Saturday, November 28, 2009

After a Week of Your Silence...


I guess we won’t be able to found out how LRT 1 and MRT would look like when the construction is finished.

I guess we won’t get to Wensha like we planned--- or that overnight stay in Baguio.

I guess I’ll be watching 2012 on my own. I definitely won’t reach that year with you.

I guess we won’t have an anniversary.

I guess you won’t be receiving this gift I bought for your birthday.

I guess I won’t be going to groceries and appliance stores with you.

I guess I won’t get to taste the food you proudly say that you cook so well.

I guess you’ve moved on way ahead of me.

I guess you’re still unemployed--- and have an ample amount of time to meet other men.

I guess we’ll never really have sex, at all.

I guess, for an indefinite time, my heart will skip a beat everytime I smell the scent of your perfume worn by other people.

I guess I wouldn’t be able to cuddle with you in the dark corners of the movie house.

I guess I won’t be secretly hiding our holding hands in between our laps when we ride the bus.

I guess we won’t be living together and that I won’t be your husband anymore.

I guess you aren’t the one--- well, I guess I’ve realized that long ago.

I’m SINGLE again. That’s the best way to describe my relationship status after you not texting me for a week.

Thank God I’m apathetic.

Anyway, Gerber, wherever you are, uhmm… I don’t know what else to say to you.

Darn it for loving you.





Thursday, October 29, 2009

Compulson in the Sauna



I know exactly what some boys do in the sauna. The sad thing is they just let the juices of their hasty moments of glory anywhere they like. No one wants these secretions near anyone else’s body now that STD’s are going round and about. So I:

1. Alcoholize locker keys.

2. Choose shower cubicles proximate to the locker room because they are the least chosen ones by those who would want to do something prohibited in public.

3. Check the floors and the walls for any emitted secretions.

4. Use the free liquid soap to clean the shower lever, shower head and soap dispensers. You can never be sure what sticks on the hand of the one who last used it.

5. Leave my towel on the cubicle walls so as not to mess it up. You don’t want it catching anything that you would rub onto your body later. That means I walk to the sauna room in my boxers, which gets a few sets of eyes looking at me longer than necessary. I don’t mind. Those are ego points.

6. Cover open wounds (even healing and closed ones) with band aid. Most STD’s are blood borne including HIV.

7. Never touch handles. Open doors through their flaps.

8. Put soap in the hands before opening the sauna door. Just to be sure. This means that while I’m inside the sauna, my hands are bubbling with soap. Some people inside would shoot me perplexed looks while I continuously lather up my palms. If only they knew…

9. Never sit down or lean on to anything inside. You don’t know what people did inside before you came in.

10. Never wipe any part of my body, especially my face, with my hands.

11. Never accidentally drink water from the steam or the shower.

12. Run for dear life when I sense people around me doing IT. It’s easy to tell. It’s funny seeing people trying to hide their erections when they get caught by some clueless member.

Yes, I can get a little bit Obsessive Compulsive to a little bit Paranoid. But hey, like they say, it’s better to be safe, than sorry…



Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Conflict Reaction Web


I am never confrontational. So, if I see something wrong or someone irritating, I disclose my hurts to a close friend.

That’s not backstabbing. It’s just a safer catharsis.

The semester is almost ending and the faculty burdened by checking test papers and making grades. We had to finish a particular requirement of almost two hundred (200) students, and results need to be rushed for the deliberation.

The original plan was to divide it among all members of the faculty in our level to hasten speedy checking. However, I wondered why only three from the supposed ten were checking. I went to the faculty room to check where the others are, and to my surprise I saw Gabert, a senior male faculty, doodling something on his Facebook account.

Since, I wasn’t confrontational I just went back to the checking room and shared it with my ‘friends.’ It was really insensitive and irresponsible for Gabert to be playing Farmville and DOTA while his colleagues are enslaving their asses with mountains of paperwork. And my ‘friends’ shared this sentiment with me.

