A Part, Apart

I see you.
Blood.
Sweat.
Tears.
But I wasn't there.

I feel you.
Joy.
Stress.
Sadness.
But I wasn't there.

I hear you.
Laughter.
Grumble.
Whimper.
But I wasn't there.

I was a part, apart.
Like some missing piece.
I wanted to reach
Out into where you are.
But I wasn't there.

Ain't No Way

Ain't No Way

Aretha Franklin

C12H22O11

Should I wait for the sugar to down this bitter pill?
'Cause it's been sitting here for a while
In my closed mouth, on my very tongue.
Should I wait to trade sadness for a smile?

Water might be cold,
And it just might do the trick.
But the fleeting moment through my throat,
Might make me yearn the kick.

I might just get used to
The pricks my buds feel.
The plastic must have melted
But I'm waiting here still.

(8:19 7/27/2012 Dorm Room) He didn't reply.

"You may look for it - but don't waste your time looking for it." (Pascual, 2012)

On looking for a rare blood cell in a blood smear...

...but I related it to the constant quest for love.

Crispy Nuggets of Wisdom #1: The Pen

When I was younger, I couldn't understand the need to shift from using pencils to using pens. Why would anyone want to write with something you can't erase? Now, I guess grown ups have their own twisted way of showing you that when we get older, there are some things we couldn't take back.


P.S. And when we try to cover our mistakes with the same pen, we only make things messier.

L'il Red Riding Hood

L'il Red Riding Hood

Amanda Seyfried

For the Love that don't fit in the mold.
For the Love that strives to exist.
For Love. For Love.

Hypocrates

Hypocrates

Marina & The Diamonds

Electra Heart

Contemplation: A Man Never Forgotten

It's been two years. And one word other than his name which signifies his position over me would flood me with memories. It's the lotto numbers that I would list every 9:00. It's the back-scratcher that would always find its way under the bed. It's the serious conversations that would make me afraid, understand things better, or both. But that same word would also fill myself with so much love and affection. It's the ice cream in the fridge for every occasion. It's the key that would always let us in the bedroom when Mom locks us out.  It's the 5 o'clock shadow that would sting my cheeks. It's the long walk from the dormitory to the school he always wanted me to be in.

In my constant search for love two images would suffice: him hugging my mother on a daybed without either of them saying a word, and him crying at a hospital bench when she got confined for a complication caused by a disease they both share.

I see him in nearly everything even when I close my eyes.

They say that we fear death because we don't want to be forgotten. But how could we when he has left us with enough to fill each day to the brim? So Daddy, don't you fret.

Wide Awake: A Review

Wide Awake

Katy Perry

Teenage Dream: The Complete Confection

Drama: ON. I don't know why, but after watching this music video, I have gained more respect for Katy Perry. It showed something deeper than the literally candy-covered chapters of her life. It showed that even the media kills you and masks who you really are and that fame could make you do the things you never wanted to.

Commenting on the graphics, it's has the typical music video over-coloration and over-drama, except for the street scene for the kid which was reminiscent of Last Friday Night. You can also spot references to her other music videos. (It's part of Pop Culture now. Go ahead and point those out.) My favorite shot would be the close up of the bitten strawberry in the hand of one crippled Katy Perry (OOH rhymes!). Now that I think of it, maybe it signified the weakness of holding on to what holds you down.

"Keep doing what you're doing and you'll keep getting what you're getting." (Rubian, 2006)

The Broken Ones

The Broken Ones

Dia Frampton

Red

Places

Beneath the grass beneath my feet,

But above the clouds above my head.

Inside the heart inside my chest,

Within the crevices within my head.

They're all the places where people die

But places you never cease to exist.

It's the people you leave behind

That make you feel you're missed.

I love you Dad, so much. 

(8:08 06/17/2012 Daddy's Office)

The Problem with Pink and Plastic

You can't have it all. You may have a job and a man, but in one way or another the inferiority complex would drive him to the point of curiosity. The pink interiors don't help either. I guess you wouldn't see Barbie going around and supporting Gay groups, then.

In the Dollhouse, a shoot by Dina Goldstein answers the question which boggled me first when I was in my first year of college: "What does it feel like to be dumped by a boyfriend for another guy?" A scary thought indeed with me answering, "Maybe it wouldn't hurt so much given that you're not the problem. It's him." or "You're still dumped, worst case for a man." But I guess these photos would suffice for that pink spiral downwards.

I just posted three photos but look for the whole shoot here and here.

An AVP for the Public Herald

(Some parts of this video are taken from YouTube)

Monday Morning

Monday Morning

Christina Aguilera

Bionic (Deluxe Edition)

Of Pills and Synths

In pursuit of finding out who I am, I was fazed with the quick surge of Korean Pop culture due to one band (I shall not name). It bothered me to points where I got out of my usual pity-party self and realized how happy I could really be. Even my friends say they haven't seen me this happy.

