Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Saw a book yesterday.

Saw Doris Lessing's book. Doris Lessing, Nobel Prize for Literature winner. Buy me it. Title: The Cleft.

*Albert to Albert. Or to anyone of you reading this, from Albert.

Thursday, December 17, 2009

Move on...

...and try to forget.

Why don't you, Albert?


Sunday, December 13, 2009

Studying with my coffee.

my mind has died.

but the brain parenchyma is trying to live.

for instance, studying for thera ex. hmm. the concepts are to blame. and there's heavy memorization for the normal student that i am. but only trying to be noble and average, i am studying. the best part of the ordeal is the part where i died and left my head guts smeared onto the notes i made. the brain's there, but something is missing.

of course, i was trying to put my heart to it too, but cardiac muscle is resilient. but i managed anyway, and there they were, heart and brain, onto the studying part. but there is no more than words that come to me. the notes and the manual bring only words and there isnt much sense going on in my head. only, merely semantics i was studying. might as well memorize all words and recite it to myself whilst taking the exam and make sense of all of it there.

i have had my morning coffee, and too much i've taken. and now im talking about coffee like it was some drug. but for this morning, it really was. the two mugs of coffee really were, i mean. two mugs of brewed coffee. as previously described with much flamboyance in the language, "liquid velvet" i poured/gulped into my throat. and now my feet and hands are numb and tingling. and i was lethargic the whole day til about 6pm. havent done any reading properly. and the situation concerning how i am not able to comprehend my notes, coffee is to blame. those maybe six or seven cups of coffee. but i could have another one.

sh*t i was so lethargic i had to blast myself. blast my ears, i mean, with the loudest beats [i really mean just beats, not much vocals, because the The Prodigy is just a bunch of machine wielding guys, i think.] i have in my phone. and then i had to calm myself down with Amy winehouse and daniel merriweather. then i went down to watch tv. meh. lame.

anyway. coffee is something i love but makes me weak. =(


Monday, December 7, 2009

let me talk about the saturday...was it saturday?

was it saturday?

i remember- yes it was.

now the toastmasters, a public speaking org, was invited to the crs for some sort of a visit/training/torturous and sweat-busting act for us students to [maybe] enjoy. but there were very few who came, which was only a little bit sad, and i'l tell later why it was turned out to be good [i can hear you guessing, so i guess i'll have to spill: few attendees = few audience].

primary purpose for their visit, half-guessing it was just a coincidence, was so the MMRS [mr and ms rehab sci] candidates would get some bit of baptism of fire on how to get their way on stage and put their ideas across a crowd, a seated row of people of approximately 12 then, and get the nerves out of their systems, along with us very fortunate to have been there, but unfortunate to have been self-diagnosed with stage-fright, especially myself.

speaking in public has always been a plague of unmerciful proportions for me, and the warpath isnt about to get conquered: i was sputtering with more awkward "ah"s than usual, and the silences are mile-long gaps apart, threatening to deduce my then-mumbo jumbo to some silent fizzing-pop, then i'd be called to go back to my seat. i had feared the worst- than no one within the 12 people plus the toastmaster people themselves would make sense of my weirder than morse code noise-making. it was the most disastrous that couldve happened. whew, good thing it didnt. but still, it was worse. joann counted at least 50 ah's from my two minute or so, albeit gap-filled, speech-like mumbling about what do i prefer between reading a book or watching its cinema version instead. of course i would always choose the book over the movie. or any movie for that matter. but i said that sometimes, or most times, i am pressed for time, and it'd be alright to watch the movie. example i put forward was the harry potter movie. the books not really good. but the movie was dark and satisfying. i cared nothing about the movie not following much of the book. if it were the crime and punishment, the dostoevsky book, movie that shows, i wouldnt see it. not yet, i have to finish the book first. or if it were inglourious basterds, i wouldnt watch it yet on [fake] dvd. tarantino's magic would be spoiled on a fake dvd.

anyway. back to sweating tub-fulls due to extemporaneous speaking, the recap.

well, the good thing of it all was the learning. of course, one cannot simply deny learning from something. its a form of protective reflex [and like the ones we take up in pediatrics, this reflex is key to surviving life].

corny but true [ass as myself, i like ruining reflective moments].

traumatic but enlightening it all was, and really funny. i had hearty laughs.

it opened up a long lost piece of angst in me that day, to the question,"albert, what would you be doing 10 years from now?"
well, i said what i'd always tell anyone wanting to hear it: i have yet to find out. after the graduation, and probably my masters degree, then the unfortunate job abroad, there's the void. it brought open the annals of 'what couldve been had i not chosen pt over some creative writing degree'. and it backfired to my father the next day on the phone. it mustve hurt. i was sorry, of course, but i couldnt help but being honest.

anyway. anyway. anyway.
there is too much heart in here.

bye-bye.
anyway, weeds, the show is terribly interesting. 'terribly' because it is getting me more and more into the mari juana inside business, run by a soccer mom in the show. she's pretty though. but it is good. caution to the very liable to be swayed. i am not liable to swaying towards selling drugs.

good night.


