Showing posts with label enggelis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label enggelis. Show all posts

Hello, Lady Forever

15 September 2011

This is my first attempt at a Shakespearean Sonnet, inspired (or at least patterned in a way) from Shakespeare's Sonnet 104. I know the iambs aren't perfect, please forgive it this time, it's a first draft :)), I'll get the hang of writing with the stress of syllables in consideration as I write this stuff (I hope). This was originally intended as a class assignment now it also is signal of my return to dipping my foot in the cold sea that is poetry.


Hello, Lady Forever

 

You shall not age like leaves do fall at fall.

My eye sees you eternal and divine.

For in the land time did and will take toll,

But to your grace all beauty did align.

Three seasons that does not seem that much cold,

Nor did summers that passed burn like before.

Gone is the beauty of nature I’m told.

Those lovely pearls have fallen on your shores.

The land is cloaked by your eternal face.

The shadows will and shall live above life.

Are you the gift god made just to disgrace.

The very earth he cut with his own knife?

For pretty things fade ugly at your shade.

You killed all other beauty God has made.

Writer's Lurgy

30 January 2011

My name is Ernesto Dakila, I'm a writer. Well, sort of.


It's been a while, these past few weeks have taken a lot from me and I haven't gotten around writing something worth reading for the small population who think time is worth wasting reading whatever I come up with. It feels like I've been drained of things to say. Things have been happening and they've been keeping me busy, you'd think I'd be writing about it first chance I get. I didn't, I've been letting opportunities, ideas, and inspiration slip past me too often. Aside from the occasional want to rant about unrequited love and school and friends I have nothing, I avoid those rants for fear I come off as a fourteen year old emo kid.

Unlike fourteen year-olds though, we adults (legally) have alcohol and cigarettes. With the help of both I have been scribbling some pretty interesting stuff, I hope to share them with you some time. But in the meantime this is what you get, a writer going on and on about not writing enough.

I started writing this entry some time around half past eight, it is now half past midnight, I've been distracted by social networking, e-mails, movies, news, and lots of other things the internet has to offer. I'm not very good at the whole "close yourself from the world and get to writing" thing. Even if I do it long hand, I pause, I look around, I eat, I smoke, I talk to people. then I write again.

I'm a writer in bursts. Which perhaps, isn't helping me become a very good one.

My use of the language isn't elevated, my diction isn't noble, I must learn these things. I have to be better at this. But first, I must write.

(Oh look at how I ended this blog entry, just making a quick escape, not even giving proper support for my end statement, I'm really really tired.)

The God Question

30 October 2010

Being raised in the environment I have been, it's hard not to believe in a supreme being that is out there,  a god if you will. But I must say that I cannot believe he actually gives a crap about what we do with our lives.

I can't live my life according to the teachings of some group of elders interpreting some book that was written by people who lived in places and times that are that different to mine. If I'm gonna live a life I must live according to multiple books, all books if possible. Not according to some code of rights and wrong but to the just and fair I learn a long the way.

My life is my bible, the world is my prophet, and I am my own messiah.

The Sparrow

20 October 2010

The Sparrow 

by Ernest Angeles



A gallant day,

Of come what may,

There came the man and his sparrow,

In desert heat,

On blistered feet,

He speaks of love found, lost and followed.

 

Heart was weary--

Did not see me--

 Only by eyes of his sparrow,

            With eyes and beak,

            Not find but seek,

The love he swore to follow.

 

            On the east path,

            Blocking it sat,

A man with eyes of a sparrow,

            “Man,” said he,

            “Could you he be—

The man I am set to follow?”


            “Journey not yours

            of feet and oars,

But through the eyes of your sparrow,

            With it, flutter,”

            Man did utter,

To the path that you seek not follow.”

Don't Eat That

23 August 2010

(This is the first draft of an essay I wrote for my Food Writing Class, my interest in non-genre writing has produced this, a Food Memoir on my experiences with non-food.)


Don’t Eat That

The essential feature of Pica is the eating of one or more nonnutritive substances on a persistent basis for a period. of at least 1 month. The typical substances ingested tend to vary with age. Infants and younger children typically eat paint, pIaster, string, hair, or cloth. Older children may eat animal droppings, sand, insects, leaves, or pebbles. Adolescents and adults may consume clay or soil. There is no aversion to food. (American Psychiatric Association 103)

 My name is Ernie, I have an eating disorder.

You’d be surprised at the things they have support groups of, even this thing I do, others like me all over the world are sharing their experiences on eating the non-nutritive. I’d join these support groups, but that would mean I WANT to get rid of my Pica, or that I see it as a problem. I don’t believe eating paper, wood, tiny rocks, plastic, dirt (not soil, that’s disgusting), hair, pus, that sticky stuff that gets left behind when you peel off sticky tape, rubber, and I’m getting a bit carried away, is all that bad. I do recognize that it’s not exactly health food, but if you ignore the fact that these things aren’t really food, these are actually Vegan!