Then why make a fuss out of being happy? I'd instantaneously say that this is not my usual self. Adele has been a part of my then-usual playlist. I'd mix in some Christina Aguilera for attitude and angst and maybe sprinkle some Lily Allen to sweeten the "[expletive]" pot. Maybe I was that angry or deprived. Whatever that was, I would really want to know. Ask a psychologist maybe? I have not yet come to terms to what I want to feel everyday - escaping with happiness or staying to fight some unhappy war. And deep within this war myself clashes with what I really am in the moment, happy or sad? Happy to be happy or sad to be happy because happy wasn't really me? Do I even deserve to be happy? One thing's for sure, however. Whatever this happiness is, it has redirected my attention from what could have been to what could be. It has taken me from that pit of loneliness into some fine line where I'm left to argue with myself and even reach to self-hate. Maybe I'd choose a side, but that would be days from now.

With all this pain of figuring myself out I have remembered the red pill-blue pill situation of having yourself know the truth but deal with the pain that comes with it or retract to some blissful ignorance. This made me realize how people would have wanted to forget some things in their own past. Even I have some things that I want gone. Things I've said and done. Things I knew. Things gone. What do you get from detachment from the truth? Lies, yes, but do you think that you'd still be you after it?  You wouldn't - and maybe that's everybody's point for undoing things. You could have seen something else if it weren't for that big event that changed your life forever. But everybody rises up from those moments of weakness and become stronger than they were before. Tuesdays with Morrie indicates that "If you hold back on the emotions-if you don't allow yourself to go all the way through them--you can never get to being detached [from the pain], you're too busy being afraid." Then it is okay to bathe in the pain. To bask in every single agony only to be free from it eventually. Swords don't get better if they haven't been put in the hottest of flames and hit several times with a hammer. Strength is getting by and surviving when you're the one in heat and not getting eaten by flames into ash. The pain today is infinitesimal to the joy of making it out intact. And to trade them for nothing would make you weak when a harder blow comes.

Ignorance is bliss but the truth is a privilege.

Since KPop, I have eventually took a liking for electronica, a far more unusual cry from the guitar strums, piano keys and horns my iPod usually carries. And somehow I was happy, unfortunately because of the detachment from reality Pop music brings. But without it, I would've never seen the absurdity of the reason of my sadness.  Thank goodness the pills are figments of man's imagination.

Tweet Something Journal-Worthy: Twitter for Academic Papers

I never knew that there would come a day that "a little birdie" would eventually be a reliable source in anything academic. Given the state of Social Networking and Education, it would take years before people see the true advantage of the likes of Twitter and Facebook in studying. I'd be struck with lightning if I say that social networking is making my grades better. I'd rather find people to chat with or tweet how boring it is getting out of bed just to grab a bite than open a tab for that rainbow of learning. Hey, I know I'm not the only one.

Escaping from school is not an option, neither is blowing it up. So we better embrace the inevitable. And now that thesis writing is near (by about a year), I better get a move on and find something academically worthy - not to mention so weird and cool. So here it is: Twitter and Academics.

I don't even know the amount of tweets in the world, but I do know it's many, and I'm pretty sure most of it is garbage in the spectacles of education. But I guess there are a few gems somewhere and all we gotta do is dig deep.

Sidenotes are at my source.
Rules are at the source of my source.

Indestructible

Indestructible (Acoustic Version)

Robyn

Body Talk

Say Goodbye

Say Goodbye

Katharine McPhee

Unbroken

Into The Future

STS was a breath of fresh air after all the prerequisite subjects and the GEs that seek attention like major subjects. Though full of papers, I find myself actually looking deeper into technology and myself, and how I have greatly changed over the years growing up with the internet. And of everything I have learned, I loved the topic of what’s coming next in a few years, decades, millennia.

The mere fact that people can imagine things way before their time could ever have the technologies to make them projects the possibility of the impossible. How anything that does not disprove any known laws of physics could still hold water no matter how absurd it is today. How a possible discovery could question formulations that stood as bases for nearly everything. The possibilities are endless to a point that whatever we can conjure up in our heads could actually be true. Even fairytales could have been parallel universes that have reached our minds that have detached from the frequency of the earth to tap the frequency of a “fork in a river”. How there could have been alternate realities of what could have happened. The “what ifs” in life that haunt you every single day is just another world away. The day you should’ve said yes when he proposed. They day you should’ve showed up on a date. The day you should’ve kept your urges jarred. The day you should’ve told the person how you really felt. The day you should’ve gone home to spend a Father’s day with your dad. The fact is, I could go on and tell what people could’ve had or lost if only they knew the consequences. What only limits us is the level of advancement the world is in now to live in what we dream of.

And on the same day, the last day, a golden nugget of inspiration has been dropped to signify what it really is to live and to be educated. “Slope of a line is rise over run. So Rise after every fall rather than run from every challenge.” (Espinosa, 2012)

I guess anything is possible when we try. If we only tried.

