Earthquake!

Just recently, a 4.0 magnitude earthquake shook some areas of the province of Iloilo at exactly 10:50 PM, which, judging from my PC clock, was an hour or so ago. I was playing a single player game of Stronghold when all of a sudden the PC desk started shaking, as well as the ceiling fan. Not only that, the lights were flickering and I could sense that something destructive might come. Fortunately, the tremors didn't last long, lasting only seconds. It was a relief for my family's part. Still, during the shaking, I felt an adrenaline rush thinking that the quake would intensify, and it would leave me and my family a dilemma.

It's a good thing the quake didn't intensify into a massive, violent tremor that would leave Iloilo in wreckage.

And it's a good thing that there were no casualties. But as far as I'm concerned, earthquakes can come unexpectedly. We can be caught off guard by those tremors. So it's better to be prepared than to suffer in the end, as many will say.

I'll end right here. There are more earthquake-related stories I need to tell, but this lad's going to bed. All this talk about earthquakes makes me feel drowsy. Nightie night dudes and dudettes. -_-

Random Rantings.

Everything is crap. The system. The whole social structure. Oh, why must we suffer under such circumstances?  It is as if we are living in a decaying world, where society is fucked up by ideologies and political oppression. Where are the real human beings? Where the hell are they? Sitting in their offices that's for sure; and they call themselves leaders amidst the scandals they have committed. Is there such thing as an honest, trustworthy, goody-two-shoes politician? No. Most of them are dead. Turned into greedy zombies that devour everything they lay their disgusting, pig-like hands on. And we don't want a greedy, money loving zombie in any public office now, do we?

The reason why this country is getting crappier every year is that we voted for people who care more about themselves; who doesn't give a rat-ass about the condition of this nation. Like Frankenstein, we are the ones who are responsible for the existence of megalomaniacs.

So, come May 10, as we go to our respective precincts and exercise our right to choose; we must bear in mind that we are voting not for the benefit of the a single person, but for a brighter future for the Filipino Nation.

With that, I will leave a simple, yet provocative message to the voters: "Vote wisely... if not... then we're all going to rot with the dead."

Summer vacations are getting boring every year!

I'm not being a kill joy here, but seriously, summer is being a bitch! The heat. The boredom. The unusual feeling that you miss school for some forsaken reason. Before, I kept myself on an ecstatic frenzy whenever the whole vacation starts. But now, things have taken a different streak. Summer is killing me... slowly. Like a razor blade attempting to decapitate you second by slow second.

I have no places to go. No other activities to do. No amusing stuff to cheer me up. I may as well spend every single minute of my vacation furnishing my drawing skills. That way, I can be distracted from the blistering heat.

Oh, how I want this summer to end!

Oh, and speaking of drawings, I'm still having thoughts on posting some of my works on this blog. Pretty soon, perhaps.

Artworks

Do you know what this blog is lacking right now? Artworks.

I'm planning on posting some of my works on this blog. Not that I want to show-off. So expect a lot of sketches I did during my first year of college to be posted on this blog. But for the meantime, let me indulge myself with some eye-candy I found on the net. @_@

Peace yo!

Urban Tones

An artist in his flat,
splashing colors to fill the canvass

A young poet resting on a hammock,
reminiscing dreams when he was still naive

A hotheaded cab driver
cursing at the jeepney in front of him

A stoner, alone in an attic,
feeling a little dazed by illusions

A student activist, raising his fist in the air,
screaming, ranting of what should've been done

A smoker beside a STOP sign,
breathin, experiencing urban life

A gamer, in his abode,
bragging on how good he is online

An ice cream vendor with his cart,
traversing from street to street

A young child, flying a kite,
living the days of his youth

A mother, five weeks pregnant,
chatting with friends at a coffee shop

A policeman, gun in hand,
pursuing a delinquent

A pedicab driver, laughing,
enjoying the sights with his companions

A bass player, writing
pondering for new material

A frustrated novelist,
frustrated at his own talent; desperate

A beggar, hungry and alone
relieved by the company of his brothers and sisters

 A father on his death bed,
speaking in whispers his love for his son

A wandering photographer,
takes shots of passing cars

A traffic enforcer,
taking a break at a bread shop

A war veteran,
scars on his cheek and arms

A widow grieving,
with the trees and the stones

A teacher, robust and meticulous,
staunch and strict

A wide collection
of personalities of different sorts
Living the urban life,
dreaming...

