History70 Assignment

Who says William Hung is the Father of all Delusionists? For those who are not in the know, let me break the real score; it’s not him. Although I hate to admit that he’s also an Asian and he hails from the land of baldheads who don orange gowns and has an Angelina Jolie as a sympathizer. People, meet Polpot, the greatest delusionist of all.

I can’t imagine anyone who is in his right mind to do the things he did with Cambodia. He’s such a nationalist that it already surpassed the extreme level and went to a delusional stage. Poor guy. Is that the effect of his funny name? Honestly, I admire his great strength and his vision for his country but that vision is something unattainable. Period. And the fact that he did not budge when everything started to fall into pieces is also commendable. But all the gore and violence that would put any Quentin Tarantino flick to shame is something I despised a lot. Hey, I’ve never been a fan of gory films. And after watching his biography, I feel so lucky that I’m not a Cambodian.

In the eastern part of Cambodia, from the land that gave US its undeniable shame in terms of warfare, comes a man worthy of being called; the Desperado aka Ho Chi Minh. He’s so desperate to liberate his country by hook or by crook, even at the cost of having communism. Top that, Rizal! Well, maybe, his means was less than stellar but we can’t deny that man’s love for country. And this time, it’s more or less normal.

Though the installment of communism raised brow’s all over, at least Vietnam got the freedom it longed to have- besides, communism is not entirely evil. In all depends on the handling of things. Criticism aside, who has a city under his name anyway?

Maya

I could not forget that day when someone came up to me and Maya and asked if we were best friends (-i recall I we were ib first year high school then, and we were in a noisy classroom). I guess being denied by someone you thought had mutual affection for you is just difficult to forget. "Dili oi, close friends lang mi" [Hindi ah, close friends lang kami] she said with seriousness, but of clear innocence that her words hit me right in the forehead --yet hurt my heart the most.
So, I had to live with it. She was my best friend, but I wasn’t hers.
After a year, we had a big fight –our first fight. It was when we had a group presentation at school, and she and my other classmates left me alone onstage when it was time for the teacher to ask questions. Because my crush was watching, I felt extra nervous and high strung. I blamed my group mates for everything (including, secretly, my embarrassment in front of my crush), forgetting that I really should’ve prepared for the questioning, since I was the group leader.
I was mad at all my group mates, but my fury over Maya was especially intense, though I didn’t know exactly why. I could only guess that it was my jealousy over her own best friend and my frustrations that went with it, taking toll, for I have hidden it well over time. Maybe I wasn’t really mad at her for leaving me alone up there, unable to respond to the teacher. Maybe I just found it as a chance to finally get mad at her, for a valid reason --A valid reason, unlike jealousy.

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beeEp...beeEp! it goes,
then A smile on my face;
a renewal of energy.
Though ironically
another emotional maze;
more jovial days
though to him this meant little,
maybe nothing at all.

But it goes on...

cardiac muscle ecstatic;
next, an overflowing chill
and then he would appear
as my thoughts absorb me.
His hair, those sarcastic eyebrows;
i'm loosing consciousness now
of all else around;
chinito eyes that are serious,
i seem reduced;
piercing fierce glare,
I'm melting by a stare.
His facial contours;
that rugged, cool walk,
no need for talk;
He's...
so...
sigh..!
keeps me high.

And then I wake up.
Daydream's over,
because the others--
they're already staring.
What a waste of time.
...If only you were mine.
Stupid daydream!

"mara, clara"

