? That was because we believed it was one. The story is about one of the Ricafort clan, the only daughter. Apparently it was her wedding day when the Japanese came to take the house as part of their headquarters. Ricafort (don’t know the married name) and husband were shot down in front of the house for refusing to let the Japanese inside the gate. Some said that they occasionally see someone wearing what looked like a wedding dress circling our house every now and then. They say that the Ricafort ghost still haunts the area looking for her husband. For some reason though, I wasn’t afraid of living there. Even when sometimes, we could hear the thump of running feet on our ceiling when we knew that the B*******s had gone out, we still went on our daily business unalarmed. Perhaps the reason was, we believed that the Ricafort ghost had been protecting our house instead of haunting it, which explains why it’s still standing even after the Japanese apparently bombed our area in the 1940’s. At times when there were really strong typhoons, the house would creak and shudder but never fail to shelter. In the 1990 earthquake, the cliff beside our house collapsed in a landslide, but the massive rocks stopped short of the house’s side wall.

We believed all the “Japanese” stories regarding our neighborhood. The reason? We used to dig up 3-inch long bullets when we went searching for kamotes to roast in our street bonfires (a ritual involving a pile made of lots of dried pine needles and freshly dug kamotes carefully placed in the middle). My dad and his friends found bayonets (a weapon favored by the Japanese infantry) canon balls, wallets, boots and various stuff that looked to have been war-era at the vacant lot behind our house. There was even a scrawl in our bathroom saying “john was here during the war, 1942”.
The most interesting story I guess is what drew treasure hunters in droves to our community. Standing theory is that the Japanese, having lost the war, left in such a hurry that they buried part of the Yamashita trove in one of the caves that riddled the stretches of unkempt land in our neighborhood. Different treasure hunting types (complete with spelunking equipment) would arrive at least 2 times a year to snoop around and try to verify if the theory is true. Of course, being protective of the relative privacy of our area, we would usually tell them that it’s just a local joke. Anyway, it was all very exciting stuff to us kids and we sometimes tried to do some “treasure hunting” ourselves, but since we also knew the part of the story about various booby traps and curses attached to the “treasure” we never got farther than a few feet into the caves.

Another highpoint of living in General Lim was being so close to Burnham Park. My barkada and I would spend weekends and idle summer days going to the park trying out the swings, monkey bars, slides and seesaws. The BMX craze afflicted us when we watched ET a few years after it was released. We all became bicycle fanatics. I can still remember my first try on a rented park bike, 8 years old aboard a wobbling bike desperately trying to avoid colliding with a garbage pile while my friends laughed their hearts out. Even without bikes of our own, we became adepts, living so close to the park. One of our favorite pastimes was challenging tourist-looking kids to kareras. After our BMX craze, we graduated to skateboarding, then to Roller Skating by the time the skating rink opened in the early ‘90s.
We also took advantage of the other perks the park had to offer. Most memorable were the days that we went “fishing” in Burnham Lake for Carpa fish using Oishi and Ringbee chips for bait and a rebended safety pin tied with a string for our hooks. We would carry home our Carpa fishes in the empty Oishi junkfood containers and feed them to our cats (I think this was my “cruel kid who tortured small animals” phase). When Christmas season arrived, we bought our fireworks with money we “earned” from singing Christmas carols to park goers. Our scheme involved going to the park at early evening then singing carols to lovers huddled on isolated park benches. They were usually our “victims” because they could not wait to get rid of us and get back to whatever they were doing in the secluded spot so they usually gave us big sums of money (P5, wow!) for us to move along.
Note: I was very lucky that the General Lim- Burnham Area was still safe when I was growing up, as a result, our parents never really worried about us much so we went everywhere within the vicinity.

Anyway, however much the park attractions lured us, we still spent most of our childhood time wandering through our own neighborhood. A few minutes walk/ climb from the plateau at the back of our house would get us to the infamous Don Ramon Roces Rose garden. Apparently, the Don’s eldest son suffered from asthma and the sprawling rose garden was planted and maintained for him as a gift from his dad. Being another vacation place, we would invade the Roces grounds and head to the 3 big ponds within the Garden. We held contests every rainy season to see who could catch the most tadpoles in an hour. Beyond the Roces property, is the Prieto compound, a series of fenced in European-looking vacation houses (complete with a private driveway that looked more like a private road) guarded by a lone caretaker. Needless to say, we raided the empty houses whenever we had the chance. We didn’t steal anything; we just wanted to feel the thrill of how it was like to be inside the seemingly brooding but still grand houses. Our favorite spot within the compound was the breathtaking view of the Baguio Convention Center, seen through the caretaker’s carefully kept flower garden. On sunny mornings, it was like being in another country, or another world for that matter.

We moved away from General Lim in my third year in high school because by then, my parents were able to afford a house of our own. I think that was the time that childhood really ended for me. Looking back I think childhood was left behind in General Lim Street. We all knew, that as happy as we were to have our own place, the house and area we spent my early years in still held a different appeal.
Anyway, I wrote this post because I dreamed about General Lim last night. I woke up and realized that although I’m years and miles away from that wondrous place, I have never truly outgrown it. Its magic and appeal will always be a part of me and I am gratified because somehow I know that a new batch of kids is continuing the adventure we took part in years ago.

Life, Half-Lived

2008-08-24T23:30:00.000-07:00

Living a half-life? Not sure? Read my symptoms then.

THE JOB

BEFORE
You started each morning actually wanting to go to work for no other reason than sheer, bright-eyed enthusiasm. More than that, you couldn't wait to go to work everyday to the extent that you go to sleep the night before thinking about what you're going to wear so that you could look the part of the sharp, talented, individual that you are. After thinking about the "get-up" you start worrying about work that hasn't been handed to you yet and if you could possibly come up with something so stellar, so mind-blowing that oohhh's and ahhh's will be the standard reactions of your colleagues. Take note, all this fretting actually takes place BEFORE the work has been handed to you. Such was your zeal and optimism that the word "effort" was always/inevitably trailed by the suffix "less" for you.

NOW
You set your morning alarm at least 2hrs and 30mins before your actual work time to avoid the early traffic but end up setting it to "snooze" for another hour, totally canceling out your intent to be punctual. This has become your morning routine, a continuous battle not to be late for work that you lose everyday. Upon getting to the office, you spend a small amount of time worrying what others might think of your constant tardiness. But then, as I mentioned, it's just a small amount of time. You simply don't give a damn anyway, or should I say, anymore. Once in your station, you sigh and think about how you're going to get through another day because it seems you already want to leave when you've just gotten there. You spend the day idling and procrastinating then make up various alibis you recite to yourself so you could feel less guilty. You never even stop to wonder why you feel the need to defend yourself against your conscience.
There's always a ready litany going on in your head that you don't get paid enough for what you do. However, when work does come, you whine and grumble about why you've been chosen to do it and how come so-and-so wasn't picked first for the responsibility anyway?
So goes your week in the office, a seemingly alternating cycle of ennui and listlessness, leaving you to wonder if your existence meant anything at all, and, if anybody ever cared anyway. The only perk is anticipating when office hours end, forever looking forward to the weekends and holidays-in-between so you could burrow into your bed where it's okay to pretend the world's dead to you, or on more pessimistic days, that you're dead to the world.
Within this state of melancholia, you ask yourself what went wrong and surely there must be something better meant for you.
You grieve because deep down, you know you still love what you do (and you know you're supposed to be good at it) but you're confounded as to why it's becoming harder and harder to create and deliver - something that was so innate and effortless before.
You spend lackadaisical minutes eaten by doubt about losing your touch and end up everyday berating yourself that you'll never get it back.
You dread that somehow along the way, you've become an automaton. You've stopped caring about what should really mean something to you and even that dark thought doesn't bother you much anymore because you've gotten so used to feeling it anyway.
You used to call your job your passion but now it's simply work, most of the time, it's just a bother.
There's a specific time of day that you decide you've had enough and you make a resolve to change your situation but then something inane comes along, you forget about your resolve in the meantime, leaving it to crumble without you even knowing it.
Though you do have certain aspirations, either you're making excuses or postponing anything even remotely resembling a forward step until what you deem as the "right time" comes along. You're fooling yourself and you know it.
Such is your drama right now and the worst part, when all is said and done, is that you're still trudging along to the same discordant beats of boredom and all the supposed-to-be intolerable crap and yet, you let yourself be.

THE LOVELIFE

BEFORE
Starry-eyed and lightning-struck, you were. Couldn't live without seeing him everyday and if you had your way, you wouldn't leave his side, ever.
Your schedule was based on his, your efforts aimed at his happiness, never mind your own. What made him happy is what made you happy. The high points in your life were counting the proverbial "little things" he did for you. All was well, all was perfect. You may have had a shitty job, you may have had a hell of a week but at the end of the day, you had him, and nothing else mattered.

NOW
You wonder if the saying " familiarity breeds boredom" is true. Yet, you try to take it a step further and wonder if familiarity doesn't only breed boredom but contempt, too. You have been together for so long that the sparks have almost all sputtered out, so to speak.
The things you used to love about him are currently your pet peeves.
It's becoming harder and harder to become excited when he's around because everything's become predictable and mundane. You catch him giving other girls the "checking-out" look that guys, while they say it's natural for them, shouldn't do when they're with the supposed "loves of their life".
You try to convince yourself that you're jealous, but deep down, you know you're just angry at what he's become. You try to blame yourself and try to feel appropriately contrite but find out that more and more, you give other guys the "once-over" look too and don't necessarily feel guilty about it.
You want to fix things but you don't know where to start because you're not sure if anything needs fixing anyway. You come to a conclusion that you're both fine, but maybe you don't love each other as much anymore. Still, you try to cling to what once was for the sake of a comfort zone but you belatedly realize that, like too-wet sand, it's useless to hold on to something that can't be possibly held for long. You still haven't reached the stage of letting go but you know that the day looms ever closer and you're not trying that hard to stop it.

LIFE AS YOU CURRENTLY LIVE IT
You immerse yourself in things not related to your job or your lovelife so you can distract yourself from the dismal reality. You have your music, your art, your activities and even find yourself an elusive subject of infatuation to get you through your days. You drown yourself in pursuits that are trivial to avoid slumping in a corner and shedding frustrated tears. Efforts that may be better spent on your job or your lovelife are wasted on petty things that you delude yourself into believing are important. You hate what you've become and you hate how the world has changed. You want to do something about it but it seems daunting to face the problems on your own. You need help but you don't know who to ask it from and if you did find someone, you wouldn't know how to state your plea anyway. You've become helpless and you constantly wonder when it's going to end, or, if it's going to end at all. As such, you're on the verge of collapsing because you're so tired of grappling with a foe you just couldn't beat and it's taking all your resources to keep going on.
If such is your existence right now, such is mine. Welcome to what I call the "half-life" malady.

