Nomadic Influences.

2006-05-16T04:21:00.000-07:00

This is the last entry of this blog.

I have burned everything,
and he has now ceased to exist.

May these be the last words I write of him,
and the last you will read of me.

____________________________________________________
Kiss me out of desire, babe, and not consolation.
You know it makes me so angry 'cause I know that in time,
I'll only make you cry, this is our last goodbye.

-Jeff Buckley
____________________________________________________

Paano mo hahalikan ang isang bote ng beer?

2006-05-13T05:01:00.000-07:00

Hahalikan mo ang isang bote ng beer
ng may pagsamba;
na ang bawat kilos papalapit dito
ay ang mga sigundong
natitira upang makamit ang sigla
at napipinting kahimlayan.

Hahalikan mo ang isang bote ng beer
ng may pagmamahal;
na ang pagbibilang ng araw ay papalapit
sa muling pagtikim sa kanyang likido,
ang bawat haplos at pagsuporta sa kanyang katawan
ang tagal na hinintay upang siya ay ulit na maaruga.

Ang bote ng beer na kay tagal ninais pagsilbihan
ng aking pagkatao at kamalayan,
ang bote ng beer na kay tagal
ninais yakapin at yapus-yapusin,
ay isa lamang sa libo-libong pinapangarap
suyuin ng aking mga labi;

Ang kanyang mga bulang nililigaw ng hangin
patungo sa dakong himpapawid,
na ang pangarapin ang kanyang pagdampi
sa aking kalamnan ay hindi lubusang matanggap
kahit ng aking mga mata, pisngi, at palad,
na mawala.

Ngunit aanhin ang bote ng beer
na sagaran nang binukbok ng panahon,
ang tansan na tadtad sa kalawang,
at ang nag-aanimo'y kulay lupang nilalaman nito;
ang spirito na tuluyan nang naglaho?

Patuloy ko itong sasambahin
at pilit na pag-aalayan ng sarili
sa isang mundong binalot ko
ng pag-asa para sa kanya;
Ang mundo kung saan ako at ako lamang
ang makakaintindi
kung paano ito aanihin nang mabuti
at muli siyang maipagtataguyod.

----------------------------------------------------------
People try to look for happiness as a means of getting by.
I don't try to find happiness.
I just try to get by.
----------------------------------------------------------

excerpts from Melancholy of the Untitled

The Outline of Our Lives.

2006-04-13T14:56:00.000-07:00

Sunday Grocery Day: I went to the supermarket to stack up my grocery bin, and ended up lost as I've ever been in my entire life. I've been walking around for ten minutes, just passing the aisles where I'm supposed to be buying my stuff, and then I realized that I didn't have any basket or push cart on which I'd put everything in. I was like that the whole time I was there, then I got a call. I had to meet up with a friend in Greenbelt to help her out with her thesis. I passed by the usual hangout and saw more of my friends there. I went home after midnight and fell asleep.

Monday Groggy Time: I woke up at seven in the morning, still wondering why I couldn't get enough sleep. We ate lunch and started building my friend's website and forums. I helped her out until she started defending that night. We all ate dinner after.

Tuesday Whappakers Daytime: I woke up at seven to get my course cards from my elective class and submit my thesis documentation. I thought things were going to be better, but then my sister called overseas. She was crying and she wanted me to get her kids from her husband who couldn't take care of them. I was shocked, and speechless; I had to take care of them, but I just got out of college! It's just one of those days where your life does a 360 without noticing it. I had to make arrangements and preparations, but the one thing I regret most: I knew that with this responsibility, there were a lot of things at stake, and there were a lot of things I had to let go, to take care of my family.

Tuesday Night Citrus: I talked to a couple of people who mattered to decisions I had to take; texted my batchmates about what happened that day, and went out to hang out with friends I haven't seen for awhile; to do things I've never had the freedom to do in a long time. I went home a little tipsy from drinking vodka, ate an early breakfast and went to sleep.

Wednesday Thinking Day: I woke up at seven in the morning, took a bath, woke my friend and by 8am, I was on my way to Makati for a scholarship test to a new multimedia school somewhere near Makati Avenue. I didn't know the school was open only half day and that our course cards were to be given out that morning so I had to rush from Makati to meet up with my classmates and professors. I went back to Makati for another meet.

Thursday Rest Day: I don't know why but still, I woke up at seven in the morning, and went back to sleep, but I kept waking up every thirty minutes so I decided to start archiving more than 300gb files in my computer so that I'd get something done.

I ended up blogging.

There were a lot of things to be done. I have to give complete commitment to my family for emergencies and complete rest (my hemoglobin count not getting any better). I need to be strong alone, and on my own, so I could find myself once again, and help my family. I know it doesn't sound right, but there were a lot of things I've been through, and no matter how much faith you put into those who committed themselves to you, they sometimes tend to walk away, and eventually falter.

I think I've reached a decision, and a plan in my life. It seems blurry, I think it's what they call "post-graduate crisis", if such a term exists. I'm better this way, though, or so I think. I'm willing to make changes that allow me much more freedom and reciprocated commitment earned through friendship and time spent well together...

But I'll never forget the things that made me who I am, or provoked me to be who I was. I've learned a lot from them, and I'll never look back at them with remorse, rather with an understanding that this was how it was supposed to be done, and these were inevitable occurrences of the unexpected.

