Bottoms Up, Baby

Achtung!

2006-10-14T14:32:00.000+08:00

From now on I'll be posting all my new blog entries on my Multiply site instead: http://jjoson.multiply.com.

Blogger has simply become too much of a bitch to use. Thanks.

My AEGIS Write-Up [Incomplete]

2006-10-03T00:59:00.000+08:00

It's been more than a week since the supposed deadline for my write-up and I still haven't submitted anything.

I've been trying to write myself a decent one in my free time - you know, a positive one that I'd be proud to read a decade or so later - but I just can't. I'm going to complete this entry when I finally get to write such a write-up, but in the meantime, I'm going to post the only thing I've actually been able to write. I'm warning you, it's quite depressing.

* * *

Jonathan found it extremely difficult to make himself an optimistic write-up (Aren’t college yearbook write-ups supposed to be optimistic because all of his children and grandchildren will probably want to read it?), so he decided to write himself a pessimistic write-up first instead.

Well, to start with, Jonathan feels that he has never done anything right during the four years he was in college (okay, three-and-a-half, if you insist on being technical). I mean, come on – to begin with, he’s in the wrong fucking course, for crying out loud. The last time that he felt he fit in Management Engineering was during the last drinking session that the last seriously drinking batch threw when before they graduated last year; yet, he’s only sat in on one Comm class in his entire stay in college and he instantly felt at home in it. And as such, he totally fucked up his grades. Yes, he knows he’s better off than most of his batch when it comes to comparing numeric QPI – but his is simply not just good enough to get him where he wants to go. What now of US MBAs and Ph. Ds? What now of the grand plan in life which he’s had since he was ten years old?

Jonathan doesn’t remember the last time he was genuinely happy – no he does, actually, but he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. All he remembers of college is going home drunk, staying up late typing papers irrelevant to what he wants to do in life, staring at the computer screen trying to make sense of everything that’s happening to him, staying up in bed thinking of what he’s doing with his life, and well – simply being lonely.

To be fair, Jonathan has met hundreds of people in Ateneo (and hopefully has made an equal number of friends too), and he’s been able to travel to dozens of places in the Philippines during his stay in college – and yet he doesn’t understand why he just feels so fucking alone.

He can’t even finish his attempt at a write-up.

* * *

No way I can send that in, eh?

I asked a few close friends of mine to make me write-ups too, and this is the best that I received (Hey, just tell me if you don't want me to post this okay?). I just wish that I could actually write something like it for myself.

* * *

Jonathan Joson.

College made him different, that's one thing for sure. Outwardly, he became the party animal I always knew was inside of him waiting to get out. His blood has probably more alcohol content than anyone I could ever know. On the inside, he became just a little bit more pessimistic, a little bit more afraid of disappointment, a little bit more insecure, and a lot more experienced in getting hurt. That's Jonat, not as other people see him, but how he sees himself. You'll probably think he doesn't give himself much credit. And he doesn't. That's just how he's always been. Way more talented in seeing what's wrong with him than the things I find so beautiful about him.

You see, Jonat, as much as he might try to deny it, was never very good at being selfish. True, he wants love. True, he wants affection. True, he wants someone who'll see past all his faults. But doesn't everyone? From high school up to college, this hasn't changed about him: he still has the capability to love someone so deeply that every sacrifice in the world becomes meaningless in the process. He gives so much of himself when he loves, and I don't think the pain he's experienced in his life will change that when the girl who's meant for him comes along. (Yes, i believe that). His selflessness doesn't just manifest in the way he can love a person, but more so in the way he loves his family. I love the way his eyes light up when he tells me about how Jessica just commented that the moon is smiling, or how he gets so excited when he's telling me how big Jeremy's gotten. I love the way I can see he still finds hope in the way his parents hold hands while they're cruising around the mall. Jonat is amazing when he loves. I just don't think he realizes it.

The bizzare thing about life is that you can mean soooo much to one person and feel absolutely disgusted at yourself because of the next.

I find it horrible that some people can treat Jonat like dirt. I find it horrible that some people can't look at him and see what I have always believed to be beautiful. Because Jonat will always be the first person who found out when I broke up with my ex and was there to comfort me. That wasn't because I figured he was the only one awake, but because I knew that even if he'd been asleep, he would've gotten straight out of bed to get to me, to comfort me, and make sure that before he left, I could still look at myself and see something special. Jonat will always be the guy who was drunk, but was still determined to stand up for me in Bacolod, when my boyfriend was doing something wrong. Jonat will always be the guy who will keep on saying bad stuff about himself, but will never say one bad word about me. Jonat will always be the guy I know I can depend on to listen to something silly I have to say, and I will always know him as the guy who saved me and kept me standing at the lowest point of my life.

Strangely enough, I realize that Jonat is the person who can be totally selfless when I want to become selfish.

Perhaps some might think I've been talking about the Jonat everyone knew in high school, but I'm not. Sure, his lifestyle has changed. His outlook on life has changed, too. But the past few years we've spent in college, I think I've spent enough time with him to know that his hurt justifies this. I've spent too many Friday nights drinking coffee and talking with him to know that he still can laugh at the corniest of jokes, that he can still appreciate the simplest of things, and that he can still love until there's nothing left of him.

Then again, maybe one other thing has changed about him. His dreams have become a lot simpler: He just wants to be happy.

Like I said, doesn't everyone?

On Milenyo

2006-10-02T01:20:00.000+08:00

Since everyone else has seemed to write about (or post photos of) how the recent typhoon affected their homes and lives, this entry is going to be short and sweet. I still have so much work to finish tonight.

I woke up in the middle of the storm to a partially flooded apartment and the horrific pounding of rain against the windows.

The first coherent thought that formed in my not-yet-fully-conscious mind was:

It's the end of the world and I'm going to die alone. Utterly and completely alone.

Random Realizations # 6

2006-09-30T15:23:00.000+08:00

I am overcome by an overwhelming sense of inadequacy.

Yun lang.

Midnight Entry # 7 - Greyscale

2006-09-24T03:36:00.000+08:00

They don't make parties like they used to anymore.

Or at least that's the way I tend to explain the general dullness of the events that I to go to nowadays. I was supposed to go to this year's AJMA Shindig at BMW Libis, but it was getting kind of late, so I decided to take a cab to Embassy instead, thinking that I would have a lot of friends there to hang around with.

Well, as usual, nobody showed up. Everyone keeps ditching me. I hate it when people tell you that they're going or following and they end up not even texting you, and hence you keep checking your phone for the rest of the night to check if they've already arrived. Whatever happened to the sanctity of the spoken (or in this case, texted) Word?

Okay, enough ranting.

I guess what I just want to say is that things are just so dull. Everything's just not as vibrant and colorful as it used to be. Sure, there are some abso-fucking-lutely spectacular moments or parties in my life, but they're getting fewer and further between periods of maddeningly mundane boredom. And it doesn't matter if I have an fantastic new polo or pair of shoes, or if I have thousands of new interesting stories to tell: no-one's looking and no-one's listening. Everything's just so frustratingly mundane.

I know that I'm just probably getting older, and that maybe I'm still not used to how things are now. And yeah, I know I that it's probably time for me to move on to bigger, better, and brighter things - things that you all will probably tell me I deserve. But I just can't - I just find it too difficult; I don't know where I'm supposed to go. I need an overdose of deus ex machina in this story: a golden, oversized roadsign dropping down from heaven, pointing me in the direction I'm supposed to go, along with detailed instructions of what I need to do to attain what I want to get - no, what I deserve to get. I'm not saying that I'm a saint, mind you - but I sure could use that long-overdue dosage of good karma now. Hello universe, can you hear me?

I'm just so tired of this greyness. I want to see color again - even if it's just in the redness of a drop of blood before turns rust-brown, or in the sweet temporary deluge of hues that fills the sky in the few moments just before the sun peeks above the horizon.

Someone, something: please come along and color this pencil-sketch existence of mine the way children do with their first box of crayons - uncoordinated, offkey, lampas-lampas (yeah, that was what I used to call it when I was young) and all. Please.

And speaking of greyness: the Third Season of Grey's Anatomy has now officially begun. I actually have something to look forward to again. Whoopeedoo. (You've got to admit, that was a pretty witty segue.)

On the Cause of Loneliness

2006-09-20T00:43:00.000+08:00

i. On Insomnia, And In Which An Idea Reveals Itself

I've been having trouble sleeping lately, and I don't really know why. I mean, there has to be some reason for being like this, right?

I know that I usually suffer from self-imposed insomnia, meaning that the tons of schoolwork I have to do just don't leave me with any time for decent sleep: my typical weekday night would be spent typing (or if I'm lucky, just editing) an average of ten to twenty pages for some major paper that was due the next day, or maybe studying at least five chapters of a thick textbook for an upcoming exam. But I'm currently having a relatively light week in terms of school work - meaning that I only have one major exam, one major presentation, and one major paper this week (the calm before the storm, perhaps?) - and yet I still can't seem to get enough quality sleep to lift me out of my general state of lethargy when the sun's up.

Ah, but I digress - and so early on in this entry, if I may note.

What I want to say (I think) is that my periodic bouts of insomnia lead me to often epiphanic periods of reflection; I mean, hell, I wouldn't want to spend hour upon hour of tossing and turning in bed being unproductive, would I? And thus I often spend the wee hours of the morning thinking about stuff.

I went to bed last night at around two in the morning (my first Tuesday isn't until one-thirty in the afternoon), and despite changing positions at least a dozen times, I didn't get to finally doze off until the sun rose. And so I spent at least four hours thinking about the same thing that I had been thinking of these past few sleepless nights (which itself is a product of certain recent conversations I had with some close friends) - that people our age don't seem to experience magic anymore; yet, they long to feel it more than anything else. And thus they spend the rest of their lives on a fruitless search to feel magic again but never really succeed. This, friends, is the reason for loneliness.

ii. An Attempt at An Explanation

I think it's best to start out by saying that I had a very happy childhood.

Picture this: I was a fat and bouncy little boy (but not fat-disgusting; rather, it was more of fat-adorable - my cousins used to call me applecheeks in an I-want-to-squeeze-you-until-you-suffocate kind of way), and was unfortunate enough to be the only one among my siblings to inherit my father's myopia, leading to me having to wear glasses at the rather early age of nine years old.

In other words, I looked like a fat nerd and played the part.

Being the firstborn kid, I was the object of experimentation of my parents (a rather boring combination of an accountant and a physician), who decided to rear me - for the early part of my life at least - on hundreds of books, Sixties music, and a series of supposedly-English-speaking-but-decidedly-not yayas from the Visayas.

My parents both had nine-to-five jobs, so my formative years were spent reading classics and encyclopedias (I wasn't allowed to watch TV at that age, except for Batibot and Sesame Street), running amok on the streets of Parañaque, watching rented Disney movies on Betamax, and learning English from my yayas. My parents enjoy telling me a story about one evening when they came home from work to find a two-year-old me practically peeing in my diapers to tell them about something I had learned from my yaya that day:

Me: Mami, Dadi, my name is JeeJee (my family calls me JayJay)! The kulur (color) of an epol (apple) is reed (red), and look - I'm holding a fidder (feather)! See, a fidder, a fidder!

Yaya: Yees, veery gud JeeJee! Yur doing gud! Ate, Kuya, ako po nagturo sa kanya! Ang galing po no?

Mom and Dad: [after a long pause] Ahh, oo. Magaling nga. [Trying to stifle laughter]

So yes, English was the first language I learned to read, write, and speak in (I know I'm not as fluent in spoken English as I used to be - blame Zobel for the poor English it taught in 1991, as well as for exposing me to exclusively Tagalog-speaking classmates), and this meant that I didn't make a lot of friends in preschool and grade school. My peers spent recess time talking about UltraMan or BioMan, while I tried in vain to tell them about Aslan the Lion, the Swiss Family Robinson, or Robin Hood.

But I didn't really care back then. All I knew was that I had a new book to get lost in every week, an entire house to play make-believe in with my brother Michael, a big enough garden to dig up insects and worms in, a near enough neighborhood playground to run to after school, enough paper airplane and origami books to keep me busy on rainy days, and enough toys to make up for my relative lack of friends. All these made me the happiest boy that there ever could be. My world was one of dinosaurs, make-believe wizard friends, imaginary trips to other planets, and detailed schemes of wondrous new machines that I drew up, and everything in it was novel, exciting, mysterious, and yes - magical.

[Digression: It's sad how little boys nowadays don't read about dinosaurs and planets and stars as much as my generation used to. Or how they don't spend time biking, climbing trees, or doing stuff outdoors anymore. They're just growing up too quickly. I think cable TV and the Internet are to blame. What do you think?]

And thus, this is the magic that I'm referring to: the feeling of wonder and excitement that you get when you realize that there's a whole world out there to discover and explore, as well as the knowledge that you face it brave, optimistic, naked, and inexperienced.

iii. And Thus An Attempt at an Exposition

My puberty announced itself with an unexpected outburst of hair in places I never thought it could grow in, as well as a sudden revelation that girls - who I never thought I could actually understand - were actually interesting, pretty things.

It also seemed that the experimentation my parents did on me when I was younger paid off quite well, because the sheer amount of stock knowledge I had built up meant that I never had to study seriously during the whole of high school, thus leaving me all of my time for dealing with newly-discovered things.

Anyway, my first growth spurt, at the age of thirteen, came with a rather dramatic loss of weight, as well as with a realization that I had inherited a not-too-bad set of genes from my parents. In other words, I found that girls could actually like me (initially at least), and that I could like them back - and rather shamefully I admit that this, friends, was the driving force of my adolescence (I know I'm not alone, you know). Yeah, I still read at least one book a week, still built complicated cars and machines from Lego with my siblings, knew how to assemble a computer from scratch, and spent hundreds of hours playing Fallout 2 - but this was all at home, away from the prying, critical eyes of people who were often too quick to judge character.

And yet, the magic now seemed to reveal itself - not too immaturely, I hope - as the thrill of the chase, or in the uncertainty of baring your heart to another person and hoping that she sees the same thing that you see in her. This whole thing was novel and exciting, and that made me love it.

Everything went well initially (because in hindsight, I now realize that girls were as inexperienced with this sort of thing as I was), but I soon found out that despite the outward physical change, I was still a geek at heart. True, I had found my athletic niche (it turns out I was good at pummelling people on the mat), discovered that I had the discipline to work out (yes, I was actually quite buff back in high school; now I'm just plain beefy), and found myself using a series of extremely effective perfumes, but these couldn't change the fact that I just didn't know how to act around people.

I was more comfortable in the classroom breezing through exams than going out on group dates with girls (Remember how, back in the early part of high school, we went out on class excursions after quarterly exams to watch a movie and eat dinner out? And all the guys - often from the same clique - who liked girls - also from just one clique - bought them roses or stuffed animals and whisked them away to a scenic corner of the mall to profess their undying love for them); I was still more comfortable talking to my good friends about white dwarves and black holes, Greek mythology, and car specs than trying to woo a girl over the phone (while listening to Sunday Slowdown on 89.9, of course). And well, being used to going to kiddie parties to simply run amok among the confused smaller children, I wasn't really good at the whole going-to-the-school-dance-in-your-swankiest-outfit (which was, back then, a long-sleeved polo tucked into your best pleated khaki slacks, topped off with shiny brown leather shoes and your lucky boxers) and-asking-the-girl-you-like-to-slow-dance thing.

And thus this led to the inevitable series of girls-you-thought-you-were-in-love-with, dozens of failed courtship attempts, and an equal number of minor heartbreaks, all serving to lead up to the sudden appearance of the one girl (okay - maybe two or three) who comes along to sweep you off your feet, makes you forget about everyone else in your past, and makes you feel totally helpless. In my case, it was my best friend in Junior year (you know who you are), and I guess that I was lucky that she accepted me for the geek that I was.

We didn’t get together, but I guess she was responsible for making me realize that the magic I was talking about earlier still existed in its full extent, and that it was basically still the same feeling as before, only a lot less selfish. There was still a whole world out there to explore and conquer; only this time I had someone to rule it with. And I knew that had to face it with anxiety, uncertainty, and apprehension; only this time I knew that I didn’t have to face it alone. That made all the difference.

iii. The Crisis of Growing Up (Complete with Illustrations)

I hope that rather long and honest discussion of my past served to help you understand my definition of what I perceive magic to be. I hope you don't misread me by thinking that it's just some cheesy definition that love (or something like it) makes me feel.

For the purpose of the next few paragraphs, I'm going to reiterate what magic is: a general sense of wonder or awe regarding the world and your personal future which leads to a feeling of excitement and courage to face the world openly as the person you are.

Now, my main point is that people our age generally do not feel this magic anymore, not because we have stopped believing in it, but because we simply cannot afford to anymore. Such an attitude does not lend itself kindly to college or working life - all that matters now is having to meet deadlines, attaining independence and financial stability, or meeting short-term goals in order to gain that elusive long-term goal. We've all had to assume this pragmatic, adult mindset because we simply can't waste time dreaming anymore; after all, we've all already got these visions of what we want to be, we already know how to get there, and well, we're not getting any younger, are we? Hence we simply can't afford to make any mistakes anymore.

And well, maybe it's just me, but everything's reducible to mere numbers now - like how even the most complicated computer programs can be reduced to a series of ones and zeroes, or how employees of a multinational company are simply a set of productivity and profitability measures, or how seemingly random events are caused by a set of stochastic variables that can be forecasted using simple regression analysis. It's just not fun anymore.

And well, to put things bluntly - things by themselves don't seem to be magical anymore. Dinosaurs are now simply huge reptiles produced by the process of evolution, made extinct by the failure to adapt to a changing climate; Stars are simply orbs of hydrogen and helium that emit light because of continuous fusion reactions, and twinkle because their light has to pass through our planet's atmosphere; Time travel can never theoretically happen because it requires that an object travel faster than the speed of light - which according to the theory of relativity requires attaining infinite mass. Lewis Carroll - the author of Alice in Wonderland - was a pedophile; Mark Twain - the author of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn - was a depressed, depressed man; Sigmund Freud was a homosexual (nothing against gay men), sex-crazed fiend; and Ramon Magsaysay wasn't really the protagonist that history has portrayed him to be.

Nothing's new or awe-inducing anymore, and anything relatively novel that you encounter still makes you go, been there, done that.

A Set of Illustrations:

1. Did you ever notice that as a kid you were always so excited to go to the local fast food branch? As a kid growing up in the South, I spent most of the school week longing to go to the nearest McDonald's or KFC branch (which were literally the only fast food chains in the Parañaque/Las Piñas area back then) during the upcoming weekend, and then proceed to feast on their fried chicken whose recipe we couldn't replicate back at home. Well, now I practically eat in Jollibee everyday. Sure, I try their new products once in a while when I'm feeling adventurous, but I generally stick to my trusty two-piece ChickenJoy meal.

2. When you were younger, I'm sure you used to think of alcohol as some major milestone that you had to overcome to prove your maturity to yourself. You were all like, oh shit it's a beer oh no i want to try it but i might get drunk and start singing out loud or whatever it is that drunk people do oh no oh no what the fuck i'll drink it anyway ... blech that was some foul shit but hell i'll finish the bottle anyway. Now we (or at least I) use beer to water down my meals.

This pragmaticism extends itself to relationships with other people as well - you've dealt with almost all kinds of people already and nothing's new anymore. Despite not wanting to objectify people, you can't help but notice that their behavior seems to fall into certain patterns that you can deal with using your own set of behavior patterns.

Another Set of Illustrations:

1. I'm sure most of you men can relate to this. Do you remember the first time you tried courting a girl back in grade school or early high school? I don't know about you, but I sure as hell didn't know how to pull it off back then. I think I made a script that I memorized to tell the embarassed girl how I felt without tripping all over my tongue, complete with I-love-yous and you're-the-best-thing-that-happened-to-mes. Well now, you already know what to do - just tell her, "You know what, you're hot yo!" (I'm kidding, but you get my point right?)

2. Or do you remember the first time you've held a girl's hand? It was like, oh shit oh shit she's in the seat right next to me and her hand's just right there on the armrest next to me argh argh do i have to say anything like "How do you find the movie?" or should I just grab her hand but shit my palm's just to freakin sweaty oh fuck here it goes ... oh shit oh shit I can't believe it I'm actually holding her hand I can die now oh fuck what next? should i squeeze it or what? my hand's going numb fuck. But now, well I'm sure you don't even have to think about it. Get my point?

3. One last example - do you remember your first kiss? I'm sure you were all, here it is here it is oh shit she's looking at my lips does that mean it's time? oh fuck here i'm leaning in she's puckering up oh crap oh crap oh crap should i open my mouth? should i tilt my head like this? oh shit collision Mmmmmmmmmmmmm holy shit my vision went all white that was fucking good but there's drool all over my mouth but what the fuck Mmmmmmmm. "Let's do that again, shall we?". But now, well, you already know how to do it properly, and things just lead to each other, and sooner or later someone's going to say, "Your place or mine?". Where did the uncertainty and the thrill go?

What I'm trying to say is that things just aren't magical anymore, and I believe that all of us, in some way or another, still long for things to be the way they were again. At some point or the other, the future simply won't turn out the way we expected it to be, like how college didn't turn out to be the venue of intellectual discourse and education that I once saw it as, or how being a yuppie suddenly lost all its glamour when I actually started working as a summer intern.

And yet, out of the sheer human ability to hope, we still believe that this magic can happen again, if we work hard enough for it, and so we slave away the rest of our life building up a figurative house that we hope is good enough for magic to inhabit again. And sure - sometimes we manage to invite it in for biscuits and a cup of coffee, but it never stays long enough, and so we try again, and again, and again, only to end up disappointed and lonely in the end.

iv. A Very Vague Conclusion Brought About by Insomnia

I don't know, maybe I'm simply being too pessimistic again. Everything just seems so mundane to me now, and I hate it. I want to discover something new, the way I discovered dinosaurs back when I was way younger. I want to find something to devote my life to, the way I desperately wanted to be an astronaut when I was a kid, before I found out that I had weak eyes and was too short.

Or maybe I'm just bored.

In Which He Has a Bad Dream

2006-09-13T10:36:00.000+08:00

I just woke up from a very bad dream.

I haven't had any remember-able dreams in a very long time, and now that I did have one it had to be like the ones I used to have.

Kahit ba naman sa panaginip ganon pa rin. Nakakainis naman.

In Which He Goes Out of Character

2006-09-11T17:39:00.000+08:00

I was feeling like a blob of shit last Saturday, so I made a spur-of-a-moment decision to go to an overnight retreat I was invited to earlier that week. And yes, it was a Christian retreat (collective gasp): CYA's Crossroads retreat, to be specific.

After organizing, facilitating, and co-facilitating at least a dozen retreats and leadership seminars, it really feels different to be a retreatant once again.

And yes, if you're wondering - I used to be active in parish- and school-based Christian organizations way back in high school.

What happened to me? I don't know. Why am I like this now? Why am I so different from the guy I used to be? I don't know. You tell me.

Random Realizations # 5 - Today

2006-09-09T17:05:00.000+08:00

Negative vibes thrive in places where you've had some of your best-ever experiences. No matter how good the music is in a club, how fun the people you with are, or how hammered you are, you get this nagging feeling that it was better - or more importantly, that it could be better - than it currently is, and you'll end up on a couch either a) watching people dance or b) reminiscing the night away.

Right Pao?

* * *

I woke up today with a very bad taste in my mouth, like I just knew that something really disastrous was happening or had already happened today, but I didn't know what it was.

It's already five in the afternoon and I haven't gotten rid of this feeling yet. I just want this day to be over and done with, right now. I feel really sick.

* * *

Here's to missed opportunities, regrets, innocence lost, betrayal, needless conflict, things-that-were, things-that-could've-been, and the hopefully proper resolution of whatever happened today that made me feel this weird.

The Second Most Disgusting Thing I've Seen This Year

2006-09-09T16:48:00.000+08:00

I present to you: THE HIGAD TREE

The Beginning of the End

2006-09-07T23:43:00.000+08:00

Forgive the other ominous title; this entry is actually kind of mundane.

I'm having my photoshoot for the yearbook this coming September 22, and well, I have to ask you guys for two things.

