9/13/2004
Over the weekend
With the way the week went, it felt like forever since I last watched a UAAP men’s basketball game. To some degree, yes.
I was supposed to see Conspiracy Theory Phase One unfold right before my eyes last Thursday, but I had to reluctantly accompany a groupmate for an interview with an environmentalist lawyer in uptown Quezon City for our Investigative Writing documentary (more on this later).
Nevertheless, I witnessed Conspiracy Theory Phase Two live at the Araneta Coliseum last Saturday. It’s just a delight to look at a quiet and stunned Ateneo crowd. They look like a lost mob. All fired up but nowhere to go.
Also, had an unusual food binge starting last Friday, which elicited doubtful stares from my mom. Where have I been eating if I don’t masticate at home?
Also had a weird episode with Billy Joe over the phone.
Actually, I don’t know where to start. My ‘adventure’ begins as early as Wednesday. Might as well start there.
-----
When’s the day?
My night-dream cycle was rudely interrupted by my brother. Forgot what it was about.
This certain Kabarka-Damo tv station is really getting on my nerves (Ah… Teneans = Ateneo = open lots = lots of grass = damo. Now I get it!).
The week before, they started The Amazing Race an hour earlier. It just seems I could not outwit them.
Had to endure an hour’s worth of a rigged countdown called the MYX Daily Top Ten. Haven’t you noticed that more than half of the songs in the tally are from ABS-CBN talents? Just had to change channels. Thank God for a ‘jumped’ Cavite Home Cable account.
Saw the last two minutes of the Washington Mystics and the Sacramento Monarchs game. It was close. Then there’s the Jennifer Capriati-Serena Williams US Open fourth round match.
Am not really a believer of the “underdog should always win” phrase (I’m a fan of Michael Schumacher and Ferrari, remember?). But there is a certain sense of achievement when a giant falls and David (not Coulthard) wins.
The setting: Flushing Meadows, New York. Women’s US Open tennis, two of the best in the world (Maria Sharapova lost during the weekend, see the tv ratings drop?). Third set. Capriati already ahead, 2-1. Somewhere along the way, she broke serve.
They were both holding serves. Capriati’s long game is frustrating Williams as the latter made unforced error after another, either hitting net or going out. On the other hand, Williams’ power is just simply… overpowering. Her shots forced Jennifer to scramble for the ball and make a wild return that would sail unto the stands.
Capriati ahead, 5-4, her serve. A portent of things to come. The judge screams “Out” when Williams’ volley was on the line. Twice more it happened, one barely hitting the sideline. The officials out there were like UAAP basketball referees… consistently calling thin and consistently calling it wrong.
The fans were cheering lustily while the commentators were in disgust after watching the computer graphic replays. With the help of modern technology, it’s a sacrilege of the sport, according to them. Then again, I would be privy to more sports sacrileges, with or without the utilization of technology, as the week winds.
In the end, Capriati won, 2-6, 6-4, 6-4. Soloflite, could you double check the scores for me?
Finally, finally. The Amazing Race begins. Let me see if I could do an ‘article’ about it.
Twins Kami and Karli finally got eliminated as Colin and Christie notched first place and another vacation package while Brandon and Nicole survived Hell’s Gate in their Detour to finish third in the New Zealand pitstop of The Amazing Race.
Good enough for a lead paragraph. That wasn’t so hard.
After that, went straight to John Doe. Something tells me I missed an episode. I was suddenly lost in the scheme of things. Oh yeah, he was searching for his identity.
Just had to stay longer to watch the greatest hoax of all time. But this is reserved for another topic. Clue: it has something to do with Americans and Earth’s only natural satellite.
Went to school, had a late lunch with Xyldrae. Did our Heraldo Filipino rounds. Went to Palaruang La Salle to look for people. Had a round of 21. Lost to Xyldrae. Don’t know why and don’t know how. Must be because of the lighter women’s basketball.
Talked to DLS-D swimming coach Ben Luna about his daughter Grace (No, not the same Grace Luna, thank you.) and his dog schitzu. Xyld’s said he’s full of bull.
Passed by the oval en route to the office. Had a little chitchat with the DLS-D track team. Also jogged around the innermost lane. Completed the revolution in two minutes somewhat. I should do this more.
