tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-342086452024-03-24T02:11:14.087+08:00Stories&PhotographsAlyzzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06772615224041742011noreply@blogger.comBlogger169125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34208645.post-29836384874428191432011-12-17T23:15:00.002+08:002011-12-17T23:20:45.062+08:00Alyzza is moving!You will be redirected to my new blog in 5..4..3..2..1.<br /><br /><meta http-equiv="Refresh" content="5; url=http://bagonganyongbuhay.blogspot.com/">Alyzzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06772615224041742011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34208645.post-36022361527300639492011-12-05T21:42:00.006+08:002011-12-06T00:12:35.286+08:00EstrellaI held her tighter this time, asking her to come with me. I was surprised when she didn't move. She just stood still and gave me that longing look with her beautiful, brown eyes. I knew what she meant; she did not even need to speak. I have held her back for a long time now. She was always with me. At the back. Enjoying the show. <br /><br />I have watched her many times. She always seemed to enjoy the show. She would look up the stage, laugh, look at me, and then smile. Then I would pull her closer and lightly kiss her on the forehead. I always knew I make her happy. She would decline stage roles just so she could spend more time with me. Sometimes she would even cancel her show at the last minute to make other plans with me. I always knew she would choose me over anything else.<br /><br />But this time, it was different. She stared at me with those eyes longing for a fulfilled dream. She wanted to stay. Neither of us let go of each other. I was asking her to leave, but she was begging me to stay. Neither of us were going to change our minds. I sensed that, so I let her go. I turned back and started to walk away. I did not know why I could not stay, why I could not watch her do something she actually enjoys doing.<br /><br />I know she is out there tonight, shining brightly as she always does. I am sure that there will be fireworks all over the heavens, but I am surer that she will shine even brighter. Her luminescence will last. I have kept her in the dark for so long. I have kept her at the back when I know she could be at the front.<br /><br />But what could she be thinking? Was she sad that I was not there during her happy moment? Or was she happy because she realized that she does not need me or anyone to have a happy moment?Alyzzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06772615224041742011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34208645.post-14779585808188315262011-11-28T20:30:00.003+08:002011-11-28T20:47:38.054+08:00Thursday Nights<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >I have this thing about Thursday nights. It's like some kind of entity sucks the life out of me. I don't have Monday classes so that makes my schooldays Tuesdays until Fridays. But whenever I go home on a Thursday night, I just slump on my bed and wake up the next morning. And then I find out that I haven't touched my books or my notes. It's like my three days of school are equivalent to a week of school! So I spend my last day, Friday, obsessing on how badly I want to go home. Oh, did I mention I have only a load of 16 units? But everyday I'm working from 8:30 AM to 5:30 PM. In a lab. Or in a lecture room. Did I miss telling you my daily rehearsal after class?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >I want a break. I'm in luck because this coming Wednesday is a national holiday. Maybe I can do something worthwhile this Thursday.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >PS</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >It's not just me. My roommate is also a victim of unproductive Thursday nights.</span></div>Alyzzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06772615224041742011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34208645.post-64194826300903277552011-10-30T12:35:00.004+08:002011-11-06T22:42:39.729+08:00Bedtime Stories<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; " >I used to listen to my dad tell me stories before I go to sleep. I like to listen to stories before I sleep, but obviously, I can't ask my dad to tell me stories anymore. Now I listen to my own stories, some will make you cry and some will make you smile. I can't remember which ones I made up and which ones were real. Either serves its purpose well after all.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; " ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; " >1) I wanted to write something about how the previous semester ended. It took so long for me to find time to write, so long that such a post would no longer be relevant. So I wanted to write about how I spent my two-week vacation, but I'm afraid writing about it is no longer relevant either. Besides, I just spent it watching my favorite tv shows and some movies, eating a lot, and playing Left for Dead 2, Minesweeper, Dragon Nest, Solitaire, blah blah blah. I pretty much did nothing. There is, however, another thing I wanted to write. I have been thinking about it since last June, but I still haven't begun anything. Unlike my semester and my vacation stories which expire at some point if not told immediately, this thing I wanted to write does not expire. And this thing, this story, is not about me. It's about another girl. The thing is, I don't know how to end it. I have thought of an ending, of course. In fact, I have a lot of endings in mind. I just don't know which to use. I am so confused about it as I am so confused about how to sort my own stuff. Maybe that's the reason why I can't finish my story. Maybe I have to write and complete my own story before I write another's.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; " ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; " >2) There are always two sides to a story. And who in the world would not wish to hear both sides? Knowing both sides reveals the untold chapters. Well the raw story is usually impossible to extract, but if you get both sides, then you have the story in its rawest possible form. I've been an author and I've been a reader. Funny, really.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; " ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; " >3) There's this story I heard once. It brought back the guilt I kept buried for years. That feeling when you could have done something to make someone's life easier, happier, better, even if it costs your own happiness and peace. What's worse, I learned that I could have done a huge favor not only for one person, but for two. Some say they do it for love. I would gladly do it for love too. Love for both of them and love for myself, to save myself from this guilt.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; " ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; " >4) Bad romance. What's a juicier story than a bad romance? Such stories are exciting to read, but be careful not to be caught in one.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; " ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; " >5) When no one wants to see you, where do you go and what do you do? I'd want to be caught in my glass house by the beach where I can watch the waves rushing to the shore while I think of something to write. Whenever I'm not writing, I'd probably be in the porch sipping tea and reading a book.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; " ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; " >6) At some point in my life, I wanted to be be a writer. Actually, a part of me still wants to be one. I love writing as much as I love music. But I realized I could never get that one thing I want from music, so I've given up. Besides, music gives me too much pain. Writing doesn't. And you can still write while you cry, but you can't sing while you cry.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; " ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; " >7) Writer is too vague; I wanted to be a journalist. I thought I would be a more useful person if I become one. He agreed on this. Then I thought, "Won't I be just as useful if I practice medicine?" Now I'm confused. But then I won't be able to write what I want. Creative writing, that is.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; " ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; " ><s>8) What's a story without adventure and spontaneity? They say you have to put yourself in the feet of your character to experience his ways so you can write effectively. Or is it the other way around? Whichever it is, you would have to feel your character's experiences, right? I usually live in spontaneity and a spontaneous companion would be good to have. But sometimes, all I really need is someone to pull me back before I float away from reality and fly to battling dragons and saving the kingdom.</s></span></div>Alyzzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06772615224041742011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34208645.post-63906837931674046782011-10-02T23:17:00.008+08:002011-10-02T23:48:35.586+08:00Minesweeper<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Dear Blogspot,</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">I owe you blog posts. The term is ending which means huge waves of exams are coming. I'm fighting the urge to watch Gossip Girl, Glee, and the like. I'm fighting the urge to stay with you too long to write better stuff because I have to study. I have an exam on ballet tomorrow and I haven't even studied yet. I have a paper due on Friday. And more exams on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. Given all those work, I wonder how I can't get my hands off Minesweeper. I was addicted to this years ago. And it's back. The addiction is back and it's bad. Now I'm thinking of just hitting the sack since I'm just wasting my time on Minesweeper. I don't want to stay up late for a game when I should be studying. I don't know if it's really Minesweeper or it's just me unconsciously wanting to escape sleep. Because tomorrow when I wake up, everything will be different. <i>I will be better tomorrow.</i> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Do answers really lie in dreams, dear Blogspot? I have a question I've been asking myself for a long time now: Which act would be less selfish - stay and hate the situation forever or get out of the picture completely? It doesn't really matter now since it's done. I hope I could make the semester pass fast. And the pain too. Make them go away. Fast. Or at least put me in autopilot until everything's over. I'm so tired of feeling and making decisions and facing consequences.</span></div>Alyzzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06772615224041742011noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34208645.post-78822858273959454692011-09-24T22:45:00.007+08:002011-09-24T23:21:29.320+08:00Another Visit to the Farm<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span">We visited the farm again. This time I caught pretty butterflies.