It started as a kid, as it usually does, when I would press my finger between those cracks in the walls and floor of our old home and nibble on the tiny concrete crumbs that stick to my fingertips, crunchy. I’d gnaw on the feet and hands of my sister’s Barbies, leaving them looking like victims of a zombie attack. I actually believed it was cool to be eating paper, little did I know that my so ‘friends’ back in grade school we’re charging people to see me eat an entire sheet of paper. It took me sometime to realize that it was socially unacceptable to eat these things, not that I cared.

I have been queried lots of times about what paper (the most common of my non-nutritive snacks) tastes like, and my answer has always been ‘it depends’. See, paper is like any other food, it varies. Table napkins have no taste, but some types do have that powdery feel on your tongue and as if you can smell baby powder from inside your mouth. Typical white paper has no taste too, but they stick to the top of your mouth and roll into balls real quick, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing because they get chewy. This happens to most paper but much more often to white paper for some reason. Mimeograph paper is tougher to chew but has a peculiar bitter taste, newsprint is bittersweet, and if I consciously avoid eating yellow paper because it tastes like ink. The best paper, and I’m not just saying this to gross you out, is a bus ticket, those punched bus tickets, that you have kept in you jeans pocket for at least a day, a nice mix of salt and bitterness. The worst is ATM receipts, has some sort of plastic film that makes it gummy and too bitter it actually feels like poison.

I’ve never been properly diagnosed, the closest thing to an actual diagnosis was when I confessed to my Professor in Abnormal Psychology that I think I have Pica, and that I consciously partake in non-nutritive snacking (she didn’t act shocked then but I found out that she started telling my story to her other classes). But in my totally biased views of the DSM-IV-TR criterion (105) I fit four of the four conditions for Pica. Pica is commonly diagnosed to children, there are very few adult, or even adolescent, cases of it. I’m one of them. It’s hard to say how you get Pica, it is mostly related to Mental retardation but I wouldn’t believe myself retarded. I mean, how would’ve I gotten to this premiere university? There are no specific biological patterns among us who have it, but in some instances zinc deficiency is observed, not that I know what that would mean.

I don’t know about other people with my condition but aside from paper, I’m not meticulous how these things taste. The closest thing to paying attention when I eat them is the particular sensations in the mouth I get. The brittle crunch of tiny rocks, the satisfaction of flattening bits of plastic pen caps with my teeth, the feel of balling up thread with your tongue, and sometimes it even goes less that the sensations, just the wanting, like I’ve been eyeing this line of ants on the wall by my desk, crushing them against the wall then eating those that get stuck on my finger.

Other things normal people wouldn’t think of eating; plastic bags, when you chew on a plastic grocery bag (or even those types you get from the market) long enough you get a white string like jumble of plastic, it doesn’t matter what color it was in the first place, it turns white. Nails, I also bite my nails, even my nail clippings I pick off and eat, snapping satisfyingly as I clench on them with my molars, the nails clippings from the smallest toe is always softer than any other nail, for some reason they don’t snap too, they fold. Those price label stickers commonly found on notebooks and other stuff you buy at stationary stores, double the satisfaction of peeling the damn things of in one piece and folding them so the sticky part stays in and doesn’t touch the inside of my mouth.

I’ve gotten all sorts or reactions too, from the expected disgust to amazement to mockery (the ‘yeah right, of course you do’), admittedly I sometimes do it to see the reactions I cause. Like a Filipino would describe balut to a foreigner to see him grossed out and then insist “No, no, it’s good food! Helps with the arthritis!” half laughing.

I do get concerned about how this affects my health, I’ve done research (watched TV shows and searched the internet) about bezoars, and how they form inside your stomach because of stuff you couldn’t digest. I read about lead poisoning, and wood splinters getting stuck in my throat, but the threat is as big as the threat of fish bones getting stuck in my throat so nothing to worry about, I’m fine. Come to think of it, how different am I from people who eat copious amounts of cholesterol laden food or rare meat or carcinogenic barbecue? How different is wood, rubber and plastic from the hamburgers you get from McDonald’s, the processed foods they sell on the streets and the junk they sell at Pre-school cafeterias?

Sure, I worship bacon like any other guy, I enjoy a good burger and French fries combo, I don’t know what the deal is with blue cheese, it just so happens I have other stuff on my palette too. Who gets to declare what is food anyway?

 

Works Cited:

American Psychiatric Association. Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. Fourth ed. Text Revision. Washington DC: American Psychiatric Association, 2000. Print

You Were Crying

07 August 2010

I had a dream sometime back, I don't remember much of it now.


Just the bits, Just some pieces.

It was a vacation outing of sorts in a place that looked very much like the one they went to at that teen movie, TRIP, I think it's called. It was the gang, the usual bunch, there we're many of us.

You were crying, sitting in some deck of sorts, with wooden planks for a floor. You were scared, I think, or maybe your mom called and told you bad news, I can't remember.

I promised you I'll be there, I said I always have been, I asked you to let me hold you forever.

You and me became us, we were happy, you smiled at me over your shoulder as you led me to the pier to watch the sunset. I tied balloons to cat tails so you can pop them with your blow gun as the cats chased mechanical rats. I arranged your closet for you, you fixed my apartment door.

I was holding you in my arms as we sit at the Sunken Garden in my dreams when I awoke, My laptop left open in front of me.

