Org-Shopping

I auditioned for Biorhythm yesterday. They just asked me to sing a song and to sing the notes they strike on the piano. Okay. I think it’s a weeee bit unfair because Sedricke, the org president, gave me all the difficult notes: flat, minor, sharp---only a little major ones. Ugh. But he gave the girl before me a lot of major notes. Oh well.

And then the killer question: if you have a test, say, in Math 17 the next day but you have to practice for the org, what will you do? Attend the practice or study?

The ‘auditionee’ before me said she’d attend the practice, after thinking for some time. When the question came to me, I answered point blank: I’d study. I didn’t come to UP to sing. I don’t know what Sedricke wanted to hear, but that was what I wanted to say, so. End of story. I kind of don’t want to join badly anymore…after learning that they have practice twice a week from 4 to 7 pm. No can do.

Now I’m a little desperate. I have to join an org which isn’t too demanding and which I am actually interested in besides that reason. I could join the Political Science Society, or Polis, but they’re not really remarkable except that they sell tickets all the time. I could join the Student Christian Movement (of which Geronimo is the chairman of), but it’s an activist org. Geronimo told me that I could play a ‘passive’ activist. But passive activism, whichever way you call it, is activism.

But you know what? I’m actually toying with the idea. I’ve found that only ignorant people view activism as something radical and activists as rabid, misguided souls. It’s the media and it’s the government (who controls the media) which fans the fires of that ignorance. How can the ignorant reach such conclusions, though?

Activism becomes radical simply because it opposes the gods in power. Since the gods decree what right and wrong and everything in between is, they label their enemies in such a way as to discredit them. In this case, ‘radical’ is the label, something which is anathema to the traditional Filipino. Activism is not radical. It is just the other side of the fence, the side where the gods dare not trod.

And would you believe, a lot of activists are actually quiet, unassuming people. They don’t run around naked in school with war paint on their weenies. They read and understand to learn, and once learning, to change.

Can I be one of them? Can I…

Of course I’m not joining any rah-rah rallies. I don’t have faith in rallies and demonstrations changing the course of anything. They can, yes, but only when they’re major enough that even the media can’t distort their cause/s. I think that information dissemination, note, effective information dissemination can convince and change more successfully than rallies. Going underground, beneath the noses of the degenerates, is the best way to wage a war. For me.
Which brings me back to the question: where do I go? Tcha, anyway, I still have tons of time to think. In the meantime, what. I dunno. Wheredoigowheredoigowheredoigo.
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Share! Share!

Geronimo said he dreamed a few years back about me (which means he’s never met me, yet). He dreamed that after I finish PolSci, I would take up Comparative Lit in Diliman and then teach. Now that’s weird. I’m only just thinking about that option lately and I haven’t shared it with him yet. Huh. He says and does a lot of things that make my life a novel by Isabel Allende, or maybe Laura Esquivel. Have I said that here yet? No? Now that’s a story worth telling, someday.

Well, what do you expect from a guy who sees dead people walking?

The Anti-Cure

I’m 18. I have my whole life ahead of me. I have more important things to worry about than those stuffy people in power and what they do to ruin this country. Important things, like, make-up, clothes, and the latest cell phone model. I have my grades to lose sleep about. I have a life untouched by the petty politics of this doggone country.

Have these thoughts ever run across your mind? No?

Hypocrite. While apathy can make things run okay for a while, making a religion out of it cannot keep your illusions. Get this: the country of which you are shamefully a citizen of is sinking. Not because of some macho geological upheaval, but because of ignorance and apathy. Your ignorance and apathy.

I mean, have you ever heard of this Cha-Cha thing? Sure, it’s about this change from a presidential government into a parliamentary one. What else? Uh… isn’t that it? Unfortunately, no. Cha-Cha involves far more than a simple change in the system. It deletes and amends certain articles in the constitution which can make things nastier for the country.

For one, it proposes to give parity rights to foreigners so that they may be able to pour in more investments to the country. All natural resources would be free to be exploited and profited from by foreigners. Now I find this really stupid. Stupid. Can’t Ate Glo see that even now, ‘free-trade’ is hurting our economy? She believes that a surge of investment would be the hero to save us. She seems to believe that opening up our country like a free bag of gold to the world can give us more gold. True, while foreign investments can create jobs and new industries, larger profit escapes the country. Para lang tayong binigyan ng kanin, pero sa kano yung ulam.

