<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4744826632513583994</id><updated>2011-07-08T19:21:20.649+08:00</updated><category term='joss whedon'/><category term='burgis'/><category term='women'/><category term='starving artist'/><category term='byaheng dyipni'/><category term='90&apos;s baby'/><category term='fic'/><category term='buffy'/><title type='text'>ULAN</title><subtitle type='html'>Sinong 'di mababaliw?</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818546965720884854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SeHa0VJIMiI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Vse5D3-f8yc/S220/RSCN8087.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>38</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4744826632513583994.post-6075106236871030718</id><published>2009-09-17T04:28:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-17T04:29:39.835+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fic'/><title type='text'>Lazarus</title><content type='html'>Jesus!&lt;br /&gt;You&lt;br /&gt;kill me and raise me&lt;br /&gt;whenever you will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://asifweclaire.tumblr.com&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4744826632513583994-6075106236871030718?l=paperpins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://asifweclaire.tumblr.com/post/189598510/lazarus' title='Lazarus'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/feeds/6075106236871030718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4744826632513583994&amp;postID=6075106236871030718' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/6075106236871030718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/6075106236871030718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/2009/09/lazarus.html' title='Lazarus'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818546965720884854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SeHa0VJIMiI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Vse5D3-f8yc/S220/RSCN8087.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4744826632513583994.post-3778116629931160435</id><published>2009-09-07T10:47:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-09-07T11:11:03.065+08:00</updated><title type='text'>MOVED!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: verdana;font-size:100%;" &gt;Again. Sorry. This layout is so ugly. :P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:180%;"  &gt;&lt;a href="http://asifweclaire.tumblr.com/"&gt;COLOR CODED CATS&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Di pala move, hehe. Dito na lang scratch paper. :P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4744826632513583994-3778116629931160435?l=paperpins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/feeds/3778116629931160435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4744826632513583994&amp;postID=3778116629931160435' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/3778116629931160435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/3778116629931160435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/2009/09/moved.html' title='MOVED!'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818546965720884854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SeHa0VJIMiI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Vse5D3-f8yc/S220/RSCN8087.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4744826632513583994.post-324542883427431530</id><published>2009-05-27T06:52:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2009-05-27T07:19:37.665+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fic'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='90&apos;s baby'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='burgis'/><title type='text'>Chickenjoy</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: verdana;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/Shx3NVsz5jI/AAAAAAAAAE4/0Wf7tEWIB98/s1600-h/chickenjoy2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 229px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/Shx3NVsz5jI/AAAAAAAAAE4/0Wf7tEWIB98/s320/chickenjoy2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340274329201665586" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: verdana;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/Shx3NNl4KSI/AAAAAAAAAEw/y4NqOJN7YpU/s1600-h/chickenjoy.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 151px; height: 168px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/Shx3NNl4KSI/AAAAAAAAAEw/y4NqOJN7YpU/s320/chickenjoy.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340274327025101090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Naaalala mo pa ba nung nabubuhay ka tapos di ka pa naman nakakatikim ng Chickenjoy? Tapos yung ordinaryong fried chicken masaya ka na. Akala mo the mega ever ever best na ang fried chicken? Na bonus na lang ang may ketchup. Na tuyo yung laman pero okey olrayt lang kasi masarap yung balat? Tapos, biglang dadalhin ka ng magulang mo sa Jollibee. Di mo naman hiningi yun. Masaya ka naman sa lungga mo sa bahay kung saan may sarili kang mundo ng mga evil seductive Barbies at mag-asawang Robot at Barbie at mga kotseng tagapagligtas ng mundo kasama ni little figurine Sailor Moon along with Green Ranger na pinipindot yung belt niya tas magiging si Tommy siya kung gusto mo. O kaya yung kukuha kayo ng kapatid mo ng tali at lalambitin kayo sa hagdanan kasi nagma-mountain climbing kayo. O kaya gugupit kayo ng isang mahabang strip of paper mula sa coupon bond tas kakabit niyo sa stick tas dun kayo sa terrace niyo, papaliparin niyo ung mahabang strip of paper na talagang may real hope na aabot yung dulo dun sa clouds? Habang hawak mo yung stick kaya feeling mo konektado na kayo ng clouds?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;One day aalisin ka dun e. Isang hapon lang. O isang umaga. Masaya daw sa pupuntahan niyo. Mayroong playground. At masaya nga naman. Nakakilala ka ng ilang bata kasi yun pa yung mga panahong kahit sino kakausapin mo at magiging kaibigan mo kahit isang hapon lang o isang umaga. At di kayo iiyak kung maghihiwalay na kayo ng landas kasi sa isip mo marami pang katulad niya na bata na makikita mo at magiging kaibigan mo at masaya yun. Kasi di naman talaga siya yung gusto mong kalaro kundi lahat ng bata sa mundo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Tapos ayun, ayun, ayun, papakainin ka ng chickenjoy ng nanay mo. O tatay mo. Depende kung magkasama sila o hiwalay na. O kung nag-aaway sila ng mga panahon yun pero di mo mapapansin kasi wow, wow, wow. Wow. Ano itong nasa dila mo? Ano itong malutong? Ano itong makapal, basa, at hindi gumagasgas sa lalamunan mo? Wow, wow. Wow. Tapos parang kung di ka na naniniwala sa Diyos, maniniwala ka sa mga pagkakataong iyon. Pero naniniwala ka pa noon sa Diyos e kaya nagpapasalamat ka na lang kasi lahat ng problema mo nawala. Pero wala ka pang problema nun e. Masaya ang lahat. Masaya. Masayang-masaya.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Pero ikaw, ikaw ngayon ay lost. At wala na ngayong kwenta ang ordinaryong fried chicken, kahit pa may ketchup o Mang Tomas o sweet chili sauce na di mo pa noon kilala. Kasi gusto mo yung Chickenjoy. Lalo na yung leg part kasi pag bata ka, leg part lang ang alam mo. Pero buwakanang shet, di mo dinedeserve ito. Di mo dinedeserve na mabaliw ng ganito. Hindi mo naman hiningi yung Chickenjoy e. Ayaw mo pa nga nung manok nung nag-order kayo kasi sabi mo spaghetti! Spaghetti! Spaghetti ang gusto mo! Pero di daw, kailangan mo daw magkanin nung araw na yun. Kaya ayun, pinakilala nila sayo. Ikaw naman tong tanga, sinubo-subo mo. Ayan tuloy, ayan tuloy. Natikman mo na. Di ka na makakabalik. Buhay mo na ang Chickenjoy. Ayaw mo na ng ibang manok. Kahit ibang pagkain. Chickenjoy lang ang hanap mo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Ngayong matanda ka na at may pera, pupunta kang Jollibee at bibili ng Chickenjoy. Kapag may berdey party, sasabihin mo Chicken--este Jollibee tayo mga friends. Kapag inaway ka ng prof mong mayroong hairstyle ni Mayor sa Powerpuff at manyakis pala siya, okey lang ang lahat, mayroon kang pera, mayroon kang Chickenjoy. Chickenjoy is love. Chickenjoy is heart. Yun lang ang hanap mo. Kapag bibili ka sa Divisoria at tatanungin nila kung ano ang hanap mo? Di ka magbibiro ng sagot ukol sa pag-ibig at kapayapaan. Sasabihin mo Chickenjoy. Dahil mismong ang Chickenjoy ang pag-ibig at kapayapaan.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Hanggang one day isang araw, sabi ng Papa mo, o Mama mo. O kung sinumang sumusustento sa buhay mo na galing sa Amerika, Indonesia, o Saudi. Anak, kailangan nating magtipid, di tayo makakapunta sa lingguhang Jollibee ha? Huwag ka munang kumain sa fastfood ha. Eto o, pishball. Masarap yan.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Pero ang narinig mo lang ay di ka na makakain ng chickenjoy, joy, joy, joy. Kasi may matching echo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Pagkatapos ng lahat, di ka na makakain ng Chickenjoy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Ano na ang gagawin mo? Ano?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4744826632513583994-324542883427431530?l=paperpins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/feeds/324542883427431530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4744826632513583994&amp;postID=324542883427431530' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/324542883427431530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/324542883427431530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/2009/05/chickenjoy.html' title='Chickenjoy'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818546965720884854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SeHa0VJIMiI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Vse5D3-f8yc/S220/RSCN8087.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/Shx3NVsz5jI/AAAAAAAAAE4/0Wf7tEWIB98/s72-c/chickenjoy2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4744826632513583994.post-5758930238397838051</id><published>2009-03-26T02:11:00.006+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-26T02:46:29.072+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fic'/><title type='text'>On That Note</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;We used to sing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Until we ran out of breath&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Giggle&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Like high schoolers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Or lightly, sometimes accidentally, hardly, hit each other's arms&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;With we're-being-foolish twinkle in our eyes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Fall back on the couch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Or bed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Or table&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Or behind that door, remember that door &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Adjacent to that mirror&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;I keep trying not to look at&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Not to look into&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;But you keep making me?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;I saw five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;In that mirror&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Reflect in my eyes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;And how I wish it never fades&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;For I can't hear you right now&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;You're voice drums into a steady hum, a steady whisper&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Finally an echo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Until I hear that click&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;I know&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;The phone is put down&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;The line is cut&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;The phone is dead&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;And I am left with a song&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;I can only sing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;More&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Until &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;I can't hold onto the reflection in my eyes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;Until &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;I ran out of breath&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4744826632513583994-5758930238397838051?l=paperpins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/feeds/5758930238397838051/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4744826632513583994&amp;postID=5758930238397838051' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/5758930238397838051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/5758930238397838051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/2009/03/on-that-note.html' title='On That Note'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818546965720884854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SeHa0VJIMiI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Vse5D3-f8yc/S220/RSCN8087.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4744826632513583994.post-7267428575156460265</id><published>2009-03-08T06:10:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-09T18:37:25.166+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='starving artist'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='burgis'/><title type='text'>Post-Partum Post 1</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SbTxNjporoI/AAAAAAAAAD0/vEwRDnqgBHE/s1600-h/SDC11612.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SbTxNjporoI/AAAAAAAAAD0/vEwRDnqgBHE/s320/SDC11612.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311135075787124354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ako: Ayoko talaga ng poetry reading. Kaya nga ako nagsusulat para hindi gumamit ng aktwal na voice chords e.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ikaw: Oo. Ang alam ko 'pag poetry, parang reflection nga siya, 'di ba? Parang sarili mo lang. Private.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ako: A, iba kasi ang sina-subscribe nilang konsepto ng tula. Alam mo 'yun. 'Yung shine-share. Para sa lahat. Community. Communal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ikaw: Parang CR lang pala.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4744826632513583994-7267428575156460265?l=paperpins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/feeds/7267428575156460265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4744826632513583994&amp;postID=7267428575156460265' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/7267428575156460265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/7267428575156460265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/2009/03/post-partum-post-1.html' title='Post-Partum Post 1'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818546965720884854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SeHa0VJIMiI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Vse5D3-f8yc/S220/RSCN8087.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SbTxNjporoI/AAAAAAAAAD0/vEwRDnqgBHE/s72-c/SDC11612.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4744826632513583994.post-149058432695355363</id><published>2009-03-08T05:43:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2009-03-08T06:06:17.642+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fic'/><title type='text'>Where are the Specifics?</title><content type='html'>Eating has always fascinated me. The scratch of the spoon on the plate, the plunge of the fork in that slice of meat, the scoop—ah, that scoop. That little scoop of rice that forms a tiny mount on your spoon, eventually slipping in your mouth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your lips part, just slightly. You press the mount on your lips, just slightly. As if feeling for something. As if already tasting. I catch a glimpse of your tongue and I turn back to my plate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve already written about this. Twice, I’m not really sure. But it was the same work. All the same work. The same work I’m finding in you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It must be work, the way you chew your food into a perfect grind. I can almost hear the clashing of your teeth. And there’s that tongue again. This time, I don’t turn back to my plate. Our eyes meet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It happened before too. I wrote about cloudy heavens and dancing smoke to capture—dare I say it? Love. Love or something more subtle. Love is so explicit. We have to cover everything up with metaphors, I know. Like these rituals. My rituals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of falling in line.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fall in line, exactly two people behind you. You say hi, I say hey. And then we’re eating together. Then I watch. Then I write.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I write about how our eyes meet, but it doesn’t really. I’ve already written about it thrice, and that’s for a fact. Our eyes meet and you put your spoon back on your plate, or your cigarette stick back on the edge of that table—or is it…? Nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our eyes meet and you smile. Then you ramble on about what’s-his-or-her-face as I think,&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; our eyes meet&lt;/span&gt;. And I smile. And my eyes shine, but you&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; ramble&lt;/span&gt;. I ask, do I turn back to my plate?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You fall in line, exactly two people behind me. You say hey, I say hi. And then we’re smoking together. Then I watch. Then I write.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I write about how it must be work, the way you puff all that smoke in your lungs. I wonder if your lungs quiver the way your pouting lips do. That neck tenses slightly tighter on the right side. There, just below the trace of that wrinkle beneath your earlobe. Your jaw clenches and unclenches. Your cheeks suck deep. And always, that corner of your mouth tugs a little lower with a smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Smoking has always fascinated me. The scratch of the thumb on the lighter, the hanging of the stick unto the cleavage of the lips, the inhaling—ah, that inhaling. That little one-two-three in the mind, before taking a light breathe. In perfect harmony with the dancing flame.&lt;br /&gt;In perfect harmony of the cliché that dances. Of you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I say I’m writing this right now, does that also add to such evidence of “I’ve already written about this”? If it will happen tomorrow, could it happen before tomorrow? Do I need to specify &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;“also”&lt;/span&gt;? I write of meeting eyes, of falling in lines, of harmonies dancing, of eating, of smoking, of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;fascination, &lt;/span&gt;and all I go back to is love. Love that hides and goes in circles, that happens tomorrow, that happened before tomorrow, that I just already wrote but am now currently writing. Therefore, it is the same work. The same work I found in you, and I’m finding in you. Or should I specify the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;he’s&lt;/span&gt; and the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;she’s&lt;/span&gt;? I’ll give us a clue: there are &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;two&lt;/span&gt; you’s and they might be a he and a she, or a she and a she, or a he and a he.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, no. In all actuality, there’s just you. Love, there’s just you. There’s just love. Stripped of metaphors that make the difference. But we have to be subtle, I know, or suffer the boredom of explicit love. Or be totally devoid of the puzzle that makes the rituals. And end up seeing only you, no past and no future. And you, love, are boring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve already written about this. I’ve already lied about this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4744826632513583994-149058432695355363?l=paperpins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/feeds/149058432695355363/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4744826632513583994&amp;postID=149058432695355363' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/149058432695355363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/149058432695355363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/2009/03/where-are-specifics.html' title='Where are the Specifics?'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818546965720884854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SeHa0VJIMiI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Vse5D3-f8yc/S220/RSCN8087.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4744826632513583994.post-1944577377163892962</id><published>2009-02-14T21:17:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-14T21:19:04.889+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fic'/><title type='text'>"We can still be friends."</title><content type='html'>Beg. Nod. Bed. Cum. Repeat.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4744826632513583994-1944577377163892962?l=paperpins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/feeds/1944577377163892962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4744826632513583994&amp;postID=1944577377163892962' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/1944577377163892962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/1944577377163892962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/2009/02/we-can-still-be-friends.html' title='&quot;We can still be friends.&quot;'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818546965720884854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SeHa0VJIMiI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Vse5D3-f8yc/S220/RSCN8087.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4744826632513583994.post-8077180950540028372</id><published>2009-02-07T21:54:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2009-02-07T22:07:39.981+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='women'/><title type='text'>Peminista Ako</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;“Hindi naman sa feminist ako ha pero…”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;Madaming beses ko na itong narinig kapag pinag-uusapan ang karapatan ng isang babae. Akala ko, noong umpisa, ako nga lang ang may ganitong karanasan. Pero noong nagkaroon ako ng isang kaibigang gurong nagsasabing ganito rin ang naririnig niya mula sa kanyang mga estudyante, nakumpirma ang hinala ko na may takot ang mga (ilang) tao (sa Pilipinas) na maging peminista. Baka ma-associate kasi sa mga taong hindi nag-aahit ng kili-kili o binti. O baka isiping lesbiyana sila. O kung sa kaso ng lalaking nagdi-disclaimer, isiping bakla sila. Nagmamakaawa kasi ang mga ganitong disclaimer: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;Please, huwag na huwag niyong iisiping feminist ako ha? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;Iba-iba ang varyasyon ng disclaimer. Mayroon na rin akong iilang taong naririnig na “Feminist ako, pero hindi masyado.” Pinigilan kong literal na mapakamot ng ulo sa harap ng mga taong binabanggit ‘to. Parang,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt; bakla ako pero hindi masyado&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;. O, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;aktibista ako pero kaunti lang&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;. Naiintindihan ko naman ang konsepto ng gray areas, na baka nga hindi sila ganap na peminista, bakla, babae, estudyante, Kristyano, Buddhist o kung ano pa man sa mata ng ibang tao, pero pati ba naman sa sarili nilang mga mata? Wala ba silang balak ipagpatuloy sa white o black area ang pagiging feminist nila? Wala na bang patutunguhan ang relationship nila sa feminism, hanggang sa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt; it’s complicated&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt; na lang? Ano ba ang takot na mayroon ang mga tao na maging card-carrying feminist?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;Nang tanungin sa klase kung sino sa amin ang peminista, nagulat ako nang walang nagtaas ng kamay (lalo na’t bahagya kong naaalala na sa umpisa nang klase, may nagsabing peminista siya… pero hindi daw masyado). Sa gulat ko pa nga, natagalan ako sa pagtaas ng kamay ko. Parang, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;okay, ako lang ba ang magtataas ng kamay&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;Ayoko pa naman maging attention-grabber.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; Pero siyempre, kinailangan kong ipaalala sa sarili ko na hindi umiikot ang mundo sa’kin kaya nagtaas ako ng kamay, bilang ma-pride din siguro ako—ikahihiya ko ang sarili kung hindi ako magtataas ng kamay. Aba, mawawalan yata ng saysay ang lahat ng gender discussions na ginagawa ko sa labas ng klase. Mawawalan yata ng saysay ang lahat ng mga sinulat kong maikling kwento o ano pa mang anyo ng akda kung hindi ko masagot ang simpleng tanong na kung peminista ba ako o hindi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;“Paano mo nasabing feminist ka?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;Doon na din siguro naging it’s complicated. Napatanga lang talaga ako doon sa tanong. Ano daw ebidensya ko. Paano ba ako naging peminista? Bakit ako peminista? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;Bakit, bakit, bakit?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt; Sa loob ng millisecond, paikot-ikot sa isip ko ang tanong hanggang sa nasabi kong&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt; oo nga no… teka, kailan nga ba ako nagsimulang maging peminista? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;Kaya ako natawa sa klase. Kasi alam kong magbibigay ako ng “showbiz answer,” peminista ako dahil insert-kung-ano-mang-nabasa-kong-statement-sa-libro-here. Hindi naman sa hindi totoo ang “showbiz answer,” dahil totoo namang peminista ako dahil sumasang-ayon ako sa ideolohiya ng pagkakapantay-pantay ng kasarian (o kahit na lahi, uri, at kung ano pang kategorya ‘yan) at na kailangan itong ipaglaban kasi nga hindi tayo pantay sa ngayon di ba? Pero kung uungkatin, ang tanong na “Paano mo nasabi” ay magiging “Paano ka ba naging.” At kung aabot sa “Paano ka ba naging,” nandiyan ang tanong na “Kailan ka ba naging.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;Mahaba siguro ang sagot pero sa totoo lang, simple lang ang tanong: what, where, when, why, how?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;Napatanga ako nang tinanong ang pagiging peminista ko dahil sa sobrang tagal ko nang na-associate ang sarili ko dito, para bang tinanong ako kung bakit ako tao. Sa katunayan, naalala ko ang sagot ng isang kaibigan ng tinanong kung bakit siya nagsusulat: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;Ha? Para mo na ring tinanong kung bakit ako tumatae.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt; Nasa sistema na niya e. Maaari ko pa ba talagang matukoy ang tunay na daloy ng paraan kung bakit o kung papaano ako naging peminista? Oo, siguro nga pwede pa akong makapag-cite ng ilang mga karanasan sa buhay na nag-ambag sa ganitong direksyon ng aking paniniwala:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;1. 7 years old ako at nagse-set kami ng table ng 9 years old kong pinsan. “Ganito dapat ang pag-aayos ng spoon at fork,” sabi niya. “Dapat ‘yung spoon ang nasa ibabaw ng fork. Kasi babae siya.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;2. “Ate,” sabi ng 9 years old kong sarili sa pinsan kong high school student na at iniisip kong balon ng katotohanan pag dating sa paborito kong palabas na Sailor Moon. “Bakit magpapakamatay sina Sailor Uranus at Sailor Neptune?” Sagot niya, “A kasi, baka dahil mag-syota sila. E ayaw ng ibang tao yong nagmamahalang dalawang babae e.” Isip ko, “A, ayaw ng ibang tao sa babae…?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;3. Nag-uusap ang mga kamag-anak ko tungkol sa pagiging kagawad ng nanay ko sa barangay, at akala nila, bilang bata ako, hindi ako nakikinig. “Napapabayaan niya ang mga anak niya. Natutulungan niya ang ibang tao pero hindi niya matulungan ang mga anak niya.” Isip ko, “Kailangan ko ba ng tulong?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;4. Tanong ng Ingleserang kaklase noong high school, “Why do you like the show Buffy so much?” Kibit-balikat lang ako at sinabing, “Because I like skirts and she kicks ass in skirts that I like.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;Simple lang din naman kasi ang sagot pero ang problema, baka masyadong mahaba. At minsan simple ang sagot, pero mahirap naman ipaliwanag ang koneksyon nito sa peminismo. At huli, simple ang sagot kasi simple lang talaga siya. Katulad nga nang pagnanasang kumain, makipagtalik, magbasa, makipag-usap, at kung ano pa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;Ibang tanong na lang siguro kapag napunta na sa kahalagahan ng pagkain, pakikipagtalik, pagbabasa, pakikpag-usap at kung ano pa. At ito rin siguro ang Reason #453627 kung bakit ako napatanga sa tanong kung paano ko nasasabing feminist ako. Sa sobrang kahalagahang dala ng pagiging peminista, minsan, hindi makakasagot ng matino ang utak dahil ang sagot na maiisip niya sa bakit ka peminista ay &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;bakit hindi?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;Mahalagang maging peminista. Napakadaming dahilan kung bakit dapat maging peminista. Karamihan (o lahat!) ng karapatan na mayroon ang mga babae ngayon, wala noon. Kinakailangang ipaglaban pa ang mga karapatan na dapat na sa mga babae naman na. At hanggang ngayon, ipinaglalaban pa rin siya. Kaya bilang babae, bilang tao, hindi ba nararapat lang na huwag ipagsawalang bahala ang paglalaban na ito? Kahit man lang bilang pasasalamat sa mga naunang henerasyon na lumaban para sa kalayaang kinakailangang pinaglalaban pa rin hanggang sa ngayon?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;Sa totoo lang, minsan din akong gumagamit ng disclaimer katulad ng “Hindi naman sa feminist ako ha pero…” at “Feminist ako, pero hindi masyado.” Hindi dahil ayokong ma-associate sa mga taong hindi nag-aahit. Kasi mayroong mabigat na responsibilidad kapag naging card-carrying feminist, may kasaysayan ito ng karangalan. At kapag naging card-carrying feminist ang isang tao, tinatanggap niya ang hamon ng karangalang dala-dala ng pagiging peminista.