This comes from my paper on STS about my favorite topic. Thank you. :D

Broken Butterflies

It's somehow peaceful to see a butterfly perched still, with wings wide open. And even the gory thought of lost wings or the sadness of incapability is overshadowed by the calmness of the set of Broken Butterflies. Inspire! Look at them here.

Time moves but I don't.

Time moves but you won't.

Time moves but we don't.

Time moves but I don't.

(7:47 05/16/12 Dorm Room)

World of Chances

World of Chances

Demi Lovato

Here We Go Again

This is the beauty of listening to material not released as singles. There is a certain quality of truth hidden in them. And last night when I listened to this particular song, I instantly wanted to put it on replay. This is a collaboration between John Mayer and Demi Lovato and it tells about untaken chances and how you know they'll regret it one day. Enjoy!

[Photo from a tagged photo in facebook]

Happy Mother's Day!

Ninang Len, My Mom and Me (circa recently)

Joining the bandwagon! But I do love her nonetheless. <3 I love you mom. So much. I know you don't approve of my super long locks, and now I do see why in this picture. Maybe I should just keep it at a certain length. Oh well. This post is about you and all the things you went through to keep us sane and insane (but mostly sane). Your life is a masterpiece worthy of a novel (hindi sapat ang MMK kasi medyo corny na yun ngayon). I love you so much, the stars wouldn't be enough to bribe me from loving you, because I know you outshine them all. Even though you bury me with criticism, I'd forget them soon afterwards and keep on living my life, it's me who determines it, but I'd always ask for guidance when the road gets rough. I love you, Mom.

Paper Frogs.

With a father working at home as an attorney, there was an abundance of paper in the house. Jimmy always had time in the summer, given that he'd wake up quite early to swim in the river to avoid the muddy hours of the day. And by eight or nine in the morning, depending on the temperature of the day, he'd walk home dripping wet from head to toe. When he reaches home, he would take a basin and change, placing the wet clothes in it to avoid his mother scolding him for mixing the wet laundry with the dry ones. And after a quick bath, the rest of the day was his. Well, what makes today any different was the huge pile of papers lying around the office next to the personal computer. He was sure they were scratch papers, after some incident before of getting scolded for using some "lawyer's copy" documents which made him avoid striking a conversation with his father for a few days. With a little bit of reassurance, he took a few sheets from the pile and went to the dining room table to stare at them.

"AFFIDAVIT OF LOSS" was written at the top. It was a weird word. he couldn't even spell it when he hears it over his fathers conversations in the living room with his clients. He folded the paper diagonally and tore off the extra paper to make a square. But even he hasn't a clue with what to do with the square sheet of paper. So he left it at that and ate a snack at his same place at the table. He drew a stereotypical rice paddy complete with a sun peering behind two mountains. After the inverted V of a nipa hut roof, he stared at the drawing and tried desperately to add a carabao. Why? All the "best drawings" in school had them. The carabao gave a sure spot in the list, with a feature of the drawing in the school paper. But since he wasn't considered much of a pencil genius, the animal was disproportional. He smirked at the sight and his eyes caught a glimpse of the square piece of paper. His mom came out from the kitchen and saw him staring at something. She approached and took the drawing with her, and placed it neatly on the fridge, framing it with  refrigerator magnets, which she collected from the family's summer getaways, which they haven't had yet for this particular one due to the need to monitor the sugarcane farm in some far barangay. He's still happy though, he was more of a home person.

The day went on, with the paper square still on the table. And by the next day, after the river routine, he saw a paper frog on the same place where the square used to be. He stared long enough to notice that he hasn't changed his clothes leaving a puddle near the dining table, and he quickly ran to finish up and dry the floor with a rug. He sat down and stared at it. By about a few minutes, he took it and held it in his hands.

"Like what I had done?" and he quickly turned to his right to find his father walking towards the seat opposite him. He nodded, and his dad took the frog and placed it on the table. He pressed at the tail and released his finger, projecting the frog towards Jimmy, whose eyes are wide in amusement by now.

"You know, when frogs die, it rains." And the summer heat has been so immense that season that not a single drop of water came down the whole vacation. Yet deep in his mind, how could one opt to benefit from a kill? But knowing the financial problems of keeping a farm, he took the origami frog and ripped it, much to the shock of his father.

"You could always make one again. It doesn't have a life you know."

And after a few minutes, the sky cried.

[Image Source]

Broken Houses

Instead of writing a story for tonight, I decided to introduce you to some artistic photography. Don't worry! I might write one on the road and put it here for your viewing pleasure tomorrow. Going back to the art of the photograph, which is usually underrated due to the lack of skill it needs relative to painting and sculpting. But then again, a photography, like most visual art helps us see something that we might have missed or something that we bore ourselves looking at but now in a different angle or light. Hence, I present to you Broken Houses by Ofra Lapid.

