Late Night Mayhem. O:

Well not really but still. I'm mostly on right now because... I don't wanna go in my room. I assure you that it's not because of a monster. I've taken care of those. It's because my grandmother's sleeping in my room. It's not as if I particularly mind... Well, I actually do particularly mind. That's why I'm complaining on the internet. There'd be no reason to talk about it to even a small extent if I didn't care enough to complain.

Summer break just started after all and I can finally get some good sleep. usually until about 10 AM. It's healthy though. I'm able to balance it all out because I sleep at 1 or 2 in the morning. That gives me a good 8 or 9 hours of sleep. Wonderful, right? I had a good time planned to make use of these hours, which I'll delve into later. Now that she's sleeping there though... I go to "bed" at about 10ish in the evening. And sleep. That's unhealthy because I still sleep until 10 AM or so. 12 hours of sleep? That's not good.

Enough of the bitching about it. All I wanted was to be able to watch my animu backlog and play visual novels in privacy on my new-old laptop. I can finally watch mkv files which have plagued me ever since I started getting into animu. Now I can watch deliciously high quality files smoothly. I just got Welcome to the NHK in my system and conspiracies have taken my life over. Well not really because I can't watch it. e_e

I've also planned to play Da Capo and Fate/Stay Night. Awesome shit. Da Capo is a sweethearted romance and Fate/Stay Night is exciting for a read. Man. Such wasted time. :/ I'm bored now though so I'm cutting this down fast. Peace Out.

Did I really say Peace Out? That sounds so stupid. >_>

Now Playing: Attack - 30 Seconds to Mars I like the song. Sue me.

Thought of the Day: That kid in Chitti Chitti Bang Bang has a large butt. I can't help notice it...

My Rizal Blog MkII

Regarding the issue of Rizal writing a retraction letter, as much as I’d like to think that Rizal had bit written a retraction, it seems to be hard to believe that he didn’t write one. This may not be the obvious choice but let’s think it out a little more.

It seems to be quite true that Rizal had become a man interested in his life as seen by his attempt to travel to South America for a malaria outbreak. This interest in his own life had some believing him to be a coward. Yet if he stayed in the Archipelago, what would have awaited him? Death, that’s what. It’s thoroughly convincing that he believed in the principle that he who fights and runs away may live to fight another day. If he just had laid down his life, he’d be giving up. Rather, he chose to try and extend his life by travelling to South America, perhaps biding his time.

He was, however, captured and went to Dapitan without much of a fight, most likely thinking that struggling wouldn’t help. He is now faced with the Spanish authorities, read the Catholic Church, and is at their mercy. What other choice would he have than to sign a retraction with, perhaps, a promise of release or at least a prolonging of his life? Rizal wasn’t a fool. He thought with logic and despite his principles, he knew that if he were free, he could pull a 180 and fight with even more fervor to make sure that the contents of this retraction would be disregarded.

This would seem extremely hypocritical though. The Filipino people were deeply affected by words and actions, his signing a retraction would have been a liability to him if he ever got out of prison. It also wouldn’t be above the Spanish to force Rizal through any number of methods. His heroism would of course be affected by a retraction.

On the case that he willingly signed it to extend his lifetime, it would have been a great blow on his credibility and probably reduce his status as a hero by leaps. Imagine how the resistance would feel that he would throw away all he worked for in some desperate attempt for life. How could they bare such embarrassment? On the other hand being forced into a signing, as was most likely the case, it would add humanism to our hero and not as the spotless and incorruptible man we usually see him represented as yet still a representative of heroism.

I suck.

This is not an overstatement. Or an understatement. I just wanna take this time to hurt myself like the M I am. If you don't get what I mean by M, that might be a good thing but if you're curious try watching Gintama. It should be somewhere there.

Back to the self-loathing. Actually, this mostly came up because I lost my phone. Again. The first was a stupid mistake during a school-sponsored marathon. The second was F'ing stolen. Bastards. The third was on a tricycle ride with my sister. Thankfully she found it when leaving and gave it back later that day. The last one was a few days ago. Another tricycle. Mostly because of their low seats and my loose-pocketed trousers. Did I just say trousers? I must have; I typed it after all. That's besides the point. I'm such a spaz.

I'm also stupid academically. People praise me but I'm really quite dumb. I never bother to work at anything. HEY! I'm also lazy apparently. Anyways, I remember the last quiz I had in integral calculus. I got a 15. Bloody 15 points. >:|

I'm not fully to blame, or so I'm told. I was passing the class so I, along with 8 other people, got a special test sort of thing. That was totally the wrong thing to do, passing. Well currently I'm passing the class with 15 other people in a class of about 50. I suppose I should feel good about this but I'm only passing by the skin of my teeth. I'm not even sure teeth HAVE skin.

