and we talk about dying.

My weekend has been spent mostly watching movies. I can't find any way to waste my time and doing my backlog in work is quite tedious and frustrating. Whenever I see the paper works I throw a fit and I lose my head. Weekend is ruined and the cascading effect takes its toll on Monday. I don't want also to read books though I am already quite behind my reading. I just want to be lazy. Hehehe.

Last Eiga Sai, I only watched "Feel the Wind" and "Villon's Wife". The featured movie was "Departures" which sadly I haven't seen until now. Hehehe. Curious about the various comments I read in the reviews about its being a tear-jerker, I downloaded the movie to prove it first-handedly. Though there were scenes that were touching, it didn't give me the moment to shed a single tear which was quite frustrating. I was expecting too much perhaps and ended up denying the movie had already ended. Perhaps the big screen would be a great help. I watched it on my laptop. Anyway, the movie dealt about "departures", mostly about dying and separation like what happened to Daigo and his wife. And of course the joy and peace that followed after restoration. "Death is harder for those who are left behind." 

This brings me to the second point, "What would you do if you know you only have few seconds to live?" Honestly, I don't know what to do. I haven't made my "Bucket List" yet. So many plans to accomplish and seemingly so little time. Death is such a short notice. When I watched the "Source Code" I couldn't help but wonder, "Yeah, how will I make every second of life count?" Be worldly? Influence others? Build more relationships? Be attuned with God? I know the answer but my doubt is hanging me on balance. I feel powerless at the thought. If only I could turn back time. But what  would I do? I don't have any regrets in life except having just enough money. I want to be filthy rich, being able to buy what I want. Hehehe. 

What if I could travel through time and manipulate the course of history? Perhaps live in the time of the great thinkers and steal their ideas? Or maybe travel to the place where you could be mistaken as a god and be served all day and night? Or travel through time and cheat death and live like an immortal traveling from one time to another? The only underside is not being with someone but yourself. Would I risk? I watched "Cyborg She" and I had this thought. What if I could cheat death? Be with someone over and over again. Monopolize the history by jumping from time to time and annihilate the icon of the era. Evil, just plainly evil. I remembered a movie where in someone traveled through time and became a millionaire after placing a bet on the winning team. He got the idea from a sports book. I know there will always be a consequence. Cheating was never made to be perfect. But you can perfect cheating by going back again and again to the same scenario. Hehehe. Still my super-ego is working. Hehehe.

Cheating death entails a lot of consequence. But having death under your control would be a brilliant idea. No.1 in my Bucket list for that matter.

eiga sai 2011 and my personal blah-blah.

I always like how Japanese people talk. There's always this sound that makes me smile whenever the language is uttered. It was like the air is sending  whispers of ticklish incantations in my mind. I always smile. This is one of the reasons why I like Japan. There's a rough edge at the sounds and then there's a mixture of innocence and candor in the way the sounds wave and mix in my ears. And I always like the mystery behind it. Japan, for me, is synonymous with mystery. It is like being entangled in a web of beauty, mystery and a hint of roughness. Cherry blossoms, samurai and kimonos are the tangible proofs, to name a few. Of course, there are the movies. The Eiga Sai 2011. 

This year's Eiga Sai had been a frustration for me since I wasn't able to watch most of the movies. I managed to watch only the last two movies charged to lack of information. Last year's film festival was a remarkable one since Ms. Elna had been there. She was the culprit behind this. She had introduced me to Eiga Sai which schedule I was totally clueless. The film viewing that I had this year was "scheduled" by accident. I and my girlfriend were passing by the entrance of the mall when the notice about the film festival hit our eyes. Love at first sight! It was late already when we cleared our schedules. The first one in our menu was the movie "Feel the Wind" by Sumio Omori. We watched also the "Villon's Wife".

