SILVERBOLT [kaarawan]

What the--? I just woke up and I'm nineteen already? And what's worse, I'm still single. Man, I sound like my friend who claims that the only perk of being single is re-loading his cellphone.

It's my birthday today and I feel tired of writing. So I invited 19 guest bloggers to fill in for me as I celebrate my natal day cleaning our stinking bathroom.

How does "Lagsh in Silverbolt" sound,for one? He may be temporarily 'excommunicated' in Visionary, but not in my site! Wow. That's one helluva blatant plugging..:P

Enjoy!

Jaypee

editor-in-chief, and walking bank account

Si Silbervolt,Bow

didiretsahin ko na, this is what people do not know much about jeri: sa totoo lang, and i mean sa totoong totoo lang, hindi mahirap intindihin si jeri. at least for me.

di nga, hindi ako nag-jo-joke.

minsang nga lang madrama ang balat neto o di kaya’y butas lagi ang bulsa, pero never mind that, kaibigan ko si jeri, and i’d tell everyone that he’s a real friend.

what i always observe is that hindi lang alam “i-cultivate” ng ibang tao ang potensyal na kaibigang maaari mong matatagpuan kay jeri. he is prone to being easily and judgmentally labeled by some people as someone who is hard to understand and the like. naging stereotype na lang yun sa kanya. but we all know that stereotyping is superficial.

those who say that he is extremely un-understandable are just trying to go with the flow of the majority. a very typical social pettiness indeed.

yes, he has his own frailties and mga “pagkakamali,” but who doesn’t have such anyway? lahat naman ng tao, may imperfection. sa totoo lang, mas marami pa ang may di magagandang ugali sa mga the so-called “the clever ones” or “the likable ones” kaysa sa kanya. kaya pinapayuhan ko na lang itong si jeri na wag na lang intindihin masyado ang mga sinasabi ng ibang tao dahil ke tama o mali ang sasabihin niya, mali pa rin siya madalas sa kanila.

so bakit ka magpapa-apekto? basta ginagawa mo ang tungkulin mo in general––as a student, a family member, a memcom head, a friend, a fan ni ma’am rosel––jeri, you don’t have to worry or feel rubbish. ‘cause in the end, its not between you and what they adversely say; it’s between you and what you’ve done as a person. i tell you, you’re a lot better than to the ones i know.

at dahil bertdey mo, matanda ka na! whaha! sige na, wag mo na bayaran yung utang mo nung induction. libre ko na yon seio.

bagong layout a. finally.

o sige jeri, inaantok na naman ako!

zzzz.

*i spell jerry as “jeri” kasi tipid ng two letters. at oo jeri alam ko, mali ang spelling ng ‘silbervolt.’ eto ang explanation: after pressing L while typing ‘silbervolt,’ L is nearer to B than V. and, after pressing R on the keyboard, R is nearer to V than B. try mo man.

Rey

matinik na tsikboy

~~Kuya Jerry~~

Jerry was my first pal that I've met in the University. It was in the freshmen orientation where we first met. Since then, we became close friends. We ventured orgs together and became good companions. I remember that I perceived him then as an older brother because of his advancement in age. But after spending few years with him, I realized that this guy seemed to be more childish than me.

Besides his childish actions, I see him now as a great achiever in his org and his studies. I'm proud of him because it's been a year since we entered the University but he has already achieved a lot. Regardless of the problems that seem to surround him all year long, he still manages to gain strengths from them and excel in his desired positions. As I can see, God really is blessing him, and He really never lets His eye out of this guy. I'm happy to have such a friend for he really is a great inspiration for me. His being hardworking motivates me to do the same as well. I know that he'll be meeting more challenges in life as he advances a year older. But I believe he'll surpass by it all for he has a strong character and has a strong faith in God.

Ten

crush,crush,and crush

how i found God in making my website

"be glad of life, because it gives you the chance to love, and to work, and to play, and to look at the stars."

when we were 4 or 5 year-olds, imagining God was fairly easy. we just look up to the heavens and imagine him sitting there, always watching over us.

during those times, all we have to do was wake up, eat, play and sleep. we never really had to worry about anything. life was that simple.

at that young age, we know God as the one who has a halo on his head and a beard on his face. he's the one wearing a long dress and leather sandals.

as we grow up, things change. as a teenager, we care more about our assignments, our projects, our love letters, our pimples. and as we grow older, we'll begin to care just about anything - our salary, our credit cards, our future. things become more complicated.

and after each birthday, we begin to picture God in different ways - the one we call when we're in need, the one we hold on to when we're down, and many other things. admit it or not, imagining God was never that easy.

as i was making my website, i saw God in a different light - in a bad light, to be specific.God 'suffered' every negative thing i had to say. i cursed him for not giving me the talent to do this.(ohh, this may be an exaggeration.) honestly, i poured all my anger and frustation on him.

well, how can you expect me not to act that way? imagine that you're already finished and all. all you have to do is upload the files. then suddenly, a warning flashes on the screen saying you're diskette is infected with virus. the quarantine process begins and you lost everything. you come back to your place to retrieve the files, just to find out that your own computer had just crashed. and all your back-up files are also not accessible when you're uploading them. just imagine that. aren't you going to freak out?!!!

