Fields of Poetry

I don't know how to love him
What to do, how to move him
I've been changed. Yes, really changed
In these past few days when I've seen myself
I seem like someone else . . .

Monday, November 14, 2011

Stagnant Cognition

A humdrum existence have taken a grip of my lengthy neck, ready to slam my face into a cold bucket of rain water, draining the remaining bubble of air which symbolizes the hope I have stored in the alveoli, located at the very end of my lung. Left lung or right lung? It doesn't really matter the way it didn't matter if you're a right or left hand user.

After watching that RSAnimate - The Divided Brain, I am torn between the satisfaction that the right brain-left brain theory initiated by Roger W. Sperry in the 1970's is flawed; I am torn between that satisfaction and the loss of identity.

As a child I've been taught that my dependence on my left hand determines my future; that I am meant to become an artist since birth so I should give up Math and other Academic Studies! So I pursued an Artist's Career, majoring in Art and Design despite the nagging conscientious that the said theory is sketchy. It took 20 years to learn that it is indeed impervious to reason. According to Iaian McGilchrist, it's not true that one brain does reason while the other does emotion in fact, both brain are able to process reason and emotion on a par. Even if you remove one part of your brain you can still function albeit less productively.

Now I can more or less accept that I haven't succeeded as an artist. Perhaps I was misguided to believe that it's my destiny due to that popular theory that had stuck with us for a long time. Thank you science for clearing that up. I've completely lost my tracks. Now I gotta look up at the stars, get back on track; get that monotony's murderous hands off of me so I can breath in more hope and gather courage.

Still, I will not give up my artist's career or the probability that I will succeed in that field. Time is an enemy one needs to befriend.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Ginger Root To Cure White Spots on the Face

About a month ago I went to this Salon for a facial and they gave me all sorts of cream and soap which they claim to cure pigmentation on my skin. Initially the white spots I have were hardly visible. After about 2 weeks of religious application of the creams and use of their soap, the white pigmentation on my face worsen. They spread throughout my cheeks. I figured I've been tricked: They will expect me to return to their store for more treatments which will then keep me hooked on their products.

Now that would suck and my confidence will plummet.

So, to protect my vulnerable esteem, I decided to look for alternatives and that's when I stumbled upon a natural cure: Ginger Roots. According to sources online, 6 weeks of fresh ginger juice on the affected areas would help blend it with the natural color on the skin. Since ginger is a lot cheaper and easier to purchase, I decided to give nature's choice a chance.

Just a few minutes ago, I've applied the affected areas with ginger juice and let them dry. I will keep an update on this blog for any improvement or significant changes on the skin in the days to come.

How I Applied Ginger Juice 

1. Get a large ginger, wash it and cut in half.
2. The first half, grate the ginger to get the juice and place in a small bowl.
3. The second half cut in thin slices.
4. Apply the juice on affected areas and allow to dry.
5. Lie down and place slices of ginger on the affected areas for 20 minutes.

I'm going to do this 2~3 times a day. 
*2 times during the week
*3 times during the weekend or on Sundays, depending on whether I stay at home all day or not. 

Thursday, August 4, 2011

Veggie Tale

Tomatoes said she'd been wanting to upgrade Peanut's cell. For several months now, she has been nagging Cucumbers to buy a Black Berry. Cucumber, having bought a Black Berry, will then pass his old cell onto Peanut which, according to Tomatoes, has a lot of cool accessories and other widgets.

Tomatoes accused Peanut of apathy towards her efforts to have her cell upgraded when Peanut said, "I don't want Cucumber's cell." She expected Peanut to be grateful of her efforts and embrace with enthusiasm what has been given to her.

Peanut's rejection made Tomatoes really sad because for the longest time, she pitied Peanuts for possessing an old cheap cell of 1 year.

Peanut, on the other hand was upset because Tomatoes never asked her for her own opinions which are:

1. Cucumber's cell is plain ugly.
2. Peanut doesn't care much for games or other widgets in a cell.
3. Peanut likes her current cell and she doesn't want to part with it.

Tomatoes just wants to be like her veggie friends and their spouses who has a pairing Black Berry. She wanted to copy them and be like them in the same way but she couldn't get Cucumbers to buy a new Black Berry unless she has a valid reason. Her reason was that Peanut has been using a cheap old cell.  It never crossed Tomatoes' mind that it makes no difference if Cucumbers gives Peanut his old cell because it's older than hers.

It puzzled Peanut so much, she couldn't sleep.

Why does Tomatoes have to pretend that she's pushing Cucumber to buy a Black Berry for my sake?

Peanut wondered.

Why does she need to hide her monomania behind good intentions?

