Lucid Intervals

http://www.iosho.com/oBook/The%20Life%20Of%20Osho/07-60-jokes.htm

Osho�s Jokes

Osho has indicated that his discourses would become more illogical, irrational, more like poetry. Sometimes Osho’s words in discourses and darshans are published in verse form. At this time he tells many jokes.

Life is not economics, nor is it politics. It is a poetry, and the poetry is by its very nature, by its very definition, illogical. The poetry is beautiful because there are sudden leaps and jumps. The prose is not so beautiful, because there are no sudden jumps and leaps. The prose moves on plain ground, in a logical sequence.

Sooner or later, when you are ready, I am going to drop talking in a sequential way. Sooner or later, when my sannyasins are ready, my talks will be more like a collage. You will have to find out what he means. You will have to find out your own meaning. I will say a few things, but I will go on jumping and I will not connect as I connect right now. Once you are ready–more attentive, more aware, more alert–I will not connect with logic, I will drop the logic. The unity will be there, but not on the surface. The unity will be there because they will all be my statements–the unity will consist in me. And the unity will be there because they are to be understood by your awareness–the unity will come in your awareness. But taken directly, if a visitor comes, he will think this man is mad. Right now I connect. I connect because I know you will not be able to understand the absurd yet. I am waiting for the day you are ready, so I can be as absurd as life is.

Have you seen anywhere any symmetry in nature? It is not there. Man makes things in a symmetrical way. If he makes a house he makes it symmetrical. But in nature there is no symmetry. A great pine tree, and just by the side a small rosebush. And you cannot ask what is the connection between the rosebush and the pine tree. Existence will laugh; it will say, “Who said that there is any need for any connection? The rosebush is a rosebush and the pine is a pine–and both are happy. There is no need to bridge them.”

Sooner or later I am going to become just like life; I will say something and then I will forget about it and I will tell a joke which is completely unrelated. Then it is for you to work it out. Then it will be more beautiful, certainly more beautiful, because it will be more playful. That is the meaning of a collage, so many fragments from so many dimensions together. On the surface, no unity; but if you look deep there is an organic unity. That unity exists in the painter, not in the painting.

If you really want to know the meaning of the poetry, you will have to go deep into the heart of the poet. For prose you need not go into the heart. Prose is plain, prose is worldly, prose is of the marketplace, prose is human. Poetry is divine. That’s why all the great scriptures of the world are in poetry–the Upanishads, the Vedas, the Koran, Dhammapada. They are all poetry, beautiful poetry, outpourings of a singing heart. Logic, there is none; love, there is much. ecstas02

You ask: Why are You not serious? Why are You always joking?

God is not serious–what can I do? God is always joking. Look at your own life–it is a joke! Look at other people’s lives, and you will find jokes and jokes and jokes.

Seriousness is illness; seriousness has nothing spiritual about it. Spirituality is laughter, spirituality is joy, spirituality is fun. come07

Just the other day one person has written to me, “You must be the first enlightened one who is telling jokes.” Yes, that is true–at least I can claim that much originality! Otherwise it is very difficult to claim any originality in this world; there is nothing new under the sun. For millions and millions of years man has existed and thousands and thousands of enlightened people have existed; they have done almost everything that can be done. I was really searching what to do–something new! Then I stumbled upon jokes. I said, “This is right!” dh0408

You ask: Are you pushing my pleasure button? When I sit in lecture I am all smiles and it takes me hours to wipe it off my face.

You fool! Why do you try to wipe it off? I make so much effort to create it and you take hours to wipe it off! Never do it again–so that it becomes something permanent, something essential with you, something natural, something that surrounds you.

But I know people are afraid of smiling, because if you are caught red-handed by others smiling for no reason at all, they think you are crazy. So people repress their smiles. That’s why you must have been trying to wipe it off.

But when I push the button I really push the button, and now I am going to push harder! You will not be able to wipe it off even if you make effort for hours or for days! Enjoy it! And what does it matter if people think you are crazy? Why be worried about it? There is nothing wrong in being crazy. Here, at least, everything is crazy!

Just the other day somebody asked, “Osho, there are so many clocks in the ashram. Why do they all show different times?” Just crazy–cuckoo clocks! And if they all show the same time, then what would be the need for so many clocks? Then one would be enough! inzen05

What I am trying to show you is this: that we laugh only when there is some reason which is forcing us to laugh. A joke is told, and you laugh–because a joke creates a certain excitement in you. The whole mechanism of a joke is: the story goes in one direction, and suddenly it takes a turn; the turn is so sudden, so drastic, that you could not have imagined it. Excitement grows and you are waiting for the punchline. And then suddenly, whatsoever you were expecting is never there–something absolutely different, something very absurd and ridiculous, never fulfilling your expectation.

A joke is never logical. If a joke is logical it will lose all its sense of laughter, the quality of laughter, because then you will be able to predict. Then by the time the joke is being said, you will have reached the punchline because it will be a syllogism, it will be simple arithmetic. But then it will not have any laughter. A joke takes a sudden turn, so sudden that it was almost impossible for you to imagine it, to infer it. It takes a jump, a leap, a quantum leap–and that’s why it releases so much laughter. It is a subtle psychological way to tickle you.

I have to tell jokes because, I am afraid, you are all religious people. You tend to be serious. I have to tickle you so sometimes you forget your religiousness, you forget all your philosophies, theories, systems, and you fall down to earth. I have to bring you back to the earth again and again, otherwise you will tend to become serious, more and more serious. And seriousness is a canceric growth….

Now, even medical science says that laughter is one of the most deep-going medicines nature has provided man with. If you can laugh when you are ill you will get your health back sooner. If you cannot laugh, even if you are healthy, sooner or later you will lose your health and you will become ill.

Laughter brings some energy from your inner source to your surface. Energy starts flowing, follows laughter like a shadow. Have you watched it? When you really laugh, for those few moments you are in a deep meditative state. Thinking stops. It is impossible to laugh and think together. They are diametrically opposite: either you can laugh or you can think. If you really laugh, thinking stops. If you are still thinking, laughter will be just so-so, it will be just so-so, lagging behind. It will be a crippled laughter.

When you really laugh, suddenly mind disappears. And the whole Zen methodology is how to get into no-mind–laughter is one of the beautiful doors to get to it.

As far as I know, dancing and laughter are the best, natural, easily approachable doors. If you really dance, thinking stops. You go on and on, you whirl and whirl, and you become a whirlpool–all boundaries, all divisions are lost. You don’t even know where your body ends and where the existence begins. You melt into existence and the existence melts into you; there is an overlapping of boundaries. And if you are really dancing–not managing it but allowing it to manage you, allowing it to possess you–if you are possessed by dance, thinking stops.

The same happens with laughter. If you are possessed by laughter, thinking stops. And if you know a few moments of no-mind, those glimpses will promise you many more rewards that are going to come. You just have to become more and more of the sort, of the quality, of no-mind. More and more, thinking has to be dropped.