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMXezV03axs3T5QFH1O4DP2JVN8UzMGnR5AgRvoDYbikRhBiQHZ7PIjw-LzDGQotzaFp9-qBEs2NXsNfn8IgGb_1HXOkEelKsf1Fe_FMobOz8bl-vCusQQwkPoOfxCW0FDv81K/s1600/P9241533.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMXezV03axs3T5QFH1O4DP2JVN8UzMGnR5AgRvoDYbikRhBiQHZ7PIjw-LzDGQotzaFp9-qBEs2NXsNfn8IgGb_1HXOkEelKsf1Fe_FMobOz8bl-vCusQQwkPoOfxCW0FDv81K/s400/P9241533.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655944662897366674" style="text-align: center;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 346px; " /></span></a></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVRds5oRpVIfTWqy-haqkZfCcxh9MvUhpxUKyn_t8Fc0OqJvLajjhhwZbRH9_TInqQV-gUBJQ9SU1xp4uF-zoNRdkFr4sgpVBeBd0vj91zbc58HOhgSY1Zo3e1y4TsAsBmi3Ix/s1600/P9241528.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVRds5oRpVIfTWqy-haqkZfCcxh9MvUhpxUKyn_t8Fc0OqJvLajjhhwZbRH9_TInqQV-gUBJQ9SU1xp4uF-zoNRdkFr4sgpVBeBd0vj91zbc58HOhgSY1Zo3e1y4TsAsBmi3Ix/s400/P9241528.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655944657787577522" style="text-align: center;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 383px; " /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span">And I saw this weird arthropod.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEFA4t09IqpT5GX3aphpfUzq3JtwCE3YhmBSBmLdjSj2ROBVAe-nYzIc8OiZxPHX7fqOihEsDtgXzqygS6LlUt20aFqp2MJ0gfrO8yvCI0qPRVxMQUIb1SnU9b8TtXLZqRKmSV/s400/P9241536.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655944671558180914" style="text-align: center;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 344px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span">And this reptile.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYvNXcPTWliQCKUiOFNxob_hnkkWBU0RVOholZRD-vLWzRN1LxxIpOgH82m8GuKWijoTAPUsjrcVB18fZNvJqtVPap4QI2R-86qdfasBSHFwOkNfCKyyTxiqX3sjo2_gwFKrPz/s400/P9241525.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655944675169691746" style="text-align: center;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 334px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span">That's Dad beside his grapefruit tree.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy3hkDzDaZhqui0BDFZ9dedCQvyRVuL_jqWVKwF9Zx9jffkgf0CtIvMKvvg1bpzvcJz_Ifv0a_n-Xp-vdSgb77G9XQT0kk1zjuWEDiym5OM5O2LPso22x5uEpIOoI6T9txS-8c/s400/P9241538.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655944681415923298" style="text-align: center;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Mom and Dad watching the pigs which they will be selling soon.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji_Svw6IqJSmk-l5uR3dgSZY-l_A3l0tTw4Ks0xd2zWFoRKRbsqDx9Yxn-vflpVoQVu67uvYwjZijdFgWRLdVZo8mV6MzjaztrnCgOLEO6dW8X3Ltit3Ne_NBoPBFHYulkqH-m/s400/P9241540.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655945641593699986" style="text-align: center;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 339px; " /></span></div>Alyzzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06772615224041742011noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34208645.post-22971792690401796412011-09-03T14:22:00.003+08:002011-09-03T14:39:30.413+08:00Insect Collection: 29.33% Complete<span class="Apple-style-span">Heyy, who's turning 19 on Monday? It wouldn't hurt to post my wish list, right?</span><div><ol><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Diplurans</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Proturans</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Springtails</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Bristletails</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Mayflies</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Dragonflies, damselflies</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Stoneflies</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Cockroaches</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Termites</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Praying mantises</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Earwigs</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Grasshoppers, locusts, katydids, crickets</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Leaf insects and stick insects</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Webspinners</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Booklice</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Lice</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Bugs, cicads, mealy bugs, aphids</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Thrips</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Dobsonflies, alderflies</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Lacewings, antlions</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Beetles</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Twisted-wing flies</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Fleas</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">True flies</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Caddisflies</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Moths, butterflies</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span">Ants, bees, wasps</span></li></ol><div><span class="Apple-style-span">In short, various kinds of insects. I'd also appreciate dresses and movie tickets and books and shoes and <i>brazo de mercedes</i>, but I kinda really need those insects.</span></div></div>Alyzzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06772615224041742011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34208645.post-87085491296640005262011-09-03T12:12:00.005+08:002011-09-07T22:17:26.363+08:00Periplaneta americana gave my happy hormones back.<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">We were stuck there, inside the cafeteria, on that rainy Thursday afternoon. We were fighting the urge to go to the mall and have fun because we all have exams on the following today. It was time to come up of a plan. We have decided to go somewhere "away from the harsh realities of life". We didn't hit the nearest mall; we went a little farther, a little <i>away from the harsh realities of life</i>. I do not exactly have an idea why we were feeling so low that day. I supposed we were just low on happy hormones. Maybe it's the season? Maybe it's one of those things, as <a href="https://www.facebook.com/myorro?ref=ts">Miguel</a> calls it, <i>mid-sem crisis</i>.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">We ate at our favorite place, Tokyo Tokyo. We were supposed to go home after dinner, but we realized it wasn't even 7PM! We spent some of my extra tokens on videoke instead. Finally it was time for us to go back to the harsh realities of life and study for our exams tomorrow.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">The next day was the exact opposite of the day before it. The lab exam in entomology was so stressful yet fun. I couldn't say it was easy because I knew I could have done better if I had studied the other parts as thoroughly as I did on the other parts. What I enjoyed was the dissection. There was a list of body parts, both internal and external, and we have to pin them and show the specimen to our instructor. I looked at the list and realized that more than half of it requires a grasshopper specimen. All I have is a smelly cockroach. I couldn't pass the exam without a grasshopper. So I stood there thinking, "Where to get a grasshopper? Where to get a grasshopper?" Then I remembered I kept my jar of insects inside a cabinet in the laboratory! I rushed to the cabinet and was glad to find my jar still there. And you know what, I have this large grasshopper which accounted for 60% of my dissection grade.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">The remaining 40% was from my smelly cockroach. There were silent shrieks from students who were trying to get their specimens from a bottle full of cockroaches. Thank God someone helped me pin my specimen on the dissecting pan. Getting your specimen from the bottle then pinning it is the hardest part of the test. This was the first time I dissected a cockroach independently since we always perform dissections either in pairs or in threes. I will never ever ever forget the foul stench of my cockroach. I managed to pin its cercus, its proventriculus, its Malpighian tubules, and its alary muscles, yay!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">My exhausting day did not end there. I had to attend a meeting right after my lab exam. After much noting of minutes and all, I was happily on my way home.</span></div>Alyzzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06772615224041742011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34208645.post-5084043356074945262011-08-29T19:16:00.006+08:002011-09-07T22:15:59.579+08:00Insect Hunting<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Have I told you why I have been collecting insects? My entomology class requires all students to collect and preserve 150 different kinds of insects within the whole semester. As if finding 150 different kinds is not hard enough, we must also handle them with much care so as not to damage their body and their appendages. I personally think that lepidopterans and odonates are the hardest to preserve. Lepidopteran wings get damaged easily while odonates turn brittle when they die. I still do not have any from the two orders until now. Which reminds me, I only have around one month left to complete my collection. The last time I did my inventory was this afternoon. I only have 43 different kinds. Should I start panicking?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">I have been frolicking around the campus hunting insects. I am also on the search for mating insects. We are holding this exhibit on September at the Institute of Biology in the University of the Philippines, Diliman. It will run for a week and will showcase photographs of mating insects. Everyone is invited to view the exhibit.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix9XwBW4WAGrZplR1afFfY4uGF5L6e_gT5KWDsFpzogqqtcE6gqzdv4ALg5G9Wi0UGsEsYxE38_so1j6TLO7IOUA6-mUunIHEHyNy6g6gAO-0U3Qv7oHGsbh04ac_ewjhqA51i/s400/Insect+Hunting.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646264044299120034" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 320px; " /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">That dragonfly was the first insect and the first dragonfly I caught from the farm. I captured it using my bare hands. It was the first time I touched an insect voluntarily (except for mosquitoes I swat) and I felt weird and happy at the same time. It broke on the next morning, unfortunately. And those are my friends taking a break from helping me look for insects around the campus. The one in green is Rabbi and I must tell you, he has a good eye for mating insects. I should take him with me the next time I search for mating insects.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">The field trip in UPLB helped a lot in my insect collection. The bulk of the collection is actually from the trip, but it is not enough. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">I went to the farm today with Mom and Dad and my sister. I set up traps around the area while I go chasing butterflies. The traps I set were only yellow plates filled with water and detergent - a thing I learned from my instructor. Yellow objects attract insects. The detergent sucks the surface tension from the water, entrapping the insects. That's the best I can do. I don't have resources to set up light traps or Malaise traps.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">I caught 15 insects from my farm trip today. I'm hoping to catch more next time when we stay a little longer. Dad was on a hurry to meet someone so I didn't have enough time to exhaust the insects. Maybe I can ask some of my friends to come with me to the farm and help me catch insects in exchange for <i>brazo de mercedes</i>. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWn86lyivTGTlOUgj8verGcy6-RU-PxJNyJitWYRNp2xszSq3QhaQhSL9ep02666RNbfAmDAY23XzIeu1uKk4QMUlqTDyZIWveQF2LVLhN31QHtNmAr0N0xtSaWfR7sGX1gaSv/s400/P8291410.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646264033563175730" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 379px; " /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span">I caught this pretty dragonfly today. I kept it in a triangle envelope, but it still broke. Sad.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">If there's one thing I learned from my entomology class that I'll never forget, it's that Sir Soc is the best. Wait, I meant two things. The second one is that insects are more afraid of you than you are of them. I know it's common sense and at the same time it contradicts with biting, stinging, and killing insects, but you get the point. I used to stay away from insects. I am not actually afraid them; I just don't want them near me. It's different this time. Now I want them near me. I <i>need </i>them near me. Now I have to run after them and curse myself to the deepest pits of hell if I let a pretty butterfly go. My entomology class developed my aggressiveness for insects. I began seeing or noticing insects wherever I go. I actually squeal and point and hop frantically when I see an insect. And I get this really disappointed face if my situation does not allow me to run after it.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">I remember the first field work we had in the campus. One of my classmates asked our instructor why he took up entomology. He replied, "Well, it started with an elective." Another one of my classmates, aware of the fact that I hated entomology whispered to me, "Did you hear that? It started with an elective." I rolled my eyes and said, "Never." Who would have guessed I would learn to love entomology?</span></div>Alyzzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06772615224041742011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34208645.post-13939492274756905632011-08-27T12:19:00.010+08:002011-10-02T23:51:55.080+08:00Part 4: Bio 118 Field Trip<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">If I could then I would not blog about the fourth installment so I won't have to feel the pain of saying goodbye and that our field trip has officially ended. But these little things I realized happened on the ride back home, I must write them.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">We were given two choices this morning: (1) spend the whole morning sleeping until the bus arrives, and (2) go hiking in Mt. Makiling. Of course I picked the second option. It would be embarrassing to just sleep when all I did the other night was sing. And I know that if my sister Angel were there with me, she would probably scold me and tell me that I must not let the experience slip away and that I wasn't on the trip to sleep.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">We were supposed to go to Mudspring but since it was too far away, we went to Flat Rocks instead. It was a long way up. Mainly because I had no idea where we were going. The way up was actually easy because the path was wide and only a little rough. What was difficult was when we encountered this sign.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdS4_4JgReOFmT9pZZeeSUca4U7AF6aKyVhOk9IMB7m89V73jpxSe9fw24rTEUYIkB4y0Z80nrYVCOVCxb-5IJoJMXQ2LYChbTCSqdPyRblMY29j4OSvels97nEZ-0f_RjCgMV/s400/P8210074.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645399341363131938" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8cWcTm8kK9TR-YivJu-wk0DkyUI2rJyheaZGh4rzx5Da_i1WQBHRMZjAV1vqjeLQ67SI3y6Y5sCg8g6neuwCDtk7HlDwwxOJOCkO722W8GvmbAOVgl9wsGiHUwFCYljCvoQKn/s400/P8210071.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645399335855645730" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">Those are my classmates before the sign.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">We turned left as we were headed to Flat Rocks. Now we were not only climbing up the mountain, we were climbing <i>around </i>the mountain. What made the hike even harder was the slippery rocks and the muddy path. Every step we took made a squishing sound. <i>Squish, squish, squish.</i> And you had to be careful not to slip or you would fall down the cliff and God only knows what would happen next.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">We reached the site after some time. It looked a bit safer than the Hortorium because the rocks were large and flat. And the water was not so deep. I immediately soaked my aching feet in the water and ohmy, the water was freezing. There were many <i>large </i>and colorful butterflies and dragonflies flying above us. I could have spent the whole time chasing them but for some unknown reasons, my head was in so much pain. I turned my attention to the flies instead, which were relatively easier to catch. I managed to get two of them.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ_qk3tk7ZiFB4vRYiqm4Gq5kZbx52QVKbxfCuVJxeGKt5C5ot8YzXafTL7cO8qhdDDQvpaqVixJxx9jfHY5vGq6ksbUbEucZLuUrUapcvjHgQ7himOu6S_GT9BJsrPGlZHGat/s1600/P8210088.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ_qk3tk7ZiFB4vRYiqm4Gq5kZbx52QVKbxfCuVJxeGKt5C5ot8YzXafTL7cO8qhdDDQvpaqVixJxx9jfHY5vGq6ksbUbEucZLuUrUapcvjHgQ7himOu6S_GT9BJsrPGlZHGat/s400/P8210088.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645399362641003442" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 312px; " /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYB7X-8B-lc62frlzNdyxf59_Lz4HXEkVxMq4rBnGIsBKQvcMby96kOUuDhNUJs9v_8X8EBmMMe1H7XGHGil8Ajd_nlGM4d8td7jP4mhDX_Ovo_XSTdFCg6LBT_B3rmKWkmfe8/s1600/P8210077.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYB7X-8B-lc62frlzNdyxf59_Lz4HXEkVxMq4rBnGIsBKQvcMby96kOUuDhNUJs9v_8X8EBmMMe1H7XGHGil8Ajd_nlGM4d8td7jP4mhDX_Ovo_XSTdFCg6LBT_B3rmKWkmfe8/s1600/P8210077.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYB7X-8B-lc62frlzNdyxf59_Lz4HXEkVxMq4rBnGIsBKQvcMby96kOUuDhNUJs9v_8X8EBmMMe1H7XGHGil8Ajd_nlGM4d8td7jP4mhDX_Ovo_XSTdFCg6LBT_B3rmKWkmfe8/s400/P8210077.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645399352182690882" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF5H706Ps2RizGFd2p9AW9Bf1vuW0s7AOpFzBcDm8vh75o7nrDKOhJA-Ir7XBkMaeqLsWKJsDbKWC_aJHgU3CIi3HnY8Scrc4-gLlPp4tyu6YRnBLMsLdNpmm0b9g2Fzo2_xOf/s400/P8210087.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645399348169296082" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 322px; " /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">One of my classmates caught a dragonfly for me.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">The w<span class="Apple-style-span">ay back to the guesthouse was, obviously, easier. We showered and packed while waiting for the bus. I wasn't waiting for the bus, actually. I was waiting for Mom, Dad, and my sister Angel, who were coming to pick me up. They arrived, at long last, at the same time as the bus arrived. I wen</span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">t to search for my profess</span>or who excused himself to someone he was talking to to accompany me outside.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">"Is that your sister (in the car)?"</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">"Yes, sir. With my parents. Bye, sir."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">"Bye, Alyzza. See you on Wednesday."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span">I'll see you sir.</span></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">I replayed the whole trip in my mind on the ride home. I remembered how much I hated going to that trip and having to miss the annual party. You know what, I'm glad I picked the field trip over the party. I would actually give anything to relive the experience one more time. Or maybe just spend one more night in Elbi. I also thought of starting to work seriously on my insect collection now. I only have two months left and I still have around 120 to catch. I might have chosen who my thesis adviser will be. If things go well, I might miss that annual party again. When that time comes, I know it will be worth it.</span></div>Alyzzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06772615224041742011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34208645.post-49054537000739948662011-08-21T22:34:00.005+08:002011-08-27T12:16:39.912+08:00Part 3: Bio 118 Field Trip<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >We went straight to UPLB Hortorium after breakfast. Next to IRRI, the Hortorium was one of my favorite places. My reflexes were tested as I tried to catch aquatic insects. Water striders are fast. There are 15 of us, but we only have one aquatic net. So yes, we had to use our trusty hands. It was fun trying not to get wet as you slip on rocks and catch large, colorful lepidopterans and odonates. We were all so overwhelmed by the large number of insects. We were running and squealing and jumping and laughing. It was heaven.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; " ><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiFJRiQ42Ts6cpYEtaRtqG-1Dn9kqGpa5SIhJJlir7Fzr9HIcgJ02wktwkwMtW911e9dIy8o5_xYGUasJ519nO-5TYWRvkOYbt1NYszgiJAom9VSIgmXS0TZKW-73TX93kKD61/s400/P8200069.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645381653126364354" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; " >We had to cross those slippery rocks to find insects. Nobody could leave the Hortorium without getting wet.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; " >
