a blog resurrected

it's been almost a year since i last posted on my blog. breifly considered deactivating it but i couldn't do it so i just let it be for a while.

the recent turn of events, however, pushed me to revisit my blog and start posting again.

what turn of events? tito sotto. and his idiocy.

first he lifts passages from a blog. had he admitted it was a mistake and apologized for it, the issue would have been over, and we would all have gone back to our regular programming. but no. he had to make all these statements, courtesy of his chief of staff:

copying a blog is not plagiarism. a blog is public domain. even if it is plagiarism, he is covered by parliamentary immunity. there is no law prohibiting plagiarism. it is not a crime.

naturally the blogging world went crazy. social media erupted with comments that ranged from total shock to incredulity to outright scorn. is this guy for real?

and it didn't stop there. he then claimed that he was a victim of cyberbullying and now wants to regulate blogging via a bill. talk about a waste of time and resources.

then he goes and translates a famous speech and claims it as his own. again, not plagiarism, he says.

ugh. this is too much. as a member of the senate he ought to know the bounds of what he can and cannot do. if not him, then his staff. if not them, his colleagues in the senate. it should not happen.

i am aware that i am barely coherent. all these thoughts want to come out, punctuated at every turn by  *\}%^{*}€{~^>{~*>{~€>!!!  frothing at the mouth would be a more appropriate description.  naiinis ako eh.

i guess i should be thankful i was pushed to blog again. i guess.

meditation. it's more fun in the philippines. :)

i wrote this for you

every once in a while i encounter prose or photos that "speak to me." perhaps i relate to them because they refer to situations that i have found myself in at one time or another, and they trigger memories, both good and bad. for one reason or another these works touch that soft spot in me and i go back to them again, and again, and again to feel that feeling again, and again, and again.

but none of these have been written for me.  till now.

i wrote this for you, he says, and everyone else who reads it doesn't get it. and i say, yes.


i look at the photos and read all the words, and my heart smiles one minute and heaves a heavy heavy sigh the next, transported into another world where everything, even pain, is beautiful.

i take turns loving the book for saying all i feel, and hating it for saying all i feel. how could this book take my own emotions and express them more perfectly than i ever could? all those works that spoke to me pale in comparison.

the pictures that mean little to me at first glance make perfect sense when i read the words and each time it happens i cannot help feeling that somewhere in the universe something is clicking into place, its rightful place.

i wrote it for you inspires whimsy and brings wonder to ordinary places and things, and i find myself reaching out to touch the subject of a photo, forgetting that i am somewhere else entirely. i laugh a little at myself each time it happens, and that's always good.

it may do different things to you, inspire different emotions. i don't know, really. but i know one thing.

it was written for me, and only me. i get it.

iwtfy