Thursday, November 26, 2009

Hmmm mmm. there really is not much to be said.

daybreak is the best time.

best time to blog i mean- when no bull takes place.

its the calm of the daytime, the cold mist, though it doesnt reach this living space where i am in, its comforting. kind of soft. and the chilling effect of the fog reminds me to brew coffee. which i will, in a few moments. not right now.

its a time to think.

thoughts in my head have already been published as status messages on facebook, along my recent achievements in mafia wars, vampire wars, cafe world, fishville, farmville, island paradise, blah blah blah. the kind of frivolous shit we kids nowadays get into, and thus avoid the actual sun, and the actual farm crops, and the waiting of tables in restaurants.

i sometimes wish for ghosts to appear.

wait.

there are NO ghosts.
the closest thing ive experienced are clouds of deadly farts and pollution. plus overexposed pictures, which are funny.
so there.

the Ampatuan case really shook. the massacre was abominable. it was an attack to the integrity of the government's assurance of safety. it came as stark, maddening, simple, unhidden, riddled with clues. there could be nothing now that could make the killers pay, as we all know how well crime can be concealed under this government. and only assumptions would try to prove it, and by then everything had been forgotten.

hmm mmm. anyway, i got to get to my study now. cerebral palsy ain't goin' to learn itself by itself.

btw, im selling my extra goniometer for 650php. 15 US Dollars, when converted, costs more.



Tuesday, November 24, 2009

RESMETH! in here i publisheth thee.

here's a frustration-driven blog:

i wend to the EBP poster exhibit, made my paper, but did not yet print it, because my printer had ran out of ink [thank you, full-color photos]. then i missed the chance to do so, because it was late, then rejected ultimately.

after the set of criteria i made for a selection among all the papers, which took all day.

but im okay now. no one is to blame, apparently.

should i blame M'Che? i wouldnt dare. seriously, i think it'd be just bad. stark bad.
and i cant blame me any more than how much i am killing myself over it.

so i blame the inkless printer, and the stores that arent 24/7 open, and those that are open 24/7 but dont sell ink cartridges[like 7-11, mini-stop, and McDonald's].

but-of-course, blame me, why dont you, albert?

so here is the paper. its kind of lame, but it's worth points, and it deserves to be published somehow [as in this blog].

because there is nothing more that makes my heart sadder than unpublished, unrealized effort. [more than heartbreaks]


yes. it is kind of weird that the paper is in prose, not enumerated; that it obviously was written with TLC. but it was because i cared for the paper itself. i made time for it.

so there. at least none of the other papers were published on blogs. haha. so in a way, it's a win. well, somehow.

***
something is bothering me: Sharon cuneta's commercial about those her not finding it easy to use Broth cubes.

here's a point: If you cant successfully 'melt' those broth cubes in hot water, as you're cooking, then you are an idiot. if you need to crush them against the side of the pot with a ladle, you are an idiot.

it's either the water's fault, or it the laws of physics are bent therein that pot of boiling water, not allowing certain particles to accelerate.

i cook, and those things arent hard to deal with. WTH, they'd disintegrate in a pinch!






Thursday, November 19, 2009

Forecast.

so here's what has been up:

new semester, old faces, old[er] college instructors and professors [joking]; people were getting sentimental but the first sem had to be cut short. i came dangling from the cut; i once loosely grasped for stable ground to get here, the second sem, the frontier to the internship.

the frontier to the internship.

so close i could smell it; the scent dancing with the overwhelming extravagance of real-life cases with real, live, breathing, cursing, people waiting to be restored [and become optimally functional, as pedrosa would always say], and possible heavy drama involving some people and myself. maybe ill get a rare case, like someone with progeria, and dwarfism, halitosis, and a mood problem, all at the same time; or piles of boring, everyday cases, like tendinitis-es, a bunch of bell's, or hands to dip into paraffin; but maybe i wouldnt care right now.

i wouldnt get too excited though, because i am, as of now, not entirely confident of my skills as a student. there'd be a load of reviewing and additional research to spark my interest, to make the dull a bit more like scintillating.

rapport enthusiastically built, but brain memory for treatment erased;
precautions taken all into consideration, but body mechanics fail;
machine operation by the book, but patient comfort overlooked;
moralistic judgment could be correct, but ethics poor;
book-smart but not street-smart;
IQ but not EQ;
smiles, but no after care;
treatment okay, but could be better;

and so on and so forth. there are a million, or jontillion[if there is such a quantity], things one could overlook, and im not the only one. many could be sharing my sentiments, and the odds are almost always against us.

so, just go forth.
because, is there any other way but fight?

**btw, i have an extra goniometer. its big and plastic and looks sturdy. it's about 12 inches in length. cost me around 12-13 USD, plus shipping. ask me for the price, if youre interested.

Saturday, November 14, 2009

Playlist for my head and ailing, aching [put organ made majorly of cardiac muscle and blood]

The Amy Winehouse playlist i have in my phone, and in my head too, narrates how bad i am feeling, and how sick i am of all those that have come, all these at hand, all of which i could just happily let fall onto the floor and watch them shatter to shards, and all that are coming [son-of-a-bitch, stop nooow!].

now i talk [''write'', albert, you idiot] too much; so here, i have my exceptions; and what i am putting in exception from all above are: academics [never again! though i have some beef with ptsem, not due to the fracas i have put myself in last sem, and that'd be bullshit if i had felt pissed-off; but on account of the course in itself{elaboration later}], myself [seriously, why self-blame in these times?] & and my hard-earned friends [hmm hmmm hmmm].

the Amy Winehouse playlist:
1. Tears Dry On Their Own
2. 'Round Midnight
3. You Sent Me Flying
4. Back To Black

i am happy to state here that amy winehouse hasnt yet influenced me enough to smoke weed, or smoke anything. i drink, and that's sure to take place some time next month [december]. anyway.

ptsem literally, to some great [colossal] extent, kills my creative writing skills. nothing can be as gruesome, and as serious, as austere and appropriate as goal-writing. funny, as if anyone would do otherwise. maybe paris hilton would.

eg:
O: VS: BP - kinda normal, RR - totally normal, TEMP - that's hot. but, like, still normal.