but as i was feeling the hell of everything, something miraculous happened. unbelievably, in such 'hell,' i found God.

in the most unexpected time of my life, i saw him. i saw him through another person, and that's no other than my professor for this course.

the last option i can think of that time was to call him and asked for an extension. i had to start all over again. i was beginning to lose hope, but God was good. he saved me. i was allowed to finish this site 11 am the next day.

truly, God never failed to surprise me. he was just right there, but i was too blind to see. he disguised himself at that moment and his being a professor stopped me from feeling his presence.

i think, i need to shed a number of years of my age. how i wish i can be a five year-old again. and maybe then, i can again see him clearly.

Maya

my adopted sistah

for you

on january 30, 2004, at around 7pm, i wrote:

this is for you.

i can't look up. the world does not permit me to.
i can't reach out. the strings do not allow me to.
what is there left to do?
i look down.
i look down and hard.
i look down and hard and see.
you.

there are some things i may not know and understand.
but i definitely understood the way you looked yesterday.
there's a lot going on.
you just can't seem to cope up.
i'm hoping that when you come out of this,
you can look back and not regret anything.
i will pray for you.
that's the only way i see i can help.
my words will not comfort you.
as everyone else will be saying what i would be saying.
even if i'm the only one who actually means it,
amidst all of them.
i'm sorry for what you're going through.
i really am.
but you are a good person
. and i believe in you.

today:

i turn away from the stares.
i pry myself free of the strings.
i know what to do.
i look down.
only so i can look up again.

for a moment there, i admit, i gave up trying to understand you.

you became a burden, so i ignored you.

but i learned more.

and i tried again.

now.

i still mean it.

i still believe in you.

sorry kung disappointing! naiiyak na ko. :'(

ingat lang palagi, dude.

oh, and call out if you need anything. lam mo naman, andito lang palagi.

peace out.

[maya]

Mau

ate,kaibigan, at kamag-anak mi Isagani

In Silence

I sit in your silence scared,

waiting patiently for recognition.

For a word.

For a breath.

For a touch.

But I am raw.

Because I watch your hands instead of writing,

and listen for your breath instead of breathing.

It's strange how close to you I feel.

And the need I have to help you,to make you smile.

And yet, I'm still here waiting, for you to let me in.

Darlene

bookworm,friend,uplifter

I shall live forever

I'm not the fount of original ideas. There are people who seem to be though, and my favorite author, C.S. Lewis, is one of them (though even he denies it. He said: "We rearrange elements [God] has provided. There is not a vestige of real creativity de novo in us.")

Maybe he's right. I think it's just that there are people who are better at putting words together - words that so precisely describe what has been at the tips of our tongues since we opened our eyes and looked upon the World.

This, for example (my apologies, C.S. Lewis again):

"For we are so little reconciled to time that we are even astonished at it. 'How he's grown!' we exclaim, 'How time flies!' as though the universal form of our experience were again and again a novelty. It is as strange as if a fish were repeatedly surprised at the wetness of water. And that would be strange indeed; unless of course the fish were destined to become, one day, a land animal."

When I first read that, I was so astounded that I pestered all my friends, reading it to them over and over again. "See," I would argue, "we ARE destined to become, one day, immortal..."

Let me rephrase that. We ARE immortal. I have no doubt of that. This world has become alien to me. Here, goldfish are flushed down the toilet, milk gets sour, planes crash, people get sent to gas chambers. Where I belong, I shall live forever.

(Happy birthday, Jerry. So shall you.)

Lagsh

peyups.com columnist,jepi's bro, and future ~~bold~~ star(joke lang!)

Anak ni Lagsh

May medyo gumugulo sa isipan ko. Naiisip ko na lang basta ang tungkol sa magiging anak ko sa hinaharap: saang field ko siya i-o-orient para makahiligan ito hanggang pagtanda? Ayaw ko sa sports kasi kung walang game, wala siyang kuwenta. I-incline ko siguro siya sa singing, para kung sakaling buhay pa ang mga televised na singing contests sa panahong tinedyer na ang anak ko, puwedeng-puwede. Pero iba ang kuwento kung sa rock music ko siya i-i-incline. Mas astig para sa akin ang magkaroon ng anak na miyembro ng isang banda.

Sakaling sa mabuting palad ay dumapo sa anak kong lalaki ang guwapong dugo na dumadaloy sa dugo ng lahi ng aking ama, aba'y ite-train ko na ang bata ko para sa showbiz. Tuturuan ko siya kung paano maging vain. Wala akong paki kahit metrosexual siya paglaki, basta gusto ko guwapo siya at maging habulin ng mga tsik. Hehe. Ganun naman madalas eh. Ang frustration mo ay ayaw mong mangyari sa anak mo. Tapos gusto ko, kung buhay pa ang Starstruck o Star Circle Quest, mag-o-audition siya.

Huwag nang puro academics. Ayoko siyang gawing henyo o something near to it. Ako nga, tuwing sinasabihan akong henyo raw ako, sasabihin ko, "Right. I'm unfortunately a genius."