A Love Affair With Volleyball

2008-08-01T02:44:00.000-07:00

THE EARLY DAYS OF FALLING IN LOVE

I’ve been a volleyball addict for as long as I could remember.

High School
The best memories were in high school. I literally started and ended my days with thoughts of volleyball. My teammates and I went to school early so that we can play at least a set before the flag ceremony. Lunchtimes were usually contests of who can eat the fastest and get to the hard court first. This was a real big deal, because the fastest eaters get the choice 12 spots in Court A – a nicely paved hard court. Latecomers had to be content with Court B – littered with small pebbles and stray gravel from the constant construction the school underwent (up till now I still couldn’t figure out what they were always having fixed). There was a time we didn’t eat lunch at all because the lower years started eating on the court itself to get some “court time”. If we arrived late, we had to wait for them to finish a set before kicking them out, leaving us with only 30 minutes of gameplay. Besides going to school at an abnormally early hour, we left the campus at an even more absurd time – early evening (school ends at about 3:40 in the afternoon). It was at this time in my life that I never cared if I was usually burned to a crisp by the noonday sun, my shoes being constantly repaired or replaced (as long as there was a volleyball, I never cared if I played using my leathers) and scolded for the enth time because I went home so late. The weekends were neither rest nor home time for us, members of the volleyball team. We would usually meet at the park and challenge a rival school for a game of volleyball. We would also pool our left-over allowances for transportation because the schools we challenged were not necessarily located within the city. This was all done unofficially of course, as our school strictly forbade us to associate with other schools in contests and competitions promoting so-called "bad-feeling" amongst students. We used to think it might be because of our school being half a conservative convent (our teachers were sometimes the nuns themselves) and they just didn’t want to encourage any rivalries between their students and the other schools’. I personally thought they were afraid of having any record of losing. Yes, even a measly event such as an impromptu volleyball match would never fail to have the ever-disapproving nuns don their imposing scowls (the top nuns who ran our school were nothing but sinfully proud). Nevertheless, weekends turned out to be the best days when we battled at least 3-4 volleyball teams a day for a prize of 3 coke litros per game, and unofficial though it was, we were the main subjects of the inevitable gossip about our school beating so and so’s school in a volleyball match. We used to go around with our chests puffed out, obviously proud about helping our school gain a “to-beat’ reputation.

WHAT HURT THE MOST:
Because it was a constant activity, I’ve suffered countless injuries through my years of playing volleyball.

Sprained thumbs – I sprained my thumb every week in my 3rd yr in highschool. Come to think of it, all my fingers were sprained at one time or another. This was really a big bother, being one of our school choir’s lead guitarists, since I could neither pluck nor hold a pick. The Choir mistress actually forbade me to play any more volleyball so that I won’t be totally useless in choir. I ended up playing volleyball in secret for 2 months, hiding from teachers lest they spill the beans to the choir mistress. This went on until she realized I’ve been skipping choir practice more and more often– which she couldn’t afford of course, as I usually directed the instruments group. It was then she realized she couldn’t bar me from volleyball since I always found a way to sneak back into the court. In the end we made a compromise, as long as I didn’t miss choir practice for volleyball anymore, and as long as I took care of my fingers, I could play as often as I wanted.

Black and blue arms – There was this one time that we were so desperate to play but the school custodian locked all the cabinets containing the Mikasas (best ball to play volleyball with) and we didn’t have any personal Mikasa balls of our own (the professional ball costs over 1k, too much for our meager allowances back then). Fortunately, we discovered one of the sophomore students who owned a soccer ball. The Volleyball team went around the school for weeks with their uniforms’ sleeves uncharacteristically pulled down and buttoned. Our secret? Black and blue arms. Though it turned out that the soccer ball was way, way harder than the average volleyball, that didn’t stop us from playing with it for weeks anyway.

Twisted Ankles – If a hard-ass ball didn’t stop us from hitting our arms with it, neither did not being able to run stop us from playing. The person with the sprained ankle usually took the setter position. We helped out by being really careful with our 2nd ball reception because each of us took the designated setter position every other day anyway.

Scrapes and lacerations - If warriors had their battle scars, we had our gashes from trying to receive balls from jump-serves (those of us who had such) and wallops, digging for spikes and running after badly-bumped sets. Those were the medals we wore on our knees, wrists, fingers and on rare and unwanted occasions, our faces. I tell you now, cement courts weren't really made for floor games.

College Ball
College ball turned out to be a completely different experience. Although in my freshman year, still not a day passed without me playing volleyball. The Fine Arts building was strategically built beside Court B. I would play volleyball after every 4-hour fine arts subject and every other subject for that matter. It was no surprise when I took it for PE and aced the course in basic and advanced volleyball, for the summer.
Since volleyball was in my blood, I inevitably decided to try out for varsity. It wasn’t like it was in high school wherein we used 2 days of lunch hours to determine who would be in the team. The college process was a grueling 3-month affair with everybody trying to show their best in running, ball handling, teamplay and over-all athlete etiquette (whatever the hell that meant). Anyway, since I lived and breathed volleyball, I wasn’t one to complain. I went to school early and left late, this time with an official reason. As the months passed by the team positions were slowly filled up one by one. The Inter-university games were fast approaching and I still haven’t secured a spot. Finally, only one spot was left and there were still two of us to choose from. I began to doubting if I really wasn’t as good as I thought I was and all those months of strict regimen was just a mediocre performance on my part. I was pushing myself and from my personal opinion never played better in my life, but still I was in the pending list. One night, I was about to go home coming from a late subject when I decided to pass by the lockers. As I was about to enter, I took a peek to see who were still slugging it that late. Unfortunately, I saw the whole team assembled, plus my current competitor for the spot. They were all looking like they were having a party or something. That was when I realized. Lahat ng mga nakuha sa team ay either ka-Org nung coach or girlfriends ng mga guys sa men’s team and only 2 or three really had talent. As it turns out, my rival was one of the orgmates too. I couldn’t compete with that. So the next day, I didn't show up for practice for the first time and stopped going since then. Needless to say, the spot was given to my counterpart.

FALLING OUT OF LOVE
For a while I couldn’t play volleyball. I just couldn’t get the experience out of my head and when I did try to play, I couldn’t spike, I couldn’t set, I couldn't receive and worst, I couldn’t serve. It was an athlete’s worst nightmare come true. And it really affected me because I played volleyball not because I liked it, I played it because I loved it passionately.

THE REBOUND
The Inter-school competitions passed, with our school's Women's volleyball team winning only 2 games I think, from the requisite 12 and a new semester started. Even though I was still feeling bad about not being able to play for my school, being an athlete, I could not not play a sport. I took up lawn tennis for PE that year, hoping to learn something new. Since I was already used to running short distances at seemingly steroid-pumped runs due to the volleyball training, it wasn’t a surprise that I took to tennis like a bird takes to flying, so to speak. My tennis instructor, as it turned out, was also the college’s tennis coach and she immediately signed me for lawn tennis varsity. I only learned later that the reason why she signed me up on my first day of playing was because the basketball coach had his eye on me while we were doing laps around the court and wanted to ask me if I was interested in playing for his team. So, that’s how college went. I was in Lawn tennis varsity for 3 years and even won a Gold medal for the regional games. And while our team always placed 2nd in the inter-college competitions, the volleyball team remained in the low rungs. What still puzzles me to this day, is that however much we won, I didn’t feel as good when I wanted to gloat, as I wanted to.

GETTING OVER AND TRYING ANEW
Eventually though, I got over the whole volleyball-varsity experience and even got comfortable enough to join games wherein the Volleyball team members were playing. The good thing was, it turns out, I never lost my edge in playing volleyball. I always had a secret smirk when I placed a spike perfectly into a Vollleyball varsity member’s face. What’s best is when their coach sees me execute a perfect play without even breaking sweat whilst most of his players can’t even block a ball to save their lives. In my mind, I thought it served them right for choosing politics over talent.
I played college tennis and volleyball on-the-side till I injured my shoulder in my final year at that college. I developed tendonitis because, fool that I am, didn’t do the required stretching before the game. I busted my shoulder while serving for breakpoint.
It was a good thing, I guess, since I was leaving for Diliman the following semester. It took a whole year for my shoulder to heal.

A CONSTANT COMPANION
After my shoulder healed, I still played volleyball whenever I could. Sometimes I went to the park or the barangay court to see if there were any guys playing. The best types to play against are the gay guys. Why? They usually don’t give a f*** who they’re playing against, unlike boys – they don’t pull their spikes when pitted against us girls. Hardcore volleyball players disdain pity-play. Guys think that playing half-assed against girls is a form of being nice. Nge. If I wanted “nice” playing, I would’ve looked for elementary students. Besides, gay guys turn volleyball into a work of art. If you’re looking for the perfect arc before the spike, watch a gay guy playing volleyball. Antataas tumalon, ang lalakas pumalo. So instead of trying to block the ball (good luck) you’re left in a kind of breathless awe. Unfortunately, this just gives you enough time to watch the ball hit the pavement with a resounding thud.

ALWAYS AND FOREVER
It has been years since I last played a good volleyball game. Nowadays, I just can’t seem to find time for anything other than work. However, writing and reading this blog has brought me back to my carefree days. The best thing about it is, I think from now on, whenever I feel like everything’s just turned shitty and bleak, I can always read this post, and remember. There is one love affair that will always be a constant through my life and for me, that’s always something I can smile about.

Fine Arts buddies and other college pals at Court B
fooling around in between plays

sorry for the poor-quality images,
these photos were taken by a manual SLR camera, developed (by me, with not enough fixer, hence the over-exposed blacks&whites), scanned and resized.
yuck. really looked like a geek back then. :)

Missive to melancholy

2008-07-09T00:45:00.000-07:00

Dear Loneliness
I know you’ve noticed that I’m not happy that you’re around too often. I’m sorry. The truth is, I’m trying my best to break away from you. Don’t get me wrong; it’s not that I don’t appreciate everything you’ve done for me. You’ve helped me more than you’ll ever know.
Remember the time when I couldn’t find myself? You were my constant companion and because of that, together we eventually found what I was looking for. You helped me learn more about what I wanted in life and how I should go about getting it than any other melancholy emotion. You helped me get over my broken hearts, and glue the pieces back together. You were always around when I had nobody, and for me, that’s the mark of a true friend. The best part of it all was, you wanted nothing in return.
However, as with everything in life, I have changed. I no longer want you near me. I realized that the more time we spend together, the more I get isolated from the rest of the world. I don’t want that to happen anymore. I still have dreams of meeting the perfect one, my lightning strike and I don’t think that would happen with you around. We just all get to a point in life that we want more than what we’re accustomed to, want more than what is expected of us, and I can’t have those with you holding me back. I hope you won’t think badly of me because inspite of all this, I still want to remain your friend.
I honestly think, in my heart of hearts, someday you’ll find someone who used to be like me, who’ll cherish and treasure your company the way I used to.
We both believe in Destiny so I hope you’ll believe me when I say that I know there’s someone for everybody in this world and someday, you’ll find yours too. It just so happens that I wasn't the one fated for you. Don’t be sad, these things have a way of always working out. Hope you understand.
See you around (or not)

Under The Radar

2008-05-29T01:33:00.000-07:00

Starting today, I will follow a regimen to save mine self from this hole I’m digging into. I will establish and follow these parameters so I can at least maintain a sense of dignity and self-preservation, when it comes to you.