First would be an idea for my informal shot. My original idea was to pimp myself up in a white sando, a black vest, black pinstripe pants, and a funky fedora, then bring two appropriately dressed girls along (Yes, two of my friends actually agreed to be my bitches for the shot. Haha.) But apparently you're not allowed to bring anyone into the studio anymore; and neither are you allowed to bring anything even remotely suggestive of cigarettes, alcohol, or drugs, so screw that. Another idea would have been to bring an electric trimmer, shave my head after my formal shot, and pose a la Edward Norton in American History X - but scratch that option out; I just shaved my head recently. Now I don't know what to do for my informal shot. Help me out, people. Give me ideas. I want my shot to be something that I'd be proud of twenty years from now, something that I could show to my kids and say, O anak, ang astig ng tatay nyo noon no? Comment to give suggestions.

I'm also required to submit my write-up when I show up for my photoshoot, and quite honestly I have no idea what to write about myself. Quite a number of my friends have told me recently that I've changed a lot since the start of college (in a very negative way, I may add), and my perception of myself hasn't really changed since then, making whatever I might write really irrelevant. And thus I'm asking for your help again by giving me ideas to put in my write-up (or writing me whole write-ups like we used to back in high school, if you're up for it). Again, comment if you want to help me out. Or e-mail me.

That's it for now.

Thank you. This really means a lot to me.

Anxiety Attacks

2006-09-06T22:03:00.000+08:00

I've been having a series of anxiety attacks lately - you know, those incidents when you find that you just can't move (literally: you can't get out of bed, peel your ass off your seat, and you generally just lack the initiative to overcome inertia and do something new) because you're scared of taking risks and facing the world because you know that you're just going to fail.

And yes, I know that this fear of failing is irrational; I know that I won't ever succeed at anything unless I take risks. It's just that I can't help what I'm feeling, and it affects me. Whenever I try something remotely risky, I just can't help but think that I'm going to fail at it. I try to block out my thoughts but they just keep coming back. And hence I end up failing anyway.

The latest anxiety attack happened just this evening. I was fairly okay the whole day, until I received a rejection letter from Shell in my e-mail which basically said that I totally fucked my interview up. And to think that I was already so hyped up to go to Phuket.

I just feel so scared of everything. I don't know what to do.

A Eulogy: Of the Mothman, Higad Season, and Killer Sting Rays

2006-09-04T16:19:00.000+08:00

Disclaimer: All facts about the Mothman and the circumstances of Steve Irwin's death were plagiarized from Wikipedia.

I. Lore: Everybody Loves a Conspiracy

The Mothman is one of the more famous figures of modern cryptozoology. Described as a six- to seven-foot tall humanoid creature with moth-like, flight-capable wings, its claim to fame was when it appeared to at least a dozen people in West Virginia in the late 1960s. Shortly after, the Silver Bridge – which connected West Virginia and Ohio – collapsed, bringing down 47 people with it. These events inspired the 2002 film, The Mothman Prophesies.

Several theories have arisen to explain what the Mothman is, and perhaps more importantly, why it appears to people. The most feasible explanation is that the witnesses all mistook a large bird – perhaps a Great Horned Owl, a Great Grey Owl, or a Sandhill Crane – for a humanoid figure with wings. However, the more sensational (and hence more interesting) explanation is that the sightings were modern apparitions of a moth-like creature that figures in the mythology of some Far Eastern and Native American tribes – that of a “pre-ordained, archetypical” entity which tries to warn humans about impending heinous crimes at “pivotal moments in mankind’s cyclical history”. This is the interpretation that the aforementioned film seems to sell.

I think that I’m actually starting to believe in it.

II. Analysis: Mothbabies? Mothboys?

I saw three higads today.

Higads are the general Filipino term for any species of hairy moth caterpillars (sometimes called itchyworms in other cultures), which tend to cause a range of annoying to severe skin allergies on any human beings who are unfortunate enough to come into physical contact with them.

To say that I am frightened of higads is an understatement. I absolutely despise, abhor, loath, scorn, hate them. Aside from my extreme phobia of jellyfish (I almost died from a jellyfish sting), they are the creatures that I hate the most. Just seeing one makes my neck break out in rashes. And yet, they seem to love me. I’ve been predisposed to higad attacks since starting formal schooling, you see, and they have this tendency to land on any patch of skin that I leave bare – underneath my collar, on the front of my neck, on my nape, or on either arm – and crawl a couple of feet around my body before I actually notice that they’re there, and at which point I break out in nasty red hives which only an overdose of antihistamines, three good baths, and two bottles of calamine lotion seem to cure. And it certainly doesn’t help that I now study in a school whose campus practically crawls with higads from August to October every year.

I saw my first higad while running to my Theology class from the West parking lot. It was rather small - hanging conspicuously from a tree in the courtyard between De La Costa and the SocSci building - and so I easily avoided it, secretly scoffing to myself that I got the best of it.

Nothing eventful happened directly after that.

I saw my second higad after my Operations Research class. It was 10:30 AM, and I had an 11:30 interview in Makati, so you probably imagine how badly I was rushing. I sprinted to the car from my classroom in JGSOM, jumped into the driver’s seat, and as I was just about to turn on the engine I noticed this huge one-and-a-half inch long higad on the windshield right in front of me. I couldn't stop thinking how disgusting it was – dude, it had these beady black eyes on its front end and a yellow forked slimy tail on the other. It made me cringe, so I turned my wipers on and flashed my secret, evil smile while I watched it get steamrolled to higad hell.

Bad move, Jonat. Let’s just say that – in spite of twenty minutes of continuous wiper operation and draining my car’s whole store of water-detergent mix – there’s still a sickly green streak on my windshield.

And my Shell interview for the Gourami Business Challenge – well, I completely bombed it. I got stuck in traffic, got lost, and had trouble parking, so I arrived almost twenty minutes late, which practically guarantees that I’m not getting the slot. And the interview itself – God, it only lasted fifteen minutes. That was the weirdest interview I’ve ever sat through. It made me feel really bad, though.

The idea of the higad sightings being portents of doom came to me while I was smoking my post-interview cig in the parking lot. Maybe they served the same purpose as the Mothman, only on a smaller, more trivial scale. Maybe when you see them you’re supposed to say to yourself, “Hey, something bad might happen to me today. I’d better keep my guard up.”

True enough – less than five minutes later, a crazy bus driver almost sideswept me off Ayala Avenue (one more inch and he would’ve ripped my right side mirror off). That pissed me off so I drove right beside him, rolled down the window, and gave him the finger while screaming: “Putangina mo, gago! Marunong ka ba magdrive, tangina ka bumaba ka nga para sagasaan kita, impakto! Puta ka, ano sumagot ka, leche”, which I can’t really sorry translate into English without retaining its impact, sorry. Anyway, the asshole didn’t go down to talk to me, but I felt better anyway, so I drove on.

I got to school uneventfully (relatively. that is – I saw a white M5 on McKinley Road which drove slower than my mom, what a shame; and still took the wrong exit from The Fort and ended up on the south-bound lane of C-5), and arrived at least five minutes early for my next class, so I decided to hang out in the CTC SPG while waiting for the bell.

My friend Javin was there, and the first thing he did when he saw me was to pull his collar down to reveal a huge red higad rash. I laughed at him, saying that I had a few close calls that day too, while lighting up a cig. A few puffs later, my roommate Tony comes along and asks for a light; I didn’t have my lighter with me, so I handed him my cig. And get this – when he returned my cig to me there was a fucking higad on his hand! What the fuck. That was the tipping point. I told him to keep my cig, and I ran for cover in my classroom.

Things suddenly made sense to me. Higads – moth babies – are mini Mothmen, sent to both torment and shock us into becoming more aware of the crazy, dangerous world which we live in. And being me, I just felt that I had to share my epiphany with the world, and so I was composing this entry in my head while driving from school back to the condo.

III. Fact: The Mothbabies’ Message

I was in my condo lobby, waiting for the elevator to reach the ground floor, when I got a message from my baby brother, who never ever texted me before.

namatay si steve erwin :(

Shocked, I replied: Ha? Ano? Teka check ko yung internet. Paano daw?

He replied: jellyfish raw

I found out later on that he died because a stingray’s barb pierced his chest (allegedly lethally piercing either his heart or a lung) while he was filming an underwater documentary. He was forty-four.

I swear that I was almost brought to tears when I heard that. Steve Irwin cannot die. He is invincible, and I expected him to live forever – like Batman, Ozzy Osbourne, and Imelda Marcos – and yet he died. Because of a fucking sting ray. Hell – it wasn’t even a shark or a crocodile – it was a motherfucking sting ray.

And yet he’s dead. I may have always made fun of his redneck-ness and his stupid accent, but deep down I was envious of him, because he was doing his heart’s delight and he was undeniably happy because of it.

I wish I could say that about myself.

So here’s to Steve Irwin, to childhood heroes, and to lives well-lived – CHEERS.

Rest in peace, mate.

When a Loved One Suffers From Clinical Depression

2006-09-04T02:20:00.000+08:00

I borrowed this essay from the multiply site of a new contact of mine. I know I'm not the type of guy who plagiarizes quotes or essays from other websites, but trust me - this case is particularly different.

Why?

Can I just say that this topic is particularly close to my heart?

Yeah, I guess that would do.

* * *

A Reflection by Melissa G. Lim:

Whenever I clear the dishwasher, my mind very quickly brings me back to those days, not too long ago, when I couldn’t do the same without experiencing a panic attack. I had often asked why such a simple task would cause my heart to race and bring about so much fear. It was so senseless and yet the fear was so real. My body would shake and I couldn’t wait to get the task over with. I would then have to struggle to the couch and then roll into a fetus position to calm myself down. If I had not experience it myself, I would scoff at the very thought.

My mind now wanders on to what my husband and children thought and felt. I know how it pained them to catch me in such a position. I know, because, although they didn’t say anything, their eyes spoke so clearly. Today, I constantly thank the freedom which I experience- the freedom to get up readily and willingly and to be able to walk around and do whatever I want in the ABSENCE of fear.

From time to time, when the children and I pray together on our drive out, Jeremy, our son, would thank God, similarly, for the activities he is involved in and he would then lift up those who cannot enjoy the same. I believe Jeremy and I pray similar prayers because we both have survived clinical depression. Perhaps we were allowed depression into our lives to teach us how to value life and to enable us to lift others in prayer and in action.

Depression is such a horrid, agonizing, dark living hell. Unless you are in deep sleep, each moment, each micro-second, is experienced as such. What has prompted me to write today is to plead for the others who are suffering at the moment. Be there, touch and let the other know that you still TREASURE his/her presence. Listen and allow the other to voice what he/she is experiencing. It may be senseless to you, but what he/she is experiencing is very real. MINIMIZE pointing out that the individual has so much to live for. It will only make the other feel worse because those positive outlooks just slip right through their fingers. For those whose chemical balance is in synchrony, positive outlooks are like “secure rocks” which can be stepped on to bring the individual one step closer to happiness. It is so sad and frustrating that the depressed cannot “catch” and “hang onto” these words. As frustrating as it is, BE THERE, HOLD the person’s hand, and WALK with him/her…step by step.

I would like to extend my heartfelt gratitude of love to each of you who reached out to me, showing me that I was still a valuable citizen of planet earth in the midst of my brokenness. It took several of them, many who I had least expected and who I now treasure so dearly, who took a moment to touch me or to say hello and others who managed to take one or more steps with me. Not everyone can be there, but the COMBINED little gestures of love and the numerous prayers and medication is what kept my spirit alive.

An Appeal

2006-09-02T13:14:00.000+08:00

Someone either make the situation clear to me, or get me really really drunk to the point of total apathy tonight.

The Pendulum Swings Again

2006-08-31T13:00:00.000+08:00

Why can't I seem to do anything right anymore?

Palpak, palpak, palpak. Lagi na lang palpak.

I'm getting really tired of this.

Everything's happening like last year again, on a much smaller scale, admittedly - but I don't fucking need this.

Why can't I just make like an amoeba and not feel anything?

* * *

There are some days (or nights) when you just feel that nothing is going right. Last night (August 31) was one of them.

I don't know why, and neither can I explain how it felt. I was dead-tired, still half-hung-over from Embassy the previous night, and yet I couldn’t sleep.

I told my roommate, Tony: “Remember last week when you told me that you felt like you were going to die that very day? I’m feeling something similar now – but different in the sense in that I think I’m not going to wake up once I fall asleep.”

* * *

I’ve only been sober three of the past six nights, and I plan to get myself hammered senseless tonight and tomorrow night too. Yeah, I’m borderline alcoholic; bite me.

* * *

An ex-girlfriend once told me that I was too much of a control freak – that I had to be in control of myself, my world, and the people around me as well. I don’t know if it’s that bad, but I’m starting to realize that maybe it’s true.

Yeah, I may be one of the more spontaneous people you’ll ever know (or maybe my personality’s just too erratic, I don’t know), but I still have to maintain some degree of control over myself or my grades, at the very least. But I’ve been seriously fucking up recently – emotionally, academically, and even physically – and I don’t like it.

* * *

It’s September 1, people. Let me be the first one to greet you a very merry Christmas.

It sure looks like it’s going to be another cold, lonely, one for me, though.

In Which He Notices the Weather, Among Other Things

2006-08-26T17:23:00.000+08:00

Is it just me, or today just feels different? I mean, it feels like a set plucked out of some weird art film I just happened to wake up in.

* * *

I woke up at 11 o'clock this morning, despite setting my annoying alarm clock to ring at 8 o'clock. I set it that early so that I'd have a few hours to cram for my Econometrics exam at noon. Oh well, what I just want to say - I guess - is that I didn't get to study at all.

So I think I just horribly failed the test. I should've studied last night instead of spending the night watching dibidis - which, by the way, were so cool: 2046, Match Point, and A Scanner Darkly. I was kind of hoping that the test would've been easy; after all, I had a perfect record for all my Econometrics quizzes and problem sets anyway, right?

But no! The test had to be reminiscent of Stat 109 under that... grinning thing of a teacher of mine. Fucking A. It wouldn't matter whether you had studied or not because you wouldn't get what the whole test was about anyway.

Okay, enough ranting. I went out of the classroom with some of my classmates for a post-test cig. I looked around, and it was really queer - the whole of the courtyard in between De La Costa and SocSci was covered in fog. What the fuck. I've seen fog in Ateneo before - when I used to live in Cervini - but never during the daytime.

* * *

I think the weather might be partly responsible for everyone's generally foul mood today, like the fog somehow forces everyone to get up on the wrong side of their bed and drift around like zombies.

I did something in class that I haven't done in a long time. The teacher had just completed writing this long proof regarding the uses of matrix in multiple linear regression, and I found it marvelous, so I blurted out "Astonishing!" to the surprise of my classmates. That was stupid, but kind of funny, I guess.

Two of my classmates mentioned that they felt like vomiting right after taking the exam. One of the guys I was smoking with post-test mentioned that he vomited right before the exam.

I feel like vomiting now.

* * *
Taking a clue from Sir Aly, the song of the week seems to be the Itchyworms' Akin Ka Na Lang. Right, Tony? Haha

Akin ka na lang (akin ka na lang)
Iingatan ko ang puso mo
Akin ka na lang (akin na lang)
Wala nang hihigit pa sa'yo

Boo. :(

* * *

I found out something that relatively boosted my self-esteem today though. Thanks.

"Bakit ganon? Ang swangit naman. Kadiri."

* * *

Why can't I seem to write well today? No, not just that - I just can't do anything right today. Fuck.

I hope it's just the weather; maybe the state of things will change when night falls.

I am getting so drunk tonight.

In Which He is Overwhelmed

2006-08-25T19:29:00.000+08:00

I woke up an hour or so ago after seven hours of sleep.

At 11 o'clock this morning, I took my cough syrup and popped two Tylenols - I think I might have the flu, you see - set my alarm clock for 1 in the afternoon, and took a short nap.

I completely passed out and woke up at 6:30 in the evening, with five messages on my cellphone from various people who were looking for me. I'm really sorry, friends. I hope you understand.

Now it's 7 o'clock and I'm wide awake.

I really should be studying for my Econometrics long test tomorrow afternoon, working on the punchy sample article for Slate magazine that was due today, or starting to work on my group's one-month late superproject paper for POM - but I just can't bring myself to.

It's one of those Friday nights that are on the butt end of one hell week, and on the cusp of another - when you usually go out with your friends, spend half the past week's allowance to get yourself happily drunk, and flirt with a girl (or two) hoping she's as drunk enough as you are to make your night worthwhile.

But no - I'm going to be in the condo the whole night. It's not that I really should be doing my school work. I'm just too lonely.

I haven't felt like this in months. I don't know - I guess I've been too busy since school started to actually bother with being lonely. But I'm as busy now as I've always been, and I just can't bring myself to work.

Right now, I just want to be underneath a bright, cloudless, summer night. I want to be in Cuenca Park in Ayala Alabang. I want to just be silent, be satisfied, be happy - to just be - counting stars with somebody on a stone bench in the middle of nowhere.

Loneliness can be so overwhelming sometimes.

In Which He Discovers Something New

2006-08-19T19:36:00.000+08:00

I just discovered Multiply's cross-posting feature.

Fucking coolness, man!

My entries actually look better if you read them off my multiply site.

Midnight Entry # 6 - In Which He Falls Sick

2006-08-18T01:26:00.000+08:00

I've started to suffer from Senior Syndrome.

Oh, no.

Someone save me please.

I'm Getting Old

2006-08-16T00:47:00.000+08:00

I'm not as robust as I used to be.

I typed 26 pages in 8 hours this morning - from 12 MN to 9 AM. I'm too tired now.

My back hurts.

In Which He Has a Change of Heart

2006-08-14T20:32:00.000+08:00

I got a letter from Procter & Gamble this morning, inviting me to complete an application for a position with them as early as next week.

I feel really weird about it, though.

I mean, I've been looking forward to this since high school - you know, the multibillion-dollar-worth-companies-offering-you-jobs even-before-you-graduate-from-university kind of experience. In fact, I think the prospect of this happening to me is what actually enticed me into getting into this hellish, impractical course of mine in the first place.

And well, now that I've actually attained what I theoretically worked my ass off for the past three-and-a-half years, now that I'm actually here - I find that I'm not as excited as I think I should be. It didn't even make me smile; hell, I don't even feel anything special about it.

I know that I'm at great risk of sounding like an arrogant, ungrateful asshole again, and I also know that hundreds of people would sell their left testicles or ovaries for this kind of opportunity, but I simply don't know what direction to take with my life after I graduate.

Part of me wants to continue with this - I mean, I am a marketing-oriented person after all, and P&G is the biggest consumer goods company in the world - but look how my summer-long stint with the second biggest consumer goods company in the world turned out.

Several other parts of me want me to go somewhere else - the pharmaceutical industry, for example, where I can leverage on my dad's name to get to a high-up position rather quickly; I'm also considering further studies in law, which several good friends of mine are encouraging me to get into. I just honestly don't know, and I'm sure you'd have to agree that it's kind of too late for me to rush head-long into decisions that I might just regret later on.

What do I actually want?, you may ask.

To tell the truth, I want to either be a travel writer for Lonely Planet, or just recently, a Vice President for Disney International. That would be heavenly.

What should I do?

Random Realizations # 4 - On Fickleness

2006-08-11T22:41:00.000+08:00

I can't believe it.

I've actually become fickle.

So this is what it feels like. I don't like it.

Ang labo mo kasi.

Midnight Entry # 5 - In Which He Writes About Loss and is Humbled

2006-08-08T01:14:00.000+08:00

I think I might've jinxed my good luck by writing about it.

I'm sure those of you on my YM list know that I lost my phone recently. It was pretty stupid of me actually - it was 2:30 in the morning, I had just finished writing the previous entry, and was in McDonald's Katipunan with my roommate happily munching away on McNuggets and salty fries. And there - I think I might've left my phone on the table when we walked back home.

By the time I had realized my phone was missing (around an hour later, I believe) it was already turned off and I couldn't contact it anymore. I walked to McDo at 4:00 and ended up going through the trash bins with the server on duty to see if he "accidentally" threw it away.

That really ruined my day. Because I didn't have my phone anymore - hence no alarm clock - I wasn't able to wake up at 8:00 later that morning and ended up standing up my groupmates at an important meeting. I woke up at 10:00, ran to school for my 10:45 Th151 orals with Andrew, and ended up totally screwing it up.

You can probably imagine how pissed I was for the rest of the day because my good luck seemed to have turned so quickly. Strange, though, that I wasn't as depressed as I thought I would be; maybe the positive vibes from the past week were still rubbing off on me, I don't know.

Thankfully, my parents didn't get mad when I told them that I lost my phone - I mean, after all, I haven't bought a new phone in four years, and that phone was just a hand-me-down from my dad. Oh, and it just came free with a postpaid plan too.

Anyway - I was smoking in front of the condo, telling Anna and Ding about how unlucky I suddenly was, when two street kids came along to ask me for loose change. I was still bitching about my phone, so I gave them the cold shoulder and kept on ranting.

Anna and Ding went up to the condo and I hadn't finished my stick yet, so I ended up sitting alone on the front steps. The two kids sat beside me and kept asking me for loose change, so I gave them six pesos to split between themselves.

The younger of the two kids, a little girl barely old enough to talk, then pointed to the Havaianas I was wearing:

Kuya, ang ganda naman ng tsinelas mo. Akin na lang! Wala akong tsinelas o.
[Big brother, you have such nice slippers. Can I have them? Look I don't have slippers on.]

She then lifted her legs to show me her bare feet.

Feeling a little goofy, I told her:

Ngek. Madadapa ka 'pag sinuot mo 'to no. Tingnan mo wala pang kalahati ng paa ko 'yung paa mo.
[What? You'll trip if you wear these, you know. Look - your foot isn't even half mine!]

I put the sole of my foot opposite hers to show her the size disparity.

She then said:

Kuya nasira kasi tsinelas ko eh. Sabi ng nanay ko bibili kami ng tsinelas diyan sa palengke pag may pera na kami. Sana sa susunod na linggo.
[But big brother, I broke my slippers. My mom says that we're going to buy new ones at the market when we have the money already. Hopefully that'll be next week.]

I kept quiet for a while; I didn't know what to say.

She then goes:

Kuya, alam mo ba, namatay nung nakaraang linggo yung dalawa kong kapatid. Ako na lang yung baby sa bahay ngayon. Ay hindi pala, nanganak ulit si nanay - tatlo na ulit kaming bata sa bahay.
[Big brother, do you know that my two siblings died last week? I'm the only baby left at home now. No, wait - my mom just gave birth again - we're three kids at home now.]

Surprised, I asked her what her siblings died of.

She said:

Nakakain daw kasi sila ng masamang bacteria - ayun 'di naman po namin kaya sila ipa-ospital. Namatay na lang po sila.
[They supposedly ingested some sort of harmful bacteria, apparently. We couldn't afford to send them to the hospital, so there - they died.]

Then she smiles.

That incident made me feel so ashamed of myself.

Midnight Entry # 4 - In Which He Craves for Food

2006-08-03T01:44:00.000+08:00

Late night cravings are the worst.

Mrs. Fields' White Chocolate Chip Cookies

Cibo's Fettucine Carbonara

Baskin' Robbins' Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Ice Cream

Teriyaki Boy Chicken

Pritchon

Lechon Cebu

MISTER KABAB

Yakisoba

McDonald's Chicken Nuggets

Jollibee's Chicken Joy

California Maki

EBI TEMPURA

Buffalo Wings

CPK CHICKEN BARBEQUE PIZZA

A BIG FAT BLOODY STEAK

BABY BACK RIBS

I am drooling. I hate this.

I Hope I Don't Jinx Myself By Blogging This...

2006-08-02T00:45:00.000+08:00

... but I seem to be undergoing a rather fortuitous time in my life.

Finally, eh?

It's not that nothing bad's happening to me recently - no, shit still happens; this is life, after all. It's more like the shit just doesn't hit the fan anymore, which is a welcome relief in my opinion. For once, life seems to be giving me a break.

I've been really worried recently about my group's super project recently (yeah, the integrated paper for three 3-unit classes: QMT 129, POM 105, and L&S 125) because we haven't started on our first output yet, which was due two weeks ago. Actually, fine - we don't have a company to audit yet.