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" &gt;Kaya kahit na nakakatakot, umalis pa rin ako sa gray area at tinigilan na ang mga disclaimers. Hindi pwedeng habang buhay ay it’s complicated ang drama. Kasi, kung gusto ng isang taong may patutunguhan ang relationship, dapat mag-commit. At bilang bitbit ko naman ang isa sa mga rekisito—pagiging in love sa peminismo—hindi ko hahayaang maparalisa lang ng isang walang saysay na elemento laban sa may saysay. Kung papapiliin lang din ako sa pagitan ng takot at peminismo, wala ng tanong-tanong pa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----&lt;br /&gt;A repost from my socsci3 subject blog. http://dissectedforsocsci3.blogspot.com Maybe one day, I could let you all read it. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4744826632513583994-8077180950540028372?l=paperpins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/feeds/8077180950540028372/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4744826632513583994&amp;postID=8077180950540028372' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/8077180950540028372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/8077180950540028372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/2009/02/peminista-ako.html' title='Peminista Ako'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818546965720884854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SeHa0VJIMiI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Vse5D3-f8yc/S220/RSCN8087.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4744826632513583994.post-3499222689460866732</id><published>2009-01-20T21:20:00.020+08:00</published><updated>2009-01-20T23:11:03.334+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='joss whedon'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fic'/><title type='text'>Zippora</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;I recently have two friends squealing fangeek squees regarding scriptwriting prompting me to dig in my backup files for a fantasy/dramedy script passed in my scriptwriting class (like, duh). Also, I just read the original pilot for &lt;a href="http://www.televisionaryblog.com/2007/10/welcome-to-dollhouse-joss-whedon.html"&gt;Joss Whedon's Dollhouse&lt;/a&gt; and is currently delaying working on my thesis critic. And I haven't posted anything for January yet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;I re-read my work and realized I am not that bad as I thought I fared. I mean, okay, I relied too heavy on stereotypes so that I could finish the goddamn subject already (which took me a freaking year, delaying my freaking studies) but there are lines that are still capable of striking up some "whoah" feeling in me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;Although I felt that the first draft of Zippora was funnier, it was also a lot preachy filled with out-of-character lines---but they were witty lines, even if I say so myself---and what the fuck montages. I loved my walking pigs though. Which I unfortunately couldn't incorporate in the final draft.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;This is not a piece of gem so I'm quite confident you're a total media loser if you have to plagiarize a work posted on my blog. :P Still, I'm posting this---aside from the reasons disclaimed above---because even if it's shit (one that could still be polished, I think), it's &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;my &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;shit&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;We were required to indicate where the commercial gaps would be, of course, and we have about three, I think. So there would be four blog posts of my script. Cut in gaps :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;ps. Ang funny ng sinulat ko sa tema. Don't judge me. Hahahaha. Also, don't plagiarize. I have evidence that this is mine of course. :P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;SCRIPT&lt;br /&gt;PARA KAY        : GINOONG REUEL AGUILA&lt;br /&gt;                         : GURO, DFPP, KAL, UP DILIMAN&lt;br /&gt;PARA SA           : MP177 (PAGSUSULAT NG ISKRIP PANTELEBISYON)&lt;br /&gt;                           MHU1&lt;br /&gt;MULA KAY       :UMALI, MARY ANNE CLAIRE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PETSA               : MARSO 2, 2007&lt;br /&gt;TITULO            : ZIPPORA&lt;br /&gt;TEMA                : Hindi tayo malaya dahil hindi natin kayang takasan kung ano tayo at ang&lt;br /&gt;                           tinakda para sa atin dahil sa mga sitwasyong naghuhubog&lt;br /&gt;                           at pumapalibot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ZIPPORA        : anghel na tumakas mula sa langit, gustong matutong&lt;br /&gt;                         magflute at maging tao, kaibigan ni Lana&lt;br /&gt;LANA               : graduating sa high school, gustong kumuha ng music&lt;br /&gt;                         course sa college, laging naka-longsleeves, walang&lt;br /&gt;                         kaibigang tao pero magiging kaibigan ang anghel na si&lt;br /&gt;                         Zippora&lt;br /&gt;PRINCESS       : graduating sa high school na maganda at sikat, inaapi ang&lt;br /&gt;                          pinsang si Lana&lt;br /&gt;GRACE             : klepto, high school student&lt;br /&gt;JOSEPH           : high school student, crush at dating best friend ni Lana&lt;br /&gt;TITA NI LANA: kumupkop kay Lana, pumipilit kay Lana na mag-nursing&lt;br /&gt;KAMATAYAN  : sumusundo sa mga kaluluwa, magbibigay ng impormasyon&lt;br /&gt;                           kay Zippora&lt;br /&gt;DINYA               : anghel na ang trabaho ay panatiliing nasa pwesto ang lahat&lt;br /&gt;                           ng bagay o panatiliing normal ang lahat ng mundo, ang&lt;br /&gt;                           ang hahabol kay Zippora&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SEQUENCE 1: PAARALAN/ HAPON/ EXT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Establishing shot. Makulay at napakaliwanag. Dumadagsa ang mga estudyante palabas at papasok ng building, nag-uusap at nagtatawanan. Mga tipikal na estudyanteng nakasuot ng mga long sleeves na unipormeng maaaring nagsasabing “private school kami”. SUSUNDAN NG CAMERA ang isang estudyanteng babae na maputi, matangkad, sexy, stereotypical na maganda at binabati ng halos lahat ng mga estudyanteng nakakasalubong niya kaya malalaman natin na ang pangalan niya ay PRINCESS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                 CONTINUE TO&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SEQUENCE 2: HALLWAY NG PAARALAN/ HAPON/ INT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Susundan natin si Princess papasok sa hallway. Makakasalubong niya ang isa ring matangkad at maputing babae na naka-akbay sa isang maliit na babae na parang hindi marunong pumatay ng langgam. Mapapansin nating dinudukutan niya ang maliit na babae ng ballpen. Masungit na titignan ni Princess ang mandurukot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PRINCESS&lt;br /&gt;Grace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hihigpitan ni Grace ang hawak sa maliit na babae.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GRACE&lt;br /&gt;Princess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maghahamunan sila ng tingin ng ilang segundo. Pero sa huli, bibitawan ni Grace ang maliit na babae at aalis. Pagkatapos, ibabaling ni Princess ang masungit niyang atensyon sa mukhang takot na takot na babae.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PRINCESS&lt;br /&gt;Lana. Report ko. Bukas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LANA&lt;br /&gt;(medyo mahina ang boses)&lt;br /&gt;Pero, last week, pinagawa mo na ako ng…&lt;br /&gt;hindi ba… dapat, para—&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PRINCESS&lt;br /&gt;(nananakot)&lt;br /&gt;Pinsan. Report ko. Bukas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aalis na si Princess at mananatili nating mapagmamasdan si Lana. Magbubuntong-hininga si Lana at pagkatapos, magsisimulang maglakad sa kabilang direksyon. Sa kanyang paglalakad, makakabangga niya ang isang lalaking mukhang walang pakialam sa buhay at kitang-kita ito sa buhok na hindi pa yata nasusuklay kaya’t dumadapo sa maaamong mata.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LANA&lt;br /&gt;(hiyang-hiya, halos nauutal pero nagmamadali)&lt;br /&gt;Sorry, Joseph.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JOSEPH&lt;br /&gt;Uh, okay lang. Sorry din La... Lana.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pero dirediretso lang magpapatuloy maglakad si Lana. Makikita natin ang nagtatakang mukha ni Joseph pero ibabalik natin agad ang ating atensyon sa nagmamadaling Lana. Kakanan siya sa isang kanto pero sisilip pabalik sa direksyon ni Joseph.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                             MATCH DISSOLVE TO&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SEQUENCE 3: LANGIT/ WALANG ORAS/ INT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Makakakita tayo ng isang nilalang na hindi mahulaan kung babae o lalaki na nakaputi. Nakasilip din siya sa isang mahabang hallway na puti at pagkatapos, mapapansin natin ang hawak-hawak niyang susi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                     CUT TO&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SEQUENCE 4: SALA NI LANA/ GABI/ INT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Malaki, malawak, at mayaman ang bahay. Papasok si Lana at sasalubungin agad ng kanyang TITA, parehas ng kagandahang meroon si Princess at makapal ang make-up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TITA NI LANA&lt;br /&gt;Alam mo ba kung anong oras na?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LANA&lt;br /&gt;S-sorry tita. Di ba, kasi sabi niyo, susunduin niyo ako pero—&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TITA NI LANA&lt;br /&gt;(titingin sa kanyang relo)&lt;br /&gt;Lagi kong nakakalimutang ipaayos tong relo e!&lt;br /&gt;Late na ata ako!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hindi mapakaling maglalakad pabalik-balik, abalang-abala sa pag-aayos ng mga gamit sa bag ang kanyang tita.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TITA NI LANA (cont.)&lt;br /&gt;I have some friends waiting for me&lt;br /&gt;kaya sorry dear, kung no time for chit chat.&lt;br /&gt;Just remember ha, always study hard&lt;br /&gt;(hahalikan si Lana sa pisngi)&lt;br /&gt;dahil hindi porke honor student ka na,&lt;br /&gt;magpapabaya ka na.&lt;br /&gt;Alam mo namang mahirap na&lt;br /&gt;ang competition sa nursing ngayon.&lt;br /&gt;Always remember you’re doing this for your parents&lt;br /&gt;(magmumukhang seryoso at magsa-sign of the cross,&lt;br /&gt;pagkatapos ng ilang segundo, ngingiti muli)&lt;br /&gt;kaya always be good ha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tatango si Lana. Darating si Princess at hahalikan siya ng kanyang nanay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TITA NI LANA (cont.)&lt;br /&gt;O, anak ha. Be good.&lt;br /&gt;I’ll be back by… basta, I’ll be back.&lt;br /&gt;And please. Try hard sa studies?&lt;br /&gt;Tignan mo si Lana.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Makikita niyang napasimangot si Princess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TITA NI LANA (cont.)&lt;br /&gt;Nandyan naman kasi ang pinsan mo.&lt;br /&gt;Ask help if you need one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PRINCESS&lt;br /&gt;(biglang mukhang nagpipigil ng tawa)&lt;br /&gt;I will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hatak-hatak ang naayos nang bag, aalis ang tita ni Lana. Magtitinginan ang mag-pinsan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PRINCESS&lt;br /&gt;Pa’no ka nakauwi?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LANA&lt;br /&gt;Jeep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PRINCESS&lt;br /&gt;(parang nandidiri)&lt;br /&gt;Wala bang taxi?&lt;br /&gt;Sabi ko kasi sa’yo, wag mo nang hintayin si Mommy e.&lt;br /&gt;Kailan ba tumupad sa usapan ‘yan?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maglalakad siya papunta sa sopa at bubuksan ang TV.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PRINCESS (cont.)&lt;br /&gt;Report ko ha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Magbubuntong-hininga lang si Lana at magsisimulang umakyat patungo sa kanyang kuwarto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SEQUENCE 5: KWARTO NI LANA/ GABI/ INT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PAN OVER ang camera sa sandamukal na fantasy, sci-fi at mga horror na libro na nagpapakita muli sa kayamanan ng kanyang tita. Magpapakita rin ng mga larawan sa kanyang mesa. May larawan ng masayang mga magulang kasama ang isang sanggol at naroon sila kasama ang isang nakangiting maliit na bata sa isa pang larawan. Dalawa lang ang larawang nagpapakita ng masayang magulang. Ang ibang larawan ay puro award session mula noong gradeschool pa kasama ang masayang-masayang tita at ang hindi nakangiting bata. May isa ring larawan ng batang babae pa rin at isang lalaking malapit na kaibigan na halos nakatago sa dulo ng mesa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Papasok si Lana sa frame mula sa kanyang banyo. Uupo siya sa kama at tatanggalin niya ang kanyang long sleeves na uniform. CLOSE SHOT sa kanyang braso. Makikita nating may mga mahahabang peklat ito. Maglalabas siya ng razor blade mula sa malapit na drawer at dahil dito, alam na nating dadagdagan pa niya ito.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                 TIME CUT TO&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SEQUENCE 6: KWARTO NI LANA/ GABI/ INT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Naka-long sleeves na pantulog na si Lana. Nakikita na lang natin ngayon siyang tumutugtog ng flute. Pagkatapos nito, matutulog na siya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                     CUT TO&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SEQUENCE 7: LANGIT/ WALANG ORAS/ INT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ang nakaputing nilalang na hindi mahulaan kung babae o lalaki ay tumatakbo na ngayon. Titigil lamang siya kapag nakarating siya sa harapan ng isang napakalaking pintuan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                     CUT TO&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SEQUENCE 8: KWARTO NI LANA/ GABI/ INT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ang susunod na lang nating makikita ay babagsak ang nakaputing nilalang kay Lana. Naguguluhang mapapatayo ang nakaputi sa kama. Sa puntong ito, maalimpungatan naman si Lana. Ididilat niya ang mga mata at matatanaw ang nakatayong nilalang sa kanyang kama. Ipipikit niya muli ang mga mata niya. Pagkaraan ng ilang segundo, matatauhan, mapapadilat, mapapaupo, at mapapahiyaw.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Magugulat ang nakaputing nilalang at malaglag sa lapag. Si Lana naman, mahigpit na hawak-hawak ang kumot, hahablutin ang mga katabing picture frames sa mesa at ibabato ito sa nilalang.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ZIPPORA&lt;br /&gt;(umiiwas sa mga picture frames)&lt;br /&gt;Teka, teka… Pasensya…&lt;br /&gt;Hindi ako masama— Pangalan ko, Zippora—&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nagmamadaling hahalungkatin ni Lana ang drawer at pagkalabas ng kamay niya ay may hawak na itong cellphone. CLOSE SHOT sa cellphone upang makita nating tatawagan niya ang kanyang tita. Habang ring lang ng ring ang phone, ang isang kamay niya ay patuloy pa rin ng kung anong mahablot at maitapon kay Zippora na halos idikit ang sarili sa sulok ng kwarto. Nang wala pa ring sumagot sa tawag niya at naubusan na siya ng maibabato, tatakbo si Lana palabas ng kwarto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                 CONTINUE TO&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SEQUENCE 9: PINTUAN NG KWARTO NI PRINCESS/ GABI/ INT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nagmamadali at malakas ang pagkatok ni Lana sa pinto. Bubukas ang pinto at isang naguguluhan, nakasimangot at obvious na bagong gising na Princess ang sasalubong sa FRAME.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PRINCESS&lt;br /&gt;(pasigaw)&lt;br /&gt;May depekto ka ba sa utak? Alam mo ba—&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hahatakin lang si Princess ni Lana patungo sa direksyon ng kabilang kwarto. Mula sa labas ng kwarto, ituturo ni Lana si Zippora. CLOSE SHOT sa sulok ng kwarto kung nasaan dapat nakadikit si Zippora pero wala ng laman ito.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PAN OVER ang camera kay Lana na naiiyak na nagtuturo. Babalik ulit ang camera sa CLOSE SHOT nito sa sulok ng kwarto at makikita nating nandoon pa rin naman si Zippora, nakaupo na lang at naghihintay sa araw ng panghuhusga.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PAN OVER pabalik naman kay Princess na titignan muli ang sulok. CLOSE SHOT sa sulok pero wala pa rin siyang makita.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PRINCESS&lt;br /&gt;Ano?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LANA&lt;br /&gt;Tao! Nakaputi!&lt;br /&gt;Sa kwarto ko! Mula sa kawalan!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PRINCESS&lt;br /&gt;Saan?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LANA&lt;br /&gt;(patuloy na nagtuturo)&lt;br /&gt;Ayun!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PRINCESS&lt;br /&gt;Hindi ko alam kung alin ka sa dalawang ito…&lt;br /&gt;(pasigaw)&lt;br /&gt;Baliw! Papansin!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Malakas niyang itutulak si Lana sa loob ng kwarto, isasara ang pintuan at babalik patungo sa sarili niyang kwarto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                     CUT TO&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SEQUENCE 10: KWARTO NI LANA/ GABI/ INT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nakaupo si Zippora sa sulok ng kwarto. Nakatayo si Lana at ayaw tignan si Zippora.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LANA&lt;br /&gt;(halos pabulong sa kanyang sarili)&lt;br /&gt;Sabi sa isang magazine, pwede mangyari ‘to.&lt;br /&gt;Stress lang ‘to. Stress.&lt;br /&gt;Pwede ring nasobrahan ka na ng kakabasa&lt;br /&gt;ng mga walang kwentang libro.&lt;br /&gt;Gumagana lang ang imahinasyon mo.&lt;br /&gt;Stress. Stress lang.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pipikit si Lana. Takot siyang titignan ni Zippora na dahan-dahang tumatayo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LANA (cont.)&lt;br /&gt;Pagkabilang ko ng tatlo,&lt;br /&gt;mawawala ka na.&lt;br /&gt;(hihinga ng malalim)&lt;br /&gt;One… two… three.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Didilat siya. Siyempre, nandoon pa rin si Zippora.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LANA (cont.)&lt;br /&gt;Okay. Ten.&lt;br /&gt;Hindi naman ako mapiling tao.&lt;br /&gt;One… two… three…&lt;br /&gt;four… five… six… seven—&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ZIPPORA&lt;br /&gt;Um, eight nine ten.&lt;br /&gt;Nandito pa rin ako.&lt;br /&gt;Sorry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LANA&lt;br /&gt;Ooo…kay. Kabaliwan.&lt;br /&gt;Sabi ng magazine, pwede mangyari ‘to.&lt;br /&gt;Dahil rin sa stress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ZIPPORA&lt;br /&gt;Hindi, hindi.&lt;br /&gt;(palapit sana kay Lana pero agad na lumayo ang babae)&lt;br /&gt;Hindi ako masamang tao.&lt;br /&gt;A, sa totoo lang, hindi ako tao.&lt;br /&gt;Anghel ako.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aatras si Zippora, mukhang inaasahan ang muling paglipad ng mga picture frames.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isang pintig ng katahimikan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LANA&lt;br /&gt;(pamatay ang titig)&lt;br /&gt;Uh-huh. Anghel?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tatango si Zippora.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LANA&lt;br /&gt;With matching wings and harp?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ZIPPORA&lt;br /&gt;Walang pakpak ang mga anghel.&lt;br /&gt;At hindi pa ako nakakahawak ng harp.&lt;br /&gt;Nabanggit lang sa’kin ‘yon&lt;br /&gt;dahil sa pinag-aaralan&lt;br /&gt;ng ibang anghel ang mga gawain ng mga tao.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LANA&lt;br /&gt;Pinag… aaralan?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ZIPPORA&lt;br /&gt;May sektor, kumbaga, ng mga anghel&lt;br /&gt;na ito ang trabaho.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LANA&lt;br /&gt;Sek…tor? At, let me guess,&lt;br /&gt;kasama ka sa sektor na ‘to?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ZIPPORA&lt;br /&gt;A, hindi. Sa musika ang trabaho ko.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LANA&lt;br /&gt;Pero hindi ka pa nakakahawak ng harp?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ZIPPORA&lt;br /&gt;(naiinis)&lt;br /&gt;Boses lang namin, musika na.&lt;br /&gt;Sino ba kasi nagdidikta na dapat may harp kami?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LANA&lt;br /&gt;At sino ba kasi nagdikta na mag-tresspass ka?&lt;br /&gt;Kung hindi ka sa sektor na nag-aaral tungkol sa mga tao,&lt;br /&gt;anong ginagawa mo dito?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aatras muli si Zippora at mukhang matatameme.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ZIPPORA&lt;br /&gt;(halatang naghahanap ng masasabi)&lt;br /&gt;Ah… kasi… di ba, sa sektor ako ng musika…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mahahalata nating may kumuha sa atensyon ng mata ni Zippora. CLOSE SHOT sa flute na tanging natitira sa ibabaw ng drawer ni Lana.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ZIPPORA&lt;br /&gt;Bumaba ako sa langit para matutong tumugtog ng flute!&lt;br /&gt;(nauutal)&lt;br /&gt;… Gusto ko kasing may maibigay&lt;br /&gt;na bagong uri ng musika sa langit.&lt;br /&gt;At, siyempre, matututunan ko lang ‘tong mabuti&lt;br /&gt;mula sa mga nilalang na gumawa nito.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isang pintig ulit ng katahimikan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hahablutin ni Lana ang flute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LANA&lt;br /&gt;O, ayan! Mawala ka lang, sa’yo na ‘yan!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ihahagis ni Lana ang flute. Hindi nito tatamaan si Zippora. Kasi, imbes na tamaan, tumagos ito sa katawan ni Zippora at tumama sa dingding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mamamangha si Lana, pati na rin si Zippora. Pintig ng katahimikan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LANA (cont.)&lt;br /&gt;(bubuksan ang pintuan ng kwarto niya at pipikit)&lt;br /&gt;Panaginip lang ang lahat ng ito.&lt;br /&gt;Hindi ako aalis sa pwestong ito&lt;br /&gt;hanggang ‘di ka umaalis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nasa mukha na ni Zippora ang pagsuko. Maglalakad siya patungo sa bukas na pintuan. Nang sumilip si Lana sa pagbukas ng isang mata, hindi dumaan si Zippora sa pintuan kundi lumusot sa dingding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isasara ni Lana ang pintuan, ang flute lang ang pupulutin at ibabalik sa ibabaw ng drawer, tutungo sa kama at magtatalukbong ng kumot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                 DISSOLVE TO&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SEQUENCE 11: KWARTO NI LANA/ UMAGA/ INT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mula sa bintana, makikita ang sinag ng araw. Magulo pa rin ang kwarto dahil sa mga initsang picture frames. Gigising na si Lana at mag-uunat. Sa kanyang paglingon sa direksyon ng drawer, makakakita siya ng mga daliring lumulusot at tumatagos sa flute. Si Zippora ang nagmamay-ari ng kamay. CLOSE SHOT sa kanyang mukha na parang nagtatae dahil sa pag-concentrate upang mahawakan ang flute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unang hihiyaw si Lana at dahil sa gulat, mapapahiyaw din si Zippora.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ZIPPORA&lt;br /&gt;Please, please, wag mo akong palayasin.&lt;br /&gt;Besides, masasayang lang din pagod mo&lt;br /&gt;kung babatuhin mo ako ng mga gamit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Magkakandarapa si Lana palayo sa kama. Siya naman ngayon ang mapapadpad sa sulok ng kwarto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ZIPPORA (cont.)&lt;br /&gt;Naku, please wag ka iiyak!&lt;br /&gt;Hindi naman talaga ako masama e.&lt;br /&gt;Wala lang talaga akong mapuntahan…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                     CUT TO&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;INSERT SEQUENCE: KALSADA/ GABI/ EXT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tahimik na gabi. Makikita nating bagot na bagot si Zippora na naglalakad, dire-diretso lang sa lahat ng puno o bagay na madaanan dahil tumatagos lang naman siya sa lahat ng dinadaanan niya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May isang mamang lasing na daraan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ZIPPORA&lt;br /&gt;Excuse me po.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hindi siya papansinin ng mama. Naiinis, magpapatuloy pa rin siyang maglakad hanggang sa may makasalubong na mag-kasintahang nagho-holding hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ZIPPORA&lt;br /&gt;Magandang gabi, pwedeng—&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lulusot lang ang mag-kasintahan sa kanya nang walang napapansin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ZIPPORA&lt;br /&gt;(sisigaw na parang nababaliw)&lt;br /&gt;Hello! Hoy!&lt;br /&gt;(tatalon)&lt;br /&gt;Hoooooy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Titigil siya sa pagtalon. Katahimikan lang ang sumagot sa kanya. Maglalakad na naman ulit sana siya nang mapansin niyang may pusa, mula sa likod ng isang malapit na puno, na mukhang nakatingin sa kanya. Lilingon siya sa likod pero walang ibang nandoon. Lalapitan niya ang pusa. Tatakbo paalis ang pusa pero titigil din ito sa hindi malayong puno, hihintayin ang gagawin ni Zippora.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ZIPPORA&lt;br /&gt;(malambing)&lt;br /&gt;Ming! Halika dito. Meoooow!&lt;br /&gt;Meooooow…Sige na, maawa ka.&lt;br /&gt;… Sige na, ikaw na nga lang&lt;br /&gt;ang nakakakita sa’kin e.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dahan-dahan din namang lalapit sa kanya ang pusa. Pero nang hahawakan niya ang ulo ng pusa, lumusot lang ang kanyang kamay sa ulo nito.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Magbubuntong-hininga siya sa inis. Maglalakad siya muli, hihinga ulit nang napakalalim at sisipa ng madadaanang bato. Mukhang hindi ito namalayan ni Zippora. CLOSE SHOT sa gumugulong na bato. Ilang hakbang pa bago tumigil si Zippora. Babalikan niya ang bato at excited na sisipain ito pero lulusot lang ang paa niya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                     CUT TO&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SEQUENCE 11: KWARTO NI LANA/ UMAGA/ INT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mula sa kama, takot pa ring nakatitig si Lana sa nakatayong Zippora.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ZIPPORA&lt;br /&gt;Pero nagawa ko!&lt;br /&gt;Kung gugustuhin ko at pag-iigihan,&lt;br /&gt;hindi lang paa ko ang makakakonek&lt;br /&gt;sa mundo mo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pintig ng katahimikan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ZIPPORA (cont.)&lt;br /&gt;Napulot ko rin ‘yong bato kahit ilang segundo&lt;br /&gt;pero kahit anong concentrate ko,&lt;br /&gt;hayop lang ang nakakakita sa’kin.&lt;br /&gt;Kaya bumalik ako dito.&lt;br /&gt;Hindi ko alam kung bakit pero maliwanag naman&lt;br /&gt;na nakikita mo ako e.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Katahimikan muli at pagkatapos, hihiyaw si Lana. Ilang segundo bago bumukas ang pintuan at makikita natin ang tita ni Lana.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TITA NI LANA&lt;br /&gt;Anong nangyari?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ituturo ni Lana si Zippora.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TITA NI LANA (cont.)&lt;br /&gt;Ha? Ano?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mula sa likod ng tita niya, makikita nating dumating na rin si Princess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PRINCESS&lt;br /&gt;A, kagabi pa nga niya kausap&lt;br /&gt;ang imaginary friend niya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TITA NI LANA&lt;br /&gt;(nakasimangot)&lt;br /&gt;Lana?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                 SMASH CUT TO&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SEQUENCE 12: PAARALAN – HALLWAY/ TANGHALI/ INT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Naglalakad si Lana, hindi na mukhang gustong magtago kundi nakasimangot, sa loob ng hallway at humahabol na nakabuntot sa kanya si Zippora.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ZIPPORA&lt;br /&gt;(mabilis)&lt;br /&gt;Alam mo ba, sa langit ng mga anghel,&lt;br /&gt;mahigpit ang schedule.&lt;br /&gt;Kailangan kasi, tuloy-tuloy ang mga gawain ng mga sektor&lt;br /&gt;kaya tondo bantay ang mga superiors namin.&lt;br /&gt;Paulit-ulit nga lang.&lt;br /&gt;Walang umaga o gabi doon e.&lt;br /&gt;Hindi naman pwedeng lumipat sa ibang sektor.&lt;br /&gt;(malungkot na hihinto)&lt;br /&gt;Pero ayos lang, masaya naman.&lt;br /&gt;Kasi ‘di ba, mahilig ako sa musika&lt;br /&gt;kaya bakit ako magrereklamo?&lt;br /&gt;Pero nakakainis lang kasi, alam mo ‘yon,&lt;br /&gt;konting suhesyon lang naman,&lt;br /&gt;tungkol naman sa musika, ayaw pa rin—&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Halatang pinigilan ang sarili sa pagsasalita. Mapapatingin kay Lana na wala namang pakialam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ZIPPORA (cont.)&lt;br /&gt;Este, kaya maswerte talaga kayo dito.&lt;br /&gt;Araw-araw, madami at iba-iba ang nagagawa niyo.&lt;br /&gt;Napakarami niyong naiimbento at nalalaman.&lt;br /&gt;Nagbabasa ka ng mga libro,&lt;br /&gt;sumusulat, marunong sa flute.&lt;br /&gt;Kami, kung musika sektor mo, musika ka.&lt;br /&gt;Tapos! Kayo, maraming pwedeng pagpiliang gawin&lt;br /&gt;at pwede niyo ‘tong gawin. Hindi tulad—&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May kamay na hahatak kay Lana.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PRINCESS&lt;br /&gt;Dala mo baon mo?&lt;br /&gt;Wala na akong pera at naiwan ko ‘yong sa’kin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LANA&lt;br /&gt;(halos nagpapasalamat)&lt;br /&gt;Princess!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PRINCESS&lt;br /&gt;Ba’t mukha kang timang?... Baon mo?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Malilipat nang kaunti ang atensyon ni Princess ng may mga lalaking dumaraan at bumabati. Pagkatapos ng kanyang fans club, itutuon niya ulit ang atensyon niya sa kanyang pinsan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pwepwesto sa likod ni Princess si Zippora, halatang hindi natutuwa kay Princess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LANA&lt;br /&gt;(hahalungkatin ang bag)&lt;br /&gt;Ipinaalala ko naman sa’yo kanina ‘yong baon mo.&lt;br /&gt;Nauubusan kasi ako ng allowance&lt;br /&gt;kakabili sa canteen dahil naiiwan mo ‘yon sa’yo.