I will not log on to my Friendster account first thing in the morning to check if you’ve been online.
Trying to refresh the Home page every 10 minutes is not helping my already annoying obsessive-compulsive nature. I’ve realized that keeping myself from clicking your profile when it seems that you haven’t been logging on takes the same amount of willpower as trying not to breathe for 5 minutes. However, in keeping with my newly-established "self-rules", I’ ll try to see if I can survive asphyxiation anyway.

I will not purposefully wander into your side of the room, starting today.
I’m running out of excuses and people to have idle chats with, while I’m constantly craning my neck and eyeing my peripherals just to get a glimpse of you. Honestly, I think that’s the reason for the constant migraine I’ve been having these past months.

I will not moon around while staring at nothing nor talk like I’ve swallowed a microphone, every time I think you’re in the near vicinity, just so you’ll notice me.
In relation to this, I will not talk like the smart-ass I usually am. I only did that intentionally, on the off chance that you were listening and might be impressed. Neither will I try to show you a false front, so you’ll get the impression that I’m something other than who and what I am. That kind of effort takes a toll, even if it’s not immediately noticeable. I know my eyes are turning squinty and my hair’s being more unmanageable, from too much thinking of grandiose schemes, on my part.

I am tired of starting each day wishing I could talk to you and tired of ending it wishing that I did have the guts to talk to you, when I had the chance.
I know hearts like mine are getting fewer and fewer, what with today’s almost abnormal rate of people getting to know each other and “getting it on” in record time, but, what can I do? I am this way and have been ever since and I don’t think I will ever be otherwise. What a foolish way to love.
Nevertheless, wretch that I am, I still don’t consider myself a lost cause, hence, this regimen.
I want to think of myself for a change, not only of you – though I guess, I never should have thought of you in the first place, not in this way - because I know it can never be. So, starting today, I’m leaving you out of my heart and keeping you out of my mind, I’ve so many issues that I don’t need another one.
Not that you’d care, you haven’t even noticed, anyway.

The Ghost

2008-02-04T04:57:00.000-08:00

This composition was originally intended and made, for my band's CD jacket. however, it just looked so good, i decided to redo it and just make it into a webpost. hope y'all like it.

Mundong Noypi: UFO Sighting in Pampanga

2007-10-30T21:53:00.000-07:00

Mundong Noypi: UFO Sighting in Pampanga

Death of a friend

2007-04-25T23:20:00.000-07:00

I stare at my writing pen, now mottled gray and green with disuse. With dawning regret, I reach out and cradle its desecrated body. I wonder how could a once-treasured friend been left to wither and rot in apparent disregard. As my tears fall on its moldy body, my pen gives a barely-felt quiver. It might have been remembering the days when it still had the power to create worlds of fiction and prose, or it might have been a last struggle for air, before death finally claimed it. While I ponder its fate, I felt a sigh escape my palm, and in that sunny afternoon, while I held it in my arms, my pen finally died. Wiping tears of sorrow, I think of a fitting eulogy to describe how a simple pen has given everything and more, but still, its end just became a triviality. As my thoughts commenced, i threw my once-pen's body into the trash bin. Then, as in days past, I shrugged and turned away and started typing a story on the keyboard.

merely to pass the time

2007-04-14T15:10:00.000-07:00

for someone that i feel strongly for....

i have had this dilemma for quite a few days now. i will be leaving soon and i don't quite know how to say goodbye, or, if i should say goodbye at all. it's been two years and my heart has been yours ever since our first meeting. unfortunately, we are still on the same ground we were on before anything ever started, on separate ends of the world.

whatever they may say about goodbyes being some sort of a beginning, it means nothing to me but a sad, soul-wracking parting.

i will be leaving you without making any distinction, any impression that would mean something to you, no significance whatsoever. how despondent that such an irony would happen to me, to think that for the better part of two years, you were my heart's beat.
i think i have always loved you, but always, in the background.

when i leave, i hope you remember me, not my shortcomings, nor my fumbles, but those experiences we did share, in laughter, in tears, and even in indifference.

when i go, see me not as a spurned soul but as a hopeless romantic. when i go, don't recall that i was your annoying offkey radio but that i was the one who taught you how to make your fingers dance on the chord fields. when i go, forget that i was always the prankster but remember that i always wanted to see you smile, hence the jokes at my expense. when i go, know that my art wasn't in the least meant for flaunting but only for your viewing. when i go, do not take my constant readiness to do your bidding as a pathetic excuse to be near you, the truth is, i was willing and obliged to help you out.

i think it is pretty obvious that things didn't turn out the way i expected them to be, at least, not between us. however, there is no remorse nor regret on my part. whatever this confession fails to convey, know that i will always cherish each and every one of my memories with you, though they are largely composed of the melancholy and the sundered.

i will be leaving soon and i choose not to say goodbye. remember me as you are wont to, remember me as you please. i will not force nor begrudge your choices, the right is not mine to do so in the first place.

when i leave though, promise me this, that there will be no parting words, no goodbyes. nothing to remind me of leaving you at all.
like nothing ever happened.

way back home

2007-04-09T22:30:00.000-07:00

i saw you when i went back. it wasn't the encounter i've been dreaming about, for the longest time. there were no deafening heartbeats, like the mad drumming of wild jungle tribes, there were no prolonged breaths that could have left me hanging on the verge of dying from asphyxia.
in truth, i think you just did a subtle doubletake, not even worth noting, and maybe, it wasn't even from recognition. perhaps, we've grown past the stage of having even miniscule regard for each other. perhaps, you've even forgotten me.

i read your letters last night

2006-11-13T06:40:00.000-08:00

i have never put much stock in words. words are the easiest things to break.
there is nothing concrete nor tangible to tie words with.
nothing to assure us of oaths and promises spoken being kept and followed through.
however, as much as we say that words are fleeting and incorporeal, they can inflict the most damage to a person.
a hurtful statement or a careless phrase can kill self-belief and can stamp out inspiration with the same effectiveness that a beating can mete out physical pain.
i would have you know that your words have been killing me, little by little, the same way that a chisel chips away at a stone block.
with the pieces of myself being whisked away, bit by bit, into the unknown ether, i hope you realize how much your words have done their part, in draining a soul of its luster.

thirteen years is too long to grieve

2006-05-25T00:44:00.000-07:00

I've always thought that the pain would go away, in time. now i wonder if it ever will. it's the kind of pain that would hit you when you least expect it, when you think that it can never bother you again. this is when the absolute confidence that comes with forgetfulness just tumbles down, block, after hard earned block.

There is just no getting over you.

They say time heals all wounds. be that as it may, i say, but there are some of us with hearts broken so utterly, the wounds running so deep, that even the scars hurt for a whole lifetime.

I see you, in dreams, usually, then the pain is there again, in waking.

I wonder where you are now, if you're ok, if you're happy. i hope you are not like me, in love for so long that the love no longer nurtures me, but is now a slow, gradual death.

I miss you. i miss you so much that sometimes the effort of going on, of breathing is too much and it is only because of my too-frayed willpower that i can go on.

I miss you so much that it never stops hurting.

Everyone's wrong it seems, time doesn't heal all wounds for it failed to heal mine.

HATE MAIL

2006-05-13T06:30:00.000-07:00

I HATE YOU. I AM WRITING THIS SO I CAN SAY "I HATE YOU" WITHOUT ANY HESITATION NOR THE USUAL PREAMBLES.

I HATE YOU. i hate that you don't notice how my eyes go all vague and glassy when we meet in the halls. i hate it that you don't know anything about me, and i, about you. i hate it that we still have to conform to the world at large, or at least you still do, hence we keep away. i hate it that you long for someone else, when i'm here at your beck and call. i hate it that we don't talk nor walk in the same dimension, although we are of the same world, we are at the opposite poles.
i hate you. i hate you. i hate you because you let me lose my wits when you're about.
i hate you when i lose my train of thought and eloquence when you come near, and i'm left standing looking like a numbskull.

I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU. i hate you because i don't want to feel this way.
i don't want to spend every day in limbo, with you as my sole companion. i hate you since you took my heart away from me and never gave it back. i hate you because whatever i do, i cannot hate you, not the way i want to. i hate you since whatever may happen i still want you and i still believe in you, despite and inspite of what you are and what you want.

I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU. i hate you because i have a relationship with you in my head, nevermind that it's one-sided.

i hate you with a passion and yet my passion is you.

i hate you because no matter how much i say that i would hate you from the bottom of my heart, it would all be for naught.
you've already taken my heart and there's really nowhere left that my hate would come from.
i guess you've figured that out when you took it, and i would hate you for that, if i could have.

Restart

2006-01-18T23:19:00.000-08:00

i have finally quit my job.
a relatively high end profession, compared to most, but, the noose has gradually tightened for so many years now that it has finally reached the point that every breath i took was a constant struggle for air.

i have been putting off this resigning business for a long time now. when i think about it, i really have no clue why i put it off for so long. there really was no point in staying. i guess what got me hanging by a thread were the people that i got to call friends and of course, the monetary compensation. however, i thought about it long and hard, and i realized that real friends will always be with you, and the monetary compensation, well, can be procured somewhere else.

so why did i stay for so long in a job that i really no longer wanted? i honestly cannot say.

on my last days of employment, i noticed that even as i woke up early to avoid being late, i always had to battle the compulsion of staying at home and watching a dvd marathon, even if i was already dressed and ready to go. and, even then, i detain myself till the last minute (which completely cancels the point of waking up early in the first place.
alas, i think everything caught up to me at once.

there was no point in prolonging nor fighting the inevitable. everything has become monochrome and ritual that nothing held any mystery and amazement anymore. everything just sort of stopped having any meaning and i inevitably developed a gaping emptiness of being that was so consuming, i knew that i had to do something fast, before all of my sense of self was diminished.
as a result, i handed in that resignation letter that has been sitting in my head for two years now.

now i'm in my room, writing another memoir. i think i'm past the depression stage. i realized that work is like a drug, you'd have to go through similar withdrawal symptoms. i don't think it means that i didn't make the right decision. on the contrary, it feels like a cleansing ritual.

strangely enough, even though i'm currently unemployed and is technically considered a "bum", i don't feel the emptiness that i felt when i was still a part of society's so-called '' productive faction".

i had a conversation with a friend a while ago. she's also taking a relative time off from work. she said it's really nice to sit back and watch the world again. i couldn't help but agree. in the four years that i have been a slave to the economy, i have forgotten the simple joys of life that are usally taken for granted.
now, i'm sitting down, taking a breather, just watching the world move without me, at least, for a time. i must admit, it really does feel good to take that deep breath without the noose tightening around my neck.
since i quit, i have written 3 songs in one day, which is more than the number of songs i have written in 5 months. my creative capabilities, are finally flowing again, as this entry bears witness to. maybe being drained from work's mind numbing stress and demands took away my capacity to create and be inspired.
i am hopeful that i will get it back though.

i am working on perfecting the concept and skill of taking my time about things, without the dictates of a deadline and a timetable.

it's so good to feel alive again.

finally, i'm looking forward to the new day, after it having lost its wonder for a good part of two years. tomorrow, i'm going to wake up early, stand on our balcony and wait for the day to begin anew. i just want the day to know that i'm just so glad to welcome it back and witness this big, big smile on my face.

