flowchart

The New Library Hall and Kinks about it.

First Pacific Hall of the Rizal Library at the Ateneo de Manila University

a. It's ironic that the supposed "hall" houses most of the library.�

b. It's annoying in some way that they named the building after First Pacific. Again. That makes the First Pacific Center for Biological Sciences, the First Pacific Lecture Hall, and the First Pacific Hall of the Rizal Library. I think we should start calling ourselves "The First Pacific run Jesuit Ateneo de Manila University" (images used copyright of the First Pacific Company Limited and the Ateneo de Manila University)

c. The place is supposedly energy efficient, with the structure itself built to minimize heat retention and maximize cooling, but there are�air conditioning�units 2.5 meters away from each other all around the perimeter of the circulation and computer areas.

d. It's funny that the open access computer laboratory is on the fourth floor, and the open reading area is on the fifth floor. They're basically saying, "hey computer geeks and netizens,�since only your hands and fingers get exercise, we've decided to give you a cardio workout�every time�you feel like using the open access lab. Same goes for you bookworms and sleepyheads. Since you get even less exercise than the computer geeks, you have to climb one more staircase!"�

e. The bathrooms are in the hallways now, so no more kinky time stories I hope.�

f. It's great that we have a new library though. That makes 2 library buildings aside from the collection within departments. I am, albeit it showing otherwise in this post, thankful to Mr. Pangilinan and First Pacific for investing in the Ateneo, and the trust of a solid, well rounded, liberal arts based Ateneo education. I am also thankful to Dr. David of the Library administration. She has undoubtedly improved to great ends (using merely small means) the library system. Multitudes of online journal sources added, a new library building, and vastly improved library facilities. Hats off madam. You are a miracle worker.

Rebuilding Me

Ketsana, that great bitch, destroyed the Michael Cabauatan Library main collection which is, sans the vanity title, basically 98% of the books which I owned that I gave a crap about. Everything from all my college text books to my philosophy-theology collection, the books of my favorite fiction authors (Kundera, Murakami, Kafka, Amis, and Gaiman) and my complete collection of the written works of David Sedaris. I am of course devastated. That is tens of thousands of pesos in bound investments down the drain. That is also most of who I am as a person. These books were what defined me. That's why they were in a separate shelf away from my other books. They in one way or another challenged my understanding of self and reality.�

Anyway, what's gone is gone. I can't look back at their contents to see if I've deviated from their ideals. The reference to who I am is officially gone. For the record, only Foucault and Plato were saved (the Fr. David SJ readings). The beautiful thing about life and humanity though, is that the definition still exists in me, and that I am an ever changing individual. I may not be able to go back to Marcel, Hobbes, Vatican II, or any of the other lost books to revisit their impact on my psyche, but I guess the best thing to do is move forward. I can either look for the lost books (again) which are hard to find in bookstores in my little slice of 3rd world metropolis, or I can rebuild by reading new books and see if they affect my self and my reality.�

So: step 1. I bought Jean-Paul Sartre's Being and Nothingness, and Cohen's Humanistic Psychology. That's one lost book and one new book. Let's see where I go from there...

Rebuilding Me

Ketsana, that great bitch, destroyed the Michael Cabauatan Library main collection which is, sans the vanity title, basically 98% of the books which I owned that I gave a crap about. Everything from all my college text books to my philosophy-theology collection, the books of my favorite fiction authors (Kundera, Murakami, Kafka, Amis, and Gaiman) and my complete collection of the written works of David Sedaris. I am of course devastated. That is tens of thousands of pesos in bound investments down the drain. That is also most of who I am as a person. These books were what defined me. That's why they were in a separate shelf away from my other books. They in one way or another challenged my understanding of self and reality.�

Anyway, what's gone is gone. I can't look back at their contents to see if I've deviated from their ideals. The reference to who I am is officially gone. For the record, only Foucault and Plato were saved (the Fr. David SJ readings). The beautiful thing about life and humanity though, is that the definition still exists in me, and that I am an ever changing individual. I may not be able to go back to Marcel, Hobbes, Vatican II, or any of the other lost books to revisit their impact on my psyche, but I guess the best thing to do is move forward. I can either look for the lost books (again) which are hard to find in bookstores in my little slice of 3rd world metropolis, or I can rebuild by reading new books and see if they affect my self and my reality.�

So: step 1. I bought Jean-Paul Sartre's Being and Nothingness, and Cohen's Humanistic Psychology. That's one lost book and one new book. Let's see where I go from there...

My Day and Humanism

I woke up unknowing of how extremely disappointing this day would be.�

My Th135 (Introduction to the New Testament) class was dissolved. There were theoretically enough of us in the class. It's just that someone decided by some arbitrary standard that there weren't enough people. Thus, I had to look for a new elective to cover the lost elective. After a long search that brought about minimal possibilities and a singular semi-convenient result, I ended up with FA172.2 which is Introduction to Illustration as a Visual Narrative. For the love of God, how lame is a drawing elective for a science major?�

The Philosophy department's secretary is a stoic seemingly uncaring person who seems an ironic icon set amidst the humanist background that is the Philosophy department. Let me stress that this whole mess was never in any way my fault, but the way people seemed to turn down my buffer requests and pleas to join the other section of the same dissolved class, which was unfortunately tagged for graduate students, seemed to indicate to me that they don't really give a damn whose fault anything is, or in my case, whose fault it wasn't. I'm guessing their premise is "life isn't fair." The problem is that in the Catholic university setting, simply saying that life isn't fair is as if acknowledging that justice is flawed, and its flaws are acceptable parts of lived experience. This quietism is precisely what is to be avoided any Catholic, let alone philosophical humanists. Ateneo is supposed to be a humanist school. The bricks of this wonderful facade unfortunately tell a different story.

Tuition Complaints LAST FREAKIN' SEM IN ATENEO

PATAASAN ULI NG TUITION!
last sem 75K
this sem... 78K. FTW!!!!!

I have 2 jesuits for profs again.... that makes 6 all in all. Oyeah.

