<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3223737905436015741</id><updated>2011-09-06T21:06:25.986+08:00</updated><category term='Fuckers.'/><title type='text'>Oniichan's Thoughts</title><subtitle type='html'>Welcome to the jungle.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Kishuku Sou</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09918586315656832863</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>24</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3223737905436015741.post-7260922108857849089</id><published>2011-05-11T16:58:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2011-05-11T17:09:11.418+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fuckers.'/><title type='text'>Trust Issues</title><content type='html'>Its been a while since the last time I posted something on this blog site. I've been very busy this past years and the recent turn of events inspired me to post something.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ok, I'm going to ask a simple question about Trust.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If your closest friends betrayed you, as in BETRAYED you, will you forgive them? Moreover trust them again?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'll give you a situation, you have girlfriend and currently you're having an issue because someone has been texting her ~ courting her. One day you had a talk and you believed that everything is clear. When you left, the guy texted her if they can meet. She agreed wondering if the guy was real, she even asked her "friends" (your friend as well) if she should meet her on a date.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In short, your girlfriend went out on a date while you were surfing the net doing your thesis. The greatest sucker was your supposed "friends" were with her ~ going nuts and kilig when the guy gave your girlfriend a flower and treated them at semi-high end restaurant. Another sucker is that they declared to the world that they "like" the guys. FUCKERS. They even did a private chat on Facebook regarding the guy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ok, if you're the boyfriend, what will you do?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In my own opinion, the friends DONT RESPECT the girl's boyfriend. I mean, if they were really friends, somehow they corrected the girl's impulsive decision (maturity issues comes in.) You see, if you're a real friend you're supposed to offer CORRECTION and do not TOLERATE any wrong decisions or actions. Respect is different from BEING AFRAID TO BE CAUGHT UP IN A FIREFIGHT OR ISSUE because the end result will always be the same. You'll get blamed because you didn't do what you're expected to do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And please, avoid imbecile posts in Facebook. Its a no brainer when you know you're friends with the boyfriend you cheered for the other guy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;MOTHERFUCKER&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3223737905436015741-7260922108857849089?l=kishukusou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/feeds/7260922108857849089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3223737905436015741&amp;postID=7260922108857849089' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/7260922108857849089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/7260922108857849089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/2011/05/trust-issues.html' title='Trust Issues'/><author><name>Kishuku Sou</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09918586315656832863</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3223737905436015741.post-8539743400739761156</id><published>2008-11-18T13:24:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T13:30:53.303+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Rizal fanboys and girls promotes gaylinggo?</title><content type='html'>Sir Francis said, way back in the times of the Katipunan; Rizal's name was a taboo. Nobody was allowed to say his name or to talk about him or his kin... and the people in his time adored and loved him so much. Even in the strict prohibition, they found a way to mention him without being put to jail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that explains why we use the word "chorva" until now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3223737905436015741-8539743400739761156?l=kishukusou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/feeds/8539743400739761156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3223737905436015741&amp;postID=8539743400739761156' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/8539743400739761156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/8539743400739761156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/2008/11/rizal-fanboys-and-girls-promotes.html' title='Rizal fanboys and girls promotes gaylinggo?'/><author><name>Kishuku Sou</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09918586315656832863</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3223737905436015741.post-3831947244096426782</id><published>2008-09-04T16:41:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-09-04T17:38:23.565+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sawa nang maging Pinoy...</title><content type='html'>Yeah, I know that I might end up with public beating but you know... Mr. Bob Ong is right about us Pilipino. I don't know how to start this and I don't know if anyone would waste time reading my rants about how .... we Pilipinos are. Yes. me too. Damay damay na nga siguro kasi pati ako nasama. I don't know much about the world and I know that my experience and my knowledge is very limited. I'm still young and still developing to become a better person someday so just let me do this just for once. Minsan lang naman ako mamintas. Hindi ba?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes. Medyo sawa na akong maging pinoy. Other than crab mentality (na ngayon ay may naiinggit sa akin kaya &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;tinitira ako patalikod&lt;/span&gt;--&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;bata&lt;/span&gt; lang kasi kaya hindi ko patulan. Hello K.A.M. 2nd Year English.) pagkareklamador na walang alam (gano'n ba ako?), irrational thinking, fondness of defense mechanism  (psychologically speaking) and super katigasan ng ulo that always lead to something terrible or most of the time insane situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there. What's wrong with us? About the Crab Mentality, sakit na raw natin 'yan? Tama ba 'yon? If we see someone in progress, hinahatak natin pababa. Behaviorally, mga pinoy daw loves equality. We love it so much na ayaw na nating may nakikitang nakaka-angat. Gusto natin pantay-pantay and by that Pilipinos mean that literally. So what happens. Until today, wala pa ring progress. Pag may nakaka-angat, gusto natin gano'n din tayo. E since not everyone is not so lucky or not that hardworking to gain something, hindi lahat nakaka-angat. Kaya 'yong mga walang magawa kungdi panuorin ang pag-angat ng iba ay may bago ng past time: Pull those people back. Para pantay na uli. Tirahan pa nga patalikod ang kalakaran diyan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rant part about school:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just like this past year. Tinitira at sinisiraan ako ni K.A.M. telling ill things behind my back and for me, I just took it as a compliment. "Uy, may naiinggit sa akin! Yish!" The problem is I've tolerated him and he grew fond of doing that. It even caused a havoc through the class now. I've spoiled him rather than telling him what the fuck is wrong with him. Now, most of CAS 2nd year student hates him and I just discovered that they've hated him ever since they heard him saying ill things behind my back. Now that Mr. K.A.M noticed that, he said that "Isa lang ang naninira sa akin/atin."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That made me laugh. Who started anyways? I've never said or done anything offending to him. Ngayon baliktaran na pala? Mahirap talaga kapag spoiled ka na, mahilig ka pang magmarunong, naiinggit ka pa, ang sama pa ng ugali mo at isip bata pa na walang alam gawin ay mamasa ng sise sa iba. That person is still a boy and I think, all of us who know him thinks that he's not really worthy of the title man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;End of Rant part for school.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, let's continue anyways. Mahilig tayong magreklamo. Wala naman tayong alam and 70% of those "activist" joining street march on a rally barely understand what's the rally for. I know. Only those people in front know what's happening and the 70% people behind got no idea of what they are yelling for and got beaten for. Nabubugbog sila ng mga batuta ng pulis sa rally pero hindi nila sigurado kung bakit sila sumali.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And another thing, nagiging defense mechanism na natin 'yong pagrereklamo. We yell in the streets ""Bulok ang gobyerno natin!" "Unano presidente natin!" "Puro magnanakaw pulitiko natin!" but have we forgotten that these government is the reflection of our own selves? Kung bulok man 'to, kagagawan natin 'to. Kung unano man presidente natin ngayon because we let her win our votes! Don't tell me nagkadayaan. These people responsible for dayaan are those people we helped to attain their current position. Puro magnanakaw pulitiko natin e hindi ba tayo rin naman ang bumoto sa kanila?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I'm committing the very same mistake I'm ranting about but I just want those people that reads this blog that we really got a problem. And that problem is us. Me. You. He. She. Them. They.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We criticize because unconsciously, people tend to use criticism as a scapegoat. Namimintas tayo kasi hindi natin mapintasan ang sarili natin. Kapag sinabi natin na babaero ang ibang lalake at lalake tayo, what we really mean is "babaero ako. Naiinis ako sa kaniya so siya na 'yong babaero. Hindi ako." (Hindi ba Mr. K.A.M.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another one is napaka-irrational nating mga pinoy. We don't think systematically that's why progress will just be a dream for us unless we start thinking logically and critically about our issues and problems. The problem is, kapag may inintroduce na bagong idea sa atin at bagong systema para mapabilis ang lahat, do'n pa rin tayo sa nakasanayan, dun sa bulok, dun sa basura at dun sa walang kakwenta-kwenta 80% of the time. And we hate this people who introduced as new refreshing way to deal with our issues and problems. Like BF. People hated him so much especially those sidewalk vendors. (Can't blame them at all, marahas din naman kasi 'yong demolition team ng MMDA)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So finally, ang katigasan ng ulo nating mga pinoy. We don't care much about the rules. Wag ka nang umangal coz if we do, probably we're now a progressive country like Singapore and other neighboring nation especially Japan. Look. May overpass na. May footbridge pa but we still want to cross the street where it is dangerous. Kasi madali daw. Katamaran lang ba talaga o bobo nga tayong pinoy sabi ng aking anitong si Bob. (na dinadasalan ko ang mga gawa niya na nakalagay pa sa altar.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually, we don't care about the rule because a lot of us don't care too.&lt;br /&gt;See this. A lot of students will cross the street the dangerous way if they saw people doing it too. Gagayahin natin kasi iniisip natin "ok lang, ginawa na nga niya e." But try this. Observe a person na walang makakasabay na mag jaywalking. Kita mo aakyat 'yan ng footbridge kasi nag-iisa siya. Point? Well, psychologically speaking, people tend to lose their identity to a crowd. Kapag maraming gumagawa nun, sige lang. Go lang. Marami naman kami e. mahuli man sama-sama kaming kakanta ng Lupang Hinirang (kung estudyante) O kaya magbabayad (kung hindi but I prefer singing the national anthem) Cognitively and behaviorally tested na 'yan. If we lose our identity we tend to do the things we won't be doing if our face is in public view.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hindi tayo kilala kaya gora lang ako mga bading."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Yan, I recreated the test regarding aggression, I had four boys in a meeting room where one of them wears a mask and one of them wears a mascot costume so the slightest hint of his identity is hidden and the other two is in normal wear with their face expose. The guy in a mascot costume is a closet ghey and one of the normal clad guys is ghey too. The one in the mascot outfit acted more aggressively and expressed himself in gay linggo. That's enough proof for me that if we lose our identity, we do crazy things that are normally not expected to us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mag pinoy ganiyan. Beating the red light ang madalas mangyari hindi ba tsaka jaywalking. If we saw one of the vehicles beat the red light and there's no other vehicle passing by the other lane, we follow the beater. Culturally dependent na nga tayo ang hilig pa nating mang-gaya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there. if you want me out of the country, no problem. I'm planning to go abroad anyways. Though there's no place like home I'd rather say there's no place like Philippines. Everything is inverted. Try to read Miliminas by Milo Par Pamonag. That's one good story that reflects our society.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ja ne~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started with myself. So if I came back from abroad, iba na talaga ako. May slang na pero gwapo pa rin~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't hate K.A.M. He hates me so he's an asshole. XD&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3223737905436015741-3831947244096426782?l=kishukusou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/feeds/3831947244096426782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3223737905436015741&amp;postID=3831947244096426782' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/3831947244096426782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/3831947244096426782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/2008/09/sawa-nang-maging-pinoy.html' title='Sawa nang maging Pinoy...'/><author><name>Kishuku Sou</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09918586315656832863</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3223737905436015741.post-596663546016345799</id><published>2008-09-03T19:18:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-09-03T19:42:33.014+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Jologslandia</title><content type='html'>After several months of looking for something to make fun of I finally made up my mind regarding what to hit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you're living around C&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ainta&lt;/span&gt; area and you're quite near to ___. ____ east &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;grand mall&lt;/span&gt; almost your whole life, I'm sure you've noticed the drastic change of that mall. I don't want to be so melodramatic on how it looked like some 10 years ago but I am very sure that the mall was invaded by &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Jologs&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. Before, seven to ten years ago, the mall was the pride of the east. I mean, if you're hanging out in that mall with nothing much to do then you're definitely in the norm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well before, people hanging around ___. ______ east &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;grand mall&lt;/span&gt; were good looking people and well dressed people. Not to mention, normal looking people. