My Dream Room

The comfort room is also my dream room. Yes, you heard it right, my dream room. No, I don't sleep there 'cause that will make me look stupid than I already am although I'm the type of guy who can take a nap anywhere --- in jeepnies while commuting, in theaters when I find the movie boring, in front of my professor way back in college (the complexity of the lesson and his monotonous voice were like Valium), and even in restaurants when my orders take too long to arrive. Back to what I have said earlier, I never sleep in the comfort room because aside from the fact that I know what it is obviously for, my fantasies erupt every time I'm in there which activates my neurons into their state of creativity. I have no concrete explanation about this "phenomenon" but all I know is that every time I sit on the "glorious throne" (the toilet bowl that is), my daydreaming activity automatically begins that not even my valsalva maneuver could interrupt it. It's like being transported into another place, time, and reality. That's why I call it, aside from its original name, the dream room.

-oOo-

According to Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, each of us, upon fulfilling our physiological, security, and social needs, must see to it that the next level of need which deals on esteem will be addressed. Since I have already fulfilled the basic three in the hierarchy (I think so... he he he), I am now trying to deal on how to increase my self-esteem which we often get through social recognition and accomplishments. This maybe the reason why I often daydream of being a recipient of prestigious awards when I'm inside my dream room. Oscar, Grammy, Tony, Train, Golden Globe, Emmy, Nobel, Pulitzer, Ramon Magsaysay, Famas, Palanca, and so on. Name it, I have it! Of course upon receiving those trophies, usually a shampoo's bottle as my prop, there would be speeches. "Whew! I can't believe this (At this point I will give a quick glance at my trophy... or the bottle of shampoo to be exact, as if utterly surprised). First of all, I would like to thank God for the gift of life and for all the blessings he has bestowed upon me. Then to my mom for all your love, patience, and sacrifices of raising us your sons. You are my inspiration. Thank you too to all my brothers. Your love and support guys have brought me this far. To my producers, writers, director and the rest of the technical staff, thank you very much guys for giving me this break. This is the fruit of our labors! To the academy, thank you for recognizing my talent and for believing in me, you are all amazing. To my fellow Filipinos, I dedicate this award to all of you, we did it again! Mabuhay tayong lahat!" And then I had to cut my speech because the orchestra had already resumed playing. Ha ha ha...

-oOo-

Who wants to be a superhero? Well I do! Just imagine the things that you can do when you are a super powered being --- fly to the moon, teleport to Boracay, walk through the walls of China, read the mind of your crush, summon a typhoon when you feel like tired of going to work, and mop the floor of your house without even holding a mop but just by mere telekinesis. Totally awesome! And yes, I transform into a superhero every time I'm confined in my dream room, also known as the Chamber of Metamorphosis! No, I don't turn into Superman, Spiderman, the Green Lantern, Batman, Wolverine, or Cyclops. Definitely not Wonderwoman or Storm either. My philosophy is against imitations and copycats. I just simply transformed into my alter ego, none other than....... the invincible SUPER JIM! Tadaaaah!!! The superhero who has the power of all known superheroes combined! Beat that! Ha ha ha... As of now I am still making up my mind whether I should sign a contract as a mainstay character of Marvel or DC and whether I should join a group or just go solo. Hmmm... Being a superhero is indeed not that easy. One more thing, let us just keep my real identity a secret, okay? I don't want paparazzi to stalk yours truly, I still want my privacy.

-oOo-

A fiery and idealistic politician sometimes I become in my magical dream room. This usually happens when the whole country's attention is suddenly diverted to big political issues such as graft and corruption, coup and mutiny, involvement of our government leaders in various scandals, and as ever, the big poverty problem. I get easily affected with these issues that, again, sitting in my "glorious throne", I often visualize myself sitting in the middle of a very long oak table, wearing an exquisite barong tagalog, and conducting meeting with my cabinet officials. I will then proceed into an episode in which I will get mad with all their inefficiencies and lack of sense of responsibility and concern. I will then come up with solutions that will alleviate this country from destitution. Time magazine will feature me as the President Who Save The Philippnes. Whew! Tsk tsk tsk... This is what watching the daily news has brought me.

-oOo-

I love my dream room. I can be whatever I want when I'm inside it. Sometimes a famous athlete, an adored rockstar, an A-List actor, a sought-after model, a revered writer, an idolized philanthropist, an immortal seductive vampire, or a sly detective. Anything and everything! Nothing is impossible. The four walls of the small room seem to stretch to contain the vast imagination of my mind. Magical. That's why I see to it that it is clean and deodorized every day.