Laughter can be a beautiful introduction to a non-thinking state. thund09

And I have to tell jokes, because the things that I am saying are so subtle, so deep and profound, that if I simply go on telling you those things, you will fall asleep and you will not be able to listen or to understand. You will remain almost deaf.

The profounder the truth I have to tell you, the worst joke I choose for it. The highest the truth I am trying to relate, then the lowest I have to go in search for a joke. That’s why even dirty jokes…I don’t bother. Even a dirty joke can be helpful–more so because it can shock you to the very roots, to the very guts. And that’s the whole point! It helps you to come again and again to your alertness. When I see you are alert, I again go relating that which I would like to relate to you. When I see again you are slipping into your sleep, I have to bring in a joke again.

If you really listen with alertness, there will be no need–I can say the truth directly. But it is difficult. You start yawning…and it is better to laugh than to yawn. trans302

The insistence in the East is on god’s sweetness, his loving qualities, his feminine face. In the East god is depicted as a dancer, as a lover, a flute player, a singer. He is not a very ferocious father-figure, sitting on a golden throne, just waiting for you to be caught and punished and thrown into hell, for small, tiny reasons…in fact, silly reasons that don’t mean much.

What great sins can man do? Somebody drinks alcohol, somebody smokes cigarettes, somebody plays cards and somebody has fallen in love with somebody else’s wife–things like that. What do you call it in Italian? ‘Peccadillos’?…

Peccadillos? That’s right…just small sins. God must be very mean if he counts these things, really mean.

The Eastern concept is that god is love, sweet. Yes, god is your uncle. And god is not an earthquake but a flute player. From there you can start becoming more and more available to god. halle19

love is juice

we in the east have defined god

as god has been defined nowhere else

i have never come across a better definition

and i don’t think there exists any

the upanishads say raso vai saha–god is juice

this is a very strange definition

sometimes i wonder

i may have written that upanishad

maybe in a past life

otherwise who would do it?

i cannot find anybody else doing it clapp13

Osho recommends laughing at oneself rather than others; he often makes jokes about himself

If you can laugh at yourself, everything is okay. People laugh at others, but never laugh at themselves. It has to be learned. If you can laugh at yourself, seriousness is already gone. It cannot make its abode within you if you are capable of laughing at yourself.

In Zen monasteries every monk has to laugh. The first thing in the morning to do is to laugh, the very first thing. The moment the monk becomes aware that he is no longer asleep, he has to jump out of bed, stand in a posture like a buffoon, like a circus joker, and start laughing, laughing at himself. There cannot be any better beginning of the day.

Laughing at oneself kills the ego and you are more transparent, more light, when you move in the world. And if you have laughed at yourself, then others’ laughter toward you won’t disturb you. In fact they are simply cooperating, they are doing the same thing that you were doing. You will feel happy.

To laugh at others is egoistic; to laugh at oneself is very humble. Learn to laugh at yourself–about your seriousness and things like that….

Let the laughter be a belly laughter, not a head-thing. One can laugh from the head: then it is dead. From the head everything is dead; the head is absolutely mechanical. You can laugh from the head: then your head will create the laughter, but it will not go deep in the belly to the hara. It will not go to your toes, it will not go to your whole body. A real laugh is just like a small child laughs. Watch his belly shaking, his whole body throbbing with it–he wants to roll on the floor. It is a question of totality. He laughs so much that he starts crying; he laughs so deeply that the laughter becomes tears, tears come out of him. A laughter should be deep and total. This is the medicine that I prescribe for seriousness…. foll104

What is Your message in short?

Buddha’s message in short is: Be a light unto yourself. And mine? Be a joke unto yourself! wisdom28

What is your English–British or American?

It is certainly not British. To be British is not easy. One has to be born British at least seven times. It takes a very long time to be British. And it is not American either because I am not a tourist. You know I don’t even leave my room–what kind of American can I be?

And why should my English be British or American? My English is my English–Osho English! And this is a democratic country and the constitution declares freedom of speech as one of the fundamental rights. I speak my own language. Why should I speak American or English? In fact, English is too uptight, it is too tense, and American has become too lousy–just the opposite; it is a reaction….

So I simply speak whatsoever way comes to me, whatsoever way comes spontaneously to me. You will have to be a little patient with me inzen10

Why did You decide to speak instead of writing Your philosophy?

My spelling is far worse than my pronunciation! dh0910

Beloved Osho, Don’t You know how to count? One day after the fourth question You said, “Now the seventh question.”

It is really difficult for me. You should be happy that I don’t say after the seventh, “The first question.”…

It is really difficult for me to count. I cannot count on my fingers. To keep my fingers at the back will be very difficult, and I don’t have pockets! wisdom27

Why do you make so many mistakes when you quote other people or refer to Biblical events or to scientific discoveries? I have answered this question many times myself in various ways. Now I would like to hear your answer.

So allow me to commit a few more mistakes.

First: my memory is marvellous.

Mulla Nasruddin was talking to a man and he said ‘My wife has a very bad memory.’

And the man asked ‘Do you mean she forgets everything?’

Mulla Nasruddin said ‘No, she remembers everything!’

If Mulla Nasruddin’s wife has a bad memory, I have a marvellous memory. I forget everything. And I enjoy this forgetfulness; I am not worried about it.

Secondly: I am an ignorant person. I am not a scholar. I enjoy reading books, but I read the Bible, the Gita, the Koran just as one reads novels; they are ancient, beautiful stories. Krishnamurti says he never reads any scripture; he reads only detective stories. I read the scripture, but I read in the scripture just the detective story and nothing else. And I would suggest to Krishnamurti that it would be good if he should look into the Bible; you cannot find a more beautiful story full of suspense. Everything is there: love, life, murder; everything is there. It is very sensational.

Scriptures, to me, have nothing special. Scriptures are as sacred as the trees and the rocks and the stars–or as secular. I don’t make a distinction so I am not very serious about scriptures. The only thing I am serious about is jokes. So when I quote the scripture I quote from memory, when I quote a joke I have it written here in front of me. I never want to make any mistake about the joke–I am really serious. About everything else I am absolutely non-serious….

Scholars become too serious. I am not a scholar and I have no respect for scholars. In fact my attitude is exactly the same as Mulla Nasruddin’s.

Once it happened:

A man came to Mulla Nasruddin and said ‘Nasruddin. have you heard? The great scholar of the town has died and twenty rupees are needed to bury him.’

Mulla gave him a hundred rupee note and said ‘Take it, and while you are doing it, why not bury five?

‘Remember, these scholars are very calculating and cunning people–bury them as deep as possible, otherwise they will come back. And if you need more money, come to me, don’t be shy about it!’ I am neither a scholar nor am I in any way respectful towards scholars or scholarship. That is all bullshit.

I was reading a beautiful poem by E.Y. Harburg. A few lines are of tremendous import. Meditate over them.

Poems are made by fools like me,

But only God can make a tree;

And only God who makes the tree

Also makes the fools like me.

But only fools like me, you see,

Can make a God, who makes a tree.

