Hair comes Superman

There he is walking to and fro, telling everyone to do this and do that. Gosh. He really looks like that smallville guy… what’s-his-face?… his hair now, unmanaged, yeah like that smallville guy. Couldn’t agree more with von.

I remember one time back when I was a 3rd year college student, at 7:30 am, I would eneter the classroom (SS309) to be exact, the classroom where we once had all our classes. I would sit in the front, turn my head and study the physical features of my classmates as one by one they enter the classroom, so fresh and so clean. Their hair would be dried, not totally dried….air dried maybe…. Von would then have his grand entrance, with his exaggerated expensive shades and would start singing songs for each major. Edmund would then be “bosing2x”… ooh that sexbomb song annoys me. and to this guy-with-unmanaged-hair, he would sing that… some body save me”… oh yeah, Clark Kent, that’s the name. There are similarities. with his bone structure and with his hair now the number of similarities i can count grew more… plus his brown eyes…… i wished i’d be lana… and What am I thinking? ewww! I told my self. “your feeding his ego ging”. well, he can’t hear my thoughts anyway, I said to myself. Hmmm… ok so back then, while von sings, I will look at him-with-unmanaged-hair, looked at him with disbelief and disgust “Clark Kent?! as in Clark Kent?!!! the macho guy ini TV?!!! ikaw?!! No way! ” Not an inch, I then thought, Von’s vision must be tampered by his eyewear. and so without considering his (Clark Kent look a like) feelings I shout back “Smalville?! dili uy! yuck ganahan pud!”. And he smiled with that “unsaun-taman” expression. URGH! he really irritates me.

My reminiscing moment was cut short when he eyed me “Ging!! imo nang part!”

“ay tuod!” I quickly jolted from that aggies lobby benches, with the script in my hand and started my dialogue.

“wala pa gyapun nimo na memorize?” he asked in great disbelief.

“mamemorize ra lagi ni, promise” I lied. heheh

He then goes back and watch us act. The director of the play. No need to memorize things. He’s just watching us. and so I studied him. why slouch mehn? stand up straight, don’t let those long limbs dangle. You’re superman dammit!…. aww… look alike lang diay. There’s a difference. A really big difference.

Superman. yeah. hehehe. I remember my melancholy marathon. I made some deep literary piece bout him and that crusader girl. I made some really cool piece. Somehow I discovered right then and there that when I am disturbed or emotionally constipated, I dazzled in the open skies and become a poet. Oh so heavens grant me wearies that I may be constipationalized!. Hahaha. I could not let him know though. The ego of this man is quite irritating sometimes, for me. But on the other side, I secretly wanted him to and so I rely solely on his initiative or instinct so he can read what I write in this part of the internet world. But it was no use, won’t work even then and now. I found out that this guy has never owned a myspace account in the past 4 years… and basin diay… if—-

“Ging! Imo nang linya!” my coactors wtached me.

” Ayay! tulala!”

“sori gud” I said.

they are all staring at me, waiting for me to speak, and sooo…

“nganung ako? nganung gipatay ko nimo?…” I said my acting lines with passion as if know how it feels like to die.

and so my acting continues and so my pretensions continues. I’m quite better off without him snooping around these areas. He’ll never know I agree with Von. Yuck! ma feeler na dayun siya.

Turn off kaayu. Hahaha!

*this blog was published in my myspace account somewhen late january. I deleted it and so with all my feelings I decided to print this out and give this to him, (the director, ). But then when I saw him he already cut a portion of his hair. The bangs!!! tha bangs! he chopped his stupid-clark-kent-look-alike bangs!!

On our way out the liibrary, we then encountered a common friend who happened to ask him “giunsa nimo imong buhok?” and she starts laughing “mura ka’g katung sa apocalypto!” and she laughs a very hearty laugh almost crying by the way. And I too can’t help but see the similarities of his hair and that apocalypto kid, the manghuhula one. And I laughed too and he laughed at himself.

By the next morning he came and his hair is now very short… he chopped the rest of it…dismayed, I sigh to myself.no more Clark Kent…. I’m shallow…. But then oh well, he looks cleaner. But I didn’t like the hair because it is so MANAGED! I like ruffles on the hair, sort of like russel crow or clark kent bangs. blah! ehehehe….”I don’t like your hair,” my mind spoke as he was approaching me “I don’t like your hair!”

