Saturday, December 12, 2009


This site is under renovation.

Thursday, December 10, 2009

Ten Random Things About Johnny [My Student, My Friend]

Johnny [Surname Unknown]

1. Johnny hates insects. He cringes at the thought of wriggling maggots and caterpillars.
2. Johnny falls asleep in my class. I often ask him, "Am I boring?" But he often says no and he's sorry. He just feels tired in my class.
3. His class with me starts at 4 PM and ends at 6 PM.
4. He doesn't like the smell of vinegar and he calls buko pie "jellyfish pie".
5. He has dragon pajamas.
6. He loves boy bawang.
7. He sleeps in the middle of a writing activity.
8. He asks weird things like, "Why is the man's stick standing?"
9. He played "Who Has the Biggest Brain" once, and he laughed when he found out he only had a brain as big as that of an Ape Man. Take note though, that he's exceptionally gifted.
10. He can be crazy at times, but he's one of the sweetest students I've known.

Ten Random Things About Paul [My Student, My Friend]

Paul Choi

1. Paul always tells me he's going to quit smoking. He fails every time he tries.
2. Paul has a certificate for having completed the 250-kilometer hike in Jeju Island. He gave it to me on my birthday.
3. Paul is talkative.
4. Paul is a sadist. He likes hurting people, well, physically. ^^
5. Paul is not a hard drinker. Haha.
6. Paul has a big tummy. If he weren't a boy, you would've thought he's pregnant.
7. Paul is very funny and he doesn't run out of things to say.
8. I love calling him "Gossip Boy".
9. Paul says he's not a playboy. Don't believe him.
10. Paul loves Grace so much. He's unbelievably sweet. I'm really happy for both of them.

Monday, December 7, 2009

Eternal Rest of Thy Soul

Dear Ma'am Valmores, 

It's been quite a while. I want to tell you two things. First, thank you. I wouldn't have known John Milton, Shakespeare, Hugo, Icabod Crane, Alexandre Dumas, Mark Twain, Don Quixote and so much more if you had not been my teacher in English during high school. I learned so much from you, that when I went to college and took up my English-American Literature, I felt so blessed that I didn't have to use Google to look them up. I never appreciated you this much until now...that you are gone. This being said, my second message is this: I am so sorry. 

I am so sorry that after I graduated, I didn't even bother looking for you to express how grateful I've been for all your lessons. 

Let this be a proof that I learned from you. I love you Ma'am Valmores. 


The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea,
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.

Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds:

Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower
The moping owl does to the moon complain
Of such as, wandering near her secret bower,
Molest her ancient solitary reign.

Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade,
Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap,
Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,
The rude Forefathers of the hamlet sleep.

The breezy call of incense-breathing morn,
The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed,
The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,
No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.

For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
Or busy housewife ply her evening care:
No children run to lisp their sire's return,
Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share,

Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield,
Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke;
How jocund did they drive their team afield!
How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!

Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile
The short and simple annals of the Poor.

The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Awaits alike th' inevitable hour:-
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

Nor you, ye Proud, impute to these the fault
If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise,
Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.

Can storied urn or animated bust
Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust,
Or Flattery soothe the dull cold ear of Death?

Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid
Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire;
Hands, that the rod of empire might have sway'd,
Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre:

But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page,
Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll;
Chill Penury repress'd their noble rage,
And froze the genial current of the soul.

Full many a gem of purest ray serene
The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear:
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.

Some village-Hampden, that with dauntless breast
The little tyrant of his fields withstood,
Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,
Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood.

Th' applause of list'ning senates to command,
The threats of pain and ruin to despise,
To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land,
And read their history in a nation's eyes,

Their lot forbad: nor circumscribed alone
Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined;
Forbad to wade through slaughter to a throne,
And shut the gates of mercy on mankind,

The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide,
To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame,
Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride
With incense kindled at the Muse's flame.

Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife,
Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray;
Along the cool sequester'd vale of life
They kept the noiseless tenour of their way.

Yet e'en these bones from insult to protect
Some frail memorial still erected nigh,
With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck'd,
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.

Their name, their years, spelt by th' unletter'd Muse,
The place of fame and elegy supply:
And many a holy text around she strews,
That teach the rustic moralist to die.

For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey,
This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd,
Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,
Nor cast one longing lingering look behind?

On some fond breast the parting soul relies,
Some pious drops the closing eye requires;
E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries,
E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.

For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead,
Dost in these lines their artless tale relate;
If chance, by lonely contemplation led,
Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, --

Haply some hoary-headed swain may say,
Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn
Brushing with hasty steps the dews away,
To meet the sun upon the upland lawn;

'There at the foot of yonder nodding beech
That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high.
His listless length at noontide would he stretch,
And pore upon the brook that babbles by.

'Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,
Muttering his wayward fancies he would rove;
Now drooping, woeful wan, like one forlorn,
Or crazed with care, or cross'd in hopeless love.

'One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill,
Along the heath, and near his favourite tree;
Another came; nor yet beside the rill,
Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he;

'The next with dirges due in sad array
Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne,-
Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay
Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.'

The Epitaph

Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth
A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown.
Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth,
And Melacholy marked him for her own.

Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,
Heaven did a recompense as largely send:
He gave to Misery all he had, a tear,
He gained from Heaven ('twas all he wish'd) a friend.

No farther seek his merits to disclose,
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode
(There they alike in trembling hope repose),
The bosom of his Father and his God.

By Thomas Gray (1716-71).

Thursday, December 3, 2009

Pre-Christmas Post

Taken on the 21st of November, 2009
Manila Cathedral

The Parable of the Fourth King
By Sen. Juan Flavier

THE whole world knows of the three kings - the wise men who traveled far to pay homage to the Baby born in a stable, and to offer Him their gifts of gold, incense and myrrh. They followed the star of Bethlehem in their quest for Baby Jesus.

A little known fact was the fourth king. He, too, a was wise who journeyed from the east guided by the same star, and he brought his own gift securely fastened to his faithful camel.

But the fourth king did not succeed in his quest. Or so he thought at first. For along the way, he kept making stops. Every time he saw a man in need, he would alight and provide succor.

He overtook a farmer carrying a heavy load. He stopped and offered his camel as he himself alighted and walked.

Near a gully, he found a farmer wounded from the attack of a wild animal. The fourth king tarried for days taking care of the farmer’s needs. He refused to continue his journey until the man was brought home to his village.

A group of bandits was pillaging the produce of another farmer. The fourth king again stopped to defend the helpless man. In the end, the bandits took away his camel and his gift.

So, he continued his travel on foot, still stopping and tarrying at every town where need beckoned him.

Many years passed before the fourth king reached Bethlehem. He was told that the Messiah had proceeded to Jerusalem on a donkey. He rushed over and found a throng of people. They were talking about a Jew who had carried a cross to Calvary.

The fourth king ran and from a distance, saw the silhouette of two crosses. A third one was just being erected. At the foot of the Christ nailed on the cross, the fourth king knelt and wept. "I am despicable for tarrying on my journey. I lost my gift and failed in my quest," he sobbed bitterly.

The Man on the cross spoke in a whisper in a most kindly voice, "Stand. I received your gift long ago and yours is the greatest of them. You found me!"

