Time for a Change, Again.

I read most of my posts in this new blog, and compared it to my older blogs. By old, I meant really, really old blogs. Two years ago, and older.

Sad to say that I have lost touch.

I am not saying that I am a great writer. I am in no way even a good writer. It’s just that the posts are no longer the same. Do you know the saying that you’ll know when it’s over? After reading my last posts, I had a feeling that it would all be over, if not yet.

I feel like I lost the passion to write. Maybe because when I was younger, I had so much apathy to everyone and everything around me. Not because I wanted to, but because I was influenced by the environment to hate every single thing, living or not, outside of my immediate family, for security reasons. I can’t trust anyone because I didn’t have the luxury to, or so I think. All of this gave me a different perspective, a different world.  A different left and right hemisphere that spews out different thoughts and observations, and with that came numerous posts that I found very satisfactory.

And that is the point.

I felt satisfied with my posts. Every time I hit the Publish button, or whatever button on another site, I have always felt like I did my brain justice, my experience thanked a million times and shared nicely. Now, all I feel is the obligation to post at least once or twice a week, just to keep my blog rolling. I don’t even have a tingle of that satisfaction. Maybe sometimes, but not enough.

All the pain (no emo) as a youngster, helped guide the hand glide through the keys. The brain, directly connected to the hands, and it types as the brain thinks. Split second difference. Like Tupac said, “I go blind and let the Lord do His thing” or something similar. My own version of the Ghetto Gospel. My own story, and my own storytelling.

Is that what I am missing now? I am hoping not.

I look at the blogs of my acquaintances from college and even high school. Some of them, just fresh bloggers. But I don’t want to call myself a blogger. I just want to be a writer, simple and plain. Not even a professional one.  I just want to tell myself that I can write.

I look at the blogs of acquaintances from college and even high school. I don’t want to join the bandwagon, though. It’s not for me. I don’t want to promote senseless products, or products that I don’t really need. I don’t want to force humor in every post, or put too much emphasis on trying to be intellectual. I don’t want to follow famous authors’ style of writing. I want to have my own, or better yet have them emulate me.

I don’t like the direction where my journal is going either.

I read all the blogs that I follow. Don’t get me wrong. I love how they express themselves, and that’s one reason I transferred to WordPress. I feel more content after reading the blogs. Maybe it’s the community, or maybe it just the writers themselves. I just don’t feel the content I get after reading their post, compared to after I publish my own.

Maybe the cure is to post only when I really feel like it. But that’s another change I didn’t want to happen. Back then, I was able to write at will, with the same level of contentment all throughout. It shouldn’t be a problem for me now, or so I thought.

If it takes me weeks to get back on track, maybe that would be necessary. I worried about statistics too much for the past months that I failed to remember why I even started writing and posting online in the first place.

I want to let my future child/children know how fun it is to write, and to read. I want them to read my thoughts when I was younger, when I was their age. I want them to follow. I want them to write every difficulty, obstacle they face and how they triumphed over it, so that they would be able to share it to their children.

I remember my love for drawing. I used to draw a lot when I was a kid. I literally drew on our walls just to satisfy my urge to draw. Then I got cooped up in an educational institution that did not support my love for drawing. Same thing happened to writing. Every school I have been never really helped develop any or all of my potentials, if any.

I’ll start by reading more. I have mentioned that I have been reading the blogs that I follow. I would look for more blogs that pique my interest, and for more books and magazines. I lost touch with these paperback friends, and it is entirely my fault.

I would like to get back on track. One post at a time.

Sick Day

I got sick yesterday, and I am still not sure why. Now, I can’t go back to sleep because I slept the whole night yesterday. Just because of that, I stumbled upon a few interesting things on the ‘net.


It rained yesterday, which is maybe the reason why I got sick too. I was looking at this and it looks nice. Although I am wondering about the pants.  Would it protect my pants??

Knuckle Stun Gun

This description was too funny:

These knuckle enhancing stun guns pack an impressive 950,000 volts of electricity in every punch, enough to paralyze your attacker even if you punch like a little girl.


Flying car - with Description

All the pictures above are from http://www.thisiswhyimbroke.comand Amazon.com

I also saw this article on SPOT.ph:

This means a lot to comic book fanatics (like me) and all the aspiring artists in the Philippines. I have always dreamed of drawing my own line of comic books, I just did not have the talent and I never really worked on it. But, there’s a lot of great artists in our 7,000+ islands.

It’s More Fun in Boracay: A School Project

I need a bit of help.

My brother has this little school project that needs several hundred “likes” in order for them to pass the subject. It is a video about how it is “more fun” in Boracay, following the theme of the Department of Tourism’s “It’s More Fun in the Philippines”. He is taking up Hotel Management, and Boracay was one of their stops on their recent tour/duty.

Here is the video, for those who has Facebook:

Jake’s Project: All Rights go to their respective owners

Now let’s go to my rant. What I don’t get is why. He needs to have 500+ likes to pass his subject. Screw all his examinations, attendance and class participation.

But I’ll leave that for later.

All I need now is for everyone to HIT THE LIKE BUTTON!!!


Watch List: The Devil Inside

This movie was as intriguing as its title, but…….it messed up at the end.

The Devil Inside is a mockumentary about exorcism and the religious involvement, or the lack thereof, with exorcists and the possessed.

The trailer:

SPOILER: If you have not watched the movie yet, be prepared to be disappointed, or be scratching your head with the ending, which is really not an ending.  It is an abrupt stop to the movie, although if you’d look at it as a “based on a true story” point of view, it would make a bit of sense. Just a bit.

The story revolves around Isabella Rossi’s quest to find her mom, and find out what really happened to her. Last thing she remembered about her mom was a news headline. Her mom, being exorcised, killed the 3 people trying to help her.

Fernanda Andrade as Isabella; Suzan Crowley as the Scary Ass Mom

This leads her to Rome, where her mom was sent to an asylum, and meeting 2 priests, David and Ben.

Evan Halmuth as David
Simon Quarterman as Ben

Crazy things start to happen and people get either thrown off or get killed, or this:


   Listen to the bones while watching this movie…..

But don’t say I did not warn you about the ending.

Making Faces at the Mall

SM Mall of Asia is one huge place. Walking around it looking for the items that we needed to buy was an exercise in itself. Luckily, the mall has it’s benches so the tired shoppers (like Marla and I) has somewhere to rest, weary feet and all.

It's almost always packed like this


   The place is huge. That’s one of the reasons why I don’t go there in the first place. My legs would get tired first, way before I find the store or the item that I am looking for.

  Last week, we had a plan so the walk was a bit lesser. Go bowling and then watch a movie. Bowling was fun, although it was just one game. The movie was an eye-opener (see next post).

  But the best part? Meeting this little tyke:


   That’s Christine, with her mom, Christy. The kid was making faces all the time! We were laughing with her mom, since the kid knew everyone was watching her, so she did what she had to do. A couple more years and I bet I will see her on TV.