ala post secret

tell-a-vision

TV SCREEN

TELEVISION, AN AMAZING INVENTION THAT CAN DO ALL SORTS OF THINGS, FROM ENTERTAINING A LITTLE GIRL TO CONTROLLING HER EVERY MOVE... TELEVISION BRINGS ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS FROM EPICS TO DRAMA TO COMEDY TO EVEN SELF REALIZATION. THIS MAY BE MAN'S MOST FAMOUS INVENTION. A BLESSING AND A CURSE.

I have been a victim of it's TREACHEROUS curse.

give me one and i shall be glued to it's melodic trance.

fixated in its hypnotic blasphemies

i cry with desperate delight.

visions and illusions fill the empty void.

destroying all that was sane

leaving it moist with tears of anxiety and unfulfilled wishes.

television

tell me a vision

filled with wondering looks

and inquisitive eyes.

Tell me a poem

filled with glass like masks

And dreamy lies

corrupt my soul

and my once untainted values

you leave nothing up to chance

all you really do is attach us to your strings

and make us dance

laugh an evil smile

smile an evil laugh

you show me your teeth

i give you mine

an unfair trade if you will

but none the less we chose to partake in such

the second we said 'i want that one'

patty cake

patty cake

baker's man

so i will

master

as fast as i can

pat it

and prick it

and mark it with a t

put in the oven

until i swoon for thee

television

television

tell me vision

television

television

lock me in your delirious derision

O-O

just a thought

I am amazed

how the human race

has risen from nothing...

and yet,

ironically,

has

fallen

because of it.

to dream is to wish

dreams are the disguised fulfilment of unconscious wishes.

-Sigmund Freud

tick.tock.tick.tock.

RUSHhours

It is 9:07 in the evening.

The clock is ticking and I have yet to make my move.

My palms are sweaty; my mind is popping out of its shell.

I can’t take it any more, but the clock is still ticking and I have no where else to go, no where else to hide.

I have been running so much that I have tired myself out of my shoes, not noticing my fears catching up behind me. Suddenly a brick wall has sprung out from nowhere, creating a dead end, giving me no choice but to look back. So much for freedom of choice. My heart is beating rapidly, so fast in fact that any heart monitor attached to me would have burst into flames. I now stare face to face with my shadow, calculating the time on when to look. Then suddenly a shadow comes up from behind me, ultimately killing my own, sending it to oblivion; a place i know i, too, will be destined to go. I guess now is the time to look, what else can I do? I might as well die trying to rid my fears than to live in the shadows of it. As I slowly turned around to look, a chill went down my spine and my legs started to cramp. Why now? Why now when I’m about to make the most courageous thing I have ever done in my life.

Though i must say, i have to commend death for such creativity:

a death sentence in the form of a cramp...

how original.

The clock is still ticking.

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

Its infamous ring driving me insane.

All I can do now is close my eyes and wait ‘til I reach the other side.

Tick, tock, tick, tock…

and i waited

and waited

and waited

and nothing happened.

Lost expectations, though tempting to discover its cause, isn't exactly an exhilarating invitation to RSVP. Never the less, I chose not to look, for as they say 'curiosity killed the cat;'

and no

i am not that cat.

Not today.

Not tomorrow.

So,

i waited

and waited

and waited

and something happened.

------------------------^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

i was getting a heart attack.

the pain, or what i'd like to call a cry for an ambulance, was excruciating; though i dare say, somewhat relieving.

O crap.

I think my sanity just drifted away.

O crap.

I think I'm dying.

I think.

and I think.

and I think.

and nothing happened.

the idle suspense is enough to kill me.

nothing is happening

but pain and delusion.

i am lost in my own nightmare and i have no where else to run.

the corners of my mind has exhausted my final efforts of freedom

i am lost

i am pain

i am dead.

Suddenly everything is silent and dark. The only thing that could be heard is the heart monitor, its cursed alarm of lifeless grim stabbing me at every second.

In one blink, I see a blurry, bright light. The next thing knew I was in my humble abode, my bedroom. It was all just a dream. Actually, it was a nightmare but it doesn’t matter, it just means that it all wasn’t real… or was it?

I look up and I see the computer screen,

the text cursor blinking like mad,

taunting me,

and pressuring me.

----

It is 9:57 in the evening.

The clock is ticking and I have yet to make my move.

My palms are sweaty and my mind is popping out of its shell.

Whoa… a sudden rush of déjà vu swept past my veins. I look at my faint reflection in the screen and i groaned as i realized that the nightmare merely mirrored reality. My fears caught up with me once again.

I.

have.

to.

make.

an.

essay.

not good.

I sit here, with all the radiation seeping into my head, waiting for something productive to enter it. As I stare in to the insulting white screen, with its text cursor blinking at every second that passes by, slapping the time on my face, i look at the clock and ultimately wished i was not the procrastinator that i am. It’s 10:10 and it’s not going any slower. I am in a time crunch and Mr. Blockhead chose the perfect time to swallow me into the depths of intellectual suffocation. Then, an idea zoomed into my head, and I actually caught it! I finally found an idea for my title. I lay my fingers on the keys, click, one letter for me and one giant leap into actually finishing the essay. I then pressed another key, and then another. The keys seem to bow down to my every command. I am their master. I then press the last key. I look into the screen, and there I see my title:

RUSHhours.

I then begin my essay:

It is 9:07 in the evening.

The clock is ticking and I have yet to make my move.

My palms are sweaty; my mind is popping out of its shell…

Sounds to me like déjà vu all over again.

