We three kings of Orient are
Bearing gifts we traverse afar.
Field and fountain, moor and mountain,
Following yonder star.
The -ber months have begun and already it smells like Christmas (only in the Philippines, the holiday season begins in August)! In the market places, retailers have begun selling Christmas decors and paraphernalia. Oh I can’t wait! Fast forward please!
If only that were possible, fast forwarding to the good bits of the year. I would fast forward to the day after my Midterm examinations are over. Oh don’t worry, I’ve already reviewed.
This month my Mama and Papa will be celebrating their birthdays. Ma on the 11th (we were probably celebrating when the twin towers fell) and Pa on the 19th (same as my cousin’s cousin Jemima). So don’t forget to greet them, ya hear? ^^
Happy Birthday Baguio City. I’m sorry I’m not that deep in the loop to actually know how old you are already. No matter. I thought I’d appreciate how good you have been to me throughout my nineteen major major (I just had to use that punchline) years of life, because I’m certain that one day I will leave your hills and highlands and coolness for greener pastures in my professional life.
Baguio, I have so many memories engraved in your pine trees and strawberries and other whatnots that I shall keep dear and for which I shall be forever grateful. I am most grateful because you have greatly inspired my love for the pen. Baguio life has inspired many ideas stored in my brain that are yet to be flourished with a few figures of speech and classy adjectives. The wonder of living in you broke the monotony of everyday life.
I admit that there have been times that I got sick of you, and would have given anything for a bus ticket out of your streets, but overall I’m glad that I was raised here. So again, happy birthday and I hope you don’t get some phony politicians any time soon. Viva!
A massive headache and techno music (tugs tugs tugs) constitute for a bad day, don’t you think? I now know what it feels like to have a migraine and hear techno for fifteen minutes straight. I could have asked the cab driver to shut the darn radio off, but my head was too engaged in interpreting pain info to bother.
My ears are ringing as I type this, so I’m just going to adjourn. Blog post will be continued… soon. Bonsoir Blog Sphere, I’m gonna get some relief.
P.S.
To my cousin Gift, I miss you pseudo Korean. Stay cool in Illinois (Illinwa in French). Na nun no nul saranghe (am I correct?).
P.P.S.
To my dear friend slash sister Halee, have a safe flight on Wednesday. Keep safe in London, if I’m not mistaken. Much love.
P.P.P.S.
I got a text message that read something close to this:
You hate the Philippines for the hostage taking blah blah blah… so should I hate China for the products that contained melamine that not only killed eight people but probably thousands of consumers blah blah blah… Don’t blame the whole country for the mistake of one man blah blah blah.
I don’t really remember the exact message so I paraphrased. Maybe I’ll post it when my phone isn’t dead.
Today I saw my crush. She wore a pink top and– Seriously!? What’s up with that dear diary thing? This ain’t a chick flick!
Have you ever ever experienced having your body react to your dreams, while you’re dreaming? I have. It really sucked ’cause back then my right ankle was badly sprained to the point of me being bed ridden. I was dreaming of being on the soccer field, running with the ball dancing around my legs (quite impossible in real life, but in my dreams my football moves are sicker than Cristiano Ronaldo’s). Then unconsciously, my legs jerked. The pain of kicking out with a bad ankle sent my mind into overdrive, causing my senses to go into red alert. Pumped with adrenaline, I sat straight up.
Maui kept laughing at me when I told him and my mom about it the next morning at breakfast. I sensed Mama wanted to laugh with him, but she showed the face of a concerned parent. Oh well it was weeks ago so whatever.
I deleted a lot of my connections on Facebook. From 600+, my friend list is at 300+. They were basically people I didn’t know and people who I had no business with and who didn’t have business with me (besides blog followers could connect with James Lontoc Dot Com). Does that make me a snob? I don’t think so. With all the internet crime and internet bull, I believe it’s best to be careful and stay safe. It’s not wise to accept requests from strangers. Privacy is called privacy for a reason. It’s my right anyway.
