tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-512080707391141382024-03-06T03:27:15.892+08:00The Beginning Of A New Endingthe day I changed how my fate ends...Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07221825069339233343noreply@blogger.comBlogger86125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51208070739114138.post-79481455005756985682015-09-02T09:19:00.001+08:002015-09-02T09:19:05.636+08:00A Poem For The Ages<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<em>I miss the days when I was young. Inspired and ambitious. I wanted to change the world.</em></div>
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<em>I miss the days when I was innocent and naïve. Unyielding, uncompromising. I stood for what I believe in.</em></div>
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<em>I miss the days when I was stronger. Agile and functional. I went to all the places that I wanted to go.</em></div>
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<em>I miss the days when I was a man. Able to stand for my own, accepting my responsibility with pride.</em></div>
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<em>I miss the days when I was me. Shy and curious. Willing to learn and to try but to timid to move.</em></div>
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<em>I miss the days when I was with him. When it was all smiles and laughter. It was one the days that I can say I was happy. Those days are rare.</em></div>
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<em>I miss the time when I was able to make him smile. The sound of his laughter and the way his eyes disappears every single time. It was an achievement of the highest order.</em></div>
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<em>I miss the days when we fought or argued. Feelings were hurt but the honesty and love was there. It was one of those rare days that I could say, I was at least honest with myself.</em></div>
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<em>But most of all, I miss him. I miss his face, I miss his touch. I miss his kiss, I miss his hugs. I miss voice, I miss his mind. I miss his warmth, I miss his joy. I miss him so bad it hurts...</em></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07221825069339233343noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51208070739114138.post-81051509843541037332015-08-19T10:15:00.000+08:002015-08-19T10:15:22.894+08:00KMN<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I haven't written anything for a while. I mean to write but I just can't put pen to paper the way I used to be. And it's because I didn't want to write to begin with. I was under the impression that if I didn't write, then it'll just be inside me, and soon, it'll die a natural death. But the longer it goes, the more it corrupts everything in me. And I'm afraid that if I didn't do anything about it now, I won't be able to recognize myself the next morning.</div>
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<em><span style="color: red;">I made a mistake of trusting myself.</span></em></div>
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I've been in this world for more than three decades and I've seen a lot of things growing up. I even experienced most of those things. That's why I was pretty confident that I know everything there is to expect, and in hindsight, I did know. It's just that even though I knew what would happened, I still took the risk. I still gambled. And it resulted in something that I thought is no longer possible.</div>
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<em><span style="color: red;">I hate myself more than I could possibly hate myself for.</span></em></div>
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Who would have thought that someone as cynical, pathetic, pragmatic, pessimistic, and downright wasted as I am, that I could hope for something better for myself. I actually believed that there's a rainbow after this shitty storm that's currently drenching my life. I actually believed. I actually hoped. I actually saw redemption.</div>
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<em><span style="color: red;">Then I fell... hard.</span></em></div>
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It's nobody else's fault but myself. I allowed myself to feel something that I shouldn't in the first place. I opened myself up and brought down my walls. I showed my true self. And in return, I actually thought that I was doing the right thing. And no, I didn't do all of that because I already felt what I felt. No. I did that because I thought it was the right thing to do. Apparently, I was wrong. Because in doing so, I felt something.</div>
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<em><span style="color: red;">Goodbye is never easy.</span></em></div>
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I had to pull myself up. I had to turn my back away. I had to do something, anything, to avoid anymore pain. I could endure hurting myself, both physically, emotionally, and mentally, but I could never forgive myself for hurting the people that I care about. And so I have to leave. I had to say my goodbyes. Because staying will only mean hurting them. Yes, I know, leaving could hurt them, too. But the pain is lesser compared to my staying. Because I know myself. I'm an evil person. And I will not stop to get what I want as long as I am around. So I have to leave. I have to go.</div>
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<em><span style="color: red;">Redemption is not what I'm after.</span></em></div>
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It might sounded as a good deed, me leaving. Maybe good for the people involved but definitely not for myself. Because this here, leaving, it's killing me. Slowly, painfully. And something inside me dies in every passing second. When the clock strikes twelve, there will be nothing inside me anymore. Nothing to redeem. Nothing to live.</div>
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<em>I fell hard.</em> </div>
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<span style="color: red;">Now it's time to get up.</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07221825069339233343noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51208070739114138.post-37001029913797188782015-08-05T07:36:00.001+08:002015-08-05T07:36:55.956+08:00Finding Forrester<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<em>"...<span style="color: #3d85c6;">why is it the words that we write for ourselves are always so much better than the words we write for others?</span>..."</em></div>
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<em>"...<span style="color: #3d85c6;">no thinking, that comes later.</span>"</em></div>
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<em>"...<span style="color: #3d85c6;">you write your first draft with your heart, but you rewrite with your head</span>"</em></div>
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<em>"...<span style="color: #3d85c6;">the first key to writing... is to write, not to think</span>"</em></div>
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<em>"...<span style="color: #3d85c6;">writers write so readers could read</span>..."</em></div>
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These are the words of William Forrester, a fictional Pulitzer prize winning author played by Sean Connery on the movie "Finding Forrester". </div>
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There are loads more inspirational quotes from this movie, and I'm sure there are way better quotes out there from some other movies. But these words, his words, are the words that gives me motivation to write. These are the ones that wakes the blood inside my vein and pushes me to write. These words are also the reason why most of the time, I do not read my posts but once, just for the rewrite of the draft, checking for spelling errors. Other than that, I dare not touch what I've written, because they are from the heart - my heart. </div>
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And lastly, is says that we should write so readers to could read, well, that's the hope, isn't it?</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07221825069339233343noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51208070739114138.post-77533078714719039902015-07-28T07:26:00.000+08:002015-07-28T07:27:58.070+08:00"G"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It started great. People talking, chatting, being merry, and happy. Information was flowing, and people are getting to know one another. It was a great day.</div>
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<em> <span style="color: #6fa8dc;"> G is for Good, when everything falls in place.</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="color: #6fa8dc;"> G is for Great, when you are feeling awesome.</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="color: #6fa8dc;"> G is for God, when you see miracles at work.</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="color: #6fa8dc;"> G is for Grace, when you feel forgiving and kind.</span></em></div>
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Like any other time, a small group was formed. A group of like minded people, or so I hoped. A group of people that like each other, that sets to do more for one another and to those that they yet to embrace in their own circle. A promise of hope. It was a great day.</div>
