Wednesday, June 29, 2005

Ngyuk Ngyuk

Have you read the official transcript of PGMA's apology about the whole Garci brouhaha? If not, I don't blame you. It's extremely boring, not to mention contradictory. I don't get it, why say sorry if you haven't done anything wrong?

Howell, before I regurgitate my dinner (haven't had breakfast yet), I will stop pretending to discuss serious politics because I don't know shiet about it. Instead, read this Statement of the President so you can at least smile, heck, even laugh your guts out.

An excerpt:

Mga kababayan kong super-enlababo kay watash!

For the last several weeks, yung mga eksenachie tungkolchinabelles doonchienabelles sa tapesung galore eh naloka na nang naloka. Tonight, bet ni watashi na ikemeng barurut ang
mga sholoktot na chika. Needsung nyez talaga ng mga truksivang chika galing ke watashi, because kayez ang mga utawsingbelles na nag-elect aver kay watashi.



Galore! :-)

Tuesday, June 21, 2005

The Royal Weirdebaums 2


This is the complete set. My mom made it, too much free time. We'll have to charter a bus to go somewhere all together, that's without the parents. Didn't realize the clan was so productive, sheesh. Actually, that's not much really, all of us came from eight sets of parents. Posted by Hello

The Royal Weirdebaums


We're not complete here, but as you can see, it runs in the family. Guess which one of them is me. Clue: Role Model for the Youth. Hee hee. Posted by Hello

Saturday, June 18, 2005

Cocktail Hour



How to make a ruby grace
Ingredients:

1 part success

1 part brilliance

5 parts empathy
Method:
Stir together in a glass tumbler with a salted rim. Add a little cocktail umbrella and a dash of lustfulness

Thursday, June 16, 2005

Dog Day Afternoon

Somebody poke me in the eye, I'm so damn lazy these days. I'm always sleepy and all I do is think of my bed. I just want to lie down all day long. If my room is air conditioned and I had the money to pay for the consequent electric bill I would do it.

I don't have the energy to do simple things like organize my desk, even though I'm up to here with filing backlog. I just want to go home.

I feel like my body has been invaded by something else.

Wednesday, June 15, 2005

Which Kill Bill Assassin Am I?

O-Ren Ishii (Cottonmouth)




You're O-Ren Ishii! Twisted and homicidal, you respect most people, but let them know not to mess with you. You have a talent for sensing danger, and keep only the most loyal and skilled people around you.

Kill Bill: Which Deadly Viper Assassin Are You? (Vol. II spoilers... results with pics)

Monday, June 13, 2005

Be Careful of What You Wish For

Last week, in Daday's tagboard, I said that sometimes I wish I'm so sick that they had to confine me in a hospital. I just wanted to lie down for days with the cable TV and aircon and meals coming in on time. I was even specific about what I would be sick with, it should make me lose weight. I already had something in mind: gastritis.

Fast forward five days later. I was supposed to go to first day of class but I couldn't because I had a fever. The next day was worse, I was throwing up and making the toilet bowl my best friend. I didn't go to work.

Later that day, when SO visited me, I was worse. I was pale and weak and sweating buckets. We decided to go to the hospital, and I got my wish.

Yep, it was right on -- gastritis. For four days they pricked me and drew blood and poked me and made me swallow vile medicine that was supposed to make me better. Oh yeah, when the nurse say they're just gonna do a little skin test, run away from her fast. Don't believe that it's only "parang kagat lang ng bee," right, if the bee is Jollibee.

The cable TV and the aircon and the meals were there. The diet instructions for my first few meals were called BRAT, so I think it's a kind of punishment (banana, rice, apple, tea). But mine should have said B*TCH, I was never a brat.

It was hard sleeping when you have an IV connected to your hand. Sometimes they give me oxygen so I have those tickly things poking me in the nose. It was a nuisance going to the bathroom because I had to wake up my perpetually sleeping bantay to drag the IV stand. Really, my companions got more rest than I did.