Please don't hate me for this, as the devoted attachment I've had for you despite my thesis, exhibit, and family responsibilites as a working student for the past months is something I'll treasure because these were times I spent in learning to respect all of you.

"She comes up another time,
and she really really doesn't care,
that I can't keep time or the rhythm straight
'cause it's one thing she don't dare,
and it's alright, I drop the line,
now it's one thing to be free.
Well I never really had a thing for that,
but it's everything I need."
-Neve

Memoirs.

2006-04-01T23:28:00.000-08:00

I earn my own money for my own bills, to pay my f*cking tuition to one of the most expensive schools in the country, and to buy the grocery. For someone at my age, that f*cking says a lot.

I swore to God I will change, and that I will never do anything to insult anyone, to hurt anybody, or to threaten any living being who wants to exist in this human refugee camp we all call earth.

Sometimes, it takes so much energy to do just that. I've had a very violent past, and I think I could handle any pressure, but not physical, growing up with parents who almost beat you up with thick leather belts and thick microphone wires all because they wanted you to learn how to sing, and to act because they wanted you to become one of those child stars. Traumatically, they almost succeeded. Did I mention locking you up with rats crawling on wires just above your head? Geez, all I wanted was a cup of ice cream and a bar of chocolate, but every time I'd try to grab one, they'd punish me because they said it was bad for my artist training.

I guess it's something I have to learn; not to physically fight back when being hit, or just to keep my mouth shut rather than further damage anything anymore, for that matter.

So I'll just cry instead. People think it would be so weak of me, but I don't care. I'd rather they'd think I'm weak than hurt them.

Yes, a natural-born martyr.

Sad, but true.

The saddest part is, no one ever knew I had that kind of a past.

So I visited an exhibit opening tonight (which of course, was required, being an external class activity), went for a tiring walk from Buendia to Edsa, along Chino Roces / Pasong Tamo street, and drank all the beer I could physically succumb to.

Now, this.

YM STATUS: May mga minamahal ako sa buhay. Isa ka na roon, pero ganon talaga eh. Sayang. Wala sana tayong kasing-lupet.

Actually, this is for someone who's really special to me, but this is how I generally feel, so I guess this implies to just about everything right now.

Right, just right. It's as tipsy as I could ever want to get.

Hopefully, when I get sober, out the drain this BS goes as well.

For now, cold water in the shower.

Relivin' the Reggae Vibe and lovin' it...

2006-03-13T04:29:00.000-08:00

It's been years since I last went to a reggae gig. It felt superficial to be dancing to one of them grooves again, but the night ended in depression rather than the ambitioned feeling of relief.

I realized that all the wrong things that I never wanted to happen to me, happened. Not all the extremes, though...mas marami yung sa panlalait. That's why I swore, tonight, I will try not to misjudge anyone anymore, neither would I give out foul comments on certain things, unless provoked.

It seems that a lot of things in life that I wanted to happen, did not happen. That's when I got disappointed, and finally admitted to myself that I still haven't forgiven myself for my past; the shitty things I did to myself, and letting the "Claire Fischer" syndrome get to me.

She's somewhere here, wanting to move to higher idyllic preferences of passion in love and in life.

I will reconcile with her one day, though. Hopefully, in four weeks.

I will let everything go, and think about a lot of things that I haven't done, and what I choose to do in the future, given the options I still have. I will be gone for a long time, and go back when I know the answers.

Then again, I will never know the answers, no one will. So I can't disappear and make life-changing acts to reinstate the sanity I used to have...

But I think my mind would be clearer to commit life-changing acts that could somehow put an end to this depression, and keep whatever's left of my sanity.

I am nervous of this because I don't think I'd actually have the courage to do things right from the start again.

I have this habit of breaking my life into chapters.

One month, I'd be doing this. The next month, that.

After every year, I try to look back at my life, and I can say that even if I have all these hang-ups, I know, not one person could have done what I have done in my lifetime...

But hey, like the Great Jah Ruler repeats in them songs:

"Everything's gonna be all right now, everything's gonna be all right..." - Bob Marley

Let. Go.

2006-03-03T01:57:00.000-08:00

I remember watching "Jeepers Creepers" and there's a part where the older sibling (sister) sort of warned her younger brother not to go into the hole where the monstrous antagonist dumped the humans it killed. She goes like, "You know that part in the movie where someone does something stupid and everybody hates him for it? That's what you're doing right now."

Well, I got one line to myself: "You know that time in your life when you think you're doing something right, but then you tried doing something better, and end up running for the rest of your life for it? Uh...yeah."

That's exactly the only thing I have to say tonight.

Let it be.
Go against the flow.

Beauty and Madness

2006-02-15T02:01:00.000-08:00

over there, just beneath the moon
there's a man with a burden to keep.
now sleep will fall washout rags n' paper bags.
homes and lives passing by.

who will see the beauty in your life?
and who will be there to hear you when you call?
who will see the madness in your life?
and who will be there to catch you if you fall?

now dreams run wild, as lovers find their way
through the night, not a care in the world.
and over there, over the twinkling of the lights
harbor lights, say goodnight one more time.

who will see the beauty in you life?
and who will be there to hear you when you call?
who will see the madness in your life?
and who will be there to catch you if you fall?

-Fra Lippo Lippi

Put@ng in@.

