cobyism

"Coution / WeT" daw...




This was posted on a wall at the back of a restaurant.

*Update*
I sent this photo to Cecile van Straten and here is her reply:
"OMG!!! Thank you for showing this to me. Will have this corrected ASAP! Lol... PS.will do this on Monday as Sunday is crazy busy."






That's Kellan Lutz on a Calvin Klein window. Who isn't lusting over him?
If you'd zoom a wee bit on that mannequin with the red undies... Stuffed, huh?
These days male mannequins with chests and flat tummies aren't enough anymore.
They've got to have the bumps, too, eh?
Shit. I wish I have a flat tummy.

It's 10:45 and I normally don't stay up this late unless I'm out. But I've some thoughts that I'd like to share just before I hit the sack. 

This is my first post in months and I would like to thank the blogs I've been reading recently for giving me ideas on what to write. Well, I really was envious of all their long posts and long list of comments. As a writer there's nothing more rewarding, more satisfying than people responding to your thoughts. Of course positive comments are hoped for, constructive ones are preferred over negative remarks. As you can see, my blog has a shortage in comments. I suddenly thought of reasons why I do not get a lot. Perhaps because I've not posted here for a while. I think I have to post more for more readers. But I do not think that I've a shortage in readership since it certainly does not equate to the number of comments on my blog. Did I just make sense? Hmm... Must be sleep kicking in (not yet!).

That's one down and a few more to go.

I've had the pleasure of ranking 2nd in my "official" batch on the Dean's List. "Official" because I belong to their batch according to my registration form. And we all know that that piece of paper is the physical representation of a page on a registrar's screen. The registrar is the official records keeper so that makes "official" official. I've always been asked about my year in college and I respond with a line I've been saying so many times I can say it in my sleep: "I'm a sophomore on paper, but if you're going to count my subjects, I'm actually a junior. I'm supposed to have graduated already, but I transferred schools." I don't really know why I had to make it so long. I don't know why I even bother explaining. I'm still in school and I should be glad even though my classmates from my first university have graduated already. But pride kicks in and I feel terrible for being left behind with a bunch of kids who are only a few years younger. I guess that makes me 2nd in my "official" batch of kids. But they're not all bad. Really. 

Even though I didn't graduate on time, I feel grateful for the opportunities that I've been getting. I was able to improve my writing (so far) and I've won literary contests. It isn't so bad. First prize on an essay and first runner-up on another essay; certificates of recognition and my name on the Paper. Not bad at all. Of course, there's the Dean's List which was a pleasant surprise. And literary contests I'm planning to join this year and the next. This extra time in school has become a blessing.

One problem I have is my hearing. Lately I've been saying "what" more times than I can say okay. And I always say okay, okay? I was watching CSI: NY (a favorite of mine since I've a crush on the show) and I was trying to help my brother with his homework at the same time. I couldn't hear him. I turned the volume down so I could hear him. And, yes, I said "what" every time. I was thinking I'd grow old deaf. That would be tragic since I get ideas by listening from other people. I don't want to wear a hearing aid since I'm already wearing glasses. I don't need another piece of metal or plastic on my head. But I'd like to try one thing before I conclude that I am getting deaf. I'll try not to listen too hard and not turn the volume up. I hope that helps. It should help, right? Do tell me it will. Please, sir? 

Finally, before sleep takes me to another 50m dash with zombies and babies, I'd like to say that I am happy. Not all day, but everyday, like Charlotte on Sex and the City. That was actually her line. She's not really my favorite character. She seems so proper and so... I don't know the word. I think I could relate to Carrie especially when she was getting successful in her career as a writer. She was so sure of herself - witty, stylish and confident - except for love. But right now I've somehow lost those and I'm trying to get them back on. There was a time when I saw myself in Samantha. She was always having sex like she's never had sex before. Like there's a void in her that she needs to fill with cum and other body fluids of hot, hard men on the show, but they don't seem to fill that void. Ah, the days of gay promiscuity. Thank goodness I'm done exploring that part of my sexuality. Domesticated, that's what my friend describes me. Not really, not entirely.