I had a dream sometime back, and some more before that.
I had a dream some time back, I still do.

Sa wakas, Ang Kalahati ng Dahilan kung bakit ako Kumuha ng Hapon10 nuong first year

23 April 2010

Sa mga hindi nakakaalam, dalawa ang dahilan ko kung bakit ako kumuha ng Hapon 10 nuong unang taon ko sa Kolehiyo.
Una ay ang malaman ang ibic sabihin nuong CC> (basta mukhang ganyang yung characters)
sa ending ng Mask Rider Black.
Ikalawa ay ang malaman ang ibig sabihin ng "buyase" sa opening theme ng Daimos.
Ang nasagot lang sa mga tanong ko e yung una. Kasamaang palad hindi alam ng prof ko yung "buyase"
Yuon naman pala ay "moyase" ang tamang lyrics, hayup naman kasi yung pronounciation nuon.
May internet nga pala. Nahanap ko na ang complete translation ng Opening theme ng Daimos!

TATE! TOUSHOU DAIMOSU
(Arise! The King of Combat Daimos!)

Burn Burn Burn red-hot
Fan the flames of your raging heart
Beat them Beat them
Till the limits of your strength
Show them your karate

Shining gold
A gleaming giant drenched in the sun
The eyes gaze at the future
Praying for peace at last

They're calling
They're calling
Daimos Daimos Battle king Daimos
Everyone is calling you

Get near Get near Get right near them
There isn't time to dally
Shake Shake Shake the earth
Show them your strength

A fiery-colored sun
A sun-tinged steel giant
The knife hand shines
Brave the coming storms

They're calling
They're calling
Daimos Daimos Battle king Daimos
Everyone on earth's calling you

Do not weep Do not weep
You're a man Do not weep
In battle there's no need for tears
Defend Defend Till the limits of life defend
Show them your courage

A ??-colored sunset
A sun-tinged giant at rest
Possessing fighting spirit in the heart
Aiming for peace at last

They're calling
They're calling
Daimos Daimos Battle king Daimos
All friends of earth's calling you

Yay internets!
http://virtual-rotation.com/chirlind/others/sentai/daimos.html#tate

Tournament of Getting Awa (Google Translate is Coño)

25 March 2010

(May Blog entry ako na "Paligsahan ng Paghingi ng Awa" pinrompt akong i-translate ito mula Filipino sa Ingles. Sinubukan ko lang, komedya ampota :)))

Consecutive announcement of the politician want to be president, interfering little time each day nilalaan to watching TV. Villar to pinagpipilitan our hard lang talaga nung bata pa s'ya s'ya even s'ya private school attended and the three storey house they Tondo. The Noynoy that pinangangalandakan the 'achievements' of the parents while n'ya' di naman n'ya ignores the issue of Hacienda Luisita and Mendiola Massacre. Si Erap to pinangangalandakang denied him the Arroyo administration half term n'ya while Arroyo is also why independent s'ya today. Why do these at the top of the survey e nothing but magpaawa?

You see it was Villar, "I just returned me to being entrepreneurs." Why Manny, leave you? E you are the number one example of the capitalist burukrat. Run the country like a company. Not ordinary kurakot, ikaw yung tipong power not used for pagkamkam wealth but for konting maniobra that makakalamang you. Like that of the C5 road extension, you wander the streets of little benefit for Mr. naman. Villar.
Yun also means your campaigning, you yourself know you damaged sure-win that would have attended kandidaturya nung scene it was Noynoy. So now desperate can spend millions to raise itself in the ratings, to narrate the loss of your money. Ang galing, napakapoetic campaign, full of irony.
New School TRAPO be Manny, but still TRAPO the modern style, not too obvious. Pero ganun pa rin, concentrated gloss elegance, concentrated lie, concentrated for itself the doing.

We may forget about kay Erap? Convicted, CONVICTED, the graft & corruption. Stole that, knowing that, that that should makukulong if nerve lang yung judge. Mabubulok nga sana in Tanay in only if granted by Gloria (Morocco rin kasi we can die man President). Eto pa, just to prove that the insult dog called dog-eat-dog politics of the Philippines, RUN UNDER PRESIDENT! Inaway pa yung specific person nagpalaya him "Dog does not bite the hand that feeds it" apparently, some kind of animal it hinayupak to.
Have we forgotten that is why we cast him out of Malacañang this hayup it in the first place? I said when a rumor just to run it si Erap, if allowed s'ya Comelec, not that we really respect our own Constitution.
Ngayon naman, when it won si Erap, we no longer respect the Judicial system we decide him guilty, yet we do not pity our own country, our own family, the dish hinahain our table.

