johny's eviction....

there is such a thing as GOOD RIDDANCE....

BYE JOHNY!!!!!!!!

for our sanity's sake,may you have the good sense

of never coming back........

sing your heart OUT

Finally,I found the right lyrics.Strange,but it seems tailor-made to vent out pent-up emotions..
Lindasy Lohan THIS I have to say..Aside from Parent Trap and Mean Girls,I have another reason to thank YOU!





Something I Never Had

» Lindsay Lohan

Do you see me
Do you feel me like I feel you
Call your number
I can not get through
You don't hear me and I dont understand
When I reach out I dont find your hand
Was it wasted words and did they mean a thing
And all our precious time but I still feel so in between
[Chorus:]Some day I just keep pretending
That youll say dreaming of a diffrent ending
I wanna hold on but it hurts so bad
And I can't keep something that I never had
I keep tell myself things can turn around with time
And if I wait it out you could always change your mind
Like a fairy tale where it works out in the end
Can I close my eyes have you lying here again
Then I come back down
They I fade back in
Then I realize its just what Its just what might have been.
[chorus]
Am I a shadow on your wall
Am I anything at all
Anything to you
Am I a secret that you keep
Do you dream me while your sleeping after all
Some day I just keep pretending
That youll say dreaming of a diffrent ending
I wanna hold on but it hurts so bad
And I can't keep something that I never had
That I never had
I wanna hold on but it hurts so bad
And I can't keep something that I never had
You dont see me, you dont feel me like I feel you

call him der-fa:-)

Hot Myspace Comments / Adultfriender

“Did you have a good night of sleep?” my father would ask. “I had, thanks to you and your shorts” and we will both laugh.
Those nights of never ending nightmares meant discomfort for my father too. He had to put up sleeping beside me and wearing those shorts I prepared for him because in my queer imagination,”it"was doing “wonders” to combat my bedtime nemesis. My parting phrase wasn't the conventional "See you in my dreams!" but “See you in my nightmares, Papa!”
Even after my nightmare scares, I watched him closely as possible. He frequented an enigmatic enclave in our backyard. I counted his trips daily and when it reached twelve, I brushed all hesitations of going there myself. I thought he built me a playhouse because the structure looked the part. I went inside; giddy to find out what’s there. Unknown to me, fighting cocks were kept flying in every direction. I run away sobbing. I felt cheated that my father cared to build something for the cocks and none for me.
To appease my jealousy, he and my mother commissioned carpenters to build Ate and I a playhouse.A sudden urge of elation filled me as it appeared imposing compared to my previous object of envy. But on the second day, I noticed how the cocks conspicuously grew more in number. Papa said the cocks were gifts not commodities he bought. He added he was not as attached to them as I thought he was. Unwilling to start a tantrum, I gave him the cold shoulder shrug. I run to the playhouse and spotted manures on its balcony. I went ballistic. I launched my vendetta by throwing two stones per cock. The smaller ones were for making a toilet bowl out of my playhouse. The larger ones were for those times Papa spent in kneading their feathers, feeding them with what looked to me as oatmeal, and nursing them back to health. I was the cock’s Cruella de Vil. My sight was enough reason for them to go amuck.
My hatred extended to all age groups of their specie. Even the tiny chicks fresh from eggshells weren’t spared. I drowned them in the tub. Papa caught me redhanded.During his interrogation, I said in exaggerated insincerity “Papa, I just wanted to give them a bath”. He gave me a look that was more amused than annoyed.
He was the quintessential provincial man-one who loved the laid back and carefree compass of rustic lifestyle. There was nothing he loved to do more than commune with nature. Blessed with a green thumb, he would let me sit beside him as he planted varied fruit trees. He would tell me that planting pays off for every seedling you bury may reward you with multiple harvests.
So in my perverted logic, I tweaked the principle of multiplicity. I gathered all my pencils in loam soil. I made sure there was enough distance because Papa told me distance is essential to avoid overlapping. My pencils never multiplied in number. They met their untimely demise on my hands. I should have known that my father wanted me to appreciate nature, not rupture.
A semblance of sameness from the rest disinterests him. He wanted whatever he gave me to be different. When he noticed that everybody’s baskets were filled with bougainvilleas, he took me to a floral estate fronting the beach so I could fill my Flores de Mayo baskets with fragrant calachuchis. All eyes and noses were on me as I traversed the narrow alley of the chapel and showered a fistful of petals in wanton freedom.
When I whimpered I couldn’t catch a butterfly on my palm, he brought home a huge brown one inside the container. The captivity may have signified more harm than good in the ecosystem but for all it’s worth, it was a sure manifestation of a splendid truth-he was willing to look beyond all my naughty streaks and do everything humanly possible to show me he cared.
In the haywire days of schooling, when tuition shaving and allowance padding was the popular scheme, I’d troop into money transfer booths and register the same old password he sends me “miss you”.
During my bonafide bum stint at home, he would call me from his office just to tell me that he spotted our dog making love with another dog and that I need not worry because the other dog was of a good breed. He listened to my stories about Barack Obama and why I adore him like crazy. The next day, he flipped through the pages of time magazine and read about the US President whose keynote speech made me cry. He kept bringing newspapers, waving it like a prized bone to a sniffing dog, asking me if I was done reading it. I’d say no, take a dive at the newspaper, and peruse it from top to bottom, irrespective of the fact that I already finished reading it as early as one am in the internet. Having a good father is genetic lottery .As they say; it’s easier for a father to have a child than for a child to have a real father. He wasn’t the kind of father who overdoses on sermons or was dependent on leather belts to instill discipline. My sisters and I grew up thinking that ours was a democratic household wherein we are free to talk without the horror of a maimed tongue or a bruised limb.
As proof, when my younger sister chided his bet Oscar de la Hoya as too slow and too old against Floyd Mayweather; he didn’t display the outrage of a fan. Instead, he was game to strike a deal that if de la Hoya losses, my sister’s wishes will be his commands. For one week, my sister enjoyed posting what to buy and what to do in the front door. He played the good sport, faithfully delivering the caprices of a seventeen year old.
He would always tell us that his greatest achievement was raising four independent girls whom at twelve can already make it on their own. I would have second the motion except for the fact that he didn’t just raise four; he raised five including my dewy-eyed Mom. But raising us would be too light a word to put it. He did more than that. He gave all of us a decent shot at life.
Like the gustiness of the wind, the years quickly passed. My nightmares have become anecdotal cobwebs. But he continued to be every inch of a savior that he was. He was there, tending to me when I was frail and febrile after incurring eight bee bites.He was with me, commiserating, when my heart was shrunken in despair and copious tear were welling out of my eyes. He was beside me, an hour and forty minutes before my twenty second birthday. In a narrow chair, he skimped with the space we shared as he listened to one of my favorite tracks. He reaffirmed it was a gem and as he placed back the headset on my ears, told me in a toothless smile that he loves me more.
Last New Year's eve, I made an oath to myself that everyday, I will wake up believing that if I try harder maybe my weaker faculties can still have its chance. I completely gave up on music though. But in a squeaky voice and spooky tune, I will still be crooning Tim McGraw’s "My little girl" song because I know that back home, a fifty-nine year old man who means the world to me, likes it as much as I do.

