Monday, 8 January 2007

a BaLLad
Mood:  irritated

 lovelovelovelovelovelovelovelovelovelovelovelovelovelovelovelovelove

IS A

fallacyfallacyfallacyfallacyfallacyfallacyfallacyfallacyfallacyfallacyfallacyfallacy

Cool was I and logical. Keen, calculating, perspicacious, acute --- I was all of these. My brain was as powerful as a dynamo, precise as a chemist's scales, as penetrating as a scalpel. And - think of it! - I was only eighteen.

It is not often that one so young has such a giant intellect. Take, for example, Petey Burch, my roommate at the University of Minnesota. Same age, same background, but dumb as an ox. A nice enough fellow, you understand, but nothing upstairs. Emotional type. Unstable. Impressionable. Worst of all, a faddist. Fads, I submit, are the very negation of reason. To be swept up in every new craze that comes along, to surrender oneself to idiocy just because everybody else is doing it - this to me, is the acme of mindlessness. Not, however, to Petey.

One afternoon I found Petey lying on his bed with an expression of such distress on his face that I immediately diagnosed appendicitis. "Don't move," I said, "Don't take a laxative. I'll get a doctor."

"Raccoon," he mumbled thickly.

"Raccoon?" I said, pausing in my flight.

"I want a raccon coat," he wailed.

I perceived that his trouble was not physical but mental. "Why do you want a raccoon coat?"

"I should have known it," he cried, pounding his temples.

"I should have known it they'd come back when the Charleston came back. Like a fool I spent all my money for textbook, and now I can't get a raccoon coat."

"Can you mean," I said incredulously," that people are actually wearing raccoon coats again?"

"All the Big Men on Campus are wearing them. Where've you been?"

"In the library," I said, naming a place not frequented by Big Men on Campus.

He leaped from the bed and paced the room. "I've got to have a raccoon coat," he said passionately. "I've got to!"

"Petey, why? Look at it rationally. Raccoon coats are unsanitary. They shed. They smell bad. They weigh too much. They're unsightly. They..."

"You don't understand," he interrupted, impatiently. "It's the thing to do. Don't you want to be in the swim?"

"No," I said truthfully.

"Well, I do," he declared. "I'd give anything for a raccoon coat. Anything!"

My brain, that precision instrument, slipped into high gear. "Anything?" I asked, looking at him narrowly.

"Anything," he affirmed in ringing tones.

I stroked my chin thoughtfully. It so happened that I knew where to get my hands on a raccoon coat. My father had had one in his undergraduate days; it lay now in a trunk in the attic back home. It also happened that Petey had something I wanted. He didn't have it exactly, but at least he had first rights on it. I refer to his girl, Polly Espy.

I had long coveted Polly Espy. Let me emphasize that my desire for this young woman was not emotional in nature. She was, to be sure, a girl who excited the emotions, but I was not one to let my heart rule my head. I wanted Polly For a shrewdly calculated, entirely cerebral reason.

I was a freshman in law school. In a few years I would be out in practice. I was well aware of the importance of the right kind of wife in furthering a lawyer's career. The successful lawyers I had observed were, almost without exception, married to beautiful, gracious, intelligent women. With one omission, Polly fitted these specifications perfectly.

Beautiful she was. She was not yet of pin-up proportions, but I felt that time would supply the lack. She already had the makings.

Gracious she was. By gracious I mean full of graces. She had an erectness of carriage, an ease of bearing, a poise that clearly indicated the best of breeding. At table her manners were exquisite. I had seen her at the Kozy Kampus Korner eating the specialty of the house - a sandwich that contained scraps of pot roast, gravy, chopped nuts, and a dipper of sauerkraut - without even getting her fingers moist.

Intelligent she was not. In fact, she veered in the opposite direction. But I believed that under my guidance she would smarten up. At any rate, it was worth a try. It is, after all, easier to make a beautiful dumb girl smart than to make an ugly smart girl beautiful.

