Another blast from the past.

Timmy is the son of an obscure super villain named Leap Frog. After a traumatic experience, Timmy showed signs of Split Personality Disorder, and had a fixation on the Daredevil. After weeks of investigating, Ben Ulrich found out that Timmy was physically abused by his father, Leap Frog. Turns out, one day he caught Leap Frog fighting Daredevil on the roof of their apartment building. Leap Frog screamed at him "Get out of here, or you're next!" as he was beating up Daredevil (I know, seemed unlikely but Daredevil was distracted by Timmy showing up on the roof). So Timmy took a cut electrical wire and electrocuted his father, Leap Frog.

And Ben Ulrich, writer for the Daily Bugle writes an article about it:

This is just a story of a boy. Adults get the opportunity, eventually, to choose who they are. Children do not. Children come into this world with no say in the matter. No one asks you what kind of parents you want. No one asks you what environment you think you would do best in. You just wake up one day -- and you’re in the world. You wake up and look around you…and you see the hand that’s been dealt you. What the world has in store for you…

Contrary to popular belief, we do not live in a world of equals. Anyone who says otherwise is lying to make themselves feel superior or perhaps even inferior. Some of us have ethnic diversity. Some of us have sexual diversity. And some of us -- some of us can even fly. Some of us are Peter Pan.

In my travels as a reporter for this paper -- sometimes it feels like I have met every kind of person there is. Every kind of human diversity. But I haven’t. Every once in a while the world surprises even the most jaded -- of which I must include myself -- with someone like Timmy. Timmy was born into this world just like the rest of us…and like many of us, he has spent every single conscious moment of it trying, as best as he can, to tune it all out. Because just like the rest of us, no one asked Timmy who he would like for parents. No one asked Timmy what kind of environment he would like to live in. Certainly, no one told Timmy that sometimes life just isn’t fair. That sometimes people can be mean for no good reason. That people say they love you, can treat you badly. But most importantly, no one bothered to tell Timmy that these things are not his fault.

Many people have said to me: who cares about a guy named leap frog? And I say: certainly not I. In my moral dictionary, that man lost his membership rights to the human race a long time ago. They can leave him where they eventually found him. I care about a remarkable little boy named Timmy. And what makes him so remarkable to me? When faced with no other choice, Timmy rose up and faced his moral fear head on. He did this and he came out the other side to tell about it. And though I’ve met a lot of different types in my time, I can honestly say I don’t know a lot of people who can claim such a task. But I wish I did. I wish I was like Timmy. …and I just wanted to tell you this story.

I posted this nearly 5 years ago. I can't believe it's been that long already. Just thought with everything happening in the Philippines, or even the world...we're currently in need of heroes.

This came from Ultimate Spider-Man Super Special #001, Peter Parker, still in High School tries to find the answer of what makes a Hero for a homework. This was his report:

"With great power, comes great responsibility. Heroes. The way I see it, when most people think of heroes, they think of larger than life patriots. Men and women who have dedicated both their personal and professional lives to represent a symbol of hope to those whose life might seem hopeless. A colorful embodiment of selflessness. Of course, that’s not the only form a hero’s life can take, and there are so many places that our heroes come from. So many worlds within our world…worlds of magic…worlds of technology…worlds of intrigue…a world where a family of adventurers can bond together in the fight for the underdog. And when speaking of the underdogs of our society, one can’t help but think of the mutants. People whose entire existence is defined by their unique genetic birthright. And like every civil rights embattled minority before them, some mutants have come together using their celebrity and powers to help fight for their cause…while others wade through life’s persecutions and misunderstandings by attempting to live their everyday lives with nobility and grace. But a noble soul can whether they want to or not, find himself on a warrior’s path. Sometimes I wonder if being persecuted and embattled because of who they are makes the choice of becoming a warrior predestined. Predetermined. And that it’s the choice made there…when faced when faced with the unthinkable…that defines them…because we do not live in a black and white world. Cliché, but true. We live in a world where around any corner an act of violence is waiting that can change your life forever. And whether we want to admit it or not, it is at those times when we need someone who is willing to cross the line of what is technically, or morally, right and wrong. But with that comes the risk that the world can be so dark…and so compromised…that there can be no escape, no chance for happiness. So in my search for the hero I most admire…in my search for the definition of what a hero is…the one thing I realized is that I will eventually have to make certain, choices that will define me and my life. Or maybe I already have and don’t even recognize them yet. But I guess I don’t have to worry about it too much because of all the people in the everyday lives…in the news…in sports…in law enforcement…teachers…musicians…and yes, larger than life superheroes…all the people who stand for something bigger than ourselves. For me only one man…a man I have never met…has given me words to live by that I know I have to hold my life up to. I know they are the words that define a hero…that with great power comes great responsibility."

My generation's irony: so bad it's not good?

All we say and do is lacquered with sarcasm. We don't take anything seriously, and yet we take everything seriously

• Darragh McManus
• guardian.co.uk, Thursday 11 March 2010 14.30 GMT

Would you knowingly buy a lunchbox featuring this car? Photograph: Michael Buckner/Getty Images

Recently, my brother and I were gently teasing our father about how cool he was looking in his argyle-patterned cardigan. He said to my brother's wife: "I never know with these two if they're being serious or not."

And a weird realisation struck me: a lot of the time, neither do I.

This is the curse, gift and defining characteristic of my generation: irony. My dad's generation, and those before him, were sincere: they meant what they said and said what they meant.

But by the time I was born, in the 1970s, some detached, too-cool Left Bank intellectual had taken a break from his doctorate in semiotics to invent postmodernism, and we were doomed to a world of irony.

We grew up with it and in it. We swam in its invisible currents, like a school of bizarre fish wearing stylishly outmoded spectacles and T-shirts of long-forgotten cartoons. Irony was our amniotic fluid, our mother's milk, our Knight Rider lunchbox (that we keep, tragically, as a totem of nostalgia – another crucial strand of Gen X DNA).

Because of an ever-more self-reflexive culture and generational mores, we see everything through the prism of postmodernism. We like – or pretend to like, and to us it's virtually the same thing – big-hair metal, daytime soaps, Dr Phil, Diff'rent Strokes reruns, jokes that are funny because they're deliberately unfunny, bad acting, bad special effects, bad anything so long as it's bad enough. (One exception, though: we want good-quality literature.)

Our uniform is the ironic T-shirt; even better if the slogan across the chest adds an extra layer of self-reference, a sartorial wink and nod to the audience of our peers: "You are not reading this T-shirt." Arf, arf.

Since before we existed, irony has been seeping through the culture, percolating down like the strong coffee we prefer to alcohol because booze is so lame and mainstream – to the extent that, by now, we're never entirely sure when we mean something or not.

As usual, The Simpsons captures it best. Two slackers at Hullabalooza (a pitch-perfect allusion to Lollapalooza, travelling Mecca of Gen X's devotion). One says: "Here comes that cannonball guy. He's cool." His friend asks, "Are you being sarcastic, dude?", and gets the forlorn response: "I don't even know anymore."

Did I really think my pop's cardigan was nice? Dude, I don't even know anymore.

Our parents don't get this; they literally wouldn't understand what's funny about something that you know, absolutely, isn't funny. Generation gap? It's more like a whole different species.

But it gets worse: we're sincere in our insincerity, thus confusing the matter to proportions so Byzantine it couldn't be teased out by an intellectual tag-team of Steven Hawking and King Solomon.

I'll enjoy Steven Seagal's KillFist of DeathPunch IV as part of some knowing, ironic joke to myself – I realise it's rubbish, and that's the point – but at the same time part of me will genuinely enjoy it. We'll mock someone for trying to save the world but we truly want them to save the world.

Everything is a pseudo-apathetic pose, a wry jibe, for Generation X; everything we say and do is lacquered with the bitter patina of sarcasm. We're ironic and infantile and don't take anything seriously, and yet we take everything seriously.

We're as glum, idealistic and sincere as you could get – sometimes to extremes. Our godhead is Kurt Cobain, who in interviews displayed a sardonic playfulness and mocked his image as a doomy depressive, but ultimately killed himself because the world was inauthentic.

All of which is very disorientating when you're trying to work out if you really meant that compliment about your father's cardigan. Like, I did mean it. But I didn't. But I did and didn't at the same time.

Not that it matters, anyway. Dude, I'm being sarcastic. I probably don't mean any of this. Even though I do. Maybe. If you follow me.

from: http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2010/mar/11/generation-x-sarcasm-seriously

Don’t fear the reaper.

The past two weeks, 2 of my friends passed away. One of them actually passed away this morning.

Death makes you think about a lot of things actually. How you never really know when you’re time’s coming up, when the reaper’s gonna come knocking on your door. Or even how long you’ve got left.

Death has always been a sad thing for me. I could never really handle death well. Just the thought of it can actually bring me to tears. Nothing scares me more than death actually.

