Posted in BloodRazor

19: Nocturnal Companions

It just finished raining here, and the road’s still glistening with rainwater. Hopefully tomorrow there won’t be any more downpours, but with this tropical storm up north, I think that’s wishful thinking. The moonlight is hidden within a stratum of clouds, but I feel it’s there, just the same.

Ever since the wind stopped listening to me, I’ve talked to the moon every night. Before, when I had to talk to someone and everyone else is already asleep, I step onto the balcony and wait for the chilly night wind to blow. Then I talk. I talk about events, my feelings, my thoughts. And the wind always listened. It blew on my skin, made my hairs stand on end, and wrapped around me. Whenever I’d come and visit my relatives in Laguna, they’d always find me on the rooftop, talking to the wind. That rooftop was one place where I felt my emotions unfold uncontrollably.

The cool, evening wind listened to me talk about Kenshin, about my friends, about my Grade 9 life. But most of all, the wind loved to listen to me talk about Ella. Whenever I mention her name, the wind would shift ever so slightly.

But since that day, the last time I went there, the wind had stopped listening. The trees didn’t sway, the leaves didn’t rustle. The wind didn’t blow.

That was when the clouds made way for the full moon. It shone its silver light upon me. And I felt comforted by its presence. So I decided to talk to the moon.

The wind left me. But in its place, you’ve come. A new companion in the night. The moon.

At times, the clouds would hide its light, but I come out and talk anyway. Even if I couldn’t see it, I can feel its glowing presence, taking me into its comforting embrace. It makes me feel as if I can connect my thoughts and feelings to that one person.

At night when the stars light up my room
I sit by myself
Talking to the moon, trying to get to you
In hopes you’re on the other side, talking to me too
Or am I a fool, who sits alone
Talking to the moon.
This is your lonely blogger The EnglishRazor, logging off.

 

Posted in BloodRazor

18: Megaton Punch

A stressful evening, people. I was trying to summon up some emotions so I could write some really good material, but the emotional well was mysteriously empty. So I just decided to rant about something every MaScian can relate to.

Before we start, what is it with my title? What is Megaton Punch? Why Megaton Punch? I’ll answer these questions one by one.

Megaton Punch is a Normal-type move from Pokemon. In the FireRed and LeafGreen games, it is better known as the move Mega Punch, taught by a Move Tutor just outside the Mt. Moon cave exit. It deals a considerable amount of damage to the opponent, but in return, it has low accuracy. In the Pokemon: Origins anime, Red taught his Charizard this move, and used it multiple times; in his battle against Blue’s Blastoise and again in his death battle with Mewtwo. This same move took down Mewtwo, allowing Red to capture it.

I used to love this move. But now, for me, it has taken on a completely different meaning.

Nowadays, high school students are forced to do multiple schoolwork in such a short amount of time. In science high schools, this weight is undoubtedly doubled, tripled even. I mean, come on. In almost every subject, there’s either an assignment, project or both that must be passed in the same week. And the only given time is 30 hours, at least. If you’re tough enough for an all-nighter, then you’ve got 48 hours.

We wake up at 4, 5 am everyday, stay in school for almost 12 hours, and sleep at 11 pm. 10, if we’re lucky enough. And don’t talk about time management. What, we divide three hours into 10 different subjects? 18 minutes for each subject? There are chores to be done, siblings to watch over, other problems to take care of. Then they add 2 more years of this suffering, just so we can “move forward”. Yeah, right. They add two years of high school then won’t give as much as a single penny to support us. “Move forward”. Pssh.

This, coupled with the occasional stress from friends, home and society, makes a high school student suffer even more than a working adult. A true Megaton Punch, straight into a high school student. But this time, the accuracy is a hundred percent, and it critically strikes.

What will we do?

What will the government do?

What will this wretched country do for the next generation?

Suffer, as what we have always done? Sometimes I want to go up to those who are in charge of this whole thing and give them a Megaton Punch to the face.

This is your awfully stressed blogger The EnglishRazor, logging off.

 

Posted in BloodRazor

17: Guilt

I hate it when my efforts are being wasted. I worked so hard for something, and then all of a sudden, it’s not needed anymore. Effort is something that must be recognized and appreciated, not taken for granted and thrown aside like a chocolate wrapper.

