Thursday, July 26, 2007

hits and ran

Hit 1: Woke up on another morning and went straight off to school without any breakfast filling my starving stomach.

Hit 2: Went to the SU Main Library and settled an exhibit, to be displayed in the Luce Auditorium, for Ramon del Prado's coming here in Dumaguete City. I think he arrived here this afternoon.

Hit 3: On the rush. Made an essay for our Informal Essay class that revolved around the topic, “what ticks you off?” I dealt my writing on an even inside an office.

Hit 4: Ran ran ran. Read read read. Harry Potter? Hu hu hu...

Hit 5: Sat in a class with only four students present.

Hit 6: Went to someone's house and discussed ballads and poetries by Frederico Garcia Lorca and someone who's cleverly called as “anonymous.” Hmm... The literary piece "The Winning of Mariang Ganda" was very beautiful; I forgot who the author was.

Hit 7: Received two text messages that shook my very essence a bit.

Hit 8: Read a lot of blog posts filled with the nastiest Harry Potter spoiler present on the world wide web. And to think of it, I know the authors of those blogs!

Hit 9: I found out that the Weekly Sillimanian office is oh-so-quite! And then I found out that the SU Debate Society is on a trip to Cebu.

Hit 10: Ran.

Friday, July 20, 2007

last book

The final book of the Harry Potter series is finally coming out tomorrow morning! And I have reserved a copy at National Bookstore.

I reserved the book, done with the necessary requirements (e.g. downpayment), at National Bookstore - Tagbilaran branch. What's more, people of Dumaguete City will be ahead of me tomorrow reading the freshest magical dillemas of this scarred hero.

Phew. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, see you soon. Hu hu hu!

Thursday, July 12, 2007

notes from the past's reign

Words spoken will be etched in our minds for a few days but words written will last forever if the papers are not burned.

And before anyone would do such an attempt, huh, too late: I am posting it here—and it will stay.

The art of writing has transcended its purpose, from anything literary and informative down to being mundane and even lucrative. And just yesterday, fresh from the grapevine, I myself witness a glossy hardbound logbook filled of yesterday's deep, dark, but funny secrets.

First, let's kick off with this little bad note.
And here are the notes that made me smile. I suggest you click on the photo for a clearer and larger picture so that you'll be able to read these astounding revelations.

Editorial Board of the Weekly Sillimanian, school year 2006 - 2007, watch out!

Sunday, July 08, 2007

hits 2.0

Hit 1: Woke up at 4:30 in the morning for this year's Nutri-Fit Walk event. Got drizzled with a little bit of rainwater but it instantly washed away my last sweat of patience.

Hit 2: Walked for a couple of hours and reached the Freedom Park of Dumaguete City, Oriental Negros by 8:30. The grounds were ultra-muddy. Good thing I was wearing my white sneakers, but unfortunately my feet were slimy.

Hit 3: Went confidently at McDonalds to have a quick breakfast (which turned out it was not) with some cheerful companions and a soaked pants.

Hit 4: Went to Silliman University Church – UCCP by 10am. The Weekly Sillimanian (tWS) staff were supposed to act as ushers for the day's morning service. Upon arrival, the first words I heard were: “Nasuko si Ma'am Pal. Wala ta ni-attend sa orientation gahapon. Dili na ta mag-usher.” Perfect.

Hit 5: Nevertheless, I and some tWS staff attended the morning service 'til the end. Afterwards, we went to an instant photo shoot outside the church for I brought someone's camera. Narcissism moves in mysterious and divine ways, I tell you.

Hit 6: Had lunch by 12 o'clock. Odie, John Boaz, Claudine, Micah, Dirgy, Nikko and I were very hungry.

Hit 7: Arrived at my boarding house and slumped on my bed by 1:30 in the afternoon.

Hit 8: Woke up by 5:30 in that Sunday afternoon heat! Such a feat.

Hit 9: Went to the Weekly Sillimanian office and found Odie lying on a bench, sound asleep. The poor 'lil editor, so stressed up. Fronting one of the archaic PCs available in the office, I started making myinformal essay for Dale Law.