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;, what's the point? Try to roam around that mall in random days (preferably &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Saturdays&lt;/span&gt; or &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Sundays&lt;/span&gt;) you'll see a whole lot of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;jologs&lt;/span&gt; and those &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;jologs&lt;/span&gt; looked like as if they were a member of some kind of gang or whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You'll see three kinds of group there. (the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;jologs&lt;/span&gt; groups.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1st are those &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;emo&lt;/span&gt; type people&lt;/strong&gt; clad in a tight all black outfit with bangs swept to the side of their face and freakish thick eye.... what do you call that make up for the eye? Eye liner? Yeah. That one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;nd&lt;/span&gt; group of people are the &lt;strong&gt;Yo &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;wasup&lt;/span&gt;, bitch? people&lt;/strong&gt;. If I lost you, they were those youngsters in a &lt;strong&gt;"&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;pilit&lt;/span&gt;" &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;na&lt;/span&gt; "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;pilit&lt;/span&gt;" hip hop&lt;/strong&gt; outfit; wearing thick jackets and whatever that falls under the category of hip hop that is terribly hot. Plain stupid aren't they? We're in the tropics yet they're such an asshole and wear those &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;freakishly&lt;/span&gt; HOT outfit. By hot I mean that literally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3rd group of people are &lt;strong&gt;the bitches in uniform&lt;/strong&gt;. You know. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;High school&lt;/span&gt; girls with their quite small-semi fitted uniform blouse with quite longer skirts. And yeah, don't forget about their artistic bra design that you could see instantly the moment your eyes wanders lower. Yeah! The make up thing and their &lt;strong&gt;"&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;kundoktor&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;ng&lt;/span&gt; jeep"&lt;/strong&gt; boyfriends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know how to end this entry so let me just share something in my mind tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Mahilig nga &lt;em&gt;siya&lt;/em&gt; sa exotic!"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3223737905436015741-596663546016345799?l=kishukusou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/feeds/596663546016345799/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3223737905436015741&amp;postID=596663546016345799' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/596663546016345799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/596663546016345799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/2008/09/jologslandia.html' title='Jologslandia'/><author><name>Kishuku Sou</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09918586315656832863</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3223737905436015741.post-3863959153625549604</id><published>2008-03-22T03:14:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2008-03-22T04:52:08.510+08:00</updated><title type='text'>They WERE Roland and Mazhiel and We ARE Dylan and Azel</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NUnQlgaY4vA/R-Qc0-nfhbI/AAAAAAAAAAM/29c3pICJmQs/s1600-h/first+kiss.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180297167870330290" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NUnQlgaY4vA/R-Qc0-nfhbI/AAAAAAAAAAM/29c3pICJmQs/s320/first+kiss.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Angels do Exist.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Hello." He greeted, standing next to me. I thought it was just another day but I bump with someone that has been the very reason for me to reanalyze things especially when falling in love.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Whadup?" He jokingly asked then sat on the grass covered ground. He's always like this but I can't shake the feeling that this guy is not the same Roland I used to play with when we were little. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Nothing. Call center sucks." I said, throwing a fretful glance at him. "You?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Been better." He replied. The usual sadness in his voice was gone and that familiar melancholic tone of his voice was replaced by utter cheerfulness. Cheerfulness that I have never seen in him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"What's wrong? You're looking at me as if I'm an alien? Do I have a booger on my face?" He laughed and tugged me to sat with him. I can't help but laugh too so I did and sat down with him. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"You've changed." I said halfheartedly, throwing a stone far down the river banks. I don't know what happened to him but he changed. Changed that it was not the same aura he emanates whenever I'm around him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Me? Changed? Half yes and half no."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Half no because you're still visiting &lt;em&gt;this place&lt;/em&gt;."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;He snorted and ran his fingers to his hair. His mannerism whenever someone hit the bull's eye. Of course I won't miss, the very reason why he visits this place is &lt;em&gt;her&lt;/em&gt; and that's the ultimate truth. Its her. Not the ambiance. Its her not the scene. Its her not because we could see the building where we work in libis. Its her. Nothing more.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"And you're still the same Dylan. Major pain in the butt." He said, flipping the page of his familiar notebook and scribbling something on it. "By the way, aren't you going abroad this july?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Maybe. I don't know. If the work requires me, then so be it." Actually yes. I want to go abroad so I can escape the pain that I have been enduring for these past three years. I want to go somewhere far, far enough just to make me forget about Azel.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Still hurt, I see." He chuckled. Then snapped his notebook to my face. "You're reminding me of my old self." He paused, shot his stare to the Gazebo on the other side of the river and continued, "the Roland that was consumed by pain, hate, anger and everything that isn't nice. In short bitter."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Sino bang hindi magiging ganon? After the roadtrip, the blame is on you? I don't know, Kuya but I think both of us shares that ill-fated fairytale love story." I'm starting to feel the familiar searing pain within me. I wanted to cry but just can't. It seems like my tears have dried. I can't feel anything. Nothing. Nothing but pain. I don't know how to escape this malefice, the more I try, the more I can't move on. Para kang nasa kumunoy. Sabi nga ni Kuya, &lt;em&gt;pwersahin mong umahon lalo kang lulubog.&lt;/em&gt; He's right. I'm sinking and I think the only person that can save me is Azel.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;What happened. I asked myself. Then eyed him intently. I can't get it. Is this really him? As far as I can remember, he talks like the way I talk. Especially about this fucking thing we call love. Love that most of the time cause more agony than fulfillment.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;He just chuckled and showed me his old, black 6600, showing Azel's number in his contact list. "Its her number right?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Where did you get that?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"From the Guy up there?" He shot back, pointing to the sky. "Punchline is, I can help other people with their problem and gave them their dream solution but when it comes to my problem, I'm always out. Unfair but its okay." He then stood up and lifted his gaze up to the clear blue sky. "I've always wanted to talk to her but I think there wont be a chance anymore." The joy in voice faded only to be replaced by a sounding remorse. Whatever it was that made me listen was inexplicable.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Gusto ko lang naman magsorry, and hope to God that we'll be able to pick up the things that we left. Specifically our friendship." His eyes went back to me. "Hindi naman talaga kami nagkaroon ng sarili naming oras, always on a haste just for her to make it home earlier."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"So you're blaming her?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Not really. I can't blame her of course. Both us have our own shares of faults in our relationship. The only thing that I want is for her to listen. She could hear my plea but I think she's not listening. Hearing is very different from listening."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Fuck it ok, what's the point?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Nothing. I just want to release something." Then he chuckled. It was annoying of him but whatever it is that changed him must have been bigger than the pain she inflicted to him. Big enough to make this dumb ass happy again or seemingly happy, whatever.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Ask me a question, I'll answer it." He said gesturing like dimwit T.V. host in front of me. "No, tell me your prayer, your ultimate concern and maybe I can make it happen."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Don't mess with me, 'aight?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"C'mon, there's no harm on trying."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Fuck it, the last time I tried brought me here, with this freaking pain!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"If you don't want to, okay." He said to me, his voice then was serious. "Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Nah, its alright." He said, sitting down back next to me. "Always been dreaming of becoming an angel." He said, staring at the sky. "So I can forgive myself."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Silence.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;He said nothing, so did I. Only the chirping of the bird and the leaves swaying with the wind were the only thing we heard. I don't know what happened but I told him what I'm praying for.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"I want her back, the way you wanted Mazhiel back a year ago."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;He said nothing but a calm smile traced his lips.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"I'm having doubts already to God, I'm challenging Him these past years. I'm challenging Him if He is true, make her come back to me, and if she did comes back, I'll devout my whole life to God."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;He looked at me with the usual "kuya look" in his eyes, as if assuring me that what I prayed for will be mine. Soon. As in later or tomorrow.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"You're lucky." He said, giving me his old notebook. "Read that."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I read his work and noted that this piece should be read by Azel.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;a href="http://furiuosdevilhunter.blogs.friendster.com/my_blog/2008/03/something_from_.html"&gt;http://furiuosdevilhunter.blogs.friendster.com/my_blog/2008/03/something_from_.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"I wrote that when you know." He said, taking the notebook from me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I heaved a tired sigh, memories of her came in a barrage. I don't really like it when her face came flashing before my very eyes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Are you really serious about challenging God?" He asked, like an arrow shot and landed directly to its mark, his question hit me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Yes, just make her come back to me."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"Well, good." He said, turning behind us. "That's good because she's here." He continued, standing up. I on the other hand didn't belied my eyes as a very familiar figure stood several paces away from us. It was Azel, with the usual timid look in her face.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;"I'm outa here. God bless you two." Were Roland's last words before he left us. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;From that moment on, I surrendered my whole life to God. Now I believe that angels do exist and everything is possible to God.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3223737905436015741-3863959153625549604?l=kishukusou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/feeds/3863959153625549604/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3223737905436015741&amp;postID=3863959153625549604' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/3863959153625549604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/3863959153625549604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/2008/03/they-were-roland-and-mazhiel-and-we-are.html' title='They WERE Roland and Mazhiel and We ARE Dylan and Azel'/><author><name>Kishuku Sou</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09918586315656832863</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NUnQlgaY4vA/R-Qc0-nfhbI/AAAAAAAAAAM/29c3pICJmQs/s72-c/first+kiss.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3223737905436015741.post-6993404175853495254</id><published>2008-01-15T19:14:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-01-15T19:27:07.521+08:00</updated><title type='text'>English</title><content type='html'>Now I know why other asian choose to learn english here in the philippines. Because Pilipino people are one of the best people in asia that could use english fluently and eloquently. Besides, if you haven't noticed that some signs in english (in asian countries nearby) really sucks and will drive you nuts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For example, a warning in a train station in tokyo says something like..uhh? Just check it out, here's the link.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;span style="color:#0000ff;"&gt;(Tinanggal ko kasi baka mademanda ako. Try niyo na lang maghanap sa engrish.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hindi na ako mag-e-english, baka mapintasan pa dahil namimintas pa ako. Next time na magtaka ka bakit sobrang daming singkit dito sa Pilipinas e alam mo na ang sagot. Nag-aaral silang mag-english. Tas babayaran lang tayo ng kakarampot. C'mon. Lalo na 'yong mga school institution na ginagawang libangan (profit source) ang mga "training-for-our-people-and-service-for-our-fellow-asians-who-suck-in-english" na 'yan e mag-isip isip.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3223737905436015741-6993404175853495254?l=kishukusou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/feeds/6993404175853495254/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3223737905436015741&amp;postID=6993404175853495254' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/6993404175853495254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/6993404175853495254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/2008/01/english.html' title='English'/><author><name>Kishuku Sou</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09918586315656832863</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3223737905436015741.post-3554294458602008537</id><published>2007-11-20T15:13:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-11-20T15:38:54.344+08:00</updated><title type='text'>6 8 12 Syndrome</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I was really happy that night. It was cold, a sign that the holidays is coming. It was the very first time in times like this I felt very happy. I don't know, I'm just happy. Seems like everything was perfect for me that night. The wind, brushing against my auburn hair was alive yet cold. The moon was there, silently hovering above me. The flickering of merry Christmas lights went on as I let a veiled smile in my lips. I was about to sing for an occasion. But I didn't know what the hell I would sing in front of the whole family of my friend. Then, when I arrived, they gave me a copy of the song's lyrics...