Thursday, December 25, 2008

At the Graveyard

Christmas Day. Your lovely blue heart. Keep bleeding, keep, keep bleeding love…

She told me this once
And never again, once beside her
Father’s dying grave, the rubble
Passing away with every lash of
Wintry wind and every fall of
Yellowed leaf, I had then spied
The rising of a tiny shoot of grass
The head bore droplets of morning
Dew, starved like tigresses
Tired from night-long hunting
The shoot rose a few inches from
Where the epitaph stood,

The marble graying and flying off, 
Shooting steamy sparks 'round the yard
I could barely read what was
Etched on the cold and grainy
Stone, yet the doves taunted me
From where they sat, on
The tireless branch of
The lone tree, like an island
In the middle of a vast expanse
Her words were daggers
Sent my heart beating like
Frenzied clownfish, my face
Flushed like blooming roses
I stood beside the grave
And endured her whipping
Glancing every now and then
At the darkening sky
The clouds in wordless
Slightly agitated procession.

Friday, December 19, 2008

Mga Dyosa ng Bahay: Foreword and Reflection

Ano ang mangyayari kung ang isang mata-pobreng Amerikana ay magiging syota ng isang desperadong wanna-be-Pinay Pinoy? Paano kaya tatanggapin ng mga kamag-anak ng Pilipinang ‘to ang balitang uuwi ang magsyota para magbakasyon sa Pilipinas? Magki-klik kaya ang pamilyang Juan de la Cruz kay Auntie Sam? O posible bang iiba ang ihip ng hanging habagat?

This is Mga Dyosa ng Bahay, a short story written in partial fulfillment of the requirements in Communication Arts IV – Filipino for the 3rd grading period. Split into seven chapters in its unpublished form for the purpose of an organized blogspace, it tackles the... well, never mind.

Read along and be bedazzled by my first full-length Filipino work.

Oh, and by the way, if you’re from Huasiong, feel free to laugh out loud. *wink*

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Nagsilbing mga inspirasyon ng kuwentong ito ang mga PRISAA at High School Week declamation pieces ng aking dalubhasang batchmate na si Marielle Karina Barredo, ilan sa aking mga guro sa paaralan (na ang mga pangalan ay hindi ko na isusulat dito pero sigurado akong kilala niyo na rin), ang dalawa kong napakagandang tiyahin sa father’s side, at pati na rin ang mga isinulat ni Bob Ong sa kanyang aklat na ABNKKBSNPLAko.

Ang pamagat ng kuwento na “Mga Dyosa ng Bahay” ay tumutukoy sa apat na mga babae (well, technically, dalawang senyorita at dalawang bading) na direktang may kinalaman sa buhay ng pangunahing tauhan na si Janet. Ito ay dahil rin sa kanilang mga pag-uugali at sa kanilang pagtatrato kay Janet, na parang mga dyosa.

Ilan sa mga kahirapan sa pagsulat ng kuwentong ito ay ang consistency sa paggamit ng “mestisong Filipino” – sa tamang paghalu-halo ng Ingles at Filipino – pati na rin sa paggawa ng mga karakter at sa pagsulat ng kanilang mga linya, na pawang dapat makatotohanan at believable.

Mga Dyosa ng Bahay: The Story

“Punyeta Janet! Paano mo ba nilalabhan ang mga bra’t panty ng lola mo?!”

“Janet! Magwalis ka nga doon sa hardin!”

“Janeeeeetttt! Bilisan mo nga ‘yung pagtitimpla ng kape para sa Lola Carmen mo! My God, kung ako ang pagtitimplahan mo, ay aba, kanina pa kita pinagsigawan!”

Buong umagang sinira ng matinis na boses ni Nanay Sonia ang katahimikan ng aming sabdibisyon. Ay, oo nga pala, araw-araw nitong sinisira ang katahimikan ng sabdibisyon! Hindi lang araw-araw, 24/7 pa! Ganyan na nga kasi ang nangyayari sa pag-iisip at pag-uugali ng mga golden girls – masyadong mapag-amu-amuhan, madaling mainip, palagi na lamang nagagalit. Kahit pinakamaliit na tulo ng tubig sa sahig ay pinapagalitan ako. Gaya ng sinabi ko, magiging golden girl na kasi siya sa Sabado. Kung baga, fifty years old na siya. Fifty and fabulous, ika nga.

Hayan na naman: Pinagalitan na naman ako. Kahapon, sinabi niyang sobrang bilis ang paggamit ko ng kutsara sa pagtitimpla – ngayon nama’y sobrang bagal? Baka mas mabuti pang siya na lang ang magtitimpla – oo nga pala, magiging golden girl na kaya feeling donya at reyna ng buong Pilipinas si Nanay. Siguro pati yung mga tutubi sa hardin ay maaawa na sa akin at tatanungin ako kung ako ba’y si Cinderella. Parang si Cinderella kaya ang itsura ko: naka-kortong asul, sleeveless na pambahay na may ngumingiting itsura ni Mickey Mouse sa harapan, naka-ponytail ang buhok, at nakatsinelas. Kulang na lang, kausapin ako ng mga daga.

Pero wala namang daga sa bahay. All thanks to Lola Carmen. Si Lola kasi, masyadong neat-freak. Dapat yung mga baso sa kusina, lahat ay nakalagay sa ikawalong aparador sa kanan ng microwave oven. Dapat ang mga damit niya’y lahat nakaayos sa aparador ayon sa kulay – pinakakaliwa ang mga kulay pula, tapos orange, tapos yellow…in short, ayos-rainbow. Dapat lahat ng mga pinto’y nakasara at lahat naman ng mga bintana’y nakabukas (may screen kasi ang bawat bintana sa bahay). Walang kalat sa mga sahig, walang gamit na nakalagay sa kung saan-saan lang.

Hay naku, pakiramdam ko nga minsa’y parang preso ako dito sa tinirtirhan ko. Namatay na kasi ang mga magulang ko. Tatlong taong gulang pa lamang ako nung sumabog ang eroplanong sinasakyan nila sa gitna ng himpapawid. Ang mga sunog at sabog na mga katawan nila’y nahulog sa isang bundok sa Luzon, at ako nama’y tuloy na nahulog sa bahay ng aking sosyalerang lola at senyoritang tita na ngayo’y tinatawag ko nang ‘nanay.’

Pero kahit na simputi na ng Datu Puti Vinegar ang buhok ni Lola at singkintab naman ng ginto yung kay Nanay (you know naman, palaging nagpapa-parlor), sinikap pa rin nilang paaralin ako sa isang pribadong paaralan sa loob ng aming sabdibisyon. Simula nang ako’y itinapon ng mga winds of fate sa labas ng kanilang pintuan, nagpakasakit talaga sila nang bonggang-bongga para lamang na ako’y mapalaki bilang isang prinsesang Cinderella. Bakasyon ngayon, kung kaya’t nandito ako palagi sa bahay at tumutulong kay Nanay sa paglilinis, paglalaba, pagluluto, pagseserbisyo sa lola, at kung anu-ano pang mga gawaing-bahay.

“Ano ba?! Hihintayin mo pa bang six feet below the ground na ako at saka lumabas diyan sa kusina?! Sabi ngang bilisan mo e!”

