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Bonfire tomorrow! [Sep. 29th, 2008|07:09 am]

I'll be seeing everyone tomorrow at the Bel Field, right? Right?



29 September 2008


To The Ateneo Community:


Congratulations to the Ateneo community for the following achievements by our various teams:

Loyola Schools: UAAP Season 71 Mens' Basketball Champion and Ladies' Swimming Champion

High School: UAAP Season 71 Juniors Basketball Champion and Swimming Champion

Grade School: Small Basketeers of the Philippines Champion


The following are the details of the thanksgiving Mass, bonfire, and program tomorrow, September 30:


6:00 PM: Thanksgiving Mass at the Church of the Gesu

7:30 PM: Program at Bellarmine Field (across the Gesu)


Tribute to the various Ateneo champion teams

Autograph Signing

Performances by the Blue Babble Battalion, Migs Escueta, APO Hiking Society, Chicosci, Kjwan, Parokya ni Edgar, Spongecola, and other bands


1. Food & Beverage


Some 30 concessionaires have signed up to sell for the duration of the evening. There will be also be complimentary Pepsi products while supplies last. Beer will be sold ONLY to adults, ages 21 and above.  


2. Tents, Tables and chairs


Some tents, 100 tables and 1,300 chairs will be provided free of charge and made available on a first-come, first-served basis. People are free to bring their own tents, tables, and chairs but can set up ONLY AFTER 5:00 PM on September 30 AND ONLY at designated areas. For the designated areas, please inquire at the information booth on Bellarmine Field, Xavier Hall side.


3. Merchandise


Ateneo shirts, caps, and other merchandise will also be made available for sale at designated areas.


4. Webcast powered by Mozcom


Date: 30 September 2008

Time: 6PM to 10PM


http://stream.mozcom.com/ateneo


Thank you.


Fly High! Blue Eagle the King!


Jun Dalandan

Director for Alumni Relations

Ateneo de Manila University

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No words. [Jul. 7th, 2008|06:31 am]
Weak Link


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animo'y mga mandarambong [Jul. 3rd, 2008|12:09 pm]

Dahil May Mga Tanong Na Sadyang Mapangahas

Paminsan may mga gabi
kung saan damang-dama mo
ang mga Tanong

na umaaligid sa iyong likuran,
animo'y mga mandarambong
na handang hablutin
at nakawin ang iyong mga mahahalagang dalahin.

Marahas nilang hihigitin
ang iyong pitaka,
at mabilis na tatakbo papalayo;
hindi ka man lamang makasisigaw
o makahihingi ng tulong.

(Kunsabagay, walang saysay ang manaklolo).

Maninigas ka sa iyong kinatatayuan,
at lilipas ang ilang minuto;
kapag nahimasmasan,
iyong mapagtatanto
na dala nila ang lahat ng iyong kailangan
upang makauwi sa iyong

tahanan,

kaya't sisimulan mo na lamang maglakad,
mamadaliin ang mga hakbang
upang hindi na muling maabutan
ng panibagong mga Tanong

na may dalang mga patalim,
at sadyang walang awa.

-----

Minsan may mga gabi na hindi ka makatulog o makahiga ng tahimik dahil napakaingay sa loob ng iyong utak. Pilit mong kakalimutan ang iyong mga iniisip, ngunit habang pinipilit mong limutin ang mga iyon -- sa pamamagitan ng pagbabasa ng libro, pakikinig sa musika,  pagsusulat, pagguguhit, pakikipagusap sa ibang tao -- talagang mananaog pa rin ang mga tanong na hindi mo naman nais tanungin. Mga kaisipang hindi mo naman nais isipin.


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Dissection: Love of My Life [Jun. 22nd, 2008|08:06 am]

I'm a sucker for syntax.

