The Ender

Change is overrated. Or is it? Depends on the kind of change you're talking about. If it is the sort that political hopefuls spout, then it is overrated. If it is the sort that you do with yourself, where you pull your innards out and spill all the blood and gore for everyone else to see, that is praiseworthy, if I do say so myself. There is nothing more difficult, more raw, than to see yourself in all your imperfect glory, to see all the scars and the mistakes and the dirt of the days that hours of reflection had failed to cleanse.

It shatters one's illusion of oneself, and so we realize that the blood and the gore are much better, much easier on the eyes than the self-imposed filth, and we turn ourselves inside out, finally showing to the world who we really are, and we drop all masks, all walls, baring ourselves to the harsh eyes and miscalculations.

The bullets are dipped in acid. And they pierce, and go through flesh and bone, and they break free of the earthly barrier, specks of our soul scattered in their wake. We are left with nothing. And so we start with nothing.

And so I start with apologies.

To the soldier- no...the man who left his heart where no bullet could ever pierce it...
To the squid who sucked and took and abused until nothing was left of her victims...
To the gods and goddesses whose mortal shells were taken and used...
To the snowman who remained ignorant of the adoration of the abyss...
To the jack-of-all-trades who was mistakenly hit by my dagger...
To the comrades who were pushed away, their captain left to sink with her ship...
To the mother who never deserved an ungrateful daughter...
To the girl who would always stare at the snowflakes, the tiny complex forms fading away into nothingness before they ever reached her palms...

To everyone. To no one.

And so I end with wishes.

And other wishes that I choose to keep locked behind closed doors, sleeping and untouched. I fear the inevitable, more inevitable than death, that they may never come to a realization.

Can't Really Think of A Title.

This is the last time that I'll put shit of this kind here. Pardon the incoherence.

There's shit that we just can't let go of, no matter how much we employ wicked muscle action or how much laxative we pour down our throats. That's the kind of shit that sticks really bad, leaves a stain wherever it lands, and emits a fucked-up stench that may be worse than your brother's gaseous and disgusting posterior propulsion. That shit made my chest hurt and exhausted my tear duct reserves, as it stank to the high heavens.

You're the kind of shit that leaves a lasting stench and stain. But I wouldn't have it any other way. Dude, you're one kind of shit that no one else finds just anywhere. But I guess you found me and not the other way around. You started this beautiful mess, and we played in it with the eagerness and innocence of children (on your side anyway, since something was eating me up inside the whole time), and then things took a plunge down the Marianas. Really. I thought we were going down forever. Well I wouldn't mind if that happened. But things end sooner or later, specially things that weren't really supposed to go that deep. Or that serious.

So I told you more shit that was enough to drive away a steel-gutted Marine or even Superman, but they backfired. Everything. I say I hated this, turns out you hated it, too. I say I like something, turns out you're crazy about it. The freaking universe conspired for me to fuck up some more. You latched on. So did I. But I can't let the charade go on. I wanted to go on, but you can't. You were leaving for a place where you could possibly lose your life, and I can't let you hold on to shit. So I cut the string. I did it as slow as I could. But the connection was severed.

ROSIE, my cardiac organ does exist. The horror.

I can't listen to Chevelle and Lifehouse without remembering. I can't hear the words "yellow" and "coke" without wanting to throw myself down the nearest manhole. And I can't believe I said I hated Marilyn Manson. This sucks.

That bear better come back alive and whole. Or I wouldn't know what to do.

Para Sa Manunulat na si N.

Anong buwan na nga ba ngayon?

Ah. September.

Masarap pala mag-cut ng isang walang kakwenta-kwentang class na kung saan ang prof ay dakdak lang ng dakdak kahit tulog na ang mga estudyante niya. Mabait naman si Sir P.E., kaya lang sadyang hindi siya stimulating. Well, kung gusto mong ma-stimulate ang melatonin (N-acetyl-5-methoxytryptamine) mo, go ka lang sa kanyang class.

Remember yung Bio1 class natin? Pag nag-cut ako, andun ka. At kung kelan naman ako umattend, dun ka wala. Saya. Salisihan. Taguan.

