Month: May 2013

Lost Forever, But Never Again

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“Fine art is something wonderful that’s left long into the future … eternal beauty.”

-Sasori, Naruto

“The internet’s not written in pencil, it’s written in ink”

-Erica Albright, The Social Network

When you write, the memory of an event, thought, or emotion is preserved and eternalized, unless you lose it. However, in this day and age, it’s less likely to lose your writings unless you actually delete it or post it online and it gets taken down. And recently, the latter has happened to me. It’s quite tragic, really.

My writing, two years’ worth of it, is now gone forever, without any way for it to be retrieved, all thanks to multiply.com shifting its paradigm from a blog site into a marketing site. The site happythreefriends.multiply.com is no more, and it’s all my damn fault for not knowing that heeding that they’ll be changing their format and will be deleting all user-generated content. I only saved the photographs, but not my writings. I just lived my life the way I always do. And now I suffer the loss of a written past.

Even though it was a site that I sometimes would cringe at whenever I read because of the rather inexperienced style I had before, it was an important relic that reminded me of my roots, memories, thoughts, and feelings that spanned from my sophomore year until a few days after becoming a senior, and the beginning of my passion’s ignition. And last but not least, it was the foundation of the mythology of the hopeless romantic warrior-poet that is I. God, the multiple universes, heaven and the angels, brotherhood and our battles, friends and our feasts, the goddess and Aya Toujo – my tales would rival those of whatever ancient civilization there is.

But unlike them, there would be no record of my past glory. Unlike them, I was unwise. I did not write in stone or even paper. I put too much trust on the internet. It may be written in ink just like Erica Albright said, but you can only write with ink on paper, paper that can easily be torn and burned, and the internet is much, much more vulnerable compared to a single sheet of paper. With a press of a button, a thousand universes that took eons to be created can be sent to oblivion. And now that I have realized that rather grim truth, I am now prepared.

I could no longer afford to lose any more of my writings. I will be vigilant for any announcements on the collapse of Tumblr and WordPress, which hopefully isn’t anytime soon. Also, I will be writing on Word first so that I would have a copy in my hard drive in case I actually fail to watch out for the deletion of my blog sites. Through these simple steps, my writings – records of my thoughts, my emotions, my myths, my realities, and my life will be preserved and see the future to serve as a link to the past and of a temporal reality to a never-ending fantasy.

My writings, whether they spread like wildfire or remain confined to a small sector of the internet, will last for an eternity, waiting for souls to lay its eyes upon it. As they read word after word, I shall live again as well in their hearts and minds. And just like what Sasori said, my works and I shall become eternally beautiful fine works of art.

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If Love Is A Crime, Then I’d Probably Read A Manga From A Genre I Don’t Usually Read

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What in God’s name did I just read?

I’m not the type who reads tragedy or heavy drama because it greatly affects me in a negative way. I mean, enough bad things happen in real life, I pretty much don’t need more of it in my personal doses of fiction. However, because of my sense of depravity, optimism, and romance, I did not only read Prison School, I enjoyed every minute of it and finished all 63 available chapters of it, even reading it in the workplace despite the rather questionable content.

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If you’re not one who can tolerate stories that involve protagonists being subjected to seemingly endless torment and suffering, then I wouldn’t recommend Prison School to you. And don’t trust the synopsis in manga sites, as it is actually about five boys in a newly co-ed school who got caught peeking and were subjected to being held in “prison” by the underground student council, headed by a misandrist president. If that’s not bad enough, let’s add in a vice-president who doubles like a warden in a school uniform warped to look like a dominatrix’s garb who tortures them every day as well as a mentally unstable prude who’s a mentally screwed-up martial arts master who makes every possible way to see the main protagonist’s member. Still not cracking eh? Let’s throw in a final twist of fate – your love interest who’s angelic in terms of beauty and kindness is the president’s precious little sister. Planning to no longer read it? NOT ME. Especially when the protagonist’s love interest is angelic in terms of beauty and kindness.