If she really pitied me, then why didn't she just buy me a new cell instead of passing on an old, ugly one that I never wanted?

She grabs her pillow and grips on it, hard.

I want to grab a tomato and throw it at a wall.

The end.

Sunday, July 31, 2011

Waking Up

Waking Up

Waking up to see you near,
sleeping quietly,
peeves me dear and when you stir
I’d freeze, stay still and be;
breathing in the morning cheer
that early sun rise bring.
Then giggling with a knowing grin
that you will smile for me.

Curtains dance with singing wind
that passes through our window;
single birds glance by our bed
room, curious as the widows
next door . . .

Waking up to see you near,
sleeping quietly,
tickles me that when you stir
I’d hug you, silently.
Caressing you with all my heart
each morning that I rise,
I’d whisper words of hope and love
to keep you by my side.

Bells and cymbals all around
would ring into the sky,
petals flutter in the spring air -
white doves takes a lover’s dive
outdoor . . .

Waking up to see you here,
sleeping quietly,
please me dear that when you stir
I’d kiss you slow and sweet.

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

To Urban Blight

In my mind and heart
wings of gold take flight
and from outstretched hands
there stream beams of light . . .

From the sky I dive
without a doubt to urban blight;
ever knowing that you'll come 

All day 
in the sun I laze
visions glide like dials in the sky
Little drops
between my eyelashes sparkle
like flakes of pure white snow. 

And empyrean dusts they make
shapes of horses and of him
whom I've yearned and longed
for many years . . . 

And the stars they twinkle so
and the moons they circle more
while the comets zoom and speed
and in frenzy meteors freeze

In my mind and heart
voices whisper raptures, too
from my lips they part
the words "I love you . . . "

From the sky I dive
without a doubt to urban blight;
ever knowing that you'll come 

Friday, June 24, 2011

The Name of My Angel

I have wanted to draw him for a long time. I finally did it!

My angel guards me day and night
he glows with white and shim'ring light
his long and flowing beard they spread 
down to his knees;   
Or were they indeed his knees . . . ?
My angel soothes me when I'm tense
he builds a shield for my defense
against deleterious clout and verve;
My angel he can calm my nerves.

My angel, he be old and wise
with smoke that trails from his ancient pipe.
I love him for his good advice,
his guidance and his artifice.

I wish I knew, I wish he'd tell
the name he bore with him as well
that I may call him as a friend
from now till Death shall meet my end.


Meet My Mother

My new found advocacy is my e-boyfriend with whom I met on According to him, we've had a few exchanges of words before, though I can hardly remember those times. I never thought that I'd end up falling in love with him, but I did and it was largely due to his courage and determination to take it further. We claimed each other on April 16 of 2011.

A week after we've conversed on Skype, my mother began to suspect my every move and so it was necessary for me to feed her curiosity for my own protection. Had I kept silent, it would have driven her mad so I confessed that I have been communicating with a man online and that I am beginning to fall for him. I sent my mom, my dad and my sister an email introducing him to the family. Still my mom was not convinced and insisted that he come to the Philippines in December to meet with us in person. No sooner than three weeks after, my e-boyfriend booked a flight to the Philippines in December and even then my mom was equivocal.

My mother's scrupulous behavior perturb my diplomacy and so I suggested that she meet him during her trip to France in June. She rebuked me and I was forced to lie to my e-boyfriend saying that my mother decided not to meet. But, 2 days later, during her stay in France,  my mother expressed a change of mind through her blackberry. She said that her friends invited her to go to Belgium and shop there since all shops are closed on Sunday in Paris. It was a twist of fate and since then I am convinced that my e-boyfriend is meant for me.

So my mother met my e-boyfriend in Brussels, Belgium last Sunday, June 19, 2011. For a whole day, my e-boyfriend rode the Hop-On-Hop-Off Bus with my mother and her friends. The last hour, he spent talking to my mother about me. It was a good day and I congratulated and thank my boyfriend for doing me this favor. It was a big leap for us and a good one.

There are more challenges to face and I sure hope we tackle them in no time at all.

Love may cease, if so let it cease
but let Loyalty take a strong hold.

 I love my e-boyfriend enough to call him my boyfriend without the e- .

My E-Boyfriend

Living in the country-side as a member of an acclaimed Golf Club where social classes determine your value as an individual; living under strict surveillance even online triples the effort of finding a significant other. Some may say that chances of meeting with a rich man at a Golf Course are higher than any other place that can only guarantee false hopes. I disagree. In fact, you can meet with a great partner online provided that you are given the freedom to express yourself instead of constantly appointing someone to monitor your activities and limiting your rights to have fun at all.(1) And so, yes, I made a break through! I found my guy online despite my parents' initial response and I am thankful that he has met with my mother in his own country (Belgium), which is by the way, a twist of fate. Thanks to that "Meet My Mother" arrangement it looks like we are given the permission to continue our long-distance-relationship or e-relationship.