"Feel the Wind" was like running with the runners for the last 2/3 parts of the 133-minute movie. It was the "Chariots of Fire" of Japan only this time it tackles with athletes who need to battle their own issues and strugles in life. Haiji, wanting his own dreams fulfilled, organized a team of seemingly incapable individuals under the coach who I think was better be relieved as a coach. Sleeping in the middle of a competition?

Let me cut it short, the team did not win but had shown what real winning means. The Hakone Ekiden (marathon) had seen more than just marathon that day. As a viewer, I had seen the unfolding of patience and determination. The movie ended with the question, "What is running?" with which the answer was not given. 

I remember one of the Nescafe commercial lines that goes, "Ikaw para kanino ka ba bumabangon?" It has the same appeal to me. It asks the most banal questions which answers can take us off-guard. Your depth of answer will tell the level of maturity that anchors in your being. The depth of answer will also tell our motives and concerns, particularly our circles of concerns. "What is running?" I can't basically answer this seriously. All I can say is that, "It is an infinitive." Why so serious? Seriously, that's how deep I am. Hehehe. 

Anyway, the movies were really nice.

scheiße! scheiße! she was born that way.

People are unique but it doesn't mean all are original. We are pieces of what we have in our lives; the people around us, the stacks of literature we read, the experiences that taught us. We are pieces of the portions put together like threads woven into a tapestry. Therefore, my point is, no song or literature is original since it may be an inspiration drawn from pieces preceding it. It may be unique in its own way but again, repeat, repeat, repeat, nothing in this world is original. 

Let me get to the bottom of this. Lady Gaga's new album has created a hype since the time she has proclaimed that this is the album of the decade. Well, I got hold of the leaked songs (whether it is true or not, I don't care) and after ripping it and listening to it, the songs are scheiße good! Mostly electronic beats that drag you to the dance floor and a reminiscence of early 90's, the album presents also messages where everyone finds a place to fit in. Hair/Born This Way deals with freedom of expression, Government Hooker with freedom from censorship, Bloody Mary with religion, Judas with love, sin and contempt, etc. All the songs ride in the same motorcycle bearing the theme about embracing one's self, self-acceptance and freedom. 

Personally, I like the Marry the Night, Judas, Hair, Scheiße (for the gibberish lyrics and bloody beats), Bloody Mary, Heavy Metal Lover, Electric Chapel and The Edge of Glory. Talking about BTW being an Album of the Year, well, it's Gaga's problem. I won't go up the stage with her when she gets the award, so practically, I don't care and she either. Lol.    

Amidst the kinkiness and playfulness of the song lyrics ("I want your whiskey mouth/ All over my blonde south"), Lady Gaga again invests in filthy and sexy moans, theatrical vocals doused with electronic guitars, saxophones and whatevers. And I like it. For the past twelve songs, opening with Marry the Night, you'll find yourself drowned in an amniotic fluid  of electric beats but will later end with a breather You and I and finally be born with The Edge of Glory sticking in your ears. That's how the album Born This Way was born. It was just born that way. 

Comparing her with Madonna, for me, is already a cliche. As I've said, no one is original. Lady Gaga is unique in her own way. Staying on the uterus of her hyped album phenomenon and until its birth, she deserved somehow, just like any newborn,  a pat on the back and a welcome on a comfy crib. 

We don't care what people say. We know the truth!  ~Lady Gaga, Bad Kids (Born This Way

the boy with the dragon tattoo.

funny :)

It is like sex without being sexual. 

The cinema has put it as R18 owing to the sexually-oriented parts which actually substantiate the story of the movie. The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo deals with sex, trauma, and a lot of violence, with a touch of racism. I haven't read the book, though I'm wanting to own the trilogy, but I read some blogs talking about it. There are a lot of books that handle such theme yet the story here was uniquely crafted when Lisbeth Salander, a goth-pierced-here-and-there-with-a-dark-haunting-childhood, was suddenly put into context. Out of curiosity, she hacked deeper into the life of Mikael Blomkvist and was suddenly riding with him in his investigation. As a know-it-all hacker, she managed to uncover more than what Blomkvist managed to unearth, thus, making Blomkvist a symphatetic journalist. But Salander brought him his salvation. Murderer found. Libel case closed. Capitalist dead. Girl with a wig. Done. 