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Do you ever think about me?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Do you ever cry yourself to sleep?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;In the middle of the night when you're awake,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Are you calling out for me?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Do you ever reminisce?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I cant believe I'm acting like this&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I know its crazy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;How I still can feel your kiss&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Its been six months eight days twelve hours since&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;you went away&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I miss you so much and I don't know what to say&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I should be over you,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I should know better but its not just the case&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Its been six months eight days twelve hours since you went away&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Do you ever ask about me?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Do your friends still tell you what to do?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Every time the phone rings&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Do you wish it was me calling you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Do you still feel the same?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Or has time put out the flame?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I miss you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Is everything okay?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Its been six months eight days twelve hours since&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; you went away&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; I miss you so much and I don't know what to say&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; I should be over you,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; I should know better but its not just the case&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Its been six months eight days twelve hours since you went away&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Its hard enough just passing the time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;When I can't seem to get you off my mind&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;And where is the good in goodbye?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tell me why, tell me why&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Its been six months eight days twelve hours since&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; you went away&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; I miss you so much and I don't know what to say&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; I should be over you,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; I should know better but its not just the case&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Its been six months eight days twelve hours since you went away&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sing it for me...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/SMQvG351rYU&amp;amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/SMQvG351rYU&amp;amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I sang the song well. Of course I'm a fan of Bryan Mcknight and besides, I'm familiar with almost of his songs.But I think its not my familiarity that brought the song well. Maybe because, once in my life, something happened to me that's very similar to the song's message. And I miss her so much and I don't know what to say.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3223737905436015741-3554294458602008537?l=kishukusou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/feeds/3554294458602008537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3223737905436015741&amp;postID=3554294458602008537' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/3554294458602008537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/3554294458602008537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/2007/11/6-8-12-syndrome.html' title='6 8 12 Syndrome'/><author><name>Kishuku Sou</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09918586315656832863</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3223737905436015741.post-8956764799111020369</id><published>2007-10-17T18:09:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-10-17T18:16:10.652+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tekken Addict</title><content type='html'>I've always been an avid fan and a hardcore player of the Tekken Series especially the latest installment: Tekken 5/ Tekken 5: Dark Resurrection (let's include TEKKEN TAG). And I'd never really thought about the tekken syndrome getting into me so deeply that it affects my thinking and everyday work. Take for an instance when I coached our Org's Basketball team.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Player: Coach, ano plan? (he said while he was slowly passing by me.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: &lt;em&gt;Godfist&lt;/em&gt; mo, tapos i-&lt;em&gt;juggle&lt;/em&gt; mo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Player: Huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:Pag na-&lt;em&gt;juggle&lt;/em&gt; mo 'wag mo na bitawan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Player: Ano 'yon coach?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: &lt;em&gt;Tapos pasa mo sa kakampi mo. Mag tag ka!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;End result, we lost the game.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3223737905436015741-8956764799111020369?l=kishukusou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/feeds/8956764799111020369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3223737905436015741&amp;postID=8956764799111020369' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/8956764799111020369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/8956764799111020369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/2007/10/tekken-addict.html' title='Tekken Addict'/><author><name>Kishuku Sou</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09918586315656832863</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3223737905436015741.post-6745078296766806600</id><published>2007-09-05T17:01:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-09-05T17:30:10.018+08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Jeep Ride To School</title><content type='html'>I'd never thought that riding my usual "patok" jeep would turn out to be one hell of a mess. What happened? Well, here's the story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was looking for a nice jeep to ride, (well, I'm actually looking for the "patok" jeep that has the kind of music that will fill me in the whole duration of the travel.) less than 10 minutes I found one and took it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its nice, very comfortable and not to mention the jeep's music was so cool that it made me sing along with every song that the DJ played. Err I mean, "kundoktor."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was seated near the "estribo" so I could see everyone who's climbing up. I thought there's nothing special about that position but when this beautiful girl came aboard, I realized how lucky I am sitting here (Only to find out that this position is also cursed). Why? Well, because we were riding a "patok" you could expect that the driver would start hitting the gas as soon as he saw your body inside the jeep. The driver hit the gas, the girl almost fell and I'm the only hope so I catch her. I thought I was hearing the song with the line:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"catch me I'm falling for you..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;when our eyes met. She's very beautiful and she's...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Thanks," she said. Her voice...she's...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What the fuck! She's a gay! I mean he's a gay!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dumfuck! I almost puked the moment I realized that. So being as gentle as I could I restrained myself from punching her...him. Darn it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I drowned myself to the intoxicating music of that Jeep, I was really pissed so I need an entertainment. A solid one to make me forget what happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another girl came aboard, I ignored her coz I thought she might be another decepticons but when I noticed she's wearing a kind of loose tank top with a very cute neckline, I rejoiced for once again this seat was blessed. Yes! I'm lucky to be seated her!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much for my perversion another set of girls came aboard, beautiful girls that seemed to be angels, angels with a single devil with them. Darn it! Another gay for the day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But before all them are inside, this guy sitting beside me noticed that the girls are too beautiful to be just seated next to a "goon" (the man right in front of me that looked like Lizardo from the old Panday movies) so he decided to transfer beside the "goon." (so that he could be seated right next to one of those beautiful girls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first thought that came to my mind was:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Here's another pervert, a more perverted man than me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But to my surprise, the girls noticed what he is planning so all of them sat beside me and the only gay of the group sat beside the guy who transferred.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Good." I mumbled grinning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20 minutes later, Linkin Park's songs were being played and I was so really enjoying the music that I sang along loudly. The speaker was too loud for everyone of us so my co-passengers won't notice that I'm singing my heart out that time. To my dismay the sound went dead all of sudden in the middle of the line:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You like to think you're never wrong!!!" (You lived what you've learned)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was singing that time when the music died so I was left singing like a drunken retard there. All of the passengers looked at me, including the gay that I caught. He's smiling darn it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next thing I said was:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ma tabi lang."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After alighting, I ran as fast as I could coz that was the most humiliating day of my life next to the lactacyd episode! Well, I just said to myself that day:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Badtrip napahiya ako doon sobra!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3223737905436015741-6745078296766806600?l=kishukusou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/feeds/6745078296766806600/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3223737905436015741&amp;postID=6745078296766806600' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/6745078296766806600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/6745078296766806600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/2007/09/jeep-ride-to-school.html' title='A Jeep Ride To School'/><author><name>Kishuku Sou</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09918586315656832863</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3223737905436015741.post-871941248961259</id><published>2007-08-16T13:23:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T13:37:31.018+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tired of Waiting for Answers.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;I’m so tired. Tired of looking for that girl that will love me for what I am. I guess my decision is right. Priesthood. I’ve seen the face of God through her and its already enough for me. I’m thankful that I loved someone with all of my heart, that’s a once in a lifetime chance that I took. Though the relationship ended in a blink of an eye, I just want to thank her for giving me the honor to be with her and I really wanted to apologize for everything. She took me to the light, let me see the face of God through her and made me feel that once in a lifetime happiness. Now the time has come to serve God. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;I’m not a coward. It’s just that I’m tired of thinking about myself. Time to go back where I truly belong: &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Order of the Holy Cross.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;-o-&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;3 years and counting...&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;You have 3 more years to convince me not to go the order.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;And I have 3 more years to have someone who will sway my mind.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;I’m hoping for something I don’t know.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3223737905436015741-871941248961259?l=kishukusou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/feeds/871941248961259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3223737905436015741&amp;postID=871941248961259' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/871941248961259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/871941248961259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/2007/08/tired-of-waiting-for-answers.html' title='Tired of Waiting for Answers.'/><author><name>Kishuku Sou</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09918586315656832863</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3223737905436015741.post-6227004017524494459</id><published>2007-08-07T09:21:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-08-07T10:06:08.890+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Random Thoughts From an Insane Person</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;“Happiness is being married to your best friend.”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;What the hell? She’s my best friend and what happened? She left me. Ok you know who in heaven I’m talking about and if you do not, don’t ask.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I was buying something for Nouie that time when I saw that for the second time, the first was when I was looking for something to give to her (my best friend and girl friend). That was last year, Aug. 7, Monday. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The moment I rest my eyes upon those words engraved in that special stone, I smiled and told myself it’s true. I think I fantasized about our wedding day that time that I bumped into something expensive and broke it. And paid for it. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;But again, when I saw it last Tuesday, I don’t know what happened because deep inside I was cursing the one who’s responsible for doing that stupid stuff and writing something really stupid about best friends. I grew bitter each day and I admit it that until now I’m hurt.