“Opo nay, parating na ho…”

Hayan, tuloy na napasigaw ulit yung nanay mula sa sala, kung saan nanonood siya ng pinakapaborito niyang noontime TV show – Pilipinas, Game KNB? (Crush ata nito si Papa Edu e.) Dahan-dahan akong lumabas mula sa kusina patungong kuwarto ni Lola. Napadaan ako sa sala at nakita kong halos nakaratay na ang would-be-golden-girl ng bahay sa sopa, ala-Cleopatra. Mula sa TV screen, umikot ang kanyang mga mata hanggang sa nakarating ang mga bolang kristal sa aking mukha.

“O ano? Manonood ka rin ba kay Papa– ng Game KNB?! Sige na, punta ka na doon sa kuwarto ng lola. Baka mamaya’y nakauwi na ang kuya mo mula sa States at hindi pa rin natanggap ng lola mo ang kape niya!”

Jackpot! Muntik ko na ngang makalimutan! Darating pala ang kuya – well, technically, pinsan ko – mula sa Estados Unidos. Mamayang takipsilim daw makakarating sa bahay. Kung may mas malaking kabonggahan pa itong pamilya ko, e di si kuya na yun.

Charing darling kasi siya. Biruin mo, yung pangalan niyang Eric John, ginawang Erika Joanne! Kung ako ang tatanungin mo, napakasayang talaga ng kuya ko – matalino (Magna Cum Laude sa Nursing mula sa UP), macho gwapito (ala-Brad Pitt ang katawan), at napaka-gentleman pa. Ideal boyfriend nga, kaso lang, mas ginustong bansagang ideal girlfriend – at girlfriend nga ang nangyari sa kanya! Sa kanyang pinagtatrabahuhan bilang isang nars sa New York, nahanap niya raw last year ang sinasabi niyang “ideal boyfriend” niya - isang kapwa nars na nagngangalang Marc Anthony pero mas ginustong makilala bilang si Marie Antoinette. Teka lang, gusto rin ba nitong mapugutan ng ulo sa huli?

Binuksan ko ang pintuan ng kuwarto ni Lola, pero bago ako makapasok, narinig ko na kaagad ang kanyang kokak.

“Dzanit, nanjaan na ba ang kapi ku? Ay naku bata ka, ‘nina pa ko naghehentay dito sa umba-umba sa iyo. Halika nga.”

Lumapit ako sa rocking chair ng lola at dahan-dahang inilagay sa kanyang nakaunat na kamay ang tasa ng kape. Lalabas na sana ako nang biglang kumokak siya ulit.

“Nakarating na ba ang koya mo?”

“Mamaya pa ho, siguro mga six o’clock pa.”

“Ah… at seno nga ang kasama nun? Yung… yung girlpren raw? Si Maria Antonia…? Si…”

“Marie Antoinette ho... O pwede namang Marc Anthony – pumili lang kayo.”

Pero nahalata ko na ring hindi na nakikinig sa akin ang matanda. Sabi nga ng nanay, basta may kape lang, mabubuhay na talaga itong nerbyosang lola ko. (Eh, nasaan naman ang logic diyan?) Lumabas ako ng kuwarto nang biglang may sumigaw.

“Bobooooooooo! Pinakamataas na bundok sa Pilipinas, Mt Eberes? Hay naku, Papa Edu, kung bakit pa kasi yung mga ganyang klaseng kontestant pa ang pinipili ninyo e! Pero ang gwapo mo pa rin ha, in fairness...”

Hay naku, denial stage pa ata ito. Buong hapon akong tumulong sa nanay (pagkatapos ng Game KNB, of course) sa pagluluto at paghahanda ng isang bongga-bonggang hapunan para sa dalawang parating na mga Amerikana. Kare-kare, tinola, litsong manok (Sonia style), buko pandan, valenciana, palabok… hmmm, magugustuhan kaya ng mga Americanized na tiyan ang mga handa namin?

Simbilis ng pagtitimpla ko ng kape (ayon sa standards ng nanay) ang paglipad ng oras. 4. 5. 6. 6:10. 6:15. 6:30. 6… Ding dong! Nariyan na! Nasa kuwarto pa akong nag-aayos ng buhok, pero feel na feel ko na ang charming at feminine presence ng magsyotang bading sa labas. Pabilisan akong lumabas ng kuwarto at nanaog papuntang sala, just in time lang para salubungin ang mga bagong dating. Dalawang sexing naka-pink ang pumasok ng bahay, dala-dala ang kanilang pink na mga maleta, bag, at kariton, at pawang nakasuot ng kulay pink na mga dekwelyong body-fit. Kitang-kita ko nga yung mga… uh, labi ng bibiron nila.

“Janet! My God, is that you?! Big girl ka na talaga! Kiss sister nga, kiss sister!” ang sigaw ng kuya na papalapit sa’king nagsesenyas ang bibig na halikan siya. Tumingin lang sa’min ang girlpren niya (nagseselos ata), saka nagkunwaring umubo.

“Ooops, oo nga pala. Everyone – Mommy, Lola, Janet – meet my darling, my one and only Marie! She’s the one that I’ve been telling you all about. You know, the beautiful angel that came my way during the strangest of times at the hospital. And we’ve been inseparable ever since!”

“Oi iha, ets su wanderpul to ab yu ear ha! Yur biri wilcam ear en our haus. Sana you wel injoy yur stay en da Pelipins!” ika ng lola kay Marie gamit ang papa-impress na Ingles niya. Basi sa nakataas na mga kilay ng Amerikana, hindi ata nakapasa ang Ingleserang matandang probinsiya.

“Ah… Erik, halika nga sa kusina at ihanda na natin ang hapunan… Tayo na rin, nay,” alok ni Nanay Sonia. Naiwan ako tuloy sa gitna ng sala na hinding-hindi alam kung ano ang gagawin ni sasabihin sa naiwang bading. Pero as of that moment, hindi ko naman talaga kailangang isipin pa kung ano ang sasabihin.

“So… soooo… You’re the Janet that I’ve always heard about… Your brother’s told me all about you…” ang sabi niya sa akin.

“Aaah… yes… I’m –”

“Hush! I’m not done yet. I just want to tell you this: Your princess days are over! O. V. E. R. Over! You may look like an angel, but let me tell you this: You’re not! Get it, crap?!”

O, e ano naman ang ginawa ko sa kanya?! Malditang Charing! Akala niya siguro’y maaapi-api niya lamang ako gamit ang gayspeak-English niya!

“Uh… and… what did I do to you again–”

“I don’t speak to adopted little fools!”

Tumalikod siya kaagad at lumabas ng sala. Tumayo lang akong nakabukas ang bunganga. Aha, so ganyan pala ang Marie Antoinette na ito. Buti nga, at alam ko na ngayon. In fact, talagang mabuting-mabuti na maaga pa lamang ay inilabas na ng plastik at mukhang-perang bading na yun ang tunay na kulay. At tinawag pa akong adopted little fool! Hmph, sige, titingnan natin kung sino ang magiging adopted little fool sa susunod na oras!

Palibot kaming nakaupo sa hapag-kainan (pabilog kasi ang hugis): ako, si Nanay sa kanan, ang hampaslupang Marie Antoinette ay nakaharap sa akin, si Kuya sa kanan niya, at si Lola naman sa aking kaliwa. Ang sarap talaga ng litsong manok, lalo na kapag iniimagine kong ang bading na yun ang manok na kinakain ko.

