Whining Chronicles II (Or Losing time to a productive activity having no product produced at all part II)

While I may not be the only one who's supporting our large family (numbering close to 10 persons), it pains my neophyte pocket especially for someone like me whose miser-to-a-fault character always sublimes wherever and whenever money's involved. There are currently four of us working our asses off for the household: my mother who of course had been an employee all these years; my father who's currently overseas and our spark of hope of being able to pile up some money to get that dream house rolling after almost 20 years of being on hiatus; my brother, who's currently a call center agent and has a nick of spending his hard earned money with ease just like swallowing a piece of mini "Kutsinta" followed by a hot cup of cocoa; and of course me, who's currently stuck and getting all moldy and dusty being a helpdesk analyst under the regime of call center companies and their Filipino cohorts.

It may be a wonder to everyone of you out there on how four people working for 8-10 people and still here I am whining in this column. Come to think of it, I am wondering actually on why is it hurting my pockets a lot. Here I am, elated at the fact that tomorrow is pay day but at the same time, I'm depressed since more than half of that goes to bulging bills and mountains of groceries. There's this other half of the pay you say? We will, of course, take into consideration your transporation allotment, your sudden caprices for some quick snack at the office and that book that you have been waiting for three months time and finally (FINALLY!) it arrived and is ready for pickup.

Before anything else, I would like to say first that my salary is not that big. Considering I am a hepdesk analyst, it doesn't really come in packages--helpdesk analyst and near 30K wages. I am just one of those poor blokes who would have wanted a better stand in the company but since the company would rather outsource a hiring agency than hire us directly (which would more or less, yield the same budget tally for them) I am currently whining now.

So why go through all of that outsourcing and stuff? I don't know. All I know is that they'd see me prancing out of their doors after a few more escapades and brawls with an American ass-kissing house fly who pretends to be my boss. It's so not worth the pay.

Pay is not good. Boss is being an asshole. Not my ideal niche. What's the plan?

Of course! Another job hunting!


There are several benefits on landing on the job that I wanted to pursue. One would be: I would at least be able to practice my profession of choice, though to a minimal extent (but hey it's a start). Next: I would be able to rake in money for that very elusive house that's been sleeping at the back of the minds of our parents (and now it sits on top of my head with flashing neon green, orange and pink lights; and they're running mind you). Thirdly: I would be able to at least save money (after taking out the neon lights first) finally for my schooling again.

What job is that?


Teaching English.


There's this new trend that, I believe is an off shoot of the call center indsutry--teaching English to Koreans, Japanese and Chinese. If you have a very good American accent, stemmed from being a call center agent, you'll definitely get the job.

So I applied, but only as a part timer. This could at least add to my current wage and the pay is good I believe just for working 4 hours a day. Add that to my current working hours and that's a total of 13 hours. Half a day out of the house but earning almost double my current salary is not a bad deal. In fact, it's really one good deal.

First company to apply to: EduConnect (or something like that)

result: "We're not hiring as of the moment."
reaction: Then why the hell post it in Jobstreet bitch?!


Second company to apply to: English Channel (this time I'm sure of the name.)

result: Still pending after almost two months of following up. They would say that I was up for an oral interview by next week but three weeks has passed since that day and I am still waiting for that schedule. This is the first time that I have experienced the maximum effect of the "Filipino Time" at its best.

reaction: clueless


Third Company to apply to: Duzon (or something that goes like that)

result: Aching muscles; knowledge of the long forgotten stations of the almost non-existent Philippine National Railway; cumulative dark bags under the eyes which are thankfully subsiding gradually at present; first hand information about how to go around the Filinvest area via Festival Mall; removal of some dentures due to too much teeth grinding caused by stupid fellow applicants who boasts on their stupid American-accented talks when they could have talked with each other using their native tongue but decided to go against it for reasons I am not able to discern until now; discovery of the dread that a four-city distance work might present and; a contract signing.

reaction: *raises white flag*

Why raise a white flag when the opportunity is presenting itself?

Why not?


First things first. I need another job but I need to be alive in order to do that job. Three hours of travel time from my place to that part time job entails me to give up more than three hours of sleep everyday!

So? You say I can sleep on the way there? How can you if you need to change from one public transportation to the other after almost every 30 minutes? Then you have to walk for about 20 minutes or so to get to the other place where you'll get the bus to your destination. Who can sleep with all that? If I may add, the longest travel time of all those public vehicles would require you to stand up from when you boarded it until you alight it.



*sigh*

So now I'm back to square one. Back to square one and has no money in the bank.

Eh? Yeah no money! Salary day? 2 days ago? What salary? All I know is that when I came to my senses, there's a two week supply of groceries for everyone in the fridge and the threatening bills were gone from underneath that plastic apple magnet stuck in front of the fridge.

I wonder...how did that happen?

Whining Chronicles I (Cascade multiple amplifiers and let's see what you'll get!)

I never believed once in my life how thick headed I was until some few weeks ago when both my mother and I were talking about my little sister being hard to discipline and doing anything that would just please her in her own accord regardless of demarcations be it at school or at home. Then I looked back to the stories that they told us about my father being the rebellious type when he was a kid and I knew that genes were at work for all of us siblings--from father to my older brother, to me and finally to my sister whose sense of rationalism needs some fast sorting out.

During work, there were numerous times when my boss would always notice how I handled some issues (especially how I've handled priority issues). I have to admit that some of the issues have been mishandled to some extent but I was able to resolve everything. It's not that it was reported to me and I just left, went down to grab something in the convenience store, took it up to the pantry and ate to my heart's content. He knows that I had never left any priority issues lest I was not aware that it was supposed to be one or I called it to be of no particular high severity. This made me think, on why my boss would always nag and nag regarding things that go wrong at work and would almost always point the blame on me (even though I didn't do it). Then I remembered how our conversation about my sister went. My mother asked my sister on why, despite the fact that she was being scolded by our grandmother about not doing her assignments and not studying at school, is she still not studying. Simply she answered (according to my mother), "I just didn't want to do it."
There was definitely a hint of determined insubordination there. She was being scolded and she didn't like it. So what did she do to show defiance? Annoy my grandmother by following that circle of not studying and scolding.

Now whenever there was something that went wrong at work (viewing it subjectively from my boss's point of view), he would almost always notice me if he can't trace the trail of emails to the point of origin.
"Ano nangyari dito sa issue na to?" would be his tag line whenever he's asking me. If it's not my issue, I'd say it's not mine. But he'd still have a backup, mouth-shutting back up words carrying a tinge of finality in the conversation, "E nasa shift mo pa to nung naka-Open pa a? Ba't di ka nag-follow up?" One time I retorted to that and I learned that it was one of the Ten Commandments of the office: Never retort to your boss. "Dapat nag-follow up ka pa din, kaya nga tayo team. Hindi pwedeng iiwanan mo yung issue..." And what follows is a series of litanies that would make anyone praying the rosary catch their breath in exhaustion considering they are only kneeling.

"Ok fine! Whatever you want!"

But that's not what I did.

