Everybody Sleeps

… But I haven’t done that in the last few weeks or so.

I am now on Day 15 of my visit here in Bacolod, and things are rapidly revealing themselves in a very timely fashion. Despite all the chaos, everything else has come to place at the perfect moment. And as much as I want to write in here about life after 15 days, I still feel like I need to wait. There is something that is about to be said, and now is not the right time.

Or maybe I’m just sleepy and lazy from all of the endless nights out, days out and reunions.

I have no clue.

All I know is that tomorrow is the day! I will finally go see The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug with someone special.

Life is never black and white, I’m sure.

To He Who Has Taken Me (And The Rest Of The World) For Granted Immensely

Caution: This is another “throwback rant”.
October 21st, 2012

I’ve given a lot of thought about you over the break. I’ve thought of the old times, of your heartaches, of the moments, of us, of each of your enigmatic actions and of how much I loved (past tense) you. I’ve thought about a million things about you. But at the end of the day, all I’ve really thought about is how much I HATE YOU. Yep. I’m done. And this might be just a spur-of-the-moment, but I know there is a reason why I am feeling this sudden hatred towards you. It’s like, just who do you think you are?! Honestly, I see now that you’re nothing but a pile of bullshit. I was gonna regret investing so much in you and believing so much in you, but I figured it’s great that I learned this the hard way. You, bastard, just taught me the greatest lesson in life that I learned so far. And it has something to do with dealing with stuck-up narcissistic self-destructive morons like yourself! I may have let my guard down and fed your ego without me even noticing it, but here’s me breaking the news for ya: YOU’RE NOT THAT GREAT. You are, *drum roll, just another piece of crap. You are cold, you are boring, you are vapid and you are easily the clearest definition of asshole. You walk around thinking you’re so different and so mysterious and so dangerous, and you’re expecting the rest of us to can’t help but say that you are such a COMPLEX individual, but guess what honey, you’re the simplest man I know. You are not at all complicated like people think you are. You are simply fucked up. And really, there’s nothing complicated about that. You cross my mind and I can’t help but break, or scratch, or smash, or burn, or kill whatever it is in close proximity. And when I see you, I control myself because I don’t wanna go to jail just yet. I still have foods to eat, and movies to watch, and books to read, and friends (real ones) to hang out with, and love to feel, and sex to have, and swings to swing on, and Christmas presents to unwrap, and jokes to laugh at, and water to drink, and songs to listen to, and party poppers to pop. But you. You can just hump your way on down to death because that’s what you’ve been all this time: DEAD. I don’t even know why anyone would ever put up with you and your grimy little cunt of a self! You deserve nothing. Absolutely NOTHING from anyone who’s actually real and genuine and ALIVE. You are the swarthiest dirt of the earth that I know, and I hope that you suffer way more than any human being alive today.

And I know that you can’t even read this coz you are one of those hippies who claim that they NEVER facebook, or text or whatever. Well nobody cares if you don’t do what most people do. That doesn’t make you any less of the scumbag you already are. Because the next time you aggravate me and get on my nerves with all your shallow, totally lame and endlessly irritating jokes and homophobic slurs, I sure am gonna verbally assault you with all that I’ve written here, and then I will rip your head off… And if I don’t succeed with that, I am gonna shave your eyebrows off in the middle of the night. You deserve to be miserable.

(I’ve killed you about 17 times in my head by now)

Undress Me

My Symphony: Hello, I’m In Delaware by Dallas Green


“When I had nothing to lose, I had everything. When I stopped being who I am, I found myself.”
― Paulo CoelhoEleven Minutes

Nine months ago, I donated 106 clothing items to the less fortunate (my first clothing donation during my stay here in Canada). After two years of breathing Vancouver’s air, I finally decided it was time I made some space for new things to come.

I’ve always had so many clothes. As a child, each birthday celebration, each Christmas Eve, each New Year’s Eve and each graduation and awards ceremony meant a new set of t-shirts, pants, briefs, tank tops, socks, shoes and what not. Even on those days when someone who loved me just felt like giving me a little something, it would almost always be something I could put on. So I guess, growing up, I’ve gotten so used to having other people give me the things I wear and I consequently haven’t really been doing the shopping for myself as much. I may own many clothes, but I’ve never been a shopper let alone a fashionista. Everytime someone asks where I buy my stuff, I often do not know the answer and it’s simply because my situation in relation to the question is always N/A (not applicable).

