Itchy Itchy

Half asleep into the night, I was scratching my body: neck area, arms, midrib, my back… as I woke up, I was still scratching… now, as I am typing this, my neck and back and upper arms would itch, preventing me from typing properly.

Insect bites? nah, too widespread. Chicken pox? nah, I’ve had those. Allergy? Yep.

Though I drink alcohol occasionally (social gatherings, parties, etc. like red wine, and beer), and quite proven that I don’t get drunk easily (understatement), there’s this one major defect that makes me not want to drink sometimes: I am extremely allergic to alcoholic beverages, particularly beer.

One bottle of beer would effectively give me hives. An hour or two after drinking. It is not deadly though, but it does get really bothersome. I drank three bottles last night as my mom dragged us in this birthday party of a Tita Arlene, at Pier One in BF. Now I regret having drunk, cos of these — hives– itches…

So, if you know any antidotes, remedies, cures — comment here please. XD

Dickinson

First–Chill–then Stupor–then the letting go–

The Hidden Compromise

My travel time from school to my home has been reduced by forty-five minutes! What used to take ninety minutes to travel, now only takes forty-five minutes, a whopping reduction of fifty percent in travel time! This is probably the upside of the escalating price of fuel: lesser vehicles on the road.

If my memory serves me right, two years ago,  it was said by my Comparative Politics professor that everyday, Filipinos lose an approximate P176 million to heavy traffic! Imagine that. Traffic costs us a lot in losses due to inefficiency that ranges from failed freight deliveries, to lost sales opportunites, and tuition fees wasted by class hours spent being stuck in traffic. And what about opportunity costs that have been hampered by that stubborn jeepney in the middle of the road? Your personal pitch for an ad that would have earned your company gabillions, only shot down by an unyielding Toyota? Or what about perishable goods, which perished under the scorching heat of the sun because the freeway was not really “free”?

All gone, gone gone. The high price of fuel has taken them with it to the sky. Or did it?

The law of conservation of mass and energy states that neither can be added nor subtracted in the universe. If this should hold true in my traffic-losses-assumption, the P176 million worth of losses in traffic is still here, that is if money can be translated to mass or energy, which I am sure it can, only transposed to a different side of the equation.

Because there has never been a change in terms of efficient demand in land transportation, neither an increase nor a decrease, but rather a change in terms of demands in modes of land transportation, the the transposition of losses must happen in the change of preference in terms of modes of land transportation. In other words, we still carry a burden of approximate losses of P176 million daily, only in a less abstract way. How?

First, there is the hike in terms of fare. Name it: jeepneys, shuttles, tricycles, taxis, FX. Since demand for these modes of transportation has been virtually the same, the amalgam of the additional fare added recently would represent a significant part of the formerly abstract P176 million daily losses in traffic, now concrete. Secondly, part of that formerly abstract daily loss of P176 million is transposed to your energy losses everytime you wait in a jampacked station of the LRT for hours just to board the transit system. Calculating that loss, you probably burn twice or thrice as much energy than you would have two years ago before this fuel crisis blew up. You end up eating more food (which is stricken with inflation, by the way) as you burn more energy by making “tipid” by walking or waiting in longer queues, because a lot more people seem to be making the same “pagtitipid”, hence, a crowd. In LRT. Lastly, part of that P176 million of daily losses is transposed to… well, government subsidies! You know, those unsustainable one-shot, one-go, fire-and-forget activities that should cater to the poor. The great chunk of those subsidies was funded by Extra-Value Added Tax collected from oil companies which you shoulder in the long run.

So, there. And you thought traffic was better today. Well, the costs are still here, and they won’t be gone, I bet, for a very long time.

PS Don’t get me wrong, I am not pushing for the removal of E-VAT on fuel. Just pointing out where the costs go.

The Sound Called Music

Finally, I found my long lost CD of Hanson (album called Underneath), lying in my brother’s bedroom in his bookshelf. I could listen to it everyday. Hastily I picked it up, turned on the computer, and plugged it in.

