The Sheep's Sanctuary

Should I write here again?

2010-12-09T07:37:00.000-08:00

Isn't this supposed to have expired or something?

I guess the Sanctuary is still in existence. Although I just learned that "Sheep's Sanctuary" is not a unique name at all. I Googled it and out came pro-environment/animal sites, and a Facebook account. Mine was at least placed in 6th. But why just 3 followers? Gaah...

But then again...this blog has been quiet for...2 years I think?

I don't even know if I'll resurrect this. I'm just bored with nothing to do. You see, I remembered Ma had a blog and that it was gaining followers. Then she, along with my sister, asked how mine was to which I replied that this was dead.

Hmm...nothing much. Just a short post after all this time. Wonder if I'll bring this back...

Shorts on Smiles and Sorrows

2009-03-12T00:13:00.000-07:00

March 11, 2009. 9:40 PM.

Hi, guys. I won’t talk much. Just a few quick things. First off, I’m very grateful to all of you guys who’ve been reading my posts, despite the length and all hehe. I’d like to thank especially Issa-chan. (Uy salamat talaga hija for reading my stuff and commenting!! ^-^ Some of those comments flattened me! That’s why I’m 2-D now. Lol…) If it weren’t for you guys, I’d have given this whole thing up. Anyway about my cosplay experiences, I’ve written them all down now. I’m just shortening them now and finding the pix to put. They’ll be divided into 3 posts: 2 will be the tales of that day and the 3^rd will be just be an album of photos from the convention.

I would’ve posted them earlier but again life is a drag, a crap, busy with so many responsibilities. How am I now? Well, honestly, not so well. Because of the stress, the loneliness, the feeling of abandonment (Bible guys, please read Psalm 22:1), the frustrations (fate loves to thwart everything I do and the people I work with don’t help at all), I’m now all cynical, melanchoholic (alcoholic of melancholy), irritable and kind of agnostic (I really think God hates me or something. And after much thinking during these past days, I’m really doubting Him…yet again. Did that bore you? Sorry. Just being my honest self…). And unfortunately, a family tragedy struck. Not so tragic (since we’ve all accepted it beforehand somehow), but nevertheless, it’s still a sad time. So I don’t think it’s appropriate to write happy stuff. Don’t know when I will. Uhm, that’s it I guess. For the next bunch of days I’ll be doing school crap, visiting, and meeting up with my dear friend Aika for a play on Saturday night. Hopefully, fate doesn’t play with me again…

Yawn, I slept only 4 hours last night. Was doing a project. Stupid procrastination and cramming. Snore.

Leon signing off…

To My Only and Ever Loving Sister, the Best One No One Else Can Ever Have

2009-03-05T19:07:00.001-08:00


You want a Chii cosplayer?

*Note: the girls in the pictures are not pictures of my sister, good grief. She's much younger and prettier. And today is March 6! Man, this blog clock ain't accurate...*

Dear Ruth, my little fashionista sister,

Before I start saying what I should say today, why don’t I tell you some pretty short tales?

This passed Sunday I went to the cosplay convention. Yup, lots of funny stuff there. Then I saw your two fave characters: Chii and Freya. I remembered you and how you liked Chobits and all (despite the fact you know it’s disturbing). So I took my humble cellphone and pictured those two cosplayers. Enjoy. Sigh, I should’ve gotten a real camera instead noh?

Then this passed Tuesday, after my violin lesson, I decided to play the Happy “Birthday” tune on my violin Mariea (who as you know is named after you). I practiced for some time and recorded. I made 6 attempts lasting from 1 minute to 5 minutes. But the audio recording gizmo in my laptop is just terrible. Plus my later attempts had a lot of wrong notes.

So I decided to try and draw a portrait of you. Yup, I really did. I guess I figured now was the right time. I even prayed before I took the pix of you available and doodled. But I didn’t get it right! Manang Salve said it was nice (guessed it was you pero mukhang nahalata niya yan ang gusto kong marinig. So not counted), but Lola couldn’t say much. She said it was beautiful but that’s all. She said she had poor eyesight so she couldn’t tell. Well, I assumed anyway that meant my portrait wasn’t very good so I tried to draw another one, a different pose. But I found it very unsatisfying and it’s soooo not you. I then reworked on the previous one and asked the advice of Manang Salve on how to fix it (tangosin ko daw ang ilong). I then went to see what Lolo would say. Said it was young and beautiful. When I said that’s what I would give you, he got the idea it was supposed to be you and replied frankly, “Hindi yan si Ruth. Ang layo…” Embarrassed I just pretended and replied “Alam ko, alam ko…” with a dweebish smile while tossing my spinning HB pencil in the air. Before I left, I caught the words “Ang pangit nun.” Ouch…really ouch…traumatized. So I decided to draw yet another one same pose as the ugly one. Prayed again. Result? It was better but it still was so terrible. So unsatisfied and stuff, I just closed my eyes and just had my emo moments…

Then Wednesday. I did the same thing. A different pose this time. Prayed even more earnestly. Can you guess the result? Terrible. Just terrible. I think I was going somewhere actually but it was just so disappointing that I tore the darn thing to pieces. And then to pieces again. Frustrated? Yes. Pissed? Yes. Felt abandoned? Oh, yes.


How about a Freya?

Today, this Thursday, I thought for almost the whole day, exactly what I’d give you. Music was just not good. Portrait went from worse to bad (but still terrible). I thought of drawing you a Card Captor Sakura thing with you as Sakura, the angel and saint, with me as Touya in the background with the usual horns and fork. After all I do tease you about…well…hahahaha. But nah, little Ms. Sakura and her gang are too old don’t you think? So I decided to draw a portrait, not of you, but the Chii cosplayer. I said you might like it since this time, the style would be realistic. Soon I thwarted it a bit to make the Chii a bit cuter. Prayed but I just said pessimistically “Bahala ka na, God…” Result? It was fine, very satisfactory. But the ears were a bother. It would’ve been better to remove them. But then why did I do it in the first place then? Bah…

So there. (About my prayers, well, I know God is good. However, one can’t help but feel He’s abandoned us or something…God respects that feeling…) I can’t give you anything. Alam mo naman mahirap ang buhay. Kaya di ako pwedeng bumili ng regalo. Plus I don’t know what you really want. My poetry? They’re being couch potatoes. Right now, they’re asleep, after all it’s quite late. I can just give you this blog post. Really sorry, hija…I really tried…seriously…oh wait…

Madam Ruth’s Birthday

I guess I don’t have much to say

I’ve failed in every time, every way

But the thing is this, how I wish you, Miss

A very good, very wonderful birthday

My amateur music hit the wrong notes

And all my portraits were wrong, those accursed strokes

My writing’s what I’ve left, don’t ask me for theft

For my wallet, my money; I’m broke…

I can just ask God to lovingly whisper or coo

In your ear, when you sleep through and through

And that love will find air, or you’ll find your joy somewhere

And heal whatever’s plaguing you

Big brother did what he could and should

But I guess Lord wants not for whatever’s His good

Say love to your friends, bet their stories don’t end

As adventurous as the tales of Robin Hood

And now let’s all sing, dance and woo

For things have passed, and now you’re all new

You ready to face? “Pagdadalaga” in place

When I say happy birthday to you?

