Ramblings on internetechnosociety and other bedtime stories. I have the need to constantly problematize things. In fact, you will notice that majority of posts on this blog discuss the faults I see in whatever happens to catch my fancy at the moment. Am I being negative? Hardly. I like to see myself as an optimist. For example, I might be tempted to praise the Wika 2007 contest. In problematizing the concept by exploring whether it really does promote nationalism, and to.

A Glance of Hope? Fire from the sky. Friday, March 24, 2006. Is a hopeless romantic who, though inexperienced in love, loves to write about it. she especially likes writing about bittersweet situations since she believes that the bitterness makes the sweetness richer and unique. her demeanor though shows no sign of. Her fondness for such things since she is often seen laughing and smiling. Look out the window of your car. And watch me walk myself home. Watch me from afar, from where you are.

Monday, March 13, 2006. On February 23, 2006, a wonderful woman passed. She was a loving wife, a doting mother, and an exceptional doctor. Because of this, people cry. The first stanza speaks of the man who loved this woman this man was her husband, her lover, her best friend. The first line is repeated to show just how much he cries because of the deep love they shared. Theirs was a love worthy to be called romance. He cries, he cries. He cries for the woman he loved.

Wednesday, March 15, 2006. Auee hails from San Fernando City, La Union. She envisions herself of becoming like Angelina Jolie not as a Hollywood actress but as UNHCR Ambassador of Goodwill. Idyllic, yes, but possible. Yes, wipe them up. So tears will fall no more.

Friends, family, music, academics, girls. A blog that time forgot. Monday, February 19, 2007. And once again, I revisit this blog and memories come rushing back to me. Oh well, it would be nice to use start using this blog again. Wednesday, November 29, 2006.

In January they finally ditched their training wheels at the first attempt, and are riding like pros.

Rubbing my face with air condition chilled hands,. Checking the time with one eye shut. And twisting the button of my alarm clock. With the fingers of my invisible hand,. Looking for a way I can steer the night back. It seems I have the hate to wake up disease. Again, an outbreak of that plague. Celebrated by the cracked lips. And dry breath of a thousand dreamless dreams.