Hit 10: Ate at Kamalig for dinner and went straight to Wi-Max after I had realized my stomach was properly filled and then I made this post. Bye.

Saturday, July 07, 2007

bitter gourd tales

Fred Jordan Mikhail T. Carnice
The Weekly Sillimanian
July 4, 2007

Many have an aversion to this vegetable. And no matter how effective media advertising is-vehemently chanting "makulay ang buhay, sa sinabawang gulay"-its reputation might be tarnished by one innocent wrinkled thing: the bitter gourd or ampalaya in our native tongue.

Bitter is one of the four basic sensations in our mouth that is often characterized by an acrid taste. And ampalaya (Momordica charantia) is one juicy vegetable filled with lots of quinine, the natural substance that makes it bitter. With that information, I wonder, "Does quinine run in human veins too?"

If that is the case, wherein this pungent gist could be found in one's body, I must say these Bitter Gourd People are in great numbers walking around the campus today. Ampalaya's striking appearance is what usually teases and detests the eyes. As for the Gourd People, instead of witnessing crumpled looks on the outside, what is really dishevelled are their soul and mind. Though it is hard to explain the truth behind this claim, most of their kind looks exceedingly good; no excess frills! Hiding their true nature while projecting an air of pride is a bitter man's professional lifestyle. The advent of unique personalities of the world had indeed created, if not changed, a new definition for the word "bitter."

I have landed into diverse roles ever since I stepped into Dumaguete City. I've evaluated the people around that were once (and are currently) part of my on-the-rush routine and there's no denying they exist in packs, waiting lasciviously for their next victim. They assess mistakes of other people as a stylized form of mockery, they bloat around by the slightest catch of ignorance, they stare into strangers' faces like they are useless bunch of illiterates.

One may ask: "Why, of all the available pursuit of leisure to get into, be gruesomely bad?" Psychologists may explain accounts of extreme obsessive compulsiveness, slight schizophrenia, and other mental relations of the body's problematic neurons, but actually there's this term even the most futile layman could instantly comprehend: they are just - knowingly or unknowingly - plain jealous.
Green-eyed, covetous, desirous, insecure, all of these names just boil down to a piece of information that these are fuelled by anger. Everyone should take into consideration this quote from Albert Einstein: "Anger dwells only in the bosom of fools."

And what great fools it is to be! To go bursting forth onto your fellowmen, surging loud profanities or simply inflicting insults at someone's back. These acts of the utmost wantonness only show incivility. From anger to bitterness, then bitterness to whatnot-the cycle is endless. Just like the plant, it is heedless of anything that it clings to for the sake of its own selfish objectives, bearing bitter fruits.

No, this is not in lieu of this year's nutrition month, nor a campaign against People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) advocating on vegetarianism. This is an open forum for one's self to weigh up the bitterness inside And if fates do not stop weaving your destiny into letting you bump against these gourds, just treat them as what they truly are: wrinkly, bad-tasting, and rough-in short, ugly. For ugly things are not worth your precious time, the surest solution to such encounters is to yield to it.

Yield then pull out the gourd's roots.

litcritter original sent

For the past two weeks we were tasked to write another piece of fiction, the kind of the story that is leaning towards the horror genre. And as what Ian Rosales Casocot told us last Saturday, at Silliman University’s President’s House, “writing horror is not easy.”

And believe me it is not, unless you are Stephen King or a reincarnation of Lovecraft or Blackwood.

Though my academics and some extra duties consume most of my time, thankfully I managed to write down a tale I think deliberately steered away from what we were supposed to be writing. Sorry, it’s just hard even if you are simply told ‘all of you have to do is create the mood’ statements every time you ask someone how to write an effective horror story. The bottom line is that I gave it a shot.

Truth be told, this LitCritter assignment is for
Dean Alfar’s call of entries on his Philippine Speculative Fiction volume 3; an anthology of anything wondrous or as what the editor himself said in a lot of interviews, “the literature of the imagination.”