Azucena

Azucena

A film analysis

At first glance the film Azucena seems to hold an ill eye on ‘man’s best friend.’

But give it another look and you’ll find something more appalling.

The hunter has now deemed the title of the hunted.

Azucena is a film about dogs and how they have become a ‘nutritious’ part of a Filipino’s meal. When watched, mixed emotions can come to play. Some may think it appalling because they regard dogs as innocent and a member of the family. And others may think it as a fact of life: it is a dog of the streets, an animal made to satisfy man’s needs, be it for companion or for lunch; a victim of the code ‘survival of the fittest.’

Dogs, in reality, though they can be trained and loved, are still thought by many as just another animal; A mutt who bites and barks; A vicious, wild animal that needs to be slapped around just to be taught what to do and what not to do.

And no, I’m not talking about the animal.

The film shows the harsh reality of the possible brutality and harshness of man, especially when faced with an opportunity to showcase their prowess with bursting egotistical ignorance. Azucena depicts a reality that people in power, be it a policeman, a mother, a father, or even an ordinary man, are capable of doing good deeds…

Exhibit A

An ordinary man

A father

A man of the law

A criminal

A drunkard

A rapist

A dog

Exhibit B

A dog

A dog cooker

A dog butcher

A dog catcher

A protector

A father figure

An ordinary man

…and doing terrible things.

This is what you call the conflict perspective.

It displays a lust for power, a megalomaniac loose to prance and spit where ever he desires. In the film the power struggle is obvious yet it subtly shifts from one to the other. First, and the most obvious, is the struggle between men (the dog butcher), being on the higher end of the bargain, and the dogs being on the lower end. It slowly shifts to society and how it looks down upon the dog butcher. It again shifts to the corrupt policemen and society; and the most harrowing of all: The struggle between man and woman; man and wife, and a man and his child.

In the film one man seemed to be continuously at the top of the brutal cycle: the father. He, being a policeman and a father, holds power both publicly and privately. Though, he always did have a temper. As you may have predicted already, he abused his power. As a policeman he, instead of upholding justice by protecting others all he really did uphold was his pride by putting others down. As a husband he was no better. He, to put it simply, uses his ‘things’ and throws them after. And as a father, if he should even be called as such, he failed miserably (raping your daughter is not a good thing; to do it twice is hell itself).

And in a rare occasion we are able to witness, and may I remind you this is a film about the reality of the Philippines, a glimpse of what we can call poetic justice. In what began to be a power trip over animals, the film ended with a power trip over the dogs; the real monsters of society.

To put my two cents worth I must say that I loved the film. It stayed true to the theme and yet strayed from it in the cleverest way.

You can look at it in either two ways:

You’re either on top or in the bottom.

Take your pick.

And once again the hole goes deeper...

It's never a cause for celebration when you're rendered or at least said to be a useless, heartless void. But if I AM a useless, heartless void it still hurts. A LOT.

My name is Anna Patricia Dizon Dela Rama. I am a Filipino and I am the daughter of my mother and father. My father is somewhat like the ghost of Christmas, he only comes when he has presents to give and money to burn only to mask the apparent poverty he is in now... and no, i don't mean the lack of financial security. My mother is my father and mother. A strange little mind twister it is, i know. My mother is the person i could actually say is my parental guidance. She provided me a life and all it's needs. The only thing she doesn't know is that i fear her the most.

My mother has a strong personality. So strong in fact she can break me like you can a toothpick. It's not a pretty sight. She doesn't know the fact that the only reason i cry is when i feel i have disappointed her... because my love was not enough... because I was not enough. It feels utterly degrading and excruciatingly painful to know that your own mother thinks you don't come up to par with the rest or the ideal. It hurts.

But enough about that. Let's talk about the root of the problem.

I.

Obviously, I am a strange person. If you could even call me such.

What follows are the things I want and the person i want to be one day:

1. outgoing

2. lot's of friends (artists)

3. I want to be a dancer

4. I want to be an actress

5. I want to be athletic

6. I want to give security to those i love

7. I want to be useful

8. I want to be responsible

9. I hope to love what i have become someday

10. And lastly, I hope she'll love what i have become... someday

And what follows next is reality:

1. I am not outgoing, I cannot express my feelings (something i have discovered to be a disability of mine)

2. I don't have a lot of friends due to the fact that i feel people hate me. Sad, i know.

3. I am a dancer... only in my mind (pelvic thrusts that don't go anywhere is hardly what i call dancing)

4. actress? obviously a joke.

5. I am the opposite of athleticism.

6. yeah. right.

7. I am USELESS.

8. I am responsible as much as i am an anti-crammer.

9. I have difficulty liking what i see in the mirror... and no, i'm not only talking about the physical.

10. And lastly, I HOPE she'll love what i have become... someday

As you can see, I AM A CONTRADICTION. As my heart soars in the sky, inflated by unlimited wants and dreams, my mind, the pinnacle of confusion, bursts my balloon wide open... I am my own downfall.

There are just days i think i have a great disability. Some good, some not so good.

For one thing i love being strange and different. I don't think I can ever truly describe to anyone what my mind conjures up each day. But if there's one disability that could be truly called as one It would have to be the 'you have no heart' disability (thanks for the title mom.) Obviously, i cannot crap my emotions out of my ass properly. I have come to fathom that it is a skill that people are born with. Obviously I'm not one of those people.

It's because of this disability i have become one of the unfavored ones.

And once again the hole in my heart goes down another six feet.