> appLes in my basKeT

Remember my post about going to Baguio for relaxation? to unwind? to be free? It helped a lot. When I got back, I feel like free as a bird. The promise that I’ll be better succeeded. I have learnt to be just there, don’t mind things and be happy for whatever life brings.

As I write this, my shift has already ended but I’m still at work. Still waiting for the perfect time to leave. With a heavy stomach brought by our Banchetto, and a happy heart because I’m still breathing and surviving despite all the chaos.

I still remember the time when the rebel in me tried to fight back. I even thought that peace of mind was nothing but rarity. Not only I became extremely paranoid, I started to really boil over.  Maybe the days of frustrations have built up deep inside of me that I deserve at least one sleepless night to think things over, to sort things out, and to just let it go.

Salamat sa Baguio.

Oh yes, I still am quite angry at some people.  I still can’t let go of a past I should have let go in the first place.  I still get the feeling that I’ve been screwed over one too many times that I can’t help but be an accuser for once.  I still get the feeling that the brunt of “injustices” in this world are passed off to my direction just like used condoms in a motel [sheesh, the metaphors].

Enjoying the company of Gay, Abi, Abhi [Yes, they’re two different people], Ed, Alma, Zelot, Nina, Kelly, Lanie made a great realization. It finally hit me: “injustice,” like “justice” itself, is a perspective.  I often complain that I’m too under-appreciated and taken-for-granted, that I should take my grievances somewhere to someone who would perhaps listen.  Then I thought how much time I wasted looking for reciprocity, for appreciation, for acceptance… so much so that I forgot how much is already in front of my table.  So much so that I forget about the apples already in my basket.  Isn’t that enough to be thankful for?

Sure, I made a few mistakes.  No, wait, I made a LOT of mistakes.  But I kind of forgot how many times, and in how many ways, I got up and took what’s coming, and kept on walking.  I kind of forgot how many times people tried to knock me down, and time and time again, I always clawed my way back up.

So yeah, I always made complaints about how many people didn’t help me when I was down.  I’ve always complained about how many people didn’t become my crutch, how many people screwed me over, and about “getting tired” when nobody “comes to my rescue.”  It took me a sleepless night to realize how much of myself was formed not because I was up, but because I was down.  Of how much of me smells like smoke because I went through the fire, not around it.  Of how much of me stands because I fell.

So I guess I can’t say I got screwed over.  There are too many blessings for me to count. There are to many friends for me to count. Salamat!

> byE beBz…

My friends usually call me “bato sa pag-ibig”, frigid or “manhid”. Not that I’m a hater or a loser of sort, just that I don’t allow myself to be lured by all the promises a love usually brings.

I have been self-guarded and aloof for the past years. I used to keep falling in love for all the wrong reasons, and then I go emo all over it.  Romance to me then, has become a preoccupation brought about either by boredom or by necessity.  I guess all it took was for me to find a good-enough distraction to get myself out of love for good.

And then it happened.

Gone were the days where love is a thing I’ll always sought for. Gone were the days where I’ll let myself be hurt. I fell and got hooked again. I enjoyed it and loved it.

Then Z came along, a disaster. I guess the word [disaster] need not more explanation. All my defense were shaken and tested. All those years where I’ve been “manhid” came to an end. I allowed myself to be sensitive again only to be sorry. I guess I haven’t really given up my defense.

In a word: catharsis.  It’s a lot like diarrhea, enema, or a good vomit after drinking copious quantities of beer.

Pardon to all “into love” at this point.  If there’s anything I learned from this another free fall with romance, it’s that you don’t really need it.  I know this is going to sound extremely toxic [in many senses of the word], but if you find yourself wasting a lot of time and energy on people who do not reciprocate your affections, much less genuine gestures of friendship, then they really, really aren’t worth what you expend.  So yeah, you’re wasting your time.

At this age, it’s a given that I’m not getting any younger.  But that doesn’t mean that all other opportunities for me to find someone who is worth my time and my effort diminish every day I grow older.  There are plenty of other opportunities out there, not necessarily for romance.  Getting to meet new people, learning new stuff, going to new places, and trying out new things.  I may be getting old, but everything around me is always a brand-new thing that either I never experienced before, or I never really enjoyed.

