Pop out somewhere...

"You'll know it's sweet, if you already tasted the bitter."

reaction paper: decrease in OFWs deployment

“Some of the markets like South Korea and the United Arab Emirates have recovered from the financial crisis and are expected to hire more Filipinos in the coming year,” she said.
About half a million job orders from various countries abroad are yet to be filled and are available for Filipino workers in the coming year, Banawis said.
However, local recruiters warned of a further drop in hiring of Filipino workers overseas with many countries still to comply with the mandatory certification from the Department of Foreign Affairs (DFA).
Recruitment

leader Lito Soriano said thousands of workers would not be able to return to their worksites abroad if they fail to comply with the certification requirement.

- Philippine star

 Due to global financial crisis, fewer Filipino workers were hired abroad. according to the data presented by the POEA deputy administrator Stella Banawis the number of Filipinos deployed abroad decreased by three percent compared to last year.
The decrease of employers hiring Filipino OFWs is that Indonesian and other foreign workers are more willing to accept lower salaries. Thus, the declination of Filipinos hired.
Also the implementation of the amended Migrant Workers Act late this year has also adversely affected the processing and hiring of Filipino workers abroad. the act would  allow the government to impose additional state exaction and fees that will bleed migrant workers dry of their earnings. it will intensify the recruitment while not safeguarding the well-being and protection of the OFWs.
These OFW problems will hamper the smooth deployments abroad. thus, results to a declination in the economy since Philippines' dependency on remittances from non-resident investors is large.
As we know, OFWs improves the exchange rates because it makes peso stronger. The inflow of remittances injected significant liquidity in the economy, the disappearance of exchange rate uncertainty and the increased liquidity have allowed interest rates to remain low while the stronger peso helped keep inflation low.

her majesty-- the LADY DRAGON.

YESTERDAY WAS WEIRD.

mom and dad had  a  quarrel and all was mashed up. mom rummaged everything in dad's closet and complained about the chaotic picture it had been in years.  ( since dad had a closet, he never got time or just don't bother improving its condition. and i already accepted this fact, that dad is plain messy with his stuffs. sometimes i even bother myself and clean his mess. but i also accepted that its normal condition won't last long. (or should i say what's normal is what's messy.) one minute it's tidy, the next minute it'll be as disordered as before the moment dad will enter his room again. i had long before faced this fact. and i just can't understand why my mom can't accept this. they've been living for how many years i lost count already, yet she can't bare or get used to dad's scattered human nature? 

what my mom did?

she threw out everything in my dad's closet while loudly complaining about it, about everything in my dad's room. the best part was that after her feat, she wanted us, her placid children, watching peacefully at the living room, TO CLEAN HER MESS! wasn't it unfair?? she did all the messing, the venting, tired herself out and in the end she got nothing from it. and now she wanted us to clean it?? this so injustice! i do mop floors, but i don't mop floors which is deliberately messed up by someone else! 

it's a real fact that my mom has a FRAUD obsessive compulsive disorder. a genuine OC kind of person can't stand disorder no matter how little or big it is. she just can't. she easily gets irritated with just a site of pillows not in proper place. my mom is otherwise, she can sleep even the bed sheet is not properly tucked in. she can stand an unwashed piles of dishes in the sink, she can bare the site of clothes not folded for three days after it was washed.... and that's what she self-proclaimed with her self being OC?? hell no!!! 

let's get back to what happen to us downtrodden children. so my mom COMMAND us, (let me use the term because my mom is embodying the hard as a nut fact that she's the drama queen of the house that day. that we are her humble and submissive servants and we are subjects to her irrational tyranny. i hate to include my dad but most of the time it appears so.)  to clean her mess. so as ever faithful and obedient servants, we folded the clothes, placed them properly in place, and cleaned the room. we did all these to satisfy her majesty, to materialize her OCness, to boost her ego, to prove her domineering, to justify that we are just the waifs she happened to have mercy to and that it should be our humble pleasure and be grateful that she laid her merciful eyes on us. 

this is the best part:

after we folded the clothes, the dog entered the room and started playing with us. (aba, the royal dog stepped down from his thrown and reached out to the commoners.) but, since he would be a distraction to our work, we pushed him out of the room but just when he's heading out. the majesty in all her her flaring nostrils and inflaming eyes almost protruding out of her veins, stepped in to the room and KICKED ALL THAT WE FOLDED AND STARTED COMPLAINING WHY WE LET THE DOG GET IN TO THE ROOM! 

long narration of sufferings will be continued later, clamoring hypothalamus hampers writing progress.

random

i had a long shopping spree with my ever generous little sister. she did all the spending since she just received her money form their lending company. hehehe... so i accompanied her and availed the freebies. not that i'm being leech or what huh, she asked if i can use a company and hey, good thing i had nothing to do the whole afternoon. hehehe. also, my sister considers me as her personal fashion adviser. so if it's shopping for clothes that she's up to, I'm free for grabs, just don't forget to stuff me some donuts. hehehe!