The Mantra

2005-09-28T22:59:00.000-07:00

we don't need circumstance to hold us back. we don't need realities to bind us.
everytime i see you, i force myself to believe these words. if i could just treat pride and dignity without regard, i would have approached you long before. as it happens, my bravado only extends to writing. my virtual pen has recently been possessed and can't seem to stop writing about you. you, my elusive song, the unaware subject of my heartbeats. this may just be imagination in prose, but, at least allow me the luxury, for in reality, we are just distant shadows. allow me my world of the surreal and melodramatic for in truth, it's the only time i can say i'm happy.

author's note ... self -berating, at its worst, or should i say, its finest..

another one of those quarter life uncertainties

2005-09-28T22:47:00.000-07:00

the rift
we all get lost along the way sometimes. it may sound comforting to know that we share the same travesty that everyone joins, at least once in this life, but, if there was a way to deviate from this inevetability, then i would.
i am in this state right now. i'm in a limbo that has left me screaming and tearing my hair, wondering where in the world did i go wrong, why have all my plans of granduer and glory gone awry?
many a potential virtouso, a possible maestro, a probable adept have gone through this stage and lost the battle against all consuming helplessness. may i get through this roiling attack of self doubt and trial unscathed and whole.
i hope in my heart of hearts that you do too.

on queue at the vendo machine

2005-09-28T20:56:00.000-07:00

i wish i could ask you out for a cup of coffee. even if the reason you'd go with me is not a willingness for company nor just a simple attraction. I would be content to be the object of your curiousity.

i am tired of writing love letters to the wind. i am tired of directing words to deaf ears and smiles to blind eyes.

wishes can never be wings they say, move on and find someone else. there are things that can never be, i know. but for once, i don't want to think of what can never be's, i don't want to consider the consequences.

i do hope you'd go out with me, if only for a cup of coffee, even if i'll just be an object of curiousity.

uncast; at post-Charles de Lint reading

2005-09-27T20:11:00.000-07:00

this is my ode to a book i read many years ago, Charles de Lint's Memory and Dream

uncast

you unnerve me when i feel that i cannot be flustered
you unhinge me when i feel i cannot be moved
my thoughts are composed of a million sedimentary layers
yet you dig through each and everyone of them
with the seeming ease of routine

i wonder why you do not seem to notice,
when one of the things i like most about you is your sensitivity
you betray my convictions when i feel i cannot be wrong
yet i cannot complain when i knew from the start that you would be fleeting

and when i will see you again, i will already have known
that one moment, you'll be by my side
and the next you would be gone,

like a cherished memory

cold frap afternoons; returned mail

2005-09-26T18:22:00.000-07:00

POST REBUKED
your post has been returned, please verify if your mailing address is correct.

start message:

i miss you. even when i'm with you, it seems that we are in separate parts of the world. reaching out to you seems out of the question since you do not seem to welcome spending time with me anymore. i regret that our easy companionship has been lost, maybe forever. however, even as it may be the cause of our rift, i do not regret letting you know that you have my heart. now you can do with it as you please, i have accepted the consequence the moment i decided to put it in your hands.

end message:

A letter to #

2005-09-26T18:15:00.000-07:00

We've met. We were casually introduced by a mutual acquaintance. You have passed me by the halls for more than a year now, I have occasionally caught you standing in the parking lot, getting your usual whiff of the menthols or lights (of which flavor, i am not in the least certain, perhaps you might even go for the reds), during worknights.

In the unlikely event that your attention is caught, you may notice that when we meet, my stare slides beyond you to focus on the road. You may have given it a passing thought that when we happen to cross paths, i may not give the cursory greeting and ignore you completely.
Veiwed from a visual aspect, you are nothing to me, just a temporary face, just a fleeting soul.

I am lying of course. I work my way through the rigors of life by posing and playacting. everything I represent is a big fat lie.
Should you turn your head when you pass by me, you would catch me, unabashed, staring at your back. Should you stay a while and observe, you would know that I don't actually smoke but spend time in your smoking area just the same.

It's funny how those we usually think are meant for us, those we feel are perfect and destined for our ever-searching souls end up with those who we know are completely and utterly undeserving. God bless them lucky souls.
Perchance you speak to me, I will appear unmoved. In the impossible event that one day we might exchange a word, I will look apathetic.

Everything's a lie of course.

Il Muerte de La Corazon ( the death of the heart)

2005-09-25T11:55:00.000-07:00

YOU'VE JUST KILLED ME. HOW DOES IT FEEL THEN? YOU TOOK A LIFE, NOW MY DEATH IS IN YOUR HANDS, MEANINGLESS AND UNREASONABLE AS IT MAY BE, YOU STILL WENT THROUGH AND INITIATED MY MURDER. WAS I THAT INCONSEQUENTIAL TO YOU? WAS I THAT MINUTE? HOW COULD YOU NOT FEEL GUILT, NOR REMORSE WHEN YOU APPARENTLY KNEW THAT YOU WERE MY SIGNIFICANT OTHER? THE DAGGER YOU STABBED ME WITH WAS NOT MADE OF STEEL, IT WASN'T MADE FROM ANY METAL KNOWN TO MAN. YOU KILLED ME WITH A DAGGER MADE OF INDIFFERENCE AND SPURN. DID YOU FEEL PLEASURE STABBING ME IN THE HEART? DID YOU NOT FEEL MY LIFEBLOOD SEEP OUT, WARM AND RICH, INTO THE COLD, CRUEL HOLD OF MORTEM? HOW DO YOU FEEL NOW?

if wishes were wings, pigs could fly

2005-09-18T01:39:00.000-07:00

i've never done anything. everything i have gone through and done so far has been a mediocre imitation. if someone asked me, what's the craziest thing i've done lately, i probably would just make up some bogus story and hope they wouldn't ask about the details. it's funny how trivial my problem is. most of the planet's worried about stuff like the economy, politics and the environment but here i am, whining about what a bore my life is.

i can't help it.

i could not decide whether my life has become a comedy or worse, a tragedy of UNepic proportions. at this point in time, if one looks back at what has become of her life, there are only two basic reactions. first and if one's lucky, the person would throw back their heads and thank the Almighty with all their hearts since everything they've set out to achieve has been and more than likely will go their way. the second reaction, if one's a totally unfortunate tidbit of the universe (as i seem to be), is just to bury their heads in the sand and hope that nobody ever remembers their names again (ostrich syndrome).

gone is the youthful idealism of the "Carpe Diem" (hooray the latin vocabulary) perspective. it has fled as youth has fled from me. i have passed my quarter life crisis a year ago (assuming i live until 100 yrs.) and it seems i have already reached my peak on an obscure early 20's age and never noticed it fly by me. the thing is, it's depressing to speculate that after that fateful but brief time in my life, everything will start going downhill from there.

i would have loved to hold my head high at one of those much-fussed about high school reunions. it would have been great if the conversations would start with ohhhhhssss, ahhhhsss and wows......... i've always imagined i would have been a big time artist by now or at least in a famous band. so much for youthful idealism. it is overrated anyway (in my heart of hearts, i would always be an artist and a musician).

AND AS I'M AT MY LOWEST RIGHT NOW, LET ME WALLOW IN SELF PITY.
the world rejects me, it always has. that or it's playing a mean, mean joke. i am sick and tired of all the waiting and anticipation for something big to happen. let me make it clear that i am not merely waiting, as i might have implied. i actually have a job. the problem is, it's not the job i wanted nor strove for. it is at this point in life where you begin to wonder where it all went wrong, or what you didn't do.
if my regrets were visible, they would stretch out into the horizon, going farther than the eye could ever see.

(let this not happen to you, reader, for i wish you well)

tell me not that my life is still full of possibilities for i would only believe that once i reach my destination. at this point, it's not a even a far-off speck. i believe it's there somewhere but until i see it, and hold it in my hands, DON'T give me words of encouragement nor optimistic tirades. DONT EXPECT ME TO PERK UP. give me the chance to exercise my right to grieve and brood.

i am tired now and i don't want to rant anymore. don't worry about me though,
i am simply burnt out,
i will be fine again someday
but for now, please leave me alone.

Imago

2005-09-17T03:09:00.000-07:00

........ and to my fellow fans

when i first came across this band, i promised myself that one day i'm going to make them ad designs. finally, after 5 years (whoa) of being a fan, i managed to find time (and thank God for that) to create the long overdue designs. unfortunately i couldn't find any high resolution pictures i liked so i had to make do with pixelated copies. anyhoo, i couldn't increase the pixels otherwise risking more image distortion so i played with colors a bit and, using of course, my current black and white poster style (it will get old someday, i'm sure)....... i have to say thanks mainly to titikpinoy.com and to others, etc, etc..
(had to take them pictures from somewhere.....)

IMAGO
aia de leon, tim cacho, zach lucero and myrene academia

i don't get to see their gigs, nor do i know them personally

but i' ve been singing their songs for five years now and i think will still be singing them, till my voice will nothing be but a dry and brittle sound ..................

my very own magic card

2005-09-10T06:57:00.000-07:00

I MADE A RARE CARD FOR MYSELF. MAGIC THE GATHERING STYLE :)

The Vociferation

2005-09-05T19:33:00.000-07:00

The Rave in Vociferation

(the monolithic writing)

i want to undo my cynicism, i want to leave my angst behind. my Gaiae deserves more from me than ceaseless and meaningless pessimism. there is life beyond this rock, there is sense beyond this reasoning, may i be blessed enough to see it, in this lifetime.

i do not want to be passed by like the rest of my generation, delegated to taking care of the new life spawned by domestication and wedlock. May I not be mistaken for having anything against that - this is just a statement that I want more. i do not want to be left behind by the train of dreams, that of which we always wanted to be when we grew up, staring out from its windows.

i have finally made a pact with myself, to tackle life before it speeds right through and passes me by like a burgeoning behemoth. if it can not be tackled, then i will grab a handhold and be whipped along for the ride. whiplash and slipstream be damned. i will not settle for life that is less than what i have intended for myself. i was not born to be mediocre. my hands and my mind were meant for more than the usual convention - a sunless cell that most are content to conform and belong to. my imagination will not be daydreams forever, neither will they be locked up in norms or dogma. within me is the power to create worlds. within me is my Creator's gift. i will not bow down to the petty inconvenience of looking too high up.