Hahaha…

Oh I guess my poetry’s senses are still good though more frank and less wordy. Hahahahahahaha…Happy Birthday! ^-^

From

Leon, your melancholic brother

KAINIS, ang dami kong gagawin!

2009-03-01T22:05:00.000-08:00

As I write this down, I’m at CSB the 11^th floor at a computer room. Hopefully, you guys enjoyed all the posts so far. ^_^ Anwyay, let me just express my probs: kainis! Ang dami kong gagawin…may script pa akong gagawin para sa PhiliEn, interview project tungkol sa mga lesbians at gays (Ah crap! Where can I find some? I don’t know much who’s gay or not! AACK!), report na dapat ko nang handaan(the day of reporting is near! AAAAck!) gagawa ako ng theological paper tungkol sa homosexuality (coincidence? Who knows?! And who cares! I was so freakin’ busy, I forgot I have to make this! To make matters worse, it’s not going to be my credit but my aunt’s! AAAACK!), stressed and depressed na naman ako (THE HELL?! Again?!), and I have to do a little secret project (it’ll spoil the surprise) and I have no idea on how to make it yet ‘coz I’m still at the conceptualizing (AAAACKK!). Man, I want to draw! Write! Play the piano and violin (make it sound like a distorted guitar)! But I freakin’ can’t! ‘Coz I’ve got responsiblities! Damn it! And in the first place, they shouldn’t have been mine! AAAcck.. Let me define responsibility, you hate it, you don’t like but you have it, so deal with it! AAAaccck, ang buhay naman talaga oo…2 o’ clock na! Mag-klaklase pa ako sa IntEcom! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaacck…


You see them? Recognize them? Yup, girls and guys cosplaying the S.O.S. Brigade from The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya. I’d love to write of my first time at the cosplay convention down but I’VE GOT WORK TO DO! AAACCCK! DAMN IT!

The Security Guard

2009-03-01T21:35:00.000-08:00


“Pak it up, dude! Pak it up!”—Mark Primavera

“…and listen to others, even the dull and ignorant; they too have their stories.”

—Anonymous, Desiderata

I ended it abruptly ‘coz the continuation would be this. Baka napagod na kayo no? Wala eh. These events are very strange and interesting. I mean I think they deserve to be recorded. But here’s one relief for you guys: this post’s going to be pretty short. Yes, breathe easy now. Well I think it’ll be short…

I came back after one hour. My ComSkX was done and I decided to take one last round around the exhibit (for it was only from Feb 16-21). I was able to buy some 5 posters (3 for me and 2 for my mother.) while they were packing it up. Salamat, right on time ako. Any minute longer and posters would’ve gone. Some of the sekyus there told me na “Sayang, di mo siya naabutan para ma-autograph mo yun.” “Neh, ayus lang, naabutan ko naman siya sa conference.” I replied. This might sound cold but I wasn’t really concerned about the artist; I barely knew the guy! I just knew him though his paintings and just this week. I don’t see the logic to just get some unknown guy’s autograph, no matter how recognized he is. Plus I was more concerned on what he said and did. I’m more focused on his Christ and words then the artist himself. (I’d rather look at the pointed than the pointer. That’s why even if I met an idol Bo Sanchez, I wouldn’t get his autograph. Not even if it’s John the Baptist! )

Anyway, I was going to scrutinize each one, their technique, colors, textures. Yes, that was supposed to have been my plan but something unexpected just happened…

“Wat do yu tink of dat pichure?” I was scanning the gloom of “No Greater Love” when this question popped up. I looked to one side to see one of the sekyus there. At first, I thought he was talking to someone else or he was just talking aloud. But from his face, I knew I was the victim. I sheepishly smiled and asked “Sorry, what?”

“Wat do yu tink of dat pichure?” he asked again.

“I—I think it’s beautiful, wonderful, reflective…about Christ…” I was really wondering what was up with that question. Soon he walked toward me and gazed at the painting like an art critic. Then he began to share his views on the painting. About its beauty, about its gloom, about the reality of poverty…Interesting. At first I thought it would be a quick exchange of words here and there but then I found out that he had a lot to say…

“Hir! Hir. Hir is my favoreet.” He said leading me to the painting where Jesus was praying with the Philippine flag hanging on his hands. Compared to most of the works, this looked smoother in texture, like you could wipe your hand over it.

“Dis shows nationality. I layk it becos it shows dat Christ loves also de Philippines…”

He then began to talk about it but then he shifted to our current dilemmas with the Philippine poverty, our ever corrupted and idiotic government officials, that if the leader was good we’d all have a swell time and history of the Hispanic era. It was clear he despised the Spanish era saying it was they who influenced us with the vices we have now. For me, he was correct. Some not but mostly yes, it was the damn Spaniards. He even wanted me to recall my high school learning of Dr. Jose Rizal’s Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo, about Crisostomo Ibarra and, later, his other identity Simoun Vela, the main characters of both novels. About virtue crashing into vengeance and then death, implying Filipinos weren’t ready for a revolution. Well anyway, I can’t recall all that we talked about. The point was he had a lot to say.

As he talked I began to take notice of his features: he looked like a soldier with an army cut. He was long, not so thin but definitely no fat, like a soldier nga. Almost like one of my dad’s friends. He wore a light-colored polo and slacks. I noticed that he liked talking about Christ, had lots of opinions and strong feelings about suffering, and wanted to talk to me in English, although during my first few words implied that I wanted to speak in Filipino. Gusto ko po mag-Tagalog! Para akong traydor kung Inggles lang ako ng Inggles kainis! Pero wala akong magawa. Sanay na ako sa Inggles…hay naku…Another thing I noticed was that he seemed quite amused if I made a wrong statement. Like when I was describing the painting where the poor child was pushing wheels and Christ was also there holding on to a beam of his cross. I said that the suffering of the poor child was paralleled to Christ’s suffering, his carrying of the cross but then. He smiled, amused and said “Noh, noh. Dat’s rong.” And I was bewildered. Okay…what’s your side then? “Dat depiks da horribl child labor dat happens in r society…” Uhm, sir, that’s what I meant. If you just allowed me to finish...tsk, fine. Have the glory…for now…

Throughout the whole time, he had his walkie-talkie. I found it a bit amusing. They were talking in codes like “Vladimir!” and “Nasa bookstore!” But he didn’t care. He was concerned with speaking his mind out with me. That was until a problem about the Mangyan Exhibit had a little problem.

“Ah copy, copy!” he replied with a tagalog tone. “Wait. Il be bak.”

