Friday, October 28, 2011
emotions
Bliss: Had a one-time-big-time semestral break bonding with my high school friends in Tagaytay and Nuvali. 'Twas a blast, and I was glad our friendship has withstood the test of time. After almost a decade of camaraderie, despite taking different routes (in university and courses ), we still find time to meet and catch up on things.
Distress: Was about to go to Book Sale for some mag-back-issue hunting, only to find out that it was 'temporarily closed', urgh! Another option was to stop by in National Bookstore and Expressions, but changed my mind, they have more school supplies than books. Boo, change your names guys. :P
fail jump shot! |
Posing in Tagaytay (me doing a planking-sort-of-thing) |
Distress: Was about to go to Book Sale for some mag-back-issue hunting, only to find out that it was 'temporarily closed', urgh! Another option was to stop by in National Bookstore and Expressions, but changed my mind, they have more school supplies than books. Boo, change your names guys. :P
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Malady
Robbery, murder, rape has been part of the daily news programs that the audience becomes apathetic towards these stories. The news about a Chinese kid, who has been brain dead after run over twice, proves the indifference and callous minds of people.
Nakaka-inis at nakaka-lungkot lang, dahil wala ng pakialam ang tao sa kapwa nila! Urgh.
This brings me back to one of my favorite poems, "Man of My Time" by Italian poet Salvatore Quasimodo.
MAN OF MY TIME (SALVATORE QUASIMODO)
You are still made of stone and sling,
man of my time. You were the cock-pit
with the malign wings, the sundial of death,
-I have seen you- in the chariot of fire, at the gallows
at the wheels of torture. I have seen you: it was you
with your exact science persuaded to extermination
without love, without Christ. Again, as always, you
have killed, as did your father kill, as did
the animals that saw you for the first time, kill
and this blood smells as on the day
one brother told the other brother: "Let us
go into the fields." And that echo, chill, tenacious,
has reached down to you, within your day.
Forget, o sons, the clouds of blood
risen from the earth, forget the fathers:
their tombs sink down ashes black birds, the wind cover their heart.
oOo
Ever since we discussed this poem in our Literature class, "Man of My Time" has become one my favorite poems. The subject deals with man's efficiency in killing his neighbors as time goes by. 'Killing' may not be taken per se, it may allude to man's detachment and indifference in life; still Quasimodo's work transcends through time, and is most applicable today.
oOo
The following are pictures taken from the Daily Mail.
Nakaka-inis at nakaka-lungkot lang, dahil wala ng pakialam ang tao sa kapwa nila! Urgh.
This brings me back to one of my favorite poems, "Man of My Time" by Italian poet Salvatore Quasimodo.
MAN OF MY TIME (SALVATORE QUASIMODO)
You are still made of stone and sling,
man of my time. You were the cock-pit
with the malign wings, the sundial of death,
-I have seen you- in the chariot of fire, at the gallows
at the wheels of torture. I have seen you: it was you
with your exact science persuaded to extermination
without love, without Christ. Again, as always, you
have killed, as did your father kill, as did
the animals that saw you for the first time, kill
and this blood smells as on the day
one brother told the other brother: "Let us
go into the fields." And that echo, chill, tenacious,
has reached down to you, within your day.
Forget, o sons, the clouds of blood
risen from the earth, forget the fathers:
their tombs sink down ashes black birds, the wind cover their heart.
oOo
Ever since we discussed this poem in our Literature class, "Man of My Time" has become one my favorite poems. The subject deals with man's efficiency in killing his neighbors as time goes by. 'Killing' may not be taken per se, it may allude to man's detachment and indifference in life; still Quasimodo's work transcends through time, and is most applicable today.
oOo
The following are pictures taken from the Daily Mail.
Apathetic man walking past the poor child. |
Dead malice |
Finally, after 20 passers by, a compassionate lady! |
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
bring home the bacon
My very much awaited semestral break, has been, how will I explain it, a tad boring? I’ve been wanting to fast forward my first semester in order to take a time off, yet here I am, wishing to fast forward it again do something prolific.
I caught myself doing routine stuff for the past week: reading, surfing the net, sleeping, shopping, daydreaming, reading, surfing the net, sleeping, shopping, daydreaming. Yes you got the picture.
I’m looking forward to going back to my hometown after almost a year of absence. It’s just that my brother’s final exam week has been stopping us from going back home. Urgh!
Activities are waiting for me in Laguna: travelling and bonding with my high school friends, missed them so much!
But since we’re still in Manila, here’s the rundown of my activities, just in case you’re interested:
Reading my pending books
I am currently reading Nabokov’s Lolita. The book is divided into two parts. I am done with the first part that talks on Humbert and Lolita’s love affair. Humbert is a pedophile and has managed to marry Lolita’s mother in order to get close to Lolita. Fast forward to the death of Lolita’s mother, the two eventually entered into an erotic/pedophilic/incest-like relationship. I have stopped reading the first two chapters of the second book because it bores me. The chapters just tell the journey of the father and daughter around America. I so wanted to skip these chapters and read the climax, which obviously I still have no idea.
