Ciggy Ciggy!

me and lei have accustomed to eating anything in the fridge come past 12. i am getting fat. it feels bad man. i have these bulges all around my hips. and i feel heavy. i like to cook. and she likes to eat. grrr. and i told her i'll make her a punching bag if ever she gets fat. but i wouldn't. the lady is too adorable to hold my lightning punches.

last night i cooked hmmmm no. recooked what i cooked last 2 days? she is starting to like ribs. simmered in a hot pot of soy sauce then pan grilled and then toasted in a toaster. imagine that. we also devoured left overs of pasta and anchovy submerged in a monstrous pile of sweet peas. if only i could have taken pictures of that. and chicken liver too! marinated in lemon rind. and only that.

just this morning we had fiery hot hotdog. and i mean very fiery hot. you can see a lot of red pepper sleeping inside the hotdog waiting to explode the moment it lands in your mouth. i wouldn't ever buy it again. playing jokes on consumers should not be tolerated.

what else about food?

oh later we're cooking fish. the oily fish. gindara. yup. sure.

hmmmm hello blog for a notepad:

and again just don't mind me.

move along move along.

what i don't know is:

do we have clients? are they ready for this? i heard they're also extending to australia? what about the itenerary of our clients? what about their acommodation? how much are they paying? how involved are we come september next year?

september!

hmmmmm i have other plans in mind. so whay would it bother me?

nevertheless, in order to make it through the cave you have to know what's inside.

have you ever felt that you want to get all the work piled up on you done in 1 day but at the end of it you never finished a single thing?

bad for you.

i finished them all.

muhuhuhhahahahahahahahahahaha!

okiboi!

i'm a hamster.

it's maybe because of the classical music that is playing here in the office every afternooon.

it's maybe because we can't sleep for the past days.

it's maybe because we are sad because we only have three days left together.

i'm a hamster

maybe because i was such an inconsiderate dick last night.

maybe because i am desparate with not being with her in the next few days.

maybe because this is how things will be.

i'm a hamster

because she has been my water.

because the pine shavings will be cold when she's gone.

because distance is a cage.

i'm a hamster.

please master.

don't take her away.

don't mind me. i'm just making this blog as a notepad for myself. move on. move on.

If you are working as a marketer in the Philippines in a global scale then you should be shaken. why? because Philippines as a brand is easily comparable to a sari sari store. which has no brand at all. not its big rusty signange which is similarly generic to any known country that has a flag.

we are known to the world as a country of superstars, shorter than grasses and eats bugs for breakfast. the truth is we are not Japan. not even Vietnam. argh! am i belittling our country? i don't know. i think there is an obvious slim film of a fact between being nationalistic and being realistic. you know what i mean if you are a filipino.

i am not discussing this for the purpose of blaming or gassing up to flame and flame again. *fart fart* this is just a mere observation of a tightrope promotion of a company of what they so called island people. man, we should not even be joining the global bandwagon. but. on the upper hand. we can compete. we have been can. see? ehehe

it's because of the talented people that this country is surviving and dying.

but let me get back to my point which is.... ahhhh

marketing a service that is Philippine based. hmmm a lot of things to consider

1. increased currecy stability
2. restoring international credibility and investor confidence

shall i go on?

3. reversing international ratings downgrades

shall i?

4. increased exports of branded goods and services?

more?

5. increased inbound tourism and investment
6. enchancing nation building
8. reversing negative perceptions of environmental and human rights issues.

ok. ok. i'll stop. thanks Paul Temporal

so!

how should we go around this?

move on. move on.

i have a blog? muhuhuhahahahahaha!

first of all i'd like to express my apologies to blogger.com for not writing in my blog (coz i think they really care).

whurdup???

been going gaga lately over my sched. it's a tough nut to crack.

*tries to crack*

i can't.

hmmmm.... i have a little time left in the office so i might as well make a little fun out of it.

my cellphone is so old its message alert tone is a sigh.

my cellphone is so old you have to pick up its keypads after you enter your message.

my cellphone is so old its ringtones are coarse and shrill sounding. (am waiting for it to have a ghostly tone too)

my cellphone is so old that it has experienced a lot of charger deaths. (this one's corny...or maybe all of it. but what the heck)

my cellphone is so old its LCD is gray.

my cellphone is so old that it doesn't want to accept kiddy game apps anymore.

my cellphone is so old that it snors aloud every night.

my cellphone is so old that hmmmmm its already 6:05

gtg!

it's made up of a hovering round plate and am on it hoping i will not fall in the next weeks.

so they want me to find them a website developer plus hosting. and so i cram. not really cram but it should be the other way around hmmmm integrate. daz better. i know nothing about web designing nor all the geek speak that's incorporated in the business that's why i leaned on to hifi.

and as always uber thanks to my other half.

i really have no idea or am i just confused or somewhat disturbed by the little details that you have to put together. it's like doing a lego robot. this SQL piece goes here and this cron job piece on the top of the robot's horn.

i have gazillions of inquiries really. like what is the size of a typical webpage, 50mb? 3kb? do i go for straight html? or the flashy this-website-is-cool-coz-it's-moving? do i get a separate hosting company or dive in to the web design-web hosting package? do i spend 50k? or settle with a 24k proposal? am i sleepy? or am i? seriously i was expecting to finish this task before the day ends but hayyy...i failed. maybe tommorow. is that the right spelling of tomorrow?

everyday i am always looking forward to 5pm. not that i am a lazy lot but the 5pm sunset rays perk me up. the going home. the cooking dinner. and the hughug that i will be missing come january. err...am i getting flimsy like a menstrual pad again? yes you are puny little brown man.