So now I feel guilty for not recognizing other people’s hard work. I didn’t notice it, that in the past few days, contrary to what I was saying a few weeks ago, I only cared about myself, about what I would feel. I failed to see others’ efforts. And now that I see how much of a selfish person I’ve become, I’ve abhorred myself. This isn’t you. You are not selfish. You always share. You care about others… even if they don’t care about you. You even care about the people you hate.

It is true, that I just want the person to be happy, contented. I don’t even care if other people say I’m just going to get even more hurt. Please, I am the embodiment of hurt. I feel strange comfort in suffering.

But recently, my heart has been betraying me, planting selfish, immoral thoughts in my head. Don’t care about others. You’ve been hurt too much.

However, it is in my nature to care. I cannot possibly force myself to simply not care about other people, even if I hate them. A strange, automatic command in my brain makes me think, what do you think he/she would feel if you said or did this to him/her?

 

Posted in BloodRazor

16: A Fragment of the Past

It’s unusually early for me to write a post, but at times, certain improvisations must be made. I’m usually more productive during what I call “twilight hours”, from 10 pm to 2 am. That is, once I get past the sleepiness.

But enough of that. Earlier, while in the jeep, I was thinking about my life. Not that my life is interesting. It’s just a bundle of disappointments, suffering, enduring, shattered trusts, you name it. I feel as if I’ve never really achieved anything great in my life yet, unless you count my graduating as salutatorian. Anyway, while passing by Manila City Hall, two male college students rode the jeep and paid their fare with a twenty. What happened next was embarrassing.

College student 1: Bro bayad mo to. *passes twenty to his friend*

College student 2: Bayad ho, isang Dimasalang, isang Blumentritt.

Driver’s wife: *gives a weird look at the college student* Isang Blumentritt, isang Dimasalang?

College student 2: Opo. Bakit?

Driver’s wife: *smiles*

College student 1: Bro, nasa Blumentritt ang Dimasalang.

College student 2: Ah, ganun ba…

It took all I had not to laugh out loud. I felt pity for the college student and felt like sleeping. But before I buried my face in my bag, a high school student came in the jeep. It took me a full three seconds to recognize him. I raised my hands and snapped a finger in his face.

“So di mo na ako naaalala?” I half-smiled.

“Bro, paupo.” I moved aside so he could sit beside me.

His hair had grown thicker, his face harder. But the glint of mischief that he had in elementary never left his eyes, however it was dulled. He had grown some height during those years that I haven’t seen him. I clearly remember him being an inch shorter than me during graduation, but now he seemed to be taller-I couldn’t tell.

It was Axel Jan S. Suyom, my very first friend from school and also, my first best friend. He still studies at PNU-CTL, or ITL, rather. We first met 11 years ago, in the Kinder 1 room in PNU. Through 8 years, we stayed close friends, until I had to leave PNU and go to MaSci. Of my 31 classmates from PNU, only Jillian and Thea came to MaSci with me. I had so much memories with Axel, like that time in the elevator, at the pond, out in the field, virtually everywhere in PNU.

We talked about school, my house, compared the weight of projects and assignments, talked about our elementary friends. He seemed more reserved, though I think he was just being polite to me. Polite? Sheesh. We played together in the elevator and almost got caught. We played dodgeball and he always beat my ass at it. Well, his team. Andre, James and Benjamin were pretty good at throwing and catching. All I was good at was dodging.

Anyway, the time came when I had to leave. As I was walking home, I wondered about my elementary friends, how they were doing, and if they miss me. I thought about Jeremiah, to whom I always told my secrets. I thought about Mickaela, the girl who managed to take the valedictorian title from me. I thought about Mrs. Calamlam, our Grade 6 adviser. I thought about everyone from my past, everything I did, everything I was.

As I stepped into the lobby, I swore to myself that one day I would come and visit them. I was the Class President, anyway. Well, this is your salutatorian blogger The EnglishRazor, taking a much-needed break.

