Aren't matches tragic?
They only fulfill their purpose
upon their own self-induced destruction.
10.12.07
light translated
Light.
The opponent of the Dark, the Good, the opposite. It is hard to think of light--or appreciate it--without the looming, oft described as repressive, Dark. Yet for all it stood for, in English there is only one word used, whether figuratively or literally--only Light, electric or not.
Ilaw/Liwanag.
Yet here in Filipino we have two words we associate with Light--Ilaw, commonly used as the literal light ("Paki-buksan naman yung ilaw") and Liwanag, more used in the figurative sense and ad campaigns ("Liwanag sa Dilim"; "May Liwanag ang Buhay"). The choice of translation, of course, changes with the context. One does not say "Paki-buksan naman yung liwanag"--one sticks with Ilaw, the real, visible one; using Liwanag sounds so wrong and out of place. Ilaw is also easier to spell and pronounce--perfect for everyday conversation.
Which leads me to think on how the Filipino thinks in relation to what is real (the material/literal), and what is not (the figurative). There has been a need to put a dividing line between what is real and what is not, between the literal and the figurative.
Probably because sometimes, we are often encouraged to "get real".
To paraphrase Virgilio Almario in "Pilipinas ang Ating Haraya", we have forgotten how to dream, our literature always dwelling on the struggles of our people. Nothing wrong with that, but as the essay reminds us, we need to laugh and dream once in a while. Or for a much more recent quote, Neil Gaiman's reason for sponsoring the Philippine Graphic and Fiction awards had said that the Philippines had a strong literary streak, but in realism and not in unrealism.
Streching it a bit further, how many of us have been told to get real and pursue careers that would earn us real money in th so-called real world? A lot, probably, like those who take up nursing for the promise of working abroad, or the English majors that have been told their only future job will be underpaid and overworked teachers.
In getting real, the figurative--the dream--died.
Besides, who wants a longer word just for Light when you're just going to ask somebody to turn it on anyway? After all, we Filipinos have a sometimes tragic penchant for getting everything quick--from sari-sari and convenience stores to getting rich quick schemes like lotto, jueteng, and pyramid scams.
With all the realism, Ilaw arose, Liwanag confined to the dusty shelves of libraries. To survive, Liwanag is now the adjective, not entirely necessary (after all the most basic sentences are just nouns and verbs). It is in that adjective maliwanag, seen in the everyday speech, that the figurative lives on; as in figurative speech is used to describe and flatter, so is the adjective.
And maybe like the adjective, we and our dreams may survive, only albeit with a little compromise and a little change along the way.
The opponent of the Dark, the Good, the opposite. It is hard to think of light--or appreciate it--without the looming, oft described as repressive, Dark. Yet for all it stood for, in English there is only one word used, whether figuratively or literally--only Light, electric or not.
Ilaw/Liwanag.
Yet here in Filipino we have two words we associate with Light--Ilaw, commonly used as the literal light ("Paki-buksan naman yung ilaw") and Liwanag, more used in the figurative sense and ad campaigns ("Liwanag sa Dilim"; "May Liwanag ang Buhay"). The choice of translation, of course, changes with the context. One does not say "Paki-buksan naman yung liwanag"--one sticks with Ilaw, the real, visible one; using Liwanag sounds so wrong and out of place. Ilaw is also easier to spell and pronounce--perfect for everyday conversation.
Which leads me to think on how the Filipino thinks in relation to what is real (the material/literal), and what is not (the figurative). There has been a need to put a dividing line between what is real and what is not, between the literal and the figurative.
Probably because sometimes, we are often encouraged to "get real".
To paraphrase Virgilio Almario in "Pilipinas ang Ating Haraya", we have forgotten how to dream, our literature always dwelling on the struggles of our people. Nothing wrong with that, but as the essay reminds us, we need to laugh and dream once in a while. Or for a much more recent quote, Neil Gaiman's reason for sponsoring the Philippine Graphic and Fiction awards had said that the Philippines had a strong literary streak, but in realism and not in unrealism.
Streching it a bit further, how many of us have been told to get real and pursue careers that would earn us real money in th so-called real world? A lot, probably, like those who take up nursing for the promise of working abroad, or the English majors that have been told their only future job will be underpaid and overworked teachers.
In getting real, the figurative--the dream--died.
Besides, who wants a longer word just for Light when you're just going to ask somebody to turn it on anyway? After all, we Filipinos have a sometimes tragic penchant for getting everything quick--from sari-sari and convenience stores to getting rich quick schemes like lotto, jueteng, and pyramid scams.
With all the realism, Ilaw arose, Liwanag confined to the dusty shelves of libraries. To survive, Liwanag is now the adjective, not entirely necessary (after all the most basic sentences are just nouns and verbs). It is in that adjective maliwanag, seen in the everyday speech, that the figurative lives on; as in figurative speech is used to describe and flatter, so is the adjective.
And maybe like the adjective, we and our dreams may survive, only albeit with a little compromise and a little change along the way.
9.12.07
hills, rolling boulders, and fire
So many things to talk about, and so many things I've rediscovered the past few weeks (or more like the time gaps between the posts).
I've rediscovered poetry, having read a couple of poems from the 1980 Palanca Anthology last lazy Friday while waiting for Mom to pick me up at Bestsellers in Galleria. Yesterday I went back and bought it--at 250php it's a bargain for some of the gems of Philippine Lit.
The newsprint pages hid the words of the poets, the fragmented moments they captured through words and contained through verses.
I've again questioned the existence of everything--most particularly of divinity and the established truths of blind faith. After all, would it matter if the image on the Shroud was the Messiah or the thief on his right? The findings presented during the Turin exhibit were at most inconclusive. Plus it doesn't matter if really was the shroud of the Messiah or a prophet or a thief--people would still go on living the way they do after that moment of shock and surprise.
Even the most absurd of all follies would seem of the most impeccable of reason with blind faith.
I've realized, too, that being a demi-god--or a ruler or a leader or whatever you may wish to call it--becomes monotonous and tiring after a while. It's just like Sisyphus pushing a rock up a hill; or Prometheus, the fire, and his liver being eaten by those birds.
I am already burned out by the fire that I held; and I let the boulder fall not intending to pick it up sometime near the future.
I return to the pages of poetry, and the muse--from this drudgery and through these words-- save me.
I've rediscovered poetry, having read a couple of poems from the 1980 Palanca Anthology last lazy Friday while waiting for Mom to pick me up at Bestsellers in Galleria. Yesterday I went back and bought it--at 250php it's a bargain for some of the gems of Philippine Lit.
The newsprint pages hid the words of the poets, the fragmented moments they captured through words and contained through verses.
I've again questioned the existence of everything--most particularly of divinity and the established truths of blind faith. After all, would it matter if the image on the Shroud was the Messiah or the thief on his right? The findings presented during the Turin exhibit were at most inconclusive. Plus it doesn't matter if really was the shroud of the Messiah or a prophet or a thief--people would still go on living the way they do after that moment of shock and surprise.
Even the most absurd of all follies would seem of the most impeccable of reason with blind faith.
I've realized, too, that being a demi-god--or a ruler or a leader or whatever you may wish to call it--becomes monotonous and tiring after a while. It's just like Sisyphus pushing a rock up a hill; or Prometheus, the fire, and his liver being eaten by those birds.
I am already burned out by the fire that I held; and I let the boulder fall not intending to pick it up sometime near the future.
I return to the pages of poetry, and the muse--from this drudgery and through these words-- save me.
nightlights
Written in a traffic jam on 20:38, 12.07; somewhere along EDSA, between Magallanes and Makati.
The night sky
looks down on me,
devoid.
Only these faux stars
of these fifteen minutes
pretend to return my gaze,
as I amble along this labyrinth of
concrete, asphalt and steel.
They
the same ones
who ate the real occupants
of the sky,
claiming it for their own.
The night sky
looks down on me,
devoid.
Only these faux stars
of these fifteen minutes
pretend to return my gaze,
as I amble along this labyrinth of
concrete, asphalt and steel.
They
the same ones
who ate the real occupants
of the sky,
claiming it for their own.
2.12.07
two-hundred and fifty
"...at least 250 words."
And what would I say that would account for more than two-hundred and fifty words?
Maybe I could help weave dreams, specially the dreams of children that grown-ups would usually dismiss as just mere fantasies; fluff. I wish to teach them to dream as well—or for those who have forgotten, the art of dreaming—like the way many that have gone ahead of me did, through their works and tomes.
I would tell my story—and that of a thousand others, whose voices couldn't be heard because of the incessant babble by the so-called high-and-mighty. I would lend my words to the speechless, I will be their voice.
After all, I am a writer; there is no writer that speaks alone, and only for his/her own thoughts. Every writer was, is, and will be influenced by others; and every work will cause a change in someone’s life, no matter how minute. As that saying goes, “No man is an island”—same with writing; no work is devoid of any influence from other works or real-life experiences with other people.
Like the best advice that I ever received from a writer:
“Sumulat Magbasa Sumulat Mabuhay Sumulat.”
Write, read, write, live, write.
Then again, I always could write about him. Yet even if I wrote a million essays about him, it still wouldn't be enough to explain why I love him; he whose words matter most to me, he who helped me to smile and live again.
25.11.07
fangirl moments
So yes, I am currently still in half a fangirl mode.
After waiting for around an hour and standing under a slight drizzle earlier, I finally finally got to see Neil Gaiman at the 2nd Philippine Graphic and Fiction Awards at The Fort earlier. Though he didn't sign any books (except for Erik Mana's Mirrormask, who did the opening rites with a really good magic and mind reading thingy show) his short Q+A/talk was good enough, touching on how really weird stuff from the Philippines that he received ("...calamansi juice, wooden men with really big penises, and Chocnut"), on writing dark/horror stories ("...you have to believe in them") and his e-book deal. Thanks to Oscar for shooting better pics too; I met up with him earlier, so that makes two fan-err-people.
And the awarding (the winners get to shake hands and a hug from him *swoon*) made me really want to join next year. As he said, there's still a year to prepare for the next competition. :)
After waiting for around an hour and standing under a slight drizzle earlier, I finally finally got to see Neil Gaiman at the 2nd Philippine Graphic and Fiction Awards at The Fort earlier. Though he didn't sign any books (except for Erik Mana's Mirrormask, who did the opening rites with a really good magic and mind reading thingy show) his short Q+A/talk was good enough, touching on how really weird stuff from the Philippines that he received ("...calamansi juice, wooden men with really big penises, and Chocnut"), on writing dark/horror stories ("...you have to believe in them") and his e-book deal. Thanks to Oscar for shooting better pics too; I met up with him earlier, so that makes two fan-err-people.
And the awarding (the winners get to shake hands and a hug from him *swoon*) made me really want to join next year. As he said, there's still a year to prepare for the next competition. :)
20.11.07
rewrite
I started writing this on paper, and I am ending this here on the desktop at home.
I was in my EEE10 class when I started writing this, our prof explaining why and how hybrid cars work. I'm only half-interested--first of all I don't drive, and the lectures are downloadable anyway; he's just practially reading from it.
"...different from your normal brushes, they're made from carbon..."
And so he went, like the rotor of the magnet-machine spinning until the battery gets prolly disconnected or kaputt, like time running out or stopping and ending.
A quick sweeping glance across the room showed everyone was either half-asleep, half-listening, half-writing and all were only half-interested. There was even this guy on a laptop--I wish I had brought mine too, with the hinges fixed.
"An electric fan is basically the most basic example; it's basically just a motor with the fan blades attached to it..."
The aircon behind me hummed as it blew its cold breath across the room.
"...weird classification; Engineering is classified under Science while Computers and Electronics are not."
And I relieve myself from the pain, the monotony of this life, with this pen. For inspiration is like a poison that you have to draw out, or the thoughts bottled up inside would kill you.
Which nearly happened to me last night, as the poison crept into my being while I lay in the dark, only a cat for company.
I was in my EEE10 class when I started writing this, our prof explaining why and how hybrid cars work. I'm only half-interested--first of all I don't drive, and the lectures are downloadable anyway; he's just practially reading from it.
"...different from your normal brushes, they're made from carbon..."
And so he went, like the rotor of the magnet-machine spinning until the battery gets prolly disconnected or kaputt, like time running out or stopping and ending.
A quick sweeping glance across the room showed everyone was either half-asleep, half-listening, half-writing and all were only half-interested. There was even this guy on a laptop--I wish I had brought mine too, with the hinges fixed.
"An electric fan is basically the most basic example; it's basically just a motor with the fan blades attached to it..."
The aircon behind me hummed as it blew its cold breath across the room.
"...weird classification; Engineering is classified under Science while Computers and Electronics are not."
And I relieve myself from the pain, the monotony of this life, with this pen. For inspiration is like a poison that you have to draw out, or the thoughts bottled up inside would kill you.
Which nearly happened to me last night, as the poison crept into my being while I lay in the dark, only a cat for company.
13.10.07
fleeing
A shadow stronger than her power over the Dark loomed over the small forest clearing she called home. She sensed a presence trying to break into the hiding spell she cast as she walked the path home from the Manor, where she
Her last sanctuary, defiled. Sandra waited amongst the trees as she felt the presence trying to break in, trying to sniff out her power. How she felt weak, powerless--this was a power greater than hers, probably the source of her power itself. She cannot possibly challenge it, for fear that she would die in the process.
And as soon as she felt the power, it disappeared. Quickly she went back inside her shack, looking over her shoulder every so often. All her spell-tools were left intact--her scrying shard was still on her shelf, her cauldron still had the last remnants of the brew she had started to make several nights before. Her book still lay open on the page that she had left it, yet there was something different about the page that it was opened to.
A line of the spell was missing; the spell of secrecy was broken.
She had to flee.
Dumping the contents of the half-brewed potion she was making into the fire, she scooped up the scrying shard, the book, several herbs, and her quill; dumping all into her small sack she used as a bag. Grabbing the cauldron and the bag, she did one final spell on the shack, and ran out in the direction of the Manor.
She needed to redo the Enchantment; the Circle she had made in her grove was broken.
She feared for him, and herself as well.
---->
I'm moving to a new blog. Check your YM, and there you'd find me.
Her last sanctuary, defiled. Sandra waited amongst the trees as she felt the presence trying to break in, trying to sniff out her power. How she felt weak, powerless--this was a power greater than hers, probably the source of her power itself. She cannot possibly challenge it, for fear that she would die in the process.
