THE MOTHERFUCKERS ARE GREAT!

      

        These past few days were not so great. I just felt like I’m just emotionally battered.  (In an emo way) Although there were some good things that happened, like transferring to a new home, this week I felt like  degraded, insulted, rejected, mocked, criticized, laughed and most of all, belittled. I have encountered these things before but I just realized the word “enough” existed after at all. Before, I used to ignore spiny rocks thrown at me, now, I still ignore them but trying to jerk a little bit to avoid being hit. No matter how hard I avoided, I still get hit!   The rocks thrown at me were big. They were painful and intense that ‘calloused’ my skin and my face and made me ignore them. Because of this callous, every hit becomes bearable.

          Now, I realize that as time goes by, these rocks keep on hitting me and instead of making more callous, they seem to scratch them and make then thinner.  Day by day, week by week, they generate a tiny small sensation. This sensation grows into pain and makes me realized that the spines on the rocks are getting in to my nerves- my nerves!

          Because the pain gets greater and greater, I manage to avoid them and develop a skill and talent to avoid them all. But as I get better in getting rid of these hits, the rock thrown at me are getting bigger and bigger, they get more and more, the spine get longer and longer and  start to annoy me. I still manage to stay calm despite of these shits thrown at me.  So what I do, I make a cloth that helps me bare the pain. I cover my body with that cloth so I won’t have to jerk and look stupid. In other words, I keep silent while they do it, pretending it’s funny. It seems to pleasure them. I feel that it gives them a feeling of dominance, a feeling of superiority- a king and queen and I’m their servant. They throw their insulting words at my wearing callous, which now makes me sick and tired. Unfortunately, the cloth doesn’t work anymore. THE MOTHERFUCKERS ARE GREAT!  Hahaha.

          I want to fight back but there no sense if doing it. I know for a fact that I’m way… way… way... better than them! They maybe better with “a title” that they’re aiming for but I am always better than them in most aspects of life.  So why the fuck am I ranting and raving here? It’s because it feels sick. You know, it’s the feeling of being called a retard. I was told that I’m a retard in with no hesitation, eye-to-eye: “YOU ARE A RETARD!”

          Despite all these things that they do to me, I love them. Yes, I do. I feel like they’re just giving me advices indirectly. Like, telling me to change. Like, “hey, grow up”, “hey, be smart”, “hey, be responsible”, “hey, stay hygienic cause you’re dirty”. They’re giving me unsolicited advices which I hate since the day I was born. Unsolicited advices are not welcome. My apologies.  Love myself so much that I will never change just for you. I will never change unless I say so. No one can tell me how to live my life, especially you because your life sucks. It’s boring. Just so you know. I don’t even admire you- inside and out. And I would rather be me than you. You’re no Elvis. You’re no Jesus. You’re no answer. Wash your hands off - megalomaniac.

SORRY. JUST RANTING AND RAVING. ciao

now it feels better.. sigh

GOOD FRIDAY/ HOLY FRIDAY

On Friday, Rose, a friend from Zamboanga came to the big city, Metro Manila, for the first time. As a tradition, I always tour a visitor around the metro and show them what the metro is like. We invited an old friend, Kenneth, with us. We’ve seen each other after WWIII.  It has been my ritual that whenever a friend from my hometown visits manila, I always show them the Ayala Center, Bonifacio Global City and give them a taste of Starbucks. These sights and tastes do not exist in our home town, Zamboanga.  (Well, not yet). 

It was holy Friday and the metro was asleep. Manila is free from traffic and walking around the city feels good.  (Bless us for doing this no holy Friday hahaah) We met in Mcdo Pasong Tamo and walked our way to Ayala Triangle. And of course, not to forget the photoshoot!

I was about to use my camera to take pictures but I didn’t. Rose’s camera was better. It had a better image sensor, the colors were vivid and the image was sharp. 

These are the products of our photoshoot!

THEY SAY ITS "CHARITY KAY" WHOOOOOOAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!

LIGHT PAINTING FEELS SO GOOD

DEUSTCHE --  THEY SAY YOU READ IT AS "DOY-CHI"

A STOLEN SHOT - TAKING PHOTOS IN AYALA AVENUE IS NOT ALLOWED

SHY SMILE

DO I LOOK LIKE BIEBER?

ART SHOT - DRAMATIC

SHIT

WHILE STROLLING AROUND THE CITY...

DINNER WITH A GREAT VIEW OF THE CITY

TIMER

HOLD YOUR BREATH.. IT'S NIGHT MODE.

ORBS?? NO. MIST.

URBAN SHOOT

WE HAD SO MUCH FUN!

