<?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-8659558</id><updated>2011-05-31T03:15:36.481+08:00</updated><title type='text'>... imperfect ...</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>53</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-116628457420266513</id><published>2006-12-16T18:39:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-12-16T23:56:14.210+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Almost Twenty-One</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"&gt;&lt;p class="multiply:no_crosspost"/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-116628457420266513?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/116628457420266513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=116628457420266513&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/116628457420266513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/116628457420266513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2006/12/almost-twenty-one.html' title='Almost Twenty-One'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-116569529336247615</id><published>2006-12-09T22:38:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-12-10T04:14:53.370+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Random Incoherence</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"&gt;&lt;P&gt;It's been a while since I touched my multiply site, much less blogged. Everytime I wanted to write something, I become busy with things. And I miss writing something that's just flows of thoughts that keeps on entering my mind. It's just that, it's good sometimes to break free of well known writing structures and just creating something chaotic yet beautiful. Or at least chaotic. There's always something about chaos that keeps drawing me in. When I look at chaos, I see beauty. I saw the rawness of the beauty. Hey. Here I go again trailing off to something totally different. Anyway, It's kind of weird that I like to write blogs about nothing at all. Everything I write in blogs, well almost everything, is spontaneous. Nothing's planned but somehow, I would like to think that it turned out ok. So, there.That was the intro. Let's delve into my life a little bit, shall we?&lt;/P&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;P&gt;Believe it or not, I want to fast forward my life now. At least for a few months and go off to medschool. Maybe it's just time for me to move on to a new phase in my life. I feel stuck somehow and I'm just going through the motions of college life. It's not that I hate it. On the contrary, I love college. It gave me freedom, maybe too much of it, and I made mistakes but I learned. Maybe I'm just worried about the future. I don't even know in which medschool I would end up. And that scares me a little. Uncertainties are unnerving, especially when these uncertainties will have a big impact on your life. I guess my only consolation is that there's also a hint of excitement somewhere there. Life would be boring if everything was for certain. It's a scary ride but it's definitely exciting.&lt;/P&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;P&gt;Oh yeah. My laptop has gone haywire these past weeks. First, I couldn't function properly when it's not on safe mode. Then, it totally crashed and I had to reformat it. My treasure trove of stories I found all over the net was no more. Most importantly, stories that I have been working on were gone. Poof. And I have to start all over again. Then after just about a week, the adaptor went kaboom. I had to go to Greenhills to buy it. And guess what, it took me an hour to get there, fifteen freakin!!!! minutes to buy the damn thing and two hours to go home. Afterwhich I had to change, and go to a party. Yeah. Not a fun today. &lt;/P&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;P&gt;I'm tired, I'm weary, and I'm out.&lt;/P&gt;&lt;p class="multiply:no_crosspost"/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-116569529336247615?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/116569529336247615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=116569529336247615&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/116569529336247615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/116569529336247615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2006/12/random-incoherence.html' title='Random Incoherence'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-115712939432473134</id><published>2006-09-01T20:43:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-09-02T00:49:55.490+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Keep on Smiling (A Songfic)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"&gt;&lt;p class="multiply:no_crosspost"/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-115712939432473134?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/115712939432473134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=115712939432473134&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/115712939432473134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/115712939432473134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2006/09/keep-on-smiling-songfic.html' title='Keep on Smiling (A Songfic)'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-115625652567369752</id><published>2006-08-22T22:08:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-08-22T22:22:05.683+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Trust No One</title><content type='html'>I always had a problem with trust. It takes such a long time for me to trust anybody at all. For the record, I can only name 3 to 5 people that I trust unconditionally. Yep, that's about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing with trust is that we have to rely on people and that we should have faith in them. That's hard for me. I'm used to doing things on my own. I've been alone for most of my life; there are moments that when I needed someone, no one was there for me. And that hurts. It hurts to know that sometimes I can't rely on other people because they are precisely the people that hurt me. I've never let anyone come close. To know that I have issues to deal with to. People see in me an easy going guy who could take things life easily but sometimes the facade breaks. And all I am left with is someone who is vulnerable and fragile as a glass. That's the side I don't want people to see. That's the side I try to keep to myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the record, only one person has seen me cry. You know who you are and I still trust you completelely above all else hun. I don't like people fretting over me because I showed them a part of me. It's not worth the hassle and it's not worth your time. Believe me. Maartr lang talaga ako minsan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What also keeps me from having trust in others is dissapointments. I try to have faith in people as much as I can. I try. I really do. But when that faith is met with disappointment time after time, it's hard to keep it strong. But I try to believe. And I try my best. But sometimes my best is not even good enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not blaming anyone nor am I fingerpointing. I'm just saying that to trust someone takes a lot out of me. Call it insecurity, call it whatever you want. I don't really care. That's life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-115625652567369752?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/115625652567369752/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=115625652567369752&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/115625652567369752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/115625652567369752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2006/08/trust-no-one.html' title='Trust No One'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-115608877195786471</id><published>2006-08-20T22:25:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-08-20T23:46:11.986+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Immersion Experience</title><content type='html'>I was not sure if I wanted to go. I had my doubts if I can pick up something useful in the immersion. Imagine leaving the luxury and comfort of home to go live in a place that's not up to standards. Then, you have to experience what it means to be "poor". You'll eat their food, take a bath in a cr you don't even know if it's clean or not. Let's face it, not many of us will want to do that. That's why I was a little hesitant on going. But it didn't matter. It was an enriching experience that I will never forget. There. That should serve as an intro. hehe ^^&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1st Day, August 18.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok. So I woke up at around 4:50 am. As usual, I had a hard time getting up but woke up I did. It took me around 30 minutes to prepare. Around 5:30, I went to McD, the meeting place. Me and Mimi (ang cute. wahehe) ate breakfast at McDo. At around 6, she left because immersion pips were starting to gather. Me, Gail, Ian and Gio just sort of talked and chilled while waiting for the others. After a few minutes we left for Biñan, Laguna. Unfortunately, Bboy wasn't able to come because of some unforeseen circumstances. But it was cool. At around 10, we came to the place. It was ok. Not good; not that bad either. So we went to the &lt;em&gt;bahay-pulungan&lt;/em&gt; to meet up with the coordinator at the place and our foster parents. We were paired up except for Ian who volounteered to be the only one without a partner. Gio and I were grouped. And we were blessed to be the "adopted sons" of Tatay Rency and Nanay Betty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ngek. Tama na nga. Filipino na lang ako. Baka maubusan ako ng Ingles. Wahehe. Anyway, kaunting background lang sa mga foster parents namin ni Gio. Si Tatay Rency, ang aming mabait na ama, ay isang empleyado sa munisipyo at isa ring tagapagbantay ng fish pen ni Kuya Nongnong. Guwapo yan si tatay. hehe. Noong dumating kami, may arthritis siya (:c) kaya d nya kami nasundo sa bahay pulungan. Si Nanay Betty naman ay napakagaling magluto. Ang galleeeeeng. Sobra. Hehe. Nay, salamat sa luto niyo. Wahehe. Pinakain niyo kami ng mabuti ni Gio. Kami naman ni Gio ang tagahugas ng mga pinggan. Kahit na ayaw ni nanay, napilit pa rin naman. Hehe. Tapos may tatlo silang anak. Si Kuya Resty, Kuya Jheff (sosi noh? may etch [h] pa!) at si Rachel. Yun ang pamilya namin ni Gio para sa tatlong araw.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway... Ayun. So kuwentuhan muna kami ni tatay at ni nanay. Napakabait nila at hindi nahihiyang sagutin ang mga makukulit naming mga tanong. Hanngang sa lunch nagkukuwentuhan kami. Bait talaga nila sobra. Tapos hugas kami ng pingan ni Gio. Yun lang. Wahehe. Tapos nun, gumala kami ni Gio. Kami lang ata yung group na labas ng labas. Dinaanan namin si Ian kina Tay Boy. Tapos hinanap namin si Gail at si Marge. Kila Tay Edwin pala sila. So pumunta kami dun pero sabi daw nasa tindahan. Una nawala pa kami pero finally, nahanap rin naman. Haha. So tambay kami sa tindahan inuubos yung mga paninda nila Gail habang nagkukuwentuhan. Astig d ba? Ilang oras ring ganun before umuwi rin kami lahat. Tapos umuwi kami for dinner pero nagkita-kita uli kami. "Joke time" kami nun kung saan nagshashare kami ng mga kakornihan. Tapos tulog. Hehe. Hindi kami mapakali ni Gio. Noong gabi, biglang bumangon si Gio at ginapang ako. Hehe. Joke lang. Nairita lang sya sa mga lamok kaya kumuha ng t-shirt para takpan ang legs niya na paborito ng mga lamok. Hehe. Tapos nun, bumangon naman ako para maglagay ng Off Mosquito Repellant. Tapos ang Perst Day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Day 2, August 19&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gising kami ni Gio ng mga 6:35 pero bumangon ng 6:45. Wahehe. Breakfast muna kami, hugas ng pingan bago puntahan si Ian. Tapos sinundo namin sila Gail bago pumunta dun sa lugar kung saan kami magtatanim. Hehe. Saya pala magtanim kasama ng mga kaibigan. Haha. Ang cuuutttteee ni Gail magpunit ng plastic na lalagyan. Haha. Nakataas yung pinky. Lol. Tapos lagi namin siya inaasar nila Ian at Gio. Ako naman daw, ang galing daw basta may kinalaman sa butas. Wahehe. Tapos naman pumunta kami sa Lawa ng Laguna. Dumaan kami sa ilog na sobrang rumi. Meron pang lumulutang na patay na aso. Pero yung lawa, maganda talaga. Wala ako masabi. Napakatahimik. Sobrang naramdaman ko ang kapayapaan ng lugar. Mahilig kasi ako sa mga ganoong lugar. Maganda kasi mag-isip kapag ganun. Tapos pumunta kami dun sa isa sa mga fishpens. Pinakain kami ng hipon. Grabe. ANg saraaap noong maliliit na hipon. Tapos pinakain kami ng paksiw na may halong sari-saring isda. Sarap rin. Haha. Tapos biglang tumalon sa lawa sila Gio at Ian. Naligo sila. Hehe. Nagkasugat pa si Ian. Haha. Ayos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Noong hapon naman, dun kami sa kubo ni Ka Erning, yung moderator. Dun kami gumawa ng mga plano plano ng gagawin naman dun sa Solidarity Night. Hehe. Ayos d ba? Kaming apat nila Gio, Ian at Gail ang magkagrupo. Ang kuleeet namin. Nag-aasaran. Pero pinagtutulungan namin si Gail. Wahehe. Tapos naisip naming presentation, song and dance number. Grabe. As in sobrang kakaiba. Natatawa nga kami sa aming mga sarili para kasing magmumukha kaming tanga. Ikakanta at isasayaw namin ang heavily revised version ng "Ang Mga Ibon..." After ng practice, naglaro kami ng bilyar nila Gail sa bahay namin dun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pagdating ng gabi, pumunta na kami dun sa venue. Ayos naman yung programa. May mga messages ang mga anak at ang kanilang mga magulang para sa isa't isa. Tapos nun, yung presentation na. Astig naman. D naman kami gaanong napahiya. SO ayos lang. Wala na akong ibang sasabihin pa tungkol sa bagay na yun. AT humantong na tayo sa fav ko: ang inuman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Old School kami ng mga ka-immersion ko. Gin pare. Hehe. Nakaubos kami ng 3-4 na bilog at isang kuwatro kantos. O ha? In less than two hearts. Ang bilis nun. Halos lahat may tama na. Si Gail knockout. Hindi na nakauwi kaya dun na lang sa bahay ni Ka Jessie dinala. Tapos nasira namin yung bakod ni Kuya Jessie. Wahehe. Anyway, pumunta kami dun sa isang videoke. Oo nga pala, kasama namin mga parents dito. At least, halos lahat ng lalakeng magulang. Gran Matador naman. AT this point, nasa gitna na ako ng tipsy at lasing. Kaya ginawa ko ang lagi kong ginagawa sa mga sitwasyong ganun: tawagan si Mimi. Haha. After nung call na matagal, nakihalubilo muli ako sa mga nag-iinuman. Umuwi kami ni Gio ng may tama na at masaya. Pagkahiga, tulog. Wasak. Hehe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3rd Day, August 20.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May meeting kami ng 8 am pero nagising kami nila Ian at Gio ng mga 9. Late kami. Hehe. Pagpunta namin dun, nagsisimula na sila. Pero wala sila Gail at Marge. Bakit kaya? hmm... Tapos inaamin ni Andre na sinabi niya kila Marge na magkikita daw ng 12 sa may lawa. Hehe. Lokong bata. Pagkatapos noong meeting and sharing pumunta kami kila Gail para tingnan sila. Mga 1 am naman, nagpuulong pulong ulit for the final messages bago kami umalis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ending.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sa totoo lang, nahiya kami ni Gio kila Tay Rency kasi si Tay may arthritis eh pero pumayag siya na doon kami tumira. Grabe. Biro mo may sakit na nga siya, inalagaan pa kami. Unconditional acceptance para sa mga katulad namin. Saludo ako. Galing talaga eh. Salamat talaga Tay. Si Nay naman, nagpapasalamat rin ak. Sarap ng mga niluluto niya. Teh bomb talaga. Hehe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think the best word that can describe the whole immersion experience is "enriching". As in sobrang ang dami kong natutunan na magagandang bagay. I feel blessed na sumama nga ako. Dami ko natutunan at napukaw ang damdamin ko (nax). Yun lang siguro masasabi ko. I have to let the experience sink in before I can finally comment on it fully. So dito lang muna. Ciao!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-115608877195786471?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/115608877195786471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=115608877195786471&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/115608877195786471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/115608877195786471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2006/08/immersion-experience.html' title='The Immersion Experience'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-115344427892045176</id><published>2006-07-21T08:48:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-21T09:11:18.976+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Confessions of a Rich Kid, Part I</title><content type='html'>I am living a privileged life. I have everything that I need. And so much more. I live a life of luxury and excesses. I'm studying at a university which costs over 50k per sem. And pretty soon, I'll be going to medschool which may costs around 160k per year. I don't have a pda phone or a music phone but I do have a pocket pc, an mp3 player, a flashdisk and a phone worth 20k. I may not have a psp or a Ninntendo DS but I did buy a ps2 a month after it came out which, I might add, isn't conveted and only plays original ps2 cds which costs 3k. And I already have money saved up to buy a ps3 in the near future. Plus I have 2 credit cards and 2 atm cards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am rich. I don't doubt it. I accept it as part of who I am. It's premature to say that despite all of these, I still remain down to earth and simple. That is way too much bullshit for me too take. I'm not down to earth but I try to firmly plant my feet on the ground. I'm not simple by any means but I try to live my life as simply as I can. I have never known how it is to go hungry because of lack of money. I have never looked poverty straight in the eyes. But I try to know their plight even if sometimes I feel that I don't have anything to do with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are times when I am full of myself. The arrogance, the pride and the conceitedness. At times I will lash out for no other reason except for the fact that I did it because I can do it. I spend way too much money on things that I will seldom use. I am an elitist by nature. I try not to mingle with people I consider below me. I explored things that I'm not really proud of. And there are things that I regret doing and not doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are times that I wonder, what is the point of all of these? What the fuck will I do? I am confused and rich. It's a very deadly combination that will lead a person to so much trouble. You start to think that happiness can be bought by a few wads of cash and the solution for the emptiness is a credit card with unlimited credit. You start to think that friends can be bought, relationships can be bidden and love can be expressed through cash. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is a hallowing existence but it is part of my reality. A part of who I am.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-115344427892045176?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/115344427892045176/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=115344427892045176&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/115344427892045176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/115344427892045176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2006/07/confessions-of-rich-kid-part-i.html' title='Confessions of a Rich Kid, Part I'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-115280449516785459</id><published>2006-07-13T23:04:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-13T23:28:15.246+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Something Something</title><content type='html'>Hi. I don't know if somebody is still reading my blog or what. But then again, does it matter when most of the people reading it don't know much about me? Or if they do know much about me, why do they even bother to read it? Just wondering aloud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's raining. Yep. It's raining. There's a storm and classes were suspended. I like the rain. It has this sort of sad feeling to it that I like. And it has the power to cleanse away things. To wash away regrets, heartaches and transgressions. It somehow reinforces the feeling that somebody is crying with you, even if the ones crying are the clouds. But it helps to know that somebody is there for you. That you are not alone even if sadness is all that you know. And that like all sad things, it will pass. And the silver lining of happiness will be there to greet you. I like the rain. I live to see it and to feel it as each tiny drop caress my skin before it falls into the ground to join its brethren, only to get up when the sun rises again before falling down again to give comfort to people like me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's enough about the rain. Anyway, I have a physics test on Saturday and I don't know if I can pass it. Ha! I don't really like numbers but it's required. I don't want to fail so I've been studying for a week now. But it's all kinda fuzzy right now. Maybe I'll have better luck tomorrow. I hope it gets postponed though. But that's just delaying the inevitable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm... What else. I haven't written much in the past few days but I guess it's ok. I'm just busy with other stuff. Hopefully I can write soon. I miss the feel of the way the story circle around my head and how sentences dance before I type them. It's something that I've grown accustomed to. I wish I can write again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's it I guess. ciao!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-115280449516785459?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/115280449516785459/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=115280449516785459&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/115280449516785459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/115280449516785459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2006/07/something-something.html' title='Something Something'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-115258223357255522</id><published>2006-07-11T09:40:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-07-11T09:43:53.583+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fast</title><content type='html'>Timing is of the essence&lt;br /&gt;And speed is the key&lt;br /&gt;To a world's that's changing&lt;br /&gt;Right before my very eyes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A world of the finite&lt;br /&gt;Of the split-second&lt;br /&gt;Where the greatest crime&lt;br /&gt;Is slowing down&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A world of broken angels&lt;br /&gt;And unfulfilled promises&lt;br /&gt;Where the gravest punishment&lt;br /&gt;Is being left behind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You look at the world&lt;br /&gt;And there's only a singe question that matter&lt;br /&gt;Is the world just going faster&lt;br /&gt;Or am I just a step slower?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-115258223357255522?