have you seen her?

When I was reading book and glancing on top of my wall looking some space for mental reenactment from crumbs of lines I've read, I came into a sudden halt. Here's Charice's indispensable feature, dashing a cute smile at my direction. Her youthful, bright face which I admired for the longest time of my life. A cut out picture from magazine I pinned long ago.

This is the right angle from where I was sitting.

She's been part of my musical chest before she'd gained international popularity and everyone close to me knew my addiction to her --- check on my playlist, group discussion I joined on facebook, person I frequently stalked on twitter --- it's Charice. There were times I couldn't stop daydreaming, standing on real stage next to her and singing one of my favorites from her released album, Pyramid. (And am still hoping it will come to reality, but that's not the point I'm writing this to catch attention. You wronged me.) A sudden utter astonishment shrouded over my once broken soul; mimicking, crooning along with her angelic voice outpouring inside my ears. Old days brought me tears.

It would be a transparent phony on my part if I refused to say I wasn't badly affected when she turned into lesbian. Of course, I was hurt. I could not even recall how many times I played her public interview with Boy Abunda, trying to convince myself that I heard it wrong, that she muttered incoherently out of her own delirium, that she was under depression and I want to scream to the press to leave her alone and be back when she's sober. But she admitted and comitted to it. She's tomboy.

Numerous ubiquitous critiques slammed her on internet (well, it wasn't the first time really). And some articles had released their phony congratulatory address for confessing and being truthful to herself. She's living a happy life that she's been hiding for too long. A part of me was happy, part of me was wounded.  One thing silly about the whole thing was I stopped my passion for singing. For real. I remembered when I was in High School joining a local singing competition, auditioning in X Factor, because she's one of judges and even performing ballad songs (Charice's favorites) live on stage at feast, school, everywhere. It was funny days that I could not help but stifled a laugh for trying to recall it in details. I suddenly felt awkward when my friends from HS teased me.

But I totally change. I only sing in karaoke at special occasion with limited and familiar crowd.

There's nothing wrong of being what she is. And I wasn't berating because of her sex identity, not that at all. It was the new taste dispensed me from her that she has changed her voice into more masculine. Her changes makes me baffled, that, for me, there's a special bond has been cut and gradually faded when she came out in public, appeared opposite as what she'd been before. My intense desire on her own recordings, especially the new ones coming out in the market has been waned. I seldom listened to her current embraced music, and sometimes I rolled my eyes when she's telling the media how deeply in love she is ('cause, for me, it was one reasons why), sometimes I stopped praising her performance; turned off TV and leave her be. It was stupid reactions. I want to hit my head so hard for being selfishly sore asshole and inexplicably childish toward a human being who was hoping for acceptance and respect. Then, this tweet shocked the hell out of me.

I cried. I cried. Let out a long sigh for what I have done. I knew even before her confession that she was endlessly mocked by those trolls, co artists, phonies. And I was able to defend her case until such time I was out of energy to crush those bashers one by one. If there's anything I wish dearly hear from her that is forgiveness. It's true saying: Saka mo lang makikita ang tunay na kahalagahan ng isang tao kung wala na ito. (You can only see the true value of a person, when he/she is gone.) I am so sorry, Cha, for not wholeheartedly accepting what you are, for being so selfish, fake flatterer, for not protecting you once (in your new suit). Sure, what I plainly say here was just only a small thing from "ordinary person as me", but you really mean a lot to me. Your disappearance in public makes me fidgeted. I badly want to hear from you and I hope that you've fully recovered from previous painful months you are in.

I missed your sweet voice. Maybe I was too attached on your delicate, little self, but, Cha, please, believe me this time ... I love you. It was foolish of me not to stick around with you. I missed you so much. Please, be back soon. And tell us you're okay.

The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger (1945)

My Rating: 5/5

After reading Holden's account of 3 days he had spent round New york, I began to miss watching Old Saul (James Franco) whom appeared to be a lazy dealer of weeds in action-comedy movie, Pineapple Express. If anyone of you knew the movie and liked it as much as I did, what about play electrical songs of your choice as mark of our friendship. It went me utterly crazy watching the whole thing dubbed, though. Here are our local TV stations have made extra effort dubbed foreign movies in Tagalog like Filipinos watching picture are so dumb enough to make out English words. Yeah, maybe that's the point, still you remained immobile and absolutely enjoyed the plot outline and all. So you're going to stick on the couch, watching. Anyway, Saul is not completely asshole. It was funny story and gory at the same time.

