http://search.deviantart.com/?q=by:DreamPen&section=today deviantART RSS for by:DreamPen en-us Copyright 2009, deviantART.com Fri, 18 Dec 2009 04:59:13 PST deviantART.com http://blogs.law.harvard.edu/tech/rss http://s.deviantart.com/minish/widgets/apple-touch-icon-precomposed.png http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/24883507/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/24883507/ Fri, 22 May 2009 00:24:19 PDT
Heck, I can't even get myself to finish reading those books I got stacked around my bed and TV!

]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/8955367/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/8955367/ Sat, 03 Jun 2006 00:41:07 PDT ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/7627620/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/7627620/ Tue, 17 Jan 2006 07:43:04 PST
I need to write.

I need to write.

I need to write.

I need to write.

I need to write.

I need to write.

I need to write.

I need to write.

I need to write.

I need to write.

I need to write.

I need to write.

I need to write.

I need to write.

I need to write.

I need to write.

I need to write. ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/7531628/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/7531628/ Fri, 06 Jan 2006 23:56:32 PST LONG time.

I feel both sad and guilty. ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/5892307/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/5892307/ Sun, 10 Jul 2005 05:42:57 PDT
I clung to the fragile hope of meeting him despite a massive line and a super-exhausted Neil.

He was just so nice he decided to go on and on.

I blew out my savings just to buy the books of his I didn't have but wanted to read plus some books on Filipino myths and legends to give to him as a gift.

Mabuhay ka, Neil!

Will write more when I'm rested. God bless and take care, Mr. Gaiman. ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/4984338/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/4984338/ Sun, 03 Apr 2005 00:20:40 PST
But please give me some space and time.

Mom, please unchain me and let me go my way.

Dad, please don't worry. Understand that I never once thought of undermining your and Lolo and Lola's achievements and sacrifices.

But between you two, please have a little more faith in me.

Give me room to breathe, let me be free. I desire my independence. And the sad fact is, no matter what I do or how well I perform, I will never earn my liberty in your eyes.

Please let me go.

Please leave me alone. ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/4707123/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/4707123/ Tue, 01 Mar 2005 22:42:19 PST
My money is slowly running out. While I'm now carefully watching how much I'm spending, I know it's not going to last for long. An appointment with my shrink looms one week from now, while my cell phone bill has just arrived. I can actually afford to pay both, but they're going drain a lot out of me.

Just three weeks ago, I managed to sell one of my card game decks to a friend who works in one of the gaming stores I frequent, making quite a tidy sum. Sadly, the money didn't last very long, but it did delay what is now becoming more and more inevitable.

Inspired by that experience, as well as the discovery that the Philippines now has its own EBay site, I've decided to sell my old comics and my Magic: The Gathering cards.

Looking back, both have been the source of many fond, fond memories, recollections of childhood and dreaming about wonderful and epic adventures.

But the funny thing is that I've few or even no real attachements to my comics and cards, despite that now. In fact, the idea of selling them was practically a welcome one, as it could potentially give me money and allow me to clear out stuff from my house and make more room for other things.

Is this a sign of me finally growing up?

Well, my time with Magic is over...

As for comics, what stopped me from collecting and reading them a long time ago was the inanity of how story continuity and believeability was maintained in them. My tastes have since changed and grown more stringent. Comic book series, in my experience, usually go way out there in terms of storyline and concept. And yet, they rarely offer something deep, insightful, wonderful, or intelligent.

I guess my decision to sell them is also because I've come to despise the "collectibility" aspect of comics, promising its readers rewards in the future based on its rarity, age and value. (Pure bullshit. Going through current trading prices, I'll be lucky if I can even recoup what I spent on the comics in the first place!)

It's also because I hate how comic books can only occupy you for 30 minutes at most. For the same price, or maybe at least 3 times that much, I can get a book which will occupy me at least for a day, or maybe a week, or two weeks.

Now, don't get me wrong. I don't hate all comics or comics per so. In my bookshelf you will find two Blacksad books, Volume 6 of the Collected Omaha the Cat Dancer, DC Comics' Kingdom Come trade paperback, Wildstorm Studios' Danger Girl TPB, Arnold Arre's After Eden graphic novel, Marvel's Spider Girl TPB and a few individual issues of that series focusing on specific events in her life. What makes these gems different from the crap I used to collect is the continuity, consistency and quality of the writing and/or (usually and) art they have as compared to the stupid cliches, overdone violence and gore, and outright bizarreness of the comics I used to collect.

OK, now that the topic's raised, yes, I guess I still do collect comics. But even that has been mightily tempered by experience and taste. I now collect simple one-shots with a focused storyline capable of standing on its own, even if the book is part of a larger series; eg. trade paperbacks and graphic novels. No more hassles of collecting or keeping up with the latest developments and issues. No more extremely out-of-this world continuities that just get more and more convoluted with each issue, month, year, etc. that passes.

Damn, I am growing up.

On one hand, I'm finally letting go of my "things of youth". On the other, I'm only taking and keeping the things that really matter.

Yep.

BTW, please forgive me for the bitter tone with which I speak.

So, I now find myself trying to appraise my own wares (the covers of my comics are all slightly worn thanks to me being more a reader than collector), while finding potential customers. My comics, based on the current and latest prices, just aren't worth much, but hopefully I can get back what I spent.

As for my cards, the good news, it seems, is that I've got a lot of stuff that potentially will be easy to sell and may promise a nice return as well.

Having let Magic go, I now keep finding stuff which I know is in demand, and with the popularity of old cards becoming stronger and stronger, I know I stand a good chance of selling many of my cards. Had I chosen to cling on longer to my Magic, no doubt I'd have less wanted cards to sell. But my time there is over.

My dad has this thing of throwi... ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/4650581/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/4650581/ Wed, 23 Feb 2005 03:09:54 PST
24.

Jobless.

Without even a ghost of a career.

Crashed and burned in and out of love 4 times.

Never had a girlfriend.

Feeling estranged from my parents and family.

Running out of money.

Without inspiration to produce art.

Lonely, and missing all my old friends.

Jaded.

Lost.

Disappointed with myself.

I can only pray that God have pity and help my meager efforts to get my life going this year... ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/4602646/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/4602646/ Wed, 16 Feb 2005 22:09:59 PST
I'm almost 24 (coming next Wednesday)...

... and the other day, I found myself hunting for a particular Matchbox® toy helicopter.

I have a thing for Matchbox helicopters.

As a kid, I loved toys. My favorites were Lego® and the Transformers™. I spent countless hours converting robots into machines and back, or building tanks, spaceships, castles and the like. They captured and fired my imagination, and helped shape it as I grew up.

But I grew up long ago, or at least went into pursuits only older kids could really appreciate. While only made up of cards or pixels, CCG's and PC games provided deep, structured and interactive gameplay that mere toys couldn't.

However, once in awhile, I'd find myself wandering toy stores when I had nothing to do, and looking up their collection of Matchbox cars.

Even prior to Lego and the Transformers, long ago in my youth, I remember seeing this ultra cool-looking Matchbox helicopter. It had a big, box-shaped, clear plastic cockpit. Its rotor blades were folded together, and Matchbox included the pretty cool design feature of making its tail retractable (more to fit the box than anything else, I suppose, but it was pretty cool). It looked like the Blue Thunder helicopter of movie fame, though the toy wasn't necessarily a military vehicle.

I really liked and wanted that toy. I knew it was a helicopter, and I loved helicopters as a kid (I still do, in truth, and I still would very much welcome the chance to actually learn to fly them should it come my way). But that was before I even understood money or the concept of buying and selling.

All throughout my life, from then on, I'd be nostalgically (and quite pleasantly) haunted by that Matchbox helicopter. It became a dream, a simple image and remembrance of my childhood.

I got into Lego and Transformers, got out of it, got into CCG's, hobby gaming, comics, PC gaming (I once bought a game called SIM Copter™ by Maxis™, the same people behind the SIM City™ and the SIMs™ line of PC games) fantasy and science fiction. I graduated from grade school, high school and college. I'm now almost 24, after almost three years of working in the real world.

And that helicopter, whether parked with its blades folded and tail retracted, or flying free with its blades open and tail stretched, would coast through my mind both every once awhile and all throughout my life.

Hence, my occional search for that toy these past almost twenty years.

Looking back, I think did manage to catch that helicopter for sale at certain points in my life. But something would just not allow me to buy it. Lack of funds, lack of time, more important things to do... The twists and turns of Life.

And a year or two back, I lost sight of that particular helicopter forever. Apparently, Matchbox just wasn't making them anymore.

I'd look around the latest Matchbox helicopters and while they all showed certain similarities (folding blades, retractable tail), it just wasn't the same. One time, the only Matchbox helicopter I could find was the powerlifter/cargo hauler type, with a big open space behind its cockpit and beneath its engine, with a toy line and hook for lifting up cargo. Cool, but I didn't like it. I forgot about my dream copter once more, once again thwarted.

I did buy a Matchbox jet with foldable, glow-in-the-dark wings and a glow-in-the-dark communications dish a year or two back, and it was pretty cool (I like jets, too). But it wasn't my helicopter. I just like helicopters more.

But last Tuesday, on a whim, I dropped by a toy store and checked out their Matchbox toys. I did see a similarly designed helicopter, but it had Police colors and design (I don't have anything against the Police, but I just didn't like it).

However, looking at the back of the box, something caught my eye: a black-and-white picture of a helicopter with the caption "Buzz Copter™".

It just wasn't the same as my dream helicopter, but there was something about it...

I started searching through their stocks of Matchbox toys and even asked an attendant to help me, but we couldn't find it among their wares.

And along the way, while attending to my chores, I looked through two other toy stores and failed to find it.

It was later that afternoon, once my errands were done, that I visited another mall, went into a toy store there and found the Buzz Copter among their wares.

The funny thing about finding it was the discovery that it actually looked like an insect. It belonged to Matchbox's Hero City™ series, which features vehicle... ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/4233813/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/4233813/ Mon, 03 Jan 2005 22:45:08 PST Magic: the Gathering around 1995 and got into Legend of the Five Rings a short time later. While I never really got to roleplay, I collected the books of the Werewolf: the Apocalypse RPG line, if just because I loved werewolves and it was great reading material.

In the last two years, directly after graduating from college, I got into Mage Knight, a collectible miniature wargame. You'll find most of my sketches here in DA are my designs for figure ideas for that game proposed by myself and other players. I'd long sold away my Werewolf books, had not even gotten deeper in L5R, and had put my Magic into storage. MK was a new hobby, a new beginning for me.

For one thing, it represented something I'd been looking for for a long time: an affordable wargame. The affordable is explained below. As for the "war" in wargame, I've always been a strategy and tactics nut, though with a sci-fi and fantasy bend- and rather than playing with card-based abstractions and representations, I was playing with something closer to realistic, move-and-fight combat.