So there, I was working on my POM WAC 1 in Starbucks last night, when I got a call from Sir Johnny:

Sir: Jonat, do you have a company for your superproject already?
Jonat: Yes sir, I've already talked to my mom and it looks like the semiconductor company she's working for seems interested in having us audit them.
Sir: Ah, sayang. I have a company here looking for someone to do some consultancy work for them. Do you know of any other groups in your batch who still don't have a company to work for?
Jonat: I don't think so, sir. Why?
Sir: This is from the management of a resort in Cebu who's willing to fly a group of students in absolutely free, at least twice. They need it that badly.
Jonat: WHAT!? SIR KAMI NA LANG KAMI NA LANG! I'll talk to my groupmates.
Sir: Yes, you should do that. Contact me if you make up your mind.
Jonat: [I almost said abso-fucking-lutely] Absolutely! Thanks sir!

And there - I'll be flying to Cebu at least twice this sem. Fuck my Monday morning P.E. classes, right? Cebu, here I come baby. I missed you.

This afternoon in my L&S 125 class, Maron gave me a letter to apply for a training "bootcamp" for the Top 25 Marketing Management Trainees, which I humbly and honestly don't know how I qualified for. I mean, my marketing grades were good, but not at the top of my class, and I totally fucked up my group's oral presentation. Maybe it's because I have all these crazy ideas? I mean, all my WACs involved some wacky idea that I bullshat into existence. (i.e. I just wrote a 10-page paper on how a bicycle manufacturing company in Japan should next focus on a program to let consumers Pimp their Bikes. What the hell.)

And to think that I was considering another career choice after graduation because I didn't think I'd be cut out for marketing or sales (because of my rather disappointing experience as a summer intern in a consumer goods manufacturing company). I'm actually pretty excited about this.

That's it for now.

Wish me even more luck :)

Cheers!

I Just Came Home from Ponti

2006-07-29T02:22:00.000+08:00

And the word of the week is frumpy.

A Rainy Week and First Frogs

2006-07-28T15:12:00.000+08:00

This week was eventful.

It started out with two wonderful days of suspended classes, of which I spent most of the time cooped up alone in the condo. But that was okay, I guess. Here's a special shout-out to Liane for keeping me company! Thanks.

Wednesday was bland except for the fact that I think I failed my P.E. Pre-Finals. [Yes, once again, I am a college Senior still taking one last sem of P.E. because of a registration mistake back in Sophomore year.] Fucking tai chi.

Thursday was hell. I had to cram two papers (one for a customer, and one for myself) and a presentation; the latter made up 10 or 20 % of my final grade in PolSci and it turned out okay, I guess. It didn't meet my standards, but my groupmates said it was fairly okay. Oh well, I had to make it up to the world for the past three days spent bumming around.

Then I went to Eastwood to watch Sitti (the bossa nova girl) with Josh, Liane, Sarah, and Pey (a.k.a. Pericles "Hari ng Pampanga" Mallari II a.k.a. Poultry Man a.k.a. Pig Man a.k.a. Potato Man), after which we (okay fine, I) proceeded to get quite hammered on some alcohol.

That was fun. Let's do that again tomorrow.

I woke up at 9:10 with a slight hangover. I slipped my clothes on and ran to school. I was 3 minutes late for my 9:30 class. But it was okay. There was a pleasant surprise waiting for me on my desk.

Today, after taking three sems of Operations Research, I finally got my first FROG. I am so satisfied with my life. I can die right now.

For your information, my OR professor stamps your exam paper with a stamp of a jumping frog if you got at least 90% on it. I got a 94. I haven't gotten an A in any major course long test in over a year.

I went home to Alabang after OR because it was my only class today. Now I'm bored.

Now I'm off to the MEABabe GAP 1.

The Seniors' presentation had better be funny. Jaryd, Ryan, and Simon na to!

[This entry lacks unity and coherence, and some sentences are worded too awkwardly. I'm too lazy to edit. Forgive me.]

An Update

2006-07-25T13:26:00.000+08:00

This is for all you people who're clamoring for an update. Hehe.

Aside from the fact that I'm getting my life back on track - one painful step at a time - nothing much is new.

I study practically every night with Josh and his friends in Starbucks, and hence I have this feeling that this sem is actually going to turn out pretty well grade-wise. But then again I haven't had taken any major tests yet. Oh well.

And strangely enough, I'm losing weight without even trying. I'm halfway to my target weight. Woohoo. Mueslix and Century Lite, I love you. If only it actually becomes visible.

* * *

I was walking to school the other day and I saw my former roommate, Cacao. We had a little discussion (while continuing to walk in opposite directions, of course) until it reached the point where I had to turn my torso towards him to continue walking.

And at which point I sprained my ankle after stepping on a freaking line in the sidewalk. Geez, it wasn't even elevated.

That's it for now. I really don't have anything to write.

A Possibility

2006-07-07T01:10:00.000+08:00

I think I'm bipolar.

Midnight Entry # 3 - The Story of My Life

2006-07-02T23:49:00.000+08:00

I'm alone in the condo yet again.

Migraine

2006-06-28T22:20:00.000+08:00

These gave me serious headaches tonight.

An attempt to get help from an HP Online Technician

and

Steve Burns (Blue's Clues).

I wish Blogger had LJ cuts.

A Waste of Time

2006-06-27T23:12:00.000+08:00

I went to Ortigas after school early this evening, all swanked up in my favorite pair of pinstripe pants, a light cotton long-sleeved top, and a nice pair of shoes, to attend what was supposed to be a preliminary meeting to a series of financial analysis training sessions.

It turned out to be yet another attempt to recruit me into another network marketing scheme.

I sat through three hours of outdated videos, inaccurate facts, and long-winded spiels on how their company was the best, how it could help me earn money quickly - you know, the usual shit.

I sat though the whole of it, just to be proper, but I was bent on giving a polite no to the recruiter afterwards.

Me: I'm sorry, but it's against my principles to join any network marketing schemes. It's just that I've seen so many friendships broken, so many people blaming each other for not winning back their initial investments - you know, these kinds of incidents - in this kind of business. And besides, I don't personally know anyone who has actually succeeded in this sort of racket. [And I told an anecdote about how I had a friend who went through three network marketing schemes one after the other, going bust on each one.]

Him: [Apparently having ran out of things to say to convince me] But maybe you just feel inferior to this friend of yours because you don't think you can succeed in life.

Me: [At first I didn't quite get his retort to my arguments, but eventually I realized that it was a last-ditch attempt to challenge my ego. Wrong move bud.] You know what, no thanks. I'm leaving. Me, and my network of contacts (who are actual business majors, by the way) who you're trying so hard to recruit - we don't believe that this kind of business - no offense - we don't believe that this whole network marketing thing is the proper way of doing business; heck, we don't even think that it's real business.

And I know I'm not what I used to be, but I sure as hell wanted to say - You don't fucking know who you're talking to, bitch. Don't you dare call me inferior. Go pass UP or Ateneo first. Fuck off - I'll call you when I make my first billion and I'll give you a real job.

Disappointment

2006-06-21T22:54:00.000+08:00

As a child, I was raised to believe that I could do anything I wanted to do, as long as I put my mind to it. And I do mean anything - be it becoming a world-class surgeon, training to be an astronaut, winning the Nobel prize, or somehow ending up the next Bill Gates.

I grew up with my parents, teachers, and everyone else around me telling me that I was smart, that I was talented, that I had potential, and well - that I was special. And I believed them.

For the longest time, I just had to be the best at everything that I did, just because I could - for the sole reason that I believed that I deserved nothing but the absolute best. And the weird thing was, for a time I was at the top of my game without even trying, as if it was out of the sheer strength of my force of will.

And it was great, while it lasted - I topped the motherfucking UPCAT (which, honestly, I still have no idea how I did), got full scholarships to every university I applied to, graduated second in my batch, and got 1470 on my SATs (780 in Math and 690 in Verbal - that's Ivy League calibre). I had every reason to have just flown out then and there.

And yet, out of that stupid sense of invulnerability I had then - out of that naive notion that there was always going to be a second chance, another opportunity, I opted to stay in the country.

I blew it.

Sure, I got into a good course in a respectable local university, got reasonably good grades, and was pretty active in my home org for a while. And well, I also got the girl of my dreams after what I once considered a perfect courtship, and it was probably stupid of me to think that the relationship was worth it. But for a time, I thought that I had made the right decision, that I was still on track. I figured that I could work my ass off to get high grades, graduate with Latin honors, and take my graduate studies in an Ivy League in a few years.

But I blew it.

In a single year, I have been reduced to a ghost of the guy I once was. The guy who used to join Math competitions every year - he almost flunked his Statistics class. The guy who used to be a know-it-all can't even recite in class anymore because he's too scared of saying something stupid. The guy who was once known for his sense of humor - well, he hasn't told a single joke in months. The guy who once swore to a close friend that he'd first do drugs than as much as light up one cigarette - he's tried practically every single vice in the book. The guy who used to be so active in Church, who used to play his guitar for God - he's a bitter atheist now. And the guy who made it a point to never miss a single LSYC retreat, who used to be so passionate about helping and counselling other people - he can't even help himself.

I blew it.

All the mistakes I've made in the past have now caught up to me, and now I've lost everything I've worked my ass off for my entire life, and whatever opportunities do come my way I just seem to screw up quite masterfully.

And yes, I am aware that I'm sounding like a totally arrogant prick. Before you start judging me and begin to tell me that I'm still better off than most other people, at least acknowledge where I'm coming from. Whatever I've received, I do try to give away. I've done my best to be an overall nice guy - to not step on anyone else's feet, to mind my own business, and to just do my best. And I may be wrong at everything else, but the one thing I do know is that I do not deserve this.

So much for believing that I could do anything I put my mind to, huh? So much for being special. All I feel now is stupid, ugly, and worthless.

This whole growing up thing - it hurts.

* * *

I started the sem planning to take it easy after the living hell that was last year - you know, just take the requisite units of M.E. then bother with my other degree later on. I planned to stay an entire extra year after fourth year to then complete my second degree.

But I've seen and heard enough in just the first three days of the school year to want out of this place. I just need to get away from here, in as short a time as possible.

And so I got my grubby hands on a load revision form and signed up for five more units of classes. That's twenty-three fucking units in total. I actually have classes from three to six in the afternoon on Saturdays, for crying out loud. I know that I'm up for inhuman levels of stress for the remaining duration of my stay in college, and that this might actually turn out to be one of the stupidest things I've ever done, but what the fuck.

I just want out of this place. I want to get away from everything that reminds me of what a failure I am now and just start over.

But there's still one whole year and one more sem to endure, and I'm scared shitless.

Help.

...

2006-06-19T15:39:00.000+08:00

I saw them together today.

I'm shaking so badly I can't even move. I don't even know what to write.

Putangina naman wag naman sa school ko please... Ito na ang kaisa-isang lugar na puwede akong maging ako, na puwede ko takasan ang nangyari. So please lang, tama na - masyado mo na akong sinaktan

Hindi ko na madala sarili ko lumabas sa condo ko ngayon... Baka kung ano pa makita ko. Putangina naman isang taon pa to ganito

Sinira niyo na buhay ko, please wag niyo na ako guluhin. Please lang

First day na first day ko putangina sira na kaagad sem ko. Nanginginig pa rin ako hindi ako makatigil. Naiiisip ko lang paulit-ulit na putangina putangina putangina

Alam mo, minsan talaga pinapangarap ko na kaya ko maging kasing manhid mo na lang. I wish I could just stop caring.

Ang dami ko pang kailangan gawin pero putangina hindi ako makagalaw dahil nanginginig pa rin ako

It's just so ironic that just when I started thinking that things might actually start getting better now that school's started, this happens. It's just so unfair...

Putangina di ko alam gagawin ko...

Take Me Away With You Tonight

2006-06-14T06:53:00.000+08:00

My parents got home from a two-week long stint in New Jersey and New York last night.

The second thing that my mom said when she saw me was, "You know what, you should live in New York. Your lifestyle's perfect for it", which was something I've known all along. But she just had to bring it up, didn't she? Now I can't stop thinking about it.

I want to leave this stupid country for good.

I want to go somewhere totally new where I don't know anybody and nobody knows me, and I want to completely forget about everything that happened to me during the past five years. And I mean absolutely everything - school, Alabang, the Ateneo, Katipunan, work. And yeah, her. Actually, fine - just her. And everything that happened because of her.

Yes, I know. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, right? And yes, I know I'm running away again. I just want something new, and there seems to be nothing good going on for me here in the Philippines anymore.

I can't wait to leave. Seriously. I just want to go anywhere (a nice bustling city with a nice culinary and night life, or a quiet beach in the middle of nowhere, or yeah, even a vineyard somewhere in Spain or France - that would be nice) and start a new life, you know: Find a simple job that I enjoy doing, settle down in a nice homey place of my own, and well, maybe find someone exactly like her.

[EDIT: 06.15.06] Over dinner last night, my parent told me and my siblings stories about how well-off Filipino doctors were in the States. I mentioned something like, "I'm going straight to the States to either work or study right after I graduate. I'm so sick of this country." And my mom said in reply, "Okay, go! And if I were you I'd marry a Filipina doctor - they make tons of money."

And I suddenly felt giddy because I suddenly imagined a real-life Meredith Grey. Holy shit, this is so stupid. I actually went straight to Ruins after work last night just to buy the second season set of Grey's Anatomy because I just had to.

One Week Forward

2006-06-13T00:12:00.000+08:00

I can’t wait until school starts next week.

I’ve been spending so much time alone the past few weeks, and it’s so fucking miserable. It’s the same thing every single weekday – I wake up early in the morning, drive myself to work, spend nine requisite hours in a mind-numbing desk job where my bosses think I’m a worthless dilettante, spend two or three hours overtime to prove them wrong, drive home, eat dinner, and flop on my bed exhausted. Wash. Rinse. Dry. Repeat cycle.

And because I suck so much at my job, I’ve extended my internship to Friday this week just to meet all my deadlines. Yup, I’ve no free time before school starts; no rest for the wicked, eh? Wish me luck. I sure need it. I haven’t had Lady Luck on my side for practically the whole year.

Weekends are practically the same. Sure, I’ve had my share of parties and drinking sessions during the early part of the summer, but now all my weekends are reduced to are: working on spreadsheets (yes, I’ve been forced to bring my work home now), reading books in bed, smoking while stargazing from my bedroom window, and writing alone in Starbucks over a cup of steaming tea.

It’s depressing, when I think about it. My social life, which is practically nothing to be proud of when I’m in Katipunan (being composed mostly of getting drunk or smoking up alone in my apartment, with the occasional impromptu drinking session thrown in twice or thrice a week), is virtually non-existent when I’m in Alabang. Sure, you can argue that it’s healthy to have some time alone to reflect and wind down – but fuck, this is just ridiculous. In the span of a year, I’ve been reduced from a satisfied guy with his whole life ahead of him, and who couldn’t ask for anything more, to an obese, insecure, solitary failure – who, despite his ever-quickening descent into melancholy, just can’t let go of the notion of something better happening to him. I don’t know if it’s still hope I’m feeling, though; all I know is that I want something better. I fucking deserve something better than what I’m going through now.

That’s why I just can’t wait until school starts next week.

At least in school I don’t have to be alone. I have friends – if you can call them that – who I can drink with, or more importantly, rant incoherently to when I’m drunk. I have work – which is nothing compared to real work in the corporate jungle, believe me – which makes me feel like I’m worth something. And well, while in school I have hours and hours of free time to read books in bed, to smoke while looking out of the apartment window, and to write stuff like this over steaming cups of tea.

* * *

Having finished two of Gregory Maguire’s books recently (Wicked and Mirror Mirror, if you have to know), I then turned my attention to the big screen.

I watched X-Men: The Last Stand last night with my two youngest siblings. It was okay. I then watched the Lost season two finale with a bowl of microwave popcorn and two Pop Tarts. That, on the other hand, was simply mind-provoking; I can’t wait for the next season. I couldn’t sit still after that, so I then watched the pilot episode of the first season of Grey’s Anatomy. And I just couldn’t stop watching until I had to force myself to my room after finishing the first two discs.

Now I’m thinking – I should’ve become a doctor instead. I mean, come on, I’ve been reading medical texts since I was four years old (my dad’s a physician), I’m extremely good at memorizing obscure facts, terms, and procedures, and I’ve always been fascinated with the natural sciences. And yes, I do thrive on adrenaline rushes like doctors in Grey’s Anatomy go through (but yeah, it’s just a TV series, I know, and it’s set in the States, we don’t have stuff like that here in the boondocks). And it sure helps that I’m extremely attracted to Meredith Grey’s character in the series too.

[EDIT 06.13.06: I just finished all nine episodes of Season 1 today. I need Season 2 or else I'm going to go insane. Really. It's all I'm living for now. I actually left work early just to rush home and watch G.A. What's next after I finish Season 2? I don't know. Probably Prison Break or The O.C. Yes, I need to get a life, I know. And can I just say, Ellen Pompeo's voice is so hot. God, I want a doctor for a girlfriend if she looks and talks like she does.]

I’m pathetic, I know, getting crushes on fictional personas. I’ve got the biggest crush on Kitty Pryde’s character (Shadowcat) in X-3 too. God, how sad can I get. Sometimes I think I watch too many films and read too many books. I guess I never really grew out of being the fat, nerdy kid I used to be back in Elementary, eh?

Then again, I hate my life (as if you haven’t noticed that already, right?) I can’t count how many times I’ve woken up in the morning wishing that my life as I knew it was just some big nightmare I had as some poor obese Filipino guy with nothing right going on for him, and wishing that it was now time to get up and go to school (as if it were my first day of college and hadn’t screwed everything up yet, isn’t that grand?) and work for my bright, bright future.

But no, I’m stuck in this body, in this life. Fiction, films – they help me escape from the reality I’m in; they help me imagine that I’m someone else or somewhere else.

And yet, there are only so many books I can read, so many pirated DVDs I can watch, and sooner or later I have to face up to the real world again. I’m so tired of running away.

I’m just so tired. I'm too old for angst.

Two Years: Of Stars, Names, and Bowling Pins

2006-06-11T14:29:00.000+08:00

This post was originally written on the 28th of May, 2006. Yes, I know it's two weeks late.

This one's for you.

The password is the answer to the question: Which constellation was our star in?
(Type it in small caps, please).

My Personhood

2006-06-09T10:34:00.000+08:00

Advocating Artist

Here's a link to the definition of what an Advocating Artist actually is.

Let's take a more in-depth look at that square, shall we?

I'll arrange these results from highest to lowest, along with the definitions of each trait.

Attention to Style - 98
How aware you are of fashion trends. How much effort you put in to your own style.
Masculinity - 96
The degree of your stereotypically-male traits.
Openness - 92
Your degree of openness to new experiences.
Spontaneity - 88
How comfortable you are with making plans at the last minute.
Aesthetic/Functional - 78 (I'm more aesthetic)
Your prefererence for beauty or form. Low means you care more about how something works. High means you care more about how something looks.
Extroversion - 66
How outgoing you are. High means you are extroverted. Low means you are introverted.
Empathy - 58
How much you understand (and experience) the emotions and thoughts of others.
Authoritarianism - 30
Your adherence to the social order and how much you favor obedience.
Femininity - 14
The degree of your stereotypically-female traits.
Earthy/Imaginative - 6 (I'm more imaginative)
Your prefererence for concrete or abstract things. Low means you prefer abstract, theoretical things. High means you prefer detail-oriented, practical things.
Agency - 4
How much you believe you determine your own outcomes. High means you believe that you have control over your life. Low means you believe that other factors—such as chance, fate, and powerful others—influence your life.
Confidence - 2
How confident you are about expressing your opinions and accomplishing things.
Trust in Others - 2
The general faith you have in other people; how much you think people are good at heart.

First - I have no idea why my highest trait is Attention to Style. I DO know what kinds of clothes girls look hot in - that's basically it. Well, okay. I know what clothes are nice for me and I'm aware of what the latest trends are, but that doesn't necessarily mean I buy or wear them. Maybe when I lose weight. (Yeah, I know, I've been saying that since forever). And at least my second highest trait is Masculinity; that offsets the gayness of the first one.

On a more serious note - yes, people. I have resigned myself to fate. I don't see the point of taking risks or planning ahead anymore - shit just keeps on happening to me no matter what I do. What's the use?

And yes, my confidence and trust levels are in the lower 2% of the sample results. I don't trust other people, okay? I don't trust myself either.

Ahh, yes. I feel like shit.

Exhaustion

2006-06-02T08:32:00.000+08:00

I got caught by the police again today.

I was on my way back to the office from a business trip to print some tarps in Caloocan City – yes, Caloocan City, the northernmost city of Metro Manila (located just a little below Bulacan), and which is as provincial to the North as Cavite is to the South – and after stopping over for a while in Ayala Center to buy a book, have some tea, and be pleasantly surprised by a couple of friends who recently graduated from Ateneo, when I was pulled over by the Makati traffic cops (the previous two were the Manila police and the MMDA). Apparently I was in the wrong lane when taking a right turn to the Osmena Highway from some Buendia offshoot road (Mayapis, if I recall correctly). I’m just too tired to explain my side to you readers now, so I’ll just leave it at that. Fine, maybe I am guilty. Shoot me.

To cut a long story short, my license got confiscated again and now I have to claim it from the Makati Traffic Office or somewhere else within five working days.

What the actual point of this entry is, I just don’t get it anymore – my life, I mean. Why is it that whenever I’m actually starting to recover – to actually be satisfied, if happy's too much to ask for – something has to happen to pull me back down into depression?

Hindi na ako maka-ahon. Nakakainis na talaga, sa totoo lang.

Why does shit keep happening to me? Absolutely nothing good has happened to me in the past year, and I’m getting really, really tired already. I’m too tired to even get pissed about it.

At sawang-sawa na talaga ako sa buhay ko.

I have finally began to realize that I don’t deserve all that's happening to me. Why does fate, God, the Universe, the karmic principle, or whatever name you give that sadistic entity, keep on throwing shit at me when honestly all I’m doing is trying to be nice? You know, nice – trying my best to be a good friend to my friends, helping people who need my help, just trying not to hurt anyone around me, minding my own business, and letting other people be happy with their lives. It's just unfair; it really is.

I know I’m beginning to sound self-righteous, but fuck, this is just ridiculous.

I am just so tired. Please, someone, just kill me in my sleep. Please.

A Rather Short Entry

2006-05-22T13:21:00.000+08:00

Yes, I know I haven't been blogging much recently. I've been fairly busy, you see.

But to keep all ye loyal readers (yeah, right) happy, here are two pictures that tell the story of my life as of late.

Yep, that is a Hyundai Starex on the Skyway. I usually hit 150 kph. Note the blurred, green D at the top of the instrument display? The van's automatic, baby. And it's a diesel. Note the time in the lower-right part of the picture? My work's at 7:30. HAHA. Ergo, I run late everyday. Go figure.

Yep, that's Sir Ely Buendia himself. On a normal Thursday night in Paranaque, none the less.

Fare thee well, friends.

Yes, It's a Survey

2006-05-21T11:22:00.000+08:00

I haven't answered a survey online since high school, but I came across this on Raisa's LJ and I just couldn't help but answer it (then I got a longer version from the Friendster bulletin board just because I felt like it).

Oh, and I'll be writing this entry mostly in Filipino; I find it weird to answer in English to questions written in Filipino. Bear with me, I find it hard to read Filipino sometimes too.

* * *

Anong batch mo?
Batch 2003, baby. The funkiest batch to have ever graduated from Zobel. Tangina ang sabog nun. Hahaha.

Sinong principal inabutan mo?
Division 1 Principal ko si Ms. Gloria. She was fat and scary. Division 2 Principal ko si Ms. Boyles. She was even scarier - remember that squeaky, whiny voice that just gave you goosebumps? For high school, it was Mr. Sagum (wait, who was the principal before he came back from Australia with his super-bitin shirt and his fake accent?)

Nagbibigay ka ba sa mission collection lagi?
Rarely, kung may coins lang ako na ayokong kumakalantsing sa bulsa ko. O kaya pag nag-iipon ako ng good karma.

Napatawag ka na ba ng principal?
Eto, nung Grade 1, muntikan na kaming dalawa makick-out ni Arun. Nasa park kami sa likod ng Grade 1 nung recess time. Tapos ayun, diba madaming puno ng mangga dun? Nakakita ako ng mangga na nakasabit sa puno.