Call it a delusion of grandeur. Call it insanity. I don't care. All I know is that my dream room serves as place for me to escape temporarily from reality. Sometimes, we do need a break from life's harshness and indifference. Isn't it?

So, wanna join me in my dream room?

Too Much Love Can Kill A Mockingbird

Harper Lee's To Kill A Mockingbird is I think one of the best coming-of-age novel ever written so far, joining the ranks (in my opinion) of Jane Eyre, Great Expectations, and Tom Sawyer. In fact, it is one of my few personal favorites because it reaffirmed my love for reading and even for writing. I finished rereading To Kill A Mockingbird just today for I don't know how many times already, maybe more than my fingers could count 'cause I lost track of it, and the book still didn't failed to mesmerized me, to awaken the child inside me and to find some of the debris of my lost innocence.

I love the way Ms. Lee told the story. She used a child's perspective in the person of course of Scout. The innocence, candidness, honesty, humor, the little naughtiness and mystery in the way Scout recount her story resulted to pure enchantment that I could always catch myself grinning from time to time when I read it. As if the story was mine. So familiar and so true. I was like a child again every time I browse the pages of the book.

Another thing I love about the said novel was it's sheer simplicity and authenticity. The setting was just an ordinary town but the characters were so vivid and almost real that you might think they were just your next door neighbors. The plot too was carefully planned and paced that Ms. Lee was able to turned usual events and activities of daily living into something that is extraordinary and interesting. Most of all, what really bewitched me about the book are the lessons of friendship, the importance of humility and belief in one's principles, and the respect for human dignity.

-oOo-

What will you do for love? This is one of the few questions that really struck my mind 'til now after reading the novel aptly titled Love by the Nobel laureate Toni Morrison which I read every night before going to sleep during the last two weeks. Once again in this work, Ms. Morrison proved to her fans that she could still mesmerize and intrigue them with whatever topic she wants to stir in their minds and likewise to her critics that her flair for making social issues as an interesting subjects in her works has not yet waned.

In this book, Morrison's main characters, all of them black women (reminds me of her another work titled Paradise), were fighting over one man's love and attention. My interest was captured by the rivalry between Christine and Heed, both were former childhood best friends. The former was the granddaughter of Bill Cosey (the man who was the center of their fights) and the latter was the wife of her best friend's grandfather. Got it? The other characters, May (Bill's daughter-in-law and Christine's mom), Vida (Bill's former employee), L (Bill's loyal employee and confidant), Celestial (Bill's mistress?) and Junior (the correctional girl who was infatuated with Bill's portrait) were also in their own ways trying to get even just a chunk of the man's affection. But who would have thought that such love could brought some of them to their own demise? Who would have thought that such love could lead them to misery, loneliness, and isolation? Who would have thought that such love could be as powerful as hate that it slowly consumed them and made them turn against each other?

This book at the end gave me a somber realization. Our obsession about love, that is to love and be loved, often made us blind to the point of insanity. We tend to forget reasons and likewise to value other things that matter such as self-worth and respect, family and friendship. I really pity both Christine and Heed at the end. They ruined their precious friendship and wasted the time to mend it over a love that was never reciprocated. Too much of everything is indeed a bad thing. Too much love destroyed the two best friends. Too much love can kill a mockingbird.

Remembering Romeo In This Day For Fathers

My father was an enigma to me. He was like a stranger and a friend at the same time. When he meant business, acting as a responsible parent, he was like an authority of formidable and unbreakable power that it made me having a hard time penetrating the invisible walls he unknowingly built around him. His serious face, cold and inquisitive stare, firm voice, honest criticisms, and unwavering self-confidence often made my justifications futile and irrelevant. I hated him silently during those moments. It made the rebel in me plan for a coup d'tat which was never executed at all. My mutiny was unspoken.

My father was a strict disciplinarian. Maybe because he was a former teacher. Maybe because he was a soldier. Or simply maybe because it was innate in him to act properly according to the rules. He was a fan of Proverbs 13:24, so he didn't spare us the rod if the blunders we did call for it. But this belief of his didn't made me detest him to be honest. It was his way of making me feel guilty through his tactful words, very solemn and almost holy to the ears, that made me hate and love him at the same time. Inside my heart, those honest words he spilled during times he were mad felt like a white liquid suddenly boiled and exploded my young spirit to deflation.

