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i'm personifying my own hegemony. [13 Oct 2003|09:37am] [ mood | grateful ] [ music | one armed scissor by at the drive in ] the pen slides a reluctant ballerina on paper gleaming against the fluorescent too bright for a 1am writer. he's keeping me awake again. effortless conversations on a time that would've been better spent on eyebag therapy. but i was sucked in by that telephone, a willing globelines victim, the half-face of insomnia, the other half dipped in all those gamut of lines connecting me with that guy, who for the past four years, has transmuted from a stranger to a prank caller to a suitor to friend to semisuitor to crush to a close friend and now to one of the best people in my life. he's incredibly annoying and wildly adorable. annoying: his laughter a booming symphony of low voices boiled in his appendix-less body. adorable: his own rendition of darkness fell, and the way he makes it known that he values our friendship as much as i do. sam pag me prob ka sabihin mo sa kin, kahit nasan ka pa, pupuntahan kita ok? our friendship has spawned innumerable song duets, a couple of failed relationships on both parties, comforting each other for the said failed relationships, pregnancy false alarm (not me, silly. his girlfriend) which drove the two of us to dual hysteria, "1,2,3 yeba" punchlines, jokes we made up, farting noises , dropcalling on landline, namecalling, "bakit ngayon ka lang" phase, him: sam nasaraduhan na pala ako ng pinto" me:di ka kasi kumatok phase, loud sobs and sniffles, minimum of six hour phone call per weekend. he's dodong peklat to me, i'm samitaeh to him. we're impossible. love? naw. he has a girlfriend. seriously, this is just one of those days i'm grateful that that esteem-dragger (at least for me) division press conference last september 1999 happened. who would have thought my ugly sixteen year old twerp-self would have him bug someone for my phone number? hoo, the boost. *** ehem. guess who added me back on friendster? my rock god is now my friend ;) 4 comments|post comment

updating [09 Oct 2003|09:42am] [ mood | scared ] [ music | show me how to live by audioslave ] curled up in bed and cried myself to sleep last night - my mom's sick, i had a tiff with my father, and tony parson's "man and boy" is just too much. "i should have known,"she said. "the romantic ones are the worst. the hearts and flowers brigade. always the worst because they always need that new fix." sigh. i want an almost perfect marriage. i'm practically dragging myself to masscomm library everyday and this would go on until the seventeenth, i believe. all that academic osculation, argh. wrote the following at the back of my bluebook as an act of defiance: bugaoisan's thesis opened up to the intro - have to read 300 pages more three broadcast programming books - my personal eyesore lib card, blue and red, used 30 times the whole semester blackness and thickness - whats inside, i defy - of my organizer film 1999 coffeetable book to add a touch of glamour to a desk tainted with broken schedule and pretentious ardor a diary to unclutter thesis materials over my head desks like mine across the floor, the library undead. view from the cmc library window: a panoramic green down below suspended by metal ledges, aluminum ridges that reach out for another green in the sky leaves outstretched that half-cover the Meralco wires quietly whirring by a tree in front of another and another - until the horizon is but a spot of blue uncovered by the stoic cauldron of white, boiling with mists and bird wings that swoop down back to my desk and daydreams. still thinking about my mother. she said she might need a bypass, oh god please no. i'm so trying not to cry while typing now. prayers for her please. thank you. will try to shift back to blurty coherence soon. and oh, binibini october ish. please visit. thank you again. post comment

can't think of one [22 Sep 2003|10:46am] [ mood | giggly ] grad pictorial is on thursday. what to do for the creative, what to do. three choices: a) guitar-lugging woodstock hippie (but i already posed like this for the org exhibit) b) imeldific, shoulder-baring kinda goddess (but i already posed like this for another org exhibit) c) i have a garfield stuff toy in a graduation toga with a "#1 grad" on his chest..so hmm..would holding that one do? okay, i think i'm all for this music producing thing sometime in my future. for our music in broadcasting class, we have to get a band and produce their song, so get and produce we did. the band's rapeseed and they did "deliriyo" and we tinkered with the tracks and all those reverb effects and i was actually the sorta major consultant in the group because of my apparent penchant for rock and oooh i can go on and on forever because i bloody love what we did last night. heh. and of course, there was this insecurity itch again because matilda's vocalist was there and was she soo talented. one last story before i go: i'm here in the cafe, right? i was YMing a kabarkada, and: qtalaga: rainbow din ako!~ chasing_cloud: san ka bandaaaaaa chasing_cloud: hehehhe qtalaga: sa may webcam qtalaga: dyos ko po. ikaw? chasing_cloud: dito ako sa may malapit sa entrance kaso dulo..EB tayo hehehe qtalaga: di kita makita chasing_cloud: hehehe qtalaga: ang ganda mo pala in person qtalaga: hihi chasing_cloud: ikaw mas maganda s a pic chasing_cloud: joke!!! 3 comments|post comment