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/115258223357255522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=115258223357255522&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/115258223357255522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/115258223357255522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2006/07/fast.html' title='Fast'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-114606293348858372</id><published>2006-04-26T22:25:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-04-26T22:48:53.566+08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Story, My Life</title><content type='html'>I wasn't expecting to write anything for the next few weeks. But it has recently come to my attention that someone had... how shall I put this... hinted that one of my fics was not really mine. That I committed plagiarism.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why did I write this? Why am I worried about one story. One stupid story?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know some people may not understand what's the big deal about it. No. It's not about the ethics of it nor is it about being criminally liable. That's not my main concern. It's not even what people may think. Nor is it about tarnishing my reputation (In the anonymity of the net, do I even have a reputation?) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a big deal because IT IS MY STORY. Every story I have ever written is an extension of me. Every story tells a part of my life that I want to share; that I want others to learn from. It's not about the plot. It's not about the sentence structures or the grammar and spelling. This is about me. This is about me using my blood as an ink, as a fuel, to create my story the way I envision it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By saying that the story is not mine; that I copied it is to accuse me of not being honest with myself. It is to accuse me of not being real. I am real. These things I have written are my feelings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To say that I didn't do it is to say that all those nights thinking about the plot or those times that I hesitated to write did not exist. Yes, sometimes I do hesitate to write and to show to everyone what I have written. By reading what I have written, I am allowing a reader to explore my world. To comment about it. No matter what others may say, it's scary to let people that you barely know to walk on a world that you created. A world that has your essence in it. A world where your greatest dreams and your greatest fears come to life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My story is who I am. And I am more than just my story but it is still a big part of who I am. The story is my life. And my life is the story. I don't expect people to get what I am saying but I do expect them to listen and to know that what I am telling them is genuine. That it is real. That when you read it, you know that I am sincere in what I am saying. To take that away from me is to take away my life...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-114606293348858372?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/114606293348858372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=114606293348858372&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/114606293348858372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/114606293348858372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2006/04/my-story-my-life.html' title='My Story, My Life'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-114259477531023737</id><published>2006-03-17T19:22:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-17T19:26:15.333+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Was Made by Love: Who I am and the Existence of the Absolute</title><content type='html'>Who am I? That's almost like a trivial question but if you probe deeper, it has got to be one of the most important questions that a person can ask himself. Who am I? It's a question that carries deep implications on not just who a person is but who he is in relation to the world. And it is only through exercise of our fundamental option can it ever be known who a person is. A person is not a sum of all his actions but it does make up a part of him. Still, that is not all that there is to him. He is so much more than any action.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I thought of myself as some kind of a chameleon. I shifted personalities depending on whom I was with or where I was. This led to a confusion within myself. More often than not, these personalities that I shifted into are different and varied. There was the fun me. The cool me. The bad me. The good me. It was an endless array of personalities. It's almost like who I am was a buffet table, picking up whatever I wanted at that time. It split me apart. Instead of knowing more about who I am, I lost myself further on the edges. I was not who I really was, I was who I thought people wanted me to be. And since people had varied opinions, it developed a shape-shifting persona designed to cater to other people's needs. My life was such a mess. I had many friends but I was alone. I had a life but I didn't live it. I had a future but didn't want it. And I had a place to go but no direction nor purpose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; It would be pure flattery if I said being in a Philosophy class changed me but it would also be untrue if I didn’t say that it affected me and I learned and understood a few things. It was not   the  "thing” that set me up in the right path but it helped me along the way. It was an eye-opener and it   was an affirmation of the path that I have chosen. That I was on the right track of discovering myself. Yes, I am not yet finished discovering myself. I am still on that path but there are a few things that I have learned. But now, I guess I could say that I am living my life and I have a future that I am looking forward to and I have both a direction and a purpose. These things I discovered through love. And through love, things became clear; a purpose was given and I was never the same again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; For the purpose of this paper, I would like to discuss three things that really touched and affected me. I would touch on who I am, love and the Absolute. All these things are connected obviously. And that is what I would want to write about. &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  So, the question. Who am I? Judging from everything I have learned, the problem with the question is not so much that there is no answer to that but the approach to the question. Some people think that the question presupposes that man can be known. That man is an object that can be known; that man can be quantified. That by knowing his body parts and his personality traits, man can be known. The approach then is not so much as who the person is but what he is. There is a difference. A huge difference between who and what. In my search on finding out who I am, what I answered was not who but the what. In effect, I treated myself as something purely objective. And I reached the wrong conclusion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  How therefore shall the question of who am I be approached? Well, it must be taken into account that a person is not something purely objective. There is subjectivity to him. In fact, every person is a subject upon himself. It must be made clear that he is not the action but it’s doer.  He does not only react but he acts. But then, a person can also be the receiver of an action and he can also be stimulated to react. Here then comes the duality of the person: he is both a subject and an object. This fact cannot be separated nor can a person can be analyzed separately: either as a subject or an object. Man has to be analyzed as a whole, as a unity because man is not fully man unless there is a unity in him. Take away his subjectivity, he ceases to be what he is. Take away his objectivity, the same thing happens. So then, the question must then be approached in regards that man is an embodied subject. That he is both subject and an object.   &lt;br /&gt; So how to proceed to analyze man? Either the phenomenological method or the usage of the primary and secondary reflection can be utilized. The phenomenological method reduces an experience to its essence then relates it to the doer of the experience.  What it does is to relate the experience from where it originated and thus caters to both the subjective and objective aspects of the relationship. Primary and secondary reflection comes hand in hand in analyzing experience. While primary reflection breaks down an experience into categories, the secondary reflection seeks to unite the fragmented pieces and see it as a whole. This is not to say that they are contradictory; only that the secondary experience does not accept the findings of the primary reflection as final. There is more to the experience than it's fragmented pieces. What both primary and secondary reflection adheres to is the totality and wholeness of the experiences. Like the phenomenological method, it caters to both subjective and objective aspects. By seeing the thing as a whole, can we truly understand it for what it is. These two methods give us a unique perspective on experiences in that the experience is examined in relation to the one experiencing it. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; I think it is more apt to answer the question of who I am using the primary and secondary experience. Using this method, I categorize who I am first. I am male, 20 years old and studying at the Ateneo. I can feel emotions. I can feel pain. I feel happiness. But then we reach a stumbling block: personality. How then do I quantify my personality? A person's personality varies differently depending on who is asked. I may be cheerful to some but gloomy to others. Everybody has an opinion on who a person really is. This is so because of the fact that personality refers to how we relate to other subjects. It is how one subject perceives another subject. Plus, I have this shape shifting personality that depends on what I think people want to see. Therein lies the dilemma. We cannot simply make a survey asking who we are to other people, then collect all their opinions, find out what is common among them and deduce what we found is our personality. No, there is something more to our personality. Our personality encroaches upon being both subject and an object. It has two aspects within it that cannot be separated and analyzed. Personality must be seen as a whole and in its totality. To not do so would invalidate what our personality is.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  So I stopped. I gave up trying to categorize it. I mean, really. Can we quantify it and categorize it without destroying what it means? That's why I don't believe in personality tests because it is so objective. Answer this question and the answer would reflect your personality. It doesn't make any sense. How could answering a test tell us who we are and what we are like? I am more than the sum of parts. I am more than questions filled out in a personality test. To quantify my personality based on objective aspects would make me less than who I am. I am more than the sum of my reactions and of my parts. I am so much more. My personality is a part of both my subjective and objective aspect. Thus, categorizing it in an object manner would destroy my totality and my wholeness as a person. There is unity in me and any attempt to separate this unity would reduce me. I am a subject and that makes all the difference.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; My shape shifting personality is part of who I am and to deny it would be to deny    myself. Think of me as a person who tries to wear masks. The masks that I wore vary depending on who I am with. Over time, I became confused between the masks that I wore and the one who is wearing it. Somewhere along the way, I lost myself. Somehow, the masks became a part of me and I cannot simply separate myself from it. The masks and the wearer become interchanged. Slowly now, I am trying to discern from the masks from the wearer.  The masks are still there but there is something within me that tells me to look for the wearer. To rediscover myself and to see my real face and not just the masks that hides it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; So where do I begin? The beginning of the story is always the hardest to write. When did I begin to wear masks? When did it become necessary for me to change personalities? When did I choose that fundamental option to wear masks? I did not come up with the answers that I sought. But perhaps I came up with the answers that did matter. It was not the answer to when that I discovered. It was the answer to why. Why did I wear a mask? Why did I do it? It was because of love, albeit a twisted notion of it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I am an only child. I had no siblings to play with. I knew loneliness at such an early age. It is at this point that I must say that I do not blame my parents for the loneliness. God bless them for everything that they have done for me. To blame them is like blaming the earth for the nourishment it gives to its children or blaming God for mankind's existence. They tried their best to make me feel that I was not alone. I do not even begin to know when to begin to repay them       everything they did for me, not that they want me to. How can a small plant repay the sun and the earth? It's just one of those notions of a child thankful for a chance to exist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Sorry for the brief interlude. Anyway, I knew loneliness at such a young age. There was this great void or emptiness inside of me that I sought to replace, utilizing different things. Cartoons when I was child then books, academics, alcohol, drugs, sex. Everything just for the sake of filling emptiness inside of me. I jumped from one thrill to another as soon as the thrill ended and I was empty once again. All I was looking for was love. And acceptance. I was so afraid of being lonely forever that loneliness became a part of me. It clothe me and embraced    me in its cold arms. But I didn't want loneliness. I didn't want that void, that emptiness. So I tried my best to cater to what others expected of me. To intellectual people, I tried to play the part of a smart person engaging them in talks about new breakthroughs in science. To the people who lived for the thrill, I was the ultimate risk taker. I knew from the way I was living that I was on a road with a wall at the end. I felt that I was a car that can only go faster but lacks the brakes. The only way for me to stop was to hit the wall at the end of the road and crash and burn. I wasn't afraid of that happening. On the contrary I was looking forward to it. Maybe by stopping, the emptiness would stop too. It was the most thrilling part of my life but it was also the loneliest. Life in the fast lane was a lonely one. All for a twisted notion of love and acceptance that I craved. I yearned to be accepted and to be loved just like any other. The problem was, I took a different approach in looking for it. I was never the same since.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; As much as love set me the path that lead to destruction, it was also the thing that saved me from hitting the wall, so to speak. As much as love destroyed me, it saved me as well. Say what you will about love being overrated but it saved me, as cheesy as it may sound. Love made me, unmade me and is remaking me. Love destroyed me. Love saved me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; We started off as acquaintances in high school. She was my classmate and seatmate. At first, I looked at her as just one of those people whom I will soon forget when I graduate from high school the year after. Sure, we talked and shared a few jokes but it was nothing special. It was only when a close friend of mine confessed to me that he was thinking of courting her did I realize that she was pretty. Because of my friend, I didn't mind it and just continued to do what I was doing. But something happened between them and my close friend stopped courting her. Since I felt guilty for the actions done by my friend, I comforted her and was there for her when she needed help. Eventually, we became close friends. I asked her out and she consented. That was when we started to go out regularly. It was in one of those regular get-togethers that we realized that we loved each other. We chose to be together and here we are. As of the deadline of this paper, we have been together for three years, six months, and thirteen days. And still going strong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; At first, I was afraid that it would not last. A dread filled me. Everything changes. Nothing is permanent in this world. Even man does not stop changing. He progresses over time and the only way for him to stop is to die. Death is the only end to change. However, I began to realize that this was different from my previous relationships. It's a little cliché to say that but that is how I feel. Of course, there is still that uncertainty that it may not last but it's the least of my worries. I would rather enjoy the time I spend with her than to worry about whatever the future may bring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; It was Karl Jaspers who said that in love, everything is so much more valuable. Well, it is true. Love makes you appreciate everything more. You rediscover the beauty of the sunset or the value of peace and silence. You begin to realize that life is a gift and it is such a beautiful gift. But most of all, you begin to appreciate yourself. You begin to see that if you are capable of loving then you can be capable of greater things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; It would be naïve to say that I changed because of the person that I loved but what I could say is that because of our love, I began to change. My partner did not attempt to change me but accepted me for who I was. We gave ourselves freedom to grow as individual persons. To mature and to progress. We fell in love because we liked each other for who we are and any attempt to change each other would make our love untrue. Love is giving everything that you are to a person. I gave everything that I am. But I saw that what I was then was something that I'm not proud of. It's not that she said that I was unworthy of her but rather I know that if I was to give a gift if myself to her, I needed to be a better person. So because of that, I changed. She did not demand it of me but I did it. What she did was supported my decision and encouraged me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;There is a saying about love that I really liked and it goes something like this: I know I can live without you, but I chose not to. It's simple, it's sweet but it really means a lot. It would mean that love is a choice. That the reason why we love this person is because we made a choice to open up to that person. It was our choice to reveal ourselves. It was our choice that we allowed ourselves to be loved. Destiny has nothing to do with choosing the people you love. I rather have this different view of destiny than most people. I believe that destiny does exist but it does not rule people's lives. I believe that destiny is merely an opportunity revealed but it is always up to a person's choice to determine where he goes. Love then would be for me, one of the greatest, if not the greatest, exercise of our fundamental option.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Love also entails that two persons become one but remain two. It's a bit confusing at first but I really do get what it means. Simply put, you do not lose yourself in love. There is still an existence of self even if two people love each other. That by sharing yourself to someone, you remain yourself but you become something more. It's like a Venn diagram wherein two circles overlap each other. The circles remain what they are but at the same time, the overlap between them creates something different from the two circles. As such, for a relationship to be healthy, the individuality of a person must also thrive. He must be given an opportunity to be himself. If not, then it is not love. A person does not lose himself in love but rather it enhances who he is. So, there should be a space for an individual to grow. It does not mean that because a couple is in an exclusive relationship that they should spend every moment together. It would seem a nice notion at first but if dug deeper, it would be seen that it's not right. A person must be allowed to spend time alone or with others. Spending time alone gives the person a chance to explore options. To reflect on life, death, love or anything. Spending time with other people is important, too. Man lives in a relation with other men. There is a connection. Just because a person is in a relationship does not mean that he should stop building relations with others. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; As can be seen, there is a movement towards a higher value. This movement was not forced but it was something that resulted from love. I really do believe that love is a movement; that it is a progression. It is not stagnant. It does not stop at one point. A belief that love will settle down at some point is a recipe for disaster. People change. Time demands people to change. And if love doesn't keep up, it will be left behind. It's what I would associate the term “nagkasawaan”. Some couples grow tired of each other because love stopped progression. It's as if love reached a plateau and became stagnant. Love should never be left stagnant; there should be a movement towards something more valuable. Something greater than love. And that is the Absolute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I would like to think that love gives direction but it is the absolute that gives the meaning. Love alone is not sufficient to give life meaning but it does opens up a life to the Absolute, something more than the life itself. By Absolute, I do not mean God or Allah or any other deity. The Absolute is this thing that we aspire to reach. It's something that gives meaning to life. And the Absolute is not found in a place like heaven nor is it a state like nirvana. The Absolute is something greater than my self. It is the beyond and the ground of my person. Ground because it is what drives me to go out of myself and form relations with others and horizon because it is also the meaning of my life. Thus when I ask myself the question Who am I?, I am actually asking what is the meaning of my life and that answer is deeply rooted in the Absolute. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; But the question is, is the Absolute real or is it just a figment of someone's imagination? I have faith that it does. If there was no such thing as the Absolute, what would make a person reach out beyond his understanding? What would make him go out of himself and be more than he is? What would lead a person to ask the question: who am I?  