The intensity of hatred I felt for my father was also as strong as the love I felt for him. I think these two often accompanies each other especially if the person whom you spend your affection and respect with is a person so complex, mysterious, incomprehensible and impenetrable. Unlike my mother who is so vocal with all her emotions and sentiments, my dad on the other hand was a quite man. He was for me a man whose personality was defined by the accuracy of his actions. He wasn't impulsive and I think, he always tried to be a gentleman in all his ways. That was the difficulty I encountered when I was still a kid. I couldn't read his mind with just his actions. Maybe my young mind was still feeble to possess such skill during that time. Calculating his every action was like deciphering hieroglyphics in my bedroom's wall. And that was what made him seem so distant from me, his being so contained and unpredictable.

Yet, there were also times when his coldness vanished and temporarily replaced by the fire of congeniality. Maybe those were the times when his paternal affection was overflowing and too consuming that it temporarily shattered the walls he built. These were the times when he would carefully combed my hair like that of Jose Rizal's style, filed my nails, created toy cars and kites out of indigenous materials for us my brothers to play on, sang for us while I and my brothers had our afternoon nap, cooked our favorite bukayo and fried banana, and patiently taught me my lessons in Mathematics and English. Those were the moments when it felt like he was the long lost friend I lost. The fragile man trapped inside his box of stone.

If there was one trait I really admired my father for, it was his ardent and undying devotion to my mother. His love for her was like a diamond polished by the friction of time. He adored her like a goddess and considered her as his bestfriend, his soul-mate. I think my mom was the only living soul in this planet whom he could honestly connect with. The woman whom he could bare his entire soul. Which really amused me thinking that they were very opposite from each other. My mom is a clanging bell, my father was a silent river. Yet they complimented each other.

Aside from the trait I mentioned above, I also admired my father for his unbending principles and his voracious appetite for knowledge. I think I got my love for reading from my father because every time I watch him reading whether a book or a newspaper, so absorbed and disconnected, he was like an ethereal creature. Flawed yet beautiful.

When I reached my 13th birthday, my father died. The event was too painful for me for a lot of reasons. First, I was too young to be the new head of the family. I was scared of the responsibilities waiting ahead. Second, the absence of my father was like being left in the open to be ravished by wolves. Naked, cold, and helpless. And most of all, there would be no more future opportunities of knowing him, of knowing the man whose past I supposed was lonely and sad. The man hardened by the tests of life. I always thought that I detested my father in the past simply because he was just indifferent and emotionless. But now that I am already reaching my thirty, I started to realize that I hated him way back because I am just like him. I desperately wanted to be like him. Now, I just smile whenever the old folks of my father's kindred say to me, "You are just like your father." I don't know why but those words really give me comfort.

To Romeo, may you continue to watch over us wherever you are. We miss you. Happy Fathers' Day Tatay.

The Karate Kid And His Kung Fu Master

Karate Kid - one of the movies in the 80s that really made me dream of becoming a martial arts blackbelter someday aside of course from the Jackie Chan flicks circulating during that decade which I really loved. Hiyaaaah!!! Now that I am already 29 years old, that dream remained just a childhood dream now stocked in the corner crevice of my mind although from time to time I still dust it off and reminisce upon it with inexplicable joy and amusement.

Who could ever forget (that is, if you're an 80s spawn) the "wax in, wax out" moves of Daniel as he was told by his teacher Mr. Miyagi to wax the old man's car? Which later when Daniel became eventually got tired of the routine chore, aside from the fact he was also told to sand wooden floors and paint fences, expressed his frustrations of learning nothing. But of course, Mr. Miyagi revealed later that what he was doing what actually teaching Daniel defensive blocks through muscle memory disguised in performing those aforementioned chores. Aha! Sensei knew what he was doing Daniel! The movie continued with Daniel's further (extensive) training with Mr. Miyagi and the bond he later forged with his master, so on and so forth.

The original Karate Kid was a big blockbuster that sequels followed --- Karate Kid Part II & III and the Next Karate Kid which starred one of my favorite actresses in the present, Hilary Swank. The movie likewise created a buzz on the pop culture that kids during my time wanted to enroll in karate lessons (like yours truly... He he he...).

