DOING WRONG FOR THE RIGHT

Kids under hostage
seemed not to worry about everything.

March 28, 2007, I had my eyes and ears stuck nearly permanently on the TV screen (I didn’t know how to until lately) when a flash report came in. Thirty two preschoolers and four teachers were in a hostage of, surprisingly, the owner of their school, Mr. Jun Ducat.

At first I thought, was he mentally disturbed? Another public show of republic disgrace to the unjust abuses of the high class? And oh, another hostage after the tragic forgettable other?

Perhaps I would nod on that. It was a play production of someone who might have been desperado in providing for other people.

The hostage drama was no like other. The bus venue was ingenious. The children being held captive was superb. The no-choice-but-to-cry-a-river teachers were slightly antagonistic. But it was not the innocence of the children nor the weeping of their parents or the career moves of our dirty policemen. But the motive, the demands,

Freer education and decent shelter for their families…

A whopping standing ovation.

The hostage drama was a jawdropper for me. It broke out the culture in me that most of our hostage takings here in the Philippines would be another personal distress similar to stereotypical Filipino action movies-personal redemption of honor, vengeance for being minisculed, money of some sorts, or simply foreplaying. As far as I know, hostage taking is more of personal reception.

But this time, he demands the benefits not for Ducat himself, but for the kids he staged as threat to be demised.

Why would a person, an apparently altruistic one such as Ducat, resort to a desperate move that would endanger his students, his employed faculty, and others within the premise of the scenario for ‘education and shelter’?

It’s because he knows that it would take 48 years or more for Malacanang to grant their promises.

Armando “Jun” Ducat Jr., as far as I know, built a school (ie. Day Care Center) using his own money. He provided appropriate school amenities using his own money. He spends thousands of pesos for the salary of his teachers using his own money. He buys clothes, school supplies, and other facilities and equipment for such small scale academic institution using his money. Later did I know that he has just undergone angioplasty so he might have run out of funds to suffice his future personal and interpersonal expenditures.

But it is definitely wrong. I cannot tolerate his courageous act of having these innocent kids to be traumatized by such criminal act.

However, I changed my mind since Ducat does not want to kill the children, successful or not, in the first place.

Ducat in detention with his wife and… a ghost?

No one in this country would dare puts himself in critical condition. Not even Mme. President nor Lito Atienza himself would showcase bravery and justice for those who’ve been deprived by what they should’ve been provided with for the past few years. Never.

Yes, it was a wrongful act of illegally apprehending innocent civilians to be under captivity and threat of annihilation.

But for those who consider that in this country people can only achieve the impossible by doing the impossible, I would not effort to ponder and waste so much calories in thinking and clasping my fingers. Is that what Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo and Lito Atienza call as ‘justice’? Or plain arrogance because some low profile Ducat blemished this blemishable country the Philippines?

Compare it to our present administration and its cohoots in the military and police, at least he did wrong for his instigation of righteousness. Not pretentiously doing right for the promotion of civil abuse and human rights violations.

——

Children of Parola, Manila cheering for the freedom of
their benefactor, Jun Ducat.

Even if Ducat is in prison, he was successful.

1. AMA promised to provide scholarships for all the kids, from elementary to college.

2. Parents of the former captives would praise him for his courageous act and would never care about what he did to their children.

3. DSWD and DOLE finally paved their negligent arses to the slum areas of Tondo to check the conditions of the families–to provide health and economic assistance (in short, employment).

4. Took attention of foreign press for his deed.

5. Slapped Arroyo et al on their faces for their micro societal negligence.

Pathetic it was when I heard one of Arroyo’s proctors in the field trip of the 26 captives in Malacañang saying that ‘they were doing such not because of Ducat but because of their eager agencies to provide services for those who need it’.

Sinong niloko niyo?

———

Politicking always finds a place to bug out of the blue, even at the harshest times.

Ramon “Bong” Revilla, Jr. was there pala in the hostage crisis, my boobtube screamed at me. I thought there would be shrills of titillation but no. I was just disgusted. I thought I would be frustrated for not seeing Bong in his red-caped yellowish polyester fitted costume with a spanking big CB print/embroidery on his chest. Seizing the day, huh?

