emo: 11/29/06
1. maiintindihan ko yun.
sabi ko naman sayo gusto ko lang ibigay at gawin yung mga bagay na gusto mo.
ayos lang sakin maghirap.
kasi ang mga naghihirap,kinakaawaan. baka sakaling pag naghirap pako, maawa ka sakin. limusan mo ako ng oras mo.
2. Alam ko. Pero gusto ko.dahil sobrang importante nito sakin. sobrang importante. gusto ko lang maramdaman na may nagmamahal sakin.
sobra ba yung hinihingi ko?
3. ____mag -ano ba tayo para sau? baka kasi ako na lang yung nagmamahal nang higit npa sa kaibigan.baka ako na lang yung may gusto na magkabalikan tayo. baka nangangarap na lang ako o nag iilusyon
4. ___ ano ako sau? treasured one? kasi hanggat hindi mo nasasabi na wala nakong halaga sau, at hindi mo na ako mahal, patuloy akong maghihintay sa panahon na hihingi ako. ano bako? yung balloon na ni-let go o ginive up?
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11/29/2006
11/27/2006
penetrated
my heartbeats raced with the droplets of sweat that ran down my forehead to my chin as i passed by the church. i prayed a couple of our father and hail mary but the guilt will not go away. each step i took on the mud-coated pavement brought back flashes of my grandmother’s warnings about impregnating a woman and ruining my future.
“you might not know, but a pregnant woman can ruin you and your future” she would always remark.
as i wiped the sweat trying to dominate my body, i thought of creative excuses to hide my guilt attached with fear.
i was born at my grandmother’s house in muñoz, nueva ecija, on a sunlight-filled wednesday afternoon of june in 1986. since then, till my 4th grade in primary school, my grandmother looked out for me while my parents were busy at work.
although my grandmother was not in league with the pious senior citizen churchgoers in our town, she sees to it that each morning, she would rave about her strict implementation of values to her children. no premarital sex, no scandals, no cursing, no discussion of sex, no immorality- these were her set of ‘no’ policies that should be observed under the roof of her jurisdiction. she could have been a very proud mother, if not for my father who one day brought with him a woman with a bloated belly; and that is my mom.
i slowed down my pace and thought of how i could disappoint my grandmother if she knew that in a span of nine months, three ladies from our neighborhood will have to deliver babies carrying my genes.
i was on third grade then. it happened one afternoon as my grandmother played cards with the other women of our neighborhood. three of my neighborhood friends were with me; tukne, mayang and jona. i was not sure if it was the afternoon’s temperature or our raging hormones that encouraged us to take off our clothes and lie side by side on our bed. tukne landed on my top, then i landed over jona, then to mayang. our bodies rubbed against each other and i have to say, we all enjoyed the friction that time. our bodies flushed after minutes of fondling and imitating what we saw on porn magazines and videos. it was my body’s first encounter with a woman’s flesh, and i was all filled with guilt, thinking that i could impregnate three women from the neighborhood.
i am a block away from my grandmother’s house. the bleeding gumamela flowers caught between the grills of our fence waved hello to me. as a carabao from the fields passed in front, i uttered a few prayers, took a deep breath and started to slowly accept the rush of future responsibilities banging in my head. parenthood, family planning, work, i tried to wallow those things all at once, thinking that it could have compensate for the scandal that i am about to bring my grandma.
after grandma’s soup hurt my tongue, the screams of tukne’s mother from the backyard alarmed my senses. i thought the hotness of the soup could silence me and keep me from spilling the incident to my grandma, but i was wrong.
tukne’s mother was in rage as she spoke with my grandma about the incident. the next thing i knew, i was placed in her own tribunal where questions about sex were hurled at me all at once.
i explained to her what happened, and fortunately, she released a deep sigh that signified my safety from her wrath. i told her we rub against each other’s bodies and that was it.
i never knew back then that it requires penetration to fertilize a woman. slowly, i was able to take in the ideas of responsibility and control. the fear and guilt i have experienced 12 years ago about sex and impregnating a woman taught me a lot about responsibility. my view of sex has evolved from pure imitation of porn, to lust, to passion then to responsible parenthood.
a pregnant woman brings joy to settled couples, but it often brings miseries to adolescents who are victims of their uncontrolled rage of hormones.