(December 31, 2003 issue)
-Sun Star

I came across this article when I had my practice teaching last year. It's been a year since I taught in a public school and heaven knows when I would come back. Anyway, it was also around this time of the year when my cooperating teacher asked me to look for a copy of this story and make a lesson plan for it. I got it and before I made my lesson plan, I read it. tried to find the theme, the elements whatnot, only to find myself struck by the essence of the story. Sometimes, one can just look at the surface and see that what is necessary has been there all along.

As Flavier may have put it, this is a story unbeknownst to whoever made the bible. They may not have known it for his goodness was unsung and modest.

In our lives we may stop along the way in our attempt to do something for other people. At times, we hesitate because we think we are supposed to do something more worth our while. We still do it anyway, for at some point, we think that's the least we could do. These little things, much to our ignorance, are like blessings to other people. We look at it differently because it's us who do the actions and they are just receivers of what we do.

I have learned, that we do not have to look up to adore who we believe in. We only have to look around.

Sometimes we fail to see the good in ourselves because we refer to goodness as the things that are publicly well-regarded. We have the notion that when we go to church, we become closer to God. We think donations and other religious activities elate God. We are looking far, much too far from the reality that it's the simple things that we do that matters most to whoever we believe in.

This fourth king could be me; it could be anybody else--and they wouldn't have noticed.
I'm glad somebody did.

Friday, November 27, 2009


A writer once said, "A story without emotion is like a human without a soul."

Errr, I don't know exactly why I said that.

A month ago, I decided to quit blogging because I thought I grew out of it. It was an excuse because these days, I've convinced myself that I have been too busy to even think of new ideas to write about. It's like considering changes, no matter how unwanted they seem to be. An old string in a guitar needs to be replaced with a new one, for not changing it might make the songs go out of tune. A child needs new sets of uniforms every school year because he grows up and grows out of his clothes. A woman stops drinking and smoking when she finds out she bears a child. It's like, changes have to take place not because they are wanted but because they are indispensable let alone, inevitable.

Before I got the drive to write again, I had dozens of entries which didn't have meanings at all. They were space-fillers; they were posted just so I could say that I blogged and shared something. It was until the first week of November that I realized, I hate pointless utterances, musings, copies of other people's works on a blog that I call my own. I felt that since the time I started having "A Fish Between Two Cats" for myself without sharing it with another blogger, it has already lost its meaning. Everything was already pointless, or so I thought.

This morning, I watched a Miyazaki movie for the second time. Its English title is "Whispers of the Heart." The first time I watched it, I looked at it from a young woman's perspective--the romance, the lines, the songs and all other cheesy things a teenager can think of. I didn't think of myself to look at it that way, yet to my surprise I did. It was like falling in love with the characters, as if the story retold mine. The second time I watched it, everything was different.

My Literature teacher was correct when she said that it feels good to read a book twice or even more. On the second attempt of an individual to read a book, he learns things he didn't learn during his first. Hence, when I saw the movie again, everything became entirely and surprisingly different.

Shizuku lost her motivation to study when Seiji left for Cremona to be an apprentice and to eventually be a master luthier. She felt nothing compared to him because she was left behind without plans, without goals and without anything she could be proud of. She decided to be a writer and in order to accomplish that, she rendered much of her time trying to write a story. In the process of writing it, she got low grades at school and she became too absorbed with her idea of being like him or perhaps, even more. She wanted to be someone who could get what she wants no matter how tedious it becomes. When she finally showed her work to Seiji's grandfather, and the latter said it was like a stone, unpolished and imperfect. She seemed disappointed after putting much effort on it but Seiji's grandfather said, that a stone can be polished, carved and can eventually become something precious like Lapiz Lazuli, which sparkles when light strikes on it.

It was then that she realized she needs to focus on things that are far more important than impulse and conceit. She knew she could be someone, in her own time. Early morning, when Shizuku was sleeping, Seiji came back and took her for a ride to his favorite spot where they both saw the sun slowly rising up, streaking its beautiful rays across the city.

What does it have to do with everything that is happening? It's simple. I realized, that I looked at things from an irrational and dense perspective. It's not always about human emotions and relationships toward other people. Sometimes, it could be about an individual's relationship with himself. Whether or not it is being irrational, what remains as an apparent point is that people neglect to see the underlying contexts of stories and experiences. What could these actions mean? What do these messages impose? How do these things affect the entirety of the story? Some people prefer looking at the surface, the horizon, the "obvious", and these people are the ones who often struggle in the end.

I thought I wanted to stop blogging. I thought I wanted push myself to do things which seemed far more important. It was a dense idea after all.

Let me share a poem which struck me the first time I read it. The second time I did, I felt relieved.

If I feel depressed I will sing.
If I feel sad I will laugh.
If I feel ill I will double my labor.
If I feel fear I will plunge ahead.
If I feel inferior I will wear new garments.
If I feel uncertain I will raise my voice.
If I feel poverty I will think of wealth to come.
If I feel incompetent I will think of past success.
If I feel insignificant I will remember my goals.
Today I will be the master of my emotions.
-Og Mandino

Photo #3: WELS Christmas Tree

Taken on the 27th of November, 2009

I love the tree and the people who made it.
Thanks, teachers.
Without it, Christmas wouldn't be felt in the office.

I Heard This Song and I Cried.

[If you can see this without boxes, then you're lucky, because your computer can read Korean characters]

태연 (소녀시대)

만약에 내가 간다면
내가 다가간다면
넌 어떻게 생각할까
용길 낼 수 없고

만약에 니가 간다면
니가 떠나간다면
널 어떻게 보내야 할지
자꾸 겁이 나는 걸

내가 바보 같아서
바라볼 수 밖에만
없는 건 아마도
외면할지도 모를
니 마음과 또 그래서
더 멀어질 사이가 될까봐
정말 바보 같아서
사랑한다 하지
못하는 건 아마도
만남 뒤에 기다리는 아픔에
슬픈 나날들이

만약에 니가 온다면
니가 다가온다면
난 어떻게 해야만 할지
정말 알 수 없는 걸

내가 바보 같아서
바라볼 수 밖에만
없는 건 아마도
외면할지도 모를
니 마음과 또 그래서
더 멀어질 사이가 될까봐
정말 바보같아서
사랑한다 하지
못하는 건 아마도
만남 뒤에 기다리는 아픔에
슬픈 나날들이

내가 바보 같아서
사랑한다 하지 못하는 건 아마도
만남 뒤에 기다리는 아픔에
슬픈 나날들이

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Photo #2: Aileen [Eugene Jeong]

Taken on the 21st of November, 2009

I always tell her she's pretty but she doesn't believe me. She tells me sorts of excuses, and humble statements like, "No, I'm stressed." When she smiles, she's like Tiffany of Girls' Generation. I've been teaching her for two months but it feels like I've known her for a long time. She tells me we have the same passion for food, and we both suffer from sudden appetencies, but it doesn't show because for two months that I've been having classes with her, she hasn't added a gram to her weight--or maybe she's good at hiding it. She doesn't feel upset about having an entire page covered with comments for improving her essays. She's open-minded about corrections and constructive criticisms and she's not hard-headed, compared to other students out there. She's good but she doesn't brag about it. She just lacks confidence in talking but with luck, I can make her talk more in the future. She has assertion; the kind that isn't easily manifested by a foreign language student. People may try to be assertive but they still give up anyway. As for her, she knows what she believes in and she doesn't easily concede. She values freedom and I think that's one of the qualities that I share with her. She likes to try new things and she doesn't get scared by the appearance of Filipino food. Sometimes, I'm afraid I might gross her out with the food that I give her, but she doesn't mind. In fact, she even likes most of it. She's one of the nicest and most intellectual students I've had. 

