Theory Of Devolution

Exactly an epoch ago, I was just a mere monkey criss-crossing the tree branches of the university. Back then, MP3 players such as i-Pod and Creative weren't still invented and hominids like me chatted with each other just to kill time, while waiting for the Neanderthal professor to arrive. An entire sundown would pass and when the Neanderthal suddenly doesn't arrive for the class, we would go into such kind of ecstasy, praising our soon-to-be-gods for letting the professor to be lost in the woods or mountain pass, or be devoured by some primitive carnivore while looking for our classroom across the caves. We never really saw how relevant it is to conduct classes - especially when that Neanderthal is the only one stopping us from swinging in the branches after class ends.

---

Six million years and two extinction events later, I found myself sitting on a chair, surrounded by kids debating about who's better - Bioman, or Maskman - which in reality, they haven't seen yet in their lives. A classmate decided to follow my footsteps and bought a much better MP3 player from Creative. Thirty minutes have passed, and still, the Neosapien instructor, hasn't arrived yet. Whether it be a teleportation device, or another gadget still unknown to man, we patiently waited, hoping she would arrive to conduct our classes.

In just single movement in the hand of the mother-watch, the students decided to pack up and leave the Neosapien teacher who is still missing-in-action after the intended waiting time for her to arrive. Perhaps, her transporter had a minor malfunction and instead of being transported as a human, she turned out to be an ant, or a butterfly who got easily attracted to the sight of the trees and plants surrounding our building.

Just like that, these kids joyfully left the room - chanting anime songs from their generation. What about me, who spent the entire hour travelling from my gym in Recto all the way to Diliman? What about me, who spent three thousand bucks just to pay for my own tuition fee coming from my own money? What about me, who spends around P200 pesos a day just to enjoy a humane existence among the trees of my university.

Do I deserve some consideration? All I'm asking is for them to realize that I'm making all my money's worth for this kind of investment.

If those kids would only feel how's it like to pay for your own education... If only the instructor would understand the value of time, the good manners of telling people waiting for her that she can't make it to class and if only, those people know how pain-in-the-ass it could be to be a working student.

Maybe the education system and culture here in this frigging country would be so much better.

UP ain't so different from my very own alma mater.

Lafftrip

It was already past midnight. His eyes were close to exploding since he has been in front of the monitor since early morning. After spending hours and hours of playing his new PC game and downloading tunes from Limewire, he decided to open his favorite website, the Wikipedia to infosurf once again and overload himself of trashy information.

Links after links, he found articles that would trace back to the early stirrings of the wikiproject. His research was so deep and profound that in the end, what he discovered is a treasure trove of information whose relevance far outweighs those he had found in wikipedia so far.

Presenting the Uncyclopedia*, the first silly editable free-source "encyclopedia" in the world.

---

"Uncyclopedia, "the content-free encyclopedia that anyone can edit,"[1] is a satirical parody of Wikipedia, though Uncyclopedia claims the reverse. The site was launched in January 2005 by Jonathan Huang and an unnamed counterpart (known to Uncyclopedia internals as 'Stillwaters' or 'Euniana'), and claims to be a project of the "Uncyclomedia Foundation", a fictitious parody of the Wikimedia Foundation.

The self-proclaimed mission of Uncyclopedia is to provide a SPOV, or Satirical Point of View in the wiki format. However, it frequently deviates from this goal, and produces humorous articles on all topics, most of which are not necessarily satire. Humor of all possible categories enters the wiki, prompting an equally freeflowing response; for example, the originally-vandalistic classification of articles.

Despite the open nature of Uncyclopedia, in which some vandalism can be considered positive, the Uncyclopedia itself suffers from vandalism similar to that of other wikis. For example, occasionally vandals will blank entire pages, insert spam, enter actual factual information (considered one of the most gruesome and inconsiderate gestures possible there), or add messages that specifically promote agendas such as spreading antisemitism, misogyny, racism, anti- or pro Christian bigotry, and homophobia beyond the intentions of tasteful parody. Although the site's editorial policies tend to be quite forgiving, Uncyclopedia's administrators are known to try to remove anything not up to the site's standards. They also ban vandals and other disruptive users."

---

Laughtrip na ito!!!

note:

*strictly recommended for psychos 10 years and above

High School Funk (Ending)

When I have finally brought mom to her classroom, I told her assistant who was with us to return to our service and leave without me. I decided to remain in the campus and do my business.

A few short walks from the main hall, and I arrived at a small cluster of maroon buildings fronting the university's main library. There, I was greeted by cheerfully busy midg... er... little boys and girls who were hanging out and doing all sorts of stuff - from reviewing for an exam to gossiping in front of their classrooms while waiting for teachers to arrive.

"Ah! The first year high school students!" I told myself. "Not so long ago, we used to do the same thing."

---

Back then when we were in first year, we would even play piko in front of our classroom in the morning. After classes, during our second year, we would rush to a nearby "computer center" outside the campus to rent a console and play Sega's Sonic the Hedgehog game. Later that year, we mustured enough courage to raid SM Centerpoint and spend the entire afternoon in the arcade games department. During the third and fourth year, I'd spend the rest of the afternoon playing primitive PC Games such as the early predecessors of Civilization IV and other strategy games available to my delight.

To be spotted in the school grounds when dark has finally settled means to be a "pakawala" - a deviance to our typical high school lifestyle. Sometimes, when the games I played turned out to be more challenging than the usual, I'd leave the computer shop at past 6 pm. For me, such time of the day is considered a little late for a high school student. Which in turn, messes up my routine at night. However, when I arrive home, nobody is around to complain for my late arrival, my parents would arrive far later at night.

---

At the high school grounds this morning, I directly went to the bullettin boards located at the middle building hallway connecting all the clusters of building together. Since my high school days, all past events and future announcements were posted in that bulletin board.

It was just the beginning of the school year and the most important event they had so far was the traditional orientation of the freshmen students. When I looked at the photos, I found out that most of my teachers back then were not around anymore. I later found out that many of them have retired or were promoted to teach in college. Instead, those who replaced them were younger ones. I had this inkling that I might be older than the new teachers that replaced the ones I had been with.

It was getting pretty late. I had an appointed at noon. Contrary to my habit of being shy during introductions, I mustered enough courage to wait in front of the faculty room and greet all the teachers who were coming out that I'm familiar with. The first one I saw was my Filipino Teacher back in second year. I approached her and instantly she remembered me. The same thing happened with my teacher in Math - who, during those times back when I was in high school was always upset with me.

You see, I think I am one of those rare students, who have managed to be at par with the brightest student in History, but at the same time, getting the lowest grade in Algebra among the entire batch.

But those were the days, when we saw each other, what remains are the good memories and the pleasantries we had.

Shortly after, I finally met my favorites - my teach in Salesmanship, who, my classmates accused of having favorites and my teacher in World History, the only subject I was determined to get the highest grade and unseat the reigning "historians" in my batch.