“Okay.” I replied as I saw him walk briskly away. Taking the opportunity of his absence, I went to check every painting in the room. To reflect on each one, to read the explanations next to them, to analyze them as an artist, to breathe in the holiness…but there was one nagging problem…

You see, Mr. Leon has a problem. What’s that? He’s got paranoia issues! Yes, sir. Aside from being an introvert, my brain loves to enumerate many possibilities; 99% of the time are killer ones. Like when I was a kid I thought meteorites could come anytime, a black hole will spring from nowhere or God would come down and send me to hell (most are possible but hey, what’s the use of worrying?). So when I thought about why that guard just came suddenly, a thousand things went running my mind. Did he want my money? Was he going to kill me? Does he hate me? Is he insane (hmm, all that smart-talk is *ala Bloo from Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends* suuuuussspiiiiiciooousss…)? Or the worst case scenario: it was my one of my dad’s henchmen. Yeah, that’s it! My father has his family hostage and asked that guy to track me down. And once he has my disclosed personal information (in between talks I told about my status as a scholar, the city I lived in and my mother’s province…), dad’s gonna kidnap me and torture me! He’ll want to know where Ma and my sister are. And/or he’ll force to join his new religion. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!! God, help me! (Ang galing ko naman gumawa na kwento, haha. Minsan ginagamit ko ang aking paranoia para sa aking pagsusulat. Epektib naman di ba? By the way, I think like this because of past childhood trauma. We haven’t seen dad for 4 years. Just heard of his status and stuff from some sources.)

Anway, he came back and we began to talk again about stuff. I tried to calm myself the whole time, convincing myself he wasn’t a hired assassin or something. Unfortunately, I had to go. I would be late upon arriving home and Sabbath was almost up (it’s an Adventist thing. But also a Sabbatharian thing, duh…). So I went off. “Ah oke. Yu myt get late. Oke, ba-bye.” “’Kay, bye. Thanks.” Thanks for the talk. It was better than what I planned I guess…too bad I worried myself until I slept…damn paranoia…

Nowadays, I sometimes come across that security guard and I have a few quick chats (after all, I’m the guy who grabs the gizmos. And they’re in the area he guards). Hopefully, I’ll talk with him longer. Also I talk a bit with the guys who run the Audio-Visual Room (the place where I get the gizmos). They already know my full name and find it funny that is so freakin’ long. How I wish could chat with them more. Because I’m very interested with tales such as theirs. I also want to talk to the janitors, the librarians, the canteen guys, the kids on the street, the men on the street…yup, the tales of the humble folk. You can see the life in their eyes, the fires in their soul, the reality of their lives, yessiree…kainis lang kasi na nahihirapan ako sa Filipino… (I’m not trying to be noble or anything in this thought for I’m freakin’ far from it, b-e-l-i-e-v-e me.)

‘Coz what’s so exciting about rich kids, gadget kids? Gadgets? Astig, techy pero let’s get practical: you don’t need that. And it’s an annoying icon especially in this time of economic crisis. Cosplay? Cute, and spunky! But please, please don’t go beyond the convention. We leave in the real world too, man. Anime? Most of them have cute-looking girls showing of their intimate spaces…okay, you know what? F U! Go to hell! Those kinds of anime make me siiiick! What’s the use of those fanservices anyway? Oh, you suffered? From…your boyfriend….oh crap…shall I play a Telenovela intro music for you? Luna Mystika, Lalola, Betty La Fea…take your corny pick.

Okay fine, I’m a bit unfair. I guess what I just want to point out is: don’t always live in their worlds. Snap out of it! Have loads of their fun once in a while but please also remember the real world, which is governed by real laws and not cartoon laws of physics. What I see in Benilde is that people are not acting their age, rather they’re all like children. And that they’re living in their illusions. Excuse me we’re mature now.

So let’s talk real. Let’s talk about living. Let’s talk about life!


Let’s all reflect…

Mr. Joey Velasco's Conference

2009-03-01T21:24:00.000-08:00

“Sigurado akong Pilipino yung artist.”

“Oo naman ah? Bakit nasabi mo yun?”

“Dahil late siya. Di ba ganyan ang Pilipino? Laging late?”

“LOL…”

—interaction between my friend Martin and I.


Mr. Joey Velasco’s portrait of himself in “Palete de Sangre” (details)

Hahahaha, I’m sorry, ladies and gentlemen but it’s not over. Nope. My last post was about Joey Velasco’s paintings. So this one’s kinda related. Nah, don’t worry it ain’t so reflective here. And not so much on his artistry. So I won’t get you zoned out much. But I really must say this was a very odd turn of events…

It was Friday and the time was 2 o’ clock. IntEcom was the next subject (again. After all my M-W-F sched is almost the same) but this time I wasn’t worried on being late. Heck, I had already planned to…cut class! Oh no, Mr. Leon is starting to be a rebel (wow, ngayon lang? Tsk. Dapat ginawa ko nalang sa high school, para mas exciting. Haha, lol. ‘Oy di ko yun ina-advise ha?). But nah, that’s just a pitiful way of being a bad boy. If that were the case I’d be just like the Powerpuff Girls’ Amoeba Boys, who thought of committing the “greatest crime” by…standing on the grass, which had the sign “Keep Off the Grass.” Wow, let’s applaud their genius.

Anyway, anyway, I already decided that passed Wednesday I would go skip IntEcom; I even announced it to the teacher. Why? Well, for two simple reasons: One: IntEcom was not really a concern of mine. Plus it would have the usual routine…of reporters reporting the same repeated reports (tongue twister!). Boring and hellish. And two: The Conference’s theme is not a usual thought. For years, especially the recent days, I’ve been wondering how exactly I can be a good servant of Christ in my animation and art (you might’ve noticed now that I’m kind of religious. Don’t worry, I’m not a zealot or fanatic who’d scream “The End is nigh! Reeepeent, sinner!” or anything like that).

De La Salle-College of St. Benilde is one of those colleges that are obsessed over punctuality. A few absences or lates, you’ll die. It’s funny, you know. It was already 2:40 and nobody showed up yet. What hypocrites. My friend was witty enough to say that Mr. Joey was pretty late because he was Pinoy. Lol. Plus he was an artist and the man of the hour so he should be fashionably late or “artistically late” as quoted from Martin.

Eventually, Mr. Joey Velasco came. He was a rounded, chubby slightly dark-skinned man with short hair and slightly beady eyes. He wore a simple plain yellow polo and black slacks for the conference. Upon scanning him from head to toe, I was really surprised to see him. I had the impression of him having that intellectual aura, whose eyes, nose and chin, knew only the ceiling, the stereotype pose I thought of for an artist, writer (for he was both), and other related poets. Instead, I saw him as a simple guy, the practical Filipino who also didn’t like formalities. Wow! So humble.


Yup, that’s him. Couldn’t get a closer shot, tsk.

The conference began with a song and prayer. For a second, I thought we were gonna have Mass. Then finally the man of the hour came up. “Pwede bang umalis sa podium?” he asked. He then moved out from the podium and went to the center of the stage. “Ay salamat. Masyadong pormal kasi dun.” And then he began to talk. He claimed he was not a good speaker but, for me, he was pretty good in speaking his mind. His speech was not as impressive as any of those fancy dead guys like President Abe, but hey as I always say, simplicity is the best policy.

