<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257453140924798834</id><updated>2011-09-11T06:39:30.969-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Arid Pens, Rotten Inkblots</title><subtitle type='html'>And all I do is just procrastinate and write. It feels good. They mix up I guess.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Camille Anne Arcilla</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09580074624588960023</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Spwhxf7b3sE/SsWtfE2UnXI/AAAAAAAAAAs/19Ka6r3Op8U/S220/5974_1216781104129_1366894883_776658_7206100_n.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>26</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257453140924798834.post-5919465209343971365</id><published>2010-07-09T02:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-09T02:55:35.151-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thesis at Tequila</title><content type='html'>Kabado at pigil-hininga akong umupo sa may sala habang hinihintay ko silang nag-uusap. Hinahanda ko na rin ang sarili ko sa anumang sermon o singhal na maririnig ko mamaya. Tiyak, bilang mga magulang ko, papagalitan nila ako sa nangyari sa akin kanina.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ngunit pagbalik ni Mama galing sa kwarto, bitbit niya ang tuwalyang pamunas at gamot para sa pasa ko sa mukha. Dahan-dahan niyang pinunasan ang aking sugat sa may pisngi. Nang biglang dumating si Papa, yumuko ako bigla upang hindi makita ang reaksyon sa mukha niya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Nakausap ko na ang may-ari ng bar. Sila na daw bahala,” sabi niya kay Mama.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Napatingin si Mama sa akin sabay sabing, “Kate, anak, ano ba talaga ang nangyari? &lt;br /&gt;Akala ko may thesis kayong inaasikaso?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hindi ko na alam ang isasagot. Buntong-hininga ko na lang na sinabi na, “Patawad po. Hindi ko na uulitin. Pangako.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Katie! Tara, shot na! Maaga pa naman!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Agad akong hinila nila Marko paglabas namin ng klase. Umayaw man ako at sabihing hindi ako sasama, wala na akong magagawa. Nakasakay na ako sa kotse kasama ang mga taong palaging handa sa mga ganitong inuman. Kami na naman ulit ang magkakasama, gabi-gabi na lang.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Simula ng tumuntong kami sa ika-apat na taon ng kolehiyo at naipakilala kami sa thesis, natuto akong uminom ng alak at magsinungaling sa magulang ko. Dahil na rin siguro sa sobrang pagod at hirap na dala ng thesis, iniisip na lang namin ng mga thesis-mates ko na lilipas din ito. Ang importante, dahil huling taon na namin ito sa kolehiyo, kailangan naming magpakasaya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I-text mo na sila Mama mo, sabihin mo may thesis ulit tayo,” sabi ni Faye.&lt;br /&gt;Ginawa ko ang sinabi ni Faye. At wala pang isang minuto, nag-reply kaagad si Mama at sinabing, “Sige anak, basta mag-ingat ka ha.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kahit nung bata pa ako, hindi nagkulang sa pangaral sa akin sila Mama at Papa. Kahit anong patimpalak at organisasyon ang salihan ko, suportado at ipinagmamalaki nila. At dahil solong anak lang ako, lahat ng layaw ko, nasusunod, kahit madalas ay dinadaan nila ito bilang premyo sa akin dahil isa daw akong “mabait na anak”. At dahil dun, sinusunod ko ang mga pangaral nila. Minsan lamang ako kung sumuway sa mga bilin ng aking mga magulang. Pero pag-tuntong ko sa kolehiyo, nag-iba lahat ng pananaw at ugali ko.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh, andito na tayo!” sigaw ni Marko. “Kayo na um-order, ipa-park ko lang ‘tong kotse ko.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wala masyadong tao sa bar nun. Siguro dahil na rin sa may pasok bukas. Pumwesto kami sa may mesa malapit sa may banda at tinawag ang waiter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Kuya, isang bote nga ng tequila. Tsaka isang sisig.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yun lang po?” sabi ng waiter habang pinagmamasdan niya kaming lahat. “Patingin na lang po ako ng I.D. niyo.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nakalimutan kong naka-uniporme pa kami. Kukunin ko na sana ang ID ko sa bag, pero pinigilan ako ni Alyssa. “Alam mo Kuya, nasa edad na kami. Kung gusto mo pa nga eh driver’s license pa ng boyfriend ko ang ipakita ko eh?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ma’am, bawal po kasi ang menor de edad dito.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hindi porke naka-uniporme kami eh menor de edad kami!” singit ni Faye habang inaabot ang I.D. niya. “Ayan, para makuntento ka. Kuha mo na lang kami ng order namin!”&lt;br /&gt;Umalis na ang waiter habang papalapit naman si Marko sa table namin. “Anong nangyari? Mukhang masama ata timpla ng waiter na yun, ha?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Wala, babe. Nevermind him,” sagot ni Alyssa. Niyakap niya ang kasintahan at hinalikan sa pisngi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nang bumalik ang waiter, dali-daling binuksan ni Marko ang tequila at binigyan ako. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ikaw mauna, Kate. Para sa pagsisinungaling sa magulang mo.” Tumatawa siya ng malakas habang sinsabi ito. Hindi ko mawari kung binubulungan ba ako ng konsiyensya ko na huwag inumin ang nasa baso o sadyang maingay lang sa bar. Pero nagawa ko pa ring inumin ang binigay ni Marko.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh, one shot down! Para sa thesis!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Umikot ang bote ng tequila sa aming apat. Umikot din ang gabi ng kwentuhan at pagsasaya. Dalawang bote at tatlong platong sisig ang naubos. Patuloy pa rin kami sa tawanan na para bang walang pasok kinabukasan. Patuloy pa rin sa pagtanggi na tinamaan na kami ng alak. Bakit ganun kapag lasing ang isang tao? Patuloy niyang itatanggi na lasing siya kahit halata naman? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hanggang sa may lumapit sa akin na lalake. “Miss, puwede bang makuha ang number mo?”&lt;br /&gt;“Ayoko. And excuse me, I don’t talk to strangers.” Pero patuloy pa rin sa pangungulit ang lalake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hinarangan ni Marko ang lalake. “Pare, anong problema? Huwag mong pilitin yung kasama ko, nakaka-bastos ka na eh!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ikaw pare ang nakakabastos!” At biglang sinuntok ng lalake sa mukha ang aking kaibigan. Tinulungan siya ng mga kasama niya sa paggulpi kay Marko. Sa kagustuhan kong tumulong, pinigilan ko ang isa pang lalakeng may hawak na basag na bote. Pero imbes na nalayo sa kapahamakan, nahiwa ako sa mukha ng hawak niyang bote. Nahampas din ako ng upuan sa likod at nawalan ng malay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pagbalik ng aking ulirat, kaharap ko na si Mama at nasa loob na kami ng kotse na minamaneho ni Papa. Binulungan ako ni Mama na, “Anak, matulog ka na muna. Gisingin na lang kita ‘pag nasa bahay na tayo.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Matapos ang insidenteng iyon sa bar, pinangako sa mga magulang ko at pati na rin sa sarili ko na hindi na ako uulit. Lalayuan ko na rin muna ang mga nagsilbing ‘kaibigan’ ko sa gabing iyon. Kahit na thesis-mates ko sila, ako na muna ang gagawa ng paraan upang matapos ang natitirang kabanata ng aming thesis. Papalipasin ko muna ang mga nangyaring iyon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Madalas na rin akong umuwi ng maaga nun. Pagkatapos ng klase ay diretso na akong sumasakay ng dyip pauwi sa amin. Kapag nagkakasalubong kami nila Faye ay ngumingiti na lamang ako ngunit hindi kami nagbabatian.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tatlong buwan bago ang graduation, tinext ako ni Faye. “Kate, usap tayo.” &lt;br /&gt;Nagkasama muli kaming apat para mag-usap. Pero ngayon, sa may fastfood chain na at hindi na sa bar. Walang umiimik hanggang sa nagsalita si Alyssa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Kate, patawarin mo kami sa nangyari nung isang gabi. Paumanhin pero, kailangan na nating matapos ang thesis natin.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Niyakap ako bigla ni Faye at tinapik ni Marko sa likod. Tama sila, malapit na kaming magtapos ngunit di pa rin namin nagagawa ang huling kabanata ng thesis namin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Nagawa ko na yung iba,” sabi ko. “Tulungan niyo na lang akong tapusin. Sana maayos na tayo ngayon. Wala munang alak. Ipangako niyo yan sa akin.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sumang-ayon sila sa kondisyon ko. Pagkatapos namin kumain ay nag-plano na kami para sa aming thesis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Kate, para matapos natin kaagad, overnight tayo bukas kina Alyssa. Okay lang ba &lt;br /&gt;sayo?” tanong sa akin ni Faye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Magpapaalam muna ako sa mga magulang ko.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kinagabihan, pinagpaalam ko kina Mama ang napagkasunduang overnight kina Alyssa. Ipinaliwanag ko sa kanila ang aming thesis para masiguradong papayagan ako.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Sigurado ka bang kina Alyssa kayo matutulog? Ayoko ng maulit ang nangyari dati, Katrina,” sabi ni Papa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Opo. Pangako.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kinabukasan, pagkatapos ng aming klase, dali-dali na kaming sumakay ng kotse ni Marko. Ngunit nakakapagtakang ako lamang ang may bitbit na malaking bag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Wala kayong dalang gamit?” tanong ko.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Huwag kang magagalit, Kate. Pero... hindi talaga tayo matutulog sa amin. Mag-bar &lt;br /&gt;naman tayo ulit oh. Promise, last na ‘to,” pangiting sinabi sa akin ni Alyssa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ano?! Ibaba niyo ako sa kotse!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Relax lang Kate, huli na ‘to. Uuwi ka ng maayos, huwag kang mag-alala,” sabi ni Marko. “Isa pa, gabi na at malayo na tayo. Wala ka ng masasakyan.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wala na naman akong nagawa. Hindi na lang ako umimik hanggang makarating kami sa bar. &lt;br /&gt;Pagtingin ko sa aking cellphone, may isang text galing kay Mama. “Anak, ingat ha. May tiwala kami sa iyo ng Papa mo.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Umupo na kami at um-order ulit ng isang boteng tequila si Faye. Dating waiter pa din ang nagsilbi sa amin. Pero ngayon, hindi niya na hiningi ang aming I.D.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Kuya, tubig na lang sa akin,” utos ko sa waiter. Hindi na nagsalita sila Alyssa sa desisyon kong hindi uminom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Umikot muli ang gabi sa usapan, tawanan, at isang bote ng tequila. Kahit hindi ako uminom, nakisama na lang ako sa kanila. Lumapit ang waiter sa amin at nag-abot ang isang baso ng cocktail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ma’am, free drinks po ng bar. Cocktail drinks po, wala namang alcohol ‘yan,” sabi niya¬ sa akin. Tamang-tama, ayokong malasing ngayong gabi. Pagkatapos nitong inuman, uuwi na ako kaagad sa amin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ininom ko ang binigay ng waiter sa akin. Nang maubos ko ito, unti-unti akong nakaramdam ng hilo at kirot sa tiyan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Excuse me, pupunta lang ako sa banyo,” sabi ko sa mga kasama ko.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lumakas ang sakit ng tiyan ko at ang hilo na nararamdaman ko ay napalitan ng sakit ng ulo. Sa pagbukas ko ng pinto, nawalan ako ng balanse at bumagsak sa sahig. Naramdaman kong may lalakeng bumubuhat sa akin at tuluyan akong nawalan ng malay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Umikot ang gabi sa amoy ng alak at sigarilyo. At dating tawanan at usapan ay napalitan ng sakit, hapdi at pagkagulanit ng pagkatao. Hindi ko nagawang lumaban sapagkat nanghihina ang dapat sana’y matatag na katawan. Paulit-ulit kong naririnig ang bilin ni Mama sa akin. Anak, mag-ingat ka.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alas tres y medya ng umaga ng matagpuan nila akong tanging sando lamang ang suot, nakahandusay sa gilid ng kalsada malapit sa bar. Agad akong dinala sa ospital ng mga taong nakakita sa akin. Nanghihina pa rin ang buong katawan ko kahit na nakahiga na ako sa isang malambot na kama ng emergency room. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pinilit kong idilat ang aking mata ng marinig ko ang boses ni Mama at Papa. Lumapit sila sa akin na lumuluha habang hawak-hawak ni Mama ang aking kamay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Buong lakas kong sinabi na, “Patawad po. Hindi ko na uulitin. Pangako.” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pinikit ko na ang aking mata para sa isang mahimbing na pagtulog.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5257453140924798834-5919465209343971365?l=aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/feeds/5919465209343971365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5257453140924798834&amp;postID=5919465209343971365' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/5919465209343971365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/5919465209343971365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/2010/07/thesis-at-tequila.html' title='Thesis at Tequila'/><author><name>Camille Anne Arcilla</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09580074624588960023</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Spwhxf7b3sE/SsWtfE2UnXI/AAAAAAAAAAs/19Ka6r3Op8U/S220/5974_1216781104129_1366894883_776658_7206100_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257453140924798834.post-2852052592512937339</id><published>2010-06-27T01:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-27T01:55:09.794-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Anika (Part 3)</title><content type='html'>Nakakainis. May nakaupo na sa paborito kong lugar sa field. Kahit madilim, tanaw ko na sa malayo na may nakaupo na rito. Mapipilitan tuloy akong lumipat ng lugar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Anika! Nakaiskor ka kay Ma’am A. kanina ah!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kahit di na ako lumingon, alam ko na kung kaninong boses galing yun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ano namang pakielam mo, ha? Lucas?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ay, ang baduy naman. Luke na lang, pwede?” habang sinesenyasan niya akong umupo sa tabi niya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Whatever,” habang lumalayo ako ng konti. ”Ayoko nga umupo diyan.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Bakit naman? Sige, aalis na lang ako para makaupo ka lang. Ni-reserve ko nga ito para sayo kasi may uupo sanang mga nag-jojogging dito eh. Sige ah.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ang drama mo. Sige na, umupo ka na diyan. Uupo na rin ako.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yehey! So kumusta naman si Ma’am A.? Haha! Kinawawa ka ata kanina.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ayoko siyang kausapin. Ganito talaga ako kapag gabi. Tahimik at nakatingin sa langit. Di ko namalayan na habang nakatitig ako sa taas, siya naman ang nakatingin sa akin. Hindi ko na lang pinansin. Away na naman ‘to. Lilipas din naman ang oras.