Those Lips That Love’s Own Hand Did Make

5 07 2008

I moaned as I softly harassed her breasts.

 

She wiped my lips for I was drooling. She stroked my chest to comfort me, to momentarily retard my thirst. Intensely anxious to engage in whatever we were doing, she instinctively disrobed. She lifted her shirt. The only covering she had left was her bra, so she unhooked it.

 

She was now nude from hips up, chest exposed.

 

At that instant, I knew what to do. She gently groaned as I sucked her nipples. They were warm—as always. It was intuition, as if I was born to do it. It felt like I was draining milk from her bosom with too much gusto.

 

But she enjoyed it.

 

After a while, I released the breasts from my grip. I fell asleep. At last my craving was satisfied.

 

She was aware that I was fulfilled. And that for her is the ultimate orgasm.

.

.

.


You probably pictured the text above as a display of lust. But in fact if you read it again, you’d realize that you might be mistaken. This could be interpreted as an infant being breastfed. The story is a deconstruction, parts are left to the reader’s imagination.

The idea is not original, though. I borrowed it from Kelly’s D.E.N.S.E.C.I.T.Y.” blog. [Thanks Kelly!] Since I liked (in fact ‘loved’) her post, I wrote my version. It’s much more personal since it’s written in a first person form.

Wala lang. Hakhak.

XXXxx





Dude Where’s Your Carp?

28 06 2008

I think I’m psychic.

No kidding, I seriously think I am. Hakhak. I remember a paranormal expert, Mr. Licauco from the University of the Philippines, as he discussed the plethora of signs concerned with scientifically-unproven abilities of the brain. It was a very abrupt seminar so a lot of the participants still had questions—I am one of them of course.

It may have been concise but it actually stirred up my brainwork. He discussed simple instances that most people consider mere coincidences. And these could actually be manifestations of something much more than that. That familiar feeling, déjà vu, is one of those signs. But I’m sure you’ve felt that thing called precognition—it’s when you know or think about something before it happens.

I know it’s corny but here it goes:

I was on my way home from school. Everyone’s so quiet trying not to wake up the ones sleeping beside them. The road was rough, the vehicle was literally jumping. But anyways, I was there, sitting, bouncing with everyone else at each bump the van encounters—as usual. Then I thought of creating a magazine, preferably for the school, since that would mean that I’m not the one shouldering the printing expenses. I imagined the cover. I thought of the title—paraSiGHT. Para as in paranormal, or deviating from the norm, and sight for vision. Clever, ain’t it? Okay, so it’s not that original. The name is from my good Friendster pal, Paransis. He coined the term, but there are a lot of parasights out there on the net. There’s one in DeviantArt, for instance. But that’s not the point.

The thing is, the next day, after our bowling session (for our P.E. class), we had our History subject. The first few words that came out of our professor’s mouth were about a project due on Thursday. So he (or she) started writing on the board.

It was awesome. We had to make our own magazines. Hakhak. Told ‘ya I was psychic.

You are now officially reading a nincompoop’s blog. I mean come on, what kind of people believe they can predict the future? Only retards do that. But then again, Professor Licauco said that those simple things may mean paranormal stuff (I hate this word).

You can check out paraSiGHt—the online magazine here.

I may not be entirely sure about my brain’s superpower. But I sure know one thing—you’ll click the button below and add a comment.

Hakhak.

XXXxx





The Bermuda Trapezoid

21 06 2008

FACT:

The Bermuda Triangle is NOT a triangle; it’s a trapezoid.

DEPOTA.

That’s exactly how I vented my disgust for my Engineering Mechanics professor after he uttered these words ad nauseam:

Mathematics is the language of the universe.

 

I’m not good in math. Those basic stuff, sure, I get them. But when it comes to the more complicated details (e.g. derivatives, integrals, limits, etc.), that’s when my nose bleeds.

I suddenly remembered something that happened during my initial year in college. It was 3 or 4 in the afternoon; our Trigonometry professor was discussing something about some trigo-function crap, when I saw something on my notebook. There was a big red dot on the page. So I instinctively touched my upper lip, it was wet. For Christ’s sake it was not snot.

Then there was blood.

How poetic, my nose LITERALLY bled during a math subject. I did not want to cause a commotion so I kept it to myself and covered my nose with tissue. (It was my freshman year; I was ready as a boy scout back then.) After a while, it eventually stopped. Thank god I was the only one who actually noticed.

