Hey people...thanks for all the comments of late! No matter how much I tell myself that blogging is for personal fulfillment, getting feedback from readers IS the satisfaction equivalent of a chilly Oreo McFlurry. Mmmmm...
And, no...A Poem For My Blog was never an indication that I would quit blogging (or "slogging", which is what all the cool people say) for the "real world". It was more an I-miss-you thing, plus a guilt trip down memory lane.
Was at 95 Percent last night to watch the next batch of graduates go through their presentations. And...ouch. I mean, like seriously...ouch. Let's just say the judges had their Tongues of Nastiness on steroids. So much so that by the end of the night, the best we could hope for was a comment that didn't make you shift uncomfortably, wondering if it was okay to say that. Not that I blame them actually, some of the work was even skimpier than, than...ah, you pick your analogy.
But that aside, the cool thing was getting to meet Rae again! First time since the March graduation, I think. Heh...there's simply something about that dude that makes me want to be the best advertising person who ever lived. His passion...it's like, contagious! And that's, like...cool!
"Then tell me," I said. "Where are U and Linnie?"
He chuckled softly. They are not around.
"What?"
We are the only ones here, fool.
I glared fiercely at Archiver. "You gave me your word."
He stared back blankly. "I-I was told that they were here."
Now, now, do not blame him, my dear Garrick. It was all my doing.
Arhiver looked down, somewhat ashamed.
"So what are you going to do with me now, huh?" I balled up my fists, ready to fight.
Heh. You do realise that I could smite you to dust without sweat.
"You never know. You could be underestimating me."
You speak with confidence. And indeed, your confidence is warranted. After all, it truly takes someone special to master the power of Delete, more so in the spontaneous heat of battle. You are no less a prodigy in the one true form of offence than I was.
I am? I thought in amazement.
I watched your battle with Phocadis, you know. And it reminds me of the first time I fought as well. Was it against you, Archiver?
"No, my Lord," Archiver replied grimly. "It was against U."
Hah! Now I remember. You were next after him. And I kicked both your teeth down your throats.
Archiver smiled meekly.
Sigh...Blogspot was so much more exciting then. Nothing ever happens around here these days.
He sighed again, much more delibarately.
Now, Garrick! If you will not join me, then I request one final favour from you. Take me to where - what is her name - Linnie is.
I shook my head. "No."
Come on, now. Do not be such a selfish prod. Just hand her to me, and you are free to oppose me all you want.
"No deal."
Then, His voice flared in rage, you are of no more use to me.
Archiver! Make sure he does not leave this place alive.
"Gladly." Archiver flashed a lopsided grin, and flexed his fingers.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Writer's Block: A Poem For My Blog
Dear friend, hello
How much do I miss you
Catching the falling stars
Watching passing cars
It seems like yesterday
Here we were by the flowers of May
The butterflies danced with the bees
As we lay talking 'neath our lilac tree
Of cendol stories and paper frogs
To secret rooms and evil blogs
The laughing girl and her mirror
Then we interviewed one another
Our friends always dropped by
Remember? The thrilling "hey"s and "hi"s
You had so much to say, we had so much to hear
Simple words that brought a smile, a tear
Borrowing time, chasing stupidity
The perfect couple riding the LRT
Callers seeking MSN advice round the clock
Even when you had writer's block
I never forgot the desperate ghosts
Do you see the girl with her friend so close?
Oh look, the Sunday of fools in love
And the waves crashing to His lap above
It feels like you've always been here
Every thought, every sight, you are near
But things change - yes they do - too quickly
We no longer dance barefoot by the sea
I'm grown up now, I think
A stolen wink is a wink
What else can I tell you?
Nothing is still new
Too many days have passed through our shore
But a thousand years would matter no more
I do miss you terribly, friend
But...is this all a pretend?