Tama sinabi ng friend ko, wala atang term na hindi niya ako nakitang hindi umiyak.

Andami kong gustong murahin, andami kong gustong...tirisan na parang tigyawat.

Nagpakatino nakong tao eh, kaso sabe ko Lord, kung pahihirapan niyo lang pa rin ako, maggagago na lang ulit ako. Mukhang mali desisyon ko kasi lalong lumala at gumulo buhay. So ngayon, sabi ko papakatino na ulit ako, sana huwag na niya akong pagbuhusan ng galit.

Ewan.

Early Morning Stampede in Relation to Art.

2006-02-04T00:24:00.000-08:00

I woke up to the Wowowee stampede aired on a news channel my brother switched onto, which he set to maximum volume. I found out that this happened as early as six o'clock in the morning as someone shouted "BOMB!". Of course, it caused great panic so the people just ran in different directions, looking for the nearest exit.

Then it made me think, why would people want to watch the show's first anniversary celebration? They wanted to be starstruck? They want to help ABS-CBN defeat the undisputable channel where Eat Bulaga aired? OR was it because the millions of prizes they give out during the show?

Poverty indeed has played a major role in third-world countries. It has claimed lives. It will continue to, and I think its hunger has just increased to those lives it claimed this morning.

Clear enough, what we need is change, and I think that's typically an evolutionary step most people fail to develop sometimes. We have the habit of procrastinating certain actions that could pertain to interpersonal growth, consoled in “taking their time” and spending it unwisely on hanging out and puffing the lungs out in designated smoking areas.

As someone studying in an art school, students should be educated not just by their teacher-practitioners, but by the environment they choose to dwell in.

Art, as our main interest in school, should not be just an expression of angst, or random flow of emotions, it is supposed to be well-planned.

In relation to what happened this morning, the real challenge that we, as a Filipino people, ought to think twice about is how to precisely interpret the different socio-economic matters to those who can afford assistance.

This is how each artist’s craft, and a people's nation, should be maintained and extravagantly expressed.

Under Its Influence.

2006-01-24T16:56:00.000-08:00

The past few days have been awfully hard for me, and as I near the middle of my last term in school, I fear that money I've been earning is not sufficient for my academic needs, especially when you go to the type of school who loves to hold art exhibits at the expense of their students.

"I was always scared that I wasn't ready..." - Nate Fischer

I just watched Six Feet Under, season five's finale and true enough, as most of my friends have said that I do take on the personality of Claire Fischer. I do find it impossible sometimes, though, to actually see myself in her character, but I do glimpse a little of her mislead ideals and unending passion for what she seeks to become. I do feel her regrets in life, her aspirations, and most of all, her hang-ups from decisions she failed to ask advice on.

Six Feet Under is one of my favorite TV shows, but I have not watched all of the episodes yet...mainly because I always didn't have the time, and that it made me cry a lot. It had a simple storyline, but it was universal as keeping the family together, and making it strong enough to make you go through your ordeals, but as painstakingly real as showing you how not all of it can happen at all...and it was after watching it I realized that I have that burden.

I have that eternal burden of keeping my family together and making them strong enough to go through our ordeals together.

I can never do that right if I didn't let go of all my hang-ups, my regrets, or even the fear of what lies ahead in my life, and until now I'm still figuring out a way to make it all work.

"You can't stay here," Nate said to Claire when she was about to back out on leaving her house and on her way to New York.

Dang, that sounded like a good plan.

It was the best one I ever heard.

...of amusing circumstances.

2006-01-06T21:59:00.000-08:00

I find it amusing to look back at the year 1998 and find myself in CCP as one of the glee club members fronting for an australian teenage group of performers touring different countries as part of their learning process...and to find myself in PICC, 7 years later, an usherette to yet another foreign group called The Stylistics. The funny thing was, I knew the australian performance back in 1998 was in CCP but it didn't look the same whenever I visited the place so I waved it off and thought it was probably in PICC, and just several days ago when I went there to be an usherette, I swear I thought we changed venue 7 years ago from CCP and performed in PICC instead. Then just now, I couldn't figure it out anymore so I took a look at the artist pass I had back then. True enough, it was in CCP that we performed in 1998. I found all this peculiar because it was only then it hit me how memories are seen differently every time you try to remember them, and the slightest change in detail of where it all happened could make me go berserk.

I did have fun being an usherette, it was an all-new experience I wouldn't dare miss out on again. I saw a lot of things happen: audiences raising their voices to complain so that others can witness their complaint and flaunt their power to complain that's why they complain (--say what?!), customers putting on poker faces, or smiling too much because they have to return your greeting that's actually part of your job, and not your mutual willingness to greet people, and those who treat us like anything lower than their pets at home. I saw a woman who started making a scene in the middle of the show because of problems they had with their seat numbers and hail an usher as if she was gesturing to her own personal slave. It was a big problem, though, but something which did not require a lot of other people's attention; something that could have been easily solved without creating much of a scene. All I can say is that people who treat ushers and usherettes like that are garbage. Between shows and intermissions, which is mostly during our breaks, we talk about you, we b!tch about you, and you don't know how low we think of you. People who make a living out of being ushers and usherettes are decent individuals who just sometimes try to make both ends meet, yet some are rich enough to buy you, but humble enough not to let everyone know of their social status because they wanted to experience living a normal and simple life without the leisure of living under their parents' shadow. The least you could do is try acting like normal and decent human beings, even if you paid a large amount of money to watch a show.