The Monday after that, while I was talking to my immediate boss in the office, Gabert came to me. He glared at me and pointed a folder to my face, “Ikaw Senseijery, ha? May narinig akong nagrereklamo ka na hindi ako nagtatrabaho,” he said as if challenging, “bago mo tingnan ‘yung pag-check ko, tingnan niyo muna ang ginawa ko buong semester, ha?” Then he walked out of the office with all eyes following his fading image.

There I was silenced and dumbfounded. His voice was loud and strong for the secretaries, my coordinators, some other teachers and even visitors to hear his outburst.

We never talked after that, nor do I even want to. I was guilty but I was too soft to admit that. He was a senior--- a hard-headed, complain-laden, confrontational senior teacher who holds no bars with the juniors when dealing with them.

But here are three things that I’ve learned:

Most of us have complaints about our coworkers. We are free to say them. But sometimes, you know exactly what to keep to yourself to get out of trouble.

Secondly, I should start learning filtering out friends from ‘friends.’ You get the idea.

Lastly, I wondered. He never has done that to anyone else before. Maybe when he was planning to confront me, he already foresaw the flabbergasted state that I would be in after his speech. And since he knew I was the type of person who wouldn’t budge, he went out and did that embarrassing thing anyway.

And probably that is how the world works, and I call it the Conflict Reaction Web.

When you do your fights, (individual fights in particular), you take consideration of the enemy to determine what kind of fight you’re going to start. You evaluate their personality and political status before to react to the arising conflict.

Probably, if it weren’t Gabert, and it was someone of my junior or has a more allowing personality, then maybe I could have pointed it out blank straight to the person.

Probably, if it weren’t me, and it was some drug addict loitering along dark alleys, or the president of the institution, then maybe Gabert could have chosen to hold his piece to himself instead.

I therefore conclude that, “Pick Someone Your Own Size,” is bullshit.

The problem is, I am always at the bottom of the web, eaten by decomposers and ravaged by scavengers.


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Mali ba talaga ako? Haha. Ano ba dapat gawin?

-wind_psycho




Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Wake Me Up When September Ends



We chose not to live this relationship in drama and I abided. We never spoke about serious things about us, because maybe we were too afraid of the consequences.

Someone told me this: in a couple, one party will always be in deeper love for the other. The sad thing is, I am the one who fell on that end.

For so many times, I pondered to free you. But what good would that do and what change would it make, when we obviously do things as if we weren’t really committed?

And then I remembered how you loosened my chains indirectly. I was the only one who reattached them to you. Maybe I’m the only one who’s stubborn here.

I dare not be loved for a week.

So, I’ve decided, to start falling out of love for you. I don’t know how, but it sure is complicated and as hurtful as I started to accept that you aren’t the forever I am looking for. Nor the person I would see myself with when human race goes extinct in 2012

Tomorrow, is October 2009. I’ll be looking for a new “job”. And I’ll resign when I get one that appreciates who I am better.



Friday, September 25, 2009

I am a Box Named 'Fragile'


Fragile is written all over me
Shy and breakable
Outwardly vulnerable

I said I’m a fragile box
But the more I say how weak I am
The more that the carriers hold me
Carelessly

The glasses inside me
Broken as they shake me
Bring me closer to their ears
Just to check if my pieces
Will create a sound

Fragile is written all over me
Yet they don’t take it seriously
They drop me off high
And I land on concrete

When you take me
And open me
You’ll find I’m broken
And that’s the only time
When you realize

I’m fragile as the box told you



Friday, September 11, 2009

Four Fast Forward


By 2012, I’ll be twenty six.

By 2012, I’ll probably look better than now.

By 2012, I’m not sure if I’m still going to be a Sensei.

By 2012, I’ll be in a better job.

By 2012, I’ll earn more.

By 2012, I should have had a written a song sung by some celebrity singer.

By 2012, I don’t know if I’m still going to be in the Eastern hemisphere.

By 2012, I should have had a son, named Rundell.

By 2012, I still would be depressed, stressed and slightly bipolar.

By 2012, I’m short from finishing my PhD.

By 2012, I am writing a secret sex-related blog because I’ve shut down this blog by 2010.

By 2012, that blog will have tons of followers.

By 2012, I will actually be read.

By 2012, I will have published a book.