How much do I miss you
Catching the falling stars
Watching passing cars
It seems like yesterday
Here we were by the flowers of May
The butterflies danced with the bees
As we lay talking 'neath our lilac tree
Of cendol stories and paper frogs
To secret rooms and evil blogs
The laughing girl and her mirror
Then we interviewed one another
Our friends always dropped by
Remember? The thrilling "hey"s and "hi"s
You had so much to say, we had so much to hear
Simple words that brought a smile, a tear
Borrowing time, chasing stupidity
The perfect couple riding the LRT
Callers seeking MSN advice round the clock
Even when you had writer's block
I never forgot the desperate ghosts
Do you see the girl with her friend so close?
Oh look, the Sunday of fools in love
And the waves crashing to His lap above
It feels like you've always been here
Every thought, every sight, you are near
But things change - yes they do - too quickly
We no longer dance barefoot by the sea
I'm grown up now, I think
A stolen wink is a wink
What else can I tell you?
Nothing is still new
Too many days have passed through our shore
But a thousand years would matter no more
I do miss you terribly, friend
But...is this all a pretend?
Monday, June 12, 2006
Chapter 19: "Considered"
Garrick, you and I need to make blogging great once more. Strike down all pretenders and change our world, the way only blogging can. And it starts with the birth of the Masterblog. What do you think?
"What do I think? I think you're delusional."
Ah. Explain.
"No one ever said blogging was supposed to take over the world. It is, above all, a symbol of self-expression. And if you're going to change that by allowing only a selected few write, I'll be the first to stop you."
Self-expression? Bah, that you leave for diaries. Blogs are supposed to benefit the reader more than the writer. Why else would they have readers in the first place?
"If you think people read blogs for 'benefit', then you're wrong again. Blogs are simply the face of the writer, with the volume turned up. If you like what you read, you stay on. And if you don't, you move on. You think too much."
And what do you pitiful bloggers have to show for years of personal gratification? Nothing, nothing, NOTHING! The world is still as rotten as ever since Blogspot was born. And all because no one had the guts to take the power out of the hands of those trash writers and put them in ours. Call me a dreamer, but blogging does not have to be in the pit it is now. I can take us to the highest heights Blogspot - no, the world itself - has ever seen, beyond anything the past Hes could dare imagine!
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Archiver shifting uncomfortably.
"Then you're even more insane than I thought. Good luck, and goodbye." I got up to walk away.
But you see, Garrick, you are destined to play some part in this, an unseen force made me get back on my hurting knees. As the Chosen One, you either join my cause or go against it. I was thinking we make it easier this time and work as a team. No unnecessary bloodshed. You decide.
"Your tricks won't work against me."
Consider it war, then.
"Considered."
"What do I think? I think you're delusional."
Ah. Explain.
"No one ever said blogging was supposed to take over the world. It is, above all, a symbol of self-expression. And if you're going to change that by allowing only a selected few write, I'll be the first to stop you."
Self-expression? Bah, that you leave for diaries. Blogs are supposed to benefit the reader more than the writer. Why else would they have readers in the first place?
"If you think people read blogs for 'benefit', then you're wrong again. Blogs are simply the face of the writer, with the volume turned up. If you like what you read, you stay on. And if you don't, you move on. You think too much."
And what do you pitiful bloggers have to show for years of personal gratification? Nothing, nothing, NOTHING! The world is still as rotten as ever since Blogspot was born. And all because no one had the guts to take the power out of the hands of those trash writers and put them in ours. Call me a dreamer, but blogging does not have to be in the pit it is now. I can take us to the highest heights Blogspot - no, the world itself - has ever seen, beyond anything the past Hes could dare imagine!
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Archiver shifting uncomfortably.
"Then you're even more insane than I thought. Good luck, and goodbye." I got up to walk away.
But you see, Garrick, you are destined to play some part in this, an unseen force made me get back on my hurting knees. As the Chosen One, you either join my cause or go against it. I was thinking we make it easier this time and work as a team. No unnecessary bloodshed. You decide.
"Your tricks won't work against me."
Consider it war, then.
"Considered."