I passed the subject though, but by far, my final grade in Trigonometry is the lowest for all of my subjects, ever.

The prospectus of my course, which is Electronics and Communications Engineering, mainly projects electronics and math—the two topics I loathe the most. You might ask me how I get by with a course that is totally beyond my comfort zone without flunking any subjects. I ask myself the same thing.

Hakhak. I’ll share something harsh about my scholarship.

So you probably realize by now that I’m an SM Scholar—ehem, a PROUD SM Scholar. Thanks to Henry Sy, Sr., I do not have to cash-out a single centavo for my tuition. And the best part is they even pay me. But there is a catch. If ever I fail a subject, I’ll have to pay for that subject only. But if I do not reach the required Graded Point Average, I’ll have to pay for the full tuition fee next term, and that’s a whopping 40,000 pesos! I certainly cannot afford that so I do my darn hardest to pass my calculus quizzes, even if that means not sleeping for two days.

I hate equations. I mean come on, in real life, no one actually uses derivatives. Okay, so there may be a few who do. But the point is, math should have never been invented—and in effect computers could have not been invented, too. And in turn, this amazing (?) blog could not have existed. Okay, I take back my statement. I love math.

Hakhak.

 

XXXxx





The 250 People You Meet at the Eighth Floor

14 06 2008

Okay, sure, this article is dumb as hell. The grammar and composition is poor. I just saw it while fumbling through my old college files. Again, I found it interesting. So in case you were wondering how pitiful I wrote back then, read on:

Located 56 feet above sea level, it is not surprising to see how diverse Asia Pacific College’s engineering students are.

Ranging from total fashionistas to total weirdoes, the inhabitants of the 8th floor of the APC Building prove to be one of best species of human beings that ever set foot on earth (not to offend leg amputees).

To understand us better, though we are so strange that it is virtually impossible to comprehend us clearly, here is a list of the basic groups of people that you have probably already encountered at the 8th floor:

1. The Leibniz-wannabes

Here come the scholars.

An ordinary human being will find it very difficult to understand what goes through these people’s heads. Unconsciously, these Leibniz-wannabes find it impossible to sleep without studying 50 pages ahead of everyone else. They have this tendency to exaggeratedly learn everything they can due to the paranoia of failing, which we highly doubt happening to them.

Whenever something falls out of the sky, they exclaim, “Oh my gravity! Get out of there; it’s falling with a negative acceleration of 9.8 meters per second per second! Do you seriously want to kill yourself?” Yet, this is not the weirdest trait they have.

These cerebral beings don’t cram nor fail tests. But when they do, severe manifestations of manic depression happen; to the point that they actually hurt themselves by banging their technical pens to their heads.

The Leibniz-wannabe’s live on computations, electronics, and mathematics alone. Their sagging eye bags prove to be the effects of sleepless nights trying to disprove the Pythagorean Theorem.

But most of all, they hate seeing 3.5’s or lower grades on their report cards. These ratings poison them. They will not eat nor sleep for days due to the thought that they had failed the ancient religion of numbers.

In effect of their lack of sleep, the average time of death of this breed of engineering students is just about twelve to fourteen days after they have graduated (This is based from a not-so-trustworthy study conducted by the next type of engineering people.)

2. The Braindeads

These are somewhat the opposite of the Leibniz-wannabe’s.

The Braindeads don’t necessary loathe equations, it just so happen that their brain synapses are down. No matter how much they examine numbers and equations, these symbols practically appear invisible to them. Thus, they are also referred to as “Number-blinds.”

What’s more intriguing is that whenever they hear certain words such as calculus or antiderivatives, their noses bleed as if they where hit on the head by a ten-wheeler truck.

They don’t need extra hours of tutorials; this won’t have any effect on them. A few specific occurrences like a car accident or severe head trauma can possibly change their pathetic condition.

You definitely wouldn’t want to be like them.

3. The All-I-Can-Think-Of-Is-DOTA Type

These engineering students are the ones that can actually blend into the crowd and we won’t ever wonder what they’re going to do after class.

But every once in a while, we hear someone utter, “I’ m sure I won’t be the first blood next game!” which we have no idea about whatever he meant by those words.

That, my friend, is only a small part of a language only computer-gaming freaks know.

Underground, amidst the noises of the sacred land of Netopia, lies an arena for a new kind of engineering people. They are known as the All-I-Can-Think-Of-Is-DOTA Type.

We rarely see them attending classes, not unless the class involves computers.