By 2012, that book should have been a bestseller.

By 2012, I would have appeared on TV.

By 2012, I will be a mentalist.

By 2012, my students now would have only just graduated.

By 2012, I don’t have a clear vision of my muse.

By 2012, my family will still have the same peculiar problems.

By 2012, my friends will be physically distant yet closely kept.

By 2012, I will still be psychosexually dysfunctional.

By 2012, time will still be a limited commodity for me.

By 2012, I still would not have a definition of the world around me.

By 2012, I don’t have any plans of saving myself from any havoc.

By 2012, solar flares will be destroying the earth and I’ll be in the gym, working out.



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The 11th to 13th lines are only half meant. But who knows really?

-wind-psycho




Saturday, September 5, 2009

December 21, 2012




…is the end of the world.

This past week I’ve had this obsessive compulsion to look at youtube videos and web articles about this freakish date. Everything I read about (historical, astronomical, scientific, meteorological, biblical, mythical) this date ALL MAKES SENSE TO ME.

I’m so darn scared yet I’m still hooked. It all started when I watched the trailers for the movies “2012,” and “Seeking Closure.” Then related videos regarding Planet X and Polar Changes started springing up.

During the first night I could sleep. I remember Incubus’ music video, “Warning,” and the clock in that kept stopping at the digits of that date.

Well, the first theory of doomsday is that Planet X, or Nibiru, will come closer to the solar system on that said year and will cause the sun to have a disrupted activity like coronal radiations and solar flares (like the one in “Knowing”).

The second theory was that during that time, the sun, the earth and the black hole in the middle of Milky Way will be aligned and may cause a polar shift on earth that may bring about sudden change of tides, earthquakes and loss of continents. It may also cause weather and climate changes (which excited me a bit. Winter in the Philippines?)

But both theories suggest that during this time of global catalycism, there will be mass extinction of species. Humans very much included.

The Mayan Calendar and Chinese and Biblical prophets have warned us about this day of apocalypse, or winter solstice.

And the governments do know about this impending catastrophe, and is working on black projects in order to conserve some (not all) of our species. Actually they use these movies like “deep Impact,” “Armageddon,” “Starwars,” “E.T.,” and “2012,” to desentisize us from these impending disastrous events. Other details regarding their plans that came to me are way too specific to be false.


Or hopefully this is just another hoax. Or a scam that people use for financial gains.

If not, then I am preparing. But what to do first?

(Thinking… Thinking… Dozes off…)


Monday, August 31, 2009

A Post Mortem Story


Cold mist blew against Juan’s ears and filled his senses. He looked around him and saw a seemingly endless hallway, surrounded with white walls, with open doors a meter apart from each other. The tiled floor felt cold against his bare feet.

He started walking a few inches from where he started and then he heard it: the resounding voices of his parents crying from the door beside him. He decided to enter.

There he saw his mother and father, crying over a body lying lifeless on a hospital bed. With them is a female nurse silently praying beside them. Her dress sleek white, hair placed under a cap.

Juan looked at his parents and figured that they looked much older than he last saw them. Then he tried peering at the body, but could not recognize who it was. He wanted to step closer to embrace his grieving parents, but his body remained flinched and contented watching from afar.

After praying, he saw the nurse took a pillow and placed it under the corpse’s head. Then he remembered all the times he used his head to think of evil things: greed, jealousy, revenge, pain, sadness, lust, prejudice, hate.

The nurse leaned over to close the dead man’s eyes. Juan instinctively touched his own eyes and thought of the moments when he used his sense of sight in bad light: cheating in his exam, looking perversely at attractive women, seeing criminals doing evil in front of him yet he did nothing.

Then nurse started taking out the watch and jewelries worn by the deceased and handed it to the sobbing parents. Juan recognized the ring that the nurse took out last: it was his college ring. Juan then remembered how much time he spent on material things, how he preferred to work for more money than spend time with his family or go to church.

The tube placed inside the body’s mouth was carefully pulled out by the nurse, and later on was discarded in a yellow bag. Juan looked closely at the tube that was once connected to the body, and reminisced all the connections he had lost in his lifetime. How his uncaring attitude scared off the people who loved him dearly.

