running with lights blurred

closed

2005-12-08T10:29:00.000+08:00

hey all, this blog is officially dead. :) if you want to continue reading my rants and stuff, go to blurredlights.livejournal.com

yeah. :)

share a secret

2005-05-09T10:43:00.000+08:00

click here

a friend shared this link, and now I'm sharing it with you.

I've never shared my problems--my real problems--with anyone because I don't want to burden people. Why? Because most of the time, the person you're sharing your problem with, has a bigger problem than yours.

For the last couple of years, I tried to change. Because of my way of thinking, I never let anyone in. Not even my family. So I wanted to change. I started telling some people some of my problems. The little ones. The unimportant ones. Yet they were important, because they connected me with other people.

A couple of months ago, something happened that really brought me down. And though, after the initial breakdown, I told everyone I'm fine--I wasn't. Last month, I went further down in depression. Until my friend gave this link. Now, I'm not depressed.

I'm not happy either, but the more important thing is: I'm no longer depressed on how unfair life is to me. Or how everything seems to be turned against me. You know why? Because life is unfair for everyone. And the world isn't just against me--it's against everyone. Why should I feel sorry for myself when everyone feels the same way? And reading these secrets shared by anonymous people helped me see that.

And though I'm far from being "okay", I am okay.

promotions

2005-04-12T20:55:00.000+08:00

The Org Does It

2005-03-23T07:02:00.000+08:00

MOOD calm

Even before I came to study at Ateneo de Manila, I already knew what organization I wanted to join. Writing had always been the love of my life (might be why I’m still single, but let’s save that for another story), so I was determined to get into the staff of a literary folio. Back then, I thought that once you were part of the folio, you automatically get published. Enter Heights.

The recruitment week that year was held on the last week of my first month at Ateneo. If the sudden change of scenery and the barrage of new names and faces I have to remember wasn’t enough to drive me mad, then recruitment week would’ve done me in. It was a good thing that I was already crazy. On the first day, I looked for the Heights’ stall. I found it and was instantly asked by two bubbly girls which staff I wanted to join. My heart (or rather, my head) swelled. I told them I wanted to join the english staff.

That day, I visited the high school I graduated from. Since there were classes during that time (the joys of being a college student, and going home early), I wasn’t allowed to loiter. I ended up talking with the school paper advisor, and I told her about Heights. She told me that from the spiel I was given, I might fit better with the production staff. Why? I asked. That’s when she told me that what I used to do for our school paper, and for our yearbook, were the things a production staff member does. The next day, I signed up for that too.

I tanked the interview--both of them. I used to have this thing, when talking with new people, where I get intimidated and my head just goes blank... and basically, I start talking gibberish. That was what happened during the interview for the english staff, and the interview for the production staff. That was why, when the results were released, I wasn’t just mildly surprised that I got in the production staff. I was ecstatic. There’s always the next year for the english staff.

But by the time the second semester started, I didn’t even know if I’m still going to be part of Heights the following year. I hadn’t been attending the meetings, and I was too intimidated by these literary people. But having no other organizations, I swore that I’d do better--so I could stay in Heights.

When I received the text message telling us of the next Production staff meeting, I went. That was the only meeting I had attended that year, and they wanted everyone to sell tickets to Universes, a Heights poetry-reading. I was so sure that I wouldn’t get in Heights again. If there was something I was definitely bad at, it was at marketing. I’m not good with money. Fortunately for me, I had block mates.

The event was the first poetry-reading I’ve been to. But before that, I sweated my ass off by hauling large pieces of chairs and other heavy things that I can no longer remember. That was when I met Jillaine Lanuza--future Editor-in-Chief. We were both just production staff members then, and all I could remember of her was that she was really friendly, and though she was a girl, she didn’t have any complaints about hauling heavy things.

After Universes, I didn’t attend meetings again. I focused on my Filipino 12 class, because I was having a hard time with it—and my grades were slipping. I thought it was the end of my stint in Heights. I was so wrong.

It was during summer vacation when I received the text message from Jillaine (Jilly) about re-applying for Heights. She had just been appointed Secretary-General, and there were some things that were needed to be done during the summer break. I figured I wouldn’t lose anything, so I went to school and did as I was told. Who would’ve guessed that I would be part of the editorial board during my third year in college?

I hold my second year in college as my best year. There were “events” that had happened throughout the year, but it only served to make me a better person. At least, I hope so. It was during that year that I started managing my time between my studies and Heights. I even had a short stint working for Tanghalang Ateneo, and an even shorter one with the Comic Collective. I eventually let the other two organizations go, sticking only with Heights. Every time something needed to be done, I was there--to the point that Jilly (or Den, the Deputy Secretary-General that year) would tell me that I shouldn’t do everything. They were the ones who nominated me for a position in the office of the Secretary-General.

Someone else actually congratulated me before I found out about it. When I found out that Den was named the Secretary-General, and that it would either be Raph (my running mate) or I could be the deputy, I already assumed that it would be Raph who would be deputy. I was wrong.

From the panicky boy from the first year, to the hard-working staffer in the second year—I’ve really gone a long way. I’m not saying that the changes I’ve gone through were all because of Heights. It’s not. Heights just helped in bringing out my self-confidence--by trusting me.

Note: I wrote this for my non-fiction seminar class, during the school year of '04 - '05. Reading this now... apparently, they don't trust me that much.

A Good Person, When Dead

2005-02-19T09:50:00.000+08:00

MOOD contemplative

“Was it you who spoke the words that, things would happen but not to me…” That’s how the song “You and I Both” begins, and that one line pretty much sums up my life for the past seven years. I’m never the one who’s the center of attention; I’m always the supporting actor who prods the story to move forward for the main characters. Not that I mind, because who would want to be scrutinized by people. I, certainly, don’t.

