tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7947076719685006832024-03-19T23:44:53.477+08:00The only onEHear me speak.Emperor Emilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16456624875541234399noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-794707671968500683.post-47922204800590514262009-07-02T20:11:00.001+08:002009-07-02T20:14:35.618+08:00Stealing Identities in Social Networking<div align="justify">Statistics have recently shown that 98 percent of people between the ages of thirteen and thirty-nine in all highly-urbanized areas across the world own their Face book account. That of course, is a patent lie, absolutely unfounded except when you count in sheer imagination as a source of reliable information. But I’m pretty sure you won’t argue with me when I say that more and more people are in fact getting accounts from these online community or profile-sharing websites such as Facebook, MySpace, and the now totally-unhip-and-unpopular Friend-thingie. Yes, more and more people are willing to publish vital and confidential personal information to the whole world , for whatever reason. Some may want to reconnect with friends from the past, some may just want to meet new friends, and for some, this may be the only venue where they can have friends. Virtual friends are still better than none.</div><div align="justify"><br />While some rejoice because they can finally interact with other people, some people are even happier, because of what these websites can give rise to: identity theft. Yes, in case you weren’t aware, it’s so easy to build a profile of one person by simply appropriating all the available information on that person and, basically, do whatever you want with it. Names, birthdays, addresses, photographs, and in some cases, even work experience; they can be found in these online communities and profile-sharing sites.</div><div align="justify"><br />The problem is not a lot of people are aware that these things may actually happen or that people may in fact do this. But it’s so easy to do and the thing is, any person, even with the minimum required skills for internet use, can do it. Add the fact that the internet is not exactly a haven for the nicest people and you’ve got a recipe for identity theft and other online fraud. Identity theft is a growing problem, and it seems like the rather unsafe and very inconvenient information sharing mechanisms in these websites make it much easier. The worst part of it is that you can’t really get any proper remedy from existing laws to correct such misdeeds. Oftentimes, your solution would just have to be, well, suck it up. Go to authorities and you’ll most likely hear one thing: you should have just been careful.</div>Emperor Emilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16456624875541234399noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-794707671968500683.post-35562772170215711692009-05-26T00:45:00.000+08:002009-05-26T00:48:04.808+08:00Do heroes have their own heroes?At one point in people’s lives, they aspire for either one, a hero to rescue them when they find themselves in the deepest ditch they’ve dug for themselves, or two, be that hero who rescues the helpless so as to be able to delight in whatever recognition such heroism may bring them. Either way, people have idealized the concept of a hero: strong, powerful, extraordinary, virtuous, ever-reliable, and even comes unexpectedly yet the timing is always perfect. The world has put the hero on a pedestal.<br /><br />But a new breed of heroes has arrived: heroes who have to deal with their own personal issues, issues that are simply out of their control. Superpowers can’t solve everything after all. And just as the strength of a hero is a thousand times greater than that of the normal individual, so is the magnitude of the problem he has to deal with in his own life as an extraordinary being.<br />Who will save the hero?<br />Surely heroes will try to fix the problem by themselves, thinking that if the ordinary person can’t even handle his own affairs, then what could he possibly do to aid the hero in his problem? However, when someone has been so used to trying to resolves the problems of those who need saving, which are sometimes not only mundane, but even brought about by that person himself, then it would seem as if working problems out won’t be a problem. The hero has been used to trivial issues, and thinks that he’d probably have the same attitude of confidence when faced with his own setbacks.<br />So how would he feel being confronted by something new, uncontrollable, and incomprehensible?<br />Finally the hero faces uncertainty. Finally the hero faces potential doom. Finally the hero understands how it feels to be helpless.<br /><br />So, after an ordinary day of rendering salvation and heroism, the hero retires and contemplates his own life issues. Although a person of awesome skills and power, the hero, under the overwhelming effect of uncertainty, sometimes wonders if those he has saved in the future can return the favor, and this time, be there to bring him salvation. Do they realize what the hero goes through? Do they understand the hero’s confusion? Unfortunately, though logically, they don’t. After all, what good is a hero who can’t fight is own demons?<br /><br />The idea of having to be saved just seems too un-heroic.<br /><br />Eventually, the hero realizes the futility of hoping that some ordinary individuals out there will do for him what he has done for them. There’s a reason why he’s the hero in the story. Harsh as it may seem for him, this is how it should be. Strong, powerful, extraordinary, virtuous, ever-reliable, and even comes unexpectedly yet the timing is always perfect: a hero is not designed to feel weakness or display any hint of frailty. It takes a while for the hero to pull through, but he will anyway.<br /><br />Sometimes the hero just wishes there’d be a hero for him, too.<br /><br />(Then the hero figures out everything once again..)Emperor Emilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16456624875541234399noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-794707671968500683.post-18992699559130169052009-05-25T16:08:00.001+08:002009-05-25T16:09:28.997+08:00No dear, it was NOT love...<div align="justify">People mistake a lot of things to be love. An extreme adoration of someone's gorgeous physical features may be confused with love. A person's display of absolute kindness may be mistaken for love. A playful and touchy-feely type of friendship may be mistaken for love. Giving someone a ten-thousand-dollar gift check to purchase designer clothes may be mistaken for love. Hey wait a minute, isn’t it?</div><div align="justify"><br />Anyway, let me innovate. As it turns out, even feelings arising from self-insecurity may be mistaken for love, or least a desire for romantic love. Obviously that may just seem far-out, but yes, if Miley Cyrus can get a spread in Vanity Fair, then anything’s possible.<br /></div><div align="justify">The question now is, how could a person ever mistake self-insecurity as a desire to be romantically involved? Well it’s not really a difficult question to answer. Just think of it this way: there are some people who simply have no desire for romantic love, for various reasons. They may have no time for it, they may just be too in love with other non-human entities (like clothes or perfume or dark chocolate), or simply because they genuinely feel that they don’t need it. There are just some people who possess such a high level of self-esteem and self-love that it may no longer be necessary to find those from other people. That’s not such a hard thing to understand right? It simply means that these people are in a position where they wallow in pride and self-content because of who they are or what they can do or what they have that the issues of who they’re with or whether or not they are with someone are basically…non-issues.<br /></div><div align="justify">However, this superior level of self-esteem is not immune from being damaged. A lot of things can happen to a person that may endanger this unusually high level of security with one’s self which may have the person believing that he may not be that great being he believed himself to be. Suddenly the thought of being just a mere mortal enters his mind, and with this, comes the desire for what is usually wanted by ordinary people, as they think that they may find relief from their issues with the aid of these things.<br /></div><div align="justify">When a person of this type feels that who he is or what he has or what he can do is no longer enough to make him happy or at least maintain the necessary level of self-satisfaction, this is when he begins to look to other things, things external to him, to fill that missing portion. Shopping and gaining material things usually work, but oddly enough, romance just seems so inviting.<br /></div><div align="justify">Enter confusion. No, that is an understatement: enter, utter madness. The love they originally had for themselves is now transferred to another individual as the former may feel that he is no longer worthy of this self-love, and would hence just invest this “love” in the latter. What they think of as a new entity worth pouring emotions and fluttering feelings into is actually just some luck passerby who caught their eyes at a moment when they are confused, vulnerable, and desperate for something to make them feel better.<br /></div><div align="justify">But it won’t take forever for the temporarily-confused person to realize the foolishness he has immersed himself. All he needs is a wake-up call, a trigger, or a role model with enough strength…no he doesn’t really need any of that. Well, maybe the return of a brain is necessary. Otherwise, all he needs is to realize that he was never romantically attracted to another person, least of all in love with someone. It was simply a matter of self-love displaced.<br />And the love is back to where it should be.<br /><br />(**,)<br />“You know I adore all of God’s creatures, and the metaphors they inspire, but those butterflies have got to be murdered!” (Blair Waldorf, Gossip Girl)</div>Emperor Emilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16456624875541234399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-794707671968500683.post-5468583787213052572009-05-25T16:02:00.001+08:002009-05-25T16:05:29.914+08:00The Truth about Lies<div align="justify"><br /><em>“Yes. Each night before we fall asleep we lie to ourselves in a desperate, desperate hope that, come morning, it will all be true.”</em></div><div align="justify"><br />As children, we have always been told by the adults keeping watch over us never to lie. Somehow we have been made to believe that lying is as good as digging your own grave, or securing your place in hell, or maybe purchasing a one-way ticket to South Korea. Lying has always been deemed as wrong. And that my friend, is one big lie.</div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">As much as I would like to think that I’m a person who strives for the truth and a world free from pretensions, I have realized, after reaching a semi-crisis, that lying may have its merits. As a matter of fact, there can be that situation where lying may be speaking the truth. Confusing, I bet. It’s just a matter of who you’re lying to.<br /></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">It’s just a matter of lying to yourself.<br /></div><div align="justify">When you lie to yourself, the first person you deceive is who else, but you. However, once you have deceived yourself and you yourself are under the false impression that the idea or thought or whatever bit of information you have forced into your head is actually true, then it’s not really lying when you pass on this information to other people.<br /></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">Okay so it may still seem like lying, but I guess to be a completely valid defense (or helpful mechanism), you must be such a great liar that you may even deceive yourself. And trust me, though it may take years before a person can master such art, such really can be done.<br /></div><div align="justify">But why would a person lie to himself? Sometimes in life there are just situations that we don’t want to think about, and for various reasons. Some seem too overwhelming for us to handle, or maybe some are just too distracting it takes so much our time worrying about it, or probably some are just things that we don’t want to care about, when all the signs seem to signify that we should. Whatever the reason is, a person resorts to lying to one’s self as a protective mechanism so as not to be made to deal with all the unnecessary drama that has to come with confronting the truth. If a person keeps on denying the existence of something, chances are “that something” would in fact cease to exist, at least as far as the person in denial is concerned.