Have you had those days? When you’re walking around and feeling like you don’t have full control of your facilities? Like all your reflexes are gone and even taking a fart feels like in slow motion?

That certainly seems to be the order for me this week, and hopefully in the next two weeks as well. Yay! Life is great. Not. At least not for November. I hate this year’s November. I want to bend it over and stick a pole up its ass. Too graphic for ya Mr. Prude? I don’t care, really.

This week my combined number of hours sleep is 15. Yes, 1 and 5. That should be enough to send a cow to retirement but due to my god-given stamina and cans and cans of rockstar, bacchus, ion, and sachets of extra joss, I am still standing. Not exactly standing still but who cares right? The important thing is that I’m still here and the week is almost over. About 7 hours more and I should be driving home. The remaining obstacle is the drive home. I’ll be driving as if I’m riding a hovercraft. That’s how wired I am.

And there’s that small matter of the fork that’s stuck on my nape. How does one pull that out? I’ve had several BP exams and I’ve never been categorized as having a high BP. I attribute that to years and years of baking under the sun, playing tennis, and hubris. When you believe you’re indestructible, high BP is the least of your concerns. In fact, the positive attitude alone (hubris can’t be anything but positive, right?) assures one of normal blood pressure. Still, it would be awesome if there’s some drug that you can take that will literally make you experience the feeling of that fork slowly being pulled out of your nape. Goodness, what an idea. And I haven’t even smoked that pot I’ve been hiding.

It’s already 9 in the morning and I’m still awake. I should have been sleeping now but a deal I’ve been working on keeps me tossing and turning in bed. After almost an hour of trying fruitlessly to go to la-la-land, I finally gave up and sat in front of my computer. Yes, this computer. The first order of business is to read manga. I was careful not to give in to the temptation of opening one of those nasty sites as I might not be able to keep myself in check and might actually go blind, proving those myth-spewing pervs correct.

After finishing the latest chapters of Bambino, Toriko, Holyland, Kimi Nu Iru Machi, and some other titles I forgot, I was stuck with watching or at least trying to watch the latest episode of Skins, that series that has British college kids popping pills, smoking like chimneys, and fornicating like rabbits. Dammit, I wanna be a Brit! Heh.

After Megavideo chided me for watching more than 72 minutes of free video and stopping what I’m watching right before the guy was about to take off a yummy little girl’s lace brassieres (fuckng KJ those guys), I decided to open up this starved-for-attention blog and see if there are some comments I should approve. I was shocked to see it had almost a thousand pending comments! I didn’t realize that this blog was THAT popular! I started reading the comments and was flattered to see people complementing me for what a nice blog I have. Only to realize that the complements were repeated over and over again by different folks! Blasted spam commenters. Another spam commenter assured me that he has the secret to make my penis 4 inches longer! Whoa, that’s like a 175% increase! Somebody else was selling viagra, the other one Cialis and there’s even a guy who guaranteed to high heavens that if I would only buy his plug-in I would automatically start earning $5000, a day. Rrrrright.

There were a couple of comments though so I approved them and went back to deleting more than 800 comments. It’s unbelievable that people would actually spend money buying spam commenting tools. I guess there are those who don’t moderate their blog’s comments. I’m not one of those guys though, and I would rather shut down this lame blog than approve a comment from somebody who calls himself oakley sunglasses.

SLRAP Reunion

One of the legitimate comments however was in reply to that awful post about my memories of SLRAP. Which only reminded me that less than two months from now, my batch will have our reunion. Now high school reunions, especially my high school reunion is something that I really look forward to. If only for the simple reason that we seem to do it only once in ten years. So if a classmate died after a reunion, it would be nine years after that I would get wind of it. Well maybe that’s a far-fetched idea. Not with the age of Facebook, Twitter, and cellphones.

Going back to my reunion though, I’m particularly psyched with this year’s edition. Not so much about the reunion per se because honestly, it would be a resounding success if there were 20 people in it. Our batch reunion is like that. Somehow my classmates do their damnedest to make themselves scarce during that time. I don’t know why. The reason that I’m stoked this year is because I’m gonna be taking a road trip from where I’m staying right now to Polomolok. Yep hundreds of kilometers of fun driving! And if things fall according to plan, I’ll be driving a huge gas-guzzler of an SUV. Heh, the thought just warms my evil, black heart.