People tend to destroy lives, before putting them back together. Just look at FPJ. He was idolized by the people; he was one of the strongest candidates for presidency. And then, people started doubting his capabilities—not that there’s any; then, people started doubting his citizenship—they doubted him. That was before he croaked. As if nothing happened, the people who doubted him are now calling him a hero. He’s treated with the highest respect, not just by the common people now; he’s defended by the people who could care less during the cutthroat elections; he’s loved again. What happened? Why the sudden switch?

It’s not just FPJ. I’ve been to numerous funerals. Every single time, when it comes to paying respects and eulogies, you’ll never hear anything bad about the deceased. It’s always one Samaritan act here, one honest act there—the deceased was a freaking saint! Then, why not just build a monument for the deceased? I’m sure the church would take care of the expenses; after all, it’s for a saint.

During my mother-side grandmother’s memorial service, everyone was quiet. If anyone gave a eulogy, I probably didn’t understand because most of the people there were speaking Chinese—and I’m the Chinese who’s not fluent in speaking that particular language. Anyway, back in point, no one was still able to say anything bad about her. My mother, though she loved her mother, never liked being restricted by my grandmother when she was young. Before my grandmother died, she would tell us about her rebellion back in the days. She’d say that the reasons why she wasn’t as strict with us, was because she didn’t want us to turn out like her: always ready for a good time without thinking of the consequences. And then, grandma died. Suddenly, my mother never brought up the topic of her upbringing again, except for one time or another when she would mention that it was a good thing that she was raised well by my grandmother. Even with that though, she’s still lenient with me and my siblings—probably in fear that we would turn out like her.

I get that we need to believe some things—that in the end, it’s what the best is for us. But sometimes, isn’t it better to just be honest? I never knew my other grandmother because she died when I was really young. In our house, though, I’ve never heard anything about her. Sure, sometimes my parents would tease each other and my mom would kid about my other grandmother being a tyrant—but that’s the farthest it’s gone. No one could really say how my grandmother was, when she was still alive. She probably wasn’t very nice, if people can’t even answer questions like: “What was she like when she was still with us?”

Talking about my grandmothers, I can’t help but remember a story my friend, Zara, told me some years ago. Her favorite aunt had died and wanted to be cremated so her ashes could be scattered by a mountain cliff. Now, this aunt was supposedly a very fun person, who always makes sure that everyone around her was sincerely smiling. But then, this was a funeral—no one would be smiling in a funeral. So when they opened the urn to scatter her ashes, wind blew the ashes towards the people there. I never really thought it was funny, probably because I wasn’t there, but my friend told me it was hilarious. Everyone had started laughing as they dusted the ashes off their clothes. Even in death, Zara’s aunt made sure no one was sad.

It makes for an interesting comparison. What Zara’s story told me was that if you’re a good person; no one would need to say anything about your accomplishments. The fact that there were a lot of people with you at your resting place was already proof of a good life. But the funerals I’ve been too have always been solemn affairs wherein most of the guests were asked to come, or felt that they were required to come and pay their respects.

I don’t think there’s any question as to what kind of funeral I’d want to have, or what everyone would want to have, actually. Being a bit player in the show called life, I’d think that I can have the happy funeral I want—after all, most people like sidekicks better than the heroes, right?

Blog History

2005-01-01T09:08:00.000+08:00

MOOD happy

It's already more than a year since I created an account in Blogger, and a couple of years more than that since I started blogging. I can actually remember when I started blogging: the first April after I have graduated from college. What started out as something fun to do, it quickly evolved into life updates by the time I started college.

My reason then was because I was tired of people asking how I was. They can read about my days, weeks and months on my geocities. For a year, I kept it up--random updates about what I was doing, how I was feeling--and then, the inevitable happened. Someone asked me why I just didn't sign up for livejournal. During my first year of blogging, I was proud of my web work. I definitely didn't want to move to livejournal because updating my website is fun. The fact that it's fully customizable is a plus. Almost another year passed, and then Ragnarok happened.

It was Kae who invited me over to blogger. She created a Ragnarok community blog, but I would have to sign up to be able to post. Seeing as I would still continue my life updates on my geocities, I signed up. After all, all my blogger posts would only consist of Ragna-rants. That was a year ago: December 2003. By March of 2004, I was trying to find new ways to design my geocities. The contents I wanted to put up were all unfinished, and I was constantly finding faults in my designs.

A few Block E people had signed up for a livejournal. On the 21st of that month, I caved in. On my first post, I said that I would only post there if I'm too tired to update my geocities. A month later, the geocities account was forgotten.

When August rolled around, I posted over at my geocities that the site will forever be dead. At least, until I get my own domain and then it shall be revived again. During this time, certain people started migrating to Blogger. On the 11th of September, I followed. The first 11 posts were mainly cross-posts. This, of course, was tiring. What I did in the end, was make each blog exist for different purposes.

My livejournal account continues to be the blog where I usually post updates about my life, thoughts and reflections, and all that jazz. And my blogger account? Since the 20th of November, this has been a blog for short essays, that are no where near publishing quality, but are still stress-relieving enough that I continue to post. After all, aside from the fact that this is therapheutic, practice also makes perfect.

Happiness Happens

2004-12-12T13:08:00.000+08:00

MOOD crushed

I couldn't be happier / Simply, couldn't be happier / Well, not simply / Because getting your dreams, it's strange but it seems / A little, well, complicated / There's a sort-of a kind-of: cost / There's some couple of things get lost / There are bridges you cross you didn't know you've crossed until you cross / And if that joy, that thrill / Doesn't thrill like you think it will / Still, with this perfect finale, the cheers and the ballyhoo / Who wouldn't be happier? / So, I couldn't happier / Because happy is what happens when all your dreams come true / Well? Isn't it? / Happy is what happens when your dreams come true

There is so much good happening in my life, mixed in with the bad of course, that I can't help wondering why I don't feel happy. I mean, shouldn't I be happy? True, it seems life is always clouded over with darkness, but the silver lining always lights up everything. I mean, I only have a few people I can truly consider as my friends, but all of them are wonderful and I wouldn't trade them just to have more friends. My family's not rich, and we do have money problems, but we get by still. In fact, I can still buy some luxuries once in a while, like books or DVDs. And right now, I'm nearly tearing my hair out because of two very slacker-like groupmates, but in exchange I have three other group mates who are truly hardworking. And those are just part of my iceberg's tip.