My teacher in salesmanship, who cried during graduation and told my parents that she would miss me, was very happy when she saw me this morning, the barriers between student and teacher was not there anymore so it didn't prevent me from giving her a hug. You see, my classmates accused her of having favorites because back then, she would always give me special attention while she teaches in class. In return, I took her subject seriously. Aside from History, Marketing was the second subject I excelled in.

As we were exchanging pleasantries, my teacher in History came out of the faculty room. Immediately, I called her name which, she heard quite immediately. Soon after, I was surrounded by most of my teachers who were available. I was an instant hit - especially when I told them that I made it to the masterals.

---

One thing about teachers is that they only fondly remembers those who excelled in their class. The quiet ones were easily forgotten as well as those who were simply mediocre. Those who fondly remembered me well, thus extending warmer reception than the rest of the other teachers were the ones I excelled in. It turns out, my World History teacher now teaches English and Literature as well.

When she knew that I'm taking up Creative Writing, she asked me if I could be a speaker to her book club someday.

"But I rarely read a book maam," I told her.

"It doesn't matter as long as you're a writer." She replied.

But am I a writer? Would this blog be a good measurement of my own writing skills? In fact, not a year ago, I was flunked by all online content-writing job applications I had with different companies. It so happened that somebody outside the BPO World noticed my skills that's why I secured my place, wherever I am right now.

Looking back, being a celebrity for 5 minutes and being remembered by your high school teachers was a breather. It makes you feel that you have achieved a big thing, when it fact, the only real achievement you have so far is being a worker and contributing taxes to the government. It would still take years before I could say something bigger...

I hope that by that time, I could already claim that I contribute to the magazines...

Hah, being a high-school book club speaker. I wish I am credible enough to be one - especially when it comes to writing.

High School Funk (Part One)

The year was 1998.

It was the year when Magic: The Gathering Cards were such a hit, the guys would hold secret card game sessions in a classroom beside the faculty room. The teachers would always get puzzled as to why that classroom's jalousie windows were always shut closed and why, even the boys from the other sections would frequent that classroom during breaktimes.

It was also the year when oldies music, which the students dubbed "sentis" would have a grand comeback. When somebody from the class brought his radio in school, the following afternoon after the class had ended, one could hear songs such as "Lately" by Stevie Wonder, "I Will Always Love You" by Michael Johnson and "Buttercup" by The Temptations being played over and over again.

The get-ups during that age were much simpler and more of an old school. No one knew what Emo means and Alternative Music was just about to hit the airwaves with Toad The Wet Sprocket's hit, "All I Want." To say a guy wears a cool get up means seeing him wearing a rugged striped shirt, faded tight jeans, Puma sneakers and a Khumbmela backpack.

Nobody in that batch were in a relationship with someone, and to be in one is considered uncool or at most, a hassle. Having a mobile phone means bringing along a shoebox-sized gadget, which hardly fit inside a teenage student slacks' pocket.

Back then, life was a little more rustic and uncomplicated. Most of the student's lives revolved around animes, which had its renewed wave two years before - with the rise of Yuyu Hakusho or Ghostfighter and Daimos in IBC 13, Sailormoon and Yaiba in ABC 5, and Magic Knight Rayearth in ABS-CBN.

And yes, back then, to know how to use Microsoft Word Windows 95 Edition is considered a genius.

I knew how to use one, and that is the kind of high-school life I grew up to.

---

The year is 2006.

Classes were just starting and after almost a year of not accompanying my mother going to class in the university where she teaches - which is also the campus where I studied in high school, I decided to join her this morning after I took a leave of absence from work.

While inside the elevator going to the fifth floor, I told my mom that I wanted to visit my high school after dreaming last night that I saw my teachers in elementary again. She encouraged me to push through with my plans to see them since its been years since I last stepped foot on our high school. However, I had second thoughts about pushing through because I was just wearing slippers and shorts and to appear like that in a formal institution would be a disgrace.

The elevators doors finally opened and interestingly, the only person who was waiting for that elevator to open on that floor was - a high school student from my school.

"I have my sign," I told my mom.

---

-tobecontinued-

Dream Journals Six (Repression Mode Edit)

I had the most bizzare dream last night.

In my dream, I was talking to a guy I haven't seen yet in real life. He looks rugged, with short dark hair, small piercing eyes, tanned skin and a moustache or those hairs you see on the face. We were having a conversation that ends up - in sex.

The sex, as far as I remembered was great. If only it was real. Hehe. Anyway, what makes this dream rather freaky is that I haven't been thinking of sex lately, as far as my conscious thoughts are concerned. Despite my relatively dull "activities" with my beau, the thought of... having some little dirty fun with someone else is far from my priorities (that is, as long as I could scare myself to death of my past actions) right now.

Anyway, I just hope that the dream I had is not a manifestation of my inner sleeping demons reminding me again that it's this time of the season when...

...libido is the great enemy.

Especially when most of the time, the messages or "invites" you recieve in G4M comes from people who are,

in every angle irresistable.

The Circle Goes On: White Party (Ending)

"Anyway, the entire Sangkabadingan converged at the spot where they first found a voice which is Orosa Street. As it was advised before, those who wanted to hide should avoid the event completely. The out-people would dominate the event so as much as possible, the closeted should forget going there. But boys will be boys, though most of them did not mingle with the epicenter crowd, they were all scattered in the area."

The White Party, June 27, 2004

___

Even the chairs and tables were not yet set-up on the streets when Roy, Bench and I arrived at the scene. At around 10:15 in the evening, the bars that were already filled to the brim were those from the straight ones only. The corner of Orosa and Nakpil, which during the past years were closed to traffic remains open. Perhaps, we could blame it to the culture: Gays begin their parties only after midnight. Or better yet, we should blame ourselves for being too early even though we know that fact about us already.

Since the streets were not crowded yet, the three of us decided to take a stroll in order to see the happenings going on inside the Orosa Courtyard - the spot where most of the gay-friendly bars are located. The whole facade of BED was draped in all white, as well as the awnings on top of the street across Komiks.

After satisfying ourselves of seeing the venues who participated in this annual event, we stood in front of Gilligan's where we could see everyone who passed along Nakpil St. That night, since Roy was wearing a green shirt instead of a white one, Bench teased him that all guys who wore green that night would have to kiss and hug Roy since we joked that boys with the same T-shirt color attracts together. So those who passed in front of us, whether the person was gay or straight was being referred to our green-shirted friend. It was practically an okrayan session where the object of the fun were the get-ups and looks of people who were at the party. I guess everyone were doing the same pastime at that moment.

Not just us.

You see, a friend once told me that gay fads are invented during this time of the year. If someone attended a gay pride or black party wearing a fitting black sleeveless shirt with Buddha Beads and a couple of silver earrings and it turned out to be a scene-stealer, probably everyone would copy the same get-up and use it everytime they show up in the weekly party scene. It could be the reason why during last 2002, many guys I met in Mint were wearing a black sleeveless shirt and a tight fitting dark pants.

So far this year, we haven't seen the scene stealer yet.

