Saturday, August 4, 2012

I am Not a Filipino

I am Not a Filipino
Carl Jerome Velasco

The blood that encroaches across the intricate pathways of my mauve-tinged veins and vessels is that of a Filipino. The food and pabulum I devour and vouchsafe for consumption shares its patriotic identity with that of my blood. I exchange in communication with the medium spoon-fed by my race and culture that encompasses ethnic authenticity and separation. Filipinos are religious, and as I am a Filipino, I do share and practice my faith with a holy entity that shawls my incapacity as a sinful creation of the lord. I practice the culture introduced since the commence of my upbringing. I perform and embody the sacred identity of which my roots have bequeathed upon my inception.

My heart is a Filipino. My body is a Filipino. I look like a Filipino. I came from a Filipino family.

I relished a childhood that was contaminated with the grace, well-being, and holistic sacrament that my country and my god has provided me.

And yet, with all these... I still am not a Filipino.

I am not a Filipino because instead of inhaling my rich culture with alpine patriotism, I shudder at it. Instead of proffering my anatomical dexterity to become an instrument to lend a hand for those who need it, I fawningly weep for them. Instead of using my intellectual sovereignty to produce perspectives, viewpoints, and prospects which would be beneficial for our growth, I exploit it and sell my gift to the manipulative mediocrity that emanates from a negative external output.

I am not a Filipino because my blood is manufactured. 

I am not a Filipino because I do not withdraw my patriotism from a goldmine of history fought and died for by our plethora of heroes. I do not plant the seeds of fair retribution, tact, and incredulity into my wellness. I do not practice courageousness and bravery to which I owe my heredity for.

I do not delve through the broad subject matter that concerns my country. Instead, my interest dwells, and is peaked with mundane extremities that would not subsequent into my development. I am not a Filipino. I cluster my hands in shame and guilt. I am an irresponsible child of the lord. I am an arrogant offspring of my ethnicity. I am a ravenous and an ungrateful creation of the manufactured entourage that surrounds me. I have let myself be in the hands of a false race. 

I am not a Filipino because true Filipinos are rare. True Filipinos reach hand in hand to protect and be divided amongst the individuals that propel them up towards the threshold of a brighter future. I am not a Filipino.

You. You. And you. Take a quick look at yourself. Are you a Filipino? Or are you just a Filipino citizen?

Reason for writing: Well, originally I envisioned a speech that explained how great Filipinos are, the same she-bang all over, how we are so adept in every staple possible, how we exceed in every aspect there is to our artistic talent. But then I thought of myself, speaking in front of an audience, delivering the most untruthful roster of statements. And I remembered that I am an anarchist. The rebellious blood surged, kicked in, and was unstoppable. There is nothing more truthful than this that I have ever written in my entire life. Enjoy reading the painful foray into our culture's reality. My country is not bad. In fact, it's an amazing piece of work. The current people inside it are tearing it apart, though.

I leave you with that.

Saturday, April 28, 2012

DRIPPLER, the way to go for tech enthusiasts

A while back I stumbled upon Drippler trying to find a website to publish my application reviews on. Matan Talmi, the co-founder was kind enough to let me. And I started submitting reviews, and they helped me by publishing it on their website and proffering links to my blog and other review-centric blogs.

So this time, it's time to give a huge thanks back at them.

I haven't been very active nowadays online, but I have just discovered that Drippler has reached a milestone with their Android application, reaching 1,000,000 downloads. Finally, the website is being rewarded the fame and foray into the mainstream world of technology just as they deserved to.

for some of you without Cognizance of what Drippler is, read on. Basically, Drippler is a website where you can find and search for the latest news, updates, and a bunch of other stuff about your favorite gadgets, games, almost anything related to the mainstream technology. You don't to go to a plethora of websites, you don't need to rely on the cumbersome task of going back and forth, switching between different websites just to peruse for news and updates. Drippler aggregates it all so all you have to do is pick something you like and then enjoy! It's that efficient and easy.

So please, I encourage you to check their website out or try downloading one of their applications. Click the link below.

Friday, March 23, 2012

The Hunger Games Movie Review

The Hunger Games Movie Review
By Carl Jerome O. Velasco
Watched March 21, 2012, Advanced Premiere, SM Manila

The original literary spectacle that was “The Hunger Games” by author Suzanne Collins has ignited glints of enthusiasm from a diversity of demographics. It proves itself as a marvel. Because of this, the trilogy has reached its deserved far-flung fame and popularity. Numerous naysayers who haven’t yet taken a full-pledged gander at the books themselves are more skeptical towards the motion picture translation, saying that it is just another run-off-the-mill action movie with blood, guts, and a whole lot of violence. This statement is an ultimate erroneous epithet of the books simply because the story itself has a solid premise but with underlying tones of political tinges and a subtle (but beautifully executed) love story.