I was looking at my multiply's inbox, mindlessly scrolling down from update to update when I chanced upon one of my friends' posts, with the the words "love of my life" in the subject. I read it over and over again and chewed on it. What does it mean when someone declares someone else the love of their life? How much more powerful is it compared to being called someone's beloved? Someone's love? It's probably interchangeable, but since I'm bored and tend to always think too much, I bothered to figure out its nuances. After all, it feels all grand when someone says the love of my life.

*Thinks*

Maybe when someone says that a person is the love of their life -- and that is, if they really mean it -- it seems that the love goes beyond the person. It escapes the one saying it, and transcends to his entire life: my entire life loves you, every aspect of my life loves you. You are the love of my life.

It sort of seems obsessive when taken in another way; it's bordering on making everything revolve around the love of one's life. Still, I think it's beautiful when taken carefully. You are the love of my life; my life loves you -- it's like saying I love you a million times over; it's like I love you coupled with my parents, my family, my cat loves you and my dreams love you, my job loves you and the nasty, embarrassing aspects of my person loves you. 

When someone is declared to be the love of their life, it's like saying my past loves you, my present loves you, and my future loves you.

I'm probably blowing things over. It's one line with four words. Then again, that's probably it -- I always say "I love you" is such a heavy, meaningful three-word-combo that should only be used sparingly. Three words that should mean a lot and not just thrown around everytime your heart suddenly skips a beat.

With that, though, I guess it's only logical that the four words of love of my life is greater in value.

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Insert God Here [Jun. 7th, 2008|10:16 pm]
Insert God Here

View from Xanland Place, Katipunan.
--
It's cliche, but sometimes God seems distant. He seems so unreachable to me sometimes, like he's completely turned his back on me. I can't expect myself to understand why I feel this way, but I'd like to think that in these moments that I feel he is just way too far beyond my reach, he's really just taking a step back to look at the entirety of his creation and whisper to himself, it's beautiful, like he did the first seven days.

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Your Kiss is more than I have ever dreamed of [Apr. 11th, 2008|03:41 pm]

A Kiss, Because We Are Lunatics

Tales of Old,
Endymion on the hill,
amidst his eternal sleep
knows that Selene, the Moon,

is the most beautiful thing he has seen.

You just don't know how
every kiss was a suture for my eyes,
consciously,
to force me to be blind
to the beauty of the moon.

Each time I do not kiss back,
the needle buries itself deeper.

This might be for the better.

La Luna,
Softly laying your silver light
soft on my parched lips,

your glow is never diminished
just because I turn away:

your magnificent splendor
persists with its magnificence
and resplendence,
whether I see it or not.

And perchance when I am allowed
to wake from this sewn slumber,
and unweave the seams around my eyes,

I shall tell you (if you allow me) 
that your glow,
Your Kiss,
is more than I have ever dreamed of.


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心痛 [Apr. 10th, 2008|01:22 pm]

我不要了。我的心太累。
我太累。
可是你不知道。

我不明白 -- 可能我依然喜欢你。
任何，这个不重要。

我不重要。

---------

A 3 year old Chinese boy would speak/write better than that.
I wish I could be a kid again and just say how I'm feeling
Without hiding under stupid metaphors.

Or other languages, for that matter.

Sometimes I want to break out and scream at you in another language.
Mandarin. Spanish. Whatever.
I think I owe it to my sanity to be able to let it out,
but I just don't want you to know what I'm talking about.

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constant revolution, kilometers-per-hour [Apr. 7th, 2008|04:52 pm]
Stop! No! I Cannot Stop!

Hello Mr. Hurricane,
where are you
headed to right now?

You mess
with their hair and turn
their umbrellas inside out,

but you don't even know them.

The trails you leave are littered
with random pieces of life scattered all over.

Hello Mr. Hurricane,
do you even know what you're doing?

You spin around, it seems like you have
everything planned out in your
constant revolution, kilometers-per-hour,

but really, you don't even know
when to stop.

Or how.

You just pick up strangers,
lamp posts and garbage
that are weak enough to be carried away

until a wall, an open field
puts an end to your cyclone;

You disappear,
and everything else is let go,
falls to the ground.

