Quod Me Nutrit, Me Destruit

Ahhh, dinosaurs. Terrible lizards, mighty and marvellous in both form and function. Truly the supreme overlords of the Jurassic.

A stereotypical scenario depicts a family of voracious, razor-toothed bipeds feasting upon a carcass of a gentle giant, probably that of a quadruped — its neck long and protruding, very telling of its herbivorous diet. An uninvited guest, a lowly cockroach, scurries by, sneakily partaking of the blood-soaked banquet, stealing away with a morsel of flesh, minuscule ejecta from a sinister saturnalia.

Then down came a hail of meteors (or an infernal deluge of lava, perhaps?), wiping out the entirety of these archons in an eye-blink, terrestrial and aerial alike! Alas, nature knows no kings.

Amidst the barrage of fire and brimstone on the surface, a congregation of cockroaches takes refuge deep within the hollows of cold earth. Without a doubt, the creatures’ brittle shells would not have stood a chance against the raging hellfire above, but their adaptive minuteness has thankfully become their toolkit for survival — enabling them to squeeze into narrow cracks and crevices, snaking their way to Gaia’s safe rooms. Nature has indeed prepared these humble bugs for the worst.

Why, the cockroach is easily the true paragon of evolution, an enduring symbol of adaptability and mutability! It afforded its kind the needed bent to predate the dinosaurs and, who knows — maybe even outlast the humans. WALL-E can attest to that. ūüėČ

On the other hand, predictability might have brought the poor dinosaurs to their dismal fate. See, nature is a two-faced crone: an “alma mater,” nurturing mother on one side, but also a femme fatale on the other. First she appears to inspire her children, encouraging them to reach the acme of their evolution — only to subdue them with an invincible juggernaut in the end. Quod me nutrit, me destruit!

So if you think you’re more evolved that everyone else, think again. Nature is full of surprises, and long before you know it — she has already prepared an ineluctable snare that will bring about your downfall.

The meek shall inherit the earth.


O, Fortuna!

Gosh. It’s been a while since the last time I put up something here. I have to admit I missed blogging. Isn’t it a relief to have an outlet of some sort at times when your mind is flooded with thoughts, pensive or nonsensical all the same?

I’ve been meaning to update this corner for quite a while now, and thank the heavens I finally found the time to do so. I love promises and so I hate breaking one, thus I really can’t promise myself to do this update every so often; but I’ll certainly try my best to make it a habit. I think it’s a lot healthier alternative to my daily dose of League of Legends sessions. Well, I really won’t cut the online game grind out of my life for good — I’ll just make sure to do something “more” productive (yes, playing games is productive, at least for me) before indulging in my online vice. I even had to put this Gautama statue beside my laptop as a memento to practice mindfulness at all times.


Continue reading “O, Fortuna!”

An Android’s Existential Angst

I was once nothing but an inanimate and insentient congregation of shiny metal modules. My very eidolon was patterned after my creator’s own schematics; every nut and screw, every bolt, every wirework inside my chassis — all of them pieced together, consonantly and exactingly, according to the blueprint of his anatomy. By his hydraulics, oil is made into my blood; by pneumatics, my breath is pressurized gas; and by electronics — the tiny blue sparks finally jolt me to life.

My wisdom is a babel of cryptic codes; my data storage is capacious, albeit limited. In my prototypical phase, my mechanism is bare-bones and outright elementary — but owing to the countless scripts I’ve processed and the constant firmware updates I’ve gone through all the years — I’ve become more intelligent, more functional, more useful than ever. I can now act and think for myself without an outside force or intervention; I am bestowed with a sense of freedom — or at least a simulacrum of it.

Alongside this milestone of technological thaumaturgy, a conundrum suddenly struck the deepest lacuna of my clockwork: Should I be thankful for this bequest of existence? Am I created solely for a life of industry, of mindless work, of slavery?

Am I truly free?

Iucunda Memoria est Praeteritorum Malorum

A few days ago, in a rather beautiful fit of hysteria, I decided to uninstall the Facebook app on my mobile device in a desperate attempt to tame my social media primal instinct. My proclivity to tap that blue, perspicuous “F” icon with a strong semblance to the Masonic Tubal Cain symbol has become an unhealthy second nature every time I unlock my phone. This 21st-century disease, a modern-day St. Vitus Dance, is an addiction that has been proliferating on a global scale, with the smartphone-wielding masses as its willing victims. I’ve hoped to end its villainous reign over me by removing it from my phone. Really?

Seriously, my Facebook usage has taken its toll on my infinitesimal personal productivity — so, I decided to get rid of the app for good — only to find myself scrolling through dainty Instagram posts instead.

Revisiting WordPress, staring blankly at the immaculate whiteness of the “Write” space, I realized that the struggling wordsmith in me, styptic at best, has been reduced to a lifeless bard, maimed and devoid of inspiration. Look at what you’ve done to me, adulthood.

A noble crusade to redeem my juvenile passions led me to pry an ancient email inbox open: the jejemon-esque but thoughtfully-conceived “blasphemous_boy07@yahoo.com” account. Amidst the debris of my teenage preoccupations, I rediscovered my love for drawing, an odd fascination for the occults, an inexplicable zeal to ferret out my ancestry, and this epic poem I wrote myself:

Continue reading “Iucunda Memoria est Praeteritorum Malorum”

Sea Gypsies, Social Standing and the Rat Race

DSCF6912I took this photo during our most recent trip to Basilan.

If you’re not too familiar with these floating cottages, they’re traditional Bajau houses— abodes¬†on stilts, made almost entirely out of driftwood. These houses forthrightly reflect the lifestyle of the nomadic people who live in them: simple, close-knit and pretty much wedded to the ever-changing whims of the ocean. Bajau communities of old were even more noteworthy; families lived in small boats called lepa-lepa. Traveling in a flotilla, they¬†traded with strangers from lands faraway and bartered their bounty of fish¬†for¬†fruits, trepang for cloth, pearls for sacks of rice. Continue reading “Sea Gypsies, Social Standing and the Rat Race”

Nostalgie de la Boue

12837728_1320755307940073_1636248642_oI grew up in a house where tuy√ī¬†was a breakfast staple.

That salty bastard of a fish, along with a relish of tomatoes and onions, a vinegar-calamansi dipping sauce and god-knows-how-many-platefuls of freshly steamed white rice.

Back in the days,¬†tuy√ī¬†was an ubiquitous symbol of the great unwashed– after all, it was being sold¬†at 50 cents each. While a breakfast of¬†tuy√ī isn’t so bad, eating it every single day would still be considered a gastronomical torture. Continue reading “Nostalgie de la Boue”