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Umuwi ka na. Uuwi na rin ako,” sabi ko sakanya habang inaabot ko ang bag niya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh, bakit? Wala pa namang curfew ah.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Gutom na ako. Uuwi na ako.” Naglalakad na ako ng sinasabi ko ito. Nakabuntot naman siya sa akin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh, eh di tara. Sabay na tayong kumain.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hindi na. May pagakain sa dorm. Tsaka magre-review pa ako, may quiz sa Monday eh.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Bakit si Keb di nag-aaral? Haha. Sige, hatid na lang kita.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hindi na ako umimik hanggang makarating kami sa tapat ng gate namin. Nakatingin lang siya sa akin habang sinesenyasan ko siyang umalis na. Tinawanan niya lang ako.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Biglang nag-ring ang cellpone ko. Calling... Tita Lani.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Uy, Luke, excuse muna... Hello, Tita? Bakit po?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Iha, kasama mo ba si bunso? Wala pa hanggang ngayon eh. Nag-aalala na ako.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ah, eh... Opo Tita! Kasama ko. Umo-order lang po ng pagkain dito sa Jollibee. Nagpaturo po kasi sa akin sa quiz eh kaya nagabihan kami. Pasensya na po, Tita, inabot ng gutom yung bunso niyo eh.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Okay lang, iha. Sabihin mo magtext na lang kapag uuwi na siya ha? Salamat sa pagtulong mo sakanya mag-aral. Daan ka ulit dito minsan, Anika iha. Sige. Ingat na lang.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At binaba niya na ang telepono. Tinext ko ka agad si Mark. “Mark, tumawag si Tita. Umuwi ka na raw. Don’t worry, lusot ka na. Sundae kapalit niyan ah.” Message sent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Sino yun, siyota mo? Yikee!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Wala akong siyota. Nanay yun ng kaibigan ko. Hinahanap niya kasi yung kaibigan ko sakin.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“At nagpalusot ka naman?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Kawawa naman si Mark eh.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Kawawa naman nung nanay oh. Tsk tsk,” sabi ni Luke habang umiiling-iling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Umuwi ka na nga!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Opo, Ma’am!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dali-dali akong pumanhik sa taas ng makaalis si Luke. Nang makapasok ako ng kwarto, nakita ko kaagad yung pagkain sa mesa ni Abbie. Nakalimutan kong bumili ng pagkain at sa sobrang gutom, kumulo ang tiyan ko ng malakas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hala ka, sabi ko na nga ba gutom ka na naman Ikang eh,” sabi sa akin ni Abbie habang tumatawa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Eh, sorry. Hindi kasi ako nakabili ng pagkain ko.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Dahil...?” tanong ni Ate Joy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Alam niyo na yun. Field ulit.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tumawa silang lahat sabay tanong si Riz ng, “Eh sino yung kasama mo kanina? Haha! Field pala ha!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Narinig namin yung boses mo kanina. May kausap ka ata. Usually naman mag-isa ka lang umuuwi o kaya kasabay mo si Mark eh. Ang tangkad naman ata ni Mark ngayon, di ba Ate Joy?” sabi ni Abbie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Haha, tsaka pumuti si Mark!” patawang sabi ni Ate Joy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“At kamukha niya pala si Lucas Austria. Yung vice president ng Engineering Student Council. Tell us, Anika. Sige ka, wala kang food. Sisig ‘to oh.” Ayos din ‘to si Abbie, may pang-blackmail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Pwede bang kumain muna? Then let’s talk,” sagot ko na lang.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lucas Austria. At habang kumakain ako, kinewkwento ko na si Luke sa kanila.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5257453140924798834-2852052592512937339?l=aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/feeds/2852052592512937339/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5257453140924798834&amp;postID=2852052592512937339' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/2852052592512937339'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/2852052592512937339'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/2010/06/anika-part-3.html' title='Anika (Part 3)'/><author><name>Camille Anne Arcilla</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09580074624588960023</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Spwhxf7b3sE/SsWtfE2UnXI/AAAAAAAAAAs/19Ka6r3Op8U/S220/5974_1216781104129_1366894883_776658_7206100_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257453140924798834.post-309814859662503793</id><published>2010-06-12T07:08:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-12T07:14:21.607-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Anika (Part 2)</title><content type='html'>Kinaumagahan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Rise and shine, Nika girl! Male-late ka na naman niyan!” sabi ni Riz sa akin habang inaalog ang double deck na kamang ako lang ang humihiga.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Anong oras na ba?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“6:30 na kaya,” sagot ni Ate Joy. Naku lagot na, late na naman ako! Dali-dali kong kinuha ang aking tuwalya at naligo. Pakatapos ay nagbihis, wala ng suklay-suklay, kuha ng bag at kagad na umalis na.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Bye Ikang beybeh! Baka madapa ka, dahan-dahan!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Narinig ko yun na sinabi ni Abbie habang pababa ako ng hagdan. Ikang ang tawag sa akin sa bahay. Ayokong may tumatawag sa akin ng ganun dito sa Maynila. Ang bantot pakinggan ng Ikang kesa sa Nika o Anika.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tumakbo ako papuntang building namin. Buti na lang pwede ako mag-elevator. Iskolar kasi, may I.D., kaya pwede. Pagdating sa ikatlong palapag, pumasok na ako kagad sa kwarto namin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Good morning, sir.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Guillermo, anong oras na?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Patay, naiwan ko pa yung relo ko. “Sir, hindi ko po alam.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Kaya pala late ka. Sigurado ka bang nakaligo ka ng maayos?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tawanan sa buong klase. Naalala kong hindi pa pala ako nakakapagsuklay. Wala rin namang kaso sa akin kasi para ko na ring mga kapatid ang mga kaklase ko.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You can sit down now Guillermo. At pahiramin niyo siya ng suklay, class,” natatawang pagsabi ni Sir Chua.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nag-bell na. Hudyat na kelangan na naming lumipat ng kwarto para sa susunod na klase. Nagugutom na ako, hindi kasi ako nag-almusal eh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Anika, wala daw si Ma’am Elgar ngayon. May meeting kasi ang faculty eh. Tara, kain tayo?” Basta talaga sa kainan, sila Mark lagi ang kasama ko. Dahil nga Architecture ako, kokonti lang ang babae sa aming klase.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Sakto, gutom na ako. Tara!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lumabas kami ng building at bumili ng footlong sa may gym. Walang kahati. Nakakaubos ako ng isang buong footlong na ako lang mag-isa ang kumakain. May kabagalan nga lang.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Takaw mo talaga, Anika! Mamigay ka naman. Haha!” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Loko ka Kevin, eh hindi pa nga ako nag-aalmusal.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Eh bakit si Cheenie, hindi rin nag-almusal tapos hindi naman ganyan katakaw?” sabi ni Paolo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Iba si Cheenie, nagre-reduce yun. Malamang sasali na naman sa Miss Archi yun.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Eh kung ikaw naman ang sumali, Nika? Para maiba naman,” sabi ni Mark habang kumukuha sa footlong ko.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Uy akin yan! Ayoko nga. Tigilan niyo nga ako. Hindi naman ako mahilig sa mga ganyan.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Haha! Sabi mo eh,” umiling na lang si Paolo. “Oh guys, alam niyo na kung sino bet ng section natin this year ah. Yung babaeng hindi nagsusuklay. Hahahaha!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Loko ka, Pao! Shut up!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tawanan kami ng tawanan habang kumakain sa may pavilion. Nang maubos ang kinakain ko, hiniram ko ang SLR ni Kevin at kumuha ng konting shots sa mga naglalaro sa field. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Balang araw, makakabili rin ako ng sarili kong SLR. Konting ipon na lang.&lt;br /&gt;Habang kumukuha ako ng mga litrato, napansin ko ang lalake na nasa may food stand sa gym. Matangkad at maputi. Mukhang pamilyar ang itsura. Inangat ko ang camera sa mata ko at inayos ko ang zoom. Habang papalapit ng papalapit ang lens ng camera, lumalapit din ang lalakeng may dalang pizza.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;”Hello Ate Dean’s Office! Bakit mo ako kukunan ng picture? Siguro crush mo ako noh?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Kuyang makulit? Hindi kita kukunan ng picture, ang kapal mo naman! Sinusubukan ko lang ‘tong camera ni...”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Keb, pare! Kumusta? Long time no see!” At lumapit siya kay Kevin. Magkakilala pala sila. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh, Lucas! Andito ka pa pala? Akala ko debarred ka na?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Baliw! Syempre, hindi pa. Mabait si dean eh,” sabi ni Luke habang napatingin siya sa akin. Iniwasan ko siya at ibinaling ko ang atensyon ko sa camera ni Keb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Patuloy silang nagkwentuhan ni Keb. Nalaman ko na magkaklase pala sila noong high school sa Ateneo. Bestfriends pa nga sila eh. Coincidence lang ang lahat, Anika. Huwag mo na lang pansinin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Luke, nga pala, napasarap tayo ng kwento. Mga kaklase ko nga pala. Si Mark, si Paolo tsaka si Anika.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Nice meeting you all,” sabi niya sa amin habang kinakamayan sila Mark at Pao. “Pa’no pare, una nako. May klase pa kasi ako eh.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Kami rin eh,” sabi ko.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Haha. Sige ah, see you around, Anika,” sabi niya sa akin sabay tapik sa likod ko. At umalis na sila ng mga kaklase niya. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Si Nika, pare, nagba-blush oh,” pabirong sabi ni Mark habang tinuturo kay Kevin ang pisngi ko. Bigla ko itong tinakpan ng kamay ko.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oo nga ‘no? Anika, magkakilala ba kayo ni Luke?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tumango na lang ako. At habang naglalakad pabalik sa aming classroom, kwinento ko ang mga nangyari kahapon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Uy Keb, yung lunch ko ha? Sa may Engineering office lang naman ako eh. Okay?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Eto talaga si Anika, kung makapag-utos, eh parang laging may alalay,” sagot sakin ni Kevin habang inaabot ko yung pambili ng pagkain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Sige ka, di kita papansinin ng isang linggo. Matakot ka na. Haha!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oo na nga mahal na prinsesa. Bibilhan na po.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Salamat Keb!” At tumakbo na ako papunta sa Engineering building.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pagdating ko sa office, inutusan kaagad akong mag-ayos ng mga papel sa desk ni dean. Makalat talaga si dean, lalo na kapag malapit na ang exams ng mga estudyante. Pero sanay na akong ayusin yung desk niya. Dalawang taon na kasi akong nagtatrabaho sa opisina na ito simula ng malipat ako galing library. Alam ko na ag pasikut-sikot at pamamalakad dito. At alam ko na rin kung sino ang pwedeng mabiro at hindi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gaya na lamang nitong si Ma’am Arguelles na nakatingin sa akin ngayon. Malaki ata ang galit niya sa akin simula ng matapunan ko siya ng tubig nung baguhan pa lang ako. Hindi ko man sinasadya, di niya na malilimutan yun. Dahil dun, lagi niya na pinagmamasdan ang mga ginagawa ko.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Aba naman at nagsisipag-sipagan ang iskolar. Nagpapa-impress kay dean? Hoy Anika, ayus-ayusin mo yang trabaho mo ha. Baka naman lumilipad na naman ang utak mo at kung saan mo lang maipatong yang mga papeles ni dean. Nakung babae ka!” Pasinghal na sabi sa akin ng bruha. Wala kasi si dean kaya malakas ang loob niyang sumigaw sa opisina. &lt;br /&gt;Takot din naman sa kanya ang mga kasama ko kaya wala kaming magagawa kundi tiisin siya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Sorry po, Ma’am A.,” sabi ko nalang kahit wala pa akong ginagawang kasalanan. Kinuha niya ang folder sa may drawer at umalis kaagad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nang matapos kong ayusin ang mesa, eksaktong dumating si dean na mukhang nagmamadali.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Anika, galing ba dito si Ma’am A.?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Opo, sir. Bakit po?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“May kinuha siyang folder sa drawer?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Opo.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Naku. Mali yung nadala niya. Eto palang kasi yung updated list na sinasabi ko eh. &lt;br /&gt;Pakidala naman ito sakanya tapos pakikuha yung luma. Salamat, iha.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Sige po, sir.” Kahit ayaw kong sundin si dean dahil alam ko na ang mangyayari, kelangan ko pa rin pumunta sa dakilang bruha. Tinignan ko ang schedule at room ni &lt;br /&gt;Ma’am A. sa corkboard at pinuntahan ito. Room 411. ECE Lab.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pagdating ko ECE Lab, halatang tahimik ang klase. Kilala kasing terror si Ma’am A. Sa klase niya, walang nangangahas magsalita, pwera na lang alam mo ang sasabihin mo at kaya mo itong panindigan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ma’am A., may tao po,” sabi ng isang estudyante habang nakasilip ako sa may pintuan. Lagot na naman ako nito.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Aba babae, kaya may bibig ang tao eh dapat ginagamit para magpasintabi. O kaya kumatok ka man lang sana. It’s wrong to eavesdrop in a class, Anika.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Sorry po, Ma’am A.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Sorry po Ma’am A. Whatever. Oh, ano kelangan mo?” Lumapit ako sakanya at inabot ko ang folder. Kinuha ko ang lumang folder na dala niya at uamalis kaagad. Di ko tinignan ang klase kasi alam ko na sila ang nakatingin sa akin. Nakakahiya.&lt;br /&gt;Pagdating ko sa office, bigla kong nakasalubong si Mark.