hehehe this is fun. just telling the whole world about your life while looking at the keyboard smiling like a happy gingerbread. gar i miss the days when i was high. but mind you i hate them. i mean after the drug signs off like that static sound a tv makes after the national antheme... it's over when you hear it. ain't fun anymore when someone loses an eye.

i am still looking on the proposals these web companies purred on my lap. cats! i want one!

what happened to me????

i have no idea. first i got off my current job. that is, goodbye to being a radio demi-god slash audio-cable-for-toes-tree-folk ( i am just dishing off everything that crosses my mind, ill tell you later why). where were we? oh, hahaha i resigned behbeh! yep i did. yep i sent my resignation flying in paperplane style. and i am hearing kherdiezel talking. i always hear people say you have an interesting job dude. being a producer in radio, won't get interesting if you just get tired of doing the same stuff for almost ten years or maybe not or maybe yes or maybe i am developing a three year career itch. 9 is the new three. let it out let it out mister blogger geek. so, i resigned in my job. darn it.

stop.

break.

halt.

i am doing this to compensate the lost space in the course of my cyber absence.

and i decided to get married. hehehe. i heard somebody's pregnant? shhhh.

i have a new job!!!

and i am currently in the administrator's computer here in my office that enjoy's a view of the not-makati ortigas. i am here! i am here! better compensation. not to mention my being a carpenter like my grandfather. it's because of the term "linggohan" or weekly.

*brushes drool off the sleeve*

yeah man weekly. imagine having money every friday night. i hear the sweet barfing of a beer bottle brother!

hmmm time's up. gotta go gotta run. pork and banana soup. yum yum.

argh i'm so gay.

i am looking at the keyboard thinking of how long it has been since i upadted my blog. i want to update this blog as often as i can. but i can't seem to put in my thoughts here. it's a good thing that lei loves to write and we sometimes have writing exercises before we go to sleep and she wrote a line there that somehow affected my blogging. she wrote, "i don't want a mediocre piece". but for the life of it, this is just blogging. but i can't get it off my system mama. to write good entries as often as possible. check louie's blog. talking about not mediocre. :D yes yes yes this is the place where we can be just ourselves. so please seigfred, for the love of writing or/and expression fill your blog as often as possible.

and don't be that perpetual sentimental drama dude that you are. get a life!

uh...ok.

two day's ago we were stuck in what seems to be forever, waiting for a taxi on a darned rainy monday. and behind us in the line is a a german chick with her pinoy hubby and their little Talia.

she's a cooty cooty little duck. louie, i want one. now now now. reminds me of last week. aussie already approved her application. her visa is now a good to go. and we talked. about plans. i want to be sad. but i should not. i've had long distance relationships before and it can take you to surprises you don't want. but i am positive with this. i mean, we've been to a lot of relationships and it would be silly if we had not learned from those. it's funny we're planning to tie the knot next year. we're giving our families the surprise of their life. i hope that we will see that day. and i also don't want to think that that won't happen. anyway's i am happy for her. it's been her dream to go there. and as i've said, this would be seigfred's hitchhike of a lifetime. coot coot cuddly cuddly i want one now.

people, we are expecting two more storms before we go caroling on the streets. ompong and paeng. male names because the people in PAGASA dried up the tank of female names. i remember we have names like undang, ruping, and a lot of silly sounding names that end with ng. back to that darned monday. here's an SM employee doing the flood strut.

if you are wondering what in the world is he doing. that rectangular metal board with handle is a street sign which is now an improvised flood sweeper. onli in da pilipins man. and in the premises of what is supposed to be some proud asian mall we call SM Megamall. how clever. my aunt, a missionary from cambodia sent me an SMS asking about that typhoon that made billboards yield to its fury. well, all i can say is, 1 typhoon and it bogged down the capital of a country. 2 day brownouts, no phonelines, atm lines are busted, third world country. a perfect disaster. which reminds me, i have to email her.

hehe too much of hello world this is my corner. enjoy mutilating my writing. ta-ta.

one thing that i bear in mind all the time:

"you don't have control over a lot of things, but you can control yourself, and through that, things will go your way."

i have no idea where did i get that but i had it in my mind since i don't know when. and with that i never had any problem at all or considered anything to be a problem.

but this time, i am about to lose my cool. i feel like a tree being whipped and lashed from anywhere by a raging storm. and at the end of it, all i can bear in mind is, that's the way it is so i have to hold on to ground as much as i can.

things won't go our way sometimes... a quite unbearable simple fact of life.

transformation literally means going beyond your form
- Wayne Dyer

err... but i'm not going that way... yet. if you have visited my blog for at least once in your life and forgot how it looked like months ago, this is not what it looks like.

i visited karen cheng's blog and i was fascinated with the minimalism exploding in her blog. i am very attracted to minimalism. there is that astounding beauty in simpleness. i remember i wanted to design my humble makati ghetto urb space to like that of a japanese interior. but because of reasons i completely forgot, i completely forgot that goal. eh?

as i have mentioned in my pasts articles, which is mostly possessed by the sentiholic-melanchomental me, i am going to a fast-paced, gut-wrenching, nerve-wracking transformation. and recently, with all the mumbo-jumbo dimensions i am traversed to, like a drunk juvenile in stupor bathed in discolights and boogie bass rhythms, i felt a piece of myself growing in the middle of my palm.

with all the changes i have been through these past months i found a piece of me. its roots are starting to tattoo on my palm. i can't not have a firm hold of it. hence, i am letting it grow.

this transformation is not putting me beyond who i am. it is making me the who i am.

