THE LITTLE PRINCE

"Here you may see the best portrait that, later, I was able to make of him. But my drawing is certainly very much less charming than its model."

-The Little Prince, Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Bisaya Alert: Kaanyag

(Cebuano poem I've written when I was 17. Sketch made the other day.)

Sa samin, ang kaugalingon, nahikaplagan

Sa mata, ang panagway, nahibatyagan

Kon ugaling isulti, kini ba dautan?

Sa kasayuran, aduna ba gayoy utlanan?

Mga babayeng nagkanda-iya ug hitsura,

aron madawat nga gwapa,

kinahanglan ba magsubay ug usa ra ka porma?

Apan di ba kana imposible sanglit lain-lain kita’g mata?

Tambok- niwang, puti-itom

Tawag ba kini sa katahom?

Taas- mubo, intsik-budlat

Sa kaugalingon, kini ba nagbatbat?

Ang dakong pangutana

Sa akong hunahuna nagdagan.

Ang kaanyag, naa ba gayoy sukdanan

Ngano man sa pangdaut way pugong ang uban?

Angayan ba gayud

aron ang taw malipay,

sa isig-kaingon

kinahanglan mangtamay?

Busa kining sunod nga mga linya

Para kini kanimo…

Ikaw nga puro maot ang nakita

Imbes na ang maayo.

Kung ikaw tambukikay,

Sa mga niwang ayaw panghinaway.

Ug imong lawas bitaw mugamay,

Sa kamera di muundang magpahulagway.

Ikaw pud niwang, ayaw palabi.

Pagbiay-biay sa supang intawn undangi.

Dili tanan gustong maparehas kanimo

Ang uban, sa tinuod, nangandoy mudako.

Kung imong tupad nagmake-up,

Ayaw pagbu-ot.

Nganong masuko man ka?

Wala man siya manghilabot.

Bantay bitaw kung ikaw kaslon,

Make-up sa dagway, imong gamiton.

Ing-lakaw sa altar, ayaw nalang katingala

Imong dagway ug pamiste, mao rang kolora.

Kung imong gaway pirteng taasa

Unya imong li-og hastang habuga

Pagyubit sa mga hamubo ayaw pud anara

Wala sa kahitas-on ang pag-abot sa himaya.

Magpabuwad man ka sa adlaw

o mangnudnod ug chin chun su

Sige lang, padayon.

Kinabuhi man na nimo.

Apan kung ang panit nimo

imo nang nabayluan,

Ikalipay nalang na.

Ayaw na hilabti ang panit sa uban.

Taas- mubo, intsik-budlat, tambok- niwang, puti-itom.

Kinsa man gud gauna-una ug ingon

Nga niining gipares-pares nga pulong,

Ang usa bati, ang usa matahom?

Sama sa akong pag-ila

nga akong dagway “lapad”

Dili kana pagpangdaut

samut dili pagpangandak.

Sa akong pagsaysay niini,

wala akoy gustong ipadayag

Kundi ang yanong kamatuoran

nga akong nawng murag basak: patag.

Dili tanan nga naghulagway sa kaugalingon, nagbagutbot.

Ang uban kamatuoran lang ang gustong ipa-sabot

Nga sa ilang mata aduna silay natataw

Dili kana pagpakaluoy, o pagpakagarbo, o pagpakaulaw.

Tuod ikaw walay korona

O titulo nga ikaw gwapa

Ayaw kana ikabalaka

Kay ikaw, inday, walay susama.

Mahimo nga ikaw wala nanumbaling niining akong gipangsulti

Mahimo usab nga ikaw nahimuot.

Apan sa akong gipangyawyaw, kini’y importante:

“Nga ang sukdanan sa kaanyag ikaw ang magbuot.”

Less than three

< 3

I know... I know... The nerve right? Well, I have long lost all my sense of inhibition ever since I fell down the steps of my school years back... and I thought to myself, nothing could be worse than that (Not even me playing the guitar, singing the song and posting it online. HAHA!) Ok, here goes. Let your ears bleed and I'll enjoy. :) Unless you enjoy bleeding too, then---you ENJOY! ^_^ It's an old video but it makes me proud I got the rhythm with the guitar right. Spare me the criticism. I already know. :)

Pinoy Folklore

Aswang, Manananggal, Tiyanak, Duwende, Kapre, Agta, Mangkukulam, Maligno, Tikbalang, Sigbin, White Lady/Kaperosa, Bampira, Pugot, Nuno sa Punso, Siyokoy, Wak-wak, Bungisngis, Santelmo... the list goes on.

I do not know about today's generation, but when I was young, stories of these folklore creatures were among the most popular. My auntie used to tell us varied true-to-life (or so she says) stories about them before we go to bed and they were the best I have ever heard. I would lie in bed thinking about them before sleeping and I'd dream about them whilst asleep. Don't get me wrong, I am no Elias Paniki. Truth be told, I'm chickensh**. But I love a good story...scary or otherwise. I once even wanted to be like the Brothers Grimm and swore to myself that when I grow old enough to drive, I'd travel far and wide in search of never-before known stories. I thought maybe that would make me a legend of some sort.