So far, so good.
That is until yesterday . . .

I really didn't think of it as much of a deal, but my e-bf was persistent and insisted that I punish him for "wiping the smile off your face". So I punished him. I demanded that he cease all form of communication with me for 2~3 days and so far he has been obedient, but something tells me he's trying other ways to communicate with me.

I know and I am pretty sure that he's asking for his friend's support because one of them, who hardly ever talks to me, suddenly commented on my deviant profile (and yes I am on, but hush!)!! He used the MURO application'(2) and drew a geeky heart emote '<3', which my bf, for sure, passed it through his friend and unto me. So it's a bit of an indirect communication. It's so sweet. Damn. But, a punishment is a punishment! There's one more day to go.

My e-bf also tried to communicate with me by indirectly responding to my video post on facebook! I do miss him and it hurts just as much that I don't get to talk to him so, I listened to a lot of love songs online trying to comfort myself. The one song I posted this morning was "My Boy Lollipop" by Amy WineHouse's God-Daughter, Dionne Bromfield.

In this song, there's a part of the lyrics that goes "You set my world on fire." My e-bf responded to this line on facebook 2 hours later with the song, "I Don't Want to Set the World on Fire" by The Ink Spots. My heart melted as I drank San Miguel Beer while listening to it:

Still. He asked for a punishment and I intend on pushing it through. I didn't comment on his post. I remained silent. I do love him, I'd have commented if it had been any other day because it's just damn too sweet that he's trying to communicate with me in this way. It's really sweet. I hope tomorrow ends quickly so we can talk again.

My e-boyfriend was being silly, jealous and needy yesterday morning during our Skype Video Session. And yet, when I gave him the attention he craved, he was allowing himself to get distracted to other things, in this case, other windows on his computer. It made me sad. I wasn't angry, I wasn't mad, but it scared him. He begged me to scold him, get angry, or react in other ways instead of looking sad but I didn't want to. I just didn't see any point in it. I mean, it was obvious he knew why I was sad there's no reason for me to scold him or get mad.

He begged me to punish him. He begged so hard it irritated me so, I did what he asked. This "No Communication" type of punishment is just as bad for me. I can't sleep, I can't concentrate, and I can hardly do things with effervescence. My dad and my sister can vouch for that. They don't know the cause, but they can see that I am unreasonably petulant and it's starting to worry them. Still I try to keep it down. Just one more day. Just one more day . . .

I don't want to set the world on fire.
I just want to start a flame in your heart.

I should thank my e-boyfriend for the song later . . .

(1)My mother monitors my activities for some reason. She is obsessed with me, I swear to God it's ridiculous. It's as if she can't rest if she doesn't know what goes on in my life. 
(2)Muro application is an apps on deviantart on which you can draw and send to whomever you wish to send it to on the same site. It's really fun and a great way to play with friends.

Monday, April 25, 2011

Mission for Men

Recently I have introduced a potential admirer to my parents and ever since, my loving progenitors have admonished against the blarney he's likely to exploit. Given the social status and elitist background, I am vulnerable to ambitious men who may take advantage of my fortitude and hence the family assets that I am supposedly meant to inherit in the future. 

One of my father's warning echoed in my head so much that I actually found it lateral to a 2010 remake of the movie Arthur, starring Russell Brand. The warning was this:

"It is easier for a woman to adapt to wealth than it is for a man."

I suppose it would be easier for a woman largely due to societal expectation that the man should provide and for the woman to procreate. In the movie, despite his inadequacy, Russell still manages to save Greta Gerwig's dream of becoming a writer for children. Should the situation change and it's Greta saving Russell from poverty, it is quite unappealing and mediocre of the man to be depending on the woman.

Still! Haven't there been several tales of peasant boys becoming kings? Look at King David. Wasn't he a mere shepherd boy with a slingshot? 

With all due respect, I wish to keep the relationship going with the hope that this potential admirer will become my own King David. I pray earnestly that my wish will be granted of me. Should God bless the boy, two years my junior, I will forever serve in goodness and just leadership. 

I will do God honor in exchange for this boy. 

Sunday, April 17, 2011

On Optimism II

Optimism is a practice of tolerance and silent obedience. Optimism is a practice of discipline and perception. A lot of misconception about optimism leads people to view the practice, erratically, distorting the essence of the word. In my observation, the misconception is largely due to a foible that which flaccid and flimsy individuals wish to eradicate in the guise of rationalization. 