Just in time, I caught my band, Livewire, onstage at Kantahan, Tugtugan, Sayawan 7. One word: flat. This band definitely has some issues with identity. Nothing against the current band head, but Peter Alvarez was more democratic during his term last year. He lets the vocalists have their say with the set list, while he also consults the guitarists on what to play or how the arrangement would go.
For someone as boyish as her, she does throw me off with her musical taste. And having a narrow-minded girlfriend such as EJ’s doesn’t help the situation a little bit. Those who are in the band know what I’m talking about. It’s Yoko Ono rearing her ugly head again.
And someone told me the better bands played earlier. Argh!
It’s also because of this KTS that I set myself up to Thursday’s miss-adventure. Saw IWrite group leader Malou Gregorio among the crowd. A fellow groupmate of mine chanced upon me in the HF office and she told me offhand that she couldn’t accompany Malou for our group’s scheduled interview tomorrow.
Upon seeing Malou, I approached and relayed to her what my groupmate told me earlier. Holding back her frustration, she asked me to accompany her to borrow Efren Camaisa’s video camera, and at the same time tag along with her to her appointment the following day, which I could not decline because I haven’t done anything significant in our documentary yet.
That’s done. On to Thursday…
-----
T-horiffic Thursday
Was rudely woken up by my brother again.
Before handing me the last downpayment for my tuition, he castigated me about the dole outs I’m asking from my mom. Hey, is it my fault that almost every subject I’m taking up right now requires me to shell out 20 bucks every week?
I still say money is a pretty petty thing to fight over. Here I am trying to help myself by going to hell lots of rakets (eg, uaapgames.com) just to sustain myself and I get a lashing for doing so and letting my ‘main’ priorities get waylaid every now and then.
Nevertheless, still needed the untimely alarm clock. Have to meet Malou at Baclaran.
Upon arriving, I saw my other groupmate (the original groupmate who was supposed to accompany her) with Malou in a store trying to have their cellular phones reloaded with credits.
I should have slept instead.
We’re supposed to arrive early so as not to keep the interviewee waiting. Apparently, he had a meeting that morning and another one popped up after lunch.
This made my other groupmate furious and she started ranting why people in authority keep less prominent people in need on hold. Malou ordered her to zip it, while I tried as hard as I could to catch on sleep. When I have less than eight hours of shuteye, I am grungier than usual and I am pissed off at minute things.
To look at the positive, at least we were already there and now is not the time to back out. We traveled hell lots of miles just to get there. Let’s just get it over and done with. Yes, that was my mindset that day, get it over and done with.
We were in the lounge for five hours or so, being entertained by the receptionist, who was also a Communications graduate. Her name’s Cathy and a product of University of the East Caloocan. Sorry, no UAAP connections there.
She was accommodating, comparing notes with our experiences. Not much difference. Just means that the Communication Arts program of DLS-D sucks.
Finally had the interview, which lasted vaguely only about 20 minutes or so. After all it’s done, found a way to grab Cathy’s numbers… landline numbers, silly.
*Cue in NBA Live commentator*
He shoots… and he scores…
*Cue off*
Got to see the last two minutes of Conspiracy Theory Phase One on tv in Baclaran on the way home. Couldn’t believe at the score. 81-56 with still a minute to go. Left with a big smirk on my face. Didn’t finish the game.
Arrived in Imus earlier than usual. Still had time to ‘talk’ with Jasmine Payo using our helper’s cell (Would you believe that I don’t have my own unit while my brother’s in-house helper has a lent Nokia 5110?).
*Cue in NBA Live commentator*
He shoots… and he scores…
*Cue off*
A nice sendoff to Lala-land.
-----
Fried-day
Woken up by my brother, this time necessary. Although I don’t have class (The fourth years… the CAD profs, I mean, decided to give the seniors a ‘field trip’ to different broadsheet offices.), I might use the time off to make a headstart in laying out HF Sports.
I decided to spend more time on bed instead. Which my brother (and I think also my mom) eventually found out. More cannon fodder for later. Moms and their natural radars: It never fails.
