30 January 2011
My name is Ernesto Dakila, I'm a writer. Well, sort of.
One Day I Found Myself in Diaspora
My name is Ernesto Dakila, I'm a writer. Well, sort of.
by Unknown at 8:39 AM 4 things said
Labels: anaknigod, enggelis, kamalasankontodo, kwentistainme, sorry, supot, watdapak, yosistory
1.
by Unknown at 10:27 AM 0 things said
Labels: kamalasankontodo, kwentistainme, listahan, watdapak, yosistory
It is 11:59 as I write this, the walls of my room shake as big-ass trucks pass by, dogs seem to be arguing about something, but the wind is quiet, and still I am lulled by the humming of my electric fan. After watching episode after episode of downloaded sitcoms I went down to the kitchen to make myself a pitcher of orange juice and a scooped a small bowl of peanut butter. Now I am sitting on my bed, hunched low, the only light coming from my laptop screen and I thought I should write something about love. So here I am.
There are no experts in love, the scientists can tell you about neural receptors and chemicals being secreted and bolts in your brain, and they can tell you of your beating heart, of your flushing cheeks, of your stutter as you speak, but they cannot tell you of love, not as you want to hear it. Social scientists go forth and observe your behaviors and the patterns and the similarities and differences between societies and cultures of their perception or expression of love, they give a lot of talk, but none of those are what I want to say. Even the poets and their figures of speech are not much different, they’re just fancy words, fancy phrases for something we all know, but can’t say what.
Love, love, love, we know of love, we know what it is, but we don’t have enough data about it to be able to say something about what it is that will be conclusively accepted as true. Except perhaps that it’s perplexing.
----
I want to see you. I want to hold you.
I have dreams, dreams where I wrap my arms around you and I shield you from the world. In my arms nothing can harm you, in my arms there is no reason to be scared, in my arms there is nothing but my love. I can promise you my heart, I can promise you my life, I can promise forever if only you ask.
Tell me to come to you, tell me to speak, to shout, to proclaim to the world that I love you. Let me say it, let me say what we both know.
----
It is 2:19 AM, 26 hours and 20 minutes after I begun writing this piece and I am still thinking love. I have considered asking somebody more experienced than me in this field and then was where I hit another brick wall. What exactly constitutes the ‘experiencing’ of love? Does it require a mutual acceptance of a relationship before it falls into the category of ‘true’ love? I only bring that up of course because it was the main argument of this girl I knew in high school as to why what I was feeling for her cannot be in anyway ‘love’. Is an individual’s consciousness that a set of emotions and reactions to stimuli fall into a set and culturally accepted pattern constitute as ‘experiencing’ love, hence the phrase ‘falling in love’?
For several days now I’ve been immersing myself in different possible sources of information. Among them are love poems (notably, Chingbee Cruz has wonderful love poems, though again I cannot possibly know how the category ‘love poem’ was ever formulated without a clear enough definition of love), Hugh Grant movies, romantic songs (ignoring the fact that I might come off as spambot now, I would like to commend Ang Bandang Shirley for their album ‘Theme songs’), romantic comedy sitcoms, and even the holy books of different religions. Still I’ve got nothing.
----
I watch my cigarette burn. Holding it between two fingers I bring it closer and closer to my face. I see the ember as it consumes another bit of white paper and turns it into gray ash. The orange burns brightly within the black of the burnt tobacco, and right then I wanted to kill the embers on my chest. Burn my skin with this cigarette, right where my heart beats. It shouts, my heart does, it is cold and weak. I shall bring it warmth. I shall bury this cigarette through my flesh and bone to pierce my heart.
Your picture is pinned on a corkboard on my wall. Too small for me to frame it, too valuable for me to keep it in my wallet, too beautiful is the face on it for me to be able to cease thinking of it. I cannot hide it, I cannot throw it away, your smile immortalized in celluloid has been marked into my brain, etched with the embers of a cigarette.
I watch my cigarette until it burns nearer and nearer my skin. I swore to myself never to let it go, no matter the pain of the heat, no matter what stinging burn, I shall hold it until it dies between my fingers. Only then shall I let it go.
----
Jesus Christ, it’s now 3 AM and I’m writing vaguely about unrequited love, how much more pathetic can I be?