He talked of his life: his desire for business as a child, his business when he was a child, his collaterals with his girlfriend (he said that his girlfriend always asked for some money. In turn, he took something from her as collateral. How romantic. When they broke up, she paid her debt to him costing her around 5000 or more I think. Now that’s better than romantic.), his Course in Law, his drop-out from the course because he felt called to be like his father as a carpenter (impressively, his father was able to buy him a car and other great things from the humble job), his joyful family life…and soon the diagnosis of his illness (although the true illness was later found out and operated on, it did not end the next event), his sudden depression…and darkness…to the point where he even isolated himself from the world and his family. Soon, he begged the Lord to drop a rope into his dark well so he could climb out of it; even if the rope was made thorns or glass he would do so, he said. But, according to him, instead of a rope, He reached out with a paintbrush. And from then on, he began to paint for fun, for desperation…

Dude, that is just deep…and you know it. But I wonder, where did he get his knowledge in art? I mean I know it didn’t explode suddenly like a World War II bomb underneath the earth that unexpectedly goes boom. His style was realism, something like that of Juan Luna and Félix Resurrección Hidalgo. That’s pretty difficult. So how did he get that? ‘Coz he never told us any of his art past times when he was a kid. Well, anyway, he also taught us three simple basic rules in painting (and I was expecting some technical nose-bleeding words). But listen, they weren’t only literal but also reflective like those in a parable.

Mix the colors of your palette. Sabi daw niya, maghalo-halo ka ng mga pintura hanggang makuha mo ang tamang kulay. But I didn’t get the reflection behind it. Maybe it was: keep mixing the challenges of your life. Experiment with all that life’s got to offer. Learn as many skills as possible as you can so that you’ll know exactly where you fit. (I believe some of us can fit in two areas or more of life at the same time). Gets? Hmm…I don’t know really. Mr. Joey Velasco was a business kid, then supposedly a lawyer, then became a carpenter, then recently a painter. He says this could be just phase and the next thing you know—poof!—he’s somebody else. Hmm…for me, that’s what he meant by mixing colors.

Find the light. “If you know where the light is, the rest will follow” he said. True, kung nakuha mo na kung saan nanggaling yung liwanag, malalaman mo na kung saan dapat may bright colors o dark colors. Gradual darkening and all. But what’s the reflection? Any ideas? Yup, you guessed it: he’s talking about Jesus, Light of the World. If you find God, if you find Jesus, the rest of your “colors”, your life will follow. You will see the painting of your life. Naks, ang galing naman nun…

Position the shadow. Of course, when there’s light, there’s gonna be darkness on the other side. He prefers to paint the shadows behind the characters; never at the front. I believe it’s not a golden rule but just his style of doing things. What’s the lesson? Accordingly, he said something like “Whatever your accomplishments, they’ll be behind you.” Like a tail, a feather in one’s cap. A sign of your greatness that goes with you wherever you go. Hmm, and I guess it means also humility. For if one were to turn his back to look at his shadow, you will stumble and fall since you will lose sight in the darkness. So one should always look to the Light, so you will never fall and keep going and you will see how great He is compared to your shadow. Like when Peter was walking on the lake to Jesus, who was also in the lake, during a storm. He was doing fine until he looked back. Bad move, dude. He began to sink until Jesus pulled him up. Hmm…another way to view the 3^rd rule is, whatever your pains and sufferings, it’s just a shadow or will be a shadow. It’s all behind you now. And so just keep moving forward! (Hello, Disney’s Robinsons.) Keep looking to the light, and just remember the joy you’ll get once you’ve reached the light. So walk as children of light. (Hello, my Divine Light Academy, my elementary school. Miss na kita! ^-^)

After that, he showed us a video discussing the lives of each “apostle” in his Hapag ng Pag-Asa painting, a video which I watched previously in the exhibit (It was always replaying there). It’s a very touching, disturbing documentary about Filipino poverty and suffering. Just check it at YouTube.

A few questions here and there, and then off we left…he stayed for photos and autographs…a celebrity…

By the way, guys, there was one sad fact I learned during the talk: Most of the guys didn’t give much of a care at all to his speech. They didn’t seem to care of his reflections or the poor. All they cared was that this thing was OrDev-Accredited (Oriental and Development of Values—the “Homeroom” of DLS-CSB). One should get a number of activities in order to pass the subject. So there, sigh. Basta nag-attend ka. Yun lang…how I wish my youth at least gave a little thought about our crappy society…

Ang Sining Para Kay Kristo

2009-02-25T23:15:00.000-08:00


The Painting Exhibit of Mr. Joey Velasco

“For the word of God is living and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the division of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart.”

--Hebrews 4:12 (New King James Version)

For the first time in my life, I have felt artworks talk to me. I felt hands dig into my heart, taking it out painfully, bleeding and crying, and snatching it to the other world of vibrant colors silenced and dominated by the darkness of shadows. For the first time, I felt my soul run lost in a world of reality, a reality I have known yet ignored throughout the whole time. The realism of painting, the realism of the Filipino poverty, the realism…the reality…

Er, sorry about that. I lost myself there. But I can’t really describe exactly what transpired to me, the moment my eyes took a look at the paintings of that godly Filipino artist, Joey Velasco. You know, I have some books about painters, about da Vinci, Van Gogh, some Impressionists and the important but sadly forgotten de la Rosa. I’ve scanned their paintings and well they’re all…impressive. Wonderful. Beautifully executed. But did their art ever rise from the page and slap my face like silly? Nope, never, nada. It was only the 22 paintings, along with the reflections posted next to them, that shook my spirit violently, almost making me cry from the fear, the joy, the pain, the hope...

It all happened this passed Monday. My eyes were bored and were just scanning the printed ads on the glass panes when I saw the very plain announcement about Mr. Joey’s exhibit on the 8^th floor. Filipino paintings? A.’riiight…ay salamat naman sa Diyos! Filipino painting up close and personal. Something that would make me forget those silly and somehow (sorry about this, guys but…) really useless crap in anime and other boring phantasms that surrounded me. I wanted a break…

By the way, I actually heard of Mr. Joey a year ago, especially on his famous painting, Hapag ng Pag-asa. It was featured in a magazine of Ateneo de Naga. And well, it didn’t really touch me. Either because I was not that interested, I was too busy that time or the painting was a photograph so…the energy didn’t come to me. I just nodded and was somehow fascinated at the depiction of 12 poor Filipino kids having a meal with Jesus. But that was it; that was all.

Reaching the 8^th floor I planned for a simple 30 minute check around the place and to come back some time later for 2:30 was my next class and I had arrived at the place 2 o’ clock. A photographer was there with his black classic camera hanging from his neck. He welcomed me to the exhibit with a warm smile. As I entered the doorway, I could feel a sense of holiness come around, something like that of Moses and the Burning Bush. Should I take off my shoes?

Of course, I did tell you that a few moments after I laid my eyes on these paintings did I feel a push, the Holy Spirit banging on the door of my heart. So I won’t burn around the bush about that anymore (was that a joke or pun? Haha…two bushes…). The first and one of my favorite works was the “No Greater Love”. It depicted, in a squatters area, Jesus with his head bent down, crucified on an improvised cross of wooden posts with still-posted ads promoting tuberos and other services. There was a plate number “INRI” above him. Two kids were there: one boy, at the left, raising a mug tied to a stick probably to help wet the lips of the thirsty Lord, and a girl, at the right, raising her sampaguitas at him while she holds a baby, probably her sister. They couldn’t get too close for there was that yellow police line surrounding the cross. The sky was very dark. Looking at it, I gazed at nobility and the love these children had for the Lord, trying their efforts to go near him. Or perhaps in order to present their labor to him. Well the reflection was talking about the latter interpretation. Anyway, what struck me was that it seemed only these children cared about the suffering Lover for there was no one else who was there.