Who most Trapo mangandidato all candidates now? Si Noynoy! Hooray!
Who leads the survey? Si Noynoy! Hooray!
Kelangan that we stopped voting in the Icon. Erap won because the poverty Icon s'ya, Cory won was because s'ya Icon of the deceased was Trapong Ninoy Aquino (who were not be heroes if I just died in, which bwiset Trapo yan), Icon s'ya all the suffering of Martial Law and the Marcos regime. Why was leading Noynoy? S'ya you may experience? Nothing. Have proven that you s'ya? Nothing. S'yang you may do so? Ewan ko, malay natin? Magbabakasakali we nanaman an ICON that so lang naman n'ya run the party for e n'ya mother died and they masosolid n'ya Sympathy Vote (trying to usurp Villar with 'I died utol' line) . PUTANG INA! All that ad is a bald e pinangangalandakan n'ya how well the n'yang parents died and how n'ya want continue the initiated them. While stoned when you s'ya the issue about the administration of the mother n'ya or killed on land they answer e n'ya "Do ye pong toss to Senator Aquino achievements or achievements of n'ya relatives, others po si Senator Aquino, the po s'ya we judge. " Putang mother hypocritical double standard yan. E wala ka ngang maihusga to Noynoy, I s'yang meron naman e! Puro dada just about the stoppage of corruption while kaapu s'ya descendant of a master land pinagkakait to farmers in the land law that na should be them. Corruption? Ayun the corruption, the law does not apply to the Aquino family because they are more powerful.
Yes, I hate to hate to Aquino, for pinuputa n'ya us n'yang the deceased parents as reasons s'ya should vote. Sabagay, wala naman proud s'yang major bills passed as running mate n'ya. S'yang experience without the opponent n'ya. None s'yang anything, the meron lang si Noynoy is n'ya family, the rotten n'yang surname.

Yes that, somewhat irritated that the OA ko kay Noynoy, but for the mercy cheating, not cheating it three voting to ha? Please?

Meeting in Between

01 March 2010

Someday, and that day may never come, I will see you in the street and you will smile at me. You will walk towards where I am and I will walk towards where you are, we will say our hellos and never need to say our goodbyes. Maybe someday we will meet in between. You will love me liked I always have and I will no longer treat you as something more than just a dream.


Someday, maybe someday, we will fail to see the world as it spins its spells around us. Together in a future dream our dreams will be one.

One day, or so I pray, I can live on the air you breathe. You can live life you always wanted, the difference is that you live it with me. And I will forget whatever hopes I had because to be with you is living dream.

Maybe one day, maybe someday, maybe never. Forever can be made real thing, eternity will be an item, infinity can be personified into one you and all of me.

The Continuity of Self-Hate in the War Against the Truth That is Time

08 February 2010

I have prided myself in being above mediocrity, on being more than the average man. I am ashamed to admit that all this time I have been wrong. But I will admit, I have been wrong, I am no more than a man. Whatever the definition of which it entails, that I am, a man and no more.

I would like to believe in a One True Way, a destiny, a predetermined future that speaks of me being born to be more than what I have always been. I would like to believe in fate. I would like to believe that there is something out there in the path time takes to the end of it all that says one day I will be great. But I know there is none, I know now that there is no one true way. That I am a man molded by the choices I make and the events this brings.

For as long as I could remember I have been obsessed with the past and the future. Wishing there was a way I could travel back with the wisdom I have now and change things, make things better than they are. Hoping that eventually something will happen that will lead me to a destiny I have so long wished for me to have.  I am constantly at war with the truth that is time, and that there is nothing I can do about anything in it other than what is in the present.

I have come to understand that my wishing and hoping have all been wrong. Understand, but not accept.

I know this, I accept that the fact that I cannot accept that fact is a weakness. I am afraid of the future, and as the mistakes I have made pile up I cannot stop myself from dwelling In the seas my incapability to take charge of my own life has created. I am drowning, and as I consume more and more of these errors I realize all of this is just too much for me, and I will die in my sins to myself and to the world around me. To the people I love, and how I have begun to hate people I love simply for being right about me, for stabbing me with knives and spears in my face. There is simply too much of it for me to start over.

--------

But then, I do not have to start over.

I have taken the step to realize I am drowning, I have awoken to see my world flooded by these blunders of my own making. I have accepted that there is no way for me to parch these waters, and what I have to do is to learn how to swim.

-------

I am humbled by my own words, I recall once saying to a friend; “We can never start over, we can only continue from where we are.” How arrogant of me to have said words I have been blind to follow. Time and time again reminds me of how my past has molded me to be what I am. Weak, irresponsible, arrogant, fool-hardy, timid, indolent, these are adjectives that have chosen me as host. I have lived a life to deserve the flaws of my nature, and not the splendor that I could be.

There, I said it, there is nothing I must be. There is nothing I should be. There is nothing I need to be. There are only the things I can be. Somewhere between my clouded reverie and lurid lucidity I know, There are things to be done, and everything now lies as to if I will.

I can never really know unless I try I guess.

Senses

03 February 2010

I wish we can turn off our senses.


I wish I can choose to not hear, not feel. I wish I could be there but not know it.

I always wish I cannot feel, the world I move around in is a jungle of stimulus that mauls each of my senses like mobs. I am left beaten from the moment I can no longer pretend to be asleep to the instance life grants my wish that I be numbed and fall asleep. The pain I bear is so that I forget to wish for my dreams to not hold the pain in them. If at all, remove all my senses, may no more come to this consciousness of mine, if I shall still live let me then be a shadow awaiting death. If you cannot take from me all that binds me to this reality then by the very least take my hearing. For I can always close my eyes, but my ears are cursed to always hear the words spoken to me by she who means to hurt, amen.

