Problems for my Bookkeeping Students
Norliz, Khayvie c/o Jema and Zafra…
so sorry kasi medyo nalate ang supposed “email” ko na naging post sa friendster blog ko. Ngayon lang kasi ako nagising at paglabas ko naman ng house para mag-internet ay naiwan ko ang list ng mga email add ninyo. Hay! Eto yata ang epekto ng overload sa Decolgen…anyway eto na ang problems na iso-solve ninyo. I have here three problems with two questions each. Di ko na ginawang four kasi baka awayin ninyo ako. Good luck dito…kaya niyo yan!
1. ABC Co., is a company specializing in the production of Roll-a-Pen, a new age pen with compressed ink and precision features that allows for smooth unimpeded writing.
DEF Co., is a merchandiser of school supplies aiming to be at par with National Bookstore.
On November 11, 2008, ABC Co. and DEF Co. signed a contract of exclusivity, stating that only DEF Co. will have the distribution rights for Roll-a-Pen. The following day, November 12, 2008 DEF Co purchased 50 boxes of Roll-a-Pen on account.
*What principle should be recognized in the books of DEF Co.?
*What principle should be recognized in the books of ABC Co.?
2. On November 25, 2008, DEF Co. purchased additional 100 boxes of Roll-a-Pen from ABC Co., issuing a promissory not for the said merchandise. DEF co. also paid in full their previous purchases.
*What principle should be recognized in the books of ABC Co?
*What principle should be recognized in the books of DEF Co.?
3. DEF Co. was bale to sell 100 boxes of Roll-a-Pen by January 20, 2009. The maturity of the promissory note they issued to ABC Co was not until February 28, 2009, so they used 50% of the returns from the sale of Roll-a-Pen for the purchase of Php 100,000.00 worth of certificate of stocks from ABC Co.
*What principle should be recognized in the books of DEF Co.?
*What principle should be recognized in the books of ABC Co.?
Uncategorized | Comment (0)Ang Kabataan ni Rizal
Wan handred.
Ang iskor ko sa videoke
Ay wan handred.
Dun sa tindahan ni mang isko
kasama ang mga tropa…
mga tropa kong siraulo.
Banal na aso,
santong kabayo,
yun ang kinanta ko;
serbesa ni lola,
yun naman ang nilaklak ko.
Ako’ istambay,
Lasenggo at lagi na lang nakagulapay.
Walang trabaho,
palamunin ako ng nanay ko.
Walang silbi,
asa lagi sa swerteng
paambon ng aking ate.
P*%$@$$na,
sino ba kasi nagsabi,
na kabataa’y pag-asa ng ating bayan?
Kaya pala,
sya’y wala na,
nilibing na dun sa Bagumbayan
kasama ng pananalig niya at nalalaman.
Kabataan niyang inaasahan,
siguradong hindi ako.
Uncategorized | Comment (1)Just A Little
Give me a smile,
I pray, kind sir,
ease my misery for a while.
My burdens can be too
heavy to carry,
such heavy loads to bear,
and a crumb of your happiness
may help me
breathe away
my cares.
Pass me a drink,
madam,
I beg you, please,
relieve my parched throat.
The day has taken its toll on me
and my body is giving up,
screaming for mercy.
Maybe a sip from your goodness
may allay
my thirst,
dampen the drought
in my soul.
Pass me a drink,
madam,
I beg you, please,
relieve my parched throat.
The day has taken its toll on me
and my body is giving up,
screaming for mercy.
Maybe a sip from your goodness
may allay
my thirst,
dampen the drought
in my soul.
Share your shelter.
sir,
lend me a roof.
My bed is the concrete sidewalk,
my pillow a cardboard box.
You have so much,
it overflows.
I have nothing.
It wouldn’t hurt to
give a little,
love a little,
trust a little.
Sir, just a little will do.
hey guys…I’d love to hear from you. Just send in your comments ha…pax!
Uncategorized | Comment (0)Ruminations of a Fool
I believe in God and in having faith. I believe that all the religion in the whole world boils down to one bottom line: that there is someone bigger, cooler and more glam than the rest of us here now and that Catholic, Protestant or Muslim we all believe in that bigger being. I believe that wars in the name of religion are worthless, fraudulent and a total waste of time, money and life; something better may have come out of all that effort had it been exerted into something else.