***

follow your heart and you might get hurt or be happy. when you heed your heart's desire and get away happy with your decision then you're fortunate. but when you were hurt, it would just be a pinch of the hurt you would feel if you didn't do the things you should be doing. no regrets. just love. and along with love are a lot more things, like pain and happiness.

HATE YOU.

    i hate to think how easy it is for you to say how much you love me yet it's damn hard for me to express that feeling. i hate you for having the guts to show me everything, from your weaknesses to your strengths, from what can make you sad or happy, from what you are inside and out. i hate how much you can easily please everybody to heed your will with just a slight sweetness you excrete. i hate you because in the short time we'd been together...you loved all the hate in me, you love those that hated me, you love me though i hate you, you love all my hatred and modified it to love. 

    maybe i envy you because i can't do the things you easily do. i can't do the things you do to me. i envy you because you're happy loving me and showing it to me and yet i can't feel what you fell because i don't make you feel loved. i envy your transparency, your confidence to show your fragility, your strength within, your trust that i won't shatter you like the glass though both of us know that i am capable of.

to be continued....

A for:

Agnostic
Agonist
Atheist 
Artist

....

just wanna check...

   wow, i believe that it's been 2 months since the last time i wrote something in my blog and hell i terribly missed this. our computer is out of connection due to delayed payments and the PC itself is suffering all kinds of viruses the geeks may think of. well, anyway, good thing the PC's fixed already and the connection is working just fine now that my mom paid the connection provider. 

now i'm itching to write... to write.. hmm. what to write?? arrrgghh... just when all's set for writing that my neurons refuse to juice out something to write. haist.

and the quote of the day is....

  "The first step in believing is have something to believe in."

-Cyrell

ephemeral interludes

   the more i think about you the more your picture becomes clear but the feeling vague. 

i hadn't seen you for quite a long while now and i don't know if i'm really missing you or not. the fact that we spent ephemeral time with each other didn't really made a tight knot for me to be tied on your memory. that also goes to you. retrograding about how short our past interludes are, nothing really made sense. moments here and there are just like pictures not worth keeping in a wallet nor burning down to ashes. 

   so what are we now? i mostly believe that we're just two people unlikely to meet in some uncrowded and uncertain intersections. when we again walk on our each paths and happened to run at each other, we pass like strangers.

    there are no strong ties that bind us with each other, nor sand marks that we left so we can walk back to each other. nothing. no ties nor marks. perhaps just a plain knowing written by the vividness of the moments we had. written in some corners of our minds.

untitled

the residues of the forgotten

are left hanged on twilight walls

pain deserted unwritten

words taking solitary strolls.

behind the trees' silhouette,

sincerity and lies gradually waning,

hues of the truth and counterfeit,

what a sad, grotesque painting.

alas, night will come, and i shall

be comforted on her bosom

the faking stars will fall,

upon flowers in half blossom.

sweet hollowness creeping,

and shall contaminate me soon.

twilight glows dying,

leaving a disguised boon.

the night is suicidal

her silence assailing

lights flicking: ephemeral

soon forever fading, fading.

- nothing but the inspiration of nothingness that inspired me to write this.

because faith and belief beats simultaneously

   There's nothing wrong with believing. again. 

   There's nothing wrong with being a hypocrite, and betray knowledge for faith's salvation.  there's nothing wrong in believing that the Mighty He is there, though a few would say it's crazy to believe on such. 

   Belief- i thought I'd already hidden this in a chest of past memories and self perplex. locked by knowledge and knowing, confusion and doubt. so when I'm on the verge of throwing this chest to the vast sea of oblivion... a gravity so strong pulled the chest back and i unconsciously embraced it... embraced it so tight.

   After the feat, i asked myself, who or what pulled me back? then i came to struck by a mystic epiphany... it was my faith.

   Faith and belief has a connection and that a strong lock can't set them apart. faith beats for belief and belief beats for faith. it's simultaneous.

   But then i asked again, if i already forgotten my faith and locked up my belief what is the source of that strong pull? .. i deeply meditated and then i came to realized that even in the verge of surrender to great knowledge i hadn't forgotten my faith... and that's the reason why my belief slowly beats because it knows that my faith isn't dead.

Just Give Me a Break!

Semester break is silently, boringly, and rapidly killing me!!!

   Semestral breaks shouldn't be this boring. i think i should do something to make this break productive and exciting!

(- how can you do that?? aber??)

i can read a lot of books!

(- do you even have any?? you're done reading all the books in the shelves my dear.)

i can go and hang out with friends!

(- that will be great if you have money to pay the fare going to there houses.)

i can go out shopping!

(immaterial. you got ZERO balance in your wallet.)

i'll go swimming! 

(you can actually do that.... in the bath tub which is more or less than 10 steps away from where you are sitting now.)

i'll go swimming in the beach!! SAMAL!!

(epic rebuttal: 1. your mom won't surely allow you. 

                      2. even if she'll allow you, your father won't and so as your granny.

                      3. even if the above mentioned allows you, remember that you're in the verge of    

                           bankruptcy, or i think, you already are. you can't afford it. )

nice suggestions from me: your other side:

1. clean the house. 