Ducat never called his attention, nor any celebrity in the world. The police would never/should never call his attention unless it is of dire need that a handsome yet potbellied action star turned politico is summoned by the hostage taker et al. But he managed to put up a show that Captain Barbell has just saved a feverish kid which in fact has just been lifted 2 meters from the bus doorstep and carried to a ’supposedly the proper authorized personnel’.

And then Chavit entered the scene when darkness crawled the venue. I was just confused. Ducat was calling for aide to provide children and their families because of government deprivation. Government deprivation is resulted from graft corruption. Chavit Singson looks like a corrupt. So why bother?

Singson was obviously a juggling jester who pretended to possess still his police prowess and saved the day by escorting Ducat outside to detention, held the no-boomer grenade and gun, waved his hands with his ugly-looking yellow lens filtered spectacles, and made kembot that he was invincible for 5 minutes. And the policemen allowed it.

Now that’s what we call ‘obvious politicking’.

—————-

In spite of my preparation to attend the formal/semi formal/pretending to be formal for good time’s sake Philippine Blog Awards night, I wasn’t able to collect money from you blog readers and friends whom I thought would sympathize to my poverty.. shoo! my mom for the transpo. Mom did have enough money, but huhuhuhu… Kuya Prince had no allowance for his hospital duty. Huhuhuhuhu..

Blatantly stolen from Jhed. Whatever. =_=;;

Huhuhuhuu…. Nah, why attend? I know I will not win. The raffle? Nah, even if I win, some blogger might block me at the exit, maul me to paralysis and then steal my little iPodee from my shack. Sourgraping.

Boo. I envy you guys.

SK – Sangguniang Kabataan o Sangkalan ng Katiwalian?

Editing several hour footages of interviews and scoops and compressing it to 7 minutes are not that easy, especially when you haven’t outlined how your news report should look like.

Here is our investigative/interpretative report about the Sangguniang Kabataan and its pending abolition in the Philippines.

SK – Sangguniang Kabataan o Sangkalan ng Katiwalian?
An Investigative Report about the SK and its Pending Abolition

I know it’s not that good because it’s my first time to use Sony Vegas in editing. It’s our very first time to do an actual 7-minute (difficult) news coverage of an issue scooped for 3 months (really really difficult). Imagine–to compress everything to 7 minutes? Sheesh. I can’t imagine how difficult news reporting is to neophytes like moi. hehe.

What do you think? Are you in favor of the SK abolition and its substitute or should the Congress digress more issues about the youth and tackle something else more significant for their welfare?

——-

BTW, I’m still uber busy. My apologies again if I can’t visit your blogs. Huhuhu.

——-

I know I’m not gonna win.
I’m estupido. Stupid people don’t win ^_^

And hey, I know I will not win but I want to attend the Philippine Blog Awards night on March 31, 2007. I don’t have the money. Please donate for my pamasahe. I would really want to. Hahahaha. Lol.

neil[dot]alexandro[at]gmail[dot]com

WAAH! I CAN’T TAKE THIS ANY LONGER

SO-CALLED HIATUS

Geez. This was the first time I declared hiatus. Yet thinking about the blog hibernation bugs me everytime I open my PC here in Dasma.

You know, when I double click the Start Button, instead of looking directly at the “All Programs”, I gaze my vision rightward and then read “Connect To” with the puny little arrow on the right. Then temptation comes in. While my mouse tries to resist, my stupidity acts otherwise. Them after a few seconds, I see myself clicking the “Connect” button on the Connect to Speedtouch Connection dialog box. Then boom, the first page is my stupid blog.

I usually do that. I announce something publicly, whether I’m on the fatty flesh in front of an ugly audience or not, I am always perturbed by such announcement, feeling guilty that I have announced something that I might not actually fulfill it. And then I posted something just 2 days after the so-called “3-week hibernation”.