Simulan Na

Noong siya'y umalis, 'di man lang ako makaimik. Inabot ko ang aking maleta at pinuno ng mga alaala at mga "kung sana." Naghanap ako ng taxi sa kalakasan ng ulan, naghahangad ng kalayaan mula sa nararamaman.

At parang pinagpalang panalangin, pinihit ag tingin at nagtagpuan ko'y ikaw.

Paano mo nalaman na kailangan ka ng puso ko? Paano mo natutunang ayusin ito? Ang iyong mga kamay, bahid ang lunas sa sakit ng sinomang baliw na kanyang mga panaginip ay nasawi sa wala. Ayusin mo ako.

Hini ko maintindihan ang nararamdaman ko, baka nga naman plano ito ng tadhana na magtagpo tayo, dahil biglang naglaho ang mga hinanakit ko sa bawat pagkakataong magkalapit tayo.

At parang pinagpalang panalangin, nakayanan mong ibayuhin ang lungkot na nasa akin.

Paano mo nalaman na kailangan ka ng puso ko? Paano mo natutunang ayusin ito? Ang iyong mga kamay, bahid ang lunas sa sakit ng sinomang baliw na kanyang mga panaginip ay nasawi sa wala. Ayusin mo ako.

Titigil din ang ulan, at malilimot ko din ang kahapon, dahil ito na ang kinabukasan ko.

Paano mo nalaman na kailangan ka ng puso ko? Paano mo natutunang ayusin ito? Ang iyong mga kamay, bahid ang lunas sa sakit ng sinomang baliw na kanyang mga panaginip ay nasawi sa wala. Ayusin mo ako.

Ika'y Bubuohin

Sa paghihirap na sa wala ang hantungan
Sa nakukuhang kagustuhan pero wala ang kailangan
Sa pagod na hindi maitulog
Sa pagkahulog na walang hanggan

Ang mga luhang dupadaplos sa iyong mukha
Sa kawalan ng hindi na man maibabalik
Sa pagmamahal na walang kapalit
Ano pa nga ba ang mas masakit?

Ang liwanag ang siyang magdadala sa'yo sa aking piling
At ika'y pilit na bubuhayin
At sa aking makakaya, ika'y bubuohin.

Sa kataasan man o sa lubugan
Sa pagiirog na di mapakawalan
Sa kawalan ay walang matututunan
Matutunan ang sariling halaga

Ang liwanag ang siyang magdadala sa'yo sa aking piling
At ika'y pilit na bubuhayin
At sa aking makakaya, ika'y bubuohin.

Ang mga luhang dupadaplos sa iyong mukha
Sa kawalan ng hindi na man maibabalik
Ang mga luhang dupadaplos sa iyong mukha
At ako nama'y...

Ang mga luhang dupadaplos sa iyong mukha
Pangakong matututo sa mga kamalian ko
Ang mga luhang dupadaplos sa iyong mukha
At ako nama'y...

Ang liwanag ang siyang magdadala sa'yo sa aking piling
At ika'y pilit na bubuhayin
At sa aking makakaya, ika'y bubuohin.

Atenean pride post 2009 and the THES QS 2009

and the THES-QS is out again...
234. Ateneo de Manila University
262. University of the Philippines
401-500: La Salle
501-600: UST


SUBJECT AREA RANKINGS


Arts and Humanities:

88. Ateneo
93. UP

Life Sciences & Biomedicine

171. UP
186. Ateneo


Natural Sciences

114. Ateneo
176. UP

Social Sciences

123. UP
138. Ateneo
292. La Salle

Engineering & IT

243. Ateneo
281. UP

Yearbook Write-Up: Mic Needs Writers

I've decided that my yearbook write-up would be written by other people.

I ask YOU, dear invited friend to write your thoughts on me.

Make the text short and sweet, but of course, keep it relevant. Don't just write singular cliche words like "nice" and "chubby." Write a clear precise paragraph that you think best describes me, with an underlying theme of who I am and who I can become.

I need your writeups in a week's time (deadline July 22) so that I can take in the most significant bits and forward it to a 3rd party editor, again one of you dear invited friends, so they can write a succint paragraph in 20 lines, font size 10, within 2 inch borders on all sides.

I will then make the final edit.

Please make time to fullfill my little request :)

Books.

I've finished ALL of Sedaris' books... :'( What's a fan of sabaw comedic autobiographical essays to do?

Well... there's always that growing stack of books in my room...

I could finish the Diary of Sister Maria Foustina Kowalska...
Start reading my OWN copies of Nolan's 2 books...
Reread Vatican 2 (yeah right...)
Start on Immortality by MIlan Kundera...
Finish Fr. Bu's Hypnotherapy book...
Cracks in the Parchment Curtain maybe...
Start on Dance, Dance, Dance...
Murakami is another author whose books I've almost all completely read...
Buy and read that book by Ken Wilbur that I've been eyeing...
Read my Th151 readings (haha maybe later...)
AbPsych...
Organic Chem. Yeah, DEFINITELY Organic Chem...

I had my Fully Booked member card renewed!!!! 10% discounts are fun, but I was given a 20% discount coupon as well... Which book to use it on... hahaha ciao tutti arivadecci che bediamo domani.

Alternative Preferences

I payed a visit to PEx today... Then I saw this curious little forum called "Alternative Preferences." WTF is "Alternative Preferences?" It seems it's the new PC (note to idiotas: Politically Correct not Personal Computer) term for gay. Is homosexuality the only "alternative" preference? Well, I guess if I were a zoophile, I could post there too... hahaha I'll try that... I'll post a thread called, "What's the hottest animal you've ever f*****?" Let's see what happens... mwahaha!!! Or maybe a thread called, "hottest corpse you've ever kissed?"

Why Did You Leave Me Hoping

And now I'm left trying to understand it
The faults you find hidden inside of me
I hope you understand that you're the only one
I care for, hopelessly

It's fresh to mind, the promise that you made me
Promises that you would never leave
And at your parting you simply left my heart exposed
waiting on you, endlessly

Chorus:

Never to heal from the pain you gave me the day
that you left though you promised you won't go away
Weren't you the one who made up your mind, to decide
to be the first to avoid me?
Why did you say you would never leave me?

