I’ve read somewhere that beer stimulates mind to do something creative. Like what I’m doing now. I have to finish a paper for our PHist subject about the Filipino cultural values orientation. It would cost me a half of my finals exam grade if I don’t take this seriously.
Good thing one of my mom’s friends from Magnolia/San Miguel dropped by our house for a while earlier to give us lots of cans of Pale Pilsen and two bottles of strawberry jam.
I’m hoping I could finish at least a quarter of my paper before I go to sleep. This is due on Tuesday, geez. I can’t do this tomorrow because of church. I really need to find time and avoid procrastinating.
Like what I’m doing now.
I just wish that dad didn’t count the beers on the fridge. They don’t know I’ve been swiping alcohol things. I still don’t know how I could get rid off the cans tonight without them seeing these tomorrow. Hahaha! I can’t go out of the house now.
and sometimes it hurts.
I just joined the 100 Happy Days project and it’s my 5th day today.
I post the photos on my Instagram, by the way. Here are the captions:
If you’re interested in joining, you could visit 100happydays.com.
There. Follow me on Instagram! :)
It’s 12:30 in the morning. I’m wearing sunglasses. My skin looks fair in this photo due to the lamp in front of me. I’m studying for our bio and Phil hist exams later.
How about you?
I heard them muttering mockery and accusations
“No wonder she got raped, look at the way she drapes!”
as I was limping, staggering ‘cause it’s as if
their indictments were ammunition
too many for my flimsy body
striking my limbs in succession
until I can no longer get up,
get my head at least above the water
with the filthy words they fired to me,
the reality that I couldn’t bring back what had gone adrift.
"What happened to her?"
My neighbors who saw me grew up whisper,
“What happened to her?”
from a sweet feeble innocent-looking little daughter
“What happened to her?”
to a rather whiney and inebriated slut-looking teenager
“What happened to her?”
whom they think deserves the damage she now bears.
The man needs castigating not I
The man needs shaming not I
That man needs shackling to the memory of taking one’s sanity
out of her happy little box of juvenescence not I
I did nothing wrong, believe me
not even the decision to go home late
plastered enough to see things twisted
and in terrible case of vagueness
Freedom isn’t wrong, no
And if it is, then the world is a big damn jail
Now I feel like Jesus Christ
whom everyone wants to crucify
but carry His cross first to Golgotha
But Christ wasn’t wearing a fuck-me skirt
nor a grab-me tube top
Christ wasn’t wearing a pair of seductive slutty heels
And Christ wasn’t certainly drunk.
And I was, according to that man, asking for it.
I don’t know what part
of the two-letter-and-a-syllable word I uttered
as many as the stars twinkling that night
while you were busy trying to part my thighs
My pet understands ‘no’
Are you, my stepfather, lower than my poop-eating, barf-consuming dog?
But anyway, you still got on and humped me on
like you do to mom but your moans were louder,
not careful to wake anyone up, disturb anyone else
because it was late and nobody’s home but us,
nobody but us.
I had to stitch my wounds together
I had to fend for myself, become my own personal hero
I have only myself to save from this treacherous world
But there will come a time that I won’t flinch at your name
or be terrified by the sound of your voice
or the feel of your sloppy kisses on my neck
You don’t even have to worry about my
fingernails scraping your arms,
making them bleed
You won’t even hear me screaming for you to stop
because now I feel nothing
I have become numb, I have become dead.
You took me out of the water,
you are the reason this rose has wilted
And this rose would be the justification
you’d be spitting on your own grave.
Oh, mister! I have been longing for your painful death!
I have been picking out inscriptions
for your tomb since that day you
stripped me off my innocence.
I was thinking:
May the Lord bless your dick, you asshole!
by Yazhmin and Camille
for Spoken Poetry, Oral Comm
Now I was thinking of uploading the video of our performance here…
Most of my courses in school, if I really think about it and really refrain from procrastinating, can be passed with ease. All I have to do is memorize. And internalize concepts.
And I hate myself for not taking advantage of this. I could’ve had a higher GWA.
Perhaps this is because I couldn’t see what good it would bring me five years from now. Not that I know what would happen to me, it’s just… So I tend to think “Whatever. What am I gonna do with the parts of a plant in the future anyway?” and not take academics seriously.
I’m blaming the factors outside my mind, too.
And my will.
And my intellect for not being persuasive enough to move my will.