So why am I not happy?

Happy is what happens, when your dreams come true.

But, aren't my dreams coming true? I wouldn't want to be in any other course than the one I am in now. I am part of a wonderful organization, though a bit elitist. I have people who like me and trust me, though I don't know if I'm truly worthy of their trust. I have a bright future ahead of me, and my family knows that I can be whoever I want to be. I'm given opportunities that aren't available for everyone.

So why am I not happy?

Am I dreaming someone else's dream? Do people see me as someone else, and not as the real me? Is the future that my family sees for me, not really for me but for someone else? Am I stealing somebody else's future? Are these what's making me--not happy?

I've always believed that the people who come into our lives also shape us as our lives intersect. I know I wouldn't be a writer now if it weren't for people like Angelica who supported what I wrote, who never tired to listen to my stories. I know I wouldn't be in Ateneo if it weren't for my high school friends and the secrets we kept from each other driving me to study where none of them were. I know a lot of these things in my life that had happened not because I wanted it to, though that played a part, but because of other people.

So is that why I'm not happy? Because the road I paved for myself is a road I paved because of other people? Haven't I already started paving my own road when I left the people I was once connected to behind? But then again, the first thing I had done in college was look for the people who were most like my high school friends. Not an exact replacement, but something to remind of the people I left. And in a way, they became the people who paved my road with me.

Is the road I'm paving going to end up to the land of happiness? Or is it true what a teacher once told our class: happiness happens once in a while, but joy stays forever. Or something along those lines. So should I look for joy instead?

Behind Your Back

2004-12-03T22:29:00.000+08:00

MOOD confused

Are your friends, really your friends? When we were kids, the word "best friend" is often shared loosely and taken abruptly at the drop-of-a-hat's notice. Yet we had "best" friends. Though, that provokes my mind to ask: What is a best friend?

Is it someone who will be with you through thick and thin, through dark times and happy days, through misery with patience? Is that what being a best friend entails? Do kids even have this on their minds when they tell someone that he or she is their best friend? I doubt it. Thinking about it, I think a best friend, for a kid, is someone who would agree with his or her opinion; who has the same enemy as him or her; who shares the same interests, and more. That's what a best friend is--for a kid, anyway.

But what about us? Can we safely say that those are our criterias for a best friend too? I know I can't. After all, I've never had a best friend since the sixth grade, when the person I considered my best friend couldn't even remember me after having spent a year apart. And since then, I've never had another friend that I could really confide in.

I recently finished reading Meg Cabot's Teen Idol. Before you ask what a grown man is doing reading a book for teenage girls, let me tell you that these young adult books are actually very enlightening--if not, then highly entertaining. Anyway, in the book, the main character was described as mayonnaise. Why? Because apparently, mayonnaise holds a sandwhich together. I think I'm mayonaisse. I hold all the people I like together, and I'm not intimidated by stronger influences.

True, I'm not pure mayonnaise. There are some people that I really can't stand, and though we could be really fake to each other, we do know that we can't stand each other. We give way so we don't have to cross paths. As for other people, I can say that I like less than half of the people who thinks I like them.

You see, the thing with being mayonnaise is that people take your kindness for granted. They think that since you're nice and everything, they can step all over you. If not step all over you, they try to goad you into doing things their way. If there's one thing I hate the most, it's people who think they can goad me into doing what they want. There are a number of people I know who are like this. The good thing is, it's not deliberate. Well, at least I hope not.

I'm really quite a faker. I can fake kindness and niceness in a blink of an eye. Yes, people have seen my fake niceness mask. But that's not how I fake my being nice. Believe me, when I fake kindness or niceness, I really fake it. Why do I do it? The same reason with everyone else. I like being liked. True, there are instances when I want to be the center of attention, but because I'm "nice" I'd let other people get the spotlight. That's what makes me so "nice".

And that's what make other people "nice" too. That and blatant lying about other people. I know so many people who can be so friendly to your face and so devious behind your back that I can't believe I'm not paranoid to the point that I keep wondering what they're saying about me. Well, I think not anyway.

You see, I have this one friend who told me once how friend hates buddy because buddy is such an usurper. Buddy knows I can't stand buddy too long, so we're okay. But friend oozes with sweetness whenever friend is with buddy. And to think just hours ago, friend was telling me all sorts of things about buddy.

You see how that works? Is that really how the world works? We all hide behind masks of niceness? I know that I'm no better, but at least if I don't like a person, I don't fake kindness for him or her. It's only when I like someone that I fake. Because you wouldn't want to hurt someone you like, right?

Right?

Do It

2004-12-03T19:06:00.000+08:00

MOOD pensive

Why do we hold off the things we absolutely have to do for things that are utterly pointless? Let's take me for example. I would open a document to start on my homework and end up playing three solid hours of solitaire. Solitaire! I'd rather play a boring game than actually do what I have to do! Why?

There are people who can move past procrastinating and just do what they have to do and then they have time for things that they want to do. Unfortunately, I wasn't one of those people. I'd spend more than 10 hours in front of the computer surfing the net, listening to music, playing solitaire, writing gibberish, etcetera. As for my homework? Well, it would also be open for that 10 hours I spent in front of the computer. Is there anything written there? Well, that's a whole matter entirely.