"Petey," I said, "are you in love with Polly Espy?"

"I think she's a keen kid," he replied, "but I don't know if you call it love. Why?"

"Do you," I asked, "have any kind of formal arrangement with her? I mean are you going steady or anything like that?"

"No. We see each other quite a bit, but we both have other dates. Why?"

"Is there," I asked, "any other man for whom she has a particular fondness?"

"Not that I know of. Why?"

I nodded with satisfaction. "In other words, if you were out of the picture, the field would be open. Is that right?"

"I guess so. What are you getting at?"

"Nothing , nothing," I said innocently, and took my suitcase out the closet.

"Where are you going?" asked Petey.

"Home for weekend." I threw a few things into the bag.

"Listen," he said, clutching my arm eagerly, "while you're home, you couldn't get some money from your old man, could you, and lend it to me so I can buy a raccoon coat?"

"I may do better than that," I said with a mysterious wink and closed my bag and left.

. . .

"Look," I said to Petey when I got back Monday morning. I threw open the suitcase and revealed the huge, hairy, gamy object that my father had worn in his Stutz Bearcat in 1925.

"Holy Toledo!" said Petey reverently. He plunged his hands into the raccoon coat and then his face. "Holy Toledo!" he repeated fifteen or twenty times.

"Would you like it?" I asked.

"Oh yes!" he cried, clutching the greasy pelt to him. Then a canny look came into his eyes. "What do you want for it?"

"Your girl." I said, mincing no words.

"Polly?" he said in a horrified whisper. "You want Polly?"

"That's right."

He shook his head.

I shrugged. "Okay. If you don't want to be in the swim, I guess it's your business."

I sat down in a chair and pretended to read a book, but out of the corner of my eye I kept watching Petey. He was a torn man. First, he looked at the coat with the expression of waif at a bakery window. Then he turned away and set his jaw resolutely. Then he looked back at the coat, with even more longing in his face. Then he turned away, but with not so much resolution this time. Back and forth his head swiveled, desire waxing, resolution waning. Finally he didn't turn away at all; he just stood and stared with mad lust at the coat.

"It isn't as though I was in love with Polly," he said thickly. "Or going steady or anything like that."

"That's right," I murmured.

"What's Polly to me, or me to Polly?"

"Not a thing," said I.

"It's just been a casual kick - just a few laughs, that's all."

"Try on the coat," said I.

He compiled. The coat bunched high over his ears and dropped all the way down to his shoe tops. He looked like a mound of dead raccoons. "Fits fine," he said happily.

I rose from my chair. "Is it a deal?" I asked, extending my hand. He swallowed. "It's a deal," he said and shook my hand.

I had my first date with Polly the following evening. This was in the nature of a survey. I wanted to find out just how much work I had to get her mind up to the standard I required. I took her first to dinner.

"Gee, that was a delish dinner," she said as we left the restaurant.

And then I took her home. "Gee, I had a sensaysh time," she said as she bade me good night.

I went back to my room with a heavy heart. I had gravely underestimated the size of my task. This girl's lack of information was terrifying. Nor would it be enough merely to supply her with information. First she had to be taught to "think". This loomed as a project of no small dimensions, and at first I was tempted to give her back to Petey.

But then I got to thinking about her abundant physical charms and about the way she entered a room and the way she handled a knife and fork, and I decided to make an effort.

I went about it, as in all things, systematically. I gave her a course in logic. It happened that I, as a law student, was taking a course in logic myself, so I had all the facts at my fingertips. "Polly," I said to her when I picked her up on our next date, "tonight we are going over to the Knoll and talk."

"Oo, terrif," she replied. One thing I will say for this girl: you would go far to find another so agreeable.

We went to the Knoll, the campus trysting place, and we sat down under an old oak, and she looked at me expectantly. "What are we going to talk about?" she asked.

"Logic."

She thought this over for a minute and decided she liked it. "Magnif," she said.