like girltuesday i've opted to go online than study for sts [17 Sep 2003|01:16pm] [ mood | nauseated ] [ music | i alone by live ] on accompanying a kabarkada to her monthly pregnancy checkup: i held her arms gently, carefully led her across the street, aware that at that minute, i was her security. but who was i compared to her. she's lovelier with the ballooned belly and the brave smile. fragile as she looked, i could never be as strong as her. on begging another friend to ditch the plans of going to US: leaving UP is not the answer. she would graduate, and we wouldn't care if it would take her another extra year for that; we'd be there for her. countered her whine, shrugged off her hopelessness. i wouldn't let you go under - white oleander. on resting on my brother's arms for a douche of top-of-the-head stories: i covered his armpit with a hanky - it was too damn furry - before he raved about his girl and how beautiful she is. "kumbaga sa kulangot, siya iyong kulaba." gross, i know, but of course he was just kidding - he always has to be kidding. gawd, he's too adorable for a seventeen-year-old; yesterday he stopped me on my way to the bathroom to kiss me on the forehead. on finding out our dog, diego, is gay: we still love you for you. on having to do the musical score for a documentary, look for a band to produce a studio performance, commodify myself and come up with my own personal advertisement, finish the internship and start off with the portfolio, propose a TV program for sunday afternoon, administer next month's quiz bee and the thesis proposal, of course, of course: four cups of coffee in one sitting could never be the answer. i've never felt so frayed. 2 comments|post comment

non-f4 event last night [14 Sep 2003|02:18pm] [ mood | accomplished ] [ music | don't let me down by stereophonics ] after almost becoming one with the walls of the imbestigador cubicle as no one was around but me on an utterly languid saturday, i dragged myself to padi's point per chelsea's request for the UP underground music community gig. (ha, had i pursued my application to this org, i would've already communed with all those rockers, long-haired skinny ones especially. sigh, sigh and swoon.) boy, i just loved em bands. there was giniling festival that passed around a bucket for donation, sang a tagalog version of bioman theme song and this outrageously brought the bar down- fei de yi (meteor garden opening) inserted with the chorus from the song, "victims of love." then day one (or bay one? or may one?) played smashing pumpkins' today, and the vocalist could impressively do corgan, cobain and even my artadi. another vocalist even did that, quoting pulp, "basti's neck thang." i left early but didn't matter. i loved it. the night and the bass-drums-voice-guitars repertoire - you know, i just wish i have more of this. sounds way silly but i even had that uncontrollable envy for those on centerstage. i wouldn't have minded riffing ten songs straight in one set. or shyness aside, being frontwoman and passing around my own bucket to fund my band's debut album. i'm a daydreamer right? there are days i would listen to uhm, murder of crows, for example, and pretend that i was the one doing the vocals in front of the freedom bar crowd. oh well. so goes my frustration. i play the guitar but come on, i couldn't even detect if it's offkey or not. really, i could just shake the world with an outcry for being so mediocre. uhm, tabulas people finding an illumine who added you, that's me. 14 comments|post comment

i love you mang jimmy [12 Sep 2003|09:48pm] [ mood | busog ] [ music | bugs by pearl jam ] from last night's debate: iggy arroyo: i love you brother. miguel arroyo(with the puppy eyes and hand touching iggy's lap): i love you too. i'm sorry but that just cracked me up. hehe. anyways, so i had my 3 seconds of fame on national TV, thanks to the cameraman who panned a little to the left to include me beside kat, who sorta represented the side of pushing the senate investigation. full-shot, i was seen lousily seating sidewards and smiling widely at kat, really looking as if i were adoring her. sus, minsan na nga lang maTV di pa tumingin sa camera. tonight was kodak moment material though. orgmates dined at mang jimmys. nine of us, eight viands (sisig, tapa, porkchop, pusit, tuna, lechon kawali, endless calories, confluence of frying oil), and bottomless rice. pose here, click there; smile here, practice-grad-pose there. rock, my org, rock. i love you guys. 2 comments|post comment