Did nothing much except make fun of UAAP basketball teams’ and players’ names with Xyldrae and an unsuspecting companion in Gerard. Can he actually relate to what we’re talking about? I mean, he’s just a quasi-sportswriter for a week and we were having uber-inside UAAP jokes.
Saw Ed after Blind Date and The Fifth Wheel over at ETC. Light, but not wacky. Ally McBeal for men. And I could oh-so relate with Tom Cavanagh’s character right now.
Now that I mentioned it, it’s already actually Saturday.
-----
Sat-my-day
For most of the time, yes, I was seated except when I was riding the LRT-2 line on the way to Araneta Coliseum and the MRT while accompanying Elaigh home.
Oh yeah, couldn’t forget the episode when I had to ‘usher’ four companions from Upper B to Patron using my ‘clout’ (read: press ID). Yes, I’m giving away ideas for free. Let’s see if you have the guts to actually do it.
An Atene-rant: How come is it only Ateneans who have the gall to occupy the Press Row? We should be requiring on who would ever seat there to write an article about the game. That should stop them hoarding the places that were destined for us.
Conspiracy Theory Phase Two: Complete. FEU men’s basketball coach Koy Banal knows more than what he’s saying, but then again, that would be stating the obvious. You wouldn’t want to be caught as the whistleblower against ABS-CBN’s grand plans of rigging UAAP men’s cage games.
This comment after the game should be a dead give-away:
“Naniniwala ako na both of us (teams) wanted to win.”
No one questions that. The issue here is whether someone asked the ‘other team’ to drop the game.
Then there’s this classic in the same post-game interview.
“Sa palagay ko, advantage sa amin ang ma-extend sa game three ang (Ateneo-De La Salle) series. O bakit, sigurado na ba kami? Hindi pa, ‘no. Kailangan pa nga namin manalo sa UE.”
Slip of the tongue? Backtracking, eh? Washing your hands?
“It’s safe to say na ma-extend siya (into game three).”
There you go… But then again, if you are into my three-pronged conspiracy theory, this is just stating the obvious.
Going back into the game at hand, for a moment there, everybody’s on the belief system that Ateneo might win this one with the way the referees were calling, especially in the first half. But Lopez and company always takes precedence.
-----
Sunday, bloodier than the usual
Was rudely interrupted for the fifth straight day, this time by Billy Joe. The day before, it was Elaigh.
Why he had to call me up while he was intoxicated sure beats me. For most of the time, he was just cussing everybody, speaking in straight English, and was getting pissed off at my retorts. That is so not the Bjoe that I know of.
Chalk one more reason for ‘Why JP shouldn’t drink alcohol’.
While in front of the PC, trying to organize my thoughts, my brother had to call my attention. His stern body language gave it away.
“Ano ‘to?” he sarcastically asked while handing me last semester’s certificate of grades. I need not elaborate.
“Gusto mo pa bang mag-aral?” he bellowed while slamming his hands onto the nearest table. It was all downhill from there.
Actually, I wanted to be a smart aleck and reply with a dignified “NO.” But then, that would just another can of worms and I would just be digging a bigger hole than I couldn’t possibly get out of. As it is, I am in a rut right now.
If he stays true to his word that starting next sem I would fund my education, then that just means one thing: stop. I am zilch, nada, zero, flat broke, bankrupt right now.
Again, let me reiterate that I tried ways during this ongoing semester to alleviate myself from poverty. I guess I was just overwhelmed by my so-called responsibilities.
Choose my poison: If money’s not going to stop from continuing my education by November, either my current status (24 units worth of accumulated failure and counting) or my ‘case’ with the Institutional Discipline Office would (Being caught not wearing the prescribed for five times during your whole stay does actually count as insubordination?).
Either way, fuck my brother and fuck De La Salle. Fuck me also for being such a fucking burden to my fucking family. I am so fucking frustrated with myself when I shouldn’t be. I mean, I am happy as it is. Or maybe I don’t feel the sting yet.
Nevertheless, fuck life.
Now I sound like a drunk Bjoe. One more reason ‘Why JP doesn’t need to drink alcohol’. I don’t need an 80-proof bottle or drugs or cigarettes for me to lash the whole world. I am good at it even when I am sober and in my proper faculties.