Ah, rights. A few days ago my rights were violated. At an overpass, some dude tried to pick my pocket. Good thing I felt it; if not, I would’ve been broke for the rest of the week. When I felt it I turned around to find his hand on my wallet (whew, he was an amateur), I acted on impulse and punched him on the jaw. He scurried away like a sewer rat. I might’ve been wrong by punching him, because I could’ve screamed ‘MAGNANAKAW’ or something, but the more I think about it the more I believe that punching him was not wrong at all. I basically acted instinctively; it is man’s instinct to protect his rights. I was protecting myself from being violated, and smacking his face was a means of self defense. Besides, screaming ‘MAGNANAKAW’ is sort of a chick thing. Or a palengkera thing, palengkera is great but it doesn’t suit me.
Anyway. Today I learned a new word. It’s medically related and it’s the term for repetitiveness, basically. It’s when something is said or asked over and over again (e.g. kung di nanalo si noynoy si erap presidente… kung di nanalo si noynoy si erap presidente… sige ulitin niyo pa!). The word is echolalia.
“Is that how an English Major is supposed to report? You’re not even one sixteenth of what an English Major is supposed to be.” the English Literature professor said after the last member of the group read his report – a sign that he did not prepare. Her words stung and cut deep, leaving Mr. Lontoc astonished.
The worst thing that a person could’ve said to him rang in his ears. It was not directed to him particularly, but to his whole group, yet he could not help but be humiliated. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been, as he did his part and even tried his best to save the group mates who did not do theirs, but the insult was too strong to be taken in stride, much less ignored.
How could he not be humiliated. He was proud of being an English Major, and telling him that he was not even one sixteenth of what an English major was supposed to be was like telling him that his education was of no value. It was like telling him to go jump off the 7th floor of Perfecto building because his studies were worthless since he could not even be a fraction of what he was supposed to be. What he was meant to be.
As the bell rang, Mr. Lontoc stood with weakened knees and tingling hands. For a moment his blood circulation stopped, and the restoration of the flow startled and hurt him at the same time. His mind went blank and seemingly, his neurons ceased to function. His eyes did not see, his ears did not hear, and his skin could not feel the coldness of the wall he leaned on as he walked. He felt even more feverish than he already was.
The pain he felt was foreign to him. It was not quite like a broken wrist, dry bones, or even a heartbreak. He could not define what is was like, because it was the first time he ever felt it. He could not place the right words to describe it, but ironically, he would never forget it. The pain was seared on his consciousness and the words tattooed on his senses.
This English Major had a relatively tiring day. Had to get to school early to practice for the upcoming group activity (live performance meeting) for my Parliamentary class on Wednesday, which half of the members by the way missed (those who wanted to practice weren’t there, so if they flunk they can’t blame those of us who sacrificed).
Then I had to attend three major subjects ’til 6 pm. Afterwards I had a ball game in which I played about four (?) minutes, and then had a Double Cheese Burger and Monster Rockin’ Ruby Float at McDonald’s. Maui and I got home at about 10:30. I’m quite drained, but I can’t complain. This day was productive, thus great. Thank you God.
Good night Blog Sphere and faithful (?) readers. And to the all the Sakata Gintoki fans and Batang 90′s like me. Que vivirá para siempre Batang 90′s! Espero que haya dulces sueños, hermoso pueblo.
A lot of people think of manga as a load of bull that makes children stupid. This perception could be or could not be true, depending on the manga that is being read. I admit as a frequent reader of manga, there are tons of dumb arse manga that deplete one’s IQ to nil. But then again, I should know that there are a lot of awesome mangas too, that teach readers values that can be used in real life. Take for example this screen from one of my favorite titles, Bakuman:
The context is that this guy (i.e., Takagi), convinced another guy (i.e., Mashiro) to join forces with him and become a mangaka. Takagi would do the script and Mashiro would do the drawings (sort of like a George Beard and Harold Hutchkins combination. Yes Captain Underpants rocks). Mashiro shows Takagi a book his late uncle (a mangaka who died of burnout from too much mangaka work) owned entitled ‘How To Be a Man 2′ since they’d be working together under the pseudonym Ashirogi Muuto.
As you can see above, the five rules don’t only apply to being a mangaka; they basically are work ethics that apply to every form of work. Work ethics that eventually lead to success. There are a lot of other stuff readers learn from a lot of other manga. It’s just a matter of choosing the right one to read.
So who said manga is a load of bull? Maybe he should read a few and get schooled.