I say that optimism is a practice of tolerance for the reason that it does not judge or dismiss a person's character or behavior. While allowing a destructive mannerism to continue, the practice encourages the person to pursue his/her personal interest with acute prognosis. It brings to mind a lot of the discipline of martial arts which involves blindfolding: the trainees learn to defend and attack their opponents, implementing an amelioration of prodigious sagacity.

With brilliant percipience acquired through tolerance, optimism capacitates silent obedience. This is not to say that the person blindly follows whatever courses he/she is lead into; rather, obedience in the sense that a timely assessment is accrued. Going back to the analogy of trainees in martial arts, the trainees gauge their opponent's activities: what upsets them, their weaknesses and strength. In calculating their opponent, they can predict which form of attacks or defenses can protect them from a major damage. They obey their opponent's advances and respond accordingly.

The habit of tolerance and silent obedience depends on a set of discipline: less talk, cautious advance and more thinking. Thinking requires perception; a basic understanding of psychology or behavioral pattern: Why, How, When, and Where? 

  • Why is my opponent attacking?
  • How is my opponent attacking?
  • When is my opponent attacking?
  • Where is my opponent going to attack?
Just asking themselves those questions during a confrontation can prevent trainees from dissipating, consistently focused on their personal goals and worldly missions. 

Unfortunately, humans have that nasty habit of nitpicking, looking for a viable scapegoat to justify their ugly responses to one another. Most writers, having understood the human tendency to blame, would advocate that behavior by writing books on Optimism. Books and articles with titles such as Energy Vampires, How to Deal with Negative People, Being Positive etc., flood the internet and the literal world which only lubricates the underlying cultivation of Optimism.

Is it your fault that you're treated like a venting machine? a punching bag? an animal?

“No! It’s NOT YOUr fault! IT’S THE(M)IR FAULT and this is how you handle them.”

The message above is the primary axiom that attract perverse thinking or victim mentality, if you will. Ask yourself when you read these books and articles. Are you really a victim or are you chicken?

Friday, March 18, 2011


My dad really loves to eat. He eats more than he's required to eat despite my mom's, my sister's and my own constant reminder for him to control his daily consumption. Sometimes he would search for morsels for the sake of masticating; stop by an unfamiliar restaurant to try their menu; challenge himself with a new taste at home, etc. There's really nothing with that, in fact it's because of his love for food that I learned to appreciate different dishes from various cultures and social class.

All four of us were invited to this exclusive restaurant by my parent's wealthy acquaintance. My sister was so delighted that she begged to bring her best friend with us. Her name is Irene. Irene is of a Singaporean background: tall and lanky Chino-Vietnamese with an accent that frustrates my ears. You would think that I'd have gotten used to her voice since she has been my sister's best friend from kindergarten, but no. Each word she utter commands thrice the effort for my brain to process and the dumbstruck expression I reflect becomes an objective ground for belligerence. No. When Irene is present, I zip my lips. 

The restaurant was underground an old and run-down building located at the city port, just above the docks now empty and dark. It was a cold winter night with stealthy sea breeze that sends chilling breathes down your spine. 

Stupid perverted wind! I muttered as we descended down a dark and narrow stairway lit by dim lights. I'm wearing a damn turtle neck. Get the idea!!! I clenched my teeth. 

I tried to block out the fear lurking at the back of my head as I watched the shadows dance on the walls of the long corridor that led to the restaurant. The extreme visuals fabricated by my imaginations can be horridly graphic that there had been times when I almost lost my senses. The wind moaned louder underground and the chills stung my exposed cheeks. 

You are warm and protected in a cocoon of white light! I inhaled and exhaled trying to warm my cold body, my arms crossed and my gloved hands gripping tightly onto them. Two grim men in black suits guarded the entrance. My dad gave one of them a red envelop sealed with a maroon wax. 

They let us in.

Inside the restaurant was like the interior of a Chinese palace only, it was packed with customers in beautiful Western attire. I could barely remember the details so spare me this description. Let's skip right down to the dishes.

The soup of the evening was the first and last I ever spooned from that exclusive restaurant. It was a large bulge of grind meat right smack in a center of a large bowl decorated with carrots, cabbage, pepper, and onion. The meat was attached to a large fat at the bottom and since I hate fat, I tried to flip the meat around to remove it. At that moment Irene warned, "Don't flip it!"

"Why not?"
"The other side of this meat will not look appetizing to you and you won't want to eat it, ever. Just eat that side and leave the fat at the bottom." She suggested. 