For two hours, we just stood at different spots within the Orosa-Nakpil area. Bench was already begging us to find a table and buy a drink since he was getting tired already. Actually the reason why our booze session didn't start early this year was because we had to wait for several other people to join us. Unlike last year where we had a huge OUTsider contingent attending the White Party, this year, attendance to the party was more of a private event. We knew that many among our breathren were not interested. In fact, if XP wasn't that insistent about our promise last year to attend this year's party together, perhaps, Roy and I would have been absent as well this year. Even Bench, who joined unexpectedly turned out to be a huge surprise.

To take advantage of the White Party, even the straight bars who began to invade the traditional gay area of Orosa just recently began to put up tables and chairs too. Since Gilligan's was already full, we took advantage of the available seats at the opposite area of the stage. We got a table close to the dance floor and ordered a bottle of San Mig Light that only cost 40 pesos.

What a great bargain, considering that I just brought with me less than a hundred pesos to spend that night.

The party begins to heat up at around past 1 am. Unlike before, there were no formal program, no theme and no host. Those who performed were not even popular. A guy, who sang rock ballads on the stage made my head swirl. I was already drunk and terribly sleepy, yet I haven't seen the kind of action I was waiting for. It took me another 30 minutes of conditioning before I found myself raving at the center of the dance floor.

However, in just less than an hour after I had a lust-filled close-contact dirty dancing with two girls (that turned out to be a tranny) who noticed me while grooving alone, I decided to leave earlier than XP and Bench so that I could prepare for work the following morning.

---

Looking back, this year's party could be considered surreal. There is this funny saying circulating among gay people that says, "bakit ang mga bading, hindi naman nanganganak pero dumarami?" That night, after seeing a bunch of teeny-bopper boys attending the white party perhaps for the first time, I've realized that our generation has come to an end. Just like the ones who came before us who grew up in Malate, I think most of us have come to a point where the party nights gradually stops and take a back seat, while career and a homecentric lifestyle takes prominence.

No wonder, the last two G4M free-entrance parties I attended in BED before were dominated by kids and not by adults. In fact, that night, I discovered that the Fluids bar in Orosa is a favorite hang-out of kids. It seems like as you grow older, your taste when it comes to partying and going out becomes more refined and sophisticated.

Despite my inner cravings to go to the dance floor earlier than the rest of my group, I decided to drink a couple more bottles of beer before heading to the crowd of party animals. Indeed, my concept of a night out is beginning to change as well.

---

Also that night, I met several guys, who I would avoid in the past because of my newfound preference. Beginning last year when I greeted a former straight classmate "Happy Pride" during the White Party, I lowered my barries and relaxed my restrictions when it comes to exposing myself. I even hugged my campy former Vice-President back in college when I saw him dancing with his friends which I could have never done three years ago. I did the same thing when I met the juniors from my major who once were my ex-girlfriend's associates during our society elections.

In the end, after I showed my support to the pride spirit, I got the most assuring compliment I had so far this year. One of the older guys I've mentioned in my Kuya entry decided to see me that night. Since I already had this idea that he is a very masculine bisexual guy, I told myself to match his masculinity even though at this exposure, I am considered an out-gay already.

With such levels of outness, I could have failed the screening test the MIrC group #manhood administers to their new members years ago.

Anyway, my new "kuya" and I met and had a conversation for 30 minutes. We briefly talked about his life, his activities in G4M and his upcoming sports competion before he and his friend decided to leave the scene. What made me very happy was that he told me after our meet up that I look more masculine than he had expected.

Being a sporty guy that he is, the fact that he invited me for a drink after his training ends in August is a complement. I hope that by that time, I won't just equally match his masculinity - even if it's impossible, I would love to match his hunkiness as well.

---

The White Party this year, despite it's obvious bleakness compared to the previous one remains a great milestone for me. Aside from meeting old friends, such as Chuayjai and Chris; previous gay acquaintances who I have met during my straight life - my ex VP and the VP External of the Student Council; new meet-ups such as my premature eyeball with Sinbad from G4M and dancing with two transvestites which I have mistaken for girls; the White Party remains a good avenue to show my pride with regards to my homosexual heritage, which I nurtured for the past four years.

Like many guys from my generation, we are already at a point where slowly, we begin to return to our closets not as confused individuals but guys who have found their answers regarding their preferences. Gone are the days of hiding because of fear. Now it's back to our own little closets so that we could focus more on the future we would like to have someday. Staying close to the closet is also a good way to consolidate the friendships we found while seeking for the answers about our preference.

Bench was right about his observation while the three of us were walking along Bocobo going to the venue. Indeed, seeing Ratsky, Cognac and Gordon Bleu after so many years would always remain a nostalgic reminder of our past malate existence

If there are changes in Malate, it would simply be us.

our time had passed, Malate now belongs to the next generation.

Back When Stonewall Wasn't A Memory: White Party (Part I)

"I've met a former classmate, a former co-trainee, and an officemate. Kung dati super kabog ako kapag may kakilala akong nandun sa ganung event, ngayon ako pa ang humihirit ng "Happy Pride Pareh!" Never did I experience this much pride about my preference, kahit na maraming panahon, tinatanong ko pa rin sa sarili ko kung ano ang kakauwian ko sa pagiging ganito."

- Manna From Heaven Ending, June 27, 2005

---

They arrived like hordes of ubiquitous costumed creatures coming from all directions. There were those who donned the formal attire - a white shirt or polo and pants as well. Others wore their typical party gear as if simply attending an event on a saturday night. Many came with their lovers and fuck-friends, while there were those who were brave enough brought their entire federation along - parading like beauty pageant contestants making their way into the crowded gay-filled area of Nakpil corner Orosa street in Malate.

They came because it was a massive annual gay event. Probably, some came to see old friends and acquaint themselves with new ones. There are a thousand and one reasons for being there that night, but as Eon puts it, do these gay people really know why such an annual party takes place every June?

Around four gay generations ago at the height of the Hippie movement the world was experiencing at that time, a typical gay party was held in a place not so different from BED, Government or even O Bar of our time. The place was called Stonewall and during those times, being gay is still considered a taboo in the western society. Typical police raids, like what they do in Alta Cinema and other sleazy places of today regularly takes place in that bar. It was probably like, an opening act every time a major get together event takes place within the confines of the place.

Things were not really pleasant for the gay people of that generation. Most of them are in hiding - raising families and keeping a very low profile while in public. Some of these men addressed their need by using boys or other men in hiding to satisfy their inner cravings. It was a closely, well kept-secret among men and society kept a blind eye on these activities. As long as these men would never consider themselves gay, they are safe from everyone. Those who accepted themselves as different were seen as an abomination. Society never saw them as people who have rights and dignities.

These out-men were almost denied of their humanity, and the only reason they existed is because they knew all along that they were different. The police raids were relentless. Arrest were given to men who were caught kissing each other, holding their hands in public and even by acting flambouyant and campy alone in a straight-dominated environment. Basically all gay men in New York were used to such raids and arrests that even Stonewall can manage to open after a raid took place. It was an enduring fight for existence until one night, weeks after the death of a celebrated gay icon of that time, Judy Garland happened.

These gay people who were stripped of their rights to exist decided to stand up and resist the abuse and torment of the police and the society once and for all.