I believe in freedom, but I don’t consent to it being misunderstood. Freedom is something intangible and real; something more than being able to consume more than what you can handle, being able to buy the latest gadget at your liberty and waste things that ought to have been used better by somebody else. I believe that freedom is something you work hard for and is not something you just get by whining. Men and women who lived before us fought for the right to be born, to live, to speak and be heard, to work with their brothers and sisters of different races, lineages and faith, to vote and be voted, to be members of the same community as the privileged and to be entitled to the same perquisites that any other Pedro, Maria or Juan can afford. This is freedom and I believe in it.
I believe in living for today, in taking chances and in gambling, but definitely not in casinos. To spend the rest of your life worrying over the lines on your face and the money on your pocket is to waste it and let every good thing pass you by. I do not claim to be free from vanity and, yes, I am a victim too of worrying about yesterday, today and tomorrow, but now and then I break the rules and norms of my life, at least I try to if only to keep my sanity. Yes, I believe in breaking the common way of living, in pushing the accelerator way past 180kph now and then in the highway, in sticking your tongue out at the jerk in the bus when he ain’t looking, in drinking straight off the pitcher and being the crazy little bitch that people don’t expect you to be; life isn’t about following what the law book says, it’s about doing what feels right and good without stepping on someone else’s foot.
I believe in beauty and in fairy tales, but, perhaps, not in the proverbial “happily ever after”. There is always the rhetorical question at the end of every storybook ending and the search for the missing link of what happens to Snow White and Cinderella after Prince Charming sweeps ‘em off their feet and takes them riding into the sunset. Somewhere along the way, Charming will come home late one night, drunk and senseless, and the smashing, slim and sweet lady of the story will become a few pounds heavier with a deeper, more volatile temper. The end note is that the sweet always comes hand in hand with the bitter: you’ll never learn to appreciate life as it is if you never see its dark and ugly part.
I believe in love, dear God, don’t we all? I believe that it comes when you least expect it, want it or need it; it comes when you are prepared. It does not cheat or lie: it only speaks the truth, like the magical sitar in Moulin Rouge. It doesn’t give a damn about distance, color or race; it doesn’t even question political beliefs and religion; it opens doors, makes way for compromise and meeting halfway and it nullifies what division does. It goes beyond the extra mile, it exceeds its limitations and it lives beyond life after death. Love, is more than the cherry on top of a sundae, it is everything on it: the ice cream, the syrup, hell, even the cup where it is served.
I am not a beauty queen, a politician or a millionaire-philanthropist, I wouldn’t even pass for a lecturer, much more a prophet, and I have a good guess that nothing I say here and now will ever change the way people feel or think. It’s not that I lack convincing power, well I do and that is another two-pager for another day, so let’s not go into that, but these things that I believe in? A good thirty million of you guys out there probably believe on these same things that I have enumerated and probably some of you, those who have had the opportunity to read what I have to say, are nodding their heads as they go along my simple rubbish. The fact is these things that we know and already understand are sometimes buried so deep within us, that, rather than live these things out, we forget them, perhaps out of fear or worry, I don’t know, maybe even pain.
I am not selling out a new idea and I know that I am never going to profit over what I am saying, what I’m doing is addressing the things that we, scums that we are, forget as we go along the boulevard of life. We all have become quite perverted and although it is not impossible to change the world, it definitely will take more than ten years to achieve that trite line “world peace…”, but we can make day to day living a little more conducive to each other by just looking deep inside us and remembering the things that we learned in kindergarten. I know it’s getting slightly corny and a wee bit cheesy, but, hey, I said these things and I’m proud of it.
Uncategorized | Comment (1)My Sweet Dental Xperience
08.15.2008
5:55 p.m.
By this time, the anxiety of being on my own is beginning to get to the very marrow of my bones. The emptiness of the house, save for me in front of the computer, my grandmother in her room and Gina languishing in the old armchair by the porch is like death by asphyxiation. Add to that, the depressingly melancholic music playing from the radio that I have tuned into at random. Wow! I know and admit that I truly am antisocial, a total loner at certain instances, but this? Gosh, this is so over the edge that I just have to rant about this one right about now.
Okay, my gums are stitched and swollen, I could hardly open my mouth and yawning, laughing and talking cause me sudden pain around the jaw line that this hindrance, however necessary, is actually pissing me off. Let me tell you, the extraction of an impacted wisdom tooth is the worst procedure that could ever befall any living individual, I would not wish it even to my worst enemy. It’s like travelling, barefoot, back and forth across a valley of coals, razors and sharp, crushed glass. And that is still an understatement.