I'm proud I was able to be an usherette for just a couple of days though, and I'm looking forward to having more of this kind of work. You get to greet people and smile at them a lot. It's a great feeling...it's different. It's simple and yet exhilirating; like watching Stargate Atlantis but feeling melancholic afterwards. Weird, but I like that kind of mixed emotions. Yeah, I love it. Someday soon, I hope I get to do this again...it's hard but it's fun, and you get to meet a lot of new people...yeah, I really like that.

"Europe Through Cinema"

2005-09-27T21:48:00.000-07:00

European Filmfest at Shangri-la Plaza!
Watch them until October 2!
Admission is free! (First-Come, First-Served)

http://yasunta.deviantart.com

Untitled.

2005-08-07T21:12:00.000-07:00

Wow...I just got a gift...three Neil Gaiman books and a collection of photographs from Tita Marites! I can't believe it. It's like I was a kid again and it felt like I was actually excited and looking forward to celebrating my birthday. The feeling was so different, it's like being lifted off my messed-up life. I'd say this will be one of the best ones I'll ever have in this lifetime...heehee.

Here's my favorite picture:

Yes, back to my thesis: I have been going to places the whole weekend, interviewing people for it. I guess it was a new form of renewal, having heard things that these people went through, and how uplifting it was to hear them talk about their struggles and still stand strong.

I went home this afternoon, and fell asleep because I was too tired to think or do anything...and then I woke up listening to Tori Amos' "Silent All These Years". I'm like, what the heck have I been doing with my life? Twenty-one years, and still I felt as if I didn't learn anything at all. Sure, I'm well-versed with a lot of computer thing-a-ma-jigs, but about self-renewal and soul-fulfillment...? I don't think I'm anywhere near that now. So I decided to listen to India Arie's Live In Brazil DVD... and I've always loved falling asleep to the words of her song...

"I wanna go where the mountains are high enough to echo my song, I wanna go where the rivers are deep enough to drown my shame. I wanna go where the stars shine bright enough to show me the way, I wanna go where the wind calls my name."

It's like I'm not meant for all this crap. I have a calling, yet I don't know where...ahahah. I'm beginning to sound like a teenager wanting freedom from late night curfews. Ima stop now.

To my pinoy_mohican: you rawk ma worlds pare \m/

Static.

2005-07-24T22:30:00.000-07:00

I rode the bus traveling from Las Piñas to Taft Avenue, but I got off too quickly so in the dark, I walked almost half of Buendia to where I rode a jeep around 10-15 minutes later. Funny thing was, I wanted to keep on walking not until I get to my house, but even farther. Any place where my feet would take me. I wish I could walk my way out of this misery. Hahaha. That really sounded melodramatic...that's a load of crappy lines.

Anyway, I did feel a little melancholic while walking. I was thinking of just running into the middle of the street, stopping to lie there so that the high-speeding buses won't see me in time for them to break. Jeez, I'm turning suicidal. The truth is, I've never been this helpless. Last time I was this depressed, I knew I could cope with things. I was thinking I was going to have a better life in this new system I was gonna enroll myself into for education, a whole new sets of friends I wanted to meet, and a new standard of self-proclaimed confidence. There's just one problem, it's been almost two and a half years since that forced change of optimism and like gas refilling a car, I'm running out of places to get my resources from...and that no matter how much I want to convince myself that I'm doing better, I've never had this strong an urge to let go.

Let go of everything.

Every single thing.

Even life itself.

Damn.

But I can't.

I've never been this helpless in my life. My sanity's being torn apart with all the pressure coming from my parents, my family's health, my health, my _______ deadlines, my __________ crap, and my thesis. People coming and leaving...oh, and this temporary psychosis my friend told me that your mind goes into when you don't get enough sleep, which is not so temporary anymore since I've been sleeping at 2 o'clock am, and waking up at 5 o'clock in the morning for more than a year now. I wish I was a student. No, I am a student. I wish I could stay and dwell in being a student, and be problematic about nothing but my academics.

Hayy. I'm going to stop whining now. No matter how hard I try, I'm not getting poetic enough to write anything moving right now.

Did you say "no, this
can't happen to me,"
and did you rush to
the phone to call?
Was there a voice unkind
in the back of your mind
saying, "maybe... you
didn't know him at all."
-Jeff Buckley

How to kill a dozen million ants with mustard...

2005-06-28T20:20:00.000-07:00

Can you actually do that? I was thinking of drowning them with chocolate, but since it's too sweet it might get swamped by about a couple of dozen million more.

I've been staring all day in front of the computer for the past few weeks and I still didn't come up with anything for my thesis. Zilch, mehn. I've never been this brain dead in my entire f*cked-up life. Oh, and by the way, depression has just found its way back to one of my favorite past-time activities. When I get depressed, it's either I eat or I completely don't...and I'm gaining weight.

Then again, I was still figuring out how to kill a dozen million ants with chocolate, but I can't, so I thought mustard would be great. If I'm able to figure out how to count all the ants, making sure they're exactly a dozen million without getting bit (so I'd know how much of their population I'd actually kill...sensus!!), then I'll probably figure out something for my thesis.

Until then, I'll have nothing else to dump outta my...hmmm...crapped-in brain cells.