The book was written in first person, of Holden's own perspective, but if you are searching for articulate prose to cradle, I apologise to say it's not the one for you. There were numbers of profanities and inappropriate behavior of a teenager smoking, trying to be sexy, attempted to drink hard stuff but badly ended up with soft and went stark insane just thinking for ducks going away during winter. Where did the flock of ducks go away in winter, by the way? Too bad I live in this tropical country and am neither biologist to figure out where did they go to comfort their feathery soul. Unlike human creativity, we can provide radiator or collect wood for fire to warm up bodies, but what about ducks exactly doing in place covered with frost?! Yeah, the way Holden think makes you wonder the same thing. Makes you nuts, I mean. One funny thing I remembered was when he curiously asking himself what nun, an English teacher he just met, would think if she was reading sexy books, Eustacia Vye perhaps of Thomas Hardy's classical creation. I guess, it is the authors logical thinking too to write down in blurb as warning sign if seductive stuff like that exists, right?

Holden Caulfield was not slightly different from Saul I have mentioned earlier or was not different from anybody else, even me. He was kicked out from school many times, immature, usually bellyaching when he came across with these folly, pretentious phonies, and mentally bashing morons for being such moron. He's kind of bored on things conventionally existed that I could reflect myself to him as my male version. He's horsing around or teasing somebody whenever he's on best mood doing it, but that's not what the cover up there is really implying to. It's not what you think he is horseplaying all the time, but rather a carousel doodle.

Holden, on the other hand, is catcher in the Rye that whenever kid is about to fall from edge of the cliff he's right there supporting or helping kid be back playing in the rye without any harm. This is what he fancied his niche about, he was a catcher or children's protector. I really appreciate him for that. Her sister Phoebe, for instance, if Phoebe was old enough and have read his brother Holden short composition it would definitely make her bawl. No one is perfect and I'm glad Holden has golden heart remained which would untie him from mistakes. I am sure he has getting back, hauling his ass off to school and fulfills his ideal dream as... maybe a school teacher or whatever jobs close to the kids.

Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman (1996)

My Rating: 5/5

Alright. It simply reminds me back or sort of déjà vu feeling from Stranger Things show I had recently watched, where a despicable Demigorgon dwelt in murky, wet and unpleasant Upside Down setting. A kind of story that could somehow relate to Neverwhere, because of its quick flip from place to another place, from lightness to blackness. But the only thing differ is that there's a large community has took fancy in living underneath London. That sounds gross, I know. London Below is accommodated by a thousands of ragged, bizarre beings ---- burglars, vagabonds, nomads, hapless ---- whose entire stinky image cannot be seen by ordinary eyes living in London Above. They're those low profile conventionally ignored by fastidious elites, extending one hand on the street begging for anything that could satisfy their needs. Gaiman is definitely a genuis hero in constructing a slots for them to be recognised as one group striving on same path, nevertheless clamored to live peacefully beneath the earth.

Richard Oliver Mayhew has pure heart and soul lived a normal life in London Above, managed a good job, and had beautiful fiancee until it all vanished in an instant after helping a young girl bleeding on the road whose name was Door. You will offer a hand too if you were in Richard's position, no doubt, but something... something uncontrollable volition that urges Richard to do such thing. What if he's the one? (a thought that might be playing, unexpectedly.) Afterwards Richard's life turned downright bemused, he was literally become invisible, ignored by people he used to work with. No one could see him except those who reside downside, and, so he was determined of finding Door, who's right to be blamed all his misfortune, hoping his life back to normal again.

Richard fumbled all the way to unfathomable chamber of madness uncertain what fate awaits him under. Is death could be sole answer from all his misery inflicted or is there any miracle that could save him as payback from all good things he's shown that angels above knew it all? The chap Richard reminds me completely from the guy who gave this book to me as a Christmas gift way back a year and a half ago. Weirdest --- I mean also the best--- thing though is that his name too appeared to be almost just like Neil himself, Nielbert. The latter and protagonist are both good-natured, trustworthy and a good friends. Richard few peculiarities are afraid of heights and claustrophobic. Two qualities to reconsider to withhold him from dangerous undertaking, but he did remarkable and unforgettable history anyway.