Pero, teka, bago anak ang pag-isipan ko, siguro ang asawa muna.

Liezl

paul, xymon, garcia

Dear Jerald,

O ayan, dahil 19 ka na and you want your name to sound like one of a grown-up, from now on, Jerald na itatawag ko sa'yo. You said your posting daw in your blog some messages from 19 people who have touched your life. Tama ba 'yun? And surprisingly, kasama pala ko sa kanila. Plastik ha! Joke! Seryoso? Pano ko naman "na-touched" ang life mo?

I think I have an idea na. In fact, mejo madami nga pala ko nagawa for you. Wait, let me recall those things you should definitely thank me for. (HAHA! Manumbat ba?)

Aha! Here they are:

1. Classmates tayo nun sa Math 11. We share the same class din with Adan, Gretel and Danilo. Oooops, Damien na pala. Look, people develop their aesthetic sense. At Jerald, dahil sa sobrang bibo mo sa klase na 'yun, mejo annoyed na ang mga friends natin (if you've had noticed). Anong papel ko nun? Well, dakilang sponge ng kwento at angst mo! hehe!

2. Dahil lagi ka sumasabay sa'kin paalis sa Math bldg. and I was always bound to CMC then, particularly sa UJP tambayan, naisipan kong iintorduce kita sa mahal na mahal nating org.

3. Kung natatandaan mo pa nung sobrang galit ka sa mundo at nagkataong nalaman mong may phone pala ako sa bahay, nagdrama ka at the expense of my beauty-rest period. hehe! Oks lang yun. It turned out na ako pala ang mas maraming problema nung time na yun kesa sa'yo. Good adviser ka rin naman pala minsan eh.

Tama na nga ito, kasi kahit madami pa akong gusto i-spill, baka instead na matuwa ka ay magalit ka pa sa'kin.

Gusto ko lang ulitin na you should thank me for bringing you along with me one lonely, rainy, boring afternoon sa tambayan at pinilit-pilit ka na mag-apply. Right? Don't you think that decision of yours (ang mag-apply) has drastically changed your life?

I think it did.

Ayan, sabi ni Jp dapat daw mala-testi lang ito kaya I will stop here na. Hope you have a fun birthday! Mejo ii-ego-massage lang kita ha, I think you are a very smart person, not basing on your grades and ka-bibo-han alone; pati na rin sa personal convos. Kaya clear yourself of the habit of whining na kesyo you're not good enough to be his/her/their friend kasi you feel inferior. That's not true. Sometimes, we all just have to look beyond our biases, Jerry, I mean Jerald. You just have to be sensitive. Slice the cake in a way that everybody's fingers are safe. Kaya isip muna maigi before making moves.

And please, sa mga problema mo, try to attack their core.

For your problem in seeking happiness: Most people are as happy as they make up their mind to be.

Happy birthday ulit! Take care of your health, dude. God bless!

Twinkle

ROTC NCO,Journ Dept. SA, and spiritual adviser

happy happy , Jerald

I raise to God all your concerns, worries, dreams, everything! In case you need a friend, I'm just here.

Click here: The Ultimate Sacrifice

Irish

UJP Ad Hoc officer, Chua-ble, and not-from-Ireland

24 hours

Nakatunganga ang computer. Blangko ang screen. Walang laman. Ang keyboard ay naghihintay na makiliti ng aking mga daliri. Ang mouse ay naiirita na dahil wala pa rin siyang silbi. Wala pang ginagawa. Nagrereklamo na ang swivel chair sa bigat ko at nahihilo na siya sa kaiikot ko sa kanya. Lahat sila’y kanina pa naghihintay, mga isang oras na.

Parang ako. Blangko rin, walang ginagawa at kanina pa naghihintay na may maisip.
Hay…

Isang linggo na akong binabagabag ng tanong na ito. Kung tutuusin, madali lang naman sana itong sagutan. Pero hindi. Bakit ba? Siguro dahil ayaw ko pa talagang mag-isip o ayaw ko pang harapin at sagutan ang tanong na ito.

Ano raw ba ang aking gagawin kapag nalaman kong 24 oras na lang ang nalalabi sa aking hiram na buhay?

Nakakagimbal, ano? Paano kung ngayon mismo tatanungin ako ng Diyos ng ganyan? Baka magtatatakbo na lang ako o kaya tumunganga na naman. Tapos, sasabihan ko ang aking sarili na hindi iyon totoo. Guni-guni ko lamang iyon. Ayoko ko pang mamatay. Hindi pa ako mamamatay. Wala pa akong balak mamatay.

At sino ba sa akala ko ang meron? Lahat naman siguro ng tao gusto pang mabuhay nang matagal-tagal. Pero hindi nga. Paano nga kung tatanugin ako ng Diyos? Handa na kaya ako?

Ewan. Hindi pa siguro. Marami pa akong gustong gawin, gaya ng tapusin ang akdang ito. Kaya sa ayaw ko’t sa gusto, kailangan ko nang mag-isip anong gagawin ko pag 24 oras na lang ang tagal ko sa mundong ibabaw.

