Leira Soul

Interesting Humans~

2009-02-25T19:02:00.004+08:00

I have never been much of a people person. I prefer watching them and reading them and studying how they move and act. It's a force of habit I've never grown out of, and it's something I'm usually thankful for. For one, I'm probably one of the few who can easily tell if somebody's depressed by looking at the slightly faster-than-usual walk or the heavy way somebody picks up a bag. It helps my writing too, since I can pattern my characters after real humans.

Unfortunately, I am often quiet around people who don't take the effort to talk to me first. I'm not entirely sure why that is, but it's another one of those things I've never grown out of. I'm not shy around people I know well enough, but I will remain quiet until I'm comfortable with those people. This is why, it seems, I've been called boring by most of my classmates.

Not that I care that much, but it's interesting to note these things. Especially when I think that I'm actually not all that dissimilar from one of them in particular, it becomes a little funny. On that note, I refuse to believe people who do nothing better with their time than fangirl over a girl rescuing a guy are worthy of judging me. But it is as funny as hell when they look at somebody and say that this person is bossy and that one is a know-it-all bitch or this one's a lunatic with nothing to do with his life.

That said, what makes one boring?

For me, there is no such thing as a boring person. Since I look at the world from the eyes of one who may write about it, everything and anything is a source of inspiration. The unique quirks and buttons of people make them interesting to me; one never knows if this big old tough guy will be a pussy with kittens or something of the sort. This is actually one of the things I like about those I will become friends with: they must at least know the rudiments of how they think and perceive. So far, I've been very good at telling those people apart from the others.

It isn't just because somebody's smart or a nerd that he'll know how he thinks. It takes a certain sort of maturity and not a little heartache to know this well. I've found that those people who aren't usually accepted very well by others have this trait the most often. Not to say that all of them have it, since I know of many who're ostracized and don't realize it.

But they aren't boring.

Now for other people. I think they might believe that just because I don't interact with them that often that I'm boring. I am, as a friend of mine put it, "work-oriented". I won't lounge around doing nothing but watching anime when I have work to do. Well, I will sometimes, but I will get my work done and on time at that. I don't interact with them because they don't speak with me either. I've said it before, in different words: a handshake isn't done by one hand. Even if I do speak with them, I find they turn away fairly quickly. It isn't as painful now as it was several years back, probably since I've adjusted now.

My dad says it's because they're jealous that they'll take any stab they can make. My friend thinks they just don't understand me at all.

I don't really mind. I'm used to being forgotten. Compared to being hated, I think being forgotten is much worse. I've seen people still recognize me after years of being apart, though, so I can't say that I'm always forgotten; just that, more often than not, people's eyes will pass over me.

I like people. Well, most of them. I like people I see are worth it to notice. Being bland, cookie-cutter popgirl is fine, as long as you have something inside you that minds being seen merely as that. But when you're bland, cookie-cutter, and use a posse to reinforce your position because you have no idea who and what exactly you are? Please, get out of my sight.

On Debate and the Ways of Saying It

2008-11-03T21:51:00.003+08:00

While I cannot pretend to be an expert debater, I have some carp in my system I need to ejaculate. And quickly.

First of all, what is a debate? To me, a debate is an intellectual meeting, where a policy, an idea, or a matter of paramount concern can be hammered out. For the competition type of debate, this then becomes a matter of synthesizing ideas into concrete plans, of saying the words and how you mean them in the most eloquent way possible. That is what debate is to me. It is beautiful, elegant, and one of the few real tests of human's ability to reason -- if not to reason out, then to move the often boxed view of the world.

The first foray I had into debate was sometime in Grade 5 or Grade 6. I believe it's in grade 6, however, based on what my sister is currently going through. The topic back then, and I remember this well, was the issue of whether this one or that one was supposed to be our national hero. I lost. I still don't understand why, considering I made many good arguments, and some of the counterarguments against my claims were weak and not related to the topic by more than a thread of a narrative.

When choosing a topic, it is unfair to any side to choose one with clear black and white sides. It is also unfair to choose one that has an overwhelming number of concrete arguments misbalanced to just a single side. It is never good to debate about morality, war economics, or whether or not the child next door should be fed. It is good to debate about the ethics of morality, the feasibility of war economics, or whether the child next door should be fed with charity or with a state feeding program.

Finally, when the topic's been assigned, the work actually begins.

First of all, let's tackle the "cannot think of an argument" end. When an argument cannot be thought of, the best way to work on it is often to think about the many different points of view of the people involved. Obviously, this does not apply to the "national heroes" debate above, but it works with many types. Also, when an argument cannot be thought of, it is sometimes effective to think about the possible arguments of your opponent. Anticipating arguments can lead to a point of your own, or maybe even open up a "brainway" to a new argument you'd never have thought of otherwise. The brain works in mysterious ways.

Second, the "too many arguments" end. The best advice for this is: if you can't defend it, drop it. To save a whole vessel, you must sometimes cut off the worst parts, a bit like amputation. Better to do it while you're planning than have your opponent do it for you later. Reassess based on how strongly they support your point, how well that point supports your case, and how well that case supports your position. When looking at a point for the second time, it always helps to keep a mental file of it. During your prep stage, you never know what arguments your opponent will pull out of the hat. Although you keep the best points for inclusion in your main speech, those best points will not always be enough to give you the win. Build up your case, but try to break down your opponent's while you're at it.

Finally, let's finish this off. Presenting the debate speech itself.

Start strong and end strong. Your impression must be that of a confident and strong person. You can stammer or stumble, but never waver. If you're pressed on an issue, always put your best foot forward. If you can't answer a POI, say that you will address it later and try to incorporate it into your speech; people are likely to forget it if you don't bring it up anymore. That said, always try to address them at opportune moments. Don't drop what you're saying just to address one.

Last but not least, be calm whether you win or lose. The experience is all the for the best. It's okay to cry over loss or to gloat over winning, but always be sure to stow away what you've learnt.

Look Up and Smile

2008-08-14T21:06:00.005+08:00

It has not been a good time for any of us poor souls.

I like to think that grades don't really matter to me as much as they do to other people. It does off me, however, that I seem to be missing the marks for a grade up by around a single percent or so. Especially considering that many of those could have been prevented had I been a little more careful, or in one case a little more diligent upon following up a submission.

Barely five hours ago, Truth was setting up for a Reader's Theater presentation. I'm not entirely certain how somebody can just decide to back out a scant ten minutes before going on stage -- though, yes, she had been attempting to back out of her solo role since last week -- but it was done. I can't really comment on other people's presentations, since I didn't see them, but I have this to say about ours: the worst things that could have gone wrong did not. Lines were said more or less identically amongst the choir, and most of the characters were able to portray the scenes well. I have bones to pick with a couple, especially the ones whose last-second "changes" detracted from the poetic stability of the piece, but in the end it was able to give us a grade on the borderline of top.

Looking back, maybe I should have worked more on the script. Considering how much the other classes toyed around with their scripts, it seems the original "You may change the words but the essence must remain" and "The piece must still be poetic" rules were thrown out the window. Not that I mind much, of course, since this probably let our characters have their way with their lines. But the script which I had to sweat over because we were deviating too far from the Word of the Boss (i.e. the Fitzgerald translation of the Iliad chapter 24)... well, I feel the tiniest bit disgruntled.

This, combined with the exhaustion of nigh-daily practices until god-forsaken hours, has taken its toll on my poor body. It currently feels like it's running a fever with some measure of muscular pain on the side. No matter, a four-day weekend is coming up soon. As long as I don't pass out tomorrow, I should be fine. I've always wondered how it would be to pass out and find myself staring up at a ceiling I don't recognize as being where I last was anyway. CAT tomorrow should be fun.

I haven't posted for quite a while, from the looks of it. Well, now that I've finished off the reasons for that, I can proceed with the pseudo-philosophical ramblings.

I once heard a saying, something about how only tourists ever look up. I can honestly say this much isn't true, though on second thought I could say I am a tourist in this world. I look up at the ceiling a lot. Not because I'm looking for spiders or lizards or anything, but just because I do. I think it started as a habit back when I was little. It isn't a useless skill, either.

I'm just about the only person who can accurately describe most places I've been to. That is, including the ceiling. Or, if it's an open space, I could probably tell you how much of the sky was covered in clouds or if the clouds were moving strangely. It's been said that gods live high above us, behind the veil of clouds and the blue mist. I'm not sure if gods are really up there.

I've met a lot of people who believe in God, or gods, as the case may be, but I don't think I've met a person who knows exactly what they want from Him or them. Most people answer that mechanical textbook answer of "salvation". Others say "mercy". Some say "Love". I don't know what I want from who- or whatever is up there, mainly because I don't think I want to believe in beings so far removed from human life that they cannot possibly know who and what we are.

Living so high above us, anybody up there can't possibly walk the earth like we do. See the space like we do. Look up towards the sky like we do. This is probably the reason why gods in my writings are always able to walk on the ground. That way, at the very least, they can look up towards the same thing we do. If it doesn't sound important, maybe to another person it really isn't. But to me, looking up at the same sky simply means that the other being can look up with me and see something we both can understand. The sky is common everywhere and anywhere. When it turns dark, rain will probably fall. When large cotton balls float around, then the sun won't be going anywhere anytime soon.

Going deeper, this also means we can say we might wish for the same things. Gods can be omni-whatever, but many humans will only have a single true wish. To "fly". To touch the sky that seems far away and nearby. To reach the dream that we have planted there as children being taught nursery rhymes. The gods I write about may actually live there. But they will always be able to come down to understand how humans can always look up and look back down with a smile.

Psychological Works

2008-05-21T16:28:00.002+08:00

I've recently finished watching a series called Neon Genesis Evangelion. It's known among people for being a pretty accurate depiction of how a person suffering from clinical depression gets on with life.

Now, tell me, if I honestly tell you that I go through life like that on a nearly-daily basis, what would you say?

To be fair, let's put it this way. I frequently follow the same trains of thought. I have had similar me and me conversations, especially during the rare bouts of suicidal thought. I can sympathize well with Asuka -- no, I have not lost my mother, nor have I been shunned. It's a matter of the same want of a mother, though.

Looking at my living conditions, it's likely I'd be proclaimed safe from depression. A five-member family, with one dog, and a couple of house-help. Not too rich, the parents come home everyday. In cases where the parents aren't around, an older member of the house generally takes up the slack. No evidence of abuse, nor of any psychological attack. Apartment's not close to much danger, and the stress levels are normally low.

And yet here I am, posing a disastrous example to established psychology. And have been for the last decade or so. It sometimes amazes me that I'm still alive. Then again, at other times, I feel disgusted at myself for the same.

I thought that I had gotten rid of all this nature some time last year, during my long hiatus. After that period, I was writing in a less markedly snarky sarcastic pragmatic manner, and a little more like how I frequently write when in a good mood. Why it relapsed so well may be blamed partly on the events of my third year, but possibly also on my own nature.

I've said somewhere here before that I know that I was a wanted child. It had taken so long for them to have a second safely born child, after all. That knowledge doesn't help much when my attitude clashes strongly with my mother's. No, it's not really an every-point-shall-we-battle kind of clash. In fact, it's mostly centered on a single specific topic: how I look.

To be blunt, I see no reason to spend time on being pretty. As long as I'm presentable, I'm fine with that. Unfortunately, the rest of my father's side of the family tends towards criticism. There are times when I think the only reason I'm around is to provide a baseline 10 for intelligence and a baseline 0 for both social skills and beauty. It does not help that I could possibly be a baseline 10 for all three if I had the interest to do so. It does not help that family hierarchy demands that I do my best to keep my parents from being criticized on the way they've raised me.

Oh, look at his daughter, doesn't even carry around a comb! They've probably never taught her that being pretty is essential to getting herself a husband!

Oh, look at his daughter, doesn't know how to call loudly! They've probably never taught her how to respect her elders!

And thus, my mother frequently (angrily as well, but that's beside the point) comments on how I look like I was picked out of a sewer. Before people comment, this is usually right before and right after I get to school. Occasionally in the middle of the day, when we're together. This includes hair, clothing, figure, and facial expression when applicable. Before I proceed, I should note that I did not learn how to smile and frown properly until I was in grade school. Yes, I am that maladjusted.

On the figure bit, I know for a fact that I have a large ribcage. Well, I don't know how to call it per se, but I'm fairly certain I'll never be able to reach the perfect 20 waistline my mother wants me to have. 24 is fine with her, but unfortunately, she hasn't heard of the BMI, and it doesn't matter to her that I'm already considered underweight and just barely acceptable on the BMI. Having broad shoulders, inherited from my father, does not help my case in the least. It just lends room to plenty of complaints when clothes-shopping. And she then complains that I don't like clothes-shopping.

On the hair bit, I have naturally frizzy hair. What she decided upon doing was hauling me to the salon for a thermal rebonding session, knowing full well I have CAT classes in the coming school year, and with my warnings that long hair must be tied back for lab sessions. For the uneducated, thermal rebonding does not allow tying, clipping, and any form of while-wet hairstyling. And then she states that she wants this to last until March of next year.

It's also worth a mention that she's obsessive-compulsive on how neat things are/should be. It's to the point that she grows stressed when she sees the house dirty. Now, there are three of us children sharing one room, and one of us has no concept of the word neat. It would be fine if she didn't blame all the un-neat things on the women. "You're girls, you should know how to clean up your things nicely! Never mind him, just clean up after him too!" It does not help that I frequently put things that I might need again in a short while in easy reach.

I don't feel any better for letting all this out. I've repeated such things to myself many times over the last few years. It all boils down to just taking it, because there exists no such thing as a psychological problem in the family. If there does, expect it to be a product of bad raising.

The noise and the bustle of school allows me a brief respite, I think. I don't have to think about where I put down somebody else's dirty tissues, or about ensuring that my speech and manner are perfect (well, as restaurant-perfect as shouting "Welcome, Auntie/Uncle/Tita/Tito/Whatever!" at the top of my lungs can be). Yes, being introverted has no place in this family.

This hated me, I wonder if it's possible to be rid of her?

This me that is capable of calmly looking back and knowing what she did wrong. This me that is the one who is responsible for my still somewhat intact sanity.

If I lose this self, I wonder, will I finally be able to etch the cross on my wrist? TV does not do suicide justice, probably because they don't want to show you how to do it yourself. To break the major artery in the arms, just slitting the wrist isn't enough. It would take hours to bleed to death by that method. Another line should cross the lateral slit. Two lines, in a cross, the longer one reaching about midway down the forearm. Also, for even faster death, a larger major artery is in the thigh. Might take a bit more to reach, but definitely a more sure-fire way of never reaching the hospital.

How do I know? Blame it on the suicidal bout that led me to know where all easily-reached possible kill areas are.

A Thought on Distance

2008-05-05T23:57:00.001+08:00

I've just finished the animation movie "5 Centimeters per Second". It's subtitled, "a chain of short stories about their distance". In a way, I found it one of the movies that have made me react not with my rational, nit-picky self, but with the side of me that I more frequently choose to write with. Wikipedia has a decent summary, if you ask me, so go look over there if you want to figure out what I'm talking about here.

It's been a pretty long time since I last wrote anything about becoming separated, for good reason. In a way, I'd come to accept very well that most of the people I know now, I'll lose contact with very soon. It doesn't really matter how far away they are, or how close modern things like chatting or blogging make us feel. That's because, no matter how much you write each other, there is nothing that replaces being together. It's already incredible how Akari and Takaki manage to keep in contact for half a year, if you think about it, in the decade of snail mail and red boxes.

However, it must also be realized that simply being together isn't enough. There's a certain rapport that isn't present with casual friends. The people that one really treasures have a way of pulling themselves outside of your memory. Kanae possibly allowed me a glimpse into that. However, she also allowed me to think about another, slightly sadder, thing. One has to wonder how things could have turned out. The distance, for Kanae, was not physical distance. I doubt it was because she had forgotten her feelings either; she manages to mail a message to Takaki in the third story, at least, I think it's her. Yet, there was something that kept them apart. I understand that allowing the people you care for the most to go and find themselves, and the things that they search for, will almost always mean that you allow them to leave you.

I wonder, though. After years of searching, all that Takaki came up with was a vague dissatisfaction of his surroundings. It was more of a sense of a loss of purpose, I think. After years of working, living, and blindly walking, he lost all drive. If that is what will happen to people, if that is what will eventually happen to me, then maybe it is best to act upon those occasional suicidal whims. And what an amazing distance it is, that separates him from Akari. Is it for the best that he accepts the distance he's formed from all other people? We never really see him interact with anyone other than Akari. His interactions with Kanae are not much different from with random unnamed classmates.

Is this the distance that I will face too? The extent of loss that he had, I wonder, will I someday be that way as well? It wasn't just a distance from people, it was a distance, a detachment, from the world itself. Will I be strong enough to remain firmly grounded? I can't really answer that. If I were to judge from my actions until now, then it's almost certain I'll be lost.