This I Swear.

through a fish eye lens

2005-08-10T19:10:00.000-07:00

the world, viewed through a simulated, cinematic, often underrated fish eye lens

(warped and obscure, like looking through a watery glass prison of those burnished swimming denizens)

one has to wonder what is real, one has to deduce what is not.

in the life lived by a seemingly hopeless case of the spurned, i have been left with more than your average share of spare time. sadly, my blog has been left to rot in idleness. if i were to compare it to substance, it would be that discarded old spartan flip flop you threw in your neighbor's backyard and is now growing its own terranium on the surface.
i did try to write, many times, the attempts now all become a ceaseless, unending blur of an unblinking stare alternating between the monitor and the keyboard. it is not that i don't have anything to write about. actually my head is always full to bursting with thoughts and ideas that they seem to bounce out of it before i can capture them in writing. certainly i have all the usual signs of being a more than interesting writer, if not a good or engaging one. moi, the spurned- where can one get more agonizing, sob stories to get my heartwrenching, soulwracking literary cries from, if not my own somber love stories?

unsent untried unread

2005-06-01T14:30:00.000-07:00

I have been perusing my diary and I found this unsent letter I made years ago, it was initially meant to be mailed off with a self-consuming resolution but sadly it just became another relic on the shelf.......(please forgive the grammar and shift of language, this has been composed years ago - with my as yet unreliable command of words - and I chose to post it as it is, not only as a testament of my roots as a writer but also perhaps to preserve its sincerity....)

eres tu

kay tagal na tayong hindi nag uusap. buhay ka pa ba? ni hindi ka naman kasi gumagawa ng paraan upang makapag-krus muli ang ating mga landas. nanghihinayang ako sa naging takbo ng ating relasyon. tinangay na ito ng hangin.
sa kabila nito, hinahanap kita ngayon di lamang dahil sa wala akong makausap kundi pati na rin sa nagungulila ako sa natatangi nating mga diskurso.

alam mo, andami-dami kong kuwento. malamang pag nagkita uli tayo, malilimutan ko ang lahat nito.

nais ko lang iparating sa iyo na kahit napakatagal kong nawala sa sirkulasyon ng normal na mundo ay nasa mabuti naman akong kalagayan.

furthermore (please forgive my switch of language, i really do write better in english, so they say), i also want you to know that I really am frustrated to have no one to share my innermost thoughts with. though this does not necessarily mean that I've become a recluse and have shunned the world at large (although it oft feels the case), it does imply that there is a serious lack of intellectually stimulating individuals from where i'm at right now (there goes your esteem of the so called "iskul ng mga iskolar").
what I missed most about you was the fact that we could talk about anything - our conversations not waning with the lack of spark or enthusiasm. our talks would range from the most inane to the serious, from the most miniscule nil to everything that consisted the controversial commercial that we (foolishly) considered our lives, and it wouldn't make a difference, we would always be happy. it is so hilarious that I really and honestly thought we would remain the closest of confidants until we reached the withered and toothless fuss of old age.

missing you attacks me most when the night reaches its deepest, darkest black, by then, thoughts seem to jumble out from every visible and hidden crevice within my head. these thoughts, however much muddled, i could always organize and stackpile with you around.
it really is a pity that circumstance would not permit us to relive even a miniscule moment of what we used to share.

although the past is something that is lost forever, i wish fervently that events would transpire for once so i could go back and correct my mistakes. please do not doubt me in this matter, for i feel very much sincere. almost certainly you too have made pretty embarrassing and even regrettable follies that could make you capable of sympathizing with the way i feel now.

i must admit that news about you have been disappointingly seldom (and this, even at my constant effort of badgering, ferreting and prodding information from our past acquiantances). i must say though, that if info morsels do reach my ears, the majority tend to be shocking if not downright unbelievable. it seems discernment of what is true and what is not also comes hand in hand with curiousity.
in spite of this, i earnestly hope you have found what you have been looking for, those many aeons ago, when i knew you. however much i fear that if and when you find those answers, you will ultimately and utterly forget me, i still wish you contentment and happiness.
i confess that writing you really took an effort on my part, my pen has found the courage where my phone has not.

i cannot end this letter without telling you again that i am sorry because that is all that i am. considering the magnitude of hurt and betrayal i have caused you, believe me when i say that i know how a word is totally inadequate and oft times meaningless but that is all i can offer you right now.
i also apologize if this letter may seem unintelligible to you, it certainly seems so to me, after a third reading, i may have mistaken a broken stream of thought for eloquence.

please forgive me.

One of Those Monologues

2005-01-30T13:16:00.000-08:00

Jacqueline B. Caccam. Jackie Caccam. Mudfish. Caccam.

WHERE SOUND DOES NOT ECHO

2005-01-22T15:17:00.000-08:00

MY AFFECTIONS MAY NOT BE EVIDENT BUT I ASSURE YOU, THEY ARE CONSTANT AND UNNERRING. YOU DO NOT NEED TO ALWAYS SEE THE SUN TO KNOW THAT IT IS IN THE SKY. MY DEVOTION TO YOU IS OF THE SAME LEVEL, CONSISTENT AND UNQUESTIONING, THOUGH YOU ARE OBLIVIOUS, THOUGH YOU ARE INDIFFERENT, THOUGH YOU MAY NOT CARE.

YOU HELD MY HAND IN THAT WAY YOU ALWAYS DO, WITHOUT ANY MEANING, WITHOUT MALICE. MY HEART WOULD FLUTTER AS IF I WAS ON THE EDGE A PRECIPICE, ONE THAT IS FULL OF WHAT IF'S, MAYBE'S AND COULD HAVE BEEN'S. YOU DO NOT SENSE MY HEART THOUGH, NOT IN THAT FLEETING TOUCH. YOU, WHO HASN'T FELT ANYTHING FOR SOMEONE ELSE, YOU, WHO HAVE SHUNNED THOSE WHO LOOK AT YOU WITH MY EYES.

I HAVE ALWAYS WISHED THAT THE IMPOSSIBLE WOULD HAPPEN, THAT LIGHTNING WOULD STRIKE. I HAVE ALWAYS DREAMED THAT YOU, MY SIGNIFICANT OTHER, WOULD ONE DAY SEE THROUGH MY PRETENSE, THROUGH THE MAYA. WHY DO YOU NOT CATCH MY TELLTALE GLANCES? IF YOU MUST KNOW, I ALWAYS GUIDE YOUR STEPS WITH MY SIGHT.

I HAVE NEVER IMAGINED THAT I WOULD BECOME ECHO, AND YOU, MY NARCISSUS, FOREVER A TALE OF DESPAIR, OF TRAGEDY. I AM AWARE THAT IT COULD NEVER BE OTHERWISE, WHEREIN THE AFFECTION WOULD BE RETURNED, NOT IGNORED. HOWEVER, I DO NOT THINK YOU WILL EVER SEE ME AS I AM, YOUR ETERNAL SLAVE, DAMNED TO FOREVER STAY OUTSIDE THE VICINITY OF YOUR REGARD.

IN ALL FAIRNESS

2005-01-22T15:15:00.000-08:00

I HAVE LEARNED TO BE CONTENT WITH THE LEFTOVERS.
PATHETIC AND INCONCEIVABLE AS THAT MAY BE, ONE HAS TO MAKE DO WITH WHAT SHE CAN AVAIL OF. I AM NOT COMPLAINING, I AM PAST THE STAGE OF WHINING AND CRYING. AS IT IS, I AM BEYOND THAT. I HAVE RECENTLY DISCOVERED THAT IT IS USELESS TO RANT AND RAVE AGAINST THE INJUSTICES OF LIFE WHEN IN FACT, I HAVEN'T DONE ANYTHING TO DESERVE OTHERWISE.
IN ALL FAIRNESS, DESTINY HAS OFFERED ME NUMEROUS OPPORTUNITIES TO ESTABLISH A FOUNDATION - ONE THAT CAN ASSURE ME A FUTURE, IF NOT OF THE IDEAL PLAN , THEN AT LEAST W/ A SEMBLANCE OF IT. UNFORTUNATELY, IT IS WTH GREAT SADNESS AND UNBEARABLE SHAME TO ADMIT THAT I DIDN'T EVEN TAKE THE RISK REQUIRED FOR SUCH A PRIVILEGE.

SUBORDINATELY THOUGH, I HAVE BECOME AN EXPERT IN DISTINGUISHING THE JUICY MORSELS FROM THE OTHERWISE HEARTBREAKING RESULT OF MY VENTURES, I HAVE DECIDED TO LIST THEM ALL- OR AT LEAST, WHAT I CAN RECALL. THIS IS A SORT OF THERAPY FOR ME, A CONSOLATION THAT I CAN ALWAYS LOOK TO, WHEN LIFE AND THRIVING BECOMES TOO HARD TO ENDURE.

NOTE ONE:
YOU KNOW I EXIST, OR, AT LEAST I THINK SO. I HAVE PROVEN THAT YOU HOLD A MODICUM OF REGARD FOR ME, BASED ON YOUR UNCHARACTERISTIC ACT LAST CHRISTMAS. IT WAS ONE OF THOSE DAYS THAT USUALLY TURN OUT GLUMMER THAN WHEN IT STARTED. I WAS THINKING IT WAS GOING TO TAKE A LOT OF CAFFEINE TO GET ME THROUGH THE NIGHT. I HAVEN'T BEEN SPEAKING TO YOU LATELY, I FIND IT ONLY DEPRESSES ME WHEN THE EXCHANGE OF WORDS ONLY RANGE FROM THE MUNDANE HI'S AND HELLO'S. WHY IS IT THAT I COULD EXTEND AND STRETCH A CONVERSATION TO ITS LIMITS WHEN INITIATED W/ ANOTHER? WITH YOU, I FIND IT A TRIAL THAT RIVALS MOST OF THE IMPOSSIBLE EPIC QUESTS. PERHAPS IT'S JUST THE FACT THAT WE HAVE NOTHING IN COMMON AND THAT EITHER YOU FIND ME TOO BORING OR TOO NEUROTIC TO CONVERSE WITH. HOWEVER, ON THAT SPECIFIC NIGHT, YOU TOOK THE FIRST STEP. THERE I WAS, EXPECTING ANOTHER SELF-INITIATED TONGUE LASHING, WHEN I HEARD YOUR DISTINCT VOICE BEHIND ME, CALLING MY NAME. YOU WISHED ME A MERRY CHRISTMAS. PERHAPS IT WAS JUST A PASSING THING FOR YOU, BUT THERE WAS NO NEED TO SAY IT, THE CHANGE OF MY MOOD WAS EVIDENT TO EVERYONE AROUND ME, THAT SIMPLE GESTURE MADE MY NIGHT.