-------------------------------------------
The moon visits once in a while,
sweeps me off my sleep to let me lie
on its scorched skin,
letting me cover it
from the light of the blinding sun;
a savored few seconds of freedom.
-Eclipsed
-------------------------------------------

I need water!

2005-06-22T10:24:00.000-07:00

I don't know what's exactly wrong with me but I've been sick for almost a month now. One of my friends told me to keep drinking water and tons of Vitamin C ... nothing's happening!! My brother told me to have myself confined in a hospital already...I'm like, no way! No hospitals for me, pare! Anyway...nothing new still. Just the same old laggin on my thesis ... crap. I need to get started on it right away...e0n. Ima be emailing jersey boy in awhile..see yah all around.

Ahem ... for the lurkers ... ahem ahem ahem ... you know who you are ... you better start telling me your links so I can put you in my insane list found at the right column of my blog...HA! Stop lurking y'all...bwehehehe!

A darker shade of black.

2005-06-20T00:15:00.000-07:00

I went to Fete De La Musique last night, part of the annual French Festival celebration, this year in El Pueblo. Going through the crowd was exhausting. There was actually heavy traffic from too many people gathered in one place. I was able to get passes, though. I used it to take some pictures of them musically-inclined artists performing onstage.

It was fun, especially seeing some of the artists I've known since my first few months in college. It's just sad that I wasn't able to take their pictures because I was not feeling well, and going from one place to another was really, really tiring because of the crowd.

Twenty-four hours later, I find myself back in my room. Rested, but not completely well enough to do the right things...(sheesh, thesis...)

I felt that one person whose made this perfect importance in my life right now is beginning to disappear; how faint this person I fear would be with everything that will happen. Every bit of detail that connects him to me is slowly flying away in search of new aspirations and anticipation.

It just gets crazier, and darker.

The only light in this room is coming from my monitor, and I've been using and looking at it for the longest time I forgot how the rest of the room looked like. I turned around and realized that there were different shadows sealing their places on the walls. There was a lighter shade of gray that played near the edge of my curtain blinds, and the shadowless space beside my computer where the monitor is not pointed at. It's insanely compelling, knowing that this might last for months. Years, even. I find it uncomprehensible; how everything can completely turn around after the first hand of the clock hits the same number again...

but I can never grasp, and yet forget the pain of someone leaving, and the agony of waiting.

There's no end to this tale, nor this entry. Just the cycle of going back and starting [writing] anew, or dwelling on the emotions that liveth the same melodrama.

I'd leave earth if I was alien enough.

2005-06-15T08:57:00.000-07:00

I just don't know what else I have left to say to the people living in this planet, much more to those who make it harder for those to go through life on an everyday basis. I've been trying so hard to stop myself from cussing, cursing, and f*cking other people's lives because of this resentment.

Well, f*ck it.

I'd leave earth if I was alien enough.

Dulaang Filipino Pictorial

2005-06-13T07:51:00.000-07:00

Nothing really new except for the pictorial. We'll be featured as one of the school's artist group in BLIP's next issue (Benildean Lifestyle, Interests, & People). Yes, that's a tutu...HA! Everyone wore a costume (eeks). Anyway, that's it for now. I'm off to Shangri-La Plaza in a few hours for the chinese film festival.

Chinese Film Festival 2005

2005-06-11T02:04:00.000-07:00

Gada Meilin is about a meilin (he who caters to people's problems, if I remember it right...Gada is the protagonist's name) who revolted against their government from taking over their grassland. This movie shows an arrangement between the Japanese and the Chinese officials taking over the mentioned land. I guess it's the typical movie where a hero tries to lead the men to freedom, but not as typical as what happened in the end.

I'm really in no condition to be poetic and even pretend to be a good writer in trying to explain this movie after having only an hour's sleep for almost a week now. I'm almost brain dead, but I've realized that there's so much to know about certain emotions that we, asians, have encountered from different races of oppressors...might it be foreign, or that of our own kind. I felt betrayed, so humiliated that while others, whose generation has long surpassed even our own timeline, has fought for freedom, for what is right, and for the betterment of the community.

It's just one of those times where I'm actually confused at how to make our own race stay in this country to painstakingly uplift whatever values it has left while our own people backstab us, but it's just that there's so much left to discover, to know about, and to learn about our own past to even begin planning so much for the future.

I just think that we should know so much about ourselves and our roots even before we try to step out of our cocoon.

Anyway, Gada Meilin is part of the Chinese Film Festival 2005, presented by the National Commission for Culture and the Arts (NCAA), organized in cooperation with the Embassy of the People's Republic of China, the State Administration of Radio, Film, and Television of China, and the Shangri-La Plaza. This festival is one of many activites celebrating the 30th Anniversary of the Diplomatic Relations between the Republic of the Philippines and the People's Republic of China. This partnership has been a powerful example of beneficial cultural exchange, a crucial tool in the actualization of global harmony and collaboration.