“No Greater Love” (poster)

It was so cold and lonely…I felt ashamed…and I looked at myself. All my life I had smiled and entertained pleasures (many vain, some meaningless, many vile) and here is Jesus, dying for everyone, dying for our disgusting deeds, having not the bit of joy throughout his painful passion. And though these poor suffered and too were not able to embrace the joys I could experience, they were somehow so fortunate to have Jesus with them, accompanying them in their pain. I wondered if God ever came with me too…

I continued going around moving, clockwise around the room. Paintings of Jesus’ lifeless body supported by children with eyes large looking at the viewer, the bloody Jesus sitting on the cross with a boy offering him a drink, Jesus praying on a pile of tires in a squatters’ area (much like a Gethsemane scene), Jesus’ holding a beam of wood and a child turning the wheels of work (a revolting reality of child labor) and then…


“Hilumin Mo” (poster)

…“Hilumin Mo.” My eyes stopped and again, I felt myself transported to the painting. But this time, it was something more radical, more soul-piercing. It depicted a dark prison cell with a young man, his hands clasping those dreaded prison bars in his desperation or hopelessness for escape. I could see a green tattoo (probably of a snake) around his chest and arms. Yet his eyes had slight relief for next to him was Jesus, also inside the cell, clasping the bar with one hand. His other hand was on the man’s back. The Christ was looking at this man with such love and sympathy and the teen stared back at the compassion of his Friend.

Of course, the painting was meant also for the social context, of the injustice in our system. But for a few moments, I saw something else. I saw the man was…none other than myself! I found myself behind the bars. I found myself trapped by my own darkness, my own inner demon, my own secret sins. Many times I felt abandoned in the darkness and I could hear the laughter of the devil or my dark self looking at my pathetic struggles to free myself from their grasp. And how many times have I cried begging them to release me from the slavery? Then there’s Jesus. All this time, he was in the darkness with me, stroking my back comforting me, singing to me that “Everything’s alright, yes, everything’s fine…” (courtesy of Everything’s Alright from Jesus Christ Superstar). Throughout my whole dark nightmare, the Lord had been with me every time I broke down in the darkness. This painting had somehow revealed to me the truth of my sufferings…

After letting God take me back to the exhibit, I began to walk again and reflect on each painting. The following is a list of them in the order I remember. After going to the exhibit for a dozen times, I’m quite sure they are in the right order...

Special people holding on to the dead Jesus, looking at the sky with questioning faces, wondering why this Good Man had to die; Mr. Joey’s masterpiece Hapag ng Pag-Asa (I won’t talk so much about it since everyone else is talking about it anyway); another Last Supper work but this time with old farmers; Jesus the Creator, painting the artist Joey Velasco himself; a child with a soldier’s helmet praying to a cross surrounded with plastic toy soldiers; Jesus as the healer, comforting the pain of an injured child; the suffering Jesus, tired from carrying his cross and stooping down to the ground so a child may clean his wounds; some three saints scrutinizing the Hapag ng Pag-asa (think of it as a painting in a paining); children carrying the cross, with Jesus in the background, no doubt grateful and joyful at the relief and kindness of these simple but blessed children; Jesus and the artist’s son, sitting on his lap with a fishing rod; Jesus the Great Rabbi helping a student learn his lessons; the kind Jesus compassionately embracing a mentally-deranged old woman; the universal Jesus praying with the Philippine flag on his arms (a “disturbing” nationalistic work as quoted by the artist); and Jesus’ hugging a most grateful and happy old man, who in his hand holds a crown of thorns.


“Hapag ng Pag-Ibig” (poster)

Hmmm…sigh…many of the paintings were of such a melancholic atmosphere. Kahit yung Hapag ng Pag-asa malungkutin. Sa mukha nila, wala ngang pag-asa (ironic ‘no?). That’s why I liked “Hapag ng Pag-Ibig”, which was at the left of Hapag ng Pag-asa. It depicted Jesus, grinning his pearly white teeth and looking toward the sky, grateful to His Father in heaven. The children there were all smiles having a feast of spaghetti and other foods and drinks available in any simple Pinoy party. An adorable proud cat of black and white, stood under the table. Behind them were the houses of Gawad Kalinga (you know, the wonderful program of some volunteers to help build homes for the homeless?) The sky was so blue, and the day was so bright. Festive colors mixed with the natural greens and browns of earth and wood in the work. I guess the thing I could say was…it was so happy. Insert Beethoven’s Ode to Joy. Add a little hearty laughter and friend, you can sniff the joy out. “Hapag ng Pag-ibig” allowed me to take in the fresh air of optimism before diving again to the sea of darkness and melancholy.

Unfortunately, I had to go. I almost didn’t care if I were to get late. After all, IntEcom (Introduction to Economics) wasn’t fun at all. There were always reporters, saying the same thing over and over and over again (I’m not kidding). People were really snoozing; some were even cutting class just to get away from the boredom. I dragged myself from the exhibit to the entrance but before I left, I took a copy of his poem and wrote on the notebook of comments before leaving. I wanted to say to Mr. Joey that his paintings screamed to me, that my soul began running around the works, searching for hope and that I almost cried (especially with the story behind the painting of the old man and Christ. Hearing its story, about the old man finally meeting his apo and his apo so grateful to know he had a lolo, made me teary-eyed. I really had to avert my gaze from the painting and distract myself with the other paintings to keep the tears inside…). But as I said before, I can’t really say what happened to me during those eternal 30 minutes. Stay simple they say, straight-to-the-point. So I simply wrote these words: “Mr. Joey, your works are simply inspiring. My soul was touched…and it’s still shaking with tears.” I felt kind of embarrassed to write that down. A naïve child I chided to myself. Trying to be a poet huh? Well, sorry, I just don’t how else to say it. I mean my spirit was really crying that even as I sat in IntEcom and the class after that, I was so zoned out. Both because I was still thinking of what I wrote and what these paintings meant to me…

Nowadays, whenever I take a bus ride going back home, or walk along the dirty streets of Manila, or go to the tricycle stations, I always look at the poor especially at the kids, while they rummage through the garbage, trying to live. Napapaisip ako…saan na yata pupunta ang mga bata na yan? Anong nangyari sa kanilang buhay? Anong ginagawa ng mga mga magulang nila? May magulang pa ba rin sila? Anong gagawin ng mga tricycle drayber pagkatapos ng araw? May naabuso bang bata ngayon, may namamatay na ba ngayon habang ako’y komportableng nakahiga sa kama?

