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Can.You.Read.My.Mind?
July 24, 2008
Congratulations, PNLE June 2008 Passers! POSTED AT 04:37 PM
cast a spell?
|
On Filipino Hospitality POSTED AT 02:04 PM So I went to file my IELTS application yesterday with Paolo. Of course, he had me waiting for at least an hour. He wouldn't be Paolo if he came on time. Thank goodness for errands; I had something to occupy my time with. Yeah. Anyway. We had to get passport sized photos and photocopy some documents. While doing that, we were able to mingle with different people, and got to sample true Pinoy service with a smile. Or snarl. That really depends you know, on the kind of job they have and the kind of customers they serve. Situation 1: Xerox Lady in Copytrade P. Noval Pao: Pa-xerox po. (holds out his driver's license) Xerox Lady: Di pwede yan dito. (not even looking up from counting money) Powder dapat. P: May iba pa po bang nagseXerox dito? XL: (keeps on counting money) Wala. We found another photocopier a few doors down. Situation 2: British Council Council Staff: May I see your ID sir? Pao hands in his license and the photocopy. CS: Sir, do you have a clearer copy of your license? Pao: Oh no, I don't have any other copies. CS: Not to worry sir. We have a photocopy machine here. Would you like us to make a copy for you? Now compare and contrast. Hah. And they say Filipinos are the most hospitable of races. |
Alumna POSTED AT 04:51 PM It is one in the afternoon and the sun is at its peak. It is hot. It's always hot these days. Down the stone pathway I walk, slowly enough to watch the people around me, but quickly enough so stragglers and those hurrying to classes would not get annoyed. It’s irritating you know, when you’re trying to get to class as quickly as you can and people on the sidewalks leading to the massive buildings walk so damn slowly. There’s the Lover’s Lane. You would think that the Fountain and the Arch would lose its charm as a subject for photography and paintings. You’d be surprised that with just a slight tilt of the head, a bend of the wrist, or a new position as you sit cross-legged on the ground, you can find a new perspective. The results are always surprising. Fresh. A large tarpaulin flaps in the wind, promising the imminent arrival of a new building. Another expanse of grassland will be gone soon, to be replaced by an edifice of cement and glass. Like we need another one of those. And here’s the watering hole. There are skirts, and slacks, and collared blouses and V-necked shirts and PE shorts bearing the seal of the IPEA. A group hurried along, each with a red Styro bowl with a plastic cover in hand. I shake my head. Fast food will be the death of the Philippine youth. The oldest and grayest of buildings loom closer. They shouldn’t have put an ATM machine here. It just didn’t mesh well with old stone gargoyles, wood flooring, marble and history. The rushing of water from that magnificent and obnoxious fountain grows louder, accented by peals of laughter, dance beats and sounds of breaktime. It fades away as I enter the most secluded area of the campus. There are white blurs. Some with stethoscopes in tow, walking in quick steps as though death was on their heels. Some are bright-eyed and shiny with excitement. And oil. I did say it was hot. Others dragged on, stoop-shouldered, carrying the weight of the world with them. A group of twelve shuffle through the entrance, led by a stern woman covered in a lab gown and a cloud of confidence and wisdom. I step back to let them pass. They glance up blankly for a brief second before proceeding to ignore me. They had duties to worry about. I am but an outsider looking in, no one to be bothered with. I am a survivor. But they don’t know that, do they? At the entrance, a hand stops me from stepping through. “Miss, san kayo?” asks trusty, old Mamang Guard. I smile, flashing the card I had hanging around my neck. “Alumni Office po.” -end- -- Heh. Stream-of-consciousness piece that I thought of during a long walk from España to Dapitan. Just trying to flex my writing muscles. ^o^; |
Apparently, I'm Insane POSTED AT 10:53 AM