Isn’t it amazing, how music finds you, and then you feel that somehow, you are the music and the music is you? There is an inexplicable musical communion. And as much as the music belongs to Hanson, it’s also quite true that it belongs to you. Unlike other music, which just get stuck so superficially inside your head because of a certain defect of song syndrome, my music –my favorite music– penetrates the soul… just to find sync with that unique, personal, musical DNA embedded in you. Only then can there be perfect resonance by the soul from the music. Once that music — vibrations in the air — reaches your ears, your whole being would just seem to reverberate the whole sound, words and all. And then you realize you like the band because you like the music, not the other way around. Some bands are really just facade and not really about music. Boy bands, for example.

I tend to be very picky in my music, and I realize that I don’t know much of what today’s youth are listening to. I cannot appreciate RnB, Rap, Soul, Reggae, Techno, and all the other genres people listen to today. I don’t connect to those. Yes, I am very exclusive in music. However, there are four bands that made it to my personal playlist: Hanson, The Calling, Incubus, and Maroon 5.

What do I look for in music? Good, well written lyrics, and some rock. You know how the four bands compose their music, so you get the whole idea. Yeah, a band has to compose its music, that adds points too. I AM NOT anti-OPM, ok? I just find that the good bands here don’t fit my taste, while the mainstream music here are, well, too cliche (redundant for emphasis)… and are very bad lyricists. Listen to Hale. Or Cueshe! Haha. But all the same, every person has unique taste in music.

Keep listening, keep loving. Music. As long as it is music.

Friday

     IS SUPPOSED TO BE the best day of the week: workers get to relax after work, hang out at some place, and enjoy the start of the weekend with friends. That. doesnotholdtrueforus.

Although Friday is a non-class day for us fourth year majors of polsci, we sometimes have to maximize the week for our subjects. Barely having any sleep the previous night and exhausted from my trip to the Department of Agriculture (DA) and UP Diliman where we shot scenes for our documentary on the DA, I decided to write the long day in my blog, albeit body unwilling.

Well, the security guards were very accommodating at the DA; they showed us where to enter because we were trying to enter through the exit, and they even gave a stiff saludo as the Revo revved in. We also chanced upon its employees staging a protest against the relocation of the agency to far-flung Isabela Province. They were all wearing red. Inside the premises, there were neatly arranged patches of herbs and crops planted, and some fish ponds too if I am not mistaking the sqaure enclosures with running water for something else. Inside the bulding, it was roomy and almost pleasant, it even had a store for Philippine food products on the first floor.

However, the person we came there to interview was not available because the counterpart from the USDA (United States Department of Agriculture?) was also there. We couldn’t do anything and we were instead reffered to another secretary who is under the policies department of the DA, who was quite warm and welcoming and accommodating. It was, however, not what we expected or wanted, as she only presented a powerpoint presentation while discussing it, but answered (unknowingly) our would-be questions as well while she did it. Not bad, but not good as well… we intended to make a documentary out of it, and her style was nowhere near documentarty.

After the DA, we decided (for some random reason) to shoot the sequences of our documentary in UP Diliman, which, despite its relatively younger age compared to UST, always reminded me of the olden days. Everything in the shoot turned out quite well, since UP Diliman was a very good place to shoot because of the lighting, the greenery, and simply the aura. While we were having fun, we were all of us exhausted too, and sleepy. We decided to forego one scene, which was awkward anyway. (Thanks to the scriptwriter. Me.) Oh, and I also realized what “Philcoa” meant; I only ever read it on jeepneys but I saw it in Quezon City: Philippine Coconut Authority. There’s an authority for coconuts? hehehe.

On my way home, I had to take a jeep to Quiapo from that area of Qezon City, which is inadvisable because of the heat, the glacial pace of the jeep, and exposure to pollution. But nonetheless I reached Lawton where there are shuttles going to Sucat. Exhausted and very sleepy, I felt that I had to occupy the front seat all for myself, the better that I could sleep, and I did not mind the extra fare; at least I would not be dozing off onto someone’s shoulder.