Faith is the only verification that the Absolute needs. We don't know it's there and we don't even know if it exists but we believe it does. We are certain that there is a greater power out there. Something that gives our life meaning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I believe that we catch our first glimpse of the Absolute when we discover love. Not just romantic love but love in general. The reason why I emphasized romantic love was because it was the changing point of my life, not to mention that it is the most used example. Anyway, when we discover love, it gives us the opportunity to be something more than who we are. It seeks to unify and integrate our personhood so that we become something more, something outside ourselves. That's why almost all religions emphasized love. It was through love can we discover our “God” or to put simply the one which gives meaning to our lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Imagine a life without the Absolute. You can find a direction in love but there is no end to the road. You keep on walking and walking but to what purpose? You know you just have to keep walking but you don't know why. Eventually it gets tiring and you give up. Now, let's apply the Absolute to the example of the road. Think of the Absolute as your house at the end of the road. Love gave the direction and supplied the path. The Absolute is the house at the end. It is your destination. You walk the path with a purpose. There is a meaning in your endless trudge at the seemingly never-ending road. Yet you push on because at the end of it all, you know that there is something valuable at the end. Your home. And when you finally reach it, there is this satisfaction. A sense of fulfillment. Finally, you have come home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-114259477531023737?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/114259477531023737/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=114259477531023737&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/114259477531023737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/114259477531023737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2006/03/i-was-made-by-love-who-i-am-and.html' title='I Was Made by Love: Who I am and the Existence of the Absolute'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-114225701094004982</id><published>2006-03-13T21:19:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-03-13T21:36:51.160+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Shopping Depressed</title><content type='html'>Ever had that feeling that you badly wanted to buy something? You spent weeks being thrifty so that you could save enough money to buy that thing? And when that blessed day comes and you feel that in your heart that... "Yes. I can buy it. Finally, I could buy what I have been saving for..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then you take that step and go out to buy that thing that you have saved for. Of course, you bring someone along preferably a special someone, or your best friend or any of your close friend. But before you buy it, you have lunch. Then you watch a movie. All this you do so that the moment can build up. And once you take that step, you will be satisfied and content.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You take each careful and tentative step. Each step, you can hear the excitement beat in your ear. But then, there's this feeling of nervousness. A feeling of anxiety. It's so near and yet so far.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the end of the movie, time stops. You know this is the moment. You know this is the time of your greatest triumph; the accumulation of all your hardwork is just but a step away. And euphoria feels you. There is an anticipation of rapture. It's almost pre-orgasmic. This is it. This is your moment. The stars are aligned and your fortune is good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You step into the store with fierce anticipation. Your eyes darting like eagle for that oh so precious thing. You look to the left. And to the right. Nervousness creeps. Anxiety and dread slowly overcomes you. Where is it? Why can't I find it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, you turn to the saleslady. She's smiling at you. She's almost like your friend. You slowly approach her; your final salvation rests within this lady who has spent most of the day guarding the store. She is your final option. Your only hope in a store where you can't find what you're looking for. Finally, you muster up courage and asked the dreaded question: "Excuse me, may hinahanap po ako. Pakitulungan niyo po ako..." Then you start to describe the object with unfailing accuracy and with sincerity that will match a saint. The saleslady looks and asks the other people in the store. You wet your lips with anticipation. A trickle of sweat runs down your cheek. You silently pray that they have it in the stockroom somewhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, the saleslady, after much consideration, turns towards you and say... "I'm sorry. Out of stock na po. Check niyo na lang po mga next week..." Then, you swallow that lump stuck in your throat and say thank you. You walk away without saying a word, your heart crushed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bad trip noh?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-114225701094004982?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/114225701094004982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=114225701094004982&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/114225701094004982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/114225701094004982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2006/03/shopping-depressed.html' title='Shopping Depressed'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-113765616283963229</id><published>2006-01-19T15:19:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2006-01-19T15:36:02.876+08:00</updated><title type='text'>20</title><content type='html'>Wow. As in wow. I suddenly found myself not in the "teen" bracket this year. Gone were the days when I thought I would be a teenager for all eternity. Suddenly, I am now on the end of a second decade and beginning on a third. Soon, college would be ending and then medschool. Damn... I feel old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking back, what have I accomplished in 20 years of existence? What have I done to deserve to live? Well, I'm not really sure. But all I can say is I lived my life. I enjoyed it immensely and immersed myself in things and in worlds that some people don't know about. I lived a carefree life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't even care if what I did was good or bad. I just wanted to experience it. And be real with myself. Yep. That's how I was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do I have any regrets? It would be hypocritical for me to say no. I did things that were stupid; and things that were down right nasty. I'm not ashamed to say that I did not live or do not live a flawless life. Clean living is not for me. Definitely not. But yes. I do have regrets. I think regrets are products of choices that we have made. And I chose to live my life the way I want it to be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But hey, it was a fun life and it thought me a lot of things. But being 20 means that I have to face the challenges of a bigger world. I have to make sure of every step and I have to focus on the path that I am walking on. It entails more responsibilities and it entails me to make good choices. My life was a blast these past few years but I have to settle down now and go down to earth. Burdens will be a lot harder to carry, life would be more bumpy than it was. But you know what? I'm prepared to face it all because I learned some things living the way I did. I'm actually happy to take up the challenge. I'm ready to end being the future of humanity and begin building the present. The arrogance of youth is so sweet isn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next blog: The Top 20s of Everything&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-113765616283963229?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/113765616283963229/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=113765616283963229&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/113765616283963229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/113765616283963229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2006/01/20.html' title='20'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-113553239869234262</id><published>2005-12-26T01:38:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-12-26T01:39:58.703+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Heart is a Lonely Hunter: Dialogue Without Words</title><content type='html'>The movie tells about the story of a deaf-mute named John Singer (How ironic that a deaf-mute was named Singer) and his struggle to be heard, which ultimately ended with him taking his own life. This is a tragedy of someone who wanted to be heard but could not be or maybe people just didn't choose to hear what he had to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; John Singer had a loneliness with him brought about his conditions. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't express himself to people. Except for one. The most that he could have mutual dialogue is when he was with his deaf-mute friend. However, his friend was also somebody he could not achieve dialogue fully for his friend also suffered from some mental illness, making him childish. So when his friend died, what was left for John Singer? What was there more in his life now that he was fully shut off from the world?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Dialogue, as the movie says, is more than just words. It is a connection, an opening of one's being to a fellow human. A true and mutual dialogue is more than socializing. It was first and foremost, an interhuman exchange of one's being. It is to be aware of a person as a whole. Dialogue is not just words, it goes beyond words and on to acceptance of a person for who he/she really is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; In the movie, John Singer tried hard to engage a person into a dialogue with him. In fact, he, by opening himself up to others, engaged in a dialogue without words. However, all those he engaged did not engage him in dialogue. Each of the persons he “talked to” made him what they wished him to be rather than seeing him as he ought to be. That is that they unburdened him with confessions that Singer did not understand himself. As a result, those people did not understand Singer one bit. They thought they did but it was an illusion as shown by how perplexed they were when Singer took his own life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; They had engaged Singer in not dialogue but in a monologue. It was as if they were just talking to themselves. These people talked about their different problems but they did not listen to any of Singer's problems. In fact, they didn't even know that there was a problem with Singer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Although this is an extreme way of showing why true and mutual dialogue is important, it is also realistic. These things happen. How often do we meet an acquaintance and truly listened to what he/she really had to say? How often do we connect with our friends and see them as they truly are?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Oftentimes, we engage each other in monologues. We talk and talk and talk and talk but did we listen? Did we open up ourselves to that person or are we just going through the motions? &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; Talking is something that is done casually. We can't help it. “Man is a social animal” as said by the Dutch Philosopher and Theologian Baruch Spinoza. But then, as we all know, social does not translate to being interhuman. Social can get away with monologue but being interhuman can and will not. Interhuman needs genuine dialogue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; In the movie, there was no interhuman exchange. It is but one man's attempt at dialogue, which miserably failed because those he talked to did not even try to understand him. They only saw him they way they wanted and not the way he truly is. Somewhere out there, a person is attempting to make dialogue. That person may be someone we don't really know, a close friend, an acquaintance or it can even be us... me. When this happens, let's listen and let's understand what he has to say. For his/her sake and even for ours.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-113553239869234262?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/113553239869234262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=113553239869234262&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/113553239869234262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/113553239869234262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2005/12/heart-is-lonely-hunter-dialogue.html' title='The Heart is a Lonely Hunter: Dialogue Without Words'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-113281658672469372</id><published>2005-11-24T15:06:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-11-24T15:16:26.736+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Understanding Myself</title><content type='html'>It's been a long time since I have written anything. No poems, no stories and no blogs. Is it just because I'm busy with my life that I don't have any time left? or is it just simply a falling apart? Well, I don't really know. Maybe I'm not just feeling it. I can't understand it. Really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started writing about things ever since high school. It has been my shelter from the storms that have invaded my life. It was my escape from the harsh realities of life. The constant thing in my life when everything changes. My stop when the world says go. It was the little peace that I can offer myself when everything is just fucked up or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why do I rarely write nowadays?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it's because I'm already peaceful by my own. Maybe there's no need for shelter because I can weather out the storm. I guess that's it. I am now at peace with who I am. I am at peace with myself. Yes, I have my troubles but there is no need for escape now. There's no need to run anymore. I am enjoying the peace that I have been feeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then, I will still continue to write. If not for myself, then for others. Just maybe I could influence them to find their own voice, their own peace by what I write and by what I say. I had my time when I wrote to find who I am maybe it's time that I write so others may be inspired to write for the sake of finding who they are...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-113281658672469372?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/113281658672469372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=113281658672469372&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/113281658672469372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/113281658672469372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2005/11/understanding-myself.html' title='Understanding Myself'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-112948246936359571</id><published>2005-10-17T00:56:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-10-17T01:07:51.216+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Idle Speculation</title><content type='html'>I've always wonderedd what it would be like to be not me? You know, wondered if I could have done things differently. What would it be like to live the life that was supposed to be?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Would I:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;be living clean?&lt;br /&gt;not have done some wild things?&lt;br /&gt;feel emptiness?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are many questions and there were many decisions that made who I am now. And the fact is I don't have the answers. At leasr not concrete ones. The only thing I have is idle speculation. And I guess that would not be enough. I wouldn't know what I will be if I've done this or done that. I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I know is who I am. And quite possibly, who I might become. Let's focus on who I am. I am a collection of personalities that are so diverse that you might never know what personality I will be showing. I can be good, mean or whatever. It's all about my mood in that given situation. And yes. I have tremendous mood swings. It comes when people least expect it. Sometimes I'm even surprised at the sudden change but that's me. That's the truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And who I might become? Idle speculation...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-112948246936359571?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/112948246936359571/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=112948246936359571&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/112948246936359571'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/112948246936359571'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2005/10/idle-speculation.html' title='Idle Speculation'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-112805600268028514</id><published>2005-09-30T12:33:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-30T12:53:22.723+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Unbearable Silence</title><content type='html'>Everything is quiet once more. I retreat within myself and block out the noise of the computer room. I find myself utterly alone, not letting others penetrate the wall that I have built around myself. Here, in this place, silence is all that matters. No murmors, no sound of people typing on keyboards. Just silence. Pure silence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I begin reflecting on certain things in my created void. I begin to search out the answers to questions that I don't even know. I begin to search for the meaning of life and my true purpose for living. I reflect on who I really am. Throughout my life, I have gone through several metamorphosis. Flirt. Bum. Diligent student. Carefree soul. Lover. Fighter. I have been all these but who I really? Am I just a conflagaration of thoughts and actions or am I just worth something more?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can be who I want to be... but can I really? Can I change myself to what I want to be or does nature dictate what I can become. I try to find out. I try to give meaning to my life. To my existence. To my purpose. All this, in the void of silence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The silence breaks. I hear the constant sound of people typing. The murmurs of people talking. The shuffling of feet. I am again, a part of the world. Another person. Another statistic to add to a census or to a survey. My identity is lost amidst all the people of the world. To the world, I am just another kid typing at the keyboard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then, this effort to type and to struggle to be different separates me from all of the people. I find myself unique. I find myself struggling to live a life undoubtably my own. I struggle to exist. To be heard. To be known.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the silence and the void returns yet again and the cycle of thought starts again, uncomplete and neverending.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-112805600268028514?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/112805600268028514/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=112805600268028514&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/112805600268028514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/112805600268028514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2005/09/unbearable-silence.html' title='The Unbearable Silence'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-112712541403502965</id><published>2005-09-19T18:10:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-19T18:23:34.043+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Seriously Demented</title><content type='html'>Err... Hi. I don't know what the hell I'm writing or doing. Or whatever is in my f*cking mind. So, what am I going to talk about? I can't really say. I'm just typing, and typing and typing and typing and typing and typing yet again, and lest I forget, I'm still typing until a subject comes into my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Theo. Spemann. Roux. Driesch. Weismann. I. Hate. All. Of. You.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The theo paper is one big hassle&lt;br /&gt;I wish Dacanay just lived in a castle&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that he won't be a bother&lt;br /&gt;So my life will be filled with laughter&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whaaaaaaa... I think this is what I call the last days of the sem dementia where life just sucks. School just sucks. So bite me. I don't even care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;whoa. I'm getting grumpier. I'm getting seriously annoyed. Better step. Or maybe not. I'm on a roll here. I wrote poetry. Wow. Shucks. This is so damn amazing. Wahahahahahahahahaahahahaa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Switch to Filipino Mode*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Langya. Haha. Filipino na naman ang gagamitin ko. Ano ba ang nangyayari sa akin? ANO? Grrr... Bakit nga ba ako ganito. Tila parang nagwawala. Baka dahil sa dami ng ginagawa o ganito lang talaga ako?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weee.... Ganun. yun yun. Sana matapos na. Sana. Sana. Sana. Sana sembreak na. Buyset.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-112712541403502965?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/112712541403502965/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=112712541403502965&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/112712541403502965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/112712541403502965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2005/09/seriously-demented.html' title='Seriously Demented'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-112628438257074329</id><published>2005-09-10T00:34:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-10T00:46:22.576+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mahal Kita</title><content type='html'>“Mahal kita.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Hindi matangal sa isipan ko ang mga salitang binitawan mo. Mahirap bang tangapin iyon? Ewan ko ba. Ano nang gagawin ko?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Isang simpleng kawal lang ako ng mahal na Hari. Ang dugo ko ay walang halong dugong bughaw. Isang salita lang ang angkop sa taong katulad ko. Ordinaryo. Isa akong ordinaryong nilalang na nangarap na maabot ang langit. Ngunit ano ang napala ko? Wala.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Mahal kita”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Isa kang prinsesa at ako ay isang kawal. Hindi ba't parang kuwentong pambata? Isang prinsesa at ang kawal na magliligtas sa kanya. Pero totoong buhay ito. Hindi ito kuwento. Hindi laging tiyak kong masaya nga talaga ang katapusan. Pero, may katapusan. Yun ang natitiyak ko, Matatapos rin ito.