Maybe there's a small touch of hope here, too. It's possible that everything really did turn out the best way they could. Waiting for both trains to pass, hoping to see the woman he just passed, well, if he did, what difference would it make? She's married. An argument could be made that she would help him land his cuckoo and get some drive back, but in that state, he's about as likely to just decide to shoot himself. If Kanae had confessed her feelings, what would happen then? There would be a pressure on their relationship, a tenuous one supported only by the lack of physical distance. He would leave soon anyway. To know those feelings would be of no help. From his dreams during that time, and from what we see before the train crossing scene, it's actually very likely that he kept searching for things that reminded him of Akari, years after they last met.

So what can we do to help keep ourselves close to each other, to declare our friendships "unbreakable", to find ourselves with bonds stronger than iron? Maybe nothing. Distance is an inevitability in life. I can't expect anybody to always be beside me. Even for those who don't go far away, there is the grim final farewell that will someday come along. So, there isn't a thing we can do to keep the physical distance from eventually increasing.

But, maybe, for the other kind of distance, there may be ways. To remember something gingerly, whether the memory be sweet or bitter, so that the memory does not become warped. To keep these important thoughts and feelings close to heart. I can't ensure the other person's heart will hold mine close to his or hers. But, at least, I can make sure I hold theirs close to mine.

To Believe in Hope

2008-03-14T21:37:00.004+08:00

It's the end of a year, kiddies. Well, an academic school year, at least. Plenty of things to think about again.

First and foremost, we have the little thing called a club revival. It's going to be rough to say the least. The main reason we couldn't revive it last year was because our leadership faltered in the middle of the year. Needless to say, I want to see the club up and running by the time I leave. Because of the tedious schedules of people, we've also had to stage a total party kill on our DnD game. No points for guessing what exactly we need to get up and running next year.

We've kept forgetting the most important elements though. I recently finished watching Higurashi no Naku Koro Ni, and a number of the lessons I picked up from there are surprisingly fit for the case.

First: The formation of a club depends on how much the people involved want it.

Second: The most important thing when trying to battle against a powerful force is belief.

Third: In anything, creativity and innovation are always needed. But never forget to be observant too.

How do all these link to our condition now? Well, I'll tell you.

Inkwell has been around for a pretty long time, just not as an officially recognized club. That's because, to be officially recognized, a club has to have income and expenses, a membership list, a credo, and so on and so forth. Things that usually don't appeal to your average student. Here is where the first lesson comes in: How much do we want this? I'm certain that there are at least a few people who honestly want this. However, those people might not feel that they can do anything for what they want. This is most definitely a misconception. This is where the second lesson acts: The people must believe that they can do something. Wasting time and hope wishing for something to come true but not doing anything for it yourself is a stupid action, deserving of getting hit by the powerful Rena-pan. When wanting to have a toy, do you just sit back and wait for it to fall on your lap? No! You, if you're old enough, scrimp and save to buy it. If you're young enough, you make puppy-dog eyes at your parents and ask them in your sweetest and most kiddie voice to buy it for you. Either way, you did something. It's the same here. I don't care if people want to take the initiative or not, but show some durned interest! It's the most disheartening thing when people don't seem to care whether or not the club remains on life support or even if we decide to euthanize it!

If people have actually read the above, then you'll realize that the third lesson still hasn't fallen into place. That's because this lesson can only be put into practice if people have done the first two. It's mainly a lesson for the leaders, but even members need to learn it, since we are a creative writing club after all.

There's just one more year to go before I leave high school. Thus far, in all my three years, I haven't done anything I consider worthy to be written down on a college application at all. In all my three years, I haven't done anything that I can be proud of because it was my own effort and strength that led me to it. I want to believe that I can gather the people together to rally against this apathy, just like the miracle that brought down the seemingly inevitable fate. I want to believe that, finally, I can do something without relying on what others throw at me.

That is, I want to believe in hope.

Belief, and by extension hope, is a powerful force. It is this that allowed the fascists control of Europe, and Hitler his Nazi Party. It is this that allowed the medieval crusades to occur, for religion to spring from its seeds. I'm not aiming for something that's going to be in the history books. It's likely not going to change what I'm going to be one day either. It's probably not going to help me get into some large Ivy League University after a few years. The one and only thing I can hope to gain from this is the strength to act upon what I want to happen. That is why it is essential for me to believe that this lonely, weak, pitiful I can manage to do enough to help.

And so, I stretch out my hand. Who will reach out for it?

On Fate, Fact, and Farce

2008-02-25T15:17:00.002+08:00

There are many things that I should have blogged about. Because of Blogger's problems with loading, I haven't had the opportunity. But that's all right. I'll write now and see whatever else I can do about things like this later.

On February the 16th, I attended the prom. As a prom, I must say it wasn't at all what anybody would hope for. But there are other things that a prom is for. There's the signal that, "Hey, we're finally growing up." There's the thought that, soon enough, everything will be over. Even if we're only third year, it's still already our third year. We've been through a lot, and we've been in high school for two years, both yet and already. Soon enough, we'll be fourth year.

We celebrate our coming of age. And yet, I feel that we also dread it. As a child, nobody expects much of you. You make a mistake, it's all right. You mess up your room, it's all right. Your parents are there to help you out. We never really appreciate much of this until we're about to leave it behind. Once you reach high school, things change a lot. Your mistakes are your own to repair. If its irreparable, tough luck. Most parents begin to let go, to decide that you should learn to make your own way. Very few actually realize that this is when we need their help the most.

Sure, there're always rebels. There's a bit of that rebel in anybody. But that's exactly why we need our parents even more. It's not when you're in your room that you need help, right? You need help when you're lost, confused, and scared in a big dark forest. You need help when you've found that you're too weak and desperately need to find a way back again. So don't give me any words of "But that's the only way you'll ever grow up." I never asked that parents should keep us from making mistakes. I only asked that they be there to point us in the right direction.

That's the most inevitable part of growing up, I think, getting lost. You'll finally make your own mistakes, attempt to learn from them. There're people who're strong enough to find their way back to the road they want to take. There are those who stray only so far. And there are those who foolhardily stray into the darkness and never come back. It's inevitable. That's why it's to frightening.

I wonder how far I'll wander. Fate is so highly mutable that I never really know if I'm on the path I'm supposed to take, or if I've strayed too far from it and have to forge a new one. How do I find out? Will there be someone around the next bend who'll tell me that I'm on the wrong path?

And, if there is, how can I tell that he speaks the truth, that I am irrevocably lost?

There's always a part of me that's scared of that.

But, fact is, there isn't anything I can do. This is the route I've thus far chosen to take. There will be more forks here and there, more ways to get lost in a twisty maze of passages. Who can I rely on to help me through all this? Since I was little, I've never really taken the time to get to know someone deeply enough for them to keep by my side no matter what. Recent events have shown that I've changed a bit, but will the relationships I form now, in high school and in third year to boot, be enough?

Lying to other people is bad enough; lying to myself is unforgivable. And I fervently wish I can face the truth.

Reflectia

2008-01-26T14:08:00.000+08:00

What happens when one refuses to see the truth? There are times, I suppose, that truth and lies seem to meld together into some view of reality that conforms to how one thinks. There are times, I suppose, that one's emotions run high and become a hindrance.

When you raise up your eyes to the sky above, what do you see? Do you see a brilliant azure sea? Do you see the dark clouds forming in the distance? Do you see the glaring sun that continues to shine no matter what? Many things depend entirely on how you see them. It's the same no matter if it's the sky, the food on the table, your own future, or even your friends.

Arbitrating a dispute with those two conditions is tough. Even tougher when the people involved know each other better than you know most of them. They're together very often, speak -- or at least used to -- very often, and even used to hang out together. It becomes less a question of a problem than a question of what the cause was, and how to fix it. And, definitely, this sort of problem can tear apart friendships and cause more trouble than satisfaction over having a dispute in the first place.

It makes one wonder, actually, how relationships can turn so sour. Is is because one of you has a skewed view of reality, or is it because the other was accidentally really sending across the wrong message? Was it an accident, or was it all planned from the start? I can't know. I'm not involved in it directly, at least not until only lately. Amazingly, I'm reflecting on something that didn't happen to me. But, maybe it already has. Who knows? Definitely not me.

Those same fights can sometimes help make a relationship stronger. It's a reflection of a good relationship that it can weather fights and misunderstandings and still stay standing, in my opinion. Sure, it's good if you never fight, but it's likely better that you can fight without being afraid that tomorrow, you won't see each other anymore.

Many things are based on argument. The scientific method, for heaven's sake, has an entire step similar to argument. Debates, including those that occur in courthouses and congresses worldwide, are basically fancy arguments. So, why is it that only a domestic argument can cause one or both parties to break down in tears?

Don't give me all that stuff about those "larger" debates not really affecting the lives of many. A whole bunch of people do actually cry over lawmaking, I think.

The only solutions to this sort of dispute, I think, is for both parties to somehow compromise. Whether in execution or in understanding. When a mind is open enough to understand the other side, communication is so much easier. When one is willing to give up part of his or her mindset, be just a little less stubborn, then things go along much smoother. If the entire world were just a little less stubborn, we might not have global misunderstandings nor discrimination.

When I look up at the wide and open full moon, I can sometimes believe that I see a reflection. A beautiful reflection, one with all its beauty lying unmarred by strife and discord. There are times when the moon clouds over, but the clouds soon enough pass and I can see the reflection once more. It is in this way that my muses come out with their most beautiful lines and sayings. It is in this way that I can relax and focus best.

Maybe, a relationship is just like that.

New Beginning

2008-01-01T19:52:00.000+08:00

Currently Listening to: Believe by Tamaki Nami

I believe this would be the second OP of Gundam Seed? I'm not too sure as of the moment.

Currently Reading: A whole variety of Chinese books

I just got back from a Singapore trip. A whole bunch of fun if you ask me, though I think emotions ran a little bit higher than necessary. It makes one wonder, really, why it is that people form bonds that are strong enough that separation causes great strain even though the other is only a mere text/e-mail/phone call away.

I suppose I can't really comment on that sort of thing, though. It's not like I have any overpowering emotions of my own to compare the feelings to. Empathy can only transfer an emotion so far, after all. I suppose that is a weakness of mine: that I cannot feel emotions as other people would. Even when I'm happy, or sad, or angry, there's always that limit which I can't pass but other people often do.

It's the new year now, isn't it? At least, by the Solar Calendar. The year of the Earth Rat, thus bringing with it bad tidings, will be ushered in come February. I wonder again how much I've changed, and how much I've remained myself. There's barely a shred left of who I was when I graduated grade school, I think. I'm stronger, and weaker now. I've become less mindful, and have lost myself on several occasions. I've learned new things, forgotten many old things, and rediscovered parts of me that I thought I'd buried.

I wonder, how brave do I have to be to see myself for who I am? I always keep wishing that other people would appreciate me for me, and not for who I could be. But I don't even know how to define myself. Maybe that should be my goal for this year.

I'm scared. I'm honestly scared of what might happen, and of who I might become, and of what foolishness I might do. It'll all be all right, won't it? That's how life is anyway; it continues on even without your consent. Then all that is left of the past are the crystal memories that are easily skewed and bent and shattered. But, that's how things have always been.

Who am I to fight that?

Pater Noster

2007-11-24T15:58:00.000+08:00

今宵わ私の葬式が。感家ないわ，このエヴエント。命の終わりがとてもきれいそうだな？それて，これわ人たちの運命だから。

Oh the emo-ness. Everybody thank the lords that I can write it other languages, or else I'd likely have hundreds of people after me right now.

How much more can I take before breaking down? This year has had a record: I've broken down twice in the span of six months. In all of second year, I broke down once, and never from grade three until first year, save the occasional suicidal thought.

But it's being a problem right now. As of now, every time I see those high wood shutter things way above our heads in Biology, Physics, and Chemistry, I'm struck by the sudden urge to find a rope and hang myself. Or maybe just find a sharp Swiss knife and bleed. It's disturbing since I've no idea what in the world it is that I could be so depressed about. It's not like I've been involved in another of those scandals that pop up every so often in the ordinary student life. It's not like I've been failing left and right by world standards.

So -why-?

A funeral doesn't sound so bad right around now. Not a funeral for the physical body, but one for Hope. I'd always believed that somehow, I might be able to do much more than I actually see I can. I've always been hoping that someday, I might be able to live a life that nobody else can ever experience.

There are 78 million people in the Philippines. There are around five times that many people in the world. Of all these people, how can I say that I am someone totally different? Someone who can do things that only I can. There are plenty more who are far more talented than I am. There are plenty more who are far more accepted than I am.

There are many more whose warmth will touch more people than I could even hope to meet.

Why do I keep trying so hard? There won't be any real reward in it for me anyway. I won't get any richer, grow any taller, or anything else at all. I guess, it was because I kept hoping that something inside me would one day be capable of spreading that warmth.

And, no, don't give me any of that "But you're our ate and we love you" stuff.

When at the crossroad of right and wrong, I pick neither the correct path nor the wrong path, but the easy one by going back. I've been trying to change, but somehow, at every turn, something happens that makes me turn back into that person who refused to change. I keep going back to that person who I tried to leave behind, that person who refused to ever be with anybody else for fear of being shunned, and as a result was truly treated as non-existent for six years.

Tell me, how does such a person keep on living when their faults keep getting back at them? How does a person move forward when the only way that can be seen is to go back?

And so, I pray that one day, I might be strong enough to find the path that leads me forward. Even if that path is the path of wrong and leads to the abyss.

Song of Solace

2007-10-20T21:36:00.000+08:00

I haven't been updating much. My "last post" date says September 7th. So I realize that I have much to write and much to reflect on.

First, I should travel back to the retreat. It's fairly recent, and it's a pretty big thing to reflect on.

On the 5th of October, a Friday, the entire school was flooded with the blacks of the 09 batch shirt. After a trio of exams (one of which I failed quite miserably), everybody awaited the departure in the front lobby. And, for those who have never seen Pisay organize a bus trip, suffice to say that it felt like a parade and a carnival rolled into one. Beryllium and Rubidium were in one bus together, a total of still about sixty people since Father Mon and a couple of other people joined us.

In a fit of traditional Pisay bus trip fortune, somebody's bus broke down. I believe it was the Potassium bus stranded near Coastal Mall, obviously a far way from our supposed meeting place right inside the gates of the retreat house in Tagaytay. Our bus took all of 2 and a half hours to get there. And we were very very behind in our itinerary.

But enough of the narration.

I learned specifically what I felt most strongly about during that trip. I felt so strongly about it, in fact, that I skipped confession since I knew I wouldn't be capable of keeping the vow of never doing the sin again. Instead, my promise became to find some way to make sure that it wouldn't ruin my life before I had the chance to enjoy it. While our counselor talked to us one by one, she mentioned that she pitied me for my situation. It is pitiable, I suppose, but the nature of the situation isn't nearly so drastic as some other things I've experienced. And I still had some measure of fun.

I am not a very happy person. At least, I think not. I smile often, and laugh a fair bit, but I honestly cannot recall any time where I simply allowed myself to have fun among my schoolmates. It isn't bitterness, I think; it's more detachment. A willing sort of detachment that lets me have an unbiased view of what we're doing, but not a chance to be part of the act itself.

One of the teachers with us noticed that fact a bit. During one of our sessions, the speaker told us all to stand up and give anybody we though was an important part of our lives. I still don't quite understand why, but practically everybody was crying. And they were all in a gigantic 200-person strong throng in the middle of the room. On the other hand, I was sitting in a seat off to the side reading a nice little book. And I wasn't the only one, as a few other people were also still seated. But I suppose I stood out since I was likely the only one who was 09 since first year and still seated.

I cried a bit too. But I know my reason exactly. Ever since I can remember, part of my nature has always thought of myself as unliked and unloved. Partially, this is due to my lack of social ability until a fairly old age. And, at that session, people hugged me.

As an aside, I have a thing against being hugged by any male member of the species homo sapiens. I don't particularly mind if its me doing the hugging, but I especially dislike males who sneak up behind me and hug, and then their spikey hair enters my mouth when I turn to see who it is.

It took every last ounce of civility I had to keep from throwing the creep out at that moment. Also, quite obviously, I was not crying at that moment.

I think that's most of what I have to say about the retreat. I had bonding sessions with some of the other girls, too.

Secondly, we experienced plenty of other things in the long time period between my postings.

But, I don't think it's worthy to be written about. I don't have much to reflect about on them, after all.

Freezing the Lifeblood

2007-09-04T21:46:00.000+08:00

How long has it been since I last had my own free moments?

What with all sorts of work cropping up everywhere and the turmoil of my own feelings right now, I desperately need some time alone. And yet, I think, that's exactly what I cannot spare right now.

I'm thankful that we aren't holding much by way of class tomorrow.

But, at the same time, I feel already the sense of desperation crawling up from under my skin. All of this because, for a reason I can't exactly pinpoint right now, my grades have slipped pretty far and I'm trying to pull them back up again.

In as much as I'd like to let out my emotions here right now, I'm afraid I have to sort them out first. So I'll just put up things I've thought of these last few times that desperation has led me to hold inner dialogues while I'm doing something else.

