Showing posts with label watdapak. Show all posts
Showing posts with label watdapak. Show all posts

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.)

Listahan

28 December 2010

1.

Lista ng mga bagay na malalamig: bagyo, beer, bentilador, boses ni Armi, bote, bughaw, hangin, kama, kanin, kwarto, pasko, puso, sigarilyo, sorbetes, ulam, ulan, unan.

2.
Nagbabasa ako ng libro mula sa ibabaw ng balikat ng katabi ko sa bus, ang libro ay may kwento tungkol sa pag-ibig. Ako rin.

3.
Sabihin na nating ang mga bote ng beer na gumugulong sa sahig ng kwarto ko ay marka na ako ay mag-aalaga ng pusa sa mga susunod na araw. 

4.
Ang mga isda sa palengke ay laging nasa palengke, ang isda sa dagat ay hindi mas masarap kainin pero may kasamang paghihirap ng paghuli. Ang isda sa palengke na pinalaki pa sa palaisdaan ay nakakatamad na isda.

5.
Mga Kailangan ko na nagsisimula sa Pa-: Palabas, Palaso, Pandesal, Panulat, Papel, Parabula, Parachute

6.
Karatula sa Hong Kong:
"No Smoking I Will Crazy"

7.
Kapag ang buwan ng sintu-sintong pagsasaya ay naging buwan ng pagkahulog ng himpapawid patungo sa akin, magugunaw na ang mundo.

8.
Takot ako sa dilim.

9.
Sa mga pagkakataong hindi ka matulungan ni John Lloyd, o ni John Cusack, o ni John Mayer. Mabuti pang kumunsulta kay Johnny Walker.

10.
Listahan ng laman ng entri na ito: Isang lista ng mga bagay na malalamig, isang inimbentong kwento, isang propesiya, isang isda, isang listahan na may nawawala, isang karatulang hindi sinusunod, isang sintu-sintong propesiya, isang katotohanan, isang payong pang kaibigan, isang listahan ng laman ng entri na ito.

Midnight Drama: Part One of What Could be A Long Series of Drama

31 October 2010

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.

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.

Your Mom is Looking for Comic Book Artists!

04 October 2010

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.


Munting samahan lang naman ng mga komikerong naghahanap din ng komikero na gusto gumawa kasama namin. Madaming titles na nakapila, may mga writer kasi kaming walang kakayahan i-drowing ang sarili nilang mga kwento kaya naghahanap kami ng mga gustong sumali sa amin!

Kung mahilig ka sa komiks, marunong ka magdrowing ng komiks, nakakaintindi ka ng comic script aba kontakin mo kaagad ako! Kelangan kita!

Plano naming matapos ang aming mga proyekto at mailabas ang unang anthology sa Summer Komikon sa Mayo.

Kontakin mo ako!
E-mail : estongdakila@live.com

Kung may kilala kang tingin mo gusto din gumawa ng komiks pakilala mo sa akin! Salamat!

It's a Blog, What Do You Expect?

07 September 2010

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.


This is a blog, and it's about bullshit emotions and stupid slice of life stories written in the crappiest possible.

Having said those stupid excuses, I'm gonna start with the vague allusions and senseless statements again. Not now, but soon.

----

Okay, maybe a little now.

I feel like a dick when I'm with you. I feel like I'm trying to come-off as something impressive and always falling short. I metaphysically slap my forehead every now and then for saying something stupid, or just plain acting like an idiot. There is so much of me that speaks of staying calm, of just being myself, but I end up doing these stupid things anyway. Or at least I think they're stupid, maybe you don't. I don't have enough balls to risk it.

I know it's futile and stupid and I'm not doing myself any favors by obsessing over it, it's just that there's nothing I can do. It's too late, what opportunity I may have had I lost a long time ago. I never recognized it. And even if I did, I wouldn't know what to do with it.

There is very little in this, this, whatever it is that stays and keeps us strangers from each other. Too little for me to try to figure out what it is. Too little, so we stay like this, on opposite sides of I don't know what. You just going on with your life. Me obsessing over this border I cannot cross, the fence I cannot see, the walls I cannot remove.

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.

Ano Nanamang Ka-Emohan 'To?

15 July 2010

Nalulungkot ako, wow, astig, mind-boggling news.