<br /></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">You may not admit it (of course you wouldn’t), but everyone resorts to self-deception every once in a while. Acts such as refusing to find out answers to exams right after taking one, or relaxing in an expensive café, sipping the priciest latte on a perfect Friday afternoon while practically suppressing the fact of extensive corruption and immorality of the present government: we do them so often, but then, we’re not even aware of them. Duh, we’ve lied to ourselves about it.<br /></div><div align="justify">The bad part comes once you rediscover the truth, and suddenly it isn’t so easy going back to the protective shelter of your lie, unless you’ve mastered it so well, going back to that protective shelter is effortless. The revelation is almost life-transforming, and the fact you have been trying to deny has now become even more overwhelming. This is when you confront it, and resolve the issue despite its being larger-than-life. This is when you overcome the lie, conquer whatever crisis, and learn to deal with the truth.<br /></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">And in the end, you won’t have to live that lie.<br /></div>Emperor Emilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16456624875541234399noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-794707671968500683.post-69613710499710647522009-05-25T15:57:00.001+08:002009-05-25T16:00:03.112+08:00A Page from a Designer's Journal<div align="justify"><br />"What would this color look like on her skin?"</div><div align="justify"><br />Thus goes the first question asked by The Designer as he contemplates about the outfit he has been contracted to...what else, but design. He has already finished making several sketches, none of which seem to capture that exact image in his head, but they're beautiful designs nonetheless. He suddenly stops thinking how odd it is that he knows exactly how the outfit must appear, down to the minutest details, and yet he cannot make an accurate depiction of it on paper. Stumped as he is, he decides that the best way to do it is make several sketches and let the client choose. </div><div align="justify"><br />The client's choice is important, but in the end, it's The Designer's whims and caprices that determine the outfit.<br /></div><div align="justify">As The Designer temporarily decides to postpone the design choice, he continues on pondering about the color of the dress. He looks at his own skin, then realizes that his skin color is actually similar to that of his client's. Well, except that his skin tone has a more definite tan, and has a more uniform shade than that of his client, as if he has just skinny dipped in one of the beaches of Greece under the fine sun. Yes, he loves his skin color. And he loves his blue shirt on his skin.<br />Blue. And silver. Definitely blue and silver. Okay, so blue on blue, silver on blue, silver on blue, and silver. That's great.<br /></div><div align="justify">No one else can really get that, but The Designer has a way of thinking that only he can comprehend.<br />Oh wait. The Designer suddenly remembers that he can't sew. It seems as though it's not enough that he can't translate his thoughts in a way that others would understand. The couturier has to understand. Ugh.<br /></div><div align="justify">The Designer finally decides on a design. The top shall be halter, with fine, expensive lace layered over the material. It may have been a good idea to make several sketches then let the client choose, but come to think of it, that is actually a lot lazier than just coming up with one design perfect for the client. And The Designer refuses to be lazy. Why so? Mainly because by making only one design, The Designer has to go through such a long, tedious, and detailed process as to what would be great-wait-the best for the client. He has to think about an outfit that would match the proportions and features of the client; in short, it has to be a very unique creation. On the other hand, if The Designer were to just come up with several sketches and lets the client choose, that's pretty much it: several sketches. Sure, it's pretty, but how will it be on the client? If that were the case, idiosyncrasy wouldn't have to matter. Such a method implies utter irresponsibility or inability to take responsibility on the part of whoever follows the said method.<br /></div><div align="justify">It feels great that The Designer has come up with the perfect outfit, and has decided on the colors! Bravo! And now, time to ask for The Client's approval.<br /></div><div align="justify">After two hours and etcera minutes spent on fixing himself up (As The Designer, he simply will not step out into the world looking like trash...Eew.), The Designer is now ready to meet the client. He looks for the sketch, and finds it inserted in a pile of papers with word "versus" and "petitioner" written all over them. As precious as it is, The Designer hastily folds up the sheet of paper where the sketch was drawn and puts it in his pocket.<br />That habit is so unproductive. How can someone neglect his own creations? It's like Leonardo da Vinci painting a moustache above Mona Lisa's lips...then lazily folding it then putting it in his pocket.<br /></div><div align="justify">Late as usual; no one really expects The Designer to come on time. As much as he is aware of how unprofessional it is, proclaiming divaness and egoism prevails over his concern of how others might think of him professionally-wise. Besides, the client is a friend, and they do more than discuss business when they meet. (...What business?)<br />"Ooh.", the client says. What kind of a reaction is that? Seriously. If you hate it, then just say so. But if you don't, say something else than "Ooh." "Wow, this is beautiful. You're very good at this.", she adds. Okay, that's slightly lukewarm but The Designer accepts it. Assured that the client is satisfied with the outfit presented to her for her upcoming graduation, he then proceeds to taking to her about the color. Luckily for both of them , the client also liked the color of the shirt that inspired The Designer to come up with the blue.<br /></div><div align="justify">A lot of people in the industry love shopping for fabrics; unfortunately for The Designer, he doesn't seem to share others' passion for going into fabric shops or warehouses. It's too tiring, and it's such a tedious process. Truth is, The Designer has a lot more to learn about fabrics, hence the ambivalence as to the whole process of looking for the flesh of the outfit. This time The Designer has become so unsure of himself that he insists the client comes along. It doesn't take much for the client to be persuaded, probably a sign that she is very well aware of The Designer's limitations when it comes to fabrics.<br /></div><div align="justify">The store assistant seems rather irritated. The Designer and his posse, which pretty much consists of the client and another fashionable friend have been going around the fabric store for almost three hours. They've taken pictures of some fabrics, of themselves, swapped conversations for at least twenty topics, followed by another two, played games identifying colors. The posse has done may things inside the store, except choose a fabric.<br />"Okay, all the blue fabrics look the same," says the fashionable friend as she peeps into her digital camera. The fashionable friend, being least privy to this entire activity (being neither a designer or a client), is probably the most bored. The Designer is very well aware of this. Despite his earlier statements totally condemning satin, he now goes to the satin section, realizing that isn't really much choice in his little city. 'It's tacky. I feel like I'm looking at a really bad wedding entourage,' The Designer thinks as he picks up the roll from the shelf. 'Or an early 90s prom.' But ever the tenacious individual that he is, The Designer knows that he can breathe beauty into this otherwise condemned material; he can salvage it, make something attractive out of it. Besides, he's really hungry. One thing about designers: they have much difficulty understanding the idea behind "fats."<br /></div><div align="justify">Phone in one hand and the plastic bag with the fabric in the other, The Designer struggles to find his way through the crowded streets of the city.'Ugh. People.' Now comes the really difficult part: meeting the couturiers. In a world where people just listened and paid attention to instructions, designers wouldn't really have much problems in making sure their designs are followed. Unfortunately such world does not exist; or if it does then The Designer is aware he's not living in it. But he'll take the risk by giving the sketch to the paid couturiers.<br /></div><div align="justify">"The lace is on top on this fabric, and then this fabric drapes over this one, so it delivers that Grecian grace...it's very Arma-...", The Designer's voice trails off as he realizes that he was about to compare his design to someone else's. It's the fashion industry. There is such a strong desire for up and comers to stand out on their own, and yet be at par with the established ones, and of course, make sure that the designs are trendy enough to command attention and hence, sell. As much as fashion and designing is also a passion, it is also a good source of green matter. There are too many self-contradictory events going on in that industry that it's hard to make sense out of the whole thing.<br />It's been almost a week since the fabric and the design was surrendered to the care of the couturier, when the client sent a message to The Designer. "The dress is a disaster. The cut reaches my last rib, there's an oil stain. It makes me look like a pregnant woman..."<br />The Designer doesn't know what to make of it. Unfortunately he is currently not in a position to check out the dress, as he's somewhere pursuing the realistic, the practical.<br /></div><div align="justify">'What the fu-...'<br />Suddenly, for a moment it seemed as if the career that never even actually begun has come to an end. Shocked by the message, The Designer sits in utter disbelief, contemplating thoughts optimists don't know of. He sees this as a warning, as a big sign screaming to him at his face that some things are simply unattainable or too impossible or not worth wasting precious time on. Besides, the cases on the desk are piling up.<br />Why risk so much for something so unsure?<br />But if there's one thing that The Designer is not, then that's being a self-pitying, defeatist, loser.<br /></div><div align="justify">"Shit. Where's that pencil?"<br /><br />(FYI: This was written before I even read Imogen Edwards-Jones "Fashion Babylon," for those doubting the originality of the concept behind this article. But that book's a good read as well.)</div>Emperor Emilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16456624875541234399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-794707671968500683.post-1627261515468319232009-05-25T15:51:00.002+08:002009-05-25T16:06:37.032+08:00My Rejected Criminal Law Story<div align="justify"><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;">For our Midterm Exams in Criminal Law 2, our professor asked us to make this story featuring six felonies, one from each of the titles we discussed before the Midterms. Despite being "funny" and "well-written", my story wasn't chosen. Boo hoo. Haha! I'm kidding, a really good one was chosen anyway, one with more gray areas, which was what we needed.<br />But I still want to publish mine since it is "funny" and "well-written." Besides, people somehow predicted that I was going to write something like this. If for some reason you feel like it, maybe you can try resolving the issues involved (i.e. whether or not a crime was committed, and what the crime committed was).<br />Otherwise, just indulge yourself in a really funny story, and hope you never get to meet Jessica. =D<br /></span><br /><br /><strong>THE STORY OF A GIRL NAMED JESSICA </strong><br /><br />Jessica hated queues.<br /><br />It was just another Saturday night in one of the posh districts of Makati, and as usual, Jessica Reyes found herself in the long queue to The White Lotus, the hippest, the most exclusive, and definitely the most expensive club in Metro Manila. Jessica was just getting sick of the whole waiting process. As she looked around, trying to rid herself of the boredom brought upon by waiting behind the velvets, she saw the handsome Nathan Cruz emerge from a brand new Mercedes SLK, presumably owned by this hotshot politician. Emerge is definitely the word as Nathan chose to climb through the opening in his car’s ceiling to get out; Nathan obviously, was not sober, as betrayed by the constant stumbling and his zombie-like manner of walking. As a matter of fact, the smell of burned marijuana he wreaked as he walked along was so strong, some of the people in the queue took a sniff to get high.