Take note:

I took note. And a note like this doesn't keep to itself. Like sound waves, it bounces back and forth for a reason.

As of now

*some text missing*...

Good morning!

SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME I AM NOT DELUSIONAL. The end.

Insomnia

I am reminded.

Now

You realize there is no tightrope.
There is a basket.
But there are no crabs.
No spines, no eight legs, no claws.
But there are hands. There are feet.
You notice the opening above.
The air outside is the air inside.
There is mind. There is heart.
There are no crabs.
There is no tightrope.

Closer to home

When we were young, we'd sometimes wish of having super powers. Some pick the power to fly, while others pick telepathic abilities. I used to think that the power to teleport wherever I wanted was the best power to wish for. I shared this idea with my mom and she told me that it was a selfish power to want. I agreed with her; until now, I still do. Being the severely optimistic child I was (not sure if I'm joking here. whatever), I decided to wish for the power to be able to take other people's pain or sickness, because the ability to completely obliterate someone else's suffering is absurd.  I thought it was a noble power to wish for. Also, I was at the age when the main objective was to impress my parents and I concluded that being a "thoughtful" kid would wow my mother. So I said I wished for the power to be able to feel the suffering of others instead of having to feel it themselves. Mind you, there's nothing noble about being arrogant - I was convinced that I could handle everyone else's suffering. Of course now, I don't believe in super powers and don't wish for any (unless the occasional daydream requires it).

Today, however, to my dismay, I feel as if an imaginative childhood desire translated into reality. Today is my mom's 50th birthday. I greeted her this morning rather sheepishly. She never expects much from me, or from any of her children. A hug and greeting is always fine, she'd say. I could not hug her today, on her 50th birthday. In place of that hug, I remembered my childhood desired super power and was convinced that it came true just for today, even without me knowing it at first.  Mom, in place of that hug, I hope that today: whatever was meant went as planned, you felt no physical or mental stress, and you did not feel embarrassed for whatever reason, because today I think my childhood super power became a reality.

Forgive me for blogging this. I am truly happy for my mom that today is her 50th birthday. I write this blog because there's no other place to express what I can't help but feel. It's probably just one of those days. I don't know.

We're outnumbered by those who take no pride

I am stubborn. I'm not one to write paragraphs about matters of the heart (actually, it hasn't even reached that yet. This is a matter of the mind (?) for now). This will be a first, and most likely the last. I probably should allow my thoughts to wash over matters of the heart (or mind) more because doing so would be for my own good. I refuse to do this. Admittedly, I am in a perpetual tantrum. A whining brat in desperate need to be told off. I cringe. I am stubborn.


I'm a little like you
Ugly on the inside


You've led me through a couple of weeks of dreaming and ear-to-ear smiling. You're hardworking, endearing,  sweet, and honest, and irritatingly mysterious. You enchant me with what I don't know about you, and not with what other people tell me of you. You're not some thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle to be solved within a couple of days. Seeing the seriousness your countenance can sometimes display, I enjoy the thought of possibly being close with someone so enigmatic, the guessing, the making sense of your mystery. Never did it occur that you have to reveal all your secrets to me; doing that would take away the charm I'm so drawn to. I realize that, perhaps, liking you was simply a break from all the frankness and brutal opinions I surround myself with. You are, for lack of a better term, malabo to me. Sadly, I admit that I was once like this to a significant someone. I was unfair to her, but only because I was unfair to myself. A good friend once said that you and I are really alike. I agree. I am malabo. We have created our own sense of stability, a haven in chaos, a deep slumber in all things malabo. As far as I know, you offer what I already have.


But while I dive into the gritty
You just stand by


It is unfair that I judge you so easily. Forgive me for being critical. I try not to assume, but I am only human. Thinking about you is like thinking about me. That is something I cannot do. It's quite vain of me to conclude as such, but allow me to be a little selfish by letting me take comfort in this conclusion. It makes it easier for me to decide, to maintain my chaotic haven. For some reason, when I say "you" a little part of me thinks "I". That's how I know some things shouldn't be, and me liking you shouldn't be.


