Category Archives: academics

We all bark at the moon.

Insanity is the only logical explanation. And even that isn’t a justifiable reason why I act like a complete doofus-head in the past few weeks. Deadlines loom left and right, pressing things require undivided attention and at times, I feel like stepping out for lunch, board a one-way flight to the rainforests of Nepal and anonymously file a missing person registry on my behalf so people will be comfortably resolved of the fact that I am rapidly decomposing elsewhere and move on with the neat choreographies of their respective lives. I know it’s an immature, irresponsible way of putting things into perspective but I pledged madness upfront ergo I believe that it is the only validation I would ever need. Or maybe I’d simply argue my point with a fully loaded nuclear head. I don’t think so. Too much mess.

Weeks have passed and I haven’t had the clarity to write about things that are important, that genuinely matter. Procrastination has nothing to do with it. I have had difficulty finding the proper words to articulate the tremendously draining events and discoveries in the past few weeks. In moments like these, words would conveniently take a holiday, leaving me stumped, miserable, voiceless.

My mother didn’t get a cheap greeting card, not even a ten-second call from me on her birthday a couple of days ago. I feel awful. It’s like a culpable barnacle lodging my brains, multiplying rapidly, emitting paroxysms of guilt racking my nerves. I called her last night and a wisdom-laden, beatific voice assured me that it’s all right but I’d like to believe I’ll never inherit those pricey heirloom whatzits preserved by mothballs. Which is fine by me. Expect that I feel terrible. It’s like I just sat through Sister Mary Fatima’s catechism thesis on what will be in store for ill-behaved boys who murder millions of potential lives with a boner and a busy hand.

Two friends are equally miserable. One is anxious and ambivalent, facing a turnpike pegged with tough choices involving affections, finances, deceits, disloyalties. The other breathes a retrospective wistful ache of the same experience while braving an intangible affection that is stuck between stop lights of daily concerns and immediate burdens. Both are amazing people who, like everyone else, are fumbling through life, making use of whatever wisdom, knowledge or insight that will get them through the spaces between dawn and dusk.

Thinking about these things makes me feel the sublime intensity and truthfulness seamlessly captured in dog barking at the moon by Joan Miro. The painting struck me deeply when I first encountered it in Arts class and it still reverberates in my mind like a well erupting into a delirious song from the weight of a penny from a wisher’s hand.

A dog barking at the moon. Come to think of it. Generally, we all are.


Not The Brain!

I had the scare of my life when I found out that as men age, their brains shrink. (Noooo! Not the brain!) The article I have read, however, did not mention of any reason or cause for the aforesaid morsel of information and why, of all the sexes, it is singling out the men. I am not a believer of the proverbial saying “Life is unfair”, but my incredulity has just been dispelled.

I asked myself if it had something to do with the gradual decline of testosterone production over the remainder of man’s life. Or it could be the overindulgence of hand resulting to excessive release of semen. Ugh.

While I was in the middle of dissecting the probable reasons of this abject event, I suddenly felt my brain tightened, compacted and shrunk some more. “Oh God, this is so not fair” was all my flustered mind could squall.

Then something occurred to me.  I am not the only walking man with a shrunk brain on this planet. “Hey dude, can we go get some booze tonight? The shrinkage of my brain has accelerated. Maybe we can celebrate. How about you?”


Brrrrrt! That feels good!

And now, let us consider the art of farting and its trickiness. Yes, farting is indeed very tricky. It is the most surreptitious thing a person would do deliberately or not. Most people get rattled when they feel that there’s an air bubble percolating in their butts, especially when they’re with someone, or in a meeting, or in an enclosed quadrant. You suddenly feel the tightness in your whole body (not to mention the butt) and start to sense the air is sucking out of you. You fluster. Beads of sweat start to come out. Suddenly, you learn how to pray. You finally realize that this whole thing is a cunning game. And to win this game, you must simply figure out which approach to employ and then what to do after. Of course, you wouldn’t have to go through the whole ordeal when you’re alone or in your bedroom.

More often than not, fart comes in the most unexpected and awkward place and event. It catches you off-guard. I wonder why. Of course, the best (and probably, the only) way to handle it is to keep it to yourself and think of how to get to the door before it hits anyone. Then again, this one is very risky.

Strangely, it seems that fart is a whole separate entity. It will always have its shrewd way of sneaking back to its owner. There maybe a long list of techniques to avoid being found out, however, this requires sheer cleverness. Some people would promptly spray cologne into their bodies to shroud the bad odor. Some might bring in a new topic to talk about. While others would lift one butt cheek to provide the fart a clear path and slowly squeeze it out, hoping it wouldn’t have a musical accompaniment.

Farts can also lead to sorts of health problems – ulcers, gastroenteritis, and other gastrointestinal problems – if we intervene its emergence. So it is better to just let it all out; don’t fear being shunned or ostracized. Let it loose. Be proud! Some experts say it is even healthy to fart for you release air toxins out of your body. Just one tip, though. Do it with style and grace!


Too much Mathematics, eh?

Consummate geeks out there! How do you read the logo of Armani Exchange?

It’s A such that X. Go figure.

Armani Exchange


Dear graduates.

Poster’s Note: This speech should be delivered before a heap of graduating kindergarten students. Hey, the earlier we enlighten the kids about how vicious the cosmos could be, the better.

Hark, graduates! Lendeth me thy ears!