<br /><br />Jessica had a bright idea. Though in really high stiletto heels, she managed to jump over the velvet rope, unto the red carpet. She took a hold of Nathan’s arm, and laid her head on his shoulder as they both made their way into the entrance. Nathan, perplexed by the whole event, couldn’t get himself to object as he was just too stoned to do so. As they were entering the club (Nathan, being a VIP, didn’t have to wait in the queue with the ordinary people), the bouncer looked suspiciously at Jessica. Jessica, noticing the bouncer’s cold glance, flashed her left hand, displaying a golden wedding ring (Jessica carries one with her for convenience, as it discourages undesirable guys from hitting on her when in clubs). The bouncer apologized, addressing Jessica as Madam Cruz, then immediately had this VIP couple seated at one of their premier seats, costing as much as P15,000 for mere use. Jessica then took the liberty off ordering the finest drinks from the menu, the first five cocktails of which cost P7,400, said price taken cared of Nathan’s credit card which Jessica conveniently took out of Nathan’s wallet. Every time they were billed for their drinks, Jessica signed the receipts, using the name Jessica Cruz.</span><a title="" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1" href="http://emperoremil.multiply.com/journal/compose#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1"><span style="font-family:georgia;">[1]</span></a><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br />After two hours of drinking and dancing, Jessica went back to the VIP couch to order more drinks for her new found friends (she’s been going around the club, flashing her wedding ring, then pointing to Nathan; apparently this impressed people and now everybody wants to be her friend). Nathan has now totally passed out, and is in deep slumber. While looking for other credit cards, Jessica realized how handsome Nathan was. She paused a bit, then after a few seconds, she kissed Nathan torridly on his lips, then began groping him between his thighs.</span><a title="" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn2" href="http://emperoremil.multiply.com/journal/compose#_ftn2" name="_ftnref2"><span style="font-family:georgia;">[2]</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;"> Nathan, like any other male, was woken up by the kissing and touching; but unlike most males, Nathan tried to resist at first, except that he was too intoxicated and stoned to prevent Jessica from going any further with these unwanted sexual acts. Eventually, he himself found pleasure in Jessica’s lewd actions, and so he kissed back.<br /><br />Jessica stopped when she felt some heavy breathing down on the back of her neck. No, this is not the heavy breathing she wanted, for as she turned around, she came face to face with the heavy breather, Angela Cruz, Nathan’s wife. The latter, enraged by the whole scenario, held Jessica by her arms, then tossed her into the wild crowd on the dance floor. This being a rave club, the patrons pretty much ignored Jessica sprawled upon the floor, as this was a normal occurrence in rave clubs. Wanting to get up, Jessica grabbed on to the big Fendi bag of Claire, one of those dancing on the floor, causing the latter to fall over Jessica. The crowd then began to cheer the two, some of them yelling “Take it off!,” while others poured alcohol over the two. Jessica pushed Claire aside, got up, and was about to leave the dance floor when she saw Angela coming to her direction. She turned around and started walking quickly when she heard someone shout “Bitch! What’s your problem!?” Apparently, Jessica, with her very thin and very sharp stilettos, stepped on Claire’s hand, who was still on the floor at that time. Not happy with the incident, Claire threw her bag at Jessica. Jessica’s new found friends (those she treated thanks to Nathan’s credit cards) came to her defense, attacking Claire, causing the latter’s friends to come to her rescue. All the other club patrons, ever the envious crowd, decided to join in the whole affair, and soon enough, people were just randomly hitting each other and throwing shoes into the air, not minding who they hit, and in the process, driving the DJ to produce the best rave music ever known to mankind, which had the subsequent effect of further psyching up the crowd. In the midst of all this chaos, Jessica managed to find an unbroken bottle of vodka on the floor, which she thought she could use once out of the club. With all her strength, she wormed her way out of the once-classy-crowd now-mosh-pit she found herself in. While she wormed her way out, what she didn’t realize was that the unbroken bottle got broken in the process, fatally wounding D.L., who’s throat somehow came in contact with the sharp tip, causing his death.</span><a title="" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn3" href="http://emperoremil.multiply.com/journal/compose#_ftn3" name="_ftnref3"><span style="font-family:georgia;">[3]</span></a><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br />Micah, the DJ, saw Jessica try to escape, and knowing that Jessica must somehow be made liable for the chaos now occupying his dance floor, he got down from his platform, and apprehended the said female. In order for him to physically restrain Jessica, he, in good faith, felt that he had to tightly embrace Jessica to prevent her from going anywhere. Unknown to him though was the fact that Jessica was a really strong girl, as she still managed to break out from Micah’s embrace despite the latter’s bulky and brute physique. That she was touched without her liking angered Jessica so much, but as she recognized that she couldn’t stay any longer in the club because the authorities might come sometime soon, and because people have identified her as the bearer of the broken bottle that killed one of the clubbers, she grabbed Micah, carried the 6-foot DJ with her despite his struggles, and simply ran out.</span><a title="" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn4" href="http://emperoremil.multiply.com/journal/compose#_ftn4" name="_ftnref4"><span style="font-family:georgia;">[4]</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br /><br />After ten minutes of running, Jessica thought that Micah was simply too heavy, and so she brings the guy down after having hoisted him over her shoulder for that period of time. She found herself (with Micah of course) in one of the residential areas in Makati. Micah, realizing that Jessica was simply too strong and fast for him to ever defeat her, sat down, then gathering his wits, tried to convince Jessica to just surrender to the authorities before they started posting “Wanted: Dead or Alive” posters of her all over Makati; Micah was obviously watching too many Western films despite being one of the hippest DJs in Asia. Meanwhile, Jessica just stood there, thinking about how she was going to punish Micah for his behavior of violently embracing her, or if she was still going to punish him. They were both silent for a moment.<br />Jessica looked into her faux Balenciaga purse, got her lipstick, and began fixing herself up, for whatever her reason was. She engaged Micah in a conversation, and after a matter of minutes, the two were talking about each other’s lives and its complications. In this conversation it was revealed that Micah was more than just a hip DJ, but he in fact belonged to one of the richest clans in the Philippines, the Zaragozas. This revelation, as expected, got the mendacious Jessica’s interest. As she put her lipstick back into her purse, she found a small bottle of Berdugo, one the strongest whiskeys ever created on earth, so strong it’s banned in the U.S. She took the little bottle, pretended to take a gulp, then offered it to Micah. Micah was apprehensive at first, but thanks to Jessica’s power of persuasion ( it doesn’t hurt to be drop dead gorgeous), he was made to finish the entire bottle. After 5 seconds, Micah suddenly felt extremely nauseous he couldn’t even bring himself to sit up straight. As he laid his back upon the pavement, Jessica reached into the pockets of his pants, and looked for cash or his wallet. She managed to find the DJ’s Ferragamo wallet, and upon opening it, got utterly disappointed with the fact that all it had was this one ATM card. Again, Jessica stood, stumped.<br />Meanwhile, a group of call center agents who lived in one of the apartments in the neighborhood passed by the odd couple and noticed the strikingly bizarre scenario. Not wanting them to think that she was at fault for anything, Jessica got her acting skills together, then suddenly screamed at Micah, who was sprawled helplessly on the pavement: “Pathetic drunkard! If only you worked as much as you drank then maybe we could afford to send our son to school! What are you doing with your life?! Is that it!? Are you happy living the life of a leech!? We can’t live like this! Stop being such a moronic slob, and actually do something!”</span><a title="" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn5" href="http://emperoremil.multiply.com/journal/compose#_ftn5" name="_ftnref5"><span style="font-family:georgia;">[5]</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;"> The call center agents watched the scene for a few seconds, then left; one of them, recognizing the man on the floor as DJ Micah, shook his head in disapproval, and said, “That’s just too bad. He played the best music in the city.”<br />They then got into their building. One of them though withdrew from an ATM located at the base of building first before catching up with his colleagues.<br /><br />Jessica was so pleased with herself, but this self-satisfaction didn’t do much help in squeezing cash out of Micah, who, though conscious, was just so impaired by the alcohol that he couldn’t move from his position. The woman now felt another need for a dab of lipstick. As she looked into her purse looking for the Maybelline gloss, she found a tiny bottle of those perfume samples from Michael Kors. Her eyes sparked, and she smiled. She sat beside Micah’s limp body and made him a proposition: “Micah, what you just had was Berdugo. A little too strong for you, huh? Haha! Well guess what, unless you take the antidote to it, you’re going to have to stay there, in that position, limp for at least the next two days.”<br />Micah laid there, in utter disbelief of Jessica’s treachery. Not that he could do anything about it at this point.<br />“But listen,” Jessica continues. “I am offering you the antidote for Berdugo, in exchange for your number.” Micah’s lips then began to move, his voice was weak, but he tried to speak with all the might possible: “zero…nine..two..zero…four…” Jessica interrupted with a really obnoxious laugh, and clarified herself, “Not that number! It’s not like you even date women! I want your ATM card’s pin number!” Micah laid there, quiet, obviously resistant to divulging the information that could set him back by P40,000. “Consider it, Micah. If I leave you here tonight without that antidote, limp and physically retarded, who knows what might happen to you? Some rabid dog just might take interest in you, or maybe some other creature of the night you don’t want touching you…”<br />This alarmed Micah, causing him to cave in: “one…two..zero…five…” Jessica grinned with the biggest smile ever made by a human being, almost blinding Micah with the flash of her white teeth. She ran to the ATM, and after a number of successive withdrawals, exhausted the account of P40,000, which she fit into her faux Balenciaga.</span><a title="" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn6" href="http://emperoremil.multiply.com/journal/compose#_ftn6" name="_ftnref6"><span style="font-family:georgia;">[6]</span></a><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">As she walked by Micah, the DJ stretched his hand out, wanting the antidote Jessica promised. Jessica smirked, held the little bottle like a cigarette, and threw it away into the far distance. She walked away, leaving Micah lying on the pavement. Soon enough, another group of call center agents chanced upon Micah, helped him up and brought him to their apartment where he could recover from his involuntary drunkenness. He was fine after a couple of hours.<br /><br />And so Jessica never had to do queues again.<br /></span><a title="" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1" href="http://emperoremil.multiply.com/journal/compose#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1"><span style="font-family:georgia;">[1]</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;"> Usurpation of civil status or estafa?<br /></span><a title="" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn2" href="http://emperoremil.multiply.com/journal/compose#_ftnref2" name="_ftn2"><span style="font-family:georgia;">[2]</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;"> Acts of lasciviousness?<br /></span><a title="" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn3" href="http://emperoremil.multiply.com/journal/compose#_ftnref3" name="_ftn3"><span style="font-family:georgia;">[3]</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;"> Homicide thru reckless imprudence or death caused in a tumultuous affray?