My thoughts are at a loss for words. I don't know if that makes sense. I'm malabo anyway.


When I look at you
Heaven's on fire


I think I know why you are in love with photography. Photography is not an art. It is like a happy person smiling or a sad person frowning. Each photograph is an extension of how you feel - all your thoughts and emotions captured in one still frame. With that photograph, you look at it over and over again. You smile at being able to do something so profoundly simple. If at a loss for words, you have this extension of yourself to share with other people. This is photography for me. If this is your reason, then that's one more thing we have in common. Perhaps, like me, one day, with your aperture and shutter speed settings, you wish to capture the most elusive of all things and make it an extension of yourself - just like the smile of a happy person and a frown of a sad person. Exactly what this "thing" is, I wont say. I cringe just thinking about it.


Heaven's on fire

P.S. The Radio Dept. is an awesome band, by the way. He he

Note to self:

No blogging after drinking. Suffice it to say that that last post was unnecessarily corny.

Happy Halloween!

Okay then, it's been a while since I last cemented my thoughts on this blog. No matter (yes, begin your british-accent-thinking caps), this is where I make my first inebriated blog. That's right, my good good gooooood friends senyor Jose Cuervo and Absolut visited tonight. Let me tell you, sh*t (inebriated but still with some form of decency to censor myself), what a night. The host ended up getting too much alcohol-functional-group-based-beverage thus the rather early post (2 am, in case you're wondering. More often than not these celebrations sort of last till the sun comes up - no, we're not proud of it). Well anyway, here's a brief introduction of some of my good good, best best, and awesome some friends at home. They are my escape (and of course, you guys are my refuge: big difference, if I may add). I love these guys. Not because of all the crazy and innocent fun we have, but because we've been through enough (and not a lot) to call whatever this is a constant in forever. That's right, a constant in forever. Shit, gay statement, but what is happy (in all senses) but the simplest truth? Makes no sense, and yet my logic and heart are so convinced that this description is the only form of my realistic home, my conscience outside the conscientious. I say this because my friends aren't the sanest of the fruit basket. Speckled and sour at times but they always keep themselves inside that whicker surrounding, ready and willing to nourish my diabetic soul. I'd do the same for any of them, like I'd do the same for any of you. Anyway, as the -OH group continues to act upon my carefree and scatterbrained existence, I would like to apologize. Again, I apologize. I apologize, I apologize, I apologize. That's it. Too ashamed to mention what for. You'd probably know why eventually, but again, I apologize. Don't worry, this was not an event of utter weakness and succumbing to peers whom I need dearly, just a slight change in negotiations with one's self. I am a persistent haggler, so haggle I shall.

To sum it all in a petty, liquor-filled nutshell, I had a happy halloween. This is because I have come to a decision that myself is first, and the rest is 0.0000000000000000000000000000~(infinity) next to my selfishness. Perhaps it's time I need to learn myself. With that said, I would like to introduce myself through a couple few who have made "me" me. Just so you don't assume any unnecessary persona, two are smurfs (though I'm close to only one), one is sadako, two are army men, one is an indian, one is a geek, one is mr.bean, and I am (a jovial) peter parker!!!! :> (you can't really see the spider bite on my left hand).

 Happy Halloween!

PS. if there are any gross grammatical errors, by the wise words of Jamie Foxx, blame it on the booze. LAME

See you guys zoon plz

I just realized...

