Saturday, August 9, 2008

give it back to me

“do you love me...?” said my niece with curious eyes, batting lashes, and grinning smile, the face and aura of a 5-year old child who assumed old enough to understand that phrase.

Actually, it was really about love but on a different level. It was siesta time and I was turning the leaves of a book about the differences between men and women. I was on the 199th page talking about “why men love oral sex and why some women see it as a gross thing”, of course with that kind of topic, you’d be snooping. So I was grinning and my balls (of my eye not the one hanging down) were stuffed with curiosity. My niece caught me with that animation and obviously directly caught her own attention too. She jumped off on me and grabbed the book on my hand. “That’s not yours”, I told her in an authoritarian tone. Sheesh! That just stirred her inquisitive sponge-mind. Her eyes got widened and ran away from me with her fingers marking the page that I was scanning at. Then, “do you love me...?” said my niece with curious eyes, batting lashes, and grinning smile, the face and aura of a 5-year old child who assumed old enough to understand that phrase. I pulled the book from her but she pulled it back. I grabbed it again but she’s tough enough to grab it away from me. Then we had the giggling chase, I acted as if I was a monster on a deep forest groaning “brringg it back to meeee” and she was shrieking, “This is mine, mine”. My niece has an enormous energy that tired me off. The time I caught her, I stood in front of her and started my melodrama, “Stay, that’s my book and that’s for adult, and some words might confuse you. If you’re like tito na, I’ll give that to you. For the mean time, you read your books, okay?” She knitted her brow but then she calmly gave back the book to me. It worked! Yahoo!

Thought: pwede na ko maging dad, lol.

N.B.: treat kiddos like real adult, just give em’ your right justification and they’ll understand you, and one more thing, parenting is a very hard job. I adore parents who have the right tactics of disciplining their children. Last point, when I say tactics, it is the mix of laughter, melodrama, and right communication not the villain-acts of blowing in a fairy tale story.

Gene hooks smokers at first puff

Puffing on a first cigarette is a rite of passage for many teenagers, but whether it is enjoyable may be partly down to genetics, researchers suggest.
University of Michigan scientists have identified a gene variant found more often in people who said their first cigarette produced a "buzz".
These people were much more likely to go on to become regular smokers, the journal Addiction reports. The researchers say the finding may help development of anti-smoking drugs. A person's decision to smoke for the first time, or carry on smoking, is not thought to be governed solely by his or her genes, but a mixture of genes, environmental factors and social pressures. However, scientists are hoping that by cracking the genetic secrets of nicotine addiction, they could make it easier for people to wean themselves off cigarettes, or even stop them taking up the habit in the first place.
full article click here