And as soon as she felt the power, it disappeared. Quickly she went back inside her shack, looking over her shoulder every so often. All her spell-tools were left intact--her scrying shard was still on her shelf, her cauldron still had the last remnants of the brew she had started to make several nights before. Her book still lay open on the page that she had left it, yet there was something different about the page that it was opened to.
A line of the spell was missing; the spell of secrecy was broken.
She had to flee.
Dumping the contents of the half-brewed potion she was making into the fire, she scooped up the scrying shard, the book, several herbs, and her quill; dumping all into her small sack she used as a bag. Grabbing the cauldron and the bag, she did one final spell on the shack, and ran out in the direction of the Manor.
She needed to redo the Enchantment; the Circle she had made in her grove was broken.
She feared for him, and herself as well.
---->
I'm moving to a new blog. Check your YM, and there you'd find me.
9.10.07
reminisce
My notes scattered all over the bed, along with index cards and handouts highlighted in a variety of colors. Just waiting, waiting for him.
I reread my previous posts, and I'm surprised at how long I have been posting here; and how a lot of things have happened since then. This blog has now ran the full gamut of emotions, from extreme despair to anger to euphoria and to just plain boredom. Which proves that I'm not as emo as I've previously thought. Since the muse has two homes already, well the posts are not as oddly great as they have been, or then again it's just me.
I also reread his words earlier, and for a while I wished I could wield fire and ice too. He has truly come a long way from that first draft that I did by hand, and even though it's still far from perfect (then again, who is?), that's enough to make me happy.
I reread my previous posts, and I'm surprised at how long I have been posting here; and how a lot of things have happened since then. This blog has now ran the full gamut of emotions, from extreme despair to anger to euphoria and to just plain boredom. Which proves that I'm not as emo as I've previously thought. Since the muse has two homes already, well the posts are not as oddly great as they have been, or then again it's just me.
I also reread his words earlier, and for a while I wished I could wield fire and ice too. He has truly come a long way from that first draft that I did by hand, and even though it's still far from perfect (then again, who is?), that's enough to make me happy.
moonrise
The spilled water seeped into the circle that she had traced into the ground, wetting the hem of her dress. Slowly it crept to her feet, a smile of the Goddess.
As he took her hand and gave the rose, she simply let go of the small cauldron that she held, and let the water spill to the ground. She let herself be swept into his embrace, and on this night of Witch's Moon, for the first time in years, she wasn't alone.
Silence. There was nothing more that could be said, for nothing else really mattered as she was enveloped in his arms.
As he took her hand and gave the rose, she simply let go of the small cauldron that she held, and let the water spill to the ground. She let herself be swept into his embrace, and on this night of Witch's Moon, for the first time in years, she wasn't alone.
Silence. There was nothing more that could be said, for nothing else really mattered as she was enveloped in his arms.
5.10.07
daybreak
"H-how did you get here?" she asked, even though she knew the answer. She let herself be swept into his embrace, and she buried herself in his chest.
She slipped the paper, folded neatly in a square, in his coat pocket as she breathed in his scent, still tainted with the blood of innocents.
"Don't open it until later," Sandra whispered as stopped his hand which had instinctively went to his pocket. "And what brings you here again? I cannot cure all ails."
"On the contrary, you did. With me." he replied, whispering in her ear. "I haven't come to town in the light of day for such a long time. Will you act as my guide?"
"I cannot say the same for me, either. Though I may walk in the Light, I still choose to dance in the Dark."
"Very well--let's get lost together then."
She slipped the paper, folded neatly in a square, in his coat pocket as she breathed in his scent, still tainted with the blood of innocents.
"Don't open it until later," Sandra whispered as stopped his hand which had instinctively went to his pocket. "And what brings you here again? I cannot cure all ails."
"On the contrary, you did. With me." he replied, whispering in her ear. "I haven't come to town in the light of day for such a long time. Will you act as my guide?"
"I cannot say the same for me, either. Though I may walk in the Light, I still choose to dance in the Dark."
"Very well--let's get lost together then."
3.10.07
a reply
If you are/were an LOTR fan, or at least read the books, the story arc of Eowyn should be familiar. For those who haven't read it, though, here's the story in a nutshell. Strong-willed, brave, slayer of the Witch-King, Eowyn is the epitome of a strong woman.
However, she was lost in the paths of love. As we all know Aragorn was only for the Evenstar, Arwen; and yet Eowyn still hoped for his love, a misplaced admiration and affection. It was only in the Houses of Healing that she realized her true feelings, and realized that maybe, just maybe, that the one meant for you was just always there all along. She met Faramir, Captain of Gondor, someone just as brave as she was. For Faramir was just there for her, helping her spirit to heal and to realize her true feelings.
Maybe now I have found my Faramir as well.
He was always there--in victory and in my depths of despair. I've cried out my troubles to him, and he'd listen, even if he was supposed to be doing something else. He understands me more than I do sometimes. Even in the most eccentric of moods, he bears with me, and even let me burn his study (well RP style). I don't have to admit who I really am just to get him interested--I don't need to prove anything to him, for to others I'm only as fascinating as my rank and name.
And maybe I just loved him all along.
It's the only reason why I agreed to edit Terra Nova 1 in the first place--I'm not very fond of editing long works; and free of charge at that. It's the reason why I'd try to cheer him up whenever I see a sigh or a sad emoticon, and he's the only person that I can spill all my secrets to. I just want him to feel that he's not alone in his battles, and together we will face all the world and whatever that comes along with it.
Remember the post entitled "paths" and his poem? Well I've chosen which path to take. I choose the pen over the brush, for the brush can only do so much. With the pen, we will write our dreams together. And now the post entitled "conversation" won't be just fiction anymore.
Love you too, Dave. :)
However, she was lost in the paths of love. As we all know Aragorn was only for the Evenstar, Arwen; and yet Eowyn still hoped for his love, a misplaced admiration and affection. It was only in the Houses of Healing that she realized her true feelings, and realized that maybe, just maybe, that the one meant for you was just always there all along. She met Faramir, Captain of Gondor, someone just as brave as she was. For Faramir was just there for her, helping her spirit to heal and to realize her true feelings.
Maybe now I have found my Faramir as well.
He was always there--in victory and in my depths of despair. I've cried out my troubles to him, and he'd listen, even if he was supposed to be doing something else. He understands me more than I do sometimes. Even in the most eccentric of moods, he bears with me, and even let me burn his study (well RP style). I don't have to admit who I really am just to get him interested--I don't need to prove anything to him, for to others I'm only as fascinating as my rank and name.
And maybe I just loved him all along.
It's the only reason why I agreed to edit Terra Nova 1 in the first place--I'm not very fond of editing long works; and free of charge at that. It's the reason why I'd try to cheer him up whenever I see a sigh or a sad emoticon, and he's the only person that I can spill all my secrets to. I just want him to feel that he's not alone in his battles, and together we will face all the world and whatever that comes along with it.
Remember the post entitled "paths" and his poem? Well I've chosen which path to take. I choose the pen over the brush, for the brush can only do so much. With the pen, we will write our dreams together. And now the post entitled "conversation" won't be just fiction anymore.
Love you too, Dave. :)
surrender
His hands held hers, and her lips met his. For those few seconds, the world stopped.
Had it been any other, she would have resisted and summoned the fiercest demon out of the Dark to vanquish him. But it was him, and only he can force her to sink into a sweet surrender.
Yet fear set in as well, and she pushed him away, running out of the manor and nearly bumping into another man as she went out. Sandra ran into the forest, tears streaming down her face.
Why was she so afraid then? She couldn't understand it herself. Why did she run away from something that she she felt no danger from, from what all the signs had pointed to?
Slowly though, as she sat in a secluded grove near her forest home, an unfamiliar happiness filled her as she banished her fear. Her tears stopped falling.
Had it been any other, she would have resisted and summoned the fiercest demon out of the Dark to vanquish him. But it was him, and only he can force her to sink into a sweet surrender.
Yet fear set in as well, and she pushed him away, running out of the manor and nearly bumping into another man as she went out. Sandra ran into the forest, tears streaming down her face.
Why was she so afraid then? She couldn't understand it herself. Why did she run away from something that she she felt no danger from, from what all the signs had pointed to?
Slowly though, as she sat in a secluded grove near her forest home, an unfamiliar happiness filled her as she banished her fear. Her tears stopped falling.
1.10.07
author's note
You may have noticed the last few posts, respectively titled wicca, petals, and meeting. They're actually tie-ins to DaveTNova's Vampiric Chronicles; first started out just as deviations but are now considered part of the stories themselves. The order then goes like this:
>Chronicles 1-3
>wicca
>Chronicle 4
>petals
>Chronicle 5
>meeting
And I've heard Chronicle 6 will be up soon, so just keep yourselves posted.
They're not purely fiction, I tell you. ;)
>Chronicles 1-3
>wicca
>Chronicle 4
>petals
>Chronicle 5
>meeting
And I've heard Chronicle 6 will be up soon, so just keep yourselves posted.
They're not purely fiction, I tell you. ;)
meeting
A small vial containing the petal, part of the letter, and the ebony liquid that held them together hung around her neck; yet neatly hidden in the folds of her blouse.
Sandra walked the trail to the Manor as the sun started to hide behind the grey clouds, sinking into oblivion. The leaves crunched under her steps; like her spirit, the leaves disintegrate into the earth. Arriving at the grand door of the Manor, she clasped the heavy brass knocker, sighed, and knocked three times.
Oddly enough, the servant let her in without any hesitation. After being led through several corridors and making several turns, she found herself in the drawing room.
And found him there as well, asleep in a worn-down rouge armchair, his face illuminated by the flickering candlelight.
Sandra walked the trail to the Manor as the sun started to hide behind the grey clouds, sinking into oblivion. The leaves crunched under her steps; like her spirit, the leaves disintegrate into the earth. Arriving at the grand door of the Manor, she clasped the heavy brass knocker, sighed, and knocked three times.
Oddly enough, the servant let her in without any hesitation. After being led through several corridors and making several turns, she found herself in the drawing room.
And found him there as well, asleep in a worn-down rouge armchair, his face illuminated by the flickering candlelight.
30.9.07
petals
She fingered the black rose delicately, unsure. The small note lay on the small wooden table beside her, the scarlet words repeating themselves in her thoughts.
Oh how she was confused; and she was not supposed to be. She who had the power of both Dark and Light, a trait considered rare amongst all those who practice the Craft. She had the power to have glimpses of both Past and Future, yet she was here now, lost in the Present. After all, there was a warlock that she told herself she loved, and her heart was torn.
Sandra stood up and went to the pot that was left over a fire that had burnt itself out. Emptying its contents outside, she went to a nearby spring with just the light of the full moon as her guide, and filled the pot nearly to the brim with water. Relighting the fire with just a whisper and some firewood, she put the water to a boil, and got the black rose.
One by one she plucked the petals off and threw them into the pot, the water slowly turning ebony. Next came the letter, torn into pieces, the ink bleeding into the ebony mixture. Last came a strand of her own hair, another sealing pact, yet lesser than her blood.
She asked the Goddess for a sign.
She got an answer.
Oh how she was confused; and she was not supposed to be. She who had the power of both Dark and Light, a trait considered rare amongst all those who practice the Craft. She had the power to have glimpses of both Past and Future, yet she was here now, lost in the Present. After all, there was a warlock that she told herself she loved, and her heart was torn.
Sandra stood up and went to the pot that was left over a fire that had burnt itself out. Emptying its contents outside, she went to a nearby spring with just the light of the full moon as her guide, and filled the pot nearly to the brim with water. Relighting the fire with just a whisper and some firewood, she put the water to a boil, and got the black rose.
One by one she plucked the petals off and threw them into the pot, the water slowly turning ebony. Next came the letter, torn into pieces, the ink bleeding into the ebony mixture. Last came a strand of her own hair, another sealing pact, yet lesser than her blood.
She asked the Goddess for a sign.
She got an answer.
29.9.07
choices
I gaze out of my window at the now quieted tempest, the complete opposite of my own thoughts. Another soundtrack accompanies this moodswing that I'm hopelessly stuck in, yet relishing it, and I want a sign. I still haven't chosen a path yet and it will probably take some time for me to choose one. Or is the answer so evident already and I'm just in a state of denial, forcing myself to believe that my love for one is greater than my love for another?
I don't know, and I seek a sign.
I don't know, and I seek a sign.
27.9.07
wicca
Sandra watched from her shack's sole window as the form of the vampire disappeared into the woods. There was no need to put up her defenses; she was not afraid of them. Only against warlocks and fellow witches does she put her guard up.
For she had been bitten once before, and for reasons she still does not understand, she did not change.
Long she had asked why didn't she change. All her books gave no answer, all her years of experience in witchcraft gave no clue. A visit to her master, though, from whom she learnt the Craft, revealed the most likely reason.
"You have, by far, the most tempestuous will of all those that I have taught," her master had said. "Your will changes faster than the flapping of the hummingbird's wings sometimes, and I once feared that you may not be able to control your power because of that. That is why you were not affected by the curse in any way, for only those who are considered strong-willed are usually the first to fall."
Yet still she wondered over the seeming contradiction. She had always watched the vampires of the Manor from afar, and knew all that had happened. She was quite fascinated with the pure-blood as well; and had come to admire him more because of the sense of honor he still held even as a vampire.
Pushing aside all thoughts, she put out the cauldron flames and got her scrying shard from her shelf. Going outside, she stopped at the edge of the woods, and bent down to trace a pentagram on the soil.
And standing in the center of the star, she chanted:
Invoking the Light
Shinest upon thee now!
None shall harm thee,
For I am the Defender
And I am your Shield!
She felt her power slowly drain into the earth, and wished for his safety. The world is hostile to their kind, and greatly she feared for his safety.
With one swift swipe, she cut her palm with the scyring shard and let the blood drip at each point of the pentagram.
Through my blood
Let this spell be bound
To the Rules and Oaths of the Goddess!
She closed her eyes, and let her power empty to the earth. Wherever he may be now, the Goddess will protect him, by the oath bound by the blood of a witch.
That was the only thing that she could give him now, aside from her answer.
For she had been bitten once before, and for reasons she still does not understand, she did not change.