This past semester has been, in some ways, difficult and arrogant. Allowing this semester to stick it's foot out along the aisle that is my future meant that I succumbed to an ego that should have been barely noticed. I realized that I stumbled a lot this past semester. Getting back on my feet and orienting myself was a challenge I expected to overcome easily. In a hurry to end the semester, I quickly got on my feet and nonchalantly dusted off my shoulders. I felt like I did find my bearings, only to find out that in my haphazard ascent, I left something behind. This was something I never thought I had (only because I never bothered to see it in me in the first place). I claim to be a scatterbrain because I realize that I don't make the effort to be coherent. I say I am lucid. Turns out I'm looking through a glass full of water (not half empty nor half full). Vision is distorted when looking through water. What's worse is that I've got only one hand left to go about my daily routine of (in)sanity; the other hand's being used to hold the glass up. This ability of being coherent with thoughts, words (both when I speak and write), and actions has been knocked out of me. Now I find myself to be messy and TOO scatterbrained despite my efforts to peek out from the peripherals of the glass full of water. Left side. Right side. Like an inebriate. Scratching off the "do laps everyday" part of my checklist and replacing it with "find coherency". Yeah, the OC in me is being a real ass.

Typical Tuesday

Waking up to a sunless sky can be very discouraging. To see grey rather than yellow, and to hear the drizzle spitting on leaves outside my window rather than the chirping of little, brown birds can set a totally different mood usually expected from a typical Tuesday morning. The sound of my brother's alarm goes off at 6 in the morning. He's not one to waste hours of the day and I'm not one to wake up before dawn. He and I are quite different. His white, chinese, and pudgy appearance is nothing compared to my brown, smoldering good looks. Oh, and I like to make jokes (if you can tell) while he likes (or is forced to like) to be the butt of jokes. That's life, I'd tell him whenever he'd complain to my mom about me being an older brother, live with it. Then he'd run off to get his iTouch just to brag and taunt at my second hand iPod nano. Yes, I'm, for lack of a better word, a cheapo. I took my brother's nano the day he got his brand new iTouch. My old iPod wasn't working anymore and I wasn't in the mood to spend my money. See. Cheapo. Did I mention that he's 8 years younger than me? It's sad that a difference in a mere decade can produce a different strain of "spoiled". Papa I want an iTouch. And boom, it's a week's worth of bragging to me from him. Delightful. Don't care. I don't claim to be a modest, little, fluffy creature frolicking in the meadow of childish turkish delight and humble rays of golden-boy sunshine with disney-style bird-singing in the background, but I'm not THAT spoiled. (Excuse the overly described sentence, there's' something about falling asleep to black and waking up to grey that gets on my nerves). Anyway, today, classes were cancelled and I don't have the house to myself. Bummer. As if the sound of millions of droplets of water falling on tiled roofs (which should come another day or even better, never, 'cause people are suffering you bastard. Juan you are a bastard) isn't noisy enough.

I guess it's just one of those days. One of those days wherein the mustard is extra pungent and the portobello mushroom burgers don't taste as good. Had burgers for lunch today and it was just alright, and not all right. Days when the beautiful sizzling sound of pouring white wine over caramelized onions just don't do much. No excitement of taste buds, nothing. Eating a supposedly fantastic burger became a monotonous mechanical routine. Bite. Chew. Up and down. Drink water. Bye. Off to "rant" about today. Just one of those days. Of course, today was just an extension of yesterday's oddity. A good friend of mine invited me to do some laps with him at the club. I asked who else was going. He said his girlfriend (but all I heard was YOUR EX) is going. I asked why and he said 'cause she (again, I heard YOUR EX) wants to watch him swim. I laughed. He laughed. End of conversation. Grey. Not black. Not white. Grey. Don't worry, I'm over it. Not numb towards it, just bridge under the water and not water under the bridge (can't do much to change it either way). Definitely not defeated, just irritated. I'm fine. The mustard at lunch today was dijon and the burger patties were hand-made by mama.

Piss of brother extended the bidet out of the bathroom and decided to spray me. He's going to get it from me later. Older brother always wins. Another victory for older brother is with Little Bee. It has lots of "unsaid things". Sak2. I guess the weather makes it even more enjoyable to read. I have this spot in the house where I like to read and no one goes there. It's that living area where nobody really "lives" in. Most of the time, they walk down the stairs and head straight for the kitchen.

