The Soulhunted

Powdered Milk and Biscuits

2012-01-25T16:24:00.001+08:00

I always believethat immortality isn’t real, and if there is, only God possesses that power.All people need is to spend enough time with their families because life isn’tforever. And sooner or later, one beloved may just pass away and the last thingyou could ever do is just to offer a can of powdered milk and a box of biscuits.

Itwas a cold afternoon. After a long ride from Dumaguete, I finally got off thebus. I ordered a pack of sliced bread from a local bakeshop, and eyed my phonefor the time. It was five o’clock. I needed to hurry. After a few minutes, Ifinally arrived at my grandpa’s little kubo.I fished a 50-peso bill from my wallet and gave it to the habal-habal driver.

Itwas a native house my mom built for him. My grandparents could no longerunderstand each other. My mom built a house for my grandma, too, ten metersaway from my grandpa’s, so that they could have their own place to stay, atpeace. Perhaps, they have outlived love and their age ravaged the promisethey’d exchanged in the altar.

Theirswas a life so simple. Their houses were covered with trees, plants, chickens,and cows. I always visit them from time to time. I always go there to grab aglass of my grandpa’s fine coconut wine. And the last time I saw him, he wasstill in good condition. He could even manage to climb a 20-feet coconut treeat his age of seventy plus. He always offered me a drink. That was the goodthing about him. He never ran out of coconut wine because he has got plenty ofcoconut trees.

“Lo, kumusta na manka?”I asked upon entering the dim-lit room. He was looking at the window and I wassure he didn’t hear me, or even noticed me. He sat on my Winnie the Pooh sofa.I gave itto him when I went to college because I realized that I could no longer availto sit on a kiddie sofa at the age of sixteen, even if I still liked it becauseit could rotate at 360 degrees.

“Lo?” I called again,louder this time. Then, he turned his head towards me. Surprised, he said in asoft manner, “Uy dong, ikaw diay na?” Hissincere smile made my heart jump. Though it was hard for him to move, he leanedcloser and hugged me. Perhaps, he missed me. I missed him, too. My grandparentshave been always good to me. I was their favorite.

Ihave noticed that his skin has turned yellowish-white, so pale. He seemed tohave no blood flowing through his veins at all. He smelled so old, too. I alsowondered the last time he took a good, long bath. Or perhaps, he could nolonger do that because he was tired and could no longer walk by himself. He wasso thin, and when I hugged him, he was so puny, just like a child. I kissed hisforehead and we sat down.

“Kumustana man ka dong? Dugay na man kang walay anhi-anhi,” he asked.

“Gwapogiyapun.” He smiled as quickly as I gave my answer. “Busy man gud kog skuylalo.” Then,I pulled a plastic bag underneath my chair and placed it in my lap. I showedhim a can of Bear Brand, a bottle of Efficascent oil, a pack of sliced bread, aplastic container full of biscuits, and a box of vitamins – Vitamin C and Vitamin-Bcomplex capsules.

“Ako diay ninggipalit para nimo lo,” I said, smiling at him. I told him to drink twoglasses of milk everyday, morning and night. I also encouraged him to take thevitamins because it would help him recover faster.

Hejust nodded, and then looked away. “Gikapuyna man ko dong.”

“Ayaw ana lo.Mawala imong ka-gwapo ana. Pa-hospital man daw ta ingon si Mama. Ugma dagway.”

Heshook his head, “Kapuy na man. Diri nalang ta.” He called my aunt and asked her to give me something to drink.

“Dili raba komagdugay lo. Muuli rako dayon run.”

Hepaused for a while. He looked down as if disappointed. We were silent for acouple of minutes. He looked so weak. He was as fragile as a child inside hismother’s womb. He had lost the strength of his early years.

“Pero mubalikrapud ko sunod Sabado lo,” I said in assurance.

Helooked up and said, “Ato na langtimplahon ning gatas dayun mangaon ta.” I nodded. The truth was that I wasfull. I just didn’t want to hurt his feelings anymore. We had a nice talk afterthat. I told him to be strong, and assured him that he would be okay. Ipromised him that I’d come back, too.

Atseven o’clock that evening, I went back to Dumaguete. I have felt a sense ofrelief. I had encouraged him to take the vitamins and medicines on time, and hewas attentive to that. I couldn’t wait to come back. I was happy and at thesame time sad because it was not so long ago when the two of us were planting Kamatis seeds together. The seeds weremy birthday gift for him. He has a green hand. He was always good at takingcare of his plants. He was a natural farmer.

Myphone beeped. It was a message from my aunt. I checked the time and it was nineo’clock in the morning. I stood up, grabbed a shirt and realized that I wasstill sleepy so I went back to my bed. I remembered my trip the other night,and I was hoping that a few days from now, grandpa would be fine. I took myphone to read the message: “Dong anhiniya diri. Patay na man si lolo nimo. Gipangita baya ka ato ganiha. Bag-o pajud.”

Note: This is a true story. This story was published in the Features page of the Negros Oriental State University Weekly Student Publication under my pseudonym The Soulhunted. My grandfather, Keliano Gantalao, passed away on November 2011. I wrote the first draft a day after his death. May this story touch your hearts.

Three Kids and Me

2012-01-23T00:29:00.004+08:00

It was Saturday. My two nieces, Faith, 13, and Ezra, 7, both from Cebu, came to see their sickly father. While watching Tangled at Star Movies, they asked me this one. I'll just translate our conversation in Tagalog.

Faith: Kuya ry, ano ba plano natin ngayon? (She held my arm and did some lambing-lambing while Ezra came over and sat on my lap)

Me: Marami. Pupunta tayo ng Robinson. Tapos kakain sa Jolibee. Tapos maglalaro ng counter strike. Tapos kakain sa KFC. Pupunta sa boulevard at pag-uwi ay manonood ng The Count of Monte Cristo.

Faith: May pera ka ba?

Ezra: Oo, nga. May pera ka?

Me: Akala ko kayo ang may pera?

Faith: Wala. Liar mo naman kuya.

Me: Dito nalang tayo. Haha.

But these kids overpowered me and made a tiny hole in my pocket. We ended up at Robinson's and went to a computer shop after.

The Universal Language

2012-01-21T22:58:00.001+08:00

Finally, a young woman approached who was not dressed in black. She had a vessel on her shoulder, and her head was covered by a veil, but her face was uncovered. The boy approached her to ask about the alchemist.

At that moment, it seemed to him that time stood still, and the Soul of the World surged within him. When he looked into her dark eyes, and saw that her lips were poised between a laugh and silence, he learned the most important part of the language that all the world spoke-the language that everyone on earth was capable of understanding in their heart.

It was love. Something older than humanity, more ancient than the desert. Something that exerted the same force whenever two pairs of eyes met, as had theirs here at the well. She smiled, and that was certainly an omen-the omen he had been awaiting, without even knowing he was, for all his life. The omen he had sought to find with his sheep and in his books, in the crystals and in the silence of the desert.

It was the pure Language of the World. It required no explanation, just as the universe needs none as it travels through endless time. What the boy felt at that moment was that he was in the presence of the only woman in his life, and that, with no need for words, she recognized the same thing. He was more certain of it than of anything in the world.

He had been told by his parents and grandparents that he must fall in love and really know a person before becoming committed. But maybe people who felt that way had never learned the universal language. Because, when you know that language, it's easy to understand that someone in the world awaits you, whether it's in the middle of the desert or in some great city.

And when two such people encounter each other, and their eyes meet, the past and the future become unimportant. There is only that moment, and the incredible certainty that everything under the sun has been written by one hand only. It is the hand that evokes love, and creates a twin soul for every person in the world. Without such love, one's dreams would have no meaning.

Note: This is an excerpt of Paulo Coelho's The Alchemist, a New York Times bestseller , sold over millions worldwide and was translated into 65 languages.

Cheating and Everything

2012-01-21T00:05:00.001+08:00

"There is no optical instrument in the world that works beyond the marvel of our eyes," says our teacher in one of her class discussions this early January.

The word problems were already written on the board. Each of my classmates had already crossed their fingers, muttered a short prayer, hoping that they would pass the exam and that the Holy One would forgive them to a sin they haven't done yet.

The subject was Optical Physics, one of the staggering seven physics subjects that is included in my prospectus, along with three basic and four advanced Mathematics, and two basic and three advanced Chemistry courses.

I was the only third year student in the room since all of them were already in their senior years. In other words, I have experienced being 'out of my place' every time our class commences. They have created an impermeable bond that I myself can't enter.

Our teacher said that she only wants to see a calculator, a pen, and a piece of paper in our armchair. Since I am a law-abiding citizen, I followed her instructions obediently and started solving the problems. Though I don't want to admit this, I was also confident that I could get some answers from my seatmates because they are my seniors.

Then, suddenly...

"Ryan! Psssssssttt... Do you have answers?" Then, another one. "Ry! I can't answer this. Help me. Give me some sample answers so I could get some idea." Then, I was like, "Holy Cow!" My world fell apart. First, it's because my supposed to be 'source of answers' has turned out to be a pool of irresponsible students. Secondly, I badly needed to acquire a good score in that exam so that I can get a grade higher than 84-85.

Since I've got no other choice, I started to take the exam seriously and started solving the questions religiously. And when I say religiously, I hoped that God would give me back my mathematical genius. Perhaps, genius is just an over-statement so just please bear with me.

Number one. Yes! I knew the answers to the two unknown variables. I smiled and felt happy about it. Then, they asked for my answers and I gave it to them. Number two. Yes! I was able to answer it as well and I was sure about it. I shared my answers again. THE MARVEL OF THE HUMAN EYES. Number three. SKIP. Number four. SKIP. Number five. Maybe! I wasn't sure about my answers. So I went back to number three and answered it, hoping that I could at least answer it by chance or luck.

I answered the essay question somewhat perfectly. How are rainbows formed? Rainbows are formed when rays of light are in contact with gas or liquid in the atmosphere. Therefore, we can assume that rainbows will never occur unless there are raindrops in the atmosphere. The ray of light will pass through each droplet of rain, causing the ray to scatter and form different colors, like a spectrum that consists of blue, purple, red, orange, etc. This effect is also known as 'Rayleigh Scattering', named after the Nobel Prize Winner, and English physicist Lord Rayleigh.

Then, I passed my answered sheet. Thank you BRO sa wisdom! Astig ka talaga! Kung wala ka eh siguro wala rin akong naisagot! Patawarin mo ang mga klasmeyts kung nagkasala! Kasi alam mo rin na ganun ako paminsan-minsan.

Staring at You

2012-01-17T15:52:00.001+08:00

I was sort of hoping,

That you would come along,

Like the answer to a prayer,

And the music to a song.

Like the kind of thing that happens,

At a special place and time,

That will change our lives forever,

Like a fantasy of mine.

The fantasy was there before,

I ever knew your name,

And now that I have found you,

We will never be the same.

So, pardon, if I look at you,

Forgive me if I stare,

At the fantasy I knew before,

I saw you standing there.

For I was always hoping,

That you would come along,

Like the answer to a prayer,

And the music to a song

Note: I didn't write this poem. I stumbled upon this literary art in the web and realized that this is something worth sharing. Unfortunately, this poem doesn't have a title and the writer's name revealed herself only as Rachel.

Wacky Midnight Thoughts

2012-01-16T03:06:00.000+08:00

The man is the product of his thoughts. What he thinks, he becomes...

I tried my best to sleep. I buried my head in the pillow for an hour, and in the next few minutes, I tilted my head one-hundred eighty degrees and faced the upper deck of my bed. The lights were out and nothing here made noise except the monotonous whirling of the electric fan.

I grabbed the laptop of my roommate and has decided to write about the things that make me unable to sleep. I have many reasons why I can't sleep. I have thoughts that make me a zombie. Sometimes, I wonder if this has something to do with any negative psychological behavior. Sometimes, I wonder if I am half vampire or if not, half Lycan. Things like those can hardly sleep at night. I mean, they literally don't.