Which means I cannot pose as a politician on the next 10 years. Get it? Haha.

————-

SO-CALLED ‘GREAT OPPORTUNITY’ *UPDATED*

I’m not sure if posting about this would endanger my life. But I don’t care. Better if more people would be informed about it.

February 29, Thursday, some Eric Legazpi from the military, whom we and the residents of our subdivision rarely see, went to visit our house and asked my mom if there is some “Neil Brian” who lived here (insert complete address here, I know where or from whom he got it).

Mom got worried. This Eric Legazpi appeared to have been contacted by some bosses in Malacañang, provided my complete address and my slumbook details from my Multiply public profile. And GUESS WHAT? He claims that I did an application to enter the military school, and that I have a very lovely wife. Musta naman yun? (How’s that?)

Mom hastily denied such claim. Like, a big WHAT? Never would a kid like Neil attempt to join the army, now that he’s well informed about the military and its cohoots, Mom retorted. And a big HELLO? Si Neil? [Lampang batang iyon, Mom thought] Magmi-military?

My mom was crying when I called her on the phone about this.

This was simultaneous with the text messages I receive from a guy named Arman Garcia who so-called was a former PUP student who texted me that my ‘good writing’ will offer ‘great opportunities’.

I thought his makabayan language (makabayan, nationalistic in purely persuasive Tagalog tone) in his text messages points towards these people who’ve been so patient in insisting me to be ‘active’ again (as if I was active). So for days, I tried to make myself stupid. I just jerked around as if I have some textmate who would want to meet me in a ’secret place away from everybody’.

When this Eric Legazpi haphazardly interrogated my mom about my existence in the address, I texted this Arman. What a great coincidence, I told him. He called me and then told me his real motive–to enter the party cell of the CPP-NPA.

WHAT?! ME, A MEMBER OF THE CPP-NPA? HELLO?

I think he lost his sense of hearing when I shouted a big ‘what’ on my phone. Why the hell a sluggish looking army personnel approach my mom and ask if I live here in Dasma and that he confirms I have applied for the military? And what a good timing that he is super insistent to meet me in Manila.

My mom confronted this Eric Legazpi. To make her statements short, she just said this. “Hindi ako bobo.” (I’m not stupid) Later I knew that this Eric Legazpi was squeezing his convincing powers by telling my mom that the survey he was conducting was for me who will have an “on-the-job training” in AFP, because I am a 3rd year Mass Comm student.

Hahaha. SO much for reading my blogs, scumbags.

WHY I WAS GIVEN ‘GREAT OPPORTUNITIES?

1. I had good connections with Maria Teresa Pangilinan. She’s my friend. A former co-staffer in our school publication. Our former CSG President. Now, I have no news about her, but some say she’s working in GMA7 already.

2. I was active in The Gazette. They thought The Gazette is radical. No, they’re not. They were. Now, I don’t know what The Gazette really is since I self proclaimed to have left the pub for good.

3. I was an activist. Now, I’m a no-do-gooder student journalist.

In short, I am not insurgent.

I am not a communist.

I am not seditious.

I am not a rebel.

It’s just that I am not stupid. Student journalists are not stupid.

WAAH! I CAN’T TAKE THIS ANY LONGER

SO-CALLED HIATUS

Geez. This was the first time I declared hiatus. Yet thinking about the blog hibernation bugs me everytime I open my PC here in Dasma.

You know, when I double click the Start Button, instead of looking directly at the “All Programs”, I gaze my vision rightward and then read “Connect To” with the puny little arrow on the right. Then temptation comes in. While my mouse tries to resist, my stupidity acts otherwise. Them after a few seconds, I see myself clicking the “Connect” button on the Connect to Speedtouch Connection dialog box. Then boom, the first page is my stupid blog.

I usually do that. I announce something publicly, whether I’m on the fatty flesh in front of an ugly audience or not, I am always perturbed by such announcement, feeling guilty that I have announced something that I might not actually fulfill it. And then I posted something just 2 days after the so-called “3-week hibernation”.