I sit on this cushioned whicker chair with my back against an opened window and my feet up on a coffee table, and read. Dad asked if I planned on going out today. I said no. He said oh, and left perplexed. Yes, at home I don't normally show if I'm feeling white, black, or grey (and no racist jokes please, though it is quite tempting). I just be. And they let me be. And then there's a bee (HAHAHA couldn't help it). Me not going out is me not being my(old)self. They'll get used to it. For fuck's sake I should get used to it. Oh, today's the day I decide to quit smoking. Done.

Typical Tuesday is just so grey. I'm looking forward to the best that ALWAYS comes after the worst. This may seem like a rant, but I think otherwise. Rants are whiny. This is different. I'm not whining, just thinking out loud. I am aware, and quite frankly, lucidity is power. Grey, black, white - they don't matter if you can't distinguish one from the other. I don't see a puddle of blur. I see each droplet of drizzle clearly. Cliche. Whatever. Victory. All right and not just alright.

Time

I haven't expressed much on my blog, considering that the past few weeks have been obvious seeds of expression; let's face it, they were trials of all sorts. Now that the mind is lucid and free of any academic dust, I thought to myself that perhaps it's time to tap into that untouchable conscious reality once again. I type this while watching Drag Me To Hell (funny shit, I must say), and I realize ((yes, I really do)) that I don't want to spend my break expediting the degeneration of neurons by bumming around and avoiding bath time (((I don't see how refusing to shower has any effect on my brain but let's just pretend that it does for hygiene sake.))). As you can see, academically preoccupied or not, I'm still a scatterbrain. Coherency matters only when the incoherent notice. So I'm assuming that you, the coherent (hopefully, in all aspects) reader of this blog, do not really care about this unnecessary banter with myself. I can be senseless if I want to.

Back to my realizations about the break, I have come to a pathetic ultimatum: either I teach my lazy-ass a skill or fester. Kinda gay to make a check list, but I'm pulling out all possible tricks from the bag for this break. Bare with me, 'cause simply conceiving this check list pisses me off. Limiting it to 6; not so big on  chewing on a big chunk of disappointment.

1. Take a photography workshop/s.
2. Do laps everyday (starting tomorrow 10/18/10).
3. Give Don Quixote or Pride and Prejudice a second chance.
4. Establish a daily routine (shallow, but I decided to include it 'cause I can).
5. Go out of town/hang with friends as much as possible.
6. Learn a skill or two.

Not difficult at all. Sounds like fun. On a side note, these Colgate commercials are fucking annoying. What kind of random dentist would pop out of nowhere and stick a foreign device in front of your face?! And what kind of idiot would allow some stranger in a white gown to do such a thing?! Fucking random piss off. Let's not sidetrack. Will keep you guys posted on how accomplishing this check list goes. (I'm pretending you give a damn hahaha!) So that this blog has some sort of substance, I challenge you to challenge yourself this break. You probably made a check list already, but circumstances are different: this time, you have the time to think about what to do with all your time. Time to time your time.




Just to spite you: time time time time time time. Hahahaha!

Sleep.

...




















The end.

;))

Cough

Cough.











The end.

Tune in for more annoying posts. Hahahaha!

Despite the weather

Take breath, brother. 

For the storm has only one eye and we have four combined.

And when the winds howl at you for standing in their way,

You howl back with a zeal so unworldly.

Let all of you see, let all of you escape.

And when the universe pelts you with its sorrows,

You let it strike your face.

For in this tempest we call home, 

We all stand under the rain.

And then, brother, you breathe in, brother, you breathe out.