<br /></span><a title="" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn4" href="http://emperoremil.multiply.com/journal/compose#_ftnref4" name="_ftn4"><span style="font-family:georgia;">[4]</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;"> Kidnapping or illegal detention or grave coercion?<br /></span><a title="" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn5" href="http://emperoremil.multiply.com/journal/compose#_ftnref5" name="_ftn5"><span style="font-family:georgia;">[5]</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;"> Slander?<br /></span><a title="" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn6" href="http://emperoremil.multiply.com/journal/compose#_ftnref6" name="_ftn6"><span style="font-family:georgia;">[6]</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;"> Estafa or robbery?</span></div>Emperor Emilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16456624875541234399noreply@blogger.com69tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-794707671968500683.post-85821131777648782282007-08-30T22:43:00.000+08:002007-08-30T22:55:25.085+08:00Feeling old for your age? Well you're not alone...<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Is it just me or are all twenty-plus people under the same amount of stress?<br />Really now; when just like me you too are in that age group of twenty-one to twenty-nine, then you’ll probably be able to relate to what I’m about to say. I mean we are so young, but gosh, the stress we have to endure at such young an age is just totally unbelievable! Seriously! And I’m not even working yet so I couldn’t just imagine what my contemporaries in the labor market are dealing with. But hey, I’m not exactly in a bed of roses either. Maybe a bed of thorns? Or nails? Or road spikes? Whatever, you get the point .<br />I don’t know about those who have, at least at this moment, chosen the lifestyle called “bumming,” but whether you’re working at some multinational capitalist company, or competing with your way-older classmates while earning your masters degree, or giving it all out for law school albeit it all seems for naught, being at this age is surprisingly stressful. Tough work, inhumane law school, competitive and gossip-loving colleagues, classmates with whom you have apparently irreconcilable personality differences…whatever it is, you have to admit: there’s just so much sh*t in life, and it seems as the sh*t just piles up and up, until it’s so high that giving up and running away appears to be the easy solution.<br />Yes, we’re young, but who could have thought that we’d age so fast in a matter of months?<br />I’m not sure if anyone else can relate to it, but sometimes, when I talk with other people about the fatigue and the stress of being at this age, I can’t help but theorize as to why we’re enduing so much (or at least why we feel we’re enduring so much). You might think, “Oh there he goes again with all those actually meaningless rationalizations…etc.”, but hey, can I help it? Social Science major-duh! And besides, you probably will relate to this.<br />Upon graduating from college, it seems as though the world is ours to conquer. Suddenly we’re independent, suddenly we’re making our own decisions. We don’t have to deal with curfews (at least most of us do), we can travel to anywhere we want (on its face something patently false), club all we want, and basically do everything without anyone having to watch over our every move. Freedom!<br />But the party is cut short.<br />Then comes the rather late (but should have been obvious anyway) realization that with greater independence comes so much responsibility. We’re set “free,” we’re out there in the world “deciding for ourselves,” when really, we carry with us the heavy load of expectations of…well, everyone! You do realize that it’s not just you banking in on your future, or what’s set to happen in your life right? That alone creates such a heavy burden-but wait, there’s more!<br />Then there’s that odd internal own age ambivalence phenomenon; if it’s an ugly, unscientific-sounding name, then you try coming up with a name! (Though it really is an ugly, unscientific-sounding name…) What I’ve realized about being at this age is that it’s so easy for us to accept the independence and the positive features of (hold on to your seats-) adulthood, but there are just so many things about being nine or thirteen or sixteen or eighteen that, upon entering “grown-upness” (yet another ugly invented term), we inevitably have to give up. And usually, these are the things that provide for us comfort, that protect us from stress or tension or whatever negative it is out there. Especially if you’re away from home (i.e. working or studying in Manila, away from the “province” [Yes, everyone in Manila is still convinced that only their city is urban and the rest of the Philippines doesn’t have electricity yet…let’s save that for another entry]), then you’ll know how difficult it is to be away from all that’s comfortable and familiar.<br />But hey, we're still young right? At the end of the day, nothing can get more youthful than a twenty-one year old drooling over a bottle of Red Horse and dancing all over club!</span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><strong>Yes, I'm gonna part-teey! Haha!</strong></span></div>Emperor Emilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16456624875541234399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-794707671968500683.post-47340321597038038612007-08-30T22:40:00.000+08:002007-08-30T22:43:17.408+08:00Girl, dump the guy!<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">It's harsh but someone has to say it.<br />One of the most fascinating phenomena in life (as fascinating as the fact that sea cucumbers expel their internal organs when they get threatened) is that phenomena called: great-girl-falls-for-the-biggest-loser-in-the-whole-world. Before YOU get all paranoid, can I just say that I'm writing this without any particular person in mind; in fact, I want it to reach all those girls out there who thrive on the hope that they could salvage a single ounce of dignity and honor in those entities otherwise called losers.<br />I never really got this. When I talk to some of these unfortunate girls I hear some of the funniest reasons: like, "Yeah I'm sure he'll want to do something in life." or "You just don't get him." or "Give him some time." or "She's just his friend!", and the bestseller, "But I love him!"<br />Open your eyes girl, he's not worth it!<br />Seriously, why this happens is totally beyond my understanding. Sometimes, after having the aforementioned two or three hours endure with some lady friend talking about her (in)significant other, I try to come up with rational explanations behind such occurrence. When I say rational, I mean that which a person of common sense can accept as valid and highly-probable. Could it be that these girls just can't help but pity these guys, and mistake that pity for love? Or could it be that these girls simply want a raise of self-esteem so they'd constantly surround themselves with persons who, when they see, make them feel good about themselves? Or maybe it's just that these girls actually suffer from some sort of a semi-messianic complex, believing that it's their mission in life to save certain guys from total loserdom? I don't know about you, but there could be some truth behind these theories. Or are you just too blind to see it, or too defensive that you don't even want to open your eyes?<br />Girl, trite as it may seem, it's true: there are a lot of fish in the ocean (or lakes, or rivers, or seas).<br />Seriously, why settle? The other thing I don't understand is the unusually high level of permanency these girls have put into these relationships. No, I am not advocating casual relationships, but neither am I saying that you guys must get married (If I wanted to ruin your life, this is what I'd tell you...), all I'm saying is that there's absolutely no reason for you to invest so much time and emotions into a person who you yourself are not sure of! If you, the girlfriend, actually think the guy's a bit of a loser, imagine what the rest of the world thinks!? It's not that it's what other people think that should matter...well, who are we kidding? It does matter.<br />Definitely, my authority to dish out advice to people about relationships is questionable. Let me clarify this: in no way do I represent myself as someone knowledgeable, more so, an expert on relationships! But then, first, this is more of about me taking pre-emptive measures to prevent the eventual deterioration of your self-respect and dignity thanks to Mr.Wrong. There is absolutely nothing wrong with thinking about yourself. If the guy can't even make an effort to make things better for him, how far do you think would he go for you? Beyond the bedroom, I hope-but I doubt. You will not be put in a better situation with that guy; and isn't that what we strive for: better things and conditions? It's about YOU!<br />And second, my ears are practically bleeding from all those stories! (So yes, it's really still about ME!)<br />Girl, wake up! YOu can do better than that!<br />(Yes, I feel the need to put this into writing, so the next time someone asks me about it, I could just refer her [or him, if you know what I mean] to my blog, so as to save us both a couple or three hours of our precious time. Still, this is not the last you'll hear from me about this issue. Trust me.)</span></div>Emperor Emilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16456624875541234399noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-794707671968500683.post-89543671832253201792007-07-29T14:05:00.000+08:002007-07-29T14:42:09.532+08:00Celebrity Mugshots<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Having attended a party with "Criminal" as the theme suddenly got me thinking about three lovely ladies who I would think would have inspired some people's outfit for the said evening. But then, no one actually wore a "criminal outfit" as I should have expected. I however was wearing my ordinary clothes, upon which I could insist that I came as Andrew Cunanan, the infamous Fil-Am murderer of Versace.</span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Meanwhile I've really got to give it to this girl Paris.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092500327571000274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXY75dSvwPONyDJQEdDnl5iJ_vsebe5JShIWiwjIPkGDUYaAFeGWlJfSyPVbsiznnjmr5TlvGp9tVcLL0LeV9roTDwrCL0Z3eVctCXW40GfSkiZ3M3W0y-vyvXPUIyF2K-HwGObVnU52xX/s320/parismugshot1.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">When you know you're doomed for jail, with a cozen or so big-bodied woman who barely fit that description of...well, a woman, dying to make you their b*tch (rhymes with hitch), the last thing you'd think of is making the right pose for the photographer taking your picture, and of course, giving you're sweetest smile. But no, Paris is in an absolute league of her own. When usually the normal person worries about his liberty, or about how he's ever going to get unscathed, Ms.Hilton, as usual, worries that she might give a bad picture! Now that is poise under pressure. Let me qualify: extremely unnecessary and clueless poise under pressure.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Still, it's poise. Kudos for everyone who never wants a bad picture of him or her self taken!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I am totally disappointed at Lindsay Lohan's shot. Surely she must have foreseen the possibility of her arrest taking place any time soon, given everything that she has been doing, and yet she fails to prepare for this event! I mean is she trying to say something in this picture? Or is she so high that she thinks that guy in front of her is still a paparazzi? Well let's just hope she didn't run over him or something.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092500653988514786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC_XDIJ6wcgX5zBX1VTrLjhXVE2dwokPWd_tDBysVX0pSTYY3HFoYLkY1zmgvV8TPCY6eY5k0OOlz3KjtsgT2hZq9T3VXt8uEyQzZulJgIsW4aqVF_W6S-pSi3WJJ4u1hmkrCUio46eNCE/s320/0724071lohan1.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;">I love Nicole Richie but her hair is without a doubt the messiest of the three. The "main bang" is in place but all the other strands are pointed towards various directions, hoping to escape from the humiliating situation their owner has put herself into. I love the look of her face though...it's almost as if she's flirting with the photographer. Lovely.