“you might not know, but a pregnant woman can ruin you and your future” she would always remark.
as i wiped the sweat trying to dominate my body, i thought of creative excuses to hide my guilt attached with fear.
i was born at my grandmother’s house in muñoz, nueva ecija, on a sunlight-filled wednesday afternoon of june in 1986. since then, till my 4th grade in primary school, my grandmother looked out for me while my parents were busy at work.
although my grandmother was not in league with the pious senior citizen churchgoers in our town, she sees to it that each morning, she would rave about her strict implementation of values to her children. no premarital sex, no scandals, no cursing, no discussion of sex, no immorality- these were her set of ‘no’ policies that should be observed under the roof of her jurisdiction. she could have been a very proud mother, if not for my father who one day brought with him a woman with a bloated belly; and that is my mom.
i slowed down my pace and thought of how i could disappoint my grandmother if she knew that in a span of nine months, three ladies from our neighborhood will have to deliver babies carrying my genes.
i was on third grade then. it happened one afternoon as my grandmother played cards with the other women of our neighborhood. three of my neighborhood friends were with me; tukne, mayang and jona. i was not sure if it was the afternoon’s temperature or our raging hormones that encouraged us to take off our clothes and lie side by side on our bed. tukne landed on my top, then i landed over jona, then to mayang. our bodies rubbed against each other and i have to say, we all enjoyed the friction that time. our bodies flushed after minutes of fondling and imitating what we saw on porn magazines and videos. it was my body’s first encounter with a woman’s flesh, and i was all filled with guilt, thinking that i could impregnate three women from the neighborhood.
i am a block away from my grandmother’s house. the bleeding gumamela flowers caught between the grills of our fence waved hello to me. as a carabao from the fields passed in front, i uttered a few prayers, took a deep breath and started to slowly accept the rush of future responsibilities banging in my head. parenthood, family planning, work, i tried to wallow those things all at once, thinking that it could have compensate for the scandal that i am about to bring my grandma.
after grandma’s soup hurt my tongue, the screams of tukne’s mother from the backyard alarmed my senses. i thought the hotness of the soup could silence me and keep me from spilling the incident to my grandma, but i was wrong.
tukne’s mother was in rage as she spoke with my grandma about the incident. the next thing i knew, i was placed in her own tribunal where questions about sex were hurled at me all at once.
i explained to her what happened, and fortunately, she released a deep sigh that signified my safety from her wrath. i told her we rub against each other’s bodies and that was it.
i never knew back then that it requires penetration to fertilize a woman. slowly, i was able to take in the ideas of responsibility and control. the fear and guilt i have experienced 12 years ago about sex and impregnating a woman taught me a lot about responsibility. my view of sex has evolved from pure imitation of porn, to lust, to passion then to responsible parenthood.
a pregnant woman brings joy to settled couples, but it often brings miseries to adolescents who are victims of their uncontrolled rage of hormones.
11/25/2006
bitter pill
ayaw mong pinag-aantay ko sila
pero pinaghihintay mo ako ng madalas.
nandito lang ako. maghihintay, hanggang magtugma ang ating mga bituwin at maging konstelasyon sa kalawakan.
nadito lang ako, mag-aabang sa araw ng pagtatagpo ng mga guhit ng ating mga palad. nandito lang ako, maghihintay hanggang sa makita mo akong naghihintay sa iyong muling paglingon.
you are my sweetest downfall.
pero pinaghihintay mo ako ng madalas.
nandito lang ako. maghihintay, hanggang magtugma ang ating mga bituwin at maging konstelasyon sa kalawakan.
nadito lang ako, mag-aabang sa araw ng pagtatagpo ng mga guhit ng ating mga palad. nandito lang ako, maghihintay hanggang sa makita mo akong naghihintay sa iyong muling paglingon.
you are my sweetest downfall.
