On A Pale Moonlight

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Door to Nowhere by Ben Folds Photography

 

Remember the feeling of being, well helpless I guess. Trying to find answers to questions you cannot answer. Sometimes its not even questions, you find yourself uncertain. Uncertain on how the events can unfold.

The future can be a paradox, a mystery, a riddle and a locked door while old Fate is standing right in the corner dangling the keys to that door. Sometimes the outcome can suck, sometimes its not, it depends on how you play it. Sometimes you have to break in order get the outcome that you want. Nothing to do but follow through, journey begins whatever the outcome is. But then again most of us would find a way to turn things around.

Its also normal, I guess to cower in fear, in fear of everything falling apart. Maybe Fate can be the darkness, the thunder, that comes from hell and pull you under. I may end up going home, drunk, broken, perhaps you happen to fall of a gutter, smack my head so hard it bled, or just plain stinky while listening to Behind Blue Eyes. I am afraid, I am afraid to dance with the devil in a pale moon light. I guess there’s nothing wrong if I cower, I’d be spared in perhaps the biggest torment in my life. I also think asking Fate to open the door might set me free. I guess, I have to……

You can visit Ben Folds Photography here. link

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Reading Empty Pages

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Picture belongs to Pezibear of Pixabay.com

 

Things, well no not things, maybe it is things. So things have not been well, months long (amateur) writer’s block and a lot of other things have happened. I guess things have not been working to me, or whatever. I don’t know shit happens, but this is a different kind of shit, a much smellier pile, putrid, disgusting and absolutely hideous.

Somehow I can’t even see the sun in the sky, the birds in the trees, hear the music that plays on the radio, and a lot of other things. For me those were just images, sounds, animation or I can just write it up to imagination. My mind is blank, in shock maybe as I try to recall things that got me stranded here, at this very moment, a place where the sun doesn’t shine, a place where there are no birds and even music. Darkness once again managed to creep behind me, tapped my shoulder and punched me in the face. It sucks, and of course admittedly partly I am to blame for this, just one innocent fuck up that brought the whole stack crumbling.

I’m just man, only human, I make mistakes but given a chance I bounce back. I’m just a common man, not a superhero. To quote a song from Poets of the Fall all I wanted to do right now is, “sail into the storm, with the waves rushing over to take us (or in this case me), battle against the tide, she was the beacon of my salvation and my starlight.”

I pray that one day, I can now hear even the cries of dolphins, gaze into the light and be hypnotized in her gaze. One day. Its all up to me. I guess.

Promise Her The Moon

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Why am I using a classic Mr. Big song? And why the fuck am I writing? After staring at her for hours as I watched her drifted off to sleep, I felt compelled to. I can’t help go back hours before as we tried to made love in the cold night and the starry skies. I wish the moment would last forever, the warmth of her embrace and the gentleness of her touch. I wished it never ended, and lets say I died in my sleep, I would be at peace knowing that a night with her is my last memory.

I always long to feel her embrace, the moment she wakes up in her slumber. The highlight of my day spending my time with her, no matter how small, even in a matter of seconds, time stand still, the universe stops, God rests. A moment etched in eternity, a moment I wanted for eternity, no, not a moment, but a reality that I wanted. I’d rather spend eternity alone and find her in countless of lifetimes and wait for this exact same moment to happen.

Now that the day has fallen, the dark has enveloped the skies, I can’t help but get out, look at the stars, find the answers, but somehow I end up thinking of despair, grief, and even with those red roses around me. The pavements are much darker, the night winds and even the cigarette as I ponder on things can’t seem to embrace me. I’m broken I guess. I thought I was invincible. brought me down to my knees, begging and hoping, maybe crying. No, not maybe, I am crying as I look up to the heavens waiting for answers, waiting for her.

I felt that at times my words meant nothing, afraid to who I become after dark. I can’t find my way back, back to where I can sit on top of a hill or maybe the mountain with her at my side, and own the universe as we gazed at the stars. Those memories give me strength, hope, but some say hope is for the desperate, but I say hope is for those who have faith, especially to those who took a leap, brave enough to face the challenges of tomorrow. I’ll wait if I have too. take the risk or that leap if I have to, it maybe a fool’s errand but I have to, I will never ever forgive myself if I let her slip away, and even if it takes a thousand lifetimes and generations, I will try to win her back.  She’s to good to be forgotten. She’s to good to be true.

I Hate It When I Drink

my usual companion back in the day

my usual companion back in the day

Yes. I do. A year ago I promised myself no to drink anymore. Why you ask? I told myself if I want to quit smoking, I think and in my opinion that was the first step. Because when I drink cigarette butts would fly all over the place, scatter like dust in the wind. I hate it when I drink, I hate the cold beer drenches my thirst, maybe drown away my problems. Because it can’t quench the thirst that I have inside.

I feel empty, lost, looking for answers and solutions for every question that I have in mind. As I speak I sit in front of my busted up laptop, looking at screen trying to organize the thoughts that fly into my head. Sometimes I’m stuck, stuck at the endless waves of thought rumbling inside my head. And that’s why after months of hiatus I decided to write again, maybe sometimes despair or downing a few bottles help me trying to cope to my dilemma right now.