When will we ever stop laughing when we have a class Aileen? I hope we won't. 

This is so Cool

I came across this website and I got this. If you want to do crazy stuff on your pictures, you might want to try this. Have fun!

Photo of the Day

Taken last 24th of October, 2009

While everyone else was drinking booze at Metrowalk, or perhaps some may have gone home to savor the wee hours of the first weekend morning, I ate out with Jepoy [his Filipino name] and Evelyn in a not-so-popular Korean restaurant somewhere in Ortigas. Koreans do not normally eat meat without vegetables, so when we ate at Sarangbang, they served mixed vegetables in the absence of lettuce. It was a bummer though, since I was expecting the real Samgyeopsal, wrapped in green veggie leaves. Everyone, say hello to Pajori.

I took this photo using Jepoy's Nikon god-like camera, and thanks to its nifty features, I was able to capture the beauty of this dish even before Ebak [as I fondly call Evelyn] ate the whole lot. As I was writing this post, I felt fluids oozing out of my mouth. I feel like I haven't really eaten good food for years. Oh, god. Let me have some of this again. 

I got the steps in making Pajori from this site. You might want to do this for me this Christmas.   
  1. Shred about 3 bunches of green onions to make 5 cups. Soak it in cold water.
  2. In a large bowl, combine 1/4 cup soy sauce, 2 tbs hot pepper flakes, 2 ts sugar, 1 tbs sesame seeds, and 1 tbs sesame oil. Set it aside.
  3. Drain the shredded green onion.
  4. Add the green onion to the bowl and mix it with the sauce. Set aside. [What do you mean set aside?! I think the writer should have said something like "Enjoy"-Jing

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

There was a Little Girl

There was a little girl
Who had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good
She was very good indeed,
But when she was bad she was horrid.

There Was a Little Girl
~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow


I wake up.
Jump out of bed
and head for the sink.
I look at my face and tell myself,
"You're too beautiful for all this crap."
I eat, burp and thank heavens for food. 
I take a bath, get dressed and out the door 
I see people busy with the latest gabfest
They argue, laugh, and blabber some more
and I tell myself,
"You're too sensible for all this crap."
On the street, men walk past me, and look back
and mumble certain compliments which I'd 
rather take as indecent remarks
Get on a cab when I'm really late,
 or more frequently a jeep when I know
I'm gonna get on time before the bell rings
People keep on asking for my help
in passing their fares to the driver
and tell myself
"I'm too lazy for all this crap."
I get off, walk a few meters to the building
Do a little combing of my hair
Put on some more make up
Face my student for two hours
I laugh, talk some more and teach a bit
and I tell myself,
"I'm too absorbed to do all this crap."
I bid her goodbye, I'll see her around
Have lunch, sleep, do a little tattle-fest
Then talk on the phone
while talking I tell myself,
"I'm too asocial for all this crap."
I laugh, worry a little, sound a little too perky
then I smoke and I smoke some more
then I tell myself, 
"I'm too weak for this crap."
Work ends.
I get out of the building, with friends
head for the nearest cafe we could find
Talk more and eat more
My eyes are sore and my feet more banal than ever
and I tell myself
"I'm too jaded for all this crap."
I walk home, get on a jeep and walk again. 
I sit in front of the computer and play
Farmville. Harvest. Plow. Sow.
I hop into bed. 
Think a little
and tell myself
"I deserve more than just all this crap."
Then I realize, 
maybe all this crap is all I need to get by. 

Well, what news do you want to have first?

Let's start with the good news.

The good news is, I'm blogging again. 

The bad news is: I'm still thinking of a good comeback entry.

Oh, wait. This is a good comeback entry. 


[Special thanks to those who dropped by my blog, for inspiring me to write, again. I've been reminded of how wonderful it feels to hear the sound of my keyboard as it transpires into wonderful words.]

Thursday, October 1, 2009

You are an Ass. So am I. We're Even

If there's anything that I want to tell you, it's this:
I'm sorry if I chose not to be with you.
But, after what you've done, I feel like
I have never been this happy in my life
for having made that choice.

Peace. ^^

Monday, September 28, 2009


Ten minutes to make this one. Sorry. I am slowly running out of poetic and figurative ideas for this entry.

Saturday, September 26, 2009:

I arrived at four in the morning in the hopes that my dad wouldn't be too mad because I stayed out late. It hadn't stopped raining. My father doubted my alibi, and was wondering why I used a different track in going home. I told him v. mapa was seriously flooded. I didn't want to walk through floods because the dump truck was there and the way I figured it out, the fluids gushing out of the truck would have made me sick. I didn't really realize I'd have done more than walking through floods until later the following day.

Why did I stay out until 4 am?

I had coffee at Starbucks with my workmate, Gles. She decided to meet up with someone, whom, I must admit, was seriously handsome for his age. Anyway, I stayed with them and had my lovely share of dark mocha frap. It was already 3:30. My hair was soaking wet, I wore a red dress in anticipation of October Fest, the so-called event for beer lovers and party goers. It turned out, that after going around Ortigas without umbrellas, we had to end up at Starbucks and stay there until the rain would finally stop.

Unfortunately, it didn't.

Jump jump, fast forward to the time I was already at home. I wanted to explain why even at 6 o'clock in the morning I was still up. It was because of 2 cups of coffee I had with Gles. It still hadn't stopped raining. My mom was already up and frantic about the awful weather. I was really amazed when my dad figured out a way to stop the flood from easily getting into our house. It was really effective. People were already trying their best to keep the water out of their houses, but it was already inevitable. It was there. The housekeeper in my cousin's house slowly tried to push the water out of their house; but instead of letting it out, the water has unfortunately found another avenue--my house.

It was 9 o'clock. The water was knee-high and awfully smelly. I had to help my dad because he was the only one carrying all the things from the living room to the bedroom on the second floor of the house. I really admire my dad. He felt a sharp pang in his chest but he didn't mind. He wanted to save all our things so he didn't stop. I felt guilty because I wasn't able to help him that much.

Anyway, it didn't take an hour before the flood had finally reached my crotch. Then from afar, while standing on the first step of our stairs, I saw Jesus-figurines my mom had kept for years. I was wearing a shirt and my underwear and in prayer of not getting any form of infection in my genital area, I dared cross the flood just to get the religious statues I didn't even believe in. I am not really a fan of religion and I have never really believed in the power of man made idols, but this incident made me believe in faith. It was like, I would have been more cruel if I had just let it float. My family believes in them. I told myself, in this time, maybe I should too.

This photograph was taken at 6 pm.
I wanted this flood to end. I wasn't only thinking of myself while saying this. I wasn't only thinking of my family or my friends. I was thinking of my neighbors and their families and pardon if it sounds too patriotic and surreal but yes, I was thinking of my country. I wasn't disturbed, I was depressed. I couldn't watch TV because the electricity had been cut off a few hours after the flood had started reaching fuse boxes from different houses. I wanted to hear how this flood had affected thousands of Filipinos all over Metro Manila.