He then saw the nurse got a small towel from the bedside and placed it under the corpse’s chin to close its mouth. Juan recalled the times when he used his own mouth to hurt people with the words he would tell them; and the times where gluttony got the best of him not realizing that a lot of people in this world is hungry for food.

The nurse then took another towel and tenderly gave a quick bed bath, eyeing carefully on the soiled areas of the body. Juan remembered all the vices he had: alcohol, cigarettes, drugs and sexual promiscuousness. He knew these practices would take a toll on his body that he considered God’s temple, yet he let the bad habits take over him.

Using cotton balls, the nurse gently covered the dead body’s ears. Juan remembered how he always failed to listen to people--- how he would close his mind to his friends and relatives’ advices for his betterment. All he heard was the voice of pleasure and earthly desires that continually flickered and defeated the remaining spark of his good light.

She then used disposable pads to take off the feces from the corpse’s buttocks, which reminded Juan how poorly he dealt with reconciling his sins. He left the people around him with so much emotional mess that he always failed to clean up by asking for forgiveness.

Aside from the identification bracelet worn at the wrist of the dead man, the nurse placed another name tag on the right ankle. From where he was, Juan was able to read what was written on it: “Juan dela Cruz.” It made him ask himself, “How will my name be remembered by the people I shared my life with?” He wondered how his memory will be celebrated--- or loathed.

The nurse then made the bed occupied by the deceased by changing linens and gave a chance for his parents to view the body. Both of them were crying hardly as the nurse cared for the body.

Even Juan was surprised for he never saw his father shed tears in his lifetime. His Dad used to be an unbreakable, strict man which Juan rebelled against because he wanted freedom from his persevering guidance. The father was repeatedly saying, “Sorry, Anak…” as he held the deceased’s arm tightly.

And it was not the first time for Juan to see his mother crying. She cried when he went home with bruises because of school gang riots. She cried when she found out that he had to repeat his second year in high school--- twice. She cried every time his father would hit him for every shortcoming he did as a child. He thought his death will free her from the stress he gave her. He felt his parent’s pain--- far deeper than he ever felt before.

His mother was holding a rosary against the body. Juan tried to count the times when he prayed and just remained silent to hear God talking to him. He realized the time he spent for prayer was too far less from being enough.

A tear escaped from Juan’s eye. He wiped it with his hand and saw it glistening in his fingers. He saw hope.

After a few minutes, the nurse came back. She wrapped the corpse with the linens. Then Juan realized what he needed in life. He needed a sense of security, like the sense of comfort he received everytime he would tuck himself in the blankets in his bedroom when he felt alone. And he knew now where to find it.

Suddenly, the scene blurred and faded in complete sheer darkness.

Juan opened his eyes and found out he was still very alive. He was sitting on a chair while in front of a computer. Blood was splattered all over the keyboard in front of him. The light from the desktop monitor was glaring at his newly awoken state. A knife felt cold against his feet. It was a dream.

He took two pillow cases from his bed beside him and tied it tightly on his bleeding wrists.


He sat up straight, took the mouse and clicked on Microsoft Word and started typing on the keyboard:

“A Post Mortem Story”


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PS.

wind_psycho: I am NOT suicidal--- and definitely NOT emo.

Thursday, August 27, 2009

Kwekquation 5: Am I Text Clingy?




Successful and lasting romantic relationships are honed by a balance of communication and distance. Through time we have heard break ups because one person in the relationship demands more time than necessary. Even love psychologists say that some space apart between lovers is healthy so that each individual in that bond would grow singly and doubly. Being too clingy to your partner might actually cause you to fall apart because of the thing we call, “romantic asphyxiation.”

Kwek-Kwek Kwekquation #5
AM I TEXT-CLINGY?

In this contemporary era, clinginess is a behavior we may assess through the way we utilize the common cellphone text messaging medium in connecting with our partners. I realized this a few months ago, because I’ve had text-clingy tendencies with my muse before. Now, I guess I’ve controlled that habit that makes me doubly frustrated.

Well… How about you?