11/22/2006
take it from the pacman
since the early 20’s boxing has been a popular sport in the philippines which makes me wonder if it has something to do with the filipinos’ collective psyche of passiveness.
generally, filipinos would only act and react if they were directly hurt or somebody close to them was hit offensively by any outside force.
of course, the filipino thinking of passiveness could be attributed to various factors that involve socio-psychological studies, but i believe that the general public’s gusto on boxing has something to do with it.
there is always a guilty pleasure watching the jabs, the punches, the hooks, the cross, and the uppercuts of the boxers.
my grandmother, for instance, likes to watch the slamming and the hitting action on wwf. she was in her 60’s, yet she raves every time her bet batista would smack down an opponent. ironically, after each show, she would rant about the violence of the game and end up feeling sorry for the losers.
as an audience we empathize with our favorite players, thinking that somehow, the boxer within us could help us ease our way through the tuition fee increases, through beating deadlines, through the traffic jam, through the air pollution, through the dengue outbreak, trough poverty, and through the philippine life. the sad thing about that, we empathize so much that we forget to act. we forget to respond to the immediate needs of our society, of ourselves. we can never beat the deadlines, the tuition fee increase, the political killings, the poverty and the injustice by mere sitting down and imagining things to happen right before us.
one trait inherent in most of us filipinos is that we are evasive when it comes to facing our problems. no wonder we could easily divert our attention by delving into telenovelas, engaging in computer games, and laughing at daily jokes. of course there is nothing wrong with diverting our attentions from our problems every once in a while. in fact, it has become our survival mechanism over the years of living in poverty and social instability.
being evasive only turns out wrong when it makes a person apathetic over him/herself and the society.
the fight of pacquiao (aka pacman) and morales (aka el terible) was not just historical, but also monumental. it’s the battle of domination between the colonizer and the colonized.
the colonized indio knocked down the español colonizer in 3 rounds.
300 years of colonization over 3 rounds of boxing fight is one victory to boost the filipino race’s ego.
boxing has caught our interests for the longest time but it appeared as if we haven’t learned from it.
the sport requires the player to subject himself/herself under planning, studying, training, and discipline to step in the pedestal of victory. jabs, hooks, punches and uppercuts without planning and practice were useless. aggression alone does not promise total victory.
say for example the philippine revolution way back in 1896, though it has succeeded in various levels, does not totally free the nation from colonizers. rizal has warned the revolutionaries, take their time and study the situation, but they allowed their aggression to took over, and voila! a not-so-sweet-victory was achieved.
change will only happen if we will and if we act to make it happen.
having a common goal is not enough. we have to examine our motives and our ways in achieving our goals. unity is essential.
it’s funny that we have an un-united opposition in the government. they may have the common goal of doing checks and balances in the government, but the people behind had their own ulterior motives.
i salute the pacman for bringing ounces, even tons of pride to the filipino people. as a boxer, he reminds us to act and respond to the situation, to calculate and plan every move, and to aim for victory.
despite tons of hate messages over pacquiao’s pre-victory, in hope that his advertisers would back out on him, he still won. manny have delivered us a knockout jab that told us to move and act if we wanted to achieve our goals.
thousands of detractors or tons of hate mails could not hinder us from getting what we wanted if we only work for it.
we don’t have to wait to be hit straight in the face in order to deliver a blow.
if we wanted change in this country, we have to take immediate actions to the needs of our society.
manny has nailed it in his song.
“laban mo, laban ko, laban natin ‘to…”
it’s not just your fight; it’s my fight, our fight.
*****************************
digress
a blasphemy:
ipaghihiganti ko si erik morales!
