Sunday, April 6, 2008

When Fangirls (and Fanboys) Attack!!! (Ver. 1.0)

Yes, the title says it all... And yes, it does warrant the three exclamation points. So, anyway, when Bessi



invited Prima and I...



to a "gathering" of some sort on April 6 at Megatrade Hall 2 of SM Megamall, we said that we'd be glad to accompany her. It was an anime convention of some sort.

We were supposed to meet at 9 am at the MRT station but Prima was a bit delayed, Bessi was not at all pleased but then Prima arrived with...



her sister Budjoy who is also a Brendon enthusiast like me! Yippeee!!!!

Anyway, as we were waiting for the mall to open, we spotted another cosplayer, a guy who was still not in costume with his friends aka crew, like Prima and I. So I swore to myself that we would beat this guy with our EFFICIENCY! I don't know how that idea popped into my mind, it just did... So sue me! Anyho, this is how our "competition" looked like...



I am such a weirdo, picking up fights with other people.But there are still weirder people than me in that place... (I'm so evil!) I remember talkin to myself as people crowded Prima, Budjoy and me, "Naku,'wag ka lalapit dyan,mga weird yan!" (Hey, don't go near them, they're crazy!) And then I remembered where I was. See, everyone there were nice although a bit overly enthusiastic but nice...

I feared for my life when I turned around and there was a life-sized Chuckie at my side...



And it was sooo cool to see a cross-dressing guy with enough guts (pun is intended)to pull the whole thing off...



And there were also some of my favorite characters,say this guy...



And Cho Hakkai...



And Bumblebee!



It was all soooo COOL!!!

Sunday, March 30, 2008

Commencement Address

I was surfing the net looking for an inspiration for a response of graduates, to whom? I know not hence the mind numbing search. I stumbled upon this address and I thought that it was kinda cool and humurous but it made a lot of sense.

Jon Stewart's ('84) Commencement Address
Thank you Mr. President, I had forgotten how crushingly dull these ceremonies are. Thank you.
My best to the choir. I have to say, that song never grows old for me. Whenever I hear that song, it reminds me of nothing.

I am honored to be here, I do have a confession to make before we get going that I should explain very quickly. When I am not on television, this is actually how I dress. I apologize, but there’s something very freeing about it. I congratulate the students for being able to walk even a half a mile in this non-breathable fabric in the Williamsburg heat. I am sure the environment that now exists under your robes, are the same conditions that primordial life began on this earth.

I know there were some parents that were concerned about my speech here tonight, and I want to assure you that you will not hear any language that is not common at, say, a dock workers union meeting, or Tourrett’s convention, or profanity seminar. Rest assured.



I am honored to be here and to receive this honorary doctorate. When I think back to the people that have been in this position before me from Benjamin Franklin to Queen Noor of Jordan, I can’t help but wonder what has happened to this place. Seriously, it saddens me. As a person, I am honored to get it; as an alumnus, I have to say I believe we can do better. And I believe we should. But it has always been a dream of mine to receive a doctorate and to know that today, without putting in any effort, I will. It’s incredibly gratifying. Thank you. That’s very nice of you, I appreciate it.
I’m sure my fellow doctoral graduates—who have spent so long toiling in academia, sinking into debt, sacrificing God knows how many years of what, in truth, is a piece of parchment that in truth has been so devalued by our instant gratification culture as to have been rendered meaningless—will join in congratulating me. Thank you.

But today isn’t about how my presence here devalues this fine institution. It is about you, the graduates. I’m honored to be here to congratulate you today. Today is the day you enter into the real world, and I should give you a few pointers on what it is. It’s actually not that different from the environment here. The biggest difference is you will now be paying for things, and the real world is not surrounded by three-foot brick wall. And the real world is not a restoration. If you see people in the real world making bricks out of straw and water, those people are not colonial re-enactors—they are poor. Help them. And in the real world, there is not as much candle lighting. I don’t really know what it is about this campus and candle lighting, but I wish it would stop. We only have so much wax, people.

Lets talk about the real world for a moment. We had been discussing it earlier, and I…I wanted to bring this up to you earlier about the real world, and this is I guess as good a time as any. I don’t really know to put this, so I’ll be blunt. We broke it.