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It’s a total enigma what made it such a page-turner. Could it be the top-notch art and the beautiful girls? Or is it the awfully depraved fanservice and humor deeply rooted in female domination, masochism, sadism, and human misfortune in general? I don’t know about you guys, because even though being dominated by a whip-wielding girl in leather is definitely a good thing, the latter is definitely not my reason, especially when it already crossed the line between role play and doing it for real. In fact, I’m finding the tragedies the boys encounter exponentially harder to take than Shingeki no Kyojin, which has a premise that consists of the last packet of humanity fighting endless hordes of colossal beings. Wanna know the drive that makes me turn the pages? It is the hope for the boys to be free and the main protagonist, Kiyoshi, to end up with his sweet girl Chiyo, as well as for Shinjo to end up with Anzu. Can’t help but remember college…

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Back then, I dealt with girls who are almost the same as the underground student council minus the almost nudity and the physical chastising. They made me do their errands, spend my dough for their sake, and turned me into a clown, only to end up with our so-called “friendship” forgotten a few months after graduation. At least the underground student council is hot and honest with themselves, unlike my former classmates and lady “friends”. And back then, I didn’t have anyone who’s just like Chiyo or Anzu. Nobody was. Nobody still is.

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Romance-wise, I would’ve chosen Prison School over the college education, the work I’ve had, as well as the current life I’m having, because as long as I’d have a girl like Chiyo or Anzu who is waiting for me – beautiful inside out, understanding, and is an actually normal girl unlike the members of the underground student council who evoke every single feminazi trope there is, all the torture they would throw at me would be nothing but a mere pinprick.

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Seriously James, all that punishment you don’t deserve for just one girl? You have no idea. Some men would go to jail for a girl like Chiyo or Anzu. But I’m not just like some men. For her, I’d stay in jail. And when I’m out, I’ll be serving time again, because love is a crime, and I’ll be her prisoner.  She’ll lock me up deep inside her heart and give me the keys, because she knows that I’ll never escape.

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I still can’t believe I’m reading something I don’t usually do so because of a love story. The author better  give Chiyo and Kiyoshi as well as Shinjo and Anzu a good ending or else I swear I’ll make prison sound like heaven to the ears of that sexist masochist.

This entry was posted in Cupid's Corner, Girl Talk, Otaku Stuff, The Temple of Eros and tagged , , , .

Dream Blog: Beauty And The Breasts [NSFW]

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I’ve been visiting sites a morally upright citizen should not be visiting, so the Sandman became Fate’s agent and gave me a little tit for tat…

Last night I dreamt about a girl who I’ll codename as “Erich”, a cosplayer girl who I’m personally acquainted with. Chinita, fair-skinned, with black hair up to her shoulders, petite – “lolita” for short, as how an otaku would put it. Anyway, in my dream, she wasn’t a flat-chested loli, but a grown woman with a soft-looking, fleshy, and voluptuous skin and well-developed features, especially her breasts, which are flat as a floor in reality. And of all the places I met up with her, it was in my own shower room.

I didn’t know why and how my shower room got so big (had no intention of knowing either), but she was there, on all fours, wearing nothing but a towel to cover her arousing body. I didn’t know what she was doing either, but she was probably looking for something (probably and hopefully soap). And then, unexpectedly and thankfully, a part of the towel fell off, uncovering her lovely and sizable breasts shaped like two perfect cups of milk gelatin as well as the cherries on top. The towel hits the wet floor but she does not press it back against her chest, and then she raises her head to meet my gaze as if she was perfectly aware of my presence and wasn’t a few inches of fabric short of being stark naked in front of a heterosexual male who has been longing for a sexy and desirable female almost all his life. I look at her jet-black eyes as she greets me “Hi Kuya James”, and I was left speechless…just like a scene taken straight from an ecchi anime. Then someone knocks at the shower room’s door, and everything pretty much gets hazy from that point on, ruining what could’ve been more fap material.

Damn, what I wouldn’t give to see her beauty and her breasts with my own two eyes instead of it being just a mere projection of the subconscious. Too bad that’s probably never going to happen, unless her frame radically changes to just like how I envisioned it and I become some sort of cosplay casanova who can lull girls to coming to bed with me. And too bad dreams don’t usually have a rerun or part two.