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<em><span style="color: #6fa8dc;"> G is for Group, when you feel included and accepted.</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="color: #6fa8dc;"> G is for Guidance, when you feel inspired and mentored.</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="color: #6fa8dc;"> G is for Gallant, when you feel knightly and heroic.</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="color: #6fa8dc;"> G is for Gay, when you are happy in general.</span></em></div>
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As one would expect, it won't always be merriment and fun. There will be friction, there will be arguments. So rules were set, expectations were made, and one by one, the defenses of the people in the group, joined by their common likeness for one another, fell. It was a sad day.</div>
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<em><span style="color: #6fa8dc;"> G is for Gauche, when you showed your true self.</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="color: #6fa8dc;"> G is for Gratuitous, when you do things you do not want.</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="color: #6fa8dc;"> G is for Gambling, when you put everything in the line.</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="color: #6fa8dc;"> G is for Gruesome, when the situation turns from bad to ugly.</span></em></div>
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Smaller circles formed within the small circle. Talking behind someone's back became the norm. And the reasons and likeness for one another, were all but forgotten. Tensions occurred, and the group closed their circle from those others hoping against hope to be part of something revolutionary. It was indeed, a grave day.</div>
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<em><span style="color: #6fa8dc;"> G is for Grave, when there's nothing you can do about it.</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="color: #6fa8dc;"> G is for Grievance, when you feel sad and alone.</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="color: #6fa8dc;"> G is for Goodbye, when you're leaving everything behind.</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="color: #6fa8dc;"> G is for Gone, when there's no turning back.</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-small;">"...and so we go, to another place, another time. A place where we are safe, a place where we are fine. We will definitely miss those who let in our hearts, those who we gave our love, those who we gave our trust. But there is no turning back... there's no turning back."</span></em></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07221825069339233343noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51208070739114138.post-9701471002675751642015-07-24T05:53:00.000+08:002015-07-24T10:13:23.429+08:00Then And Now<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I half expected that something will change... that something can change. I was wrong. Or maybe, and this is me being hopeful, I just running out of patient and something will really change, it's just that it hasn't happened yet.</div>
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I failed miserably in my effort to revitalize my life. Add to that my effort in making this blog exciting was an epic fail. There's no one else to blame but myself. I made a choice, a poor choice, that led to my life being caught in a vicious cycle of despair-anger-hope-crash-despair, that there seems to be no end in sight. Which gave me an idea on how to post on this blog, moving forward. </div>
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<em><span style="color: #e06666;">'Ganito Ako Noon, Heto Ako Ngayon'</span></em></div>
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It will be a look on how I was before and how I am now, bearing in mind that the situation is the same as before. It'll be like, when I gambled before I felt no remorse, nor guilt, because it was a conscious decision that I made. That was before. Today, when I gambled, I felt shame and hate. I still made the decision to gamble but the proudness is no longer there. There, something like that. A point of comparison on a younger self, and a way to see if there was a lesson learned, or maturity of any kind. A form of self assessment, with hopes that in time, I will be able to say to myself, <span style="color: #3d85c6;"><em>'hah! look, I did that! A</em></span><em><span style="color: #3d85c6;"> form of redemption, </span></em><em><span style="color: #3d85c6;">a path to self reclamation, </span></em><em><span style="color: #3d85c6;">a beginning of change of how I change my fate ends.'</span></em></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07221825069339233343noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51208070739114138.post-1086556670205127682015-07-17T09:11:00.000+08:002015-07-17T09:11:13.468+08:00I Just Commited Murder<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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OK, just to clear it up, I actually, didn't kill anyone... <em>yet</em>.</div>
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Earlier today, I became a blood donor. I've always wanted to do it. That's why even though the schedule for our office blood drive was way off my office schedule, I made an effort to be there, just so I can give some of my blood away.</div>
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That's a good deed right? Well, I'm not entirely sure.</div>
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Before they took my blood, they asked a bunch of questions that I didn't answer with complete honesty. In short, <em>I lied</em>. That's how bad I want to experience this 'blood donation' thing. And in the course of doing so, I may have killed someone, in the near future.</div>
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One of the things that they asked was about medication. I told them it's been months since I last took one, but in reality, it's just been a couple of weeks. And it's not just any over the counter meds, they were antibiotics with penicillin content. They told me that I can't donate my blood until it's been a month from the last medication I took, so I lied. That means, there's a slight possibility that my blood still has some left over penicillin in them, and if the worse is to happen, that blood will be given to someone that's allergic to penicillin, boom, <em>instant death</em>.</div>
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I also lied about having any medical procedure. I had a tooth extraction recently, hence the reason for the medication. And in one of the question, they specifically asked about it because the anesthetic medication would take at least thirty days to circulate out of my body. And the anesthesia that I requested for my dentist to use why high grade, meaning it is definitely still in my system. Boom, <em>another instant death</em>.</div>
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Knowing the potential risk of killing someone with my 'bad blood', I still proceeded with the donation, without the knowledge of the PRC (Philippine Red Cross) or my office. The idea of killing someone was just so mundane for me,, when compared to finally experiencing the thrill of donating your own blood.</div>
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<em>Call me a psycho. Call me a killer. It just doesn't matter.</em> </div>
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I'm such an evil person :)</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07221825069339233343noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51208070739114138.post-81827046707947715032015-07-16T09:40:00.000+08:002015-07-16T09:40:25.882+08:00Lesson Well Learned<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I reached out to my mentor last week. I still haven't heard back from him. I hope he's fine.</div>
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I've been bothered by a question that I wanted to ask him. I wanted to know why, in all the times that we were together, talking, sharing, learning, that he never shared or showed his own personal problems, not even once, to me. I only realized this quite recently, which means, that in those years that past when he was teaching me, I never once cared for him. I was a little shit of a git that only cared for myself. </div>
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I wanted to ask him why he never did share, not including his sexual innuendos and adventures, his own humanity. I was left wondering why? Was it because he thought that I will lose some of my respect for him if I see him as a normal person? Did he feel that by sharing his own problems, that it will take away the spotlight from my own issues? Or was it as simple as he didn't trust me enough to share his own burdens?</div>
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I wanted to know. I needed to know. Because right now, being as stubborn as I am, I went and tried to become a mentor myself. And thinking that not sharing my own problems to those who look up to me, is taking away something from that mentor-mentee relationship. But my problem is, it's not working. Not one bit.</div>
