I Missed This Place.

and now you spend your evenings
searching for another life
— King Krule, “Easy Easy”

Let’s begin with the big rocks.

I now have a full-time job as a call center agent. I flunked out of school, like I feared would finally happen a few months ago. There is now a baby in the house, though it is not mine. There are also other people in the house; the total headcount comes to 13. The house right now is a very crowded place. I am pitching in to buy a new TV that I don’t think we should get, but we will be getting anyway. My sister currently has chicken pox. I am currently sick with a viral infection, and am on a five-day sick leave. I feel like I’ve already forgotten how to do my job. As early as now, actually, I already want out. I have taken up smoking as a daily habit, except on weekdays. I smoke ice menthols. My hair is now back to plain old black. Oh, and I am still a single virgin.

Okay. Now. Pebbles.

I have long nails now. It’s very hard to maintain them. I scrub myself with lemons when I bathe. I tie back what I can of my hair and I pin the rest back with a zoo of hairclips. I own dresses and heels now, and I wear them quite often to work. I have a canister of candies for when I feel like shit, and nowadays I notice my teeth always hurt because I grab a couple of caramels every few minutes (and doesn’t that say a lot about how I feel at any given moment in time). I eat a single chocolate for  breakfast every morning. My officemate picks me up every morning on the way to work. He’s a very nice person. I hang out with exactly two people outside of my work circle. Within my work circle, I hang out with exactly two people as well (not the same people as the ones outside, of course.) I just cleaned my room today. I also wrote a bit.

What my desk looks like after I clean the fuck out of it

What my desk looks like after I clean the fuck out of it

In case you’re wondering what the substance of this post is, I am not going to lie to you: there isn’t any. It’s another one of those life updates I used to be so fond of, back when I had the time to just sit around in my bed and talk about things endlessly to a nonexisting audience. Life updates which are just that: updates on my life, the goings-on, what-have-yous. No deep existential shit whatsoever. Besides, I haven’t been doing much thinking lately, anyway. Currently I have a lot going on in my mind (because of some ill developments in certain situations, and my own sour-graper ego), but hell I am tired of complaining; I wanna shut up about the bitchiness of life for once. I don’t want to be angry about anything right now; I just want to talk, to get shit off of my chest without having to be responsible for consequences talking out loud might have in the real world. So here I am, in my old comfort place. This is how my own room felt like when I came home from Baguio with the knowledge that I wasn’t going back. Smells a bit different, but not much has changed.

I missed this place. I missed it so very, very much.

Oh, and would you look at that. Almost exactly a year since my last post. Happy new year, my dear.

Hello, my universe. It’s good to be back, even for a little while.


In Which Nag-Taglish Ako Sa Sobrang Sama Ng Loob

Sobrang nakakasama ng loob how I can’t update this blog anytime I want to. Nakakainis yung kawalan ko ng access sa internet, yung kabagalan ng laptop, yung pagbaha ng mga thoughts and ideas every time may internet—so much so na hindi mo na lang ma-handle yung dami at you end up not doing anything dahil masyadong madaming ideas to keep up with—and the mere fact na I made this blog to be privy to my multimedia thoughts pero hindi ito nakaka-live up to my expectations, and it’s mostly all my fault. Kasalanan ko na walang matinong internet yung bahay na tinitirhan ko, na wala akong pera pambili ng matinong laptop, na wala akong oras mag-ayos ng mga kaisipan kahit buong araw ako nag-iisip. Kasalanan ko na deprived ako.

Ah tangina. Gusto ko pa din talagang i-maintain ‘to, I swear. Kaso I want to be able to do it on my own time, in my own pace; how I want to, when I want to. And you know me: pag hindi ayon sa gusto ko, madalas ayoko nalang. Sobrang sakit sa kalooban na patapos na ang November ay 12 posts pa lang din ang nagagawa ko dito—may daya pa yun, like 75% of that number is made up of Sky photos or music—kahit pa sobrang dami kong mga naiisip. I mean, sure, most of those thoughts end up sa journal ko, but like I said, I made this blog for a purpose, and that purpose is to cater to my multimedia thoughts, which make up the bulk of my thinking process.

So yun. Nakakaiyak man, tanggap ko na siguro na I won’t be able to maintain this blog, or at least not as much as I want to. I’ll be waiting for the time na magkaroon na ako ng kahit maayos na internet man lang—when it does come, I swear I will come back to this blog and post every single damn thing that crosses my mind and I will love every minute of it—but until then, kailangan kong magtiyaga sa cramped situation I am in, i.e. being able to make posts within the daily 30-second window in the dumbfuck internet connection, or not post at all.