Logic," I said, clearing my throat, "is the science of thinking. Before we can think correctly, we must first learn to recognize the common fallacies of logic. These we will take up tonight."

"Wow-dow!" she cried, clapping her hands delightedly.

I winced, but went bravely on. "First let us examine the fallacy called Dicto Simpliciter."

"By all means," she urged, batting her lashes eagerly.

"Dicto Simpliciter means an argument based on an unqualified generalization. For example: Exercise is good. Therefore everybody should exercise."

"Polly," I said gently, "the argument is a fallacy. Exercise is good is an unqualified generalization. For instance, if you have heart disease, exercise is bad, not good. Therefore exercise is bad, not good. Many people are ordered by their doctors not to exercise. You must qualify the generalization. You must say exercise is usually good, or exercise is good for most people. Otherwise you have committed a Dicto Simpliciter. Do you see?"

"No," she confessed. "But this is marvy. Do more! Do more!"

"It will be better if you stop tugging at my sleeve," I told her, and when she desisted, I continued. "Next we take up a fallacy called Hasty Generalization. Listen carefully: You can't speak French. Petey Burch can't speak French. I must therefore conclude that nobody at the University of Minnesota can speak French."

"Really?" said Polly, amazed. "Nobody?"

I hid my exasperation. "Polly, it's a fallacy. The generalization is reached too hastily. There are too few instance to support such a conclusion."

Know any more fallacies?" she asked breathlessly. "This is more fun than dancing, even."

I fought off a wave of despair. I was getting no where with this girl, absolutely no where. Still, I am nothing, if not persistent. I continued. "Next comes Post Hoc. Listen to this: Let's not take Bill on our picnic. Every time we take it out with us, it rains."

"I know somebody just like that," she exclaimed. "A girl back home - Eula Becker, her name is. It never fails. Every single time we take her on a picnic..."

"Polly," I said sharply, "it's a fallacy. Eula Becker doesn't cause the rain. She has no connection with the rain. You are guilty of Post Hoc if you blame Eula Becker."

"I'll never do it again," she promised contritely. "Are you mad at me?"

I sighed deeply. "No, Polly, I'm not mad."

"Then tell me some more fallacies."

"All right. Let's try Contradictory Premises."

"Yes, let's," she chirped, blinking her eyes happily.

I frowned, but plunged ahead. "Here's an example of Contradictory Premises: If God can do anything, can He make a stone so heavy that He won't be able to lift it?"

"Of course," she replied promptly.

"But if He can do anything, He can lift the stone," I pointed out.

"Yeah," she said thoughtfully. "Well, then I guess He can't make the stone."

"But He can do anything," I reminded her.

She scratched her pretty, empty head. "I'm all confused," she admitted.

"Of course you are. Because when the premises of an argument contradict each other, there can be no argument. If there is an irresistible force, there can be no immovable object. If there is an immovable object, there can be no irresistible force. Get it?"

"Tell me more of this keen stuff," she said eagerly.

I consulted my watch. "I think we'd better call it a night. I'll take you home now, and you go over all the things you've learned. We'll have another session tomorrow night."

I deposited her at the girls' dormitory, where she assured me that she had had a "perfectly" evening, and I went glumly home to my room. Petey lay snoring in his bed, the raccoon coat huddled like a great hairy beast at his feet. For a moment I considered waking him and telling him that he could have his girl back. It seemed clear that my project was doomed to failure. The girl simply had a logic-proof head.

But then I reconsidered. I had wasted one evening; I might as well waste another. Who knew? Maybe somewhere in the extinct crater of her mind, a few members still smoldered. Maybe somehow I could fan them into flame. Admittedly it was not a prospect fraught with hope, but I decided to give it one more try.

Seated under the oak the next evening I said, "Our first fallacy tonight is called Ad Misericordiam."

She quivered with delight.

"Listen closely," I said. "A man applies for a job. When the boss asks him what his qualifications are, he has a wife and six children at home, the wife is a helpless cripple, the children have nothing to eat, no clothes to wear, no shoes on their feet, there are no beds in the house, no coal in the cellar, and winter is coming."

