Monthly Archives: April 2012

Comeback Kids

I’ve always believed in the act of ‘believing‘. And if there ever was a great event to attest on it, it would be what the L.A. Clippers did tonight against the Memphis Grizzlies.

If you’re not an avid basketball junkie, this would pretty much underline their tremendous feat: They were down by as much as 27 points with the clock against their will. You don’t have to be a fan to realize the degree of difficulty in terms of attempting a comeback.

But they did.

And they won.

I’ve always admired Chris Paul for his competitive edge. Being acknowledged by one of the greatest competitors ever, Kobe Bryant. It should come as no mystery about how the team was able to rally. I’m not discounting the team aspect of the sport. But more so, I highlight a fighter’s will to keep pushing until the buzzer sounds.

Although, I’m on the Grizzlies bandwagon. I can’t help but to recognize such outstanding win.Definitely fanboy-ing like crazy for the NBA playoffs.


SONGOFTHEMOMENT: Future Shock by Bad Time Zoo

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A Figurative Reality: Cellphone, Shoelaces And..

I wanted to lose my phone…

Because it’s an outdated BlackBerry Curve that is 3 seconds late in its every function; making it incredibly annoying to check messages and whatever facilities this wretched phone has to offer. Also, the battery has been worn out to the point that it acts like a fuel leakage, power draining faster than you can say “I just pulled it out from the charger, I even kept it in overnight. Goddam!” A deliberate desire to misplace my pathetic excuse for a cellular device in another reason to get myself a new one. Preferably, it’s much younger sister; sexy, sleek and sexy, the new BlackBerry Bold.

You know when they say. “if you want it bad enough, it will happen”? Well, it’s a cosmic anomaly that such statement may be true. I was out today buying people presents for when I get home and all when my phone shuts down. Right at the time when I needed it the most; taking pictures of store items sneakily, as if attempting to send images to a Chinese warehouse where new piracy is born; talking to folks and asking them what they want but instinctively thinking of just getting them a hometown hockey tee. After charging it for an entire 8 hours, it decides to go to sleep in less than hour’s usage. Screw this phone. I stood there wishing it got lost; playing with it as if to smash it on the floor. Goddam. I didn’t care if I had lost it.

But I really cared.

I finally lost the godforsaken thing. 😐

I didn’t want to lose my phone…

Because I would definitely get a glorious oral lambasting from my folks on how irresponsible and careless I am. Also, everything in that phone is 0.005% sentimental. But sentimental nonetheless. After all, I got all my fully clothed pictures in there. (Literally) That phone also stored confidential codes that could lead to identity theft and bankruptcy.

I remember how I wanted to lose it so bad. At the same time it feeling doubly worse. Sometime we don’t think. I usually don’t. Which sucks badly for me. Because I don’t care enough. And those are just material things, what if it was a live and beating heart?


But I found it. Just right now. Dead in the night; lounging in one of the shopping bags I carried all day. Guess my uncle was right, I’m a cat with nine lives with this phone. But not all things that are lost can ever be found again..

I stole. Yes, I am a sly thief with devilish courage to nab a pair of shoelaces. Daredevil, I am. For such account of thievery, I am to be considered a criminal. But don’t think I take this lightly because I don’t.

I remember when I first stole a piece of gum. It was packed in a can with a dozen of paper wrapped, fruit-flavored chewy goodness. I stared at it and imagined how it would tickle my taste buds. I craved for it. But I was broke. And when you’re 8 years old and unemployed, you get desperate. And desperation paves way for criminals. I stole the a singe piece of gum. And I spat it out the minute it came in between my teeth. Not that it was disgusting. But I was..

And here I am, stealing shoelaces. I know it’s a long shot for kleptomania but it doesn’t make it right. Because sometimes we like things only because we want them.

I’m disappointed with myself.

Very stupid. So naive.

Did I say I’m thinking about getting a girlfriend?

SONGOFTHEMOMENT: Heartlines by Florence And The Machine

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For a liar to go to church is to be utmost true to oneself.