From mirrors to points, gods to vipers, and pretty much everything you can think of, they can relate that to their addiction. So when examination time comes, they just might as well sleep and dream about new strategies for their next battle.

4. The D.N.E.’s

Does not exist

This term (also known as D.N.E.) is used to define numbers that are non-existent. But now, this also describes a certain kind of engineering folks that somehow disappear into the masses so unnoticeably that we are not even sure if there are students of this kind.

Inside classrooms, they hardly ever talk to anyone. They have a fear of being called by the professor to recite. They die each time they are requested to speak or just even show their presence.

They would rather talk to their own fingernails than to converse and have fun with other people.

They probably need some advice from this next type.

5. The I-Have-So-Much-Cash -I-Can-Even-Buy-My-Own-College Sort

The name implies that money is by no means their problem, and so is repeating subjects.

They are the ones who trade The Calculus 7 textbook for the latest issue of Teen Vogue. The only numbers that they know are those on the price tags of their signature clothing. And dating their boyfriends or girlfriends is a bigger priority than to review for the final exams.

They never worry about grades because their parents’ affluence is their back-up.

Though they may pass certain subjects once in a while, we just can’t imagine these guys passing the board exam and becoming engineers—which in every way is improbable (not unless their bribes work).

And last but not least (nor the most):

6. The Jugglers

Basically everybody wants to belong into this brand.

The Jugglers effortlessly balance their social lives with their grades.

They may not be as smart as the Leibniz-wannabe’s or as socially-obsessed as the I-Have-So-Much-Cash -I-Can-Even-Buy-My-Own-College Sort, but they can sure pass exams with satisfactory results and make friends with anybody.

They are usually the ones you meet and chat with at the 8th floor.

Now that you know us a little further, I hope that every time you go astray our floor, you’ll be ready to deal with us, whichever eccentric variety we belong to.


That might just be the corniest and most ridiculous article you’ve read, so please forgive me. I’m spending more time deriving equations now, so I have resorted into recycling.

XXXxx





After Silence

12 06 2008



This is an article that I wrote for my Expository Writing subject. I just found it amusing after all this time. So here it is:


After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music.

– Aldous Huxley

I love my solitude. Much more if my eardrum-tearing headset accompanies me. And as the border between the silence of the outside world and deafening sounds I hear blur, I find a solace, the sanctuary for my hidden fiascoes. Until now, the invisible bruises on my heart from that experience remain as malignant mementos. I can still remember that life-changing day clearly, as if it just occurred yesterday.

Two days before Valentine’s Day and everything felt normal. And no, this story has nothing to do with love (read: coincidence). I was in my second year in high school and my life was just starting then. I woke up at 5:30 in the morning, as I did everyday. The sun slowly rose. The orange rays passed through the window pane, piercing the darkness, and into my veins to finally wake me up. And it only means one thing—I’m getting late for my Bio class!

So I hurried up and got out of my bed. Fumbling through the house, I finally found my towel and dashed off to the bathroom. Sigh. It was just one of those days wherein I would take the shortest time to bathe myself. Still hasting, I ironed my uniform and wore it even while it’s still hot. Then, I fried an egg and the left-over rice for my breakfast. I may not remember tasting any of those—but at least I can remember swallowing the food. After that, tooth brushing was done fast. Anyway, I’d be in more trouble if I didn’t speed up than for others to see food on my teeth. Soon after, I woke up my mom, asked for my daily allowance, and took-off.

As usual, looking for a tricycle was a task, but fortunately I found one and rode off to school. The high school was crowded that day (as if it wasn’t crowded any day of that school year). Just think of 4,000 people flocking into one gate. Yes, that’s our population.

I wasn’t late, my lucky day—or at least that’s what I thought.

No one can ever persuade me to expound about what happened that day. The grim, the horror, the pain of seeing everyone amuse themselves over something that I will spare you the details of, all those will stay with me. Everywhere I turned, traitors grinned. All of whom I thought were allies cracked up with the others. I was left alone in a sea where the ocean drifts me further and further from the shore. And everyone stared as I slowly drowned.

I got home at sunset. I didn’t weep, weeping is demeaning. And I’m not that weak. But I was left with a scar that never harmed my aesthetics but menaced my soul.

A part of me died that day. But I found a whole new self within me.

My sibling was playing the radio with maximum volume–again. Surprisingly, I found the noise somewhat enjoying. As if it lured me into a deeper sense of joy.