Also, there is the ease of enforcing Martial Law if Cha-Cha had its way. Impeachable cases such as corruption and loss of public trust would not be impeachable anymore. Even the educational system is affected since Cha-Cha absolves the government from providing quality schooling to the public.

More importantly though, is the question: does a change in the system bring about a change for the better in the country?

Representative Teddy Casino seems to believe otherwise. He asserted that while the government processes would change, the ruling class will stay the same and reign the same. The biases and bigotry of the elite cannot be wiped away by a charter change. Corruption as a disease cannot be cured by a few amendments if the same people perpetrate it. Cha-Cha is not a solution to the problem. Cha-Cha is a complication to the problem, an anti-cure.

What then, would be a solution?

We can begin with ourselves, really. Is it hard to be aware of the upheavals we, as a nation, face today? I’m a teenager myself. I don’t really care a lot, but I’m forced to since I’m a Political Science student. It doesn’t hurt.

They affect my life, these upheavals. They are bound to affect yours. Not knowing about them does not render them non-existent, and not doing anything about them does not solve them.
Instead of being the Anti-Cure, how about becoming a Cure? Just know more, and the rest will follow, like clear directions to the next Share-A-Load station

Not An Addict

My favorite band now is K’s Choice. All I know is that they’re from Belgium…which means that I should know more. I’ve never become a fan of anyone, yet. And K’s Choice comes along.

From their song ‘Not an Addict’:

It’s not a habit it’s cool
I feel alive
If you don’t have it you’re on the other side
I’m not an addict
Maybe that’s a lie

Not really tons impressive, but I love the melody. The song begins with a sort of desperate sob, segues into angry minor notes and then bursts into a chorus bitter and happy at the same time.

From ‘Virgin State of Mind’:

There’s a chair in my head
In which I used to sit
Took a pencil and I wrote
The following on it
Now there’s a key where my wonderful mouth
Used to be
Dig it up and throw it at me
Dig it up and throw it at me

Now, this sounds…medieval. If you played Final Fantasy 8, its overtones would be a little similar to the sound when Ultimecia appears. The song’s lead and rhythm are done in flute and violins, the drums are subdued, and there is no screeching electric guitar. Very gothic. Oh yeah, I think it was from the series ‘Buffy The Vampire Slayer’.

From ‘Paradise in Me’:

Consuming far too much
Ignoring the will to touch
The ones who don’t have food at all

So beat me up
And smash my brand new TV
To help me look for
A little peace
A paradise in me

I think the song is a statement about how shitty the developed countries treat the Third World. The song is very linear…no brilliant leads or prodigy drum-playing. No build-up. Just a quick intro with an electric guitar, quick drums, and before you know it, it’s over.
I just like the words in it.

Now what makes them special? Hm. The voice, I think. The lead singer has a low, husky, paos voice. It’s the kind of voice you would normally hear in a jazz song, but she’s doing rock.

Other musicians I like now: Colin Bailey Rae, Plumb, Mojofly, Oasis, Barbie. I also like Kamikazee, Parokya ni Edgar (siyempre!!!), 3 Doors Down, Vertical Horizon, Hale, Chantal Kreviazuk, Tori Amos, Goo Goo Dolls, Duncan Sheik, Adam Sandler, Indigo Girls (and not just their ‘Power of Two’…spare me the typecasting. What other song of theirs do you know?), Session Road, Lisa Loeb, Dido etc. I don’t really know how to classify my kind of music. Do you?

That Pink Polka-Dotted One

It was Shane's debut yesterday. Got home by 2 am, probably the latest I stayed out so far. And I, also, am 18. Which really entitles me to stay out more and longer, but I get sleepy in even the most energetic party by promptly 8 pm. So it's simply impractical.

I dragged my ass home as if I was drunk, which I wish I were so my slurr and my disjointed swagger as I left the place were justified. But I don't drink. I can't stand alcohol. Spent most of the night talking to Manoy. I can never run out of anything to say to her---be it philosophical or absurd or about non-existent love-lives. She's the only person I can talk to without even a hint of presumption, after all this time. Paul is supposed to come close, be he listens to me with something that makes me feel as if he is simply waiting for me to say something wrong so that he can establish a bit of his superiority. Yes, he's condescending. Peace, man. =)

There's another like Manoy who I also love arguing with. It's Geronimo. That's why I'm in love with him. A probable reason why he's in love with me too. It's been a year. Isn't that cool? I don't want to be his girlfriend. I don't want him to be my boyfriend. There's something about the terminology that makes it sound shallow and disjointed. We're not just friends, for one. Jessica Zafra suggested Fiance, Husband To Be, Meaning of My Life, The Loved One, blah. I think I'd sit for Fiance, or maybe, The Loved One. I'm not looking for short flings to be flung like used underwear in as short a time as you use one, anyway. Now that's terminology that makes sense: Flings are to be flung.