The cracks of my heart grow in micromillimeters with every single urge to blog ignored, but there’s nothing I can do but tape over these cracks and wait.


On the bus to Cubao earlier this afternoon, I was worried about two men who were talking about how easy it was to pick pockets in buses–they were even making loose demonstrations among themselves. I was terrified; my insides turned cold, like a shroud of ice settled over my guts. I was sure that at a certain point in the trip they’d stand up with guns held out and by the end of the ride I’d be stranded in Cubao without even a bag that would at least make me look like I hadn’t just been robbed.

Now that I look back on it, though, after scrutinizing their clothing, I’m starting to think they were the exact opposite of what I thought they were: instead of robbers, they were probably cops.

Although, in hindsight, nowadays you’d be hard-pushed to tell the difference between the two.

Is There Anything To Be Said?

Of course I am in a crisis. I always am. The contention stems from the arising doubt of whether this crisis is anything worth writing about, or if I can even put it into words at all.

I don’t have anything to say. In all honesty, I’m just testing out my lordship over this blog. Funny how it’s been almost half a year since I began writing/posting/rambling here and while it has felt like home I never truly felt it to be within my command. The fear of judgement has always been there–the ghost of a prejudice from imaginary critics. This place runs under a dictatorship, like a kid pushed through a waterfall into the cave beyond—he does it and does it fast only because he is afraid of getting hurt. The odd thing is, the dictatorship is not mine, but the outside’s.. But the odder thing is, the outside does not give a rat’s ass about whatever is going on in my universe. And yet I am crippled by it. Imagined things can be as damaging as real ones.

Odder. I like that word; it lives up to its meaning. The magic of semantics is in that you don’t really know what semantics is but you can sort of feel around its edges and say confidently that this thing is a semantic thing.

I am mopping up the writing style of whoever author—and, more recently and alarmingly, whatever book—I am currently reading. The first time it was Jessica Zafra, in high school it was Bob Ong, and then there was the entire intellectual activist spirit of the Philippine Collegian. I even had a Murakami/King phase—yes, combined. Now the flower and seeming distended-ness of narrative of Arundhati Roy’s ‘The God Of Small Things’ is creeping into my open-mouthed beta-state rambling—or more like, my prose dips into this well from time to time, and it emerges with striped patterns of mundane and flower, of followable trails into materialistic concerns of aesthetics and untraceable, carefully aesthetic crooning about materialistic concerns. What.

I am painfully aware of how weird my non-Standard English must look like to its native speakers. I comfort myself by thinking of how Jose Garcia Villa bastardized the language and made it into a thing of incomparable beauty in the process. Of course the only thing that I could lay claim to as something which Villa and I share is the God complex that persists in his work (and even in his mighty pen name: Doveglion standing for dove, eagle & lion) (and even then I’m not entirely sure our sentiments about the matter are similar) and so I may have no right to assume that because He does it then I can, but yes I like excuses when I can have them.

My prose oscillates between hot honey spilling into cracks in concrete on a tar black day to bland rattattating that scrapes the ear like a fork being dragged across the surface of your brain.

(There is no narrative. There is only too much Arundhati Roy. And I don’t even like the book all that much so far.)

I do not know what I am saying. I do not know if I am saying.

Another Life Update, With Lots Of Visual Aids

Shitty internet, as usual, thus the four days of nothing on this blog. Oh well, it’s not like I could have written anything, anyway. The flames of Hell Week are now thoroughly licking our asscheeks, and if I was suddenly granted the wisdom to run a blog with proper posts while at the same time make major papers and review for exams, I’d start renewing my faith and believing in god. In short, “ha, that’ll be the day.” (Well, technically I am outlining another paper that’s due tomorrow as I type this up, but don’t let that fool you. I can hardly balance it. In fact, I’ll probably fall asleep on one or both of the things I’m doing.)

* * * * *

I crammed the whole day today. And I don’t just mean “I copied off my classmate’s homework that morning”, I mean “I skimmed through more than 3 decades of Phil Lit in English and sped through my exam in an hour so I could get started on a 7-page analysis of Jose Garcia Villa’s prose due in 6 hours”. I only had 3 hours of sleep this morning (not because of academics, mind you; the internet was fine so I took leisurely advantage of it huehuehue) and I surprised myself at my resistance to procrastinate. I actually got the paper done with less agony than I imagined (due partly to my awesome sister’s help.) Maybe I can only really work when under severe pressure. Maybe I have to learn to love this kind of thing and thrive with it. Ugghhh.