But one thing I realized was that…you can see death in two different ways. You can let it hold you back, trying to escape it, though in the end…it will all be but futile. Or, you can let death drive you. Make the most of every single day that you’re here. Live, live life, live free with the top of your car down, wind blowing through your hair, living free.

One quote comes to mind. It’s from the movie Troy, with Brad Pitt. The quote was from the scene where he was talking to Briseis and he tells her something after he finds out that she’s a priestess. The quote goes: “I'll tell you a secret. Something they don't teach you in your temple. The Gods envy us. They envy us because we're mortal, because any moment might be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we're doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again.”

Because we’re doomed…everything is more beautiful. Because we’re mortal, any moment could be our last. Because we’re mortal, we will never be lovelier, more beautiful than we are now because we will never be here again.

One thing I don’t regret about those 2 friends of mine who just passed away was that they lived. They lived life. Though they died at very unreasonable ages, the fact of the matter is that the fact that they lived life…did what they wanted.

We will all go. As some people say, there are only two constant things in life, death and taxes. We will all go, that’s a given. But what matters most is what we do with the life we’re given, no matter how long or short it is. Live life to its fullest.

All our times have come,
Here- but now there- gone.

Seasons don’t fear the reaper
Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain
We can be like they are
Come on, baby
Don’t fear the reaper

This post is dedicated to two people. Jet Concepcion (1971 – 2009) and Tara Santelices (1985 – 2009) who’re currently knock, knock, knockin’ on heaven’s door.

I’ll miss you guys.

Friends…

Some people take the word friend lightly. To them, a friend is someone you can follow on twitter, add on facebook, multiply and even friendster. To some, friends are people who you have small conversations with…but friends are much more than that.

Friends are friends till the very end. No matter what goes between them, they’ll always be friends. Though friends may fight and not speak to one another for years and years…but deep down, they know they’re friends.

Friends are funny things actually. They make their friends’ problems their own. They make their successes, their own successes; their failures, their failures as well. Whatever your friend achieves, you achieve as well.

Friends are the type of people who’d ask you how you’re feeling when you’re sick. They’re the type of people that would drive to wherever you are in the middle of the night, just to sit next to you and stare into space. Friends are the type of people who, when they find out you’re sad…drive up to your house with a cooler filled with beer. Friends are the type of people you could sit and talk about anything and everything with…something profound like the meaning of life, or even just where butterflies go when it rains.

But what matters most in a friendship…is how you treat it. You care for it…like a baby, a puppy, or something very dear to you…it’ll grow and grow into a mighty red oak tree. However, if you treat it badly…it’ll just wither up and die.

I have a friend. She’s having problems right now and thinking about doing something rash. But I made a promise to her 2 years ago…where if one of us leaves; we don’t leave the other one behind. Both go, or no one goes. And now…she’s thinking about leaving…and I’d leave with her. I honestly will. We’re buddies, friends…who won’t leave each other behind at the first sign of danger. We’ll stick to each other like glue.

Sometimes, friends do rash things like that. Whether it be resigning just like that…or even just driving 2 hours through traffic to deliver you food when you’re not feeling well. Or even doing something incredibly stupid and humiliating like play dance dance revolution with the whole world watching.

Friends don’t care if something makes them look stupid…as long as it’s important to that friend of theirs, they’d do it. No questions asked…though sometimes, it takes a bottle or two to do the trick.

Friends are friends no matter what. Through thick and thin, during the best of times and even the worst of times. When the shit hits the fan, or when the day is as beautiful as your smile…your friend(s) would be right there with you…till the very end.

This is dedicated to two people…you guess who you are.

Parenting

Look at the world around you, people being mugged, raped, murdered…some for good reasons while others, just for the heck of it.

War is currently going on in the Middle East, Political Turmoil currently happening in a number of countries, distrust among friends, loved ones, neighbors.

We currently live in a world where everyone is afraid of everyone. You walk along the street and see someone dubious and you automatically think that that person is out there to get you…and 50% of the time, you’re possibly right.

As you found out from my earlier post, a friend of mine got mugged earlier last week. She’s this really trusting girl, not a bad thing to say about anyone and sees the world through rose-tinted glasses…and look what happened to her. At this point, you ask “why do good things happen to bad people?” And, the only answer I can give you for that is coz, “The world’s just fucked up that way.”

Looking at the world around you, seeing all the crap that’s going on, would you imagine bringing a life into a world such as this? A world of chaos and disarray, of disease and famine, of war and turmoil, and of sheer fucked-up-ness? (I know…I used a lot of redundant words there but it was just to make a point). And my answer to you is yes.

Being a parent is a life sentence. I mean, everybody wants to have a baby. That’s stupid, I mean…all their failures automatically become your failures. So if they screw up, do drugs, steal, murder, rape…it’s automatically your fault. No one else’s.

Any normal person would tell you “I’m afraid to bring in a life into the world we live in, it’s just so wrong *whine*” But as some of you know, I’m not normal…I’m screwed up.

You see, when you’re born…you’re pure, unspoiled and trusting. Some say that’s the only time you’re perfect. But, you’re also covered in blood and placenta, but no one’s really sentimental about that bit. However, as you grow older, that’s when things start to go screwy. You get betrayed, get your heart broken, get influenced by the “bad elements”, meet the neighborhood psycho and all that…but it’s your job as a parent to protect them from it.

You come into this world totally defenseless. A bundle of soft, toothless cartilage that can’t roll over, focus or hold in its own spit. And while you’re lying there helpless, a doctor comes in and chops off the end of your penis. Who’s a happy baby? Who is? Who is?

And because they’re defenseless, they need someone to protect them…and that’s where the role of a parent comes in. And you may think that you’re ready…

Before you can protect others, you have to be able to protect yourself. So preservation is the most natural of all instincts. I mean, that’s why your arms are this length *stretches out arms* so you can cover your head. Or else, you’d have arms the length of what dinosaurs had that are just up to here *imitates a T-Rex*…I mean, why do you think the dinosaurs died?

It’s up to us to protect our children, no matter what; from a bully in school, to a stalker or a homicidal maniac. I mean, who gives a fuck if it’s their fault it started, It’s our duty as parents to protect them.

I mean sure, they can go “Look here old man! *voice breaks* I’m not a kid anymore Uuuurr I’m an adult and I can do whatever I want!” But, I mean…they’re kids. What the fuck do they know. It’s our job as adults to know what’s good for them, even if they don’t know themselves. It’s our job to get in their business no matter what.

We’re here to protect them, no matter what. From all the muggers, rapists, murderers, stalkers, cult leaders, drug pushers, “evil elements”…because, they’re our children. Even if they break our hearts, do something incredibly idiotic and stupid that would break our hearts, have sex and get pregnant while in school, get caught for pushing drugs, or something…we’ll still protect them.

So yeah, I still want to have kids, 2 boys and 1 girl. And I’m going to raise them up and take care of them, not only because I have to…but because I want to.

I’m going to be their protector, and for them…I’ll have a baseball bat ready and waiting labeled “Justice” just for that specific moment in time.

We come into this world defenseless. That’s why God gave us baseball bats…well, He gave us trees but…we know what he meant *wink*.

Being a parent is a life sentence. From the day that kid is born, till the day you die. So I just want to say…Thanks Mom & Dad…for putting up with me all these years and for all the crap I've put you through.

How about you? Have you told your parents thank you?

Power

...People often wonder why Spider-man's so screwed up. I mean, he's a guy who just takes on all these psychos more often than not getting beaten to a bloody pulp in the process, but still comes back for more. I mean sure, maybe the dude's this big masochist but...you really think so?

A friend of mine got mugged last night (April 28, 2009) a couple of steps from the entrance of her condominium. Mid-last year, another friend of mine got injured trying to get away from another mugger. August 31, 1999...my grandfather past away due to cancer. 20 years ago, I saw my best friend...bubbles the shitzu get run over right before my 4 year-old eyes. And the list goes on and on and on...

Spider-man does seem like a fool right? Swinging around, cracking jokes left and right...trying to land a punch or two. He sure does seem like a fool...I mean look, where can a Spider win against:

1. a scorpion
2. a chameleon
3. a goblin
4. another goblin that's green
5. a vulture
6. an octopus
7. sand?
8. some black alien goo
(and the list goes on)

But, look the line "with great power comes great responsibility" comes in. So he does this because he feels that he has to? That since he's gifted with this power, he should save others around him? Is it just that? I mean...technically I have great power, graduating from prestigious schools, coming from a well-off family, working at a place that can make a lot of difference...but does that make me responsible for everything out there?

You see, the reason why Spider-man fights against the odds, performs herculean tasks over and over again is because he's protecting those that he loves; Aunt May, Mary Jane, Harry Osbourne and so on and so forth. And after being bullied growing up, watching his Uncle Ben die in front of his eyes, failing to save Gwen Stacy from the Green Goblin...he demanded power...he needed power to help protect those that he loved. Whether it be joining with an alien goo, asking Tony Stark to give him a new costume...and even making a deal with the devil himself, just to protect those that he loves.

