DEVASTATION!!!

September 28, 2006 and a bloody storm hits Ateneo! How incredibly narrow-minded. I should say a bloody storm hits Metro Manila! But that would still be pretty narrow minded with just a pinch of arrogance. There was, somewhere in the Northern Philippines, a bloody vicious storm!!!

But don't just take my word for it:



I call it The Messed Up Path to a Messed Up Dorm



We could make Uruk-hai . . . or not.



My favorite, and most artistic shot of the bunch, Dela Costa Through the Branches of a Broken Tree.



That's exactly what it looks like: A Row of Uprooted Trees.


This one's boring. ^_^


It felt . . . good walking the deserted streets of a devastated Ateneo. It's an experience not everybody can have. It was like walking through an alternate reality where the Jesuits invented a poison nerve gas that somehow leaked out and killed everybody. It was like the bloody Twilight Zone.

Manual labor

Typing up two and a half hours' worth of interviews!? How easy is that!? For money? It's so easy I'd do it for a pizza.

Like I said, it all seems soooo easy. Until you try to do it.

BLOGGING FOR WHAT'S RIGHT!
September 26, 12:42 AM

The Blessed Blog of God

I've read all the words in the Sandman series. It's not THAT deep. Not really. Maybe.

"What happens to you when you die?" asks a little human.

"Depends on who you are." replies Death of the Endless.

Now there's a quote.

Ah. I begin: This conversation presupposes that something is left of your consciousness when you die. I disagree. Therefore, I maintain my previous position that when you die you cease to exist, consciousness-wise.

So why did I bother writing the quote here? Because, while I disagree with the implementation of the idea, the idea itself has merit in my eyes. Used in a different situation: Question: "What do you see when you read Sandman?" My answer: "Depends on who you are." Question: "How deep is the Sandman?" Answer: "Depends on how deep you are."

Another quote, this time from Socrates' contemporary, Protagoras: "Man is the tool by which the universe is measured." Again, the idea is there but the phrasing is off. If we were to believe Protagoras then a very shallow person would find Sandman very deep, since, being shallow, he would perceive something deeper than himself as an abyss of depth. This is not the case. People who look deeply into themselves are the people who read the most out of something like the Sandman series. Those who are less self-aware simply see a comic book whose main protagonist, like Vin Diesel, is always cool and cannot be defeated (even gods bow to Dream of the Endless).

Now I bring the two quotes together. I did not see that much depth in the Sandman. If it is really there then I must have missed it. This means I am a shallow person. This gladdens me. I revel in my shallowness; my inability to be hurt. The lack of a face behind my mask.

I am nothing more than what I am.

BLOGGING FOR WHAT'S RIGHT!
September 16, 2006 11:02 PM

I would like to be emo

Emo, I have gathered, is not something you become. It's something you simply are. Like being Jamaican. Everybody wants to be Jamaican. Not everybody wants to be emo. But I do; if only for a little while. Emo-ness seems cool.

Well some wiggers certainly look and act and seem like Jamaicans (except for the white part). They have the walk, the music, the accent... for all practical purposes they have turned themselves Jamaican. Since emo is not a race, I should be able to turn myself into a cool emo man with less effort. But I can't. I try to be angry at the world and complain about everything. I try to have my feelings hurt. I try to feel desperation in my alone-ness. I even try to hate the meaninglessness of life. I look for the suicidal, self-hurting spark in me that would make me emo. I try, I try... but to no avail.

Why, then, can I not become emo? Is it my zest for life and my refusal to give up hope? My love for other people and my need to communicate, reach out, and be reached out to? Bah. I don't have any of that. Should I not, then, be a prime candidate for emo?

Much reflection has gone into this thought. It seems to me that the reason I can't be emo is because I don't want the things that emo people want. They want social recognition and companionship and they're angry because they don't get it. I don't really care much for either. They want to be different. I say everybody's the same nobody anyway and the context for the different-ness that they strive for is insignificant. They were raised to be happy in the meaning of life and now are angry to find that the meaning was a fairytale. I saw through the whole thing. They WANT life to have a meaning. Me, not really. The thing is... emo people care that they don't care and whether or not other people care. I don't even care if that last sentence made sense.

See, an emo person right now might go "Bloody fracker blogging around judging emo people".

I'm just a lazy ass bastard. A walking katamaran ng diwa when I'm awake and walking at all. So I can't be emo. I can't be anything. I can pretend to be emo. Maybe. Haha. I am pseudo-emo man who in reality is not-anything man.

What an emo post.

A fish. A shark. A ball. THE ULTIMATE GAMING EXPERIENCE!

Better than any stupid Kenny Game
(If you don't get it, you're not supposed to)

It is finally done! My greatest creation! Kzkkkkhhhhw.

Fish-shark-ball, the ultimate in fish soccer. Sprites stolen from insaniquarium. Sounds and music stolen from insaniquarium AND zuma. Gameplay stolen from FIFA. Coding... 100% original.

A C215b original project by John Dy and Mark Martinez.

Soon, my friends. Soon I will give you the rapidshare link.

BLOGGING FOR WHAT'S RIGHT!
September 7, 2006 12:04 am

Eraño: Preserving Freedom

I have a friend named Eraño. I daresay he is one of my best friends, being one of the ridiculously limited number of people that I open up to (when I'm sober). Like me, he is a philosophical being who has unique thoughts about the universe, existence, classroom politics, karindirya cuisine, love. Like me he has various problems with the Catholic church. Unlike me he has chosen to leave the brotherhood of ECE majors to pursue another career: he is in the PMA.

No, he's not gay. He's not part of the "Pedicure Manicure Alut (Alut = haircut)" Academy. The PMA he's part of is the Philippine Military Academy. Seriously. If I sound to you like I think you should be surprised when in fact you are not, dear reader, this is only because I am too much of a coward to even consider going there.

Don't get me wrong. I love Baguio. I also love guns and shooting things. I'd love tanks too if the PMA had any. It's just the other stuff that one has to do to get one's hands on said guns. I'm too lazy, for example, to get up before the sun rises and run drills for extended periods of time. I'm too proud to follow any orders given to me by superiors and upperclassmen. I'm too much of a pansy to take my hazing like a man. I'm too much of a slob to not spend at least two days of the week wallowing in bed, doing nothing... You get the picture.

But back to Eraño. He's into his second year now at the PMA, and I look forward to the time when he graduates, becomes a military general, and gives me immunity from the law. Oh the things I would do. I would destroy Noreco and rebuild it from scratch in accordance with Monjean Electronic Theory for a start. Moving on, Eraño, sadly, hasn't been home to Dumaguete this whole time, and the next chance he gets to go will be sometime this summer. And I think two months between homecomings is a long time. That is why--- I'm gonna visit him! Or Carissa and I will, if she doesn't break up with me soon. Capricious woman.

I've been thinking lately. They really are heroes, aren't they? These men and women who endure the hardest training so that in war they are the best; So that they can keep the soldier next to them alive, keep themselves alive, and allow the rest of us to live free lives. Thusly my friends in the PMA, I salute you! And you too, people already in the Army.


Cylon Boomer makes life worth living.

And now that my bit of patriotism is done, I would like to comment that Battlestar Galactica Season 2 owns the rear ends of every other series out there. It owns House. It owns Grey's. It sure as hell owns The OC and other similarly silly lovey series. Why, I just saw Battlestar Galactica peddling the asses of said silly lovey series in the marketplace this afternoon. It just owns, ok? I want a Cylon Boomer. Somebody give me a Cylon Boomer!

BLOGGING FOR WHAT'S RIGHT!
September 3, 2006. 8:27 pm.