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092500997585898482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKghPgnWUOxwGBSZHc7pu__RlGU6n7atNXl58kI_3gIl36RFtTGbILE4Kkqor_Hwg1ktkL75z_0T7TYUW4eFskUmCjdooZMToInofFPR9ZHfw8jAM_fi2I9qnlwAVjvkL5UEQU6Yf-NtG7/s320/nicolerichiemug1.jpg" border="0" /></span><br /></div>Emperor Emilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16456624875541234399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-794707671968500683.post-87648444541598570742007-07-20T19:02:00.000+08:002007-07-20T19:07:04.577+08:00Random thoughts on DIETS<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">There's a reason the word diet is the way it is, and why it means what it does. I don't know if anyone has, like I, come to the simple conclusion that it really is a combination of two concepts. The first three letters of the said word spell out "die," simply because going on one almost feels like dying. But that's not all; the "t" in the end stands for "thin", so in effect, a "diet" is a dying desire to be thin. Well, either it's a "t" for thin or it's how you want to look like after your diet, that is with you're arms stretched out. But any way you look at it, it makes sense.<br /><br />Going on diets means making huge sacrifices, sacrifices which necessarily entails the voluntary desistance from life's essentials and imperatives for sustenance and survival otherwise called food. Yes, going on diets necessarily sucks. But yet, we love engaging in them as if our will power was so strong that it could resist the sweetest mousse or the darkest chocolate or the juiciest slab of grilled pork.<br /><br />Wow, the image of those above-mentioned items wants to make me punch my fist into the monitor.<br /><br />Meanwhile, those who are strong enough to resist from the life process we call eating have to endure that freaking hunger that has to come with the diet. Whoever said diets are fun hasn't gone through it. Going on a diet is the strangest way and possibly cruelest way to punish one's self.<br /><br />Some people really need to go on diets, for health concerns of course. I mean a deep, contemplative, anti-superficial person like me would like to think that health reasons would be a person's primary concern for trying to be fit. Still there are those who simply suffer from BDD, or are actually very fat depending on whose perspective it is you take.<br /><br />I have said absolutely nothing because I intend not to.</span></div>Emperor Emilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16456624875541234399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-794707671968500683.post-10328512378862517472007-07-20T18:27:00.000+08:002007-07-20T18:45:55.756+08:00COMPELLING TRENDS for Men, Spring 2008<br><br><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzs07nM8dA9eepH2ygWicASDImDObKzcOXD_s8v9MufnEj0edRJ9ZAsr9R24eV-z4TzHGnuKHG6ARGS58mqW84RLubGrgYsi__i43gXaKVACANNPMf8oA4TS5PpZFKYIVVCPppvGvbK6Ev/s1600-h/yohji.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089225453620830482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzs07nM8dA9eepH2ygWicASDImDObKzcOXD_s8v9MufnEj0edRJ9ZAsr9R24eV-z4TzHGnuKHG6ARGS58mqW84RLubGrgYsi__i43gXaKVACANNPMf8oA4TS5PpZFKYIVVCPppvGvbK6Ev/s320/yohji.jpg" border="0" /></a> the see-through...from yohji yamamoto<br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHrBTOhgyssUs3yAWsFwUCQJrW4OkAvz0TohoQ2kmcSikkUt8Zdar4J0hDOZcW07smylqfU0HqWq_G0z2iBx8PTrED00rnMQw7q3SoEjlhrV_NJkaUExtyJO7l_ZKjb2FoqQWvLs8BYApf/s1600-h/salvato%20hint%20of%20color.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089225384901353730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHrBTOhgyssUs3yAWsFwUCQJrW4OkAvz0TohoQ2kmcSikkUt8Zdar4J0hDOZcW07smylqfU0HqWq_G0z2iBx8PTrED00rnMQw7q3SoEjlhrV_NJkaUExtyJO7l_ZKjb2FoqQWvLs8BYApf/s320/salvato%2520hint%2520of%2520color.jpg" border="0" /></a>the hints of color...from salvatorre ferragamo</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnElhTsI9Uw25k6hMCEN1GC5X7s4WLlzYlOouSwhq4WmfSL8EqW4sKXNhW0qH56YRXPmaKqeOOfEj4TsbPxkkfVZrcFycAu9S-0O3w7nW4mWWqBPM83kAoxrg0-wxx9uRpX8K_KqsOA37t/s1600-h/salva%20biker.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089225324771811570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnElhTsI9Uw25k6hMCEN1GC5X7s4WLlzYlOouSwhq4WmfSL8EqW4sKXNhW0qH56YRXPmaKqeOOfEj4TsbPxkkfVZrcFycAu9S-0O3w7nW4mWWqBPM83kAoxrg0-wxx9uRpX8K_KqsOA37t/s320/salva%2520biker.jpg" border="0" /></a> the biker jacket..from salvatorre ferragamo</p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjExzAMe3mrpvzknzKpajy44UmsbEMKwJ2qTW2iAhX1p4foLsYDP-_dYxWACuVlBeuktJUVOzm0K43WPyPcINtUeAQaX_V5j_tyahXC4sdWX5Yy4Lwr6nQY0FL45-YQwU9aUCSNb9azMQW/s1600-h/non-natural%20burb.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089225015534166226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjExzAMe3mrpvzknzKpajy44UmsbEMKwJ2qTW2iAhX1p4foLsYDP-_dYxWACuVlBeuktJUVOzm0K43WPyPcINtUeAQaX_V5j_tyahXC4sdWX5Yy4Lwr6nQY0FL45-YQwU9aUCSNb9azMQW/s320/non-natural%2520burb.jpg" border="0" /></a> the non-natural and neon colors...from burberry</p><p align="center"><br /></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTTgXCfjjmLLkLuk2uh-208UHOE0pKkbvt2Hy2P0ufS5E103f122AwcXg6uOJrRajnjTIy4PJcBtIH0k7ix2TZZGbdkiVs7VSJ5fPbVrZD4ZaM-TNMMmUfLBJjxgTrLHeP0_jauoUX5Vc_/s1600-h/louis%20hockney.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089224903865016514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTTgXCfjjmLLkLuk2uh-208UHOE0pKkbvt2Hy2P0ufS5E103f122AwcXg6uOJrRajnjTIy4PJcBtIH0k7ix2TZZGbdkiVs7VSJ5fPbVrZD4ZaM-TNMMmUfLBJjxgTrLHeP0_jauoUX5Vc_/s320/louis%2520hockney.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />the hockney...from louis vuitton</p><p align="center"></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEineIFxY90inPUGwfFptJXsAHM8_rliWsfSKKEgNmr0NRdA52ffCsAbEF_2xX8ORsIUsxT5rK8x7rOHA2pAyMbHZbspbJk-cjostPfpCp3Ne0hRVZ1wdFFIYOBPOgfYG_xuwptrwnr458WV/s1600-h/giorgo%20light.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089224796490834098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEineIFxY90inPUGwfFptJXsAHM8_rliWsfSKKEgNmr0NRdA52ffCsAbEF_2xX8ORsIUsxT5rK8x7rOHA2pAyMbHZbspbJk-cjostPfpCp3Ne0hRVZ1wdFFIYOBPOgfYG_xuwptrwnr458WV/s320/giorgo%2520light.jpg" border="0" /></a> the light and layered look...from giorgio armani </p><p align="center"><br /></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijB9ZKhi3f5xBN2yTq8aX30h5roH_EpRNAicESOGINN3QvzonG2U5glypNxLJMsJhD62A-cBKBkge1hA05-G_HvKijUWYuxZTywrC8bZuNfZx2loWJv53X66gOkibj1ToPs8bVyK2WdCce/s1600-h/dior%20homme.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089224448598483106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijB9ZKhi3f5xBN2yTq8aX30h5roH_EpRNAicESOGINN3QvzonG2U5glypNxLJMsJhD62A-cBKBkge1hA05-G_HvKijUWYuxZTywrC8bZuNfZx2loWJv53X66gOkibj1ToPs8bVyK2WdCce/s320/dior%2520homme.jpg" border="0" /></a> the hammer pants...from dior homme<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkqVlml_3OBhai7v98qWYh00LwNEwGryrtwU92q4z16_skyBEOnhBXRq6U1yv7rffe1tCuyHH40SJTUgVqPufFDa72a6r5A7-uEnIvLoXWJqTtywQzF2V7yio6MBOuLqHKS0hJz3Pop5Zd/s1600-h/d%20&%20G%20formal.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089224293979660434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkqVlml_3OBhai7v98qWYh00LwNEwGryrtwU92q4z16_skyBEOnhBXRq6U1yv7rffe1tCuyHH40SJTUgVqPufFDa72a6r5A7-uEnIvLoXWJqTtywQzF2V7yio6MBOuLqHKS0hJz3Pop5Zd/s320/d%2520%2526%2520G%2520formal.jpg" border="0" /></a> the shawl and the formal outfit...from dolce and gabana </p><p align="center"><br /></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9O5JgLYjX-jRTccMqrtiFOcvSWDhtMCVQ7jFdCeHJwefF6pTiZolyZTJgfwnTHWs1_MdwXpZwuqGW1Jo5cT-Zc0xU8sK4FY26iJ_aaKQzIvUw76rTKQpNHbVkRWQbkB-uGntkf6s5Z_SP/s1600-h/cropped%20commes%20des%20garcons.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089224135065870466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9O5JgLYjX-jRTccMqrtiFOcvSWDhtMCVQ7jFdCeHJwefF6pTiZolyZTJgfwnTHWs1_MdwXpZwuqGW1Jo5cT-Zc0xU8sK4FY26iJ_aaKQzIvUw76rTKQpNHbVkRWQbkB-uGntkf6s5Z_SP/s320/cropped%2520commes%2520des%2520garcons.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p align="center">Cropped pants from commes des garcons...<br /><br /><br /></p><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB4jLWSHT2aNf4gI_vLesWgJAScA9uH7PUpLaJM3PfHz9fyyxpeM3mv0PSQqoWH9drVT9tOOmk5q_NTvwlBhB8dpGlSBKyAgNy12s9G2u_XozMQ-O5tR1zgLOwU4JRsyO_cYC6c53ptLwJ/s1600-h/pj%20prada.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089225221692596450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB4jLWSHT2aNf4gI_vLesWgJAScA9uH7PUpLaJM3PfHz9fyyxpeM3mv0PSQqoWH9drVT9tOOmk5q_NTvwlBhB8dpGlSBKyAgNy12s9G2u_XozMQ-O5tR1zgLOwU4JRsyO_cYC6c53ptLwJ/s320/pj%2520prada.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p align="center">the pajamas...from prada<br /></p>Emperor Emilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16456624875541234399noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-794707671968500683.post-52203596602865489292007-07-07T20:19:00.000+08:002007-07-07T20:35:36.243+08:00Battle of the Supermodel Blogs<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVTi4q2rbuFdXawX6FkA4bs1EO_5wPq7fwcgafq60afBHY8eNhocGXECqql6wKxlUWB6BbQFKLsKIxSwBFbgK14NXbhYCfwE-ncefUdx9H0-oMhXBdUUZEiUvrAifGWPRofZpyHl7cBKpz/s1600-h/1380_image0.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084431737166213730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVTi4q2rbuFdXawX6FkA4bs1EO_5wPq7fwcgafq60afBHY8eNhocGXECqql6wKxlUWB6BbQFKLsKIxSwBFbgK14NXbhYCfwE-ncefUdx9H0-oMhXBdUUZEiUvrAifGWPRofZpyHl7cBKpz/s320/1380_image0.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">On a lighter note, I've recently noticed that one of my favorite blogs on the internet has been running short on entries. I'm talking about elysesewell.livejournal.com, one of my favorite top models. In case you've followed America's Next To Model like a mad, loyal dog follows his strongly-odored master, then you'll probably kno0w her as Robyn's sworn enemy from Season 1. I think it started like as a battle of the moral and the immoral, Robyn supposedly being the epitome of morality and everything religious (read: BLIND DOGMATIC HYPOCRITE) and Elyse was like the atheist one; but of the two, Robyn was like THE bitch. Also, you've probably seen her in Giordano ads and posters.</span></div><br /><p align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Anyway, she didn't win but hey, she looks like she's doing well in Asia. I guess those types really do well in this continent. By saying those types I mean the really tall, extremely thin, with pasty-white skin, short jet black hair, and wide almond eyes models: they're well-received here in Asia. Norelle, from Season 3, is doing great in Japan. </span></p><br /><div align="justify"><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">So this is about Elyse. Aside from the fact that it's rare to find a supermodel capable of producing thoughts, I also love Elyse for the fact that not only does she have thoughts, but her thoughts actually make sense! She's really smart! I love the fact that she knows she's a supermodel, but still, she doesn't have to be a major bitch or diva about it! She actually makes a lot of interesting quips about the industry. As a matter of fact, her first entries have been compiled and published as a book: Beauty and Biz. </span></div><br /><div align="justify"><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">But probably one of the most interesting things she's written about was when she, out of utter spontaneity, decided to go to the Philippines after some mishap at the airport. I mean hello!? A supermodel in the Philippines? How is that even possible?! I mean as far as I know, there's always been one! </span></div><br /><div align="justify"><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Haha! </span></div><br /><div align="justify"><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Here's part of wat she had to say about her trip: </span></div><br /><div align="justify"><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">"My travel plans weren't even halfway baked. I just knew that I wanted to get some Filipino sand in my crack, and I only wanted to travel over land and water, not fly. I ended up taking a bus from Manila to Batangas and a boat to the island of Mindoro, then went all over Mindoro by boat and moto, spending three nights on three different beaches. It was unbelievably easy and cheap to travel, the beaches were lovely, and two out of three were secluded enough to please me. But ultimately I was uninspired by the lack of fresh food endemic to a tourist center accessible only by boat, by the mildew-impregnated Tom Clancy (barf!) I begged off a front-desk clerk, and by the whore-humping hordes of tourists I encountered in northern Mindoro's main city, Puerto Galera." </span></div><br /><div align="justify"><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I so love her! By the way, she also used to be a med student but she had to quit to pursue modeling. And before med, she's already earned degrees in Biology and Spanish, both earned in three years! Wow, the fashion industry is just so fascinating it never fails to attract the brightest minds! Haha! </span></div><br /><div align="justify"><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">And this, my friend, marks the beginning of the war of the supermodel blogs!