&lt;br /&gt;Kaya…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Titignan ni Lana si Princess. Mataray ang tingin nito at naghihintay ang kamay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ZIPPORA&lt;br /&gt;Lana, ang ginagawa dapat&lt;br /&gt;sa mga taong ganito ay…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Babatukan niya si Princess pero lulusot lang ang kamay niya dito. Susubukan ulit ‘to ni Zippora habang inaabot na ni Lana ang baon niya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ZIPPORA (cont.)&lt;br /&gt;Mali, mali! Bakit mo binibigay baon mo&lt;br /&gt;dahil lang sinabi niya?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Naiinis, isang malaking bwelo nang pambabatok ang ibibigay ni Zippora kay Princess, pero lulusot lang ang kanyang kamay. Hindi naman ito nasayang dahil tumama ito, sa wakas, sa baunan. Tatalsik ang baunang kanina’y hawak ni Princess. Ngingiti si Zippora sa kanyang munting tagumpay. CLOSE SHOT sa naguguluhang mukha ni Princess. Susubukan niyang pulutin ang baunan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lalayo ang baunan sa kanya. Lalapitan niya ulit ‘to pero mag-isang lumalayo ang baunan sa kanya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANGLE ON Zippora, nakikita na natin siya at sinisipa pala niya ang baunan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nagsisitawanan na ang mga tao kay Princess. Hindi nila nakikita si Zippora kundi si Princess lang na naghahabol sa isang baunan. Makikita nating darating si Grace sa grupo ng mga taong naghahagikgikan at siyempre, siya ang pinakamalakas na tatawa. Sa kanyang pagtawa, tsaka lang mapapansin ni Princess ang kanyang ginagawa. Lalapit si Grace at pupulutin niya ang baunan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GRACE&lt;br /&gt;Salamat sa libreng pagkain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Napahiya, tatayo nang tuwid si Princess at mag-aayos ng kung ano sa kanyang damit. Makikita nating nasa pagitan pala ni Princess at Grace si Zippora. Isa pang mapapansin natin ay mapapatingin si Grace, nakangisi, kay Zippora. Mapapatingin din si Zippora sa kanya. Ibubuka ni Zippora ang bibig, halatang magtatanong pero DADAAN SA FRAME si Princess na mahigpit na hatak-hatak si Lana. Makakalimutan na muna ng anghel si Grace at magmamadaling susundan si Lana na nahatak paloob ng CR.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                     CUT TO&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SEQUENCE 13: PAARALAN – CR/ TANGHALI/ INT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Walang ibang tao sa CR. Bibitawan ni Princess ang mahigpit niyang kapit kay Lana. Mula sa dingding naman manggagaling si Zippora.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PRINCESS&lt;br /&gt;(kalmadong galit)&lt;br /&gt;Alam mo, kung gano’n pala ang galit mo sa’kin&lt;br /&gt;dahil kinukuha ko ang baon mo,&lt;br /&gt;sana sinabi mo, hindi mo na’ko pinahiya ng gano’n.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ZIPPORA&lt;br /&gt;Talaga lang?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LANA&lt;br /&gt;W-wala akong ginawa…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PRINCESS&lt;br /&gt;Ilang beses nang pinagdudukdukan&lt;br /&gt;ni Mommy na matalino ka&lt;br /&gt;kaya sigurado akong nagawan mo ‘yon ng paraan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LANA&lt;br /&gt;Ha? Pa’no ko naman… Princess…&lt;br /&gt;(magbubuntong-hininga&lt;br /&gt;at may kukuning folder sa bag)&lt;br /&gt;Nakalimutan mo ‘yong report mo sa’kin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ZIPPORA&lt;br /&gt;Teka, teka. Report niya?&lt;br /&gt;Sigurado ka do’n?&lt;br /&gt;Lana, nakilala mo na ba ang salitang “cheating”?&lt;br /&gt;Pandaraya? ‘Yon, baka mas malinaw.&lt;br /&gt;Mali, mali, mali kasi!&lt;br /&gt;Bakit ka ba nagpapa-alipin diyan? Sino ba siya?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LANA&lt;br /&gt;(pipikit at pagkadilat, mapapasigaw)&lt;br /&gt;Pinsan ko! Okay? Pinsan ko!&lt;br /&gt;Kaya tumahimik ka na lang diyan at hayaan mong&lt;br /&gt;tulungan ko ang pinsan ko!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Katahimikan. Mapapatitig si Princess kay Lana.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PRINCESS&lt;br /&gt;(lalapit at hahawakan ang report na hawak ni Lana)&lt;br /&gt;Alam mo, kailangan mo&lt;br /&gt;na talagang lumabas sa lungga mo&lt;br /&gt;at maghanap nang kahit isang kaibigan lang.&lt;br /&gt;Ayon sa isang magazine,&lt;br /&gt;pwede kang mapadala sa mental hospital&lt;br /&gt;dahil lang sa wala kang emotional support system.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LANA&lt;br /&gt;H-hindi ba dahil sa stress?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CLOSE SHOT sa apat na kamay na may hawak-hawak ng report. Madadagdagan pa ito ng dalawa na pagmamay-ari ni Zippora.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Magtititigan si Zippora at Lana.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PRINCESS&lt;br /&gt;Lana! Schizo ka ba talaga?&lt;br /&gt;Akin na!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mahigpit na hahawakan ‘to ni Zippora.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LANA&lt;br /&gt;Zippora! Wag ako ang pag-praktisan mo&lt;br /&gt;sa kapangyarihan mong makahawak ng mga bagay!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PRINCESS&lt;br /&gt;Zi… what?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ZIPPORA&lt;br /&gt;Para ‘to sa kabutihan mo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mahahatak ito ni Zippora mula sa mga kamay ng mag-pinsan. Kaya lang, sa gitna ng buwelo nang paghatak, mawawalan na rin siya ng kapit sa folder. CLOSE SHOT sa lumusot na mga daliri sa folder, na kanina lamang ay mahigpit na nakakapit dito. Tatalsik ang folder patungo sa inodoro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PRINCESS&lt;br /&gt;Ano na naman ang ginawa mo?!&lt;br /&gt;Naiinggit ka sa’kin ‘no?&lt;br /&gt;Hindi porke baliw ka at walang kaibigan,&lt;br /&gt;gagawin mo na ‘to sa’kin!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May papasok na GURO, matandang babae na may ibang uniform.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PRINCESS (cont.)&lt;br /&gt;Kailangan kong may i-report sa susunod kong klase!&lt;br /&gt;Bili! May limang minuto ka pa.&lt;br /&gt;Gawan mo ng paraan!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Malakas na maglilinis ng lalamunan ang guro. Siyempre, mapapatingin silang lahat sa kanya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;GURO&lt;br /&gt;Princess, come with me.&lt;br /&gt;Starting today,&lt;br /&gt;you’ll be helping in the library every afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;And you can forget about getting high grades&lt;br /&gt;in that class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Manggagalaiti sa galit si Princess, iitsahan ng huling masamang tingin si Lana at lalabas ng CR. Susundan na rin siya agad ng guro.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Magkakatinginan sila Zippora at Lana. Unang matatawa si Lana, at dahil dito, tatawa na rin si Zippora.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LANA&lt;br /&gt;Pasensya na… at salamat.&lt;br /&gt;At dahil mukhang hindi mo naman ako tatantanan,&lt;br /&gt;promise, mas magiging mabait na ako sa’yo…&lt;br /&gt;Pero, kung mangangako ka rin&lt;br /&gt;na magsasabi na ng totoo…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ZIPPORA&lt;br /&gt;Totoo namang anghel ako ha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LANA&lt;br /&gt;Uh-huh. At bumaba ka ng langit&lt;br /&gt;para matutong mag-flute?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ZIPPORA&lt;br /&gt;Medyo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                     CUT TO&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;INSERT SEQUENCE: LANGIT/ WALANG ORAS/ INT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Puti ang paligid at naglalakad si Zippora kasama ang isa pang ANGHEL, hindi mo rin malaman kung babae o lalaki. May muntik na maaapakan si Zippora na flute na nakatiwangwang.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANGHEL&lt;br /&gt;Modelo lang yan.&lt;br /&gt;Kopya ng plauta na meroon ang mga tao.&lt;br /&gt;Baka nahulog nung sektor na nag-aaral sa kanila.&lt;br /&gt;Ipapaalam ko lang sa mga bosing.&lt;br /&gt;Mauna ka na sa sektor natin.&lt;br /&gt;Patapos na ang break at malamang,&lt;br /&gt;marami na sa koro ang nandoon.&lt;br /&gt;Baka magreklamo na naman ang ibang sektor&lt;br /&gt;sa katahimikan. Siguradong hinahanap na&lt;br /&gt;ang mga boses natin ngayon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aalis na ang anghel at maiiwan si Zippora na inoobserbahan ang flute. Titingin siya sa kanan, pagkatapos sa kaliwa, at nang makitang walang ibang anghel, pupulutin niya ang flute. Bubugahan niya ng hangin ang dulo at tutunog ng isang nota ang flute. Excited na ngingiti si Zippora. Hihipan ulit siya at makakagawa ng mga walang koneksyon at sintunadong mga nota.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                     CUT TO&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SEQUENCE 13: PAARALAN – CR/ TANGHALI/ INT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nakaupo na si Lana sa tabi ng lababo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ZIPPORA&lt;br /&gt;Napag-uusapan sa langit ang mga tao&lt;br /&gt;at alam ko ang mga tungkol sa mga ginagawa niyong&lt;br /&gt;musical instruments.&lt;br /&gt;Pero hindi man maayos,&lt;br /&gt;no’n pa lang ako nakagawa ng musika&lt;br /&gt;na hindi lang boses ang gamit.&lt;br /&gt;Boses kasi namin ang musika ng langit.&lt;br /&gt;At ang mga kagamitan,&lt;br /&gt;ang mga instrumentong tulad ng flute,&lt;br /&gt;hindi ito pang-anghel. Ayon nga sa aking mga bosing,&lt;br /&gt;bakit pa kami maghahangad ng iba&lt;br /&gt;e ginawa naman ang boses namin&lt;br /&gt;para magbigay ng musika.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LANA&lt;br /&gt;Kinuha nila sa’yo ang flute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ZIPPORA&lt;br /&gt;(tatango)&lt;br /&gt;Puro kasi pagkanta e, ginusto ko lang&lt;br /&gt;na maiba ng kaunti.&lt;br /&gt;Naisip ko, sektor kami ng musika.&lt;br /&gt;Anong masama kung gumamit ako ang flute&lt;br /&gt;e isang uri rin naman ito ng musika, ‘di ba?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LANA&lt;br /&gt;Kaya binalak mong nakawin ang flute?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ZIPPORA&lt;br /&gt;Hindi a! Hindi pagnanakaw ‘yon!&lt;br /&gt;… Hihiramin ko lang sandali dahil musika rin ‘yon!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                     CUT TO&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;INSERT SEQUENCE: LANGIT/ WALANG ORAS/ INT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Puti pa rin ang paligid. Maraming kaharap si Zippora na maliliit na pintuan at isa-isa niyang binubuksan ito at puro puting kwarto lang ang laman. Pero mayroon siyang isang kwarto na makikita na punong-puno ng mga lumulutang na parang crystal ball na nagpapakita ng iba’t-ibang eksena ng mga buhay ng mga tao. Sa dulong gitna ng kwarto ay isang mesa, may nakapatong ditong susi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ZIPPORA (VO)&lt;br /&gt;Hinahanap ko lang naman ang flute,&lt;br /&gt;pero iba nga ang napuntahan ko.&lt;br /&gt;Sektor ‘ata ‘yon ng mga anghel&lt;br /&gt;na nagbibigay ng mensahe sa iba’t-ibang mundo.&lt;br /&gt;Alam kong mayroon silang gamit na&lt;br /&gt;Susi ng Lahat ng Mundo.&lt;br /&gt;Hindi mo kailangan maging matalinong anghel&lt;br /&gt;para malamang ‘yon na ang susing ‘yon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nagmadali niyang kinuha ang susi at tumakbo palabas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                     CUT TO&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SEQUENCE 13: PAARALAN – CR/ TANGHALI/ INT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May papasok na estudyante at makikita niya lang si Lana na naka-upo sa may lababo at tumatango-tango sa sarili. Magdadalawang-isip ang estudyante sa paglapit sa kanya at lalabas na lang ito ng CR.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ZIPPORA&lt;br /&gt;Spur of the moment.&lt;br /&gt;Sa isang segundo, naisip ko na baka,&lt;br /&gt;sa ibang mundo, hindi ako kailangang utusan&lt;br /&gt;at diktahan kung pa’no gumawa ng musika.&lt;br /&gt;O mas simple, makakatugtog na’ko ng flute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LANA&lt;br /&gt;Well, kung sa sixteen years din ng buhay ko,&lt;br /&gt;puro pagkanta lang ako,&lt;br /&gt;gugustuhin ko talagang mag-flute…&lt;br /&gt;Pero kung tumakas ka lang…&lt;br /&gt;malamang may naghahanap na sa’yo?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ZIPPORA&lt;br /&gt;(tatango)&lt;br /&gt;Dinya. Isang anghel na ang trabaho,&lt;br /&gt;panatilihing nasa pwesto ang lahat ng bagay&lt;br /&gt;o panatiliing normal ang lahat ng mundo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LANA&lt;br /&gt;Kamukha mo rin?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saktong may papasok, mula sa dinding, na isang naka-blue na nilalang na hindi malaman kung babae o lalaki.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ZIPPORA&lt;br /&gt;Kamukha niya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tatakbo palusot sa dingding si Zippora at hahabulin siya ng Dinya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                     BLACK OUT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4744826632513583994-3499222689460866732?l=paperpins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/feeds/3499222689460866732/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4744826632513583994&amp;postID=3499222689460866732' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/3499222689460866732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/3499222689460866732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/2009/01/zippora.html' title='Zippora'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818546965720884854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SeHa0VJIMiI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Vse5D3-f8yc/S220/RSCN8087.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4744826632513583994.post-3416288554187772988</id><published>2008-12-08T02:31:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T02:56:50.755+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fic'/><title type='text'>Fill In The Blank(s): Parenthesis</title><content type='html'>Ang pag-ibig ay hindi&lt;br /&gt;buwan&lt;br /&gt;ay hindi araw&lt;br /&gt;hindi bituin&lt;br /&gt;hindi langit&lt;br /&gt;hindi impyerno&lt;br /&gt;hindi pera&lt;br /&gt;hindi susi&lt;br /&gt;hindi pangtutuli&lt;br /&gt;fishball&lt;br /&gt;bolpen&lt;br /&gt;lapis&lt;br /&gt;libro&lt;br /&gt;windchime&lt;br /&gt;cellphone&lt;br /&gt;kurtina&lt;br /&gt;stuff toy&lt;br /&gt;basurahan&lt;br /&gt;mga laman sa kwarto ko&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hindi bayan&lt;br /&gt;mamamayan&lt;br /&gt;Diyos&lt;br /&gt;ang paring mestiso&lt;br /&gt;ang putang nagrorosaryo&lt;br /&gt;ang callboy sa kanto&lt;br /&gt;si Bonifacio&lt;br /&gt;pusang naghihingalo&lt;br /&gt;(katabi ng batang nilalangaw&lt;br /&gt;sa loob ng cardboard box)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ang pag-ibig ay hindi&lt;br /&gt;bulaklak&lt;br /&gt;ay hindi halimuyak&lt;br /&gt;hindi oda&lt;br /&gt;hindi usok ng sigarilyo&lt;br /&gt;hindi luha&lt;br /&gt;hindi ngiti&lt;br /&gt;hindi katahimikan&lt;br /&gt;sa bawat patlang ng pag-uusap&lt;br /&gt;sa pagitan ng babae at lalaki&lt;br /&gt;babae at babae&lt;br /&gt;lalaki at lalaki&lt;br /&gt;transvestite at ng kanyang propesor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hindi ikaw&lt;br /&gt;hindi ako&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ang pag-ibig ay palagi&lt;br /&gt;lamang&lt;br /&gt;kinakahon sa mga salitang&lt;br /&gt;sinusubukang&lt;br /&gt;(nabibigong)&lt;br /&gt;kinakain&lt;br /&gt;ang kawalang kahulugan&lt;br /&gt;ng kapangyarihang&lt;br /&gt;bumabalot&lt;br /&gt;(nagpapalibog&lt;br /&gt;nagpapabaliw&lt;br /&gt;nagpapaluha&lt;br /&gt;nagpapatawa&lt;br /&gt;nagpapa-ihi&lt;br /&gt;nagpapatalon&lt;br /&gt;nagpapapatay&lt;br /&gt;etcetera&lt;br /&gt;etcetera&lt;br /&gt;etcetera)&lt;br /&gt;sa mga kahon&lt;br /&gt;ng mga ulol&lt;br /&gt;na tulad kong nangingisda&lt;br /&gt;sa bukana ng bulkan&lt;br /&gt;sa hangin&lt;br /&gt;sa ulap&lt;br /&gt;sa sangkatalaan&lt;br /&gt;sa laman ng kwarto ko&lt;br /&gt;sa mga patlang ng mga pangungusap&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sa&lt;br /&gt;(hindi ko sasabihing&lt;br /&gt;ikaw&lt;br /&gt;ako)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4744826632513583994-3416288554187772988?l=paperpins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/feeds/3416288554187772988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4744826632513583994&amp;postID=3416288554187772988' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/3416288554187772988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/3416288554187772988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/2008/12/fill-in-blanks-parenthesis.html' title='Fill In The Blank(s): Parenthesis'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818546965720884854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SeHa0VJIMiI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Vse5D3-f8yc/S220/RSCN8087.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4744826632513583994.post-3927398958211843298</id><published>2008-10-30T19:39:00.054+08:00</published><updated>2008-10-31T12:18:43.552+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='burgis'/><title type='text'>Nanaginip Ako Ng Anino</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Why are you scared to dream of god&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; When it’s salvation that you want?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;- We Are&lt;a href="http://bulatlat.com/main/2008/10/12/melankolia-ng-gitnang-uri/"&gt; Nowhere&lt;/a&gt; and It's Now, Bright Eyes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I tried to live alone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But lonely is so lonely alone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;So human as I am&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I have to give up my defenses&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;So I smile and try to mean it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;To make myself let go&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;- Any Other World, Mika&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Matagal na ang panahong nakalipas bago ulit ako makipag-away ng dahil sa Diyos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kasama lang namang ang isang aspektong ito---ang artikulasyon ng mga paniniwala---sa sandamukal na aspektong sinusubukan kong bitawan para hindi na muling bumalik sa panahong kaunting kalabit lang ay nanaisin ko ng magpatiwakal. Natatakot ako, na kapag lumangoy ulit ako sa repleksyon ng sarili, walang mangyayari katulad ng dati. Hahantong lang ito sa pagkamuhi sapagkat una, indecisive ako at hindi ako naniniwala sa konklusyon. Pangalawa, ako talaga ay dapat kamuhian.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kaya selective amnesia ang naging tanging sagot. Subalit nandiyan na rin naman ang keyword, hindi ba? Selective. Pipiliin ko kung anong ibabaon ko sa pinakasuluk-sulukan nang utak na walang kinakalimutan. At dahil walang kinakalimutan ang utak, lahat ng katotohanan ay hawak-hawak niya. Hihintayin matapos ang tik-tak at--- &lt;a href="http://www.inthesetimes.com/article/3848/why_soldiers_rape/"&gt;BOOM&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Magtatalsikan ang pag-aaway. Mga walang lohikang argumento: Basta. Basta naiinis lang ako. Basta hindi iyan ang Diyos. Basta hindi kita maintindihan. Basta hindi iyan totoo.  Basta hindi ko maipaliwanag. Hindi ko nga rin maintindihan ang sarili ko e. Hindi mo naman dapat nalaman ang opinyon ko. Marami nga kasing hindi dapat malaman tungkol sa'kin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nakaupo ako noon sa lapag, umiiyak ng dahil sa takot at dahil sa nagri-ring na naman ang telepono. Nakipaghiwalay ako sa una kong karelasyon kaya isipin na lang na maliban sa lungkot na nararamdaman ko noon, nandiyan din ang galit at pandidiri sa sarili. &lt;a href="http://www.mensstudies.org/history.html"&gt;Babae&lt;/a&gt; kasi ang karelasyon ko. Hindi na siguro ganoon kasikat ngayon pero kung papalakihin ang isang bata sa isang tahanan na hindi lang naniniwala sa the-family-that-prays-together-stays-together kundi talagang ginagawa ito, malamang sa malamang, iisipin ng bata na demonyo siya dahil sa mga pinaggagagawa niya sa kanyang kapwa babae.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kaya sobra ang takot ko. Mayroon kasing posibilidad na ipagkalat niya (na nangyari naman sa eskwelahan) ang lahat ng nangyari sa'min. Wala pa akong konsepto ng pagpapakamatay noon, pero kung pagkakatiwalaan ang alaala, doon siguro ako nagsimulang maging marahas sa sarili. Sa mga huling buwan ng nakasama ko siya, wala akong ibang gustong gawin kundi magtago sa kama, suntukin ang pader---at hugutin ang puke ko.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Malamang, walang may alam na naka-fetus posisyon ako noon. 'Yong tipong umuuga-uga, yakap-yakap ang tuhod. Kahit 'yong mga malalapit kong kaibigan, hindi ko pa mapagbuntungan ng mga panahong iyon. Takot din akong malaman nila ang bigat ng epekto ng pagsto-stalk na nangyayari dahil takot akong malaman nila ang mas malalim na dahilan ng pandidiri ko sa sarili.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kanino pa ba ako lalapit 'di ba? Kaya nandoon ako, niyayakap ang sarili at &lt;a href="http://aklas.blogsome.com/2006/09/07/ang-kahulugan-ng-urbanismo-ay-city-planning/"&gt;bumubulong&lt;/a&gt; sa hangin sa paniniwalang galit sa akin ang Diyos pero sana kaawaan na niya ako at tulungan na mawala ang hinayupak na tumatawag sa'kin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mga isang taon (o mahigit?) naging ganoon ang sitwasyon. At kahit wala na, hindi rin naman makakatakas sa multo nito. Kung "bestfriend Jesus" ko ang Diyos noong elementarya, halos mag-ala-Mary Magdalene ako sa pagkapit ko sa damit ng Aking Panginoon sa pagsisimba, pagrorosaryo, at pagpapatuloy na pakikipag-debate/usap sa kahit kaninong may ganang magkaroon ng diskusyon tungkol sa mga relihiyon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kinailangan kong buhayin ang Diyos. Pero patuloy niyang pinapatay ang sarili niya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Noon natatawa ako sa mga taong tumitigil sa kanilang mga relihiyosong paniniwala dahil lang sa may nagkasakit o namatay. Kasi nagagalit sila sa Diyos nila. Kaya pinapatay nila ang Diyos nila. Pero hindi nila &lt;a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-471324/Sex-motherland-Russian-youths-encouraged-procreate-camp.html"&gt;magawa-gawa&lt;/a&gt; 'yon dahil galit na galit pa rin sila sa Diyos na hinayaang magkasakit o mamatay ang mga mahal nila sa buhay. Ang nangyayari, patuloy pa rin ang pag-iral ng kanilang mga Diyos. Siyempre, magka-away na nga lang sila.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Noon pa man kasi, baluktot na ang ilusyon ko sa kabaitan ng Diyos. Kaya wala akong ekspektasyon sa kanyang kabaitan para sa'kin. Kaugnay siguro nito ang internalisasyon ko ng pagkamuhi sa sarili. Wala kasi akong kwenta kumpara sa &lt;a href="http://www.inthesetimes.com/article/146/"&gt;Diyos ko&lt;/a&gt;, 'di ba? Kung gayon, kailangan ko siyang kulitin ng kulitin para ipagkaloob niya sa akin ang kanyang kabutihan. Sa aking pangungulit, nabubuhay siya. Sa aking mga ritwal, nabubuhay siya. Sa aking mga gawain, nililigtas niya ako. Pero hindi naman niya ako maliligtas kung wala akong pangungulit, ritwal, mga gawain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isipin na lamang ang unang beses na naging malay ako dito---na may responsibilidad ako sa buhay ng isang Diyos na siya lang naman makakapagligtas sa'kin---'yong takot na naramdaman ko habang naka-fetus position? Parang bula, kumpara sa kaguluhang dinanas ko sa artikulasasyon ng relihiyosong paniniwala. Nawala na nang tuluyan ang safety net ko. Ako pala kasi talaga ang safety net ng Diyos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ano ngayon ang ginagawa ko sa katotohanang ito? Selective amnesia. Keyword: &lt;a href="http://jacketmagazine.com/29/schuy-lett.html"&gt;selective&lt;/a&gt;. Dahil hindi ko magawa-gawa ang patayin ang Diyos, siya na ang gumagawa nito. Bawat segundo, pinapatay niya ang sarili niya. Bawat segundo na hindi nagiging sapat ang aking mga pangungulit, ritwal, at mga gawain para panatiliin siyang buhay, iyon ang bawat segundo na pinapatay niya ang sarili niya. Sa aking pagbaon sa kanya sa kasuluk-sulukan ng utak, umaasa akong kahit multo man lang niya, maitatago ko.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kaya humihingi ako ng tawad dahil sa lahat pa ng maaaring masabugan ng kanyang multo, ikaw pa, ang aking bagong safety net ang inatake, kasabay ng pag-atake ng aking &lt;a href="http://www.logosjournal.com/issue_6.1-2/williams.htm"&gt;multo&lt;/a&gt; sa iyong Diyos. Humihingi ako ng tawad kasi kailangan ko pa rin ang aking lumang safety net---kahit multo lang, kahit maaari siyang magpumilit na sumabog palabas ng aking utak.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marahil nandito ka na ngayon dahil kumakapit din ako sa'yo, dahil ayokong nag-iisa, dahil binubuhay din kita. Pero may mga bagay na hindi dapat bitawan dahil sa simpleng rason---kailangan ko pa ang multo ng Diyos dahil sa simpleng rason---mahal ko siya.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4744826632513583994-3927398958211843298?l=paperpins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/feeds/3927398958211843298/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4744826632513583994&amp;postID=3927398958211843298' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/3927398958211843298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/3927398958211843298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/2008/10/nanaginip-ako-ng-anino.html' title='Nanaginip Ako Ng Anino'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818546965720884854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SeHa0VJIMiI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Vse5D3-f8yc/S220/RSCN8087.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4744826632513583994.post-7181329823202007294</id><published>2008-09-29T03:05:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2008-09-30T08:10:34.721+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='burgis'/><title type='text'>Nostalgia (Or Staring at the Pavement for Too Long)</title><content type='html'>What &lt;a href="http://www.xanga.com/moritheil/510119861/light-light-heavy.html"&gt;differentiates &lt;/a&gt;the shadow &lt;a href="http://www.democracynow.org/2008/3/11/everybody_in_the_world_except_us"&gt;from&lt;/a&gt; the ghost?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ghost: &lt;a href="http://www.lrb.co.uk/v25/n20/eagl01_.html"&gt;you&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.xanga.com/moritheil/595099434/die-a-thousand-deaths.html"&gt;escape&lt;/a&gt; it by leaving the &lt;a href="http://www.emedicinehealth.com/home_pregnancy_test/article_em.htm"&gt;haunted &lt;/a&gt;house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shadow: you escape it by &lt;a href="http://www.livescience.com/health/071220-medical-myths.html"&gt;staying&lt;/a&gt; in the dark.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4744826632513583994-7181329823202007294?l=paperpins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/feeds/7181329823202007294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4744826632513583994&amp;postID=7181329823202007294' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/7181329823202007294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/7181329823202007294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/2008/09/nostalgia-or-staring-on-pavement-for.html' title='Nostalgia (Or Staring at the Pavement for Too Long)'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818546965720884854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SeHa0VJIMiI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Vse5D3-f8yc/S220/RSCN8087.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4744826632513583994.post-8021642584955595177</id><published>2008-09-21T23:16:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-09-21T23:26:08.881+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fic'/><title type='text'>Paglamon</title><content type='html'>I realized, after writing, that this is a plagiarized poem. One from vagina monologues and the other one, from a dagli by an orgmate. Haha. Ohwell. I am such a poser when it comes to being serious. :)&lt;br /&gt;---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Paglamon&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Sabi niya, gusto niya raw akong makilala&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Kailangan ko, sabi niya&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Hinalikan ng ilong niya&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Ang lamang&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Nanginginig&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Kasi ako&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Sabi niya, gusto niya raw akong kainin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Buksan mo, sabi niya&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Hinawakan niya ako&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Hinimas niya ang&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Nanginginig&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Kasi ang bawat tiklop&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Para bang gusto kong magtago&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Sa bawat tiklop&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Sabi ko, kilala mo na ako&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Nakain mo na ako&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Pero wala siyang narinig&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Patuloy siyang sumisid&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Nagtaasan ang balahibo ko sa kanyang paglalaro&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Para siyang batang nagtatampisaw&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Sa tabing-ilog&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Nagpapahamog&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;sa simoy ng hangin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;May hagikgik sa mga mata&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Kasabay ng lambot&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Ng pagmamasid ko&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Ako, ang bantay&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Ako&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Pinapanood ko siyang&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Hinehele sa pagtulog&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Ng simoy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Sa loob na&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Loob&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Ko&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Umagos ang pagyakap ko sa kanya&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Sumabog sa ere ang&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Lahat&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Hanggang umulan&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;At niyakap kaming dalawa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Ng aming mga inaantok na ngiti&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Tanong ko, kilala mo na ba ako?