Tempus Fugit

Monday, June 28, 2010

Goodbye, Goodye

I've read a very sad story about Love many years ago, when I was still at the verge of discovering the treasures written words have with them. It's about a man who wasn't able to move on from a lost Love with her ex-girlfriend to the point that he kept visiting her every year just to see her-now with children of her own and a husband who existed faraway-but a husband still. His visits became an annual ritual for the kids and for the woman. But the man and the woman are both aware that the yearly visits will always end with the man saying, "Goodbye", and the woman ending it with a sad "Goodbye".

This poem is for people who made Goodbye a source of life-a life full of what if's and could have beens.

-
-





-
-
There are some who
live life after they have found
that someone special.
Well, I started living mine
when I lost that someone.
My friends tell me that
I should do the right thing
and put it behind me.
Get on with my life
with the hopes of finding
the new someone who'll
make me forget about my last.
But I can't do it. I just can't.
I know few people understand
what I'm going through.
Some fake sympathy and concern.
Bollocks!
Through each passing year
I've always visited 
my special someone.
Not with hopes of the two of us
getting back together
-which is impossible and preposterous.
My special someone already has kids.
Three of them.
I love those kids. I truly do.
I treat them like my
own every time I visit once a year.
When the time to part comes, I focus.
I take in the voice and the eye contact.
That's the only time I exist.
Imagine? I only feel alive once a year
- at about a few seconds.
It didn't matter that 
the only words we were always
saying were Goodbyes.
Goodbye. Goodbye.

-
-
*Picture from http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KDtM28ScAEU/SxPcOS-WxwI/AAAAAAAAAD8/2SWsE5B5JKI/s1600/Goodbye.jpg



Thursday, June 24, 2010

Forgotten/Oublié



-
-
I'm trying to remember
Your name.
But it eludes me.
I don't know why.
What I can remember
Is that I used to love you
And you used to love me too.
I think there is a big chance
You don't remember 
My name at all,
The way I do with yours
. I know there was 
A time when all I think
About is you and 
That feels a millennium ago.
The kisses we shared
Are now dull memories
Of a once lovely past,
Of a past where 
I have gladly memorized
The curves on your face
And the frequency of your smiles.
All that are now 
Gray specks to our once
Colorful relationship.
But what is your name?
-
-


Oublié

(French Translation)

J'essaye de me rappeler
Votre nom.
Mais il m'élude.
Je ne sais pas pourquoi.
Ce que je peux me rappeler
Est ce que j'avais l'habitude de vous aimer
Et vous aviez l'habitude d'aimer imitation.
Je pense qu'il y a une grande chance
Vous ne vous rappelez pas 
Mon nom du tout,
La manière que je fais avec le vôtre
. Je sais qu'il y avait 
Un moment où tous que je pense
Au sujet de est vous et 
Cela se sent il y a un millénium.
Les baisers que nous avons partagés
Sont maintenant les mémoires mates
D'un passé une fois beau,
Du passé d'a où 
J'ai heureusement mémorisé
Les courbes sur votre visage
Et la fréquence de vos sourires.
Tout qui sont maintenant 
Points gris au notre une fois
Rapport coloré.
Mais quel est votre nom ? 
-
-
*Picture from http://www.shayjtoday.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/03/lost-art-2-590x400.jpg

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Voyeur



-
-

I look at you.
It's what I do.
From the moment I wake
Until the time I say my prayers at night.
Even in my dreams I look at you.
I look for you.
In the corners of my subconscious
It is you that I seek.
The contours of your face
When you smile
And the hint of hesitation in your voice
Whenever you ask for directions
Are like second skin to me.
It has become me.
But there are times 
That I can't help but notice
How happy you are when 
You're with him
That the smile I dearly love
Is prompted by someone else,
That everytime I look at you
I do my best not to see him too.
I only look at you.
But you and him are one
So I guess I look at him too.
And that hurts me most.
-
-
Spanish Version

Le miro.
Es lo que lo hago.
A partir del momento despierto
Hasta el tiempo digo mis rezos en la noche.
Incluso en mis sueños le miro.
Le busco.
En las esquinas de mi subconsciente
Es usted que busco.
Los contornos de su cara
Cuando usted sonríe
Y la indirecta de la vacilación en su voz
Siempre que usted pida direcciones
Sea como la segunda piel a mí.
Me ha sentido bien.
Pero hay épocas 
Que no puedo dejar notar
Cómo es feliz usted es cuándo 
Usted está con él
Que el amor de la sonrisa I querido
Es incitado por algún otro,
Eso cada vez que le miro
Hago mi mejor para no verlo también.
Le miro solamente.
Pero usted y él son uno
Conjeturo tan que lo miro también.
Y ese me lastima más.
 