Posted in Stories

15: An Image of Perfection part 2

The next day, I came to school early as usual. Once I got inside the Amadome, I set my bag by the Amadome’s last pillar, the one in front of the entrance to Lover’s Lane. This habit of mine started since July, and it hasn’t faded since. At times I refer to it as “my pillar” though no one really understands why.

Like always, I was scanning the students entering, when she appeared. My best friend, in all her glory. She seemed brighter today. There was a spring to her step. Her smile was impossibly perfect. She was radiating the aura of happiness, and I wondered who could be able to do such a miraculous thing. I had my answer a few seconds later.

A few steps behind her, he followed. His hair was neatly swept up, his jacket draped across his back. He seemed to radiate the same aura as her, but his was more manly. His smile was one of pure joy, and I couldn’t help but wonder… this is how much they like each other?

“No. They love each other.” I said out loud, not caring if anyone heard me.

She passed by me and gave me a happy grin then went on. He followed and nodded at me. Together they sat beside each other somewhere in the front of the line. Yasmin was talking with Maowell. Jayzer was laughing with Jetka. Ice was holding Hannah.

And I was standing there, alone, without anyone to talk to, much less feel comfort with. I clenched my fists and bowed my head. This is your fate. Accept it.

But as I took a second look at everyone, my mind rejected my thought. Maowell was whispering something in Yasmin’s ear. Jayzer was draping his jacket over Jetka. Ice was smiling at Hannah. He and she were holding hands while laughing. This is unfair. You don’t deserve to be mocked like this. 

Your fault. You let go of the only girl who ever loved you.

I didn’t let go! She was-

We are not having this argument again!

I didn’t mean Ella!

That.. girl? She was never mine to begin with! And all I wanted was for her to be happy! Nothing more!

And look where your kind self got you now.

I lost the argument. Suddenly I felt a surge of hatred fill me. They didn’t deserve to be happy. Maowell doesn’t deserve someone like Yasmin. Jayzer and Jetka aren’t for each other. Ice and Hannah will break up soon. And them… I became jealous of everyone. Yasmin is in my squad, Maowell. Jetka, Jayzer is part of The Circle and you’re not. Hannah, Ice is Copernicus. And you… she’s my best friend. I used to be beside her, not you. Where were you when she needed you? Nowhere. I was there, not you. Murderous thoughts filled my head.

“Calm down.” A hand clapped on my shoulder.

I turned. “Nii-chan?”

He stepped closer and hugged me. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here. Hush now.” Kenshin’s baritone voice filled my ears. His presence made my hatred crumble to dust, leaving my raw emotions fully exposed. I hugged him back and buried my face into his chest. He held on as my tears overflowed.

“Nii… chan…” I cried.

“It’s okay. I’m here now. I won’t leave you.” He stroked my hair. I held on and cried, feeling guilty for being jealous, feeling guilty for thinking those thoughts.

“There, there. I’ll always be here if you need me,” he whispered as I broke down.

 

Posted in Poems

14: The Jabberwocky

‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!”

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought-
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

“And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!’
He chortled in his joy.

‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

This poem was made by Lewis Carroll for his novel, Through The Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There. It has many gibberish words that cannot be found in the English dictionary, but still give off a hint of English-ness. I find this poem very intriguing and relaxing, even though I cannot understand much of the words used.

However, this time I took the liberty of finding out what the words meant, and here’s some of them:

Brillig – means 4:00 pm, around the time when people broil food for dinner. Brillig can be derived from the verb “broil”.

Slithy – a mix of “lithe” and “slimy”.

Manxome – possibly “fearsome”.

Frumious – a mix of “fuming” and “furious”.

I used to think that Carroll just pulled these words out of thin air, but apparently most of them do have real meanings. Sometimes, things that appear nonsensical at first glance apparently have deeper meanings, all you have to do is look into it a little more. This is your manxome blogger The EnglishRazor, taking a short break.

 

Posted in Stories

13: An Image of Perfection

It was the 18th of January, year 2017. The sun was blazing bright, a perfect day for good events. I was feeling lazy, with the afternoon sun beating down upon the entire school. As luck would have it, the teachers had a meeting in Alzona Hall, so we had three hours of freedom. At least, that’s what I thought until our Science teacher left us with some work. How bothersome…

I left the Amadome to go and get myself a drink from the canteen. My throat had been sore for several weeks now. Upon reaching the canteen, I met nii-chan. As usual, I hugged him-our way of greeting.