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Nakain mo na ba ako?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Sabi niya, gusto ko pa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Na makilala ka&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Kailangan ko pa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Na kainin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Ng nanginginig&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Mong laman&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Ang diwa natin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Hindi, ang diwa ko&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Hindi, ang diwa mo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Ikaw&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Ako&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Tayo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"&gt;Ako&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4744826632513583994-8021642584955595177?l=paperpins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/feeds/8021642584955595177/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4744826632513583994&amp;postID=8021642584955595177' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/8021642584955595177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/8021642584955595177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/2008/09/paglamon.html' title='Paglamon'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818546965720884854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SeHa0VJIMiI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Vse5D3-f8yc/S220/RSCN8087.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4744826632513583994.post-3076810066306540157</id><published>2008-09-15T06:56:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-09-15T06:59:43.727+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='starving artist'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='burgis'/><title type='text'>Kapag Wala Nang Mapag-usapan at Di Naman Makakanta ng Esem ng Yano</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Ako: Paano kung hindi na mahabol ang mga salita?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;Siya: Mauubusan na tayo ng mga tanong.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4744826632513583994-3076810066306540157?l=paperpins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/feeds/3076810066306540157/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4744826632513583994&amp;postID=3076810066306540157' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/3076810066306540157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/3076810066306540157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/2008/09/kapag-wala-nang-mapag-usapan-at-di.html' title='Kapag Wala Nang Mapag-usapan at Di Naman Makakanta ng Esem ng Yano'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818546965720884854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SeHa0VJIMiI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Vse5D3-f8yc/S220/RSCN8087.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4744826632513583994.post-1331580840960085567</id><published>2008-08-18T06:23:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-08-18T06:46:20.826+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fic'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='burgis'/><title type='text'>Vertigo of Oz</title><content type='html'>It was a silly activity in my Personality Psych class where we were supposed to write a story from these very vague picture cards. I was pretty sure that the class knew what it was about, y'know, analyzing the person through the story she creates from the picture cards, which probably doesn't apply on writing majors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, the class sure acted as if they didn't know we were going to exchange papers and try to bullshit our way into convincing ourselves we know how to personality assess. But whatev, I got this picture with a man on top of a spiraling image.... errr, yeah, that vertigo thingy. I was already out of time (we had to write four stories) so I just wrote away and I was giggling at myself so hard it was a good thing my professor doesn't know I exist (I sit between Bibo kid---love you, Sarah---and a Muslim kid---love you, Bim---so naturally, even though how many times I recite---twice---he still forgets that I exist. He's much much much more interested with my Muslim seatmate. And the MA students, the class clowns, and another Bibo kid from Journ, of course. Oh, that girl who had said she's a bitch and with the tone of her "uhuh" in every ending sentence I'm going to say she.... errr, I'm not one to judge. Haha.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the time I gave it to a classmate I'm not supposed to be friends with, I was grinning widely and bid her luck. She needed it. All of the stories mocked the whole activity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But anyway, I liked this one. It's the most far fetched from the four. And it does actually have metaphorical allusions. Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"&gt;Juan doesn't believe in the Wizard of Oz. He rightfully felt that it is a story perpetuated by the sexists to put women in place. It is about Dorothy's adventure that ends up having her go back home because women aren't supposed to dream "somewhere over the rainbow."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"&gt;That is, until, a tornado came and swept away Marikina City from the map. Marikina City for chrissakes! Bayani Fernando's much loved executioner of Metro Gwapo! Along with Juan, of all people! Why didn't he just go to that stupid rally against SONA? Why didn't he wake up early? Maybe then he didn't have to be in this dizzying mess.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"&gt;He felt the world slowing, the wind less hurtful, and then with a lound thump, he was thrown upon a small woman. Little people gathered around him shouting Mabubay! Mabuhay! They told him his world is now safe from the evil mole-woman. Juan asked the little people who they are. The Munchkins, of course, they replied. And since Juan was hungry, he ate the little people and walked down the yellow brick road.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"&gt;So when Dorothy finally killed the Wicked Witch of the West, she was surprised to come back and not see Munchkins partying but the dead Wicked Witch of the East and fat giant Juan thump, thump, thumping away and destroying the yellow brick road.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4744826632513583994-1331580840960085567?l=paperpins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/feeds/1331580840960085567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4744826632513583994&amp;postID=1331580840960085567' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/1331580840960085567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/1331580840960085567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/2008/08/vertigo-of-oz.html' title='Vertigo of Oz'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818546965720884854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SeHa0VJIMiI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Vse5D3-f8yc/S220/RSCN8087.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4744826632513583994.post-8731592220388356245</id><published>2008-07-11T10:34:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T19:08:35.946+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='women'/><title type='text'>Spread the Charity Virus</title><content type='html'>Where were you when I needed you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SHbHU0N4bcI/AAAAAAAAACA/PoB6RLP2Q9I/s1600-h/bohol.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SHbHU0N4bcI/AAAAAAAAACA/PoB6RLP2Q9I/s320/bohol.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221579978410847682" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Source: &lt;a href="http://uniffors.com"&gt;Uniffors&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4744826632513583994-8731592220388356245?l=paperpins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/feeds/8731592220388356245/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4744826632513583994&amp;postID=8731592220388356245' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/8731592220388356245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/8731592220388356245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/2008/07/spread-charity-virus.html' title='Spread the Charity Virus'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818546965720884854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SeHa0VJIMiI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Vse5D3-f8yc/S220/RSCN8087.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SHbHU0N4bcI/AAAAAAAAACA/PoB6RLP2Q9I/s72-c/bohol.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4744826632513583994.post-2203864630061574773</id><published>2008-07-08T16:21:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-07-08T16:44:13.919+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='byaheng dyipni'/><title type='text'>Harurot</title><content type='html'>Naka-earphones ako kaya hindi ko marinig si Manong Driver. Pero nakikita ko sa pamamagitan ng rear view mirror na galit siya at lubusan talaga ang pagbaluktot at pagkulot ng mukha. Hindi gumagalaw ang jeep. Dahil sa taxi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nilabas ni Manong Driver ang ulo niya at braso. Winagayway niya. Mamayamaya, dalawang braso na ang nakalabas. Winawagayway at pati ang ulo, nakikisama sa tigas ng pagwawala. Hindi ko makita kung anong ginagawa ng ulo at mga braso niya sa labas ng jeep pero sa isip ko, fina-fuck you sign na niya ang taxi. Yung katabi kong mukhang Koreano, natatawa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Umandar naman na ang taxi sa wakas. Kumadyot-kadyot ang jeep at pagkatapos, lumipad. Mukha pa ring demonyo si Manong sa rear view mirror at nagmamadali ang jeep. Yon pala, hinahabol niya ang punyetang taxi. Nasa katabing lane ang taxi at ang tanging nasa pagitan nila ng jeep ay ang mga tinanim na halaman sa gitna ng daan. Nilabas na naman ni Manong ang braso niya, bumubuka't sumasara ang bibig pero naka-earphones nga ako, wala pa ring marinig. Kahit na lumilipad, kumakadyot pa rin ang jeep. Y&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Malayo pa ang hihintuan ng jeep kaya naman inasahan ko nang babangga at sasabog kami.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hindi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kaya bumaba ako sa tapat ng Mini-Stop.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4744826632513583994-2203864630061574773?l=paperpins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/feeds/2203864630061574773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4744826632513583994&amp;postID=2203864630061574773' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/2203864630061574773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/2203864630061574773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/2008/07/harurot.html' title='Harurot'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818546965720884854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SeHa0VJIMiI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Vse5D3-f8yc/S220/RSCN8087.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4744826632513583994.post-4167428428791517100</id><published>2008-06-24T20:11:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-06-24T20:57:58.457+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='byaheng dyipni'/><title type='text'>Masturbation Leads to Insanity</title><content type='html'>She was normal, white, the yellowish white anyway. She had slits for eyes and was greeting people right and left. First she waved at the woman on the right, opposite our seat. The woman had artificial curled hair who didn't like to stretch out her hand to reach for her fare change. Then she noticed the girl on the left, still opposite our seat, and smiled. The girl, wearing a white and green uniform exclaimed a surprised yelp, smiled, and then almost shyly averted her eyes towards our feet. Or her feet. I wasn't sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I was distracted, thinking, "Hell you're popular. And white. And smell kind of nice."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another woman slowly climbed in the jeepney. She was a bit old. And she also knew the white lady beside me. They both giggled, yes, the old woman did, and both exclaimed a surprised nod.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was expecting more to come, and more to wave at my white lady. But the jeepney hurried on. And soon, we all found ourselves halted by the usual traffic. A great opportunity for anyone to get in. Probably greet the lady beside me too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And anyone did come. A boy. A kid. Thin, dirty, and handing out envelopes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"kuya/ate&lt;br /&gt;humihingi po ako ng tulong para makapag-aral.&lt;br /&gt;maraming salamat po."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't think about then who the hell thought of buying those white envelopes and exerting effort on writing on it just to beg for money. All I could think about was how I could give the envelope back just in time before I get off.  I thought about how I could tell the kid that I needed help for my studies too. I didn't have any change with me. I didn't even have allowance for the week. I tried to think of anything that would ease the usual turmoil inside my chest. I thought of killing The President. I also thought of killing myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I thought I was silly. Then I thought of laughing. I tried to suppress a giggle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The jeepney hurdled on and abruptly stopped. Everybody passed the envelopes towards the kid. My white lady took mine and passed it along with hers. I felt my lungs blew out.  Then I smelled her hair before I got off.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4744826632513583994-4167428428791517100?l=paperpins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/feeds/4167428428791517100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4744826632513583994&amp;postID=4167428428791517100' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/4167428428791517100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/4167428428791517100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/2008/06/masturbation-leads-to-insanity.html' title='Masturbation Leads to Insanity'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818546965720884854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SeHa0VJIMiI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Vse5D3-f8yc/S220/RSCN8087.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4744826632513583994.post-3644793183463750886</id><published>2008-06-01T16:47:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2008-06-01T17:31:58.247+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fic'/><title type='text'>Malagong Ulap</title><content type='html'>Isa itong writing exercise sa klase ko noon kay Sir Rene. Maximo Moment ang activity. Maghanap ng isang bagay na nagustuhan namin sa pelikulang Ang Pagdadalaga ni Maximo Oliveros at gawan ng akda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Walang pag-asa ang dagling 'to. Una, dahil depression year ko ito ginawa at pangalawa, cramming lang. Ibinase ko ito sa isang dagling ginawa ko tungkol sa taong pinanonood (at pinagnanasahan) ang mahal niyang nagma-marijuana. At dahil nga Maximo Moment, kailangan hindi masyadong libog ang pokus kundi puppy love. Pinahaba pa para punan ang isang pahina ng yellow pad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hindi ko na mahanap ang orihinal na dagli kaya ito na lang.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-----------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;Pinagmasdan niya ang pagdakot ng mga butil ng kanin. Binitbit ito at para bang napakarahang inabot ng bubukang bibig ang pagkain. Namangha siya sa bawat pagnguya at pagsayaw ng kanang pisnging matagal na niyang inaasam na hawakan. Pakiramdam niya, nakikita niya rin ang paggulong ng laman ng bibig sa lalamunang lumulunok at hindi niya malaman kung bakit siya namula ng pati ito ay napansin.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;May humatak na ngiti sa kanang dulo ng malalambot na labing kanyang sinasamba. Bumilis ang tibok ng kanyang puso sa nasaksihan. Una, sa galak at pangalawa, sa kaba. Nanginig ang kanyang mga daliri at tinanong ang kanyang sarili, "Alam niya kaya ang dahilan ng aking pagmamasid?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;At para bang sa pagsagot, sinalubong ang nagtatanong ng mga matang unang nagpahulog sa kanya noon. Gayundin ang nararamadaman niya sa puntong iyon, nahuhulog sa bagay na hindi niya kayang ipaliwanag. Hindi niya maipaliwanag ang takot na kasabay ng sayang dinudulot nito. Dahil kahit na nahuhulog, alam niyang lulutang pa rin siya at aabutin ang pagtigil ng pagtibok ng puso, ng kanyang kamatayan. Naglaho ang lahat sa isang segundong hindi niya makakalimutan, umukit sa kanyang isipan, umukit sa dibdib at sa magiging paliwanag niya sa kahulugan ng langit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;Babalik muli ang mga kaakit-akit na mga mata sa pagtuon nito sa kanyang mga butil ng kanin. Titingala naman siya sa malalagong ulap at magbubuntong-hininga. Lumipas agad ang sandali na parang walang nangyari.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;Wala naman talaga kasing nangyari.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;At babalik siya sa paghihintay. Babalik siya sa kanyang pagmamasid. At babalik siya sa kanyang mga panalanging papalayain siya muli upang maramdaman lang ang langit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4744826632513583994-3644793183463750886?l=paperpins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/feeds/3644793183463750886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4744826632513583994&amp;postID=3644793183463750886' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/3644793183463750886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/3644793183463750886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/2008/06/malagong-ulap.html' title='Malagong Ulap'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818546965720884854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SeHa0VJIMiI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Vse5D3-f8yc/S220/RSCN8087.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4744826632513583994.post-1146735675450525237</id><published>2008-05-15T13:31:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-15T13:34:39.353+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fic'/><title type='text'>Ganito kumawala ang aking isip.</title><content type='html'>Sa isang salita&lt;br /&gt;maaari nang mamatay ang lahat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ngunit sa pagkagat ng dila&lt;br /&gt;nandoon pa rin ang panganib&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kaya naiipit ako&lt;br /&gt;sa pagnanasang tumakbo&lt;br /&gt;(habulin ang mga letrang iaalay sa'yo&lt;br /&gt;mga letrang huhuli sa'yo)&lt;br /&gt;at sa sigaw ng utak na apakan ang sariling paa&lt;br /&gt;magpatapilok&lt;br /&gt;(mawala)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dahil sa piling ng iyong&lt;br /&gt;imik&lt;br /&gt;at tahimik&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wala namang pinagkaiba&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sa isang salita&lt;br /&gt;maaari nang mamatay ang lahat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sugatan&lt;br /&gt;duguan&lt;br /&gt;dilang kinakagat&lt;br /&gt;sa panganib ng&lt;br /&gt;(Ano nga ba?&lt;br /&gt;Hindi na matuhog&lt;br /&gt;o kahit man lang matanaw&lt;br /&gt;Nasaan na ba?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kaya naiipit ako&lt;br /&gt;sa pagnanasang tumakbo&lt;br /&gt;(habulin ang dilim&lt;br /&gt;kapag naghalo-halo pala ang letra'y nagiging itim)&lt;br /&gt;at sa sigaw ng utak na apakan ang sariling paa&lt;br /&gt;magpatapilok&lt;br /&gt;(Kanina pa pala wala&lt;br /&gt;Gusto ko lang masugatan para sabihing&lt;br /&gt;hindi wala)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dahil sa piling ng iyong&lt;br /&gt;imik&lt;br /&gt;at tahimik&lt;br /&gt;wala namang pinagkaiba&lt;br /&gt;Hindi ko kailangang mamili&lt;br /&gt;Tumakbo upang humabol&lt;br /&gt;o tumapak upang madapa&lt;br /&gt;Dahil hindi ko maaangkin ang mga letra&lt;br /&gt;(o ikaw)&lt;br /&gt;na yumayakap&lt;br /&gt;bumabalot sa'kin&lt;br /&gt;(ngunit hindi makita o mahawakan)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wala namang pinagkaiba&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nagnasa lang naman ako&lt;br /&gt;hindi ko ginawa.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4744826632513583994-1146735675450525237?l=paperpins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/feeds/1146735675450525237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4744826632513583994&amp;postID=1146735675450525237' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/1146735675450525237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/1146735675450525237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/2008/05/ganito-kumawala-ang-aking-isip.html' title='Ganito kumawala ang aking isip.'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818546965720884854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SeHa0VJIMiI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Vse5D3-f8yc/S220/RSCN8087.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4744826632513583994.post-1498991438790560837</id><published>2008-05-11T22:39:00.015+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-11T23:00:40.421+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fic'/><title type='text'>Serenade</title><content type='html'>In the tradition of disclaiming:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paris Hilton wrote better songs than this. So much for the manifesto of love poems and stories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But hey, practice makes perfect! And I really needed to create this one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;D-A-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Bm&lt;/span&gt;-G&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;D-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Bm&lt;/span&gt;-G-A&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;I keep &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;wond'rin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;When I'll stop standing still&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;Another guitar string&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;Cuts my fingers every time I try to sing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;These blank pages got holes in them&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;My pencil breaks as I break but then&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;The would-be song trembles out of tune&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;Wants to get the night over&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;Run away to the end&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;Get to the "I love you"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;Still I'm standing still&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;Alone with my guitar strings&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;Allow myself a smirk&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;For these high school verses&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;Which unbind these lines&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;I guess you'll see the sorry coming&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;You shouldn't mind the weeping&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;Just hear my I love you, I love you, I love you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;One last time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;The would-be song trembles out of tune&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt; Wants to get this night over&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt; Run away to the end&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt; Get to the "I love you"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt;I guess you'll see the sorry coming&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt; You shouldn't mind the weeping&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt; Just hear my I love you, I love you, I love you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 204);"&gt; One last time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4744826632513583994-1498991438790560837?l=paperpins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/feeds/1498991438790560837/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4744826632513583994&amp;postID=1498991438790560837' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/1498991438790560837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/1498991438790560837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/2008/05/serenade.html' title='Serenade'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818546965720884854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SeHa0VJIMiI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Vse5D3-f8yc/S220/RSCN8087.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4744826632513583994.post-898414021437720789</id><published>2008-05-04T03:55:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2008-05-04T04:13:28.533+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='byaheng dyipni'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='90&apos;s baby'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='burgis'/><title type='text'>Life As We Dream It (Or Hell No, I Couldn't Get Any More Cheesier Than This Part One Hundred)</title><content type='html'>1. I almost got run over by a jeep yesterday. And I was very sure I had the right of way. Pffft. Drivers. &lt;a href="http://www.putanginamo.com/tag/scandal/"&gt;Power&lt;/a&gt; shitters. That's why I hate, haaaate, haaaaaate, power&lt;a href="http://www.snopes.com/crime/warnings/jenkem.asp"&gt; shitters&lt;/a&gt;. ALL (okay, some... most... whatever) drivers think they own the road and commuters should stay out of the way. Well, excuuuuse me for living. If the MMDA would just implement rules that actually benefit commuters, call me. (And I don't want alms giving rules. Those &lt;a href="http://www.livescience.com/health/071220-medical-myths.html"&gt;footbridges&lt;/a&gt; actually help SOME cause I know lots of places that need one. And those without it, KEBS. Sheesh. You have to run for your life or walk a thousand miles... where you still have to run for your life.) This is the pyramid: We have the car-owning people on top, public transportation, and then commuters way down at the bottom. That's their &lt;a href="http://womenscenter.virginia.edu/sdvs/harassment/myths.htm"&gt;priority&lt;/a&gt;. And they only care about cleaning up public transportations' act for the car-owning people. Because car-owning people also own the road. Traffic is cleaned up for them. And these public transportation drivers, just because they drive, get all power crazy in the head too. If they could just implement traffic rules that promote commuting, we wouldn't even be having this crazy traffic. (Heyheyhey&lt;a href="http://www.flixster.com/articles/science-fiction-film-babes-through-time#2000"&gt;JAPAN&lt;/a&gt;hey!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so sick and tired of being herded (camaflouged as commuters-benefitting rules) just so I would get out of the way of these drivers. And I am sick and tired of always almost getting run over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. I told my mom about the dream I had. The one with the &lt;a style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);" href="http://gattara.livejournal.com/47661.html"&gt;body snatchers&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 255);"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;And she replied with:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Body snatchers?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Basta, parang mga aswang. At kailangan nga nating magtago sa kisame. Tapos ang bagal-bagal mo nga."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oo nga e. Kahit sila sinasabi din nila..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ha?" (Iniisip kung may iba ring nagsasabing mabagal siya.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sinasabi nila na mayroong mga aswang-aswang na 'yan. Ako naman, hinahanap ko. Hindi kasi ako naniniwala diyan. Sasabihin ko, 'Saan?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She left the room as I tried to figure out what just happened in our conversation.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4744826632513583994-898414021437720789?l=paperpins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/feeds/898414021437720789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4744826632513583994&amp;postID=898414021437720789' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/898414021437720789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/898414021437720789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/2008/05/life-as-we-dream-it-or-hell-no-i.html' title='Life As We Dream It (Or Hell No, I Couldn&apos;t Get Any More Cheesier Than This Part One Hundred)'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818546965720884854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SeHa0VJIMiI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Vse5D3-f8yc/S220/RSCN8087.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4744826632513583994.post-1233683954870964272</id><published>2008-04-28T23:06:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2008-04-28T23:26:01.642+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='buffy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fic'/><title type='text'>Salsal</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;“Please remove your clothing now.” – Anya, Buffy the Vampire Slayer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Dikit dito, dikit doon. Kiskis dito, kiskis doon. Dulas, haplos, kagat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Ungol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Ano ang ginagawa ng isang tao para makaramdam? Ano ang &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;kailangan&lt;/span&gt;? Lamig o init? Para bang nakidlatan? Sakit? Pagdurusa?