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Mama’s Man? (A Mother’s Day Special)

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“And be a simple, kind of man.
Oh be something, you love and understand.
Baby be a simple, kind of man.
Oh, won’t you do this for me son,
If you can?”

-Lynyrd Skynyrd, Simple Man

I was a mama’s boy when I was a kid. How can I not be one? As a child, she woke me up for school, serves me breakfast, heats up my bathwater, and cooks my lunch. By the time I get home, be it just in time for dinner or even if it’s way past that, there’s always food on the table to make sure I’m not hungry. Whenever there’s a sale at our local mall, she takes us out to buy clothes, watch a movie, and eat. And if ever I get sick, she would always cook me food appropriate for my condition, give me medicine, and takes me to a doctor if it seems as if it’s going to be really bad. This went on up until college…oh alright I admit, it still goes on up until now (except for the wake up part because I’m currently on a PM shift). I’m a mama’s boy. Except that I’m no longer a boy. I’m twenty-two, a young adult – a man. I’m a mama’s man.

It’s embarrassing really. Well, not really, because it’s actually convenient. Not that I’m feeding off mother’s kindness, but why should I be ashamed if she still takes care of me? I mean, I can take care of myself, it’s just that mother actually takes care of me better. And not only does she takes care of me, she also listens to my never-ending and redundant rantings, gives me advice, and tries to understand my idiosyncrasies even though there’s that oh-so-problematic generation gap. However, there seems to be one problem…

Even if I choose to never get married and live with my folks instead, the time will come when mother will be entering heaven. No more of her cooking. No more of her advices. Well, I’d probably have a wife who’d take care of me, cook me food, wake me in the morning, and give me advice – but there’s just something in the way mother does things, that tender-loving care only she could deliver. Wait, maybe I shouldn’t be thinking of something quite morbid on Mother’s Day. Then again, it’s not morbid – it’s realistic. It’s not a question of if, but a question of when.

It’s going to happen, so I should learn to show much I love mother while she’s here with us. I should stop doing stupid stuff that isn’t helping me. I’ll take care of myself better because she won’t be always there to look out for me, plus it’d leave her sacrifices in vain if I abuse myself. I’ll do chores again so that she could have more rest time, after all she’s turning fifty-four this year, it’s high time she took a backseat from all the housework. I’ll try to learn to cook so that I wouldn’t have to depend on her always for food and make her proud, not to mention that girls like boys who can cook. I’ll get a better job or go back to school and pursue what I actually want. I’ll get a decent wife and raise my children well. I’ll be the man I have always wanted to be, a man that would make mother proud, a man that would make the people around him think that his mother raised him well – mama’s man. Damn, I hope I’d actually make good on these promises…

Dear Mama,

It’s 12:24AM already, so Belated Happy Mother’s Day. I could not thank God enough for giving me you, and I could not thank you enough for loving, caring, and sacrificing for me so much up until now, even though you can practically kick me out of the house and fend for myself. Thanks to you, I am what I am today. I know that you’re proud of me, but I’ll make you even prouder. I’ll make you more thankful to God for helping you in raising me. For you I’ll be the best me I can ever be. For you I’ll be a man full of virtues and love for God and His people. I love you, Mama. :’)

This entry was posted in Friends and Family, Lost In Thought and tagged , , , , , .

Just A Short Election Lesson

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I’m not really one to post something political, but the patriot in me is stirring me to do so since elections are coming this Monday.

I don’t really have anything to tell you guys. I don’t have anyone who I’d recommend you guys to vote for. Heck, I don’t have anyone in mind to vote for as well. All I know is that I’m not voting any traditional politicians, so you guys shouldn’t as well. Don’t just vote on who you think would be a good government official – vote on who will actually do so. Don’t just follow your gut instinct or listen to their propaganda. NEVER BELIEVE WHAT THEY SAY! After all…

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Do research, read the papers especially past ones, use the internet – it’s the Information Age for Christ’s sake. This is the fate of the country in the next three years, leave it not to your feelings, but to sound judgement and rational thinking. The power is in our hands – give it to the right people.