The Black Parade

May 1,2009-We had a collective decision,or so I thought,to have a silent protest for coming to work on Labor Day without just compensation. Over the long weekend,I had enough time to think on these twinges of emotion.

*To Maam April:

I will stand my ground that WHAT you DID was WRONG.You could have told us your hesitation rather than make us believe.First and foremost,you are our HEAD.Everything you say and everything you do directly affect us. Avoid playing with words. Don’t initiate an action if you mean to desert us. Don’t abuse confidence by name dropping.Don’t be a spineless fence-sitter.Granting,but not conceding,you are in a delicate position.But will a peaceful and well-meditated course of action be a valid threat to it?Certainly not. You said it was a case of being forgetful.I couldn’t think of a better rebuff than my friend’s question “Aren’t you paid to remember?” When I saw your eyes well out with tears,I felt your sincerity.And when I hugged you near my cubicle,it was a moving moment. Without sounding intrusive,I want to remind you that there are times when being sorry is more preferable than being safe.Don’t let your loyalty to your job distort your sense of right.With all sincerity,I’m letting bygones be bygones. Lastly,don’t think it’s doomsday.You can get over this.Learn from the rift. Being better sometimes comes with pain.

*To the Jeju team:
I remember Carla asking me is she could have the Korean message for her substitution class and me giving a “Can you ask my “bestfriend” to send it for you?. When the lesson plans were passed,I talked to Kota and requested him to deliver it to Maam April’s table. After “it” happened, Jely texted me telling she doesn’t know what to say. Drew has been there deliberately cracking jokes.,which,admittedly,helped,a little….hahaha… Irene has chosen to be mum and has been happy sporting her Korean hairstyle. Shortly saying, the bickering must have put them in an uncomfortable situation too. But what I’m proudest of my team mates is their professional sensitivity. Never had they badgered me to talk about it.Instead,we feasted on bukayo and made me feel that business was usual.

*To Taipan Diners:

Rose,Darryl,Cherryl,Nice,Sheng,Pao,Jane and Drew You asked if I wanted ice cream to cool down in jest but seeing you dine with me after that heated moment meant so MUCH.Nothing beats good food and a rowdy company to tame blazing emotions.

*To the one who signed but when asked was surprised of its contents:

Everytime you affix your signature,it’s a manifestation that you have completely understood what you are signing.It was explained that everybody can choose to sign or not to sign the document.It wasn’t an autograph or a send-off card that you can sign in haste.It was something important.If there was something you did not understand,you could have OPTED not to sign it.It’s a wiser decision rather than you sounding clueless and looking poker-faced.