Which means I cannot pose as a politician on the next 10 years. Get it? Haha.

————-

SO-CALLED ‘GREAT OPPORTUNITY’ *UPDATED*

I’m not sure if posting about this would endanger my life. But I don’t care. Better if more people would be informed about it.

February 29, Thursday, some Eric Legazpi from the military, whom we and the residents of our subdivision rarely see, went to visit our house and asked my mom if there is some “Neil Brian” who lived here (insert complete address here, I know where or from whom he got it).

Mom got worried. This Eric Legazpi appeared to have been contacted by some bosses in Malacañang, provided my complete address and my slumbook details from my Multiply public profile. And GUESS WHAT? He claims that I did an application to enter the military school, and that I have a very lovely wife. Musta naman yun? (How’s that?)

Mom hastily denied such claim. Like, a big WHAT? Never would a kid like Neil attempt to join the army, now that he’s well informed about the military and its cohoots, Mom retorted. And a big HELLO? Si Neil? [Lampang batang iyon, Mom thought] Magmi-military?

My mom was crying when I called her on the phone about this.

This was simultaneous with the text messages I receive from a guy named Arman Garcia who so-called was a former PUP student who texted me that my ‘good writing’ will offer ‘great opportunities’.

I thought his makabayan language (makabayan, nationalistic in purely persuasive Tagalog tone) in his text messages points towards these people who’ve been so patient in insisting me to be ‘active’ again (as if I was active). So for days, I tried to make myself stupid. I just jerked around as if I have some textmate who would want to meet me in a ’secret place away from everybody’.

When this Eric Legazpi haphazardly interrogated my mom about my existence in the address, I texted this Arman. What a great coincidence, I told him. He called me and then told me his real motive–to enter the party cell of the CPP-NPA.

WHAT?! ME, A MEMBER OF THE CPP-NPA? HELLO?

I think he lost his sense of hearing when I shouted a big ‘what’ on my phone. Why the hell a sluggish looking army personnel approach my mom and ask if I live here in Dasma and that he confirms I have applied for the military? And what a good timing that he is super insistent to meet me in Manila.

My mom confronted this Eric Legazpi. To make her statements short, she just said this. “Hindi ako bobo.” (I’m not stupid) Later I knew that this Eric Legazpi was squeezing his convincing powers by telling my mom that the survey he was conducting was for me who will have an “on-the-job training” in AFP, because I am a 3rd year Mass Comm student.

Hahaha. SO much for reading my blogs, scumbags.

WHY I WAS GIVEN ‘GREAT OPPORTUNITIES?

1. I had good connections with Maria Teresa Pangilinan. She’s my friend. A former co-staffer in our school publication. Our former CSG President. Now, I have no news about her, but some say she’s working in GMA7 already.

2. I was active in The Gazette. They thought The Gazette is radical. No, they’re not. They were. Now, I don’t know what The Gazette really is since I self proclaimed to have left the pub for good.

3. I was an activist. Now, I’m a no-do-gooder student journalist.

In short, I am not insurgent.

I am not a communist.

I am not seditious.

I am not a rebel.

It’s just that I am not stupid. Student journalists are not stupid.

I OFFICIALLY ANNOUNCE

That I’m on a self-declared 3-week hibernation in the blogosphere. As if people would care.

Sheesh. I’m so busy. And I don’t yet have my own PC. Sissy. Cheesy. Zzzz.

As of now, I’m looking forward to have these abominably inexplicable requirements accomplished at the end of the semester. And yes, I don’t care about the Philippine Blog Awards because I’m pretty sure I’ll be running out of wealth at the end of March and forget about traveling to Manila and pretend that I’m some no-care-no-do-gooder punk who loves wearing plastic eyeglasses and more ands. Talk about calling the attention of my dad for some wage increase ^_^.

1. Super duper long multi-paged cover-to-cover exam of Atty. Meñez who, apparently, are not in good terms with our colloquial mentality due to his absurd pride. So ordered.

