The Shadow Roars!

I just like this picture that I took with one of our cats here at home. Just wanted to share it. Her name is Shadow. I christened her with that name because she is all dark-colored similar to a Hyena's. Then when she arrived in our yard, she would be wary of people around her, hiding in every crevice, nook and cranny just to evade any moving bodies. Sort of like a Ninja. An unknown warrior with unknown purpose and name. Nobody knows how old she is or where she came from. Just lurking around Shadows. harhar. She now resides in our yard and has already warmed up and learned to trust us. She loves cuddling with people.

Life in stereo

I miss listening to stereos. Those bulky boxes that adorn livingrooms and bedrooms. The ones that you see in movies and television shows where they crank up the volume and party the night away while having profound epiphanies which end in disasters. I have one in my room. A stereo/amplifier kind of sorts. But it is all busted up now. No thanks to the house help's clandestine usage of it. Funny enough, we don't even bother having it fixed. Not a care in the world. We just watch it gather dust like a child seeing snow for the first time.

I blame humanity's new found reliance to the wonders of technology. Today, we could always count on our computers and MP3 players (the gorgeous but ghastly IPod) to satisfy any musical cravings that we may have churning our insides. It's like feeding your beloved rabid dog with class A caviar. Even if it is more expensive. We could always buy stereos now anywhere. On the streets of the metro and stalls in Tiangges and flea markets. We could even buy it in groceries in a very cheap price. The same price as buying a bunch of CD's in one go. But we don't buy them. Instead, we rally to the nearest fancy electronics store and complain about the overpriced device but hook up with it anyway, learning the power of credit along with it.

Stereos still has, and will always have this old charm. Listening to it during an afternoon spell or even while it lulls you to sleep at night. Letting the music escape through the circular speakers and fill the room a certain kind of vibe. Letting the music dance around the room as if to celebrate its liberation from an oppressive box. As you get entranced with the dance and let you slip away and dream dreams that you haven't seen before.

I guess music is an experience. Lately we only hear or listen to music, even dance with the beat. But we don't really experience it. I have been told that tracks in a CD is arranged in a certain way because it has to be listened that way. The arrangement maximizes what the musician wants. It was i suppose meant to take us away to someplace else and see visions. Whatever that means. Though i agree. It is nice to listen to CD's from the first to last track. sometimes I come back panting. But now, with a million assorted songs at our disposal, we get shorter attention spans and get bored and move on to the next song we seem to like listening next. We get fragmented and disconnected. We do not have value to anything and anything is subject to disposal at the end of brief lives. Like nothing matters anymore and everything are just mere objects.

And then I am just rambling. I do not know where this is headed. Although, what i know is that if you like the IPod just because it maximizes your cow licks or it really goes well with your bag and you feel you really look happening with headphones placed in your ear eventhough music is not playing, you might as well have just skipped this post and went on with your life. hehehe.

Vigor have crept up the ceiling. Some are hiding high above, behind the curtain the others lurking behind closets, crouching with hands covering their heads eluding a feral beast. Energy has decided to relive second chilhoods and played hide-and-seek. The dampness of the august rain hovers above roofs like a cloud from where it came from and settled down on every imaginable crevice. Leaving thin strips of ribbon on the gutter. Slithering away to look for a nest. Effervescent. Gray. Dirty.

I die from non-activity. Swirling, spiraling into a forced stupor.

hey listen...

I have been going over stuff I have posted in a blog in my networking site account. I was just surprised to have encountered a post that I made years ago. Ho-hum... To be young and so emo, words coming from Ingrid, who is a friend of mine. Yes, youth can be sweet yet, tumultuous at times. An oxymoron. An irony. A sarcasm. Confusing times as it may seem but, youth is delightfully chaotic.

Here is the post as written:

hey Listen!

i have come to think that i am getting nowhere with my creative writing. i hone myself and create endlessly and yet, nothing. even with my visual arts.

sometimes i wonder why i keep on writing with no readers, no addresee's, no critics. it seems all just a waste of my time and energy.

i also wonder why i keep on wasting money with rolls of film and processing expenses. i wonder why i bother to compose images in my minds eye without anyone receiving my messages that are conveyed. not even just appreciation of aesthetic elements of my products.

i'm an arrow that soars endlessly, seeking a target that is not there to begin with. or is it that this aspiration will not be satisfied? am i just like a child that reaches for the brilliance of the dancing stars?

is it just out of my league? not meant to be?

i need to do some evaluation. i need to find something. eventhough i don't know yet what that something is. i will still try to find it. whatever it is. i hope luck is on my side.

oh, yes.... what was I thinking??? Still, years later I find myself still pushing through it all. An arrow still looking for its target. Aspiring without the hope of satisfaction. An adult now yet still has this child within reaching for the dancing stars above. Only faith I guess guides me through. That's all I have for now. Geez... I'm not getting any younger, I'm at my wit's end. Save me!