And to our future senators, whoever would win, deserving or otherwise…valvrave7If you’re into this for public service, then good for you. If not, then you better clean up your act and not waste the precious faith, hope, and trust the people has thrust upon you. Should you choose not to, the people, or even worse – divine retribution, will show you the error of your ways.

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Outsourced Outrage

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Honestly, I didn’t want to write about work again because I try not to have two negative posts in a row, but I just can’t take it anymore – I have to actually do this to feel have some sort of release because it’s eating me up from the inside out.

It all began last Thursday. We were asked if we’d be working on Monday, which is supposed to be a special holiday because of the upcoming senatorial elections. We all decided not to work – a right given to us by God and the Philippine Constitution. It is the first time this has happened, and it probably came off as a shocker to the higher-ups, who overreacted and declared an unfair, ungodly, and unconstitutional mandate – to have us all go to work on Monday or face the curse of “The Memo”.

Then there’s another incident when one of my higher-ups from the client’s side, who we’ll hide by the code “K”, reminded me of a certain set of instructions from him, which I thought was already overrode by a set of instructions from “F”, another higher-up. I was going to tell K that I wasn’t able to follow him because F gave me another set of instructions, but apparently I couldn’t say that because that would cause trouble between F and K, so I was told to just take the flak for F, apologize to K, and just follow his instruction from that point on. Why doesn’t K know F’s set of unnecessary and redundant instructions? And why I couldn’t point F to K when she’s the one who caused this? Is it because it would reveal that there is dissonance among the client’s side? Why do the agents have to be like crash test dummies who’d take the damn hit every single time? The answers to these questions are painfully obvious, but can never ever be raised thanks to the very nature of outsourcing.

I have worked in an outsourcing company before. I know that the higher-ups suck up to the client in the name of company profit, even to the point of treating their employees as mere disposable tools of production as well as scapegoats whenever problems arise, and I just simply cannot take it.  I can take working during the clients’ daytime – which is afternoon until dawn in our country under a salary that would leave me scraping by if I moved out of my folks’ place. I can take heavy workloads and do overtime, even everyday, even if I no longer have much time for myself, family, and friends. But to have me look like an idiot just to cover their asses and deny us of our right to vote and rest up afterwards just like the rest of the country – I can’t let something like that pass.

Just because they pay us doesn’t mean that they can treat us however they wish. They need us just as much as we need them. In fact, I honestly think that they need us more than we need them, they just happen to be preying on our desperation to find employment, thanks to the fact that there isn’t much in our country, and I hate it. I hate how we are so desperate to the point that we’re just going to accept whatever conditions they have, even if it deviates from what is normal or what is right and fair, even if both the pay as well as the opportunities for growth isn’t so much.

The fact that we’re not earning just as much as an employee with the same job on their shores is already unfair, and then the client as well as the company gets upset because we’re costing them more money because of our overtime. WHAT!? Honestly, if it was up to me I’d rather have them keep their filthy few hundred pesos because I’d rather go home early and do the things I want, but I have a responsibility to fulfill, so I go overtime, and now they’re saying that we need to be more efficient and pull our act together as a team to reduce the absences so that they could cut costs. Well, if that’s the case, they’re going to have to choose between sticking to how things currently are or deal with a lot of backlogs, because we’re definitely not doing OTY, we’re not charity workers or volunteers.

Okay, I’ve officially got things off my chest, although it didn’t help much because I still hate them with a passion. I swear to God, I wish to see an uprising of all the employees in our workplace so that production would come to a screeching halt to make the company and the client realize who has the true power when all their chokeholds and deterrence mean nothing. A successful rebellion of the Filipino outsourcing industry employee as a whole against the clients who can only think of minimizing costs while maximizing production at our expense as well as the company who only knows how to nod their heads to whatever the client says – to say that such a scene would be glorious is a definite understatement, although I doubt it would ever come into fruition, unless we would all unite.

Should such an event become a total impossibility, I could always count on divine retribution to bite back their asses so hard that their precious money that they milked from us could not mend whatever damage.