-
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*Picture from http://www.soc.ucsb.edu/sexinfo/images/09-07-binoculars.jpg

Monday, June 21, 2010

Surrender /Entrega (Spanish Version)


-
-
Please do not look at me.
Because when you do,
All the resolve that I've tried
To muster suddenly vanishes into oblivion.
I feel helpless and weak.
Those eyes make me
A prisoner to their beauty,
Life, and mystery.
Tempting me to forego
All the doubts I have inside.
Urging me to give in.
But no matter how
I try not to fall for you,
I fail, for in those eyes
I see a future where
I feel I belong- where I want to belong.

-
-

No me mire por favor.
Porque cuando usted lo hace,
Toda la resolución que he intentado
Para reunir repentinamente desaparece en el olvido.
Siento desamparado y débil.
Esos ojos me hacen
Un preso a su belleza,
Vida, y misterio.
Tentación de mí para renunciar
Todas las dudas que tengo adentro.
Impulsándome dar adentro.
Pero no importa cómo
Intento no caerme para usted,
Fallo, para en esos ojos
Veo un futuro donde
Siento que pertenezco donde quiero pertenecer.
-
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*Picture from http://gideonidea.files.wordpress.com/2009/03/total-surrender-photographic-print-c12269788.jpeg

Time to Love

Budding relationships grow.
In arms, in hearts, in eyes in trees,
But does anyone know when to
Love and when not to?
When to start then pursue
And when to pause and give adieu?
Are there guidelines on Love
So that you'll not make a 
Fool of yourself, of others, of every one.
Why is it that IQ scores can
Never be used for the heart?
Clearly love isn't scientific.
Yet it can be measured.
Though not with the English or
Metric System.
Only the heart can size it up.
But when is the right time to 
Fall in love?
-
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*Picture from http://chikki.files.wordpress.com/2008/06/loving-hands-photographic-print-c12153830.jpg

Waiting


-
-
Long dull hours, minutes and seconds
Stretching the patience I wish I had.
Moments so dim that
The pot of gold at the end
Of the rainbow turned to brass,
Dessert oasis' suddenly dried,
Silken jet black hair became gray,
And clocks ticked
But time stood still.
The heart yearned for that only voice,
The only touch, only smile, only kiss.
It longs for the time to be with you.
When hours, minutes, and even seconds
Flash by so fast.
So rapid and quick.
But when I'm not with you
It's totally different.
Sometimes I try to copy that,
I close my eyes and imagine you beside me,
Holding my hand and 
Blowing me kisses.
How I wish I can always do that,
That I'm always lucky to achieve that.
What can I do but wish and dream?
-
-
*Picture from http://www.jckonline.com/sites/default/files/legacy/photo/170/170479-17_Waitingroom_Inv.gif

Sunday, June 20, 2010

Age-Old Courting


-
-

It started with a glance.
With a lot of it, for that matter.
Pulling me into a duel
Where I started out as an 
Unwilling participant.

It continued with more glances.
Still with lots of it.
Burning me with an 
Invisible fire only
The two of us can feel.

The glances stopped.
Things went a notch further.
But I didn't initiate it.
The countless glances were for that.
So, I waited like a hunter waits for his prey.

Now's the time to mention
The other dueler.
The one who clearly tries so hard
To mark the territory that 
Unfortunately, desires the hunter.

That's when the eye daggers
Started hitting me.
Cold, blunt and direct.
But what can a mere dog who marks his 
Territory do against a hunter who has mastered the craft?

Nothing.

Exactly.

The inevitable happened.
The prey went for the bait.
As expected.
Clueless and Ignorant.
The time has come to finish this off.

With a smile and more quick glances
I sealed the deal.
I didn't do it.
It was the prey who did it.
But we really know who did it, right?