Pero bago ang lahat, gusto ko munang itakda ang oras kung kailan magsisimula ang huling 24 oras ko. Ipagpalagay na lang natin na bandang ika-lima ng umaga iyon at ako ay nasa kwarto ko sa probinsya, mahimbing na natutulog.

Unang-una kong gagawin, siyempre, ay ibubuka ang namimigat ko pang mga talukap. Babangon ako at haharap sa may silangan kung saan makikita ko ang kakagising din na araw. Pagkatapos, uusal ako ng pasasalamat sa Panginoon sa mga biyayang aking natanggap at sa pagbibigay Niya sa akin ng pagkakataong malaman na ang araw na iyon ang huling araw ko na sa mundo.

Datapwat malungkot ang kaalamang iyon, magpapasalamat pa rin ako kasi, sabi nga ni Morrie Schwartz, nabigyan ako ng pagkakataong itama ang mali pati na rin ang pagkakataong magpaalam.

Pagkatapos, magliligpit na ako ng kama. Pupunta ako ng banyo, maghihilamos at magsesepilyo. Aalis ako ng bahay at maghahanap ng sariwang bulaklak na ilalagay ko sa mesang nasa silid ng aking mga magulang. Matagal ko na kasing gustong gawin ito – alayan sila ng bulaklak na may kasamang card na pambati - pag isa sa kanila ang may kaarawan o kaya naman ay wedding anniversary nila. Kaya lang nauunahan ako ng hiya. Hindi kasi ako sanay na magpakita ng saloobin.

Susunod ko namang gagawin ay ihanda ang hapag-kainan para sa agahan naming mag-anak. Nakagawian na naming kumain nang sabay-sabay tuwing 6:30. Pagkatapos niyan ay maghuhugas naman ako ng pinggan. Si nanay (tawag ko sa aking tiyahin) kasi ang parating gumagawa niyon. Siya ang tagaluto at tagahugas. Siya rin ang taga-alaga o yaya naming magkakapatid mula pa noong paslit kami. Tapos na niya kaming alagaan. Kaya ngayon, siya naman ang dapat kong pagsilbihan.

Maglilinis ako pagkatapos maghugas ng pinggan. Magsisimula ako sa kisame ng ikalawang palapag ng bahay hanggang sa sahig ng unang palapag. Iaayos ko ang mga damit at gamit sa lahat ng kabinet. Pupunasan ko rin ang mga jalousies pati na rin ang sahig. Itatagilid ko ang mga kama para mawalisan ko ang bahaging natatabunan nito. Samakatuwid, general cleaning ang gagawin ko sa bahay gaya ng parati ko nang ginagawa pag wala akong ibang magawa o mapagdiskitahan.

Sa sapantaha ko, buong umaga ang gugugulin ko sa paglilinis. Kaya pagkatapos niyon, magpapahinga muna ako sandali, maliligo at maghihintay na lang ng tawag para sa pananghalian.

Matapos kumain, magboboluntaryo akong magbantay ng tindahan ng lola ko. Matanda na rin kasi siya at kailangan niya ng pahinga. Siguro, mga isang oras lang naman ako magbabantay tapos aalis na ako para tatawag at makipagchikahan sa mga friendly friends ko.

Hindi naman ako masyadong naglalakwatsa kasi taong-bahay talaga ako. Ngunit sa pagkakataong ito, lulubus-lubusin ko na ang 24 oras para makipagkwentuhan sa aking mga kaibigan at mga kakilala na rin. Hindi ko alam kung ano ang magiging topic ng aming usapan. Siguro may mga pahihingi ng patawad kung meron man akong nasaktan o pagpapatawad sa mga taong nakasakit sa akin.

Matapos ‘yon, uuwi na ako ng bahay. Kukuha ako ng mga gamit pang-garden at magtatanim ako ng kahoy, kahit ano, pero kung pwede yong tatagal ng mahaba-habang panahon. Bakit? Para naman may remebrance ako. Para maalala nila ako kahit wala na ako sa paningin nila. Tapos ihahabilin ko ang pag-aalaga niyon sa aking mga pamangkin.

Sa sapantaha ko na naman, matatapos ko lahat ng aking gagawin ng bandang ika-anim ng gabi. Maliligo na lang ako at maghihintay ng ilang minuto para sa daily rosary namin. Gawi na rin ng aming pamilya na magdasal bawat araw, bukod pa iyan sa pagsisimba. Hindi kasi masyadong relihiyoso ang mga magulang ko.

Sa nakagawian, matapos magdasal ay kakain na kami ng hapunan. Pagkatapos naman, makikinood muna ako ng teleserye kasama nila kahit hindi naman ako mahilig doon. Sabi ko pa nga, divorce na kami ng tv. Subalit dahil ganoon na talaga ang routine sa bahay, makikisama na lang ako. Huling gabi ko naman iyon kapiling nila.

