on the dilemma: WHERE YOU SHOULD BE and WHERE YOU WANT TO BE

you should always be where you will be at peace with yourself and that's only possible when you are where you want to be. i know people who are rich beyond my telling and have achieved monumental things... regretfully though their present circumstance is NOT exactly what they want. the fleeting sense of achievement and the more fleeting fun of showing off their brand new LV are their intermittent reminders that they chose to be unhappy.

it's like a grant to take the last trip of your life. as a mickey fan you've always wanted to go to disneyland 'cause you grew up watching mickey and goofy but you went to las vegas for poker games 'cause that's what you expect yourself to do or what people expect you to do. surely, vegas' bright lights are rockin' fun...but only until the neons are on.

like an indie

There's that eerie feel again. One a.m. shower. It feels like I’m living inside an indie film.

My typically dull senses seem amplified. Each shower drip takes a note when each hit the cheap tiles...an ethereal re or an unfamiliar sol and the re-sol, re-sol sequence replaces a supposedly enya-tic musical score if it were a commercial movie as the director's shaky hands point the camera to the semi-dusty fluorescent bulb to cue an abstract end.

late night work out

it's half past 11 pm and i'm still lifting weights in between typing these words.

i've been working out since 2002...stopped for 7 years and back at it late october last year.

i am alarmingly hooked up at lifting heavy weights...130 lbs on the bench press...

i guess i am back

a new blogger buddy asked me and his other friends to be straightforward and be critical on his writings:

i wrote this:

"half a decade of blogging and i pen no better than my high school theme-writing days. but i've been to several hundreds if not a few thousands of sites and read more blog posts than the number of verses in the bible and in the qu'ran combined...thrice!

your blog lacks life. you're full of heartbeats in 4D...that is why i enjoy your company a lot..but you are rather dull in HTML format.

breathe life into your pieces. that's where i toss my 2 cents.

3 posts in a few weeks...you're doing just fine... pen some more buddy.

PS

here are some of my fave:

http://www.momel8.blogspot.com/
http://thebashfulone.blogspot.com/"


right after clicking "post", i felt like writing again. and i just did. i guess I AM back.

Work it!

i sent a resume to a bank thinking i can work there as an accountant but they set the interview to test if i can manage one branch. i shrugged and agreed to sit with a panel. things you do for a buck!

I'm. not. good. at. panel. interviews! wa!!

can't i just send a video like elle woods did?


i can rant in flawless English under two circumstances only: 1. when i am under the influence of tequila or tequila-based cocktails or 2. when the issue is about high-fashion.

darn!

in good terms

Walid, our Sudanese classmate was the fourth to the last person who left the room. A tower of 6'2, he is probably the tallest and most dark skinned (perhaps one the most handsome) person I ever took a midterm exam with.

Closing the door after him, his first sentence was: "I used all the English words I know on the exam."

Terrell Owens

I scoffed, "Me too, except the words vagina and orifice."

He laughed, I didn't.

Ten p.m., eighteen degrees Celsius and a petition for a re-take in mind, I ordered fresh milk at a Session Road bar and commenced my unprecedented dairy protest.

A week later: UP economics major Kat, the last soul to pass her paper took home a 99. Paulo from SLU's debate team placed second with a 97. Later in the evening, the Baguio breeze still 18 degrees, at the Giligans the third placer with his blue margarita was sipping away the end of his lactose protest.

The Busy and The Beautiful

I guess my smudgy title says it all.

Momel dear (and all my blog peers), I promise to go through all your new posts as soon as my HP IPAQ scheduler says I'm free as fuck.

---

Anyway...

I stumbled upon a

a. good
b. very good
c. OMG very good
d. life changing

(it really depends on:
a. your reading comprehension
b. how fucked-up your life is )

read by Carlo Ignacio. And I'm really keen on sharing it to all.

Are you really happy?

In My Life: It's a Mother's Day Movie

Let's not bring out the pom-poms yet, the movie has nothing to do with us. A three second kiss PATTING of lips is anything but what we expected it to be.



photo from: http://pinoygossipboy.i.ph/blogs/pinoygossipboy/2009/09/17/movie-review-in-my-life/

Stand your guard sisters, the apparently gay-infested star cinema is really gay sanitized.

As for the film's merits (or the lack thereof)...hell, its numerous unnecessary plots made it appear lazily done. I was teary-eyed alright, teary-eyed from all the yawns. The a. shouting b. crying c. dancing d. slapping... please... there are other ways to tell a story. The Filipinos are (much much!) smarter than what you give them credit for.

Then again, I'm a mere mortal in the realm of films, hence, I yield to a more reliable reviewer:

"We really wanted "In My Life" to be one of the few films that we will always look back on and cherish as a film that brings a glimmer in our eyes. Unfortunately, that dream won't happen. So what made "In My Life" bad? First, it was definitely not the acting. We all have praises for the three main protagonists. Vilma was just at her best here and John Lloyd showed how much drama he can show out. Luis needs more improvement but he actually performed well being a homosexual so still, props to him. Second, it also wasn't the lack of drama thereof. There were oodles upon oodles of scenes where tears will fall and we also liked the occasional break from all the heaviness with light comedic scenes scattered all over the film.

