Down the Proverbial Time Slip

"Taking time" is not having time but still having gall to mess with it

I would like to apologize for my recent lack of post-age. I have been quite busy with other so, so important things.

If anyone would like to know, I am preparing for my moving to the U.S. I've got; still, a lot of things to prepare and with only two weeks before I leave you could just imagine the utter panic of parental units upon learning that I haven't begun packing yet.

I've been trying to find the time to actually write something down. When I actually find the time to do so, my mind reverts to that of a cave man's, containing nothing but the bare essentials (food, sleep, and procreation. hey I’ am a guy after all!), to be perfectly frank I drew blanks. Not to mention the fact that when I do get inspiration sent by whatever's out there, by the time I sit my fat filled buns on the computer chair, I start looking at my reflection on the computer screen and start saying to myself, "What was I going to write about?!"

I've been reuniting with old friends to and it's cutting in deep, time-wise and not to mention financially. It those thing you cant get out of since it's been so long and you just want them to see just how much you've improved (or visa versa) just so you could rub it all over their face just incase they look like yesterdays digested lunch.

Although the reprisal, is that of which I could barely afford as it is butting in to my life and hobbies, is worth seeing those people before I leave on my semi-permanent stay in the U.S. The fact that I could say goodbye means a whole lot to me. I just wish I didn’t have to leave in two weeks time. I wish I could control time or something just to give me more time. I wish I didn’t hurry this up because I still have to pack winter clothes.

What Again?... What?!?

Water under the bridge is forgotten until somebody jumps in it with concrete shoes

My friend has put to my attention that my spelling bites, very much. I would like to apologize to anyone who might have read anything that has been misspelled. If anyone had the patience to actually read anything I write that is.

I don’t know why but I usually confuse "a" with "e" and sometime "i" with "e". I don’t have any mental disorders it just happens since I spell as I pronounce. That's how my parents thought me how to do it, not that I’m blaming them.

I don’t even know why people have to make such a big fuss about it, anyway. People understand what I' saying, or so I figure. It's not such a big crime is it?

I got to thinking about mistakes, much like my recent encounter with a shaver gone amok. I didn’t notice it and I’ve been walking around with the crookedness on my face. If little things like this bother the heck out of me, how about bigger issues, you might ask.

I usually forget much of anything incredibly stupid I might have done over my half lived life. There’s not much to go on really. I didn’t like making mistakes but you really can’t help making them do you. Like everyone else, I'm just a lowly, scum of the earth human.

I try my best to forget about them but every once and a while you get nostalgia, I hate that. When that happens, I take one of my closed fists and knock myself on the head, hard. I hate that I do stupid things. I couldn’t take the utter dim-wittedness of the matter.

Someone once told me that people who do that have got identity issues. Does that carry truth?

I feel that everyone’s entitled to their own way of redemption. Some use money, some talk, some give favors, but isn’t all of it just to make us feel better about what we did wrong, some weird form of closure. I think that gives me the right to hit myself whenever I feel the urge to, doesn't it?

I could just stop typing and deal with the entire typo issue by editing my stuff but the truth is I’d rather not. So, hence this recent post. I have found closure...

This Little Piggy Went Swheee All the Way Home

If power corrupts, those guys must be devils.

I had to wait a while before I wrote this down. I wouldn’t want to be a raving angry monkey while I wrote this. Might scare off my almost non-existent readers.

I went to a mall near my old colldge; I met a few friends there. Started well enough, had a few drinks, talked a while, then went to G-box (a karaoke bar) and sang a few songs.

We had a blast singing stuff there, although, most of them were studying because it was prelim week but they still recognized the moments they should laugh. That’s what I like about them.

They had to leave early, they were going to be late for their examinations, so I finished up all the songs they didn't get to sing. Don’t get me wrong I enjoyed all of it. For once I didn’t feel the need to be embarrassed about my voice because there were people in the room. I actually got decent scores, better than what they got really... hehehehehwe.

After finishing the songs I hung out at San Francisco coffee, read a book I had wanted to finish. I killed time there because they were going to get dismissed at around five or six thirty in the evening. Although I got bored at around three in the afternoon, so I decided to go to back to the old college and see if anyone I knew was dismissed early.

I found a few, started talking, hanging around. I saw a few policemen in front of the gates. I didn’t know why but I took it as a good sign though. I always thought those guys were a bunch of free loading lug heads. I noticed that my friends were going out of the campus gates at around past five. It was turning to be a very good day but life's got a way of biting down on you hard right in the buttocks when you least expect it.

The policemen started approaching several students for no apparent reason, didn’t really disturb me or anything. I didn’t have anything to hide. I stood up said goodbye to people I was talking to and approached my friends we were under the shed that was right in front of our collage when a policeman approached. He, in an arrogant tone of voice, asked me if I was a student of the college. I’m not one for lying to the police so I answered "I used to be."

Then the throbbing mass of thickness yelled at me to go home or he would arrest me for stuff. I couldn't repeat his allegation because I don’t know the translation to English but my brother-in-law said it had to do with searching suspicious individuals and curfews.

My first thought was "W.T.F?" (Please excuse this there's no other term for it.) I knew my rights and I know they can't just do that. I wanted to defend myself but my friends just urged me to go home rather than fight a good fight. Although they just said "Okay Patrick, see you some other time." I could see that they thought it wasn't worth having a criminal record over. I was appalled!

That’s the reason these kind of people push us around. The police exist to protect the people not boss us around like they own everything. I wish I had a gun.

I just left. I didn’t want to be there. Two sides of the coin becoming one wasn't a really pretty sight. Like seeing heaven and hell merge into one big booze party. I could gag.

I went home and told my mom who hardly seemed to care. Even blamed the way that I dress for what happened. I could name 3 people who were dressed exactly like me. It just made me more upset.

I had a cup of tea and stayed up later than usual. Then just watched a movie about anarchy on HBO. It had instructions on making homemade bombs. Hmmm... now there's an idea.

Squirts...

When presenting make sure you’re presentable.

My over religious mother has once again succeeded in dragging me into another reflection but this time she dragged almost everyone in the family.

I don’t understand why my mum has to be such a catholic buff. I from what I discerned; if God wanted her to throw herself over a cliff lined with jagged rocks shed do it.

Anyway, it wasn’t as bad as I would have liked it. Not that I got to know them any better, maybe a little but not enough to write biographies or something. It was the first time we laughed together though. I haven’t seen that in a long time. It was nice. I almost gagged.

The guy doing the lecturing was supposed to be a priest and a professor at the Ateneo University. It explains why I was completely bored. I’m allergic to professors.

He made some sense from what he said. Of course, most of what he said went right thru my head. Hey I'm still a teenager; you can’t blame me for short attention span.

He had a lot of illusions about strengthening the family equates a stronger country. Bunch of bull if you ask me. It’s like saying patriotism will keep governments running, like trying to tighten screws with a monkey and a wrench.

He asked us to sight things that made our lives be lived in darkness, I felt the sudden urge to express myself but my parental units would have probably bleed profusely from trying to contain their rage.

He wanted us to do a stage play kind of thing to show the others how we could get around those things. I wanted to run away. I ended up with a not so "look at me" role. Being in the background ensures no bad reviews but don’t expect any raves.

We represented how things are supposed to be in the house, like everyone’s to busy, etc. and my mother would come in ask that we all pray but we had to do stuff. She then faints, then my dad says lets pray over her then we prayed. Personally, I would have taken her to the hospital.

The lector went back up and said some stuff again, this time I wasn't listening. I wanted to fall asleep right there on my mono block chair. My eyeballs started to drift down towards the floor. Then I noticed something, the priest's fly was open.