OI: wears clothes that are apparently on sale. not hot. not very cute or handsome. wouldnt do him.

STG - 1. To, like, get well soon so he can, like, get out of here.
LTG - 1. Pt should, like, get pec implants and work out so he could be handsome.

**attempt at 'funny'ends here**

so, how else does ptsem aggravate my dying, gutted, 'austere'-ised dream of creative writing? grammar, as i always try to remember, should at all times be correct, or closest to correct. it's a sickness, me and grammar. i know i've done so much wrong with it, and im making amends.


Thursday, November 12, 2009

AMY!

i am in love, or in lust, with amy.

Amy Winehouse.


no, wait, scrap lust.

the vacation that had just ended permitted me to procure [illegally, im telling you now] two of her albums, both deluxe editions [i told you it was illegal], of her.

she's singing sexy in some tracks, not so in some. 'not so' meant she seemed more pounded than that white powder she sniffs. some tracks she may be only screaming, but i dont mind. she's great.

wonderful, at times almost drunken, melody riding some very crookedly themed songs. interesting, how she puts conviction onto songs written alluding to her cheating, her being cheated, third parties, and stuff. particularly green stuff[maybe weed, but i dont really know] .

crooked melodies over crooked british teeth.
im not profiling.
some asians have bad teeth too.
nonsense. anyway.

but she sings really good. she brings sex to her music, or at least, where it's needed.

about her habits, i'll pass. haha. i cant even stand second-hand smoke.

only the figuratively smoking are attractive.

okay, maybe you're a little turned off, and here's a tip: dont think of her face when you listen to her music. except Monkey Man. and Addicted.

Monday, November 9, 2009

As Quoted

''the stabs i started feeling about an hour ago.

from a sliver of memory of that thing that made it all feel cheesy, soft, and most of all, special, came a sudden gush of tearful sobs that only i heard. i made sure of that, careful to keep myself down and under my hugging pillow. i even considered biting on it, good thing i was lucid enough still to think that i wouldn't be liking the after-effect come next day.

my blankets formed a sea of bundled mess at the foot of the bed. brunnstrom didn't get off the bed, and fell to the floor, luckily. i kept that book inside the fold of one of the blankets, safely tucked at the foot of the bed, fortunate to have dodged the kick-some feet of mine and the aforementioned bundled mess.

it was past 1am, and the ordeal left me thirsty. by then, i mused, everyone has gone to bed. but still i had to go downstairs with a pair of dark shades on, just to be sure that no one would at least suspect that i had been sobbing, and that my caution with it wouldn't be in vain. and the excuse would be,"Ma, it's allergy. i'll get my antihistamines." then i'll say goodnight not once taking off the shades.

allergy and heartbreak oftentimes do manifest similarly: tears, sobbing under the breath, runny nose, and irritability; but with heartbreak, something has broken. and it's nothing a dose of claritin could and would ever be able to alleviate.
___________________________________

but i am trying to take a strong dosage of tea, and maybe i'll fart away my sadness. or maybe just to make myself feel healthier, thus feel better, in that sort of way.

needless to say that i am extremely downtrodden, especially depressed, and sad and alone. i am all these in that i probably wouldn't laugh over a good span of weeks. i could laugh, but it'd be less heartily. and i also could cry, and that's really sad, all the more.

i am now trying to channel my grief with the only way i know how.

my writing has really been annoying me. the way i construct sentences, my choice of words, my attempts to try to add humor [which i hope dont go unnoticed, no matter how cryptic], et cetera, make it all seem cheesy to me, and i cannot tolerate anymore where the deterioration comes to. although it'd be terribly bad if i were to lose my journalistic identity over this little bit of bullshit that i am experiencing. im delusional, and i dont listen too often.

it's one thing to be bad at something, and another to try and be somebody else.

now im just sleepy. but brunnstrom and braddom are waiting behind me, and juno's creeping slowly on the torrent downloader. i've taken my tea, and cookies are to bake for tomorrow. my canvas shoes are waiting to be painted, and seams undone repaired.

maybe i am talking only to my blog, addressing the non-human but interactive internet. as far as i am concerned, i do this only for myself, with no intention of letting my thoughts get drenched into a pool of general knowledge. i may be half-dreaming right now, but my mind is clear enough to say and confirm with my self that...i...am...not...wwzzzzzzzzzz''

Thursday, October 29, 2009

Blog of all blogs [of myself, at least]: Notes.

My phone harbors the idiosyncrasies that i hatch while [sometimes] not listening to the lectures [hence the remedials]. i log some of them into my phone, and hope that time will be available [finally]. the notes application is great, and it is good that i dont do scribbles over my notes; besides, my stylus is extinct [not only broke, for i cant find one SE shop that still carries one; therefore it is extinct] and i rest the carcass in my desk, maybe i'll use it for something next time. for now my finger and some random ballpoint pen are sufficient. the cold polished chrome styloid thing is missed truly by my prehension, but what could i do?