A pile of aftermath.

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Oh this can't be good [Apr. 6th, 2008|03:31 pm]
Today (today being Sunday, April 06), I have found myself trapped in this cycle: grab a handful (fine, around 2 handfuls) of Hershey's Kissables, a small bar of Caramel Crunch, and then finish them in less than 3 minutes. I'd get a glass of water and then, because my tongue is weird and always calls for "equilibrium", I'd open a bag of chips to balance the sweetness with some good ol' MSG. I'd finish that quickly too, and then drink water again. And then proceed to my daily dealings.

What the heck. I just finished that almost exact same cycle just now -- but I skipped the Caramel Crunch just because there's only one left, I mean, what will happen to me tomorrow without it? I'm currently finishing another bag of chips. Shit. This can't be good.

Add to that the fact that I'm writing this at 3:27 AM.

But oh well. I wanna gain weight for the summer. And work out. Hahaha. Then I'd emerge from the "vacation" with hotter proportions, and an even hotter tan. Then I'd be called Caleb and move Barbados and pretend to be an ex-member of some defunct boyband from Asia.

Or not. *Crunch*

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Ang bawat pagbigkas mo na tila walang kahulugan [Apr. 5th, 2008|01:47 am]
Patibong

Marahil hindi mo lang napapansin
na ang bawat salitang nagsasakatawang-tao
sa iyong mga labi

ay isa-isang humuhukay
ng mga patibong sa daanang aking tinatahak
papalayo sa iyo.

Ang bawat pagbigkas mo na tila walang kahulugan
ay katumbas naman ng aking pagkahulog.

Hindi mahirap ang umiwas; madaling ingatan
ang aking nilalakaran
upang makalayo sa iyo,

ngunit sadyang malayo ang mga paa sa isip,
at pumapagitna ang makapangyarihan ngunit hungkag na damdamin:
mas pinipili pa nitong magpatiwakal sa mga libingang ito

kaysa tanggapin ang di-maiwasang paglayo mula sa iyo.

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The taste of malt and fermentation [Apr. 2nd, 2008|12:18 pm]
Condominium, Room 411, After A Day of Fixing

12:04 A.M.

The lights are out, save for the monitor screen.

In the bedroom, on the bed,
my friend and his lover
are fast asleep dreaming different dreams
arms locked around each other.

I, on the other hand,
am in front of the computer,
jaw resting on my open palm.

I down a bottle of ice cold
Red Horse
as I chew away
at the most unchewable
stick of isaw, half-stale
from sitting on the table
since dinner time.

The taste of malt and fermentation
and probably unclean innards
linger long after they slide golden
through my throat.

Bitter to the tongue, yet wanted.

This is tonight's second verse,
awake in a building half-empty
(the story of summer).

I can almost hear the cameras rolling,
and the director calling cut.

that's a wrap.

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and pronounce every phoneme like a kiss [Apr. 2nd, 2008|04:19 am]

A Hymn, A Curse, Memories

I call them by their names

and pronounce every phoneme like a kiss
carefully gentle on my lips.

I trace it from my lungs, my chest, the letters
that spell who they are;
every sound said with such
clarity as if I have said them over and over

and over again.

Practice makes perfect,
they say; and believe me, there's nothing else

I desire more

than to speak to them
as real friends do,
speak to them more than I speak to you.

Speak of them more than I speak of you.

But in every breath, every syllable I cast
is a memory of you: each sound seemingly similar
to how I sing your name.

Each time I exhale their names
in hopeful forgetting, I inhale

an inescapable remembrance of you.

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I treasure what I should treasure [Apr. 1st, 2008|12:00 pm]
and I trash what I have to trash.
It's simple, really.


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This is the shiz, yo. [Mar. 29th, 2008|07:30 pm]
Shit. March 30. This is it.
Denouement is pouring into The Conclusion!

I've been dreading April for quite some time now, but here it is!
Give me your best shot!

Ha! Cryptic pseudo-drunk entry. Eat your heart out.

