God rewards us in many ways. I went to the office with barely P15 in hand but I survived the day!
>I still have P3 in my pocket. A change from the P15 I had.
>The office offers free coffee and free ice-cold water. My life was made complete!
>I did not have lunch but officemates shared with me their food. I did not eat though for diet reasons. And I maintained my weight!
>An officemate went out of the office during break time and brought back kornik and green peas. I had a light snack. And still maintaining my weight!
>I had the chance of contacting friends and making new ones through the internet, free of charge. Life indeed, is good.
>When it was time to go home, an officemate gave me P15 for the fare he used to borrow from me.
>Upon going out, another officemate offered his car for all of us to ride home. Another P15 saved for fare tomorrow.
>I had a bad headache, but home is so silent it was a relief.
>I fell into a dreamless sleep.
Insha’allah. Isn’t life wonderful?
15 November 2006
21 February 2006
FUCKING BASTARDS
It pains me to see the news about the tragedy in Southern Leyte. I have relations with Governor Lerias and been working with the government in the past ten years and knows how the government works, and her work is never that easy.
The presence of US troops and some international rescuers (Taiwan, Malaysia, Spain, etc.) in the Philippines helping out the ravage province is a touching if not a sentimental picture. Here we are so divided but these people came in and help.
And while these people are helping the victims, those fucking assholes who have nothing to do but carry placards and shout their "cause" are causing but shame and disgrace (not counting traffic) to the Filipino people. How dare them do that! They deserved to be arrested and put in jail. We don't even get anything out from them but trouble in the international community. While we work and pay our taxes, they made poor people poorer. Instead of finding means to help, they smile at photo ops! I say FUCK ALL OF YOU BASTARDS!
Instead of helping us out of poverty they claim as a major problem, they enjoy torturing people who made the effort to help.
A misguided cause indeed.
20 January 2006
STONED AND DRUNK
(originally posted at MP)
Life is never enough despite of the fact that I am as old as the months of the year. Feeling young as ever, I went out to get drunk, stoned and hoping to get laid whichever comes first. I made the full moon as an excuse.
The beaches in Panglao were as beautiful when the moon is full. So inviting, so white, so peaceful. After getting stoned I went out to search for inner peace. That damn peace, I’ve been searching it for so long. Swimming is the right alternative. The silvery sea glimmered that night. Ecstatic, I drunk myself to death. Group sex inevitably happened like we have no choice. Perfect!
But when the spirit is willing and the body weak, I decided to go home. Home is my refuge as always. I took shelter there when I’m hurt. My home is the only witness to the thousand good and bad things I’ve done. It stood there silently, waiting for me. But home seemed a long way though and to get there I have to fly. As if chased by a million demons of my past, I went riding like hell. Cold wind slapped my face and my heated body. My heart pumped desperately, trying to get through me. Like it was trying to go ahead of me. This battered heart.
With a new bike, 175mph was for sissies and fags! My hand was uncontrollable as it pressed for more fuel. My foot never stepped for the brakes!
It was too late when like an apparition of some sort, a stray dog crossed my way. While my foot stepped on the brakes and my hand pressed for the handbrakes, I didn’t let go of the fuel accelerator. We made a dance of a lifetime, that goddamn bike and me. The motorbike hugged me as I fell down, screeching and scorching my skin. Still I never let it go. My bike and I have a relationship. Unlike my failed relationships with some people, I held on. We were one!
Only when my backup arrived did my hand loosened from the grip. I yelled. No, I howled!
They started to laugh at me. I said I am ok, just a charred leg and a sprained arm. I guessed. There was no blood. A few scratch here and there. I’m lucky they told me.
I blamed the dog that crossed my path. Of all paths, why mine? Me, who would rather be bitten by a dog than treat it badly, could have killed that beast in that instant. I blamed the owners of that dog. Fuck them! I should have been in my bed by now if they have tied their dog in some fucking post under their house. I cursed again. I blamed the government officials for being so lax in imposing laws on this matter. I blame them too for not lighting the streets well. I blamed my companions for allowing me to drive even if I’m drunk. I blamed everyone and everything. If you were there I could have blamed you too!
I never blamed myself.