So check them out because admission is free, and it will be running from June 10 - June 13...here is the schedule:

Gada Meilin
June 10 - 7:15pm
June 12 - 2pm
June 13 - 9:30pm

Nuan
June 10 - 9:30pm
June 12 - 4:30pm
June 13 - 7pm

Judge Mama
June 11 - 4:30pm
June 12 - 9:30pm

Story of Lotus
June 11 - 7pm
June 13 - 2pm

Live in Peace
June 11 - 9:30pm
June 13 - 4:30pm

Splendid Season
June 11 - 2pm
June 12 - 7pm

Live a splendid extended weekend. Ma pinoy mohican jp would have enjoyed watching these spectacular movies though =(

Beyond Incandescence

2005-05-01T04:19:00.000-07:00

I've spent almost my entire childhood dreaming to be a writer, and spent the past few years of my college slaughtering that dream. I stopped at 18.

Almost two reams of used bond papers piled my cabinet, waiting to be burned, more than 3 dozen stories without endings...some of them were just outlines and didn't even reach any kind of introduction.

Trying to live that dream meant years of giving life to inanimate objects, and splendidly making the deaths of protagonists seemed ultmately rectifying. Some called it fiction. I called it my time-consuming attempt at writing poetry. The use of short and rhymed phrases were never really my thing, so I resorted to prose instead.

I've learned a lot in those years when I used to attend prose workshops. Professional writers would gather in a circle and have our pieces read. We'd talk about it for hours, some advised me to change the way I write, while others told me to seek out the rationale behind every move in the story. Always keep it plausible, they said.

It was a whole new timeline of complications running alongside my then-confused teenage life.

I did learn something, though. In creating art, all you need is passion...and you have to call on that. She, who taught me, called it a "muse". You have to summon your muse to guide you, she said.

So I did.

Summoning your muse was the hardest...it entails a long wait, and extreme patience for the whole process to begin. The idea, the structure, the emotions...but things were complicated. No, I was complicated. Sometimes, during those days when I stopped calling onto it, it started to show itself almost everytime I try not to succumb into getting a pen and jotting down whatever it dictates...until it started to fade away.

Weakened...yes, not gone, just slowly deteriorating beneath my cerebrum's cap of thought; slowly entangling itself with the rest of my subconscious, like a past that would rather cease to evolve than continue to battle its massacre.

It was slow torture, like the rest of the world's cry against hate and sarcasm. It was a lot like love between thousands of miles, fighting to hold on, uncertain in its own agenda.

After so many years, I summoned my muse for one last time. I wanted to know if it can still give life, if it can resurrect me. One man came, in its utmost and perfect features. So I began to write...

I could still smell his perfume as if he was seated next to me, see him laugh at a lousy song playing over the radio, hear him whisper how he loved me, and see him get excited in buying independent albums of local artists he could bring to his new home.

I tried to use the right words to say the right things, but the words ran out on me, like bullets running out of bulletholes to dig themselves into when fired. Soon, there was no space for any kind of emotion but depression.

He held my hand so tightly at the airport, and I couldn't let go. I didn't want him to let go, either..but I bit my lip and told myself that there was nothing we could do, but wait.

So, once again, despite the dreams that haunted me in the middle of the night, and the grueling slumber where the muse tried to avenge its forced annihilation by poking needle-pointed nails in the middle of my chest, I tried to write.

I wrote words that were insignificant to the sane, I wrote words that were lustful. I wrote words that made me cry my heart out from sunrise to sunrise the next day, for weeks. I didn't do anything, but write...because I know it lives.

It thrives, sometimes there to comfort me amidst the mourning of its own death, even in the distance that separates us.

It will be with me and I will call upon it, every moment of my waking hours.

And I will just be here...waiting.

in this life ...

2005-04-21T06:11:00.000-07:00

There are places I remember
All my life, though some have changed.
Some forever, not for better.
And some have gone, and some remain.

Dave Matthews Band's version of it brings me back to the first time I saw it on a local television channel in the early 90's, Bette Midler was singing, as part of a movie called "For The Boys".

I think I'm suffering from what you call an early 20's crisis, if such a term actually existed. I felt like I've done so many crazy things and so many wacky stunts at the age of 17. The irony is, now that I'm 4 years older, I feel like I haven't done the things that still need attention.

I'm still scared of places where I can see right through the next floor, especially when people or cars are moving under it, and I am still fond of playing with stuff toys, especially Stitch...things I never wanted to do when I was youngER.

All these places have their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall.
Some are dead and some are living.
In my life I've loved them all.

There were times of depression, which was made up of almost 75% of my life, with people coming, staying for a few years, and leaving for good. Some people just wanted to pass by, some decided to stay until now. Some of them I can't even remember how they looked like.

I remember watching Highlander when I was in fifth grade. It's been so long I've forgotten if it was one of the movies or the series, but if I recall it right, there was one scene where MacLeod brought his 80+ year old wife outside to talk for awhile. She was near death and MAcleod wanted her to see how the outside looked like while having their last conversation. The wife noticed noticed how he didn't age at all, and I think Macleod just smiled. He then buried her after she died, left the place, and went to where he could move on with his life.

It's just weird sometimes, when from the start you can have all the time in the world, and yet feel that it's not enough even if almost a decade has passed. I'm only 20, and I feel this way. I couldn't begin to imagine if immortals actually existed in this world; the trauma, the depression...such remorse and agony.

But of all these friends and lovers,
There is no one compares with you.
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new.

But sometimes, some people who stay do make a lot of difference even in the shortest amount of time. There were people whom I thought I could share a lifetime with, but now, I don't even know if they're still alive.