-i've been doing that since the first day of the sem break.

2. walk the dog outside.

-as always, as i always do even on non sem break days.

3. write something.

- like i don't write at least 2 essays everyday. alright!

4. proofread past writings.

- and ridicule myself... brilliant!

5. wrestle down your dogs.

- and they'll wrestle me back and give me a  fractured bone. 

6. this is the perfect time to settle your career choice crisis.

- i talk to myself about that everyday and all it did is triple my confusion. 

7. BLOG!!

-wow! that's what i'm doing now! great! it amazingly decreased my boredom for about an inch! 

8. watch anime

-there's nothing much interesting series.

9. watch philosophical debates

- and absorb all the radiation! very much healthy suggestion.

10. read jessica zafra's blog.

- the least thing i can do that is interesting enough to make me wake each morning.

GIVE YOURSELF A BREAK! 

(break in the neck??)

                   

the poetry of ennui.

   today, i want to write something profound and romantic. I've tried every thing, maybe not every thing but every possible thing that is doable and reachable to extract out romantic juices. 

   i want to write something beautiful for you, though not even ones you had written something beautiful or something for me. though you always write your poetry, and you write these poetry not thinking of me but your recollection of somebody's  memory. of a girl who is far from me. very much far from me, of upbringing, of likes, of character and of beauty. and you always write your poetry for her, for her that you adore the most, for her that you adore through binding nature and forming it into a splendid bouquet of art, of words. and you, with your ever secretive admiration, offers these bunch of art to her in secret, in painful loving secret.

   who ever that girl is, she, i painfully think, is the luckiest daughter of a mother can have. for from a great distance, a boy, is loving her and writing poetry for her.

   my love, as i read your poetry, i always dare to think and dream that these are all for me and i was that girl your offering your bouquets to. while i'm reading them, i feel so happy, and after that, it feels like dying. for i know, i always know from the beginning, even if as i am about to read it... it's not for me. :(

   writing these words is not my style in writing. i self-proclaimed to write humorous. 

and though all of these things I'd written is nothing but a tarnished and hardly to be forgotten cliche of unwanted circumstances. i would still like to write them. though it made me sound pathetic and, i hate to say, hopeless. i would still write them for in the first place i have nothing to write now... if it's not you I'm thinking and not for you I'm writing.

   I'm supposed to write something beautiful for you. to make myself more worthy even of your friendship. but i guess the spontaneous flow of words from my head going to my hands and into the screen gave nothing... gave no beauty at all. but just the plain and grotesque evidence of my despair, of the unbearable truth in its blunt nudity.

   i don't know when will i write again a poetry that is worth of your glance or i dare more to say, of your interested pause and your eager reading, your profound understanding, and your secretive smile of likeness, and your seeking for the author and your seeking for the author's friendship... and soon for her love.

   some day i will just know, though i don't know if how will i ever know. if ever i can still come to know. who knows? who knows better? who knows better than me of course, the know-er.

though i hadn't still knew how and when i came to know this feeling i had for you... all are just scribbles of words dangling above my effervescent heaven and i can't seemingly find the thread to knit them all into one serene sky. all are just feelings. or just a vague memory of a happy feeling.

   some day, it might not be too soon, but just wait, just wait with patience and nonchalance. for i'll just come to write for you a poetry so beautifully made that you will be writing for me a poetry with par excellence.

destiny??

I KNOW THAT WE'RE PREDESTINED FOR EACH OTHER. HAHAHA!

THE SOCIAL NETWORK - HD-Trailer - Ab 7. Oktober 2010 im Kino!

a film about an egocentric, paranoid, ambitious megalomaniac...

'Flipped' Trailer HD

the best of December films.. woohoo!

so now i'm androgynous

just realized, almost all of my real poems are dedicated to women... my admiration to their specie. i ♥ women...but it doesn't mean i love men less... it's just that, no man had stirred me to write something for him. i ♥ men. hahha!

WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE trailer

Jason Derulo "Ridin' Solo" (Official Lyrics Video)

on early pregnancy

  more than ten of my batch-mates got pregnant, 2 of them are my close friends.... now what's the matter??

  an eye-opening statement/ dialogue between a mother and a daughter from an instant noodle tv ad: 

" ma, mahirap po bang magbuntis?"