(and i thought i'd blog with less metaphors. grr!)

the confusion dropped like a bomb that failed to explode. instead it waved only ripples of dust as it landed its belly on the ground.

my first sign that i am not yet disintegrated.

now that i lived to see what this mammoth is-- that it surprised me because of it's failure to detonate. i can stand beside it and bit by bit dismantle it.

with my bare hands, i will loosen the screws, pull the metal covers, pluck and tear the wires, and to its core my fingers will mutilate its elements.

this single drop of a rain of rockets is my chance to know what it is that drops from the sky.

i will find out soon what piece of heaven this is.

after a week of hibernation am back to work. though i really don't feel that i'm back. took a one week leave. soul searching. or maybe not. because i know i've found my reasons and where my life is headed to. the thing is, i maybe am suffering with what what we all yuppies know -- quarter life crisis. though i really don't believe with the idea because living our life is up to us, whether to have a positive outlook or muddle in a lifelong disgust with whatever that is happening that you don't like. we live not to have a hard time right? right said fred.

louie told me that my senses are heightened. she said, "you cook, you make music, you write, you do this and that..." and most of the time whenever i hear her ask, "what is it that you can't do?" well, it elongates the waxy tunnel inside my ear and i get flattered. but what she said hits me straight right to the core.

if i was gifted with a variety of talents why then am i limiting myself to going around in the same circle everyday? why have i been bored to doing the same linear performance?

and yeah i work in a network's creative department but i whenever i go in the office i feel a lid pressed on top of my mojo jar.

i need a hammer.

break this jar. break this crisis. shatter all my pieces and pick em up one by one. and puzzle them up.

this is great. really.---life.

since this blog is named auditorium (which i really haven't explained why until...now), because life is one big rehearsal of what will be forever. right now i am gathering the pages of the script of Act II of my life. so i am going to start in the middle of the beggining

Cast:

Louie Anne
Ciggy Boy

Partial Summary (?)

Well as of this time. Ciggy is suffering from quarter life crisis (if ever there is) and Louie is having quite a hard time figuring out how to comfort him from time to time. Ciggy and Louie have a lot of secret plans which will be revealed later, depending if those secrets will take place. but the supposed to be not-scary evident thing is, Louie will be leaving for Australia and Ciggy wouldn't want to be far away from her, so he is, as if calm but frantic in looking for jobs in Australia. not only that, he is looking for a lot of ways in going with Louie there. every possible thing. He doesn't want to tell Louie to stay because before he was there, the passion to leave for Aussie has embraced her. so in short, this is the part of the script which we will call -

"The Impending Australian Hitch"

Script Confetti 1

INT. AT THE UPPER ROOM (CIGGY BOY'S MAKATI FLAT)
Louie has fallen asleep, ciggy is feeling sad for no particular reason. maybe with his job in which he has been screwing up lately, or maybe louie fell asleep because she's dead drunk and ciggy has no one to talk to or maybe he's thinking of the day that Louie will leave for australia or just maybe it's raining and his quarter life melancholic crisis has sunk like a dried leaf in the gutter stampede by running water.

CIGGY
Love... i can't sleep and i don't know why i feel bad.

LOUIE
(snoring)

CIGGY
Love... (falling off the pillow and lies on his back while caressing louie's hand with his which is under her neck) please... i can't sleep

LOUIE
hmmmm (and snores)

(ciggy gets out of the mattress, goes to the window, opens the jalousie and stares at the lines that the rain has drawn on an urban picture for 5 minutes with a heavy face, and goes back to bed)

CIGGY
Love...please wake up i can't sleep i feel bad i dont know why.

LOUIE
(grunts, gets up, goes to the loo and goes back to bed, spreads her left arm and signals ciggy to sleep in her arms and so he did) why?

CIGGY
i don't know. i have this anxiety attack again. i'm sorry if i am this these days.

LOUIE
(groggy, tipsy, drunk) what do you want me to do?

CIGGY
Just be here

LOUIE
i am always here

(silence for a moment)

LOUIE
Go to sleep

CIGGY
(deep breath)

(fade up sound of rain drumming the roof)
***

Script Confetti 2

INT. AT THE HIDEAWAY (LOUIE ANNE'S QC FLAT)
On the bed with HBO acting like a radio because neither of them wanted to watch TV but decided to just turn it on for whatever's sake.

LOUIE
I don't want to be away from you

CIGGY
What else can we do?

LOUIE
If ever i'l go to Ausie without you i will try my darndest best to get you there the fastest time

CIGGY
that's why we've been passing my resume to every possible employer so that we can leave together

LOUIE
pray pray pray

CIGGY
I'll try my best to do a lot of things for Aussie this week. if you're already in Aussie and if a year has passed and am still not there, i want your butt back here.

LOUIE
because?

CIGGY
we'll get married

LOUIE
(smiles) for sure. i'll go home. am excited.

CIGGY
so am i

(TV sound fades out as if the tv is turned off)

let me draw a line. a timeline of my life. but since it would take me forever to paint it with words, let me start the dot with today and i'll flash cards from then, now and that which is to be visible yet.

she came : i found her

the line went crazy, the horizontal stiff of my existence became scribbles of a 1 year old. and for the first time ever in my life i gasped out these words -- this is hardly easy.

step on
a different set of tiles.

first of all i have to deal with what i left before pressing on. leaving something especially if it is what your life is, isn't easy. you pick yourself from your usual sidewalk and put him to a different pavement. what i had was like walking on the same street everyday then suddenly i found myself treading on water with the vast ocean up ahead. and i must know where to go.

hold on
a compass of a supernatural direction.

i have no plans of leaving the country. really. but here i am everyday praying to go. my compass is made up of a smile, a misty eye, and sounds a lot like a puppy with ADHD syndrome, even if she's silent at times. since i've held on to her i don't want to let go. and she points to impossible. but i have to familiarize myself with the supernatural. coz in the first place she came from it and she is the being of it. i can't explain it in words. it's difficult to describe. but it's a heart-filling gibberish that i understand a lot because it transcends communication. that's where i get my directions.

