"Okay. I found my constant now. Yes, I get you, I get you. No wonder you're drifting off into space."
"I like drifting into space at times. It makes me feel weightless. Now this doesn't make sense."
"You're implying mindless euphoria, and I totally get you."
Read more »
2/27/2010
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2/21/2010
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My wallet isn't exactly a mess. Barring, of course, the many ATM withdrawal slips that populate the main pocket (and, if you're willing to know, get thrown out every time I get my salary) there isn't much to look at. There are business cards from people I don't even know. There are the usual IDs: my driver's license, my excuse for a company ID. There are two handwritten notes I'm keeping for posterity, but that's for another blog entry. And then there are two photographs. Just two: one's an ID picture of myself, placed on my wallet since it's got nowhere to go. The other one's an old family photo.
It's not really something to be ashamed about, but at one point, I felt it is.
College friends, of course, look through people's wallets, looking at photographs from high school and, as time passed, college itself. (Or was it my cousins? I might have them mixed up, but I'm sure the more mainstream, or comfortable, of people did exactly that.) I've been through that said. I can't remember whose photos I was going through, probably because I didn't really know who were in the photos I was looking at. The last I can say: she's a girl, and those were her high school friends. Studio photos were, of course, all the rage back then.
Read more »
It's not really something to be ashamed about, but at one point, I felt it is.
College friends, of course, look through people's wallets, looking at photographs from high school and, as time passed, college itself. (Or was it my cousins? I might have them mixed up, but I'm sure the more mainstream, or comfortable, of people did exactly that.) I've been through that said. I can't remember whose photos I was going through, probably because I didn't really know who were in the photos I was looking at. The last I can say: she's a girl, and those were her high school friends. Studio photos were, of course, all the rage back then.
Read more »
2/16/2010
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Seven.
Just a seven. Which I don't really mind.
And there's a reason why I didn't ask about that seven. I mean, she was asking me. "Any questions? Any violent reactions?" And I didn't.
Read more »
Just a seven. Which I don't really mind.
And there's a reason why I didn't ask about that seven. I mean, she was asking me. "Any questions? Any violent reactions?" And I didn't.
Read more »
2/13/2010
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For some odd reason, I ended up not writing a blog entry about my meet-up with Malia in Singapore. The bottom line was, she was having a hard time cracking the (boring government-controlled monopoly that is the) media industry there, and she decided to go back to the Philippines and surprise her closest friends here. I would've written an entry on that surprise, but my mood swings kicked in.
Read more »
2/12/2010
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In a thrice-weekly, hour-long class, you are considered late if you arrive within twenty minutes after class starts. If you arrive later than that, you are considered absent. In a twice-weekly class, which is half an hour longer, you're late if you arrive within thirty minutes after class starts. Later, you're absent.
It was essential knowledge to anybody who ever studied in La Salle. Not everybody followed it - the professors sometimes had different sets of rules, from grace periods to sheer ruthlessness - but it was still a basic rule we all had to keep in mind. Well, at least until the four-day class week came into effect, after which the first half of the rule became moot.
Being a relatively good student, I tried my best not to be late to class. I was late a few times, the first being in an early morning class, where heavy traffic got the best of the bus I was in. But there was this one time when I arrived on campus thirty minutes after my first class started, making me technically absent. I took a different bus, and got slowly frustrated at how slow the driver was going, never mind traffic actually being light. To make things worse, it was international studies class, a subject that I totally loved and didn't want to miss.
Read more »
It was essential knowledge to anybody who ever studied in La Salle. Not everybody followed it - the professors sometimes had different sets of rules, from grace periods to sheer ruthlessness - but it was still a basic rule we all had to keep in mind. Well, at least until the four-day class week came into effect, after which the first half of the rule became moot.
Being a relatively good student, I tried my best not to be late to class. I was late a few times, the first being in an early morning class, where heavy traffic got the best of the bus I was in. But there was this one time when I arrived on campus thirty minutes after my first class started, making me technically absent. I took a different bus, and got slowly frustrated at how slow the driver was going, never mind traffic actually being light. To make things worse, it was international studies class, a subject that I totally loved and didn't want to miss.