In case you’ve been reading my past entries, I am currently obsessed with classical reads so Aesop’s Fables, Jane Austen’s Emma and Niccolo Machiavelli’s The Prince are still waiting for me.
Shopping (teehee)
When not reading my pocketbooks, I do manage to visit malls and shop. My recent purchases are basic loose tops with lace details. I am in love with laces. <3
Tops from Landmark:
Lastly…
Blabbing in my blog.
Current mood state: wanting to go back home!
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Date a girl who writes, daw.
Thanks to blog-hopping, I happen to chance upon this "cute" article. Here.
Date a girl who writes. She's hard to find because she's the one who stands in the corner of the room watching other people from a distance. She's the one who searches their faces and watches their body language. She stands close enough that she can hear but far enough away so that she won't be seen. She's a master at invisibility, and all the smart girls know she's the best at eavesdropping. They go to her for the gossip. She knows who is in love with who just by watching them.
You'll be a lucky man if you find her. She's the one with a journal in her hand, a notebook in her purse, scrap paper in her car, and pencils in her back pocket. she's always scribbling something, praying it won't evaporate before she gets it down onto paper. and because she's always scribbling, she's always looking down, and that's why you never noticed her before.
if you're lucky, you'll find her at a library or in a park or at a coffee shop or in an airport, drinking coffee and watching people or typing furiously at her computer. If you see her looking at you, look back and wait.
if she looks away she doesn't want to be interrupted and she doesn't want you to notice her, so pretend you don't. but if you can get her to look at you and not look away, she wants to talk to you. she's targeted you, pursuing you, inviting you. once she catches your eye, once she hears your voice that first time, she begins her profile. she's the one who will have your character in 10 seconds and have you completely profiled in 10 minutes.
after two weeks she'll know you better than you know yourself.
if you catch her muttering to herself, don't feel awkward, she's talking with the characters in her story, probably arguing about what happens next.
don't lie to her because she knows. she can see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice, sense it in your energy field. she pays attention to every detail of your every word and if you're not careful, she'll ask the question that strips your lie away and you'll be humiliated.
so tell the damn truth.
If something is wrong, you may as well tell her because she'll figure it out.When something is wrong, you may as well tell her because otherwise she'll jump to the most absurd, most outlandish, most creative but ridiculous possibilities anyone could ever come up with, and when the truth comes out and she tells you what she thought, you'll remind her she's crazy, and she'll remind you that she knows this because of the voices, and you'll both laugh and hug and go on with life.
It's easy to shop for a girl who writes: office supplies like sticky notes and pencils, calendars, and especially beautiful journals will bring her immense joy because she knows that blank paper is the beginning of a new person, a new life, a new world. and holding that blank notebook in her hands lets her feel the power she knows exists inside her soul.
If you find out she's upset, don't ask her why, just let her cry until she hands you her journal and goes to stand by the window until you finish reading her most recent entry. She could never tell you what was wrong with her mouth because her soul is in her hands. once you read that entry, skip back in her journal and read the parts about you, because if she handed you her journal and walked away, it means she wants you to read it. she wants you to know that she dreams about becoming your only love every night, and that she has the whole thing planned out.
then once you know the plan, carry it out. she'll play along.
she'll write the wedding invitations, and the baby announcements, and stories for your children. she'll write you letters in your lunch every day and put sweet sensual notes on your pillow in the evenings. she'll ramble on and on as you take long walks along the beach and tell you all about a world that doesn't exist, and people who were never born and will never die and whom she loves as much as she loves your children, because her characters are just more of her children.don't feel like you didn't help create them because chances are, if you love a girl who writes, there's a piece of you embedded in every hero, and a piece of herself in every heroine. you can sleep at night knowing that even after you both die, you'll both continue to live together in everyone else's minds through her books and stories, and you can live a thousand nights in stories that never end.
Date a girl who writes. She's hard to find because she's the one who stands in the corner of the room watching other people from a distance. She's the one who searches their faces and watches their body language. She stands close enough that she can hear but far enough away so that she won't be seen. She's a master at invisibility, and all the smart girls know she's the best at eavesdropping. They go to her for the gossip. She knows who is in love with who just by watching them.
You'll be a lucky man if you find her. She's the one with a journal in her hand, a notebook in her purse, scrap paper in her car, and pencils in her back pocket. she's always scribbling something, praying it won't evaporate before she gets it down onto paper. and because she's always scribbling, she's always looking down, and that's why you never noticed her before.
if you're lucky, you'll find her at a library or in a park or at a coffee shop or in an airport, drinking coffee and watching people or typing furiously at her computer. If you see her looking at you, look back and wait.
if she looks away she doesn't want to be interrupted and she doesn't want you to notice her, so pretend you don't. but if you can get her to look at you and not look away, she wants to talk to you. she's targeted you, pursuing you, inviting you. once she catches your eye, once she hears your voice that first time, she begins her profile. she's the one who will have your character in 10 seconds and have you completely profiled in 10 minutes.
after two weeks she'll know you better than you know yourself.
if you catch her muttering to herself, don't feel awkward, she's talking with the characters in her story, probably arguing about what happens next.
don't lie to her because she knows. she can see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice, sense it in your energy field. she pays attention to every detail of your every word and if you're not careful, she'll ask the question that strips your lie away and you'll be humiliated.
so tell the damn truth.