The loser dog left
And stated licking his wounds.
I can't blame the dog.
It didn't know what it was up against.
Like the prey, the dog was clueless.
-
-
*Picture from http://etc.usf.edu/clipart/6000/6021/fencing_6_lg.gif


Wednesday, June 16, 2010

Sleep

-
-
Empty moonless nights
Beckon me towards sleeplessness
Urging me to stay awake.
To bathe in the unrivalved glory
Of its borrowed shine.
Making me a witness to
A different world in the dark
Where nightingales render soulful arias
And owls become sentries ofthe night.
Sometimes I wait for the
Sun to level in the horizon.
For morning birds to chirp on the day.
What I cannot do is to
Sleep still through the 
Quiet of the moonless night
With the fear of not waking up with you.
I fear that sleep will take you away.
I'm afraid love will be gone.
That's why I'd rather have dark circles
Under my eyes,
Than to create the same dark circles
Around our beating hearts.

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Picture from http://www.logoi.com/pastimages/img/sleeping_beauty_2.jpg

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Existence

-
-
Burned out shining stars
Became the only audience
To the shrilling aria I gave.
The moon unwillingly
took over the place of
My Symphony's Maestro.

I never knew that goodbyes
Can be beautiful songs.
Continuously reminding me
Of a certain time when
Life was everything but painful.
When Love was nothing but pure.
No matter where you go
Or whatever you may do,
I know that in the most mundane
Things that you'll do,
My memory will haunt you.
It will take you to me.

You are hiding behind the
Shadows of our pain.
Relinquishing in the tears I shed.
I won't be there. I won't be anywhere.
But time will come when you'll 
Start looking for me.

Look for me in the
Memories that we so
Happily shared-before.
Feel me with the things
We used to do.
Make the most of your 
Creative imagination.
It'll only be there that 
I'll exist for you.
I was erased the moment you left.

-
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*Picture from http://www.visitlbiregion.com/includes/media/images/Looking-to-sea-OC-Historical.jpg

Monday, June 14, 2010

Beneath the Sheets

 -
-
Twisted bodies writhe.
In pain, joy, ecstasy, grief?
I dared not know.
Two people dancing 
In the nervous rhythm 
Of their heartbeat,
Each one oblivious of
Dangers that lurks.

Exchanging muffled moans,
In pain, joy, ecstasy, grief?
I dared not know.
Two people singing
Silent songs of
Yearnings they won't
Let strangers know.
Each one chose to be
Ignorant of complex strings
they pulled a lifetime ago.

Bodies. Moans. Promises.
-
-
*Picture from http://www.thebuttercompartment.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/02/between-sheets.jpg








Write 'til the End of June

Hi scholars! It's indeed good news that I'll be extending the due date for the poem writing contest until the end of the month (June).

With that you'll be able to create better poetry.

Spread the word!!!

Friday, June 11, 2010

You Are Forgiven

Forgive But Never Forget

How many times have you forgiven someone who have wronged you in a way or two (even more) for as many times as you can remember? Once? Twice? Every time? This question should never ever be a rhetoric since this ingrains in us a very disturbing subculture of the Filipinos who live their days in total abandon and oblivion of a lot instances and people who said Sorrys and I'll make it up to yous as if it's the word not the act done which is important in life full of errs, faults, wrongs and sometimes rights. Now, do you easily forgive? What comes after?

This post is not meant to show how I'm the perfect example of what I'm talking about. I know I"m also a culprit of rampant Please forgive me Syndrome. I know for  a fact that I have said a lot of Sorrys without really meaning them (Sorry. See? It has become a habit.) I wonder if people giving forgiveness made it a hobby too? Are they even aware of it? I'm guilty. And I'm doing my best to rid myself of this social cancer that we always thought insignificant and benign. That for me is the first step-Awareness. It is knowing you and accepting there's something wrong in and about you. Second would be the realization that you have to do something about it. (You/We have to be cured!)

Do you know people who are sick of this disease I"m talking about? (Please enumerate them. Notice how many they are. If they're few, I congratulate you! You've lived a sheltered life. In a convent maybe?) Are you in the same list? (Good! You've just been aware!)

To give you a more nationalistic view of this disease, let's examine all that has happened within the last few years of reign of our Her Excellency Madam President. She herself said Sorry for that Garci scandal debacle. Have people forgiven her? Or do you still remember what I'm talking about? (See! People always forget. Forget. Forget.) Why did she said Sorry in the first place? Well, I only say sorry if I have done something wrong. Has she? (Oh Yes!!!)