I am tremendously ignorant, and I am happy as I am, and I have no idea to improve upon myself. So if sometimes you are in an awkward situation: somebody says that ‘Osho has said this and this is not correct’. It is your problem: then your Master is found faulty; you feel a little disturbed, your ego is hurt. As far as I am concerned I am perfectly okay. And I will continue to create problems for you! Now you find the answers: invent something, be a little imaginative or inventive. When I can invent so much, why can’t you? You can find some esoteric, occult meaning in it. It is always easy: when you cannot find anything else, always try to find some esoteric, occult meaning in it–there must be….

Don’t be bothered too much about facts there are none, all are fictions. Remember, all are fictions, even my being here and your being here is a tremendous fiction. Nothing ever happens. Truth is. All that happens is fictitious; history is a fiction because whatsoever is, is… nothing ever happens there. God has no history and God has no biography. God only is, there is no ‘was’ and there is no ‘will be’. There is no past and no future. tao110

You say: I have heard that you sometimes make up questions to fit your jokes. Is this so? Please be truthful!

It is very difficult for me to be truthful. I don’t believe in anything, not even in truth! I am not a serious person at all! I believe in playfulness. So…how does it matter whose question it is? And do you think when you write a question it is better than when I write a question? And do you think that when you are writing a question you are really writing or am I writing through you?

If I have to tell a joke tomorrow I can say something today and many questions will come tomorrow! There is really no need for me to write them–I can create questions in you; there is no difficulty. Otherwise, how do these many many questions come?

But you seem to be serious. And I am serious only about jokes! I am not serious about anything else. That’s why you never see me laughing at the jokes–I am really serious!–because jokes are not a laughing matter. It is not a laughing matter. It is not a joke! It is one of the most serious things in life, in fact, the only serious thing.

You ask me: I have heard that you sometimes make up…

Sometimes! Always, every day! because whenever I come across a good joke I cannot wait for tomorrow. Who knows? Tomorrow may come, may not come. I may not be here, you may not be here–and the joke has to be told!…

And you ask me: Is this so? Please be truthful!

Even this question is invented by me! What more truth is needed to prove it? You have not asked it, but I have answered it! guida10

You ask: I overheard someone say that you had problems–do you?

Not one but many–you are my problems, one hundred thousand problems! And as sannyasins will be coming more and more, the problems will go on growing. Each sannyasin brings many problems. And I am here: you can surrender your problems to me. I can take all of your problems because I have none of my own. And because I have none of my own, you can drop your problems into me and they disappear. They have no place to cling to. They simply disappear into the abyss that I have become. fish15

You ask: What did we do to deserve you as our guru, our master?

I don’t know anything about you, but I must have done terrible karma to deserve you! trans202

Are You a black magician or a white magician?

I am an orange one. dh0606

Can a madman become a Buddha?

Only a madman can become a Buddha! The so-called sane people at the most can become Buddhists but not Buddhas, they can become Christians but not Christs. Only a madman….

My invitation is for the mad people of the world. I am a madman’s guide to enlightenment! goose09

What is Your dogma?

Peter, I believe you must be a tourist here; otherwise you cannot ask such a question. I don’t have any dogma. In the first place I don’t like dogs at all! And ‘dogma’ means mother of dogs! Neither do I like any sonofabitch, nor do I like any mother of dogs! There are Christian dogmas and Hindu dogmas and Mohammedan dogmas, and what do they do? They go on barking at each other! I don’t have any dogma at all. Even my kids understand it here, my small sannyasins. You can ask them. dh1206

Do you partake of intoxicating beverages?

How can I answer this question?–because before I answer I must know if it is an enquiry or an invitation! parad108

Why are you called the Master of Masters?

It is a difficult question. I had to look in the Akashic records, and not in the past Akashic records–because it is not recorded there–but in the future Akashic records. This is a future story. Listen carefully.

It happened in Moksha, the ultimate resting place of the awakened ones. A journalist for the local newspaper, The Nirvana Timeless, was desperately seeking material to fill up the center page of the next edition which was due to appear in twenty-five hundred years. There was not much news around in Moksha, and soon he realized that he would have to make something up himself if the center page was not to be left empty again, as it had been for countless ages.

Finally, he hit on the idea of choosing which of the many Buddhas, Arhatas, Bodhisattvas, Christs, Kutubs and other enlightened beings abounding in the lotus paradise was the Master of Masters–in short, a spiritual Mr. Universe competition.

He summoned all the enlightened ones together and asked them to encapsulate in a short phrase the essence of their teaching, which would entitle them to the title of Master of Masters. There was, as usual, a deep silence which lasted a few hundred years. Finally a Zen Master stood forward and hit the journalist hard on the head. This was considered to be well deserved, but not very original.

Another hundred years passed and then a Sufi stood up and began to whirl. Unfortunately he was out of training, and after a couple of months he fell flat on his face, causing some merriment among the Hassidic Masters, who had been surreptitiously pouring oil on the floor to bring the uppity Arab down.

After some goading by Manjushree and Subhuti, Buddha slowly stood up and addressed the gathering in the following way: “There is no teaching and no one to be taught. There is no Master and nothing to master. Nothing can be said; there is no one to hear it.” Then he held up a flower and Mahakashyap giggled as usual. Many applauded the Buddha, but to the journalist it did not appear like the kind of news which would help him to sell his paper.

One after another the enlightened ones came forward to make their bids for the title. Moses gave a few new commandments. Bodhidharma stared at a wall for ninety years. Jesus made a mountain out of a molehill, and delivered a sermon from it. Diogenes displayed his suntan. Shiva and Parvati ran through one hundred twelve new positions they had invented. Gurdjieff drank twenty bottles of brandy, then walked on his hands on a tightrope over the plenum void, smiling with the left side of his face and grimacing with the right. Lao Tzu had a good belly laugh at all these antics. Mansoor would not stop shouting, “Ana’l Haq! Ana’l Haq!” and finally had to be put in a straitjacket and given a couple of valium. Vatsyayana gave himself a blow job to demonstrate existentially that sex and samadhi were manifestations of the same energy–and so on.

It proved impossible to choose which of the awakened ones was the Master of Masters, since even the journalist had attained to choiceless awareness long ago. But the day seemed saved when Teertha, a relative newcomer from England, stood up and declared with typical British diplomacy, “The greatest Master is the one who has yet to come.” Suddenly an Indian mahatma jumped to his feet and cried triumphantly, “Then that must be me–for I have been celibate for eighty-four million lives.”

By unanimous agreement the awakened ones decided that the mahatma’s samadhi was not yet “seedless”, and he was dispelled back to samsara to spill his seed once and for all.

Just as the mahatma disappeared from sight, Osho came out of his room, where he had been sitting all this time, and made his way towards a small marble podium in the corner of the hall. A deathly hush gripped the audience, and even Mansoor shut up. If a look of dread could be said to cloud those tranquil eyes, this is what happened to the gathering.

As Osho sat down and leaned towards the microphone, a cry arose from Mahavira, “Wait! Wait! We proclaim you Master of Masters! Now please go back to your room.”

Osho smiled innocently and left the hall. There was a sigh of relief.