It makes me want to read the book. And to have a dragon tattoo at my back. Fierce as Salander's. I had mine by the way which lasted weeks on my back. I didn't realize that my skin was as sensitive as my ego. The black "home-made" henna was replaced by red swelling. It's like the black ink was stripped off and VOILA! A red dragon!

the boy with the dragon tattoo (black version)

 

If you're curious about the red dragon tattoo, hmmm...Never mind. I'm on the process of healing. Hehehe. Anyhow, I hope I can have a copy of the trilogy. Weee! My birthday's coming.

doing things in a hurry.

latest sketch. boredom kills.

aanhin pa ang damo kung hindi naman ako kabayo.

At saka may kanin naman at ulam.

It’s Holy Week, particulary Black Thursday, again. Practicing Christians are deigned to abstain during this time from meat or any related food. The Church has ordered a restraining order for our mouths. Spell analogy. Most faithfuls today are spending much time in churches, or in their private places doing their penances and/or communing with God. Talking about hardcore practice of Christianity.

It is actually like an obligation to be out today and wear grim faces, not mentioning joining hours of processions and manifold forms of prayer. Christianity becomes an obligation. It becomes a routine. Its essence removed from the core, thereby producing timid, obedient, blind Christians. We become incongruous to the real faith and even think that because of such display we can pursue heaven with our own efforts. Heaven is earned through God, through Jesus. This is supposed to be the essence of the whole Holy Week scenario. The picture shows that man can’t attain salvation without Him. Well, aside from not eating meat, we are reminded today to practice abstinence that deals with our own meat, our flesh so to say, to sound human-friendly.

Our deprival of human comfort can be the key to destroy our human depravity. It’s a painful practice and we Christians call it sacrifice, penance, and whatever you want to coin it. The point is the flesh becomes our nemesis. But still we don’t do this as religion. “Because of love,” as what Father Martin in the Life of Pi said. Jesus’ performance in Calvary is a pure performance of love. And we, as Christians, do not just give him a standing ovation; instead, we go forth and deliver our own performances. Not as grand as what He had, but done out of love. Out of love.

Speaking of kabayo, I’m not neighing religious antics here. There is one, however, who neighs her own brand of religion. Rumor says that Lady Gaga is planning to release the video of her Judas this Easter Sunday. Hold your horses but Gaga will go spewing her music with Judas as her battle cry. I’ve heard the song. The techno-rock music was quite catchy with its ineluctable flow of lyrics, “Judas Juda-a-a, Judas Juda-a-a, Judas Juda-a-a, Judas…” Talking about having been smitten by Judas.

One question, “Do you know what’s the last name of Judas?” Hint: not Iscariot.

a leap of faith.

I knew two meters of jump was an impossible one. But I did it, though I killed one cup on my way.

This was actually about a peculiar game that we had during our Teachers' Summit. The player had to cross a track filled with cups which had to remain standing until the player totally reached the other end. This was a group task designed to be done by one representative and the others as guide. The glitch here was that the player had to cross blindfolded with his group mates as his guide and the other players as obstacles, or shall we say the distractions. Easy? Come to think of more than a twenty distractions and tell me if your brain will not summon all the words synonymous to confusion. This was an understatement especially when you're there trying to dissect the voice of your group mates from the disorienting noises and the pumping and thumping sound of your heart. Talking about adrenaline rush.

"Mike, can you jump?", I heard Ms. Jeni's whisper. "Yes, of course," was my immediate reply.

"Can you jump about two meters?" I thought I just heard my nervousness playing a fool out of me. "HUH?!" "Yes, can you jump two meters, Mike?", Ms. Jeni asked and this time there was conviction on her voice and there was the Jabberwocky in my heart. Two meters?!!

