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much love yo
Every one of us, consciously or unconsciously, affects the objects and people around us, including ourselves, on a continual basis. Think about the expression 'laughter is contagious.' Well, sure it is! How do you feel when you are around happy, laughing people? Usually, you cant help but feel good yourself right?. All emotions are energy and energy passes from one body to another; from one object to another; matter to matter. Laughter is contagious! You clear your house of negative energies and replace them with positive ones. Laugh once in a while. Promise. It'll help. :)

For my younger bro.. all the love!

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    layout: lyricaltragedy
    inspiration: reversescollide

    Monday, May 26, 2008
    getting a girl to ask you for prom.

    Posted 01/27/06. Again, part of my writing shenanigans from an old blog during junior high. T'was our prom year, and our school's official organ, The Lazzette, had an editorial article on "How to ask a Girl for a Prom Date." Yeah, it sucked major shitballs and it bored the hell out of me. Also, it ruins the reputation of lasallians as good female woo-ers :) kidding!

    The author of the article is a self-pronounced Mr. Playboy-that-can-entice-every-freaking-high-scool-girl-around but he himself bluffs around women. Sheeesh. I'm not surprised none from our batch took his advices and they might be as well dumped first-hand. Anyway, the article sparked a creative fuse and I thought, why not reverse it? I mean, why not make the GIRL ask us(boys) for prom?

    ---


    As lasallian gentlemen *cough* bullshit *cough*, we fear only three things: our mom's nagging, mr. medroso, and getting our girlfriend pregnant. This makes the high school prom a conglomeration of our primal fears, yet something of a rite of passage for young men. There are many things that can go wrong in the planning phases. In fact, way too many things. What if, by asking out one girl, you piss off another, more attractive girl? What if prom with this girl is no fun because no one else likes her? What if the suit you picked out doesn't match her stupid bitch ass dress?

    1. picking the right girl
    In order for this love-heist to work, you need to pick a girl who A.) hasn't gotten asked yet, and B.) who you can convince to really like you. Stay within neighboring cliques, but don't go for the teen-movie "She's All That" type of chick with glasses and a ponytail. She doesn't have the self-confidence, anyhow. You need a strong woman who will take initiative, and as I relearn after watching Erin Brokovich a dozen times, strong women with initiative are the best.

    2. walk the talk
    If a girl were to hint that you should ask her out, she would leisurely drop hints about how she does not have a prom date and how she just does not know what to do. You have to do this, but instead of coming off helpless, be a complete loser. What you say to her should be along the lines of "Yeah, I want to go to prom, but I'm just trying to narrow it down to one of your friends." or "I want to go to prom, but I don't want to settle for anyone else other than..." leave a blank and that'll do it for sure. Don't bite the bait and by showing confidence and standards, she knows you are a man of conviction, which they surely like.

    3. ownage/pwnage
    Now, if you really like this girl, you will no doubt want to destroy the chances of anyone else having a chance with her. Since she might have other suitors, make sure they know they are your bitch. Set their shit straight like Watergate through a combination of violence and intimidation, which I like to call "Viole-dation." Send warnings, break fingers, whatever you need to do to tell the suitors that this girl is the passive-aggressive world to you. And it's sweet for a girl right?

    4. finally..
    After all of her possible suitors get systematically taken out, she will begin to think that maybe everyone that would possibly ask her to prom is in the hospital. She is right. Tell her this, and then respond truthfully when she asks if you have a date yet. Observe how it all falls into place, and how much genius you must posses.While it may be sociopathic, you cannot argue with the results. She's happy because she has a date, and you're happy because you are now on your way to the rest of your life.

    Oh, don't forget to bring your Johnnies alright? Enjoy!

    ---

    Note: The video above is not our batch, I would just like to show how we, lasallians, prepare and cram everything from scratch to the big day for our prom night. Big shoutout to Denise Mangubat for being my date for the night.