Perhaps this is how my sister felt at that time. Why would I give you the satisfaction that you want when you're not even listening to what I'm saying and would just point at me and bombard me with your one sided pieces of crap? You'd never get that from me. If I can't get even with you, I'll destroy you bit by bit.

So what did I do?

During weekends, I would go to sleep as soon as I get to work. Whenever there was a waiting call, I'd just let it ring there and would just go to sleep. When someone wants to file a trouble ticket (a document of a reported problem), I'd say that the ticketing system is down and we can't give out any tickets as of the moment. When someone reports something regarding a major issue, I would delay it for some hours. Yes just delay. A major issue is something which will make our clients almost millions of dollars if prolonged to some extent and if it would be traced back to me, I'd definitely lose my job. When he's there during weekdays, I would not include him in the emails for issues. Let him grope from where the issue started. Let him suffer for all I care. If he can grovel on the floor and crawl under my feet to apologize, I'd definitely laugh that signature sinister laugh that villains have at their disposal, adding a clean-my-shoes-with-your-tongue finisher.

But alas, amidst the efforts to have my silent rebellion be noticed, he never wavered in giving me my daily dose of pawnage. It seems like, after I lunge at him to attack, he just parries and does multiple ripostes for each of my unnoticed advances. Either that or he's just oblivious of what I am doing. Or what I'm doing doesn't attract too much attention. For so many reasons, I don't want to do considerable damage to the company (which I can freely do in so many ways that a normal employee can never imagine). Making it lose revenue is as simple as pressing the delete button, while masking my presence by using another poor bloke as an escape goat. If I want to start an all out war between me and the company, I could just do that. But as far as I can see, all of the little things that I am doing now will snowball eventually and when it hits a dead end, it would have destroyed everything in it's path due to its massive size and inertial force.

Perhaps the only difference between me and my sister is that I have gained some knowledge over the years and is thinking about my own welfare--about the future. My sister, for the moment is not able to decipher the meaning of studying properly for her future that she considers it meaningless and a waste of her time. I'm just one notch above her.

On another sense, perhaps she's one notch above me for not conniving a plot on how to destroy her self-crafted enemies.

Well, who knows. I even thought something like that when I was a kid.

Everybody's grabbing a piece of the topsoil, so hurry up while stock still last (at least on the same field)......

Stagnation of the thoughts and the wish to unclog some pipes within my mind allowed my tight budgeted schedule to purchase some time off and sit down to write something on this column. Not that it really is affordable but like in a three day sale where people are in a state of panicked-buying, it has been agreed by the council and league of consultants within my mind that it is now the time to invest and buy some limited stocks of time to be used for funding this humble page of nonsense and self-centeredness--while there are still stocks available.

It has been a while since I last wrote on this page (took about 4 months or so since the last one) and as usual, the cobwebs of the mind are still hanging and sticking to the walls of the membranes which maybe sapping every idea that may have developed (or at least still developing) through the four months interval. I figured that reading some books may keep the cobwebs from gathering--and I was right, though not entirely. It may not be in an alarming rate, but the webs and cobs would still accumulate. And four months isn't a short period of time especially for someone who doesn't have any proper education on English Writing. So here I am now, giving a very long introduction to let the flow of words circulate my system first, very much like a stretching routine for joggers and athletes. Blood needs to flow and so does words.

And in four months time that I wasn't able to grace the pages of this HTML and javascript concoction, what have I been doing?

Focusing on my job?

Nah! Focusing yes, but not on the current job, but on a career path.


How it came to that was thankfully to the lame ass job that I got in right now. If it hasn't been for the countless tickets that I created; if it wasn't for the endless cycle of resetting passwords for the very dumb users of the company's domain; if it wasn't for the side by side priority issues that I have handled (which was lovingly "praised" by none other than my egotistical, pompous, self-gratifying boss *sarcasm intended if it wasn't obvious enough*); if it wasn't for my dominatrix of a boss (mind you he's a guy), I would never have clicked on that small blue "E" icon on the desktop and typed the word "teaching jobs" on the net to reveal a whole new hope for people like me who has swayed away from the straight path and ended up in circles.

Let me relate something:

There was a boy, lost on a dry and dusty road. At first he wasn't at all that lost since the road was just a straight path from where he can see it. For some time, he trod on the road and on some occasion, would shelter on some nearby trees when the need rises. After a while, he stumbled upon a fork on the road. One was going left, the other one going right. He saw at the right path, numerous people prancing around and happily whistling as they walk along. He examined the left side and he saw a dark road though no hint of fear embraced him. Enticed by the gaiety of the right path, he trudged towards that way and engaged along with the prancing. As he pranced, he glanced to his left and right and saw that most people were moving along and were now wearing a different kind of face. He looked up and about and saw some object on the road. He saw a face smiling brilliantly with red cheeks and white teeth. It has been discarded. Fearing it might happen to him also, he urged himself to go back, but he was clueless on how to get back being busy with the prancing and whistling while walking along the road. So, instead of going back, he moved forward. As he continue on, evidence of any happiness was nowhere to be seen on the latter part of the road. Near a clearing, beside the road he tripped on large rocks, bruising his knees and feet. As he bent down to examine his knee, he wasn't aware that another prancing man was passing along and bumped onto him, sending him rolling down the clearing and straight to a small lake. The prancing man carried on and paid no attention to the boy as he whistled gaily, swaying his arms in full length. Meanwhile the boy clambered to his feet and went on the bank to try to dry himself. He remembered his injury and immediately went to the water to wash it. As he bent down, he saw a reflection of a tired man in front of him. He reached out to him on the water and it seemed to him that the tired man was reaching out to him also.
He gasped! He hurried out of the water and went on to the road again. He shuddered every now and then but would immediately put up a stern face and increase the pace of his strides. He moved forward taking a right turn at every fork that he see. After a long while, he reached the familiar fork where he had made his big decision. Right in the middle of the fork, there was this dilapidated sign that was barely readable because of the dust. He tried reading what was written on the sign but it seems that hope was gone for the wooden sign. He dropped his body on the ground and let his back rest on the pole of the sign and heaved out a very long sigh. All of a sudden, he felt a coldness on his face. He felt it with his palm. His eye widened and looked immediately at his soiled hands. No doubt--a trace of dark brownish color confirmed what he thought. He raised his palms in the air and soon after, droplets of rain poured down and washed the soil that clung to his wearied body. The boy stood up and drank the rain with his whole essence and pranced around the wooden sign. After the rain, the sun's rays caressed the boy's nape and bathed him with a light that seems to signify his rebirth. He turned about to get ready to tread the left path when he saw the wooden sign. The dust being washed, revealed the words beneath it.

Right for prancers
Left for non-prancers

The boy smiled at the sign and with a last effort as if to thank the wooden board, he polished it with his sleeves before setting off. On the road, he saw a clear puddle made by the rain. He looked into it and saw the man that he saw on the lake but now, the weariness has been erased. He stared at the man for a while, reaching out to him as the man reached back. Their fingertips touched sending ripples--but not on the puddle.