I remembered the movie, Jumper, in which the characters did nothing but ran and jumped. I thought maybe I could use that kind of exhibitionism. The only difference, though, was that they had powers and I got only my legs; my short, stout and unexercised legs. Jumping two meters was like breathing with one nostril, not impossible but highly improbable. Was their faith on me as long, or rather as short, as my legs? Or was my doubt as high as I could imagine my jump would be?

I closed my eyes although the blindfold was already hugging me in darkness. "Ms. Jen, I think I can do this." My doubt was resonating far across the lofty and cold mountains of Dahilayan. They reverberated dubiously masking my faked conviction and blended together with the laughters of my co-teachers. "I could do this," I told myself.

And I jumped.

And my heart jumped. The world jumped with me. I was deaf for a while when the laughters vacuumized the sound around me. There was laughter everywhere and there was me butt-flat on the ground unsparingly sitting on the oblivious, white and broken cup. I nearly did it but the cup took my victory away. Getting even, hahaha.

Our group did not win this game but the fun was worth more celebrating than the win. Sticks and stones may break my bones but jumping two meters (almost, actually) will always paint a smile on me. This was my leap of faith. And my teammates as well.

book review 2: i love more the books than the movies, until now.

There's always the bad taste of much expectation. I Am Number Four by Pittacus Lore had been sitting in the shelves of National Bookstore for quite sometime. It was the sole copy but such an eyesight for prying eyes and reading enthusiasts who thirst for such genre. I kept on returning to that same shelf hoping to get hold of that copy. Until one day it's not there anymore. I checked on the computer cataloguer. It's not there. Sold. Out if stock. After few, or more months, it's back on the shelf and I did not have the second thought of getting a copy. It remained dormant inside my bag for some days until boredom tells me to read it. Actually, it was because of the movie that I finally decided to read it. Out of curiosity, and probably of frustration from the past incident , I finally finished it.

Here's what I found out.

It was a boring book. And I was sure of that. The start was a good kick off until it wore out towards the middle and finally died at the end. Although some parts were quite interesting, my reading cells were not aroused. My curiosity's paid it in dear amount, of another frustration and lack of sleep. It came upon me that the movie might be as boring as the book for, you know, some movies can be frustratingly beautiful or imaginatively crappy.

Here's what I found out.

The movie was good, visually impeccable, at least in effects. It's like watching a mash-up of contemporary superhero movies. Makes me think of Smallville, X-Men and the likes. Actually, The movie house was rather filled with "cute" sighs when the dog whimpered after its fight with the Moggy Beast. Apart from that, everyone's quiet, as quiet if I may say as my room when I was reading my book. But to tell you honestly, I like the last part when it reached the climax, the effects were at its peak. This was rather better than reading the book. A little bit disappointing but better than the frustration I got from reading the book. Sigh. The price of being a bibliophile is worse than a movie lover. Sigh. Sigh.

I love more the books than the movies, until now. But I will always be a book lover. Hehe.

read towards the end.

you touch my lips and i
feel the warmth
of your service, that
lavishness your embrace
hugs tight in your bosom
warm is what
welcomes me
satisfying,
invigorating,
my nerves pulsating
this clutch will tell you of
what is my longing all
about
my mouth grasps for your
curves
ever perfect yet ever cold
smiths of wonder may
have mold
yet this touch, this grip
you'll ever surrender
ever giving, your body
yearning
my touch, this stroke
this caress you silently
spoke
in the past,
unleash your coldness
and embrace my heart
warm in my heart
cold in my hand
we bond.
yet you never spoke
of love
must i be caught here
dreaming?
yet your surrender is
quite tempting
silent yet welcoming
cold yet enduring
goaded yet willing to be
a masochist for you
a sadist i am of your
indifference.
you're my,

spoon.

a spoon of fun.

