STORIES, STORIES

1-0-0 makes me think of Dilbert. *** It's my 100th post. For some reason, I think of 100 as a huge number. It has more of an impact on me than 200 does, or 1,000, or even 1,000,000. I promised myself I'd do something significant on my 100th post. But my word is, it turns out, not good. *** This blog has survived 3 months. It would be such a shame to cancel it. I owe it to myself to keep it going for at least a year. However, I've been entertaining thoughts of deleting it. One of the reason is because I feel like instead of growing as a writer, I've actually regressed. Even I find my posts boring. Repetitive. I try too hard to write. What I really need is a break.  So instead of cancelling it impulsively, I will let it sit for about a month, untouched. And only then would I decide. Thank you for reading me, friends. I will be back.

I remember the yellow light bulb on the staircase landing of the townhouse I used to share with my brothers. Walking towards it always meant I had come home too late into the night (or too early in the morning) minus that feeling of dread that always accompanied the practice of having to explain yourself and your whereabouts.  I don't see how people don't see themselves, when they spend the most time with themselves.  I want to be doing 200 things at the same time, not a moment to catch my breath. I hate intransitive verbs. They are so negative. I don't remember graduating from university.  I have never seen the sun rise. Too many people talk about it in that wistful manner. I'm sure it's overrated. I wonder how you walk, your gait, and what volumes it speak. I love the idea of freedom. It makes me feel pretty. I have always wondered what would have happened had I not missed that bus. Would I have bought that pair of shoes? Would it have felt awesome? I know now the...

If you are a Filipino voter, you might be interested in this . The elections are in 2010. It's the Obama-esque speech that won the people over. Are you voting?

You know how I've been trying to fix my sleep? Yeah, not working. I tried for the past few weeks to force myself to sleep at 2 a.m. Sometimes, I would fall asleep, but then wake up promptly a couple hours later. I'd spend the rest of the time reading until a half hour before I have to go to work, when I start to feel sleepy.  Other times, I just don't sleep at all, until that half hour (around 8 a.m.) when I feel sleepy and then take a short half-hour nap until Driver calls my phone and I make him wait another 30 minutes outside while I get my shit together. So since it's clearly not working for me, these normal hours, I've decided to change my approach. My new solution to the problem is this: Jason Bateman.

Meme-ing. After watching an hour long history on internet memes , I was reminded of some of the memes we've had in our family for a long time.  To this day, when my brothers and I get together, we are on the lookout for memetic expressions, video clips, sounds and pictures, either from our friends or from ourselves that evolve into something that we customize for lols, depending on the situation. Most of the time, it's very exclusive, as in we are the only ones who find it funny, but sometimes, it leaks out to our very close friends, and some of our cousins. It's almost like an inside joke gone wild. One of these popular inhouse memes is the one about E, a freelance driver that used to take my brothers to and from their Arabic school here in Jeddah. E had a habit of being on his phone while driving. There was also a certain way he answers his phone, where he changes his voice into a 'bedroom drawl', as if he were suggesting sexual relations to anyone who calls him. ...

It's a tragedy what happened to Filipino journalist Ted Failon and his family. I hope the Failon family gets through this. *** The Filipino Channel (TFC) is on at our house almost 24/7. It is, after all, our only connection to the Philippines right now. When we heard the news about Failon's wife, it started the discussion on suicide and depression, two things that are unheard of, uncommon and of course, unacceptable in our (Maranao) society. These are signs of weakness, something that is taboo and never talked about. A Maranao should have no weaknesses.  Like my friend T said, "We are the Chosen People. Haha. We THINK we are." I never thought about my parents' views on this would be. Now I know to them, it's mostly some form of ignorance. They didn't know about this, and now they do. Which is a good thing. My mother thought that depression was just someone being "maarte". (Let's see, that would probably mean whimsical in English? I'm not ...

My favorite word at the moment: Etho I read something about this in university, in one of the libraries at the AS Hall. It was raining that day, very hot outside. The lady outside the library who made photocopies for 25 centavos per page I think it was, was on her lunch break. I didn't have money for lunch. I had a shitload of reading backed up for 2 literature classes. I had one highlighting pen, neon green. I had a couple of cigarettes in my crumpled Marlboro soft pack; I was saving them for a colder moment, when I would need a smoke.  I remember all of this vividly, because I wrote it all down on a piece of yellow paper. Pretending I was writing a paper, like everyone else in that library. I felt like I was the dumbest, stupidest, most brainless piece of kak within a 500-mile radius. I wondered how I got into the university when there I was, already struggling with my studies, freshman college, and all my batch mates seem to be breezing through every single fucking class. And th...

a) because I am addicted to Twitter. I follow people who double as my daily newspaper reading. Twitter = Zeitgeist. b) because there is a bug in my room, specifically under my bed, and although it might be sleeping right now, it could just decide to come out and scare the goth make-up out of my face at any moment. It's weird, hey, why people are so scared of bugs, especially the harmless ones. c) because I know it's ok for me not to sleep properly for the next few days, knowing I don't have to wake up real early because I don't have work! Well, only in the mornings. And only for next week. Not even all of next week. Just for 2 days actually. Ah, fuck, that's depressing.  d) because at this hour, I really, really feel like a pizza. Man. e) because I can't wait to watch Memoirs of a Geisha (again) after reading the book. And then afterwards, I can't wait to pick up Dune again and continue reading it. 

You turn my world 90 degrees around. I gotta hand it to my Baba. The other night, he accidentally clicked something that caused his screen to rotate like so. He tried, as much as he could, to find a way to get it back to normal. He used his laptop like this for a whole half-hour, browsing online, probably looking for an answer to his problem, before asking me to fix it. As much as it annoys me that I have to teach him one thing over and over and over again, especially when it comes to his computer, I'm very proud of him for at least trying. :)

That Lovin' Feelin'. What makes you so special when you're in love?  Whatever it is you're feeling isn't the first time EVER it has happened to someone in this world, even though you think it's so. You know, you get that really special feeling where you can't stop smiling when you look out the window. And you bury your face into your pillow every morning; ah, life is beautiful, la di da. "No, THIS is different. THIS is just amazing." People in love hear a song (about being in love) and they nod their heads and sing along to it and wonder in amazement how other people could so accurately describe the things they are going through, the way they feel about another person, at that very moment. Wow, it's crazy. I could've written this song. The truth is, when you are in love, you DON'T become special. You become ordinary. You become like every other person in love.  So, love? In combination, love is an activity, not simply a feeling. *** Hur...