Monthly Archives: January 2012

‘Pappy Kept His Moves’

Once a good dancer, always a good dancer.

There’s certainly something to say when you’ve just witness a good number of old folks dancing. And I’m talking about over sixty seasoned folks. My mind was blown.

It gets me thinking about how often  we discount the elderly when it comes to particular activities like dancing or anything that involves even the subtlest movements. It’s so easy for us to scoff at the youth hidden behind their wrinkled bodily form. How we label the old by the color of their crown and crooked backs. It’s almost not fair..

Truth is nobody wants to grow old. I mean, grow old.

The young of this modern realm is afraid to tread past its prime; to have their youth fossilized in a feeble frame. So they spend the remains of their glory days exhausting the youthfulness they possess. Don’t get me wrong, to be young is liberty at most supreme stage. But to be old is to treasure the youth once had, not just to reminisce the spring time of life, but to embody it.

Beyond all shadows of doubt, there are significant stages in life. But youth.. youth is eternal.. in spirit.

This is a sweeping declaration that my soul will remain young as I tread towards all maturity. Dancing effortlessly with time.


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Sleeping Pills And Brain Disorders: A Humor-Filled Incident

Today, I put a tub of ice cream in a microwave.

A tub of ice cream in a microwave.


This is far more worse than just mere absent-mindedness. It’s either my severe insomnia had started to take it’s dreadful effects on me or my memory span has deteriorated from one of a goldfish. Because, let’s be honest, no man in the right mind would ever place a bucketful of frozen goodness in a melting machine.

Now, I didn’t go as far as switching it on. But just the fact that I was completely oblivious that I dumped it there is downright ridiculous. I didn’t know what I was thinking. I don’t remember contemplating on life’s most difficult questions for me to not have at least a single ounce of sense to stick there. And if it was waywardly absurd to perform such a thing I should’ve realized it while I was in the act of doing it. But my mind was lost somewhere where pigs fly. Shame on me.

Heaven forbid an over anxious case Alzheimer’s.

Now as much as I love to indulge in my guilty pleasure of being a profound insomniac I have to say I must lay off my nocturnal innuendos for some time and give my fragile mind a sense of serenity. And a daily does of Vitamin B12. And I nightly prescription of Melatonin.

Perhaps a slight slap to the cheek for a certain degree of heightened awareness.


SONGOFTHEMOMENT: All This And Heaven Too by Florence And the Machine

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The ‘N’ Word

Kids say the darnest things..

It’s true though. Kids pick up things that we throw away unknowingly including filthy words that we spit out our mouths. It’s interesting how the level of receptiveness is at prime in the early stages and gradually deteriorates to rusty old machine.

Take for example the ‘N’ word. I have a bad habit of impersonating ghetto persona’s of thug-like black men for humorous purposes. don’t get me wrong I am particularly amiable with such likes of people. (Heck, I’m best friends with one) I just think it’s inappropriately funny to end my sentences with the ‘N’ word. No racial issues though.

My nephew is about a good age of 3 years old. He’s can be quite a talker. (Although he sounds gibberish with his words) So when I was playing with him I might have inadvertently used the ‘N’ word. Not knowing well enough, I shrugged it off thinking he’d never equip such word in his vocabulary. And I was never more wrong..

Nephew: Stop hitting me!

Playmate: *hits*

Nephew: I said knock it off!!

Playmate: Make me! *hits again*

Nephew: Cut it out, NEEEEEEEEEGGGAAAAAA! (with crisp intonation and prolonged pronunciation)


I didn’t get a major telling off from my aunt but I was put on the spot; downright embarrassed because he sounded like yours truly. And I didn’t know whether to flattered or appalled by such uncalled for reaction, really. It’s outright mental to contribute to a kid’s socialization process in such disrespectful manner. I’m ashamed.

It’s intriguing to see how quickly kids absorb the outward traits we portray in their presence. And also, how profound they use such knowledge early in their lives. So common moral of the story: don’t be thug-like, ever. Influence is a deadly thing, especially to tender earthlings who don’t know better.


PS- I think the excessive reading of ‘The Catcher In The Rye’ has me going down with a slight Holden Caulfield Syndrome. I can already see hints of it. Lol.

SONGOFTHEMOMENT: Heartbeat by Nneka

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Earthly Vomit

I have an impression that the world we live in is ultimately sick.

Ill. Diseased. Dying.