“Nii-chan!” I called out in a child-like voice.

“Hey, where are you staying?” he asked.

“At the Amadome. I just went here to get a drink.”

“Oh sure, I’ll wait for you.” He patiently waited as I purchased a C2, which I rarely do. A look at my phone told me it was 11:11. Maybe they’re done changing by now, I thought. I hurried back to the Amadome with Shin-niichan.

I was out of breath when I got back. My eyes roamed the place. Her bag was beside another bag that I didn’t recognize. What? Who’s she hanging out with? I wondered. From behind me, Eli appeared with a grin on her face. And it wasn’t a simple smile. She looked like she won the lottery or something. Nii-chan had just appeared by the Amadome, trying to catch his breath.

“Eli? What’s up?” I asked.

“Look there.” She pointed by the entrance to the Lover’s Lane. Like clockwork, a girl and a boy appeared, both smiling, laughing, holding hands. The boy was tall, a little bit taller than me, with hair swept upwards and a dark but handsome complexion. Over all, he was considered “handsome”. He was holding a water bottle that was opened. Beside him was the girl, a few inches shorter than him. She had her hair tied back with a dark blue hair tie, and she had a fair skin, contrasting the boy beside him. But the difference only made them look more perfect for each other.

As they stepped into the sunlight, the girl laughed and the boy smiled. At that moment, I caught the image of perfection. The image of love.

I watched until they got back to their bags and sat down. They continued to talk, not giving a care to the world. They seemed truly happy to have each other again. Our hard work had paid off well.

Nii-chan came up behind me. “So are we going to eat or are you going to stand there all day staring at them?”

I took one last good look at them. I smiled contentedly before turning around to have my lunch with my own best friend.

“Have fun, imoto-chan.”

Posted in BloodRazor

12: Lines from the Head of State

Hmm… I should start making my introductions more creative instead of the perfunctory “Yes, hello, good evening” greeting. I’ll think about it.

So, earlier this day, His Excellency, President Rodrigo R. Duterte delivered his very first SONA, or State of the Nation Address. His speech was the longest first SONA in the history of the Philippines, with a total length of one hour and 32 minutes, including his ad libs and the clapping. (Who counts the clapping as part of the speech? That’s just… whatever.)

I have listed down five amazing lines our President has spoken.

1: “We must have the courage to fight for what we believe.”

I fully agree, Mr. President. In every battle fought on this 4.5 billion year old planet, courage has always been the key in order to keep going. For you to keep fighting for what you believe in, you must have the courage to do it. The courage to risk yourself to attain your deepest desire. The courage to fight for your feelings even if everyone else is adamantly against it.

2. “Courage knows no limits; cowardice does.”

Well said, but I have trouble digging the meaning of this. However, I will try to explain it to the best of my abilities. From my point of view, the President is trying to convene to us that with courage, we can do anything we want, everything we want to achieve. But with cowardice, all we can do is cower, run and hide from our problems. And so for our President, cowardice is never an option.

3. “We cannot move forward if we allow the past to pull us back.”

This is by far his best line, at least for me. If we let our past drag us around and let it control us, then how are we supposed to move on in life? The things that have happened in the past, be it horrible or memorable, they’re just memories now. They serve to teach a lesson, to remind you so you will not forget, not to haunt you and control your current actions. You cannot possibly move forward if the chains of the past are restraining you. You have to move on, shatter the chains, and keep going. All you can do is to look back, reflect and keep going forward, whatever may come.

4. “No amount of cash assistance or the number of medals can compensate the loss of a human life.”

President Duterte mentioned this after speaking about the internal conflict between the rogue forces in Mindanao and the Armed Forces of the Philippines. It is true: your father or hubby may have been honored and awarded with medals, your family given cash assistance, but that does not change the fact that your father or hubby is dead. Gone. And no number of money or golden medals can bring him back. Gone means gone; and that means you can never, ever get him back again.

5. “Sorrow cuts across every stratum of society. It cuts deeply and the pain lasts forever.”