You see, if I was the only one I was responsible for...I'd do crazy shit like jump off a bridge with a bungee chord, sky-dive, base-jump, drag race...but no. I have loved ones of my own. Loved ones that I want to protect. Loved ones that I'm willing to die for, and break out of hell again and again for. I mean, if I'm in danger, I could get away. I could duck, I could run, I could serpentine. But if the people I love are in danger, what if I couldn't protect them? All I could do is worry.

Spider-man, no...Peter Parker wanted power so he could be something, so that the bullies would stop, so that the girl would fall for him...but after seeing his Uncle Ben die...he wanted power for another reason altogether. He wanted power so he could protect his loved ones...so that none of them would ever feel in danger. So that none of them would ever feel fear.

And I wanted power. So I could've protected my friends who were getting mugged. So I could've saved my grandfather from cancer. So I could've stopped that car from running bubbles over. I wanted power. I want power so I could stop my friends and family from getting hurt. I want power so that they don't have to feel fear from just walking outside their homes, or feel fear from just being in a densely crowded area. I want power so I could protect them.

But just as Spider-man, Peter Parker learned...even though you have the power, even though you can fight the forces of evil...there are still some that you cannot help...you cannot save. Like Uncle Ben, like Gwen Stacy...Like Aunt May. And like him, I know that I cannot save everyone...I couldn't save my friends from being mugged, I couldn't save my grandfather from cancer...I couldn't save bubbles from that car.

But just like Spider-man, just like Peter Parker...I'm not going to stop trying. I'll protect my friends, my family, my loved ones. I'll protect them with everything that I have and am, and with all the power that I have within me. I'll take on Doc Ock, Sandman, Electro, Vulture, Chameleon, Scorpion, Hobgoblin, Green Goblin, Carnage, Venom, Shocker and King Pin if I have to. Even if I get beaten to a bloody pulp. Even if I'd be an inch from death...I'd fight. Because it's no longer just about me...but it's also about all of you.

I want power.

I'll be taking a break from typing in this blog for a while given certain events in my life right now.

Those, I'll be chronicling in another blog http://nik-paradiselost.blogspot.com

Hope you guys check that one out instead.

Commitment in HCMC

Commitment

com⋅mit⋅ment
   /kəˈmɪtmənt/ kuh-mit-muhnt]
–noun
1. the act of committing.
2. the state of being committed.
3. the act of committing, pledging, or engaging oneself.
4. a pledge or promise; obligation: We have made a commitment to pay our bills on time.
5. engagement; involvement: They have a sincere commitment to religion.

One thing we’ve been doing here in HCMC was cross roads a lot. According to numerous briefings we’ve had prior to the trip, people would often tell us that when we cross the street, we mustn’t stop in the middle but go through with it all the way. In other words, commit yourself to crossing the street and you’ll come out safe the other way. Don’t stray, don’t falter…just walk your course and you’ll reach the end of the road.

However, looking back…there was also another form of commitment that I’ve been doing. Before leaving, I made a promise to someone to take care of a friend of mine. She told me to make sure nothing happened to her. Though I’ve been doing my best to keep the promise, it seems that I’m slowly failing.

What does it mean to commit? Is it just to pledging, committing, or even engaging oneself to something? Is it just that? Or is there something more involved?

To some, commitment just entails words and some action. However, what some don’t understand/comprehend is that commitment also entails mental & emotional commitment as well. When we commit, we have to give ourselves whole. We don’t say something and after a while change our minds. We don’t say something and do the complete opposite right after.

When you commit yourself to someone, you give yourself fully. You don’t just say things and not truly feel them. You don’t just do things just because you feel like it. You do and say things because you truly believe in them. You don’t tell someone you care about them at one point and then at other points you just don’t give a damn. You don’t tell someone you love them one minute but go after the next pretty face that walks by. You don’t just care about someone fully one minute and the next act so cold and harsh towards them. Be true to them, at the same time, be true to yourself. Though the commitment may not be mutual between two people, as long as you don't stray, you don't falter...everything will be alright.

Love, care, enjoy, commit...fully.

Lying here with a really bad gastritis attack, I lie and ponder…in Ho Chi Minh City, I reflect on commitment and what it really means.

If I had my own world...

SECRET CROWDS

written by Angels and Airwaves

If I had my own world,
I’d build you an empire.

If I had my own world,
I’d fill it with wealth and desire.
A glorious past to admire,
And voices of kids out walking dogs, birds, planes, cleanest cars.

If I had my own world,
I’d love it for all that’s inside it.
There’d be no more wars, death or riots.
There’d be no more police, packed-parking lots, guns, bombs sounding off.

If I had my own world,
I’d build you an empire.
From here to the far lands,
To spread love like violence.

If I had my own world,
I’d build you an empire.
From here to the far lands,
To spread love like violence.

Let me feel you, carry you higher.
Watch your words spread hope like fires.
Secret crowds rise up and gather.
Hear your voices sing back louder.

If I had my own world,
I’d show you the life that’s inside it.
The way that it glows when you find it.
And the way it survives with its families, friends or its enemies.

Let’s make this a new world.
I swear you can go if you want to.
I know that you have that within you.
Inventing the first clean and useable, gods greatest miracle.

If I had my own world,
I’d build you an empire.
From here to the far lands,
To spread love like violence.

If I had my own world,
I’d build you an empire.
From here to the far lands,
To spread love like violence.

Let me feel you, carry you higher.
Watch your words spread hope like fires.
Secret crowds rise up and gather.
Hear your voices sing back louder.

Let me feel you, carry you higher.
Watch your words spread hope like fires.
Secret crowds rise up and gather.
Hear your voices sing back louder.

Let me feel you, carry you higher.
Watch your words spread hope like fires.
Secret crowds rise up and gather.
Hear your voices sing back louder.

Let me feel you, carry you higher.
Watch your words spread hope like fires.
Secret crowds rise up and gather.
Hear your voices sing back louder.

2008 in hindsight…


A year starts the same way every year; with the clock ticking, one second at a time…finally reaching the 12 marker. With all the explosions and varied colored lights, lighting up the dark smoke filled night sky, one may easily forget that a year has ended and a new year has arrived. Sitting on a chair, with a cigarette in hand…I try and look back at the year that was…and look towards the year that will be.

2008 started just as any other year…but I knew that as soon as I stepped into the office, changes were coming. I remember my first partner. It was gonna be her last week in the office since she decided to pursue a Masters Degree abroad…and that I’d be having a new boss by the end of that week. I was still continuing a nightmare project I was given the year prior…and much like everything…I felt despair. I was also given two nightmare accounts. A car manufacturer and a tel-co…two of the most demanding type of accounts there are and I knew that to be able to survive…I’d need to grow, both as an AE and as a person.

A couple of months later, my first boss and other partner also decided to leave, starting a trend of resignations and a massive organizational restructure in the agency…but of course…I wasn’t touched. Still handling pretty much the same accounts I was months prior and realizing that I still have a lot to learn.

But not all things were bad. Though things were getting tougher, harder for me…I was able to meet someone. Though we knew each other for close to a year, we only started getting close then and there. And when things started going badly for me…I knew that it was okay coz I met a new friend who I knew would be my friend for a long time.

Towards the latter part of the year, things started looking up. I was doing really well in the office and my new friend and I were getting closer and closer. And right then and there, I knew that it couldn’t get any better than that. A trip to the mountains, Ramon Roquetta and Machego Cheese, Grandburgers, Wall-E, House of the Dead, James Bond, Twilight, Krispy Kreme runs…Magic Moments and Nocturnal Sunshine.

And before I knew it…the year was ending. Just like that, snap…the year went by. Faster than anyone could’ve imagined.

I light another cigarette.

The year ends, pretty much the same way the year begins. If a year begins in turmoil, towards the end of the year…turmoil begins yet again. One of the things that I regret the most was this argument my friend and I had. I knew that I had something great, something wonderful…but I just had to ruin it. Took me a while to realize what I did, took me a while to realize what I needed to do. It took me a while to realize what I may have lost.

Things may not be the same again…I know that…but I don’t want to believe it. I don’t want to accept it…but I know that I have to.

The year begins…with me sitting on a bench, with a bottle of vodka a plastic glass with melted ice in it…sitting next to one of my dearest friends…staring at green-lit stairs. I know I screwed up. I screwed up big time. But I look forward.

2009 has started, though I would’ve like it to start on better terms, I know that the year to come is in my hands. There’s a whole lot of stuff I need to learn. A whole lot of stuff I need to realize and work on. I look towards the year to come and I know that things may and will be different. There are a lot of things I regret doing, but there are more things I wouldn’t change in the year that passed.