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So I guess, I got the answer for myself. That as a mentor, it's my job to help those who needed guidance. It's not part of my job description to share my own follies to them, because gods know that they are already stressed enough with what they are carrying. As the adult and the person with the most experience, I should have kept my own issues to myself. Doing so, would highlight the issues that needed to be addressed. Not my issues, but theirs. Because as a mentor, as a guide, as a muse, it is these kids' future that's more important. Not ours, and definitely, not mine.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07221825069339233343noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51208070739114138.post-2376875010453549622015-07-14T07:20:00.000+08:002015-07-14T07:20:46.888+08:00Another Boring Day At The Office<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Another boring day in the office. I was browsing 9gag.com when I came across this post:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF6aCRPq2NtKqLKkNVclzIFWbNRNmrKVn5cxGrCDQivAA7AoF4a71eDDwicbBz0mtB5CUc0xjeU-70AxDcNjyYAmyNcwsJ5ROEK4uffkCSiwMlROkqcvqcdgQ4PJxqeBWJpckMaEH5xA/s1600/9gag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF6aCRPq2NtKqLKkNVclzIFWbNRNmrKVn5cxGrCDQivAA7AoF4a71eDDwicbBz0mtB5CUc0xjeU-70AxDcNjyYAmyNcwsJ5ROEK4uffkCSiwMlROkqcvqcdgQ4PJxqeBWJpckMaEH5xA/s400/9gag.jpg" width="262" /></a></div>
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The first point touched too many nerves for my liking but I kept reading, because no matter how I feel about this post, it has a ring of truth in it. However, as one commenter expressed, words are easy, action is tough.</div>
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Numbers two to four is easy. I don't give a fuck about what people think even before when I was in school. That's why I don't have friends growing up. But whatever suffering and pain I've experienced before, it's all gone now, which proves number 3. And I think it's common knowledge that we're in charge of our own happiness, so that's a no brainer.</div>
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I would love to make peace with my past. I just can't. I don't think it's possible in my current situation. Number three says that the pain I inflicted on others would have already passed, given ample time, so the knowledge behind it is that we should forgive ourselves for our sins, I should forgive myself. Tough luck. If I do that, then there's a possibility that I will do the same thing to someone else. I'd rather suffer.</div>
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It's hard not to compare my life with those that's enjoying the fruits of their labors today. I tried not to compare. I tried not to look. But it's really trying. Knowing what I know, it just makes the first point so darn tough! I guess, we can connect number five and six together. Comparing comes with thinking. Over thinking that is. And I'm prone to that. I have to keep my mind in check to stop it from wandering. Another uphill battle but winning is possible. The trick is not to think. </div>
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And the last point. Smile. Laughter is easy but smile isn't. We smile because we're happy. We smile because we're at peace. It's hard for someone as conflicted as I am. But soon, I will smile, too. It's promise that I made to myself.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07221825069339233343noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51208070739114138.post-850199410734385102015-07-10T07:06:00.000+08:002015-07-10T07:07:42.151+08:00Bored As F--?!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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</div>
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I've been in the BPO industry for more than a decade but I still haven't climb the ladder of success. I guess, moving from one company to the next is not a bad precedent. That, and my attendance issues.</div>
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</div>
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I know my problem and that problem is myself. I don't think I have the right attitude. Plus, I get bored quickly. As my previous boss would always say, I'm a walking proof that talents are wasted with aimless people. I have the talent, I know how to use them, but for some reason, I choose not to.</div>
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</div>
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Oh, I know I'm good. Actually, better than good. Let's say, for modesty sake, that I'm above average. But that doesn't mean I'm not expendable. I've proven that quite often enough to my own detriment.</div>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that my current job sucks. It's freaking boring. There's no advancement of knowledge and the pay is just enough to cover my bills. I could leave, yes, but after facing so many rejection in these past months, I think I'll lick my wounds for now, and settle into this job. After all, I can blog while waiting for my workload. It's just that it's so boring.</div>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So boring, in fact, that I brought my origami papers at work so I can do origami whenever the boredom is almost choking me to death. Most of the time though, I surf the net for stuff. Did you know that one of the biggest/largest bat in the world can be found here, in our country? The species <em><span style="color: #9fc5e8;">Acerodon jubatus</span> </em>also known as <strong><span style="color: #ffd966;">giant golden-crowned flying fox</span></strong>, is endemic to our country but is nearing extinction due to deforestation and hunting. All of that I found out because I had to much time on my hands.</div>
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</div>
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Another thing that I've been doing is scanning the world wide web for one of my long lost blog. I wrote something back in 2007 when I was in the process of withdrawal from the blogging world but forgot what or where I wrote it. It took me a good two days to find them. 'Them' because I actually found two. One that I wrote back in 2007, and the other one, back in 2009. </div>
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</div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-size: x-small;"><strong>Please note that they are not so safe for work.</strong></span></div>
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<br />
</div>
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<a href="http://thedarklordstrikesback.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #a64d79;">The Dark Lord Strikes Back</span></a></div>
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<span style="color: #a64d79;"> </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://thedarkroomreturns.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #a64d79;">The Dark Room Returns</span></a></div>
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</div>
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Reading them almost gave me cancer. The grammar sucks, not that I'm perfect now, but knowing that I wrote them and that I can't edit them anymore (I don't know the username and password for them) makes me cringe. However, that doesn't mean that I'm not proud of my work. I am. After all, it shows my psyche during those turbulent years of my life.</div>
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</div>
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Well, that's it for now. I'm a little beat because of something that happened last night that disappointed me. Tomorrow, when I can feel a little more sunshine on my face, maybe I'll do a retro post for all the Project 360 that I missed and the two Origami Tuesdays that I didn't post. Well, maybe.</div>
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</div>
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Cheers!</div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07221825069339233343noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51208070739114138.post-87487809375617457052015-07-07T09:55:00.000+08:002015-07-08T06:00:50.009+08:00So What?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #3d85c6;">I was about to post the continuation of my sad story but decided against it. Though I already typed close to 200 words, I scrapped everything and went with this post instead. Because after everything is said and done, I can't changed the fact that I failed. That I relapsed into my gambling ways. That I've lost my entire paycheck in one sitting. That I've ruined my weekend getaway with boyfie. That, I now have no means to pay my bills or even buy food. Those are the facts and they are indisputable. But then again, so what?</span></div>
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</div>
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<em><span style="color: red;">So what if I failed? So what if I lost?</span></em></div>
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</div>
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<span style="color: #3d85c6;">At least I tried.</span></div>
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</div>
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<em><span style="color: red;">Now what?</span></em></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