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Naglabanan ang mga dila. Nagpalitan ng laway. Hinabol ang hininga. Nangapa ng mga suso. Naglaro ang mga daliri sa mga umbok. Tigas. Lambot. Idikit ang baywang sa bakas ng titi. Igapang ang puke sa haba.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Titig.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kumapit sa isa’t-isa. Pasukin. Lamunin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ano ang ginagawa ng isang tao para makaramdam? Umuga? Umalon? Maglabas ng &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;likido&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Masarap ba?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tumango siya. Pinulot ang mga damit. Wala siyang imik. Hindi siya ang dapat na umiiyak pero umaagos ang luha sa paglabas niya ng kwarto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nagkibit-balikat ang naiwan. Nagmura. Hindi naman umiyak pero nakatulog sa piling ng mga basang sapin.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4744826632513583994-1233683954870964272?l=paperpins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/feeds/1233683954870964272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4744826632513583994&amp;postID=1233683954870964272' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/1233683954870964272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/1233683954870964272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/2008/04/salsal.html' title='Salsal'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818546965720884854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SeHa0VJIMiI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Vse5D3-f8yc/S220/RSCN8087.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4744826632513583994.post-6556646362617995666</id><published>2008-03-26T20:02:00.004+08:00</published><updated>2008-03-26T20:35:02.880+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='women'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='joss whedon'/><title type='text'>F</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://users.livejournal.com/_allecto_/34718.html"&gt;LINK 1&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://allecto.wordpress.com/2008/03/26/the-whedonites-attack/"&gt;LINK2&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some self-proclaimed feminist talking about Joss Whedon's misogynistic view in firefly. I am more alarmed than angered with this post. This kind of feminism is a turn off and hinders the struggle of feminism and its relation to the world. Taking off my biased Joss-whedon-is-god view for a moment, I am not one to say that Joss Whedon's works are without flaws and misogynistic accounts but this woman takes Firefly way out of the space context. Let's just start of with this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"The first scene opens in a war with Mal and Zoe. Zoe runs around calling Mal ‘sir’ and taking orders off him. I roll my eyes. Not a good start."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is the actual first commentary on the show. And with that, you just know that there is something terribly wrong with this blog post (as Mal and Zoe had fought side by side in a civil war and this "sir" calling is based on Military talk). I find it really hard to believe that she actually read feminist essays, etc. or even watched the whole series twice. This enforces my belief that people should get out more and learn the ways of the world and not be comfortable with their ideologies i.e. don't delete comments that criticizes your work and claim that it automatically falls under misogynistic views, etc. Let us work on our definitions and if one really wants to help the feminist struggle, let us look at the context as a whole i.e. don't shut your eyes to things that don't agree with you. All the more you need to articulate your views as to make your point valid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-----&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have so many things to say on her interpretation of Joss Whedon's portrayal of the future world like she doesn't get it that Firefly isn't portraying a Utopian world where women are equal with men but actually the opposite (although I believe it attempts to portray a bit of "progress" in women status) but links to &lt;a href="http://community.livejournal.com/fireflyfans/1113504.html"&gt;discussions of this blog post&lt;/a&gt; would cover more (some valid, some aren't, but discussions nonetheless).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, Firefly reeks of harsh cruel future reality. She seems to have very sure insights on Joss Whedon's mind but I think she should have just stuck to interpreting the text rather than making absolute judgments on Whedon's character. I find it very offensive to just scatter the word rapist as if it is a light thing to accuse anyone. I am aware of the kind of "feminist" point of view wherein living in this male-supremacist world would actually mean heterosexual relationships = rape. As she herself pointed out in a reply to a comment on her post:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="ljcmt148382"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I believe in the radical feminist definition of rape. That is that men who pressure women into sex are rapists. That women who are pressured are not freely consenting and are therefore being raped. There have been a few discussions recently in the rad fem blogosphere debating whether all male initiated sex is rape, given that women are politically, socially and economically subordinate to men. So, in my understanding of Joss Whedon as a rapist is hinges on my definition of rape. I would argue that most 'sex' between men and women, in the contemporary 'sex-positive', pornographic, male-supremacist culture, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style="font-style: italic;"&gt;is&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; rape."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seeing that the whole earth is male-supremacist, every heterosexual male is a rapist then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I am definitely against this kind of view for this portrays women as &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;weak&lt;/span&gt;. If I have a heterosexual relationship, I am automatically letting myself be raped then? I am not weak. Women are not weak. This view portrays women as helpless victims, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;always&lt;/span&gt;. And I don't think this is what women empowerment is all about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then she goes on saying:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="ljcmt148382"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;So, I think Joss Whedon is a rapist because it is impossible for me to believe that a man who produces a show like &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Firefly&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;, a man who openly objectifies women in his interviews, a man who based the character of Xander Harris (a pro-porn, sex-obsessed teenage male in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Buffy&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;) it is imposible for me to believe that this man does not pressure his wife for sex. If he has pressured his wife for sex &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i style="font-style: italic;"&gt;even if she eventually consented&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; he is still a rapist. I know far too many women who have been, and are being, forced, coerced, manipulated, pressured into sex that they do not want with their male partners. I'd bet anything that Joss is one of these men. And if he is then he is a rapist in my books."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jumping transitive property? Now, that's just wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4744826632513583994-6556646362617995666?l=paperpins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/feeds/6556646362617995666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4744826632513583994&amp;postID=6556646362617995666' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/6556646362617995666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/6556646362617995666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/2008/03/f.html' title='F'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818546965720884854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SeHa0VJIMiI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Vse5D3-f8yc/S220/RSCN8087.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4744826632513583994.post-7986874316400016644</id><published>2008-03-20T13:03:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2008-03-20T13:36:33.953+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='starving artist'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='burgis'/><title type='text'>Prosti</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Ang katawan ay may kapasidad mangapital. Kung dati ang paraan sa pangarap na pag-angat ay pagkuha ng pagpapari at medisina dahil natitiyak nitong bubuti ang buhay at nakakatulong pa sa kapwa; sumunod ay commerce dahil tiyak daw ang pagpasok ng pera kapag nagnegosyo; ngayon ay pag-aartista na. Kung may hitsura ang bata, lalo pa’t hindi pinalaki ng Milo at Promil, ay kasabay na pangangarapin ito ng pamilya at kapitbahay na mag-artista bilang lehitimo nang kapamaraanan na makaangat sa buhay." - &lt;a href="http://rolandotolentino.blogspot.com/2008/03/interview-portion-sa-beauty-contest-at.html#links"&gt;Rolando Tolentino, Interview Portion sa Beauty Contest at Katawang Kapital&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maganda sana ang talatang ito pero hindi ko nagustuhan ang implikasyon ng dikotomiya. Parang ang "noon" ay mas maganda kaysa "ngayon" dahil sa ang pagpapari at pagmemedisina, maliban sa kakayahan nitong &lt;a href="http://abcnews.go.com/Story?id=4396156&amp;amp;page=1"&gt;mangapita&lt;/a&gt;l, ay "&lt;a href="http://dissentmagazine.org/article/?article=510"&gt;nakakatulong&lt;/a&gt; pa sa kapwa."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://pinker.wjh.harvard.edu/articles/media/dangerous_ideas.pdf"&gt;Talaga bang ito, ang pagtulong sa kapwa&lt;/a&gt;, ang dahilan at nagpapari at nagmemedisina noon? Hindi ba ang tunay na dahilan ay para makalikom nga ng kapital at maingat ang sarili sa lipunan? Case in point para sa "noon": ang mga pari at doktor sa mga akda ni Rizal. Case in point para sa "ngayon": ang naglipanang mga nursing schools.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Madami ang may ganitong pangarap pero hindi nangangahulugan na ang dami ng pari at doktor (o nars) ay sumisigurado sa kaledad. At ang depinsyon ng &lt;a href="http://bostonreview.net/BR32.6/ganji.php"&gt;kaledad &lt;/a&gt;na nais kong paniwalaan ay ang intensyong sumusulong ang isang tao sa isang ganitong uri ng trabaho dahil sa may interes sila na makatulong sa kapwa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Makikita ba natin ito sa&lt;a href="http://www.city-journal.org/2008/18_1_single_young_men.html"&gt; kasaysayan&lt;/a&gt;? Kadalasan, ang punto ng bawat magulang na nangangarap sa pagganda o KAHIT NA PAGTALINO ng kanilang mga anak ay naka-ankla lamang sa pagnanais na maiangat ang kanilang mga anak sa lipunan. O mas simpleng salita, naka-ankla sa pagkamit ng pera dahil harapin nating lahat, kailangan ng pera para &lt;a href="http://www.solidarity-us.org/node/1359"&gt;mabuhay&lt;/a&gt;. Hindi kagulat-gulat na kung gustong manatili sa ganitong klase ng lipunan, &lt;a href="http://www.christianitytoday.com/tcw/1997/novdec/7w6046.html?gclid=CPn9ofuVrJACFRwpewod5UceqA&amp;amp;start=1"&gt;kailangang mag-puta &lt;/a&gt;para makamit ang kapital. Walang pinagka-iba mula sa noon at ngayon. Nagbago na nga lang ang batas ng laro.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4744826632513583994-7986874316400016644?l=paperpins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/feeds/7986874316400016644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4744826632513583994&amp;postID=7986874316400016644' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/7986874316400016644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/7986874316400016644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/2008/03/prosti.html' title='Prosti'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818546965720884854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SeHa0VJIMiI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Vse5D3-f8yc/S220/RSCN8087.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4744826632513583994.post-8525480896109673425</id><published>2008-03-09T12:48:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2008-03-26T20:39:01.529+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='women'/><title type='text'>“SAPLOT” NG SIMBAHAN: ANG PANANAMIT AYON SA KATOLIKONG SIMBAHAN AT ANG IMPLIKASYON NITO SA KABABAIHAN</title><content type='html'>Isinumite ni:&lt;br /&gt;Mary Anne Claire M. Umali&lt;br /&gt;(Oktubre 16, 2007)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isinumite kay:&lt;br /&gt;Propesor Gil Gotiangco&lt;br /&gt;Kas 114&lt;br /&gt;(TF 2:30-4:00)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;INTRODUKSYON&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Noon bata pa ako, hindi ako mapili sa aking pananamit. Isusuot ko kung ano ang pinapasuot sa akin ng nanay ko. Noong ako ay nasa primary level (mga grade one hanggang grade three) ng aking paaralan, mayroon akong mga kaklaseng naka-bracelet, na minsan ay tinatawag na “burloloy” ng aking mga nakatatandang pinsan. “Maarte” daw ang mga batang ito. Sa tono ng kanilang mga boses, para bang karumaldumal magsuot ng mga burloloy at maging maarte.&lt;br /&gt;  Marami pang beses naipamukha sa akin ang kahalagahan ng isinusuot noong aking kabataan hanggang sa pagtanda. Halimbawa, pinapansin na ng aking mga kaklase ang kanilang pananamit at pinagmamalaki nila na sila ang pumili nito. Sabi nga ng pinsan ko, maypag-ka-“late-bloomer” daw ako dahil hindi ako katulad ng aking mga kaklase na may pakialam sa suot-suot nila. Nagsimula nga lang akong mag-eksperimento sa damit (at huminto sa pagsusuot sa kung anumang ibigay lang ng nanay ko) nang patungtong na ako ng hayskul.&lt;br /&gt;  Sa katunayan, kinailangan pa ngang sa ibang tao manggaling ang pangangailangan kong magsuot ng bra. Ang tita ko ang nagsabi nito sa akin, isang araw bago umalis ng bahay. Tumatak ang pangyayari sa memorya ko. Grade four na ako noon. Naalala ko pa ang pakanan na paggalaw ng ulo niya habang nagsalubong ang kanyang dalawang kilay, na para bang may malalim na iniisip. At pagkatapos nga ay sinabi niyang kailangan ko na raw mag-bra dahil tumatanda na ako.&lt;br /&gt;  Napatingin ako sa aking dibdib ng sinabi niya iyon. Maraming dumaang mga nosyon sa aking munting ulo. Katulad ng, “Mainit yon!” “Bakit?” “Ayoko pang tumanda.” “Nakakahiya na ba kapag walang suot na bra?” “Bakit babae lang ang nagbra-bra?” “Para saan ang bra?” “Paano kung ayaw ko, masama ba ‘yon?” At marami pang iba.&lt;br /&gt;  Wala naman akong nagawa. Dahil nang marinig nga ng aking nanay ang mungkahi ng aking tita ay binilhan niya na ako ng mga (pre-teen) bra. At mula sa pangyayaring ito, at mula sa mga inisip ko noong panahong iyon, maaaninag natin na hindi lang basta damit ang damit. Hindi lang ito isang saplot at proteksyon mula sa mga panganib ng kalikasan na sinsasabing kagamitan nito. Katulad sa kaso ng aking naranasan, ito ay simbolikal. Kinailagan ko na raw mag-bra dahil tumatanda na ako. At mula sa aking mga reaksyon, inaalala ko kung ganito nga ba ang hinihingi sa akin ng lipunan. Kung ito ba ay tama o mali, kung para saan ito, at iba pa. Mula sa aking naranasan, binubuksan ng simpleng bagay (damit) ang daan sa mga tanong na kultural at moral.&lt;br /&gt;  Dinagdag rin kasi ng tita ko na “nahahalata” na raw ang aking dibdib. Sa puntong ito, nararapat na sigurong sabihin na papunta kami sa simbahan ng araw na iyon. Wala pa akong naisuot na bra nang tumuloy kami sa pagmimisa pero, pagkatapos ako sabihan ng aking tita, naging malay na ako sa kawalan ko ng bra. At iniisip ko pa rin kung ano ang problema kung nahahalata na ang dibdib ko. Ang inisip ko pa nga, “Bakit si tito nahahalata rin naman ang dibdib? Naglalakad pa nga sa bahay ng walang pang-itaas na damit.”&lt;br /&gt;  Pero bilang magsa-sampung taong gulang pa lang ako noon, nawala na rin ang aking pagkabagabag ng nakauwi na sa bahay at sinuot na lang ang bra nang mabilhan na ako ng aking nanay.&lt;br /&gt;  Binabalikan ko ang karanasang ito upang magbigay-pokus sa nais maging diskurso ng aking papel. Unang-una, ito ay tungkol sa damit. Pangalawa, ito ay tungkol sa babae. At huli, ito ay tungkol sa simbahan.&lt;br /&gt;  Mula sa aking karanasan, maliban sa maraming papel ang damit, mapapansing hindi ako ang pumipili ng damit na isusuot ko. At hindi lang din ang nanay ko. May impluwensiya pa ng ibang tao. Nang sabihin ng aking tita na nahahalata na ang aking dibdib, tsaka napag-isipan ng aking nanay na bilhan na ako ng mga bra. At malinaw namang babae lang ang nagsusuot nito. Dahil ba sa kailangan o “functional” ito? O dahil para hindi “mahalata” ang dibdib? Bakit kailangang hindi mahalata ang dibdib?&lt;br /&gt;  At higit pa, sino ang nagsasabing hindi dapat mahalata ang dibdib?&lt;br /&gt;  Nagmula ako sa sagrado-Katolikong pamilya. Ang basehan namin sa kung ano ang tama o mali ay halos nagmumula lahat sa turo ng Katolikong Simbahan. At sa ginawang sarbey sa mga estudyante sa Far Eastern University, University of the Philippines, at ilang empleyado ng House of Representatives, malaking porsyento ng nakuhang respondents ay Katoliko.  Sa naibigay na panahon, ito ang nakamit na sarbey ng aking pag-aaral. Pinili kong mag-sarbey mula sa ilang kolehiyo upang maging representasyon ang mga estudyante sa “kabataan” na siyang sumusubaybay sa mga bagong damit o fashion ngayon. Ang mga estudyante ay mula 17 hanggang 22 na taong gulang. Ang mga respondents naman sa lugar ng House of Representatives ang magiging representasyon ng mga “nakakatanda” at ang opinyon nila sa pananamit kung saan 43 ang pinakabata at 61 ang pinakamatanda. Isa pang rason para sa mga lugar na napili ay nasa lokasyong urban ito. Ang kasalukuyang kampanya ng Simbahan para sa dress codes ay sinasabi kasing nagmumulang Maynila.&lt;br /&gt;  Maliban sa sarbey, nagkaroon ng mga panayam sa pari at ilang propesor, nagbasa ng mga libro at artikulo sa internet kaugnay sa paksa. Umaasa ako na mula sa datos na makakalap, masusuri ang nagagawa ng simbahan at damit sa kababaihan.&lt;br /&gt;  Umaasa akong makita ang pananaw ng mga respondents ukol sa damit at ang kaugnayan nito sa mga kababaihan. Naniniwala akong may kinalaman ang pagtingin ng mga respondents sa kababaihan batay sa damit nito. At kaugnay nito, na malakas ang impluwensiya ng Katoliko sa pagtinging ito.&lt;br /&gt;Makikita ang sagot kung bakit hindi dapat nahahalata ang dibdib ng kababaihan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MGA PAPEL NG DAMIT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  May nagsasabing tatlo ang rason kung bakit nagdadamit ang tao: function, morality at aesthetic.&lt;br /&gt;Maaari ngang ang pianka-base na papel na damit ay protektahan tayo at isang halimbawa nito ay ang damiit ng mga Eskimos na sinusuot para maka-angkop ang katawan sa kanilang malamig na kapaligiran.  Pero kung function lang ang rason kung bakit nagdadamit ang tao, bakit iba-iba ang damit natin? Bakit hindi manipis ang tela ng lahat kapag mainit ang panahon sa Pilipinas at may nagpupumilit pa ring mag-jacket? Bakit kahit na malamig, mayroon pa ring naka-shorts o naka-tsinelas?&lt;br /&gt;Umiigpaw ang papel ng damit mula sa papel nito bilang proteksyon. Nandyaan ang usapan ng morality. Mayroong mga parte ng ating katawan na dapat takpan. Kinakailangan ito dahil nakakahiyang makita ito. At nakadepende ito sa kung anong lipunan ang ating kinalolooban. Relatibo ang hiya. Ayon kay Rouse, “A child is not embarassed by a lack of clothing until he has become accustomed to wearing them. Children brought up in groups where very little clothing is worn are not embarrassed by their near-nakedness. It must be said that modesty or shame was not a casual factor in the initial development of clothes, but is merely a result of the habit of wearing them.”&lt;br /&gt;Hindi likas ang hiya na nagtutulak sa ating takpan ang mga parte ng katawang “kinakailangang” takpan. Ito ay natutunan natin sa ating paglaki, mula sa ating lipunang kinabibilangan.&lt;br /&gt;  Kabaligtaran naman ng papel na aesthetic ang nabanggit na teoryang may kinalaman sa hiya. Imbes na pantakip ang damit sa mga parte ng katawang hindi dapat makita, ito ay pantawag sa mga bahagi ng katawang nais na mabigyan ng pansin at admirasyon.  Ang damit ay may papel sa pang-aakit.&lt;br /&gt;Hindi naman na kagulat-gulat na isang pananaw sa ating lipunan na ang babae ay maganda, na para bang natural sa kanya na siya ay maganda. Kaya nagkakaroon ng double standard. Kumbaga, nagiging trabaho ng babae maging maganda dahil ito ang inaasahan at sinasabi sa kanya ng lipunan. Ani pa ni Rouse, “it has been seen as a woman’s duty to be sexually attractive and this has had implications for the clothes women wear.”&lt;br /&gt;Pansining ginamit niyang salita ay sexually attractive. Kung ang damit ay nang-aakit nga sa mga mata para tingnan ang ispesipikong bahagi ng katawang nais ipakita ng isang tao, awtomatiko bang sekswal ito o maaaring ang admirasyon ay nasa purong estetikang lebel lang?&lt;br /&gt;Sa psychoanalysis,  ang konsepto ng kagandahan ay nagmumula sa espasyo ng sexual sensation. Ang kagandahan at dating ay ilang aspeto ng sexual object. Ang pinagmulan ng kagandahan ay sexual, pero ang kagandahan ay hindi halintulad sa sexual stimulation.  Hindi nating masasabing purong estetikang lebel ang pagiging attractive pero hindi rin natin siguro masasabing purong sexual din ito. Sabi nga ni Valerie Steele, “If it were merely a question of sexual characteristics, the ideal of physical beauty would not change so much over time and in different places.”  Katulad ng hiya, relatibo din sa kultura ang kagandahan.&lt;br /&gt;Kung gayon, maaring magsuot ng damit upang maging maganda. O kahit na ba makakuha ng admirasyong sekswal. Pero hindi naman siguro ang natatangging layon ay ispesipikong sekswal na pang-aakit sa mga titingin.&lt;br /&gt;Pero katulad nga ng nabanggit na, mayroon pa ring aspetong sekswal sa pananamit. Isang teorya sa pagka-erotika ng damit ay nagbibigay ito ng kuryosidad ukol sa mga nakatagong bahagi ng katawan (mas espisipiko, ang mga ari ng tao). Isang kuryosidad ukol sa kabuuan ng katawan. At sa pagtatago sa katawan, nagbibigay ito ng nasa o desire sa nakatingin na tanggalin ito.  Hindi naman kinakailangan na maging resulta nito ay pagtatalik. Ang pagka-erotika nito ay hindi ang mismong katawang “makakamit” kundi ang damit, ang mga obstacles o sagabal sa katawang tinatago.  Isa pa, nagagawa ng damit na hindi maging pangkaraniwan ang hubad na katawan. Kung lahat ay nakikita, wala na itong iniiwan sa imahinasyon at hindi maglalaon, hindi na magiging interesante.  Pinapanatili ng damit ang erotisismo at pagka-interesante sa mga tao.&lt;br /&gt;Siyempre, depende ito sa damit. Marahil ang pinaka-base nito ay sekswal at pangmatagalan (o panghabambuhay) ang pagiging sekswal nito. Pero katulad nga ng sabi ni Steele, “the charm of fashion lies partly in the way its changing beauties reveal facets of the wearer, who remakes nature by means of art.”&lt;br /&gt;Kinakailangang bigyang pokus din ang nagsusuot. Ang siyang nagbibigay ng kontribusyon sa pagbabago ng imahe ng kagandahan. Ang sabi ni Anne Houlder ukol sa damit ay hindi lang ito personal na ekspresyon. Hindi rin ito resulta lang ng kultura. Ito ay “connecting links in a creative tradition of image making.”&lt;br /&gt;Ating nakita na mahirap magkaroon ng malinaw na linya sa pagitan ng estetika at sekswal. Marahil dahil nagsasaluhan ang dalawang aspetong ito. Marahil hindi sila pwedeng paghiwalayin sa isa’t-isa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SEKSWALIDAD, KATOLISISMO, AT ANG BABAE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sa ilang klase ng Pantikan, Lipunan at Sekswalidad o PP19 sa Univesity of the Philippines, isang ehersisyong pinapagawa sa mga estudyante ay ang sabay-sabay at paulit-ulit na pagsalita nila ng kanilang mga ari. Ito raw ay paraan ng pagrere-konekta ng mga estudyante sa kanilang mga katawan. Dahil nabubuhay tayo na para bang hindi tayo mga sekswal na nilalang, o mas malala, itinatanggi ito, ang pagsasanay ay may layong ipaalala at iparating na hindi dapat ikatakot ang pagiging sekswal.&lt;br /&gt;Bakit natin ikinahihiya o ikinakatakot ang pagiging sekswal?&lt;br /&gt;Kung hahanapin at susundan ang bakas na naiwan, madadala tayo sa panahong dumating ang pananakop ng Espanyol.&lt;br /&gt;Ang mga mananakop ay nagmula sa kulturang Kristiyano na malakas ang ideolohiya ng pagtatanggi ng katawan at lahat ng bagay na sekswal.  (Maaari pang interchangeable pa ang Kristiyano at Katoliko noon.) At nang dumating ang mga mananakop, naging pokus nila ang babae sa ideyolohiyang ito.&lt;br /&gt;Hindi naman maikakaila ang estado ng babae sa relihiyong Katoliko, lalo na noon. Mas mababa ang mga babae sa lalaki at kadalasan, kung mayroon mang usapan tungkol sa kasalanan, nakasisi ito sa babae.&lt;br /&gt;Makikita ang mga aspetong ito sa Genesis ng Katolikong Bibliya. Tinukso ng ahas si Eba upang kainin ang mansanas at inalok ni Eba ang mansanas kay Adan. Pagkatapos nilang kainin ito, nahiya sila dahil sila ay nakahubad. At nang marinig nila na tinatawag sila ng Diyos, nagtago sila at nagdahilan na ayaw nilang lumbas dahil nahihiya sila sa kanilang pagkahubad.&lt;br /&gt;Sa mitong ito, ang sinisi sa pagkakasala ni Adan ay si Eba na nag-alok ng mansanas. At ayon kay San Agustin, nakaranas sila ng pagnanasa. Ang hubad na katawan ay naging sekswal na katawan. Kung gayon, dapat itong ikahiya. Nang pinalayas sila ng Diyos mula sa paraiso, dinamitan niya ang dalawa. Sa mata ng doktrina ng Kristiyanismo, proteksyon mula sa pang-akit ang damit subalit kasabay nito, ito rin ay representasyon ng vanity. At kadalasan, ang mga sulatin na ito ay naka-direkta sa mga kababaihan.  Malakas ang pagpapataw ng ganitong ideolohiya sa mga kababaihan bilang pagsasa-pedestal sa “kapurihan” ng mga babae sa kultura ng Katolisismo.&lt;br /&gt;Kaya naman hindi nakakapagtaka na kinamuhian ng mga mananakop ang kulturang kanilang dinatnan sa ating arikepelago. Lalong-lalo na ang pagtrato ng kulturang ito sa ating kababaihan. Hindi importante para sa mga lalaki at babae ang pagka-birhen, mas espesipiko, sa mga babae. Ang pag-aasawa lang ng wasto ang kinakailangan. Ibig sabihin, hindi mag-aasawa sa lalaking mas “mababa” sa kanila o ang mga tinuturing na alipin.  Sa katunayan, mataas ang estadong ikinabubuhay ng mga babae bago dumating ang mga Espanyol.&lt;br /&gt;Isang konkretong patunay ng katayuan nito ay ang pagkakaroon ng mga babaylan o katalonan na higit sa madalas ay babae. Importante ang papel ng babaylan sa lipunang pre-kolonyal. Siya ang namamahal sa ritwal, relihiyon at sinasabing pinakasentral na personahe sa lipunang ito. Siya ang nagpapayo sa datu  kung kailan isasagawa ang pagtatanim at pag-aani dahil sa kaalaman niya sa astronomiya. Eksperto ang babaylan sa maraming linangan tulad na lang ng literatura, relihiyon, kasaysayan, sikolohiya, medisina at iba pang agham at gawain.&lt;br /&gt;Sila ang sentro at relihiyonng pre-kolonyal na lipunan. Kung gayon, paano sila halos maitapon sa black hole ng kasaysayan?&lt;br /&gt;Karaniwang kaalaman naman na ang paggamit ng dahas ng mananakop sa ating mga ninuno. Krus at espada, ito ang taktika ng mga Espanyol. Epektibo ang paggamit ng espada at napatunayan naman talaga na napakaliit lang nito kung ikukumpara sa krus.&lt;br /&gt;Sa pagsapaw ng relihiyon ng mananakop sa mga sasakupin, kinailangang maiba nila ang imahe ng kalabang relihiyon. Kinakailangang gawin itong masama. Ginawa nila ito sa pamamagitan sa tinatawag ni Carolyn Brewer na hybridization of the “word”.  Mula sa baylan, ginawa ito ng mga Espanyol na bruha . Bilang naiiba ang pinanggalingan ng kultura, tinawag ng mga Espanyol na bruha ang mga nakita nilang babaylan sa paniniwalang ang mga babaeng ito ay iba ang diyos (o diyosa) na pinupuri. Kung gayon, demonyo ang kanilang dahil hindi Diyos ng Espanyol ang kanilang sinasamba.. Kaakibat na ng salitang bruha ang mga negatibong konotasyon nito.&lt;br /&gt;Sa pamamagitan ng salita o imahe naikulong ang kababaihan mula sa kanilang dating kalayaan.&lt;br /&gt;Tignan na lang ang dichotomy ng salitang “birhen” at “puta.”&lt;br /&gt;Hindi sa ating mga ninuno nagmula ang mga salitang ito. Walang silang konsepto ng “birhen” at “puta”. Sa libro ni Brewer, kinailangan pang ipagpukpukan ang konseptong ito ng mga Espanyol. Literal dahil sa mga karampatang pisikal na pasura sa mga nahuhulihan ng “masamang” gawain at figurative dahil pinagsikapan nilang ipukpok ang imahe ng Birheng Maria sa mga kanilang sakop.&lt;br /&gt;Ayon daw kay Thomas Aquinas , mabuti lamang ang sex kapag ginagawa ito ng mag-asawa at para ito sa pagpaparami ng sangkatauhan. Kaya naman ng dumating ang mga Espanyol sa arkipelago, nagkabit sila ng mga negatibong salita sa mga gawaing normal naman para sa ating mga ninuno. Mayroon kasing divorce, concubinage, polygyny at homosexuality. Sa Katolisismo, ito ay “lustful ‘perversions’… fornication, (sex between unmarried men and women); adultery, (sex between two married persons or a married and an unmarried person); seduction of virgins; and ‘unnatural vice’ (homosexuality)— which was considered the worst of all the sins of lust because it was thought to be an act against the ordinance of nature.”&lt;br /&gt;Pero ang “nakaka-aliw” dito, katulad nang pagsisi kay Eba sa kasalanan ng pagkain ng mansanas, sinisi ng mga Espanyol ang mga babae para sa mga “kalaswaang” ito. Nagkakasundo sila na ito ay dahil sa tendensiya ng mga babae na maging madumi. Marahil dahil ito na sa panahong ito, ang mga depinisyon ng nanggaling sa Europa ng mga sexual practices at ang sexual autonomy ng babae ay kasing kahulugan na ng pangkukulam.&lt;br /&gt;Kinailangan nilang tanggalin ang ganitong mga sexual practices at nakakita sila ng paraan sa pagsisi ng lahat nito sa kababaihan. Kasabay nito, kinailangan nilang magpasok ng bagong imahe. At ang imaheng ito, tulad ng nabanggit na, ay ang Birheng Maria.&lt;br /&gt;Sa kasalukuyang panahon pa nga lang, kapag sinabi kong “Ang Birhen,” alam nang si Maria ang aking tinutukoy. Malakas kasi ang pagbibigay pokus sa pagka-birhen ni Maria. Para bang ang kanyang katauhan ay hindi ang kanyang pagiging Maria kundi ang kanyang pagiging birhen.&lt;br /&gt;Pisikal na parusa (sa estilo ng flagellation) at pangungumpisal ang ipinalaganap upang puksain ang “kasamaan” ng sex sa mga babae. Ang pangungumpisal para patibayin ang “katotohanan” ng pagkakasala at ang pisikal na parusa, para mailagay ang peklat ng relasyon ng kapangyarihan at dominasyon at ipagpilitan ang katawan na sumunod sa kanila.