Matapos manood, magpapaalam na ko sa kanila. Aakyat na ako sa pinakatuktok na bubong ng bahay kung saan makikita ko ang sangkalangitan at sangkalupaan. Dala-dala ko roon ang isang librong matagal ko nang gusto ngunit wala akong panahong basahin – ang bibliya. Hindi ko alam kung anong chapter o verse ang babasahin ko. Basta kung ano ang mabubuklat, ‘yon na.

Dalawa o tatlong oras siguro ang ilalagi ko sa bubong. Mag-star gazing muna ako. Doon ko na rin gagawin ang huling tula at sulat ko para sa aking mga magulang at kapatid. Kung ano man ang laman ng tula at sulat na iyon ay hindi ko pa alam. Tapos, bababa na ako.

Nasa ikalawang palapag lang naman ang mga silid-tulugan namin kaya pagkababa ko mula sa bubong, didiretso ako sa silid ng mga magulang at kapatid ko at ilalagay ko sa kanilang mga mesa ang aking akda. Titingnan ko sila habang sila’y mahimbing na natutulog at hahagkan isa-isa sa noo sa una at huling pagkakataon. Pagkatapos, pupunta na ako sa aking kwarto.

Magpapatugtog ng malumanay na musika (In the Arms of An Angel ni Sarah MacLachan) at maghahanda para matulog. Bago ko ipikit ang aking mga mata, magpapasalamat ako uli sa Diyos sa lahat ng ibinigay niya sa akin. Tapos, lights off na.

Kirk

gastroboy, friend,and orgmate

Si Jerry ay...

Isang bata na ayaw bumitaw sa kanyang kamusmosan.

Ang bibo-bibo niya kahit sobra na nakakahiya ang kanyang sitwasyon.

Ang gulo-gulo niya at palaging hindi mapakali.

Ang hilig-hilig niyang magbigay ng korning joke.

Parang grade 1.

Ang ingay-ingay niya palagi lalo na kung lahat ng tao ay seryoso at problemado.

Ang asar-asar niyang tao lalo na kapag problemado siya.

Ang tanda-tanda na niya pero mahilig pa rin siya sa mga comics, sa cartoons at sa anime.

Pero kahit na ganito siya, maituturing mo siyang isang kapatid. Sa sitwasyon ko, isang nakakabatang kapatid.

Kahit na bibo-bibo siya, marami naman siyang pwedeng mapagmalaki. The looks and the brains. Kahit na gulo-gulo siya, alam naman niyang i-lugar. Kahit na ang hilig-hilig niya sa korning joke, bumebenta naman. Kung minsan. Hehehe!

Kahit and ingay-ingay niya lalo na kung lahat ng tao ay seryoso at problemado, nag-iingay siya para buhayin ang mga nalalatang isipan at damdamin nila, lalong lalo na sa UJPips.

Kahit na asar-asar niyang tao kung problemado siya, normal lang naman iyon, di ba? Hindi ba tayong lahat? Kahit tanda-tanda na niya pero mahilig pa rin siya sa mga comics, anime at cartoons, ako rin naman. Hindi kaya lahat ng mga gen-X, na lumaki sa piling ng X-men at ng Bio-men?

Kaya, ‘tol, ngayong madadagdagan naman ng isang taon ang buhay mo, sana panatilihin mo ang mga aspeto ng sarili mo na alam mong makakabuti sa iyo bilang isang lalaki at nilalang ng mundong ito.

Alam mo na ang mga bagay na iyon.

Isa ka sa mga taong kakilala ko na kinakarir ang introspection.

God bless you.

Erika

buddy,buddy,buddy!

Happy birthday buddy!

I appreciate your invitation to be one of the 19 contributors for your birthday edition. But because of time constraint, I can’t come up with something original. So I condensed a portion of John Powell’s book, why am I afraid to tell you who I am? It may not be original, but it’s sincere. Hope you like it.

THE HUMAN CONDITION

“I am afraid to tell you who I am, because, if I tell you who I am, you may not like who I am, and it’s all that I have.”

By protecting ourselves from further vulnerability, we tend to form patterns of action and reaction. These patterns eventually become so self-deceptive that we forfeit all sense of identity and integrity. We act “roles,” wear “masks,” and play “games.” Games defeat self-knowledge and destroy all possibility of honest self-communication with others.

It helps very much to be aware of our patterned reactions—the games we play. If we become aware of these games, we may give them up.

Being honest with one’s self is no easy matter, because it involves letting one’s repressed emotions rise to recognition for what they really are. I must ask myself some difficult questions about the patterns of action and reaction and what these patterns reveal to me about myself. (e.g., Do I subconsciously develop problems in order to get attention? Am I using other people as conquests to provide a transfusion of life for my limping ego?)

What you and I really need is a moment of truth and a habit of truth with ourselves. We have to ask ourselves in the quiet, personal privacy of our own minds and hearts: What games do I play? What is it that I am trying to hide? What is it that I hope to win?

My willingness to be honest with myself and these questions will be the decisive factor and the essential condition for growth as a person.