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Uy, Anika, ang tagal mo naman. Eto na lunch mo oh.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh, asan si Keb? Di ba siya yung bibili at magdadala nito?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Eh, emergency daw eh. May pupuntahan, kaya ako na lang ang nagdala.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Teka, may meeting ka pa sa staff di ba? Baka ma-late ka niyan.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hindi na ako aattend. May aasikasunin pa rin kasi ako eh. Sige Anika, kain ka na. Gusto mo samahan kita?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh sige. Sandal lang ah. Papaalam muna ako kay dean.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kahit 15 minutes lang ang break time ko, ineextend yun ni dean kapag hindi pa ako nakakain ng lunch. Alam niya kasing hindi ako nakakapagtabaho ng maayos kapag gutom. Minsan pa nga’y nawalan ako ng malay ng wala sa oras. Ganito kabait sa akin si dean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Dahan-dahan lang ng subo kasi, Nika. Baka mabulunan ka niyan,” paalala ni Mark sa akin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Eh, naka-kahi-ya kay dean eh. Lag-pas nako ng --- 20 minutes. Ay, tubig!” At muntikan na ngaakong mabulunan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Sinabi na kasi eh. Eto oh.” Inabot ni Mark ang tubig ko sa bag. Pagkatapos ko kumain, bumalik na ako sa trabaho at nagpaalam kay Mark.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hey, Anika, gusto mo ba ng kasama mamaya sa field?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hindi na Mark, okay lang ako. Mas gusto ko mapag-isa. Tsaka, malayo pa ang Rizal. Ayoko namang tawagan ulit ni Tita Lani. Okay?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ah, okay. Sige.” At umalis na siya sa office. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5257453140924798834-309814859662503793?l=aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/feeds/309814859662503793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5257453140924798834&amp;postID=309814859662503793' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/309814859662503793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/309814859662503793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/2010/06/anika-part-2.html' title='Anika (Part 2)'/><author><name>Camille Anne Arcilla</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09580074624588960023</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Spwhxf7b3sE/SsWtfE2UnXI/AAAAAAAAAAs/19Ka6r3Op8U/S220/5974_1216781104129_1366894883_776658_7206100_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257453140924798834.post-8153748633569570430</id><published>2010-06-12T06:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-12T07:05:21.853-07:00</updated><title type='text'>In an hour, I was a god</title><content type='html'>Location: Gateway. Third floor. Araneta center.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A dad checking out on the latest mobile phones on the glass window with his son (technology blahs),&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A grandpa making his grandchild cry,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A boyfriend, waiting for his girlfriend outside the restroom,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A college barkada,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two girls chatting on the escalator,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A middle class family spending their day together. (Oh yes, family day),&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two kids enjoying their DQ blizzards,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A promo girl who gives out leaflets (but being ignored by bypassers),&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brothers eating popsicles,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fashionista trio wannabes,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A so called "jejemon",&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A married couple (it was evident),&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A girl clutching a red Blue Magic paper bag, wearing a frowning face,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An anorexic bitch,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A gay crossdresser,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then, there was me. &lt;br /&gt;Eyes wide open in search of stories. Stories that are actually kept in these people's minds. I was left with a good guessing game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By just standing in front of Smart wireless center, beside the restroom, you'll get to witness a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;What if I can read people's minds?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From this part of the world where I am standing right now, one's pair of eyes can behold almost everything. Everything beyond your gaze. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;What if I was God?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5257453140924798834-8153748633569570430?l=aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/feeds/8153748633569570430/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5257453140924798834&amp;postID=8153748633569570430' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/8153748633569570430'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/8153748633569570430'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/2010/06/in-hour-i-was-god.html' title='In an hour, I was a god'/><author><name>Camille Anne Arcilla</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09580074624588960023</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Spwhxf7b3sE/SsWtfE2UnXI/AAAAAAAAAAs/19Ka6r3Op8U/S220/5974_1216781104129_1366894883_776658_7206100_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257453140924798834.post-3333172968451737489</id><published>2010-05-24T05:03:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-24T05:12:24.262-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Anika (Part 1)</title><content type='html'>Ang sarap talaga sa pakiramdam na tumambay dito sa field. Yung tipong mag-isa ka lang, nilalasap mo yung sariwang hangin sa paligid mo, tila walang katapusang pag-iisip sa kung anu-ano at wala kang pakielam sa mga taong dumadaan sa harap mo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Siguro, dito muna ako. Wala pa namang curfew eh,” sabi ko sa sarili ko habang palingon-lingon na tinitignan ang paligid. Baka kasi may makakita sa akin na kakilala ko.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ako nga pala si Anika. Sa sobrang pangangarap ko, dito ako dinala sa Maynila. Sa awa ng Diyos, ika-apat na taon ko na sa kurso kong Arkitektura. At sa dalawa pang taon, magtatapos din ako.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Architect Anika Guillermo. Wow!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ayan, nananiginip na naman ulit ako. Tanaw ko lagi ang mga matataas na inprastraktura sa paligid ng UST. Sabi ko sa sarili ko, balang araw, ako naman ang gagawa ng mga yan. Ang tayog ko talaga mangarap. Buti na lang suportado ako ng mga magulang ko. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kahit di kinaya nila Mamang at Papang na pag-aralin ako dito, hindi pa rin nila nakakalimutan na bigyan ako ng baon buwan-buwan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Naalala ko ang sabi ng lolo ko. &lt;br /&gt;“Ano namang mapapala mo diyan sa pagdodrowing ng mga gusali, iha? Di bagay sayo yan! &lt;br /&gt;Mag-nursing ka na lang. Tiyak, may dolyar kagad. Ako na bahala magpa-aral sa iyo.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ngunit, sumuway pa rin ako. Matigas ulo ko eh. Mas pipiliin kong mahirapan ako kesa magtapos sa kursong di ko naman ginusto. Kaya heto, klase sa umaga, trabaho sa hapon hanggang gabi. Iskolar na maituturing sa pamantasang pinaglalagian ko ngayon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kung alam lang nila kung gaano ako naiinggit sa iba na di na kelangan magbanat ng buto para mag-aral. Pati mga subjects nila, binabagsak nila. Don’t worry, there’s summer class. Dad can always pay my tuition, sabi nila. &lt;br /&gt;Sarap sa pakiramdam ng mangarap. Ang lamig, ang presko. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Naku, lagot, malapit na mag-curfew!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Anika, i-print mo nga ‘tong pinapagawa ni Ma’am Tere mo. Tapos ilagay mo na rin sa desk niya. Baka magalit pa yun, lagot tayong dalawa.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Haha. Opo, sir.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si Dean Dimayuga ng Faculty of Engineering. Dito ako nagtatrabaho sakanya. Apat na oras sa isang araw. Bahala na ako kung kelan, basta mai-time in ko lang yung card ko sa schedule ko, solve na sakanya. Ayos talaga si dean, mabait at mahilig magpatawa. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kaya mahal siya ng mga estudyante niya eh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sa araw na ‘to, natapos ang klase ko ng maaga kaya nakakain pa ako ng pananghalian sa Noval. Tipikal na araw lang. Kinahapunan, trabaho na naman. Madalas, tinatakbo ko yung layo ng building namin hanggang sa Engineering building. Kahit mabait si dean, ayokong umaabuso sakanya. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Sir, okay na po yung kay Ma’am Tere. May papagawa pa po kayo?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yes, iha. May meeting kami mamayang alas singko. Paki-inform lahat ng professors. Eto yung letter at ipa-sign mo na lang sakanila. Okay?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Sige po.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Naku, alam ko na ibig sabihin nito. Overtime na naman ako. At imbes na alas kwatro ang labas ko, eh tiyak, mapapatagal pa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Binilisan ko na lang ang pagpunta sa bawat klase. Alas kwatro na ng marating ko ang ika-apat na palapag. At sa huling kwartong napuntahan ko, nalaman kong wala palang professor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Uhm, dito po ba yung klase ni Miss Malabanan?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Wala siya eh, di siya pumasok ngayon. Teka, di ba ikaw yung nasa dean’s office? Eh di dapat alam mo yun,” sabi ng isang matangkad na lalake habang tumitingin yung mga kaklase niya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hindi ko alam eh. Nakalagay naman dun sa attendance niya eh nag-report siya ngayon.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Eh baka nag-cut! Haha! Oh ate, sumbong mo na kay dean yan!” at di sila tumigil kakatawa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ah sige po, una nako.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Sige, see you around, ate.” At kinindatan ako ng bastos na lalake. Tawanan na naman sa loob ng klase. Dali-dali akong pumasok ng elevator.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sa wakas. Tapos na yung shift ko ngayong araw. Kinuha ko ang gamit ko at nagpaalam kay dean. Pagka-time out ko ay dumiretso na ako sa field. Mangangarap ulit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Naisipan ko mag-drowing ng gabing yun. Inilapag ko ang aking sketch pad sa may paanan ko at sinimulan kong galawin ang lapis ko. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hello ate, ano ‘yan?” sabi ng isang tinig galing sa likuran ko. Muntikan nakong mahulog sa kinauupan ko.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What the...?! Bakit ka andito? Nakakagulat ka naman!” Yung lalake pala kanina sa klase ni Miss Malabanan ang nanggulat sa akin. Mag-isa lang siya at naka-uniporme pa rin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Bakit, pag-aari mo na ba ang field ngayon, ha? Ate Dean’s Office?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hindi. At may pangalan ako. At tsaka, hindi tamang nanggugulat ka ng tao!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Talaga? Sorry na. Haha. Ano ba pangalan mo?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Bakit mo ba tinatanong? Hindi naman kita kilala eh. I don’t talk to strangers.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Kaya nga magpapakilala, suplada mo naman. Ako nga pala si Luke, Ate Dean’s Office.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Okay.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Okay lang?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Anika. Hindi ‘Ate Dean’s Office’, kuya.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Kuya? Haha. Luke na lang. Pwede ring Lucas para mas baduy. Haha.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nakakatawa. Pero natawa talaga ako dun. Lucas. Mukha naman siyang mabait. May itsura din naman pala siya. Mapagkakatiwalaan ko kaya ‘to?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Nakikita kasi kita palagi dito sa may field. Mukha ka ngang baliw eh, mag-isang nagsasalita. Sino ba kausap mo?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yung mga bituin.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Wow, adik ka nga. Haha.”&lt;br /&gt;Tumahimik na lang ako at tinuloy ang aking pag-drowing. Humingi siya ng paumanhin pero hindi na ako nagsalita. Tumahimik din siya at umupo sa kabilang dulo ng upuan ko. Ano namang problema nito? Pinabayaan ko na lang siya doon. Baka naman gusto niya rin tumambay dito sa field.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Alas diyes na pala. Makauwi na nga,” habang nililigpit ko ang aking mga gamit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Uuwi ka na, Ate Dean’s?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Anika nga kasi...”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Sorry, Anika, sabay na ako. Pwede? Saan ka dadaan?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Dapitan,” teka, seryoso ba ‘to? Eh hindi naman kami close nito ah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh tara,” at nauna siyang maglakad sakin. Ayos ‘to ah. Sabay daw eh nauuna siya. Tahimik kami sa buong paglalakad. At ng huminto ako sa may kanto namin, tinanong ko siya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Saan ka ba talaga nauwi?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Sa QC. Project 4.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Eh bakit dito ka dumaan? Wala namang sakayan ng papuntang QC dito sa Dapitan ah!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“May bibilhin lang ako sa Mini Stop. Oh saan ka ba? Hatid na kita.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hindi na, akaya ko mag-isa. Tsaka curfew na namin. Baka pagalitan pa ako kapag nagdala pa ako ng bisita,” at naglakad na ako papunta sa amin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pero paglingon ko, nakasunod pa rin siya. Ang kulit naman. Pinabayaan ko na lang. Aalis din yan pagpasok ko ng gate. At tama nga ang hinala ko. Pagpasok ko ay umalis na rin siya. Hindi na ako nagpaalam. Kunwari hindi ko alam na nakasunod siya sa akin kahit na nakita niya akong lumingon kanina.