You are The MoonHope, expectation, Bright promises. The Moon is a card of magic and mystery - when prominent you know that nothing is as it seems, particularly when it concerns relationships. All logic is thrown out the window. The Moon is all about visions and illusions, madness, genius and poetry. This is a card that has to do with sleep, and so with both dreams and nightmares. It is a scary card in that it warns that there might be hidden enemies, tricks and falsehoods. But it should also be remembered that this is a card of great creativity, of powerful magic, primal feelings and intuition. You may be going through a time of emotional and mental trial; if you have any past mental problems, you must be vigilant in taking your medication but avoid drugs or alcohol, as abuse of either will cause them irreparable damage. This time however, can also result in great creativity, psychic powers, visions and insight. You can and should trust your intuition. What Tarot Card are You? |
Rediscovery POSTED AT 10:40 AM After how many months of slaving over books and letting the past summer vacation slip away while we sat through lectures, I initially thought that we needed a break. Badly. So we had a break and it was heaven...for the first few days. I mean, come on. Who doesn't love waking up without an alarm shaking off your stupor? But then it just got really, really boring. Even even with the DSL and piles of DVD series I have lying around, I get easily restless. I guess I'm just not used to being so dormant anymore, and I think I know a few people who share the same sentiments. But that's not the point. ANYWAY. So, when one gets bored, one gets creative and always finds something to occupy the time with, and I whiled mine away by reading books that are in no way related to Nursing. Instead of new clothes, I leave malls with a shopping bag from Power Books, Book Sale or Fully Booked. (Yes, yes there is no need to point out that I am a geekette and that the ebola virus in quarantine has a better social life than I do.) My most recent purchase is, as is obvious from my recent review, Cassandra Clare's debut novel. But no, this post is not about the book. I first encountered Cassandra Clare in Schnoogle.com as the author of one of my favorite fanfiction stories of all time, The Draco Trilogy. I had been a fan of hers from the very beginning, and I followed her work as religiously as I followed the the genuine HP series. So imagine my surprise and delight when I learned that she was working on a book that is all her own. I have a copy of that book in my hands now. I opened it, and couldn't stop reading until I finished it. It was a myriad of emotions after I finished it, mainly because it was one of the best reads I've had in a long time. But ultimately, after I finished reading and set it down, I felt insanely jealous. I was, or am, jealous of her talent, of the research and dedication she put into the book, of her name printed below the title of the novel that came organically from her. I am jealous of the fact that she was once just a Fanfiction writer, like I am (although, with a vast difference in skill), and now people are writing fanfiction on her novels. I am jealous that she gets to do what she loves to do for a living. From what I've read so far, her novel is not a far cry from her work on the internet, so I can safely say that she's not being forced to write something that she does not want to write. I am jealous of her, like I am jealous of Jessica Zafra. She's officially and professionally a writer, something that I really, trully want to be. I want to be that kind of writer, like her, and Rowling and Gaiman. The kind that stimulates the imaginations of many, the kind that people write fanfiction about and have debates on the internet for. I want to be the kind of writer that can make kids ignore the TV and pick up books again, can make boys who think girls have cooties read stories with a female protagonist just because the story is so kick-ass, and can make adults feel young again. I want to be like Shakespeare, whose works are so timeless that up until now, people are remaking it and modernizing it, but still keeping the original context. i want to be like Jane Austen, who probably invented the sub-genre of love-hate romance. I want to be like Tolkien, whose work is a mythology on its own. I wouldn't mind if I won't make it to Literary history, nor if none of my stories become a movie. I just want to write and be read and inspire. I just want to be a writer. God I just want to be a writer. ... Aaaand I think I just stole that last line from one of Angelo Suarez's poems. Whoops. |
Ready For Export POSTED AT 01:53 PM I am a product.