" anak, mas mahirap maging ina."

   government, private and public sectors and agencies are finding ways to prevent teenage pregnancy among women. yet the rate of teenage moms in our society is still ballooning. now, what is the cause? what are the consequences? who are to be blamed? how can we prevent early teenage pregnancy?

   a friend of mine told me that one of my friend just delivered her baby last week and would like to have me as a godmother for her child. wow.. take it easy, I'm not even aware, i was all shocked. just last year i had a sensible conversation with her about our future plans and ambitions, the things we'll do to accomplish them all, and now this, she already got a baby and stopped schooling. where did you put your plans dude? in your pocket?? or inside that condom left in your pocket, which you should have used before you let him enter the kingdom of your genitals. 

  
   i was all confused and regretful about the news, not that i don't like the baby. she's an angel. but the fact that she had her before she is ready filled me with regret and even fear for the baby, for their future. it's like walking on a quicksand of uncertainty. she still have no plans for the both of them. but, as they say, what can we do?? the baby is there. we can't put her back to the womb, shrink back to her former embryo, and spill her out. that is so rude for me to say. but, i am rude.

   i asked her about the father. she said that he has no job and, similar to her, he hadn't finished his studies. i didn't asked further about the wrenched guy but instead encouraged her not to be independent with that man. i suggested her not to be married. i think they should take to consideration the welfare of the baby before anything else. also marriage will just divide the expenses that should be reserved for the child.

   i love the baby and i love her too and because i love them so much i want her to make wise plans for them. i told her to continue her studies maybe a year after the pregnancy. leave the child by day to her parents and go to school. finish her studies and look for a decent job after. 

   the statement from the TV ad is true. it is not difficult to labor a child but to be a mother. especially to be a single mother slash student. according to the TV ad, one of the major causes of teenage pregnancy is the lack of guidance from the child's parents and i say it's true. more and more cases of teenage pregnancy are on urban places, the more industrialized places. due to the parents' job , they tend to neglect their children and rare give them proper guidance.

   i just remember a scene from a telenovela when the mother scold her child for being pregnant an early age. 

 "i had given you everything! everything that you want! we even work hard just to send you to an expensive private university... and this.. this is what you gave us in return!? you got pregnant?! what will you do with your studies?? we have big dreams for you! where did we went wrong?? where did we failed??"

   the child was just sobbing the whole time.

   children seeks attention but they get less because their parents are too busy on their work. thus, the children as they grow will seek attention from the peers they are into. peers who, like him, are also neglected by their parents. from there, they will make unwise decisions and eventually lead to unwanted or i say unlikable circumstances like early pregnancy. the TV ad wants to convey that proper guidance and conversations with children will lead them to right decision making. it's okay to work and provide the material needs of the children for they are essential. but, also they should not forget the other needs of their child, like love and care, security and self-esteem. things that cannot be bought by money. but can be given through attention and constant communication. 

Hiling By Frio (with animation)

a tearjerker song..

NGAYONG WALA KA NA by Aiza Seguerra with lyrics

I MISS YOU...

i'm deeply.. sorry. :'(

i am the hunch that encumbers your back

i am the rock under your soles,

all my wrongs i forgot to track

I'm the hollower of your pride's holes.

to watch you suffer saddened my heart

urges me to cry an endless barrel of tear

let i be your target in a dart

or otherwise lay me on a sear.

to know i made someone sad

that i was the springer of his misery

.... oh let me be dead! i would be glad! 

to all the things i'd done: "I'm deeply sorry".

  i made some one sad today. :(

  i want to cry this all out, or shout or run to the fields and freak out how i am deeply sorry ... how it buries me down to misery that some one, many miles away from me is listening to to the saddest of music, speaking the sorrows of his heart and living his day as if his not alive. :(

  i am sorry: this is what i always say to you... and this is all i can say.

i had never done anything good to you. not a single thing that made you smile, sincerely.

  maybe i must let myself die with my hopeless feelings for you and I'll pray that you'll forget everything about me, every single cue that will remind you. let me be dead in your memories... then i'll be happy to see you laugh each day and oblivious on everything about me. as i will watch you from a distance.... it'll kill me a single day, it'll shed me a tear, it'll slowly set my heart into disruption, i know. but if it kills me and you live, then I'll be fine living like a dead knowing that you lived.... if it'll shed me tears of sadness and you tears of joy, then i won't mind crying... if my heart be ruptured, your existence, your smile will give me strength to put them back together... maybe it won't be beautiful, it'll be scarred... but at least it still beats... beats for you.

   i'm listening to a sad song... and as the music travels down to my heart, it doubled its sadness. 

   i want to cry.

Jewel - You were meant for me [Lyrics]

you're meant for me, and i was meant for you
!

I am in a box.

I am in a Box

i am in a box,

and i don't know the way out.

i am in a box,

locked in fear and doubt.

i am in a box,

full of emptiness.

empty though it looks full.

i am in a box,

stranded in vagueness,

locked in a rule.

i am in a box,

with a dim of light

streaming in.

i am in a box,

everything's a familiar sight, 

yet strangely foreign.

i am in a box,

confused by it's nothingness.

i am in a box,

daydreaming a distant greatness.

i am in a box,

and it feared to be trashed.

i am in a box,

unbeknown to when this will last.

the Night, the Flame and the Moth

the Flame:

moth of uncouth heritage,

why do you stare?

you fragile savage,

tempted by my fair.

you were hypnotized,

you can't be blamed,

i'm your admired paradise,

all your strengths are lamed.

my midnight liaison,

don't hesitate to come near.

free from your doubting prison,

fly away from your fear.

oh moth, be not afraid,

for the night will die soon,

so as the sharps of my blade,

to my heat be swooned.