Yesterday I was able to watch the remake of Karate Kid starring Jaden Smith (in place of Daniel) and Jackie Chan (in place of Mr. Miyagi). Like the original Karate Kid, the story of Dre (Jaden's character) was the story of coming-of-age, adapting to change, believing in one's self, and the powerful bond that unites two people which is friendship. Although the remake's themes were almost similar to that of the original, there were also a big difference that made the recent version, well, controversial and confusing. That difference was the title of the movie itself. You see, in the current version, Mr. Han (the character played by Jackie and teacher of Dre) was teaching Dre kung fu techniques and not karate. If we are not familiar with the two fighting arts, we can say that they are just the same. But the truth is, there is a big difference with the two. Karate employs linear and crisp movements while kung fu movements are circular and fluid, a mimicry of animal movements. Although both have philosophical and spiritual significance to the people who developed them over the years, they have different origins. Karate is from Japan while kung fu is from China.

Therefore, although I really loved Dre (and a new convert fan of Jaden, Will must be proud of his boy), I strongly disagree with the producers' decision of making the remake's title the same as that of the original. It should be Kung Fu Kid not Karate Kid, just to be politically correct and likewise to avoid confusion. Tsk tsk tsk... Kung Fu Panda is fuming!

I Want To Break Free

I want to break free from my insecurity of having a prominent and vast forehead. Especially in times when it becomes so shiny that it "glows in the dark". From now on, I'll just think of my forehead as the "shining beacon of hope" to all humanity. LOL...

I want to break free from the thought that Armageddon is fast approaching. Chaos is the natural order of life and adaptation is the key to survival, that, I will always put in mind.

I want to break free from all the chain messages entering my cellphone like "Jesus luvs u. Pls pass dis to 20 pipol u know. Dnt ignore or u will have 20 days of bad luck." Duh! Messages like this are pure crap. God is not that shallow that he will give you bad luck just because you haven't forwarded a message to 20 people. Messages like this really boils my blood. So stop sending me one.

I want to break free from my disgust of watching Pinoy teleseryes because I'm starting to get hooked with Rubi! What is the matter with me? Does this mean that my taste for entertainment is starting to get low? Ummm... I don't think so. This is just a confirmation that I am indeed a pure-blooded Pinoy. Aside of course from my love for texting.

I want to break free from being a hopeless romantic dude. I am not Romeo because I know I will never have the courage to end my life just for love. Neither I am not a knight-in-a-shining-armor 'cause I don't even know how to ride a horse! Ha ha ha...

I want to break free from coffee addiction. God, my hands sweat like a river when I get excited even with little things (nervous reaction). And God, my sweat smells like coffee!

I want to break free from worrying what will I look like when I reach my fifties. Worries exaggerate wrinkles. He he he...

I want to break free from my fear of heights (acrophobia). I can't be like this when the time comes that I have to climb the Eiffel Tower. =)

I want to break free from the thought that the world is already crammed with nurses..... Only the Philippines! Ha ha ha...

I want to break free from the idea of dominating the entire world and making all humanities my minions someday. I don't wanna be like Alexander who became frustrated when there was nothing left to conquer for his empire because obviously, this world is getting smaller.

I want to break free from ranting too much. It gives me headache. Gotta get a tablet of paracetamol. Bye!

And oh by the way, HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY! MABUHAY ANG PILIPINAS!

The Proclamation

Right now I am watching on national television the proclamation ceremony of presidential front-runner Benigno Simeon "Noynoy" Aquino III as newly elect president of the Republic of the Philippines. The ceremony is taking place at the Batasang Pambansa and attended by the members of the Senate and House of Representatives, important dignitaries and guests, and supporters. This event I must say is a historical one because Noynoy will be the first President elected through automation poll and because it will be for the first time that two members in a family became presidents of this nation. I am referring of course to the late former President Corazon C. Aquino, Noynoy's mother, Asia's saint of democracy. Further more, after the proclamation, Noynoy will be the first bachelor president of the nation which make it more interesting.

Although Aquino was not the candidate I voted last election, I am still happy with what is happening right now since he was my second bet. Who was the first? Guess it. Ha ha ha...

-oOo-

I just couldn't help laughing at this moment with Sen. Pimentel's humor while listening to his sponsorship speech. According to him, he's happy that the proclamation ceremony is holding in broad daylight and not in the witching hour of early morning in which only witches can witness. Is he referring to the previous proclamation of soon to be descending from the presidency, PGMA? Then he jokingly added that PCOS has now a new meaning and that is President Cory's Only Son. Ha ha ha... It seems that most politicians at this very moment are in good mood.