My dad, mom and sister kept eating. I tried to follow Irene's advice and ate what looked like white balls of meat but the taste and texture was so peculiar and her words so mysterious that curiosity got the better of me and I flipped the meat to see the fat end of it.

I was horrified to see eye sockets, a cartilage where a nose must have been; lips, cheeks and a chin. The fat end of the meat was a face. The large mass of red meat was a brain. When I thought of the white balls of meat that I ate earlier as pair of eyes, I grew nauseated and ran away from the table, past other customers and out the restaurant. 

My hands pressing against the dim walls of the hallway I gagged and repelled the ingested meat, forcing them to the floor like a sludge of mud down a violent waterfall. My dad came outside to ask me if I was alright before expressing his embarrassment concerning my behavior. He repeatedly scolded me after mom joined us, who equally expressed her disappointment as I tried to clean my stomach of the human essence. I couldn't believe my ears. What am I hearing? I looked up and glared at my dad. Then I realized that everything around me including his face were too dark to be real. I was dreaming. 

Wake up! Wake up! This is horrible! WAKE UP! I screamed. I did wake up, but having realized it was  all a dream I went back to sleep. This time it was completely dark and peaceful.

Now that I've thought about it, it really didn't make sense that the brain is attached to the face. Where are the bones? I don't have a clue. All I knew then was that I was eating a human head or parts of it. That was enough detail for me. I hope this dream doesn't mean anything. It was just too graphic.

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Neptune in the Orient

This is a poem I wrote inspired by the Tsunami and Earthquake in Japan. Let us pray for Japan!
Neptune in the Orient
To the shores of the land
where the red sun rise
Oh the god of the sea did ride
the god of the sea did ride
With his hand he disband
and the tremors it blighted
the lives of the squinted eyed
the lives of the squinted eyed
And with his trident he formed
the white sea horses
charging forth in massive foams
and black they turned
as they dragged with force
the cities that they crushed and piled.
the cities that they crushed and piled.
On the shores of the land
where the red sun rise
blue flowers now amplify
blue flowers now amplify
And the people they bow to the
silent roses
Singing an ancient rhyme
Singing an ancient rhyme.

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Dog protects fellow canine until rescue arrived.

A disoriented dog in Arahama, Japan loyally stood by his friend amidst the destruction left by the earthquake and tsunami. This footage pricked my heart and I cried at the bravery of the Spaniel. If you look closely, the Spaniel (the white and brown spotted dog) was desperately seeking the attention of the male reporter to help his friend lying injured behind a metal barrel. Unfortunately, the reporter lack physical communication with the dog and thought he should stay away.

I was deeply touched as I watched the brown dog try to tell his friend to lay low by placing a paw on her face because it is seriously wounded. Not to worry folks, it was all thanks to this footage that these admirable dogs were taken shelter and the white one is currently treated at a clinic.

This captivating footage of our four-legged friend is a great portrayal of sincerity. Let us all be reminded that even animals, especially domesticated ones suffer from the same catastrophe that people endure. They also seek help. I pray that more animals such as these two will be found and saved. I pray, too that the domestic animals will find their owners soon.

Here is an English translation of the voiceover exchange between the two reporters in the clip (translation courtesy of Toshiyuki Kitamura):
We are in Arahama area. Looks like there is a dog. There is a dog. He looks tired and dirty. He must have been caught in the tsunami. He looks very dirty.
He has a collar. He must be someone's pet. He has a silver collar. He is shaking. He seems very afraid.
Oh, there is another dog. I wonder if he is dead.
Right there. There is another dog right next to the one sitting down. He is not moving. I wonder. I wonder if he is alright.
The dog is protecting him.
Yes. He is protecting the dog. That is why he did not want us to approach them. He was trying to keep us at bay.
I can't watch this. This is a very difficult to watch.
Oh. Look. He is moving. He is alive. I am so happy to see that he is alive.
Yes! Yes! He is alive.
He looks to be weakened. We need for them to be rescued soon. We really want them rescued soon.
Oh good. He's getting up.
It is amazing how they survived the tremendous earthquake and tsunami. It's just amazing that they survived through this all.

Friday, March 11, 2011

Salty Kiss

Before I indulge myself with the distribution of a dream that most people would render odd and meaningless, I would like to share a few moment of prayers for the people of Japan. Yesterday afternoon the country suffered from an 8.9 magnitude of earthquake, triggering a sudden wall of Tsunami that rose up as high as 10~20 ft above sea level. It is estimated that 8,000 people are missing and the death toll of 4500, rising.