I'd tried getting into the Warhammer and Warhammer 40,000 wargames, but it proved too expensive for me. In addition, I just couldn't paint to save my life (the figures of WH/WH40K came unpainted; MK's came already painted). I have to admit that if there's anything wonderful about the WH/WH40K universes, it was the richness, vastness and history of its universe. In the end, it got the same treatment as my Werewolf RPG: never played, but incredible reading material.

My career as a MK warlord (player, specifically, since the term "warlord" in MK also refers to tournament officials and rules judges), was more down than up, but I do have at least two tournament Championships under my belt. I was the undisputed king of the "No Cavalry, All Melee" tournament format, won twice in a row. OK, it's not really that impressive when you think about it; as my friend, the owner of the hobby gaming store where we had our tournaments, once said: "You excel as long as there are no horses (or mounted units) and no one's shooting at you." But hey, I got to the top in that format at least twice, using my signature special ability: Venom, or a special rule that allowed me to poison my opponents.

On the other hand, I had a ton of utterly crushing defeats as well. I'm reminded of my supposedly invincible, fool-proof battle plan that was eventually disassemble by all opponents who faced in that one tournament I brought it in. That really hurt, watching my supposedly undefeatable formation and choice of warriors being easily attacked and destroyed by each and every opponent (even novice players) who faced it.

However, win or lose, no matter how triumphant the victory or (more understably) how trivial the defeat, both had one thing in common: once the day was done, going home, I'd find myself discontent, bitter, somewhat depressed and feeling like I was missing out what was important in my life. I was looking for something, I wasn't happy, and MK wasn't it.

Now that was understandable if I was coming home with an all-loss tournament record. But it even happened after I did well or even won. Somehow, even though I came home Champion (and, later, undisputed Champion of my format), I felt like... that was it? That was all?

It long occurred to me that perhaps I was asking too much from MK than it could give me. I guess I really wanted to grow up- I did feel like I was missing out on what was normal, more meaningful and more important in life. I'd fallen in love already (then) twice, but had never had any real relationships with any woman. I was working for my mom. And for that matter, most of my fellow gamers had their girlfriends already, so I was missing out on what even my fellow geeks already had.

Maybe it was because I had issues with how MK's rules could easily abused by crafty players, allowing them to do unfair and even illogical tactics in playing. Gaming loopholes.

I managed to get away from those game abuses by moving to a sister game of MK (MK Dungeons, a D&D tactical hack & slash version of MK) which had a more structured rule system. And it was greatly more tactical than its parent game, since it extremely limited and controlled the gaming environment.

It was fun.

You know what? I was still feeling dissatisfied coming home each Saturday night.

After a few months of playing MK, I got back into Magic, since a few of our MK players were trying it out and the game was bringing back a group of creatures they'd created before that I loved. I also had issues with that gam... ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/4142057/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/4142057/ Fri, 24 Dec 2004 03:06:41 PST Have a MERRY CHRISTMAS & HAPPY NEW YEAR, everyone! ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/4107648/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/4107648/ Mon, 20 Dec 2004 02:00:24 PST
I finally went back to my shrink. Overwhelmed by the madness afflicting me (it'd been there all this time, and had become really intense and unbearable this past year), I decided to seek therapy again.

I have been diagnosed with OCD. O bsessive Compulsive Disorder. I will not name the exact nature of my obsession (my case is more O than C); it is something I'd rather keep to myself. Suffice to say, it was already beginning to interfere with my daily functions. My shrink (a good woman and doctor), had long suspected that my problem was OCD rather than what I thought it was, and suggested in my prior session that I begin medicine-assisted therapy (anti-depressants). After nine months of struggling to defeat it on my own without any success, I finally gave in to both the madness and her solution.

The good news: drug therapy is not as bad as you think. I only have to take a single mild dose of the stuff each day, and I'm not suffering any side effects. Furthermore, it's proven quite effective. It's now so much easier for my mind to snap out of the horrible loop my disorder has been trapping me in for so long.

The clarity afforded to my mind is wonderful, even if the problem remains. I can think straight and without fear once more.

The real comfort of being diagnosed with OCD is this: I now know exactly what was afflicting me. I guess I realize it wasn't as bad as I thought. And even if my obsession/fears does have some validity, I now am more ready to accept and live with it.

I'm beginning to live again. I'm understanding myself more and more, remembering lessons I'd forgotten, and learning new things.

This is really important for me, because it's finally allowing me to the courage and strength of mind to face my fears, issues and real emotional burdens.

I'm finally confronting my family on the how they made me feel when I chose not to go to Law School and when they compelled me to go almost three years ago. I'm finally letting all my resentments and pain go. I'm letting it out. I confronted my mom, my dad, my elders, some of my close cousins (some more to go) about it. It's out. It's over.

I feel great.

Things aren't perfect. My obsession and psychological burdens remain. I still don't have a girlfriend or a job.

But I'm finally moving on.

As a footnote, my folks bought me a Gameboy Advance and two games I really, really wanted to play: Advance Wars 2 and Final Fantasy Tactics. Way cool.

Christmas is coming. I love this time of the year, when there's slightly more darkness during the daytime and when the air becomes cool and refreshing. The only thing I hate about the holidays is the noise of firecrackers being detonated all throughout the day (firecrackers for the Holidays and New Year are a big thing here in the Phil).

The darkness I'd been walking in for a year has finally begun to break. The path I walk in Life remains long, and I've a lot of catching up to do, but I'm finally on my way. ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/3914569/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/3914569/ Thu, 25 Nov 2004 06:09:24 PST Freed. I was unhappy. I quit my job. Just 1 month into it. Still in training. I can't work nights. Too much of a sacrifice. Damn body clock adjustment to the graveyard shift. Hate being awake 4-5 AM Sundays (work ends for the week 7 AM Saturdays). Hard staying awake for Sunday lunches with family and Sunday afternoons with friends. Co-worker and some family say I deserve better.

Goodbye. Let go of my latest and last crush, Dian. She belonged to someone else. She was happy with him. Have been together for 2 years already. Also, I was leaving my job. We were no longer co-workers. She said she hated breaking guys' hearts. (Apparently not the first time someone fell in love with her though she was with someone else.) It didn't feel like my heart was breaking letting go. Felt like hers was with the guilt. But now, maybe my heart is breaking a bit. We never really let go of anyone we fall in love with. They will always be with us in our hearts.

Fear. Psychological problems getting worse. Don't know who I am anymore. Don't trust myself. Don't know what to make of anything. Don't know what to do. Moments of clarity and hope alternate with periods of fear, darkness and depression. Must see shrink. Must clear this up now. If not now, then when? Never? Madness is a spiral descent.

Despondence. Uncertain future. Jobless again. Getting older. What about my career? Don't know what I want. Don't know what I can do. Don't know where to go. Need cash. Must survive. ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/3761926/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/3761926/ Fri, 05 Nov 2004 16:09:29 PST
Falling in love
The 4th time around
May not be
As exciting
Or as wild
As the 1st
But, calmer,
It's deeper,
Just as sweet
And just as wonderful.

I can't have you
Because you belong
To somone else
But I love you
All the same. ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/3699730/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/3699730/ Fri, 29 Oct 2004 07:13:23 PDT
God please help me. ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/3684489/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/3684489/ Wed, 27 Oct 2004 07:02:34 PDT
Whoever he is, I hope he chokes on my wallet.

He took the last of my money. Now I'm really broke.

Managed to get my ATM and credit card cancelled immediately after, though...

Still, I lost my driver's license, video game arcade powercard, stored value train ticket, and two US quarters (they came with the wallet for luck).

What a damn inconvenience... ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/3616143/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/3616143/ Mon, 18 Oct 2004 04:40:11 PDT
Somehow, I am less than happy.

First of all, being in a new environment and meeting so many new and different people is... so bewildering.

I'm a shy guy with issues (lots of them currently broiling my mind), suddenly out in the Real World after having lived what was now apparently a very sheltered life. Everything is new to me (quite unpleasantly, thanks to how intimidating it all is), everything troubles me, and I wonder how long I'm going to survive my new job. I shan't name it or give its nature: just know that it's the single bright spot in the Philippine economy and that it's not as easy as it looks or sounds.

And I find myself facing my psychological and emotional weaknesses and fears. And each day that passes, I find myself more and more overwhelmed.

I fully intend to do as best as I can in this new job. I'll perform professionally, properly and dutifully my tasks and responsibilities. I'll turn myself into an asset for my company. I'll make them proud.

But I wonder deep inside of myself how long I'll be able to go on. The Madness and Darkness that gnaws (gnaws? FEASTS!) on my psyche is growing too great for me to bear.

I thought that once I'd get a job, so many things in my life would become easier. I thought that it would automatically fix many of my problems... or at least provide an easily reached solution and resolution to them.

How naive was I to rest on such optimism.

I don't know what tomorrow will bring. ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/3548053/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/3548053/ Sat, 09 Oct 2004 07:50:44 PDT
Trust me, Hell isn't other people.

Hell is being locked in a room with yourself.

And since I take after my mom so much... ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/3530301/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/3530301/ Wed, 06 Oct 2004 20:44:47 PDT
My struggle for independence and a chance to prove myself have never really been malicious on either side. Maybe I've been a jerk at times, and maybe they've all been working under misconceptions of my character, but in the end all and be all, I'm just trying to find my way and they're just trying to help me. What went wrong was a clash of opinions.

Life is not dramatic. It's rarely Good versus Evil, Right versus Wrong in this world. It's tragically Good versus Good, Right versus Right- Gray versus Gray- in this fallen place.

While I've come into conflict with my immediate family many times in my life in both trivial and serious matters, both intensely or pettily, I have to admit (and be glad) that it's still a pretty darned-good family. We're all strong-willed and uncompromising (apparently a hereditary trait), and it shows: my father, whose peace of mind is sacred and should never be disturbed; my mother, possessing a fierce and honest pride; my brother, a gruff stickler for politeness, propriety and etiquette (in Dungeons and Dragons terms, I figure him to be Lawful Good at his noblest or Lawful Neutral as most likely); me, the misunderstood artist fighting for his independence; my sister, the unrelenting and bull-headed princess of the family (now, she's either Neutral or Chaotic Evil!).

Getting along in my famliy was always more of not getting in anyone's way. My parents pretty much give us all we need and perhaps all we want (however bad that sounds). My brother is a very responsible and professional person (spitting image of our businessman dad). My sister, however spoiled, selfish and inconsiderate she may act, has strict work values that are reflected in her studies. As for me, I just try to do what's right.

If there ever have been happier and warmer times with us being together, they are rare. But they do exist.

If there is one thing, just one thing, that I am so, so, so glad for, it's that I've never seen my parents fight. Disagree: sure. Snipe at each other: maybe.

Argue or fight: never.