I did reward myself with some bread, though. Ah, bread: hotdog rolls and chocolate chip muffins and cheese rolls. My joys can be simple at times, and it came full circle when I paired my Dane’s Bakeshop treasures with some foil pack orange juice. Ah, orange juice.

* * * * *

I gave the stranger the CD I made her. I followed her, poked her turned back, handed it to her and ran away. I don’t know what she did with it, and only the insatiably curious part of me is wanting to know. I only saw her one more time after I gave her the CD (I would have liked it better if I didn’t see her at all), and she didn’t even look at me. Given the situation—I was with a friend who was on the phone, and I was listening in on it—it was understandable that nothing happened. Well actually, it would be understandable if nothing at all happened, ever. I mean really, who am I kidding? But well, at least that’s out of the way.

* * * * *

I’ve been socializing again. My Facebook profile is now fraught with photos of hanging out in places with the new friends I have made, and my best friend. It is all very surreal; Hell Week is practically on our asses and we were out there, eating at different fast food stores and staying after we’ve eaten for hours on end just taking pictures and laughing our asses off, or monkeying around the empty school lobby. Nobody slept that night—well, nobody except me, maybe—because everyone was up making papers, but our Facebook walls were active as all hell. It was funny, and fun. It helped keep us awake, I guess.

Plus, I really like some of the photos we took. I liked how they came out after I corrected the colours and added some noise to the others (for effect, aba syempre)

* * * * *

I made one more new friend; she’s my other new friend’s best friend. Before we all became friends, among their group she was the one I was least close to. Recently, though, we started sharing a table at the canteen whenever me & my best friend meets their group by chance, and the two of us got to talking. I’ve known for a while that she was a pretty rad kid—listens to Guns N Roses and The Ramones, is very very intelligent, small and generally cute. Hell, my best friend is practically in love with her. We started hanging out more often, and we talk more now; she even sits by me when I’m alone. I’ve caught her looking at me when I wasn’t looking, and her general behaviour towards me seems kind of different than her usual with other people, but that’s probably just me. I’m not going to lie, though: I love spending time with her.

* * * * *

I am talking with herI PMed her on Facebook for no particular reason, just testing out the lack of feeling regarding her that I had so suddenly noticed just recently. True enough, I didn’t feel anything anymore. I was a little pissed at how boring the conversation was, but I can’t blame her: a crazy former blocmate who professed undying love and began pseudo-stalking her was now talking to her again after having sat silent for so long. I understood. It was a civil conversation, and I told her that I still had plans of meeting her, but made no definite declarations; only hints of the “near future”. Hell, I don’t even know if that shit’s going to happen (because her mixtape is nowhere near even fully conceptualized, and honestly that’s the only reason I’m meeting up with her) so yeah I don’t know what that was for. Probably just proving a point to my whiny-ass self from a few months ago.

* * * * *

We found a new boarding house! I wish I had pictures, because I can’t use words to do justice to the beauty of the place. It’s a studio-type flat with a black-&-white theme, and we strongly feel that the house owners must have been art students (plus he was really cute, damn!) The walk to the place is a little perilous, though: it’s a three-minute trek just to climb the uneven stairs. Even the steps leading to the house were artistic: the white concrete tiles had bottles embedded in them, and the some of the bottles had plants growing in them. Walking was a  treat visually (but physically no.) The area is beautiful and so very zen, though, and that’s one very big reason why I’m 90% sure about taking the place. It’s a space for four people, though, so I don’t know how I’m going to be coping with having to live with people again, after living an entire semester by myself.  It’s good that my new friends are my prospective housemates, though. They don’t look like the rat-nesting type. We plan to go back tomorrow, so I can probably update this post with pics by then.

* * * * *

I only have five more academic hurdles to overcome—one already finished and just waiting for the go signal for submission—and I will be home free. I know it doesn’t sound like much, but you have to understand that this is all in the space of 3 days. This needs some divine intervention if I want my grades to be half-decent at least. God knows how I could have finished my Phil Lit in English paper without my sister’s help and the internet services card I had always taken for granted. The fact that the internet in this house only gets its shit together in the wee hours of the morning would have been okay if I was the kind of person who made papers when running low on sleep, which unfortunately I am not. And yet here I am, blogging away the minute the internet came back on. My priorities are a little skewed right now. Give me a break; it’s Hell Week.