Friday, August 8, 2008

my own battle

All right, the lights are off. He sneaks on the room for the third time to check if his folks are already snoozing. He tiptoes on flight down the stairs. He boils water and prepares a mug and a bottle chiller, both with muscovado sugar, spoonfuls of Nescafe coffee and creamer. He fills the whole mug with boiling water and ¼ full to the chiller then adds cold water on it and puts aside on the fridge. He drinks the hot coffee in one shot and he’s done. Ready. Prepared to do what he has planned, a drift.
He cuts two strips of scotch tape, turns the light off and goes out silently. After locking the door, he puts the key just above his groin and seals it with the strips of scotch tape. He’s cautious and thinks about safety, always. He has the alarm that if ever he loses the key, someone might get it and goof around in their house. That is why by doing that bizarre fixation makes him feel secured. He always anticipates danger. He is afraid of it but he is ready to face it. Being ahead of himself is another channel of security, thinking about all the possibilities in life that might happen, especially the dreadful ones. He goes out of the gate and checks the vicinity. The store in front of their compound is already closed. He walks through Sampaloc Street going to the main road. On his way, he sees three men talking on the side streets under the gloomy illumination of the moon. He takes off his intent look and bows his head immediately.
Okay, I am not alone. There are still jerks walking here, nocturnal, just like me. Meaningless…Meaningless...
He sighs. The “balut” vendor is fully awake retailing her products on the corner of Sampaloc and Kamagong Avenue. He looks around and sees a man standing outside on one of the units of the building, settled in the dark along the length of Kamagong.
Okay, don’t look at him. He’s dangerous. Oh my, be casual man. Act as if you’re part of the hours of darkness. Damn, this is my first time to go out at this time. Jerk! You’re already here. Be casual.
There are still jeepneys passing by, only a few. He looks across the road and catches sight of the old buildings, as if they’re on putrid collapse in the city’s evolution. The post lights shed a faint orange beam on the road.
Okay, relax. You said you want to loosen up. Here it is, chill out man.
He takes a walk further and further til’ he sees a sari-sari store.
Tao po, knocking a one-peso coin against the steel bar of the store’s panel
Ano yun?
Marlbora lights, isa lang
Isa lang?
The vendor frowns.
He lights up the cigarette and walks on the other side of the road.
I am depressed. You’re not. Depressed persons aren’t aware of their condition. So I’m not depressed? I ain’t know that. Still I am depressed. You’re not. That’s what you call, typical sadness. So I am sad, full of apathy. Yeah, maybe just a typical sadness.
He puffs and savors the nicotine blast. He looks around, catching the glimpse of the nighttime. He sees the night just like him, dark, lonely, deep.
What now? Im thinking okay. Gimme a time. You have other plans right? Look at you, what happened to the man that I used to know, the future-oriented jerk, the safe, the ambitious man. He’s just gone. Nothing’s left. Meaningless, meaningless. Everything is meaningless.
Then there’s a group of man walking on his way, the bling-bling men.
Fuck! The useless pricks are here, dammit! So you’re scared? I’m not, are you? Stop pretending, you’re trembling man. I’m not.
He is pretty scared, but behind his mind, there’s a voice soliciting pain.
Stab my back please, kill me, now. You’re scared to die. I’m not. Obviously you are. I have nothing to lose because everything is gone. The old me is nothing, meaningless. He closes his eyes and opens it after he sensed that the “jerks” are gone.
C’mon man, let’s just go home. Don’t look for something here because you’ll find nothing. Look inside. I’m afraid to look inside. For what reason? I’m afraid of the junks that I stored there, and scared of...Of? Nothing. See, you haven’t lost everything, you just need to sort it out. Sighs! Okay, let’s just go home.

Do not fret for what is not there. Do not always pine for the good old days, the good old days.

Sometimes the biggest battle is the struggle within us, when the unconscious talks and the id desires for its materialization. We tend to fold our emotions, hide it at the back of our minds, waiting for the perfect time of explosion. And sometimes we even fake ourselves just to reduce the pain, the disturbance in our thoughts, even in a nick of time. Sadness, typical sadness as I call it, the fracas in the core of our heart and soul, hunts us down til’ we’re dead to the world. “BUT” instead of fighting it off, try to ride on it. Ride on the moment of typical sadness. It isn’t bad at all. Do not fear sadness for it brings glory in the end - realization, wisdom, and even the reason of our existence, “to be happy”.

"One World One Dream"

This is the day!!! Go team PI!

"One World One Dream"
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Thursday, August 7, 2008

Courtship, copulation, and other sexual acts in the animal kingdom: just save the pink

With most species of fish, there is little or no contact between the male and female. The male merely deposits the sperm over the eggs after they’ve been released by the female. After the brief interlude, the lovers may go their separate ways, never to meet again.

When the female elephant comes into estrus, she selects a mate. This marks the beginning of a very close, affectionate relationship. At first, she’s very coy and flirtatious, alternately inviting the bull’s advances and then running away from him. During the courtship of several months, they’re inseparable. Playing touching, stroking, petting and mooing. The male displays remarkable restraint and only at the end of the long courtship – and only at the female’s invitation – does he consummate the relationship in copulation.

The rank or pecking order is of great importance to the raven. When a dominant female, high in the ranking order of the group, pairs with a submissive low-ranking male, she will adopt male behavior – even taking the superior position during copulation. In such a relationship, the male accepts the submissive role along with other female behavior patterns.

The male snake first rapdly flicks out his tongue while following the female around and attempting to crawl ove her. The courtship behavior in many snakes is controlled by pheromones, produced by a specialized gland on the female’s back. By her odor, he knows whether or not she is the correct mate. Instead of having single penis fro injection, the male has two, one on either side of the tail. They are both fully potent and barbed; however, he does not put in both penises simultaneously.

Before he can woo a female sparrow, a male sparrow must have a nest. It does not matter if the nest is straggly and untidy, for later the two mates can clean it up and make it more presentable. The important thing is that the male have some sort of nest. Females will have nothing to do with male sparrows without property.

The polecat places his paws on the female’s shoulder and bites her neck, inducing for fifteen minutes a condition of muscular paralysis.