The procedure begins, if I remember it correctly, with topical anesthesia being applied around the gum area where the dentist will inject the actual anesthesia. Fact is when my doctor did the injection, I actually felt the long, thin needle going into my gums and I had to close my eyes so I wouldn’t see the stainless steel being taken out of my mouth, lest I faint over the offensive pain that it caused me. But that is still what we Filipinos call “kagat ng langgam” compared to what I felt afterwards.
After a few seconds of opening and closing my mouth, as per the dentist’s instructions, this act, she said, quickens the effect of the anesthesia, the lower right side of my face began to feel numb and satisfied that I will no longer, for a given amount of time, feel anything, she took out this stainless screwdriver/ice pick like instrument and said: “Okay, you will not feel anything.” Trusting her, I fought the nauseous impulse to vomit first then faint, I opened my mouth and said my prayers. Alright, that’s overkill, but imagine something like that being used to take a tooth out of you.
And then, the procedure began. You know the promise of “not feeling any pain”? Perhaps under normal circumstances, it is true, but in my case, since the force necessary in pulling the impacted tooth out should be more than the usual, it causes trauma around the gum area, giving me some feeling of pain. And this pain, is not mere, it is like an annoying headache that will not go away unless you take in a pill. That is not all, imagine that pain and the sound of struggle between your tooth and the dental instrument rumbling in your ear, the tenth cotton ball drenched in your blood you see being taken out of your mouth and the “tsk-tsk” of the dentist as she wipes her brow of the sweat that has formed because of the tedium of pulling the stubborn molar out. That, my friends, is what I had to go through.
Gosh! And the fact that for the past twenty-four hours, I have not been able to yawn when the impulse to yawn hits me is one of the most frustrating things ever. You would think that I am just making a big thing out of nothing, but try suppressing that, and you’d see what I mean.
Well, at least I got that out. Now let’s see what I can write about next time? Perhaps this freakin’ headache and the annoying band singing “Butterfly…butterfly…” repeatedly? Aw, whatever! Karen—out!
Uncategorized | Comment (1)Finding Neverland
This could be it: the things that fools write about love. That fluttering within the very pit of your stomach and the airy feeling emanating from places inside you can not exactly pinpoint. The strangeness, the fear and the ecstasy rolled into an unknown and unnamed emotion no philosopher can ever comprehend. Those things are all true.
Teenagers say that they are not too young to know what love is. Simple enough to explain: you’ve got chemistry, physics and geometry, how can you not get something as easy to understand as L-O-V-E? Sorry kids, you’re wrong. Your notion of what that trite emotion is all about is still immature and superficial; you’re still at a stage where curiosity and infatuation overshadows real feelings and which will lead you into places and situations that will compromise your future.
I know for a fact that, because of my arrogance and this belief that I see more and know more, I have led myself into the belief that I am purely, honestly, head to toe and no doubt about it crazy over this “lower than sub-cool” guy, even when the truth was that I just found in him the things that I wanted to find in myself. He was more of like a kindred spirit, a brother in the same faith…a long lost nerd-brother.
The Tristan-Isolde, Romeo-Juliet, Mark Anthony-Cleopatra and Ibarra-Maria Clara thing is completely not the type of connection we ever had or ought to have. We were more of a Dawson-Pacey kind of thing. That explains it.
Now, I can say all these without even feeling guilty about anything that I say, because I know that I am actually telling the truth. I am not inventing this “I’m letting go”-shit anymore, it’s the freakin’ real deal. I didn’t go into psycho-therapy or got enrolled in Pilates, I just found someone who saw the best in me and realized (cue music: Feels Like Home ;p) that I’ve found something in him that makes me feel real.
I can’t go into all that crappy, sappy things that people say when they get married, it’s corny and for crying out loud I am just twenty-two years old, it’s not like I’ve lost my mind already. But I got to say that he makes me feel human, that I am not an emotionless sociopathic-creep walking and talking like a normal person even when I am not. That I can cry and laugh again without worrying about what other people would say.
He makes me feel wanted and accepted; that despite of my insecurities about myself, he sees more and beyond my flaws. Sure he makes fun of me, but he does so in good nature and instead of being offensive, he taught me how to laugh at myself again.
I haven’t written for a long time, so this is an achievement. One sentence is a baby step, a paragraph is two and a page is at least a leap, so ten cheers for me. But beyond that, I am glad that after a long time, my first one is something about him, about me and about us. I don’t say it often, I don’t even say it first, but I’d like him to know that whatever it is that he is feeling for me, I am also feeling it for him. Redundant and corny, but undoubtedly true. XOXO – Karen 052008
Uncategorized | Comment (0)The Ilusyunada and The Night Time Jewel Box
This piece was written in a moment of weakness, when, after setting my alarm at
five a.m.