-vina morales
******
generally, filipinos would only act and react if they were directly hurt or somebody close to them was hit offensively by any outside force.
of course, the filipino thinking of passiveness could be attributed to various factors that involve socio-psychological studies, but i believe that the general public’s gusto on boxing has something to do with it.
there is always a guilty pleasure watching the jabs, the punches, the hooks, the cross, and the uppercuts of the boxers.
my grandmother, for instance, likes to watch the slamming and the hitting action on wwf. she was in her 60’s, yet she raves every time her bet batista would smack down an opponent. ironically, after each show, she would rant about the violence of the game and end up feeling sorry for the losers.
as an audience we empathize with our favorite players, thinking that somehow, the boxer within us could help us ease our way through the tuition fee increases, through beating deadlines, through the traffic jam, through the air pollution, through the dengue outbreak, trough poverty, and through the philippine life. the sad thing about that, we empathize so much that we forget to act. we forget to respond to the immediate needs of our society, of ourselves. we can never beat the deadlines, the tuition fee increase, the political killings, the poverty and the injustice by mere sitting down and imagining things to happen right before us.
one trait inherent in most of us filipinos is that we are evasive when it comes to facing our problems. no wonder we could easily divert our attention by delving into telenovelas, engaging in computer games, and laughing at daily jokes. of course there is nothing wrong with diverting our attentions from our problems every once in a while. in fact, it has become our survival mechanism over the years of living in poverty and social instability.
being evasive only turns out wrong when it makes a person apathetic over him/herself and the society.
the fight of pacquiao (aka pacman) and morales (aka el terible) was not just historical, but also monumental. it’s the battle of domination between the colonizer and the colonized.
the colonized indio knocked down the español colonizer in 3 rounds.
300 years of colonization over 3 rounds of boxing fight is one victory to boost the filipino race’s ego.
boxing has caught our interests for the longest time but it appeared as if we haven’t learned from it.
the sport requires the player to subject himself/herself under planning, studying, training, and discipline to step in the pedestal of victory. jabs, hooks, punches and uppercuts without planning and practice were useless. aggression alone does not promise total victory.
say for example the philippine revolution way back in 1896, though it has succeeded in various levels, does not totally free the nation from colonizers. rizal has warned the revolutionaries, take their time and study the situation, but they allowed their aggression to took over, and voila! a not-so-sweet-victory was achieved.
change will only happen if we will and if we act to make it happen.
having a common goal is not enough. we have to examine our motives and our ways in achieving our goals. unity is essential.
it’s funny that we have an un-united opposition in the government. they may have the common goal of doing checks and balances in the government, but the people behind had their own ulterior motives.
i salute the pacman for bringing ounces, even tons of pride to the filipino people. as a boxer, he reminds us to act and respond to the situation, to calculate and plan every move, and to aim for victory.
despite tons of hate messages over pacquiao’s pre-victory, in hope that his advertisers would back out on him, he still won. manny have delivered us a knockout jab that told us to move and act if we wanted to achieve our goals.
thousands of detractors or tons of hate mails could not hinder us from getting what we wanted if we only work for it.
we don’t have to wait to be hit straight in the face in order to deliver a blow.
if we wanted change in this country, we have to take immediate actions to the needs of our society.
manny has nailed it in his song.
“laban mo, laban ko, laban natin ‘to…”
it’s not just your fight; it’s my fight, our fight.
*****************************
digress
a blasphemy:
ipaghihiganti ko si erik morales!
-vina morales
******
11/19/2006
unmask
trying to be a superhero and
carrying the weight
of all the problems in the world
not only
makes you foolish
but also makes you the most conceited person
alive
carrying the weight
of all the problems in the world
not only
makes you foolish
but also makes you the most conceited person
alive
11/16/2006
just when you think your favorite fastfoods are safe, think again
warning: the following contains gory and explicit content
now i know why their chicken meal is expensive.
the police force have to know that there are a million more clones of the clown in red and yellow stripes worldwide.
omg! just imagine the product of a red bee and a brown ice cream girl.
from now on, i have to be cautious with the pink mayo sauce on the burgers that i eat.
video lifted from u tube. first saw it at garytarugo's blog
**********
hindi lahat ng bubuyog itim!