…I contemplate on where God was in all of these craps of life, if the stupid government is doing anything at all, if the people, my people, my youth, my friends, had thoughts on what we could do to help them…or if they were just thinking on the latest cosplay or anime or youtube…

But the question I always ask myself: well, what the f are you doing? And I just sigh and I answer nothing because I can’t do anything yet…and that I’m scared on what to do…

I didn’t know paintings were that strong. But now, I felt the painter’s tsunami brush over and wipe my ignorance, exposing me to the fallen world. Then there’s the presence of God in that tidal wave, a sword piercing every part of my body, my soul. I could feel my blood and my tears spilling around me, drowning me in the reality of life. My God…

If ever that artist comes across my post, I’d like to him to tell him this:

Mr. Joey Velasco…you’ve provided a portal for us to see the pain of life, the misery of our suffering brethren. The horrible atrocities, the evil and stench of society. But you’ve also provided us portraits of a loving, suffering, compassionate God. That no matter what happens, no matter what hell comes around, no matter how many demons are running amuck, there is Jesus. We all have Jesus…

May pag-asa pa…


To be continued…

The Buen Dia Code and the Brothers-in-Crap

2009-02-11T23:40:00.000-08:00

“What is your goal pala, ha?!”

--comment of one guy, on Sir Buendia’s puzzle

Dude, last Thursday was like one of the funniest days I’ve had. Yup, life is good.

The first comedy show I had was a few minutes ago after our Algeb-X (lab) teacher Dr. Buendia left already. As usual it was my job to drop off his papers at his locker, which is in the faculty room. I would have left the place if a certain group of guys had already finished their paper, the little puzzle game sir gave all of us. (Yup, that prof was always up to some silly prank…at least the subject didn’t become so dull…) It was all about Multiplication of Polynomials, Special Products, those fancy numbers with x’s and 8’s and other symbols only heaven knows. The puzzle is like this: we’re supposed to match tiles to tiles and paste them on the bond paper supplied to us. If one side had the numbers (x-2)², and the side of the another tile had the numbers x²-4x+4, then you’re supposed put them side by side (since they’re both equal. Math crap). All the sides should match, by the way. Gets? Kung hindi, ayus lang. Kalokohan naman talaga ang algebra…

Anyway, they were the only ones left fidgeting with those squares; I occasionally helped them. They had been there for an hour or so, sweating, scratching and swearing at the insanity that is mathematics. Eventually they gave up and just went pasting on random stuff. That was when I noticed that there were texts behind the paper squares, thanks to the wetness of the paste.

I suddenly had a revelation.

“Uhm, hey guys, may ideya ako.”

“Ano yun?” they responded, analyzing the crap of numbers.

“Baka prinint-out ni sir yung mga equations na yun sa isang scratch paper tsaka chinop-chop.” I further added, “Tingnan niyo. May text na kayong binubuo sa likod.”

To verify this, they looked at the back of two unglued puzzle pieces, which they knew were compatible. Finding out that the text matched, they exclaimed, “Oo nga no!” “De p***!” Their eyes grew wide exceeding my Tarsier-like ones. Since the next class was up, we all went out, and soon, they began to tear the glued pieces and began to check which text matched which. Poor little paper. Ripped and blurred and dirty…

“P***, di ko na mabasa ‘to!” said one looking at a damp and almost unreadable piece.

“Ano ‘to? ‘For achieve’—nasaan yung isa?”

Haha, what a sorry bunch. They were making out whatever they could read from the text. It became a literature puzzle rather than a mathematical puzzle. Tawa kami ng tawa. Hahahay, mas nakakatawa kasi kung nando’n kayo. Tsk, sayang…Here are some wonderful pictures to explain the happeningsh.

The Three Musketeers!

So which is for which?

Can you even read that?

“’What is your goal’ pala ha?”

There is your puzzle, sir! Happy?!

Finally, the happy trio left even writing down th title of the text on the paper.

“‘What is your Goal’ pala, ha?!” one said, talking to the sorry wet mess of a paper.

Dapat bigyan ng sila ng bonus, haha! Nakuha nila rin yung text sa likod!

With that thought in mind, I went along with my usual routine.

***

Then P.E time came by. I had no official P.E. uniform because the delivery of them clothes was slower than a sloth. And their so-called “normal” sizes could fit Goliath quite nicely. So I didn’t buy anything, unless I wanted to look like a scarecrow or something. Rather, I went for the substitutes which our PE teacher agreed for us to use for the meantime.

I was dressing up in a cubicle near the multipurpose room of DLS-CSB Main when suddenly a pair of crazed students came in; one with a demented energetic aura, and the other with a bored attitude like that of Squidward Tentacles.

“Ay salamat may tabo na! Makaka-‘ano’ na ako!” squealed one. His steps clopping happily like a free horse.

Makaka-ano? I thought to myself. Good grief, what was he talking about. Crap, dude. It was all about crap!

“Nakatae ka na ba sa school?” asked that happy boy casually.

“Oo.” replied his pal, with such a placid tone.

“Kailan?”

“Last term…”

SLAM!

Oh sweet mother of hell, he took the cubicle next to mine. I quickly began to pack my stuff for who knows what foul scent can kill me right there.

“Tawagan nalang kita…”

Then I heard it alright. The sound of a mini-machine gun with that “prrrt-prt-prrrt-prt-prrrt-prt-prrrt-prt”.

“Aa! Aaaah…” he moaned. Boy, was he feeling great on his climax. And I was still fidgeting with my bag, hoping for doomsday not to enter my nose.

Did I mention that he farted around 5 times? And that his sound accompanied a gargling sound? Like that of some vile liquid being spurted out of his gluteus maximus? Holy Sh…

“Mabaho ba?” asked the expeller. I really wonder who in his right mind would casually talk about the scent of his feces or fart to anyone.

“Hindi, hindi…” replied his friend in എ tone so dull I wondered if this was a usual thing for him. And I also wondered if he was watching this grotesque show throughout the whole time.

Luckily, no scent was present. And I had finished packing my stuff. So I quickly went out of the cubicle but stayed for a while at the mirror to see if I looked good. As I left the comfort room, a guy in formal wear was filling a pail with water. Yup, this guy was Mr. Tentacles. His eyes were so lazy and his posture so tired he’d be perfect to play a live role of that sea creature. He then bopped his way to the cubicle answering the Thinker of the toilet, “O, eto na. Eto na…”

***

And that was it really. Two jokes in one day. The school day ended with a yet another fun time introduced by Sir June a.k.a Onizuka (well, that’s his idol) in our COMSKI2-X (Lab). Too bad the day ended with a sudden violent revelation about myself…but I’ll leave that for some other time…

And so once again, the day is saved thanks to…Greatest Teacher Onizuka!

From Searing Sunday to Moody Monday

2009-02-03T02:22:00.000-08:00

"Better u rest d whole day. Bt if ul keep on fretting, para k n ring hindi ngrest. Relax. Bka lalung lumala pg pumasok ka.”
--Mother, to me when I asked on attending school despite my fever.

Thank goodness that my sickness is starting to leave me. I’ve been sick since Sunday morning. Previously, that Saturday night I came home at 11 o’ clock. I had come from my church’s social night, a time when all members young, old and pastors would gather and play the silliest games. (I think I’ll post this story some other time). The factors that might’ve caused me to get sick were my tiredness, the waters that I washed over my face and hands, the cool drinks that I had, and the coldness of the night, with a fan blowing directly at my back. I was only partly covered by my blanket.