SONGTHEMOMENT: Lord Of Patience by Shai Linne feat. Melissa T.

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4-20: A Different Kind Of High

Apparently, it’s 4-20 today.

“Burn time”

I was appalled by the fact that such event existed and is celebrated. I have nothing against weed or whatever it is that someone may find pleasurable. As long as you don’t interfere with other people’s business; staying perfectly behaved and conscious, it’s okay. Puff smoke like a chimney.

Now that I’ve introduced the topic of discussion. Here’s my two cents about the matter. Note that I have never taken a hit before and not planning to anytime soon. The statements below depict the typical action and reaction of users (first quotation) as well as innocent beneficiaries (second quotation).

  • Do you want to take a hit?“. “No, thank you”. I’ll pass“. This is the ‘sharing‘ stage; the deal usually starts in this scenario. And most often than not it’s just blind generosity; people don’t want you to be a godforsaken drug addict, they’re just obliviously considerate. They want you to experience the high-delight.  Trouble is when you decline.
  • Come on man. Try it”. “No it’s alright. I’m good. Thanks for sharing..” This is the “persistence” stage which comes in three waves. The first wave is very subtle; a slight urge to double-check on double-takers. If the user is sensible, the offer would be declined.
  • Just one hit, man. Don’t be a buzzkill”. “…”. The second wave is the part where stubborn meets stoned. And this is usually when when the beneficiary is put on the spot for refusing; it gets ugly at this phase. And depending on the degree of high and current mood of the user, an argument can arise. Consequently, people tend to give in at this point.
  • Why not?”. *Explains* This is the confrontation stage; the part where a rebuttal is conceived. To ask me the first time is completely fine. But when I have to reiterate several times to try and convince you that I’m just not into that sort of stuff, I get really ticked off. Most of the time, one’s counter will baffle the user leading into repetitive interrogation.
  • “Life is short. Do it for the experience. It wont hurt. It’s not addictive”. “…”. This is the third wave of the ‘persistence‘ stage; a cliche dialogue to try and lure you to temptation. Life is certainly short, and shorter if you get screwed on that junk. Neither, does it make you live longer. There’s loads of other experiences more worthwhile than that stuff. If you really want to experience life, try skydiving or something. Sure it doesn’t hurt, you may even say it’s improves health. But if you’re taking a drug supposedly for the ill, that just makes you sick. I don’t believe it’s not addictive because if it wasn’t, you wouldn’t bother smoking it.

Weed is just not my thing. And that should be a perfectly viable excuse. No further doubts whatsoever.

I get dismayed when people automatically start to clash weed and Christianity together. Like the reason I don’t do it is because of sheer abstinence due to my faith. Yes, I abstain from such things; not just because it’s bad. But also because I believe in a potent form of happiness. Not something I steam out of my mouth and nostrils. I am better than that. People are better than that.

Your high don’t last forever.

SONGOFTHEMOMENT: Youth by Daughter

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Beating Myself Up..

My sore body is sore. My aching muscles are aching..

As part of my preparation for summer revelry, I have decided to shape up a bit; going to my uncle’s home gym to burn some unwanted fat and get to looking mighty fit. Now since, my uncle can’t be bothered to spot me with my wimpy arms, he introduce me to P90X. A suicide instructional video choreographed by, Tony Horton.

If you haven’t heard of it, it’s basically an hour’s worth of pure punishment. A solid set of death work outs that will make abortion your godforsaken food babies and cause you to vomit your insides. Which leads me to doubt Bruno Mars and his music upon hearing ‘The Lazy Song’. I mean how can you have s** after P90x when you just got from an early raping.


This is Tony Horton.

So peeved by his hyper-masculine, macho-exaggerated American bod.

And Tony Horton is the orchestrator of all pain. He does so by putting you in trance that causes you to beat you your own body. He’s pure evil; deceiving with his bewitching self esteem dialogues and corny catchphrases. Along with his accomplices he beguiles you to keep coming back for more physical torture..

But as you continue to lambaste your body, it sculpts itself into a shapely figure. Broad, detailed, lean. It gives you a chance to look like a handsome young devil at the age of 53. Just like Tony Horton.