Thus the Stonewall Rebellion took place.

The rebellion happened in a span of several consecutive nights after an initial raid that happened on June 27. History tells us that it was the effeminates and the drag queens who lead the resistance and even the lesbians, who rarely takes part on every White Parties nowadays were the first to encourage every gay person around Stonewall to take arms.

The rebellion was eventually controlled by the riot police after the fourth night, but such act of defiance spread like paper on fire across the globe that in just a matter of four decades after it happened, gay marriages are becoming legal and accepted in some parts of the world.

---

Yet the story never ends there.

Still, there is much to change at how the world thinks about homosexual people. Even homosexual themselves in some cultures like ours clashed among themselves. Though, never again will the gays be silenced by ignorance, their enemies remain strong and persecution remains in most parts of the globe.

And despite different interpretations and comments about this year's white party, the fact that it was attended by a notable spectrum of the community from transvestites, to drag queens, to parloristas and gay yuppies; even the discreet and closeted ones who kept their presence in dark corners and straight bars that surrounded the area, it shows that the enduring blaze from those gay guys who made the rebellion that became a turning point still remains today.

Kuya

Minsan isang panahon, nakita ko ang sarili ko na nagbabasa ng isang libro sa loob ng library ng aming paaralan. Grade six ako noon, soloista at mahilig tumambay sa pagitan ng dalawang naglalakihang bookshelves kung saan walang nakakakitang tao sa akin. Isang tanghali, may mga lower grade pupils na nagtatakbuhan sa aisle kung saan ako malapit. Dahil naiistorbo nila ang pagbabasa ko ng encyclopedia noon, sinita ko sila para tumahimik. Nagpulasan ang mga bata at biglang tumahimik ang paligid. Ngunit may isa pala sa kanilang natira at nangahas na lumapit sa akin.

Hindi ko na matandaan kung ano ang mga tinanong niya sa akin. Hindi ko na rin maalala ang kanyang mukha, ang kanyang pangalan, o kung anong section siya nabibilang. Pero ang hindi ko makalimutang tinanong niya sa akin ay kung maari ba niya akong maging kuya... na madali ko namang pinaunlakan sapagkat gusto ko na rin siyang umalis sa tabi ko.

Natapos ang buong school year, ilang beses pa kaming nagkatama ng landas. Hindi ko matandaan ang kanyang mukha o ang kanyang pangalan pero sa harap ng kanyang mga kaklase, pinagmamalaki niya ako bilang kuya, kahit hindi niya alam na sa batch ko, isa ako sa mga looser at outcast noon, taas noo pa rin niya akong tinawag na kuya. Nang malapit na ang graduation, binalak ko siyang hanapin upang magpaalam at magpasalamat. Balak ko sanang ibigay sa kanya ang isa sa aking pinakatatagong Matchbox na kotche-kotchehan upang maalala man lang niya ako hanggang pagtanda.

Sa kasamaang palad hindi ko na siya nakita. Pero nakalipas na ang maraming panahon, natatandaan ko pa rin ang aming unang tagpuan.

---

Twelve years had passed and I still remembered the boy. Probably, failing to say goodbye to him remained one of my greatest guilt, now that I am beginning to feel myself in his shoes. There were times, when things get really tough, I'd tell myself how I wish I had a big brother. If only there would be someone who could protect me when things are a little bit beyond my control, I think I would be the happiest man alive.

Lately, I get acquainted with guys older than me. One such example was Euphoria Boy, who I still see in the faces of many chinito guys that pass in front of me. There's also Papu, who I never fail to mention whenever I give gay101 lessons to newbies I chat with in PEx. The list of older guys goes on and on, and one thing that is common among all of them is that somehow, I get attracted or heavily attached to these guys I get acquainted with.

With the exception of Papu of course.

Mama would warn me that I should set an example as a big brother to my little sister since, she has this tendency to get attracted to older guys as well. I'm not sure of the reasons behind my sister's apparent preference for older guys. Probably, she was so attached to my dad when he was still alive that my sister still seeks him in the guys who comes along her way. I don't know, I just don't open this discussion with anyone... except here in my blog.

---

When dad died last year, I became the man of the house. Believe me, such task demands contant vigil and utmost responsibility. There were nights you would suffer sleeplessness thinking about how would your family survive without you. Some nights, I would think about how would I earn bigger money so that I could stand on my own, without the sikyu agency's assistance.

Good thing, we have a lesbian driver to act as the brute force when I am not around. Together with her sidekick, an older guy who used to be my tutor and my mom's former student when I was still in high school, they serve as my mom's external hands and feet when she can't do the task she needs to do.

I admit, that in many situations I remain weak. I could be a potent force when I am part of the household but what if I am not around? What if the challenges are so impossible to resolve to the point I would feel helpless and alone as well? These are the things that constantly distracts my mind whenever I feel insecure...

And when I feel insecure, my usual escape is to imagine some kuya material dodging the projectiles which I could not take anymore.

---

I remembered writing an entry about this same feelings not so long ago. But I also admitted in that entry that after looking for a big brother material all my life, I have realized that I became the kuya I am looking for. The apparent uniqueness of character I have; my desire to be ahead of a situation even before it happens and the way I became a man of the house says it all. I am no longer the happy-go-lucky person who's only concern is his own life and nothing more.

All those traits I've mentioned are the things I'm looking for in a man I would look up to. I think, after admitting that I found those traits in me, there is one single thing I am still looking for: the capability to steer one's own life according to his will.

So far I haven't done that yet.

These past few weeks, I have been exchanging private messages with two older guys in G4M. One is an accountant and a separated dad working in Mindanao and one is a businessman and a sports buff here in Manila. Both of them are deep, wild, chinito and top. Although I haven't met them yet, and as much as possible, I try to make our conversation more of a brotherly one. But lately, I have this inkling that I started having hots for them as well. Even in daydreams, I'd like to see myself under their enlightened guidance.

It seems like having a big brother or an older companion remains embedded deep in my psyche. It felt like the never ending search for someone stronger, wiser and wilder has once again awakened my sleeping thoughts about what if... I have a kuya? What if I'm not the one to be in charge all the time? And what if I have an older buddy as a lover, would things be easier?

Perhaps this is just a mere daydream aspiration created to artificially fill the void I am feeling...

and defend myself in times I can't stand on my own feet.

---

In times like this, I remember the boy. How I wish I had been more enthusiastic to be his big brother, now that years after, I'd end up constantly seeking for one.

Bunny Interludes Ten

Give me a reason to love you

Give me a reason to be ee,

a woman,

I just wanna be a woman

- Portishead, Glorybox

---

For some reasons, the song above played on my head as it played on my mp3 player while I was crossing the street going home from the gym yesterday evening. Picture a tall, stocky guy wearing a light blue jogging pants and rugged dark blue t-shirt that exposes parts of his biceps and shoulders while singing this song as pedestrians walked in front of him.