Martha

Luis Teodoro's niece, Jaypee's buddy, Jerry's ex-...applicant

May mga tala pag araw

I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me… phil 4:13

May mga tala pag araw
Kala mo nawawala sila
Natatakpan ang kanilang liwanag
Hindi pala

May mga tala sa liwanag
Kailangan lang pansinin
Tinutuunan ng oras
Parang tao
…

Sabi nila tahimik ka daw… Sabi nila undetected ka daw… Tas demanding din… Totoo kaya un?
Hmmmm….
Di ako makapagisip… Natatawa na lang ako. Bat ganon, iba kasi ung nakita ko dati…
Ayan… Pati si weng naaaliw na tuloy…

God bless…
Josh 1:9 … for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go…

Rosanne

natsci 2 secretary. ex-applicant. orgmate...

hello!!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!
hmm... wala akong masabe e...

God bless!!
badet

[pasensya na walang kwenta to!]

Glen

jolly,happy,and...

ARROGANCE…

Thus, my saddened heart begins to mourn,
For a love now spent, which fate has sown
In an unending desire to see beyond
The mystery of a thing called love
I gambled my soul and in return
I lost my chance to have you again…

Let me tell you a story. This happened in the not so distant yesterday that I wish I could just forget. You see, I know of a guy who lives a wacky and funny life, filled with his group of friends who are all crazy about him and his witty punch lines. This person is just really good at breaking the ice on somber moods, finding out what makes others tick, and what makes them laugh, and generally knows how to deal with different personalities.

What’s wrong with him, you might ask me. Well, this friend of mine is not used to falling in love. If he did, it rarely lasts long and he never initiates the first move. Funny, but people say this person has got the looks, the brains and the attitude to make girls swoon and make guys drool, quite literally, if you want. He is so confident and so secure with himself and his circle of friends that he believes falling in love is not a necessity for being happy. He has had his share of pretty girls, but he just never went out on a limb to make a strong relationship work.

One day, he just woke up and realized that something is missing: for a dark emptiness seems to grow deep within him that he couldn’t quite place a finger on. His relationship with his friends seemed to dour and he lacked the luster and energy he normally exudes. I noticed he was not himself, but I was afraid to ask what was wrong.

Then came a time when someone accidentally spilled the beans about falling for him. Well, the person who did the spilling was not bad in the looks department, quite popular and intelligent to boot. The beans spilled were a revelation and a source of constant excitement, mixed with anxiety, tinged with fear. In all his years of committing to on and off relationships that rarely lasts long, he never experienced this particular apprehension: someone of the same sex falling for him.

Again, what’s wrong with that, you ask. Well, the problem with our hero is that he was totally blown away by this new experience that he really got addicted -“sucked in” if you want. He got so engrossed from being shown attention by a guy that he made his first mistake: his ego took the better of him. He just realized that his looks and talents are really what draw people to him that he dumped the poor fellow after leading him on. After that, he got so messed up in his own egotistic and self-centered world that a new kind of evil force took over: One that enveloped his senses from the moment he takes a bath to the time when he goes out and catch the lewd, teasing stares of both men and women. I used to warn him to be careful, but he just kept on.

Next came the sex. Quite amusingly, this guy did not discover the art of fornication out of curiosity. Rather, he stumbled upon sexual delight due to a mad desire to dominate others with his own body. His power grew as he realized he could drive men and women crazy just by staring long at their eyes and lifting the corners of his moistened lips. Quite a tease, if you will, but one thing he realized, he just could not enjoy sex without playing the dominant role.

He would despise himself afterward. But he just went on and lived his immoral life. One time I asked him: “Do you enjoy what you’re doing?” He just smiled and said: “Not really, but Im loving the attention.” We never talked about it again.

Then came the biggest blow. Fate came. Fate was not special in any way, but one thing unforgettable about Fate was his’s eyes. Dark, brooding and spiteful, his eyes would flare anger one moment, and then flash with hot desire, afterwards cooling down to stony black coals. Quite a show. The moment Fate stepped into room the first time they saw each other; Fate was staring hard and long at our hero. Another conquest, he thought. The bastard always wins.

And he did win. After a few weeks of teasing and pretending to be friendly, they were suddenly in each other’s arms, kissing passionately and living a secret life that was really difficult to hide from the world. But they managed to construct a secret world where time stops and only the two of them exists and where there is no tomorrow but was always, always, disappointingly short. His roller coaster social life dwindled to a halt because of Fate. Fate became the center of his world. It was the first time he felt truly content and happy, almost realizing the extent of his mistakes over the men he has tormented with lust, then afterward killed with despair when he left them. For a while, he was almost sorry.

What’s the blow? Fate left. As sudden as the wind sweeps the dust was Fate’s arrival, as quickly as a bubble pinched by a needle was the departure. And so was his heart’s collapse. With no reason at all, A was suddenly gone, the magical world was shattered, along with his soul. He screamed with anguish. He cursed the day he looked at Fate. He found comfort in his friends who all smiled encouragingly and said, “Fate will come back”, while they actually think: “Let go, fool!”

And then the hatred. This was not anybody’s fault. This was his punishment for being such a bastard, for being so sure, cocky, and arrogant. This is his punishment for wearing his heart out on his sleeve and gambling on something that has no certainty. I was laughing at him for his stupidity, while deep inside I wanted to scream at him: “Ignorant bastard! Everything has a price. Even your happiness has a value!” But of course, I pitied him enough already so I shut up.