No more chains, baby! No more Bebs, that is!

Protected: > reacT

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> naoki UraSawa’s monsTer

I have long been planning to go back into reading. After finishing Harry Potter series, no other book has caught my attention again. It was only after my good friend JD lent me his manga book that I tried to open some pages again. But since I’m not really a fan of mangas, I ditched it.

Few days ago, while trying to get a sleep and nursing myself from pain brought about by my “kidney stone sickness” or whatever you call it, I resorted to reading. Not with the intention of really being drawn to the story but just to get my eyes tired thinking that it will help me sleep.

Few pages after, the bug hit me. I can’t allow myself to sleep anymore. Not after I’ve been introduced to Dr. Tenma.

There are a lot of misconceptions about the medium of manga.  The obvious ones are that it is childish and conceptually weak. I am guilty and I hate it. The reason for the misconception is that manga is not a genre, manga is a fairly diverse medium that covers everything from the children’s shonen [means “young boy” and is a genre] all the way to more adult [non-pornographic] themed dramas.

Monster is a manga that I suggest for people to read when they are coming from this misconception. I bet you’ll also be sorry for how long you’ve disregarded the manga venom. Monster is a complex drama that reads like a puzzle as it puts together pieces slowly throughout the story until you have a whole at the end.

The bright white cover of Naoki Urasawa’s Monster [VIZ signature] belies the subject matter of this gloomy suspense series: a serial killer story centered around a gifted Japanese surgeon who may have saved the life of a nine-year-old murderous psychopath.

Dr. Kenzo Tenma, a brilliant Japanese neurosurgeon based in Düsseldorf, Germany has the skills to save lives. His life turns upside down on the day he finds out that a boy he operated on nine years ago has grown up to be a murderer.

Dedicated to the healing arts, Tenma finds out early on that his idealism leaves him ill-equipped to deal with the vicious backbiting of hospital politics. After operating on and saving the life of a famous opera singer instead of a poor immigrant laborer who arrived at the hospital first, Dr. Tenma finds himself haunted by his supervisor’s and his fiancé’s contention that “not all lives are created equal.”

So when Tenma must next choose whether to operate on a highly-placed political official versus a young boy with a bullet wound to the head, his decision to work on the boy sets in motion a series of events with repercussions that will ripple across his life almost 10 years later.

As the many mysteries of Monster reveal themselves, Tenma finds that the little life he saved nine years ago is at the center of a vast conspiracy of Eastern European espionage, mind control and murder. Can he solve this dangerous puzzle before it kills him?

I have not read enough of Urasawa’s works to make this claim yet, but if he continues to weave suspenseful stories that keep you turning the pages the way Monster does then I may start calling him the Hitchcock of manga.

I have yet to finish the whole story though. I’m just on the 1st book.

Protected: > knOw if he’S cheaTing or You’re just cheaTing yourseLf

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> my reFugE

Have you ever noticed how much energy it takes to be angry? Just this morning, we had yet another issue with my neighbor and I found myself fuming again. After getting into a spat, I was fuming. I couldn´t even type.

That’s when it hit me… being angry just isn’t worth it. You waste all that energy that would be better channeled into something like doing your chores, finishing your TV series. Or in my case, getting a good sleep.

What can I do? I can’t just yell at them. I can’t just be like them. I can’t let myself be. For the past weeks, Kiko and Jc’s place has been my refuge when things go wrong. So either we end up just chatting, malling or going somewhere else. Here’s where we’ve been…

Good thing there’s always my trusted camera phone to save the day.

And yeah, these were from the time we went to watch movies, attend the debut of JC’s sister [with Kiko dancing the debutant], and food galore!

> sunDay oH sunDay…

Yes I know. Sunday is the time where we should enjoy as much as possible. However, for me I have been just slugging around doing nothing. Well, I did a little noodle soup for lunch with salmon and spinach. Then, watching a bit of T.V and then my bed started to call me. I tried to resist but it’s persuasion power was just too great.

Anyway, had a good nap and I woke up with quite a strange dream. Got to do with eating those of “Bulagaan Olympics'” yesterday. Oh yeah, I’m feeling great now too.

Thank you sa lahat na nag-suggest to have a second opinion of what I’m feeling.