This entry was posted in Lost In Thought, Stories Of My Life and tagged , , , , , .

Work To Live Life, Work To Live, Live To Work

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Work to live, not the other way around – that is what I have always believed in. Work in order to obtain money – the key to obtain almost all of the things in this world, be it a necessity or a luxury. As for me, I work so that I would have money for my hobbies such as cosplay or anything otaku-related, gaming, movies, food, occasionally travel, and simply just hanging out. Aside from such reasons, I work so that I wouldn’t be a hikikomori/NEET, as well as be able to meet new people, gain new friends, and expand my circles, horizons, and view of the world. Yes, work is my means to live life, but sometimes it’s interfering with the reason why I work in the first place.

I will be blunt and blatant – I do not like my job. It is repetitive, restraining, pays quite low, and offers no to little growth. Just like every self-respecting working class hero, I will not reveal the exact figure of how much I receive every month, but it’s only a few pesos above minimum wage. Heck, it’s so low that if I’d be barely scraping by and wouldn’t be able to do the things I do if I didn’t live with my folks. And even though I already live with my folks, it still feels as if whatever I take home twice a month is barely enough to fuel my lifestyle. Then again, my lifestyle really is quite an expensive one. However, I used to have no problems living this way back when I was still in Teleperformance. Well, I didn’t save Php1000 every payout last time unlike now. Damn, this whole wage computation is playing with my damn head.

Aside from that, there’s the fact that I need to go overtime quite a lot because I need to do the work of someone who has already left as well those who are absent for that day. Although it’s good because I have no choice but to go overtime and do it, I’d rather go home early and get some sleep. Besides, what should be a reward for me for going beyond the call of duty is still milked by the government. They didn’t help me with my extra workload (as well as regular workload), they don’t even do their job and serve us the tax-paying people of the Philippines, yet they get a share of my hard-earned dough, AND STILL GET A SHARE OF WHAT SHOULD BE MINE ALONE BECAUSE I HAVE BEEN A DILIGENT EMPLOYEE! Anyway, aside from the fact that nothing much is gained despite doing more, I don’t think that whatever little morsels I’ll be getting from overtime would be enough to cover my medical expenses should I get sick from sleep deprivation. But what can I do? What must be done MUST BE DONE, so I just grin and bear it with a heavy heart and just act up like I’ve hit a gold mine thanks to what I got from overtime.

Last but not least, there’s the fact that what I do in my job is so pretentiously crucial that it’s so damn tough to secure even just a day off, as I have to endorse my work to someone else and failure to do so means a day off denied. I mean, so what if my job gets delayed for just a day? Will someone die or get seriously hurt? Will the company lose millions? Will a massive cataclysm befall upon the planet? If no, then WHY THE HELL IS IT SO HARD TO GET SOME TIME FOR SOMETHING PERSONAL?! It’s not like I’m going to do the same thing everyday anyway. Pay that is just enough for me to live, killer eternal graveyard work schedule, work that I do for others,

My job is not a job that I studied fourteen years for, not something my folks paid almost millions worth of tuition for, and not something I got my degree worth four years of blood, sweat, tears, urine, excreta, pus, mucus, and other bodily fluids for (I’m a graduate of BS Nursing and is a registered nurse if you don’t know yet. Surprise surprise!). However, I chose this job because I can’t be the idealistic young adult who thinks he’d land in a job related to his course, passion, or talent because I’m growing old, in need of experience, and cannot afford to waste weeks and months looking for nonexistent opportunities. But I doubt experience from my job would even count. In the end, just like what I said previously, work is my means to live life…for now. Because I doubt I could do this forever. After all, my folks won’t always be around. It’s either they pass on or I get a family of my own, whichever comes first, then I’m really going to have to work to live. I wonder how hard that’s going to get…

Well, no matter what happens, I’ll never live to work. Unless work involves some sort of dream job. Then again, I don’t think it’s called a job or work if it’s something you like doing…

This entry was posted in Lost In Thought, Stories Of My Life and tagged , , , .