For all its lackluster in the eyes of their child, my parents have a model marriage.

They're both dour, somber, gruff, proud, practical, pragmatic, fierce people.

They were made for each other. Soul mates.

My uncles (mother's brother) said it best: my parents are two peas in a pod.

What was to screw up the perfect picture of their marriage (or family) was their kids (mischieveous grin).

Mom, Dad, Happy Anniversary. ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/3492258/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/3492258/ Sun, 03 Oct 2004 07:53:15 PDT
...

The very first trip I took over one week ago, after spending time at the local hobby gaming store, I then returned to the Ayala MRT station. I wasn't feeling well- my cold was taking a turn for the worse, while my left nostril bad begun to bleed (as a kid, I was a rampant nose-bleeder, and sometimes I still am). The worst part was, while waiting for the train to pull in the station, standing behind the crowd waiting to get on, a drop of blood slid down my nostril and rested right over my lip; I could feel the slick trail resting between my nose and mouth as I desperately tried to keep the blood in my nose as I raced to get my handkerchief.

Then the woman in front of me turned and saw me bleeding.

She didn't raise a fuss or do anything, but I was feeling really exposed then and there. To make matters worse, I really thought I was coming down with something- I was not well.

I'd spent too much time at the hobby store, and it was now evening. The MRT was simply crowded with commuters and the people in the train really looked like sardines packed in a glass and steel can. I'd neglected one more errand: to get my sunglasses fixed (I'd sat on it- again), and the store where it was to be done was in a mall exactly between the Ayala station and home, but it would still entail some long walks: getting down the station, going into the mall, going to the right floor, getting it fixed, going to the next station, then going home.

I bit the bullet. I decided to get it all done that night. I struggled to control the bleeding while fighting on against my cold.

On the way, I bought another Jamaican meat pie (they had a branch in that mall as well). I figured the snack would give me a little bit more strength to go on with my almost neglected tasks.

It did. I got my shades fixed finally after so long being bent and made my way home.

...

The second trip, after dropping by the Chapel, I went home, somewhat burdened but able to move on.

...

The third trip, I decided to fix my mistake and irresponsibility. I confronted the front desk and guards, confessed my duplicity, explained I was just dropping off my resumé in hopes of working at the Ayala Museum.

And they didn't get mad at me or admonish me. They just simply said they didn't accept resumés there because the Museum had no HR department of its own and was just a part of the Ayala Foundation. They directed me to the Foundation's office, but it was already done. I did it during the 2nd trip already.

At this point, I can only say: Honesty really is the best policy. It just makes Life so much easier to handle. No matter how cliché or moralistic it is, it's just so good to be honest and sincere. And if it demands that you swallow your Pride, do so- I read somewhere that Pride isn't fattening and, trust me, it isn't.

I went on with my business. Walked all the way again to the Post Office, dropped off some mail (I'll explain in another Journal entry) and returned to the mall. I first dropped by the Church, prayed my rosaries, had Confession. I then dropped by the hobby gaming shop to pick up some gaming supplies, decided to relax a bit in the local arcade and played my favorite arcade machine, Silent Scope 2, then went home when my money ran out.

...

One of the things that has long intrigued me going around Metro Manila was the sight of street vendors offering to buy old printer cartridges from you. And while I'd encountered that creature only along EdSa, I found a whole slew of them spread out all along Ayala Avenue.

I was running out of cash and I figured I'd try selling our old, used and empty printer ink cartridges. I asked my mom for permission to sell the stuff and if I could keep the cash: she allowed it.

I could've done it during my third trip, but got lazy and forgot about it, so I did it during my fourth trip. I dug out as many of the stuff I could find the night before, and packed them all in a cardboard bag the next day.

I will confess that I have a rather paranoid personality. I honestly didn't know what the deal was with these vendors, why they were buying the stuff. I even looked it up on the 'Net, looking for some sort of indication it was all a scam. The whole time I approached Ayala I was worried I'd be robbed after selling some of my own cartridges.

I finally got the courage to approach one of them, and he looked through my stuff. There were immediate rejections: the smaller refill cartridges they couldn't use. The main stuff they could was alr... ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/3470995/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/3470995/ Wed, 29 Sep 2004 06:00:09 PDT Current Music: "Urban Wanderer" by The Rippingtons featuring Russ Freeman

(If only DA Journals had this feature like in LiveJournal...)

Until recently, I have only known the Megalopolis that is Metro Manila through the windows of the family car. Never have I really before known what it was like to be a pedestrian in the city I live in- I have previously only been pedestrian in places other than Metro Manila, even foreign places- but never to my home.

I can't deny that, as a self-confessed geek and homebody, I have lived a sheltered life and never really been out on my own. I have done everything through the permission of my parents and with their knowledge, travelling with them by car, even when I'd finally learned how to drive.

But, growing up, I find myself more and more on my own, without need of parental control or consent. After all, my parents and I have been driving each other crazy on such matters- and both they and I realize it's time for me to move on.

If there's one thing I am extremely grateful to the Philippine government for, it's the construction of the MRT or Metro Rail Transit, the commuter train that runs on Epifano delos Santos Avenue (EdSA, site of the 1986 People Power Revolution) from the extreme Northern end of the avenue in Quezon City (the largest city-district of Metro Manila) to its terminus at the South in Manila/Pasay (the original city from which grew Metro Manila). The MRT has provided me with the freedom to go around without having to ride with other members of my family.

Perhaps because I don't need to ride with others anymore through the MRT that I have gained much of the independence I enjoy now, rather than the other way around.

In my early twenties and even finding myself being trusted to drive a car on my own, going on foot to explore the city remains a special experience for me. Maybe I'm just lazy and don't like the hassle that comes with using a car to go around (nevermind that walking can be tiring- I need the exercise- and isn't as fast). Maybe it's my grandfather's genes in me, as he was a great pedestrian and more that than a driver in his day.

Or maybe there's just something... magical about seeing the city from the very personal point of view of someone out on his own, not constrained in a metal box and moving in ways beyond the wishes of the person but with all the freedom that comes with the motive force of human flesh and volition.

...

Today was my second trip on foot through the heart of Manila's financial district, Makati. I was running errands. And last week, the 1st journey on foot through there, I was doing the same thing.

I got off the MRT at the Ayala station. From there, it was a trek through 3 adjoining malls (Glorietta, Landmark, Greenbelt) to my 1st destination: the Ayala Museum, to drop off my resumé. Unfortunately, since my resumé's envelope was only generally addressed to the museum, the guards and front desk refused to accept it.

I have to admit that was my fault. Worried that they wouldn't take it if they knew it was merely a resumé, I'd delivered on the pretense that it was merely mail, pretending to be merely a messenger.

The self-treachery that is deceit to others. I deserved that.

I got away with the excuse that I'd come back with a more specific addressee. But whether or not I will, I do not know.

I moved on. I then proceeded to the Ayala Foundation's office at the BPI building. Learning from my previous experience, I now acted without trickery: I told the receptionist that I was just dropping off a resumé. They took it. I was off.

Nevertheless, I was walking with a cloud of gloom on my shoulders. I really needed a job and the rejection I suffered, however well deserved, depressed me.

What made this trip my second round walking up and down Ayala avenue was that I once again needed to go to the Makati Central Post Office, down Ayala avenue from the MRT station, past how many streets and blocks of towering business and commercial centers. My first time had me walking and exploring the pedestrian walkways and overpasses of the street parallel to Ayala (I don't know the name, but it's the street the Ayala Foundation is on, corner to Makati Avenue, and is at the back of the BPI and HSBC buildings). This second round, I decided to walk on the Ayala avenue side and see what it was like to pass by that great main throroughfare.

At the least, it was cleaner than walking through most parts of Manila. Makati, being richer than most of Metro Manila, kept its streets clean. But there were still signs of urban decay around. Older buildings, closed and no longer u... ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/3454984/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/3454984/ Sun, 26 Sep 2004 23:17:32 PDT
In the first part, I dreamt that my uncle was offering to buy my Euphonium.

What's a Euphonium? A mini-tuba. I learned to play it in my high school band. But I was never good at it, just enthusiastic. And I bugged my folks to get me one until they did. Mighty expensive. I played it until second year college, while part of the college military service band (until a couple of years back, all male college students had military training and drilling).

I haven't played it since.

A costly waste.

And so, in my dream, my uncles offered to sell it for me. I remember agreeing, to finally put it to rest and recoup our cash losses.

What happened next was too hazy for me to remember clearly. I think an argument between me and one of my parents ensued, regarding the cost and how much money we further lose in addition by selling it (given depreciation).

I then went into a mental loop. It lasted only a few moments, but was terrible in its burden. The thoughts of the cost and loss of money just kept going over and over, through and through my head. I felt like selling it at the agreed price was selling it without even getting back a fraction of its worth. The guilt of not playing it and just letting it and its worth in money waste away was simply overwhelming. Things just felt so horribly heavy.

The scene then changed. It wasn't like a movie where suddenly the background, location or situation changed. It was more like walking out of a room through a door, and where you walked was a totally different place than where you were supposed to be (the dream first seemed to have been set in my uncle's house). What was supposed to be concrete and wood was suddenly open grass plains and uneven hills flowing with the gentle afternoon wind.

This was the second part. I was suddenly with my mom and I was re-applying for Law school. My mom was very irritated, angry and bitter at me. After having fought my famiy and giving it grief over my not going to Law school, I was now giving in with shame and rather apologetically.

I found myself in a wide and open space surrounded by unpainted and incomplete cinder block walls. It was like an outdoor classroom: there were school desks arranged in rows. I was in front.

A man in a barong (male Filipino formal/business attire) came in and started giving out test papers and instructions. To me, he looked like one of the lawyer professors I saw the short time I was in Law school.

My mom was with me even when the test started. She was mad the whole time, reminding me of how disappointed she was with me and that I'd better not let this second chance go to waste.

I didn't even look at my test paper. I knew my only hope for a future lay in taking the test and going to Law school again and yet... something held me back. I didn't want to. I was afraid of defying my mother again, but I couldn't take the test. I couldn't betray myself again.

My mom was gone from the scene by that time. I stood up and left, going into a door in one of the walls in front of me, leading me to some indoor place. I knew I'd find my mom there and that I'd inevitably have to confront her. In my dream, I was running in my mind how that confrontation was taking place, in all its pain, bitterness and darkness.

I woke up.

...

Before going to sleep the night before, I kept thinking about my need for new employment. I was having such a hard time getting a job, since no one exactly looks for Philosophy majors for corporate or managerial positions around here.

I realize that my Euphonium, both in real life and in the world of dreams, has come to symbolize the waste, whimsy and irresponsibility I've shown my family, whether figuratively, truthfully (I have been thus), and as they perceived in me (both fair and unfair).