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Maybe I could pretend that I’m a happy jolly bastard but I’m really not. If got hurt and wounded your knee and tried to heal it, it would. But it would leave you a scar and then you want to erase the memory of that wound by removing the scar. Even if you removed the scar and your skin is like that of a baby, you can never really deny the fact that you received a wound. You may have removed the evidence of it but you cannot escape the fact that once you’re hurt.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;And I’m starting again about the past that I should not— never mind.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Back to my story, I bought the pig and then while making my way out something came to my mind.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;What the hell love really is?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;This is the very first time that I asked myself what is love. Well, I guess I still believe in my father that I don’t need to define love; I just need someone to define it for me.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Then I analyzed.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Love… right now I could say that I am feeling love. For whom? I don’t know. I just realized that whenever I felt like this, I always loose sleep, my mind wondering back from a certain past and of course dreaming of the idea of having her again in my arms or maybe not her but another girl? Who knows?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Then it came to me, I just realized that I was looking for love coz I could feel love I don’t have it. Its natural, if we don’t have it, we tend to look for it and then when the time comes that we found it, we don’t know what to do about. Whether to grab the chance or to let it go, coz you believe that “we’re better of friends” or maybe you’re just afraid to lose a special someone or possibly you’re just fooling your self that it is not the right time for now and there will be another one. Oh I almost forgot, or maybe you’re so consumed for a certain person that you cannot have but still hoping and waiting for that person even he/she is on a relationship while there’s someone waiting for you to look at her/him. And then when you will realize that it’s too late. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;When I saw this beautiful girl I thought to myself she’s almost perfect for me, then I heard her talking about their subject and she’s tutoring her classmate about their lessons. Beautiful, smart and of course she’s nice. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I believed in my philosophy about finding someone to love is very easy, but finding someone to love you back for what you are is very difficult. Another idea came to me while I was staring at that beautiful girl.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;It is possible to find a very smart and beautiful girl and it’s possible too to find someone who’ll always makes you smile and stuff. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Let say&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Magandang bobang napapangite ka dahil sa ka-eng engan niya at isang simpleng matalinong super sungit at isa pang simpleng mahinhin na super lambing.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I could find those girls. And I’m confident to say that because I’m pertaining to my friends. Hahaha!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;But what I realized that time was it is once in a life time to find a girl who has all the qualities you want in a girl, and when she comes, no matter how short her stay is, you’ll love her forever and will change you literally. For better of worse, who knows?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;And yes, I agree with that.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Someone came, loved me, and then left me. I was so stupid to let her go and I can’t stop blaming myself for not being a worthy partner for her. She did change my COA in my life. (Coarse of Action)&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Now, I know I’m bitter and would trust a dog than a girl. Yes it is I. But still, someone is always proving me wrong and for that I could say that I might grow in love with her.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I could have my average grade 1.25 but by doing that what could I attain if there’s no someone to dedicate that victory? I could be the greatest psychologist ever existed in the field but what the hell do I have? Just myself. I think someone’s right. Love moves the world and it does make the world a better place. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3223737905436015741-6227004017524494459?l=kishukusou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/feeds/6227004017524494459/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3223737905436015741&amp;postID=6227004017524494459' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/6227004017524494459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/6227004017524494459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/2007/08/random-thoughts-from-insane-person.html' title='Random Thoughts From an Insane Person'/><author><name>Kishuku Sou</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09918586315656832863</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3223737905436015741.post-6259594066245214449</id><published>2007-06-30T15:46:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-06-30T16:10:04.374+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lapitin Daw Ako Sabi nina Doctora at  Ma'am.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;What a luck, yesterday I was brought to the infirmary coz I almost fainted after completing the 1000-meter run. Ok, I’m really not that fit and I’m not used to running like that. As if someone whom you banged yesterday is chasing you and asking you to marry her. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;My vision went all white after completing the run and then I just noticed that I’m not feeling so well. What I did next is I approached my instructress to ask for any instruction, she said that I should keep my head lower than my heart. So I did. After a minute or so I’m ok again. But when I walked across the quadrangle, the sickening sensation came back. My eyes went white once again and this time, I’m much more disoriented than earlier.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;So two big men came to me and brought me to the clinic. The nurse there let me rest for a few minutes after checking my status. Of course, my instructress was there for me while waiting for the doctor and then she said bye coz she needs to attend our class. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Ok rest rest and rest after some tests.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;After 30 minutes or so lying awake there, my &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;ALL FEMALE friends&lt;/span&gt; came.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Theresa, Nouie, Jonna, Dianne, April, Belle, Maryrose and Tin came ang wrecked havoc in the clinic asking for my condition.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;After that, they left. They still have to attend our class, as for me, as you can see I’m wasted so I’m excused.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Then the nurse came to and said.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;“Pagkarami rami mo naman palang girls! Iba ka hijo!”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Then she left and was replaced by the Dra. de Leon saying.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;“Ang dami mong girls ah? Maya maya lang ok ka na!”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Well I guess their visit helped me a lot. Thanks to them I’m quite ok now. Well, not really but knowing that they’re concerned about me is already enough for me to stand and to run 2000 meters if anyone ask me to. Well I guess after finishing that run I’ll find myself in the morgue?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Thanks girls. Mahal na mahal ko kayo!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Oh! I forgot! My professor in Filipino saw me at the faculty room with my mom and revealed to my mother dear that almost every girl in our class are looking at me while she was discussing. She’s my favorite professor yet she sees me us the number 1&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt; lapitin &lt;/span&gt;of our school. Well I guess I am what I am, someone has to be. ^__^&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3223737905436015741-6259594066245214449?l=kishukusou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/feeds/6259594066245214449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3223737905436015741&amp;postID=6259594066245214449' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/6259594066245214449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/6259594066245214449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/2007/06/lapitin-daw-ako-sabi-nina-doctora-at.html' title='Lapitin Daw Ako Sabi nina Doctora at  Ma&apos;am.'/><author><name>Kishuku Sou</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09918586315656832863</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3223737905436015741.post-3460967418946352201</id><published>2007-06-13T20:48:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-06-13T20:53:39.224+08:00</updated><title type='text'>No More Bring Me Game For Me.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;First day of School: The Ultimate Humiliation.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;This is just great. You know what, after seven hours of grueling orientation and stuffs, I ended up with a nice bang for my fellow transferees and to those freshies. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Ok after all of us were transferred to the main campus building, this happy jolly MC started a game for some serious ice breaking. Of course, all of us there were tired and all, take note of the temperature today and its now getting late. We’ve been there for seven hours already so we need something to brighten up things a bit.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;So this is what happened.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Bring me game.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;His first item?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;BPI ATM card.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I heard that so I run to the stage while pulling the card from my wallet and I handed it to the other MC the moment I arrived at the stage.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;MC: Great! Here’s the winner! See guys? &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Lactacyd&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; is really cool that even guys want one.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Then I go.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“What the fuck?”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“Lactacyd?”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“As in feminine wash”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Then this beautiful girl handed me this gift pack from Lactacyd with a genuine smile on her face and she even took a picture of us. With me holding the gift pack, given by…I forgot the professor’s name.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;So there, in front of the whole beginners in our new school witnessed my worst nightmare. I assume that 600 plus students witnessed that. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I went down again, my fellow students from the colleges of Arts and Sciences ignored me as I make my way back to them. I don’t know if its about the feminine wash or is it just that one of them humiliated the department without asking what is the price for that stupid bring me game.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Lesson for the day: Don’t participate in any game if you don’t know what the price is or better yet, participate only if there’s no price at all. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3223737905436015741-3460967418946352201?l=kishukusou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/feeds/3460967418946352201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3223737905436015741&amp;postID=3460967418946352201' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/3460967418946352201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/3460967418946352201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/2007/06/no-more-bring-me-game-for-me.html' title='No More Bring Me Game For Me.'/><author><name>Kishuku Sou</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09918586315656832863</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3223737905436015741.post-2603218337705313042</id><published>2007-05-07T03:20:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-05-07T04:10:52.792+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tekken's Most Deceptive Strategy=Perfect</title><content type='html'>Coz another entry might prove that I'm completely sane, then I'll post another stupid topic about something really stupid that I noticed just recently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, questions firsts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Are you familiar with the fighting game series called Dead or Alive?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If yes, continue reading.&lt;br /&gt;If no, you may proceed if you really want to read something stupid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Are you familiar with its features? Like &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;BOUNCING BREASTS&lt;/span&gt; of the female characters and a hell lot of costumes for the three main female characters?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Are you familiar with the Tekken series? Especially the recent game installment?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Are you familiar with Christie Monteiro, Asuka, Julia, Xiaoyu, Nina and Anna Williams?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok let's start.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you're familiar with the DoA game then you probably know their trademark features. Yes, the bouncing of breast that always distracts me whenever I play the game and fight my way against any opponents.  Yes, I'm such a big looser in that particular game. The reason? Their special features. The bouncing breasts. It always leaves me defeated and with a nose flooded with blood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You could imagine me like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sitting in a cross sitting position, eyes wide in awe and focused at the monitor, holding the controller, nose bleeds  and a bulge in my crotch. &lt;- Miscellaneous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, just recently, I was playing Tekken 5 Dark Resurrection at Time Zone Metro East and then I just noticed that my opponents character's boobs were jiggling/slightly bouncing. [Nina Williams] I thought it was just my imagination. Skeptical to what I noticed I attacked again my not so good juggle combo with my ever trusty Jin Kazama. The boobs jiggled! I'm not dreaming! It's true! I finished the battle with a wide grin drawn all over my face, talking to myself like a mentally retarded kid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe just Nina? Or everyone with a quite revealing outfit? To my amusement, the defeated warrior challenged me again. This time, he used Christie against my Jin. Perfect! Just what I needed! We fought. He emerged victorious. Thanks for his unmanly, cheese, not to mention the lowest art reckless button mashing tricks which I found very annoying [Very unpredictable, no pattern at all! Unmanly of course.] and the jiggling boobs of Christie, it is one hell of a distraction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I observed, everyone of the female characters of the Tekken game have their boobs jiggled slightly and you won't notice it unless you have keen eyes. [translation: pervertedly keen eyes]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nice jiggling breasts, stop it coz its annoying and distracting. I hope that the next Tekken [6] would not feature the jiggling breasts anymore. Very very dangerous to combat, I must say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tekken= Juggle&lt;br /&gt;DoA= Jiggle&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is the word Juggle synonymous to the word Jiggle?