I need a breather after days of work and a series of sleepless nights reading a book. I have finished reading the first two books of the Mortal Instruments. And although I started reading the third book, I'd rather take a break because the book is literally suffocating me. It's thick and the plot is so simple, yet it's worth a read. After scarring my wallet, I spend days trying to destroy my eyes. Reading under a poor light and actually almost everywhere where prying eyes are not present. I prefer to read in McDonald's 'coz literally the place is jam-packed of people who mistakenly think it's a library oozing with caffeine and burgers, so camouflaging with your book is effortless. Anyhow, I digested two books and I'm reserving the third book for dessert.

Lately, I can't help but be allured by books. The last purchase sent me thrilled and baffled. I just bought "I Am Number Four" by Pittacus Lore. It's lurking inside my bag waiting to be stripped of its dignity. The busy schedule and the endless excuse of eye fatigue will temporarily put me under the shadow of reading hiatus. And blogging hiatus? The latter is actually due to laziness. I don't exactly know the reason behind this, but my mind seemed to be at focus when I'm snuggling with my blanket. It's like there's a spontaneous firework of ideas and I'm too lazy to stand and get my journal to jot them. Random ideas seemed to flock incessantly inside my mind like a cafe filled with morning coffee drinkers. Restless and volatile. When I try to make a mental note, I will just wake up frustrated trying to catch the last thread of my memory. I need rest. Life is a mixture of poison and antidotes. I need the antidote side of it. I need fantasy. Life is too real that I need to dilute it with fantasy.

I need to watch a movie.

I watched Burlesque. It's a story of a small-town girl dreaming something big and suddenly had the biggest break of her life when her talent was accidentally uncovered. Well, as the line in the movie went, "every opportunity has a shelf-life", Ali (Christina Aguilera) grabbed that opportunity and went to a series of ups and downs and literally the movie ended like a fairytale. Watching the movie was like watching an anthology of Aguilera music videos with the special participation of Cher. The grooves of half-naked girls, brazen colors and the striking lines somewhat paid off, putting life between boredoms. Stanley Tucci and Cher tandem pulled it. Tucci’s acting, for me, is nostalgic to The Devil Wears Prada, minus the awkward scene between Tucci’s character and his lover.

There were scenes in the movie which were actually confusing as to where did they get the inspiration to include such parts. The seduction part, although sexy and naughty, was an example. The business part was cliché yet its importance was revealed at the end. If you opt for the intellectually challenging movie, then this movie is not for you. Burlesque was just my right type of antidote.

I want to watch it again ‘coz it’s like watching a flimsy yet colourful musical, not serious but not boring. When your life is ragingly toxic, even a spoon of fun is worth it.

worm.

This is my first post since new year came. The start of this year has been good so far. Personal life is good. Love life is also good, in fact superb. Career ( I like to call it work) is also good, except for some stressful days which I think is really inevitable.

There has been so may things happening to be in a grateful mode and mood. Hehe. Anyway, the year that passed had been a fruitful one, in all aspect that is. Although there were periods of passiveness, it was a productive one.

Anyway, I've been busy with my journal. Hehehe..I will just post later about so and so. Hehehe..Here's a poem that I made. Care to comment.

ode to the worm

the worm,

silly, newly spawned

somewhere else

crawling on the immaculate,

floor oblivious to

its surroundings

mindful of its struggle,

struggle to self

the selfish awakening

its milky innards

beckoning the dangers

of oblivion

of Death

whose sinister smile

runs its sickle on its head,

the squirming body.

the humans,

silly, spawning everywhere

crawling on their bellies

with thoughts

of greed,

malice,

discontent,

pursuing, corrupting the

ever-changing world,

immaculate that was

humming in their universe

the sound of its end

beckoning the Armageddon

their bodies writhing

pleasures of

ungodly treasures,

malicious ventures,

atrocious behaviours,

crawling their way

to their graves,

with Death sweetly

smiling its embrace

coldness on its shoulder

staring in darkness

standing near the door

holding on its sickle

slicing through their heads.

Yet redemption.