Oh. Did I mention I've spent an estimated 400 dollars on manga, figures, and posters? I mean, I've saved quite a lot on those purchases but it's kind of sad if you think about it in the local currency. It sounds even worse when you say that you've spent 20,000 pesos on this sort of thing. If I make an estimate... I have about 80 volumes of manga, 13 Gunplas [Gundam plastic models], 17 assorted figurines, a Deathnote box set, and say 10 posters. I feel a bit worse now that I list it out like this. Man. I know it's not that much compared to a lot of people but on a normal sense... I'm such a loser.

At least I've been on a date. Which brings me to another point in that I'm such a spaz with her. She even says that she acts more like the guy with her pushing of the relational type things. I just don't like pushing things that don't need to be pushed. Is that so bad? I'm not really the type to do or talk of this sort of thing so let's skip it. Just know that I'm a pansy.

Let's talk more of school then. I don't do anything, remember? I fe--

I lost my train of thought reading Princess Lucia. A newly translated manga somewhere. I have a short attention span. End post.

Now Playing: Ask DNA - The Seatbelts The theme song from the Cowboy Bebop movie. It's really fun. The movie and the song. I especially love the part where he sings out that Buddha loves you and Jesus saves.

Thought of the day: I suck.

Speaking of school...

You know, that was for my Rizal Class. I bet you couldn't guess. It's kind of rushed and sloppy. I wasn't too interested in the topic. It's pretty boring and plain a topic to be creative. And we had a limit of only a single page on MSWord, possibly with 1.5 line spacing which I didn't want to use. There's nothing to be proud of if you can write that much. A middle-schooler should be able to write that much. Hell. We had a minimum of words to write. 180 words. I've used more words in MSN conversations with my friend Lochy. 180 isn't much of a standard. Much less for a college level class.

Am I being elitist? Maybe I'm being extremely critical of today's youth. Maybe I'm just bitter. I remember back in elementary school when we were forced to read books so we could pass. I also remember that I got free pizza if read enough books. Reading was fun, I read bunches of books - Huck Finn, Desperation, Onion John, and things like that. That was in the 5th grade. 5th grade. This started not only in the 5th grade but as early as 3rd grade. It was a brilliant idea to force children to increase their literacy. Books are wonderful gateways to excitement and all that jazz. Now they don't. What the hell.

It might be that it's a different school system but that doesn't excuse the illiteracy that I have observed. I don't want to be so opinionated but I've observed it firsthand. My younger sister doesn't read that much. I'm ashamed. Deeply ashamed. Maybe not deeply but she doesn't read enough for her own good. We have several shelves of grade school level books, particularly in my older sister's room. I clearly know that there are dozens of Baby Sitters Club or Sweet Valley High books. One or the other. Maybe it's not that clear but that doesn't deter the point I want to show. We have the means but she doesn't use 'em.

I now want to vent a bit about my last few English professors. One teacher wasn't exactly a bad teacher, not in the least. However, there was one question in a certain quiz that discredited any faith I had in her profession. Stay with me here, it's not heinous for most people but if this was heard by sound-minded people, there will be RAGE. Now the question in... question: What is the book of all books, the greatest book of all time, etc. etc. ? Some of you might be anticipating the answer and I'm sure you might be right. Her answer? The Bible. The bloody Bible. I have no problem with the Bible as a piece of literature, it's actually quite nice, I've read it. But let's be honest, greatest book of ever? That's just too opinionated and close-minded to be in good taste. She's only lucky it's a Catholic-themed country or there will be head rolling.

The second teacher is also a fine teacher, I suppose. It's just that she's old. Yeah. Old. Geriatric. She isn't extremely old, maybe. In her 60's probably. It's a minor complaint really. It isn't the fact that she's old but that she thinks certain things are still a modern representation of the world today. The thing that caught my ear: "Negro people use the slang term flatfoot to refer to the police." Like I said, minor. First, she used the word Negro. I'm not racist or really aware of political correctness but I'm thinking Negro is more derogatory than Black. I remember watching The Color of Friendship on Disney a few years ago and that I realized that there are so many ways to refer to Black people that it's racist. I think most people can agree that saying Black is just dandy. At least better than Negro. Especially in a class of purely Asians where there is no risk in being a racist bigot.

