I Am Patzs

Lazy Sunday

2011-10-09T07:34:00.000-07:00

Watched 3 films today. The Fighter. Christian Bale is a hell of an amazing actor. Diary of a Nymphomaniac. A Spanish film about a woman struggling with her desire to fuck all night long. She's so slim that I'd want to have a girlfriend like her. Tree of Life. My friend complained with the complexity of the film but I loved it. Unusually a non conventional American film. Yesterday, the film "Dolphin Tale" is very inspiring. People should stop complaining and instead be grateful for what life has to give. Watching movie and eating in a day makes me guilty. Just did a research on Capoeira. Be joining Manila's Capoeira next month. I need it. A bit of sedentary life ain't healthy.

Wanting more of "The Bayot in the Bukid"

2011-10-03T08:07:00.000-07:00

Someone followed my twitter account, the follower's smile took my attention. Checked the follower's followers until I landed into a blogger whining about people leaving (relationship, work and even blogging), one of whom is Mandaya Moore. Mandaya's last post's on February 9, 2011 with last words:

And Mandaya Moore lived happily ever after. Alone.

He's a good storyteller. Very sensible, romantic, down to earth and funny stories of his straight male lovers and gay friends. He reminds me of Coconuter. The nomad thing. The unusual joy one gets in the simple, satisfying life of the rural communities. Mandaya's friend, Fiona, took a leak (or doing the number 2?) alongside the dusty public road. Doing it in remote can be safe since a few people or motorized vehicles are expected to pass by. I used to park my motorized bike anywhere in my hometown's outback areas when nature calls and pee among the coconut trees. Sometimes I'd pull out my tool for the world to see, facing the rice field or the sea with no worries. The world felt like it's mine and had the nature as witness to my boldness. Pungent urine leaking, like the earth should have been grateful for the organic nutrients from it.

But why am I here in Manila and not wanting to go back. The courage to go home is gone. Longing to leave Manila. Or is it Manila?

Not back home. I'd go somewhere else. Asia. Pacific. Europe. Anywhere. I might just live in Batanes. The urge in running away strikes again.

When Mandaya stopped writing, writer Kane went to Mindanao and interviewed the former. Glad the phenomenal Miss Mandaya will be back.

Horrible Bosses (Film)

2011-09-25T00:15:00.000-07:00

At last, an adult comedy for this year. Watched the film with Anne in Sta. Lucia East Grand Mall, amazingly cheap at P160 in premiere seat. Sta. Lucia has one of the biggest screen compared to other non IMAX movie houses in Greater Manila Area.

Horrible Bosses is horribly funny and Jennifer Aniston is one big versatile actor. She plays the sex-crazed dentist of an engaged dental assistant (Charlie Day). Jason Bateman, stereotyped again as working class in this movie, a subordinate of emotionally abusive Kevin Spacey. Kurt Buckman has to work with dickhead Colin Farrell after the latter's father (the original kind boss) died of heart attack.

To get rid of their bosses, they decided to kill the horrible bosses. After paying thousands of dollars for their murder-consultant Jamie Foxx, Foxx turns out to be an impostor and has never killed anyone, but does piracy for a living.

Aniston was a favorite. Her hair is dyed dark brown and skin is tanned. She is hilariously funny in this new role, after seeing her in the usual romantic comedy for past years.

Rating: 5 stars out of 5.

Went to Starbucks afterwards. Got free coffee jelly frappe from my friend's coupon. Irritating to the throat, too sweet. Smoked and talked about us being corporate slaves, running to smoke in less than 15 minutes insuring to get back to most-hated cubicles in time. How long should one work?

(Image source: www.twitchfilm.com)

Sunday

2011-09-18T00:41:00.000-07:00

Dark clouds fill the sky
The heat wraps my skin that is dry
I don't have a fridge
Cold water I need to feed.

Tummy makes a sounds
So hungry it shouts out loud
Looking for cheap foods along the hall.

One hundred twenty three and eighty-eight cents
Remaining cash on the ATM
Cigarettes, corned beef and a pill
One hundred twenty three and thirty-six cents comes my bill.