I would like to end this post with a line of my own dedicated to person snoring beside me:

"The small things that make you imperfect make everything perfect to me."

** This is only a rough draft of my sequel to Zita. This was done only for a class activity. I know I can write better. I didn't have time with me on this**


Francis Reteche’s love interest…

My name? My name is not important. Where I come from is not important. What is important is what I have done and what I feel. I have wronged so much that it made the only person who mattered to me leave. We were happy once; before I was lured by a false light; before my Francisco left me.

We were walking along the bright boulevard one sweet evening after an even sweeter dinner. We held hands as my shawl was taken by the wind and Francisco took it back for me. Sweet, sweet Francisco. We smiled at each other as our smiles showed our love. It was a memory.

You see, as a young lady in a make-believe world of young men, I am constantly expected to entertain. Men are my guests and are the stars that lead and rescue the damsel that I am. But Francisco is not one of them because he is my love. But I also love so many things and I tend to enjoy the benefits of my lucrative profession. Sometimes, even by the very men I am constantly surrounded by.

I am human. I am a woman above all else like Eve as she was tempted by the serpent in myth.

Early in the morning the young actress waits in her tent as she prepares for her role. She looks prepared for she has been reading her lines all day long. A younger actor entered her tent and went behind her to caress her back. “You’re tense,” he says to her. The young man was tall, exquisitely fair, dreamy eyes and a body that would make any young woman scream in orgasm. She was indeed tense. And they locked each other in heated embrace and sighed to the delight of their nerves. Until the lady’s true love enters with a bouquet of flowers and all hell breaks loose.

It sounds like a scene in a movie, right? Well, sometimes they happen in real life. It happened to me.

I could still remember my Francisco’s face. It was of shock, disbelief, anger. Unspeakable anger. He left and never returned to me.

My friends, in this world of make-believe of which I am a part of, there are some things that are as true as losing the only man who ever made my life real.

Turong’s tale…

My name is Turong. I live on this island for a very long time now. I have seen people come and go in Anayat, especially this person fetched letters for, Francisco Reteche.

He was an interesting fellow. Didn’t say much. He was a school teacher here. When he came to the island, he didn’t look like a teacher. He looked like a man with heavy problems -- fisherman who lost the catch of his life. He lived with me at my hut. He was quiet, always problematic-looking, but he was a good man. Father Cesario said we should just respect him and let him be and we do. Sometimes I just wonder what’s in his mind, you know?

He started teaching here immediately. It was like trying to catch a school of fish for him. It started slow because the children were frightened of him. Not one fish would dare enter his net back then. But eventually, he learned to trust his net and fish came. He finally caught the children’s hearts.

They were all good. But I know that Francisco lost on big catch long ago. And even though a beautiful sardine got caught in his snare, he will never forget that big salmon he let go in the past. How do I know? Come on, every problematic man has a woman or a fish behind it. I lost fish too, you know? Sardine? I’m referring to that pretty girl, the daughter of Don Eliodoro. What’s her name? Zita! Pretty little Zita.
Anyway, Francisco began receiving packages from the mainland. Whenever I would give his package he had this expression that he’d faint at the slightest touch. It looks serious. Of course, I would not dare ask but I did hear bits and pieces of it. They say it’s about a lady from far away. They say it’s about fish or a person. They also say that he would shred those letters to pieces and that he would spend so much time with Zita.

They say so much about the man. Why don’t they just leave him be? He is a good man, I tell you, a good man! He’s just troubled. I just hope that he didn’t break Zita’s heart like that.

Francisco and Zita were almost inseparable. They started as teacher and student. But something happened, I don’t know what. They spend so much time together at the Don’s house and Zita began wearing those dresses from the city. I think Francisco was good for Zita because she was becoming more beautiful everyday. She was always happy and so was Francisco. They’d dance to this song I don’t know and they’d eat and laugh together. They were like a real couple. Except that Zita was way younger that Francisco. Like how dolphins would dance with whales, you know? Then something came and Francisco decided to leave the island. Zita was struck bad. Poor Zita. She’s no longer the same today.