Moving on: I sang with Jennifer last night. It was promptly a disaster. Botched timing. Inattentive audience. It was painful. Now this is to be a very long story about who is to blame, but I don't want to hurt feelings. Suffice it to say that I couldn't look straight at her for a longish time. I dislike falling and being aided into it.

The debut as a whole was fun. I miss my batch a lot. We would probably be in another debut by July 5. Then August 12 and 11. I promise to go around more and not monopolize Manoy's time. I promise to sing another session and salvage my bruised pride...and not sing with the same person again. I should've realized that when the same thing happened when we were in 1st year. Ow.
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So why the title? My outfit was, argh, cute.

The Fresh UP Freshman

The fresh UP freshman is bright-eyed and obviously, outrageously, optimistic. He is of a proud race, his victory against the monster, UPCAT, still smelling of incense. She moves awkwardly and self-importantly at the same time. He has a guileless look about him, as yet unpolished by the sophistication of the metro and the knowledge imparted by the academe.

The fresh UP freshman is self-confident; indeed, it is rare to find one not known to assert himself in every single way inside the classroom. He wants to be leader, named or not. Her ideas are always right and more interesting than yours. He is ruthless, sometimes, and selfish when it comes to academic matters. How? That is for you to find out, when you become a fresh UP freshman.

The fresh UP freshman, for the first four months or so, stays fresh. He hopes. He believes. After the given period, he becomes jaded and feels like a used rag still whole only because of a few remaining stitches.

Do you know, UP can do things to people. Not all the time, but there it is. In exchange for the metropolitan and intellectual polish it is most certain to force on you, a weariness settles in your soul that cannot be completely shaken off even after you leave. It’s not just slowly brought about by a diminishing self-esteem, but a depressing awareness of the world you move in. You’ll see. They say ignorance is bliss.


P.S. Have you ever read of The Bet by Anton Chekhov? No? Please do. It’s a about a man who agreed to stay in solitary confinement for 15 years in exchange for two million. He spent the decade and a half reading all the greatest literary works of man, and became very wise. Find out what he did after the fifteen years and why he did it. Did he come out? Did he get the millions? Don’t worry, it’s only a short story.

P.P.S Why do I write like this? I’m reading A Pair of Blue Eyes by Thomas Hardy. I try to imitate the way Elfride converses. For some reason or other, I’m into the contemporary classics. I find that I have so much time on my hands, enough to be able to digest the complexities of an old novel.

Advanced Anniv

One year na pala akong blogger?! Kani-kanina ko lang ata napansin yun ha! May relevance ba ang puntong yun? Wala. Wala naman. =) Isang taon ko lang naman nabuwisit ang mga isang libo't tatlong daang taong nagkamali ng click. Hahaha! Much love and respect to everyone who's stepped in here and shared some of my non-existent brain cells with me.

Come To Think Of It

I think I’ll have a lot of fun in HumI. I can arrogantly say that I’ve probably read a lot more than my classmates already, being the bookworm that I am. I eat literature for breakfast.

Literally.

So I’m giddy about new stuff to read that I haven’t already gotten my hands on. There’s gluttony for food, lust for flesh, greed for money. What collective term would you give for the gluttony, lust, and greed for books? My case is not just plain bookworming. I would probably die if I don’t read anything, even just the back of Chocolait (and by the way I like Chuckie’s puzzles).

I don’t read so I can write, to get a grade, or to pass my time. I don’t read for leisure. I read for me. I love the emotions and sensations that a good author can bring out of me. I love the way words intertwine to form a picture of unimaginable beauty in my head. I love the way a world is built within a couple hundred pages. And most importantly, I love the way I can move through its walls like an omniscient spirit.