There are many of us who would be in the same situation right now. Especially for those who are quite undecided for themselves, they let society do the decisions for them. There has always been an unspoken truth: If everybody's doing it, then it must be the right thing. While it is an exaggeration to say "everybody", you can surmise that once most of the people are doing it, it might be the right thing for each and everyone. If someone prances along while wearing a tank top and laced panties on the street while screeching Wannabe by Spice Girls and then everybody soon imitates that jerk, it doesn't mean that you'll have to be in it also. It's not my position to dictate to you if you want to do that but in a subjective way of speaking (that is, my opinion matters here), you wouldn't catch me doing that, covert or overt. I'd say, take the left path. If there are any other paths there that might lead to your proper destination, then by all means, take those. Do not choose a road has been leveled enough by the feet of millions of people that the erosion is making it's way to the subsoil. Remember, the topsoil is where the nutrients for plants are most found. If you're planning to plant a tree of success, subsoil, as it is mostly sand, can't hold your plant much more your tree. It'd be stunted due to lack of nutrients and be easily torn away from it's root.

This is not a circus but we have a wolf who wears an underwear, breathes fire, and plays the Russian Poker

I always get mixed emotions whenever I observe a person trying to impress others by implying their greatness and engraving them on a stone, seal it with a magical ward and parade it on the street while waving to catch some attention (okay i went overboard there but you get what I mean). The heterogeneous feeling makes it more difficult on how to deal with people like these especially if the confidence that they have supersedes those of the gods of the old times, while unconsciously, or rather oblivious of the fact, that they are making a fool out of themselves. While I don't usually encounter those people head on, it doesn't mean that they are tolerable. Never wander inside my mind while these people are in the premises, else, you'd die of the curses brought to reality by my strong imagination in my imaginary world.

There was a line that was mentioned in a game familiar to most of us gamers but easily forgotten. I don't blame those who chose to set that memory aside since it was dubbed as one of the worst Final Fantasy ever (by most of the fans, though it can be brought into argument, but I won't be participating in any of those...please!). The game--none other than Final Fantasy IX.
Sure it has got it's ups and downs. But it's not the game that we are focusing at here for the moment. It is a line that Zidane mentioned in one of his flashback with Amarant (non-FF fans, forgive me, but you'll soon get it in a while). Zidane said to a, then, arrogant and hot-blooded Amarant, "A sly eagle hides it's claws."

The quote explains itself but allow me to elaborate more.

There was this wolf who happened to drink a potion left by an elder dragon. This potion, without him knowing, gave him the ability to breath fire like dragons do. After wandering about, he saw a pack of wolves, who shunned all other wolves trying to get in the pack or even those who are just trying to pass by. The lone wolf, realizing it too late, was drawn into a fight with the leader of the pack after trying to pass by. The leader howled, signaling the start of the duel. The lone wolf, seeing his disadvantage, cowered in fear. The whole pack laughed and sneered at his pathetic state. In an effort to redeem some of his pride, the lone wolf tried a howl, but instead a squeak came out. This made the whole pack laugh more and the leader who was waiting for his opponent, was rolling on the ground, jesting and mocking on the lone wolf, making the whole pack laugh harder. Belittled by this, the lone wolf gathered all his courage, took a deep breath and howled towards the sky. The dark night glowed beautifully as a pillar of fire ate the darkness away and illuminated the moon with crimson brilliance. The wolf pack seeing this stopped laughing as fear grew inside them. The leader stood up, with tail behind his legs, trying to step back and run away from the fight. But it was too late. Before he even moved, a hot stream of fire engulfed him and soon, he was consumed by the fire. The lone wolf triumphantly howled once more. The pack mimicked this howl as a sign of recognition of their new leader. Thus, the lone wolf became the new pack leader. Sometime later, the lone wolf, along with the pack, met a young lone wolf passing by. As a rule, this lone wolf should be challenged by the leader. So, as the new leader, the lone wolf stepped up and howled once more to the moon. Again, a pillar of bright fire filled the night. The young lone wolf stepped back and ran towards the stretch of the prairie. The new leader ran after the young lone wolf breathing fire. But the young lone wolf dodged skillfully at every attack. Soon, they were inside the forest. The leader furiously chased the lone wolf through the thickets and trees and bushes and shrubs but the darkness of the forest made it more difficult to see. At last he came into a small cliff with a clearing just below in which, on the other side, on another small cliff, stood the lone wolf, waiting for him. The lone wolf growled and at the leader, beckoning him to fight against him. The leader gave one more mighty howl and started towards the lone wolf. As he leaped downwards, instead of touching solid ground, he splashed liquid all over the place. The leader struggled to get out of the murky waters and swam towards soil. He had barely got out of the waters when a bite came on his shoulder. He looked at the attacker, and no doubt it was the lone wolf. He growled then opened his mouth to breath fire, but no fire came out. He tried again and again yet nothing happened. The lone wolf attacked him mercilessly, and by the time he stopped, blood dyed the soil. As life faded away from the leader, he saw a figure of the old leader whom he defeated. He tried to breath one last stream of fire towards the old leader yet none still came. The old leader just smirked at him as it evanesced with the next howling of the wolf.

We've seen so many things like this in the past, either fictional or in real life. Just like in a game of Russian Poker--never reveal that two of diamonds unless you have pairs, trios or full houses. Yes you can win by singles if you play it right, but knowing what your trump card is by an opponent will get you into trouble rather than giving the opponent a reason to fear you. And nobody fear the two of diamonds alone.



I remember this old pun text message:

What's the similarity of an underwear and knowledge?
You hide it until you're going to use it.


Perhaps people who flaunt their knowledge up and about like a prancing idiot wears their underwear outside their pants.
Sounds about right.

You know how they try to wrestle those beetles with gum?....hey, why are you sticking that taser there?

It has been a while since I have posted here but I was trying to collect all of my thoughts, ball it into one great idea and then slam it in on this page like a rolling down a bowling ball knocking all the pins down. Soon you'll see that that great ball of ideas is nothing but the loud representation of the author with a column named Zero Level Omniscience.


I remembered when I was in grade school, there was always a man in outside the campus who would bring every whatchamacallit things and sell them to kids for an unreasonable price. Gullibility seems to be inherent to kids without the aid of their parents. While the latter would appear immune to sales talk and coercion that only works on kids, gullibility visits them every now and then when they hear squalls and cries from the main arbiter that ties them and the whatchamacallit vendor.

In more ways that one, I have seen the angel of salesmanship whenever I frequent the gates of our campus back in the years of shorts-for-uniforms, only to find out later after staying in school for a few more years, that angels coming down from heaven, that are neither Gabriel, Michael and Raphael must be fallen angels--and I have fallen into their trap. *sigh*

Moving on, or in this case going back to those years, upon getting a message from the (then) angel of salesmanship, I have decided to buy this device that stings your finger with a sudden jolt of electricity when you press the button. It was worth Php 2.00 but hey, I was a student back then and it wasn't those times where "baon" would translate to money.
Anyway, hard earned money (meaning money that was raised from constantly looking down while walking) allowed me to satisfy myself with this piece of junk. But hey, a kid's got to love what he bought with his sweat and blood(?)!