    In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been a bit absent, my recent entries are composed of 're-posts' from my old blogs. I just finished my last final, which puts an end to long and stressful period of wacky craziness. However, it will still be a little bit before I dive back into blogging: I’m leaving for 12-hour hospitial clinicals for roughly a week or so. Anyway, hold tight and I should have some good stories to share when I get back. Summer term starts next week. Can't wait to go back to school! :)
    Thursday, May 22, 2008
    an old post from 2006

    [this was from my old blog (jesmaeruzione.blogspot.com) which roots way back junior year high school. this was about my lil' bro and I just knew I had to re-post this. Pretty hilarious (:]

    Tucking Lloyd in bed every night, is a ritual that includes a short conversation, a little bedtime banter and a kiss. I never know what kind of conversation I'm going to get caught up in, when it was his turn. This was last night's discussion (I'm not sure if I should share this, but as a older bro, I have to know if this kind of stuff is normal.)

    L: Good night, kuya. I Love you.

    Me: Good night, bro. How's Ms. Aloe? (His teacher whom he has a big crush)

    L: She's hot.

    Me: Uh........OKAY. What's that supposed to mean?

    L: She makes me all tingly when I see her.

    Me: Aight young man. That's normal.

    L: And I mean everything gets tingly (wink, wink.)

    Me: Um.....er...(fuck it. screw you jesma!)..okay. That's, er......normal. I guess. Uh....good night young fella. Love you lots.

    I kissed him on the cheek and ran out of the room as fast as my jello like legs would carry me before I collapsed on the hallway floor. The kid just turned six on Saturday. What is he doing with a tingly appendage? I thought that male appendages were not supposed to be tingly until much, much later? (Well, mine was...) Oh...my...GOD. I am having full cardiac arrest over this. Should I be worried? Should I be wondering if he's going to be like this all his life? Should I be stocking up on condoms? Are there such things as male chastity belts?? Holy fuckballs. I'm at a loss for words. Help me out here, because I don't know what to think.

    [HAHAHA.. male chastity belts? (: now that he'll be turning 8 in a couple of weeks, I wonder how he is now. I super duper miss him though.. ): Please. don't grow up! I'd want you to stay like that forever.]
    still a nursing student

    I survived my first semester of nursing school, despite the nasty weather. There were a few shady experiences with public transportation, but after a long while, I think I already got used to the everyday hustle and bustle of busy London. I’m a little concerned about some of the people in my classes, and wonder how they managed to get in. But, now I think I understand why only 200~ peeps were accepted in the program out of the 16,000 who applied. (A far cry from UP Manila's 97% rejection rate, wherein they only accept 35 freshies out of thousands of nursing hopefuls every year -- which I didn't made the cut.)

    Classes started with the basics and clinicals: proper hand washing techniques, We had to prove that we could do temperature, radial pulse, apical pulse, IV injections, inserting catheters, respirations and blood pressure. If that’s all there was to it, it would not be so bad, but there’s a very specific way we have to do things. plus, the 5-hour long theory lec's and labs that were all killers. Still, I can’t wait until we get started on the fun stuff!

    Every other day is hell day — I have to be there at 7:15a, and won’t finish until 6:30p.

    After three shifts of my hospital clinicals over the finals week, I finally had a rest day. After I picked my patient on Tuesday, I heard that he might be going home, but I didn’t have time to pick another one that day. Since I like to be prepared for the day, I made it a point to show up early on Wednesday just in case my patient had been discharged. Sure enough, he had been discharged. While flipping through the new admits, I saw that there was a lady in for suspected Crohn’s disease. My grandmother, who is also my mom's namesake, had Crohn’s disease, so I was very interested in learning more about this condition. I spoke with the patient, and she agreed to be my guinea pig for the day.

    While doing her physical assessment, it came up that she worked in a hospital.

    “That’s neat. What do you do, if you don’t mind me asking?”

    “I’m a registered nurse. I graduated from the same school you are now attending 15 years ago.”

    Oh no! She's also a marian! :) As I new student (and someone who struggles with self-confidence), this could be a very.bad.thing. I was worried she would be critical and expect me to be further along with my skills. But, I took a deep breath, and continued with my assessment. When it came time to palpate the abdomen, I was very hesitant because Crohn’s disease targets the digestive system. She asked, “Do you mind if I give you some advice?” It turns out I wasn’t pressing hard enough. She was really kind about teaching me and it helped a great deal!

    Since my patient was NPO (nothing by mouth) and we aren’t allowed to push IV meds yet, it looked like I wouldn’t be able to give any medications. However, as my shift was ending, the doctor ordered a one-time oral medication. After grabbing my instructor, we went to the patient’s room. I made the introductions, and my patient said, “He’s been really great today and such a good-looking lad. He’s going to make a great nurse.” In front of my instructor! Then my instructor said, “He’s one of my brightest students. He does a great job!”