My re-taking the Law school entrace exam under my mother's duress was my despair in employment. All the friends that really mattered to me are all now in Law school or simply far and away, and I don't see them anymore. My college course, inapplicable for employment, was made for Law (I chose Philosophy as my pre-Law course, then only realized I didn't want to do Law in my senior year). I guess my... ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/3419920/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/3419920/ Wed, 22 Sep 2004 08:33:05 PDT
Someone please read my "Campfire Tales" short story... ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/3382660/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/3382660/ Fri, 17 Sep 2004 07:13:13 PDT

I'd just quit my job working for my mom, when my uncle (her brother) comes up to me and asks me if I could work for him for awhile.

He was going on vacation. He needed someone to run his flower shop, someone to just make sure things ran smoothly while he was out.

I was wary at first, given how sour my experiences were working for family (namely my mom). But I thought it'd be good to help my uncle. I agreed.

...

Minding a shop is one the most boring jobs in the world.

My duties were totally mundane and routine. All I had to do was make sure operations were going as scheduled and as needed.

Otherwise, you're left with absolutely nothing to do for hours on end.

...

The goods news is that it wasn't at all unpleasant.

After the hectic and rushed life I had working for my mom, it was very nice to slow down and watch the world (or people working in Makati) go by.

I got to catch up on my reading. I devoured Arabian Nights, enjoyed Around the World in 80 Days, and finally got through The Last Mohican (after two aborted attempts, BTW, but it was pretty good in the end).

A pity I didn't get much inspiration from working there, though. I was also hoping to catch up on my writing and art. Oh well.

...

Lastly, I committed what's considered a mortal sin in my family, and made a new friend:

A cat (my folks HATE cats).

She's dirty, old, and shedding.

But she's kind, gentle and very affectionate.

Friendship with an animal is always special.

...

My three weeks are up and my uncle arrives from his vacation tomorrow.

I'm going to have to look for real work now.

But it's been a good three weeks. ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/3276354/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/3276354/ Fri, 03 Sep 2004 08:28:15 PDT
More specifically, I have never in my life actually, really commuted the way the rest of my Filipino countrymen do:

by Jeepney.

My only real commuting experience has been the Metro Rail Transit. Squeezing desperately in a crowd of strangers praying to the high Heavens that there's still enough oxygen to go around- I'm actually quite used to that, almost comfortable with it. After one week of going to work that way (besides all the times I previously traveled via MRT but not on business), what can I say? I'm just not agoraphobic, claustrophobic or demophobic.

Anyway, the only other methods of getting around I use are 1) someone else's car, like my parents' or relatives or 2) my two feet.

But, I guess with my quitting of my job with my mom and my trying to move on with my life, my plans and moves towards independence is allowing me to experience all sorts of new things.

I needed a ride to the MRT station (too long a walk), but the company van/utility vehicle was out on deliveries (I usually hitch a ride on it when everyone goes home after we close the business down for the night) and wouldn't be back until hours later. The heavy traffic in the city (Friday night- everyone was going home or out) simply compounded this.

With no alternative, I found myself asking advice on how to take the Jeepney for the first time and walking towards the pick-up point of the said public transport.

I can't say I wasn't anxious or bewildered. It was all so new to me. I was still trying to figure out and identify which jeepney plied which route and went where.

But I found the right one, hopped aboard, paid my fare, and soon found myself at the MRT station.

A small, trivial, mundane adventure- which I'll treasure for the simple fact that it marks my way out in the Real World on my own.

In other news, before that today, I also traveled blocks and blocks, over a national highway via an MRT overpass (a real stair-climbing workout) under the sweltering sun just to get to the post office near my house after being served a postal notice. I kept thinking on the way that it was to pick up a letter of mine that I sent weeks before but was now being returned to me (quite an inconvenience; also, if so, couldn't they just return it to me at my house?). I arrived right after 12 o' clock, so I had to wait more than 30 minutes for the post office to reopen from Lunch Break.

The good news was that it wasn't a returned envelope but registered mail containing a CCG card I'd been waiting for 2 weeks now. So, the only unpleasant part left for the errand was my return home the way I came: blocks and blocks of walking, under the sun and over EdSA via the MRT's 3rd (or 4th? or 5th?) story overpass.

Whatta day. Welcome to the Real World. Now, I know the Real World isn't usually pleasant, but I gotta admit it was rather kind in welcoming me. ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/3244929/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/3244929/ Mon, 30 Aug 2004 06:14:09 PDT
Yes, it was.

I no longer work for my mom.

...

I finally did it. I quit working for my mom.

For all the heartaches, pains and sacrifices we both endured with, through and thanks to each other, I finally went through with my plans to leave and to find myself.

To stay would be to have my mother and I tear each other apart. Two strong-willed, opinionated, judgemental, independent and sensitive souls locked together for hours each day in the same office- it's just not a good idea. Egos and emotions will inevitably rub each other the wrong way.

I once read that Hell is being locked in room with yourself.

My mom and I are too much like each other than we would care to admit.
...

Besides, anyone who's ever worked for relatives, especially close relations, will tell you that it sucks.

Your folks may be the nicest people in the world, but there's too much constrainment in it.

Work demands professional relationships. But the nature of your relationship with kith and kin will always be personal.

And in that, things always go wrong.

...

Given how much pain we'd been causing each other, and realizing that our already strained relationship could only continue to deteriorate that way, it was actually a rather straightforward realization and decision that leaving would be for the good of us all.

The Bad in Life you leave behind, avoid, remove, destroy, ignore, etc.

The Good you embrace, seek, keep, protect, enjoy, appreciate, etc.

Life is never that straightforward.

...

Last Friday, before I left the office of the family business for the final time, I decided to say goodbye to the people working there, both on a professional and personal level.

The first one I greeted was our aging disbursing officer and typist, who'd been working there since my grandfather's time (my grandfather died when I was only 1 year old). Now, I hadn't told anyone or announced previously that I was leaving at the end of August, and only my mom and family knew about it.

She wanted to cry. This, sweet, round, gentle, hardworking old woman (her nickname is "Baby"- she's the grandmotherly type you just have to be nice to) didn't like me leaving. She would have to make my paycheque one last time, and even throw in my 13th month pay. I guess she was fond of me, since I grew up in that office, playing and loitering as a young tot while my mother worked. She watched me grow up. Yes, I too am fond of her.

I informed our Nun principal, who asked where I was going, also disturbed and surprised. I explained that it was time I went out into the world on my own. She accepted that, and wished me well. But there was that hint of "Please stay" in her eyes and voice.

I informed our workers whom I interacted with on a routine and daily basis in Admin, our cashier and bookkeeper, who were both always hardworking, cheerful and accomodating to me. I got "Why?"s- the not-forceful pleading kind.

I informed our aging and grand Dean, who'd worked there since my grandfather's time, like our disbursing officer. Her disappointment lay in whether or not I'd return to take over from my mom in the future. I couldn't answer that question, and just replied that I kept it in mind and remained open to it.

I lastly said goodbye to my crew in the school's Canteen, whom I managed and worked with. There was only "Where would we be without you?" I guess no matter how menial or mundane my daily duties was with them, I did well and worked well with them. One pointed out how I never let them down in keeping them well stocked. When it was only my mom, they'd inform her of their needs but, swamped with work, they'd get their requests days later, with profits and operation suffering somewhat. My daily monitoring and tending to their situation allowed the Canteen to finally become a profitable and stable venture. We all worked well together, we kept the Canteen a well running machine, and we all appreciated each others' cooperation and efforts.

They were my people.

...

And speaking of that, I guess I'm going to miss running that place. I'm actually proud of being a Canteen Manager. I did things there. It was my achievement: raising it, running it, letting it grow and prosper. As the cliché goes, it was my baby.

With resignation and independence in mind, I'd long before wondered how the Canteen in particular would do without me. Its growth and success was simply because someone was there to watch over it. The situation already favored it- it was neglect tha... ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/3244757/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/3244757/ Mon, 30 Aug 2004 05:26:21 PDT
But for me, the one that really sums up the value of friends goes:

You want to know the value of a friend?

Lose one.

...

I have always valued the friendships I've had in my life. As a child, it was just so easy to find someone to play and hang out with. Growing up, you discover yourself and you interests, and end up being a little more selective- but it's still not too hard to find companionship on the rough road that is Life. You grow up even more, it you get more and more and more choosy towards whom you'll be spending lunch with.

But here's a secret: regardless of how different two people are- no matter how far away from each other they live, no matter how separated by time and age, by background and culture, by wealth or social status, or some other divide- all friendships are begun simply through one device: Kindness.

Look back on all your true friendships, or even your relationships with mere acquaintances, and try to see how they all started: you will find that they all began when one person was bold enough to be openly nice to someone else. The most basic kindness in the world is simply saying "Hello" and "Pleased to meet you."

CS Lewis says that the basis of all friendships (or, rather, the Love that is Friendship) is in two people's common interests. Stamp collecting. Being in a foxhole with a fellow soldier during a shelling. Chess. Food. Climbing mountains. You get the picture. It is the common ground, the common world, between two distinct and utterly different individuals that leads them together. Friendship, Lewis says, is two people looking at the same horizon side by side.

I'm not sure I agree. While it takes something like a shared hobby or similar situation to keep you sincerely interested in each other, I do think that simply being nice, thoughtful, caring and concerned is enough as the basis of friendship. At the very least, it's there- Friendship cannot exist without that.

That is how all my friendships began and endured (though I have some reservation with the latter verb). Someone was nice to me. We talked, learned more about each other, decided to hang out together. That's it, that simple. I doubt it becomes so much different with other people, such as yourself.

For CS Lewis' reflection on Friendship to come in, I do admit that it was some sort of common ground that allowed the opportunity for us to meet and become friends. Classmates at school; common meeting places; shared hobbies.

But take note: there are many other people I met in those venues that didn't become friends of mine.

It was Kindness, whether from me or from them that did the trick.

...

One of the best pieces of advice my father ever gave me: "Make as many friends as you can. Always be open to meeting people and having acquaintances. When you grow up, they can help you in business or in your endeavors."

Honestly, what I didn't like about his advice was how it seemed that you should be making friends just to gain business contacts or to make money.

I've always believed in the virtue of Sincerity. Doing things for something else just seemed so dishonest and hurtful for me. The right thing to do was to do things for themselves, for their own values and sakes.

I've grown up now, and I do realize the truth of my father's words. Your friends yesterday do end up as your business partners and contacts today. Of course- who better to trust your livelihood with than a friend whom you're willing to trust your life with? Or even have already entrusted with?

I guess I realize my father wasn't talking about friendship but about doing business. At an early age, you could already set things up- and it'll work, no matter what profession you enter.

As for talking abou friendship itself, my father never did that with me. But I do know that he's got a lot fo friends, real comrades, all over. He does value Friendship. After all, he married the woman (my mother) his best friend introduced to him.