&lt;br /&gt;At kasabay nga nito, ay ang imahe ng Birheng Maria— “the sublime model of chastity, the humble, seemingly obedient woman, who, at the Annunciation is constructed to have said, ‘I am the handmaid of the Lord,… let what you have aid be done to me— who was crusical to a church which sought to locate Mary’s place, and by analoy, the position of all women within the confines of the sexually approved behavior of passivity, timidity, docility, and obedience that typified the ‘good’ woman.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BAKAS NG IMPLUWENSIYA (SA PAMAMAGITAN NG BIRHEN)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sa panahon ng Espanyol makikita ang bakas ng ganitong klaseng mabuting babae.&lt;br /&gt;Sa popular na librong Urbana at Feliza ni Padre Modesto de Castro, ang Character Education sa aspeto ng babae dito ay sumasalamin sa pinalaganap na imahe ng bagong pasok na mga Espanyol.&lt;br /&gt;“Sa isang dalaga naman ay di nababagay ang paglakad na pinag-aaralan, ang magpakendeng-kendeng at tumingin nang pasulyap sa nakikitang binata sapagkat ikapupla sa kanyang asal. Kung ang isang dalaga ay magpakita sa lakad, sa kilos, at pagtingin ng laban sa kabaitan, ay parang nag-aanyaya sa lalaki, na siya’y aglahiin nang masama.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“… ang kanyang puri ay maipaghahalimbawa sa kayamanan, sa hiyas na iisa-isa na iniingatan, sa minsang masira’y di na mauuli, sa minsang malaglag ay di na madarampot. Tulad sa maningning at malinis na bubog na sa minsang mabasag ay di na mabubuo.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Kung ang kapasyalan ay isang ginoo o mahal, ay huwag mangunguna o umagapay kaya kung di magpahuli ng munti…”&lt;br /&gt;Sa munting librong Manga Tagobilin Na Sa Manga Dalaga ni Antonio Claret Y Clara, nakadiin pa rin ang mga kabutihang ugali at ang pag-uugnay nito sa Birhen.&lt;br /&gt;“Cailangan ding piguilin mong mahigpit an manga ipinaquiquiramdam nang iyong catauan, lalong-lalo na ang manga mata; tulad sa cabal-banalang Virgen na ang cahinhinan at caayusan nang caniyang aniyo ay gayong caguilas-guilalas, na nacasusupil sa manga talandi at dalahirang babayi.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ngunit anong pagsisimba’t, pagdarasal ang canilang gagauin cun ang canilang pananamit at gayac ay talagang uari sa sayauan at pamucao sa cahalayan; at anaqui, uala silang hangad, cun di ang panoorin sila nang lahat, at ang magbigay nang escandalo sa caramihan?”&lt;br /&gt;Ganito rin ang pag-uugnay ni Fr. Honorio Munoz noong 1954 sa pagbibilin sa kabataan at kay Maria. Sinasabi niyang kinakailangan ng kabataan ng “leadership.”&lt;br /&gt;“How many girls… believe themselves above reproach when conforming themselves to the modern shameless fashions. They would undoubtedly blush could they merely conjecture the effect upon and the sentiments of the onlookers. Do they most realize the harm caused by the excess of certain gymnastics and sports which do not become virtous girls? Do they fail to see the most pericious results or entertainments which under the cloak of art are acted by Catholic girls with utter disregard for the humble virtue of modesty? (Schools of Ballet, take notice). How many consciences have been made lax and how many turned pagan!… Numberless are the sins committed or provoked by unrestrained and licentious conversations by immodest, nay outright indecent theatrical representations, and by the inexhaustible lewd literature of today!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Let the youth of today become Marian in ideals and eucharistic in life, ideals of purity and fidelity, purity in mind, purity in heart… Ideals of modesty and loyalty; modesty in all that refers to the protection of purity, modesty in dress, modesty in looks, modesty in amusements and entertainments, modesty in conversation… conquer all temptations against the virtues of modesty and purity… you take refuge in the heart of her who is the Virgin Mother of Jesus, source of all purity, worthiness and beauty… MARY IMMACULATE— YOUR PATTERN, YOUR MOTHER, YOUR QUEEN! AMEN.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1954 at panahon na ng Amerikano pero pinapalaganap pa rin ang ganitong layon at imahen. Ginagamit pa rin ang Birheng Maria.&lt;br /&gt;Makikita nating institusyon na ang imaheng ito. Malinaw na ganito ang modelo ng kagandahan at kabutihan. Isang babae o mas ispesipiko, isang babaeng birhen, mahinhin, at kamukha ni Maria, ibig sabihin ay mestiza .&lt;br /&gt;Sa literatura ni Jose Rizal, mayroong isang napakakonkretong epitome ng pag-iidolo sa ganitong imahen. Sa pamamagitan ng kanyang karakter na si Maria Clara, ipinakita niya ang depinisyon ng ideyal na babae.&lt;br /&gt;“… malaki ang kanyang mga mata, maitim, nalililiman ng malalantik na pilik-mata: masaya at mapungay kung siya ay naglalaro, malungkot, malalim at mapag-isip kung hindi siya ngumingiti. Nang bata pa siya, ang kanyang kulo na buhok ay halos rubyo; ang kanyang ilong, tamang-tama kung tatanawin sa tagiliran, hindi masyadong matangos o pango… pinung-pino ang kanyang balata na katulad ng balat ng sibuyas at simputi ng bulak… Si Maria Clara, idolo ng lahat… pinalalamutian ang kanyang malago at kulot na buok ng sampaguita at azucena, kinakabitan ng dalawang maliliit na pakpak na pilak at ginto ang likod ng kanyang trahe, at pinahawak ng dalawang kalapating puti na nakatali ng sintas na bughaw.”&lt;br /&gt;Ayon nga kay Teodoro Bacani, nabibigay ang mga aspeto ni Maria sa mga “kamukha” nito. Tinutukoy ni Bacani na ang mga imahen at rebulto ni Maria na maputi, mestiza, at naka-damit ng mga mamahaling tela at punong-puno ng alahas. Nagkakaroon ang mga sumasamba kay Maria, samakatuwid ang mga imahen at rebultong ito sa kanilang isipan, ng asosasyon sa mga mayayamang mestiza at iniisip na katulad ni Maria, ay mabait ang mga mestizang ito. “Is it not possible that consciously or unconsciously, some oppresors may foster this identification of the virgin with the richer class so as to keep in subjection an opressed people?”&lt;br /&gt;BAKAS NG IMPLUWENSIYA (SA PAMAMAGITAN NG DAMIT)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Nakikiusap akong mabigyan ng permisong basahin ang mito ng Genesis sa isang anggulo kaugnay ng pagdating ng Espanyol.&lt;br /&gt;  Sa puntong ito, alam na natin na ang Espanyol ang nagdala sa atin ng konsepto ng kasalanan kaugnay sa pakikipagtalik. Mayroon ng pinagkaiba ang isang mabuting nilalang, mas espisipiko ang babae, mula sa masama base lamang sa kanyang sekswalidad. Kung gayon, para palang ahas at mansanas ang mga Espanyol dahil mula sa pagiging “inosente” ng ating mga ninuno sa kanilang mga “hubad na katawan,” naging “mulat” sila sa pagiging sekswal na kanilang katawan at ang kaagapay na kahihiyan dito. Habang ginagampanan ng mga mananakop ang papel ng demonyo, naglalaro rin sila bilang Diyos sa pagdadamit sa kanilang sakop.&lt;br /&gt;  Bago dumating ang mga Espanyol, maraming baryasyon ang estilo ng pananamit depende sa mga impluwensiya tulad ng Hindu-Chinese at iba pang Oryental na bansa.  Ayon kay Milagros Santiago Enriquez, ang unang uri ng kasuot na nakilala ay ang camisa o baro, isang pang-itaas na saplot kung saan ang tabas ay mula sa damit ng Tsina. Ang pambaba ay parang tapis na nakakapit sa baywang kung saan ang estilo ay hango sa mga babaeng Indonesia.&lt;br /&gt;  Sa pagdating naman ng mga Espanyol, kinailangan na ngang itago ang katawan dahil makasalanan ito. Pinatungan ang camisa kagaya ng corpino at alampay o panuelo, nakapatong mula batok hanggang dibdib. Pinahaba ang saya hanggang sa bukong-bukong at nilagyan ng tapis sa ibabaw.Ang manggas ay maluwang at mahaba hanggang sa dulo ng braso. Makapal ang saya at baro na puno ng burda at palamuti. Ito daw ang tawag sa estilong Maria Clara ngayon, isang kasuotan ng mga nag-aaral sa relihiyosong kolehiyo na tinuturuan ng mga sining pantahanan.&lt;br /&gt;  Ayon kay Cruz, mayroong mga patong na Tapis “to avoid scandalous transparecies especially when silhouetted against the light.” At ang mga Panyo ay isinusuot sa ulo at leeg at may mga dekorasyon ng rosaryo o larawan ng santo (stampita) para proteksyon mula sa kasamaan.&lt;br /&gt;  Naging komplikado ang panlabas na kasuotan kaya sumunod din dito ang panloob— may Corpino at Puntillas.  Ayon pa kay Sandoval, “If the BABARAHIN (CANAMOSO) to be worn was too flimsy, women added to their CORPINO a TAPA ECHO, a piece of cloth worn to cover the front of the bodice and tucked under the second chemise.”&lt;br /&gt;  Patuloy ang magiging ebolusyon ng pananamit. Batay sa ilang mga natala, makikita naman na natin ang pinagkapareho ng tema sa pagbabago nito sa panahong nanakop ang Espanyol. Ito ay ang pagpatong-patong ng tela, ang pagtakip sa katawan ng babae.&lt;br /&gt;  Interesante din sigurong banggitin kung paano nalilimitahan ang kababaihan dahil sa mga saplot na ito. Ayon sa isang German enthnologist na si Feoder Jagor, dahil sa paraan ng pagsusuot ng Tapis at ng Saya, “This swathing only allows the young girl to take very small steps and this timidity of gait in with their downcast eyes gives them a very modest appearace.”&lt;br /&gt;  Isa na naman itong patunay sa papel ng damit. Sa bahaging ito ng papel, sa pagpapatong ng napakaraming tela sa kababaihan, nakikinita na natin ang ginagampanan ng damit kaugnay sa takot ng mga Katolikong Espanyol sa katawan at ang (para sa kanila) kaagapay nitong pagnanasa at kasalanan. Subalit hindi nga lang ito ang ginawa sa babae. Katulad nga ng sipi sa itaas, para mapanatili ang imahe ng “modesty,” ang damit ang naging instrumento para makapaglakad lang ng maliliit na hakbang ang kababaihan. Ayon sa propesor ng Art Studies na si Roselle Pineda, hindi lang simbolikal ang damit. Hindi lang piguratibo ang epekto sa kababaihan kundi literal. Pinupuwersa kang kumilos sa isang espesipikong paraan na naayon sa kung ano ang “maganda” sa lipunan.&lt;br /&gt;  Isa pang paghihirap ang mababanggit sa libro ni Cruz ay ukol sa pagsusuot ng Baro o Camisa.&lt;br /&gt;“Head pins were used to close the front opening and tuck the lower portion to fit the bodice. One unguarded movement would be enough to displace all the pins and make a pin cushion out of the wearer, an incident which was avoided by constantly being aware of one’s movements… Since the whole CAMISA was joined together by the hand stitching, it also became necessary to detach the various parts for laundering. The pieces were then washed carefully, starched and sewn together once again for the next wearing. This tedious chore was a regular activity of the women who were usually trained at a younger age.”&lt;br /&gt;  Patuloy na iiral ang ganitong kalakaran. Patuloy ring papasok ang impluwensiya ng mga dayuhan. Makikita sa Noli Me Tangere ang paggagayak ng ilang mga Pilipina na parang dayuhan sa karakter na si Donya Victorina.&lt;br /&gt;“Isinuot ang pinakamagandang damit, inilagay sa kanyang bestidang seda ang lahat ng kanyang laso at bulaklak, para magpasikat sa mga probinsyano…”&lt;br /&gt;  Hanggang sa maapektuhan ang pananamit sa pangangailangan nitong mabago dahil sa mga ekonomikal at politikal na pangyayari. Mangingibabaw ang pangangailangang ito sa pagnanasa sa “modesty” o pagiging disente na nakabatay sa naipapakita ng katawan.&lt;br /&gt;  Ang mga pangyayaring tinutukoy ay ang himagsikan hanggang sa dumating na ang mga Amerikano. Nagkaroon ng pagbabago sa pananamit na nakabatay sa pangangailangan ng kalayaan sa paggalaw kaya naman umikli ang mga manggas ng Camis pati na ang Saya.&lt;br /&gt;  Magiging ganito ang pattern ng ebolusyon ng pananamit dahil iba’t-iba ang hinihiling ng panahon dito.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DRESS CODE NG SIMBAHAN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Sa aking mga napag-aralan ukol sa kasaysayan ng pananamit sa Pilipinas, pinili kong bigyan ng pokus ang panahon ng pananakop ng Espanyol dahil sila ang nagdala ng Katolisismo sa Pilipinas. At makikita mula sa tala ng mga historyador ukol sa pre-kolonyal na panahon, ang Katolisismo ang malaking instrumento ng pagpapasailalim ng dating kapangyarihan ng babae sa ating lipunan. Sila ang bumansag ng “bruha” sa ating mga babaylan. Sila ang bumansag na “puta” sa ating mga kababaihan. Ipinalaganap sa pamamagitan ng ilang mga sulatin, akda, at sining ang imaheng dapat itanggi ng babae at ang kanyang dapat na sundin. At nagkataon lang ba na ang dapat sunding imahen ng babae ay gayong magtatanggal ng kapangyarihan niya sa lipunan?&lt;br /&gt;  Ito ay nangyari ilang taon nang nakakalipas, noong panahon nga ng Espanyol. Ito ang imahen at pagpapahirap sa mga kababaihan noon, ganito pa rin ba ngayon?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  Masyado na raw “moderno” ang fashion ngayon kaya binabalik ang dress code.  Sa tatlong paring aking nakapanayam, hindi naman daw istrikto ang pagpapatupad nito kundi guidelines lang sa kung ano ang nararapat. Hindi naman maaaring hindi na papapasukin sa simbahan kapag hindi na sumunod sa dress codes. Guidelines lamang daw ito. At ano nga ba ang nakatakda sa guidelines na ito?&lt;br /&gt;  Sa tarpulin at poster na nakapaskil sa parokya na pinamumunuan ni Fr. Giovanni Osias O. Yugo, nakasulat at inilalarawan dito kung ano ang proper at improper na pananamit sa simbahan. Galing ang tarpulin o poster na ito mula sa Ministry for Liturgical Affairs na siyang grupo na “nangangampanya” para sa dress code.&lt;br /&gt;  Sa ilalim ng proper para sa kalalakihan ay ang (1) collared shirts o T-shirts (2) jeans/slack pants (3) polo shirts/ longsleeves polo. At para naman sa babae ay ang (1) long sleeves/collared blouses (2) corporate attires blouses/ office/ school uniforms (3) dresses/ long gowns. Sa ilalim naman ng improper para sa kalalakihan ay ang (1) cap/ sombrero (2) jersey/ sando (3) jersey shorts/ shorts. Para sa kababaihan, (1) spaghetti straps/ tank tops (2) skirts/ skimpy shorts (3) sleeveless/ plunging necklines.&lt;br /&gt;  Mapapansin natin na ang mga nasa ilalim ng improper ay mga damit na mas nakakapagpakita ng “balat.” Isa pa, mas lalong puna ang pagka-improper sa kababaihan base sa pagpapakita ng balat dahil ang unang bagay na improper sa kalalakihan ay sombrero, na siya namang hindi kaugnay sa pagpapakita ng balat. Pero sa kababaihan, ang tatlong nakalistang improper ay may kinalaman lahat sa mas nakikitang balat.&lt;br /&gt;Ang jersey sando at shorts ng mga kalalakihan ay hindi maaaring maging pormal. Mayroong pagbabase sa pagiging kaunting pormal ang pangangailan na mapa-isalalim sa proper na dress code. Pero hindi ito sapat para sa babae. Pwedeng maging pormal ang spaghetti straps at tank tops na pang-itaas, gayundin naman ang mga sleeveless at plunging necklines pero ito pa rin ay improper sa ilalim ng dress code. Ang pinagkakaparehang tema nga ng mga damit na ito ay ang kanilang pagpapakita ng balat (hindi ba ang nirerekomendang long sleeves blouse ang isuot para sa kababaihan ngunit hindi naman sa kalalakihan?).&lt;br /&gt;Sabi ni Fr. Joselito Rocero, moral guidelines ang dress code.  Kung gayon, masasabi nating nakaka-apekto ito sa moral na pagtingin sa ating sarili, mas espisipiko, sa ating kababaihan. Hindi angkop ang “nagseseksihang babae” na pananamit sa simbahan. Ang mga spaghetti straps at fit ay nakaka-distract.  At kung isang tao, nakagayak ng mabuti, magiging maganda ang pananaw ng ibang tao.  At ang dress code nga ang magpapaalala sa ating kung ano ang mabuting gayak para sa babae? Mula sa ganitong perspektibo, sinasabing ang mga naka-spaghetti straps at fit ay hindi nakagayak dahil improper ito ayon sa dress codes.&lt;br /&gt;Ayon kasi kay Fr. Rocero, ang pagiging moral ay hindi isang personal na bagay kundi ang pagtanggap ng lipunan. At mayroong degree ito na kailangan nating sundin. “Morality is something that is standardized by the eyes of God and at the same time, among the people.” Sinasabi rin niyang ang Simbahan ang magsasabi kung ano ang “pleasant sa eyes of God.”&lt;br /&gt;Kung gayon, hindi “pleasant” ang babaeng naka-spaghetti straps at naka-fit sa paningin ng Diyos?&lt;br /&gt;At isa pang tanong, ang Diyos at Simbahan lang ba ay may pagtingin na ganito?&lt;br /&gt;Ito ang dahilan ng paggawa ko ng sarbey. Sinubukan kong malaman kung naging epektibo nga ba ang kampanya ng dress code. Sa pamamagitan ng sarbey, inasahan kong maaaninag ang pagkapareha ng tingin ng Simbahan at ng mga nagsisimba dito.&lt;br /&gt;Ispesipiko sa sarbey na ito ang lugar lang bilang urban na espasyo pero random ang edad at kasarian.&lt;br /&gt;Unahin natin ang mga pitong respondents sa ginanap na sarbey noong Setyembre 30, 2007 sa Sta. Clara, ang simbahang matatagpuan sa Quezon City.&lt;br /&gt;Anim ang sang-ayon sa pag-iimplimenta ng dress code at isa lang ang nag-aalangan dito. Apat naman mula sa tatlo ang may nais na maging pormal sa pagsisimba sa relihiyong Katoliko. At lahat ay nagsabing magsisimba pa rin sila kahit na mahigpit ang pagpapatupad ng dress code. Isa pa, nang tanungin din kung sino ang nararapat na magtakda ng dress codes, puro “pari” ang kanilang mga sagot.&lt;br /&gt;Tinanong din sila kung anong sa kanilang palagay ang hindi dapat isuot na kababaihan sa simbahan. Ang mga pagpipilian ay:&lt;br /&gt;“sleeveless, loose T-shirt, polo, backless, tube, low V-neck blouse, collared blouse, asymmetrical top, micro-mini, mini-skirt, long skirt, skinny jeans, leggins, shorts (below knees), slippers, wedges, stiletto/ high-heeled shoes, step-in, boots, baby tee hanging blouse, halter top, off-shoulder, spaghetti straps, pedals/ capri pants, cargo pants, baggy pants, jogging pants, shorts (above knees), rubber shoes, rubber sandals, sneakers/chucks”&lt;br /&gt;Sa pagta-tally ng kanilang mga sagot, ang pinakamataas na naging resulta ng hindi nararapat na isuot sa simbahan ng isang babae ay ang backless, tube, mini-skirt at off-shoulder.&lt;br /&gt;Sa sarbey sa Nativity of Our Lady Parish ng Marikina na ginanap noong Oktubre 14, 2007. Katulad din ito ng sarbey sa Sta. Clara na hindi ispesipiko sa edad at kasarian kundi sa espasyo ng pagiging urban at nagsisimba.&lt;br /&gt;Mula sa walong repondents, pito ang sang-ayon sa dress code. Anim ang gugustuhing mag-pormal at dalawa ang hindi. Lahat din sila ay magsisimba kahit na mahigpit ang pagpataw ng dress code. At kung tatanungin kung sino dapat ang magtatakda nito, halos lahat ay “pari” din ang sinagot, maliban lang sa isa na hindi daw niya alam at isa, (respondent I, 49, babae) na nagsabing hindi pari, pastoral council at ang mga church members.&lt;br /&gt;Ang pinakamataas na resulta sa grupong ito ukol sa hindi dapat isuot ng kababaihan ay ang tube, micro-mini, at spaghetti straps.&lt;br /&gt;Ang mga damit na ito ay mas nagpapakita ng balat kaysa sa ibang pagpipilian. Katulad ng Simbahan, naka-base rin ang kanilang paningin ukol sa dapat na kasuotan ng babae sa pagpapakita o hindi pagpapakita ng katawan. Higit pa dito, nakahanda rin silang ibigay ang desisyon sa kung ano ang karapat dapat na kanilang damit sa mga pari.&lt;br /&gt;Tatlo pa ang ginawang sarbey bukod dito. Sa labas naman ng simbahan ginawa ang mga sarbey na ito para maaaring kahit hindi nagsisimba, o Katoliko ay ma-sarbey. May partikularidad nga lang ito sa edad at lugar.&lt;br /&gt;Unahin natin ang ginanap na sarbey sa Far Eastern University kung saan mayroong 21 respondents noong Agusto 6, 2007. Ang kanilang mga edad ay mula 18 hanggang 22.&lt;br /&gt;  Labing-isa sa kanila ang naniniwalang maaaring malaman ang pagka-disente ng isang tao sa pananamit at sampu naman ang hindi. Ang pinakamataas na damit na hindi nakakuha ng suporta bilang isang disenteng damit ay ang backless. Apat naman ang gumawa ng sariling kategorya at sinabing wala sa mga damit ang kanilang minarkahan.&lt;br /&gt;Sunod ay ang sarbey sa University of the Philippines Diliman na ginanap noong Agusto 7, 2007 na mayroong 17 na respondents. Ang kanilang mga edad ay mula 17 hanggang 20.&lt;br /&gt;Sampu sa kanila ang nagsabing makikita sa pananamit ang pagiging disente ng babae at anim ang nagsabing hindi, habang hindi ito sinagutan ng isa. Ang nakakuha ng pinakaraming marka ay ang micro-mini habang pito naman ang humingi rin ng kategoryan magsasabing wala sa mga damit na iyon ang kailangan nilang piliin.&lt;br /&gt;Huli naman ay mas nakakatandang grupo na 20 respondents mula sa House of Representative, Batasan, Quezon City na ginanap noong Setyembre 10 hanggang 13 ng 2007. Ang kanilang mga edad ay mula 43 hanggang 61.&lt;br /&gt;Labing-walo sa kanila ang nagsasabing makikita ang pagiging disente sa pananamit, isa ang hindi at isa ay sinabing “almost.” Backless naman ang nanalong damit na hindi dapat isuot ng isang disenteng babae.&lt;br /&gt;Maliban sa nabanggit na, na kahit sa labas ng Simbahan ginanap ang sarbey, mas marami pa ring nakuhang respondents na Katoliko. Katulad ng sarbey na ginanap sa loob ng Simbahan, ang mga damit na ibinotong hindi dapat isuot na babae ay mga damit na nagpapakita ng “maraming balat.”&lt;br /&gt;Pero interesante ring itala ang paggawa nila ng sariling kategorya kung ano dapat ang hindi isinusuot ng isang disenteng babae kahit na may nakahain ng pagpipilian nila. At ang kategoryang ito ay “wala.” Wala sa mga binigay na pagpipilian ang gusto nilang markahan para sabihin na ang ispesipikong damit na ito ay hindi dapat isuot ng babae. Siguro dapat bigyang pokus din na ang sarbey lang sa labas ng Simbahan ang gumawa ng ganitong kategorya. At kung magiging mas ispesipiko, mas marami sa kabataan ang gumawa ng ganitong kategorya kaysa sa grupo ng nakakatanda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KONKLUSYON&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hindi niya maturuan ng tama at nararapat, sang-ayon sa direkto ng simbahan. Hindi siya magsusuot ng sapin sa paa. Hindi maglalagay ng belo sa ulo sa pagpasok sa simbahan. Hindi mahihiyang maglakad ng walang pang-itaas, pero nakapalda.”&lt;br /&gt;Sa historikal na nobela ni Jun Cruz Reyes, ginamit niya ang pananamit upang ipakita ang nais na pag-sakop ni Padre Kiko kay Rosa. Ang pananamit at mga karakter ay nagsisiwalat ng pagsasakop ng relihiyon, ispesipiko sa ating kasaysayan ay ang Katolisismo, sa ating kababaihan.&lt;br /&gt;“Sa kaso ni Rosa, mag-uumpisa na ang kanyang penitensya, dahil lamang nakisali siya sa batas ng pagsusuot ng salawal at bestida. Tapos na ang istorya ng bisa ng pang-amoy ni Rosa.”&lt;br /&gt;Simbolo ang damit sa nobela. Simbolo ang damit sa kasaysayan. Maaaring sabihing ito ay isang uri ng indibidwal na ekspresyon dahil dito makakakuha ng identidad. Ang pananamit din ay isang performance ng identidad dahil may malapit na relasyon ang katawan sa damit subalit hindi puro ang ekspresyong ito. Prescribed pa rin kasi ng damit ang lipunan. Prescribed ang mga pagpipilian na akala ng isang indibidwal ay malaya siyang pumili.&lt;br /&gt;At ganito nga ang dress code. Mayroong inilaang listahan ang Simbahan upang pagpilian ng mga miyembro nito. Kaya kung pag-uusapan din ang morality na kaakibay ng damit, isang relatibong bagay, hindi likas ang ating morality. Prescribed din ito ng Simbahan. Makikita sa resulta ng sarbey na mas maraming (o sa katunayan ay lahat na dahil dalawa lang ang sumalungat) pumapayag na ang mga pari ang magtatakda ng dress code. Walang partipasyon sa mga miyembro.&lt;br /&gt;Maitatakda ito ng mga paring may pananaw na masyadong “liberated”  ang ating lipunan.&lt;br /&gt;Makikita nga naman ito kahit saan dahil sa pakalat-kalat na kaunting saplot ng mga modelo mula sa billboards, telebisyon, sine, at iba pa. Isang halimbawa nga ni Ava Vivian Gonzales ang pop idol na si Britney Spears. Isa raw “bare-bellied and silicone breasted young woman looms large in today’s globalised world where Britney is… the penultimate object of desire…”  Para nga namang naging sex object  na lamang ang babae. Pero ang pagdadamit ba ng Simbahan ang magiging solusyong nang pagtingin sa babae bilang sex object?&lt;br /&gt;Sa pangangailangang takpan ang ilang bahagi ng katawan ng babae, halimbawa ay ang dibdib, sinasabi pa rin na kinakailangang takpan ang “nakaka-akit” na bahagi ng katawan niya. Katulad ng bagong pasok na Katolikong mananakop, sex object pa rin ang tingin sa babae dahil imbes na tanggapin ang magka-akibat na aspeto ng estetika at sekswal sa kagandahan, pinapanatili lang ang sekswal at ang pangangailangang takpan ito. Bakit babae lang ang nagtataglay ng sekswal na kagandahang ito? Bakit siya, at hindi pati ang lalaki, ang dapat takpan?&lt;br /&gt;Nabaon na tayo sa kaisipang birhen/puta na ipinamana ng mga sinaunang Katolikong Espanyol. Ang tanging kahalagahan pa rin ng babae ay nakabatay sa kaniyang sekswalidad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mula sa 20 na respondents sa House of Representatives, 16 ang Katoliko. 18 na Katoliko naman mula sa 21 na estundyante ng FEU at 13 mula sa 17 na estudyante ng UP.&lt;br /&gt;Rocero, Fr. Joselito, Panayam, Marikina City, 5 August 2007.&lt;br /&gt;Rouse, Elizabeth, Understanding Fashion, p. 1&lt;br /&gt;Ibid., p. 2&lt;br /&gt;Ibid., p. 9&lt;br /&gt;Ibid., p. 10&lt;br /&gt;Ibid., p. 15&lt;br /&gt;Isang metodo ng pag-aaral ng psychic disorders sa pamamagitan ng hinahayaang pagkwe-kwento ng pasyente sa kanyang mga personal na karanasan, lalong-lao na ukol sa kabataan at mga panaginip.&lt;br /&gt;Steele, Valerie, Fashion and Eroticism: Ideals of Feminine Beauty from the Victorian Era to the Jazz Age, p. 39-40.&lt;br /&gt;Ibid., p. 41.&lt;br /&gt;Ibid., p. 43.&lt;br /&gt;Ibid., p. 45.&lt;br /&gt;Ibid., p. 44.&lt;br /&gt;Ibid., p. 45.&lt;br /&gt;Ibid., p. 47.&lt;br /&gt;Eliserio, U, Panayam, Quezon City: UP Diliman, 10 August 2007.&lt;br /&gt;Brewer, Carolyn, Shamanism, Catholicism, and Gender Relation in Colonial Philippines 1521-1685, p. 27.&lt;br /&gt;Steele, Valerie, Fashion and Eroticism: Ideals of Feminine Beauty from the Victorian Era to the Jazz Age, p. 13-15.&lt;br /&gt;Guerrero, Milagros C., Ang Kababaihan sa Ika-Labimpitong Siglo, p. 45.&lt;br /&gt;Isang tagapamahala ng barangay bilang isang yunit pang-ekonomiya.&lt;br /&gt;Salazar, Zeus, Ang Babaylan sa Kasaysayan ng Pilipinas, p. 36-38.&lt;br /&gt;Brewer, Carolyn, Shamanism, Catholicism, and Gender Relation in Colonial Philippines 1521-1685, p. 155.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mangkukulam. Nagkaroon ng ganitong termino dahil sa mga Espanyol.&lt;br /&gt;Binansagang Angelic Doctor. Isa siyang prominenteng pilosopo sa mga Katoliko.&lt;br /&gt;Brewer, Carolyn, Shamanism, Catholicism, and Gender Relation in Colonial Philippines 1521-1685, p. 35.&lt;br /&gt;Ibid., p. 36.&lt;br /&gt;Ibid., p. 78.&lt;br /&gt;Ibid., p. 112.&lt;br /&gt;Ibid., p. 79.&lt;br /&gt;De Castro, Padre Modesto, ed. Baquiran, Romula, Urbana at Feliza, p. 79.&lt;br /&gt;Ibid., p. 81.&lt;br /&gt;Ibid.&lt;br /&gt;Claret Y Clara, Antonio, Manga Tagobilin Na Sa Manga Dalaga, p. 13.&lt;br /&gt;Ibid., p. 48.&lt;br /&gt;The University of Santo Tomas, the catholic university of the Philippines in humble tribute to the Immaculate Conception, Philippine National Marian Year, 1854-1954, p. 190.&lt;br /&gt;Ibid., p. 191.&lt;br /&gt;Ibid., p. 192-193.&lt;br /&gt;Anak ng magka-ibang lahi. Kadalasan, isang isteryotypikal na mukhang puting banyaga.&lt;br /&gt;Rizal, Jose, ed. De la Fuente, Benjamin C., Noli Me Tangere, p.35-36.&lt;br /&gt;Bacani, Bishop Teodoro C., Mary and the Filipino, p. 74-75.&lt;br /&gt;Cruz, Eric V., The Terno: Its Development and Identity as the Filipino Women’s National Costume, p. 1.&lt;br /&gt;Enriquez, Milagros, Bulakena: Anyo at Kasaysayan ng Baro’t Saya, p. 25-26.&lt;br /&gt;Ibid., p. 29-30.&lt;br /&gt;Cruz, Eric V., The Terno: Its Development and Identity as the Filipino Women’s National Costume, p. 2.&lt;br /&gt;Ibid., p. 3-4.&lt;br /&gt;Ibid., p. 4.&lt;br /&gt;Ibid., p. 5.&lt;br /&gt;Pineda, Roselle, Panayam, Quezon City: UP Diliman, 11 October 2007.&lt;br /&gt;Cruz, Eric V., The Terno: Its Development and Identity as the Filipino Women’s National Costume, p. 8.&lt;br /&gt;Rizal, Jose, ed. De la Fuente, Benjamin C., Noli Me Tangere, p.284.&lt;br /&gt;Cruz, Eric V., The Terno: Its Development and Identity as the Filipino Women’s National Costume, p. 8.&lt;br /&gt;Mactal, Fr. Roland D., Panayam, Marikina City, 7 October 2007.&lt;br /&gt;Yugo, Fr. Giovanni Osias O., Panayam, Marikina City, 10 October 2007.&lt;br /&gt;Rocero, Fr. Joselito, Panayam, Marikina City, 5 August 2007.&lt;br /&gt;Yugo, Fr. Giovanni Osias O., Panayam, Marikina City, 10 October 2007.&lt;br /&gt;Mactal, Fr. Roland D., Panayam, Marikina City, 7 October 2007.&lt;br /&gt;Rocero, Fr. Joselito, Panayam, Marikina City, 5 August 2007.&lt;br /&gt;Reyes, Jun Cruz, Etsa Puwera, p. 63.&lt;br /&gt;Ibid., p. 67.&lt;br /&gt;Pineda, Roselle, Panayam, Quezon City: UP Diliman, 11 October 2007.&lt;br /&gt;Rocero, Fr. Joselito, Panayam, Marikina City, 5 August 2007.&lt;br /&gt;Gonzales, Ava Vivian, In a Manner of Dressing: At the Intersection of Clothing, Colonisation and Christianity, http://www.isiswomen.org/wia/wia302/manner.htm.&lt;br /&gt;Isang taong itinuturing lamang na tagapagbigay ng kasiyahang pang-sex.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SANGGUNIAN:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Libro:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bacani, Bishop Teodoro C. Mary and The Filipino. (Makati: St. Paul Publications, 1986).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brewer, Carolyn. Shamanism, Catholicism and Gender Relation in Colonial Philippines&lt;br /&gt;1521-1685. (Aldershot, Hants, Englad: Ashgate, 2004).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Claret y Clara, Antonio, Abp. Manga Tagobilin Na Sa Manga Dalaga, i. (Guadalupe:&lt;br /&gt;Pequeña imp. del Asilo de Huerfanos, 1889).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cruz, Eric V. The Terno: Its Development and Identity as the Filipino Women’s National&lt;br /&gt;Costume. (Quezon City: UP College of Home Economics, 1982).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enriquez, Milagros Santiago… [et. al.]. Bulakena: Anyo at Kasaysayan ng Baro’t Saya.&lt;br /&gt;(Malolos, Bulacan: Center for Bulacan Studies, 1999).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Modesto, Presbitero D… [ed.]. Baquiran Jr., Romulo P. Pagsusulatan nang dalauang&lt;br /&gt;binibini na si Urbana at Feliza. (Quezon City: Sentro ng Wikang Filipino, 1996).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reyes, Jun Cruz. Etsa Puwera. (Quezon City: UP Press, 2000).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rizal, Jose… [ed.]. De la Fuente, Benjamin. Noli Me Tangere. (Manila: De La Salle&lt;br /&gt;University Press, 2000).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rouse, Elizabeth. Understanding Fashion. (Oxford : Blackwell Scientific Publications,&lt;br /&gt;1993).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Steele, Valerie. Fashion and Eroticism: Ideals of Feminine Beauty from the Victorian&lt;br /&gt;Era to the Jazz Age. (USA: Oxford University Press, 1985).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The University of Santo Tomas, the catholic university of the Philippines in humble&lt;br /&gt;tribute to the Immaculate Conception, Philippine National Marian Year, 1854-1954. (Manila : Imprenta de la Universidad de Santo Tomas, 1954).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;UP Center for Women Studies… [et. al.]