So here from the Notes:
Emotional Angina - this is what i plan to call my next heartache, presumably from some heartbreaking, painful failure. Watch out for the Levine's Sign.

Lacoste - Lactose - this i got from misreading the word ''lactose''. and then wondering what the heck ''lacoste'' [the brand] is doing floating in my o'sullivan book. now you know i read o'sullivan. i even refuse calling it only 'sullivan'. like from now on i would call my Ganong, 'William'.

Stimulate my Substantia Gelatinosa - now, i'd put this on a ladies'shirt. not misogynist, though not very conservative, either; imagine all the attention from the laymen, ''oh, i'd stimulate that gelatinous substance of yours, lady!''. medical people would only say,''how painful?'', then get those A-beta fibs firing.



Die, Virgin, DIE!: How sex is overrated, and how virginity really is in the mind only. - what have i got left to say? am i in the wrong country? should i blur this from the eyes of children. but really, wouldn't you say you agree? just a little? even just the virginity bit? I plan to start an article with this title, but only after i've done some reading from Freud.



To try to live is to try to invite as much people to your own funeral. - from this point-of-view, i say it works for me. now, without being too blatant: Who wants to come to mine? of course the RSVP is implied, but I'LL BE COUNTING.

''Hello, maam. Ako po si Albert, at ako po ang magpi-PITY sa inyo today.'' - roughly, how much is too much pity? i neither pity my pretend patients, nor my [future] real-life patients. yes, i know their pain, but only by numbers. no, i shall not drown with you in your own pool of self-pity. im high and dry and here only to treat. TENS, maam?

''I am putting my pen down; i am getting my days of rest;
Here's my taking of effort to bid my last request." - about a month ago, i [half-]vowed to never write again. i am not good; it's true, so why even try and make my effort? there is so much frustration enveloped in this little thought. hay. with this, i had planned to publish a list of my resentments and regrets and how could've everything gone differently, and perhaps, RIGHT. no one's telling, that's for sure, and maybe i could somehow fix this. my point is, i could have gone not into PT but creative writing; i could've have worked harder, read more, spoke better; there is so much that the present cannot give me, but it definitely gives me chances so i can try to make ME right. he he.

200 years old - I too often joke about his with Betty [this i use to refer to my mother]. i tell her that i'd hook her up to so much machinery to keep her living, she'd reach her 200s and beg to just die. of course, there is a dark comedy to it. another joke: I'd position her in her wake so she'd be sitting up like those McDonald statues on benches, and people could take pictures with Betty, with one of her arms on the mourner's shoulder. now admit this is creepy, but hey, all's a joke.

bUllShiT - note the caps. i was on my rebel streak that time. no one got hurt physically, good thing.

''I didnt come here to f--k, i came here to make love''. - one good essay exam topic from high school: Love and Sex. Mind you, those dashes between f and k weren't there in my essay. the teacher didn't mind; i got it perfectly figured out, hence the full marks. i just differentiated f--cking and making love. nothing wrong. one's wilder than the other, of course.

June 8 - Good Times with Mo Anniversary; October 19 - Mo Twister's Bday - I'm a fan, so what.


The Feminist Rapunzel would cut her own hair and make a rope out of it, then go down the tower by herself. - The prince would still be coming to rescue her, only to find her gone. But isn't he blind? or would be blinded by the witch when she finds and curses him? Rack up a point for the Feminist Rapunzel. she wouldn't be missing her hair, that's for sure. she'd sell it, then donate it to the poor, like Jo from Little Women.

Father: The Oxymoron - Here's the message i group-sent over the past Father's Day. Need i say more?

Meticulous, tidy, heavily Obsessive-Compulsive;
And endlessly dispensing tender care, lovingly intensive;
There much more to why we should love her,
Counting even her natural volatility, fury and anger."
We gotta love our Mums. Happy Mother's Day - here's for Mother's Day.

Am i already what i am destined to be? - rhetorical, and a soliloquy, of course. essentially, everything is by this statement. Have i reached the acme? nope. am i even doing everything correctly? i hope i have been.

Dialogue:
Person 1: Please don't emotionally hurt me by poking--or stabbing, fun at my disorganized upbringing.

Person 2: We are all messed up; that is why we go so DARNED well as friends. Your problem is, that you find your being messed-up to be a downside. I'm blessed to have parents who didn't care enough.
*end scene*
-just something in my head i had to siphon into my phone.

I pray to God that in this dark hour
Keep me standing and not falter. - The request is still ongoing. Praying brings me peace of mind.

I cannot promise you forever, but i'll try my hardest to give you my everyday. - at least it's honest. nothing lasts forever, as told by the scientists studying the universe. Also, mass is not fixed: the speed of light guarantees infinite mass. or maybe i understood wrong.

I L-VE you like the morning sun's caress - fill-in the blank with your favorite vowel. i am not one to comment on this kind of statement, though i made it.

Earphones - single words really do not explain so much. but if i remember correctly, while riding the jeepney, this popped right out: i wondered if the area of function [or the area where sound comes out] of the earphones is proportional to the magnitude of sound of the conventional stereos, given that they are of the same engineering? i mean, if i put together [n] number of earphones together so that the the bundle is as big as a stereo, would they sound equally loud? useless piece of question.