What's funny is that I love writing. I love to impart these wonderful stories I have inside my head for other people to read if not enjoy. And yet, when I am asked to write, nothing comes to mind for me to write. A teacher once said that sometimes people are afraid of blank pages. I'm not freaking afraid of a blank page. I love "dirtying" a page up with random thoughts and ideas. But when it comes to something I have to do, then I blank out. Well, until 10-minutes before I sleep where things would suddenly start zooming around inside my head.

By then though, I'd be too lazy to get up from bed to at least get a piece of paper and a pen and write them down. That's how I am. So, what should I do about it? I've thought about buying a notes book, the small one, and a pen that I could tie to the notes book. Something that would always be with men wherever I go. Unfortunately (again) it's either I'm out of money or I'm too lazy to buy these things. I know that this would help me in the long run, but I'm just too frigging lazy to actually do anything.

So what's another solution? Well, just do it. I know! How "Nike" of me. But that's the thing isn't it? To avoid stress and procrastination, just do it. Wish me luck.

Have/Want

2004-12-02T14:12:00.000+08:00

MOOD tired

Since when have we passed up on doing the things we want to do because there's something we have to do. And what exactly are the things we have to do? Work? Assignments? Responsibilities to other people? But what about our responsibility to our own happiness? Lately, I've been doing too much thinking and I found out that most of the things I do are things I have to do, not want to do. But what do I want?

That's just the problem, isn't it? I have no idea what it is I really want to do. I always need someone to help me out. I need someone telling me what I have to do. I don't remember having ever asked myself what I want to do. I know what I don't want to do, but that's not enough anymore. I want to know what I want, I want to be independent.

I don't like having to depend on other people: to ask permission before doing something. It takes too long. When I want to do something that I think would be beneficiary not just for me, I don't want to have to go through a lot of people first before I can actually do it. I don't want to do things that I like just because someone expects me to. I don't want to write ivory tower poems, I don't want to pretend that I know what other people are talking about, because half the time, I don't even have an idea what I'm talking about. I don't want to be the mayonaisse that holds the sandwhich together.

What do I want? To understand that I don't have to do what I don't want to do? Maybe. But I understand that already. I know that most of the things we do are not really important in the long run. And according to Philosophy, we should take pride in what we do, no matter how pointless it is. For what? To transcend from the workaday world? Give me a break!

Who cares about the workaday world? Can't we just live and enjoy without having to reflect on everything? Can't we just live? Apparently, I can't.

The Pains of Technology

2004-11-30T23:58:00.000+08:00

MOOD contemplative

You're either lying or have been living under a rock for more than a decade if you say you've never used a computer before. But then, if you have been living under a rock--how the hell do you know how to operate a computer enough to read this? You see, we've been so caught up with technology lately that we've been depending on it too much and have stopped appreciating life.

What brought this about? Aside from the fact that I'm playing a game of tag with my internet connection right now, our drama workshop facilitator: Mr. Niel de Mesa, said something that caught my attention. With all the current developments in technology, we crammed too much into the time we have. Whereas before we do four things a day, with internet and cellphones, we do more than seven or eight things a day now. Yes, we are more productive now--but what happened to life?

Blurred Lights: my explanation for this name revolves on the fact that we always speed through life, that if we look sideways, we only see lights blurred, running lights, and just plain blurs. Whatever happened to smelling the flowers?

Our lives now are centered on technology. Not necessarily a bad thing, but I don't think it's healthy either. Have you noticed that people now are more prone to stress? Do you remember the time when you were kids and time seemed to stretch into forever? I do. I remember the days when after having arrived from school, I would bring out my homework and do them, and a couple of hours later, I would be playing with my kid sister. We'd have hours upon hours of playing make believe.

What about now? With the computer, and the internet, and mobile phones, and PDAs, teachers (and bosses too, presumably) think that we can do more than what we normally do during a particular time. Now, we're tasked to do more than what we previously were asked to do because of the advances in technology.

I actually don't have a point with this. I just thought it would be nice to try and think of the things we miss now that we have so much to do, and yet so little time. I, myself, miss making believe that I'm a pilot of a spaceship flying towards a distant planet inhabited by pink cats. I miss dreaming that I was a giant living with fuzzy bunnies who loved to bicker. I miss getting lost inside a maze made up of pillows and blankets. I miss sitting around doing nothing, and dreaming.

Of all the things I miss, I miss dreaming the most. Because with our technology now, almost everything is possible. If it isn't, there are substitutes that can take your "impossible" dream's place. We can go around the world with a click of a mouse; be a one-man killing machine by pressing just a few keys; play God and control the lives of people, however simulated they are; we could fly from the confines of our own room; dive into the deepest waters--you get what I mean.

Nothing is impossible anymore: nothing except dreaming.

On My Dreams

2004-11-21T15:34:00.000+08:00

When I was a kid, I wanted to become a teacher, or a karate master, a fireman, or maybe a cook--I even thought of becoming an actor or a singer, but I never thought about becoming a writer. Most of my dreams centered on one thing though, I would have my own house. A mansion. My dream job changed from time to time, but my dream mansion never wavered. It was always there, and it always looked the same.

Being a kid, I would talk to anyone who would listen about my dreams. When I wanted to become a teacher, I talked to my sister's tutor. I told her that I want to teach kids too, that I want to guide younger generations into their future paths. She replied by saying that only fools would go into her profession. That no one in their right mind would take the measly salary teachers are paid to teach ungrateful children who would rather be anywhere but inside a classroom. Of course, I asked her why she was in the profession if she had those views. This isn't verbatim, but she told me that she was a fool when she chose her college course. And that she was still a fool that she still believes she's in the right job.

Up to now, I still have that dream of teaching--not as powerful as before, but it's still there. I guess I'm a fool too. But during that time when I was filled with so much aspirations, teaching was just one of the many things I wanted to do. Though, my dream of being a karate master soon dissipated as soon as ABS-CBN stopped showing Power Rangers, being a fireman, a cook and a celebrity still prevailed. My dreams of becoming a fireman soon disappeared when I realized that I'd rather start fire than put them out. So, that left becoming a cook, or a celebrity.

