On my previous and obsolete journal entry, I was talking about finding an author to emulate; that will help me become more of a poet rather than a rhymester.

I was browsing at the library the other day when I saw this book by Jose Mo. Singson. Under the Eastern Sky: A Collection of Poems.

The poems found here gives a strong impression of what a modern day, Filipino poet should be. The poem I'm gonna share here, not that it's mine to share, suits my taste, and is the one that I identify with. I see myself working on this kinds of themes. I hope his talent, even just a bit, rubs on to me. Also, I don't think I'm gonna be writing half-asleep; though it had given me some modest success in the past. I don't want to accidentally plagiarize anything. No pressure.

Chance Rendezvous
By Jose Mo. Singson

I rode with her on a public bus. She sat
so quietly in front of me, her countenance so
petal-frail and calmly aglow like that of a
toddler dreaming of angels.

Her name of course, I would not know. For
how could I? By a hidden prank of some Fate un-
kind, she merely chanced to ride with me.

And there she sat in front of me, her plastic
bag of rainbow hues upon her lap, and her delicate
knees demurely peeping under exquisite frills of gossamer transparency.

I pried at her books and her lecture pads
in search of a name, and there was none. But
I did not care, for stolen glimpses at times
collided, assuring our hearts they could sing
a life song together

The silent exchange from breast to breast
could not have lasted beyond a moment or two
of silent yearning. For I had to alight at a
destined place.

I handed my fare to the conductor in
charge, and throwing a last stealthy glance at her
virginal face, I stepped on the road
with a leaden heart.

Now I know what God must feel like. Unappreciated. What I don't have is the patience to tolerate this shit. Therefore I've decided to have a go with reproduction. If I fail at that, then I must really suck.


quote of the day

An original is a creation motivated by desire. Any reproduction of an originals motivated be necessity. It is marvelous that we are the only species that creates gratuitous forms. To create is divine, to reproduce is human.
Man Ray


side note. sorry mau, and to the few few random people and spammers, for the unreplied notes and comments. My fickle mood does not help in keeping any online conversations.

I just found out that I was eligible for OJT this summer, that is if I'd pass my 4 majors

this semester. This new found pressure is killing me; 4 projects/requirements, 2 of which I'm the leader. When I was chosen to be leader for the 2, I made it clear that I am an irresponsible person; I am allergic to responsibility. My half-hearted protests didn't seem to matter to them; maybe, a part of me wanted to find out how it'd feel, responsibility. I'll say this to you: that part of me should be shot. I'm way behind my org chem (an F on midterm), I've got a mediocre C for Philo - which I would've been acing, and I'm now dropping Math 2. Ok, you got me, the last one was my intention, I have no passion for math.

Not only that, but I think my competence is starting to betray me. In a sense that I'm getting into a lot of trouble, responsibility, lately. My I/O group project looks at the elected leader as but a puppet leader, and me as the puppet master. It may sound cool, but
it's not; because in doing so, I've made myself the "go-to guy". Again, it may sound cool but it's just euphemism for responsibility. I think it was Charlie Manson who said, "I don't
fit in society and I am incompetent. I'm definitely incompetent. I'll say that, I'll say that. There's nothing wrong with being incompetent cause you don't have to do as much, if you're competent then you've got a lot to do", and now I'm beginning to believe what he's saying. Oh dear me, what would Hitler do if he knew my dealings with this kind of lot.

In a way, I'd say responsibility and my competence is killing me. It'd be too easy for me to blame all my problems on my newly acquired responsibility; it'd be to weird if I'd blame it
all on the Media. I once read on a book, Master Student, that the first step in responsibility, is to blame it all on me; or to be exact, I created it all. Irrational, I know, but the author made sense (If you want to know what it means, I recommend you read the
book).

My body's experiencing withdrawal symptoms from all this responsibility, my once forsaken study habits threaten to comeback, my journals are starting to make sense, then to top it
all off I'm becoming the responsible one - evident when I made myself the third party judge, who would've guessed that my objective and detached personality can be counselor material.
And this happened to me twice! I tried reasoning to myself that I may be just showing off, no big deal. But at the back of mind, Daddy long-neck (my other alter ego) tells me, "even dongkhae knows you're lying". Someday I'll prove Daddy long-neck wrong. And you know I will go out of my way, to prove that I'm an arseh---, and someday I'm gonna wear a crown, even if it's idiot for the day.


On a lighter note, instead of me prematurely ending this journal with the usual quote of the days, I'd like to impart to you, beloved reader, my plans for my mice maze Psych project-Learning.

I. Objective

Normally, when a mice is presented/placed in a maze, their first impulse is to follow the scent of the food, using the fastest route possible. My objective, therefore, is to train the mice (either Lestat & Louis; I know they're not names for 2 female rats, f*ck off! Ah, but I digress, really) into taking the longest path possible. And to make it challenging , on my part, I'll construct/design a maze that has an obvious shortcut. Somewhat like this, but without the rat gnawing its way through the maze:

[link]

II. Time frame

As long as it takes

III. Materials

illustration board for the maze

IV. Procedures, strategies and activities.

1. Beg them to cooperate

2. Try bargaining obedience for food

3. Reason with them, appeal to their better nature/higher intellect

4. Threaten them, violence is an option here, a bit of blood spilt here and there is in order

5. Separate them, Lestat and Louis, take Louis hostage, then blackmail Lestat.

6. If the other sill won't cooperate, cut the tail off Louis; let Lestat know that you ain't joking around.

7. Give Lestat a birthday present. You ask it's not his birthday, well that's not the point. The point is to give Lestat a birthday present ... the head of Louis.