Three days
Heyday
Will get my backpay
Yeba! I shall say.

Provincial rate

2011-09-06T12:11:00.000-07:00

(Click on the image for larger viewing. These figures are not accurate. These are just assumptions, symbolic, sarcasm, or however a reader may call it.)

Working in a call center or BPO (business process outsourcing) company, comparing basic pay from previous companies is not uncommon. It was the first training day for an American account, a Fortune company. Basically, each of the new employee types his details virtually for ATM payroll, company badge, etc. So we had time to discuss anything, especially basic pay, benefits, incentives and mostly matters related to money.

One guy left a company after a year, with zero back pay. That's from a 3-letter named company that used to be manufacturing computers but has been an outsourcing company as well. Another guy left a company after receiving the contract signing bonus in a month from date of hire. Some of them left their previous companies after unresolved salary disputes. They call it salary dispute when you don't get the pay based on the time you have worked. I have learned a lot of corporate terms in Manila. What is really new to me is the term 'jumper.' One is a jumper when he works from one BPO to another. I don't really know the criteria of becoming a jumper. Maybe it's having more than one BPO employment in a year.

The company I am working with right now has training bond or cash bond for 6 months. That is, you will have to pay a certain cash when you quit before reaching 6 months of residency in the company. This is however fair for the companies. They spend money for the training expenses like salary for the trainer, electricity, handouts, trainees' salary, etc. It's also one way of dealing with spoiled Manila agents who keep on quitting work prematurely. I was once a nurse recruiter and it's a trouble when manpower suddenly changes due to staff immediate resignation or AWOL (absence without leave).

Another fact that I learned today, which is sadly true and is happening, is the difference of salary between agents in Manila and provinces. In Davao City, an agent earns a monthly rate of PhP 9,500 to 12,500 compared to a PhP 14,000 or more in Manila. These figures are not accurate but the trend is.

Manila, Davao, or Cagayan de Oro. If these cities are working for XYZ American company, they receive calls from the same country. They handle the same irate callers. They get the same surveys: bad customer surveys that may cost them their jobs. Same job roles and descriptions: talk while documenting, talk even though the person on the other line curses you, apologize, apologize and apologize (even though the customer warned you not to apologize again [but you have to verbalize it as per protocol]). Same protocols. Not the same compensation. A company saves a lot if established in the provinces. Cheaper space rental, cheaper utilities (water, electricity), cheaper taxes, and cheaper salaries to provincial fellows.

If XYZ American company pays QRS BPO $2 per minute of call received, the former pays the same amount to any BPO, irrespective of its geographical location.

Call center agents must be paid equally all over the Philippines. Same salary range for agents on the same graveyard shifts.

Living a life the heart wants

2011-08-24T11:36:00.000-07:00

It's August 25, 2011, 1:30 a.m. Manila time. I have been awake for more than 48 hours. The usual problem.

After savoring the water spinach for dinner with my housemates Anne and Ralph, I took my laptop inside Anne's bedroom since it's closer to the internet router. I needed faster speed to view Lourd De Veyra's humorous, intellectual videos. Anne's closet was open.

I saw neon colored post-it notes attached to a cloth hanger. I asked her about the notes but she quickly replied not to dare look at them. Seconds later, she placed the notes on the laptop's keyboard. There are list of plans. Short and long term goals like purchasing appliances, vacation, loving her self more and etc. Setting of goals shared by her work's team leader.

My big, long term goals are:
1. a black or white stallion
2. glass house in a hill, specifically in Kapatagan, Digos City
3. sweet, bell pepper farm in the front yard
4. coffee and cacao farm in both side of the glass house
5. woods behind the glass house

(I'd love to farm. Pick up tomatoes and gather chicken eggs in the coop for breakfast.)

I've been a working class. A Philippine-based working class. It is a bit hard to build a glass house or buy a stallion from the meager earnings in a corporate world. Aside from the monthly salary, additional source of income should come along to realize plans. While talking about living, life and reaching dreams, Coconuter came to my mind. I checked his site and it surprised me he's been back in Manila for quite some time. The modern nomad, his name is David Poarch, who gave up his comfortable life in the States years ago and attempted to survive from what the laid back life in the rural community could provide. This man inspired me when I first heard of him. He helped define the unclear thoughts occasionally running in my mind. Ambiguous ideas giving you migraines after trying hard understanding them.