First of all, why do I try so hard now to keep a good grade?

Part of the reason is because I'm in third year now. The other part is because, since last year, people have already begun to think of me as a person who can do much more. So much more, in fact, that there are times when I feel that expectation is misplaced. I try my best, now, to keep a face that I can show to them and to the rest of those who see the person I am.

And, of course, because I want to keep it that way. Things go so much more smoothly when nobody knows you. And yet, things feel much more lonely. When I threw away my loneliness, I threw away the fact that I could keep on living without anybody pushing me. When I stopped feeling sorry for myself, I lost the chance to just stay the same.

It's not all bad. Change is natural in life. With luck, the next change will be for the better. With luck, the next bad change won't be something I have to hide away in the corner about. With luck, I won't be crying over something I should have done -- what I should have tried harder to do, what I should have forced myself to say -- the next time a bad wind blows.

Next, how come there is a pain that can come from only those who're closest?

Ahia is still here. I'm not truly happy about that, since that means he didn't get to do what he wanted to do, but I'm glad I can still stay with him for a while longer. Unfortunately, that while won't be the same as the other times. I have to hold back now, not just a little. I have to forget thinking of him as Ahia, at least during this time. Having something like that is dangerous for the me who is here right now. Complications, problems, and troubles will all arise if I don't stop.

Maybe I can just treat this as part of the process of eventual forget. After all, that's always how things will end.

Third, why is it that there are those who can handle deep pain and those who can not?

With that, the thought that who am I to judge those who seem to be unable? Their pain might be much deeper than anyone else's. It's always hard to read those who you're disgusted with, for example. When they snap, you become even more disgusted. You think that their problem is nothing when compared to yours, and that their snapping just proves how weak they really are.

I guess, the situation of the other person must always be considered. I can't understand somebody whose parents have died, though I can understand somebody who has feared that. I can't understand the feeling of losing a person forcefully, but I can understand the feeling of forgetting over years, exams, and troubles. I can't understand the happiness of remembering happy times with a long-time friend, but I can work with the happiness of being right here with somebody who talks to me.

心裡的通苦不是別人能懂得。人的事不是那麼容易感得到。我們只能夠讓人家自分努力過生命。

It's not very elegantly said, granted. It's the best I can do right now, without help from somebody who actually knows how to type chinese pinyin into here.

And, lastly, how come everything that happens simply must happen when there are other things to be done!?

Essay Post

2007-07-27T23:25:00.001+08:00

An attempt in response to a challenge Sir Martin posted for his batch 2010 students, with some modifications. Check it out over at his blog.

Many thousands of games are currently floating about the market. Games like Worms, Guilty Gear, Metal Slug, and even MMORPGS that are being continually updated and developed. Some of the longest running game series, however, are those that put the player in the seat of an overlord dictating the ways and lives of his/her people. Games in such a genre include Black and White, Civilization, and Age of Empires.

I won’t pretend and say I’m an avid follower of these games. I’ve only ever played Civilization 2, and I highly doubt I’ll ever get to play any others. For those who were wondering, Civilization 2 is from the era of Windows 1998, and that is quite a long time ago.

I’ve always been intrigued, however, by the way they manage to present history. I dimly remember having chosen a civilization based solely on the starting package of technologies they give out. It’s quite intriguing looking at that list. Most civilizations start off with the writing technology. That’s all well and good; writing is more or less the basis of a developed civilization, and there can barely be any real large-scale city building and planning without it.

They all start off on the same foot. One or two relatively highly developed technology paths, and the rest at a low level. Then, research must be done to gain new technologies. There is also that low off chance to gain a new technology by some random person in your empire discovering it, or by trading with another empire.

Different civilizations will naturally require different things to be able to exist comfortably in their chosen space. A people living on land where farming is advantageous would first develop agricultural techniques before learning, say, animal husbandry. The same can probably not be said of a clan of loosely interconnected nomads living on the open steppes; they are most likely to learn the basics of warfare, as a means of supplementing what little resources they have. This seeming disparity is actually a good thing. When these two different cultures meet (peacefully!), these technologies will be exchanged, and both sides will have saved a few decades of experimentation and discovery.

In the games, there is more than just simple exchange to fund your pool of knowledge; conquering an enemy nation/civilization gives you access to part of their technology list. This is also something that one can see in history. Nations that are conquered either have their knowledge absorbed by the conquerors, or have their traditions, beliefs, and everything they know buried beneath the adopted customs. As far as I know, this is the easiest way in Civilization 2 to gain advanced technology. Develop your warfare-related techniques enough, and you can then just wait for some other land to learn how to – oh, I don’t know – grow genetically-modified crops before conquering them. Then, pray that it gets offered to you. It’s the easiest way mainly because you avoid the mess known as the political field. I learned quite early on that the enemies are never satisfied with a fair trade.

And that they had a penchant for declaring war on me when they attempt to trade me a second-tier technology for a third-tier one, plus resources. War was unavoidable in Civilization 2. If it was, I never had a game that managed to do so. It was usually either they declared war on me while my warfare was low, or when it was high compared to theirs. In the second case, I usually had two or three different nations declaring war on me within a few turns of each other. This, I think, is another show of how games reflect reality.

Human history isn’t peaceful. We have two World Wars and a Cold War under our belts, and that was achieved in a span of about a thousand years. Empires don’t usually randomly declare war, however. Empires usually chose their targets the same way wild animals do – strike the weak and sick. This nets them land, slaves, and resources without much sacrifice of their own labor and with much less work than persuading a ruler to hand over his crown. On the other hand, when faced with a large threat, nations act the same as pack animals do – they band together to fight off the threat.

With nations, this is a much more sophisticated play than with your wolf pack bringing down caribou. Nations with high military strength are usually large nations. This is because of the basics of civilization: one must have an excess of food before one can do anything else. Large nations have greater land area, and thus a larger resource base. Barring being located in inhospitable terrain, this means that the nation will have enough land to support a large population. Part of the population will be devoted to ensuring a food supply. The rest will go into different specialties. With a large enough population, there will be enough men to form a formidable army. (This can, of course, be lessened with forced drafting, but I that lessens people’s happiness and leads to revolt.) The large land area, however, also means that there is a larger boundary to defend.

With two or three nations at your heels at once, military might is almost sure to be spread quite thin. The focus will certainly be at choke points: a city to which, from outside, there is only one path. This presents a different kind of headache. People actually resent having military walking up and down their streets, apparently, and will tolerate only a certain amount of military presence without complaint.

Given a large enough amount of unrest, people will begin to rise up against their overlord tyrant (you) and make things a fair bit harder. In Civilization 2, this meant that the rest of the country had no access to any resources about that settlement, and all trade within that settlement’s boundaries are halted. This is really a very big problem, especially if the city was very large and provided food for its neighboring settlements. This shows us another trait of history, however.

Civil disorder occurs whenever people are really unhappy. Quite like the French Revolution or, locally, EDSA. As stated, having high civil unrest is bad and annoying.

High civil unrest also causes one other bad point. Remember when I said that there was a low off chance a person from one of your settlements could accidentally discover a new level of technology? I kind of noticed that this happened more often in large settlements near the fringes of my territory. This could have been coincidence, naturally, but I want to think of it as something that the programmers designed to make it a bit more realistic, again. Earlier, I explained that two civilizations would meet and exchange knowledge. It’s very possible that a large amount of traffic occurred in border towns. This traffic would consist mainly of traders from other nations. I like to think that maybe some of my people noticed something that could be done better or at least similarly with what was naturally present in my nation. Thus, *poof*! We have a new technology.

I also saw myself sometimes skipping whole tiers thanks to those events. However, I never reached a tier where I didn’t have all the prerequisite technologies from other trees. To gain the chariot, for example, one must have the technology of the wheel. To develop the ability to train a phalanx, one must first have spears. To have a charioteer with a spear, one must have both a chariot and a phalanx. This shows another characteristic of human achievement: we have a linearly interconnected technology tree.

That’s how human achievement works, I suppose. We take things that already exist and use them to create something new. Innovation and invention. Creation and supplementation. The technology of the modern flat-screen television, for example, combines many different branches of physics, and even some chemistry. The same can be said of ancient technologies.

That is how computer games can teach us history. I wouldn’t rely on them for history lessons, though. In one of my games, I had a France bigger than China. Unless France suddenly decided its land area was ten times larger, I don’t think that can happen.

花火と氷

2007-06-10T21:37:00.000+08:00

The title this time around is "Fireworks and Ice".

This post is more or less about my first week back at school.

I got assigned to 3-Rubidium. Now, that would usually not be bad, but I got stuck with a fair number of people I don't particularly like or care for. In fact, if I could set fire to a building and throw a few Rubidium people in it, I would probably gladly do so. Not as much for the sadistic pleasure of such, but more for their disappearance from the landscape of whatever events that might transpire from here on out.

Even more bad news: our section was exceptionally unlucky with regard to teachers. Even worse (at least for me), our section's course for Computer Science 3 is Web Development. This, of course, means that I don't get Object-Oriented Programming. And I wanted to get that too.

Strangely enough, I feel so much more stressed this time around compared to second year or first year. It's probably because I now worry about my grades a little. A little, yeah right. More like a lot. I so want that highest honors award.

I also spent my second-ever in-school birthday. It would - should - have gone as usual, with me spending the day lazing about and with not a soul knowing that it was my birthday. But I decided that I would tell a few people. Mostly reminding people who already knew but forgot over time, like the people from my first year class. And a few other people who had known but had forgotten due to work or school. When people began hearing them greet me, however, I was suddenly slightly flooded by more greetings.

After school, I was already very happy. So happy that I decided to put it on my YM status message. When people saw that, however, I was flooded by even more greetings. The next day, too, from the people who were uninformed but were informed by little piglets. Even from a couple of people I never thought would ever greet me. Even the sick feeling I had during that day and the day before didn't stop me from enjoying myself.

It's strange, really. A few of them, I remember clearly the birthdays of. It's probably because I found their birthdays out before I had many things to keep track of, but still. For most of them, I don't even know their birthdays.

It was a week of festivities and developments, sorrows and rather unnecessary tears, a few headaches, and a lot of re-meetings. I'll probably forget this week when I begin losing my sanity and stressless-ness to third year work. It was fun, though. I want so many things to happen, but I think I can content myself with what's happened so far. So many people have made me a part of their lives, that I can now feel somewhat how my presence affects others. I am semi-officially the "お姉さま" - big sister - of Inkwell, as well as the glorified secretary titled their "Information Director".

水の音

2007-05-20T21:43:00.000+08:00

The title, in all-format written English, is "The Sound of Water".

It's strange, isn't it, that so many things can come and go without warning. A sound, a drop of water, a grain of sand in the eternal hourglass of time, a friend. Like so many before, the people who've promised me that they'll be there for me are gone again.

Like a single moment in time when a drop of water splashes and its sound is heard reverberating in empty space, those moments when all those happenings are in my mind. Like the flow of water and its creation of endless gurgles of sound in space, those moments when all those happenings are being played again and again.

I'll trust in those friends who said they won't leave me.

I'll trust in them, at least for now.

I want to see them, to talk to them, maybe to push them off a mini-cliff for leaving me in the dark for so long. But, I'll hold myself back for a bit. I'll trust in those people who said wholeheartedly that they won't forget me.

I've had enough of being forgotten. I've been forgetting so many things, so many places, and so many people -- so many memories that I should've held just a little bit closer. The sound of falling rain reminds me of all those things, all those rainy days spent sloshing through the flood to get to the bus, all those times spent in a stuffy AC-less bus with wooden slats/shutters up and pressing my face against a small, termite-bitten hole in the corner of the slat beside my seat. It's not raining right now, or else I might smell the ever-identifiable smell of wet plantlife from Saint Jude and Phil. Sci. I can remember so many things, and yet I realize I've forgotten so much as well.

When was the last time I thought of all the times I had spent -- all my nine years of at least once a day -- riding a bus? When was the last time I thought of those people who made that long and often steaming hot ride?

It's amazing how a chance encounter with a friend can do to a person. All of these thoughts are now running through my mind because I saw one of those busmates this afternoon, while shopping for a book or two. I didn't remember her at first. It took me a few more seconds and a reminder of what we had shared after I said that I didn't remember her anymore before I did recall. And to think that I had just been thinking about her the night before. I suppose, I can give the excuse that she didn't look anything like I had remembered. Her ever-present glasses were gone, for one.

But, it's strange. As soon as I remembered her name, I remembered more conversations and more days than before. Kind of like finding some precious memoir after fifty years or something.

It isn't easy. Being a friend -- or even just being a human -- is never easy.

It's not as simple as talking. But that's the first step.

No, that's wrong. The first step is looking in the other's eyes and putting to memory that person's name.

The next step is the actual talking, and making many memories.

It's all those memories that the sound of water brings back to me. It's not just the sound of water, anyway. It's the heat of the sun, the game played, the bright clouds in the sky.

All these things, I pray, I'll never forget. I know someday I will, but I hope I will never forget the names and faces and voices and the things I shared with all these people.

みんあ忘れない

Spiderman and Finding Lesamien

2007-05-13T16:22:00.000+08:00

Last Sunday, I went out again with some friends who I don't often see or talk to.

The original plan was to watch Spiderman 3.

Unfortunately, due to a number of random things that occurred, me and my sister were unable to watch it, but we were instead occupied with chatting with them.

It was fun.

I was looking forward to it, though not nearly as much now that I've heard reports from some people who've watched it. It apparently goes and does its own thing and doesn't even touch much of what was previously established in the previous movies.

Enough said.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The second part of this is related to the Dungeons and Dragons character I made up for the Inkwell Roleplaying sessions.

In as much as I'm used to creating characters for novels and such, I haven't exactly had much experience in the roleplaying side of them. Thus far, I only have one real RP character - Vasanti - who I can usually adapt to most roles or situations. With this character, however, I have trouble with actually figuring out how she grows.

Granted, I have an excuse in the form of the fact that I've been working with Vasanti for a total of 3 years already. And I've been working with Lesamien (who will be typed as Lesa from now on) for about 3 weeks.

And, though I've just finished her backstory (something I've never done with any other character, really), I still feel as if I don't really know Lesa all that well. I know enough that I know her personality and a couple of her quirks. But, I don't really know her core - who she really is underneath everything I made her out to be and become. Unlike Vasanti, I don't think I can just take Lesa and throw her around stories without a lot of work.

So, what really forms a character that one can use?

For me, what is most important is definitely an understanding of the character. Just like I would study another person's attitude and persona, I form a character's core. My characters aren't often made with a purpose in mind. I tend to build them first, then I put them in a position that actually fits them.

A trick I often use is that I try to pretend that the character is in front of me. I study their movements, gestures, and even their words. I then write these observations down and infer their personality from there.

And here we see the problem with Lesa.

Unlike most other characters I've made, Lesa was kind of forced to fit into a mould. I already had a class I wanted to play (a ranger/druid) and a race (Wood Elf). Because of this, I had to create Lesa with a plan in mind, and I pushed her into it.

If I remember correctly, I once had Lesa in a story. She was, however, quite different from the person that she's become. Her most prominent trait was once her raw loyalty towards a person she had sworn to keep from danger. Oh, and the fact that she had a foil helped. In the D&D setting, she still has a sort-of foil, but she was quite restricted by the nature of a Wood Elf.

She had to become a very different individual.

And, I think, that's probably why I have to work so hard with her.

Les Miserables and Nanoha Reviews

2007-04-22T19:47:00.000+08:00

This post is dedicated solely to reviews of Les Miserables (The book and the 1998 movie) and Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha. If you are reading/watching them, run away if you hate spoilers. Post won't be totally filled with them, but there will be enough to spoil if you aren't at the last parts yet. This will also be filled with my reflections on the characters and such, making a very long post.

Disclaimer: I do not own Les Miserables, the movie or the book, nor do I own Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha. I am simply giving my thoughts on them.

Les Miserables

Where to start? Let's start with the movie.

Never, ever watch the 1998 Les Miserables movie. I was able to watch parts of it last night on Cinema One - the Filipino movie channel. I had the feeling when I first saw it (Jean Valjean at the table with Bishop Bienvenu and his sister) that it was Les Miserables, and that was confirmed a few minutes later. Since I'd just finished the book, I was quite curious about the movie adaptation.

And I was very disappointed.

For one, the layout of the Bishop's house is wrong. Now, normally I wouldn't mind this - lots of movies take a couple of liberties with the layout of locations - if not for the fact that it actually seemed as if the Bishop was just waiting for his silver to get stolen. I mean, in the book, the closet with the silver is locked (though the key is always in the lock) and it's at the head of the bishop's bed (which you have to go past to get from his guestroom to his door). The movie has the guestroom connected to the dining room connected to the front door, making getting the silver without seeing the bishop very very possible. That wouldn't have been so bad - had the Bishop not woken up and, having seen the silver and Valjean's bag, get punched by Valjean. From that scene on, I had great reservations about the accuracy of the film.