Apologies, but I kind of forgot which kind of sorrow the President was talking about here. But let’s generalize it. According to the President, “sorrow cuts across every stratum of society.” According to the Merriam-Webster’s English Dictionary, stratum means layers, indicating that sorrow strikes everyone in society, from the richest businessman to the poorest beggar. Sorrow has the power to leave a person stricken and unable to think, blanketed with darkness and loneliness. It can strike deep, like a samurai’s sword. The blood gushes forth, and the pain will be intense, nerve-wrecking, and even though it may heal, the pain will never leave our memories. It will stay there as a reminder to us.

Whew, that took a lot out of me. So, I managed to rant while providing information at the same time. Talk about multi-tasking. But hey, I’m the God of Cramming, so it’s no big feat. (I’m respectfully bragging.) Anyway, it’s getting pretty late, so sayonara. This is your political individual The EnglishRazor, logging off. Jaa ne-ttebayo. *winks*

Posted in BloodRazor

11: The Power to Believe

A pleasant evening, everyone. Well, not so pleasant for others. I’m currently stressed out, from emotional pressure, academic pressure, and family pressure.

I decided to funnel the emotional disturbance into motivation and energy for me to finish my assignments. This is one thing that has always baffled me: how can so much emotional stress, e.g. pain, grief, hurt, be transformed into overflowing energy? It’s like the emotional equivalent of Einstein’s theory of Relativity.

But we’re not here to talk about conversion of matter into energy. Or my assignments.

If you lost your laptop, somewhere in a train station or at school, what would you do? Of course, you’d search for it high and low. You’d ask your friends to help you look for it. And you won’t stop until you get it back. When you lose something, two forces begin to act on your mind: the power to give up, to forget everything about it and just find a new one. This force subconsciously plants thoughts in your mind. You can just get a new laptop. That old one was damaged, anyway. It’s not worth the trouble.

Then there’s the power to believe. Early on, this power is most powerful. This power pushes you to seek what was lost and try to reclaim it. Like the power to give up, this also plants thoughts into your head. A new laptop costs too much. I had too much pictures and music and games in that laptop. It’s worth the trouble, after all.

However, as time drags on, the power to give up slowly grows and consumes the power to believe. There comes a point when the power to believe is almost gone, and it takes effort just to assure yourself.

This concept, which I thought of, can be applied to virtually anything you have lost, with the exception of death. However, the power balance may vary depending on the loss. If it was only a pen, the power to believe will only be there for a moment, and then the power to give up fully consumes it-unless you really need the pen. But if it was something that was important-let’s say your phone-the power to believe will dwarf the power to give up. But both powers do not just work subconsciously. You can also force yourself to strengthen either one.

You can only achieve as much as you believe. The power to believe is a strong power indeed, but it will only be as powerful as your own will to keep it going. This is your believing blogger The EnglishRazor, logging off.

 

 

Posted in BloodRazor

10: Dreams

Still the same nice evening, minna-san. I couldn’t sleep, and I still had some writing energy, so I’m not going to waste it.

So this time, I’ll use the first topic I saved: dreams.

What dreams? Dreams as in the one you want to be when you grow up? Your goal in life? maybe your future hubby/wifey? No, sir. It’s the literal dream; the ones you get while you sleep.

I thought about this idea while in the shower. I just woke up and I managed to remember a good piece of my dream. I already forgot it now, but at that time, I was thinking, how are dreams made? I don’t want to get all scientific, so I’ll get straight to my point.

When we dream, we see things that are perfectly normal to us in the dream, but once we wake up and remember it, it appears as if the whole thing was impossible. Surreal. When I dream, sometimes I see people, things or places that I already know (in the dream), but when I wake up, I’m all like What the heck was that? Where is that place? Do I really know that person?

This whole thing makes me think that maybe our imaginations are at their most powerful when we are asleep, when our brain is not fed with any information. It has freedom, and no amount of mental chains can hold it down (of course, except when we wake up).

And also, whenever I’m close to waking up, I gain control over myself in the dream, and in some cases, I can recognize that Oh hey, it’s a dream. I can do what I want. It feels good to be able to control your dream, but yeah… in the end, it’s still just a dream. This is your dreamy blogger, The EnglishRazor, logging off once again.