The journalist turned to Mahavira in consternation: “I don’t understand. Why did he get the title? What did he do?”

“Nothing,” said Mahavira, “but last time he spoke here it took us seven hundred years to get him to stop, and send him to Poona!” ggate210

Ethnic Jokes

Osho teases sannyasins, and makes jokes about ethnic origins

You ask: Are there great differences between the different races of mankind?

Essentially there are no differences at all. Essentially there cannot be any differences. The whole of mankind is one species of being. But different races have evolved different qualities. They have lived in different climates, they have encountered different situations, they have passed through different histories; naturally they have learned to behave in different ways….

So there are great differences on the surface–and the surface is all that comes in contact with others. Intrinsically no two human beings are different; in their innermost core all human beings are just human beings.

So we have to understand both things. Essentially, all human beings are one, but accidentally they are not one. And it is not bad that they are not one. Variety is beautiful, it enriches the world, it makes the world more beautiful. It will be an ugly world where only Hindus live, where only Jews live, or where only Negroes live. It will lose all charm, it will lose all beauty.

It is such a beautiful mess…. Italians and Polacks and the Germans and the French, and they all have their own ways, their own understandings, and they have all developed different styles.

So although everybody, every human being belongs to one species, still we have been able to create a variety–different flowerings on the same bush. It makes the world really rich. I would not like to destroy these differences, I would like to enhance them–still with this understanding that human beings are human beings. Nobody is higher and nobody is lower; we should drop the idea of hierarchy, but variety is good. dh1208

I love Italians–as much as I love others–but naturally many people are feeling jealous of Italians, for the simple reason that I am telling so many jokes about Italians. But the reason is not that I love Italians more than the Dutch or the Australians; the reason is simply that my librarian happens to be Lalita, an Italian, so she goes on finding Italian jokes for me! So rather than you desiring to be an Italian, just desire that I may get one assistant for Lalita from every country. In the new commune, I am thinking Lalita must have at least a dozen assistants! But beware of having this desire….

Just the other day all the orange Italians and all the orange Polacks gathered together to decide who is really the greatest. Of course, there was no question of intellectual discussion…it had to be something existential! So they decided to go to the football ground by the side of the railway station and play football–whoever wins….

For two hours everything happened–except football. Karate chops were flying and yoga was done and boxing and wrestling and Dynamic Meditation and Kundalini Meditation. And they had forgotten completely that they needed a few referees as well; there were no referees at all.

After two hours even the football lying by the side started laughing! “What is happening?” Then a train passed by and hearing the whistle of the train the Italians thought the game was over, so they left the ground, thinking, “We are equal and the game is over.”

But the Polacks were bent upon winning, and now, because the sun was going down, the game became even more fierce. And finally after one hour’s effort the Polacks were able to score one goal–without the Italians, but that doesn’t matter! dh1206

Pope John Paul has stated recently that if a man looked lustfully even at the woman who is his wife he could likewise commit adultery in his heart. What do you say about it?

What can be said about it? A Polack is a Polack is a Polack! Pope or no pope, a Polack remains a Polack. Now this is the ultimate in stupidity, one cannot surpass it: even to look at your own wife with desire is adultery! Then why in the first place one should get married? Just to commit adultery?

In a way he has made a very difficult thing simple. One of Milan’s newspapers seems to be far more wiser. The newspaper writes: “Life is hard for the adulterer–an endless round of cover-ups, tricks, juggling of the daily calendar and the need to buy useless and expensive presents for two women at once. Now the Pope has removed all these vows, because you can have infidelity in your own house!” This seems to be far more intelligent. It is really beautiful and juicy to have adultery with your own wife. A great idea!

But these repressed people are bound to do such things.

I have come to know that for the whole year, the whole past year, in his every weekly sermon he has been talking about sex–for the whole year condemning, condemning…Now why he should be so much concerned about sex, for one year continuously condemning? There must be something inside him, some wound which has not healed. ithat16

You have sussed me out. Now is the time to tell my dreaded secret! I am one of Your Polacks. What to do?

Prem Veechi, that’s the most beautiful thing about Polacks I love and like. You are not the first Polack who has declared it. Asha wrote a note saying that, “Beloved Master, I am also a Polack.” Anupama wrote a note saying that her lover, Amitabh, is a Polack. And many others. This is beautiful!

And see what the British are doing. One British lady, Prem Lisa, has written saying, “We are superior so what can we do?”

Veechi, it is beautiful to be a Polack. It is beautiful to be a little foolish, not so superior as the British. dh1202

So many questions have come from British ladies and British gentlemen saying, “The British lady is just a myth and you should not be so interested in a myth. It is not a reality–the British lady exists nowhere.” But these same people believe that the Polack exists, the Italian exists, the Jew exists. They are not myths, because when I am joking about Jews or Italians or Polacks, no British lady or gentleman writes to me that these are myths–they are realities.

Now, no Jew, no Italian, no Polack is writing to me that the British lady is a myth. Why are only the British writing to me about it? Can’t you see the point? And if it is a myth–and I know it is a myth!–why not enjoy it? Why become so much worried about it? Somewhere deep down you believe it is not a myth, otherwise why? Have a good laugh and it is finished!

But your concern to make me aware of the fact that the British lady does not exist…I know it! I am surrounded by British ladies! I have more British ladies around me than I have Jews or Polacks or Italians. I know it is a myth–but a beautiful myth! dh1203

Nobody here wants to be forgotten. I am being reminded every day. The Australians are writing every day, “Have you forgotten us?” Norwegians, Swedish, Swiss, they are all writing letters, “Beloved Master, when is our turn coming?” dh1204

People are shocked at Osho’s Jokes

Is there any joke that even you would not dare to tell?

I have never come across any such joke yet. If you can find one, send it to me! To me all jokes are beautiful–the more outrageous they are the more beautiful–because my work here consists of shattering all your conceptions, your prejudices. So there is not a single joke that I have come across which I would not dare to tell. There is no question of daring–I simply enjoy! zzzzz09

You say: In the past few days you have told some jokes that shocked me.

But good–that at least one person is not asleep here. But you misinterpreted. It is natural because interpretations come from our own mind. He misinterpreted because he thought that they are crude and racist, because I joke so much about Jews.

I love Jews! I am myself an old Jew, so it is difficult for me to forget them. They are the most beautiful people on the earth, hence so many jokes exist about them. And jokes exist because Jews are so intelligent. You joke only about a certain community because you cannot compete with it. The joke is a compensation.

Jews are really intelligent, one of the most intelligent races in the world, and everybody feels incompetent with them–then you take revenge in your jokes. Jokes are very indicative. They don’t say anything about the object of the joke, they simply say who has created the joke; they say something about who has created the joke. Wherever Jews exist people joke about them–because there is no other way to take revenge; in actual life they are far superior. It happens always.

So your interpretation is your interpretation. You think that I am against Jews or something? I am a lover. But I can understand.

You say, ‘These are the stories I told when I was a boy. And when I told them it was with cruel intentions.’ So of course you must be projecting your own cruel intentions on me. The stories may be the same, but the storyteller is not the same. Remember that, don’t forget it.

