Idle Chit-Chat
anything and everything

Archive for the 'Think it through' Category


Tuesday, March 25th, 2008

I can be a very, very paranoid person and out of sheer interest, I decided to look up the scientific names of my fears:

Iatrophobia - Fear of going to the doctor or of doctors.

Acrophobia - Fear of heights.

Arachnephobia or Arachnophobia- Fear of spiders.

Ophidiophobia - Fear of snakes. (Snakephobia)

The following phobias are just funny:

Hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia - Fear of the number 666.

it’s scary, I know, but the name is just retarded. 

Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia - Fear of long words.

probably the reason why they’re afraid of long words in the first place.

Lachanophobia - Fear of vegetables.

But but… vegetables are fuuuuunnnn!

Melophobia - Fear or hatred of music.

this is seriously idiotic… fear of souljah boy or of any crappy rap music is a legit fear.

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Keep on plugging along, boy.

Monday, March 17th, 2008

We held hands on the last night on earth. Our mouths filled with dust, we kissed in the fields and under trees, screaming like dogs, bleeding dark into the leaves. It was empty on the edge of town but we knew everyone floated along the bottom of the river. So we walked through the waste where the road curved into the sea and the shattered seasons lay, and the bitter smell of burning was on you like a disease. In our cancer of passion you said, "Death is a midnight runner." The sky had come crashing down like the news of an intimate suicide. We picked up the shards and formed them into shapes of stars that wore like an antique wedding dress. The echoes of the past broke the hearts of the unborn as the ferris wheel silently slowed to a stop. The few insects skittered away in hopes of a better pastime. I kissed you at the apex of the maelstrom and asked if you would accompany me in a quick fall, but you made me realize that my ticket wasn’t good for two. I rode alone. You said, "The cinders are falling like snow." There is poetry in despair, and we sang with unrivaled beauty, bitter elegies of savagery and eloquence. Of blue and gray. Strange, we ran down desperate streets and carved our names in the flesh of the city. The sun has stagnated somewhere beyond the rim of the horizon and the darkness is a mystery of curves and lines. Still, we lay under the emptiness and drifted slowly outward, and somewhere in the wilderness we found salvation scratched into the earth like a message.

Man, wish I could write like that.

Lately, my writing… hmmm… capabilities have been stifled either by boredom or just the lack of ammunition in my armory. Hurray for metaphors.

I remember what my professor in comics class told me: "Your brain is like a scanner: it churns out anything you put in it. So, if you want to be a competent writer, you have to READ A LOOTTT!" Well, it’s not really word-for-word. He said it in a more glorious manner in which angels descended from heaven while sustaining a high note.

Hmmm… do you recommend any good books for me to sink my mental teeth into?

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Men & Women

Monday, February 18th, 2008


Men flip around the television more than women, I think. Men get that remote control in their hands, they don’t even know what the he they’re watching. You know, we just keep going.

"Rerun, don’t wanna watch it.. "

"What are you watching?"

"I don’t care, I gotta keep going."

"Who was that?"

"I don’t know what it was - doesn’t matter, it’s not your fault. It doesn’t matter, I gotta keep going."

Women don’t do this. See now, women will stop and go,

"Well, let me see what the show is before I change the channel."

You see? Men just fly. That’s why we watch TV differently. Before there was flipping around, before there was television, kings and emperors and pharaohs and such had story-tellers that would tell them stories ’cause that was their entertainment. I always wonder, in that era, if they would get, like, thirty story-tellers together so they could still flip around. Just go,

"Alright start telling me a story, what’s happening? I don’t want to hear anymore. Shut up. Go to the next guy. What are you talking about? Is there a girl in that story? ..No? Shut up. Go to the next guy. What do you got? I don’t want to hear that either. Shut up. No, go ahead, what are you talking about?.. I don’t want to hear that. No, the all of you, get out of here. I’m going to bed."

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Looking Back

Tuesday, February 12th, 2008

Was rummaging through my stack of papers from college and found something WORTH reading: a paper for my Theology class, June 27, 2006.

At age 20, you’ve supposedly just squeaked by the awkward stage of adolescence, where you search long and hard for that identity you never seemed to have. You’ve graduated grade school and high school, where you learn about Science, Math, Civics and Culture, and of course, Christian Living. You now know what “peer pressure” is, not because of your D.A.R.E. classes, but from actual experience. You’ve tried to love and probably lost it, and in turn, you keep trying to get Love figured out (the sad thing is, I think I’ll never know true love… but that’s another story). You’ve questioned what or who God is several times over and of course, the inevitable search for the meaning of life. Heck, you’ve probably lost your faith in the process. I have.