</span></div>Emperor Emilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16456624875541234399noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-794707671968500683.post-16046519412492061882007-07-06T20:05:00.000+08:002007-07-06T20:09:50.129+08:00Surviving the Snake Pit<div align="justify">If by some great misfortune you you find yourself in a hole with these treacherous, heartless, poisonous creatures with your demise as their ultimate goal, here are some things you can do for you to survive. I tell you it's not going to be the easiest thing to do, but sometimes we just have to realize that if you try to be <span style="font-family:verdana;">nice</span> to these wicked things, they will destroy you! So what's it gonna be? </div><div align="justify"><br />1. Don't think that one of the snakes will be on your side to help you. </div><div align="justify"><br />Again, snakes are extremely treacherous. Don't be fooled by even the nice-looking ones that seem completely harmless. They may fool you with their grace, but their sting kills the most. The sea snake for instance may mesmerize swimmers, especially with the way it moves underwater. But then, it just wants you dead like all others. Sea snakes are usually aquatic, but they may jump in that snake hole even if they don't belong there! The fact that both of you don't belong there may lead you to believe that it is on your side. </div><div align="justify"><br />2. Snakes usually begin the kill with a sweet embrace. </div><div align="justify"><br />The constrictors cause a lot of confusion. At first, you may think that the snake is just playing around with you, trying to make you think that it's not really that cold-blooded animal that has been established as a fact by science. But then the embrace becomes tighter, and tighter, until you become the cold-blooded animal as your blood has effectively stopped flowing. So be cautious about those that hug you, because they just might kill you. </div><div align="justify"><br />3. Learn to differentiate the non-poisonous snakes from the poisonous ones, as some of them may have similar patterns. </div><div align="justify"><br />The milk snake with it's red, black and orange rings may be mistaken for the coral snake which has the same colors. While the former poses no threat to you, the latter is just like most snakes: seemingly harmless but deadly. Remember though that the non-poisonous snakes aren't really on your side, as they usually do nothing but watch as their fellow snakes sting you to death. </div><div align="justify"><br />4. Never turn your back on the snakes. </div><div align="justify"><br />Snakes just love it when you're at your most vulnerable, because then they can all act in unison and bite you when they can! Always be aware of their movements. Take note of their overt actions which may betray an intention to destroy you; know the snakes well. One way to do this is to think in the ways they do. </div><div align="justify"><br />5. Get ready to suck, and spit out, the poison. </div><div align="justify"><br />It is simply inevitable that in a snake pit with that many snakes one of them would be lucky or smart enough to have bitten you despite your resistance. Suck it in, then spit it out! You don't want that toxic substance inside you, because if it doesn't kill you, then it might have some adverse effects on those outside of the snake pit whom you would, as much as possible, want protected. Although this has yet to be proven, it's always better to leave the toxic with the snakes as these are the creatures who love it so much anyway! </div><div align="justify"><br />6. Adapt quick. </div><div align="justify"><br />Sometimes you just have to be in the snake pit for a long time, because climbing out of it may take days, months, or even years! As human beings, we usually become immune of toxic substances anyway, so if you have to suck it in, don't spit it out! I mean they're going to keep biting and stinging so, gradually take it in until their bites no longer pose any danger. Because then, you're sting or bite might even be more fatal. When that happens, take a rest from all that thinking and analyzing these reptiles. Relax. </div><div align="justify"><br />7. Turn the tables. The prey has now become the predator. </div><div align="justify"><br />Although they may have been powerful at first, remember that you can achieve the impossible just by thinking over the whole situation deliberately, then thinking in the way your enemy would. Getting back at the snakes may seem like stooping down to their level, but then, if you want to be vindicated, go ahead. They have their killer instincts, you tried to keep yours under control, but given that doing so doesn't work, then just go for you feel is necessary. Snakes are animals too after all that may just be trying to protect their space or something. That's understandable. But then, when not only are they doing no good but in fact harming you, it's time to make a move. </div><div align="justify"><br />And in the end, you may have just conquered the snake pit.</div>Emperor Emilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16456624875541234399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-794707671968500683.post-8080308625308246072007-07-04T19:52:00.000+08:002007-07-04T19:54:37.376+08:00What a mess, what a mess, what a mess, what a really big mess!<p align="justify"><span style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;font-size:100%;">Whew! Just when I was beginning another pattern of a non-productive behavior which basically involves not finishing or continuing something that I've started (i.e. ditching my blog, haha!), I've decided that hey, maybe I don't want to be stuck doing the wrong things anymore! I mean right now, I'm at that point where one more mistake, one more misstep may mean diasaster, or maybe absolute liberation and freedom (Haha! Well depending on how you look at it...Anyway I'm sure you're not getting that probably because it's a purely personal issue.). Really, now is when I can really say it's either a make it or break it situation. And as I've said, I want to put an end to all the negative things that aren't really helping me "make it." See, the difficult part is translating the attitude into the right behavior or actions. Sure, I really want to kick some serious law ass, but then, thinking that can only get me so far...or as I've learned yesterday, even nowhere!</span></p><span style="font-size:100%;"> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="justify"><br /></p></span> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;font-size:100%;">Obviously I'm not at the peak of my academic career right now. </span></p><span style="font-size:100%;"> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="justify"><br /></p></span> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;font-size:100%;">Now THAT is undermining the scenario which is actually far worse.</span></p><span style="font-size:100%;"> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="justify"><br /></p></span> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;font-size:100%;">But then, I can't really blame myself for such a sloppy school week. Well for one, moving my stuff is so exhausting! Just last week, I officially moved from my previous place of temporary residence in Tandang Sora to one of the dorms within UP. It's great that I'm finally in UP now right? But then, moving was't so easy especially when you find out that, once you've moved in, certain essentials of living are missing. Imagine life with no chairs, no pillows, and no cabinets: I had to live with that for one night! Well I got the chair and the pillow now (after what seemed like a never-ending ordeal of having to shop for these big bulky things in SM), but I'm still waiting for the cabinet!</span></p><span style="font-size:100%;"> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="justify"><br /></p></span> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;font-size:100%;">Still, it's great that I'm finally housed within UP. Although moving proved to be a serious pain in the ass, I'm sure the returns in the long run will be worth it. Besides, it's a great dorm, especially when compared to all other dorms in UP. </span></p><span style="font-size:100%;"> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="justify"><br /></p></span> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;font-size:100%;">So...what was I saying?</span></p><span style="font-size:100%;"> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="justify"><br /></p></span> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;font-size:100%;">Oh, being messy and all that. See that's what Im talking about. I really think that I need to get myself together, otherwise, it would be just one big...pfft. Haha! But seriously, there are just some things that I'm realizing right now that would make me feel really guilty if I INTENTIONALLY or NEGLIGENTLY do some major mess right now. And I really don't want to go through all that drama. The challenge for me right now is to make this real, actually start working on it. I don't want to be paranoid and think that the odds are against me, but thinking that would hopefully help propel me into doing the right things. And now that I've pretty much established myself in that dorm, I hope that this move would help maybe tilt the playing field in my favor.</span></p><span style="font-size:100%;"> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="justify"><br /></p></span> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;font-size:100%;">I know it seems like I'm ranting and whining, but writing and letting it out is actually one way of how I can reflect on it and hopefully do some serious thinking AND acting about whatever situation I am in. Law school continuosuly proves itself to be a challenge to all aspects of a person's being: intellectual, emotional, psychological, even physical! And right now, I would indulge in all possible means of catharsis just to brush it off!</span></p><span style="font-size:100%;"> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="justify"><br /></p></span> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;font-size:100%;">Of course, there's also: WORK, WORK, WORK.</span></p><span style="font-size:100%;"> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="justify"><br /></p></span> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in;" align="justify"><span style="font-family:Verdana, sans-serif;font-size:100%;">I just don't want it to be such a mess anymore.</span></p>Emperor Emilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16456624875541234399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-794707671968500683.post-19036284723544773542007-06-12T18:50:00.000+08:002007-06-12T18:57:56.968+08:00ONE GREAT IRONY: First Day as a Sopohomore in Law School...on Independence DayHah! You probably thought that I wouln't be writing that much considerning the fact that today marks the beginning of another year in law school. Sure, it gets busy, but hey, I'm just making the most of my time.<br />Man, the heat of Manila is killing me!<br />As I mentioned, on this day, I am going to back as a sophomore in law school. By now, it would be easy to assume that I've probably gotten used to all the crap that has to be dealt with once you enter theis "grand" instituion. Now that I think about it, I'd say that it's too early to make a judgment.<br />So the ironic thing is the first day of classes having to begin on Independence Day...<br />Now why is that just so ironic that I even have to blog about it? Well, for anyone who has ever entered school, high school, college, law school, or whatever, you'd probably know what I'm talking about. See, the thing with school, or at least how they make us experience it, is that it just takes so much of your freedom that sometimes you'd find yourself questiong whether you're still in school or at some place where people are detained. You could think of it as prison, or maybe a mental assylum, whichever you think seems more apt for your situation. Sure, the whole process of learning and education has as one its goals the emancipation of the individual from the clutches of ingorance. I definitely agree with that. But then, I feel that it takes so much away from you, like your creativity, or imagination and replaces it with information that are...just not you. Yes, the effort to impart knowledge is appreaciated, but to actually force ideals and thoughts and opinions and whatever-that's not right. How do you expect someone to grow into his or her own person with all these dictates?My complaint is probably a sentiment that just has built up from my experience in law school. Is it just me being paranoid or is this some sort of a grand plan to rob me of my individuality so I can become some robot which this school has planned out to be its perfect product?<br />This is definitely not an attack on education, because, I for one recognize the importance of it and I think that everyone who has the opportunity must take hold of it and do well with it, because trust me, this will bring you a long way. I guess my concern is how they carry it out and how they let the students experience it.