. Conference on Women’s Role in Philippine&lt;br /&gt;History, Faculty Center Conference Hall, University of the Philippines, Diliman&lt;br /&gt;Quezon City, March 9-10, 1989: papers and proceedings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Internet:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gonzales, Ava Vivian, In a Manner of Dressing: At the Intersection of Clothing,&lt;br /&gt;Colonisation and Christianity. 3 November 2002. http://www.isiswomen.org/wia/wia302/manner.htm. Accessed 8 October 2007.&lt;br /&gt;Panayam:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eliserio, U. Quezon City: UP Diliman, 10 August 2007.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mactal, Fr. Roland D. Marikina City, 7 October 2007.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pineda, Roselle. Quezon City: UP Diliman, 11 October 2007.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rocero, Fr. Joselito. Marikina City, 5 August 2007.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yugo, Fr. Giovanni Osias O., Marikina City, 10 October 2007.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sarbey:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Far Eastern University. 6 Agusto 2007.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;University of the Philippines Diliman. 7 Agusto 2007.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;House of Representative, Batasan, Quezon City. 10-13 Setyembre 2007.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nativity of Our Lady Parish, Marikina. 14 Oktubre 2007.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sta. Clara, Quezon City. 30 Setyembre 2007.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 255, 255);font-family:arial;" &gt;-----------------&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 255, 255);font-family:arial;" &gt;Sorry. Hindi pala naka-copy ng maayos ang endnotes. Pffft. Ohwell. Am lazy as hell. May introductory notes ukol sa paper na ito sa aking &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: arial; color: rgb(102, 255, 255);" href="http://paperpins.multiply.com/"&gt;multiply&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 255, 255);"&gt;. Whoohoo! Ahahaha.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4744826632513583994-8525480896109673425?l=paperpins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/feeds/8525480896109673425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4744826632513583994&amp;postID=8525480896109673425' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/8525480896109673425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/8525480896109673425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/2008/03/saplot-ng-simbahan-ang-pananamit-ayon.html' title='“SAPLOT” NG SIMBAHAN: ANG PANANAMIT AYON SA KATOLIKONG SIMBAHAN AT ANG IMPLIKASYON NITO SA KABABAIHAN'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818546965720884854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SeHa0VJIMiI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Vse5D3-f8yc/S220/RSCN8087.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4744826632513583994.post-4648625678056554627</id><published>2008-02-12T08:56:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-02-12T09:12:44.728+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fic'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='90&apos;s baby'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='burgis'/><title type='text'>Epitomephiphany</title><content type='html'>After years of being&lt;a href="http://paperpins.multiply.com/journal/item/8/Conspicuously_Incospicuous"&gt; ignored&lt;/a&gt;, our protagonist sits humbly in the middle of the class like the typical student she is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her professor called for the next reporter. She obediently raised her hand. Her professor looked at her quizzically and bellowed, "ESTUDYANTE BA KITA?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, he's old, forget that she once accused her of trying to act inconspicuous (which by what he just said, proved that she &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;is &lt;/span&gt;inconspicuous even if she doesn't want to)  and probably gone through a lot in Martial Law Era (but in this university, is it even a surprise from an old professor?) resulting to a everyone-is-below-me attitude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or maybe that attitude's just because of him being old (funny enough, do they actually believe that their cause would win with that feudal type of attitude they're supposed to be breaking down in the first place?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Called by an inner light, and a heated flame inside our protagonist, she now knows she must end all her professor's suffering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She put on her disco-ball hat and then raised her hands to the heavens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"TIME-SPACE WARP!!! NGAYON DIN!!!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4744826632513583994-4648625678056554627?l=paperpins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/feeds/4648625678056554627/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4744826632513583994&amp;postID=4648625678056554627' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/4648625678056554627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/4648625678056554627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/2008/02/epitomephiphany.html' title='Epitomephiphany'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818546965720884854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SeHa0VJIMiI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Vse5D3-f8yc/S220/RSCN8087.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4744826632513583994.post-1240567739887593755</id><published>2008-01-31T20:29:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-01-31T21:12:25.052+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='byaheng dyipni'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fic'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='burgis'/><title type='text'>Bully and The Queer</title><content type='html'>A handful of boy students flocked in. Blue uniforms, smell of sun and sweat staining armpit sleeves, loud chatters like slurred drunken men. My backbone hurt, pressed against the thin cushion of  the seat as my lousy attempt to get away from it all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They quickly filled up the seats. I fought hard not to let one student's elbow rub mine as I watched two more students hurry to catch the ride. But it seemed that there were no more seats. The first of the last two got one seat on the right, though. The latter, held on the rails of the tiny jeep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other students jeered and joked, pointing at nothing, telling him there's a seat "over there," and kept pointing at nothing. I thought they were "joking" anyway. Thinking they were friends with Last Student. I soon found out they weren't, of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second to the Last Student moved, squeezed himself on the seats on the left side. Then, signaled his boyfriend to the seat he just emptied. Half-smiling, at his boyfriend I guess, and half-grimacing, having to seat with the jerks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the jeep stopped, the jerks all quickly started going down to the tune of the driver's yells, demanding that they pay fare. They ignored him and all Manong Driver could do was chase them with the evil eye and rant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last two students shook their heads, joined the evil eye look and ranted, ashamed they were wearing the same uniforms of the jerks. They payed their fare, almost guilty that they couldn't give Manong Driver the fare he lost and apologetically went down the jeep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to hug Manong Driver and the lovers but they were all smelly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4744826632513583994-1240567739887593755?l=paperpins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/feeds/1240567739887593755/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4744826632513583994&amp;postID=1240567739887593755' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/1240567739887593755'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/1240567739887593755'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/2008/01/bully-and-queer.html' title='Bully and The Queer'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818546965720884854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SeHa0VJIMiI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Vse5D3-f8yc/S220/RSCN8087.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4744826632513583994.post-6677390153534575190</id><published>2008-01-24T17:32:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T19:08:36.368+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='starving artist'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='burgis'/><title type='text'>MXT Moment</title><content type='html'>Sa pagnanasang magpayaman naman ng ibang &lt;a href="http://www.ccds.charlotte.nc.us/History/China/04/hutchins/hutchins.htm"&gt;Filipino-Chinese&lt;/a&gt; o insert your choice of businessman stereotype, again, Filipino-Chinese, tumungo kami sa ibang restaurant na nagbebenta din ng GMO pero mas may pretensyon na hindi nila ito ginagawa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gumastos ako ng isang daan at sampung piso para sa pagkaing &lt;a href="http://www.inthesetimes.com/article/3372/transgendered_behind_bars/"&gt;nilunod&lt;/a&gt; sa sabaw ng &lt;a href="http://www.babble.com/CS/blogs/strollerderby/archive/2007/11/03/disney-small-world-ride-sinking-under-weight-of-fat-people.aspx"&gt;pork&lt;/a&gt; and beans, mantika, at sabon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/R5hd6ElbbMI/AAAAAAAAABY/j0lnzPZiJNg/s1600-h/DSCN5139.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/R5hd6ElbbMI/AAAAAAAAABY/j0lnzPZiJNg/s320/DSCN5139.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158976625397427394" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mga konklusyon:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Pinayaman ko na lang dapat ang Burger King. Kahit na barado na ang dibdib ko sa pagkain nila, kahit papaano, mamamatay naman ako sa kasiyahan sa kanilang french fries. Only for ninety nine pesos!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Maaari akong idemanda ng mga Filipino-Chinese at MXT. Para saan nga lang? Wala naman akong pera.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Isang &lt;a href="http://dissentmagazine.org/article/?article=861"&gt;epektibong kasangkapan&lt;/a&gt; ang blog upang iparamdam sa gumagamit nito na mayroong mga taong may pakialam kung nasusuka siya sa pagkain ng mall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Ang mundo ng pagsusulat, kahit ba base pa sa katotohanan ay panaginip lamang. Nakalutang lang kasi ang katotohanan sa &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;posibilidad &lt;/span&gt;na mayroong may makikinig sa iyong &lt;a href="http://www.wired.com/wired/archive/14.11/sixwords.html"&gt;kwinekwento&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Bininyagan namin ang "MXT Moment" bilang terminong para sa kahit anong bagay na kadiri. Ebolusyon ng wika. Lahat ay nagmumula lamang sa &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;shared experience. &lt;/span&gt;Katulad lang sila ng pagsusulat. Mabubuo lang ang mundo sa pagsuporta ng mga bumubuo nito. Hanggang sa &lt;a href="http://www.lrb.co.uk/v29/n22/zize01_.html"&gt;ginagamit&lt;/a&gt; ang isang &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;bagay&lt;/span&gt;, nagiging &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;buhay &lt;/span&gt;ito. Kapag itinigil na, hanggang memorya na lang ang pag-asa ng bagay na ito.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Mai-a-apply din kaya ito sa pag-iral ng tao? Ang paghinga ba ang nagpapabuhay o kailangan pa ng suporta ng iba para sabihing umiiral ang tao? Kailangan bang shared experience din ang tao? Kung si PersonA at si PersonB ay shared experience si PersonC, kailangan pa ba ng paniniwala ni PersonC para masabing umiiral siya o sapat na sina PersonA at PersonB?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Bakit ko ito tinatanong kung sa tingin ko naman alam ko ang isasagot niyo?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Dahil sa &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;posibilidad &lt;/span&gt;lang naman ang kaalaman ko tungkol sa inyo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. At gagana lang ang teoryang ito kung ang tanging patakaran ay ang &lt;a href="http://introducingliston.blogspot.com/2007/04/seeds-of-manliness.html"&gt;pag-collapse&lt;/a&gt; ng mga barriers ng mga &lt;a href="http://www.film.com/celebrities/story/fivemensexierthanmattdamon/11784156/17382693"&gt;definition&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. At kung ito nga ang patakaran, hahantong tayo sa &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;panaginip lang naman ang lahat &lt;/span&gt;na slogan. Hahantong tayo sa malubuhang kaguluhan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Pero Eris, hindi ba &lt;a href="http://www.pinoyweekly.org/pw6-43/kult/kult_1.htm"&gt;Diyosa&lt;/a&gt; ka naman na noon pa?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/R5hrDElbbNI/AAAAAAAAABg/W9pfRWPDquc/s1600-h/DSCN5156.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/R5hrDElbbNI/AAAAAAAAABg/W9pfRWPDquc/s320/DSCN5156.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158991073667411154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4744826632513583994-6677390153534575190?l=paperpins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/feeds/6677390153534575190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4744826632513583994&amp;postID=6677390153534575190' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/6677390153534575190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/6677390153534575190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/2008/01/mxt-moment.html' title='MXT Moment'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818546965720884854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SeHa0VJIMiI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Vse5D3-f8yc/S220/RSCN8087.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/R5hd6ElbbMI/AAAAAAAAABY/j0lnzPZiJNg/s72-c/DSCN5139.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4744826632513583994.post-3479834899073358958</id><published>2008-01-03T20:19:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-01-05T11:03:12.357+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fic'/><title type='text'>Drawing Circles</title><content type='html'>I was nine years old when he first found me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sat on wet grass, drawing circles by clawing the soil with a fat twig. I didn't notice him until his left shoe stepped on one my circles. I looked up. He smiled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was as tall as the fancy buildings my Mama showed me in pictures. He was thin as the fat twig I was playing with. Dimples appeared below the corners of his mouth when he smiled. Papa used to tell me stories about him with his guitar--- Angels.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stood up, smoothed the wrinkles out of my soiled white skirt, and asked, "Will you marry me?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Angel patted my head. He told me that first, I have to wait nine more years and second, I had to have a name. He held out his hand and I grabbed greedily for it.  We walked. We floated. We glided. Before I knew it, we had left the comfort of trees and were in the cradle of bats.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lost The Angel's hand. I waved my hands, grasping air and darkness, then eventually, cowered from the shriek of the bats. He tried to call out to me amidst the noise. But he didn't knew my name. He held out his hand.  So I stood up, smoothed the wrinkles out of my soiled white skirt, and screamed, "Darla! I'm Darla!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I didn't realize I was squeezing blood out of a bat with my chubby fingers. So I cried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Angel found me, though, and he gently kissed the tears on my cheeks. He whispered sweets in a language my Mama wanted to teach me but I was too lazy to listen. I regretted not listening while I felt The Angel smile upon my right ear. I wanted to say that I love him in the language he was born in but I could only choke on my tears. He laughed. It was like listening to wind chimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hush, Darla dear," he said and held out his hand once more. I grabbed greedily for it. I knew I shouldn't. Because Papa used to tell me to be careful with Angels, because they're Heaven's grace and I should be careful when Heaven's giving grace. I used to giggle, pluck a string from Papa's guitar and tell him he was being silly. Papa hated being called silly. That was why I was always sitting on wet grass, drawing circles on the soil with a fat twig.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that was where we were walking back and it made my heart beat faster before sinking down the pits of my tummy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I glanced at the sky and counted the rays of the sun. Seven years had passed. I tugged The Angel's hand and asked again, "Will you marry me?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I heard wind chimes once again. "Two more years, Darla dear."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With that, he let go of my hand, leaving me sitting on wet grass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I was alone again. Clawing at damp soil with a fat twig that was rotting by the second. My eyes were now red and puffy. Always wary of a wandering shoe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was nine years old when he first found me. I should be eighteen for the second finding. But all I had was the stain of the blood of the bat. And the memory of the sun's rays, lying about the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I was alone always. I sat, drew, crinkled the wrinkles of my soggy white skirt and screamed, "Darla! I'm Darla! Darla! I'm Darla!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4744826632513583994-3479834899073358958?l=paperpins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/feeds/3479834899073358958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4744826632513583994&amp;postID=3479834899073358958' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/3479834899073358958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/3479834899073358958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/2008/01/drawing-circles.html' title='Drawing Circles'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818546965720884854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SeHa0VJIMiI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Vse5D3-f8yc/S220/RSCN8087.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4744826632513583994.post-5550315940203752438</id><published>2007-12-12T19:52:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-12-12T20:14:32.108+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fic'/><title type='text'>Ang Walang Saysay na Pako at Martilyo</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Magpapakita ang cursor. Mawawala ang cursor. Magpapakita. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Mawawala.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Ipipikit mo ang mga mata mo. Ididilat. Tititig. Sa puting espasyo. Espasyong sinisira ng cursor ang kapayapaan. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Lumalalim na ang linya sa pagitan ng mga mata mo. Nanginginig ang mga daliri, pananatiliin itong nakapatong sa keyboard. Habang nananakit ang mga mata mo. Masyado kasing maliwanag ang puting espasyo. Pero. May cursor. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Kumikindat ang cursor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;At hindi mo alam kung tatawa ka, o iiyak. At kahit sabay, hindi mo magawa ito kahit sabay. At. At. At. At wala.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Gusto mo sanang hulihin ang cursor. Pero.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Magpapakita. Mawawala. Kumikindat. Nangungutya. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Dahil hindi mo alam kung paano mang-huli. Dahil wala ka namang mahuhuli.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;Dahil huli ka na kasi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4744826632513583994-5550315940203752438?l=paperpins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/feeds/5550315940203752438/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4744826632513583994&amp;postID=5550315940203752438' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/5550315940203752438'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/5550315940203752438'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/2007/12/ang-walang-saysay-na-pako-at-martilyo.html' title='Ang Walang Saysay na Pako at Martilyo'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818546965720884854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SeHa0VJIMiI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Vse5D3-f8yc/S220/RSCN8087.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4744826632513583994.post-6187097283605774858</id><published>2007-11-25T18:01:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T19:08:37.762+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='joss whedon'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='buffy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='90&apos;s baby'/><title type='text'>Slaaave 4 U [SPOILERS]</title><content type='html'>Street children are begging. Wives and husbands are beating each other up. Sta. Claus is a racist. And I haven't studied (or just even read) for any of my subjects this week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And oh, I spent 330 pesosesoses. I bought issue two and three of Buffy comics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Orgasmic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/R0lN6y7f7zI/AAAAAAAAAA4/SdrOxw09jd8/s1600-h/threesome.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/R0lN6y7f7zI/AAAAAAAAAA4/SdrOxw09jd8/s320/threesome.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5136722522491842354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Literally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Issue one didn't draw me in this new form. Sure, I've read comics. Sure, I disagree with all the whiny people claiming comic-Buff characters don't look anything like the ones in TV. But Sir Joss, the verse IS different with a different form. I succumb to body and soul goes hand in hand. I mean, if I look like some white trash (from insert-college here, cough, cough,) I wouldn't be blogging here, for example. I'd probably have a social life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But no. I'm here getting it on with the digress-y.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhow, I didn't buy issue two because of issue one's lack of sparky-giving feeling capabilities. And also, because I don't have any money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But after months of poverty, selective amnesia, and plain "The mall's so far awaaaaay!" I finally had the chance, money, and just chance really because we passed by Comic Quest when my family took a little bonding time in Megamall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Issue two. Now, issue two! I was giggling and laughing, in public and waiting for a taxi, with issue two. The first turn-offs of issue one was overlooked just because of the oh so incomparable wit and secrets only Sir Joss can manage. Which issue one surprisingly lack but I'm blaming the adjusting period. Body and soul principle, remember?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And besides, issue one's surprise ending of Annoying Amy (probably the second most annoying next to Kennedy) didn't do anything for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But issue two's ending on the other hand,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/R0lSSS7f70I/AAAAAAAAABA/mxTuhXflD2I/s1600-h/fairy+tale+willow.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/R0lSSS7f70I/AAAAAAAAABA/mxTuhXflD2I/s320/fairy+tale+willow.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5136727324265279298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/R0lV9S7f72I/AAAAAAAAABQ/EGUrPBZ9EsY/s1600-h/powerful+willow.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/R0lV9S7f72I/AAAAAAAAABQ/EGUrPBZ9EsY/s320/powerful+willow.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5136731361534537570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;turned me, um, quite on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Willow + Corset = Always unbearable hotness... oh, and of course, love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/R0lT8y7f71I/AAAAAAAAABI/hFjqxz2GuBU/s1600-h/dark+willow.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/R0lT8y7f71I/AAAAAAAAABI/hFjqxz2GuBU/s320/dark+willow.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5136729153921347410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her Goddess' hotness would almost be enough to make me forget any flaw actually. But the one thing, one thing, I couldn't stand, is this Xander loves Buffy angle. AGAIN! Sheesh. Isn't this so season one?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well. I think they've already released up to ten issues (?) so I'd whine after this season is over. I hope I can buy the Angel comics. I'm really curious on how my heroes escaped that battle scene. (Here's to Ilyria hoping!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boy, these corporations really sucking the blood out of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I know, lame pun.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://the-royal-anna.livejournal.com/22963.html"&gt;LINKY 1&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"If I started drawing a comparison of the Buffy/Angel and the Buffy/Spike relationships, I'd go on forever, but in all honesty, I don't know that there's anything to be gained by it. I've seen so many discussions of which of the two Buffy loved more, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;but I don't know that we love in amounts. We love in ways.&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.darkhorse.com/news/interviews.php?id=1421"&gt;LINKY 2&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"DH: What was the first comic you ever bought? (Or what comics did you read as a kid?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;JW: I can't remember my first. I do remember seeing an &lt;i&gt;X-Men&lt;/i&gt; on the stands for twenty-five cents that said "Professor X is DEAD" and the now-famous "Not a hoax!" DC was "Still only twenty cents!," hamburgers were "a nickel!," and we had to walk "four miles through the snow!" to get to "school"! So much has changed . . ."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4744826632513583994-6187097283605774858?l=paperpins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/feeds/6187097283605774858/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4744826632513583994&amp;postID=6187097283605774858' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/6187097283605774858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/6187097283605774858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/2007/11/slaaave-4-u-spoilers.html' title='Slaaave 4 U [SPOILERS]'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818546965720884854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SeHa0VJIMiI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Vse5D3-f8yc/S220/RSCN8087.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/R0lN6y7f7zI/AAAAAAAAAA4/SdrOxw09jd8/s72-c/threesome.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4744826632513583994.post-806018317825162850</id><published>2007-11-19T19:46:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-11-19T20:53:04.794+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='starving artist'/><title type='text'>Conspicuously Incospicuous</title><content type='html'>Today, I had been singled out from a herd of &lt;a href="http://thearcadesproject6.multiply.com/journal/item/22/Tumakbo_ang_Amo"&gt;poser&lt;/a&gt; sheep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just what is it that draws a lion (or insert your choice of predator here) towards me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't pose enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I should shower myself with "Oh yes I do know that author!" And swim my way around to feigning I actually know what I'm talking about with the nodding, half-opened mouth, and direct eye contact. Talk about left leaning ideas and then model my way in a fancy cafe (or insert your choice of artsy fartsy gathering area here) as I celebrate with my co-artists the adrenaline rush of &lt;a href="http://www.blogniinday.com/"&gt;literature&lt;/a&gt; talk (again, your choice of trash).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, I rant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because, yes, go on please, loving &lt;a href="http://www.abs-cbnnews.com/storyPage.aspx?storyId=97889"&gt;(future) artists&lt;/a&gt; of my (dying) country. Without you, our country may as well not exist anyway for I truly, truly, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;truly, &lt;/span&gt;believe you can control it's &lt;a href="http://pikpakbum.multiply.com/journal/item/518/Alternate_Lyrics"&gt;culture&lt;/a&gt;... or attempt to, anyway.  But please. Please. Please? Do you have to test me? Do we have to name drop every chance we get? "Oh. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;That &lt;/span&gt;author. Are you sure?" Can we just all hug each other for our uncurable geekery?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah. &lt;a href="http://www.xanga.com/moritheil/510119861/light-light-heavy.html"&gt;The Circle&lt;/a&gt;. I sometimes feel that I'm on a game show. Always a test. Always that silly question sang by that poor &lt;a href="http://www.gmanews.tv/story/68561/Cristine-Reyes-files-slander-case-vs-Carlene-Aguilar"&gt;society fooled&lt;/a&gt; Korean girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Are you in or out?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what happens when I refuse to answer? What happens when I don't spray the perfume, hard enough to cover the smell? To keep away the lion?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What happens when I try to be &lt;a href="http://thinkexist.com/quotes/umberto_eco/2.html"&gt;authentic&lt;/a&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Predator and prey. You don't have to think hard.  Still, what differs The Circle's predator and prey dynamics from the usual?