House of Memory

It was Heath Ledger, not exactly him but his strikingly-handsome Aussie accent, which made me watch 10 Things I Hate About You   last week. But even before that last-minute decision, there's already a few signs lurking here and there, somewhere lowkey, across my consciousness, that was telling me to go and watch it.  The first sign was probably when I was dead scrolling through Twitter. It was a weekend afternoon and I was set to slouch in and do something unproductive. This only means that I can switch from one application to another and just keep scrolling aimlessly until I could finally feel my eyes shedding tears on its corner. But that day I was not crying when I was stopped by this retweet of a follower of mine. There was no actually a comment above the post but just pictures of that scene in 10 things I Hate About You which have captions on it. But, no, it was not that caption particularly that has me convinced to at least be curious about it. It was the eyes of Heath Ledger

The War of Translation: Colonial Education, American English and Tagalog Slang in the Philippines b y Vicente Rafael A Once Written Report Let's say, I have two friends; However, the years that I have known them separately varies in span of years. For example, this Friend Number One, has been my friend for three years already; Whereupon, this Friend Number Two is my "childhood" friend. When we become friends to someone, in a way, we acquire the way they talk, their gestures, mannerism, even the way they look at things in perspective. So, basically, it is more natural to assume that between these two friends I have, I am much closer to Friend Number Two. From a stranger's perspective, they would possibly connect the fact that, since she is my childhood friend, I have a longer history of friendship with her compared to the former. T hat’s, most of the time, how it is: The longer you know the person, the bigger the chance for anyone to jump into conclusion that we are mu

He's on the stage and they can feel the magic.  His silhouette against the frisky tight arc of lights in the centre of his musical space dimmed by the smoky-colored of passionate breaths.  A cacophony of defeaning sounds break off: stereo living in their ears,  the impassioned gusto of instrumentals tolerating their temporary incapability, the jarring voices of people, the commotion of thoughts in their head  (They've consistently been forcing back into some semblance of order) But they have always been there-- (comfortably or maybe because they have already used with the feeling) In chaos, that's where, where the smell of sweats and collective urban gasps of depressed people are suspended in the air.  The melody of his voice echoes their experiences: the brokenness,  confinement,  and mental exhaustion.  And when he touches the air and looks somewhere in between the depth of the void and the ocean of people's burden-filled eyes,  they feel escaped.  He whispers his son

This blog is, for now, designed to make it feel like you are making your way into someone's home. The color accents are consciously decided to render that familiar image of coffee shops in your mind while that background picture is on the top, perhaps, the first thing your eyes would land on when you visit the blog. It is borrowed somewhere on Pinterest which I put in the stead of my cover photo since it looks decent enough to accentuate the mood of my home. It is, I think, a study room in a blurry bulb-lit space where books are scattered but still looks easy on the eye. I chose this image to just set the impression of my visitors that the owner of this home could be at least a thinking person.  As you take your turn on the left, you'll see how many people have visited my home. (But mind you, most of the numbers there was all me and my hundred form of myself) It is situated above the queue of pictures attached on the wall. As of writing this, there are already four faces there

Whenever I get the feeling of watching something again, there's always a tinge of uncertainty that comes along the same moment. Like last month, I felt like I had been a bum for wandering up aimlessly on Netflix for almost some time. I was literally doing nothing but scrolling here and there on the platform and always ended up lost in the long run of searching. I was not exactly planning to consume another Korean drama series since I already did it with One Spring Night   which I never intended but just so happened that it was followed not long after then by Once in a Summer . I actually considered the thought of exploring some other Asian films especially a Taiwanese film, however, I could not find any among the bunch that could match my mood well at that time of drought.  Basically, I was like on a trial-and-error phase for days. This could also mean that for days I was sleeping my worries away for hardly settling on something to watch. I was not sure if I was just extra picky at