Well, from what I have read, the artist starts taking photos of houses that have been abandoned and left to rot by humans, made models out of them, and photographed them again on a blank background. The result? An eerie yet homey effect; a reflection of abandonment of a person's dreams, lives, memories and regrets; and a reminder of what's left from moving on. The things you own, owned, keep, and kept is a fragment of who you are. And I myself could't come to the thought of saying goodbye to anything, thus turning me into a hoarder of memories I try to hard to not let slip away. (Note: A ticket for Enchanted Kingdom for the day I unexpectedly saw someone I know is now a bookmark to an anthology I turn to for inspiration.)

See more of the collection here. Enjoy!

It's ironic how people drown relying on paper boats.

(8:16 05/08/12 Dorm Room)

Paper Airplanes

Paper Airplanes

JoJo

"I'd rather not make an enemy of those with rose-tinted spectacles, cause when anger gets the best of them, all they would see is red."

(8:43 05/01/2012 Dorm Room)

Strong Enough

Strong Enough

Stacie Orrico

Stacie Orrico

P.S. I haven't blogged for a week. Why? I took a break to realize some things and immersing myself knee-deep into music. And The latest revelation came through this song, which I just heard yesterday, sent by a friend. Thank you so much. It's been a while since I listened to Stacie Orrico, and now, I see her in a different light. 

Rectangular Frames

We need to talk.

I just entered the house, opened a tub of ice cream and curled up on the left side of the couch.

Yes, I'm crying. No, don't come here to my side and wipe them. I always get to see just a glimmer of your eyes. Let me see them. Let me take your glasses off. Let me see them. I just love how big and brown they are. Yes, I'm sure that you don't need to wipe them off.

You know, I know you don't love me. I could see that. Yes, in your eyes. I could also feel you drift further away, not like you were close to begin with. But, I do know you try. You try so hard to find it in you. But you don't. You never call to check up on me. You never finish the meals I made you. Stop! Let me finish. You never tell me that you love me when no one is around. You don't touch the cupcakes I make, they're still in the fridge. You never reply when I text. You never came to events I wanted you to. But in all those things, I try to not mind. I know how stubborn you are. I know how lazy you get to. And somehow, that's why I love you.

You can't say that I never tried. I always did. I try to help you get closer to me, so that it would be easier for the both of us. I gave you everything I can, with enough space. I never got jealous, because you'd complain when I do. I wanted to give you freedom from all my pains. That's why I try to resolve my own problems because I didn't want to add to yours.

I know it's hard for you to hear what I'm saying. But you should know that it's even harder for me. I can't tell you how much it just pains me to see you everyday hoping and praying you'd fall in love with me again - if you did love me before. The most painful part in whatever it is between us is hoping, not the waiting. I could wait forever for you to love me when I do know you will, but I couldn't hope that long when my soul just wears thin knowing you won't.

I got my bags packed and the taxi would be coming soon. Please, don't stop me. I love you so much. You were my world. You fueled all the wonderful things that I could do now. But could never see how you look at me through these glasses. I could trade a day in my life to just see and feel what you feel when you see me, but then again, I already know how that feels. And it's killing me. You can have these back.

I love you so much. So much.

And I bit my lip to refrain from crying. 15 minutes until the cab comes.


I hear keys and footsteps.


"Hello, dear! Sorry I'm late. The traffic was a killer," he says. "Oh, you have ice cream. Whatever for?"


We need to talk.

Mood Swings

You push me forward. Gravity pulls me back. I never seem to go around.

(12:24 am, 03/21/12, Dorm)

Anybody's Heart

Anybody's Heart

Katharine McPhee

Unbroken

P.S. I have finally found the song to sum every single pain, reflecting just enough of me to fit to a T. Childish croo-ing to the excruciating lyrics in simple band-aid words. I have found the song of the week in an album I shunned. Make you reconsider, no?

Good Reads: Why I'm Sick of Adele

It's rare that you find very funny yet true bashing articles in the web. As a feature writer, I appreciate her approach on a matter that is relevant and up to date. Adele is now a worldwide phenomenon, why? It's because of her latest album, no fillers, just every word jam-packed-and-overflowing with what Irene Zutell says as "excruciating pain". Yet, given her circumstances, it's inevitable to get sick of Adele when every single time, you just feel ugly heartbroken, or you just don't have the time to sit at the corner crying over a loss so great. No one could have written the article any better. It's funny and oh so true.

Read it here!

[Photo]

Traveling

(7:34 04/10/12 Dorm Room)

[Background Source]

Wild Horses

Wild Horses

Natasha Bedingfield

Unwritten

I see your glasses. 

I wonder what your eyes see. 

I wonder what they look like. 

I wonder if you look at me.

(4:49 04/06/12 Computer Room)

Get Inspired: Minimalist Childhood

I have loved a lot of things about my own childhood. And until now, I couldn't even shake the sweetest feeling of touching a Lego brick. It brings back a lot of memories, even to this day. I could still remember fussing about making a face or head when one wasn't available in the set. So when desperation sinks in, I'd use an expressionless yellow brick - but it wouldn't feel the same.

Now that I have matured a little bit and opened my eyes to minimalism, I could now appreciate even the slightest of things. Hence, my first "Get Inspired" Post.