All I want, someday, is to see greenery. The river, waterfalls, flowers and mountains. Get up early in the morning. Feel the cool breeze hit my skin. Walk barefoot toward the front yard, pick up fresh eggplants, gather chicken eggs from the coop, and prepare breakfast while sipping brewed coffee.

I'm tired of party, Manila's pollution, and corporate life.

Angels

2011-08-22T04:14:00.000-07:00

I have been hooked listening to my old trip-hop music files such as Portishead, Telepopmusik, Tricky, Unkle and Massive Attack. Unkle's Rabbit In Your Headlight music video is one amazing video. I feel entranced when the man took of his shirt at the end of the video after a few cars hit and honk on him. He spread his arm like a crucifixion and the last car did not stop. The car blew out from the impact.

Tricky's songs make me want to keep on smoking
Telepopmusik makes me fly
Portishead fills my mouth with vodka endlessly
Massive Attack pushes me to the top of the train (like the kids in "Slumdog Millionaire"

Weather has been really cool lately in Manila. As cool as the trip-hop. Walking in the night from the mall to my house, I'd see the smoke from the cigarette in my dry lips running towards the sky. Looking up, the world is dark. I miss the stars.

I miss PJ Harvey. Stop knocking on my door my dear landlady, I'll pay you tomorrow. I am not running.

Procrastinate

2011-07-28T18:04:00.000-07:00

I have been avoiding to turn this blog into a "negative journal" but it's hard to stop myself from writing especially that I'm in the hardest point of my life.

Been losing the zest. Intentionally searching for a tangible purpose of living. What do I live for? Who do I live for? Why do I have to survive and live until tomorrow.

Work.

Sleep.

Eat.

Should I have known about Club 27, I could have joined them. But I'm not doing it. I don't want to be a loser. I want to inspire myself and someday inspire people. If I'd do it, it is not going to be celebrated since it is a taboo in my location. People would see it as a jinx. My sister is right. I have the education, the guts, the talents, etc.

Peer is significant. Vying to see or hear from somebody who thinks or acts the way I do. I'm in a new company but everyone thinks about money, about earning. No pleasure. The pleasure of living. The beautiful things, vintage building, lovely music.

Hunger for money is overwhelming in Manila.

Thunderbird versus Outlook

2011-07-26T18:36:00.000-07:00

I'm using dongle.

Wireless connection.

It took less than a mere 5-minute to install Mozilla Thunderbird version 5. I added 3 various email accounts; Gmail, Yahoo and Hotmail. Thunderbird automatically detects correct email settings for each mail's server/s. So amazing. I stopped using Outlook, or should I say I can not continue using Outlook because Microsoft demands serial number after restoring my laptop to factory settings. Five hundred emails appeared in Thunderbird within 5 to 10 minutes. Weeks ago, Outlook gathered all the emails from the servers-around 400 emails-for 3 hours. Using the same dongle.

I no longer use Microsoft Office and now learning Java's Open Office.

Mozilla remains faithful to its principle, that Internet should be free and easy. I'm still in awe with Thunderbird. I have worked with many customers having endless issues with Outlook. Thunderbird's logo looks trustworthy, and so is its performance.

Back to virtual world

2011-07-16T07:54:00.000-07:00

I'm back to virtual world.

After half a year of inaccessibility to a personal computer, an HP is at hand. It's from my sister. HP Pavilion dv2000. Pre-loved. Sister had it turned on overnight. The moment she opened her eyes, the monitor went dim. Restarted, still as black as its cover. Eager to have the laptop, I requested to have it sent to me and leave the worry on me in fixing it.

Basically, as usual customer would do, I went to Hewlett-Packard repair center. The polite lady took the serial number of the laptop, excused herself and showed up with a printout handed to me. Nice piece of shit, I mean piece of paper. It's a system generated narrative of the laptop's serial number, date manufactured, some difficult codes, and the last but not the least, the word-obsolete.