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Ginawa ko ang lahat para mapansin mo pero wala pa rin. Kahit na ako ang naatasan ng hari upang maging guwardiya mo; ni isang tingin o isang salita wala akong narinig sa iyo. Wala man lang “magandang umaga” na nagmula sa matatamis mong labi. Para sa iyo, hindi ako nabubuhay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Pero nakuntento ako na panoorin ka na lang. Ang mga ginagawa mo tuwing kasama mo ang iyong amang hari. O hindi kaya, kung may handaan, pinapanood na lang kita habang sumasayaw ka kasama ng mga duke at mga prinsipe na galing sa kung saang lugar. Inaamin ko, naiingit ako. Ilang beses ko na bang naisip na sana ako ang kasayaw mo? Ilang beses ko na bang ipinangarap na makausap ka ng masinsinan? Ilang beses ko na bang pinanaginipan na halikan ang iyong labi? Haplusin ang iyong katawan... yakapin ka at maramdaman ang init ng iyong katawan. Tila, hanngang pangarap lang talaga ako. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Ngunit hindi ko pa rin matangap ang nangyari sa huli. Binabantayan ko ang pintuan ng iyong kuwarto ng napansin ko ang ingay na nagmumula sa iyong silid. Binuksan ko ng bahagya. At nagulat ako. Mayroong nakapatong sa iyo. May kasiping ka! Hindi mo alam kung paano nasira ang puso ko sa nangyaring iyon. Tila isang maselang salamin na nabasag sa maliliit na butil na kailanma'y hinda na mabubuo.  Pinanood ko na lang kayo. Inisip ko malamang isa siyang prinsipe. Pero, hindi pala. Hindi siya prinsipe, duke o isang tao na galing sa mayamang angkan. Isa siyang... utusan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Hindi mo alam kung ano ang naramdaman ko noon. Kalungkutan? Siguro. Pagkamuhi? Baka. Kawalan ng Pag-asa? Marahil nga. Nagdilim ang paningin ko. Noong nagkamalay ako, nakita ko ang sarili ko sa kuwarto mo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Mahal kita”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Natatawa. Naiiyak. Nababaliw. Dahil sa iyo. Dahil sa iyo, luha at dugo ay naglaho. Ikaw ang may kasalanan ng lahat! Ikaw at pag-ibig! Hindi ko maaaring hiwalay ang dalawa. Ikaw ang pag-ibig. Ang pag-ibig ay ikaw. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Ngayon, sinasabi mo na mahal mo ako? Pagkatapos ng lahat ng nangyari, may mukha ka pang ihaharap sa akin? Mahal kita. Mahal kita. Mahal kita. Mahal kita. Tumigil ka babae!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Ngunit, teka. Paano ka nga pala makakapagsalita? Patay ka na! Ang sarili kong espada ang pumatay sa iyo. Nararamdaman ko pa rin kung gaano kadaling pumasok ang espada sa iyong katawan. Walang kahirap-hirap. Nakita ko pa rin ang ekspresyon ng iyong mukha sa aking nagawa. Ang ganda ng mukha mo habang nasa bingit ka ng kamatayan. Tinangal ko ang espada sa iyong katawan at dahan dahan kang nahulog sa sahig. At narinig ko ang sarili kong nagsalita.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Mahal kita...”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-112628438257074329?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/112628438257074329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=112628438257074329&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/112628438257074329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/112628438257074329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2005/09/mahal-kita.html' title='Mahal Kita'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-112577170380741304</id><published>2005-09-04T01:48:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-09-04T02:25:14.446+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Day that was Sept 3.</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Anniversary&lt;/strong&gt; ko ngayon&lt;br /&gt;Three years na kami in fact. You know&lt;br /&gt;it's funny, it doesn't seem that long&lt;br /&gt;nor does it get tiring or old. More&lt;br /&gt;over, contentment has replaced the&lt;br /&gt;excitement of falling in love. We had&lt;br /&gt;lots of fun last Friday when we went&lt;br /&gt;to Eastwood. There was not much people&lt;br /&gt;there. We watched the Longest Yard. It&lt;br /&gt;was cool. After that, we had dinner at&lt;br /&gt;Something Fishy. Hay, I'm still in love.&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what will happen if I&lt;br /&gt;suddenly felt myself alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                                                                                            Ateneo &lt;strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Lost&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;                                            At the Blue Eagle Gym. To UST. To a team                                        who is at the bottom of the standings.                                  When Ateneo is losing (luckily they only                                        lost three times), they are too                                         frustrating to watch. Because when they                                        lose, there's no  &lt;strong&gt;HEART&lt;/strong&gt;, &lt;br /&gt;no &lt;strong&gt;PRIDE&lt;/strong&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;                                            From the way they lost, they don't even                                        deserve their 3rd place standing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                It was Bim's Debut. I had fun. I miss going to debuts. &lt;br /&gt;                I like going to debuts coz it celebrates something &lt;br /&gt;                special. I mean what could be better than seeing someone &lt;br /&gt;                grow into womanhood? A girl blossoms. And yeah, Bim looks &lt;br /&gt;                smashing. Damn, she looks pretty =). Anyway, we did the &lt;br /&gt;                Foxtrot as something for Bim. It was funny. I had so many &lt;br /&gt;                mistakes. The dance floor is too small. Candy, Ina and me &lt;br /&gt;                wanted to go to Shindig, an event happening in the Fort. &lt;br /&gt;                Problem is I had no change in clothes so I can't go. Candy &lt;br /&gt;                can't go either because of similar reasons. Only Ina went. &lt;br /&gt;                                       Too bad. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;      Lastly I saw some naked  guy  dancing  around  when  I  was  going  home&lt;br /&gt;                                     Weird  huh?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-112577170380741304?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/112577170380741304/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=112577170380741304&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/112577170380741304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/112577170380741304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2005/09/day-that-was-sept-3.html' title='The Day that was Sept 3.'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-112357008416364644</id><published>2005-08-09T14:25:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-08-09T14:48:04.173+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I am the Greatest</title><content type='html'>Jordan. Montana. Nicklaus. Ruth. Gretzky. These are the names of people who were called the greatest in their sporting fields. But the question is, why were they called the greatest? Is it because they had the talent? I don't really think so. It's all about the heart and coming through in the end when the whole world rides on yor shoulders.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These guys I mentioned above played with the world literally on their shoulders. They had the hype. Which they, by the way, not only matched but surpassed beyond everybody's wildest dream. I mean, who would you go for when you needed a gamewinning shot in basketball? or the game winning td pass? or the homer for  the world series? or the shot for the stanley cup? These are the guys you go to simply because you know that they had gone through all the pressure and came out the winner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This doesn't only apply in sports but also in life as well. The real great people are those who have heart to do what needs to be done. They know that they can do it no matter how impossible life may seem. They may stumble and fall. They may get hurt or get their hearts broken. But what they will never do is quit. They will continue on, despite the pain or what other people may say. They will do what they must and they will perform admirably. They will rise to the occasion and they will fight destiny if they have to. That's what makes them great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everybody has the potential in them to be great in whatever endeavor they choose. They just have to believe in their own capabilities; their capacity to do great things. Believe it can be done and it will be done. Nothing is impossible in this world. Impossibility does not exist. Conquer the grip of impossibility and helplesness, and you will rise higher than you could ever expect. Why? Because you are the greatest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am the greatest. Not because I have the superior strength or the superior intellect. I am the greatest because you can rely on me when it counts. I am the greatest because you can count on me to deliver. I won't let you down no matter what. I am the greatest because with me, you know you will win it all. And why? Because I have the heart. the fire. the dedication. Even if I stumble and fall, I will get back up and finish this. And win. Because I am the greatest.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-112357008416364644?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/112357008416364644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=112357008416364644&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/112357008416364644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/112357008416364644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2005/08/i-am-greatest.html' title='I am the Greatest'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-112261148332418533</id><published>2005-07-29T12:03:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-29T12:31:23.333+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Anne Rice</title><content type='html'>I was in my room resting just the other day when a certain book caught my eye. The title? Lasher. One of Anne Rice's book. I had already read it but it did not stop me from picking it up to read it again. It was a wonderful journey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thing that I liked about Anne Rice's books is that her characters is so alive. And they are so flawed and so perfect at the same time that you fall in love with her characters. Let me describe four of my most favorite characters from her stories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lestat de Lioncourt. The Brat Prince. He was described in Blood Canticle as "He has the looks of an angel and talks like a gangster". Lestat is a paradox more than anything else. He is neither villain nor hero but he is both. He wants to be a saint but he really can't. He wants to do what's right but at the same time he's main impulse is to kill. And yet, there is beauty in him because he has a conscience. A conscience but no soul as Stella Mayfair described him. That's it. He has no soul worth saving and he still has a conscience that's telling him what's right and what's wrong. But he can't follow his conscience. He can't because he is a vampire and darkness is his path.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mona Mayfair. The wanderslut. Devirgined at the age of 8 and bore a daughter at the age of 13. This girl once had a life long mission to have sex with all of her cousins. In her rational mind, there was nothing wrong with what she was doing. She was very beautiful and smart. And also, she was one of the most powerful witch in the Mayfair family. In a lot of ways, she is mature for her age. Seeing and accepting things for what they really are instead of living against false pretenses. I was glad she was saved at the end of Blackwood Farm. She and Quinn are just adorable as a couple.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rowan Mayfair. The mad scientistt. The backbone of the Mayfair family. She tries to busy herself in order to forget what happened to her past. She is an epitome of the modern woman. Strong when the need arises. But at the same time, there is a weakness to her that you can't help but love. However, her weakness is what gives her her strength. Mayfair Medical was a dream for her and in many ways it is also somehow connected to her weakness. She is what keeps the Mayfair family together. Never before in a character, had I seen an amazing resolve than what I found in her. Considering what she has gone through, it's throughly awe-inspiring what she is doing now. Yet I emphasize yet again that she is fragile in that she can break down anytime. And as Mona said about her. "Rowan Mayfair walks with God. And Mayfair Medical is her mountain."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, my favorite character of all. Marius de Romanus. The Child of the Millenia. The keeper of the parents. Here, we have a character that is wise and that is just to the point that his wisdom and his morality resulted into his loneliness. Yes, he had lived for around two thousand years and what had that given him? Loneliness. Perhaps, he is one of the loneliest characters I have ever come upon. Wise through experience and yet he has this loneliness which keeps him apart from those he loves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there you have it. Characters flawed beyond comparison and perfect beyond perfection. In some ways, I see myself as part of them. I can connect with them because in some ways, they reflect me and they are also a part of me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-112261148332418533?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/112261148332418533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=112261148332418533&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/112261148332418533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/112261148332418533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2005/07/anne-rice.html' title='Anne Rice'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-112151070977681926</id><published>2005-07-16T18:35:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-23T18:56:44.283+08:00</updated><title type='text'>"I love her but she doesn't love me!" (Misconceptions about Unrequited Love)</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;This is a paper me and my groupmates wrote. I'm very proud of this particular work, ^^&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Michael was a friend in high school and his is a story of unrequited love. For most of his years in high school, he was in love with Michelle. She was indeed pretty and she was nice. He had this far-away look with puppy dog eyes every time she passes by. It was not as if Michelle didn't know of his existence. On the contrary, they were friends. And Michael had already confessed his love when they were in second year. But the truth is, Michelle always looked at him as just a friend. It was in the end of second year that Michelle fell in love with Mark, one of the popular boys in school. Michael was all smiles telling everybody that he was happy for her but you can see it in his eyes that he was hurting inside. Third year came; Michelle and Mark began having trouble with their relationship and decided to cool-off. Instead of taking advantage of this, Michael helped them fix their relationship. After a few weeks, with the help of Michael, Mark and Michelle were together again. Every one of his friends said that he was chasing something that he couldn't catch. But he admitted that he was done chasing, rather he just wants her to be happy. Her happiness was what mattered to him.&lt;br /&gt;All this time, Mina, a friend of Michael, had feelings for him. Michael also liked her but he was too busy pining over Michelle. Soon, Mina got tired and frustrated in waiting, gave up on him. It was too late for Michael to realize he too had feelings for her. Mina already had a boyfriend. The last time I met him, he was still in love with Michelle.&lt;br /&gt;These predictable stories of boy-meets-girl and boy’s-heart-eventually-gets-trampled-by-the-tragedy-of-the-girl-being-already-“taken” always sell in movies. Perhaps it is because people find relief from seeing their personal woes on screen. In other words, people can relate to the misfortunes of the characters, proving that such calamities caused by unrequited love can happen to anybody, that they’re not alone in this love crusade—if one can actually call it “love” in the first place. &lt;br /&gt;Unrequited love is love unreturned, they say. It is love in a one-way process, or love coming from only one direction. Can love be love if it is not returned? No one has yet to get past the vastness and the depth of love to actually provide an adequate definition for it. Scott Peck, however, defined love, as the will to extend one’s self for the purpose of nurturing one’s own and another’s spiritual growth. Defined in terms of its goal or purpose, love allows for the growth the person being loved, with the same importance as the love of a person for himself/herself. Love should not keep one from growth, but rather, encourage it and allow it to blossom. In Michael's story, his world revolved around Michelle a little too much to leave some for himself. At one point, he may be defiant in saying that Michelle’s happiness is his happiness too. However, in the four years that he spent doting on Michelle, it seems that his dream to be with her had remained a “vision” and nothing more. What he feels is “love” is only but a desire to love, a love unrequited, when love should be an act of reciprocity—a two-way process. His strong emotions for Michelle actually hindered him from making the choice to love another. What might have been a chance for him to grow spiritually was neglected, as well as the chance for another person, Mina, to grow as well. Despite his efforts to help Michelle achieve happiness and claiming it as his own happiness as well, one can’t help but think how this could actually help Michael. He had to force himself to be happy just the same, instead of acknowledging that with Mina, real love can actually grow. &lt;br /&gt;Michael had fallen in love with Michelle. Falling in love is like being trapped under a spell, or living in a dream, the way it happens in fairy tales. In such stories the characters are completely content with where they are, that they can’t help but say, “If this is a dream, then I don’t ever want to wake up again.” Love should not be an excuse to escape the harsh realities of the world, or a replacement of what is real. Love should be the reason for us to grow from these experiences, and share what we have learned for another person’s growth as well.&lt;br /&gt;  Unrequited love is born out of believing in romantic love. Romantic love is what keeps people loving someone who don’t love them; it's what makes them hang on, so to speak.&lt;br /&gt; In romantic love, everything is blown out of proportions. There would always be an “ever after” where in fact, it doesn't happen very often. In unrequited love, people too are masked with illusions. The one they supposedly love is perfect and if he/she gets the one he/she wants then everything would turn out fine. That's why they keep holding on. The sacrifice is worth it and in the end everything would be all right if they get the ones they love.&lt;br /&gt; It is the illusion that there is destiny when it comes to love; there love was meant to be. This is one of the major reasons why unrequited “love” exists. Those who are in this position disregard the free will of choosing one owns partner. They know deep in their hearts that it is meant so they await the days, the weeks, and sometimes even the years. So much so, that sometimes they fail to realize that someone they like has chosen to love them.&lt;br /&gt; Love is a choice and it is realistic, unrequited love is not both.&lt;br /&gt; Unrequited love is not love in the strictest sense. Hopeless romantics misunderstand it as love because of the “giving” and “loving” feeling that they experience towards the man or woman they pursue. It is not love because it does not involve the nourishment of the spiritual growth of both parties. However, thinking about it a little bit more; one couldn’t help but ask if a relationship does exist. This is because there is no chance for spiritual growth for both parties in such relationships. In general, especially in the setting of our traditional Filipino culture, it is the man who pursues or courts the girl. And in such scenarios, the man usually gives her gifts, flowers, etc. to please her and to show her how much he loves her. Furthermore, he tries to be with her as often as possible and offers his service to her to the point that he no longer has energy and time for himself. Such men think of their actions as acts of love to their beloved. Self-sacrifice is a common misconception of love. In relation to unrequited “love”, the people who make martyrs of themselves for their loved ones do not show genuine love to the other party involved because spiritual growth is absent.&lt;br /&gt; Another point that disqualifies unrequited “love” from being characterized as a kind of love is the concept of love as a feeling. This is very common especially today where adolescents and adults want to do a lot of things as quickly as possible. As a result, they have no time to reflect and think carefully about their actions; even love is rushed. They act on their feelings and not their wills. Most people usually say: “It is always good to rely on your gut feeling,” which is arguable on the grounds of genuine love. The will is important because only humans have will. Thus, only humans have the capacity to love while animals don’t. The will is a more stable ground for determining whom to love. People who experience unrequited “love” are blinded by their feelings, leading them to allow themselves to get hurt in the process. In short, it is their feelings that guide their actions. They do not exercise their free will and choose for themselves the proper thing to do in order to show genuine love. It is as if they have become animals that rely on feelings and instincts and eventually not having the capacity to truly love. As humans, we should be intelligent enough to know that there are other people who deserve our love more and that we should direct ourselves to such people because as mentioned in the article “our capacity to love is limited”. Acting or loving based on feelings alone would not allow the nourishment of spiritual growth. It would only lead to a blind act of selfless and meaningless desire to feel loved in return. &lt;br /&gt;  If unrequited love is not love, then what is it? People feeling “unrequited love” for another person have a feeling of dependency on that person. When they feel this love-that-is-not-love-at-all, they develop this infatuation with another person so much so that they fully offer their attention, time, and effort with the blind idea that that person would love when in reality there would be little or no chance of such an occurrence. It could be said that that person is “dependent” on the idea that he would be loved by the object of his affection. As Scott Peck mentioned, this behavior would be classified as the “passive dependent personality disorder”. People who feel that their love is unreciprocated yet they persevere in the idea are classified to this disorder. They feel that a part of them is missing but the idea or rather dream of being with that certain person would fill their void. They are dependent in such a way that they love this person because it would give them purpose and still do it even if it’s unreturned. It may seem so simple but is rather complicated as this “unrequited love” is a result of the way they were raised or other various circumstances. &lt;br /&gt; The feeling of unrequited love can lead to depression, transitions between euphoria and depression, and anxiety. Also, it can result to obsessive behavior, which will then lead to hostility to the one he “loves”. Stalking would therefore follow. Abnormal psychology dictates that people who experience unrequited love are more likely to become obsessive bipolar people. That is to say that they can go from manic episodes when they see their object of desire to periods of depression when they think that they have no chance with that certain person. They are obsessive because they would have tendencies of stalking and that may eventually lead to homicidal acts in the “If I can’t have you, no one will!” sense. &lt;br /&gt; In lieu of this, unrequited love is not healthy because it does not help both parties involved grow even though there’s the will and the effort to do so.  