Another issue on hand is the pardon she gave former President Estrada. What the hell was she thinking? The simple and blunt message for that act is camaraderie and of believing people will change  (read: you can steal from the National Treasury or engage in super illegal but very profitable undertakings like jueteng; you'll be put in prison, but not for long, since the incumbent President needs higher performance ratings) Bottom line, you can get away with plunder and corruption (if you're powerful and popular enough) and what message does that convey to the youth? This: We are doomed!

You don't have to look far to see examples of this disease. There's you friend who still stays with his/her partner after countless  time of being caught cheating. They are all around us. It's me and you! And to tell you the truth that's very disturbing.


So the next time you forgive someone keep in mind that there shouldn't be a next time. Sorry has been overused to feed that disease. Do you're part to heal a nation in dire need of change.  Always remember that saying the word sorry and giving your forgiveness is sacred because it deals with life. Maybe mine or your own.

The Hell with the one who first spoke Forgive and Forget.

Thursday, June 10, 2010

BIG FAT LIAR

Based on a true story.
-
-
You are my Love.
The very blood that runs through
My mortal body.
Giving me the chance 
To live, love and laugh.
I miss you sooo much.
You are the breath 
I always have to take to survive.
Without you I'll be lifeless.
I'll amount to nothing significant.

I love you.
I miss you.
I want to be with you.

That is until I discovered
You tell this beautiful things
To other people too.
Words I thought 
Were uttered only for me.
But were not.

For that, you are SHIT. 
-
-
*Picture from http://thumbs.dreamstime.com/thumb_118/1170364205L7bKa9.jpg

The (Cute) Picture Of You

Pictures are worth a thousand words or so I was told. But how I wish it talks back every time I converse with it.. I wish  it also hears the confessions I blurt out which if the real person is in front of me-I couldn't and wouldn't. We seldom get to hear each others voices lately, and I've noticed with the last text messages you sent me, you were kinda pissed off. About what? I don't know. So that kinda pisses me off too. But I get hold of myself and convince 'me' that bad vibes are not good (that's what they are called such, right?) Another thing is that you don't know a thing about what I'm really feeling for you. (Okay, you might have a clue.) But still what I feel is more than what I say I feel.  Most of the time I wonder if you are really thinking about me? Because most of the time I think of you. Not just the general you. But specifically the specific (I hate being redundant). The do you think of me when you eat your breakfast? Do you wish I was there eating with you? How about when you take your nap? Do you have short dreams about me? (Because I sometimes day dream about you. Is that better than ordinary dreams? I don't have any idea. But it has to amount to something right?) Do you also wish I am holding your hands as you walk down the street? (How I wish) Finally, do you wish that we take a bath together? (Wait.wait.wait. I'm not suppose to type that in.Kindly ignore it pls.) I hope you stop being paranoid. And stop getting mad at me for things I'm innocent about. (Cross fingers- include my toes) I wish to see you soon!!!

-
-
And I was reading this trash of a work I recite the words as if you are beside me and holding my hand. But
in reality I am looking at your pic every once in a while so that I won't miss you that much.

-
-
Even though you look very cute in the picture I got I still wish It's really you I'm seeing. Not just a pic of you looking very very cute! 

-
-
I'll not be posting the picture. Sorry. It's private. It's for my eyes only.
(Not posting it I think is a Smart-ish thing to do. Not Smart since people might think that what I wrote is just a flight of fancy so I included the ish after Smart. Crafty huh? (I could choke on what I typed) Considering that I always load pics with my posts.)

I Tore It Into Pieces (Sequel to I Stole A Letter)

-
-

My heart knows the letter's
Every period, coma and semi colon.
It's the written version of what people
Call the Last Song Syndrome.
It served as my lullaby during
Sleepless nights.
When the Sun goes up
Over the horizon it waits
For me to open my eyes.
But as much as I want to 
Stay with it, 
The longer I suffer
From emotional suicide.
So one night during my Taxi ride home,
I closed my almost tearful eyes and
Made my hands the body part version
Of a paper shredder.
Pieces of my useless addiction
Were left under the Taxi seat.
The timid driver unaware of
My duel with a love lost which
 Unfortunately will never be found.


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*Pictures from http://blogs.seattleweekly.com/dailyweekly/taxi.jpg and http://forums.unfiction.com/forums/viewtopic.php?mode=attach&id=7276&thumb=1









Wednesday, June 9, 2010

I Stole A Letter

 To all my friends you know what I'm talking about here. I finally got the chance to make something out of my Zahir like experience.

-
-

I stole a letter.
It wasn't even addressed to me.
But it was about me.
Jumbled words caressing
My wounded heart of long ago.

