Tanikala Isa: Nangangalumbaba at Nakaupo sa Kawalan

Recently, I've started writing in Tagalog.

I don't know if its my own patriotism kicking in or I'm just assuming that Tagalog has a more comic effect than that of the Hurrahs and Hurrays of the English language.

Matagal na akong naghahanap ng isang konkretong kaisipan na maari kong mailathala, mabigyan ng buhay at mabigyan ng identidad. Mahirap nga lang na isipan na kahit na nais mong gawan ng isang magandang prosa ang ganitong bagay ay may nakaisip na nito, or better yet, someone already made the job of making it into a masterpiece.

Buhay nga naman, its really small that you end up seeing it in all its four corners. (Musni, 2010)

Nais ko sanang isulat ang aking pagkapanalo sa wikang aking kinagisnan, ngunit, nawawalan ako ng gana sa gitna ng pagbibigay pugay dito. Its unfair for me not to give myself credit when I know that I deserve it - I have the bragging rights, but its quite stupid for you to brag about when you know that someone might not even take time to read it.

Its like talking to an empty stretch of parchment - it never replies, nor does it give any intentions of making you feel any more better. (Musni, 2010)

Maybe I'll stop now, and maybe, just maybe, mamaya I have something better to write rather than quote on random stuff that I know everyone already knows.

See yah later.

Parang Tanga

Alam niyo ba yung feeling na dapat, you are supposed to do something really, really important, as in yung tipobng fuck yeah important, pero andito ka pa din sa blog mo, nagsusulat, at patuloy ap rin na iniisip kung anong dapat gawin upang magkaroon ka ng ideas that are fresh from the oven.

For the past few days, kulang ang ideas na pumapasok sa utak ko, para inaamag na ata yung dati kong tinatawag na "writing prowess" ko. Nasaan na kaya yun? Hindi naman siguro nagtatago yun sa sulok ng bulok na mundo na pilit tinatakasan ng tao.

To hell with creative ideas. Gawa na lang tayo ng blog, baka sakali may maisip pa tayo. Teka nga, ginagawa ko na pala, para na talaga akong tanga, nauulol, nababaliw, natutulala at parang baliw na aanga-anga sa walang pakundangan na pag-ilaw ng LCD sa aking harapan.

Nakakadismaya ngayon ang aking isip, nawawalan ng kulay, parang balck and white ng digicam, buti nga hindi sepia, mas malala pa nun ang inabot ng utak at pag-iisip ko. Nakakalungkot man isipin na wala na ngang makubuluhang bagay ang napaparito sa aking isipan, ngunit, meron pa din nung mga random moments kung saan, parang poof! may inspiration ka, Yes! makakapagsulat ka nanaman ng isang makabuluhan na tanikala na maaaring ipagmalaki mo.

Oops.

Ang corny pala.

Parang you just have to sigh. Face reality, at pabayaan na maglakad na lamang ang mga daliri sa keyboard ng computer, in hopes na makakatsamba at makakagawa ng tanikalang matagal ko nang hinahanap.

Parang tanga eh, buti naman hindi mas masahol sa gago.

The World As We Know It

The world as we know it ladies and gentlemen, is indeed

a very UNFAIR setting, where

IDIOTS


MORONS

HOOLIGANS

Cant do anything to survive.

The world is not full of glitz and glamour that politicians and celebrities promise us, but its a life that we got to live.

Its a life that would make us tough.

Its a life where we have to let go of a few things to hold on to better ones

Its a life where love can sometimes be the cause of destruction

And its a life that we can run away from

I Really Tried Sleeping With A Broken Heart

It really doesn't feel good at all. Try closing your eyes and you see her face, her smile and everything that she is flashing on rewind and on playback on your mind, like a ballerina on an endless waltz.

I hate this feeling of longing whenever you wanted to tell her that you still want to be the one beside her, yet she ignores and avoids. Its like walking forward to catch up with her, but the space doesn't even close up even a tiny fraction of an inch.

Am I not man enough, nor am I not enough?

I constantly ask myself that silly fucking question if whether I deserve another persons heart; another persons time; and another persons hand.

Maybe its not the same way as I want it to be etched in destiny.

Maybe its meant to be that way.

Maybe its meant that I end up picking up myself from misery while another constantly assures her that she is worth it.

I can not find the assurance of my worth.

I have long been out of the game, the competition for her that I made in my mind.

I have long been the loser, battling against a battle already lost.

But just look my way again, and I'll be more than glad to show you that I more than what I once was, and what he is.

I Love You are only remaining weapons in my arsenal, and I will still fight with this, even though I am all wounded and bruised up.

I Love You, remember that. And no shadow nor lyre can keep me away from that.