I was supposed to see Conspiracy Theory Phase One unfold right before my eyes last Thursday, but I had to reluctantly accompany a groupmate for an interview with an environmentalist lawyer in uptown Quezon City for our Investigative Writing documentary (more on this later).
Nevertheless, I witnessed Conspiracy Theory Phase Two live at the Araneta Coliseum last Saturday. It’s just a delight to look at a quiet and stunned Ateneo crowd. They look like a lost mob. All fired up but nowhere to go.
Also, had an unusual food binge starting last Friday, which elicited doubtful stares from my mom. Where have I been eating if I don’t masticate at home?
Also had a weird episode with Billy Joe over the phone.
Actually, I don’t know where to start. My ‘adventure’ begins as early as Wednesday. Might as well start there.
-----
When’s the day?
My night-dream cycle was rudely interrupted by my brother. Forgot what it was about.
This certain Kabarka-Damo tv station is really getting on my nerves (Ah… Teneans = Ateneo = open lots = lots of grass = damo. Now I get it!).
The week before, they started The Amazing Race an hour earlier. It just seems I could not outwit them.
Had to endure an hour’s worth of a rigged countdown called the MYX Daily Top Ten. Haven’t you noticed that more than half of the songs in the tally are from ABS-CBN talents? Just had to change channels. Thank God for a ‘jumped’ Cavite Home Cable account.
Saw the last two minutes of the Washington Mystics and the Sacramento Monarchs game. It was close. Then there’s the Jennifer Capriati-Serena Williams US Open fourth round match.
Am not really a believer of the “underdog should always win” phrase (I’m a fan of Michael Schumacher and Ferrari, remember?). But there is a certain sense of achievement when a giant falls and David (not Coulthard) wins.
The setting: Flushing Meadows, New York. Women’s US Open tennis, two of the best in the world (Maria Sharapova lost during the weekend, see the tv ratings drop?). Third set. Capriati already ahead, 2-1. Somewhere along the way, she broke serve.
They were both holding serves. Capriati’s long game is frustrating Williams as the latter made unforced error after another, either hitting net or going out. On the other hand, Williams’ power is just simply… overpowering. Her shots forced Jennifer to scramble for the ball and make a wild return that would sail unto the stands.
Capriati ahead, 5-4, her serve. A portent of things to come. The judge screams “Out” when Williams’ volley was on the line. Twice more it happened, one barely hitting the sideline. The officials out there were like UAAP basketball referees… consistently calling thin and consistently calling it wrong.
The fans were cheering lustily while the commentators were in disgust after watching the computer graphic replays. With the help of modern technology, it’s a sacrilege of the sport, according to them. Then again, I would be privy to more sports sacrileges, with or without the utilization of technology, as the week winds.
In the end, Capriati won, 2-6, 6-4, 6-4. Soloflite, could you double check the scores for me?
Finally, finally. The Amazing Race begins. Let me see if I could do an ‘article’ about it.
Twins Kami and Karli finally got eliminated as Colin and Christie notched first place and another vacation package while Brandon and Nicole survived Hell’s Gate in their Detour to finish third in the New Zealand pitstop of The Amazing Race.
Good enough for a lead paragraph. That wasn’t so hard.
After that, went straight to John Doe. Something tells me I missed an episode. I was suddenly lost in the scheme of things. Oh yeah, he was searching for his identity.
Just had to stay longer to watch the greatest hoax of all time. But this is reserved for another topic. Clue: it has something to do with Americans and Earth’s only natural satellite.
Went to school, had a late lunch with Xyldrae. Did our Heraldo Filipino rounds. Went to Palaruang La Salle to look for people. Had a round of 21. Lost to Xyldrae. Don’t know why and don’t know how. Must be because of the lighter women’s basketball.
Talked to DLS-D swimming coach Ben Luna about his daughter Grace (No, not the same Grace Luna, thank you.) and his dog schitzu. Xyld’s said he’s full of bull.
Passed by the oval en route to the office. Had a little chitchat with the DLS-D track team. Also jogged around the innermost lane. Completed the revolution in two minutes somewhat. I should do this more.