Honest declarations of
Love connected the
Recalcitrant texts.
Indulging in the creation
Of goodbyes and hellos.

I read.
I felt.
I ached.
I wished.
I reminisced.
I longed.
I let go.

I stole a letter. 
It almost stole my heart too.

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*Picture from http://www.neurosoftware.ro/programming-blog/wp-content/plugins/wp-o-matic/cache/365ca_final7.jpg

Disappointment


Stormy thoughts dulled my senses.
Rendering me useless
like only Smirnoff could.
Once grand ideas now
seem they're fly infested trash.
I feel like hobo living
with my cousins-the vermins
and cockroaches- not to mention
the other scavengers prowling
the darkened alley.
Filth is the ever present fashion trend.

I saw my day crushed 
with the torrent winds
and angry waves of my emotion.
I felt its descent in a
downward spiral.
My day sunk at the bottom
of the sea,
where creatures not known
to man roam,
where darkness is the only friend.
I felt suffocated with 
the stillness in this abyss
that the Sun doesn't know.
I closed my eyes
and felt the underwater pressure
I created.

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*Picture from http://www.brandoncole.com/profile%20photos/MISCELLANEOUS/shipwrecks/pm0126-D-shipwreck_brandon_cole.jpg

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

My Heart Told Me



I asked my heart
if Love is one and the same,
in its morse codic beat
it said, " Are the flowers of
Spring dressed with the same petals?"
"No" I retorted.
"But are they all beautiful?"
my heart replied questioningly. 
"Yes" I quipped. 
"You have answered your query then."
Again I asked 
my patient heart, 
"Do you stop loving
someone the moment 
you discover their flaws 
or get hurt by them?"
After pondering on it, my heart spoke,
"Do you ignore the 
rose because it has thorns?"
"Thanks heart! 
I have one more question.
How do I take care of another heart?"
My heart mused 
with the knowledge it gained
after millions of blood pumps,
"You treat a heart like
you treat a blossom.
You should become
a loving gardener.
But you should know
that your Love isn't 
all it needs.
Remember that a flower years
for sunshine too.
It grows with rainbow butterflies.
It glides with the wind.
It is nourished by the Land.
A heart needs other hearts
-it doesn't strive on yours alone."

-
-
*Picture from http://www.princetonol.com/Family_Life/images/coloringbook/flowers.gif

Monday, June 7, 2010

FAREWELL

Today I was made aware about the death of an educator who've been a part of my (and hundreds even thousands of other people's) golden highschool life. She took us under her for not more than a meeting for a reason I cannot remember anymore. But she was always there for the school-for us. She was ever present during the traditional Flag Raising Ceremony.

To know about her death is discovering that there'll be less gardeners for the young minds that have been planted in our Alma Mater. There'll be lesser cultivators of youthful greatness, of hopeful dreams and brave hearts.

But no one can deny that her life as a teacher, as a public servant, as a mentor was not wasted. For in the curves and contours of the Philippines, I know that her teachings, and her life was and is being used as an inspiration by the very students she has inspired.

To borrow the words of Henry Adams, "A teacher affects eternity. He never knows where his influence stops".

This is for you.

-
-
HOME

Don't worry about the students
you'll never get to teach.
For you have done
more than wha
t was asked of you.
Do not ever worry
about the young adults
you'll never meet.
For the ones you've taught will
do it the way you taught them to.
Embrace the victory
that you have achieved.
You have affected a lot
of people by your life.
And death is nothing
compared to the lives
you've touched.
Your journey now
does not involve the
students you dearly love.
Now you are destined
to meet your one and
only educator 
and creator and master.
With him you'll
need nothing else.
You are going back home.
He is Home.

Sunday, June 6, 2010

Doing Things In Public

This is for those who suffer and enjoy the same realities and frustrations.
-
-
I have devised a way
on how to be
with you without
being near you. I try to sleep
as long and
as much as I can.
For in those
subconscious adventures
I get the chance
to hold your hand
and kiss you in public.
I get to introduce you
to my parents
and friends.
I get to be 
with you everyday.
What I dread the
most is the threat
of waking up.
I frustrate
about reality
- about not doing
things in public,
about "us"
that can't be
public.