Next word. Flatfoot. It's quite true that Flatfoot refers to the police, detectives in particular. It is not true that it is used purely by Black people. Notice how I didn't say Negro. It's mostly used by gangsters of the mafia sort. In the 1930's. Wow. Think about that. I would understand if she used the term Popos in that example but Flatfoot? Man. Get with the times.

I guess I'm just being picky but it gets on my nerves. Enough of venting though. I'm tired. I just hope that the school systems would some how pick up the slack. I also wish the libraries would have a better fiction section. Bookstores too. Eh. Too bad. One can dream.

NP: Vintage Queen - Goldfinger What can I say? I love Goldfinger to bits and this song is just honey in my ears.

Thought of the day: Don't believe in yourself. Believe in me who believes in you.

For school

My Rizal Blog

There is one main reason that Filipinos have in leaving their country, the Philippines, and that would be financial reasons. It is a somewhat common fact that Filipinos have a tendency to think that the only way to get the real money is to leave their country. We have come to believe in the saying that the grass is greener on the other side and have decided that we want that grass. A vast amount of Filipinos have gone abroad to the Middle East, Europe, and North America in the hope that they can better their own life as well as their family through the money that they expect to earn. Sometimes, though, this may not come to fruition.

This leads us to an underlying fact that many Filipinos believe that the only road to a fulfilled life is the road out of the Philippines. The privileged few are able to send themselves to school out of country for their tertiary education for a jumpstart in a career. They’re also able to find doctors out of the country for extremely complicated procedures that the doctors in the Philippines are not ready to handle, or so they believe. Going on this belief – that there are greener pastures – many also believe that sneaking out of the Philippines and into their country of choice will give them a new chance at life and a positive outlook.

In future response to this culture of leaving our own country, Rizal could have been saying quite a lot to us. He himself had left the Philippines in order to escape the prying eyes of the authorities and also to educate himself. He had a passion to establish a country of equality in the Philippines and saw to it that he would do everything in his power to make sure that he would succeed. Using himself as an example, wouldn’t it be possible that he wanted to tell the Filipinos to not only further their own comfort but to help Mother Philippines?

He could have been trying to tell us that we mustn’t think of purely selfish reasons when leaving the country but have the clarity to remember our roots and try to help our country in any way we can. For those working abroad, they should remember their family and help out in at least a financial way. For those being educated abroad, it’s quite obvious on what they should do – go use their newly attained skills to aid in the progress of the Philippines. It may be a reversal of what they did in trying to escape from the Philippines but it’s sometimes said that those who have forgotten where they have come from have forgotten their own selves.

The main aspect I want to show here in this short piece is how the Filipinos who go abroad in furthering their own lives need to live their life and try their hardest for success. In succeeding, they shouldn’t keep to themselves the fruits of their harvest but also share this success with their home country. This choice, as stated, is strictly limited to the Filipinos who have gone out of country to live a better lifestyle whether it is by working or learning.

What thoughts?

lol I was lying.

NP: Shut Up And Explode - Boom Boom Satellites I want to watch the anime purely for this song.

Thought of the Day: Whatever happens, happens.

Another Telling

To properly understand the gravity of the situation that Billy Jean had just undergone, it is imperative to understand one simple thing. First, let us repeat a paragraph from the last bit.

He was hidden behind a conveniently placed tree. Its trunk was large enough to hide even two grown men. He was thinking it was an oak but in all honesty he wouldn’t be able to tell a palm tree from pine tree. He was a red-blooded American through and through. That was his main problem.

He had many secondary problems as well. He had a family history of Diabetes and as a child he was never allowed to touch sugary food. He would lust for chocolate but it was never given to him. This made him a bitter child and somebody you'd hate to meet the day after Halloween. A more plot-relevant problem was that he had the most fantastic delusions.

A long history of sugar deprivation, child abuse, and depression had led him to severe psychological disorders. It would take quite a while to explain the inner workings, so let's cut to the chase. The man, Billy Jean, currently, thought he was a Cowboy from the 1880's on a vendetta for his deceased family. He based this all on old Western films that he saw as a child.

It would be best to start the story from the beginning then.

“Injuns.”

A ragged voice whispered under his breath. His face was sweating and greasy. Nothing in the world could tear his gaze away from the sight he was beholding.

“Them dirty injuns. Thinkin’ they can outsmart me… I’m gon’ show them rascals.”