As I sit in every sociology class, my eyes have been opened to the most abysmal truths about society. And as baffled as I am with such appalling facts I can’t help but realize that I am a part of this global fiasco. And it’s sickening. How we live our lives as individuals and as a whole is no where near normal. Humans we are, human we are not.

I don’t know if cultivating a sociological imagination is a blessing or a curse at the moment.


I cannot fathom the social issues that overwhelm our modern lives. The fact that we have evolved into overly complicated characters in this dramatic play of life is not at all entertaining. The ‘normalness’ we have composed is a mere facade of typicality. And witnessing such naked truth causes us to bend over reality in hopes of finding normality. But there is no such thing as normality, I just don’t think so anymore..

We try to good but we we cant.

I now see a clearer picture of what The Maker initially intended for this world. But since we redirected from the plan our would has been consumed by all evil. There is no good. No, not one. There is only grace, thank God for that.

SONGOFTHEMOMENT: Grand Optimist by City And Colour

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See What They Say: The Shawshank Redemption

Hope is a good thing.


Get busy living or get busy dying.


Salvation lies within.


SONGOFTHEMOMENT: Marriage of Figaro by Duetto-Sul Aria.

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Conversations are my cup of tea. And for such activities one requires an expert accomplice. The thing about it is the constant exchange of ideas like playing tennis; the mutual understanding or misunderstanding of matters; the subconscious feel of connection. This is an epitome of excellent communication.

Such unrehearsed dialogues, no matter how nonsensical, are those that stitch together ‘good times‘. From intense confrontations to softly whispered compliments. People love to hear and be heard. And what great pleasure is a simple of confabulation of experiences.

Life happens so we can talk about it.

SONGOFTHEMOMENT: Shuffle by Bombay Bicycle Club

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An Actual Academic Appetite

This is wayward mental. I’ve just managed to snack my way out of studying..

  1. Spaghetti; Ham and cheese sandwich
  2. Whipped cheese on toasted bread
  3. Greek yogurt
  4. Oreos
  5. Tortillas
  6. Fish fillet; rice
  7. Ice cream
  8. Popsicle
  9. Chicken nuggets
  10. Whipped cheese on toasted bread

(I also had nth glasses of milk for the entire day)

I don’t usually have the stomach to warehouse such massive amounts of food unless I’m terribly famished but for some weird reason I have always been inclined to nibble on noshes when I study. It’s like the rate of my academic performance is somehow proportional to my level of appetite. Which is contradictory. Because science implies that the stomach needs energy to digest the food leaving the brain to do without less. Hence, a slower processing of information.

Science always bursts my bubble. 😐

But hey, I don’t mind the scholarly cholesterol. Or maybe a few educational calories. As long as it makes me fit for my pedantic endeavors, I would more than willingly eat my way to excellence.



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“Reading Between The Lines”

As you can see from the previous entry, I have been engrossed to reading The Catcher In The Rye. Not just because I’m willingly obliged to but I also find myself interestingly baffled by its story. And being a lightweight reader, I must say I am strongly compelled to leaf through page after page.

And with sheer interest for the story’s deeper meanings I found myself learning how to read between the lines. Being a rookie reader, it get’s somehow difficult to decipher the message in it’s profound context. But I’m learning to.

So it came to me in a vivid dream; if I were to read between the lines of my life. What would my actions foretell?

  • I don’t use pens. This illustrates my being careful of committing mistakes. I would always preferably use a pencil and eraser for the obvious  reason that I can rub off any errors that I make. Hence, fear of any possible blunder.
  • Alarm clock immunity. My ability to snooze through multiple alarms is downright outstanding to the point of punctuality related frustrations. This shameful trait basically highlights my sense of time and clearly shows how lethargic I can be.
  • I get too quiet sometimes. This points out to my reflex in being awkward at times. It’s really difficult to to be on the spot at the heat of all the silence and I know best not to talk without thinking twice about words.
  • I miss out on details. This best describes my inadequacy to pay attention to careful instructions. I take an ‘okay’ to be okay. without concerning myself further on the matter avoiding to digest any formal jargon.
  • I misplace things. Perhaps this transcend my tendency to not care about certain things. Especially those that I have prior use of.  This explains my reasons for taking things for granted. I fail to see the value of the things I have.

And I could babble about this topic for days over.

Perhaps I am a book. And the days be my page.


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