I managed to watch it without squirming much until they got to M-sur.-M. For some weird reason, they throw the timeline very well off. Javert gets assigned par usual, but Fauchelevent gets caught under his cart five seconds after Javert introduces himself to M. Madeleine. Oh, and, Fauchelevent screams, "Tulungan mo ako, Valjean! (Help me, Valjean!)". I'm not sure if it's the fault of the dubbers or of the film itself, but whoever heard of an idiot that was running from the police and doesn't change his name!? (I will, however, use his fake identity in this part.) Madeleine also retrieves his fortune from Lafitte - who apparently has set up a large banking business in a town that has only M. le Maire as its rich person - and rushing away as the lady overseer asks him what to do about Fantine, who has just been found to have a child. In the musical, Madeleine does indeed leave Fantine's fate in the hands of an overseer (a male one, at that. The musical neglects that Madeleine designed his factory such that females and males are separate.), but has no clue about Fantine's situation. In the book, he never gets to hear about this. In the movie, he hears from the overseer that Fantine might just have a child, who she thinks is illegitimate. I do not believe that the Valjean of the book would just rush to bury his money (not even knowing that Javert suspected him nor any knowledge of Cosette). The film makes it seem as if he wanted his money to stay safe with him.

At this point, I stopped watching, though I tuned in again near the very end.

Javert was with Valjean when I finally had the courage to start watching again. I saw that they were beside a river, so I wasn't quite surprised yet. I was thinking, "Ah, they've just gotten out of the sewer. But where's Marius?", when, all of a sudden, they show a shot of Javert having handcuffs on himself. At this point, my eyebrows raised to the level of my hairline. Then, Valjean still watching like an idiot, Javert falls over backwards into a rather still river.

Here, I must say, the movie ends. Quite annoyingly, in fact, as Valjean jogs off looking very very pleased with himself. No mention of Marius and Cosette's wedding, nor of Valjean's death. We're also left in doubt as to the fortune he amassed while M. Madeleine, as he still lives as a poor man as far as I saw, and there is no mention of it being used for Cosette's dowry. Also, I do not believe Valjean would just watch Javert jump off to his own death without a single word.

My eyebrows would have gone off my face if they could.

And, now, on to the book.

I loved the book, though I have a few quips about Hugo's using his book to publish essays over a couple of hundred pages long. I believe he has a digression on the evils of a convent, one on slang, one on Waterloo, and another shorter one on barricades. The story relied quite heavily on a coincidence, and, quite amusingly, Hugo uses and reuses the same terms for his characters. If he says "a police officer", it's almost always Javert. If he says, "a man" or "a bourgeois", it's usually Jean Valjean. This is fine, as it could be considered a literary device.

I won't discuss the book much, as I believe a number of my readers have only just begun to read it, or are already excessively familiar with it. I'll put up another post on Les Mis the Book if people ask me to, though.

Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha (and A's)

This is the most beautiful anime I've watched in a while. The animation is beautiful and the story is also quite interesting, though slightly cliche. It seems this series is pretty popular; there's an ongoing third season and the torrents for the first two are still very healthy.

The series is set mostly in Uminari City, a fictional city beside the sea in Japan. Here lives Nanoha Takamachi, a third-grader who has no idea about her special skills and talents and has therefore no idea about what she's going to do in the future, and her family. I won't go into too much detail here about what she does, but rest assured that it involves world-saving and magic, but not Card Captor Sakura-style magic.

In fact, I quite like the magical system here.

Instead of pre-set spells and items for casting them, the Nanoha world's magic is basically very advanced technology. The technology basically "reads" the user's will and converts it into a workable form. This is, in my opinion, a bit more believable than CCS's Card and Talisman system. Also, in this world, most every person has the potential to use magic. However, not every person has enough willpower and magical energy to physically manifest it.

Another cool feature is the intelligent devices. I've just watched the first episode of StrikerS, and I don't think Tea and Subaru are using intelligent devices like Raging Heart or Bardiche. These devices seem much more advanced than the others, to the point that they have their own wills. They speak in English, for some weird reason, though the Wolkenritter (The Velka-type knights) and Hayate have intelligent devices that speak in German. If you're a very big stickler for grammar, avoid the second and third seasons, as Raging Heart's speech is sometimes very strange.

It seems I'll be having a wonderful wonderful week rewatching Nanoha and rereading Les Mis.

Thoughts in a Movie House

2007-03-23T21:29:00.000+08:00

I was watching Mr. and Mrs. Norbit this afternoon, as stated in my other blog.

Apart from all the weird scenes and lines, I was also asking a few questions over the course of the film.

Of course, at the beginning of the film, we're shown the "happy family life" of Norbit and Rasputia. Afterwards, we see Norbit getting exasperated and even angry at the kind of life he has. So much so that he throws away his wedding ring.

My question is, why did he even get married to Rasputia anyway?

From the beginning, he already pretty much knew how Rasputia was. He saw her practically all the time; there's no way he could've neglected seeing her bad traits. Unless, of course, Rasputia hid her true nature and began showing it only after they married. Also, Rasputia has a face not even her own mother could love.

From this, we either conclude that Norbit is a real idiot, or that he needed something that he saw in Rasputia.

The story states early on that Norbit was raised in an orphanage. I missed this during the very first part because I was late, though I picked it up after a couple of minutes. Orphaned children tend to need to cling on to somebody - actually, any child does. The difference is that normal children have parents; orphans don't. Missing family, especially parents, I guess Norbit was drawn to Rasputia's powerful presence - and the fact that she had a family which, as Norbit states, treated him like family too, at least from his point of view. Eventually, Norbit does become part of the family, and finds that it isn't really the kind of family he wanted.

Of course, Norbit didn't complain at first. From the scenes where Rasputia puts on all sorts of costumes, we can easily assume that they had spent at least half a year together before their fight over Rasputia's cheating. Norbit apparently plays the part of the "under" husband (he doesn't drive, doesn't do much in terms of income, doesn't fight Rasputia over ANYTHING really). Although Rasputia seems to value him somewhat (she goes through the trouble of making up an excuse for his having found her naked in bed with her tap-dancing instructor against just telling him to keep quiet about it), although I suppose this could also just be her wanting to remain "blameless", at least in her eyes.

I find it quite weird that she keeps blaming Norbit of moving her seat back when she appears to know fully well that Norbit can't drive. Again, I think, this is also her personality trait of keeping herself "blameless". This also shows up during her cursing scenes while inside a church; she seems to think that it's graver to utter a curse while in the house of God than to threaten to melt her husband's love interest's head with acid.

Another repetitive thing in the movie is its affinity for racism. The first instance I saw of this was during Norbit's growing-up days, when Rasputia's brother, Big Black (I believe), tells him that he's expecting an important phone call, so "try to sound White." The second - or at least a very glaring one - is Mr. Wong's admittance that he's very racist. This might just be the first time I see a "good guy" who's racist. The third instance was during the presentation of "Dion"'s ex-wives. For some reason, there was a White, a Black, and an Asian - likely Chinese. Granted, there was no form of prejudism in that scene, I find it funny that Dion thought there wouldn't be any way he could be tracked through his wives - probably because he thinks there wouldn't be anybody who'd see any connection between them.

I guess the movie's trying to show that everybody has some degree of racism.

Of course, we can't forget the thingy that seems to show up a lot in everything I've been reading these last few days - prostitution. The Latimores plan to buy out the orphanage to build a strip bar named something I can't write. A couple of Norbit's friends seem to be something similar to gigolos, gleamed from leading lady Kate's line, "... condom advice from...". I didn't really process what she said after the word "from", but I don't think somebody who hasn't been using condoms a lot would know to give advice on it. Then, of course, we have the very final scene where Rasputia works at the Latimore's strip bar, where she's apparently their star.

Linked to prostitution is a love of all things material. Pleasure, used in its most carnal - and explicit - sense, is pretty much shown during Rasputia's affair scene. The lust for power is best exemplified by the Latimore's total control over the town using fear - or at least, fear of being sat on by Rasputia. We're best shown this during the scene where Rasputia is in the salon with Kate, with everybody bowing down to her. Norbit seems blissfully unaware of the power the Latimores have, though he fears Rasputia's brother, as he describes the Latimore's line of work (forcing people to sell their property for excessively low prices, and beating them up if they refuse) in a very innocent way.

Then, of course, we have the love of money. The Latimores all seem to have this in mind. Dion - or whatever name he has - also loves money. When he finds out Kate isn't planning on buying the orphanage for money, he attempts to leave her. He is also persuaded to propose to he using money; the Latimores pull him in using a promise of a percentage of the profits of the strip bar they plan to build on the orphanage's land. Even the tap dancing instructor agrees to "private lessons" with Rasputia because of money.

Who knew, so many things can be gleaned from a 2-hour comedy about making a really big mistake.

Pisay Meets World and more

2007-03-16T00:00:00.000+08:00

It's been a really long time since I last just sat down and typed for a blog entry. I finally had time due to the fact that I have about a week or so before I might be needed in school again. Hopefully not.

I've been really busy with schoolwork, apparently, and all of the work I've been required by my groupmates to do for our Pisay Meets World project is finally done. Somehow, I think I should have just gone and done a solo project. It would have meant less expense and a lot less stress. Plus, I wouldn't have had to lower my opinion of one of my groupmates.

The Pisay Meets World project made a lot of things clearer to me. I saw how we as Pisay scholars think others see us, and the contrast between that and how others really do. It made me realize that I really, truly disliked coloring my work unless the work was designed with coloring in mind, and that some people don't always respect my right to choose how I do my work. It also caused a lot of stress, though I kind of made up for that with my 11-hour sleep-a-thon today. It also made me see that expectations were placed upon us without us even knowing it.

As scholars, all of us are expected to become somebody great. It sounds glorious, but it isn't. There are things that we can't do, and I really dislike it when we 'fail' to deliver and get those looks that seem to say, "Why weren't you able to do it? You're the best, aren't you?" The first couple of times that happened to me, I couldn't answer. I didn't have one yet. But, since I started my second year last June, I've slowly come to realize how personal that answer has to be.

My answer is that I might have the idea, but I can't always fulfill that idea on my own; there are still many things I don't know or understand, especially about the way people interpret my actions, but I'm trying as hard as I can.

It doesn't sound personal, but that's on purpose. I'd have to reveal too much.

So, what does all this have to do with Pisay Meets World?

A lot. That project is a showcase of how we student-scholars think, work, relate, and realize. Many of us poured our blood, sweat, and tears into those videos, podcasts, and blogs. There were fights, arguments, and falling-outs. Of course, not all groups have a sob story to tell. Some groups already had a well-formed, agreed-upon idea, and pulled it off without a hitch. Some groups were still lucky, though they might have crammed a thing or two.

The project was also a battle against laziness, pressure, and plain irresponsibility. Though some of the group members might have been able to finish their personal components early on, pressure was put upon them by members chasing after the bonus given by the highest grade - the A++. Of course, like with me, the other members might just be unable to see that a drawing can still be good even without inking and coloring. Granted, I already had an A++, so I didn't care so much about it. It kinda makes me feel like I should've gone for being a blog writer for it too instead of being one of the artists. Anyway, laziness and irresponsibility made it harder for many to finish. Our project was barely able to meet the original deadline.

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Now for the "and more" part.

I've been shedding more tears than I normally do recently, and it isn't because I'm sad.

First of all, I just spent my last day with my class. It was an exam day, but there was an agreement to have a homeroom session after the exams were done. Instead of attending the majority of that session, I watched the Les Miserables play put on by one of the fourth-year classes, due in large part to the fact that Ahia was playing a major role in it.

I'm not so sure if I made the right decision.

According to stories from the people who actually attended it, it was half a failure. Everybody was so eager to go home by halfway through the time allotment that they trimmed their goodbyes down and didn't say anything to those they had "unresolved issues" with. I kind of wonder how things would have turned out had I really stayed, but I know I shed tears thinking that I didn't try as hard as I could've in bonding with them. Sure, I was around, but more like an accessory for the class than a part of it. I guess I was still under the influence of Ruby and all sections I had before. It's not that I wasn't accepted or appreciated this time, either. I was, but I was too scared of getting shoved away again that I didn't get too close to any of them.

But still, it was in this class that I found a person who still talked to me after a year of knowing me. Talk as in more than just plain hellos and his. Talk as in the real conversations that really made me enjoy being with that person more. Even though I might see her a little differently now, that appreciation as the person who fulfilled that lonely dream still remains.

Secondly, I found out how much meaning is read into my actions. Even though I don't notice anything wrong with what I'm doing, other people do.

I've rarely been around many people. I have a rather introverted streak, so I don't usually get very close to people. Those people that I do get close to tend to understand me a lot. I'm not sure how or why, but most of the people I choose to get close to tend to have the capacity for seeing a person's nature even if their actions suggest differently. Unfortunately, because of the small number of people I am close to, I understand very little about how other people interpret my actions. I'm really very thankful, and very sorry to, the people who I've become a problem to because of this.

I cried because I realized how different I could have been if I weren't so closed off.

I probably wouldn't be in Pisay, first off, and have a few more friends. I'd have probably made many decisions very differently, and my actions would also be different. I'm ashamed of myself, but at the same time, I realize how much I've tried to grow. I'm already very different from the person I was when I started the year, hopefully a better person. I've made a couple more good friends, and gotten closer to the people I am already friends with. Also, I've tried to rekindle my old ties with friends, most of whom have very dim memories of, if not forgotten totally, me.

But that's okay.

I've long accepted the fact that it isn't always that the people around me will still be there for me a year or ten later. Even though I wished so long and hard for the people I'm close to to never grow distant, it hasn't happened yet. All I can do is move on, try to find another friend. There isn't anything else I can do really. At least, that's how I thought until just a few days ago.

People are always just waiting for me, too. Just like I was always waiting for them to talk to me, they were waiting for me to talk to them too. We're still friends, and nothing can really take the place of whatever it was that we did together. The same goes for the friends I have now, too. I know I might someday forget how they look, how their voices sound like, even what things I shared with them. But, for sure, I won't forget what they all mean to me.

I've been lonely. I still am, even though I'm less so. I tend to be very loyal, so it always hurts a lot when the people who I thought would always be there aren't there anymore.

In any case, it's the summer now. I wonder how many friends I can keep through 2 months of sun, heat, and apartness?

Memoirs

2007-02-11T12:29:00.000+08:00

I went back to my old school yesterday. It's been a fair few months since I was last there. Besides, I wasn't exactly able to go and look around as I wanted last time. But, yesterday, I wandered around and saw just how much something can change in a span of two years.

It has a whole brand new building, for crying out loud!

A brand new building with three or four badminton courts, four fully-equipped computer rooms, a dance room, and a nice big chapel. I wish they had finished that while I was there.

Lots of things were renovated, too. The entrance now has a nice big sign over it proclaiming the school's status as a school and not an oversized garage. The roof was painted a bright and sparkly white.

But, as they say, the more things change, the more they stay the same. So many things were still as I remembered them. The men's rooms were still as stinky as ever. The rooms still had their same cluttered, tired look.

Either way, I still got bored there. I still wish Ahia Ivan went with me, even though I doubt he would have enjoyed himself. Then again, he's really childish...

Falling Stars

2006-12-30T20:47:00.000+08:00

There was a meteor shower here a few days ago, they say. I wasn't able to watch it, due mainly to the fact that it was at 2 AM local time. I wish I had, though. I've never seen a shooting star, or any other stellar phenomena save for constellations. We once went to the planetarium for a field trip last year, but all that was discussed was the identification of constellations. Same thing with the Star-gazing activity, practically.

They say that you should wish on a shooting star, because it'll carry your wishes to the god it has to bring a message to. I don't actually believe in things like that so much anymore, but it makes me kinda wonder: What would I wish for?

People who go to my other blog know very well my wishlist. A good number of the wishes there are crossed out already. I've still got a lot of things I want to wish for. I'd probably wish for a chance to see things the way another person does, for one. Another would be more chances to have fun with people I care for. Just no photographs. I don't particularly like being photographed.

In my mind, rain is falling. It's nearly the new year, and I'm feeling a tiny bit introspective.

How much did I change this past year?

For one, I'm a bit more vain. That's thanks to Ahya. For another, I've experienced a lot of new things. I've been practically drowned -- thrice, in fact. I've got a new cellphone, thanks in part to my real Ahya. I've gotten about half an inch taller, and a fair deal thinner. I've also gotten accused of having crushes; yes, that's new. In 2005, I was just accused of being in a relationship with somebody. I've finally tasted Starbucks drinks. I've gotten a chance to hang out with friends. I've slept over at classmates' houses. I've hurt somebody. And I've made new friends.

And how am I still me?

I'm still the same lazy self I've always been. My birthday is still a lost cause, still buried very very deep in the unfathomably deep memories of my batchmates. I still sleep in class, though that's been lessened somewhat. I still dislike loud noises; in fact, I'm planning on finding a pair of earplugs and a pair of firing range headphones tomorrow, before the fireworks go off. I still haven't received more than five Christmas gifts. I've still been able to refuse really luxurious gifts my parents ask me if I wanted; this year, it was a PDA, which I don't need anyway. I'm still the slightly warped and confused mind I've always been.