Therefore, it is not genuine.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-112151070977681926?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/112151070977681926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=112151070977681926&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/112151070977681926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/112151070977681926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2005/07/i-love-her-but-she-doesnt-love-me.html' title='&quot;I love her but she doesn&apos;t love me!&quot; (Misconceptions about Unrequited Love)'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-112141465829745861</id><published>2005-07-15T15:43:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-07-15T16:04:18.306+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Random Thoughts</title><content type='html'>For the past few days, I had many ideas concerning what I wil write here. Sadly, as I sit and stare at the monitor, words elude me. I am left pondering at how such clear thoughts escaped my grasp. It was not as if I'm trying too hard to remember. No, I don't even try. I have always believed in losing myself in my writing. What I mean is I'm the kind of person that goes into a zone when I write. That's why I can fill up 2 to 3 pages easily. Because I am inspired to write. Where do I get this inspiration? From everywhere. I look around and there is so much to see, so much to write about. There are endless possibilities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And being a subject like most persons, I open myself up to the infinite. I open myself up to the abundance of possibilities out there. There are so many places to see and so many things to experience that an entire human lifetime is not adequate to see all that there is. All things light and all that is good can be seen but yet what we see is but a spectre of reality. We can not fully attempt to see the whole of reality simply because it is too vast a thing. We can see certain aspects of reality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take for example love. Who can ever say that they have experienced and known all that is there to know about love? Love can be everything and it can be nothing. It can grant your wildest dreams and it can be your worst nightmare. It is all of this things and yet it is beyond it. Love is even beyond itself. That's right. Love has its subjectivity. Do we even know its full scope and full length? No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are scarred creatures, fallen out of grace and living in an imperfect world. Yet, love is what gives us hope for a brighter future. It allows us a momentary glimpse of what paradise is. We are a fallen race and none of us may ever rise up again to our perfect state. If you ask me, that is a blessing. Who would want to be perfect? I don't. For being perfect means that we have nothing to look forward to. The meaning in our life is set and we are happy. And that's very damn boring. It is the conflict within ourselves and with others and even the whole world which makes our lives interesting. It is chaos that truly makes us who we are. Chaos is what strenghtens us and what may ultimately save us. It is in the disorder and disequilibrium of things where we understand the true meaning of peace, and a life fulfilled. I don't want to be perfect because imperfection gives me an edge. The scars I keep and the hurt that I keep hidden makes me rise above everything. It is what makes me me. In a chaotic world, an imperfect being has the edge. An imperfect being doesn't hide in the false security of hope; he faces all that there is and he is realistic. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The world is chaotic. It is real. An imperfect being understands its repurcussions and consequences. That is what we are no matter how hard we try to deny it. We are God's fallen creatures and we shall never rise again in such splendor. We will forever wallow in the depths of the earth far from the light that protects us. Darkness is all around us and surrounds us. And it is the darkness that gives us hope. We live in the darkness of our own hearts and it tries to conquer us everyday and in the end, we might all give in to the darkness.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-112141465829745861?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/112141465829745861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=112141465829745861&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/112141465829745861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/112141465829745861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2005/07/random-thoughts.html' title='Random Thoughts'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-112013864233884647</id><published>2005-06-30T21:22:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-30T21:44:33.716+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Madramang Buhay</title><content type='html'>Oo. Madrama buhay ko. Hindi ko pagkakaila. Marami akong nagawa sa buhay ko na hindi ko dapat nagawa. Dahil sa mga katarantaduhan at mga maling desisyon, nasaktan ko ang sarili ko at mahigit sa lahat, ang mga taong nagmamahal sa akin. Teka, meron nga ba? Ang isang katulad ko ba ay nararapat na mahalin? Nararapat ba ako sa pagmamahal na ibibigay, ibinigay at ibinibigay sa akin? Hindi ko alam. Hindi ko maintindihan ang sarili ko. Sa totoo lang, hindi ko alam kung sino talaga ako. Masyado ng maraming maskara, masyado na maraming tinatago. Minsan talaga, hindi mo na alam kung ano ang maskara at kung ano ang totoong itsura. Ang maskara ay ako at ako ay ang maskara. Pero ang tanong, mas gusto ko ba ang maskara kaysa sa tunay na ako. Yun ang tanong na wala akong kasagutan. Lol. Haha. Buong buhay ko, naghahanap ako ng kasagutan sa isang tanong na hindi ko alam. Ano nga ba hinahanap ko? Ano nga ba ang gusto kong sabihin at ipahiwatig? Ah. Ewan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Madrama buhay ko. Hindi na mabiling ang mga karanasan kung kailan ako umiyak. Maraming luha, maraming drama. Hindi ako iyakin, madrama lang. Isipin mo kung gulong gulo ka sa buhay at wala kang magawa, anong gagawin mo? Ano gagawin mo kapag tinalikuran ka ng mundo at lahat ng iyong paniniwalaan? Ano gagawin mo kung naririnig mo ang pagkawasak ng puso mo dahil sa mga salitang "hindi na kita mahal?" Ano gagawin mo kung nawala sa piling mo ang babaeng mahal mo ng buong puso dahil sa iyong katorpehan? Pero, napunta nga ba siya sa piling mo o isa lamang panaginip ang lahat ng mga ito? Sa totoo. Wala kang magagawa. Wasak ang buhay mo. Kailangan mo umiyak upang ilabas ang lahat ng sama ng loob. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Madrama ang buhay ko. Sa sobrang kadramahan, naisipan kong magpakamatay. Pero, hindi ko magawa. Bakit? Kasi takot ako. Kaya ano ginawa ko? Sinaktan ko na lang ang sarili ko. Laslas. Sinubukang lunurin ang sarili sa beer. Panakip butas lang para sa isang taong walang laman. Sa isang taong walang dahilan ang buhay. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oo. Madrama ako. Pero totoo nga ba lahat ng sinabi ko? Ewan. Basta. Madrama ako.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-112013864233884647?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/112013864233884647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=112013864233884647&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/112013864233884647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/112013864233884647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2005/06/madramang-buhay.html' title='Madramang Buhay'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-112003004736777237</id><published>2005-06-29T15:16:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-29T15:27:27.883+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ulan</title><content type='html'>Kahit noong bata pa ako, aliw aliw ako sa ulan. Naalala ko pa, kapag umuulan lagi akong nasa labas, naliligo. Nakakaaliw. Kahit ambon lang nasa labas na ako nagpapakabasa, kahit bagyo, nasa labas rin ako. Kaso na-trauma na ako nung 7 years old ako sa pagligo sa ulan. Palibhasa, bumabagyo noon. Masayang masaya akong naglalaro ng biglang nabali sanga nung puno ng bayabas nung kapitbahay namin. At dahil malakas ang hangin, lumipad ang sanga at tinamaan ako. Marahil kaya ako naging sira-ulo dahil sa pangyayaring iyon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ngayon, flashback sa pagbibinata. Highschool. Unang pag-ibig. Unang pagwasak ng puso. Naglalakad ako pauwi ng biglang umulan. Lahat ng kasama ko nagsitakbuhan. At ako? Naglalakad ng dahan-dahan at nag-iisip. Walang pakialam sa ulan. Pero bigla akong napaluha at umiyak dahil sa sakit na nadarama. Napansin ko, hindi lang pala ako umiiyak, pati ang langit umiiyak. Para bang sinasamahan niya akong umiyak. Parang sinasabi niya: "Pare, hindi ka nag-iisa?" Langya... Nasisiraan na ata talaga ako.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pero seryoso, napamahal na ako sa pagpatak ng ulan. Hindi ko alam kung bakit pero mapayapa ako tuwing umuulan. Marahil ay dahil kumakatawan ito sa paglinis ng lupa o hindi kaya dahil masarap talagang umiyak tuwing umuulan dahil hindi halata. O baka, sira na talaga ulo ko...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-112003004736777237?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/112003004736777237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=112003004736777237&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/112003004736777237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/112003004736777237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2005/06/ulan.html' title='Ulan'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-111963258399205393</id><published>2005-06-25T00:39:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-25T01:03:04.030+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Empty</title><content type='html'>Emptiness has always been an important aspect of my life. Empty dreams and empty promises. Emptiness has been the driving force in my life ever since God knows when. I had always felt empty; devoid of anything. This was what drove me to be me. It just didn't define me, it became me. I became the emptiness itself and it sickened me. Well, maybe sickened is too strong a word. Let's just say I didn't want to feel empty for the rest of my life. I mean who would?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first thing I did was to drown out the emptiness. Get myself drunk to the point that being empty didn't matter anymore. That it didn't make a difference. It was like a depressant or rather it helped me let out all those pent-up feelings. And there was a lot. Pain. Despair. Sadness. It was good for a while but it couldn't last. The feeling of it was too damn short.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next thing that I did was to smoke it out. Every puff of smoke made my angst and my emptiness lessened a bit. Yet the emptiness was still there. It was there and it will always be there. Smoking was not the answer I was looking for. So I turned to other things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried out the night life scene. It was so mind numbing and it was so good that it made me forget who I am. When I am hanging in a bar, I was this totally different person. Or maybe a person who has lost all inhibitions. I drank too much and I flirted. I was confident that I could have my own pick of girls. Again, this was to remove the emptiness. To feel human. To feel. It worked for a time but it didn't last.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I tried different things just for the thrill of it. It was hopping from one thrill to the next. From this to that. From ganja to whatever. It was as if every thing I did, I did for the thrill. To feel the blood pumping in my veins. Every thing was just to make me feel alive. And I found out that the time where I feel most alive, when I feel the most, was when I was either at the jaws of death or very damn near it. It was thrilling to know that you hold your own life in your hands. Every knife slash, a little more of your life slowly slips from you. I still hear the sound of my very blood dropping the first time the cold steel penetrated the flesh of my hands. Drip. Drip. It was like music to my ears. The crimson color gave me ecstacy beyond the wildest of dreams. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hurt myself because I thought that was the only way I can feel truly alive. The pain it gave me was my connection to life. It was exquisite. I was thirsty and my own blood was the elixir from which I drank.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those were dark dark times for me. It was the most vulberable time of my life. And I share a few of it now for the sake of my soul.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-111963258399205393?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/111963258399205393/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=111963258399205393&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/111963258399205393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/111963258399205393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2005/06/empty.html' title='Empty'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-111958544333590403</id><published>2005-06-24T11:28:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-24T11:57:23.350+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Genetics and Racism</title><content type='html'>Genetics and Racism. Doesn't exactly sound like they have much in common huh? It's like oil and water. Or maybe like heaven and hell. Or whatever polar opposites you can think about. But in fact, they do mix. They are compatible. They do have this very deep connection that you probably didn't know. Genetics have a lot to do with racism. So, you're asking, what the hell is this guy saying? What the hell is his point?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The point is, the reason why we're all different, the reason why we're black, white, yellow or whatever, is totally based on genetics. Have you heard of the human genome? Well, if you haven't (or if you just forgot), it is the sum of all the genetic traits an individual has. And yes, this determines if you are black, white, yellow, orange (?) or whatever color you want. Basically, it decides how different we are or how similar we are. So, how different are we?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, with a little research and a little patience you will know that the difference between you, the person on your left and the person on your right would be 0.1%. Ain't that something? The person on your left might be the most handsome guy on the planet and the person on your right might just be as handsome as a cockroach and yet you three only have a 0.1% difference. Funny right? Maybe. But to racism, it is a very big blow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, racism is supposed to be about thinking that one race is more superior than others. Caucasians are better than the negroids, blah blah blah and all that shit. Now, when you think that every person is separated by only 0.1%, racism seems so stupid. I mean, what the hell are racists fighting for? 0.1% of superiority? It is laughable and it is just stupid. I mean, does 0.1% mean a thing to you? To me it doesn't. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But being 99.9% similar means a whole lot to me. Now more than ever, we should show a unified front. Now more than ever do we need to let our biases go. We are similar. Our genes say so. Our DNA says so. Genetics say so. Science says so. Just relax a bit. Don't shun another person just because he/she just looks so totally different than you. Because, no matter what your eyes see, you are both similar 99.9%.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-111958544333590403?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/111958544333590403/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=111958544333590403&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/111958544333590403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/111958544333590403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2005/06/genetics-and-racism.html' title='Genetics and Racism'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-111916234837583316</id><published>2005-06-19T14:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-19T14:25:48.386+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Batman Begins</title><content type='html'>I just watched Batman Begins last night and I must say, it's one of the best batman movies I've seen. This is how Batman movies should be. Dark. Very Dark. It is refreshing to know that the myth that is Batman was thoroughly explained in the said movie. It covered all bases including why did Bruce Wayne chose the bat as his symbol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But most of all I liked it because it humanized the name we all know as Batman and Bruce Wayne. It showed that Bruce Wayne is not just some pretty boy playboy billionaire and Batman was not some dark and depressed crime-fighting dude wearing a ridiculous custome. It gave Bruce Wayne his heart and it gave Batman his reason for fighting. Also Alfred, the butler, was given a more central role in Master Bruce's life. He was more than just a butler, he was more like a father figure for Bruce. He was portrayed as his pillar of strength.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The choice of supporting actors were good. Liam Neeson was superb as Bruce's mentor. I guess some of his Qui-Gon Jin persona rubbed off on his character in Batman. Michael Caine, one of the finest actors I have seen, was truly good. He was witty and charming. He even beat out Christian Bale to the point that people might think he was the master of the house and Bruce was his butler. Morgan Freeman was excellent as usual. And the guy that starred as Morgan Edge in Smallville was also good. Christian Bale is a good actor but I didn't think he was a good fit for Bruce Wayne. Yes, he was perfect as Batman but he isn't passable as a billionaire playboy. He has too many rough edges on his face. Katie Homes was... well... ok I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, this was how every Batman should have been. Dark with powerful story telling.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-111916234837583316?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/111916234837583316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=111916234837583316&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/111916234837583316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/111916234837583316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2005/06/batman-begins.html' title='Batman Begins'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-111902388155740210</id><published>2005-06-17T23:49:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-17T23:58:01.566+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dahon</title><content type='html'>Minsan, napadaan ako sa isang parke&lt;br /&gt;Ang ganda, madaming puno sa lahat ng parte&lt;br /&gt;Ako ay naupo sa isang tabi&lt;br /&gt;Sa aking kamanghaan, bumukas ang aking labi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sa parke, ang puso ko ay masaya&lt;br /&gt;Ang tanawin, nagbibigay ng angking ligaya&lt;br /&gt;Mga tao'y pinapanood habang dumadaan&lt;br /&gt;Meron kaya silang patutunguhan?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sa aking mga paa, may dumapong dahon&lt;br /&gt;Hinawakan ko, pinagmasdan ko ito&lt;br /&gt;Pero biglang nakuha nang ihip ng panahon&lt;br /&gt;Mga tanong biglang pumasok sa isipan ko&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Masaya ka ba sa buhay mo?&lt;br /&gt;O lagi mo na lang tinatanong, bakit ganito?&lt;br /&gt;Ikaw ba ang kumokontral sa iyong buhay&lt;br /&gt;O ang iyong buhay sa kapalaran inialay?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-111902388155740210?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/111902388155740210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=111902388155740210&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/111902388155740210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/111902388155740210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2005/06/dahon.html' title='Dahon'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-111872222346067355</id><published>2005-06-14T11:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-14T16:02:18.830+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Why I have to take a break from RB, and from Fanfare</title><content type='html'>First of all, let me apologize for leaving all of a sudden. I don't like messy good byes anyway. Sorry for the people reading Promise of a Fallen Angel. You'll have to wait for it longer. But I will finish it. I will finish what I have started. I just had to take a break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, why do I have to take a break? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Believe me, I would not do this if it was not necessary for me. I like to write. No, make that I love to write. And of all the styles, fiction is my favorite. Everytime I write fiction, it transports me to a world in which the choices for a happy ending is decided by the characters themselves. It helps me break free from the rigors of daily life. So it is with a heavy heart that I take off the mantle of creativity for a while and lay down the pen for the sake of the pen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes. I'm taking a break from writing for the sake of writing. I am at the crossroads in my life where I'm askin myself, "Is there something more for me besides writing fanfiction? Is there something more I would like to accomplish?" In my break, I would try to find my answers. And I could not do it while I'm still writing. Afterall, I would not be stuck writing fanfiction forever. So where will the road take me? What will come next to my life? This is the heart of my writing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writing, in the past, has always been about doing my own stuff and judging by my own standards. Yet with each new story I post and each story that I create, I let others in my own world. And what they may see or what they may find in there, scares me. Can my standards live up to their own set of standards? I don't really know. And I do really care. No matter what I say, I care about what people say about what I write and about what they think. It is the world that I created after all. This I call, crisis of my writing soul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, I realized that I was getting better at writing. I was getting good. Yet, when I read what I write, I see less passion in it than the day I started writing fiction. It was all technical. It was all about how the story presents itself. It was as if there is no more room for mistakes anymore. That everything had to be perfect. It was cold, hard logic. It was as if I was becoming more of a robot than human. I had to do this for the sake of the story. I have to write this. Have Have Have. There was no more "want". If there is, it only exists in a very minute form.