A tear rolled down each of Polly's pink cheeks. "Oh, this is awful, awful," she sobbed.

"Yes, it's awful," I agreed, "but it's no argument. The man never answered the boss's question about his qualifications. Instead he appealed to the boss's sympathy. He committed the fallacy of Ad Misericordiam. Do you understand?"

"Have you got a handkerchief?" she blubbered.

I handed her a handkerchief and tried to keep from screaming while she wiped her eyes. "Next," I said in a carefully controlled tone, "we will discuss False Analogy. Here is an example: Students should be allowed to look at their textbooks during examination. After all, surgeons have X rays to guide them during a trial, carpenters have blueprints to guide them when they are building a house. Why, then, shouldn't students be allowed to look at their textbooks during examination?"

"There now," she said enthusiastically, "is the most marvy idea I've heard in years."

"Polly," I said testily, "the argument is all wrong. Doctors, lawyers, and carpenters aren't taking a test to see how much they have learned, but students are. The situations are altogether different, and you can't make an analogy between them."

"I still think it's a good idea," said Polly.

"Nuts," I muttered. Doggedly I pressed on. "Next we'll try Hypothesis Contrary to Fact."

"Sounds yummy," was Polly's reaction.

"Listen: If Madame Curie had not happened to leave a photographic plate in a drawer with a chunk of pitchblende, the world today would not know about radium."

"True, true," said Polly, nodding her head "Did you see the movie? Oh, it just knocked me out. That Walter Pidgeon is so dreamy. I mean he fractures me."

"If you can forget Mr. Pidgeon for a moment," I said coldly, "I would like to point out that statement is a fallacy. Maybe Madame Curie would have discovered radium at some later date. Maybe somebody else would have discovered it. Maybe any number of things would have happened. You can't start with a hypothesis that is not true and then draw any supportable conclusions from it."

"They ought to put Walter Pidgeon in more pictures," said Polly, "I hardly ever see him any more."

One more chance, I decided. But just one more. There is a limit to what flesh and blood can bear. "The next fallacy is called Poisioning the Well."

"How cute!" she gurgled.

"Two men are having a debate. The first one gets up and says, 'My opponent is a notorious liar. You can't believe a word that he is going to say.' ... Now, Polly, think hard. What's wrong?"

I watched her closely as she knit her creamy brow in concentration. Suddenly a glimmer of intelligence -- the first I had seen -- came into her eyes. "It's not fair," she said with indignation. "It's not a bit fair. What chance has the second man got if the first man calls him a liar before he even begins talking?"

"Right!" I cried exultantly. "One hundred per cent right. It's not fair. The first man has poisoned the well before anybody could drink from it. He has hamstrung his opponent before he could even start ... Polly, I'm proud of you."

"Pshaws," she murmured, blushing with pleasure.

"You see, my dear, these things aren't so hard. All you have to do is concentrate. Think-examine-evaluate. Come now, let's review everything we have learned."

"Fire away," she said with an airy wave of her hand.

Heartened by the knowledge that Polly was not altogether a cretin, began a long, patient review of all I had told her. Over and over and over again I cited instances, pointed out flaws, kept hammering away without letup. It was like digging a tunnel. At first, everything was work, sweat, and darkness. I had no idea when I would reach the light, or even if I would. But I persisted. I pounded and clawed and scraped, and finally I was rewarded. I saw a chink of light. And then the chink got bigger and the sun came pouring in and all was bright.

Five grueling nights with this book was worth it. I had made a logician out of Polly; I had taught her to think. My job was done. She was worthy of me, at last. She was a fit wife for me, a proper hostess for many mansions, a suitable mother for my well-heeled children.

It must not be thought that I was without love for this girl. Quite the contrary. Just as Pygmalion loved mine. I determined to acquaint her with feelings at our very next meeting. The time had come to change our relationship from academic to romantic.