Google Test - a test of google-manship, or search-manship. how few can one enter, with only keywords, to come up with the wanted result on top of the search results? i've decided to scrap this concept, after i've found out that sites, e.g facebook, wikipedia, pay google so that they always come first, when searching for, say people, or things.

WENDY IS A BITCH! - 'pinag-tripan si Wendy'. and she was just there, her reg fly-way, albeit braided, hair behind her smiling, freckle-speckled face along sides of sweating paper Frosty cups, and here i call her a bitch. for what reason? wala lang. i love her ketchup, though.







Sugar-shaking; Eyes Disguise
- a couple of compound words [that makes four] i've yet to invent meanings for. See that the first one is an alliteration. haha. like 'Peter Piper picked...'

Sleep deep - rhyming; though there isn't much to hide between the words.

MBTI ISTJ - some psych exam i took. turns out that i am a perfectionist. true. not true with my grades. but ''all or nothing'' is key to good work.



Sunday, August 2, 2009

people be mindful

or 'how hard i laugh at politicians'

it goes like this: HAHAHA in the biggest font size, in bold type.

i dont care anymore about politics. not because of the destiny that my parents are imposing unto me, where i go forth to foreign lands to peddle therapeutic services, and then reap sack-fuls of money. i'd be happier to fulfill it, hadn't i been a human with his own will. so i'll be just half-happy getting rich; and maybe half-way, i shall get burnt-out, then do whatever i had really wanted to do.

now back to politics.

recently, i've been watching the news, Bandila on ABS-CBN (the show's slogan is quite good), and seeing Erap is new, though not entirely, amidst all the bad news. he's relatively new, compared to how much exposure everyone else have been getting, like the president, or barrack obama, or pokwang.

and Erap still talks that way, like a drunken dog with its tongue cut off at the root. he was mumbling. it really is important to determine whose speeches need subtitling, like how they do with freddie roach, pacman's coach. he used to do some boxing himself, and how he talks, like a roach, may have resulted from some serious punching at the kisser.

and Erap still talks crap. he was bashing the president, and her husband, and still is pretending to be COMPLETELY oblivious of how he came to be ousted. kind of pissed me off, that manner he talked.

everyone is trying to get at least someone get drowned into the pool of controversy, and i doubt that at least one of them is doing something for me.

i know i should write some more, but im tinatamad na. so wag na alng....zzzz.


Saturday, July 25, 2009

Lady GaGa putting an inflatable Killer Whale against her crotch.


There is text after the pics.


i still havent acquired the lady gaga inner thigh pics. i cant get a decent still from her Beautiful, Dirty, Rich music video. she's stuffing her mouth with money in that video, which is not very stimulating. i mean, that's wrong, all-out wrong.

however, above are stills from another video. the pictures showing her straddling an inflatable orca[or killer whale] are, erm--cute. she also rubs the orca's snout between her boobies, which i think isnt purposeful except for art's sake.

and she's coming here, august 11. i dont know if i'd go. passes are not cheap; and my time isnt free. i mean, i dont have time for myself.

blogging is only for the weekend only, apparently, for me.



Was the Potter movie good? Better than the Order.

Better than the Order of the Phoenix.

i watched the latest hp movie, hp6, with my bestfriend, CAMB, or 'stupid biatch'.


and i saw that david yates directed it well, and the additional helping of darkness into the movie certainly helped. the darkness worked itself into my heart. aww...like a snake straight out of a swamp, slithering into an unknowing and empty sleeping bag of some camper. [then dead camper in the morning, foaming in the mouth]

the lines were not very good, but passed. of course, that's no Doubt, where seymour-hoffman and streep did very good jobs delivering what the playwright[what's his name, i forgot.] wrote. and i wouldn't call the acting horrid, but it wasn't top-class either. so maybe, mediocre.


[mediocre. i remember ms. bolanos, and how, somehow, her dermatomes are misplaced, allegedly; and what a quack she is when demo-ing her mind-reading tricks. anyway, i still kinda liked her.]

the potter kid acted like how anyone would with a problem. and maybe his problem was that he's going to die, or the headmaster of the school would die, his girlfriend would die, or if the afro giant man is going to be affected. [i dont know, i forgot the whole series. i didnt even get to the last book. got bored.]

and every other character was just about as good as the potter kid actor.

then there was the helena bonham-carter actress, who did pretty well acting all funny and crazed. the mother weasly added a new emotion: sadness, as she looked at the house being engulfed in flames; and rupert grint did what he could do: trying to act. and his love-sick face and mannerisms were the most annoying of all. well, then i guess he did good. that hermione girl was doing it again with her accent, very thick, almost fake, and sometimes sounding very prude and i want to smash her mouth ["please talk as normal people do! and dont make it all look so fake"]. but it hink she's gotten better, and i have to commend her effort.

hmm. the camera did better. shots were interesting, i especially liked the shot from the bottom of stairwell of the burrows [right? the red-hair ron weasly house] when everyone looked down. the dumbledore drinking murky water was my favorite part. the silence was good, the blackness of everything else was also wonderfully rendered. the balance was good.

and im no good or fair critic. but i liked the potter 6, and wouldn't mind watching it again on the big-screen. i could watch it by myself, and i want to, because two very talkative ladies at my right were watching the movie, and at the same time reviewing among the both of them how the story would go. thank you, you noisy bi*ches. hahaha.