Good grades is not the basis of one’s knowledge, they say. However, good grades is a basis of one’s being responsible. That’s what my blockmate said who gets high marks.
Internal struggles are really the toughest.
Nope, the text didn’t touch the title.
So this is a thing now, huh? Naaah. I just want to appreciate the people I always spend time with by writing a paragraph or two about them. I guess I’ll be doing this weekly. Or anytime.
Camille has an incredibly loud and… what? wide voice? Is wide even an adjective for voice?
No, really, she has. When we first met on the first day of our classes in UST, she wasn’t even joining the conversation but she’s there; according to Gillan, Camille said she has a loud and wide voice.
But anyway, she couldn’t keep her thoughts inside her head forever. We got along smoothly I don’t even remember the starting point of our friendship. Maybe it was our discussions about books? Maybe. One time I really got surprised because she talked about her family especially her anguished thoughts about her brother. We weren’t even that close then—but of course, that moment told me that we were already that close.
She’s one of my best college mates. I could say that because I already know her pet peeves and fears and I got used to her whiney-ness. Hahaha! In some ways, we’re kind of alike. Or we became alike eventually.
She’s smart and funny although she doesn’t know she’s funny most of the time. She’s frugal—thank God! Camille is a very nice person although there are times, of course…
I’m glad I met a Journo like her.
is one of the reasons I fail to review for the exams the next day. I always say “After this movie, I’m totally going to study my notes.” or “I have to utilize my tita’s speedy internet connection and my laptop’s idle time while I study for the exams by searching for a film to download—” and spend the entire “study time” searching for movies, torrents and whatnot. Self-five!
But according to our very cute Anthro professor earlier, it is illogical to think that a material/non-material thing is the source of evil, or the reason one would do bad things; it is actually our will who controls that kind of stuff.
So boo you, my will.
Anyway, here’s an embarrassing fact about me: I wasn’t fond of movies. Was not. I find the endings rather predictable and so I get bored easily. But again, I’m trying to immerse myself now in the world of films because I think this aspect in life—if there are such things—is what I lack. Besides, I’m losing inspiration; what else am I gonna do? (Keep your smartass-y responses to yourselves.)
Here’s another fact: I hate myself for not liking movies before because I’m certainly missing a lot. There are great minds out there transformed into motion pictures waiting to get watched. There are great concepts, great arguments in this vast world to ponder upon.
I’ve been asking for recommendations lately and luckily, ate Chari (psychofied) has this to-watch films. If you have something to suggest, will you please hit me up?
I deleted my last post before this, about my Oral Comm final exam which is spoken word poetry and how I haven’t done anything about that yet, because that post was just nonsensical.
As nonsensical as this one.
So I was having trouble and difficulty writing a poem with someone. My mate Camille and I teamed up for this exam because a) Camille has a terrible and serious case of stage fright, b) I think it’s good to work with a partner for more creative juices to exploit, and c) I can’t leave my friend alone.
The first topic we thought was about murder, then earlier this morning I suggested the adult-kid thing, until I ended up very tired of thinking how this thing could work and messaged Camille I couldn’t do it anymore and so I guess it’s better if we do this individually—like breaking up with someone.
I guess poem is something one should do in his or her intimate alone time.
But she said no, she can’t go on the platform alone. And I knew she would say no. I told her I was already writing about rape and asked if she was okay with that. She was okay with that but she isn’t well-versed with the concept of rape culture. I proposed I’ll do the poem and she’ll revise and improve it. She said yes.
I thought our friendship’s gonna end or something.
I’m still working on it, finding the right words in the most isolated part of my brain. I wish I could do a poem that we could recite within three to five minutes. We still have at least a week to rehearse this piece.
On the other note, AB week is so much better than what we had last year. Props to ABSC and the people who worked arduously behind the scenes.
I was writing a kind of a film review about the film adaptation of Bob Ong’s first published book ABNKKBSNPLAko?! when I did something stupid to my laptop that made it shut down unexpectedly. You have no idea how frustrated I am right now. It was long and I wrote it earlier instead of doing school stuff and—what the. Bullcrap.
So here’s a picture of Pam, Lizbeth and me after watching ABNKKBSNPLAko?!’s Philippine premiere on February 5th at UP Film Center instead.
Here’s my one word review of the film: unsatisfying.
However, the cinematography is worth the applause. I only have issues with the screenwriter.