My name is Jun Palma, and I am not alone in the confines of my room. I share the space with fear, hate, anger, sadness. I share my room with the recurring words from a creature known to my soul only as the bringer of pain. I am not alone and I have never felt so weak.

Hate, if I have to left with only one thing, let it be the hate. My Hate.

The Complexity of Memory Annoys Me

28 January 2010

I wish people would stop telling people what things remind them of, I know I must've done it a few times as well but I'm gonna stop it right now. People should stop telling people what things remind them of. People get reminded of  a lot of things during conversations, people get reminded a lot of things when we look at things, people get reminded by a lot of things all the time! It's annoying when they start going "oh that reminds me..." "it reminds me of..." nobody cares what it reminds you of, did you get your conversation skills from a shoe?


It especially annoys me when it involves some sort of artwork done. A webcomic I read once had a lot of comments saying "This feels so Calvin and Hobbes" the artist commented back sounding offended, she had no intention of it looking Calvin and Hobbes-ish, she is barely influenced by Calvin and Hobbes and the readers thought it was very Calvin and Hobbes because it had a FRIGGIN' SNOWMAN! What the fuck was that about? What good did your comment do? Who the hell needed that information? Saying something like that is saying something because you don't have nothing to say, if you have nothing to say then DON'T say anything. Especially about what shit reminds you of.

To those who follow me on plurk, you would be familiar with how I was annoyed by a comment saying that my poster design reminded somebody of the Loverage poster for the UP fair sometime back. Now that was damn annoying, even if you meant it as a compliment, how the fuck did that comparison help anyone? And the designs don't even look anything alike. If it reminds you of something it offends our attempt at being original. It offends me because I go to great lengths to make it look good and the best thing people would say is "hey, that reminds me of ________" fuck that.

Okay, there goes Ernie again complaining about shit that don't go his way. Just think about it okay? That shit ain't cool.

Reminiscing ACLEs

27 January 2010

Of my UP life, 8 ACLEs have come and 7 of them have passed, the latest one is this year and I'm happy to somehow be a part of UP PsycA's ACLEs this year even if I'm not on campus (though being part merely means I came up with the title and made some posters) I like ACLEs in general and this is just to remember those that passed.


During my First year I never attended ACLEs, to me they we're just an excuse to go home early. I was never required to attend any nor did I go to any extent of actually wanting to attend any, ACLE topics from organizations bore me, they we're repetitive and unimaginative. Photography crash courses and stuff about comic books are the only things that caught my eye on the bulletin boards, so no, I did not like ACLEs back then.

During my second year I was already part of UP PsycA when the ACLEs started, UP PsycA's ACLE during the first sem was a team up with UP Kustura, an org of people from Marikina. We didn't attend that, we went up to Vinson's to attend an ACLE with Papa Dom about Reggae music and the Rastafarian ideology. In hindsight, I did ask a lot of stupid questions that day, but I did get a picture with Papa Dom and got his autograph.

The Second sem Ate Meme was bugging us about what to present, I had recently watched the film Umaaraw, Umuulan starring Ryan Agoncillo and suggested we show that to people. It was typically uneventful, we had a few people in and it was merely an excuse for me and Jammin to get to smoke in the fourth floor classroom we reserved for the event. Ate Meme gave a little talk about Schizophrenia as well, which she did real well as it apparently was her report for her Psych 155 class.

When we took over PsycA during our third year we wanted our ACLE to be a something people would actually WANT to go to, not have to. I can't remember who actually came up with the idea (I'd like to say it was me, but I'm not sure) that we make a film about Zorro, the costumed mascot of the Academic Oval. It was originally a film, that boiled down to a documentary (or a lousy excuse for one) about Dennis Magtajas, the guy behind the mask. So that's what we called it, "Sa Likod ng Maskara: Ang Stigma ni Zorro". I starred in that docu and did voice acting for that as well, I interviewed Zorro and his father and we built a pretty good picture of who the guy is. This is when we started the lucky streak of speakers, Prof. Rosel from the Psych Department who teaches Abnormal Psychology was a great speaker and did more than we expected from her, which is saying something. We expected a lot from her, she delivered and we we're in awe. The room was filled to doors, and it was a booming success. We knew by then that when we're gonna do events, we can't just pull something off, we have to raise the bar.

The next one we did was something about food, apparently Ging wanted something that had something to do with food. The original professor we wanted to invite was to be invited if only to discuss the "tingi mentality" of Filipinos when it comes to food, he declined the invitation and suggested we ask Prof. Cosare instead. If anybody was an expert at Food Psychology it was him, he knew it, he may be the only one who knew it in the country or even the region. He was more prepared than we we're! We pestered a few people to attend it and we got to fill the room with people, who happily taste tested everything the professor brought (he had wine, and we we're warm all day because of it) and the free isaw we gave away at the end. Again, we raised the bar, apparently Prof. Cosare became popular because of this and was invited to two other ACLEs, one for last sem and another one for this semester.