FML.
by Unknown at 4:26 AM 3 things said
Labels: kamalasankontodo, labistori, notepaddrama, overdrama, supot, tulala, up, watdapak, yosistory
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.
YOUR MOM'S KOMIKS is a newly established group of young new Komiks writers looking for artists to collaborate with in a number of projects we have in line.
by Unknown at 6:44 AM 0 things said
Labels: anaknigod, hadbentyur, komiks, komiksnginamo, kwentistainme, up, watdapak
Did you expect perfect use of language? Impeccable grammar? Correct Spelling? Did you expect discussions on the philosophy of language? In-depth analysis of political events? Scientific research papers? It's an effin' blog, you get as good grammar as I can come up with while typing with as little thought processing as possible. The closest thing to philosophical thinking would be bullshit armchair philosophy. The closest thing to in-depth analysis would be biased ranting about hearsay, and I'm not even touching scientific research, never.
by Unknown at 10:14 AM 5 things said
Labels: anaknigod, labistori, lipad, overdrama, pangsayangoras, sorry, watdapak, yosistory
(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
by Unknown at 8:41 AM 4 things said
Labels: bloodgloriousblood, enggelis, foodwriting, kwentistainme, up, watdapak
I had a dream sometime back, I don't remember much of it now.
Nalulungkot ako, wow, astig, mind-boggling news.
by Unknown at 8:11 AM 19 things said
Labels: anaknigod, kalokohanlang, kamalasankontodo, labistori, pangsayangoras, watdapak
Maagang pinauwi sina Jun mula sa paaralan, tanghali pa lang ay sakay na s’ya ng serbis ng paaralan papunta sa kani-kanilang bahay. Walang takdang-araling binigay ang kanyang mga guro at tulad ng karaniwang bata sa greyd por ay pinaplano na n’ya ang mga paglalarong gagawin n’ya pagkauwi at ang mga palabas sa telebisyon na mapapanood n’ya dahil pinauwi sila ng maaga. Isang bulalakaw kasi ang bumulusok mula sa kalawakan papasok ng bintana ng kanilang silid at pumaslang sa kanilang guro sa Filipino, magiging abala ang mga dyanitor at karpintero ng paaralan sa paglilinis ng nabasag na bintana, pagtatanggal ng mga bakas ng pagkasunog at dugo sa mga ding-ding at kisame at pagpapalit ng salamin ng silid. Magiging abala din ang mga guro sa pagdadala ng katawan ni Gng. Pagtalunan sa morge at pagpapaliwanag sa pamilya nito sa kalunos-lunos na aksidenteng naganap. Kaya’t maaga silang pinauwi.
Binaba siya sa harap ng kanilang bahay ng mabait at palangiting drayber ng serbis ng paaralan, pag-pasok n’ya sa bahay ay inabutan n’yang nakatayo sa kisame ang kanyang ina at abalang binabakyum ang paligid ng bumbilya ng kanilang sala. Hindi agad napansin ng kanyang ina na nasa loob na s’ya ng bahay, marahil dahil sa ingay na nililikha ng bakyum kliner nila. Tumingkayad si Jun para kalabitin ang bumbunan ng ina, na agad namang tumingala.
“Aba, maaga ka yata ngayon.” Sabi ng ina,
“Hindi kita madinig, patayin mo muna ang bakyum, ma.” Sabi ni Jun, nakatingala sila sa isa’t isa
“Ano anak? Hindi kita madinig, papatayin ko muna itong bakyum.” Pinatay ng ina ni Jun ang bakyum cleaner. “Bakit maaga ka pinauwi ngayon?”
“May bulalakaw na pumasok sa bintana at tinamaan si Gng, Pagtalunan, patay na s’ya kaya pinauwi na kami.” Sabi ni Jun.