Changes. Evolution. Satisfaction doesn't come easy for people who live in the fast lane. They...we...tend to always crave for something new, something exhilirating and more dangerous. We're like fools who want the best, but doesn't realize it until it's gone. Yeah, we're the whole population of shitheads who just don't know when
to stop sometimes.

Though I know I'll never ever lose affection
For people and things that went before,
I know I'll often stop and think about them.
In my life I love you more.

With all the things I have done, and with all the crap I've put myself through, there are things that I'll never forget: people I know I could go home to, and people I still love.

What people don't see sometimes is that it really doesn't matter if you stay long enough or not, sometimes you just have to make that difference, even for that split second in that someone's life, and sometimes...just sometimes, it could worth living a lifetime for.

on oysters and CSIs...

2005-04-12T15:59:00.000-07:00

There's always a certain hint of poetry with the way CSI handles murder cases scientifically. May it be William Petersen, David Caruso, or Gary Sinise. From the professional night work in Las Vegas, the marshes that surround Miami, and to the crazy politics of the very infamous New York.

My brother taught me that intellectual people are fond of intellectual games and puzzles during their rest time. He said that practicing your mind with a lighter load of problem solving during a break makes your mind more flexible when you go back to work. Chess, for example. You don't play chess for a living, it's just a game you play. Of course, if athletics is your life, then that's a whole new totally concept ~_^

There was also this conversation I had with one of my friends, a comparison of all three CSI series. They were debating on what was more artsy, or which one gave more emotion, etc. It was kind of hard on my part because I liked all three. There was this episode, though, about transvestites that totally changed my perspective. This
episode just made me respect them even more.

I then realized that CSI is more than just portraying a certain aura: the wild life in Las Vegas, the depressing swamps in Miami (I feel melancholic when it comes to bodies of water), and the monotonic feel (colors) to New York's episodes.

I guess it's just any other art form that tries to portray itself through the murder cases; the type of shows that show the real meaning of life through death.

It's like watching HBO's Six Feet Under (that I miss watching so much), but on a different setting and a totally different timeline. It's all about life, and its appreciation of its own true and perfect sense.

There are two types of male oysters,
and one of them can change gender at will;
and before man crawl out of the muck(?),
maybe he had the same option.
Maybe originally, we were supposed
to be able to switch gender,
and being born with just one sex,
is a mutation.

~Grissom

...the kind of lines I'd use as my signature.

2005-04-08T03:21:00.000-07:00

============================================================
A dose of marijuana can actually take away your depression,
but people tell me that too much of it can cause depression
even when you're not taking it anymore...HA!
Now, that...is one helluva sh!t to deal with it.
============================================================

====================================
When do you step over the edge,
and say you are a renewed person?
Is it when you stop smoking, stop
drinking, and stop taking drugs,
or is it when you stop magnetizing
all the wrong people?
====================================

=============================================
why does Jeff Buckley's "Last goodbye"
make people cry? Sorry I just had to ask.
Listening to it has become a very contagious
act and I'm beginning to get irritated.
=============================================

===================================
Someone told me that you only
have either yourself, or the
other person as your enemy.
I think he's right.
The enemy is either him, or me,
and everyone else stays neutral.
So I guess you don't win a fight
by choosing who's better,
you just have to find out
who you're fighting with.
===================================

wtf ... say what!?

Time Space Warp.

2005-04-03T08:14:00.000-07:00

I swear, there have been more than a zillion times I've heard this song that just makes me want to reminisce the good old days back when I was still a student dj, in this radio station in Novaliches.

There was an episode in Quantum Leap, a very old TV series that I used to watch when I was in elementary, probably around third grade. There was an ending when Scott Bakula and his wife (I think...) were looking up at the night sky and was looking at the same star, despite the time differences they were experiencing (the protagonist was leaping through time). In that moment, they felt like they connected. Oh, and they were also able to communicate through a hologram that visits him in whatever time Scott Bakula was in.

There's this song: Hands To Heaven, by Breathe, it was one of the favorite songs of one of my friends in the radio station. Everytime I hear it, I find myslf looking at either the sky or the ceiling, and it usually gets played when I'm at the lowest point in my life...haha, whatta load full of crap, I know.

It's just that whenever I hear this song, it makes me feel like I was hearing it for the first time, with all the good and bad memories flooding my brain, but as if nothing actually happened in between them. It's like that episode in Quantum Leap when both of them looked up at the same star, it was as if they were reunited in that split second.

Yeah, yeah... a whole lotta emotional sh!t. HA! I could even make a video of the whole song with me in it.

Starting from the time when I was handling the console, to one of those low moments when the song would suddenly play out of nowhere, whether in the mall, the jeep, or the fx that I seldom ride...even the LRT. Yes, out of a thousand trips I've made in my lifetime, there was this one time that they were playing a song...and yes, you guessed it right.

Guess what again? It's playing right now.