I'm thrilled for what's to come ahead.


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Symbols [Mar. 28th, 2008|06:46 pm]

Symbols

It's an alibi, and excuse
reused and abused
over and over again

Metaphors, sheets under which I hide
Inside, I reside -- I died
in trying to keep it from you

Do you know of the things
that sing in the trappings
of my hopelessly falling self?

They're trying to be heard,
these words, in the world
of things I offer to you --

Each gift a symbol, a sign
intertwined with meanings resigned
to the fact that you will never know

Of their truth, their power,
Their values have cowered
to a love that will never be known

And these rhymes are sins are crimes
As they chime for one last time
for one last time:

Goodbye my dreamtime lover.

---------

To those who know me, I hate poems that rhyme. Especially badly written ones with no consciousness of rhythm. But alas. I rhyme. If only to celebrate the difficulty of finding someone you resonate with, someone you rhyme with, and realize that the two words cannot be used in the same verse, or worse, the same piece.

This is to celebrate the fact that sometimes, even if two words rhyme, they can never be used together in the same poem.

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I Want to Hold Your Hand [Mar. 23rd, 2008|01:54 am]
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The Sun is High, and Golden on Your Skin [Mar. 21st, 2008|10:19 pm]

The Inanity of Fate and Love

They say it never happens to people in this house;
a chance meeting, a fated encounter.
We all thrive in windows, peering desperately through light
and deciphering what seem like words
forming in the shadows of the trees outside.

No one knows of the truth; the jalousies
are new but frosted.

And then a strange wind,
a door slams open before me,
a road winding outside.
I see you walking,
and I wonder if I should walk with you --

would you allow me to?

I question the steps that would lead me away from our roof
and bring me closer to your side (if you permit).
The sun is high, and golden on your skin;
the sweat above your lips, diamonds.

Your stories, treasures unmarked and priceless.

But they have warned me,
noontime is never eternal.
What happens when we've gone too far
and the night comes by without us knowing?

I fear that you will quicken your pace
and run back to shelter,
while I would never want to return
to our crowded, empty house.

The paths that lead us back home
are cruel to those who wish to forget it.
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Look Beneath The Floorboards for the Secrets I Have Hid [Mar. 21st, 2008|07:29 pm]
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The Beach [Mar. 19th, 2008|11:22 pm]
Hello 5-day vacation! The beaches are calling me. But alas, no plans and no money to fulfill none-plans.

I want sand under my feet, saltwater crashing a few steps away, seabreeze through my hair, and a fantastic tan. RIGHT NOW.

Hmm.

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The Moon [Mar. 19th, 2008|03:04 am]
The moon last weekend was so beautiful. The moon always is, with his borrowed faint silver glow casting soft light over everything. The moon is always so magical -- and so bittersweet.

Can you imagine how deeply in love the moon is with the sun? He glows because of the sun's rays, reflecting the morning's glow on his face. Even if the sun is not there, the moon remains bright because of the sun.

Sadly, though, that's the only fate the moon has. No matter how wildly he loves the sun, no matter how much he pursues, the sun will always follow its own course through the sky, and the moon will only be following it, the distance never fading between them.

And if by chance they do meet in the sky -- an eclipse -- the world of old trembles. Children are told not to look at their meeting because they might go blind. People clamor with their gongs and silverware, thinking that their grand sun is being devoured by the moon. Their meeting is always a harbinger of ill fate. What they do not know is that it is the only time the moon can be with the sun.

I wonder if the sun knows that the moon longs for these moments? Perhaps the sun doesn't. The sun is, after all, a sight to behold. The moon, though, is nothing but a rock, floating in the expanse of the universe, often hiding his flaws in varying degrees.

I look at the moon and begin to wonder when he will tire out. When will he stop chasing after the sun? He knows very well that, like days, like months, like years, their motions will never meet the way he wants it to -- there will always be a distance that he cannot control.

I pray the moon finds his own glow, even if he knows he has none.
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