I dropped him at the mainland. That was 2 weeks ago. That’s one mighty fish gone, and here’s one fish rotting. If only things were different, you know?

Zita's account…

There he goes by the shores of Anayat eagerly saying his goodbyes to all the people who grew on him. Everyone except me. What a fairy tale ending.

Once upon a time he came to Anayat a gloomy and sad man. He didn’t have any friends here. He stayed with Turong and taught in my school. He was very quiet. Then we became close. He started teaching me things he wouldn’t teach the other children. Papa says it’s for my own good. But you know, I felt that it was something more than just teaching me how to look and act like a lady of the city. I felt something stronger.

We’d then spend almost every single day together. We’d be laughing and sharing stories and having fun. It was wonderful. It was like a fair tale come true. At least for me it was.

Francisco was a good teacher and a good man. Francisco was a prince. And I loved him. But he broke my heart. He went on a path I couldn’t go. He left me alone here. Alone with this pathetic letter! I tore the paper into pieces because all my hopes and dreams have been taken from me. All taken along with the man who helped me made them. This is unfair. This is not fair!

I remember the first time he saw this little island girl who goes by the name Zita. He acted like it was impossible for the girl to have that name. He was trying to prove that it wasn’t her name. And the time when we wrote something for him and he read something from a blue paper which wasn’t ours and we couldn’t understand every single thing of it. Now I understand.

Why couldn’t he stay here? Why couldn’t he stay with me? Why couldn’t she just leave that beast who left her? I’m not stupid! I know now that those letters have come from a woman. I know that the moth was that woman! I’m not stupid! I’m not stupid! This is unfair! My prince has left me for a witch.

There he goes by the shores of Anayat eagerly saying his goodbyes to all the people who grew on him. Everyone except me. He eagerly said his goodbyes to everyone and he leaves me with a letter. A stupid letter! I curse the day he ever came into my life!

I promise myself that I will no longer love any other man. I promise myself that I will never let this happen to me again. It hurts so much. It hurts. Never will this happen again. Never. What a very interesting fairy tale ending.

It's amazing when we all go out with friends, party all night, and finish it off with a great breakfast somewhere. Lots of laughs and stuff. Of course, we all want to have memories of our trips to the clubs so we take photos, upload them online and laugh about them until we upload another batch of craziness.

So there I was, marking the photos in my phone which I will be uploading in a moment when suddenly my phone froze. I couldn't access anything. I did the usual reboot thinking that it's just a minor glitch. But no. Apparently, I've lost all of my photos and videos from the night before!

I tried to look for answers by navigating thru so many applications when suddenly a little message popped up: Memory card corrupted.

How can it happen? This is totally outrageous! Sobrang sayang all those photos and videos I haven't posted yet.

I can't seem to do anything about it. My phone's not a laptop where I can plug a memory stick. But then, laptops crash too.

I'm really disappointed. All those great photos and videos down the drain. I sure hope this doesn't happen again... Parang nagsunog ako ng pictures.

No age limit, but there should be guidelines on posting comments and the like.

My partner and I planned to go to the beach. We had to take a 1-hour boat ride to reach our destination but the "captain" decided to wait for more passengers even though our boat was full and the trip was extremely behind schedule. When we got to the beach, a storm was brewing so we had to stay in our room most of the time because of the rain. On our way back, it rained hard and the sea was nowhere near calm. It was scary. After almost 2 hours, we reached the port. We took a bus going back to the city, but our money wasn't enough and there were no ATMs nearby. The bus took us as far as our fare could. Eventually, we reached the city and had to search for an ATM in the rain.

Creative Writing.

I know what you're thinking right now. You're thinking about being the smartest boy in your batch. You want to become the coolest guy in high school. You desperately want to fit in just to have many friends. And there's nothing more important in the world for you than making your Mom proud. You're probably thinking how unbelievable that I know all these, too.