In my head your voice, it haunts my memory
I feel it in my skin, a silent breeze
as if you're always there always around me
watching silently

*Repeat Chorus

Never to heal from the pain you gave me the day
that you left though you promised you won't go away
Weren't you the one who made up your mind, to decide
to be the first to avoid me?
Why did you say you would never leave me?
Why did you say you would never leave me?

Schedule and Tuition Complaints 1st Sem 2009-2010

Time	M	T	W	H	F
1000
1030	Ch25-B	Th151-I	Ch25-B	Th151-I	Ch25-B
1100	C205	Bel310	C205	Bel310	C205
1130	Ph103-Z		Ph103-Z		Ph103-Z
1200	Bel208	Psy112-C	Bel208	Psy112-C	Bel208
1230		PsyLab	Ch26-B	PsyLab
1300			C209
1330		Psy113-B		Psy113-B
1400		CTC118		CTC118
1430
1500		Ps14-B		Ps14-B
1530		F304		F304
1600
1630
1700
1730
1800

The Sesquicentennial Year.

150 years of the Ateneo.

First Semester: 22 units.

75 thousand pesos.

WTF!?!?!?!?!

Ordinaire Deux

Prequel: http://mikecab.multiply.com/journal/item/355/Ordinaire

Then in your tiredness, fallen, you drifted to sleep.

In gentle breaths, it was as if your advocacies and hypocricies were non existent. I watched as light gave way to dusk and the night, and stars shone upon the sullied walls, the empty streets we used to haunt. With every breath, vapor seen on cold nights, and the rise and fall of your chest, the sweat drying, slick oil that shines in faded starlight. Your hand beneath your head, and another on your stomach's arch. Fingers, stained in spray color, and the scent of paint and perspiration wafting through the air. In that moment, beyond your words and our hopeful wishes, beyond our ironies and faults, was the silence I dared to break.

I know I've said not much, but know that now, as I speak, I know precisely what to say.

You. You are my frustration. This. This is my sublimation. I loved you, whoever you were, and whoever you would turn out to be. I loved you beyond the words, the art, and the anarchy.

summer assesment

The Semesteral Post of... Uber Thank-ness

It's a DAY before grades come out, and NONE of my professors (excluding the senior subject professors) have uploaded grades yet. It's just like them.

Anyway... I would like to give a shout out the the following people:

Fr. Jaime Bulatao SJ and Ma'am Gari Ramos of Psy115. A lot of people told me this would be useless, but I beg to differ. I still use hypnosis 'til now, and I have 2 constant patients and a freelancing patient. Plus, the rods do help in finding misplaced stuff.

Fr. Tony De Castro SJ of Hi165. In my eyes, History will never again be seen as inanity and subversion. Paradigm shifting complete I guess.

Harvey Keh of Th141. I'm rereading the book because I feel my theoretical understanding of Social Theology is inadequate, mostly my fault, but of course I am thankful that you opened up to us your experiences, and the experiences of our people. I could ask for no better praxial professor of Theology.

Ate Bench of OSCI. Immersion was overwhelming, and I learned about so much as I reflected on my experience. Thank you for facilitating my epiphany.

Sir Russell Julian of Bi149. I swear, your tests rock. They're fun and challenging, as was the way you handled the course, and I couldn't ask for anything more.

Ma'am Shy Baquiano of Psy108. I owe you a great apology. I, and the class in general gave you less credit than was due you. Looking back at the sem, the methods of teaching were problematic, but that is developed over time. I realized that you taught us well, and that among all the Psych subjects I've had, I remember the terms better under your instruction, and Ma'am Cara's.

Ma'am Tash Teran of Ch11. I owe you an apology as well. I'm just not a very good morning person. I pray you find comfort, and I pray your mother does as well... come what may, may she, as you, be comfortable and happy. You're still my favorite teacher. My inadequacy is my inadequacy. You are a great instructor.

T-Shirt: Male Version

ey, let me tell you know.
ohhhh girl.

trying to decide, trying to decide if i,
really wanna go out tonight.
i never used to go out without ya,
not sure i remember how to.
gonna be late gonna be late but,
all my bros gon have to wait cause,
your leavin' me made me feel like shit
i tried every pill in my cab'net.

I don't feel right now I'm not with you,
sick of this tux and my favorite shoes.
don' wanna go out 'coz I hurtin' too,
Just wanna get off when I think of you.
ima step out of my Escalade, go back
to my room and masturbate.
in bed i wait, just thinkin' back on times now gone,
oh, with nothing but a T-shirt on.

hey, gotta get goin' gotta get goin' but
i really feel I should stay home.
i thought maybe i'd do some clubbin',
but i couldn't get past the door and,
now i don't know now i don't know if i'm,
ever really gonna let you go and i,
can't forget the feel of your kiss.
The problem is of a weary love missed.

I don't feel right now I'm not with you,
sick of this tux and my favorite shoes.
don' wanna go out 'coz I hurtin' too,
Just wanna get off when I think of you.
ima step out of my Escalade,
go back to my room and mastubate.
in bed i wait, just thinkin' back on times now gone,
oh, with nothing but a T-shirt on.

trying to decide, trying to decide if i,
really wanna go out tonight.
i can't forget the feel of your kiss,
the problem is of a weary love missed.

I don't feel right now I'm not with you,
sick of this tux and my favorite shoes.
don' wanna go out 'coz I hurtin' too,
Just wanna get off when I think of you.
ima step out of my Escalade,
go back to my room and masturbate.
in bed i wait, just thinkin' back on times now gone,
oh, with nothing but a T-shirt on.

(again... I know this is soooo PI, but indulge me... This should be vulgar male version...)