Let us bow our heads in silent prayers for the people of Japan.
Let us pray that the identities of the victims of the Tsunami in Sendai are found.
Let us pray for the survivors of the disasters that followed
Let us pray for a smooth recovery for the nation.
Lord, we are grateful that our family, relatives and friends in the affected country are safe. May you comfort them for they have developed a great fear for nature's sudden and creeping activities. May you keep our loved ones safe for always, amen.

And now for the dream. It's quite short, really.

I was in a living room with four guys watching television. I was really close to one of them, sitting by the sofa. I got sleepy so I decided to hug him and fell asleep. Then in my sleep, I felt him move around, wrapping his arms around me and kissed me. His tongue entered my mouth and because I was tired, I did not resist. Then I tasted something like chips and it was really salty. I grimaced and moaned. I mumbled, "It's salty. Stop that."

And so he stopped kissing me. He still hugged me, though and I fell in a deeper sleep. Next thing I know, I was still in bed at 10 am this morning. I wonder what the dream meant, though . . .

Strange . . .

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Different Skin Color, Same Race

A white, healthy baby was reported to have been born to a black Nigerian couple in London last year. With DNA samplings, Nmachi (as she was named) was proved to be the daughter of the couple, Ben and Angelica Ihegboro and the possibility of albinism had been ruled out. Thank goodness for that!

Doctors were baffled by the given fact that neither of the parents have had any white relatives in their family roots, suggesting that the baby may have a unique genetic mutation.

With this story in mind, let me introduce you to the dry hills of Central Asia where a beautiful mummy with strikingly Caucasian features, a.k.a."The Loulan Beauty" was unearthed. This hilly terrain is called the Xinjiang Province, inhabited by various race of people who traded, cross-bred and lived together way before the Chinese claimed it as part of their land.

We know that Xinjiang was an unmarked land because 4000 or more years back, the first peoples to inhabit those hills were these Nomadic Aryans. And guess what? That "Loulan Beauty"is one of them. More shocking thing is, these white Caucasians thousands of years ago were not alone. They were with what the Chinese called the Wusun people.

An ancient Chinese Book of Divination described the Wusuns as "dark, ugly people with deep eye sockets," which is a stunning characterization of African peoples. Not that they are all ugly, but that's what the book said.

According to a famous Chinese author and linguist of the Tang Dynasty, these black people belong to the same race as the green eyed and red haired barbarians. This bit of information comes from a 7th century text!

And now back to modern times, you got a black couple with a white kid! Not just one, but there were at least 3 or more reports of white kids born to black couples.

I think it is safe to say that I agree with the 7th Century Chinese linguist. Black and White people are of the same race. Nmachi does not have a genetic mutation. Period.

Sunday, March 6, 2011


The lines on the surface marks the growth of my soul upon which I would often bury my shame. The  darkness that envelops beckons the eager tears to flow, only they are held back by the stubborn lids that shuts out the world.

I part the shield from my face reluctant to open those that witnesses while the vehement appendages they oblige, coaxing my timid self to let loose. They comfort me and yet I continue to slight them afraid of what I already knew.

I have no right to contravene the life that is slowly fading away from me. It is but my own doing.

These pair of hands, my palms should not absorb the salt of frustration.

Sunday, February 27, 2011

I'll Find My Love

Some where beyond my window
I know that I can have my chance
Of meeting with the Dream

Some day when I've stepped off
the curve, and waved my life on balance
Leaving on a whim

Oh, courage guide me within
Oh, lord

I know that I'll find my love.

Friday, February 11, 2011

How are Rapunzel's Tears Magical?

Fairy tales are magical and uplifting, warming the hearts of every child who has yet to deduce the world in which they were born. I love fairy tales and I believe they aid parents in raising their children to become prudent individuals because each and every one of them teach essential moral values. While some fairy tales such as Snow White and Jack and the Beanstalk are consistent, others can be fluky and arbitrary, which could meander from the main point of the story.

One such fairy tale is Rapunzel.

For many years I've wondered why the wife would allow her husband to commit a crime, stealing from a witch. I've wondered why they could not keep a promise of giving the witch their daughter because they did after all steal from her garden. I was disgusted by Rapunzel's biological parents and found the witch to be the most reasonable and pragmatic character despite her role as the antagonist. As the adopted parent, she did take great length to care for and protect Rapunzel, treating her like a real princess when she's really the daughter of a poor candle stick maker.

Maybe the main theme of the story is responsibility. The biological parents are shown as irresponsible couples who participate in criminal acts and so were punished by having their only child taken away from them. The witch is shown as a responsible figure who cares for and cherishes her child's innocence and understands when she should let her go.