I've always seen my father as a practical and pragmatic man, businessman that he is. But I now realize that he's dar wiser and more clever than I ever gave him credit for.

...

I've broken and lost many of my friendships in my life.

Anyone who's wished for the simplicity and brightness of youth and childhood all realize truthfully just how aging, growing up and growing older complicates things.

In developing a personality and discovering yourself, you find limits, ba... ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/3097684/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/3097684/ Wed, 11 Aug 2004 07:46:40 PDT
I needed to go somewhere (a CCG tournament to be precise)- but I didn't have a ride.

So, I finally decided to ask my parents:
"Can I take the car and drive alone?"

And hesitantly- very hesitantly- they said:

"Yes."
(Several times reconsidering and reconsidering over the phone...)

And, for the first time, without an experienced driver next to me, I drove alone.

Carefully, of course. Watching every move I had to make. Looking in all directions. It wouldn't exactly look good if I crashed the car the first time I got to drive on my own.

To make things worse, the only car left that I could use was the one I wasn't allowed to drive: our nice, new sedan which my parents considered too new and too fine for an inexperienced driver like me to pilot.

I went around. I drove to my grandmother's place to join lunch with my immediate and extended family. I drove back home. I then drove quite a distance to the little gaming shop I hanged out in, where the tournament was to be.

And when I decided to return home, it was dark. I managed to make it back safely, the car untouched and OK.

(Oh, I also won that tournament. A lot of tough fighting, a lot of mistakes, a lot of luck and perseverance {THANK GOD!!!}- but I did it. I finally got my first tournament championship. I finally beat my toughest opponent in the game and finally proved my skills to my friends- and myself.)

That was one the greatest Sundays of my life.

Freedom (and Victory)...

Wings. ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/2959922/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/2959922/ Wed, 28 Jul 2004 09:00:37 PDT And He said, "Truly I say to you, no prophet is welcome in his hometown." - Luke 4:24

.......

(First of all, note that means the word "family" here not only means the immediate, nuclear family of father & mother and brother & sister, but also the extended of a clan: uncles, aunts and first cousins. The Family in Filipino culture isn't just a small social unit but also includes a whole history and bloodline.)

Deep inside, there's a part of me that wishes terribly to divorce myself from my family.

Family,- whether your parents, siblings, aunts & uncles, and first cousins- having known you all your life, have a terrible tendency to take you for granted. Having watched you grow up, make mistakes and follow your whims, they tend to take whatever they see of you as the entire truth of your being.

Of course, those things are just a few of the foibles you act out everyday. They are just the foibles you present, whether consciously or unintentionally, to them.

My family knows me as a submissive loser geek with no social life. I don't deny that I am a geek, with all the social clumsiness that is, sadly, part of the stereotype. Furthermore, taking after the crazy aunt of the family (God rest her kind soul now that she's at peace), I'm prone to following my whims, however crazy they might be.

The problem with thus being familiar with me that way, is that my family doesn't see anything more or anything beyond that of me. They have me as thus and will think nothing more, nothing good or nothing greater, of my person.

The flaw in all this is though they've watched me grow up as one of them, they've never really seen my real life. Once-a-week meals, occasional birthdays and funerals, a few functions in a month, two months, a year, etc.- they see only glimpses of me, whose accumulation over the years they take as the totality of my character.

One's real life is in the ordinary and everyday. It is when one really come alive and act on his own- which I never do, which I don't think I can do, with them. It was the everyday when I was still in school, namely college, that I perhaps was my very self. Studying, working, eating, hanging out- that was more me, for those instances contained everything I did or could do- rather than the mere social ineptitude and escapism they know of me. For there, I was making serious decisions, taking care of responsibilities, making friendships, discussing life.

No one in my family takes me seriously. Or if they do, it's never to hear what I want to say. When I am actually myself with my family, they never take me as myself and think only of my strangeness- and thus alienate me among them.

My mother, for the longest time after I chose not to enter Law school, has wondered why I valued the opinions of my friends more than hers. It is for the simple reason that she knows me not anymore, and looks at me the way she thinks I should be in her eyes.

Friends, real friends, or even good strangers you meet down the street for the first time, never take you for granted. You start off as an unknown to them- they are unable to make any assumptions of you. Perhaps, in moral praise of them, they even refuse to make any assumptions of you, if just to be fair to the person they've just met.

Friendship is the discovery of another person. CS Lewis states that it's never intentional- the point of making a friend is never to make a friend. You just make friends when you discover a kindred spirit in your midst. Two soldiers pinned down in the same foxhole; an old man and a young boy who like to play chess and eat pie; two young women who like to dance and shop for the same clothes. You meet unintentionally, for reasons never related to each other. But you end up together in an angelic bond as you go down the same road.

Enjoying a drink in the same bar after work each day, you get familiar with each other. You ask questions, tell stories- you are tabula rasa to each other. You must present yourself as honestly as you can, almost objectively and certainly factually.

Most of what your friends know of you will be based on your behavior. The comic habitual clumsiness you display when you consistently bang your knee on the same table edge each time you sit down. Your habit of speaking particular phrases and words. Your cursing. Your laughter. Your tears.

Ultimately, it's as complete a picture of you as it can get in life. They see you regularly, almost everyday. They see you at your utter worst and also at your very best. Most important: they see you in all your honesty, even and especially when you don't mean it. The real you is not just... ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/2916655/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/2916655/ Tue, 20 Jul 2004 08:44:29 PDT )

After a hot morning and midday, the day finally gave in to rain. I was outside when it began to drizzle, then pour.

Have you ever seen rain hit hot pavement?

It's nothing spectacular, mind you. The concrete just darkens in color as moisture begins to cover it. There's no obvious sizzle- the kind of sizzle you think of in the expression, "It's so hot outside, you can fry an egg on the sidewalk."

But as the rain poured on, I noticed it. It was subtle at first, but I focused as well as I could on the sight:

Mist and vapor rising slowly from the ground.

You had to really concentrate to see the mist. It was very thin, very ephemeral and easy to see through, easy to miss.

But it was amazing, seeing these beautiful ghosts rising off the grounds, like magical white smoke.

What made it even more enchanting was how the wind blew it around. It whipped it up in twists and rolls. It was utterly mesmerizing.

Wonder- after so long a time, I got to encounter it again.

Never, ever, ever, ever, EVER forget to appreciate the tiny but utterly beautiful things in Life. ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/2902650/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/2902650/ Sat, 17 Jul 2004 08:20:31 PDT Especially when betrayal is the right (or least evil)
And only thing I can now do?

We always hurt the ones we love most.

I'm sorry, mom. I'm really sorry.

I love you,
But you must let me go,
While I must move on with my life. ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/2844849/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/2844849/ Sat, 10 Jul 2004 07:29:23 PDT Magic: the Gathering collectible card game.

...

Used to.

I've been playing on-and-off for the poorer part of over eight years. There were some years when I didn't get to play at all, thanks to the game's unpredictable popularity and my own interest- but during the boom times, did I ever play!

I got to play again, after three years of convalescence, in my junior year in college, when I found a group of like-minded people who played it and had similar interests. I became part of the group, and through our interest in Magic made new friends and met new people.

I played everyday. I fought numerous duels almost each day during my breaks between classes. My decks of cards, stowed away for so long, were being rebuilt, completed and played on an almost everyday basis. I was finally able to make decks that, in my younger years, were barely able to function or be played properly, much less to their full potential.

(BTW, though I played everyday, I didn't neglect my studies. The even funnier thing is that my grades during my junior years, when I played the most, were the highest I ever got in college. I limited my playing during my senior year, and my grades just couldn't compare with the previous year's.)

I never was particularly good in Magic or any other hobby game I ever got into, but I learned fast and well. My friends, my opponents, were either really creative, skillful or ruthless (or any combination of the above adjectives) players- I had to learn to play at their level or drown myself in defeat after defeat. And I managed it- I learned how to play technically, using the finer nuances of the rules, and I improved my decks, updating and upgrading them as need be- not an easy task, mind you, since I had to satisfy my own eccentricities in deck building, of which I had a lot and which I strictly enforced upon myself.

In the end all, I guess I did well enough.

Graduating and working, I found another venue to play in: my friend had set up his own hobby gaming store, and Magic was one of their primary products.

Did I mention that I'd built around ten different, individual decks all that time? Some failed, some work, some I love so much- the last group of decks defining me as a Magic player.

Here's the catch: after all those years, playing and building decks, I'd slowly developed the feeling that I'd seen it all. I'd made so many different kind of decks and fought against so many different kinds of opponents that I'd almost spanned the entire range of basic decktypes available in the game.

This feeling, this weariness, could be attributed to my personality type: paranoid- it gives me the ability to see the different things as one; to link objects, people, places, etc. together according to some hidden, subtle but innate quality they all share. For example, having played one kind of speed/blitz deck, I felt that making and playing another would be too similar, nevermind if totally cards were used. The operation at heart- the experience- would all be the same.

And the truth: it may be a just feeling at times, but it is not totally false, if false at all.

So in the past few years, my Magic has been in decline. I usually bring out only my favorite decks now. And I've been playing less and less.

Factor in the common gripe of any old school Magic player: the release of game-breaking, potentially unfair and cheap (hobby gamers call them "cheezy" or "broken") cards and mechanics that just ruin the experience. Before, we had the Type 1 and Type 2 tournament formats, where Type 1 had all the older cards that were unbalanced and unfair, while Type 2 was a more controlled and level playing field.

Now, Wizards, Magic's company, is releasing new sets that go light years beyond the rule-breaking that was the norm in the first few sets of the game.

I shied away from that. Too much power and too little control in a game, in both my opinion and experience, is always a bad thing. No new Magic for me.

In the past few years, I'd also found other games- which made more sense to me, which were different, and, above all, remained controlled and fair.

There's a line in Shakespeare's The Tempest that describes the main character, Prospero, a sorceror, finally laying down his magic after achieving justice:
"I'll break my staff*,
Bury it certain fathoms in the earth,
And deeper than did ever plummet sound
I'll drown my book**." (The Tempest, 5.1)
* - wizard's staff, a mage's badge of office
** - spellbook

I'd always imagined my retirement from Magic bein... ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/2777472/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/2777472/ Thu, 01 Jul 2004 05:45:12 PDT
It was worth it. ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/2722261/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/2722261/ Tue, 22 Jun 2004 19:58:55 PDT
All my stuff is packed up in luggage cases and boxes. Can't get to my art supplies. And I have ideas... Gack.

Be awhile before I start adding new art here again.


2. Mom undergoes surgery.

Diverticulosis. They cut out a section of my mom's large intestine which had an abcess growing on it. Could've popped in the near future. Mom's groggy, but OK and recovering.

