Happy birthday. We miss you always.

“I realized these were all the snapshots which our children would look at someday and wonder, thinking their parents had lived smooth well-ordered lives and got up in the morning to walk proudly on the sidewalks of life, never dreaming the raggedy madness and riot, of our actual lives, our actual night, the hell of it, the senseless nightmare road.  Juices inform the world, children never know.”

-Jack Kerouac, On The Road

Inspired by surprise-schoolmate Cher and by her Blast from the Past post, I decided to do some digging:

Here’s from first year:

I – St. Bernadette 1998 – 1999

Here’s from second year:

II – St. Mark 1999 – 2000

…and that’s all I have.

I have physical copies of all my class pictures — but I don’t have the means to transfer ‘em into digitized form. (Also, I cut class and just joined up with my classmates for the 4th year class picture — almost not making it, lulz.)  Anyway, Junior/Senior year were a haze to me — I was mostly out of school then.  If you read my previous High School blog post, or know me from highschool, then you probably already know that I almost didn’t graduate. 

Generally, I don’t see 99% of my batchmates from highschool on a regular basis, ‘cept for Mikko, who was only my classmate for freshman year.

As for changes?  I think I mostly look the same — ‘cept for the hair, work-related eye bags and maybe added height?  High school’s still a blast, and things could only get SO MUCH BETTER. 

From the executive producer of The O.C., Terminator: Salvation!

Is it ever a terrible thing — to maybe see (and expect) a piece of creative work to be horribad/terrific based solely on the previous works of whoever’s responsible?  Then again, for an after-school special, I WATCHED The O.C.

Right off the bat — I didn’t fancy Salvation — not that the franchise isn’t moving along as it should, but as Terminator fans, we’ve been spoiled by The Sarah Connor Chronicles.  That show is just so GOOD — raising expectations for a movie — you know, those things with the bigger budgets, bigger-named stars and just generally bigger resources (save for the amount of time for storytelling) to BE more than what a tv show is limited to.

For me, Salvation is pretty confused.  Is it a movie about John Connor kicking ass?  Is it a movie about new character Marcus being introduced, so that he could kick ass?  Is it a movie about Kyle Reese growing into his own?  Is it about a rebellion?  Is it about … Salvation?  That’s where it falls apart, for me — there’s only so much screentime, and too many stories to tell.  They did plan on creating a trilogy of these new Terminator films, so there’s still plenty of room, but really, would it have been possible to tell the story without, say, one of the x number of plot points?

We spend the first third (and a half!) of the film semi-guessing if it is, indeed, John-Connor-unleashing-some-Bale-istic fury unto the (presumably) hordes and hordes of Terminator units — instead, it’s about Marcus Wright, slowly demystifying for us, the audience, what he’s there for. His discovery?  —  a plot twist some must’ve seen coming, but serves as an interesting philosophical/ethical/moral dillema.  You’ll get it, if you watch it.

What makes the Terminator franchise so interesting, for me, at least — is the use of time travel as a plot device.  Is the Terminator timeline so convoluted with all the time jumps, and the movies, and the series?  YES.  Does it make for interesting robot-hunt-man technophobia?  YES.  Was it awesome seeing the same photograph from the first film, seeing John Connor listen to the tapes, references to “I’ll be back,” and “Come with me if you want to live”?  YES.  So why does Salvation keep forgetting several things already established in the previous movies?

Isn’t John Connor the founder of the rebellion?  Isn’t he a “good leader,” according to Reese from the first film?  Why does he have to defer to men in submarines?  Why does it take a hit from a shovel to make holes in Skynet’s flying dropship’s walls?  Why does disabling the “North Turret” (just one turret?!  really?) allow everyone to escape?  Where are the hordes of these Terminators?  We see 2 — 3 (if we’re lucky) T-600 units, and a giant monster-mech-of-sorts — and that’s it.  No more army of Terminators trying to eat you for breakfast.  These and several other questions remain suspended in the air.

Also, what is a Moon Bloodgood?  Kind of like a name to take if you want shiny vampires going out for your blood. :p

2/5

Also, in the trailer?  “We end this tonight!”  NO.  They did not end it that night, or on any nights close to that.  There’re two more movies to maybe sort that out — ’til then, watch it if you like seeing faces melted off, exposed robot endoskeleton underneath.