Sabi ko kay Arun, na best friend ko na simula Senior Prep - Arun, Arun, look at the mango hanging from the tree. I'm hungry, let's go get it. Oo, sobrang inglesero kaming dalawa nun. Ako sobrang tabang mukhang siopao, siya mataba na may salamin. Hahahaha. So ang ginawa niya, kumuha siya ng mahabang pirasong kahoy tapos binato niya yung mangga. Eh malamang hindi umabot. Sakto, may batchmate kami (di ko na lang sasabihin pangalan niya) na pababa sa slide.

AYUN KAPUL SA MUKHA. Buti di tumama sa mata niya. Ngayon may mahaba siyang peklat dun sa area na yun. Pagkatapos nun napatawag kami sa office ni Ms. Gloria tapos meron kaming sobrang habang sermon.

Sa aling school program ka pinakanatuwa?
Hm. Unang-una na dito lahat ng mga taun-taong interbatch na play, dahil masaya sila panoorin, at dahil sobra-sobrang mems ang mga practices para dito. Ibang klase talaga, halos yun na nga lang maalala ko sa high school.

Natuwa rin ako sa mga retreat, sa immersion, at sa mga LSYC na overnight event. Basta may overnight. Ibang klase kasi bonding sa mga ganong event, diba? Agree?

Eto pa, naaalala niyo yung mga party nung Grade 7 tsaka 1st Year tayo? HAHAHAHA. Yung music pa nung time na yun, shet RETRO! Tapos porma natin sa Grad Ball, long-sleeved polo na naka-tuck-in plus loose khaki slacks and brown shoes! Hahaha ang baduy!! Pero in fairness astig na yung mga party nung 1st Year ah - alala niyo yung Kalye 99? Medyo uso na trance nun.

Natuwa rin ako sa Ms. Intrams tsaka kung magpeperform yung GAP. Hahahaha. Kasi makikita mo yung chicks sa higher batches na kinalilibugan ng lahat ng tao.

Ano nilaruan mo sa intrams?
Volleyball, tug-of-war, tsaka pampuno ng listahan sa basketball. Chess nga rin pala!

Nakakain ka ba kina mr. teo?
Maniniwala ka bang hinding-hindi ako bumili ng kahit anong pagkain kay Mr. Teo? Sobrang nababahuan kasi ako sa kuchay pie, at ang weirdo sa akin ay hindi ako kumakain ng pagkaing mabaho. Oo, maarte ako sa pagkain, alam ko.

Hindi rin naman ako mahilig sa Chinese food, o kaya sa pagkain na maraming toyo. Kaya yun, never ako bumili kay Mr. Teo.

Pero ang paborito ko sa canteen yung Mr. Fried Rice (pawis at libag-flavored), tsaka yung Teppanyaki sa baba na puro mantika lang, at minsan may lamang screw yung ulam.

Naging prayer/lupang/hinirang/panatang makabayan ka ba sa monthly assembly sa auditorium?
Oo, sa pagkaka-alala ko. Pero pinaka-naaalala ko yung naglead ako ng Lupang Hinirang sa flagpole area nung grade school tayo tapos pumiyok ako.

May memories ka ba sa gate 3?
Oo! Yung mga poste na iniikutan natin nung grade school tayo! Tapos yung guard na inangasan nung isang foreigner na may dala-dalang tatlong rottweiler. Hahaha.

Tapos sa park syempre ang daming mems. Nung grade school ginulpi naming tatlo ni Jude at Andrew si Miggy sa taas nung mataas ng slide tapos umiiyak siya dun. Hahahaha. Pero nung high school naman nagyoyosi kami ni Miggy dun sa Little Tikes na bahay dun sa Gate 3 Park.

Tapos nung grade school pa tayo, sa Gate 3 ang terminal ng CASTRO BUS. Punyeta, YUN ang masaya. Hahaha. Kung pauwi kayo ng bahay, babatuhin nyo yung mga taong dumadaan ng kanin o kaya ulam, o kaya titirahin nyo ng papel mula sa rubber band. Tapos hahabulin nila yung bus, tapos mumurahin kayo, Tanginang bata ka, bastos ka. San ka nag-aaral? Tapos sasabihin mo, Sa La Salle po. Tapos sasabihin niya, Ah punyeta nakakahiya ka, sa La Salle ka pa naman nag-aaral. Tsaka nung Grade 4 ako, pinadrive pa sa akin ni Raul (yung driver ng Bus # 122) yung bus. Hahaha. Conductor namin nun si Tolits, anak ni Mang Tino, na driver na rin ngayon ng Zobel. Tsaka si Mang Joe galing pa sa Castro bus yun!

E sa library?
Oo chong! Nung grade school nagpaparamihan pa kami nila Monzon ng library card na mapupuno! HAHAHA ang loser. Nung high school naman siyempre tambayan para magpalamig, para wag-kumain-ng-lunch, tsaka magligawan ;)

Anung year ka nasama sa top ten?
Erm, more or less every year. Pero nung first year high school ata hindi? Haha. Matalino pa ako't hindi sabaw noon!

Ano part mo sa production nyo sa Florante at Laura? Nung Noli Fest? E nung Fili?
Sa Florante hindi ko talaga maalala eh. Basta isang extra lang. Tapos sa Noli, Kapitan Tiyago, na naging dahilan kung bakit walang-hiyang bastardo na ako ngayon. Sa Fili, si PECPECson. Haha. Pero every year ako gumagawa ng poster namin.

Sino partner mo nung JS Prom?
Nung third year, stag ako, pero gusto ko sana tanungin si (hmm.. she knows who she is), kaso hindi na kami nag-uusap noon. Nung fourth year, si Mon!

Pinaka-mabait na teacher?
Si Ms. Finis! Ang saya ka-bonding neto, nakakamiss. Tapos kung manlait kami ng mga tao... HEHEHE.

Pinaka-masamang teacher?
Si Ms. Gulapa. Walang hiyang bruha yan, binigyan ako ng 80 sa Art nung Grade 3. Pakshet. First and only third honors certificate ko sa buong buhay ko sa Zobel.

Na-clinic ka ba?
Always, kapag sobrang inaantok na ako pupunta ako dun para matulog ng 1 to 2 hours. Or kapag kailangan ko lang maglakad-lakad pupunta ako dun. Or nung hindi pa gawa yung CPA, para jumebs.

Ano ang pangalan ng school nurse?
Yung nurse na malaki na kamukha ni Conan the Librarian. HAHAHAHAHA.

Nagka bagsak na grade ka ba?
Hindi eh. Madali pa ang high school.

Anong paborito mong bilhin sa canteen?
Mr. Fried Rice, Snacka Chicka, Beef at Chicken Teppanyaki, Pork Tocino, at ang pagkain sa Maison's kapag may okasyon.

Anong ginagawa mo tuwing fair or foundation week?
Nanghuhuli ng mga uto-utong bata para magkapera. Kapag hindi sila nagbayad sisprayan namin ng suka, toyo, at patis. HAHAHA. Sure bail na halos yun.

Tumatambay ka ba sa parking lot ng gate 5?
Dein, masyadong madaming tao dun eh, madali ma-tus.

Favorite tambayan?
Hands down, Gate 2, nung may mga bench pa na built-in sa poste.

Anong parusa sa inyo pag late kayo?
Ha? Diba ililista ka lang nun. Tapos pag 3 late = PTC?

Ano ang ibig sabihin ng SRCC?
Student Representative Coordinating Council.

Sino president nyo nung 4th year kayo?
Si Gino.

Nag cutting classes ka na ba?
Not illegally. I was always out of school for math and science contests anyway. I'd be with Miggy, then we'd go to Glorietta and smoke on the U-sihan in Rustan's. Haha. At one time, Mr. Alucilja treated us out to watch a steamy B-movie.

Ay pucha oo pala! Nung grade school ako tumakas ako sa ilalim ng Gate 3. Hahaha.

Nagyoyosi ka ba dun sa parking sa Gate 5?
Hassle sa Gate 5 dude. Wag dun. Pero pag-graduate ko nagyosi ako sa tapat mismo ng guard sa Gate 3.

Kumusta naman ung locker mo sa classroom?
Basurahan. Haha.

May napanalunan ka bang award?
Marami-rami. See my resume na lang. Haha.

Ano’ng inumin ang lagi mong binibili?
Magkahalong MUG rootbeer tsaka Royal sa baba ng canteen.

Sino class officers nyo nung 4th year?
Shet di ko maalala. Sorry. Basta Kris as secretary and Star as treasurer. Jabs ba VP and Chami Pres?

May codenames ba kayo sa mga teacher, ano yon?
Si Conan the Librarian! HAHAHA. Tsaka yung kamukha niyang Nurse. Tapos si Pokemon, sa guidance. Si 5'2 5'4. Yung drama queen na adviser nung 4th year. The Grinch! Ursula! The Chef! Madami pa yun! Hahaha.

Sumali ka ba ng slogan making at poster making para lang ma-excuse sa class?
Nope, I wasn't the artistic type back then.

Nakapag-print ka ba kahit minsan sa comp lab?
Always. I was a crammer back then pa lang.

Nanalo ba batch nyo sa cheering competition?
HAHAHAHA NEVER. First batch never to have won a SINGLE championship. I love it!

Nag YFC ka ba?
Oo, tapos nung camp namin, MegaCamp, tapos may mga kasama kaming nagbabakes sa banyo. Kaya yun, turned-off ako sa YFC hanggang ngayon.

Ano’ng theme ng graduation nio?
What do you mean theme? Ayos lang. Masaya. Lahat kami gusto na umalis.

Final grade sa accounting?
Low 90s.

Favorite teacher?
Holy shit, this list could go on and on.

Mr. Corral, Mr. Siriban (Ahh, heavenly bodies! Too bad he was demoted to Physical Facilities), Mr. Fabian (we interviewed this guy about sex for CL, and he was like, By all means lose your virginity before you get married, ano yun? When you do it with your wife mas marunong pa siya sayo? I lost mine to a prostitute in Manila!), Sir Buddy, Ms. Finis, Ms. Matic (The hell, who doesn't know Ms. Matic, right?), and Mr. Cortel, to name a few.

San kayo dumederetso after ng exams?
Of course, Town! I was there practically everyday nung Third at Fourth year.

Astig ba ang stay mo sa zobel?
The absolute best :D

Natatandaan mo pa ba alma mater nyo?
Of course. I haven't even memorized Ateneo's alma mater. Haha.

One word to describe life in zobel?
Sabaw.

And There Was Much Wailing and Gnashing of Teeth (Over a False Alarm)

2006-05-18T19:38:00.000+08:00

Some asshole deleted my Multiply account. Just when I was starting to update it regularly.

FUCK YOU WHOEVER YOU ARE.

EDIT: Okay, I guess Multiply just had some technical difficulty. My site's back online - http://jjoson.multiply.com. Sorry for the trouble :)

I Fucking Hate Tuesdays

2006-05-09T15:58:00.001+08:00

I got home this morning at three in the morning from the grand opening of my friend David's bar - The Breakfast Club - in BF Homes. For a Monday night, last night seriously was a hoot. Personally, I didn't find the bands appealing to my taste because they all played senti crap. Enough of that for me, right? It was the company and the booze that really made my night. Practically all the people from the Cebu trip (except... hmmm.) and the Baguio trip (except Yenee! Sayang!) were there, plus all three of my future roommates.

After three beers, a glass of the famous kamikaze that downed Uli the previous night, and at least 15 test tubes of Jagermeister (I lost count soon after), I was my usual drunk-but-not-wasted-self, flitting between people with my camera in hand and a stupid grin on my face, taking pictures and bugging people left and right. An hour or so before I left, the DJ started playing old school house anthems from our time - Blue, Side by Side, some Daft Punk - and all my friends were wasted enough to go dancing up front. Haha.

To cut a long story short, I brought a wasted Miguel and a sobering-up Aya home, and got home at almost three in the morning. I couldn't take a shower, brush my teeth, nor take the hair gum out of my hair because the water was dead, so I just gargled a few mouthfuls of mouthwash and jumped into bed.

Check out my Multiply site for the pictures.

* * *

My dad literally pulled me out of bed at five this morning. Yes, I only had two hours of sleep, and I was still at least an eighth full of alcohol. I took an extra long shower to get the smell of smoke and alcohol off my body, shampooing thrice to get it out of my hair, and brushed my teeth twice.

As usual, I was running pretty late for work, so I gunned the Starex on the Skyway, hitting a top speed of 150 kph. I kid you not folks; I should've taken a picture. Can I just say, SuperStarex? Haha. Okay, that sucked.

I got to the office ten minutes late, as usual, and was surprised to see that all my officemates were absent. My two bosses were out of the country, my junior boss was at the Pasig plant, and the assistant was at some counselling meeting in Quezon City. I got a relatively big amount of work done in the first two hours of work, but then I got an epiphany.

All my bosses were out. I wasn't accountable to anyone, so how about I cut work and go somewhere else for "lunch". Okay, that didn't sound like me (the way I said it, not the cutting part). After a few SMSes sent here and there, I figured that I could meet up with Anna and Sinta in UP for a bit of lunch.

* * *

As I was about to leave the office, I discovered that my temporary company ID was missing, probably dropped on one of the many trips I had made to the comfort room to relieve my rather massive hangover. I had to do something about it; if I didn't have an ID I wouldn't get back into the office later that afternoon, and I wouldn't be able to claim my school ID at the guard's. So there - I shelled out seventy-five pesos for a new ID, a total rip-off in my opinion, and scrambled across the street to my car.

Just two minutes away from the office, at some intersection between some godforsaken eskinita and Quirino Avenue Extension, I happened to run a rather misplaced traffic light that was on red. And just my luck - a proud member of Manila's Finest (that's what they call themselves on their squad cars, I kid you not) was just a few meters down the street to see my injunction. He flagged me down, promptly confiscated my license and issued me a ticket, and ignored all of my pleas to let-me-off-just-this-time-I'm-not-from-Manila-I'm-sorry-is-there-any-way-I-could-make-for-it, told me to haul my ass to City Hall within three days, and sent me off. Finally, an upright policeman! (And it's not like I had any cash left to pay the kotong.)

And it gets worse - off I am driving carefully and slowly along Quirino Avenue, now devoid of my pink driver's license, looking for a U-Turn slot so I could head to Espana Street, and eventually to Quezon City. I positioned myself on the left side, like a normal driver would, watching out for the tell-tale hole-in-the-divider without a "No U-Turn" sign beside it. Gil Puyat? Nope. Osmena Highway? Nope. The traffic light was green, and cars were turning left to head back to SLEX, so I shifted lanes towards the right to give way and head straight along Quirino. And there - a butch woman in MMDA blue flagged me down and proceeded to give me a ticket for swerving, less than two minutes after the Manila Police caught me. Apparently you can only go straight on Quirino on the lanes over which the full green lights shine, not the ones with green arrows. I didn't know that.

As soon as I pull down my window to talk to the officer, I start whining ad misericordiam to appeal to the motherly instincts of this unseemingly feminine creature. "Miss sige na, kaka-two minutes pa lang kakahuli ko lang doon sa kanto. Hindi po ako taga-Maynila, hinahanap ko lang ang Espana para mabisita ko long-lost friends ko. Sige na po maawa kayo, hindi ko po sinasadya." And it worked! Gullible bitch. Bwahahaha.

With a surprisingly strong slap on my shoulder and a rather obscure set of directions, she sets me off on my way to the now-elusive Quezon City.

(TO BE CONTINUED WHEN I GET HOME; I JUST LEFT WORK)

At Last (Part 2)

2006-05-07T22:53:00.000+08:00

A clearer version of the Biyahe Tayo video is up on my Multiply site. Wait, any idea why I can't click on it? I mean, there's no thumbnail and no link. :O

And here's a new video of Light My Candle, starring Anna and Julian as Roger and Mimi, with Mikki, Miguel, and Sol as furniture. The quality's still not as good as it should be, the frame rate's too low, and the audio and video aren't synchronized. (Can anyone please tell me what the best CODEC for uploading to YouTube is? I use XVid. What do you use?)

Enjoy :)

Stress

2006-05-05T15:08:00.000+08:00

The past two days have been pretty bad (or unlucky, depending on the way you look at it), but I've been trying to be positive about it.

But today I snapped. I found out something last night which I honestly don't know what to make of, and I was stuck in traffic for two hours at high noon today, and my NBI clearance still isn't done.

I am pissed :(

At Last

2006-05-03T23:46:00.000+08:00

And here's the first of the many videos we shot.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iIbAbul3Ae0

Enjoy :) I know you will.

Grit

2006-05-03T19:57:00.000+08:00

I tried working out this afternoon after work. I was pathetic. I breezed through a couple of sets of free weights and push-ups (both of which I actually enjoy doing) and tolerated a few hundred crunches, but when I got to the treadmill I stopped after just twelve minutes, gasping for air like a drowning dog. I hate cardio.

Last summer, I got to my five-year low in terms of weight. I didn't smoke, I drank a fraction of what I do now, and I had the absolute best gym partner a guy could ever ask for. And well, not to mention, I was happy. The happiest I've ever been, actually.

Now, I'm twenty-five pounds heavier, a chain smoker and borderline alcoholic, suffering from the occasional munchies when I can't control myself, and I'm alone.

But then again, I need to lose weight if I want to get my self-esteem back. And I want that, more than ever, because I know getting it back will get me one step closer to being happy again, at least superficially. So there, I'm going to do this. I'm going to lose weight, and I know that this is possibly going to be the hardest thing I'm ever going to do, having been chunky all my life.

And I'm going to do this alone. Because if I do, I know I can do anything else I put my mind to. Armed with my protein shakes, my metabolic enhancers, and my lifetime gym membership,
I'm going to get my body back (Remember me back in high school? Roar.)

It's time to try
Defying gravity

(Yep, I actually posted a song on my blog. It inspires me.)

Interesting

2006-05-02T11:18:00.000+08:00

This site is very interesting.

Again, this is the traveller in me talking.

Here are my favorites:

8. Barman's Knock
Hypothesis: Find the area's best drinking spots (and drinks) by following the advice of a local expert.
Apparatus: Dutch courage; a map and a friendly face may also be of use.
Method: Go to your favourite pub and order your favourite drink. Ask the barperson where their favourite pub is and what they drink there. Go there and order their recommended drink, and then repeat the exercise with whoever serves you, and so on.
Note: participants would be well advised not to attempt this experiment on an empty stomach, nor to repeat it ad nauseam.

17. Ero Tourism
Hypothesis: Discover a city while looking for love.
Apparatus: A partner (lover or friend) and a destination.
Method: Arrange to take a holiday with your partner. Travel there separately by different means and don't arrange a meeting time or place. Now look for each other...

Random Realizations # 3 (Which Aren't Quite Realizations After All)

2006-05-02T08:12:00.001+08:00

Some five years ago, my sister told me something I could never forget.

My family had just gone out from Sunday Mass at Bene, and were just waiting for my dad to bring the car around so we could head home. The sky was clear that night (as it usually was), so my siblings and I spent quite a while staring up at it (as we usually do).

The yellow crescent moon was just rising, surrounded by a plethora of stars.

"Kuya, kuya," my sister said. "Look, the moon is smiling."

* * *

I just came back from a four-day adventure in Baguio. Bitin as it was, I totally loved it. I can't wait to go back.

Once again, a thousand thank-yous to the Oposa family for their unbounded hospitality, the mouth-watering food, and the kabag-inducing laughs. Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU! (And 997 more.)

* * *

For the past three weeks (except when I was out of town) I have, without fail, gone to Starbucks every single day. Yes, this also means I usually head straight to the mall after work. I just can't stand being at home, you see, and for several reasons - boredom being the foremost one.

What exactly do I do in such a burgis coffee shop, you may ask. Well, I sometimes order a cup of peppermint tea (the cheapest decent drink available); other times I just find myself a vacant table, counting on the familiarity of being a regular customer. And then I'd spend the rest of the afternoon or evening devouring a good book, browsing through a couple of magazines, or writing (some stuff for this blog, and some better left unpublished). But when there aren't books to read, or no work to do, or nothing worth writing about, I just sit there for hours and watch people. And yes, I do most of this alone. Utterly alone.

I know it usually makes me look like a total loser. But damn, there's just nothing else to do. And honestly, I'm getting quite sick of it already. Same goes for watching movies alone, spending hours curled up in bed alone reading a book I've already read five times previously, and walking/driving around Ayala Alabang, Alabang Hills, or my village alone.

I want something new. Save me.

* * *

I was driving home from Arun's band's supposed gig in Malate a few nights back, and somehow managed to find myself lost in the CCP and Binondo areas of Manila. But then again, if you know me, you'd know that I actually look forward to getting lost once in a while.

Manila fascinates me. How many souls have grown up, come of age, and met their end in the past few hundred years that this city has been in existence? How many millions of people have fallen in love, kissed, had their hearts broken, gotten drunk, gotten high, gotten laid, cried, laughed, and found themselves lost (both literally and in thought) in this place we know as Old Manila? Manila has bred drunkards, poets, heroes, and millionaires, as well as millions of people who died unfulfilled without attaining any of their dreams. Tragic, really.

Personally, Manila has been host to some of the memories I treasure (and will treasure) the most. Unfortunately, like all big cities do, Manila does not remember. The flashing lights keep pulsating, the cars keep rushing by, and the throng of partygoers keeps grinding. It really is time for me to leave Manila behind now, at least for the time being.

* * *

I've been meaning to write a long entry about traveling for the longest time now, but I have never gotten around to even writing a draft in my head because I don't think I know what I want to say. That's why I'm writing this part of this entry off the top of my head.

I have wanderlust.

I love travelling and getting lost. I love travelling alone, travelling with my family, travelling with old friends, and travelling with new ones. I don't know why.

Okay, I do. Travelling, drinking, and all the other stuff I enjoy doing - they're forms of escaping. They allow me to escape from an imperfect, un-ideal state of being. They keep my mind off things.

But every trip (both literal and metaphorical, if you get my drift) has to end. I have to wake up at home in a stifling environment, in a course I loathe, not knowing what I want to do. So there.

Malabo, I know.

* * *

The moon is smiling tonight.

Drool

2006-04-26T18:04:00.000+08:00

I left work early today so I could rush home and watch American Idol. Haha. I know you would too. I was caught up in a tad bit of traffic so I got to the Sucat SLEX exit at about 5 PM already.

When I was two minutes away from home, Anna texted me:

I jst fell in l0ve with katharine even m0re. U wil die.

I floored the gas, scrambled over the fence (okay, just a figure of speech), ran up the stairs and struggled to turn on the stupid TV.

And I saw her. And I died. Even it was just the last five seconds of the show before the commercial break. I just simply died.

I watched the rest of the show (Elliot was good!) just to get to see the recap.

And I saw her. And I died a violent death. My jaw dropped and I literally drooled. Why, oh why, Katharine McPhee, do you have to be like that?

Okay, I will go download the episode torrent now. ktnx.

* * *

On a totally unrelated note, check this out. I found it interesting.

Mourning Period's Over

2006-04-26T08:39:00.000+08:00

(Actually, Cebu pa lang I was muttering to myself that the mourning period should be over. But it's only now that I'm actually starting to feel it.)

I've never felt this free and hopeful before.

I hope this eventually ends in something actually worth hoping for.

At the very least, I hope this feeling lasts long. Sawa na ako sa dating gawi.

Random Realizations # 2 (and My First Day on the Job)

2006-04-24T22:34:00.001+08:00

Okay, I got home from an inuman at 1 A.M. last night in a very... lonely, I guess... mood. But it was all good. The sucky thing was that I couldn't get myself to sleep. I read a book for a couple of hours, then lay awake and thought about stuff. I finally got to sleep at around 4 A.M. And I dreamt.

* * *

Sometimes all it takes for a person to spend years hoping is just one little phrase, like, You know what, I have this feeling that no matter what happens to us after this, we're still going to get together in the end. Even if you know the other person probably didn't mean it.

But what if she did? What if it can still happen again?

This sucks.

* * *

I had to wake up at 5:30 because it was the first day of my internship at Unilever, and I had to be at the office before 7:30. So yeah, I only got an hour or so of sleep and I had a tad bit of a hangover while driving to work.

* * *

Oh, and I changed the title of my blog. My head doesn't hurt as much anymore, thank heavens. So I just changed the title to something that states the obvious.