Ordinarily Buddhas have never joked. It is for the first time a Buddha is joking. It is something very new, so you are a little puzzled. But to me everything is sacred. There is nothing profane. From sex to sahasrar, I accept everything. My acceptance is total. My acceptance is absolute.

So sometimes the joke can look crude, it can look obscene, but to me, nothing is obscene. Everything is just beautiful as it is. The obscene is an interpretation of the mind.

Drop your interpretation. The shock is very good, but interpretation has to be dropped otherwise you will misunderstand me, and you will miss an opportunity….

All my jokes are there purposefully to shock you, and those people who are very weak, weaklings, they have disappeared. They don’t come to listen to me, they cannot come. Now only people who are courageous and who are ready to absorb these shocks can come close to me. But that is done knowingly. trans106

Are You an anti-Semite?

Levin, me? An anti-Semite? You must be crazy! dh1004

I feel shocked when You use the word ‘fuck’. What to do?

It is one of the most beautiful words. The English language should be proud of it. I don’t think any other language has such a beautiful word.

One Tom from California has done some great research on it. I think he must be the famous Tom of Tom, Dick and Harry fame….

He says:

One of the most interesting words in the English language today is the word ‘fuck’. It is one magical word: just by its sound it can describe pain, pleasure, hate and love. In language it falls into many grammatical categories. It can be used as a verb, both transitive (John fucked Mary) and intransitive (Mary was fucked by John), and as a noun (Mary is a fine fuck). It can be used as an adjective (Mary is fucking beautiful). As you can see there are not many words with the versatility of ‘fuck’.

Besides the sexual meaning, there are also the following uses:

Fraud: I got fucked at the used car lot.

Ignorance: Fucked if I know.

Trouble: I guess I am fucked now!

Aggression: Fuck you!

Displeasure: What the fuck is going on here?

Difficulty: I can’t understand this fucking job.

Incompetence: He is a fuck-off.

Suspicion: What the fuck are you doing?

Enjoyment: I had a fucking good time.

Request: Get the fuck out of here!

Hostility: I am going to knock your fucking head off!

Greeting: How the fuck are you?

Apathy: Who gives a fuck?

Innovation: Get a bigger fucking hammer.

Surprise: Fuck! You scared the shit out of me!

Anxiety: Today is really fucked.

And it is very healthy too. If every morning you do it as a Transcendental Meditation–just when you get up, the first thing, repeat the mantra “Fuck you!” five times–it clears the throat. That’s how I keep my throat clear! dh1104

One Indian friend has written–his name is Iqbal Kureshi–he says: Osho, what you say between the jokes is beautiful, religious and spiritual, but the jokes destroy your image in the public eye. After all, what is the purpose of all these jokes?

Iqbal Kureshi, that’s exactly the purpose: to destroy the image! I don’t want to be known as a saint–that’s exactly the purpose. And I am not worried about what others think of me–I am not a politician. Only politicians are worried, continuously worried, about what others are thinking about them, because they have to depend on others–the others have the votes. I don’t depend on anybody’s votes, anybody’s opinion. I am simply whatsoever I am. Why should I be bothered about my image?

The very worry about the image is egoistic, but your saints are worried, I know that. I have known all kinds of your saints–Hindu, Mohammedan, Christian, Sikh Jainas, Buddhists–I have come across all kinds of your saints. They are far more political than your politicians, because this very idea is politics: what people are thinking, remain respectable. Respectability is nothing but nourishment for the ego.

I don’t want to be respectable. Either you love me or you don’t love me; respect is simply meaningless. Respect and the desire for it is egoistic. So those who love me, they will love me as I am. I am not going to compromise, I am not going to accommodate. And I could create that accommodation so easily: I could not use a few words–’fuck’ and ’shit’–and I could become a saint. You see how cheap it is! But I am not interested in such cheap saintliness. If I am a saint then whatsoever I say is saintly; if I am not a saint then I may go on reciting the Gita and the Koran and the Vedas but I am not a saint, I am just a parrot.

I am not interested at all in mirrors. I know my original face–and the original face is not known through mirrors. Public opinion is only a mirror.

Iqbal Kureshi must be worried about my image. He says, “It puts your image upside-down.” What is wrong with being upside-down? That’s what they call in yoga sirshasan–the headstand. And as far as I am concerned, I know that you are upside-down, so when you see me upside-down that simply means I am standing on my legs and you are standing on your head!

The whole of humanity is standing upside-down, but because all are standing upside-down whosoever tries to stand on his feet will look upside-down–he will be a minority. The Buddha is always a minority.

Iqbal Kureshi has asked in a friendly way…he must be in love with me so he is worried. He says: Whatsoever you say between the jokes is beautiful, religious and spiritual.

I don’t think so–that is really bullshit! Only the jokes are beautiful, religious and spiritual. But we cannot agree. I cannot agree with you because you are absolutely unconscious, and you cannot agree with me because I am absolutely conscious. We are living in totally different dimensions….

He asks: What is the purpose of all these jokes?

I also ask, “What is the purpose of all these religious and spiritual things that I go on saying?” Just old habit, I think. Otherwise there is no point! And sooner or later you will see–I will only tell jokes….

But Kureshi is worried because he thinks the jokes are sometimes dirty. I have never come across a dirty joke. The idea of the dirty comes from your interpretation, otherwise what is dirty? If you think sex is dirty, then any joke which implies some sexuality becomes dirty. It is your idea that makes it dirty. To me sex is as sacred as anything else–to me the whole of life is divine. And these so-called saints have always been telling you that the whole of life is divine, but it seems they don’t mean it. I really mean it! ultima04

He was only 14 years old.  Born and raised in San Fernando, La Union.  As per his Friendster account - Jesus, girls, especially blond ones, basketball, badminton, tennis, friends, making his life as best as it could be, avoiding and learning from his mistakes were among his interests.  He also loved great movies, had wanted to become a movie producer.  Also loved music, he had wanted to start a band. He’s the kind of kid who’s into getting good grades in school, books, and new experiences.

We were not the best buds, we were not even really close, he belonged to my younger generation of cousins.  I vividly remember him as the bright young boy who can name all the flags in the world.  Yes, he had it all memorized!  I also remember that at a young age, he was already playing drums.  We would see each other whenever the occasion permits, oftentimes here in Manila, when all of us would just hang out in the hotel, us older kids being left to babysit the younger ones.  And of course, summers!  During our annual La Union family trip tradition.

Two years ago, they went to America to live a “better” life.  They even stayed here in our house during their last few days in the Philippines.

Fast forward to April 16, 2009.
On the morning he was going to school, he left his book.
He went back for it, hurried to his waiting school bus when suddenly…
BAMM!
A truck hit him and crushed his body.
He was rushed to the hospital, they had to do an emergency operation.
As per the news, “The boy is bleeding from the mouth, but breathing.”
He still had his vital signs, his pulse still throbbing.
From what I know is, until now he’s still fighting.
Massive brain damage, that’s what the doctor said.
His mother’s also a doctor, she knows what that means.
Clinically dead, so to speak.
We are still fervently praying for him, especially his family who’s in the hospital,  waiting, for him to recover or to fully pass away.