After much speculation whether I'd transfer to another gym after my former instructor's colleague told me that he would be leaving as well, or whether I'd scrap the whole work-out project altogether; In one sweeping swiping of my plastic, I decided to extend my gym membership for another three months. That means I'd be forced to work-out even though I feel so burned out already.

But there is a twist to my new arrangement. Instead of going to the gym three times a week, I just paid for eight sessions a month which roughly translates to twice a weeks worth of gym access. I told myself than since I have this new habit of walking the entire stretch of Katipunan from UP to Aurora whenever I go home from school, maybe a deduction of sessions in the gym would save my entire project from being scrapped thanks to my growing lack of interest of continuing my session.

After paying for my dues, I went directly to the gym instructor in charge which is my former instructor's colleague and asked him to give me a new program for my new work-out schedule. He immediately complied and soon after I finished my 30-minute cardio, I got my new program.

Compared to the old one, this new program was designed for muscle-building. It means I would be pumping iron that would hopefully, give my chest, biceps, back and shoulders a much sleeker and firmer form. My initial plan was to shift to this program when I get to 160, but with the change of workout schedule, the initial plan had to go.

And what I did was pure hell.

Unlike my old routine which requires me to lift lighter weights with a higher number of reps, the new one would make me lift weights that are thrice heavier than the one I used to lift. It would require me to seek spotters all the time since my body is not adopted to such kind of strain. In fact, there was this one set which I would have to do an inclined bench press and a 12-rep pecs exercise without taking a rest. The gym instructor told me that I'm doing a "super-set" but I'd rather call it "glory be to the father set" due to the frequency I told myself "oh-my-god-how-would-I-lift-such-heavy-weight" kinda thing.

Anyways I guess you have an idea how extremely streneous my new program is. In fact, I thought I would get muscle cramps all over my upper body when I woke up this morning. Fortunately and surprisingly, my body appeared to adjust pretty well to the new program. If all goes well, my instructor told me that I might get a leaner and firmer frame by October. I would eventually be the one that will put my work-out project in a different kind of level after all.

But you know what, as I am beginning to see the results of my program, I begin to wonder why I am doing this work-out thing in the first place. Is it because of health? Im not sure if it is the main reason. Is it because of my clubbing activities? Not right now, in fact, I'm beginning to get tired of night-outs already. So what then, is it for sex? Initially yes, but when you begin to scare yourself out with your long past "irresponsibilities" no matter how relatively minor they were, you begin to loose interests in hook-up invitations eventually.

Even though you declined almost all of them even during your haydays.

So here I am extending my program for up to three months once again. Gone are the days of proving myself since I have already proven everything to those who have doubted me before. In fact, the only direction, or principle I can see myself clinging on to right now for doing this work-out thing again is the commitment.

I have already done too many things that revolutionized my lifestyle this year and I believe that as months come, I would have done more. Why stop now, when the momentum remains on an all time high?

Perhaps, part of the momentum is this work-out project, it must go on so that I would still have the drive to achieve as what I planned to do, or loose everything like stacks of dominoes dropping one by one.

Smart Alec

Dear Punks,

By the end of your academic project, you should be able to write like your professor does... or at least better than what you are producing now. I am posting her poem so that whenever you get to read this, you will be reminded that you are already within the courtyard of the gods. It is up to you to follow their footsteps... or footprints, if you are willing enough to learn from them.

Burn, and rise above your ashes.

Autobiography

by Conchitina Cruz

While you wait for the inevitable hour of loss, the man in the book tips his hat to the protagonist who has asked for directions to the subway. You follow him before he disappears in the crowd. Because you don't want to be lost, you clutch his elbow, slip your hand inside his coat pocket. In the story of your life with the man in the book, there is a bench in the park reserved only for you. Everything else on the way is atmosphere: the headlines, the traffic lights, the vendor of marionettes. Somewhere, maybe a phone will ring, maybe someone will put her hand on your shoulder and tell you the news you've been waiting for, but that is another life. Here you are, smiling at the man who buys you a puppy on strings, crossing the street with your little family, the wooden dog strutting by your feet. Here you are, sitting on a bench as the man rubs your back and reads the paper, and it is warm in the city, it seems to get warmer each day.

Stand Up, Face The Moonlight

She was extremely ecstatic when she arrived home from school. It is as if, she won the lottery or something. In fact, it was one of those rare moments I could feel her eyes gleaming by the mere sound of her voice talking from across the room, hers sounded of a victory, an ignominous victory knew by only those who doesn't see life closer to reality.

Prior to her arrival, my mom halfheartedly told me what happened yesterday afternoon in her campus. It appears that the President went to their "hospital" as a guest of honor to some new additional "medical" room that was opened there. Fine, she is the President so she can go wherever she wants to. And since she is quite an unpopular one these days, her critics would always find an opportunity to mess up her rather boring and ordinary day.

Here comes my sister and her groupies. It was as if the commotion was unplanned. As the President was about to enter her presidential car and join the motorcade, they began shouting at her. It was about the usual, monotonous issues. As others were complaining about the tuition fee increase, some others where crying for a wage hike. Soon the policemen who were in the area noticed them and started disbanding their little "tea party." It ended up with several arrests of prominent people (students) involved in such lightning protest.

---

When my sister and I got to talk last night, I voiced out my opposition to their rather rowdy tea party. It's like the same stupid media-spotlight activity done by that high school girl from Cavite. To be honest, I don't find anything commendable in messing up such a very dignified ceremony. If she had complains with the government, I'd rather advise her to do well in school and move to another country when she graduates from college.

The same thing with my sister. Between you and me, we always get into heated arguments whenever she talks about her movement and her beliefs. It sounded too idealistic for someone like me who greats real life every morning. Why join such protest rallies when all it results to are traffic, rowdy dispersals, disruption of classes and work and destruction of lives?

In fact, just to taunt her sometimes, I would tell in her face how much I love living in a capitalist, materialistic world, even if I don't see my life living in one. I'd even say to her face how contradicting her movement is from its core beliefs in hopes that I would somehow damage her ego. Mom's approach is rather different, being in the same movement before, she understands the flame of idealism emanating from my sister's bloody red mind.

Though she's pretty opposed to her activities, mom manages to compromise with her.

---

When I saw her groupmates last night in the late night news, I simply felt disgusted with their actions. There was this one guy who was caught by the police. He was obviously shaking and afraid to the point of denying his involvement in their lightning rally. As others berated at the police claiming that they're in this school and that they have the right to voice out their sentiments against the governement, several other people were escorted by the police to a private car waiting in the parking lot.

A girl and a guy who was also involved in the tea party manages to sneak fast under the policemen's noses in hopes that they could free those who were caught. The guy who was my sister's mentor was even chased by other policemen to be brought to the police department together with those other who were earlier arrested by the security force.

I was terribly ashamed I'd tell you. Those guys should go back to their classrooms instead... If they could not stand up to what they believed in. The first guy who denied his involvement in their movement reminds me of that apostle who denied his ties with Jesus. The so called mentor, who ran away while the policemen chased after him turns out to have no balls at all.