Masaya naman ang buhay ko, nageenjoy ako sa mga klase ko kahit na di hamak na mas maraming babasahin kesa sa mga ibang taon ko sa UP (siguro dahil binabasa ko na talaga ang mga babasahin). Nagsusulat ako ng prosa sa wikang mas mabilis ako magsulat (ingles, masakit mang aminin napakabagal at masalimuot ko magsulat sa Filipino), magagaling ang mga propesor ko at madami akong natututunan na dati rati'y nadidinig ko na pero wala akong interes noon. Nakakapagsulat ulit ako, ng madami, at nakakapag palitan ako ng pananaw, hinuha at pagkakaintindi sa mga matatalinong kaklase at propesor. Masaya maging estyudante ulit.

Hindi ako binabagabag ng mga problema tungkol sa sweldo, sa trabaho, sa mga sablay na ginagawa sa opisina, sa pagbabudget ng sweldo, sa pagbabayad ng sarili kong kinakain at tinitirhan, regular ang koneksyon ko sa internet. Nagpapakasasa nanaman ako sa pera ng magulang ko. Kahit na nahihiya na ako sa ganitong kalagayan, aaminin kong mas konbinyente nga ito at dapat lang na maging masaya ako dahil dito.

Ang mga kaibigan ko ay nariyan lang, kahit na madami ay nasa Med School na, nag-tatrabaho na, o basta gradweyt na e hindi naman talaga sila nawawala. Si Jammin at Roxanne ay sumusulpot pa rin paminsan-minsan sa Peyups (at si 633 nga e natanggap pa sa PNG habang nakatambay doon, sa sobrang invested ko sa paghahanap n'ya ng trabaho e lehitimong pagkatuwa ang naramdaman ko din noon). Si Tinek naman e alam ko naman kung nasaan lang, minsan parang naiisipan kong sugurin sa tinitirhan n'ya, alam kong pwede ko gawin yun. Kapag tinext ko sila nagrereply naman, ganun din ang iba pang parte ng barkadang wala na sa Diliman.

Ang barkada naman sa Diliman ay medyo mas lumalalim ang masayang pagsasama, sina Froilan, Zion, Nigel, Mark, Melgar atbp, na parang hiwalay na grupong pareho lang ng tambayan ay mas lalo pang nakikilala bilang mga totoong tao (minsan parang hindi pa rin sila tao, pero medyo mas tao na sila), na hindi naman puro gaguhan lang. Syempre mas madaming gaguhan pero may maayos, malalim, at masasayang pag-uusap tungkol sa mga bagay na sa dulo't dulo ay naiisip kong sila lang ang pwede ko makausap tungkol.

Sa bahay naman ay wala lang, ganun pa rin. Wala namang malaking malabong gulo na magdudulot ng anumang grabeng lungkot. Maayos ang pakikisama sa isa't isa kahit nga sa kuya ko, kahit papano. Patuloy akong natutuwa sa mga kwento ng bunso namin tungkol sa pag-aaral n'ya at sa mga pagkakampihan namin sa mga laro sa facebook. Kahit na bigayan man lang ng servings sa Baking life o ng Luxuries sa Hotel City.

Pero dahil wala akong kwentang nilalang at emo (daw) ako, malungkot ako. Kung isa akong stereotypical na emo ay yayaman ang Gilette sa akin.

Minsan nakasakay ako sa bus at nag-iimagine pa rin ako, naghahanap ng mga bagay na hindi ko naman ine-effortan makuha, hindi dahil sa tinatamad ako (ang karaniwang dahilan) kundi dahil hindi ko alam kung paano, tsaka natatakot na din, nanaman, eto nanaman. Kahit ako nagsasawa na sa paulit-ulit na kakornihang hindi sinosolusyonan.

Sadya lang yatang pinapakorni ko ang masaya ko namang mundo, pero naiingit ako, nalulungkot ako, nanghihinayang ako at naghahanap ako. Wala e, ganun yata talaga kapritso ko. Hindi ko nga alam bakit ginagawa ko pang vague ang mga statement ko, kunwari ba naman hindi n'yo pa alam. Ang labo ko talaga, walangya.

Uwian na: Excerpt

25 April 2010

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.

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

Tanungin mo si Ernest

02 April 2010

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!

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?

Paligsahan ng Paghingi ng Awa

18 March 2010

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?


