Monthly Archives: August 2010

that’s it

this is what my friend karen valeza says for eureka moments.

that’s it. it’s gratifying to say it to yourself (or even out loud!) when you’ve proven to yourself a point or two.

so that’s it for the following:

– my good friend belen is now a doctor! yey! she deserves it. congratulations to all scholasticans/kulasas who made it.

– this day made me swear off ‘bad’ friends — unhealthy presence, dead weight, who pull one down. crab mentality is said to be a characteristic of filipinos. but ever since learning about Cultural Studies, i’ve learned about interpellation. say, you heard someone calling out, “hey you”. without even waiting for your name to be called, you turn around and acknowledge that vague summons. assuming, in colloquial terms. but in nosebleed mode, it means you’ve claimed and are living out his or her ‘recognition’ of you. thus we are living up to that stereotype that we are a people imbibing crab mentality (among other wondrous fruits of ideology). but setting aside serious jargon what with my post-pissed-off phase, i can feel my resentment gutting my flesh out. to be crass, ibang level, their sense of entitlement. to paraphrase a kick-ass quote from “she’s the man” (yes, yes, i admit, it’s a guilty pleasure): girls with sensibility like mine do not hang out with girls with vapid personalities like yours. that’s it.

– my thirty-something friends who jazz generously ‘shared’ with me. they are super sweet and loving and caring AND beastly and all monstrous and mothering when friends of theirs get hurt. i am blessed to be buffered by these people.

– another raket that’s difficult with a work contract to match having ambiguous terms. should have known better.

– 3 papers due this month, 1 objective exam scheduled, 1 delayed magazine issue that should be released asap, writing gig, ballet, brewing business, drive to save more for that target trip and that target savings, etc. etc. plus my hunger to write and write and read and read poetry = one very agitated girl.

that’s it.



i’m so proud of neil patrick harris (of how i met your mother fame) and partner david burtka who are expecting twins this fall.

wouldn’t it be nice to have a version in the future titled how i met your father based on n.p.h.?
imagine a similar humor as modern family with the punch of the big bang theory? oh, to die for.

time to suit up for fatherhood, guys! i’m sure you’ll do great.

neil patrick harris, david burtka, mickey mouse

Photo courtesy of

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not waving but drowning…

in too much work and looming deadlines for acads.

i want september and october to end but it means i have to start working on my papers. and i don’t want to.

song lyrics keep on drifting in my head from “baby i’m losing my mind” to “gotta have faith, faith, faith” to “say goodnight and go..any excuse to stay awake with you”.

pfft, i wish i can travel to calvin’s world and stay there.

this kid and his friend...such darlings

[this blog entry is not for “mature” and overtly responsible individuals]


at 407 km/h (a la Bugatti Veyron)

so here i am rushing to finish reading a handout on feminist criticism (catherine belsey is a god for her simple words and relatable examples) while snooping on the past lives of a couple of M.A. classmates (twitter, multiply — a profusion of words and images they’re just mind-boggling) driven by curiosity as driven by their choices of genre — poetry and CNF — and realizing that hey, maybe for my final thesis i can opt to do dance pieces a la merlinda bobis as opposed to my original plan of contributing to the meager (and i mean meager in the sense of quantity) ‘canon’ of lesbian literature in our neck of the woods, and then i realized maybe i can ground my subjectivity in those two — see, hitting two birds with one sure aim of a stone — since dance is a way of liberating your body and your sensibility and releasing and living out your sexuality are also ways of dancing to your songs and rhythms and leaping away from haters and bigots; thus adding another set of tasks to my humongous to-do list that in itself requires a rhythm, an organization, a personality of epic patience, “a shudder in the god. a gale.”

gotta go, have class.


sanctified but for a minute

i am possessive when it comes to my fascination towards and ownership (!) of approximately 15 artists — writers, visual artists and singers — to the point that i don’t mention their names when i write about them here. i’m not sure why. maybe it’s because they reflect facets of myself or some segments of my history that specificying them would be too revealing. or maybe it’s a way of protecting them from posers and more posers. i feel sanctified because of these artists’s creations, and when there’s a lukewarm poser lurking, it just makes me bare my darkling soul’s teeth. grr. yes, grr.

i was hit by this urge to dance while commercial was on for an episode of SYTYCD. i was listening to a song of one of my hallowed artists, and i ended up doing some moves a la contemporary (i’m sure a very poor version. a poser, then? heh). i was so into it that

sanctified for a minute. priceless.

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Protected: A photo at a book launch

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