* * *

Contrary to what I said earlier, I wasn't placed in the marketing department to be a brand management intern. I was placed in a small department in the middle of Finance/Accounting and IT called W.C.E. (which means World Class Excellence, I kid you not; and the head of the W.C.E. department is called the Champion, as in World Class Excellence - Champion). As part of the W.C.E. department, I was placed in E.C.R. (which means Efficient Consumer Response), which I still don't understand completely. Acronyms galore, whoopeedoo.

It's some kind of in-house consultancy team that troubleshoots the different problems of the organization. Langiya ang daming trabaho. I have to go around the whole compound looking for the different components of the team (marketing managers, supply chain staff, accounting and finance people, and HR managers), collect data from them, and bug them to do their work. I have to make dozens of phone calls a day to different line managers. And at the end of my internship, I have to construct five bulletin boards (yes, you read me right - bulletin boards, dear Lord, have they ever heard of a website?) that would serve to monitor all the different projects by showing their monthly Key Performance Indicators (KPIs).

* * *

An illustration of corporate life:

During the latter period of the one-hour lunch break, some of my older officemates find it convenient to take 20-minute powernaps in their seats. I was just playing Solitaire on my laptop to pass the time, when a man from a nearby cubicle lets out a snore that would make Darth Vader proud.

True to the dehumanizing nature of cubicles, every single person in a 10-cubicle radius around the culprit stands up, stretches his/her neck like an ostrich, and clucks in disagreement.

Now I know how Dilbert feels. After just a single day.

* * *

Contrary to my earlier misconceptions of corporate life, it actually is kind of fun, in a sadomasochistic way. I get so much work piled up that I totally forget about everything else (which, if you know me, is actually good), and I mean everything. At this rate, if I find myself in the corporate world after graduation, I'll probably end up an overworked, stressed-out bachelor who dies of a heart attack at the age of 40.

Oh, and I get laptop privileges too. Haha. And a cubicle of my own, complete with a phone line and an e-mail address. And there's no dress code, so people go to work in casual attire every day.

And did I mention the women? Oh my Lord, chinitas, chinitas, everywhere. Do-able 20-something chinitas everywhere! AHHHH I'm in heaven. Sigh.

* * *

After an hour or so of lounging around in the reception area/lobby, my high school classmate Jude (who's in Customer Development) goes up to me and says, Chong, butas kili-kili mo.

That was my lucky pink collared shirt, dammit. The whole day I was eating, typing, and shaking hands with my upper arm stuck to my chest, lest I show my hairy armpit to the world on my corporate debut.

* * *

I wonder how I'm going to feel when all the novelty wears off. Disillusioned and disenchanted and depressed? Hopefully not. Burnt out and alone? Probably.

I am officially going through my quarter-life crisis. Care to keep me company?

* * *

I'm the type of person who can't move on without fixing problems. That's the way I am. I can never leave anything hanging, or half-done, or un-optimal.

I need to fix situations and mistakes first before I can fix myself.

That's the way I am. Please understand.

* * *

Deep down, though, I just want to be happy again.

You have no freakin' idea just how much.

Random Realizations # 1

2006-04-20T18:09:00.000+08:00

I’ve been to Palawan, Cebu, and a mass for a dead friend recently. And yeah, I’ve been doing a lot of alone time at home too. And as usual, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. Here are some of the weird things I’ve been thinking of. Okay, they’re not really that weird, I guess, just a little deeper and personal than usual.

This is going to be the first of a hopefully long series of random realizations I’m going to start posting on my blog (hence the rather unimaginative title).

* * *

My memories of high school are nothing but a black-and-white blur of stargazing sessions in Cuenca park, late-night practices for yearly inter-batch plays, LSYC retreats, phone conversations, and jam sessions. Hell, I don’t even practically remember anything that happened before Third Year anymore, which is really sad, considering that – in hindsight – that was the happier period of my life (Ignorance really IS bliss. So is idealism. They go hand-in-hand. Go figure.)

It kind of makes me wonder whether longing to get to college back then was all worth it. I mean, I was counting down the days to my graduation as early as Second Year. I thought that college would be this whole grand adventure where everything would be ideal, and fun, and perfect. Guess not.

* * *

College, on the other hand, has been a colorful montage of caffeine-infused cram sessions, drunken reverie, horrendous and impossible exams, evening swims with friends, and early morning convenience store binges after sweat-drenched parties.

But has it lived up to my expectations of it back in high school? Has it been worth the countdown and the long wait? Hell no. I’m sure you’d agree.

* * *

I, quite unfortunately, have picked the wrong course to get into. I should’ve shifted out back in first year, when I still could’ve. Sure, Management Engineering is the course where probably some of the smartest people in Ateneo are, but let’s take it for what it is – a fast track to climbing the local corporate ladder, a way to guarantee your ass a seat in a cubicle somewhere in Makati or Ortigas. This, as you probably can infer, dear reader, is just not my thing. I know it’s what some people consider the ultimate exemplar of Third-World financial security, but I’m sorry, that kind of life’s just not for me. I need to keep doing something new every few years; if not I’m going to die of sheer boredom.

A friend in my course came up to me towards the end of last semester and told me that he and some of my other friends felt really sorry for me. Sayang, he said, kasi alam kong ‘pag nasa Comm ka, tangina makaka-summa cum laude ka pa sana. Hindi ka talaga masaya sa ME no? My thoughts exactly. I have another friend in AB Comm who told me that I was actually more suited to Comm than he was. Beat that.

But yeah, it’s no use wallowing in regret, I guess.

* * *

What exactly do I want to be then?

For a time, I really, deeply wanted to be a high school teacher. I figured that I could teach Economics, Philosophy, or Math back in Zobel. I’m not really after the money, you see; I mean, I think I could easily handle a few businesses on the side to raise enough money to fund my luxuries – you know, to buy a nice European car, get to travel once a year, stuff like that. And I figured, I’d rather be a teacher and do something with some substance, you know - give the kids of the next generation something to chew on, give them renewed hope in the country, and maybe even erase the prevalent anti-poor, let’s-go-migrate-to-North-America-instead mentality, that kind of stuff. Pretty idealistic, huh? But then again, you probably already know that I’m like that.

But I don’t want to teach anymore. Let’s just say something happened that completely destroyed my perception of what I once believed to be such a noble profession. I’ll just leave it at that okay? It hurts. ktnx.

Now, I still don’t know what the hell I want to do after college. Okay, I do – I want to be like Ian-fucking-Wright (of Lonely Planet fame). Hell, that would be my dream job, getting paid to travel around the world, meeting tons of people, filming documentaries, and experiencing new cultures and learning new languages. Asa pa, chong. Never in my wildest dreams could I do that for a living; I’d be losing stuff wherever I go, forgetting to renew my passports and visas, and losing my way half the time, not to mention squandering half my money on useless shopping trips in God-knows-what-country-I-am-now. And, well, it would surely get kind of lonely doing that, huh?

So I guess I’m just stuck doing what my course trains people to do – climb the corporate ladder for a decade or two, get a hefty retirement bonus, buy a luxury car or four, buy a house in a certain high-end village in the South, settle comfortably into a retiree-cum-golf-dad lifestyle, and spend my afternoons writing my memoirs in coffee shops (which, if you come to think of it, is already exactly what I’m doing now).

* * *

I sure love enumerating stuff, huh? Commas, semicolons, and dashes galore, not to mention lots of subordinate clauses and parenthetical digressions. Deal with it, that’s the way I speak. Really – when I’m not mumbling incoherent bullshit, at least.

And yes, I’m cynical, bitter, and insecure. I’m like that. Try having all the girls you’ve cared about leave you for other men.

* * *

My next girlfriend had better love to travel, considering that I fly out to different places at least six times a year. Seriously. She’d better be up for spending whole afternoons walking around malls/commercial areas/what-have-you in exotic cities without necessarily buying anything; she’d better be game for spur-of-the-moment adventures, both big and small, in airports, train stations, ports, and bus terminals to random locations.

Okay, it doesn’t even have to be that expensive – I’m talking about spontaneous road trips to Tagaytay to watch the sun rise, or to Antipolo to gaze out on the city and the setting sun over a few drinks, or even just early evening walks around Ateneo to stargaze or watch people. Stuff like that. Yeah, I know I’m a pretty shallow person, but I just have to keep moving, experiencing new stuff. There’s just so much to see, so little time to do it.

Oh well, where are you? Haha. Hurry up and fix me. Please.

* * *

Whatever happened to,

I can give a thousand reasons
I can live a thousand lives
I know that I will always meet you
Underneath a summer sky

?

You tell me.

* * *

People seldom remember their first relationships. They’re always the ones that have to end, of the kind you get into knowing that someone better will always come along to make you forget all about it and make you believe it was nothing more than puppy love. There’s always going to be another person who’s going to come along and sweep you off your feet, and in the process make you think that your first was nothing more than an immature prick that you’re going to laugh about with your new lover. And yeah, you’re not going to remember much of that first relationship too, except for a few memorable good moments and a ton of mistakes.

Ergo, it sucks to be someone’s first boyfriend. Especially if you didn’t treat her like your first.

* * *

I was at Ponti last night. Tanginang Azzuri yan.

Oh, and Happy 420. If you know what I mean.

* * *

I’m graduating again this year, for what might be the last time in my life. My academic load is hopefully going to be relatively lighter than last year’s, so this only means one thing.

I’m going to party my poor little heart out this year.

Good News

2006-04-19T12:27:00.000+08:00

i.

I found my iPod :) It turns out that a maid got it, and not the electrician. Needless to say, my household's less one maid.

ii.

I retained my scholarship :) My grades aren't that high, but I don't really freaking care anymore.

I texted my dad once I found out about my grades:

Me: Dad, I maintained my scholarship!
Dad: YEHEy! Thank God.

I kid you not. That was the only time I've heard him say anything like YEHEY.

iii.

And because I got to save my parents at least a hundred thousand bucks, I just might be headed to New York at the end of summer for a couple of weeks to accompany my dad for a business trip. :) :) :)

RENT, HERE I COME. HAHAHA.

But I admit that the trip's getting less and less feasible by the day. Oh well.

iv.

I finally have a sure summer internship. FYI, I turned down finance positions in GlaxoSmithKline (P500 a day) and Credit Suisse (P900 a day; WTF) just because I didn't feel like going into finance. Muchos huevos, eh? Balls of steel, baby.

But I'm going to be an assistant brand manager directly under a senior brand manager for Unilever. How freaking cool is that?

v.

And strangely enough, I'm actually enjoying my summer, different as it may be from summers of recent past. If I don't think about stuff, at least.

Escape (Part 1)

2006-04-16T10:53:00.000+08:00

i. Amazing Race

I just woke up. I've been sleeping for over sixteen hours since I got home from Cebu yesterday afternoon. The trip home was crazy - you see, everyone else went home one day earlier (Good Friday), while I was set to go home on Black Saturday due to my booking my plane tickets separately from everyone else. This meant that I had to find my way, on my own, from Bantayan Island (where we were staying) to the airport in Mactan before 2 PM that afternoon.

7:30 AM - I woke up from a night of partying from which I got home at around 4:30 AM. I packed my bags in an hour's time, took a bath and brushed my teeth, ate breakfast, and said my farewells and thank-yous to the caretakers of the house.

8:30 AM - I took a pedicab to the pier, bought a second-class (aircon) ticket on the RORO ferry headed to Hagnaya port, planted my ass on the sticky leather seat, and slept.

10:00 AM - I woke up, walked out onto the dusty pier and into the oppressive heat, and tried to get on a vehicle to get me back to Cebu City. The first two V-Hires (10-seater vans that function much like FXs back in Manila) that came along were swarmed by people wanting to get home, and left practically five minutes after arriving. No vehicles came along for another 30 minutes, so I was left sweltering in the heat with a group of people who only understood a bit of Tagalog and English. Dili ko kasabot (did I spell it right?) apparently goes a long way; it was practically the only thing I was saying, actually. Hehe. Good thing I met this group of college students who I could actually talk with and ask directions from. A Ceres Liner (a big non-aircon bus) came along at around 10:30, and a hundred people (I kid you not) rushed it from all directions trying to get aboard using two small doors. There were kids, the elderly, and a shitload of smelly men all pushing, pulling, and shoving to get onboard; I tried unsuccessfully (with my two huge daypacks and my water bag) to grab hold of the door railing to pull myself onto the bus, but someone always managed to pull it away.

10:30 AM - Another Ceres Liner came along, and the same thing happened. This time I managed to be one of the first ones to grab on to the railing and consequently managed to secure a seat by paying some porter cum seat-grabber 20 pesos.

10:41 AM - Yes, at exactly 10:41, the bus set off for Cebu City. What's ironic was that an aircon Ceres Liner pulled up just as we were about to leave. Damn. Anyway, the fare was 50 pesos. I was seated beside a man in his late 30s wearing a blue and white jacket with "Ermil's Dried Fish Business" written on it. A few meters ahead of me, seated right behind the driver and staring at me the whole time, was a dirty-looking native gay guy wearing bubuyog shades. Right beside me, squeezed into the aisle, was a 15-year old fat girl trying hard to dress like a Sex Bomb Girl (before you go on about how unchivalrous I was for not offering her my seat, please note that I couldn't even stand up, and that I hadn't had enough sleep yet); right in front of her was her mom, who apparently inspired her outfit. Damn, right? Just goes to prove that public transport is crazy no matter where you go in the Philippines. I was so freaking tired so I just fell asleep for most of the trip, waking up every once in a while to see the gay guy staring at me.

2:00 PM - We arrived at SM Cebu, the final stop of the bus. I scrambled off the bus and ran to the terminal to get a cab. The taxi driver kept speaking to me in Cebuano until I managed to get off a Dili ko kasabot, Tagalog lang! and then he continued his stories in Tagalog, punctuating his sentences with short spits of phlegm flying out the window.

2:18 PM - I arrived at the airport, checked in my luggage, and with 30 minutes to spare before boarding, figured that I could spare a couple of minutes for a cookie, a white chocolate mocha, and a cig at the airport's Bo's Coffee Club. They didn't accept credit, so I was forced to pay cash. BAD MOVE JONAT. The terminal fee was 200 pesos, and I only had a hundred pesos left in my wallet. All my remaining cash was checked in along with my bags. I then had to run out of the domestic departure gates, sprint all the way to the BPI ATM in the international departure area, and sprint all the way back. By the time I got back to the airport they were issuing a last call for PR858 headed for Manila. Haha. I got aboard just in time.

3:00 PM - I got on the plane, and got seated beside two nouveau middle-class (not even nouveau rich or old middle-class, take note) women who grabbed my window seat. They kept staring at me, grimy from my five-hour commute across Cebu, and kept whispering to each other about the dirty, unshaven guy beside them. I hated it. Oh, and Kris Aquino, James Yap, and entourage were on the plane with me. She was loud and funny.

4:10 PM - The plane touched down in Manila, got fetched, got home, and slept.

That was actually kind of fun. I felt like a genuine backpacker, with my North Face daypack, my un-knowledge of the local dialect, and the sense of urgency. Haha. I can't wait to really backpack in Europe when I graduate. If only I had the money...

(To be Continued)

Dot Dot Dot

2006-03-30T21:14:00.000+08:00

I.

Did it ever happen to you when you just know you smell something in the air? It's something like the earthy smell in the air when it's just about to rain.

I smell change.

II.

The usually barren tree outside my bedroom window sprouted with leaves after the sudden downpour today. I didn't know leaves could grow that quickly.

It felt nice seeing that.

III.

I went to the Alabang Hills clubhouse a few days ago to buy cigarettes, and decided to head to a nearby park to smoke the first stick (and well, reminisce).

After a few puffs, a dog (it wasn't a stray; it had a collar on) went up to me and looked up at me asking to be given a rubdown. It was a beautiful brown dog, probably at least 3/4 greyhound or some other sighthound, and it didn't show any signs of aggression at all. Probably the friendliest dog I've ever met.

After a few minutes of sitting with the dog, two kids - a boy and a girl, unrelated, probably age six or seven - went up to me while I was looking at the dog. The boy asked me if the dog was mine, and what its name was. I said it wasn't mine, and he didn't seem to be satisfied with my answer. The dog took this chance to take a shit in some high grass, so I told the kid that his name was Poo. Okay, that was stupid.

Smoking in front of young kids made me feel really guilty about myself, so I excused myself and went to another part of the park. I could still overhear the boy and the girl talking:

Boy: Are you Chinese?
Girl: No I'm not.
Boy: You look Chinese.
Girl: No, I don't. You look like a dog.
Boy: No I don't.

I deduced that these kids were neighbours or something. They'd make a pretty cute couple when they grow up. Haha. The boy suddenly ran off because he saw his driver coming along with a chowchow puppy on a leash. The boy grabbed the leash and played with the dog for the rest of the afternoon. I love kids. I love dogs.

IV.

Katharine McPhee was in the Bottom Two today. That had me and my sister screaming, biting throw pillows, and pumping our fists in the air for at least five minutes.

And here's the requisite Katharine McPhee picture for this post.
Isn't she lovely, yes?

V.

I'm off to Palawan tomorrow. Farewell, farewell.

First of Summer

2006-03-22T22:06:00.000+08:00

... and with that title I officially join the probably dozens of Filipino bloggers who have begun their summer vacations.

Now, the problem is, I don't feel anything. I'm not in a celebratory mood, I'm not elated, I'm not happy, heck, I'm not even relieved that things are over.

Yes, the worst ten months of my entire life just ended, and I still don't feel like I'm on my way out of the shit hole.

My scholarship for next year's hit-or-miss now.

I shall edit tomorrow.

Thanks.

In Which He Writes About Her

2006-03-19T20:22:00.000+08:00

To make up for an utterly depressing week (in which I lost my iPod and saw how dismally low my grades were), I was all set to get rip-roaring-drunk at the Urbandub/Up Dharma Down gig last night. I was planning for the whole night to just be about me, my few remaining true friends, my beers, and the heavenly noise of Urbandub’s music.

And so my friends and I got ourselves the best seats in the house - the bar stools in front of the stage, right in front of the drums. I was happily on my way to drunken un-feelingness by the middle of Paramita’s set, when a mutual friend of ours told me: Dude, your ex is here.

And I saw you a couple of minutes later.

That, honestly, totally ruined my alcohol/music trip.

You see, I’ve been trying (in vain, obviously) since the start of the year to pretend that you didn’t exist. I’ve been doing everything to not think about you, to just try to forget about you, to even try to hate you, but I just can’t bring myself to. I simply can’t. You still occupy most of my waking thoughts, and after eight months I still dream of you once or twice a week (and yes, I know I shouldn’t have said that because it makes me look like an obsessed dork, but what the hell).

And then I saw you last night, for the first time in two months, and for only the tenth or twelfth time since we broke up. That officially ruined the rest of my week. Don’t get me wrong – my heart leapt when I saw you – but it’s just that I become really depressed when I see you, and I don’t quite exactly know why.

Maybe it’s because I just don’t how to act around you anymore. I mean, if I were the old me, I’d run up to you and flirt with you like a complete ass until it was time for you to leave; then I’d call you up at home and flirt with you even more. But yes, I know, this was years ago, back before we had gotten together, before we had the time of our lives (or at least that’s what I’d like to think; but then again that only probably applies to me), and before we then had a break-up worthy of making into a movie; things are different now, I’m aware of that much too clearly. As much as I wanted to talk to you last night – hell, even just to say hi – I can’t, because I’m scared. I’m scared of once again appearing like a complete jerk in front of you; I’m scared of actually becoming the crazy, maniacal guy you perceive me to be. I’m afraid of saying and doing the wrong things, of appearing like a complete asshole once again and lowering your perception of me more, and of making you hate me even more. All in all, I guess I’m scared that I can’t be myself around you anymore.

But honestly, all I want to be is the guy you fell in love with again. I want you to see me for the real me, the guy who I’m struggling to be again - I want to be the one who you’d miss; I want to be the one who you’d tell all your crazy, weird stories to on the phone; I want to be there for you, to listen to you, to protect you, and to kiss you good night. But you told me, so many months ago, that you’re happier without me, and well – I can’t beat that. And as much as I want to be friends with you because maybe that way I can make you fall for me again, or at the very least be able to make you smile – we can’t, because as you said, we were never just friends anyway.

And yes, I know, you tell me all the time that I should just accept things as they are and move on. But the fact is, I've already accepted what has happened months ago. It's the dealing-with-it part that I have problems with.

And so I just sat there, ordered another beer, lit another cigarette, and I remembered you. And yes, I was the one who kept bugging Urbandub to play Quiet Poetic, and I was the one who screamed the loudest when they finally played it.

That one was for you. I hope you were still there to hear it. And I hope, that even for just a few moments, you found yourself thinking of me - ten or so meters away - thinking of you. And well, if you didn’t, because you seem to have forgotten all of two years, I’ll do your share of remembering for you.

And lastly, because I promised myself when I put my blog back up that I’d do my best not to write about you again – screw that, just this once – I’ll make the most of this entry.

Here’s something you’ve read before; as you know, it’s an entry I left unpublished in my old blog:

IN WHICH HE MISSES HER

i miss her.

i miss the long walks we used to take in her village, and how we'd just talk and laugh and talk and laugh.

i miss blowing and making fart sounds on her tummy.

i miss the way she held my hand - like it belonged nowhere else but there - and the way she scratched the underneath of my palm.

i miss her, and the way she found silly things to be fascinating, like bugs she found in her dad's salad, or the how she'd chase stupid kittens around when we came across them while walking.

i miss the way she scratched the hair on my tummy.

i miss just staring at her - i could've done that for days at a time, if she had let me. that's how beautiful she was. hers was a beauty that was unlike anything i'd ever seen or experienced. it was far beyond being just pretty, lightyears beyond, even. it was the type of beauty that made you feel lonely - the type that created that deep gnawing feeling just where your ribs met your tummy, the type that made you think of sunsets, and of the sea, and of the happy moments of your childhood. it made you lonely, because you know you had to stop looking at her at some point.

i miss staring into her eyes, and the naughty twinkle they had in them, like she knew something that you didn't.

i miss her nose, and how soft it was when she let me play with it, and i miss giving her eskimo kisses.

i miss her smile, and how the mere sight of it made my heart skip a beat (it always did, up to the last time that i saw her, and everytime i'm lucky enough to glimpse it,) and the way it never failed to make feel better after a sucky day.

i miss her lips, and the way they're always so soft and yummy when she puts on her lip balm.

but mostly i just miss her, and the long talks we used to have about our dreams, our futures, and ourselves. i miss our meaningful silences, and the times she’d let me lie on her lap, there on our bench in the park, staring at the stars. i miss going home to her, and the thought of going home to her.

it's all over now, and it will never happen again, but the simple fact remains:

i miss her. god, i miss her.

On a Lost iPod and a New Pair of Glasses

2006-03-19T16:14:00.000+08:00

i. Lost

Yes, I lost my iPod.

I was on my way to school yesterday to attend the Mkt 101 competition. My dad told me to burn him a DVD of episodes 204, 205, and 206 of Lost, so I transferred them to my Nano (the computer at home has broadband, while the one in Quezon City has the DVD-writer; yeah, it's pretty inconvenient, I know). Now, I placed my school bag, my Philo 102 book, my Nano, and the earphones in the back seat of the Pajero. An electrician was fixing something at home and asked if he could hitch a ride to Sucat, so there, he got into the back seat. He placed my school bag on the floor, and moved the Philo book and the iPod to the left side of the car/truck/SUV. And so we drop him off at Sucat.

When I got to my condo, I got down from the front seat and opened the back door to get my stuff. To my surprise, only the Philo book and the earphones were there. I asked the driver if he saw my iPod and he said he didn't, that maybe I left it at home. I ransacked the whole house when I got home later that afternoon and couldn't find it.

So there, it's gone, and I'm honestly heartbroken. I don't want to blame the electrician, since he's been working for us for over ten years now, but I don't see any other feasible explanation for my Nano being missing. I've ransacked both the whole house and the Pajero a couple of times, to no avail.

I can say that it's sort of a consolation that I got the iPod for free - my dad's a doctor, you see, and he helped my mom's boss recover from a heart attack last year; said boss gave my dad an iPod for Christmas out of gratitude, but my dad already has an iPod so he gave the Nano to me. But then again, the fact that it's free doesn't really make me feel any better.