I used to be you.

You may not realize this yet, but eventually you will get everything you want in time. You're going to have what you've always dreamed of. But not right now. You can't have everything all at once after all.

Becoming me isn't easy. There were times when I had to let go of things I had. There were times when I got really hurt. I even had to sacrifice really important things. You will not know how far the ripples of your decisions will go, but you will learn to be thankful for them.

I would want to tell you to avoid certain things, but where's the fun in that? I'll tell you instead that you will learn balance. You will learn compromise. You will learn authority. You will learn the pleasures of the flesh and the irony of relationships. And you will want these so much that you won't stop until someone tames you.

When I was your age I wanted to beat the other boys in school academically. So far you're doing well. But I want to tell you that you've already made it clear to them that you are. I didn't know it then, but I realize now, and you will, too, that it doesn't matter anymore. You're smart, trust me.

I wanted to have as many friends I could find. I wore the clothes, I bought stuff, and I hung out at the right places. I wanted to fit in because I needed friends. I didn't want to be an outcast. But these people are simply people from school, save for one or two. You'll learn that having a big group of friends isn't for you. But all those things you bought, all those clothes you wore, won't be in vain. You will have a handful of good friends you will trust.

You want to be cool; you will learn to be cool. You're going to have so much fun being cool. I was cool once. I hung out at cool bars, got invited to cool parties. I met, made out, and even slept with cool people. But I got tired of it. You will, too. Now I'm just glad I'm with someone good to me. And that's cooler than your cool. But have fun while you're at it in a year or two.

I want to tell you now that Mom is extremely proud of you despite of all the mistakes you're going to make. It's not only because she loves you, but she knows what kind of person you will become after all your mistakes. She knows you're doing well in school. She knows you're taking care of your brothers. She knows so much of you that you don't even know yet. 6 years from now, Mom will tell you she's happy that you're her son and all your hard work will have paid off.

When I was you, I thought nobody would understand the kind of person I was. I was wrong. I opened up and I felt accepted. I've done so much more and felt at peace with myself. One day you will come out and it will be one of the greatest moments of life.

I wanted to tell you that you are going to have relationships. You're going to have a couple of lemons, and some rotten ones. Learn from them. You can forget about the memories, they won't do you any good anyway. After all your heartaches and tears, someone will make it all worth your while.

I wouldn't say that 6 years from now your life will be perfect. There are so many wonderful things that you will experience; so many bad ones, too. But don't be frightened of them. Be proud of yourself because one day you will be rewarded.

What I’d like you to consider now is to commit and never back down. Learn to face the music when things don’t go your way. Finally, I want you write. Write everything you want, everything you feel. Start writing now and don't stop. It will get you far.

47 minutes ago I opened my eyes for the first time today. I found myself surrounded by pillows from head to toe and even though they invite me to go back to my boat on the calm, starlit sea, I refused to do so. I forced myself to get up but my body does not wish to cooperate just yet. My task now is simply to know what to do next.

I reached for my phone on the table beside my bed and with a few clicks I have entered the incredible worldwide web. Such is the convenience of technology today. One can connect with the world while still under the comfortable sheets of the bed. I checked for messages and notifications – none. I checked for emails and invitations – surprisingly none, too. I then checked for new blog entries and found some.

I read a couple of blog entries in a couple of minutes and I thought maybe I should write one. But what shall I write about? And what is there in this life that is worth writing and worth reading? Anything and everything, I believe. So let me talk about blogs instead, only for a while.

I think there are 3 kinds of blogs out there, 3 kinds for 3 different kinds of people. The first one talks about boring otherworldly topics (for the average person) using incredibly difficult words to understand. Their reason for writing in such a manner escapes me but it does have a steady flow of followers – those who are smarter than the average person and those who think they are. The next kind of blog is for the average person, I believe, for they talk about things that interest us (yes, I belong here) and they, too, use difficult words but sparingly. The third kind is the blog that rants and reeks with distaste for the Simple. They talk about their lives without fear of being scrutinized for they love the attention their blog receives. Of course, a reader would immediately (hopefully) determine the kind of person the blogger is simply by reading their thoughts on the Web.