The Hunger Game’s premise in itself is already compelling. Thirteen districts circumscribe a single one called Capitol, whose corruption, abuse and mistreatment toward the multitude of districts has spurred an uprising from the last district. The uprising failed because the Capitol had an overwhelming arsenal under their stash and the uprising initiated by district thirteen was far too premature and was not premeditated with precision and intricacy. As a result, the thirteenth district became nothing at all. From a status of existence, it quickly turned into a moribund mishap. To further emphasize their power and hold over the other districts, President Snow had created an annual and compulsory fete called The Hunger Games. Each district will have two tributes, one male, and one female. Initially they will train and hone their skills before being thrown into the action. After every preparation is completed, the twenty-four tributes are surreptitiously brought into a special environment wherein they would fight to the death until only a single tribute survives.

In the midst of it all, we follow Katniss Everdeen, a girl from district twelve who is a self-proclaimed hunter who can really work her way on a bow and an arrow. With Gale, her best friend since childhood, they clandestinely sneak off the restricted area to hunt. Life in district twelve is a prominent hand-to-mouth existence. Every year, a “Reaping” is hosted in every district where they will select one man and woman to represent their district and battle and outwit their co-tributes in the hunger games. Primrose Everdeen, Katniss’s sister, is unfortunately selected from the myriad concoction of names. Ensued by the whole situation, Katniss vehemently bellows her preference to volunteer as a tribute in exchange for her sister Prim. A boy is selected, Peeta Mellark, whose ambiguity and enigmatic aura mystifies Katniss’s grasp. Finally, they are sent in the Capitol to commence their struggle to survival while they leave their families behind, with no definite assurance if they are ever going to make it back home. 

The Hunger Games is a phenomenal story of vulnerability. Its characters are well-executed and have developed quite promisingly. The story as it progresses never loses its momentum. The whole Hunger Games is a spectacular and lethal combination of suspense and thrill that maintains its build-up and releases an ardent catharsis. It is generally an experience of a lifetime. It’s not just plainly a movie of conventional nature. It successfully presents a plot and an eclectic array of characters which the audiences invest extreme amount of sympathy towards. It is a movie with gripping action and it never fails to execute every detail sans voice-overs. A movie, however, is not without its slight debacles. The only real complaint that can be made in The Hunger Games is its sometimes over-the-top camera work and its close-to-average visual effects. Cinematography is broken down into multiple point-of-views however oftentimes it can be misleading. Understandably though, the amount of blood and violence was toned down to keep a PG-13 rating. Nevertheless, it is a firm and breathtaking progression of what’s to come next. It puts the audience solely in the heat of the moment and invariably presents us with heart-stopping bits and an overall motion picture that goes as far as to somewhat mirror the authenticity of our own realm. As an added interest-pique, the movie’s ending is just the beginning. 

Thursday, February 2, 2012

Back Once Again

Sometimes I just want to lie down and let all the troubles be abducted by the sullen breeze that withstand every piece of me.

It has been a heck of a year. One moment it was November and then suddenly 2012's foray brings me to a vicissitude of events.

School is such an ass these days! I have been experiencing a burnout these past few days due to a plethora of schoolwork that never seem to dwindle or let alone come to a halt.

I am so pissed from earlier. I have been planning to watch J. Edgar a couple of days ago. To my ardor, I quickly go to the mall which is a stone's throw away from our University. Upon perusing for the "Now Showing" roster on the show floor, I see no sign of J. Edgar, and I swear I just saw it yesterday. My worst prospects came true. I was afraid that this wouldn't be a mainstream hit. As a result, they would get rid of it after a few weeks or so. I was extremely disappointed by this. Way to get my hopes up. To my unending enthusiasm and determination to catch the film, I walk a rigorous mile to another nearby mall. And again, to my dismay, J. Edgar was nowhere to be seen (I did catch a glimpse of the Dragon Tattoo now in theaters so that's a plus. Will catch that on Saturday if time permits).

Getting to my computer, I check the local show times for J. Edgar. And surprisingly, J. Edgar is no longer in theaters. Only a single word came into my grasp that moment: FUCK. One of the reasons why I hate Philippine Cinema. They pull out movies without any kind of notice or any omen.

Fuck them. And I was eager to see that wee smooch between DiCaprio and that dude no one cares about. what's his name again? Ah. Armie Hammer.

Fairly enough, the movie didn't get favorable reviews or plaudits from the Academy. So I guess no one really watched it. I guess Business is business.