In my mind, snow is falling. I've never seen snow, and I can see what I wish to see.

I wish that I joined the Paskorus somewhat. I wish I had been there with my classmates, though I doubt if I'd be of any help to them. I wish that I was at least able to watch them perform, though. I wish that I didn't go and mess up Ahya's hair so much; he got mad at me, even though I said sorry. I wish that I'd been able to help my class out more. I wish that I managed to do more of what I loved.

I will miss a lot of things. I lost a lot of things. I gained a lot of things. And I'll probably go through more next year.

Pissed, and Not Pissed

2006-12-17T23:48:00.000+08:00

I switched the "Comment Moderation" to on.

Why? Because my blog is neither a place to find a boyfriend for god knows whatever reason nor a place to advertise VIAGRA of all things.

Normally, I'd let stuff like this slip. Unfortunately, since I never get any good comments anyway, I've decided that it would be far less work and fury for me if I do it this way.

Anyway...

I had Starbucks in a Starbucks branch, at long last, last Thursday. I was with a couple of friends who I practically forced to ask me to go out with them, but I think we had fun nonetheless. So that's one less Christmas wish off my list.

I also amazed them with how much I can scrimp and save over some things, and suddenly empty my wallet at the sight of a bookstore with a good book.

I bought "The Guardian" by Nicholas Sparks. I'd been looking for that book since September, so I'm happy that I got it. I'm still looking for more books though. What can I say, I love books. And I have since I was really little, apparently. My dad recently told me a story about how kids were put on a mat on the floor. On the four corners of the mat would be toys, food, clothing, books, or anything else the parents might want to try. It seems that it was done to determine what sort of thing the kid was most attracted to. One can contest that there is some kind of bias here; more often than not, the kid will just run towards the first thing he or she sees. Based on my dad's story though, that wasn't the case with me.

It seems that I always turned my head and looked around for the book pile.

So, in any case, I'm still not in that bad a mood.

Strains of Song

2006-12-02T12:05:00.000+08:00

I need a break. I've been working practically non-stop on my Tianxiaverse project, and I'm still not done. Then again, I've been procrastinating like there's no tomorrow. I blame it on my hating my writer's guts (and brain and rectum).

I'll try to put up a pic or two of my finished works next time. For now, this post will be a hurried-type, semi-flatliner post. So no A pluses for what I'll be putting here.

Ever notice how a song just seems to stick in your head? I've had this a couple of times, generally during exams when I finish early and have about an hour or so to kill. First quarter's song was Kawabe Chieko's Sakura Kiss. Second quarter's was Lia's Girls Can Rock. Wonder what third quarter's song will be, especially since I've recently updated my music collection with more music.

Now again, I wonder what the difference between loving and liking is. I like a lot of people, most especially those who can treat me fairly. But I'm not at all sure what loving someone is. I love my family, for sure. I love my Ahyas and my "school Shobes" in much the same way. However, since people have begun teasing me about guys, I wonder how my treatment of them is interpreted. By now, I've learned that the best way to cheer up one particular person who's been teasing me is to utter a line about my going out of my way to try to see a guy, or maybe an experience I had together with him. I don't react so much anymore. I smile, especially since some of their conclusions are actually pretty funny. Back to the idea - how other people see how I treat them. I suppose I do treat the only Ahya I've got in school pretty special, or so it may seem. I treat all my Ahyas practically the same way, but other people aren't able to see me when I'm with those other Ahyas. As for the other guy they keep teasing me about, I treat him as I would any other guy, except that I treat him a bit more familiarly.

Strange thing is, I treat these guys as I would a girl, only less huggy-wuggy and more calmly.

Before anybody goes mad reading that last line, I'd better explain how I treat most girls.

Since most girls in my batch are months younger than me, I tend to treat them like I would my Shobe. This normally entails listening to them and giving them advice and hugging them when they need it. Now, most guys are also younger than me. Since I don't have a baby brother, I treat guys a fair bit worse than I treat girls. Translation: general rule is, I'm nice to girls, fairly neutral to guys.

So now we see the problem.

For the strange-minded, I do not hug them. I want to try, but one of them's going to hate me forever and the other's kinda hard to hug. Neither do I give them advice. They are both older than me, for goodness sake, and are both thankfully mature.

And there we see the idiocy in assuming I want to get together with one of them.

Being mature entails putting aside a love life for studies -- almost. Most mature people understand that high school isn't exactly the best place to be looking for a lifelong partner. Most mature people also understand that crushes aren't all that bad -- as long as you don't act on them.

In other news, I think I'm going to post a Christmas wishlist on my other blog. Wish me luck getting 12 slots filled.

Tell, oh Tell

2006-11-17T20:13:00.000+08:00

I've looked over the list of people I call 'Ahya' this lunch.

It actually surprised me that, in as far as I thought I didn't have a criterion for choosing people to call by that title, I actually have a "list of criteria for judging", so to speak.

First off, all of them are people I respect. You know, the sort of people you tend to look up to because they're really mature or really nice or stuff like that. In my case, I respect them because they were the sort of people who were there for me when I need them. I don't ask for help, but that doesn't mean I don't need help. These people were there to help me sort out a problem. They were there to talk to me, listen to me, or simply to tell me that I can handle it.

Second, they're all quite intelligent. This needs no more explaining, I think.

Third, these are all people I believe in. Those times when you just believe in someone so much that you don't question their decisions like you would with your own? That kind of belief.

Then again, they've also shared similar 'outcomes'.

For the first two people I've called Ahya, excluding my real brother, they're both extremely busy. I rarely have the chance to talk with them. I just hope I can really speak with them again.

For the most recent addition to the list, he's leaving in March, as he's a fourth year. I do believe he's applied for a number of international universities. He's already a workaholic here; I don't think I'd be able to talk to him again at all.

Okay, I know I'm being all soft and sappy here, but bear with me. The philosophical discussion is coming up.

People come and people go. I've been faced with that truth countless times. That was one of the reasons why I shut myself off during my grade school days. Why should I face the fact that a friendship never lasts forever? Once people are separated, they rarely stay very good friends. I've heard people say that they'll never forget each other, that they'll always be there for each other. I've seen these same people float apart. I never tried to question why; I accept it as fact that people aren't always going to be there for me. So it's pointless to let people in and expect them to be there for you when you need them.

I wish I had a friend who'd be there for me. I try to be there for other people, but I doubt that most of these people would be there for me. It hurts a lot when I have something I desperately need to talk to somebody about, but can't. It hurts a lot when I can't tell these people, "I need you." It hurts, because I know I could, just that I won't. I'm the person other people turn to for help. This isn't synonymous with "I can't turn to others for help", but it implies it. I'm the person other people see as mature and all that. I am mature only because I have to be, for my parents and for those who've come to rely on me.

At times I wonder, what would other people be like if I weren't here? I've heard the story of how I was the prayed-for child, the child who brings luck and joy. Even my Chinese name shows how important I am to my parents - 寶桂 - "Precious" and a kind of Autumn flower similar to the Sakura of Japan.

I wonder, when will I finally love someone enough that I can tell them, "I love you"?

Revival

2006-11-11T13:45:00.000+08:00

Quite obviously, I haven't posted in a while. I blame this on school and my own lack of initiative.

Rereading my last couple of posts, I've noticed I sound a bit like a 12-year old girl in love. While I am female, I am currently neither 12 nor in love. I've heard stories where things work out and when things fall apart. I'm a writer, I should've. In most of them, the girl's all giddy and head-over-heels "in love". I've rarely heard of a story where the girl doesn't make a fool of herself in front of the guy she likes. Unfortunately, there are many stories where guys play it cool and get a girl who likes them too.

I'm considered abnormal. I've never had a crush before, and I'm not exactly into the whole girl-guy relationship thing here. But in the society of high school where practically every girl has an interest in other girls' love lives, be they existent or not, being love-life apathetic isn't the best thing to be. I'll admit this much: I've had feelings for guys before, but infatuation is a common happening, and I've never allowed myself to act on infatuations. I can say I'm pretty good at that. I've never had to tiptoe through a bed of nails around guys, at least.

Now that I think about it, I might just really be scared of having a relationship. Once again, we always see stories where the girl (or the guy) becomes really depressed after a break-up. And these things do happen in real life. We never know how we'll run into sorrow, but sorrow is just a result of actions we've done, sometimes. For now, if I can avoid experiencing it, I'm happy. Yes, I know, naive and innocent thinking, but right now, who cares?

Recently, I've been dreaming a lot. Mostly stuff that happens in school. Mostly stuff that deals with relationships and burials. I hope this bodes all right.

Flying Dreamer

2006-10-14T23:04:00.000+08:00

Currently Listening to: Honoo no Tobira by FictionJunction YUUKA
Beautiful insert song from Gundam Seed when Freedom appears. While I'm not a big fan of the Gundam series, I am a good digger of their music; a number of it is really good. This particular one was given to me by the Black Lion - one of our teachers at school. It's a ballad and is therefore quite slow, but it has a slightly faster part where a violin plays that is just awesome.

Currently Reading: Nothing; hoping that the Black Lion decides to bring the book I've wanted to borrow for a while now.

The first semester officially ended two days ago, with the final scratch of first and third year students' pens. It was a finality I didn't really hear. I spent all that time in the Math Unit happily discussing stuff with a couple of people I've grown to really like over the last month like I now always do - a teacher and a big brother to me. Apart from finding out that Les Miserables by Victor Hugo originally spanned ten whole volumes, I also found out that butterfly caterpillars do poo. If they eat pink carnations, they poo a pink capsule-like poo. And the caterpillar itself was soft and squishy.

Apart from that, I also told them about a bunch of dreams I'd been having. The first one had my older brother actually marrying somebody. That would normally not be weird, but he has this philosophy of girlfriends in which he describes them as, "A waste of money." This prompted Big Brother to say, "A girlfriend takes a lot of time and money."

The second one had me actually getting into a relationship, with whom, I won't say here. I will say, however, that the teacher laughed out loud when I told her who. And she actually scared me by saying that the time that I dreamed that meant that I secretly longed for it to happen. She later said that she was joking. She was laughing at my reaction during that time though. And, no, I am not interested in pursuing a guy for a romantic relationship. I do have a number of people to whom I'd really say "I will" if they ask me to be their girlfriend, but I am not the sort of girl who'd chase after a guy.

The third one had my little sister busting her fifth confessor. She's already busted one and she's eleven. I fear for her future suitors.

Today, I went to one of my classmates' house for another Art project. The theme is Avant-garde, so we had to be really creative. Thankfully, National Bookstore had corrugated cardboard in the color we needed. Because of that, we saved something around a hundred pesos. Now, because we were all female, the discussion eventually turned to men. Because of that discussion, they are now accusing me of having a crush on a third-year guy and Big Brother. Pain in the neck today turned out to be.

But still, I do have things to be very happy about. I'm thankful that mosquito larvae don't all grow up female for one, because I helped nurture about 10,000 larvae during my 45-minute wait at school for my ride home. I'm also thankful that Les Miserables has mostly abridged copies, as I am not like Big Brother who thinks that a book four times thicker than the abridged copy is much better - most of the time. I'm happy that the Avant-garde is going better than expected, and that I got to play in a sandbox for the first time today. I'm glad that I saw Ma'am's rare breed of gumamela (Chinese Rose). I'm glad that my periodicals so far are passing. I'm happy that I'm still alive to see another day, be it full of suffering or of pleasant times.

I'm glad that I'm free to like whom I choose.

And I'm glad that I can dream under a clear sky.

Storm Brewing

2006-09-30T14:15:00.000+08:00

Finally, after nearly two whole days, power and net access are back. Typhoon Milenyo (International name Xangsane) belted out in full fury Thursday and pretty much left us on Friday. I was able to watch a couple of news reports during the time of the blackout thanks to the godly generator which was pumping a fluctuating amount of power to the building. Apparently, the winds were strong enough for it to topple two container vans and a truck. Not the usual, little truck, but the big, wheels-in-the-dozens trucks. Plus, it sent a number of the billboards along Epifanio De Los Santos Avenue and I think Quezon Avenue flying. I personally witnessed less shocking sights; namely the flying of a dust pan, the electrical post in front of our window swaying a couple of feet, and a few windows getting knocked clean off their hinges.

Makes me wonder why they don't just put powerlines and telephone wires underground instead of hanging them twelve feet in the air on poles. That way it won't matter how hard the wind blows. Then again, that's really expensive. Unlike what we usually see in those movies and TV series, the areas under our manhole covers here do not have walkways. And they're full-up more often than not with debris such as tetra doy packs, coke bottles, cigarette packettes, and candy wrappers.

When people called that area "tunnel", they meant it literally.

If you fall into one, you'll pretty much be washed out into the Pasig River. If you can hold your breath that long, good for you. If you can't, then just hope somebody sees your body parts floating there.

From what I hear, a good part of the power in Luzon has been restored as of 11:50 PM last night. Bicol has the least restoration; they only have about 58% of their power grid back. Comments and status messages on Yahoo Messenger have been cursing the loss of power in Metro Manila. So I'm not sure if they were lying on the news, but PGMA has personally expressed her wrath.

PAGASA says that Milenyo behaved abnormally; first off, they never expected it to hit Metro Manila, much less be the worst in two decades. Second, it was abnormally strong for a typhoon that hit landmass before heading to the capital.

At least now there will be laws regulating those humongous billboards. They seem to not only be annoying, but also really dangerous. The health sector is a bit happy too; it seems that the typhoon caused a disruption in the breeding cycles of dengue mosquitoes.

Now, with Milenyo gone, we have Neneng, who's just starting to ball up some 2000 km east of Samar. People, stock up on candles and batteries.

Tick Tock

2006-09-25T22:37:00.001+08:00

Just popped in to do some plot-bunny release. Crushedblackice has, once again, succeeded in making my plot bunny hyperactive. So here we go.

The salty sea winds of the summer licked at his face. Rogueish and tanned, he was often looked up to by most of his batch's female population. He never really enjoyed any of it though. Not in the least. He was far too polite to say anything, unfortunately.

The breeze picked up again, sending his hair flying in a halo around his face. He threw it back casually. This was the summer. This was fifty whole, god-given miles and two god-given weeks away from the loud shrieks and overpowering perfumes of school. This was heaven for him. He turned to his right and walked up the path to the solitary lighthouse on the hill.

He pushed open the heavy iron door. The lock had long since rusted away; he distinctly remembered struggling to open the door as a child. He remembered, too, the scent of the locked-up air in the upper room. Only he had the key there. The key to the lonely bedroom at the top of the tall, rickety, spiraling stairs.

Ninety nine steps. A hundred steps. The weather-worn rosewood door was right in front of him. He took the key out from his back pocket. The key was the old-fashioned kind - heavy and silver and carved. This one had carvings of seashells and corals. The lock did too, he noticed, but the carvings were now almost just lines. The beaten silver surface was smooth and cool. He unlocked it and stepped in.

It was almost just as he left it, though he doubted the inch-thick carpet of dust had been there a year ago. The bed with the blue sheets still sat against the far wall, and the pine desk still sat with three thin notebooks on top of it. The bookshelf still had only five books. And the painting sat facing the balcony. The old painting that had never seemed to age. The oil smelled slightly of linseed and the canvas was smooth. The gold frame hadn't rusted away either - it was as shiny and smooth as ever. And the painting itself was timeless then as now.

There was a legend that the painting was based on. The legend of the angel who came down from the sky. Once there lived a humble lighthousekeeper, the keeper of this very lighthouse, in fact. He never left his room. Every night, always tending to the light that burned in the space above his room. Every day, watching the lives all around him having fun on the beach and the ocean below. And then, one day, he saw a shooting star. It was different from the rest of the shooting stars he always saw while tending the fire. So, he went out of the room, for the first time. For the first time in a very, very long time.

The star had fallen a good ways away. The keeper's torch had begun to burn low. Then, he found what he was looking for. In a glade in the forest, near a pristine waterfall, sat a glowing lady. The keeper stepped closer slowly, carefully. The lady looked up at him, and he jumped. She was the prettiest thing he had ever seen, he thought. He stepped a little closer. The lady stood and made to run.

Wait, he said. The lady looked back at him with a puzzled look. He wasn't sure what to make of her expression; was she scared or curious? He tried to speak some more. Hello, he ventured. Instead of saying hello back, the lady just looked at him. Are you lost? he tried again. Still nothing. What's your name? he asked once more.

E...nai...na...

His heart skipped a beat. Enaina! So she could talk! But, was this really her name? Or was she just confused? Enaina, is that your name? he questioned. She just looked at him, again. He breathed out a sigh. Then he saw the wings that peeked out just below her long hair. Are you an angel? he asked, taking another step towards her. Angels were good luck, after all. She didn't seem afraid. She took a step towards him too. He smiled. She smiled too. He extended his hand. She took it.