<br />Locked up in an insitution that that frees you...having been unjustly treated by a system that advociates justice and fairness...unlawfulness in law school...some of the many ironies I'm beginning to realize today.<br />Or should I have just expected them?<br /><strong>***</strong><br /><strong>Let's get this thing going...</strong>Emperor Emilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16456624875541234399noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-794707671968500683.post-71144788424187187062007-06-11T00:18:00.000+08:002007-06-11T00:29:12.915+08:00Thoughts on a cigarette<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">As I was waiting for…well, pretty much anything to happen on this Sunday afternoon, I decided to hang out at one of the verandas at SM Baguio to have a cigarette. I really just wanted to hang out and chill out as I spend my remaining hours in Baguio. It sucks that I'll have to leave what, in comparison to Manila, is pure heaven. (Debatable? I'll talk about that soon.) Sure I'll be coming back, but given my totally messed-up schedule for the first semester, I just have no idea as to how often coming home will be possible.<br /><br />Anyway, as I was having this one lovely stick of Marlboro Lights at the Cottage GI's veranda in SM, I just found myself being bombarded by these seemingly random thoughts of a purely unknown origin. Step inside my head, as it was on June 10, 2007, 4:45 P.M.:<br /><br /><em>You're alone. But that's okay, you're still hot.<br /><br />Wow...(me looking below the veranda). There are so many cars parked in that area and that's not even supposed to be a parking lot. Talk about A LOT of cars. Well, duh, I mean those must be tourist-owned cars. Man I really hate tourists. I know they like bring money and whatever economic improvements, but come on, in the long run, Baguio's going to pay big time for all these tourist-catering structures.<br /><br />Hey I remember that thing (looking over at this circular structure fenced by galvanized iron just across SM). I think we used to go there as kids…oh yeah, we definitely did. I mean the old Pines Hotel pool was just right there, then there are like rocks...and hmm...I don't remember that (notices a little concrete opening right in front of a tree). It looks like a man-made cave. Talk about fertile place for ghosts to live in…creepy! But then, Baguio's known for that.<br /><br />(Gets annoyed by some sudden noise) What are Koreans even doing here? They're everywhere! It's like some Bubonic plague...I don't like them here. Just as I don't like the tourists...I wonder why Koreans smell so bad.<br /><br />I wonder what I should do next. I should probably got sit somewhere. Should I even try calling anyone who might meet up? Aims is with her family...Aliah's on her way to Thailand...Maika hasn't informed me as to her whereabouts just yet...Dani's got to rest...Aggy's got something to take care of...and everyone else is just too boring. Haha. Hey, those are my friends. Anyway, they're in Manila now.<br /><br />And in a few hours, I shall be too.<br /><br />That sucks.<br /><br />Nurses are everywhere! Oh yeah, they just had their exam. Oh no, I didn't even wish my nurse friends luck. I'm sure they'll pass it anyway, I mean we're a smart bunch of people...haha. It's kinda odd though that I've been sending them all these funny or mushy or just absolutely meaningless messages that you forward, thanks to the unlimited promo, but then, I forget to tell them what they really need to hear.<br /><br />This cigarette is taking too long to smoke. I've got to be done with this before someone at Cottage GI's even dares come up to me. Haha. Asshole. I'm here, cigarette on one hand, and clutch bag and umbrella on the other. What a real delightful treat.<br />Maybe I should just go sit at some cafe. Or maybe not. Waitresses are probably starting to get annoyed by the fact that I just go their cafes to sit and wait for someone. Besides, standing is okay I guess.<br /><br />Would you look at those shoes (stares down at own brown, leather shoes)... You know one way to tell that a person is from Baguio? If the shoes got some mud on them! Haha! After all, only people from Baguio tread places where concrete is unknown. Hmm…that's one way to tell if a person's from Baguio. I'm sure there are other ways to tell how, but those are usually the meaner ways. Like considering the prevailing discriminatory but totally ignorant attitude of some people who aren’t from here and think that….well, they live in hell, so whatever.<br /><br />I've got to go buy that player, then go download music.<br /><br />Makes me that much wiser, thanks for making me a fight-e-er! Haha! Love that song.<br /><br />Last puff. The cigarette's almost burned out.<br /><br />Killed it.<br /><br />Dying.<br /><br />Dying.<br /><br />Dead.</em></span></div>Emperor Emilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16456624875541234399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-794707671968500683.post-6786232450586940162007-06-10T02:33:00.000+08:002007-06-10T02:35:14.849+08:00My girl's got trust issues!Got you there, didn't I?<br />Of course some of you, especially those of you who I've been having drinking sessions with this summer, probably didn't fall for that. But then, that's not really the point. Because it's not just about this girl. It's not just about me. It's about all of us with trust issues.<br /><br />Why do some people find it so hard to trust? This question came to me one Saturday afternoon while having some nachos and lemon and honey green tea with a friend in one of the cafes here in the awesome city of Baguio. Somehow, in the course of our lengthy but substantial conversation, we got to the discussion about my friend's, ahem, love life...or wait...should I say lack of it. You see, just like a lot of people out there, including me , my friend seems to have this idea that people out there are coming on to her just so they could break her heart in the future. That's just so almost neurotic, right? As a result, she got this tendency to reject guys even before she can really get to know them. Again, this is sad, and it worries her. I mean after all, what if the right guy came and she decides: "Wait a minute: now that I think about it, I'm sure you'll turn out to be an absolute loser. So…yeah…go away." Now, the thing is, my friend may have just done that.<br /><br />Before going any further, and before you think of this stupid idea: no, I am not using my friend as a symbolization for me. She's real, but try as you might, you will never know who she is.<br />Okay, back to the story. So being the constant opinion-puker (Haha! I so invented that term!) that I am, of course she expected to hear something from me. And what can I say? I don't have stories like hers. So I was thinking…thinking real hard...until I finally came up with an answer which may be an explanation for my own situation. It seems as if that we, in our separate lives, are surrounded by so many people with such sour relationships. Both of us have to deal with our friends' stories about how miserable their lives are with their partner or whoever; like some got cheating boyfriends, or user girlfriends, or this or that, etc. The concept of a relationship just seems so scary because of all the risk and tragedy and pain that has been associated with it! And that is what I say is an absolute adulteration of the concept.<br /><br />As listeners to these horror stories about relationships, there's a great chance that we have been sucked into this vortex of misunderstanding that being in a relationship is hell. I guess this entire process occurs subconsciously; you're not really aware of it, because at first, you think that you're just listening to someone else's love problem. What you don't realize is that: "Hey, this can never happen to me." And so, the things that you wish "would never happen" to you just build up, and so in the end, you don't even want to take that risk. It’s not surprise then that you build these walls and drive everyone away and pretty much take on all pre-emptive measures to make sure that such heartbreak will never have to happen to you.<br /><br />So the next time you sob to a best friend who's single about love woes, or whine to someone who's not in a relationship about you and your partner’s doom, just give it a thought before you decide to go overboard with the drama.<br /><br />Sigh.<br /><br />Yes, she's real, but right now, I'm not sure who I'm talking about.Emperor Emilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16456624875541234399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-794707671968500683.post-90257912127597650382007-06-10T02:30:00.000+08:002007-06-10T02:33:42.835+08:00Totally hurt and frustrated at first, but now, I'm just over it!<div align="justify">Have you ever been in a situation where you have been so close to taking grasp of something you wanted or something you desperately needed that you could almost feel the texture of it on your fingertips, and yet, due to some bizarre, unexplainable event, it turns out that you weren't just close enough? <strong>And to make matters more frustrating, such a small difference, such an almost insignificant distance between your fingertips and that thing, translated to two totally different realities! </strong>That would just suck, won't it? To create an imaginary situation, it would be like joining a competition for obesity where the prize is a billion dollars; after weeks of eating and fattening yourself at McDonald's, you reach a point where you're so full that the single piece of French fry left in the carton would make you vomit. As much as you want to, you can't eat it. Come judgment, it all boils down to two contestants; one of them is you, and the other pretty much resembles you (as far as the massive body is concerned). But then, as fate would have had it, your competition outweighs you by two grams. Later on, you find out that the single French fry weighed three grams.<br /><br />Ouch.<br /><br />No, I did not join a fat contest.<br /><br />But yes, I do find myself in a similar situation right now. Before finding out how close I actually was to achieving what it was I had wanted, I was pretty much comfortable with the idea of admitting defeat. I have conditioned myself with the thought that I won't be getting this thing that I needed! I was fine with that, I was okay. I mean there's a first for everything in life right? Success and failures—sooner or later one of them has to happen. And besides, there were people out there who were facing bigger problems than I was, so it was simply not an option for me to sulk about it.<br /><br />I was almost over it until-it was revealed to me how close I was to reaching that goal. A single neurotransmitter in my brain making the right connection with another transmitter would have made a whole lot of difference. As someone has told me, the difference would have been like being stabbed in the leg, or being completely safe as you watch your companions bleed and suffer in battle. I have just been stabbed in the leg, when I could have just been on the sidelines of the battlefield, unhurt.<br /><br />Anyway, it's so easy to be bitter given those circumstances. The frustration is so great it's almost unbearable. But come to think of it, I just have to keep remembering that in the first place, I have admitted defeat. Being a sore, frustrated loser right now won't really help me. Yes, it could have shown me the more desirable possibilities, but unfortunately, I don't get to live out those possibilities. After all, as I should know, there is always something positive to come out from these experiences, so there really is no good I can gain from being bitter. And one thing:<br /><br /><strong>The world will not have to be shattered by a fucking number.</strong><br /><br />Besides, there's a lot to learn from being stabbed in the leg. It can make you realize you're human, and hey, you do bleed. It can make you realize where you're weak. It can make you realize that you're still alive even after being stabbed in the leg.<strong> It can make you realize where to stab your opponent, to make sure the battle ends with you as the victor.<br /><br />After all, I should know.</strong></div>Emperor Emilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16456624875541234399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-794707671968500683.post-87648494045108035452007-06-10T02:28:00.000+08:002007-06-10T02:29:43.173+08:00MY HOTLIST: Concepts for the Philippines' Next Top Model (with the authentic Pinoy twist)This list is intended for humor of course. But if the show’s running out of ideas, hey, feel free to take some of mine.<br /><br />The truth is that pretty much everyone watching the Philippines' Next Top Model hates the show; even the producers, staff, models, and possibly the judges and the host. Well if the judges and host actually knew anything about the industry and high fashion then they would share this opinion; any opinion on the contrary merely manifests ignorance of the craft.