And as the powers of alcohol and drugs went off, reality settles in. And it sat beside me without the comforting hand of a mother. Reality smiled at my monstrous hangover! Whatthefuck! My tongue tasted like lead. My body ached! My scorched leg is hurting. I can’t walk without the obvious limp. I have colds. I’m late for work. My day is damned!
Shit! Now I’m blaming myself! Reality grinned.
Life is never enough despite of the fact that I am as old as the months of the year. Feeling young as ever, I went out to get drunk, stoned and hoping to get laid whichever comes first. I made the full moon as an excuse.
The beaches in Panglao were as beautiful when the moon is full. So inviting, so white, so peaceful. After getting stoned I went out to search for inner peace. That damn peace, I’ve been searching it for so long. Swimming is the right alternative. The silvery sea glimmered that night. Ecstatic, I drunk myself to death. Group sex inevitably happened like we have no choice. Perfect!
But when the spirit is willing and the body weak, I decided to go home. Home is my refuge as always. I took shelter there when I’m hurt. My home is the only witness to the thousand good and bad things I’ve done. It stood there silently, waiting for me. But home seemed a long way though and to get there I have to fly. As if chased by a million demons of my past, I went riding like hell. Cold wind slapped my face and my heated body. My heart pumped desperately, trying to get through me. Like it was trying to go ahead of me. This battered heart.
With a new bike, 175mph was for sissies and fags! My hand was uncontrollable as it pressed for more fuel. My foot never stepped for the brakes!
It was too late when like an apparition of some sort, a stray dog crossed my way. While my foot stepped on the brakes and my hand pressed for the handbrakes, I didn’t let go of the fuel accelerator. We made a dance of a lifetime, that goddamn bike and me. The motorbike hugged me as I fell down, screeching and scorching my skin. Still I never let it go. My bike and I have a relationship. Unlike my failed relationships with some people, I held on. We were one!
Only when my backup arrived did my hand loosened from the grip. I yelled. No, I howled!
They started to laugh at me. I said I am ok, just a charred leg and a sprained arm. I guessed. There was no blood. A few scratch here and there. I’m lucky they told me.
I blamed the dog that crossed my path. Of all paths, why mine? Me, who would rather be bitten by a dog than treat it badly, could have killed that beast in that instant. I blamed the owners of that dog. Fuck them! I should have been in my bed by now if they have tied their dog in some fucking post under their house. I cursed again. I blamed the government officials for being so lax in imposing laws on this matter. I blame them too for not lighting the streets well. I blamed my companions for allowing me to drive even if I’m drunk. I blamed everyone and everything. If you were there I could have blamed you too!
I never blamed myself.
And as the powers of alcohol and drugs went off, reality settles in. And it sat beside me without the comforting hand of a mother. Reality smiled at my monstrous hangover! Whatthefuck! My tongue tasted like lead. My body ached! My scorched leg is hurting. I can’t walk without the obvious limp. I have colds. I’m late for work. My day is damned!
Shit! Now I’m blaming myself! Reality grinned.
KUNG GISAPOT IMONG OFFICE HEAD
when you start the day right and your smile is visible from here and beyond, there is no stopping you. you make sure the day is as bright as yours.
but when you arrive at the office and here comes your office head fuming mad at everyone because she was not able to bring her key and was not able to go in, what would you do?
GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!
but when you arrive at the office and here comes your office head fuming mad at everyone because she was not able to bring her key and was not able to go in, what would you do?
GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!
18 January 2006
to blog or not to blog
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TO BLOG OR NOT TO BLOG. that's the question that has been hounding me eversince my friends started showing me their own. as if having none means you're out of the circle.
why should i share my thoughts with everyone? maybe this has to do with psychological problems. you know. the share-your-thoughts-and-problems-with-friends-or-else-you-will-go-crazy thing. but my main concern is how to share my empty thoughts. maybe this is part of that crazy thing.
suddenly (as most fickle-minded aquarians do) i have this urge to share. i'm no blog reader. maybe soon my no-blogger title will be a thing in the past. or maybe i'm just afraid i will be the contribution of our family to our popularly crazy clan. or perhaps aquarians are just as crazy as well. i don't know.
is this how bloggers feel?
so why not try?
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