Never Let Me Go

Never Let Me Go

Florence + The Machines

Ceremonials

I present to you my current obsession: Never Let Me Go by Florence + The Machines. Off the whole album, this one struck me the most. Even through crappy speakers, I could feel the song pulling me into the deep, losing my mind for a moment.

On the song, I guess I haven't delved quite deep into indie music, but I do appreciate the band even the lead, Florence Welsh. Her voice isn't what you normally hear in "bands", which is great! The band is something different and the music they do is so ethereal in their current album, which for me is a take on religion and its whole she-bang. The track featured today is no exception. From it, I could feel like I have been eaten by a big wave, dives underwater and just drowned though still alive. Her vocals have the calming effect most especially felt when they get stretched to a near falsetto. The echoing choir, piano, and drums also help in the effect of the undersea and the rain. The lyrics have also the addiction of water and just letting yourself go into the deep even when you keep on saying to someone else never let you go.

The point has been driven further by the video, which need not to be explained much, because at times, even I couldn't understand. But from what I see, it would just simulate the feeling of the song. The possible plot would be the woman the lead plays is a ghost of a drowned victim revisiting a lover, which is in itself a reminder to never let her memory go. Even that is heartbreaking.

Ketchup Packet

My heart is a ketchup packet,

Vulnerable at the perforated edges.

Outside, it's plastic and metal;

Inside, it's like everyone else's.

I'd rather you tear it up

At it's zigzag seams.

For you to use it up is what 

The red within me dreams.

Oh, to die for a cause

By giving my all.

To risk something from a short life

All for another's call.

I try to present myself better

But no one looks for packets anymore.

How could I compete

When the whole world just wants more?

So on the table I'll wait

Until you find what you need.

But I can't be here forever

When life tells me to proceed.

(8:32 PM, 03/30/12, Computer Room at Home)

[Photo]

Weak

Weak

JoJo

JoJo

Song of the Apprehensive

I see you from afar.

I wish you'd start the conversation.

All I ask for is courage

To talk to you in person.

You're with your friends.

You barely look my direction.

All I ask for is the chance

To talk to you in person.

Then I start to speak,

Yet fails in diction and execution.

All I ask for is the time

To talk to you in person.

So I wait instead,

But you never wonder my position.

All I ask for is you

To talk to me in person.

(10:17, 01/17/2012, Dorm Room)

Photo by: Charca Manilay

I'll Never Forget You

I'll Never Forget You

Birdy

Birdy

The Afterparty

I found myself walking along a nearly empty avenue, given that the cars were only coming and going by at some rate of 1 car for every 5 minutes. There wasn't much people by the road at 7 in the morning of a Sunday, compared to those of the weekdays - and it was a good thing, given my condition.

It was the afterparty. No, not the afterparty party. It's what happens next to the main event and no one moves to another location to prolong the boozefest. I was the scene of a 'mess', and I could't put 'Hot' in front of the word. It was the aftermath of a party, now described more aptly.

I have finally theorized that "The aftermath of a party is the antithesis of it's glamour." And even I couldn't escape it. I was finally at at point where I leave someone else's condo (where I just slept over, not humped over) with a very desperate attempt of making a new look out of last night's formalwear to trick the guards I lived there without them questioning if I stole or killed anything, or anybody - which I'd stress out did not. And I tell you, going out with what you wore the evening before was like any late fashion get up, so last night/season/year.

But then again, the ugliest part was not getting out - it was walking back to your place that made me look and feel like a total mess, even when i only drank a glass of blue liquor. A failed hand-combed beadhair and an untucked shirt with unbuckled shoes carrying nothing but pastel colored loot boxes and a memorabilia photo. And the sad part is: I was, while looking like a sad excuse for a partygoer, singing in the light wind to Adele.

Which made me realize: Why does life suck when I have done nothing wrong?

Or maybe it was my heart last night seeing people - yes, plural - I really like but couldn't tell what I was feeling. Or the feeling of losing a pen and a necktie. Or the feeling of getting a hug that would just release hormones all around the room. Or maybe it was me, walking alone along the street to my place feeling like punching Adele in the face for the song-inflicted heartache.

One more block to go before I get to my bed, I'd really like to sleep this one out. Maybe my heart is like my stomach, who forgets being hungry every time I wake up.

Somewhere out there

Or somewhere by my side

In waiting in the cold air

'Til our souls collide

(10:10 PM, 02/08/12)

Don't You Remember

Don't You Remember
Adele
21

Ang Babaeng Nasa Balkonahe

Nababahiran na ng dugo ang langit;

Animo’y nakikidalamhati sa akin.

At sa ilang saglit lahat ay didilim,

Lalabas ang mga lampara at bituin.

Ako’y naghihintay habang gumuguni

Sa araw na tila laging lumulubog.

Hindi pa ba ito nasikat sa aking paningin,

Lumiliwanag lang sa aking pagtulog?

Oh Araw, bakit hindi pa sa oras mo

Kumikilos ang lalaking umiibig?