Did you know? Gumawa ako ng blog tungkol sa'yo. It's nothing spectacular. Actually puro ramblings lang 'yun tungkol...well...tungkol sa 'yo. Duh.

Ilang buwan ko na din yun hindi na-update. Kahit ito ngang basurang blog (wow! alliteration!) na ito ay hindi ko na masyadong nababalikbalikan (obvious ba?). Well, at least alam kong may isa o dalawa akong masugid na mambabasa (i.e. tagabantay. HI TAY!).

Back to the blog. Binasa ko ulit ngayon. Natawa ako (i.e. humagalpak) sa mga pinagsususulat ko. Gusto mo mabasa ang ibang excerpt? Sige. Ihahain ko sa'yo chronologically.

---

March 18. Wednesday.
UNO.

"Pero inaamin ko. Napukaw mo ang interes ko nang makita kita sa pagitan ng double doors sa room natin sa NIGS. Papasok ka ng room, at ang naisip ko na lang, "Waw. Parang si Raymond Marasigan." - O ha. Para kang si Raymond Marasigan. Flattered ka no? Aminin. :D

"Siguro nangyari nung nakasalubong kita at sinabi kong, "Uy, walang class ngayon."

Sabi mo, "Ah walang class?" Sabay ngiti." - I know, I know. I am mushy. Go tell the Pope.

"Nagbasa ako.

At nag-increase ang speed (o acceleration? Ewan. Di ako physicist.) ng free fall ko. Writer ka nga pala. Hindi nag-sink in sa kamalayan ko until mabasa ko ang mga saloobin at gawa mo.

Wala akong masabi. Hindi naman ako established writer. Lalong hindi ako critic. Basta, ang blog mo ang propulsion.

Sino ang stimulus?

Ikaw." - isa pang ka-mushy-han. I don't do this often. Actually, this was the first time I've written in this way. And I don't think kaya kong i-replicate ito. I don't think I have any reason to.

March 19. Thursday.
DOS.

"Hindi naman kasi lahat ng babae eh gusto ang matangkad, maputi, chinito. Hello. You don't see me fawning over Chris Tiu, do you? On the contrary, I find him too...bland for my tastes. He's like a lapdog. LOL." - Sorry sa mga mahal kong kaibigan sa admu na makakabasa nito. Joke lang yan ha. For the sake of my (nonexistent) argument lang yang jab ko kay Chris Tiu. Honestly, what's not to like about him? He's nearly perfect, it's disgusting. JOKE. :D


March 20. Friday.
TRES.

"Hindi kita nakita ngayon.

(Cue chorus of wailing souls from the depths of Hell.)"

"Lahat ng tao complicated- biologically, psychologically o financially man 'yan. Pero ikaw? Sa tingin ko tinalo mo pati babaeng nagp-PMS (pre-menstrual syndrome) dahil sa complexity mo. Hoy, compliment 'yon. I mean it when I say that..." - Haha. Hanggang dun na lang. Nakakahiya na yung sunod kong sinabi eh. Too mushy. Too un-Rona-like.

"You trashed structure and replaced it with freedom." - Oo. Idol kita hanggang ngayon. Sana maging Palanca Awardee la, or National Artist sa hinaharap. Aabangan ko yan, ha?

March 21. Saturday.
CUATRO.

"...eh di sana tumalon na lang ako mula sa billboard ni Edu Manzano sa Tandang Sora. Mas madali pa.
Quick and painless, kung tamang anggulo ang pagbagsak ko." - Nope. Hindi. Hindi ako suicidal. Gago. I'm not really saying what I meant to say. Capische?

March 25. Wednesday.
CINCO.

"Naka-pink polo shirt ka noon. With white stripes pa. Naisip ko, Ayan ang patunay na real men wear pink." - Yeeeeesh. Manly ang pink pag ikaw ang nagsuot. :D

May 29. Friday.
SEIS.

"Akala ko, nawala na ang turbulent emotions that I pegged as childish admiration. Bakit ngayon, nang.." - and once again, ni-cut ko na dyan. Overly mushy and so unlike me.

"Ang pangit mo 'pag nakainom ka. Okay yung ruffled-look mo na parang kakagising na rockstar, pero 'pag hinaluan na ng alcohol...eeeew. Tsk."