I heard him say: “It’s not yet over. I’m gonna get Fate back. I never lose. And when I do, he’s gonna regret that he ever flicked those captivating eyelashes over my direction.”

I hated him for that! Still so conceited despite the pain I can see he went through. That is why I want to strangle him. Teach him a lesson. Tell him to shut up. But I can’t. I cant. I just can’t hate him. I want him dead and I want him gone but this was not to be.

Why? I cannot hate myself for long now, could I? I love the supercilious me too much.

---- Toxic poet

 This is a work of fiction. Fate is a figment of the author’s imagination.

Katt

pusa,gupit,lakwatsa

Imbecille Buon A Nulla VIII-XXII: Another Tale from Granny’s Attic
Semi-flash fiction by: kattbummer

The picture is vivid enough that no amount of cringing at the thought could scrape it away: I loved him.

I loved him that no sum of rationalization would suffice. I loved him that I am rather thankful of my goddamn life’s harmonious equilibrium went down the drain. I loved him that being pathetic in the process is but something ordinary.

At the first snap of the idea, he was not an original fraction of the game plan. My game plan. In between bumming around and building my impervious writing dreams, he entered the picture, a rather unlikely part of it. Smart boy piercing through a girl’s “electrifying-as-snagging-a-wink-at-a-subway-ride” life? Cinematically bankable idea, eh?

But no, no, your intelligence is not being insulted here. He WAS a choice I took. Who would not choose to escape the tyranny of a tedious life in the first place? Although I practically had a tolerable life back then—casual friends, pigging out, petty writing stints, etc.— as the saying went, I jumped into the vat of boiling oil.

Initially, I even toyed with the idea of capitalizing on my goddamn feelings. Why not? I write crap, and I still do even after he came along, only that the crap was transformed into some sellout material after he DID arrive. Isn’t it that love is something that would make people downright cajole? Isn’t it that love somehow propels one into finding a life and having a royal kick at that? I still fool around with the thought at first, not grasping the possibility that I would end up a lot more awful than I was before.

Smooth sailing it originally started out as. Nothing could best describe it but that sleazy Julia Roberts kind of romance—clammy hands, sleepless nights, and high-above-it-all confrontations with the man of her dreams. Although those dabs of cinematic appeal turn out pretty exaggerated, my case became breathing substantiations for such.

I’ve lost count of the times I ran around endless circles. Academic crises took a backseat, as well as the mundane matters I used to attend to (take standing in front of the cabinet for five hours delirious of what to wear as an example). I would break my neck over things that concern him, that involve even the thinnest lock of his hair. Pathetic, as it always was, yet irrevocably true.

Well, I have to assert here that these weren’t wholly novel to me. I already knew how it felt before (although I was still a far cry from learning the ropes then). But with him, feelings weren’t made limited from giddy to orgasmic: all the emotions I harbored were plain pure. Pure as the sweat streaming down my face as I gain sight of him in the dreary hours of mid-afternoon.

Amid the tension, the casual apprehension, and the wicked fears, I was happy. Like, how Eddie Guerrero’s frog splash brings euphoria as it inflicts pain on Kurt Angle’s arrogant ass. Like, some pile of freshly baked brownies allowed by mom for you to devour in. But way consuming than all these. Way gratifying.

But of course, your nosy nature would probe: what the hell went wrong that all the actions in this lousy story seem to have taken effect during the past? What is this klutzy story up to eating my energy and time with its poorly woven plot? For crying out loud, what is the storyteller’s two cents’ worth?

Nothing really pummeled right through the scenario as the problem. ‘Cept that all these were mine alone. Coming to think of it, they were mine alone.

Purportedly, he wasn’t ready yet to bathe in the splendor of my condition.

Wait, frivolous kid, do wait for him, the go-getter in me bawls while livid with rage. Besides, you have all the friggin’ time in the world to kill. If you can keep yourself up all night waiting for WWE to grace your television set, why not hold your breath for a bicentennial to let his goddamn feelings grow? For all you know, it may be worth all the haze.

But it wasn't.

But instead of looking at it as a useless expenditure of my energy, I’d rather perceive the experience as something that spared me from drowning in self-centeredness. For once, I felt as if I was not living for my goddamn self. I was living for somebody else, and damn, a great shot at that. Almost. I was this close.

For some reason I was convinced that giving up isn’t a pretty option that time. Turns out, I am not ready to let go of the string just yet. Besides, imposing your own rules isn’t love at all; it’s practically rehearsing your dominatrix tendencies or something. Like, perceiving the other person as an object to which you can exercise your ultimate mechanical powers and all. Love isn’t like that.

Or is this even love in the first place?

I’d rather leave the answer to that prying inquiry indsiclosed, honestly. If this isn’t love then the world may already have been moving in retrograde, letting humans taste some kind of virtual reality. Or perhaps, those entire sinister things I’ve done to my mom, to my sister, or to my fourth-grade seatmate had already started backfiring at me.

