Evidence 1

Today, I finally had the chance to go to that newly opened restaurant. The one near the house beside the market. They had surprisingly good sandwiches. I tried the grilled cheese sandwich. I asked the sandwich-man to add bacon on my order, but he told me that that wouldn’t be just grilled cheese anymore. But I insisted. Also, I told him to add tomatoes, mayonnaise, some minced beef and that special sauce. Basically, I didn’t order the grilled cheese sandwich. I was craving for something else though.

Also, I had a strange dream last night. I was in a space station somewhere, but it wasn’t in space. It was probably under the sea because there was a whale and a school of fish. Those were the only things there though. It was dark blue below and above, just by the waves was a door. I forgot the rest. I hope I remember it.”

 

The Blogoshpere

It is an interconnected body of the internet. There you can share your thoughts with other. You may also connect with other and create a new idea. It’s branches reaching farther and farther with every idea.

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The blogosphere contains an extreme amount of information no single human can contain. It is the connected nerves of the brain inside the internet. Ever-evolving, changing and expanding but it never reaches the limits of the web. It is infinite like the human mind, everlasting but it’s existence dwells within the workings of technology.

“Bad Ang Sinungaling” at UST

Last August 16, 2014, there was a filming on campus. It’s titled as “Bad Ang Sinungaling”. Not much of the cast was being shot that day, except Ryzza Mae and Marian Rivera.

Unfortunately, all my shots of Marian Rivera were blurred, and some didn’t really capture her. All I got from there as a photographic souvenir is this photo of Ryzza Mae.

She is a rising child actress. Her height and personality seems to be appropriate with what some people call her as “Aling Maliit”. She’s already been in a lot of films.

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NOTE: I was not able to blog about this last week because blogging about famous people is not my cup of tea. When it comes to these kind of work, I tend to lose my proper grammar. I apologize for the in-professionalism of my article.

The Saviour That Lurks Beneath The Sea

by 

A lullaby by the waters

I sat on the edge of a dock

Fell asleep and into the ocean

At 12O’Clock

 

It felt like a sort of sensation

Falling into the waves

Changing chromatically

The colors fade beneath the surface

 

The deep served a largeness

Like shadow or silhouette

Moving slow and steady

I begin to lose my breath

 

And so, from the middle of the shadow

Came a diamond light

With brightness steady and strong

I should be feeling joy, not fright

 

I hear a voice from the center

Of ethereal tone

And tells me I am saved

I’ve drifted to the sand and stone

I awoke to sight of a beach

And a sight of a behemoth by the sea

Swimming to the horizontal beyond

And when I knew, it was early morning at 3

NOTE: Post I made since I won’t join the Creative Writing Workshop of The Varsitarian

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Reddit WordPress favorited tweet “Drowning Between 12 and 3” (original title of this poem)

The Boy with the Blue Jacket and the Friend He Made

Some creations are made through loneliness. And in a certain playground, this loneliness resides inside a boy wearing the blue jacket that had a pattern patched on it’s chest pocket. He’s the boy that stays in the corner of a sandbox while everyone’s playing in the middle. He rides the swing on his own, while everyone else is pushing each other. But most times, he stays in one compartment of the playhouse- the one which contains the window.

He’s alone most of the time, observing the children and their running and their screaming, and wishes to play with them with the running and screaming. But instead, he finds solidarity even when he approaches them. For he does not find that these children belong to his standards of friendship.

So one day, he creates a friend. He believes he does and talks to his friend. At the playground, he believes that his friend is making sand castles with him in the sandbox, when he was creating them himself. Someone pushing him on the swing, when he’s actually just kicking at the floor. A friend he believes is waiting for him below the slide, and goes again for another round.

For the next few days, he does this routine of having a playmate all for himself.

The children at the playground were so young and curious that when they saw the boy in the blue jacket smiling for the first time they had to know why. He told them about his friend, about how he’s never alone anymore. They couldn’t understand, so some of them made fun of him, some mocked him and some were cruel – everyone took him for a fool. This made him cry and run to that playhouse compartment with the window.

From there, he could see the children making fun of him. Their faces that red from laughter. He knew that he would never have a chance to be friends with them anymore at all. But, he also knew that this would be the last time that they were going to think of him as a lunatic.

He believed so hard that his friend exists so that belief would prove them wrong. That through this strong faith in the existence of this friend, the children won’t think he’s crazy. That when his imagination becomes reality he would prove them wrong.

He closed his eyes tightly, envisioning his creation. His focus lost when he heard a name calling his voice. It was coming from the slide. A voice that sounded so sweet, kind, innocent, playful and real. He followed it, and he slid down the chute. To his surprise, his friend is there waiting for him.

They walked hand in hand toward the other children. And he calls their attention to him as he introduces his friend. They went from red with laughter to white with fear. They ran away as fast as they could to their homes calling for their mommies and daddies.

For lo and behold, his friend is not human at all – nor was his friend a monster. His friend was simply something out of the ordinary, a moving life-form one had never laid eyes on before. And so, deeming it strange, grotesque and real. Just the way he liked it.

NOTE: Post I made since I won’t join the Creative Writing Workshop of The Varsitarian

Photo Credit http://www.oldmastersonline.com/images/TH/Amedeo-Modigliani/Boy-in-a-Blue-Jacket-by-Modigliani.jpg

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