be burned with me,

for i am near fading,

be seared by our intimacy,

your end is waiting.

the Moth:

you dance by the night's rhythm,

you sway under the moon's beam,

you walk me close to death's chasm,

mistress of my every night's dream.

but if you're a  precious gift or a bane,

tonight, my endearing heart shall know,

will you give me the curse of pain,

or the heavens of snow?

will my affection be not in vain,

or will you kill me with your bow?

but whatever the god's laid,

my imprudent heart will follow,

if on her flame i slowly cascade,

my eyes will cry with pleasure not sorrow.

for a desire before death was granted,

and if i will witness no tomorrow.

expect me not to be saddened.

my life has been full but narrow.

alas, the midnight is calling,

my darling tardily closing her eyes,

but before you sail to dreaming,

kiss me with your flame,

and burn me to your paradise.

the Night:

pretentious moth circling around 

the pliant tongue of fire  

when will you sear your wings

and die with your desire?

you lay your eyes on the quite lamp

your life on the edge of the lair

heating your wings from the damp

you hide upon a moon's mare.

you forgot your mother's caution

uncloak your wings from the cool

enticed by the flame's motion

baited by the tongue of a fool

the night is getting darker

you are lulled by the heat

be at rest in eternal slumber

die and burn in her deceit.

Tryst

TRYST

 by Clark James Asuy

The moon ascends to light the pitch dark sky

I now see your beauty which besets me by and by

To hold you close is my heart's desire

With me, let wishing stars conspire

As we lie side by side, abed

Words aren't needed to be said

We snuggle closer and feel the heat

Warmth and fragrance, dangerously sweet

I bury my face under your hair

Fire kindles in our love's lair

I touch your forehead with my lips

Missing heartbeats, rhythmic skips

Our eyes behold each other, we see fire

We hear a distant drumming, we hear love's lyre

Our noses meet, your scent intoxicates my soul

We're fragments of the universe but together we are whole

I gently touch your cheek and I see you blush

You tried to speak, my eyes said hush

I then kiss you fully on the lips

Heat heightens, sanity seeps

I reach your neck and you tilted it for inspection

We're going too far with these mad sensations

My lips brush your nape, I feel you shiver

We should be stopping the flow of the river

But before we get lost in the vortex of ecstasy

A grim reality douses our brief insanity

Someone waits for you in an empty house

And tomorrow, I'll be one with my spouse

Exit from the Labyrinth

I'm greeted by the remainders of the night, 

cold rain and fine drizzle, 

misting the sleepy greens,

all made a nostalgic and quaint sight. 

warm collection of the last night's dreams.

my consciousness refuse to forget,

the moments painted in surreal,

all that happened, the persons i met.

the dream i cease to conceal.

but the night was thawed

by the pierce of the needles,

and all its lulling fraud

that were spoken in riddles.

the clowns came crying,

down the ambiguous carnival.

face paints slowly melting,

revealing nightmare: cold and feral.

run back to the threshold,

i was chased by time and space.

leaving each chapters unfold,

alas, i found my way out of this maze.

Death of Pygmalion

your blood is my poison;

in my veins it'll flow.

we are a perfect liaison;

we're chiseled in a cameo.

you're my divine Shiva,

i am carried by your womb.

bearer of the panacea;

gravedigger of my tomb.

in the middle of my hollow;

you're death stands alone.

imbibe my breath to shallow;

kiss me and i'll turn into stone.

to the night you spoken;

with the rhythms of your deceit.

till my soul turn a sunken;

my lips lay frail on your feet.

rest my soul you sirene;

lull me, ruin my fragile ship.

silhouette hiding behind curtain;

cease your repeated script.

take me to your solace,

where eyes never close,

when all are nights no days,

and to death we shall toss.

"Speechless" part 1

   every one were on high-spirits ,the expected gaiety they'll feel during near semester breaks. in every corners you could see students, under the Santol tree beside the library were group of students practicing their lines for their plays which, on some subjects like english and literature, are considered as final exams. some were  filled with enthusiast and  others with exhaustion as they swayed their bodies, swung their hands, moved their feet and delivered the lines by heart or by nose. others i saw brooding over reading materials on some silent nooks like the nipa hut and the benches in front of it and trying to concentrate or i say indulge themselves to what they are reading. there are also students, the confident ones, talking like they can't here each other even in a close range for they're shouting, for emphasis perhaps or just showing off how happy they are that semester break is fast approaching and that they're happy to have just passed there subjects, caring less on perfection, stranded and contended in low mediocrity. students in laptops searching on everything or just opening there face-book accounts checking out updates, delighted for a few notifications and occasional friend requests. students making there projects and thesis for the last submission. almost everyone are restless and too occupied to what they are engaged with.

   while here was i, in my highly observant mood, walking the path heading to the library, as always, to the library. walking slow so that i could take notice of the activities livening the academe.