"Polly," I said when next we sat beneath our oak, "tonight we will not discuss fallacies."

"Aw, gee," she said, disappointed.

"My dear," I said, favoring her with a smile, "we have now spent five evenings together. We have gotten along splendidly. It is clear that we are well matched."

"Hasty Generalization," said Polly brightly.

"I beg your pardon," said I.

"Hasty Generalization," she repeated. "How can you say that we are well matched on the basis of only five dates?"

I chuckled with amusement. The dear child had learned her lessons well. "My dear," I said, patting her hand in a tolerant manner, "five dates is plenty. After all, you don't have to eat a whole cake to know that it's good."

"False Analogy," said Polly promptly. "I'm not a cake. I'm a girl."

I chuckled with somewhat less amusement. The dear child had learned her lessons perhaps too well. I decided to change tactics. Obviously the best approach was a simple, strong, direct declaration of love. I paused for a moment while my massive brain chose the proper word. Then I began:

"Polly, I love you. You are the whole world to me, and the moon and the stars and the constellations of outer space. Please, my darling, say that you will go steady with me, for if you will not, life will be meaningless. I will languish. I will refuse my meals. I will wander the face of the earth, a shambling, hollow-eyed hulk."

There, I thought, folding my arms, that ought to do it.

"Ad Misericordiam," said Polly.

I ground my teeth. I was not Pygmalion; I was Frankenstein, and my monster had me by the throat. Frantically I fought back the tide of panic surging through me; at all costs I had to keep cool.

"Well, Polly," I said, forcing a smile, "you certainly have learned your fallacies."

"You're darn right," she said with a vigorous nod.

"And who taught them to you, Polly?"

"You did."

"That's right. So you do owe me something, don't you, my dear? If I hadn't come along you never would have learned about fallacies."

"Hypothesis Contrary to Fact," she said instantly.

I dashed perspiration from my brow. "Polly," I croaked, "you mustn't take all these things so literally. I mean this is just classroom stuff. You know that the things you learn in school don't have anything to do with life."

"Dicto Simpliciter," she said, wagging her finger at me playfully.

That did it. I leaped to my feet, bellowing like a bull. "Will you or will you not go steady with me?"

"I will not," she replied.

"Why not?" I demanded.

"Because this afternoon I promised Petey Burch that I would go steady with him."

I reeled back, overcome with the infamy of it. After he promised, after he made a deal, after he shook my hand! "The rat!" I shrieked, kicking up great chunks of turf. "You can't go with him, Polly. He's a liar. He's a cheat. He's a rat."

"Poisoning the Well ," said Polly, "and stop shouting. I think shouting must be a fallacy too."

With an immense effort of will, I modulated my voice. "All right," I said. "You're a logician. Let's look at this thing logically. How could you choose Petey Burch over me? Look at me --- a brilliant student, a tremendous intellectual, a man with an assured future. Look at Petey -- a knothead, a jitterbug, a guy who'll never know where his next meal is coming from. Can you give me one logical reason why you should go steady with Petey Burch?"

"I certainly can," declared Polly. "He's got a raccoon coat."

Love is Strange Love is Strange Love is Strange Love is Strange

A foolish boy met a foolish girl
And they let their simple love unfurl
He watched her with his eyes soft brown
Her hateful face always wore a frown

She ignored his gifts, his tears, his love
She, an angel, his peaceful dove
He was walking blindly into a doom
But those thoughts were never there to loom

He begged and pleaded for her to stay
On the day she sailed away
On a boat floating through the air
It looked as if she didn't care

But inside her, there was a voice
It spoke of how she had no choice
It spoke that love was there all along
She left to save him, he was wrong

For she was cursed always to defy
And her face had shown a lie
So their love could never be
But this was something, he could not see

He never knew what she'd done for him
And soon his eyes grew cold and dim
He felt nothing but eternal pain
Then sent a bullet through his brain