The Last one was something that you would've expected from a Psychological organization. It was about reading minds "We Can Read Your Mind" as we called it, and we invited a former private investigator (a professor of Rose and a classmate of Mhe-Ann) from BA. Sorry to say I forgot his name, he is a young professor who knew what he was talking about. We also invited Prof. Ed Decenteceo from the Psych Department as a reactor to the event, he was wonderful and provided an opening for this year's ACLE about paranormal psychology. Sir Ed talked about how behavior and body language affects us, how he applies it in acting, in his counseling, in teaching, and a crash course on "Heart Chakras" and the spiritual things like that. I put great publicity as number one reason we filled the Big AS room (96 people! we had to borrow chairs from adjoining rooms and STILL have people standing) Tinek did a wonderful job with the pubmats and I think the success of our previous ACLEs proved fruitful as I saw familiar faces from our previous ACLE joining us that day. As usual, hosting duties fell on me despite me being out of school that semester, during the technical difficulties part in the start I would like to believe the little research I did on Evolutionary Psychology and how our evolution has affected our body language did well in burning up time for the audience. We also showed an episode from the TV series "Lie to Me" about micro expressions. All in all it was the best we ever pulled off and we have been raising the bar of ACLEs ever since we took over. ACLEs now are getting more and more interesting and I hope I'm not being rude by assuming it was because UP PsycA has sworn never to do anything mediocre when it comes to ACLE. We wanted to do something nobody else has ever done, and people who we don't even know go to our ACLEs to actually learn, and that is the idea behind ACLEs anyway. We don't bring in big and popular names or pop topics, we choose topics we like and we know people should learn about.

I hope I'm not jinxing UP PsycA's good ACLE record with this but the latest one, about Parapsychology is proving to be something to be proud of as well, we cut it close this time but I guess we're pulling it off real good as usual. So reader, you heard it from me, UP PsycA raised the bar when it comes to ACLE, and we're not done yet.

Have You Ever Wondered What Could be Beyond Our Senses?

UP PsycA 
presents
Beyond Senses : Understanding Parapsychology

An Alternative Learning Classroom Experience (ACLE)

With a demonstration with Fr. Jaime Bulatao, Ph.D. (an Expert in Parapsychology)

Reactors:
Prof. Aurora Mendoza, Ph.D.
Prof. Edwin Decenteceo, Ph.D.

See you at PHAn Lobby
1-4 PM January 28, 2010

Darkness

01 December 2009

The dark does not exist. It is no object. It is the absence. Absence of the truth that is light.


Endless, and the fall has begun
Flesh flies off my skin as I bleed into non-death
Your voice echoes in my skull
Painful.

Stop it, stop this damnation
My turn for a revelation
Destined for the generation
Bleed the darkness out your souls

Get out, you're the stain in blood
Get out, you're the mud in my veins
Get out, you're the evil
Eat my heart outside my conscious self.

Slowly the mirror has become my fear
Darkness creeps it's arms around me
Eternal embrace of its son
I don't want to see those arms around me

Save me from this plight
Give me some light
Can no longer fight
I am never by myself, but I'm alone tonight.

I Remember my Dreams (201st blog entry)

19 November 2009

(yep, you read it right, this is my 201st blog entry, wow, that's like, 200 entries after the first one. Might be, not really sure, I'm pretty lousy at math. Don't bother counting every entry here, some are exclusive to different people, I think I only have three people who can see every entry there is. Instead of doing what I did on the 101st blog entry where I highlight certain really cool entries I had in the past I'd rather talk about something that has bothered me by a bit, something that makes me realize what kind of person I am becoming)


I am young, I know that, I admit, no matter how much I want to grow up really fast I am still young. 20 years of life doesn't really constitute that I have enough experience to be considered old, or at the very least, mature. When I was a younger boy I had dreams, I wanted to be a fireman, an Indian chief, a Soldier, the President. I wanted to be a lot of things, I was younger and much more ignorant than I am now. Gaining more years of life I have dreamed more practical things, to be a journalist, to be a teacher, to be a writer. I actually tried a little for those roads, I have given up sometime between trying and beginning. I was young, I was ignorant, I had no idea what the world was like, I am grateful that I now know what kind of life there is for someone who quits and does not pursue such dreams, I am grateful to lose that ignorance. But I regret losing my dreams.

Imagine this universe, a box of endless possibilities everyday, imagine all of the things I could have done and could have been had I only acted upon these possibilities. But here I am reading web comics and posting replies to social networking sites, downloading games and funny pictures and pornography. Sending out resumes via the internet because the 500 pesos I have won't be enough for me to go to companies myself. I still haven't finished my clearance at the previous company I worked for because of issues that are caused by incompetence and laziness and irresponsibility. Everyday of my life seems like a repetition of yesterday where the only difference is the dates on my calendars and the level of my characters in the video games I play. Where have my dreams gone? What happened to my hopes and goals that have been reduced to getting a job and getting out of the house once in a while. What has become of me?