As Arun told me just ten minutes ago: if you lost something you bought with your own money, you feel regret; if you lost something that was given to you, you feel as if something or someone close to you died. My sentiments exactly.

And as immature as it may sound, I feel incomplete without the fragile little black thing. It's been an irreplacable part of my daily early morning walks to school, my recent emo trips, and my all-night study sessions.

Is there still hope?

ii. Emo

On a rather happier note, I finally bought myself that pair of black thick-framed glassed (a.k.a. emo glasses) I've been wanting to buy since I started college.

All I need now are black Chucks (check), a ton of black shirts (check), a couple of baston pants (check), a stick-thin build (soon), and an iPod chock-full of depressing songs (lost).

Ha! I'm half-kidding, actually. Me? Emo? Yeah right. I think I'm actually too old to go through that. But then again, I think I have all the right reasons to be depressed.

And there you have it.

Sunrise Entry # 1

2006-03-17T06:07:00.000+08:00

I didn't get any sleep.

Seven shots of espresso did the trick. My pulse rate at around midnight was off the charts. It didn't go down until around three in the morning, just after I finished typing the previous entry, and at which point I decided that I should try getting some sleep.

But I didn't get any sleep at all. I spent the rest of the night tossing and turning in bed, thinking of everything that happened during the school year.

And then I realized - this is what it feels like to not have any direction in life at all. I don't know where I'm headed; I don't know what I want to become; I don't know what or who I am. I don't even feel alive anymore. Yes, my depression's acting up again.

All I do is sleep, eat, study, think, and take tests.

I'm off to beg my seven-thirty class's professor to give me extra consideration since I really just might lose my scholarship this year. Wish me luck.

[UPDATE: My Development Economics standing is much worse than I was expecting. I'm at a low C (2.00). I need a fucking B+ (3.50). God, I've never been this frightened about my grades before. FUCK IT I'M PANICKING. PUTANGINA PUTANGINA. The professor doesn't seem to want to give any consideration, and he doesn't want to give bonus work. I'm seriously fucked.]

And I have a long test at six in the evening, which I'm going to fail miserably. Let's hope that I won't.

[UPDATE: The long test was a give-away. It was supposed to be about queueing theory (how to optimize a queueing model given mean arrival/interarrival times and mean service times, and how many channels are given, if you need to know) but ended up being an exercise in basic probability (Poisson and exponential distributions). And it surely helps that I took the test in an annoyingly perky mood despite thirty hours of non-sleep. Yehey.]

A Realization

2006-03-17T02:34:00.000+08:00

I've been doing a lot of reflecting and reminiscing recently - you know, reading my high school write-ups and palanca letters, browsing through my grade school and high school photo albums and paraphernalia, and going through my Friendster testimonials a couple of times, that kind of stuff - and I realize how different I really am from my perceived and outdated image of myself.

Arun, apparently, seems to be going through a similar phase.

For a start, I don't seem to be the happy-go-lucky, funny, tactless Jonat of yore anymore. I mean, I don't even remember the last time I actually told an honest-to-goodness joke (Chuck Norris facts don't count, okay?). If you knew me back in high school, that statement alone would surprise you; back then, I could make your ears bleed from all the corny jokes I used to tell. And apparently, my Friendster testimonials reveal that I seem to have told a lot of jokes back in first year. I don't know - maybe that aspect of my personality didn't really fit in college life; hence, I was forced to change my persona to something more acceptable.

And I think (confirm this please, dear reader) that I've actually turned into a quiet, reflective person (gasp!). I used to be the type of person who'd have his foot in his mouth fifty percent of the time; now, I actually think before I speak. Not that this is bad in itself - mind you - but I think it has effectively made me a boring, dull boy with no personality whatsoever.

I'm certainly more pessimistic now (which I wouldn't have thought possible a couple of years ago). But then again, aren't we all? Going through a lot of shit did take its toll on my morale. It's not that I actually want to be like this, you know - it just feels like I've lost my ability to believe in myself again.

Ah, yes, I'm rambling again. I seem to be doing a lot of that recently.

The main point of this entry is that I don't seem to know who I am anymore.

[EDIT: Another realization - maybe I just don't have enough opportunities to show my true self anymore. What do you think?]

I'm serious. I'd really appreciate it if you could enlighten me. What kind of persona do I project when I write? If you know me personally, does this persona jive with your understanding of me? Do you even understand me? Have I really changed that much? How much, exactly?

Yes, I am aware that this sounds like an essay question for a literary appreciation class. But I'm dead serious; I'd really appreciate your honest opinion (in other words, HELP).

Thank you.

Disappointment

2006-03-16T10:48:00.000+08:00

I just came from my marketing class (a.k.a. Jaryd's spaghetti and donuts party). The professor gave out the pre-final standings of each student.

The lower limit for a B+ (3.50) is 3.31.

I got a 3.24. I'm just 0.07 away from a B+, fuck it.

The average of all my passed requirements is roughly 3.40. However, my class participation grade is a fucking 2.50. I recite a lot when I'm in class, but apparently I have a lot of cuts and lates.

Fuck morning classes. I absolutely hate them.

I need a fucking 3.50 QPI this sem. I really do. I absolutely am fucking depressed. I hate this. I FEEL SO MEDIOCRE.

I'm going to get myself abso-fucking-lutely drunk this Saturday. I'm apologizing in advance.

Yes, I write like this when I'm depressed.

Full Moon

2006-03-15T21:00:00.000+08:00

i. Tonight

The moon is unbelievably beautiful tonight.

Full moons never fail to make me feel, I don't know, weird. I can't describe how it feels - like you just need to party, go out on a date, go walking... I don't know, just do something. In my case, I'm blogging. Yes, I'm a loser. Kiss me. Haha.

I've been blogging prolifically over the past week, I know. I guess it just shows how much I just need somebody to talk to. If you personally know me, you know how talkative I can become when I'm in the mood to talk - telling weird stories, bashing other people, or ranting about my life. Oh well.

But tonight I'm not really in the mood to talk. I just want to look at the moon with someone. But I can't, so I'm just going to say...

The moon is unbelievably beautiful tonight.

ii. Katharine McPhee

I slept at nine this morning and woke up at six in the evening - just in time for American Idol!

Katharine makes me melt. LITERALLY. I turned to jelly and fell from the sofa while watching her. And I couldn't keep my jaw up.

Okay, when she goes to the Philippines, I'm going to bring a big "Kiss Me Katharine" poster to her performances. Hehehe.

Man, I want a girl like that.

iii. McDonald's

I started craving for Twister Fries right after American Idol, so I walked on over to McDo Katipunan (which, if you give it some thought, is so much like Mount McDo in Alabang; I really miss home...) and got myself a full dinner.

I was kind of low on cash, and I saw that they accepted MasterCard; I figured, what the heck, might as well charge my meal, right? Apparently, they weren't used to people charging their meals, so the cashier got the manager to assist her, and even he wasn't that familiar with the whole system. He ended up not giving me the charge slip, and asked me to sign an official receipt instead. I asked him politely where my copy of the charge slip was, and he became quite exasperated. I said that it was all okay, that he shouldn't bother about it.

He actually ended up wanting to assist me by carrying my tray to my table, but I declined. So he personally replaced one piece of the chicken on my tray with a much bigger one instead.

NOTE TO SELF: Look like a little rich prick when eating at fast food joints.

iv. Nostalgia

I'm currently downloading a whole CD's worth of house anthems from the early 2000s.

I haven't gone out in years. This sucks.

v. Good Night

I don't like this entry. But oh well.

The next one's going to be much better. I'm too incoherent tonight.

Dismay

2006-03-15T09:02:00.000+08:00

I really prepared to study for my Dev Eco long test this morning.

I got thirteen hours of sleep the previous night, ordered my cramming drink - a quad hazelnut white chocolate mocha, non-fat no whipped (and my piss ended up smelling like coffee; okay I shouldn't have said that) - and prepared a kick-ass playlist on iTunes so I could study the whole night. I think you'd agree that I was all-set for a night of cramming, right?

The test was at seven-thirty, so I decided to sacrifice my night's sleep to study for the test. I finished studying around ten minutes before five (after browsing through the study material four times, I should add) and was stuck with a dilemma: I could study for another hour, or I could take an hour-long nap and wake up at six to fix up for the test. I ended up doing the latter, figuring that it would do me good to take the test kind of recharged.

I set my alarm and snuggled up into my usual fetal sleeping position, and ended up falling asleep in twenty-or-so minutes.

I WOKE UP AT SEVEN-FUCKING-FIFTEEN. As usual, I ended up unconsciously putting off my primitive alarm clock (which didn't have a snooze function, obviously) and going back to sleep. I brushed my teeth, splashed water on my face, jumped into the first outfit I could get my hands on (which, it turns out, was the one I wore to my only class yesterday), and ran the half-kilometer to school. I got there just before the bell rang.

So there, I sat down, panting but pretty ready, or so I assumed. The test was an objective essay type, if I could call it that, with four questions at twenty-five points each. I breezed through the first three questions, but got stuck at the last one with barely five minutes to go before the bell rang. I just wrote a load of incoherent bullshit to at least write something.

Argh. I needed to ace this test to get a B+ for my final grade, since I fucked up the first one. And to think this is one of the easiest subjects I'm ever going to take. Why can't I excel in school anymore? I hate it. I really do.

Okay, I'm ranting. Sorry.

That's it.

A Rather Morbid Post

2006-03-14T21:35:00.000+08:00

i. I'm Dying

Yes, I am; aren't we all? I've been having these splitting headaches (yeah, hence the title of the blog) for almost a week now, and my stomach's getting annoyingly acidic by the day. I've been taking two to four Tylenol Extra Strength tablets every day for the headaches, and another two or three Kremil-S tablets daily for the dyspepsia. They aren't fucking working. I hate it.

Argh, the joys of stress. At least there's just one week of school left.

I got thirteen hours of sleep last night; that seems to have alleviated my symptoms temporarily at least - until I got around to actually studying that is - and my head started throbbing and now, shit I'm here writing, hoping that by writing it down I'd get rid of it.

And this is weird considering that I'm actually my lifestyle's relatively quite healthier now. I'm drinking significantly less - I've only gotten drunk once in the past month, I think, and even that wasn't roaring drunk. That's a big achievement considering that I spent most of the school year getting drunk at least twice a week. And I'm smoking quite less too; now I'm down to approximately a pack a day, compared to two packs a day for most of the school year. And yeah - I've been clean (if you get what I mean) for exactly a month now. This calls for a celebration! Hehe. So there, I don't quite understand why I'm feeling like this.

Ah yes, I'm rambling. I can't concentrate because of my damn headache, damn it. And on to the next section we go.

ii. On Death

And since I think I'm dying, I figured that I want to leave a will of sorts before I die. Haha.

Friends, when I die, I want you to dedicate a beer, or a shot, or a pitcher - whatever your poison is - to me every week. And prior to drinking it (bottoms-up, I should say), I want you to say something witty and clever and tearjerking (Or should I say tearjerky? Hehe) about me. For example,

To Jonat, who never really quit despite whining like a horse on coke (and was hung like one too), who loved like there was no tomorrow, and drank like he loved. Amen. Cheers!

Promise me this, okay?

iii. On Aging

I was in SBC just a few hours ago to study for my DevEco finals tomorrow at seven-thirty in the morning. I ordered my usual drink - a quad white chocolate mocha with a shot of raspberry, non-fat and no whipped, if you're curious - and was quite surprised to see the barista stifling a laugh. Apparently SBC's baristas aren't that used to customizing drinks as compared to Starbucks', so I forgave her for finding it funny.

And it certainly helped that the new barista was kind of cute in a weird weird way. On my way back to my table, I found myself feeling sort of weird for getting a crush on a barista. I mean, she was old, right?

Then it hit me - she was, at most, probably only two years older than me.

I'd better get used to being twenty. Watch out for my overdue "Turning Twenty" post.

iv. A Life Project

Oh, and since I'm dying, I'd just like to announce (Ahem.) that I'm starting to write a novel. I kid you not, friends. It's not like I'm going to publish it or anything; I just feel like writing one.

It's going to be about a slightly overweight, very insecure young man who grew up in the 90s, and who lives in the suburbs south of Manila. I hope to finish it just in time for graduation next year.

Yes, I am crazy. I know.

Fifty

2006-03-13T13:37:00.000+08:00

My dad turned fifty a month and a half ago. And it's official - he's undergoing his second childhood.

He went bungee-jumping in New Zealand last month.

And then he went parasailing in Boracay last weekend. I wonder what he's going to do when my family goes to Palawan on the 31st?

What's next? If he goes skydiving anytime soon, I'm going to jump with him. Hehe. And the scary thing is, I hope I black out during free-fall and forget to release the chute. Begone, ye malevolent depressing spirits. Sorry about that.

Sayang

2006-03-12T12:11:00.000+08:00

Floating in the one-more-bottle limbo between sobriety and tipsiness, I saw my friend Chino walk into the sala and tell his friend Eric slowly, nonchalantly:

Eric, Eric, tara labas tayo. Gusto mo makita si Manny Pacquiao?

Eric, in a matter-of-fact tone, says:

Sige ba. Teka dalhin ko beer ko.

And they walk lazily out of the room.

Jake and I, who were lounging on the nearby sofas, looked at each other and said:

Pucha anlakas na ng amats ng mga 'to ah.

May kamukha siguro si Manny sa labas. Kawawa naman.

Five minutes later, Eric and Chino entered the sala showing off an image on their camera. It turns out that it really was Manny Pacquiao. SAYANG TANGINA. I would've run out of Karen's house like a complete asshole and rushed Manny like the fanboy I am. And I would've gone:

Manny, Manny [raising my sleeve] pasuntok naman! Isa lang please!

Manny, Manny [pointing to my cheek] Isa lang, sa mukha! Banatan mo ko!

I left shortly afterwards. The picture that should've-been should be on my YM status pic right now, and on my Friendster account, and on my Multiply profile page. ARGH.

Slow-Mo

2006-03-11T21:11:00.000+08:00

My brother's miniature pinscher chewed up the DSL cable this afternoon.

I have two viable solutions to get out of this rut:

A. Buy a 10 m LAN cable. Climb up unto the third-floor rooftop. Connect said cable to the DSL antenna.

B. Get hold of an RJ45 jack-end and an RJ45 crimping tool. Cut off the damaged part of the existing LAN cable. Try to remember how to connect the jack-end to the cable.

Until then, I'll be stuck using a prepaid dial-up account.

[EDIT: 031206] Okay, I forgot Option C: Open up the cable to reveal the wires inside. Twine together the wires to fix the uplink/downlink. Solved.

Midnight Entry # 2

2006-03-09T00:19:00.000+08:00

Here I am - bored, tired, and somewhat dizzy - staring at the computer screen because I don't have anything productive to do. I should actually be working on my group's marketing study tonight, but I guess I'm just not in the mood to work yet. No one of particular importance is online either, so I can't waste time talking to anyone on YM 'til I begin to feel drowsy. Ach! Boring night, huh? And well, on boring nights like this one - when I'm feeling alone and insomniac and tiny and helpless and unproductive - I can't help but start thinking about stuff - you know, ideas for stories I want to write, films I want to make, places I want to go to, people I want to meet. Yeah right, who am I kidding, huh? Fine, I usually think about things that were, about things that could be but are not, of could-have-beens and should-haves, of missed opportunities and big fucking mistakes. [Yeah, I do know I'm particularly fond of italicizing words - that's how I speak, you see.]

So there, tonight I'm thinking. And aside from the stuff that I usually find myself thinking of - pretty depressing stuff, actually - I'm thinking of one particular incident last sem that makes me feel something. That's the weird thing actually; I don't know what exactly it makes me feel. That's probably why I'm thinking about it in the first place. Let me tell you about it:

So there I was, directing my first film, which was shot in my house back in Alabang. We were a small, unruly crew of five people: two actors, the producer, the cameraman/director of photography, and me. We were running late - it was getting dark, we had barely finished shooting half of the scenes we had to shoot, and the deadline for the screening version of the film was noon the next day. I was half-drunk from all the tequila I had ingested to flush out my creative/insane side, the actors were all tired and sleepless, and there was a general mood of not-being-in-the-mood-for-it-anymore about the set.

And magic happens. I was blocking the role of the actor along with the actress, and all of a sudden I feel the character. That actually wasn't that hard, considering that this film started out as an autobiographical one - and yes, it is a love story of some sort, if you really have to know. Anyway, to cut the story short, shooting the scene goes by without a hitch, and we have a short yosi break before resuming the shoot. And the actor who's playing the lead role - well, he starts crying because he's starting to feel the character too (and this is extremely weird because it's this guy's absolute first time to act in anything, and because he's this quiet, NR guy); and everyone else suddenly decides to become teary-eyed and senti and listen to Sugarfree's music. Needless to say, the rest of the shoot goes by without any further difficulties, and we end up producing a particularly nice short film for a first-time crew.

There. And I have absolutely no idea why I'm thinking of that particular incident. Is it because I'm feeling kind of sentimental tonight? I'm not actually that sentimental tonight; I'm just bored. Do I want to direct a film again? Not now, probably; I don't think I have another great story to tell. I really don't know, I guess.

This entry's quite different from the few previous ones, isn't it?

Sunset Entry # 3

2006-03-07T18:26:00.000+08:00

First off - yes, I am running out of witty titles for my entries. Sorry na.

* * *

This afternoon in Philo102 - Mr. Pasco was discussing about how guys, in general, try their best not to cry despite really wanting to, even if their sinuses are all swollen up and painful from holding back tears:

Mr. Pasco: Oo, kasi ang lalaki diba, ayaw umiyak kasi tangina parang ang bakla diba!?

[He seems to have forgotten that practically all the guys seated in the front two rows are gay, thus resulting in an awkward five-second silence.]

Mr. Pasco: Ay shit sorry! Nalimutan ko...

[Awkward silence continues.]

Mr. Pasco: Erm. Continuing with the lesson...

* * *

After Philo, my classmate JC and I decided to head to World Topps for the usual late afternoon beers (Buy-one-take-one on all local beers for fifty pesos! Puwede na boys!). After an hour or so of drinking and good conversation, we noticed that the young woman at the newspaper stand nearby was suckling her less-than-a-year-old baby with Mountain Dew from a milk bottle.

And then I realized - softdrinks actually cost less than milk.

That was really depressing.

* * *

I found myself riding the condominium's elevator three times today in a single hour (please don't ask me why, okay thanks) and there was this really cute chinita who happened to be in the elevator with me during each trip. And the weird thing was, everyone else would get off at their floors rather early on, thus leaving the two of us alone for practically the latter half of the duration of the elevator ride.

As I was boarding the elevator the third and final time today, I saw her there - alone. Thinking it was getting pretty weird, I gave her a lopsided smile and she returned it. I took my spot and just stood there, silent. We were alone for the rest of the ride down, and I didn't even talk to her. ARGH.

First the pink lighter (just ask - I'll be happy to tell you that story), now this. Why, Jonat, why?

* * *

Up Dharma Down plays really trippy music, if you get my drift. :)

Ayos? Ayos.

Vanity

2006-03-07T14:22:00.000+08:00

I was browsing through my stash of pics from last summer and I just couldn't get over how thin I was then. Damn. Tapos swear ang angas ko pa tingnan with the tan and everything.

I need to lose weight FAST. I'm going to hit the gym every day this summer after work. ARGH. By the end of summer, dapat HELLO GIRLS na 'to! Haha.

Okay sorry, I just woke up. Pardon the narcissism. Bihira lang 'to, swear.

Sunset Entry # 2

2006-03-06T14:54:00.000+08:00

I have this tendency to embarrass myself when I'm bagong-gising, especially right after afternoon naps I take in my apartment to take advantage of breaks between classes. In the middle of hell month last sem, for example, I woke up at two in the afternoon, hurriedly took a shower, slipped into some presentable clothes, and ran to school so I wouldn't be that late for my two-thirty class. Despite being ten minutes late for class, it was a wise decision on my part to attempt to slip discreetly into class instead of rushing in; just before actually entering the classroom I was surprised to see my Philosophy teacher Mr. Pasco in front, instead of my Economics teacher Mr. Tamangan. It took me a full five seconds to register that my Economics class was actually supposed to be at one-thirty - that is, one hour earlier. I shrugged my shoulders, walked home, and ate at Jollibee along the way.

But today I outdid myself. I ran to school after an hour's nap and was actually on time for my ten-thirty class (okay, five minutes late, then - that's good enough for me). I rushed into the classroom and while scrambling to get to my seat, I noticed that the teacher in front was Sir Darwin Yu and that the people in the classroom were all M.E. sophomores. It again took me five seconds to realize that I was supposed to be in the classroom adjacent to this one. So I said "Ah! Mali... Sawry!" sheepishly while slowly backing out of the classroom amidst their laughter. That was funny. Haha.

* * *

Seen on the rear end of a jeepney this afternoon: Don't trust a man who does'nt [sic] drink.

True, true. Kulang sa init ang dugo.

* * *

This afternoon in Theology class, I volunteered to be the representative of my group to pick a number out of the box - you know, to determine the presentation order of the groups who were set to report. Seems that I'm pretty lucky today - my group's the very last one to report.

Buti na lang. Bukas pala zipper ko the whole time. Hehe.

* * *

I'm currently addicted to Up Dharma Down, and I really don't know why. There seems to be something really honest about their music that I can't really place, like how deconstructed pants and black coffee are honest to their substance, to their being.

Deconstructed rock. I like.

My Name

2006-03-02T11:17:00.000+08:00

I really like this one.

Jonathan --

[noun]:

An immortal

'How will you be defined in the dictionary?' at QuizGalaxy.com

Midnight Entry # 1

2006-03-02T01:01:00.001+08:00

One of the two most important women in my life (the other one's my mom, if you're curious) celebrated her birthday today.

To my sister, who grows in beauty each day (and yeah, my mom's right - she does resemble Joyce Jimenez): Happy fourteenth birthday Jessikoy. I love you. :)

* * *

On my way home to celebrate my sister's birthday, I took a cab to Ortigas to meet up with my dad in order to save him some driving time. I told the cabbie to drop me off at the Shell station on Vargas corner Rodriguez. Instead, he let me off at the Shell station on Sapphire corner Ortigas. Salamat ah. Your sense of direction definitely did not make up for your dreadful road etiquette as I was hoping it would. Asshole.

* * *

Tonight I realized just how memorable Alabang Town Center really is to me. Each store, each restaurant, each bench - I can tell you a dozen stories about every single one of them.

My family ate in Friday's tonight, and I couldn't help but recall a story about a 5-peso bill, one about a birthday dinner, and another about a Double Fudge Brownie.

I shared two Double Fudge Brownies with my siblings tonight. That was bliss :)

* * *

Rustom Padilla just admitted his homosexuality on national television. Afterwards, he spent a chockful of time sobbing on Kiana's breasts... err, chest. Either he just isn't a boob person, or he really is completely gay.

* * *

Will Shakespeare truly is a literary god.

But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?
It is the East, and Juliet is the sun!
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief
That thou her maid art far more fair than she.
Be not her maid, since she is envious.
Her vestal livery is but sick and green,
And none but fools do wear it. Cast it off.
It is my lady; O, it is my love!
O that she knew she were!
She speaks, yet she says nothing. What of that?
Her eye discourses; I will answer it.
I am too bold; 'tis not to me she speaks.
Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
Having some business, do entreat her eyes
To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
What if her eyes were there, they in her head?
The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars
As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven
Would through the airy region stream so bright
That birds would sing and think it were not night.
See how she leans her cheek upon her hand!
O that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek!

Romeo and Juliet is, hands down, one of the best stories ever told.

Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things;
Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished;
For never was a story of more woe
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.

Sunset Entry # 1

2006-02-28T17:15:00.000+08:00

My friend Rica (who I haven't talked to for more than two years even if we go to the same school) read my fortune this afternoon. In contrast to the fortune the manghuhula from Quiapo told me last year at the lambanog-drenched CERSA Juniors Party (I promise to update this entry with what the manghuhula told me then, as soon as I get home and gain access to my other computer), here are what the cards reveal about me this time:

PAST: A girl and I had a relationship that started out with love on either or both part(s), but degraded into more of a physical-attraction thing as time progressed. I loved the girl much more than she actually loved me.