Because of this flood, we left most of our appliances floating:
I had salted egg and tomatoes for dinner. My father wasn't able to prepare much food because he didn't expect a flood as bad as this one. We had to wait and pray that the flood wouldn't reach the ceiling of the living room, otherwise, it would reach the second floor. Other families experienced so much worse. They couldn't buy goods and they had to ask people to walk on roofs to buy cans of sardines from a nearby store. The store keeper had to bring all the items to her bedroom on the second floor of the house.
The men had to stay on the roofs of their houses. While pretending to be on guard of all residents from possible crimes and fires, they tried to ease tension by singing Filipino songs and as if those things were not enough, some of my neighbors even played Hillsong music on their phones which, on a matter of hours would definitely go off.

These people were aware of the misfortune that struck them, yet they didn't mind, or if they did, they didn't want to be too emotional about it. Let this picture be a good example:
While these things were happening, I asked myself three things:

1. Where are those politicians who gave hints of possible running for presidency? In Davao or in other far-flung areas, where they tried to publicize themselves for the upcoming elections?

2. Why did the baranggay officials in my community have to ask for a list of residents who were victims of the flood? Aren't we all victims of the flood? In these times, would it still matter to them whether these people had enlisted or not?

3. When will this flood subside?

I didn't realize I was still thinking of the answers in my dream until the time I woke up.

Sunday. September 27, 2009

I woke up at 6:30 and was pleased to see that the flood has drastically subsided to a leg-high. My father was already cooking rice for breakfast and had already started sweeping the water out of the house. All the grime, mud and dirt stayed on the floor and there was only one thing in my head while staring at the Ondoy aftermath:

It's gonna be a long day.

It was, indeed. My sisters started getting all the things that floated on the flood. The photo frames, all the medals I got from grade school, the medals and trophies my siblings got, the bottles of vinegar, soy sauce, ketchup, etc.

My neighbors started taking all their things out of the house for cleaning.

They were all talking about it, trying to make a big joke out of it, like nothing big really happened. It was funny and at the same time traumatic. It was, how should I put it? Sad, perhaps? We spent a lot of money putting up our lives in this community and we're going to spend a lot more in trying to relive it, patching it up until things are back to how they once were.

While cleaning, I saw this article in the newspaper, about a celebrity who had to climb up the roof to be rescued by another celebrity on a speedboat. Another actress was trapped in her house and had no choice but to stay on the third floor of her house.

Truly, this calamity proves that natures chooses no class, no race, no social status. It doesn't need ugly houses to hit. It doesn't choose who should suffer. Apparently, even those who are not sinners [as a facebook user may have put it] became victims. It was very random, thus very fair. In that perspective, nature has become really amusing.

Another Filipino trait has resurfaced in these times. I believe, from what I have seen, the Filipino concept of Bayanihan is not dead. It has never been. I saw it in my neighbors as they did random favors without asking for anything in return. I saw it in my father as he tried to fix stoves for 5 of our neighbors and it was really remarkable [he was only able to fix three, but that's hardly the point]. On my way to work, people tried their best to help other people in clearing out trash on the road. My neighbors helped my father in carrying some of our appliances. More importantly, people who were fortunate not to experience flood did their best in providing support to those who suffered. Thank God, even the government somehow did its part by conducting search and rescue operations in the course of the calamity. If these actions are still not enough to prove my point, there are thousands of websites that we can use to see how the Filipinos become kind enough to concerned other Filipinos.

Actually, I can't end this post.

There is only one thing can say though:
The worst part is over, thank God.

Thursday, September 17, 2009

The 10-Minute Meditation

I only had ten minutes to write this entry so forgive me for the errors whatsoever.

I think I've grown out of the things I used to love doing. I started Jeffrey Archer's Paths of Glory last night and I realized I couldn't make sense out of the words I read. It was like staring at the words and the words were shouting their definitions at me. I felt deaf and mute, not to mention stupid.


I've always wanted to apply changes but god, I don't know where to start. When laziness strikes, I always tell myself there are many days I can use for catching up but I always end up being unproductive. So far I only came up with these few empty goals.

1. I want to clean the house
2. I want to read more
3. I want to study
4. I want to go to school and get my transcript of records
5. I want to save money

Apparently, I haven't started doing any of these aforementioned plans. What's happening to me?


People but in and bug other people's lives because of three things:

1. They want to be noticed
2. They are afraid to be considered irrelevant
3. They feel that they have something to say on other people's lives.

Isn't it a lot better if people could just let other people live their lives regardless of the mistakes they may commit? Concern is good, but interference is a different story. As people start meddling in other people's affairs, they become less interested with how their lives turn out. Aren't they afraid of that? Sooner or later instead of talking about other people, they'd be the ones being talked about--negatively.

I don't know whether being "epal" [attention seeker] is an effect of upbringing or tradition, either way, let's not hope it grows as a trademark of Filipinos. It's not something I can be proud if I'd ever be one.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Bland Post

I'm losing will to write. This isn't me. If this continues, I'd stop using this blog and close all other journals I have on the net. This is frustrating. :|

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

Monday, September 7, 2009

You Oughta Know-Alanis Morissette

I want you to know, that I am happy for you
I wish nothing but the best for you both
An older version of me
Is she perverted like me?
Would she go down on you in a theater?
Does she speak eloquently
And would she have your baby?
I'm sure she'd make a really excellent mother

1-'Cause the love that you gave that we made
Wasn't able to make it enough for you
To be open wide,
No And every time you speak her name
Does she know how you told me
You'd hold me until you died
Till you died, but you're still alive

2-And I'm here, to remind you
Of the mess you left when you went away
It's not fair, to deny me
Of the cross I bear that you gave to me
You, you, you oughta know
You seem very well, things look peaceful
I'm not quite as well,
I thought you should know
Did you forget about me, Mr. Duplicity?
I hate to bug you in the middle of dinner
It was a slap in the face
How quickly I was replaced
And are you thinking of me when you f... her?
(rpt 1,2) Ohh... aah... ahh... ahh...

'Cause the joke that you laid in the bed
That was me and I'm not gonna fade
As soon as you close your eyes, and you know it
And every time I scratch my nails
Down someone else's back I hope you feel it
Well, can you feel it? (rpt 2, 2...)


Sunday, September 6, 2009

Higurashi no Naku Koro ni

One review for this movie coming really soon.