Still, they dream 

A poem I contrived during a hot summer afternoon, while listening to Archipelago's song May 1. This poem was inspired by that song.

The Pacific

The Pacific reminds me of tropical tranquility. I'm talking about sandy beaches, clear skies, palm trees and exotic flora, cool waves, scenic landscapes and islands  and of course, the ocean breeze teasing your skin as it passes by. This is the Pacific we know today. Tranquil, peaceful, absolutely beautiful. But it was far different from the Pacific the veterans of the US Marine Corps had experienced. From 1941-1945, to them, it was hell on earth. The sandy beaches were once littered with corpses of young marines, the islands were ablaze and littered with bomb craters, floating bodies and metallic parts from destroyed ships were scattered throughout its waters. Those are the appropriate words to describe the war-torn Pacific of the 40's. It's a good thing that HBO has presented WWII junkies, like me, with another groundbreaking miniseries that can certainly picture out the drama and trauma experienced by US Marines, as they battled their way through the beaches and jungles of the Pacific isles, served in key battles that defined the gruesome reality of the Pacific theater and endured the unendurable elements that no ordinary man could ever bear.

The Pacific premiered on HBO on Saturday, April 3, on 9:00 PM, and I was blown away by it's first two episodes, as if I was shot by a bazooka in point blank range. Produced by the same guys who brought Band of Brothers (Steven Spielberg and Tom Hanks), The Pacific chronicles the many ordeals faced by three US Marines who went on service in the Pacific Theater of World War II. From their perspectives, they pictured out the many challenges they and their fellow marines had experienced, as they fought an unfamiliar enemy in important battles, from Guadalcanal to Okinawa. Unlike Band of Brothers, where it sympathized the exploits of the 101st Airborne Division as they parachuted throughout Europe, The Pacific shows a detailed account on how the USMC fought their battles in East Asia. It's the marines I'm talking about, and most of the fighting is seen on beaches , so expect a lot of  amphibious landings and tropical action.

The Pacific is a well-crafted in-your-face war story about the emotional turmoil that had been haunting these marines as they wade through the turbulent jungles and harsh climate of the East. It's a remarkable take, as a matter of fact. WWII junkies like me shouldn't worry about the issue of WWII realism. Like it's predecessors, Band of Brothers and Saving Private Ryan, this new miniseries event is not short of realistic combat scenes and historical accuracy.

All in all, I'm deeply overwhelmed by the first two episodes I've seen. I'd like to share what I saw on the first two episodes, but it's better if others would watch it for themselves and sink their minds into the whole storyline,  rather than having an eccentric spoil the whole series. From start to finish, The Pacific can blow the minds of WWII aficionados with the real score of real-time war and the drama that besets it.

Daydreams

It is my usual tendency to daydream. Ever since kindergarten, I daydream about a lot of things. Once, I daydreamed being someone out of a fantasy novel, and it didn't turned out well when I became the laughing stock of the town. Daydreaming could help people, especially desperate artists like yours truly, to add color to the world they despise as being dull and lifeless. Wikipedia defines daydreaming as a "visionary fantasy experienced while awake, especially one of happy, pleasant thoughts, hopes and ambitions". To put it simply, it's like dreaming in a semi-aware state, where you bend reality in a way that could relate to you and your imaginary motives.

Well, as a self-styled eccentric, daydreaming is a tool. A tool to help me understand and look at the world in a different, if not, twisted perspective. It is my hobby. That thing I want to do once in a while to escape the harsh reality of this antagonistic world.

But some people call daydreaming a meaningless waste of time. A senseless pursuit for nonsense and the like. Something that could hinder human development, maybe? But why should they contradict such activity that had helped produce a wide array of geniuses, literary moguls and artistic demigods?

In actuality, many of the world's brightest minds who made an impact on humanity took their inspiration solely from reverie. Take Leonardo Da Vinci, for example.He was one of the forerunners of the Renaissance period. A true genius during his time. The way how his innovative mind ticked is reflected in his notebooks filled with sketches of the human anatomy and objects that were not even invented during his time. He owe it all to his craftiness, and of course, to the times he spent daydreaming.

Daydreaming could lead one to a vast treasure trove of ideas. Ideas that could develop the whole aspect of a person. Ideas that could influence someone to be excellent.

Like it or not, daydreaming is here to stay. And as long as a lot of people are indulging themselves in reverie, creativity will not cease in this unimaginative world.