Throughout the years, I have formulated bizarre habits on nights when I can't sleep. Habits that would give anyone the impression that I am crazy or simply just a jerk. First, I'd open my eyes and think of marriage, and if ever it is possible to get married at the age of twenty seven, or if the girl that I am marrying to is still available at that time. With this, I'd think if she and mom would become good friends, but I am very optimistic that the two of them will click. My mom is nice and for sure my wife would be as nice as her.

Second, I'd think about building a house, and how big or small it should be and what colors should I choose to paint the walls. Should I hire artists to paint mural arts in it? Third, I'd think about my mom and would ask myself if I can still afford a new house for her and my sister in the future. Fourth, I'd convince myself that I shall buy my wife a car for her own safety; I'll give it to her as a birthday gift.

Then, after all those wacky thoughts are gone, and if I am still unable to sleep, I would stand up and face the mirror. I would stand there for a while and appreciate all the wonderful things in it. HAHAHA. Once the self-loving is done, I would raise my two hands and start doing shadow boxing. BANG BANG BANG. I'll watch myself in the mirror again. Then, shadow boxing. Mirror. Shadow boxing. Until I get tired. I've done all those things a while ago. I'm tired so I gotta sleep now. zZzZzzzZzzZZ....

Slippers and Feet

2012-01-15T13:40:00.001+08:00

"As the game progressed, I found out that neither one of us were an adult or a kid. The boundary between childhood and adulthood has been breached, somewhat intertwined. Our hearts were one with the little monsters we played with. I realized that my age and my happy childhood memories are not parallel to each other."

When I was fourteenyears old, I had a temporary perception inside my head that college studentswere taller, smarter and more mature. That’s why whenever senior BS Educationstudents from a certain university go to our school for their practiceteaching, I had high regard for each of them. The same goes with all othercollege students, too.

But when Ibecame a college student myself, and very recently just surpassed my teenageyears, I have realized that I’m no mature nor any grown up wannabe. I haverealized that I still have a lot to learn; that I still need to find out morenot just about myself but the people around me. Most of us, if not all, stillneed a little tweaking to mature. And we sometimes wonder what it feels like tobe a kid once more. Oh, sure you do!

On a one cold midnightlast December at the moistened grassy grounds of the freedom park, wheneveryone was deeply asleep because they have an early morning trip back home. I and my college student friends decided to dosomething to determine if any of the exceptional skills we had in games weplayed during our childhood years remain. The games of Shakay, Dakpanay and Dodge Ball were on the list.

So, there andthere we played the games as if we were pupils in elementary who were veryoblivious of the things around us; we ignored the passersby as if they didn’texist, wiping the sweat with our own shirts, while being barefooted on theslippery green grounds. It was hilarious. It was a night a college studentcould never imagine happening.

But that wasn’t thelast. On the very Christmas day, I playedwith an 18-year old college friend a game that was supposed to be my favorite,a game where I hailed myself champion, kayokoor kayokok. There were only two of uswho were adults and the rest were a bunch of kids.

As the game progressed,I found out that neither one of us were an adult or a kid. The boundary betweenchildhood and adulthood has been breached, somewhat intertwined. Our heartswere one with the little monsters we played with. I realized that my age and myhappy childhood memories are not parallel to each other. That even at the ageof twenty, you can still be a kid whenever you want to. You can pick up a fightwhen someone messes with you. You can dream of Santa Claus, Doraemon, and fire away Eugene’s raygun. You can shout and yell at the topmost floor of a building. And of course,you can secretly keep a puppy love of your own and be happy about it.

There is nothing wrongin dreaming or thinking of being a kid once more. And there’s nothing wrongabout expecting maturity from ourselves either. You just need to live with thetwo because it is not all of a sudden that maturity will crop up. It takes time,and sooner or later, in a moment that you are least expecting, maturity willshow in the future decisions you will make

What I’m saying is, go tothe freedom park. Get your friends. Wear a loose shirt. Take off your slippersand run like a kid who just recently been freed from the grasp of his parents.

Note: This article was published at my regular column space at The NORSUnian, the Negros Oriental State University Weekly Student Publication (NORSU).

Summer Days at McDonald’s

2012-01-13T22:15:00.000+08:00

Sometimes, youjust need to say what you want to say. Because in either way, the two of youwon’t get elsewhere but only closer to the truth – That you feel the same wayand you can’t live without the other — TheSalamander

Theglass window cracked open, and she came in. I watched her as she glidedgracefully towards me, and at that moment, I thought she was the mostattractive girl in the world. She walked nearer to me, maybe a few meters orso, and I found out that there was a gentle thrill in my heart that onlyhappens every time we meet. It was a mixture of inner emotions that every manrarely experienced unless he is deeply in love, but I wasn’t sure. I don’t knowif there is love or what I feel for her is just mere friendship.

“Hi,”she said, and I made sure that our eyes would meet. She grinned at me for amoment, and gradually it turned to a beautiful smile, the one that meets thecorners of her ears. I nodded, not because it was the only thing I could do.It’s just that I’ve got no words to say. Then, I smiled back. I looked at hereyes again, and they sparkled like fine emeralds in the sand of time.

Andagain, since the first time we met, as she caught me looking at her like that,I wondered if she knew what I was thinking. I wondered if she knew that I thinkshe was beautiful. I wondered if she knew that I think she had been always veryfeminine, and attractive to me. And I also wondered if she was even aware ofher looks.

Wewere always like this last summer. Every other day, if I have a vacant periodfrom my summer classes, we would meet at McDonald’s. It was our escape fromboredom and our only way of enjoying what summer could offer.

“Sohow’s your day,” she asked me as she fished two sticks of thin-sized potatofries from a cartoon box. I said my day was fine and that I hate it when thesun is too hot. She nodded, too, because she prefers walking under the rainthan staying outside under the heat of the sun.

Fora while, she turned her head slowly from left to right, as if searching forsomeone. Eventually, she looked at me and drove her eyes to a girl at her left.“She’s beautiful,” she said. I nodded again, and glanced at the girl she wasreferring to. The truth was, I didn’t find the girl pretty because she wasthere in front of me. For me, she was the one who was beautiful. Then, I lookedat her.

“What?”she asked.

Ismiled, “Nothing.” Then, I pulled a set of hand-outs from my bag and startedreading the important things I need to remember for my exam the next day. With a surprising tone, she asked, “Is thatreally you?”

“What?I’m a goody-goody student now.” I continued reading the hand-outs with myhands. In a while, I heard her laughing. She didn’t believe my first statement. “You see, I want to pass my subjects. That’s why I’m studying.”

“Iknow. But that’s just so not you.”

“I’mhurt.” Then, she laughed again. Sometimes, I wondered why all the things I saidto her that have sense was funny or was it just me that looked so funny everytime I utter adult-like statements.

Iturned the next page and have realized that none of the things I’ve read sunkinto my brain. She’s a good distraction after all. “So, how’s your love life?”She seemed surprised with my question. Actually, it’s not the first time Iasked her something like this.

“Youasked me that the other day. Have you forgotten? I said I’m not into love.Anyways, you should get one. You’ve been single for one and half year already,”she shrugged.

“Iknow. I don’t want to get any. I’m enjoying this.”

“Enjoyingwhat?”

“This.You and me. Here in Mcdonald’s every other day. I love this. I need nogirlfriend.”

Shedid not respond. I held my bottle of coke that I ordered earlier and sippedsome. It was not in a few minutes that we talked again after a couple of youngso-in-love couples came in. “See that?”

“Gosh!Their teens. They don’t know what’s love. They’re just hopeless romantic,” shesnapped.

“Ofcourse they do. What’s wrong with you?” I said. Her smile turned into a frown.She shook her head and said it’s nothing. I nodded and signaled him to continueeating her potato fries.

Iscanned my notes for the next chapter lessons. Yet again, I couldn’t focus. Isometimes wondered why she couldn’t get me. Why she couldn’t, at least, get theidea that I like her. Why she couldn’t define what I meant when I look at her.

It’sbeen so long a wait, I guess. I need to ask her now. “You free tonight?”

“Why?You’re asking me for a date?” she giggled.

“Yes,because I like you. Don’t you know that?”

Shewas silent. She fished another stick of fries and sipped her soda. I wasnervous. I could feel my hands involuntarily shaking by what I have asked. Ididn’t mean it but I like what I did. I tried to look up and find her eyes, butshe just kept on looking down, as if thinking for something.

Thechair cracked a sound and I could see her getting her bag, might getting readyfor an exit. I knew it was a bad timing. I shouldn’t have done that. She stoodup and shove the chair back to its proper place. This is goodbye, I thought for myself.

“Seeyou at eight o’clock, then.” she smiled and walked away.

Note: This story is a general work of fiction. This story was published in The NORSUnian, the official weekly student publication of Negros Oriental State University (NORSU). I purposely wrote this story to entertain and to give a good read the students of the said university.

A Narrow Walk

2012-01-12T19:31:00.000+08:00

A bell is no bell 'till you ring it. A song is no song 'till you sing it. And love wasn't put there in your heart to stay. Love is not love until you give it away...

It was 5:30. My class has just ended and I have decided to go home right after. But of course, I did some checking to some of my friends's blogs first in our publication office. I just read them and rarely leave a comment.

Then, I started walking down the stairs and traced the university pathways. After exiting the main gate, I put my ID inside my backpack and walked again. This time, I played with my Lock and Lock Tumbler. I waved the tumbler by its sling using my index finger. I usually do this in elementary, while waiting for a tricycle along the highway.

Up above were clouds so dark. I knew it's gonna rain soon. But I still had to march the narrow sidewalks. I knew I had to walk fast but I saw someone unexpected. My past love. I had to walk slower, she, too, did the same. We started looking from afar yet were very aware by each other's presence.

I need to smile...Should I? I'll give her a smirk, maybe. I said to myself. But she's no longer the girl I fell inlove with. She would smile at me even from afar and made sure that our eyes would meet in an instant. But this time, she looked the other way around as soon as we exchanged smiles. I felt too plain, no spark. It was like a string was never attached between the two of us. It was like we never existed to each other's lives. It was like I never knew her at all, never even met.

She turned into a pig. She gained weight and everything about her beauty is gone. She looked so homely, nothing special, unlike before when she was still a head-turner. She's now kinda fat. No offense to her, really. I'm just saying it. It's all I can say. Hahaha.

But it's not about her really. It's about love itself. How many times do we have to kiss the wrong lips? How many times do we have to hold a hand that doesn't fit ours? How many times do we have to dream with someone but only to get disappointed in the end? Why do we have to fall inlove with the wrong ones at the wrong time?

But there is something good in waiting. YES. There is something good in waiting. HE is planning it all out for all of us. We all have our own share of love story. We just need to wait. I kissed dating goodbye two and a half years ago. I am waiting patiently. I'm waiting for someone and praying for it, too.

The Mad Clown

2012-01-11T17:28:00.002+08:00

Once in a while, I have sent a series of group messages to some of my friends on first week January. Here's one of those messages: The church is where the holy spirit is. It still is. People are not all alike, and all churches are not alike. But there will be one somewhere near you to suit your temperament. Like a tree planted by the rivers of water.

So, that's the message. And here's what they had to say about it.

Friend # 1: Who is this? Ryan? Is this you?

Friend # 2: Yawa! Ikaw ni ry? (Holy Shit! is this you Ryan?)

Friend # 3: Mutuo pud diay kag Ginoo Ry? (I didn't know you believe in God Ryan)

Friend # 4: In Jesus Name! Na-demonyohon ka bai? ( Are you demon-possessed?)

Friend # 5: Kuya Ry? Ikaw ba 'to? Parang hindi eh.

Friend # 6: Ga.GM xa bai!

Friend # 7: Asa ka tig-simba Ry?

Friend # 8: ......................................

Friend # 9: O hindi....

Friend # 10: hahahaha...new year's resolution?

Friend # 11: What the fuck! Hahahah

Friend # 12: Hahahaha...Dili bagay.. Undangi bi...