-oOo-

Finally, Noynoy has been proclaimed as President elect! Same so with Binay for the Vice President position. I wish both leaders, as they step next month to their respective positions, the best of everything. May God give them the wisdom, the will, and the strength in solving the problems of this country especially now that the nation's debt has already reached the amount of approximately 4.3 trillion. Whew! Good luck guys!

Hermes' Bad Day

When I woke up this morning, everything seems ummm... beautiful and inspiring. The morning breeze was cold, the sparrows were chirping gaily outside, the appetizing smell of embutido was beckoning me to come at the table for breakfast, and my head was light (at lucid interval? lol!). It felt like nothing's gonna stop me for making it great today. Carpe diem! Or seize the day! As optimists always say as they open their eyes everyday.

I felt too energized that I could do all errands today with a bubbling spirit. With a touch of love. Naks naman! So when my dear Aunt asked me to put the half sack of rice in the Starex van before she left for the city (she just commuted) 'cause my uncle will going to pick it up, I did it with feet sprinting like that of Hermes, the Greek messenger god.

I first unlocked the van with the key then I headed back to the store room to get the rice without opening first the van's sliding door. I forgot to keep in my mind that the van will automatically close once it will not be opened within 10 seconds or so. And so here I was, carrying the half sack of rice back to the Starex, humming genially. When I opened the sliding door of the van forcefully and until now I don't know why I stupidly did that, maybe I was thinking that the door would slide easily, the handle cracked! Shit! The doors were locked! I immediately unlocked the door with the remote control key but of course it wouldn't still slide because the handle's lower part was already detached from the latch system. Damn!

I stood there frozen. My heart was beating way too fast. I broke the latch. I broke my seemingly perfect day before it had started to unravel. What will be my Aunt's reaction regarding this matter when she found out? Am I to be hanged later? Beheaded? Ugh!

Waiting for the verdict is like torture. It seems like with every tick of the clock, my life is slowly draining too. That's why I'm writing right now in this blog, my own way of releasing stress. Whatever will happen later, may the force be with me.

Another Labor Day

Population control is such an issue here in the Philippines that a lot of groups, either pros or cons, are arguing regarding its morality and practicality. The religious groups, particularly the Roman Catholic Church, are against it if the means of controlling the spurt of population is through employing artificial contraception. The government on the other hand and other practical and liberated sectors are in favor with it regardless the natural or artificial way of contraception is used.

The Philippines is indeed a fast growing country when we speak about its population. As a third world nation, population explosion is a foreseeable problem that will take place in this archipelago in the near future according to experts since the supply or resources of this country is starting to become limited and will never be able to meet the demands of the millions of Filipinos propagating by the second. Furthermore, experts added that a day will come when thousands of mouths will not be able to eat anymore if the rate of the population's growth continue to be like what we have now.

While our government and I guess the rest of the authorities of the world are so preoccupied with controlling the population, some countries even came out with one-child policy, yours truly on the other hand and the rest of my minions, my fellow nursing students that is, are so worried that there might be no sufficient number of pregnant women who will deliver until the deadline for the application for graduation comes. Everyday, before reporting for DR duty, nursing students are praying to all saints existing since time immemorial and even resorted to wearing lucky charms such as charmed bracelets, charmed red underwear and bras, and even use charmed stethoscopes and thermometers (are there such things? LOL!) just to make sure that there will be a lot of delivery cases waiting for them at the labor room upon their arrival.

Nursing students like me who are assigned in the delivery room have only one thing that could make us grin wide up to our very ears and that is the sight of multiple women with protruding bellies, excruciating from the pain of labor contractions. It is like heaven for us. Our strange form of Nirvana. Yes, delivery scores! But if the labor room is empty, the feeling is like that of a lover whose heart is broken to pieces and trampled upon. Ouch! Not another boring or jinxed day!

DDR! Leaking of BOW. 10 cm. Crowning. Mount! Push! Clamp! Scissors! Uhaaaa... Uhaaaa.... These are some of the few words in the DR that makes our adrenaline rush into our bloodstream. The natural high. And after that, the mess! But it's ok, the mess is worth the happiness of seeing your name written next to actual deliveries handled, delivery assisted, or cord care.