I look forward to more Krispy Kreme runs, more Ramon Roquettas and Machego Cheeses. I look forward to more Grandbugers and trips out of town. I look forward to more Magic Moments and Nocturnal Shunshine.

I look forward, not in despair, but in hope. I look forward and the see the world looking back at me. Slowly, with hesitation…I put one foot forward. Realizing that I’m standing over the edge and that I cannot go back. I put one foot forward. Slowly letting go of the year that was and leap into the arms of the year that will be. And as I fall into the abyss, tread forward into tomorrow…I know that this will be the year. This is the moment. There’s no looking back now. There’s no turning back, no going back. This is me, with a cigarette in hand. This is me.

Somebody save me. Please.

Today might be the saddest day of my life. Up to the typing of this blog entry, I’ve cried over 4 times. I know it sounds weird and all, “Nikki Del Carmen, crying? WTF dude?!”

I know…it sounds unlikely but…it’s true. You know that feeling when you have something you hold dear so much, something that may mean more to you that everything else in the world? That something, that you’re willing to do anything and everything for. Well…remember that feeling. Hold that feeling deep inside you. Then, in a blink of an eye…destroy it with your own bare hands.

That’s what happened to me today. I had something so beautiful, something so nice in my hands…but I kept on poking and poking, kept on fidgeting with it and before I knew it, I broke it…before anything could’ve came out of it. It was nothing certain. It could’ve been something or nothing at all. But what it was at that moment…was great. But due to the stubbornness, the stupidity as well as the various emotions surging…that something may have become nothing.

I want to turn back time. I want to keep things from ending up like this. I didn’t want…don’t want to lose it. I don’t want it to go away. I want to fix it, no matter what it takes. People tell me to go away and leave it alone…but I can’t. If ever…I don’t want it to end like this. I don’t want everything to be over. I don’t want anything to be over. I want things just the way they were.

Bottom line is that I’m an idiot. I’m a fucking asshole, a bastard. And because of it…I destroyed something beautiful…before it had the possibility of it being something better. I’m an idiot. I’m stupid. I’m lying in bed not knowing what to do or what to say. I’m sitting in the darkness that seems to surround me even closer now, no light at the end of the tunnel, no sign of hope whatsoever…but I don’t want it to end. I don’t want it to end. I don’t want it to end. Even if it means sitting here in the dark by myself, sitting here all alone…waiting for the light to come back.

Somebody save me. Please. Why is it so hard to build something so beautiful, so great…but have it easily broken…by just a simple gesture, a simple word…something. Anything. Why? Why does it hurt like this? Why does it have to be like this? Why?

Somebody save me. Please. Somebody hold my hand because I’m scared. I’m sitting here…crying in the dark with no one to smile at me, no one to say hi, no one to tell me “hey, it’s okay.” No one to give me a hug to tell me everything’s gonna be alright. Because…I’m an idiot. Because I’m an asshole. Because I’m not worth anything anymore.

Somebody save me. Please. I don’t want to be strong anymore. I don’t want to keep pretending that everything about me, everything in my life is great when in truth…it’s not. And the one thing that was going so well…is not there anymore because I was such an idiot to break it. I want to break down. I want to just fall into someone’s arms and not leave. I don’t like this. Not one bit. I don’t like this. Not one bit.

Somebody save me. Please. Why does it have to be like this? Why does it have to hurt so much. I didn’t want this to happen. Not now, not ever. Why do I have to be so stupid? Why can’t I listen?

Somebody save me. Please.

The heart of darkness…

People wonder why it is that people commit murder. More often than not, people believe that murders are committed due to emotional outburst, snapping, or even out of necessity. However, there is one reason that people fail to conceive, or better yet…don’t want to believe; the fact that they murder other people…because they can.

Look at serial killers. Sometimes, criminal profilers associate serial killers to do whatever it is they do, due to a rooted psychological trauma that was experienced earlier on. Take for example, one of the better known serial killers, Jack the Ripper. Jack the Ripper would go around the streets of London killing prostitutes right there on the streets. Though, his true identity is still a mystery, one of the more popular theories as to why he did it, was that he was beaten and abused as a child by his mother…and saw prostitutes who were pregnant as representations of his mother…and an inner urge for revenge drove him to murder them.

However, as I said earlier, one reason people do not acknowledge as to why…is “just because”. Probably, the reason why, is that deep down inside, people are optimistic. Deep down inside, they’re afraid…and if they do acknowledge the fact that there are people who murder just for the sake of murdering…then they accept that evil does indeed exist. People who can murder a living thing in cold blood…for no other reason whatsoever than just wanting to…may indeed be the embodiment of evil; evil incarnate, if you will. People love living in shells, living with shrouds over their faces believing whatever it is they want to believe, yet not seeing the truth. They want to be comforted, they want to be safe…and in doing so, live with blinders on.

Men and women have the potentiality for evil. Whatever way you see things: Religiously, seen through the first sin…our capacity/capability to commit sin; historically, the countless genocides as well as massacres all throughout history dating back from pre-Greek era up to modern times; scientifically, seen through the discovery of the “evil gene”.

We are capable of doing evil. Everyone must realize that. Everyone should acknowledge that fact. One thing though that we can do…is choose not to do evil. Everything is a choice for us. Sure, we have the potential to commit evil deeds, or become evil, however we have the power, the freedom to choose otherwise. It is our responsibility as human beings, to choose to do good. These people who believe themselves as evil, or acknowledge that they are evil believe that they have no choice in the matter. That they are evil and that there is nothing they can do about it. They are wrong. Everyone still has a choice. We still can choose. There is no crossing the Rubicon, there is no point of no return. Everyone can still reconcile, everyone can still make amends. Everyone can still choose. Choose, to do good.

Ramon Roquetta and the Machegos…

Sometimes, just sitting back, letting time take you is the best way to spend a night. Relaxing is something that we often forget to do. Nowadays, people often go out and party, dance, and god knows what. Not really savoring the evening, more like making the night pass by faster.

People have been moving quickly each day, thinking of nothing but deadlines as well as requirements. Given the stressful environment they are constantly in, people want the days, the hours to go by faster…wanting the day to end so that the weekend would come sooner. People nowadays don’t stop and admire the clear blue sky. They don’t stop and smell the flowers. They don’t just sit down close their eyes and take a deep breath.

Because they speed things up, they fail to notice the finer details in life. Small details like the perfume of the girl sitting next to you, the new pair of shoes your boss is wearing, or that pretty girl sitting across you. The fact that we miss some of the finer details makes us miss out on a lot of things…whether it be information or something that’s been staring at us right in our faces but just failed to notice it.

What I’m saying is…SLOW DOWN. We’re only given one chance to be here on this world (unless of course you believe in reincarnation or something like that). Imagine this, we’re all given a limited time here, (don’t say it isn’t true coz come on, we’re all frickin’ dying) and the fact that you make time move faster means the sooner it is till you die.

So, in light of what I just said…SLOW DOWN. Savor the moment. Live life to the fullest, carpe diem and all that. Sit down, have a bottle of wine, in a candle-lit place, with a close friend and just sit down and talk. And when the alcohol finally kicks in, have a cup of coffee in the rain and see the beauty and the peacefulness of the world that is around you. Basically, a night of Ramon Roquetta and Machego Cheese.

Of Robot Love, Zombies & Gummi Bears...

Earlier this evening (Sunday, August 17, 2008), met up with a friend. It was supposed to be a dinner, but ended up something much more. It was a night of self discovery via a "birthday book", enlightenment, i-ching, saving the world from zombies and helping two robots fall in love, while devouring a lot of gummi bears.

To be honest, this is a post that I have no idea what to write about. Given usual circumstances, I'd be ranting or talking about a realization about something. However, tonight...I’ll be winging it.

I learned a lot of things tonight. Most of it happened during the first part of the evening. I was browsing through a “birthday personality” book. According to it, my life is like an eye of the storm, though calm and peaceful within, surrounding it is turmoil and chaos. Thinking about it, I realized that it could be true. Thinking back, a lot of things around me have been screwing up. Based on it, it says that my life is doomed to begin with. Whatever I would have built, whatever relationships I have…will all end in ruin. But you know what I think? Fuck that shit. I won’t let a book tell me how to live my life or who I am. I decide what I do and when I do it. I know who I am. I am me. (Confused yet? Don’t worry, you will be.)

Even if the book was right about me, being a lost cause and all…all I know is that I love fighting losing battles. If robots like EVE and WALL-E can fight their “Directive” and do what they know, what they feel is right for them, why can’t I? And all I know…is that if I set my mind to it, if I dare…I will win, just as how I finished House of the Dead 4 with my friend earlier tonight.

I should just trust my instincts, close my eyes and leap. And once I do, no one can ever pull me down.

So, this is what I want to ask of you. Are you ready to take your life into your own hands? Fight everything? What people tell you who you are, what people think of you? Will you take my hand, and fight for something you want. Will you take my hand, and finally believe…in who you are, in who you can be, who you will be? Thus, freeing yourself from the “False” you, and finally letting the “True” you out. Finally being able to live free, where they’ll never bring us down.