It didn't end there. I, for an instance, became the laughing stock of the market. It became an issue at dinner time with my DotA friends. It also became an issue in the office last night. Lesson learned. If you want to initiate changes around you, make it a subtle one. That no one will ever notice.

The message was not intended to be a joke. It was a test. Then, I was right. I did expect these reactions from them. When I got into my bed, I asked myself, "Am I really that bad?" Well well, it's fine. I gave them a good time anyways, something to laugh about.

A Cheap Gorilla

2012-01-09T15:22:00.001+08:00

Watching your daughter being collected by her date feels like handing over a million dollar Stradivarius to a gorilla -- Jim Bishop

Yeah. I also have the same feeling with this Jim Bishop. Who is he by the way? Anyways, I still don't have a daughter but I have a younger sister who is very dear to me. And I always keep on telling her to stay away from boys. "Men are all the same," a famous cliche from a heartbroken woman.

But really, we are not all the same. I mean, we were but things have changed now. I'm old enough to know what's good and bad. I was once a boy teen myself so I know how they think. They are hot-blooded mammals. A skin to skin touch would develop into something fiery. I don't want to think about it. I just need to remind her about these things from time to time.

Pepen and Buknoy

2012-01-02T15:05:00.001+08:00

Two little monsters were watching at me as I behaved myself in the sofa, watching television. The TV show was Disney's Tangled and though I have watched it a couple of times already, I still love it. I like the crazy version of Rapunzel and her out-of-this-world prince charming who has a heart of a culprit.

Pepen and Buknoy, sons of my two cousins Marigen and Ralph, both three years old or so, are the two little monsters that I am referring to. They are my cute little nephews who live with their grandmother at Manjuyod , Negros Oriental. That means their Lola raised them since they were infants because their parents need to work abroad.

Here they go.

(Left is Buknoy. Right is Pepen)

The Odd Names Who Adopted Thee

2011-12-26T11:49:00.000+08:00

Toto, Bonbon, Dudut, Jenjen, Evelyn, Ronie -- these are the uncommon names of the people who adopted me on one Christmas Day. Even a 20-year old bully has his own share of daydream of getting adopted to another family in just a day or two.

"Naa nas Ryan!" Toto said, informing her older sister Jenjen, as I got closer into their front doorstep. I stepped a few more and sat on a bamboo seat. But before that, Jen and I had finally exchanged smiles and greeted one another.

The smiles and hellos that we both have shared were as important as playing DotA with my peers at the computer shop. Those were as important as eating my favorite meal at Birdie's bakeshoppe. It was an encounter that I rehearsed in my mind from time to time while riding on the bus.

Okay, so I'm kinda tired right now to write all the things that happened there so let me give a summary.

- I sat quietly inside the church. (So not me)

- I included myself with the Sunday school for children. Did some kiddie stuff.

- I had to tell the story of Jesus of Nazareth when he went to the Temple. (not sure) because my kabarkada who were kids 8 years old below, chose me. Had no choice.

- I had to sing the Love of Jesus infront of the kids. It was my fault since I raised my hands when Jen asked if who knows it.

- Went back to the church. Listened to Pastor Ronie's sermon.

- Ate lunch. Good Food.

- Made the kids look cool because they were having a playlet later that afternoon. I became an instant hairstylist who knows nothing but combed their hair Jose Rizal style.

- The playlet started. Everyone was laughing because the kids were hilarious.

- The program has ended, and I laid down in the bamboo bench.

- Felt sleepy and watched television.

- Played kayokok late late in the afternoon.

- Went inside the house. Watched TV. Talked to bonbon, and dudut.

- Had dinner with the rest of the family.

- Listened to a few waley jokes from Pastor Ronie and Ante Evelyn

- Watched Tangled with the four of them. I mean, five of them because another one was adopted, Chenchen.

- Ate Breakfast. Had talks with them again.

- Enjoyed the entire holiday.

Note: Here are the videos of their playlet and dance number. Bad quality since I only got 2 megapixel camera phone. Bear with it. :)

Playlet Part 1. Bith of Jesus

Playlet Part 2. Jesus at the Temple

Their Dance number.

Thoughts of a Nomad

2011-12-20T00:52:00.001+08:00

I breathed deeply, the one that filled my lungs with enough air to last for a couple of minutes, or days perhaps. But that's just the absurd thought that I momentarily have in my subconscious mind. I couldn't breathe that long. So, this is it. When everything around you is dark, and there seems no chance of light to seep through a thin lining below the door or to any other tiny holes that leads to your room, you just want to stay there. Lie in your bed forever until you become weaker and weaker each day. And there and there you die without anyone knowing.

But I'm not dying. I for sure knows that I don't want to die this time. That's just ridiculous of me. I tried my best to get rid of these unwanted thoughts and listened to the whirling of my two electric fans. The noise they make compliments the eerie silence of the room. Together, they produced a horrific sound, something zombie-iush. I still find this place scary sometimes.

How I wish I can talk to them, my two electric fans. How I wish they have a life of their own so that I can tell them happy and sad things. The same way, how I wish they will talk back so that we can share the same thoughts. I have a feeling that they know me very well. For all the years that I sleep and wake up together with them, I am sure that they know me more than anybody else.

I have to stop my rubbish thoughts. I rubbed my eyes with my wrist, removing all the unnecessary dirt that make them not able to see clearly. I stared at the ceiling for a while. Then, I realized that it isn't the ceiling but the upper deck of my bed. It's colored orange, the only thing that has color in that dark room. And I think it's nice.

I tilted my head a little to the right while my hand reached for the phone. It says 8.30 PM. What shall I do next? I don't know. I always don't know what to do. I am always unsure of almost everything around me. All I know is that I am hard, careless, and selfish. I think of nothing but my own. But that's not true, I also think about my mom everyday. Oh, yes, my mom, and my sister, too. I also think about falling inlove, if that's possible at this moment in time.

I also think of some old friends. Or if they were really friends. Or if they really thought of me as a friend. Or was there really friendship that blossomed among each of our hearts. Or was it my fault that I no longer have one. I know it wasn't my fault. I've been the ideal friend all along. Maybe I should just skip the friendship stage this time and save it for the future when they are no longer immature brats. They'll always be my ideal friends.

My thoughts were like these as I trailed the walks of the highway. I wore cargo pants, a checkered shirt, paired with a red hoody jacket. I can feel the chilling sensation brought by the wind. It's a hell of a wind. It's too cold for an ordinary evening wind. I can smell a scent of death through this wind. It was Sendong's wind but, it's no longer my problem. People live, people die. What make them worthy of remembering are their good deeds.

I neared the bakeshop as I think of these. I fished my wallet in my back pocket and scanned some peso bills. I have 40 pesos with me. With that, I can eat. I ordered a combo meal that consists of a longganisa, egg, and rice. I watched the saleslady as she gets the uncooked longganisa at the fridge. I enjoyed watching as she did the cooking.

Unfinished Tasks

2011-12-10T10:51:00.001+08:00

Sometimes, you just need to go to school without taking a bath because you need to do something really really important. But that doesn't meant you need to do it everyday. That's just so yucky.

I think I'm becoming lazy in writing. I mean, I don't know if I still have a talent in writing features because I'm becoming too stupid, blank, and weird these days. Actually, I supposed not to write any articles this upcoming issue of our weekly paper but when I've learned that the writers didn't work on their respective assignments, I decided to just take the job.

That's all.

Scrumptious Meal

2011-12-08T13:55:00.001+08:00

It was too delicious that I almost have forgotten that the bones ain't edible.
This is an overdue entry. I supposed to blog this one a week ago but I kept on forgetting things these days. I forgot even the birthday of my mom last Tuesday that I greeted her late in the afternoon. Memory gap. Needs to drink Memo Plus.
I can no longer recall the name of the appetizer but I think it was somewhat like this.

After a while, a mouthwatering dish was served. Baby Back Ribs. Yummy!

Then, desert. Amigos and amigas! Here goes Mango Crepe!

Now, ain't all of these can make your tummy ask for more?

Lyrics and Metaphors

2011-11-18T22:40:00.001+08:00

If I still think of her today

Why didn't I tell her long ago?

I could have saved all wondering

For I'd have peace if I did know.

If I had learned of metaphors

Before I wondered 'bout the stars

Would I have written verses then

And worshiped Venus instead of Mars?

If I had found my tongue could rhyme

Would I have shown a face sans mask,

A heart unsure? But woe is me--

I'll never know, I didn't ask.

This is a magnificent poem written by a Filipino Artist H.O. Santos. I think this is wonderful, and at the same time sad. Is this for real? Was he really regretting that he wasn't able to say the right words for the woman he loves? I think he is romantic, and the woman must have been so lucky if ever she knew about this.

Why did he not tell her? I can't sleep thinking of what could have been the probable reasons on why he became a martyr of love.

Another Puppy Love...

2011-11-14T00:16:00.001+08:00

After a five-minute drive from my boarding house, I turned off the ignition and left my cab improperly at the parking space since I was sure that someone would come and park it symmetrically along with a dozen other motorcyles. Sometimes, I asked myself if my having a motorcycle is a wise idea or it is just a show off of my boastful character. I also wonder if it's a waste of money.

It was a cloudy Sunday yesterday. I loved days like that, the air is not too hot and not too cold, just right. But despite the neutral weather, someone made me blush that I could almost see myself as a red pepper masquerader. Here's the story.

I like first Sundays, mainly because a church offers free purple juice drink and bread. Okay, perhaps I am beaing mean and that's not really what I want to say because yesterday wasn't first Sunday, it was the second.

As I climbed the stairs, I opt to make the proper steps, the ones that show formality, just enough to give me ample time to see her standing beside the doorcase if ever she was there. But sad to say, she wasn't there. It was another usherette.

I was disappointed. But I took the dissapointment out of my mind because my being there was not because of my newly-born puppy love or anything that would imply as something cheesy. I wanted to be religious that time, though it might sound so ridiculous if ever one of my friends hear me saying this.

As I enter the church, I made sure that a joyful aura envelopes my presence. The praise and worship started already and I paused for a while to find a seat , picking a row that has a vacant chairs for two. Actually, nobody was with me that time since I usually go to church alone but I wanted two vacant chairs because I didn't want people to think that I'm with somebody. The room was crowded with young people. For a moment, I found two vacant chairs.

Suddenly, "Hello, are you alone?" It was a female voice coming from my right side. Then, I turned my head and answered....Okay, I wasn't able to answer right away...It was her...LOADING...BUFFERING...The dissapointment washed away...

Should I speak English? I thought to myself. "Actually, I was looking for a friend," I stretched my neck upwards, acting as if I was searching for somebody, my eyes wandering the crowd. "I think she's not here.... so I think I'm alone." I did a good English without stammering. I feel more at ease talking to girls nowadays. I'm old enough.

Then, I smiled, my eyes met hers. She's so lovely and her beauty an oriental. (I think we look good together. Haha) She smiled back, and I stood there for a couple of seconds not saying anything. "I think there's a vacant chair over there." She pointed it out using her little finger.

"Where? I can't see anything. Medyo daghang tawo man." I laughed softly. "This way," she ushered me to my seat.

'Thanks," I said.

She just smiled at walked away. Never saw her again after the service. THE END.

Would You Jog For This?

2011-11-13T13:23:00.001+08:00

I carefully turned a page of a black-covered paperback of a classic fiction by a best-selling author named Dean Koontz. Actually, this is my first time to read a craft of his because I am not really fond of reading books that would send chills to my spine. I am more into the genre of espionage, action, mystery, thriller, and sometimes, romance.

My writing an entry this very moment is not really about the book but the pain I feel in my back that I'm currently experiencing while reading the book, hoping it is not osteoporosis or things closer to that. Geez. I'm too young for this my-back-hurt-alot drama of a seventy year old.

I wonder if it's the price of getting older. I wonder if a twenyish guy like me who had lost his teen years very recently would actually have osteoporosis on a very sudden basis. Perhaps, it is the result of no longer having a sport, or doing something that would break a sweat every afternoon. I gave a pause to my daily exercise routine, two months ago when I experienced a series of headache, fever, and backpain scenarios.