My 15-minutes of fame came when I was around 8 years old. My uncle was friends with a guy in a then popular mall that had Sunday shows. The show was supposedly a springboard to show business. And some of them do get contracts. They asked my uncle if he knew anyone who would want their kids to go up on stage for their Flores de Mayo. My mom volunteered my younger sister and I. The guy who ran the show liked me, and he wanted me to go on week after week. That was before we came on stage.

Thinking about it now, I can laugh about it. Back then though, I thought I had lived my worst nightmare. All those people staring at you, watching your every move. As we had been walking, I froze on the spot and couldn't move. They had to get a stagehand up on stage to guide me and my sister (who I had been holding tightly) backstage. After that, one of the regulars in the show got me to go back on stage while she sang. I could remember myself hiding behind a chair so I wouldn't have to go back. I hated the stage.

They found me and I was forced back into the stage. The whole time the girl was singing, I was frozen on the spot I was standing on, and she had to pull me backstage when she was done. It was humiliating. I was not cut out for the entertainment industry. My sister, on the other hand, was made for the glitz and glamour of the business. She came out on television a couple of times before my uncle found out and prohibited her. The entertainment business was not for our family, because we were Chinese. At least, that was what was told us afterwards.

That experience already dampened my dreams of becoming an actor or a singer. If I freeze every time I'm on stage, who the hell would hire me? But I tried out for it again when I was in high school. I auditioned for a school play. Of course, remembering what had happened before, I told our director to put me in the least important role. She gave me Mr. Leeds, and during each rehearsal only I was ready. I had my lines memorized, and I followed the director's orders to the letter. I was impressed with myself. I thought I could actually pull it off.

Let me just say that rehearsals is way, way different to the actual stage. On the day of our performance, I was nearly hyperventilating. I still remembered my lines, my blocking, everything, but I was nervous. My time came to go onstage, and as soon as I stepped out of the curtains, all was lost. Well, maybe not all. I remembered the blocking--where I'm supposed to go and what's not supposed to be there, but that was all I remembered. My lines all went up in smoke. Good thing it was dubbed, or they would've thought Mr. Leeds was a mime.

That brings me down to being a cook. As with becoming a teacher, I still want to be a cook up to now. Out of the blue, I would suddenly think of things that would make something more delicious or something I could experiment on. Of course, I can't be a cook because I'm very picky when it comes to food.

And look at me now. I'm a writer. Since when did I want to be a writer? Back in the sixth grade, I had already started writing. I never thought that it would be my career, it was just a hobby. I would write stories for my friends and then they would give me feedback.

At home, my sister and I would improvise these out-of-this-world skits using her stuffed dolls and the beds. We would make a mansion, my dream mansion, using varying sizes of pillows, blankets and bags. For years and years, this was how we would pass our free time. Play time.

By the time I had to pick a course, I was in a dilemma. I only applied to Ateneo de Manila and De La Salle University. With Ateneo, I went with the practical choice: computer science. I couldn't pick any other course that I liked, except for Creative Writing. I enjoyed writing, and if I couldn't get computer science, then I would go to creative writing. For La Salle, I chose Communication Arts, Major in Advertising Management. By that time, I knew I didn't want to go with the practical decision. I would go with the course I would enjoy.

The acceptance letters came, months later providing me with a new dilemma. Which school to go to? Ateneo accepted me in their Fine Arts program, and La Salle accepted me for advertising management. I chose Ateneo with reasons to shallow to post here. Rest assured, it wasn't because I really wanted to go to Ateneo. I'm glad I did go there though.

Now, my dreams are coming back to me. That's probably why I'm writing this right now. Some actors say that they became actors because they wanted to be so many things, and through acting, they were able to live those childhood dreams. I would say it's the same for me now. I'm writing because I want to live out all my dreams. And here I am now.

Three Years of ACP

2004-11-20T22:26:00.000+08:00

I was first introduced to the Alternate Class Program (ACP) when I was in my freshman year. There was a growing line of people in Quad 2, which was decorated with banderitas. Intrigued, I asked someone what it was for: ACP. What the hell is ACP? I lined up and eventually reached the "counter" to get an ACP manual with a piece of paper that had my username and bunch of letters and numbers that was supposedly my password.

I still had no idea what it was, so I opened the manual and started to read. What greeted me was the history of the program, an integral part of an Atenean's life. For one day, the students will go to the class THEY want to go to. Cool. Going over the manual, I couldn't decide which class I would take. That was, until I saw the blurb for Comic Culture with Culture Crash.

I had to take that class! Dude, it was Culture Crash AND computers. Two of my most favorite things! So I waited for the day when we were to register, had myself woken up at the crack of dawn and waited in front of the computer.

I risked being tardy in class just to get that class. After my first year, first semester registration, I knew Ateneans tend to be early for registration. And I guess they make up for that by being late in everything else. But yeah, I got into the class I wanted. There were 10 slots left when I registered. Cool.

But of course, registration is something totally different from the actual class itself. I knew I could care less what happens in the class: I'm getting to meet the creators of Culture Crash! That was way more than enough for me. And when the day came, I could remember apprehension because I couldn't find the classroom I had to go to. I could also remember the cold sweat when our facilitator told us that our class will get dissolved if the people from Culture Crash arrive more than 15-minutes late without sending at least an SMS. But everything I feared didn't come to fruition. My first ACP experience was a blast--and I couldn't wait for the following year.

I was surprised when the theme of the ACP that followed was going back to its roots. I didn't see any problem with the program the year before. Apparently, the people behind ACP this time wanted the Ateneans to be less apathetic. Especially with elections coming up. Most of the classes were talks. Most of the classes offered was boring. I scoured the website and the CD (which replaced the manual) for a fun class that doesn't involve leaving Ateneo. Nothing. Damn.