Bagkos sa dilim lang sumesenyas,

Walang kimi ngunit nananalig.

Nakatataba man ng puso

Ang pagsinta sa liham, tula at harana,

Ngunit wala akong mahihinuha

Sa bulag na pag-ibig ng isang makata.

Mga kilos mo ang aking kailangan

At hindi ang mga bulaklak sa iyong bibig.

Kamay, paa, katawan ng lalaki –

Ang kayumanging kaligatan – ang aking iniibig.

Ipakita mo sa akin, gamit ng iyong gawa,

Ang dugong nananalaytay sa pagnanais

Sa pag-ibig at kalayaan ng aking puso

‘Pagkat ang panahon ay mapagmalabis.

Hindi lingid sa isip ko

Karahasan ng aking sasabihin:

Puso’y hindi sa akin para ibigay,

Ngunit sa inyo na angkinin.

Oh Haring Gabi, ‘wag ka pang dumating!

Ninanais ko pa ang araw.

Hintayin pa ang pulang belo na maglaho

Bago ikaw tuluyang dumalaw.

(1:12 PM, 02/26/12, Computer Room of the House)

Hello! I shall post a translation of this soon! :)

(Image Source)

Inspiration: Kundiman

by Jose Rizal

Tunay ngayong umid yaring diwa at puso

Ang bayan palibhasa'y api, lupig at sumuko.

Sa kapabayaan ng nagturong puno

Paglaya'y nawala, ligaya'y naglaho!

Datapuwa't muling sisikat ang maligayang araw

Pilit na maliligtas ang inaping bayan

Magbabalik man din at laging sisikat

Ang ngalang Tagalog sa sandaigdigan!

Ibubuhos namin ang dugo'y ibabaha

Ng matubos lamang ang sa Amang Lupa!

Hanggang 'di sumapit ang panahong tadhana

Sinta ay tatahimik, tutuloy ang nasa!

Sinta ay tatahimik at tutuloy ang nasa!

O Bayan kong mahal

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Edit: HARING LEAR: Insanity at Its Most Complex

The Shakespearean Pieta: The King holding his beloved daughter who has done no wrong but be truthful and frank.

Feudal Japanese Clothing, Post-Apocalyptic Setting, Shakespearean Madness, Bald Actors, Filipino Language: Five things I would never think of being mixed, prepared and served.


But then again, I haven't seen much of anything really. So a fresh take on anything would be a wonderful slice of heaven after days when you just feel so "toxic".


So what else is in this bowl? Well, we could add great new friends, a possibility of acting the lead and relatively good seats to the mix. And when the mix is cooked and served, it comes in this wonderful white post-modernist box, the PETA Theater Center, lined with red and an eye-catching Neo-Filipino piece that looks into the history of the theater. What's inside is most probably the most eye catching of all. A red large room, decorated with destroyed paper lanterns, with some of them having the backbones to keep its shape. In addition to the post-apocalyptic state of the room, there were chandeliers with the covers nearly torn and an amazing throne of bamboo with a crown floating above the seater's head before the backdrop of bamboo frames that seemed to remind me of Encantada. I felt I was where I was supposed to be by merely entering the theater.


Given the setting, I would have never guessed what my gustation would come across: Shakespeare's King Lear. But with this new take on a classic, directed by Nonon Padilla, and being all-accepting as I am, I carried on with so much more excitement - more particularly with their clothing. Putting the Samurai skirts against the tight cotton tight tops was a flash genius! I would have never thought such fashion could be so modern and refined, most especially for men, since the Japanese fashion have only influenced female fashion, seen in the likes of Alexander McQueen. Furthermore, clothing ranged in limited colors of black - yes, shades of black, some very dark maroons, and even a few grays. This is in stark contrast to the whites of the main characters, Cordelia and Lear. The King's wardrobe has shifted from a dark-colored summer-polo-and-cargos combo to an added garbage bag cape and crown to a white Old English Top and tights ensemble that has defined his enlightenment and short-lived triumph. Cordelia's piece is what I truly applaud, for its versatility and simplicity. The immaculate white of the torso-fit dress which becomes matched with a lot of pieces like a white fan and gold tiara, a right-arm armor and a helmet with a large white feather, and even a wrap of clear plastic upon her death.


The furniture is mostly of Asian accents, mostly Filipino and Japanese. From the recyclables from native and natural elements to the everyday yet torn and time-punished pieces. The set also has a thing with small lights, present at the collar pieces of the evil sister's clothing and the crown in the throne. It is a nice touch to have the crown and scepter, symbols of kingly power hanging above the head of the seater. It is interesting to a point where the these items closely related to power is left on a throne, which would likely be related to the complete relinquishing of his land, and thus his power, to his two older daughters.


One of the best things about this take on Madness would be the switch of tongues, with a greater preference to the native one, without sacrificing the beauty of figures of speech in the original text. The sparing use of English in sometimes mocking, show-off, and/or emphasis-needed lines made it more attractive and appealing to the audience.