You know, the funny thing with this toy is that at first when you know what it does, you feel like not experiencing it first hand, but once you test it, you feel like you don't want to end it. You just want to keep on pressing that button, feeling that sensation that brings euphoria, psychological in manner (whatever the vehicle is). Kind of like when you play with beetles. At first, you gross out when it's spiky legs comes in contact with you but when you get the hang of it, you don't want to let go of it till it dies. But then it still dies, and that stupid button-driven-small-taser-device gets dull and the jolt becomes no more than a prick. At any rate, the discomfort brought by these two ends--but in two different ways.

There are many ways for a beetle to die.

• Don't feed it
• Give it to the birds
• Pretend it's a Walking Stick (the insect)
• Mother makes a stew out of it
• The Natural Death

I could go on with the list forever, but it only separates the ways into two categories: natural and induced.
For an induced death, refer to the first four on the list. These are sure ways of removing that awkward feeling that you get from those horrible spiky legs.
Natural death comes to beetles when the owner decided to endure the awkward feeling. But eventually he becomes liberated from that.

Now, the mini-taser is an object that could be destroyed in a few ways:

• Place it on the train tracks
• Feed it the dog
• Pound it with a hammer
• Press and press the button till friction bears fruition and μ becomes negligible
• Press and press till the body becomes accustomed to the damn jolt

There are lots of awkward situations that we encounter. Majority of these awkward encounters entails us to distantly escape or hastily end it. It maybe in the form of a slow and grueling escape or have your Mom do it for you in the kitchen. Nevertheless, you would still try to kill the beetle.

A minority shares the same fate as the mini-taser in the sense that we try to cope up with the awkward jolt and press the button continuously till μ becomes so small that we don't even feel anything anymore. We know, in our minds that the awkward feeling is there but, as we keep on pressing the button, we acknowledge the fact that we can't get away from that feeling and as we perpetually press on the damned button, oblivious of blisters and callouses, we are fully geared to face it--helmets on.



So let me go on ahead and roll the ball down the alley. It'd probably be too small to even down one pin.

*Aaaargh!* Gutter!!

Losing time to a productive activity having no product produced at all. Maybe there was but it's way below acceptance level

Being unemployed is finally taking it's toll on me as the boredom chokes the breath out of my passing youth. But it seems that anxiety and agitation of the corporate world has its roots firm on the ground nourishing that boredom more till flowers of the same specie bloomed at an alarming rate casting an unknown spell that keeps my ass stuck on the chair and writing this entry. It's not that this was the only thing that I've done for the past week. Of course as my situation states, I am unemployed and I need employment. So what's a normal bored guy going to do?

Job hunting!

My cellular phone had been busy for quite some time last week, to my annoyance (and now I'm missing that), due to a pleasant fact that almost all of the companies that I have passed my application to has called me and invited me for an interview. So the past week had been a week of riding LRT's, passing resumes and raising a pretentious appearance to a level I have never before achieved. In addition to that, last week gave me a chance to visit MegaMall and experience wearing a pair of shoes that could easily make you curse its existence and wish you could trade feet with another person even for just a brief moment.

It wasn't at all a pleasant week. I had a chance to show my love and loyalty for LRT Line 2 after witnessing and eventually experiencing LRT Line 1 during 7 AM to 9 AM on weekdays. Not that I'm saying this is the first time that I was able to ride LRT's. I used to ride LRT Line 1 going to Makati to go to my previous work but it was around 12 NN to 2 PM. Who would have thought that a few hours difference would sway my once loyal patronage of LRT Line 1 to LRT Line 2?

It was the first time in months that I was able to go to Makati again via Buendia route and I was surprised that the usual sight that I saw when I came down from the station wasn't there. I was quite sure that there was something there that I was perfectly aware of a few months back but now, it wasn't there. And all the more weird is that, as I am writing this entry, the image of that site (whatever it is) has entirely slipped my mind. I don't know if I'll be able to recall that. I had no pictures of it. I doubt I'd be meeting anyone who had a picture of that place. Who knows, maybe I'll even forget how the station looks like when it becomes too old and will have been demolished.

Yep! I haven't been to Makati for quite some time and it showed when I was trying to find this Salcedo Tower. I was to go to H.V. dela Costa then go to the 10th floor of Salcedo Tower to get to my first destination. Unfortunately, either due to my absence from Makati for a time or due to my genuine ignorance of other places in Makati besides my previous workplace, I alighted about a kilometer from where I was suppose to go to. I asked around and eventually, I landed on Salcedo tower 20 minutes after my appointed interview. But I wasn't worried. Interviews like those usually take about an hour or so before starting. So complacent as I was back then, I rode the elevator and on the 10th floor, I found the company with ease. I would thank the Filipino culture for inventing the "Filipino Time"; I had time to pass my resume, fill up some forms meet some boring acquaintances and cool myself for sweat was trickling non-stop from all over my body (that's right! from all over my body) having walked about a kilometer in the morning heat while enduring a pair of shoes that seemed to tighten with each step that you take.
You know how they always tell you at school that at work, it is imperative to always come on time. Well, this was work and I can't see how imperative coming on time was. I just thought back then that the company was quite drunk with the influence of the Filipino's "Filipino Time" that they decided to extend it to show how they love our culture.
The convenience eventually became a harassment. Yeah! A harassment! All the sweat in me seemed to have hibernated due to overexposure to low temperature and my Inbox filled with messages have been opened, browsed and closed for more than four times before they gave the exam. After the exam comes the interview. I felt blood surging through my head as I have waited for more than an hour and a half and I was interviewed by an HR representative who seemed to know that he has articulation problems in English but went on talking like that till he gave up or the words gave up on him and finally took out his cheat sheet to ask me questions. Talk about lame!
The harassment wasn't over. He told me to wait for the result. But no! I wasn't about to fall for that trap anymore. I'm not a fanatic when it comes to "Filipino Time" culture and I had another appointment that afternoon. So when I was in the lobby, I waited for my chance to ask for the result of the interview. I'm not about to wait there for their convenience. I had my share of convenience and I'm not stupid enough to get drunk.
I was right! They already had my result but they were just impending to give me the result for reasons beyond me. They scheduled my second interview for tomorrow. Fine! Tomorrow then. I've learned my lesson so you'll see.

The afternoon passed without much turmoil. I was lost also in Ortigas trying to find that Philippine Stock Exchange Building. That day, I learned that asking for directions can save you the agony of losing 1000 calories (not that I'm one to complain about losing some but still...) and drying your throat on an ordinary day of December. As an added bonus, I had discovered, after years of dormancy, that the steel from the steel toe shoes that I was wearing were, in more ways than I can say, clearly killing my feet. At least I arrived, with both of my feet in tact and parched throat, I've finished the exam with colors, I think, though certainly not flying.

"Come back on Thursday at 4 PM for your interview."

Ok. Very busy times.