Habang nagkakarera sina Nanay, Lola, at Kuya sa paglalamon ng kare-kare, ako nama’y taimtim na hinahati ang paa ng manok sa aking plato. Halos hindi na kumakain ang bruha sa harapan ko na mukhang lumilipad ang pag-iisip sa tuktok ng Mayon. Kulay pula pala sa mga dulo ang maikli at naka-gel niyang buhok. Ang mga mata niya nama’y kulay asul (parang mga pekeng brilyante) pero ang mukha niya’y napapalibutan ng iba’t ibang uri ng tigyawat – maliliit na bagong silang, matured na halos sasabog na, at mga sabog na na nabubuhay pa bilang mga facial craters. Feeling prinsesa, pero looking gaga nga pala.

“Ikskyus mee Marie, way yur nat iting? Yu dun layk da pood?” ang masayahing tanong ng lola na kakatapos lamang lamunin ang isang hiwa ng patatas.

“No, it’s not that… It’sjustthatthefoodissimplyhideous… ahahahaha!” ang patawang sagot ng bruha.

Akala niya pala’y walang nakakaintindi ng mabilis na pananalita ng Ingles (si Kuya kasi busy pa sa tinola)… pero meron! Ako. The food is simply hideous. Bah, parang may ahas yata sa loob ng bahay – isang ahas na ang pagmumukha’y nilulunod na ng mga tigyawat. Hindi lang pala ako ang kinukontra at nililibak ng anacondang ito, pati na rin si Lola. At paano naman kokontrahin ng isang tao ang lola kung hindi niya kinukontra yung nanay? Ngayon ko lang na-realize na desperadong-desperado na pala si Kuya na makahanap ng syota noon – kung kaya’t nag-yes kaagad sa demonyang ito. Sige, simulan na natin ang World War III.

“… What Marie?! Did you just say that the food is hideous?! My goodness, no one says that to Lola!” ang sabi ko, gamit ang aking pinaka-horrified-at-mortified expression. Akala ko’y successful na ang melodrama ko nang makita ko ang nakasimangot at parang bumubukal na mukha ng Amerikana, nang biglang sumulpot si Kuya sa script.

“Janet! What are you saying ba?! Stop talking like that ha!” sabi ng kuya.

“Oo nga Janet, magbehave ka nga diyan,” dugtong ng nanay.

“Anu?... Anu ba pinag-aawayan nyu?” tanong naman ng lola. (Alzheimer’s ba ito?)

“Oh no, maybe Janet’s simply too tired… Silly people, come with me darling, let’s go upstairs and I’ll give you a massage!” ang plastik na anyaya ng bading.

Tumingin ang mga kapamilya ko sa akin at napilitan na lamang akong sumama sa bading papuntang… giyera! Heto na pala ang golden opportunity ko! Sige, gusto mong sumama ako sa iyo? Okaaaay, let’s go to war! Darna!

Pagdating ko sa second floor, naghihintay na ang bruha sa pintuan ng kuwarto (?) niya. Pumasok ako at sinara niya ang pintuan. Amoy Victoria’s Secret at demonya ang kuwarto.

“Let’s get things all started and clear, shall we?” ang sabi niya sa akin. Umupo lamang ako sa kama at tiningnan ang mga tigyawat niya sa ilong.

“HOW DARE YOU TRY TO SABOTAGE ME, YOU FOOL?! You think you can get away with all your princess-siness and all that “koya-koya” brouhaha?! I don’t think so! Listen to me brat: You are nothing but an adopted little fool!”

Aba, grabe palang mapikon ‘tong dyosa na ‘to! At pa-sabotage-sabotage pa! Tumingin siya sa akin at hinintay ang aking reaksyon. Ngumiti lamang ako.

“Fine! FINE! That’s all you can do?! Is that it?! That filthy ugly smile?! Well then, I suggest you smile all you want right now, because the moment I get to tell that brother of yours how rude you’ve been to me, we shall see! We shall see indeed, how your… princess-siness will help!”

Nilait ko lamang siya ng, “Oh, and I suppose my brother’s just gonna listen to what you’ll spit on his face?”

“Oh, I almost forgot – and thank you for reminding me! That brother of yours? HE’S AS BIG A PIECE OF CRAP AS YOU ARE! An airhead windbag who cares nothing less about patients than about his own blissful stolen virginity! That’s right! That’s your idiot of a brother! And you can smile all you want, no one’s gonna tell him how I hate him! You see, HE THINKS I’M SO OVER AND UNDER HIM! But no – I don’t like a single piece of her damned damsel-ness! And he doesn’t know a thing! He’s a fool! A moron! And I say this: Damn you! Damn him! DAMN THAT DEAF GRANDMOTHER OF YOURS!”

Hindi alam ng bruha na sinabihan ko ang kuya na sumama sa akin sa kuwarto para magkaroon kami raw ng sister-sister bonding time. Jackpot! Habang nagmomonologo ang bading sa harapan ko, biglang bumukas ang pinto. Lumitaw ang parang mamatay-ng-taong itsura ni Kuya sa pintuan.

“So… soooo… Very good… Very good indeed. Janet, go. To. Your. Room,” sabi ni Kuya. “As for you…”

Pero hindi ko na pinatapos ang pakikinig sa drama. Paglabas ko ng kuwarto, naroon din pala sina Lola’t Nanay. Apparently, tinawag din sila ni Kuya.

Kinabukasan, gumising ako na parang nasa kalangitan. Pinuntahan ko kaagad ang scene of the crime kagabi. Pagbukas ko ng pinto, wala nang ni isang kaluluwa ang naroon, maliban na lamang sa isang unan na parang natutulog sa sahig pagkatapos ng isang mahabang gabi. Nanaog ako sa kusina at naroon ang lola’t nanay na kinu-comfort ang humahagulgol na kuya. Mukhang buong magdamag hindi natulog ang tatlong babae.

“I gave him my life! I GAVE HIM EVERYTHING! And… And all this time… Styrofoam lang pala ang kasama ko!” ang paiyak na sigaw ni Kuya. Nakita nila akong nakatayo sa tabi ng rep at sinabihang umupo kasama sila.

“Janet… Janet… Thank you… So. Much,” sabi ni Kuya.

Break na sila. Officially. At opisyal na ring wala na akong karelasyong galing impyerno. Buong gabi pala silang nagsigawan at naghampasan ng unan sa harapan nina Nanay at Lola. Sa huli, tinawag ni Marie si Lola na isang “old b. i. t. c. h.” at yun na ang nagbigay ng sentensya sa bading. Pinaalis ng tatlo si Marie Antoinette at sinigurado pang naka-seat-belt ito sa loob ng isang taxi papuntang airport, dala-dala ang kanyang pink na maleta.

Dumating ang Sabado at kumain kaming apat sa isang engrandeng Chinese restaurant sa Malate. Fifty na si Nanay Sonia. Certified golden girl na. Si Kuya naman, nagbakasyon pa nang isang buwan bago bumalik sa States. Narinig ko sa isang telebabad nila nina Nanay na may nahanap na raw siyang bago roon – isang big-time na titser. Ako naman, patuloy pa rin ang kabonggahan, at patuloy pa rin ang pagseserbisyo at pagtitimpla ng kape para sa lola.

Well, as they say, life goes on. Hay…

Opo Lola, parating na ho yung kape ninyo.

END

Sunday, December 14, 2008

First Blood

The hour is upon you, and so I draw first blood. I begin with Rayda.