In the Orchard by Muriel Stuart

In the Orchard

1. 'I thought you loved me.' 'No, it was only fun.'
2. 'When we stood there, closer than all?' 'Well, the harvest moonWas shining and queer in your hair, and it turned my head.'
3. 'That made you?' 'Yes.' 'Just the moon and the light it made
4. Under the tree?' 'Well, your mouth, too.' 'Yes, my mouth?'
5. 'And the quiet there that sang like the drum in the booth.
6. You shouldn't have danced like that.' 'Like what?' 'So close,
7. Whith your head turned up, and the flower in your hair, a rose
8. That smelt all warm.' 'I loved you. I thought you knew
9. I wouldn't have danced like that with any but you.'
10. 'I didn't know, I thought you knew it was fun.'
11. 'I thought it was love you meant.' 'Well, it's done.' 'Yes, it's done.
12. I've seen boys stone a blackbird, and watched them drown
13. A kitten... it clawed at the reeds, and they pushed it down
14. Into the pool while it screamed. Is that fun, too?'
15. 'Well, boys are like that... Your brothers...' 'Yes, I know.
16. But you, so lovely and strong! Not you! Not you!'
17. 'They don't understand it's cruel. It's only a game.'
18. 'And are girls fun, too?' 'No, still in a way it's the same.
19. It's queer and lovely to have a girl...' 'Go on.'
20. 'It makes you mad for a bit to feel she's your own,
21. And you laugh and kiss her, and maybe you give her a ring,
22. But it's only in fun.' 'But I gave you everything.'
23. 'Well, you shouldn't have done it. You know what a fellow thinks
24. When a girl does that.' 'Yes, he talks of her over his drinks
25. And calles her a--' 'Stop that now, I thought you knew.'
26. 'But it wasn't with anyone else. It was only you.'
27. 'How did I know? I thought you wanted it too.
28. I thought you were like the rest. Well, what's to be done?'
29. 'To be done' 'Is it all right?' 'Yes.' 'Sure?' 'Yes, but why?'
30. 'I don't know, I thought you where going to cry.
31. You said you had something to tell me.' 'Yes, I know.
32. It wasn't anything really... I think I'll go.'
33. 'Yes, it's late. There's thunder about, a drop of rain
34. Fell on my hand in the dark. I'll see you again
35. At the dance next week. You're sure that everything's right?'
36. 'Yes,' 'Well, I'll be going.' 'Kiss me...' 'Good night..’ 'Good night.'


1. What differences exist in the dialogue of the two speakers? How do those differences characterize the tone of the speaker’s voice?

Voice, persona, speaker

In the poem there are two different speakers. The first speaker is a girl and the second speaker is a boy. Both of the speakers are probably in their adolescent stage. [Lines 34-35] Their dramatic monologue and dialogue have shown that they have two different ideas and opinions on a particular subject—love. [Line 1]
Tone, perspective

Attitude of the speaker toward the subject

The first speaker manifested a remorseful tone and disappointment that her feelings were reciprocated by the boy whom she loved. Her feelings on the time of their encouter were sincere. On the other hand, the boy did not really intend to love the girl as he mentioned that it was only fun and that everything was just a game. [Lines 1 and 17]

Fresh or surprising perception of the extraordinary in the ordinary

In the dialogue, the girl knew that men often treat women as games but she insisted on loving the boy since she was expecting that he had treated her differently as compared to how men treat other women. [Lines 15 and 16] Similarly, the boy had an assumption the the girl knew and accepted what they had, thinking that she was like other women. [Line 28]

2. What do the questions, ellipses and the repeated words contribute to the poems tone?

a. Arrangement of words, phrases and lines
The words used by the poet conveyed both of the speakers’ subtle emotions toward each other. The questions given by the woman show that she’s confused as to the real emotions given by the man. She wanted to find out if the guy didn’t really feel love for her. She couldn’t believe that the man only treated her as nothing but mere fun and games.

The girl’s repetition of the boy’s lines shows her disbelief over the boy’s statements and her desire to clarify her assumptions with the boy. The poet’s style of repetitions of “it’s done” [Line 11] and “what’s to be done” [Lines 28 and 29] have exceptionally shown a change in the semantic impact of the poem, these lines underlying implications that the girl and the boy did something more than just a kiss and a dance. It can also be said that the boy may have done something more sensual to the girl, as in the context of sex [Lines 22 and 26]. Another evidence is the presence of metaphors comparing girls to a blackbird drowned and to a kitten as it was pushed to a pool and thinking of these acts as fun [Lines 12 to 14].

b. Punctuation
The ellipses show that there are some thoughts that both speakers would have wanted to say but they couldn’t. When the girl said that she had to go, the ellipsis in her statement would have implied that she wanted to say something about what happened between her and the man but she didn’t get the courage to speak because she found out that everything was meaningless to the boy. [Line 32] The ellipses on the boy’s statements however showed that regardless of some positive statements that he siad about girls, he wanted to point out it was all plain fun for him and what happened between him and the girl meant nothing [Lines 19 to 22].

Naming of Parts by Henry Reed


1. Each stanza of “Naming of Parts” contains two distinct voices. Where do the first voice end and the second begin? Describe and characterize each voice.

Henry Reed’s poem "Naming of Parts," talks about a British sergeant-instructor delivering a lecture to his green recruits on the various parts of a rifle. Reed based the poem on his experiences in the Royal Army Ordnance Corps from 1941-1942.
As seen on the previous page, each stanza includes two voices; the first voice comes from the instructor who taught his recruits on the proper cleaning of the weapon [line 2], has taught parts of a rifle [lines 1 and 4] throughout the lecture and to be followed the next day by teaching what should be done after firing [line 3].

The second voice on the other hand refers to the thoughts of a recruit during the time that the parts of the rifle are being named. While the instructor explains the parts, his mind wanders, and along various lines of the poem the recruit’s inner monologue manifests that he is trying to make sense of what he is being taught.

Several lines have shown in the poem that these two voices refer to two different things. While the instructor aims to teach concepts about weapons used in war, the recruit tries to use the instructor’s words in thinking of a different place in which weapons and war are inexistent. [Lines 28 and 29]

2. Pinpoint the place where the two voices converge. What is the effect of their convergence?

In the first stanza, the instructor’s statement on the “naming of parts” [lines 1 and 4] refers to the explanation on the parts of a rifle. On the other hand, the recruit’s “naming of parts” [lines 6 and 30] refers to the elements manifested by the presence of Spring. Consequently, as the first voice explains the parts on the second stanza, he mentions that there are some which the recruits’ guns “have not got” [line 10]. This implies that the instructor is using an older version of a rifle which includes the parts as mentioned in the poem. The recruits are using newer versions of the rifle which do not have some of the given parts. The recruit also uses the same statement [lines 12 and 28] imposing two different ideas. On line 12, he says “which in our case we have not got”, which means that they do not experience the beauty of spring [lines 10 and 11] because of the war. On line 28, he mentions the lines “which in case we have not got”. This means that in the absence of rifles and of the war, they would be able to experience the silence and the beauty of nature during Spring.

The lines that include “easing the spring” have different meanings based on the structure and the source. “Easing the spring” [line 22] shows the action of moving the cartridges of the rifle toward the breech. The recruit on the other hand, mentions the same statement twice [lines 24 and 25] in which spring is written with an uppercase S. This changes the context of the line, since Spring refers to the season instead of the part of the rifle.

The use of the instructor’s last lines as the recruit’s first words shows the convergence in the sense that their statements are given spontaneously during the time the lecture is taking place. While the instructor tries to teach the parts of the rifle, the recruit uses significant parts of the lecture to imagine a place that exists in the absence of war [lines 25 to 30].

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

Jing is...

On hiatus. For a change.

Before I start working again, let me just ask you this:

Should I wait? Because I don't know. I am lost. In these times, when I think I need answers more than ever, I just become more confused, baffled, stationary and stranded. It's like I always hope and pray that things will get better but they don't. It's becoming a vicious cycle. I am not happy about it. In fact, I don't know what to feel anymore.

Thursday, August 20, 2009


I'm waiting for a miracle.

This is so hard to explain. When somebody waits for a miracle, there is a big chance of missing things that truly matter. Because of faith, he sees past through all the he thinks are unnecessary. I'm in that same spot. While everyone else is making a move, trying to prove themselves that they can do something, here I am waiting for the opportunity and the right moment to act, when I knew all along I should have acted long before. Still, I wait because I think things will be a lot better if I do.

What if I fail?

I am afraid of knowing the answer.