-
-
*Picture from http://images.free-extras.com/pics/h/holding_hands-1419.JPG

I Feel You

When I close my eyes
and for a moment
try to be free
from your presence,
I've realized that
it can't be done.
Because even in the
dark void I see
when my eyes are closed,
I see you there- I feel you.
When I try to hold
my breath so that
for a moment 
I won't smell your scent,
I discovered that
it isn't possible.
For even in that
breathless universe,
I get a whiff 
of your muskiness
- intoxicating and intense.
I feel your breath
against my nape.
I feel you
no matter what I do.


-
-

*Picture from http://www.independent.co.uk/multimedia/archive/00037/depressionBWbig_37548t.jpg

Saturday, June 5, 2010

Outside My Window

This is for you! You know who you are! 
-
-

There are days when I just stop
what I'm doing and
stare out the window.
Searching for you along
that busy street.
Hoping that it'll be you
who'll walk up next.
With your bouncy stride
and your happy gait.
But I'm not
counting on it much.
Not as much as 
I want to- I guess.
Sometimes I feel joy
seeing a part of yourself
with other people who walk by.
Some have your hair,
your eyes, your favorite 
shirt- but not the totality of you.
I continue staring and dreaming.
I close my eyes 
and remember what's
about you that I fell in love with.
And not for long
they are all so real- you are so real!
Then, I decided to continue
what I'm doing before I stared
out the window- thinking of you.
After a while I know
I'll look for you again
among the faces of the people
who walk by outside my window. 

-
-


*picture from https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKA9-8sbwA7XcXxRUTiVv7wJ7j3_QpmmURl3EFXxQLxPj6Ge9M-4aDneIqJ9xK44NarUbOM316aqZcBm6PHzH-8jc4K_P7pwrtJ0p_6UTgrFnCRU_YhYtnkQulPrv5H5aaio9l94bd-kND/s1600/elderly-man-staring-out-window.gif

Friday, June 4, 2010

Saying Goodbye But Not Letting Go

Sometimes when people who really matter to you go to a different continent, to start a new life, to meet strangers, to find new people who'll make them smile or cry, to go shopping with new found friends, to bitch out about the weather or the bad service in a restaurant, to trade books with new faces, to familiarize herself with a strange park, to wear Ugg boots, to see kangaroos and koala bears -and blond surfers- alive and breathing on a strange land and you aren't there to witness it all. You feel yourself tear up and get emotional. Not because you've been with this person for a very long time, but for the sole reason that you've just found one of the missing pieces of yourself and yet destiny has a different plan for everyone. With tears on your eyes, with the bittersweet emotion you deal with, you feel that you just have to give her your blessing, not because she needs it or  she's asking it from you. You give her your blessing because you are the one who needs it. To reassure yourself that everything will be okay. That you will not be forgotten across a different timezone. Because for a fact you know that a part and important chunk of yourself goes with her to that strange land that's going to be her new home. That no matter if the seasons are different there the special bond you shared with one another will not melt like snow  or wilt like a leaf in Fall. That you're connection will always be in a state of Spring-blooming,fresh,and full of life.

I will miss you Ate Ria!

Thursday, June 3, 2010

Copying Soulmate

Hi guys and gals! When I have attended last year's Philippine Blog Awards a blog title instantly caught my attention: “Finding Your Soul Mate: A Statistical Analysis”.

People are generally drawn to the idea that all of us have our very own soul mate. Books are written about it. Songs full of longing and hope are made. Poems are created with lavish expressions about that special "one".

I'll definitely write my own stuff about it soon! But for now please take time to read this interesting article. Enjoy!!!

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Finding Your Soul Mate: A Statistical Analysis 

27 Jan 2009


  • I’ve been thinking recently about soul mates and the chances of finding that soul mate. Why have I been thinking about this? Because I drink too much every night and wake up every morning with a dry throat and a dull headache, and thus cannot bring myself to start working until after several hours of staring blankly into space. But I digress. This piece is an attempt at quantifying the odds of finding that special somone, and contains some thoughts regarding how to increase those odds further.
    Now, the first step is of course believing that your soul mate exists. I know a lot of people don’t believe that everyone has a soul mate, but for the purposes of this article, let’s just ignore them.
    The tricky thing about this whole discussion is that the cosmos never bothered to lay down any ground rules regarding soul mates, so we’re unfortunately stuck making a bunch of assumptions. Here are the ones that I’m basing my calculations on:

    1. Your soul mate exists, and is currently alive somewhere in the world. I’m not going to waste time calculating the odds of meeting a soul mate who was alive B.C., or will be born around the time the flying car goes mainstream. We’re going to assume that the cosmos was considerate enough to give you a fighting chance after all.