random. tired enough to go coherent. [09 Sep 2003|11:59am] [ mood | excited ] [ music | uptown girl by a1 hehehe. ] hey. grade 3 st. silvester of batch 1993 is going to hold a homecoming soon. i haven't seen my classmates for ten years and wow, our class adviser - she must be so old now - is the organizer. must look good, hehe. hoping to see my first crush/seatmate again, that cute skinny guy who was the first to give me a happy valentines card straight out of merit pad paper. actually last year, we *accidentally* bumped into each other online and yeah, back to the good ole' days :) org's holding a quiz bee for marikina HS students this october. am flying to the city hall after this and shove letters to their desks - solicitations, can-you-be-our-speaker letters. then, just this morning, i got a text asking the org if we can guest for a young adult program in our local station :) rode the megatren for the first time and i fell in love with it! i seriously love MRT but man, it seems like a toy train compared to the other one. i look so stupid cracking my "duwende deodorant" jokes. it's a requirement to stand and flail the arms while doing so and it can't stop me from cracking it inside a food court. hehe. and how about the "vilma and solid gold dancer jokes"? so silly! :) defying my acads by trying to read the following: ninotchka rosca's monsoon collection (hers is a muse-like name, so pretty), brock cole's celine, the portable dorothy parker and john steinbeck's tortilla flat. good news, i've memorized anne sexton's starry night, which by far, is my most fave poem, second being rachel dilworth's starry day. i swear i don't like my advertising class anymore. i always end up feeling such a loser in that class, my prof has this knack of ganging up on me. such an exaggeration to say that i wasn't respecting him because i pointed my finger at him. really, i did not do it - i only raised my thumb to emphasize the point. binibini september ish out now :) see ya around! 4 comments|post comment

youngblood online [04 Sep 2003|02:01pm] [ mood | cheerful ] [ music | china eyes by alamid ] because i know this has a flimsy chance of showing up in the actual broadsheet itself, i went the html way. yesterday, sally and i were playing our very own 'feed-the-crocodile' game in which we get as many stuffs as possible and you know, pretend they're food. sally went up to her dad's closet and fished something to feed me (as it was my turn to be the crocodile). from afar, the thing looked vaguely familiar until i got a closer look and took it away from her hands. "hey! not that, that's your dad's." it was a condom ;) 7 comments|post comment

pagmasdan ang ulan [03 Sep 2003|11:19am] [ mood | good ] [ music | for whom the bell tolls by metallica ] the wind blusters forth. the swaggering rain pushes its way to the terra firma. my umbrella staggers. with the waters flashing before me and constricting my space, all together with my mercilessly wet sandals and splotches of mud in my pants, i lose myself. it's the rain, that has always been a prelude to those senti moments, billows of emotional checkup that go better with pearl jam on the background and three cups of coffee and cirilo bautista's "stories" - "shit for me now is a metaphysical reality". it's the rain, God's grand scheme of dwarfing humanity through all the condensation, that underscores me, identifying my correlation between the sky and the earth. it's the rain, that sweet liquid splash, that somehow speaks of myself: unsure and unsteady, flaking off to thin, broken lines out to be swallowed by the ground. raindrops racing against each other, brushing the concrete with their coldness, kissing the foliage, inaugurating remembrance: - the childhood bestfriend peering through our window, waiting for me to get outside and play in the rain. - gradefive classmate witnessing my forced attempt to cry because i wanted to feel how it's like to be heartbroken - despite the rain, we never dared move until i shed a tear and roselle nava's bakit nga ba mahal kita would make sense - side by side with blockmates in quezon hall and seeing university avenue glisten with the crisscrossing of lights and water - heavy downpour failing to displace me and another college close friend to a sheltered place, because we're too busy singing loudly in the rain and too happy dismissing "uy, pumasok na kayo! ang lakas na ng ulan!" from people around - trekking the dark,drenched alleys of edsa - and tripping along the way - with my bestfriend - at eighteen, walking with someone under one umbrella, skipping together from one puddle to another, our hands in clandestine lock behind, falling in love the memories flood and the rain doesn't stop them. 4 comments|post comment