The 2006 model HP laptop is no longer supported by HP repair center.

They no longer do any probing or checking if it needs a mere replacement of LCD, faulty wiring or a simple hard reset. The lady was nice. She must have seen how frustrated I was. She helped me slide the laptop back into my Agnes B bag. The only help I got. Non-technical support from HP.

I left the laptop to the care of CompuServe repair shop in the mall. The girl with annoying dental, steel braces said I will be receiving a feedback should they need to replace any parts of the hardware. Initially paid the diagnostic fee which is a bit expensive. They didn't fix it. Had the monitor on. No fixing fee required. The girl with steel braces suggested I use a laptop cooler. It took them 15 days to do it. She advised I can do checking of emails, surfing and avoid using it for more than 2 hours. The video card was said to be overheating when movies are played.

After less than 24 hours of using it, the screen goes black again. I flashed a light on the screen, I could see my works in it. I searched for solutions through Google. I learned about removing the LED or replacing its inverter. Desperate to resolve the issue myself, I studied the "how-to's" via Youtube. But I was scared I might not be able to fix it.

I restored it to factory default settings. Resetting took almost an hour whilst I was praying.

Fixed.

Been using it for a month.

Depression test

2011-07-11T08:43:00.000-07:00

Took the test seriously at www.depressedtest.com. The result below surprised me.

Bacteria and virus

2011-05-06T18:37:00.001-07:00

Been sick for three days. Swollen tonsils causing pain to the scale of 10 like I want to throw all the cats invading my bedroom. Bedroom door has been open for days, mosquitoes and cats enjoy the opportunity. It is more than 30 degrees celsius pure summer. Closing the windows or door would turn my non air conditioned room to a conventional oven for Juan's pandesal. Rolling in bed like snake. Head feels very heavy. Getting up when there's a need to take a leak and when hunger makes me disoriented. It is difficult to swallow the 625 milligram Augmentin that I puked yesterday when I forced to swallow it. Looking at the mixture of water and saliva on the floor, I found the Augmentin tablet. Desperate to get well, I picked it up and swallowed it, making a fist that's about to break my bedroom's wall while the pain goes to my brain like Thor's hammer is breaking my skull.

And herpes zoster appear in lower lip that looks like red cottons. Perfect. Who's next in line? Appear now please. Come one, come all. It looks harmless but once you have it, it feels like it is pulling all the muscles in the areas affected. So when you move your lips from talking or eating, it is heavenly painful. I push myself an inch near the mirror, herpes looks like balloons filled with water. This is viral. And I get this every year, especially during summer.

Since I am a corporate slave, I have to work tonight. Or tomorrow morning at 3:00 am. When I speak, one would wonder if I have a marble in the corner of my mouth. It is extremely painful. But I will work. After all the torture. I will work. Mind over matter. These are just bacteria and viruses ruining my body. I must have control over them.

Digos City

2011-02-28T23:08:00.000-08:00

(Took this pic from Grandma's garden. There was rain before sunset. )

I miss my hometown.

Cook pork
bake cupcakes
brew coffee
sit in the garden
nod and smile to each person passing by the yellow house.

Ride a motorcycle
wearing short pants
slippers
no helmet
sleeveless shirt.

The shirtless man, fronting the gloomy Catholic church,
chops the upper portion of coconut
poke the cheap straw through the meat
sip the refreshing juice
Mama says it's good for the kidneys.

Light the cigarette
start the motorcycle
smoking
driving
feels like I'm the town's bad boy.

Speed up to 140 km/hr
avoid the superhighway
pass through the shortcut
along mahogany trees
too green they look like plastic.

Stopping in the abandoned pier
sit in plastic chair
strong wind pushing me
"Beer!"
I yell to the mulatto girl.

Drive back home
speed up like the road is mine
realizing I'm flat on the road
I'm off from the motorcycle
right knee is bleeding.

People in awe
jaws drop
I smile
drive like I feel no pain
I smile again.

Few meters
away from the witnesses
I check my knee
blood is oozing
like a jail-breaker.