Tomorrow Signals Forever

November 2, 2009
08:23 pm

Hours from now, the night would now wane into a new day, like it always does. But, tomorrow would be different. Tomorrow would not be the same day like any other day that I wish to end. Part of me is reluctant to wake up to that day, but a better part tells me to look at the adventures in store.
Tomorrow I say goodbye to my childish dreams of flying like a superhero and fighting off bad guys, or even dreams of growing old. Tomorrow, I say goodbye to the boogeyman in my closet or the ghost underneath my bed. Tomorrow, I say goodbye to my dreams of being a child, a kid, and a pre-teen, who would always babble over senseless clichés and fuss over random faux pax.
Tomorrow, I would once again leave a part of me behind my past, thinking of ever looking back at it again. And tomorrow, dreams of me becoming a prince charming saving a damsel in distress would now be put to its halt and would remain as a fleeting memory of my insecurities.
When the clock strikes twelve, and when I open my dew-laden eyes, I think I would now be looking at the whole world with a new perspective, viewing a farther horizon on what I once can see for the past seventeen years of my life.
Yes, tomorrow, I am turning eighteen, branded as a young-adult – a new member to the adult population of the country, and another insecure, inferior and pimple-marked teen who just went out of his sheltered cocoon, waiting for the things that would be thrown at him of the so-called life.
I am eighteen tomorrow. And the dawn of the thought isn’t hitting me right now. Perhaps tomorrow, when my friends text me their greetings, or they ask you for a free treat, that the idea of me turning a year old would smack me squarely in the face. But tonight, as I exhaust of what is left of what I think is my talent in writing, the truth is quite elusive; evading my thoughts of entering adulthood, evading of what would seem as my idea of being a man than a boy.
I am thankful that tomorrow, I survived yet another mortal year; surviving yet another game of hide and go seek together with death; and surviving yet another encounter with God’s judgment day.
I am thankful that I live.
I am thankful that I got a really nice family that just does what a family does.
I am thankful that I got the best set of friends, both from La Salle and my province in Bikol.
I am thankful that I got to meet a lot of people who help me build a puzzle of who I am.
I am thankful that I am in one of the best schools in the country.
And I am thankful to God that I still am alive for the past eighteen years.
It’s not everyday that I write about what is running around in my mind, and it’s not everyday that I turn eighteen.
Tomorrow, when I wake up, maybe, just maybe, the facts about my birthday aren’t going to hit me straight in the face unless I’m already eating noodles which my mom would cook for me.
Tomorrow, I say goodbye to a fragment of what I call my seventeen year-old memory, and would say hello to my new 18 year old memory.
Happy Birthday John Mark, and I wish you all the luck that you can get.

Of Weird Clouds and Youtube

Does anyone know what these weird words are for?

Just recently, I knew that these random words stand for tag clouds that you would usually find at youtube.
(Believe me, I just recently knew this one, and just recently I knew that this kind of thing exists.)

But back to reality.
Last November 25, we did an experiment for one of our subjects in school wherein we would be monitoring the video traffic or the videos that are being uploaded in youtube for a span of 6 hours.

It was really a long wait, and for every two hours we have to take note of the videos recently uploaded and the genre of the video, as well as from what country the video was uploaded from.

Tally:

How to – 7
Entertainment – 35
People & Blogs – 48
Comedy – 15
Music – 20
Sports – 14
News & Politics – 8
Travel & Events – 4
Education – 6
Auto & Vehicles – 6
Removed – 4
Pets & Animals – 3
Gaming – 5
Film – 4
Non-Profits & Activism – 1
Science – 2

Total Videos: 182


• Most commonly used tags: Entertainment, People & Blogs

• Average length of video upload: 2-3 minutes

• Average age of the video uploader: 17-20 years old

• Statistics of uploads by country:


• Statistics of uploads by language:



• Count of videos blocked: 1 but 3 videos were removed.



Other significant results:
• There were new categories added to the usual categories such as Non-Profits and Activism.

Toying with Old Memoirs and Bluer Skies

Nostalgia

It's always like that whenever you miss the people that you really hold dear, despite your sentiments against them, as well as their shortcomings.

It's always like that, always.

But, I really don't get it why its that why.

It might be some lingering feeling of guilt over the people that you want to prove yourself again. To show that you are worth it, and not just a face in the background of each class picture taken.

I just read some common Bicol terms in the library recently, and it made me feel all nostalgic. Its like black and white images, still and moving, are flashing in my mind one by one - like a movie on repeat. Its like a film, that ceases to end, and would continue to linger, to transcend and to withstand the test of time.

All of them in the picture, including me have moved on with our lives. We chose the path that we want to pursue, chased the dreams that we long for, and made the mistakes that our mind can't fathom just yet. Most of us chose paths that time has been pushing down on us, but some were courageous to go against the flow and cast their own shadow.

I wanted to cast my own shadow. But that's not possible at this moment. Nor at any other moment at a time called youth.

But let's go back.

Once upon a time, I met all of them, and like happily ever after, i will remember them.