I never really liked the loud banging of the drums, the high-pitched tunes of the guitar, or the synthesizers that then I thought produced weird sounds. That day was different though. Slowly, I flickered my fingers. Then my head started to move. Unconsciously, I was following the beat of music that before was alien to me.

My deep misery was blared by the heavy reverberations of the stereo. Finally, I found something that will never betray me.

Since then, rock music became my very good friend. It helped me cope up with every problem I had. And I have never been happier.

Now, I am more dark, and dark is often misunderstood. People think about absurd things—that listening to that type of music is baneful. They can think as much about me as they want. I don’t really care that much about other people’s thoughts—I have my own anyway. And my own thoughts are the most cardinal for me.

And until today, every time I feel like giving up, I just turn on my music player and pump up the volume. Nothing beats that bliss for me.

And I look again towards the sky as the raindrops mix with the tears I cry.

Anonymous

 

 

 

XXXxx





I Put the I in Thunderstorm

7 06 2008

For the very first time in my life, I knew how drug addicts might have felt after they smoked their first pot.

Don’t you even think of that. I can assure you, I’m perfectly sober.

Last Thursday, I had the best few minutes of my entire woebegone life. I was seated next to the window of the FX/van that I rode in. On my way home, I saw a thunderstorm. Darn! I’m seventeen and that was the first instance that I saw such an amazing display of nature’s wonder. I do not know if something is wrong with me, I have no idea why I was awed by such a thing. Whoa! I felt “high”, as addicts put it. My chest felt vacuous and replete at the same time. It was an alien emotion for me. It might be the bowling session earlier that day, or it might just be my haywire brain cells.

Speaking of bowling, I have no idea how to do it. First of all, I am not into sports. I just know stuff like sports terms and rules since I used to write for the sports page of my high school organ. But the actual game, NADA! I’m dumb when it comes to those testosterone show-offs. Besides, bowling is for rich people, and to start with, I am nowhere near those wealthy men’s status.

So the first week of classes was alright. Almost everything went fine, okay, that’s an understatement. From the first day to the fifth, all things possible went well. It was a thousandfold better than last year’s very embarrassing prime week. The only unpleasing fact is the arrival of the freshmen.

Ampotacles.

Those damn first years are effin’ annoying. We have limited seats at the cafeteria and these young folks just go in and act like it’s theirs only. So me and my block mates ended up not eating lunch at certain days. If I were the dean, I’d ban these freshies from eating. The upper echelon students should have the privilege to reserve tables. I know, it’s really selfish of me. Hakhak.

For those who commented on me transferring or shifting, I do not think that is possible. Electronics and Communications Engineering [Dagisikan at Komunikasyong Inhinyeriya] may be a mathematics-centered course and I happen to hate that specific subject, but my scholarship restricts me. SM Foundation, Inc., Henry Sy, Sr.’s way of giving back, is a very complicated organization. Albeit I am very thankful for the 100% tuition fee discount and the monthly allowance that they provide, I know that this foundation has a deeper and questionable cause of existing, which I will discuss in future posts.

Hakhak.

I’m sure that’s enough for this post, I just hope I see another thunderstorm.

XXXxx





First Day Low

2 06 2008

I thought that I hate my house, but when I went to school today, I realized that I loathed school even more.

Ampotacles.

My nose bled out today. And it bled very very badly. During our primary math subject, Differential Equation, I almost died because of all the numbers and symbols on the board. Everyone was required to go up front and integrate a problem, guess what, my mind went blank. My synapses weren’t working properly. I mean come on, it’s the first day, there isn’t supposed to be any pressure. Oh, but our prof, Miss D., made us all twitch on our seats because only a few got the right answers. What the F!?

I always found myself despising mathematics more and more. God, if I was good in math, I would be studying at the University of the Philippines-Diliman, taking up Creative Writing. When I took the UPCAT(University of the Philippines College Admission Test) I hoped to pass. But after 7 long months of waiting, I found out that I failed. So I received my rejection letter, it had my grades for all the parts. It says there: Reading Comprehension-98; Filipino-89; Language Skills-94; and Mathematics-69.

I almost killed myself after seeing that.

So if you love math, screw you! Well, I haven’t failed any math subjects ever so I’m not so bad. But what the heck am I talking about, I took up Electronics and Communications Engineering and I didn’t expect math? I’m dumb. I just hated myself more.

Me thinks I’ve got to sleep, too many subjects tomorrow.

elyens rak!

XXXxx