Good mood and good photo ha ha ha

Home cooked meal

Since I was in Katipunan the whole afternoon yesterday, I missed helping my mom out in the kitchen. Today, I had the leftovers of her cooking storm from yesterday for lunch and I must say (with a british accent), it was exquisite. HA HA! I've always been mom's sidekick in the kitchen and for no apparent reason besides my being drawn to the passion that food brings out in people, be it in eating or cooking. At home, we enjoy both and I'm happy to say that this sort of "tradition" of cooking with the family on Sundays (if that's what you can call it) won't be dying down any time soon. It's something I see myself doing in the future. My mom has left an impression in me that exudes everything about a home - the smells, the sounds, the tastes, the laughter around the table, the lazy Susan: everything. She may be cutthroat at times (not to mention as noisy as a pig at the slaughterhouse), but fortunately, that side of her does not come out when presented with a pan and a stove. Give her garlic and olive oil, and she will give you love in return. Love served piping hot, with aromas that fill your inner being. And when you've finished eating her unworldly creations, you know you're getting the sweetest of deserts after. I'm not talking about a simple chocolate cake oozing with caramel sauce, or mango torte with extra whipped cream on the side; I'm talking about her hug and smile, a sign of appreciation that acknowledges our happiness, her children's happiness, by simply being passionate in the kitchen.

Yeah, a bit cheesy and sentimental but mom's bring out something in their sons that make them wish they were and weren't mama's boys - if that even makes sense.

What a gay blog about my mom pa talaga eh, ha ha ha! These moments are rare so keep your snide remarks to yourself! If I didn't choose to be a doctor, I would've been a chef. Mom recapped the recipe to me:

Veal Shank Milanese
- veal shank (with bone marrow and all)
- onion
- carrot
- celery
- white wine
- bayleaf
- 1 lemon
- a whole head of garlic
- butter
- salt and pepper (both ground and whole)

Saute veal in butter until slightly browned. Add in mirepoix (chopped onion, carrot, and celery) in the pan. Sweat vegetables for a while then add white wine (enough to submerge the meat and vegetables). Cut the head of garlic, un-peeled, in half and add into pot. Add in rind of lemon and lemon juice. Add salt and pepper. Boil until meat starts separating from bone or ligament. Add in bayleaf and cover pot. Boil for another 5 minutes then turn off heat. Best served hot.

Pretty easy to do ha ha ha and tastes fucking good. Try it out

Sleepless and with nothing to do

Sorry, bored me. Some favorite photos from my idolzz photographer, Jacob Aue Sobol. Inspiring. Ha ha ha! Sleep evades me once again.

You can look at his other photographs on his website http://www.auesobol.dk/work/index.php?Bangkok_Encounter?image=0 . Mind you that some of the subjects he photographed are a little different. Viewer discretion is advised ha ha!

A proper introduction

My last two posts were results of frustration and anger; sleep evades me too often. Whiny and unrefined is not how I'd like people to perceive me, though the occasional complaint is something I find rather therapeutic. It's relaxing all-together to identify simple things as not to our liking (ang init! or gutom na me!) and exclaiming it to avoid emotions entering a "pressure cooker"; it allows change to eventually occur (what is People Power but a complaint on a massive scale?). Complaining is healthy once in a while, like in all things, moderation is key. Of course, it would be preferential if whining were to be avoided all-together. It's annoying because it spawns more whining, be it verbal or not. Just think about the number of times people pissed you off but you kept it inside, you held your tongue; not saying it out loud doesn't mean you're okay. You whine inside and then make a face or you run away. (Admit it)! I find that not expressing it immediately makes more for an annoying experience. You see, it's unnecessary. It's emotionally draining. It's impractical. (I bet this matter-of-fact tone is pissing you off ha  ha ha ha!) Anyway, before I digress into a fitful state of unnecessary ranting (mind you that nothing today led me into talking about complaining, just a random thought), allow me to introduce myself.

My name is Enrique Locsin Dimagiba (I don't have a second name so I like to include my maiden name just so my name seems longer ha ha). I come from a family of 6, the eldest son of a cynic-for-a-lawyer father and a sweet-but-cutthroat mother. I have two sisters and one brother; they piss me off a lot but it's alright. I'd like to think I have a decent family. We don't say "I love you" to each other because actions speak louder than words. We're alright as a family. I appreciate the hard work my parents do; all that character molding and what not, it's alright. I'd post a picture of my family but: first, my mom abhors the idea of strangers having access to a family portrait; two, I don't have any candid pictures of my family - Christmas and New Year's portraits sicken me; and three, a picture of my family won't give them justice - you'll have to meet them in person. Life with them is all right.