Just glad no signs of the Evil C (Cancer), scourge of my mom's line. My aunt (mom's sister) and grandma (mom's mother) died of it. Other people from my family also got it. Thank God and praise Him for His Unfailing Mercy my mom didn't.

Now working again in my mom's office, after vowing never to return. This is the second time I've broken that promise to myself. But at least I have cash.


3. I quit PC games.

I'm
just
so
freaking
tired
of
having
to
upgrade
my
computer
just
to
play
new
PC
games.

Or
coming
home
to
find
my
new
game
won't
work
due
to
some
damned
unforeseen
technical
complication.

Back to consoles for me, then. Gameboy Advance SP, here I come! ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/2649030/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/2649030/ Sun, 13 Jun 2004 08:05:33 PDT
Nothing in my experience exacerbates personal suffering more than doing nothing. "The idle mind is the devil's workshop." The truth of that saying is found in replacing the word "workshop" with "torturer's dungeon". Many of our torments are self-inflicted- yet, nevertheless, real. The devil does live up to his name: to allow us to be selfish and thus torment us more in our quest to fill ourselves. When one does nothing, one tends to wallow in one's own shortcomings and fears.

In the Hereafter episodes of the Justice League cartoon, Vandal Savage (civilized and reformed in that story) says in regards to having so much time on his hands (being immortal), "You have to keep busy or you'll go crazy."

You don't have to be immortal to appreciate those words.

Today, Sunday, with nothing to do... I went out. On my own. Hitched a ride with my brother to be dropped off at a mall. Went to the hobby gaming store, and chanced upon some friends. Tested out a CCG deck I'd been refining for some time. Searched for some cards, but unsuccessful. Watched my friends play in a mini-tournament.

I left. Walked two blocks down to another mall. Dropped by a comic book shop, discovered they had some graphic novel/trade paperbacks I'd been interested in for some time. Lined up at an ATM to get cash, waited in line, got cash, bought the books.

Walked all the way to the other side of the mall. Bought a lot of arcade tokens, adding to some I already had. Played my favorite arcade game, Silent Scope 2. Inserted token after token after token after token after token after token after token. Smalls kids and passerbys stopped to watch (probably amazed at how much I'd spent on tokens). Finished the game.

Walked all the way back to the opposite side of the mall. Took the railway system home.

It was great. It was very tired and felt like I needed a bath at the end, but simply being busy was a breath of fresh air (nevermind Manila's air pollution, BTW...).

We Filipinos have a saying: Mababaw na kaligayahan. Literally, "shallow joys". It's a deragatory term for being satisfied with things so simple, childish, petty and easily attained.

Happiness, even if small, trivial, fleeting or, above all, simple, is too good and too great to be mocked off that way.

This afternoon, I was able to ignore, at times even forget, my problems. It was wonderful- peace of mind bought by simple doing something fun, engaging or, at least, diverting.

Escapism can be a very bad thing. We don't need any more irresponsibility in our world. And yet, there are so many things we cannot or have a terrible time dealing with- we're only human after all: weak, frail and easily hurt. Sometimes, the simplest way to bear a burden is actually forgetting about it for awhile. To lose it, just lose yourself.

I guess it's best if I keep moving now, based on today's experience. ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/2572383/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/2572383/ Thu, 03 Jun 2004 07:47:01 PDT
I am a graduate of AB Philosophy from Ateneo de Manila University.

It drives me crazy whenever I look up jobs on the 'Net to find specific college courses and concentrations being required or specified. Business, Management, or Computer Science majors are what are mainly wanted. Non-Computer Science majors have their own place easily enough, especially with all the technology out-sourcing here. Even Art and Communications majors have a place to apply to.

But Philosophy majors? None. (The same thing goes for Humanities and Literature majors.)

Here, in the Philippines, Philosphy and Humanities courses are used mainly as a stepping stone to Law school, a "Pre-Law" course. Law here is taken as a graduate school study.

Otherwise, you teach.

I don't want to do either.

I'm trying to apply myself as an artist, which I really want, but, similarly, I don't have the credentials. Practical applications of artists around here are for PR or communications work. And what do companies usually look for in such? a Mass Communications or Fine Arts major.

Worse, overlooking my major, I don't have most of the skills, experience, training or technical know-how required by almost all the jobs I'm interested in. Lay-outing? PR work? At least how many years experience doing what each?

I really don't understand how these companies can label these positions as entry-level fresh grad opportunities when they demand experience. Where the hell can I get experience when all the fresh grad vacancies demand experience?!

1... 2... 3... Breathe...

My dad is bugging me again as to my job search. On one hand, he's right: I shouldn't just apply one-at-a-time at each company. For that matter, neither should I be so lazy or intimidated in applying.

On the other hand: leave me alone. Please, just leave me alone.

As soon as I get a job, the sooner I'll be bugged less by my family. The sooner I get a job and gain independence, then the less I see of them and the better.

I just want to live now.

My current depression is also exacerbating my other neuroses, BTW. On reflection, objective and factual at that, my current psychological disturbances are actually... nothings, weird thoughts and petty fears of a paranoid, introverted and lonely personality. But the stress is blowing them up out of proportion. I've always joked to my family and friends that I was crazy, but it's no joke when you actually start losing your sanity...

I loved my college Philosophy, in truth. I was never really good at it (mediocre grades and performance), but it was wonderful and insightful. I really learned a lot and I learned to think.

But while scholars can wear the laurels of learning on their head, it's not like they can eat those very same laurels as food...

...

In other news, the fact that my scanner is extra sensitive is driving me crazy.

Want to know why most of my works are smudgy? It's because my scanner somehow is able to pick up the most miniscule of dirt and graphite smudges I leave on my paper. Even stuff I don't see!

Sometimes, it's no problem- I just edit the work by deleting the smudges using Adobe Photoshop.

But sometimes the dirt is so extensive that deleting it may just damage the image and effect of the drawing. At which point, I simply cannot edit it.

Worse: I often scratch paper. That's to save on my paper use (for the environment), but now also because my art supplies are in storage (our house is being repainted) and inaccessible. As a result, any heavy printing at the back of the paper is also often picked up. This is also a pain, since they appear in places in the drawing I don't dare touch with Photoshop!

And until I fully master Photoshop, this is going to really and fully remain a problem. At best, I'm going to have to use harded lead, my "smudge-shield" acetate, and just be careful not to erase stuff or dirty my work too much. I'm also experimenting with using lighter scan settings.

...

There's a little black spot on the sun today
(That's my soul up there...)
It's the same old thing as yesterday...
- Sting and the Police, "King of Pain" ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/2532300/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/2532300/ Fri, 28 May 2004 21:44:10 PDT
Call-center work.

It was a job I dreaded taking.

...

Strangely, the trip I took to their office to take their applicant's exam was very pleasant. I've always enjoyed commuting via our Metro Rail Transit (an above-ground commuter rail), and it was a nice, long (but uncomfortably crowded) trip from my home, in the north of the capital, to the south, to where the financial district of the country lay. From the terminal, I had to walk to their office- which I loved. The MRT terminal is situated next to one of the country's largest, most connected and premiere shopping centers, with elevated and spacious walkways extending all the way down to the main avenue of the city where most of the office/commercial centers were located. I was window shopping and looking around as I passed by.

All my life, I'd never walked down that street before. I'd driven by it or seen it at a distance, but having no commerce (pun intended) there, I never once stepped foot before on the sidewalks beside those titans of Philippine capitalism. That day, after exiting those malls, I strolled down that street, marvelling at the new viewpoints and horizons I'd missed all those years. I was walking astride (though not as a peer) people busy in keeping our economy, however meager, flowing. It was definitely an experience.

I crossed that wide avenue, with my destination in sight.

I will omit what actually happened at my exam- it's now not important. I did do well, though.

What blew me away was that I ended up at the 33rd floor, with a window next to me. It was breath-taking. I could see Manila Bay- the sea- from where I stood. I always thought that the said border of Manila was still a considerable distance away from Makati, nevermind that the two cities are next to each other. Then, I saw it all.

I even tried to find the building where my dad's office is located. Hey, dad!

I took the exam. I took the interview. Maybe I was too honest. Maybe my mindset was too much different from what they needed. "We'll call you," they said. They said that to all the other applicants.

I went home, still enjoying the trip. This time, I decided to travel by the underground pedestrian passes. It made the walking through Makati City all the more magical.

...

I got the rejection letter this morning.

I don't know what to make of things now. On one hand, at least I won't have strange work hours, won't have to work on holidays (even religious ones! Thank God), won't have to endure a lot.

But, then again, I now just won't be working.

It was a good job offer. And I'm now back to square one on being unemployed.

...

From the soundtrack of the animé Wolf's Rain (With apology to the people of Wolf's Rain...):

Stray
Vocals: Steve Conte
Lyrics: Tim Jenson
Music and Arrangement: Yoko Kanno
Wolf's Rain by Studio BONES

Stray! Stray!

In the cold breeze that I walk along
The memories of generations burn within me
Been forever since I cried the pain and sorrow
I live and die, proud of my people gaining

I'm here standing on the edge
Staring up at where the moon should be
Whoa...

Stray!
No regret 'cause I've got nothing to lose
Ever stray!
So I'm gonna live my life as I choose
Until I fall..

Stray! Stray!
Stray! Stray!

In the white freeze, never spoke of tears
Or opened up to anyone including myself
I would like to find a way to open to you
Been awhile, don't know if I remember how to

I'm here waiting on the edge
Would I be alright showing myself to you?
It's always been so hard to do...

Stray!
No regret 'cause I've got nothing to lose
Ever stray!
So I'm gonna live my life as I choose
Until I fall...

Stray! Stray!
Stray! Stray!
Stray! Stray!

Is there a place waiting for me?
Somewhere that I belong?
Or will I always live this way?

Always stray!
No regret 'cause I got nothing to lose
Ever stray!
So I'm gonna live my life as I choose
'Cause all things fall!

Stray! Stray!
Stray! Stray!
Stray! Stray!

Stray... ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/2495755/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/2495755/ Tue, 25 May 2004 08:20:18 PDT ... Is to turn the stuff of Life
Into Poetry."

I wrote this in the yearbook of a fellow poet and friend of mine from college.

He was heartbroken after a teacher had promised him a job as a teaching assistant/apprentice instructor in college but was unable to do so. He really needed employment after graduation.

When he read it, he smiled.

...

That was over two years ago.

He now has that job.

As for me, today, unemployed after working (and fighting with my mom- God bless her soul) for two years, I find myself trying to get a meaningful job.

After two years of killing myself by not doing what I wanted, I now find myself scrambling to get a job where I can really apply myself. Though I need the job also for a more practical concern (cash), what's more important for me now is being happy with what I'm doing. Money really, really, really cannot buy joy or satisfaction.

My target was the first company in the Philippines to produce a real, complete, internationally-marketed PC game. I still haven't played it (took forever to upgrade our system here, and I still don't have enough time or energy to play), but the reviews are good and promising.