Long she had asked why didn't she change. All her books gave no answer, all her years of experience in witchcraft gave no clue. A visit to her master, though, from whom she learnt the Craft, revealed the most likely reason.
"You have, by far, the most tempestuous will of all those that I have taught," her master had said. "Your will changes faster than the flapping of the hummingbird's wings sometimes, and I once feared that you may not be able to control your power because of that. That is why you were not affected by the curse in any way, for only those who are considered strong-willed are usually the first to fall."
Yet still she wondered over the seeming contradiction. She had always watched the vampires of the Manor from afar, and knew all that had happened. She was quite fascinated with the pure-blood as well; and had come to admire him more because of the sense of honor he still held even as a vampire.
Pushing aside all thoughts, she put out the cauldron flames and got her scrying shard from her shelf. Going outside, she stopped at the edge of the woods, and bent down to trace a pentagram on the soil.
And standing in the center of the star, she chanted:
Invoking the Light
Shinest upon thee now!
None shall harm thee,
For I am the Defender
And I am your Shield!
She felt her power slowly drain into the earth, and wished for his safety. The world is hostile to their kind, and greatly she feared for his safety.
With one swift swipe, she cut her palm with the scyring shard and let the blood drip at each point of the pentagram.
Through my blood
Let this spell be bound
To the Rules and Oaths of the Goddess!
She closed her eyes, and let her power empty to the earth. Wherever he may be now, the Goddess will protect him, by the oath bound by the blood of a witch.
That was the only thing that she could give him now, aside from her answer.
26.9.07
conversation
Fiction again, sadly.
Talk to me.
It doesn't matter if it's about what. As long as I hear you, it's good enough for me. Over cups of coffee or not even face to face, doesn't matter--it's you and your thoughts that matter.
All I want is just to listen; to taste your words and twirl them with my tongue, feeling every shape of each syllable as I imitate your speech like a baby learning her first words. New yet familiar, I sink into a state of jamais vu as your voice drops to a whisper when you reach the end and reason of all that has been said and done.
Succintly summarized in three words that I can barely say.
Talk to me.
It doesn't matter if it's about what. As long as I hear you, it's good enough for me. Over cups of coffee or not even face to face, doesn't matter--it's you and your thoughts that matter.
All I want is just to listen; to taste your words and twirl them with my tongue, feeling every shape of each syllable as I imitate your speech like a baby learning her first words. New yet familiar, I sink into a state of jamais vu as your voice drops to a whisper when you reach the end and reason of all that has been said and done.
Succintly summarized in three words that I can barely say.
25.9.07
paths
I am actually dumbfounded as accolades, some uninvited, are laid at my feet. I never believed much in myself anyway--there will and was always someone better or lousier than I am/was, and I'll always be just a little above average. Call me cynical but that's the way it is. I was never fully sure about any of my paths as well, and I feel I'm losing the spark.
Maybe because I'm currently torn between two paths and about something I used to be so sure about.
Then again, it was only society that said I can't take both. And I've almost always disregarded those constructs anyway.
Maybe because I'm currently torn between two paths and about something I used to be so sure about.
Then again, it was only society that said I can't take both. And I've almost always disregarded those constructs anyway.
23.9.07
-_-;;
This is one of those pretty annoying days where everything seems to go out of hand.
Was supposed to go with Kat to watch some movie, but since she had a group meeting with her classmates for some school project, it got moved to next week. It was already late when I found out that her group project thing didn't push through. The UAAP game in Araneta made malling in Gateway impossible, so even if she was free, I was hesitant.
Since the movie thing was postponed, I instead went with mom to Megamall. We went to a pre-Christmas bazaar, where I saw this cute but horribly expensive silver ring--let's just say that half of my week's allowance would be wiped out if I bought that, and I'm not willing to starve for a ring. Pretty disappointed at that; so I bought a simple bag instead to replace the pink fish one that the cat chewed on. After that mom went to have a full body massage, so I went to the few internet cafes there to look for a place where I could play PW. Sadly, there was none--Netopia only had 2 PCs with PW, and both were currently being used. I for the life of can't understand why only two PCs had the game installed, so I asked for a refund (had to deposit 100 bucks at login).
I went across to Timezone instead to try my luck, but the place was too full. All games had some people waiting to play (except for those luck, spin-the-wheel type of games where winning is near-impossible). I roamed around the mall then for a bit before finally getting bored and so I ended up at the small Pacific Internet internet cafe where they didn't have any games as well. Mom fetched me there after her massage.
So we had a late lunch at Yoshinoya--the only highlight probably for the day aside from the bag. Yum. Bought some mini-donuts from Country Style and we went home; I expecting that I'd get a chance to play once I arrive here.
Turns out the connection was intermittent again, and just to access some webpages I had to refresh several times. I didn't even dare play anymore because of the fear that I'd only end up with a dead Yu Ling in my hands. While waiting for a webpage to load, I pushed back the chair, and a chair leg came off. Good thing I didn't fall.
Now I'm typing while standing up, and I need to get a new chair (it's beyond repair already). So much for playing with relative ease at home.
Oh well. I hope dinner will be better; smells nice from up here.
Was supposed to go with Kat to watch some movie, but since she had a group meeting with her classmates for some school project, it got moved to next week. It was already late when I found out that her group project thing didn't push through. The UAAP game in Araneta made malling in Gateway impossible, so even if she was free, I was hesitant.
Since the movie thing was postponed, I instead went with mom to Megamall. We went to a pre-Christmas bazaar, where I saw this cute but horribly expensive silver ring--let's just say that half of my week's allowance would be wiped out if I bought that, and I'm not willing to starve for a ring. Pretty disappointed at that; so I bought a simple bag instead to replace the pink fish one that the cat chewed on. After that mom went to have a full body massage, so I went to the few internet cafes there to look for a place where I could play PW. Sadly, there was none--Netopia only had 2 PCs with PW, and both were currently being used. I for the life of can't understand why only two PCs had the game installed, so I asked for a refund (had to deposit 100 bucks at login).
I went across to Timezone instead to try my luck, but the place was too full. All games had some people waiting to play (except for those luck, spin-the-wheel type of games where winning is near-impossible). I roamed around the mall then for a bit before finally getting bored and so I ended up at the small Pacific Internet internet cafe where they didn't have any games as well. Mom fetched me there after her massage.
So we had a late lunch at Yoshinoya--the only highlight probably for the day aside from the bag. Yum. Bought some mini-donuts from Country Style and we went home; I expecting that I'd get a chance to play once I arrive here.
Turns out the connection was intermittent again, and just to access some webpages I had to refresh several times. I didn't even dare play anymore because of the fear that I'd only end up with a dead Yu Ling in my hands. While waiting for a webpage to load, I pushed back the chair, and a chair leg came off. Good thing I didn't fall.
Now I'm typing while standing up, and I need to get a new chair (it's beyond repair already). So much for playing with relative ease at home.
Oh well. I hope dinner will be better; smells nice from up here.
22.9.07
five things i want to do before i die
1. Learn to ride a motorbike and cruise near top speed along a deserted highway
2. Volunteer for some cause even for a short while
3. Submit an entry for either the English poetry or short story category of the Palanca awards
4. Move out of the house and live in a place I own (or even rent)
5. Graduate from college
2. Volunteer for some cause even for a short while
3. Submit an entry for either the English poetry or short story category of the Palanca awards
4. Move out of the house and live in a place I own (or even rent)
5. Graduate from college
19.9.07
monotony
Another day passing into the covers of night, only to resurface the next, like nothing has changed. Or more like, nothing will. As Last Dance plays endlessly again on the PC, I will dream, or I try to.
And I find myself leering away from my daily routine (both curricular and extra-curricular). Not that I'm not enjoying it anymore, it's just me with all other things--I easliy get bored. Then again I remind myself that events/special occasions are special because they happen so few and far between; if they happen everyday then they'd become normal and ordinary too. I don't want that.
I wish for a spark that would make me look forward to every sunrise.
And I find myself leering away from my daily routine (both curricular and extra-curricular). Not that I'm not enjoying it anymore, it's just me with all other things--I easliy get bored. Then again I remind myself that events/special occasions are special because they happen so few and far between; if they happen everyday then they'd become normal and ordinary too. I don't want that.
I wish for a spark that would make me look forward to every sunrise.
13.9.07
propheteering
Empty pages.
An apparent nonsense
unraveled
now meaningful.
Like prophets denounced
insane, madmen.
Yet when the earth dissolves into
these empty pages
why don't these prophets just buy
or build
their own bomb shelters
save themselves?
Or that save everyone shit
is just a meek ploy
to get someone
to act insane
as well.
An apparent nonsense
unraveled
now meaningful.
Like prophets denounced
insane, madmen.
Yet when the earth dissolves into
these empty pages
why don't these prophets just buy
or build
their own bomb shelters
save themselves?
Or that save everyone shit
is just a meek ploy
to get someone
to act insane
as well.
12.9.07
stripped
I let you
undress me
shedding off all my disguises and lies
pulling them all off
and letting them fall to the floor in a mangled heap.
For in your embrace
there is no need for illusion,
I am tired of this endless role-play.
And only when unmasked
one can see a smile
curling up at the corners of my lips.
undress me
shedding off all my disguises and lies
pulling them all off
and letting them fall to the floor in a mangled heap.
For in your embrace
there is no need for illusion,
I am tired of this endless role-play.
And only when unmasked
one can see a smile
curling up at the corners of my lips.
9.9.07
despair
It's another one of those days where I find myself just drifting between words and worlds, somehow a bit exhausted. Obligations pile up in front of me, but I don't give a goddamn and somehow I'll just worry about it later. Maybe I'm just tired and all, or maybe it's the weather, but whatever the reason, its still crazy me half-restrained/constrained and just letting myself empty like a tin can being drifted by the current down the dead dirty river of humanity.
The rain now lashes against the windows and I close them to prevent my notes from getting wet. Yet there's this side of me that wants to go out and dance in this impromptu storm like it's the best darned thing that has happened in a long time, singing a rainsong and heralding the end of the drought.
And I end up asking myself, why do I prevent myself from this release that I am after? Not just the dance in the rain, but in everything else, from saying those clichéd three words and just losing myself and my pride in the process.
The rain now lashes against the windows and I close them to prevent my notes from getting wet. Yet there's this side of me that wants to go out and dance in this impromptu storm like it's the best darned thing that has happened in a long time, singing a rainsong and heralding the end of the drought.
And I end up asking myself, why do I prevent myself from this release that I am after? Not just the dance in the rain, but in everything else, from saying those clichéd three words and just losing myself and my pride in the process.
1.9.07
self-righteousness
Sometimes I doubt my reasons.
I swore to defend my people, the only reason I took on this job. But as useless, bureaucracy gets in the way. The solution was so darned easy, yet for the life of me I wonder why they won't fix it. They could've easily fixed that if they wanted to, but then again, it's not in their ballpark anymore.
And such a thousand implications of just a name. That's why I have many names--like a thousand selves, when one is forbidden, I would simply change.
This is one of the days that sometimes what people define as wrong and right aren't clear. And I wish that next time I'll find the courage to stand up and say or do what I see as the only white in a sea of grey.
I swore to defend my people, the only reason I took on this job. But as useless, bureaucracy gets in the way. The solution was so darned easy, yet for the life of me I wonder why they won't fix it. They could've easily fixed that if they wanted to, but then again, it's not in their ballpark anymore.
And such a thousand implications of just a name. That's why I have many names--like a thousand selves, when one is forbidden, I would simply change.
This is one of the days that sometimes what people define as wrong and right aren't clear. And I wish that next time I'll find the courage to stand up and say or do what I see as the only white in a sea of grey.
29.8.07
dropping
I'm typing this as I wait for mom to finish taking a bath.
Dropping two subjects, I taste a bit of failure and release. Sure, the Archeo I'd miss, but not the Chem, since our prof even with his credentials wasn't really a good teacher. Surprisingly mom was okay with it, even joking that life in UP wasn't complete without dropping/failing. And yes I think she's right--we do learn the most important things in life outside the classroom, and in this case, in leaving the classroom. To learn that we'd all fail once in a while, but we have to move on smiling though deep inside you feel really horrible.
So I ended up looking for some short courses (since I would end up with just one class on Tuesdays and Fridays, and mom didn't want that) and I'll probably take one on Photoshop at Informatics, something I really wanted to do for so long but always kept on being railroaded by other more pressing stuff like advance classes and such. And there's the issue of my other subjects on Thursday as well.
Oh well. There's a time for everything, and everything a time.
Dropping two subjects, I taste a bit of failure and release. Sure, the Archeo I'd miss, but not the Chem, since our prof even with his credentials wasn't really a good teacher. Surprisingly mom was okay with it, even joking that life in UP wasn't complete without dropping/failing. And yes I think she's right--we do learn the most important things in life outside the classroom, and in this case, in leaving the classroom. To learn that we'd all fail once in a while, but we have to move on smiling though deep inside you feel really horrible.
So I ended up looking for some short courses (since I would end up with just one class on Tuesdays and Fridays, and mom didn't want that) and I'll probably take one on Photoshop at Informatics, something I really wanted to do for so long but always kept on being railroaded by other more pressing stuff like advance classes and such. And there's the issue of my other subjects on Thursday as well.
Oh well. There's a time for everything, and everything a time.
27.8.07
of casts and napkins--a girlish rant
My cast got yanked off earlier after tempers flew--apparently those clinic staff didn't list my appointment, and my ortho who was currently down with the flu had to drive from Bulacan to Megamall just to remove it since we're already there, which shows how good as a doctor he really is. And yes that was a very long run-on sentence, but since I'm rushing I'm going into my "hell with grammar" mode again. With that cast off, all I have to contend with is 2 weeks' worth of theraphy (one on Wednesday again, which again removes my play/work time, and means that I'll be back to almost sleepless nights again).
And to contend with my period which conveniently decided to start today, too. x_x Since earlier my foot was still in the cast, after a quick shower, I was about to dress up when I noticed (since I was still unable to walk that morning and I was just in a towel) that there were no napkins around. My grandmother, of course, didn't have any, and my mom and aunt were both upstairs.
So I had no choice but to bloody yell my heart out for either my mom or aunt, and to my utter frustration, my mom was still taking a bath and my aunt was just dressing up.