keep on
a time that never tells

the truth is. whether i go with her or not, she will go. whether we like it or not. that's why we are on it everyday. my hitch of a lifetime. grr i can't write anymore of this.

as i've said this is hardly easy.

putting your life to an uncertainty of where and when which is exactly the opposite of the certainty of what you feel.

but there, is always the supernatural. there, is always her. there, is always me.

on and
on it.

and my timeline marks the beginning of forever.

i want this blog to have a more professional appeal. to discard mash potato entries and other what-nots for someone who already spent a fourth of his life. i want to talk about grown up stuffs.

i remember the movie clueless. i was in my teens when alicia silverstone graced our imaginations. teehee. i remember the movie because i nevertheless agree with luis' observation who is also in the same situation that it feels like high school again. so, highschool. gleeful derangement, where to go, what to do, learning, everyday new discoveries. but wait.

before this overwhelming feeling i was that grown up dude that i imagined when i was a kid. i'm the guy who thought about nothing but how to be (allow me to use this word mr. pricipal) an elegant bachelor.

this blog could use a different look.

but it wouldn't be the me that is me right now. since i grew up in a church, literally, i'm your samuel boy, i even enrolled in a seminary, i called my ever-faithful minister (i do this whenever i feel like am in a place where i've never been before and since this time i feel like it's high school days all over again), i picked up the phone and asked him "is this what you want with my life?" and he said "i put you in that place because that's your purpose".

*insert halcyon days by quentin*

boy am i giddy. that dude up there really knows how to put us in the right places. i love everything now. even the flowers and the birds and the bees.

and there you have it, another not so grown up entry in this blog.

and oh, i have the minister's phone number here if someone wants to ask high school questions.

after 3 days of rest-

this is a rant.

i always thought my current job is my dream job. or so i thought. music can be my life, i could've wanted to do this all my life. making songs. but being in a corporate environment stops the passion. i've said to myself if i only have money i wouldn't be under the pressure of a daily routine, haggling time to what i really want to do. this is silly. complaining. when we should, at all times, avoid it. and the process of defending and taking each blow of everydayness is what matters. i've had too many black eyes, pregnant skins and all the boxer's demise. and now i want to surrender.

but its not the way its supposed to be. giving up on this.

right now im contemplating to resign. im not happy with the environment anymore. i've been over and over thinking... maybe it's just me. feeling so wrong on a very right job for me. i am getting sick and tired. i am getting emotional on this. when everyday im faced with the fact that your job shouldn't affect your personal life. well then blame me because when it gets to my job i take it very passionately personal. its me versus the work. for we are weighed by what we do. how heavy we are in our craft. but the tiring routine, and other what-nots is gnawing my heart to pieces. but then again maybe it's just me. maybe i have to just work and work and close my door to the what-should-not-be's when i start facing this tube.

this shouldn't be a hellhole.

it has a carved a hole to my being. and everyday the light that passes through it burns a wider scope and gives me a peek to a whole new world. it is still a blur though. wonder what would that be. but im pretty much excited of it. the only thing that keeps me going everyday is louiebelle. but that's a happy story. :)

and this, this is a rant.

if butterflies are free to fly, why do they fly away?
- sheryl Crow

freedom is control given. control is freedom taken over.
- somebody who just had peanutbutter for breakfast

set somebody free from what you are in control of in their lives and let's see how they take over that freedom.

philippines. a 2 year old kid. someone you endear so much.

one of the bittersweet-est things in life are free-dom.

just a thought. happy weekend. tomorrow we are free.

today

let me be an undying candle. let me live with this over and over. let me give light to the circumstances that made this darkness.

yesterday

i flickered to the point of a scorch.

let me begin in the midway of the middle of the story.

i was sitting in a polished recline in an airport where feelings of welcome was not welcome-- the departure area. it was a saturday afternoon. the sky cried on my behalf and doubt was its color--neither black nor white. she was asking if i'm supposed to tell her something. i told her "maybe x will be there, i am unsure". then all the people in the airport took off all of their masks and looked at me with their faces, hers. disappointed of me concealing a matter of what is what matters.

fast forward to a week after.

a saturday night communion of friends. wine and painted cards as hosts that some refuse to partake. the sermon was about as what the usual sermon is, faith. the main question that was echoed in the sanctuary was; if you think you're spouse is going somewhere and he is seeing x there but he refused to tell you because he had discarded the thought of telling you, either forgotten, ignored or hidden, would that be considerable or in would that make you feel bad? insecure? that was the tone of the question and its tail points at me.

rewind to a week before.

i was afraid to hurt her. i was scared to tell her that being here in the airport means i'll be with my past in the flesh. the defeaning roar of planes growled at my seclusion of that part of my luggage. if going there would settle everything for the last last time, maybe this luggage will be lost somewhere when i get back to this airport.

40 hours after.

so it did. buried and left at the airport below all the emotional baggage. or so i thought.

two weeks after.

if i had the power to calm crying eyes and invert inverted smiles i would have done it. but i was powerless. the blanket is a lake of tears. the pillows are sob-absorbers. black flowers of doubt and deception grew on the covers of the bed.

two weeks and some days before.

i wrote about the person that i have met when i departed from her for a while. i said, "its ugly that there's a chance that i'll fall for her. and i refuse to".

two weeks and some days after.

black flowers from the bed covers crawl up to her. she read about what i wrote. the possibility that i'll fall for x. she was as anyone would, injured by fire, like a burned loveletter. she felt cheated. i was as deceiving as a demon. i felt eternally racked. i was burning in hell. it was all my fault. i acted on that instance of an emotion. i am all to blame for deception, concealment and ignorance.