***

Also, here’s what John Connor was up to for the first 2/3rds of the film:

“I realized these were all the snapshots which our children would look at someday and wonder, thinking their parents had lived smooth well-ordered lives and got up in the morning to walk proudly on the sidewalks of life, never dreaming the raggedy madness and riot, of our actual lives, our actual night, the hell of it, the senseless nightmare road.  Juices inform the world, children never know.”

-Jack Kerouac, On The Road

Partially inspired by one of Mikko’s plurks, this is going to be a couple of stories from high school, as I remember them.

(How I spent high school)

At 16, I was the star of a teenage comedy.  Staying up way too late, cutting class more times than your average absentee, spending evenings in Makati and catching up with schoolwork when no one was looking.

Class Starts

Two days before Senior year started, I got a scar on my lower back.  This should’ve served as an ominous portent of what was to come.  Should I ever classify things in my life as best-slash-worst, Senior year would be at the top.

At the time of course, I had no knowledge of how good things were going to get, only that I was living the moment, looking towards the West of my future, not concerned at how certain actions would haunt me later on.

I was finally going to be classmates with some of my favorite people — and I ask, where are they now in my life?  One I had cut away from my life, the other is in the US and one has a family now somewhere far, far away.

A month after class started, one of my buds, of whom I’ll call EM, hit some douche on the head with a two-by-two wood block.  He got expelled.

Me, Mikko and JC were constantly skipping C.A.T. — of which, later on, I would get formally exempted from, with the option of getting to take the final exam.  The internet cafe was a booming business, and we would spend a large part of our after-school hours in some of them.

Kash and I was discovering music beyond the radio, finding bands obscurer than the name of that cafeteria lady nun who was always frowning at us during gradeschool recess time.

I had no particular idea of what I wanted to be after school, which, most kids my age faced at the time — and most times the answers weren’t even in the classroom.

Cutting Class

Now this was an art.  My streak started on September 3rd, 2001.  (Not that I remember the exact dates exactly, but some of the older photos had dates for filenames.)  There was unusual traffic in the plaza area (and you’d have to pass by here to get to my school) — the Antipolo interschool competition had just started that day — schools from all over the area were congregating to a common area, the one by our school, and, as you could imagine, should an area you’d have to pass through got filled with students from different schools, it was hell for someone to get through … most especially if they were late for class already.  (Me!)

I was on my way to school when I saw … a girl from elementary, and at which instant, I decided to skip class … wouldn’t want to be late again anyway.  I also saw Archie, one of my first friends from Freshmen year, he had transferred to another school in Sophomore year, and was now representing his school for Taekwondo.  Since the schools didn’t want their students to be cutting class to watch (and support) their respective school’s competitive spirit, only the actual participants for the interschool competition were allowed to be at the opening ceremony and the events.

I stood in line behind some other school that had a similar uniform to ours, (white polo + navy blue pants) switching the position of my bag strap from the right to the left, to cover up my school’s patch.  I was now part of the opening ceremony, carefully avoiding eye contact from any teachers.

After that, I hung out with Archie and a couple of my friends, of whom were about to leave for other schools for their events.  That afternoon, my friend JC asked me why I wasn’t around that day, so I told him where I was — the next day, we were together evading capture and watching the cheering competition.  (JC is my role model for evading class — during Freshmen year he was gone for 3/4th of the whole school year!  Ask him how to escape in the PE room/men’s CR window/2nd floor and he’ll do it — you’ll never see him again ’til the afternoon or the next day.)

(Interschool, day 2, you wouldn’t have been able to see this if you were in class — Jaimee’s somewhere in that picture)

After that, we’d retreat to Mikko’s house for Playstation, DVDs, TV or naps.  The rest of the week, me, JC and Archie were making rounds at different schools, choosing events that OUR school didn’t participate in.  We watched the Taekwondo and chess events, then we retreated to each of our homes.  None of us dropped by in any of the nearby gaming cafes (that had no coffee) — so nobody ever busted us on that.

(THIS is how I spent high school, face down in somebody else’s house.)

(JC to the left, Archie to the right.)