I’ve done all of this of course. All my years growing up have taught me all sorts of lessons. My perception of what’s right and wrong has modified itself too many times over. I’ve learned that there are so many incidents in life where circumstance dictates what’s right and wrong. Many situations are relative, and the line between right and wrong grows thinner by the day. Before you know it, you don’t even know where the line is. Even my perception of God is cloudy. To me, God is that Supreme Being, the Universal Spirit that is the sole purpose for everything that occurs. He comes in several names: Christ, Buddha, Brahma, etc. I think what all beliefs have in common is Love. God is LOVE.

I’d like to think I am spiritual, but I am not so religious. I am not a very devout Catholic. Honestly, I hardly pray at night. The only religious thing I am still doing is living a good life. I hardly attend confession and I haven’t opened the Bible in a very long time. I also do not believe that one will go to hell if he does not believe in Jesus Christ, because I believe in the natural goodness of people. I believe that a person can still be a good person even if he does not attend mass on Sundays, or if he doesn’t open the Bible. I’ve learned that there are 3 relationships you juggle in life: one with God, with others, and yourself. I’ve been focusing more on the latter two; I have yet to find a solid relationship with God.

Although my relationship with God is quite vague, I do have my personal convictions, and these beliefs are what I have stood for, and what guides my decisions.

  • I believe in TRUTH and HONESTY above all others. I try my best to avoid lying. I believe that the need to lie simply means there is something wrong with your relationship with that person. I try not to give myself any reason to lie to people. Goodness is Truthful, because we are naturally inclined toward the good. Everything follows from there.
  • I believe in doing things that make me GROW as a person. I believe in developing talents and skills, and making the most out of every situation.
  • I believe that it is good to stand back and reflect about things, to not always be swayed by the flowing river of modern living.
  • It is absolutely necessary to respect every person, no matter how incredibly annoying, or vile he/she is. The key word is TRY.
  • I have no right to complain about my life, for I try to keep in mind that there are millions of people who have it a lot worse.

Oh, I’ve changed… however my convictions are still standing strong. My faith, on the other hand,  has been reinvigorated. I don’t feel invincible anymore… which is good.

Ante up.

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In The Year 2000

Thursday, February 7th, 2008

When are they going to have the flying cars? They have been promising that for a while, right? It’s taken years… Years! When I was a kid, they made it seem like it was right around the corner. I think Stephen Hawking or Batman has one… or maybe they’re just electric cars. It’d make sense if Batman fought for the environment too. For sure, Captain Planet has an electric car. What about Harrison Ford? He had one in Blade Runner! That was a cool one car. However, the only car I could compare it to was… Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang. Meh.

Well, what do you think the big holdup is? I think the government is very touchy about us being in the air. They’ll let us run around on the ground as much as we want… Anything in the air is a big production. Ick.

And what about the floating cities?

And where are the underwater bubble cities?

It’s like we’re living in the ’50s here. The future is NOW!

Of Beauty

Friday, February 1st, 2008

Then God, with his fingers, carved
a hole through my dream’s ceiling,
took a handful,
and fashioned them in the form of woman,
set her before my eyes
a million and two miles away.
In this strange little small world of ours, everyone
is within reach,
but never attainable.
In my dreams the stones
can climb the trees and kiss its fruit;
but here they wait
for the branches to let go of them,
when they’re ready to rot.

This is a poem written by a friend of mine. It’s amazing that things that we have ever so wanted cannot be reached in the real world. The only thing most people have are dreams.

Which is sad.

A soul that sees beauty may sometimes walk alone.
-Johann von Goeth

P.S. You MAY have noticed that I have been putting poetry in my blogposts. Don’t like it? Don’t read it! hahahah

Poety is <3

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Did curiosity kill the cat?

Thursday, January 31st, 2008


By Alastair Reid

may have killed the cat; more likely
the cat was just unlucky, or else curious
to see what death was like, having no cause
to go on licking paws, or fathering
litter on litter of kittens, predictably.

Nevertheless, to be curious
is dangerous enough. To distrust
what is always said, what seems
to ask odd questions, interfere in dreams,
leave home, smell rats, have hunches
do not endear cats to those doggy circles
where well-smelt baskets, suitable wives, good lunches
are the order of things, and where prevails
much wagging of incurious heads and tails.