I know I have my dreams somewhere, I can feel the disappointment at myself for living a life of stagnation and idiocy. I feel the anger at myself for forgetting about what I should be doing to achieve my dreams. I am afraid of the tomorrow whether it would end this monotony for the better or for the worse for I do not know how to live a life other than this sensation of falling. Yes, I am no longer on the edge, I am falling from the cliff I myself jumped from, it is such a lengthy fall that the fear, the sadness, the curiosity and the boredom have been taking turns at me for several repetitions now. I have always thought I was grasping at the straws of security, I haven't realized the straws have ripped off long ago.

I have forgotten, forgive me, whoever may, or whoever would have the urge to, forgive me. I threw myself into the furnace and melted into a molten soul, fitted into a mold. I have become scared of my dreams as well ass used them as an excuse for incompetence and irresponsibility. I now fear judgement for I know it will be just, and I will be punished, if the burden I bear now is not punishment enough for my lies, misdeeds, evil thoughts and incompetence.

As I write this the rain has started to fall, and it reminds me of tears I will not allow myself to shed for myself. I may not be excused from this anguish, I refuse to provide myself relief from the pain. This is my pain and I deserve it, I shall make this the greatest day of my life, the acknowledgement of failure and pain and refusing to give the blame to anyone except myself.

Thank you for sharing this moment with me. My names are Ernest Jean Angeles, estongdakila, Jun Palma, and Cilva. I have spoken these words so you may slap me in the face or throw me a pail of cold water. I remember my dreams now, and I pray you never forget yours. Screw the World and it's walls, I have dreams, I shall live them.

I'm no Genius, I'm no Activist, but I'm Not Enough of an Idiot to Not Say Something.

18 November 2009

Do you know these names? Noynoy Aquino? Of course, how abot Kris Aquino? Hell yeah, the Cojuangcos? It seems stupid to ask. How about these names: Jun David? No? Boy Verzola? Never heard? Neng Manalo? Random people you say? Nah, These are just the names of some of the farmers killed at the Hacienda Luisita Massacre. Yeah, doesn't really matter, does it? They don't affect your lives, they do their farming, they fertilize land with blood, the Cojuangcos live their nice and easy lives and you don't give a shit.


It's funny how easy we judge the villains in soap operas when we can't see the bad guys in real life.

Sure, Noynoy may not have ordered that massacre. Yeah, I AM judging him by his genetics. I want to know something from this Presidential Candidate, WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO ABOUT IT? Prove to me that you won't let your family influence you, prove to me what you can do for the farmers, point the finger on who actually is responsible for those deaths and that injustice and actually do something about it. All you did so far was blab on the newspapers that you want the Hacienda Luisita Lands to be given to them farmers, do something about it motherfucker.

Right now, it aint your fault. You let this slide and it will be.

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A few months ago, actually maybe even less than that, Legarda was accusing Villar of corruption on the C-5 road project. I definitely think that Legarda was just doing that to catch attention because her "climate change lady" image just isn't selling (if you don't remember, I don't blame you, she also used to be "poverty lady" and "social injustice lady"). That didn't work out quite well for her as well since she ended up sounding like Jamby Madrigal, and who the fuck would want to sound like a cam-whore? So scrap that, she goes into the "I-don't-want-to-talk-about-politics-I-want-to-focus-on-climate-change" mode, (she actually said those words) WHILE everybody is talking about Presidential aspirations, oh c'mon. That sounds so Presidentiable, I hate you Legarda.

And now, she's running with Villar as his Vice-Presidential candidate. Not that it was surprising, it was funny and annoying as hell. Now who  the fuck is telling the truth the whole time? We all know that Manny Villar went corrupt in that project, I just want somebody punished for corruption once in a while in this country. C'mon! The question I want to ask and I want to hear a goddamn straight answer from both of them WHO THE FUCK WAS TELLING THE TRUTH? Because if Villar was teling the truth that he didn't go corrupt on that project then Legarda was making baseless accusations and she's a liar who just wants some attention at the expense of a fellow senator.if LEGARDA was telling the truth then what the hell is Villar doing running for president? You want to give him MORE power?

I like Villar for pete's sake, he was the original rags to bureaucrat capitalist story. I just don't want him running the country, I'm fucking scared.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

What the fuck can I say about Bayani Fernando that hasn't been said already? He can't even fix Marikina, you expect him to fix a country? He think trees are like street lights you can pull out and replant. God bless the Ateneans wanting to pull up a "we love the environment" image for not letting Bayani Pull out the trees at Katipunan. He's a wonderful engineer, sure, he has great ideas sometimes but he can't solve all the problems, he can solve very specific type of problems that cover his field of knowledge. He isn't stupid, he's fucking ignorant of all the other things. He thinks the reason his methodologies aren't working is because we don't know how to follow the rules, Motherfucking idiot, does he even drive around Metro Manila? I want him to drive around Metro Manila every god condemned day of his life to see what kind of messed up things he comes up with and how it messes up everything else.

By the way, Pink and Blue is just a fucking ugly color for the streets, mix it with all that black from soot and its disgustingly ugly. Paint it silver or something, paint it Yellow, Paint it beige, blend to the street colors, just don't paint it fucking ugly blue and pink you idiot.

-------------------------------------------------

I don't blame many people for liking Chiz Escudero, the guy is charismatic, he talks the talk, he talks quite a lot actually, and he actually thinks he's the Obama here, he's a fucking corrupt idiot.