1 year later...

It's been a year since I graduated. 1 year since school life became nothing but a woken dream. 1 year since my last finals, 1 year since my last cut, 1 year since my last formal education.

To normal people, 1 year is something that's really long. A lot can happen in a year. In a year, one can find a new love, one can find a new career, one could be born while another could die. A lot has happened the past year since I finally stepped into the real world. And in that 1 year, there was one thing that I did learn...THE REAL WORLD SUCKS.

The past year, I've done civil service work, I've made as well as lost friends. I've found a career that I love. I've been to places I've never been to before, seen things I've never seen. I've been reunited with long lost friends, as well as met some of the greatest people one can ever meet in a lifetime. I've gotten my heart broken, said goodbye too many times. I've been at the top of the world, at the top of my game, only to have it easily ripped out from under me. I've beet at my best, and I've been at my worst. Quoting that old Pizza Hut TV commercial introducing their new thin crust pizza called "the Edge" *ahem* "I have been to the edge and back."

Now it comes to that point in the story where I reflect on the things that happened the past year, all the learnings, insights as well as incites (no pun intended). And one thing remains true to this day...THE REAL WORLD SUCKS.

During school, you knew what you had to do to get by. You knew that at the end of the day, all you needed to do was pass. All you needed to do was submit your homework, pass the quiz or at the very least, show up for class most of the time. However, here, now in the real world, it's not like that. You don't know if you're doing okay till it's too late. You don't know if you're earning enough to get by till you finally get that eviction notice from your landlord.

You see, in the real world, your grades and how well you did in class and how much you sucked up won't really matter. Sure, you could've gotten straight-As, all your teachers loved you, voted class valedictorian or something but when push comes to shove, your transcript won't do jack shit for you. In the real world, all it comes down to is what you're made of. Getting up after being kicked repeatedly on the ground. Bouncing back, when you've fallen and so on and so forth. The real world is a dog eat dog world my friends, bretheren, countrymen. And to get by, you need nerves of steel, lava running through your veins and lastly (sorry if I'm being sexist) muy grande cojones (um..this is Spanish, so don't go all conyo and stuff by saying "co-dyo-nes").

Everyone will have crappy work days, I should know...the past few months have been really tough on me, and to think...I got into a job that I actually enjoy. Think about all those people that never learned to enjoy their work...they might be having a hell of a lot tougher time than I am, huh?

You see, no matter what happens during work, no matter what happens during the day...at the end of the day, it's only a job. When you get home, lie down, put your feet up and watch a couple of hours of cartoons, read a good book, drink, have sex, whatever lifts your boat to help you relax. When you have days where nothing good happens...when you step out of the office/hospital/classroom or whatever, look up, SCREAM IN YOUR HEAD: "I'M (enter name here), I LIVE FOR THIS SHIT". Start playing "Eye of the Tiger" by the Survivors in your head...coz you should never say die. Coz when you say die, you're already over and done with since you gave up. Never say die, iron eagle. Never look back, never say die. And when you fight on, and persevere, you're no longer on your way to the danger zone. You're already IN the danger zone. Wearing your flight suit, with Goose as your wingman and Iceman covering your tail.

You're the voice, try and understand it. Make a noise and make it clear. We're not going to sit in silence, we're not going to live in fear.

Days will be tough my friend. And sometimes, you find yourself with your back to the wall, and you have nowhere else to go. But you have to hold on...for one more day. And things will go your way if you hold on for one more day.

I don't think I have anything else more to say. Towards the end, I did nothing but babble on about this and that, but maybe, just maybe...one of you got my point. So this I say to you..*ahem* "Carry on my wayward son. There'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest. Don't you cry no more."

PS
I made a shitload of obscure pop-culture references there towards the end. They're in this order:

1. The Survivors - Eye of the Tiger
2. King Kobra - Never Say Die
3. Kenny Loggins - Dangerzone
4. Top Gun (Goose was Tom Cruise' wingman and Iceman was Val Kilmer whose "flying is as cool as ice")
5. John Farnham - You're the Voice
6. Wilson Philips - Hold On
7. Kansan - Carry on my Wayward Son

Four Brothers...

This is a story about four young men, John, Frederic, Jose and Michel. These four, though not related by blood, are as close as if they were blood brothers.

They have been friends for the longest time. Some of them new each other since prep, nursery even in a little school in San Juan called Xavier. Through the years they drifted apart, though as if by chance...these four were again reunited one summer in 2002. All four of them enlisted in a summer teaching program called PKK (Para Kay Kiko). The school year after that, they became good friends yet again. Hanging out from time to time, visiting each other in their respective classrooms (mostly 4-E because it was right in-between 4-D and 4-F) and talking about God knows what, from guitars to the newest games. From the crappy long test they just had to how hot the new substitute English teacher was.

At one point, some if not all of them mentioned going into the life of the cloth, following an unexpected death of a priest and a visit to the Holy Spirit Novitiate in Nova Liches for the said priest's burial. But due to other plans and the rise of necessity, each of them had to choose other paths.

Come March 2003 these four friends would again find themselves disbanded. 1 of the four went on to take up Nursing in Trinity College, while the other 3 went to Ateneo De Manila University, however though going to the same school, each of them went to different schools as well. Frederic went into the School of Management, John went into the School of Social Sciences while Michel went into the School of Humanities.

During the start of College, 3 of the 4 still met on a regular basis due to a tradition in Xavier called Days with the Lord because the 3 of them were part of the choir, the "Music Crew". And 3 of them also saw each other from time to time since they went to the same University. However, they haven't met as a whole for the longest time.

Years past and the gap between friends became wider and wider. Some of them didn't see the others for the longest time, yet may get glimpses of them as they walk around school, or random visits to their High School. But, things would always be different among them. Different crowds, different courses, different lives basically.

Come March 2007 marks another chapter in each of their lives. College life for them is over and done with. Basically, school life shall be nothing but a woken dream for them. But, where are these four now? It's been more than a decade since these four friends met. Some of them knew each other more than half of their lives. But, due to the no communication, due to the drifting away farther and farther each year these four have little to no contact with each other.

The funny thing is...the reason why these four were initially reunited on that hot summer day in 2002 could be the main factor in their lives today. That reason is a sense of social involvement. Basically, doing whatever he can do to help out, no matter how little the help is.

Four friends, four brothers. All living totally different lives, going in totally different directions, still keeping some old values close to heart. Four friends, four brothers...Doing what they can, wherever they can.

John is now a Guidance Councilor for Grade 6 at Xavier School. He spends most of his time online, and still keeps in contact with Michel from time to time because of Yahoo Messenger.

Frederic is now a Jesuit Volunteer teaching in Palawan. His only means of communication is through text. He'll be stationed in Palawan for 10 months. Michel wonders from time to time how he's doing and finally got the urge to text him after how many weeks.

Jose is is a Nurse, just chillin waiting to make his next move.

Michel works in an advertising agency, though things seem fine at times, there are times he wants nothing more but to just hang out, chill and bond with the other 3.

Four Friends, Four Brothers, Four Directions, Four Lives.

*This entry is dedicated to Tung Yu, Lippy the Hippie, and Jolo.

Stranger than fiction…

Narrator: “This is a story about a man named Harold Crick and his wristwatch. Harold Crick was a man of infinite numbers, endless calculations, and remarkably few words. And his wristwatch said even less. Every weekday, for twelve years, Harold would brush each of his thirty-two teeth seventy-six times. Thirty-eight times back and forth, thirty-eight times up and down. Every weekday, for twelve years, Harold would tie his tie in a single Windsor knot instead of the double, thereby saving up to forty-three seconds. His wristwatch thought the single Windsor made his neck look fat, but said nothing.

Every weekday, for nine years, Harold would run at a rate of nearly 57 steps per block for 6 blocks, nearly missing the 8:17 Faraday Bus. His wristwatch would delight in the feeling of the crisp wind rushing over its face. And every weekday, for nine years, Harold would complete 7.134 tax files as a senior auditor for the Internal Revenue Service…only taking 45.7 minute lunch break and a 4.3 minute coffee break. Timed precisely by his wristwatch.

Beyond that, Harold lived a life of solitude. Harold would walk home alone…He would eat alone…And at precisely 11:13 every night, Harold would go to bed alone, placing his wristwatch to rest on the nightstand beside him…That was of course before Wednesday….On Wednesday, Harold’s wristwatch changed everything.”

What would you do if all of a sudden, you could hear a voice narrating your life? Only you can hear the voice, and the voice can’t hear you. The voice going on and on; not letting you concentrate, do everyday tasks without that awkward feeling at the back of your head, making you feel like you’ve gone insane? What if one day, the voice slips? One day the voice said something about your imminent death in the near future? What would you do? Would you simply dismiss the voice as a mere figment of your imagination? Or…would you try and do everything in your power to figure out what the hell is going on?