Slowly, I see myself regressing. This isn't what I want to put myself into but because of different consequences that I have to be responsible for, I cannot move forward. It's so frustrating.

I envy people who start doing things for themselves not because they want to but because they have to. I can't be entirely like them.

These days, I am a vacuole, or a big _________ that I need to fill up. It sucks.

Friday, August 7, 2009

Super Junior is ♥

I painted hearts on my favorite SuJus. I just ♥ them ^-^

Random Rant [Again]

Alvin celebrated his birthday last Wednesday. With some of our closest friends coming over after work, we dared defy the raging winds and the exaggerated flood filling the entire street right outside Alvin's house. The night started with a few songs which then led to a little kantiyawan over Alvin's preempted previous relationship with someone whose name I'd rather not mention. It was fun, as I missed being with these people who can actually talk rhetorically without even trying really hard to.

I fought so hard to pull back tears as I watched Cory's funeral procession dated Wednesday evening. It's been a long time since I realized how proud I am as a Filipino and now I felt it amidst the country's loss of a truly remarkable leader. She's a woman who has indeed shown the people that yes, Filipinos who are like her are worth fighting, living and dying for.
Inconsistencies never cease to baffle and frustrate me. In simple situations like salary computations, beliefs, opinions and emotions, love and friendship, I notice that people never become stuck to one train of thought. Everything depends upon other things and the hardest part about it is not the inconsistency per se, rather the adjustment that they have to make in order to understand it.
By nature, we are vain. We just don't want to confess because we perceive vanity as a negative term. Perhaps the negative part of being vain is its effects on other people who do not understand it.

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Sunday, August 2, 2009

Meet the Robinsons

Lewis: Look, I'm sorry your life turned out so bad. But don't blame me you messed it up yourself. You just focused on the bad stuff when all you had to do was... let go of the past and keep moving forward...

Sunday, July 26, 2009

Good Riddance

So take the photographs, and still frames in your mind
Hang it on a shelf in good health and good time
Tattoos of memories and dead skin on trial
For what it's worth it was worth all the while
It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right.
I hope you had the time of your life.
-Good Riddance, Green Day

Jax's last day at WELS Academy
Taken on the 24th of July, 2009
Rock on, Sir Jax.

Monday, July 20, 2009

I am Responsible for My Rose

It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.
-Antoine Saint Exupery
I have always had that mantra since I first read it in grade school. I marveled at the beauty of its words, the profoundness of its meaning and the thought that, as far as values are concerned, this never ceases to remind me of what is timelessly true: that we humans should see not just with our eyes, but also with our hearts.

We have what we call the transcendent values, those which do not become outdated. They live on for centuries and the absoluteness of these values defies the concept of change. If you look at the quote, ponder on it and think about its relevance to life, in the end we'd come realize, it is true. The values of the most important things in this world are constant through the years. The belief of a supreme being is transcendent, his existence is yet to be proven but he is worshipped and praised for his greatness. The value of life does not change regardless of the change in time and space. All humans deserve the glory of living. We do not see these things, we do not touch them but within us, we feel their worth.

When we possess immaterial things like love for and from our partners and sturdy affection from our families, we tend to overlook the price of these ties because we shift our focus to matters of consequence, those things that we think truly matter. We think about salary, promotion, incentives, expenses, debts and savings. By doing so, we look past through the thoughts of spending time with what matter above everything else–people who give meaning to almost every day of our lives.

They say that with forming values come intellect and will. True enough, nothing is willed unless it is first known. The passion and will are super ceded by realizing and knowing true worth. If everyone would only see what really is essential, if everyone could only try to look past what they can hold and see, maybe, just maybe, life will be a lot easier and gratitude will never be difficult to express.

The Teaching Profession

When I was in elementary, I was definitely not used to write on notebooks. My books were always highlighted and for me, taking down notes was the lousiest part of being a student. There was a time when my teacher instructed us to fall in line, in front, because she wanted to check our notes. She wrote two things on the board, two consequences which I had already known I would get before it was even my turn to have my notebooks checked:

1. A ruler slapped on my wrist and the left sideburn pulled up;
2. A letter to the parent.

The physical punishment was not the painful part of it; it was being told off by my parents without due justifications from my part. Until now, I can cite reasons for not taking down notes during that year. In sheer diffidence I just have to point this out: I was a consistent honor student in elementary, and I didn’t take down notes; I knew I didn’t have to. It frustrated me, that I was forced to do something which was not my style of learning. First, I highlighted important details in my textbooks, which according to my teachers that time was very “messy and disorganized.” Second, everything that was discussed was already on the books and the process of rewriting the textbook content on notebooks would be redundant and obviously unnecessary because no additional information was even discussed. Third, my notebooks only had assignments in it, because all the lessons that I needed were in the books. Fourth, I was never motivated to be THAT diligent in that class. It’s a shame that it was an English class, when I was in fifth grade.

Fast forward to the time that I was on my fourth year high school—I learned from the best teacher I had met back then. Every time I would see her, even until now, it’s like I’m barred from speaking the English language, not because she intimidates me, but because she effaces that idea that I know all that I need to know about English. She inevitably makes me feel modest, without even doing anything. Yes, she’s that good, and the best part about it is, she doesn’t brag—well, she doesn’t have to; it just shows. She became my English teacher during my fourth year. She taught us everything she knew about thesis writing, she educated us about grammar (what we know and should have known long before), she gave me a lot of opportunities to compete in and out of the campus, and the most wonderful thing about it was, she inspired me to be like her. Surprisingly, she graduated from the same university that I’m in right now. She was even a Cum Laude.

By and by I was pushed by my parents to take up nursing, but I ended up taking education because I have always wanted to be a teacher. I wanted to change things. It may sound radical these days for a teacher to say that she wants to change billions of lives but I know that it’s still possible. Dr. Hicarte was my high school teacher’s professor when she was still in PLM. My high school teacher said she was also inspired by Dr. Hicarte. With the way the influence was passed on, I can’t see the impossibility and the superficiality of changing youth’s lives.

A year from now, I’ll start teaching. Hopefully, I’ll be given a jumpstart in a special public institution. When I heard that the first task in “Teaching Profession” was an essay on personal philosophies of teaching, I felt great, not because I knew what to write, but because I had to know what to write. I thought, for three consecutive years, I have always known what philosophy pragmatically means.

First, although there are other reasons for a student to flunk a subject, the teacher still has a major part in the blame. At the end of the day, a teacher can say “well, that student is not really good and I can’t do anything about it”, but to me, there will always be guilt—a feeling that I have not really achieved my goal. That’s why when I teach I always make sure that everyone understands the lesson. This leads to my second philosophy.

Patience is really a virtue. Sometimes no matter how repetitive the lessons have been taught, the students still can’t understand every word of it, and your part is to discover ways to teach and re-teach the lessons. Impatience breaks a lot of abilities in a teacher. It breaks creativity, interest in teaching and relationship with students. It’s sad that when a teacher snaps a nerve, she does the unthinkable like throwing books, giving unjust deductions and such, but sometimes, under reasonable circumstances I know that a teacher should always try to keep her composure.
Third, I firmly believe that the bigger part of learning in the class should be for the students. Everything should be geared towards their improvement. In my mock teaching during a class with Dr. Hicarte, I used to talk a lot then I realized that my students should do the major talking. Same goes when I already move out of PLM. I know that my class should be student-centered and I just have to motivate them to talk and freely express themselves.