I grew up surrounded by Sorsogon Politics, I know what Chiz has been doing all the time he was Representative of Sorsogon, effin' nothin'. He was too busy being a noisy young congressman from Bicol during the impeachment trials. He was busy being the so-called good-looking senator. He was too busy sounding smart and pretending to be smart to actually be smart. He's an overrated, overexposed motherfucker who talks too much.

YOUNG PEOPLE! Knock-knock! Chiz Escudero cannot save your country, he is another Feudal raised, corrupt son of a bitch. It just disgusts me that they even let him speak, everything he says is so written down on a piece of paper and memorized before he actually says it on cam. Geez, how I wish I could talk about everything he's been doing and the stuff he's been saying, and all that stuff but I promised my family I wouldn't. So I'll just say shut up Chiz.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

When I told my mom that Erap is running for President I did it via Yahoo! Messenger since she's out of the country, all she could reply was "OMG."

Geez, constitutional loopholes! We are going to allow somebody who is actually guilty of corruption to run for President? A womanizer, prolific gambler, corrupt motherfucker? Are we that stupid? Do we have absolutely no respect for our constitution or ourselves? THE GUY WAS CONVICTED GUILTY. G-U-I-L-T-Y. He is out on PARDON. PRESIDENTIAL PARDON. The guy's a convict for taking money of the taxes WE paid that could've been used to feed our families. The guy's convicted for protecting illegal gambling activity in the country, what the fuck else do you want to hear?

PLEASE! Joseph Estrada can't even respect  a little deal he signed for his pardon. "NO RUNNING FOR PUBLIC OFFICE" or even "THOU SHALL NOT COMMIT ADULTERY", how the hell do you expect him to follow law like "Don't steal from your country ass-hole"?

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This is going to be one really retarded elections. With all this stupidity I would make you want to NOT vote. But fuckers that's the only thing we have to do in this Democracy. I fucking hope we choose the right one.

Miss

15 November 2009

I hate being stuck at home. I feel like a bum. I'm not a bum. I'm a freelancer. That's a job.


I miss being at school. Not going to classes, just being at school. Hanging out with my buddies and talking nothingness. I miss Christine. I miss Jammin, I miss Roxanne. I miss everyone.

I miss drinking beer with my buddies. Drinking beer should always be with buddies. I want to treat the guys out for beer. A small group would be better than a big group.

I miss being respected for what I do and what I choose. I guess too many wrong decisions forfeit that right. I hate feeling like a burden.

I hate wanting to die. Wanting to die is as pointless as fearing death.

I miss being able to smoke at the sunken garden. I miss the smell of freshly cut grass. I miss jeepneys.

I miss nights at UP, where everything is beautiful.

I miss falling in love.

I hate having to go back at the office. I hate the way my old boss looks at me like I'm worthless. I hate knowing that she's right.

I hate the questions they ask me. When are you graduating. When will you be back at school. What are you doing right now. Where do you work. What does that mean. How much do you get for it.

Tell me if I suck. I'd love it. Affirm the belief I've had for years.

I hate this. I miss you.

Colors/Firefly/Vanilla/Methapor

10 May 2009

I am a gray spot in a pastel room,

You are the colors that murder my gloom.

I am the withered leaf that dies on the grass.

You are the grass.

 

I am a brick on the edge of a cliff,

Waiting for you to give me a kick.

You are a firefly in a glass jar,

I am the stone that will break it.

 

You are the train that leaves at dawn,

I am the passenger that wakes up at noon.

I am the vanilla flavored ice cream,

You are the chocolate loving kid.

 

You are the coach, scouting for youth,

I am the bench player you never see play.

You are book of poetry, on beauty and love.

I am the metaphor.

Coffee and Cigarettes

09 April 2009

Decent coffee, I have been telling my aunt that we have to use the coffee maker, I need decent coffee, we all deserve decent coffee.

I always brew a strong brew, they say i waste the beans, but I want coffee, not colored water.

Powdered coffee, its never right, its too weak and feels lacking, too soft, too smooth, I don't know how to describe coffee, I just tell as i taste.

Tell as I taste.

Three sugars please, and no cream, no milk.

I would've had my coffee at those coffee shops, but I don't like sitting surrounded by coffe-poseurs. Drinking their candy-coated, milk-diluted, fancy-named, so-called coffee. It isn't even coffee. And besides, I won't pay that much for that little coffee, coffee has its right to be brewed and drank at a price fit for real people.

On second thought, hold the sugar too.

__________________________________

I haven't chain-smoked for weeks, my body is craving its poison.

The phleghm isn't black yet, thank whoever.

I've been having coughs this past few weeks, it might be the lack of smoking, it must be a real cough bacteria, it might be the chain-smoking.

A pack rests behind the phonebooks in a corner table in the living room. I can't leave them around while my grandma is in the country, she's staying with us.

I really need a smoke, my sweat lacks the poisonous sweet smell, my breath seems different, my dog can't recognize me by scent.

On second thought make that two smokes.

Pick you poison, pick your poison, pick your poison, pick your poison.

O hell, make it a pack, burn it in an hour.

or less.

 
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