I took up Spirit World in the end. I'm into ghosts and stuff, so I thought this class would at least be informative, if not fun. The day of our class, I was the first to arrive. So I waited. When the speaker came, she was flanked with her husband and a lot of flunkies. The flunkies settled at the back and the talk began. Imagine my surprise when instead of ghosts, the speaker started spewing religious crap. Shit. What the hell had I gotten myself into? 10-minutes into the class, I fell asleep. I woke up an hour later, the class was ending and the speaker was still saying things about God and Jesus, etcetera. I hated this ACP class as much as I loved the one I got the year before.

This year, apprehension was afoot again. The promotion of this years ACP sucked, and only a few people knew that the CD manuals were already being given out. Fortunately, the classes offered were better than last years. There were still talks, about issues and shit, but this time, they were interesting. Most importantly, they were directed to the youth. And I quickly found two classes I wanted to be part of.

I signed up for both Writing for Film and The Garage. The former doesn't need explanation, because "duh!" The Garage is a class on video editing and photoshop. But an acquaintance got her password fucked up. Yes, ACP this year was so fun. So, I offered her one of my classes. I didn't mind whichever I get, because I was interested with both. She picked The Garage, and that was that.

It turns out, it wasn't just that. Last Wednesday, when Writing for Film was supposed to be, our speaker backed out. On the last minute. No reasons or even an excuse was given to the students, just that we were going to be given refunds and that we didn't need to move to other classes. Fine. Last Thursday, I passed by the ACP headquarters to inquire about it. They wanted me to move to another class. Fuck it all.

I asked if instead of going to another class, I just don't claim my refund and say that I did go to my class. Because I did, goddamnit! They agreed, and that was that. For real this time. Of course, that was also sixty pesos down the drain.

It seems as if my ACP experience just gets better and better each year. I wonder what mis-adventure would happen with my last ACP next year.

Thank Goodness!

2004-11-20T13:05:00.000+08:00

GLINDA

Oh what a celebration we'll have today (Thank Goodness!)

Let's have a celebration the Glinda way! (Thank Goodness!)

MORRIBLE

Fin'lly a day that's totally Wicked-Witch free!

CROWD

We couldn't be happier, Thank Goodness!

GLINDA

Yes -

We couldn't be happier,

Right, dear?

Couldn't be happier

Right here

Look what we've got

A fairy-tale plot

Our very own happy ending

Where we couldn't be happier -

True, dear?

Couldn't be happier

And we're happy to share

Our ending vicariously

With all of you

He couldn't look handsomer

I couldn't feel humbler

We couldn't be happier

Because happy is what happens

When all your dreams come true!

MORRIBLE

[And Glinda dear, we're happy for you! As Press Secretary, I have striven to ensure that all of Ozknows the story of your braverism:]

The day you were first summoned

To an audience with Oz

And although he would not tell you why initially

When you bowed before his throne

He decreed you'd hence be known

As Glinda the Good - officially!

Then with a jealous squeal

The Wicked Witch burst from concealment

Where she had been lurking -surrpetitially!

PEOPLE IN CROWD

I hear she has an extra eye

That always remains awake

I hear that she can shed her skin

As easily as a snake!

I hear some rebel Animals

Are giving her food and shelter!

I hear her soul is so unclean

Pure water can melt her!

FIYERO

What!?

CROWD

Melt her!

Please - somebody go and melt her!

FIYERO

[Do you hear that - water will melt her?! People are so empty-headed, they'll believe anything!]

GLINDA

[Fiyero! Oh - yes, thanks plenty, dearest! He's gone tofetch me a refreshment. He's so thoughtful that way!]

That's why I couldn't be happier

No, I couldn't be happier

Though it is, I admit

The tiniest bit

Unlike I anticipated

But I couldn't be happier

Simply couldn't be happier

[Well - not "simply":]

'Cause getting your dreams

It's strange, but it seems

A little - well - complicated

There's a kind of a sort of : cost

There's a couple of things get: lost

There are bridges you cross

You didn't know you crossed

Until you've crossed

And if that joy, that thrill

Doesn't thrill you like you think it will

Still - With this perfect finale

The cheers and ballyhoo

Who Wouldn't be happier?

So I couldn't be happier

Because happy is what happens

When all your dreams come true

Well, isn't it?

Happy is what happens

When your dreams come true!

CROWD

We love you, Glinda, if we may be so frank

GLINDA

Thank Goodness!

CROWD

For all this joy, we know who we've got to thank:

Thank Goodness!

That means the Wizard, Glinda

GLINDA

And fiance!

CROWD

They couldn't be goodlier

She couldn't be lovelier

We couldn't be luckier

GLINDA

I couldn't be happier

CROWD

Thank Goodness!

GLINDA AND CROWD

Today!

Thank Goodness for today!

[note: from the musical, Wicked]

are you connected?

2004-11-19T19:19:00.000+08:00

M.A.T.T. (my laptop) is finally connected to the internet. YAY!

umm, a pointless post, but--I'm just happy!

WICKED! X3

trip to the enchanted kingdom

2004-11-07T11:50:00.000+08:00

"we moved from the green meadows, along the green hills to reach the blue ridge that bordered the white plains before we reached the enchanted kingdom."

It was magical, to say the least. The first out-of-Manila trip the block took that involved more than 4 people. That is, if I'm not mistaken. The weather even cooperated nicely, with a few drizzle throughout the day and a flash rain around noon.

So, the day started with me arriving late. Everyone was already there, except for Chika. Her parents took back their permission for her to join us. Sad, but what can we do? So we left our meeting place, McDonald's Katipunan, and headed to EK. On the way, we stopped once for a gas fill-up and for an early lunch at one of the McDonald's that littered the south super highway.