Tignan mo itong si Villar, "bumalik na lang sana ako sa pagiging negosyante." Bakit Manny, umalis ka ba? E ikaw ang numero unong halimbawa ng burukrat na kapitalista. Pinapatakbo ang bansa na parang isang kumpanya. Hindi ka ordinaryong kurakot, ikaw yung tipong ginagamit ang kapangyarihan hindi para sa pagkamkam ng yaman kundi para sa mga konting maniobra na makakalamang ka. Tulad na lang ng sa C5 road extension, ilihis ba ng konti ang kalsada para makinabang naman si Mr. Villar.
Yun paraan mo din ng pangangampanya, ikaw mismo alam mong nasira ang sure-win mo na sanang kandidaturya nung pumasok sa eksena itong si Noynoy. Kaya ngayon desperado kang gumagastos ng milyun-milyon para itaas ang sarili sa mga ratings, para ibida ang kawalan mo ng pera. Ang galing, napakapoetic ng kampanya mo, punung-puno ng irony.
New School TRAPO itong si Manny, TRAPO pa rin pero makabago na style, hindi na masyado halata. Pero ganun pa rin, puro pakitang gilas, puro kasinungalingan, puro para sa sarili ang mga ginagawa.

May nakakalimutan ba tayo tungkol kay Erap? Convicted, CONVICTED, ng graft & corruption. Nagnakaw na, alam na, makukulong na nga dapat kung may lakas ng loob lang yung Huwes. Mabubulok na nga sana sa Tanay kung di lang pinagbigyan ni Gloria (tanga rin kasi itong mamatay tao nating Presidente). Eto pa, para lang patunayan na insulto sa mga aso na tawaging dog-eat-dog ang pulitika ng Pilipinas, TUMAKBO PANG PRESIDENTE! Inaway pa yung mismong taong nagpalaya sa kanya "Dog does not bite the hand that feeds it" apparently, ibang uri ng animal itong hinayupak na to.
Nakalimutan na ba natin ang dahilan kung bakit pinalayas natin ng Malacañang itong hayup na ito in the first place? Sabi ko nuong may bali-balita pa lang na tatakbo itong si Erap, kapag pinayagan s'ya ng Comelec, wala na talaga tayong respeto sa sarili nating Saligang Batas.
Ngayon naman, kapag nanalo itong si Erap, wala na tayong respeto sa Judicial system nating humusga sa kanya ng guilty, wala pa tayong awa sa sarili nating bansa, sa sarili nating mga pamilya, sa ulam na hinahain natin sa mesa.

Sino ang pinaka Trapo mangandidato sa lahat ng kandidato ngayon? Si Noynoy! Yehey!
Sino ang nangunguna sa mga survey? Si Noynoy! Yehey!
Kelangan na nating tumigil sa pagboto sa mga Icon. Nanalo si Erap dahil Icon s'ya ng kahirapan, nanalo si Cory dahil Icon s'ya ng namatay na Trapong si Ninoy Aquino (na hindi naman sana magiging bayani kung di lang namatay, bwiset na Trapo yan), Icon s'ya ng lahat ng naghihirap sa Martial Law, at sa Rehimeng Marcos. Bakit nangunguna si Noynoy? May experience ba s'ya? Wala. May napatunayan na ba s'ya? Wala. May kaya ba s'yang gawin? Ewan ko, malay natin? Magbabakasakali nanaman ba tayo sa isang ICON na kaya lang naman pinatakbo ng partido n'ya e dahil namatay ang nanay n'ya at masosolid nila ang Sympathy Vote n'ya (na sinusubukan agawin ni Villar gamit ang 'namatay ang utol ko' line). PUTANG INA! Lahat na lang ng patalastas ng kalbong ito e pinangangalandakan n'ya kung gaano kagaling ang mga namatay n'yang magulang at kung gaano n'ya gusto ituloy ang mga nasimulan ng mga ito. SAMANTALANG kapag binabato mo na s'ya ng issue tungkol sa administrasyon ng nanay n'ya o sa mga pinapatay sa lupain nila ang sagot na n'ya e "Huwag n'yo pong ibato kay Senator Aquino ang mga nagawa o hindi nagawa ng mga kamag-anak n'ya, ibang tao po si Senator Aquino, s'ya po ang husgahan natin." Putang inang Ipokritong double standard yan. E wala ka ngang maihusga kay Noynoy, Wala naman s'yang meron e! Puro lang dada tungkol sa pagpapatigil ng korapsyon samantalang kaapu-apuhan s'ya ng mga panginoong may lupa na pinagkakait sa mga magsasaka ang lupang nasa batas naman na dapat na ay sa kanila. Korapsyon? Ayun ang korapsyon, na ang batas ay hindi nag-aaply sa pamilya ni Aquino dahil mas makapangyarihan sila.
Oo, suklam na suklam ako kay Aquino, dahil pinuputa n'ya sa atin ang mga namatay n'yang magulang bilang dahilan kaya s'ya ang dapat iboto. Sabagay, wala naman s'yang maipagmalaki na major bill na naipasa tulad ng running mate n'ya. Wala s'yang experience ng mga kalaban n'ya. Wala s'yang kahit ano, ang meron lang si Noynoy ay ang pamilya n'ya, ang nabubulok n'yang apelyido.