Not until a while ago that I realized I have to jog once more, adding up the Vitamin A and the wide array of legs running in the oval that I would actually get for free. Yeah, I like going to the oval once more. Seeing all the Sillimanian legs and faces and curves out there.

I might consider the faces, and the legs, and the curves of those chicks as a primary cure for my backache. P.S. I AM NOT A PERVERT.

When Hero defines Stupidity...

2011-11-11T16:40:00.001+08:00

Seems like I never felt that I am enrolled this semester. Never even felt that I am a student. Never even remembered that I wrote down notes or had an assignment early this semester. Perhaps, the class is still on a quarter of getting started. I assumed that my instructors are still having their work at the highlands of Mindanao since licensed geologists usually work there for good.

That's me over there. I'm doing the planking thing. Actually, I have done this hilarious act a couple of times already and every time I do this, I feel like I'm superman, the one who has super strength, the one who can fly, the one who has laser eyes. But of course, since I am Filipino, I'm the conservative type so I have decided to not where red underwear outside my dashing suit. But you know, if ever I've got no other choice but to wear undies outside my suit that defines my masculinity and well-fit body (Don't say yuck, okay?), I would choose a more vibrant color, not red. It's a pain to the eye for Gas Sake!

Wonderful Tonight

2011-11-08T14:16:00.000+08:00

The title of this entry is the title of one of my favorite love songs. Well, it's classic by the way. I think it is romantic, passionate, and filled with love. Each time I hear this song from my music player, I always wonder how he deeply loves the woman. He watches her momentarily as she brushes her hair, as she chooses her dress, and as she walks beside him in the party. Perhaps, she's his wife. I just don't know what to say. He is just so deeply and irrevocably inlove with her. Here's the lyrics. :) You can play the video above, too. But, pause first the music player in the left bottom-most portion of this page.

It's late in the evening

She's wondering what clothes to wear

She puts on her make up

And brushes her long blonde hair

And then she asks me

Do I look alright

And I say yes, you look wonderful tonight

We go a party

And everyone turns to see

This beautiful lady

That's walking around with me

And then she asks me

Do you feel alright

And I say yes, I feel wonderful tonight

I feel wonderful

Because I see the love light in your eyes

And the wonder of it all

Is that you just don't realize

How much I love you

It's time to go home now

And I've got an aching head

So I give her the car keys

She helps me to bed

And then I tell her

As I turn out the light

I say my darling, you were wonderful tonight

Oh my darling, you were wonderful tonight

Why Boys Love Girls

2011-11-05T20:36:00.002+08:00

And this is the reason why men are crazy about women. Who wouldn't?

Women are incredibly unique creatures. They are beautiful, smart, seductive, and alluring. Their thoughts as deep as a trench. Their bodies and faces can make guys go crazy. They taste like food but not. They quench our thirst but not. They are more than that because they are women.

Take Note. I am not a sex maniac.

Enrolled Na Me? Joke Lang

2011-11-04T11:24:00.001+08:00

Of all the staffers here in the publication, I am the lousiest when it comes to the enrollment. I am always late and often practice the "manyana habit".

Okay. I'm not enrolled yet. As what they always say, "It's better to be late than never." I do believe in that, too. I'll get my subjects encoded later because I have decided to play Tetris Battle on Facebook. Bwhahahaha (evil laughs). I will be the Ultimate Champion in virtual block building!

To my blogger friends, I want to tell you something about our enrollment here in the university. It's like hell. You'll get enrolled after five days if you won't cheat or insert in the line. The enrollment system here is surely one thing you haven't experienced yet.

I Cannot Sleep!

2011-10-29T14:57:00.001+08:00

I cannot sleep. I tried to close my eyes as hardly as I can but they just won't rest. My brain, my body, as well as my eyes have become too hyperactive since last night. I spent all night reviewing my notes, and studied the lessons that would hopefully come out for the final exam that I took a while ago. I have become a nocturnal specie for the last two days. Blame the caffeine-rich energy drink!

The subject is Historical Geology (It's the preparatory subject for Paleontology and much more likely the basics of Plate Tectonics, Volcanism, and Evolution of Men). Here are some parts of the lessons that are still actually inculcated in my brain as of this moment.

It's about the Geologic Timescale and the environments(Tundra, Lacustrine, etc.), flora (flowers), and fauna (animals) that were present in every epoch. It also talks about the Plate Tectonics and the natural phenomena that took place on earth billions of years ago.

Geologic Timescale has aeons, eras, periods, and epochs. We are focusing on the Phanerozoic Era. It has the Cenozoic, Mesozoic, and Paleozoic eras. Cenozoic has the Quarternary and the Tertiary Period. Under these two periods are Hologene, Pleistocene, Pliocene, Miocene, Oligocene, Eocene, and Paleocene epochs.

Under Mesozoic is Cretaceous, Jurassic, and Triassic. Under Paleozoic is Permian, Carboniferous' Penssylvanian and Missipian, Devonian, Silurian. Ordovician, Cambrian, and Venian.

The hard part is you need to study every epoch. Let's take for example Pleistocene Period of the Cenozoic Era. During this time, there exist four common fauna; Dire Wolf, Wolly Mammoth, Short-faced Bear, and Sabre-toothed cat. A series of ice ages occurred during this period. Herbivorous animals' only source of food were savanna flourished lands that have shrubs, grasses, canifer trees, and mosses.

I still have to get ready for the next wave of final exams! Petrology! Structural Geology! Mining Laws and Ethics!

I'm Thinking About You

2011-10-24T22:36:00.002+08:00

I've got nothing to write about. So, let it be this way. These are all I want to say.

I just want my gift!

2011-10-21T15:38:00.000+08:00

Beep. Beep.

I held my phone and searched for the inbox. My heart jumped for it was Papa. It was unexpected. He rarely remembers me. He rarely sends text message to me. He never calls. Last year, I received two messages from him. That was all. And the message I received from him yesterday was the second one this year.

Papa: Hello yan. How are you? Just focus in your studies. Okay. Give me Rachel's number. (Rachel is my younger sister.)

Me: Fine Pa. How about you? My birthday is upcoming. My gift?

Then, he didn't reply. I waited for an hour...two...three...NONE.

This morning, I've got his reply.

Papa: When is your birthday again?

Wow. I said to myself. Wow. I just learned that there's a father in this world who can't remember the birthday of his oldest son. It didn't anger me. It was normal. It was expected. It didn't hurt my ego nor affected my emotional behavior. It didn't affect even a single cell in my body. I just want my gift! That's all!

Happy Go Lucky!

2011-10-19T16:56:00.000+08:00

There were three of us. My guy friends here in the publication have realized that after having a delicious and tummy-bursting meal at Mang Inasal last night, we've got no other place to go. For the nth time around this semestral break, boredom struck again. And it was at moments like these that we usually hear our spontaneous yet sporadic laughter. We have got the happy-go-lucky-air of a young man with an expanse of freedom.

Here's the first thing we did. We played DotA non-stop until one o'clock this morning. We also played DotA later that afternoon.

The second thing we did. We parked the motorcycle and realized that policemen we're having "Dakop Session." We watch the different reactions from people who were caught by them. It was funny. Some were afraid. Some were sweating. Some were pissed off. Some wants to run away. Some throttled their motorcycles at max speed at taxied the road like they own a national high way.

The third thing we did. We ate. A lot

The fourth thing we did. We walked. A lot. Around three hours or so. And talked nonsense.

The last thing we did. We played DotA from 4 AM to 5:30 Am.

When Two Broken Hearts Talk

2011-10-12T19:13:00.001+08:00

The rain just fell down quite a sudden yesterday afternoon. I could hear thuds of hurrying feet. And as each raindrop slaps the soil on the ground, I wondered how many drops of tears ran through her face, spilled to the ground when she was heartbroken.

Me: How's your heart?

She smiled, and told me to stop it.

Me: Really. How are you?

Her: I don't know. I still think about him sometimes. It hurts. Still.

Me: Hahaha. I know!

Her: Shut up!

Me: You don't need to lie about it.

Her: I always wanted to tell you about this. It's just that you are always not around.

Me: I'm getting popular. I'm hiding from the press.

Her: I want to move on. How will I do that?

Me: You want to move on? Then let's walk.

We were walking while the rain poured over us. Maybe an hour or so.

Her: I want to forget him.

Me: You can't do that. I mean, you can. But not now.

Her: What did you do when she left you?

Me: You know how it is. I was devastated.

Her: What did you do to get rid of the pain?

Me: I eat. All the time. You see that? That's tempura. I eat things like that all the time.

Her: I don't eat tempura. It makes me vomit.

Me: Then, eat ice cream. See that store over there? it gains profit because I buy ice cream every night.

Her: hmmm...Really?

Me: Sure. Let's eat then. My treat.

Then, it was my turn.

Her: Why still single up to now? I know you. You can get one whenever you feel like it.

Me: You know I'll marry someone at 27 or 28, don't you?

Her: Hahaha. I know. Just stop the cold and harsh social drama.

Me: I'm not hurting her, am I? I know I'm not. Besides, I'm tired of all the people there.

Her: She told me about it. The books and stuff. Hahaha.

Me: I hope she'll be fleshy when I turn 27.

Her: So, how about now. No plans of having a girlfriend?

Me: I'm tired. I'm looking for something. Something real.

Her: Hahaha.

Me: Really. I just don't want anyone getting involved with my life.

Her: Can you remember the days with your ex-gf? Come on! Weren't those days nice? You can stay in your room and be happy about it. That there's someone who loves you.

Me: Was it all about sex? I don't know. You know how she is and what she looks like. Her cleavage makes me weak, and all about her makes me think nothing but sex.

Her: You said you love her?

Me: I did. There was love and lust. But when we broke up, I come to realize that I was attracted to her looks, and later on, feel inlove. I loved her. You know that. And sex, too.

Her: You really did that?

Me: No. Just kidding!

Her: Come on. Just tell me. Did you two screwed up?

Me: What are you talking about? I'm clean. And Fresh. Haha.

And another conversation came up.

Her: You look good together.

Me: Who?

Her: ______

Me: She doesn't get me. She just don't get me! She's playing dumb.

Her: It was your fault.

Me: Mine? My fault!

Her: Yeah. You didn't tell her.

Me: I was obvious. She's just.....complicated.

Her: You're the one who is complicated. I often see you around walking with her and you just can't say it.

Me: I'm tired. It was Joshua Harris' book. That jerk! That guy led me to singleness.

Her: hahaha.

Me: It's okay. I'm dating someone now.

Her: who?

Me: A Sillimanian chick.

Her: Another one?

Me: Yes. Another one.

Her: Stop that. Go back to her and talk her out. The other one.

Me: Geez. You're sick!

Dark Clouds

2011-10-12T12:45:00.001+08:00

I can see dark clouds coming. Thunder roars and lightning rumbles in the gray horizon. I can feel the strong gush of selfishness brought by the wind. I am afraid of what is coming. I am afraid of what lies ahead of me.

I walked around, trying to see a fine lining where the rays of the sun can seep through a humongous dark marshmallow in the sky. But there was none. There was no light.

Urgghh!!! Waaaaa!!! Grrrrrrrr!!!

2011-10-07T12:19:00.002+08:00

This is a post of a zombie. This is an entry of a hopeless mathematician wanna-be who didn't even invest too much effort in taking his math exam. While most students here in the university had spent a cold night, preparing for their exams the next day, there was a good-looking asshole who was too confident with the outcome of his exam finale, and spent the night with his friends playing DotA.

I took my exam a while ago in Differential Calculus. It was easy. Chicken. Pansit. The sad part was, I wasn't able to answer the rest of the test items because it didn't occur in my bean-sized brain that such test questions would come out in the exam. Equations of Circles. Damn. There were 5 items of it, 2 points each. I just missed 10 points!

But you know, I am a procrastinator. I procrastinate most of the time. I did a little review around three o' clock this morning. I studied about Real No.s and Inequalties, Lines and Circles, Linear Functions, Limit of a function. All in all, I did a hell of little review. Around 80 pages or so in a book.