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3223737905436015741-2603218337705313042?l=kishukusou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/feeds/2603218337705313042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3223737905436015741&amp;postID=2603218337705313042' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/2603218337705313042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/2603218337705313042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/2007/05/tekkens-most-deceptive-strategyperfect.html' title='Tekken&apos;s Most Deceptive Strategy=Perfect'/><author><name>Kishuku Sou</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09918586315656832863</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3223737905436015741.post-5528935607068380722</id><published>2007-04-24T16:02:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-04-24T17:46:46.019+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Courtships</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I've been reading some historical stuffs lately and I just realized something about our tardation...I mean Tradition. Then just a few hours after I woke up, I decided to walk around the village and to my amusement, I came across two dogs making love. Just then I wondered if the dogs has this courtship stuffs like other animals such us penguins, rabbits and roaches. Then came this questions inside my head whose courtship ever graced the cultural diversity across the planet is the worst. I recounted that 2 or 3 years ago I've read some Soc-Anthro book that has a topic about Filipino courtship [Of course, courtship is always one of the most interesting topic to me] but to my dismay, they're nowhere to be found. I think those were the ones I gave away or the ones I burned when I'm in a blind rage several months ago. Don't ask, you know why.&lt;/p&gt;But I'll discuss courtship based on what I've learned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Roughly based on my memory so please bear with me and I can't remember who are the authors of those books I've read before so if happens that you're familiar with them please do tell me. I should thank them for giving me some knowledge about our traditional courtship.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Courtship during the early times took great patience, hard work and dedication on the part of the man to win the hand of his dearly beloved lady. The custom back then requires that the guys must serve the family of the girl for months…even years *shivers* and some of those customs survived until this very day to the rural areas specially somewhere south.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Darn it, our generation is quite lucky to have our own style of courtship. As usual, he must chop woods, fetch water (if he gets lucky he make silip silip while the girl is taking a bath.) and do the chores required to him. I love the fetching of water chore. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;The two were forbidden to talk to each other and only their eyes meet occasionally to exchange mute messages of love [Translation: of course mischief!] Imagine that? And to add some nice desperation, there’s no chance for the two to meet secretly. Why? Of course! The girl was keenly guarded by her parents/her grandparents who where always on the watch for any sign of mischief on the part of the suitor or their girl. *grin*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Reminds me of that line “Your daughter is a freak!” oh ho, I hate the old times big time!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And after the parents were satisfied in enslaving the poor guy and after they’ve decided that the suitor would make a good husband and son-in-law [Translation: Slave], they’d finally give conditions. &lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;See, you girls must’ve been loving it back then ne? That today you, all of you girls out there developed this egotistical ideas, characters and etc that you often accuse the boys for being so you know when the truth is, that is you, all of you is the real culprit for being such an supercilious being. Enjoying every second of your suitor’s misery for loving you.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255); font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;Am I really that scornful towards women? Ha ha! Can’t blame me, one from your kind wrecked my heart. Big Time. and I mean &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;BIG TIME.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Enough of my rants here and let’s continue.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Where were we? Oh there, conditions.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Let’s start with the words &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;“dowry,”&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;“pamamanhikan,”&lt;/span&gt; and of course my personal favorite, &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;“bride price.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Ha ha! What the hell is that? Selling your daughter? Ha ha!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Fuck the Filipino’s old traditions! Fuck it!&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(I’ve successfully inserted my subliminal message.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt; I think conditions revolved around the dowry. What the hell dowry is? Well sort of a gift turned over by the groom to the bride’s parents and most books says &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;“&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; for all sensible purposes in exchange for the bride.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;And if my memory serves me right, in European country, the dowry refers to their tradition where the bride’s parents will give a considerable present to the would be husband. But as we all know it and as Bob pointed out, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;BALIKTAD MAGBASA NG LIBRO ANG MGA PINOY. &lt;/span&gt;[Bob, I pray to you.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt; When the guy decided to marry the girl, he will consult his parents and the elders of his family. If the girl’s family is acceptable to them, they’ll start negotiating in a ceremony we call now as &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;“pamamanhikan”&lt;/span&gt; and trust me, I have no idea what the hell is that and what are the issues the elders discuss in today’s &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;“pamamanhikan.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Back then, the old timers of both parties will talk-slash-argue-slash-kill-each-other-slash-discuss the terms of a dowry [If they don’t like each other, I think and this scene is very usual today.] with great diplomacy. [Back then, thousands of years ago.]&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;You call the dowry as a usual marriage settlement that consist of the would be husband and wife’s necessities. &lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Ok this is the fun part, laugh until you die if you want for I will enumerate several kinds of dowry.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Bigay Kaya&lt;/span&gt;-Land, gold etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Pang-himuyat-&lt;/span&gt;Amount of money given to the bride-to-be’s mother as payment for her efforts in guiding the girl to womanhood.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Bigay-Suso-&lt;/span&gt; The name already told you about it. ^_^ No, you won’t give your titties but the milk from your own to the girl’s wet-nurse.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Himaraw-&lt;/span&gt;reinbursement to the girl’s parents for the amount spent for the girl&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Sambon-&lt;/span&gt;and I think a bribe to be given to the girl’s relatives.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;And I got this image inside my head that back then, when a guy wants to marry a girl, the girl’s parents will take the girl on stage and conducts an auction for their girl. It seems like when the girl is going to be married, her parents and her family sells her. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;But today, youths like us enjoy greater freedom especially in choosing our own mate. Today, most…&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;SOME&lt;/span&gt; of our parents agree to it because they think that it is their child who will live the rest of his/her life with their mates and &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;in case the marriage does not succeed, they cannot blame their parents.&lt;/span&gt; Smart choices eh? That’s why we call them &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;“Magulang.”&lt;/span&gt; Yet they keep a keen eye to the person whom we associate to/with *whatever* and as much as possible they’ll try to influence our decision. See? That’s another proof why we call them “&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Magulang.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt; About our freedom for mate selection also think that most abused that freedom and got &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;banged &lt;/span&gt;earlier than they should. You’ll see some of my former classmates now with their child. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Special Thanks to:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bob Ong for inspiring me to write something.&lt;br /&gt;(May special plugging ka pa ng book mo ha, kahit hindi ko pa nababasa 'yon. Ok na sa akin ang isang kopya ng apat mong libro pwera lang stainless. Thanks.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To all Soc-Anthro book author! Sorry I can't remember what/which books I've read and who are the authors but still, thank you. You all know who you are.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3223737905436015741-5528935607068380722?l=kishukusou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/feeds/5528935607068380722/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3223737905436015741&amp;postID=5528935607068380722' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/5528935607068380722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/5528935607068380722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/2007/04/courtships.html' title='Courtships'/><author><name>Kishuku Sou</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09918586315656832863</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3223737905436015741.post-5150419776355011746</id><published>2007-04-21T12:53:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-04-21T13:37:42.526+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Popularity in Writing</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;"Popularity in Writing"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;That's the idea bouncing back and forth inside my head. I acquired that idea from where? Of course, Ragnaboards Fan Fic section. Until this very second, the words still resounds inside my head.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;For my own idea, I write because it is the only way I can express myself clearly...somehow. I want to share my ideas through writing, I want to share my life experiences through writing and of course I want to share my pains through writing. For once, I've experienced popularity and its not that good as many people sees it and popularity is not the reason why I write.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Popularity comes hand in hand with your own doom.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'll write until I die but I'll avoid popularity.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Because there are people around who can't stand seeing you high above them and will do anything to pull you down to their level. (lalo na 'yong mga nasa Tard City)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[there are people also who knows nothing about the issues yet wants to grill you because they believe that they were the victims &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"&gt;(of your writings)&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and to those people who know nothing but to meddle with other peoples affair, those people who keeps on pulling someone down though they don't know the whole truth, two words for you. "God Bless"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;[And yes, I'm talking about you, wag mo nang itanong kung &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;sino ka.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Fan Fare ROCKS~!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tard City SUCKS~! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3223737905436015741-5150419776355011746?l=kishukusou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/feeds/5150419776355011746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3223737905436015741&amp;postID=5150419776355011746' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/5150419776355011746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/5150419776355011746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/2007/04/popularity-in-writing.html' title='Popularity in Writing'/><author><name>Kishuku Sou</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09918586315656832863</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3223737905436015741.post-7996670576957035091</id><published>2007-04-11T23:49:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-04-12T00:29:34.506+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Michelle part 3</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;April 09 2007, Monday, 06:24 pm.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;She said yes. She made me the happiest man on earth that night.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;She made me her &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;BF~!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;BEST FRIEND. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3223737905436015741-7996670576957035091?l=kishukusou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/feeds/7996670576957035091/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3223737905436015741&amp;postID=7996670576957035091' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/7996670576957035091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/7996670576957035091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/2007/04/michelle-part-3.html' title='Michelle part 3'/><author><name>Kishuku Sou</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09918586315656832863</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3223737905436015741.post-7261281109953477622</id><published>2007-04-02T04:49:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-04-02T06:03:22.232+08:00</updated><title type='text'>PKMK</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;http://ragnaboards.levelupgames.ph/index.php?showtopic=24524&amp;st=0&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;That is actually a fic written by me and that story is actually plot less. What the hell you call a story without a plot? Everyone agrees in fan fare that plot less stories are called &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;PORN&lt;/span&gt;. Well, I agree. A lot of action but without a plot. So that story, Paano Kung Mahal Kita is actually a porn? I don't know but to be honest, I was writing some silly stuffs right now and that story is just a mere practice. And that practice story is "come-what-may" for me because I don't have any plot to start with. And as you can see, my English is one bloody mess. I'm really not that good in English coz my gift is in our own language. But still, PKMK sucks. Its a starting point for me here at RB but still, the Project Orphanage will be my first focus this year.