I think I am a scatterbrain and a cynic, but, overall, a practical person. Thinking along the lines of an analogy: don't give me bullshit because what kind of retard would accept shit wrapped in a pretty, little box and tied with fancy ribbon? No. Give me something worthwhile, something everyone can appreciate. This, of course, does not equate to bullshit. In turn (just as how all dealings in the natural and REAL world occur), you get non-bullshit, the truth. Speaking of real, real sleep is real good. The undisturbed kind that when you wake up, you notice your pillow is of a darker shade due to excessive amounts of drool. One of the best ways to spend summer, no doubt. Speaking of summer.. I'd like to share my sentiments about the friends I have back home. They're da bez. That's all. Ha ha ha! They're all right and not just alright. We haven't been through a lot (compared to other people's friendships), but we've been through enough to know that whatever it is we have will last.

I'm lazy to talk about myself further, especially since I'm not that narcissistic (that's two descriptions with one stone ha ha). I'd like to end with that "friend" note because to be honest with you, my friends define me in all possible senses. I can have life, I can "exist", but my friends reveal to me as to why I should exist, why I should go on living. I'll admit it, the aspect of my life that I am most proud of is my friends. So you, the reader of this blog (not including strangers ha ha [as if strangers are even interested in knowing about my life]), you are my friend and be proud that you empower me. Take comfort in the idea that, at least, your very existence has changed someone's life - my life.

Normally one would include a mention of hobbies and interests and all that garbage. But then again, who really gives a damn ha ha!



P.S. FEEL NIYO if you think you're all that. Ha ha ha ha ha! Sabad gid

On a wishfully-thinking note

Wouldn't mind waking up or falling asleep to a scene like this. It wouldn't hurt to dream about it as well. Sembreak na please punyeta

This is pissing me off

There are so many lost opportunities because of me falling asleep. I don't think sleep is a bad thing. I just find it annoying. So annoying, in fact, that when it's actually time to go to bed, I get irritated, vexed, irked, nettled, whichever word you want to use, with myself for wanting to go to sleep. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy the occasional nap and sleeping in on Monday mornings. It's every aspect of "bum" and my recognizing that a break is needed once in a while. You can say that sleeping in on Mondays is a masterpiece. A masterpiece so beautiful that its accomplishment entails little effort. The words "bum" and "little effort" don't really impart ideas of accomplishment. It makes you think of being a lazy retard. For honesty's sake, please don't f*cking say that you don't feel fulfilled or accomplished after a long nap. What a pathetic lie that would be. Realize that, in a sense, sleep is an art. It is an enjoyable art. Art made easy. Art made necessary and practical.

Good morning. Last night, I did not get much of this art. I am annoyed. Today will most likely turn out like this:

Sleep in class because I didn't get enough sleep last night.

Become irritable because I didn't get enough sleep last night.

Possibly fail a quiz and long test because I didn't get enough sleep last night.

Feel TIRED IN ALL POSSIBLE SENSES because I didn't get enough sleep last night.

But why make something so trivial such a big deal? It's not practical. It's stupid. Thinking about it, it's not about the lack of sleep I get. It is (and this will sound really sad and pathetic) the act of sleep itself. I guess you can say it's a fear. It's the thought of locking yourself up in an abyss so infinitely deep yet somehow, so full of sh*t. You can't run away from it. You're asleep. You're stuck there with your thoughts. Happy, exciting,  sad, embarrassing, frustrating - each and every feeling, emotion, and experience; they all just wait there, wait for their creator. They're all waiting for you to close your eyes, to let your guard down. Then they pounce, and you're either happy about it or you're not. In a sense, it's a gamble. It's impractical.

Again, don't get me wrong. I enjoy sleep, but I guess nothing is free. I enjoy sleep, and it enjoys annoying me. I'm not some crazy person who enjoys being annoyed. I'm just tired... and sleepy. 

You just read the unnecessary thoughts of a very frustrated, bored, possibly stressed-out, and scatterbrained college student. Thank you for allowing me to waste your time. Hahahaha!