-jollibee
**********
years ago, i remembered how children jumped up and down in excitement as they anticipated the grand entrance of chuckie, kfs's chicken mascot.
back then, i thought their ecstacy over the mascot was brought by the fact that they haven't seen a feather of chuckie yet, or that most children invited that day belonged to those group who branded all mascots in the society as entertaining.
i watched how those children screamed and pestered their parents just to see the (undressed) chicken dance. after about 20 minutes of waiting, chuckie finally appeared and i was surprised by what happened next.
a few seconds after chuckie exposed itself, total silence filled the room, then a series of sreams and cries bounced on every walls of the area. all children ran back to their parents as they wore fear over their innocent faces. and from that instance, i've concluded that seeing a huge dancing white chicken in front of you while eating chicken, is not a pretty good sight.
now i know why their chicken meal is expensive.
the police force have to know that there are a million more clones of the clown in red and yellow stripes worldwide.
omg! just imagine the product of a red bee and a brown ice cream girl.
from now on, i have to be cautious with the pink mayo sauce on the burgers that i eat.
video lifted from u tube. first saw it at garytarugo's blog
**********
hindi lahat ng bubuyog itim!
-jollibee
**********
years ago, i remembered how children jumped up and down in excitement as they anticipated the grand entrance of chuckie, kfs's chicken mascot.
back then, i thought their ecstacy over the mascot was brought by the fact that they haven't seen a feather of chuckie yet, or that most children invited that day belonged to those group who branded all mascots in the society as entertaining.
i watched how those children screamed and pestered their parents just to see the (undressed) chicken dance. after about 20 minutes of waiting, chuckie finally appeared and i was surprised by what happened next.
a few seconds after chuckie exposed itself, total silence filled the room, then a series of sreams and cries bounced on every walls of the area. all children ran back to their parents as they wore fear over their innocent faces. and from that instance, i've concluded that seeing a huge dancing white chicken in front of you while eating chicken, is not a pretty good sight.
11/14/2006
mantra no more
as I face the blinking cursor lying on the white background of the computer monitor,
i kept telling myself,
ga-graduate ako on time
ga-graduate ako on time
****
then i realized how much time i've wasted
and packed my things for school.
my last sem (hopefully) oficially starts today.
i kept telling myself,
ga-graduate ako on time
ga-graduate ako on time
****
then i realized how much time i've wasted
and packed my things for school.
my last sem (hopefully) oficially starts today.
11/12/2006
point . less
i stand by my decision, and it’s final. this is not a follow-up of my july 23 post regarding the resemblance of joseph and mura. This is just to prove my point to my sister that the following persons do share some similar features.
tyron of starstruck and teri onor of eat bulaga do have physical similarities.
if you would just look closely you will notice my point.
pardon the pictures i got over the internet.
it takes time to notice their similarities on the screen. being a fan of local tv shows is a prerequisite.
on the other hand, model-actor zanjoe marudo and diego llorico of bubble gang also looked alike in some ways. i know this one’s pretty absurd (zanjoe=diego), but lately, after getting hooked with super inggo, i’ve noticed that zanjoe’s shots in the tv series resembled some of diego’s features. i’m not kidding. zanjoe’s (the picture on the left) picture above was taken from the super inggo site. i got diego’s picture from his friendster account.
now don't they look alike?
even a bit?
***********
disclaimer: this post does not intend to hurt the characters involved and place them on a laughing-stock.
i just wanted to prove a point.
to the fans of the featured people: please do not send me hate mails.
tyron of starstruck and teri onor of eat bulaga do have physical similarities.
if you would just look closely you will notice my point.
pardon the pictures i got over the internet.
it takes time to notice their similarities on the screen. being a fan of local tv shows is a prerequisite.
on the other hand, model-actor zanjoe marudo and diego llorico of bubble gang also looked alike in some ways. i know this one’s pretty absurd (zanjoe=diego), but lately, after getting hooked with super inggo, i’ve noticed that zanjoe’s shots in the tv series resembled some of diego’s features. i’m not kidding. zanjoe’s (the picture on the left) picture above was taken from the super inggo site. i got diego’s picture from his friendster account.
now don't they look alike?
even a bit?