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<span style="color: #3d85c6;">Now it's time to move on.</span></div>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #3d85c6;">The Sun still shines right? I'm still breathing. I can still fight.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #3d85c6;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #3d85c6;">I might have lost this battle. But I will win this war.</span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07221825069339233343noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51208070739114138.post-63362369722504126812015-07-04T14:40:00.004+08:002015-07-04T14:40:41.588+08:00Something To Write About<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It's been a while since I've written something here. In all honesty, I was avoiding it. I was afraid to write it. I was afraid that it will just bring me more stress than what I'm already feeling. But I was told that I should write it somewhere. That in some way, it will help. So I thought, if I'm going to write something, somewhere, it might as well be here.</div>
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There's no other way to say it, so here it is. I'm a gambling addict. And recently, I relapsed. And no, this is not the first time it happened. What I'm afraid of is that this might not be the last.</div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
It's been years since I gambled. I lost nearly everything. My life savings, my then partner's life savings, my job, my friends, and almost my life. I didn't stop even after I was thrown out of the house that I was living in and had to go live in the streets for a week, begging friends for alms just to get by. Only after incurring a debt in the gambling house that I was frequenting, that I had the sense to stop. But it wasn't easy. I had to handcuff myself to my bed post just to fight the urge to go look for another place to gamble.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I was, for lack of better term, sober, for about two years. That was two years ago. The urge is always there but I was able to keep it at bay. I was able to keep it in check. It helps that I know where all the gambling houses are in my area so I know which streets to avoid. I do not want to test temptation. I might not be able to fight it. But as I said, that was two years ago. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Because two years ago, boyfie, together with one of his best friends, decided to go to a casino. He knew that I was a recovering gambler but we went nonetheless. I knew it was somewhere that I shouldn't be but my pride got the better of me. I needed to be a supportive boyfie. I wanted to show him that I trust him, that I believe that he will keep me safe and in check. After all, we did agree that this is just a one time thing. Or so we thought. We went to that casino, probably, three or four more times. Each time, we lost but we exchanged it for the fact that we had fun and that we were spending it together.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
After those rendezvous, I started walking the same streets that I used to walk. I thought, if I can control my gambling with boyfie, then there's no harm. As long as I limit myself to a certain amount, it won't harm anyone. And besides, if I win, then everybody will be happy. Boyfie doesn't have to know. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
A few hundreds quickly became a few thousands. After a week, I was already losing my entire paycheck. It was hell afterwards. Some of my plans with boyfie was cancelled due to lack of finances on my side, I ended up borrowing heavily again, and boyfie became suspicious. I lied about where the money went but I know he knows. And so we fought.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
After that fight, I stopped. the next few months were great. I was able to do everything that I was supposed to do. Boyfie was happy, I was satisfied. But the urge is still there. Always lurking. The pull of false hope, that 'if I win' thinking is always in my mind. I had to cuff myself again to my bed. And for a while, it worked.</div>
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<br /></div>
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to be continued...</div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07221825069339233343noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51208070739114138.post-55324986075257217712015-06-29T23:16:00.000+08:002015-06-29T23:16:31.528+08:00P360 - Day 006<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpUqJqYNY1683zPjZ-cIoJnUGQy3mHxBDsZoXlDdAiPZQHb096Z7-A4_6EBB3dGHJ3pa2j6eBtWUXztuzu7u31ftGksldTRWYsJt2RF4_ZQoUQfwtPiMoQa6QTnzzdNOs_TB3Fe5lQZA/s1600/d006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpUqJqYNY1683zPjZ-cIoJnUGQy3mHxBDsZoXlDdAiPZQHb096Z7-A4_6EBB3dGHJ3pa2j6eBtWUXztuzu7u31ftGksldTRWYsJt2RF4_ZQoUQfwtPiMoQa6QTnzzdNOs_TB3Fe5lQZA/s1600/d006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpUqJqYNY1683zPjZ-cIoJnUGQy3mHxBDsZoXlDdAiPZQHb096Z7-A4_6EBB3dGHJ3pa2j6eBtWUXztuzu7u31ftGksldTRWYsJt2RF4_ZQoUQfwtPiMoQa6QTnzzdNOs_TB3Fe5lQZA/s1600/d006.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpUqJqYNY1683zPjZ-cIoJnUGQy3mHxBDsZoXlDdAiPZQHb096Z7-A4_6EBB3dGHJ3pa2j6eBtWUXztuzu7u31ftGksldTRWYsJt2RF4_ZQoUQfwtPiMoQa6QTnzzdNOs_TB3Fe5lQZA/s320/d006.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: red;">'Not So Serious'</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #c27ba0;"><i>I spent the entire day cooped up in my room, hugging the bear that boyfie gave me while savoring the last hours of my rest before going back to work. It's been a total waste of man hours yet for some reason, I feel that it's not a waste at all. That for one reason for another, I actually achieved something. What's that though, I do not know. What I do know is that today was a good day for not being serious.</i></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07221825069339233343noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51208070739114138.post-65514538163189738192015-06-28T23:57:00.001+08:002015-06-28T23:57:39.449+08:00P360 - Day 005<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVeSWPVvtHuNGYoZvNSUAYMe_ye2G7ttIgDXK4zTDedxgGOetqmsyzEUcmB8OrsbKqms3aVC9G9MYFo6BsO8DUZ54s-cBI7nWvohG67S6Ax3IoOPHj25hny5usFj-jQDBnJOLCtQhNrw/s1600/d005.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVeSWPVvtHuNGYoZvNSUAYMe_ye2G7ttIgDXK4zTDedxgGOetqmsyzEUcmB8OrsbKqms3aVC9G9MYFo6BsO8DUZ54s-cBI7nWvohG67S6Ax3IoOPHj25hny5usFj-jQDBnJOLCtQhNrw/s320/d005.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: red;">'Sundate'</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #a64d79;"><i>It's always been one of my dreams to have a lazy Sunday with boyfie. Just lounging in a sofa, munching on sandwiches we made, while watching TV. Who would've known that one of those three would happen today?! We made sandwiches together!</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #a64d79;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #a64d79;"><i>Yay!</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #a64d79;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #a64d79;"><i>Now, if we could just find a place were we can lounge in safety and discreetly, that will be awesome!</i></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07221825069339233343noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51208070739114138.post-58227758890745175982015-06-27T23:12:00.001+08:002015-06-27T23:12:54.955+08:00P360 - Day 004<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7OXSPXDVKA7oQHHgoigS1Gm7h1RDPe_SzAJolpaXk6bkVNbB9rQiD7dOQuPu3PaF6sJMDAnO5T7CrHRNQEWVF__iv1In4SdN6E0gbqP47BqxuT1C1HPpDbmf5Dxrx1ftSfr3IMErbyg/s1600/d004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7OXSPXDVKA7oQHHgoigS1Gm7h1RDPe_SzAJolpaXk6bkVNbB9rQiD7dOQuPu3PaF6sJMDAnO5T7CrHRNQEWVF__iv1In4SdN6E0gbqP47BqxuT1C1HPpDbmf5Dxrx1ftSfr3IMErbyg/s320/d004.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: red;">'Love WIns'</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Earlier today, it was a momentous event for our brothers and sisters in the United States of America. The Supreme Court of their land declared that banning same sex marriage is illegal and unconstitutional, thereby saying that anyone, straight, gay, lesbian, anyone can be married. Because marriage is not about procreation, it's about love.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
There's a case filed in our very own Supreme Court asking it to declare our country's Family Code, the very same code that declares marriage is only between a man and a woman, for the interest of procreation, as illegal and unconstitutional. If this happens, then it will open up the field for sweeping changes in favor of the LGBT community that until now, is asking our government to pass a law that criminalize discrimination against us. Currently, there's no law that protects us. Just morals and common respect.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The fight is far from over, but we are making strides. Ultimately, everyone knows, love always win.</div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07221825069339233343noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51208070739114138.post-49581812778700853742015-06-27T05:05:00.000+08:002015-06-27T09:37:51.392+08:00Overdue (Re)Introduction<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Hello hello hello!</div>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I've been planning on introducing myself, yet again, but there's been a lot of things that's going on recently that I had to prioritize. That being said, even though this post almost didn't make it to this blog today, I promised myself that today is the day that I put this here.</div>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