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Right kevin? You're the main protagonist in that story and you'll be very happy to see its ending.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You'll die. Your fiance's father will kill you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Kevin: *umaakbay kay girl*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;father: Ehem ehem&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Kevin: Gusto niyo po ng bisolvon?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Father: Ikaw, gusto mo sa &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ICU?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;oh well, its April 2... hufwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh.... I haven't sleep yet so I should press the red button now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;P.S.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Who wants to be Kevin's love interest in the Orphanage? YM niyo na lang. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3223737905436015741-7261281109953477622?l=kishukusou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/feeds/7261281109953477622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3223737905436015741&amp;postID=7261281109953477622' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/7261281109953477622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/7261281109953477622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/2007/04/pkmk.html' title='PKMK'/><author><name>Kishuku Sou</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09918586315656832863</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3223737905436015741.post-344870788233516338</id><published>2007-03-24T16:18:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-03-24T16:35:53.742+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Michelle Part 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;We met yesterday. I'm happy but I just realized something new about her. I realized that she became someone else, she's not the little Michelle I know anymore. Yes, I know that change is the only permanent thing in this world and I'm very happy that she trusts me to know her more. I may not know her that much right now or whatever but I'm willing to take this chance to know her better. Well, I'm not thinking about anything related to relationship right now but the real plan is to help her change. Well, not really change but to help her grow more to become a better, stronger person. Yes, that's the exact same reason almost a year ago when someone came back from my past.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Deja vu?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I don't know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Whether it is a test or chance for me now then I'll gladly take it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I want to help her and I must admit that I like her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;If ever that she might be reading this then so be it, at least she know now what I'm thinking about her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Wait, yes I did tell her 2 years ago that I like her. I hope she remembers it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Plus, I learned something new again yesterday when we talked about our stuffs and silly me, now there are two girls in my life that will always prove wrong about them. Women.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3223737905436015741-344870788233516338?l=kishukusou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/feeds/344870788233516338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3223737905436015741&amp;postID=344870788233516338' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/344870788233516338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/344870788233516338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/2007/03/michelle-part-2.html' title='Michelle Part 2'/><author><name>Kishuku Sou</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09918586315656832863</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3223737905436015741.post-3227084668232666246</id><published>2007-03-21T04:32:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-03-31T17:23:05.207+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lies</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"An artist use lies to tell the truth while the politician use lies to tell the truth."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;-V, Evey's father.V for Vendetta.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Its been months since I first saw V for Vendetta and I'm still wondering why does the original DVD copy of that movie hasn't lower its price yet. Well, perhaps of its theme, political tyranny and err... political activism? For me, V is another symbol for freedom, courage, vengeance, test, tricks, lies and random insanity. Just like Rizal, he was inspire by the Count of Monte Cristo and guess what? When I started bombing, please do blame El Fili and Noli. Oh yeah of course V for Vendetta.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Looks like I went too far from my topic? What's my topic in the first place? Oh yeah, about the lies that could tell the truth. That's quite true for me, I usually use my stories to tell someone the truth like for example, I use this certain story to tell a girl that I grew in love with her. I hope she's reading that story to get my message.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Well another thing about my stories (written stories) they were all based on someone's life, I mean, like if I use your name at a certain story that I'm currently working on, then it must have something to do with you or must have something to tell you.  Or maybe, I'm just trying to tell you something stupid that I know you wouldn't want to hear but I really want to tell you. But whatever it is, my English still sucks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3223737905436015741-3227084668232666246?l=kishukusou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/feeds/3227084668232666246/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3223737905436015741&amp;postID=3227084668232666246' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/3227084668232666246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/3227084668232666246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/2007/03/lies.html' title='Lies'/><author><name>Kishuku Sou</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09918586315656832863</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3223737905436015741.post-1396067093982910489</id><published>2007-03-21T02:47:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-03-21T03:32:04.514+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Michelle</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I don't know what to write here and honestly my English still sucks too. I don't know how should I feel whenever we talked about these random stuffs about relationship specially about the illegality issues of some (most likely girls) who doesn't inform their parents they're having a relationship with their bestfriend err, nevermind.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;She's been a close friend to me since we were little and besides, she led our elite team of cleaners way back when we were 10 and we got so close to each other that I often walk her to her fetch. Now she's back, well we've been schoolmates in highschool but never been classmates and when I decided to leave that freaking school of ours, I lost contact with her. We haven't talked to each other since we graduated in elementary and I left the school when I was in third year so there's no actual contact between us. I really like her back then and to tell you the truth (whoever you are reading this silly entry) I tried to court her but I was too slow to win her heart or I'm still a baby roughly 4 years ago.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;2 years ago I regained my contact with her and started texting her with no intentions of courting her, (believe me.) and poof, few months later she's gone again. I think her mother dear confiscated her phone, I dunno why but I have this idea that it has something to do with her lovelife. Duh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Then again, several month after Chie and I broke up, she came back and God really loves me to send her back into my life to have another reason to smile or he's just testing me whether I'll go for her or wait for Chie.  And now, here we are againg trying to build a good communication between us and I'm quite happy that whenever she has a load, she'll text me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Well, I'm hoping for the best but expecting the worst.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3223737905436015741-1396067093982910489?l=kishukusou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/feeds/1396067093982910489/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3223737905436015741&amp;postID=1396067093982910489' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/1396067093982910489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/1396067093982910489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/2007/03/michelle.html' title='Michelle'/><author><name>Kishuku Sou</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09918586315656832863</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3223737905436015741.post-889701020602577203</id><published>2007-02-28T07:44:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-02-28T10:11:44.431+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Indecent Blog Entry</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I can't come up with a decent blog entry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Yeah, that's the truth and it happens too that I'm not that good in English? See? My English is one bloody mess and if you're thinking about leaving this page, you may do so. Perhaps i should be practicing with my own style of writing and continue doing something productive instead of writing something stupid about something really stupid. You got me?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What time is it? I dunno, its already past 8 in the morning and I'm still up, yep, heard me right, I'm still up. Don't worry, I'm used to it, spending the whole night sucking my victim's blood dry or even peeping with my neighbor whose love making is every night. Forgot to tell you that they were senior citizens and I enjoyed every scene before puking like there's no tomorrow. Actually I discovered their kinky what-the-hell-you-call-that-style last last night when I'm writing something for my story, I was distracted by an eerie moan coming from somewhere near. A bit frightened, I opened my window facing the window of my neighbor and ta-da~! Grandma jumping like hell on top of Grandpa who seemed to be enjoying the whole thing. My first, reaction? Guess what? Yuck? Nah, i said.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Cool, I've  never seen a suicide trick like that before."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I just learned something new the moment I saw them doing that, that is &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;to do it as early as you can so that you won't ever look like that in your whole life.&lt;/span&gt; I don't know if they're trying to kill themselves or they're trying something new that they didn't tried 50 years ago or they're just so in love that they really want to do it every night, over and over again. Yeah, love as in L-O-V-E. C'mon kids, you really think lust is their nightly fuel to make love?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Another lesson learned courtesy of our sweet, old yet kinky couple who really loves to... spend their time pumpin and saying something weird like:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Walang kupas, ganoon pa rin kahigpit."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And I don't want to see a couple making love again, ever again. Its like something you wouldn't want to see your whole life and if you happens to witness one, trust me, you'd want to kill yourself and rise again to kill yourself all over again. Yes, couple, senior citizen couples. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;---&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Just a while ago I talked to the King of the Lounge section in RB and guess what, I discovered something. His account was, you know, hacked? Can you even call that hacked? The culprit changed his password and e-mail and poor Sir Jazalie, we end up sharing my own account. There's more, he knows who did that but he refused to tell me who, maybe he's afraid that I might open his account issues at RB like Jeremy did last time. Most of the time, some retards accused me of being him. Well, thanks to them, at least, once in my life I was compared to that great retard. And I was wondering about that prick who's starting something, his post was somewhat hostile and provocative. What seems to be his problem? Funny, we saw him last last Saturday and Zack almost lunged at him and beat the crap out of the loco, thanks to Louise and Jerry we managed to calm Zack down. Sir Jazalie just stood there, watched the loco with a wide grin in his face before swiping his Timezone card at the swipe machine or whatever you call that. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Then he mumbled something like&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"My territory, my friends and my place."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;After that he beat the crap out of his opponent.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Sometimes, I can't keep up with his eccentric thinking.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;FYI: When Sir Jazalie is with a girl, he'll make sure he would look like a bozo, noob and an ignorant player of Tekken but when he's with the guys, he's a godlike. Don't know what he's up to but he sure is weird. Or he really likes to show off with the guys instead of the girls... Fishy... Me thinks he's a gay.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(Joke~!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Oh and i forgot, I think Jeremy and Sir Jazalie's female cousin were somehow linked to each other, romantically? I don't know but she [Jazalie's cousin] said that he uses Jeremy's account sometimes and pestered everyone. That explains why those accounts had the same I.A.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;-Edited and taken from Alexis' journal with his approval&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(I read his journal and wrote it by my own style and words, for legal reasons)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;---&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;A Tribute To Someone Who Knows Us Better Than Ourselves&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Either you pass or you fail. My test is not only for my own benefits, just open your eyes and you will learn something new about yourself. Don't trust me, I am just testing you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;-Sir Roland Japone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;He reminds me of Jigsaw and V from V for Vendetta. Whoever he is imitating, don't care anymore. He's a good man who could teach you a lot with his own little way, I passed his tests and I learned something new about myself. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What is it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;That is I am just like him. Who wants someone who he can trust his life to but because of our own ambiguous reasons, we just can't trust others easily.&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;And there's more.