Just in time, I caught my band, Livewire, onstage at Kantahan, Tugtugan, Sayawan 7. One word: flat. This band definitely has some issues with identity. Nothing against the current band head, but Peter Alvarez was more democratic during his term last year. He lets the vocalists have their say with the set list, while he also consults the guitarists on what to play or how the arrangement would go.
For someone as boyish as her, she does throw me off with her musical taste. And having a narrow-minded girlfriend such as EJ’s doesn’t help the situation a little bit. Those who are in the band know what I’m talking about. It’s Yoko Ono rearing her ugly head again.
And someone told me the better bands played earlier. Argh!
It’s also because of this KTS that I set myself up to Thursday’s miss-adventure. Saw IWrite group leader Malou Gregorio among the crowd. A fellow groupmate of mine chanced upon me in the HF office and she told me offhand that she couldn’t accompany Malou for our group’s scheduled interview tomorrow.
Upon seeing Malou, I approached and relayed to her what my groupmate told me earlier. Holding back her frustration, she asked me to accompany her to borrow Efren Camaisa’s video camera, and at the same time tag along with her to her appointment the following day, which I could not decline because I haven’t done anything significant in our documentary yet.
That’s done. On to Thursday…
-----
T-horiffic Thursday
Was rudely woken up by my brother again.
Before handing me the last downpayment for my tuition, he castigated me about the dole outs I’m asking from my mom. Hey, is it my fault that almost every subject I’m taking up right now requires me to shell out 20 bucks every week?
I still say money is a pretty petty thing to fight over. Here I am trying to help myself by going to hell lots of rakets (eg, uaapgames.com) just to sustain myself and I get a lashing for doing so and letting my ‘main’ priorities get waylaid every now and then.
Nevertheless, still needed the untimely alarm clock. Have to meet Malou at Baclaran.
Upon arriving, I saw my other groupmate (the original groupmate who was supposed to accompany her) with Malou in a store trying to have their cellular phones reloaded with credits.
I should have slept instead.
We’re supposed to arrive early so as not to keep the interviewee waiting. Apparently, he had a meeting that morning and another one popped up after lunch.
This made my other groupmate furious and she started ranting why people in authority keep less prominent people in need on hold. Malou ordered her to zip it, while I tried as hard as I could to catch on sleep. When I have less than eight hours of shuteye, I am grungier than usual and I am pissed off at minute things.
To look at the positive, at least we were already there and now is not the time to back out. We traveled hell lots of miles just to get there. Let’s just get it over and done with. Yes, that was my mindset that day, get it over and done with.
We were in the lounge for five hours or so, being entertained by the receptionist, who was also a Communications graduate. Her name’s Cathy and a product of University of the East Caloocan. Sorry, no UAAP connections there.
She was accommodating, comparing notes with our experiences. Not much difference. Just means that the Communication Arts program of DLS-D sucks.
Finally had the interview, which lasted vaguely only about 20 minutes or so. After all it’s done, found a way to grab Cathy’s numbers… landline numbers, silly.
*Cue in NBA Live commentator*
He shoots… and he scores…
*Cue off*
Got to see the last two minutes of Conspiracy Theory Phase One on tv in Baclaran on the way home. Couldn’t believe at the score. 81-56 with still a minute to go. Left with a big smirk on my face. Didn’t finish the game.
Arrived in Imus earlier than usual. Still had time to ‘talk’ with Jasmine Payo using our helper’s cell (Would you believe that I don’t have my own unit while my brother’s in-house helper has a lent Nokia 5110?).
*Cue in NBA Live commentator*
He shoots… and he scores…
*Cue off*
A nice sendoff to Lala-land.
-----
Fried-day
Woken up by my brother, this time necessary. Although I don’t have class (The fourth years… the CAD profs, I mean, decided to give the seniors a ‘field trip’ to different broadsheet offices.), I might use the time off to make a headstart in laying out HF Sports.
I decided to spend more time on bed instead. Which my brother (and I think also my mom) eventually found out. More cannon fodder for later. Moms and their natural radars: It never fails.