The next day, with the lesson learned from the previous interviewer that summoned me for that day, I woke up at a later time that would certainly make me late for my appointment. True to my prediction of time, I arrived 40 minutes later than the agreed time. I was quite worried that they may have cancelled my appointment by me being late but I learned eventually that the company was currently experiencing a hang over from yesterday's drunkeness of the "Filipino Time" culture. I just sighed and contemplated on how to magically enlarge my shoe as it is beginning to place cumulative painful sensations on all parts of my foot. Sadly, imagination and reality has a thick wall between them. Besides, I don't have any magic powers in me.
When I heard the line "Can you come back tomorrow?" I was already cursing the woman who interviewed me and, if for a moment, the wall between the reality and imagination had been broken, Makati would have been turned to dust and the center of explosion would have been that company. At least in my mind, her head exploded. I had to repeat that a few times for me to forget the fate my feet fought with all the honor that a foot can uphold. At least I smiled at the thought. It ain't going to happen in reality, might as well amplify the effect in my mind. ~Aaaah. That's better.~

That same day, I was to accompany my friend to apply as a Technical Support Representative in a certain call center company whose name I won't disclose. So there I was, at home, trying to relish the fleeting minutes that my feet were off that guillotine of a shoe. Eventually, the minutes dissolved and it was time for me to go again, job hunting.
I worked in a call center before and the experience was quite the opposite of what I've been hearing from other colleagues who were still there. And now, I'm applying on a whim for a job that made me quit. It's really ironic. All the more ironic was, I was offered a job. I did bad with the interview to the point that my interviewer was accussing me of names which led me to wonder, how in the world was he able to read context clues out of the words that I said to make him say that I'm "Pasaway"? I only answered his questions like: Why did I take up my course; why did I apply with them; why did I resign from my previous job? I stroke my shoulder length newly straightened hair and a thought struck me. And i remembered, I haven't shaved for three days. Ooooh~ That's why.
How much of a prejudicing person was my interviewer? Just by looking at me, he concluded that. With his sense of self-majesty around him just because he was wearing that long sleeved 70's cut shirt, tucked in and speaking in English (though no palpable American accent), and that gayish attitude brought by working in a call center, I'm not about to take that from him at any other occassion than this. I could have had fought back, since I really didn't like to get into the company. I did though in a more discreet manner. He should thank my parents for raising me right. Or esle, he would've had seen what true prejudice was.

One more thing that happened thay day was a question in the interview that that faggot threw at me. If I were given two words in front of me, what would I choose: Instinct or Instructions?
How would my readers answer?
Me? I answered instinct. Why? Besides my nature of being independent and opinionated, I believe in that bent saying that goes: "You can only believe in yourself." Instinct is always there in you. Instructions to yourself comes after instinct. Instructions coming from others are assessed after assessing your instinct. But no! Our all mighty gay judge would opt me to choose instructions saying: Even if you don't know what you're doing, you'd opt to choose instinct? Inside me, all the more that' I'll rely on my instinct. Heck your scenario lacks information! How would I know if there are people around me whom I can ask? But sensing that he wants me to answer the other one, I contrived an answer that would support my sudden change of choice but subtly support my previous one. Now I know how the contestants feel in "Laban o Bawi" whenever they are being urged to change their decision.
Damn you faggot! I still haven't forgotten you, you arrogant, 70's shirt wearing, impecable feeling judgemental person! Right back at you! Of course that's an attack from behind. Oh well...


Nothing noteworthy after everything that happened in the past two days of job hunting, except that the "Filipino Time" loving company offered me a job after collectively having me wait for 10 hours in four different occassions. Two of those four occassions, either I was the only one they had to cater or there were two or three of us. A disaster of a company. I'd been handed with the contract for me to read and to sign. But I declined after reading what was written on it. There really wasn't need for time to read it since it was a one page contract. I have written business letters longer than these ~sheesh~

After that adventurous week, I'm back to being a bored unemployed young man. Aside from the blisters that I got from the pair of shoes that I just realized I may have outgrown, I was able to get some food for thought though in a satirical way of presentation. Plus, I had material to write after a week of being on hiatus on this page.

Come to think of it, being unemployed may prove to be entertaining at times. But then again, I really need to get a job or else my back pay's not going to last me this month.

~sigh~

In case you're wondering what happened to my interview in Ortigas, I failed it.

~sigh~ *again*





Couch potato till the end of the year.

They say my one vote can sway the results of the election. That's why I'm not voting.

(Disclaimer: Mulan doesn't belong to the author. Disney owns Mulan and all other characters in the movie Mulan that are used in this entry.)

It never failed to overwhelm me with a chilling sensation whenever I watch that scene from the movie Mulan wherein the emperor bowed to a lowly woman and in turn, the whole country mimicked the gesture in honor of her heroism. I would always go "Shit!" because for me, to be bowed to and be revered by the whole country like that, lowering themselves in respect to you, and only you, is somewhat a lifetime honor and glory that you can carry, unless of course you tarnish it. As they say, people do great deeds to be recognized but a mere misdemeanor can cause you eternal shame.

Pointing away from what the movie Mulan speaks of (at least that particular scenario), where a small woman does something big and the whole country was saved from being pummeled by tyrants to domination, I mean, it's all big, her doings and the effect, which is all good. But as I have mentioned, let's try to point away from that.

Allow me to explain the core of this entry by telling you a story quite familiar to all of us. I believe most of us are familiar with the story of the father and his son, operating the bridge for the train to pass by, aren't we? Well, just in case, do permit me.


A father and a son were working on a bridge where the local train comes and goes everyday and at the same time, the river where the train crosses is also a channel for small boats and ferries to sail on. They would lower the bridge whenever a train passes by and raise it should a ferry requests passage but not when a train is near and will be crossing the bridge for that would mean that the train would stop and it can't just stop in the middle of nowhere. It should always stop in a station. At least for the boats and ferries, stopping would be no problem. Priority of crossing is always given to the train.
The day was normal; lower the bridge and raise it when the situation suits it. The son was out in the bridge playing along the tracks of the train. The father, was inside sipping coffee while watching his son from the control room of the bridge. Not a moment too soon, a train is fast approaching. The father waved at his son to get out of the bridge and let the train pass by. Sure enough, the son did as he was told and marched towards the end of the bridge. The father looked at the other side of the window to see what train was bounded their direction. It took some time for him to recognize that it was a luxury train cruising along and running towards the other side of the country. He placed his lips on the rim of his cup and suddenly dropped it as he looked at the other window. He saw his son, on all fours on the tracks desperately trying to get a hooked leg out of the rumbling steel. The train's whistle was never louder than it had ever been for the father and the rumbling of the tracks was never tremorous as it had been today. He looked at his son struggling helplessly as he cried calling on to him for help. The father looked at the large red button in front of him and with a trembling hand, placed a finger on it without the pressure to press it.
The father was defeaned by the roaring whistle even though the train was kilometers away from the bridge. He slumped on the floor, silently wailing, not minding the coffee and the broken cup.


Now here's another version of Mulan but the main difference is, there was no bowing, no honor, no glory, no saving China, no nothing. He didn't gain anything but lost everything in this feat, and for what? For morality? Wow! This father should be the modern Abraham, willing to sacrifice his son for the good. I'd really like to take the time to bow and clap my hands to him but sorry, this isn't the point I'm trying to build up.