Please don’t be mad. I know we were supposed to bequeath to the next generation a world better than the one we were handed. So, sorry.

I don’t know if you’ve been following the news lately, but it just kinda got away from us. Somewhere between the gold rush of easy internet profits and an arrogant sense of endless empire, we heard kind of a pinging noise, and uh, then the damn thing just died on us. So I apologize.

But here’s the good news. You fix this thing, you’re the next greatest generation, people. You do this—and I believe you can—you win this war on terror, and Tom Brokaw’s kissing your ass from here to Tikrit, let me tell ya. And even if you don’t, you’re not gonna have much trouble surpassing my generation. If you end up getting your picture taken next to a naked guy pile of enemy prisoners and don’t give the thumbs up you’ve outdid us.

We declared war on terror. We declared war on terror—it’s not even a noun, so, good luck. After we defeat it, I’m sure we’ll take on that bastard ennui.

But obviously that’s the world. What about your lives? What piece of wisdom can I impart to you about my journey that will somehow ease your transition from college back to your parents' basement?

I know some of you are nostalgic today and filled with excitement and perhaps uncertainty at what the future holds. I know six of you are trying to figure out how to make a bong out of your caps. I believe you are members of Psi U. Hey that did work, thank you for the reference.

So I thought I’d talk a little bit about my experience here at William and Mary. It was very long ago, and if you had been to William and Mary while I was here and found out that I would be the commencement speaker 20 years later, you would be somewhat surprised, and probably somewhat angry. I came to William and Mary because as a Jewish person I wanted to explore the rich tapestry of Judaica that is Southern Virginia. Imagine my surprise when I realized “The Tribe” was not what I thought it meant.

In 1980 I was 17 years old. When I moved to Williamsburg, my hall was in the basement of Yates, which combined the cheerfulness of a bomb shelter with the prison-like comfort of the group shower. As a freshman I was quite a catch. Less than five feet tall, yet my head is the same size it is now. Didn’t even really look like a head, it looked more like a container for a head. I looked like a Peanuts character. Peanuts characters had terrible acne. But what I lacked in looks I made up for with a repugnant personality.

In 1981 I lost my virginity, only to gain it back again on appeal in 1983. You could say that my one saving grace was academics where I excelled, but I did not.

And yet now I live in the rarified air of celebrity, of mega stardom. My life a series of Hollywood orgies and Kabala center brunches with the cast of Friends. At least that’s what my handlers tell me. I’m actually too valuable to live my own life and spend most of my days in a vegetable crisper to remain fake news anchor fresh.

So I know that the decisions that I made after college worked out. But at the time I didn’t know that they would. See college is not necessarily predictive of your future success. And it’s the kind of thing where the path that I chose obviously wouldn’t work for you. For one, you’re not very funny.

So how do you know what is the right path to choose to get the result that you desire? And the honest answer is this. You won’t. And accepting that greatly eases the anxiety of your life experience.

I was not exceptional here, and am not now. I was mediocre here. And I’m not saying aim low. Not everybody can wander around in an alcoholic haze and then at 40 just, you know, decide to be president. You’ve got to really work hard to try to…I was actually referring to my father.

When I left William and Mary I was shell-shocked. Because when you’re in college it’s very clear what you have to do to succeed. And I imagine here everybody knows exactly the number of credits they needed to graduate, where they had to buckle down, which introductory psychology class would pad out the schedule. You knew what you had to do to get to this college and to graduate from it. But the unfortunate, yet truly exciting thing about your life, is that there is no core curriculum. The entire place is an elective. The paths are infinite and the results uncertain. And it can be maddening to those that go here, especially here, because your strength has always been achievement. So if there’s any real advice I can give you it’s this.

College is something you complete. Life is something you experience. So don’t worry about your grade, or the results or success. Success is defined in myriad ways, and you will find it, and people will no longer be grading you, but it will come from your own internal sense of decency which I imagine, after going through the program here, is quite strong…although I’m sure downloading illegal files…but, nah, that’s a different story.

Love what you do. Get good at it. Competence is a rare commodity in this day and age. And let the chips fall where they may.