Manong Guard and Friendster

I'm in the CTC net lab. (CTC112, not CTC101. Yes, CTC112 is open)
There's a manong guard beside me.
He's typing his status report.
He's also updating his Friendster account.
He's smiling. He looks happy.
Go manong guard O.o

Sobrino :'(

By the last page, my tears were flowing freely, as if fountains pouring from a well long untapped.

By some strange boredom, I picked up my Liberation Theology book and took a second read at "Awakening From The Sleep of Inhumanity" by Fr. Jon Sobrino SJ. I know the church calls his work dangerous, but I find beauty in his passion. Anyway...

“Little by little, I came face to face with the truly poor, and I am convinced that
they were the ones who brought about the final awakening. Once awakened,
my questions—and especially my answers to the questions—became radically
different.”

“The joy which comes when we
are willing to change our vision in order to see what had been there, unnoticed,
all along, and to change hearts of stone into hearts of flesh—in other words, to
be moved to compassion and mercy."

~

Although we are, wounded, defeated... We are still in a place I call... Home. Thanks so much guys.

Curly Top (Unfinished)

Yesterday, I went to the mall
There I saw my friend Curly Top
He was with some bimbo, shakin' her ass round the second floor
they were holding hands, together in the escalator
at once I called his name out, and when he took a look back
I had to scream my lungs out, Hey! Hey! That's my girl, man!

Hey hey you schmuck why did you take a shot at my girlfriend the slut?
Hey hey you schmuck why did you take a shot at my girlfriend the slut?
Hey hey you schmuck why did you take a shot at my girlfriend the slut?
Hey hey you schmuck why did you take a shot at my girlfriend the slut?

Finality

I had a dream last night that was both self-revealing and a bit melodramatic...
Forgive me if this seems like a stereotypical (as Sanny put it) "Mic Post." I promise, I'm still on sabbatical.

[Fade open lights] [Start scene]

(It's late at night. Mic and Iris sitting on the curb on Taft avenue, directly in front of Beanhoppers. Jeepneys pass them by, and on rarer occasion, a person passes by. Mic is holding a cup in his hand, and is wearing a long sleeve shirt that covers his hands.)

Mic: (sips from his cup and sighs)
Iris: (scoffs)
Mic: (lets out a single strong cough, rubs his chest, then hunches his back in exhaustion)
Iris: Are you okay?
Mic: (nods head and smiles)
Iris: Okay.
Mic: (starts coughing continuous loud straining, hacking coughs)
Iris: [as Mic coughs] Mickey! Mickey!
Mic: (coughing stops, but is still wheezing. He looks into the palm of his hand and sees blood splatters on the sleeve covering his hand.) [Zoom into bllod stain] (he stares non chalantly at the stain)
Iris: Ano problema?
Mic: (shows her the sleeve)
Iris: (freezes in her disbelief) Uuy. Uuuuy! Ano ba! Walang ganyanan!
Mic: E, ganun e.
Iris: (begins to cry) wala namang ganyan! Ano ba! Dali pumunta muna tayong ospital, wala lang yan! (stands to hail a jeepney to PGH)
Mic: (pulls her back down) Wag na. Actually, I'm kinda relieved.
Iris: Bakit naman?
Mic: Mapapakawalan ko na rin itong buhay na to. (looks up at the LRT line) Mabuti na ang mamatay ng unti-unti kaysa yung sa biglaan. Parang 2 months notice before retiring for good. I can finish up all I need to finish up, and I can say good bye to everybody.
Iris: Sandali ang, tawagan ko lang sina Meg at Thea...
Mic: Forget it. Iiyak lang yan.

[Mic wakes up]

What was most unnerving was the fact that I felt a general sense of relief in the dream, and during my waking moments. I did self hypnosis just to try to return to my dream and make sense of it, and self hypnosis concurred with my initial thought, that my feeling of irrelevance has caused me to think of giving up, instead of leading me to do something about it. I'd rather give the world notice that: "Hey, I'm leaving but you never really needed me anyway" than to make use of my capabilities. What's my point in sharing this then? Within this smile lays a man on the brink of losing himself, deeper than he has lost himself before. No one really asks others to make them feel relevant. Relevance is a concept of the self. All I've really asked from anyone is conversation. As I've continually said from the old schizophrenia, up to the current Mikecab: I need to know you.

A Farewell to Mikecab

I realized how annoying it is to constantly have to market my work without actually making it obvious that I am marketing my work. I don't write for myself. I'm not a narcissist. I want to share, and people say, "nah... not worth sharing, and not worth my time." I know I'm didactic, but wtf. I just need to know I'm reaching out to someone. If not, it's all pointless. So there. I guess my work is irrelevant. That so, I am irrelevant. I'm going on sabbatical. I'll read a few notations on creative nonfiction just to brush up, so that one day, maybe, I can be relevant. All works in the near future will either be in the realm of pop literature, or past works. Thanks for all those who supported me over the years, and I'm sorry for taking your time.

This is the end of mikecab. Finally, the schizophrenia and it's subsequent evolutions can cease to exist. It's time for me to possibly develop beyond the anonymity of cyber space... If I can stand it long enough.

goodbye mikecab (multiply and plurk) we had some great times.

Four New Messages

At 3:30 PM I checked my phone, and there were 4 new messages.

4 new messages for me is creepy... It's not the usual 1 "what time is your break?" from your friend, or the "when's the submission?" message from your classmate. It isn't the 2 "come home na." "your lola is here." messages from your mom. Its not the combination of both either. It's that random one extra message that gets me all riled up, esp[ecially since this week is a highly critical week. What could the fourth message be? "why aren't you answering me?" a follow up messge from an overly excited friend? "come home na." A repeated message from your mom? Or maybe it's "OMG we're so dead! so dead! Aliens have attacked Manila ang they're gonna kill us all!!!!!!" A bit exagerrated, but the general theme is 4th message = no good. Today was no exception. *sigh*

Sa May Muro

That's what you get when you let your heart win.
Anong napala mo sa pagkairal mo sa damdamin mo?

Whoa.
Hay naku.