Did nothing much except make fun of UAAP basketball teams’ and players’ names with Xyldrae and an unsuspecting companion in Gerard. Can he actually relate to what we’re talking about? I mean, he’s just a quasi-sportswriter for a week and we were having uber-inside UAAP jokes.
Saw Ed after Blind Date and The Fifth Wheel over at ETC. Light, but not wacky. Ally McBeal for men. And I could oh-so relate with Tom Cavanagh’s character right now.
Now that I mentioned it, it’s already actually Saturday.
-----
Sat-my-day
For most of the time, yes, I was seated except when I was riding the LRT-2 line on the way to Araneta Coliseum and the MRT while accompanying Elaigh home.
Oh yeah, couldn’t forget the episode when I had to ‘usher’ four companions from Upper B to Patron using my ‘clout’ (read: press ID). Yes, I’m giving away ideas for free. Let’s see if you have the guts to actually do it.
An Atene-rant: How come is it only Ateneans who have the gall to occupy the Press Row? We should be requiring on who would ever seat there to write an article about the game. That should stop them hoarding the places that were destined for us.
Conspiracy Theory Phase Two: Complete. FEU men’s basketball coach Koy Banal knows more than what he’s saying, but then again, that would be stating the obvious. You wouldn’t want to be caught as the whistleblower against ABS-CBN’s grand plans of rigging UAAP men’s cage games.
This comment after the game should be a dead give-away:
“Naniniwala ako na both of us (teams) wanted to win.”
No one questions that. The issue here is whether someone asked the ‘other team’ to drop the game.
Then there’s this classic in the same post-game interview.
“Sa palagay ko, advantage sa amin ang ma-extend sa game three ang (Ateneo-De La Salle) series. O bakit, sigurado na ba kami? Hindi pa, ‘no. Kailangan pa nga namin manalo sa UE.”
Slip of the tongue? Backtracking, eh? Washing your hands?
“It’s safe to say na ma-extend siya (into game three).”
There you go… But then again, if you are into my three-pronged conspiracy theory, this is just stating the obvious.
Going back into the game at hand, for a moment there, everybody’s on the belief system that Ateneo might win this one with the way the referees were calling, especially in the first half. But Lopez and company always takes precedence.
-----
Sunday, bloodier than the usual
Was rudely interrupted for the fifth straight day, this time by Billy Joe. The day before, it was Elaigh.
Why he had to call me up while he was intoxicated sure beats me. For most of the time, he was just cussing everybody, speaking in straight English, and was getting pissed off at my retorts. That is so not the Bjoe that I know of.
Chalk one more reason for ‘Why JP shouldn’t drink alcohol’.
While in front of the PC, trying to organize my thoughts, my brother had to call my attention. His stern body language gave it away.
“Ano ‘to?” he sarcastically asked while handing me last semester’s certificate of grades. I need not elaborate.
“Gusto mo pa bang mag-aral?” he bellowed while slamming his hands onto the nearest table. It was all downhill from there.
Actually, I wanted to be a smart aleck and reply with a dignified “NO.” But then, that would just another can of worms and I would just be digging a bigger hole than I couldn’t possibly get out of. As it is, I am in a rut right now.
If he stays true to his word that starting next sem I would fund my education, then that just means one thing: stop. I am zilch, nada, zero, flat broke, bankrupt right now.
Again, let me reiterate that I tried ways during this ongoing semester to alleviate myself from poverty. I guess I was just overwhelmed by my so-called responsibilities.
Choose my poison: If money’s not going to stop from continuing my education by November, either my current status (24 units worth of accumulated failure and counting) or my ‘case’ with the Institutional Discipline Office would (Being caught not wearing the prescribed for five times during your whole stay does actually count as insubordination?).
Either way, fuck my brother and fuck De La Salle. Fuck me also for being such a fucking burden to my fucking family. I am so fucking frustrated with myself when I shouldn’t be. I mean, I am happy as it is. Or maybe I don’t feel the sting yet.
Nevertheless, fuck life.
Now I sound like a drunk Bjoe. One more reason ‘Why JP doesn’t need to drink alcohol’. I don’t need an 80-proof bottle or drugs or cigarettes for me to lash the whole world. I am good at it even when I am sober and in my proper faculties.
// posted by Unknown @ 14:48 