   I'm standing on the threshold, swung open the glass door, stepped my foot forward, walked confidently towards the i.d validation machine. where i placed my i.d on the red light and let it be censored, afterward, a beep signaled indicating that my i.d was validated and i may use the library. i navigated my eyes through the expectantly crowded bodies of students sitting on every table trying to find and recognize some vaguely familiar faces. every table consisted of not less than five people. some chatting and discussing in unmodulated voices that's too loud inapt for the place. some were seriously doing paper works. there was no vacant sit available. but though every table was occupied i would less likely do my business in the second floor. there is too much light streaming in, big and too bright fluorescent lamps, too many (noisy)students, uncomfortable sit, less private. it's a too public place. 

   the students were murmuring loud and were nonchalant to the place's rules and regulations that the librarian, stood up, get the bell from the table, placed it in the upper deck and rung it loud enough so that everyone will notice there commotion. consequently, the students lowered their voices down and the place was back to its original and appropriate silence.  

   after the feat, i hurried upstairs and walked straight to my favorite place in the library, the area where they place the books on high shelves. this is the segregated area. it's not air-conditioned so if you'll enter the place you'll be consumed by the heat, dust and the absence of air. but i care less about that. so i proceeded to the room anyway.

   i swung open the half glass door and the heat, dust, absent air, books and shelves greeted me with there welcoming look. i stood and paused in a short while, to feel them. turning left, i started walking my way to the area. it's just in the extreme left wing facing the room. ones you go there, you will find a small round table with two sits facing each other just beside the large window. outside the large window stood an old proud Narra tree spreading its leaves and branches so that only a few delicate light could stream in, swaying it's leaves in the thick and cold wind. waltzing in the hush sounds the wind and its branches and leaves are making. few leaves cascading slowly from the tree to ground where it'll be swept by the janitor or kicked and stepped on by some shoes. birds are happily cooing at each other, hopping hither and tither on each branches, occasionally tangled on some bunch of leaves. flying away and back, chirping there melodies and conducting an orchestra with the wind and the Narra tree.

    just beside the effervescent tree is an old building, maybe the same old as the tree. you could see visible signs of antiquity in the tarnished gutters where some strange weeds are dangling loose in the gutters curves, clay shingles grayed and withered and cracked by weather and time, unpainted walls were some visible cracks penciled its dirty white surface like lines in maps. there are also weeds sprawled from the ground to the walls decorating it, that weeds together with the lines of cracks made grotesque shapes when you look at it from a distance. though the building is covered with visible evidence of old age, it stood proud and noble and dignified. that it is ought to be respected by the other younger buildings and students and teachers who used and are using the accommodations and comfort that he offered and can still offer through generations.

   i watch and look at the details of everything around me. the round table, the books, the shelves, the books in the shelves, the chair where i sat, the dusty tiles, the gloomy place lighted by the soft rays from the outside, the strong wind and submissive tree and the old building. all was observed with keen and delightful almost obsessive interest. i tired and indulged myself to the pleasures of the sight that i almost forgot why i was here. then a yawn escaped from my mouth and the was question was answered. i slept.

PINCH MY NOSE!

   why does everybody likes pinching my nose??

nose squeezing!

   i wake up each morning just for my nose to be pinched by my wicked and mean sister. she always do that, like she's having great time or pleasure pinching and biting my poor but proud nose. i sometimes caught her staring at it mischievously like she's itching to SQUEEZE it! grrr!

   i really like my nose. it compliments my face and i think that it is just the proper size and shape for my small face. I'm proud to say that no one ever mocked or teased me because of it. they even say that it's so cute, and that they like to PINCH it. well, guys, thanks, but can you cease yourselves from pinching it?? hmm?

weaving stories.

the clouds are crumpled above the sky like these papers loitered carelessly on the floor. the sun, as mighty as he always do, streaming his long rays through those that can be reigned by his power. dew drops glimmers with gaiety as they flow down each leaf, tumbling and sliding on the youthful greens and withered ones. cascading down, they will be received by the warmth of the moisten land, down to its abyss, in darkness where they will give health to its roots and life to the earth.
birds are chirping on high and low notes, singing some melody unfamiliar to my ears but otherwise lovely to hear. some are on trees, hopping and walking on the branches. others are on cable wires, looking at posts and wires like some strange trees unfamiliar to their sight. singing altogether as the mild wind swayed and wafted there voices and let the surroundings be filled with it. the bobolinks made a fine morning orchestra.

septuagenarian

word of the day: SEPTUAGENARIAN ...

-

1. Being 70 years old or between the ages of 70 and 80.

2. Of or relating to a septuagenarian.

LOVE! LOVE! LOVE!

   I open my face book account. The first thing i usually do is go to my personal profile wall, check out if someone concerned and interested commented on my wall posts. next, confirm and leave some friend requests, why do i leave uninteresting friend requests? it is because i like looking at those people requesting for my friendshp. hehe. it really does me pleasure. afterward, click on the Home page and see if there is something interesting posted, it could be something worth the laugh, the smirk and the "ooows?", something that's worth commenting. last will be checking of the citizen's inhabiting and dominating the chat box, those are the people who actually logs in to face book every now and then. i think there trying to make some virtual civilizations and face book is the start of there empire. eventually, if i find nothing interesting to chat with and comment at, i log out immediately.