If only I reviewed my notes earlier, if only I refused my friends from playing DotA, if only I did not procrastinate, if only I have become a goody-goody student even just for a night, if only I invested enough effort, I could walk out from that room with a smile drawn in my face.

Which Way To Go?

2011-10-04T20:48:00.001+08:00

There is something wrong with the air I'm breathing. It is suffocating and at the same time, it carries a typical cold gush of the wind that makes me shiver. If not because of the sun this morning, I could have managed to sleep all day long. I could have not eaten my meals. I could have stayed at my room, lie down in my bed and think of the possible eerie silence that will soon strike.

I was thinking since early last week if I could go to a place where I could spend my little vacation. Beach. Farm. Home. Then, I thought again and again for the word 'home' and I wondered if there is someone who can give me one, or who can give them one.

It's not about me. It's about my sister and my mother. I wondered if they're searching for a home, too. And get disappointed because neither one of us can give each other one. I have lived my life well. I no longer ask for a home.

I was planning to bring my sister here in Dumaguete. I'll buy movie tickets for her. I will let her watch two kiddie movies and let her eat all the food that she likes. It's the only thing that I can do for her for all the lonely years that she has been through. She's living a pretty tough life.

She's living alone since she was 12 years old and was living with our Yaya since childhood. She's renting a room, cooks her own food, washes her own clothes, manages her own money. Now, she's 15, and she is a one tough and smart kid. She'd been in different schools and was a consistent honor student.

I wondered if she was able to understand life at her early age. I wondered if what she does when she's emotionally down, and has nobody to turn to. Does she cry all night long? does she go to school even with a heavy heart? does she think about me? does she think about mom? does she hate the world? does she have a cold heart?

Was there a time when she can't wash her school uniform because she was so tired making all her projects, and wished that if only mom was there with her, things might change?

Was there a time when she get jealous because one of her classmates had a new pair of shoes from his/her father? does she feel sad when she sees her friends together with their families? what does she feel when she goes home late at night because of a school activity and too late to find out that she hasn't got any food left?

Cold heart. I have that one. But I hope that hers is different. I hope that her heart is filled with hope, and love. I hope that she has many friends. I hope that she is always kind to everyone. I hope that she is forgiving and understanding. I hope that she is patient. I hope that her heart is like mother's who is kind and loving. I hope that she will never be like me. I hope that the bitterness of life will never change her.

Lecturing Greenhorns

2011-10-03T12:49:00.001+08:00

Me and the rest of my co-editors had a campus journalism seminar and workshop at a public high school last Saturday. My lecture was about Column Writing.

Me: So, anyone of you here knows what a column is?

Students (around 13 of them): NO!

Me: Really? (Then, I smiled and showed them our paper and a sample of a column article.)

Students: You have a picture in it.

Me: I do. Am I not adorable?

Students: (They were laughing out loud) Hahahahaha...

Me: I know. You just can't say it but I know. (I smiled, again. It seemed that my lecture was filled with laughs. Then, I gave them a definition for column.)

Me: When you write a column. You should be one sided. Unequivocal.

Students: What's that suppose to mean?

Me: I mean, when you think that Ai-ai delas Allas is ugly and smells really bad and you write about it. That's your opinion, without the influence of anyone. And you should write it with conviction. That she smells really really bad. That she's very very ugly. And you shouldn't care of what other people will say about your article. It's yours! You give them the info!

So, I am hoping that within this year, we can give a lecture to a few more public/private schools, both in elementary and high school. I want to meet hundreds of aspiring young journalists out there.

Ulcer Attack: back to back

2011-09-30T17:57:00.000+08:00

Have you experienced a sudden shift of mood because your stomach hurts so bad that you want to vomit all the acid you've got in inside your belly?

Sure you do. That is if you have ulcer or if you are hyper acidic.

It pained so much that I can hardly walk all afternoon. Thanks to my friend's girlfriend. She's an instant girl scout. She has got a dozen of medicines that include two chewable tablets of antacid.

Actually, that's just the shortcut of what really happened. So, it was somewhat like this. In my chemistry class this afternoon.

Gay 1: Ryan, you look so haggard.

Me: I frowned and gave him a finger.

Teacher: What happen to you?

Me: My stomach hurts. Ulcer, Sir!

Teacher: That's fine. Just eat on time. (He smiled and walked away. Checking if our experiment is going fine.)

Me: Thanks, Sir! (You are small I want to kick you.)

F's GF (Friend's GF) : Ryan, what's wrong?

Me: My stomach hurts. Soon to die.

F's GF: I've got kremil-s and another one.

Me: Sure. Get me. Faster.

F's GF: Need water.

Me: I'll just think this is chewable.

Lesson of the day. I need to bring antacid chewable tablets all the time!

How to Sell Chickenjoy

2011-09-28T15:35:00.000+08:00

“Selling PH is like selling Chicken Joy,” says new Tourism Secretary Ramon Reyes Jimenez in a press conference at the Malacañang Palace earlier last month. I have no doubt in his confidence to make the country top the tourism industry in the world. After all, no one beats his credentials as a czar in advertising.

I like his idea of comparing Jollibee’s Chicken Joy to our country itself. That would mean world-class. That would mean he is conceited that the Philippines is ‘crispylicious’ and ‘juicylicous.’ However, when he said, “The Philippines is the most beautiful country in the world,” I wonder if he is even close to the truth, and if all he can do is just plain sales talk and advertising.

You see, there is much more about Jollibee than the Chicken Joy itself. And again, no matter how beautiful our country is, if the environment and facilities is the irony of Jollibee’s, then the booming of our country’s tourism cannot begin soon enough.

Customers go to Jollibee not only because of their delicious Chicken Joy but because of their accommodation, strategic location to the masses, clean comfort rooms, neat surroundings, and attentive and well-trained staff. This is what I’m talking about. The Philippines lacks these things.

The Philippines is a very beautiful country, that’s not a question anymore. But I am also very sure that tourists won’t be coming back after they found out that a paradise like ours has nasty-smelling comfort rooms, terrible services in some restaurants, aging airports, and bumpy roads.

Now, is selling the Philippines like selling Chicken Joy? I don’t think so. That would mean selling the Philippines like the fried chicken found in our public sidewalks where there are no spoons, forks, and plates, not to mention the high risk of Hepatitis to the customers because of its extreme exposure to dust and smoke.

For our tourism industry to succeed, we need to reshape the physical appearance of our country. We need to invest more on infrastructures. We need to create more concrete and wide roads, maintain the cleanliness of our tourist spots, remodel and renovate all of our international airports, fix the rates of the hotels and restaurants, and lastly, supply enough manpower that are well-trained and service-oriented.

In other words, advertising is not enough. The beautiful beaches and breath-taking sceneries are not enough. For the Philippines to be truly world-class, we need to be world-class in all aspects.

The Feeling of Being a Student

2011-09-27T11:35:00.001+08:00

I love the feeling of being responsible with my studies. Oh! I love it. I can finally say that I'm a student.

You know, having sleepless nights because you need to study for your exams the next morning. The constant reading of science books related to Geology because you want to have a strong foundation of your course.

The feeling when you have paid-off the money you are receiving from your mother by just focusing on your studies. See? You get your allowance and you spend it the way you want it to and the only thing you need to do is to study. That's just so SIMPLE.

Just a realization. Well, from now on, I will be a goody goody student.

This is one true love

2011-09-24T20:07:00.002+08:00

She is sweet. She is caring. She understands me the most. She loves me unconditionally. She is my one TRUE LOVE.

"Hello, how are you?" she asked me, as soon as I stood up from bed this morning. I was awaken by her phone call, actually. It seems like calling me early morning once every other day has become a routine for the two of us.

"I just woke up. How about you?" I replied.

"Just finished my breakfast. Milk and bread. You better eat now," she said. There was something so special about her voice. It was warm, and passionate. It was a voice full of love. Hers was the sweetest voice I have ever heard.

"I'm hungry. I'll eat at Jolibee. They have breakfast meals there."

"That's not good for your health. What they've got is junk."

"It's egg and hotdog. It's not salt and ajinomoto."

"I think it's expensive, too."

"Maybe. Egg and Hotdog for P60 is too much."

"You can eat bodbod and chocolate drink instead. In the tiyangge."

"I'm tired. Can't drive there. Jolibee is just a couple of walks away. So, how's your health?"

"I bought you a motorcycle so you can eat properly, didn't I? should I just take it back?"

I paused for a while, "Who said I won't eat at the tiyangge? I can manage."

"That's good. I'm in good health though sometimes I think there's something wrong with my heart, " she said. I could hear her laughing.

"You said you can't come home?" I asked.

"That's pretty sure."

"It's been three years."

"I know."

"I miss you, mom."

"I miss you, too, son."

"Bye. I'll eat now."

"Bye. I love you."

"Yeah. Love you, too."

It's me all the time..

2011-09-21T02:06:00.000+08:00

I wonder why it's always me all the time. Everytime I am into group presentations, I am always the leader. Apart from being the initiator of every activity, this is the part I hate the most -- making all the presentations alone. Instead of the whole group doing it, It's me all the time.

On each of my classes, in my major and minor subjects, I always make sure that I sit on the back portion of the classroom. It's where the dumb-heads usually can be found as what they say. And everytime a teacher raises a question, I opt to shut my mouth even if I know the answer. I love to just sit back and read e-books in my phone. I also love to sleep while the teacher is having her discussion.

I just get average scores in my exams. But I wonder why they always expect something from me. They'll say that I'm an editor so I know better. WTF!

I am a lousy student. That's why I hate it when they don't do their part. I hate it when I can't exercise my rights on being lousy. I hate it when I make group presentations all by myself. Just like now, it's a quarter before two o'clock in the morning, and here I am, awake.

For God's sake! I have a fever. And I still need to attend a 12-hour nonstop class tomorrow. That means if I can finish what I'm doing at 3 AM this morning, I still have a short-time to sleep.

The Struggle To Write and On Being Lousy

2011-09-20T11:49:00.007+08:00

I have been watching a blank MS word sheet on this computer monitor for about 30 minutes already.

This is my second article this afternoon, next to my column. It's a feature article for our weekly paper and since I am late for about two weeks already, I need to make two, or maybe three articles today. But I can't do that because I've got a class and an exam at one o'clock. Actually, having a class and a bunch of exams are not the main reason at all why I can't produce articles. The thing is, I am struggling.

I am now on a struggle of writing something. Writing for a campus paper is different in writing web-articles where all you need to do is syndicate or re-write articles that are already present in the internet. This one requires, well, effort and new ideas. And as of this moment, I don't have those 'effort and ideas.'

I am now a struggling writer, and worse, a lousy editor.

Santa Claus...

2011-09-06T12:51:00.000+08:00

Kung may kakatok man sa bahay niyo ngayong pasko. Huwag kang umasang si Santa Claus yun. Baka pulubi lang na hihingi ng regalo. kaya't humanda ka na. Mangulekta kana nang maraming barya.

It's just you...

2011-09-04T03:29:00.003+08:00

You just don't get it, do you? I'm inlove with you.

Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah.

Getting old...older...oldest...

2011-09-02T16:00:00.000+08:00

Sooner or later I will be OLD. (Erase the word later. Retain the word sooner because it is more factual.) Sooner, I will say goodbye to my teenage years, and will face another set of two digit numbers that usually come as a big issue around my circle of 'teenage friends.'

I don't really think much about it but the real thing is? it ails me the most that I'm getting older. Oxymoron. I don't want to age, but I want to grow older. I want to mature but I don't want to have wrinkles. I want to have kids and be a father but I don't want to be a grandfather and have a dozen grandchildren.

I know that I am not the only one who usually have this kind of 'teenage dillema' because some of my friends who turned twenty some time this year were also over reacting about their turning-twenty brithday party. Hey! It's a good thing that they were still having birthday parties unlike others (street children) who usually spend their birthdays alone, adding that they have nothing delicious to eat. I don't think turning twenty is a big deal. I don't think it's something to complain about.