    I’m not sure how I made it through the medication administration after that, because I was in a daze. It was awesome to hear the feedback, and really made me feel good about what I was doing.

    Floating on the high of that positive affirmation, I didn’t even cuss the horrible traffic on the way home.

    I really don't have regrets choosing this path as my career.





    Friday, May 16, 2008
    low batt

    I was rudely awakened by a "beeping" sound done by my cellular. pissed and completely awake, I knew that I had to make a post about it.

    I was sleeping, which is in no way the same as being asleep. It sounds the same? No, it’s not. Is f*cking the same as being f*cked? Don't think so. Sleeping is an active thing, a thing to be enjoyed and to be taken seriously, while being asleep is something anybody can do.

    whatever.

    Anyway, studying and cramming hours for an exam or for an oral, I’m a night owl and I usually go to bed really late. But once I do, I take my sleeping seriously. And I get really pissed off when someone or something wakes me up, that I sometimes end up executing all     nage-no-kata moves on somebody or something 2 pi diameter within me.

    So going on, my cellular committed a heinous act by alerting me of its low battery level. Shaken out of my pleasant dreams by the phone’s ear-splitting complaint, I sat up, very nearly knocking my head on a wooden plank (i sleep on a double decker, the reason which goes a very long way). i stumbled around the dark room, colliding with the furniture, trying to locate the damn thing so i could put it out of its damn misery. By the time i found it, under a pile of red-marked exam sheets on the desk, I was completely awake.

    This isnt the first time it has happened, nor will it be the last, Im sure. I usually turn it off at night. Really, I swear. But I'm human and sometimes I forget. And when I do, the battery will inevitably be low. There must be a version of         Murphy’s Law for cell phones. If you forget to turn off the phone at night, the low battery alarm will go off somewhere between 3 and 5 AM -- a God-forsaken hour in my life. It doesn’t matter if the battery has just been charged or not, trust me, the alarm will still go on.

    And the worst part, there is no way to turn the f*cking alarm off. Absolutely none.

    Its not like my phone is some cheap basic model. No, mine has all kinds of neat features. It plays music, takes pictures, can connect to internet, and even has a large collection of games. I can choose any ring tone I want. It tells me when peoples’ birthdays are and keeps track of my appointments. Hell, it even tells me what perfume that chick sitting beside me in anatomy class is using. kidding :) But can I turn the Low Battery Alarm off? NOOO. Can I lower the volume of said alarm? NOOO.

    So this very moment, alongside writing this post, being torn away from my very serious task of sleeping, I lay awake, cursing aloud the company who developed my cellular. Is an on/off function for the battery alarm really too much to ask for?

    If these guys can make a phone that can tell you the name of a song that’s being played on the radio, where the nearest restaurant is, and if the person sitting next to you is single and looking for love, why can’t they do something about the low battery alarm? Is there something about it that requires some amazing feat of programming? Or did it just slip their minds, what with all the other stuff they were trying to cram in?

    I think it’s something else entirely. It must be a sadistic streak intrinsic to phone designers everywhere. They must sit up late designing fabulous new phone models, and secretly taking pleasure in choosing the most annoying sound available for the low battery alarm, knowing that they are exercising some sort of insidious control over people. I can just imagine them geeks going "Bwahahaha! I have the power to annoy people off!"

    if that were the case, nice one motorola assh*les. you got me.

    Or even worse, it could be a marketing strategy? Maybe they want us to hate our phones so we’ll go out and get a new one. The only thing that is keeping me from throwing mine out the window is that it was a gift form a friend dearest. But, just you wait, mr motorola slvr, in a few more months you’ll be lying in the street wondering just what you did wrong.
    Thursday, May 15, 2008
    a eulogy for a dear friend's 3rd anniv..

    in the event of my demise
    when my heart can't beat no more
    i hope i'd die for principle
    or a belief that i have lived for
    i will die before my time
    'cause i feel the shadow's depth
    so much i wanted to accomplish
    before i reach my final breath
    i have come grips to the possibilities
    and wiped the last tear from my eyes
    i loved all who were positive
    in the event of my demise.