If something is wrong, you may as well tell her because she'll figure it out.When something is wrong, you may as well tell her because otherwise she'll jump to the most absurd, most outlandish, most creative but ridiculous possibilities anyone could ever come up with, and when the truth comes out and she tells you what she thought, you'll remind her she's crazy, and she'll remind you that she knows this because of the voices, and you'll both laugh and hug and go on with life.
It's easy to shop for a girl who writes: office supplies like sticky notes and pencils, calendars, and especially beautiful journals will bring her immense joy because she knows that blank paper is the beginning of a new person, a new life, a new world. and holding that blank notebook in her hands lets her feel the power she knows exists inside her soul.
If you find out she's upset, don't ask her why, just let her cry until she hands you her journal and goes to stand by the window until you finish reading her most recent entry. She could never tell you what was wrong with her mouth because her soul is in her hands. once you read that entry, skip back in her journal and read the parts about you, because if she handed you her journal and walked away, it means she wants you to read it. she wants you to know that she dreams about becoming your only love every night, and that she has the whole thing planned out.
then once you know the plan, carry it out. she'll play along.
she'll write the wedding invitations, and the baby announcements, and stories for your children. she'll write you letters in your lunch every day and put sweet sensual notes on your pillow in the evenings. she'll ramble on and on as you take long walks along the beach and tell you all about a world that doesn't exist, and people who were never born and will never die and whom she loves as much as she loves your children, because her characters are just more of her children.don't feel like you didn't help create them because chances are, if you love a girl who writes, there's a piece of you embedded in every hero, and a piece of herself in every heroine. you can sleep at night knowing that even after you both die, you'll both continue to live together in everyone else's minds through her books and stories, and you can live a thousand nights in stories that never end.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
way to go!
Geez. I haven't seen my grades, yet! MyUste, please don't prolong my agony! I am quite anxious to see how I did this semester. To state "I did my best" would be an understatement, seriously. I have poured my heart and soul to every commitment and I can't afford (and I don't know what will I do) to see myself slowly slipping from getting that Latin distinction. Please. Don't give me that look now, I know that grades do not make a man, but I am banking on the principle that, mag-aaral ka na nga lang, bakit hindi mo pa galingan?
Anyway, others have seen theirs and I'm quite envious that they have entered the site, without much ado.
My crush (haha!) happened to post his grades, and I was like O.O you already! I am contemplating on posting his grades since it's not mine in the first place, who am I to post such things? But come to think of it, he posted it on Facebook which means it is for public-consumption. HAHA. His grades inspired me to do better and give my best shot since it's the last semester and I am finally graduating. Another plus for you dude, way to go! *hands down*
Anyway, others have seen theirs and I'm quite envious that they have entered the site, without much ado.
My crush (haha!) happened to post his grades, and I was like O.O you already! I am contemplating on posting his grades since it's not mine in the first place, who am I to post such things? But come to think of it, he posted it on Facebook which means it is for public-consumption. HAHA. His grades inspired me to do better and give my best shot since it's the last semester and I am finally graduating. Another plus for you dude, way to go! *hands down*
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Thank You!
Finally! I could smell and taste my much-awaited sem break!
But before anything else (read: shopping, reading pocketbooks, partying, sleeping until wee hours) I would like to thank my first semester 'adventure' for letting me experience--happiness, struggles, anxiety and apprehension--in a jam-packed five-month-school-stay.
My Broadcast Journalism subject has opened my horizons and technical knowledge on "television mechanics." Today, I would critique some news programs especially now that i'm backed up with our lessons. Before, I would just dumbly watch a program on face value, now i know some camera angles, techniques and rules. Despite the struggles in meeting all the demands of the said subject, what mattered most was the experience and lessons gathered from every wanting days.
Non-academic wise, the last semester also taught me how to balance my time, endure conflicts within my paper organization, and end up with a smile painted on my face as if nothing happened.
Thank you, first semester, for that roller coaster ride!
But before anything else (read: shopping, reading pocketbooks, partying, sleeping until wee hours) I would like to thank my first semester 'adventure' for letting me experience--happiness, struggles, anxiety and apprehension--in a jam-packed five-month-school-stay.
My Broadcast Journalism subject has opened my horizons and technical knowledge on "television mechanics." Today, I would critique some news programs especially now that i'm backed up with our lessons. Before, I would just dumbly watch a program on face value, now i know some camera angles, techniques and rules. Despite the struggles in meeting all the demands of the said subject, what mattered most was the experience and lessons gathered from every wanting days.
Non-academic wise, the last semester also taught me how to balance my time, endure conflicts within my paper organization, and end up with a smile painted on my face as if nothing happened.
Thank you, first semester, for that roller coaster ride!
Bianca and Cj's birthday celebration in Shakey's. *photo courtesy of Bianca* |
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