Fourth, I believe in reinforcements, but not in verbal and physical retributions. Bruner is right when he said most of the time, something stimulates a person to act or react depending on the situation. In a class, a student would do better and would always strive to get better grades if he gets praised for having a good performance at school. Now if it goes the other way around, I believe in subtle reinforcements like pairing the student with the top of the class, or giving him second chances during recitations. Punishments would only cut the student’s remaining interest with the subject. Likewise, I have always believed that intimidation will never do a student any good.

Finally, the learning environment should stimulate the interest among the students. Imagine being inside the room with an air-conditioning unit turned OFF. Imagine having to fan yourself for the whole sixty minutes of the class. Think of a public high school scenario like this: 2 of the 4 fluorescent lights blinking, almost about go out, no curtains to block the raging heat of the sun and no decorations for students to look at. At first I kept on telling myself, being a class adviser will be the last thing that I’d want when I become a teacher, but every time I picture that same scene in my head, I’d always rebut myself.

Just this morning on my way to school I was a signage on another jeepney that says: “I never said it was easy. I said it was worth it.”

Indeed, teaching has always been a difficult profession through the years, but I know, hard work will always be paid off in more than a thousand ways. With these philosophies in mind, I know I can push through, and hard work will always be compensated through my students.

Monday Musing

One of these days, you'll ask yourself, "why am I here?" when you have all the reasons to leave but you still stay. When the day comes that you have to answer the question by applying an appropriate action, be ready and be careful what to choose; because your decisions can either temporarily make you, instantly break you or can even make no changes at all.

Friday, July 17, 2009

On Time and Space

I'm drunk. Seriously drunk, sober, whatchamacallit while writing this entry, and I am not really proud of it. 

Well maybe I am, if only for the confidence it gave me while I was doing this post.

Anyway, I got into a very brief conversation with a friend a few minutes before midnight. I asked and wondered how she's been. I could tell from her tone that she was not in the mood to talk to me. Little did I know, that she no longer wanted to.

"Are you mad?" I asked, as if I didn't really know.

"I don't know. Honestly Jing, I'm tired of running after you and begging for your time. I always ask you to spend time with me, and you always have reasons not to."

"You know what, fine."

After hanging up, I realized, our friendship was so short-lived, it didn't need words to die, it only needed absence of time. 

For what its worth, let me tell you this: when people demand for your time, which you could not give, every reason you can think of is not really a valid way out. It's even a hint, of how less important they are to you. When you intend to share time, no reason can stop you from doing so. Proximity is relatively not important. Time is. 

I've always believed that time is the greatest gift that you can ever give a person. I give time and spend time with people who I consider very important to me.

Sadly, she spent time begging for a few hours that she could be with me, so that I would feel important, and by what I just said, I made her realize, I haven't been worth running after for all along. 

That, my friends, is sad.

Lesson: Learn how to value people who spend time for you.
There are a very few of them left. :)

Thursday, July 16, 2009

The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams

"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."

"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?""It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand." 

15 Books in 15 Minutes

I tried to recall some of the best books that I read in fifteen minutes.

1. Harry Potter 1 to 7
by JK Rowling

2. Lord of the Rings
by JRR Tolkien

3. The Little Prince
by Antoine de Saint Exupery

4. A Hundred Years of Solitude, Love in the Time of Cholera
by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

5. The Catcher in the Rye, Franny and Zooey
by JD Salinger

7. Skin, BFG, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
by Roald Dahl

8. Coraline, The Wolves in the Walls, I Swapped My Dad for Two Goldfish, American Gods, Sandman
by Neil Gaiman

9. Eleven Minutes, Veronica Decides to Die, By the River of Piedra I Sat Down and Wept, The Pilgrimage
by Paulo Coelho

10. The Bluest Eye, The Beloved, The Song of Solomon
by Toni Morrison

11. Things Fall Apart
by Chinua Achebe

12. Eating Fire and Drinking Water
by Arlene Chai

13. Like Water for Chocolate
by Laura Esquivel

14. Dance, Dance, Dance; Sputnik Sweetheart, Hard boiled Wonderland and the End of the World
by Haruki Murakami

15. The Wizard of Earthsea
by Ursula LeGuin

The list goes on, but 15 isn't enough. Sigh.

Anyway, I got this from my student's blog:

Work like you don't need the money,
Love like you've never been hurt,
Dance like nobody's watching,
Sing like nobody's listening,
Live like it's Heaven on Earth.
Thanks Annie.

Monday, July 13, 2009

BSE Flashbacks

Dear BSE,
I have been keeping this blog for a couple of months now, yet I haven't written anything about you. What hurts even more is the fact that, I graduated without telling you how much I would miss our batch.

Everytime I look at this picture, it reminds me of how grouped, ungrouped, individually diverse, and unified our class had been for three years. I always look back at those silly arguments, petty fights, simple jokes and funny musings of each one of us and everytime I do, I sigh and secretly wish, I could go back to being a student, if only it means working and having fun with you guys again.

I may not be significantly adept at leading the class at all times, I may have had shortcomings that affected how the class performed in the different subjects that we took--but you understood. We may have had series of misunderstandings, episodes of disappointments, but you just said, let's move forward. Until now, I couldn't forget these things. Ergo, I couldn't really move on.  

I may have unresolved issues with some of you, and until now it bothers me that sadly, I work and earn money without anticipating any chances of spending it just to be with you, whom I really want to be with. For what its worth, let me say I wanted to go back to those times when everything was just simple--you may be talking about me, or about everyone else, but we didn't mind, and it never really mattered.

I want to study again and share grievances with you, whose complaints sounded more like funny remarks. We have become outlet of frustrations of one another. We used to work for more than 18 hours, but it didn't matter because we worked with and for one another. Stress didn't stop us from having fun. Unlike these days, when we feel stressed we just prefer to stay at home and sleep.

Namimiss ko na kayo. Sobra. Mag inuman naman tayo. Magusap, magkape, mag ingay.

PLM BSE-English
Batch '09

Saturday, July 11, 2009


Yey. :|

Friday, July 10, 2009

On Knowing Oneself Better

I took a personality test and this is how it turned out:

Your view on yourself:
You are intelligent, honest and sweet. You are friendly to everybody and don't like conflict. Because you're so cheerful and fun people are naturally attracted to you and like to talk to you. 

The type of girlfriend/boyfriend you are looking for:
You are a true romantic. When you are in love, you will do anything and everything to keep your love true.

Your readiness to commit to a relationship:
You are ready to commit as soon as you meet the right person. And you believe you will pretty much know as soon as you might that person.

The seriousness of your love:
Your have very sensible tactics when approaching the opposite sex. In many ways people find your straightforwardness attractive, so you will find yourself with plenty of dates.

Your views on education
Education is very important in life. You want to study hard and learn as much as you can.

The right job for you:
You're a practical person and will choose a secure job with a steady income. Knowing what you like to do is important. Find a regular job doing just that and you'll be set for life.

How do you view success:
You are afraid of failure and scared to have a go at the career you would like to have in case you don't succeed. Don't give up when you haven't yet even started! Be courageous.

What are you most afraid of:
You are concerned about your image and the way others see you. This means that you try very hard to be accepted by other people. It's time for you to believe in who you are, not what you wear.