This is what happened to Harold. On that faithful Wednesday morning, he awoke to a voice narrating his life. But on one afternoon, the voice said that he would then follow fate to his imminent demise. Being a human being, given reason and freedom…Harold did what every normal person being ensnared in a cage of helplessness would do given that same predicament. Figure out a way to stop it. Though after much hard work and perseverance, Harold realized that there was nothing he could do. Fate was no longer within his hands.

Knowing that you would die pretty soon, what would you do? Much like the question if you knew you were going to die in 24 hours, what would you do kind of thing. What Harold did…was live. Letting go of his obsessive compulsive behaviors, jumping out of the box and basically “living” Harold had the best days of his life.

Narrator: “122 guitars. 732 strings. 257 pickups. 189 volume knobs. Here Harold stood, face to face with his oldest desire…and stand is almost all Harold did. It wasn’t just about finding a guitar…it was about finding guitar that said something about Harold. (Harold picks up a black Les Paul guitar with a rose emblazoned on its body). Unfortunately this guitar said “When I get back to Georgia, that woman gonna feel my pain.” (Harold puts it back. He touches a Flying V shaped Peavy painted silver). This one said something along the lines of, “Why yes, these pants are lycra.” (Harold walks a few steps and stops at an acoustic guitar.) “I’m very sensitive, very caring and I have absolutely no idea how to play the guitar.” (Harold eyes a totally tricked out Double Neck Gibson SG with a pickup toggle, various knobs, a whammy bar and a picture of a dragon airbrushed on its façade.) “I’m compensating for something. Guess what.” (Slightly exasperated , he turns away from the wall and suddenly stops short. Across the room, under the sign that reads, “USED, SLASHED PRICES, AS IS” is a beat up old Fender Stratocaster with a chunk missing out of the top of the body. Harold smiles). And then Harold saw it: a damaged and terribly mistreated Fender staring back at him. Despite its obvious maladies, the guitar spoke with conviction and swagger. In fact, it looked Harold straight in the eye, and plainly stated, “I rock.”

With every awkward strum, despite his approaching demise, Harold felt a little more at peace. Harold no longer ate alone…He no longer counted brush strokes…He no longer worried about the time it took to put on his tie...He no longer counted his steps to the bus stop…Instead, Harold did that which had terrified him before. That which eluded him Monday thru Friday for so many years…That which the unrelenting lyrics of those numerous punk rock songs told him to do…Harold Crick lived his life. And with every strum, he became stronger in who he was, what he wanted, and why he was alive. But despite resuscitating his life, reviving his hope and developing a few wicked calluses, Harold’s journey was still incomplete. And Harold’s wristwatch wasn’t about to let him miss another opportunity…

Harold finds love…something he never really looked for. However, he knew in the end, the relationship wouldn’t last. He knew that sooner or later he’d have to leave his love not out of choice, but of necessity. However, after the numerous lovely nights, he knew he had to stay alive. And soon after, he realized he was being written as a character in a book.

He knew he had to find the author. He knew he had to convince the author that he should live. He knew he had to do it…because it was his only chance. Though after a lot of arguments, a lot of tears, a lot of reading…Harold realized that he had to die…for the story to continue.

So on the faithful day of his death…Harold got up. He brushed his teeth. He tied his tie. And Harold walked to the bus stop.

Professor Hilbert: Why?

Kay: I’m sorry?

Professor Hilbert: Why did you change it?

Kay: (pause) Lots of reasons. But…I realized I couldn’t do it.

Professor Hilbert: Because he’s real?

Kay: No. Because….(pause) It’s a book about a man who doesn’t know he’s about to die…then dies. But if a man does know he’s going to die, and dies anyway…dies willingly, knowing he could stop it…you tell me…(pause) Isn’t that the type of man you want to keep alive?

As Harold took a bite of Bavarian sugar cookie, he finally felt as if everything was going to be ok. Sometimes, when we lose ourselves in fear and despair, in routine and constancy, in hopelessness and tragedy, we can thank God for Bavarian sugar cookies. And, fortunately, when there aren't any cookies, we can still find reassurance in a familiar hand on our skin, or a kind and loving gesture, or subtle encouragement, or a loving embrace, or an offer of comfort, not to mention hospital gurneys and nose plugs, an uneaten Danish, soft-spoken secrets, and Fender Stratocasters, and maybe the occasional piece of fiction. And we must remember that all these things, the nuances, the anomalies, the subtleties, which we assume only accessorize our days, are effective for a much larger and nobler cause. They are here to save our lives. I know the idea seems strange, but I also know that it just so happens to be true. And, so it was, a wristwatch saved Harold Crick.

Face your moral fear...

I've been reading Daredevil Comics...(v2) and I came upon an interesting story. In issues 16-19 of Daredevil V2, the story didn't focus on Daredevil, but on Ben Ulrich, an investigative reporter for the Daily Bugle and a little boy named Timmy.

Timmy is the son of an obscure super villain named Leap Frog. After a traumatic experience, Timmy showed signs of Split Personality Disorder, and had a fixation on the Daredevil. After weeks of investigating, Ben Ulrich found out that Timmy was physically abused by his father, Leap Frog. Turns out, one day he caught Leap Frog fighting Daredevil on the roof of their apartment building. Leap Frog screamed at him "Get out of here, or you're next!" as he was beating up Daredevil (I know, seemed unlikely but Daredevil was distracted by Timmy showing up on the roof). So Timmy took a cut electrical wire and electrocuted his father, Leap Frog.

And Ben Ulrich writes an article about it:

This is just a story of a boy. Adults get the opportunity, eventually, to choose who they are. Children do not. Children come into this world with no say in the matter. No one asks you what kind of parents you want. No one asks you what environment you think you would do best in. You just wake up one day -- and you’re in the world. You wake up and look around you…and you see the hand that’s been dealt you. What the world has in store for you…

Contrary to popular belief, we do not live in a world of equals. Anyone who says otherwise is lying to make themselves feel superior or perhaps even inferior. Some of us have ethnic diversity. Some of us have sexual diversity. And some of us -- some of us can even fly. Some of us are Peter Pan.

In my travels as a reporter for this paper -- sometimes it feels like I have met every kind of person there is. Every kind of human diversity. But I haven’t. Every once in a while the world surprises even the most jaded -- of which I must include myself -- with someone like Timmy. Timmy was born into this world just like the rest of us…and like many of us, he has spent every single conscious moment of it trying, as best as he can, to tune it all out. Because just like the rest of us, no one asked Timmy who he would like for parents. No one asked Timmy what kind of environment he would like to live in. Certainly, no one told Timmy that sometimes life just isn’t fair. That sometimes people can be mean for no good reason. That people say they love you, can treat you badly. But most importantly, no one bothered to tell Timmy that these things are not his fault.

Many people have said to me: who cares about a guy named leap frog? And I say: certainly not I. In my moral dictionary, that man lost his membership rights to the human race a long time ago. They can leave him where they eventually found him. I care about a remarkable little boy named Timmy. And what makes him so remarkable to me? When faced with no other choice, Timmy rose up and faced his moral fear head on. He did this and he came out the other side to tell about it. And though I’ve met a lot of different types in my time, I can honestly say I don’t know a lot of people who can claim such a task. But I wish I did. I wish I was like Timmy. …and I just wanted to tell you this story.

- Ben Ulrich
The Daily Bugle

Magic…

Magic lies in the littlest things. Sometimes, when people think of magic, they think of great feats and tricks; tricks such as sawing a woman in half, making an elephant disappear, or even something tricky like guessing which card you pulled from a deck. However, for me, this isn’t what magic really is.

Maybe, some of you have heard my lecture regarding what magic is. For clarification, I’ve gotten what I know regarding magic from different sources, mainly comics and literature. Comics, such as Books of Magic, which stars Tim Hunter (please see previous post), and other great occultists in the past such as Aleister Crowley. As I have said before, magic can be seen as language. Language is very complex. Usually, when one talks about language, one thinks of words, grammar, etc. however, there is a mystical side to it. Take for example, a person from another country. You can’t really understand what he/she is telling you, however you get the gist of what they’re telling you by the tone, facial expressions and even hand gestures. You get the feel of what they’re saying just by hearing and seeing them. This can be related to magic because of the fact that meaning goes beyond language and words itself; try watching a foreign film without any subtitles and you’d be surprised that you’d more or less catch the story.

Another way how language could be seen as magic is through words. Words are very powerful things. A single word could brighten your darkest night, or darken your brightest day. With a single word, civilizations may flourish, or empires could fall. With a single word, you may give life or even, take it away. People underestimate the strength a single word may carry. Some examples of strong/powerful words could be God, Life, Death and even Love. However, these are pretty obvious choices. Some less obvious words could be Hi, Goodbye, Thanks, Please and so on and so forth. Every single word has in itself strength, proportional to its use and context, whether directly or indirectly proportional depends on the situation I believe.

