I didn’t come here only to be held back.
After some incidents that had me going over the edge, I settled for some small talk with b41. I asked the usual bouts of insecure questions and again he would try and patiently answer some of them.
Before the move, I used to be ecstatic. Numerous plans were made, a feeling of finally belonging occurred, but for a short span of X timespan, they are slowly disintegrating, in fact, I was feeling a bit cheated.
I didn’t expect something, of course. I didn’t expect anything at all. But words and actions are not on the same page. I am beginning to feel very tired. In fact, I feel there isn’t much worth.
I am beginning to think that I love everybody too much. Too much that everytime I feel disappointed, hurt wells up tenfold. Even more. It is a miracle I have kicked one of my very bad habits for almost 3 weeks , but it seems that I need to retreive it for sheer insanity.
I thank that guy who always keeps me in check. Even if we have a thousand mile span (our favorite song! :P), He never fails to make me feel better.
The biggest flop, I think, is you, Recah Trinidad.
Here is the full blown article of this so-called Recah Trinidad who poured salt at every goddamn Filipino atheletes’ wound who were able to qualify for the olympics. Kulang nalang sabihin niya that the Filipinos are athletically retarded idiots.
I had to grab this from a cached site at google. For some reason, the article was wiped out from the inquirer site.
Team Philippines : Who’s the biggest flop of all ?
By Recah Trinidad
Philippine Daily Inquirer
First Posted 06:07:00 08/14/2008BEIJING—They flew here to look for the best and brightest athletes but, after three dismal Philippine failures—in shooting, weightlifting and swimming—members of the Filipino media were caught wondering who’s the dumbest among the early Filipino losers.
That’s no longer funny. Especially for Jose Cojuangco, intrepid head of the Philippine Olympic Committee, who in Manila loved to say he smelled a medal for the Filipino in this 29th Summer Olympics.
Good that Cojuangco, an incurable optimist, did not predict an outright first gold medal for the Philippines.
A grizzled politician, the man also knew the honest limitations of the 15-man RP contingent that pitifully got outnumbered by free-riding officials.
* * *
So let the search for the biggest flop begin.
Shooter Eric Ang did the (dis)honor of starting silly by shooting anything but the birds in the trap event, RP’s first bid on the first day of Olympic action.
Ang, said to be a crony of a Malacañang’s favorite governor from the North, did his best as promised but, as fate would have it, missed all but one of the targets to finish at the bottom.
He got disoriented, overwhelmed, he explained, obviously thinking he was out on a merchant group hunt for tame October snipes.
Instantly, they also had to wonder if this was the same lone entry that made Cojuangco predict a possible medal in shooting.
* * *
In fairness to Hidilyn Diaz, a cute, tiny weightlifter, she had said she did not realistically hope for a medal here, not even if all the top bets fell ill on competition day.
The daughter of a tricycle driver from Zamboanga, she inevitably developed a liking for the sport after her unforgiving daily task of hauling hefty pails of water from a far-off well for household use.
Of course, she could have finished better than 11th in a field of 12.
A bit odd but you also have to look and listen as she made the wholesale, straight-faced vow to win in the next Olympics.
“I’m sure I can win in London,” she told the Philippine Daily Inquirer as she toured the vast, sun-beaten, crowded Tiananmen Square on Tuesday.
Her best lift of 107 kilos in the snatch bested the RP mark; although the eventual winner did 134 kilos.
She’s only 17 and her coach, Seoul Olympian Ramon Solis, pointed to the fact that the gold hauler from host China team was already over 30, twice the age of Hidilyn.
* * *
That alone should put Diaz out of the dumbest scroll.
But readily giving shooter Ang a run for his money at the end of action Tuesday was the celebrated swimmer Miguel Molina, voted most outstanding athlete of the 2007 Southeast Asian Games.
After surprisingly pulling out of his first event, Molina returned to the pool to take a shot at the 200-meter breaststroke semifinals later Tuesday.
Lucky he did not drown.
Molina was so mediocre he could only clock 2:16.94, a far cry from the 2:16.62 he registered in breaking the national mark while in the United States.
That record swim, by the way, qualified Molina to the Olympics but the phenomenal tanker who did that feat has so far not shown up in the current Beijing Summer Games.
* * *
Anyway, there should be a turn for the better when boxer Harry Tañamor, the top RP medal hope who was still overweight Tuesday, has fought his first bout against a Ghanian late Wednesday.
At least two other top medal bets, taekwondo’s Antoinette Rivero and Tshomlee Go, will join in the lonely medal hunt later.
Meanwhile, long jumper Henry Dagmil, whom Cojuangco had predicted would make the standard and readily qualify, will compete on Saturday.
Dagmil made it as the country’s mandatory male entry in athletics after failing to sail past the Olympic qualifying mark despite repeated tries.
There are solid signs he would be a lead flop among failed RP campaigners here after Saturday.
Copyright 2008 Philippine Daily Inquirer. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.
Reality kicking me painfully in my fictitious balls.
While I’m getting older, I keep hearing either the ‘E’ word, the ‘W’ word or the ‘P’ word. Engagements. Weddings. and Pregnancy. In a time where sex wasn’t all that taboo (but protection seems to lack still), and i am slowly reaching into my late twenties. I get to hear that alot. From my already 25 year old sister, to my persistent aunties, a certain ex, and a whole bunch of people who are in the social networking groups.