Face it. Curiosity
will not cause us to die–
only lack of it will.
Never to want to see
the other side of the hill
or that improbable country
where living is an idyll
(although a probable hell)
would kill us all.

Only the curious have, if they live, a tale
worth telling at all.

Dogs say cats love too much, are irresponsible,
are changeable, marry too many wives,
desert their children, chill all dinner tables
with tales of their nine lives.
Well, they are lucky. Let them be
nine-lived and contradictory,
curious enough to change, prepared to pay
the cat price, which is to die
and die again and again,
each time with no less pain.
A cat minority of one
is all that can be counted on
to tell the truth. And what cats have to tell
on each return from hell
is this: that dying is what the living do,
that dying is what the loving do,
and that dead dogs are those who do not know
that dying is what, to live, each has to do.

Hmmm I never really was a cat person but if that’s what it means to be a “cat”, well, slap me some cat ears and get ready for my best meow because I AM ONE!



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Monday, January 28th, 2008

I miss school.

I may be forever branded as a dork for saying so… but yes, I MISS SCHOOL.

The projects, the deadlines, the crappy food, the awesome teachers, cutting class, free cuts, the borrowing of pens, photocopying ungodly amounts of notes, not listening, sleeping in the library, smoking in between classes (ALTHOUGH I’VE QUIT IT. Clean Slate for ‘08! Been smoke free since dec. 31. THANKYOU. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE), sleeping during philosophy, being sent out during theology, ACCOUNTING AND FINANCE, creative writing, comics class…

I COULD list a whole lot more of things I miss about school but I think this site’s bandwith couldn’t handle it. I was browsing through my old blog a little while back and I came upon this. I wrote this little compelling piece of literature after I graduated college:

I was walking around katipunan earlier this evening. I didn’t know where to go. no one was replying to my incessant pleadings to kick back and have a beer. you know who you are. and once again, the mind tends to drift and wander and reflect and question. I’ve been studying (ergo, almost all of those my age) for around, give or take 19 years, (I started school when i was 2 and a half years old), and now, I’ve been yanked from the role I fill out as *insert name here* that I’ve been portraying for the past 21 years. Now, I don’t wake up to the routine anymore. the routine I’ve always ranted about, the routine I’ve always yearned to break away from. ironically (with a kind of masterful twist), I’m searching for that monotony. I search for it’s predictability and stability. You wake up, yosi, breakfast, yosi, bath, yosi, go to school, yosi, study, flirt, laugh, yosi, beer, blueskies, home, simpsons, aquateen hunger force, seinfeld, sleep. It’s simple. Throw in an occasional project or two and it’s fine. I find myself longing for the safety of routine. I never thought I’d worry about where I should apply for. Ever since I was kid, all I wanted to do was write and play videogames. Oh and advertising and marketing, that’s it. I miss the promise and safety of routine.

Man, did I make a point there! Thing is, as human beings, we are afraid of the unknown, the uncharted. Our nagging fear of not venturing out into distant lands urges us to stay where we are. To be content with and be happy with it.

To compromise.

Who knew I’d end up where I am right now… I’ve become the Bizarro version of my college self; that same version of me that thought of himself as indestructible, immovable and superior.


‘08 has become a pleasant surprise for me. I’ve changed, I’ve sacrificed and now, I’m doing things I never thought I’d be doing again. Details don’t matter. The point is, and bearing a quite striking irony, PRESENT ME is much, much better than OLD ME. If PRESENT ME and OLD ME met in a dank bar somewhere, OM would laugh at the face of PM. Mock him, insult him and basically say how much of a spineless worm he is. PM me, on the other hand, would just flash a very heart-melting smile (I RARELY smiled before) and just say…


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The Pen IS Mighty Yay!

Monday, January 21st, 2008

We take a lot of things for granted… a pen, is an example. Who would care if one lost a pen? Heck, the world is OVERFLOWING with pens. But think about this: what would happen if we didn’t have pens? Societies would collapse, documents would go unsigned, autographs will be non-existent and so will peashooters be.


I encountered this write-up for a Bic ballpen in Amazon, but I’m assuming most of you are lazy to click the link, I posted it here. Yay!