Nothing much happened during the trip to Enchanted Kingdom. The girls were singing while the guys kept mostly quiet. There's the incident of the "tinted" finger, but the girls have to be the ones to tell the story. Anyway, we ended up in EK at around 11am, 2 hours after our departure from Katipunan. Not a bad time, considenring we had one stop over, and we left late.

The ticket in was a bit pricey from what I remember, but we already knew that from planning--so not really much of a problem. And I don't exactly know how to tell you how much we enjoyed the day, so I'll just give you a rundown of what I did from the moment we entered.

locker > flying fiesta > roller skates > took pictures: anchor's away > took pictures: jungle log jam > waited with Jihan and Billy while taking pictures > rialto: smash factory > rio grande > flying fiesta > roller skates > up, up and away > snacks > midway boardwalk arcade > dodge 'em > roller skates > waiting.

I rode roller skates thrice. :) I love that ride: not too high. *nod* Had a scream with Flying Fiesta. And I finally got to ride the Rio Grande Rapids. Awesome. Long line though. The Smash Factory was not really a pleasant experience--just nauseating. Perfect for our philosophy discussion tomorrow. Edlyn didn't feel too well after riding Up, Up and Away. It's a kiddie ride that makes you want to hurl, but having ridden the ride before eating--nothing much to throw up really.

Even without having ridden a lot of rides, I felt that the ticket price was well worth it. As they say, time with friends is priceless.

And now, another week of school, organization duties and home. But how can I come back after having experienced life? Hmm... Reality check?

That didn't really make sense, did it? I'm hungry. Reason enough. :)

second class, second day

2004-11-04T20:02:00.000+08:00

Okay, so I took a Non-Fiction class that I didn't really want to take, but had no other choice. Long story short, I'm in a Non-Fiction Workshop class. I wasn't really scared or anything, I just didn't like writing non-fiction. I like to write things that are more real to me than reality, and that's fantasy.

Anyway, so the teacher comes in and I swear, the first thought that came to me was that the teacher looked scary. Apparently, it's only her looks that are scary. She was very soft-spoken, and by the end of the class, I'm not so scared of her anymore. I still don't want the class though, but if I want to get in the dean's list...

The day started of course, way before that. I went to school early to deal with Heights loose ends. I didn't get to finish them all, and I even forgot to get the solicitations from the teachers. That's after not-erasing it from my mobile's memory and writing it down on a piece of paper. Well, what can I say, I have horrible memory capacity. Anyhow, we're way delayed--I haven't started the second regular issue's call for contributions, which we'll get to later, and I'm way early.

I basically did everything I possibly can with the first issue--except get the solicitations from Sir Larry. I even saved the unfinished "materials" file on a diskette and left a note for Myka on the message board. I'm not sure if she got it though. Oh well. I don't plan on going to school tomorrow 'cos I have to do some stuff here at home. I probably won't be on the computer as much. I'll be re-organizing stuff in "my" room, which is actually the study room, and doing homeworks. Aside from those... it'll be a quiet day tomorrow.

I guess, that's it. I won't go back to rehashing today. Though, I just realized how lonely I am at school now without someone who can relate to me. Yes, someone relating to me instead of me relating to someone. I don't know crap about Sylvia Plath or whoever great classical writer everyone in the pubroom's talking about. And I don't really mind. I guess, even without soul-searching, which I forgot to do over the break, I realized that the people I really care to know are those involved in drama. People like Beckett, Pirandello, Sarte, Williams, etc. Aside from dramas and plays, I like discussing TV. Unfortunately, Julian only knows Buffy and Charmed. I've moved on. Buffy's gone, 'yo! Angel's gone. I'm way advanced in Charmed than he is. What the hell are we going to discuss?

Besides, I'm more involved in LOST and Veronica Mars now. I'm even starting to lose interest in comedies. It's all about drama now. Of course, I'd still watch the occassional Scrubs.

Oh, and that reminds me. Our workshop facilitator asked us to write a little something about ourselves, and I told my friends that I'm going to post my introduction. So, here it is:

I guess I could start out by saying that I enjoy watching television. But that's just the start of the story. For most Filipinos, it is their relief, their enjoyment. I'm part of that majority, but I like to think that I am up one level than "most Filipinos." Most of my enjoyment comes from sub-stories branching out in each episode of my favorite shows. I like formulating theories about newly introduced characters and seeing if I was right or wrong later on. This could be the reason why I'm frustrated by Philippine television, but that's another story. For the most part, TV is my fire-exit away from reality, but then, some people would say television is my reality. I would disagree however, because I can still distinguish illusion from reality. Of course, I do wish that I couldn't. It'll make for an easier time living life.

All that aside, I'm thinking of re-applying for RegCom. I'll have to see if time would permit, and if interest will still be there once re-application starts. But right now, I'm thinking about it.

"Change is the only permanent thing."

Isn't that all too right?

cross-posted at my livejournal.

new photos has been posted at the photoblog.

totally messed up

2004-10-29T21:04:00.000+08:00

My second semester schedule is, like, totally messed up. Damn!

I don't even like two of the classes I ended up taking because most of the classes I wanted were taken. First, I blamed the seniors--because it is easy to pin the blame on them. After all, they are the ones who need the electives and shiz. Turns out, it was the sophomores fault after all. They took all the electives leaving only a few for the seniors and juniors. DAMN!

Next time, seniors should go first, followed by the juniors and then the sophomores and freshmen. The freshmen don't really need to get an early registration, all their classes are pre-enlisted. The only classes they need to choose are their natural science and physical education.