, my body clock went berserk and took me out of sleep half an hour earlier. It was also during the time when my head and heart went in total sync with each other’s weirdness and got me all mushy and contemplative of my incredibly ludicrous notions of love (thank you Moulin Rouge). So, if you find this piece totally confusing, don’t think about going to a shrink and ‘fessing about your addiction to chocolate coated peanuts and declaring the possibility of schizophrenia; it’s me and my ever changing and totally paradoxical views on life and love and all the things that normal people view in consistency. Heck, I’m not making any excuses, I’m just telling you about me.
02.12.2007
05:15 pm
Walking in the moonlight while on the way home can really get me thinking romantic thoughts. Like what if that stranger ahead of me is the one I’ve been praying for, or the guy riding with devil-may-care speed on his motorcycle is actually gearing to make an impression on me, however lame (ilusyonada on the go). It’s weird how simple moonlight can raise up the level of my enthusiasm on the aspect of love. Silly, I know, but that’s just exactly who I am: a silly, hopeless romantic goose.
Tilting my head up and gazing at the clear
midnight
sky, I spot two of my favorite constellations: Cassiopeia and Orion. Favorite because the two are the only two constellations that I can ever identify on the spot. Orion’s introduction to me was not so romantic as Cassiopeia’s was. Blame it to my addiction to really sappy movies, but after watching Serendipity I went out of my house and, despite the cloudy nighttime sky that time, I located her after much difficulty.
But that wasn’t my first love affair with the nighttime jewel box. When I was a high school freshman, one of my classmates taught me a way on how to find my soulmate (I still believe that they exist, thank you very much). It was some sort of witchy ritual where you find a special spot, anywhere you like, sprinkle glitters on that spot, stand on it, dip the point of a pencil in the box of glitters (prepared specifically for that purpose), point to a star of your choice (this means you have to do this on night time, Einstein), supposedly the first one that catches your fancy and say some kind of chant (I forgot the chant, by the way, sorry ladies). Your soulmate was supposed to come through your front door after some time, there’s no specific time frame, so I’m not losing hope on the ritual I did religiously for one week (call me a freak, but I was that bent on finding my soulmate harharhar).
Anyway, my soulmate’s not coming anywhere near my front door, but that was when I began looking forward to clear skies at night and the monthly appearance of full moons and the waning and the waxing crescent, it’s kinda geeky, I understand, but I really, really have this partiality towards the night time sky. It does not have anything to do with my being a romantic (warning: word repeated for the nth time), maybe the only time that I really like looking at the sky during the A.M. is during daybreak, sunrise and, well, sunset.
There was a time, during the delusive, punch-drunk, maudlin moments of my life when I would just lie on the hood of my father’s jeep, stare at the sky and shed my little tears of rage and pain. Sometimes, it would be during an extremely rainy weather, looking out of my window or sitting on the wooden bench in our porch and just staring at the drops of rain falling, again, from the sky. But most of the time, it would be at night, and the sky was the witness to all my frustrations and my heartaches; to all the tears that I’ve cried; the tears that never came, even when they ought to have made their ephemeral introduction to the world; and, the wishes that I wished constantly.
I remember the very first time that I saw a falling star. It was December and I was just twelve years old. I was standing on the sidewalk with my cousin and my father when this quick thin and almost unnoticeable light sliced through the black velvety sky. I gave out a shriek and said I’d make a wish, but for some reason, perhaps excitement, I never got around to making one. Maybe, if I wasn’t too excited that night, maybe if I had wished for something, maybe something will be different between you and me? Lame, but I can’t help hoping that I would catch a glimpse of another one, a falling star that is, and send out my wish to it. That wish is to have you.
Walking under the moonlight, on another night where strangers are walking past me and motorcycles and noisy cars are speeding past me, I can only hope for something more than my love affair with the sky. That someday I won’t be looking up to her with tears on my eyes, frustrations in my head and hopeless wishes that I’ll whisper quietly to her; that someday I will be looking up at her with the someone that the star I pointed my pencil at sent to me; that finally, one fine day, I’ll find my twin star, my soulmate.
Uncategorized | Comments (2)Maybe…
Maybe one day you’ll walk past me, as if you never knew me; as if you never saw me. When in fact I was there standing right in front of you, larger than a flea. Pretty big enough to be found, seen and considered.