<br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; " ><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij0gSeH0sRTypTp5cTjk4ocwbn4ZlAR1swd4MJJim5dcg455E6UJyj70W00bWsqQ16j1YWQlBb_5-ovafD_TWRHOlvq1Ncqc02qNRlQM5F7tYrABcxBayLtbmeg54d3sUy5mmz/s400/P8200070.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645381657109880642" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >That's our professor giving us instructions on how to use our equipment to catch aquatic insects. But as I have mentioned earlier, most of us just used our fast reflexes to grab water striders.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Again, we grabbed lunch and went back to the house to get some rest. What we thought was a little rest turned out to be a 2-hour sleep. It was too late for us to go the Mudspring since it was, I think, 4-5 kilometers away from the house. And we had to walk to get there. Our professor was too sweet - he didn't wake us because he thought we were too tired, sleeping oh-so soundly. Oh yeah, mine was not a 2-hour sleep. I slept for four hours! I was surprised to see nobody inside and outside our bedroom. My roommates returned after some time. Turned out they were hunting insects in the streets.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >We spent the night a little differently this time - outside the guesthouse. I was hesitant to go at first (because it's 9:30PM and I think it's late), but I thought hey, tonight's our last night. I have to make the most out of this trip. Our professor took us, his Bio 118 students and his thesis <i>advisees</i>, to LB Square where we reunited with the other professor and his thesis advisees. I forgot to tell you - that morning in IRRI, our professor's thesis advisees came together with another professor from Diliman and his own advisees. We sang in the videoke until the wee hours of the morning. I do not have photos from that night because I purposely left my camera for safety reasons.</span></div>Alyzzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06772615224041742011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34208645.post-39030975374729921632011-08-21T21:49:00.005+08:002011-08-27T11:12:34.390+08:00Part 2: Bio 118 Field Trip<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">We had to wake up early the next morning for our first stop, the <a href="http://irri.org/">International Rice Research Institute (IRRI)</a>. Click the link if you want to know more about it, but it's basically a nonprofit organization dedicated to rice research (developing new rice varieties and improving rice management techniques). The place was so nice and green and the people were so friendly and approachable. They even mentioned that they offer free use of their laboratories and facilities to students whose theses are related to rice research. I became more hesitant to go to med school because of that. I think it would be great to work there. We spent the whole morning learning more about the IRRI.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">
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<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIBj4x1WGmXJibNpslIKfMqE8XDfL7y8ObJpKwQJervgZ-8skz-qCM4qyZiLdryW4RQAC5r5wbL-AwQVMgq8rcN5Vd-Ugbhxp-NQWe7aK2TuPMZgXtaAi8clBmsN2a2cMaqwVq/s1600/P8191341.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIBj4x1WGmXJibNpslIKfMqE8XDfL7y8ObJpKwQJervgZ-8skz-qCM4qyZiLdryW4RQAC5r5wbL-AwQVMgq8rcN5Vd-Ugbhxp-NQWe7aK2TuPMZgXtaAi8clBmsN2a2cMaqwVq/s400/P8191341.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643319943784419522" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a>
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKsnzv74Ei8fLWlVT6zO1PZ08AKQeXFV6jZFaQfmB4iIuPN3nLDgVfqPLiSxHkZsmbz9GhF-CmlAF9nwmHuUDnePa3k3bdn0KsgVuiUhDc5aHZ4Y3fGpW6zK8neCaRzudg-DmN/s1600/P8190005.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKsnzv74Ei8fLWlVT6zO1PZ08AKQeXFV6jZFaQfmB4iIuPN3nLDgVfqPLiSxHkZsmbz9GhF-CmlAF9nwmHuUDnePa3k3bdn0KsgVuiUhDc5aHZ4Y3fGpW6zK8neCaRzudg-DmN/s400/P8190005.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643319937686139858" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">
<br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghLgLSHXib8ZAzQwzp0fuKRCvf1ff4LPE7qRdlWw306c8gYoNK3d_PPMOkM6Iiqt3-ibCYamvyI6l8sSDFhZAqOsdpA81pWdZ7t8IgFmHhq3PZXnpP3hdpXrKyLLgWgpijDX-o/s400/P8191343.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643319946953767154" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_xhA3IKyyo3USzHsOpEQfJZTlh0liCgV3ZGFznceZjR8A1k8-3tDvGv8MLO06G-_0CvafFxYvWHgqqR34ApSTr5_SwgMI_-AKup-jn15FCMFjW8WFA72nsWFs58dWV6YhTnMC/s400/P8191375.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643319953711959378" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 298px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Grain-sorting.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj45jA692gU5lybdE6MGxE8oleDKeOt1SzCIiI_Ib3WE749XSM1sl0m-8HihDYS3q7Qz9unDsX_rqiIFbWAOmt1VNOIAE4tiYeWQTlkzJPAanUy4rz_kH2UIrZH5QhDMrE2PEnx/s1600/P8191367.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj45jA692gU5lybdE6MGxE8oleDKeOt1SzCIiI_Ib3WE749XSM1sl0m-8HihDYS3q7Qz9unDsX_rqiIFbWAOmt1VNOIAE4tiYeWQTlkzJPAanUy4rz_kH2UIrZH5QhDMrE2PEnx/s400/P8191367.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643323624645874690" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 268px; height: 400px; " /></a><span class="Apple-style-span">We went to this room which was kept at around 3</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); ">°C. This is where they kept dormant seeds.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">
<br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6acf-Zxnj2s34w5_GW4rIgSATSWL9774_GXZN4zgAA2JuNHQvu_tREQMSVHJyQ48JgExP_hn2BDQUKzd3E39Es9zRMDUE7mc8Py4FUVnXAvXB_3EKY4Cgw7GgTWyvviYxIqNc/s1600/P8191380.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6acf-Zxnj2s34w5_GW4rIgSATSWL9774_GXZN4zgAA2JuNHQvu_tREQMSVHJyQ48JgExP_hn2BDQUKzd3E39Es9zRMDUE7mc8Py4FUVnXAvXB_3EKY4Cgw7GgTWyvviYxIqNc/s400/P8191380.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643319979302983538" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></a></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">The next room was better. It was actually a vault which houses rice samples from different countries. And the temperature, -19</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); ">°C.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWrSFK08wev4K5pys58YeFt9sN7OaWZryS3JPOo_KyqMU3gMk5dFtYRdfLjxQQaq_RqAhalfJQI6iagIxqhzmIqSKbko35JssvwdMfX-b1LliiBJO-AKfUvvQsT4RZMSlz672k/s400/P8191372.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643323630907231218" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span">This is, yes, the map of the world. It shows the countries which are members of the IRRI. The map is made of different rice varieties.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">We grabbed lunch after that and went back to the house to get rest.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">The second half of the day was spent looking at various collections of insects in the University. We went to the UPLB Museum of Natural History and to the Institute of Biological Sciences.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvvDd4yC8H28J1TLuHygfJ2k6mY5IW-Lg-ZhQxxm57Up4JMdfHZ5zw_-XoesGR7yRT2yqLDGxOluL3649IHDbevG46habXBM0lhJmz42Ak48sIe25qKfyCkWUR5RiBh34P-4Y-/s400/P8190016.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643323637177969666" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 398px; " /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">This is just one of the many collections from the museum.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">We mingled with the UPLB students afterwards. Well, not actually mingle. It was 5:30PM when we finished looking at collections and the students were everywhere. It was so different in Diliman. For a moment I thought of what could have been if I had studied in Elbi. Maybe it was more laid-back, peaceful. I would be very different from what I am now. Maybe it would be...I don't know. Better? I met another high school classmate, btw. I asked him to lend me a blanket because I was shivering the other night. There were no blankets in the guesthouse.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Work did not end there. We had to set up a light trap back home to catch insects. BTW, the course requirement is to collect and preserve 150 different insects for the whole semester.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">We had ice cream party after a whole day of work! Thanks to Dan who was celebrating his birthday on the same day. We had a lot of fun eating ice cream while playing "Killer", a game suitable for several players and is so much better if the players were noisy. And because our professor had to take care of us, he joined the game until we were too tired to figure out who the killers were. Our professor is the best.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Earlier I thought, "I can't believe we have to stay for two more nights." But you know what, I was beginning to enjoy the trip.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">PS</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">I'm still tired from the trip so I'm thinking I'd stop now. Besides, I have deadlines to meet and exams to study for. And I have a Monday class, gah. I'll post the last installments next week, mkay?</span></div>Alyzzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06772615224041742011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34208645.post-55712194343976425862011-08-21T21:04:00.011+08:002011-08-27T11:12:04.732+08:00Part 1: Bio 118 Field Trip<div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span">Bio 118 is our code for entomology class. It is an animal taxonomy elective required to be taken during our undergraduate years. I never planned to take this course since I was never into insects. What I had in mind was to take Invertebrate Zoology instead as an animal taxonomy elective. I know Invertebrate Zoology includes helminthology, but it also includes cnidarians, mollusks, and echinoderms. It only means one thing – a field trip to the beach.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">The first time we met our professor, I thought he was cool. That was until he started giving us pop quizzes, both in lecture and in laboratory. That’s four and a half hours with him on Tuesdays and Thursdays. In addition to that, I hate insects. But on that particular morning he saw us studying at the lobby, he stopped giving us quizzes. That was cool until I remembered that I had to miss our annual ritual because of a three-night long field work at the University of the Philippines, Los Ba</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px; ">ños. He informed us about this as early as the first day we met, so I had ample time to get over it and accept my misfortune.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">I learned to accept my misfortune in those two months. That was until the day of our departure. Afternoon classes were suspended on that day and we were supposed to leave the university at 6PM. That means I have time to say goodbye to my friends who will be present at the ritual. And being good friends as they are, they began convincing me to attend the ritual and go to the work site on the next day instead. I was so close to agreeing with them, but I knew better. I...I...ohmy, I can't say it! IMISSEDTHEPARTY. There.