My grandmother came, though, and my grandfather. But since my grandmother wasn't able to climb the stairs (well according to her, but she's well enough), my grandfather asked me what I needed upstairs. And I told him I needed a napkin, forgetting the facts that a) Some men still don't know what those are for and b) My grandfather was born before those were invented, which further complicates the issue. So all I get is a blank stare.
Thank goodness our maid, Ate Mely, comes to the rescue, and she was able to procure not just one but two napkins from my aunt before I had to yell again for napkins and shatter the imagined peace of the neighborhood.
So all's well that end's well, for now. The real battle begins tomorrow, when the deluge of schoolwork drowns me--and I can barely swim.
And to contend with my period which conveniently decided to start today, too. x_x Since earlier my foot was still in the cast, after a quick shower, I was about to dress up when I noticed (since I was still unable to walk that morning and I was just in a towel) that there were no napkins around. My grandmother, of course, didn't have any, and my mom and aunt were both upstairs.
So I had no choice but to bloody yell my heart out for either my mom or aunt, and to my utter frustration, my mom was still taking a bath and my aunt was just dressing up.
My grandmother came, though, and my grandfather. But since my grandmother wasn't able to climb the stairs (well according to her, but she's well enough), my grandfather asked me what I needed upstairs. And I told him I needed a napkin, forgetting the facts that a) Some men still don't know what those are for and b) My grandfather was born before those were invented, which further complicates the issue. So all I get is a blank stare.
Thank goodness our maid, Ate Mely, comes to the rescue, and she was able to procure not just one but two napkins from my aunt before I had to yell again for napkins and shatter the imagined peace of the neighborhood.
So all's well that end's well, for now. The real battle begins tomorrow, when the deluge of schoolwork drowns me--and I can barely swim.
25.8.07
the simpsons and online gaming
Marge: Wow Moe, you're a troll!
Moe: What? No! My character's supposed to look like me! Why does everyone keep thinking I'm a troll!?
LOL.
24.8.07
sein
I've finally finished his layout--one of the hardest job that I had to do, owing to the fact that the screenies he sent were a bit small. I'll upload it tom., and I hope he likes it.
the isle and the mariner
You discover me one night
emmeshed in white cotton seas
a lone isle.
You, trusting the stars
intuitively and foolishly
like a Mariner of old.
First you chart my every contour,
every ridge, cliff, overhang
Your hands swiftly yet firmly
mapping every nook and cranny.
Then you disembark
and scale my peaks
discovering treasures I've once so hidden
Now, I offer out to you.
As you grow weary
you pitch camp
and sleep soundlessly
upon my bosom.
And though you may leave
at the crack of dawn
to seek out other lone isles
with the stars as your guides
I know you'll return to me
home
a lone isle in these seas of cotton.
emmeshed in white cotton seas
a lone isle.
You, trusting the stars
intuitively and foolishly
like a Mariner of old.
First you chart my every contour,
every ridge, cliff, overhang
Your hands swiftly yet firmly
mapping every nook and cranny.
Then you disembark
and scale my peaks
discovering treasures I've once so hidden
Now, I offer out to you.
As you grow weary
you pitch camp
and sleep soundlessly
upon my bosom.
And though you may leave
at the crack of dawn
to seek out other lone isles
with the stars as your guides
I know you'll return to me
home
a lone isle in these seas of cotton.
23.8.07
layout, layout, layout
Because of this layout (which surprisingly many found to be, err, cute) I've accepted requests to make backgrounds for Blogger and well also Friendster (he asked me to). Not entirely layouts, since I'm not that good at coding (I only know basic HTML and CSS) and there's the issue of hosting as well. I've already finished one for smoking engine, but I'll have to wait for later to try it out. The sad thing is I don't know if I'll have the time to finish the requests. Specially for his Friendster background, since he'll only mail it on Saturday.
I'll have to make time for it then. :)
I'll have to make time for it then. :)
22.8.07
on the wings of a dream
Finally finished a new background for this blog--one of the easiest I've done, since it didin't involve me rushing around the whole expanse of cyberspace looking for pics. The main pic is just my character's screenie from PW-Ph (the same one I sent him), the uncial font from Lord Kyl's Medieval and Fantasy Fonts and all others just the defaults from Photoshop CS. And the quote thingy is related to my last post.
17.8.07
online/fantasy/on life
I'm sitting here, alone, with only my old kimono for company. Good thing the connection's pretty stable today, or I'd be a bit annoyed again; the dog's asleep, and I can't really relate to my grandfather and grandmother's conversations.
Another petty argument with mom last night--she threatened to rescind all my gaming priviledges, which of course I (or the gamer side of me) didn't want to happen. Like all other petty arguments with mothers, you kiss and make up after around 5 minutes (the worst was only a day). You can't blame mothers either, you know they love you but they just don't seem to understand the life of a gamer (or even a one-part gamer like I am).
They'll never understand that for a gamer, the online life is as important as the real life, and without one, there wouldn't be the other. It was never just a mirror, for mirrors just reflect, but they do not cause change on either the real or the reflected side.
Virtual worlds, I believe, is like the whole genre of fantasy in the arts: it's our dreams as kids, spilling over into the real world. It's the nearest thing that our dreams can come to a concrete form, our dreams of worlds where we could be justice and treachery, where we can become both ruler and pauper, with only one phrase uttered online/in-game and one click of the mouse.
If once we had authors and artists, now we have game developers. If once we saw ourselves in the shoes of a wizard slaying dragons or a elven warriors, now we are the wizards and the warriors.
Online is also the unification of our shared myths and legends--there's the concept in lit (I can't remember the exact term right now) that some myths are common in many cultures, such as the Great Flood and that of the Celestial Maiden. Pick any one game, and you'd see echoes of myths and legends mixing into one cohesive mix--if not in the storyline, in the design of the surroundings. Take Ragnarok Online for example--you have everything from Asian (Payon) to Western (Prontera) and even Middle Eastern (Morroc).
Sometimes we can't avoid the negative sides of our selves spilling over into these virtual worlds, too. We have people metamorphing into tyrants, their dreams of power overriding the dreams of others. We've had people who've dreamed of becoming strong irl becoming strong in-game, and exact revenge over those who they've think have oppressed them, including many innocents along the way, not realizing that it was them merely oppressing themselves with hate.
But since online is a spill-over of our offline lives, we can't avoid the reverse, too. We've heard of friendships and loves budding in the evergreen forests of any given online game and blossoming irl (or sometimes broken hearts as well, like in the case of the chixilogs). There's also the issue on RMT, where the rich irl are also the rich in-game. We've had people, wishing to be rulers, but being unable to do so because of society and the system irl, giving up their lives offline because they've found fulfillment in-game.
This is what always shows in the media--the sordid stories of people giving up their real lives just to play.
Yet we forget to ask, why do they do forsake their offline lives? Maybe because they've found a voice online; when offline they aren't heard. Maybe because they have the power in-game, and not irl.
And maybe, to bring them back, it's time to hear them and help each other build our dreamworlds irl too.
This post is written for the first week of the gmtristan.com Group Writing Project. Want to join? Clicky here.
Another petty argument with mom last night--she threatened to rescind all my gaming priviledges, which of course I (or the gamer side of me) didn't want to happen. Like all other petty arguments with mothers, you kiss and make up after around 5 minutes (the worst was only a day). You can't blame mothers either, you know they love you but they just don't seem to understand the life of a gamer (or even a one-part gamer like I am).
They'll never understand that for a gamer, the online life is as important as the real life, and without one, there wouldn't be the other. It was never just a mirror, for mirrors just reflect, but they do not cause change on either the real or the reflected side.
Virtual worlds, I believe, is like the whole genre of fantasy in the arts: it's our dreams as kids, spilling over into the real world. It's the nearest thing that our dreams can come to a concrete form, our dreams of worlds where we could be justice and treachery, where we can become both ruler and pauper, with only one phrase uttered online/in-game and one click of the mouse.
If once we had authors and artists, now we have game developers. If once we saw ourselves in the shoes of a wizard slaying dragons or a elven warriors, now we are the wizards and the warriors.
Online is also the unification of our shared myths and legends--there's the concept in lit (I can't remember the exact term right now) that some myths are common in many cultures, such as the Great Flood and that of the Celestial Maiden. Pick any one game, and you'd see echoes of myths and legends mixing into one cohesive mix--if not in the storyline, in the design of the surroundings. Take Ragnarok Online for example--you have everything from Asian (Payon) to Western (Prontera) and even Middle Eastern (Morroc).
Sometimes we can't avoid the negative sides of our selves spilling over into these virtual worlds, too. We have people metamorphing into tyrants, their dreams of power overriding the dreams of others. We've had people who've dreamed of becoming strong irl becoming strong in-game, and exact revenge over those who they've think have oppressed them, including many innocents along the way, not realizing that it was them merely oppressing themselves with hate.
But since online is a spill-over of our offline lives, we can't avoid the reverse, too. We've heard of friendships and loves budding in the evergreen forests of any given online game and blossoming irl (or sometimes broken hearts as well, like in the case of the chixilogs). There's also the issue on RMT, where the rich irl are also the rich in-game. We've had people, wishing to be rulers, but being unable to do so because of society and the system irl, giving up their lives offline because they've found fulfillment in-game.
This is what always shows in the media--the sordid stories of people giving up their real lives just to play.
Yet we forget to ask, why do they do forsake their offline lives? Maybe because they've found a voice online; when offline they aren't heard. Maybe because they have the power in-game, and not irl.
And maybe, to bring them back, it's time to hear them and help each other build our dreamworlds irl too.
This post is written for the first week of the gmtristan.com Group Writing Project. Want to join? Clicky here.
9.8.07
little spats
Had a little spat with mom again last night. All about my gaming again, and how I'm neglecting my studies again. For the record, I'm not--I didn't purposely put my foot in a damn cast on purpose. And my profs haven't emailed anything for me to do yet, so I'm pretty much clueless about what's happening in all of my classes right now.
And on me staying on the PC so long? Doesn't she realize that I talk to everybody in YM now? So what if Mark's the only one calling on the phone? The only reason why I'm not calling all my irl friends is that a) YM is cheaper because b) they're scattered all across the country already. If I really get pissed off I'll call them all on long distance and have a phone call marathon. While she's at it, I'll ask for three-way.
Sorry mom, I still love you, but you'll never understand. And I won't understand your side either. Can't we just live in cold tolerance?
I'll post more on this prolly later or never--either I'll type from what I jotted down on another notebook or start from scratch. Well whatever.
And on me staying on the PC so long? Doesn't she realize that I talk to everybody in YM now? So what if Mark's the only one calling on the phone? The only reason why I'm not calling all my irl friends is that a) YM is cheaper because b) they're scattered all across the country already. If I really get pissed off I'll call them all on long distance and have a phone call marathon. While she's at it, I'll ask for three-way.
Sorry mom, I still love you, but you'll never understand. And I won't understand your side either. Can't we just live in cold tolerance?
I'll post more on this prolly later or never--either I'll type from what I jotted down on another notebook or start from scratch. Well whatever.
6.8.07
cast
Stuck at home again for at least two weeks.
It all started with the PW Consumer Launch last Saturday. It was fun--well except that I tripped over that tire-obstacle thing in the Multi-terrain battle thing. Because of my (already wounded) pride, I refused first aid, and well basically ignored the pain. It was afternoon when that happened, and well I went home around 8, expecting the pain to subside the next morning with a little rest. After all, I had a field trip the next day.
Well I can't even move my foot yesterday, so I had to forego the field trip, and ended up having my foot cast in plaster of paris. Then returned earlier to the clinic to had the cast changed to a lighter but more expensive fiberglass one.
So no class for me again for at least two weeks. Oh well.
It all started with the PW Consumer Launch last Saturday. It was fun--well except that I tripped over that tire-obstacle thing in the Multi-terrain battle thing. Because of my (already wounded) pride, I refused first aid, and well basically ignored the pain. It was afternoon when that happened, and well I went home around 8, expecting the pain to subside the next morning with a little rest. After all, I had a field trip the next day.
Well I can't even move my foot yesterday, so I had to forego the field trip, and ended up having my foot cast in plaster of paris. Then returned earlier to the clinic to had the cast changed to a lighter but more expensive fiberglass one.
So no class for me again for at least two weeks. Oh well.
30.7.07
signs of the times
I was poking around in Friendster earlier and well, being the curious idiot that I sometimes am, clickied on this site:
http://salaamlove.com/
Well, it seems that they are also trying to catch up with the times.
---------------->
I promise I'll write about the previous days' events in detail. I'll just have to finish some schoolwork and several writing jobs, that's all.
http://salaamlove.com/
Well, it seems that they are also trying to catch up with the times.
---------------->
I promise I'll write about the previous days' events in detail. I'll just have to finish some schoolwork and several writing jobs, that's all.
27.7.07
a bit jaded
I am driving myself into the ground. Been up since 5am this morning, and only had a wink of sleep around 7am-ish while stuck in traffic. And I can't really stop; my mind is still damn awake and I'm past the threshold of sleep.
So I compose a little mental to-do list and posting it so it'd be final--
To-do list:
>Greenhills tom. for Geog 1
>Sunday: movie marathon with mom
>Archaeo 2 article review on Tues.
>several Deutsch worksheets for Monday
>and several more writing jobs (indefinite)
>and also a new skin (until I get an idea)
Then add my cold that's not going away. I should really go and seek medical help since it's already a week, but then I have no time. Or rather I have time but I'd rather spend it somewhere doing something else.
Never got to send an entry to the Catharsis contest. Had started on a poem earlier in the day, about 2 lines, which is enough to get the ball rolling, but other more important matters like class intruded my self-induced trance-like state. Oh well there's always next year. I hope.
So I compose a little mental to-do list and posting it so it'd be final--
To-do list:
>Greenhills tom. for Geog 1
>Sunday: movie marathon with mom
>Archaeo 2 article review on Tues.
>several Deutsch worksheets for Monday
>and several more writing jobs (indefinite)
>and also a new skin (until I get an idea)
Then add my cold that's not going away. I should really go and seek medical help since it's already a week, but then I have no time. Or rather I have time but I'd rather spend it somewhere doing something else.
Never got to send an entry to the Catharsis contest. Had started on a poem earlier in the day, about 2 lines, which is enough to get the ball rolling, but other more important matters like class intruded my self-induced trance-like state. Oh well there's always next year. I hope.