When she heard of his suicide
She blamed only herself, and cried
Staring blankly into the sky
She took the pills and said goodbye

That is how the story goes
But no one, no one truly knows
that story, a girl coming back too late
it was theirs alone, a tragic fate

hnggng ngaun wala pa title*

Wanted Girlfriend >> DarreL / 16 / m / manila at 7:26 AM PST

Updated: Monday, 23 June 2008 3:48 AM PDT

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Sunday, 7 January 2007

so s@d
Mood:  hug me

• the Wedding day •

---

---

 

My knees were shaking as I glanced at
him, ?my ex-boyfriend?.. he?s with
someone malamang girlfriend nya.
I pretend na di ko cia nakita, but he
grabbed my shoulder bag at napalingon
ako.. alam ko cia ang humila ng bag
ko.

?chesk? (as usual na tawag nya sa akin)
at parang wala lang, I said ?hi? kanina
pa daw nya ako nakita hindi lang daw
ako namamansin, sabi ko na lang
cencia, I was busy fixing my things,
sabay smile.

he asked me If I received the
invitation of his wedding..saka ko lang
naalala ikakasal na nga pala cia,
kelan? 3 days from now..date pa yun ng
anniversary namin.. the man I loved
before is announcing the date of his
wedding with this curly haired lady in
front of me.. the man who's deeply in
love with me before..*sigh**..

 

it?s been 2 years since we last talked,
siguro masasabi kong.. I missed him, so
much... hindi lang talaga maganda ang
naging paghihiwalay namin, may mga
bagay talaga na dapat ayusin, mga bagay
na nasira sa mga hindi inaasahang
pangyayari.. pero akala ko lang pala
yon, akala ko lang na magiging maayos
ang lahat.

as I opened the invitation,napansin ko
agad ang date.. anniversary nga namin
dati.. una kong naisip inaasar nya ako
tamang ganti lang sa mga ginawa ko
noon.. pero hindi ako nagpaasar. Eto
nga at nakikipagchikahan pa ako sa
harap ng kanyang fiancée. Bakit? Dahil
ba wala lang sa akin? Ayos lang na
makipagbolahan ako dito sa kanilang
dalawa??..

O magaling lang ako magtago ng
nararamdaman? Ang hirap kaya ng
ginagawa ko ngayon, trying to be nice
with them.

Naah!! Nagsisi na ako noon, ayoko na
magsisi ulit ngayon. Gusto kong ipakita
sa kanya na masaya ako para sa kanilang
dalawa. oo dapat may ayusin pa akong
mga bagay bagay, pero naisip ko para
saan pa?

wala naman na akong babalikan, wala
naman na akong pagbabawian sa
kasalanang nagawa ko.. pero kung alam
nya lang..sobrang nagsisi ako sa mga
nangyari.. kung alam nya lang kung
anong mga gusto kong sabihin ngayon..
hindi ko cia iniwan, nawala lang ako
saglit para ihulma ang sarili ko sa
kung sino mang gusto nyang maging
ako..pero cympre hindi nya ako
naintindihan?pero umaasa ako na kahit
papano..sana.. alam nya yon..

 

?we have to go cheska? nasabi ng
kanyang fiancée, ?aasahan ka namin sa
kasal?

 

?ah.. uhm yah.. p-pupunta ako? ngiti
lang sakin si Ace
?c-congratulations..? habol ko pa

 

*hinga ng malalim**..

 

*Sa Church**
Exactly 2pm kami dumating sa
church..kasama ko best friend kong si
Jelai chinika na agad nya ako, ano daw
ba ang nararamdaman ko na hindi ako ang
bride ni Ace, sagot ko "wala lang"..
She just smiled at me, thinking that ?
wala lang? nga talaga.. pero kung alam
nya lang, I wanted to shout in front of
everybody.. gusto kong ipaalam na ako
ang dapat na inaabangan ng lahat
ngayon..

pero hndi pa ako baliw para gawin ang
mga walang kwentang bagay na yon dahil
lang sa lalaking mahal ko pa rin
?ata??