"E, kung talunin nalang kaya natin?"
"Gago, and taas kaya niyan."
"Hmm..."
"O, ano na, uwi na tayo! May pasok pa bukas!"
"Sandali lang."
"Oi! Saan ka pupunta? Tangina naman e!"
...
...
...
"Saan ka nanggaling? Ano yan?"
"Pogo stick and tawag dito."
"Ano naman gagawin natin diyan?"
"Tatalon."
"Auti ka ba!?"
"Bakit, takot ka?"
"Sino ba 'di matatakot diyan! Ungas!"
"Wag mo na nga ako murahin, basta sundan mo nalang ako."
...
...
...
"O ano? sumunod ka rin pala e!"
"...Nasa...Nasa labas na tayo?"
"Oo. Ayan o. Ayan yung tinalon nating pader."
"Edi, nasa lob niyan ang siyudad?"
"Malamang."
"Wala na tayo sa loob?"
"E kung sapakin nalang kaya kita."
"Masaya naman ako e... Pero, ano nang gagawin natin ngayong wala na tayo saa loob?"
"Edi... mamahalin kita."
"Wala nang aangal?
"Wala."
"Wala nang taguan?"
"Wala."
"O siya. Mahal na rin kita."


tinginingining yan >.<.

files files

Man-dates: Medjo P.I.

Man-dates. They're like man boobs. (wtf >.<)
Sana hindi makalimutan ni Anjo date namin bukas
Hindi pa siya nagtetext e.

UY! Siyangaps! Napanood ko ang Ateneo Fencing Team kanina! (shout out kay Chan! Naks nakalaro ka na rin!) Congrats sa mga nanalo sa UAAP 71 Fencing Tournament! Galing ninyong lahat! (kahit na di ko talaga maintindihan yung sport na yan T-T) ESPADAHAN NALANG!!!!!

Alam kong nagloloko lang si Joel nung sinabi niya sa akin na sumali ako sa Judo team kasi kulang sila sa mga heavyweight (bigatin ng Katipunan!) pero nung inisip isip ko... yuck. weird ng sout ng judokas... plus isang haplos lang sa tagiliran ko titili na ako ng parang babae. saan ka nakakita ng judokang ganun?

mula sa http://www.fmylife.com:

"Today, while in our communal showers in the highschool football locker room, I started to swing my penis around because it feels good and I was alone. Two minutes later the rest of the team hops into the shower with me. 30 dudes, one self-induced boner. FML."

kawawang bata. Mas nakakatakot pa yung nang makita ng buong team ang kanyang galititi ay nag stay pa sila sa shower na kasama ni gago. Naks edi team= 1 gago= 0 .

Andami kong gagawin. Nagpapakabaliw lang ako ngayon. Toodles!

Dedicate Home (Sharing Observed Poverty) Conclusion for Now

A Personal and Observed Poverty: A Narrative (Conclusion for Now)

The greatest lessons I have learned as an adolescent were learned within the narrow side streets of Malate. I just thought that although this initial experience was a far 7 years ago, somewhere within my experience, someone can decipher the same lessons I had learned, and maybe find some new lessons of their own. I think this community, these people, and the experience of poverty in general, whether experienced or observed, should be made open to the world, so that more and more we can understand the situation that is shared by a majority of the urban population. Find your own conclusions and make your own solutions, but be sure to share. This is our world, not mine, not yours.

Dedicate Home (Sharing Observed Poverty) 5

A Personal and Observed Poverty: A Narrative (Part 5)

For two hours I did nothing but take short naps and stare blankly into the view beyond the door. Beyond the door was a small eskinita, and across that was a small G.I. sheet (yero) structure like the one I was in. I saw slippered feet dash, and market baskets being lugged around. I heard the loud shouts of the men, the incessant chattering of the women, and the playful screams and laughter of the children. The scent of murky water mixed with laundry detergent encompassed the area, and an eerie sort of unnatural humidity filled the air. Sunlight contrary to what most believe, was abundant. Although their homes were compacted together leaving only passage ways serving as pseudo roads; as none of the structures were above two stories, sunlight shone brightly within the area. It was hot, truly, but it was precisely this humidity and distinct smell of detergent that stuck best in my mind. This place was the forge, as it was the wash basin.

It is a dynamic community of hundreds if not thousands of people who were there not by choice, but rather out of the necessity of living. Their poverty is the path they think they must endure. It is the supposed cleansing of their souls so they may one day join their God. That was the paradigm of my students, and it must have been the paradigm of most of the God fearing in the community as well. It is precisely that point that made me realize that Karl Marx was right. Religion, as in the case of Catholicism in area 8, is truly merely an opiate of the people. If they truly believe that God would allow them to be tested by poverty, as a prerequisite to paradise, then we would not have a merciful God, but rather a cruel professor. Weren’t we as individual human beings given the God given gift of rationality and free will? We were given the innate capability to make something of ourselves. We must remember though that our goal is not merely to be the best we can be, but rather that we be the best we can be, for others. The goal was never individual, but rather a collective goal for society in general. We are here to MAKE THE WORLD A BETTER PLACE, but again, in the eyes of my students, they are nothing more than society’s outcasts that the world deigns to let survive. Their dignity is shattered. Once you think of yourself less than your constituents, then your capability suffers, and your being becomes greatly disordered.