Maybe one day you’ll just ignore me, like we never ever were friends; like I never knew how very disappointed you were when that car run past us and made you all jumpy, you dropped your Nestle Drumstick. Childish and corny, but, nonetheless true.
Maybe one day you’ll choose not to see me, pretend that you’re blind or something close to that. Perhaps I’ll let that pass because I know you’re really wearing contacts and you’ve grown out those dorky-thick lensed glasses you had back in Highschool and that they don’t really work that well anymore. (Hell, I’m so grammatically wrong I think my English Teacher will strangle me any minute now.)
Maybe you didn’t really get to read the letter I sent you. And for all my stupid fears of being such a cheappie-pay, I could be saved by the intervening powers of Friendster Messaging Problem, or, then again, maybe not.
Maybe in a few more months I’ll be able to get over you. Maybe a little more time would do and maybe I’ll really forget you. Maybe…just maybe.
Uncategorized | Comment (0)Andyan ka na naman tinutukso tukso ang aking…puso
Yes, I feel empty sometimes; like the feeling of having a hole inside your chest instead of your heart (and, yes, your lungs too, you science freak!). It’s not some kind of epiphany that I’ve just realized two seconds ago: it’s a definite fact that I seem to have known since I got out of highschool and thought “here’s the real escape.”
Fact of the matter is there’s no such thing as “a real escape.” There’s no truth to eluding something and breaking free of that all at the same time. It’s either you face it or you don’t. That’s all there is to it.
I chose to elude a certain fact back then, and now, almost five years later, that s***t haunts me like the dang Christmas Ghost. It won’t leave me, even when I’ve said that it’s all over, that I’m better now and that I won’t go back to that time when I was a slave to my long lost past. I don’t want to elaborate anymore, because it’s so boring and trite that saying it over and over again gets tiring to whoever’s reading this at the moment.
I need to do something about this, I know that I really have to. Because if I don’t do it any sooner, I’ll go on living in this pathetic state: hoping to have even just a morsel of attention from someone whose life exists for someone else. I will go on looking for a bit of him in every person I meet, hoping to breathe a second breath of him. Hammy-Romantic, I understand, but sometimes the truth can be really kinda corny.
So, if in the next few days somebody receives a letter from me, a letter that hopefully makes some sense, I would like to request that person to have as much dignity and integrity so as to maintain mine. I don’t even know what I’m talking about…It’s just about time to cook lunch. Bye!
Tulala sa isang Tabi
Friends…sobrang tagal ko ng hindi nagsusulat ng mga tula, at dahil lang yan sa isang grupo ng tao na nagparamdam sa akin na ako’y isang walang kakwenta-kwentang manunulat. Fact is, tama sila, wala talaga akong kwentang manunulat, dahil hindi ako manunulat, ako’y isang batang mahilig magsulat at mangarap. Fact is, walang nakakaalam kung ano at sino ang mga tunay na henyo, para sa akin, kung tama ang nararamdaman mo at ang ginagawa mo ay nakakapagpaligaya sayo, hindi mo kailangan ng sobrang mga complicated na salita, kailangan mo lang maging totoo, at yun na yun. Kaya ito lang ang masasabi ko sa mga taong nang-alipusta ng mga sinulat kong tula: Ewan ko sa inyo, di tayo bati, beeeeelat!
Kaya sa mga kaibigan kong tunay, eto ang isa sa mga tulang naisulat ko ng hukayin ko ang nasa kaloob-looban ng puso ko…achuchuchuchu…
Spirits of the Heart
How soon will a heart forget
a memory alive with breath,
with soul and with heart
and every bit as human?
How long will a song live
As long as the mind can perceive?
Or the ears can hear
and the body can bear?
How true will the mind remember
if time erased ‘forever’
and there was only ‘never’
will ‘I Love You’ even matter?
How far will one word go?
Or a girl can do?
For a second, for a minute
for one chance to see you?
How strong can a feeling hold
if the heart tires
and the soul runs cold?
How quick will the ice thaw
if by chance the fire touches the snow?
How can I dare to cease
loving the only love I know?
My life may never know peace;
I may never feel bliss,
but you are my heart, and soul;
my fire, my song.
-karen 10-05-2006
Sa mga makakabasang tunay na kaibigan, alam nyo na kung para kanino ito, sa mga hindi nakakaalam…sus, napakadaling hulaan, tumingin lang sa kalangitan at nandoon lumilipad ang kasagutan. hehehe
Uncategorized | Comments (5)