Another thought which crossed my sleepy head a while ago was a game called Dante’s Inferno. I recently finished the game yesterday despite being extremely busy with my academics (since it’s one of the few stress relievers I have). The game caught my attention for its amazing graphics and the story behind it. I took a couple more minutes to Google the story on my phone and in a while I have finally started reading the plot.

Inferno is the first of a three-part epic poem written by Dante Alighieri centuries ago. It is Dante’s journey through the 9 rings of hell. It is a pilgrimage to face one’s sins and to overcome them. From my perspective, it’s the view of the medieval world of the afterlife as taught by the church. I have always believed that the church is simply an organization and nothing more. Its purpose is to maintain what is ideal and proper as perceived by man. To prove this I have one literary character to back me. Alice in her most recent trip to her wonderland asks a question similar to this: “Who’s to say what is proper? If a man (I’ve forgotten her term) says it’s proper to wear a codfish on your head, would you wear it?” But of course wearing a codfish on your head is completely silly because of man. In the same way, the church tells man what is ideal and proper in his lifetime. Furthermore, man believes when he is frightened. Centuries ago the church killed heretics and pagans, people, for their beliefs and it was proper then. The church in this world is holy because man wants it to look holy. But the holiest that man can accomplish, I firmly believe, is prayer to God. Of course man dictates this, but I will not argue with that any further.

Going back to Dante’s Inferno, I have really enjoyed playing the game. Like any other game it tasks me to defeat minions and bosses and win in the end. Playing the game was almost like reading the epic poem but with a few twists here and there. What I did not expect is the game’s effect on the player (or some). It made me rethink about my relationship with God. It made me think about the way I live my life and the sins I’ve committed. Since I was a young boy I’ve thought about heaven as a state of complete happiness and hell as the opposite. But if hell is as the game’s or the epic poem’s version or as the church says it is, then I wouldn’t want to end there. No sir.

Now that we’re talking about the end, let me say something about what happened yesterday and what I’ve noticed about it. There was an earthquake – not new these days. We’ve been beleaguered by earthquakes since late last year and it’s becoming a monthly event, it seems. I’m not going to predict where it’s going to happen next. I’m simply going to say that it’s downright frightening especially if you’ve seen the film, 2012. The film shows one version of man’s destruction. It started with earthquakes and ended with another. Let me entertain this though just once, what if these earthquakes would lead to that? Frightening, really. I wouldn’t want to end yet. In my previous post I mentioned about dying ready and happy knowing I’ve made an impact on others, but I was pertaining to dying because of organ failure, of natural causes, of diseases. To die by being run over, to fall from a cliff, or get squashed by heavy objects is extremely unsettling.

I close the browser on my phone and check the time. It’s already 6:47. I’ve been reading since 6. I’ve been reading and thinking of things I seldom talk about with others. I seldom talk about these because not many people I know would understand. Not many people are blogging otherworldly things or the minutes of their lives, to think about what is right from wrong, what is proper from not. I realize the average person does this all at once. Others simply cannot. Now let me go back to my first question: What shall I write? I shall write about my attempt to write anything and everything in the last 47 minutes and hopefully you’d undersand.

Every now and then I think about death. I think about how it will happen and what will happen afterwards. Because of death I started thinking about my achievements and contributions and if they really mattered. I also think about what I wasn't able to give. Most of all, I think about the people I love.

I appreciate the beauty and complications of life even though I forget to live from time to time. It is unavoidable. It is during these times when I remind myself to breathe.

But this is different. It's different when you feel something's coming. Something you don't know. It's frightening.

I dare not say that I am ready to die for the thought of leaving those whom I love frightens me. But I know I would leave happy knowing I gave my all to love them and I did my best to live. I believe that would be the only achievement that matters.

It's not about being suicidal, definitely not. It's simply understanding the fact that one day it'll come. My question to you is: will you resist or will you not?