So what's the point?

The point is, it was never known.

Let's try to put it this way.

A young man, who literally had everything in his life, wanted to commit suicide. Why? His fiance left him for another man, his career was being jeopardized by his best friend and his parents dumped him for being a no good child of theirs. A really sad young man. On a train trip from his town to a nearby country, he decided to commit suicide. He knew that if he jumped from the running train to the bridge and into the raging rivers, no one would know that he died. So he got out of the rear car and climbed the ladder on to the roof of the train. He walked the expanse of the metallic vehicle and stopped on the first car, right above the driver's seat. The bridge was nearing so he closed his eyes and readied to jump. All of a sudden he heard a crying boy. He opened his eyes to see a boy on the tracks who was looking at him with hopeless eyes. A moment later, the boy vanished from his eyes and the train rocked quite violently making him loose his balance and fall to the edge of the first car. He managed to cling on to a protruding handle, who knows why it was placed there, and swayed in the air as the train raced on. The driver of the train curious about the violent disturbance on the train went to open the window and check out what was it that they hit. To his surprise, he saw a dangling man clinging for his dear life on the side of the train. He reached out his hand to the young man and pulled him inside the car. The young man was shocked beyond imagination. He stood there shivering while the driver and the conductors called for the companions of the young man. His parents rushed to him in the first car and hugged him tightly, thanking the driver and the conductors profusely. On his destination on the other side of the country, he received a call from his fiance and asked him if he'd still be willing to be married to her. He agreed without thinking. After a while, a call from his company came in saying he was promoted since his best friend recommended him for the position. He agreed also without thinking. He placed the receiver down and went to the window sill. He heard the train from a distance and realized now, why he had agreed without thinking.

A telenovela story not worth mentioning but in this way, I can state my point clearly.

We all have decisions that we make in our lives. Some are really big and some are small. Sometimes, results from these decisions aren't proportional to what effort we gave. We may have done something colossal but the effect isn't noteworthy while others are minute but monumental in effect. I'd like to emphasize on the small things with great effects.

We may never know how our lives turned out to be and we can't entirely blame it on the palpable decisions that we make or the apparent circumstances that we encounter. Some insignificant decisions that we make like loitering around or taking out the trash or jerking off in the middle of nowhere may look like it doesn't have any impecable or detrimental effects but it may bring something, larger than what we have bargained for. Not now maybe, but it builds up like a small balloon being pumped slowly with air. We'll never know when the balloon'll burst in our faces or sustain it's wondrous shape.

Of course I'm not saying that every little thing that we do has to be reciprocated with a turning point event. We can't be expecting that everytime we piss, we save the universe now do we?

In the story of the young man, I'd like to emphasize how a small thing for everyone, can mean a big thing for you. The whole train never did realize that a boy was sacrificed in order for all of them to be saved and that a weeping father was in the tower suffering from pain unimaginable. While a big decision was made by the father, it's effect on the passengers was just a violent rocking of the cars. But for the young man, that decision rekindled his life. The father could have followed his paternal instincts and raised the bridge, killing hundreds of people, putting into reality that suicidal attempt of the young man, but thought twice of the consequences of that small, instinctive decision. In the end, he chose a decision, paradoxical in effect between him and the passengers of the train.



Let's go back to the young man. Aside from keeping his life, he managed to reconcile with his parents, his fiance, his best friend and get a promotion. Had the boy not been there to be run over by the train, he would have jumped already and would have been mourned over instead of the boy.

The boy was just a passing image for the young man, like a wind that kissed his cheeks for a moment. That wind became the key to his life.

And don't forget that handle.

Boo-ing in a crowd of cheering fans will make you look stupid

Back when we were kids,we used to play this street sport called "Siyato" wherein you would hit a short stick with a longer one and then count the distance from where you hit the shorter stick to where it landed via the long stick. Before you can count your earnings, the opposing team will try to prevent you from hitting the stick by catching it or by kicking it back to you. As a kid back then, I was quite furious with how the older kids bully us smaller kids by challenging us and then we'd be creamed and floored since our strength never really matched theirs (I mean how can four year old kids match up with circumcised boys in terms of strength). So, furious as I was, I can't do anything except wait--wait for me to grow up that is and then I'll be able to land that stick halfway through the length of the street.

It really is funny remembering such trivial things, vowing something just because I got furious by being bullied over a street game. But the fun part is I was able to live out my childhood by playing as much as I can (to be able to get that record breaking half-street-length distance that I vowed to get). The sad part was, before being cloyed with the sweetness of childhood, I was never able to make that dream distance. Who's to blame? Not me definitely since we moved to a place a year after that where "Siyato" was impossible to play due to so many people passing by (my mom said we might hit them). Add the fact that all of my siyato-ing friends were then gone, gradually, I gave up playing siyato.

And of course, as the years has passed, many changes happened and of course new vows were created, fulfilled, forgotten and on hiatus. Those on hiatus entails a lot of preparation and years of toiling before reaching it. Just like that advertisment of Shell (I think) where this man dreams of getting a car for his short time goal then dreams of getting a BMW for his long time goal. I don't know if that's how exactly how the ad went but you know the drill: short term goals and long term goals.





How in the world does a game of sticks and stones that you hit and count on the ground have anything to do with BMW's and short term and long term goals?


Let me explain it this way:


At the foot of a mountain, three hikers were readying to climb. One was a pallid and thin man, another was an old artist, and the last one was a long time hiker. After the neccessary registrations and preparations, they started to climb the mountain. Along the way, the old artist started to pull out his empty sketchpad and drew things along the way, making the journey quite troublesome for the other two since they'd have to wait for him. The hiker didn't mind but the pallid man always complained at how this is taking them too much time to reach the top. But they couldn't stop the old man from drawing. About eight hours of hiking had passed but they were still halfway through the top. Evening came so they decided to set up camp. The old man, as he laid down his things drew again beside the campfire that the pallid man created. The pallid man snorted at the attitude of the old man, however he just let it slide and helped the hiker to set up their tent. After their dinner, the old man went back to his drawing while the other two went out to find some berries. When they came back, the old man was still drawing near the fire. The pallid man noticed that the fire was dying and thought that if the fire died out, maybe the old man would stop drawing. But the hiker ordered him to fetch more firewood while he attended to rekindling the camp fire. Reluctantly, the pallid man took off to get some more firewood. When he came back, the fire was crackling nicely but his two other companions were nowhere to be found. He noticed a shadow inside the tent and looked inside. He was shushed by the hiker and saw the old man sleeping quietly with his sketchbook wrapped around his arms. With that, they both turned in for the night.
When the pallid man woke up, he saw the bed of the old man empty and the flap of the tent open. He crawled outside and saw again the old man drawing. He noticed that the fire yesternight died out naturally and this old artist didn't even bother gathering the ash. So he gathered the ash by the side of a tree mumbling as he did it. Soon, the hiker woke up and suggested that they have breakfast first before continuing the climb. After breakfast, they continued on.
Near the top, no trails were available and steep climbs were needed. The hiker said to the pallid man to carry the old man while he prepares the rope near the peak to help them climb up. Of course the thin man was furious again but in the end, he conceded. He offered the old artist a piggy back but the hiker whispered to him to carry the old man in front of him. He protested against this profusely but the hiker said that he'll tie a rope around them to secure the old man while the two of them climb the rope he will prepare. Again, he conceded and carried the old man like a child. He checked the rope that was tied around them and waited for the hiker to drop the rope. As soon as the rope was dropped, the pallid man clung to it and pulled the two of them upwards. He was breathing heavily at the weight of two people. He'd like to complain but the one to complain was clinging onto him. With the help of the hiker, the three of them reached the top of the steep climb and was nearing the peak. In about half an hour or so, they reached the peak of the mountain. The hiker and the pallid man breathed the sweet air while the old man sat immediately on a flat stone and drew once more.
"Why'd you want to climb the mountain?" asked the pallid man to the hiker
The hiker looked at him. "Why'd you climb the mountain?" He threw the question back.
The pallid man took another dive into that fresh air, breathing it and filling his lungs with it. "Just to climb it. To see if I can do it with this body."
"Oho! So you think climbing will make you stronger?"
"Yeah! I suppose so." The pallid man turned around to the old artist to ask him why'd he climb the mountain. Although he was quite sure on what the answer was, he couldn't help but ask him. "Hey gramps!" He called out. But instead of looking at a drawing old man, he saw an artist embracing his works, lying on the swaying grass. He went up to the old man and saw that he was smiling.
"Hey gramps." he said while shaking the other. But the old man never replied. The grip on the sketchbook loosened and the sketchbook fell on the green grass. The pallid man took it and opened it to see what the old man had been drawing. To his surprise, the first page was full of scribbles. Not even a shape was distinguishable. The next page was very much the same but it was cleaner than the previous one. The third page had some improvement. He can now see the trees and the leaves. He turned and turned until he saw a page which has a drawing of the campfire. There he saw the fire nearly having a shape and life but nonetheless, not really good to sell. He turned and turned until the last page. There was a drawing of two men by the edge of the mountain looking beyond. He compared it to the one with the campfire and with the first page then he understood. He laid the old man on the grass and placed the sketchbook on the dead man's arms. He went back to the hiker.
"The old man didn't know how to draw, did he?" The hiker said.
"He's practicing while climbing." The pallid man pasued there. "I'll take the old man down to the foot of the mountain."
"You sure you can handle it?"
"Sure. I think I'm stronger now."







Just the other day, as I was sitting on a bus bounded home, I happened to chance hearing on the radio a song that has been written and sang by one of our batchmates. It wasn't just a song that was played on the radio. You know how DJ's asks listeners to vote for the song and it'll be on the top 10 or top 100 or top 4 list? Well, the song's not actually on the list yet but, I heard the DJ said, a few more votes and that song'll be in the charts.

Most of our batchmates hated this guy. Why? Because he's always making an appearance on every show or event that the college has. Not that he was invited but he volunteered (at least that's how the rumor goes). Anyway, there he was hopping from every event to another and I even heard that he had a regular gig in a bar whose name I didn't catch. At any rate, he was always performing, to the annoyance of my batchmates. At some point, I was quite annoyed also, because as spectator, I wouldn't want to hear him again after hearing him perform about two days ago. But that was how it came and went.

As I was sitting on that bus, I went over these thoughts and realized, he's already fulfiling his dream. I mean, he is the one closest than most of us to reaching that long term goal (whatever it is for each and everyone of us). There we were like the opposing team in the game "Siyato", trying to prevent that one man from reaching his goals by blocking him with insults but he never faltered like the old man. He didn't care if he annoyed so many pallid and thin men. He wanted to reach the peak of the mountain and he's almost there. He played too many siyatos that his hands and feet bled and drew on so many sketchbooks so he can continue with his ascent to the peak of the mountain. And I believe that he'd still play more sticks and draw more obscure abstracts.

But like the pallid man in the story, envy first consumed me but eventually, I learned something and metaphorically gained strength. If he can do it, then everyone else can.

(I'm not saying I like his music. I'm saying I respect him for his tenacity and audacity.)


I'd be playing that siyato once more and try to get that half-street-length distance for the record. Only this time, no more sticks and stones. Just a pen and paper.

Dark Chocolate looks yummy...

There was once a group of chocolates gathered in the cupboard. Different types of chocolates were in the group but the most dominating of all was the one with colorful wrapping. He would always tell the other chocolates: “I’m the most delicious of all since my wrapping is so colorful and so inviting to the eyes.” The other chocolates were just at awe with him. They would all be jealous whenever he told them that he would most satisfy the taste of anyone who would take a bite off him. “And why wouldn’t I be the most delicious, I am a combination of all kinds of chocolates present here”, he would always boast as he showed the others the captions written on his wrapping. The other chocolates would endlessly admire him. Then one day, the cupboard was opened. The chocolates knew that someone was bound to be picked but when they looked at the chocolate with the colorful wrapping containing all flavors imagined, they were all disheartened. Sure enough, the one with the colorful wrapping was picked immediately. The cupboard was closed. Soon enough it was opened again giving hope to the other chocolates. They were even more stunned to see that all of them were picked. One of the chocolates, as they were being carried away, saw something in the distance. It was colorful with a bit of dark brown object sticking out. He pushed the image aside as the ecstatic feeling overwhelmed them all. Meanwhile, the chocolate with the colorful wrapping found himself speechless. He was thrown in the garbage bin. He didn’t know why. He looked around. All he saw was garbage. Amidst the garbage was a piece of his wrapping. There he saw the reason on why was he thrown. Printed on his wrapper was: No milk, no sugar, no additional sweetener; 100% pure dark chocolate. The chocolate with the colorful wrapping said to himself: “I’m 100% pure chocolate! Why was I thrown?”

Sometimes, we overestimate ourselves in something that we believe we are good at. We see ourselves as one of the best (in a certain field). Oftentimes, when we feel like we are above everyone else, we tend to belittle those around us, not thinking that there maybe some other person who is better than us. Of course, there would always be a person better than anyone else in any aspect. It is just sad, that for some of us, it would take a hard slap on the face before we see the fact that we are not perfect and recognize our small position in the big society; that we cannot do everything; that we are not everything. The situation is more morose for those people who had been calloused of the countless reality-slaps that they cannot feel anything anymore. There are people who, like the dark chocolate in the story, would deny every truth that runs down his egotistical excellence and hide their calloused faces behind a thick façade of make-up. You wouldn’t know how to classify this kind of person: obstinate or obdurate.



(this was an excerpt from my column page printed in our college journal. I just had a feel to publish it here)

Let's shoot the Narrow minded person! "Jet Cannon plus Shot Bomber plus Shaider Cutter plus Rider Kick plus Bio Dagger plus..."

We fancied going to Greenhills just the other day so that my brother can realease some of the tension that's been building up in him for the past few weeks brought about by the volume of calls that he's been getting and not to mention, the irritation attached with each and every call he's had. So in all good intention, on a sunny day, we marched our way towards the road, and landed right where we planned to go--Greenhills.