The story was lavishly twisted, mysterious and surprisingly hilarious to the bone. I laughed from clumsiness of our hero and amazed at the same time from what he turned out into. Door was also playing an important role that somehow taught readers to be brave enough to stand firm. She lost her family and I know exactly how it feels to be an orphan, but she endured the pain and become dauntless Lady of Temple And The Arch. Hunter too makes you believe that nothing is impossible. The plotline was completely ravishing, bright ideas oozed its way; ceaseless fights thud one's heart while reading it, the villains too were ridiculously eloquent. I freaking loved it. I missed everything from Above down Below. It somehow drag me to other grotesque dimension and cast about. I begged for more, because the ending will make the one left wonder. What happened to Anaesthesia? Is she really really dead? What about something magical on her beads? Tell me moreee.

She glanced at the little fires across the room. Then she looked back at Richard. She smiled again. "Do you like cat?" she said."Yes," said Richard. "I quite like cats."Anaesthesia looked relieved. "Thigh?" she asked."Or breast?"

One important thing I've learned from it was the hunger for something worthwhile, not repetitive, not convetional you ought to be doing every day. Somewhat an explorations that could help widen the horizon. Maybe this is reason why I loved reading a lot. I may be scarced from any resources needed, but books is one portal away from dome of nothingness. Books add color to a dull life. And I'm glad I've encountered Gaiman's rare stories on my reading challenge. Searching for more, yay!

American Gods by Neil Gaiman (2001)

My Rating: 5/5

Yours truly hepped up on crucial details from the book for the second time partly because I don't remember except for one thing, a vivid sexual scene of genie and Arab, and, partly because Starz channel has its own version airs every Sunday (American time). For me, it's wonderful to watch virtual thunder tremendously battered up the sky; winter coming up next let the myths be finally unleashed, while the ground has been preparing for unforgettable battle of all time, not just relying on the book. The TV series was superb and bit different from original which is good, so fans murmured theories how it should be.

It's an account of war between gods of old and new. Gods of Internet, Media, plastic, TV, radio, credit cards, technology in general are advantage indeed if we were to talk of the present, yet an old phrase reassured one's precarious faith that the older god has become the harder it subdued from its lair. So this happens in blessed land of America where state capitalism proliferates induced new gods to linger much and, for the record, during ancient times immigrants from all over the world conjured old deities out of fear and bring them to AMERICA.

Inexorable Mr. Wednesday, All-Father/Odin/Fucked Up/Grifter/Green-minded/Wrinkled man, has initiated the recruitment process and offered job toward big, ex-con guy named Shadow Moon. All together they travelled across America. Not Bethlehem, not Mecca, but America to befriend old gods rested upon each obsolete hole, obsequiously convinced them to fight on their side or, at least, win the f---king game they're about to play. Clue: it's a rigged game.

Gaiman magnified tales of long forgotten gods summoned by its tribes whom suffered or sold for slavery; fully entertained from various folklores which I've never been heard before, few interludes were added to catch its thrills. It was jam-packed with messed up, desperate, glorifying gods known from different races: Indian, Egyptian, German, African--- all were perfectly suited for its role wherein society carrying human body similar as Jesus Himself became a man spread news about truth of three persons of Trinity.

By the way, lemme escort you on quotation which I absolutely liked since I mentioned Jesus above. For clarity, it's just a parcel quote that could amuse you or whatever...

"There was only one guy in the whole Bible Jesus ever personally promised a place with him in Paradise. Not Peter, not Paul, not any of those guys. He was a convicted thief, being executed. So don't knock guys on death row."

See, what I meant. It's pure gold. It might explode Duterte's head if somebody from Human Rights were about to whipped these lines straight through him.