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; "></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; "></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span">We stopped by Shell in SLEX to grab dinner. I told my classmates that if I were to climb over the wall of the gasoline station, I'd be home in 5 minutes. I wanted to go home so bad since it was a 3-day long weekend. That was how much I hated going to the field work. I never called it field trip since I didn't consider it a trip. It's work. Work, work, work. Anyway, my classmates and I did this funny thing. There was this photo booth at KFC which flashes the customers' photos on a large screen, we tried that. We had a couple of photos which were sent to my classmate's email address. I'd be happy to upload proof of our vanity, but my classmate has not uploaded it yet.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span">We arrived at the guesthouse at around 9PM. What irked me even more was that we were staying at the College of Forestry which was really, really, really far away from stores and people. I tell you, they didn't call it College of Forestry for nothing. We had to walk a long way to get to the jeep route and we had to wait a long time before a jeep comes which delay me to see my high school friends. Since our professor is a cool guy (I mean it this time), we convinced him to take us to the lower campus so we could buy stuff. Oh yeah, I met some of my high school classmates down there. They were, like me, members of the school <i>rondalla</i>. I also met Chester that night, another high school classmate. He took me to his dormitory because I was going to borrow a pair of slippers. We had to run across the wet grass to meet the rest of the class who were waiting for me.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span">We spent the rest of the night playing games and laughing. That was the first time I heard our professor laugh that hard and I thought hey, he really seems to be a cool guy. He stayed up late with us because his duty was to take good care of his students. Oh yeah, one of my classmates was celebrating his birthday on the next day. We sang a nice "Happy Birthday" for him at exactly 12 midnight.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiNh-Ua6rgjxGuG7TCld7K6vIjRLt7hYRPIKZA-KTxs0bTShS7BryhpYqvc-KkCyDinRC7PFKZV1fYwISuKMbH4FtI3TZfvLnCIhfEc0Wt5nnOslz5OZn3GU6Md1gsAUVvBdAJ/s400/P8181336.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643307988455790706" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span">Those are my roommates (except for the guy in yellow) celebrating the safety of our arrival.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrKwWjT_l2Xs1AJJ032AqiBGomZF2g4jrs7JGIA-iex_r7Es2pKfTwsX_0NPvaFgrnxFeHPr00WpIwOrchfAwcc8XiuE4qNn6P2XaIV3PN7Qg-MnKI88Yhpk267t4n4PnDPnKp/s400/P8181338.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643307995734217522" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 326px; " /></span></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span">And those are my classmates waiting for Dan's (the guy wearing jersey) </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span">birthday. </span>And our professor, the one wearing a coral pink shirt.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span">I know. I should really get a tripod.</span></p><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div></div>Alyzzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06772615224041742011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34208645.post-88238223879375402942011-08-15T20:51:00.006+08:002011-08-15T21:17:16.460+08:00Shuffled<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; font-size: small; ">"He forgot her birthday."</span></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >"Really? I feel so sorry for her."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >"I know! That guy, he's so stupid. He can't even talk about anything sensible!"</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >"Oh, yeah? Replace him then. Get her back."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >He laughed. "You want me to replace him? Now you're not making sense, love. You sound just like him!"</span></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><i>I should have known from the very start. We weren't on the same side.</i></span></div>Alyzzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06772615224041742011noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34208645.post-63848058180206727302011-08-15T13:04:00.002+08:002011-08-15T14:14:42.439+08:00Goodbyes<span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span"><i>"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 10px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); ">Saying goodbye is always hard. But having that feeling that we are no longer part of each other’s universe, made it a</span></i></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 10px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "> lot easier."</span></i></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 10px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); " >
<br /></span></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 10px;" >A friend of mine wrote this, but since I did not ask her permission to quote her, I will preserve her anonymity.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 10px;" >
<br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 10px;" >It was over - dressing up, smiling at cameras, drinking. That memory you keep on trying to bury deep, it's safe beneath the earth now. No one can dig it <i>again </i>and relive that feeling you very much wanted to forget. You can live in the present time now.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 10px;" >
<br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 10px;" >It was nice to know that I wasn't the only one waiting for this end, that I wasn't the only one thrilled to break free and create this little circle where only I and a few people I trust belong. It was even nicer to know that I already have that circle.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 10px;" >
<br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><i>"Someday I am going to marry you and we will forget the names of those people who scarred us. We'll create our own universe where they no longer exist. Among all people I would have to trust you and you would have to trust me. We'll travel and take pictures and fight along the way. But love, we won't listen to what they say."</i></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 10px;" >
<br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 10px;" >
<br /></span></span></div>Alyzzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06772615224041742011noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34208645.post-27628249908329880122011-08-08T05:51:00.010+08:002011-08-15T21:31:00.008+08:00Complete!<div style="text-align: justify;">This is a conversation my dad and I had yesterday, while grocery shopping with Mom.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Me: Bibili ako ng tripod.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Dad: Kumpletuhin mo na lang grades mo. Ibibili kita ng tripod. </span></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">You see I managed to get a scholarship program which reimburses my tuition and requires my grades after each term before they could finally give the money back. I should say I'm lucky enough to be a scholar until now as BS Biology is killing me gently. But I love how it kills me - <i>Sophophora melanogaster</i>, pretty hexagons in organic chemistry, memorizing amino acids. Anyway, an unfortunate event happened to me last summer. My Physics lab instructor gave me an INC, an abbreviation for 'incomplete'. It means that I have a passing grade but I failed to submit a requirement, well, my teammates and I failed to submit a requirement. There's nothing to worry about now because...</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE-kvzkTa6gXgMQJIWID7Basdb92uJc7xVmiADTNY-AX7x6iXjlX23x44ZWQaME2nbUjPfx44Zt8JErb56VgsfwSeZ50klxHAV-k21EqZ27Uc07HCnhs5mNdsSI3r6GKECKsci/s400/Fullscreen+capture+882011+64707+AM.bmp.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5638250071766674018" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 15px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); ">
<br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">I remember one of the conversations I had with a friend a week ago. I told him that the only grades I have not had yet are 1.25, DRP, 4.00, and 5.00. Here's that missing 1.25. I'm not asking for the other grades, though.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">And here's a certificate I received 5 months ago. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Vo51_F0tvWzy4pdWo0tfcG9SoiSskZVW22coYqnewXPnoqDtrHJxDCBYmbyHQi5eCjTXAO5q75bX3T9plPLNFTsEdEGbFBlLB0XlDD53dAWBIpIpGhsp3PUCWKaSMVCN9Sz8/s320/P8081292.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5638245496056152802" style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 246px; " /></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Considering how I'm faring in biology, I don't think I'll ever walk up that stage again and receive another one like this. The grades I get are just enough to keep my scholarship. Just last term I received my first, and hopefully only, 3.00. Being an<i> iskolar ng bayan</i> is worth the pain anyway.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Wait. Does this mean I get the tripod now?</span></div>Alyzzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06772615224041742011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34208645.post-65891980696419747502011-07-31T18:59:00.008+08:002011-08-15T13:02:36.412+08:00Circle of Trust<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">I watched Killers with my sister last night. I am not going to blab about how hot and gorgeous Ashton Kutcher is - my Facebook and Twitter accounts are doing that for me. This is what the movie is about - people (read: their friends) are going to kill Jen's (Heigl) husband (Kutcher), who by the way is an ex-assassin, to get that $20,000,000 bounty on his head. All those hours running from their friends [who were trying to kill them] made me realize something: Your family is the only people you can trust completely. I mean, even their closest friends are hunting them! <i>Note: I don't think the movie is really about this and I have no idea how I have come to think this way. </i>I won't spoil the movie in case you're planning to watch it.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">It made me realize that one must be careful who he tells things to. People will kill you if they see $20,000,000 on your head. Those closest to you, they know when you are on your most vulnerable situation. And those people who care only about their happiness, they will never hesitate to hurt you if such an act will be of advantage to them. This doesn't mean you have to shut yourself from people outside your family. You just have to choose what and what not to tell them.