Another way which words can be seen as magic is through one’s name. One rule of magic, as learned in my readings is that one should never reveal one’s name unless one absolutely trusts who he/she is giving their name to. The reason for this is because your name could be used against you…they say…if your enemy finds out what your name is…he or she could undo and even destroy you. In a more practical point of view, this could be seen as when your enemy could spread terrible rumors about you, thus destroying who you are as an individual (the loss of identity/the corruption of your self). If a bad rumor about you spreads, certain biases and prejudices may rise against you…thus in a symbolic kind of way…destroy you.

Names have another aspect in which they could be powerful. Imagine that your whole being, your whole self…relied on your name. Imagine…if you were given a different name, would you be the exact same person you are now? Who you are could be traced back to your name. If a man named Michel Dominique was named Michael Dominic instead…would he have had the same number of friends? Would he have had hung out with the same number of people? Would he even look the same? Would he be the same person you know and probably love? Would he still be Michel Dominique…or someone entirely different…a man named Michael Dominic?

The reason for my whole argument regarding Language and Magic was something I had to do. And that something was to prove that magic does exist. In the first part of this article, I have shown you a more practical view of magic, however…in this next part, I shall be showing a more mystical side to it, however by still explaining it through practical terms.

As the first paragraph said, people usually think of magic as something major…parting a sea, coming back from the dead, staying in a block of ice for over a month…however this isn’t what magic really is.

Magic is in the little things.

You’ve probably experienced sitting on a bench amidst the blistering heat of summer…whistling loud to get a breeze…and out of nowhere, a cold gust of wind blows refreshing you. People don’t understand why a wind comes if you whistle…one possible explanation for this is magic.

You see, magic addresses specific needs…however these needs aren’t or...shouldn’t be anything too big for it to work. It shouldn’t be something like making it snow, during the summer to keep cool, rather focusing on yourself and making yourself cool…which could be seen or refuted as mind over matter.

If I told you that I was thirsty, would you conjure up a river for me? Or just come up with a simple glass of water? In this argument, the latter would be most ideal and easiest to do. That is how magic works…magic shouldn’t be complex and difficult…but rather simple and easy. With regards to magic…simple is better.

You’ve been doing magic for the longest time; however you may not be aware of it. I bet that there was one time where you saw a friend of yours distraught and depressed over something you’re unaware of…however by placing you hand on his back…you’ve made him/her feel better, just like that *snap*. You could say you were comforting that friend…but wouldn’t it be impossible to say that, that was magic? That by your placing your hand of your friend’s back…you took away his fear, his sadness and replaced it with calm and joy?

You see...magic is very simple when you think about it. It doesn't necesarilly have anything to do with incantations, or magic spells. No sacrifices or pentagrams or summoning up demons. Magic answers a specific need. The greater the need...the more magic you'd have to use. Such as the examples I gave above, the simpler the need is, the easier it is to do magic. However, as said in my previous post...magic has a price. And to be able to do magic...you have to be aware that there is a price to pay...much like everything in this world.

You see, this whole post, and your reading it...you could say is magic. A form of magic that I just did. However, nothing special. No using of magic words or subliminal messages that I've imbeded into the text. But something simple and divine.

Magic is all around you…magic is in the little things. Probably, due to our living in a highly scientific based society, people don’t believe in magic anymore. But, believe me…magic is real. All you have to do is open your eyes. *Abracadabra* and the world would look a tad different now…because wonder has returned to your life. Open your eyes…and see the world of magic which is around you.

What did I do with the magic spell in this text? Well...if you haven't realized it by now...I just opened your eyes to a new world...where anything and everything is possible. I planted the seed of wonder which was lost to you. But what of the price? Well...you could say, I am...or will be paying for it...sooner or later.

*Poof* It's done.

For every action...

Every great magic trick consists of three acts. The first act is called "The Pledge"; the magician shows you something ordinary, but of course... it probably isn't. The second act is called "The Turn"; the magician makes his ordinary some thing do something extraordinary. Now if you're looking for the secret... you won't find it, that's why there's a third act called, "The Prestige"; this is the part with the twists and turns, where lives hang in the balance, and you see something shocking you've never seen before.

As some of you may tell, I just watched the movie "The Prestige". It was a pretty cool movie, at that...but what caught my attention....wasn't the twists and turns, nor the different magic tricks that the two magicians did...however, what caught my attention was the term sacrifice.

Both magicians, Rupert Angier and Alfred Borden both lost almost everything in their quest for the best illusion. *SPOILER WARNING* They both lost loved ones, friends, family...and even themselves. They lived lives of obsession, of deceit, and of treachery, for the sake of coming out on top.

I've done a lot of reading...I've read books, comics, and for some reason...people who dwell in magic, both real and not always loose something in the process. Take for example, Merlin...teacher of King Arthur who in turn lost his life because of Magic. However, that may be obscure in a sense. Two more...closer to heart characters come to mind. First of is John Constantine, who most of you know was played by Keanu Reeves in the movie "Constantine" or to those, bigger fans...the main character in the Vertigo Comics Series "Hellblazer". John Constantine has also lost a lot due to magic. girlfriends, family, friends, co-workers all died. John blames himself for their deaths...because he knows that with Magic, comes a price...a price that he believes he pays for over and over and over again. Take for example in the movie. John Constantine looses the only 2 friends he has in the world Chas and Beeman (no...I’m not that big of a fan of the movie..I checked it at IMDB here) because of Magic. In the comics version, he looses his whole gang of friends, a lot of girlfriends (ex or not) and even his remaining family (his sister). And this is one lesson he learned the hard way; magic always comes at a price. This lesson was then in turn what he taught a young Timothy Hunter.

Timothy Hunter is another character in the Vertigo Comics Universe. He's the main character of another series entitled "The Books of Magic" initially created by Neil Gaiman. Here's a bit of back story. Tim was a young boy…who was approached by 4 men, all dressed in Trench coats. He was told that he was the most promising magician of his generation, and probably the greatest magician ever...basically Merlin reborn. For him to better understand the world of Magic, these 4 (The Phantom Stranger, Dr. Occult, John Constantine and Mister E) toured young Tim Hunter through the world of Magic. The Phantom Stranger toured Tim through Magic's past; Dr. Occult toured Tim of the different worlds of Magic; John Constantine toured Tim through Magic's present and finally; Mister E toured Tim through Magic's future and inevitably Magic's end. One thing, highly emphasized by John Constantine was that Magic always has a price. And to be able to do magic, one should be willing to pay the cost. Again, being a stubborn young man, Tim did not heed John's words and still played around with magic. And thus, learned that magic has a terrible price.

Tim lost his father (mother, died prior to the series) because of magic. He lost his first love, due to the fact that the girl kept on getting in over her head with regards to the different trials that Tim had to face. He also lost his friends, who were killed by his enemies, he practically lost everything. To escape the feeling of loosing anyone else, he then enters seclusion...and makes a world for himself to stay in (he's the greatest magician ever...he can do whatever he wants) and makes sure that his loved ones never die...but this was all a false utopia. In the end, he also lost that world...and realized that there was nothing else he could do, but live with the burden that he has...which is magic.

Okay, I bet you're lost now. You're probably thinking to yourself..."What the hell has this have to do with anything?!" Trust me, have I ever lead you a stray from whatever it is I'm talking about? I don't think so. But then again, you ask "But I don't do magic...what does this have to do with me?" My answer to that question: "Everything".

People seldom realize the consequences of their actions. Everything you do...has a consequence, an end result; either good or bad, you know about it or you don't. Not all results appear to us immediately. Some reveal themselves to us after days, weeks, months, even years. One thing you may have done during grade school, may probably affect something that's happening to you now. Everything we do, has a consequence. Everything we do is a result of something that happened prior, and will result in another thing happening in the future. There is a saying that says: "Men are defined by events that happened in their lives…” which in some cases may be true. Think back to one of your most vivid memories. Try imagining what would happen if that never occured. Maybe, you wouldn't meet your current loved one, maybe you wouldn't be who you are today. Who we are, can be defined by what happened to us in the past...which is logically sound because if there was no past, then there could be no present...and in turn bear no future.

We all pay the prices of our sins. We all pay the price for things that we've done in the past...both good and bad. Another term that comes to mind is Karma or the saying "What goes around, comes around." Or...for those of you who are religious...the afterlife Inferno, Purgatorio and Paradiso...where you end up, depends on your actions when you were alive.

Magic isn't the only thing that has a price. Everything has a price. From the internet you're using to read this entry...to the cellphone you use to check the time...or what you have up here (points to head). Everything has a price...depending on the object of discussion.

We all pay the price of living...both material, and not. We all have undergone trials...lost quite a number of things. We've all made sacrifices...