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5257453140924798834-3333172968451737489?l=aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/feeds/3333172968451737489/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5257453140924798834&amp;postID=3333172968451737489' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/3333172968451737489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/3333172968451737489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/2010/05/anika-part-1.html' title='Anika (Part 1)'/><author><name>Camille Anne Arcilla</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09580074624588960023</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Spwhxf7b3sE/SsWtfE2UnXI/AAAAAAAAAAs/19Ka6r3Op8U/S220/5974_1216781104129_1366894883_776658_7206100_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257453140924798834.post-3181102018033392246</id><published>2010-05-24T04:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-24T04:56:26.466-07:00</updated><title type='text'>From an Incoming Staffer</title><content type='html'>I had a wonderful summer. Seriously. The tarot cards haven't lied. The Varsitarian entering my life means a lot of change. Am I ready for it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought summer would be a complete total bummer for me. Guess I was wrong. For the past two months, I believe that this was the best summer I had. It was a life-changing decision to enter such thing. Right now, all I need is a tight grip on whatever decision and action I'll be making soon. So God, help me. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The attachment, the close ties, these helped me get through the challenge. Surprisingly, I was able to get close to the people I was first intimidated. My seniors, the outgoings, for some who were also my editors in other publications, it was a pleasure to be with you guys for almost two months. &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Sabi ko nga, kulang pa rin yung time&lt;/span&gt;. Regrets for my part that I wished I've tried out for V last year. Or at least you guys have stayed for another year if possible. &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Sayang, sobrang sayang. :|&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Kuya Prinz&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Sayang, ngayon lang tayo naging close.&lt;/span&gt; Haha. :))  I'll never forget the time when I took the special exams and I had this close encounter with you. &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Nung pinasa ko yung papel ko, ang sungit mong kinuha yun tsaka tinignan mo pa ng masama yung papel ko. Grabe, sabi ko sa sarili ko, "Walangyang bakla yun, nakakatakot." Hahaha!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, by the time we became close, (Thanks to Brylle. :D), &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;parang ikaw na yung halos nakakasama ko sa V palagi. Thank you so much for the endless tsismisan, okrayan, dramahan, tawanan, at pagsabay pag-uwi sa LRT. &lt;/span&gt;Sorry if I've failed to reply to your texts every night.&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt; Nauuna kasi akong makatulog eh. Hahaha!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Eto lang masasabi ko, Kuya Prinz: Ang mga lalake, marami sila. At dapat ang wallet, tinatago kapag andyan sila. Hahaha! &lt;/span&gt;I'm still hoping that soon enough you'll be okay with the people you're not in good terms with. Pride, that what eats a person alive. &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;So, kelangan natin bawasan yan ng konti minsan. Okay? :)&lt;/span&gt; I'm not saying that you have to do it NOW. Time will tell, &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;ika nga&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stay in touch. I'm just a text away. &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Sana hindi tayo busy lahat para makapag-bond pa tayo palagi.&lt;/span&gt; Good luck with Business World! &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Magkasama naman kayo ni Sir Ipe dun eh. :D Aabangan kita sa dyaryo ah. At aabangan ko pa rin yung time na sabay ulit tayong umuwi sa LRT. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Kuya Andrewly&lt;/span&gt;:&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt; Bitch ka, alam mo ba yun? Haha. Pero ikaw yung bitch na mahal ko. Naks!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For my Journalese editor in chief, I salute you. Sobra. I&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;kaw yung inspiration ko nung pumasok ako sa V. Sabi ko, kung nakaya mo, kakayanin ko rin. Ayaw kong mapahiya sayo eh. Hahaha.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Kahit inaaway mo ako palagi, na-appreciate ko yun. Sabi mo kasi, pag mahal mo ang tao, inaaway mo talaga.&lt;/span&gt; So that means, at least you care about me. &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Naks talaga. :) &lt;/span&gt;You are really like a Kuya to me. Thank you for all the concerns you had for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Di ko talaga makakalimutan yung nag-inuman sa Caylabne at nakita mo akong nakaupo na lang dun sa labas. Natatawa pa ako kasi hinatid mo ako nun sa kwarto namin. Kala ko kasi papagalitan mo ako eh. Hahaha. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Tapos kapag wala akong kasabay pauwi, sinsabayan mo din ako umuwi.&lt;/span&gt; And just this recently, I felt bad when I chose to sleep over at Kuya Robin's and let you go home alone.&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Nafe-feel ko pa rin yung guilt hanggang ngayon.&lt;/span&gt; I let you chose between us and God.Syempre, pipiliin mo si God. Haha. :) But still, I should've accompanied you in going home since I've already compromised. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Kuya Lee, sayang, kasi lagi akong tumatakas sa meeting ng Journalese.&lt;/span&gt; I mean, I wasn't able to come because I have to be at the library for my work hours. &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Sayang kasi, if I was there, nakilala pa sana kita lalo. Sayang din yung sa Yellow Cab, kahit andun yung friendemy (friend + enemy) kong photographer. Hahaha!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll always remember you as the guy who speaks, as everyone listens to him. &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Walang boring moment, puro sense. Maiinspire ka pa. :) pag may time ka ha, balik ka sa V. Kwentuhan ulit tayo. &lt;/span&gt;You can bully me as long as you want. You will still be my friend. Promise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"Hoy Camille Arcilla!" - favorite line ko yan. Di ko mami-miss yan. Sobrang miss lang. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Kuya Mark&lt;/span&gt;: I won't forget the night in Caylabne where you said, &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"Sayang, sana may ganito din sa Flame noh?"&lt;/span&gt; You are right. We weren't able to bond that much if it weren't for the Athena Cup and Varsi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Upon entering Varsi, &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;nung nalaman kong ikaw yung editor ng Pinoy, gusto ko sa section niyo ako mapunta.&lt;/span&gt; It was because of you. &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Kahit ilang editing marks pa makuha ko, okay lang. I already know how you edit articles. &lt;/span&gt;The first time you handled mine was when you were my News Editor in The Flame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Sana makaya namin nila Ate Rose-An yung sinabi mong wag namin pababayaan ang Flame.&lt;/span&gt;Thank you for believing in me. &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Medyo nagsi-sink in pa rin kasi yung sinabi mo sakin the other night.&lt;/span&gt; The promotion you gave me and when you said, &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"Ikaw yung pangalawa sa mga paborito ko sa incomings, next to Alya", ang hirap paniwalaan. Heaven eh. Hahaha.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"You are my only gay friend." - Brylle Tabora (Benta talaga 'to sakin. Sobra. Hahaha.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kuya Mark, the promise you've told me last night. After May 31, &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;kakalimutan mo na siya. Go! Kaya mo yan! Maraming gwapo sa workplace. Haha. Right?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For you and Ate Sarah, I will always be your Athena Cup baby. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Kuya Alpo&lt;/span&gt;: &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Bawasan ang rice belly! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, since Caleruega, you were the one who's been reaching out to us incomings. Thank you for that. &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Nalaman kong pareho tayo ng rants sa classroom. Haha. &lt;/span&gt;Thank you for sharing some photos of your life in your iPod the other night. And thank you also, for the nice conversation we had.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Kahit sinasakal mo ako tuwing darating ka sa office,&lt;/span&gt; you're presence means a lot. Stay in touch, Kuya Alpo. &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Kahit sa FB lang.&lt;/span&gt; I might be needing your help soon. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good luck on grad school! Hope someday we can tour around Metro Manila together. :) I know you could go places.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Ate Alena&lt;/span&gt;: Thank you so much for the Sci-tech moments. &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Pareho rin tayo ng problema sa buhay, yung pagiging single. Hahaha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Anyway, nasabi ko na ata to sa Facebook eh. Haha.&lt;/span&gt; I am so proud that you were my editor for the past two months.&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt; Kahit ganun kaigsi, &lt;/span&gt;at least, it gave me the reason why I should love the section I disliked at first. &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Di ko alam kung saan mo kinukuha yung confidence mo, pero naiinspire talaga ako sayo.&lt;/span&gt; I hope Ramon and I can do what you and Yen had done before. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good luck on Med school! And good luck to your lovelife, too. Haha. :)&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt; Wag na iiyak pag umiinom, ha? :D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To the other outgoings, I wish I had the chance to bond with you. I envy the incumbents for that. :|&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for the incumbents, prayers for all of us. Quadri batch, rings the bell of pressure for all of us. I mean, wow. &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Part nako ng Varsi, quadri-batch pa. Haha. &lt;/span&gt;It is still unbelievable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fellow incomings, as they say, friendships will be tested. I hope we can do it. It's too early to say, but at least we've been warned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marnee, Brylle, my two most loved colleagues. &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Para ko na kayong kapatid.&lt;/span&gt; I hope it stays that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, here I am right now. Wishing that I could go a long way. The coming years would be one tough balancing act. With academics on my head, Varsi and other orgs on my right hand, and my scholarship on my left hand. &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Mabuhay pa kaya ako? :(&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm a believer. And I don't give 'no' as an answer. Maybe I'll be setting aside my lovelife issues first (hahaha). It's time to get serious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*I'll be reading this post after years. Let's see what happens. Good luck to me. :|&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5257453140924798834-3181102018033392246?l=aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/feeds/3181102018033392246/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5257453140924798834&amp;postID=3181102018033392246' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/3181102018033392246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/3181102018033392246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/2010/05/from-incoming-staffer.html' title='From an Incoming Staffer'/><author><name>Camille Anne Arcilla</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09580074624588960023</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Spwhxf7b3sE/SsWtfE2UnXI/AAAAAAAAAAs/19Ka6r3Op8U/S220/5974_1216781104129_1366894883_776658_7206100_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257453140924798834.post-5122371589319762142</id><published>2009-11-19T22:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-19T23:13:56.992-08:00</updated><title type='text'>No is pollution.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;YOU ARE NOT LISTENING.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;QUIAPO! TAFT! ROTONDA! QUIAPO! QUIAPO!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YUNG ALE DI INABOT YUNG BAYAD NG BATA.&lt;br /&gt;TAGAKTAK NA PAWIS NI MANONG DRIVER.&lt;br /&gt;KALANSING NG NAHULOG NA PISO.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;ATE, PENGE PO NG BARYA.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;YOU ARE NOT LISTENING.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;IF EVER YOU'RE IN MY ARMS AGAIN...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BUKAS NG iPOD, SHUFFLE, REPEAT.&lt;br /&gt;SAKSAK NG SPEAKER,&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt; AY WAG NA LANG PALA.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BUNOT NG KABLE, &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;HEADPHONES NA LANG.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HIKBI. MALAKAS NA PAG-IYAK. &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;TAHAN NA.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;YOU ARE NOT LISTENING.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;UY MARE, ANONG TSIKA?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NABUNTIS SI NENE, KATORSE PA LANG SIYA.&lt;br /&gt;NANALO SI TATA JUAN SA JUETENG. POMPYANG.&lt;br /&gt;MAY PA-LIGA DAW SA BARANGAY SABI NI KAPITAN.&lt;br /&gt;MAKAALIS NA NGA, &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;BABALITAAN KO PA SI GLORIA.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;YOU ARE NOT LISTENING.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;DI PWEDE TAWAD. TAPAT NA PO.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SINGKWENTA NA LANG PERA KO.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;UMUWI KA NA&lt;/span&gt;, TEXT NI INA.&lt;br /&gt;YUNG INTSIK PINAPAGALITAN YUNG SALESLADY NIYA.&lt;br /&gt;DI KO MAINTINDIHAN. &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;ATE, TRENTA NA LANG.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;YOU ARE NOT LISTENING.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;THE PROBLEM WITH PEACE AND ORDER&lt;br /&gt;IS NO SURPRISE TO US.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YOU ARE NOT LISTENING.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;YOU ARE NOT LISTENING.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;IHA, YOU ARE NOT LISTENING.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TAYO SA UPUAN, BITAW NG BOLPEN.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;MA'AM, PARDON?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NAPAHIYA ATA AKO.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;SIT DOWN.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I AM NOT LISTENING.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;AM I NOT LISTENING?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KASALANAN NG UTAK KO.