2. Function Hierarchy Diagram and Data Flow System of De La Salle University – Dasmariñas. Unfortunately, DLSU doesn’t want to be disturbed. Sheesh.

3. Research about the behavioral, physical, and academic effects of free tv animated programs on children. How many times have we done this research, huh?

4. Research about the… well, I dunno. I didn’t attend our class for two days straight because of Atty. Meñez’ film about a journalist (and we’ve had Ellen Tordesillas. whopee!). Yet, I end up finishing the editing half-baked because some scum told me that I have to come to school as early as 9 am. Screw him.

5. And many more. There’s too many, I don’t know how to translate it to Filipino.

Kthnxbai. See you soon.

PLEASE COME HOME

This is one of my feature article entries which got a perfect score. And it’s my centenary blog post. Hope you’ll like it. ^_^

And I apologize if I can’t visit your blogs that often… I’m just so busy dealing with Nicolas Copernicus and Doraemon in Kingdom Come.

—————

Entry #10 – Personality Sketch

PLEASE COME HOME
by Neil Brian Bernardo

Discipline and self-reliance. That’s what my Dad always reminds to us whenever we stumble on the “ginisang kalabasa with talong and other poisonous condiments” he served on the table–when we still have that “table”, I mean. I was still a kid back then, a kid whose brain worked like a cretin and never cared about the wonders of escayola and water mixed together. Which means I didn’t listen to the morning sermons of my Dad and focused only on the orange juice beside me. Later I knew, when my Dad was still of the same age as mine, he didn’t formally go to schooling and sold pan de sal on the streets. Then I stared at the poisonous vegetables on my plate again and wondered endlessly until the day this article came to be.

My dad is a sculptor–an occupation where none of the residents in Paete, Laguna would question. He sketches, he paints, he carves, and he furnishes. he had been earning a lot since he started laboring in his uncle’s firm in Laguna. But he was never contented. He wanted to go to school and be educated by the wonders of science and linguistics. So he worked out for it. For years, he had been selling bread on his bicycle like a newspaper boy to suffice his school expenses until he reached highschool. He worked all for himself, by himself.

He never had a perfect family. He never had perfect parents.

His father was a drunkard. His mother never took education as a priority. Neither his brothers nor sisters as well. But my Dad tried to become one and helped himself and his family in their everyday expenditures–whether important or superficially ‘recreational’. And he finished college with the help of his aunt in Las Piñas.

And now, I am seated uncomfortable against the table with the poisonous vegetables on my pink plate. I never experienced being scolded by my Dad with his hands or his Salvadore belt. But his intimidating authority speaks by itself. How would I be disciplined and become self-reliant with a squash and an eggplant even in at that time I already knew that squash has high vitamin A while the eggplant had no other nutritive values except fiber and carbohydrates?

Before, I never eat vegetables unless a belt or a broomstick is seated right next to me. But Dad insists. We should learn to live life on our own with the squash and the eggplant.

He learned the fundamentals of sculpting by just watching his co workers doing their giant sculptures in their warehouse. Whenever he is alone, he would experiment on anything. He secretly used his grandfather’s tools whenever he practices sculpting. And he would never stop until he gets it correctly even if he is working already in Guangdong, China.

Whenever he is at home, he would sing and sing even if all our glasswares have cracked up. Then I would get another microphone and devastate our whole community just for the sake of thinking what he should design and carve. And then if he’s done, he would not want anyone to get past through the lines in the house which he called “Area of Responsibility: Do Not Disturb. Point of No Return.”

Whenever he is back at home, he would always want to heighten the volumes of our audio system and watch movies he bought in Hongkong. Not because he wanted to show-off to our neighbors that he finally arrived from the greenest pastures, but just to do what he always did when he is alone or with other people in his apartment in China.

Whenever he is back at home, he would talk to us about the cruelties of working outside the Philippine Archipelago, like there are so many burglars and snatchers in China and how all my Dad’s most expensive perks had been stolen by the Chinese. He would talk about himself, about pornography, about mommy in their first years in life, everything. Everything that would scope all the 13 years he missed without us his family beside him. he would just talk like any father would talk about.