NOTE TWO:
LET ME STATE THE FACT THAT WE DON'T GO WELL WITH EACH OTHER. WE DON'T LOOK GOOD TOGETHER. WE DON'T MESH. SADLY, THIS APPLIES FOR THE PHYSICAL AS WELL AS FOR THE INTELLECTUAL ASPECT. I THINK FATE IS JUST ACTING CRUEL AND LOOKING FOR A GOOD LAUGH WHENEVER WE FIND OURSELVES WITHIN UNAVOIDABLE SITUATIONS. IF THIS HAPPENS, ALTHOUGH WE ARE IN THE SAME PLACE AND TIME, THERE'S ALWAYS A CATCH. WE WENT OUT AS A GROUP, NOT BECAUSE YOU WANTED TO, BUT BECAUSE WE WERE OBLIGED TO. YOU, OF COURSE WERE WITH THE PEOPLE I LEAST MINGLE WITH. WHAT A SHAME, THERE'S ALWAYS A CLASSIC CASE OF THE " SO NEAR YET SO FAR" SYNDROME BETWEEN US. OF COURSE, I DOUBT IF YOU EVEN GIVE THE MATTER A SECOND THOUGHT. HOWEVER, DURING THIS IOTA OF TIME, AGAIN, YOU INSTIGATED YOUR RARE FLASHES OF EMPATHY. THERE WE WERE, SITTING AS A COMPANY, BUT NOT AS A GROUP. I WAS BORED OUT OF MY MIND, AS USUAL, SOMEHOW BEING MORE DEPRESSED BY THE FACT THAT YOU, BEING SO NEAR, ONLY REMINDS ME MORE OF HOW I COULDN'T TOUCH YOU. I THOUGHT IF THIS IS JUST THE CASE THEN I WOULD BE BETTER OFF ALONE. SO, I GATHERED UP MY TATTERED PRIDE AND LEFT. BEREFT, ALONE, DEPRIVED, I CHOSE TO STARE AT THE MOON ON MY OWN. IRONICALLY, IT IS DURING THESE TIMES THAT ONE NOTICES THAT ALTHOUGH YOU ARE TECHNICALLY SHARING YOUR SOLITUDE WITH THE MOON, IT TOO IS ALONE, STARING BACK AT YOU. SO MUCH FOR CONSOLATION. ALAS, I DECIDED TO GO BACK, TO YOU, AND TO ANOTHER ROUND OF MASSOCHISM. YOU NEVER EVEN LOOKED AT ME TWICE. IT WAS ONLY LATER THAT I FOUND OUT FROM SOMEONE, YOU WERE ASKING IF I WAS OK. ONE HAS TO WONDER HOW SUCH SMALL MEASURE OF REGARD COULD WEIGH SO MUCH IN MY BOOK.

NOTE THREE:
IT DOESN'T SEEM AS IF YOU FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE AROUND ME. WE DON'T SPEND TIME TOGETHER, WE DON'T EVEN TALK THAT OFTEN. HOWEVER, THERE ARE THOSE RARE TIMES DESTINY GRANTS US A LAPSE FROM IT'S USUALLY CRUEL GAME. WE WERE LEFT ALONE, YOU AND I, HOW, I COULD NOT EVEN REMEMBER, I JUST RECALL TO HAVE BEEN THE ONLY ONE AT THE ROOM WITH YOU AT THAT MOMENT. WE HAD NO CHOICE BUT TO TALK TO EACH OTHER, FOR THE LACK OF A BETTER THING TO DO. I COULD NOT REMEMBER HOW IT STARTED, I JUST REMEMBER SPENDING AN ENGAGING CONVERSATION WITH YOU, SURPRISINGLY, YOU SEEMED AS IF YOU WERE ENJOYING IT TOO. WE COULD HAVE TALKED ALL NIGHT, IF NOT FOR DESTINY REMEMBERING WE WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO BE TOGETHER. YOU SAID GOODBYE, FINALLY, NOT KNOWING THAT THAT NIGHT WAS ONE OF MY BEST ONES. WE NEVER TALKED AGAIN AFTER THAT EXPERIENCE, PERHAPS YOU KNEW ALL ALONG. I WOULD NEVER KNOW, SOME THINGS ARE BEST LEFT IN THE DARK.

EVEN AS I TRY TO THINK ABOUT IT, IT MAY NOT SEEM MUCH. TO OTHERS, IT MAY EVEN APPEAR LIKE A LIST OF LAUGHABLE SPECULATIONS. I COULDN'T CARE LESS. IN THE STATE I'M IN RIGHT NOW, I WOULD ACCEPT ANY ASSUMPTION, MAY IT BE VAGUE, UNCLEAR, OR EVEN UNTRUE. ONE NEEDS THE PERKS IN LIFE, HOWEVER MINUTE THEY MAY BE, HOWEVER INCONSEQUENTIAL THEY MAY SEEM. YOU SEE, IT'S LIKE COFFEE, EVEN THE LITTLEST SIP CAN HAVE AN EFFECT ON YOU. THIS IS HOW I SEE YOU. YOU ARE MY COFFEE. MY CAFFEINE. I HAVE THIS HOPE, IN MY HEART OF HEARTS, IN MY INNERMOST THOUGHTS, SOMEDAY YOU WOULD CONSIDER MY EFFECT ON YOU THE SAME. YOU DON'T EVEN DRINK COFFEE THOUGH. TOO BAD, IT WOULD HAVE BEEN SOMETHING TO TALK OVER.

The Throng

2004-09-13T16:43:00.000-07:00

i stare. you have this silly smile on your face and even from this far, i sense that you are happy. strolling along, you seem not to notice the crush of the throng, the milling multitudes of night-going freaks. my heart clenches because i know why you look to all the world like someone in love, because you are. "it" has it's arm around you and your hand, encompassing "its" waist. i term it as an "it" because i'm mean, i'm vicious . my heart is in the midst of a cataclysm. i don't want to pretend that i'm not a jealous, unreasoning, doting idiot, because i am.
i am jealous - because i've never seen you smile that way at me. i am unreasoning - because i could not understand why you consented to be with "it" and not me. i am doting- because inspite of it all, despite of it all, i still want you. yet you are oblivious, as you were for all this time. i have this memory of us, one of the few we spent alone, you were laughing about something mundane and i was watching you, in every appearance looking as if i was bored out of my mind, which, of course was a lie. since i met you, i've lived a lie. you see, beneath my mild, indifferent exterior, every sense of my being is captivated by your smile, by the sound of your voice. yet you did not know, you do not know, even now. i remember, i told you once in a joking tone, that i really wish you would find out how it feels to be enthralled by someone. i hope you find out how it feels like to have your breath leave your body everytime that someone comes into your line of sight. i hope you find out how hard it is to keep your eyes from someone, how your neck aches from the constant craning effort of keeping that someone in your peripherals.i hope you find out how it
is to be me. now, looking at you, i am aghast that my wish has been granted, you already know how it feels like to have found someone, unfortunately, that someone isn't me. i knew this day would come though, but i never thought it would be this soon. perhaps when i told you that inevitability, i was subconsciously and secretly hoping you would eventually come to accept me as i am, and welcome my affections. however, as in all tragedies, my heart was left bereft of all hope when you started going out with "it". the tables are turned. i would never know how it feels like to have my breath leave me because you would never smile at me the way you smile at it. i can only look at you from afar, pining, without you knowing, without you caring. maybe this way's better, at least you're happy, you are spared from all my weaknesses, my shortcomings. you are safe from my cynism and satirical outlook on life. my only regret is that i didn't at least tell you how you mean to me, i didn't say anything at all. maybe if i told you, things would have been different, maybe you would have given me a chance. isn't it ironic? i always was the one to go for the extremes. i always was up for a challenge. i just didn't go for you. now i'm within the realm of "what if's", could have's and maybe's. i'll just have to accept that you might have been mine. but truth is, "might's" are always infuriatingly not enough.

IV. The Anti-Climax, A Pining Whiner No More

2004-09-05T23:25:00.000-07:00

FINALLY, IT SEEMS, I'M HIT IN THE HEAD BY A MALLET AND I SEE THE LIGHT
time and time again, I've thanked God that I have a very high opinion of myself. otherwise, I would've just melted into the floor from sheer shame and failure.not to mention all-enveloping frustration. i mean, what does it take for you to recognize me and at least point out the difference between me and an ordinary rock? have you no heart (this said with a scarlett o'hara twang..)
oh well, we don't always get what we want. i'll just have to change my lifestyle in the hopes of forgetting you. i would have to turn my head away everytime you come into my line of sight (this seems really hard since you seem to be all over the place ). i'll just have to live my life like that of the spurned telenovela protagonist, sacrificing love for a measure of pride to remain... perhaps other misadventures with you would eventually come my way but for now, i'll just have to close this book.

III. THE WAY OF THE STOMACH IS THE WAY OF A MASTER

2004-09-05T17:25:00.000-07:00

III. THE WAY OF THE STOMACH IS THE WAY OF A MASTER
WHEN ALL ELSE HAS FAILED, WE RESORT TO THE MOST DESPERATE OF MEASURES. COERCION. FORCE. FOOD. I CHOOSE FOOD. IT IS THE LEAST OBVIOUS TYPE OF BAIT FROM THE THREE, BESIDES, I WOULDN'T WANT TO APPEAR OVERLY DESPERATE. I GET MY CHOSEN PROPS. CHOCOLATE, CHOCOLATE. MAKING THE USUAL ROUNDS AMONGST THE DENIZENS OF THE CIRCLE (A TERM FOR OUR WORK AREA), I CASUALLY STOP BY YOUR STATION AND PROCEED WITH MY CAREFULLY THOUGHT OUT MODUS OPERANDI. PREDICTABLY, YOU NOTICE ME STUFFING MY MOUTH WITH THE THING."WHAT'S THAT?" YOU ASK.UNFORTUNATELY, DIFFICULTY IN SPEAKING IS USUALLY THE AFTER EFFECT OF THE CHOCOLATE'S CARAMEL STICKING TO THE TEETH. THIS RENDERS US POWERLESS TO OPEN THE LIPS FOR THE NORMAL GIRTH FOR DISCOURSE, OTHERWISE, WE RUN THE RISK OF SHOWING A MOUTHFUL OF BROWN GOOK. HENCE, I ANSWER SHOWING THE LEAST OF MY TEETH. "CHCLET, WNTSUM?" (PLEASE DO, I BOUGHT IT SPECIFICALLY FOR YOU). "UH SORRY, I DON'T EAT CHOCOLATE E, STICKS TO THE TEETH.".. STUMPED. ONCE AGAIN, YOU GOT ME STUMPED. ALMOST FORLORNLY, I WALK AWAY. WHAT TYPE OF PERSON DOESN'T EAT CHOCOLATE, I WONDER. THE SAME TYPE OF PERSON WHO DOESN'T NOTICE MY DISPLAYS OF AFFECTION, THAT'S WHAT.