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lastly, when I joined the community of writers in RB, it felt like a community. Each writer aims to help new writers (like me ^^ I still consider myself a noob at writing by the way) to grow as a writer. But as thing stands now, I don't see the warmth and I don't see the caring. All I see are harsh reviews which discourages rather than encourage. And when these new writers try to fight back, they always end up as the bad guy. "they can't handle it" "You're lucky you're fic has even been reviewed". That is bullshit. Every writer has the right to defend their works and themselves if they feel that what the critic/reviewer says is wrong. They have the right to be angry when someone calls their fic "trash" or "crappy". Otherwise, they don't deserve to write. You have got to take pride in your writing no matter what people say. Critics in RB are hanging by a delicate thread between flaming and harsh reviews. Writers will lash out. Writers will retaliate as long as they are being attacked. It's not safe to post a fic written out of whim or out of fun. Grammar has to be damn perfect, plots have to be so damn original, etc. Because if it ever gets reviewed, it's going to go down in flames very rapidly. There's no room for errors anymore. I don't mind harsh reviews as long as it tells me that I could be better. That I could improve. But the way I see it, most of the reviews that I see are aiming to shoot down some person's dream of writing. It's a sad day when reviewers aim to shoot down the hopes of aspiring writers. I don't want to go down that way. I don't want to be harsh nor do I want to be insensitive or oblivious to what is happening. I want to ecourage not discourage. I want to say to a noob writer that "you can be good." I don't want to do harsh reviews but slowly I find myself walking down that path. So I have to stop. I don't want to do harsh reviews bordering on flaming. I want to make a review that helps and encourages. And, I don't know if I can anymore. I have been jaded. I'm lost. What is happening now in fanfare is changing me. And I don't like the change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that's it. I'm sorry if anything I said was offensive to anyone. Anyway, I will be present from time to time (mainly to read aThousandOceans' story and hellkai's story just to name a few) but I won't post, nor will I write for at least 2-3 months. That is the time I have set for myself. After that, well let's just wait and see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. If anybody needs me, ym lang kayo. imperfect_932 ^_^&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-111872222346067355?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/111872222346067355/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=111872222346067355&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/111872222346067355'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/111872222346067355'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2005/06/why-i-have-to-take-break-from-rb-and.html' title='Why I have to take a break from RB, and from Fanfare'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-111857667533400660</id><published>2005-06-12T18:53:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-12T19:44:35.363+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Kuwentuhang Bilyaran</title><content type='html'>"Pare. Sargo mo na." sabay hithit ng yosi. Pagkahithit, kinuha ang lights sa tabi, sabay inom. "Ano pare, may pumasok ba?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Dos dude." Kumuha ng chalk sa isang tabi at naglagay sa kamay. Kinuha ang tisa at nilinis ang cue stick. "Tres sa kanto."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Alam mo pare, malas talaga ako. Sa buhay, sa lovelife." Hithit na naman ng yosi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Bakit mo naman nasabi? Oo nga pala. Stripes ka." Tisa na naman. Sabay pumorma para tumira.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ala lang. Alam mo naman buhay ko... sabog." Kinuha ang beer sa tabi sabay inom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Haha. Lahat naman tayo sabog ang buhay eh. Ikaw na nga pala. Stripes ka." Umupo siya sa isang tabi at kinuha ng bote ng lights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sige. Nax, placing pa. Pinahirapan mo pa ako, gago." sabay tawa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Haha. Banda mo na lang. Teka, bakit nga ba malas ka sa lovelife? Kala ko ba ayos na nililigawan mo?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sige na nga. Akala ko nga rin ayos na eh."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nax. Pumasok ang banda ah. Ano nga ba nangyari?" Ininom ang beer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Binasted ako pare eh. Sakit pare."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ouch. Ang sakit naman. Bakit naman daw?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Putek yan. Hindi kumapit. Haha. Ikaw na dude." Kuha ng yosi sabay hithit uli.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ok. Haha. Tingan mo to pare. Jump shot."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Tangna. Galing ah. La ka na bang inatupag kung hindi magbilyar?" Ubos na ang yosi. Kumuha uli at sinindihan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Haha. Hindi naman. So, ano nga nangyari? Bakit ka binasted?" Pumoporma na naman para tumira.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You're not the right one for me. Daw. Bullshit pare. Kung ano-ano na binigay ko sa kanya. 6 na buwan na panliligaw tapos you're not right for me? Putangina. Mali naman ata yun." Sabay lagok ng lights. Ubos. "Boss, isang lights pa dito!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Langya. Foul nga pare. Anak ng... Mali ang preparasyon. Tsk tsk."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hina ng batak mo eh. Mintis. Talo ka na dude." Dumadating ang waiter. Kinuha niya ang beer sabay inom ng kaunti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Haha. Tingnan natin dude." Sabay upo at inom ng beer niya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ikaw dude, musta love life. Kayo pa rin ba?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oo naman. Going strong. Nax. Binubuhos lahat ng galit ah."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Haha. Langyang babae yan eh. Binasag pa puso ko. Hay... Kailan kaya ako liligaya? Siyanga pala pare, gaano na nga pala kayo katagal?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Makakahanap ka rin pare. Mag tatatlong taon na kami."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nax. Swerte mo naman dude. Going strong. Jackpot ka pare. Maganda na, mabait pa gf mo. Ano nga ba sekreto mo at tumagal kayo dude? Otso, sa dulo."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hindi ko nga alam pare eh. Haha. Pero tumagal kami. Suwerte lang siguro. Nax naman. Inubos nga."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"haha. Dito lang ata ako magaling eh." Kinuha ang beer at inubos. "Ano pare, isa pa?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sige dude." Inom rin sabay sindi ng yosi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Set!!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-111857667533400660?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/111857667533400660/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=111857667533400660&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/111857667533400660'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/111857667533400660'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2005/06/kuwentuhang-bilyaran.html' title='Kuwentuhang Bilyaran'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-111831471334919639</id><published>2005-06-09T18:28:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-09T18:58:33.363+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Challenge</title><content type='html'>Well, school is about to start. I have mixed feelings about it. A part of me doesn't want it to come but a part of me is daring for it to come. A part of me wants to face the challenges. Oh yes. I have a tough schedule with tough professors. And it excites me. It excites me to no end. I have always liked being challenged. I thrive in it. It's all about the thrill. It's all about the challenge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, yes. I know. It's hard but I know I can do it. I'm that damn good. You're talking about a guy who's IQ is more than 100. A guy that averages 86-90% in highschool while sleeping in the classroom. A guy that is at his best when the pressure is at its highest. A guy that has a pick where he wants to go to college. The fact is, I can do anything I put my mind to. No matter if it's a trivial thing as a video game or as important as a final exam. I can be whomever I want to be. I can because I am good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know where I stand and I know my strengths and weaknesses. I have seen how low I can go. And I have seen what hell looks like. There is nothing left for me but to go up. The fact is, when you're down and out, there is no other way but to look up. Well, I have gone through that phase. I have been down. I have been beaten. And what it gave me is a resolve and a promise. Never again will I slide down. Never again will I fall that low. Never again. I am going up and there is nothing that can stop me. Not any professors nor any subject. The fact is there are no more limits for me. I am limitless. I can rise above any expectations. I can rise above any horizons. I can rise above any challenge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fact is, I am broken. I am scarred beyond your wildest belief. I am no angel. I am no goody two shoes. I have seen what evil can do to people. And I have seen false hope that leads to broken promises and broken lives. I have walked the darkest paths. And I have emerged with scars and cuts so deep that it has touched my soul. I walk the tight line of sanity. Any day, I can break. But it won't happen. I refuse to let it to happen. Perfection is the only thing left to me. It's my only refuge now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for me going from what I have gone through, I know one thing. I love a challenge. It gives me a thrill to be put in a situation where the pressure is so heavy that it could break an elephant's back. The challenge makes me feel alive. It keeps my blood pounding. You know why? Because I will succeed each and every time. Call me arrogant. Call me conceited. But above else, believe. Above else, know that I can do what I say I can. If you don't, care to make a wager you will eventually lose?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-111831471334919639?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/111831471334919639/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=111831471334919639&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/111831471334919639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/111831471334919639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2005/06/challenge.html' title='Challenge'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-111815224724738446</id><published>2005-06-07T21:41:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-07T21:50:47.253+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bumming Around</title><content type='html'>It's tuesday night. Summer break. Guess where I am? That's right. At home, typing this stupid blog. Why you ask? I have no money. No cash. Nothing. Not a single paper of money. Coins I have plenty of. But can you imagine paying to watch a movie with coins? or buying some drinks with coins? Hell no. I have no cash and I have nothing to do. Very very sad life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So you're asking, why the hell are you typing anyway? Because I want to! I want to, ok? Haha. I'm crazy. Crazy as hell. Yes. I'm a weirdo, I'm a psycho and worse of all, I'm just bumming around until school starts. This is cool. I'm writing about nothing and I'm actually making sense. Well, at least to my warped out psychotic mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am crazy. I am a bum. I am me. Yeah, it's cool to be me. imperfect out...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-111815224724738446?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/111815224724738446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=111815224724738446&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/111815224724738446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/111815224724738446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2005/06/bumming-around.html' title='Bumming Around'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-111771937700641985</id><published>2005-06-02T21:05:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-06-02T21:36:17.046+08:00</updated><title type='text'>"Go... You'll Ruin It"</title><content type='html'>I watched the movie "A Lot Like Love" last Wednesday with my girlfriend (yan baby, hindi na gf). It was good. And it prompted me to think about love and all its associations. It got me thinking so much that I had to write a blog about it. Anyway, here it goes. I have three lines from the movie that I consider the most moving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If you don't like to look stupid, you don't deserve to be in love," a line from the movie said. I thought about it and I know it to be true. When we are in love, we do crazy things. How many times did we do something we never thought we could just for the sake of love? How many times did we do something stupid just to make him/her notice us? It's just comes with the territory. It comes with loving. People are most stupid when they are in love. Yep. It's true. But it's a sweet kind of stupid. I mean, doing things for someone you love is sweet and stupid at the same time. Hehe. People in love are stupid because they are blinded by love. Logic and reason are thrown out the window when love comes knocking. Once love has us in her grip, we are never the same again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How can I be there for her if I don't have my own thing figured out?" It's a question that I asked myself before starting a new relationship. But what is this "thing?" that we are talking about? Well, it actually depends on the person. But do we really have to figure things out before being there for someone we love? I say, no. You can always be there for someone we love even if we don't have our "thing" figured out. It doesn't matter. You can always figure your thing out with someone you love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, my fav line. "Go... You'll ruin it." It appeals to me simply because it's a beautiful thing to say. It's also kina sad. I loved it everytime Emily said it because it was truly heartfelt. It means that there are no words sufficient anymore. We just have to leave when it's time. When there are some things that we need to do before committing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Indeed, the movie is a lot like love. But what is love? When do we know that we really are in love? We don't know for sure. We may be engaged for someone for god knows how many years but still, we may not be sure. The thing is, to know love is taking risks. But is love enough? Nope. It's romantic but not entirely realistic. No, there are many things that contribute to a relationship. Understanding, trust. There are many things involved. Love is never enough. It will never be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-111771937700641985?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/111771937700641985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=111771937700641985&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/111771937700641985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/111771937700641985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2005/06/go-youll-ruin-it.html' title='&quot;Go... You&apos;ll Ruin It&quot;'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-111750972929862445</id><published>2005-05-31T10:47:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-31T11:22:09.306+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pagbabalik-alaala, Ikalawang Kabanata - Barkada</title><content type='html'>Naaala mo pa ba ang mga kaibigan mo nung highskul? Yung kasama mo tuwing lalabas ka o kaya kung gusto mo lang tumambay kung saan saan? Ito ang iyong barkada. Ang iyong mga kaibigan at ang iyong pamilya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sila ang nagbibigay saya sa inyong buhay tuwing break sa klase. Ang mga kaibigang alam mong tatangapin ka kahit anong gawin mo. Ang mga kaibigang alam mo na andyan lang, naghihintay ng tawag o text mo. Mga kaibigang maaasahan. Mga kaibigang puwede moong hatian ng saya o lungkot. Ito ang barkada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Naalala ko pa barkada ko noon. Mga tambay sa lounge. Hehe. Nagkukuwentuhan, gumagawa ng sari-saring kalokohan, nagtatawanan, nag-aaral (talaga?), at kung ano ano pa. Walang pangalan tropa namin. Hindi na naman kailangan. Palibhasa sobrang magkakaiba kami eh. Mga taong naging barkada dahil sa tadhana (nax! ang lupet pakinggan.) Ito ang aking barkada. Si Cris, si Cel, si Kat, Si Cuy, Si Don, Si Rowlp, Si Pau, Si Chloe, Si Mac, Si Jong, Si Jeremy at siyempre, ako. Hehe. Hayaan niyong isa-isahin ko sila.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si Cris. Taga-St. Benilde. Mabait at laging nakasmile. May dahilan naman kung bakit nakasmile sapagkat maganda siya. (Nax, bolahin daw ba.) Hehe. Pero sa totoo, sa aking mga kaberks, sa kanya ako pinakanagagandahan. Masayang kasama. May pagkakikay rin. Hindi mo akalain na marunong na palang magyosi ito. Si Cel. Taga-UST. Sobrang bait ng girl na ito! Minsan may pagkaslow rin sa jokes. Hehe. Joke. Sobrang contagious ng smile niya. Pati ako napapangiti. Si Kat. Taga-Lasalle Dasma Ang lakwatsera. Ang "Chic". Hehe. Mabait na kaibigan. Mayaman at nanlilibre (hehehe). We had our differences in highschool but it's water under the bridge now. Siyempre, ito ang pinakamahilig lumabas sa amin. Laging nagyayaya. Hehe. Si Cuy. Da pinsan of da kat. Hehe. Ano pa bang msasabi ko sa girl na ito? Fresh graduate. Nalilink kay JOng. Hahaha. She has a good heart and you can depend on her. Maloko rin. At malakas pumalo (*Cringes in memory*). Si Don, ang kapwa kong taga-Ateneo na paminsan minsan ko lang nakikita sa campus. Ang "ulo" ng barkada. Naku, sobrang lakas mang-asar nito. Kahit sino inaasar, pero paborito niyang asarin sa lahat si Pau. At kasalukuyang naaadik sa pagbobot. Hehe. Si Rowlp. UST boy. Yosi boy. Blogger. Hehe. Ang all around friendly guy. Katagteam ni DOn kapag inaasar si Pau. Bigay na bigay ang tawa kaya ikaw rin, madadala sa tawa niya. Masayang kausap kasi sobrang maloko. Si Pau. Taga-Lasalle Dasma. Ang pinakamabait na taong nakilala ko. Ang pinakamahaba ang pasensya. The hopeless romantic. Honestly dude, I hope you do find the right girl for you (^_^). Si Chloe. Taga-Southville. Hehe. Dalawa ang barkada. Laging may bagong cellphone every week. Hehe. Nax. Maangas, lalo na sa bilyaran. Palibhasa hustler ito eh. Kaya masarap kasama dahil entertained ka talaga. Hindi na probinsiyano itong guy na ito, daddy na ang dating. Hehe. Si Mac. Taga-STI (?). Mabait na kaibigan at maraming chismax. Hehe. Cheerleader pa tapos magaling sa tekken. Nax. Diverse! Si Jong. Ang bunso. Adopted na ata namin ito bilang kapatid. Hehe. Sobrang kulet. Malakas ring mang-asar kay Pua. Hard to believe pero nagyoyosi at umiinom na itong mokong na ito. Haha. Pero sana wag mong sobrahan. At siyempre, si Jerems. Taga-Adamson. Ang aking bestfriend. Ano pa bang masasabi ko dun?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yan ang aking barkada. Nagreunion kami nung Saturday although hindi nakasama si Mac. And that was when I realized that I really really missed them. Honestly, I thought they were just a part of a past life I lived in highschool. But I was wrong. They had affected me more than I ever knew. I missed even the simple things we do. The stories, the jokes and the laughter. I'm glad that our little get together will now be a monthly affair. It gives me a second chance to get to know them better. A second chance to pick up where we left off. I miss you guys and I wish I could express how much you all mean to me. I love you all!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-111750972929862445?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/111750972929862445/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=111750972929862445&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/111750972929862445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/111750972929862445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2005/05/pagbabalik-alaala-ikalawang-kabanata_31.html' title='Pagbabalik-alaala, Ikalawang Kabanata - Barkada'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-111734171602229390</id><published>2005-05-29T12:12:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-31T11:36:34.346+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pagbabalik-alaala, Unang Kabanata - Medsci</title><content type='html'>Natatandaan ko pa noong high school graduation, sobrang saya ko dahil magco-college na ako. Siyempre, Ateneo pa. Hehe. College daw ng matatalino at may kaya sa buhay. College ng mga konyo (kaya siguro ganito na ako magsalita ngayon) at kolehiyala. Ayos d ba? At sa mga kaibigang naiwan ko... Well, I could find new friends naman d ba? Atsaka we'll keep in touch. Well, the truth is, I did make new friends but I made one grave error, I didn't keep in touch with the old ones. I didn't know how much I missed until we had a mini class reunion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ayos lang, maliit na salo salo lang sa Manong's. 15 na katao. Si mi2 ganda - da lab of my layp (^_^), si pb (lead!), si mee-I (business woman!), si rose (school bus!), si nica (president!!), si shine (shining ang beauty!), si rianna (model!), si Gwen (chinese chic!), si Anne (lalong gumaganda. Hot!), si rowlp (haha.. ano ba yan.. sama na naman tayo bukas!), si Mike (bakasyon pa ba? ^_^), si ivan (antukin ka pa rin!), AZ (yaan dude, gaganda rin buhay mo), si miggy (daddy!! sayang, d ko nakita baby gurl mo) at siyempre, ako! Ang medsci 30/41. Ang pamilya ko sa classroom. Siyet. Nakakamiss ang kalokohan, ang mga katarantaduhan. Iniisip ko lang yung mga pinag-gagawa namin nun, napapangiti ako. Sobrang daming alaala. Sobrang daming tawanan. At nung nagkasama-sama kami kagabi, sobrang bumalik lahat. Pero siyempre, napansin ko, nagbago na kaming lahat. Mas malakas na uminom. May kanya kanyang pasan na problema. May kanya kanyang buhay na. Pero noong panahon na yun, parang buhay highschool ulit. Naaalala ko pa, parang nakita ko ulit ang isang araw ng 4th year. Pasok ako, inaantok pa. As usual, late na naman si mi at pb. May mga taong may dalang gitara. Tuwing break, magtitipon tipon sa likod at magkakantahan. Pagtatawanan ang english ni ms. Belen (east and wist!). Si mike na laging nakasmile. Si Ivan, iniiwan sa classroom habang natutulog. Si Rose, check attendance. Mga food shops nila wendy at fatima. Si David at si Jossdawn, naglalandian. Sobrang daming alaala. Sobrang daming memorya na kailangang tingnan muli. Masaya at malungkot ako noong mga panahon na iyon. Naalala ko kung ano ang nawala sa amin noong nagkahihiwalay kami pero naalala ko rin na hanngang ngayon, isa pa rin kaming pamilya. Sana bawat taon, may pagtitipon uli kami. Para sa mga alaala, bago man o luma. Para sa muling mag-sasama ng isang pamilya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bumalik lahat at alam mo naisip ko? Tsk, sana hindi na lang pala natapos ang highschool. Sana kasama ko pa tong mga taong ito. Masaya nga ang buhay kolehiyo, pero walang tatalo sa samahang medsci. Anyway, kung sino man na medsci 41 na nakakabasa nito, sa muling pagkikita!