Time-lapses could be really confusing, given the common use of swords and horses which then shifts to a gun and very large electric fans, to shower-induced rains, and rain-coats. But the interest lies with this play of from-the-future parts in an old story retold.


Lastly, I would comment on the actors - yes, gender sensitively - actors, which are all male by birth. Having everyone except Lear to be bald is another form of playing with contrasts giving the viewer more focus on the King, which might have been played by many an understudy or double, given the length of some lines. The British Council is good at its art, which packages the whole shebang. The set, the lights, and most especially its actors who could carry a tune, and methodically be in character. The way they portray encompasses the humanness of humans, giving their disillusionment, swaying views and stands, and even their clam-ups to save themselves from the hurt that society or, even worse, the real world is throwing at them. Well, this is what I see. Some points to note are the scene of the eye-gouging, which is taken in a very admiring manner of complexity, more and less gore, and an ending to an act which would even make you gouge your own eyes; the fight scenes (a not so hunky, but still hunky guy to spot!) which would have needed much help, though knowingly, we must understand that violence is hard to fake; and lastly, the most amazing part of all, the ending with a thousand (an over exaggeration) quotes and excerpts, starting from T.S. Eliot, from cast standing between randomly placed lit candles in wire candle sticks.


I never knew a Post-Apocalyptic Cake could be heavenly.

Heap. Pile. Tower.

Recollections. The HARING LEAR memorabilia I had bought. It features photos, videos and a lot more. But the best part is the Packaging.

As of now, I am under loads of stuff to do! But not to fear! I shall keep posting - for this is the only thing keeping me sane right now. My Zoology classes have been piling like crazy, Chemistry is now accululating under my feet, and not a single word has been written for my PI 100 (Philippine Institutions 100, A Study on Jose Rizal) Literature.

But what I would like to discuss now are the objects of interest in this blog: The Literature and The Arts. Under Literature, I have under my wing are a list of PI100 requirements (an Essay about an Essay, a free-verse and a pantoum about a poem, and a short story on a minimal character in Noli Me Tangere), contributions to WAYWAYA, the university publication, and a HUM1 redo of my previously posted review on HARING LEAR. My professor - but more likely I - has given me a short time to accomplish this make-over for a possibility to be published in some paper/journal/hard material. While I am under a lot of pressure in thinking of topics for new material for the "mini-book" of the university.

In the arts, I am tasked to play the role of King Lear in a HUM1 class rendering of the eponymous play. So here's to a week dedicated to a slur of lines to memorize - or read from a dummy sheet. HARING LEAR was supposed to be the wood to start the fire of the play going and I ended up thrilled and scared shitless to be leading it. At least with it, I have now cleaned my colon.

So, here's to the rest of the semester and hoping I make it out alive. :D

P.S. I'd like to comment on the amazing packaging of the memorabilia above. The post apocalypse in the setting is well reflected by the pamphlet that even the lead is encased in a sheet of plastic, much so the part where he has finally turned mad. His eyes are covered with a paper similar to onion skin to give the strange lingering feeling of being bound to such madness.

I close my eyes to escape. So when he comes and I come falling, I close my eyes to escape.

(December 31, 2011)

HARING LEAR: Insanity at Its Most Complex

Feudal Japan Clothing, Post-Apocalyptic Setting, Shakespearean Madness, Bald Actors, Filipino Language: Five things I would never think of being put into a pot to be served.

But then again, I haven't seen much of anything really. So a fresh take on anything would be a wonderful slice of heaven after days when you just feel so "toxic".

So what else is in this pot? Well, we could add great new friends, a possibility of acting the lead and relatively good seats to the mix. And when the mix is cooked and served, it comes in this wonderful white post-modernist box, the PETA Theater Center, lined with red and an eye-catching Neo-Filipino piece that looks into the history of the theater. What's inside is most probably the most eye catching of all. A red large room, decorated with destroyed paper lanterns, with some of them having the backbones to keep its shape. In addition to the post-apocalyptic state of the room, there were chandeliers with the covers nearly torn and an amazing throne of bamboo with a crown floating above the seater's head before the backdrop of bamboo frames that seemed to remind me of Encantada. I felt I was where I was supposed to be by merely entering the theater.

Given the setting, I would have never guessed Shakespeare's Hamlet was going to be seen. But with this new take on a classic, directed by Nonon Padilla - and being all-accepting as I am, I carried on with much more excitement - more evidently with their clothing. The Samurai skirts against the tight cotton tight tops were so genius! I would have never though such fashion could be so modern and refined, most especially for men, since the Japanese fashion have influenced the likes of Alexander McQueen. Furthermore, clothing ranged in limited colors of black - yes, shades of black, some very dark maroons, and even a few grays. This is in stark contrast to the whites of the main characters, Cordelia and Lear, who have changed from a dark-colored summer-polo-and-cargos combo to an added garbage bag cape and crown to a white Old English Top and tights ensemble fit for a king. Cordelia's piece is what I truly applaud, for its versatility and simplicity.. The immaculate white of the torso-fit dress which becomes matched with a lot of pieces like a white fan and gold tiara, a right-arm armor and a helmet with a large white feather, and even a wrap of clear plastic upon her death.