What is 'this' exactly? 'This' is a post containing information about yours truly, conducted in an interview fashion (by myself as well, such a loser!) in order to bring some semblance of order to this blog. So without further ado, here is my stunning, provocative, extremely overrated, self interview!</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: red;">Hi, please tell us your name, age, location, occupation, and to those who believes in astrology, your star sign.</span></div>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<em><span style="color: #c27ba0;">I'm JeKi, not my real name of course. 32 years old, not too old, not too young. Lives in the 'garbage city' part of the metro. Works as a callboy at night in one of the disputed areas between Makati and Taguig. I'm a Sagittarian.</span></em></div>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: red;">Why JeKi?</span> </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<em><span style="color: #c27ba0;">JeKi is a word play, combining my name and my boyfie's name. That's also the name of our dog.</span></em></div>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: red;">Tell us more about your boyfie.</span></div>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #c27ba0;"><em>Boyfie's hot. Obviously. You know me, I won't settle for anything less. But seriously though, in more than two years that we've been together, he's been the rock that anchored my boat to make sure that it survives the storm that I'm currently in. But enough about him. This post should be about me. I'll let him answer questions about himself in a post dedicated to him.</em></span></div>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: red;">That's nice and sweet. If he's your rock, what are you to him?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<em><span style="color: #c27ba0;">His ass? Lelz, I kid. I would like to believe that I'm his partner, in all sense of the word. But you better ask him when you get the chance to interview him.</span></em></div>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: red;">Alright, tell us something about yourself that you haven't shared to anyone, including this blog, that you think is interesting and worthwhile.</span></div>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<em><span style="color: #c27ba0;">This one is tough. I pride myself as an open book, so all that I can think of right now are things that I've already shared with someone. So let me just share that very few people knows about me - I've been studying how to play a violin. It's both hard and expensive but whenever I see <a href="https://www.youtube.com/user/JuNCurryAhn" target="_blank">JunCurryAhn</a>, I can't help but be inspired.</span></em></div>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: red;">Violin huh? I thought you are not a musically inclined person?</span></div>
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</div>
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<em><span style="color: #c27ba0;">I am not musically inclined but violin players are so hot. I mean, violins are so powerful and flexible that it seems all encompassing, it's transforming.</span></em> </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: red;">Wow. Alright. You like violins and violin players. Besides those two, what other things do you like?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<em><span style="color: #c27ba0;">Movies, TV series, Online games, Books, Board games, geeky stuff.</span></em></div>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: red;">Describe your normal day.</span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="color: #c27ba0;"><em>I wake up, prep up, go to boyfie's house, if it's a workday, we'll go together since our offices are just near each other, if it's a rest day, we'll just hangout. Then go home, either play online games or read a book. Sleep. Repeat.</em></span></div>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: red;">And since this post is already too long, this is the last question for now. Why write? Why blog? What do you get from doing it?</span></div>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<em><span style="color: #c27ba0;">I write because I need to write. Writing is an outlet for me. Thoughts that I can't express or say, I write. It helps me cope. It allows me to be the person that I need to be. And I do it here because my handwriting sucks. As my grade school teacher once said "I don't write, I create art"</span></em></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<em><span style="color: #c27ba0;"></span></em> </div>
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<em><span style="color: #c27ba0;"></span></em> </div>
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">There we have it. Finally finished with a 'short' reintroduction. Until next time. </span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07221825069339233343noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51208070739114138.post-52019277521370622532015-06-26T19:03:00.001+08:002015-06-26T19:03:54.955+08:00P360 - Day 003<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #a64d79;"><i>"...there are words we mean to say, but we can not say, so we write them. but once written, we realize, they are not for public consumption, they are, your inner most thoughts, they are your soul, your heart. but what's written can never be undone, it can never be really erased. because even if we erase, edit, write over, or even delete what we've written, the paper will always remember. it will always hold its history silently, but it knows, because it is your soul that it held within its breaches. it is your heart that it felt. beating. bleeding. alive.</i>"</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07221825069339233343noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51208070739114138.post-91708294256946866372015-06-25T18:54:00.001+08:002015-06-25T18:58:33.895+08:00P360 - Day 002<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #a64d79;"><i>another day came and went.. </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #a64d79;"><i>full of empty conversations...</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #a64d79;"><i> </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #a64d79;"><i>and as I lay my head to rest, </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #a64d79;"><i>I keep glancing, I keep hoping... </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #a64d79;"><i>that maybe, somehow, someway...</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #a64d79;"><i>a conversation will begin... </i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #a64d79;"><i>one of substance, one of heart and soul... </i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #a64d79;"><i>for my day was filled with empty conversations... </i></span></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07221825069339233343noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51208070739114138.post-74087914696860526422015-06-25T07:58:00.001+08:002015-06-25T07:58:12.403+08:00Sensing Senses<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It's no secret that those who loves movies also loves TV series. OK, not all. But I'm certainly one of those whose in the 'love' category. That's why whenever I have spare time, I scan torrent sites for new series that I can binge watch on a weekend. And I found one very exciting new series that I finished watching last weekend. All 12 episodes in one day. I know, noob. But hey, that's all they have on their first season!</div>
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I like stories where the protagonist is actually bad. Not "good bad", but "bad bad" (<em>Frank Underwood</em>) yet they're like unicorns so I had to settle with the "good bad" characters - <em>House</em>, <em>Backstrom</em>, <em>the Winchesters</em>, <em>Patrick Jane</em>, to name a few. And now, we can add a whole bunch of people, eight to be exact, to this "good bad" people. They are the <em>Sensates</em> (Sense8 is a series from Netflix)</div>
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According to Wikipedia, the plot revolves around eight strangers from different parts of the world who suddenly become mentally and emotionally linked. The show aims to explore subjects that its writers felt science fiction shows, at least ostensibly, tend to ignore or skim through<sup> </sup>such as politics, identity, sexuality, gender and religion.</div>
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I really didn't care for any of that because the first episode threw me on a loop because there's so much happening that I wasn't able to understand anything (I watched it while playing online games so my attention was split in half) but everything changed when I saw this guy.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfMl5hvxnlH_43K0gEQvmfdzxYtlX8nNVXq8ATTl_762BF83yoNI-b55dd6n6byw86vGRIOQ48VbfHB4nBg9Y9tjMa-f8KS29-I6PH4ndZvF1RrHCOwRK8o43oUJ1SlY74ZPvX6Ni1Xw/s1600/will+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfMl5hvxnlH_43K0gEQvmfdzxYtlX8nNVXq8ATTl_762BF83yoNI-b55dd6n6byw86vGRIOQ48VbfHB4nBg9Y9tjMa-f8KS29-I6PH4ndZvF1RrHCOwRK8o43oUJ1SlY74ZPvX6Ni1Xw/s200/will+3.jpg" width="132" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE0FrCbCMgDOd5CJthQ92NaxpeAZ2BUGTtIedAr52QmYOb3UhE3NQC5E4UzhWZZbFezNqtmgs4KUYjx_EGEgSBQhDBZrFy18Dzq6z403lxdQhVuDs52rPfM9jScw4jwwBW06kiAyjzaQ/s1600/will+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE0FrCbCMgDOd5CJthQ92NaxpeAZ2BUGTtIedAr52QmYOb3UhE3NQC5E4UzhWZZbFezNqtmgs4KUYjx_EGEgSBQhDBZrFy18Dzq6z403lxdQhVuDs52rPfM9jScw4jwwBW06kiAyjzaQ/s200/will+2.jpg" width="131" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyCtq8oFxjppmrcf-Xp0tHjMq1_pjKDrVigA0Q-fe8G-dompwoZ5aojn2hrXCx_sO8RdCL_EkwCAUjUThhmgMjAcgVb7lolZvzxWJaQXmaUM8V-o-5fYhxMGCbXOI8kVRoyKpJkstLew/s1600/will+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyCtq8oFxjppmrcf-Xp0tHjMq1_pjKDrVigA0Q-fe8G-dompwoZ5aojn2hrXCx_sO8RdCL_EkwCAUjUThhmgMjAcgVb7lolZvzxWJaQXmaUM8V-o-5fYhxMGCbXOI8kVRoyKpJkstLew/s200/will+1.jpg" width="147" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #6fa8dc; font-size: x-small;">He's Brian J. Smith and plays Will Gorski, a Chicago police officer and one of the Sensates, and is currently the object of my sexual desire. I mean, who wouldn't right? Just look at how he's biting his lips, rawr!</span></div>