Oo na, medyo OA na ang inis ko kay Noynoy, pero para n'yo nang awa, huwag n'yo iboboto itong tatlong to ha? Please?

The *insert special occasion* Ultimate Playlist Challenge

18 February 2010

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)


So Sampol muna: Playlist mo Kapag nahuhulog ka sa sobrang lalim na bangin.
1. Let's not Wrestle Mt. Heart Attack - Liars (dahil parang nahuhulog ka talaga sa bangin opening pa lang ng kantang to)
2. Slip - Kjwan (ang parang pinipreview na sa'yo yung nagbabagong apoy sa impyerno, tapos parang mamatay ka na talaga sa lyrics)
3. Sa Ilalim -Kjwan (wala lang kasi pun yung title)
4. Falling For You - Jem (para kunwari naiinlove ka lang kahit totoo lang mamatay ka na)
5. Everybody Thinks You're Crazy - Itchyworms (para mainis ka sa mundong ibabaw at gustuhin mo nang mamatay na lang talaga)

Limang kanta lang kasi malamang naman umabot ka na sa ending nung bangin n'yan.

Yay! Ang saya! Next time ulit!

Indiana Jones and the Room of the PackRat GeekBum!

16 February 2010

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.


I do try to get stuff organized. Every time I do, I get sneezing fits and itch all over because I am allergic to dust (considering the amount of dust in my room, I should be dead by now). That is part of the reason that most of the stuff are in boxes and in drawers now (my only cabinet is reserved for clothes and I do not have shelves). I try my best to throw stuff out whenever I clean up, but the problem is the "throw-out" box, always end up being declared "Hey-I-could-use-this-for-some-crafts" box or "this-stuff-will-be-interesting-to-read-one-day" box and the like.

I would like to finish this blog entry and stuff, but I'm kinda in the middle of trying to organize and failing miserably at it, so there you go.

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.

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.

Pathetic Loser Admits Pathetic Loserness

29 December 2009

I admit it, you still make me feel weird.


Don't get me wrong I really really appreciate that your in love and all that. You like this guy, and he's probably a really nice guy, he's real good looking and all that, he's even artistic and all that, we could actually be buddies. But hell, here I am, being miserable for something that is five years old. God, I probably sound so pathetic right now.

I remember Prom night, yes this will so pathetic, when I held you in my arms and we danced some weird dance-like thing. I must've stepped on your foot for at least three times, cut me slack, I was nervous. Do you still remember what I told you? Probably not, fifty other guys were on the line to dance with you. I said, "Pinapangarap ko to ng tatlong taon.", something like that. Pathetic losers like me say stuff like that.

It's very very weird.

You know what I'm doing right now? I'm looking at your facebook photos, and photographs I took way back when. I am looking at them and I feel so pathetic doing it.

No, really, don't mind me. I'm a writer, I write stuff, this is what I do, so don't you go worrying about the stuff I've been saying. Not that you'll be able to read this anyway, never had that much confidence since second year highschool, and that was done in a really cowardly way too, giving you all those pathetic poems I did. Do you still have them? Probably stuffed underneath your pillow or something? Hah, I wish, if you still have it it's probably deep in the pile of stuff all the guys that try to win your heart has given you.

I don't even understand this, It's not like there were no girls after you, I had my fair share, and then some. You we're, like, the girl that never was. That I never went any distance with. Maybe that's it, I placed you on the pedestal, my deity, nobody can take you place inside of me, you'd always be that special creature of the human species that will torment my internal organs forever. And that makes me pathetic.

A friend says, "It's just weird, it's never pathetic." Maybe she's right, liking you is never pathetic, your the first girl I used the word "love" with, that may not be so pathetic. If you we're just another trophy beauty damsel then it would be very pathetic but you're not. You're the female human that stood in a place in my consciousness and never left.

I don't know, maybe I'm just regressing, sorry for wasting you're time. I'm pretty sure he's a great guy and he loves you very much. Click nga kayo 'di ba? Hahaha. yeah I stalk him too so I know he's pretty neat, and I hate that because it doesn't give me a reason to hate the guy. So there, just had to say it, keep in touch.

Sorry for being weird, don't worry, I have no idea what I'm talking about either.

A conversation (Flash Fiction)

14 December 2009

http://www.plurk.com/p/2z83jx
Isang Mabilis na ginawang fiction, presented sa format ng Plurk.

 
ODIFMI Diaspora - by Templates para novo blogger