&lt;br /&gt;NAGLILIWALIW, BUMABIYAHE, LUMALAYO.&lt;br /&gt;AM I NOT LISTENING?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;OKAY LANG YAN, MAKINIG KA NA.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;YOU ARE NOT LISTENING,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt; KASI.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DI AKO INTERESADO.&lt;br /&gt;INGAY NILA, NARIRINDI NA'KO.&lt;br /&gt;YOU ARE NOT LISTENING.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;AKIN NA NGA, PERAM ULIT NG iPOD MO.&lt;br /&gt;ASAN DITO YUNG PABORITONG KANTA KO?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5257453140924798834-5122371589319762142?l=aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/feeds/5122371589319762142/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5257453140924798834&amp;postID=5122371589319762142' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/5122371589319762142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/5122371589319762142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/2009/11/no-is-pollution.html' title='No is pollution.'/><author><name>Camille Anne Arcilla</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09580074624588960023</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Spwhxf7b3sE/SsWtfE2UnXI/AAAAAAAAAAs/19Ka6r3Op8U/S220/5974_1216781104129_1366894883_776658_7206100_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257453140924798834.post-5612612879389837690</id><published>2009-11-19T22:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-19T22:50:52.400-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Heavily Caffeinated Splendor Mishap</title><content type='html'>Di ako mapakali.&lt;br /&gt;Alas dose y medya ng gabi.&lt;br /&gt;harap sa kaliwa, pikit ng mata, didilat, haharap sa kanan, &lt;br /&gt;pikit ng mata, didilat, tingin sa taas...&lt;br /&gt;...buntung-hininga.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Be realistic. Tama na.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ilang gabing gising.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Insomnia nga ba?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sabi sa balita, malapit na ang halalan.&lt;br /&gt;Tatakbo si ganito, tatakbo si ganyan.&lt;br /&gt;Isang taon na lang.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Life is a matter of choice.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Naghihintay. Maghihintay. Aasa.&lt;br /&gt;This is my choice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Do I have to wait?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Progreso. Pamimili. Progreso. Pamimili.&lt;br /&gt;Kahirapan. walang katapusang kahirapan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Paulit-ulit na lang. Nakakasawa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nabigo ako sa pag-ibig. Kelangan bang marinig ng buong bansa ang umiiyak na pintig ng puso?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Parallel policies sabi ng aking propesor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sa mundong ito, may saysay pa ba ang karapatang pagiging pantay-pantay?&lt;br /&gt;Mga linyang di nagtatagpo. Parallel. Hindi perpendicular. Klarado ba?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Hindi ako susuko. Hihintayin kita, promise.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alas tres na pala. Nakakatakot. Si bloody Mary? Ang halimaw sa ilalaim ng kama? Bampira o multo sa kabilang kwarto?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Mas nakakatakot ang multo ng nakaraan at halimaw ng lipunan.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lunes na naman pala bukas.&lt;br /&gt;Mali, ngayon na. Pasukan na naman pala.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alas kwatro y medya.&lt;br /&gt;Para na lang syesta. Hihimbing na lang ako.&lt;br /&gt;Baka sakaling makasama ko&lt;br /&gt;si Superman&lt;br /&gt;ang tagapagligtas ng mundo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Maaga pa ako bukas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Panibagong pag-aaliw sa sarili. Pakikipag-patintero kay tadhana.&lt;br /&gt;Magtext ka na, please?&lt;br /&gt;Alas singko pasado. Eto na talaga.&lt;br /&gt;Kalokohan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Are you done?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5257453140924798834-5612612879389837690?l=aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/feeds/5612612879389837690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5257453140924798834&amp;postID=5612612879389837690' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/5612612879389837690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/5612612879389837690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/2009/11/heavily-caffeinated-splendor-mishap.html' title='Heavily Caffeinated Splendor Mishap'/><author><name>Camille Anne Arcilla</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09580074624588960023</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Spwhxf7b3sE/SsWtfE2UnXI/AAAAAAAAAAs/19Ka6r3Op8U/S220/5974_1216781104129_1366894883_776658_7206100_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257453140924798834.post-4375823785859585765</id><published>2009-11-07T23:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-07T23:55:11.234-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bleeding Black and Yellow</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Spwhxf7b3sE/SvZzIF9NtWI/AAAAAAAAABo/GVsAXgpPavs/s1600-h/110320095245.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Spwhxf7b3sE/SvZzIF9NtWI/AAAAAAAAABo/GVsAXgpPavs/s320/110320095245.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401631385952564578" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shot with my camera phone during our enrolment. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How I love UST's main building. It tells me how I should be proud that I am, indeed, a Thomasian. (Even though I am a frustrated UP and Ateneo student.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aww. Welcome to second semester, Camii gurl. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5257453140924798834-4375823785859585765?l=aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/feeds/4375823785859585765/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5257453140924798834&amp;postID=4375823785859585765' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/4375823785859585765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/4375823785859585765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/2009/11/bleeding-black-and-yellow.html' title='Bleeding Black and Yellow'/><author><name>Camille Anne Arcilla</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09580074624588960023</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Spwhxf7b3sE/SsWtfE2UnXI/AAAAAAAAAAs/19Ka6r3Op8U/S220/5974_1216781104129_1366894883_776658_7206100_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Spwhxf7b3sE/SvZzIF9NtWI/AAAAAAAAABo/GVsAXgpPavs/s72-c/110320095245.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257453140924798834.post-444532932463940041</id><published>2009-10-03T20:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-03T20:28:11.169-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Desperate Princesses.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Spwhxf7b3sE/SsgVffOWLZI/AAAAAAAAABg/9se45f6NUvg/s1600-h/ErmhTrPG1qibbacvFNkYaCpGo1_500.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 158px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Spwhxf7b3sE/SsgVffOWLZI/AAAAAAAAABg/9se45f6NUvg/s320/ErmhTrPG1qibbacvFNkYaCpGo1_500.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388580584850599314" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grabbed from: http://saabmagalona.tumblr.com/post/203393860/hahaha&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can I say "Sobrang benta?" =))&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5257453140924798834-444532932463940041?l=aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/feeds/444532932463940041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5257453140924798834&amp;postID=444532932463940041' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/444532932463940041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/444532932463940041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/2009/10/desperate-princesses.html' title='Desperate Princesses.'/><author><name>Camille Anne Arcilla</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09580074624588960023</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Spwhxf7b3sE/SsWtfE2UnXI/AAAAAAAAAAs/19Ka6r3Op8U/S220/5974_1216781104129_1366894883_776658_7206100_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Spwhxf7b3sE/SsgVffOWLZI/AAAAAAAAABg/9se45f6NUvg/s72-c/ErmhTrPG1qibbacvFNkYaCpGo1_500.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257453140924798834.post-2005782189361694632</id><published>2009-10-03T19:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-03T19:28:04.332-07:00</updated><title type='text'>081209. Information Overload.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;EVERYTHING'S BLURRY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; I'M ALL STRESSED OUT. &lt;br /&gt;MY REVIEWER LOOKS LIKE ZIGZAG SMUDGED LINES WITH A TINGE OF PINK AND YELLOW. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;OH BRAIN, WORK WITH ME!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I'M ALL DRAINED UP, SOAK UP! &lt;br /&gt;THIS MACHINE IN MY HEAD IS NOT A SPONGE. &lt;br /&gt;THERE'S AN ERROR. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-----&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MALFUNCTION MY MEMORIES.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5257453140924798834-2005782189361694632?l=aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/feeds/2005782189361694632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5257453140924798834&amp;postID=2005782189361694632' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/2005782189361694632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/2005782189361694632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/2009/10/081209-information-overload.html' title='081209. Information Overload.'/><author><name>Camille Anne Arcilla</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09580074624588960023</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Spwhxf7b3sE/SsWtfE2UnXI/AAAAAAAAAAs/19Ka6r3Op8U/S220/5974_1216781104129_1366894883_776658_7206100_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257453140924798834.post-5950770301374719044</id><published>2009-10-03T19:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-03T19:22:35.208-07:00</updated><title type='text'>081109</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Australis,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;gaze from afar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Your my glow amidst&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;this&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;hasty&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;world.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5257453140924798834-5950770301374719044?l=aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/feeds/5950770301374719044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5257453140924798834&amp;postID=5950770301374719044' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/5950770301374719044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/5950770301374719044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/2009/10/081109.html' title='081109'/><author><name>Camille Anne Arcilla</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09580074624588960023</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Spwhxf7b3sE/SsWtfE2UnXI/AAAAAAAAAAs/19Ka6r3Op8U/S220/5974_1216781104129_1366894883_776658_7206100_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257453140924798834.post-2493763587299024656</id><published>2009-10-02T00:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-02T00:59:42.362-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh the Politikos!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Spwhxf7b3sE/SsWxOSxeojI/AAAAAAAAABY/71N2b_sfGzA/s1600-h/untitled.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 224px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Spwhxf7b3sE/SsWxOSxeojI/AAAAAAAAABY/71N2b_sfGzA/s320/untitled.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387907388334318130" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;REBLOGGED THIS FROM: http://saabmagalona.tumblr.com/page/2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"I got this from Twitter. My friend got it from her friend’s Facebook and the album was entitled “Do you want to see what Mikey Arroyo was doing during Ondoy?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was the best picture he/she could take.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a great politician we have. Tss."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesss indeed. Agreed. Great way of saying &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"Yes, I've helped the victims. *hik*"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well at least Gerald Anderson, Richard Guttierez, (and other celebrities) "acted" on the situation.&lt;br /&gt;True heroes saves the day not just on TV.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;LINK:&lt;br /&gt;http://saabmagalona.tumblr.com/post/198842383/gerald-anderson-helping-his-neighbors-3-of-3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please extend our prayers to those who are in need.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5257453140924798834-2493763587299024656?l=aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/feeds/2493763587299024656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5257453140924798834&amp;postID=2493763587299024656' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/2493763587299024656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/2493763587299024656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/2009/10/oh-politikos.html' title='Oh the Politikos!'/><author><name>Camille Anne Arcilla</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09580074624588960023</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Spwhxf7b3sE/SsWtfE2UnXI/AAAAAAAAAAs/19Ka6r3Op8U/S220/5974_1216781104129_1366894883_776658_7206100_n.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Spwhxf7b3sE/SsWxOSxeojI/AAAAAAAAABY/71N2b_sfGzA/s72-c/untitled.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257453140924798834.post-682253931014613281</id><published>2009-08-06T00:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-06T01:14:41.325-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Material Girl. Poker Face.</title><content type='html'>I wrote this wishlist a week ago. And I'm posting it here in Blogspot because I'm quite sure that there would just be a few persons who would get to read this, knows my site, and knows me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And it's because it's almost my birthday.&lt;/strong&gt; (&lt;em&gt;Tone in bitterness.)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The ultimate wish:&lt;/strong&gt; To have my Papa, Mama, and little brother L.A. here in Manila to spend my birthday with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...And I think that's quite not going to happen. :'(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Reasons:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom told me on a phone call that my birthday month is every typhoon's favorite "visit month". And since our island province is the favorite visited spot of typhoons, better not to take risk on travelling from there on the way here to Manila.