the other night, i skipped dinner, and so woke up really hungry the next morning. it was because i had to do the homework of my landlady's kid. a few weeks ago, i found my rice cooker on the fritz, and was really dissaponted because i myself barely got to use it. my landlady's mother had worn it out! still, a few months ago, i found my non-stick frying pan, which i loved so much, in an awful state of rusting. it was completely useless, and had to go with the trash. i just can'nt believe this. i've been living in that boarding house for a year now, and the people there have been abusing me since.
here's more. my land lady, named tetet, has been borrowing money from me like i had lots of it. i'm willing to help her, and lend cash, but i only think it's unfair that she never seems to remember paying me back. i'd always have to remind her --which i did-- and still get my money back only after a couple more weeks. her mother, named tessie, whose personality you wouldn't say agreeable, always buzzed around the boarding house like she owned it. once, i went home to sulan kudarat for the semestral break. when i got back, my electric fan was missing, and later the maid told me that tessie took it o her house in sandawa. i'm still angered by the memory of it, though i got my fan back in room now. and what makes me most anxious, is that they have benefited from me and my stuff --ofen wihout my consent-- and still they spoke ill of me behind my back. they've been telling the maid (and God knows whoelse) that i was selfish, and was abusive. in pure honesty, they were kind of describing thmselves!
this is totally unfair. it kind of reminds me of that soap "Mara, Clara" that juddy anne "juday" santos did. oh, how i hated the villiany of clara, who never seemd to get enough of seeing Mara suffer. and how i hated Mara too, for just whimpering around whenever clara did her wrong. so unbelievable how patient and forgiving mara was, it annoyed me.
sometimes, i just couldn't contain my rage when i'm reminded of tessie and tetet's partership in crime, and having me for a victim. but a lot of times, i blame myself too. i know that they are the kontrabidas (villians) of ruthless evil in my telesrye-like life in the boarding house. but i have also been the weak and ever passive Mara. which tells me, that it was part my fault why i have been abused to this extent. maybe they wouldn't have gone that far if i had been strong enough to resist their requests they've professionally disguised with friendliness. as much as i disliked the unrealisticly "good character" played by juday, i will get up on my knees, and defend my rights. i should let it be known to them tat i'm no sissy, and that i'm not ready to get my dignity stepped on.
though she had been spineless in the beginning, mara got to her senses in the end part of te story, and she finall fought back. i remember that episode i loved so much, that when mara spewed sraight to clara's face wet laundry. the villian's face ended up soaked and soapy. though it didn't totally stop her from being evil, at least it told her to back off a little. I guess i'm gonna do that to. But of course not literally! (It's really tempting, though.)

Sunny?

In a land, according to Jehna Paigan, of endless fiestas and falling papayas a new kind of festival has unfortunately fell in the restless lives of modern teenagers causing them behavioral changes grown-ups couldn’t quite comprehend. It aint one of those street-dancing, colorful costumes leading to pick-pocketing scenarios (because those rock- if you don’t lose your phone, that is) . This festival was six weeks loooong, brings you back to school, and forcefully makes everyone feel as if it were a normal semester; scratch that, abnormal semester where everything is done is done in a jiffy. Everyone, I’d like to introduce, the students’ most hated festival: SUCKFEST!: summer of ’06.
Had I known that going to college would mean losing my summer slothing privileges, I shouldn’t have gone to school at all. Kidding. That’s a bit of an exaggeration but trust me, all average teenagers could empathize. Anyone who objects, will suffer from a life of misery and abstinence.
As far as I can remember, summer for me meant no school, no teachers, and no homeworks and is synonymous to “going somewhere else” or even just my ever fave hobby: “slothing around”. It is supposed to be fun. It’s supposed to be like a sun-shiny, laid back summer flick movie kind of thing- NOT dreadfully whimpy and tearjerker, wanna-be-an-Oscar winner kind of fiasco. It should be about the sun, the heat, he fun, the halo-halo, the shedding off of clothes, the sex (Ok, that’s too much) and no the hurricane of gazillions of anatomical terms and mathematical graphs I couldn’t ’care less about.
After almost 3 months since the last official summer heat graced these islands, I find myself having a craving- NO, more like an obsession of summer. If there are any chances of wearing flip-flops, I grab the oppurtunity. Too bad school requires closed black leather shoes. The indignity of it all! I sunbathe almost every weekend eventhough I have this weird feeling the weather isn’t always on my side because everytime I’m surrendering my body to the sun, clouds always hang over me. Such a green-eyed monster! And, well, I got this, more like raided, our store last weekend for some summer get-ups. I thought those were the coolest no until that tie-dyed shirt ended up dying everything. Spoiler!
Anyway, aside from my eternal Alanis Morisette worship, I’m thinking of starting a cult brotherhood called Soliantu: sacred allegiance of the sun and fire. Yo, I think I’m going nuts. Where the hell is my sun?

Poem: no title yet

Hello, since this blog has become dormant, I hope this wakes it up a bit...this time i'm not whining...lol...i dedicate this to my travel shows...

I find myself in an ethereal land
At where Europa’s mighty bull ride’s end
Afoot the Mediterranean sand;
Up to the peak of Jungfrau, I ascend

With the maiden as my towering post
From afar, I can see Thera’s twilight
Beholding early night’s beauty utmost
Just in time for Norway’s sun at midnight

While the sun never set nor rise, it did;
Scorching my unfeigned abode when I wake
For night to come, I relentlessly bid
The dim enigma, I shall gaze for my sake

Though I am under the Pilgrim’s sky
Looking at Taygete, I still fly

--Farleigh Driscoll