(Haven't been this emo in a while. Woo, blog entry, woo.) |
Review and Rave of a Fangirl: A Blow By Blow Account of my MCR Rocks Taguig Experience POSTED AT 02:48 PM [This is going to be a long one. You have been warned.] Proof of Fangirlyness My Chemical Romance, a band originating from New Jersey, is composed of six dorks with instruments. They are outcasts. Comic book geeks and band freaks. Each member has his own history of being bullied, ridiculed, ignored and heartbroken in varying degrees. All that in mind, it is no wonder their first two albums are teeming with angst. And even as their fame grows they remain just that: weirdoes who have a passion for music and just happened to be really fucking good at it. I am a fan of My Chemical Romance. Well duh. I will entertain no comments on them being goth, emo, gay, sellouts and whatnot. I simply don’t care, even if they really are all that. I know all their songs from Bullets, to Revenge to Black Parade and even all the B-sides and covers. I’ve listened to all the interviews I could find, and watched all their television appearances and guestings. I know the history of each band member, what music and movies they like and so many other useless trivia about them. I think I know more about this damned band than I know my subjects in college. I watched them go through the emo-goth phase and was delighted to find that they’ve evolved into rock-opera-punk. Their music grew up and so did they. And finally, finally, after years of wishing that they come to the Philippines, I saw My Chemical Romance perform live. I didn’t even believe it when I first found out about it and brushed it off as another rumor. Thankfully I got confirmation on the concert on time and managed to get tickets with good seats. Heh. Each of the damn tickets cost a whopping 3,465 pesos. A little too steep for someone who holds onto every penny with a tight fist, but I’ll be damned if I let the chance to see them live slip. I was determined to see them and would not settle for okay seats. (Actually, when we got there, it the Gold and VIP crowd were kind of disappointing. Half of them didn’t even look like they’re enjoying the show.) What good seats they were too. Well, actually, our seats were somewhere in the middle of the Gold section, which is farther from the stage than I would’ve preferred. We stayed there for the opening act by a Malaysian band whose name and song titles I could hardly understand. (They were really good though, despite the language barrier.) Slapshock’s lead singer even made an appearance to sing with them. But then when it was time for the main act, my ingenious cousin Czarina suggested that we leave our designated seats and find a better location. She dragged us off and luckily, there was still free space in the front of the section, right near the division of the VIP and Gold sections. Nearby empty seats served as our elevation. There in an open field; I stood on my plastic Mono-Bloc, in heeled boots no less, and jumped and danced with reckless abandon along with everybody else, not caring that I might topple over and break my neck, screaming myself hoarse. My right hand is this close to getting a contracture in the shape of a permanent rock-on gesture. I’ve got tinnitus up until now because of the booming basses, wailing guitar cries and screaming people.
The Main Act They. Were. AWESOME. Did I stress that enough? I don’t think I did. If they were good on the records, they are even better live. I’ve seen live performances on Youtube and such of course but nothing compares to the feeling I got when the stagelights died and the intro for This Is How I Disappear began to play. I felt shivers, I was shaking and unable to believe that I can actually see them. They’re basically the same songs, but the energy, passion and emotion that the songs were made to convey will only be given justice when they are performed on stage, in front of the millions of insane fans. MCR did all that and more. Ray Toro shredded that guitar so incredibly that I found myself closing my eyes to savor the music whenever he plays a solo. Frank Iero played with his whole heart, soul and body, and you can see it in the manic way he performed. Mikey Way actually moves now. Sure, all he does is that head-shaking-lean-back thing, but for someone who was usually so quiet and mysterious, any sign of movement is good. Bob Bryar, my personal favorite, absolutely transformed from a goofy-looking, bouncer-type dude to a devil on drums. So what if his hair looks stupid in that length and he looks like a ponkan in his orange shirt (everyone else opted to wear, surprise, black.)? He still knew how to handle those drumsticks. Frontman Gerard Way (yes I think he deserves a separate paragraph), performed with his usual sailor’s mouth, rambunctious antics and laughable yet oddly sexy dance moves. His voice is not quite at par with vocalists such as Brandon Boyd, but he had a style that is all his own and he’s improved so much. Gone was the boy who screamed at random intervals to angry lyrics and in his place was someone who knew he made mistakes and learned from them. He knew how to work a crowd too, that’s for sure. Comments like the “We’re My Chemical fucking Romance!” and “This is the shit we're going to remember when we're fucking old men...which is in about...four years.” were enough to get the audience hyped up. Of course, it also helped that he’s dead gorgeous. They started off with This Is How I Disappear from their latest album The Black Parade: a good choice for opening number in my opinion. Following that was a mix of songs from all three albums plus a couple of B-side songs and some new songs that are probably going to be in the next album. They even began Cancer with a cover of the Queen classic "Flash". I would’ve liked to hear Thank You for the Venom and Disenchanted live though, but whatever. It was a good combination of old and new. The Set Their set of songs includes the following: From The Black Parade: Dead!, The Sharpest Lives, Welcome to the Black Parade, House of Wolves, I Don’t Love You, Cancer(“I actually can’t fucking hear you.”), Mama (“It’s never gonna heal….unless…you put some penicillin on it…”), Sleep, Teenagers From Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge: Helena, Give ‘Em Hell Kid, I’m Not Okay, Cemetery Drive, You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prison B-side: Kill All Your Friends ("You guys know what a B-side is? It's a sone we didn't put on the record. Not because it's not totally fucking awesome. Just that we didn't have enough room for it."), Desert Song (I can’t remember the titles of the new songs and I can’t remember which song from Bullets they sang, though. I think it was Drowning Lessons…or Skylines and Turnstiles. If anyone cares to refresh my memory, please do so.) And of course, Famous Last Words was just the song to conclude the night of heavy rocking. I have videos of the event, but I wouldn’t bother uploading them, because you probably wouldn’t see anything clearly. A load of times I forgot I was holding the camera and swayed my hands just because Gerard told us to, so the videos are all kind of a blur.