The furniture is mostly of Asian accents, mostly Filipino and Japanese. From the recyclables from native and natural elements to the everyday yet torn and time-punished pieces. The set also has a thing with small lights, present at the collar pieces of the evil sister's clothing and the crown in the throne. It is a nice touch to have the crown and scepter, symbols of kingly power hanging above the head of the seater. It is interesting to a point where the these items closely related to power is left on a throne, which would likely be related to the complete relinquishing of his land, and thus his power, to his two older daughters.

One of the best things about this take on Madness would be the switch of tongues, with a greater preference to the native one, without sacrificing the beauty of figures of speech in the original text. The sparing use of English in sometimes mocking, show-off, and emphasis-needed lines made it more attractive and appealing to the audience.

Time-lapses could be really confusing, given the common use of swords and horses which then shifts to a gun and very large electric fans, to shower-induced rains, and rain-coats. But the interest lies with this play of from-the-future parts in an old story retold.

Lastly, I would comment on the actors - yes, gender sensitively - actors, which are all male by birth. Having everyone except Lear to be bald is another form of playing with contrasts giving the viewer more focus on the King, which might have been played by many an understudy or double, given the length of some lines. The British Council is good at its art, which packages the whole shebang. The set, the lights, and most especially its actors who could carry a tune, and methodically be in character. The way they portray encompasses the humanness of humans, giving their disillusionment, swaying views and stands, and even their clam-ups to save themselves from the hurt that society or, even worse, the real world is throwing at them. Well, this is what I see. Some points to note are the scene of the eye-gouging, which is taken in a very admiring manner of complexity, more and less gore, and an ending to an act which would even make you gouge your own eyes; the fight scenes (a not so hunky, but still hunky guy to spot!) which would have needed much help, though knowingly, we must understand that violence is hard to fake; and lastly, the most amazing part of all, the ending with a thousand (an over exaggeration) quotes and excerpts, starting from T.S. Eliot, from cast standing between randomly placed lit candles in wire candle sticks.

I never knew a Post-Apocalyptic Cake would be heavenly.

Photo from Haring Lear Memorabilia CD.

Haring Lear is wonderful with friends who appreciate the necessity of silence inside a theater. Thank you BSN '14 for having me and my friend Karla. The rides to and fro have been awesome. - xoxo, Dondie. 

The Morning After

(2:21, 02/15/12, White Sheets, Lying on bed)

Photo backdrops from: (Sources 1 2 3)

Cupcake Girl

Blue and white stripes.
A big red sequined heart.
A box of cupcakes to match.
She walks these halls.
She stops to pause
A friend she comes across.

And with her hands,
She opens up
A huge tupperware
Of the little red things
Dolloped with cream cheese
Motioning him to receive.

He then reaches out
Then gives her a smile
Saying to her: "Thank you."
And as she puts
The lid back on
He repeats to her "Thank you."

She then looks up.
A sweet smile on her face.
A sweeter smile on his.
And with a goodbye,
A little red thing In his heart was set ablaze.

(Some time between 2:00 to 2:20, 02/14/12, cubicle or desk in CAS Library)

Happy Valentines Day!

Photo by: Elysse "Cupcake Girl" Salindo

Bound to You

Bound To You

Christina Aguilera

There is something very eerily beautiful with Bound To You. The richness of Aguilera's voice to the sincerity of each word in the composition. And by some things I could not grasp, I fell in love with this song above all others from the same movie.

Starting with the composition, I could really tell the honesty of every word. The emotions of a woman too strong for too long, needing nobody, now finding herself falling for someone for the first time. The fears of a first love and the greatness of giving in to it, forgetting your past, forgetting your fears and diving in head first to the murky future, with your love leading you and guiding you through. This battle of letting go and clamming up is a timeless beauty.

Then with the sounds, Aguilera's voice is perfect for this song, nearly tailor-made for her and her now-whole and rich tone. Each word and note comes out clean and heavy, thus making you feel her pain and struggle, which is furthermore expressed in her strains in her high notes. In the song you don't hear much layers in the vocals, just a few background vocals here and there, but there is none to be found post-bridge, unlike most pop songs, thus focusing on the seriousness and singularity of the ballad. The composition of the instrumental is phenomenal, with its chorus cadences, and an after chorus return to the simple beat, a classic Sia work of art. By doing this, it makes you pay more attention to the words better with the simple violin-accompanied piano, and come the chorus again, there is a surge of complexity which continues to the bridge and the final chorus which finishes off beautifully with an note signifying an enlightenment.

The music video come from the movie itself, which is a beautiful production, a green draping dress and a white flower in bunched up hair, with a light behind and just you on stage - one of Xtina's finest looks.

End note: Let it go. Let it go. Beautiful. Give in. Let it go.