Dedicate Home (Sharing Observed Poverty) 4

A Personal and Observed Poverty: A Narrative (Part 4)

I had arrived early one day for class. I was 3 hours early to be exact, and the reason I was early was because I was sick, and if I had stayed longer in my home, my parents would have discovered my illness, and would have thus stopped me from teaching the days' class. I was a persistent kid. I stood in front of the center, and discovered it was locked. It was 11 in the morning, and the heat did nothing for my fever. I felt dizzy and decided to sit beside the center's door under the center's shade. Stereotypical members of the urban poor community passed me by and asked if I was okay. I would nod my response, but they would indomitably query further on my condition, asking if I was really okay. After a few minutes, the day care worker I taught with arrived in a hurry. She said that one of those who had queried me earlier had told her that I was dizzy and obviously sick, waiting by the center's door. She then took me into the depths of the community, a trip that I would re-tread over and over again since that initial time. She took me to her home, a 2x2 meter space of corrugated G.I. sheets with a piece of plywood stuck at the back wall creating a pseudo double decker bed. All that was within the space was a table, a few cushions, a small kalan (gas stove) and a cabinet. She apologized for her home, and asked if I would like to rest first. She directed me to the bottom "bunk" of the makeshift bed, which was layered with a thin cushion and torn sheets. From my position you could see out the door. My fever raged on. In my experience, fevers have always heightened my senses. The reason I found for that phenomenon was that it was only during times of sickness that I bother to lie down and simply experience the multiple sensations opened to me. Lying in a sick bed, there is nothing to take into account but your body, and what it feels. Thus, in sickness, I am open to feel. I am open to see, to smell, to taste, (whatever taste is left) and to hear. We take sensation for granted. It's as if the world is for us to grasp, but we forget that in reality, it is the world that grasps us.

Dedicate Home (Sharing Observed Poverty) 3

A Personal and Observed Poverty: A Narrative (Part 3)

The only real problem I had with the whole teaching encounter was the lack of funds. Lesson plans, lesson guides, and evaluation forms supposedly given daily were delayed week after week because the parish program didn't have enough resources to reproduce the documents. Finally we volunteers decided to reproduce the documents out of our own pockets, just to ensure the proper working of the program. It was a small price to pay in any case. Another problem was that some children would go to class without taking lunch, because of one reason or another. It's an odd thing, seeing hungry children; some cry, some sit at the corner and say not a word, some try satiating themselves by sucking the dirt from their fingers, and others blatantly ask if I have food. It was at times like these that the seeds of Liberation Theology began to sprout in me. I talked about a loving God who provided for his people, and when asked how God provides for his people, all my students could say was that they were protected by their parents, and that they had friends. Maybe the reason why the urban poor's paradigm is so very social is precisely because there is a definite lack, and all you can turn to in times of need are people close to you, and a God who seemingly never answers your prayers. As one of my students once said, "Mahal tayo ng Diyos KAHIT NA HINDI TAYO MAYAMAN (God loves us even though we are poor). Binigyan niya tayo ng mga nagmamahal sa atin, mga kadamay sa mundo (He gave us people who love us, and people who share our situation)." It's a shame that he thinks God loves them DESPITE their poverty. In the eyes of my students, the eyes of innocents, poverty is disordered. Their condition is disordered. It is not a natural condition. It is supposed to be the other condition, not THE condition. If these children can see it, why can't we? Saying that God loves us no matter our social standing would only serve to confuse them. How can a God who loves us equally allow inequality to exist? Even if inequality is man's invention, how could he allow man to create such harsh conditions for his neighbor? As for the children's hunger of that moment, what else could I do but buy simple snacks or bring crackers and tea (yes, tea. I was a weird kid.) The kids especially loved those 10 peso packs of spicy Oishi. 3 or 4 of the kids would share a pack and walk happily home after class.

Dedicate Home (Sharing Observed Poverty) 2

A Personal and Observed Poverty: A Narrative (Part 2)

I taught catechism to young children of ages of 7-12. My post was the communities' city run day care center, which was basically a room on the ground floor of a 2 storey concrete structure. The room was small. It was about six square meters, and had 2 windows and a door. One window was facing Adriatico, and the other window, along with the door, was facing the fronting unnamed eskinita. The educational tools available were merely a table, a stack of chairs, and a bookshelf filled with books much too complicated for children of such a young age to understand, and thus for the most part, they were left unused. As an example: The first copy of Leo Tolstoy's War and Peace that I had read was from said bookshelf. It's ironic really, the day care worker who was assigned to assist me said to me that the books were donations from the city government. If the government expects day care students to read Tolstoy and Austen, then they have no idea about the current educational system. The classes I taught were from 2 to 4. 20 kids per class, 2 classes a day. It was easy to motivate the kids, and I had no problems with attendance. They all came day after day for the 3 weeks we were supposed to be together. If anything, what made me return there daily (sans a few absences on my part) was the expression on the children's faces after a heartwarming lesson. The senior instructors had warned me that teaching the younger batch would be difficult, but I didn't mind the awkward questions (nagdudugo pa ba si Jesus?) and the indiscriminate quarrel between classmates now and again. They were children, and it was precisely this fact that made teaching Catechism all the more easy. These children believed in what I taught, and were ready to accept the willful behavior dictated by adopting the Catholic faith. It may seem shallow, but a single "magagalit si Jesus" would be enough to tear quarrelers apart. This simple naiveté, a simplistic fear of God is precisely what in that moment would bring them to heaven versus me to purgatory.

I taught catechism to young children of ages of 7-12. My post was the communities' city run day care center, which was basically a room on the ground floor of a 2 storey concrete structure. The room was small. It was about six square meters, and had 2 windows and a door. One window was facing Adriatico, and the other window, along with the door, was facing the fronting unnamed eskinita. The educational tools available were merely a table, a stack of chairs, and a bookshelf filled with books much too complicated for children of such a young age to understand, and thus for the most part, they were left unused. As an example: The first copy of Leo Tolstoy's War and Peace that I had read was from said bookshelf. It's ironic really, the day care worker who was assigned to assist me said to me that the books were donations from the city government. If the government expects day care students to read Tolstoy and Austen, then they have no idea about the current educational system.

The classes I taught were from 2 to 4. 20 kids per class, 2 classes a day. It was easy to motivate the kids, and I had no problems with attendance. They all came day after day for the 3 weeks we were supposed to be together. If anything, what made me return there daily (sans a few absences on my part) was the expression on the children's faces after a heartwarming lesson. The senior instructors had warned me that teaching the younger batch would be difficult, but I didn't mind the awkward questions (nagdudugo pa ba si Jesus?) and the indiscriminate quarrel between classmates now and again. They were children, and it was precisely this fact that made teaching Catechism all the more easy. These children believed in what I taught, and were ready to accept the willful behavior dictated by adopting the Catholic faith. It may seem shallow, but a single "magagalit si Jesus" would be enough to tear quarrelers apart. This simple naiveté, a simplistic fear of God is precisely what in that moment would bring them to heaven versus me to purgatory.