Please Lord, heal him.
If it’s Your will.
He’s still too young.
But if not, we will have to accept it with brave hearts, just don’t make him suffer any longer, please please.

To Tita Sally, TIto Noel, Yedda and IC, our prayers are with you.  Our families are now in different parts of the world but I know that you will still feel our hugs, our love, our sympathy.

EJ, we sure miss you and we all love you.  May our Lord God be with you in all of this.  We entrust you fully to Him.  In His mighty name, Amen.

Please read news article about the accident below:
http://www.pe.com/localnews/inland/stories/PE_News_Local_W_wcrash18.466e984.html
http://www.pe.com/localnews/inland/stories/PE_News_Local_S_webglenivy16.fcaa94.html

Here’s a letter to a barely-friend, who was once a bestfriend (though we never admitted that to each other. )  We used to write letters to each other a lot, eventhough see each other often.  I suddenly felt her absence in my life and realized how terribly I miss her!  Knowing how great it could have been if we are still together.

It just occurred to me that if we are still friends now, good friends as how we’ve once been, I’m sure you’ll be my travel companion.  We’ve always shared that same passion.  We have the same interests and enthusiasm in most things, though you think some of my ways were a little too crazy.  We’ll explore and experience the world together, share views and do things soul sisters do.  I’m sure we’ll do lots of shopping together and you’ll be my facial and hot oil buddy too.  Together, pursuing our teenage dreams, I may now be a wedding planner and you’ll be the one to bake those beautiful wedding cakes.  We’ll even have each other as bridesmaids to our own respective weddings.

I so much miss talking to you.  For sure, we’ll still converse extensively for hours.  I’ve always been able to explore ideas with you, without having to explain the little details because I know you’ll understand.  You’ve always been smart and you’ve always had your own insights, contributing your fair share to the conversation - though some of our topics now seem naive, looking back in those old days.   I hate missing life experiences with you, I’ve learned so much from all of those years we were not talking and I wish I could share them with you now.

If only life is that easy.  If only things are not awkward.  If only it’s that easy to forgive and forget all the pain we’ve unintentionally caused each other.  If only there are no walls between us now.  Yeah, I know we would have been great together, if only….

Just wanna share this guys.  Whether I’m havin a bad day or just plainly bored, these vids keep me company and I’m instantly in a good mood!  They keep me up late in the morning (yeah morning coz I am awake all night working ), my favorite YouTubers.  They did great covers to some of my favorite songs, that’s how I stumbled upon them, while some are just darned funny!  Been watching them for more than a year now.  I just love these guys!  Hope they’ll be able to brighten up day your just like how they do mine. =)

Christine Gambito aka HAPPYSLIP
be sure to check out:
1. band-aid
2. chill pill
3. boypren
4. morning meest
5. i’m yours - jason mraz cover

Kevin Wu aka KEVJUMBA
be sure to check out:

1. girls are like M&Ms

2. i have to deal with stereotypes
3. stupid questions
4. the next big music artist
5. stereotypical names with ben

Chris Cendana aka CCENDANA
be sure to check out:
1. i’m yours - jason mraz cover
2. when the lights burn out
3. velvet fingertips
4. ordinary people - john legend cover
5. how deep is your love - beegees cover

Aj Rafael aka ILAJIL
be sure to check out:
1. dance with my father - luther vandross cover
2. you and me - lifehouse cover
3. little piece of home
4. i just want you
5. my soldier

Gabe Bondoc
be sure to check out:
1. realize - colbie caillat cover
2. girl on tv - lfo cover
3. take a bow - rihanna cover
4. i remember - keyshia cole cover
5. come on over - christina aguilera cover

BAKIT KA LAGING NAKANGITI, SMILING FACE KA BA TALAGA? 
May nagtanong sakin nito mga ilang buwan na ang nakakaraan.  Ang sagot ko?  Isang matamis na ngiti.  Ang mga taong lubos akong kilala, kilala rin ang mga ngiti ko.  =)

=================

hindi lahat ng bagay pinapatulan.  hindi rin lahat ng taong umaaway sayo dapat mo ring awayin.  tandaan, pag pinatulan ang isang baliw, mas baliw ka.  mas masayang ngumiti ka lang kasi mas nakakaloko ang itsura mo. (-,-)

pag maganda ka, o matalino o charming, wag ka ng magugulat na maraming nagagalit sayo.  natural na lalabas ang kanilang pagka-insecure, naaalala nila ang wala sa kanila.  okey lang yan.  wag ng pansinin, hindi karapat-dapat.

ang mga parinig ay hindi pinapatulan - ito’y ka-cheapan.  ibig lamang sabihin na sila’y duwag humarap sa’yo.  hayaan na’t sila lang rin ang mapapagod, sige lang mamamatay sila kakaparinig, haha…

hindi masamang makipag-plastikan, KUNG plastik din naman ang kaharap mo.  parang trade yan, binibigyan ka ng basura, ba’t mo bibigyan ng ginto?  mas maiging itabi at ibigay ang ginto sa nangangailangan at nararapat.  at tama ang aking isang nabasa  kamakailan lang, ang basura dapat itapon sa plastik.  magsama-sama silang mamamaho.

sa mga away, hindi dapat nagkakampi-kampihan.  pambata lang yun, kung nung high school ito’y mas katanggap-tanggap kasi mga bata pa kayo pero ngayon, tsk tsk tsk… liban na lang kung gusto mo talagang patunayan sa buong mundo na ika’y tumandang walang pinagkatandaaan.

at pa’no ka makapagtuturo sa anak mo ng mabuting asal, kung ikaw wala nito?

hindi lahat ng mayaman o nakapag-aral ay may modo.  hindi ito nabibili sa tindahan, ito’y built-in.

at kahit gaano kabulok ang ugali ng mga tao sa paligid mo, hindi mo kailangang ipantay ang ugali mo sa kanila, deadma lang ok na.  at shempre wag kalimutan, ngumiti. =)

…no doubt, is Jim. =)                    

It was a pleasant surprise to see him in Southmall last Sunday.  We’ve been planning to have dinner since last year but our conflicting schedules never permitted us to do so.  Of course, it would’ve been more fun if Lhen was there but then, there will always be “nexttimes”.  We’ve known each other for six years already but nothing about him has changed.  Well, physically maybe, but he’s still down-to-earth, a promise that he kept to both Lhen and I.  Shempre with a teasing threat from me before na “babatukan kita pag lumaki ulo mo!” Hahaha…  His birthday’s coming up on the 10th.  He’s planning to go to Bangkok daw, well advanced happy birthday Mark!

Written for the Wharton Undergraduate Journal.