So... back to schoolwork. It was crazy and hopeless at the same time. While we were getting a ton of workload, we also subsequently get a ton more after we finish the previous one. It's like a never ending labyrinth. We are so exhausted and fatigued. There's no time in recuperating even.

Anyway, at present time, all I have to do is revise a research and everything's good. I recently got into writing again and I'm glad that I'm working on it once more. I can't shake off the feeling that the less I write, the more vocabulary runs a metamorphosis into senility. But back in April, I asked permission from one of the many authors I look up to, Mr. Martin Wilson, If I could write a screenplay adaptation of his novel: "What they always tell us."

And he gave me the go-ahead. After nine months of procrastinating, I finally began working on it again. I started from the get-go. I want to start again. And besides, I've re-read what I have done so far in my previous draft and it is impoverished to say the fucking least.

I am also working on a novel and I also jotted down some ideas on a secret stash which i will try to develop later on. This particular novel that's a current bee in my bonnet is, as predictable as I am, a gay story. But that summary is hardly any of the plot. It is very deep and I plan to craft it with more passion, emotion and authenticity once I get bits of the story sorted out. Right now I'm just really trying to try writing again.

The story, if you must now, is tentatively entitled: Days of Our Fall. It centers on a special sanctuary in a surreptitious and tiny area in one of Iowa's large corn fields. In this particular place, Matthew and a guy-who-must-yet-be-named accidentally meet during Autumn and then they got together, talked and agreed to meet there everyday until Autumn lasts. in this place, they could talk about anything they want, be anything they wanted to be without even a second of remembering the worries, troubles and predicaments their lives bring. It's just where they could sit down, talk and share a connection without the troubles and anxiety of life.

I finished writing chapter one but i feel it's too brief so I plan to add verbosity to it a bit to just prolong some narrative and develop story lines along the way. I'm really hopeful for this project so I'll continue writing it over the course of the month or until I get into finishing it.

Anyway, I forgot to say Happy New Year! Wow. 2012. So much has happened. There's the uproar that SOPA ignited, some tragic mishaps in countries and a whole lot of stuff.

So yeah. This is how far my thinking cap has gotten me. I'll try to post as much as I can if possible.

Saturday, December 17, 2011


Wow. I can't believe my last post was made about a few weeks ago, November 13, to say specifically. Anyway, life has been you know, usual. Its chronic ups and downs, its constant inclination to suck, but I go through it quite well.

March 21 marks the premiere of the live-action movie adaptation of a book I love the most, The Hunger Games. I haven't read the remaining two in the THG trilogy, I've perused for multiple bookstores only to find out that they were sold out. Bummer.

Anyway, another thing would be is the fact that Christmas in in the offing but the Christmas spirit, so to speak, hasn't occurred to me...yet.

I don't know. I really miss previous Christmas celebrations we've had, especially as a child. Everything was hunky dory back then, even more so. We've had infinite food and a ton of gifts. We would line up behind our godfather and godmothers, patiently waiting for these so-called "aguinaldos" be it money, food, or anything favorable for a child's grasp.

Now it seems so dull. So lacking. So effortless.

Anyway, to keep this post from being an otherwise unhealthy rant, I stall.

I will keep you guys posted for the rest of the week. Meanwhile, enjoy the vacation! I'm going to stage a movie marathon within myself. A cornucopia of the cult classics and some Academy Award nominees is how far I've gone. I need to try other movies too.

Speaking of movies, I've watched 2010's Academy Award Nominee for Best Picture, The Kids Are All Right which starts Julianne Moore (Awesome, awesome woman. I fucking love this bitch) and Anette Bening (she was also on American Beauty. 1999 Best Picture Winner. Oddly enough, I had both these movies on the same stash of what's to be watched that day, right then and there. Weird.)

Anyway, a particular scene shows Anette singing to Joni Mitchell's Blue album, the song "All I Want"

I heard these song a few years back from a cover of Jay Brannan which I've enjoyed a great deal. I tried listening to Joni M's original and didn't find it quite pleasant. But I've re-listened to it and damn, what a fool am I. It was incredibly better the second time I've heard it and I feel ashamed for looking down on it in the first place.

So that's basically my life. I'm on a quest to search for the best movies and classic music that once reigned the audience's one un-streamlined preferences.



Sunday, November 13, 2011


So here is the farewell video which Ms. Hyper Singer from YouTube made. It's odd watching yourself talk. So anyway, I've already poured my heart out to Westlife in two very poignant posts, so to be emotionally further in this one is quite frivolous.
I'm listening to their songs as we speak. It's been 14 years. Gosh, I can't believe it. I agree with what she (a particular fan) said, that our lives have changed dramatically because of their music. Even much more, arguably.
So, Goodbye, Westlife. Good luck to parting ways. We will definitely miss you. Reunion soon 'kay?