    when your hero falls from grace
    all fairy tales are uncovered
    myths exposed and pain magnified
    the greatest pain discovered
    you taught me to be strong
    but im confused to see you so weak
    you said never to give up
    and it hurts to see you welcome defeat
    when your hero falls so do the stars
    and so does the perception of tomorrow
    without my hero there is only
    me alone to deal with my sorrow
    your heart ceases to work
    and your soul is not happy at all
    what are you expected to do
    when your only hero falls
    signing out

    so before making my online anatomy research in school. i checked my yahoo mail account on a school computer. oddly enough, somebody forgot to sign-out, so i accidentally ended up in his mailbox. i ended up composing an anonymous letter to mr. forgetful-signer-outer (named changed to protect the guilty) and self-sending it to his own account:

    dear forgetful signer-outer,

    when you dont hit that magical “sign out” button, people are forced into your life just because they innocuously typed     http://mail.yahoo.com. suddenly, they thrust into a whole new world, one with years of interesting emails at their disposal. your big ol' subscription to seventeen mag which was 3 years ago, quite interesting ei?. Your conversation with julia about all the cool parties this weekend? also interesting. this world of yours also has contacts one can email porn to. so think about it: next time you dont sign out, it might be a creepy pervert who types in yahoo mail, not innocent ol’ me.

    have a nice day! :)
    mr. cool asian bloke

    p.s. i didnt read anything from your 'box......uhh...well, sort of.
    fun fact of the day :

    whenever im in a library or a bookstore or any sort of book-browsing establishment, I will need to take a shit. ill be looking on a shelf for a good read about horror flicks or something and, like an insistent three year old, my bowels will start talking to me:

    “hey hey hey… remember me? yeah, i’m holding your pants dude and its a ransom. meet me in the bathroom in less than two minutes and no one gets shat on. until then though, im just gonna keep reminding you. Hey Hey Hey Hey Hey Hey HEY HEY HEY (hey) Yo Yo Hey Hey Yo….(fart)”

    this is without fail. i will plan ahead and try to meet my bowels demands before i go out, but to no avail. the only explanation is that my inner ignoramus literally wants to shit on Shakespeare. Take a dump on his body (of work) in his last stronghold: the library. So I do.
    Thursday, May 8, 2008
    Marlon Robles

    Marlon: "...jesma, if ever ikaw yung batch valedictiorian, please do include a statement in your grad speech about the discrimination of gay students dito sa la salle... I know 'kaw lang may guts gumawa niyan, plus 'kaw lang may outmost respect sa cliques namin dito sa school"

    me: "word. respect bro, eeerr.. I mean bra, I'll even speak in gay lingo. don't root for me though"

    Marlon: "I believe in you."

    this was my last few conversations with Marlon. he my classmate in junior year, he was my backmate, my flash and filipino tutor, my mongol # 2 pencil provider, a friend who'll always back you up, a pioneer during batch parties, he was my dear friend.

    I never got to be the batch valedictorian and it felt like I betrayed a friend. BUT, eventhough I never got to make a statement about gender discrimination in school, Marlon, I promise. I'll be doing it for you and for all the maltreated homosexuals around because I believe that only God can judge us and He sees us color and genderblind, maybe not in a school but in the corporate world....someday.

    And yeah, I'll even speak in gay lingo.

    Rest in Peace Marlon Robles, you are loved. you're in my heart bra.

    "I believe in you."
    -- thanks for saying that

    all the love,
    jesma
    Wednesday, May 7, 2008
    homeless peeps > starbucks customers

    a physiology classmate invited me to study with her for our big test at the tenth.

    "...aryt, where do you want to? wanna crash at my place? it's 15 tops through andrew bell"

    "nada. too far bloke. i think it'll be better chillin' out at starbucks."

    "...WTH? who the fuck reviews at starbucks?"

    "hell jesma, errbody does."

    And so it goes. I'm not really a coffee person and I detest starbucks for their overpriced beverages, plus I really don't see the point of 'hanging out' at that place. Anyway, for lack of something better to do while waiting in line at 'bucks, I started looking around at the crowd. (It was either that or really thinking about the ridiculous amount of money I was about to fork up for a small cup of bean juice and milk worth about 2 pounds outside.)