***********
disclaimer: this post does not intend to hurt the characters involved and place them on a laughing-stock.
i just wanted to prove a point.
to the fans of the featured people: please do not send me hate mails.
11/08/2006
massage failed
the moon was persistent in painting the light-deprived streets of camp aguinaldo with its beams. as my hands pressed its way from my father’s back down to his feet for massage, i saw from our window how moonbeams tried their best to penetrate areas still embraced with darkness.
i tried my best to connect with my father’s nerves by exerting extra pressure. every ounce of oil spread across his back entails a hope of reconciliation; reconciliation between a father and son’s sensibility over each other’s feelings. each stroke i made was filled with hopes that he might understand me as a person. each press was an attempt to express my appreciation towards his being a provider, my pity on our miscommunications, my rants over his being insensitive and inattentive over me and my sister’s feelings, and my grief over our failures of recognizing and knowing each other well.
the moon did a god job in exposing the shards of the broken beer bottles exposed in the street, in illuminating the uprooted tree at the back of the gymnasium where 2 children died years ago and in showing the way to the walking soldiers drowned in alcohol.
from our 4th floor government-provided pseudo condominium unit, i saw how the moon took the job of the electric sans light posts on the road. i saw its attempts to manifest its light over a city hidden under the blankets of the night. the moon’s sincerity of intention to show and uncover the secrets of the dark was evident, but its limitations were more visible from the top.
the smoke and drink sessions of the teen minors in the neighborhood successfully evaded the moon’s inquisitive beams by staying inside the abandoned truck on the street. dogs and cats feasted on the freshly-dumped garbage bags under the tree on the corner of the street, a few meters away from the gymnasium. silhouettes of shadows of sleeping soldiers on duty decorated the windows of the nearby office.
after minutes of establishing connection to the nerves, my father’s muscles relaxed, which meant rest for my fingers. a soft snore from him indicated the closure of the connection. the slight numbness of my hands told me that my appreciation, my pity, my rants and my grief all failed to strike a nerve.
looking back at the window, i reckoned that in its fullest form, the moon does wonders on earth. no doubt it’s a good source of light but it can never surpass the sun.
having a tree minute discourse with my father a day is an achievement for me. years back, my father and i had a supposed to be open-minded conversation over our various issues. right after i aired my stand, he immediately concluded the discussion and made it appear that i was wrong all along. since then, it occurred to me that my father speaks of infallible words and that a decent conversation is a farfetched idea.
lately, i’ve realized that my masseur skills were not enough to compensate for my lack of courage to spark up a simple conversation.
a simple massage could have said much, but it does not guarantee understanding. there’s also the risk of sending the wrong signals. a wrong press in a nerve could be fatal.
the moon did a god job in exposing the shards of the broken beer bottles exposed in the street, in illuminating the uprooted tree at the back of the gymnasium where 2 children died years ago and in showing the way to the walking soldiers drowned in alcohol.
from our 4th floor government-provided pseudo condominium unit, i saw how the moon took the job of the electric sans light posts on the road. i saw its attempts to manifest its light over a city hidden under the blankets of the night. the moon’s sincerity of intention to show and uncover the secrets of the dark was evident, but its limitations were more visible from the top.
the smoke and drink sessions of the teen minors in the neighborhood successfully evaded the moon’s inquisitive beams by staying inside the abandoned truck on the street. dogs and cats feasted on the freshly-dumped garbage bags under the tree on the corner of the street, a few meters away from the gymnasium. silhouettes of shadows of sleeping soldiers on duty decorated the windows of the nearby office.
after minutes of establishing connection to the nerves, my father’s muscles relaxed, which meant rest for my fingers. a soft snore from him indicated the closure of the connection. the slight numbness of my hands told me that my appreciation, my pity, my rants and my grief all failed to strike a nerve.