Obviously, I am not getting any younger, no matter how many school girl uniforms I wear. No matter how young I look, and no matter how many Chick lit I read.
Soon enough, I will be thrown into the bandwagon of marriage-ables. Girls who are in line of the marrying age. In the Chinese setting, it’s either you get married before 30 or you just be an old maid for life.
Sure, if you’re in the 1950s.
I didn’t want to get married. I never used to. The thought was just insane. Even when I was in a relationship, the thought of marriage makes me want to run for the hills. Babies makes my skin crawl and me in a white gown with all the hypocrite shit going around the church and the reception.
It just wasn’t my thing. But the eternal bond(age) of (suffer)rings. The thought of living together with a chauvinistic male specimen was beyond me (e.g. my dad), who seems to know the following chores: messing around, ordering around, and playing around” Which doesn’t really count as chores. I do not mind being the whole breadwinner shit, but like I said before, this isn’t the 1950s.
When I was young I went through the whole idealistic crap of finding the perfect love. Why don’t I ever listen each time love finds its way painfully up my @$$? Let me share to you my recent status message in Yahoo! Messenger.
Idealism is next to Idiocy. Wake up and smell the f*cking coffee.
That is what you call a nice hefty kick of reality in the balls. Nothing is perfect in the world. You just get the best and hone it for all it’s worth.
I do not really know how I got around in writing about this, but I feel sick and tears just fell from my face, I just want to kick and scream and throw things. Suddenly a shift of emotion came in hurriedly, like a cold gust of wind.
Making everything so empty. And so cruel.
The once light-hearted wondering of when will I be next was suddenly shattered into a gut-wrenching pain of just screwing the whole thing altogether.
note to self:
* I keep falling into the green void. Must stop.
* so, you’ve just been a hot topic in a recent conversation (conversations if you count the repeat rate of the story revolving around the table), nothing seems better than a bunch of people all together talking about crap and didn’t bother to swing and ask you further details to clarify the shit, the more juicier, the better so why clear things up? and ruin the fun of things? NEVER.
* So, you never really seem to get noticed. Why must you hone in territories of others when obviously you’re not god-fucking wanted? In fact, someone who actually pretends to be something gets more beautiful attention than you have so whats the FUCKING point in keep FUCKING trying?!
…
ganiyanan pala ha,
PUTANGINA NIYO LAHAT.
fight club mode.
I have a temper. It can be kept for insanely long amounts of time before I blow up like Mt. Pinatubo after a real long mounting period. Bubbling until its got my goat.
I hate being placed on hope, I absolutely hate people piling you dreams only to take them away.
Only to be found out that a higher being can actually crush your dreams into a beaten massive pulp.
I couldn’t take away this taste of bitterness in my throat. I cannot help but lace acid in my words so that it comes out with just a touch of nasty than my usual bitchings.
I hate people who assume your goals and disregard you with better chances. I absolutely abhor favoritism and I believe that the term GIVE CHANCE TO OTHERS really means the OTHERS who actually deserve it.
It’s fair game until somebody hands in.
I guess I was a fool to believe and trust people who think of me as a mere officemate.
And I was an even bigger fool to actually consider them as friends.
Now this little bond of trust I have diminishes slowly.
grubby little hands touching my ds…!@&^#(*$@!
naturally. my spoiled little sister (who is 10 going 2) forgotten all about her gameboy advance when she saw me come home with Amida.
At first, she wouldn’t touch it or borrow it, now she is using her grubby, dirty hands on my poor Amida, since last night, first all she was playing was Mario Kart, now she’s invading my directory and I saw her playing cooking mama.
I absolutely hate, I do mean HATE people poking around my stuff.
Hay….the misfortunes of getting new technology.
Oh, and if she touches my Pokemons…she is so dead.
on grapevines
Any kind of people thrive, thirst and have this insatiable desire for gossip. Take for instance. A fight shared between two people suddenly you get feedback from a person a thousand miles away. Tangina, the grapevine travels mighty fast. Greedily it was relished by a handful or so people who was conveniently riding the same transportation. Passed the information to a bunch of other people and there you go. 100% pure, juisy tsismis running amok.
right…and people think otherwise can go SCREW THEIRSELVES
insult everything but NOT my god damn music.
Tuesday, I was “forced” to pick up my mom and sister at work since the driver didn’t come in. On the way to pick up my mom (we were still around the magallanes area when she saw her “friends”/co-teachers who all hitched a ride to edsa.
The Killers was currently playing that time, I hear murmurs of confusion and even amusement, the words tunog-addict (sounds wasted), Elton John, John Bon Jovi, was heard
Damn them, I said, wishing I installed eject chairs and I can just throw anybody out if they insulted what was on my car stereo, or just turn the music on higher
For someone who already is just hitching a ride, they sure got the guts to pick on what i was listening, let alone them joining us added an uncessesary 15 minutes of travel time since Edsa’s Taft –> Buendia has short lanes and really far u-turn slots.
I even told my sister after they got out of the car,
Tangina, don’t insult my the killers, and I won’t insult their Pelita Corales.