Yes, our kindergarten days may have already come to an end, but this is just the beginning of a very wonderful, and at the same time, rough journey ahead of us. As I glare upon your chipper faces, allow me to congratulate you for surviving the grueling years of reading classic poems and fictions, embracing Aesop and his fables(not to mention, the difficult task of figuring out Aesop’s actual birthplace), expanding your basic geographical knowledge and apprehending the intricate details of those colossal structures and sculptures by the Greeks. Indeed, we have undergone a very difficult odyssey. So what awaits a young optimistic kindergarten graduate such as yourself? A lot.

First, you’ll go to primary school. I know it sucks, but you need to. That would be another seven years of backbreaking algebra problems and puzzling grammar rules. Then you’ll go to secondary school. Again, more years devoted to the study of calculus, advanced trigonometry and advanced chemistry. But please, do not let your enthusiasm falter. There is always a bright side somewhere. A 10% increase in allowance would be very very nice. Later on, you’ll attend college. What for, you ask. Employers only hire people who have earned at least a bachelor’s degree. Then if you want to fatten out your paycheck, pursue a master’s degree.

Now you have a great career, you have fulfilled your dreams and you have created your own family. Sweet. Then later on, you’ll retire with a pension plan. Sweeter.

Of course, what I have mentioned is too simplistic and surreal. Not everyone will attend college, or perhaps, not everyone will retire with a pension plan. Now, let me describe you what the real world is.

Let’s face it. The real world out there is abundantly filled with overly smug jerks, assholes, despots, tyrants and the like who would relentlessly make you suffer and feel bad about yourself. Your good traits will be overlooked, while on the other hand, your negative attributes will always be taken into account.

The real world will continuously throw intractable gauntlets at you, until you get weary and give up. Yes, fellow graduates. We must face the real world with an undeniably formidable form.

In a nutshell, the real world is one bitchy planet. And it’s even becoming bitchier each day. The real world will do everything it could just to dismantle you. But fear not, dear graduates. All these will still depend on our own personal perspectives and choices in life. Choose your path very well. Your choice will be irreversible and warranted with cascades of dire consequences.

So there you have it, fellow graduates. It’s a whole different world out there. Blend in and conquer it like a true barbarian. Watch how the civilization will decline. And no, you’re not allowed to weep. Congratulations, batch (insert year here)! We did it! Well, almost.


Pedagogues

In a real world, teachers should get higher salaries than, say, baseball players. Apparently, that’s not the status quo. Baseball players receive jillions of bucks by merely scoring a home run, hitting the baseball whether bluntly or powerfully, or by just catching a ball. Now, I must note that playing baseball is not as easy as a walk in the park. It is rather a strenuous sport wherein a player must develop biceps in order to swing a bat. Sheer athleticism is also an issue here. In a nutshell, baseball is not designed for the fainthearted.

But I am not convinced by these facts. I am still sticking to my belief that teachers should be paid higher than Babe Ruth. Their efforts should be remunerated. After all, it is them who helped and molded the baseball players to become who they are today. They should get perquisites. Say, monthly subscription of Reader’s Digest, or maybe Time Magazine or something to that effect. Nike should act as sponsors for their uniforms in the interest of professionalism. Moreover, Donna Karan, known for her delicate and chic clothing designs, should create fashionable knitwears for our educators to promote lifestyle and aesthetic appreciation. All chalkboards must be ditched away. Whiteboards, on the other hand, should be used in lieu of this. Chalkdusts are deemed to be bad for one’s health, especially when they are inspired down. In order for teachers to arrive in school on time, Porsche should sign a contract ratifying their obligation for these educators, which is to give them away their latest car models.

These are just few of the bills that I will work out if ever I get elected for public office. Then again, I suddenly come alive.


Arising from hibernation

Much as I want to fume my rants and raves on the recent controversies that persistently haunt the Arroyo administration, I chose to remain silent and passive about it. You say it’s being indifferent and unsympathetic. Perhaps, it’s rather true. But I guess it’s more of being fed up and despondent. We have been in situations like this in the past, but we just never learned. Don’t get me wrong, though. I am fully supporting everyone’s fight against blatant corruption. But something just hinders me. And that is something to mull over tonight.

On a lighter note, I just want to inform you guys how happy I am these past days. Two weeks ago, I took the Advertising Qualifying Examination, along with other 100 aspirants. Before you can actually take up major subjects for advertising, you should first pass the qualifying exam administered by the department. It was a Model SAT Test with lots of items from English, Trigonometry and Profound Geometry.

I must admit, I got completely creamed in that test. On the day of the exam, I wasn’t able to eat my breakfast since I was hustling to reach the school on time. So my brain didn’t function quite well, especially on the Reading Comprehension part. I just used my skimming and scanning skills in answering that section. And because we were under time constraints, I wasn’t able to read the last three readings. That would mean 10 items in the comprehension part. So I had no choice but to just summon intelligent guesses in these items. I did that part very rapidly, which made me really uncertain of my standing. I need a grade that will admit me in the program.

Fortunately, after two weeks of waiting, I got in. So did everyone else that I know. And what’s more surprising, I was in the top five out of 100 who took the exam. Kringle, being the consummate geek that she is, garnered the top spot. I’m so proud of you, Kringle. I’m so proud of us. We can now formally call ourselves Economics and Advertising Management students.