This is a tribute to the nice guys. The nice guys that finish last,that never become more than friends, that endure hours of whining and bitching about what assholes guys are, while disproving the very point. This is dedicated to those guys who always provide a shoulder to lean on but restrain themselves to tentative hugs, those guys who hold open doors and give reassuring pats on the back and sit patiently outside the changing room at department stores. This is in honor of the guys that obligingly reiterate how cute/beautiful/smart/funny/sexy their female friends are at the appropriate moment, because they know most girls need that litany of support. This is in honor of the guys with open minds, with laid-back attitudes, with honest concern. This is in honor of the guys who respect a girl’s every facet, from her privacy to her theology to her clothing style.

This is for the guys who escort their drunk, bewildered female friends back from parties and never take advantage once they’re at her door, for the guys who accompany girls to bars as buffers against the rest of the creepy male population, for the guys who know a girl is fishing for compliments but give them out anyway, for the guys who always play by the rules in a game where the rules favor cheaters, for the guys who are accredited as boyfriend material but somehow don’t end up being boyfriends, for all the nice guys who are overlooked, underestimated, and unappreciated, for all the nice guys who are manipulated, misled, and unjustly abandoned, this is for you.

This is for that time she left 40 urgent messages on your cell phone, and when you called her back, she spent three hours painstakingly dissecting two sentences her boyfriend said to her over dinner. And even though you thought her boyfriend was a chump and a jerk, you assured her that it was all ok and she shouldn’t worry about it. This is for that time she interrupted the best killing spree you’d ever orchestrated in GTA3 to rant about a rumor that romantically linked her and the guy she thinks is the most repulsive person in the world. And even though you thought it was immature and you had nothing against the guy, you paused the game for two hours and helped her concoct a counter-rumor to spread around the floor. This is also for that time she didn’t have a date, so after numerous vows that there was nothing "serious" between the two of you, she dragged you to a party where you knew nobody, the beer was awful, and she flirted shamelessly with you, justifying each fit of reckless teasing by announcing to everyone: "oh, but we’re just friends!" And even though you were invited purely as a symbolic warm body for her ego, you went anyways. Because you’re nice like that.

The nice guys don’t often get credit where credit is due. And perhaps more disturbing, the nice guys don’t seem to get laid as often as they should. And I wish I could logically explain this trend, but I can’t. From what I have observed on campus and what I have learned from talking to friends at other schools and in the workplace, the only conclusion I can form is that many girls are just illogical, manipulative bitches. Many of them claim they just want to date a nice guy, but when presented with such a specimen, they say irrational, confusing things such as "oh, he’s too nice to date" or "he would be a good boyfriend but he’s not for me" or "he already puts up with so much from me, I couldn’t possibly ask him out!" or the most frustrating of all: "no, it would ruin our friendship." Yet, they continue to lament the lack of datable men in the world, and they expect their too-nice-to-date male friends to sympathize and apologize for the men that are jerks. Sorry, guys, girls like that are beyond my ability to fathom. I can’t figure out why the connection breaks down between what they say (I want a nice guy!) and what they do (I’m going to sleep with this complete ass now!). But one thing I can do, is say that the nice-guy-finishes-last phenomenon doesn’t last forever. There are definitely many girls who grow out of that train of thought and realize they should be dating the nice guys, not taking them for granted. The tricky part is finding those girls, and even trickier, finding the ones that are single.

So, until those girls are found, I propose a toast to all the nice guys. You know who you are, and I know you’re sick of hearing yourself described as ubiquitously nice. But the truth of the matter is, the world needs your patience in the department store, your holding open of doors, your party escorting services, your propensity to be a sucker for a pretty smile. For all the crazy, inane, absurd things you tolerate, for all the situations where you are the faceless, nameless hero, my accolades, my acknowledgement, and my gratitude go out to you. You do have credibility in this society, and your well deserved vindication is coming.

Here’s something that I wrote last Valentines…

Panget - tawag namin ni Jim Bryan sa isa’t isa.  =)

Si Panget, hindi siya cute - kasi gwapo siya.   Hindi rin yan pa-cute, pero pagdating sa’kin sooobra, haha… Patay na patay kasi sa’kin eh, pero mas patay na patay ako sa kanya.  Naghaharutan kami, balibagan, tawagan ng “baby” pang-asar lang (dahil yun ang kanya-kanyang tawagan namin ng aming mga ex.)  Hndi pa kami nagpaplano ng kasal.  Wala pa rin kaming mga plano sa hinaharap.  Hinaharap lang namin ang bawat araw sa tuwing ito’y dumarating.  Hindi niya ko binabawalan lumabas kahit sinong kasama ko, kahit pa lalake.  Hindi kailangang magpaalam kasi malaki ka na at dapat alam mo na ang ginagawa mo at kung sino ang gusto mong makasama.  At dahil may sarili kang utak, umuwi ka sa tamang oras na alam at gusto mo.  Madalas hindi namin alam ang ibibigay sa isa’t isa pag may okasyon kasi malamang naibigay na namin yun sa isa’t isa sa mga normal na araw.  Mas gusto niya ko ng walang make-up, ng hindi nakaayos dahil para sa kanya, mas maganda daw ako.  Mas gusto ko naman siyang mukhang suplado, masamang tumingin at hindi ako masyadong pinapansin, mas hinahabol ko siya pag ganun.  Hindi kami mushy, ni hindi kami nakikinig ng love songs magkasama at, “The Ordertaker” nga yata ng Parokya ang theme song namin.  Hindi niya ko binibigyan ng bulaklak pag Valentines, anniversary, birthday, etc.  Bnibigyan ako ng tsokolate pero pag walang okasyon.  Hindi kami kumakain sa mamahaling restaurant pag anniversary dahil ginagawa na namin yun tuwing kelan namin gusto.

Hindi kami conventional na sweet.  Hindi rin namin kailangan ng ambience dahil kami’y naniniwala na kapag tunay ang nararamdaman nyo sa isa’t isa, hindi na kailangan ng mga ganung aspeto.  Sapat na ang magkasama, ng magkausap, ng simple lang.  Naranasan ko na sa iba ang iba’t ibang klase ng panunuyo pero wala ng mas hihigt pa dito.

Happy Valentines, Panget!  Sana tuloy yung “Valentine date” natin sa estero, kung hindi man, tara, bilangin na lang natin isa-isa ang mga balahibo mo sa hita, ano game?  ;-p

     There’s someone in my new environment right now that I don’t really like.  I’ve never liked her since the very beginning and I’m sure it was quite obvious but since we run along the same circle, I just remain to be polite, civil and yeah, I’m actually nice.

     I was just reminiscing about how I was before, espcially when I was still in high school.  I was really impulsive.  If I don’t like you, I’ll tell you right away.  I was bitchy and do not care what other people will think or say.  Ask my highschool girlfriends!  Haha… I’ll just tell it straight to your face to back off.  I actually remember telling someone, “Pwede ba wag ka masyadong nagfi-feeling, hindi na nakakatuwa eh.  For your information, hindi ka kagandahan para mag-iinarte ng ganyan.”  and she actually cried.  Hey, I wasn’t mean ha!  I don’t do this to just anyone, I’m quite sensitive to other people’s feelings nga eh, I just get this irk whenever I see someone acting high and mighty and I want to take her back to reality and put her in her rightful place.

