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Conjunction is a term used in positional astronomy and astrology. It means that, as seen from some place (usually the Earth),two celestial bodies appear near one another in the sky. 
 

December 1, 2008, Venus, Jupiter and the Crescent moon converge in a rare conjunction, appearing after sunset in a form of a happy face.

Scientist must have seen a lot of this in the past and this might not be an extraordinary thing for them. It's just the positioning of the heavenly bodies, but for a simple person like me it is a rare kind...

I just caught a sight of it in the news 'coz I'm asleep at the time that it appeared, but I was still captivated by its beauty. It looks like the sky is smiling down on us... 

In whatever state you might be at that time, if you were able to catch a glimpse of it, I know you will not be able to resist it. You would surely smiled back because deep in your heart you know that everything is going to be okay... 

What is there to worry when even the sky is smiling right after the sun sets on him. It seems that it was telling us that there is still hope... everything will be alright.

Just keep on smiling... :)

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lIfe, bEEr And rEntOn

Yesterday, I texted a friend and asked her if we can have dinner. Unfortunately, she had other plans. So I just stayed home and watched rented films. Then she texted me this afternoon… telling me about the plan of a get-to-together with the barkada this coming weekend. As much as I wanted to see her ‘coz we haven’t seen each other for months I decline the offer. I don’t want to be with too many people right now. I just want to be with a few selected friends…Those that I can really talk to and be who I really am. I’ve started my hide-and-seek game again. The usual not returning of phone calls/texts, not answering e-mails, no-show on special occasions. I’m just not into the bonding mood right now. So I’m doing the underground…

For months I’ve only seen one friend… It just happened that he was at the right place at the right time. So, when I texted him, he arrived immediately. But of course, the group I’m with that night suspected that he is my BF (Haha! Need to tell him about that so we can both have a good laugh).

That night I really needed someone to explain things to me. Why life is such a bitch and why I’m such a mess?!!! Haha! I always asked him that question before… funny that I’m asking him the same question again. Then it hit me. I already know the answer. It was the same answer he gave me four years ago. Maybe I just wanted him to remind me of everything that we have talked about before… About life and all the shit(!) while we’re drowning ourselves with bottles of beer. It was nice seeing him again. He still is my confidante and my critic. And that’s just what I needed. Someone who will listen to me, give me advice, correct me when I’m wrong, criticize me and not patronize me. Once again I was saved… by him.

Although we seldom see each other I know that when life is throwing its worst prank on us we will be there to help each other out. But I still have hope that one day we will be drowning ourselves with beer, not anymore bitching about life but celebrating it. After all we’re both choosing life… that’s what Mark Renton taught us and that’ s what he told me before and still telling me now.

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thE prOdIgAl pAddlEr


June 29, 2008--- the first leg of the 2008 Annual Regatta and the last time that I row.

Why did I stop rowing? I'm not totally abandoning my sport.I just needed a break, not because I get tired of it but because I know I'm not fit to row right now.

Saturday, a day before the race I attended the training. That was my first training after so many months of being idle. I needed to train for I fear that I might not be able to follow the program for the race and will only be a liability for the whole team. So even though I haven't had a sleep that day (I came from work, my work schedule that time was 4pm-1am) I forced myself to train. The end result--- I got cramps while rowing and I almost collapsed.

That made me decide to stop rowing for a while, park my oar and walk away from Manila Bay. I needed to rest and regain my strength.

So I did stop rowing and I focused on my job plus other extra-curricular activities. But because I need not have to worry on waking up early during weekends it gave me more time for gimmicks. Instead of resting and getting my strength back I spent weekdays working and weekends drinking, smoking and partying.

Two weeks ago I got sick due to lack of sleep (my work schedule now is 9pm-6am), overworked and stressed out plus the fact that I'm not living a healthy life. My body can't take it anymore so I had a fever for 4 days. Before, I always tell myself gagawin ko ang isang bagay na gusto ko kahit na ikamatay ko pa. Atleast namatay akong masaya'. But now I'm getting sick over something I don't really enjoy doing and I stayed away from the one thing that makes me feel alive. If I'm going to die I'd rather die rowing than working my butt off.

Fast forward to October 12, 2008---Like the prodigal son I came back to my team, asking once more to welcome me with open arms. I fear that they will reject me but instead they did more than welcome me with open arms, they hugged me so tight and still acknowledged me as one of them. And it made me feel great!