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Chapter 18: "Meeting"
The sun was rapidly vanishing as we walked down the streets of Climax City. Squares hovered by the sides of the streets, stacking atop one another to form bigger squares, before disintegrating back into tiny squares that reminded me of pixels.
Long red shadows draped over us. Archiver plodded slowly, methodically, an awestruck grin permanent on his face. "Amazing," A flutter of squares flew above our heads. "So many, many years and the stories remain as breathtaking."
We went up a gentle slope leading to a vast brick hall. At the far end sat a towering silhouette, partly concealed by the shadows.
Was it Him?
"Indeed it is," Archiver said in a hushed whisper. "Now, bow." He made me get to my knees.
The silhoutte got up. Garrick. I heard him speak in my head, the way a passing thought would.
Do you know why you are here?
I tried to look up, but an unseen force kept my head lowered.
"Where are my friends?"
They are not your purpose for being here. A means, but not the purpose.
"Show them to me. Now."
You play by my rules now. Your friends will have to wait. I need to speak to you now.
I tried to catch a glimpse of him, but it was getting too dark.
You are here because I allowed you to. From the moment you clicked on that site of blogspot.blogspot.com to this meeting here, all has been planned by me.
I saw in you the same zeal I have for righting all the wrongs in blogging. The same disdain at how something once highly regarded could have been so utterly bastardised time and time again.
"You mean those so-called mediocre blogs?"
Mediocre? More like degrading.
When blogging first began, the world stood still in wonderment. Here was something so personal and life-changing, and accessible to all. The common man on the street could share his thoughts and stories to the world.
Everyone said that blogs would someday rule the world. They would shape the civilisation of the 21st century and slowly phase out all other methods of communication.
But just as the common man made blogging so unique, so too did he destroy it. We watched in horror as blogs became synonymous with mainstream stupidity and irrelevancy. The insightful reads gave way to giggly schoolgirls and ranting lunatics no one understood. And the more such disgraceful writers populated the web, the good writers either stopped blogging or shied away.
Before we knew it, blogging's moment in the sun had passed. It had been nothing more than a fad, a boy band, a way you wore your cap.
Long red shadows draped over us. Archiver plodded slowly, methodically, an awestruck grin permanent on his face. "Amazing," A flutter of squares flew above our heads. "So many, many years and the stories remain as breathtaking."
We went up a gentle slope leading to a vast brick hall. At the far end sat a towering silhouette, partly concealed by the shadows.
Was it Him?
"Indeed it is," Archiver said in a hushed whisper. "Now, bow." He made me get to my knees.
The silhoutte got up. Garrick. I heard him speak in my head, the way a passing thought would.
Do you know why you are here?
I tried to look up, but an unseen force kept my head lowered.
"Where are my friends?"
They are not your purpose for being here. A means, but not the purpose.
"Show them to me. Now."
You play by my rules now. Your friends will have to wait. I need to speak to you now.
I tried to catch a glimpse of him, but it was getting too dark.
You are here because I allowed you to. From the moment you clicked on that site of blogspot.blogspot.com to this meeting here, all has been planned by me.
I saw in you the same zeal I have for righting all the wrongs in blogging. The same disdain at how something once highly regarded could have been so utterly bastardised time and time again.
"You mean those so-called mediocre blogs?"
Mediocre? More like degrading.
When blogging first began, the world stood still in wonderment. Here was something so personal and life-changing, and accessible to all. The common man on the street could share his thoughts and stories to the world.
Everyone said that blogs would someday rule the world. They would shape the civilisation of the 21st century and slowly phase out all other methods of communication.
But just as the common man made blogging so unique, so too did he destroy it. We watched in horror as blogs became synonymous with mainstream stupidity and irrelevancy. The insightful reads gave way to giggly schoolgirls and ranting lunatics no one understood. And the more such disgraceful writers populated the web, the good writers either stopped blogging or shied away.
Before we knew it, blogging's moment in the sun had passed. It had been nothing more than a fad, a boy band, a way you wore your cap.
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