    But TODAY, i saw a wall update that caught or i say grab or stole my inattentive and passive attention. My very close friend "A" is in a relationship with my self-proclaimed best friend "J"!!! huuwhaaat??

my eyes bulged an inch out from its nest, widened in a full 360 degrees and locked to the revelation appeared on the screen. my mouth opened in awe, and there will be a tendency for a fly to enter if i wouldn't close it back. this was my initial reaction. i know, i know, i'm over reacting. hooo!

    OMG! i never saw it coming, well, eventually i won't cause i hadn't seen the both of them for almost two months now. oh my, this is what i get from my busy schedule. i can't even notice the supernatural things and phenomenon happening in the surrounding. heheh.

   As a roundup, i wish them all the best that the world and life can give, that there love can make. i say, in my own assessment, they are at heart perfect for each other. LOVE. LOVE. LOVE!

LUNA---the beautiful mistress.

   The best week of the month is the last quarter week. why? because it is when the full moon appears every night!    

   Yesterday was the start of the full moon's grand appearance in the sky. that is why i can hear wolfs howls from the top of there lungs and  were wolves reign (though i didn't actually seen any. hehe, except Jacob.). 

   So, there was i, in the couch beside the window where i can see a fuller and clearer view of the enchanting moon. though it's slightly covered by wisp of clouds, it rather did complement the excellent moon, the clouds served as laces thus making her more picturesque. the stars glittered brightly too, but they didn't matched the brightness and glory of the moon. the constellations of stars looked like a  frame surrounding the perfect picture inside, the moon. the stars made her more beautiful. The Yale and midnight blue dominates the color of the sky and made a perfect canvass to where the moon will settle her thrown. 

   What a lovely night...staring at her, and hopes she will also look back at me, even a glance. Sometimes it fills me with envy thinking that a lot of beings admire her like i do. i wish she's all for me, and for me alone. that her glow is for me alone, that she lives by the night because it is her desire to bless me with her warm and comfort light. but how ambitious and selfish to think that way, i should respect her and understand that she's the eyes of the blinding night, and that i should love her more.

the moon

the flower will open its lips in wonder

the crickets shall sing there hymns

the prophets and the wise will ponder

upon the beauty beyond there dreams

the fishes will jump on exaltation

the wolfs will glorify her on plateaus

every form living will desire her with affection

that the stars and sky will be jealous.

UP-TO-DATE UPDATES!

UPDATES:

UNLEASH THE FREAK IN YOU! FIGHT BOREDOM!

 1. i saw my cat napping above the fridge... i was about to get water from the fridge when i saw a cat's tail hanged as i swung open the door. So when i looked up, there, the cat in all her sophisticated physique was staring at me half squinted.

cat: "who are you?"

human: "i think i own this house, and this fridge you're sleeping.  you?"

cat: "i'm the guardian feline of this house you own and this fridge where i am sleeping. how dare you disturb my meditation?"

human: "oh, i didn't know, sorry, i'm just about to get some water actually. and then i saw you and...

cat: sshh! enough with your lame excuses!  get what you have to get! close the door! you're wasting electricity! get lost!"

human: "oh, i think i should buy another fridge so that i won't disturb you the next time i'll get cold water. it's not my intention to destroy the tranquility of your sleep."

cat: "you better buy another, now you go find your exit to this insensible dialogue, and i'll go on with my meditation."

human: "ok.. happy meditating.."

cat: "ZZzzzzzzz... "

 2. my father is venting over political issues, showbiz issues, current economic crisis and the "carinderia" where he ate this morning (they are not serving vegetable soups.)

 3.  my grandmother is narrating to our new maid, the history, the current activities, the future plans of our family and every thing else involved, as what she usually does.

4. mother brought "Marang" and "Durian" ..... weeeeh!!!

5. i'm gulping cold water from the Fit 'n Right bottle. 

6. i'm still struggling over boredom.

Boredom-stricken state of mind.

What's on my table?

   fresh milk. Skyflakes crackers. pen. mechanical pencil. papers.

What's beneath my table?

   dog. dog food. unpaired slippers. cold floor. dust. 

What's inside my room? ( aside from those mentioned above)

   lost soul. computer set. telephone. cabinet. hopeless case of  "the asymmetrical mountain of photocopied articles that nobody wanted yet they are preserved"( for sentimental purpose perhaps. i DOUBT that) 

What does my room look like?

   chaotic. catastrophic.

What's inside my human anatomy?

   growling hypothalamus (which is now satisfied by the food intake.) , healthy liver, healthy lungs and other internal organs apart from the brain, unhealthy state of mind, dysfunctional central nervous system

What does my human anatomy look like on the outside view?

   a coalition of the most diabolic forces of her nature: halitosis, hell-like hair, skin itches, stinking feet

What will i write?

   about the dog and her current state of consciousness. anarchy.