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">I remember my dad telling me something he told one of my sisters way back when I still believed in Santa Claus. He told my sister that he doesn't have a best friend and that best friends are for children. Well he said he does have a best friend, best friends actually - my sisters, my mom. But there's one lesson he taught my sister, and me: Never throw away friends because you might need them someday. He was probably referring to business purposes. You know what, that has got to be the hardest lesson he taught me. Maybe because he forgot to mention one important detail: Keep them but <s>reduce your care meter</s> don't allow them to hurt you again.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Families - you don't even have to tell them what and what not to tell. They won't give you the cold shoulder out of the blue. Sure they will misinterpret you and judge you like any other person but you know that they will never ever leave. They allow you to make mistakes; they give you infinitely many last chances. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Speaking of family, I got to spend some time with my sisters today, yay! I missed having someone to squeal with while watching Glee. My sisters and I are hardcore FinChel fans. Too bad Inna left this afternoon and Ate Ange has to go tonight although we're planning to delay her with a bag of <i>rambutan</i>. I'm planning to have a big stock of movies to watch the next time we're all home. With popcorn. And more Cheetos next time.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Meanwhile, here's a tribute to my family who feeds me and pays for my expenses even if I still haven't settled my INC last summer. <i>Sana mabigay na 'yung grade ko.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><i>
<br /></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ_BbQJMFphFc1wLMqNL59xB-f2XNXGKb7FCWQhabuQWetcH15Cbw5t5rAFePouGdDMQfTcsX3fIa9Xa3oKU3PnKMSi8Cf-rVomZjeq98FEj_pdBPoRsJSBPmP_uTi0MkPLUa_/s320/My+Documents.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635485655808245970" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 229px; height: 320px; " /></span></div>Alyzzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06772615224041742011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34208645.post-68865637388471791262011-07-23T13:55:00.009+08:002011-08-27T13:25:16.151+08:00Frozen Yogurt and 3D Glasses<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >I have decided to blog about things that happen everyday. I got tired of waiting for something grand to happen and then blogging about it. I mean, why not make every day grand and blog about it? I know that it's highly impossible but I guess blogging on weekends will do no harm to tight schedules. Instead of refreshing Facebook and Twitter over and over after my weekly movie, why not blog? So here.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >I am a big fan of Harry Potter but I am not here to talk about its pure awesomeness. My Tumblr says it all anyway. I mean, who doesn't know about the boy who lived and the boy who loved?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >I watched the movie twice; the first one was on its premiere night at SM North Edsa with Taters popcorn and rootbeer. Taters popcorn is the best. And ohmigodwatchingitonitspremierenightwithallthefansissobeautiful. The second time was at Alabang Town Center with my mom, my dad, and my two other sisters. My third sister, well, she's rarely home. I hoped she was there with us to witness the magnificent story come to an end. And to enjoy a bowl of frozen yogurt which Ate Tek paid for.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >
<br /></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqXMqujABAKPRdnWj9v4l8IS-j4AYtDIxN0IatWxS9eb6LdnHSoa8BcALuhBO1MMVImTflewP_WorUKA0covyqih2CCvObevZS8cT95SlWlFVswHDbHIwW1n3LBgal5ytXRSAX/s1600/P7171256.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 277px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqXMqujABAKPRdnWj9v4l8IS-j4AYtDIxN0IatWxS9eb6LdnHSoa8BcALuhBO1MMVImTflewP_WorUKA0covyqih2CCvObevZS8cT95SlWlFVswHDbHIwW1n3LBgal5ytXRSAX/s320/P7171256.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632428941887041874" /></span></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Doesn't Ate Tek look so blissful?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >
<br /></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwn10UsmGm5CZi8g0wPRISavpx4I5jQ1Tj7w-kwxTszww8HpFkAjDveIN0_O35XJNEsYB0e8-a8wK8LV0cLYUr_7Qkv6oGzOWW2egOZgqso5O7pT5SHk1U1XQxHIGOoADGWlWy/s1600/P7171255.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 229px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwn10UsmGm5CZi8g0wPRISavpx4I5jQ1Tj7w-kwxTszww8HpFkAjDveIN0_O35XJNEsYB0e8-a8wK8LV0cLYUr_7Qkv6oGzOWW2egOZgqso5O7pT5SHk1U1XQxHIGOoADGWlWy/s320/P7171255.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632428936278399970" /></span></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >That's my bowl of yogurt. I can't remember what's it's called but it has cookies and almonds and white chocolates and so much <i>yumminess</i>. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Too bad I don't have a picture of my dad wearing 3D glasses, he looked cute and weird at the same time. Haha.</span></div>Alyzzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06772615224041742011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34208645.post-59791788894566348482011-07-23T10:24:00.011+08:002011-08-27T13:25:47.774+08:00Marie Had A Little Lamb<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Remember I promised to show you turkey and sheep photos? Well there's bad news and there's good news. The bad news is no turkey egg hatched. I really don't know what happened but Dad said that he saw one of the hens pecking the eggs and gobbling its contents. Anyway, the good news is we now have a lamb, yay! We were just so surprised one day that one of the ewes gave birth to a cute lamb. You remember those books you used to read when you were little? Those with pictures of little white lambs? Well, I have to say that you weren't fooled. You see, when we were little, we were made to believe about a lot of things that don't happen in the real world. But the cute, little, white lambs were real, I tell you. This is coming from one who has not seen a lamb before.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD4T1V7FWWae8dX5jnXdE481eU1MMNan1GfEsPyYiaLbNuGou-5rOowwaHwl3tk6iucvlqcEX1xnN_5Z2VBNoaHTLvK-aEDrt4yDh3CoBkwGIMN7-b4XHR7ZWIGI3CpwzfNYqu/s1600/Nets+and+Lambs.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD4T1V7FWWae8dX5jnXdE481eU1MMNan1GfEsPyYiaLbNuGou-5rOowwaHwl3tk6iucvlqcEX1xnN_5Z2VBNoaHTLvK-aEDrt4yDh3CoBkwGIMN7-b4XHR7ZWIGI3CpwzfNYqu/s320/Nets+and+Lambs.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632409803612780466" style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 229px; height: 320px; " /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Isn't Cottonball adorable? I named the lamb.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><img style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 229px; height: 320px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpg3WfGTrf7iBGcpHtBz6oGCf6Bteplc1__Cc8pJnvzhDHQJYsV7QEypzdh7Tqtukg2gg0Q2zAVAaPdPEdIiU0wlZ4ykfButaVH053HmQyb488twx0eIeTvEnpKqT2BKUMvQMY/s320/Summer+and+Family.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632409812455499346" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; white-space: pre; "><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Up there is the first turkey egg we saw and yeah, we've grown a mutated carrot.</span></div>Alyzzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06772615224041742011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34208645.post-65348451462468840102011-06-26T00:19:00.013+08:002011-06-26T23:31:54.875+08:00Catch A Falling Star<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small; "><i>It was told that stars were actually maidens. And that when one sees a shooting star, he must hurry to find it for that star is the same woman you shall love and who shall love you back. Nobody knows where they came from. Some folks believe that maidens are rewards to those young men who are patient and hardworking. Some believes that the gods punish the maidens who have sinned by hanging them in the sky. Some believes that the man and his star shall grow old together. The man shall wither and the star shall turn into stardust. The rest of the village, well, they believe that it was just a story the elders made up to make the boys work harder.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">It was different for this particular young man who works for the builders. He simply believes that stars are maidens. He has actually chosen a star from the hundreds he sees each night. He has always been fascinated with that little star at the far side, away from the other brighter stars. He has always wanted that star, ever since he was a little boy. He would view that star from his bedroom window and just watch it shine. He would watch it while waiting for the sandman to come. He would watch it until it was time to say good night. It has always been the same scenario every night, ever since he was a little boy. Ever since his best friend left the village.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">One fortunate night he asked the star, "Why will you not fall for me?" He was sitting by a river on top of a mountain. The young man was helping the builders build a bridge across the river and they have been working since morning. They stopped to rest only when the stars started appearing. "You know I have had my eyes fixed upon you. Never did I turn my gaze away from you even as I see a shooting star at the corner of my eye. Years I have waited and I am willing to wait more," he continued.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">To his surprise, the star replied. "Please accept my sincerest apologies for I am to remain bound in the heavens until I have learned to forgive and the other to apologize. Only then when I have forgiven and my heart has been purified can I be one of those shooting stars you usually ignore."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">"Then why not forgive now? So I could catch you and ask you to marry me."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">"Alas, my forgiveness has not been asked for yet. Ask and it shall be given, then seal it with a promise that such a tragedy will never happen again. I can not love with an impure heart, you see. If favorable events happen and I fall, will you catch me?"</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">"I will even ask you to marry me."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">"What then shall I call my lovely <span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; ">fiancé?"</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; "><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; ">"Gabriel."