Good Morning!

[gigya src=”http://www.youtube.com/v/RqTsUtQLRFk?version=3&hl=en_GB&rel=0″ type=”application/x-shockwave-flash” width=”560″ height=”315″ allowscriptaccess=”always” allowfullscreen=”true”]
come home practically all
is nearly forgiven

almost everything
could be forgotten

good morning

sometimes I wish you were here
weather permitting

right thoughts, right words, right action
this time, same as before
I’ll love you forever
—”Right Action” by Franz Ferdinand

Official video for Franz Ferdinand’s lead single from their new album, Right Thoughts, Right Words, Right Action. Yay! The sound kind of reminds me of beaches—raunchy pop-rock is the closest I can come to a description—but the signature Franz Ferdinand uniqueness is still all over the place. The video is very nice and I watched it over and over again; it made me hungry for eggs, haha!

OK so this is just going to be a quick post about happenings & things. Much like the rest of the posts on this here blog, yes. LOL.

This morning was generally a good one: the weather has returned to dark-sunglasses weather, I had marvelous bacon for breakfast (first time in my home life, I believe; I was never a fan before, but I sure am now!), and my literary analysis paper for my Lit Crit class came back with a perfect score, plus approving comments from the totally awesome professor. Of course there were snags: I had diarrhea (possibly from the bacon but I dare say it was worth it), I ran totally late for class, and my friend’s grandmother died. That last one really took some things from the morning.

But anyway, all that’s there and has happened. The morning was good; I hope the day stays good all throughout. And that my tinnitus—the bells now having taken shelter in both ears like fuck man—goes away soon. (not a good ending but meh)

So, What’s Been Going On?

Only a few more days before August comes to a close. 18 posts so far for this month, as compared to the previous couple months’ almost-90. My brain has once again dipped into what’s-the-point territory and began dissuading itself from posting anything, since it’s a futile activity that won’t really amount to much. Or at least, that’s what my brain says. I’m trying to figure out if there’s anything I need to be doing to change this mindset, or if it would just go away on its own just like last time. In the downtime, my brain simply refuses.

However, it was probably a good thing that my brain decided to hibernate at the time, because if it had stayed up to wait for anything exciting, it would have blown an aneurysm in the mess that ensued: another storm ravaged my country, and by “ravaged” I mean caused Php 80 million in damages, human lives excluded. Concrete highways cracked & split open, flood waters rose way overhead, and people swam to places—or rode plastic boats—instead of walking. It might seem like an image from a cartoon, but it’s real alright. And while it’s the Filipino habit to laugh and smile through calamities, it’s not really something to make light of—people were left homeless, crying on the streets, escaping death only by a foot’s length of rope or styrofoam board, and that’s if they escape. I’m glad the worst I got was a flu.

The flu, yes. I am once again reminded of my duty as a mortal to acquire sicknesses if only to seem like a normal human being. As if having to skip classes because of the catastrophes going on outside wasn’t bad enough, I had to get sick near the weekends, too. Now I have multiple absences and a fuckload of school things I missed, including reports and group activities. I feel so useless. I can’t blame them if they decide to exclude me from the activity, but it kinda sucks because I didn’t want to get sick (or at least, not really; I’m pretty sure my panicking subconscious induced this flu). I’ve used up almost all of my absences, and I had to get a medical certificate to serve as an excuse letter. It cost money! It sucks!

And I wasn’t the only one who got sick, because the day I planned to get started on my report, Sirhk Julius my laptop decided to lie down and not get up for a whole day. It took me a few hours of crying and a few more hours of obscure troubleshooting to get it barely up and running again (I never even found out what exactly went wrong; maybe it’s the beat-up state of the hard drive in general). It’s okay now, just a little slower than usual (meaning it’s very slow now), but we’re still planning to reformat it in the next few days. Need to be doing some backing up.

So yeah: brain is dead, people are dead, roads are dead, acads are dead, laptop dead (for a day), blog is dead. Dead is the new in thing.

(Oh right, and uh I kind of found out she made a Tumblr blog recently [for acads, she assures me]. I sent her decent messages at first, as a signed-in Tumbr user, but then I remembered that the Ask box features an option to send anon messages.. And soooo.. Yeah. One time I sent her a lovelorn anon message. Fuck, I don’t know why I keep doing these things.. So uh yeah, heart is also dead.)