Quantity had also been a very deceiving part of my childhood. I don’t know why, but I’ve always been such a keeper in the most literal sense of the word. I guess the reason why I was so fond of keeping every little thing everyone gave me was because I, apart from being excessively sentimental, was somehow tricked by numbers. I always thought more was more. Everytime I looked into my “memory boxes”, my “high school scrapbooks” and my “gifts locker”, the sight of how much I had never failed to satisfy my emotional hunger for confirmation and validation. I always got a strange elation whenever I saw a dog tag given by an ex-lover or an apology letter written by a friend hiding somewhere in my desk clutter. All those wrist bands, all those pocket pictures, those magic pens, those Science projects, perfume bottles and friendship handkerchiefs – all of it – are a proof that I do delight in my own life’s history. I admit that this is simply the way I am, and that I do not have to change how I treat the material things people give me. But only I know the real meaning behind the difficulty I feel towards letting go of these…these… things. Because to me they have always meant more than just that.

Today, I am once again donating my clothes. This time, the gesture is aimed at those who have been affected by the super typhoon that hit my home country, the Philippines, about a week ago. And right now, I am sitting here and going, “Wait a minute… I didn’t count my clothes today like I did nine months ago.”

Exactly. Why did I even count those 106 clothing items on the first place?

Simple, really. I have detachment issues. Just like most people do, particularly when it comes to the things they wear.

Let’s all be honest about this: donating our clothes, no matter how we genuinely want to give them to those who are in need, is something that leaves us aching in one way or another during the process. Unless you donate clothes that are evidently old and worn out or clothes that don’t fit you anymore, this is not an entirely easy gesture, and  it often speaks about the typical human mentality and its fondness of materialism.

It is everywhere in social media – my friends and family, and some of the other people whom I know to a certain degree, have all donated their clothes to the victims of the typhoon Haiyan. It’s all over Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and even YouTube – pictures (and videos) of clothes folded together inside boxes and plastic bags, all captioned with something along the lines of “Donating my clothes to those hardly hit by typhoon Haiyan. Let’s all help in any way that we can”.

Initially, my reaction to this would be something like “Uggh is it really necessary for you to take a picture when you donate something?” or “Wow, that’s very genuine of you. *sarcasm implied*”. But this is just my surface-level personality talking. Because when I really think about it and really consider all the other things, I see that the taking of pictures and the posting of tweets and statuses and videos about donating isn’t a question of how genuine people are in their donations, but a question of how attached they are to the things they’ve donated.

Clothes are a very personal commodity to us humans in the modern world. Everyday, we hear things like “I really like that shirt of yours”, or “You always look good in that blue dress”, or “OMG can I borrow that leather jacket you wore at our high school after-prom party?” What we wear, over a given amount of time, become a big part of who we are. Sometimes, it’s how people recognize us. Other times, it’s how they perceive us to be. There are even circumstances where our clothes speak of our personality or mood at a given moment. I mean, right? These are things we literally live inside of. Not everyone will admit this, but each of us has at least one clothing item which we hold very close to our heart. These things are very intimate to us because they are things that somehow contribute to our characteristics, distinctive qualities and, ultimately, our uniqueness. This is why I do not blame those people who take a picture (or pictures) of their clothing donations, or even those who count their donations. It is human nature. It doesn’t necessarily make a person less sincere; it’s often really just that un-communicated value for really significant things that you are about to say goodbye to. It’s not something that’s conscious to us. You can never see a clothing donation caption that says “Holy shit, I’m gonna miss my Ralph Lauren shirt so much, but I just have to do this because this is the right thing to do. And I am a grown-ass man, so I will not cry, but I still feel very attached. But yeah. It doesn’t really matter. All I’m saying is, I love you, Ralph Lauren shirt, but I’m letting you go.” Like, no. You just never see that. But in some ways, this kind of inner monologue will always be there, even when you don’t acknowledge it. How do I know? Because humans, in general, are materialistic beings.

I feel like I’m about to go into another topic here, but yeah. This much is true. It is something that cannot be denied. We have been conditioned to the rules and the ways of the modern world, and unfortunately for our souls, this also means that we have subconsciously grown very (very) attached to things. 

When I was looking inside my cabinet this afternoon, I did not bother sorting out my clothes anymore. I did not bother to think about which ones I’m comfortable giving away, which ones are old enough to give away, which ones are too new to give away and which ones are never gonna be given away. I didn’t have the heart to do that anymore. I honestly just pulled out everything until my entire wardrobe was almost empty. Some of these clothes, I haven’t even worn yet. With tags and all. And I like to think that I’m now completely confident to say that I am no longer a materialistic being, but that would mean I’m lying.

