Entry of a stranded person no. 3

#3

I hate this life ('this' refers to the real one). It's filled with morons and noises and noises made by those morons. It's filled with the idea that a person's social status directly correlates with the amount of friends they have in Facebook. With people spending hours doing nothing but staring at a computer screen and then worrying about future and not being able to have one while they still manage to do nothing in the present. People typing 'LOOOOL' (which I must also admit to) when 'LOL' stands for 'Laughing out loud', ridiculously 'LOOOOL' must then be translated to 'Laughing out out out out loud'. Grr.

Entry of a stranded person no. 2

#2

The end is nearing. I can feel it. Today as I explored further into this seemingly endless land, the ground beneath me shook. I've always felt that since I got here; small vibrations beneath my bare feet as if wanting to shake me back or an angry roar from the burning core of the planet. But this time was different. I can feel it.

Entry of a stranded person no. 1 (an unsubtle metaphor)

#1

I don't know why I've let it go this far. The island that surrounds me acts as a barrier against the world. The real world. I don't understand how this isn't real if the burning grains of sand I touch that laces through my fingers feel just as real as the rigid concretes of my old life.

'Tis the truth I speak of

When I say you capture my heart

You envelop it between your arms

And deliver life to it's veins

Thank you, my lungs.

(*haha, biology joke)

SON OF A

I'll make this brief, not long and rambl-y (who am I kidding?)

I like swearing.

Not in the mean, swearing at old ladies or children or puppies kind of swearing.

Just swearing out of frustration while you're alone or when you don't think people can hear you.

It's cathartic. A nice feeling of release like when you punch pillows except this is less tiring.

I don't think swearing is a bad thing as long as you don't use it to hurt people.

But that would almost be the same as saying it's okay to shoot guns as long as you don't aim.

Though you can't really kill people by swearing.

So, swear moderately.

It's good for you.

ABNKKBSNPLAko?!

It sucks when you don't realise how important something is... and sure, this vague entrance towards this post may make it seem like some sort of sappy whining and moaning about a boy but it's not. It's more like something that makes you unique and self-defining and the fear of that something as it slowly slips away from your grasp.

So I thought it would be good to try to get into some literature from my language. I didn't want to start with some deep filipino-translation of any Jose Rizal works quite so soon because that seems to equivalent giving a 5 year old Jane Eyre instead of a nice picture book (though i didn't want to start with picture books either) so I thought I would begin with some modern-humour kind of things.

Bob Ong is awesome.

I haven't read much of his work but from most of what I've read so far he is awesome. So here's a brief translation from 'ABNKKBSNPLAko?!' (take note that I'm not a professional translator and I'm just sharing a part that amuses me)

For:

Teachers

Students

Ones who used to be students

Ones who don't want to be students

Drop outs

Kick outs

Transferees

Cross-enrolled

And honour students

...

But being able to read is not a joke, it's a rite of passage. If you can read you are baptised to what they call 'literate'. You can read the lies from the newspapers, subtitles from foreign films and vandalism on the seats of busses like 'The person reading this is an idiot'

A Christmas Story

Though Christmas technically finished a few hours ago (is that cheating? it's cheating isn't it?)

Once there was a boy named Nicholas, and perhaps by the name itself you immediately assume this is a tale about Santa Claus' childhood and sharing etc. but he was just a boy. Named Nicholas.

Nicholas wasn't particularly the nicest child, in fact he was the complete opposite; he hated anything that brought joy to children or old people or even his dog, Ben Kenobi. Often he would go out of his way to cause trouble to people by doing horrible, and unimaginable things (e.g breaking snowmen and stuffing postboxes with peanuts... the maniac).

An old woman then approached him and promised that he would have the worst Christmas of his life ever because the old woman was allergic to peanuts and she couldn't approach her postbox for days. Imagine not being able to read your post— no, I do not want you, my reader, to even suffer the traumatising state.

Christmas was fast approaching, Nicholas-- taking no regard of what the old woman said--continued to spread havoc around the town. Until, alas, it was Christmas morning.

Nicholas walked slowly down the steps... not like he believed what the old woman said, it's just... general caution. Maybe his eyes were slightly closed as he neared the tree, carefully peeking... the sight in front of him elicited a gasp from his mouth...

THE AWESOMEST PRESENT EVER POSSIBLE. It was a Nintendo 64!

But there was no cable to plug it to his screen.

He sobbed, gently hugging the cable-less console as he promised never to be bad ever again.

On the other side of the room, his dog Ben Kenobi happily chewed on the cable.

The end.

Merry Christmas.