     Well, through the years, I’ve learned to be less impulsive and apply some brake fluid to all my comments/violent reactions (haha!).  I view this as a part of maturity.  Keeping my mouth shut is really one of my weakest points that’s why it’s SOOOOOO hard to keep quiet when my irritation level is escalating to it’s highest.  But well, congratulate me guys!  Coz until now, I’ve been able to keep my cool!  Whew!

     So, why am I writing about this?  I just need an outlet so that I wouldn’t blurt this all out to her.  Plus, she wouldn’t know this blog is about her anyway.  Really, good for her I’m now tamed.  Or else, tsk tsk tsk….

     (Made me miss my old “About Me” in Friendster, maybe I’ll put it back. => )

08/19/06

5:00 p.m.

   “May eksena ka na naman pala dyan sa Baguio, it’s your time to shine!” - Abi

   Waaaah!

   Ganito kasi yun.  We were rationalizing the answers of the exam we had earlier that day.  Eh I wasn’t feeling well, got this terrible headache so I just decided to leave the class early.  The thing is, I was seated in the middle of the third row. So tyinempuhan ko… When I thought Mr. L. was busy lecturing, I subtlely stood up from my seat pero he still noticed me. He thought that I would be going to the restroom so he shouted, “Takboooo!” Nagulat naman ako so I just sat at the nearest chair while my housemate passed to me the keys to our house. Nung feeling ko di na niya ko mapapansin, I sneaked out and went home. Yun pala, he was waiting for me to come back. Sabi daw, “Where is that big girl? She is very irritable!” Ayun! Nung na-realize niyang matagal-tagal na akong nawawala, aba at inokray-okray ba naman ako sa harap ng klase!  Almost 200 reviewees kaya kami dun!  I just learned about it nung kinukwento na ng mga housemates ko pag-uwi.  Andami-dami daw sinabi about me, jusme!

   Hah! Ok lang! Kanina naman I was awarded (take note, by him!) a gold medal, top two ako sa exam, that same exam na nira-rationalize nung umalis ako! (Beh!  Kala niya ah!  Hmph! =p ) That was the first time kasing I was awake all throughout the exam eh. How? Nakatayo ako habang nag-eexam! Hehehe! Lagi kasi akong nakakatulog in the middle of the test kasi nga puro dictated lang yun questions and choices, walang binabasa, hehehe!

11:00 p.m.

   A friend from the office texted me just now and asked me how I was doing. I replied and told him “Haaay, eto na naman, mananakot ka lang eh! Duty ka?” When he replied, I learned that he’s in the hospital pala, watching over his dad, confined due to liver CA. Haaaaay. I then remembered my dad. If there’s one thing that my mom and my sisters should be thankful for is that at least, we didn’t get to see our dad suffer. In a way, it’s still a blessing considering that most of us will be working in a hospital. I can’t imagine how we can stand that, seeing the same scenario everyday and being reminded of… haaay, basta, thankful ako. Never lang ako magiging ER nurse. (Badtrip ung nurse sa ER eh, “Ah, Romeo Cruz, nasa morgue.” Leche!) It’s been what, more than five months now… parang ambilis ng panahon, ni hindi ko namalayan. Partly maybe because, we got s strong support system. Everyone has been great at extending their help and sympathy, also because yun nga, we didn’t experience the agony of seeing him in distress, kaya parang anjan lang siya, nag-tongits lang or nagsabong, hehe! Hmm, I also believe it was because, unconsciously, our dad taught us to be strong and to face each adversity head-on. Astig yun eh… Imagine, protecting us all six ladies. Takot lang ng gumalaw sa’min noh!

   Just before that friend texted, I was writing about some realizations. Looking back, it seems like I’ve always been too preoccupied with trivial things - either being hung-up on the past or worrying about the future and of things that are not yet even happening to me - that I fail to recognize and appreciate what I have in the present. I was reminiscing about the good times and the not-so-good times in my life. Like what I was doing around this time last year. I just met Val and Mich, and got reunited with Macy. This was the same time last year na puro gimik kami, trying to forget about our respective heartaches (Mark and I just broke up that time) and nagpaloka kami sa Southborder, haha!

(mahaba na ‘to, continuation na lang po sa other blog ko…)

     Hmmm, well eto bago.  I’m presently here in Baguio para mag-emote, echos!  Para mag-review!  Hehe…  It’s so freakin’ cold!  Ni hindi ako makaligo sa umaga!  Eh biro mo, I have to wake up around 5am because my housemates and I attend the 6am mass daily.  Ayun, sa hapon ako naliligo pagkauwi, magpapakulo pa ko ng tubig eh, hehe!  (May heater, takot ako gumamit, ayoko makuryente.)

    Thank God wala ng bagyo. Wala ba naman kaming electricity for two days, sobrang badtrip!  Pano ka mag-aaral andilim-dilim!  It’s still raining pero mostly malakas na hangin na lang and ang kapal ng fog!  Pwedeng makipagtaguan sa gitna ng kalsada, ni hindi mo makita ung nasa harapan mo.

    By the way, thanks pala to everyone who texted and asked how I was doing.  Yeah, andami ngang landslides.  Some roads have been closed due to it and sobrang scary talaga nung umakyat kami dito but ok lang un, si God naman bahala eh.

    Uhmm, actually, my class is ongoing right now.  The lecturer just gave us a 15-minute break but ayoko ng bumalik, mamayang after lunch na lang ulit.  Ugh!  I really have to step out.   Yes, girls and boys, nagccutting class ako.  Kasi naman pucha, halos dalawang taon akong medical transcriptionist na nagttranscribe ng mga slang na medical terms dahil puro Amerikano dictators namin pero ngayon ung accent nung reviewer ko di ko tlga ma-gets!  Imagine, halong English with thick Ilokano accent plus gay jargons and Ilokano expressions, pano ko nman maiinitidhan un!  I’ve always thought na kapag galing province magaling mag-English pero siya kakaiba talaga!  Waaah!  Puro verbals pa ang exam namin, dini-dictate niya lang ung questions and choices, ONCE.  Pucha bago mag-register sakin kung ano ung sinasabi niya, nasa next number na siya!  Grrr… Lalo lang akong naco-confuse sa mga  concepts eh, nadi-distract talaga ko sa manner ng speaking niya, and to think I’ll have to listen to him for four months?  Waaah!  I’d rather be home reading and answering computer-based questions than listen to him!  Ayun, nilayasan ko nga. Hehe!  Pero I can’t do this again, nagccheck sila ng attendance frequently and tumatawag sa bahay ng reviewees, kahit Manila pa, para lang magsumbong sa parents regarding cutting classes and absences, hehe!  Pag nalaman ‘to sa’min patay ako!

    Dami ko na entries pero nasa notebook ko pa lahat eh.  A lot of things had happened before I went here, sana one of these days ma-blog ko.

     For now, I’ll just go back to the dorm and read the next chapters of my Saunders reviewer.

    I hope the review gets better in the next coming days, or else… uuwi talaga ko ng Manila ng wala sa oras!

     WAAAAAAH!