And so to end my turmoil, I told him everything, that I don’t like his hair and for him to understand me better, I made him read the printed blog. And he smiled and I smiled and I look at him and looked at his hair… suddenly I can’t explain why I suddenly liked the way he now looked.

somethings I can’t explain, myself in relation to his haircut…..

or is it really the cut?

Poor Fellow

Time: 12:30 pm.

Weather: Igang, Init.

Mood: Irritated and contemplative

 

 

I was in a Philippine Jeep, above average size one. I went in and sit on the middle part on the empty long bench (?) … is that what you call the one… ah basta kanang ingkuranan sa jip. Anyway, the jeep was empty, and probably seconds later, a man, about early 20s entered with a very big bag. And a woman was with him, and with her, a baby. Soon, snother entered, friend of theirs, a woman also in her early twenties with a barely two year old kid. She decided to sit in front of me at first, then suddenly changed her mind and sat in the same bench with me, not beside me but same bench lang. But the kid decided to stay where she originally chose to sit, right there in front of me and then this woman (in her early twenties probably) grab the child forcefully by his shoulders. Her fingernails digging on the kids shoulder. I watched the kid, he was indifferent. I was thinking he probably can’t distinguish what pain is and what pain is not. And so this woman grabbed him and they sat on the far end of the bench near the driver’s seat. “Pag-ingkod ra gud ug tarung, ayaw gara, ayaw’g gara ha” she told the child. What?! I could not believe she just talked to the child as if the child was same age as hers. Then the young couple (the one with a very big bag), actually it was the woman who said, “Nah, mugara gyud nah, kung ing-ana nimo pagka ingon”. Oh my goodness, I then look at the child, staring emptily at anything, just having this instinct to climb anywhere he can climb, not absorbing anything that these suppose-to-be grown ups are saying to him.

The mother of the kid then told the couple to look at the kid because she has to smoke, the other woman followed and give her baby to the another woman sitting in the front (probably, a friend of theirs too) and they decided to smoke for a while.

Inside the jeep, except for the woman in front, I was left, with that man, the kid and the very big bag.  I got nothing to do and so I observed the child. I suddenly missed Hannah, my niece. Then that man, wearing shorts, with hairy shaking legs (you know what mean) was texting and the kid climbed on the bench and stood up. The man, who was sitting in front of where the child was, tried to prevent the child from standing on the jeepney bench (?) and with the cell phone on one of his hand, he reached out his other hand and held the kid’s garters.

The mother of the kid then entered. Ana dayun ang lalaki “patutuya na siya”. And so the woman got a feeding bottle from her bag and the man went back to his texting. Asshole, I thought. The kid then tried to lie down on the jeepney floor. Hyper boy. The woman forcefully grabbed his forearm. With the size of her hand gripping on his small arm, and the force of the grip, I believe she could amputate her child right then and there.

The other woman entered and sat beside the man with shaking legs. She saw her friend struggling with the kid “patutuya na siya” she said. And the struggling woman replied, “gipatutoy bitaw nako, muhigda man sa salog” and she gave the child a pacifier. And the kid went on. He tried climbing the big bag, then the bench. “Hala, nigara na nuon” said the woman (not the mother) to the man and the man said, (his entire attention on the cell phone), “dong, ayaw pag ing-ana”. “Ngee, mutuo ba diay na kung ing-ana imong tono?”. The man seems not to hear her, his attention was to his 3 by 2 communication device.

 

The kid was referred to as “kana” and not a “siya”.

 

I looked at the woman. Wearing black sleeveless blouse, attempting to be sexy and attractive, she wears cheap make up. Looking at her face, she’s not at all that unattractive but her haggard face, the oil in her forehead and the misplaced strands of hair on her cheek, her flaking, brown skin, her unartful placing of make up can shield her beauty.

I looked at the other woman, struggling with the kid, who tries with all his might to get away from the grip of his mother. Her beauty is simple. She kept her hair but the harsh words and tone she uses to communicate with the child plus her ear splitting voice can completely eradicate all your belief that there is some beauty left in her.