The man stroked his gun. It was a beautiful .45 Colt Peacemaker and virtually his only source of joy. He stroked it like a lover, gentle yet firm. He held it close to him like he was a child, helpless if it weren’t for his parent. Most of all though, he was loading it like a gun, ready for the kill.

“I’m gon’ show them what for. They can’t fool me. I’m educated. They can’t fool an American,” he assured himself as he spotted a 6 year old boy wearing a smartly worn grey shirt. He shooed him quickly away. The boy ran over to his mother who was chatting away on a park bench 20 seconds away.

He was hidden behind a conveniently placed tree. It was, in fact, an oak tree. What's more, it was growing in the front yard of a prominent young businessman who was busy washing his car. A lovely red Accord that complimented his smile and stature near-perfectly.

The suburban street was filled with a tangy air of barbecue. There was a small party several houses away. Billy Jean spotted a few lawn gnomes. He eyed them shortly in awe as he mistook them for tumbleweeds. He kissed his gun's barrel while the businessman vacuumed up the trunk of his car.

The businessman's home was a nice two story home, newly built, and without blemish. Billy Jean was watching his movement's closely. He liked the horse he saw. It was still a car though but that didn't bother him a bit as he plotted how he'd snatch it from his enemy's hold.

He aimed his revolver with a steady hand and shot. A deafening crack rang out and as did a scream. The bullet hit the businessman’s shoulder and he was writhing with pain on the dusty ground. The gunshot rang throughout the block. A man from the barbecue ran out to see what was going on and just as quickly called the police on his phone. The women and children at the park were running to their own homes in fear.

“Dirty Redskin! That’ll learn ya to mess with Buckin’ Billy Jean!” said the man in triumph. He was running towards the downed man ready for the kill. He aimed his gun again but at point black range. He slowly put it down after a moment’s hesitation.

“I’m better ‘n you. I won’t kill ya and dirty my bullets.” Buckin’ Billy Jean thought this was a rather noble line as he mounted his new found horse. “I’m a good soul and may God in heav’n have mercy on yer soul.”

The key was in the man's pocket and Billy Jean grabbed a hold of them. It's quite amazing that his body didn't follow his mind completely, otherwise he'd be whipping a car to go. What was even more amazing was that he got this far without being too closely noticed by any bystanders. Most likely they thought he was a bum and should be left alone.

The sound of several sirens filled the air as two patrol cars rushed down the street towards Billy Jean. He was already speeding down the suburbs at freeway speeds.

“Dirty cheats.” He whispered to himself as he looked towards the patrol cars and suddenly spun out as he hit a spiked strip of road.

He jumped out of the car. He was surrounded by 4 policemen. They approached him carefully, calling him to assume the position and surrender. Billy Jean heard gibberish. He was waving his revolver around and the officers knew they couldn't risk any civilian injury. One lunged at him from the side and fired off a taser. A quick buzz ran through Billy Jean.

“YA DIRTY REDSKINS WILL NEVER BREAK OLE BUCKIN’ BILLY JEAN!” screamed the psychotic man as the officers shot off another taser to subdue the criminal.

It wasn't exactly great but I think it was an alright job. I have another post after this for some thoughts running in my head. Most likely.

Another one, yo

"Injuns."

A ragged voice whispered under his breath. His face was sweating and greasy. Nothing in the world could tear his gaze away from the sight he was beholding.

"Them dirty injuns. Thinkin' they can outsmart me... I'm gon' show them rascals."

The man stroked his gun. It was a beautiful .45 Colt Peacemaker and virtually his only source of joy. He stroked it like a lover, gentle yet firm. He held it close to him like he was a child, helpless if it weren't for his parent. Most of all though, he was loading it like a gun, ready for the kill.

"I'm gon' show them what for. They can't fool me. I'm educated. They can't fool an American," he assured himself as he spotted a small grey rabbit in the corner of his eye. He shooed it away quickly.

He was hidden behind a conveniently placed tree. Its trunk was large enough to hide even two grown men. He was thinking it was an oak but in all honesty he wouldn't be able to tell a palm tree from pine tree. He was a red-blooded American through and through. That was his main problem.

The wasteland of a plain was filled with a stagnant air. Tumbleweeds were always a household myth, but he could make out a few in the distance. He could see the reason he was in hiding in the first place - An Indian, a heathen treading upon this holy land. He raised his revolver to his mouth and kissed its shining barrel. God was on his side and he knew it.

The Indian was standing near a cleverly made solitary wigwam and brushing a beautiful chestnut toned horse. The man knew that it was a fine breed and could probably outrun a train. He'll have it off the dirty heathen. Indians didn't deserve such a beautiful creature. That was a wonderful plan, he thought. The time to act was now.