so i decided to tell her the whole truth in the hope of splashing water to the fire. "it wasn't maybe, i wasn't unsure. x will be and was there. i am sorry i lied while i was in the airport". then, the black flowers crawled back and ungrew from the bed covers. a second of what could have been tranquility. then, the devious plant weeded out of my nose while she bursted out in sobs of blood. the luggages from the airport rained on my lap and after a hundred thuds, the lights faded to black.

after a few moments

i was the undying candle, she was the endless matchsticks. we go on to illuminating us. to light this room that has faded to black.

yesterday

a big sigh blew the flame and snapped the darkness on when she asked "when was the last time you talked to her?" i said "earlier this afternoon." she asked again "and you havent told me about it?" i said "i forgot." and she asked more "where is the light? why are we in darkness? and it seems that i am out of matchsticks..." i said "i forgot". she said " i forgot is not the answer to the question." i said to myself "this time and honestly, i forgot."

today

this is all the wick i have left. and if this is the last scorch i have left, let me live with it over and over like fire ablaze. let me be an undying candle.

values is what makes a man. the essentials of life. may it be a thing, a pet, an idea, a person, those that we hold of much importance is an integration of our being. if those values are to be gone. we'd feel that we are not whole. a life not fully lived.

as we change through the changing of seasons, we strip off some values. then important things that we espouse are taking a dull shade that we cast them off like snakeskin and grow a new integument that we'll wear in the next zigzag of life. but some values remain. some values are made of bones and corpuscles made from the very integral of our soul.

values that are skin-deep may not be values at all.

family are values. citizenship are values. memories create values. constants of life are values. and not those that can become unvalued by time.

now i don't know how to end this. hmmm... mmmm mmmm

*coz it's been a long time since i 've posted something.

*jumps in on the create posts stool without having anything in particular to talk about*

i dont want to do it but by st. peter's mircale staff i did. two days ago i passed a demo of my songs to synergy music. yep i did. since i'd be leaving our glorious country i decided to leave Filipinos a piece of the music that they want (actually, to be honest, i took chances teehee). all four of them are in tagalog and they are the songs that you usually hear in radio. the songs that most of them intelihente wouldn't want to hear. but accept the fact man, we are only but sleeves of the whole shirt of this popula.

i saw notes on the faces of clouds. and since then i wrote songs. and oh! i had this conversation with dong abay, the farmer-yano, as he calls himself or whoever coined that new alias, weeks ago. man, the guy is amazing. hmmm.. i hope i can do a podcast of that interview here. how how how carabao. i'll do something about that next week. so dong was talking about writing songs, he said, "you can write about almost anything", which is pretty obvious even if you have a pea-sized brain. i can't recall everything he said but the passion is oozing out of his nose! the spaces for you to breathe while listening to his musings are scarce. his zeal for his craft is overwhelming. *looks for podcast*

i'm stuck with this "ikaw" song for months and i haven't finished it because of these reasons:

1. i want it to be contrastive, happy but sadly nostalgic. so i tossed in upbeat drums but setting the key to minor b. minor = sad. upbeat = happy. i don't know if im making sense. and besides i only make music for myself coz the one that i made this song for thinks of it as a sad song, but the lyrics is not really that heavy. here's the torso of the song:

kundi ikaw
kung hindi ikaw
ano ang gagawin
kung di ikaw
hindi buo ang damadamin
ikaw ikaw ikaw


2. sometimes you have that feeling that what you just did is not really that good? so you keep on redoing and revising and redoing it.

3. and again i have no time. but i should have because the parable of talents is ringing in my mind whenever i feel lazy to tinker on my craft.

well as what dong abay said, "bank and bank songs, write for the Filipinos, music is a tool to feel alive." be-a-utiful.

*jumps out of the seat and looks at the guitar...* but i have a lot of officework to do :(

oh, have a nice weekend. :)

conversation is therapy. and opposite of that feel-good benefit of blah-blah is closure slash disclosure. last weekend i had a salad of that, topped with an asian sweet and sour tears and saliva. let me drool all over it again.

why do we sometimes zip our lips to the people we care the most? is avoiding a talk-point that would possibly hurt them a valid reason to keep things to ourselves? but then here's a splash for me (and you?) - all hidden things, in time, will reveal itself. and a disclosure of that kept secret is a conversation in a form of a 350 pound blind masseuse who knows nothing of therapy and by the time his pinky finger lands on your skin, the orchestra of muscle pains is bowed on your body. i can still feel my insides ache as last friday's episode creep back to my mind. she was crying for hours as me the olaf okuninushi of omission sang unsung songs. my heart was crushed. when all the time i want her to be alright. when all the time, i wouldn’t want her to feel uncomfy. when all the time, i dont want her have difficulty in whatsoever. to carry all the burdens literally and metaphorically. yep, and keep things to myself. there goes the conversation of, as she qouted, "hurling blocks of ice on fire". that's why maybe i zipped my lips to some topics that i thought would might disturb her. it ain’t good. right? conversation is therapy.

the weekend that was has left me hollow inside even though i was with her minute by minute. man, all we do is magic and magic and magic. let me get back to that scene. untap, upkeep, play land, cast, attack, take, done? i was giddy when the thought of playing the whole weekend lit up like a good idea but the fiasco is not as what i expected it to be. i would've wanted to talk to her more and more and more. i like it that way. i mean, repeating the words. like, i like this and this and this. but anyways, getting back to talking to her. i want to know more of her, talk of whatnots and what matters. to launch myself to the vast galaxy of her thinking and await comet thoughts. i know she is more than what is visible to the eye. that's one of the reasons why i am with her. you can hurl her anywhere and she'll give you a crash. and we didn’t talk about that. The whole weekend. magic is absolutely entertaining but its a bore compared to talking to her. again, conversation is therapy.

i bought her dwarf hamsters. it's funny that you can watch them tumble, rumble and fumble and you wouldn’t know 20 minutes have passed. how can animals live without the therapy of conversation? the puny creatures that don’t have to talk in order to communicate. hmmmm.. what is the highest level of communication? if conversation is therapy, what is more than that? if therapy is something that makes you feel good, what is it that makes you feel best? i can somehow tell by watching the hamsters... while feeling her just beside me, holding her hand, kissing her from time to time, just being with that someone by whom you can be quiet with. talk is therapy but by the virtue of sleep as the bestest therapy, quiet times are gold...while havin' a lot of lovin'. where was I? conversation is therapy?