There was even a time that I had cut too much class that, upon returning to school, I saw that they had created a new seating arrangement, WITHOUT MY NAME ON IT, and the classroom was missing a chair.  A little later on, several of my classmates would cut class with me — and just before graduation they’d be the ones worrying about my absences.  We would all hang out at Mikko’s house, or that top-secret, out-of-the-way computer shop and yes, sometimes, even the cemetery.  (Ugh.)

I could tell you about the time that I cut class during our recollection, or graduation practice, or that time I jumped X-window and made a run for it, or that time when my locker key fit into the rear gate’s padlock, but that would be stories for another time.  I’ll just say that ever since that first week of September 2001, I NEVER COMPLETED A SCHOOL WEEK ‘TIL GRADUATION.  Which amounted to roughly two full months that I wasn’t in school.  Not that a stack of warning/excuse slips thick as a deck of cards is something to be proud of.

To quote my Physics teacher, “MARINDUQUE!  Kung ‘di ka absent, tulog ka naman sa klase ko!”

Underachiever

In which card day does no teacher utter the words, “matalino naman po ang anak nyo, tamad lang mag-aral / your kid has the smarts — he’s just too lazy to study?”

As mentioned, I cut a lot of classes, so my grades for the second quarter plummetted to earth, leaving a mark on the ground in the form of a report card.

I never did my homework.  I passed most of my exams.  I did make-up projects.  I didn’t actively participate in class, because in my mind, the teachers would catch on if someone too active just abruptly disappeared the next day.

I never did typing class (because I’d eat my recess by then, a whole period early, with the elementary kids), I never did the OJT project and I never got beyond buying some material from Quiapo for my feasibility report.  How the hell did I graduate?

I skipped the working hard part, and worked smart.  Thinking about it — I wish I paid more attention.  No use for regrets though, since I made it past high school — and college — and the present me has undergone several lectures, seminars and self-help shits to know that I’m good and happy and lucky to be alive.  (Some things you just won’t learn in a classroom, dreading that quiz in the afternoon.)

Having grades in Math of 74,74,74,75 would later bite me in the ass — I had to learn EVERYTHING to take on college math — you know, the type with letters?  (Did I mention that my math teacher during senior year is a relative?)

Suspension

I got suspended for a unique crime (at the time) — of which I wouldn’t discuss openly.  :p I spent those three days not-in-school mostly at Mikko’s house, hanging out with Jaimee, because she got late for school that one time, or snoozing at home.  I was set to go back in school during the very same week … but I decided — why not complete the whole week?  I think we watched Shrek on DVD that last day, while my class was having a quiz.

Drinking

I once heard this terrifying story from Kash about someone washing her face in her own vomit in drunkenness — although apparently that didn’t stop me from bringing the booze for our section’s planned drinking session at Christine’s house.

Let’s just say my bag fell from the jeep, smashed the bottles inside — making all my things soggy with the smell of alcohol.  We had to round up something else to drink when we got there.

(This is all that I usually carried in my backpack — I left most of my notebooks/textbooks at home — they were heavy!)

Of course, being drunk was only two years old for me at the time — my first drink at 14.  My classmates usually had these drinking sessions, only, I wasn’t around to be invited to most of ‘em.

Makati evenings

I’d describe how to make Makati and back in under 100 pesos, but it still baffles me that I spent most of my afternoons in FX rides past Tikling, Cainta, Pasig, Mandaluyong, Makati … and back.

Not that it would matter in a year or so, after 2002 — long story.

Graduation

I had a blood pact with two of my friends (who cut class as/more frequently than I did) on which school we’d transfer to, since graduation was looking pretty grim — during the one and only time that I attended graduation practice, my name was called out to the front — at this point I was wondering how I’d tell my mother that I wasn’t going to make it — surprise, surprise, I was told that I’d be offering the diplomas for the baccalaureate mass.  (Which basically stood for: You’re graduating, m’boy!)

I got my toga + cap after that little talk … and promptly climbed out the men’s CR window to play Worms: Armageddon, hakuna matata-style.

-Of course there are still stories left out — about psycho bitches, weirdo teachers, asshole fiends and the SICK DEGREES OF SEPARATION — but that’d be for another time, plus, I was trying out this free-running prose thing.

Happy birthday, you.

…and to think the last time I saw her was just a couple of months ago. The part that hurts more is finding out through the daily news; and getting told that the other station showed censored shots of the crime scene, like a twisted version of CSI — only, horrifyingly real.