A Horse and His Boy

I just had the oddest day today... I'd like to thank my fellow Psychistas Fran, Erika and Patrick for a truly awkward day. Depravity when taken in discourse becomes hobby. While at the smocket, Fran Erika and I talked about all sorts of depravities. Gossip, priestly pedophiles, child molestation and rape, teacher student relations, (and of course the psychological basis and psycho-social effects of said events on the human psyche.)

Then we started talking about "2 girls 1 cup." OMG. WTH.
Then we started talking about "Mr. Hands." OMG. WTF.

Then out of curiosity, we watched the videos. On campus. >:)
It was the weirdest day of my life. We walked around campus looking for a secluded spot to watch the videos. >.< I swear... we never did anything like this in DLSU... it's just like highschool.

Those videos changed my life forever.
THAT was depraved.
Of course it was all taken in a discursive sense. We analyzed it all, but still... WTF!?!?!?!


Watch this. There are lots of these on Youtube. These are initial reactions to watching Mr. Hands... Mr. Hands died after his little stunt... he ruptured his colon. There was something seriously wrong with that man, and all we can do is treat him like entertainment... There's something wrong with that.

The Dead on Rainy Days

It's raining... on the hill... rain... hill... rain... hill... water flows down the steeps and slides of grass and sandy sides. They drain into the barred pits that lead to lower chambers. There, the water bids them wake. The corpses flood out from the earth's belly onto the brick layered path on the hill. Victims of the canine's bite. Floating bodies that seek to share their undead fate. We of the hill hide in fear. The dead do come on rainy days.

Stephen King on Stephanie Meyer

Stephen King:
"Both Rowling and Meyer, they're speaking directly to young people... The real difference is that Jo Rowling is a terrific writer and Stephenie Meyer can't write worth a darn. She's not very good."

=) I love Stephen King.

The *maniacal laughter* Senate

This will be unbased and useless. (Just like the institution this wishes to critique.)

Philstar Headline:
SENATORS WANT HEADS TO ROLL AT SEC

The Headline in My Head:
PEOPLE NEED SENATORS' HEADS TO ROLL

Wanted: Thesis Topic

I'll run this by you guys 'coz you guys have finished your thesis... Would these be considered okay theses?

a. Behavioral Sink in Urban Poor Settlements
b. Behavioral Sink in Philippine Prisons
Those are our Social Psych bets... we're still thinking of Cognitive Psych bets, Developmental Psych bets, and maybe even a Field Experiment on working conditions in white collar companies... I'm just looking for advice.

My Bloodtest Results

I know this is a private matter, but I can't help but share this lesson with all of you... That's what I get... my habits regarding sweets and fatty foods... *sigh*... the lesson to learn from all of this is:
1. don't eat too much sweets
2. drink coke light
3. eat lots of fruits
4. LOVE tofu

and that's precisely what I do. My blood sugar is normal. (WOHOO!!!!) 79 (which is low-normal).
My Cholesterol is normal.
My LDL is normal.
My HDL is normal.

basically, my blood is cool... or is it...

my Uric acid is 150% of normal.
Oops. I guess we scratch the LOVE tofu part...
I CAN'T EAT TOFU ANYMOOOOOORRREEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!

The Indies and Drawn Blood

Nope. This is definitely not a colonial themed post.

My friends smoke packs of cigarettes and consume indiscriminate amounts of alcohol. I watch too many movies. Independent films are my vice.
I have watched practically all the independent films shown to date in Robinson's, and many times have travelled to UP for a screening of this or that movie. It all seems to be about the same things. Sex. Poverty. Opression. Our country really has to find something more developed to showcase in film. Anyway, it's a nice hobby, but then I dreamt that I was in Shortbus.

Shortbus (check the 3rd definition)

Then I had the dream again.
and again.
and again.

No more indies for me.

I visited the integrated clinics inside the campus a while ago. I had my blood checked (out of selfconcern). Full blood workup. RBC, WBC, glucose, uric acid, cholesterol, creatinine... the works. I brought 1.5K... and it wasn't enough. 2.6K amp. *cries* anyway.. I can pay in installment naman... My blood was brown O.o is that bad?? I get my results later *cries*.

To: The Offices of Operational Affairs, Michael's Motor and Association Cortices, Michael's Body, Manila, Philippines; The Office of Memory, Michael's Hippocampus, Michael's Body, Manila, Philippines

From: The Central Fight-Flight-Freeze Office, and the Decision Making Office, Prefrontal Cortex, Michael's Body, Manila, Philippines

Please be informed that due to the success of November 2007's body restructuring project entitled "Pesci-Vegetarianism" in both the operational function of the office of willpower, and the cleansing of renal and adipose tissues, the decision making office has decided to reinstate the November 2007 order. Reissued are orders to the Memory Office in the Hippocampus to keep the diet in constant remembrance, as well as reissued orders to the Association Cortices to label all foods not belonging to the diet preliminary to be labelled as "bad." Lipoprivic hunger is to be denied compliance, and the only intake suitably taken into the digestive system is as follows:

Vegetables

Fish

Rice

-end-

Thank you for continuing to let Michael live. This new dietary change is only on a final trial basis from February 1st to March 31st 2009.. Possible continuation may follow depending on the sucess of the said dietary change. Let us hope for lowered cholesterol and sustainable weight loss.