PRESENT: I feel animosity towards a girl because of something she did to me. Same girl wants to be friends with me, but I don't want to because I'm angry at what she did, and because I'll never be satisfied with just friendship.

NEAR FUTURE: A girl and I will have a relationship that would be purely and intensely physical/platonic on either or both part(s), but it will never be more than enacted desire. Same girl and I will be great friends.

Pretty okay for somehow who I haven't talked to for some time.

I never really take these things seriously though.

* * *

Adobe Premiere rocks! Aside from writing and editing papers for people, I now offer digital video editing services. Rates are negotiable, and I will work for beers.

Thanks. :)

Chuck Norris Counted to Infinity. Twice.

2006-02-28T00:23:00.000+08:00

Please do click on the pic to enlarge it. :)

Mallrat

2006-02-25T19:45:00.000+08:00

I finally made like a South boy today and bought my very first pair of white sneakers. Whoopeedoo.

And I finally bought myself a video editing set of upgrades for my computer - another 512 MB of RAM, an 80 GB hard drive, a 16x DVD-writer, and a video capture card. Now, if only I had something to edit aside from the Philosophy documentary due on Tuesday.

Oh, and my dad gave me an elegant-looking silver pen today. It seems that I've finally found myself a portable muse substitute. In Starbucks this afternoon, I started scribbling down an outline for a short story I've always wanted to make and I found that I just couldn't stop writing. Nothing like coffee, nicotine, a thick pad of paper, and a good pen to get my creative juices flowing.

* * *

I just found out I might be going to Boracay with my family from March 10 to 12. Hurrah for the first Boracay trip of summer! This finally gives me an excuse to start losing weight.

Fuck the finals! Who wants to tag along?

* * *

On a rather sadder note - it's been almost eight months, and I'm still not used to shopping/going around the mall alone.

Turning Point?

2006-02-24T22:58:00.000+08:00

Cuenca Park is magical. It always has been, and always will be.

Thank you. :)

Sound Trip

2006-02-22T11:52:00.000+08:00

I felt trippy this morning, so I tried out an experiment.

I put a playlist of purely emo-ish songs on my iPod (all of Death Cab for Cutie's songs, plus a few of Dashboard Confessional's less popular songs) and listened to it for a significant part of the morning. Yeah, this included breaks between class, my daily solo brunch at the caf, the twenty-plus minutes spent waiting for my classes to start at the CTC SPG, and even during class itself.

Needless to say, after three hours spent listening to the playlist, I became fucking depressed. It felt like an episode straight out of The O.C.

Long live teen drama!

Oh, wait. I'm not a teen anymore. Damn.

* * *

I want a Coheed and Cambria tee. Does anyone know where I can get one?

Thanks.

* * *

[EDIT: 02/22/06 Midnight]

Argh. Katharine McPhee is so freaking beautiful. I swear, I felt like melting while watching her performance. Save the best for last, indeed. :x I am a fanboy.

* * *

In between American Idol replays, I happened to chance upon ABS-CBN's ads calling teens to audition for the next season of Pinoy Big Brother.

Me to my roomie Andrew: Uy mag-audition kaya ako diyan! Haha.

Andrew: Oo sige! Magsinungaling ka na lang tungkol sa age mo.

Me: Ay shit hindi na nga pala ako teenager...

Two months ago, I happened to bring up the same topic over dinner with my family.

Me: Mommy sali kaya ako Big Brother?

Mom: Tanggal ka kaagad dun. Masyado kang suplado, tsaka snobbish. Tapos tamad ka pa.

Me: ...

Godspell

2006-02-18T17:24:00.000+08:00

I watched the high school cast of Godspell perform last night. It was, in my opinion, probably the best official Zobel production I've ever watched. For once, there were no flying kids, no Jollibee mascot running amok on the stage, and no trying-hard-to-be-grand sets; rather, there was a licensed screenplay, a minimalist set (I'm a sucker for these kinds of plays), a live band (My brother Michael's playing the piano for all three castings - beat that!), a very capable director (who just happens to be my cousin Joonee), and an extremely talented cast (Anna, if by any chance you happen to come across this entry: Damn, girl! You are good! And I don't just mean hey-I'm-proud-of-you good, but seriously, brilliantly, abso-fucking-lutely wonderful good! It just sucks that the CPA's acoustics are horrible, and that your mic had to give out on you during your solo; good thing I was seated in front so I still got to hear you sing).

I realized while watching the play that I'm probably the least artistic among all the members of my family. Note, that by "my family" I'm not referring to my father's side (which is rather boringly composed of a bunch of dentists, but hey - they're all good cooks) but to my mother's side. Take my mom's cousin, Uncle Tiny, for example - aside from having painted several nudes and landscapes in different media over the past few decades, my mom tells me he's had a hand in painting the huge, fiery backdrop that covers the stage of CCP's main theater; I also recall overhearing he was supposed to be on the fast track to being a National Artist if only he actually were a Filipino citizen. Then you have my cousins, the Garcia sisters: Cherish, the eldest, has been a ballet instructor for as long as I can remember, and she writes for newspapers and magazines as a contributing columnist; Joonee, who I mentioned earlier as the director of Godspell, has been a piano instructor for as long as I remember, and she also directs some of the choirs of St. James in Alabang; Em, the youngest, aside from being a mamaw drummer, is an animator whose first full-length work, Everdusk, is set to come out in the US as a series (and she has all these bad-ass tattoos!). I also believe I have a distant cousin somewhere who teaches theater in Trumpets.

Then you have my siblings: Michael's gotten really good at playing the piano, and he specializes in weird-ass, syncopated, monstrous contemporary pieces that often leave you speechless when you listen to him play in CCP (I wonder when he's finally going to join NAMCYA); Jessica, my only sister, has been dancing since she was two or three years old, loving every bit of it, and now her toenails keep falling out because of her pointe shoes; Jeremy, my youngest brother, has also been taking piano lessons for quite a while now, though I'd prefer to see him onstage with that big voice of his, and he's creative with how to make people laugh. Hehe. I am such a stage brother.

[EDIT: Heck, even my mom has a history of performing onstage. She just told me a story about how she used to be part of her college's theater group; her favorite performance was their rendition of Jesus Christ Superstar.]

* * *

All these leads us all to the question: What the hell can you do, Jonat?

I bet that almost all of you don't know that I started piano lessons at the age of four, continuing up to the age of thirteen, and that I've played in CCP at least three times already. I'm sure only a handful of you know that I'm a classically-trained guitarist, having studied under different instructors for four years and having been on stage once or twice; I've also taken improvisation, composition, and jazz guitar. I used to have a pretty dependable voice, but ruined it over the past four years of on-and-off (but mostly on) smoking. I used to dream of performing in a band - on vocals, playing the guitar, or even both! - but fat chance of that now, right? I haven't even touched a guitar in almost three years now, and I've been reduced to singing along off-key in the shower to songs I download on Limewire.

A whole lot more of you are aware of my passion for watching and making films, but did you know that it actually stems from my being a frustrated actor? You see, in third year high school I was persuaded into accepting the lead role for the class play which, after all the hours of practices and rehearsals, eventually won Best Play and Best Director. Although I didn't win an acting award, that play (along with me appearing on TV) was responsible for helping me getting rid of most of my adolescent insecurities and helping me become the walang-hiya person I am now. Now, well, I just like watching films other people make; I make short films or documentaries every now and then when they're required for school, but generally I really don't have time for pursuing any of my hobbies.

Oh, and I draw too! I keep journal-sketchbook entries of certain events in my life, much like the dude I featured in an entry I wrote around a month ago. I've actually been thinking of making my blog into something like that but it would take up too much scanning time and bandwidth to keep at it. Oh well. Now I just sketch (mostly sad self-portraits) in class to keep myself awake.

Last Christmas, Joonee asked me if I was interested to be part of the alumni cast of Godspell.

Can you act?, she asked.

Yep, I guess, I replied.

Can you sing?, she then asked.

Yep, I think I can, I answered.

Oh okay, but can you dance?, she finally asked.

[My mom and brother, who were overhearing the conversation, coincidentally managed to get samid at the same time, ending up in a fit of coughing that lasted at least a minute. ]

Erm, I can direct, I finally replied with a sheepish smile.

I want to do something productive again. I want to create, or at least be part of, something beautiful. I want to make a feature film. I want to be part of a one-hit-wonder band. I want to publish a book, or edit an anthology. I want to help produce a play. But hell, I guess I just don't have the time nor talent to do what I want anymore; I'm stuck in this money- and number- obsessed course caring about nothing but my grades and where I'm going to end up working.

Sorry if the whole mood of this whole entry seems mayabang. I guess I just feel that I need to remind myself once in a while of who I am and what I can do. I'm not even there yet, but corporate anonymity's starting to get to me already.

On Manny Pacquiao and Katharine McPhee

2006-02-16T22:31:00.000+08:00

A 1/3 page advertisement seen in today's newspaper (PDI or Star - I can't really remember):

Hindi ka ba napapagtaka kung paano napatumba ng matitibay na suntok ni Pacman si Eric Morales?

Ang sikreto ni Pacquiao, labas na!

Mayroon siyang nakakabit na MOTOLITE battery sa puwit!

- Insert an obviously Photoshopped image of the back of Manny's trunks with a MOTOLITE logo superimposed on 'em -

That was by far the worst advertisement I've ever seen. Quite disturbing, really.

* * *

Oh, and can I just say that I find Katharine McPhee (you know, the girl on American Idol - the daughter of the music teacher) extremely hot. Yeah, I know she's kinda chubby, but my God, what a face! And what a voice! Woohoo. You should hear me screaming her name out whenever she comes out on the show (and on all its replays!). Haha what a fanboy.

That Filipino dude Sway got in - good job! And the arrogant black twins got disqualified because they had to go to a court hearing for three counts of felony. Serves them right, in my opinion.

I'm rooting for Katharine, Lisa Tucker, Kelly Pickler, Paris, the bald rocker guy, and the gray-haired weirdo. In other words, I'm rooting for the fan favorites. Hehe.

Exhibitionism

2006-02-16T00:56:00.000+08:00

Walking home from school early this afternoon, I found myself on the Ateneo-Jollibee pedestrian overpass. There was no one else on the overpass (it being an disgustingly hot day) except for the usual street kid who'd ask me for loose change once I passed by. This time, however, there was something unusual about the boy sprawled on the floor of the overpass - he was too old to be one of the kids who knew me by name and who'd swarm me once they saw me walking to school; on the other hand, he was too young to be one of the thin, tattooed young men who manned the illegal parking operation underneath the overpass. No, this boy was around twelve to fourteen years old, and he didn't even glance at me as I was approaching his position on the overpass.

As I passed him, I managed to steal a glance at him to see if he was one of the familiar faces I see roaming Katipunan. At that very exact moment (all without looking at me) he whipped out his dick and started jacking off. I was stunned speechless and I don't know why.

I saw the same kid later that day as I was walking home from my last class; this time he was sitting on the street in front of Red Ribbon and Max's just watching people go by. As I passed by I noticed that he kept looking at his groin through the leg of his shorts every now and then.

I am effing disturbed.

* * *

After a couple of beers and a wonderful game of poker (I think I'm actually getting good at this) outside World Topps, JC, his high school classmate Ross, and I suddenly decided to head to Makati. After all, it was Ladies' Night and just one day after Valentine's - hell, there might be no girls our age out that night, but there might be some hot, approachable yuppies around (shit, ang desperado na namin no). We passed by a few bars, and almost all of them were effing empty (except for Saguijo, Kapatid was set to play tonight, kaso pangit yung crowd); hell, I've never seen Ponti that empty. Just bad timing, we concluded, and set off for Mr. Kebab for some good food. Bawi na lang sa Friday and Saturday. Hehe.

Arena

(known to self and others)

idealistic, knowledgeable, loving, sentimental

Blind Spot

(known only to others)

bold, clever, complex, extroverted, logical, nervous, observant, organised, powerful, quiet, reflective, religious, self-assertive, sensible, silly, spontaneous, trustworthy, witty

Façade

(known only to self)

intelligent, self-conscious

Unknown

(known to nobody)

able, accepting, adaptable, brave, calm, caring, cheerful, confident, dependable, dignified, energetic, friendly, giving, happy, helpful, independent, ingenious, introverted, kind, mature, modest, patient, proud, relaxed, responsive, searching, shy, sympathetic, tense, warm, wise

Dominant Traits

60% of people agree that jonat! is sentimental

All Percentages

able (0%) accepting (0%) adaptable (0%) bold (20%) brave (0%) calm (0%) caring (0%) cheerful (0%) clever (20%) complex (20%) confident (0%) dependable (0%) dignified (0%) energetic (0%) extroverted (40%) friendly (0%) giving (0%) happy (0%) helpful (0%) idealistic (40%) independent (0%) ingenious (0%) intelligent (0%) introverted (0%) kind (0%) knowledgeable (40%) logical (20%) loving (40%) mature (0%) modest (0%) nervous (20%) observant (20%) organised (20%) patient (0%) powerful (20%) proud (0%) quiet (20%) reflective (40%) relaxed (0%) religious (20%) responsive (0%) searching (0%) self-assertive (40%) self-conscious (0%) sensible (20%) sentimental (60%) shy (0%) silly (20%) spontaneous (20%) sympathetic (0%) tense (0%) trustworthy (20%) warm (0%) wise (0%) witty (20%)

Created by the Interactive Johari Window on 3.3.2006, using data from 5 respondents.
You can make your own Johari Window, or view jonat!'s full data.

Oh, and help boost my self-esteem! Haha. Fill up my Johari window.

Thanks.

Am I Real?

2006-02-14T18:37:00.000+08:00

It sucks to have to eat out everyday when it's Valentine's Day, doesn't it? You have to deal with horrid traffic, long lines in fast food joints (ang cheap niyo magdate! hehe), and annoying cheesiness in the form of a couple doodling sweet nothings to each other on a paper napkin just on the other side of the glass window. Yeah, senti na kung senti, it's Valentine's Day, so forgive me.

I think I'm cursed.

You see, every girl I fall in love with - and I do mean every single one - ends up in a real relationship soon after I get involved with them. I'm not just referring to my ex-girlfriends, but to all the girls I've been in MUs with, that I've courted, that have turned me down, and even those I've seriously liked but were too afraid to tell. And by a real relationship, I don't just mean something that lasts more than two years (which most of them actually were - I can count at least two who're still together today), but also to a relationship so good that the girl forgets all about me after less than a month.

Yes, I'm cursed; I've been left for another guy twice already (and I mean it literally this time), and I end up like trash thrown out for the dogs to eat, or like a toy a kid buries in a toychest, or throws out even, when she's grown sick of it because she got a better toy. Don't get me wrong, I'm not being bitter here - but it just plain sucks.

It's not that nobody takes me seriously. I just always end up the guy before the big one - you know, I'm the one you forget all about, the one about whom you say, "Oh him! He was.. I dunno, sweet, I guess.." when asked about, the one who you just remember as a notch on your bedpost. I end up the teacher - and God, how I hate that profession now - who teaches you all about how stupid, funny, needy, and irrational a guy acts when he's in love with you. I end up the one who taught you all about how to make your new guy happy, or possibly the guy from who you learned just what it means to love. I end up the one who ends up an insecure wreck, and you end up not caring about me because you're so in love with your new guy (who you, by the way, think is so much better than your old guy; why did I ever bother with him anyway?). I end up the guy you can afford to forget and stop caring about; what does it matter right? You're with him, and he's worth doing whatever you did to me for.

Sorry for the drama. Yeah I know you're tired of me acting like this, everyone is; heck even I'm really tired of it already. It's just that it's happened to me too many times already, and I'm just plain tired of it. It really sucks.

Oh well. It's not that I don't believe in love - hell, I can love you today like there's no tomorrow, and wake up the next morning and do the same thing if I choose to love you - I just guess it's just not for me. A lot of my friends tell me that maybe I just pick the wrong girls, but hey - fool me once, your bad; fool me twice, my bad; fool me thrice, there's just something wrong with me then. I can't help but think that I must be doing something really wrong for this to keep on happening to me.

So there, I think I've given up on love. It just doesn't happen to me - I'm just the fling, the flirting buddy, the best friend, or that classmate of yours who looks at you in a funny way.

Oh well, I guess I'd better start getting used to playing the part.

To those who have something to celebrate: Happy Valentine's Day.
To those who don't: Happy Valentine's Day rin.
Me? I'm going to down a few beers, get a more-than-a-little mellow, and watch Lost until I fall asleep.

The moon just rose outside my window.
Have a lovely night.

P.S. I'm going to have to edit this article. I'm a little bit too mellow already.

05: And that laugh that wrinkles your nose touches my foolish heart.

So Fresh and So Clean

2006-02-11T15:40:00.001+08:00

i. Absolution

This morning, I went to my first confession in almost two years. All I can say about it is that I initially knocked the priest speechless with the stuff I confessed, and that the whole thing took around fifteen minutes to finish.

It seems that it's going to take more than good intentions or motives to fix my life. The priest suggested me nipping the problem at its bud - that means I should stop staying in the condo where I do the majority of my shit.

Nah. Can't happen.

ii. Losing It

Yes, I know that I haven't been blogging much lately. It's not that there's nothing blogworthy happening in my life, or that I've given up blogging again. It's just that...

I seem to have lost my muse.

I just can't seem to write anymore - whether short stories, school essays, marketing papers, or blog entries. Whenever I try to write I end up either staring at the computer or playing solitaire. Oh, and I'm not as O.C. in making my entries pleasant to read. I used to edit each entry at least four times before finally publishing it; I'm publishing this entry on the first edit.

I think I can only really write only when I'm really happy or when I'm really fucked up. Now, I just feel like I'm drifting from day to day just waiting for something good to happen to me. Kaso wala pa. Tangina, bilisan mo.

iii. Last Year

... something beautiful happened.

I'm not talking about what happened exactly one year ago, but last year's version of the event that's happening tonight.

Some of the best photos to have ever graced human sight were taken that night. And one guy thought he could never be happier. Malabo, alam ko.

I need something to do tonight. Something, anything.

It's a Conspiracy

2006-01-18T14:50:00.000+08:00

i.

I was at home, practically drooling over the smell of KFC wafting from my neighbor's unit, so I decided to pass by KFC for lunch before attending my Theology 131 class. On my way to KFC (which was a 2-minute walk from my condo), I encountered two pairs of deaf-mutes/mutes conversing in sign language, which was quite unusual, considering that I've only come across a single mute person in the Katipunan area in the three years I've been staying here.

Anyway, I got to KFC, ordered myself a chicken steak (yes, I know I'm a cheapskate), and settled at my usual second floor table - the one overlooking Katipunan. As usual, there was a group of tambay goons seated right across me. After wolfing down my meal, I started reading the required Theology readings (a totally fallacious treatise on masturbation; but I preempt myself, more on that later). To my surprise, the group of goons seated near me started conversing in sign language, and after a while they began laughing with these weird soundless laughs.

I swear, they were talking about me. The guy who did most of the "talking" kept on glancing at me, and kept rubbing or pointing to his scalp, as if to say "... the bald guy over there." And his friends kept on laughing their weird, disconcerting laughs. I'm not discriminating or anything against the disabled, but that was just plain fucked up. Anyway, I couldn't concentrate on my reading, so I went out for my usual post-meal cigarette. Surprise, surprise - as soon as I lighted up, another group of mute goon-looking people started up an animated conversation near me. I just found it plain weird, so I hurriedly finished the stick and got a trike to Ateneo.

ii.

Apparently, St. Thomas Aquinas believed that masturbation was worse than rape in the eyes of God. His reasoning: rape, while gravely wrong by itself, is a natural act because it occurs between a man and a woman; masturbation, on the other hand, is un-natural because it is an extreme perversion of the procreative functions of our God-given genitals. But don't chimpanzees, and other primates with reversible thumbs, masturbate in the wild? Methinks that's primal enough to call natural.

Think about it - life would be so much more interesting if rape were indeed less a sin than masturbation. Rape me now, girls! Haha.

True to Life

2006-01-16T21:24:00.000+08:00

I dug up yet another work from my missing Filipino 14 portfolio. This time it's a very short story.

Enjoy :)

LRT
isinulat 3:45 PM ng Marso 16, 2004

4:30 ng hapon. Umaalingasaw ang init sa lansangan; parang mga langaw na nakadapo't nakadikit sa malalagkit na katawan ng mga taong-grasang nakahiga sa mga bangketa ng Taft Avenue. Doble ang init at lagkit na nararamdaman ng mga taong nakaupo, nakatayo, nakasabit, nalulunod sa loob ng LRT. Hindi makahinga si Jonat; halos wala nang hanging mahagilap sa loob ng gumagalaw na sauna na ito. Kung makahinga man siya, halos masuka siya sa fiesta ng amoy na bumabati sa kanya: panis na sigarilyo, bawang at sibuyas, tuyong pawis, at bangkay na nabubulok at inuuod sa ilalim ng lupa.

"Putang ina. Ang bagal naman ng tren," isip ni Jonat. "Kailangan ko nang bumaba."

Hipo.

May naramdamang kamay si Jonat na nakapatong sa puwit niya. "Putang ina!", isip niya. "Patay sa'kin yang gagong yan." Lumingon siya't pinagmasdan ang mga taong nalulusaw sa paligid niya - di-umiimik na batang nakakapit sa inang tulog; pagod na manggagawa sa pagawaan ng sapatos; kulubot na mukha ng matandang (babae/lalaki?) na malapit nang mamatay. "Nasaan ka? Nasaan ka? Magpakita ka, putang ina.", sinigaw niyang pabulong.

Tumigil ang tren sa Gil Puyat. Parang bato si Jonat sa gitna ng dumadagsang dagat ng mga taong pababa at pasakay sa LRT.

Hipo.

May naramdamang kamay si Jonat na nakapatong sa puwit niya. Hindi ito inalis. "Putang ina!," isip ni Jonat. "Patay ka sa'kin ngayon." Lumingon siya at tiningnan ang maliit na kamay na nakadikit, nakadapo sa puwit niya. Sinundan upang makita ang may-ari - maitim na braso; malagkit na katawan; malibag na leeg. Nakatingin sa kanya ang isang unanong nakangiti. Bungi. Panot. Balbasarado. "Putang inang buhay 'to", isip ni Jonat. Tinitigan lang niya ang unano.

Tumigil ang tren sa Vito Cruz. Nagpadala si Jonat sa dumadagsang dagat ng taong pababa sa LRT.

4:45 ng hapon. Umaalingasaw ang init sa lansangan; parang mga langaw na nakadapo't nakadikit sa malalagkit na katawan ng mga taong grasang nakahiga sa mga bangketa ng Taft Avenue.

My Birthday

2006-01-11T22:08:00.001+08:00

I don't usually post surveys/blogthings, but I found this a bit nice.

Your Birthdate: February 19

You are resilient, and no doubt your resilience has already been tested. You've had some difficult experiences in your life, but you are wise from them. Having had to grow up quickly, you tend to discount the advice of others. You tend to be a loner, having learned that the only person you can depend on is yourself.

Your strength: Well developed stability and confidence

Your weakness: Suspicion of others

Your power color: Eggplant

Your power symbol: Spade

Your power month: October

What Does Your Birth Date Mean?

Jeffrey Brown

2006-01-10T22:52:00.000+08:00

... is this guy who keeps sketchbooks with comic strips depicting scenes from his life. They're a bit like diaries, only so much more candid. Mostly they're about sex, relationships, and growing up. And well, he publishes them as graphic novels. I don't really understand why.

I've only read one of his graphic novels (Clumsy) and I totally loved it. It was heartachingly honest and awkward and heart-warming all at the same time; somewhere in the middle of the book I actually felt ashamed to continue reading on because I felt like a voyeur. If you liked Craig Thompson's Blankets, you're going to love Clumsy even more.

Here's his website.

And here are a few pages from Clumsy (click on them if they're too small):

Life Lessons

2006-01-06T01:54:00.000+08:00

At long last, I can say that I applied something I learned in high school.

There I was, studying for my Theo131 midterms, when Cacao came out of the bedroom to ask me if I knew how to change a flat tire. Of course I did - flash back to Automotive T.H.E. classes: cleaning spark plugs, jumpstarting dead batteries, and changing flats. So we trekked down to Burgundy Plaza's basement parking to Kia's car at 1:30 AM; it took us a little more than 30 minutes to change the front left tire.