This has been my worst registration ever. And according to my friends, today was worse than last semester's. I actually thought to myself earlier that maybe I shouldn't have quit RegCom first--because, hello? early registration? But then, that wouldn't be fair, would it? I joined RegCom because I wanted to help--if I had stayed just for the early registration, then that would've been self-serving. And we can't have me being self-serving now, can we? *sigh* Sometimes, I wish my conscience would just go away. Or, at the very least, I could learn to tune it out. A lot of people do.

cross-posted at my livejournal.

i wonder why the wonder falls

2004-10-16T20:18:00.000+08:00

Today was my Philosophy Orals. I didn't know what to expect, so I wasn't nervous. That makes it twice now.

Early this morning, I was actually bored. I tried studying, I really did, but it just didn't work. I kept reading the thesis statements over and over, but still--nothing. Orals was delayed 20 minutes, so I went in the room at 9:05 and left 9:20. Exactly 15 minutes.

I rolled the die and got number 5.

The Socratic Irony is the starting point of all philosophizing. "I know I do not know" might therefore be the closest one can come to expressing the experience of wonder.

I kept rambling on and on about wonder and disillusionment and the workaday world. Mr. de Jesus asked me how wonder/disillusionment can totally dislocate a person's whole existence. He asked me to give an example. At first, I tried to grasp this idea through Harry Potter. He found out that the Marauders were not really the ideal people--and that everything he believed about them was not all true. Turns out, this is not total dislocation. So, I tried again. I nailed it without knowing I got it right.

I asked Mr. de Jesus if he knows Buffy, the vampire slayer. I told him about the sixth season premiere. This was the two-episode premiere where Buffy was ressurected by Willow and the gang. That was total dislocation. For the two, almost three, episodes, Buffy was cut off from her friend, her sister--everyone. From having transcended into heaven, she was brought back to hell: life on earth.

Unfortunately, what I was saying did not hit me until just an hour ago. I was finishing Stephen White's "The Best Revenge" when I got it. Wonder lets a person transcends, and that actually is already dislocation. Everything you knew, it turns out, is not as you've perceived it. You finally know that you don't know--and that destroys sanctuary. It destroys everything you believe in, everything you aspire for--everything. Your world crumbles.

I actually told him that--but I went the wrong way when I told sir that once your world crumbles, you cannot move on. You can, and you have. Because knowledge has come to pass. You have transcended. Everything is not as it was, but everything still is.

Oh well. Here's to hoping I at least got a C.

*crosses fingers*

Hoping.

cross-posted at blurredlights.

more ranting

2004-10-09T17:12:00.000+08:00

new rants can be found at my livejournal.

fragmented day

2004-10-06T20:54:00.000+08:00

read this entry, and find out why. It's towards the end, before the list of things to do.

cross-posted: adventure

2004-10-05T18:41:00.000+08:00

Only had one class today: drama seminar. But I have to say, this day has been one hell of an adventure.

I met up with Yumi early in the morning and surfed the net for a while. I helped Yumi out with her blog regarding pictures before I headed to my class. My only class. Xander asked us to evaluate our teacher and we did. I think some of us got too much into writing down our thoughts about the class and the teacher. The class itself was a little light. We submitted our "Sight and Sound" papers, he asked us to write down our top five favorite movies and asked us about our sacred place. Then he consulted with Jomike, Mitch and I.

He gave me the go-signal for my play. So I will start writing tomorrow. Tonight, I edit Desire papers. Anyhow, on to the adventure.

I asked Jihan earlier today if she'd like to go with me to GMA-Kamuning to get forms for their scriptwriting workshop. She agreed, so I waited for her last class to finish before we headed to GMA. Once there, we found out that the gates won't open until 2pm. There were already a lot of people there. Not A LOT many, but there were definitely more than a dozen.

I seriously did not think this many people would want to be scriptwriters. Do they even know how to write scripts? Anyway, Jihan and I waited for an hour for the gates to open. I guess both of us got bored eventually, and I have to say I lost a lot of saliva talking. :) I mean, I'm happy--I love to talk. But I felt sorry for Jihan and her ears. :) They were pretty worn out by the time the gates actually opened and let us in.

The scriptwriting workshop is free. They just gave us forms we should fill in, and a list of requirements to fulfill. I'm wondering though about the ID pictures. What do they need those for? And it has to be recent. Why? Are they planning for this workshop to be a reality programme? I hope not. That is, if Jihan and I get accepted. If we're not accepted, then what do I care if it's a reality programme or not. :)

As we were leaving, we chanced upon Carl who was also getting a form. Small world. :) After that, Jihan and I went to SM, had a hard time deciding where to eat (because I'm a picky/finicky eater), before separating ways. I'm pretty sure Jihan gave a sigh of relief that the adventure was over. Kidding... right?

photoblog

2004-10-04T18:14:00.000+08:00

I started a photoblog community at LJ, if you're in Ateneo's Block E--drop me a comment/PM and we'll do business.

click on the picture to head there.

wish list

2004-10-02T20:40:00.000+08:00

A list of things I want for Christmas which I will be comparing to what I actually get on Christmas... :D

CD
Jason Mraz, "Waiting For My Rocket To Come"
Rivermaya
Bamboo, "As The Music Plays"
Destiny's Child, "Destiny Fulfilled"

DVD
Buffy, the Vampire Slayer Seasons 2, 5, 6 and 7
Angel Seasons 2, 3 and 4
Popular Season 1
Spider-Man 1 & 2

Books
Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West
Twilight, A Mediator Story
Charmed Books: "A Brewing Storm", "A Tale of Two Pipers", "Survival of the Fittest"

No Category
Clothes (Shirts and Pants and Polos and...)
Shoes
School Bag (not too big, but not small)
Fashion Sense (can anyone actually give me this?)
Own Room
Money (for shopping and redecorating my room and whatever)
MP3 player

love me, love me

2004-09-11T16:39:00.000+08:00

all right, this does not mean I'm moving to blogger, I will just cross-post links whenever I post. and I guess I don't have anything else left to say, except I hate theology. :)

that's my new mantra. *nods fervently*