26.7.07
selfish self-expression.
Three posts in a day. Yes, this is bad and it's getting worse.
The poetry contest for Catharsis closes tomorrow, and until now I am faced with a blank screen, empty as I am. If only in the midst of this despair I can find the muse, but she never speaks about ending; she only speaks of what is. Time is immaterial to her, the one entity never facing any deadlines. Or is she afraid; for she hides when I seek her voice in the midst of the chaos of the end.
And again I question my reasons for writing.
Why do I write? I believe writers are pretty selfish souls torturing pieces of paper--and now the expanse of cyberspace--through the act of unburdening their feelings that in normal circumstances would be just swept under the rug in the run of things. All in the name of self-expression.
And writing in the hopes that somewhere someone out there would say that "I feel the same" and they would find each other through fanmail then mope/laugh/cry/share the same emotions. So slowly more would find more and they'd be one whole community sharing the same sentiment, and the seeds of a revolution are planted. And as they say, rinse and repeat, though some revolutions do prosper but some sputter out and die like an old car engine that's been maintained poorly.
Yes, I do believe I'm pretty selfish myself; then again, who's not? I remember Tine's words: even the act of compassion is selfish, since you help because the act of seeing someone else happy makes you happy.
So everything can be consdered as selfish.
Sorry little paper but I've got no one else better to talk to right now.
The poetry contest for Catharsis closes tomorrow, and until now I am faced with a blank screen, empty as I am. If only in the midst of this despair I can find the muse, but she never speaks about ending; she only speaks of what is. Time is immaterial to her, the one entity never facing any deadlines. Or is she afraid; for she hides when I seek her voice in the midst of the chaos of the end.
And again I question my reasons for writing.
Why do I write? I believe writers are pretty selfish souls torturing pieces of paper--and now the expanse of cyberspace--through the act of unburdening their feelings that in normal circumstances would be just swept under the rug in the run of things. All in the name of self-expression.
And writing in the hopes that somewhere someone out there would say that "I feel the same" and they would find each other through fanmail then mope/laugh/cry/share the same emotions. So slowly more would find more and they'd be one whole community sharing the same sentiment, and the seeds of a revolution are planted. And as they say, rinse and repeat, though some revolutions do prosper but some sputter out and die like an old car engine that's been maintained poorly.
Yes, I do believe I'm pretty selfish myself; then again, who's not? I remember Tine's words: even the act of compassion is selfish, since you help because the act of seeing someone else happy makes you happy.
So everything can be consdered as selfish.
Sorry little paper but I've got no one else better to talk to right now.
annoyed
Now a shift back to reality and for some odd reason, YM decided to conk out when I need it most: me and Victoria's report making process+some storywriting. Don't know if it's my connection or what, since browsing is still normal but PW's also too laggy to be playable (died 2 times without even getting halfway through the quest).
So yes, I am visibly annoyed right now. Sorry Delirium, but Despair's winning me over.
So yes, I am visibly annoyed right now. Sorry Delirium, but Despair's winning me over.
still another random rambling
Like a little lost kid I flip tabs of webpages littered across the vast expanse of space called the internet, looking for some map that will lead me home or somewhere, whichever is nearer.
Ambivalent.
Delirium passed me by on the steps leading down to the FC earlier, and I suppose that's the reason why I'm feeling halfway between obnoxiously happy and seriously depressed right now. Or it's the after-effect of listening to the story of the butcher (who was reincarnated as a cellphone vendor in this age) and the many other koans.
And I hope that you don't interpret this like the younger monk did.
Ambivalent.
Delirium passed me by on the steps leading down to the FC earlier, and I suppose that's the reason why I'm feeling halfway between obnoxiously happy and seriously depressed right now. Or it's the after-effect of listening to the story of the butcher (who was reincarnated as a cellphone vendor in this age) and the many other koans.
And I hope that you don't interpret this like the younger monk did.
23.7.07
writing and playing
The problem with good games is that they tend to get me hooked, which explains the absence of very recent posts here.
PW-Ph's open beta started on the 18th, and except for Friday (was knocked out by a terrible cold and until now I'm still not completely well), I played most of my free time away. Not that I've completely stopped writing--there are too many nice thoughts whispered by the muse that cannot be ignored--but they're jotted down hurriedly on random scraps of paper and my trusty old notebook. Some of them were actually bordering on the fanfic side, which again shows how hooked I am again to gaming.
Well I expect it to be just in the first few months of playing. When I get to the grinding side of levelling, I probably would go back to writing straight to PC again. And posting here as well.
PW-Ph's open beta started on the 18th, and except for Friday (was knocked out by a terrible cold and until now I'm still not completely well), I played most of my free time away. Not that I've completely stopped writing--there are too many nice thoughts whispered by the muse that cannot be ignored--but they're jotted down hurriedly on random scraps of paper and my trusty old notebook. Some of them were actually bordering on the fanfic side, which again shows how hooked I am again to gaming.
Well I expect it to be just in the first few months of playing. When I get to the grinding side of levelling, I probably would go back to writing straight to PC again. And posting here as well.
15.7.07
rambling again
I pop another tablet into my mouth; downing it with more than enough water to get it into my system. Hoping for relief would be an understatement--looking for a cure is more like it. More like looking for an escape hatch down some hole into nowhere, where I am untied from all responsibility. But I fear in that escape, words would not find me anymore.
11.7.07
another end
PW-CBT is ending much later today (it's already 1am on my clock), and well, it was a fun ride. Thanks to all who've made it memorable, and hope to see you all in OB! :)
Here's what I made in waiting-->here. It'll be my sig too tomorrow (I'll make a smaller version).
Now the waiting game starts.
Here's what I made in waiting-->here. It'll be my sig too tomorrow (I'll make a smaller version).
Now the waiting game starts.
9.7.07
words
Originally written on 08.07.07
Odd that for a (or rather an aspiring) writer, words don't affect me that much.
That wasn't always the case. When I was younger, only a little tease and I'd burst out crying. I was the unofficial crybaby in our circle of cousins, and our almost everyday dialogue would go like this:
Pinsan 1: *teases me* Haha! Di mo abot o!
Me: WAAAH! Abot ko naman eh! *starts crying*
Pinsan 2: Iyakin! Iyakin!
Me: *starts bawling* Di ako iyakin!
Pinsan 3: Hala lakas ng iyak o!
Lola: *comes out of house* Ano na naman ginawa ninyo?! Magsiuwian nga muna kayo!
*all cousins leave*
Me: *would still be crying*
But now, hurl those insults at me and I'd either a) reply sarcastically, b) laugh (if you're one of my close friends) or c) just smile so annoyingly sweetly. This is so effective especially ingame; I remember the time that an arrogant player in (the soon to be defunct) pRose Polaris was mocking me. I just used tactic c and it went like this for at least 15 mins. in the entrance area of Luna Temple:
Player: Hoy weak!
Me: *silent*
Player: Weak!
Me: Ano naman kung weak ako? :)
Player: *shows off and uses that Raider poison skill on the monster that I'm killing, whatever that was called* Eh weak ka eh!
Me: ^_^ ok.
Player: Weak wag ka nga dito! *hits again the monster I'm killing*
Me: ^___________^ *hits screenie button*
That went on for some time and he just gave afterwards. I never got to report him anyway, and never did see him again.
Maybe because now I'm older and a tad more jaded, that words don't hurt me anymore. Sometimes I'm jusst enclosed in a shell of steel and mythril, apathetic to the world. For I have learned that there'll be always idiots in this world, and if I let them piss me off, it's only me that'll be having a hard time.
Some have managed to breach my shell, though. But it's more on because they've fired from inside; like the time that the CMship of Ethereal was suddenly left to us and everything fell apart. I have to admit that I didn't share the same vision, the drive and the time as my predecessor did. And when ideals clash, it's the start of the end. Words flew fast and swift, to and fro, and when the dust settled, nothing was left.
Or a still-hypothetical time when the right him would whisper those three words. After all, a smile can obliterate my defenses, though I'm having second thoughts about the whole thing already.
Odd that for a (or rather an aspiring) writer, words don't affect me that much.
That wasn't always the case. When I was younger, only a little tease and I'd burst out crying. I was the unofficial crybaby in our circle of cousins, and our almost everyday dialogue would go like this:
Pinsan 1: *teases me* Haha! Di mo abot o!
Me: WAAAH! Abot ko naman eh! *starts crying*
Pinsan 2: Iyakin! Iyakin!
Me: *starts bawling* Di ako iyakin!
Pinsan 3: Hala lakas ng iyak o!
Lola: *comes out of house* Ano na naman ginawa ninyo?! Magsiuwian nga muna kayo!
*all cousins leave*
Me: *would still be crying*
But now, hurl those insults at me and I'd either a) reply sarcastically, b) laugh (if you're one of my close friends) or c) just smile so annoyingly sweetly. This is so effective especially ingame; I remember the time that an arrogant player in (the soon to be defunct) pRose Polaris was mocking me. I just used tactic c and it went like this for at least 15 mins. in the entrance area of Luna Temple:
Player: Hoy weak!
Me: *silent*
Player: Weak!
Me: Ano naman kung weak ako? :)
Player: *shows off and uses that Raider poison skill on the monster that I'm killing, whatever that was called* Eh weak ka eh!
Me: ^_^ ok.
Player: Weak wag ka nga dito! *hits again the monster I'm killing*
Me: ^___________^ *hits screenie button*
That went on for some time and he just gave afterwards. I never got to report him anyway, and never did see him again.
Maybe because now I'm older and a tad more jaded, that words don't hurt me anymore. Sometimes I'm jusst enclosed in a shell of steel and mythril, apathetic to the world. For I have learned that there'll be always idiots in this world, and if I let them piss me off, it's only me that'll be having a hard time.
Some have managed to breach my shell, though. But it's more on because they've fired from inside; like the time that the CMship of Ethereal was suddenly left to us and everything fell apart. I have to admit that I didn't share the same vision, the drive and the time as my predecessor did. And when ideals clash, it's the start of the end. Words flew fast and swift, to and fro, and when the dust settled, nothing was left.
Or a still-hypothetical time when the right him would whisper those three words. After all, a smile can obliterate my defenses, though I'm having second thoughts about the whole thing already.
5.7.07
waiting/warten
Based on a picture, originally written in English, auto-translated and tweaked a bit into German for my assignment. Love that online translator--yes, I can't translate it all by myself yet. There's too much that I must learn, or must give up on learning.
Auf Englisch
Under this umbrella I've waited. A few days have passed, the days passing, fleeting across the horizon. And the rain thundered You ask me, why do I wait?
It is because he said he will come back for me together with our daughter. See? I even have her baby bag with me. And here's her milk and her little stuffed teddybear inside her bag. She would be happy when she sees these.
You say that I'm crazy?
Well is loving your daughter considered crazy? I'm sure she'll return to me, even if it takes a long time.
I must go with you?
No. I will wait here, even if it takes forever.
Auf Deutsch
Auf Englisch
Under this umbrella I've waited. A few days have passed, the days passing, fleeting across the horizon. And the rain thundered You ask me, why do I wait?
It is because he said he will come back for me together with our daughter. See? I even have her baby bag with me. And here's her milk and her little stuffed teddybear inside her bag. She would be happy when she sees these.
You say that I'm crazy?
Well is loving your daughter considered crazy? I'm sure she'll return to me, even if it takes a long time.
I must go with you?
No. I will wait here, even if it takes forever.
Auf Deutsch
Unter diesem Regenschirm habe ich gewartet. Wenig Tage hat passiert, die Tage passiert, über den Horizont flüchtig. Und der Regen donnerte, das Tanzen über das Land. Sie fragen mich, warum warte ich?
Es ist, weil er sagte, dass er für mich zusammen mit unserer Tochter zurückkommen wird. Sehen Sie das? Ich habe sogar ihre Baby-Tasche mit mir. Und ist hier ihre Milch und ihr kleiner vollgestopfter Teddybär innerhalb ihrer Tasche. Sie würde glücklich sein, wenn sie diese sieht.
Sie sagen, dass ich verrückt bin?
Das Lieben von jemandem ist nicht verrückt. Ich bin sicher, dass sie zu mir zurückkehrt, selbst wenn es eine lange Zeit nimmt.
Ich muss mit Ihnen gehen?
Nein. Ich werde hier warten, selbst wenn es für immer nehmen wird.
4.7.07
luna
At the crossing of frozen wings
And at the end of worlds
I will pour out
like a waterfall.
Upon these frozen plains we first met.
And upon these frozen plains
Everything will end.
And night shall fall
on the frozen heart of the second goddess.
And at the end of worlds
I will pour out
like a waterfall.
Upon these frozen plains we first met.
And upon these frozen plains
Everything will end.
And night shall fall
on the frozen heart of the second goddess.
disconnect
So there I lost my phone earlier, and after getting the customary sermon from mom, I'm pretty back much to normal. Except that there's this feeling of being cut off from all the latest chikka. And not being able to receive all those forwarded jokes. *sigh*
Oh well.
Oh well.
3.7.07
emo(ticon)
I look at shooting stars
laying crumpled inside the wastebasket.
A quick glow
then fading away
ready to be carted to the dumpsite
just like my words
and just like
my every emotion.
Hiding behind punctuation marks
smile, cry, laugh
I lose myself
in a mesh of words.
Sometimes
a couple of symbols
define emotion.
laying crumpled inside the wastebasket.
A quick glow
then fading away
ready to be carted to the dumpsite
just like my words
and just like
my every emotion.
Hiding behind punctuation marks
smile, cry, laugh
I lose myself
in a mesh of words.
Sometimes
a couple of symbols
define emotion.
snippets
Interspersed with fiction and reality, my thoughts having fluttered in the space between waking up and breakfast.
Fiction.
I wake up to the smell of brewing coffee downstairs.
It's his last pot before he leaves, and I know he wouldn't want to wake me up just yet.And as I tie in a bow the ribbon of my robe, I know I would miss that smell; it's useless brewing a pot of coffee just for one person.
I started to go down the stairs to the small living/dining room, silently, to surprise me. The suitcases stand near the door, neatly packed, all ready to leave. And on top of the small coffee table was a letter addressed to me, my name printed with his steady handwriting. Had he had it his way, he would've left without even saying goodbye, leaving me with just a note and a cup of coffee.