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad made me pick. Or left me with no choice rather. He made me choose between eyeglasses or them. Of course, I chose them. The specks can wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Debut ko, wala kayo dito?!" &lt;/em&gt;It was so unfair. I understand my father's just concerned with my eyes. And I do know that we lack funds on additional expenses that's why he made me choose. &lt;em&gt;Ohmigaaaah. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;My birthday would not still be complete without them. Not this time, really. It's my 18th. How come nobody realizes that? &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So to lighten things up, I made my own wishlist (&lt;em&gt;with them on the number one top spot&lt;/em&gt;) .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cam's Birthday Wishlist Part 1 : The Possible&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;memory card MMC (2GB)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;new headset for my N70 &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;my hair rebonded or in curls (still thinking of a new hair style that would fit my chubby cheeks)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;a vintage shirt&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;shoes (black pairs with heels for school, rubbers for PE)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;P500 Globe load&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;a new shoulder bag&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"Para Kay B" by Ricky Lee or "Peksman: Nagsisinungaling Ako" by Eros Atalia books&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;edited pictorial framed picture of me or collage pictures&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;headbands of different sizes and shapes&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;a hoodie&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;one pack of Ricoa flat tops / chocolate ice cream /chocolate cake. Yum! :P My stomach's delight.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Cam's Birthday Wishlist Part 2 : The Impossible&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;(and indeed, shocking.)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;a LAPTOP!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;mp3 player (it can be of another brand other than iPod; 4GB would be enough)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;a formal cotillion debut WITHOUT an escort&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;SLR professional camera&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;to ba a part of: The Varsiatarian, Youngblood, Candy Council of Cool 2009&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;to own my own motorcycle and have a license&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Robi Domingo/Mikee Lee greets me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;to start my own online business. ONLINE SHOP!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;a PlayStation Portable&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;...and &lt;strong&gt;WORLD PEACE&lt;/strong&gt;. :)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;What I have right now? P300 till Saturday, for food, fare, and other school stuffs.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;In a matter of few minutes, I'm was in illusions. &lt;strong&gt;Oh it's so nice to be rich.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5257453140924798834-682253931014613281?l=aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/feeds/682253931014613281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5257453140924798834&amp;postID=682253931014613281' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/682253931014613281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/682253931014613281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/2009/08/material-girl-poker-face.html' title='Material Girl. Poker Face.'/><author><name>Camille Anne Arcilla</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09580074624588960023</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Spwhxf7b3sE/SsWtfE2UnXI/AAAAAAAAAAs/19Ka6r3Op8U/S220/5974_1216781104129_1366894883_776658_7206100_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257453140924798834.post-3311326711157528427</id><published>2009-07-31T19:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-31T23:56:03.930-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This Blog Account Hasn't Been Alive in Ages</title><content type='html'>So don't bother reading some of my posts here. Haha! :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The truth is, when I entered college and became a working scholar, I haven't got time for the usual blogging.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I saw this: &lt;a href="http://ralphsterblog.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://ralphsterblog.blogspot.com&lt;/a&gt; ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...and this: &lt;a href="http://ralphangelo23.wordpress.com/"&gt;http://ralphangelo23.wordpress.com/&lt;/a&gt; (This is my friend's blog.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...and made me realize that my Blogspot is &lt;em&gt;BULOK &lt;/em&gt;and &lt;em&gt;INAAMAG&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;na&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;(I'd rather use Filipino words in the description to make it more exaggerated.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The entirety of my site, I guess, is a bunch of flim-flams and nonsensical blahs. Argh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So starting right now, or maybe after our preliminaries, I'll try to live up this Blogspot of mine. (It's been jealous since I've started to have a Multiply which I never fail to update. &lt;em&gt;Sorry dear Blogpost&lt;/em&gt;.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to be honest, I can't maintain various accounts. It makes me go crazy.&lt;br /&gt;I have a:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Twitter - &lt;em&gt;poshcamiioh&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Multiply - &lt;a href="http://camanne.multiply.com/"&gt;http://camanne.multiply.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Friendster&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Facebook&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;and this one, Blogspot.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;I was inspired (really) in changing the world through blogs. Haha. Goodluck to me. :D&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5257453140924798834-3311326711157528427?l=aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/feeds/3311326711157528427/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5257453140924798834&amp;postID=3311326711157528427' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/3311326711157528427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/3311326711157528427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/2009/07/this-blog-account-hasnt-been-alive-in.html' title='This Blog Account Hasn&apos;t Been Alive in Ages'/><author><name>Camille Anne Arcilla</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09580074624588960023</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Spwhxf7b3sE/SsWtfE2UnXI/AAAAAAAAAAs/19Ka6r3Op8U/S220/5974_1216781104129_1366894883_776658_7206100_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257453140924798834.post-2838370570433737163</id><published>2009-01-28T18:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-28T18:17:56.466-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dream On</title><content type='html'>The surprise of all surprises I had I my entire life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            I entered the garden full of blue and we the roses. Candle-lit pavilion embedded with silver and bronze stones sparkle along with the lunar rays. He gazed at me and looked back, I was struck. Our eyes were locked with each other’s. Stunned and appalled, my heart was thumping fast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            &lt;em&gt;Swaying room as the music starts… strangers making the most of the dark…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            That song. The song I’ve always wanted to dance. That man. It was perfect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;           &lt;em&gt; I see you through the smokey air… can you feel the weight of my stare?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            He held my hand, we danced, we are in love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            Thought of it as unfair, he was in his best, clean, donning long sleeves in shades of rogue. And I was in my plain PE shirt and sweatpants. But for me, I was Cinderella. And the time was before midnight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            &lt;em&gt;You see I’m crazy for you… Touch me once and you’ll know its true…&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            He leans towards me. Our eyes entwined then he whispers…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “Please stay… forever.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            He squeezed my hand and I felt his breath in my face. He was about to kiss me…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            &lt;em&gt;I never wanted anyone like this… it’s all brand new… you’ll feel it in my kiss…&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            He was getting closer… and closer… and then…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;             &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;BUZZ!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            My alarm clock rang. Tsk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            “I’m crazy for you,” I sighed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5257453140924798834-2838370570433737163?l=aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/feeds/2838370570433737163/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5257453140924798834&amp;postID=2838370570433737163' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/2838370570433737163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/2838370570433737163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/2009/01/dream-on.html' title='Dream On'/><author><name>Camille Anne Arcilla</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09580074624588960023</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Spwhxf7b3sE/SsWtfE2UnXI/AAAAAAAAAAs/19Ka6r3Op8U/S220/5974_1216781104129_1366894883_776658_7206100_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257453140924798834.post-7774534989096326853</id><published>2008-10-17T16:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-18T17:36:17.529-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tagu-taguan, Maliwanag ang Buwan</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Ang alam ko, masaya ako.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Hindi ko namalayang madilim na. masyado kasi akong nawili sa pakikipagkwentuhan sa mga kaklase ko. Mag-aalas siyete nap ala ng gabi. At kahit tinatamad pakong umuwi, wala akong magagawa dahil sermon na naman ang sasalubong sa akin pagdating ko sa bahay. Hanep, daig ko pa ang nag-simba.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Ngayon ko lang napansin na wala yung paborito kong tinitignan sa langit, ang Venus. May nakapagsabi kasi sakin nay un daw yung pinkamakinang na bituin (planeta yun, pero sige na nga) sa langit ‘pag gabi.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Napatingin ako bigla sa aspaltong dinadaanan ko. Lubak pala ‘to. Ngayon ko lang napansin. Siguro nga masyado lang akong nawili kakatitig sa taas at kakahanap kay Venus nung kasabay ko pa siya pauwi.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Pero ngayon, mag-isa na lang ako. Iniwan niya na’ko.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;" align="center"&gt;*&lt;span style=""&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;*&lt;span style=""&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;*&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;" align="center"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;“Umuwi na kaya ako? Eh kaya lang wala pa siya, eh.”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Miyerkules ng hapon nu’n, oras ng uwian. Nagdadalawang isip ako kung sasabay na’ko sa mga kaklase ko o hihintayin ko pa si Mark.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;Si Mark. Siya yung taong kumukumpleto ng araw ko. Yung nagpapasaya sa’kin. Hindi ko siya boyfriend, pero parang ganun na rin. At siya ang taong painakamahal ko.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Hangos na hangos na dumating si Mark sa labas ng &lt;i style=""&gt;classroom&lt;/i&gt; namin. Halatang tumakbo para abutan ako.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;“Oh ano? &lt;st1:place&gt;Tara&lt;/st1:place&gt; na.”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Nagtaka naman ako. “Sa’n tayo punta?”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;“Wednesday ngayon ‘di ba? Sa simbahan. Simba tayo.” &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Unang date, sa simbahan?! Pero sige na nga. &lt;i style=""&gt;As if&lt;/i&gt; naman na may magagawa pa’ko. Laking gulat ko ng kinuha niya yung paper bag na dala kong may lamang mga libro. “Ako na,” sabi niya. &lt;st1:place&gt;Para&lt;/st1:place&gt; akong matutunaw sa pagkakataong iyon. Haaay.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Nang matatapos ang misa, inalok niya akong ihatid pauwi. Total naman, medyo madilim na rin naman at parho lang kami ng daan. &lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Sana&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; lang hindi pa matapos itong gabing ‘to.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Habang naglalakad palabas, bigla siyang may tinuro sa kalangitan at bumulong ng “Venus oh.”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;“Ha?”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;“Venus. Ayun oh. Yung pinakamakinang.” &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;“Asan?” Sabay tinuro niya ulit sa’kin.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;“Sa’n mo naman nalaman ‘yan?” Medyo tumatawa ako nung sinasabi ko yun.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;“Basta.”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Ang tipid niya talaga magsalita. Iniisip ko minsan kung napapanis na yung laway bito ni Mark o talagang ayaw niya lang akong kausap. Pero sa mga mata niya, alam kong mas marami pa siyang kayang sabihin. Ayaw niya lang ipaalam. Ewan ko kung bakit.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Magkagano’n pa man, basta’t nandiyan siya, masaya na’ko. Nararamdaman ko ko at alam kong mahal niya ako.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Sumakay na&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;kami ng tricycle. At dahil malamig, sumandal ako sakanya. Hindi naman siya tumanggi o umimik. Nabigla ako dahil hinawakan niya ang kamay ko hanggang sa pagbaba ko. Eto na siguro ang pinakamasayang sandali ng buhay ko.