Whenever he is back at home, he would teach us what he learned in his work–digital imaging, 3D modeling and animation, designing, among others just for a couple of minutes and then leaves us to study it only by ourselves.

Whenever he is back at home, he would always make everything seemed perfect. The looks of the house, our talent, our speaking, our attitude towards others, and the like. He is not that strictly a perfectionist, but he preferred to have us give our best on everything so as not to disappoint other people.

Whenever he is back at home, the house is of his full authority. He is the head of the family, the husband of my mother, and the father of my kuya, my brother Henry and Teri, and me.

He would tie our shoes before we go to school. He would clean our appliances and windows and reorder our upholstery a whole lot differently. He would give us his things and call it “our own”. He would ask questions and answer it himself. He would laugh at all the cheesiest shows on television and yawn at all we though the funniest. He would design a floor plan of our small bungalow house and then keep it to himself. He would play Chinese songs, sing along with it, and then I would always end up memorizing the song earlier than he. Yet for retribution, he would cook his all-time favorite ‘ginisang kalabasa with talong and other poisonous condiments’ and commands us to fill our stomachs with this special treat of his with the broomstick and belt on our side. He would spend a lot and care less on the following days.

He would always do that whenever he is back at home. As of now, I’m contented and satisfied with the online chat and emails.

I rarely see him in his bad cold weather outfit everytime he comes home. Because he rarely does come home. His Giordano polo shirt bought in some luxurious department store in Hongkong complements well with blue, sometimes brown, jacket filled with nonempty pockets of varying sizes. Unlike those OFWs from the Middle East who come out of the wide open with gold jewelry horrendously contrasting with their obvious monstrosity, he never wore any except his replaceable wristwatch.

But will all the luggage and the unlabeled Balikbayan boxes next to him, we who anticipate his arrival on the NAIA or stunned for his surprise return of the comeback, think of only one thing:

No, not the “pasalubong”.

Dad is finally back.

—————

Happy 20th Church anniversary to you, Mom and Dad! Love ya and all!

INTEREST

My, uhm, new header image(?). What do you think?

If your heart speaks louder than what you think, you would need no extra effort to bring out the best in you… whenever and wherever you need it.

-Neil Bernardo,
La Viscaya: Resum Postiva Vregulavya.

Haha. Pretending to have finally published my comic book with the original concept of “universal orbital microcosmic existence.” Explanation? Wait until I find interestin publishing such. ^_^

——-

When I find something not really interesting, no matter how important it is, I don’t bother. Unless there’s a Lucky Me! Pancit Canton or two to be offered as just compensation.

Keeping the day intact and focused is no big deal for me. I need a reason to everything. Reason to continue what I have started. Reason to interest me to continue what I have started, that is.

I don’t know why I came up to take journalism as a career in the future. For someone who have been submerged to visual arts for my entire life, writing and speaking is a mile more estranging.

My former classmates would always be surprised everytime they ask me about the course I am taking in college. They know me as an uber classroom boy who didn’t bother socializing with the outside world (that is, batchmates of other sections). They know me as the art class professor who does all the room decorating, drawing, painting, and props making in play productions and major school events. They know me as someone who didn’t extrovertly showcase himself in front of many people like some celebrity wannabe in Starstruck. They know me as someone who doesn’t want to be known to many people, but the congratulatory banners in our school screaming my whole name would oppose my solitary prerogative.

They know me as an artist who writes incoherently and grammatically incorrect. So I preferred drawing than essay writing.

“Tapos Mass Comm ka?“, they asked. Then I remember they were claiming for flash nose bleeds. They found me a bit different when they heard me answering their subsequent questions in an unusual diction and language.

Now, major subjects suddenly pop out of our curriculum. Subjects like I am required to create a short interpretative/investigative news report vid about the Sangguniang Kabataan abolishment in the Philippines. Or the present state of mass media influence to society phenomena. Or the application of Law of Mass Media in the short documented life and profession of Ellen Tordesillas. All which requires proper time management and money and, of course, interest. Then the reason to continue will be the last on the checklist.