The man, with butterfly hair, brown skin is still texting, shaking hairy legs, thinning slippers, a bobmarley-inspired anklet. I can’t see any amount good aura in the man. He seemed disinterested and irritated with the kid. He does not care, the perfect personification of a parasite of the society. I can’t even say he’s attracted to his wife or girlfriend. Urgh! Date2 sa Gaston, with all the hugs and stolen kisses with all the ice water and Lala fish cracker.

And here they are, with a kid, irritated, unattracted to their partners, smoking, texting, nearly tearing the kid apart, mistreating the child.

They seem not to care that the development of this child is so crucial. They seem to underestimate the importance of child caring. What are they so busy about? Looking for financial stability perhaps? Are they really? Didn’t they know? Adolf Hitler was once a mistreated kid…. Hahay… maybe they don’t.

I hated them.

I pitied the kid. These irresponsible grown ups would someday shape him into something like them. And soon he’d grow up like that man, slouching, texting with shaking legs.

Poor fellow.

God does not exist?

What would you do if you wake up one morning and find out that God does not exist?

This featured blog started all the fuss in my otherwise quite peaceful brain. It was a requirement for her Philo of Religion. The question was to be answered,.

I wanted to comment but then I got to sign up first and so I didn’t comment. I just directed the question at me instead.

A baffling question. It may seem.

Yeah. What would I do if I woke up one morning and find out God does not really exist?

Hmmmm…

I then laugh at myself. Why am I thinking of an answer to this question?

I don’t have the slightest logical evidence that He exist. How can I find something not existing one day, when I don’t even know if that something really (in common standards) exist in the first place? It’s a question of nothingness.

Assuming, I say I found out (that He does not exist), wouldn’t that assumption be inadmissible to human standards since His existence is deemed inadmissible (in common standard) long before?

The great scientific knowledge cannot prove that He does not exist, because it cannot prove in logical statement that He does.

But saying that He does not exist because it cannot be logically proven that He does, is an unscientific conclusion. Since by disregarding something because it cannot be proven is an “ad ignorantiam”. To make it more understandable, just because you cannot have knowledge of something that doesn’t mean that it does not exist. This is because the existence of anything is not dependent on your judgment or thinking diba?

And so to answer this question, If I wake up one day and find out that God does not really exist?

I say, I can’t, because this Being is beyond all my thinking.

something I learned from street food

The aroma of kwekkwek on my skin, on my hair, on my uniform, as I enter the campus, trying to avoid any human contact as possible. Sheilding myself from the obvious embarrassment of the kwek2 aroma, I try to be as distant to any moving life form as possible. My perfume, expensive, over powered by the breath of a five peso gut-on-a-stick. Urgh! nothing works. No amount of water, perfume, cologne could eliminate the mighty insense of kwek2. I then washed my face, stared at myself in the mirror. The horror, the horror.

I remember when the smell of kwek2 was a paradise to me. As I would stand near that green internet cafe waiting for a motorella ride, the air of frying kwek2 would pass through my nostrils. I will then inhale with delight, such a moving experience. Sensational work in the art of smell.

I then observed the kwek2 stall. The people in charge, the salespersons, I mean, dressed unneatly, their toenails filled with earth, clothes unpressed, hair unmanaged. The cart obviously not made to last for a year. And the jeepney, motorella and cars exhaust, amassing the stall, make u believe that the artful smell coming from that stall is a homogeneous mixture of flour ingredients and carbon monoxide. But what caught my attention were the crowding students who took every bite of kwek2 as if they were taping jollibee commercials: eyes half closed, savoring each hardened flour with pure delight. Wow, I thought, that must taste like heaven. With the aroma surrounding me, i was absolutely certain it was more than a gut on a stick.

Days went by, I did not try any of those. I haven’t tasted kwek2 all my life. And as I see it, it looked so good, smelled so good, remembering the eyes half closed of those kwek2-eating-students I decided kwek2will be a reward or something like that. Sort of a delayed gratification for me. I said if I get an A or an A- in a certain exam I will reward myself with that.