I don't think I deserve this tag: Ryan, 20. It's too much for me since I still look so young. (zZzZzZzZzZzz. This is the very popular Visayan Syndrome called "Feeleriasis") Apart from being young, I also look, uhmmm....well, I don't look twentyish so perhaps if someone would ask me if how old I am, I would just say, "Me? Well, Im still eeeeiiiigghhteeen."

Usapang Boredom..

2011-08-27T23:06:00.002+08:00

Dahil wala akong magawa sa buhay ko ngayong gabi (Isama na diyan ang katotohanang wala akong night-life dahil kung hindi pangit na babae ang mang-iimbita sa akin para gumimik ay mga manyakis na bakla naman. Ano na bang nangyayari sa panahon ngayon. Mga babae parang bakla, at ang ibang mga bakla naman ay saksakan ng kamanyakan).

Balik tayo sa usapan. Dahil wala akong magawa ngayon ay naisipan ko na namang mag-post ng tagalog na entry. Minsan nga ay sabi ng kabarkada kung babae, "Ryan, loud kaayo ka ug mag-tagalog tagalog ka." Ibig sabihin ay nakakasuka daw na tingnan kung ako ay magtagalog. Bakit? di ba ako mukhang Filipino? di ba ako pinanganak na purong puro na Filipino? (Di ko nalang sasabihin na may palagiang minsan na pinagkakamalan akong korean dahil sa aking kapogian at kakyutan :P ) Huwag mag-react. Blog ko to at kung gusto mong purihin ang sarili mo ay dun ka sa blog mo!

Simula kahapon ay may ginawa akong project. Ito ang Project Chix Hunting, kung saan ay binubugaw ako ng mga kaibigan kung babae sa mga kaibigan nilang babae. Medyo kailangan ko na kasi ng girlfriend. Ayaw ko na kasi ng fling-fling lang. Ayaw ko nang makipaglaro sa mga babaeng wala akong planong gawing girlfriend, dahil ganun rin naman ang mga plano nila sa akin. Katawan ko lang ang habol nila! (Huwag na kasing mag-react!)

Sampung mga Chix numbers ang nakuha ko kahapon. Ang specifications ay ito: Maganda, Matalino, Mabait, in other words "MMM". Ang iba sa kanila ay ang mismong nag-text sa akin. Wala lang. Trip ko lang. Wala naman kasi akong magawa.

Kailangan ko ng girlfriend. Bakit? Wala si mama. Walang magluluto, maglalaba, ,mag-aalaga sa akin, Walang gigising sa akin tuwing umaga. Walang taga-linis ng sahig at kwarto ko. Wala akong kasama maglakad. At higit sa lahat ay kailangan ko ng syota para makapaglaro ako ng DOTA kahit anong oras. E-tra-train ko siya para naman makapag ONE ON ONE kami parati. Minsan kasi, mahirap makahanap ng mga kalaban sa internet cafe, kaya pag nagka-syota ako. Okay lang kahit hindi five on five basta ONE ON ONE.

The Gaming Evolution

2011-08-25T18:15:00.004+08:00

At the peak of full moon, children start to sneak out of the guards of their parents and rush to the nearest open field, street, or vacant court. They draw grids on the ground, probably divided into four or six sections using water because it evaporates slowly at night. If not, they use chalk or charcoal to draw on the cement. Once it’s done, they stand still, guard the lines of the grids and stop their opponents from passing through.

Sounds familiar? Patintero has been a childhood game which almost all of us have experienced to play during our elementary and early high school years. It was during those days that we savored the most the art of playing our own traditional games. During our vacant times, we would usually go to the open grounds and boast our exemplary skills in many types of games that we enjoy the most. Apart from patintero, there goes bato-lata where the players hit a can with a slipper or a stone while another player guards the can. We also have chakay where the players follow a baseball game format, only that they use their foot as the bat and a slipper as the ball. Moreover, children also love to play sungka, shatong,kayokok, sudsud, and hide-and-seek or tagu-taguan.

But those were of the primitive times. The gaming evolution has started two decades ago here in the country, and the youngsters have found another way of getting themselves involved in other forms of competitive games. Instead of the traditional Pinoy games, they have found a new and similarly enjoying way of competing against each other that does not require much effort. Kids and kids at heart are now totally hooked with role-playing (RPG) computer games, whether Local Area Networking (LAN) or online.

Based on what I have observed in eight different gaming shops here in Dumaguete, DotA All Stars or Defense of the Ancients is now the number one LAN game, followed by the latest version of Counter Strike Source and Left4Dead game category.

On the other side of the coin, Heroes of Newearth (HON) leads the poll in online gaming, besting preceding games Special Force and Gamez Aion Online.

For those who do not know anything about these games, DotA is a game derived from a scenario in Warcraft III, a video game played in the PC where the gamers are provided with a different real-time strategic 3D gaming experience. The objective of the game is for each team, with a maximum of five, to demolish the opponent’s ancient building units, guarded by monster-killing structures at the nine corners of the map. Human players choose powerful heroes that have unique abilities and can wield weapons in accord with their specialty, strength, agility, or intelligence.

Counter Strike, on the other hand, is a first-person shooting game, where all you need to do is throw grenades, and gun down your opponent. This goes the same for Left4Dead, another first-person shooting game, only that you need to shoot zombies this time or be killed.

For online games, Blizzard Entertainment has produced a game that has the same game play, items, and heroes with DotA All Stars, only that this one provides dynamic 3D experience to the gamers, which is obviously not present in DotA. Well, there’s nothing so much about Special Force. It is a first-person shooting game like Counter Strike on an online platform. Ending the list would be Gamez Aion Online, a private server of the original game Aion Online International, which gives the gamers wicked 3D gaming experience, dynamic avatar making, and a world of well-detailed graphics. There’s nothing so much like it, as of this moment.

Hazards of Gaming

Looking around gaming shops at Negros Oriental State University (NORSU) during daytime, asking why these games swept the minds of pupils and students alike away from their classes and lessons, is as clear as purified water. Armageddon Gaming Station and One Byte are two of the few computer shops circling the university perimeter that topped the most number of players logging-in during school days. And this shop is where DotA All Stars is played the most by them.

Raffy Canobas, a fourth year Bachelor of Science in Secondary Education student, is one of the many students who love to spend their vacant times either in Armageddon or in One Byte gaming stations. He confessed that he loves to play DotA because it’s really ‘cool’ when you can defeat other players. “Aside from playing, you can also interact with other people and you can gain friends in no time,” he mused.

Canobas shared that when he was still a freshman, he became too addicted to online games that he usually skips classes already. “Before, when I started playing the game, I sometimes forget that I have classes especially when the game is progressing really well and we are advancing really fast to the opponent’s colony,” he said in the vernacular.

Another DotA player, a third year BS Hospitality and Management student Reymart Tubog, said that there are many students who play the game because it is ‘fun and exciting’. “It is really noisy when the players are using their characters to kill one another because they are shouting and yelling. That’s what makes the game fun,” he continued.

When asked if he skips his classes just to play computer games, Charlie Amacho said that he knows how to manage his time. “I love to play DotA, but I always make sure that I attend my classes especially that I have high cut-off grades in my major and minor subjects.”

Though some students were able to manage their life as a student slash gamer, there are a few who lost track, and worse, has eventually stopped schooling because of computer addiction. On a one hot late afternoon last year, Johnrey, not his real name, was playing the game with utmost prowess. However, he is one of the Norsunians who became very addicted to the game. The sad part is he was not able to continue his studies last year because of one reason – he traded his studies with computer games.

“Nakaundang ko ug skuyla kay nahagbong kos akong mga subjects pagka-first semester (second semester of last year). Sige ra man kog dula gud. Wala gani kabalo akong mga parents,” he confessed. “Pero nadugay nakong sigeg dula, na-reliaze nako nga wala man koy paingnan diay. Nagmahay ko sa akong gibuhat. Pasalamat ko nga gitagaan pa ko’g chance sa akong mga parents nga maka-eskulya ug usob.”

In the bottom line, Johnrey advised other students not to give away their studies just for playing the game. “It’s okay to play, but play moderately, or else you’ll be like me.” As of press time, Johnrey is fixing the mess he did, and is now back on track here in the university.

Playing computer games or getting hooked with a new breed of sports is fine. These things will help you develop more as a person and let you explore the world of technology and the things you haven’t explored yet. These are also ways of detaching yourself from the academe in the meantime because it is not every day that you are given the chance to enjoy what the new world can offer. But you should bear in mind that your primary role as a student is not to play, but to excel in academics so you can show your family those good grades they’ve been longing for. Having fun is fine but studying should be taken seriously.

A Disaster of a Teacher

2011-08-17T13:16:00.000+08:00

Here’s a fact. A teacher here in the university is definitely not a good example of how a professional teacher should be like. Here’s the story. A young teenage student had her report finished on a very hot afternoon.

She tried her best to come up with the best presentation possible. As a matter of fact, she studied all the things she needed for her report weeks before. However, she had some parts of her report wrong, probably because she did not understand what it meant. This is normal. We students are still subject to errors and flaws. Even teachers are not perfect.

Instead of correcting the student, her teacher awarded her with an unusual kind of reward. “Gabinutol man dagway ka,” and “Di man ka kabalo uy” were the words that came out of the mouth of this supposedly “educated” woman.

It would have been a teeny bit more acceptable if her actions were unintended, or just the initial reaction from the mistake of her student but, sad to say, this has been her habit. Students can testify to that.

It’s sad to know that this teacher comes from the “College of the Educated” where positive values are primarily taught and academic principles are espoused. I suggest that this teacher should take a crash course in Values Education. Just a thought, she might have skipped this subject or she might have forgotten that bad manners should not be brought to school.

Teachers should be role models in the society. They are supposed to be the epitome of wisdom and respect. The higher their academic qualifications, the wiser they should be. But this definitely is not the case with this teacher. So, why teach anyways? There are better teachers out there who are decent, respectful, and worth the pay. Why stick with a teacher who embarrasses her students publicly?

This is not what we expect from our teachers. We expect them to be good examples. Students are here to learn. Teachers are here to teach - and part of what they teach is good manners and positive values- not only theoretically, but by example.

Waiting for you...

2011-08-13T01:55:00.010+08:00

For the nth time in my life, I am being hopeless romantic again. It is not because I like someone else or inlove with someone else or anything like that. I just feel so plain and alone yet inlove.

I know it sounds really weird and this kind of talk should not be brought here in blogger.com. But since I have already posted here too many an entry about how my love life went a couple of months ago, there is no reason for me not to write about love in here anymore.

The rain is too heavy tonight. Too heavy that I can still hear the sound of a thousand droplets of water as they hit the roof. Though I am listening to soft music at mid volume, I can still hear the rain too clearly, as clear as how my heart beats for someone I don't know.

And if I would wish to go outside the office at this very moment, I would freeze not because the wind is so cold but no one is out there whom I could hug nor touch. Will there be? I don't know. Because if I will stand up and shove my chair away from the computer cubicle, and open the door to step outside, all I will see is nothing but darkness. And with darkness, I feel secured yet alone; tough yet sad.

It is at these times I come to realize that I am in need of someone who wants to share a part of her life with me, and if possible, love me in a manner that is filled with faith, passion, and of course, for a lifetime.

Forever. I never imagined that I am still that hopeless romantic puppy dog 2 years ago who believes that there is forever in love. Though a couple of my past relationships did not work out well, or did not turn into what I have been expecting them to be, I was and am always a believer of everlasting love.

Because if there is none, there is no God. God resembles true and everlasting love. And it is him that I trust with these thoughts I rarely put into words. But right now, I am slowly putting some of those thoughts into words because a part of me says that I should, and that if I won't, my life will be miserable for a couple of days because I didn't take the chance of letting these feelings turn into magical words.

It took me a couple of seconds to write this next paragraph. Perhaps, the main reason is, I just don't want anybody to read my thoughts but at the same time optimistic that writing something like this will bring magic in my life in one way or another. Just like in the movie Message in a bottle.