It all started out with an assurance that was forgotten for some reason, then someone jumped in and slipped right through the trenches. I was distraught, shocked, and felt out of place. I felt like a child losing her mom in a crowded department store, nowhere to go, nowhere to run to, except cry but it seems that even with the help of others I can’t find the right way, perhaps afraid of the circumstances that will follow. Maybe I’m afraid, afraid of the things that might happen, afraid of waking up in a new tomorrow, a dark gloomy one, where ghouls and goblins are out to drag me back into the dark and chain me up. Yes I cried, I shed a tear, afraid, unsure, yet fighting. Fighting a fight that I know I can win, maybe it will tear me apart in the end but sometimes I need to fight in order for me to achieve what I want, or to prove a point. I hate the darkness, its black, its cold, it feels empty.

I hate being pushed away, but sometimes instead of moving on, cutting the connection, you have to keep moving forward, again to prove a point. I hate being pushed away, its painful, it sucks and it can break a person, I know how it feels. But what if fighting would show how much you can strive and prove to someone that you’re strong, and you won’t just fade into black, that might mean much. Pushed away, rejection, I always hated it, never want to experience it again.

Again I hate it when I drink, I hate the feeling of stiffness that sometimes I feel, I hate the way it gives me headaches if I drink too much, I hate it when I had a hard time sleeping because of it. I hate it when its the only thing that makes me sleep.

The De La Salle Song

Note: For entertainment purposes only, if you’re offended then you should reflect on your life.

De La Salle Song (in tune of Sacha Baron Cohen’s Kazakhstan National Anthem)

De La Salle greatest school in the world
All other schools are run by little girls
De La Salle number one producer of geniuses
All other schools have inferior geniuses

De La Salle home of Edu Manzano
He is Captain Barbell and ex of Ate Vi
His son Lucky Manzano is also from La Salle
His girlfriend Angel Locsin and ex is Anne Curtis

De La Salle De La Salle you very nice place
From the streets of Taft to the mountaintops of Dasma
De La Salle friend of all except Ateneo
They very jealous people who want to be La Sallians

De La Salle greatest inventors in the world
We invented Starbucks that Ateneans enjoy
De La Salle toilets cleanest in the country
Except of course those in call centers

De La Salle De La Salle you very nice place
From the streets of Taft to the mountaintops of Dasma
Come grasp the mighty arrow of our leader
From junction of its fletching to the tip of its head.

He Lived Long and Definitely Prospered

Leonard Nimoy populary known in pop culture as Spock

Leonard Nimoy populary known in pop culture as Spock (picture from @ANOVO twitter)

Leonard Nimoy, popularly known as Spock, passed away at age 83 because of complications from chronic obstructive pulmonary disease.

Nimoy’s exploits are not limited to the far reaches of space and the Starship Enterprise. His chops in music, photography and poetry are only dwarfed by his skills in acting. Nimoy’s greatest contribution to the world was when he played Spock, a half-human, half-Vulcan Science Officer and Second Officer (even Executive Officer) in Star Trek both in movies (including the alternate reality version) and in the classic TV series.

Nimoy also lent his voice to numerous animations: Star Trek Animated Series,  as Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde in Pagemaster, Transformers Animated Movie where he played Galvatron, and the live action Michael Bay’s Transformers Dark of the Moon as Sentinel Prime. He also appeared in The Twilight Zone, as a relevant character in the old Mission Impossible series, and numerous movies under his belt.

I’m no Trekkie but I enjoyed Star Trek movies (especially The Wrath of Kahn), I enjoyed watching him as Spock and I enjoyed his songs. As I end this short tribute to a great man, I leave you with his last tweet. Mr. Nimoy, thank you, we will live long and prosper.

Thank you for stating the obvious. The league kinda needs it

Pacquiao, the professional basketball player

Pacquiao, the professional basketball player

How do you become a professional basketball player?

That question is one of a thousand that will forever be embedded in the hearts and minds of us, the Filipino people. After all, our country’s number 1 sport is basketball and it is also our national sport. Every year majority of our countrymen tune in to the University Athletic Association of the Philippines (UAAP), National Collegiate Athletic Association (NCAA), Collegiate Champions League (CCL), Fil-Oil Pre-Season Collegiate Basketball, the Philippine Basketball Association Development League (PBA D-League), the now defunct Philippine Basketball League (PBL), Liga Pilipinas, National Basketball Conference (NBC), Mindanao-Visayas Basketball Association (MVBA), for a time the Metropolitan Basketball Association (MBA) and of course the 40 year old league that is the Philippine Basketball Association (PBA).

Indeed we love basketball, other than the fact that the likes of Carlos Loyzaga, Kurt Bachman, Carlos Badion, Ed Ocampo to name a few represented and won various tournaments here and abroad. During the professional era, Robert Jaworski, Ramon Fernandez, Alvin Patrimonio, Benjie Paras, Allan Caidic, Nelson Asaytono, and even modern stars like Mark Caguioa, James Yap, Marc Pingris, Jason Castro, Calvin Abueva, Gabe Norwood etc. captured our hearts and imagination. In addition, our national team, Gilas Pilipinas brought Philippine Basketball back to the basketball map, so did the emergence of the Filipino Phenom Kobe Paras who is tearin’ it up in the United States high school basketball league and will most likely be part of the University of California Los Angeles Bruins (a top basketball program in the US NCAA).