But like a machine that's not been used and oiled for a long time it seems that I still need some tuning-up. I felt like a first-timer and I cannot caught up with my teammates even with the new one's. Well, that's what I get for being too lazy to even do some stretching at home.
 
It's nice being back. I miss Manila Bay, I miss my team and I miss the challenge. That was my first training in more than three months. My body ached, I lost my breat, my heart pounded so loudly as I row to the beat of the drum. I felt the splashing of the muddy water on my face, tasting its saltiness once more. It made me feel that I'm alive and I don't care if die because I know I will die with a smile on my face.

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qUOtEs frOm trAInspOttIng... frOm thE wOrds Of A trUE jUnky

Trainspotting
film by John Hodge
Book written by Irvine Welsh

Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television. Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players, and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol and dental insurance. Choose fixed- interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisure wear and matching luggage. Choose a three piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing sprit- crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing you last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked-up brats you have spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life… But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life: I chose something else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who need reasons when you’ve got heroin?

ΩΩΩΩΩ
People think it’s all about misery and desperation and death and all that shite, which is not to be ignored, but what they forget is the pleasure of it. Otherwise we wouldn’t do it. After all, we’re not fucking stupid. At least, we’re not that fucking stupid. Take the best orgasm you ever had, multiply it by a thousand and you’re still nowhere near it. When you’re on junk you have only one worry: scoring. When you’re off it you are suddenly obliged to worry about all sorts of other shite. Got no money: can’t get pished. Got money: drinking too much. Can’t get a bird: no chance of a ride. Got a bird: too much hassle. You have to worry about bills, about food, about some football team that never fucking wins, about human relationships and all the things that really don’t matter when you’ve got a sincere and truthful junk habit.
ΩΩΩΩΩ
Relinquishing junk. Stage One: preparation. For this you will need: one room which you will not leave; one mattress; tomato soup, ten tins of; mushroom soup, eight tins of, for consumption cold; ice cream, vanilla,
one large tub of; Magnesia, Milk of, one bottle; paracetamol; mouth wash; vitamins; mineral water; Lucozade; pornography; one bucket forurine, one for feces, and one for vomitus; one television; and one
bottle of Valium, which I have already procured, from my mother, who is, in her own domestic and socially acceptable way, also a drug addict.
ΩΩΩΩΩ
The down side of coming off junk was that I knew I would need to mix with my friends again in a state of full consciousness. It was awful: they reminded me so much of myself I could hardly bear to look at them. Take Sick Boy, for instance, he came off junk at the same time as me, not because he wanted too, you understand, but just to annoy me, just to show me how easily he could do it, thereby downgrading my own
struggle. Sneaky fucker, don’t you think? And when all I wanted to do was lie along and feel sorry for myself, he insisted on telling me once again about his unifying theory of life.
ΩΩΩΩΩ
Nor did I. Our only response was to keep on going and fuck everything. Pile misery upon misery, heap it up on a spoon and dissolve it with a drop of bile, then squirt it into a stinking purulent vein and do it
all over again. Keep on going: getting up, going out, robbing, stealing, fucking people over, propelling ourselves with longing towards the day it would all go wrong. Because no matter how much you stash or how much you steal, you never have enough. No matter how often you go out and rob and fuck people over you always need to get up and do it all again. Sooner or later, this sort of thing was bound to happen.
ΩΩΩΩΩ
You’re not getting any younger, Mark. The world is changing, music is changing, even drugs are changing. You can’t stay in here all day dreaming about heroin and Ziggy Pop.
ΩΩΩΩΩ
This was to be my final hit. But let’s be clear about this: there’s final hits and final hits. What kind was this to be? Some final hits are actually terminal one way or another, while others are merely transit points as you travel from station to station on the junky journey through junky life.
ΩΩΩΩΩ
So why did I do it? I could offer a million answers, all false. The truth is that I’m a bad person, but that’s going to change, I’m going to change. This is the last of this sort of thing. I’m cleaning up and I’m moving on, going straight and choosing life. I’m looking forward to it already. I’m going to be just like you: the job, the family, the fucking big television, the washing machine, the car, the compact disc and electrical tin opener, good health, low cholesterol, dental insurance, mortgage, starter home, leisurewear, luggage, three-piece suite, DIY, game shows, junk food, children, walks in the park, nine to five, good at golf, washing the car, choice of sweaters, family Christmas, indexed pension, tax exemption, clearing the gutters, getting by, looking ahead, to the day you die…

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