thoughts while at mcdo moa

April 27, 2010, at Mcdo MOA waiting for 9:30am so I can finally walk to SM and do the song and dance

Yesterday I realized I keep getting the “busy yet bored” feeling. Deconstruction ensues:
The deluge of work I have to deal with is overwhelming that I can’t cope – source of BUSY feeling
But the work is not thrilling enough – source of BORED feeling
The wordsmiths should coin a word for this mood.

Let me fantasize… Here are some of the jobs I dream about…
1. Writer – Writing as an outlet of hypergraphia ~ or translating? Pagaya Bea. But my Filipino is crap.
2. Philosopher – While dressing up for work earlier, I briefly fantasized about being born in the “philosopher’s era”, if there is such thing, and being among them great thinkers. Beautiful profession.
3. Businessman – Most grounded of the fantasy jobs. Effort = Pay-off. No politics, no ass-kissing. But capital is a pre-requisite, which unfortunately I don’t have. Too bad.
4. Creative (Art Director or Copywriter) – I jizz at the thought. But I don’t think I’d do good because I tend to choke.

I wonder what people think of people who publicly write. Is it assumed that people who write have substance, because what else will you write about but ideas…? Well. They could be maudlin diarists who blog like what I’m doing now. Kadiri, I wouldn’t want to be labelled as such but I think I am. Maudlin diarists are at the bottom of the literary food chain because the writings are NOT DESIRABLE for public consumption due to the egocentric / too personal / too intimate nature. And for God’s* sake, it just talks about the daily misadventures of the writer.
*if a God exists, that is.

I finished my coffee already…. But I want to document the idea which purports how everything you do, even the mighty littlest things, is based on what you think are the objectives of your life. For instance, my simplified main objective in life is to live it to the fullest. Thus all actions aim optimization.

(Digression alert) I don’t care about physical chaos though, but I deeply care / I’m super OC about idea structures and systems. Physical chaos could be ignored.


Musing of the day: What if I just write continuously for one week? Will I get sick of it a la Diminising Marginal Utility? Will I be able to make a book by structuring it? If made public, can it be like a performance art? If I were filthy rich, I would like to be a hardcore artist.

Fodder for editing.


about the tongue: taste and language

The SYSU/ABS-CBN scrumptious working lunch in X floor made me realize that I have neglected to document one underrated yet important sense: TASTE.

Ironically, my earliest memories of hypergraphia dates back to my 2nd year college self commuting via FX, who wrote about her cravings for Starbucks, describing the details of taste explosion between the cheeks.


5:39pm. Waiting for Leslie in Mary Grace, High Street.

We will watch Himpapawid later c/o Adobo Magazine.

Some observations and insights:

The demographic who hangs out in High Street stereotypically speaks English or they are at least very coñotic. This leads me to conclude that indeed language is a reflection of an individual’s history.

More insight-probing:
Filipinos who are English speakers are (1) educated and (2) have been exposed to an environment where English is the primary language, i.e. parents must be part of the affluent corporate landscape wherein they are required to communicate in the global language. These observations have created then an association that English speakers are rich and educated; a status is automatically attached to such behavior. This “stigma” furthered the desire to use English as (3) aspirational association to the demographic.

But the phenomenon just happens, sans all the overanalysis by Czar. It just happens naturally, without any expressed rationales …like any other social phenomenon. (Egoc moment: would I pass for an amateur sociologist? :P)
Zooming out of this particular AB English-speaker case,
Some aspects of language that may reflect an individual’s history:
– mother tongue
– other languages one can speak and/or write
– accents

Leslie is here.

verdict: i have hypergraphia

April 6, 2010, 8:16am, at the family carpool

Last night I discovered I am hypergraphic.
(Thanks for the pre-diagnosis, Bea.)

Hypergraphia is defined as the unusual overwhelming urge to write, which I exhibit. Dudes, read this: I write in buses, FXs, shopping malls, cars, parties, etc.

Hypergraphic writing is not necessarily good, but an article I read last night mentioned it could be “fodder” for editing, which hits the bull’s eye, as most of the time my writings on the notebook are very raw, drafty, unstructured and upon encoding in LJ, I am able to polish and make them more coherent. Picture perfect!

Hypergraphic content is usually driven by philosophical or religious musings, if not autobiographic. And again, bull’s eye. I remember waxing philo as early as 3rd year college, and writing my autobiography as early as 1st year college.