this is my october, let me die. [01 Sep 2003|12:00am] [ mood | confused ] [ music | october by collapsis ] erwin was every inch an anatomy of a game freak. the right hand strangled the joystick and the fingers from the left were in an outrage with the buttons. the eyes bulleted themselves straight to the big screen, barely blinking, not missing a thing. the body, steady and tense, and the seat pulling down his entire weight. he was stuck there, and unless he quashed the last opponent from the tournament he wouldn't know any other existence than that of swashbuckling, sasquatch-killing, big-breasted morrigan's. i was there, beside him, looking intently at the screen that was big enough to suck the players right inside. i threw myself in there, tried to psyche myself with such fixation that from time to time i would quietly whoop for every knock-out accumulated. but that mosaic of too many loud colors, sequence of too many movements, cacophony of sounds that blasted with growls, moans, whimpers, and tens of "eee-yaaaaa" soon came as a collective, linear, two-dimensional figure that eventually flew out of my present. i stared at the screen but found something else. lost in the moment? gotcha. defeated by the machine, erwin finally gave up after three tokens and around twenty rounds. "mas gusto ko si erwin kasi transparent siya," someone once said to me. here's a shrug for that. being around him is nice but not great, okay but not right. it's a mentality straight out of, what do you know, video game dynamics. there are times we make ourselves believe that what is there is what we want, when we know it's not. for it still is not, and cannot be, the real thing. ( friday five ) 3 comments|post comment

for the nights i burned [26 Aug 2003|09:35am] [ mood | tired ] i want to be a picture of perfect lassitude spread on a single-sized bed, a postmodern, jaded version of sleeping beauty. heavy-eyed and my hair a liberating cascade in the bedsheets, i toss and turn and curl up, churning out messy creases until they reveal the mattress beneath. i will get lost in orange blankets and disney pillows. pretty dreams hanging over me and waiting to drop themselves on my slightly-opened mouth, that sweet spittle cavity. for precious, precious eight to ten hours. not an hour in a makeshift bed from dining seats. not fifteen minutes in an fx ride. not 30 minutes in a bus ride from laguna to cubao. not those stolen shuteyes, very limiting, r.e.m and never beyond, outright bitin. these nap intermissions in between the 24-hour thesis proposal work which get curtailed the minute it's my turn to sit in front of the pc and think of ways to connect hegemony, frame analysis, the book news coverage of violence against women and crime statistics. that dazed, sleepy look while typing. the endless flow of black sweetened coffee and coke that jolt my senses and tie up my insides. too much caffeine dragging me down the busride, to the sidewalk, the queasiness and my backpack pulling me backwards and raking my legs. it's an out-of-body experience, interlude of nausea and yes, i lookam wasted. i need my bed. i need something to hold me whole. 13 comments|post comment

cartoon festival [23 Aug 2003|09:49am] [ mood | silly ] [ music | clumsy by our lady peace ] despite the advisory of boycotting sm dept store from my activist-friends, i trooped to sm north yesterday immediately after i got my weekly salary from sally's lovable family. reason? to buy that gorgeous blue garfield backpack i had been lusting eversince i laid my eyes on it a month ago. never had an idea though that cartoon festival's up in sm, therefore this promo that a 500php worth of cartoon character stuffs purchased entitles you to a pick-a-prize thingie in which at stake are giant stuff toys including lots of garfield. of course. you couldn't expect me to pass up a chance like that. i went to get that blue garfield bag, and why it took me thirty minutes to decide on which of the three available bags - of the same style, size, price - i would buy, the salesladies could only speculate. having that ole' classic scorpio hunch that i could snag a prize from the promo, i decided to add a pink garfield pencil case so overall, my purchase would amount to five hundred bucks. but it didn't occur to me that 399.50php + 99.50php was actually fifty cents less than 500 - i was 1 point short of failing my math1, what did i expect. i wasn't sure i could exhaust any more money that i even nudged the cashiers if i could still join the promo nonetheless since 499.50 was the closest to the required amount. did they budge? no. so i scouted for the cheapest cartoon thing i could find - garfield was already out of the question since the cheapest left from the stall was fifty bucks - and i got myself powerpuff notes for my cousins. there. problem solved, i was out to pick a prize and snag that garfield whose eyes seemed to beg for me. "own me, sam. own me." promo booth. the person who went first in the line scored a large mickey mouse stuff toy, and i didn't care about the "expect-less" tenet but i prayed real hard that my fingers would be able to fish that paper with the garfield in bold print. garfield stuff toy, big and orange and madly adorable with an "i love you" for his shirt, was right there beside me, an armstretch away, and please - mother of the girl who got the large mickey mouse one, stop asking the saleslady if you could get that. so my moment came. thoughts fumbling for garfield prayers, chest having little palpitations, hands inside the box - gotcha there, you paper you. i unrolled it and ... "thank you for shopping in sm department store." blag, wham, poof. i didn't get it. i wasn't going to be the owner of that garfield. i felt so awful i initially thought of foregoing the consolation prize. stupid snoopy plastic figurine. haay. i know. my garfield longing is out-of-this-world obsession. do you know that lately i emailed him this with the subject line: "here's a proof of how much i love you." tssk. i could just marry that cat. 6 comments|post comment