He aimed his revolver with a steady hand and shot. A deafening crack rang out and as did a scream. The bullet hit the Indian's shoulder and he was writhing with pain on the dusty ground.

"Dirty Redskin! That'll learn ya to mess with Buckin' Billy Jean!" said the man in triumph. He was running towards the downed Indian ready for the kill. He aimed his gun again but at point black range. He slowly put it down after a moment's hesitation.

"I'm better 'n you. I won't kill ya and dirty my bullets." Buckin' Billy Jean thought this was a rather noble line as he mounted his new found horse. "I'm a good soul and may God in heav'n have mercy on yer soul."

He took off and galloped towards the sunset. Unfortunately, his heroism was short lived as nearly a dozen Indians rounded him off on both flanks.

"Dirty cheats." He whispered to himself as he looked towards the left and hit a rock on his right. He tumbled into a state of half-consciousness.

Indians on all sides. This wasn't good for him at all, he thought. An Indian stabbed him. He nearly lost consciousness. Billy Jean's breath was heavy with fatigue. He started to lose focus and could only make out blobs of color. The red was closing in on him as the blue was being blotted out. A dull grey dotted the red at uneven intervals.

"YA DIRTY REDSKINS WILL NEVER BREAK OLE BUCKIN' BILLY JEAN!" screamed the cowboy as he slowly passed out.

Actually I don't really like how this turned out. I liked it up until I had to go back to the story after talking about Billy Jean's problems. After that, I just kind of muddled myself into an end. I ll need to clean this up somehow to be somewhat decent.

I just got the idea to try and fix this up somehow by trying to seperate the real from the delusional as will be seen in the next post. I think it was a stroke of pure genius. And I personally think it gives me the freedom to add a bit more detail here and there without worrying about space constraints.

Something Literate.

Reboot Started. Loading preferences.

D-AN3Y was starting up.

Logic Circuits Enabled. Running At 82 Percent Power.

It was a very loud start up process despite it mainly involving software checks. Its noise was not unlike a lawnmower.

Start Up Successful. Have A Wonderful Day.

D-AN3Y started to slowly move his joints. His eyes shone with a strange happiness. He tried to blink. He failed. He had just remembered that he was a robot and incapable of blinking. And having a gender, though this did not hinder him of thinking of himself in a masculine way. He decided to flash his eye-shaped lights a bit. This made him feel a bit better.

He was unfamiliar to the room he was sitting in. He glanced around to see pure white walls topped off with a pure white ceiling. He had a sinking suspicion that if he took a look down, he'd see a pure white floor as well. He was not disappointed as he could see a porcelain floor, not a blemish in sight.

He started to get a feeling that if he took a step, the room would start to crack. This started to seem less important as soon as he realized that he was inside the room itself. There was no perceivable way to get inside. Or outside for that matter. Any crack that would hint at a doorway would be immediately noticeable.

He was starting to get extremely panicky. This didn't bode well with him. He started to think to himself.

"How in blazes did I get here? Just how long was I out?"

He then realized that he was thinking. He just hated when he realized that he was thinking. His logic circuits overloaded and he shut himself down.

Reboot Started. Loading Preferences.

D-AN3Y was starting up. Again.

Logic Circuits Enabled. Running At 74 Percent Power.

D-AN3Y's start up was noisy as ever. The room filled with noise again. Its echoing revs something it has grown used to.

Start Up Successful. Have A Wonderful Day.

D-AN3Y's started to move his creaking joints once again.

"It's such a horrible thing being an old model, eh?" He muttered to nobody in particular.

Something was strange. The room was different somehow. If he didn't focus enough, it was nearly impossible to notice. The pure whiteness of the room didn't seem to change. Yet it somehow did. Was it a shade more white? Was that even possible? He took a quick check in his mind. Or what a robot's mind is supposed to be.

He found nothing relevant.

"Bugger."

He was getting a tad frustrated. Something caught his eye. It was a flash of black. That was definitely noticeable in such a room. He turned around and eyed every corner of the room. No luck. The whiteness made the room seem like an infinite space.

He took another look around. Something was definitely wrong this time. For one, the room was no longer white. It was brown and made of wood.

And filled with livestock. Honest to goodness livestock. Tagged ears, cuds in mouth, sweaty tails flicking at flies.

Suddenly the livestock got agitated. Was it the sudden revving of D-AN3Y's head that got to them? Maybe the sudden appearance of a robot go them all shook up? Whatever the reason, they started a bovine riot.