She’s just a simple girl – you know, tasteless, outmoded fashion sense, and burnt-looking auburn hair that resembles horse mane. We can’t exactly blame her for her lack of taste – or her wealth in distaste – seeing as she comes from a planet of her own, one that's probably twice as ravaged by global warming.

Now aside from her daily fashion faux pas and what all of us have decided is a rebonding disaster, what really puts her head on top of our list is her attitude towards other people: sarcasm dripping all over her bony figure, and a personality like poisoned honey, to borrow from Rowling.

In her mission to ‘achieve excellence’, and because she thinks she has Ivy League intelligence and dares stick that delusion up every ass she sees, her vertebrae have become totally smashed, that she no longer has any motor and sensory control over her interpersonal relations.

I liken her to a hermit crab; in layman’s terminology (which she may actually deem mediocre and worthless), may sariling mundo. Like Rowling's Slughorn, who only surrounds himself with famous and/or affluent students, Rayda establishes human contact only with the "intelligent ones."

When she talks, it's through sarcastic neighs. She may look like a teacher, but her attitude is anything but. Puke now.

Friday, December 12, 2008

A Friday Reeking of Smegma

Today, Dec 12, 2008 (Friday), we majestically and effectively proved that trying-hard copycats (a.k.a. ang mga dunot nga Starapples) never win – and will never win, if the case continues. Mga wala kamu huya! Duh, as if it wasn’t obvious nga kung wala niyo kami nakita gablending kag gadance-whatever, wala man ang mga ina nagsulod sa mga sunog niyo nga utok! Hmph! Lesson learned: Stars are stars, and apples are apples, but the two will never mix. Mga smegma gid ah!

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Last week, we went to Ajuy. First to Progreso Falls. Then to Marbuena Island. Sipsy told us that the latter would be somewhat like a deserted isle in the middle of the raging sea. But that’s not exactly the best part, and neither is the fact that Eli was the slowest among us all (not me, no!) in stream-walking and mud-traipsing. It was the slip of the demi-goddess a.k.a. ang pagdanlog ni Sir Sipacio kag ang paghaplak sang buli ya sa lutak. Man, the moment sticks to my memory like crystalline film! One, two, three, haplak!

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Over the next few entries, I will be writing about my dear school and its dearest inhabitants. So, abangan!

Sunday, November 30, 2008

Island-Hopping

I went to Bacolod last week for my VOY District Competition. I left Iloilo Friday afternoon, had VOY Saturday a.m. and returned home at noon for Saturday afternoon’s PMO Area.

The Voyage


- I sat beside Mr. Jeffron-Saffron, the Ateneo guy. He was sooo weird. This is how he introduced himself: Yo… you know, Nina always talks about you… she’s says you’re weird, but I’m used to it… I’M WEIRD TOO.

- Tropic Thunder was the inflight enernaiment. When Mr. Saffron figured out that it was the one being shown, he was like, “Oh yeah, oh yeah!!!” like a child finally realizing that Mommy’s got ice cream for him. All the while, he was laughing out loud – ALONE.

- The sea started getting grumpy. The boat tossed and turned like a nightmare, and I saw Mr. Saffron waving and twirling his right hand and fingers to the rhythm of the waves.

The Afternoon

- Arrived at the O Hotel after a sordid ride with Lagon and Saffron beside me. We got our rooms, went to our rooms, and Mr. Pistachio stayed in ours for a few minutes because his was still being cleaned. He sat on our sofaee like a princess while czhit-czhattin with ma mommah.

- We went to Virgie’s first. Walked from the hotel since it’s only as far as Yangkee to Alan’s. People were secretly laughing at the dyosa’s wiggling butt.

- We went to Robinsons. We ate at Calea. Sip and I unknowingly exchanged cakes. When paying time came, he even asked, “Miss, pwede credit card?” Big time talaga!

- We went grocery-ing. Sip talked about how he would even come to Bacolod if there’s a sale since it’s all sooo good. Man, daming pera kaya! He bought all his toiletries (Ax, a sossy toothpaste, a sossy toothbrush, etc). We went back to the hotel.


Twilight

- Kano sugatted us. We rode a car. They talked about Huasiong. Then about Tiongsan. Then about gayhood. I thought Sipsy cringed a bit there.

- We went to SM. We libotted the stupid SM. Nothing eventful much.


The Horrid Dinner

- We went to Kansei (?) for a Japanese dinner. Upon arriving, Herman said to me, “Oh Vincen, we were just talking about you.” Damn him. And I replied, “Oh it’s okay sir, I didn’t trip.” Slow brain of his. And a funnily stupid mouth he’s got.

- The doctor guy, the Roxas people, and the rest of the gang started toasting me and asking me all sorts of stupid questions like “Oh so what was you’re question in the nationals?” Duh.

- The doctor guy and mamita chatted the night away. No one bothered to have a one-on-one tete-a-tete with sipsy. Poor her.

- When San Mig Light rounds came, salvation also came. We left with the first batch (Dipolog guys) and upon exiting the resto, Sipsy cried, “Free at last, free! Thank God Almighty, we are free!”


The Night

- We heard a gunshot.

- Sipsy staged a concert in his room, singing “Family” from
Dreamgirls.

Contest Day

- The USLS duo was like our meet-and-greet staff. Nice people.

- Hated the topic: No one really knows what he can do until he tries. Managed to pull off a third place with much ek-ek.

- St. John’s is a beautiful school. Huasiong is envious.


PMO

- Zhuan Gi was like so frantic. He called me when I was on the boat, upon arriving in Iloilo, and on the car to siguradofy that I was actually on my way to UP.

- Upon arriving, he was waiting for me at the main bldg with Sir Roge. He told me, “Ikaw na lang pag-asa namun ha.” Duh, then why bother with the rest. Stupid!

- PMO was deadly.


Eli’s birthday

- Fun.

- The Julie Gang bought Eli a shirt that's the exact style as my Ateneo shirt. Oh well…

- Walked to Shakey’s to meet my ginhikanan.

Sunday, November 16, 2008

Genesis

- For Ma’am Sybil, and Feliza’s “hymenic” poem -

The passage narrows
Light fades behind twilight’s clouds
Starlight from a distance

Stuffed by flesh and fancy
All worries hurled to
The careless winds of fantasy
Pain succumbs beneath
Undying realities and the
Burdens of the troubled mind

Sensing shadows fleet
Across hollow spaces
Eclipsed perverted thoughts
And luminous visions
Of dancing green angels

Fireflies flicker
The night closes in
As well as the flames

Monday, November 10, 2008

The Popular Song

For the third grading period, one of our projects in Physics class with the divine and elfin Ms. Emelou Lacanaria is to compose a song about Physics--anything goes. My song is based on a solo from Wicked, the 2003 hit musical by Stephen Schwartz: "Popular," sung by Glinda the Good to Elphaba (the Wicked Witch of the West) as a sort of self-adoration cum friendship code. Here’s my version – and it's only about a third of the real song.

*     *     *     *     *

Whenever she sees Physics rejected and denied,
And let’s face it, it does get rejected and denied,
My teacher's heart tends to start to bleed.
Now I’m starting on a makeover and simply have to take over
The handling of the Physics class you need.
And even if, in case,
It’s the toughest case I have to face,
Don’t worry, I’m determined to succeed.
Follow my lead, and yes, indeed, it will be...