our secret eyecontact disclosed [20 Aug 2003|02:02pm] [ mood | amused ] ( see who's staring at me. ) 2 comments|post comment

late no more [19 Aug 2003|12:52pm] [ mood | ditzy ] [ music | novocaine for the soul by the eels ] prof de villa, who preempted his becoming the next big thing because of his development of the fuel cell technology, he with the widest grin and outstanding gorilla impersonations, yelled at us latecomers for being ah, "nuisances to the civilization" during yesterday's sts meeting. boy, did he fume, growling at us for not being early enough to catch the biowarfare filmshowing and yeah, therefore being "nuisances". of course past his exaggerated hysteria over our time orientation ("something's wrong in his world," hence a note passed to me by another co-latecomer), i had to stop myself from fidgeting because, with both arms raised, i am guilty as charged. i have been coming into this class thirty minutes before the dismissal. thirty minutes before the dismissal - what could be more shameless than that? and it's not as if prof de villa's a bad prof, you know. other than being waaay genius, he's a sweetie for conducting review classes before sts exams, of which an attendance means a whopping additional ten points for the exam proper. and he gave us a 1 for our report, for heaven's sake! so i suck. thank god for the bag of danish cookies that was hand-delivered to me after sts. the purple note that went with it: "sampot my labs, here's to 19 months of friendship! i love you so much. take care of yourself. stay strong. love, armi" just did all the wonders. 4 comments|post comment

damn this headache [15 Aug 2003|06:22pm] [ mood | sore ] [ music | dissident aggressor by slayer ] "well, i'm a hundred square yards sane." if there were such things as man-hours and light-years, surely there was foot-sanity. page 21, chapter 3, i never promised you a rose garden. brilliant as all hell. UP is a place where everyone could walk in, sit down and be. never mind if your hair's in an outright distortion, face starched with soot and grease, no front tooth, shirt in a disarray, and an appeal so prominently disturbing. yesterday at the shopping center i was seated across one, who was scraping coffee grounds from the nescafe sachet and munching them like potato chips. from time to time she - or he, it's really hard to tell - would eye the people passing by, her face expressionless, until she would go back to put the nescafe pack over her mouth and shake it furiously for the contents to pour out. she's been around the shopping center for a while now, and while yes, she looks a bit scary, reminiscent of semi-mad taong-grasa lounging along alleys, she seems harmless anyway. she insane? most probably. and because i've been seeing madness at a whole new perspective courtesy of this novel i'm currently reading, i looked at her yesterday and imagined how she looked at us. how she perceived that moment, the time and space she was at, if she was aware that i was juxtaposing her alongside deborah blau, protagonist of the story. i hoped she did have a world of her own, detached from her whereabouts, detached from our reality because it would've been cruel to be in a state of pellucid awareness wherein she would know she was a sorry sight, feeding herself with coffee crumbs for lunch. i even hoped she could make out roses and balloons from the people around her. and that in her consciousness, there was no up shopping center to begin with, no girl in a clandestine-but-obvious-anyway observation across her , only her own kingdom mushrooming with all things of her fancy. look who's talking. been a wacko myself lately: reducing myself to a crocodile in a game sally and i invented to inspire her in math, getting inside a balikbayan box and asking my brothers to push the box ala wagon, having emotional outbursts thanks to harrowing schoolwork, talking to my teddy bear fudge and trying to make my dog, diego, jealous over that. man. 3 comments|post comment

unravel [06 Aug 2003|04:47pm] [ mood | rushed ] oftentimes, the multitude washes me away until i get improperly displaced in a danky, sore space. but this guy. he singles me out and stashes me somewhere sweet and safe, out there in a place where he unravels me, peels me off skin by skin. i pray he never stops because i want him to see that all this time, he is the poetry inside of me. he runs in my bloodstream like little verses that arch in elaborate tenderness; my emily dickinson license. because we are in this never-ending progression, we can never be other than human beings whose existence has always been paralleled with the other. 462 comments|post comment