<br />But still we watch it.<br />Anyway, something that the show is criticized about is the fact that it doesn't bring anything originally Pinoy to the show; that is, it needs concepts that integrate some Pinoy flavor. Since the show is but a franchise of the great America's Next Top Model, maybe they should just get some of the ideas from ANTM, and add the necessary unique, local twist.<br /><br />The thing in the air<br />Concept: The model-wannabes would be dressed like glamorous aliens invading the locals deep into the night (as done in season 1).<br />The twist: The location will be at some far-flung neighborhood in the most rural communities in the country, otherwise known as a barrio.<br />You're still in the running if: You're able to maintain a good pose despite the harness, and exude grace despite the discomfort.<br />The journey ends when: The local residents suddenly come to the shoot with lighted torches on the other hand and sharpened bamboo sticks on the other. To your self you're a model, but to them, you're the aswang.<br /><br />The underwater<br />Concept: The girls shall be dressed in flowy couture and shall strike their best poses in water, which is actually a great medium if you know how to work it (as done in season 2).<br />The twist: It's in Pasig River.<br />You're still in the running if: You look great, and manage to use the materials readily available as props. Posing with janitor fish over two feet means plus points.<br />The journey ends when: You emerge from the water looking like one of them humanoids.<br /><br />The animal<br />Concept: It simply requires the girls to deliver a beauty shot with some exotic animals that elicit fear or disgust or some form of revulsion (as done in season 1 and 3).<br />The twist: The creature is the tarsier. Nothing really repulsive about it.<br />You're still in the running if: You don't get freaked out or disgusted by the little thing.<br />The journey ends when: The judges can't tell which one is the exotic, endangered specie.<br /><br />The water spray<br />Concept: Who looks good while being hit by water from pumps? The pressure causes it to be painful, but the girls have still got to look sexy (as done in season 4).<br />The twist: The setting shall be at a really in Mendiola. The water shall be coming from the fire trucks meant for crowd dispersal.<br />You're still in the running if: You look sexy without being too raunchy, and if water splashes on your body well.<br />The journey ends when: You can't make a good shot. Or when you're taken away by the police.<br /><br />The bikini in public<br />Concept: Yes people will be staring, but that's what models should get used to. Minimal clothing at a public place always means maximum exposure (as done in season 1).<br />The twist: It's in Baywalk.<br />You're still in the running if: You don't look fat in the pictures and you can give new poses.<br />The journey ends when: The police arrest you for obscenity. They think you look like one of those cheap starlets from an all-girl aing and dance group!<br /><br />The run<br />Concept: Models have to look great even in motion. Pictures will be taken while they're on the move, Balenciaga bag on one hand and the Prada phone on the other (as done in season 5).<br />The twist: You're in Quiapo and you're running away from robbers who want your bag and your phone. Oh and this is actually happening.<br />You're still in the running if: They're still chasing you.<br />The journey ends when: You lose the merchandise you have to model. You'll have to pay for that.<br /><br />The jewelry beauty shot<br />Concept: A simple beauty shot with the model-wannabes wearing the most high-end pieces from Jacob the Jeweler (as done in season 1).<br />The twist: You're in Taft. Now, you'll be doing poses while avoiding snatchers who desperately want your jewels.<br />You're still in the running if: You're able to exude grace in different poses with the jewelry protected.<br />The journey ends when: Again, you lose the merchandise you have to model. You'll have to pay for that.<br /><br />The body paint<br />Concept: As a model, the girls have to comfortable in their own skin, or even when wearing an something that functions as artificial skin. Paint may be very uncomfortable, but high fashion isn't about comfort (as done in season 2).<br />The twist: You shall be spray painted to become heroines of the Philippines and displayed along EDSA.<br />You're still in the running if: You can show different poses with good transitions in between, and in you can hold these poses long enough without stumbling or falling or what have you.<br />The journey ends when: You get pissed on by a passerby, or when one of your body parts gets stolen, or when the MMDA decides you're an eyesore that has to be demolished.<br /><br />This list is intended for humor of course. But if the show’s running out of ideas, hey, feel free to take some of mine.Emperor Emilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16456624875541234399noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-794707671968500683.post-39118601581766975262007-06-10T02:26:00.000+08:002007-06-10T02:28:10.437+08:00Excessively cruel? No! Harsh? Maybe. Honest? Definitely.<div align="justify">You know what bothers me? It's the fact that people don't seem to appreciate honesty much these days. I mean they ask about things like what's wrong with their hair, or if their clothes are just fugly, or if they got personality issues, and when you, you the designated wisdom holder, give them an answer, what do they do? They shatter in front of you! They break down! They crumble to pieces! And they pretty much feel shamed!</div><div align="justify"><br />Most of all, they wish they had never asked you in the first place!</div><div align="justify"><br />Unfortunately for them, some things simply can't be undone..and some harsh words simply can't be 'unheard.'</div><div align="justify"><br />It really just seems strange that some people would have the guts to ask for someone else's (say, me) opinion about an issue that bothers them or causes them some troubles or whatever (say, a person's manner of dressing). Now, the thing is, when a person does that, what he or she is basically doing is asking for an evaluation from that person, under the belief that the latter possesses adequate knowledge or has expertise over the issue concerned. So any advise that is received must be assumed by the inquirer as given in all good faith by the person answering. Why bash the person for telling the truth? Why seek the truth when you can't even handle it? Most of all, why blame someone else for your totally pathetic insecurities that you yourself, out of your utter boredom and idiocy, generate through the meaningless drama that you believe would spice up your otherwise insipid existence? </div><div align="justify"><br />In case you haven't heard of the classic quote: "If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen!" If you offer yourself as the slice of beef to the able chef, willing to do something about you, don't you expect to be cooked?</div><div align="justify"><br /><strong>MORALE: Think twice before asking a person who tells it as it is; you just might hear what others aren't telling you.</strong></div>Emperor Emilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16456624875541234399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-794707671968500683.post-36153555858278264312007-06-10T02:22:00.000+08:002007-06-10T02:25:58.573+08:00My Very Own MUST NOT ListCan't make a decision about something? Let me make it for you.<br /><br /><strong>Must NOT watch TV show:</strong><br />Anything on local television: Not unless you’ve decided that low is where you want to go! Seriously, even the local news needs to raise the decency level a few notches higher! I mean don’t they wonder why they’re called tabloids on TV?<br />Instead: Arrested Development, America’s Next Top Model, Lost, Ugly Betty, Project Runway, Heroes, Weeds<br /><br /><strong>Must NOT listen to music:</strong><br />Rap and Hip-Hop: Ex-convicts talking about how they screwed, how they got screwed, how they want to screw some more, is not within what can be called music. Please! Oh and by the way, mispronouncing words to make them rhyme is so third world elementary! “If yah ain’t diggin’ the gramma’ nitha’!”, then it’s safe to say you’re not alone.<br />Sell-out OPM Bands: Why settle for the poor imitation when you can just listen to the original?<br />Instead: People, there’s this emerging genre called Adult Alternative (No, it’s not triple X music, you wished!). It has the same rock depth and strength to it, but has more maturity and sensibility; includes Coldplay, Evanescence, and Dashboard Confessional. Also, other artists worth listening to: Daughtry, Kelly Clarkson, Fall-out Boy and Gwen Stefani.<br /><br /><strong>Must NOT wear designer:</strong><br />Heatherette: Well, unless you desire looking like road kill…<br />Betsey Johnson: Well, unless you desire looking like a hooker over 65…<br />Anything else you cannot afford: Makes perfect sense.<br />Instead: Personal style is always the “in” style (as long as it doesn’t make you look like trash). Besides, once you’ve gotten rid of anything you can’t afford, that pretty much leaves you with no options.<br /><br /><strong>Must NOT read magazine:</strong><br />CANDY Magazine, and all other (I mean ALL) teen-oriented local magazines: As far as these magazines are concerned, reading doesn’t always have to be a learning experience. As a matter of fact, such activity may produce negative results, such as the individual internalizing tackiness, stupidity, and trivialities.<br />Instead: Vanity Fair, Vogue and National Geographic; the only magazines that will ever tell you what to do or how to defend when confronted with creatures that will eat you alive!<br /><br /><strong>Must NOT play sports:</strong><br />Golf: Everyone knows that when old, impotent men get together in their shorts and loafers, walking around grass while being tended by a water boy, umbrella holder, and a caddie shack, it’s not a sport.<br />Instead: Oh no, nothing. Bum it out.<br /><br /><strong>Must NOT read book:<br /></strong>Who reads books?<br /><br /><strong>Must NOT be-like celebrity:</strong><br />Paris Hilton: Well if it’s about the money and bling, and the unexplainable popularity then I understand why anyone would want to be her. But really, would being like her be worth enough to shed your morals and go on information overload frenzies to the public?<br />Kris Aquino: Well if it’s about the money and bling, and the unexplainable popularity then I understand why anyone would want to be her. But really, would being like her be worth enough to shed your morals and go on information overload frenzies to the public?<br />Instead: Angelina Jolie (For the simple reason that she’s her. Of course, no one could ever be like her. Like not ever (But please stop adopting.).<br />Jessica Alba: For standing up for all those beautiful people who look at gorgeousness as a curse! Bravo, Jessica, bravo!<br /><br /><strong>Must NOT do diet:</strong><br />High Protein Diet: It deprives the body of fiber.<br />Low Carbs Diet: It deprives the brain of fuel.<br />South Beach Diet: It deprives the person financially.<br />Instead: Starving.<br /><br /><strong>Must NOT imitate clothes-wise celebrity:</strong><br />Jessica Simpson and Mischa Barton: Hey, the 80s called; they want their clothes back.<br />Simon Cowell: Yeah, yeah so he’s witty and brutish and powerful in the music industry; but there seems to be no excuse for wearing shirts five sizes under what could be considered appropriate!<br />Instead: Me, duh!<br /><br /><strong>Must NOT eat chocolate:</strong><br />You have got to be kidding.<br />Instead: Eat all of it. Even expired ones.<br /><br /><strong>Must NOT have hairstyle:</strong><br />Anything that invites egg-laying creatures.<br />Anything that makes you look like you killed the hairstylist.<br />Anything that appears to have a life of its own.<br />The French Bob: Creepy male gremlins disguised as tiny female presidents are sporting it.<br />Instead: Go bald. Worked for Natalie Portman. But then, you're not Natalie Portman.Emperor Emilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16456624875541234399noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-794707671968500683.post-35243303988210364502007-06-10T02:16:00.000+08:002007-06-11T00:36:07.440+08:00Why I Moved...AGAIN!<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">For reasons of convenience, I am moving to this new blog address. Some of my previous entries from Multiply have been added here as well. Livejournal has proven to be a huge mess. </span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span> </div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;">That's all.</span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><strong>READ ON!</strong></span></div>Emperor Emilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16456624875541234399noreply@blogger.com0