The story reinforces this theme of responsibility towards the end where the prince's blindness is cured by Rapunzel's tears. The restoration of his eye sight is symbolic of the Prince's realization that he has to be responsible for making Rapunzel pregnant! That he has accepted that he is now a father and will cherish Rapunzel forever more.

What I didn't like about the original is that Rapunzel's character never really develops. She's as boring as the tower in which she lives in. Moreover it didn't make sense to me that Rapunzel suddenly had magical tears and that got in the way of me trying to decipher the message that the story is trying to convey. Then along came Disney and simplified the whole story with their recent featured animation, Tangled.

I really enjoyed watching Tangled and I believe that Disney did a great job of simplifying Rapunzel by structuring the story for the characters to make decisions. I suppose this is what make Tangled so different from the original tale of Rapunzel: It's character-driven.


Before I resume, let me inform you that in Tangled, the role of the characters are switched around:
  • Instead of the father acting as the thief, it's the Prince. In the Disney version, he is a notorious thief called Flynn Rider whose dream is to be wealthy beyond his wildest imagination. 
  • Instead of dealing with immoral couple who steals her cabbage/radishes or whatever the version says it is, the witch is selfishly keeping a magical flower for herself. A flower that grew from the tears of the sun (or from a drop of pure sunlight).
  • Instead of the parents being a poor couple who makes a living off of making candles, they are the beloved King and Queen of a beautiful nation full of kind and friendly people. 

In the beginning, a wanted thief called Flynn Rider (voiced by Zachary Levi) narrates, introducing us to the vain and selfish witch, Mother Gothel (voiced by Donna Murphy).  She hoards this magical flower that restores her youth every time she sings a special song to it. 

At that time, he narrates, a beloved Queen is sick with child and needs that flower to restore her back to health otherwise, she and the child could die. The people searches far and wide but because Mother Gothel is hiding the flower, they struggle to find it until she herself knocks  off the cover that hides it from view and is found by the soldiers.

The Queen drinks the soup made of the flower and is restored back to health. Little does she know that the powers of the flower is fused into the baby in her stomach. Rapunzel is born and the people rejoices and so do Mother Gothel! Mother Gothel steals into the castle and tries to take strands of Rapunzel's hair as it has obtained the powers of the flower. She discovers that they wither when they are cut off and so decides to abduct the baby instead. And that is how Rapunzel ends up locked in a high tower: for Mother Gothel to keep her youth and beauty all to herself.

Giving Rapunzel (voiced by Mandy Moore) a special ability allows for the heroine to develop her character. I liked that she has this anxiety concerning her hair; that she is torn by guilt due to disobedience and her growing affection towards Flynn. It made a lot of sense that her love for Flynn is not just sexual curiosity as the original story seems to imply.

Also, it becomes satisfactory to watch her save Flynn Rider's life with her tears in the end. With her hair cut off from the tip, as a stem is cut off from the stigma, her tears are the last thing that resonates with the sun. Rapunzel, being innocent and pure resonates with the purity of the sun's tears (or drop of sunlight) and thus contains the power to heal. We as the audience, end up whispering "Ahh . . . yeah. I totally saw that coming!"

Although the theme in the story of Rapunzel changed in Tangled (it's maturity instead of responsibility) , the plot makes a lot more sense than the original and there is only one character who is clearly an antagonist-- Mother Gothel. In the original story, it's a lot more complicated and it's hard to decide who is really bad: the biological parents or the witch? And you even wonder if the Prince has what it takes to be a father, what more as a King?

Flynn Rider, despite his reputation as a thief we learn towards the climax that he has the potential to become a good King if not a great one.

All in all, I do love the tale of Rapunzel be it the original version or the Disney's. I just happen to find Tangled a lot more contrive and delightful because they answered the very question that I've been asking for the longest time: How are Rapunzel's tears magical?

"I see the light"

Monday, January 24, 2011


Hi! I am open for paid commissions! Please make a payment before commissions via paypal. I am very flexible with the style; from anime to western comics to realism so if you can clearly instruct your request in your mail, there should be no problem.

To see what kind of work I do, please send an email addressed to:

Type, 'Commission: Sample Work' as your subject title and state the style preferred. I will send you my portfolio in zip format. If you like the samples, you can go ahead and send me another email detailing your commission.  

Once you've sent me your request, I will do a rough sketch and once you've approved, you must proceed with the payment. After the payment, I will complete your request.