Popular!
Physics’s gonna be pop-pu-u-lar!
It’s all about quantities, about entities, about electricity,
About stability and velocity.
Wait and see, and follow me, shout out:

Popular!
Physics’s gonna be pop-pu-u-lar!
It’s all about gravity, about energy, about relativity.
So let’s start, and learn Physics all the way we go!

Don’t be astounded by mechanics and dynamics.
Think of motion in the study of kinematics.
Now that I’m teaching you essential Physics,
You’re growing wiser, really, really wiser,
Follow me in shouting out:
Popular!
Physics’s gonna be pop-pu-u-lar!
It’s all about gravity, about energy, about relativity.
So just start, and learn Physics all the way you go!

Sunday, November 9, 2008

Ooops - Wrong Car!

Donna and I catapulted ourselves to the Hall of Shame last night.

It was around 6:45, and she'd just finished her Filipino Photojournalism contest. We were about to leave the contest hall when suddenly – poof! – the lights went out. It was as dark as night could ever be.

We found our way out into the main driveway, walking and walking, Crown Ballroom to our right and the parking area to the left.

“Look, that’s them; it’s the school van!” I said in vernacular to Donna.

She followed me as we made our way to said van. There was Ma’am Sybil upfront, the back of her head towards us. Beside her was someone who looked like… yes, Nong Isko! How nice of them to have brought our things to the car.

Donna proceeded to enter the van; the door was open, and some of the guys were chitchatting. I, on the other hand, positioned myself in front of Ma’am Sybil. Let me attempt to surprise her, I thought. I began tapping the windshield in front of our teacher.

Then, I saw the driver and realized it wasn’t Nong Isko.

Ma’am Sybil turned around – and it wasn’t her, either.

Shit.

A fraction of a moment later, Donna came out of the car with a look of extreme shock on her face.

Slowly, we inched away from the car.

A No-brainer RSPC

I… am… frustrated.

Okay, I won. Yeah, we all sort of know that. And you’re correct down to the tiniest drop of rainbowish smile - I’m happy.

But I’m so depressed right now. I can’t understand how we could’ve gone from 7 to ugh. Maybe it's because I've always looked at this year's as the best batch The Chain has ever had.

Eli's was plain IDIOTIC. Bea’s headline was all long and incorrect. The rest, I can't even begin to explain.

So I’m going to Naga alone… great.

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

The Subtlety of My Wickedness

Something has changed within me.
Something is not the same.
I’m through with playing by
The rules of someone else’s game.

- "Defying Gravity," Wicked


Do I look like an adorable little angel with fluffy wings? Believe me, you’re not seeing some apocalyptic vision. And yes, the shining golden halo on my head isn’t some fiery comet that’s about to hit your pimply face.

The thing is, the angel’s just a personality.

On the contrary, I can also be a little wicked.

Okay, I can be really wicked.

* A wolf howls in the distance *

Fine, so I am pretty much a green evil monster.

But I believe wickedness is relative. I mean, come one, a guy spills boiling hot coffee all over your designer underwear and he’s not evil for doing that?

Fyi, Jarby’s wickedness is only reserved for equally wicked creatures and instances. Here's a short list.

1. Bratty Little Kids

These are the kids – say, grade one pupils – who know and can utter with adult confidence more swear words than I. Beneath their impish facades are ram-like monsters ready to pounce on unsuspecting non-parents, then transform back into immature stinky dummies when real parents do come along.

They make me wanna cry out to the whole uncaring world: What’s wrong with the children?! Man, at that age, people my age weren’t even capable of saying gaga and gago. Now here's a new breed of mutants who middle-finger strangers just for the heck of it!

Once, I was doing my hokbu rounds and then suddenly, this stupid first grader bumps into me. I said, “Slowly, don’t run.” Know what she said? Gago ka, gusto mo ma-away?!

Where are the moms and dads of these brats? Here are a few words: Your children stink! They ought to be roasted… like chicken.

2. Bratty Chain Staffers Who Don’t Respect The Deadline

Yes, let's all make the editor-in-chief wait for your articles, because who cares about the deadline anyway? One of you even sent me an e-mail that’s sufficient ground for electrocution.

No, my two female readers, you don’t seem to be part of this group.

3. Unmindful Sidewalkers

When you’re walking down the sidewalk, and then suddenly, this man stops in front of you to check out a couple of peanuts and completely blocking your way, how’d you feel????!!!!

Dancing through life,
Skimming the surface,
Gliding where turf is smoo-ooth.

- "Dancing Through Life," Wicked

Oh, man, I blew my brains off just writing this. So now you see why Jarby can be quite wicked at times. I only reserve my wickedness for wickeds themselves… except for Wicked the Musical.

Who can say if I’ve been
Changed for the better?
But because I knew you,
I have been changed for good.

- "For Good," Wicked

Monday, October 27, 2008

Miles and the Dinosaur (A Stupid Play)

His name is Miles.

And he gave me the one piece of evidence to further solidify my theory that children nowadays are fast replacing Dorothy, Hansel, and Gretel as the world’s biggest brats.

Act 1: When Eli interrupts, it's bound to go...

Scene: Library. Table 2 (middle table) - Me reading book (?), Donna reviewing, Eli watching Donna reviewing. Far end of Table 2 - Michelle and Regine conversing. Table 3 (nearest the aircon) - Hubert doing nothing in particular (?).

Suddenly, idiotic, childish, foul-mouthed, trying-hard English blabbering is heard.

Miles (M): What is this… yeah, it looks stuuupid… yeah stupid… what’s that? Yeah…

Miles’ bro (B): Yeah, it’s a… yeah…

Eli, the interrupter, interrupts the childishness.

Eli (E): Hey kids… what’re you talking about?

M: We’re not talkin’ to yah… shattup, we’re not talkin’ to ya...

E: What did you say?

M: Yeah, shattup, we’re not talkin’ to ya… what’s that… shattup…

Eli talks instead to a very much amused moi.

E: Bati-an mo to? Grabe noh?!

I turn my attention to the brat.

Act 2: Foul words hit the Jarby

Jarby (J): Hey little kiddies, what are you looking at?

M: shattup! We’re not talkin’ to ya... what’s that?…

J: You telling me to shattup kid?!

M: Yeah… shattup, we’re not talkin’ to yah!

J: Well you’ve got a pretty nasty mouth for a little kid… Is "shattup" the only thing you know how to say?

Miles stands up and walks over to stand in front of me.

M: You want me to kick your ass?! (I stand to my full, glorious height)… No, shattup, we’re not talkin’ to yah!

Act 3: Move over, Stephenie Meyer!

M: Oooh… Look at that, it’s a snake… and a… a crocodile (it’s actually a monitor lizard)!

J: No it’s not! That’s a lizard!

M: It’s a crocodile!

J: It’s a lizard!!!

M: It’s a… Oh yeah, it’s a lizard!... (to his bro) Look at its teeth! They're so sharp!

B: Like a vampire’s!

M: What’s a vampire? –

J: Well, a vampire’s got really sharp teeth… It eats people and drinks people’s blood… They live in coffins in the underground part of the city and only come out at night… That’s why you see all those news on TV of people being found dead in the middle of the street at night!

Miles is totally amused, his eyes bulging with confused interest.

Act 4: The Imaginarium of Dr. Dinosaur

A really crazy, evil, and notorious but nonetheless benign idea strikes me. I go to the shelves and take out a Health (?) book.

J: OH LOOK, IT’S A DINOSAUR!!!!