And that girl who said she's studying in this school and it's their right to say whatever they wants to say must be immediately thrown in a convent in the remote provinces. The hell, who said studying in that school offers you the protection and the right to say what you want to say? Girl, I'm studying in that school too and you know what, I think it's a priviledge being there in the first place. Who are you to bite the hand that gives you a far better future than the rest of the students like you?

You should be thankful with the government. Not all students are blessed with such great opportunity.

---

In the end, I think they got the media exposure they wanted to have. Perhaps the reason why my sister was so ecstatic last night was because they've got the level of propaganda they are aiming for.

But in the eyes of an ordinary "thinking" worker like me, I guess what they did there is pure bullshit. Did they achieve something aside from the propaganda and the media exposure? I think not. All I saw was a bunch of spoiled, rebellious brats who had nothing to do with life except complain about everything.

In a woeful time of rising oil and gasoline prices, increasing crime rates and violence, threat of terrorism and joblessness, massive influx of pinoys going out of the country resulting to a serious brain drain. The least thing the government needs now is an embarrasing opposition like them. Don't get me wrong, I do have issues with the government as well. In fact, I'd love to see Raul Gonzales being humiliated and embarassed on national television at least once in my lifetime.

But to see people like what my sister hangs out with doing those crazy stuff is an insult, not only to my worker status but to my humanity as well. To see an unproductive, supposed to be intelligent minority wasting their lives in such a hopeless cause is rather bit unfair. Too see brilliant minds leaving the city to join the rebels high up in the mountains only to die in the hands of the military is such a sorry sight to see.

And yet if I was there yesterday afternoon and saw my sister being dragged by the policemen to a waiting car, I swear, I would approach the officers chin up and tell them, "boys, take me instead."

"I'd like my sister to learn that for every folly she does, someone would have to pay the price for it. I'd like to let her feel how's it like loosing someone who earns a living just to see his entire family live comfortably for another day."

Language Barrier

Minsan isang hapon sa tapat ng bangko kung saan pinapa-encash namin ang aming mga sweldo:

"Nak, grabe ang julaki sa bago kong apartment. Naku, magsasawa talaga ang bunganga mo sa mga pahada." Sabi ni Dexter na biglang tumabi sa akin.

"O talaga? Baka naman mga tambay yan" Hirit ko naman sa kanya na para bang walang bago sa kanyang kwento. Sabagay nga naman, sa aming tatlong PLU sa opisina eh siya lagi ang may booking. Ngayong may bago na siyang tinitirhang apartment na nakatayo sa gitna ng squatter's colony ng Mandaluyong, hindi nakakapagtaka na bebenta ang ganda niya dun.

"Uu kaya, kahapon lang eh nakatatlo kaagad ako" Bawi naman ni Dexter na mukhang proud na proud pa sa kanyang achievement.

"Edi hindi ka na dadayong Baclaran niyan? " Sagot ko naman habang hinahanap ang isa pa naming kasamang bading na si Jimbo.

"Oi ano ka, siyempre tuloy ang aking pagluhod sa sinehan." Sa loob loob ko, talagang hindi na magbabago itong si Dexter sa kanyang style. Sabagay, matanda na kasi.

"Nabona ka ba naman ng mga lalaking nauwi mo?" Tanong ko muli sa kanya na para bang hindi bilib sa kanyang kwento.

"Oo naman siyempre, may kasamang bona na yun." Ang bakla talaga, parang may nahukay na ginto ni Yamashita sa kanyang tuwa.

"Edi masaya." Pasimple kong bawi sa kanya dahil nga napapalibutan kami ng mga straight naming mga kasama sa morning shift. Palibhasa kasi sila eh, kumportable mag-tuklingan sa opisna, tuloy lagi akong napapagiwanan sa mga eksena.

Habang patuloy kami sa usapang bona, biglang sumingit sa aming diskusyones itong isang bagong salta sa aming kumpanya na kaibigan ni Senti Boy.

"Yung bona ba eh yun yung sa Bonakid?" Hirit ni lalaki na tatawagin nating alyas Boyband dahil sa kanyang kapansin pansin na get up.

"Ano daw?" Sabay lingon ko sa kanya ng buong pagtataka at pagkamangha. Ang mga straights nga naman. Buti na lang at nauso ang gay linggo. Tama nga ang sabi sa akin, basta fluent ka sa salita ng mga bading, malayo ang iyong mararating.

"Narinig ko kasi na naguusap kayo tungkol sa Bona, diba salitang bakla yan?"

"Okaaay... nako alam ba ng barkada mo na nacucurious ka sa usapan namin?" Baling ko sa kanya habang hirit naman ng hirit itong si Dexter na bonahin daw siya ni lalaki.

---

Hindi doon nagtapos ang aming munting usapan. Eventually napilitan rin akong ikwento kay Boyband na ang bona ay gayspeak para sa anal sex. Sa kakaasar nitong si Dexter tungkol sa pagpapabona nito sa lalaking kausap namin, napunta ang usapan tungkol sa panonood ng sinehan. Sa hindi malamang kadahilanan, biglang nahirit nitong si Boyband na dati-rati ay madalaw daw siya manood ng sine mag isa sa Ali Mall.

Hmmmmm...

Sa bandang huli, napilitan na rin kaming magsipagpulasan sa aming kinauupuan. Si Boyband ay sumama na sa kanyang mga tropa at samantalang si Dexter naman ay nanood muli ng sine kung saan. Mukhang balak pa kumota noong aming swelduhan.

At ako'y naiwang naglalakad mag-isa papunta sa aking bangko. Nagmumuni habang natatawa...

Parang kailan lang, takot pa si ex na malaman kong fluent siya sa gayspeak.

Sinong mag-aakalang pagkaraan ng tatlong taon, basahin ko man from cover to cover ang blog ni Wanda at ni Badinggerzie, effortless na para sa akin ang magtranslate ng kanilang sinulat.

Daydream Recalibration

A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step

– Lao Tzu

---

The afternoon rains must have been a curse. I was all dressed up and excited for the first day of classes and when I arrived there, all that is waiting for me is a handful of students inside a small classroom and a teacher's table that is empty. Indeed, it must be the local academic culture that is at work here. I should have known better that during the first day of school, professors rarely comes to see the students.

After all these years of slave work, I have now casted my eyes in some academic pursuits - which I never dreamed of doing in my life. Ask me what my plans are last year and I would tell you that enrolling in a graduate school is the least of my priorities.

Until this afternoon, I still cannot believe that I have actually made it; That my name is already on their official lists of students, and that despite all the doubts on me throughout the years, I ended up getting the same spot everyone in the family tries to get. As Papu puts it, probably being in the creative writing is my calling.

So what now?

Honestly, I haven't figured out what to do now that the school season has begun. I'm not going to have this impression that Creative Writing is all about writing all throughout. Probably there would be something more... hopefully I would learn more.

And in the years beyond, I would aim to have that sweet spot in an advertising or PR company who would take me. I would perhaps write feature stories for a Sunday paper or some start-up magazine, which would eventually become big someday. I might become an instructor or a professor back in UST now that I have secured an opportunity to be part of the graduate school program.