WAIT! i have to tell how i felt about dumbledore and the rest of the faculty. i felt that Dumbledore had his 'Gandalf' moments. i hope you get what i mean. but i'll tell it anyway: he looked like gandalf on some shots. strikingly-gandalf-ish. and the old woman professor mcgonagall, the lines in her face tells me she hasnt cared to wash her face before going to bed for the past 200years. snape still had that hair-do, and i still would be hesitant to touch it, lest i want some oil for my hands.

luna lovegood was very efficient. very nice. i liked how the lion blinked with her eveytime she did. and of course, being the main kook, that's a tough job to pull off. and maybe she'll be a real actress someday.

and lavender brown did a great job of making everyone laugh. she's not the hottest, but she's funny. the mist drawing on the train was classic. epic, even. it displayed how lovesick she exactly was, and how she is oblivious of how stupid she seemed.

and i think malfoy, the actor who played him, is going to be a very ugly actor in the future. hmm, so there's a signal to get good in acting, and maybe spare the coke [the drug]. let Seal, that very good singer and husband of supermodel Heidi Klum, be an example: not so pretty face, very good with talent.

the voldemort kid was, as my bestfriend whispered, very gay. he was, in my opinion, very menacing to look at.

++
+++
+++++

MY FAVORITE PARTS:
-Helena-Bonham Carter [she played the accomplice of Sweeney Todd in Sweeney Todd: Demon Barber of Fleet Street.]


- Dumbledore drinking water from the pedestal
- the sadness of the sometimes annoyingly happy Weasleys
- how 'pimp-ish' malfoy looks with his get-up

- the Vanishing Cabinet
- when Helena-bonham carter conjures up a brushfire
- when dumbledore sets the gollum-looking creatures on fire in order to save harry
- the ending part, where they all gather around the dead dumbledore, and they put their wands us to disperse the dark mark.
- lavender brown, that horny bitch.

LEAST FAVORITE PARTS:
- no Voldemort encounter [why?!}
- McGonagall's age showing on her face
- Snape's shampoo-resistant hair
- the birds dying in the cabinet
- harry potter and ginny weasley sparking up a romance
- the flirty negra at the start of the movie. she certainly did a lot to make the english railways a tourist hot-spot. maybe now the diners in england are part of the red-light district.


Thursday, April 2, 2009

The moment I fear has come to.

joking.
my life just doesn't have the right quantity of risky factors that would enable it to actually come into such an enormously life-changing, uhm, moment.

anyway.

i went to the grocery store yesterday with my mother, and passing by the veggie section, along the spot where one could get salad needs, bottles of veggie cleaner were standing in a neat row. and if anyone had already guessed it, yes, the name of the solution was "VEGIWASH". **in case you do not get it, try replacing E with another vowel [like O, but VOGI-WASH isn't really naughty-funny, as VUGI-WASH and VIGI-WASH aren't].

then i tried telling the thought to my mom, i being stupid enough to think that it'd sell, but then my attention was drawn to a pile [or do you call that a bushel?] of reddish mangoes. apparently, they are apple mangoes, and they are red, and they do not taste as good, betty said. fine, mother.

the baking aisle we came to next, and i got myself some pastry mixes. i try to bake at times, but i get more satisfaction by eating them. hey, don't judge; guys bake. most bakers are men. i, by the way, do not seem too guilty of this thing i do; the thing being something i do not enjoy thouroughly.

i just can't stop thinking about how overjoyed i am that i passed thrid year. i mean, i wasn't too bad, but definitely not even average. the work i've given was minimal, i accept that it was. oh well, see you guys in fourth year.

AND writing about who i want to see, i now want to write about hose people i do not want to see.

and the pair i have is a guy and an abomination-human-esque-vagina-bearing-estrogen-pumped-errr, creature.

the latter could go to hell, or wherever IT wants to go. go, bi*ch [nice censoring, albert. no one could ever read bitch out of it], go. no one is keeping IT here.

no one is keeping IT from leaving. but maybe that's why it ISN'T leaving. how the heck should i know? i don't even know the w*man that well.

the guy i do not want to talk about. the flak has reached so high.
clue: crab.
sentence: I want them to get deductions. crabcakes are scrumptious. [a&b are both true]

another thing to yell about would be DOCTOR GONZAGA. for the last time, please, try growing a brain. if you did already, try listening to it for once. please. the stupidity is annoying enough.

um, if the entry is cryptic, and you're, like, not getting it, go to facebook or somewhere else, where dumb people get off. i don't get really why im on facebook. i'm not smart, but there are times when facebook just makes me stare annoyed at the screen, mouthing, "What the f*ck?!", shaking my head.



Friday, March 27, 2009

All good has started.

of course, there had just been a widespread scare over the lingering schooldays due to the magnitude of the remedial exams, of which i take one for a certain subject. of course, failures, or waiting for it, would bring a next level to dread. worst thing that could come would be debarment, and that means waving goodbye to three years of hard-forced toil.

the impending remedial exam really did scare the living hope out of me. i could end up nowhere, and i could be doing nothing, if ever i fail. that would be due to shame, and death, if ever my worst fears of ending up as garbage, i.e, bumming around and jobless, would be that imposing, and the realization that it might come true hardens into the mould.

and, thankfully, people hear what some people need doing for themselves, and friends offered more than hands to help me get through. seriously, if not for everyone's help, i might as well have not taken the exam.

there had been three or four days straight--full of studying, one-on-one lectures, graphs, guyton's physio books, quickly shakes, and fear-- and not once did everyone falter. the effort all gave is effort well-spent. thanks, guys.