But I’m on my way. I am on my way to shedding off my materialistic ways, and this is the first step. It’s not gonna be an overnight process, oh hell no. But it’s do-able. And it’s definitely preferable, especially for someone like me who has been overly materialistic and sentimental for a good 18 years of his life.  This time is the right time for change.

When I think about all those people who are caught in the middle of disaster right now, not just in the Philippines but all over the world, I can’t help but realize that what matters in times when the very core of humanity is shaken isn’t how much money we have in the bank, or how many properties we own, or how many clothes we have in our closet. Because when natural catastrophe strikes, it strikes like a double bitch raised to the seventh power. This is why I love nature so much. Not only is it beautiful, it is also a constant reminder that we do not own this place. And this epiphany has to come with the great recognition that we humans have been too obsessed with things. And that has to change. We should grow attached to people, to relationships, to nature, to ideas, to adventures, to life, to love, and not just things. 

I rest my case (for now).

Early Morning


Tonight has been a reminder of what I have, what I don’t, what I used to do and who I used to be. People who really know me tend to tell me that I think way too old for my age. And that’s probably because looking back, I can see how I dashed my way through adolescence and into adulthood. To put it simply, I guess what I’m trying to say is that, I began taking life seriously at a very young age. It’s weird because I always tell people “Life’s too short. You gotta enjoy it, not endure it” or “Tomorrow might not even come, so just party hard” or “You only live once. Get as high as Mt. Everest!”. But really, all of this is quite hypocritical. Because despite of all the “carpe diem” notion I’ve been trying to inject in my mentality, at the end of every day, I still find that something is missing; that there’s something in me that feels empty. This happens every night when I lie in my bed, thinking. And I realize: this will never go away. This consciousness that something is lacking. It will always be there. No matter how many vodka shots I take, or how many cigarettes I smoke, or how many other sorts of drug I put in my body, or even how hardworking I try to be as a son, a brother, a friend, a student, a lover, a person… there will always be that feeling that it wasn’t enough; that I missed out on something; that I could’ve done more. So what do we do with our lives then? If we take things seriously, the world doesn’t seem like it cares. But then if we don’t, it seems like it does. We wanna live everyday to its fullest coz we always say tomorrow might not even come. But what if it does come? Jay Sean sings: “We gotta party like it’s the end of the world. We gotta party like it’s 2012.” Well I mean it’s already 2012. Now what? What if the world doesn’t end until the next millennium? We just never know. And that’s the hardest part of all– not knowing. It has always killed me a little more inside each time I do not know. Not knowing is tragic. Not knowing what’s gonna happen next, or where to go, who to talk to… not knowing why: not knowing why things are the way the are; why people always leave, why bestfriends become strangers, why feelings fade, why marriages get broken, why society is so superficial, or why pineapples are called “pineapples”. It’s so hard. I could go on and on wondering about a myriad of things in life which I find peculiar. But now, I am just happy that I have come to a conclusion once and for all:

Life is too short, or too long, for me to allow myself the luxury of living it so badly. (Paulo Coelho)

Verbal Diarrhea

That awkward moment when you only have two subjects in school for the current semester and you live a totally carefree life of slacking and not giving a heck about anything, so you invite a friend of yours for a chat over coffee before you leave the country for a Christmas vacation, and you realize twelve hours before you two meet up that you actually have final exams the whole evening, but you totally forgot about the exams at that particular time because your knowledge of having only two subjects made you too dreamy and busy about thinking of the holidays that you LITERALLY didn’t remember that you have finals to take and worry about, and you fricken have no idea what to do because you have to see that person at this particular time because that’s the last time you’re ever gonna see that person for the year 2011, and when you come back you two may not even meet that often anymore because of the busy and brutally hectic schedule ahead of you next semester, and you can’t even stay up too late with that person after your exams coz you still haven’t finished packing your things, and you suddenly realized that things are about to get even worse given the fact that you have a ruthless and fatal history of motion sickness, and you also realize that the flight you’re gonna be in tomorrow will take 22 hours to finish, so you try to comfort yourself by keeping in mind that MAYBE (just maybe) a 22-hour travel time is not gonna be that bad, like, it’s not gonna be that bad to be up in the air for 22 hours, which is almost a day in your lifetime, but then you are just honest enough and experienced enough to feel and know that you are about to have the longest, most excruciating flight of your life, and you just don’t know how to manage it, and you are totally freaking out that you are trying to express the strong emotions you have in Facebook hoping that it might lessen your anxiety about the farewell to a friend you’re probably gonna miss out on and the plane ride that might make you NOT wanna go back home anymore because you feel so sick of being in planes already, because you know for yourself that you are a land person, that you do not, ever in your life, enjoy being up in the air because you are a human (not a bird), but you just have to brace yourself at the end of the day because there’s nothing you can do about it.

