11/1/24
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Accidental Heroine

gabriela-silang

True story:

Eons ago, when I had become a very bad person in a very bad place, I was out to “outbad” the bad people.

In a twist of ironic fate, a frail old man who was being taken advantage of by the bad people I was trying to “outbad”, mistook my bad actions for an act of heroism.

Thinking I was a noble heroine, the old man gently cupped my face with both of his palms, looked me straight in the eyes and said, “You’re a beautiful creature, what are you doing in this place?” I was startled by the gesture. What an unusual thing to say!

Although I could not see directly for myself what he was seeing, his expression revealed the image. Then, as though hypnotized, I walked away from that place. Not because of a sudden wave of guilt, mind you—but because that “beautiful creature” he saw, told me “I’m better than you”. So I said, here, hold my beer.

I’ve been trying to “outbetter” that bitch since then.

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#DeiahEra #MyDeiahDays

11/26/23
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Binary Tree Maze: Predetermined Paths

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Who am I?

I am the person traveling this path. The path was not set by me. My tools, attributes, were given to me, some I picked up along the way.

Our paths, it seems, are predetermined. Our choices, just a cascade from the primordial decision. Then the universe narrows down your choices to binary: Do or Don’t. And just when you think you’re at least in control of that — it rains. The universe conspires and freewill is an illusion. Our Life’s purpose is for us to walk the paths and experience it.

And now, I feel like I finally understood what Kahlil Gibran said, “You are the way and the wayfarer”.

11/26/23
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FWB

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written on Sept 13, 2023

The transience of things
And of looming ending
That can happen anytime
The unspoken agreement
Neither of us defined
But we adhere to
The murder of emotions
The lack of humanity

The walls around us
And the happy facade
What are we so afraid of?
What am I so afraid of?
Are we so traumatized,
That we all hide inside our shells?
Afraid of getting caught
For the crime of feeling or caring

The fear of rejection
And shame of being found wanting
So we hide behind the mask
Of never needing
And sit in the cold
With our only company
That we protect at all cost
Our pride and dignity

11/26/23
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Hues of Fond Recall

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Not in the present, but in their past’s embrace,
In their could-have-beens, I find my place.
A ghostly companion to remorseful minds,
In their regrets, a version of me unwinds.

In the reverie of hindsight, they romanticize,
Casting my presence with a saintly guise.
Tears and pleas, once dismissed, now adored,
As they weave a tale, where I’m saintly adored.

A figure of grace, in the retrospective light,
In the canvas of memory, I stand so bright.
A saintly mirage in the past’s rosy track,
Yearning whispers echo, “Bring the saintly back.”

But neither can I resurrect the saintly lore,
Nor would I feign to be anything more.
I’d rather linger unseen and drift away,
In the cold truth’s embrace, I’ll be okay.

08/24/22

Consciousness

As a programmer, I believe, an AI will never be self-aware.

An AI is nothing but a script that pulls from a database when certain conditions are met. No matter how big that database gets and no matter how complex the conditions were, the AI will not gain consciousness.

To believe otherwise is like making a handful of goo and thinking that if you make that same goo the size of our planet it will all of a sudden gain consciousness. You don’t have to be a programmer to know that’s illogical. If it didn’t work on a small scale, it will not work on a larger scale.

It’s like a piano, where each key corresponds to a specific note or sound. The difference with AI is that, for each key, there’s a set of possible notes. At first, the AI randomly selects from that set. Over time, based on user interactions or the model’s design, it learns to play the most popular or favored notes more often. This process is called machine learning. However, it doesn’t truly “think” for itself—it simply follows a model. Regardless of how large the piano gets or how many sounds it can produce, it remains, at its core, a piano. It won’t suddenly become a conscious being, because the issue isn’t the size or processing power—it’s the underlying design.

Continue reading

05/15/21

The Twig and the Boy (Ang Suwi at ang Binatilyo)

I can’t sing
And even if I can, I don’t have the right words
And if I have the right words
Would you hear it?

I can’t paint
And even if I can, I don’t have the right colors
And if I have the right colors
Would you see it?

If I can express this emotion
That the person inside me feel for you
Would the person inside you feel it?

How can one put into words
Or find the right melody
Or even draw on a paper
The intricacies
Of a bitter-sweet, one sided memory?
Using statements that only serve to misrepresent
Adjectives at best only approximate
Of undying emotions, flavored by the present
From a time long gone

Like a tree telling a story
Of pains, secrets and splendor of what once was
And a man who only remembers the twig
And the tree who only remembers the boy

You, are not who you were
I, am not who I was
Yet who we were, once was
Now, live in solitude, locked up inside us
And though desperately trying to reach out for one another

They will never meet again

And for their story, let this be my final plea:

That though we remember separately
And hear but echoes of what used to be,
Together, the you and I of today…
Let’s honor in friendship’s new light
The beauty of all that once felt right

And when the time comes
With my last breath
I would have but one last prayer
That when we are both no more
That the universe remembers for us
And piece together, what we could not

The memory of the tree and the man
The twig and the boy
You and I, who were, once was

06/21/20

My Hidden Mother

Beneath the tough, thorny and cold facade, mired in chaotic, dark mess of regrets, traumas and unresolved issues… is my mother.

Broken as can be, still she tried, with all her might, she tried to be good. But reality can’t be denied, she can’t change her form. She’s beaten and molded to a certain shape, she can’t escape.

Inside her, is my mother, longing to hold me. Inside me is a daughter longing to hold her.

05/18/17
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The Sea

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The Sea is calling for me again and the breeze is tempting me. My feet says stay here and grow your roots for once. My heart says, you do not belong here, don’t get stuck. My brain tells them — shut up, you two, and let me sleep.

10/19/13
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The Good that Can Be

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Once upon a time I felt lonely
With the unpredictable wind I gambled away certainty
For I greatly wondered all the things that could be
With hopes that I will get that one good thing that I might see

In my quest I found a box, worn and torn as could be
My friends told me, leave it be, it is where it should be
But I’m a dreamer and I imagined all the best it can be
I labored to dug it out and finally took it home with me Continue reading

07/15/13
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Sudden awareness to existence

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This sudden rush of awareness to my own existence happens to me from time to time and each episode last only for a few seconds to about 2 minutes. When this happens, it feels as though I was just born and awoke to realize I exist. And a billion questions that I can’t yet name just overwhelms my brain, and all I can really focus on is WHY?!!! Continue reading

09/14/12
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Unto eternity unmoulded…

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Unto eternity unmoulded I would give my hands,
And to untrodden fields assign my feet.
What joy is there in songs oft heard,
Whose tune the remembering ear arrests.
Ere the breath yields it to the wind?
My heart longs for what my heart conceives not,
And unto the unknown where memory dwells not,
I would command my spirit.
Oh, tempt me not with glory possessed,
And seek not to comfort me with your dream or mine,
For all that I am, and all that there is on earth,
And all that shall be, inviteth not my soul.

- The Earth Gods, 2nd Earth God – Kahlil Gibran