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In The Circle, it's personal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe they pounce on their preys because they can smell its weakness. They hate the weak ones. They hate it when people don't wear perfumes. They hate it that they have to smell themselves off other people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They need to get rid of us. Either we die or wear those stupid perfumes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because how dare we walk displaying who they are? How dare we walk without perfumes while they painstakingly spray it for hours, night and day? How dare we be self-conscious, displaying angst and not be like them?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How dare we be true?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;How dare we be trash&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4744826632513583994-806018317825162850?l=paperpins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/feeds/806018317825162850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4744826632513583994&amp;postID=806018317825162850' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/806018317825162850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/806018317825162850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/2007/11/conspicuously-incospicuous.html' title='Conspicuously Incospicuous'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818546965720884854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SeHa0VJIMiI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Vse5D3-f8yc/S220/RSCN8087.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4744826632513583994.post-3777277002216891596</id><published>2007-11-12T17:09:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-11-12T23:06:43.247+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='starving artist'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='burgis'/><title type='text'>Autopsied</title><content type='html'>I have three stories to share. Three. The amount doesn't really give it any value. In fact, my stories have no value at all. These are just stories &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I &lt;/span&gt;deem &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;interesting &lt;/span&gt;making it &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;my &lt;/span&gt;stories. But these are &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;just &lt;/span&gt;stories with absolutely &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;no value at all so why bother to &lt;a href="http://www.ericdigests.org/pre-9212/hype.htm"&gt;share&lt;/a&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;You might say, my imaginary reader, that you should be the judge of that. Well, if so, and if you haven't clicked the exit window button yet, I would first tell the stories before commenting on ... your judge-ness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, though not really in a chronological sense of what happened today, is my rant about my school's miscellaneous fee. Under it are the fees for "Library," "Medical" and such. But see, the thing I don't understand about it are the labels "Athletics" and "Cultural." Aside from I don't know where the hell I get or &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;learn &lt;/span&gt;these in school, I apparently have to pay shining seventy five &lt;a href="http://community.livejournal.com/thedailyshow/1609286.html"&gt;bucks&lt;/a&gt; for "Athletics" and fifty for "Cultural." The only theory that I can come up with is that &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I am paying for an invisible gym and I was asleep when they passed the law about paying for one's own culture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Now that &lt;a href="http://www.ccds.charlotte.nc.us/History/China/04/hutchins/hutchins.htm"&gt;makes sense&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it makes a little less sense when compared to the moment my head turned exorcist-style because I saw a woman coming out from a  men's restroom. My thoughts at that time were,  "Have I actually finished enrolling?  It's not at as hellish as before. So it can't be true. Maybe I'm forgetting something and I need to have something signed. Don't be silly, Claire, and stop moving your lips. You're not just thinking this, you're talking to yourself. Again. And if people start--- that's a pretty hot girl. With glasses. Definitely a hot girl wearing a cool jacket while your armpits sweat like hell. Because yes, in heaven we don't sweat... And holy... fuck. Did she just come from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;there?&lt;/span&gt; Wait. Is she a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;he&lt;/span&gt;? Well then, he definitely makes a hot she. And vice versa. Stop looking back! She, I mean, he would notice. No, wait. I think he's a she again... Yes, definitely a she. I think I saw boobs. Yes, those look a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;lot &lt;/span&gt;like &lt;a href="http://elysesewell.livejournal.com/2004/12/11/"&gt;boobs&lt;/a&gt;. She's really hot especially with her hair all messy. Her hair all messy. Messy hair. The light bulb above my head should be popping up just about now. Oh, her &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;friend &lt;/span&gt;came from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;there &lt;/span&gt;too... There's the light bulb."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;For all I know, she didn't want to fall in line in the women's restroom. Or a cross-dresser. It really doesn't matter. Only that these thoughts went through my head in about five seconds and I've blogged about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't it what this is all about? Me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The third and final story, and yes this time in a chronological sense of what happened today, answers a scream of yes to that. It's a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paperpins.multiply.com"&gt;personal&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/span&gt;story. About me being indecisive. About me being weird in front of people who have no idea on the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;why &lt;/span&gt;and the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;how &lt;/span&gt;and the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;huh&lt;/span&gt;. Only the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;what&lt;/span&gt;. But still not making it sufficient to give them the slightest clue. If you yourself, my imaginary reader, "personally" know me, then you only have the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;what &lt;/span&gt;which is your only clue that isn't a clue really. It's nothing. Even if I tell you that this story involves a battle of racing thoughts inside my head, it doesn't give any, any, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;any &lt;/span&gt;idea on the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;whole &lt;/span&gt;thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In short, the clue that I gave you is nothing because it's a crappy clue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if you, my imaginary reader, don't even "personally" know me, then I predict that you think that my third and final story is the crappiest from the three.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you are probably right. No. Make that absolutely right. And it hurts that you are absolutely right about the third story because it's the most &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;personal &lt;/span&gt;story. Meaning &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; am crappy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;But you are &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;the &lt;/span&gt;judge, my imaginary reader. You give value to my stories. And with these being personal because of it being my experience, or creation, or reflection--- my organization of what &lt;a href="http://www.inthesetimes.com/article/3406/the_new_road_to_serfdom/"&gt;reality&lt;/a&gt; is&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;or isn't,&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;then &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I am also my stories. &lt;/span&gt;And you have to judge me to be of value.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am only a potential value. Or a potential crap. I am only a potential until I am read. I am nothing without you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't bother to share. Because I, the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;personal&lt;/span&gt;, just lie there. When you, my imaginary reader, reads it, you decide for me. You make me &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;public&lt;/span&gt;. You decide that I share. You &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;bother &lt;/span&gt;for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4744826632513583994-3777277002216891596?l=paperpins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/feeds/3777277002216891596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4744826632513583994&amp;postID=3777277002216891596' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/3777277002216891596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/3777277002216891596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/2007/11/autopsied.html' title='Autopsied'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818546965720884854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SeHa0VJIMiI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Vse5D3-f8yc/S220/RSCN8087.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4744826632513583994.post-7919797527719724611</id><published>2007-11-05T01:00:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-11-05T01:15:52.849+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='burgis'/><title type='text'>Archetype This</title><content type='html'>I've heard and read thousands of reviews telling how this piece of movie/book/shit is good because people can identify with its fictional characters. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;But isn't that always the case? B1 falls in love with B2-- thousands, no, gazillions know the feeling. B1 has to choose between career/family/B3... and B2-- again, gazillions. B4 wants to die because B1, B2, and B3 are all so full of each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No matter how many details we put in, at least three thousand people can say, "Oh my fucking god, I just know that feeling!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If we can identify with them, and they can identify with us, do we even have any identity left?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4744826632513583994-7919797527719724611?l=paperpins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/feeds/7919797527719724611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4744826632513583994&amp;postID=7919797527719724611' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/7919797527719724611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/7919797527719724611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/2007/11/archetype-this.html' title='Archetype This'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818546965720884854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SeHa0VJIMiI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Vse5D3-f8yc/S220/RSCN8087.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4744826632513583994.post-7217369966997737715</id><published>2007-11-02T09:11:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-11-02T12:25:41.372+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='90&apos;s baby'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='burgis'/><title type='text'>Pers Taym Neber Days</title><content type='html'>Matagal-tagal naming inabangan ni kasin ang paglabas ng &lt;a href="http://randyvaliente.blogspot.com/2005/05/pirata.html"&gt;pirata&lt;/a&gt; ng Maskman. Noon pa naming inaasahang lumabas ito ng ibalik ng &lt;a href="http://mikeabundo.com/2007/05/09/gma-to-destroy-shaider/"&gt;GMA7&lt;/a&gt; si &lt;a href="http://img183.imageshack.us/img183/3261/annie1821da655eo8.jpg"&gt;Shaider&lt;/a&gt; pero natutunan namin na hindi ka talaga puwedeng umasa sa mga korporasyong nakatali lang din sa ibang korporasyon, mas ispesipiko-- &lt;a href="http://www.globalenvision.org/library/8/517/"&gt;Amerika&lt;/a&gt;. Ang kaya lang tuloy ibigay sa'min ay ang mga walang katuturang bersyon ng Power Rangers kung saan wala pa ring ikukumpara ang kanilang mga special effects sa 80's-90's na Sentai. Sinubukan kong panoorin ang mga Power Rangers na ito (mas ispesipiko, ang Ninja Storm) pero kahit na pinaliguan nila ako ng sandamukal na robot, flashing lights, at o sige, &lt;a href="http://www.rangercentral.com/prns-rg-dustin.htm"&gt;cute na mga artista&lt;/a&gt;, hindi pa rin nila naiparamdam ang kilig na ang mga sinaunang Sentai lang ang nakakapagbigay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maaaring nostalgia lang ang lahat. Pero bakit iba ang kilig na dinulot ng &lt;a href="http://www.rovang.org/sentai/maskman.htm"&gt;Maskman&lt;/a&gt; kaysa ng mapanood ko muli ang &lt;a href="http://www.rovang.org/sentai/bioman.htm"&gt;Bioman&lt;/a&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sa lahat ng makukulay na "bayaning" sinubaybayan ko noon (at mukhang hanggang ngayon din naman, salamat sa You Tube), ispesyal ang Maskman dahil ino-overread ko ito. Sinasabi kong mayroon itong katalinuhan sa anyo at laman. Sa anyo dahil obvious naman ang ine-establish na plot sa pilot episodes. Para bang pinaghandaan ang ending (hindi tulad ng Bioman na pakiramdam ko'y pinagdesisyunan na lang ang katapusan dahil gwapo ang anak ni Dr. Man). Kahit na ba state-the-obvious ang mga linya, sumusubok na magkaroon ng complexity ang palabas. Hindi ba nakamamangha ang kalabang si Oyobur?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i29.photobucket.com/albums/c286/clarapotpot/mask-oyobur.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://i29.photobucket.com/albums/c286/clarapotpot/mask-oyobur.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ang kalabang nagpapaalala sa'kin kay Satanas. Ang kalabang napakabilis kumilos at hindi gumagalaw ang bibig kapag nagsasalita. Pambata dapat itong palabas pero mayroon silang karakter na kahit hanggang ngayon, binbansagan ko pa ring "creepy." May elementong horror ang Maskman. Ang mga kalaban nila ay galing sa ilalim ng lupa. May intertextuality ng impyernong nagli-leak-out sa mundo ng tao. Marami ring references sa fairy tales nang matanggal ang sapatos ni Rio (Mio) at ang mahabang pagtulog niya sa kulungan ng yelo. Pantasya (aspektong romansa dahil sa fairy tales), relihiyon (aura power), horror (mga demonyong kalaban), at sci-fi (pokus sa teknolohiya at mga robot). Lahat ng ito'y matatagpuan sa isang "pipitsuging" palabas, sa isang lumang Sentai. Na oo, napakaraming katangahan ng mga linya  pero patuloy pa ring nakaka-engganyo ng mga manonood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dito ko ipapasok ang pag-ooverread ko ng laman. Maraming "struggle" sa Maskman. Bigyang pokus natin ang paborito ko, ang &lt;a href="http://www.inthesetimes.com/article/3372/transgendered_behind_bars/"&gt;kasarian&lt;/a&gt;. Nagpanggap si Igamu na siya'y isang lalaki para maging magiting na mandirigma at para sa karangalan ng kanyang angkan. Nang mabansagang traydor ang kanyang kakambal, binuhos niya ang buhay sa pagsubok na linisin ang pangalan ng kanyang angkan, na mapuri ng kanilang pinunong si Zeba. Subalit hindi naman si Zeba ang tunay na nararapat sa trono kundi siya. Nang kanyang aminin sa kanyang sarili ang kanyang identidad, at ang pagkababae, natulugnan niya ang kanyang kakambal upang talunin si Zeba. Gano'n din naman ang kakambal niyang si Rio. Halos buong palabas, siya ang &lt;a href="http://www.isiswomen.org/wia/wia302/undress.htm"&gt;damsel-in-distress&lt;/a&gt;. Pero nang kinailangan niya ng mamili sa dulo, pinili niya ang "mas mabigat" na responsibilidad ng pagiging bagong emperatris (reyna) ng kaharian sa ilalim ng lupa kaysa sa pag-ibig.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sa isang feel-good na palabas, malaking hakbang ang hindi pagkakatuluyan nina Michael Joe (Takeru) at Rio sa ending.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kung itutuloy ko pa ang aking pag-o-overread, kakailanganin ko na naman sigurong gumawa ng bagong blog. Mayroon din naman sigurong struggle sa ngayong pinagtatawanan at tinutulugan kong Bioman, at iba pang katulad na mga palabas na mahal ko na lamang dahil kasama sila sa aking childhood. Pero bakit sa lahat ng mga Sentai, Maskman lang ang may ganitong epekto? Simple at corny lang-- "Nainlab ako e."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Makikita sa mga susunod na magugustuhan kong "literatura" na inevitable ang pagkahumaling ko sa Maskman. Pantasya, horror, relihiyon/pilosopiya at &lt;a href="http://space.newscientist.com/article.ns?id=dn11172&amp;amp;print=true"&gt;sci-fi&lt;/a&gt; sa iisang palabas? Wala na siguro akong ibang pinangarap pa. Marami akong pwedeng ilistang dahilan, kagalingan, kung bakit ito ang mga gusto kong "literatura" pero lahat naman talaga ng literatura ay hawak-hawak ang mga nililista ko. Kung mag-o-overread. Kaya naman ang tanging tanong lang talaga ay bakit ito ang ino-overread ko? At iyon lang siguro ang pwede kong isagot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inlab.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ang mga ililista kong dahilan sa Maskman ay maaari ko rin namang ilista, kunwari, sa &lt;a href="http://elisi.livejournal.com/179224.html"&gt;Buffy the Vampire Slayer&lt;/a&gt;. Kung gayon, parang Maskman pa rin ang pinapanood ko tuwing manonood ako ng Buffy the Vampire Slayer. O ng Sailor Moon, Mask Rider Black, Yami no Matsuei, You're Under Arrest, Veronica Mars... Makakahanap at makakahanap ako ng mga similarities sa kanila. Mahahanap at mahahanap ko ang Maskman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At ngayong bente na ako, at nanonood ng Maskman, nahahanap ko ang Buffy, Sailor Moon, Veronica Mars, atbp. sa Maskman. Kanino ba talaga ako inlab?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nostalgia ng pagiging inlab. Sinabi kong marahil nostalgia lang ang lahat. Oo, hindi lang ito ang aspektong nagpapakilig pero nostalgia na lang ba ang dahilan ng pagiging espesyal ng pagka-inlab sa Maskman? Paano ba ide-define ang &lt;a href="http://www.m-w.com/dictionary/nostalgia"&gt;nostalgia&lt;/a&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Masakit ang nostalgia pero kinakapitan pa rin ito. Kasi masaya? Kasi masarap? Meroon akong nabasang maikling kwentong nagsasabing mga burgis lang ang nakakaranas ng nostalgia. Hindi nga naman ito kakailanganin ng mga skwater. Wala naman silang permanenteng bahay-- nakaraan. Palipat-lipat kasi. Ang mga nakakaranas naman ng nostalgia, nakabuo ng permanenteng nakaraan. Permanente din siguro sa mas marami pang bagay. Permanente dahil dinadala hanggang sa pagtanda. Nagkaroon na ng posisyon sa mundo bilang &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;nauna&lt;/span&gt; kahit naman wala na dapat saysay ang pagiging una. May saysay ba ang pagiging una kung ito lang naman ang "kahulugang" maghihiwalay sa iba pang trigger ng nostalgia?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nang ikwento ng kaibigan ko ang unang pagkakataong nakipag-sex siya, ang tanong ko agad ay "Masakit ba?" Nagkibit-balikat siya at sinabing masarap naman. &lt;a href="http://www.somethingawful.com/d/your-band-sucks/how-fake-it.php"&gt;"Cool"&lt;/a&gt; pa nga ang setting at ang unang beses niya ang tipong pinapangarap ng mga lola na adbentyur na ikwekwento sa mga apo. Pero ang isa ko namang kaibigan, pinagbawalan pa akong makipag-sex. Masakit daw. Sa katunayan, nagdugo siya.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lagi naman ganito ang mga kwento tungkol sa sex. Masarap o masakit lang. At sigurado akong narinig ng dalawa kong kaibigan ang mga kwentong ganito bago sila makipag-sex. Pero ginawa pa rin nila. Kahit na ba may elemento ang mga &lt;a href="http://www.pamf.org/teen/sex/virginity/notdoingit.html"&gt;mito&lt;/a&gt; (na napatunayang katotohan ng isa) ng aspektong pagdudugo. Malakas ang pagnanasa na magka-unang beses. Ganito ito kabigat. Sa katunayan, ganito kabigat at pinili nilang itong elemento ng kanilang sex life ang ikwento sa'kin. Hindi ang pangalawa, hindi ang pangatlong beses. Ang una.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At hindi ba itong una ang dadalhin nilang experience sa pangalawa at pangatlo. At kung gano'n, nakikipagsex lang ba sila ulit sa unang naka-sex nila? At kung bababalikan ang alaala, ang mukha ng unang naka-sex ay mapapalitan na rin ba ng kasalukuyang ka-sex?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kanino na ba sila, tayo, nakikipag-sex? Kay Rio o kay Buffy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kay nostalgia?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ang pagnasasa, ang pag-abang, ang pagpili, ang paulit-ulit na una, ang nostalgia-- Nainlab ako e.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4744826632513583994-7217369966997737715?l=paperpins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/feeds/7217369966997737715/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4744826632513583994&amp;postID=7217369966997737715' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/7217369966997737715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/7217369966997737715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/2007/11/pers-taym-neber-days.html' title='Pers Taym Neber Days'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818546965720884854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SeHa0VJIMiI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Vse5D3-f8yc/S220/RSCN8087.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4744826632513583994.post-8475602933196344591</id><published>2007-10-31T23:03:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-10-31T23:31:25.889+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='starving artist'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='burgis'/><title type='text'>Coffee's brewin'</title><content type='html'>When someone finally takes your writing seriously, what do you do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Panic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suggest talking about it. A lot. In an angsty way. Too bad I made a pact with Darla never to smoke again. (As if &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I smoke...&lt;/span&gt;) Therefore, coffee shops. They legitimize your angst. There's something about it that makes you feel that you are absolutely making sense and not talking crap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just wish that outside it, I can feel the same way. Or at least do something about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Panic again, I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because wow. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://clarapotpot.multiply.com/journal/item/192"&gt;I'm used to coffee shops?&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Did I just take a leap forward or back?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still panicking so maybe it's sideways.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4744826632513583994-8475602933196344591?l=paperpins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/feeds/8475602933196344591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4744826632513583994&amp;postID=8475602933196344591' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/8475602933196344591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/8475602933196344591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/2007/10/coffees-brewin.html' title='Coffee&apos;s brewin&apos;'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818546965720884854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SeHa0VJIMiI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Vse5D3-f8yc/S220/RSCN8087.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4744826632513583994.post-5487550270553715694</id><published>2007-10-31T02:07:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2007-10-31T02:21:48.074+08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fic'/><title type='text'>Cross the Parallel</title><content type='html'>Since I have no more hope for this flash fic, I'm going to post it here. :) Besides, it kinda captures the whole point of this blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To past Clara: foreshadowing much? :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;Every night, she slams her knapsack on her bed, opens up a bottle of Lipovitan from the ref, combs her hair and talks to the mirror.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;“Sucks to be you.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;She points at her mirror and waits for it to answer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;It never does.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;The mirror only knows a few phrases. Aside from the one she said tonight, the others are “You have no money” and “They don’t like you” and “Die, bitch, die”.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;She’s not goth. She hates black and everyone knows her as The Perkiest Girl You’ll Ever Meet.  Yet every night, she goes home muttering to her mirror.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;She finishes her Lipovitan and stares. She notices her thinning hair, her ever more noticeable scalp. Shrugging, she walks towards the trashcan and throws the bottle in. The bottle shatters.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;Ooops.   She stares at the big pointy pieces. Apparently, she doesn’t know her own strength. She contemplates cleaning it, but realizes it’s already in the trash can. Giggling, she walks back to her mirror.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;“You have no money.”   She starts looking for money in her pocket. She finds some and puts it back.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;“They don’t like you,” she says. No echoes, only the sound of the ringing phone follows her voice. She waits for it to ring three more times.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;“Hello,” she says brightly into the receiver.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;“Raine?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;She racks her brains.  Who, among her millions of adoring female fans, does the voice belong to? She doesn’t understand it herself. Guys find her hot enough to dream about having sex with her but it’s only the girls who actually fall in love with her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;And do something about it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;But this voice, this is the persistent voice. Sunshine, she finally remembers. Of course it’s her.  The one who has been calling her every night.  The one who’s been destroying her ritual.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;“Yes, yes,” she says, and starts chatting animatedly away. She likes Sunshine. Not like, as in like-like. But like. Sunshine’s the only one who can match her perkiness.  Surprisingly, it doesn’t annoy her. They share the same taste in music, they go out every weekend to watch movies and they even have long walks at the mall, talking about the cosmic plan of the universe, just like in the few sappy movies they watch.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;Sunshine starts confessing her undying love for her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;“Excuse me?”  She pulls the phone with her as she walks to the front of her mirror. She’s been through this before. Girls confessing, she refusing, girls crying. But she likes Sunshine and doesn’t want her to cry. She can’t love her though. It’s not her fault. She just can’t love her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;“Sucks to be you,” she mouths in front of the mirror as Sunshine starts babbling.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;“You… You don’t have to, you know, feel the same way. I… I just— ”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;“Shine, can you hold for a sec?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;She puts the phone down on the floor, takes her knapsack, walks out of her room then walks back in. She slams her knapsack back on the bed. She grabs a bottle of Lipovitan from the ref and then a comb from her dresser.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;She points at her mirror, pleads for it to talk.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;It never does.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;She drinks the whole bottle and listens to it crash onto the floor. She doesn’t have to stare at the big pointy pieces, she knows they are there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;The Raine in the mirror tilts her head sideways. The Raine in the mirror hears Raine’s last ritual phrase, “Die, bitch, die.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;Mirror Raine doesn’t say anything.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;She never does.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;Mirror Raine steps out of the mirror and picks up the phone on the floor. She cradles the receiver with her shoulder and pushes the broken pieces of bottle towards the corner of the room with her shoe. She puts in a mental note to sweep it later.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;“Shine, I do feel the same way.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;“Really?” Sunshine squeaks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;“I guess feelings change.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;“How come?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;“I don’t know. But I think I like black now, too. I mean, I just adore it.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;She mouths the few phrases she knows in front of the mirror.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;She smiles but doesn’t see it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;She has no reflection.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4744826632513583994-5487550270553715694?l=paperpins.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/feeds/5487550270553715694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4744826632513583994&amp;postID=5487550270553715694' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/5487550270553715694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4744826632513583994/posts/default/5487550270553715694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://paperpins.blogspot.com/2007/10/cross-parallel.html' title='Cross the Parallel'/><author><name>Claire</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08818546965720884854</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Tyq2n4x126M/SeHa0VJIMiI/AAAAAAAAAD8/Vse5D3-f8yc/S220/RSCN8087.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