Back in the yellow house
Rush!
unlocking the gate's padlock
before Noah-the smelly dog-
could lick my hands.

Shower
moisturize my face
pull over me
the Ralph Lauren blanket,
I'm home.

American furious why Filipinos (and Indians) use American names

2011-01-21T20:44:00.000-08:00

Been working as a call center agent since September of last year. Call center agent, customer service representative, technical support representative. The latter best describes my job. I fix technical issues of customers from the United States with weird, intermittent internet connection which is so unlikely with the DSL I have here in the Philippines.

Two weeks ago, an American customer crushed my ego. I received his call with my smile stretched from ear to ear, ensuring I convey the smile through my voice. I could see my own teeth and gum from the big smile.

The conversation---

Me: Thank you for calling %$#$^%*%&%*. My name is PATRICK. Can I have the telephone *&^&^##%^&*())*)_*&&?

I smiled. Desperate to make my voice clear since some customers do not understand neutral English.

Mister America: What's your name again?!

He was barking like a moronic dog. My left ear ringing like bundled needles were pushed into my eardrum.

Me: My name is Patrick sir.

The smile on my face did not disappear. I have been insensitive towards rude callers.

Mister America: Your name is Patrick?! Why? Your father is Patrick senior? And you are Patrick junior?!

His voice was loud that I felt his huge, dry wrinkled lips touched the pinna of my left ear.

Me: Oh yes sir, my first name is really Patrick.

The smile-as-per-protocol still pulled my lips towards my ears.

Mister America: You people from Philippines, you are using fake American names. People from India have fake American names like Bob, Tom, Hank, Harry! Stop using fake names. I have Filipino friends but they don't have names like Patrick! They don't use fake American names, they don't have fake accent!

I felt his black hairy tongue licking my eardrum.

Me: Oh, I apologize for that sir but I am not using a fake American name. My name is legally Patrick.

I placed strings on both corners of my mouth to maintain the smile.

Mister America: I want to speak to an American agent! I want to speak with someone who's in the United States!

I heard his teeth grinding my ear.

Me: Oh yes sir, please stay on the line. I will now be transferring you on an American agent.

Mister America hung up the phone. I called back the customer's telephone number.

Mister America's voice mail prompt: Your number has been blocked. If you have an access code, please key in the numbers #$%^&*+_@#$$.

Probably Mister America is 90 years old and so are his friends. Filipinos 90 years ago may have names like Protacio, Federico, Crispin, other Spanish names and the likes. My mother is almost 70 and her name is Myrna. It's definitely arduous for Westerners to say names like Maria Clara, Lucrecia, Pachaimuthu, and Dakshesh.

The call perfectly defined what discrimination is. It is very demeaning that I saw my self-esteem let loose from me. But I picked it up. I always feel pity to dogmatic, arrogant people. They are the futile species who have not yet seen the beauty in this world beyond troubling oneself in Asians using or having American sounding names.

Life is beautiful honey. The world is big. Life is fun. Life is wonderful when you speak with people around the world. Explore the world Mister America.

Philippine's MONDAY magazine

2010-12-16T05:52:00.001-08:00

Call it MONDAY. The best and worth-my-money Philippine magazine. It's like having 5-course menu in a cozy restaurant. I'm giving two thumbs up for this earth-friendly magazine because it
1) uses recycled paper (if I'm not mistaken [I feel bad every time I flip on glossy magazine,
2) talks about OPTIMISM,
3) arrays high-end topics, stuffs and people (from vases, chairs, to A380 Airbus),
4) aggressively talks about having just one's mere corporate salary Vs. dining in Li Li Vs. buying Prada Vs. easily brushing off a fashionista lady commuting by a pedicab Vs. a gay logo-addict who's inis (irked) to the latter,
5) and, is so contemporary but sensitive of the history.

Monday is indeed exuding an optimism towards me. It fires up my desire in arts, business, travel and all the beautiful things I'd wanted to do with my former lover. I'm gonna start put things into realization by myself or with someone should one goes along. The world is big. Oh honey life is beautiful.