When I was younger, younger than my current 18 years of age (don’t argue), reunions were all about trying to hook up with my high school crushes that I was too torpe to make diga during high school. I had dreamt of slithering over to them, pawing them when chance presents itself and impregnate them if I can. Of course things work out really well when you’re imagining them. They never do in real life.

Now that I’m a little bit older, a little bit wiser, it’s all about impressing everyone with how much I’ve progressed in life, which is to say– not very far, if I really think about it. It gets much worse when I compare myself with how others have fared. I guess this is the same thought process that some of my classmates, those who chose to ignore our reunion, went through. Some of them may have thought that they’re not attending because they haven’t really made a name for themselves. Which is a bit sad really considering that we could all die without any warning, and not seeing those people who we shared tears and laughters with way back in high school would be very sad.

True, some classmates may now have better stations in life, but still, once upon a time, we were all just students of the same high school and had to go through all the hassles and euphoria of growing up. Oh well, it’s a bit sad really.

Ok, I think I’ll be able to sleep now.

Back to not sleeping mode. I haven’t been sleeping very well this past few days. I think when I’m confronted with too much time on my hands, I overdo things and get really engrossed with whatever it is I’m doing. Well mostly it’s internet related stuff, with a couple of videos in between. Still this is not healthy, but it’s so much fun.

I haven’t talked to somebody in person for three days now, and it seems this will be going on for the next few days. Just some of the benefits of working from home I guess.

I was not able to write anything for a month or so which is unthinkable given my propensity to write anything and everything that comes to mind. But the last few days I think I’m making up for lost time. I’ve been writing up a storm, and even had some kids do some of the legwork for two blogs I unleashed last week.

Oh well, drowsiness is kicking in so might as well hit the sack.

Many versions have been recorded of this little song by Leonard Cohen (200 artists/versions and counting) and yet one will be hard put to pinpoint which one is the most beautiful. In my biased view however, I like Jeff Buckley’s interpretation the most. I could be influenced by the fact that posthumously (yep dear old Jeff is dead, drowned in fact) his version of the song was number in the Billboard Charts in March 2008. Or maybe it’s the thought that his version was described as ‘hallelujah of the orgasm’ which formed my opinion. In any case, the song is freaking beautiful that I can’t help but do a little background investigation on its lyrical interpretation.

The lyrics were not exactly the greatest in history but pair it with the melody conjured by Cohen and it becomes a different animal altogether. Of course as the title suggest the song is biblical. And there were quite a few verses that were taken from the good book. My favorite stanza was this (hehehe).

And remember when I moved in you
The holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah

Now it doesn’t take a lot of imagination to decipher the meaning behind those lines. La lang. Thought I’d highlight these three lines.

Too bad that Jeff had to kick the bucket so soon though, he could have created a few more unforgettable songs. In his only album ‘Grace’ this is the song that I like most (next to Hallelujah of course).

So people have started using Facebook (an awesome networking tool) to reach out to other folks who would have easily faded in one’s high school memories. People of my high school are no different. There’s now a Facebook page for San Lorenzo Ruiz Academy of Polomolok. That high school where I once attended complete with zits and teenage angst.

There’s not much point in this article really, just a little power tripping maybe in trying to dominate the Google search rankings for San Lorenzo Ruiz Academy of Polomolok. And then there’s nostalgia.

The memory of me literally kissing the hallowed walls of SLRAP men’s toilet because some jerk-assed rich kid who wrote a few letters as a tribute to some bald economics teacher remains fresh in my mind to this day. Which was kinda vexing because when I visited the same toilet a few years ago, there was practically no space left to vandalize that I wondered whether the discipline of the school has relaxed or whether the current students there are simply uncontrollable. I don’t know which is which, and whether at present the same still applies.

I do know that back then, when I was studying there, vandalism was treated like the plague. Fine, this was the time of Magellan but still. Oh well, whatever.