He was never good with farewells; I'd be usually the one who'd be saying goodbye whenever we attended some party or whatnot. He once remarked that he sometimes finds goodbyes were cruel, as if you'd never see that person again; he liked "see you" better.
I saw him sitting at the small dining table, facing the small patch of unpaved earth overran with small plants and weeds that we liked to call a garden. He was sipping coffee--it was one of the milder blends that I preferred, not his usual black.
"Morning," I whispered in his ear. "Getting from my coffee again?"
"Hey, after this I won't be brewing you coffee for a year, or until I come back."
"Who said I was complaining?"
I managed a weak smile and went to get my own cup. It's only a year, I remind myself. Only a year. I returned to the dining table just to watch him finish his coffee; breakfast just later on the plane. Then the customary goodbyes--or rather, see yous, before he loaded his luggage and boarded the cab.
It's better this way, I try to convince myself.
And after the cab drove away, I went back inside and drained the remnants of the coffee into the sink. I washed the pot, and packed it inside the box. Shame really, it was a pretty new coffeemaker, makes just enough coffee for two.
I'll be sticking to instant until he returns.
Fact
I woke up to sunlight streaming through my bedroom windows. It's another day of supposed rest; I'll be going back to school tomorrow. And today, there's nothing but me and an empty sheet waiting to be filled with random musings.
There's still no certain "he" in my story, no scent of coffee to wake me up. But there's also no pain of leaving, no pain of separation. Simply because there's no pain to speak of.
Only a hollow feeling; and I am reminded of what a wise writer once left in my sig sheet.
Live. Write. Live.
Fiction.
I wake up to the smell of brewing coffee downstairs.
It's his last pot before he leaves, and I know he wouldn't want to wake me up just yet.And as I tie in a bow the ribbon of my robe, I know I would miss that smell; it's useless brewing a pot of coffee just for one person.
I started to go down the stairs to the small living/dining room, silently, to surprise me. The suitcases stand near the door, neatly packed, all ready to leave. And on top of the small coffee table was a letter addressed to me, my name printed with his steady handwriting. Had he had it his way, he would've left without even saying goodbye, leaving me with just a note and a cup of coffee.
He was never good with farewells; I'd be usually the one who'd be saying goodbye whenever we attended some party or whatnot. He once remarked that he sometimes finds goodbyes were cruel, as if you'd never see that person again; he liked "see you" better.
I saw him sitting at the small dining table, facing the small patch of unpaved earth overran with small plants and weeds that we liked to call a garden. He was sipping coffee--it was one of the milder blends that I preferred, not his usual black.
"Morning," I whispered in his ear. "Getting from my coffee again?"
"Hey, after this I won't be brewing you coffee for a year, or until I come back."
"Who said I was complaining?"
I managed a weak smile and went to get my own cup. It's only a year, I remind myself. Only a year. I returned to the dining table just to watch him finish his coffee; breakfast just later on the plane. Then the customary goodbyes--or rather, see yous, before he loaded his luggage and boarded the cab.
It's better this way, I try to convince myself.
And after the cab drove away, I went back inside and drained the remnants of the coffee into the sink. I washed the pot, and packed it inside the box. Shame really, it was a pretty new coffeemaker, makes just enough coffee for two.
I'll be sticking to instant until he returns.
Fact
I woke up to sunlight streaming through my bedroom windows. It's another day of supposed rest; I'll be going back to school tomorrow. And today, there's nothing but me and an empty sheet waiting to be filled with random musings.
There's still no certain "he" in my story, no scent of coffee to wake me up. But there's also no pain of leaving, no pain of separation. Simply because there's no pain to speak of.
Only a hollow feeling; and I am reminded of what a wise writer once left in my sig sheet.
Live. Write. Live.
1.7.07
neunundneunzig
For non-Deutsch speakers: sorry for the title (if you can't pronounce it).
For Deutsch speakers: Yes, I am just bored.
As the title suggests, it's my 99th borne-out-of-sheer-boredom-post here (yay~!); a record by my blogging standards. Since everyone's either a) at the soft launch, b) studying and/or c) not in the same plane as I am, I'll just write to pass the time.
So...what to write, what to write.
Or maybe it's time to think about a new skin for the blog again. I have a few ideas already, but I can't seem to get them into a coherent visible form (like the heretic skin I was to make before but never seemed to materialize even with the aid of Photoshop).
And i give up on studying already--the zu+Infintiv thing doesn't make much sense. There's only so much that self-studying can do.
Oh what to do, what to do.
For Deutsch speakers: Yes, I am just bored.
As the title suggests, it's my 99th borne-out-of-sheer-boredom-post here (yay~!); a record by my blogging standards. Since everyone's either a) at the soft launch, b) studying and/or c) not in the same plane as I am, I'll just write to pass the time.
So...what to write, what to write.
Or maybe it's time to think about a new skin for the blog again. I have a few ideas already, but I can't seem to get them into a coherent visible form (like the heretic skin I was to make before but never seemed to materialize even with the aid of Photoshop).
And i give up on studying already--the zu+Infintiv thing doesn't make much sense. There's only so much that self-studying can do.
Oh what to do, what to do.
30.6.07
hospital food
So I'm finally back after vegetating in the hospital for one week because of a mild case of dengue, after missing a week's worth of classes, being hooked (and overdosing) on the IV, and well, getting sick of hospital food.
You'd appreciate the taste of a McDonald's cheeseburger after a week of almost uncooked veggies; though some of the breakfasts made up for it.
You'd appreciate the taste of a McDonald's cheeseburger after a week of almost uncooked veggies; though some of the breakfasts made up for it.
21.6.07
philosophy
So there we were, discussing the unaswerable question "What is Philosophy", which cannot be really answered either (like all other things in Philo, accdg. to Russell's essay). And when we got to the question "What is the value of Philosophy?", everybody's answer ranged from the essence of questioning to the definition of value in that particular sentence. Since, again, no completely right answers in Philo, the question continued to float around my conciousness until the ride home.
Then it struck me; the comparison that seems the most right for me (it's the nearest that I can come to an answer).
Maybe, Philosophy is like life. "Why live when we are going to die?" seems almost parallel to the principle of Philo that "Why ask questions when you know that it is just an endless search for the truth?" As Edmund Hillary once answered (on the reason why he decided to climb Everest): "It is there." It's probably the only thing that might separate us from animals; we question, we philosophize, even if it is utterly futile to do so in the constraints of society. It is human nature to ask why, and why not.
And maybe, these questions and this act of questioning will bring about change. For there are no right answers; change may be the nearest that we can get to an answer.
I hope I can be a part of it; no, I will become a part of it.
Then it struck me; the comparison that seems the most right for me (it's the nearest that I can come to an answer).
Maybe, Philosophy is like life. "Why live when we are going to die?" seems almost parallel to the principle of Philo that "Why ask questions when you know that it is just an endless search for the truth?" As Edmund Hillary once answered (on the reason why he decided to climb Everest): "It is there." It's probably the only thing that might separate us from animals; we question, we philosophize, even if it is utterly futile to do so in the constraints of society. It is human nature to ask why, and why not.
And maybe, these questions and this act of questioning will bring about change. For there are no right answers; change may be the nearest that we can get to an answer.
I hope I can be a part of it; no, I will become a part of it.
17.6.07
duality
My head is spinning. Lack of sleep, perhaps.
He hasn't logged on today. For what reason, I don't know; probably he went back home, or a night out with his friends. He probably told them last night, before he logged out, on whether he was going to play today or not. He was gone when I returned last night.
Status messages fill the chatbox.
And I am going insane. Silence fills the once noisy box; noisy in the context of voiceless playing where words speak for oneself. This made-up world seems all so real, and sometimes I feel that I would gladly trade it for the real one. If only if it was to be with him.
Diffuclt, to define what's real and not.
He hasn't logged on today. For what reason, I don't know; probably he went back home, or a night out with his friends. He probably told them last night, before he logged out, on whether he was going to play today or not. He was gone when I returned last night.
Status messages fill the chatbox.
And I am going insane. Silence fills the once noisy box; noisy in the context of voiceless playing where words speak for oneself. This made-up world seems all so real, and sometimes I feel that I would gladly trade it for the real one. If only if it was to be with him.
Diffuclt, to define what's real and not.
16.6.07
delirium
Words flow out like water. I am in the midst of a few conversations, but strangely enough, I still find meaning and solace in this blank text box waiting to be filled. Intermittent chats punctuate my musings, but I do not complain; sometimes these are all that I can hang on to. Silly as that may sound, but nonsense becomes meaningful when you are empty.
And fishies are soon to swim on the horizon.
And fishies are soon to swim on the horizon.
15.6.07
deutsch 14+15
The rumors that a German prof was going to handle Deutsch 14+15 was true; we met Frau Mende earlier, and yes, she's still not used to the weather. She apologized for not being there on the first day of classes: she only arrived in Manila Tuesday night; some mix up of schedules I believe. She's pretty young too: only 26 and it's her first time in this crazy country with a charm all its own.
She explained that in perfect German; in her words (well one of the few English sentences that she said during the whole period): "My English is not quite perfect and my Tagalog is nonexistent." We only half-understood everything that she said; mostly from context clues and the remnants of our Wortschatz. Not that she's a bad teacher, but she should go a bit easy on us in the meantime (as Jevic mentioned, she's already speaking to us as if we were in Deutsch 30+31 already).
Plus she gave us an assignment. Good luck to us.
She explained that in perfect German; in her words (well one of the few English sentences that she said during the whole period): "My English is not quite perfect and my Tagalog is nonexistent." We only half-understood everything that she said; mostly from context clues and the remnants of our Wortschatz. Not that she's a bad teacher, but she should go a bit easy on us in the meantime (as Jevic mentioned, she's already speaking to us as if we were in Deutsch 30+31 already).
Plus she gave us an assignment. Good luck to us.
14.6.07
flickerlight
The astronomer peeks at his telescope
But what am I to him?
I am only the flickering star
Not even seen
In this night.
I exist merely as a small pulse
A wave
Barely felt in the vastness of the cosmos.
I am only given a number:
OGLE-TR-122B.
This number defines my existence;
Not even enough to warrant a proper name.
After all, I shine not enough.
Yet probably, to the astronomer
through his telescope,
I am his star
The one he found on a lonely night atop a mountain observatory.
But what am I to him?
I am only the flickering star
Not even seen
In this night.
I exist merely as a small pulse
A wave
Barely felt in the vastness of the cosmos.
I am only given a number:
OGLE-TR-122B.
This number defines my existence;
Not even enough to warrant a proper name.
After all, I shine not enough.
Yet probably, to the astronomer
through his telescope,
I am his star
The one he found on a lonely night atop a mountain observatory.
13.6.07
moodswung
I think it's just one of those mornings that no matter how hard you try, the sun doesn't just seem to shine so brightly and the air's all so gloomy and stuff. A morning, even with the scent of cinnamon and coffee, doesn't seem to go all well. And all that for no concrete reason at all; just waking up and not even deciding to be emo because it didn't need a decision on your part. It's just because it is.
But outside, you try to get along with the flow of the world, for it won't stop for you anyway. And slowly you wish that'd if fade in the course of the day, but it's highly unlikely that it would; after all, night will still fall and you'll be alone at the end.
Moodswings may pass, but they don't totally go away.
But outside, you try to get along with the flow of the world, for it won't stop for you anyway. And slowly you wish that'd if fade in the course of the day, but it's highly unlikely that it would; after all, night will still fall and you'll be alone at the end.
Moodswings may pass, but they don't totally go away.
12.6.07
indie day
This'll probably be the weirdest Independence day that I've had so far, since it's also the first day of classes for us. For one, it's supposed to be a non-working holiday; and it's a Tuesday: I almost followed my MTh sked. I only realized that I was looking at my MTh sked when we were already talking about PE and prerog. Thanks Vic and Dheu for the reminders.
Like it mattered; only my Archaeo 2 class met and we were dismissed after around 10 mins (or the time that it took us to fill up the classcard and get the syllabus). I like the ASP room; filled with the shattered remnants of lost civilizations, cold aircontditioning, and a smorgasboard of junk and treasure. Perfect in my eyes.
I kinda skipped my Chem1; the "no class today" message was odd. It had my section on it but a diff time. Well, I paid for it already, so they can't cancel my slot. Besides, Dheu was commenting how she was always late+absent and still not dropped, getting a 2.00 in the process. Just in case, I have 5 absences left. lol
Our German 14+15 prof is still a mystery; but Jevic says that he/she might be a new prof. A foreigner, to boot, which will be a double-edged sword since a) he/she may be a native speaker of the language and b) at least it's not the terror prof but c) the accent and the teaching method may be vastly different and d) everybody's Deutsch is rusty (Jefra: Inaral ko lang yung "Ich habe vergessen." That's I have forgotten in Deutsch). We missed Frau Neri because of that; she was the only prof that I had that was never late in any of her classes.
And yes, you can now call me "Ate" irl if you're a freshie. I'm free from the freshie label! But god, now I feel so old.
Like it mattered; only my Archaeo 2 class met and we were dismissed after around 10 mins (or the time that it took us to fill up the classcard and get the syllabus). I like the ASP room; filled with the shattered remnants of lost civilizations, cold aircontditioning, and a smorgasboard of junk and treasure. Perfect in my eyes.
I kinda skipped my Chem1; the "no class today" message was odd. It had my section on it but a diff time. Well, I paid for it already, so they can't cancel my slot. Besides, Dheu was commenting how she was always late+absent and still not dropped, getting a 2.00 in the process. Just in case, I have 5 absences left. lol
Our German 14+15 prof is still a mystery; but Jevic says that he/she might be a new prof. A foreigner, to boot, which will be a double-edged sword since a) he/she may be a native speaker of the language and b) at least it's not the terror prof but c) the accent and the teaching method may be vastly different and d) everybody's Deutsch is rusty (Jefra: Inaral ko lang yung "Ich habe vergessen." That's I have forgotten in Deutsch). We missed Frau Neri because of that; she was the only prof that I had that was never late in any of her classes.
And yes, you can now call me "Ate" irl if you're a freshie. I'm free from the freshie label! But god, now I feel so old.