looking back at the window, i reckoned that in its fullest form, the moon does wonders on earth. no doubt it’s a good source of light but it can never surpass the sun.
having a tree minute discourse with my father a day is an achievement for me. years back, my father and i had a supposed to be open-minded conversation over our various issues. right after i aired my stand, he immediately concluded the discussion and made it appear that i was wrong all along. since then, it occurred to me that my father speaks of infallible words and that a decent conversation is a farfetched idea.
lately, i’ve realized that my masseur skills were not enough to compensate for my lack of courage to spark up a simple conversation.
a simple massage could have said much, but it does not guarantee understanding. there’s also the risk of sending the wrong signals. a wrong press in a nerve could be fatal.
*****************************
nothing related:
q: you have the face of an angel but the mouth of a fishmonger from brixton. how come?
a: are you accusing brixton fishmongers of being ugly? ha! anyway, why must "pretty" girls (i'm not saying i am)
but all demure and nice? and ugly girls can sprout vulgarities just because they look bad? thats a thrashy stereotype!
-from the blogger xiaxue
11/05/2006
digress from realities
intoxication from loads of domestic, academic, psychological and emotional battles forced me to imagine myself playing square-enix's latest release of the final fantasy game.
with graphics, storyline and gameplay that can stun even your most active nerves, this role playing game (rpg) can sure help you escape intoxication.
ironically, i can only wallow in fantasy of playing the game.
i do not own any ps2 and i have no plans of buying one.
i still believe in charity. anyways, christmas is just around the corner.
to further satiate your cravings for fantasy and adventure, you may visit:
square-enix
final fantasy.net
for the game review, visit:
yahoo game review
************
one reason why jk rowling could be one of the richest persons in the world was that she presented an alternative realm of magic and fantasy to the mostly-drowned-in-work-and-stress people of the world.
movie stills were out in cyberspace, but the movie premieres on the 13th of july next year.
i am a fan. the third book was my favorite, i still consider the 4th book the most adventurous and i am still disappointed on the 5th book. up to now, i still have grudges over the magic89.9 dj who mispronounced the word on the harry potter spelling contest i joined years back. i could have won the complete set of hardbound books from scholastic.
movie stills were lifted from mugglenet.com
with graphics, storyline and gameplay that can stun even your most active nerves, this role playing game (rpg) can sure help you escape intoxication.
ironically, i can only wallow in fantasy of playing the game.
i do not own any ps2 and i have no plans of buying one.
i still believe in charity. anyways, christmas is just around the corner.
to further satiate your cravings for fantasy and adventure, you may visit:
square-enix
final fantasy.net
for the game review, visit:
yahoo game review
************
one reason why jk rowling could be one of the richest persons in the world was that she presented an alternative realm of magic and fantasy to the mostly-drowned-in-work-and-stress people of the world.
movie stills were out in cyberspace, but the movie premieres on the 13th of july next year.
i am a fan. the third book was my favorite, i still consider the 4th book the most adventurous and i am still disappointed on the 5th book. up to now, i still have grudges over the magic89.9 dj who mispronounced the word on the harry potter spelling contest i joined years back. i could have won the complete set of hardbound books from scholastic.
movie stills were lifted from mugglenet.com
11/04/2006
so much about ignorance of nations
united nations survey
"would you please give your honest opinion about shortage of food in the rest of the world?"
the survey failed because:
-in africa, people didn't know what "food" was
-in china they didn't know what "opinion" was
-in europe they didn't know what "shortage" was
-filipino leaders don't know what "honest" meant
-france didn't know what please "was"
-in america, they didn't know what "the rest of the world" meant
*got this from a forwarded sms
"would you please give your honest opinion about shortage of food in the rest of the world?"
the survey failed because:
-in africa, people didn't know what "food" was
-in china they didn't know what "opinion" was
-in europe they didn't know what "shortage" was
-filipino leaders don't know what "honest" meant
-france didn't know what please "was"
-in america, they didn't know what "the rest of the world" meant
*got this from a forwarded sms
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