I just wish he didn’t talk as much during the videos; making it look do goddam easy. Then maybe I wouldn’t dislike him as much.


SONGOFTHEMOMENT: Here We Go by Chiddy Bang feat. Q-Tip

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On Repeat: Daniela Andrade

This cover helped me get my project together across a whole all-nighter. I heard Daughter’s original version of the song and I already figured it was perfect. But to have this lady, elaborate this song much further was just immense.



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All Caps And Exclamat-ed

I’m done.


I guess now is the right time to heave a sigh of relief. A good quarter of the year has passed and I’m still kicking (Not that I was planning to die or anything) It’s been quite a tough one but to tread past it with sheer will is something I commend myself for. And for that the universe owe me this time of the year:


I’ve just about had it with windswept wintry walks and the frostbitten breeze that keeps cheating on spring. Let my impatience be satisfied by a place where summer is infinite and the breeze is a warm kiss. Because, I am coming back home.


Let the glorious dog days start once I step foot on your hot sand. Give me my family and allow me to embrace them; live my old life like how it all used to be. Free my friends from the bondage of distance that kept us apart; relinquish us with good times filled with great experiences. Grace me with bright lights while it’s dead at night and lease your warmth in daylight. I can’t wait…

I won’t be back until early May. So I’m not going to get ahead of my summer until I touch down Dubai. That doesn’t mean I can’t get started with my blogging spree though. I’ll be using my spare time to catch up on stories I was too busy to blog about and post some pictures I was lazy to share.

I’ve got too many long nights for my insomnia to consume. Perfect.

SONGOFTHEMOMENT: Hey Ya (Cover) by Rita Ora

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Weak Finish

It’s not about how you started, it’s how you finish.

Story of my life.

I remember walking in my first English class at the collegiate with one goal in mind: To make the best out of this class. Coming of from missing a shot at earning The Top Of The World Award for English Language, I had nothing in mind but to give my utmost effort. And I did.

I did it for the first half.

I worked my bottoms off to hatch an egg and it was well worth it. But after seeing how good things were. I took my foot off the pedal; leaned back and got comfortable. I lost sight of my goal. I still am in a fairly good spot though, in fact a better spot compared to my classmates.  But that’s not the issue. The point is, it’s about doing my best. And writing the exam today was definitely not the right connotation of the word.

I didn’t fail. But didn’t prepare to succeed either.

I’m not going to lie. The whole idea of the ‘home stretch’ really didn’t help me. Because instead of closing strong, I couldn’t wait to get things done and over with. Although, I miss home and miss it terribly or I feel heavy with unsorted burdens. I’m not going to take those as a viable excuse.


Goddam it.

I want to do my best.


And nothing short of it.

SONGOFTHEMOMENT: Swim Good by Frank Ocean

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What I Got From A Kinder Egg

Honestly, I never knew it was Holy Week until after I got pulled out from my 15 dollar Good Friday shift at the pizza place.

How dumb of a Christian am I?

The single most important time in the entire universe. And I had not a hot clue. I’m not so much disappointed at the fact that I forgot but more so on the reason that I was unaware because of my unfamiliar environment. I was taken out from my spiritual comfort zone and was put in a generic spot where there was no one to remind me.

I am ashamed.

I stand frustrated. Frustrated with my Christian life and the world, with all it has to offer. Indeed my faith is put into the challenge when the world gives me life that’s tangible whereas my God gives life that is spiritual.

It’s a good thing I managed to hit the church today. And to be reminded of his acts that he had done on the cross, it’s beautiful. The blood shed from the thorns on his head and the pain he endured to save a wretch like me. For him to stoop so low as to walk on the dirt I swim in. My God.

He died from the sting of death that was set for me..

I am ashamed..

Because on this day that I ate merrily and gobbled giant Kinder eggs for dessert; the life of The Most High was nailed on the cross. And I lived another day of my life whereas He lost His for mine.

I cannot repay the debt he paid. I can never.

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