II. HALLWAYS SERVE AS AN OUTPOST AS WELL (THE JEDI AND THE SHARK)

2004-09-05T16:04:00.000-07:00

II. HALLWAYS SERVE AS AN OUTPOST AS WELL
I BORROW MY FELLOW STALKER, THE JEDI, FROM HIS CURRENT CHOSEN "HAUNTING" (NOTE THE USE OF THE WORD "HAUNTING", NOT "HUNTING") GROUND. HE WILL SERVE AS ONE OF MY PROPS FOR THE EVENING. WE POSITION OURSELVES NEAR THE HALLWAY (ALWAYS A VERY GOOD STALKING GROUND SINCE EVERYONE NEEDS TO PASS BY HERE TO GET TO THE PANTRY) AND PRETEND TO BE ENGROSSED IN AN INTELLIGENT DISCUSSION. OF COURSE, THIS IS DONE DURING CHUVANESS'S (DEFINITION: A WORD WHICH USED TO BE MEANINGLESS GIBBERISH BUT EVOLVED INTO A NOUN/VERB PERTAINING TO ANYONE/ANYTHING/EVERYTHING AT A GIVEN PLACE AND TIME; LATELY BEING USED AS A GENERAL TERM FOR THE SUBJECT OF THE "STALK") BREAK. NEEDLESS TO SAY, MY ANTICS ARE VERY TAXING TO THE JEDI AS HE LACKS THE MORE DEVIOUS NATURE I POSSESS. ANYWAY, WE CARRY ON WITH PLAN B. CHUVANESS PASSES BY, HURRIEDLY I LAUNCH INTO THE "DISCUSSION". "YOU KNOW JEDI, I PLAN ON STARTING MY OWN COMPANY SOMEDAY".. JEDI, "OH?".SHARK, "AH YES, ONE THAT WILL MAKE ME RICH BEYOND MY WILDEST DREAMS"..(AT THIS POINT, CHUVANESS PASSES BY AND I INTENTIONALLY INCREASE THE VOLUME) "AH YES, CASH WOULD FLOW FREELY FROM MY FINGERS, I WOULD USE HUNDRED DOLLAR BILLS TO LIGHT UP MY CIGARETTES (NEVERMIND THAT I DON'T SMOKE) MEN AND WOMEN OF POWER WOULD BOW TO MY WHIMS" ( AT WHICH POINT CHUVANESS HAS ALREADY PASSED BY WITH NO HOPES OF LOOKING BACK) "AH YES..." (LOOK BACK YOU BLUNDERING IDIOT) "AH YES..AHH..DAMN".OBVIOUSLY SOUNDING LIKE AN OBNOXIOUS PRIG DOESNT APPEAL TO YOU. I HAVE GOT TO THINK OF MORE EFFECTIVE WAYS OF ATTRACTING MY CHUVANESS.

Chuvaness Files I. The STALKER (JECKYLL AND HYDE CONUNDRUM)

2004-09-05T16:00:00.000-07:00

I. The STALKER
I APPROACH FROM THE BACK, LIKE A HUNTER STALKING A PREY.. I HAVE ONLY MOMENTS TO ADMIRE THE WAY THE LIGHT FALLS ON YOUR HAIR BEFORE YOU NOTICE THAT A SHADOW IS BLOCKING YOUR READING LIGHT. YOU TURN AROUND AND AND SAY "OH, ITS YOU CACCAM".. "YEAH, SO HOW'S IT GOING?" (ANG CUTE MO NGAYON, NAKAKATIGIL HININGA ANG IYONG ITSURA) .. "OH NOTHING MUCH"... (IF SMALL TALK WOULD BE DESCRIBED, I WOULD SAY IT'S VERY APTLY CALLED, "SMALL"). NOW, YOU LOOK AT ME, WAITING, IF I HAVE ANY MORE TO SAY THAN MY MUNDANE GREETING..I TRY TO RISE TO THE CHALLENGE.."UH,,UH..HAVE YOU SEEN CATFISH?" (IF I COULD ONLY TELL YOU HOW YOU ALMOST LEAVE ME IN A COMA EVERY TIME YOU SMILE). "CATFISH? I THINK I SAW HIM HEAD OUTSIDE FOR A SMOKE". ALMOST IMMEDIATELY, I REALIZE MY BLUNDER FOR WHAT OTHER CHOICE DO I HAVE THAN TO HEAD OUTSIDE AND PRETEND TO LOOK FOR MY CATFISH WHEN I KNOW FOR A FACT THAT HE'S PRESENTLY SNORING AWAY IN A COUCH BY THE WRECK ROOM-- THIS WOULD AMATURELY END MY PRECIOUS TIME WITH YOU..I GRASP FOR A NEW SUBJECT TO PROLONG THE RELATIVE "CONVERSATION" WE WERE HAVING..."OK, I'LL TRY TO GO THERE LATER, ANO ORAS BREAK MO?" (PERHAPS WE COULD BOTH HEAD OVER TO THE PANTRY AND GRAB A BITE TO EAT, LIBRE PA KITA).."KATATAPOS LANG E". "OH" (SHET, STUMPED). AFTER THAT EPISODE, WHAT ELSE COULD I DO BUT PRETEND LIKE I HAVEN'T JUST BEEN STABBED BY A DAGGER AND NOT STAGGER AWAY IN PAIN. WHILE STANDING BESIDE YOU, I GET A BRILLIANT IDEA TO COVER MY RETREAT (MY BRILLIANT IDEAS USUALLY TURN OUT TO BE TOTALLY STUPID AFTER A PERIOD OF TIME ELAPSES), TO SAVE MYSELF FROM SAYING A PROPER FAREWELL AND LOSING FACE I PRETEND TO HAVE FOUND SOMEONE MORE ENGAGING TO TALK WITH AND LEAVE YOU TRYING TO DISCERN WHETHER YOU WERE STILL IN THE DIALOGUE OR WAS JUST GIVEN A RUDE HINT OF NOT BEING INTERESTING ENOUGH (WHICH IS OF COURSE MY INTENTION, AFTER YOUR INDIFFERENT LETDOWN). WELL, THE TRUTH IS, THERE ARE MOUNTAINS SO FEARFUL AND DANGEROUS THAT I WOULD STILL TRAVERSE JUST FOR HAVING THAT SIMPLE EXCHANGE WITH YOU. SO, HERE ENDS THE FIRST ORDEAL. I STILL HAVE TWO HOURS TO PLOT MORE OUTRAGEOUS WAYS TO GAIN YOUR ATTENTION.

Reruns

2004-09-04T10:22:00.000-07:00

It took me a long time to think of what to put in this blog. I just realized i already had so many templates, i decided to paste them here just to make use of the space. hikhik

Thoughts Inside A Bowl

2004-08-23T01:21:00.000-07:00

finally, a blog.

another anecdote of the headless catfish

2004-07-04T04:15:00.000-07:00

weird little green men are running all over the precinct.. at first i thought it was just an after effect of too much coffee, i was proven wrong when one of them bumped into my leg as i was coming out of the rest room. the thing is, they start catching you unawares, they'd just pop out of nowhere all of a sudden, like this one time, i was supposed to use the company shower room, as i opened the shower curtain, a weird little green man came running out w/ a towel wrapped around his middle. probably just had a shower... i also had this close encounter w/ another of the paranormal residents at the office, i was minding my own business, typing meticulous notes for the next agent when an apparition, something like a puff of smoke, appeared before my eyes and literally passed in front of my computer monitor..cold air also accompanied the apparition...the thing is, i was the only one who saw it, now my record at the office is not entirely reliable (this is due to the fact that some of the people i have the misfortune of working with are presently claiming that i have a screw loose somewhere) so i logically had to look for another person to confirm that i didn't just need to have my eyes rechecked. UNFORTUNATELY, the person beside me used to wear glasses and usually squints when she looks at you(hehe, sori jho) so naturally she didn't see anything. she even asked if i took my daily dose of medication...this caused me a modicum amount of worry though, even when i began to doubt my "reality perception" once again... anyway, this will not cause a major amount of alarm on my part because i am used to "seeing dead people" once in a while and i'm not really bothered about what other people think about me (Basilio, Crispin..)..well, another shift has passed and i have to get home to the dreary confines of my present hibernation quarters. enough babbling.

Pagpapatiwakal Ng Katinuan

2004-06-27T20:16:00.000-07:00

as i'm currently supposed to be working right now, let me do something much more "wholesome" in lieu
of dozing off into oblivion.... About two nights ago, i was wondering, ang hirap rin pala mag-ipon ng testimonial. Anyway, I decided
to make myself some mock-testimonials just for the heck of it. Tapos syempre di ko rin maiwasang
mag-comment sa mga ito ano? MWAHAHAHHAHA.. here it goes.

San Lorenzo Ruiz - " j.caccam? i always found her sadly lacking in the "spiritual pursuit"... always up and
about yammering, spreading social discord. if i were her dad, i wouldn't hesitate in "showing her the
light" for one second... let me just get my hands on some pliers (for extracting toenails) and a tank full of water (righteous submersion)... sometimes martyrdom is the key for seeing the light.."

J.CACCAM- hey, not all of us are massochists you sick weirdo...

Gloria Macapagal Arroyo - " This girl is a paragon for all Filipino youngsters... Hard working, Righteous,
Charitable.. Honestly, this last presidential election, i woudn't have gotten through in one piece if it
weren't for this young lady. She helped me keep my head during the harrowing process... All i have for
her is heartfelt gratitude... The country owes you a great deal Jackie, your parents would be so proud of
you.."

J.CACCAM- (modestly wipes her eyes w/ a sleeve..) i did what any self-respecting filipino would
do...sniff..sniff...

Spanish Interpreter (work related po) - "para espanyol, marque el dos....Gracias Porliamar First Choice...
Jackie? Jackie? yo no hablo espanyol muy bien....."