I know it feels so heavy
And the words are speaking strange
Hearing the voices
Piercing from within

I am reminded of rainy days when you have nothing to do but watch the raindrops dripping from the metal roof and smell wounds of air being torn by sharp droplets of water from heaven’s loving wrath. When you curl up on a soft cushion trying to be sad when there is really no reason to as you wait for a smiling sunlight to breathe life into the hollow that the gray sky scooped inside your heart.

needing a hot gasp of oxygen.

The roads that fold
Are once again laid like carpets
Walking back heel first
To nowhere to the past

and so i find time to redo this blog. since louiebelle suggested that i try wordpress for a clean categorizing of entries and i am making this entry a drawing board for that. this will be my guide to a monkey-eating-internet epdisode. i am now online and surfing for tactics so... let the embarassment begin.

notes

• what in the world is wordpress? or wait, does blogger support wordpress?

• this is pretty emba-harassing. the title really suites a moroon like me. :) *wants to get back in the cave*

• wysiwyg??? is it edible?

• my point here is i only want to categorize my entries!!! God is still better than anyone else, he's just a prayer away but the blogger support group will still filter my email and then i'll wait for a reply?

• i am now in doubt and getting impatient if blogger supports wordpress. i also searched in blogger's wysiwyg editing format about setting up categories but it remains a mystery. *calls robert langdon for codes*

• haha! i see a light at the end of the cave! so first i have to go to my FTP tab because according to wordpress i should have an FTP server.

• now how can i run my own FTP server? this wordpress is complicated. :(

• i am now searching for blogger templates because (full flashback);

i was on my usual mantra last night atop the honden of infinite rage when i asked louiebelle about committing to blogging. she said, "there are a lot more important stuff to do than blogging. though it is important, it's not more important than other important things."

i agree with the redundancy.

blogging is a only an object that we look on to almost everyday. but this mirror is essential coz sometimes what we don't see through the mirrors that people reflect on us, we see them clearly by the scribbles of our making. and so i move to looking for blogger templates with categories than learning wordpress coz i still have more important-important things to do aside from making this blog more simply-sophisticated and blogging to know myself more? what a freak. (which can take a lot of freetime in a lifetime, and basically it sounds so lame, doesnt it? asking yourself again seigfred?)

i am now sending a mysterious IR from my mind to this monitor to call on the blogger community that has had more time doing blogs than me. help. what shal i dooooo mutaaaants?

postnotes:

• wysiwyg - what-you-see-is-what-you-get teehee

• running a server will include cruel html for blogging newbies like me

• happy weekend :)
  

i left that entry down there unedited to remind me of how silly i can become while having a nerve-wracked testosterone, insulin and in a rush. thanks to this blog i realize how thinking too deep and too much makes one's fungal infected head get more lice.

*scratch scratch*

i want to redo this blog. give it a more flashy look, or at least find a non-constipated template, unlike this one, make sections; of rants (what do you call it? sectionize?), work related posts, other blah-blahs and whatnots. plans. plans. plans. and le me slide it down to the thought of "i don't have time for this and that". talking about time management. when you can exactly do anything as long as you have it listed on your daily log of activities. its not about "you dont have time", its about finding ways on how to slip a thin paper on a tight paper stack. a more productive you. being time-resourceful. like for today, here are the remaining must-do's i have in my mental list 1pm onwards:

1. finish doing a sample of radio plugs for a new promo
-mechanics plug
-prizes plug
-teaser plug
-sample of an on-air promo process

i think hmmm i can do this in 2 hours, 30 minutes per plug, hopefully

2. present those plugs to client

and this includes time spent going to their office, presentation time and going whereto after that

expecting a wednesday spar against a cruel makati traffic, an interested client, and being with schlamoo after 3 hours

3. superman

if i can do all that i can relate with superman more. :)

now back to what i was talking about on the first paragraph, i can't deny it i can be nostalgic all the time if i want to, and i am very much emotional. But thank God for his genius i am pragmatic at the same time. hence, i am your emo-sherlock-emo dude. therefore, if nostalgia attacks i think and think about what i feel and it eats a lot of my time. evidence #001 is available down there, the entry before this. isn't investigating emo stuff a gateway to paranoia? nahhh nevermind. i should get back to that time management slash productive thoughts.

if you happen to be reading until here, i ask for thy kindness to leave me tips on how make this blog more interesting. :) just like your blog. and your link too! and if no one's reading this blog, thanks. i'm saved from shame.

yup i am hoping that this will be the last metaphor-loaded entry i will write

for now

after digging in too much and too deep in the murky waters of my mud-filled cerebelum, i banged into this thick metal ball of my old self. yup, i was a big brass ball before. and for some forgotten reason that metal ball had flowers blooming all over its iron-hard shell. as i was asking myself why i couldn't figure out why in the world a posy in technicolor had to grow on me?

the moment you share a part of yourself to someone, that someone becomes a part of you.

you can't just block other people's personality espeially when both of you has found each other in the same plateu or even not. this people eat people world has become so incredibly sociological that getting away from it is losing your humanity and turning the other way around will let you eventually lose the solid, hardcore in and out you and just for a few sunlights, you have a bouquet growing on your outer core. and it is by and through you that its there. and some people would say, it looks good on you though you have thought of it as something not you at all. in this context, i hate flowers. i can also relate flowers to sensitivity but that's another fully connected story that might strain my office time.