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Then there's this guy. He reminds me of someone I know. I'm not into beards and hairy icky stuff but this guy just blew my mind. I guess, he's the exception to my rules. He's hot!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu3WdmcKPgNj89mScMQ6XZpxeZrHgm2b7jxDXqdwOgEWc4HiX55uMsp133WFdb_gS9oK-NCD8r8RT_-9MLLDrpeNhIFzMlpvhAwf_N66TB8dpGgn_FIoDTt1PGUQsadclZecunG0Awtw/s1600/hernando.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu3WdmcKPgNj89mScMQ6XZpxeZrHgm2b7jxDXqdwOgEWc4HiX55uMsp133WFdb_gS9oK-NCD8r8RT_-9MLLDrpeNhIFzMlpvhAwf_N66TB8dpGgn_FIoDTt1PGUQsadclZecunG0Awtw/s200/hernando.jpg" width="142" /></a> </div>
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<span style="color: #6fa8dc; font-size: x-small;">He's Alfonso Herrera, he plays Hernando, Lito's (another Sensate) lover. Yup, he's gay in this series and there's some NSFW actions that just blew me away. He's on screen chemistry with Lito is just pure magic. If there's one reason to watch this series, it's the Lito x Hernando love team! I'm already a fan!</span></div>
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Ahem. Alright. You got me. This is not a review. I just wanted to share this gorgeous guys here (as if this blog is not gay enough LOL!) I'll have the full write up about the series next week :D</div>
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But seriously, download and watch the series. It's entertaining.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07221825069339233343noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51208070739114138.post-88184073696310907512015-06-24T14:31:00.000+08:002015-06-25T03:02:31.342+08:00Papers and Projects<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Sorry about the ruckus yesterday. There was just some things that you have to get out your chest for you're afraid that keeping it in any longer could result to a serious explosion. But, enough of that. Let's go back to the regular programming.</span></div>
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<i><span style="color: white;"><span data-dobid="hdw"><b>o·ri·ga·mi</b> </span><span class="lr_dct_ph">(ôrəˈɡämē/)</span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: white;"><i><span style="color: white;">n - </span></i>the Japanese art of folding paper into decorative shapes and figures.</span></i><br />
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My love for origami started with my dad.<br />
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When I was a kid, I was very envious of those kids flying paper kites. I would always bug my dad to make me one to which he will always drunkenly reply "go do it yourself". It's funny how dad can be sometimes. So, I grew up not knowing how to make one. It's sad, I know. What's sadder still, is that I never flew one. Not even to this day. Something that I will remedy before the year ends.<br />
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Now even though that my dad didn't teach me how to make a kite or even fly one, he did teach me how to make paper airplanes. He showed me three different ways in making them and more ways in making them fly. He even taught me how to make a plane drop a "bomb". Those were good times. That's why whenever I can, I make paper airplanes and make them fly. It's a reminder of the very few moments in my short childhood that I can call "happy".</div>
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Which brings me back to the topic of my post today.</div>
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From paper airplanes to dragons. How time flies. I guess you can say that my very first origami was the paper airplanes that I made growing up. Add to that, the paper boats my brother and I crafted so they can float in the flood that usually occupies our living room during rainy seasons. I wish I could've saved all those paper planes and boats. What memories and stories they could have told. Alas, we can only move forward. And so onward we go.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXievHJP9GxIMKXttfePJhQvoml9dfJpQsE8ZdpU1u1neXBuBNm1TwNT7-QmgXuFzzMSMYPlmP2ih2QeHUNQd1S5r6Rlzmv7fM6TP6GkOP_TekSRIjabmIpL4v9WBrypmLH3V-NYoeZQ/s1600/daso.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXievHJP9GxIMKXttfePJhQvoml9dfJpQsE8ZdpU1u1neXBuBNm1TwNT7-QmgXuFzzMSMYPlmP2ih2QeHUNQd1S5r6Rlzmv7fM6TP6GkOP_TekSRIjabmIpL4v9WBrypmLH3V-NYoeZQ/s320/daso.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i><span style="color: #cc0000;"><span id="goog_811760187">I followed the instruction of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kUsxMXwCW8A" target="_blank">Jo Nakashima in his YouTube video</a> to make this creation. It was tough but it was very enjoyable. The background image is a wallpaper that I got from <a href="http://hdw.eweb4.com/out/1098846.html" target="_blank">here</a>, I then placed the origami in front of my laptop screen to create the image.</span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">One of the things that I mentioned in my previous post are the projects that I intended to start in this blog. This is one of them. "Origami Tuesday". I know, it's no longer Tuesday. I had to push this post to this day to accommodate my ranting. Hopefully, this is the start of a continuous project that I can do in a weekly basis, at least until the end of the year.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">The other thing that I wanted to start is Project 360. It's a concept I first learned during my Flickr days. One picture that represents your day, every day, for a whole year. I've tried and failed numerous times in making this project come to life. This is my fifth and final stab on this pie. Hopefully, this too, I can finish until June 2016.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqw8Fm8_EANPe2McvMwJkEn16vUBgAw_1auhSUCBo5dKj_MWXqCmyx3gMMy0WSPxiXCWWZoGEsfrVnrlJDi_rPQsJYiAFDKyZD_xGhJsw07iPPDxHcQA6WNMeAe3Mitar16Ts25Gs4mQ/s1600/d001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqw8Fm8_EANPe2McvMwJkEn16vUBgAw_1auhSUCBo5dKj_MWXqCmyx3gMMy0WSPxiXCWWZoGEsfrVnrlJDi_rPQsJYiAFDKyZD_xGhJsw07iPPDxHcQA6WNMeAe3Mitar16Ts25Gs4mQ/s320/d001.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Day 001 - Wear and Tear</td></tr>
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Descriptions were frown upon because the picture and the caption should be more than enough to express what you went through that day. However, since this is not Flickr and I don't really give a shit if they do frown or not, I will add descriptions or if I can, a little story, to my daily pictures. But not today. Maybe tomorrow. After all, tomorrow's another day.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07221825069339233343noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51208070739114138.post-57810384416187419782015-06-23T09:15:00.000+08:002015-06-23T09:15:30.862+08:00Trial and Effort<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Ever since I started the "revival" of sort for this blog, I've been filled with ideas on what I wanted to post and share. There's some projects that I've been meaning to start for a few years now and I think this will be the best time to do so. Also, I've decided to have a "post of the day" on certain days of the week to have a certain "regularity". Not only will it be good to have a goal, but it's therapeutic as well.</div>
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Unfortunately, as much as I want to start it today, I will have to delay it for one more day. I've been bugged by a certain feeling, a certain emotion, that I just can't shrug. It's been bothering me for a couple of weeks now and I think writing it here, will somehow lessen the burden, if not completely remove it. So please, pardon the break on the happy lines, even for just today.</div>
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First of, I'm disappointed. For years, I've trained myself to be careful, to not to trust easy, and more importantly, to never expect anything. Expectation begets disappointments. And yet here I am, sitting in my desk, bored as fuck, thinking about nothing but how much disappointed I am at myself for trusting, for believing, for hoping, for expecting... I should have known better. That's why this line from one of Adele's song really gets in my nerve:</div>
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<em><span style="color: #3d85c6;">"...who would have known how, bittersweet this would taste..."</span></em></div>
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I do. I would have known. I should have known. I've been there way to many times. I'm so stupid to let my guard down.</div>
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And so I got hurt. Still hurting. Nursing my bruised ego like a little Chihuahua licking it's wound. And hurt, leads to anger. Anger that is both misplaced and unjust. Because I'm angry at those people that hurt me. I shouldn't be. I should be angry at myself. It was my fault to let them in. They just did what a normal, sane, individual does - hurt people. They're human and that's what they do. I just should have known better.</div>