Jurjurethics 3: Glory Holes and Anarchy

Glory Hole - From Urban Dictionary

I took a piss is the SocSci foyer CRs this morning. The urinals were both occupied, so I opted to use a stall. Inside the stall, there were two new drawings on the cubicle wall: that of an illegibly written name, and a sort of simple yet shocking illustration that looks something like this...
The link above from Urban Dictionary will tell you what a Glory Hole is. Anyway... as a point of discussion, the Glory Hole is a concept in gay pornographic pop culture. It's display, by a student no less, in the Ateneo brings to mind certain questions, or maybe even answers regarding the social workings of the middle class. It brings about that sense of need to see what is in the other cubicle. A sense of wanting either pleasure or a point of comparison. It shows a need to view. A sort of voyeuristic itch. Maybe even not so needy or sexual a connotation. The glory hole embodies the idea of a wall-less society where even the most private of matters are left for the public sphere. It is only malicious because it was deemed so. It demands sexual transparency, a need to eradicate the privacies of instilled shame. The glory hole is not merely a physical device, but rather a theoretical break into the high hidden walls of sexuality. In truth, the best way to address sexuality is to discourse on it. We merely wish to understand what we are able to understand. The Glory Hole, seen as a point of deviance is really a symptom; the wailing of the psyche, a sickness of lack. This is lack of understanding of the sexual matters and the social structures that surround it.

THAT Orgasmic Song

I've been looking for this piece for YEARS (since 3rd year High School, we used this in the cheering competition) I found it! LUX AETERNA. What a befitting name. Eternal Light. Try it out... One of the only things in this world I would define as Orgasmic. Especially from 3:25 to the end... OMG... I swear... I want this to play as I die.

The Politically Incorrect Post (Please Don't Kill Me)

Warning: this will be offensive on MANY levels. I apologize in advance. I write this in satire. I do not mean any of this. I was dared to write this. I have to write like a stereotypical vulgar pompous Atenean for once. This hurts me more than it will hurt anyone else. Please don't kill me.

I'm sure most of you have seen an interracial couple strolling around in your favorite social hideaway. In a globalized world, culture mixes with culture, creating human diversity. That is why we have to thank the Japanese and the Brazilians for coming together and creating the perfect people. It's too bad we have to import Braps here in the Philippines, but as was said earlier, we have interracial couples here too.

There's the Dwarves and Elves type: The aesthetically hot caucasian male, 6 feet tall, burly, with the most beautiful eyes you have ever seen, and with him is the 5 foot pinay who almost always looks like your maid, except your maid doesn't have a 2 inch mole sticking out the side of her nose. As you pass them by, your female friends look at each other and say, "What the?! Pick me instead! I'll wash your clothes! I'll be your bed wife!"

There's the Druid and Dryad type: The 65 year old caucasian male with an aesthetically hot 20 year old Filipina who's too poor to afford clothes to cover more than 50% her body. She's basically wearing a scarf coiled around her torso in weird ways.

There's the Old Goats type: 60 year old caucasian male with a 55 year old Filipina who has denied her Filipina-hood by donning classic western day wear, speaking in her husband's accent, and carrying a small furry animal named "Babushka." Her eyebrows have been shaved off and have been replaced by perma-taray brows, and she wears one too many pieces of jewelry. Sometimes she wears animal print blouses. Oh, and her expression is as if her husband's penis is constantly up her ass.

There's The Kalabaw Kurry type: 45 year old middle eastern or south asian male with 20 year old Filipina. It's like they never stop talking. Where did you meet her? Wait... isn't she the girl who used to be saleslady at your tiangge store in Harrison Plaza?

There's the Vanilla Bean in Hot Chocolate: 40 year old 6 foot tall homosexual caucasian male, partly balding, with 5'2" Filipino life partner wrapped within his left arm. The Filipino partner reminds you of your openly gay classmate from high school who supposedly gave blowjobs to horny or discreet men in the 3rd floor laboratory bathroom. The caucasian partner would be the single male math teacher everyone hates that supposedly got a blowjob from said classmate.

Speaking of Vanilla Beans in Hot Chocolate, I had the distinct pleasure of riding with a said couple in a jeep from Katipunan to Cubao. We passed by a sign that said "Fighting Cocks for Sale." The caucasian man turned to his Filipino partner and asked, "Hon, what's fighting cock in tagalog?" The Filipino partner turned to his caucasian partner, batted his eyelashes and said, "Galit na titi. Hihihihihi (pa demure amp) joke honey!" Then Filipino man caressess caucasian's arm, then cuddles.

Resume

RESUME!!!!!!!!

Med Specialty Aptitude Test (A Kiddy Pre Med View)

Here are my results for the med specialty aptitude test, from the University of Virginia Health System website.
I will do as Sanny did. In bold are my preferences.

Pediatrics does seem the perfect choice. I like kids (although kids are afraid of me) and I like dealing with parents. Oncology is my emo choice. I would choose this for the finality and strong sense of mortality, vis-a-vis the slight sliver of hope. I like dealing with people. I like patients. I like being a part of their lives. That's probably why radiation oncology's there as well. Psychiatry I'm unsure of as I may lack the objectivism and skill of distancing myself from patients. I guess if ever I go through with med, It'll be for the stories I can gather, whether hopeful, dire, impossible, or simple. I like shaping people's stories. I'm not in med YET, but hopefully my ideas and beliefs don't change.

Rank	Specialty	Score
1	pediatrics	45
2	med oncology	44
3	hematology	43
4	radiation oncology	43
5	rheumatology	42
6	general internal med	42
7	dermatology	42
8	physical med & rehabilitation	42
9	obstetrics/gynecology	42
10	occupational med	42
11	family practice	41
12	emergency med	41
13	endocrinology	40
14	colon & rectal surgery	40
15	anesthesiology	40
16	orthopaedic surgery	40
17	ophthalmology	40
18	plastic surgery	39
19	psychiatry	39
20	pulmonology	39
21	otolaryngology	39
22	gastroenterology	39
23	infectious disease	38
24	nephrology	38
25	cardiology	38
26	urology	38
27	general surgery	38
28	radiology	38
29	pathology	38
30	nuclear med	38
31	allergy & immunology	37
32	neurosurgery	37
33	preventive med	36
34	aerospace med	35
35	neurology	35
36	thoracic surgery	34