    2. Your soul mate is of the preferred sexual orientation. This whole discussion would be pointless otherwise.

    3. Your soul mate speaks at least one of the languages that you do. Again, it would be otherwise impossible to connect with your soul mate if you can’t speak a common language.
    (Nota Bene: If you disagree with any of the items above, tough luck. I’m not doing your math for you.)
    Given those three assumptions, you can compute the maximum number of potential soul mate candidates simply by multiplying the population of your chosen language by the percentage of your preferred sexual orientation. Let’s call this your Personal Soul Mate Index.

    For example, my chosen language is English (1.5 billion native and non-native speakers) and my preferred sexual orientation is straight female. The global gender ratio is about 51:49 in favor of men, so I multiply 1.5 billion by 0.49, which would be roughly 735,000,000. I would then reduce that number further by 2% to get my PSMI (which is the alleged gay ratio), leaving me with 720,300,000 straight English-speaking females. If you were a gay male, you would multiply 1.5 billion by 0.51 and then again by 0.02, giving you a much smaller PSMI, at only 15.3 million.

    (Note that you could also choose to totally ignore the language part of the equation and simply multiply your sexual orientation by the total global population, which is at 6.7 billion at the time of this writing.)
    I’ll give you a moment to compute your own PSMIs.

    All good? Great, let’s move on to the fun stuff.

    So, the likelihood of me meeting my soulmate is roughly 1 in 720,000,000, and what we’re going to do over the next few paragraphs is work out just how “likely” that is. I’m a 27-year-old Filipino, and have a life expectancy of 71 years. That means I’ve got a potential for 44 more years of searching for that darned soul mate of mine. Let’s be more granular, and calculate how many days that is:

    (365 days * 33 common years) + (366 days * 11 leap years) = 16,071 days to go

    Let’s tack on the past 9 years of my life as well, or since I turned 18, i.e., legally capable of having sex with my soul mate should I meet her. (And if that sounds a little crass, I apologize. I’m sure you would simply lose yourself in your soul mate’s eyes forever.)

    16071 + ((365 * 7) + (366 * 2)) = 19,358 days in total

    We can express all of this very simply by saying that if I want to meet my soul mate and I am unlucky enough to have had to meet every single person in my entire PSMI before I finally meet her, I would have to see 720,300,000 people over 19,358 days starting when I turned 18. (37,209 people per day, or about half of the people who went to the Eraserheads concert last year.)

    Does that sound discouraging? Let’s do some quick math to work out the problem.

    I’m sitting at a Starbucks as I write this, and there are easily 30 other people in and around this place with me. I’ll walk back to the office and there are another 60 people there. Later tonight I’ll have dinner at the Fort, and will come into indirect contact with about 100 or so different people. If I were commuting, I’d get on to a train car with 50 other people all mashed up against each other.
    Depending on how much you move around, you come in to indirect contact with about 150-200 unique people every day. Possibly even more than that if you really pound the pavement. That means that without drastically changing my lifestyle, I will see about 3,871,600 people over the course of my life or about 0.5% of my PSMI. Expressed in more practical terms, my chances of finding my soul mate at any point in my post-18 life is about 1 in 200. If you play Texas Hold ‘Em, this is roughly the same odds as being dealt pocket aces (220:1). (Interestingly enough, I’ve been dealt pocket aces about half a dozen times at Hold ‘Em that I can remember.)

    Is that depressing? Yeah, a little bit. 20 years ago, that would be pretty much all she wrote too. But these days we’re fortunate enough to have a way to connect with thousands more at any given moment, i.e., the internets. I’ve got about 670 people following me on Twitter, about 250 friends on Facebook and have built a handful of little web toys that thousands of people use every day. Your own numbers will be drastically different of course, but the point is that we’re able to cheat the odds by making ourselves really visible online. In fact, if I assume that my soul mate is a straight female who speaks English and has Internet access, my PSMI is reduced even further. There are 1.4 billion people on the Internet, 430.8 million of which speak English, and 206.8 million of which are probably straight females. Now my chances are about 58:1, which in Hold ‘Em terms is roughly the odds that you would get a pair of aces, kings, queens or jacks in your pocket (54.3:1). If all that sounds a little fanciful, it’s really not. I mean seriously, what kind of cosmos would give me a soul mate that didn’t use the Internet? That would just be cruel. (Or for that matter, didn’t subscribe to poker hand probabilities.)