Of course, time passed... I grew up... Stories of the folklore creatures were reduced to half-assed films with over-the-top editing and effects... and I never learned how to drive. But every now and then I am still reminded of those creatures of the night especially this time of the year when halloween's just around the corner. Still scares the crap out of me. But I love it still. I think that's he whole point of the story after all: to be scary. Not that it had to be necessary told through illustrations, overrated cinematography, or whathaveyous. They're cool and all. But more often than not, they tend to overshadow the whole story and the story gets lost in translation. It's sad. I think a good story is that which lets the mind work. Let the mind imagine things... let it speculate,  let it doubt, let it suspect,  --- to let it be it's own evil so to speak. That's when you get the experience.

To everybody who knows a good folklore or two, I would encourage you to pass it on. Tell it to a friend, a niece, a nephew, a young neighbor who pisses you off... tell it. Be a storyteller and tell it.

Let the stories of the night and the dead live. Happy Halloween.

bring in the Kleenex!

My body’s been different lately. And no, I’m not talking about puberty.

It’s really weird how I’ve been getting frequently sick over the past few months. It has only been a few weeks past since I have had a fever, which, if I may add, unfortunately fell on my summer class’ final examination day. (And it cost me a few items on my test, thankyouverymuch.)

But then, even if I’m still trying to recover, here I am again facing yet another illness.

My eyes are actually drooping like that of a person with Horner’s syndrome as I continue to stare at the computer screen. With a tissue paper strategically wedged on my right running nostril, I am having hard time breathing --- *sniff-sniff*--- and with my left uncontrollably snuffling the dust off of my keyboard, my condition’s getting worse.

Yes, obviously, I have the colds.

I really just hope it’s not A(H1N1). Well, I haven’t been in contact with anyone who could’ve have had the virus. But in this age and time, not to mention with today’s disturbed state, nothing is impossible. Who knows if our Labrador, Rocky, might be nursing the viral disease? Or our boarder? Or the old lady who asked for scrap? Or the mosquito that feasted on my ever watertight legs yesterday?

Who knows, right?

To tell the truth, I think I got the colds from my niece. She was suffering from it last week and she might’ve contracted the disease to me. I haven’t left the house to go gallivanting since I had myself enrolled, so there’s a great chance Zeniah’s the culprit.
Out of all the possibilities that I have presented, together with the mosquito and all, I think this one’s 98% true. *teehee*

(Pause. I have to change the tissue paper on my right nostril with a fresh one. It’s getting soggy and unpleasantly heavy.)

…
…
…
…

Ok, where were we?

Aw, yeah--- the colds.

I was already in bed when I felt something mucoid from my nose. I kept wiping it off every now and then but there was just no stopping. It kept me awake thereafter.
So here I am, typing away this entry.

I haven’t taken any meds yet. I was supposed to take one this evening and I asked my mother for a cold tablet. Apparently, we ran out of stock. I’ve decided to fix myself some juice instead. But then again, we ran out of that as well. So, in the end, I settled with water and a glass of fresh milk.

So far, I don’t feel well. But I have faith. Maybe tomorrow, I’ll be better.

Pray for me? =D

shit happens

‘Shit happens,’ they say… true enough it always does.

I’m not likely to come in regular terms with neither Luck nor Wellness. I am more attached to Luck’s wicked brother Calamity.

The truth of the matter is I’ve subliminally been a living example of Murphy’s Law for almost all, if not all, my life: What can go wrong, will go wrong.

It has only been recently that I have finally affirmed this… or, say, accepted. It didn’t really occur to me that I was jinxed… and if, by chance, it did, it eventually landed up being tossed at the ‘stupid-idea’ box and shelved at the ‘crazy-speculation’ ledge. I always found ways to dismiss any thoughts, suggesting that I had badluck written all over me.

I assumed that getting lost at church at the age of 6, which almost got me adopted, was only a life-spicing encounter;
I assumed that falling down the stairs during 4th grade was just a call by science to prove ‘gravity’ to me;
I assumed that damaging or losing 15 cellphones by unnatural cause was an opportunity of having a new one every now and then;
I assumed that entering a classroom by mistake, thinking it was my subject room assignment, was a way of meeting new people (regardless of the humiliation of being acknowledged for not being on the class list);
I assumed that destroying 2 dvd players, 2 desktops, 1 laptop, 1 mp3 and 2 mp4 players(1 of which is not even mine), 2 headphones and 2 inkjet printers was just a matter of faulty gadget purchase;
I assumed that my failure to take a picture of Chito Miranda at the Boracay airport even though he was literally sitting right next to me was because it would’ve made me appear like a pathetic fanatic (though I have nightmares about that meeting every night since then).

I have had myriad assumptions that got me off the hook from being called ill-fated. To some, those were lame excuses; to me, those were justifying reasons.

But it took me only one head-knocking incident to jolt me back to sentience:
Getting my hair stuck at the vent of my hair blower was the last straw.

I could still feel pain at the area where the blower bestowed its hot kisses the other day… its really HOT kisses. It was so hot; I think it fried my mind to ultimately conclude that I am indeed a mistress of calamity.

I don’t really know why life has chosen to torment me out of a billion other people. I mean, I’m good. I’m so good I could be Mother Theresa incarnate…

So how come bad things happen to me?