8. ... Torture

9. If Lestat still won't cooperate, you can always put a bullet in its head. Then plead mercy from Ma'am Jho to take pity on your sad fate. Provided, of course, that you didn't use a gun ... cause no one would take pity on what you did, you sick sick person.

Well, that's all for today. Any similarity to any person, whether living, dead, or dying is intentional. If you really believe all that's been written above, then f--k off! I'm an arseho---, and I approve of this message.

note to self: Go to a shrink, then ask Why do you always have to act like a crazy person and why do you have to refer to yourself in the third person whenever you write something.
... if the shrink tells you that maybe you truly are crazy, pay him. It was worth the laugh.
... if the shrink tells you that there's nothing wrong with you, pay him. It's your obligation dum², plus it was worth the laugh.

note to those who didn't get it: try searching tongue in cheek humor. I know some where a bit out of taste, I'll try harder next time. Until then, bye.

*title is from Stephen Colbert

quote of the day:

Valentines only apply to already paired couples. For those who are not, then it's just another Saturday. - House

I love you and I leave you free. First I feel that I cannot live without you, and so in the name of my love I want to grab you, to hold you, to make sure that you will never leave me, will always be close to me. But when doing that, I realize that I am ruining our love, and that trying to make sure of holding you is the best way to lose you. And so in the risk that is love, in supreme trust and sublime sacrifice, I leave you entirely free to remain or to go, to speak or to be silent, to look at me or to forget me. That is the ultimate insecurity, and in that insecurity, known and accepted, dreaded and enjoyed, is the test, the worth, the flowering of love in all its beauty and strength. I cannot be without you, and therefore I have to let you be you, that is, to be free in the hope and the risk that in your freedom you will find yourself and my love in you, and you will stay with me of your own free will and in your genuine pleasure. To let go is the paradoxical way, and the only true way, to possess in love.

Let Go of Fear . The Urge to Maximize Pleasure – Carlos G. Valles

Quote of the Day:

"life has so much pain that one needs a catharsis. I don't mean escape. you don't escape in books. On the contrary, they help you to realize yourself more fully. Mon Dieu, I'm glad I have them. When I find myself in a situation in which I'd rather not be - because of the peculiar circumstances of my life - I have this outlet. You may think me tres superieure but I'm not really, I just am what I am and live the way I like."
- Victoria Antoinette Sharleau / Sybil Isabelle Dorsett

The dreams started pouring in after school started, about a week later, after I’ve settled in my new apartment. These dreams varied, but had a main theme. Stairs. These dreams did not visit me on a nightly (straight) basis, for I have a very fickle sleeping routine. Oddly enough, it seems that the dreams don’t visit me whenever I have 7-8 hours of sleep, but of 5-6. And the oddest part is, the dreams only coincide when I’m sleeping in a state of euphoria or depression, which happens a lot.

I’d be climbing up the stairs, sometimes, I’d be overextending with double steps; or I’d be taking precious time with single stepping; or I’d be leaping for three. Respectively, I’d be feeling anxious, leisurely jolly or be just ‘leaping and striding for my life’.

The place was eerily similar of the SS building, where most of my classes are held. It’d be filled with a throng of students, with blurred faces. Sometimes I’d be apathetic and wouldn’t even bother to care and notice. Sometimes I’d be too shy and avert my eyes (even though no one is looking at the first place), for their very presence makes me feel like all eyes are on me. And sometimes, I’d be in a jocular/good/brave mood, that I’d be strangely curious and pay attention to their faces, and the way their body moves (what their body language is screaming).

On some occasions, I’d be alone with no one in sight. Only I, the sound of my shoes, and my breathing keep me company. Solitude. Sometimes I’d feel the freeing sensation of being alone at my home in Malaybalay. And in rare instances, I’d be stopping in mid-stride, just mulling over mixed feelings of loneliness.

As fickle as a dream could be, some episodes would show brief glimpses of a girl, enlivens my dreams. Though all I could see distinctly was her plaid skirt, this was enough to pique my interests, for it felt new to my senses. There’d be times, where I’d be chasing her surreptitiously, dodging people whilst blending with the crowd. And there’d be times where the interests seem to completely burn out, and I’d give no time in hell for her.

All of these dreams would end, with me … just staring at the empty corridor of the 5th floor on the SS building. Feelings are drained, nothing matters anymore, and the girl would entirely be forgotten. Just I, staring at the empty corridor, waiting to be awaken.

Interpretation

I think my dreams were symbols for my daily routine. My earlier dreams where a reflection of my fickle routine (paradox, I know), whereas the girls timing and manifestation represents my desire for variety to spice-up my routine.

The ending seems a bit dark, and a bit cliché. But I do think that it’s my eccentricity of pursuing trivial things, for the sake of variety, and then be forgetting and be indifferent about it, not worrying at all.

The stairs … I think I’ve climbed that stairs, so many times now that It could warrant to be my scene of my dream. The stairs seems to be a condensed version of my view on my life, always a routine … I may climb it in different ways, but still, it’s just a stairs, so to speak.

Incidentally, for the text book (pedantic) dream analysis, stairs means sex. Just so you know.


quote for the day

“When I'm not in my right mind, my left mind gets pretty crowded” - Stephen Wright