Me no likey.

Gotta love the arrival, but gonna hate the travel. For sure.

I Pull the Trigger, Motherf*ckers!

Listen to this sh*t: WITHOUT ME by EMINEM
(while reading this awesome post)

| Written April and published May of 2010 |

I was supposed to write about how SAD and DEPRESSED I have been lately due to the twists and turns that have been taking place in my life this summer. (But after I’ve found out another crap some urine-drinking hag has been spreading, I just found myself saying “enough drama!”)

Well, we all love this sun-soaked season. With all those beach parties, poolside snacks and cocktails and non-stop partying, who doesn’t love summer?

But I have to say that summer 2010 hasn’t been fair to me.

I’ve reached the point of having too much crap already. I’ve reached the point of wanting to blow off some steam that I have chosen to keep inside my head for months (or even years, if I will let the many previous tragedies count). I even think I’ve reached the point of itching to trash talk after a long long long time.

Because in case you haven’t noticed, I tried my DAMN BEST to be a good boy the moment I stood on the grounds of senior year. But it’s true. They say being good has its price. And right now I can no longer afford it. So here I am, making things clear with everyone that I’ve had enough. That’s it! I’m done playing the “talked-about” or the “despised” or the “questioned”. I’m just through with all the people’s crap and dirt that I just want to take a jet plane and fly off to somewhere else– somewhere far from this already stinking city.

And I would also love to say that I regret meeting some of the people in high school. I regret laughing with them, talking to them and even just sitting right next to them like I never knew something was apparently wrong.

Because obviously I’m not really the Mr. Congeniality type of kid.

But what I don’t understand is that some of my haters? I actually treated them like my own brothers or sisters. And no matter how good I try to be around them, they just keep on hating me. Or maybe not really “hate”… let’s just say “detest” me.

Some of my friends asked me once “Kenn, why are you writing about haters? Do you have one? I don’t see any.”

Well great! Haha. Well I remember Therese asking me this last February. The point is, NO ONE ELSE (aside from me) KNOWS THE HARD THINGS I”VE BEEN THROUGH.

And if one day I will be crazy, like literally crazy, I wouldn’t wonder anymore. After all those crash and burn, I am convinced it will be pretty hard for me to stay as the same person I was four years ago. That easily-tricked vulnerable, fragile, obsolete person.

So here I am… with my last goodbye kiss to all my beloved HATERS:)

\”WithoutMe by Eminem\”

Hater # 1: Little Ms. Rat (Ilaga, kung sa dialect ta pa)

I named you Ms. Rat because of one simple and very understandable reason: (well, aside from the fact that you look like one)… you are a stinking rat because you only come out of your hide-out when people are not around. You wait for the right timing to infest other people’s brains. When the person you want to destroy isn’t around, then that’s the right timing for you to finally spread your ugly dispositions. Do you want an interpretation? Okay. In short, your are nothing more than a decaying PLASTIC!!! A little advice: just keep on doing what you’re doing, rat. Because you’re getting so good at it. I even thought we were actually finally getting along with each other lately, but I guess not. Once a rat, always a rat. And even if you daydream a hundred daydreams of becoming a beautiful swan, you will forever look like a quacking duck, oblivious of the reality about what is and what will forever be. I just can’t believe how when I turn my back to you, you immediately flood the hallways with your juicy rumors. So just keep talking. I don’t really care about you anymore. You’re just making me famous, you ugly duckling!

Hater # 2: Bb. Bunganga

This girl works hard just to show people everything she knows about the goings-on around the campus. She may have a not-so-big-mouth, but you know what they say! “It’s not the size, it’s the prize”. Haha. Oh well. Hey miss, never think that I will ever forget you because frankly, you are one of those many people who made my image look like hell about three years ago. You were one of those people who stick around the corner to exchange petty trash talks about people you either CAN’T HAVE or CAN’T BE. But hush. I totally understand why you’re doing all of this let’s-hate-Kenn hype! I mean, after all you’ve been through with your own lame life, of course you would surely find solace in destroying other people’s lives. But whatever. You still put the “boo” in “taboo”.