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;" align="center"&gt;*&lt;span style=""&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;*&lt;span style=""&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;*&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Monotxt;font-size:9;"  &gt;Ur&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Monotxt;font-size:9;"  &gt; free&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:9;"&gt;…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Monotxt;font-size:9;"  &gt; Go on &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:city&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Monotxt;font-size:9;"  &gt;ur&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Monotxt;font-size:9;"  &gt; way nd I’l go myn.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Halos ihagis ko na ang cellphone ko ng mabasa ko ang mga katagang ‘to. Aminado akong ako may kasalanan. At dahil dun, nawal na si Mark sa’kin. Tapos na kami. Tapos na ang kwento namin.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;Si Mark yung tipo ng tao na naninindigan sa salita niya lalo na’t alam niyan tama siya. Kung anong pinaniniwalaan niya, hindi mo na mababago yun. Isa dun ay ang hindi pagtiwala sa pagmamahal na binigay niya. Akala niya sapat na ang pagmamahal niya. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;st1:country-region&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;Mali&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt; pala daw siya.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;May isa kasi akong hinihingi sakanya eh. &lt;b style=""&gt;Commitment. &lt;/b&gt;Hindi niya mabigay yun dahil marami din siyang iba pang commitment. Sa school, sa pamilya at sa mga kaibigan niya. Parang mas importante daw yun at kelangan yun muna ang pagtuunan ng pansin…kesa sa’kin. Aray.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Halos magdadalawang taon na kaming ganito pero hindi pa rin kami opisyal na mag-girlfriend/boyfriend. At kung may tawag ‘dun, &lt;i style=""&gt;exclusively dating&lt;/i&gt; at &lt;i style=""&gt;mutual understanding&lt;/i&gt; ata.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Hindi rin kami naayos. Hanggang sa tuluyan na siyang nawala.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;" align="center"&gt;*&lt;span style=""&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;*&lt;span style=""&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;*&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;" align="center"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Patuloy pa rin ako sa paglalakad papunta sa paradahan ng tricycle. Titig sa taas, buntong hininga, sabay masid ulit sa aspaltong daan. Minsan nasabi niya sa‘kin sa text na &lt;span style="font-size:9;"&gt;“&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Monotxt;font-size:9;"  &gt;eventho wer far away nd Im not around, jas rmmber dat wer undr d seym sky.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:9;"&gt;”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:9;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Si Venus, wala siya. Hindi ko siya Makita. Baka napagod nang kuminang-kinang sa kalangitan. Nakakatawang isipin pero, tinataguan ata ako. Parang si Mark.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;Sadya kong binabagalan ang aking hakbang pauwi. Nagbabakasakaling makasabay ko pa siya…at sabay naming pagmamasdan si Venus sa taas.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5257453140924798834-7774534989096326853?l=aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/feeds/7774534989096326853/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5257453140924798834&amp;postID=7774534989096326853' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/7774534989096326853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/7774534989096326853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/2008/10/tagu-taguan-maliwanag-ang-buwan.html' title='Tagu-taguan, Maliwanag ang Buwan'/><author><name>Camille Anne Arcilla</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09580074624588960023</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Spwhxf7b3sE/SsWtfE2UnXI/AAAAAAAAAAs/19Ka6r3Op8U/S220/5974_1216781104129_1366894883_776658_7206100_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257453140924798834.post-2696489084773174977</id><published>2008-09-24T01:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-24T02:03:30.353-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Have a Break, Have a Knick-Knack</title><content type='html'>My body just got paralyzed. My brain malfunctioned minutes ago. Some mundane things just ran in my head. I rest myself on the bed, legs straight, eyes oon the ceiling, and a complete blank mind-set.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I hope it stays this way.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weeks ago, it came to my knowledge that we, woking scholars, are not benefitted of semestral breaks. It's because of this stupid contract signed effective until the end of the month of October. And damn, i want to scream WTF.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The gods must be crazy.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since the time i stepped college grounds, my everyday mantra haven't changed. Same scenes over and over agian. My biological clock wakes me up at 6 am, makes me hungry between 9:30 to twelve noon, and lulls me at 12 midnight or 1 in the dawn. A super repetition of my daily whatabouts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Every f*cking second counts. And a workless hour is a sweet reward.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those aren't aware, this is my college life:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MORNING-student utusan in the library&lt;br /&gt;AFTERNOON-estudyante&lt;br /&gt;EVENING/DAWN- monster. HAHA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spell exhausted plus nostalgia. I miss the island. My puberty pals, the high school bullies, puppy love dilemmas, timeless hours and a lot of crassness. It's like boom! Welcome to the real world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, by the way, meet my major exam pals, CoCo. Cobra and coffee. HAHA :D they try to wake me up from night to dawn. My friends in times of need.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm having a major breakdown. Give me a break. Tired. Whew, college.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5257453140924798834-2696489084773174977?l=aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/feeds/2696489084773174977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5257453140924798834&amp;postID=2696489084773174977' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/2696489084773174977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/2696489084773174977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/2008/09/have-break-have-knick-knack.html' title='Have a Break, Have a Knick-Knack'/><author><name>Camille Anne Arcilla</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09580074624588960023</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Spwhxf7b3sE/SsWtfE2UnXI/AAAAAAAAAAs/19Ka6r3Op8U/S220/5974_1216781104129_1366894883_776658_7206100_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257453140924798834.post-6447831889733353718</id><published>2008-08-07T21:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-09T20:51:22.301-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ffff;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#99ffff;"&gt;I live for&lt;/span&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;DREAMS.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ffff;"&gt;I die for&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;MEMOIRS&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;I hunger&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#33ccff;"&gt;for&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;SUCCESS&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#33ff33;"&gt;I pray for&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;LONGEVITY&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5257453140924798834-6447831889733353718?l=aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/feeds/6447831889733353718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5257453140924798834&amp;postID=6447831889733353718' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/6447831889733353718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/6447831889733353718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-live-for-dreams.html' title=''/><author><name>Camille Anne Arcilla</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09580074624588960023</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Spwhxf7b3sE/SsWtfE2UnXI/AAAAAAAAAAs/19Ka6r3Op8U/S220/5974_1216781104129_1366894883_776658_7206100_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257453140924798834.post-3507985430809339534</id><published>2008-08-07T20:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-07T20:55:28.550-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A very old blog post</title><content type='html'>I found my very old blogspot site in my classmate's links. I forgot it's password and email. silly me. HAHA :))&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has only one post. An article I've submitted in The Laboratorian (high school publication) way way back then. Just giving a shot HAHA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;LABORATORIAN BANDWAGON&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Want to organize a band? The band that plays for school activities and balls? Problem is, you don’t know how. That’s easy! Start strumming those basses and guitars and beat those drums for some tips in how to keep that music starting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, in organizing a school band, you have to have your members. Be it your classmate, batch mate, schoolmate or a student who excel in any instrument in hand. It depends on how you want your group to be. It may be an all-male group or all-female group or on a mixed gender-basis.The following members you need are:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The vocalist&lt;/em&gt;- she/he may be a chorale member or anyone who have a ‘band voice’. Don’t look for someone who have a high-pitched voice. You’re organizing a band, not an opera.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The guitarist&lt;/em&gt;- you may have two of these. They may be someone who have their past time strumming their acoustic guitar in the corridor, pergola or even in their room.The bassist- that someone who knows to play the bass guitar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The drummer&lt;/em&gt;- if he’s a DLC member, the better. If she’s a she, and knows how to get along with the tempo, that’s way too cool! Imagine, a girl beating those drums?! Astig!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The organ player&lt;/em&gt;- it’s optional. That someone may be the one who takes piano lessons every Saturdays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now you have your members (be sure you’d be one of those... hehe...), the next step is to discuss on what type of music you’d guys be playing. Rock, punk, heavy metal or whatever blows your mind that is. And of course, don’t forget…naming the band is a must! Here are some tips:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Name of your section&lt;/em&gt;- if your group consists of students in the same section. 3G for example stands for III-Gold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Food&lt;/em&gt;- in any way you want it. Examples are Sandwich, Mayonnaise, Sugarfree, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Name of the band members&lt;/em&gt;- sometimes, intitials will do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Others&lt;/em&gt;- as long as your band sounds cool, you do your options.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now you’re ready. Make sure you have a regular practice and of course, the instruments. Let your teachers supervise in every performance in any affair. And taa-daa! Welcome to the Laboratorian BANDwagon!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5257453140924798834-3507985430809339534?l=aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/feeds/3507985430809339534/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5257453140924798834&amp;postID=3507985430809339534' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/3507985430809339534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/3507985430809339534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/2008/08/very-old-blog-post.html' title='A very old blog post'/><author><name>Camille Anne Arcilla</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09580074624588960023</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Spwhxf7b3sE/SsWtfE2UnXI/AAAAAAAAAAs/19Ka6r3Op8U/S220/5974_1216781104129_1366894883_776658_7206100_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257453140924798834.post-110024675294362958</id><published>2008-08-07T20:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-07T20:34:38.461-07:00</updated><title type='text'>AN ISSUE ON A TISSUE</title><content type='html'>I still love him.&lt;br /&gt;Do I?&lt;br /&gt;Crap. NO.&lt;br /&gt;I'm a denial queen.&lt;br /&gt;He's not existing anymore.&lt;br /&gt;How could i love someone whom I can't even feel any presence at all?&lt;br /&gt;I have a boyfriend.&lt;br /&gt;Stop that.&lt;br /&gt;I have a boyfriend... but i don't love him.&lt;br /&gt;I miss him.&lt;br /&gt;Damn, it hurts.&lt;br /&gt;So near yet so far away.&lt;br /&gt;Now, he's a friend.&lt;br /&gt;No. A stranger.&lt;br /&gt;I want him back.&lt;br /&gt;He left me, he'll be leaving.&lt;br /&gt;I'll just stay here.&lt;br /&gt;...foolish.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5257453140924798834-110024675294362958?l=aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/feeds/110024675294362958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5257453140924798834&amp;postID=110024675294362958' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/110024675294362958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/110024675294362958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/2008/08/issue-on-tissue.html' title='AN ISSUE ON A TISSUE'/><author><name>Camille Anne Arcilla</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09580074624588960023</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Spwhxf7b3sE/SsWtfE2UnXI/AAAAAAAAAAs/19Ka6r3Op8U/S220/5974_1216781104129_1366894883_776658_7206100_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257453140924798834.post-2948852085577763106</id><published>2008-08-07T19:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-07T20:23:24.739-07:00</updated><title type='text'>HUNGRY</title><content type='html'>I scream for ice cream,&lt;br /&gt;Come melt with me,&lt;br /&gt;'Coz you're my chocolate sundae.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You tickle my tongue.&lt;br /&gt;You freeze me up.&lt;br /&gt;I'll sip you up my slurpee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really finger-lickin' good&lt;br /&gt;Make me crave for more&lt;br /&gt;My love, you're my cheese fries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I levitate, I fly&lt;br /&gt;Drink to that till the last drop&lt;br /&gt;You make me float, oh! Coke float!