And so for 3days, I just took short glances on that obviously unregistered business establishment. The stall looked microbe infested but I did not care then. All my logic, stacked health knowledge were ignored for practically my nervous responses were all focussing on my sense of smell.

I think of it now. Disgusting!

The days of exam judgment day came. I got a B. Damn! B lang? that means no reward for me.

Oh well, so whatever. Nobody cares. And so together with my friend, I went there. Stepped out of XU gate, saw the stall… perfect. without care I grabbed my friend and went straight to that very clean” Gave my 15peso coins and got 3 sticks.

First peice of first stick… yumyum…. delisiyoso… second… third… mmm…. fourth piece…. hmmm… floury…. second stick with toyo na ni!!!!…. hmmm… ok siya…. floury….hmmm…

Oily… I saw the oil where the chicken .. I then look at the meat on the stick. OMG! is this even chicken?!!! what is this?!!!! This is chicken meat. This is chicken meat. told myself while staring at the greyish something surrounded by flours. Chicken?….on that last piece of meat, some juice peaking out… eeeewww….thinking all about the pieces I have already eaten, I wanted to puke….

I need oxygen. It was hard to breath. The horror. The horror. I could not even look at the stick in my hand. Its taste was bitter on my tongue… I’d wanted to puke. But must appear delightful as to not offend the sellers… my eyes wide eyes…. “I’m gonna blow!!!!!!!!!!”…..

I forced myself to hold whatever it is that’s in my stomach to prevent me from vomiting there on the crossroads of corrales. I held it in, drop the last stick to the garbage can and went to the first floor old library women’s comfort room…..

the horror. the horror…

you don’t know what you want till you have it.

what scares me, scares me

I was heading for the bookcenter this morning and I saw a high school friend. and for the first time I realized how mature his face turned out to be. I saw him sometimes in school, but then It was this day when I really saw him as some twenty yearold being. Dako na siya. I mean, do you (reader) ever get that feeling when reality slaps you in the face (through everyone’s faces) and tells you hey! you’re not growing any younger. My batchmates they’re growing. some of them horizontally. Scares me. It scares me. I always talk about growing old these days…. because I DON”T KNOW!!!! I can’t accept everything. it’s not a very nice thing to think that by next semester I will work!. I want to go to school, I want to enrol, have same classmates still. nonononononono. but I must. It scares me. my blockmates(seminarians), they’re going to theology, they invited me to be there when they make their vows… I don’t like everything. I don’t like this. I don’t want to be part of the employeessss I don’t want that! I don’t want to see my classmates grow before my eyes. I dont like that! I don’t want to leave my house. I don’t want to be independent. I don’t want to marry. I don’t want to be twenty one. I don’t want to be not wanting this. so much to be dreadful about. the future is so unknown. my last day of school happened last tuesday. the last of the lasts. I decided to keep in mind every single detail of that day. kay last nah. hmmm… kung buot hunahuna-un, I can still remember my first day of school sa grade one. because I decided to keep in mind every single detail
. there are so many things I don’t want. and then by next month I’ll be leaving and by everything… I don’t know. can’t leave the house I have been living in since time immemorial. this house watched me grow. sakit sa heart. to think that you won’t be waking up in the same house anymore. I won’t wake up with my sister whom I share room with since 1988. I won’t go to school anymore and meet Paul to have debate over coffee. wala nah! no more uniform. I don’t wanna go out of xavier because I am scared. no more coffee sa museum cafe. (cofee with oreo)… mehn. I am being childish. but I guess everyone is undergoing same worries sa ako. when they are confronted with a “must” confront unknown and let go of something known. My school life is over, said the exit interview lady and I didn’t like the aura her words brought to my ears.I want my parents, I told myself. I’m still a child despite everything I say. blah. maybe because I choose to be or it’s just that I don’t want to leave CDO. Ngitngit kaayu. Bayaw! beyond the seas…. bayaw! the chaotic crossing of words in my head. bayaw! ngitngit! bayaw! mingaw! hilak! pollution! ….huhuhuhu… kapoy kaayu mag hunahuna ug buhi sa imong kaugalingon.. Im working on an investment on some land somewhere out there …. and despite some predictable good source of income, what I can see in the future is myself, shedding tears because of the house I can’t leave. and within it…. everything.