Yes, I lost weight. Am I happy? Had I known I will be getting my wish, I should have wished for a million dollars. And Dennis Trillo. Sigh.

Saturday, June 04, 2005

Hello World

Couldn't breathe. Head spinning. Close eyes. Open. Room spinning. Sit down. Take a deep breath.

Look in the mirror. No changes. Yet. Wonder when.

Pick up the evidence. Nope. Couldn't be. But yes, there it is.

Room spinning again.

Cry.

Laugh.

Cry.

Pick up phone. Start to dial. Stop. Think about it for the hundredth time.

Lie down. Cry.

Smile.

Hello world.

Wednesday, June 01, 2005

Strength of a Butterfly

Got this text message from my college friend:

"Bru, dead na si husband. Accident sya kanina 2am. Aga ko nabyuda noh?"

See, this is Ms Congeniality talking. I've never seen her depressed, ever. Even when she broke up with a longtime boyfriend, she was laughing while crying. Strangely, it wasn't strange with her. She was like that. When her folks discovered she spent the night with her boyfriend, they went to our apartment and slapped my friend in front of all of us. She cried for a bit, and when the parents left she was her old self again. I suspected she only cried for show.

So we went to the wake, braving Cubao during rush hour to catch a ride to Marikina. I am a total dunce when it comes to commuting to those areas, so I dragged the SO and another college friend to go with me. College friend has just given birth barely a month ago and I assume the anesthesia has eaten up some of her brain cells so it was up to the SO to babysit us.

We found the church without any major complications. True enough, Ms Congeniality was there entertaining visitors like it was a birthday party line up. Of course, it might be that it hasn't sunk in yet, sudden deaths do that. Heck, even when my father died, it took me a full three days to finally get the situation. My father was in and out of the hospital for 2 years.

So she saw us, and there was the hugging-without-speaking, and for the first time I saw that she was really and deeply overwhelmed by everything. She didn't have to say it out loud, it was there in her eyes once you're able to go past the smile.

If that happened to me, nobody can speak to me for days. I would be a pathetic heap in a corner of the room, crying for hours on end, or just under a state of shock.

I don't know how deeply this will affect her, but I know that she will survive and move on with the help of her smile. There lies her strength, the will to always be happy, to look for happiness in any situation.

Suffering = Great Writing?

ExpectoRant once said in his blog that suffering results in great pieces. I will not argue with this since that is his opinion.

However, in my case, I seem to have constipation of the brain whenever I feel depressed or sad. I just can't bring all my thoughts into writing. When my father died, I couldn't write to save my life.

"The best time to write is when you're heartbroken. Its when you can't cry, yet your eyes feel like they're bleeding. Or its when you cry over the most mundane things like watering the stupid fortune plant with his name on it. It can also be while listening to Beyonce's Baby Boy and totally relating to the song, it's all about you and your life. I guess, its also the best way to overcome your writer's block.

I haven't written for more than a month. I can't bring my thoughts to the screen, to be seen in black and white. I convinced myself I was too busy to write. What I really didn't want was my most miserable moments to be replayed upon a click of the mouse. It's so hard, at the same time therapeutic, to write everything you are possibly feeling at any given moment. Its even harder to remember, because the brain shuts out the unpleasant memories from your mind.

I promised that I would write about my father's death. Yet those days were already blurry, I could hardly remember what I felt when I looked down on my father's body, covered with a blanket in the hospital bed, and later in the morgue. What I remembered was realizing that life is indeed short, and we shouldn't waste one minute of it. I loved my father deeply, but not enough. The tears we shed at his expense were those words left unsaid, emotions not expressed."


And then that was the most I could do. I couldn't finish it...what I was writing was suddenly taking over. My fingers are numbing, my throat was closing, I even thought I was having panic attacks. But it was just my brain saying "Stop, before you harm yourself". I contradicted myself.

Like now. This is a rehashed entry if you didn't notice, because in my opinion, suffering does not equal great writing.