Now we go back to the question above. How do you become a professional basketball player?

In a perfect world, a player would work on their game, they would spend hours in the gym lifting weights, run the treadmill, do a lot of training, join camps such as the Milo Best, the Skywalker Camp to name a few. High school players would also have to endure the rigors of competition, as hundreds if not thousands of those kids vie for a spot in an elite collegiate basketball program, not to mention the pressure of winning a championship or two for their alma mater.

The same can be said when a kid plays for a collegiate basketball team, they are expected to win a championship or two, deliver a once crappy collegiate team to respectability or elite level, among other things. There is also the pressure of making a good first impression, not only on both professional and semi-professional team scouts and the fans. The kid also has to worry about his grades because collegiate (even high school) athletes can be cut from a team if they don’t perform well in their academics. And we have to talk about pressure from other sides. Pressure can also come from the (insert name of the university or college here) community, the pressure of winning a championship or at least making it in the Final 4 after God knows how long. Then there’s also the PBA-D League, a stepping stone of sorts, a league where the kid can either play against, or be team mates with, his rivals in college. The D-League is where most of our promising collegiate players improve their craft and learn from former pros and coaches.

Then there’s the PBA Draft. According to a PBADraft.net article, an average PBA player stays in the league for a maximum of 5 years, so the promise of professional glory is not within reach just yet. Promising amateur/collegiate players such as Alex Araneta, Brixter Encarnacion, Ervin Sotto, Tony Boy Espinosa, Ruben Dela Rosa, and Marcy Arellano to name a few, are proof of this. Some of them had decent college careers, others even had great ones, but they ended up being either busts or scrubs that sadly became expendable as younger and hungrier players are ready to beat them over a PBA slot, and there is another factor called injuries.

Players have to work their way into their team’s rotation. A rookie at times would have a hard time cracking the main rotation, except of course if you’re Paul Lee, James Yap, Benjie Paras, Alvin Patrimonio et al.

Then we have the Filipino-Foreigners (Fil-For). A Fil-For has to prove his Filipino lineage in order to play for Asia’s pay for play league. They also have to serve a year or two playing in the PBA D-League before applying for the PBA draft. The Fil-For, like the homegrown athlete has to work their way up to the main rotation.

Making it to the PBA is hard, staying is even harder. Our professional players have to work, sweat, and bleed for every minute they get, every award, accolade and achievement. The crowning glory for every player is of course a championship. Every player would trade their Most Valuable Player award, Rookie of the Year award just to get that elusive trophy.

So again. How do you become a professional basketball player?

For Manny Pacquiao, just be a boxer, an eight division world champion, a singer, a movie and tv celebrity. Manny Pacquiao’s entrance to the PBA is perhaps the darkest day in professional basketball, even worse than the disappointing 2014 Asian Games campaign, more insulting than Robert Jaworski Jr. making it to the PBA. Manny Pacquiao in the PBA (and Chito Salud allowing it to happen) is a spit in the face of every youngster and veteran who worked their way to the PBA.

Months before and after his PBA debut, social media is flooded by people who raise their voice against Pacquiao playing and coaching for KIA, yet some of his fans who are probably blinded by his fame were riding his cock. I know it’s a marketing ploy from the PBA, but it’s still a mockery. Players in the PBA worked and fought for their way to the league (except for him and Dodot) and Pacquiao got an instant entrance to the PBA.

Daniel_Orton

Then we had Daniel Orton, former NBA player and draftee, the same Daniel Orton who you would probably use if your team is bugged by injuries in NBA 2K games, said something that everybody is afraid to say.

“That’s (Pacquiao playing) a joke, part of the joke I’m talking about. Professional boxer? Yeah. Congressman? Alright. But professional basketball player? Seriously? It’s a joke,” he said.

Orton uttered those immortal words after taking a humiliating loss against Pacquiao’s team KIA Carnival. Ignore the fact that Orton played horribly, ignore his 6 points and 3 rebounds, that is a different issue. Pacquiao is not only making a mockery out of the game that I love, the league that I grew up watching, he is also turning it into a damn circus with him as lead clown.

I know Pacquiao is following his dreams, but at what cost? He may have given about 15 slots to other players who want to relive their PBA glory, but he still stole one player’s dream. The slot could have been given to a kid who worked, sweat and bled, won championships, experienced heartaches and disappointments all throughout his amateur career. A player who really deserves it and even a coach who is primed and ready to steer a PBA team. I bet every one of us can name 10 players not playing in the PBA that are better than Pacquiao.

Here’s a thought, would you be proud if a foreigner who likes basketball asked you to watch the game live with him at the Araneta and sees Manny Pacquiao making a complete fool out of himself? Would you tell him how he got there?