God made me eat my words when I said I’m officially not for mainstream. Turns out that I can make it there, and God used some unfavorable circumstances to making His point to me even more of a bang. I am speechless and pumped with adrenaline right now; I’m not coherent enough to relate what happened. Maybe one day I’ll get to tell you that story.
Thank you God! Thank you White and Blue! Thank you friends!
It’s official. I am not fit for news writing and mainstream (i.e. affiliated with news publications).
I strike-d two times in a row for S.L.U. White and Blue. First time, I bailed after half of the exam ’cause it was in Filipino. Two years later last Saturday, I managed to finish by doing my best in the news writing and sports writing guessing game, and I think I faired well in the grammar test and feature writing portion (though it was sort of forced creativity). But I think I was a little too honest in the interview. The first question asked was to describe myself in one minute, and for a few seconds, all I could say was: Uh…you can Google me…
I’m not disappointed for flunking per se, because I’ve known and accepted that I suck as a journalist prior to the screening, but I mourn the loss of the plus points I could’ve gotten in my Journalism class if I made the cut. You see, my teacher is a fan of being a member of a publication or at least being affiliated to one. Maybe that’s why God didn’t give me the position; “If you just write for the points and not for my glory son, nuh uh, you can’t have it.” or “White and Blue is not for you son, I’ve got bigger plans for you.” as I’d like to think.
Yes, my motivation for trying out was selfish. I never really cared much for joining publications; I did it for the points. And I guess I was a little too honest by kinda giving that away during the interview. The interviewer asked me what motivated me to try out and the conversation sort of went like this (note this is not verbatim):
Her: What inspired you to join White and Blue?
Me: Quite frankly I was totally unaware that W&B was recruiting. I just found out when I passed by Silang lobby and a friend of mine signed me up. Since he was listed as a fan of my blog, I couldn’t say no…
Her: Oh yeah! I remember! You were the one who looked like Hayden Kho, right? Ahahahaha!
Me: Uh…Yeah, I suppose that was me. But I beg to differ with looking like him. Anyway. I wasn’t really planning to join (here I tried to make up for it) …but then I thought about it and decided it would be a great thing to be part of a publication, interacting with fellow writers…haha.
Her: It’s not just interacting. We are the OFFICIAL publication of S.L.U. That’s a huge responsibility.
Me: Right. I agree.
I wonder why. The interviewer kept smiling at me throughout the interview; I took it as a positive sign. Hmm, what was up with that. I’m happy for my friend Ruth though, who made it through the first round. She’s really a better news writer than I am (CONGRATS RUTH!). I was so proud of her when I found out, it felt sort of paternal. Weird. So I guess I’ll stay in the indie writing scene, where I belong and am at best.
P.S.
I don’t really look like Hayden Kho, do I? (See above.)
Congratulations to Spain for winning the World Cup (for the first time in history) by defeating the Netherlands (who did a pretty darn good job throughout the tournament) 1:0. I’m, not too happy about it (oh Germany!), but I’m a good sport. :)
Good job Spain, and most particularly Iniesta. Splendid play, converting Fabregas’ pass and putting Spain on top of the world. For now. Good for you, Andres.
The top of the world goal.
Of course, congratulations to my team, Germany for placing 3rd, defeating Uruguay 3:2 (definitely a more exciting game than the final game itself). I hope next year you can get your 4th Cup.
L (Mr. Lontoc - Mr. L - L) says thanks for taking the time to drop by H☺☻lΩh☻☺ps™, and welcomes you to his sphere. Hopefully, you enjoy spinning around the loop and learn something worthwhile at the same time.
Since he was a kid with snot all over his face, L has enjoyed story telling and writing. He'd use to come up with fantastic stories on the spot that usually had his adult listeners roaring with laughter.
Because his loving parents recognized his passion for the art, they surrounded him with books and sent him to the University of the Philippines' Summer Arts Workshops where he studied creative writing under the supervision of Cristina Bejar. The workshop nurtured his love for writing, and sharpened his skill as a pen man.
L is a harmless guy who only hurts the mosquitoes that buzz around his head at night and other irritating pests, and he welcomes your feedback and comments. He is also willing to listen to your suggestions etc. However, L does not tolerate spammers. His spam detector makes sure of that. Oh, he also detests plagiarism.
So again, thanks for visiting, welcome, and enjoy! Cheers!
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