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-111734171602229390?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/111734171602229390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=111734171602229390&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/111734171602229390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/111734171602229390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2005/05/pagbabalik-alaala-unang-kabanata.html' title='Pagbabalik-alaala, Unang Kabanata - Medsci'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-111674286702425189</id><published>2005-05-22T14:19:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-22T14:21:07.036+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Celestial</title><content type='html'>We have been through a lot&lt;br /&gt;Countless problems we have solved&lt;br /&gt;The God-knows how many little fights we had&lt;br /&gt;And yet here we are still, together&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I wonder how we even got this far&lt;br /&gt;We were people of different social paths&lt;br /&gt;Common friends between us were so rare&lt;br /&gt;The world we had revolved in were very different&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet, somehow our worlds merged&lt;br /&gt;And we were never the same again&lt;br /&gt;It was like a comet crashing down to earth&lt;br /&gt;Alien, foreign yet feeling like its home&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so glad that I crashed into your world&lt;br /&gt;And here I will happily remain&lt;br /&gt;For this place, your world, is my home&lt;br /&gt;And as Dorothy said, "there is no place like home"&lt;br /&gt;I believe she's right...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-111674286702425189?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/111674286702425189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=111674286702425189&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/111674286702425189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/111674286702425189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2005/05/celestial.html' title='Celestial'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-111659326545849280</id><published>2005-05-20T20:42:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-20T20:47:45.463+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Summer Classes (or When will the hurting end?)</title><content type='html'>Hay.. Summer classes. Isa siyang salot ng lipunan na naimbento upang pahirapan ang mga hamak na estudyaneng katulad ko. Sino ba ang nag-imbento nito? Sino gumawa ng summer class? Kung sino ka man, isa lang masasabi ko sa iyo: Isa kang halimaw!!!!! Halimaw!! Wala ka bang awa? O isa ka bang "nerd" na walang buhay maliban na lang sa libro kaya mo kami pinahihirapan? Isa kang halimaw!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yun lang.. Hehe&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-111659326545849280?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/111659326545849280/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=111659326545849280&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/111659326545849280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/111659326545849280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2005/05/summer-classes-or-when-will-hurting.html' title='Summer Classes (or When will the hurting end?)'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-111624397738136374</id><published>2005-05-16T19:45:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-16T19:46:17.386+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hanngang Kailan Ka Maghihintay?</title><content type='html'>Hanngang kailan ka maghihintay? Hanngang kailan mo itatago ang nararamdaman mo? Hanngang kailan mo itatago ang nararamdaman mo para sa kanya? Mga tanong na napagdaanan na ng halos lahat ng tao. Kahit ako ay napagdaanan ko na rin pero alam mo? Wala pa rin akong maisip na kasagutan sa tanong na iyan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sa pag-amin, nalaman ko sa aking karanasan na wala talagang "right time". Wala talagang tamang panahon upang sabihin ang tunay mong nararamdaman. Dalawa lang kasi yan: Either masyado kang maaga o huli na ang lahat. Walang right time. Walang tamang panahon. Maaga o Huli. Ano ang pipiliin mo?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sa pag-amin, maraming maaring mangyari. "Once you crossed that line, you can never go back" Once na inamin mo na ang nararamdaman mo para sa isang tao, hindi mo na puwedeng bawiin. Hindi na puwedeng bumalik sa kalagayan noong hindi pa inaamin. Bakit? Kasi inamin mo na na higit sa isang kaibigan ang pagtingin mo. Inamin mo na may pag-ibig kang itinatago. Sa parte ng kaibigan kung kanino mo inamin ang nararamdaman mo, lagi na niyang iisipan iyon. Hindi na niya kayang alisin sa isipan niya na may gusto ka sa kanya. May "akwardness" na daw. May "gap" na. Friends and lovers are two entirely different people. At iba ang turingan diyan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sa maagang pag-amin, maaaring masira ang pagkakaibigan. Maaaring mag-iba ang pakikitungo. Sa pag-amin kung huli na, maraming kalungkutan ang nakabalot. Maraming pagsisisihan. Sa pag-amin na huli na, hindi mo binigyan ang pag-ibig na magbunga. Hindi mo binigyan ng pagkakataon gumana ang pag-ibig.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ngayon, hanngang kailan ka maghihintay?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-111624397738136374?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/111624397738136374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=111624397738136374&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/111624397738136374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/111624397738136374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2005/05/hanngang-kailan-ka-maghihintay.html' title='Hanngang Kailan Ka Maghihintay?'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-111495008545998138</id><published>2005-05-01T19:52:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-01T20:21:25.460+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Kayo pa rin?</title><content type='html'>Kayo pa rin? Ang tanong na madalas kong naririnig kung nakikita kami ng gf ko na magkasama ng mga kabatch namin. 2 years 7 months (lapit na mag 8 months!) pero yun pa rin ang unang tinatanong nila kapag nakikita kami.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sa totoo lang, hindi ko alam kung ano ang nararapat na reaksyon ko sa tanong na ito. Maiinsulto ba ako? Matatawa? Magagalit? Magagalak? Ano nga ba? Noong una, medyo naaasar ako pero nasanay na rin. Napapangiti na lang. Ano pa bang magagawa ko, eh yun yung unang reaksyon nila?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Naiintindihan ko rin kahit papaano ang mga reaksyon nila. Bigla na lang silang nagulat noong naging kami. Parang hindi kapanipaniwala. Siguro, akala na kung biglaan nagsimula ang isang relasyon, biglaan rin ang hiwalayan. Doon sila mali. Doon sila hindi makapaniwala.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, after 2 years and 7 months, hindi pa rin sila makapaniwala. Natatawa na lang ako. Ano nga ba sikreto ng relasyon namin at ang tagal na namin? Ano nga ba ang rason kung bakit hanngang ngayon kami pa rin? Sasabihin ko sa inyo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hindi "conventional" ang relasyon namin. Hindi kami tulad ng ibang relasyon. Walang "In-charge" sa relasyon namin. TIT-FOR-TAT method ang sa amin (mabuhay ang ecology!). Lahat ng ginagawa namin, may kompromiso. Pinag-uusapan. Nagagalit o naaasar man kami sa isa't isa, pinag-uusapan namin lahat. At ang pagtitiwala at katotohanan ay mahalaga sa amin. Pagtitiwala saan? Pagtitiwala na hindi namin sasaktan ang isa't isa. Pagtitiwala na kahit anong mangyari, alam namin na mahal namin ang isa't isa. Katotohanan dahil kahit masama ang sinasabi ng iba tungkol sa isa sa amin, sinasabi namin kaagad. Walang plastikan. Sinasabi ko lahat sa kanya, at sinasabi rin niya lahat sa akin KAHIT gaano man kasakit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isa pa, hindi kami buo kung hindi kami magkasama. Dati akala ko kaya ko mabuhay na mag-isa pero noong nakilala ko siya, doon ko lang nalaman na marami pa palang kulang sa buhay ko. Marami pa palang nawawala. Siguro dito nakaha ang kuwento ni Adan at ni Eba. Magiging buo ka lang kapag nakasama mo ang mahal mo. At kung mawawala ang isa, alam mo, sa puso mo na hindi ka na magiging kasing saya katulad ng saya na nadarama mo kapag kasama mo siya. Alam ko na mabubuhay pa ako kahit wala siya, pero para saan pa ang buhay ko kung wala siya sa piling ko?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, a few shouts:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Para sa mga nagtatanong ng "Kayo pa rin?", oo. 2 years and 7 months na kami pa rin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Para sa mga nagsasabing hindi kami tatagal, nagkamali kayo mga tsong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Para sa mga nagsasabing walang kakahinatnan ang relasyon namin, hindi kami nagtagal ng ganito kung walang kakahinatnan ito.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Para sa mga naghihintay na maghiwalay kami, kaunting pasensya pa, matagal tagal pa kayong maghihintay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At sa huli, para sa mga hindi pa rin naniniwala sa amin, Andito pa rin kami. Nakatayo at Magkasama.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-111495008545998138?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/111495008545998138/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=111495008545998138&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/111495008545998138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/111495008545998138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2005/05/kayo-pa-rin.html' title='Kayo pa rin?'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-111494761993086487</id><published>2005-05-01T19:23:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-05-01T19:40:19.933+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Angst</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Angst - A feeling of anxiety or apprehension often accompanied by depression.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever experienced angst? Of course you did. Everybody does. That's a silly question, isn't it? So what am I asking? I don't have any idea. It just came out. Myself, I've been feeling a little angsty this past few days. As for the reason, I'd rather keep that to myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I'm angsty, all the little things bother me. Minor details such as hot weather or major things such as friends getting killed (just joking ^_^). Anst brings out the worst in me or it could bring out the best. When angsty, I can concentrate better. I can write faster and I can be more creative. But I can also say things that I don't want to say. Or I can just lash out or snap at anybody. And of course, the third option, bottle it all up inside. But it will come out eventually and I don't know the form it will take when it comes out. When you repress a feeling, it leads you to unexpected actions on your part.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Angst doesn't come rushing into you. No, no, no. It creeps into you. It immerses you. It embraces you. Until you find yourself in its grip. Once it caught you, it will require a little time before you can escape its grip. It doesn't rush. It waits patiently for you to lower your guard. But is angst a bad thing? No. not entirely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have always maintained that any emotion is not bad in its own right. The actions that the person does is what makes it wrong. Angst is a strong emotion that most people feel numerous times in their lives. You can either control it or it can control you. Be aware that you're angsty is the first step in controlling it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am angsty right now, are you?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-111494761993086487?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/111494761993086487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=111494761993086487&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/111494761993086487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/111494761993086487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2005/05/angst.html' title='Angst'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-111483885145052932</id><published>2005-04-30T12:28:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-04-30T13:27:31.450+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tahimik</title><content type='html'>Isa akong tahimik na tao. Kung maiiwasan ko, hindi ako makikipag-away kanino man.  Pero siyempre, may mga panahon na gusto ko na talaga mang-away. Na gusto ko ng sumbatan kung sino man ang nanlalait at nagbaback-stab sa akin. Hindi ako nantuturo ng daliri o ano man. Gusto ko lang sabihin kung ano ang nasa damdamin ko. Mahirap itago ang galit at pagka-asar ng matagal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pagtitiwala. Yun lang naman ang hinihingi ko sa aking mga kaibigan. Pagtitiwala sa akin na hindi ako tatraydurin. Na hindi ako sasaktan. Nasaan na ang tiwala ng iba diyan? Bakit tila puro panlalait at pangbabackstab ang naririnig ko sa iba? Kaya mahirap magtiwala. Hindi mo alam kung sasabog sa mukha mo ang pagtitiwala. Hindi mo alam na ang sinabi mo palang sekreto, kumalat na. Nasan ang pagkakaibigan dun? Kung may reklamo tungkol sa akin, bakit hindi natin pag-usapan? Bakit hindi sabihin? Bakit kailangang sabihin sa ibang tao kung ang problema ay ako?  Harapin mo ako. Sabihin mo sa akin kung ano problema. Magalit man ako minsan, nakikinig pa rin ako. Nasan na ang pagtitiwala? Sa panahon ngayon, 4 na kaibigan lang ang pinagkakatiwalaan ko. Na alam ko na kahit anong mangyari, hindi nila ako huhusgahan sa aking mga ginawa kung hindi, kung sino talaga ako. Na sasabihin nila sa akin ang talagang kailangang sabihin sa akin. Yun ang katotohanan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pakikisama. Marunong akong sumakay ng trip ng iba. Malakas ako humirit. Ayos lang sa akin kahit anong trip mong gawin. Nakikisama ako, ikaw ba nakikisama sa akin? Kahit anong gawin mo, susuportahan kita kahit na ayaw ko. Siyempre. Kaibigan ka eh. Makikisama ako hanggang kaya ko. Kung hindi talaga, alis na lang ako bago pa tayo magkasamaan ng loob. Hindi ko pinipilit ang sarili ko sa mga taong ayaw akong pakisamahan. Hindi ko pinipilit ang isang tao na pakisamahan ako.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Minsan talaga, gusto ko ng sumigaw. Gusto ko ng magwala. Gusto ko na magalit dahil sa sobrang pagkainis. Pero ano ginagawa ko? Sinusulat ang mga nararamdamn pero nananatiling... tahimik.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-111483885145052932?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/111483885145052932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=111483885145052932&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/111483885145052932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/111483885145052932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2005/04/tahimik.html' title='Tahimik'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-110941265616591352</id><published>2005-02-26T17:58:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-26T18:10:56.166+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Losing Track</title><content type='html'>Pressure from school? Have no time for anything but to study and do projects here and there? Have no time to go out with your friends or to say a simple hi to someone you know? Well, you should make time. Make time for the little things because they are the important things in life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't ever make that mistake. Don't ever let yourself lose track of the things important to you. DOn't let yourself get absorbed with your studies or with your work. You are going to lose yourself. Instead, find time to do the little things that you love. Find time for your friends and for your family and find time for the one you love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I, myself, have been doing that lately. Too much busy to catch a high QPI. Too much time on doing school stuff. And because of that, I almost lost myself. Luckily, she saved me ^^ Thank you dear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let this be a lesson to all of us. Find time to do the little things that define who you are. Find time for your friends who have supported you. Find time for your family who will not always be there for you but they are there anyway when you have no one to talk to. Find time for your special someone because of the simple fact that there exists a special relationship between the two of you: Love.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-110941265616591352?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/110941265616591352/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=110941265616591352&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/110941265616591352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/110941265616591352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2005/02/losing-track.html' title='Losing Track'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-110726419029608262</id><published>2005-02-01T21:15:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-02-01T21:23:10.296+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ramblings of an insane and crazed individual</title><content type='html'>Nyahaha.. It's been too long since I wrote a blog. So I will write. As for the topic, I don't really know what it is. I will just write until I get a topic. By the way, I'm crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What the hell? I wrote 30 pages of an ethnographic paper! And the minumum requirement was 10! 10, and I wrote 30. Seriously something is wrong with me. I don't do that. I don't. Well, not usually. So now, I'm in TBS mode. TBS as in total body shutdown. And I will probably remain like this for the remainder of the week. Hmm.. What shall I discuss next? Oh yeah! Happy Monthsary Baby! Feb. 3 na! That would be what? 2 years and 5 months. And still counting. You're right. I'm rich and your beautiful. A perfect combination isn't it? Haha..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We did a report on SA a little while ago. But before that, we decided to make a video. Yes, a video. It was just for fun. We're good at that, making fun of ourselves. We just love to make fun of ourselves. That's what I love about the sausage party! Sa mga sausage party dyan! Vid ulit for psych!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So is that what I have to say? Is that what I am typing for? Just to tell everybody what happened during the day? Yep.. I guess it is..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-110726419029608262?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/110726419029608262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=110726419029608262&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/110726419029608262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/110726419029608262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2005/02/ramblings-of-insane-and-crazed.html' title='Ramblings of an insane and crazed individual'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-110510675477750241</id><published>2005-01-07T21:06:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2005-01-07T22:06:44.613+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Writing with your heart</title><content type='html'>I like to write. There is nothing in the world like writing. It is something that I love doing. I don't fancy myself as a good writer. I'm just an ordinary guy that likes to write. And mind you, I don't write for anyone but myself. In fact, most of what I write, I don't share with anyone else but myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are things that we simply can not put into action or into speech. This is where writing comes in. Everything we write is a collaboration of feelings. By writing, writers simply makes a world filled with fantasy, the supernatural and the like. By writing, a writer can make himself into whatever he wants to be. He can be the knight that saves the princess or he can be the wise all knowing sage that helps others in their quests for their dreams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When writers start to write something, they should put into mind 2 questions: Why do I write? And for what purpose? There are many reasons on why we write. We write when we're sad, we're happy and when we're hurt. Basically, there are many reasons why we write. But sometimes, we just feel the urge to just sit down in front of the computer/notebook and just write. It's as if there is something deep within us that makes us write. It is this urge that makes us stare at a computer monitor or a notebook for countless hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In writing, we must remember to be always true to ourselves. To what we feel. Otherwise, what we write will come out flat. Believe in what you are writing. Believe in the fantasy. Believe in the possibility of it. If we don't believe in what we are writing or at least the possibility of it, than what did we write it for? Love what you write. Believe in what you write.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend of mine once said, that when we write we impart a part of ourselves to every character in the story, to every persona, to everything that we write. Either it is something that we want to be or our own distinct personality. In a story, every character, whether good or bad is part of who we are. They came from us. And thus, they have our feelings. Even feelings that we don't like in ourselves, it can be expressed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I said earlier, being true to ourselves is important when we write. It should always come from our heart. Whether it's cheesy, gothic or whatever. This is where inspiration comes in. It is overrated by those who use it often and underrated by those who rarely use it. While it is true that everything around us can serve as an inspiration, We just can't look around and then say "Inspired na ako!". It is not the object of our inspiration that makes us write but rather the process by which we search for it. It is in looking for inspiration that we find inspiration. The object is not important, but the process is. We simply can not use inspiration as a fuel additive but rather as part of the overall writing process itself. Nothing beats hardwork. Except hardwork and inspiration combined.