What a workout. Three cheers for Sir Rey Miranda - for soldering scars, greasy fingers, and sweat-drenched undershirts.

Be Careful What You Wish For

2006-01-05T22:39:00.000+08:00

2004 was the most productive year of my life in terms of the sheer quantity of the written works I churned out. I had this really funky professor for Filipino 14, you see. His name was Vladimeir Gonzales (try googling him, I think he has a couple of short stories online), and while other sections were taking up Public Speaking or Grammar (balarila in Filipino - somehow I never really liked that word), he put us through a semester-long creative writing workshop.

One major requirement of that subject was to submit a portfolio of written works at the end of the sem, compiled in one small notebook. I took the project really seriously, being the angsty, idealistic freshman I was then, so I think I could say that that notebook contained the most personal, most honest works I've ever written at that point in my life.

Now, the sucky thing (and the inspiration for this entry, actually) is that I somehow misplaced the notebook after it was checked and returned to us at the end of the sem. I'd give anything to get that notebook back and just browse through my old work, but despite my efforts I just couldn't seem to locate it. So anyway, by some stroke of luck, I was cleaning up my desktop and came across this essay I wrote for the subject.

Here's the unedited essay for your consumption (pardon the awkward Filipino, and the grammar and punctuation errors).

Somehow I was so innocent back then.

Ang Alaala ay Panaginip ay Alaala

Minsan sa may kalayaan tayo'y nagkatagpuan
May mga sariling gimik at kanya-kanyang hangad sa buhay..
"Minsan" - Eraserheads

Ang mga alaala ko’y makipot, malapot, malabo - parang mga panaginip na totoo habang tulog ka ngunit hindi na mabalikan pagkagising sa umaga. Ang mga ito'y parang usok ng sigarilyo na nakikita't naaamoy ngunit hindi naman mahagilap tuwing susubukan huliin. Bumabalik ang mga ito nang pasulpot-sulpot, sa mga oras na hindi ko aakalaing bibisatahin ka ng nakaraang halos hindi ko na makilala. Dumadating ang mga punto na kung minsan ay hindi ko na alam kung totoong alaala nga ang aking binabalikan o isang panaginip, o kathang isip, mula sa malikot na imahinasyon.

* * *

Ang mga alaala ay ang mga panaginip ng taong lasing.

Halos tinanghali na ako ng gising kahapon, at sobrang sama ang aking pakiramdam - pagod, masakit ang ulo, at masagwa ang lasa ng bibig. Unti-unting bumalik sa akin ang gabing nakaraan, kasama na rin ng pagbalik ng aking tamang pag-iisip: nandiyan ang di-mawawalang beer at ang malagkit na itim na upuan; ang mga gumigiling na babaeng nakangiti at ang mga umiikot na ilaw; at sa kasukdulan, ang nakakasilaw na puti ng banyo at ang pamilyar na amoy ng aking kama. Halos naririnig ko pa rin ang mga ipinatugtog noong nakaraang gabi.

Ang problema lang ngayon, hindi ko na malaman kung alin sa mga ito ang totoo, at kung alin ang kathang-isip ko na lamang - kung alin ang mga totoong alaala, at kung alin ang mga panaginip na dala lamang ng serbesa. Sa di-mabilang na mga umaga na katulad ng umagang iyon, sabay-sabay na sumasayaw sa aking utak si Mister Kabab, si Marlboro Man, si Aubrey Miles, at si Grimace, sa walang katapusan na pagpukpok ng tambol ng puso ko.

* * *

Ang alaala at panaginip ay tulad ng Fuji apple na nalimutan sa loob ng ref hanggang mabulok na.

Dalawa sa aking mga kauna-unahang alaala ay galing sa isang Kiddie Party sa McDo noong mga anim na taong gulang pa lamang ako. Mukha akong tumatalon na bola na malakas ang boses, at daig pa sa kakulitan si Dennis the Menace. Ang gawain ko noon sa mga party ay ang pagtakbo palibot sa kuwartong ginaganapan upang kolektahin ang lahat ng mga lobong nakatali sa mga upuan at mga dingding, upang huwag silang putukin ng ibang mga bata. Ngunit wala ring silbi - tatawagin lamang nila akong sugapa at aagawin sa akin ang lahat ng mga lobong pinaghirapan kong tanggalin ang buhol. Noong panahong iyon kasi, kinakausap ko ang mga lobo, at kinakausap din nila ako. Pinaka-ayokong mga laro noon ang Pop the Balloon at ang Balloon Relay, dahil para sa akin ang malakas na pagputok ng mga lobo ay ang huling pag-ungol ng mga biktimang ito. Habang tuwang-tuwa ang mga batang mamamatay-lobo sa mga larong ito, nakaluhod lamang ako sa malayong kanto ng kuwarto nang nakapikit ang mata at nakatakip ang tainga. Ayokong marinig ang mga sigaw nila.

Hilig ko din gawin noon sa McDo ang paghabol sa mga mascot. Ewan ko lang kasi, pero aliw na aliw ako sa mga mascot, lalong-lalo na kay Grimace. Pakiramdam ko kasi, kamukha ko siya. Hindi naman sa mukha akong higanteng kamote o mabuhok na ube noong bata ako, pero alam mo yung pakiramdam na iyon - ako siya, at siya ako. Ipinagtagpo kami ng tadhana. Ngunit hindi yata alam ni Grimace iyon. Isang beses, tinalunan ko siya kasabay ng mahigpit na yakap sa braso. Nagulat naman ako, dahil sa halip na yakapin din niya ako, napabulong ito nang malakas, "Tanginang bata ka!", kasabay ng hampas ng mabalahibo at kulay-ubeng kamay.

* * *

Ang ala-ala ay boses mula sa panaginip, na kahit na anong gawin ay hinding-hindi na maririnig muli.

Hindi ko na maalala ang boses ni Pong Pagong. Nakakabadtrip, siya pa naman kasi ang paborito kong karakter sa Batibot, at siya rin ang pinakapaborito kong mascot sa lahat. Ang guwapo kasi niya, lalo na kapag katabi niya sina Kiko Matsing at Kuya Bodji. Gusto ko nga noon magkatuluyan sila ni Ate Siena - bagay sana sila. Basta, naaalala kong mataas, at hindi maintindihan, ang boses niya; hindi tulad ng boses ni Kiko Matsing, na magaspang at tunog-rapist.

Takot na takot ako kay Kiko Matsing noong bata ako (at hanggang ngayon pa rin ata?). Doon sa Batibot lang ako nakakita ng bansot na unggoy na mas maliit pa kaysa sa pagong. At siya na rin ang pinakapangit na matsing na nakita ko sa buong buhay ko - mukha siyang echas ng matsing. At ang boses niya - Diyos ko! - ang boses niya'y nakakatindig-balahibo. Nagkakabangungot pa ako noon dahil sa mahiwagang boses niya. "Ate Siena! Ate Siena! Tingnan mo! Ang laki ng Titik O!".

Ang dami ko talagang natutunan sa Batibot. Bukod sa Makabagong Alpabetong Pilipino at sa pagbilang, doon ko nalaman na walang perpektong sitwasyon sa mundo - laging patas lang. Kung mayroong lalaki tulad ni Kuya Bodji, mayroon ding babae, si Ate Siena. Kung may alpabeto, mayroon ding mga numero. Kung mayroong cute na Pong Pagong, mayroon ding sobrang pangit na Kiko Matsing.

Salamat talaga sa Batibot; ibang tao siguro ako ngayon kung wala ito noon. Sobrang laki ng naging epekto sa akin nito na minsan napapakanta na lang ako bigla ng, "Pagmulat ng mata, paggising sa umaga...".

* * *

Ang mga alaala at panaginip ay mga kantang umiikot sa isipan na tutugtog na lang bigla tuwing hindi inaasahan.

Bawat ala-ala sa isip ko ay may karugtong na kanta o mga kanta. Pati na rin ang mga panaginip ko'y kadalasa'y may kanta ring tumutugtog sa background, parang telenobela o kaya nama'y isang episode ng Maalaala Mo Kaya. Dahil dito, sobrang dali para sa akin ang makaalala ng mga nakaraang pangyayari tuwing nakakarinig ako ng musika. Kaso lang, kadalasan, nagiging parang music video ang nagiging porma ng alaala, kung saan nakikikanta ang mga tauhan sa loob ng eksena sa mga salita ng kanta, o kaya'y pasulpot-sulpot naman ang bandang tumugtog ng kanta. Minsan pa nga'y nagiging parang videoke ang itsura ng alaala, kung saan lumalabas ang mga salita ng kanta sa bandang ilalim ng imahen habang tuloy-tuloy ang kuwento.

OPM ang karamihan sa mga kantang nakakabit sa mga alaala at panaginip ko. Nandiyan ang Rivermaya, Eraserheads, True Faith, Parokya ni Edgar, The Dawn, Hotdog, at siyempre, Siakol. Sila ang mga kinakalakihan at nakasanayan ko sa aking formative years - noong ako'y 8 hanggang 13 na taong gulang. "Formative years" ang tawag diyan, dahil ang panahong iyan ang siyang magpapanday at magbubuo sa pag-isip at pagkatao ng isang nilalang. Noong tumanda ako, nadagdagan na rin ang mga bandang tumutugtog sa isipan ko, ngunit OPM pa rin - ang Hungry Young Poets, Barbie's Cradle, Mojofly, Sugarfree, at kung anu-anong mga banda na naririnig ko sa NU 107.5.

Kung ang ibang tao, may photographic memory, ako siguro, may musical memory. Ako yung tipo ng tao na kapag nakarinig ng kanta'y sisigaw ng, "Pare! (Pamagat ng kanta) 'yan a! Mems! Naaalala mo noong...".

* * *

Ang mga panaginip ay parang mga kanta sa gitara na malilimutan mo kung paano tugtugin, ngunit bigla mong maaalala tuwing nagjajamming kayo ilang taon na ang nakaraan.

Malaking porsyento ng aking oras sa hayskul ang kinuha ng musika. Ako yung tipo ng taong hindi mo makikitang walang hawak na gitara - mula silid-aralan, hanggang canteen, mula kotse, hanggang mall, mula inuman, hanggang kama, halos laging bitbit ko gitara ko. Hindi naman sa magaling ako tumugtog - isa ako sa pinakabano mag-gitara noon - pero lagi kong nararamdaman na may kanta para sa bawat okasyon. Hayskul ito: Mamaya-maya'y may inlab na binatang magrerequest ng "Pare Ko" ng Eraserheads, o may babaeng humihingi ng "Himala" ng Rivermaya.

Nariyan din ang pakiramdam na hindi ako mapakali dahil may kantang hindi ko kaya tugtugin - na kailangan ko kaagad kapain. Sa dami ng mga bagong kanta noong hayskul ako, lagi akong di-mapakali at praning.

Karamihan sa mga pinakamagaganda kong alaala noong hayskul ay kahit papaano'y naaalala ko sa gitara ko. Noong third year hayskul ako, tinuruan kong tumugtog ang best friend kong si Arun (na ngayo'y nasa DLSU na) ng simpleng kanta. Nang huli kaming magkita, halos malampasan na niya ako sa galing (ngunit hindi sa kaguwapuhan). Naka-ilang "gig" na rin kami niyan ni Arun: dose-dosenang mga debut, classroom jam sessions sa harapan ng teacher, jam session sa tabi ng main road, pati na rin sa mall at coffee shop. Kapansin-pansin sa aming dalawa na parehong laspag-sira na halos ang mga gitara namin, at na pareho kaming hindi marunong kumanta. Kaso okey lang sa amin yun - ang musika ay musika. Iyong mga araw na iyon siguro ang iilan sa pinakamasayang alaala sa buhay ko.

* * *

Ang alaala at panaginip ay parang pagsakay sa bisikleta o kaya ang pagmaneho ng kotse - akala mo ay nalimutan mo na kung paano ngunit biglang babalik sa iyo kapag kailangan mo.

Bukod sa gitara ko, ang kotse ko ang isa pang bagay na madaming binabalik na alaala. Tulad din ng gitara ko, halos linaspag ko na yung Starex na iyon sa dami ng beses na tinakas, hinarurot, at binangga (sa mga hindi gumagalaw na bagay tulad ng bato, pader, pedestal, atbp.!) ko ito. Ika nga ng kaibigan ko, "warcar" daw ang auto ko.

Simula nang natuto ako magdrive noong third year hayskul, ginawa na akong transpo ng bayan. Dahil ako lang ang may dalang malaking kotse, ako ang sadyang naging tsuper ng "schoolbus" patungo sa mga gimik namin. Noong umpisa, hanggang Alabang Town Center lang ang mga lakwatsa namin, dahil malapit sa eskwelahan. Paglipas ng panahon, palayo nang palayo ang inabot namin: Glorietta 4 at Greenbelt 3, Robinson's Galleria, Podium, Rockwell, Eastwood, Tagaytay, at Subic. Iilang libo na ang inabono ko sa diesel na hindi pa nababayaran ng mga nakikisakay sa akin, pero okey lang sakin. Masaya naman e. Pagtagal, natutunan na rin namin gawing inuman ang likod ng van tuwing wala kaming ibang lugar na puwede inuman.

Ngunit hindi lang ang mga gimik namin ang naaalala ko sa kotse ko. Kung alam ko lang sana na mas madali manligaw tuwing may kotse ka ay mas maaga sana ako natutong magmaneho. Ngunit totoo - sobrang plus pogi points ang dala ng pagdala ng sariling kotse sa mga date at party. Ang dami ring puwedeng gawin sa loob ng kotse: turuan ang kasintahan magmaneho; makinig ng radyo; at humiga at pagmasdan ang mga bituin. At alam mo ba - magiging parang kama na halos ang Starex kapag hiniga ang lahat ng mga upuan nito!

Masasabi kong sa loob ng Starex na iyon ako unang natutong umibig. Doon ako unang nagkaroon ng kasintahan; doon ako unang nakatikim ng matamis na halik; doon ako unang nakaramdam na may mahal ako at may nagmamahal din sa akin. Ngunit, doon rin ako unang sinabihan ng babaeng mahal ko na iiwanan na niya ako para sa ibang lalaki. Parang mga panaginip na lamang ang mga alaala ko mula sa panahong iyon.

Ngunit okey lang. Kampante akong may darating na ibang babae - ibang babae na uupo sa tabi ko at tutulungan akong lumikha ng bagong mga panaginip at alaala. Ang tagal nga lang niya.

* * *

Wala na akong mga bagong panaginip ngayon. Wala na akong tulog sa dami ng aking mga ginagawa sa kolehiyo.

Wala na akong mga bagong alaala. Pare-pareho lang ang nangyayari araw-araw; walang namumukod-tanging mga pangyayari na may karapatan maging mga alaalang itatago.

Minsan, tuwing napapaisip ako, hindi ko na nakikita ang pagkakaiba ng aking mga panaginip sa aking mga alaala. Hindi ko na alam kung totoo nga ang mga nangyari sa akin sa buhay ko, o gawa-gawa na lamang ng aking mapaglarong isipan. Ayaw ko nang isipin - lalong dumudulas ang katotohanan habang humihigpit ang hawak ko dito.

Siguro, pareho lang talaga ang dalawa, o kaya'y laging magkasama. Parang Kiko Matsing at Pong Pagong.

Ang alaala ay panaginip ay alaala.

Horny Bastards... err Bitches

2006-01-03T21:53:00.000+08:00

There I was, peacefully chatting on YM, when a swarm of flying ants suddenly decided to crawl over me.

FYI, flying ants are young queen ants off from the nest to find their drones and get fertilized. After their orgy, they lose their wings, drop to the ground, and start their own nests. Touching, really, but these crazy-ass horny bitches decided to fly their way up to the 15th floor of my condo and bug me. And believe me, I am pissed.

Thus:

Jay: ARGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG
kichivm: okay ka lang??
Jay: ARGG
Jay: binubugahan ko ng yosi
kichivm: haha
kichivm: umalis ba?
Jay: ayaww
kichivm: spray cologne
Jay: haha i tried foot spray
kichivm: haha
kichivm: did it work
Jay: THEY WENT CRAZY
Jay: godddddddd
kichivm: haha
kichivm: gross man
Jay: lighter tska cologne :D
kichivm: tama un
kichivm: cool!
kichivm: did u try?
kichivm: i wanna try!
kichivm: haha
kichivm: lighter and glade mas masaya!

tathaniise: WAHAHAHAHAH
Jay: ARGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG
tathaniise: mga minions ni simon!
Jay: gago sinisprayan ko ngayon ng foot spray
tathaniise: WAHAHAHAHAH
tathaniise: gago ka pala e
tathaniise: baka lalo lang maturn on yung mga yan
Jay: nde bumibigat cla
Jay: tpos binubugahan ko ng yosi
Jay: haha
Jay: lighter tsaka cologne
Jay: bwahahahahaa

dyeykster2000: quick shout for help from the seniors!!
dyeykster2000: ;;)
Jay: HELP ME SENIORS
dyeykster2000: ahihi
dyeykster2000: you are adorable jonats :D
dyeykster2000: hahaha
Jay: mwah :*

jinnipot_06: HAHAHAHAH WTF. okay ka lang?
Jay: HINDI
Jay: PUNYETA
Jay: ngayon nasa floor na silang lahat
Jay: bagong walis condo namin
jinnipot_06: hahahahaha
jinnipot_06: kawawa :P

In the Drunken Transition between the 7th and the 8th of December, 2005

2006-01-02T14:30:00.000+08:00

the smoke flutters into the air like
a hummingbird with one wing
from the balcony where we are talking,
over beer, of past lives, lost loves, and beauty.

maybe stars are where hummingbirds are laid to rest.

a belated post.

New Year's Day: On Thanksgiving and Fresh Starts

2006-01-01T20:23:00.000+08:00

i. Lessons

They say that New Year's Day is a time for looking back – for appreciating old (and new) friends, for being thankful for the blessings you’ve received in the previous year, for learning from the mistakes you made, and for remembering the events you made immortal in the form of the memories you kept, the stories you told, and the moments you shared with other people.

I'm going to start this post with an understatement: the previous year was not a good one for me. If you're curious, the only three that actually were are 7th grade (1998) - the most memorable, 3rd year high (2001) - the most successful, and my 2nd year of college (2004) - the happiest. Last year, to put it lightly, sucked while I was going through it, and in hindsight, it still sucks. But as New Year's Entries go, I guess I just have to plug my nose, put on my flippers, and dive feet-first into the cesspool that was 2005.

I can describe my experience of 2005 in three words: I grew up. It rhymes with "threw up", and it sure feels like it too.

In 2005:

I gave my best, and failed - dozens of times, believe me.

I trusted people, and I was betrayed, and yet I trusted again.

I loved - my God, did I love - and got my heart broken so badly that if you could’ve seen it, it would probably have been nothing more than a beating clump of clogged arteries, venal blood, rose petals, and pieces of glass.

I mourned with those who had lost loved ones, and mourned for one of my dearest friends (I miss you Ate Rej).

I got drunk, and I got high, and I got sick.

I failed, and I fought on - fighting the battle of those who had everything to lose.

I had a childhood dream shattered, and woke up in a cold sweat from a lot of new nightmares.

I lost my best friend, and rekindled relationships with old ones.

I got hurt, and disillusioned, and desperate, and I almost lost hope in life. And more than once, I wanted it all to end.

And yet, at the end of it all, I found that I had grown up, and I had survived. And most importantly, I had learned.

I learned, for instance, that there are different kinds of friends: there are "friends" - 'nuff said, and there are those people who you come across once or twice, and yet leave a permanent mark on your life; you have friends na pang-classroom lang, and friends na pang-inuman lang; you have your childhood friends, and you have your high school friends; and there are FRIENDS, who you'll be stupid to ever let go of. And I learned to value these friends - they are the Godsends who will celebrate with you when you're at your utmost best, will see you through your very worst, and will not be afraid to tell you when you are fucking your life up. Arun, Andrew, Kristina - maraming salamat.

I also learned to value my family - and God, do I love them. They took me in at my very weakest, nurtured me back to health, and loved me when I believed myself unlovable. And I swear – I am going to protect them with everything I could muster; God pity the person who tries to hurt them in any way.

I have learned to laugh – to laugh after failing a test, to laugh at myself, to laugh when I’m feeling vulnerable, to laugh out loud for absolutely no other reason than the fun of it, to laugh at the sheer absurdity of a situation, and to laugh after crying my heart out.

I have learned to cram, and to prioritize, and to sacrifice. I have learned to give without expecting anything in return. I learned how to make life-changing decisions, and to be responsible for their consequences. I learned that there are some things you just can’t do anything about, and that there are some things you just have to do something about.

Most importantly, I think that somewhere along the way I learned to hope again – to believe that things are still going to get better; to continue believing that if you want something badly enough, and if you try hard enough, you are going to get it; and to believe that people are inherently good and trustworthy. And call me a hopeless romantic, I still find that I continue to believe in love – all I have to do is look at my parents cuddling in bed, or holding hands while walking in the mall – and I swear, I want that, more than anything else.

I think… I have learned to live.

ii. Resolutions

They also say that New Year’s is for resolutions, fresh starts, second chances, and a new life. The weird thing about resolutions is that people often view them as goals that they have to achieve in the following year; rather, I think they're supposed to be formulated to resolve certain issues you had the previous year, or re-solve those that you weren't able to overcome. So here are my New Year's resolutions; and I don’t know why, but I’ve never felt this optimistic for the upcoming year.

Well, to start with, I think it’s time to fix my life again. I’m tired of my friends dragging me home from bars drunk every week; I’m tired of skipping classes because of spending the whole of the previous night thinking in bed; I’m tired of my roommates walking in on me, a wasted wreck on the sofa, and pitying me; and I’m tired of people asking me if I’m okay whenever I come into class with my eyes puffy.

It’s time to start over. For the third time in my life (and possibly the last), I’m graduating, and I’ll be damned if anyone takes my last year of school away from me. And such is my New Year’s resolution, if I was supposed to give just one: It’s time to stop taking things for granted.

It’s time to take my studies seriously again – and show those bastards what the old Jonathan was like, before he fucked up. It’s time to stop moping about not having gone abroad when I had the chance, and to start doing something about actually getting the chance again. It’s time to dream again – I still want that Ivy League MBA, more than ever before, actually – and believe me, I am going to do anything I could to get my grades back up. This time there won’t be any distractions.

I’m going to start seriously losing weight – after all, I do want to get to see my grandkids, and their kids. And I want to see the Philippines rise up from the ashes too. I want to see a cure for AIDS, and flying cars, and cities on the Moon.

Most importantly, perhaps, it’s time to move on. True, I never loved anyone as much as I loved her; never have I given so much of myself to another person; and never have I tried to be the best person I could for anyone else. True, no one else has inspired me the way she has – to write poetry and prose, to make music, to draw, to create, and to achieve; neither has anyone ever made me happier than she did. And I tried to be the best boyfriend, and the most perfect best friend I could for her because, well, I loved her. But something happened along the way, and I fucked up my life last year trying to find out just what that thing was – and now that I know what that something is, I realize that it’s not worth fighting for anymore. I’m actually starting to doubt that the whole relationship was, if the whole time she was capable of doing what she did. And so it all ends here. I honestly wish she and I could become friends again some time in the future, but I don’t think I could stomach it, after that. And so it’s time to move on. Thank you for the past three years, princess – it’s been a blast – and please take care of yourself, because I won’t be around to do that anymore.

And with that, it’s time to change. I think it’s time to stop using alcohol as an escape from reality, and as self-inflicted punishment for “the things I did wrong”, and to start using it to celebrate with friends, the way it should be used. And I think it’s seriously time to gradually stop smoking – I’m not getting any younger, anyway. However, I think long, interesting conversations with the friends I met through the habit are worth losing a few more minutes of my life for.

It’s time to travel around the Philippines, before we eventually destroy everything; it’s time to soak up the sun, and to lie wasted on the sand, all while listening to good old reggae and sipping Super Dry.

It’s time to meet more people, and to touch more lives, and to do what is right. And somewhere along the way, I hope to rediscover myself.

It’s time to enjoy, and to party, and to celebrate life! Cheers, people! Happy New Year!

iii. A Problem

I’m starting the New Year with a serious dilemma though – and after a few nights of thinking through it, I guess there’s no other course of action anyway.

I’m going to do what’s right.