I am really hoping of something like that. A girl from nowhere visits my blog unintended, and found a couple of my posts interesting. Then, she will search the net about who I really am. What's my real name. My work. My age. My phone number. Then, she'll fly from Manila, Davao, USA, UK, anywhere in the globe to find me. Then she'll find me in the dock, fixing my bangka because I don't have a yacht. For Fish's sake I can't afford a yacht! Then, she'll say, "hey, I like your yacht."

Then I will smirk because I know she is just joking because it is not a yacht, and even not something that people with good eyes can be liked with. Then, we'll have a date at my bangka and I will try to maneuver the paddles with all my might because I never tried paddling ever before.

Well, at least I tried once but all I did was to paddle and paddle and the bangka did move! Yeah, right. It did move a bit, not to mention that I was creating a laughing stock in the market because All I did was to run the boat in circles, like a boat creating a whirlwind out of water so it will be called whirlwater. Great!

Also, it is at moment like this one that I like to rip off my head and throw it at the trash can because I don't know what I am talking anymore. I just feel so into love.

Why? Well, I have read Message in a Bottle last night. And I am watching Nights at Rodanthe right now.

Blame the movies! Blame the authors! Blame Nicholas Sparks!

Rizal Must Be Dissapointed

2011-08-05T15:56:00.000+08:00

Earlier this year, I have met four friends coming from different localities here in the Province of Negros Oriental. Surprisingly, each of them is a Sangguniang Kabataan (SK) Chairman in their respective barangays. One of them even spearheads all SK Chairmen in their municipality. They are part of the group whom Dr. Jose Rizal calls the hope of our nation.

I’ve heard of how they have achieved victory. Unfortunately, they all have a common denominator. They won the elections because they purchased the votes of all their constituents. I am well aware that the country is the haven of nail-crooked politicians and that buying of votes is not new to us, but learning that even youth leaders are practicing this kind of wicked doings made me think twice.

I’ve learned that the SK gets the 10 percent of the barangay’s annual Internal Revenue Allotment (IRA). Let’s say for example, a certain barangay has an annual IRA of 20 million, 10 percent of that IRA which is 2 million goes to the SK Funds. Quite big isn’t it?

Here’s more. When a certain project is implemented, the government officials, whether the mayor, the barangay captain, or the SK chairman, and his councils receive 20 percent commission of the entire amount of the project cost; another 20 percent goes to the contractor; and another 6 percent goes to the government tax.

For example, if the project costs 5 million, 1 million goes to the barangay chairman and his councils (he needs to share his blessings to cover him up, so that he will appear “transparent”); another 1 million goes to the contractor; 5 percent goes to the VAT and 1 percent for the withholding tax. All in all, these shares would reach 2.3 million pesos, leaving only 2.7 million or a mere 50 percent of the total project cost for the project’s implementation.

That’s a lot of money. No wonder the youngsters of today are hot-contesting this side of political arena. No wonder they are investing too much money on winning because they knew that once they win, they hit jackpot.

There is something wrong with Philippine politics and that includes most of the SK officials all over the country. They are practicing the art of corruption at a very young age. During the SK elections a year ago, I was a witness to how the youth candidates spent large amounts of money for food and beverages, campaign posters, and vehicles and gasoline for their campaign. Apart from that, they also spent a large portion of their money for vote-buying that ranges from P100-1000 per voter; some candidates would even go as much as 5,000 depending on the heat of the elections.

The disease of vote-buying as well as vote-selling has definitely affected the youth. And if Dr. Jose P. Rizal is still alive today, he will surely be very disappointed to the outcome of his undying hope—“Ang kabataan ang pag-asa ng bayan.”

Ang Luha sa Batuta

2011-07-29T22:47:00.011+08:00

Tiningnan mo mga mata ko, tiningnan ko rin legs mo,

Walang masabi sa isa't isa pagkat sobrang kinis kasi

"Ang ganda mo," ang mga katagang lumabas sa labi ko

"Cute ka din. Parang si Kokey," ang tanging isinumbat mo.

Tinanong ko pangalan mo, at tinanong mo rin ako

"Sharlene. Tunog shampoo pangalan mo," palanding tugon ko

Sa saglit ng segundo, ika'y ngumiti, at lumapit sa'kin,

"Halika't maglakad tayo," at dun ay naka-jackpot ako.

"Uulan na yata. Sa'n ba tayo pupunta?" aking sambit

"Sumama ka lang. Ba-byahe tayo," habang kagat mga labi

Pinainit mo katawan ko't tumayo batuta sa pantalon ko,

Ako'y walang nagawa. Sige junior at susulong tayo!

Tumambad sa paningin ko maselan mong katawan
Dahan dahang linusong ang masikip at mainit mong laman

Sa bawat yugyog nang malambo't na kama, tayo'y nagkaisa

Umungol kang kay lakas! At ang batuta'y pinaluha

Sumikat na ang haring araw, at ako ay gumising
Tumingin saan-saan, ba't wala kana sa'king piling?
Pumunta ako sa kusina't nagtimpla ng mainit na kape
Puso'y nagramdam, balikan mo ko't halikan 'king mga labi

Saan ka na aking giliw? ganun lang ba ang mangyayari?
Pagkatapos mong gamitin maskuladong kong katawan
Ika'y aalis lang at ako'y iiwanan sa kasuluk-sulukan?
Oh! Sharlene, Balikan mo ko pagka't ika'y kaligayahan

Pagka't alam kong totoong pag-ibig ating naramdaman
Ang mga mata nati'y may kaugnayan noon paman
Hahanapin kita, lulusungin kahit saang lupalop kaman
Ikaw't ako'y para sa isa't isa, yan sana'y iyong matantuhan.

Fit in Right for A Punch

2011-07-26T12:38:00.007+08:00

I think I'd like being punched every single day if the prize is getting a bottle of Nestle's Fit and Right juice drink.

Here's the story. Later this morning, I went to school with a very refreshing feeling. Refreshing because I was able to take a bath, finally! (Actually, I went to school earlier before the punching incident. I woke up 9 AM because my classmate texted me that we'll going to have a class. But only to get disappointed when I've learned that my teacher was not around. So, I went home again to take a bath.)

To trim down the story, I climbed up the stairs of our building, where our office is situated, and met Percy Jackson, the Big Fat Giant here in the publication, our webpage master. And here it goes!

Percy: Ryan!

Me: Percy Jackson!

Then, he tried to kick me, (it's a joke, actually) he wast just demonstrating what he have learned in his Muay Thai Lessons.

Being a karate kid, I dodged his kick while smiling when suddenly he countered me with another blow, a punch this time.

Because I was smiling, I didn't see it. And he hit me! He hit me! A giant fist just hit me straight to my right eye!

Bang! And All I could see were butterflies!

Then, he apologized and said that he'd treat me snacks but I said No and It's okay because I'd write something for our paper. Then, he left. I watched myself at the mirror and saw Koko Crunch in my left eye!

Then, I saw him again and asked him to treat me lunch for what he did. To my surprise, he did treat me. He gave me a bottle of Nestle Fit and Right. A bottle of juice for a heavy punch. Okay, I think I'd like being punched everyday if the prize is getting a bottle of Nestle's Fit and Right.

Mom Knows Best!

2011-07-24T13:03:00.008+08:00

Most of the time, we always say that we know ourselves more than anyone in this world. But that’s not true, our MOTHER knows us better than we know ourselves.

She knows your smell, your likes, your hates, and everything about you.When you feel sad or if there is something wrong, and though you just keep it to yourself, your mother knows it.

When your appetite is gone and you'll skip a meal, she'll cook your favorite food just to fill up your empty tummy.

When you ask money from her, she'll give some to you even if she doesn't have any. She'll watch over you when you are sick. She'll buy Royal True Orange, and Biogesic. She'll cook a delicious soup, too (Maggi or Lucky Me Nooddles).

She'll ask you if you are okay, and she knows that you lie even if you say "Yes."

She'll be forever proud of you!

Your girlfriend or boyfriend says that he/she loves you very much. But believe me, your mother loves you more than your girlfriend and boyfriend does. That's a fact.

Love your mom because it's not everyday that she is around.

What's a virgin mean?

2011-07-24T11:51:00.003+08:00

This is a hilarious short film between a mother and a child. The mom cooks lunch when suddenly the young girl asks her mom, "What does a virgin mean?" They are talking about sex for the first time.

Note: If you want to hear the conversation in this video, kindly navigate to the left bottom sidebar of this page. You can turn off the music player there. Thank you :)

Will I See you in Heaven?

2011-07-20T14:51:00.001+08:00

(How I wish I can have a very pretty and sexy girlfriend like the girl in this picture. HAHA)

They say that when we die, there wait two places -- heaven and hell. Though until now I am not sure where I am going, because I know that I was never a good guy, and was never a good son, I can't help but think most of the time where the two of us heading.

They say that when people die and when they go to heaven, they won't remember anything in their past life. They won't remember anything -- No hatred. No traces of existence. No memories of the one you love.

No memories of the one you love. I thought about this for a couple of times and I felt a sudden prickle of heat in my heart. Isn't that sad?

Isn't that a misfortune for two lovers who spent their lifetime in earth and just to forget about everything when they are in heaven. How's that for a tragic end of a love story?

I don't want to forget about you. I want to remember your face when I die. I'll paint you in my heart and it'll forever be there.

I'll make sure that whenever I die, I'll see you in heaven, and I'll remember you. :P

(This post is just a product of my very restless mind. You see, this has nothing to do with my love life because I don't have one. :) )

Defining Hate

2011-07-10T14:00:00.000+08:00

Life is a puzzle. Every piece fits together to create who we are. What we do, how we feel, every experience shapes us into who we eventually we become.

There is something wrong with the atmosphere around me. At first, I thought this was going to end very soon, but as time goes by gradually, it remains unchanged. The feeling of hate and dislike is within me. And no matter how much I try to forget that hate, it's there - boiling and vivid.

How I wish I would never get inside the office and sit in this computer again. How I wish I could just stay away but remain editor in this pub, or just quit, perhaps. Because every time I open the door, and starts to write something about the goodness of life, I remember hate.

I want to get out of this place. I don't want to see their ugly faces and smell their nasty presence anymore. And I am sure they feel the same way, too.

I have forgotten friendships. I have forgotten the happy memories we shared together. I have forgotten the days that we were still writers, the time when we were still newbies and were too innocent on what we were doing.

There was a common place for smiles and laughs. There was friendship. There was forgiveness. There was understanding. There was no room for hate because because all we had was us.

I can't help but smile every time I remember how all of us met because we have the same passion in writing, how we struggle to remain not evicted, how we learned and improved, how we grew up in the same office.

I couldn't count how many meals we shared already. How many times we experienced drinking in one glass. How easy to grab a bite when someone is eating his/her Bananacue. How many birthday parties we shared together. Those were the past.

I choose to bury them all. Because none of them were real. All of those memories, though I still find happy and worth remembering, are gone. Hate has taken over happy memories. That's the power of hate.

It will consume you until nothing is left. There is nothing good about hate, but there is nothing good of a world without hate either.

A world without hate is meaningless. Perhaps, it is not a world at all but rather a product of superficiality. A world without hate is a product of our superficial minds. We are so hooked with fairy tales and a world of peace. They just don't exist.

Now, I have met people that are worth keeping. And all I need is to wait until I graduate. By that time, I am free of hate. I am out of here and I will forget each and everyone of them. They are the reason of this hate. They are the reason of what I've become. I still need to wait, and I'm free of this hate.

Ang Trigo sa Dunkin

2011-07-08T13:06:00.000+08:00

"Unsaon ni siya Ry? (How to do this?)" asked Juliene, a friend of mine. I actually call her Dakog Aping most of the time because it suits her best. Dakog Aping means chubby cheeks, and she has a quite extra-large cheek so I gave her that name. (Joke :P She's good looking. I should say because I don't want to get hurt.)