Take a gander at the Menu below and you do the computation:

Digitized Format
Paper size: 8 x 11.5 
300 dpi
CMYK Mode (for printing)

For the Sketch Art, NO preliminary sketches are given
Sketch Art

  • Character Only: 5 $ 60 ₱
  • Character with simple background: 10$ 120₱

Line Art

  • Character Only: 10 $ 120 ₱
  • Character with simple background: 20$ 140₱

Colored Art

  • 1 Character with background 30 $ 360₱

Additional Information

  • 10 $ for Character Busts/ Heads Only (full color) 
  • 10 $ for every additional characters 
  • Give me a week to work on your commission after the transaction

Paper size larger than 8 x 11.5 will automatically be worth 50$ (600₱). 

Looking forward to working with you!

Saturday, January 22, 2011

Mind Control

For the past several months I've been searching online for a way to control my mind. Receptive to every form of negative radiation be it in words, chemical messages, body language, frequencies or aura I am easily affected and the disturbance disrupts daily productivity.

Strangely enough I never knew I've had this problem during college or way before that. It was only after college that I realized my own weakness: I don't know how to block my mind from the emf that the world emits, daily. Due to the depression and angst that swelled within my mind I'd often find myself tempted by the idea of suicide, which is direly mortifying.

I've found a couple of self-help guides that are quite interesting, but I really wish I could control my mind without relying on some object!

Having learned that crystals could protect you from negative energies on the outside world or energies coming from mechanical devices such as a cellphone, television, radio, computers and cars, I took a small bust of a horse which I believed to be made of pure crystal and placed it in my pocket for a whole day. I was so convinced that it worked that I even placed it under my pillow, hoping to sleep deep without developing horrible visions (I get nightmares a lot more often than ordinary people ).

The following morning, which is this morning, I told my mother about it and the shock I got was disappointing. The bust of the horse that I mistook for crystal is actually made of lead crystal!

"It's all in your mind!" my mother laughed. I smirked.
"Not really," I tried to shake off that bitterness clambering from my chest, "I did drink two glasses of white wine so it's all good!" I shrugged.

And, yeah. It is true! I did drink two glasses of white wine before going to bed. I was sort of doubting the powers of the crystal so I set up a plan B. If plan A is proven false, then plan B must have worked. That's how I roll.

So wine and other alcohol helps you to sleep deep. Is there a better alternative? And what about during the day? I really wish I knew a monk who could help me to meditate.

Thursday, January 20, 2011

Axis Powers Hetalia: Filipino Boy

Hetalia: Filipino Boy by ~rhythmicStars on deviantART

Do you know Hetalia? It's an anime about the Axis Powers: United States, Japan, China, Germany, UK, France and Italy. 

They haven't shown the Philippines so I decided to make one up. I think it's funny!

Sunday, January 16, 2011

I know I'll find my place . . .

Date: January 17, 2011
Time: 12:46 am
Location: Sister's Room

Ah, internet! It took me quite some time to realize that it being a public space, people can easily take advantage of personal information against your best interest. I used to just post whatever comes to mind since, hey! Who's gonna read it? Surprisingly, there are lot more people out there who wants to connect with people to spice up their lives.

There's nothing wrong with exposing yourself to people, really. The only problem is understanding their nature and being able to deal with it. Because you see, words, when used properly, can unite people. When used properly, words can also cause a dissenting opinion.  There's no way out of it. No matter how sincere you are, no matter how innocent you are there are cynics who would condemn you for even uttering a word.

I wrote this entry to say that I will refrain from writing my journals from here on, but I don't want to be a 13 year old drama queen. So, instead I leave you with this poem:


Jejuné, jejuné, hear the seagulls cry
Come to me, come to me
sing my lullaby

In the morning sun rise
seeped with pleasant rays
earthly fragrance tang nice
bless the coming days

In the noon the calmly
clicks on supple tools
brings a supper, fancy
cheese and wine and fruits

Jejuné, jejuné, hear the seagulls cry
Come to me, come to me
sing my lullaby

When the stars are shining;
moon and sky's gone dark
please don't try to find me
I will rest my heart.

I will rest my soul
Weary eyes to close

wait a year of slumber
in the raging sea
we will be together
once I've come to be

Jejuné, jejuné, hear the seagulls cry
Come to me, come to me
sing my lullaby . . .

Pmel/Phamiel ©

Saturday, January 15, 2011

Sleepless Nights

Medical Beat

The night I ditched the sleeping pills          
and stalked the flickering green corridor 
I felt the air blow a curdling chill     
and there it appeared as a condor.
Perched amply on a wing chair    
its chin resting upon its clavicle         
with a physiognomy bane and bare           
I pondered at the beastly barnacle:            
A carnivorous kite of sheer madness      
with hunger no man has yet discerned -- 
with blood it rivets neurosis,                     
holding captive the eidolons.       

And so to it made I a simple oath
That I shall come to it before I go.

Revised Version 2011©

Thursday, January 6, 2011