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I know how can this be resolved. I know what I need so I can move on. But I don't want to do it. I'm scared. I'm afraid. I'm petrified. They had no idea that they hurt my feelings. How could they? I didn't tell them. I didn't share with them what irks me. They didn't know me. Because I didn't let them know me. But I did trust them. What a fool I've been. Trusting people who doesn't even want to know who I am. </div>
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I'm such an asshole.</div>
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<em><span style="color: #e06666; font-size: x-small;">"Each of us must confront our own fears, must come face to face with them. How we handle our fears will determine where we go with the rest of our lives. To experience adventure or to be limited by the fear of it."<br />--Judy Blume</span></em></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07221825069339233343noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51208070739114138.post-39919504525360951032015-06-22T16:27:00.000+08:002015-06-22T16:27:12.050+08:00Father's Day Blues<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I don't have any kids or any people that I consider as my children so I'm definitely not a dad. I'm not a priest either so nobody calls me 'father'. But what I lack in certain aspects, I more than make up for in my appearance. Because even though I am not a literal 'daddy', I do look like one.</div>
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I guess it was inevitable. I am almost thirty three years old anyway. Most of my batch mates in college are now parents. All of my childhood friends are married, except for the one who's currently in a cruise as a waiter. He's a little 'special' so he doesn't count. Add to that that I am not good with kids. Probably because I do not like them.</div>
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Yes, I do not like kids. Don't get me wrong, I do get swooned just like any regular guy when I see a baby smile or hear them laugh. It's a feeling that I can't even compare to anything yet. However, I do not like to hear crying babies in a public area, or at home, or anywhere in particular. I do not like unruly kids. That's probably the reason why kids doesn't like me back. I don't care. As long as they stay away from me, I'm happy. But I digress.</div>
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Anyway, back to the topic. Yes, I am not a dad and probably will never be one. But I do look like a dad already. I have a 'dad bod' as people nowadays would like to call it. I also wear wire rimmed glasses that probably adds to the 'fatherly look'. That's why when someone asks my age, I always answer with a disclaimer - <span style="color: #cc0000;"><i><span style="color: #e06666;">'I'm 32 but I know I look like 42'</span></i></span> and then smile at them.</div>
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Here's a funny story. This happened back in 2008 <span style="color: #c27ba0;">(I guess even then, I do look like an old guy!)</span> I was at Krispy Kreme on a lazy Sunday, enjoying my hot cup of tea, while reading the morning papers, when suddenly, this crew gal came from nowhere, approached me, and said, <span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><i>"sir, happy father's day po!"</i></span> and proceeded with giving me a free donut. I was surprised but just smiled and took the free desert <span style="color: #c27ba0;">(yes, I'm evil, I know)</span>. </div>
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The following year, I went out for lunch with my childhood buddies at El Polo Loco in MegaMall. When we arrived, I barked my usual orders to my friends to secure a seat for us and to grab some utensils, then I went to the cashier to place our order. Yup, you guess that right! She told me I'll be getting half a chicken for free since it's father's day, and then greeted me with her smile. I smiled back and asked her how did she know. She told me that I was with my kids. MY KIDS! Fine, I'm the oldest in the group but I'm just two years their senior. I was aghast but of course, I took the free chicken. Payment for my bruised ego. LOL.</div>
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So there you have it. And to all the dads out there, who deserve to have a free donut or free half a chicken, thank you, thank you, thank you!</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07221825069339233343noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51208070739114138.post-59713135070550324032015-06-19T06:09:00.000+08:002015-06-19T06:09:11.923+08:00Chocolate Rabbit<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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As I turn over a new leaf on this blog, I would like to start with reintroducing myself one post at a time. Actually, I had a plan on how to do the introduction with just one post but I'm too high to do it. </div>
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Yup, I'm high.</div>
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I'm high but not from drugs. Nope. I don't do that. I grew up with relatives that destroyed their lives doing drugs so even when I haven't tried it, I can state for a fact that it can't do any good to anyone. Just look at my family. Anyway, I am high. I ate too many chocolates.</div>
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I like chocolates. But I try not to eat them as often as I can. Sugar rush is a serious thing. Makes me hyper and horny. Yup, you got that right. Horny. Some people say spicy food is their aphrodisiac, well mine's chocolate. </div>
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I remember one time, after not having chocolates for more than a month, I ate a piece right after lunch. I locked myself in my room, and jerked myself to exhaustion. I think I did it like five times in less than 3 hours. I'm a horny rabbit. LOL.</div>
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There was this one time, while in the office, the client gave away sweets and chocolates. I ate one and after an hour, I excused myself from the meeting because I can no longer focus to the material being discussed. I rushed to the nearest restroom to release my pent up urge. Only then was I able to finish the discussion. So yeah, chocolates are bad. The good kind of bad.</div>
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So, you might be wondering, now that I had too much chocolate to consume while in the office, did I do it? The answer is a big NOPE. Because there is such a thing as too much. And too much sugar is bad for your boner. Trust me, I know. I'm feeling it right now. LOL.</div>
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Now, time to go ransack the fridge for more chocolates harharhar</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07221825069339233343noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51208070739114138.post-28363454660466346272015-06-19T02:31:00.001+08:002015-06-25T03:11:23.963+08:00Beginning Of A New Ending<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It's past midnight and I'm preparing for work. Everyone in the house is still up, watching "Here Comes The Bride" on TV. I've seen the movie so I didn't give it much attention and just walked right past it on my way out of the house.</div>
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On my way to work, sitting inside a bus as it hurtled along EDSA, a lady argued with the conductor about the fare. Apparently, they were overpricing their tickets and those who are caught unaware paid more. Good thing she knows how much she should be paying and stood her ground. She got some of her money back.</div>
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Now I'm in the office, waiting for something to happen. There's no point in asking for more responsibilities. I tried. There's none. So I just sit idle while waiting for people to call. Wasting away like all the other days that I've been here. What a waste of talent.</div>
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I pulled up my blog. A comment from Sepsep. It's always nice to see someone comment on your work, especially someone like him. If you know him and had the privilege of reading his work, you'll know what I'm talking about. </div>
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And then my eye wandered to the very top of this blog. The banner and the title that I decided to use was shouting at me. Daring me. Glaring at me.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The Beginning Of A New Ending</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">the day I changed how my fate ends...</span></div>
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When I started this blog, I had a purpose. I had an idea. A new beginning. A new ending. A new me. Funny thing is, that I've been drudging on like a drone, feeling hurt, downright depressing, and someone of a downer... someone I've always been, a complete contrast to what I was trying to achieve here. I've lost my focus. I've taken my eye off the prize.</div>
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I'm suddenly reminded how the characters in the movie I mentioned above got their second chances and what they made use of it. I'm reminded of the lady in the bus that stood her ground and fight for what is rightfully hers. And I'm reminded of how Sepsep keep on telling me about redemption and such. That this blog can be better. That I could be better.</div>