as of this period of my existence i am melting the metal ball that is me to lose the whatsoever botany that was attached there. and hereafter i am promising this blog a visitor-friendly, anti-metaphor, goodness! my boss is here.

i'd like to stop until here to avoid a nosegay of sorts and yup, the office's big bear needs a bear hug.

note to self:

as allan qouted in your richard garfield sessions, we are a patriarchal society so... ill give this entry a 10 for gayness. and edit this in your free time.

and so i live again...

what are the basis of living, why do we live, what are the reasons and where are we heading to is the usual question that i ask myself if i've taken too much alcohol, cough syrup, and other amphetamines or i am craving for them. but since the moment i realized how one can get high by being sober i stopped. now i find myself sewing a conversation in my head with such "stereotypes". most of the people i know consider those as trivial. they, including me, wouldnt want to hear it from another table because of the phrase "get a life". borrowing from a famous gas company tagline, and a question raised from a sleepy coffee table:

what drives you?

i'll give that a shot tomorrow.

*wears helmet, shovels and shovels in deep for an excavation of thoughts. metal thoughts.*

a month ago i had this death consciousness,

and yesterday...

the flowers that bloomed during what was once morning celebrations are now thrown 6 feet below the ground bouncing on a portrait of my face in a 12X12 inch frame. my eyes are shut but i can see images of the people that i've walked along before. their eyes, as black as what they are wearing, spilled tears that floated to the heavens. from this blackbox i can hear choked cries, untold stories, exfoliated secrets, and some that i should only hear through a whisper. then as if by an unseen wave of hand, the light folds and darkness scatters...

...i died. the last thing i saw was a single candlelight and a crying orb.

meanwhile, a cry of a newborn is scuttling through the whole of me.

happy birthday to me and oh how frugal this day is. what makes me feel that a birthday is special is, eversince i stopped celebrating it with baloons and cakes i try so hard to just treat it as any other day. so that's a little more than ordinary. just like a sleepy december 24th. i am not making any sense. bear with the birthday boy.

and so i receive this annual award, go up the lectern, bask on the spotlight of this auditorium and say my thank you's.

Thank You God.

that's all. thank you. hmmmm..actually not that short though coz again, as much as i treat this as just an ordinary day, i wouldn't want to be an ungrateful grunt. so God who is in heaven here are the things that i want to thank you and you alone.

MUSIC.
thank you for

Maristela Olmoguez, yes, her name is so ugly. thank you for her it-ness, thank you for making her hide the guitar from my drooling hands then, because of that i became a thief of time, space and strings, curling on a dark storage room strumming the oh so forbidden guitar.

Jesse, the drums sensei. yes sir, 2 quarter notes on the base, followed by snare while doing steady 8th notes on the clapper.

Rolen, your first song really sucks big time that i told myself i can make a song too!

Chop, scales on bass, passion for music like an endless chord progression.

Christine, if we were of the same age and you are not my aunt, i could have married you. ok back to octaves and do re mi. thank God for your busted Casio keyboards. and your husband will always be ogrish to me.

Nelson, you are the most agressive band director this earth will have. aggressive on telling me to blow. faggot! *blows and blows trumpet*

Sharon, because of you i loved and could have learned the saxophone if i didn't fall in love with you.

Toby Mac, Kevin Max, Micheal Tait and DCtalk. even though you dont know that i exist i still love you guys. with all my heart, soul and mind. but i dont want to exchange spouses with you. your wives are old. if you go here in the Philippines i'll kidnap you. Filipino = kidnapper. get the idea?

and thank you God for every note that i hear. shall i elaborate? dripping of saliva is on e minor, air out of the nostrils is on G#, ok. il stop.

PEOPLE.
thanks for

Teen Theater Company, Stage One, Little Theater and its Red D. basic acting and curtain pulling at the same time. if i didn't go for that audition 10+ years ago i could've been a basketball player reeking of moolahhhh. yeah thanks for that! now im a hopeless romantic, sentimental harry potter and in radio. boy this life is exciting. and now after this what?

Negros Summer Workshops and Peque Gallaga. theater improvs, being by Eric Morris, Film Production and Lore Reyes, and a swollen bladder. at least i know how to fake a lot. but i am such a good creature to do something like that! on the other hand...hmmmm nevermind. thank you for letting me see stomas on clouds. how did you do that? and how could you do that to me? i just wanted to till land and grow rootcrops! now all i have is this cellphone with a poor camera. thanks for telling me that film is not for poor people like me. Lord, i am reading Purpose Driven Life now.

Palanca and Cirilo Bautista, similemetaphorallusionpersonificationhyperboleandalotofstuffthathaslinebreaks
iamarebelandiwantedtobelikeleiseecummingstoo.
freaks!

Shiloh Christian Fellowship and Pastor Oscar. thank you for making me feel guilty all the time.

West Visayas State University, College of Mass Communication, Diamante con Morga, and nene. thanks for letting me know oh Lord that i can love as much and can drift away from it. i can't write anymore of those memories but, you know where this train of thought will lead me. since i am thanking you dear God and i am confident that you know what is in my heart and what is on the end of my veins. let me not acupuncture them with the grass-fresh smell of wvsu's football field.

Kas-es,francis, stick, and nick and everybody else. thank you for allowing us to have a network of friends because later in life we will invite them to invest their effort, time and money to make us rich. Lord, you know that i don't love money and money alone is not the root of all evil. the LOVE of money is. thank you for letting me read that verse in the bible and let me not be an italian.

RMN and IFM, bruno banana, van o, vince j and fred davis, thanks for them i am earning money and exploited.