Since taking delivery of my pen I have been very happy with the quality of ink deposition on the various types of paper that I have used. On the first day when I excitedly unwrapped my pen (thanks for the high quality packaging Amazon!) I just couldn’t contain my excitement and went around finding things to write on, like the shopping list on the notice board in our kitchen, the Post-it notes next to the phone, and on my favourite lined A4 pad at the side of my desk.
My pen is the transparent type with a blue lid. I selected this one in preference to the orange type because I like to be able to see how much ink I have left so that I can put in another order before I finally run out.
When the initial excitement of taking delivery of my new pen started to wear off I realised that I shouldn’t just write for the fun of it, this should be a serious enterprise, so by the second day of ownership I started to take a little more care of what I wrote. I used it to sign three letters, and in each case was perfectly happy with the neatness of handwriting that I was able to achieve.
I have a helpful tip for you that you might not know about - if you let the ink dry for a few seconds you can avoid the smudging that sometimes happens if you rub the ink immediately after writing. Fortunately the ink used in this particular Bic pen seems to dry very quickly.
On the third day of ownership I went on a trip to London and took my pen carefully packed away in my brief case, but I needn’t have worried, this isn’t some temperamental ink pen that leaks when you store it at the wrong angle. I sat at my meeting and confidently removed the cap from my pen and it wrote flawlessly, almost immediately.
I notice that the barrel of the pen has been crafted very carefully to fit in the pen holder down the edge of my Filofax. It’s not so grippy so that it is hard to remove when I want to make a quick note, and yet not so loose that it falls out too easily when I open my Filofax in a hurry. Maybe the choice of surface texture on the pen has some part to play here, because it seems that the inside of the leather grip on the pen holder in my Filofax has just the right level of adhesion that I can be confident when I need to reach in and get my pen it’s going to be just where I left it!
Today is the fourth day of ownership of my pen, and I have to say I’m starting to treat it like an old friend. I walk around the office with it clipped in to my shirt pocket and someone in the accounts department actually asked to borrow it while we were both standing at the photocopier. Would you believe it, they actually tried to walk away with my pen! They were very embarrassed when I called after them as they walked down the corridor and asked for it back. You will be happy to know that it is now back, safe and sound in my top pocket, ready and waiting to start writing again.
In summary, I would happily recommend this pen to anyone who is planning on writing on paper. If you are considering a writing implement for some other surface such as writing on a CD, or other non-porous substances then another pen might be better suited, but if it’s just plain old paper then I think you will probably be well served by this particular model.


Here’s what other people thought of the write-up:

What an excellent pen that must be, I’m not surprised that they are the worlds most popular. I am now considering purchasing some to give as Christmas presents to my closest friends. Although I am a little concerned about the possibility of my friends be robbed for the pens, it sounds like it could be quite a common occurrence and with the prevalence of knife crime in England as it is the number of friends I have could drop quite rapidly after Christmas.

What an excellent review, but I fear you have been blinded by this pens brilliance. There is a far superior pen on the market for a fraction of the price. The “Bic Four Colour” pen offers the superb craftsmanship that we would expect from Bic but with four colours. An Amazon review sums it all up - “Choice of blue, black, red and green ink. Ideal when information needs to be recorded in different colours”.

A little known alternative use for this pen is to remove the plastic end stopper and ink barrel and use it in classroom as a peashooter, blimey the fun we had

‘m afflicted with left-handedness; do you think it would be suitable for me to use, despite my disability?
Presumably there is some kind of ‘family friendly’ feature that prevents the pen from being used to write swear-words and rude doodles?

I live in the US. Will this pen work on our 8 1/2″ x 11″ paper, or is it only for use with A4 format?

Oh, by the way, 1,801 of 1,815 people found the write-up helpful.

That sure did clear the air when it comes to pens.






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So many questions, I need an answer

Friday, January 18th, 2008

Or do I?

I’ve always wanted things reasonable. Who doesn’t? Not that I’m an idealist-perfectionist, but it’s just that there is a grim kind of comfort in things being known, in things having feasible, tight and logical explanations. Boring?


I have never been a huge fan of emotions. The heart, most especially. I hate it when it starts pounding inside your chest uncontrollably, your knees succumbing to the deep dark rhythm that seems to unlock the very hinges that give support to your body. 

The heart is an involuntary muscle — so much so that, at times, it interrupts your existence.


It’s been a fantastic conundrum, emotions. That’s why I’ve always wanted to give feelings some semblance of form - to define it. Maybe that’s why I obsess about art, music and poetry — in some (again) inexplicable way they seem to lend emotions a melody, a color, a figure that I can recognize, and perhaps comprehend. Still, everything eludes me.

It terrifies me, not just because I cannot seem to understand it, but even more so because the only thing I know is that I don’t want to bathe in the grim kind of comfort reason provides anymore.
Emotions are wild, and it is terrifying because we all know we’re drawn to its reckless abandon.


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