Fat girl in the pantry

2010-11-02T22:38:00.001-07:00

A fat girl laughs. It's for me. I'm sure. I turn my head to see where it comes from. I see her and look into her eyes. She puts her fat hand flat on her fat lips while giggling. Her huge fat shoulder shaking.

I'm in a school boy outfit. I may have seemed cool or funny for her. She's with her fat friends who chuckle at her laughter.

Should I also laugh, because they're fat?

A fat girl pushing a fat ego to her fat self. Trying to 'fat-ly' maximize her thin self-esteem.

I'm chewing pork fats. The fat girl leaves the pantry. A part of her just-for-fat-shirt is tuck between the skin folds of her belly. I follow her through my gaze. Good thing she's fat. A fat bitch. So unlikely with my good fat friends.

3:05 a.m.
October 31st 2010

2010-11-02T22:32:00.001-07:00

Farewell my dear Puta

2010-10-26T02:51:00.001-07:00

It's a brave thing living alone.

And saddening. I just came from a 5-year-6-months relationship. Which I firmly believed was the one I'd have before I die.

I came here in Manila with my (putang inang Puta) lover with chuckles on the thought of living together like real couples under the same roof. All I wanted to do is go to the market in weekends with Puta. Cook decent meal for us. Party all Saturdays. Get sissy with strangers but have Puta alone around my arms in Sundays. But the Puta fell for someone. I remained on Puta's side. I convinced myself Puta was into a puppy love affair with this Boba (a putang ina puta too). It turned out I was wrong. I became invisible. Puta and Boba started having arguments. Like they were couples. They went through security issues like how I and Puta used to go through. I was not just invisible then. I outran my skin, flew like a deep pure wind.

I live alone now. Puta and Boba live together in the same condo where Puta and I used to live together. Boba has his clothes in my closet where I used to keep mine. I am writing this story in my BlackBerry. I used to type in Puta's netbook. I eat alone. I sleep alone. It's a humbling experience living (unusually) alone. I still cry. Not that I want Puta back. I thought I could start a family with Puta.

The number two

2010-08-11T10:11:00.001-07:00

(Image source: http://img42.imageshack.us/img42/2460/eastwoodcity3336philipp.jpg

I now live in Eastwood City. A private community-ala replica of a luxurious metropolitan-where everything is splendidly put to make one feels like a VIP.

I have been here for two weeks. I got a job offer after two weeks. Everything happened in "two" lately.

I flew here with two tickets. The first ticket that I purchased online through my sister's credit card was denied due to my inability to present the Philippine Airline's requirements: photocopy of the credit card used and photocopy of my sister's valid ID. My sister lives in Florida. The card is in Florida. Her IDs are in Florida. Desperate to fly in the same plane with my partner, I was in dilemma between purchasing a same flight ticket of about six thousand pesos or a cheaper one on a different flight. I took the latter. Two different flights.

We finished two bottles of alcohol (Mojitos and Bacardi) in two weeks. Watched two movies in Eastwood Mall. Applied for a job in two companies and two headhunters. Celebrated twice for the job with an expensive frozen yogurt and costly cinnamon breads in the following day. Partied two times. The two of us got sick. I am now taking two antibiotics a day.

I live in tower two of a 3-tower condominium. Now looking at my Givenchy watch, it is two in the morning, Philippine time. Thanks God for the number 2.

Things to wear when riding a bike

2010-06-30T22:56:00.000-07:00

Struggling smoker

2010-03-13T02:31:00.000-08:00

I am a struggling smoker. I smoke one pack a day. The recently introduced Marlboro Black is making my habit worse, leaving me burning one and a half pack a day.

Been a lazy unrealistic dreamer lately. I draw and design. It pulls me away from the harsh reality of life- and I am loving it. Addicted to it.

Colors fill my soul, they twist my mind and I am loving it.

Like crayons thrown from the bridge, they may be beautiful but not to where they may land.

I do not understand what I am writing.

This is chaos.

Passionate designing

2010-02-24T09:40:00.000-08:00

Thanks God there is Crowdspring. The restless stuff in my minds are now gradually released beautifully. Been hooked in designing over various designing projects. And I so love it. It makes me feel so alive, and so satisfied. God, how I love to design.