Highifber and Luis, thank you for my evolution from a chimp that is in awe of the colors of microsoft word to being a neanderthal on creating http links. and for Lei.

thank you for these people that made a living out of this life. Lord, though this is intrestingly miserable-enjoyable, I want to see how good looking i am when i reach 60. this creation of your artful nature wants to see what Australia looks like. and even if i can't go there let me just smell my wrinkled old skin mixed with the wind of 30 years from now on our window pane in iloilo. Lord, can i not die?

LOVE.
thank you Jesus for

Family. yes we are a wreck. that satan creature is really working his ass out. but he can't destroy what is essential and invisible to the eye i presume? he is so old, can he die instead?

Extended family. thank you for making me a Filipino though i presume again that not all Filipinos are thankful like me. i mean in an extended family you can let nieces of your cousins fetch you water for bath. i am very much grateful i was born before them.

Friends. hmmm God, where are they?

Jessica. though i hate her, thanks for making her beautiful that my high school org didn't even had a clue that she was older than me seven years. thanks for letting me know that age doessnt matter. and for my first very serious heartbreak. thanks for giving her a baby and not making her fat neither taller.

Freya. thanks for giving her a Sudanese boyfriend. she deserves that. if you allow me to go back in time i promise to court her mom instead.

Lord why i am broadcasting names here in the net? do i sound like an ass?

hmmm ok.

LJ. thanks for making her intelligent coz if she isn't, i would still be in college right now. thanks for making me break up with her and letting me experience what it feels to love a lot of women at the same time. now i know that i should stick to one. and tell my father that he should too. it feels way better than getting confused perpetually.

EGA. Lord, thanks for EGA. She was one hell of a ride. my life wouldn't be a life without letting me experience her life. though we are in different roads now i hope she won't fold coz she told me she was with you now. i am eager to talk to her again for like 10 years from now. thanks for her. she is one of the most wonderful things that happened to me.

Louie. now if you happen to survive this insanity and you are reading until now, this sacred part of this conversation with God is between me and him. excuse me please. *prays* :)

thank you God for yet another year. Amen.

enough of the metaphors. this time i will be more conversational. let me reverberate the words that formed a drum of ancient earwax in my clean-free ear for the past 20 plus years of my life.

20 years ago...

"read! read! read!"
"sing for us! sing for us!"
"wake up. i left 20 pesos on your bedside table and drink your milk, don't go to the beach. bye."
"why do you always want to sleep in your mamang's house?"
"do-re-mi-fa-sol-la-ti-do. next octave."
"you know what to do after dinner right? wash the di-shes"
"why do you always debate your religion teacher?"
"enough of the guitar! eat!"
"why is it that when you kiss your sunday school teacher you always have that naughty smirk on your face?"
"wake up! wake up! wake up! remember each rose needs a pailful of water for bigger flowers to bloom."
"stay.this is only for old people."
"i can't believe that your pops has yet another woman."
"come here. *hugs and kisses*"

10 years ago...

"^&%#$ *^$@# @! *&$"
"why are you always late?"
"study earnestly, so you can buy yourself whatever you want"
"you were the last one on the drums, where is the drumstick?"
"tension and release"
"its ROTC always, Respect, Openess, Trust and Care"
"you better stop on that theater org. you always come home late"
"hello? prayer chain this friday? see you there."
"is it just coincidence again? why is it that whenever you have a problem you eat a lot."
"let them be if it makes them happy"
"i hope your pops is not a hopeless case"
"come here *avoid and cover punches and kicks*"

5 years ago...

"more beer?"
"what if we see a dufflebag full of money?"
"go home."
"you've changed a lot."
"this guy is crazy!"
"what do you think?"
"why are we born poor?"
"not everyone thinks like you"
"i love you."
"last stick."
"Always pray for your pops."

now...







i have yet to gather more as i draw the line next week. until now, that's as far as i can hear the voices in my head. i remember a theater exercise called memory recall, and i tell you it's not that easy hearing voices on the ears of your head. i'll stop now before i stealth this infliction with metaphors.

i die numerous times everyday:
exhaling my soul to a dancing of a gray lifeless smoke. rendering my brain to a halt as i look to the void of the corporate window. opening my eyes to a green brick road that starts and circles back to where it came from, under my bed.

forced agreements on papaer torn. homemade swords. blood on dead leaves. cries reaching to the careless moon. a century ago slaughter of starved hope and skin-wrapped bones.

it could be like that four years ago if i have looked at it as a revolution. but i was static like a rock, thrown in a pond. under the water i was sedimented by unseen currents. until a lily laid a seed that gracefully fought the currents and embraced my solid surface. its little fingers found its way to my core and nested roots that broke my hard pieces until i beacame a member of its veins. we stemmed to the surface. we dictated the flow of the current. we painted leaves on the hollow of air. we bloomed a scent that melted the clouds.

now i see the light of the sun again.

i should live to die some other deaths. i should wage revolutions that is like 100 years ago from yesterday. this year's independence day had a face that wanted to look like today. i am free.

It’s not all about me.

Much of what we do point to ourselves. Though the people that shared their lives with us, made us. We forget those that reared our thoughts and tendencies, those who were ahead that stepped back to lead us closely, and those that denied their way to follow us, even then, we still live on the axis that we made their world revolve.

For we are all are like thin strands of a well-knitted garb. Those who don’t conform to the strong bind usually snaps and ruins the beauty of the garment-of-a-world in which we are closely weaved. As invisible as the soul, the thread that pulls us together can’t get loose even if we lose contact by will or otherwise.

It’s time for me to lose myself.

Let me dive on the waves of eyes that I meet in a crowd. Let me be blown by the breathing of those who also wait of what this life will bring. Let me be a servant to the kindness of those who also offer their tribute to the Giver of all.

I am giving myself to the batch of this generation. Let my will die and create this life with others. This life is not all about me.