The dreams and possibilities are endless, so as the failures and disillusionments. If all goes well according to plan, I might actually achieve my three aims this year: To loose a considerable amount of weight, to have some side projects that would benefit me someday, and to find a new career that would provide me with bigger and promising opportunities.

Because you know why, for some reasons I feel that 24 would be my last chance to make things happen according to my plans. I have sacrificed so many years abandoning my previous dreams and if I can't hold on to my promise this year, I'm afraid that all my promises after would end up in vain. I might actually spend a life wasted if I don't change my act now.

That's why I haven't surrendered my gym yet. And it is also the reason why I'm trying to improve my work in the office... and if I would find a strong drive to do good this first semester, probably those promises as well would be a good motivation.

In the end, all I am asking is a life full of sense of everything.

---

Yet, on the other hand, I know... I am afraid I could not have it all. Somewhere, I would have to choose what's the most important for me.

And if God would ask me what do I really aspire in my life at the moment,

I would simply answer,

To make my mom feel complete.

And let her live a life she truly deserves.

After all, it is what's my life is all about. She may often tell us that her reason for living and achieving everything is because of us.

She might not notice... but she is my reason for living a sane life as well.

Whatever comes after is beyond daydream,

at most I might consider it an aimless, nightmarish chaos.

Motherly

I asked a cousin to tell us a story about his most depressing experience while on duty in the hospital. You see, this cousin of mine is a Medical Student and knowing how depressing it is sometimes to work in such environment, he sure got a couple of sad stories to tell.

---

It happened when he was assigned in the delivery room of a government hospital. Unlike in most private and expensive hospitals in the country, the conditions in the public ones were mostly far from being adequate. There was this early forties lady who was currently having a labor. Compared to other soon-to-be mothers in the room, hers was a complicated one. She was the loudest and the most vocal patient to complain about the excruciating pain she is experiencing while giving birth. Her voice was so loud and irritating that the attending resident shouted at her since the resident thought that the woman was merely acting up because of her labor.

However, the woman continued screaming not only because of the pain but she was also having a difficulty breathing as well. To give birth at her advanced age entails a lot of complications, which the attending doctors would soon find out.

After several hours of continuous labor, the attending physicians decided to perform a Caesarian operation on the woman. The operation went well... however the infant began showing signs of fetal distress. Almost immediately, the infant's heartbeat began to slow down until it was no longer visible. The residents performed several resuscitation attempts which all failed. As soon as the infant was delivered, it was pronounced dead.

---

The woman regained consciousness soon after while the physicians were closing the last remaining stitches on her tummy. Her first words were according to my cousin was, "nasan na ang baby ko?" while showing signs of severe weakness. "mommy, sorry po..." were the only words the residents could reply to her. The mother immediately knew what happened. It turns out that she's been waiting for the child after 22 years of attempting to have one.

Soon after, her vital signs plummeted. For no reason at all, it simply destabilized. Everyone in the delivery room began to panic. As others performed revival procedures to her, some were continously monitoring her response. The woman fortunately stabilized after and while recovering, my cousin decided to take a nap after a very toxic night in the delivery room.

He woke up 30 minutes after as the entire department was showing signs of emergency. The same woman who they revived earlier showed vital signs of near zero. Once again, the doctors performed revival procedures, which her body doesn't respond to. Since most of the physicians who were present were already showing signs of fatigue attending her, my cousin who just woke up was asked to continue performing the resuciation to revive her.

In his thoughts, he kept on remembering the resident who shouted at the woman he is reviving while she was having a labor several hours ago. As he pictured in his mind how the woman waited nine months and 22 years only to loose the child at the very last moment made him realize that it wasn't the complication alone that lead to the sudden failure of the woman's vital signs - it was the lack of reason to live that made her shut down all her body functions and surrender herself to her weakening condition.

What made him sad was the fact that perhaps the woman might have arrived in the hospital all excited for the moment she would see her child. Perhaps she even made a great deal of preparation in welcoming her child in this world.

After so many attempts in reviving her, the authorities declared the woman dead. It turns out that the reason why she was screaming and complaining that she can't breathe before was because of a rare and very fatal obstetric complication. Apparently, her amniotic sac burst and the fluids went to her bloodstream that blocked the blood going to her lungs.

Although my cousin had not directly attended the patient while she was still having a labor, it was his first true experience of loosing a patient while on duty. What made him feel guilty was he joined the group of residents who "told" the woman to calm down, in a very unheartwarming way. His mother, who is a surgeon said after that the complications of the woman who was supposed to give birth has no cure or prevention. It happens at random, very rare and always fatal.

She further added that in Tagalog, there is this saying that says "kapag nanganganak ang isang babae, ang isang paa nito ay laging nasa hukay." The story which my cousin experienced was a perfect, face to face example of that saying.

---

As I reflected on it while on my way home after our reunion this evening, I cannot help but ask myself why some kids got the nerve to treat their mothers in a very negative light. I wonder, after hearing what my cousin experienced while on duty in the delivery room, could they ever treat their mother in the same way again?

Honestly, mine has changed forever. Good thing, I've been quite a good kid ever since.

MP3 (Boy Burgis Hyperballad Remix)

Nagsimula ang lahat ng may isang lalaking na nalasing sa Nipa Hut noong nakaraang Martes. Pagkaraan ng pagkahaba-habang panahong hindi niya nasisilayan ang mala-babaylang imahe ng kanyang nanay-nanayan na si Athena, isang higit lamang nito sa inuman at sunod naman ang ating bida.

Matapos ang dalawang boteng Red Horse at isang bottoms up, umalis ng Nipa Hut itong ating lalaki na susuray-suray para sumakay ng FX patungong Ortigas. Kahit may tama at nangangamoy tsiko sa loob ng sasakyan, malinaw sa kanyang balakin ang bumili ng MP3 Player ng gabing iyon.

Sa entrance pa lang ng Megamall, hindi na niya ininda ang nakaambang panganib na maaring maamoy siya ng security guard na nag-iinspect ng bag ng bawat papasok. Mabuti na lang at kahit mahilo-hilo itong ating lalaki, pasimple siyang nakapasok suot pa ang kanyang sunglasses na binili noong isang taon.

Dala ng kalasingan, tanging ang kanyang mga paa na lang ang nagdala sa kanya patungo sa direksyong kanyang pupuntahan. Fourth Floor Cybergate, kahit ilang beses pa lang siyang nakaapak dito, alam ng kanyang damdamin na dito niya makikita ang kanyang bibilhin.

Ilang tindahan rin ang kanyang panasok bago niya nakita ang Electroworld. Kung tutuusin, hindi pagkakamalan na sila pala ang outlet ng matitinong mga MP3 players sa lugar - hindi yung mga imitation brands na gawa sa mga bulok na factory sa China. Habang nagtitingin ng kanyang bibilhin, isang matinding debate ang nagaganap sa kanyang utak...

---

Ipod 5th Gen... masyadong mahal, ayokong mamulubi dahil lang sa luho ko.

Rio... ano yun?

Mpio... nakakatakot ito, andami palang Mp3 players na hindi ko alam!!