When I woke up at around 5 AM, when the sky was still so dark, I felt very warm and my throat felt so irritated. Don’t make me give you actual details. No one likes it. Soon, I slept again, and woke up at around 7:30 AM. The heat around my body and my burning throat had calmed down somewhat but after a few hours, at around 12 that little heat became a fever to me. Couldn’t eat my lunch right…

You know, I found out that being emotionally charged while I’m sick is very, very, very bad for me. It’ll make it much worse. And it was to my damn misfortune that I experienced two emotionally-charged moments.

Where have you been all my life?

First was this: While I was eating my lunch, I talked to Manang Salve, who was removing the junk from an old drawer I wanted to bring to my room. She found a couple of books (some from my father’s college days), and dried leaves (probably from bananaques. I don’t really know.) Then I saw her bring out a blue-green book with a Scottish man on it, his back and his face toward the viewer. My eyes grew wide and my mouth went agape as I read the title…Ghosts Go Hunting…

With childish delight, I swore many times in Filipino at Manang Salve. (ooh, ironic.) . I kept saying over and over again. “Paano mo yan nakuha Manang!? Hinahanap ko yan noong bata pa ako!” If I remember right, I received that as a gift from my mother when I was in Grade 5. I loved all the creepy Scottish styled-stories. Then I lost it and for months, I really went searching for it.

Forgetting my dust allergy, I went scanning the book, reading a few passages, and looking at the pictures in it. I became a child again, remembering the tales like The Man Who Helped Carry the Coffin, The Tale the Crofter Told, and The Wild Ride in the Tilt Cart. It was only after eating and going to the bathroom to wash did I sneeze a lot. Hundreds of ‘ah-choos!’.

For a while I thought my fever left but soon it got so bad that I had to lie down. Since I didn’t want to be idle the whole time, I read Charlson Ong’s “Bearer of Swords”, something I had to read for PhiliEn. Crap, it had so many flashbacks and super fancy words that I had to read twice the long paragraphs to get it.

My second emotionally charged moment arrived when Lola just went banging madly at my door and asking me angrily why I haven’t answered her calls. Gentle at first, I then flew into a rage and went down the stairs to write down the address she wanted me to write from the lady on the phone. Maybe it was because of my slightly irritated voice, the lady felt insecure when talking to me…

After I went back and finished reading, I waited in annoyance for Manang to come home and cook dinner (She had left 3:30 for Mass.) Soon, I weakly and clumsily walked down to my grandparents’ room to ask if Manang had finally come. Lola told me that she told her to buy me Neozep. That kind of struck me. Even though I had been very rude to her and that I was still angry, she took the effort to help me at least. Guilt began to gnaw me…

With my USB, my wallet, and my cellphone, I left the house to go to an internet shop for I had to send a group project to a classmate of mine to check and print. Damn it, my bad luck was really everywhere. The nearest internet shop had no connection! Acck. So I left and went out to go to the next internet shop, coming across Manang along the way. Since she was out anyway, I told her to go buy a Tagalog newspaper, a tabloid, whatever, for my Filipino Project

You know what? When I went to the next Internet shop, it was full to the brim!
“Maghintay nalang po kayo, malapit na silang matapos.” said the woman in charge.
“Ah kailan po?” I asked as gently as I could.
“13 minutes.”

13 minutes? Well, sorry, I’m sick and I don’t know how long I could stand, for I was really dizzy throughout the whole time. I couldn’t even see clearly throughout my whole walk from the house to there. I then called Tita Jing, who lived nearby. And thank goodness, they were kind enough to allow me to use the Internet to send the files. It was funny for all or us that Darryl’s (daughter of Tita Jing) boyfriend also had fever. Laughing weakly, as I left the house, I said to him, “Good luck, dude.”

As I left the house and dragged my feet to my house, I thought of their kindness. For many times now, I have always asked for their help in my college troubles. And they never hesitated to lend a helping hand. Sigh, it’s in times like this I thank God for such wonderful souls for a family…

After I ate my dinner, I took my paracetamol (Neozep wasn’t what I really needed. It was actually Paracetamol.) and called my mother at the province, a weekly routine. I was talking to her while I was lying down on 3 chairs the whole time. To boost my ill status, I talked to my sister Ruth and teased her about what could happen in her high school life. (She’s in Grade 6 and might come to Manila and attend high school in Sta. Scholastica.) She became paranoid and pissed whenever I told her she could most probably turn gay, being surrounded by only girls. Well that made my night, haha. I then slept early. My other planned projects (and blog posts) could wait…

Then when I woke up today at around 5:15 AM, my heat, dizziness and soar throat was much too overwhelming for me to stand up. Upon the advice of Lola who came up to me a few minutes later, I didn’t attend classes. At first I tried to wrestle with myself to stand up and attend classes for today had two long quizzes, a discussion on “Bearer of Swords” which has me slightly hooked, a critical discussion in Filipino and probably a new ComSki2-X (Communication Skills 2) activity. But the sickness was too much for me. So reluctantly, I wrapped the blankets around me, and texted my friends to tell my teachers I couldn’t make my usual gizmo borrowing duties. I then fell into deep slumber waking up at around 7:15 AM. The dreams I had were very troubling nightmares, a typical thing whenever I am ill.

Simply put, I didn’t do much today but watch TV at my grandparents’ room. They were thoughtful enough to leave it open for me since usually they would lock it.

Watching School Rumble in the Hero Channel, the channel that dubs animé shows in Filipino. Not bad but the voices sound kinda corny.

I watched some nice animés. I watched the crazy antics of Sergeant Keroro, the historical-fantasy tale in Ghost Slayers Ayashi, the Feng Shui episode of Samurai X, the last episode of Emma 2 (awww, it was just so cute. Call me corny but I really liked the theme when the rich man finally married the maid after the many troubles they had experienced. It was very poetic and romantic…), the troubles of School Rumble (a show I don’t really find that interesting. Sorry to all the fans out there. It’s just me, ‘kay?) and the cuteness of Alice Academy. I had a little Shaggy and Scooby and a few cartoons once in a while. But I soooo wanted to watch Negima?! (The girls there are just hot. And the story is just so darkly themed). Or at least any shoujo-ai show...acck…

I bet you’re bored now. LOL. Fine, fine, I’ll end it here. But here are some little things I learned:
1. If you need to rest, rest. Don’t force yourself or you won’t get anything right.
2. (Probably the lesson everyone loves…) It’s wonderful to be lazy and be a TV freak once in a while. Being a couch potato cleared my head…and I don’t mind at all if I can do it again…and again…hahahaha…naku tinamad na akong mag-attend ng klase, hahaha…

A Sunday of Annoying Events

2009-01-25T21:51:00.000-08:00

“Ang buhay talaga naman oo…”

My instruments from left to right: Mr. Boe, Mr. Bo, Ms. Mariea Hoffner, and Ms. Henrietta Mozart.

I had an interesting Sunday. At around 7:15 AM, I woke up with the yellow-orange rays of the sun sweeping throughout my room. I’m staying where my parents used to stay and so for those few moments, I felt I was a little naïve child again, waiting to go to my room and play with balls, blocks and other childish toys. I slammed my head back to the pillow, getting the energy to push myself out and do what I had to do: play, do homework, eat and sleep. Exciting ano?