 

after 10mins, the ceremony started.

 

I noticed the motif, it was pink..my
favorite color. I asked the girl beside
me kung sinong nag asikaso ng lahat ng
ito.. she said si Ace daw.. tango lang
ako..

 

as I quietly sitting there.. while
watching the couples, there was a girl
beside them who motioned forward to
pick her microphone. Sabi ko medyo
malilibang na ako, gusto ko kasing
nakakapanood ng mga kumakanta..
afterwards, she started to sing..
*pause**..

I know the song.. I almost cried when I
hear that.. that?s our theme song.. how
dare him played that song na nandito
ako.. hindi ko magets kung ano man ang
gusto nyang palabasin? Kung nananadya
ba cia? O talagang inaasar nya lang
ako?..

 

?you may now kiss your bride?..

 

Di ko na napansing natapos ang kanta
dahil sa mga sunod sunod na pumasok sa
isip ko.

 

..he looked at me first before he
kissed his wife..
gusto ko ciang batuhin ng sapatos ko sa
mga ginagawa nya..kelangan kong
makahanap ng tiyempo para maconfront
cia.. para maintindihan ko ang mga
nangyayari.. pinag kakaisahan ba nila
ako? O feeling ko lang yun?..

 

tapos na ang kasal, hindi na maganda
ang mood ko, bakit pa kasi ako nag-i-
stay? Lalo lang akong naiinsulto sa mga
nakikita ko sa paligid, mas maraming
bagay lang akong nakikita na
nagpapaalala noong kami pa.. I really
have to go, I have no purpose of being
here.. *kinakausap ko na ang sarili
ko**

walang lingon lingon akong naglakad
papalayo.. kelangan kong makalabas ng
simbahan agad..
sige cheska, almost there..
It was two steps away from the opened
door of the church when unexpectedly..
?where are you going??

 

 

I slowly faced him with teary eyes

 

there was a long awkward pause.

 

?what are you doing???

 

i looked straight at him.. ?that was
supposed to be.. my question..?
his eyes were full of questions.. we
just stared at each other..

 

after a few seconds, I sighed more
heavily.. and then..

 

?how dare you play our song in your
wedding ceremony?, how dare you pick
my
favorite color as your motif?, how dare
you choose our anniversary date as
your
wedding date??
my tears falling freely.. ?how dare you
look at me before you
kiss your wife??..

 

Ace looked straight at me,

and after a few seconds of silence..

 

"because that?s the last and only way I
could..
imagine youre my WIFE??"

 

 

 

---

---

---

kayo kasing mga babae eh!!..

hehehehe...

---

 

Wanted Girlfriend >> DarreL / 16 / m / manila at 7:36 AM PST

Updated: Friday, 19 January 2007 2:04 AM PST

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Saturday, 9 December 2006

Love?
Mood:  not sure

"LoVe Is A StAte Of MiNd"

"LoVe Is A StAte Of MiNd"

.... ito ay isang essay na maaring magbago sa pananaw ninyo. Kung
gusto ninyong manatili sa relasyon..., pwedeng iwasan ang essay na
ito...pasensya na po, kelangan lang mag out-put ng data mula sa
memory para magkaroon ng free space, for some reason.......lols

THESIS STATEMENT: "LOVE IS A STATE OF MIND"

note: ang limitation ng definition ng love dito ay ung pang bf-gf
lang po...rayt??!

Tama po ang nabsa nyo.... LOVE.... from the mind, hinde sa "heart".
bket?? Ganito un... Kaung mga girls, pag niligawan kayo, bket nyo
cnasagot ang guy?? Kc mahal nyo??? "naku po" kasi nkukulitan na
kayo..E araw2 ninyo ba nmang ka text, kachat at kasama. xiempre
marerealize nyo na he's worth having around pla.Eventually at this
stage, maiisip nyo na ay, "mahal ko pla siya"!! pero ang desisyon
bang un ay galing sa puso? HINDI!!! Kaya nga pag tatanungin nyo ang
nililigawan nyo, anong sagot nya??? "PAG-IISIPAN KO MUNA...."