Lasheng ka na, uwi na sa bahay Punks

Shuffle na lang kaya para soshalen pa rin?

Ang cute naman nung sales rep, kaso mukhang straight eh.

Sugod pa ba akong Padi's Point pagkatapos nito?

Wag na paano ka papasakayin ng MRT eh lasing ka?

Ano na ang bibilhin ko, dali magsasara na ang mall!!

Hayun, Creative na lang para soshalen pa ren na pasimple

Honga!! Creative na lang, sabi sakin ni Bronxdude maganda daw yun.

Anong pababayad natin??

Edi yung winidraw mo na 2 thou kanina bago ka pumuntang Nipa Hut!

Kulang eh?

Yung Card.

Honga yung Card!

Sige na nga, Gamitin ang Magic Plastic Card ngayon din!!!

---

At hayun nga ang nangyari. Bumili ng Creative Zen ang lalaking lasing kahit ito'y madugo sa kanyang bulsa. Alang-alang sa pagpapatuloy ng kanyang pag-ggym at sa walang sawang "pang-hihiram" ng MP3 sa internet, ito ang kanyang naging solusyon sa kanyang pagiging Audiophile.

Ngunit, sa kanyang paggastos, isang taon rin ang kanyang bubunuin mabayaran lang ng buo ang kanyang binili. Para sa kanya, mabuti na rin ito sapagkat mapipilitan siyang ihinto ang paggastos sa kanyang credit card na ginamit na pambayad. At least isang credit card na lang ang proproblemahin niya.

Matapos i-test at bayaran ang kanyang bagong MP3 Player, kaagad na rin niya itong ginamit pauwi ng bahay. Suot-suot pa rin ang kanyang shades kahit na madilim na ang paligid, balewala sa kanya anuman ang sabihin ng mga tao.

Hanggang sa may isang matandang babae ang nakapansin sa kanya...

Punks!!!

Tita ___________!

Andito ka pala hijo, anong ginagawa mo dito may pasok ka pa bukas ah.

May binili lang po. (sabay pakita ng mp3 player)

Aba may pera ka pala ha!

Card po ito Tita.

Magkano?

________

Aba ang mahal naman, alam ba yan ng nanay mo?

Opo.

Teka, bakit naka shades ka eh ang dilim dilim?

Tsaka bakit namumula ka at ang bango ng hininga mo??

Don't tell me...

---

Sa bandang huli, ang lalaki ay napilitang umuwi kasama ang kanyang tiyahin. In fairness, magara ang kotseng naghatid sa kanya sa bahay, kung saan nag-iintay na ang kanyang nanay.

Buti na lang at hindi nagsumbong ang tita kung hindi...

Lagot.

Moral Lesson sa kwentong ito: Delikadong pumasok ng mall ng lasing. Bukod sa panganib ng pagsuka, nagiging shopaholic ang mga repressed na taong kagaya ko.

Once There Was An Expedition - Invasion Force

Once upon a time, there was a bored but obedient big boy who found himself with nothing to do one afternoon during the month of April. While hanging out in his mom's bedroom - whining to her how his life sucks and how he feels trapped in a cycle with the career he is in, his mom suggested an activity that would probably change his life.

Soon after, he was dragging his ass up the stairs of the LRT Line 2. With only a hundred peso in his wallet and a libido of a rabbit raging in his body, this boy embarked on a journey going to the forest of UP Diliman where his mom told him to inquire about the graduate course in Creative Writing. At first, the boy was having second thoughts about the endeavor. He knew in his heart that aiming for such a degree is beyond his wildest imagination. After all, up until that moment, he never believed that he has the "it" factor to take up post-graduate studies. His appearance in the CAL graduate school office was just a mere appeasement for his mother who encouraged him to take the direction in the first place.

In his astonishment, the boy found out that the requirements he needed for the application was already in his disposal. All he needed to do is to consolidate them all and deliver them in a way that the panel of professors tasked to screen the applicants would somehow notice his little armada.

To the boy, the consolidation itself was a humbling experience. For the first time after his graduation, he paid a visit to an old friend and mentor who taught him how to write with feelings and full of details. This boy asked his mentor to serve as one of the two big people who would recommend him for the program, which the mentor gladly did - even though his hands was full of work. On his computer screen, he briefly answered the questions about the applicant. His answers were very heartwarming and flattering. It shows that the mentor took notice of the boy's performance during his classes. On a personal note, the mentor appeared to be quite fond of the boy's leadership skills back in college. It was the one thing he remembered about the boy, who was once his student when things were a little cozier back in the academy.

His mentor's notes became the boy's flagship. The only thing that is missing is the army he would take with him once he entered the seas of graduate school.

The boy had many options to choose from - ranging from his boss to a poet he befriended in Malate. His boss' recommendation would be the best option for him to be his army. Unfortunately he was too busy to attend to the boy's requirements, so the boy looked for another person who would complete the other half of his recommendation papers.

Out of nowhere, the boy had an idea. Since his blog serves as his last creative outlet in writing, he chose someone who could very well tell something about the boy and at the same time, has an exclusive access to the boy's very spirit. The person he chose was Athena, the strong light-hearted lady who had become his fairy gaymother in the past one year. Athena gladly accepts the boy's request. Using her connections and prior endeavors before joining the company the boy works for, she had easily assembled the army the boy would needed for his armada. In two weeks after his first homage to the graduate school office, he returned with all the necessary documents needed for his application.

His fleet sailed its way to the high seas according to the boy's plan.

Bunny Interludes Nine

Go go Jubesity Rangers...

Due to burnout and the strong desire to spend all day playing Sim City 4, I have taken a leave in my gym activities for almost five days last week. Combined with the relentless pigging-out sessions during the past few days and viola! I gained 3 pounds in that short span of time.

What made matters worse is that my MP3 player, which I fill with club music every time I would go to the gym broke down and is beyond repair. I am planning to replace it with a better and bigger-capacity player using my card but with the heavy dues I still have to pay, I am having second thoughts. My greatest concern right now is how would I endure a 30-minute cardio without the aid of high-energy music.

---

It's been 4 months since I started working out and up to this point, I haven't reached my planned target. Probably the leniency I have followed during the last two months had put my improvements into a standstill. I may not have been a gluttinous eater nowadays but still, my work-out simply compensates for the food that I'm eating.

The four-day hiatus only tells that I am in the verge of surrendering this enterprise for an indefinite period. If I decide not to renew my membership for three months, this entry might be my last post about my three-month stint at the gym. If ever that happens, at least I should appreciate the fact that I already lost 20 pounds from such activity. I should be happy with it.

With bills coming from all directions and the upcoming enrollment into graduatie school underway, I wonder wheter if I could still find the motivation and time to go on and continue my little project. If only somebody would knock my head again and drive me towards proving something I never thought possible in a short time. If only I could be reminded of Coldfuzion who blocked me in G4M after I told him how nice it would be to be like him someday.

Maybe, I wouldn't have thoughts like this. Probably this ninth interlude entry would be about my formal declaration that I am in my ideal weight already.