And the last thing I want to address is the idea that somehow this new generation is not as prepared for the sacrifice and the tenacity that will be needed in the difficult times ahead. I have not found this generation to be cynical or apathetic or selfish. They are as strong and as decent as any people that I have met. And I will say this, on my way down here I stopped at Bethesda Naval, and when you talk to the young kids that are there that have just been back from Iraq and Afghanistan, you don’t have the worry about the future that you hear from so many that are not a part of this generation but judging it from above.

And the other thing….that I will say is, when I spoke earlier about the world being broke, I was somewhat being facetious, because every generation has their challenge. And things change rapidly, and life gets better in an instant.

I was in New York on 9-11 when the towers came down. I lived 14 blocks from the twin towers. And when they came down, I thought that the world had ended. And I remember walking around in a daze for weeks. And Mayor Giuliani had said to the city, “You’ve got to get back to normal. We’ve got to show that things can change and get back to what they were.”

And one day I was coming out of my building, and on my stoop, was a man who was crouched over, and he appeared to be in deep thought. And as I got closer to him I realized, he was playing with himself. And that’s when I thought, “You know what, we’re gonna be OK.”

Thank you. Congratulations. I honor you. Good Night.

Wednesday, January 9, 2008

Eris Raves!

Hell.
It's actually my birth day today. Cool.
Although the tragedy of it all was that during the most awaited day of my life (aside from Christmas of course) is yet still to suck. And suck hard it did,, but in a good way.

I'm sixteen today! Yes!

Anyway, a series of unfortunate events happened to me starting off with being extremely late for my class, say third period? I was stuck in traffic for 2 hours.After that, while I was going down the PUV I tumbled down and fell like Humpty Dumpty. It was embarrasing. I failed my English Test. I messed up with my Math homework. I was starting to feel depressed on my effing birth day.

Lucky for me I have my friends! I want to thank them all for remembering this twat's birth date and being willing enough to spend the day with the said twat, even give the twat gifts...

Denesy, I like the yellow towel. It's sooo gay. Very much like me... Hahaha, honestly, I like it. Thanks!

Eljohn, Rommel, Ton, Kim, Jav, Emo Friend, thank you for that wonderfully delicious chocolate cake. I loved the marshmallows and the icing. You know me to well...

Prima - My Liege, Lord Master My Dictator For Life, Mrs. Beckett, Mrs. Flowers, Rin-ciaco, Intet, Princess, bestfriend, Santi!!! Your letter made me cry. Thanks for considering me as your friend. Love yah!!! Santi!!!

Tanya, Emo Friend, Trisha, Alyssa, Sheila, thankss for texting me a happy b-day. I really wasn't worth your 1 peso nevertheless I feel the love...

Everyone else, thanks for greeting me a happy birth day! You made my day very special and worthwhile. I forgot my bad beginning and rushed through happy ending.

Kudos to everyone!

P.S.
I am definitely out of the closet.

Sunday, January 6, 2008

Angst is fun, Angst is good, Angst will not make my fingers swell!