Read more »
2/10/2010
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The plan was to have dinner tomorrow night, somewhere at the Shangri-la Plaza. Jackie, who was organizing the affair before she returns to Taiwan later this month, figured it would be close to where I work.
"Si Jill din, taga-Ortigas, di ba?" she asked me a week back.
Yes, I answered, remembering when a bunch of power outages affected the area and we were both forced to go home early. Oddly, I completely forgot about Clarence, who was working on the same street as me. She's just right there, and I forgot her.
Read more »
"Si Jill din, taga-Ortigas, di ba?" she asked me a week back.
Yes, I answered, remembering when a bunch of power outages affected the area and we were both forced to go home early. Oddly, I completely forgot about Clarence, who was working on the same street as me. She's just right there, and I forgot her.
Read more »
2/07/2010
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If I can sum up my life in a keyword, it would be this: non-existent.
Of course, that means nobody would be able to find me. Does anyone actually type in "non-existent" on Google? If it was non-existent in the first place then nobody would waste their time searching for it, unless said person has this strong feeling in the gut that it's somewhere.
Some people do have that strong feeling in the gut, but others just rely with what they see.
And no, this is not one of those blog entries where I complain about being out of everybody's radars.
Read more »
Of course, that means nobody would be able to find me. Does anyone actually type in "non-existent" on Google? If it was non-existent in the first place then nobody would waste their time searching for it, unless said person has this strong feeling in the gut that it's somewhere.
Some people do have that strong feeling in the gut, but others just rely with what they see.
And no, this is not one of those blog entries where I complain about being out of everybody's radars.
Read more »
2/05/2010
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Yep, it was almost five years ago when this happened. I met up with Robyn in this covered atrium of sorts, with a lot of sign-up booths on the side. "Let's go together," she said, before realizing that we were in different sections, and thus we wouldn't go through the next two days together.
I think I was first in line on my sign-up booth. "What's your nickname?" the girl manning it said.
"Niko," I answered. "With a K, not a C."
The girl gave me a name tag, with my name written on it. Thankfully it was spelled correctly.
Read more »
I think I was first in line on my sign-up booth. "What's your nickname?" the girl manning it said.
"Niko," I answered. "With a K, not a C."
The girl gave me a name tag, with my name written on it. Thankfully it was spelled correctly.
Read more »
2/04/2010
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If all else fails, act as if nothing happened. Catch is, you still wrecked that vase, your mother will notice something's missing in the living room, and you will start panicking when she asks questions. The truth will come out, and you'll get two long bruises in your buttocks, thanks to sheer force and a pretty large block of wood.
In other words, there is no use hiding what you feel.
The point, of course, is time. It's been, what, sixteen months since the biters? Samantha and I don't even talk that much anymore, and we haven't been at each others' necks. When we talk, it's not about "slim" nor "shady", but more about how she's living up to an old, unsuspecting three-year-old nickname. Sixteen months ago they were the boone of my existence. Sixteen months later, uhh, who are they?
Read more »
In other words, there is no use hiding what you feel.
The point, of course, is time. It's been, what, sixteen months since the biters? Samantha and I don't even talk that much anymore, and we haven't been at each others' necks. When we talk, it's not about "slim" nor "shady", but more about how she's living up to an old, unsuspecting three-year-old nickname. Sixteen months ago they were the boone of my existence. Sixteen months later, uhh, who are they?
Read more »
2/01/2010
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"I think... savior mo ako. O kaya... tulay. O kaya... way."
I honestly didn't understand what Piyar was prattling about. This was a few days after my blog entry about successful people, and since I mentioned her, it was pretty convenient to think that this was someone referring me to a job opening. Not a bad excuse, considering what she said after.
"May show ako ngayon. Dating game. Gusto mo?"
Read more »
I honestly didn't understand what Piyar was prattling about. This was a few days after my blog entry about successful people, and since I mentioned her, it was pretty convenient to think that this was someone referring me to a job opening. Not a bad excuse, considering what she said after.
"May show ako ngayon. Dating game. Gusto mo?"
Read more »
Niko Batallones writes The Upper Blog.
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Some photographs have been edited using post-production curves from Shalla Yu.
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