Our school can’t gratify my expectations, and it greatly affected me. I lost my interest to exert extra effort in our class.

But after the interviews with some media practitioners, I think I have to change my mind.

———

We’ve interviewed Cong. Gilbert Remulla last Friday. And I was starstruck. He’s Gilbert, and he’s a Remulla. I finally had my hands on him for the first time.

Sorry. No pics. Wish Cong. Remulla would read this and send us our pic ^_^. Earth calling Cong. Gilbert Remulla… yohoo!!

Then Ellen Tordesillas on the next. God, I thought we would spend a lot for her interview. But we’re so surprised. We’ve munched on free supreme cheezy crust pizzas she ordered, and for merienda a plate of seafood fettucini and ravioli courtesy of her friend Sol Vanzi, a former journalist. We’ve learned so much from her, you might be interested in what we have talked about.

Say “Mouse”! I thought that was serious.
I really said mouse.

I really looked tired. Yet in fact, my stomach is full
of 8 pounds of Italian recipes. Haha. I need a workout

"HALF"PY

Got some text messages while I was playing with myself.

“Happy Valentines Day sa inyong lahat! Wala na akong load bukas kaya ngayon ko kayo babatiin. Happy valentines Day!”
(Happy Hearts day to all! I’m running out of text credits so I’m greeting you this early. Happy Valentines Day!”

Then another

“Happy Valentines! Yihee! Mwuah!”

So I grouptexted them with this.

“Happy Hearts Day!”

After 5 seconds, one sms received.

“Happy Hearts Day rin!” (Happy Hearts Day too!)

Then I responded in an instant.

“Happy Healthy Hearts Day! No worries! No pains! No risk of cardiac arrest for singles like me! happy Healthy Hearts Day!”

What a good evening to start the sleeping without worrying to spend on a date or another for tomorrow.
—————

I never mentioned about my housemate, Mac, who always cracked the Hulk out of me when I realize he’s cooking my canned goods in my cabinet without asking permission. Now I’m mentioning him (for art’s sake). Apart from that, he always use some of my thingies and claims it as his own because of his ignorance not to ask anyone if someone owns it or not.

Another apart from that, he asked me to burn CDs for him and do a personalized cover using his (insert grotesque overly catastrophic looking parloric gaypose here) photo and then after a whole month, he didn’t pay for it. And he intentionally fools us that he always runs out of money albeit we are aware that he notoriously lies to us to divert the fact that he used his money to buy but nonsensical, absurd items for his perverted vanity.

Then yesterday, one of my housemates rushed to the canteen where my classmates and I salivate their expensive but not good tasting meals. She was hysterical.

“Winakwak ng aso yung hita ni Mac kanina… hindi ko alam gagawin…”
(A dog devoured Mac’s leg just now. I dunno what to do)

I feel sorry. But my brothers and my classmates think (while smirking and laughing silently) otherwise.

"HALF"PY

Got some text messages while I was playing with myself.

“Happy Valentines Day sa inyong lahat! Wala na akong load bukas kaya ngayon ko kayo babatiin. Happy valentines Day!”
(Happy Hearts day to all! I’m running out of text credits so I’m greeting you this early. Happy Valentines Day!”

Then another

“Happy Valentines! Yihee! Mwuah!”

So I grouptexted them with this.

“Happy Hearts Day!”

After 5 seconds, one sms received.

“Happy Hearts Day rin!” (Happy Hearts Day too!)

Then I responded in an instant.

“Happy Healthy Hearts Day! No worries! No pains! No risk of cardiac arrest for singles like me! happy Healthy Hearts Day!”

What a good evening to start the sleeping without worrying to spend on a date or another for tomorrow.
—————

I never mentioned about my housemate, Mac, who always cracked the Hulk out of me when I realize he’s cooking my canned goods in my cabinet without asking permission. Now I’m mentioning him (for art’s sake). Apart from that, he always use some of my thingies and claims it as his own because of his ignorance not to ask anyone if someone owns it or not.