The keeper lived happily with Enaina for a while. She was quiet and didn't speak much, though she came to know how to speak with him. He was happy, of course.

Then, one day, Enaina took him back to the forest glade. Enaina, what's the matter? he asked her.

I'm sorry... I'll come back, someday...

Enaina!? he shouted. But she was already gone. All that was left was the heavy silver key that was the key to their room at the top of the lighthouse.

He opened his eyes. The balcony breeze had gotten the better of him. He stood up and stretched. The sun was setting now, he noticed. He left the room as he entered it, locking the door behind him. It was always fun swimming at sunset. He'd come back tonight. He'd watch for the falling star that was the angel coming back from the sky above. He'd wait for her, as he always had. As the keeper always had.

Step by Step

2006-09-22T18:37:00.000+08:00

I'm moving forward.

I'm changing, slowly but surely.

I rarely have time to read through my old posts, and I already see a big difference between the me from before and the me now. I think I've begun to actually enjoy life. They say life begins at 40. I say I've already just begun - and I'll probably be reborn more times than I can count.

I think I know a lot. About life, about myself, about others. But who am I kidding? I've been alive far less than most people, and more than just a few people. By our school's standards, I am old. By our world's standards, I've just been born. So, who am I to say that I'm a person who others can turn to for advice? I'm still a kid. Older, yes, but a kid nonetheless. I'm still possessed of a personality that has traces of childishness. I still have a soul that hasn't been toouched by another's, though the thread of my life is already far too entangled with others' to be apart. I have a pain and a joy that is absolutely mine.

Have you ever had the feeling that you're going to die, and you make up excuses to your parents (or even compose a speech to say to them) about why you died? I felt that while I was swimming in the school pool this afternoon. I figured that, if I were to drown under ten feet of water, I'd want to have something to say to my parents if fate'd allow it. I thought that I'd want to thank them, for everything they'd been to me. For giving me a home, and a place to call that. For allowing me to become who I am. I'd say sorry,too, for everything I'd ever hidden from them, and for everything I'd done wrong. I'd say sorry for being a burden in their lives. I'd say sorry for being a selfish person. I'd say sorry for being someone who was different.

Then, I'd tell them about the things I thought of, and the memories I treasure the most. I'd tell them about the fact that I actually have a blog, and have a journal locked up deep in my closet.

And lastly, I'd tell them to forget that I'd ever existed. They say a person never dies for as long as they are remembered. If I were to die, I want to die completely and not leave a trace. Not in several generations, no, but as soon as I'm dead. I don't want others to grieve for me. If at all possible, just set my body out somewhere in the middle of the ocean and let it sink. There's this old saying that goes, "When young children die, they become as they would have had they lived out their entire lives." That would be my own life, no better and no worse than any others'.

So, I've gone a few baby steps forward. I wonder how many more I'd make before I stop wanting to step back.

Carrots, Eggs, and Coffee Beans

2006-09-16T18:05:00.000+08:00

I went to this seminar on Singaporean Math and Science Teaching Styles a while ago at my old school. I learned a few things today. I learned that one of the keys to solving a problem, mathematical or otherwise, is attitude. Meaning, the perseverance of working at the problem, the joy of working on it, and the satisfaction at having solved it.

But what struck that point home was the short comparison story that the teacher-speaker gave - the Carrots, the Eggs, and the Coffee Beans. At first, I was just amused by the GIF animations on the powerpoint she used. Then, when she reached the point where she told us what the items meant, I was really listening. Let me narrate it as close as I can.

Take some carrots, a couple of eggs, and some coffee beans. Boil three pots of water over the fire. Then, when the water boils over, put the carrots into one pot, the eggs into the second, and ground coffee beans into the third. After fifteen minutes, remove the items from the pots.

The carrot that went in hard became soft.

The eggs that went in soft on the inside became hard.

The coffee powder disappeared.

Now, imagine that the boiling water is a problem in your life.

Will you be like the carrots, going in strong and coming out weak? Will you go in energetic and disappointed at the end? Will you go in with all you have and let yourself be drained completely?

Or, will you be like the eggs, who went in soft and came out hard? Will you go in warm-hearted and full of trust and come out shattered and cynical? Will you let a problem consume all of you?

Or, will you be like the coffee powder that disappeared? Will you go in and change the environment with what you have?

Remember that the coffee powder didn't really disappear. It went in, changed itself, then changed the world around it. Remember that coffee tastes better the hotter the water that you put it in. Will you be like the coffee powder, letting yourself become stronger, more flavorful, more aromatic, the more troubled you are?

Now, think about it. She had a point.

Yey........

2006-09-09T12:45:00.000+08:00

Finally, the week of Inhumanities has finished. After the last few days, I don't want to go back to normal yet on Monday, especially since last year's Humanities Week was actually fun and relaxing. Not nerve-wracking, sleep-draining, and voice-loss-inducing. Anyways, on to the currentlies...

Currently Reading: None
Just finished Smoke and Mirrors yesterday (I think) during the 2nd Jovito Salonga Interlevel Debate. I plan to borrow Inkheart from one of my former teachers, though.

Currently Listening to: Tokimeki Memorial Girl's Side OST
There's somewhere around 90 songs here, and I don't think I've heard all of them yet. The music is nice, especially with the use of synthesizers. My favorites would have to be Hazuki Kei's theme fundamental and Hibiya Wataru's Confession BGM.

Dahlia won the speech choir competition. Yey for us, especially since we only just finished it somewhere around an hour before the presentation proper. Plus, there were quite a few mistakes... the worst was probably the fact that the bag containing a number of props was actually set about 2 feet away from those who were gonna use them. Oh well.

Dahlia Sci Stream won 2nd place in the Fashion Show, with our models winning 2nd best male and 3rd best female models. We skipped watching the KKKwiz since the leaves sewn onto the clothes shrunk and we had to redo them, plus the skirt was just plain ugly. Thankfully the models were able to actually wear the clothes.

Thanks to the aforementioned prizes, my illness dragging on for 2 whole weeks and my practical loss of voice were offset. Unfortunately, no prize in the world can make me happy that a loud-mouthed, 4-foot-11-inch short person went up the stairs to get the prize money for the Art competition. Makes me want to throw aforementioned person out the window.

Anyways...

We had our Alternative Classroom Learning Experience (abbreviated into ACLE) last Thursday. I attended Soundtrack Production and a Creative Writing Workshop. I had a very nice nap during Soundtrack Production (even though Sir Tristan was kinda interesting...), since I had only had some hour or so of sleep during the "sleepover" to create the dresses. In the CW workshop, I had a fair bit of fun, especially since I was the usher for the speaker, Luis Katigbak. I wrote a really short story (111 words long) and learned the rules of writing. Thankfully, I already do a good number of them. In any case, I have to make a paper for both of them... God help me for SP.

I'll put up the story I wrote there as soon as I can. For now, I'm gonna throw away the building mountain of tissue paper containing my illness' progeny.

Time Goes By

2006-09-02T19:47:00.000+08:00

Yes, here's another post without currentlies. With so much to do, I haven't even finished Smoke and Mirrors.

Time goes by, and the dreams we shared fade away,
Do any of those memories we engraved so long ago stay?
Time goes by, and the dream I had disappeared,
I wonder, what was it that I had most feared?

Time goes by, and the brave crumble to dust,
Their feats disappear with the coming dusk.
Time goes by, and fears begin to grow,
Like the darkness of the night, so slow.

Time goes by, and the hopes of those who came before,
Light the way for those who search for something more.
Time goes by, the winds of the future pass by,
Bringing us to the place beyond the night.

Time goes by, and the brave return with the day.

That was the first poem I wrote in so long. It's not even really a true poem, so to speak. A true poem utilizes powerful imagery, but this poem marginalizes it. Well, it's at least a start towards coming back to writing.

Today we had our card-giving/"fun" family day. Now, I have no idea what happened in family day, as I wasn't there. I see no point in going alone, with or without illness. I don't want to bother my parents with asking them to come anyways.

Now, the card-giving. My specific, broken-down grades won't be here, but I will say that I ranked 5.5 in class. How I got there, I have no idea. I sleep in class and I am generally very very lazy.

For the next week, I probably won't even have time to sleep. Our class is very much behind in every requirement we need for the next week, Humanities Week, and the idiocy is, we were supposed to have been prepared for this by today. How I wish I could just wake up tomorrow with Humanities Week all done already! Then again, I should know better than to wish for something like that.

Now that I think about it, why is it that time seems so slow and yet, when we look back, it all seems to have passed too quickly? They say hindsight is 20/20, but I never heard anybody say that hindsight is looking back at things with the fast forward button on. I can no longer act like the person I was a day ago, because that'd be stupid. I can't act like the person I was five years ago, because that'd be just plain weird. And yet, these people who were me are still a part of me. I know that since I can still see them when I hit the rewind button. But I can't hit the play button while rewinding.

No matter how hard life slaps us in the face, we can only stand our ground and look at it with tears in our eyes. And I hate it. I know we all need sorrow and hardships, but do we all need to experience being alone? When we were conceived, we weren't alone, we were already with our parents. As we grow older, we can become more estranged from our parents but form a bond with others, be it friend or lover. But why are there times that we are estranged both from family and friends? Still, I suppose, I can still believe that one person in the world will still listen to me. I might not have met that single person yet, but I can assure myself he or she is somewhere out there, in this large yet small, round yet flat world. I might have even met that single person already! That someone who will accept me for being me, with all my flaws and pain. That someone who will be there for me, be it through joy or sorrow. That someone who will understand me, with all my idiocies, sarcasm, and childishness.

I want to try to be that someone for somebody. I want to be someone who can accept another person without prejudice or malice or envy. I want to be a person others can depend on. I want to touch a life and leave a fingerprint as deep as the Marianas. That time might not come today, but I want to be a person who will lead someone out of their darkness and into the light of a new day. I want to be a light that will lead those who search for something more.

Credits to crushedblackice, whose thoughts allowed me to think enough to write this post. May you be strong in times that others are weak, and may you practice that wisdom I know you have when dealing with those who don't understand you.

看不到

2006-08-26T17:22:00.000+08:00

Reading: Smoke and Mirrors by Neil Gaiman
See previous post for data.

Listening to: God Knows... by Hirano Aya
Insert song of Haruhi Suzumiya no Yuuutsu episode 12. Pop Rock song that sounds simply amazing.

I'm going to a sleepover with about a dozen people I've known all my life and yet haven't seen for a while--my cousins.

I feel like I'm off to my own execution.

I missed an afternoon of practice for our English presentation for this, since I doubt I can get back home and shower and do other stuff in one hour. Unless, of course, a very nice person volunteers to run over a hundred miles an hour for me.

I still haven't found my old inspiration. I haven't penned a real poem for nearly six months now, and my stories are languishing in puddles of neglect. I guess it must be because so much has happened that I really don't feel like I can continue on with writing anymore. I can't find out what I want my characters to do, what lives I want them to lead. Before, I could. I had a clear idea where they were going, what secrets they had, what feelings they felt. Now, I think the space they once filled in me is an utter void.

The irony is, I don't know who I am. And I never did.

I'm still good at many things, but not as good as before, I think. I still hide behind masks that blur who I am, and confuse me as to who I really am. Others still see me as they always did, but I think I'm slowly and surely changing. I don't know who I'll be after all has blown past, but I hope I can still be a me that was always me.

I never thought that being me was hard, and yet now that I look back on the me that was a child, I am amazed that I turned into who I am now. From a child who couldn't do anything, here I am now wanting to take up a job. I was asked to become a model about a year or two ago, and I hope that offer still stands.

In other news, does anybody here have a copy of Tokimeki Memorial: Girl's Side I can borrow? I think it's a PS2 game, but I want to at least see the cover! Or, if somebody is kind enough to lend me a PS2, that too so that I can actually play it. It seems like a great game...

The title, for those who can't read the characters, simply means "Can't see". It's fitting.

Rose and Release

2006-08-20T21:46:00.000+08:00

Listening to: Sakura Kiss by Chieko Kawabe

The Opening Theme of Ouran High School Host Club, a really nice comedy series. I love the rhythm and the lyrics are pretty good. But please, never ever watch the music video. I was terrified by screenshots alone.

Reading: A Separate Peace by John Knowles and Smoke and Mirrors by Neil Gaiman

A Separate Peace is set in the early years of WWII as the narrator, Gene Forrester, looks back. It's good, but the very first part is kinda boring. Me, who lived through Silas Marner and Heart of Darkness, fell asleep at page 42. But the parts after page 50 is actually very interesting. Smoke and Mirrors, on the other hand, is a collection of short stories. I haven't read much of it yet, but it's good so far.

Today, I managed to recall a good part of the imagery of a nice poem I wrote last school year for our last quarter's English project. It was titled 'Rose and Release', and it ended with a pretty disturbing scene. I'll put it up here once I find the actual one I wrote.

I went to Donggua, a popular street where vendors sell literally hundreds of flowers, today. I had to buy some flowers and leaves for our Artappre project--semi-formal outfits for a guy and a girl. It'll be showcased in a fashion show next month. I bought three dozen roses (I got pricked by them too.) and this big long stick of white flowers that give off a nice smell not unlike the dama noche. Also bought were eighteen branches of these leaves that looked like gingko leaves. I have no idea in heaven or hell what they're called. Then I butchered those eighteen branches and they're now currently being pressed in between layers of newspaper set under six or seven phone directories.

Things I learned today:

That you should never handle roses in bundles carelessly.
That the best way to mimic a leafcutter ant is to buy big bundles of leaves and chop them up into pressable sizes.
That gardening shears are possibly the worst tools for cutting off single leaves.
That leaves itch. A lot. And that I must demand for itch cream and two hundred pesos from my groupmates.

Apart from those things, I'm fine. I've been having a more-than-okay laugh trip with two animes--Ouran Koukou Hosuto Club (Ouran High School Host Club) and Suzumiya Haruhi no Yuutsu (The Melancholy of Haruhu Suzumiya). The second one is apparently very popular, with the soundtrack staying at top spot in Japan for fourteen days AND that it's listed as one of the reasons for learning the Japanese language. It's a miracle considering that the series only has 14 episodes. Scratch that, it's a miracle for any anime.

For now, I'll be taking a break. I need to figure out what to do for my Filipino paper doll's dresses.

Sleepovers and Other Things

2006-07-29T18:13:00.000+08:00

I almost sleptover at a classmate's house.

Now, it was not really for fun, although we did spend more than half of the time I was there in break mode.The people who went shopping for stuff were late mainly because of factors beyond our control--traffic and weather. So, we were only able to start at eight, and my dad was already there to pick me up. I asked him to stay for a bit and he thankfully agreed. I think I stayed until around 10:30, at which point someone was already very busy bossing other people around. We were at least able to do a part of the background in Van Gogh style, and another classmate informed me the next morning that the project was nearly finished.

A few days afterwards, we finally finished it. Okay, not really finished as in perfectly finished, but it was really pretty.

That was a couple of weeks ago.

Just yesterday, our periodical exams finished. I had a good time - I don't really study for exams, so I got to relax a lot during the last three days. I also learned of my score for Social Science - a pretty good 94 over 100.

There was a party for all us sophomores who survived the first quarter last night. There was dancing and a whole lot of other carp I won't go into here. (I rarely say evil words in writing, so when I say it, know that it really, really was very carppy.) I don't dance, and the 'carp' that happened last night involves me currently wanting to kill somebody.

And just now, I got told off by my mom for not greeting somebody (different from the somebody in the last paragraph) who came over last DECEMBER. As much as I don't remember him coming over (at least while I was conscious), I'm the one who's getting told off since my brother unfortunately doesn't respond to castigation quietly. Translation: He shouts back at the person telling him off. I blame that on his lack of sleep.

I bow to people, not invite them to sit down. That's not good. In our eyes, we're more expected to shout "PLEASE COME IN!" or "PLEASE SIT DOWN!" whenever a visitor comes around. No wonder so many Chinese go into the restaurant business. In any case, now I have to do a habit I never really picked up. And I want to throw something out the window.

Gaaaah.

2006-07-26T22:28:00.000+08:00

Right now, I will not write anything about myself. I am currently in a state of supreme idiocy.

I bit my sister on her arm, and now she has a black spot the size of mount Everest. Okay, so while I may try to defend myself on the point that my hand was gonna get crushed if I didn't, fact remains that I bit her. Which is, in the view of practically everybody in the world, wrong.

But I digress.

As of now, I've been in school for nearly two months. I've learned a few more things, and not just from the curriculum. Thus far, I've experienced being frustrated at a sport. Yes, I am traumatized at sports. Take it from nearly dying of chlorine poisoning last year and other... accidents. Simply put, I can barely hold my own. And now I have to choose between rally and ball control. The sport I want to try is archery. It doesn't look like it needs a lot of physical prowess, and I think I can handle being whacked under the arm and on the leg a few times.

After being bedridden last Saturday due to my monthly visitor, I still have a short fuse. Considering I missed out on making a project that could cost my Artappre grade, I think that I'm doing well enough.