"Inimagine kita na lasing na lasing, pagewang-gewang, mabantot, masangsang, namumula ang mata, mabaho ang hininga, at nagsusuka. Inisip ko kasi, baka maturn-off ako.
Aba! Masochista 'ata ako, kasi hindi nawala.
Hindi nawala." - mind you, vivid ang imagination ko. The mere fact that I still found you cute kahit malala ka pa sa presong pinakawalan sa strip club ay REMARKABLE. EPIC.

----

Ayan. It's either you're freaked out, or indifferent, o sanay na, o kaya naman ay flattered sa mga sinabi ko. Buti nga, excerpt lang yang mga yan. Kung gusto mo pang mawindang, hingin mo sa'kin yung URL.

On second thought, wag na. Kasi dedelete ko na din eh. Bakit?

Gago ka ba? Do you expect me to rot away in this hole I've dug for myself? NO THANKS. I'd rather disprove the existence of my cardiac organ. Magpakasaya ka dyan sa bundok mo.

HIndi ako galit. Badtrip lang. Kasi naman bumabagyo na naman pero hindi nila sinuspend yung classes. Tsk. M*therf*ckers.

Napansin ko lang. Nowadays I'm prone to rambling on and on and on about crap-knows-what. Without any direction whatsoever. Tungkol ba saan ang blog na ito? Noong una eh akala ko isa itong pamamaalam. On second thought, alam kong isa itong pagalala.

On Random Shiz

Exhaustion comes in many forms. There is the fatigue of the flesh, the feebleness of the mind, and the weariness of the *cardiac organ, depending on the events that transpire in an individual's life. This sense of tiredness may stem from the countless staircases that one has to climb in a day, or the pile of books one has to finish within two days, or the kind of life that one constantly sees from other people. Or the pressure from one's peers, the burden of having to wake up every morning. Once that sense of tiredness overcomes completely, one will know nothing save the persistent want for rest, to stop for a while. The body ceases all activity, but the worst case scenario is for the heart to tire of caring.

- - - - - -

Faith is a string wrapped around The Thing. Depending on who you are, that string may be tightly coiled- like a gnarled hand tightly clutched around a wad of dough- or slack- like the relaxed embrace of a dear friend. It could be entirely uncoiled, exposing what it had once hidden.

- - - - - -

I had an epiphany. We've been given enough shit to deal with that could last us more than a lifetime. Other people have been given more shit than they could handle. So they go over the edge. And they die. Just like that. Sometimes (those rare moments in human history when we actually give a shit), we care enough for a few lives to be saved. Or, we spend our waking moments worrying our asses off for the future of our country, planet, etc. We're not completely heartless. We do care, sometimes, when the ugliness and the stain of poverty on society presents itself right in front of our faces. We do care, sometimes, when the mistakes are so tangible and thick in the air that we can't breathe. Heck, we breathe in that miasma every single day we travel across the city, or walk to the sari-sari store to buy a bote of toyo/mantika/suka/etc, or go to the mall to shop/window shop, or watch the evening news (usually about who's pregnant, who broke up, who died, whose house was robbed/*insert random event of human suffering here*). We breathe in that fucked-up air of same mistakes every single second of our lives.

It's killing us, ain't it? We don't know, because we're so absorbed in surviving and studying and working and breathing. And seeing without really seeing. And hearing but not listening. And combing our brushes through our brains just to come up with a way to get by.

So here's my epiphany. It's a lot easier not to care. I've tried the other side, and it's given me nails on my fingers. And blisters on my toes. So I'd rather not care.

We'd rather not care.

Am I right? Or do you want to stone me now to death for saying that? I implore you to read. And dig. Don't just read. Dig deep and dig hard. Dig as though you're digging through a mountain of cash. That's the way to dig.