I think that the thought of me failing at anything never crossed the mind of my parents – they believe in me too much. This is a big problem for me since I don’t believe that I have any self-worth at all…
It is 12:51 a.m. on a Sunday morning and I can’t sleep. Thoughts of failure keeps me awake most of the time but tonight there are butterflies in my stomach zooming back and forth. I do not know what bothers me the most, school, family, responsibilities I never really considered and have done well in before.
If you are reading this then be assured that, yes, this is in fact a suicide note. It may take me years to commit that act or days but I assume that what I write in here would still be the issue pestering me to no end. I am not fickle as to die because of love, I’d die because of selfish reasons – reasons yet I am still to uncover as I write this note. Maybe it is the reason why I cannot sleep…
Yes, one day, you would find me with my wrists cut and lots of blood around my fat, cold, dead body – I am too much of a melodramatic person.
I think that I failed in my College tests and I would be a burden to my parents, see selfish reasons really. I don’t want to be a bother. My sisters are too young to be tainted with my mistakes, that is why I wouldn’t drag them into my mess. My sisters are very bright, happy, and lovable persons, they will do well in the world. The world will love them, society will accept them, they will charm their way into a life of comfort – things that I will never be able or willing to do. I do not envy them, I admire them, and I will always love them.
I am utterly disgusted with myself. I do not know how my friends could love me (for I do love tem, the question is why do they love me back) and how could my parents tolerate my presence for nearly a span of 15, 16 as of January 9, years. I am a pitiful excuse for a human being; I do not deserve the attention, the care, the providence given to me. I am thankful for everything, I just realized that I lack the capacity to be able to fulfill their expectations and return their gifts. I still cannot comprehend their reason for being with me…
I still believe that I am of no importance but still this would not be the reason for my death, I am not affected nor do I resent the fact that I am a speck of dust in a gigantic universe, small enough to be ignored, small enough to be destroyed yet still no one will look for after.
I still do not know the reason why I cut myself before I sleep, why I dream of dying, why I always think of depressing thoughts, why I always toy with ideas concerning my demise. I do not have a mental problem. Maybe that is why I am writing this note, to assure everyone of my healthy state of mind as I reason out why I should die.
I do not want to be the girl who died because she hates poverty, a very petty reason if you ask me, I do not want to be the boy who wanted to be free of poverty, I am much more courageous than him I believe because running away is not the answer, I want to be the girl who wanted to die because she thought it was a high time for someone to help the world have a lesser population and get rid of another delinquent in the making. I’d like that very much…
I want t clear that I love my parents, I love them dearly, maybe that is why I am doing this (and as of now tears are running down my cheeks, hahaha very melodramatic), I’d want them to have less burden on their minds. I am a teenager, I’d like to go to college and finish a course which costs a fortune, I am the eldest of five daughters, I have many financial needs, I do not want my parents to have a problem with me. Maybe if I go away to that place where all lost souls go, they’d have enough money to support my other four sisters and give them everything they need, I take up a lot of our resources as I exist.
Hahaha, maybe I should just sleep...

Monday, October 29, 2007

Oh, the Irony! the Pain!

I have just spent my hard-earned semestral break confined in a dingy hospital room. It sucked big time! I did not take a bath for six days straight and the nurses (even though they were very nice and cute) kept popping up at the most importune moments. The only good thing that happened during my stay was: the room was airconditioned and it was cool even though I am feverish at times, the food people whom visit me brings like cake, and cable TV so I was able to watch "From Dusk Till Dawn" even if the TV was small and almost three feet away from me....

Anyway, I was diagnosed with Pneumonia, and get this, I had Typhoid Fever at the same time! Talk about coincidence. Did you know that its my first time, since infancy, to be confined in a hospital? Yeah, so during the first day when they placed the dextrose and got blood, I watched very closely... It was quite fascinating. Now, I have a damaged lung, specifically a right-lower lobe damaged lung. I have a weak immune system and when I say weak, I mean WEAK! I cough up blood and my vveins hurt, coz they had to transfer my dextrose. I was very "makulit" and I kept rolling around the bed, now the dextrose was attached on my left hand so that I can still function but shit happened and they had to reattach it this time on my right hand.

What really bugged me about my room was the view. I was on the sixth floor and I had wide windows but when you open the curtains what you see is not a spectacular view but Jake Cuenca's nude body! Who the hell wants to see Jae Cuenca's nude body?! I know I don't! Well, that's sort of the short of my week long stay at the hospital. I hope I won't experience any repeat of it. Ever. Again. Never Ever.

Monday, October 22, 2007

Depression

I am feeling under the weather today, so I unearthed this story and decided to post it. It is a tribute to my very wonderful and good Nanay. Love you, Nay!


The hardest day of my life, for me, was the day that my grandmother left me. She went along with death and played a cruel joke on little ‘ole me. She passed away last August 2006.

I watched over my ailing Nanay for quite a few weeks when she was still confined at the hospital. It was a bitter sweet memory. I’ve never felt so helpless before, watching her past away, fade within my reach. The UST charity ward was hell on earth for those weeks.

She had diabetes and other complications developed such as kidney failure and heart disease. She and my grandfather were living in Cavite, due to our busy lives in metro manila and lack of money, we were never always there to visit them. At least, we try to go there once a month.