Today 2-Dahlia had one of the very worst days thus far. We had a Values Education Long Test first thing this morning. Thankfully, it wasn't that hard. We also had a Computer Science Long Test. Then Social Studies, where we made a major essay in roughly fourty minutes. After that, major discussion about the literally bigger-than-most-people Artappre project.

Apart from that, I had one of my first "strange" experiences in... over a week. I was wandering around the school when I felt a cold draft. Not strange?

Consider that I have a rather highly developed sixth sense. Strange enough for you yet?

Next, consider that said area has already been nearly confirmed to hold something by more than a few sensitive people.

If that's not enough, I don't know what will be. If you ask for visual proof, I don't have a camera to take a picture of the area with. Neither do I have a third eye anymore.

In any case, I still have to go and research a couple of things. Gaaaah.

Wonder if Silicon Smells...

2006-07-12T13:54:00.000+08:00

Currently Listening to: Same as before. Have had very precious little time.

Currently Reading: Nothing. As in nothing.

Today, by the grace of the unknown force called DepEd, all classes were dismissed at 11:40. Yey for all of us.

The good parts about today: Half-day, the lab experiment, and the film showing in Bio.

The bad parts about today: I just missed playing badminton, and we get our Physics LT pushed back at least another day.

The most fun thing? The Chem lab experiment. Because of our... forgetfulness... that we had rags, my group managed to get one of us (henceforth known as K.R.) to wipe stuff clean with his handky. No, we did NOT make him wipe off hydrochloric acid, though I do think that will be fun. K.R.'s poor little handky was used to wipe clean multiple glasswares, which were wet with water. It was very, very amusing to see him go drama-ish over a little handky.

The baking soda-vinegar solution we 'cooked' over the Bunsen burner came out smelling like barbeque, or at least some kind of food. I wonder how it tastes like. We weren't allowed to eat the baking soda. It was kinda fun cooking the stuff; I just found out today that vinegar, while not explosive, can scare some people out of their minds if the test tube you're heating it in is in their faces. Probably because vinegar has a low boiling point.

In another class, Computer Science, we were watching "Pirates of Silicon Valley", a pretty cool documentary-movie that talks about the beginnings of Apple and Microsoft. Needless to say, some girls were swooning over the actor who played Steve Jobs. We've thus far gotten to about 80 percent of the film, and it's been fun.

Makes me wonder, does Silicon smell if you burn it? >:)

Arc

2006-07-02T08:56:00.000+08:00

Currently Listening to: Kyoudai by Ooshima Michiru
A BGM from the anime Fullmetal Alchemist. This is the instrumental version. It's just plain beautiful. And I've grown to love the sound of a violin because of this.

Currently Reading: To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
This is actually the second time I'm reading this book. It's not as dense as our previous reading assignments, and I think Scout here is very cute. Especially in her big ham costume.

I've been wanting to post for a while now, but I could never find the time to. This post will basically deal with anything and everything that's been happening for the last few weeks.

First off, I've finally found out what second year is so infamous for - the sheer number of projects. As I'm the one assigned to keep track of long test dates and project submission days for our class, there was a running record of 3 major requirements in one week. And it turned to 4 just this afternoon. Unfortunately, that last addition is to create a 7 1/2 by 3 1/2 foot painting, based on Van Gogh's Sunflowers. Although 15 people are supposed to work on it, it's still pretty scary.

For our classes, I'm currently quite pleased. I've managed to pass an algebra test, though I failed most of the quizzes. I've grown to dislike the very paltry excuse for a decent schedule we've been given, but I can accept that it DOES help to have a break after PE.

For a secondary reading trip, Queen of Glass by S.J. Maas on Fictionpress.com has been on my mind these past few days. I'm nearly done with it, and waiting for the next chapter to come. This particular story's given me some ideas on how to make my own work better, especially since I tend to write at top speed. Without sacrificing quality, of course.

As for my classmates, I've grown to like most of them. I can't say for sure if they'll still stick with me until the end of the year at least, but for now, I can enjoy what I've got. There's this one guy I can't put, though. He doesn't really talk to me, even though we have had a couple of group projects together. I'm not sure if the guy hates me. Ah well, I'll deal with it when I have to.

For those who're wondering why this post is "arc" (I've given all my posts titles that are in context with what's in them, for the most part), it's because my life is finally going forward. As to if I have to return to being the me that I just left behind, only time will tell.

Hellos and New Hardships

2006-06-23T21:50:00.000+08:00

No currentlies for now, sorry. I've been a teensy bit too busy to do much. Although if you can count reading our Home Reading Assignment for English2, To Kill a Mockingbird, as a currently, I think I can try to make a little summary of it. For those who are too lazy to actually read it, contact me for a summary.

It's been very long since I last posted. No, it's not because I'm tired of blogging. It's simply because our router got busted and had to be sent to the shop to be fixed. Thus, no net connection on my laptop for a while. Since I often write my blog posts on my laptop now (what with getting Camino), this was pretty bad. In any case, onto the meat of this entry: My first (and second) weeks as a Second Year.

I'll admit that I didn't really think I'd get along very well with my classmates this year. As one of my teachers last year said, it's either an unstoppable force, or a huge ugly mass of clashing egos. We have the most popular and the smartest students of the batch. We have the social animals, as well as those who manage to stay silent through their achievements. But, so far, we've been doing well together. As of today, I've gotten to know the people of the most well-known barkada last year. Most of them, at least. There's this one guy that doesn't seem to want to talk to me. Ah well, I'll deal with a problem once I know there's a problem. Hopefully there isn't.

Our teachers this year seem pretty good. For special note for interesting-ness, we have the SocSci2 teacher and the Math2 (Geometry) teacher. For special note for being able to put me to sleep no matter how much coffee I ingest, are the Math3 (Algebra) and the Art teachers. These are just my observations after two weeks. Do note that I meet with them only thrice a week, so no final comments yet. Yet.

Now, we have the homework. This is as much a reference for me as it is for the enjoyment of others who read this blog. As they say, misery loves company.

Health2: Project: introduce yourself creatively. Due week before periodicals in August.

Music2: Get a group of 6 and practice to perform a number.

Geom: Research on the Brief History of Geometry. Also, collecting school supplies for something... no idea what yet.

SocSci2: News clipping collection, and graded recitation on Mesopotamia next meeting.

PE: Practice the Ball Control for the Practicals. (Whoever thought of this test, I want to kill him/her.)

ValEd: Do a reaction paper on the article the Dignity of Man by Swami Omkarananda (available off the net). Do a creative output on the Nature of Man, due fourth week of July.

Art: Interview people on Ida. I still have to dig up 1 more person for this....

English2: Make the storybook thingy.

Homeroom: Finish off the ATM account papers.

That's all I remember off the top of my head... and now for a few more thoughts before I wrap this post up.

My first week was just like a big reunion of some sort. My old class still practically owns one table in the front lobby, and we often still sit there before first period. I found out the rest of my new class' roster, and it turns out I already know most of them. I met up with old teachers. I.... weightlifted. Last year, for two days. This year, I've been weightlifting heavy books for the past two weeks. And they say that lockers are gonna be given out first week of July. I'll probably have muscles by then.

New quote from a blogskin I was trying to make. It sounds real nice, and I think I'm gonna use it pretty often. "Dream of a time to come, and see what mysteries others can hide from your eyes."

I pray I'll have a good time during my suffer-more year.

Insomniac Mode...

2006-05-21T01:21:00.000+08:00

Listening to: Extraordinary Love by MYMP
One of the few OPM (Original Pinoy Music) I love. Nice, slow, and good for my current sleep-wanting mode. I like the lyrics too. Want a sample? "...Cuz this is not your ordinary, no ordinary love. I was not prepared enough - to fall so deep in love... You were the first to touch my heart, and everything's right again..."

Reading: Fanfiction on Fanfiction.net. Mostly in Suikoden category. I'll try to find and review a really, really good one sometime.

My insomnia works in weird ways. I often get it before I have my monthly period. However, my insomnia has suddenly hit me today, about a week after my blood stopped coming out of annoying places. And I have to take ID pictures for school tomorrow. With luck, it won't keep me up until 4 AM this time.

When I'm in insomniac mode, stories (short ones) or vignettes pop out of my mind. Rarely, I get side-stories to my novels. So, to let my juices flow without being an idiot belting out songs at the top of my voice here, I'll put down one of the stories floating in my head right now. While I won't quality-control it as much as one of my novels, rest assured I'll try to keep some semblance of sanity here. So, without further ado, let's begin the strange torture~.

Long rivulets of powder blue hair flowed down with the water. Hair that wasn't hers to begin with. She reached up and yanked it off - the annoying plastic fake hair. She couldn't do anything about it earlier; the set managers demanded only the absolute in obedience. The quietude of her shower was the only place she could hide. The paparazzi had kept a close watch on her abode since her sudden rise to stardom.

She had the looks, they said. She had the background - her mom was an actress once, and her dad was a model. So she took the plunge. She succeeded in rising to fame, but it had cost her a piece of herself too. She didn't know who she was - the innocent protagonist she played in a TV series, the dark villain in a movie, or the extra from an ad. This was how she lived now, a pretty face to be used and thrown away. Some fad to pass without a second glance. But she had loved this life. She had loved the glances thrown her way as she paraded down the catwalk in the latest fashion. She had loved the chance to become so many people at the same time.

That was long enough ago for her to almost forget. Now the crowds of people were repetitive, at best. The people she became too much a part of her to let go of. When her eyes shut, she saw the people she helped, the people she hurt. She could feel what she was supposed to feel then - repressed suffering, anger, graceful charity. But it didn't help her any now. Her mind was floating away, silently. Where nothing could reach her.

... Okay, that was just plain dark. But at least my head is shutting down now; I think my insomnia's past. So, for now, good night.

Dreams on Wings

2006-05-18T22:28:00.000+08:00

Listening to: Piano version of Remember Me This Way, played by Dionne Anderson and originally sung by... not sure who.
I love piano pieces, and Remember Me This Way is a beautiful song to begin with. I'll be covering the entire CD of this song in the following posts. This song is perfect for my mood right now because it's been raining until a few days ago. (For those who don't know, my mood is directly affected by the weather; the rainier it gets, the more thoughtful I become.)

Reading: Missing Manuals: Mac OS X 10.2 Jaguar
Ok, so I'm not using Jaguar. Tiger (10.4) is better in some ways, but this book is good since I'm new to Mac. Helpful and written in a casual tone, this book introduced me to working with the Mac in ways I wouldn't have thought possible. Some computer junkies call the Mac the "Superior System", and thus far I've only found evidence to support that.

What are dreams, anyways? People often ask me what my dreams are, and I don't know even if I've ever dreamed in my life. Yes, I've wanted lots of things, but those are just that: Wants. Dreams are your desires, your feelings, your passions, right? I'm not sure myself. I'm not deeply madly in love, though I do love. I'm not a person whose feelings are overwhelminng; I can often keep myself in check no matter what. I like doing many things, but there aren't many things I do each and every day. I know I once told someone, "It's when you stop dreaming that you stop growing." Now that I look back, how could I have said that when I don't know how to dream myself? In other words, I'm an idiot.

Dream is used in another context, one that I can do, and I know how to do. I dream when I sleep, and I dream even when I'm awake. I see myself away from the everyday, mundane world. I see myself happy with friends. I see myself being something I am not. It's something I do by nature, almost. I dream up events and occurances to use in my stories, or ideas to feed my "plot bunny" as some writers call it. I dream up things to draw in my sketchpad, though I rarely put them on paper. Don't get me wrong, I like drawing. It's just that it isn't something that I do everyday.

I want to have friends who'll stay by me. In Tagalog, a barkada. The English term, I think, is clique. Right now, this is the one thing I desire. I have many acquaintances, and a few friends. Most of my friends however, are already in college or over. So I don't meet with them often, and we talk only in chat (Yahoo! Messenger, online games, etc.). The people I once thought accepted me broke up after a bit, and drifted off into other cliques. That was one reason our class last year didn't get along too well; we were halved, divided. I didn't want to have to love one group and hate the other (there's also a third group, but they're all DoTA addicts, I'm not), so I stayed in the grey. Because of this, I spent most of my time alone. If not, I spent it with a few people who decided they still accepted me, or at least didn't shove me off a windowsill to get out of their faces.

To tell the truth, I'm not sure why people tend to avoid me. I know how some others see me: a snotty know-it-all brat who doesn't do anything but interject in otherwise good conversations. So, I hold my silence when with others. They then said I was too quiet, they didn't know me (In truth, I'm pretty talkative, you just have to talk to me first - or I will, when it's in chat). I can't relate to others of my age either. I don't know exactly why, but I think differently. At least that's what my mom says. I'm almost fifteen, and I don't care about my looks much, I'm not boy-crazy, and I don't like going shopping. I guess it's because I never had many girls my age around me. The ones closest my age are my second cousins, and I don't see them all that often. Then again, the girls at my grade school have boyfriends as early as grade 4 (11 years old). I suppose I'm just different, in quite a few ways.

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~

For those who've been waiting to see my story, I'm holding a little poll. You see, I have three stories here: 2 original novels and 1 fanfiction of CardCaptor Sakura. Between the novels, one's serious, with a rare funny moment, and the other's a comedic story. I'll be asking the few people who know I write, and I'll be counting whenever somebody puts up a comment with a vote. If there aren't any, I won't put up any of them. Sorry, but I at least want to know that somebody's interested in them.

Postscript:Yes, I know this post is angsty, and I think I repeated some of the stuff from my old posts. That's my life for the summer - boring and repetitive.

Ages Forgotten

2006-05-16T21:27:00.000+08:00

Listening to: Nothing at the moment; but I've been hearing a lot of the songs previously featured.

Reading: None, for the first time in a long long while. I've been watching a fair bit of TV (actually a DVD).

Watching: Emperor of the Sea
A really really long series, trust me. It took us 3 hours to get through one DVD disc, and this series has about 20. It follows the tale of Goong-Bok of Chunghae, starting from his childhood as a slave at the shipyards. It's actually a bit more complicated than the original legend it was based on, because of the addition of romance to the story. I can't really review this all that well , since I haven't finished it yet.

I'm old.

Very very old.

At least, compared to my batchmates.

I'm turning fifteen in a little more than three weeks. Apart from that, I'm figuring my birthday falls very very close to the opening of class.

I've been using "very very" too much. I should erase that phrase from my dictionary.

In other news, I have enrollment soon, and people are all asking me what section I want to be in. I think, "Why should I care?" I mean, it's not like the section itself is the main thing here. It's more on how well you get along with the people who're thrown into the same class you are. So, right now, I'm hoping that I can get into a class with at least one person I get along with. There aren't that many, and most of them aren't even in our school.

That makes me wonder, what kind of person am I when it comes to friendships? I know for sure I'm not a social animal. In fact, I'm more of a loner. I don't really know if I'm popular, and many people who like me when they first meet me get put off after a while. The main way I get to keep people around me is if I act. I've worn a mask so many times, I've no idea who's the real me, or even if there ever was a "me". I feel like an outcast with the fashion people (not a shopper, sorry), and I can't go with the studious types either (I'm a lazy person). The in-betweens treat me like I'm some foreign object.

In fact, I'm often forgotten. I'm pretty much remembered when there's something to be done. Or when I'm already pretty close to somebody, which doesn't happen often. I guess I could honestly say that being forgotten is worse than being hated. Because, when you're hated, you know you at least mean something to others, as a rival or maybe as a foe. Being forgotten means that you're the first one off the ship after the parting of ways, maybe even before that time. Being hated is suffering - the kicking, screaming kind of suffering. Being forgotten is silent suffering; you can't even remind others when they've forgotten you, right?

Alone in the world
Alone, in the depths of memory.
Alone in the world
Alone, forgotten in the clouded sea.
- taken from one of my poems.

Lonely Meanderings

2006-05-07T11:13:00.000+08:00

Listening to: Passion by Utada Hikaru
Kingdom Hearts 2 Theme Song. Starts off really slow, but quickly becomes a beautiful, almost gregorian chant-ish song. Passion is, by the way, the Japanese Theme. The English Theme is called Sanctuary.
Reading: Luna by Julie Anne Peters
A novel about a transsexual told from the point of view of his sister. Very interesting, especially in its portrayal of the hidden lives of transsexuals who aren't accepted. I would recommend this to people who are open-minded; I don't think rigid people would appreciate these things.

I hate myself.

I can't even teach my little sister how to behave properly, for god's sake. For all she cares, she sees me as somebody who's just scared of those older than me.

And for all I know, other people could be hating me right now too.

Even life is hating me. Not only can I not play MMORPGs a lot because of my brother, even my Neopets account is whacked.

So I am not a happy camper. For the people who're waiting for my story, wait a little longer. With this bad mood, anything I write'll probably kill itself.

In other news, my laptop is currently being used as an entertainment center by my little sister. YouTube has, apparently, corroded her brain. I dislike YouTube because it's streaming, which eats up the bandwidth that could otherwise be used for other things. Like BitTorrent. Okay, I'm biased. But who isn't?