After the concert we tried to find ways to get autographs and stuff, even tried to catch the band in their hotel. However, a group of stupid kids who got there earlier had actually gone up to the band’s hotel rooms and knocked on the doors, sending the manager and head of security into hissy fits and wanted the rest of the fans to leave. So, no autographs for us. We got to meet some of the crew and the keyboardist though. That’s about as close to them as we could get. Sayang. It would’ve been so freakin’ awesome if we got to meet them. But hey, I can always say I was in the same building as MCR. And with that, my MCR experience drew to a close. Three thousand four hundred fifty pesos gone, and yet it was worth every peso. I can’t wait for them to return. (Note to self: find out which hotel their staying at and when the press con is going to happen next time.:D) |
x Welcome x
Welcome, wanderer, to Fields of Elysion. You have stumbled across the
journal of a seemingly normal yet demented writer slash future nurse.
Feel free to browse around; you never know what you might find. This
lovely layout was made by one of my newest online pals, alex, and it features my true anime love, Duo Maxwell.^.^
Don't forget to give his page a visit!
Live the Magic! >> chen
x Magical Me x
Name: Chenyl Arrabelle
Profile:Name pronounced as she-nil, accent on the 2nd syllable. Libra. Thomasian. Otaku. Air elemental. Commonly referred to as Chen and mistaken for as a snob. Perpetually genki. Reader. Writer...wannabe. Spends hours on the net and in front of the TV. Dr. Love: Always the Doctor Never the Patient.
Loves: anything purple. Tazmanian Devil. Evanescence. Parokya ni Edgar. Dishwalla. Alicia Keys. My Chemical Romance. Panic! at the Disco. Green Day. Switchfoot. Red Hot Chili Peppers. Bamboo. Forty Foot Echo. Dashboard Confessionals. The Goo Goo Dolls. Incubus. Ryan Philippe. Johnny Depp. Daniel Vosovic. Sweets. Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. Clothes. Dangling earrings. Heeled shoes. Anime. Poetry. Literature. Movies. Music. Full House. All things kikay.
Hates: Cheesy pick-up lines. Conio-speak. Erratic english. Leeches. Roaches. Flat shoes. Mary Sue. Fakes.
Affiliates: The Ghorjus Society and The Benchwarmers
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Positive: The Star represents hopes and dreams and the optimism associated with realizing ones hearts desires. The Star is the initial spark of hope that arises from the dust when everything around us seems desolate and bleak. The Star is a renewal of faith in life and our Creator. It represents regeneration and renewal of all the good that life has to offer. The Star also represents the limitless possibilities that life has to offer, from our childish wishes to the high ideals we hold as adults. The Star is the guiding light we have been wishing on all of our lives in hopes of a better tomorrow. While similar to the motivation behind The Fool card, The Star differs in that we have hope beyond whatever our fears may bring. It represents a moment of peace, a reflection of light, or the wonderment of a child.
Negative: Reversed this card represents the loss of all hope, a pessimistic attitude, or succumbing to depression. It can also depict an overly rational point of view or one without any ideals. A minimalist or someone without motivation.
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