Why don’t I take Literature? Not a bad idea. Maybe after I graduate, if I get too lazy to wallow in Law. The idea sounds better and better…

Napaisip Saglit

Napansin ko lang ha, mabibibilang mo ang mga komento dito. Ang tagboard walang interesanteng nilalaman. Nagkakaroon lang ng buhay pag nag-publish ako ng sobrang totoo at/o sobrang mali. Pag naman medyo malalim na pilosopohan ang usapan, parang kinikilabutan ang mga mambabasa, walang masabi sa takot. O sa tamad. Haha.

Marahil ako lang ang nakakaintindi sa mga sinasabi ko...malamang! Iwanan na natin doon.

Ditties

My dadi practically ordered me to get fat! He said I’m underweight. My tattle mumi told him that I weigh 108 lbs at 5’3”---which technically makes him right. Those BMI guys should’ve taken account of flabs that aren’t supposed to be there and clothes that stopped fitting. Society does not care if your body mass index is below 25; they judge you by the way your belly juts our of your tres chic jeans! To hell with BMI
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Enrollment wasn’t the hassle it used to be. Not a lot of people turned up for it, at least, not quite the number they used to swarm in. They’re probably going to rally numbers for the late reg. Anyway, the lines yesterday were not as long. I remember the enrollment for last year’s second sem where the line for paying tuition covered almost the whole of the parking lot of the university registrar.

Anyway, I’m enrolled. My schedule is not so bad---four days of the week I spend are half-day classes. I have to be there by 7am though, except on Mondays and Wednesdays. Humanities I should serve as an incentive to wake up early. I hope.
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I’m reading William Makepeace Thackeray’s Vanity Fair. I’ve gotten it about two years ago but I didn’t finish it. Now is the perfect time. I guess I’m vain enough to understand Becky Sharp and Thackeray’s insinuations. Two years ago, I didn’t have the literary depth to be able to. (Yabang)
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I’m back to composing. I dunno why I got the inspiration again…but definitely, the songs are not happy. I can’t make them happy. Is that something to be said about my feelings at the moment? Not good.
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I have to clean my room. All the school stuff I’ve hoarded for the past two months or so are lying around somewhere or other. The clothes I’ve squirreled away are lost somewhere in my mumi’s closet; they couldn’t fit in mine anymore. Sigh. Tis a monumental work, a whole day’s work to clean up my mess.

Something To Bite On

Something To Bite On

Lestat lost his equilibrium, once, when he figured out that the afterlife is not a bubble of happiness in heaven or a burning in the stakes of hell. He reasoned out that religion is nothing but a piece of dung to be thrown at devout believers.

In other words, he believed that life after death is simply, nothing.

Lestat believed that all your mortal sufferings are for naught, since no reward will come after your mortality is consumed. In other words, he thought that an upright and utterly moral life is useless, senseless, and a waste.

Heresy? We’re in the 21st century. Is there heresy in the 21st century?

Despedida

Sabi ni Paul ang despedida raw ay parang birthday party pero walang happy ending. Or so. Pero pano nangyari yon? Oo, hindi mo na nga makaksama yung tao, pero hindi naman siya mawawala. Lalayo lang. Hindi ko alam kung bakit nakakalungkot yon.
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Malapit na namang magpasukan. Hindi ako excited, tulad ng dati. Tinatamad na akong lumabas ng bahay o gumawa ng kahit ano. Ayoko na ring mangako sa sarili ko tungkol sa kahit na ano. Futility. That's the word. Normal ba sa lahat ng tao ang dumarating sa puntong wala nang punto? Parang east of the sun and west of the moon. A spot like that doesn't exist. Where I am now, doesn't exist.

Hindi naman ako nalulungkot. Hindi rin naman ako ganung kasaya. Parang, wala lang. Futility.

Nakakainis naman. Nakapag-despedida na pala ako, hindi ko man lang napansin. Despedida? Despedida palayo sa sarili ko. Sa realidad. Naglakbay ako sa isang lugar na kung saan lahat ng bagay ay walang halaga. Yan ang despedidang nakakalungkot.

Nakokornihan ako sa sarili ko. Tama na.

For Lack Of A Better Imagination For Titles

If learning to love yourself is the greatest love of all, tell me, then, what’s the worst? For love men have died. For love men have sinned. The tenants of the graveyard and of hell paid their tickets with love. Which kind?

The unrequited one.

Ramble, ramble. I intended to explain, but it’s Yakitate Japan right now. Bye bye.