Fuck, it all makes sense now. Some of these instances exhibit hypergraphia:
– I remember that particular first day in Bates. I was pre-lunch time, and I wanted to document my experience so far. I furiously wrote on my tiny orange GSK notebook. Pinagkasya ang florid descriptions of the think tank et al in that tiny writing device. Just because I felt the need to write everything down.
– I also look back on all my drunken moments. In my most judgment impaired state, all I still want to do is write (which got me into trouble haha).
– And there was this other time when I mentioned to Aries how much I love composing work-related emails.

Fuck it all makes sense now.

But would I want to marry another hypergraphic? Maybe not. Imagine–writing together. What a lame bonding experience. Hahaha.


April 6, 2010, 9:30am, at a Client’s lobby

+ Sleepy. I want to fall off this chair, then fall asleep. Fall asleep, then fall apart.

+ A random juxtaposition of book titles: Disgrace. Things Fall Apart. Never Let Me Go.

+ This self-diagnosis of hypergraphia bothers me. Now I write partly because I think I am hypergraphic. Though the accidental discovery is still amazing and it made everything make sense, it’s disheartening to realize my behavior is predictable. I believed all my life that my actions are unique to me. But no. Lo and behold, I exhibit hypergraphic symptoms so precisely. I am predictable, just like how autistics are predictably unemphatic. The philosophical and religious musings are but typical results of the temporal lobe achuchu hypergraphics possess.

deconstruction of bncm’s writings

(De Ja Vu, right here, right now. Anyhow.)
March 27, 2010, Saturday, 10:14 am, at Starbucks GB

To understand why I am so in awe of Bea Mariano’s life snippets in LJ
Read her blog here:

Deconstruction Proper:
Her experiences feel so raw and real because of the palpable detail of the details, yet sometimes they feel fictional because they glow with romance.
Her everyday random thoughts come together in an extraordinary juxtaposition. So very effortlessly at that.

The magnificence of her entries I am so in awe of possess three commendable elements:
1. Tasteful unconventional worldview. The world is perceived differently from her eyes.
2. Diligence. As exhibited by the mere volume of entries she has written.
3. Bravery. She is not afraid to leave her soulful thoughts in a blog. She is not afraid of the public. (I think)

I put her and her writings on a pedestal because I seem to lack each of the three, haha.

And you are so under-exposed. Why why why.

a clockwork orange by anthony burgess

I vowed not to post here until I finish Leslie’s write-up (sorry Les working on it; I will pay the fines!). But I cannot help it. I must write down my thoughts now (before my memory fails me) on A Clockwork Orange, novel by Anthony Burgess, popularly used as pop-culture reference due to its sheer epicness.

(Rant) I was mid-way that particular magnificent piece of literature yesterday, when Stairway Wit haunted me. I remembered my shallow status post in Facebook broadcasting how I found a Nadsat dictionary online, so I can decipher the Slavic words interspersed in the book’s Nadsatic conversation. I focused too much on finding a reading aid, tippest of the icebergest …when ACO’s greatness roots from its concept. Gog. On to the discourse…

ACO is famous for being a difficult read (like Trainspotting). I am a proud graduate. And like all other alumni, I agree that the language barrier was daunting at first, but after finishing 3-5 chapters, reading was a breeze. May learning curve lang.
Burgess’s dystopia revealed that each of its demographic had a different dialect–very Babel. This is the source of conflict mismo–misunderstanding. And this is depicted by form with a language you have to learn on the spot. So form plays an important role after all in helping the reader understand the concept in a more involved manner. Subliminally though. Haha.

On another note, the Ludovico technique was brilliant. Simple psychology as panacea to a dystopic society. I just shudder at the thought of the Government “curing” the violent behavior superficially through classical conditioning. Why don’t they find out why the Nadsats are behaving this way, then attack the source.
ACO also raised ethical questions about freewill. (But I’m too lazy to think about it now hehehe)

Let’s see after a week…

I think the film addaptation by Stanly Kubrick was instrumental in transforming it into a pop culture consumable. Kubrick has this way of making something reference and spoof-worthy. Some of which are: Alex’s long right eyelashes, Singing in the Rain break-in scene, William Tell Overture fast-forwarded sex scene; the sinny chair contraption. Concept, kudos to Burgess. Execution kudos to Kubrick. Ang galing niyo!

It was a great pleasure reading ACO. Thank you, Anthony Burgess.