++++++++++++++++++++

of course, i passed.
i'd be really, really pissed if i hadn't.
it'd be disgraceful, and shameful, and could even be disrespectful. the measures taken in order to cram everything as systematically as a group of students can is taken to be very efficient, i would say from experience.

and then it was pure joy after all the hard work. the promise to myself that i'd never let this happen again, having grades so low i had to take remeds, was of course, still burning.

you've just got to love one thing.




Friday, February 27, 2009

Facebook

The facebook has come.
and there is not a bit of denial in myself, and i am sure i share this sentiment with many more, that it's the next big thing. i've seen this with friendster, when i first encountered it in '03.

but where would multiply fit in?

of course, or so i honestly believe, friendster has nothing compared to multiply.
since multply happened to me, friendster-usage had decreased, in a pace so rapid that i don't even remember what my URL is. eventually, i stopped using it altogether, blogs and albums and all. multipy has all of those coolnesses plus a much more user-friendly interface.

multiply allows me to cross-post my blogs to my blogger account [absolutalbert.blogspot.com]. i am not so sure if friendster does that, though i still wouldn't care if it really does. plus, file uploading and downloading became easier.

now, what about the facebook? it doesn't do blog [i haven't seen it yet], no file uploads, and the interface is so darned complicated. even virtual flinging of virtual mud pies are hard.




Monday, February 23, 2009

Manong Driver, you are so mathematically efficient.

Not to mention possessing a keen sense of the common.

and i am just a sarcastic kid. ok, so hit me.

riding the jeepney last night, it was very late. the darkness was full, because it was already 11pm.

a girl and her boyfriend got in, fished for some fare then paid.

the girl handed the coins to the driver, "Manong, isang delta, isang Rotonda."

the driver then said,"So, uhhm, dalawa kayo?"

"Malamang," the girl retorted.

end of entry..=)



Friday, February 20, 2009

Let's LICK THE YEMA!

"let's lick the yema til not a spot of it is dry, shining wet, so moist,
let's lick the yema til the flavorful essence encompasses the being,

let's roll it, play with it in our mouths.
let's roll it til there's none of it left."

deviating from the senseles, albeit sensual and suggestive poem, i am going to write about a certain person who, everyday and in every way, makes us all happy, during rain or when it shines, and maybe even when snow comes to conquer our tropical land of polluted minds and mouths.

"Hi, guys.."

Here she comes...

"..would you like to.."

She's coming near...

"...buy some?.."

Seriously, she's nearer!

"...I have yema and chocolate pastillas"

And you've got no place to hide to.

and that's how ate yema [to me, she doesn't have a real name. i don't know it yet] gets to sell her ware. her sweet yema.

her history i do not know of. i first saw her and her bagful of sweet things back then when i was going to class at the sixth floor. she was a nursing atudent back then, wearing her white nurse' uniform. her opening speech was so long ["hi, guys, would you like to..."] i got lost so soon. but i got the gist: she was selling her things[yema, etc].

and this still goes on. now she wears civvies, having graduated the program.

and now she bears not only yema. but also cookies. maybe she has SPACE CAKES, but i dare not ask for fear of getting FARTHER into space and not coming back [because of eating the said cakes].

one time toyang and i were getting into the classroom, to eat what we've bought from the cafe.

i opened the door for her, and at the exact same moment, yema-lady was going out.

the two ladies saw each other, face to face.

"Hey, girl, you want some?". her attitude i sensed as i held the door open for the two of them

to which toyang replied,"Damn right, bee-yaatch, i want some o' dat sumthin'". [this statement didn't really take place. toyang said 'ok'. just that.]

and then the transaction took place, then toyang proceeded to take a small bite into her yema.

another funny incident was related to me by kayne. she was walking with rej at the carpark, i think, when yema-lady suddenly sprung up to them and said,"hi, rej and ABBY..."

Who's abby, no one knows. yema-lady has got some serious yema obsruction in her ear, which, along with the other one, dangle really low because of the huge earrings.



++that's all for now. =)

Thursday, February 19, 2009

I THINK she has decent inner thighs.

Lady GaGa, i mean.

pardon the indecent comment about the decency of her inner things. pardon my unacceptable, brash, unthinking remark.

but when one is talked about to be walking the streets of the city in her panties, dancing in her undies in her music video whilst exposing a probably powdered pair of legs in a "close-open-close-OPEEEN" fashion, then the so-called indecency i write pales into the background, bearing no contrast to the truth.



and talking about it, creating a blog entry just for it, then makes her, as a person, not only her shiny pair of walking legs, worthy of more attention.

smart move she did, and still does, showcasing her legs for all the public to see.

but maybe i should talk about her talent. she sings. she's not only a pair of legs with ONLY panties on. but i think she wears pants on occasion, like valentine's. Maybe.
























you have to get out of living under a rock to get what im saying. having done that, now read intently.

lady gaga is not a transvestite, or a man who got operated to look like a girl. the name is a big misnomer. i was once confused too. haha. i thought maybe she's one of those weird people trying to put on a show so hollywood would take a chance.

she didn't get to hollywood, and she'd no tranny [pardon my politically incorrect term].

she's pure sweet girl. kinda short, but that makes her cuteness grow more.

talent? she has it. watch out for her legs. and try to look at her face too, if you get the chance. haha.that's all i can say for now. i havent seen much of her. of course im not looking at her legs everytime i see her video. school work had to be done, so video watching had to stop. hmmph.

haha. Lady GaGa. look her up.