They were aiming for him. They were out for blood. 3 seconds later D-AN3Y was hit by a severe electric shock.

"Oh bother. Not again." He muttered just before he shut down for the 10th time in a span of 30 minutes.

His start up sequences began for the 11th time in a room he has never been in, in a ship he has never ridden, in a galaxy he has never visited, and in a universe he never knew existed.

Yes, I know I'm just trying to emulate Douglas Adams. How unoriginal, you're thinking to yourself. Shove it. I'm just trying to find a way to be witty. Other things will be happening. So cram your criticism.

This is me thinking in hindsight that none of you, all two of you, will actually know who Douglas Adams is. You sicken me.

Yowza.

I'm currently watching a Bond movie. According to my dad, who is usually very good with this sort of thing, it's Moonraker. For the 20 minutes I've been watching it... Hot damn dang. There's been a guy with full metal teeth fighting Bond on a Gondola in Switzerland, Christian monks doing Judo, and explosions everywhere. Watching this just gets my blood pumping.

Enough of th- Oh shit shoot. Bond just jumped off a moving speedboat and started gliding over a waterfall. I'm sold. Bond is my new hero.

Enough of that. As much as I would like to comment on this awesome snake-Bond battle to the death, this should not be my intention. It gets harder and harder the more it passes.

My true intention of this post is to make this Blog stuff seem somewhat regular. And also to procrastinate on working on Government homework. That's mostly it. Can't get any truer than that. Just like saying my arms hurt. Like hell heck.

I played volleyball today, again to procrastinate. It makes my arms hurt yet I do it anyways. Lord knows why. Fun for sure but is the pain really worth it? Let me have a brief overview of pain. I've read somewhere that pain is the body's way of telling you to stop what you're doing or else you'll die. Some sort of sensor that tells you that you can feel or something.

Some neurotic I've read a bit about said that he doesn't enjoy using pain killers whenever he's had operations or breaking something or whatnot. His reasoning - if he doesn't feel he pain, it's as if he isn't feeling what he's supposed to be feeling and making him less human. Wowsers.

Actually, right now, I don't like the pain. It's a jerk. A big, arm-numbing jerk. It's making it hard to type. Seriously, I've had to edit this post about 2 times since posting. Pain, is a cool thing sometimes though. It makes man laugh. Tell me that you haven't. Wait. Just a minute. The Bond movie has this awesome space-laser battle scene right now.

Where was I? Hm. Pain, cool thing, laughter. Right. I lost my momentum. End post.

Now Playing: Sleep Now In The Fire - Rage Against The Machine. Much love to RATM. This is one of my favorite songs. I've been meaning to watch the video but never get around to it. I heard it was shot in Wall Street and by Michael Moore, director of documentaries such as Sicko, Fahrenheit 9/11, and Bowling for Columbine. I also heard that he was almost arrested while shooting it.

Wow. Bond just shot the Big Bad into an airlock and launched him into space. Wow.

Thought of the day: I wish fifth grade was more like Today in Class 5-2. What a disappointing childhood. Or lack thereof.

Maiden Post

Ho hum. Do you know me? I hope you do and if not, a pleasure to meet you. Or something. Whatever, you probably know me or you wouldn't even bother reading this. If you are by chance reading this despite that circumstance... I'm quite glad I'm not as bored as you.

This is apparently a blog. What possessed me to write this is actually just what I've been wondering for a little while. I've really just thought that this would be something good to kill time. I just love killing time. Though I'm guessing time would rather I stopped. Tough love.

On the note of killing time, I'm actually supposed to be making some presentation for Rizal which I'm obviously not doing. Isn't that dandy? I'd love to work on it but it kind of just makes me sleepy and distracted the more I need to work on it.

Back to the should-be-blog. I'm hoping that I'd be able to change things here and there to make things more pretty. Pretty things are nice. I probably won't since I'm easily distracted. Again, I point to that Rizal presentation. Oh yeah.

What the hell hey am I supposed to type here anyways? Thoughts on life? Day-to-day experiences? Who knows? I should but I don't which is kind of annoying. I'll start off nice and easy for now and keep it short.

Now Playing: Bakusou Yumeuta - Diggy-MO' - From the anime Soul Eater. The third ending. It's funky fresh and easily catchy. The anime itself is pretty good and you better look into it if possible - People turning into guns and scythes is damn awesome.

Thought of the day: It's hard to come up with these on the spot.