7.6.07
'fessing up
I admit it, I am not good at 'fessing up. I tried to tell him last night, but with a poorly constructed figure of speech he (I think) misread it, and well, it got nowhere. I was nearly in tears because of that, but then, I could never manage to be sad when he's around. Like a picker-upper drug I, well, just smiled and laughed afterwards like nothing has happened.
Well he won't be online for a few days. Enough time to get my bearings.
Well he won't be online for a few days. Enough time to get my bearings.
31.5.07
wingkind
As you might have guessed, PW's closed beta has taken up most of my time. It is really one of the best games I ever played--truly quest-based, not much of the grinding (although I have to grind a bit, I ran out of quests). I'm playing a Yu Ling, the Wingkind support class, currently at lv38. Pretty slow, though, but at least I'm levelling. Then again, that's only half the reason I play; he's there too. And too bad that cuddle function only works on guy-to-girl characters, he's chixi forever. He wanted to cuddle. Damn. I'm the Yu Ling to his Yu Mang. Nuff said.
Oh well.
Oh well.
17.5.07
...
Around a week has passed since I last posted (well, a decent post) here, and a lot of things have changed.
I'll post a separate entry on last Friday--or I won't. All I can say is that last Friday convinced me to join HOL. With a suprisingly fast-tracked application, I'm now considered a member, and now part of the all-day confes in YM. I think. LOL
And the CBT for PW is just a few hours away--I've checked the shops earlier, and they looked okay, though they said they won't install it until tomorrow.
Well, just wait and see.
I'll post a separate entry on last Friday--or I won't. All I can say is that last Friday convinced me to join HOL. With a suprisingly fast-tracked application, I'm now considered a member, and now part of the all-day confes in YM. I think. LOL
And the CBT for PW is just a few hours away--I've checked the shops earlier, and they looked okay, though they said they won't install it until tomorrow.
Well, just wait and see.
16.5.07
death quizzie...too lazy to write decent post
 | You scored as Poison. Your death will be by poison, probably because you are a glutton and are around so many people that it would be easy to get away with it. Several important people in history share your fate.
How Will You Die?? created with QuizFarm.com |
10.5.07
roleplay
The desktop's power supply has gone kaputt and so I'm forced to bring the laptop down--the LAN cable is tacked to the wall and hence, immobile. Probably the desktop' internal power supply; I've already checked the sockets (working well), the connections (seems to be in order), and the AVR (ok too). Good thing these things don't cost an arm, a leg, and half of the other arm--mom jokingly said that I might be forced to take an LOA from school just to pay for the repair costs. And good thing that all files are on the external hard drive--at least no data lost.
On the Roseboards a roleplay is in the planning stage--got one of the main character roles (protagonist, though), and well, let's just say that the casting looks interesting. I'd have to say though that some of these who will be RP'ing are realtively new to the art, and I myself am pretty rusty when it comes to this. And the plot is still not clearly planned out from my POV--the main diff between this and the LOTR roleplays is that the main LOTR roleplays that I've joined have definite endings like the massive Last Alliance plot. This, I guess, will be mostly play by ear.
I won't expect a lot from this either--it's just a start, and with the choice of the main antagonist, I'm afraid that the antagonist would turn out to be a one-dimensional character. I'm still using Annatariel for the RP--as usual, she'd be more in the gray than just the plain old black+white, good vs. evil protagonist.
And I'm looking around for a new template idea. I'm prolly doing one with Annatariel in the bg--which will entail a lot of work since a) I don't have a colored sketch of her and b) I'm not good when using irl drawings. And screenies won't do it either.
On the Roseboards a roleplay is in the planning stage--got one of the main character roles (protagonist, though), and well, let's just say that the casting looks interesting. I'd have to say though that some of these who will be RP'ing are realtively new to the art, and I myself am pretty rusty when it comes to this. And the plot is still not clearly planned out from my POV--the main diff between this and the LOTR roleplays is that the main LOTR roleplays that I've joined have definite endings like the massive Last Alliance plot. This, I guess, will be mostly play by ear.
I won't expect a lot from this either--it's just a start, and with the choice of the main antagonist, I'm afraid that the antagonist would turn out to be a one-dimensional character. I'm still using Annatariel for the RP--as usual, she'd be more in the gray than just the plain old black+white, good vs. evil protagonist.
And I'm looking around for a new template idea. I'm prolly doing one with Annatariel in the bg--which will entail a lot of work since a) I don't have a colored sketch of her and b) I'm not good when using irl drawings. And screenies won't do it either.
8.5.07
randomly generated passwords
I got terribly bored earlier and since I wasn't willing to pilot a character for a siege in RO (for one, I don't have an installer), I settled for Corum Online instead. And since it was ages ago that I last played the game, I had forgotten the password and so clicked on the forgot pass link at Gpotato.
I got one of those randomly generated passwords--an 8 number password, to be exact. So I got back into the login screen for Corum, and wonder of wonders, it's still incorrect.
I retyped it again. And again. Still incorrect.
So does that mean that their password generating machine is incorrect?
I got one of those randomly generated passwords--an 8 number password, to be exact. So I got back into the login screen for Corum, and wonder of wonders, it's still incorrect.
I retyped it again. And again. Still incorrect.
So does that mean that their password generating machine is incorrect?
7.5.07
cheap knock-offs
Some idiot ran away with stridermaster's sigs and decided to pass it off as his own. So earlier we were pretty much flamed that idiot on his sig-ordering thread (the nerve), and almost his friendster account--though we decided that went too low already. Good thing the final card plans are in storage...I think. >_<
59th
Sentiments echo through a noiseless valley, unheard and unheeded.
Is it time? I have been waiting for so long, and so near, so easy it sounds. The music plays in the background as I try and utterly fail to divine the secrets of the future and the past, the present fading away quickly into those two as I speak.
Is it time? I have been waiting for so long, and so near, so easy it sounds. The music plays in the background as I try and utterly fail to divine the secrets of the future and the past, the present fading away quickly into those two as I speak.
6.5.07
recap
I was supposed to write last Friday, but as usual procrastination became top of the priority list that day, and the day after (Saturday), so it's only today that I am writing again.
So what did happen from last post? Nothing much--me and ami went on a crazy trip to the LUG offices in Makati last Thursday. Ami needed to recover his myLU acct; he forgot both his username and password (yep, it's only now that he finally got to LUG). We also met Dave in Glorietta just to hand over the hard copy of Terra Nova. Though we were Polarians, the Sirian influence is already evident--the problem itself is Sirian--from forgetting to press the ground floor button in the elevator and wondering why it didn't stop at the ground floor to getting lost on the way to Glorietta because we got on the wrong bus. Then again, I'm Talan already, and therefore 4/5 Sirian. Which is not necessarily good unless you have a different concept of what a Sirian is. But oddly enough, it was a fun (mis)adventure.
Friday was the usual wall climbing thing--only made much harder with the routes. I'm not counting my completed climbs anymore, and honestly, I'll just worry about my grade when it comes. There's the written part anyway.
And yep, some know who he is already. Wayne guessed correctly, the first person to do so, after he made me give him some clues. I told Gulay, however, and he went :O Now the bigger question haunts me: when will I tell him myself?
So what did happen from last post? Nothing much--me and ami went on a crazy trip to the LUG offices in Makati last Thursday. Ami needed to recover his myLU acct; he forgot both his username and password (yep, it's only now that he finally got to LUG). We also met Dave in Glorietta just to hand over the hard copy of Terra Nova. Though we were Polarians, the Sirian influence is already evident--the problem itself is Sirian--from forgetting to press the ground floor button in the elevator and wondering why it didn't stop at the ground floor to getting lost on the way to Glorietta because we got on the wrong bus. Then again, I'm Talan already, and therefore 4/5 Sirian. Which is not necessarily good unless you have a different concept of what a Sirian is. But oddly enough, it was a fun (mis)adventure.
Friday was the usual wall climbing thing--only made much harder with the routes. I'm not counting my completed climbs anymore, and honestly, I'll just worry about my grade when it comes. There's the written part anyway.
And yep, some know who he is already. Wayne guessed correctly, the first person to do so, after he made me give him some clues. I told Gulay, however, and he went :O Now the bigger question haunts me: when will I tell him myself?
2.5.07
lamb
Mary had a little lamb.
But she got hungry.
Mary had a little lamb burger instead.
That went through my mind as I saw the lamb burgers for sale at Shopwise earlier. Mmm.
---->
Imagine stading in one place for 3 hours, just talking. That's what happened yesterday, except that it was online.
I was in Tala yesterday, since he was online and playing (well, actually everyone else on YM was busy, so I repatched and gave it a shot). We (I, him, and neo; them using other characters) ended up just talking and alt+tabbing in Junon for approx. 3 hours; only getting interrupted by people asking for buffs and talking to "GM" montoya (actually neo using toya's account).
Talking. Just talking, everything from school politics, supposed gender discrimination in gaming (or why the terms "bakla" and "bading" are censored but "tomboy is not"--something to bring to the attention of Danton Remoto and Ang Ladlad), toya's supposed gf, and well a bit of my past (though privately).
And I had fun, more than plain gaming, whatever game, will give.
But she got hungry.
Mary had a little lamb burger instead.
That went through my mind as I saw the lamb burgers for sale at Shopwise earlier. Mmm.
---->
Imagine stading in one place for 3 hours, just talking. That's what happened yesterday, except that it was online.
I was in Tala yesterday, since he was online and playing (well, actually everyone else on YM was busy, so I repatched and gave it a shot). We (I, him, and neo; them using other characters) ended up just talking and alt+tabbing in Junon for approx. 3 hours; only getting interrupted by people asking for buffs and talking to "GM" montoya (actually neo using toya's account).
Talking. Just talking, everything from school politics, supposed gender discrimination in gaming (or why the terms "bakla" and "bading" are censored but "tomboy is not"--something to bring to the attention of Danton Remoto and Ang Ladlad), toya's supposed gf, and well a bit of my past (though privately).
And I had fun, more than plain gaming, whatever game, will give.
28.4.07
fallacy
I'm waiting for a Mythbusters episode to load. Lola has cornered the TV set again with a "testimonial" about some fruit juice which claims to have magical healing properties. Presented via a cross between an service by some TV evangelist and a noontime game show, it doesn't sound very credible, even with some medical personnel on-board. And one testimonial was about a woman who joined a triathlon without training. C'mon.
If the juice is truly miraculous, why hasn't anyone made a paper on it yet in the scientific community?
And why do we keep on struggling to live longer when in the end we're going to die?
If the juice is truly miraculous, why hasn't anyone made a paper on it yet in the scientific community?
And why do we keep on struggling to live longer when in the end we're going to die?
27.4.07
11.50
I deny myself sleep in the hopes that in these moments, something will happen.
I stand alone in a mishmash of words seemingly meaningless. Only few have dared to find me and extricate me from this mess that I currently revel in, and so far no one has succeeded. I don't mind, anyway, it's in this glorious entropy that sometimes i find fleeting solace. But escape seems such a world away and the "it" doesn't make sense when you're in a world that doesn't even recognize you as its own.
I'm letting myself slip from the pre-ordained notion of order and letting my fingers do the typing.
Tick. Tick. Tick. The clock moves in a melancholy fashion, unaware of the seconds that it ticks away and how those seconds may mean forever for some and just a blink for another right now.
15 people online and I'm silent.
Call me incoherent in this last time of the day and/or night and I'll call you blind to sheer lunacy. No, I'm not drunk either. It's just sometimes I just have to write without any reason or purpose; free from the guidelines of proper writing and not giving a damn about an audience. Simply because I'm my own audience; my selfishness getting the better of me again.
Or maybe I'll just get someone to talk to.
Maybe I'll allow myself sleep, in a few moments.
I stand alone in a mishmash of words seemingly meaningless. Only few have dared to find me and extricate me from this mess that I currently revel in, and so far no one has succeeded. I don't mind, anyway, it's in this glorious entropy that sometimes i find fleeting solace. But escape seems such a world away and the "it" doesn't make sense when you're in a world that doesn't even recognize you as its own.
I'm letting myself slip from the pre-ordained notion of order and letting my fingers do the typing.
Tick. Tick. Tick. The clock moves in a melancholy fashion, unaware of the seconds that it ticks away and how those seconds may mean forever for some and just a blink for another right now.
15 people online and I'm silent.
Call me incoherent in this last time of the day and/or night and I'll call you blind to sheer lunacy. No, I'm not drunk either. It's just sometimes I just have to write without any reason or purpose; free from the guidelines of proper writing and not giving a damn about an audience. Simply because I'm my own audience; my selfishness getting the better of me again.
Or maybe I'll just get someone to talk to.
Maybe I'll allow myself sleep, in a few moments.
shattered
The blank page taunts me.
"You can't write now, can't you?"
And who am I, not to believe? After all, I haven't believed in myself lately, from seeing the remnants of my so-called principle lying broken among the rocks. So easy to break, like those expensive, perfectly-crafted jars of Chinese porcelain that shatter with just a minute push, falling down to the floor and disintegrating. To think I've built it for so long and just let it go.
So I let out my sometimes intermittent thoughts, and slowly the taunts silenced. But not for long, I know.
"You can't write now, can't you?"
And who am I, not to believe? After all, I haven't believed in myself lately, from seeing the remnants of my so-called principle lying broken among the rocks. So easy to break, like those expensive, perfectly-crafted jars of Chinese porcelain that shatter with just a minute push, falling down to the floor and disintegrating. To think I've built it for so long and just let it go.
So I let out my sometimes intermittent thoughts, and slowly the taunts silenced. But not for long, I know.
25.4.07
emo frogs (?!)
Posting again because of a new skin; I don't have any real title for this. This is supposed to be for Kat, but I like it too much. I'll just make her another one. Photos courtesy of kitchengifts.com (the frog is actually a pic of a cookie cutter) blogs.warwick.ac.uk (the girl with the umbrella), and stonehedgebpl.com for the pavement. The rain effects, well, too many to mention.
20.4.07
walls, elections, and a touch more of fire
A lot happened the past week. Since I want to write but I'm not exactly in the right, almost-possessed mood, I'll just try to narrate what exactly happened.