And as the title of this entry says...

"For every action...there is an equal and opposite reaction." - Newton's Third Law of Motion

Lonely Tree...In the Corner

Lonely tree, in the corner
Why...are you there?
Lonely tree, standing by my window
I see you, lonely as you seem.

I see you, standing in the corner
And people, just walk by...(ooohhh)
I see you, standing in the corner
And people...just walk by...

Lonely tree, when I see you.
Now that I see you, I cry.
Lonely tree, now that I see you,
Now that I see you, I cry.

Hoooooo...
Hoooooo...
Hoooooo...
I, cry....

The Lonely Side of Town...

I'm walking alone
with no direction
And since you packed up everything that you own
There's no hurry.

I'm walking alone,
Guess I'm gonna take the long way home
And I never should've tried to explain
I'm not sorry for holding you back.

Sorry for holding you back
As I meant what I said
And I figured you wouldn't react
And you waited so long
For the things that belong to you
Know that I don't have
A leg left to stand on
But winning you back
When the chips are all stacked
Up against me is what I do best.

I'm walking alone
Guess I'm gonna take the long way home
And I'll stop by to say hello
Pretend I really had to go

And all the final things
That money brings
Are yours to care for then
It's so lonely on the other side of town.

Hope?

As the light at the end of the tunnel begins to flicker,
And the you feel all sad and bitter;
Feeling like no one's there to hold your hand,
Like having only one pair of footprints in the sand.

The loss of hope is a bitter pain,
especially after all your dreams have been lain...
While everyone falters moving farther away
Like the sun gone on a clear morning day.

Losing hope,
Feeling like a dope;
Forgetting why
A dream, supposedly a reality may die.

When our time is up,
Will we just give up?
Putting all our trials past,
And get away from here fast.

Standing on the rooftops,
Waiting till the bomb drops,
Never gonna regret,
Watching every sunset,

Listening to every heartbeat
This is something we're going to beat.
We will make a mark,
We'll hit this ball out of the park.

Heaven...

This afternoon, I spent another hour in ADMU reading a book. I like going to school during Sundays...there's something different about it. It's something I can't really explain, but you just have to experience it to believe.

The whole emptiness of school during a Sunday, with the wind blowing and the trees swaying...seeing faces, you never really see when there are classes...the leaves all on the ground due to the winds and rains that have been happening a lot the past weeks. The whole solitude offered by the experience is...something unique I guess.

Anyway...I'm surprised how so much can happen in so little time. It was 5:50pm and I was ready to leave, but not after my last cig on campus. When I got to the smoking area, a girl was sitting there all alone. I dumped my book on the bench and had a cigarette ready and waiting in my mouth. I was fumbling around my pockets for my lighter. I shot a glance at the girl sitting across me...and she smiled. With the cig in my mouth, and my hands in my pockets...I tried as hard as I could to smile without letting my cig fall on the ground. She apparently found my struggle to be quite amusing since she laughed (though only a little bit). I lit my cigarette and sat down. She asked my name, and I replied…and she was surprised cause that was her nickname at home too...but she gave me the name her friends called her. She was an incoming senior coz she took an LOA for a semester last year...she was supposed to have graduated already but because of the Leave of Absence, she had to be held back a year. She asked me what book I was reading, and I gave her a rather...lengthy and non-entertaining synopsis. She seemed interested (I think...or she was giving me a hint of sorts...I dunno...) Then after, she asked me to read something that she wrote for a fiction writing class. It was entitled "Heaven" (yup...here's where I got the title for this post from). It was about this girl, who dies and meets God...or the voice of God at least...and the girl couldn't accept that she was dead and she was cursing at God coz of all the rotten things that happened to her life...but in the end, God reassured her that He/She did indeed love her...and the girl woke up.

Pretty good story actually...now that I think about it. She asked me what I thought, and I had to agree with the red marks all over the paper..."Too confrontational" well that was the only one I was able to read. I told her that...I didn't think that the whole screaming at God thing...was true...coz I always thought, when you meet God, you'd be speechless with awe while basking in all of His/Her glory. She said "true"...and I told her that to be honest, I didn't read "bestsellers" and stuff...that I read classic lit; gothic lit to be precise. I cracked a few jokes, but when 6pm came...I had to go home. I bid her farewell, and went on my way.

For those who know me...yes, I psycho-analyzed her. But no, I didn't do it on the way home...I did it while reading her story! A-HA! Elementary my dear Dr. Watson...The whole story was as I told her..."angsty" there was a lot of displaced emotion that was put into the text. She was probably the type of girl that showed that she was getting frustrated...she's rather transparent...you can see what she's feeling...she shows it...anytime, anywhere. She's outspoken and outgoing. She's a strong woman, willing to make the first move if she feels like it. She probably has a strong figure to look up to, whether her mom or dad, that I'm not sure of. I think she has had a lot of bad experiences when it comes to guys given by some things that I saw within the text. She probably has an external locus of control, not really accepting things to be of her own fault, but rather blaming them on outside circumstances. She's probably the type of girl who takes thing's seriously...sees things in black and white...I dunno. These are all first impressions given by her when I met her and from the text that she had written.

Funny how all of this happened in a span of 10 mins. Within those 10 minutes, I had a rough picture of what she was like...besides the whole first impressions thing. Funny how something that started with a smile, ended up with something like this. Funny how I can't really help myself but psycho-analyze someone I've met for the first time (well...if I’m sober, or...just up to it). Funny how, two complete strangers, finding themselves in the same situation, sitting in the smoking area in school, on a gloomy Sunday afternoon...can tear away the shyness and the awkwardness and just plain talk. Funny how, even though I may be attracted to her both for her personality, her looks, and more...that I may never see her again. Funny how if ever I do see her again, and she sees me...she may not even recognize me, or I her. Funny how the moments that we are given, every minute, every second something can happen, that may never repeat itself in the future. Funny how life plays with us...trying to see what we'd do, how we'd act given different situations.

Funny, isn't it?

Shit...

(Sorry to those who might be "grossed out by what I'm going to say in the first paragraph...)

Last week...after taking a crap, I peered into the toilet bowl. I got scared by what I saw...blood. I told my parents about it, and they said it might be nothing, but to tell them if it happens again. Earlier this afternoon...I took a crap again, and this time...there was more blood. It was the second time it happened, the first being last week. I told my mom first about it...and she was getting scared. I know...coz so was I. But...to keep up the facade that it might be nothing at all...I was laughing. After leaving their room...my mom called my dad who was watching TV downstairs...he ran up as fast as he could...and called me. My dad was talking about having me brought to the hospital this week for a colonoscopy. Then i was telling them that it may be just a wound or something...but my mom said...that it could be well...the big "c" (hyep...cancer).

I got scared...I had to get away. I just went off to ADMU and good thing, a friend was there...who just got back from Tagaytay. I was really going there to see her, but things turned a turn for the worst after what happened earlier. When i got there...I told her about it. She got mad at me (I understand why...) I mean...I didn't think about her at all...I just dumped everything on her...but she was a great help...trying to keep my mind off the whole thing. She stayed for only about 5 mins and asked me if I wanted to tag along with them to Starbucks...I replied no..and that I needed some time to clear my head and think...and think I did.

Ever since...I knew how and roughly when I'd die (Colon Cancer, between 75-80yrs) coz that's how most of the males in my mom's side of the family died. And almost everyone in my family would say...that I got most of my genes from my mom.

I never really thought about my death...since I knew it would be far from now...but the whole thing...gave me a new perspective on things. If ever this is colon cancer that I do have...I'd have a lot less time left. So now...I had to think. Think about my death....

I know, I know...some of you are yelling that there's a big chance that it's nothing. I know...but still...I have to come into grips with my death. I know that I will die sooner or later...(hopefully the latter). And that's the whole point of this...a venue for me to express my feelings and reflections on the matter at hand.

I have to accept the inevitability that I will die. Thus, in doing so, I recognize the potentialities of the whole thing. Being able to realize this, I can better manage my time and the way I do things. When I realize the potentialities that are brought about by my death...as Henry David Thoreau wrote in his book The Walden, "As I went into the woods because I wanted to live deliberately. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life... to put to rout all that was not life; and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived." When I realize and come to grips with my doom, I will see things from another perspective. And as Brad Pitt said in the movie Troy "I'll tell you a secret. Something they don't teach you in your temple. The Gods envy us. They envy us because we're mortal, because any moment might be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we're doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again."

But...After all this thinking...I had to see an old friend. So I walked over to Gesu, sat down in one of the seats...and prayed. I asked God for strength...not for me...but for everyone else. Strength that I knew I had somewhere within...but a strength that not everyone can utilize. I knew my parents were scared...my female friend was too...and I knew that so was I. But after the whole praying and philosophizing...I wasn't as scared anymore...because to me, everything was becoming more beautiful...because I am doomed...and i know that I will never be lovlier than I am now...