</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; "><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; ">"Angelic. Call me Ceres."</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; "><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; ">"You're celestial."</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; "><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; ">Years passed and the young man has become a skilled builder. The star has still not fallen but the builder has not lost hope. On top of that same mountain where he and his star first talked, he decided to build a tower. One that is tall enough to reach his star. Every night he sleeps on top of his unfinished tower and resumes his work early in the morning. More years passed and his tower grew taller and taller. The builder thought of speaking to his star one night so he asked, "Who is that person you </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; ">have to forgive?"</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; "><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; ">"I honestly do not know who that person is," the star replied, "It happened a very long time ago. All I can remember is that I got so furious, so furious that I even pushed people away."</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; "><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; ">"Hundreds, or even thousands ask for forgiveness each day. How will you know who the right one is? Will you just magically fall once the word has been spoken?"</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; "><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px;">"Magically," the star giggled, "Yes, I shall magically fall into your arms and we shall get married."</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px;">Even more years passed and still his star has not touched the earth. But this did not stop the builder from continuing to work on his tower. He worked even harder this time; he barely stops to rest. He worked day and night until he fell ill.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px;">"Gabriel!" The star gasped.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px;">"Are you about to fall?" The builder asked.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px;">"I regret to say I am not. But your body is aging! You must rest. You are not as strong as you were years ago."</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px;">"Then I would never reach you. True enough I am beginning to feel weak. And truer still, I would never ever, ever reach you. I probably did not work enough. Stars <i>are </i>rewards to those who are patient and hardworking. I feel so weak that it seems impossible for me to even watch the sun rise later." </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; ">He closed his eyes then continued, "Forgive me, Ceres."</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; "><span class="Apple-style-span">"Gabriel, I'm--"</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; "><span class="Apple-style-span">There was a thump.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; "><span class="Apple-style-span">"Here," the star whispered.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; "><span class="Apple-style-span">"So it was me all along?" The builder asked smiling, his eyes still closed.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; "><span class="Apple-style-span">"I would have to say yes. I fell on your right arm; I guess you caught me."</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; "><span class="Apple-style-span">"I'm sorry I'm too weak to go down on my knees right now and ask you to marry me. Maybe when the sun is up? Then we shall get married in the afternoon. I want to show you the village. The village is friendly. You must meet my mother. She will like you. And my father too. You would also love to see the bridges and the towers I have built. All those helped me acquire the skills I needed to build our tower. Do you like animals? I have a dog at home I call 'Vanilla'. I am certain that you will like her."</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; "><span class="Apple-style-span">The star cried.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; "><span class="Apple-style-span">"Are you crying?" The builder asked. "I am about to open my eyes. Would you allow your tears to cover your beauty? Let me see how beautiful my bride is."</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; "><span class="Apple-style-span">The star wiped her face and smiled as the builder opened his eyes. He smiled and said, "Lie with me." The fallen star obeyed and rested her head on the builder's chest.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; "><span class="Apple-style-span">"The sun is about to rise, look," the star pointed to the sun.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; "><span class="Apple-style-span">"I thought I'd never live to watch the sunrise with you. Do you like our tower? I am not yet finished building it but your presence seems to complete it. I shall finish it later, after we get married. But I have to rest first," he closed his eyes, "Would you be willing to help?"</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 15px; "><span class="Apple-style-span">The star smiled and nodded as she watched her feet and her legs turn into stardust. Soon there were only stardust and the builder on top of the unfinished tower.</span></span></div>Alyzzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06772615224041742011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34208645.post-78714468803897454132011-06-25T22:35:00.007+08:002011-06-26T00:08:31.322+08:00Rainy Days and Girlfriends<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small; ">As you would have guessed, our classes, like yours, were suspended last Friday. And I regret that I didn't make the most out of that Thursday night with friends.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">I learned of the suspension around 5:30 AM and I was planning to get ready to go home at that instant since I was also informed that my after-class meeting was postponed. I can't remember why I decided to sleep a little bit more. The next thing I knew I was making oatmeal for lunch. My dad advised me to stay in QC so I won't be traveling while a typhoon is on loose. What happened next was the most unfortunate thing, I didn't have anything to do. I still haven't got hold of the book and the lectures I need to read because they are somewhere out there and I can't brave the storm outside. My roommate happily lent me her copy of "<a href="http://books.google.com/books/about/How_to_Be_Bad.html?id=f_nM0QcblyAC">How to be Bad</a>" which I finished on that same day. It was not that good a read but who cares? I'm comfortably reading a book on a cold, rainy day while enjoying a bowl of mushroom soup my housemate and I made. Don't get too excited about the soup - it's one where you pour the contents on water and boil. Yes, instant mushroom soup.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">We cooked dinner around 10 PM. I know, that was late and I was extremely hungry. I haven't eaten a decent meal since morning. We rummaged our ex-housemate's goods and yes, we found enough to feed all eight of us. We were seated on the floor, in a circle, and were enjoying that little feast we made. I don't know what we resemble the most, friends on camping, girls on a sleepover, or evacuees having their fill of food ration. One thing is for sure, the cold wind from Falcon was nothing compared to the warmth inside our house.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">We made hot chocolate right after dinner which was followed by a series of stories from creepy stalkers to a random guy's weird habits. I fell asleep around 5:00 AM and woke five hours after. My housemates were already up and packing their stuff. I had to do the same. We had lunch at KFC and went home right after, except for me. I decided to wait for my sister so we could go home together. I waited for two hours but no, I didn't get bored. I sang inside those karaoke booths, checked out books on sale, and played that grand piano by the music store <s>which I used to not do alone and it was actually fun</s>. Oh yeah, there's this funny thing. While I was playing Bach's Prelude No. 1, a girl asked me if she could have her photo taken with me. I agreed and tried my best to hide all the awkwardness and smile at the camera her mom was holding. I didn't lose my wallet or my mobile phone so I don't think it was some kind of scam. But still, it was weird.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">My sister arrived several minutes later. We dropped by her high school friends who were in McDo and then we finally went home. Finally. FINALLY.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">So here I am, trying to revive my blog. Postponing my reports. Delaying my errands. <s>Talking to you.</s></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><s><br /></s></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And thanking my girlfriends for helping me forget hurt, even just for twenty-four hours.</div>Alyzzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06772615224041742011noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34208645.post-71622733615877595132011-06-20T15:11:00.000+08:002011-06-20T15:12:58.667+08:00Coming Back Home<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Dear Blogspot, I have decided to leave Facebook and Tumblr, well not really leave. I have decided to keep things down. I shall hold my tongue, I mean my fingers, when I'm in either of the said sites. I am to remain quiet. I am to keep drama low.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >I haven't caught up with Tumblr since last summer and lately I'm no longer that interested. My Tumblr has been too full of shallow drama and photos I see no beauty in. Maybe it's just because of the people I follow, I've been thinking of <i>unfollowing </i>those people I don't personally know. And lately my Facebook has been too much about work. That lazy Friday night you thought of logging in and seeing "Dinner tomorrow?" or "I miss you!" has become "Meeting on..." or "Please read..." Yes, it's overwhelming but I do not complain, I repeat, I do not complain about my job. I actually enjoy doing my job. But you know that point when you finally decide to refuse to bring your work home because it will swallow the time you should be spending with yourself or with your family or your friends? It's similar to those jobs which you get paid for. I say yes to "Use Facebook as an aid to sending updates, not really post everything."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Finally, I have decided to come back home. To return to Blogspot which has protected me since second year high school. I'm here to stay, dear Blogspot, until...I don't know. Maybe until I change blogs. Every echo of laughter shall be heard here. Every drop of tear shall be wiped here. Every secret shall be kept here. I must admit that I have to write on my notebook back in QC once in a while. I don't have Internet connection there, you see. I hope you would not think that I'm cheating on you with my notebook.