milenyo's second coming is due either tomorrow or the day after

ican hear boredom snickering behind me right now

he's safely as annoying as nothing though




im still high after watching ginebra demolish welcoat a few hours ago

im thinking that this nirvana will last for about 24 more hours, which by then would be the start of the typhoon's tantrums

not a pretty event, ofcourse, and the time im expecting my intangible friend to be seriously flirting with me




im assuming no electricity by then, thus im without a quarter of my life


not quite obvious but about half of my life is ginebra.

yet since theyre with me virtually 24/7, missing them wont pose much of a problem. im talking here about the daydreams, the commentator-mock-ups, the brgy-inspired interjections that im doing everytime im not doing anything

the only time meralco would cause me to wish death upon its employees is if by sunday, they still havent restored electricity yet. itll be ginebra-defeating-air21, and im not missing the scenes thatll make ana curse me and my fellow fans



25% of my life would have to be the web



without it, for a few days, im gonna be forced to finally spend time with another friend ive neglected for the past few weeks- my bed


ican hear her calling me right now, actually, her voice so sweet and arms so voluptous, promising me of a moment im sure to lovingly forget later




ican handle her tempations no more. later, ipromise --.

iDO have a life outside ginebra, writing and my dead lovelife, miss guevarra

("what-the-hell-are-you-talking-about"-ers, pls check the comment section on my post before this one. that's wednesday, ithink, night of another boring james yap game)

the problem with that is..

its too heavy to be written for this blog here


oooh, cryptic huh? iremember reading a post of szusza at her LJ some months ago and that really really really struck me:

"ive been doing the rounds on the blogs of my friends and ijust realized that the world must be ending. so while theirs are declamating of the world's sadness, mine will just try to keep everyone on their feet xD"

okay. so im disgracing the name of the 2jrn1 legend with my trying to remember what exactly it is she had said. be assured tho that those were not her words, you know how unorthodox szusza's writing is

the point there is that, whoa, shes right! why am imaking a blog only to make it an (words of xuxa) agony aunt? comeon, the world's have had enough troubles and complaints, and me thinking of putting up a blog and letting mankind know how much ihate my life would not be helping


plus, szusza was my number one target audience those days, when blogging wasnt multiply-famous yet. in no way would iwant my favorite reader to view my entries in disgust of course. so, idecided to talk about nicer things- ginebra, my school-dilemmas and my laughable heart biography


idont think miss P reads this crap anymore, but still, the values she inculcated in me remain so well-defined


and that is why my blog is only about my happy life

happy debut day miss guevarra XD

no sense to write that im bored. whenever ipost something, its sure to be either because ginebra just won or because im on my knees desperately begging for them




the tv's on a purefoods-redbull game. its a pain watching it, knowing that a draw is impossible.




im on the wait for a certain msg

days ago, itold myself not to expect replies, because, well, the conditions surrounding the exchanges were not really that business-like enough to encourage responses

waiting's not fun. right now, its excruciating





excruciating. rainier told me that a journalist must know when and how to use specific words during specific situations

dont use them just because theyre cute

okay. so professor gwapo may have said something like that, but it is still rainier's account that iwill discuss

he told me that when i super-reacted one time (over a Group Text Msg) about the tremendous sense of nationalism my co-ginebra fans were showing during a game against san miguel

he said that, maybe, the word "team spirit" will do, but "nationalism" definitely wont

isaid, hey, here at araneta, it feels like were all part of a single country

he said, its as if ididnt take PGC last year. then he asked me to remember what constitutes a nation

ididnt bother to reply anymore. iwas pissed, yes, but only because he was taking my semi-delirious statements about ginebra legally serious. (plus, caguioa was starting to explode)

imean, comeon, iwas at the Big Dome, with 14thousand something people, most of whom were sharing the same sentiments with me, with the place shaking with every scream everyone makes

why cant a figure of speech be forgiven just to allow a line of uncensored emotions to flow?


but ilove rainier, everyone knows that, even tho were not that close

the guy's cool, ready to charge to cubao with me at any given time as long as PF's playing



iwonder what im going to do the minute cojuangco announces that theyre disbanding Barangay Ginebra already



redbull won the pasyon on the tv. purefoods winning wouldnt have made much of a difference: id still have the box looking at my yawn as sign of my appreciation




ana had me comment on some love poem she posted on multiply. igot inspired, contemplating of coming up with one of my own to proudly stamp here

that was just a thought

im so sick of my words slurring into curses everytime they realize that theyre being used to concretize that feeling somewhere inside my chest

am so sick of them turning out to be much even uglier representations of me

.
iwonder what word would be the best for this feeling









ginebra's going to play simultaneously with my PE on friday. the fates cant possibly get any crueler than that right???

im doing this post with my pupils staring straight at this white space on my monitor for the tenth consecutive minute already

okay. so, considering that ihad just moved them down to see if im tapping the correct keys, thats over-acting


only miggy the sadist would claim, however, that what im saying about what i feel right now is an exaggeration



ive only slept four hours last night. or, more correctly, 'kanina'


iwatched the 7-hour delayed telecast of the brgy.ginebra-stalucia match that ended a few minutes after 1 in the morning


then ihad to wake up at 5 to meet this burly sixth-grader that iwas supposed to teach things like place values and parts of the body



the whole five schooldays before that, iwas sleeping everynight at routine hours between 11 and 12 in the evening

and ofcourse rise at 4 to make myself go to some torturehouse that calls itself a pontifical establishment





so to clarify things, im not impersonating a chinito guy if ever you happened to notice something strange about my eyes lately



iam even supposed to go to sleep right now, having promised myself just that after finishing the assailment in philosophy


ijustdontknow why iam here updating this blog



to all my loyal readers: thats simply how important you are to me, even though you are reading nothing of substance here, ijust keep on pouring them, selflessly for your sake,, so now dont forget my name come this....


even my jokes sound like the real-world-arvee, not like the boredarvee that supposedly authors this site




and now im babbling, about to complete one whole post, with the handicap of cloudy neurons and cloudy pupils




is sleep really that important to homo sapiens sapiens?



oh yes, if youre not a fan of the facial decorations i endorse, sleep is indeed a requirement





how about me- ihave no hope no more, so can iask god to take it away so that many more important things can be done in the time it occupies?



important things like...

watching delayed ginebra telecasts and finding out ways on how to better my social mask?




you were supposed to laugh damnit

ihave just finished bonding with the readings in journ that preached of the evils of cluttering to writer-wannabes



the thing that affects me with that is, even though ihave given up on my dreams of becoming a writer, iam still a student

whose course right now has got a lot to do with writing



a confession: my middle initial isnt C, but if it were, it would have stood for Cluttering

(yes, if only it were caguioa)


my mind is a clutter. my handwriting clutters

my writing style specializes with cluttering



so very especially-for-me were those readings that all icould do while the sentences pierced by me was to smile

and to curse

because it hurts me so much

to realize that the only positive thing with me

(uhm, that's writing, if you havent noticed yet. people in the past said iwrote better than most engineering students)

is not very positive at all



cluttering, as that spectacular author defined it in so many metaphors, was kind of like writing nonsensely


too much words. too little idea



papasam had warned me in the past about that style of mine

ihad to be rejected by the varsi workshop just so ill realize that what he was telling me was gold



no vulgarity can describe what ifelt then. even right now, with the idea of holding a pen and, again, using it on paper without academic intentions



"im never gonna dance again, guilty feet, have got no rhythm"