I targeted the company for the simple reason that it was right up my alley. I am an ex-law student who's really an artist/writer trying to apply for a job as an artist/writer though I've had no real formal training as such, having been an ex-law student, except for the writing part perhaps. In any case, I would just love to be writing storylines for players to explore, creating monsters (both visually, literally and figuratively) for them to contront, and just doing a whole lot of fantasy/sci-fi creative brainstorming. It would be heaven for me.

"Was"? Past tense?

Not accurate.

The truth is that I'm now in Limbo.

I sent my resume by e-mail one month ago. I then re-sent it last Friday evening, planning to follow it up with a hardcopy personally delivered today.

The whole trip there, I was nervous as heck. You couldn't tell, I suppose, if you were there. I was calm on the outside. But inside, I was scared half out of my wits. I really wanted the job.

You see, first, they had not posted any openings on their site. It was just a general "send your resumes here" sort of thing.

Second, as previously said, I've had no previous training as an artist, especially as what I was marketing myself as. Everything I can do was all self-taught. No design classes. Only scratching the surface of Adobe Photoshop. Not a technical computer guy, just someone who's very comfortable using a PC and can intuitively figure things out and learn. Thus, no real credentials other than the works you see here in DA plus some more.

I spent the day before finally preparing something I needed as an artist looking for work: a portfolio. I knew I had to leave home early to go to their office, but I spent the night removing, fitting and organizing my works in a presentable manner in the new, black binder I'd just bought. I chose my very best.

And on the way, I wondered if it was good enough.

I arrived 10 AM past. It took awhile to identify their building since it was so far down south in the city from my home and the place was unfamiliar. Circling twice around the block, only by asking a passer-by was I able to ascertain their office's location.

The distance, BTW, was noticed by my father. To go there, I had to ride with my dad on his way to work, and then take the car after dropping my dad off at his office. "You intend to work so far from the house?" "I'm willing to commute everyday. I'll even move out and live on my own if I have to," I replied. The job meant a lot to me. It was worth the daily sacrifice.

Arriving at their floor, I approached their door. It was glass, but they had covered it in wallpaper-like material. The only sign marking their office was a poster of their game on their door.

I could barely force myself to reach out for the door handle. I was breathing deeply, wondering what would happen next, imagining myself entering an office I was a stranger to, with the workers looking up and wondering who was coming in.

The door was locked.

I knocked.

There was no one inside.

The cooler water deliveryman noticed what had happened and informed me that they rarely came to work early (it was 10 past). In fact, they usually only arrived at 12 each day.

On one hand, the sillier and more optimistic side of me said, "My kind of work hours."

On the other hand, what now?

I decided to... ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/2466151/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/2466151/ Wed, 19 May 2004 21:44:44 PDT
...

In fact, I've been having this feeling now for quite some time now.

It is the worst feeling a sci-fi/fantasy fan can ever have.

Nothing excites me anymore. There was a time when I'd watch movies and TV (almost any good cartoon would have me glued to the tube) and really enjoy, read a ton of books (not just sci-fi or fantasy, but literature classics, science and technology texts, gaming magazines, etc.) without stopping, play quest after mission after stage of video and computer games, and write down tons and tons of ideas, all sorts of weird stuff that came into my head that I'd record and sketch. No, not that weird, but good weird. Cool weird. The kind of weird that made you feel alive and wonderful.

I miss that feeling.

I used to get this strange feeling each time I was exploring a fantasy world for the first time, whenever I'd find more strange and fantastic stuff. It's weird (as a writer, I feel ashamed- I can't even put it into words). But it was delightful- heavenly. It was like something was subtly tickling you around your heart and mind, a tickle that didn't make you laugh and even made you feel somewhat uncomfortable, but a wonderful tickle that that somehow urged you to go on, look on, experience- feel.

I haven't had that feeling in ages.

Did you know that some of the best sci-fi/fantasy, IMHO, is found in texts that aren't even meant to be pure literature?

A long time ago, I was introduced to the son of a family friend who eventually became one of my best buddies. Coming home to the Phil from a long stay in the States, we talked about common interests and hobbies. Besides being a sci-fi/fantasy nut (favorite author: Neil Gaiman), he was also a hobby gamer and knew different games in the industry.

Yes, you can find really good stuff in the background of RPG's, CCG's and the like. It's amazing what kind of material game companies put up simply as a background for their worlds. Background material my ass, they could publish them purely as books!

I remember being introduced to White Wolf's Werewolf: the Apocalypse RPG. I was always a big fan of werewolves, I've always loved them. He simply told me about the game all about their werewolves. Gathering up what little money I had at the time, I went out to buy the core book. I didn't even know what an RPG was then, I just wanted to read.

However escapist it was, even though I never really played the game, it was just amazing. All the powers, all the worlds it provided, all the wicked enemies to fight against, all the wonder to be taken in...

Besides that, there was his hobby. He was a big fan of Games Workshop's Warhammer games, whether Fantasy or 40,000 (sci-fi). During family outings, he'd bring his gaming magazines and books, filled with stories, background materials and histories and, bookworm that I was, I'd absorb them during the trips.

I felt like I was some sort of invisible wizard who could open portals and gates to different worlds to see their wonders and confront their horrors. I was an unrestricted traveller.

The feeling was immense.

Even without that, I was continually reading tons of great stuff. Science Fiction? The best for me is still Isaac Asimov's Foundation series (the Second Foundation simply rock). Fantasy? I started with the RPG-based Dragonlance series, collected the Cat Fantastic anthologies of short stores, discovered Brian Jacques Redwall, loved David Gemmel's Jon Shannow character (though I hated his world and plots). Of course, the best would still be Tolkien's immortal Lord of the Rings and C.S. Lewis' wonderful Chronicles of Narnia and Space Trilogy (the latter holds a special place in my heart- for while I read Perelandra I was in Paradise).

And let's not forget the classics! Jack London's Call of the Wild and White Fang, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes stories, the Baroness Orczy's The Scarlet Pimpernel and Dumas' The Count of Monte Cristo just to name a few.

And even before I read serious literature, I was a comic book nut. I stopped collecting comics a while back, but I buy trade paperbacks (collected volumes) and graphic novels now. The pride and joy of my collection are DC's Kingdom Come and Marvel's Spider Girl.

Computer games. I've been to Hell at least thrice (Final Fantasy Tactics, Diablo, Diablo 2, conquered and saved worlds almost a dozen times, etc. I'd play 'till my eyes were bloodshot.

Cartoons and TV a... ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/2418885/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/2418885/ Thu, 13 May 2004 23:01:26 PDT

At first, I found using it complicated and frustrating...

But I'm slowly (very slowly) getting the hang of it.

It's even getting fun (somehow, it's even more addictive than C&C Generals...).

At least I can start cleaning up the smudges on my works...

Stay tuned for further developments... ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/2390753/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/2390753/ Thu, 13 May 2004 23:02:00 PDT
With the country facing difficult times and divided by politics, tomorrow will be a day a judgement. Either we get leaders that push the country forward on a march to recovery, progress and prosperity, or we mire ourselves once again in corruption, partisan politics, stagnation and economic woe.

It's gonna be my first time to vote.

Cool, huh?

For those of you who are not Filipinos, if you remember, just three years ago, in 2001, we staged a massive protest that mirrored a similar peaceful revolution that ousted an iron-handed and corrupt tyrant in 1986. 2001, Erap Estrada stepped down from Presidency under the weight of his own corrupt administration.

I was part of that protest. I stood and wandered around that historic part of EdSA (Epifano delos Santos Avenue) where members of the populace who were just too tired of Erap's incompetence and corruption decided to make their disapproval known.

Erap abdicated, but the story didn't end there. Erap had supporters, a lot of them. The Poor Masses who, for once, found a politician, a President, who may have actually cared for them. He was kind to them. He gave them money and food.

He was concerned for their plight. Or, at least in their eyes...

And Erap had Big Friends as well. Politicians and bussinessmen who took advantage of his position as President to further their own ends.

There was the EdSA Revolution and EdSA 2 mockery that was the EdSA Revolt, that ended in coup, rioting and looting. There was the Oakwood Mutiny. And a whole crapload of scandals and accusations trying to undermine the current administration in an attempt to return Erap to power (as a puppet though; it's amazing that they don't realize the citizenry see right through their shennanigans, though I'm not surprised Erap doesn't see it).

Oh yeah, there was the 2001 Elections (for half of the Senate, for Congress, and for the municipal seats). The same bastards who screwed things up during Erap's admin ran again.

I didn't vote. I forgot to register.

My bad. My VERY BAD.

And many of them got the positions they wanted- AGAIN.

Three years later, those same blasted, bloody bastards are running again. Some of the ones who'd even taken a backseat since EdSA 2 have returned to try their luck (read: CHEAT) once more in getting a government.

"Masamang damo." (Filipino- "bad grass", which is nigh impossible to kill as the saying goes.)

Some are even doing so on the side of the current administration, which, by the way, isn't as clean as it claims or should be.

(You can't trust anyone these days.)

We went out during EdSA 2 to drop Erap; we only remembered the then Vice President as an afterthought.

Will we remember our country's future tomorrow as only an afterthought?

I won't.

I'm finally voting.

One vote in a sea of around 60+ million voters.

Just one- but I'm still going to do it.

Hey, if things work out, there'll be more jobs with the new administration, and a better economy! No more "Starving Artist" status for me.

But for the present, tomorrow, we shall face the future.

And the day after, the whole country, 80 million souls, shall wait with most baited breath for the result.

Let's see it through. ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/2350107/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/2350107/ Mon, 03 May 2004 09:59:59 PDT
It's really been awhile since I've been able to distract myself in such a fashion. The family computer, for the longest time, had just been behind the times for too long (3 years) to allow me to play any really good, new computer games. Preferably something fun and that could really occupy me.

And thanks to Electronic Arts' C&C Generals (TM & TM), YES, I now found myself sleeping very late at night just to play skirmish after skirmish and mission after mission of the game.

(Catches breath...)

And yet, it's just no longer the same as before. The satisfaction I get now is just not as much as I used to get before, playing older, less high-tech games.

Am I finally growing up? I feel so jaded... It's just not as fun or involving as before. Maybe it's because C&C has gone so far down the road that almost every innovation and thrill factor from it has been explored and exhausted. I've played the series from the beginning, and maybe I've just seen everything.

Or, I'm growing up.

Scary.

This part of my life, I find myself wanting... I keep thinking that there're other things out there that are just... better. CS Lewis used to say "greater, deeper, higher, further..." (or something like that).

I get into different gaming hobbies now and my satisfaction just doesn't last as long. No matter how well I play or how exciting the game gets, I always go home feeling like there's something else out there I should be doing. There's more to life.