Unfortunately, even with all the topnotch acting and drama, the simple truth is that "In My Life" left out one big aspect in a film and that is the story/plot. The story of "In My Life" was just too much for us too digest as there are a lot of unnecessary subplots happening all over the place (especially by the end of the film). As a viewer, we just wanted it to end but the film just gave more, more and more. We think the writers just forced it to have lots of dramatic avenues just for the sake that people will cry. As the saying goes, too much of anything is bad and this holds true here as they do not mesh well. Cry you will but you will might also wonder why. Even though it had unusual twists, it will make you think if it was really necessary to have them happen that way as an effective means to move the story forward. For us, they were not. "

review from: http://www.reeladvice.net/2009/09/in-my-life-movie-review.html


other reviews:
Jessica Zafra
Nestor Torre

Devil Anna

was editing my power point presentation in international management...

phone call: "the devil is all over youtube"

i saved my file and closed power point application...

open youtube




power point slides...magazines, pwede.

Fuck This Song! I Laveeet!

"So you say
It's not okay to be gay
Well I think you're just evil
You're just some racist who can't tie my laces
Your point of view is medieval"





"Fuck You (Very Much)"

Look inside
Look inside your tiny mind
Now look a bit harder
Cause we're so uninspired, so sick and tired of all the hatred you harbor

So you say
It's not okay to be gay
Well I think you're just evil
You're just some racist who can't tie my laces
Your point of view is medieval

Fuck you
Fuck you very, very much
Cause we hate what you do
And we hate your whole crew
So please don't stay in touch

Fuck you
Fuck you very, very much
Cause your words don't translate
And it's getting quite late
So please don't stay in touch

Do you get
Do you get a little kick of being slow minded?
You want to be like your father
It's approval your after
Well that's not how you find it

Do you
Do you really enjoy living a life that's so hateful?
Cause there's a hole where your soul should be
Your losing control of it and it's really distasteful

Fuck you
Fuck you very, very much
Cause we hate what you do
And we hate your whole crew
So please don't stay in touch

Fuck you
Fuck you very, very much
Cause your words don't translate and it's getting quite late
So please don't stay in touch

Look inside
Look inside your tiny mind
Now look a bit harder
Cause we're so uninspired, so sick and tired of all the hatred you harbor

Fuck you
Fuck you very, very much
Cause we hate what you do
And we hate your whole crew
So please don't stay in touch

Fuck you
Fuck you very, very much
Cause your words don't translate and it's getting quite late
So please don't stay in touch

MY FRIENDSTER IS SWARMED BY TINY BALD BEINGS

Unless some magical shit has turned my friends into midgets suffering from severe case of hair loss and some dental disease, I’d like to think that all of these profile photos of bald, toothless beings in my Friendster list are human babies.

These babies aren’t my friends. They’re my nieces, my nephews who will one day show up at my doorstep with a warrant of arrest for multiple gift evasion suits.

I wonder why they are posing as my friends.

My friends party hard! My friends eat Cosmopolitan for breakfast and devour Vogue for lunch. They chain smoke. They drink too much coffee and live on tequila.

They don’t watch Tagalog movies (at least they pretend that they do not). They pick-on my bad English. They’ve been to an Alanis tour and would be at a Tori Amos’ given a chance.

They gyrate with INOJ. They sleep late and wake-up later.

Gad I miss my college friends.

Perhaps they’ve left.

Cry-fitting infants are standing-in for them while they’re gone to some where-adults-should-be-when-they-turn-30 convention.

Diaper clad kids have taken their place.

Maybe they’re all gone.



Maybe I stayed behind.

I Wish the Tales of Mother Goose are true.

I feel lazy, gang-raped tired and sleepy.

In many ways a week long repose in Pangasinan is a viable relief. But getting haunted by VISA receivables department people for months end may not worth a few weeks of fucking rest.

Wouldn’t it be great if we humans can elect to die temporarily?

I’m not talking about being medically dead and then waking-up from coma later or the excommunicable undertone of death and resurrection and the founding of a new religion. I’m thinking more in the vein of death-like deep sleep—ala hibernation.

Falling into a cavernous sleep ala Sleeping Beauty without the need to eat and excrete, do debit-credit, answer phone calls, send tuition-money back home, add weird people to your FRIENDSTER list, blah blah blah and wake-up like you’re zany Cameron Diaz the morning after an earth-shattering Justin Timberlake shag is not too much to ask, is it?

Fucking River

Rivers shocked the Logies audience when she said "I don't know why the fuck I'm here.”
---

How can a 72-year old woman make you laugh? She has to be Joan Rivers, period.

Half-sober Rivers presented an award at the Logies (the Australian equivalent of the Emmy Awards) and was unsurprisingly consistently herself.

She said “fuck” twice live on national TV, made fun of the Tom-Katie-Suri craze and chastised the Aussie people to “grow up”.

Joan Rivers was awarded with a complementary trophy, a pink one! [silver trophies are given to category winners while the the gold Logie is awarded to the most Popular TV personality of the year] After the co-presenter handed her the special Logie, there was a short applause from the dining crowd. And while delivering her “I’m-so-touched” line, she threw the pink monstrosity across her shoulder, the thing went rolling on the stage while Joan nonchalantly proceeded with her presenting duties.

Everyone went ape laughing.

Instead of reading out the nominees she stooped down to pick-up the trophy, waved it to everyone and announced that they can post a bid for it at E-bay the next day.

She then complained “it’s the most disgusting trophy I ever received”.

The whole thing was so hilarious I almost forgot about how blandly (a few of them—horrendously) dressed most of the Aussie TV stars were.

But I’ll be diplomatic and will keep the rest of my Logies 2006 red-carpet thoughts to myself. Papua New Guinea is still an Australian lair. This aint neutral ground!

What is life without comedy and ill-dressed stars?