I have to force myself to think properly. And with that focus, maybe I’ll narrow my vision just enouth to fool myself into thinking that I’m doing something other than thinking about it.

Logic tells me that it’s wrong to make my lungs and liver pay for what happened, but my brain just can’t forget.

http://www.gmanews.tv/story/51171/Estranged-father-kills-2-kids-self-in-Antipolo

http://newsinfo.inquirer.net/inquirerheadlines/metro/view_article.php?article_id=77007

http://luzon.wowphilippines.com/rizal/?p=138

http://www.journal.com.ph/index.php?issue=2007-07-17&sec=1&aid=0

http://www.gmanews.tv/story/51171/Estranged-father-kills-2-kids-self-in-Antipolo

Nothing quite like news like this to spoil a breakfast. Scratch that — a whole day.

*
“Second-degree burns affect both the outer and underlying layer of skin. They cause pain, redness, swelling, and blistering.”

Okay, that makes burn number 2 for this month. I think I met my quota at 0.

**

‘Okay ka lang?’

It’s funny how asserting one’s stability tends to ellicit the opposite interpretation. So, let’s say I pulled out a cigarette each time I heard this statement for the whole week. That’s equivalent to 90+ sticks. And, if according to 1994′s Surgeon General report that each cigarette smoked takes 7 minutes out of the smoker’s life, that’s roughly 630+ minutes subtracted from my life.

Gotta understand though, when you hear “ok ka lang?,” you can almost always expect the one who asked to expect the opposite reaction. Given the right one, they’ll follow up with, “sure ka? / are you sure?”

At first, I thought I’d be mighty annoyed -and I was, really,- but nobody expected the sudden highschool reunion, 5 years premature, and on such tragic circumstances. So yeah, I think I’d file this under “Paolo’s-Cynicism-when-people-actually-do-care-what-you’re-going-through-at-the-moment” folder.

***
Someone pointed out how “highschool” (and I do believe I throw the word ‘highschool’ as an adjective a lot) the whole week has been:

Namecalling, getting forced to interact and digging up old (awkward) memories you hid along with the dinosaurs? (ergh. yes, we did have pet names.) Go highschool.

Names I’ve been called for the last week: “the highschool midlife crisis,” “pastor,” “antukin,” … and so on.

Some express disbelief that I did make it — they always expected me to be the bum. (that’s still plan B) “No, I do have a job/ Yes, I’m okay/ No, it’s not a callcenter/ Yep, just in front of Podium/ Yes, I’m sure I’m okay/ Nope, I didn’t know she was going through all that/ Yep, tumalon kami sa bintana/ Nope, I don’t think we ever spoke before/ Nope, I wasn’t always quiet”

I love highschool.

****
If there’s anything learned for this week, it’s: “First, do no harm.”

It’s what they say to doctors. Before trying to heal a patient, be sure you don’t make things any worse for them. Think about how you can treat them without doing any damage.

Be careful with people. Try to live your life without abusing or shattering or betraying.

“First, do no harm.”

(Ok, so I did read the last few lines from a comicbook, but it fits.)

I could sit here and mope about this passing, but I would choose not to; We all eventually fall and stumble. The important thing is getting back on your feet.

*****
Starcraft 2 has been officially announced. It looks like the same old shit … in 3D!

A thing that bothers me though is the new siege tank. A friend noted that it looks “gummy.” I think it looks like a giant robotic octopus.

Does anyone remember the robotic octopus from Voltes V? Octo-1? I’m calling the new siege tank Octo-1 PRIME. Hahaha!

Seriously though, check out the Artwork trailer here.

Truth comes a lot easier when you’re thirteen. Things were a lot less complicated too — this or that, us or them, love or hate.

A couple of birthdays back, she even told me she was happy with someone at the moment. And now that conversation haunts me. She always did call me on being emotionless. And the great truth is — it’s certainly not so, because I do feel. (Embarassingly so.) She cared deeply enough to be there, and I wish I did stay for a little while longer.

Sixteen.

Sixteen stab wounds to change your life. Sixteen stab wounds to make you think about mortality, and what animal in his right mind would do such a thing. These are the grays in the horizon when you’re thirteen.