I could still remember the time when the school had a different name. It was Jose L. Valencia Academy I think, and sometime during my stay there, the school got renamed to San Lorenzo Ruiz Academy of Polomolok. It wasn’t a very happy day for the alumni of Jose L. Valencia Academy for sure but there were no mass demonstrations that happened when the powers that be decided to change the name. Not unlike the protests that happened here in Manila when the Yuchengco group wanted to change the name of Mapua Institute to some other god-awful name which of course resulted to the school retaining it’s name.

It must have been hard for those who graduated under the Jose L Valencia Academy to realize that the four years they studied under that school have been completely erased, reduced to ignominy (sorry, I’m being cruel here). It must be terrible to attend a high school grand reunion and not see the original name of your school. Again, oh well.

Still, it’s nice to remember once in a while my old high school, all those silly hand-holdings behind the science lab, the legend of Ilyang and Tibor, the indomitable and forever-Miss Fajanela (gad, how we used to quarrel back then), and of course the eternal principal Mrs Lamboso (not sure if she’s still the principal now).

For sure I’ll be revisiting San Lorenzo Ruiz Academy of Polomolok one of these days, if only to remember that once upon a time, I was part of its shrieking and hysterical high school student body who once wholeheartedly believed that SLRAP is the greatest high school on the face of the earth. And you know what, it might well be– as far as SLRAPians (what an absurd monicker, lol) are concerned.

Anyway I saw a video of Haley singing King of Leon’s Use Somebody in an acoustic version and I thought she sounded really good. Unfortunately I think her version can’t quite capture the emotional range of the original. Which is only natural I think. It’s quite a feat to be able to sound better than the original especially more so in this case when it seems the song has been created only for the frontman of KoL.

If only one of my friends could read this, I would tell him that this is for him. Dude, you gotta stop feeling sorry for yourself, it’s fucking gay.

With my newfound freedom, I’ve declared every Monday to be a holiday. This works very well for me. For one thing, I can’t drive on a Monday– number coding and all that. Not that I plan to go out of my bedroom of course. I am like Thoreau who retreated to the woods; in my case it’s my bedroom. I refuse to see people except on the weekends when I’d rather see Bangus at some fish pond which as given me a lot of satisfaction. I guess I’m anti-human now and pro-bangus.

Having freed myself from my former life’s bondage, one would think that I would be eagerly jumping from one bus to another excited to see the world. That’s not what’s happening however. I have instead indulged myself in all those things that I’ve only been ‘stealing’ before. Those guilty pleasures that have kept me up all night and and were the cause of my perennial grogginess in the office.

I’m reading manga like crazy and re-discovering the joy of writing. Writing however has become a more multi-faceted tool in my case. I still write ‘stuff’, but I balance it out with err.. commercial activities. Whoever said that you can’t mix business with pleasure has a cork stuffed somewhere in the vicinity of his genitalia.

Back to Mondays. It’s a pretty amazing feeling to have a three-day weekend every time. Although I am no longer confined to hours and should not have a care in the world as to what time or what day of the week it is. I still like to keep an unofficial work week. Maybe it’s something that has been deeply ingrained but having my own peculiar work week allows me to schedule things. And lord knows I need to schedule things.

Nevetheless it’s pretty amazing how a stress free life feels. I wish everyone gets to experience this thing even for a short while. And just because I’ve banned Monday from my ‘work life’, here’s Hey Monday!

The acoustic version is more fantastic but youtube.com won’t allow it to be embedded. Boo. Still, check it out. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BnvxqiMiIcA

One of my favorite songs by Parokya ni Edgar. Well it’s not really the case for me, it’s been almost four months since I got rid of all the stress (and the money) to the chagrin of people who’ve been leeching depending on me. I’m a little bit worried about what the future may bring, but when you’re living for the moment who cares right?

The SO has been worried about my health because I’ve been staying up very late everyday it’s almost like I’m only sleeping every other day. I’m not really doing anything in particular, well blogging, yeah, and some other personal projects. But the idea of sleeping only when I’m on the verge of collapsing is fucking awesome. You sleep dreamless sleeps and you sort of pass out the moment your head touches your pillow.