Who is your true self:
You are mature, reasonable, honest and give good advice. People ask for your comments on all sorts of different issues. Sometimes you might find yourself in a dilemma when trapped with a problem, which your heart rather than your head needs to solve.

Thursday, July 9, 2009

Children of Bangkal

I miss these children.
I want to go back to Bataan soon.
I want to play with them again.

Let the Picture Speak for Itself

I have no other words to explain this.

Tuesday, July 7, 2009


The simplest things that can make a woman truly happy are the things that a man cannot easily give. and vice versa.

Friday, July 3, 2009

They're Back

Yes. They're back.

Monday, June 29, 2009

Beats the Crap Out of Me

I feel like someone's singing this to me. XD

I Don't Think I Love You-Hoobastank

Wonder why it is that you don't see
What you've changed since we first met
And how much that is killing me
I know that I will always miss
The butterflies of our first kiss
And how you use to smile so easily

I wish that we could go back
To what we were before
But I don't think that I love you anymore, anymore


It's too hard to keep pretending
It's too hard to ignore
But I don't think that I love you anymore, anymore
I'm sorry, I'm sorryI never thought that it will come to this

I know we'll never get back
To how we were before
Cuz I know that I don't love you anymore

Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen [Soundtrack Album]

Nice songs. Click here.
[I haven't seen the movie.]

Traffic in My Head

This is the third time this week
That I find myself wandering down your street - and I can't seem to give it up.
I've even stopped making these excuses for why you're stuck here in my thoughts
When it's been long enough.

I try to keep myself moving, but I'm not going anywhere..

I wait in the same spot
Brain like a parking lot
You're the traffic in my head
You're the reason why i'm wrecked
I pray for it to stop
Like rain on the sidewalk
Traffic in my head
You're the traffic in my head
There's just too much to forget

Guess I should be happy now
Everything is back to how it was
Before you came around
I'm already changing
I've even tried to find a new distraction
But still you surround
As if it's not hard enough

And I try to keep myself moving
but i'm not going anywhere

I wait in the same spot
Brain like a parking lot
You're the traffic in my head
You're the reason why i'm wrecked

I pray for it to stop
Like rain on the sidewalk
Traffic in my head
You're the traffic in my head
There's just too much to forget

A part of me thinks that i'm going crazy
The world's spinning
My vision is hazy
And none of this makes any sense
I never meant for this to end
I can do what I have to do..
If I could only get around you

I wait in the same spot
Brain like a parking lot
You're the traffic in my head
You're the reason why i'm wrecked

I pray for it to stop
Like rain on the sidewalk
Traffic in my head
You're the traffic in my head
There's just too much to forget.


This reminds me of something.

Friday, June 26, 2009

For In Death There's Life

Thank you for the music.
No scandal could ever overshadow your legacy.

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Back to the Meaning of Life

Andy, Borgy and I have a midnight routine of walking from Emerald Avenue to Shaw Boulevard. On the way, we always stop at Nutrilicious to sit down and talk about issues at work and at home. Andy buys green tea, Borgy buys his mango drink, and I always go for chocolate. We smoke, laugh and sometimes sit in silence, not because we run out of words but perhaps we just want to have our share of private thoughts.

We go over frustrations at work. We think about what would happen in the next few days. Andy talks more so most of the time, Borgy just counters his claims or gives his opinions on the issues and I just listen and respond whenever I deem appropriate. At some point in our conversation last Friday, Andy initiated a topic about the path that he passionately aims to take.

Passion, as I see it, is a term so profound yet so commonly misused these days. It may refer to an intense desire to do something, or a flaming will to have somebody. Sexually, passion begets passion by an individual who expresses with no holds barred. Intellectually, it may involve religious yearning for knowledge. Professionally, it may refer to sustaining the kind of living that an individual has without losing the interest he exerts everyday.

While Andy was talking about his thoughts about his career and his short-term plans, I stared at him with my mind filled with irrelevant thoughts about what I should do once I get home, what I would do in the next couple of hours and what my breakfast would be.

Anyway, at the back of my mind, I told myself: Would I be like them? Would I be able to sustain this kind of determination to handle responsibility? Yes, I work, but will I still want to do this in the next few years?

Relatively, some filipinos have a negative trait called ningas kugon; a habit in which an individual is driven to accomplish something and in the long run loses the will to continue. Regardless of the reasons or excuses provided for the sudden loss of interest, the trait hinders a person from being spontaneous in thoughts, goals, words and actions. By failing to realize the need to finish the task, people involved in the plans are slowly affected, thus creating a bigger flaw in the movement of goals on a bigger scale.

Passion, in this regard, may seem essential, as it pushes an individual to do more. In this society where one thinks it's hopeless to make a small thing matter, passion influences people to be more intrisically motivated, thus, making them more efficient in doing the things they really want to do. Because of this, even the smallest actions become important and even the simple thoughts are given life.

To answer my question: honestly, I have no idea.

Fast forward--He asked me a question this evening while we were having our usual Nutrilicious break.

"Are you happy?"

Then I smiled.

"You mean, with everything?"

"Yup, are you generally happy?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Why are you happy?"

It depends on how you define happiness; then I stopped for a split-second to figure out if what I said was correct.

People have different definitions of happiness. If you put it that way, it's like saying that happiness is relative. Is it?

I am happy because I have money, work and food.

More significantly, I am happy because I know I am loved. I know how imperfect I am but people still decide to understand me for who who I can never be. At times I feel frustrated that I cannot make things happen as I want them but I pull strings and at the end of each string, something good still happens. I am happy because I know how to love. To express this in so blunt a statement makes it sound insincere, but yes, I know how to give love. I can look at people and tell them that I can be so emotionally attached; no more, no less. Just love. Finally, I am happy because regardless of how flawed my world could be, I can still make ends meet. At the end of the day, I can still tell myself that Hallelujah, life is good.

If there is anything more I could wish for, it is for people to realize that they are happy to have me.

Going back to the question he imposed in our conversation, I looked at him, smiled, sipped the remaining contents of my cup and finally threw my yosi.

Just like a line from a movie, I told him, "I'm happy--well, not all day everyday, but yeah, everyday."

The topic was followed by the same bastusan and green jokes that we never grew out of.

Last question, however irrelevant this may be: Can something nutricious be delicious?

Of course. Haha.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Bob Ong Says

"Huwag magmadali sa babae o lalaki. Tatlo, lima, sampung taon, mag-iiba ang pamantayan mo at maiisip mong hindi pala tamang pumili ng kapareha dahil lang maganda o nakakalibog ito. Totoong mas mahalaga ang kalooban ng tao higit sa anuman. Sa paglipas ng panahon, maging ang mga crush ng bayan nagmumukha ding pandesal, maniwala ka."

Sarangae Michi Go Gata Boy. Haha.

No, thanks. XD

Monday, June 22, 2009

Teyna Mow

I may not have the power to kick you out of the palace you borrowed from the people. I may not have the microphone that rallyists use to shout for justice and freedom of the country from your subtle [or should I say clear-cut] means of stealing money;
but I have
will never have your name on it.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009




Gae eulga e olchangi han mari
GGomul GGomul hae umchi da
dweet dariga ssok~ appdariga ssok~
palddak palddak gaeguri dwetne~
Ggomul ggomul(x4) olchangi
gadweet dariga ssok~
appdariga ssok~
palddak palddak gaeguri dwetne

Thursday, June 11, 2009