The tiny male spider approaches his relatively huge mate and begins to couple. The female devours him in act of copulatory cannibalism. She chews away the head, leaving the rest of the male’s body sexually functional, so his sperm can pass into her body. The male tarantula has a pair of curved appendages on his front legs with which he holds open the female’s jaws so that she cannot snap at him during mating.

The female bat, after copulation, emits a loud squeal which, it has been suggested, acts as a signal to other females to choose the same male for a mate.

Wednesday, August 6, 2008

in contact with nature, somewhere in the south

You Don't Mess with the Zohan

You Don’t Mess with the Zohan. The first half was okay; I chuckled and had the “lol” turn of phrase, somehow. But the next half was damn lackluster with Adam Sandler’s worn-out itch of his prick punch lines; prick for massaging, disk jockeying, and for reviving the geriatric’s “Ooooh ahhhh hmmmhmmm feels great” moments. Anyways, it is about the bionic Israeli who fakes his death and goes to New York to fulfill his dream of being a hairstylist. The movie has gags about the Israeli-Palestine conflicts, and conflicts to some delusional Yankees. It isn’t a good movie and emphatically not a thumbs up movie of Adam Sandler, but it isn’t bad at all, just to be fair.
I guess it is the changeover of comedy movie right now, losing its substance of handling a cryptic lesson to the viewers by an amusing line of attack. Just like the baloney Epic Movie, Borat and other sexual-comedy movies, the rise of new genre. But when you’re feeling so stupidly emo, this kind of movie is recommended for you, to blow out the shit out of hell. Rating: Two and a half stars, out of five.

Monday, August 4, 2008

is it true?

What do men like about FHM?
Is it the dose of educational substance on it? (Nods)
Or the sex tips? (big grin)
Or the sultry pictures (pants like a dog with tongue out and drooling)
Or maybe the ladies confession, bar jokes, and the true stories (maybe)

All right!
To tell the truth, buying an FHM mag isn’t my hobby. I’d rather buy an old, rotten, and dust-smelly 25 pesoseses book on sale. But my sister has ample issues of FHM that i used to gobble before (phony). Anyways, why am I taking time to write about FHM for the fact that I hate sultry images (another hypocrisy).
Okay, I was at the mall last Sunday when a friend (can’t find the right term, but for the stuff that he did, I might consider calling him one, for the moment) of mine sent me this text message “tol grab a copy, andun na”. I knew what he meant by that. Then, another text message from a friend (can’t find the right term too) saying the same thought. All right! Was it a good reason for me to sprint to the nearest bookstore? Yeah, valid with an inch point, I did run. I browsed the shelves and finally got the mag. I opened the freshly displayed FHM Aug. issue. Whoa! It was there. Well, I felt a sudden thrill. My filthy experience was there, hard copy, and circulating around PI.

Well, is it a good reason for me to buy FHM?

nah! Its too expensive, a slash on my wallet. lol.
What can I say, baka (not the jap word),dude, thumbs up!nakakatuwa rin,lol.

silence is...

She talks
He talks
They talk
A lot
Thoughtless thoughts
But what I need is only a seven-letter word
Silence. Period.

Silence is the comfort of not saying a single word but you know that you’re understood. It’s like sitting on the couch with your best friend. You read a book while sipping a pot of coffee and then she’s there flipping the pages of her favorite chic magazine while drinking her favorite chamomile tea. You both enjoy the presence of each other while drifting to your own distinct world. It is the comfort of silence, the feeling of security without uttering a single word.

Another example of silence is the aftermath of skirmish. Instead of throwing the hot potato and cursing the hell out of you, you prefer to keep still and let your heart speak for you. And then after a while, you reach out and tap the person’s shoulder, the relief of load without uttering a single word.

Sometimes I really wonder why some persons get too surprised when you avail yourself the comfort of silence. Is it forbidden? It is unusual. Only few could take pleasure in silence.

Silence isn’t just the mere absence of noise.
You could find silence even in the busiest street.
Silence is like music, a lullaby that sways your soul inward.
Silence isn’t unheeding.
Silence lets you hear the clandestine
The slightest tough
The heartbeat
The blow of the wind
The dance of the droplets
Anything beyond the human senses
Silence isn’t black, white, blank or bland
Silence is vibrant just like the rainbow that ends in the pot of comfort
Silence isn’t apathy
Silence communicates further than the mouth’s ability
Silence isn’t confined, not boxed in your world.
Silence imbues everything, even the hardest heart.
It is comfort, security, relief, and
Silence is a submission of sincere heart