J.CACCAM - notenggo dinero.... para bailar la bamba...hindi tayo papaalipin,,,, sugod!!! sugod mga
kapatid!!!PUNITIN ANG MGA SEDULA!!! PUNITIN !!!

Kris Aquino - "Sihh Jahhckiehh Caccahhmm??? Why thahht girhhll is not reahhlly a gurl ano?!!!? I've
beehhnn hearihng kasihh amohhng my katsismizans nahh she's been going around the place
claiminghh she's sohhme kind of ahh mermaihhdd.. like hellowww????!!!... akohhh lang ang tuhhnay
na murrrmaid anohhh?? akohh lang!!! huhuhhuhuuhhuhu... I love mark but we're not meant to be
talaga (self-suffering expression on face)."

J.CACCAM - I thought this testimonial is supposed to be for me!!!!! for me!!! wahahahahah

The Terminator - "J.caccam . die bitch."

J.CACCAM - the world would be better off burned into smoldering ashes if all people wrote testimonials
like this...

Sandara - "J. caccam? I like her. My Idol. Korean Kim-chi is the best. i want to thank her cos i wouldn't
have won 1st runner up if she didn't drop out of SCQ early in the game... thank you, thank you,, to all
my fans, thank you for supporting me, always know... MAAA--HAAAALL KOO KAHH--YOONG
LAHH-AATT" (plak plakplakplak.. series of scatterred applause at what seems to be a humongous effort
on Sandara's part)....."

J.CACCAM - personally, i liked errol better....

J.Caccam on herself - "J.Caccam, batang tiki-tiki. Nasanay sa hirap at sakripisyo. mahilig sa gatas at
kape, dahilan ng kanyang pagkakaroon ng matitibay na mga buto ngunit nerbyosang disposisyon..
Tinaguiriang "Terror ng mga LAMOK", ang future substitute for the katol. Self- proclaimed Androgenous
Mermaid. May She Rest In Peace...."

J.CACCAM - hah??

I don't get paid enough.....

2004-06-13T03:46:00.000-07:00

we gaze, inconspicuously, through the gray dividing wall that separates the mortals from
the demi-gods that reside in the center of the floor. we time our moves meticulously, so as
not to be seen and noticed. we crouch, as though busy with manipulating the system
synonymously termed after a flag. we try to get closer to the screen, appearing to be
engrossed, therefore giving the impression that we are not to be disturbed. our heads and
shoulders try to cover as much as we can of the lower part of the monitor. cautiously, we
click on the icon that provides us a relative glimpse of the world, a gateway to the window
of satellite-transmitted information. as a demi-god passes by, we straighten from our
suspicious crouching position then we discreetly push the left mouse button to minimize
the window. as the imminent danger of the citation form passes by, we scan the floor once
again to check if the coast is clear, then we repeat the procedure. this goes on until the
next irate texan decides to dial the toll free number, just to disturb some poor filipino
footstool and bitch about the unfairness of power-weilding, high and mighty retail electric
providers and threaten to move to another company who could give them better service.
hakhakhak.

Anopheles

2004-06-12T00:44:00.000-07:00

stealth is my middle name, i gaze in a statue-like motionlessness, from the cover of the cabinet shadow. she might think that i'm still the hapless victim but this time i'm ready. clutched in my right hand is the unlikely weapon that would bring death to my enemies. they would tremble in fear if they knew what i held. the droning sound comes ever nearer, i stand at the ready, the stiff gait i hold belying the fact that i am as full of energy as a coiled spring ready to explode. she comes, my sworn enemy. she has taken my lifeblood against my will, stolen it like a thief in the night. she has desecrated my body, the only thing i hold dear in this muddle of a life. now i thirst for revenge. i have sworn to myself that she will die before the next hour... alas, she comes, with hordes of her sisters, an army come to reckon with me, i stand ready with my newspaper, SWAT ! SWAT ! SWAT! it seems that i am making no impact. the mosquitoes attack without being deterred. i wave my battered newspaper around hopelessly, it seems that all my efforts are in vain, i turn to the last resort... i strike a match, the tip flares up, my last beacon of hope. i touch the burning end to the processed green spiral. an inconsequential act, to the untrained eye, but to mine, this would be the relative end of a life, a welcome beginning for me. BWAHAHAHAHAHHABWBAHAHAHAHAH!!!!! KAKATOLIN KO KAYONG MGA LAMOK KAYO !!! MWAHAHAHAHHAHA!!!!!!!! MAKAKATULOG NA AKO NG MAIGE!!!! BWAHAHAHAHHA...AKKHHHHKKKKK,,,, AHHAHHAKKKKK.. (pumasok ata yung lamoksa bunganga ko)... mmhhawakkkakkkkkkkkkkkkk.......................

in a nutshell (is a nut)

2004-06-01T11:46:00.000-07:00

yes, i'm sad to say, once in a while the cynic in us takes a nap and what takes its place is actually one of those dreaded sunny, "omigod-everthing's yellow and pink", "oh look, let's hop after the cute bunny!" types of alter egos... when this surfaces, we usually sigh at everything we see, whether its a romantic commercial wherein the guy actually proposes to the girl in front of a sunset beach background or even when we're watching the psycho chop up the heroine into tiny bits of pieces and mix the parts in an adobo restaurant serving (ewww... what kind of person thinks up these things?)...anyway the point to this is, it doesn't actually help me when this phenomenon happens in the wee hours of morning (the peak of call center hours), what with both of my seatmates asleep and i'm left without someone to bear the brunt of my mutation... people actually think i'm talking to myself when in fact the people i'm talking to are actually in another realm,so to speak. anyways, let me just clarify this for once and for all, I DO NOT TALK TO MYSELF, OK!!!!!!!???????? but yes, the rumors are true, my best buddy is john lennon and we went out the other day with elvis and oprah to eat the ever famous barbe-que at DANILICIOUS in project four, quezon city, manila, philippines.......

if life sucks, keep on sucking

2004-05-29T02:19:00.000-07:00

listen up you tubs of lard, here we are again with our weekly dose ofeuphemistic tirades. ok, so,, where to start, where to start.....there's this saying, "careful what you wish for..." i haven'tactually gotten' around to taking the thing seriously, until now,i've always wanted to be relocated to timbuktu, it always seemed tome, the grass was greener there, the people, though brown and tiny,were a lot more genial and refined, the cows looked a lot more healthy... i could've raised chickens there and have been content...anyway, now that i'm here in timbuktu, the grass doesn't seem as green when i first glimpsed it (it probably was just color-blindness or some-such..), the people are tiny and brown, but they're a sullenbunch at best, and the cows aren't cows at all, i found out too late,they're a breed of mutant chickens, now i couldn't go around taking care of those, can i?...... i lost a lot of friends when i came hereto timbuktu, my closest friend on the floor (a certain mermaid w/short hair and a mustache), along w/ a few good men (kuya wafer and astroboy) and my ping pong pakner. life couldn't get drearier.... now i'm left w/ a colony of brown people i don't know and a few cow-sizedchickens running around. hmmm... this tirade is turning depressing. i think i have to log off.... they always said taking too much depressants depresses you, now i know that for truth....

Chocolate Okra And Baked Bubblegum Flavored Kamias

2004-05-21T04:28:00.000-07:00

wooohhhhooooo. thank God for outlets such as these (ok, friendstermay not be so great a blog but hey, it's still a blog..)... so whatuseless debate/monologue/diatribe/denunciation shall i discuss againfor today? let's start with....(drumroll please)...marina, angsirenang long hair na may funky bangs... is she really a goldfish ora common carp?? ow come on, the dully burnished tail is a dead giveaway, she's really a mutant dalagang-bukid, for crying out loud......(o my gosh? really?)...now if marina is a dalagang-bukid, it wouldautomatically follow that mickey mouse is actually a closet gay andnot a straight, wholesome mouse as he claims on tv, (parang michaeljackson syndrome ito)... now what else???? ito dati na bumabagabag saisipan ko... ano kayang uri ng ibon si big bird?? my gas,,, all thistime my strongest bet is that he's a chicken.. pero i also can't makeup my mind kung may lahi syang pato.... jackie... what the hell,!,,??are you going through one of your periods of schizzophrenia again??what? are you talking to me? yes i am, who else would i be talkingto? well i don't know, i'm the only here..... don't you have betterthings to do than write about usually nonsense, always semi-madbulletin posts??... well, not really,,.. well, get yourself in shapegirl! join the navy or something similarly productive!!!!!!! takeyour medicine regularly,,,you don't want it to get around that you'resome kind of a raving lunatic don't you?too late... it's alreadyout... what the hell. just go bounce on the walls. you're starting toannoy me.

Buttered Alamang and Bagoong Mayonaisse

2004-05-17T01:12:00.002-07:00

INTERVIEW W/ WORLD FAMOUS ARTIST AND PART TIME EXOTIC DANCER JACKIE CACCAM (CONDUCTED BY KORINA SANCHEZ, MORNING GIRL, AKA BITCHY REPORTER RUMOURED TO BE GOING OUT W/MR. PALENGKE)
KORINA: so, certified ka na raw?
JACKIE: yes. i was so nervous alam mo? sobrang nagcry ako to death...
KORINA:if you cried to death how come you're still alive?
JACKIE: i refuse to answer that question, parang you're implying na suicidal ako, what will my fans think??KORINA: ok,sorry i brought that up, i almost forgot the episode four years ago when it was rumoured you almost died on the beaches of San Gabriel, San Fernando ,La Union....
JACKIE: that's different!!!!!!!!! I WAS trying tosave somebody you know, i wasn't trying to get myself killed in the process.. even though ican't swim.. don't you think i'm heroic/noble? (cough, cough in a modest way)KORINA: this topic is getting old, can't we talk of something else?
JACKIE: like what? do you want to talk how i went through hell and high water to get certified?
KORINA: uhhmmmm.. anything more interesting thanthat??
JACKIE: well i do want to talk about a certain someone but that would be beside the point of this interview..
KORINA: but what is the point of this interview?
JACKIE: aren't we talking about me and my fame and glory?
KORINA: no we were trying to get to the point where you single-handedly vanquished the green-eyed monster...
JACKIE:hmm, somehow that skipped my mind
KORINA:i don't think we're getting anywhere
JACKIE: i know. but aren't you glad you had this chance to talk to me?
KORINA: no
JACKIE:WHY YOU?!!!?? *&$^&#%
KORINA:you don't intimidate me, i'm dating mr.palengke. he's number two in the senatorial race you know (partial results only)..
JACKIE:the f*#^ do i care??
RAMBOL RAMBOL RAMBOL RAMBOL RAMBOL RAMBOL RAMBOLRAMBOL RAMBOL RAMBOL RAMBOL RAMBOL RAMBOL RAMBOL
ps. sorry guys. didn't have anything plausible to write about. hik. this is getting old. hik. hik.