Haters # 3: The Lion, the Witch and the WAR-drobe

Why do these three always come together? Simple. Because they have one thing in common: a boring lame life. That’s the only reason why they devote about 3/4 of their precious time in talking about how other people look awkward in their imperfections, not knowing how UGLY they themselves look with their own. I feel sad about these three, though. I mean, all their lives, they have been eyeing everyone around them that they haven’t been able to look at themselves in front of their f*cking mirrors. Ang saja pa gid is WAR freak gid ni ang isa ia. Oh well daah. What can we expect from this kind of people. They have nothing (absolutely NOTHING else to offer). Just them and their silly out-of-date pettiness.

Hater # 4: Ms. Technological Tantrums

Can’t you think of any other ways to express your hatred (or shall I say “jealousy”?) against someone you obviously despise than in facebook chat or through text messaging? Oh damn. What are the odds? Well, all I can say is “bravo, Kiddo!”. You are doing an undeniably magnificent job! But do you call it “effective use of technology”? Well I call it an ultimate resemblance of retardedness and superficiality. Oh, and one more thing I hate about you is that you act like you’re this pretty little girl who thinks she can convince everyone that she is as innocent as a 30-year old virgin, but the truth is we all know you are just as WASTED as a spoiled peanut butter sandwich in the trash can. :) ) So honey, never think that you’re all that, because all people can see everytime they look at you is the face of a fish, nothing less. In short, LANGSA ka na. Inog sugba, kumbaga. :p

Hater # 5: Odd-creature-turned-fashionista-wanna-be

Ai ahai na lang. This creature hated me since the day IT saw me. Haha. I mean, come on. No one can ever (ever) deny how IT tried ITS very very best to pull me down everytime I rise up. I don’t even understand why I did cling to this creature when in fact, I know ever since that IT is a mere good-for-nothing TH. As in Tanga kag Hangag! And now the worst part about this creature is that IT confidently thinks IT will make ITS way to the runway. Well, daaaah! Of course, you will never get even just the slimmest chance of even putting just a tenth of your right foot on the runway because the truth is, you look like a homeless lunatic. And you clearly have no taste in fashion. I’m not saying that I am a fashion guru or something. I mean, I don’t even care that much about fashion as much as this creature does. But that’s exactly my point! This creature thinks all-fashion but looks like pure HELL (in the making). Hey, beyotch! Now I can sum up everything I’ve been wanting to tell you in six letters: HA-HA-HA!

Haters # 6: Batman and Gremlin (soo not Robin)

If the lion, the witch and the war-drobe always go together, well so do Batman and Gremlin! :) ) What these two do is this:

First hour in the morning: BACK STAB!

Recess time: BACK STAB!

Free period (teacher not around): BACK STAB!

Lunch time: BACK STAB!

Bookkeeping class: BACK STAB!

Dismissal: BACK STAB!

Oh whatever. But do you know what these two will be doing ten years later? Here…

Ten years later: BACK STAB!

Haha. Pieces of lemmings! Sigh. I hope one day I will be faithful enough to pray for two such poor souls as yours, Batman and Gremlin.

Now you two definitely put the “ass” in Jackass.


OH MY GULAY. It’s been three days since I’ve finished writing this post. But I decided not to publish it, or let’s just say, not to publish it yet. I mean, all of this was originally not in my plan this summer. I actually should be writing about what is going on lately, and what are my reactions to things and people, but I don’t know why I ended up composing a MAD page. Aaaaaah. This is just so unlikely. But I guess SOMETIMES, GOOD KIDS PASS THROUGH ROUGH TIMES.


I am a good person. Okay, everyone is. But there are just times when all your positive energy is being sucked out of you by certain circumstances, and you act differently. You start to get irritated, anxious and depressed. And that’s what I’m going through right now.

So forgive me, my dear haters.

Anyway, this will be the last. Sometimes I just need to be a little bit bad in order to move on.

And we all know what they say: In every good, there is evil.

Goodbye, my loves. I am gonna miss you and your pettiness. But most of all, I’m gonna miss minding your crap because this day will be the last day that I am ever going to get you inside my head.

By the next minute, you’re all out of it.

P.S. I actually have more haters, but I decided not to include them in my goodbye kiss anymore. It is, I believe, enough for the world to know that anyone of us can bounce back to every demon around us.

… For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.


Ciao, loves.