I used to draw everywhere since I was young. Typography became my regular hobby, that I had to repeat all my notes oftentimes in a week; turned the notes from italic, to long-hand, short-hand and then all-caps. At the end of the school year, my notebooks remained neat but the number of sheets have decreased like three folds.

The worst Catholic wedding (by the Devilish Priest)

2009-11-27T23:16:00.000-08:00

I used to be a Catholic, but the priests' hypocrisy and unrelenting preachings put me aloof in the church. I am still a Christian, despite points in time when I became Atheist then an Agnostic.

On November 21, 2009, the fine rain poured over the wedding bouquet of roses I arranged myself. Looking at the drops of rain, a desire arose the wedding mass wouldn't take minutes as much as the drops. I arrived 6:15 a.m. at San Isidro Labrador Parish Church, Digos City. I knew the wedding starts at 6 a.m. sharp. I ran towards the bride and groom on the kneeling bench. Something bothered me. It was the austere priest officiating the wedding—it was his dark aura. I handed the bouquet to the bride, pinned the corsage to the groom, and took picture. Did all these whilst the priest read from a book in his hands, I was not listening then.

Coming up with better photo shoots of the couple, I sat on the pews and a friend told me how the poor couple got bad lucks. In November 20, the couple had rehearsal for this mass wedding and was told to appear in the church at exactly 5:30 a.m. Mass wedding means you pay cheaper than a special wedding-it's like a wedding for the lower class and the middle class, respectively. Fortunately, no other couple have registered for the day. It seemed like a special wedding then.

The mass started at exactly 6, without the couple. The couple arrived at 6:05 a.m. The cruel nun brutally told them she would have the wedding cancelled. The priest stopped when he saw them, the nun motioned them to walk in the aisle. Anxiously, the couple galloped along the aisle. The bride didn't have chance to spread the bottom of her gown.

Having been agitated, the groom failed to remember when to say 'yes Father' and 'I do'. "Tubaga na ko ug Oo Father, dugaya nimo mutubag oi." The priest mumbled. (Say yes now, what's taking you so long)

Three fine lines were now visible over his eyebrows. His aura had turned to devilishly black. In one of his really unforgettable and historical preachings, he remarked to couple's being late, "May pa ang patay, naka make up daan, ang kaslunon maligo pa, mag make up pa." (Perhaps a made up dead man is better than a newly wed who is yet to wash and put make up on) Not a good joke for a wedding. The priest never smile. After the mass, he never appeared again. No felicitation from the "officiating Catholic priest." I still waited for the priest, hoping he's kind enough to shake hands with the newly weds. The atmosphere went awkward, people stared blankly and endlessly. So I told the groom to kiss the bride.

I got really disappointed (again) with his attitude. I remember P. Coelho's The Devil and Miss Prym. He wrote that everyone is either good or bad, it's just a matter of choosing between doing good or bad. In this wedding, the priest chose to be bad, and did bad things—this made him a Devilish Priest. Everyone turned into a devil that day though. The nun, the guests, every one. After the mass, the people despised the priest, shared hateful statements towards him. The evil dispersed as quick as a fire. Everyone became devils.

Including me. But the priest started it.

I started to write and never stop

2009-11-12T08:11:00.000-08:00

I started to write something about the extremely, awfully smelly toilet in Davao City's Bus terminal but I got lost. I suddenly didn't know how to end it after putting on four paragraphs. A bit confused, if the story's stupid, or not interesting, or too negative. I'm too hesitant in posting negative stories. I just realized that my previous posts were mostly negative. I'm gonna shift to the other side a bit, intermittently. Life has been so like Garfield's lately. Procrastination becomes a habit which I have to deal with urgently. Got excited when I signed up for Postcrossing but someone took it negatively so I removed my account. I joined it because I saw the members received postcards from anybody randomly, and with postage stamps (OMG!). I perfectly love snail mail, the smell of the envelope, the seal, and the stamps. I used to be a philatelist.

The world is beautiful indeed. With or without postcards.

Moby - Why Does My Heart Feel So Bad?

2009-10-24T03:41:00.000-07:00