Right now, the person mentioned in the previous blog entry is in China for work reasons. I miss him already. For the malicious minded, he is not my boyfriend. He's an older person I happen to trust a lot. He's helped me through a lot, you see, so I owe him a lot too. I even owe his girlfriend a lot. Makes me wonder when I'll be able to pay them both back... but that won't be for a few years more, I think. ::cry::

... That's it for now. I'm only writing this entry to alleviate boredom... and to break my long silence and let people know that I'm still alive. And my brother's waking up anyway; so I have to go.

Thoughts on the Wind

2006-04-19T01:13:00.000+08:00

I'm typing on my laptop right now, so this post shall be without color and formatting for a while until I can get my hands on the desktop.

Listening to: The Light Before We Land
I don't know the artist for this one... sorry. It's the opening song for the Gunslinger Girl anime series. Strangely haunting and mysterious, I love this song to bits. It doesn't hurt that it's almost a ballad.
Reading: The Hidden Life of Dogs by Elizabeth Marshall Thomas
Touching to the point it's almost scary, this book follows the lives of Thomas' dogs as she observes them. With each of them having a personality and their own fate, the book stays in your mind.

Less than a week ago, I lifted my self-imposed ban on online gaming. During this time, I was again able to talk with good friends and wonderful mentors. Foremost among these conversations, the talk I had with one I knew for the longest stays in my mind. At first, we talked about my strange personality quirk that left me practically unable to keep from feeling guilty when somebody else treated me to something. And it's almost amazing that he was able to convince me that I shouldn't - at least in the cases involving him. With those around my age, I'm not quite convinced yet.

Next, we were able to talk about relationships, especially since another friend of ours was getting married. He said that the most important thing, is not the love between, but the relationship between the guy and the girl. Sure, love is important too, but being able to work together to raise a family is more important. The best preparation for a relationship, would be to prepare the self in spirit. In other words, being ready to accept the other not as a perfect being. One who loves must first be able to accept the flaws and see the good in the other.

He's usually quiet when he plays. During this time, he was talking almost like he was when we met up; in other words, freely and a lot. He said that he did this because it would be important for me to know these things. And there, I agree with him.

*Beginning of part added later*
That night I wrote this post, I almost poked my brother's eye out. That wasn't very good.

My brother and I... we talk a lot. A whole lot. Especially during his nightly RF sessions. We were born six years apart, so we have something that is said to cancel out each other's bad traits. And yes, we are pretty close. Not close enough that I'd know every last thing about him, but closer than me and my sister, for example.
*End of part added later*

Template Change

2006-04-08T09:11:00.000+08:00

Listening to: Anata Ga Ita Mori by Jyukai
Ending song of Fate/Stay Night. The melody and the lyrics are quite soothing. In the TV-sized version, the song ends at the part where they have a violin instrumental. It leaves a very nice imprint; maybe better than the full version's.

Reading: None as of yet

To the people who visited my blog before I fixed the little bugs in it: I'm quite sorry. I got the template off blogskins.com, but for some reason, the font was far too small for my preferred Verdana 78%. And I got shooed away from the computer before I could fix it. I don't like fixing blogger.com's posts and templates on my laptop, mainly because the compose feature there isn't as good as it is on the desktop. So I had to wait until today before I could go and fix up the template problems. Once again, I'm sorry.

I'm planning on fixing it up again; I want a comments system so that I don't have to rely on the tagboard. Also, I plan to make my own skin sometime. If there's anybody who knows how to do this and can teach me, please do.

In a State of Mercury

2006-04-06T10:22:00.000+08:00

Listening to: Touch Yourself by Megumi Hayashibara
Ending of a Slayers game. Not quite sure which. The beat is wonderful, and the song itself is sung beautifully, as is expected of Hayashibara. As a Seiyuu (a voice actor) and a singer, she has developed her voice. This song is good for those feeling unsure of themselves.
Reading: Newspaper articles from yesterday, to be discussed below.

Just a warning: this post will touch upon some issues in a newspaper. Note that some of the statements are my own opinions, and that I do not intend to offend anyone. If anybody sees something offensive that slipped by me, please tell me so that I can rephrase or delete that part.

The article I've been stuck reading again and again is in the Philippine Star's front page: 'Poisoning' dampens PSHS graduation by Cecille Suerte Felipe. That's my school, so I think I have enough in me to care about this. The article touches upon the dark event that happened more than a month ago. One of the fourth year students (I won't tell who) drank water from a jug that had been unattended for a while. Right after drinking from it, they say that she felt a burning sensation in her throat. She then began vomiting. She was rushed to the hospital, where she was confined. She underwent multiple dialysis sessions from February fourteen until March 23. What was sad was that, when it happened, her prom was only days away. Laboratory tests indicated that the substance used in the poisoning was mercury nitrate; witnesses said that a classmate had done the deed. Before this incident, other students also became sick after drinking water said to have been laced with the same chemical by the same person.

Mercury nitrate is a colorless/white soluble compound of mercury. It's highly toxic; burns come from contact with skin and it's known to be fatal when ingested, inhaled, or exposed to skin in large amounts. It was once used to treat furs and is today occasionally used to determine chlorides in blood.

Mercury, also known as quicksilver, is a dense element most commonly obtained from cinnabar. It is used in thermometers, barometers, etc., although it's mostly been phased out in medical and scientific environments due to health risks. Historically, it's used in multiple applications ranging from medicine (as in they used it in ointments and such) to dental amalgams to silvering mirrors to preserving wood. When exposed to it for prolonged periods, humans develop symptoms such as dementia.

The above story has a good ending, sort of. The girl was released in time to attend her graduation ceremony. The suspect might be jailed on the case of attempted homicide, and was barred from graduating. And the suspect was even one of the brightest in the batch. The suspect was said to want to follow in the footsteps of an elder brother (also an alumnus of the school) who got accepted into a university in the States. I know we're a highly competitive school. But, if this is all to eliminate competition, then it's such a sad thing. I'd feel a bit better if it were an act of teenage angst or if it were a terrible prank gone worse.

What's nice about this story? The fact that it doesn't sound like a television novel gone bad, even though all the elements are somewhat there. (For those who aren't quite aware of local tradition, a few television novels have a 'tragic' story where the lead female has a 'fatal' accident and is instead semi-permanently deformed. Often, this is done by her rival-in-love. In this case, it's a rival-in-honors, academic honors.) Just kidding. It's nice that she (the victim) is now well and safe. I just hope that nothing like this happens again.

Another nice story here is a strange one: Lapid bill seeks ban on staple wires in food packages by Christina Mendez. It even has a caricature. I mean, it's practically common sense that there shouldn't be any sharp, potentially harmful stuff there, right? Apparently, many 'staple' foods literally contain staples. The violators, according to the bill, will be subjected to a fine of between P5,000 and P50,000 or imprisonment.

Staple wires, I'm surprised to find, are used by some street vendors (and even some businessmen!) to cut costs. Is it more important that they save a few centavos than to prevent a case of a puncture wound or maybe tetanus? A puncture wound, okay, isn't that serious. Tetanus, on the other hand, can be dangerous.

Now that I'm done talking about newspaper articles, I can talk about something else. It was report card getting yesterday. I didn't do that bad, and I'm hanging onto my Director's List status by two fingers. For those who'd like to know more, you can contact me. I'm not that willing to give out my scores to just anybody (call it paranoid if you want). To tell the truth, I don't much like being on the DL. So much so that I even tried to bring my scores down in the third quarter. So, right now, I'm floating on a toxic bed of mercury. If I do well, I risk being hated or, at least, seen as a weird one. If I don't do well, I disappoint my family.

To quote somebody (I forgot who said this already...), "You're doomed if you do, you're doomed if you don't. So why not just do it and get something done in the process of being doomed?"

Happy Feelings and Contractings

2006-04-04T14:21:00.000+08:00

Listening to: The Starry Sky by HAL
Opening theme of Angelic Layer. There's a Dance Remix, but I prefer this one for singing along with. Beautiful song.
Reading: Artemis Fowl : The Eternity Code by Eoin Colfer
Book Three of the Artemis Fowl Series. Pacing is fast, but fans of Artemis Fowl should be used to this. Story begins with the C Cube, a supercomputer based on Fairy Technology, and the business deal Artemis has set up for it. Recommended reading.

I've been really really happy.

First off, I got myself a pretty laptop. An Apple Macintosh iBook G4. It'll cost me a hefty sum from my bank account, but I think it'll be well worth it. For one, it's about as powerful in terms of power as our desktop. For another, it has WiFi. Since we have a wireless router here, I can use it anywhere within a hundred meters. It also means that I can use the internet in school.

Secondly, I'm getting the hang of my swimming classes. I'm still half-drowning once in a while, but I'm way better than the time when I was gulping down five liters of chlorine water during freestyle. I'm currently learning to do the Breast Stroke.

For a third, my literary efforts are paying off well. I've begun a piece of fanfiction (a first for me) alongside my novels. I've found the first few chapters of my old work, Rain Shower, on Fictionpress.com (where I forgot I had uploaded them). They're pretty bad, and I plan to revise them. From the looks of the chapters, I was very heavily addicted to Suikoden at that time. =.= Which is not a very good thing to be when you're an author. Seriously.

Now, something that a friend of mine was pondering about: Exclusive contract deals for a building. I've explained it a bit at the comments area of her blog (found in the links area on the right), but I've looked through some informative articles and asked a couple of people for more information. An interesting document pertaining to her specific situation can be found at: here. It is, however, quite dense. Basically, it talks about why exclusive contracts for multi-unit buildings, such as apartments and condominiums, should not be common.

Often, companies engage in exclusive contracts where one or both ends cannot just go and use another service provider. In my friend's case, her building's contract had been won by Globe. So instead of her transferring her PLDT account to her new unit, she has to terminate that subscription and use Globe. The benefit to Globe is that they get so many new subscribers. For the building owners, they get the money paid as Globe's bid, and they (most probably; this is the case with most contracts) can get the building wired for free. From what I know, there is no discount for the building owners/contractors; they pay the same amount for the service as everybody else.

Most of the time, the contract terminates after a period of 3 to 5 years. There are very few 'lifetime' contracts. After this period, the unit owners can then change subscriptions without problems.

Now that I'm happy, I can go and play Nanosaur 2 on my laptop.

Summer Heat and School Life

2006-03-29T22:02:00.000+08:00

Currently Too Bored To Read Anything Or Listen To Much of My Music...Although I just finished reading the Yakitate!! Japan manga.

It's been a few days since vacation started...

And right now, although I've got swimming classes, I'm bored as hell. Probably has something to do with the fact that somebody misplaced my dear dear PS memory card. Thereby losing about three to six years' accumulated worth of hard work. Oh well.

On a lighter note, it seems that people are actually looking at my blog. Maybe it has something to do with me telling somebody about my blog address. To the people who looked here: Sorry if the first posts seem really angsty. I get into the mood to write when I'm in a bad mood. Not quite sure why. I would advise most people to ignore those posts if they are put off by teenage angst. As a bonus, I've decided to put up one of the stories I'm working on in this blog. I'll figure out ways to differentiate them later, but any and all intellectual work appearing in this blog are copyright by me!

Changing the topic, it looks like a number of people are leaving my school this year. Removals failure and over-the-limit failing units being the culprits. Haven't heard of any of us being kicked by Disciplinary cases; I'll have to ask the people on April fifth. I hope the people who are coming in as replacement scholars aren't quite so... rambunctious as the ones they're replacing.

In any case, it's late, and I'm swimming at 7 tomorrow, so I'll just post other stuff next time.

Random Rants

2006-03-15T10:23:00.000+08:00

<-------Beginning Rant on Ruby's laziness and paper------->For some reason, there were hundreds of problems, none of which I was aware of. And I'm the Editor-in-chief. According to the extern half of the class, the layout artists (who were dormers) weren't accepting any articles at all. And according to the intern half of the class, the externs were not submitting anything, and that they were told not to accept any poems. Then, they were fixing the layouts on MICROSOFT EXCEL. Apart from that, many of the articles submitted to the editors were lost.

Then, after a nice, long discussion with our English teacher, the work was relayed to another person. According to the layout artists, they would put all the articles on a USB, so that she could take the articles home (she was an extern). The next problem came... not all the articles were with her. The articles lost in between the first and the second layout artists, I can only guess. She also said that the first layout artists didn't put everything into the USB; they kept sending her other stuff over the weekend. Apart from that, she was only able to fill up 6 pages out of the required 8. When she did finish it, it was Sunday, and one of the former layout artists (who said she knew someone who could print it) didn't want to print it anymore due to the lateness.

As such, on Monday, some of us went out to find some way to print it. They were gone for over three hours, most of it because of waiting to finish the printing. Then, when they come back, some person just had to put it onto a table while it was windy. Because of some weird bad luck of ours, the wind blew a little paper tray of siomai sauce... onto our paper. We were forced to submit it with the grime; but at least we were able to submit it, although late.
<-------Ending Rant on Ruby's laziness and paper------->

Now that all of that's done... I can get onto other stuff.

Listening to: Rang Shi Jian Kai Kou by Zhang Zhi Chen
Nice, not-so-slow and good for relaxing. Talks about letting time flow back, maybe to fix a mistake, maybe to relive a wonderful memory, who knows. I know I don't.

Reading: Same as before.

Periodical tests are done. Actually, they already were last week. I think I did pretty well on most of them.

Hard to imagine that ten months already passed. I'm still pretty much the same as I was this time last year, with a few changes. Originally, I had wanted to transfer to this school because I thought that here I could finally make some friends. Big dream that turned out to be. I'm still alone, mostly ignored, and pretty much invisible. Some of the teachers have told me to hang on, maybe I just haven't adjusted to the climate in the school yet. When I think back on my first few weeks though, I wonder, can somebody suddenly become un-aclimated? In those first few weeks, I was still generally noticed. Or maybe that was just me, trying to find some way to fit in, that I imagined myself actually having somebody to hang around with?

There was once a time when I went around for an entire morning pretty suicidal. I don't know why, stress maybe? (Then again, I rarely stress.) For sure, if I hadn't been at school, I would've tried to really find some way to kill myself. At school, I can't just go and hang myself from the ceiling, can I? It has nothing to do with anybody talking me out of it. Most people thought I was kidding when I tried to pierce my wrist.

Then another time, we all went to the mall after practice. Kay-kay looked at something, and I stayed with her. Everybody else vanished. After a while, (during which we were looking for them) Kay-kay's dad or somebody came to fetch her. And so, I was left alone. I tried calling the others on their phones, but none were able to answer. I think I wandered around the first and second floors of the mall for something like two hours before my mom came around to take me home.

I'll now try to remember a happy moment...

I suppose the happiest times for me, were the times when we went out on field trips. We were forced to stay together, but I think the times we spent on the buses to and from the places, were some of the happiest moments I've spent with my class. Sure, we had a christmas party, but the class party was no fun, and the batch party was a dance party... and I'm no dancer. Not even close.

Rang shi jian kai kou... wo chr neng xiang, neng xi wang, wo men tou neng huay chui na xie kao xing de shi jian...

Memories Not Erased

2006-03-11T10:30:00.000+08:00

Listening to:Comet Cloud by RYTHEM
Opening Theme of Yakitate!Japan. Light, airy and pretty cute. Perfect for afternoons off from school.
Reading: Noli Me Tangere 2 by Roger Oliveros
A 'sequel' of sorts to the first Noli Me Tangere by Jose Rizal, Oliveros expertly portrays the pain and hardship of the modern Philippines.

First of all, I'd like to 'introduce' myself. Known as Vasanti Asherah online, I'm a fourteen-year-old student in a government-run school in Manila, Philippines. I don't much like protecting the government though; I say things as I see them. In other words, I'm not a government supporter, but I won't go around bashing the government unnecessarily. I've seen and gone through some stuff other kids my age might never get to do, so I'm not that good at connecting with others my own age. It's painful, but that's a fact of life I've come to accept over the past eight or nine years.

Now, I'll explain my choice of words for both the blog address and the title. 'Sha-lyyense' is, apparently, some sort of dirty thing in some language I have no idea about, but it has a nice meaning when I use Chinese. Sha-lyyense is, loosely translated, 'the color in the sand'. Since sand was used for telling time, and is today used as a symbol of change, I decided it was decent enough for use. 'Leira Soul' on the other hand, is my own creation. In a story I was once writing (it's lost now, due to a harddrive crash), a Leira is a holder of ancient wisdom, the kind I want to have.

Alright, now that all that's done, I'd like to say what not to expect in this blog:

Fashion comments (I'm not fond of shopping; probably never will be)

Religious things (Not religious enough to go preaching; not atheist enough to throw everything religious down the proverbial sink drain into the proverbial sewer)

Stories, poetry or whatever (Those will stay safely on my harddisk/notebooks, except for those I deem good enough for public viewing, but those are all first passed onto a friend)
I think that's all for now, anything else I remember that I have sworn not to write about, I'll add later.

That's all I have to say in this post. Maybe tomorrow I'll get around to writing about our periodical exams...