Browsing the blog archivesfor the day Friday, May 2nd, 2008.


VotW #4

video of the week

I’m here at an Internet café in Cubao, and I have a few hours to kill before I have dinner with some bloggers over at Greenhills.  I figure that now would be a good time to present my choice for Video of the Week.

I like to think I have a very broad taste in music (considering the past winners of VotW).  I do like listening to Rage Against the Machine, Rob Zombie, Metallica, and Marilyn Manson, but we all can’t listen to the same genre of music every day.  We need to expand our horizons to include the kind of music we grew up with.  For my generation, that would include The Moffatts, Gil Ofarim, Hanson, A1, and Five.

And then there’s this group.  Here’s this week’s VotW:

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Yes, this week’s VotW is that 1990s pop hit by 911, “The Day We Find Love.”  This may sound like a horrible choice for VotW considering that nobody will ever confess to listening to 911.  But there’s at least one guy who posted a comment in the video who’s at least being honest (clue: he’s the only Filipino brave enough to post his true feelings about the song).

This wouldn’t be VotW if I didn’t translate lyrics, so…

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‘Di to ang una, ‘di magwawakas pa…

Wag kang mag-alala, ‘di ko naman sinasadya
Mauubos din ang luha
Hahayaan ba kitang magparaya?
Hinihiling ko lang, sabihin mo ang totoo
Yun lang ang tangi kong hiling, na sana’y maalala mo pa ako

Ang tanging nagpalaya sa iyo
Konting oras lang ang kailangan mo
Pagmamahal natin
Di pa huli ang lahat

‘Di to ang una, ‘di magwawakas pa
Ang puso ko’y tanging sa yo lamang
Maghihintay din, ‘di lilisanin
Hanggang tayo’y muling magkakapiling

Di ako susuko, habang may pag-asa pa
Panaginip na walang wakas, pag-ibig na walang kasing-wagas
Sa puso ko ay ikaw pa rin ang aking mahal
Ngunit sabi-sabi nila ay, handa mo na raw ako na iwan

Paano na ang nakaraan
Ang ating pinagdaanan
Wag mo sanang kalimutan
Di pa huli ang lahat

‘Di to ang una, ‘di magwawakas pa
Ang puso ko’y tanging sa yo lamang
Maghihintay din, ‘di lilisanin
Hanggang tayo’y muling magkakapiling

Alaalahanin mo, na ako lang nagparaya para sa yo
Konting oras lang, sana’y mahal mo pa rin ako

‘Di to ang una, ‘di magwawakas pa
Ang puso ko’y tanging sa yo lamang
Maghihintay din, ‘di lilisanin
Hanggang tayo’y muling magkakapiling…

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That has got to be my suckiest translation so far.  Whew!  Catch you on the flipside, Marochaholics!

2 Comments

Crutch

personal

“Peace of mind” is a rarity these days.  Not only am I becoming extremely paranoid, I’m starting to really boil over.  Maybe six years of frustrations have built up deep inside of me that I deserve at least one sleepless night to think things over, to sort things out, and to just let it go.

Oh yes, I still am quite angry at some people.  I still can’t let go of a past I should have let go in the first place.  I still get the feeling that I’ve been screwed over one too many times that I can’t help but be an accuser for once.  I still get the feeling that the brunt of “injustices” in this world are passed off to my direction just like used condoms in a motel (sheesh, the metaphors).

At around 2:30 AM, it finally hit me: “injustice,” like “justice” itself, is a perspective.  I often complain that I’m too under-appreciated and taken-for-granted, that I should take my grievances somewhere to someone who would perhaps listen.  Then I realized how much time I wasted looking for reciprocity, for appreciation, for acceptance… so much so that I forgot how much is already in front of my table.  So much so that I forget about the apples already in my basket.  Isn’t that enough to be thankful for?

Sure, I made a few mistakes.  No, wait, I made a LOT of mistakes.  But I kind of forgot how many times, and in how many ways, I got up and took what’s coming, and kept on walking.  I kind of forgot how many times people tried to knock me down, and time and time again, I always clawed my way back up.

So yeah, I always made complaints about how many people didn’t help me when I was down.  I’ve always complained about how many people didn’t become my crutch, how many people screwed me over, and about “getting tired” when nobody “comes to my rescue.”  It took me a sleepless night to realize how much of myself was formed not because I was up, but because I was down.  Of how much of me smells like smoke because I went through the fire, not around it.  Of how much of me stands because I fell.

So I guess I can’t say I got screwed over.  There are too many blessings for me to count.

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  • About Me

    My name is Marck Ronald Rimorin. I am a blogger, a commentator, a journalist. Above all, I am a writer. Writing is more than my passion or my livelihood. Writing is my addiction.

    They call me Marocharim. Welcome to the Experiment, bitches.
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