Another apart from that, he asked me to burn CDs for him and do a personalized cover using his (insert grotesque overly catastrophic looking parloric gaypose here) photo and then after a whole month, he didn’t pay for it. And he intentionally fools us that he always runs out of money albeit we are aware that he notoriously lies to us to divert the fact that he used his money to buy but nonsensical, absurd items for his perverted vanity.

Then yesterday, one of my housemates rushed to the canteen where my classmates and I salivate their expensive but not good tasting meals. She was hysterical.

“Winakwak ng aso yung hita ni Mac kanina… hindi ko alam gagawin…”
(A dog devoured Mac’s leg just now. I dunno what to do)

I feel sorry. But my brothers and my classmates think (while smirking and laughing silently) otherwise.

PILED

This is how my cellphone (showing off successfully inserted)
looks like. I created a template for Smartphone
inspired by the Jumong series.

I thought Mass Comm is easy.

The term was weird, I told to myself when I heard the world Mass Comm from one of my Grade 3 classmates. We were telling stories about what we will do if we finally finish our schooling. I said to her, oh, I guess I’ll be following my father’s footsteps in China. I will draw, design, and craft for his company if in case he falls ill in his job. Or, I’ll be more ambitious and get richer than JAZA and build a company where I can create my own animé series and be proud to project it all over the world as the very first all Filipino animated series…

Diane just said this blankly. “Ako? Maskom,” (Me? Mass Comm) with that strong Filipino twang.

Anong Maskom?, I asked her.

“Maskom. Maskomportable.” (Mass Comm. More comfortable)

For so many years, idea never came into being that I would be taking this course upon entering college. No one did. All my classmates would say that I might be some architect that would design the most intricate house in the Philippines and would cost a hundred million pesos. Some insist that I would be entering UP to take Fine Arts and produce the very first commercially successful animated series made by a Filipino. Others would rant that I will be following my dad’s footsteps and set my ugly feet permanently in China or Japan.

Yet I took BA Mass Communication, without knowing that I will be majoring Journalism.

There’s this stereotype about students with their reason that Mass Communication will not involve math ever. No. Your first semesters will be bombarded with lots of math than any other non-math-related course in your university. Then you would kill yourself for disbelief.

Second, Mass Communication is easy. Yes, it’s very easy to write and speak. No, because you need your brain to work efficiently and simultaneously while you speak and write. It’s no joke. Math is easy because you just have to compute and compute. And there’s always an exact answer. I find engineering courses easier since I bested Math in my highschool. Squee.

I halfheartedly admit the fact that during the times when I was clueless to think of what degree I will pursue in college, I took consideration that the course will be easy for me, and highly related to my interest directly proportional to its costs.

Then, I realized I was fooling myself.

I am so piled with lots of projects.

Filming is never easy for us. Most of us here in CvSU are members of the Philippine povertsia, where we would nearly beg for alms just to be provided with our school expenses.

My projects are the following:

1. Short feature/documentary/whatever film about a media practitioner, preferably a journalist, and his life according to the laws of mass media. Courtesy of our terror but friendly but still terror professor Atty. Adonis Meñez.

2. Short investigative/interpretative report about the present condition of the Sangguniang Kabataan in Cavite

3. Case analysis about the “Mass Media to Society” influence. That means, we can go to places we never imagine.

4. Communication research mini thesis. We haven’t discussed what we should study about.
And

5. Another case analysis slash feasibility study of another function hierarchy diagram about the Personal Identification System in De La Salle University-Dasmariñas.

Sheesh. And it’s tentative. God save us all.

———

BTW, I forgot to mention about the gift I received from Chas. Golly. A cute reindeer stuff toy souvenir from Norway. Hihi. It’s so cute, all my schoolmates wanted to steal it. Because they rarely find one similar to mine. They’re so envious, they nearly had stolen my bag and slashed my throat. All because of my cute, cuddly, internationally-signed-sealed-and-delivered, reindeer stuff toy. Hahaha.

Thanks Chas!