Alright, that's it...'till next time's dump of ma crap on your brain :D

tUrNiNg tHe LiGhTs dOwN LoW

2005-04-01T10:15:00.000-08:00

I remember the first time I cried my heart out for this song; Bob Marley's version of "Turn Your Lights Down Low". It was already sunrise and I could see its rays seeping through the opening in the curtains back in ma old house. I fell asleep listening to the song the night before and woke up to it when the alarm rang that morning. I think I was supposed to go to class at that time...the last day of my tormenting 7am-9pm class schedule that happens once a week. I had to finish and submit everything so I'd pass the term...but I stayed in bed, all day. God, it was this feeling of remorse that came over me, wishing that I could just remain hidden behind the curtains and just stay out of the sun's rays that almost cut the room in two, like a vampire hidden in the shadows...but yeah, like them say: there are bills to pay, and trains to catch, words to say, and eggs to hatch...bwahahahaha... that's the lamest rhyme I've heard in my entire life. Well, next to my friend's neverending quest to perfect the hippity-hop lingo, that is.

Right... where was I? I'm listening to the song's jazz version right now, off Lee Ritenour's produced album way, way back in 2001 (A Twist of Marley). Actually, it makes me relax, not all tensed up and wishing to cry my heart out once again.

There's a line that goes "You know I love you and I want you to know right now 'cos I want to give you some love. I want to give you some good, good looooovin'..." The song is so relaxin' you don't ever want it to end. Well, I don't. It's been on loop for more than a day while I do my acad stuff.

Thinking back to that time when I was crying my heart out, I'm not sure if I was all tearful because of the lyrics or was it just because of the melancholic beat of the song? Is it because it's about a love that you want to give, but no one's worthy enough to receive it?

... or do I mean no one stays long enough to receive it entirely?

Yeah...I think that sounded almost right.

-------------------------------------------------------
The moon calls me from beneath the yielding stars,
the rain slowly engulfing me in its wretched embrace.
-------------------------------------------------------

The bounding perimeter...

2005-03-26T04:18:00.001-08:00

The world goes around the globe...yeah, it does. The physical body continues with its delegated work even if the heart or the mind disagrees.

I'm sure a lot of people would react about how I said that, or what I've exactly said, especially the critcs who never fail to question your line of thinking even if it meant the old-fashioned debate about the egg and the chicken, about which came first, and blah, blah, blah.

What's my point? It seems odd that when there's so much time to waste, I always do end up putting it to waste without working on anything decent, anyway. Then again, don't we all?

Again, what's my point? I guess I'm just not comfortable when the world becomes suddenly all too small for me in just a split second. When I get uncomfortable, I get paranoid, and when I get paranoid, I tend to drown my mind with all the typical fallacies human beings often commit...and when the world becomes too small for my sh!t, where would everything go?

Imagine a world where everyone knows each other and everyone can love one another freely because we all know each other and since we all know each other, we should love and take care of each other. Sheesh, I swear that's the only time I used the word know more than twice in a sentence and on stressing a point at that.

Where will "being left in the dark" all go to? When will the line "I need space for myself" ever be used? Where will the word adventure thrive on if we knew exactly where we're going and the people we will relate to?There's no sense in redefining yourself over and over again if the same people know the people you will get to know in the future. If ever you do want to start anew, people from your past who know the people you will meet may have already tainted their minds about who you are and what you are even before meeting them. Say what?

Sure, there's this "check and balances" that make people go gago and say "oooh, she's changed over the years..." or the ever-so-destructive ones that go like "...damn, girl, what the hell did you do to your hair!?" HA... it does seem funny to read about it now but for people who know too many other people...geesh, don't you feel like Jim Carrey in this one movie where his whole life was a lie and people paid to watch him on TV?

Alright, so I might be overdoing it, but I think I'm really beginning to hate those online communities on the internet...you know the ones where you get to create your account, upload your pictures, get connected through the people in your network, and write your testimonials to each other. Yeah, that. Well, I really don't hate it...I just got annoyed this afternoon when I found out that the people I used to hang out with back in high school, these people in the lower batch, know some of my friends in the senior year in college. Aah, you're probably thinking...there goes her insecurity level turning red again, aye? I don't think so. If you've read my entry well enough, then you'd totally understand where I'm coming from.

I guess writing this entry was one way of unloading useless crap out of my now-dazed-and-confused head. It would make me think clearly, I hope.

So...did I just mention that the body continues with its delegated work even if the heart or the mind disagrees? Yeah...don't we all.

something about new things and $#!T

2005-03-13T11:43:00.000-08:00

I've decided to do some writing again, after a few years of ex-communication with Macromedia and Adobe softwares. Is it going to be prose, poetry, or emo? Emo!? That I don't know. There's this song of Fra Lippo Lippi that I surprisingly seem to relate to all of a sudden...

"Sail on the wings of a cloud
Where to, well nobody knows
And cry, cry if you want them to see
Die every day to be free
Be proud to wear the colours that you call your own
Be loud, speak out when the world to know
Be strong, hold the flame for everyone to see
Be weak, if you want to love..."

...too much sentimental sh*t for someone like me, I guess. Yeah, something like that. Writing a diary is the kind of change I dread the most. I never wanted to write in a journal, or have a diary of my own. Heck, I haven't even written more than 20 entries in my deviantart account; one that I've had for almost 3 years now. So for me to have a blog is like me suddenly turning suicidal when I'm the type to enjoy life. It's different, though. I know something's going to happen soon, I just don't know what. I just suddenly had this urge to write, as if I wanted things documented before it occurs.

Queer. Haha. That word reminds me of a lot of things. I just wish I'd be strong enough, as I always tried to be, in this kind of future. Whatever it is, ima just let the sun shine in and make love to the brightest stars in the universe.

http://yasunta.deviantart.com