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writing from the heart is the best gift that a writer can give himself. A person can deny everything in the world except how he really feels. Writing is a freedom of expression. Of what use is it when we write something that contrasts those that we feel and believe? Writing from the heart makes us at peace with ourselves and those around us. It makes us one with the world. It makes us feel that we are a part of this world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BJ Manalo (A controversial amateur basketball player) once said "When I play, my only audience is God" or something to that effect. For writers, the only audience that you should worry about is yourself. Don't write because you like to be appreciated or you like to feel that you belong. Write because you want to. Write eventhough people say that what you right is crappy. The important thing is you like what you write and you enjoy writing it. Satisfaction and contentment should always come from you not from what other people say. Write for yourself. Write because it calms you. Because it strengthens you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I write not because it is what I do best, but rather because I like to write. It calms the conflicting emotions within me that is always threatening to devour my being. I write because I follow the ways of my heart. I write because it makes me complete.&lt;br /&gt;&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/8659558-110510675477750241?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/110510675477750241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=110510675477750241&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/110510675477750241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/110510675477750241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2005/01/writing-with-your-heart.html' title='Writing with your heart'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-109825602936306640</id><published>2004-10-20T14:48:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-10-20T15:07:09.363+08:00</updated><title type='text'>..Isang Pagpapaalam Sa MIRC..</title><content type='html'>*Paalala: Senti alert, senti alert.&lt;br /&gt;3 na taon rin tayong nagsama. 3 na taon na puno ng saya, lungkot at kung ano ano pang emosyon. Nakita mo ako nung nag graduate ako nung highschool at nung una akong umapak sa kolehiyo. Naranasan mo ang pagkahinto ng isang relasyon at paninimula ng panibago. Bagama't hindi ka umiimik, ikaw ang naging solusyon sa aking mga problema. Salamat sa'yo at nakakilala ako  ng iba't ibang tao sa iba't ibang sulok ng mundo. Salamat sa'yo at nakilala ko ng mabuti ang iba sa aking mga kaibigan. Salamat sa'yo at nakilala kong mabuti ang isang tao na iniibig ko ngayon. Salamat sa lahat ng alaala. Salamat sa lahat ng saya, lahat ng lungkot. Salamat sa lahat ng tawanan, lahat ng iyakan. Salamat sa lahat ng tao na naging bahagi ng buhay MIRC ko. Salamat sa lahat ng sikreto na pinagkatiwala natin sa isa't isa bagama't hindi pa tayo nagkakakilala. Sa lahat ng nakachat ko sa MIRC, salamat sa lahat at sana alam nyo na malapit kayo sa aking puso. At sa'yo MIRC, salamat at kung hindi dahil sa'yo hindi ko nakilala ang mga tao na naging importanteng bahagi ng buhay ko. Pasensya na at kailangan ko na talaga umalis sa piling mo. Sadyang madami na nangyayari sa buhay ko ng sabay sabay na hindi na kita gaanong mapapansin. Bagama't makikita mo pa rin ako paminsan minsan, hindi pa rin ito katulad ng dati. Hindi kasing tagal at hindi kasing saya. Walang makakapantay sa nakaraan na pinagsamahan natin. Paalam na kaibigan..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-109825602936306640?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/109825602936306640/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=109825602936306640&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/109825602936306640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/109825602936306640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2004/10/isang-pagpapaalam-sa-mirc.html' title='..Isang Pagpapaalam Sa MIRC..'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-109825438616857108</id><published>2004-10-20T14:25:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-10-20T14:39:46.170+08:00</updated><title type='text'>..Kalayaan..</title><content type='html'>Bakit ganun. Naisip ko. Sembreak na ngayon at nasabi ko sa sarili ko: "Hay sa wakas, puwede na ako magpahinga sa bahay ko" Pero isang araw pa lang sa bahay ko, lumabas agad ako. And the day after that and the day after that. At ngayon? San ako pupunta? Uuwi ng probinsya. Whoa. Parang ganun rin di ba? Hehe. Mas mabuti na na hindi na lang siguro ako umuwi kasi wala rin naman ako sa bahay most of the time. Pero hindi ba, ganun talaga? Kahit gaano mo kamiss ang bahay mo, masarap pa rin talagang lumabas. Masarap pa rin yung kalayaan. Kaya nga laging naabuso ang kalayaan sa Pilipinas eh. Ang kalayaan sa Pilipinas ay ang kalayaan na mambastos ng iba, magreklamo sa maliliit na bagay, pagbintangan ang iba, lumabas at gumawa ng kung ano-anong kalokohan. O d ba? Kalayaan nga d ba? Pero sana naman wag natin abusuhin ang kalayaan na binigay natin. May responsibilidad rin na katapat ang lahat. Kung may kalayaan kang mabuhay, mayroon ka ring tungkulin na alagaan ang buhay mo. Kung may kalayaan kang ipahayag ang nararamdaman mo, may tungkulin ka ring maging sensitibo at makinig sa pagpapahayag ng damdamin ng iba. Problema kasi nakakalimutan natin ang tungkulin na kasama ng bawat kalayaan. O talagang hindi natin alam. O kaya, wag naman sana, wala talaga tayo pakialam. Sana naman isipin natin na ang kalayaan ay isang regalo. Isang biyaya. Galangin natin ito. Wag natin abusuhin sapagkat baka mabawi ang kalayaan na ating inaabuso. AMEN&lt;br /&gt;&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/8659558-109825438616857108?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/109825438616857108/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=109825438616857108&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/109825438616857108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/109825438616857108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2004/10/kalayaan.html' title='..Kalayaan..'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-109819305499497028</id><published>2004-10-19T21:37:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-10-19T21:37:34.993+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/178/2052/640/3.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/178/2052/320/3.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ewa eto pa&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://www.hello.com/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbh.gif' alt='Posted by Hello' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-109819305499497028?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/109819305499497028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=109819305499497028&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/109819305499497028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/109819305499497028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2004/10/ewa-eto-pa.html' title=''/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-109819284505771795</id><published>2004-10-19T21:34:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-10-19T21:34:05.056+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/178/2052/640/2.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/178/2052/320/2.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ewa isa pa&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://www.hello.com/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbh.gif' alt='Posted by Hello' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-109819284505771795?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/109819284505771795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=109819284505771795&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/109819284505771795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/109819284505771795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2004/10/ewa-isa-pa.html' title=''/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-109819277545731551</id><published>2004-10-19T21:32:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-10-19T21:32:55.456+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/178/2052/640/4.1.jpg'&gt;&lt;img border='0' style='border:1px solid #000000; margin:2px' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/img/178/2052/320/4.1.jpg'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ewa para sa'yo yung mga pics&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href='http://www.hello.com/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbh.gif' alt='Posted by Hello' border='0' style='border:0px;padding:0px;background:transparent;' align='absmiddle'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-109819277545731551?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/109819277545731551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=109819277545731551&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/109819277545731551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/109819277545731551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2004/10/ewa-para-sayo-yung-mga-pics.html' title=''/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-109785632241115887</id><published>2004-10-15T23:14:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-10-16T00:08:43.533+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ang pagtatapos ng finals, ang birthday ni Joanne at kung ano ano pa..</title><content type='html'>Hay, tapos na rin finals. Pahinga na. Sem break na. Ang saya saya naman. Wahehe.. Ang finals ay kakaiba ngayong sem. Sa mga inaasahan kong mahihirapan ako, d ako gaanong nahirapan. Sa inaasahan kong napakadali, nahirapan ako. Wow. Baliktad. Buyset na theo yan. Sa lahat ba naman ng exams, theo pa pinakamahirap? Hayop na enumeration kasi. Biro mo kaunti lang nasagot ko. D ko masagot ang 5 elements of divine revelation. Wahaha. Pero may nilagay ako. Kaso nga lang d ko alam kung tama. Sana may tumama sa hula ko. May katabi nga ako, si Ricky (pinalitan ang pangalan para hindi masira ang integridad ng nilalang na nabangit). Isa siyang malaking bakla na mahilig pumalo ng "balls" Aba, tiningnan ko nung test, napakalalim ng iniisip. Nagsulat ako, hindi ko muna pinansin. After 10 minutes, nagiisip pa rin siya. Parang ang lalim ng iniisip. Parang gumagawa ng mtv na senti. Kulang na lang background music, music video na dudes. Sobrang nacurious ako kung bakit in deep thought siya. Tapos biglang humarap ng bahagya sa akin (bahagya lang kasi baka mahuli siya nangongopya). Sabay bulong, "Teejay, tulungan mo ako pls." Nagulat ako. Natulala. D alam kung ano gagawin. Anong tulong kaya ang mabibigay ko. Love life ba problema? Sexualidad ba? Hindi ko alam kung ano. Sabay napatingin ako sa papel niya. Wow! Blanko ang enumeration. Langya, naghahanap pala ng sagot. Kaya pala napakalalim ng iniisip. Pinipiga ang utak. Pero alang nangyari. Ako ay natawa. Pinigilan ko. Ngunit d na talaga kaya. Kaya ayun, nakangiti ako, parang isang gago. Nakita naman nung mga nasa kabilang side nung testing area. Natawa rin sila sa akin. Ahehe. Nakasmile kasi ako na hindi ko maintindihan. hehe. Ayun. Kinagabihan, pumunta kami sa birthday ni Joanne. 5 kami. Ako, si Tiong, si Big J, si Karlong, at siyempre si Ricky. Habang papunta, naglaro kami ng +1, isang laro na naimbento ni Ricky. Ang rules ng game ay ganito: Bawal magsabi ng oo, hindi, yes, no, or mag nod. Ganung kami buong trip mula Katipunan hanngang Rockwell. Hanngang sa Dencio's pa nga ata. Ang galing ni Ricky. Hindi na kailangan ng tulong namin para magkaron ng +1. Hayaan mo siyang magsalita, mababangit niya rin ang pinagbawal na mga salita. Galing talaga. Tapos ayun, nasa Dencio's na kami ng 630. Ala tao! Pati b-day celebrant ala. Wow. Aga namin. Dahil ala pang tao, lumabas kami at napadpad kami sa arcade. Sinubukan naming maglaro. Una, Daytona. Miss ko na yung larong yun. 4 kami naglaro. Ako lagi nahuhuli. Hindi ko alam kung bakit. Marahil ay kulang lang ako sa praktis. House of the Dead 3 naman nilaro namin. Ako unang namatay. Wow. First time to. Marahil hindi ako sanay sa shotgun na gamit. Sanay lang ako sa maliliit na baril. Si Ricky, eksperto sa paghawak ng malalaking bagay na pumuputok. Eksperto rin sa pagsakay sa mga totoy mola. Ang galing talaga niya. Idol. Nagsawa na rin kami at pumunta na kami sa party ni Joanne. Astig. Kami nauna sa block namin. Halos nag-aalala na nga si Joanne kung sisipot pa iba naming blockmates. Mangiyak-ngiyak na. Biglang dumating si Nikko. Lahat kami nabighani. Hanep sa porma. Parang pupunta sa Rave Party. Kaunting sikip na lang ng t-shirt pwede na. Wow. Muscles. Sunod na dumating si Pearl at si Taktakers, ang host ng surprise program na para kay Joanne. Tapos napatigil kami. May naglalakad. Nakalong sleeves. Nakavest. Matipuno. Business oriented. Wow. Tataas ko na sana kamay ko at sisigaw ng: "waiter! pahingi naman ng tubig" Kaso napansin ko, kilala ko pala siya. At hindi siya waiter. Si Alvin pala. Si Mr. Perfect. Astig. Sunod sunuran ng dumating ang mga kablock ko. Sarap ng pagkain. Crispy pata, sisig at marami pang iba. Sarap pare. Heaven. Nagsimula na program. Walang mike. Pero ok lang. Naririnig naman eh. Una, kumanta mga block L girls ng "Power of two" Ayos. Acapella. Nice nice nice. Sabay 6 treasures. Ayos naman. Kaso hindi ko gaanong marinig, pero ok naman. As long as masaya si Joanne. Sunod 6 wishes. Kasama ako dun. Medyo kakaiba ang aking pagka wishes. Una, natuluaan ako wax ng kandila. Ehehe. Hindi siya masakit. Sunod, napaso ako nung room mate ni Joanne ng kandila. Haha. Laugh trip. Nung ako na yung magwiwish. Wala ako masabi. As in blanko. Kaya sinabi ko na lang ang unang pumasok sa utak ko. Classic pare. "Ito ay isang kandila" Tawanan na naman. Sunod naman kumanta kaming mga boys. Harana. Si Ricky na naman ang starring. Idol kita Ricky! Sumunod 6 roses. Ayos naman lahat. Si Ricky ang galing. Nilagay niya sa bibig niya yung rosas. Ngunit nung binigay na niya kay Joanne. Bali na! Galing mo Ricky dude. Tapos yung cake, galing sa pagkakagawa. Bilib ako. May mukha ni Joanne. Overall. Astig ang program. Galing nila Pearl at Taktak. At sa lahat ng tumulong, napakacooperative. Galing naman. Kaso si Alvin ata tipsy na. Hindi ata napigilan ang pag-inom ng beer pero ayos lang. After nun, pumunta kami nila Ricky, Big J at Tiong sa Meatshop. Uminom kami. At dun nagtatapos ang araw ko.&lt;br /&gt;Lessons learned:&lt;br /&gt;1. Sa susunod kapag sinabing 7 pumunta, 730 dumating.&lt;br /&gt;2. Huwag makikipaglaro ng Daytona sa may-ari ng sinabayan mong kotse.&lt;br /&gt;3. Hindi lahat ng mukhang malalim ang iniisip nag-iisip ng malalim.&lt;br /&gt;4. Tingnan mabuti kung waiter ang isang tao bago tawagin.&lt;br /&gt;5. Masarap ang barbeque sa meatshop lalo na pagkasama ng lights.&lt;br /&gt;6. Dahan-dahang uminom pare hindi malasing.&lt;br /&gt;7. Para makilala ang isang tao, makipag heart to heart talk ng 5 minutes.&lt;br /&gt;8. Isa sa pinakamasarap na sisig ay natatagpuan sa Dencio's.&lt;br /&gt;9. Masarap kasama sina Empy, Fundy at JC&lt;br /&gt;10. Lastly, masarap uminom kapag tapos na ang sem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8659558-109785632241115887?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/109785632241115887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=109785632241115887&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/109785632241115887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/109785632241115887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2004/10/ang-pagtatapos-ng-finals-ang-birthday.html' title='Ang pagtatapos ng finals, ang birthday ni Joanne at kung ano ano pa..'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-109760949935880418</id><published>2004-10-13T04:02:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-10-13T03:31:39.356+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ang Mahiwagang Hippogriff</title><content type='html'>Alam nyo ba kung ano ang hippogriff? yung sa harry potter? yung manok na tinubuan ng katawan ng kabayo. yun.. May natuklasan ako tungkol dun mga kaibigan.. Totoo pala yun! yep.. it is true.. sa katunayan nakakita nga kami ng mga kaibigan ko. Biro mo naglalakad lang kami sa may Ateneo nang biglang may bumabang kung anong halimaw sa harap namin. Una akala naman isa itong malaking manok na pwede naming maluto (gutom na kasi kami nun). Tapos inakala namin yun yung agila na walang humpay na nagbabantay sa aming gym na hindi man lang aircon. Tatakas na nga sana namin kasi bawal na daw ang hindi rehistradong "exotic animal" Baka makumpiska kasi ng DENR. D ba exotiko naman ang aming agila? San pa kayo makakakita ng agilang kulay bughaw aber? Sa amin lang. Ngunit ng pinagmasdan naming mabuti. Hindi pala ito higanteng manok, hindi rin isang bughaw ng agila. Tiningnan namin mabuti. At kapansin pansin ang kanyang katawang kabayo. At ang totoong proweba. Ang kanyang umm.. "Hotdog" ay napakalaki. Katawang kabayo nga! At dun lang namin naisip na baka nga hippogriff nga yun. At oo nga! hippogriff nga. Naisip namin na baka si Buckbeak yun na nakatakas kung saan man siya galing. Dahan dahan naming nilapitan. At ng malapit na malapit na kami ito bigla itong bumulagta. Tila nahimatay ata. Tiningnan namin ang pulso. Pinakinggan ang puso. Pinakiramdaman. Wala. Wala kami naramdaman. Patay na ata o hindi lang kami magaling sa ganun dahil hindi pa kami mga doktor. Mga biology students pa lang kami. Nanghinayang kami. Naisip namin na sayang at hindi na siya mapapakinabangan. Nakita ko ang dalang dissecting set ng kaibigan namin. May biglang pumasok sa isipan ko. Ididissect namin siya! Oo yun nga. Baka may extra points sa compana namin. Baka puwede to. Hahaha... At yun nga, dinala namin ito sa boarding house kung saan ako nakatira. Araw-gabi tinrabaho namin. Yung isa sinulat yung mga characteristis nito. Yung isa skeletal system naman ang tiningnan. At yung isa pa, dahil isa siyang simpleng manyak, ay inimbistigahan ang urogenital system nito at ang kasama nitong malaking "hotdog" At sa akin naman napunta ang muscles nito. grabe. Ang hirap sa wakas ay natapos rin namin. Nakagawa kami ng libro nun. Ang pinamagatang "How to dissect the last hippogriff on earth and tips" Ngunit napansin namin na hindi pa pala patay ito. Walastik. Buhay pa pala. Kailangan gawan ng solusyon.. pagnabuhay ito baka kung ano gawin sa amin dahil sa kagaguhan na ginawa namin dito. at ang mas mahalaga baka wala ng maniwala sa libro namin. Pinagpilian namin. Ang libro o ang hippogriff. No match! ang libro ang pinili namin. Pinatay namin ang hippogriff. Kinatay at niluto. (gutom na kasi kami sa kakadissect) Masarap pala ito pag binarbque. Astig men. At sumikat ang libro namin. Dami bumili. Si JK Rowling naman tila galit sa amin. Laging masama ang tingin. The anger pare. Nakikita. Alam ata kung ano ginawa namin. Pero wala ng proweba. Nilabas na ng kalikasan. Poof! Ala na! So ano ang punto ng istoryang ito? Masarap kumain ng barbqued hypogriff!&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/8659558-109760949935880418?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/109760949935880418/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=109760949935880418&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/109760949935880418'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/109760949935880418'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2004/10/ang-mahiwagang-hippogriff.html' title='Ang Mahiwagang Hippogriff'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8659558.post-109739733885073479</id><published>2004-10-10T16:07:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2004-10-10T16:35:38.850+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Karanasan, kasiyahan, kamalasan...</title><content type='html'>Minsan naiisip ko... actually.. hindi minsan.. lagi eh... bakit nga ba ako nag-aaral? para san ba to? Isa ito sa mga tanong na patuloy na umiikot sa isipan ko.. bakit nga ba tayo nag-aaral? bakit nga ba tayo naghahanda si kinabukasan? Marahil isipin niyo na isa akong tao na walang pakialam sa pag-aaral o isang tao na ayaw ko matuto. mali ka dude. gusto ko matuto. gusto ko maranasan ang lahat ng experience na maaaring maranasan sa mundong ito. Simula pa lang nung bata ako, gusto ko ng tuklasin ang hiwaga sa mundo. Kaya ayun.. Dami ko na naranasan. At hindi lahat nakakabuti sa iyo. droga, ecstacy pills, pre-marital sex, yosi at siyempre ang bestfriend ng bawat lalaki, ang beer. Marami na rin akong natuklasan tungkol sa salitang pag-ibig. Naranasan ko na ang maging sawi, mabasted, umiyak dahil sa pag-ibig, ang mamangka sa dalawang ilog at kung ano ano pa. Naranasan ko na rin ang tamis ng tagumpay at ang pait ng pagkabigo. Ikaw nga.. sabi ni craig david at sting.. rise and fall.. ehehe.. ala lang.. so sa lahat ng naranasan ko, may natutunan ba ako? siyempre naman.. nalaman ko na ang bawal ang pinakamasarap tikman sa lahat. Naranasan ko na iba na rin kung may umiibig sa iyo at iniibig mo rin. At nalaman ko rin na hindi gaanong nagkakatugma most of the time ang dalawa. Marami akong natutunan pero sa huli, naisip ko nakalimutan ko ata ang pinakamahalagang bagay. I forget to enjoy my life now. Baka kasi masyado na akong jaded. Ewan ko ba kung bakit parang napakakontento na ako ngayon. Na para bang nawalan na ako ng will or ng drive upang mangarap. hay ewan ko ba.. kaya ngayon,  sinusubukan kong unti unting mangarap uli. Magkaron ng drive ika nga. try to enjoy life. yan.. back to basics na naman ako.. ayos lang sa akin na mabigo muli, makaramdan ng pagkalungkot. Kasi ibig sabihin nun marunong pa rin akong masaktan.  At siyempre kung alam mo kung paano malungkot, siyempre alam mo rin kung paano maging masaya. Ahehe.. teka teka.. nawawala na tayo. So bakit  nga ba ako nag-aaral? nalaman ko na sa pagsusulat ko. pero alam mo? hindi na mahalaga kung bakit. Mas mahalaga na maramdaman.. ala lanh.. sana maintindihan nyo mga katarantaduhan na pinagsusulat ko.. bye,, next time uli.. aral na uli ako para sa finals namin.&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/8659558-109739733885073479?l=imperfect03.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/feeds/109739733885073479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8659558&amp;postID=109739733885073479&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/109739733885073479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8659558/posts/default/109739733885073479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://imperfect03.blogspot.com/2004/10/karanasan-kasiyahan-kamalasan.html' title='Karanasan, kasiyahan, kamalasan...'/><author><name>imperfect</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09337040870782986049</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://image1.lightbox7.com/imperfect/Sephiroth.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