Here’s the solution:




Where:

N: NATURE OF TEXT MESSAGES
In a scale of 1 to 10, how emergent and necessary are the majority of your text messages? (1 being, “nku bhe, tgal mgrply, 2 mins n q pnghhntay, anu na lab mu b q?” and 10 being, “love, sori ngabmbala kta. Nkidnap ako ng abu sayaf!”

for N1, rate yourself;
for N2, rate your partner.

F1: FREQUENCY OF YOUR TEXT MESSAGE
In your approximation, what is the average number of text messages you send to your partner in a day?

F2: FREQUENCY OF YOUR PARTNER’S TEXT MESSAGE
In your approximation, what is the average number of text messages you partner sends to you in a day?

B: AMOUNT OF TIME BUSY
In a scale of 1 to 10, how busy are you in a normal day? (1 being, “Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz….” and 10 being, “I work 25 hours a day, and too busy to even answer this simple equation.”)

for B1, rate yourself;
for B2, rate your partner.


SCORES:
The median value is 1. So, if you scored proximate to this value then you balance your time well with your partner, and not in any way asphyxiates nor leave him/her dangling freely.

If your scored way higher, then may be you are text-clingy as evidenced by too many unnecessary messages sent when you know for a fact that both of you might be very busy with your usual lives. Be content with the time your partner gives you though it is still not ample enough for you, as long as it is spent with significance.

If you scored way lower, it can only mean two things: (1) your partner is the one who is text clingy as evidenced by a deficit in your number of text messages compared to him/her, and you’re the victim of the asphyxiation, or; (2) you only send messages to your partner during dire need. You know, sometimes sweet nothings sent in moderation can really help brighten a day in your sweetheart’s life.





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Saturday, August 8, 2009

Tangentiality of Thoughts

One. During these days, money matter. When I borrowed a pen from a student and accidentally broke it, I promised to replace it. When I asked another student how a G-TEC costs, I was surprised to know that it was priced over sixty pesos.If I was a student with extremely rich parents which this pupil obviously had, would I really spend that much for a lousy ballpen?

Why can’t all goods be like fishballs that has remained fifty centavos since my birth?

Two. I’m pissed at people doubting my abilities just because I’m: (1) young; (2) inexperienced; (3) seemingly way too happy with my life. Just today, I heard feedbacks on these people questioning the Dean gave me a chance to teach advanced subjects for the course. Well, that’s another case of seniority complex and age related ethnocentrism.

The Dean defended me in the faculty meeting by saying she’d rather give tasks to those who can deliver--- really deliver.

Three. The weather lately has been so erratic. I just wonder how preschool teachers nowadays teach their students about weather--- the simple sunny, cloudy, rainy and windy day. I could hear the teacher saying,”Hey kids, today is a sunny day!” Then a pupil would raise his hand and retort, “Hallur, rainy day kaya kanina sa’min!”

As early as post-toddlerhood, adults should be able to instill to them the concept of global warming.

Four. Love’s path and career path in our lives do not coincide, nor do they have the same loops, humps, zigzags and dead ends. The transition phase of love is not similar to job hunting, that before you terminate your current job, you should make sure that you have found a secure employment to get into after resigning.

Closure of an old love is needed for a new one to begin.

Five. I realize that my only kababatas are my cousins. It’s how funny how we argued from toys to school work, talked about from video games to our work status. Some of us are married, had kids. I finished fifth in our batch in college and became an instructor. One works for an international company. Others are team leaders in call centers. Others just grew vertically and shrunk horizontally. All of us are aging with grace.

I’m happy with my generation. We made our elders proud.

Six. My young age is usually kept from the class’ knowledge for security. A student, who professed she had a slight fondness over me went to me and told me, “I’ve searched you in google sir. You’re twenty two.

Just how do you free yourself from cyberstalking?

Seven. I just realized that sixty percent of what we say about us is not true. Seventy percent of the faults we see in other people are the same unacceptable traits that we have.

At least I know, at the end of the day, I can readily admit I’m wrong if I feel I am. And I may just be wrong with the figures I've given.

Eight. I...

Nine. Am...

Ten. Tired....