Posting for the Sake of Posting

It's only been a month. I'm still alive, so don't get your hopes up. It will take more than just schoolwork-from-hell to snuff my life out. :D

Hmm..so what can transpire in a month? Quite a lot, apparently. New people, new friends, new ahemprospectsahem...it's been a good, albeit exhausting, month. I've also made a number of realizations, one of which is the reason why my French was disastrous beyond compare during the last semester. The reason has been revealed to me through Divine Intervention...nah I kid. I merely exercised my self-control, refused to touch the computer (and the Internet, but that's intangible anyway), stopped myself from blogging and bloghopping, reading fanfiction, playing Neopets (what? It's fun.) and instead focused all my dreary nights on French (14 and 15) and German (10 and 11). And believe me, what I've learned within this month is more than what I've learned in a whole year (not to mention that my class standing is looking waaaaay better than Robert Pattinson. Take that, Twitards!) :D

Er..yeah. Hehe. I was that bad of a slacker. BUT I've changed! Swear! :D

Speaking of classes, I have the best set of professors a student can have within a single semester. First up, is my French 14/15 prof, Monsieur Ecclesiastes Papong. He is a RIOT! And I mean that in a totally positive way. He will enter the room in a no-nonsense way while toting his huge boombox, say "On va commence" and then...the learning and the bullshitting and the crazy fun starts. He's definitely the best French prof I've ever had. Next is Frau Roorkee Ong, my Deutschlehrerin. She is, again, as undescribable as Monsieur Papong. She's this tall, stately woman who looks like a rockstar despite her stern countenance. And for me, she is! And she draws upon personal "Europe" experiences in class, which makes learning from her all the more refreshing and worthwhile. I haven't been this relaxed in a language class. Ever.

Oh. In less than a week, Harry Potter and the Halfblood Prince will hit the theaters. Do I need to tell you how psyched I am? Nah, I don't. But I'll tell you anyway (just for the heck of it). I. AM. SO. UNBELIEVABLY. ABSOLUTELY. UNDENIABLY. PSYCHED. Really. Truly. Deeply. (Do I sound like I'm obsessed? Nope, not obsessed. Just...enamored. Caught. Entranced. With what, you ask? Why, with the story's pure genius, of course! Harry Potter (the book, not the character) is actually what attracted the millions of readers, not some undead pedophile from some obscure book. (Sorry. Can't resist.) :D

Anyhow..I am aware that my writing right now isn't exactly lucid..so..I'm going to make myself scarce. Right now. Ja.

Since I Can't Say It Out Loud...

WARNING: Bound to get personal, mushy and downright asinine. No particular direction, really. This is going off in countless ways, like a crossroad gone crazy. Again, watch your step.

I have no clue if I should be thrilled that classes have been moved to a later date because somehow, the pros outweigh the cons (read: allowance *wink wink*), but whatever. I think I'll kill sometime here, and release virtual crap into the void. This could be about anyone, could go anywhere, and just be anything, really.

So, yesterday, my friend since preschool celebrated her first foray into womanhood, AKA, her 18th birthday. I've been reacquainted with some friends whom I haven't seen for more than a year, and I realized that I no longer am updated with what's going on in their lives. We've all moved on to other things...greater things. Some are moving on with a leisurely stroll. Some are running and pushing themselves as if the hellhounds are at their heels. We are all moving, and the only constant thing is the fact that we are all different- no longer on the same page, no longer following the same goals, no longer moving at the same pace.

I know that people change, but I haven't realized until lately that relationships also do in such a short span of time. But what the heck, they are my friends. And I know very well how difficult it is to put up with me. I am a slanderous, narcissistic, cynical, hypercritical, sanctimonious bitch (with a capital B) who's not easy on the eyes AND certainly does not deserve enduring friends. But still, I have them in epic proportions, and that's more than what other people can say for themselves. I am thankful, but since I'm an emotionally-constipated cow, I do not let them know how high up in my priorities they are. Maybe I've let loose a couple of mushy words in their blogs or cellphones or in person (which is rare), but that's it. I think I'm taking them for granted.

Nah. I AM taking them for granted.

Friends, I know that some of you have read, are reading or might read this, so lemme tell you one thing: just tell me to SHUT THE HELL UP and CUT THE CRAP if I'm being too much to handle. Really, I won't bite your heads off if you tell me to shut up once in a while, and you are my friends so I'm bound to listen to you, yeah? Seriously, I can listen to you guys, too. All I need is a tiny, microscopic magnitude (talk about contradictions :D) of trust.