M: (hurrying over to my side to see the “dinosaur”) Where, where?!

J: (closes the book) Ooops! I lost it… I think it’s somewhere in the middle… go look for it yourself…(hands the book over to those creepazoidal hands)

Donna (D): (to Miles) Look for it page by page!

Silent evil laughter.

Epilogue

In the end, we won. The kid learned his lesson.

We’re friends now, actually. He knows me by face and proudly told me during the opening of Chinese Week that his daddy’s “English,” not British, not the tiniest bit American.

Saturday, October 11, 2008

The Frog Prince, Huasiong version

Yesterday, soon-to-be alma mater (read: MAY-ter) wasted one school day, all for a useless, all-for-profit activity that is the BSP-GSP Investiture brouhaha.

It’s such a waste of time, I know, but I’m not gonna squander my blog space writing about the entire initiation stupidity.

IT’S ALL FOR PROFIT. Get it?

Anyway, it was already after the investiture and CAT instruction (we had CAT yesterday since the worthless BSP-GSP perpolz requested for our “help”).

There was this kid who was holding an empty Pillows wrapper-container-whatever.

The thing is, the wrapper-container-whatever was bulging like a balloon.

So I approached the kid, together with my angels, and asked him what it contained. He opened the wrapper-container-whatever and to my amazement-horror-surprise, inside were some ten unfortunate froggies of different sizes!

It was super duper cool!!!

Okay, so it’s totally ewww, also.

So there we were, watching the kid as he took the froggies out one by one by the leg and threw them on a puddle beside the driveway. By that time, people had started swarming all over us. He took one froggy, then another, then another.

Then, he stoned one of the froggies.

It died. Afterwards, Donna played with it with a twig.

The boy ran across the driveway, took out the biggest of the froggies (the queen mother or something), waved it at us from the distance, and sent the unfortunate froggy on a trip to the horizon.

Flying frog! Amazing.

The froggy survived.

He Who Loved "Ahia"

HANGAG KA!

You’re not, I repeat, NOT! such a good Montague. You’re not even the Montague I was hoping for.

Because of your ineptitude and indecisiveness, we are often misled – UNDER YOUR CRAZY LEADERSHIP!!!

What in the name of Albus Dumbledore was the purpose of our training when, as soldiers of this presently rattled world, all we get to do is sit by the benches and watch the marathon competitors fall over and get bruised???

Oftentimes, you make supposedly funny jokes, but frankly, they’re corny… racist even.

If we don’t do something, you say we have not a single drop of initiative in our blood. If we do something, you say it’s all wrong. What do you really want from us?!

You know, the problem is that you rarely come to the castle. Whenever we meet at the Round Table during working days, you’re not there. How can we coordinate and make our battle plans then?

I’m writing this to attack you – not the battalion. This is all for you, my dear Montague. We wanna kill every single Tybalt out there, you understand?! So quit swooning over imaginary Juliets and straighten your head!

P.S. Our mansion needs to be renovated!

Monday, October 6, 2008

Dear Miss Happy

Who did you think you were playing at???

Who the heck did you think you were playing at??!!

Were you even aware that you were wasting our time trying to ameliorate the hapless case of those six barely knowledgeable damsels in distress who still don’t know how to do patakda??!!

You wanted us to teach your little vixens how to march… and yet, you ended up teaching them yourself! How surprising! Were you even sane enough to realize that we were standing there utterly dry and useless??!!

Great, darling, just plain g-r-e-a-t!!!

Man, you were – are – c-r-a-z-y!! No wonder siomai used to despise you so much (and I bet she still does).

Okay, for the last time: WE DO NOT DO GIRL SCOUT STUFF!!!

I do hope Bravo’s gonna be in his right mind tomorrow and do something better.

Sunday, October 5, 2008

HSWk'08

Sooo…

September…

Hmmm…

*cicada sounds*

Hwatz happened last Septembuh…?

*more cicada sounds*

Oh yeah, High School Week!

Hwa Siong culture dictates that there are only six specific groups of days that a high school student may look forward to:

1. SC Election Week – campaign, grand rally, the vote
2. High School Week
3. Intramurals (a.k.a. the informal semestral break)
4. Chinese Week (this one’s more of a yehey-no-class case)
5. Christmas Chorale mania
6. Foundation Week

The first one’s done and over with, and we were VERY BEST, pardon the pun.

So here are some points-to-remember to remember:

* Congratulations to Juday!!! I’m sooo proud of ya honey! You. Were. Terrific.

* Five score years ago vs. … dunno, don’t care? I say, five score years ago!!!

* Ms. Spinos, you ought to be fired!! How dare you, you rotten windbag??!! You dare taint the faces of my children with loser’s paint??!! Huh, you ruthless piece of c***!!!! We won, and you damn know it!!! May you live with the memory of having committed such a disgraceful act!!! Live with it, I say, live with it!!!!

* Congratulations to TIFFANY, the real extemporaneous speech winner. No, naval-fleet, I’m not talking about or trying to hit you.

Sign-of-the-cross Joebar, indeed!

Sunday, August 31, 2008

Stupidity

Some people think it’s just an ideal. Ironic, I know. Others turn to psychology for answers, but always forget to look at themselves. And then there are those who know fully well they’re stupid, and still continue to act like… well, stupid people.

Encarta defines stupidity as “lack of intelligence; rashness or thoughtlessness.” To all ye people who still wonder (if it isn’t obvious enough) where I get those synonyms and mot juste thingies for my papers and stuff, the culprit's Encarta, clear? If you answered "unclear," get a copy of that Encarta ’04 installation disc, forcibly break it in half, and swallow each piece.

Going back, I prefer to see stupidity as some sort of disease… like an STD, which does not stand for Stupid Teacher Disease. Imagine all the tiny creepazoids living together as one single gooey greenish mass, bouncing and floating and waiting for that glorious, death-sentence moment that is a chance encounter with a living homo sapiens. Then, when that encounter does come to pass, the gooey mass jumps at the chance to permeate the bloodstream. Before you know it, that big greenish mass has broken into sperm cell-like creatures all swimming towards the brain.

Now think of a world where stupidity does not exist. Impossible, right? As of August 30, 2008, these are some of the things that I find downright stupid:

1. Mall security checks

If I were a terrorist, all I’d have to do is simply put the bomb inside my…um, holiest spot, God forbid. Because all those guards are not even doing their damn jobs! How is merely opening the trunk a security check?!

2. Teenage Smoking

Hey you, smoking teenager! Let's just pour gasoline all over your face. That way, you’d burn faster. We don't need anymore help with air pollution. We don't need you to taint the image of any of your affiliations – school, family, whatever. And seriously, you don't look cool. At all.

Two savage truths. Awareness is key to eliminating stupidity. It’s like raising antibodies in a factory – you need to be prepared for what’s to come. You need to sing the way Scar did in The Lion King!

But maybe stupidity is universal.

Sunday, August 24, 2008

Golden Pen Dialogues

Julie (J): Gina pa ko di gahulat mo. 6:30 pa.

Eli (E): Te kaluoy gali, wala may gasapak simo.

J: Damu guro ya gatulok sakon!

Hmmm, what were those people thinking?

* * * * *

E: (annoying Demi during Student Council get-together-whatever)

Demi (DE): Eli, kabaho simo!!!

E: Gleng, pwede favor, simhuti ko bi…?