Eating my usual oats, I watched the news with Lolo though I wanted to check the show of a pastor discussing what it means to be grateful and all. But then again, Lolo was kind of cynical with stuff like that (he’s a bit of a deist) so I switched to the news. Boring…

After getting one cool refreshing bath, I proceeded to play my tomboyish electric keyboard, twisting my fingers to hit her black and white keys. I enjoyed the melancholy of Bach and quickness of Clementi (whoever that composer was). When it came to playing with my sexy (!) violin though, I really got pissed. For me, in terms of expressing melody, piano is so much easier than the violin ‘cause you’ll need grace and relaxation when playing it. I bet Buddha might’ve had a swell time with that. But me? The hell, I kept messing up.

Do re…fa! Do re…so….! Do…re…re…

…what the hell was that note? It’s supposed to be “mi” gaah… The hell, and I so wanted to try the 3^rd position (there are many positions: the lower the number the farther away from the body, the higher the number, the nearer the body). I sounded like a yelping cat or a car slowing down. I pressured my bow and I really pressured my chin on the violin to find out what the crap was wrong with me. Trust me, I was really pissed. So pissed that upon a little pressure on my chin I heard a veeeeery tiny “crik!” on my violin. And that scared me to hell! Violins are such fragile angels that they could suddenly crack all the way. Well, from the really thorough inspection of our katulong Manang Salve and I, we found none. I think it was just a normal sound. Come to think of it…I kind of hear it sometimes…

I then ate with Lolo and I was really happy that we could all eat together. Finally, the one who annoyed me wasn’t here. Smiling, I just ate to my delight. I really treasure family moments, you know. After much family troubles, I couldn’t take these things for granted anymore.

Look at it! How can you resist the sunshine?

Then came the best part: the lazy afternoon sunshine. I was supposed to have been drawing or pastel experimenting by this time but man, who could resist that wonderful sunshine skimming through the grass? I could feel so much life and my pastel sketches didn’t satisfy me. Besides, the artist’s block was there. So I dropped those items and just watched my wonderful front yard teeming with so much joy. The rustles of the palm leaves, the whispers of the grass, the sweet scent of Nature…ah. I wish I was a quick artist so I could’ve painted a picture of the working Manang between two tall trees. How poetic…

Well, my Sunday crashed when I caught a glimpse of the nuisance coming out of my grandparents bedroom. I tried to forget about it by basking out in the sun. Nope, didn’t work. So I just asked Manang to help me make a list of groceries for me to buy and stuff.

“Wala po kayong sticker…”

The nerve of this guard! I’ve been biking by this road for weeks tapos ngayon lang akong sisitahin? De pu…oh well, ginagawa niya lang ang dapat gawin. According to him, this whole thing started at around Jan 20. That explains it.

“Sir, I’ll just buy something at Value Point (a nearby “mall”).” I explained in English slang. And might I say I did that for quite some time?

“Eh…” he finally replied, “…pwede kitang papasukin. Yung problema kung papasukin ka sa kabila. Kung hindi, eh di mag-iikot nalang kayo.”

At first, I was planning to just turn around and take a damn trike, but after talking with him some more, I decided to just go and take my chances.

“Thank you.”

“Tenk you rin po!”

When I finally bought the stuff needed, I then prayed again if God would allow the guard to let me in. He allowed the previous guard to let me pass; I don’t know for the next one. For some time, I thought I forgot the keys of the bike lock. Crap, stupid. How could I? I always lock my bike lock when it’s not in use. So before I locked the bike lock around my bike, it was…well, locked. Tongue twister…what the lock….

Thank God, the guard wasn’t even paying attention. But I wonder: was that a good thing or a bad thing? Answer: who cares, I had to get this really heavy load out of my back. Boy, did my back hurt as hell…I mean that was really heavy…

So that’s how my day went. I had a lot of downs but at least the day ended a bit gracefully. At the end of the day I had humble pandesal for merienda. Sarap. Nasasawa na kasi ako sa bananaque. Panay bananaque ang kinakain ko noon tuwing merienda, tsk. Gusto ko naman ng iba…

I slept late as usual because I was a lazy ass to do any of my school stuff. Tonight, I better sleep early…oh plus there’s the new set of projects...ay naku....ang buhay naman talaga, oo...

Congratulations, you now have a blog!

2009-01-19T05:04:00.000-08:00

Oh yes, people will be watching me now…mind you, the guys up there are my friends…

Finally, a little piece of the Internet for me to write on. Let me introduce myself (uhm, that profile thing on the right is something I’ll work on when I feel like it): hi, the name’s Leon Seva. I’m a quiet and weird dude

who won’t bother to speak unless I really want to say something or I have to i.e. recitation for class. I’m quite reflective and lonely, wandering around alone aimlessly in the SDA campus of the College of St. Benilde. I love waltzing with my electric keyboard and my violin, hearing them melodies vibrate around the room. My genres are classic, a little rock, and remixes. Graphic arts is something I definitely like and experimenting with different media is just freakin’ cool, man. Pastel is just so cloudy and hard to control, mm hmm, just the way I like it! And then there’s also writing. Poetry and stories are what I do a lot. I warn you they’re kind of melancholic and symbolic but don’t mistake me for emo. Damn it, I hate that…

So right then…I won’t be talking of any stories for now ‘coz I think it’s better if I first talk on this whole blog thing…honestly, I really didn’t want to make one. Not that I loathe this or anything but I just didn’t want it right now and all. I mean I’m a lazy ass! Plus, I don’t always have Internet. Only on Thursdays do I go and scour the net. And for simple reasons: I don’t really like some people to check on my thoughts. Hello, introvert here. I mean I could just get misunderstood. And, maaan, do I hate that…

But apparently, my PhiliEn (Philippine Literature in English) teacher ordered that we all make blogs (is it a bit weird? Welcome to Benilde.) Well at least I now have a reason for me to write a lot…Inspiration has recently left me. So I can’t write some emotional poetry nowadays. And stories? Don’t ask; my energy is always out when it comes to that. I have to weave words and choose the right stuff…sigh, naku…

Mas magaling ako kapag nagsusulat ako tungkol sa mga nangyayari sa buhay ko. Di masyadong mahirap dahil isusulat ko lang ang mga naganap sa araw na yun. We all know writing requires a lot of concentration and time but sometimes, following this will just lose the spontaneity of the work. Right? So I can just whatever stuff comes to my head without dwelling on the fancy words. Too bad I can’t get paid for this, tsk…

So uhm yah. Prepare for some melancholy, reflections or just strange stuff on this blog. Hi, Ruth. I know you’re reading this and probably criticizing my whole corny layout of my blog. XP Bleh! Hi guys, yes I have a blog. The Internet ignoramus has a blog…you can laugh now, lol. XD

So let’s see. It’s 6:48 now. Listening to classical music. Mozart’s Symphony K…uh…40…G Minor…crap…

…the hell, why can’t they just make one name!? Does it have to be so long? Stupid title. Ah crap. Oh and then I have to prepare for some interview. Ah crap. Then there’s the Economics Project. Ah crraa…p…better be going now…I want to sleep early…

Testing...

2009-01-07T18:46:00.000-08:00

Uhm, type, type. Does this work? (Sorry blog ignoramus I am.)