But of course, it's not just all about getting scores, the most important thing is to care for your clients, to support them and their families physically, morally, psychologically, and spiritually. Making sure that childbirth is a meaningful and life-changing experience not just for the mother but for the rest of the family as well. Naks naman! Nurse na nurse ang dating!

I'll be having my completion duty tonight at Western Visayas Medical Center. I still have four handled deliveries for deficit. I hope I will be able to complete my number of DR scrubs tonight. So bye for now people and wish me luck in my another labor day! =)

A Cup Of Guilty Pleasure

Coffee. One of the best things on earth that God has ever created. The real "elixir of life" for students, workaholics, and even for the common tambays like me. It is the liquid that runs in my system everyday, the fuel that propels me to move and kicks my neurons to work. I can even say that I can survive months with just it stirring in my stomach.

Everyday I consume at least 3 cups of coffee, maximum is 5. With the range of cups I drink everyday, I know it is not yet a form of addiction (Ows?) because I heard that there are some people who can even consume at least 8 cups on a daily basis (Whoah!). Denial is indeed always the form of defense mechanism addicts resort to... ha ha ha. Anyway, addiction or not, coffee is one guilty pleasure I could not easily surrender. It's a good thing there is no such thing as rehab for coffee addicts because if there is then I'll be damned. Three-fourth of the world's population will be damned! Ha ha ha...

Anyway, an instant for me will do but brewed coffee will always be an excellent choice and the best experience.

So, have a cup?

Here Comes The Rain Again

Finally, the sky gods pitied us and urinated on our dried cracking earth! I am grateful to the heavens above because this past week, raindrops, though limited in amount, finally kissed our land denied of moisture for a very long time. I couldn't almost remember what the rain sounded like that it seemed like an alien thing hearing it dropping on the tin roof lately. Thank goodness that the cold front has started to visit us or else, not only will our lands go cracking and melt into lava in the future but our heads as well. (lol!)

The effects of the El Niño phenomenon were really devastating. Rivers, like our very own Tigum River, the main sources of irrigation for farm lands and likewise for households, were starting to dry up that harvests of staple crops such as rice and corn were too low. Bathing too became a rare thing for people due to the very limited supply of water reaching their homes. Sweat became the most common scent wore by everyone and sleeping at night became a torture due to poor ventilation and heat. I even saw 3 bodies of dead toads starting to desiccate outside our gate garden which I suspect died because of heat stroke. God bless those ugly yet harmless little creatures! But with much hope, I guess the torment brought by El Niño will finally come to an end since some parts of the country are starting to experience heavy rain lately. Wet days are here again! Or is it?

Well, if rainy season is indeed approaching, I might as well start creating a heavy-duty raft because here in the Philippines, there are only two things one must expect with the changing of the seasons: the lands will either crack or will turn into swimming pools! As for me, after months of utter dryness, I don't mind having a swim for a week.

My First Strange Encounter With A Jejemon

Jejemon: 30hw p03h! MhÜz+4 p03h kh4u?

Me: Huh? Sin-o ni palihug?

Jejemon: 4ñ0 kh4 bh4 khÜ¥4! C j3r3£¥ñ p03h !+0. D mh0w bh4 n4z4\/3 4Ñg ñÜ # kh0w?

Me: Ano man? Indi ko ka-gets sang ginapangtext mo. Kay-ada abi. Sin-o ka haw?

Jejemon: Nh4k0w! C khÜ¥4 +4£4g4. \/3r¥ fÜññ¥! j3j3j3...

Me: Ambot sa imo! This is my last reply. Kung indi mo pagkay-adon ang reply mo, indi ta na ka pag-entertenaron.

Jejemon: khÜ¥4 +4£4g4, dh4w £h40ñ!!!

And I didn't reply for several minutes. This is a prank, I said to myself. People with nothing to do. Huh!

Jejemon: khÜ¥4, z+!££ dh3r?

Still ignored.

Jejemon: Cge na lng oi. Kuya, dis is jerelyn ur couzin. jejeje...

Me: Damn! Ikaw ni gali?! Ano tong ginapang text mo man? Kailinit ah, di ko kaintindi.

Jejemon: khÜ¥4 +4£4g4! z00 0Ü+ 0ph z+¥£3!!! j3j3j3...

Me: Ok that's it! Don't text me again until you're free from the demon that possesed you. Bye.

Jejemon: khÜ¥444444444444444444444444!!!!! jhÜ jhÜ jhÜ.....