Now I feel like the lowest low-life on the face of this god-forsaken place. I am lightyears away from being a good person, but I'm trying my damnedest to get there, even if I'm doing it in a snail's pace. I know it's going to take me a whole lifetime because change isn't a split-second phenomenon, and it's actually harder than we think to take into consideration what other people tell us, and morph the 'beast' into 'beauty'. But the point is, I am more than amenable to metamorphose into a more agreeable creature who bites and barks less. I won't go psycho on you guys if you point out a not-so-likeable trait, or an attitude problem (well in that case, I might have to change EVERYTHING. :P). If I do freak out, you could always threaten to call B.S.C. (aka Astroboy) or watch HP6 without me. That would do the trick.

So, to LeaIaKrisannRayDreiAjRuthRoselleClaireAdrian

MarielleGabbiMikkaJoyNikkiRaymondMarkXela

KatrinaMishMegBetsyAnalynRovelleJennicaNicole

YoyaTentenSarahMiggyCheskaTheaJenCharo (but most importantly, to the first twelve names mentioned), thank you from the substratum of my filthy, evil cardiac organ.

If I have one, that is. :D

My Crappy Soundtrack

CRS is being its usual, annoying, slow-as-molasses self, and it's pissing me off. I'm pretty sure some of you can sympathize with my plight, so excuse this product of my boredom.

Here's the sorta-kinda-maybe soundtrack of my life (I wanna feel like my life's a boring movie, so just humor me, okay? Thank you). So far. Some songs just leave a lasting mark, some actually tell a story about me, and some I like just for the heck of it.

T H E P L A Y L I S T ;)

30 Seconds To Mars - From Yesterday - 'On a mountain he sits, not of gold, but of sin' - Sometimes, we stay seated, and the mountain grows higher and higher until we could no longer see the bottom. The mountain never stops growing anyway, but we could retard its growth, erode its body with measures only we know of. But we never do, do we?

The Cardigans - Lovefool - Ia-chan knows my fascination with this song when we were high school seniors. She knows it sooooo well since I can't help but belt it out every time the beautiful Narcissus named Michael Blancaver would pass by in a swift sprint, his hair rippling in the wind, his supple limbs carrying him away to...*ahem* Sorry. Got carried away.

Switchfoot - You - This made me realize that faith is a precious gift I have yet to receive.

Jason Mraz - A Beautiful Mess - Practically every song of Jason Mraz could leave a mark (because he's a songwriting genius, who's hot to boot, but that's beside the point), but this one...just surpassed everything he has ever written. In my opinion, at least. I won't go into detail why this song is here. It just is, and I'm happy for that.

Jason Mraz - Love for A Child - 'What about taking this empty cup and filling it up with a little bit more of innocence' - For someone who deserved a carefree childhood, one with lesser pain and responsibility, you know who you are. Thank you.

Hawthorne Heights - This Is Who We Are - Just plain wicked. I don't need a reason to like it. :D

The Used - Paralyzed - The song's kooky and fun, despite the highschool drama lyrics.

Staind - Everything Changes - Because everything changes. It's just too bad that we realize it a little too late, sometimes.

Jimmy Eat World - The Middle - Never fails to inspire without sounding like a guidance counselor on crack.


Alanis Morissette - You Oughta Know - 'Does she know how you told me you'd hold me until you died, till you died, but you're still alive' - Always makes me think of the typical bastard who cheated on his girlfriend, only with this song, the scenario in my head involves his tied-up corpse, lots of blood, a satisfied ex-girlfriend and the bottom of a nearby lake. :D

Smash Mouth - All Star - 'Your brain gets smart but your head gets dumb' - The best wake-up call that I've ever had. Statistics isn't everything. Numbers do not make the world go round. We can go on with our lives believing the crap that others feed us, but at the end of the day, those figures don't and won't matter. What will matter is you. Me. Us. After all, it's our lives. We make it happen. Not the diploma. Not the number of digits in our paycheck. Not those exchange rates in the newspaper. Not the amount of people above the poverty line, nor those below it. It's easier said than done, but it's probably for the best.

...

So...that's that. I most likely will encounter more songs that would tickle my fancy for good in the near future, but as of the moment, that is IT. Share your own soundtracks, will ya? ;)