For almost 120 days now, I’ve been doing whatever it is I felt like doing interrupted only by the necessary errands ordered by she-who-must-be-obeyed. I’ve been fishing every weekend too which is really awesome by the way. Some folks fish to get away from the stress brought about by their daily work. But when you’re fishing and you don’t have any stress to speak of? Bliss man, absolute fucking bliss.

Sorry for the cussing. I don’t know why but when I was driving back home after one of those errands (haaay) I felt like cussing. I wasn’t angry or anything, perhaps I just felt like imitating one of my former mates who cusses like a pirate when he gets drunk. In english. Fuckin’ A. That’s what he likes to say.

Anyway, back to the song. Don’t you think it’s kinda sad when you’re only happy 3x a week? Not that such was the message of the song but in a lot of cases I know, even a thrice weekly happiness cycle is quite rare. People are mostly miserable. Shit, when I was working I was miserable 5x a week. True I got more money then than things to buy (wahaha) but it couldn’t buy me any frigging happiness. I still felt miserable every single day.

Oh well, no need to take that bus.

I took a sensient being’s life yesterday (3 actually) to offer it on the altar of food. It seems ironic, cruel even, to see a fisherman’s big smile when he hooks a fish. The fish on the other hand wriggles and gasps at the same time, shocked at the pain and the sudden breathlessness as it’s suddenly taken out of the water by a foreign being.

It would be horrifying to be a fish I think. Although that’s always been the natural order of things. The food chain if you will. Nature has designed this predator-prey system so the strong can prey upon the weak. Natures intention however was for the strong to be able to eat the weak although it frowns on same species feasting.

I thus find it reprehensible that men would hunt or fish for sport. Even more reprehensible are those catch-and-release fishing variety. For fuck’s sake man, if you’re gonna catch fish, then dammit eat the fucking thing! Unless there’s really a compelling reason why you have to release it.

Oh well, man is a vicious being and sometimes getting an explanation on some of the barbaric things that men do can be futile.

In my case, the life of the fishes I’ve taken nourished a few friend’s stomachs, although I can’t get myself to partake of the food they’ve become. Looking at the now grilled fishes, I can still see them squirming while life exited slowly from their gills.

What can one really say to that? Sorry?

This is ridiculous.

I am once again sleep-deprived because of my absurd fear of missing my flight. I’m going to ruin another perfectly normal day just because of this neurosis. Whatever.

Having been land-locked (make that bed-locked) for more than a week now, I feel like I’ve retreated into myself even more. Going outside the house for example makes me nauseate. I was looking around SM the other day and I felt dizzy looking at the sky. Maybe the concept of a distant horizon is beginning to become a real threat to my bedroom existence.

After my ‘divorce’ I went home to the province and stayed there, drowning among hopeless relatives and friends, for almost two weeks. True, I barely have two coins to rub against each other but somehow I felt lighter, happier even. Days went faster but were very enjoyable. Even bringing my dad to the market for some ‘native’ breakfast was most satisfying.

When I came back to the big bad city a couple of days ago, I almost got depressed. I missed the smiling faces of those guys whose immediate problem was where to source the next meal. Not deadlines, or reviews, or appraisals. Meals. And they’re not stressed about it. The idea of me bellyaching at Starbucks sipping my P130 latte seemed like a cruel insult. A cruel joke. Here you have shiny happy people who must use their wits to scrounge for the next meal and… gah. Human misery, life’s unfair, Dickensian, take your pick. It’s a fucked up universe.

I’ve finally turned back the clock. I am sleeping like a normal human being now. Awake when I’m supposed to be awake, and asleep when I’m supposed to be asleep. Oh god, lead me to the slaughterhouse and butcher me whole. But this is boring! Happy perhaps, but boring like hell!

In a few hours I’ll be going back to the province to spend the lenten season there. Who am I kidding though? I’ll most definitely use all of that downtime playing mahjong with my titas and titos. Fun.

But anyway. It’s lent. A little sacrifice wouldn’t hurt.