“Si Gng. Pagtalunan? Mabait na guro iyon, nakakalungkot naman.” Umiiling-iling ang ina ni Jun ng muling buksan ang bakyum at nagpatuloy sa paglilinis.
by Unknown at 5:17 AM 0 things said
Labels: anaknigod, hadbentyur, kamalasankontodo, kwentistainme, lipad, pagmumukha, panpil, supot, watdapak, yosistory
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
by Unknown at 8:18 AM 3 things said
Labels: anaknigod, daimos, enggelis, kalokohanlang, pangsayangoras, pugita, up, watdapak
http://www.formspring.me/estongdakila
Dahil gusto kong tinatanong ako, dahil gusto kong sumasagot. (Tsaka dahil pa-importanteng bwakanang hayop ako) May Formspring account na ako, Yehey! Palakpakan! Patayin si Santino!
by Unknown at 9:45 AM 0 things said
Labels: anaknigod, kalokohanlang, pagmumukha, pangsayangoras, watdapak
by Unknown at 8:21 PM 2 things said
Labels: anaknigod, enggelis, kalokohanlang, kamalasankontodo, pangsayangoras, panpil, watdapak, yosistory
Sunod-sunod na patalastas ng mga politikong gusto maging pangulo, gumagambala sa kaunting oras sa bawat araw na nilalaan ko sa panonood ng TV. Si Villar na pinagpipilitan sa ating mahirap lang talaga s'ya nung bata pa s'ya kahit na sa private school s'ya nag-aral at tatlong palapag ang bahay nila sa Tondo. Si Noynoy na pinangangalandakan ang mga 'nagawa' ng mga magulang n'ya samantalang 'di naman n'ya pinapansin ang issue ng Hacienda Luisita at Mendiola Massacre. Si Erap na pinangangalandakang ipinagkait sa kanya ng administrasyong Arroyo ang kalahati ng termino n'ya samantalang si Arroyo din ang dahilan kaya malaya s'ya ngayon. Bakit ba itong mga nasa tuktok ng mga survey na ito e walang ginawa kundi magpaawa?
by Unknown at 7:34 AM 4 things said
Labels: anaknigod, elections2010, historylesson, kamalasankontodo, pugita, supot, tae, watdapak
Okay, na-insipire ako nung plurk ni Othan na nanghihingi ng suggestions para sa mga kanta na pang JS Prom. Naisip ko lang, ang cool pala gumawa ng playlist para sa specific events. Halimbawa e yung Prom, o kaya Playlist kapag nakikiriot ka sa Quiapo gamit ang isang dos por dos. Kaya naisipan kong gumawa ng Challenge para sa sarili ko at para senyo na rin, gamit lamang ang lahat ng kanta na nasa Library ng media player ko ay gagawa ako ng playlist para sa matripan kong event. (note: yung dami ng kanta ay depende pa rin sa trip ko)
by Unknown at 11:21 PM 2 things said
Labels: anaknigod, kalokohanlang, pangsayangoras, playlistchallenge, pugita, watdapak
Geez, I just realized how much stuff I have lying around. I actually fear snakes might be living under my bed. Boxes upon boxes of books and sheets of paper and old notebooks and documents and photocopied readings and doodles and manuals and magazines and comics and stuff. Not to mention my toys and art tools and CDs and DVDs and dirty cotton buds and bloody laundry. Now there are cables and cords for the scanner, chargers for my handhelds, old game catridges, packs of cards, beer bottles, posters, old bags, a remote controlled car, old lamps, boxes with unknown content, empty cigarette boxes, robot exoskeletons, dead prostitutes, and the Holy Grail.
by Unknown at 5:17 AM 0 things said
Labels: anaknigod, kalokohanlang, kamalasankontodo, kwentistainme, mgaidol, nangiinis, pangsayangoras, sorry, watdapak
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.
by Unknown at 8:46 PM 5 things said
Labels: anaknigod, enggelis, kamalasankontodo, overdrama, pagmumukha, tae, tulala, up, watdapak, yosistory
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?
by Unknown at 5:13 AM 0 things said
Labels: anaknigod, bloodgloriousblood, enggelis, kamalasankontodo, overdrama, pagmumukha, pangsayangoras, watdapak
I admit it, you still make me feel weird.
by Unknown at 6:15 AM 32 things said
Labels: anaknigod, hayskul, historylesson, labistori, overdrama, pangsayangoras, sorry, tulala, watdapak, yosistory
http://www.plurk.com/p/2z83jx
Isang Mabilis na ginawang fiction, presented sa format ng Plurk.
by Unknown at 2:58 AM 0 things said
Labels: anaknigod, fiction, hayskul, kamalasankontodo, kwentistainme, overdrama, plurk, watdapak, yosistory