catch a butterfly [01 Aug 2003|06:24pm] [ mood | groggy ] [ music | ballbreaker by ac/dc ] was i exhausted. yesterday, glorietta and oakwood premises saw me clutching scripts, handing out 'imbestigador' stickers to passers-by, tailing the director all over, running from one place to another and the most fantastic of all, fanning mike enriquez (not being sarcastic, i like my boss). they call me a junior production assistant, an embellished term for the total errand girl. love this though. way better than sitting inside the cubicle and waiting for the phone to ring just so you could say that you've done something for your internship. anyway, so in this park in front of g4, that's where most of the shooting took place. one time when nothing was up for execution, i sat down and i saw two butterflies playing 'it' and allow me to borrow holden caulfield's signature declarative- it killed me. those winged buggies actually chasing and tagging each other as they were making their way upwards. i don't know if butterflies do this all the time in public but it was worthy of a wow on how they were like little yellow filmy flaps that snapped in and out. or if we want to get sporty, like pingpong rackets in action only there wasn't any ball in between. groovy. gradually though, they dissolved from my sight upon reaching the deck above starbucks - i never realized that butterflies could fly that high. which reminds me of the butterfly story sally and i acted out the other day. i was the red butterfly, she was the yellow one and we were running around her room flapping our arms/wings. she went up the bed, asked me to carry her, after which she squealed in childlike fascination, "i can fly! i can fly!" how can you not bow in awe for that? i love her more and more each tutoring day. 15 comments|post comment

and to the beast i love you [31 Jul 2003|11:39am] [ mood | nostalgic ] [ music | beast by wolfgang ] i miss wolfgang and basti artadi so much (understand that my passion for the band and basti artadi are two entirely different things hence the conjunction) and i long for those times that i would always be on a lookout for up diliman gigs that would show them in all their raucous gorgeousness. and because i have no other thing to say except well, that sally asked me what is life and i had to look for a children's dictionary to answer her because i don't have the tiniest inkling how to explain it to a six-year-old, let me just tell you about that one night that rocked my world extremely i could have just died that moment. ( dear haydee. i saw basti today, he's soo cute! ) i know i sound like a delirious fanatic and i am. remind me next time to post the picture that shows basti looking at ME. and speaking of pictures and me, i went bare shoulders, imeldific and all, together with the rest of UP-MCO people, in this photo exhibit we have entitled "X-Rated." the collective flesh creaminess is right there at first floor lobby, college of mass communication. 6 comments|post comment

coup's over [28 Jul 2003|12:15am] [ mood | relieved ] [ music | cartoon network ] therefore i can finally go home later! been here in laguna since last night and while my college bestfriend's been fab in welcoming me here, from her all-out whooping because of my videoke skills (baaaakitt labis kitang mahaaaal.....) to giving me extra cup of her fam's famous sunday chocolate shake, i have been jonesing to go home come afternoon. my domestic attendance has been quite erratic for the past few days and i was hoping that today i could make up for it. i just miss my family sooo much. i even planned to brave the edsa initially but well, the plan flopped and so, homesick but relieved, i'm still here, with my friend's pc all to myself, tv on, everyone asleep. sometimes i think i can suck the night whole with all of my unbelievable amount of hyperactivity at this time when most are rock-dead and dreaming. my coexistence with caffeine is laudable, and i love it because nights like this make for perfect journal moments. having the house all to myself, which equates to minimized human distraction, uncrowds those thoughts up in the head and sorts themselves in more visible queues. it's not that staying up late promises a vibrant consciousness, but you know, ideas and remembrance just happen. night-induced memory digging is always the way to go. in a little while, my friend's coming down from her one hour sleeping break. so much for this nocturnal contemplation talk and back to this grueling college element that is thesis. oh well. at least our concerns have swiveled from national security to graduation probability. post comment

[26 Jul 2003|02:54pm] [ mood | sleepy ] [ music | superstar by saliva ] i have just been drained and alarmed from reading UP center for women's studies' "gender violence: its socio-cultural dimensions." all those contemporary real stories on students by day, streetwalkers by night. society has it that the blame is hurled towards the prostitutes themselves because the choice to banner their bodies is theirs anyway. but know what, there could never be a room for abhorrence because what stands out from the true accounts is the pain and sympathy to these girls our age and younger, whose vaginas are feasted on by men - from the professional to the students, married, unmarried - just so they could send themselves to school and support their families. i hate this. student prostitution exists and it thrives on the most public of all cities, like cubao and pasay. and gma hails philippines as a strong republic? when even in the alleys of the metropolis, poverty has its claws bruising the very flesh of the young women? ahh the rant. i'm all getting hyped up by our feminist-oriented thesis proposal. last night i dreamt of some guy harrassing me and i woke up with that terrifying jolt. freakout. 3 comments|post comment

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