    This particular Starbucks is in a university town, a 5 minute walk from my school, and I was amazed by the sheer quantity of grungy, unshowered guys and girls who had laptop computers open and stacks of papers spread out on the tables next to them. One guy was sleeping. Another chick was camped out on the couch by the fireplace and I swear to god she had slippers and a blanket. I am not kidding. I couldn't help but wonder whose job it was to tuck her in at night.

    It seems the unwritten Starbucks rule is that as long as you have a Starbucks cup somewhere in your general vicinity you are free to take up couch and table space and use their electrical power as long as you'd like to -- an offer which many people obviously prey them up on.

    It was at that point I realized something: The only difference between being homeless and being a Starbucks customer is a laptop and a paper cup.

    Here's an example: Say you're a rebellious kid, a band guitarist, who want to be independent from your parents. If that's not the definition of homeless I don't know what is. The first thing you should do is buy a laptop. Then hit the garbage can outside your local Starbucks and grab an empty cup. After that, you're on easy street. Walk in, sit down, open the laptop, put your feet up and bask in the coffee-scented goodness that is your new living room.

    Seriously, could this scheme be more perfect?

    Youre a musician, so obviously you work nights. Normally youre leaving for the club around nine or ten at night and coming home around six in the morning, so you leave before they close, and you're back when they open.

    Added bonus -- you can start a blog to tell all your fans how old-fashioned your parents are, and how they don't understand what rock and roll is all about and that you didnt know they were even coming to your gig and you were only autographing that chick's naked, tanned, perfect ass because you're a consummate professional and seriously, the reason your pants were down is simply because it was really hot in the dressing room and after a great show like that you always like to give it a little air, so kicking you out of their house was totally uncalled for and if you think about it, they should actually be apologizing to you, and also Mike Portnoy is the best fucking drummer ever.
    Friday, May 2, 2008
    seeing God's wonders

    So I was watching tele saturday night and there was this American christian dude (funny since the country is more like becoming a facsist nation.. see the point?) kind of a jibberish speaker but he was more of a motivational pastor. What really triggered my attention was he spoke about God's wonders, "I live in God's Paradise. Help me nurture it..." It never really left my mind and it really reminisced back a certain message of a very inspirational pastor from the Philippines [Fr. Orbos, He's tha man, yo!] that used to befall me:

    "There are more beautiful things about you than you think, you rarely give yourself enough credit. You should also wait quite a few more years before growing cynical. Permit yourself to regard the world with wonder now and again."

    It made me think a lot. At first, it made me a little angry - because, naturally, I skip over the wonderful compliment and get defensive. Maybe because on some level Im afraid of being cynical, and I hate that about me. Its so easy to let my hectic, stressful life take over and forget to enjoy things like playing video games (which I haven't really done for literally a decade), hanging out with friends, cooking dinners (which I've actually just realized that I havent done eversince I left the Philippines), and of course, being a geek that reads novels 24/7. Most people I know are in similar situations with school, work, and general life. Personally, I work 50+ hours a week going to university full time. That leaves about 0 hours in a week for anything else. Its not an excuse. Recognizing what makes you happy throughout the course of a day is not time consuming. Because there is always something there that will make you smile - whether its bumping into someone you havent seen in a while, taking 5 minutes to call someone you know will be glad to hear from you, or just appreciating that you get to come home to an apartment full of good friends, eat cake and watch a movie in your pajamas...

    Thank you, whoever you are, Mr. American pastor for reminding me that seeing God's wonder is not always a matter of making time but its a matter of paying attention.
    on the urge of giving up

    Sometimes my heart breaks because I feel like Im giving up so much with any decision I make. Like it did when I started crying in microbiology class this morning for no apparent reason. I did decide to leave the Philippines. Then Wednesday night reminded me of how much I totally miss my younger bro, and how much I love that the things are pretty well going here. I am questioning how willing I am to give it up. How do you decide between your dreams and your heart? I feel like they should go together. But my heart is in the Philippines and my dreams are here in England. Sometimes I think I do things just because I need to prove to myself and to other people that I can. Im sick of the distraction. Ive finally achieved some level of confidence, and I know that Im going to be alright in either place. [C'MON JESMA..YOUR LIL BRO IS ALREADY A BIG BOY!] I know what I'm good at. I know what I love. Im trying to figure out how to turn that into a decision. Ive realized that Ive just been begging God to give me an answer, when Im the one not paying attention. So my focus has shifted to listening. Ill let you know how that works out for me.