    One way to look at the 58:1 ratio is thusly: if I had 58 times to relive my life, I would cross paths with my soul mate once. That sounds incredibly sad, so here’s another way to look at it: if you took 58 other guys with similar soul-mate indices as me, only one of us would find our soul mate. I like the sound of that a little bit more, but I’m not entirely sure it’s the right way to look at the numbers.

    Anyway.

    The trick here really is to make yourself as visible as possible online so as to reach as many people as possible. Joining social networks and generating online content is the new-school equivalent of taking yoga classes or joining photography clubs in order to meet new people, and it’s a lot more cost-effective too. The idea of course is not to stop looking. Just because the odds seem stacked against you, doesn’t mean it isn’t possible. After all, according to the Drake equation, the number of other currently-existing civilizations in our entire galaxy could be as little as 2, and yet we still train our telescopes at the sky every night, waiting.


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    To read guttervomit's other blog posts click this link.

    *Picture from http://www.bnr-art.com/bogle/images/soulmates.jpg

 

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

Dream Taps and Day Dreams

Have you ever felt when you are in the middle of whatever you are doing that something inside you tells you to stop? Particularly if you are in a job that is okay but isn't what you LOVE? Lately I've been feeling that. I suddenly do that faraway look when I'm supposed to finish my pending proposals. I have a very good JOB for a person my age. I'm earning quite well too. But there is still something missing, something not there, something absent- amiss.

Are situations like these reminders to us by our old hopeful, motivated, and fulfilment hungry self? Are they keeping us aware that somehow, somewhere, sometime we dreamed of doing something that makes us are hearts happy? Something that inspires us to go on? Are these said happenings show us that life is too short to spend it on doing something that doenst give you real happiness? When what you are doing does not do a great job of making you eager to go to work every single uneventful and boring day?

Not so long ago, I have craved for a career that will change someones life-a lof of people's lives-no matter how self-righteous and philantrophic I might sound. I long for those not so long ago summers when I wake up everyday with the Sun and head out to do something-to teach kids. That time, even if I do not really consider it work- I was so damn happy!!! The greatness of what I was doing back then keeps me motivated and strongwilled. Sometimes I find myself looking back and reliving those blessed summers in Sapang Palay. The summers when I decided that more than anything else what I really want to do is to change lives no matter how small or big my contribution to that change might be.

Every time I walk in Ayala, The Fort, or in Ortigas, I can't help but wish that I am  walking towards that piece of heaven near the rice fields, on a bright sunny summer day, with the birds singing a melodious syumphony- to teach kids.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Books that are Up for Grabs!!!

Since I have started my whirlwind poem contest I think this is the right time to unveil the book titles that I'll be giving away.

Here they are Bibliophiles:



FASHION BABYLON
by Imogen Edwards-Jones & Anonymous

Individuals who go gaga about Prada, Jimmy Choos, Kenneth Cole and those other imposing and snob sounding names will love this wicked novel.

Book overview

CAUTION: Reading this book will forever change the way you peruse the racks at Bergdorf's or flip through the pages of Vogue.
 Taking the reader through six months in a designer's life, Fashion Babylon follows an anonymous A-list British fashion designer looking to break out across the pond. Structured around three of the annual "must" industry events, this irresistible work of reportage goes inside the well-cut seams of the fashion world, where women are paid tens of thousands of dollars for simply getting dressed and where a wrong skirt length can cost you your career. You'll find out how a collection is put together -- from the objects of inspiration to the catwalk, into the shops and, hopefully, onto the cover of a magazine -- and learn who goes to the shows and where they sit...and whose backside they have to kiss to get there.
Witty, naughty and jam-packed with celebrity gossip, Fashion Babylon decodes the markups and the comedowns, the fabulous extremes and the shoddy shortcuts behind one of the most lucrative and secretive businesses in the world.
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Percy Jackson & The Olympians: The Battle of the Labyrinth
by Rick Riordan

Lovers of the Percy Jackson and Olympians series will surely be lost amidst the books maze. Why not pin for  Percy Jackson and Olympians series fourth installment?

For this book's preview follow the labyrinth.
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The Winner Stands Alone
by Paulo Coelho

If you want to know who are the Superclass, you definitely have to read this book by the great Paulo Coelho.

For this work of art's review walk on the red carpet.



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*Fashion Babylon's book review by Google Books.