The first time I visited her in the hospital, the stench of wet diapers, unwashed hair and Lysol air freshener hit me with a force. As I entered the ward, I was easily taken aback by the sight of my grandmother lying on the bed wasting away like the other people in that ward. When I neared the bed, she opened her eyes and talked to me about her blood pressure. I was slightly fazed because of the topic but I though she just wanted to talk. She mistook me for a doctor. It was because of the amount of medicine she intakes, it degenerates her memory. She can’t even remember her oldest grand daughter! She looked so pale and gaunt. Her body is so weak that she can’t even lift her arm nor sit on her own. When I told her it was me Nerissa, her grand daughter, she laughed. She said that it’s been so long since we last saw each other. I nearly cried then and there. I’ve felt so foolish and guilty for not being always there, I just can’t bear to see my once always joyous, vibrant and boisterous grandmother wither away like a candle. When she awoke, the twinkle I always find in her eyes was gone. It was like a shell of something then. I couldn’t help myself but to hug and cries with her while whispering “I love you Nanay.” After school, I’d go to the hospital and watch her. I’d sit by her side and read some magazines, ape with her and mostly talk with my beloved grandmother. During those times, I felt so happy because I get to spend time with her and the flicker of hope in my heart burns steadily. Even though there is a feeling of dread for the inevitable in my mind, my heart held on. Miracles do happen, don’t they, if you’d just believe.

She died on August 25 at exactly 9:00 am. I was in school then, enjoying and laughing off with my friends in the canteen. I was thinking that this is the life, being young and carefree. After school, I happily walked along the road to the hospital thinking of the funny incident I just saw ion the road. The moment I got there, I saw my mother coming down the stairs. I just waved at her and she smiled while motioning for me to go up. I went inside the ward and saw the bed empty with our things packed. I desperately held on to the belief that everything was just well and we were to come home but then I realized that there were tears in my eyes and everyone else’s; a grief of tide overwhelmed me. My grandmother, a mother, a lover, a daughter of the Lord is gone. Death came swiftly piercing through the night. Death was the thief that stealthily got by the wall I built to protect her, my Nanay. She is gone. Forever. For the first time in years, I cried. I cried my heart out. I cried till my tears run dry. I cried ‘till I can’t cry no more.

I pray everyday for the soul of my Nanay. I believe that she will always guide us wherever we will be. There was a point in my life that I had a break down. I replaced the emotional pain that I was feeling with another kind of pain; physical pain. Only my closest friends know what I can do with the blade and syringes I have stacked up. But then I realized that Nanay wouldn’t want that. She wouldn’t want that. I love my grandmother that sometimes it just hurts so much to go on with life and always smile. It’s hard to go on knowing that the one you love wouldn’t be there anymore to share with your laughter, tears and victories. I hope that in time, I’ll learn to let go. I hope.

Bebop!

If I would describe my life, I would describe it as Aziraphale described Crowley’s music collection – bebop. Ha! You heard it right. My life is bebop, not a very classical definition, is it? What is bebop anyway? Why do I describe my life as thus? Is it mundane? Is it modern? Is it rubbish? Or is it a new-age thing? Do I really know what the word bebop means?

I am very sick today, as in off my rockers sick and yet I woke up early to take the La Salle test… Masochism at its best. I am not a very particular person, from my looks down to my hobbies; I do not exude that aura which calls attention to moi. I am just a normal kid with eccentric qualities but then again being normal means being unique and once again my argument, unique is a euphemism weird and if everyone is unique in his or her own way then my friends we are all freaks. Once I went to a university where I met this very loud and bright individual, I forgot his name but he was quite easy to remember for one, he was hot and second, he was a gay majoring in Communications (Public Speaking). Yeh! My kind of good old fashioned lover boy. Anyway, he was talking to our tour guide and then he heard me ranting about people and their abhorrence for everything weird which was hypocrital since they are weird in their own way. So, when he heard me, he went to me and got my hand and congratulated me, he said and I quote,”I like this girl! Ano number mo?” Hah! I am a gay magnet! Go me!!! Sadly, after that rendezvous, I never got to meet him again…

Back to bebop. What is bebop anyway? Aziraphale knows, Crowley knows, I don’t know. Hahahaha… I am such a weirdo, go me, I am being a human!