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I AM HIM&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;HE IS ME&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;HE IS YOU&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;HE IS EVERYONE&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;P.S.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;This is just a test.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;P.P.S.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Hindi mo na malaman kung ano paniniwalaan mo ano? Hak~!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3223737905436015741-889701020602577203?l=kishukusou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/feeds/889701020602577203/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3223737905436015741&amp;postID=889701020602577203' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/889701020602577203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/889701020602577203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/2007/02/indecent-blog-entry.html' title='Indecent Blog Entry'/><author><name>Kishuku Sou</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09918586315656832863</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3223737905436015741.post-3148576189757765666</id><published>2007-02-18T21:39:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-02-18T22:51:29.784+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mahirap Magpalaki ng Magulang.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“Ang swerte ng girl friend ko sa magulang ko, hindi lang sa akin, alaga rin sa nanay ko hindi lang sa akin”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;-Kevin Sosa&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Narinig ko ‘yan sa sa bestfriend kong si Kevin last time na nag-usap kami, napag-usapan namin ang mga ideya namin tungkol sa mga magulang at sa pagiging magulang.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bakit nga ba magulang ang tawag sa mga magulang?&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ano ba definition ng magulang? Tuso? Mapang-lamang? Mandaraya?&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pero kahit ano pa man ‘yong definition niyang negative, sumasakto rin naman din talaga ‘yan sa ibang magulang.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Ok, hindi ako nagsusulat ng ganito dahil sa pagiging bitter ko, sinusulat ko lang kung ano ang nakikita ko at naoobserbahan. Kung iniisip niyong sa pagkabitter na naman lang ‘to galing, wag mo na lang basahin, pero sa mga taong nagbabasa nitong mga walang kakwenta-kwenta kong ginagawa, salamat.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Umpisahan natin sa usapan tungkol sa iba’t ibang uri ng magulang.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Maraming magulang ngayon ang hindi maganda ang pakikitungo sa kanilang mga anak, may mga magulang naman na sobrang hihigpit, may sobra kung makapang-spoil ng bata, meroon namang ok lang, magulang na mahilig na mag-bring up ng mga issues tungkol sa mga anak nila, may mga ma-iingay, iresponsable, walang silbi, at may mga magulang naman na sobrang babait, mababait na hindi nagkukulang sa pagpapa-alala sa kanilang mga anak. At ganoon ang mga magulang ni kevin. Ganoon din ang magulang ko.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May nakalimutan ako, ‘yong mga magulang na mahilig maki-alam sa buhay ng kanilang mga anak.  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Hindi na bago sa pandinig at sa paningin natin ang mga ganiyang klase ng magulang pero mas madalas ko atang ma-encounter ngayon ang mga magulang na makikitid ang pag-intindi. Hindi ko alam kung bakit sila umaakto ng ganoon o kung saan naman nila nakuha ‘yong ganoong trip.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Sa totoo lang hindi ko alam kung paano uumpisahan ‘to dahil sa sobrang sabog sabog ang mga ideyang umuultaw sa aking utak, nag-uumapaw at kalat-kalat. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Sobrang higpit at mahilig maki-alam sa buhay ng anak nila ng sobra sobra, halimbawa na lang sa love life… &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Ok naiintindihan ko sila na gusto lang nila ang lahat ng makakabuti sa akin at natatakot lang sila na baka may mga gawa tayon pagsisihan natin sa hinaharap dahil sa mga bata pa lang tayo. Hmmmmm….&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Sobrang higpit…&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Ay eto based from a personal experiences ‘to…hehe..&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Marami-rami rin akong kilalang sobrang hihigpit kesyo BAWAL MAG BOYFRIEND~! ‘Yan natural ‘yan sa mga magulang ng mga girls diyan sa paligid–ligid. Sa sobrang higpit ng mga magulang na ‘yon e napipilitan maglihim ng bata sa magulang. Hindi ba napapansin niyo? Kapag lalong pinipigilan lalo namang nagkakanda loko loko ang nangyayari sa bata? Like for example, may girl na bawal talaga as in na magka boyfriend dapat daw tapos na muna and actually ok lang ‘yong reasoning ng magulang sa umpisa pero nang maglaon, hindi na pala maganda. So bawal nga magboyfriend si girl, e meroon siyang napupusuan na talagang mahal niya, so wala siyang magagawa kungdi ilihim ang tungkol kay lalake at sa relation nila at sa magiging relation nila dahil takot siya sa magulang niyang sobra kung makahigpit. Then ang nangyari, nakakapag-lihim tuloy si girl kay mama niya. Then alam niyo na kung anong nangyayaring susunod dahil sa sobrang kahigpitan? Napapariwara lalo. Oo, marami akong classmate na ganiyan dati, ngayon masasalubong ko may dala dala ng baby… Bakit? Dahil sa sobrang paghihigpit ng magulang lalong napasama. Nakuha niyo ba ako? Hindi ko lang alam kung paano ipapaliwanag ng maayos pero sa palagay ko naman ay naiintindihan niyo.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Hindi ba mas maganda kung hindi masiyadong maghihigpit para naman hindi napipilitang maglihim ang mga bata sa mga magulang nila? Kasi tingnan niyo? Kesa naman sa nag-iisip ang mga magulang sa kung nasaan na ang anak nila, kung sino ang kasama at kung ano na ang ginagawa at wala sa bahay ay mas maganda na ‘yong alam ng magulang kung sino ‘yong kasama ng anak nila hindi ba? Kaso paano nga makakapagsabi ang mga bata kung natatakot sa kanilang mga magulang na sobra kung makapang-higpit?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Kasi palaging may linyang nag sesepara sa ating mga anak sa ating mga magulang at minsan kapag minamalas malas ang bata. Ang idealism pa ng magulang nila ay:&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“Anak lang kita ha, magulang mo ako.”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Ok ‘wag na muna nating dalhin dito ‘yong religion ok? Religion tends to complicate everything it touches so quiet muna tungkol doon.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Bottom Line:&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Ang anak na babaeng pinagbabawalang magka-boyfriend at hinihigpitan ay yon pa ang kadalasang nakakarami ng boyfriends. Amen? AMEN~!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Sa mga tinamaan pasensya na.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Wala na akong maisulat, pinipili ko ang mga tamang salita para isalpak dito sa blank page ng Microsoft Word, siguro nga talaga mas ok pa ako sa pagsasalita kesa sa pagsusulat. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Ngayon ko lang naitanong sa sarili ko, ano kaya ako kung tatay na ako? Maghihigpit ba sa mga anak ng sobra? O magiging taga-spoil? O kaya naman e katulad ng mga magulang ni Kevin. Well, saludo ako sa magulang ni kevs and siyempre sa nanay ko. Bakit? Mero’n kasi kami ni Kevin na complete freedom sa kahit anong gagawin namin basta ba maging responsible kami sa kahihinatnan ng aming mga pinag-gagawa. Siguro iisipin niyong pwede sa amin ‘yon kasi lalake kami at iba ang pakikitungo nila sa babae at sa lalake. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Ewan ko lang din pero may nakikita pa akong magandang example ng magulang na katulad ng parents ni kevs, sino ‘yon? A female friend, a close friend. Kung nababasa mo man ‘to, oo, ikaw ‘yon. Mahal na mahal ko rin ang mama at papa mo dahil doon. Hehe. Yan, babae ang kaibigang kong ‘yon at hindi mahigpit sa kaniya ang mga magulang niya pero hindi sila nagkukulang sa pagbibigay ng payo at paalala.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Boyfriends and barkada? Hmmm hindi siya pinakiki-alaman ng magulang niya, siguro ngayon nagtataka na kayo kung gaano ba kabait ang babaeng tinutukoy ko? Mabait siya talaga, may kapilyahan pero masasabi kong responsible sa lahat ng mga ginagawa niya. Hindi sa pabaya ang magulang niya pero naroon lang ‘yong word na kailangan para magkaroon ka ng magandang relationship sa mga magulang mo.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“Trust”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Yes, nagtitiwala sila mama at papa (naki-mama at papa na ako) sa kaniya at para suklian ang tiwalang ‘yon ay ginagawa niya ang lahat ng mga gusto niyang gawin ng may buong responsibilidad. Hindi rin siya gumagawa ng kahit anong ikapapahamak niya at makakapanakit sa mga magulang niya.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Hay…&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Kung lahat lang sana ng magulang ay ganoon ngayon, masaya na ang buhay natin lahat hindi ba? Siguro nga ngayon kung nakakabasa na nitong magulang ay bubulong ng&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“Hindi mo kami maiintindihan hanggang maging magulang ka na rin mismo”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Hindi rin pwedeng ibato sa akin ‘yan? Bakit? Simple, ako na ang tumayong ama sa bunso kong kapatid magmula ng mamatay ang aking papa dahil sa sakit. Yes, my dear readers, ako ang tumatayong ama ngayon sa kapatid ko at masasabi kong hindi ako nagkukulang sa pag-papaalala sa kaniya. Sa katunayan nga ay hindi nga basta kapatid ang turing ko sa kaniya, anak na ang turing ko sa kaniya. Praning lang ba o ano e bahala na kayo pero kailangang kong tumayong ama sa kaniya hanggang sa dumating ang araw na iiwan ko na siya.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Ano ba ang gusto kong sabihin dito?&lt;/p&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Hindi ko rin alam basta ang alam ko iniisip ko na ngayon kung anong klaseng tatay ako sa mga anak ko balang araw. Masiyado bang maaga kung mag-isip? Hindi naman, marami lang talaga sa aking nakakapagsabi na I’m more than a friend to them, more than a big brother and everything, more like of a father. Ilang beses ko na bang narinig ‘yan? Hindi ko na rin mabilang dahil maski ang babaeng minahal ko ay tinawag din akong daddy dahil parang tatay daw ako sa kaniya. Alam niyo na kung sino ‘yon.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Gusto ko, 10 years from now kung may isang magkakamaling mahalin ako uli na wala nang bawian at siya ang aking napangasawa, gusto ko sana na magkaroon ako, kami ng maayos na pakikitungo sa aming mga anak. Ayaw kong kasing maging magulang na walang ginawa kungdi manghigpit sa aking mga anak, gusto ko sanang maging tatay sa aking mga anak na parang isang matalik na kaibigang matatakbuhan sa oras na kailangan. Kunti na lang ang mga mag-anak na gano’n, sobrang close and I’m proud to tell everyone na close ako kay mama ko at kung buhay nga si papa, baka kasama ko pa siya minsan sa time zone at naglalaro ng tekken. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt;Guidelines sa pagiging mabuting magulang?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Wala actually.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Pero may idea na ako. Kasi kung paano tayo palakihin ng mga magulang natin palaging may mabuti at hindi kabutihang parte ng pagpapalaki sa atin Kung meroon man, tanggalin lang natin 'yong mga bagay na hindi natin gusto at itira lang natin 'yong mabuti sa pagpapalaki sa atin. Pagna-filter na natin 'yong magaganda e saka natin i-apply 'yon sa mga magiging anak natin in the future. Ayaw niyo rin naman sigurong maranasan sa inyo ng mga anak niyo 'yong hindi kagandahang nararanasan niyo sa mga magulang niyo hindi ba?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Kung masama man ang pakikitungo ng magulang mo sa'yo ngayon wag kang magagalit sa kanila. Bakit? Dahil kahit anong gawin mo, magulang mo pa rin sila, kahit hindi pa sila ang pinakamabait na magulang kailangan pa rin nila ang respeto at pag-intindi mo. Isipin mo na lang na hindi tayo makakapamili ng magulang, tsaka magpasalamat tayo sa kanila dahil kung wala sila, wala rin tayo, kahit pa pareho silang may sungay, carry on lang. Just try your best to show them na walang naidudulot ng mabuti 'yong mga bad traits nila bilang magulang. Siguro set exmaples na lang. Hindi ba?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Parental Insanity is hereditary because you acquire it from your child."&lt;br /&gt;-Kuya Christian Flores&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3223737905436015741-3148576189757765666?l=kishukusou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/feeds/3148576189757765666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3223737905436015741&amp;postID=3148576189757765666' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/3148576189757765666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/3148576189757765666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/2007/02/mahirap-magpalaki-ng-magulang.html' title='Mahirap Magpalaki ng Magulang.'/><author><name>Kishuku Sou</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09918586315656832863</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3223737905436015741.post-7413026554928623204</id><published>2007-02-17T01:13:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-02-17T01:46:25.827+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Magsulat.</title><content type='html'>Paano ko uumpisahan?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ayon, pagsusulat?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marunong ka bang magsulat?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Natural isasagot mo oo pero ang itinatanong ko ay kung marunong kang magsulat. Gumawa ng kanta, ng tula at higit sa lahat magsinungaling. I mean, to write a fiction stories. Alam ko naman na kadalasan nagsusulat ang karamihan ngayon sa larangan ng kathang isip, maraming naglalaro doon dahil madaling gumalaw sa mundong ikaw mismo ang gumawa. Pero kapag nagsulat ka na ng non-fiction, dito na nag-uumpisa totoong saya, ligaya at kabulastugan sa larangan ng pagsusulat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;Ilang beses na rin akong sumubuk na magsulat ng isang kwento na pwede kong maipost dito sa Fanfare pero sa paulit-ulit na tangka ko ay wala pa rin akong naipopost. Hindi ko alam kung bakit pero sa oras na maisip ko ang mga kritiko na kakatay sa mga sinulat ko ay sumasakit ang tiyan ko. Masakit na parang hinahatak ang bituka ko pero hindi naman ‘yong feeling na kailangan mong pumunta ng CR.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Paano ako nag-umpisang magsulat at gumawa ng mga kwentong pagtatawanan lang naman ng mga taong hanap ay kunting katatawanan. Hindi ko na maalala, pero ang pinakanatatandaan ko ay nag-umpisa akong magsulat 3 years ago. Oo, tama 3 years ago noong cute pa ako at maraming nagkakagusto sa akin. Nag-umpisa akong magsulat ng mga kanta at tula, pero kadalasan tula lang kasi naman ‘yong mga kantang ginagawa ko ay hindi ko nagagawan ng tono so asa na lang ako sa pag-gawa ng kanta.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Magmula sa tula ay na-develop ang writing skills ko [if you call it a skill] para gumawa ng mga short stories. Mga maiikling kwento na hindi masakit sa mata kapag binasa, ‘yon nga lang, hindi lalampas sa sampung linya kaya maraming nairita at marami rin namang natuwa. Natuwa dahil walang matinong bata sa edad ko noon ang gagawa ng gano’ng kaikling kwento na mag-uumpisa na walang kakwenta kwentang sentence at magtatapos lang sa dot dot dot. Gusto niyo ng sample? Kung ako sa inyo ‘wag na lang, kasi no’ng huli akong magbigay ng sample ay hindi na ako iginalang ng mga taong nakabasa. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;So nasaan na ba ako? Masiyado akong nag-eenjoy kapag hindi ako nagsusulat pero nasasabi ko ang laman ng utak ko. [Wow, may laman pala ang utak ko!] O ayon, so after na magdevelop [kung development nga ba ‘yon] ng writing chuva ko e sinubukan ko ring magsulat ng medyo matino-tino. Kung dati ay puro love story lang ang sinusulat ko na kapag nabasa na ng mga mambabasa ay nagiging katatawanan, no’ng mga sandaling ‘yon ay sinubukan ko namang magsulat ng medyo seryosong tema. Sinubukan kong gumawa ng drama, as in drama na mararamdaman mo kung ano ‘yong nararamdaman ng mga bida sa kwento at makaka-relate ka sa mga hinanakit nila sa mundo na tipong kapag magpapakamatay na sila sa kwento ay natataranta ka. Pero lahat ng pagbabalak na ‘yon ay hanggang balak na lang, umpisang umpisa pa lang sa unang eksena ay katatawanan na agad ang nabuo ng hindi ko namamalayan. Imagine, bago ko isulat ang mga ‘yon nag-emote pa ako as in lumuluha ako sa kaka-alala ng mga sad moments ng buhay ko tulad nang mamatay ang dagang costa ko dahil natapakan ko, pangalawa ay no’ng makakuha ako ng panty sa “gift surprise” na pakana ng adviser ko no’ng grade six ako at panghuli ay noong magkahiwalay kami ni chie no’ng graduation no’ng grade six na ang tanging pabaon niya lang sa akin ay isang sampal at isang ngite. So dahil nga sa mga pag-eemote kong ‘yon nakakuha ako ng emotion na pwede kong isalpak sa papel na hawak hawak ko. Akala ko ay magiging ok na ang lahat dahil sa emotion na mero’n ako ng oras na isulat ko ‘yon, pero mali ako. Unang nakabasa no’ng story na ‘yon na pinamagatan ko pang “Emotions” ay ang teacher ko no’n sa kabulastugan na si Loire.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Loire: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Ako: Bakit ka natawa?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Loire: Tang ina ka! Akala ko naman e seryosong drama ‘to e parang gag show ‘to ah?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Ako: Gano’n ba? Ikaw naman, parang hinde mo ako kilala? Hahahahahahaha! Comedy ‘yan talaga, nakakatawa no?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Loire: Oo pare, iba ka! You’re the man! Hahahahahaha!!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Mangiyak ngiyak siya sa katatawa dahil sa mga sinulat kong ‘yon, naki-ride on na lang ako sa tawa niya pero ang totoo e gusto ko na siyang sakalin, ilagay sa sako, itali sa puno at hatawin ng baseball bat ng paulit ulit.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Kaya magmula no’n ay sinubukan kong wag nang magsulat dahil wala naman nakaka appreciate, magmula ng tawanan niya ang mga sinulat kong ‘yon ay nalungkot ako ng husto kaya naman napansin ako ni Juliet na schoolmate ko. Ipinabasa ko sa kaniya at hindi ako nagkamali ng inaasahan, gulong siya sa katatawa sa “emotions” ko na intended para magpaiyak dahil sa lungkot hinde sa katatawan. Dahil do’n ay nalungkot ako ng husto at kinuha kay Juliet ang kopya at nagtungo sa sulok ng tambayan ko sa tabi ng Xerox center. Complete with theme song pa ang pag eemote ko noon, pinatugtog ko pa ‘yong four seasons of loneliness by Boyz II Men habang ako ay naka-upo sa sulok ng bench, yakap yakap ang tuhod na parang batang nawawala sa mall at pinagmamasdan ang kopya ng “emotions” ko na nakapatong sa table. Isa lang narealize ko no’ng mga oras na ‘yon, na hinde bagay ‘yong pinatugtg kong kanta nang nag-eemote ako, dapat pala End of the Road para medyo ok naman.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;A year later ay napasama ako sa isang team na kinabibilangan ng mga pinakamagagaling na estudyante sa buong campus, hindi ko nga alam kung ano bang naisipan ng sira ulo naming Principal at kinuha ako. Galit pa rin siguro ‘yong principal namin sa akin hanggang nang mga oras na ‘yon, hindi ko alam kung bakit ba napakalaking bagay sa kaniya nang mabuhusan ko siya ng samalamig no’ng nag-enroll ako. Malay ko bang siya na pala ‘yong principal namin? Pahara-hara kasi sa daan e. At dahil nagsasanga-sanga na ang mga kwento ko ay itutuloy ko na nga.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Ayon, napasama ako sa mga “Elites” ng school namin kaya naman feeling ko e isa akong poring sa grupo ng mga Orc Zombies [‘yan, RO related na kahit papaano! Yey!] Kailangan pala naming maghandle ng isang event dahil may darating na mga taga DepEd sa school namin, kaya naman pala kinuha lahat ng magagaling at hindi ako tiwala na magaling din ako. Kinuha lang ako para lang siguro may comic relief ang buong tropa para iwas stress, kahit papaano may na-iisip din naman palang magaling ‘yong principal naming ‘yon. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Dumating na ‘yong araw na nagsipagdatingan ang mga taga DepEd, lahat sila mukhang alien para sa akin at sa umpisa pa lang ay planado na ang galaw ng lahat sa school namin, pwera lang sa akin. Wala akong sasantuhin sa mga gremlins na galing sa DepEd na ‘yan, humanda sa akin ‘yang si Principal, pagsisisihan niyang isinama niya ako sa mga retarded na ‘to. Dumating ‘yong oras nang part ko, hanggang sa mga oras na ‘yon ay walang instruction ang ibinigay sa akin na gagawin at clueless talaga ako kung ano bang gagawin ko. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Pumasok na ako sa stage at nainterview na ako agad ng mga taga DepEd, nagulat ako nang ipakita nila sa akin ang kopya ng “emotions” ko. E paano ba naman ang huling nakabasa ng “emotions” ko ay ‘yong principal namin kaya nagulat ako at hanggang ngayon ay hindi pa binabalik sa akin.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Taga DepEd: So Mr. Lamento, magaling ka pala magsulat ng funny tales?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Ako: Ang totoo po e intended po ‘yan na magpaiyak hindi ko naman po sadyang comedy ang kinalabasan.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Taga DepEd: Hahahaha! May natutunan kaming matatanda kung paano ba mag-isip ang mga batang gaya mo, dahil dito mas mapapagbuti na nang mga teacher niyo ang pakikitungo sa mga estudyanteng tulad mo. Mgaling Hijo, nagustuhan ko ‘to.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Ako: [Hinde makapaniwala] Gano’n po ba, salamat po at nagustuhan niyo pero tumigil na po ako sa pagsusulat.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Taga DepEd: Naku hijo, ang galing ng pagkakagawa mo dito kahit na sobra siyang nakakatawa e nakakagising naman sa tunay na nangyayari sa mga estudyanteng tulad mo. 4 years from now, gawan mo ng mas mabuting version ‘to dahil alam naming may pupuntahan ka sa pagsusulat.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Ako: Naku…salamat po.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Nadismaya ako sa totoo lang, hindi dahil sa sira ang ulo ko kungdi dahil sa expectations kong babalatan ako ng buhay ng mga taga DepEd na ‘yon at ako naman ay gaganti para mapahiya ang school namin. Demonyito talaga ako e, dati pa. Kaya dahil do’n sa mga kind words na narinig ko e na-motivate akong magsulat uli, hindi para sa mga ikakalungkot o ikakatawa ng mga makakabasa kung hindi para sa ikakatuto nila. Wala man ako masiyadong alam, at least may maishe-share ako sa iba na hindi mo pwedeng mapulot ng basta basta sa mga librong intellectual. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Kaya nagsimula ako uli magsulat pagkatapos ng dal’wang taon, at ang taon na ‘yon ay ngayon. Early this year ay nagsulat ako uli, sa palagay ko ay namuti na ang mga mata ng mga Taga DepEd na ‘yon kahihintay sa mga gagawin ko pang “eye opener” Shet naman, eye opener na pala ha? Dati rati can opener lang ang drama ko, mala avril, avrilata.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Dagdag motivation din ang Stainless longganisa ni Mr. Bob Ong para sa akin, pareho kami ng banat at nakuha ko na nga ata sa kaniya ang stilo ng pagsusulat ng ganito ang style? ‘Yon lang ang libro niya na mero’n ako at hindi ko na pinag-aksayahan pa ng pera ang iba niyang libro dahil alam ko naman na may mahihiraman ako. Kaso wala kaya nga heto iipon lang ng pambili para pagpunta ko ng bookstore ay mabibili ko na ang apat niya pang libro at ng hindi na ako sasalampak sa sahig para magbasa ng libro para lang sawayin ng mga sales clerk.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Lalo pa akong na-motivate sa pagbabasa dahil sa RB, bakit? Ewan ko ba kung bakit ba ‘tong mga siraulong writer na ‘to sa fanfic section ng old RB ang nakakuha ng atensyon ko. Naaalala ko mga early this year ‘yon na talagang tambay ako sa Fanfic section ng RB at nahinto lang ang communication ko kina Yomz, Nicole, Dave, Kim ni Mr. Imperfect, Daisuke, Maria, Gabrielle, Aleiza ni Mistress Mitsune, ang mga nilikha nina kuya The Abyssmal Priest at ni Kuya T’wolf nang ma-hack daw ang RB. Pati ‘yong mga fanfic ni grace na bestfriend ko ay binasa ko na rin, kunti lang ata ‘yong mga writers na nakakuha ng atensyon ko [at respeto, pagsamba na rin] noon sa Old RB kaya nga ‘yong ibang magagadang fic ng ibang magagaling na writer ay hinde ko na nabasa, dumagdag pa ‘yong mga ganid na hacker na ‘yon kung nahack nga ang old RB. Hindi ko alam kung bakit pati ragnaboards na nag-uumapaw sa mga retarded ay pinatulan na rin ng mas retarded na hacker?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;So mga May ata nawala ang RB noon o April? Sakto naman na bumalik sa buhay ko si chie na nakapagpadagdag ng motivation ko para magsulat. Dahil naipromise ko sa kaniya ang unang book kong nagawa na Viral ay pinaganda ko talaga ‘yon ng husto na mala Stephen King ang nagsulat. [Joke] &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Tinuloy tuloy ko lang ang pagsusulat ng Viral na ‘yon hanggang sa magulantang na lang ako na kami na ni Chie, yes nagulat pa ako kasi magbestfriends kami at you know… Magbestfriends na naglalambingan, nagkikiss, hug at may malisya. Galing hinde ba? Magbestfriend nga? Perfect~!! Kaso sa sobrang gulo niya kausap ay nakipagbreak na siya sa akin dahil hindi raw siya makaconcentrate sa studies niya, pero sa tingin ko ako ang may problema. Then nalaman kong may ibang dahilan at dahil sa sobrang sakit ay pinunit ko lahat ng mga naisulat ko nang mga kwento, maski ‘yong Viral na ‘yon na tapos na at ireregalo ko sa debut niya sa September kasama ng promise ring ay sinira ko rin. Pati ‘yong mga nakasave sa PC ko na mga kwento pati ‘yong soft copy ng Viral ay binura ko, as in binura ko ‘yong buong folder na naglalaman ng lahat ng ginawa ko. Nasaktan ako ng sobra kaya hindi ko na uli snubukan pang sumulat, huminto ang buong mundo ko nang malaman ko nang mga oras na ‘yon. Dito ako mahina, sa emotion, matigas ako sa kahit ano mangyari pero kapag puso ko na ang nasaktan, wala na. Kaya naman pati lahat ng sinulat ko ay napagdiskitahan kong sirain sa sobrang sama ng loob ko.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Pangatlong dagok na ‘yon sa pagsusulat ko at tila susuko na ako sa pagsusulat, hindi lang ‘yon maski sa buhay ko ayaw ko na. Pero nagising ako isang araw basa ang salwal ko, hindi ako naihi o ano pero malagkit. Dahil doon ginusto ko uling magsulat dahil meron pala akong ballpen sa aking pundilyo na may puting tinta. Kung tinta man ‘yon o glue ewan ko, basta may lumalabas. Kaya heto, sinubukan ko uli pero magmumukha na naman lang ‘tong diary ko kasi bara bara ang banat ko, pinagkaiba lang e ang diary lang ang nakakarinig at nakaka-alam sa nilalaman ng loob ko kapag sa kaniya ako nagsusulat, ngayon ay lahat ng may sira rin ang ulo para basahin ‘tong mga sinulat kong wala naman kakwenta kwentang basahin ay malalaman na kung paano nga ba mag-isip si Dylan. Si Dylan na minsang naging Mascot Mcdonalds at naging head ng isang kompanya. [Sige managinip ka lang, libre ‘yan, mahal ka ng Diyos] &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Walang direksyon ang buhay ko, pati na rin ‘yong thread na ‘ginawa ko sa RB pero susubukan ko ring maglagay ng mga bagay bagay na pwede niyong dalhin hanggang kayo ay nabubuhay. Malay niyo may mapulot kayong kapakipakinabang sa pag-aaksaya ng oras niyo sa pagbabasa ng mga kwentong barbero ko. Dito sa blog ko.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Umpisahan natin sa kung paano ako mag-umpisang mag-sulat ng kwento, so paano ako mag-uumpisa sa pagsusulat? Hindi ko rin alam kung paano uumpisahan ang pag-susulat, hindi rin naman kasi ako binigyan ng talent sa ganiyang larangan. Kumbaga ang manunulat daw, lalo na ng mga fiction ay ang mga dakilang sinungaling. Nang marinig ko ‘yon sa isang gagung kaibigan e naniwala naman ako, so that means na gagu rin ako. Kaya magmula nang araw na ‘yon ay nag focus ako sa mga true to life story na mala-koreanovela ang mga eksena, ‘yon bang may humahabol na lalake sa isang bus na sinasakyan ng babaeng minamahal niya at sumisigaw ng &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“Sanchay! ‘yong wallet ko ibalik mo!” &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Pero nalaman kong mas nagmumukha palang sinungaling ang mga writer na nagsusulat ng mga storyang base sa tunay na pangyayari sa buhay, kaya lahat ng nangyayari sa lovelife ko na nailagay ko sa blog ko ay iniisip ng mga nakakabasa na kathang isip ko lamang. Lalo na silang nagduda ng sabihin kong naging girlfriend ko si Chie na isang classmate namin no’ng grade six at isang malapit na babae sa puso ko magmula pa man noon[nasabi ko na sa taas ‘yan]. Ayaw nilang maniwala kaya sinabihan nila akong &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“Pare, writer ka talaga! Muntik mo na ako mapaniwala! Hahahahaha!”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;After kung makipagbugbugan sa mga kaibigan ko ay umuwi ako sa bahay, kumuha ng ballpen at papel at saka sinubukang magsulat ng fiction. Nakagawa rin ako ng isa, hilaw nga lang, tungkol sa isang lalakeng may nakalarong magandang dalaga sa arcade na eventually ay nagkakilala sila at nagka-anak. Pagkatapos kong isulat ‘yon ay sinubukan kong ilipat sa computer ko ‘yong story, kaya naman kinuha ko ‘yong papel at nagtype sa MS word. Nagulat nga lang ako dahil nabago ‘yong storya, kung dati ay nagkakilala at nagka-anak agad na sa sobrang labo ay hindi mo maintindihan kung drama ba o comedy o kaya naman e porno kasi nagka-anak agad, ngayon naman ay may apo na sila. Ang ingay talaga ng utak ko sa t’wing haharap ako sa computer ko, tanggap ko na ‘yong katotohanang kung anong ikinatahimik ko ay ‘yon naman ang ikinabagsik ng hypothalamus ko. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Ngayon ay nakaharap na naman ako sa PC ko, nagtatype at sa ngayon parang new year ang utak ko, sobrang ingay. Para bang concert ng Pussy Cat Dolls sa sobrang ingay, hindi ako makatulog kaya heto type ng type hanggang sa makatulog ako. Masiyado nang malayo ang mga isinusulat ko kaya balik tayo? Saan niyo gustong bumalik?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;A. Chie&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;B. Mga nasulat mong hango sa tunay na buhay&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;C. Magpakilala ka kaya muna?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;D. Ang RB life mo at paano mo nakikita ang RB ngayon?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;E. Sinu-sino ba nalink sa’yo dito sa RB?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;F. Gusto mo raw maging Moderator?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportEmptyParas]--&gt; &lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Hindi ko na pag-aaksayahin pa ang mga sagot niyo dahil alam ko naman na walang magbabasa ng blog ko. So, goodnight na lang at sana, bukas, may girlfriend na ako. ULI.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3223737905436015741-7413026554928623204?l=kishukusou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/feeds/7413026554928623204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3223737905436015741&amp;postID=7413026554928623204' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/7413026554928623204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3223737905436015741/posts/default/7413026554928623204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kishukusou.blogspot.com/2007/02/magsulat.html' title='Magsulat.'/><author><name>Kishuku Sou</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09918586315656832863</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