   I'm getting weaker. Boredom is rapidly contaminating my system. It'll defeat me soon. sooner than i thought. NOW! Grrrr! no! no! no... i need an antidote!.. the antidote of life...me and the whole troop of my system including the calluses won't be defeated!!! graarrr! ! !  to the glory of my body! fight boredom!!!

Why Not Write it on Paper?

   I like papers, and pens, inks, and sketchpads and pencils, and a complete set or supply of them on my table gives me delight watching.

   In the advent of fast pace technology nowadays. More often, computers and laptops are use as tools for writing, or I say, typing. You just click on keyboard buttons and everything will automatically appear on the screen. Fast isn't it? Yes, indeed it is. That's why more and more patronize these kind of tools rather than the old and ancient style, nearly be extinct( I pray not.) writing methodology--that is to literally grip the pen on your hands and flow the ink down to the paper's smooth surface. 

   Notwithstanding the boom of technological equipments for writing, I still love writing on paper. Not because I'm ancient, old and a subject for extinction, but because writing in this method gives me a more complete and light feeling after. I feel closer to my work. Their is a soul in it. It's like a piece of me was on the paper. It is a pleasing and a wonderful feeling every time I complete an essay or article on papers. It gives me pleasure to look and run my eyes on the ribbon of words afterward and my eyes glimmers as if i had them laid on a treasure chest on an island.

   I like my longhand and i like looking at it, specially if I'd written something lengthy. it's like art. The paper and the words on sentences, the sentences on paragraphs are beautiful  that it sometimes urges me to drive to the nearest wood shop and have it framed.(yeah, i like bragging. oh i love it.) 

Federer and Nadal: Fit of Laughter During Shooting

 

If there's a laugh that's contagious it would be Roger's! hahahah!  i can't get over. Rafa can't get over. when will roger get over laughing?? hahaha! this one is head over heels cute!

i love rainy mornings

I    I had a dream about a rainy morning, of gray skies and brown muddy roads. in this dream, i saw myself walked outside and spread my arms, looked up to the sky and rain drops caressing my warm cheeks, my eyes, my face. rain drops slide down from my face to my neck to my nakedness below. 

their was no one, I'm alone, and the rainy morning, though just a dream, is all for myself. 

then suddenly i woke up, a gravity pulled me back to reality. now, i am staring outside, noticing the details. dew drops were tumbling down leaves, and gray clouds lazily paving way for the bright sun. their was an evidence of rain. rain dripped that morning. rain came by for me that morning. 

i love rain. and coffee. and the cozy room.

and the quote of the day is....

"Their is no mind stranger than that of someone who is deeply in love with art."

-Cyrell Alingasa

the room. the universe. and the bored

    The mighty sun is up and ready to broil the laborers tanned skin, the sky is in its usual blue, whisked by flimsy webs of milk like clouds. Green of different shades, olive green, mint green, dark green, dominates the color of the surrounding for there are a lot of trees and plants in our village. the road is muddy for it rained last night almost every night now that cold months are approaching. thus, it never slip my ears to hear complains escaping from the passers mouth about when will the accountable for road improvements will take notice on the battered street. 

    Children , in assorted checkered uniforms, are gaily clasping hands together while humming some familiar noon time variety show songs. it started as a hum first and then it'll get louder and louder until the hum will morph into singing the lyrics, then everyone wants there voices to be noticed and so they'll sing a bit louder than the others and they'll burst into a wrongly conducted orchestra or choir perhaps, and everything, from the hum will break into cacophonous farrago of voices and yells and shouts and screams and giggles and laughter! they will all end up laughing and running going to the school rooms and who get to first hug or touch the confused teacher, for she don't know why her gaiety little students are running like that of someone been chased by a bunch of dogs, will be awarded as the fastest runner and that has the rights to brag and pride in class.

      not only the children are in a vigorous mood but also the grown-ups, semi grow-up, just grown up, hates to be grown-up, pretending to be grown-ups are feeling the warmth of life and thus, heading on there respective roads and paths and vocations and works, with the contentment of the soul, vigor of the sun and hopes and dreams. they all willed to live and so they set out to fulfill and satisfy, enjoy and content the callings of the day and there duties.

      as when every one else are living there lives ahead, here i am in my room, my space where i can enjoy life in the leeway of the carnation pink walls and jade curtains hanged in rectangular wooden windows. in my space, floored by olive green tiles that coolness sneaks up in your muscles if you are not to wear any coverings on your soles, here in my room, almost claustrophobic room, for my brother's nursing stuffs, books and articles and the likes, were messily piled and mounted up on a very asymmetrical disordered manner. it is here on this single space, miserably left by time and trend, inhabited by friendly neighborhood spiders, is my world. is where i extend my world. make my world. this is where i create my ideal and picturesque universe for my own and for the others, the others are the characters i create in my universe, produced by machines like pens and papers and inks. manufactured by a brilliant brain system that was mine. 

     Oblivious yet sensitive and observant of the happenings outside this universe, which is my room, I'll be taking notes of the human activities, find there flaws, keep in mind there strengths and weaknesses. then i will use and parlay these learning and observations into something grandiose and useful in perfecting my universe.