Thursday the 12th and Friday the 13th. It's 8.30am and I'm already on campus, Form 5a in hand. I got my Math, but not my PE subject; so it's off to the dept. for enlistment. Rachel was with me (Tine was at DECL, so we can't go together) and few of us anticipated that it'd be the start of the hellish summer registration. We then waited for hours at the DEL dept. for the servers to come back up; at 12pm, we left at the suggestion of Frau Neri that we just watch a film instead of waiting at the door. I finished the next day, getting Judo for PE; and meeting up with Sammm, Ayessa and Ahlee later at EDP.
Monday the 16th and Tuesday the 17th. Elections took a whole new meaning in Math 2. Judo got dissolved, and well, since nobody really knew the real pre-rog process I argued with a lot of people along the way. It got fixed the next day however. Sammm was with me, and she was to take the same Sports Climbing class. She got a slot first, but had to cancel it later since ther college in LB thought it was dangerous. *rolls eyes*
Wednesday the 18th. I messed up the traverse in PE, and the push ups too. Math was fine, though. Frustrating, really. >_<
Thursday the 19th. Finally ascended in KoL--as a Pastamancer. Now all I need are the ingredients, and I'm ready to go cooking my own pasta. Adv Saucecrafting+Pastamancery= Meat.
Today, Friday the 20th. So again I messed up on the Finals wall in Sports Climbing; and got to the 6th panel on Molly's Walk. It is really not my sport; should've taken Archery instead. Which made me miss Arnis more; it was so much fun, and well, I was pretty okay.
And looking back, all my previous posts have a touch of fire in them the past week. Probably just the weather--good thing the Math classroom is air-conditioned.
That's it for now.
Thursday the 12th and Friday the 13th. It's 8.30am and I'm already on campus, Form 5a in hand. I got my Math, but not my PE subject; so it's off to the dept. for enlistment. Rachel was with me (Tine was at DECL, so we can't go together) and few of us anticipated that it'd be the start of the hellish summer registration. We then waited for hours at the DEL dept. for the servers to come back up; at 12pm, we left at the suggestion of Frau Neri that we just watch a film instead of waiting at the door. I finished the next day, getting Judo for PE; and meeting up with Sammm, Ayessa and Ahlee later at EDP.
Monday the 16th and Tuesday the 17th. Elections took a whole new meaning in Math 2. Judo got dissolved, and well, since nobody really knew the real pre-rog process I argued with a lot of people along the way. It got fixed the next day however. Sammm was with me, and she was to take the same Sports Climbing class. She got a slot first, but had to cancel it later since ther college in LB thought it was dangerous. *rolls eyes*
Wednesday the 18th. I messed up the traverse in PE, and the push ups too. Math was fine, though. Frustrating, really. >_<
Thursday the 19th. Finally ascended in KoL--as a Pastamancer. Now all I need are the ingredients, and I'm ready to go cooking my own pasta. Adv Saucecrafting+Pastamancery= Meat.
Today, Friday the 20th. So again I messed up on the Finals wall in Sports Climbing; and got to the 6th panel on Molly's Walk. It is really not my sport; should've taken Archery instead. Which made me miss Arnis more; it was so much fun, and well, I was pretty okay.
And looking back, all my previous posts have a touch of fire in them the past week. Probably just the weather--good thing the Math classroom is air-conditioned.
That's it for now.
13.4.07
sniffles
I'm back writing after a 4-day trip to Singapura and 2 days of stress from the fucked-up "computerized" enrollment. I won't be writing much, though--I'm quite sick, with a bad case of the sniffles and should really be resting now. I'll write more about those two these coming days, though.
Now to get a bit of rest.
Now to get a bit of rest.
6.4.07
of bots and pilots
I came upon this post on the PW messageboards:
It's a joke? I'm not laughing. Neither should any of you.
A lot of people have complained about being "hacked" and whine a lot because LU! could not fix it when it clearly shows items were traded between characters. What do you think is the root of all of that? I will tell you: Pilots.
You are responsible for the security of your account just as LU! is responsible for the security of the database. If you use pilots you violate the LU! Customer Support Policies and you expect LU! to compensate you for your own follies?
For shame.
*original post here: http://pwboards.levelupgames.ph/index.php?s=&showtopic=191&view=findpost&p=5936 *
Which is true; however, to quote from hackenslash.net:
Meanwhile, Sheila Paul, chief operating officer of Level Up!, which distributes the games Ragnarok, RF Online and ROSE Online, said their company is supporting "piloting" services in Internet cafés, not bots.
Essentially, "piloting" is when the owner of an online game character hires someone to play the game for him or her. Pilots help in upgrading the characters to a higher level. Sometimes they also harvest items or the virtual money for the current game being played.
*original article here: http://hackenslash.inquirer.net/gamingscene/index.php?story_id=80115*
So what really is the LUG policy on pilots?
It reallly boils down to how they implement their rules. Bots are clearly commonplace in RO. Many have pilots, too; yet do they do anything about it?
Then again, business is business. They'd lose a lot of customers if they enforced that rule strictly, right?
My personal stand on this is that pilots are legal, bots are not. To paraphrase (I can't remember who said this, I'll find it later), with bots you edit the game code itself. This can be considered similar to edited characters. With piloting, there's still someone behind the avatar/character, and the game code is not tweaked.
It all boils down to being responsible for your account. You should be able to completely trust the pilot--knowing each other irl is a great advantage. It's also better that the person whom youre account with has no motive to hack your account--most of those who have borrowed my account also have their own accounts with better equips and higher levels than mine that getting mine won't put them ahead.
I got hacked once (together with my first Gmail, Roseboards, and Friendster account), I have a pretty good idea who did it (since we traded accounts), and so it comes out completely my fault. I could've cleaned his account out too, but I won't stoop down to his level and do what he did. Now, my account is now in the hands of many other people; and I don't really care what happens to it.
And on a parting note, my first CM might be right about the one who was first quoted here.
It's a joke? I'm not laughing. Neither should any of you.
A lot of people have complained about being "hacked" and whine a lot because LU! could not fix it when it clearly shows items were traded between characters. What do you think is the root of all of that? I will tell you: Pilots.
You are responsible for the security of your account just as LU! is responsible for the security of the database. If you use pilots you violate the LU! Customer Support Policies and you expect LU! to compensate you for your own follies?
For shame.
*original post here: http://pwboards.levelupgames.ph/index.php?s=&showtopic=191&view=findpost&p=5936 *
Which is true; however, to quote from hackenslash.net:
Meanwhile, Sheila Paul, chief operating officer of Level Up!, which distributes the games Ragnarok, RF Online and ROSE Online, said their company is supporting "piloting" services in Internet cafés, not bots.
Essentially, "piloting" is when the owner of an online game character hires someone to play the game for him or her. Pilots help in upgrading the characters to a higher level. Sometimes they also harvest items or the virtual money for the current game being played.
*original article here: http://hackenslash.inquirer.net/gamingscene/index.php?story_id=80115*
So what really is the LUG policy on pilots?
It reallly boils down to how they implement their rules. Bots are clearly commonplace in RO. Many have pilots, too; yet do they do anything about it?
Then again, business is business. They'd lose a lot of customers if they enforced that rule strictly, right?
My personal stand on this is that pilots are legal, bots are not. To paraphrase (I can't remember who said this, I'll find it later), with bots you edit the game code itself. This can be considered similar to edited characters. With piloting, there's still someone behind the avatar/character, and the game code is not tweaked.
It all boils down to being responsible for your account. You should be able to completely trust the pilot--knowing each other irl is a great advantage. It's also better that the person whom youre account with has no motive to hack your account--most of those who have borrowed my account also have their own accounts with better equips and higher levels than mine that getting mine won't put them ahead.
I got hacked once (together with my first Gmail, Roseboards, and Friendster account), I have a pretty good idea who did it (since we traded accounts), and so it comes out completely my fault. I could've cleaned his account out too, but I won't stoop down to his level and do what he did. Now, my account is now in the hands of many other people; and I don't really care what happens to it.
And on a parting note, my first CM might be right about the one who was first quoted here.
5.4.07
random thought process
What would it be like, then?
To play as gods?
What would it be like
to flirt
with destiny wrapped
around your pinky finger
on your palm
quivering like a
newborn butterfly
------------------------------->
It's 11.19 pm as I start to write this, and I don't expect to finish soon.
The poem above is getting nowhere--I've written and susequently erased what I wrote; I'm still mildly incoherent. I fell asleep earlier while reading Zelazny's Lord of Light, and woke up to 3 messages tainted saffron while minimized on the laptop screen. Since my proper thought processes take a while to return, I had a shadow of a dinner instead, consisting of a small piece of peanut brittle (I am hooked to this stuff), puto bumbong, and bibingka. Come to think of it, that doesn't sound much like dinner.
Yep, I've been reading that book too much--and I like it a bit too much. I've been quoting it already. Oh, and that poem is inspired by that book.
To play as gods?
What would it be like
to flirt
with destiny wrapped
around your pinky finger
on your palm
quivering like a
newborn butterfly
------------------------------->
It's 11.19 pm as I start to write this, and I don't expect to finish soon.
The poem above is getting nowhere--I've written and susequently erased what I wrote; I'm still mildly incoherent. I fell asleep earlier while reading Zelazny's Lord of Light, and woke up to 3 messages tainted saffron while minimized on the laptop screen. Since my proper thought processes take a while to return, I had a shadow of a dinner instead, consisting of a small piece of peanut brittle (I am hooked to this stuff), puto bumbong, and bibingka. Come to think of it, that doesn't sound much like dinner.
Yep, I've been reading that book too much--and I like it a bit too much. I've been quoting it already. Oh, and that poem is inspired by that book.
karmic
Bearer of the Eightfold Rune, I thought you'd be more careful with your words. Yes, she may have done nothing, a sin in itself. But it does not give anybody the right to outright insult her; or rather on a different board, another place. Not in a official messageboard. I hope the moderators would only give a warning over that.
Or maybe because I was in a situation somehow similar to hers' before; when the clan was left to me. It is really hard to follow a path trodden and made by the great, and harder to make a better one still. However, she must admit her failings; I did admit mine, when I gave up the clan.
Asking for help does not damage one's pride.
Or maybe because I was in a situation somehow similar to hers' before; when the clan was left to me. It is really hard to follow a path trodden and made by the great, and harder to make a better one still. However, she must admit her failings; I did admit mine, when I gave up the clan.
Asking for help does not damage one's pride.
4.4.07
requiem
I speak with the voice of a vengeful one.
http://roseboards.levelupgames.ph/index.php?showtopic=6815&pid=185808&st=60&#entry185808
Go ahead, just let it die. The way things are going, it's not viable to keep it alive anyway. The game may live on but just as a shell of its former self--yes, it's now just a game already.
I don't think that they would care that all those noobs will take over, play the game for a week or two, then move on. They still pay for load, don't they? And it's no use ranting there because they can always not listen. I'm actually willing to get banned already; it just doesn't make much sense anymore to fight for the game's life. I do feel sorry for the few players that I believe are worthy of a better system.
I will instead post my own soliloquy here; there's no use in adding to the noise when no one is listening.
The best way to forge change is to actually leave. Then when everyone's gone, they'll notice.
And to add: I remember the admin team saying that they'd support player-run events and the like. Well, I don't see that coming--even though the TCG and the guidebook threads got pinned, nothing seems to be happening. It's a bit unfair that Kuya Wins is shouldering everything, and it's not even his game. Yep, he's sometimes too nice.
http://roseboards.levelupgames.ph/index.php?showtopic=6815&pid=185808&st=60&#entry185808
Go ahead, just let it die. The way things are going, it's not viable to keep it alive anyway. The game may live on but just as a shell of its former self--yes, it's now just a game already.
I don't think that they would care that all those noobs will take over, play the game for a week or two, then move on. They still pay for load, don't they? And it's no use ranting there because they can always not listen. I'm actually willing to get banned already; it just doesn't make much sense anymore to fight for the game's life. I do feel sorry for the few players that I believe are worthy of a better system.
I will instead post my own soliloquy here; there's no use in adding to the noise when no one is listening.
The best way to forge change is to actually leave. Then when everyone's gone, they'll notice.
And to add: I remember the admin team saying that they'd support player-run events and the like. Well, I don't see that coming--even though the TCG and the guidebook threads got pinned, nothing seems to be happening. It's a bit unfair that Kuya Wins is shouldering everything, and it's not even his game. Yep, he's sometimes too nice.
3.4.07
soliloquy
Yep, I've changed the background again--the same with my Friendster account. Entitled "soliloquy", I like this better than flight--it has a touch more of color and came out exactly how I envisioned it to be. :)
Same credits for Flight; I won't copy-paste it anymore. @_@
Same credits for Flight; I won't copy-paste it anymore. @_@
missing the rush
I've been staring at my Friendster profile the past few hours, trying to grasp the last threads of inspiration to come up with a new background. And failing.
There's nothing much to say, actually.
Odd as it may sound, I miss having to beat deadlines. It's that sense of "I-can't-not-do-this-because-they're-going-to-grill-me" that becomes a driving force that I miss; for sometimes, when you do things for yourself and being the classic procrastinator that I am, it gets postponed. It gets pushed back to the farthest corners of my finite yet muddy self that it gets soon swallowed by other supposedly more important things, until it sinks into the abyss and never resurfaces.
And I miss the sense of accomplishment whenever I cross out with my red marker an item on my to-do list.
Now to return again to the real world--mom has asked me to do something.
There's nothing much to say, actually.
Odd as it may sound, I miss having to beat deadlines. It's that sense of "I-can't-not-do-this-because-they're-going-to-grill-me" that becomes a driving force that I miss; for sometimes, when you do things for yourself and being the classic procrastinator that I am, it gets postponed. It gets pushed back to the farthest corners of my finite yet muddy self that it gets soon swallowed by other supposedly more important things, until it sinks into the abyss and never resurfaces.
And I miss the sense of accomplishment whenever I cross out with my red marker an item on my to-do list.
Now to return again to the real world--mom has asked me to do something.
2.4.07
flight
Here's my new layout for the summer--flight. This is my first fully-Photoshopped skin; the earlier one was half done by hand. Took most of the day to make, and it turned out pretty okay.
I'd like to give credit to the following: Scully7491 for the feather and wing brushes, easyelements.com for the swirl brushes, and the stock photo from inmagine.com.
I'd like to give credit to the following: Scully7491 for the feather and wing brushes, easyelements.com for the swirl brushes, and the stock photo from inmagine.com.
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