I fell asleep just after seconds of boarding the shuttle. But the kindly driver kept waking me up: first at the US Embassy; he tried to let another passenger on my space, he did not know I was paying for two (apparently he did not hear the barker telling him that). I awoke and rummaged for P70 in my bag, handed it to him, “BF po yan,” I said, and then I fell asleep instantly. Not long afterwards, the driver woke me up again at the airport: “Bossing, dito na po kayo?” he asked. “Sa BF po ako,” I said, then I fell asleep again. Apparently, on those two occassions that I said my destination, he did not hear it. Only when I woke up to the sound of a whimpering baby at the back (so annoyoing, but now I couldn’t believe I had wanted to put a sock in the child’s mouth just to make it stop; one of my bad traits actually… I get dangerous when I am awakened at a very bad time) did the driver ask me again, to which I managed to laugh and smile and say, “sa BF po.” He explained why he kept asking (he did not understand what I said).

Finally, I was in BF. But I had to stop at a Mercury Drug store to buy two apple juice — I was dehydrated. I got home, turned on the PC and stared at it for quite a while. It was slow to start up, so I got up, went to the fridge, and drank the remaining half-bottle of Coke there. I was really dehydrated.

Yep. It was a loooong day. Good night!

Dropping the Shota*

In Japanese otaku speak, shota means a guy who looks a lot younger than the average male of his age. Lolita, on the other hand, is the female counterpart of shota. I am neither both. In fact, I am the opposite (in an almost infinitesimal degree!). And Garry who turned thirty yesterday, likes to rub it in. But before I get to that story, let me recount an incident which happened two weeks ago.

I was explaining the mechanics for presentation of a certain report to the class up in front of the room. Naturally, since we were in class, we were all wearing uniform. I was about to write the contents of our presentation on the whiteboard when there came a knock on the door. I beckoned the girl to come in, first year by the looks of her.

Me: Yes? Ano kelangan mo? (there was no professor)

Her: Um, good afternoon sir, may kukunin lang po ako… naiwan ko.

Me: Errr… Ah okey.

The class burst out laughing. She called me sir.  And a good afternoon to couple it with; not your usual student-to-student greet, but more like student-to-professor speak mode. Thanks a lot, very. And I was in uniform, at that!

And now to the other story, where Garry whenever there would be new guys coming to the study center, would have a habit of making them guess our age. If I remember correctly, this was also the habit of Lawrence, who looks six years younger than he actually is. Interestingly, they would bask at every wrong guess made by the guys, because it always hit the lower age. Interestingly again, only young-looking guys grow this kind of habit.

As for me, getting dragged into the guessing game is almost normal. And being guessed at 25 is already, quite modest. A while ago, I was guessed to be 28 years old! The guessor thought he was being tactful. And Garry? Thirty-year-old Garry? He was guessed at 24. I am young and I just turned twenty, people of the world! I even came to the study center in a high school get up — cargo pants, my black Switchfoot shirt, and black Chucks. Rockster mode (which I honestly am), a very stark contrast to my usual dark pants, leather shoes, and collared top (formal wear). But alas. Twenty-eight daw.  

Sigh. But I guess I will just live with its benefits. Like, being mistaken as a professor, and getting free passes at the entrance (I lost my electronic ID), and looking intelligent, haha! So, fine. I am dropping any hopes of becoming shota! Twenty-eight years old?! Seriously…

Writing Philosophies

“When you ‘run out’ of things to write, It’s not the things around you that has stopped to be, but the mind which has stopped to see.” -Anonymous

“Everything is waiting to be written… but not everything should be read.” -Anonymous

“I think the best writers are those who routinely converse with themselves silently… that way they are more adept to convey their thoughts more creatively to the audience.” -Anonymous

“A person burning in the pits, being constantly gutted at the throat, whose burning tounge is sliced a thousand times, while forcibly ingesting boiling oil. Now that is plagiarism.” -Anonymous

“Writing is the most beautiful way of preservation. And Dumbledore’s Pensieve is its fictional metaphor.” -Anonymous

“Anonymous is the humble genius.” -Anonymous