>the passion

>i hate management. my management grad buds, sorry, but i just hate the damn course.

tuesdays, i only have two classes: financial accounting and strategy and policy management. today, i had an exam on both.

accounting was okay. i only spent thirty minutes finishing a hundred-item test. no, i’m not bragging. i’ve said this so many times: my brain only works for thirty minutes, anything beyond that is just plain blah. anyway, the exam wasn’t really hard, just worked on the difference between the periodic and perpetual system. nothing big.

then, my management class. here’s my argument: nothing is definite in management. everything is in contingent. everything is in a case to case basis. nothing is quantifiable. i don’t like that. i would rather do hours and hours of labor doing paperworks from journalizing the entry all the way to financial statements preparation than study a case.

anyway, the exam has only seven questions – all essay questions! no kiddin’, my pen ran out of ink. i had seven pages with just one question on each page. and it’s not like i can be just direct to the point, i have to goddam elaborate. by the time i finished the exam, my fingers were numb. so was my ass.

i hate management. i hate it with a passion.


>was checking my friend markie’s blog, and was pretty alarmed. it was the most stupid thing i’ve ever seen. sorry, markiepot, pero it’s just wrong to say something like that. anyway, kiko showed some concern (very rare) and later got an e-mail from him.

after reading the e-mail and replying and all, i realized that people sometimes tend to ask for my advice. not really ask, maybe hint that they want my advice.

i am never good in giving advices. there should be a law against asking for my advice.

i never give sound advices! if everyone asks for an advice, we are all screwed. but what i lack in giving advices, i make up for giving honest opinions. maybe my friends are just looking for a different perspective or maybe even a slap on the face (not literally), to hear from somebody else what’s inside their heads.

just a piece of advice (hahahaha): if i tell you what you should do, take it as my opinion, not an advice.


>hungry young poets

huwag na lang kaya

hari ng katorpehan

huwag, h’wag na lang kaya

di ka ba nagsasawa sa liwanag ng buwan

namamatay ang mga rosas sa tabi

di ka pa bumibili

nauubos na ang oras sa kahihintay

pero ni sulat ni tawag wala

bakit mo pa kailangan ng tulay

kahit ulap nagsasabi tayo bagay

bakit o pa kailangang magtanong

kung alam mo na, alam mo na

bilisan mo na ngayon

kasi tumatakbo ang tren

bilisan mo na ngayon

iiwanan ka, iiwanan ka

ayoko ng torpe pero gusto kita

>art history

>every time that i have my art history class, i almost always send rey a text message. in this class, full of art major students, we always see paintings and sculptures of naked women, and everybody is so… so… so asexual about it! no malice at all. trying to keep my standards of immorality, i need to talk to somebody who is almost as (im)morally skewed as i am. hence, rey comes into the picture.

today was different though, the paintings we looked at were meant to have sexual suggestiveness. you can ask rey, i didn’t text him today in class.

we were discussing rococo art in the 18th century when louis xiv died (finally!) and ended his long reign. rococo art is very baroque if you think about it, only more delicate and ornate. it’s like comparing kris aquino and john lapus – both are loud-mouthed, but john is more colorful and he exaggerates more.

one of the paintings we talked about was of jean-antoine wattaue, pilgrimage to the island of cythera. in the painting, the aristocrats of france are having this “picnic” in the island of venus (aphrodite). i think they are delusional. it’s their metaphoric “escape” from france, since france is in shambles during the 18th century pre-french revolution. nothing too suggestive in here, except maybe to the one guy leaning over to this girl saying something like, “hey, let’s meet later when your husband is busy with his affairs.”

my favorite when it comes to subtle naughtiness has to be fragonard! he is sooooo funny. he has this painting called the swing, but others call it the happy accidents in the swing and for a reason! if you look closely at the girl in the picture, she is throwing off her shoe, letting this guy take a peek of what’s under her dress! hahaha! what an invitation! it’s like she’s saying, “hey there! stick around, my shoes are not the only ones coming off!”

then came jean-baptiste grueze. he, on the other hand, made paintings for the middle class people. the irony here is he used rococo in his style of painting which is mainly for the rich guys, and yet he did the painting for the masses. the broken jug has a very emotional intensity i could not explain. this twelve-thirteen year-old girl with a broken pitcher, clutching flowers in her dress has so much meaning. see, flowers usually mean love (duh!) and the symbolism of a broken jug is losing one’s virginity. and the look on her face! like someone got into her pants – or in this case, dress – with a promise of love but after that, he left her. now ain’t that sad?

>bus ride

>every bus ride i take is different. today is the same.

my accounting class was full of distractions. first, my teacher decided to wear a pin-striped black suit over light blue shirt and a red tie, and gray pants with immaculately white sneakers. i’m not sure what the color of his socks are, but i’m hoping they are not black. after class, went home to look for my old colorado state id to renew it. on my way to the dmv, it was pretty ok. but on the way back, it was pretty weird.

it was like god let loose all the freaks and made sure all of them track me down. maybe they’re looking for a leader. anyway, this old chinese looking guy sat next to me. more than twenty vacant seats, and he chose the one next to me. then a lady came in with fish in her bag. reminds me how lipa’s palengke smells like. and i swear to god, the other guy in the bus was either hammered or loaded.

i’m not taking the bus anymore. unless i have to.

>paper heart

>all american rejects

please just don’t play with me

my paper heart will bleed
this wait for destiny won’t do
be with me please i beseech you
simple things, that make you run a-way
catch you if i can

tears fall, down your face
the taste, is something new
something that i know
moving on is, easiest when i am around you.

so bottle up old love,
and throw it out to sea,
watch it away as you cry
now a year has past
the seasons go

please just don’t play with me
my paper heart will bleed
this wait for destiny won’t do
be with me please i beseach you
simple things, that make you run a-way
catch you if i can

waiting, day to day it goes through
my lips, are sealed for her
my tongue is,
tied to, a dream of being with you
to settle for less, is not what i prefer

summer time, the nights are so long
the leaves fall down, and so do i into
the arms of a friend
winter nights
my bedside is cold, for i am gone
and spring blossoms you to me

>things are looking up

>starting my birthday, everything seems to be looking up.

first, after six months of working in the motel, i actually thought of looking for another job since i don’t think anyone notices my hard work. then eva, my manager, came down the office and stayed with me til midnight just to tell me how good i am doing – even better than the night auditor who’s been working there for more than two years!

then, looking at my sorry checkbook, i was struggling about paying bills and having a little extra cash for my brother’s birthday. when i opened the mailbox, i received a letter from the hispanic scholarship fund – with a check in it!

lastly, the big news, my dad just received his papers about his disability rating from the veterans affairs. because of that rating, he won’t have to work no more to earn some dough. not that he’s lazy, he’s anything but that, but after twenty five years of service to the navy, it is already taking its toll on his health. he totally deserves that hundred percent rating.