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This blog should not be a reminder of the past but a beacon of light. </div>
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It is time to change the course of things. Though it had a rough and bumpy start, it's time to create a new ending. Fate has given me another chance. I intend to take it.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07221825069339233343noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51208070739114138.post-90566780878521059522015-06-18T06:30:00.001+08:002015-06-18T06:30:59.976+08:00Of Crossroads And Other Paths<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<em><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: x-small;">"...Now I have come to the crossroads in my life. I always knew what the right path was. Without exception, I knew. But I never took it. You know why? It was too damn hard..."</span></em> </div>
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<span style="color: red; font-size: x-small;">- Lt. Col. Frank Slade, Scent of A Woman</span></div>
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I've been going through a lot lately. Don't ask me what about because I myself doesn't know what or why. All I know is that lately, I'm always tired, drained of energy, and some days, downright depressed. I've lost my appetite for both food and life. All I want to do is to lock myself in my room, day and night, waste away playing online games, until the day I die.</div>
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I've lost my motivation, my push, my will to live. </div>
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I'm merely existing. Almost flitting.</div>
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It could be depression. I don't know and I don't care. I just thought writing it here could somehow help. Or maybe this is just a call for attention that I think I deserve. Maybe.</div>
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I've been doing some thinking lately. Which is bad considering that I overthink everything. I oftentimes allow my mind to wander way far ahead. That's why I stopped thinking about many things for a long time. But having all this time that I have now that I have locked myself away from everyone, I can't help but think.</div>
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For the good part, I wanted to reinvent this blog. I have an idea of making it more light and fun. Though it will run contrary to what I feel usually, at least it won't be so heavy. I will try to inject humor to the tragedy that I will share. Again, someone that is not me. But it would be redundant if I write as who I really am in real life, someone who is boring, heavy to be with, full of drama individual. What's the use of having an online persona right? It's just it won't be me. It won't be me.</div>
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For the bad part, I've been thinking of breaking up with the love of my life, my current partner, my boyfriend, my one. I love him so much and it pains me to see him suffering because of me. Would he be hurt if I leave him, yes, he will be. At least I hope he will be. And then he'll move on. Compare that to being stuck with me through all this years, sucking up all his positive vibes and replacing it with my negative aura. Imagine living with a dementor as your partner. You'll be insane as all the prisoners in Azkaban. I don't want him to be insane. I want him to be happy. And I don't think I can do that anymore.</div>
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I'm on a crossroad of some sort. I know what path I must take. Will I take it? I don't know. It seems to be too damn hard.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07221825069339233343noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51208070739114138.post-6048525227891797122015-06-12T10:26:00.000+08:002015-06-12T10:26:22.055+08:00Hence, I write<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I have issues. There are those that seems cute at times, and there are those that really needs help. I think I've listed them all down somewhere but to be honest, I'm sure there are a lot more issues and quirks in me that I myself do not know.</div>
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Hence, I try to avoid people. For one, I do not think that they will like me. I don't like me. I think it's just fair that I should not like them, too. Another thing is I've been hurt countless times. Who isn't right? So I have this feeling of justice and righteousness to stray from people. It's called self preservation.</div>
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There are more reasons that I can think of that I will not write here. There's no use. Because in the end, no matter how much I hate them, I always go back to reality: <em><span style="color: red;">"I'm human and I need my fellow humans."</span></em></div>
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I've tried being friendly. It doesn't suit me. I'm a boring guy. I don't make people laugh. And people who can't make people laugh are boring people. At least to most people. Because for me, funny people are entertaining, yes, but while they're making you laugh. What interest me more are those people that can make me think. People that can make me use my imagination. Someone that can make me say "why didn't I think of that?"</div>
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I've tried limiting my human interaction to a bare minimum. Talk when spoken to. Smile when needed. Shake hands when offered. Keep your head down. But being a talkative shit like me, I can't contain myself sometimes. Especially when I hear people say the wrong stuff. I'm such a know it all. Another thing why people hate being around me.</div>
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Hence, I stayed away from physical contact whenever I can. Thanks to the world wide web, I can quench my desire for human interaction to blogs, forums, and chats. The development of social media was a great milestone for people like me. I can see all their pictures and videos without languishing from all their tales, fishing for self approval (<em><span style="color: #3d85c6;">as if I am not like that hahaha</span></em>). But be that as it may, I still end up longing for physical human contact. I'm gay that way.</div>
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Which finally brings me to my point (<em><span style="color: #6fa8dc;">boy, these days, my introductions are too long!</span></em>).</div>
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I mentioned before that besides blogging, I've joined a forum called Pinoy Exchange or PEX for short. There's a thread for the LGBT community that I just learned about quite recently. There's tons of information there that I gobbled up. I even saw a group in my area of employment that seems friendly enough. Though I'm happy enough to engage these people online, their increasing desires to do a group meet up captured my attention. For all their plans and desires, they can't seem to make one happen. It irritates me to no end. I mean, how hard could that be? So I set forth and make one happen. Much to my surprise, it was indeed hard. But after seeing their faces for the first time, all the effort and hard work were rewarded. Not that they are cute or anything. But they are a diverse group of people. And diversity always means information. I love information.</div>
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The meet ups became habitual. People from other groups mimicked what we did and were successful. I'm happy for them. But the fun of doing something that seems undoable faded. And the information the forum provided dried up. What's left are relationships that were founded during the meet ups. Friendships. Trust. People.</div>
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I got scared. I'm getting too attached. Pain from previous encounters hunts my dreams. Needless to say, I left without saying another word. Better to sever the thread that binds myself to these people before they can hurt me. It's painful and hateful. It's selfish and unfair. But my fear is real and the potential pain is just too much risk for me to continue. </div>
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So I stepped back. But those that I met and grew fond of, created a mobile group where we can all chat away from PEX. As usual, I'm part of it. I didn't have the heart to tell them that I no longer wish to be part of their family. Better that I just fade away without people noticing. That way, no goodbyes are needed. (<em><span style="color: #3d85c6;">reading this part made me realize that I think too highly of myself. As if the people in the group would actually care if I leave.</span></em>)</div>
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I thought I made it in time. I thought I was able to cut the chains before I was in too deep. But I was wrong. I'm already drowning without knowing it. Because the pain that I was afraid of, it's real and it's here.</div>
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<em><span style="color: magenta; font-size: x-small;">"it's nice to be needed until you are not. then you are cast aside, left in the corner, gathering dust."</span></em></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07221825069339233343noreply@blogger.com0