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're a mixture of everything I want&lt;br /&gt;Your sweetness, your taste&lt;br /&gt;You fill me up&lt;br /&gt;I'll gobble you up&lt;br /&gt;I'll empty you&lt;br /&gt;You're everything I digest for&lt;br /&gt;And makes my heart burp for more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5257453140924798834-2948852085577763106?l=aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/feeds/2948852085577763106/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5257453140924798834&amp;postID=2948852085577763106' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/2948852085577763106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/2948852085577763106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/2008/08/hungry.html' title='HUNGRY'/><author><name>Camille Anne Arcilla</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09580074624588960023</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Spwhxf7b3sE/SsWtfE2UnXI/AAAAAAAAAAs/19Ka6r3Op8U/S220/5974_1216781104129_1366894883_776658_7206100_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257453140924798834.post-1205003463759267519</id><published>2008-08-01T22:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-31T18:56:17.691-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fire Exit</title><content type='html'>I have a friend whose name I would not mention. She's with me the other day and admitted that she's recently into something: &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;SMOKING.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;"Isang stick lang naman araw-araw. Pero 'di ko 'to ginagawa sa loob ng campus."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was really shocked by her confession. And what made me more appalled was when she said, &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;"Madami akong crush sa (her University's name), mga magaganda."&lt;/span&gt; Then she smiles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Knowing her since high school, I'm facing the complete opposite of my friend. Back then she was the feminine, smarty and disciplined type of girl. But now, she just collapsed, I guess.&lt;br /&gt;I'm aware of her situation. She comes from a broken family. Her jobless father splitted up with her OFW mother. When she was in high school, she stayed with her father along with her sister she's not really close with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now, she transferred here in Manila. She gained her total freedom and independence. No father, no mother. Just her clueless grandmother as her guardian.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I've analyzed it, my friend is experiencing psychological problems. She turned her burden and faced it with seemingly unusual things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She smokes. Cigarette is her stress reliever. When she smokes, she gets satisfaction from it. As the way she sees it, a person becomes stronger, powerful, and more or less "in control" when they puff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's fond of girls. She likes girls because she's looking for that mother figure that lacks in her family and finds it on other girls. (Her mother's beautiful, that's why she crushes on beautiful girls.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thing is, this friend of mine has a boyfriend. But she doesn't really love this guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Boyfriend with benefits", as she says. She just experienced a bad relationship from her first and recent boyfriend which made her think that &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;"there's no such thing as love...it's only a game."&lt;/span&gt; And she plays it very well just to win.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of the people in my age range might be experiencing the same thing as hers. They find ways to ease the pain of their problems but actually, they're building up another one..and another one... until it doesn't solve anything at all. Or yet, it worsen it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they say, &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;"Huwag mong ayusin ang problema mo sa pamamagitan ng isa pang problema."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's like when your house's on fire, you resort to the fire exit instead of finding a way to stop the fire from burning the whole house and turning it into ashes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe, just maybe, their parents must've not oriented them well and pointed where the fire extinguisher is.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5257453140924798834-1205003463759267519?l=aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/feeds/1205003463759267519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5257453140924798834&amp;postID=1205003463759267519' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/1205003463759267519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/1205003463759267519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/2008/08/fire-exit.html' title='Fire Exit'/><author><name>Camille Anne Arcilla</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09580074624588960023</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Spwhxf7b3sE/SsWtfE2UnXI/AAAAAAAAAAs/19Ka6r3Op8U/S220/5974_1216781104129_1366894883_776658_7206100_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257453140924798834.post-238635969636279090</id><published>2008-07-05T23:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-18T22:08:24.445-07:00</updated><title type='text'>This is for you, Young Lad</title><content type='html'>I'm still thinking if I'm gonna pass this as a requirement in my application in the Thomasian Writer's Guild. But anyways...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Garamond;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Garamond;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Garamond;"&gt;DRUMBEATS OF INNOCENCE&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Garamond;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Garamond;"&gt;“Kami po ay mga Badjao.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hingi kami tulong.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Salamat po.”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Garamond;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Garamond;"&gt;A plea, written on a&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Crumpled envelope. He sats&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Down on the jeepney stair.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Garamond;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Garamond;"&gt;Accompanied by a tin can&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He chants. Taps&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With both hands.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Garamond;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Garamond;"&gt;Pale. Sullen eyes. He keeps&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On singing with own&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Native language.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Garamond;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Garamond;"&gt;His sound. A boy who conquers&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every ride just to be&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heard by anyone.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Garamond;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Garamond;"&gt;Honk. Thug. Broom. Chug.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peep! Thug. Peep!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Garamond;"&gt;Hopeful drumbeats amidst deafening noise.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Garamond;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Garamond;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Garamond;"&gt;He took the envelopes. Bowed&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Head in disappointment&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And goes down the jeepney.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Garamond;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Garamond;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Garamond;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Garamond;"&gt;He crosses the street&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And heads to nowhere…&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Garamond;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Garamond;"&gt;I’m glad I’m going home.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;(Alay ko sayo musmos na nakasabay ko sa jeep.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5257453140924798834-238635969636279090?l=aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/feeds/238635969636279090/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5257453140924798834&amp;postID=238635969636279090' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/238635969636279090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/238635969636279090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/2008/07/this-is-for-you-young-lad.html' title='This is for you, Young Lad'/><author><name>Camille Anne Arcilla</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09580074624588960023</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Spwhxf7b3sE/SsWtfE2UnXI/AAAAAAAAAAs/19Ka6r3Op8U/S220/5974_1216781104129_1366894883_776658_7206100_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257453140924798834.post-1888599039135978826</id><published>2008-07-04T06:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-04T06:42:37.924-07:00</updated><title type='text'>LRT station</title><content type='html'>Ako'y nagmasid-masid. Siksikan na naman. Sa sampung kataong nasa LRT, isa dito ang may earphones na nakasalampak sa tenga.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...at isa na ako sa isa sa sampung yun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hindi ko namalayang muntikan na akong lumagpas sa UN station dahil 'di  ko nadinig ang boses na dapat nagsabing "UN station, united nations" Bagama't dalawang linggo pa lang akongpatuloy na sumasakay ng tren, memoryado ko na ang nga istasyong dinadaanan ko. Pero bakit ganun. Lalagpas na sana ako.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sa saliw ng PASUBALI (spongecola), aking kinukubli na ako ay nagkamali. Iyon ay dahil sa hindi ko ito nadinig.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nasa jeep nako. At alam kong alas-otso na.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Wala pa nung myx, wala pa nung mtv...wala pa nung internet, wala pa nung iPod, o mp3..."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oo, dati wala pa nun. Kaya naririnig ang bawat tao. Walang nagkakamali. Walang sagabal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marahil ang gobyerno natin ay naka-iPod na rin...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kelangan muna magkasigawan bago magkarinigan. Walang kaayusan, halos pulos pagkakamali.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ang Pilipinas ay lumagpas na sa kanyang bababaang istasyon. Naligaw na...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Late na'ko. Kean kaya ako magbabago? Lagi na lang akong napag-iiwanan. Parang kakambal ko ang kaplaran ng ating bansa. Laging huli.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"...Pitong araw lang, hindi natikman ang liwanag..."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5257453140924798834-1888599039135978826?l=aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/feeds/1888599039135978826/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5257453140924798834&amp;postID=1888599039135978826' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/1888599039135978826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/1888599039135978826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/2008/07/lrt-station.html' title='LRT station'/><author><name>Camille Anne Arcilla</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09580074624588960023</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Spwhxf7b3sE/SsWtfE2UnXI/AAAAAAAAAAs/19Ka6r3Op8U/S220/5974_1216781104129_1366894883_776658_7206100_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5257453140924798834.post-5259686025099003471</id><published>2008-07-04T05:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-31T18:52:29.304-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Filipinos in Need of XL Belts</title><content type='html'>"Kung maliit ang kumot, matutong mamaluktot."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And there's more to that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the way home from UST, and entering the gates of FTI terminal, I've noticed a "blockbusterly-like" line which starts from the gate and ends to the NFA office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And this is what really bothered me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A young boy, at age five or six i think, carries a bag of two-kilo rice on the way home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recent rumors said that president GMA or his allies in the goverment made this issue SO large and public to cover Lozada's cry to ZTE. When the issue about NFA rice consumed all the time in evening and late night news, Engr. Lozada's cry became unheard and vanished amidst the rice crisis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This issue even made people, particularly those who are in the lower class, to panic-buy. The young boy, a mere evidence of the situation, was a victim. NFA was only allowing two-kilos of rice for every person. A strategy I've learned to some was to make all the members of your family line up, give each P40, and voila! RICE FOR EVERYONE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People now are forced to "tighten up their belts" because of low salary and high-priced neccesities. Unlike those who are in the hgih class who can afford to buy extra large belts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little monkey in the palace doesn't even seem to care. Maybe she eats enough or even a plate-full of rice everyday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And our hero? Where is Jun Lozada? Where's the people's cry and rallies here and there?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The old spirit spark begins to lose its light.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Worst is, maybe rumors had it that PGMA would be lucky end her term.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, care for some XL belts, anyone?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5257453140924798834-5259686025099003471?l=aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/feeds/5259686025099003471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5257453140924798834&amp;postID=5259686025099003471' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/5259686025099003471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5257453140924798834/posts/default/5259686025099003471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aridpensrotteninkblots.blogspot.com/2008/07/filipinos-in-need-of-xl-belts.html' title='Filipinos in Need of XL Belts'/><author><name>Camille Anne Arcilla</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09580074624588960023</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Spwhxf7b3sE/SsWtfE2UnXI/AAAAAAAAAAs/19Ka6r3Op8U/S220/5974_1216781104129_1366894883_776658_7206100_n.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