The book is judiciously good, mysterious and mythical that awakens own consciousness from lethargic abyss of real world. I loved it. I trust Shadow's own convictions for doing things right, awed at his deft manipulation of coins on his hands and admired his genuine love to his ex-wife, Laura. His acquaintance with old gods made me easy to conceive those cultural beliefs from the past that makes strong bonds among people who were riding altogether in ignominious fate and put into madness from oppression. Cacophonic storms, famine, disease gradually eradicate humanity and it is inexplicable divinity brings us hopes and peace of mind. That's how religion exist. It simply reminds me of Ishmael's companion in his levithian quest, Queequeg, bringing me back to the memory of heathen man creates by eloquent orator Herman Melville, one of my favorites (OMG, I cried). Unique, powerful and genius that only Neil Gaiman can provide.

The characters were special, not retarted or whatever, but rather has great impact to one's life leaves remarkable scars in soul. And I HIGHLY recommend it with strong mead, esp who likes to plunge through fiction for huge distraction on whatever chaos is brought by real world.

The Fellowship of The Ring ( The Lord of The Rings, #1) by J.R.R. Tolkien (1954)

My Rating: 5/5

I've been a fan of anything related to Hobbit since I have finished reading its introductory passage falls on the same title as well. I deliberately kept all those eerie and wonderful and unforgettable experience I've had while I was fearlessly taking those fagged quests altogether with these extraordinary characters. The fictitious character of Hobbits are my favorite in the series which is why I constantly dreaming of becoming part of the Harfoots family, one of their breeds. This colony are pretty cool and loved digging earth, gardening, singing songs, reading books, making tunnels for shelter, and so do I. I challenge myself to build my own property when I graduated - a tunnel where only matters is tranquility in the surroundings. Seriously, they're the most fabulous creature wield by magnificent King of fantasy genre, J.R.R. Tolkien, and I don't want them get molested by belligerency of dark Lord curled himself in diabolical fortress.

It all started when Bilbo ventured through the most perilous undertaking with dwarve's seething vengeance to their usurper, under the surveillance of Gandalf's most trusted wisdom. Until such deceitful power of One Ring had caught the eyes of weary burglar as his own reward, but left Gollum looney on the other side of the cave, beclouded on Bilbo's cunning riddles. Bilbo had successfully brought it back to safe haven of the Shire without profound understanding whatever amount of adversity the Ring could have bestowed. The Ring had its dreary past quite contrary to its beauty glittered perfectly as if looking for its new proprietor or perhaps a victim to carry upon its burden which Gandalf had already foreseen dark things would trigger the whole land into overwhelming catastrophe if it wasn't completely destroyed.

"One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them
In the land of Mordor where the Shadows lie."

At any rate, conundrums are basically part of the process of learning here on top of the twisted world, but, of course, doing it all alone fighting for goods would be monotonous ride for the fact is, I believe, that No man is an island - I liked this anecdote and I customarily applied it in personal life. I liked the concept on how Tolkien pointed out that confidence towards others is one key to success. Even college is most grueling journey without peers to work with. Our dearest of friends are perfect ones to cling on in times of trouble.

Despite of wicked things Frodo, the Ring successor, and the other 8 fellows from different races have been through, it would definitely usher oneself in most incredible geographic area of Middle-earth. The outlandish part of Middle-earth will quiver one's knees because the ambiance seemed strange, especially when Shadow conspicuously grew darker and menacing, but someone dwells in the corner and willing to offer some helps whose amiable and peculiar personality are quite irresistible. I loved the elves in Rivendell and those who dwelt in Lothlorien. Elves are adroit artists, no doubt. The fellowship of the Ring had been aided of assorted things suited for their travel to Gondor, e.g. cloaks, boats, bows, belts and memorable gifts to treasure about and all of it were graciously veiled by the power of Galadriel with imminent care. Everything in it is truly bewitching yet everybody felt secure. I love Galadriel - her silver hair, her charming smile, her benign feature and her own ring glittered upon the silky finger.

"Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,
Nine for mortal Men doomed to die,
One for the Dark Lord doomed to die
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie."

J.R.R. Tolkien has unique & mystifying voice written in words that upon listening you'd be literally plunged into cavernous space of fantasy. So big, so surreal, so fascinating. There were often times I heard Gandalf & Aragorn mumbled plans of taking risk, Sam & Frodo's close knitted friendships, Merry & Pippin's gaily songs, Legolas & Gimli's disputed affairs from the past, & Boromir's horn tunelessly reverberated inside my head. Many to mentions why I personally recommended this book to all and I'll come back for remaining two books. For now, 5/5.