We were having a tutorial session in Trigonometry the other night because this week is their preliminary exams. It's not normal for her to study. I mean, it's a miracle. I think so.

I've got a good stock knowledge about all math subjects because this is my major years ago.

There goes Angles. Degrees. Elevation. Depression. Word Problems. I bet word problems are the most difficult because they require comprehension and math applications.

Good thing she could really do it.

Job That Blows

2011-07-02T21:18:00.002+08:00

Madaling araw na, oras na para magsara ng computer shop si Pilo. Naglinis, nag-ayos, at nag-ligpit na ang binatang bantay ng computer shop.

Habang inaayos ang backpack nya at naghahanda para umuwi, narinig ni Pilo na bumukas ang pinto ng computer shop. Medyo nainis sya sa sarili dahil nakalimutan nyang baliktarin ang "open" sign na nakasabit sa pinto.

Pilo: Sorry, close na po kami. (Nakayuko parin si Pilo at abala sa pag-aayos ng bag nya.)

Babaeng sexy: Hindi ba pwedeng gumamit ng computer? Kahit saglit lang?

Pilo: Hanggang 2am lang kasi kami 'e. Pasensya na hindi talaga pwed... (Natulala si Pilo)

Sa pagtingala nya, nakita nya na ang kumakausap sa kanya ay sobrang ganda at sexy na babae. Halos ilang segundo rin bago natauhan ang binata.

Babaeng sexy: Ah sige, salamat na lang.

Pilo: Teka miss... Ano bang kailangan mo?

Babaeng sexy: Kailangan ko lang makausap ang mama ko.

Pilo: Ah akala ko kasi maglalaro ka. Kung internet, ok lang. (Palusot ng binata)

Babaeng sexy: Talaga? Wow thank you!

Pilo: Hehe sige upo ka na dyan.

Sa paglakad ng sexy at magandang babae palayo, dun lalong naaninag ni Pilo ang hubog ng katawan ng dalagita.

Babaeng sexy: Pano ba 'to?

Pilo: Anong ibig mong sabihin?

Babaeng sexy: Nag-text lang kasi ang mama ko, pumunta daw ako sa kahit saang internet shop, para makapag-usap kami. Pano ba gagawin ko?

Nakaisip si Pilo ng paraan para maka-isa sa dalaga...

Pilo: Nako miss, busy kasi ako may mga pinapagawa sa akin yung boss ko, kailangan kong tapusin 'to 'e. Pano yan?

Babaeng sexy: Matagal bang ayusin yon? Naghihintay kasi yung mama ko. Sige na, tulungan mo naman ako. Gagawin ko kahit ano, makausap lang ang mama ko.

Pilo: Talaga? Kahit ano?

Babaeng sexy: Oo.

Pilo: Sige. Halika, punta tayo sa may kwarto sa likod.

Naglakad papunta sa kwarto ang dalawa. Naunang maglakad si Pilo kaya nasa harap sya ng babae. Hindi kita ng dalaga ang malaswang ngiti ni pilo. Pag dating sa kwarto, pinaupo muna ni pilo ang dalaga. Nakangiti parin ang binata habang pinagmamasdan ang magandang muka nung babae. Binuksan ni Pilo ang pantalon nya, at nilabas ang kanyang sandata.

Pilo: Lumuhod ka.

Agad namang sumunod ang babae.

Pilo: Sabi mo gagawin mo kahit ano para makausap ang mama mo diba? Sige, simulan mo na.

Dahan-dahan nilapit ng dalaga ang mga labi nya sa sandata ni Pilo...

Babaeng sexy: Hello... Hello mama? Oo si Pearl 'to. Eto ok naman. Tumakas ako sa ospital, ayaw kasi nilang maniwala na hindi ako baliw. Hahahahaha! Kamusta naman dyan sa moon?

Pilo: Put*ng ina naman... Ah miss, bilisan mo makipag-usap long distance yan 'e. Booyset!

Porque Contigo

2011-07-02T09:05:00.001+08:00

"Tulala lang sa aking kwarto

At nagmumuni-muni

Ang tanong sa aking sarili

Saan ako nagkamali

Bakit sayo pa nagkagusto"

Take note. The lyrics above has nothing to do with love. I'm not entitled to talk about it this time. The truth is, I've got nothing to tell - my eyes hurt while my brain cells are totally consumed with my previous thinking.

As a matter of fact, I suppose to write an opinion article for our weekly paper but then again, I wasn't able to do so because I'm tired of errors. I lost my appetite for writing this week because of errors. Maybe because I wasn't able to examine the errors and I blame myself for that.

Let's talk about the song.

Aint this song very nice to hear? I thought this was Spanish. I was convinced that this was a Spanish song because it sounded so Spanish two weeks ago when my colleagues kept of playing this song here in the office. (Okay, I've said enough of Spanish.)But later on, as the song went on, after the chorus has ended, it was Chabacano after all.

Okay, I miss you so badly while I'm making this entry.

600 Days is Too Long

2011-06-30T11:01:00.001+08:00

Almost 600 days ago, I wrote my first editorial pertaining to the most spine-tingling event to ever tint the pages of the Philippine History. For the second time around, I am writing again to remind everyone on how lousy the justice is here in the Philippines.

Once in a while, the nation was shook by the bestial killings of 57 civilians; that include 37 journalists and 20 political supporters of the former Maguindanao gubernatorial bet, now governor, Esmael “Toto” Mangudadatu. The victims were slaughtered at the grassy hill of Barangay Salman in nearby Ampatuan town of Maguindanao on November 23, 2009.

As of press time, the names of the suspects are as clear as the spread-through blood that splattered in the grassy graves of the innocent civilians. The evidence is already at hand with the Philippine National Police (PNP) authorities and the country lively awaits the final verdict of the two killing spree masterminds Andal Ampatuan Jr. and Andal Ampatuan Sr.

Unfortunately, justice is too slow for not serving it yet. Six hundred days have passed but still the perpetrators are still enjoying the possibility that they might be freed, and even had the face to plea for innocence. Six hundred days is too short for people who have normal lives, but for those people who have lost their loved ones, 600 days is too long for justice to take place.

Earlier this month, former Philippine President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo showed sympathy and support to the Ampatuan clan, saying that she will back them up during the judicial proceedings in the Supreme Court of the Philippines. That is why. The Arroyo administration had been backing them right from the start. Arroyo assured a year ago that justice would be given right away after the investigation. But the truth is, Arroyo could hardly put an iron hand to the Ampatuans because she owed them big time in winning the 2007 presidential election. Everything she said are nothing but lies.

There is something wrong with the country’s political body and that is what keeps justice go slow. Suspected government officials have close ties to justice officers, so as to the military and police forces and that is the reason why crimes such as corruption, extra-judicial killings, and plunder, though already have obvious suspects and strong evidences filed in, are hardly given the equal punishment to these charges of felony.

Maguindanao Massacre is not the only proof of how terrible the justice we have here in our country is; and apparently not the first one of not having a fair and fast trial even if there are already clear evidences. There was the NBN-ZTE scandal, fertilizer scam, P438 billion foreign debt of National Power Corporation, P9.2 billion Centennial Expo scandal, P6.6 billion National Lotto scandal, P3.2 billion DILG scandal, P278 million PCA scandal, and so on and so forth.

How long should we wait for justice to come? Five years? Twenty years? A century? I would not be surprised if that’s the outcome of these trials because Philippine justice is incapable of sending nail-crooked politicians and prominent government officers to jail.

Perhaps, we, Filipinos, should start judging and questioning our authorities or else, these acts of felony will get worse. Questioning is necessary. It is a tool to stop mankind from their wicked act and future evil plans. Everyone has the right to ask because if we won't, who would? Waiting for the Supreme Court to come up with a final verdict for these cases is useless because justice here in our country is lousy.

Fever makes a letter

2011-06-26T15:43:00.000+08:00

Three days ago, I had a really bad fever. Bad because I hate being sick. It gives me the impression that I'm weak. That time, I wondered why I got sick when in fact I have a strong immune system (Aww?). It was hard to believe. But I realized one thing, it reminded me, on the midnight of June 22, the night that I got sick, that I've already lived a year with no girlfriend.

I had no idea about it, actually. Such a thing as being single never crossed my mind 'till that time. I smiled to what I've learned. I lived a year without being too dependent to anyone. No real friends. No girlfriend. Just me.

Let's stop the drama. To my future girlfriend, whoever you are, I am writing this one for you.

I may not be able to know you for now, though there's a big possibility that we already know each other. I want you to know that I waited too long. I didn't go for the rush. I didn't settle for anything that is temporary because I know that when you and I meet, there is magic.

I don't know where you are. Perhaps, we shared dinner already or I've bumped you on my way downtown or maybe you've seen me looking at you stealthily and I didn't realize you already noticed me. Funny it is that two different people are bound to meet each other at the right time, at the right place.

Please don't ever think twice. When you feel that you and I have this unique interconnection, and share the same thoughts, it means you and I are for each other. That is rare. People search for a lifetime finding something like that.

You and I don't need to talk. In times that you're still comfortable sitting beside me without us talking, it means we're perfect for each other.

You see, I don't know how to play guitar. I don't know how to sing either. But I'll try to write your name in my heart. It'll forever be there.

It may happen that ours won't last that long, but that does not mean we are not destined for each other. We are destined to meet and to fall in love. It's between the two of us if what we 'll going to make out of it, whether you want to stay or not.

Where are you? I'm waiting.

A Casaroro Weekend

2011-06-19T15:55:00.000+08:00

Since yesterday weekend was kinda boring, me and my friend, (She's my YAYA actually) decided to go to Casaroro Falls. Well, it's our first time in Casaroro and I don't need to really elaborate or describe what what we saw there because I'll be writing an article about nature on Monday for our weekly paper.

Just look at the pictures below. P.S. I don't have pictures here yet because she did not upload mine in FB. That's good because I don't like showing my face here in blogger or in Facebook.

You might see an endangered ferocious creature in some of the pictures. Beware!

The Endangered Specie. This is what I'm talking about.

The Fallin Tree?

The Flower

Flower and Water

The Horizon

The Water and Ferns

Water na naman. Puro nalang tubig

The Falls and the Ferocious Creature

Water and Stones. Puro may water ang pics kasi nasa Falls nga kami.

The Narcissistic Endangered Specie. (Hindi masyadong mahilig magpa-picture)

335 steps

Here's the steps

The Hanging Bridge with the Endangered One.

Deprivation of Freedom

2011-06-15T13:06:00.000+08:00

Saying that I am no longer allowed to write anything here in blogger because I am creating chaos in this bureau is simply the lamest statement I've heard for years.

What were they thinking?

They are depriving an artist to paint nude portraits. They are depriving an athlete to go beyond his limits.

They are depriving a journalist to write against the administration. They are practicing Martial Law in the era of great freedom.

If that's the case, should we not call ourselves Journalists anymore because we are not practicing the freedom of expression.

I am not posting names here, nor specific offices, and kill them out of shame. I am practicing the ethics of a blogger. And if they don't know that, then don't ever deprive me of writing what I want.

This is my blog, and I am not making issues nor conflagration to anybody.

As long as I'm not mentioning names, I'm playing safe.

Bursting the bubble of anyone of you is not my plan nor part of my business. But if I am able to do that, that only means I'm an effective writer. When you are hit without me mentioning names, there's something wrong with you. Your guilt tells you to change for the better, to stop acting bullshit and to think in accordance to fairness and equality.

Blogging is not the right medium in stepping the rights and credibility of someone's life, I know that, but that does not mean I can't write and criticize someone who, in my own common understanding, can become a goody good subject for criticism because they are no longer acting as to what normal people should do.

Judgement is necessary. It is a tool to stop mankind from their wicked act and future evil plans. Everyone has the right to judge. Because if you won't, who would? Waiting for the supreme court for the final verdict to come is useless because justice here in our country is lousy. We need to judge people to stop them from growing more wicked.

Ask a lawyer first if I am subjected for a libel case before depriving me of my very own medium of expression.