Friday, January 30, 2009

My LATEST piece of Poetry. "ODE TO CRS"

Ode to CRS

Nothing like a rest day

To alleviate any day
In the CRS, where there is no rest
Where the mind-boggling is the test
Where i study all day and barely pass
And i use the failed papers to wipe my a--

Where the jocks and nerds go to get hell,
You get in happy; then go out not so well,
Every minute of every day, there is whining
About the papers and the lectures,"Man, oh so boring!"
But everyone forgets about the silver lining
First you get roughed-up, then come out shining

The patients of the world need their rehabilitation
Seriously, even Hollywood, Bollywood, throughout the nation
Give 'em
the assessments, the stretches, all the works
Be friendly and nice as you smoothen out the quirks

We'll be practicing one of the greatest sciences ever
Too bad, though, we can't practice on someone with a fever
But there's always Med school, not too far
And we'll surely get through, because that's who we are.

PEACE =) -albert.

**IN MY HEAD, this sounded like a rap song. Anyway, if it feels like a normal poem, then it's fine. There's no difference, anyway.

**SORRY FOR THE PROFANITY. I don't really wipe my ass with the exam papers. Hehe.

Friday, January 23, 2009

Eating worms, Chewing mud.

in order to study well, one has to have an adequate amount of interest.

i have a fairly sufficient possession of interest in what i study, though i'd give anything to have at least half-of-half of a nerd's share.

the nerd has it all: interest, determination, and zero social life [though i have to agree that the last one we both have].

plus, of course, a nerd has an above average level of intellect, enabling him to process all the shi--sorry--i mean, STUFF he picks up.

AND so, i just had to say this: STUDYING IS VERY, VERY, VERY DIFFICULT --BUT IT BRINGS ME THE TREASURES THAT I KEEP CLOSEST TO MY HEART. *nice*

*excuse me, for i have to vomit all my stomach's contents, plus my heart..* Xb

Going back to reality...

yes, now i am trying harder to study. and of course, i get through to doing the studying.

physiology graphs kill me, and all the logic pours acid onto my gut.
anatomy, well, takes me for a ride and i feel like i'll end up on a gurney everytime.


psychology leaves me clueless. i feel raped, [don't we all]? plus, the prof is someone very annoying. see below:

PROBLEM: test papers run out, leaving six or so students with no test papers to answer.
SOLUTION: perfect scores for the students who didn't get papers.

RATIONALE [roughly what the prof said, or implied]: i am the teacher, i rule you all.
RETORT [by the utterly astonished crowd of students]: unfair! [of course]
DEFENSE: *same as Defense
RETORT: it's not you who makes the grade, but the students.
DEFENSE: your grades are not affected by their perfect scores. more importantly, i rule you all!
RETORT: but we all studied for this test! why not just make them another test?
DEFENSE: just think of it this way, not all of us are born good-looking, and you couldn't do anything about it, right? it's just like failing a test.
RETORT: FIRST, beauty is subjective; grades on the other hand, are objective. SECOND, to be born pretty is dictated by luck, which is a friggin' galaxy away from studying hard.
DEFENSE: hate me as you like; bear the greatest grudge; anyway, don't be hating the students i've given perfect scores to. they've no fault.
RETORT: duh. really, DUH. good thing, though, that you expect only hate from us. we'd be giving you a really big serving. anyway, we're surely mature enough to to put blame on any of those students.


**PACIFISTS GET UP FRONT, THE NOISY DON'T LET UP, UPROARIOUS ANGER ENSUES EVEN MORE**

then, when we all realize that we all can't do or say anything to bend his darned-awful judgment.

and that's how psychology made less sense to me.
back then, it stirs up so much interest in me. classifying people, learning more, understanding further the people around me, brought me much gusto. that was then.

oh well, that part ended ugly.
========================================================================

don't tell that i wrote about him.

he's really, really unreasonable.

Saturday, January 3, 2009

hmm. school once again is scaring the sh!t outta me.

hmm. school once again is scaring the sh!t outta me.

first, i didn't sign up for torture.
second, my body still is on holiday mode [but it always is].

so then why go back to study PT?
[i talk as if i've just been from hibernation. but, hey, i hate school that much.]

i'll finally get to return cheung's book: IT by Stephen King. the book kept me company while trying to sleep throughout the christmas celebration. christmas morning was when i finished reading the last page, ads and order forms included.

and now i'm back to crime and punishment, a book i intend to read again immediately after finishing it, albeit satisfying the first reading, and beautiful as a piece of literature. maybe in a month and a half i'll finish it, and i'm crossing my fingers.

i'll end being a nerd temporarily after reading the dostoyevsky. being a nerd is hard, especially when homework is piling up and sleep is scarce.

school? nope. i still hate it. give me a dozen novels to read in a year and i'd be happier. school and studying are two things that are hateful. hateful. hateful. and they go together well. how nice.

enough of this crap. i again am practicing a so-called talent that i myself, and i know you too, do not find entertainment in. it's a talent i don't wield very well, and that nobody enjoys. how tragic it is.