God, Eli, manners please… and tact.

* * * * *

E: Hmph! Tungod sa manghod mu ga-perfume na ko adlaw-adlaw, simhuti bala!

Donna (DO): Bah! Maski gaperfume ka baho ka naman nga daan! Aaaah, kaya pala yung sasakyan mo nakalilingin, dahil sa amoy!!!

Evil… just plain evil… but funny.

* * * * *

Let’s not forget my debates with Eli, where I was able to produce countless short-lived, now-forgotten punch lines. Ma’am Sybil, if you would kindly remember…

Reminiscence

The Golden Pen’s now over – my second and last.

I’m just so proud of the children; most of them did surpass my expectations.

Overall, we’re third place.

But taking aside the fact that Ripples and AC are the regular top-twoers, it’s one heck of a conclusion that we are the champion of the… uhm… normal (?) ones.

No, Dragon/s and AC-er/s, if you ever come across this thingy, I don’t intend anything evil, sarcastic, or defaming.

I don’t think I did my best though, what with news being, as Judy would have it, “a bit disconnected,” and sports, copy, and cartoon being disasters. I actually had a really nice idea for the feature, but I guess there is always time for everything.

I’m really, really, superly thankful: first, for the editorial gold; second, for the golden pen; third, for the performances.

Sunday, August 17, 2008

Sleepless in Iloilo

I do think I should have celebrated last night.

Well, yes, perhaps the celebration should have been done the night before. After all, I did make history that night.

Thursday, August 14, 2008 – I slept at around twelve o’clock midnight. That’s 12 A.M., depending on a clock’s level of stupidity. Come to think of it, I don’t even know exactly what time I slept. It wasn’t 12 yet according to the masters bedroom’s clock, yet the second floor stairwell clock said it was a few minutes past midnight; the living room clock registered something like 12:05, while my room’s bore 12:10.

Regardless of the exact time (whoever made the exact time, anyway?), my sleeping that late should have been cause for a household ruckus.

That was the latest I've slept so far in my student life on a school day night. Yehey! Okay, all ye late sleepers/lots-of-work people/sleepless students, you may think this is all so hyperbolic. Go ahead, no one's stopping you from thinking that way - not even moi, though this is my blog, be reminded. Sleeping late will never be a mark of genius!

Did I hurt your feelings there?

Why did I sleep that late anyway?

First, we had this CAT vigil for the wake of a certain someone. It was fun. We did laugh more than a couple of times during our turns in "guarding the dead." It's funny but it's also tactless. I can't imagine what it must have looked like, us laughing beside a coffin housing a neatly dressed corpse.

The wake was also one heck of a fiesta for us officers. We arrived at around 5:45 (everyday since last Friday) after all 22 of us were crammed inside the stupid, worthless, rundown, nausea-inducing school van. Then, we were offered crackers (Hansel), candy (White Rabbit and Dynamite), bread and pastry (JD and Tinapayan goodies), Filipino favorites (alupi), juice (Zesto), soda (bottled ones), and peanuts. While two among our number were probably trying to repress their laughter beside the dead and flowers, we feasted and ate our hearts out at the "flower garden."

Second, I spent two nights wide awake in front of the computer, trying to compose a "wonderful" essay for my Ateneo application as an ACET requirement. I wrote about my guest-speaker experience during last year's B'n'G Week and I do hope I can publish it here pretty soon.

How did I fare in school? I slept during Thursday's Huagi and Physics class.

Saturday, August 16, 2008

Espesyal na Pagtatrato... whatever.

I was late for school yesterday morning.

I had to print out my A.P. few minutes before school because the stupid printer was malfunctioning, and also the equally stupid, virus-infested computer. So what I did was, I tried to estimate the exact time at which I should arrive in school, so that I’d be just in time for second period’s Scoobydoozation and wouldn’t have to laze around outside the room while dear Roger's having his class.

Guess what? My first ever tardiness for the year made the faculty headlines! To my teachers, some pointers:

1. I do not seek special treatment from any of you.

2. You make my being late sound like a mortal sin.

3. I have the right to be late, as does any senior student.

4. By trying to ban me from being late, you were already giving me special treatment.

5. I was late for a legal reason, and someone wouldn’t have been too happy if I wasn’t.

Duh.

Sunday, August 3, 2008

UPCAT

I was told this morning that over 62,000 senior students all over the country applied this year for a chance to hurdle the ever-dreaded-yet-rewarding University of the Philippines College Admission Test. My fingers are crossed, but my first bloetry (blog poetry) waits not Apollo's leave.


Utter the five sacred letters and
Pierce many a mortal heart and soul,
Crushed dreams of golden nights
And the lifeless eyes that follow
The hieroglyphs of daylight.

Upon first sight of the answer sheets
Plagued with boils of bamboo green,
Curses muttered under fearful breaths
And many a sigh cloak living corpses,
Their tomorrows uncertain as ever.

Under the scorching roofs, doves of
Peace lose their olive branches;
Cramped within the stony walls,
Ardent hopes wither as the lovely
Trees of autumn shed their leaves.

Unicorns never before did matter, yet
Pieces and fragments of broken wisdom
Cast shadows throughout the journey:
Another circle blackened, as another is
Thrown to the fiery wasteland of wrongs.

Utopians might say this all matters not,
Pallid-faced and stone-hearted ones also,
Clowns of extravagant festivals too, but
All words matter not, except one only:
The joyful silent cry of an "Accepted."

Unto the dying afternoon they trudged,
Places then never again were the same,
Clueless faces emerge to the setting sun
And tiny wisps of the ever-smoky future
Tell nothing but vague memories.

Friday, August 1, 2008

Discrimination

Today, I'm gonna talk about a very random subject. It's something that really matters in today's sacrilegious generation and it's also one that really interests me.

Now if you've come here to read about the usual thingies, then it's better for you to just leave. But heck, I don't even know if what I'm about to write are the usual thingies.

So, discrimination.

First of all, whoever coined this term? Because I don't cracking like it! Just kidding; whoever you are/were, just leave a comment and I'll build you a monument. And do specify your preferred location for the monument that's never gonna rise. I love the word; don't you just love it?! I mean, just observe the way it twirls in your tongue and how the a in -mination gets the most screen time. See?! There's already discrimination in the word itself, because whenever every Earthling says this word, a is the one being stressed! How come it's not -tion? Or dis-, or -cri-, or even more pathetically, -min-, because it always gets to follow Mr. Stressed?! Elementary science lab class: Therefore, I conclude that discrimination discriminates itself. And also, that the stresses of the Engliiiiish language are the main cause of verbal prejudice.

Now let me share with you the two newest additions to the ever-growing list of... discriminaaaaations: First, we have ID. That's for intellectual discriminaaaaation. Guavish people already know about this. And only Guavish people know about this – well, if you exclude some of my family. So, by faulty reasoning, we can therefore come up with the grandest conclusion that ID has its roots in the realm of Guavish people, a.k.a. the dumpsite that is ICCHS’s senior class, Guava section, room (insert confusing room number here).

Now what is ID all about? If, in a class of thirty-eight students, you get to be singled out most of the time as being the brightest and smartest among the XXXVIII, or worse, among the entire graduating batch, then that’s ID. If you’re always expected to answer every single damned question coming from the speaker-up-front’s mouth, or if you’re always expected to act as a 1st Honors would supposedly act (which is stereotyping), then that’s ID. Get itzzz?!