If this may be a cruel hoax, then I must be a real retard to come running back to it at the end of the day. If you may be some philanthropic folk offering a crisp whacking for me, you might as well give the thought a sleep. I’d prolly refuse it.

I loved him. I did. And with or without the recurrence of the positive things that came with it, may always remain this way.

Yes, it will always be this fucking beautiful.

#

Ate Kate

shifter,vampire slayer, and Inquirer scholar

Sum
What doesn't kill me only makes me stronger
(modified from that essay for the ACET)
[08.15.04 @ 11.51pm]

I was reviewing the other night the past nineteen years - tracing with my eyes the invisible timeline I was drawing on the ceiling, noting with sparkling dots the places, the people and the scars. It was ten in the evening, and it was quiet in our room - I traced on and on in the darkness until I could imagine the constellations clearly - my universe was U1984-2004.

My name is Kate, and I cannot come up with a singular, all-encompassing definition for who I am, for I could be a lot of things to a lot of people. At home, I am the elder sister and a daughter. In grade school, I could have been that smart girl, or that girl who thought she knew better. In high school, I was a classmate, a class president, a prodigal kabarkada, an angsty tutee, a traitor, an athlete, an editor. When I look at myself now, I think of how I could be all these - the sum of people's expectations and disappointments.

Often, I am tempted to define myself by the things I'm not - singer, dancer, artist, perfect. In my more cynical moments alone, I think I am defined by the things that I couldn't be - that I am, indeed, the sum of all my failures and regrets.

In the timeline-slash-constellation of my life in my head, I remember where I put those sparkling dots. There was this moment when I was young, I got lost in the web of mirrors in Gaisano-Cebu. I was wearing a yellow shirt, and I was fascinated by my reflection, bouncing off the mirrors in an eternal loop. I got lost in myself - I was alone, save for the myriad of reflections around me.

There's this other moment I remember - that was when my mother died. I was twelve then, and it was a Wednesday. My sister won her math contest and my mother came home in a white coffin.

I remember when I first tasted illegal through cigarettes. Then I remember when I first fell in love.

I am notorious for this kind of remembering - though at times, I do forget. These moments that stick with me - those mirrors, my mother, the illegal things, the cigarettes, that girl - these were the things that hurt, these were the things that scarred. But these were also the things that left reminders, and in my struggle to find something I could define myself with, I looked inside myself and came up with these pieces and images that aren't at all pretty nor magical - because that isn't me. I'm neither pretty nor magical. I'm not a fairy tale.

So maybe it is true - I am the sum of all my failures. I am the sum of all my mistakes, all my regrets, all my sadness. I am defined by what I didn't do, by what I felt pain for. But to me, that is not the point. What is important is that I am still here. I got scared in Gaisano, my mother died, and I got my heart shattered - but I am still here. The pain didn't kill me - I am even stronger now.

Most people gloat about all the medals they've won, the plaques on their tables, the certificates in their frames. They believe they are the sum of all that glitters, all that's beautiful - and only that. But I am not just that. I am the sum of what I am and what I am not. I am what is beautiful in me and what isn't. I am the sum of all things happy and all things sad, all those nineteen years. I am Kate, a sum*. What doesn't kill me, adds to me and makes me more.

* funny how I hate Math. ***

Sabado,October 16,2004

sinulat ni silverbolt at 8:37 PM

Ako si Jerry, Ang Pinakagwapong Tagabantay ng Computer Shop ni Tita

Nakakapagod.

Kaninang mga alas nuebe y media, tinawag ako ng aking butihing titang balikbayan upang aluking magtrabaho sa kanyang computer rental shop. Kaya eto naman ako punta kaagad sa banyo at naligo agad. Muntik pa ngang mahulog ang sabon sa inodoro,buti na lang ito'y may germ protection ayon sa PAMET.

Syempre, tuwang-tuwa ako. Bukod sa kikitain kong P120 (na alam nating mahirap mapulot),maayos ko pa ang blog ko.

Kaso lang ang nakakaasar eh ang mga batang manlalaro na nung isang taon pa yata naligo.Ang baho. Meron pa nga yung isang batang tinatawag na totoy kung magsalita eh parang umuulan sa loob ng computer shop.Pati yung pawis nila dumikit na rin sa mga pambayad nila sa' kin.

So, ano ang sense ng pinagsusulat ko? Tungkol lang ba 'to sa karanasan ko sa mga batang yagit na adik sa Ragnarok?

Syempre hinde.

Halos lahat ng naglalaro dito eh magkapatid. Mas partikular ---mag-kuya. Dito sa kinatatayuan ko este kinauupuan ko, kitang-kita ko sila. May mag-kuya na nag-aasaran sa estratehiya ng bawat isa sa Battle Realms. Meron namang bata na humihingi ng pambayad sa rental sa kanyang kuya na nakasimangot pero sa huli eh magbibigay pa rin. At meron rin namang mag-kuyang sabay sinundo ng kanilang ina para umuwi--at mapagalitan.

Ahh...nakakapagod.

+SEM ENDER EDITION+