*To the Management:

Let me make it clear,I did not shout.We were not at a close distance that’s why the volume of my voice was heightened.The only thing I will apologize for would be disturbing your investor who came to visit you at eleven pm. It’s high time for you to be more factual and to stop relying on hearsays. You had argued it was too urgent and that during your painful experience,we did not even have the sympathy to say condolence. We also felt sad when your family suffered those series of deaths.We even had a silent prayer during one of our meetings.Rose even cried when she heard the terrible news.In our simple ways,we tried to be sympathetic.Maybe not in the way you expected it,which is through uttering the word “condolence”,but WE WERE,believe it or not WITH YOU during those times. And with all due respect,abandon the PSYCHOLOGICAL WARFARE. Professionalism calls that you don’t put the burden of understanding you on your employees.The concerns written on that letter have long been overdue.Some have been waiting foe their lump sums not just for a month but for months.Hypothetically,what if that money was supposed to be used for this semester’s enrolment.Will the management’s personal tragedy justify the employees’ inability to enroll because of inadequate funds? It’s about time for the management to learn the art of constructive criticism.Of course,the letter will be firm-worded and it wouldn’t be written in the same fashion as the letters of requests that you often receive.But you should be less cynical and instead of over reacting,review if the the points have merits.

What saddens me the most is the fact that there’s got to be “something to happen” before you would sit down and conduct a meeting. The office has an intelligent workforce and it is but fair to constantly hear them out.
Would you rather that employees keep it to themselves,be dissatisfied,and in effect have poor performance at work?
Feedback is healthy.It’s a way to implement checks and balances.The management should learn that its sole duty is not only in giving wages every 15th or 30th of the month.That would be very myopic.You have a lofty vision and the only way to do it is for the company to institutionalize timely changes.Surely,business acumen isn’t just concentrated in amassing profits.There’s got to be room for taking good care of your employees for if you’ll do,you’ll make it harder for them to not take care of their jobs.

*To Louise:

I don’t know if it would have been different had you been around last Tuesday night.But when we had the sit down meeting and I was unexplainably hurt,you got my reasons come across.Aside from being articulate,you had shown how level-headed and objective you are. You had spelled out the word LOYALTY in bold letters to me. In your presence,I become more insightful,more vocal,more prescient,less hungry and okay I’ll try to be less toddler-like in saying hello.hahaha

*To all those who witnessed it :

Many of you were confused.Many of you were anxious.Some of you were entertained.But beyond the dynamic exchanges,I hope it made you THINK.It has never been about Maam April and me.It’s about what we believe and how we decided to act on those beliefs.What happened last Tuesday should not sidetrack the real issues for its what count the most.

*To Myself :

Last week was unusual.I have known you to be feisty but this feistiness is often limited to debate matches.You always have that everything-is-peachy attitude and you value your peace above all else.

But I saw you provoked and the next thing I knew you were fuming.
I. Part of the fury was the issue on trust.You spent sleepless nights drafting the letters,taking instructions on what to include and what not to include,furnishing both soft copies and hard copies for editing and before you know it the very person you trusted put you on the line.
II. Another would be loyalty to a cause.You can’t believe how somebody you had respected could abandon a valid cause.Worst,what piqued you was you learned about it at the last moment.
III. It’s also about a distorted view on leadership.
You were schooled thinking that leaders (with the exception of nasty politics) put themselves last not first.
IV. You were angered by continuous story switching.
It’s heart wrenching to be lied and when you hear it over and over again,you just explode.But looking back,I like the fact that you were assertive.It shows that you have a clear distinction of what’s right and what’s wrong.At the risk of you looking miffed,you were
relentless.

Now that emotions have been dusted off, you can’t wait to see the progress.

Endure this.Cherish tried and tested friends.Continue to be decisive.Be better on your craft. Don’t be complacent. Be vigilant especially on the next steps that will take effect.

I know sometimes you get weary and you start asking questions like “Do I deserve what’s happening?” Stop the urge to ask this and find inspiration on the truckload of lessons you learned.

Most of all FORGIVE.Bear in mind that grateful people achieve closure by making sense of negative events so that they mesh with a generally positive outlook.

Two months from now,it will be your birthday.
If you had done these must-do’s, then you’re more than ready to be 24.

tinderbox

Did you know that the Philippines was the third country to help South Korea during the war in the 1950's?As an English teacher to Koreans,I try to take time off time discovering things that bind these two countries.Now that North Korea is threatening the South again,this video clip will remind how it all happened.Doraemon,I know one day you will become a great soldier so try to learn a thing or two from this.

http://globalnation.inquirer.net/features/people/view/20090609-209547/The-Filipinos-in-the-forgotten-Korean-war

a quote to perk me up:-)

To laugh often and much; To win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; To earn the approbation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; To appreciate beauty; To find the best in others; To give of one's self; To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch, or a redeemed social condition; To have played and laughed with enthusiasm and sung with exultation; To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived - This is to have succeeded.
Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803 - 1882)

envious

If going back to school again would mean having the chance to possibly fist bump with President Obama,I would gladly go through it again.SWEAR!I won't mind running pell mell to catch up dreaded math classes...arghhhhhhhhhhhh....for this this skin-to-skin,once in a lifetime encounter:-)

new:-)

So the flatscreens have been up and all that is left to do is to try IT.....Voila!Our silly selves got these pics as souvenirs:-)