The second one, which I’ve just… discovered this morning, is Hiligaynon meat discriminaaaaation or HMD. This one is a lesser felony compared to the previous one by probably ten decimal places. That’s because it’s already buried deep down the bulbous veins of Ilonggo culture. For dummies out there (this is also a form of ID), Hiligaynon is what we, the people who are proud to be the inhabitants of Iloilo, commonly speak. And pleeeaaase, if you don’t happen to be Ilonggo, don’t ev-verrr attempt to stereotype Ilonggos or Bisayans, like in those wretched movies, as idiots or people who speak in funny accents. Let’s see you try speaking in Hiligaynon then!!! Maybe you’d sound even worse than a snoring swine!!!

Now, what is chicken meat in Hiligaynon? Manok. Pork? Baboy. Cow, Sheep, Goat, and who-knows-what-else? Karne. Get the general idea?! If you don’t, I suggest you try putting it this way: Grab a pillow and hit your head with it, and see if your head goes itchy-red.

Here’s a disclaimer, or whatever you call it: I’m not actually sure if the information in the preceding paragraph are actually correct and accurate down to the last drop of ink. So if you have any knowledge about those, feel free to tell me about them.

Well now, I do hope you enjoyed your stay!

Friday, July 25, 2008

My Dead Toenails

It all started with lunch at the rundown bistro outside Hacienda del Rio, right across the blasted institution commonly called John-B (whose studentry attempted to wake the entire neighborhood this morning as they romped and talked their way down the street in charcoal paint and weird outfits to their Punta Villa campus).

Technically, it started after lunch. I was watching the replay of A.I. Season 7 Finale, and Archuleta was singing In This Moment (I love that song!). Who would have guessed that Janet Jackson herself would call our blessed abode, and even more stroke-inducing, tell me that I have to go see her that very instant in - where else? - school.

That's just the beginning, and to think that my left little pinky toe was all black and bruised from unintentionally kicking the wall that morning. So there I was, limping my way across streets and sitting inside a jeepney with my feet all stinky and my wounded toe all, uh, stinky.

When i arrived at the blasted place (blasted is our word for the day, by the way), she told me - in the presence of the princess of the damned and the purple reptile - that we were going to have CAT! Well, assuming that you do not know this, we were not supposed to have CAT anymore for this school year! During that moment, and afterwards, all I could think of was something like "Damn, why the heck are they letting this happen?!" So anyway, we had our training for three days... blah, blah... (this topic deserves a separate entry). Now it's what happened after the training that's really the meat of the matter today.

MY BIG TOENAILS DIED.

I do not know how it happened, and why it happened. Do not ask me about it (it's a touchy subject). All I know is that the day we officially became CAT officers, those nails were already dark black and violet and blue with shades of maroon and brown. They were dead, or in the layman's term, ba-og. Okay, so I'll stop describing them here. Take note: Those nails stayed that way for over a month.

That is, until that fateful Friday when I unconsciously slid my left foot backwards and the edge of the slipper hit and forced the right big toenail upwards and open. Didn't exactly open all the way through, but enough to cause considerable pain. A week later, it happened to my other foot.

Now, I'm proud to proclaim that the dead nails are 99% eradicated, except for a few fragments still attached to the skin and which I plan to let a pedicurist remove. It appears that when my nails were injured, the blood that was causing all the discoloration and that's stuck underneath the skin flowed out. Today, I wait for my nails' renaissance.

By the way, I'm not bitter about CAT. I just hate the fact that they decided to resume our training only during the week before school opened. But I'm loving every moment of being an officer. And I'm really looking forward - who among us doesn't - to torturing the blasted, ahem, applicants. Oh dear, it's gonna be a great starapple harvest season (evil Joker laugh).

P.S. The pinky toe's sort of well now... I think...

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Aphrodites

now i'm going to rant about all the frustration, the stupidity, the idiocy, and the embarrassment that two very special aphrodites have been hurling at me these past few wretched, blessed days.

as we all know (though if you ain't related to me or aren't Guavish, you wouldn't), rayda has been quite a headache for the past... at the very least, the past week. what the hell is her problem??? if she wants me to become the omnipotent, omniscient Vencin of her wildest dreams and most rotten imaginations, she's better off pounding her head on the white-washed wall!

what the heck does this weird earthling want me to do? miraculously transform there and then into an uneinsteinish einstein? urgh, it just sucks the way she keeps goading me to play the role of savior. it sucks all the more the way she treats me like i'm some kind of extremely gifted child who deserves to be given unspecial special treatment. why?!

now about the fire-lovin queen of the gods, well that was just plain stupidity, wasn't it dahling?! how big of an idiot are you to just tear the wondrous pages and create a mishmash garbage dump of your own? whoever even gave you the authority to be that moronic?!!

two aphrodites, two stupid queendoms.

Monday, July 21, 2008

The Jester and The Vacuum Boy

I like watching movies.

Holidays, I usually spend watching the Oscar-nominated ones. How's that for culture. But among the many films that I've watched (at my age, I mean), only two screen villains have passed my/the test.

The first one is Javier Bardem in No Country for Old Men. He was really scary, speaking very little throughout the film, creating a very chilling aura. Those eyes were brilliant, and the facial expressions too. And the gadget he used for killing, and the small talk that usually preceded his kills!

The second one is [+] Heath Ledger as the Joker. We watched The Dark Knight last Sunday. What a natural performance! Christopher Lee and Ralph Fiennes did well enough in LOTR and HP but nobody really raved much about them. But now that I've seen Ledger's Joker, I feel sad. Such a loss.

The verdict: Ledger and Bardem should have a grand showdown. First, they attempt to kill each other their characters' ways. Second, they switch roles.

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Turmoil of Thoughts

no, i don't think you were trying to control me. i don't think you were roasting me. i actually thought you were quite nice to do that.

i was on the verge of tears - the reason why i couldn't speak as well as i usually do. you told me to defend myself, but i was so helpless. i was too overwhelmed by the situation, mulling over the info you'd just given me (just as you had guessed).

i don't really talk much in those kinds of situations. i just think you ought to know that i'm not the stereotype you thought or wanted me to be. fine, so "stereotype" may not be the best word for this; just fill it up for me. i usually mull over what someone says before doing anything or saying something back, usually takes me a day to fully digest things.

i'm different from many other people, and i'm proud of it. few creatures choose to be different nowadays. i'm very complicated, but thanks for trying to understand. i never thought you'd go that far, or be that "friendly."

i'll always be thankful for what you did, and for what you've been doing. i'd rather choose to see you as Olympian gifts, if you get my drift. thanks.
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i left my physics book in the chem lab, so i guess this is kind of like historic. smiles!
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madamoiselle identification card was in a bad mood this morning. so was julian, though i doubt she really was. i mean, she's so overly complicated; i guess you can blame aphrodite for that. estero was being... well, just an estero again.

now mind you, these are all fictitious names and they might be pertaining to imaginary pips as well. sayonara.

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

This Araw of Glory

YEEEAAAH!!!


Date: july 15, 2008
Time: around 8:50 p.m.
Mood: disturbed

finally, my very own blog. All the planning in my mind has finally materialized.

now about the name, the world according to jarby. fine, I challenge you: sue me, Lea darhling.

if my writing's disorganized, it's just a reflection of my current state of mind.

so, mark this wonderful day. mark this araw of glory, the day i got bitten by the "blug."