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >I envy those people who can write their emotions freely, so clear and straightforward. It's as if they don't care that other people might read it. That is why I have returned, dear Blogspot. I wish to write like they do. I wish to write my feelings no matter how informal and incoherent my post would be. Maybe in here, just in here, I can ignore what people will say. This will be my little world where only I am fit of surviving. I will sit on top of it and watch my life play like normal people watch the sun rise and set. I can replay those happy moments when my dad used to carry me on his shoulders or that time when I was kissed in the rain. I can skip those nights I felt like there were monsters under my bed or that night I learned of truths and lies. After all, no one even bothers to visit you, dear old Blogspot. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >I'm not closed to guests, just so you know. Travelers are actually very welcome and sharing anecdotes are even more appreciated. Be warned, though. This world I have created is not just butterflies and rainbows. It has storms and serpents and daggers so sharp they can cut through your chest. If, however, you miraculously choose to stay, I must say I am very accommodating. I shall make your bed and provide you with the softest pillows and the warmest blankets. I shall prepare you a hearty breakfast and maybe you can help me make my little world more suitable for living. Maybe we could plant trees and make music.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Anything.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >But war.</span></div>Alyzzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06772615224041742011noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34208645.post-33343713837453397222011-06-04T16:01:00.006+08:002011-06-04T19:38:26.959+08:00The Farm<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">The farm. That's what's keeping my mom and dad busy. I was never that fond of the farm until my dad called me one March evening and showed me his first 'harvest'.</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEvcauzoDxgyaS1EfPS29p0ZllwbdgI4S7rwHzYyQ0ZG1GvS76Ie0etm1L4YkiLd7dUZDdVY20_Wnc7AEZrBNoAgiEVKld7mClOI8MRQdjXZ5kGTAxns2etElF0fkE-YDJIwgw/s1600/P3120292.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEvcauzoDxgyaS1EfPS29p0ZllwbdgI4S7rwHzYyQ0ZG1GvS76Ie0etm1L4YkiLd7dUZDdVY20_Wnc7AEZrBNoAgiEVKld7mClOI8MRQdjXZ5kGTAxns2etElF0fkE-YDJIwgw/s1600/P3120292.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEvcauzoDxgyaS1EfPS29p0ZllwbdgI4S7rwHzYyQ0ZG1GvS76Ie0etm1L4YkiLd7dUZDdVY20_Wnc7AEZrBNoAgiEVKld7mClOI8MRQdjXZ5kGTAxns2etElF0fkE-YDJIwgw/s320/P3120292.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614276012855581762" style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">We poured salad dressing on the lettuce leaves and everyone had a taste of Dad's first 'harvest'. I can't remember what happened to the <i>calamansi</i> though.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">It was like that every Saturday night. Mom and Dad would come home from the farm bringing vegetables and fruits. Soon their harvests were more than enough so we had to share it with my grandma and my aunt. We're not yet selling our vegetables.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">During the Holy Week, Dad took us to the farm so we could help Mom harvest.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJqb0JUGN8sHs_qSvBiqENqcs-ovgFJwRDVUrUWYObH9KssrqX7MxBDX7wWtotyT0pTk-ddXnc7Ov4dNnEkqJMDFgAqCjkhN015CLojkQ8WqIk3xB6FevvDZmV9qtHpsQA2TEn/s320/Holy+Week.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614288809623453874" style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Oh yeah, we have pigs too. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI4Hby_TOuY7ZtbdgsFhzruLmbGH6pjSz8EbuUgawmEDBOa8z8smovCqKQ3Mye9Fdd8L9YIg5zdix1wJFke4xLb5GKDlwMJdoPxg7fHD9XrnQADJXIYC_RalW23dYB4Ph0xY_F/s320/P4020457.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614282400883857810" style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">This one's my favorite. I named her Caramel.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxnaKGfP7BgkTaVsvk2_snHqIdQSAuNmnXGBK92XkDQZYkxV5YYFBuhKMjjvQ-sJa4UDlvnPg9zi8truPtOA1fcNF0eReyBs9VsvCL8NOV2weKA2pcgQP3h3kmFKnqbFS9qKll/s320/P4210629.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614282406435026066" style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">And this is my favorite "piglet shot". BTW, I named her Babe.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx2e-sd5eZC049Nc3_XiRrLYPJz_pPiAnqQIesiS_yGNWveIoB574WKlNsVdupSnZ0QouDUQw28L1QNFVBQJHCqpaSTjE6lW7CK7VRuuuN1N2rOhoBPEPgientQORqvouzeJxE/s320/P4020474.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614282411776701890" style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">And we have a mommy pig - or a sow. We haven't named her yet.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgatKqzrzG9ZoqaVi92TlnW_B2JiIBtypz87ShZphCBmnU-PMwZeWrWj19rUtqmG-LHu7hMq-x6TAc7IVg3WDijIh_c36VsUvSumViFbKYy1ItfjoIqQXgw4iquP20bU3dCWBwn/s320/P4210636.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614288820981261362" style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Just two weeks ago I revisited the farm and I was surprised to see that we now have turkeys and sheep. The sheep are a little shy. They run away when you come near so you can't touch them and feel their uber soft fleece. Too bad. And the turkeys, they're laying eggs now! No egg has hatched yet but I'm looking forward to seeing little turkeys running all over the place. Unfortunately, I left my camera in QC so I won't be posting turkey shots and sheep shots. I promise to post them soon. For now, enjoy vegetable pics :)</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_hYsCM1-DYqDb2kON7htJzZdhwU9GSv8FGLzc64aG1Qn0Ps57HkiurKa7r_u-gz5sQzMfgVPDEvH1IdLs3bQLq-Vgw6ieG2t6qaJPO8kbW-odeMXGE_5bJVpxhyaNp5EKhpbW/s320/Holy+Week1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614291885168939858" style="text-align: justify;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></span></span></div></div>Alyzzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06772615224041742011noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34208645.post-65033067510684653622011-03-26T16:05:00.003+08:002011-03-27T21:49:14.619+08:00Writing Your Heart Out<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >It's sad seeing my blog inactive. For months I have been thinking of what story to write or what experience to share. Nothing comes. Everything happens so fast and hazy making it impossible to notice. Stories end as soon as the next morning comes. Feelings don't last long. Before I even get to the computer, my story has already expired. Why write a story that has been alive for only a short moment? Why write a story that has died when its very purpose is to keep the content alive - the heart beating, blood flowing, and the mind dreaming.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Two nights ago I finally understood. There <i>is </i>a story that lives inside me. It has been living for, I don't know, years? It's a story so alive I can feel it beat with my heart and flow with my blood...inside me. It's as if we coexist, that it would die at my death. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Why I learned of this story only now when, in fact, it has been living for years, I need not ask. The answer dawned upon me even before the question was raised. <i>I'm a liar.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >I lie about everything - about what I did, about what I want, about what I feel. If lying to someone else is bad enough, I don't know what lying to oneself is. Yes, I lie to myself. I know what I want and I know what I feel. I know what will make me feel better but I refuse to admit that it's what I need. I find other activities to put my attention to just to bury the story. I keep myself busy with other things when I know that after the pile of work has been accomplished the story will resurface and haunt me. I tell myself that everything will fall into place in time when I know that it will never be until the story has been told.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >That's when I realized why writing has become a rare activity for me. I was afraid that people would get tired of the same story I have been telling for years. I was worried that it would bore them to read the same old stories about bleeding and wrath. But you know what, I'm thinking of writing more stories about bleeding and wrath now. Because I would rather write about pain and hatred than not to write at all. </span></div>Alyzzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06772615224041742011noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34208645.post-23952005165777213862011-03-12T09:35:00.001+08:002011-03-12T09:38:25.135+08:00Trip to the Wild<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwWoP3X_30O4sZEc7kUbCikiZVthqdmGb6vX9XWV6IrRYMwCoLGRa8xFGr-6MzdyhRswCMe-M0V94_eOrT-lfzCSOfKP4angRKNplIX2MaZbncAKaEi8uqzqd9EiaMfQ0ah1TO/s1600/P3110265.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwWoP3X_30O4sZEc7kUbCikiZVthqdmGb6vX9XWV6IrRYMwCoLGRa8xFGr-6MzdyhRswCMe-M0V94_eOrT-lfzCSOfKP4angRKNplIX2MaZbncAKaEi8uqzqd9EiaMfQ0ah1TO/s320/P3110265.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583001596013275538" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 22px; "><p style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >We visited the Ninoy Aquino Parks and Wildlife Nature Center yesterday to get an interview with one of the veterinarians, Dr. Steven Toledo. He was very nice and he answered all our questions very adequately. One of the questions I asked him was if he had a personal favorite. He answered that it was difficult to get too attached to the animals because letting go would be hard. He had a personal favorite, a baby gorilla. I noticed that his eyes became a little teary when he was telling us that the baby gorilla died due to some disease. What moved me was that when I asked him if they had any kind of problems maintaining the center. He said that he was hoping that we could help them and that we become biologists instead of a medical doctor. That debate, between biology and medicine, is a thought I have been bothered lately but that would be an entirely different post. I could go on writing about the many things I have learned from him but that would be delaying my date with sweet organic chemistry.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >Anyway, that picture of the deer above is my favorite; its sadness raising awareness of animal welfare.</span></p></span>Alyzzahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06772615224041742011noreply@blogger.com0