SUNDAY SHIFT 2

I love my schedule.  Fridays and Thursdays are my rest days. That means I get to work on Saturdays and Sundays. Weekdays shifts are toxic because tons of calls are coming in.  We are handling business account and most offices in the states open and calling in about problems and problems and problems. That means Saturdays and Sundays are “petiks” (easy) shifts.  I only get about an average of 1 valid call in every hour. That’s so great.

On the contrary, that is so boring because we get to do nothing for more than an hour, except to wait for a call. We are not allowed to surf the internet. Facebook and other social networking sites are big NOs. Bringing a music player is also not allowed.  Anything that is not work related is a big NO NO and that makes it so boring.  

Well, to kill the boredom, started to write anything. I remembered I did tell myself before that I should be a great writer. That’s why I started this shitty blog.  Because of Sunday’s boredom, I was able to write a lot of things. Most of the writings in my blog are written during Sunday shift. But this time, I just thought of something different. Why not write poems?  

I wrote poems. I wrote random shit from my mind, trying to be an artist, acted like one. I started to mention the moon, the sky, the stars, nature, dreams and some sorts of things. I wrote things about pressure, sex, love, hate, insecurities, fame, weirdness, money, pain…  

Few days after, I read all the poems that I wrote and “WHAT THE HELL!” I felt disgusted to myself I told my self not to write poems again.  I laughed at them. I don’t think they’re bad (although they suck), I just felt corny and gay about it. I couldn’t imagine myself writing a poem, I still did, anyway.

On another Sunday shift, I was discreetly chatting, sending message to someone not from work out of boredom.  Then she replied, “tulog na po is ate”. I got a reply. It was not her. It was her sister. Then, we began chatting with each other. She began telling me about the songs she wrote and how it became mainstream in FM in Zamboanga city. She sent me the lyrics of the song. I was impressed by it. She even sent me the link of the songs so I can listen to it.  Although those are not the type of music  that I listen, I was amazed by her talent and guts to share what she wrote. It was great because it was all in Chavacano (a local dialect in Zamboanga). The content was not great but I was so artistic because it is in Chavacano.  It sounded like Spanish, making it so cool.

I was inspired by it. Then, I started to write poems in Chavacano on that Sunday shift.  Although they’re not that great, they sound artistic because of the dialect.  It gave me the guts to share them because only Zamboanguenos can understand them. (Although i still laugh at myself for this HAHAHAHA) My friends in manila won’t.

I find these funny but at least i got an achievment- to write a poem. 

Jepoy!

Today is Jepoy birthday.  He is 12 years old. He just recently graduated from elementary school. He will be in high school this coming June 2011. Jepoy will be facing a new world as he faces a new season of his life. It is going to be “SEASON (n): Saying Bye-bye to Childhood and Hello to Adolescence”. 

Being a high school student was never easy. All kinds of pressure will greet ‘hello’ to you even if they don’t know you or you don’t know them. I have noticed that he didn’t show his last name on his Facebook. Maybe because he is ashame of it because it wasn’t that easy to pronounce. I think that he is afraid of being teased about it. Instead, he used his middle name as his last name- a sign of social pressure. He is afraid of being teased for that. (Unlike Monray, who proudly brags our last name. His friends even call him “TIW”).  

Jepoy is very playful. He loves to play games but hates it when he loses. Me and Monray bully him all the time especially when he gets upset when he is losing a game.  He also plays the ukulele but never shows to us. I think he’s shy to show it because his big brothers are really good at it. But I know Jepoy can become better than us in playing music instruments.

I am excited for Jepoy as he faces a new world. I wonder what he’ll be like when he goes to a high school. Is he going to be a rocker? an artist? A chickboy? A “good-grades” boy? A douchebag ? a cool kid? … no matter what he becomes, he will always be special to me. He will always be a cute little boy to me.

Today is his birthday and in feel so sad that I couldn’t be there…

Another Day 2

Everyday is a good day. New things happens. Today is the same. The only difference: today, some are documented. 


Got some chocolates with a hot woman on it! oooooohhhhhh

Ate an "exotic food"


jovito says: Baked Fresh Dilets in egg.. The common way to cook this is by frying. However, our stove ran out of gas and nobody wanted to go out so we decided to bake it instead. And lo and behold, the Baked Dilets, an anomalous and serendipitous food by pam... Congrats! (VIA FACEBOOK)


I say: THIS IS THE FUTURE OF "DILIS"

Pamela cooked baked this for us.

BOOKS

I love books. I don’t like reading a lot. I only read travel blogs and captions on pictures. I love books that have lots of pictures in it. I love pictures and art works. Listening to my type of music while reading art books is a bliss.  It makes me feel like I’m in the book, like I’m a  part of it.

Well, art books are expensive. I simply can’t afford them. So what I do is; I got to bookstore and enjoy their books and listen to my music in my walkman.

That’s my friend Genes. He goes with me when we go to bookstores.