Kaya kayo mga lalaki, wag lalaki ang ulo pag cnagot na kayo dhi;
ung "OO" na binigay nya ay hinde ibig sbhin na, OO nararamdaman kong
mahal na din kita, kundi OO naisip ko na masarap ka plang ka-txt,ka-
chat at kausap sa maghapon...NXT WEEK KO NA LANG TITIGNAN KUNG
TLGANG MAHAL NGA KITA, bka magsawa ka pa.. "Kung halimbawa ba,
nkasabay mong manligaw ang bestfriend nya or ang childhood
sweetheart nya, ssgutin ka pa kya nya?? Asa ka pa!!!

Eto pa... bket mas madaling "mahalin" ang gwapo at maganda? Kasi,
kpag gwapo o maganda ang isang tao, mas madaling imaginin na cla ang
kasama mo, kayakap mo...kasiping mo..OO, KASIPING.. Di ba dun nman
ang uwi ng mga lab-lab na cnasabi nyo na yan!!... Ano sa palagay
mo...??

Kayo nman mga guys, pano nyo nlaman na inlab pla kayo?? ssbhin nyo n
alang na paggising mo, mahal mo na siya??? "naku po"!!! Malamang,
bago kayo nagising, naisip nyo na mahal mo pla xia dhil
napanaginipan mong ka-sex mo xia.....or other events close to
it...ayt???

Cguro nga ay tama c AGENT SMITH, "Love is just a word"... It has no
emotions..only thoughts, imaginations..Bket ba kung anu-ano ang
gnagawa ng taong "in-lab" daw? Sabi nila, ganon daw tlga ang pag-
ibig....nyahahhaha...Kasi , iniisip nila na under spell nga cla
nitong "love" na ito kaya sa tingin nila my karapatan na clang
magbaliw-baliwan!! Prang paglaalsing lang yan.... PAG- LASING KA,
PWEDE KA NMAN MAGING PEACEFUL DB??DPAT NGA MATULOG KA NA ALNG E,
PERO BKET MY MGA NAG-AAMOK PAG LASING??KASI AKALA NILA DPAT WILD ANG
LASING!!! YOU SEE, "LOVE" is like fear...IT'S ALL IN D MIND....

Bket inspired ang tao pag in-lab?? Kasi po, inspiration comes from
the mind! Hinde un nararamdaman...INSPIRATION IS A MENTAL MOTIVATION.

Pero kung mapilit po kau na nararamdamn yang pag-mamahal na
yan.........cge nga po.... HOW CAN WE KNOW IF WE ARE ACTUALLY
EXPERIENCING TRUE LOVE AND NOT JUST ITS MIND COUNTERPART!!!!!!!!

N Scars of a Failing Heart N

broken HOPES falling away
don't you have something to say?
does it make you sleep?
emptiness of words that you've said
SCARS in my HEART that you left
now I'm close to dying

Refrain:
everything's failing with thoughts of YOU
now I'm down without knowing what's true
with the way you look at SOMEONE else
EVERYONE'S saying just try to be STRONG!!!!
how I wish that I'm just being WRONG!!
would you try to hear me out?

Chorus:
the mood of distraction's prevailing tonight
have you seen what's the BEST , ,what'is RIGHT?
now you're gone and on your own
the ghost of my PRESENCE is saying GOODBYE
and I'll die without making things right
and you're gone and I'm on my own

Verse 2:
broken glass CUT me to sleep
wounds are DISSECTED so DEEP
I don't want to wake up
I need this BLOOD to warm my hands
you don't have to understand
you just got ME ALL WRONG!!..

 

*sad*

Wanted Girlfriend >> DarreL / 16 / m / manila at 7:52 PM PST

Updated: Saturday, 20 January 2007 5:40 AM PST

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