The ironic thing of this reflection is that though I'm not as easily or completely satisfied as before, my old addiction to computer games is DEFINITELY BACK (it's now 12:57 AM here).

I realized as soon as I could play again that this thing would eat my time for doing projects, whether art, writing or whatnot. And it is.

Better stop before this really gets out of hand. I have to wake up early for work the day after tomorrow (May 5) and can't afford to oversleep again. I have two pending short stories to write, an art project to redo, and a hobby project to finish.

Old addictions die hard. ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/2277945/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/2277945/ Thu, 22 Apr 2004 19:52:03 PDT
Unfortunately, it's never really as simple as that.

Here I am, caught between trying to please either one of my folks. I quit working for my mom because we were always fighting and because I didn't have my heart in my work. Now, my mom and sister are going out-of-town for three weeks, and I've been asked to return to run the family biz while they're out. I agreed, if just to let my sister have this vacation.

Here comes my dad. Yesterday, I attended a job exam and passed. The position seemed OK, and it would've gotten me working again. But I then realized that I had prior commitment to my mom, so I had to turn it down. This just displeased my dad. He didn't like me working for my mom because he saw no future for me there. And he's didn't like me turning down the job offer since I had already passed the exam and could take it. So, I got a lecture: "You better start thinking about your future."

Oh, please. As if I haven't been worrying my head off about that since before I even graduated. It's bad enough that there's very little market for starving artists...

My mom wants me to work for her, my dad doesn't. Both think of me as irresponsible and untrustworthy.

Damned if you do, damned if you don't.

BTW, my parents aren't separated, divorced, whatnot, despite the difference in opinion. In fact, they're practically a perfect couple. It seems that it's only in this matter that they're divided, and they only voice their opinions out on me (meaning they don't know that they've of different opinions on my career).

No matter how old you become, your parents will always look at you as their child. For good or for ill. ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/2260433/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/2260433/ Tue, 20 Apr 2004 01:55:48 PDT
Well, it wasn't actually Paradise, but it was pretty close.

My home, the Philippines, is well known for its beautiful beaches. The most famous one is Boracay, well known as being a haven for wild and wonderful beach parties, but that's only the tip of the iceberg. There're hundreds (maybe even thousands) more pristine and picturesque beaches around the country, and a chance to visit and spend time in any of them SHOULD NOT be missed.

My family and I have just returned from a weekend trip to the island of Bohol, south of Manila, southeast of Cebu, in the Visayas. It's famous for its Chocolate Hills (no, you can't eat any of them, though I tried ), a thousand plus number of handsomely shaped grassy hills that turn a perfect brown during our Summer months (April to June). Of course, we toured them (they were breathtaking), but there was much, much more.

The simplest delight of our trip was that we were hoteled on a wide, lovely and inviting white sand beach. My sister had a field day getting a tan (I got one as well) while we all swam almost everyday. We took a glassbottom boat out to see the coral reefs and it was great. And just beyond that- mysterious, unfathomable blue depths. Bohol, as an island, is an underwater mountain, and it was a real pity none of us knew how to scuba. From the beach, you see a whitish shallow area with patches of rich, dark green-blue (seaweed and algae), then a band of lighter royal blue (coral reefs/shallow sea), and then finally dark, dark blue (where the depths suddenly drop as an underwater cliff).

We woke up early one morning to follow and watch pods of dolphins swim and eat (it was a real joy, though it was kinda crowded given the number of other boats also following them ) and then go fishing (my brother and mom caught one each).

The one pleasure I really indulged in was sleeping on the beach during the afternoons. The resort had set up hammocks all throughout the beach, and they were really comfortable. Put together the warm sun, the cool sea wind, the salty sea air, the gentle swaying of the hammock and you get Heaven (or pretty close!). My sister loved it too, and we kept wondering why our folks kept sleeping in our air-conditioned rooms when something better was outside. They did finally try out the hammocks on our last day.

Our non-beach excursion took us around the island. We saw the aforementioned Chocolate Hills, Bohols Forest Preserves, the Bohol Tarsier Habitat and the towns of historical Loboc and Baclayon. Tarsiers are the world's smallest primates and they are just so bloody cuddly! Loboc is known for its river which turns an amazing and very, very pretty green-blue during the Summer. The fun part is that the local tourist industry set up floating restaurants on the river. You actually end up boating up and down the river as you eat- it was great! At the very end was a series of small waterfalls in the midst of a forest, a mountain in the some distance away- incredible and gorgeous. Its beauty just leaves you in awe. And rest of the island as seen during the trip- calling it great eye-candy is a great, great understatement. It's a simply lovely and magnificent island.

We also visited the Museum-Churches of Loboc and Baclayon, with their part in the 300-years of Spanish colonial history of the country. It was here in Bohol that Miguel Lopez de Legaspi (the main Spanish colonizer of the Philippines) really began leaving Spain's mark on the country, and these towns and Churches are his living legacies to the country. No matter how simple and humble in appearance they are, they leave such an ancient and vast feeling in you- they connect you to hundreds of lifetimes that passed before.
~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/2202446/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/2202446/ Sun, 11 Apr 2004 19:19:20 PDT . . . . E . . . .
. . . . INRI . .
. . . . S . . . .
A NEW DAWN
. . . . R . . . .
. . . . I . . . .
. . . . S . . . .
. . . . E . . . .
. . . . N . . . .

Let's try not to screw up again in this new part of my life.

It's time to get a job. It's time for me to act. It's time to get a life. It's time for me to finally find myself...

It's time to start LIVING! ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/2161772/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/2161772/ Tue, 06 Apr 2004 00:08:58 PDT
For me, it's a time of retreat. No access to the computer, no TV, no night life (not that I had much of one, anyway)- just a time of reflection, meditation and rest. So shoot me already for being a believer.

The one really, really good things about this week is how I get away from the distractions of the Real World. This is the time of the year I get to read all those books I stored up over the year, the time when I get to draw the most, and, sometimes, I get to write.

So, no communications for this week between me and DA, in exchange for being able to really follow up on my artistic pursuits. When I come back, I do hope I'll be bringing something good.

On more serious matters, I do hope the Holy Week gives me some enlightenment and guidance on my life. I sure could use direction now. I barely have a clue as to where my life is going, with me now jobless and wondering what in blazes I'm going to do in my life(besides the obvious of finding a job). If this continues, I won't even be a "starving artist"- just starving.

One of my greatest fears is to become someone who doesn't have a job, doesn't have a life, doesn't have a family or friends, and doesn't have meaning- someone who hasn't amounted to anything or made no worthwhile or meaningful contributions to anything, who can't even take care of himself, and who ultimately doesn't even care.

A starving artist is better than that because he can at least say that he's an "artist" (ie. he's doing or making something).

Forget "starving" for two reasons: 1) we all go hungry at certain parts of our lives; 2) any artist worth his/her salt will find a way to make a living off of his/her art. Never quit your day job, they say. And if you're smart, the classic "artist selling out to capitalism vs. starving artist being true to his calling" argument will NEVER come up. Real genius lies in balance; the best artists are the really disciplined ones. And if you're smart and disciplined, finding time for both will never be a problem.

Well, have a good Holy Week. ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/2128661/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/2128661/ Thu, 01 Apr 2004 08:43:18 PST
Having a bratty sister and a pushy mom is bad enough, but it's not enough to give me existential angst.

My real source of existential angst right now is coming to realize that I've wasted two years my life doing nothing. Nothing. Nothing: even in the really frightening, nihilistic metaphysical sense.

I've taken my life for granted. In fact, I've taken all of it for granted. I just let things be, let things slide, whether for good or ill, right or wrong. I let myself be pushed around by others, I also let others do all the real work for me. Either way, it sucks- what kind of a human being am I to waste myself, my energy and being, no matter how small or pathetic I really am, on Nothing?

Laziness is deadly. Complacency and procastination are two words that actually mean "I'm dead, even though I breathe." When you do Nothing, you ARE Nothing.

You can proclaim Nothing the same way Nietzsche and Sartre did, in the most horrifying, maddening and utterly selfish ways possible- but even that is much, much better than doing Nothing.

I haven't written almost anything in two years. My sketching and drawing is on and off. I've found such a convenient excuse: "I'm not inspired./I don't have any ideas."

In other words: "I'm not going to do any Art just because I can't get off my ass to start anything or do anything about it."

A person easily described as "pathetic" or "worthless" who does something- ANYTHING- isn't pathetic at all. Doing Something is always better than doing Nothing.

What was that that Aristotle said? Something like, "What you do defines who you are. Who you are defines what you do. Do something enough times, it becomes a habit. Thus, Excellence and Virtue is a habit."

In other words, if you keep going and doing and moving, whatever good you pick up will eventually stick with you- perhaps even for good.

I've got to stop sitting down and letting the world pass me by.

After that same two year hiatus, I picked my pencils and started drawing again. Only two little projects, nothing continuous (gotta get back to that and keep working), but, GOOD GRIEF, it felt so DAMN GOOD. It was wonderful. I was alive again, and all the problems, demons and ghosts haunting my mind, real or imaginary, just disappeared doing it. I was so Free.

I'll post those two drawings soon, when I find the time (I'm hunting for employment now, gotta pay my bills). But at least I'm now being forced to move.

Move or be moved- it's better than not moving at all.

Thank God for Philosophy 101 and Maurice Blondel. ]]> ~DreamPen http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/2113564/ http://DreamPen.deviantart.com/journal/2113564/ Tue, 30 Mar 2004 04:55:42 PST
While I don't think it was a bad decision to have quit law school and instead start working, I have so many mixed feelings now that I've quit.

There's the rift between me and my mom, thanks to all those fights, arguments and all the times we rubbed each other the wrong way (most of them unintentionally too, with neither of us being patient or forgiving enough to just let things slide). Yes, I was a poor worker who took things for granted in the family business. My mom was the too-demanding boss who never saw any of my efforts as competent or adequate.

What good I was part of in the family business, I now find I'm going to miss so much. It's so easy to get attached to the employees one not just has worked with but care for. It's only been 19 months that I've worked in the biz running the Canteen, but I really feel I'm going to miss the people working the Canteen with me.

I knew that my tempestuous and frictioned work relationship with my mom just couldn't go on. But it's so hard to let go.

Now, I face an uncertain future. My folks were right, though, about me not knowing what I want. I don't know what I can or will do about my life now. All my life, I guess I've let others take care of me or just let things be too much. I'm too sheltered. I never really strove to do something on my own or be independent and responsible- I just thought that I was being that without any work or meaning in it.

Working for almost two years in the family biz, I let my laziness and ennui get the best of me. It has been the most creatively unproductive time of my life. I look back on my college years, and I was writing poetry during my classes and yet still listening to my teachers and doing my work responsibly. I wasn't the best of students, but neither was I the worse or even bad. ]]> ~DreamPen