I haven't been to Greenhills since it was last renovated. There's still the usual "tiangge" that occupied the first area of Virramall bustling with people. I remember the time when it was just a wide, spacious lobby that welcomed and wishing a fare-thee well to comers and goers, housing only that ever famous band of blind men. But now, instead of taking you only a minute to cross that lobby (or less if your walking is too fast), multiply that ten folds and you'd barely reach three quarters of it. Well, can't blame the capitalist mind.

Passing that area, we came by the usual pond there and the chapel and beyond that was the new Greenhills that I never imagined it to be. A few years back it was smelly and the floor was sticky due to various who-knows-what substances that found their way out of their container, either by their own accord or by the unintenional accord (bluntly: utter stupidity) of their holders, only to be stepped on by somebody who'd rake the floor with it bringing more filth than ever on the once prestigious floor. Now, the floor was white and shining; the walls were illuminating and enjoyable to the eyes; that sick odor from before was also gone (seeing that there were limited food stalls there). It was really a brand new Greenhills--far from how I recognize it.




Going back a few days in time, we chanced upon You Tube that Tagalog opening of Mask Man. If you can't remember that, allow me to jog your memory a little (for those born in 1988 and later, don't bother jogging. Even if your mind jogged like Forrest Gump for a whole year, I believe you'll never recall the following clip.)






Regardless if that made you remember or not, I'm still going to continue writing this entry.

So, a few days back we saw this clip and reminisced a lot of our childhood days. Then we started looking for Bioman, Shaider, Mask Rider Black and Machine Man (I've regrettably have to include Machine Man on the list since at the time that it was on the mainstream, I had an automated inkling to sentai programs such as these) on You Tube and we were not dissappointed. So much was our nostalgia of the youthful years, we even downloaded MP3's of these openings (and endings). And now we're nostalgic to a fault that I believe our love for the past, manisfesting today is eating the brains out of our neighbor through the constant bombardment of these songs played on a subwoofered computer speaker at full volume against a non-sound proofed wall that divides the two houses. Of course, listening to it at full volume isn't only caused by the sudden attack of the 80's baby syndrome. Some of the songs that we downloaded, especially, MaskMan and Bioman, were appreciated because of the music itself.

Listening to these songs brought another idea--to watch the episodes that weren't aired on TV back then. We all know that IBC 13 had a running joke to air the series then repeat it right from the start right when only a few more episodes were to go before the ending. So, in the all powerful You Tube, we began to search, but much to our disappointment, episodes of these series were scarce. Some only have endings while others may have a few but are cut short probably to shorten the upload time. In our dismay, my brother, in a spur of the moment, remembered there was a shop in Greenhills that sells these kind of series and he remembered particularly Mask Man.

That's how we got there in Greenhills that day. Aside from the strolling in our agenda, we were also to look for that shop and see what's in store in that...err...store.

We took the new detour towards Shopsville and landed there after being lost more than thrice. Shopsville didn't look that much different from what it used to be but a few renovations had me and my brother at a lost for a while. Turning a couple of lefts and some rights down some passages, we ended up on a staircase that my brother considered as his landmark towards that store who'll grant us a piece of our childhood back. We climbed it, went straight and voila! There it was! We saw a collection of various Sentai series, most of which were, Kamen Rider series. Inside we saw three men watching a Sentai program on DVD. I believe there was the owner of the store, a regular customer (regular since he was quite familiar with the owner) and his friend who can't read Chinese (as claimed by his friend). Looking at their physique and face, I'd say they're pretty much older than me (much, much older). So we stepped inside and looked around to see what was available. I must admit, I was quite surprised that the owner didn't ask me what I needed. Heck he didn't even bother to look at me when we came in. What a business man...Oh I see! They're so absorbed in that Sentai shit they don't care if they sell something or not. That's what I thought back then. Seeing that no one's willing to entertain us and also feeling a bit of shame in myself for seeing over enthusiastic, rider-kick-shouting adults, we left the store. After an hour or so, we found ourselves home playing the same music over and over.


It's all normal to feel nostalgic of your youth. Heck everybody does that! But I'm not about to act like a child just because I feel like a child again through watching men and women in colored suits knocking down mecha-clones and gigantic monsters. At the very least I can keep it to myself.





Now this just came in my cellular phone:

No matter how serious your life gets
No matter how much problems you face
There will always be people who you can be stupid with

Okay! This isn't the exact message. I deleted it as soon as I read it but all the more important is, it's quite the same (the message at least).

This message, after deleting it, made me realize why those older men acted in such a way. It made me think of how I act towards my friends, how I act towards acquaintances, how I act towards complete strangers. I understand them, but I can still feel the shame. *brrr*



So, in which situation would I be acting stupidly, stupidly enough for them to see me and laugh at me because we all know that we're there to laugh at each other's silliness?







I know I'll be able to do this with the same stupid people. Utter stupidity? Childlike retard? Nah!

Just for fun.

Never underestimate the power of spoiled fish! It defied reality for a long long time

There has got to be something in a local fishball that sets it aside from all other marketable products in the country. Aside from the fact that it's dirty, full of germs, tasty, versatile, it has one characteristic that made it excel on top of the food industry (and on top of all industries who produces for that matter)--it's unchanging price.

If there is a world record that could be set for "World's longest running same priced product" I would definitely have to vote for our local fishball. Why, in more than a decade, the local jeepney fare wen't up from Php 1.00 up to Php 7.50; in more than a decade, common rice rose up to Php 20.00 per kilo from the usual Php 5.00~7.00 per kilo; in more than a decade, the price of gasoline ballooned from what-not-price (hey! I don't care about oil and diesels back then. I was just a kid) up to Php 50.00 something per litre (I don't know but I kept hearing it inflated plus I don't own a car and I don't watch TV that much); in more than a decade, the price of pandesal came from 25 centavos a piece to Php 1.00~2.00 a piece; in more than a decade candies can be bought at 25 centavos a piece but nowadays, it's Php 1.00 or Php 2.00 per piece. In more than a decade every consumer product inflated except for one thing:

The legendary Local Fishball holds it's seat on the 50-cents-per-piece spot for years on. Of course you can't count those capitalists who invests on this wonderful "for-mass" commodity and then sells it at Php 1.00. No no no! The bases are still the sidewalk peddlers who toils all day long besides roads, bearing the heat of the sun and chilling in the evening wind. They are the ones who set the true price. Of course there was a time that it was 10 cents per piece, then went up to 25 cents per piece then eventually, as if some council has been formed and an alliance between the concerned fishball peddlers of the country had a meeting and agreed that 50 centavos was the correct price. Perhaps up until now, there had been no other meetings or maybe, the chairman of the council did not veto on any proposition to raise the price. Who knows? The world of fishballs is a mysterious one after all.



Anyway, in all honesty, I don't even know, how fishballs managed to retain its price. But now I'm starting to wonder, why is there no change in its price? It's like it defies the very nature of reality: All things change. The only thing permanent is change. Of course we all know that it'll be a matter of time for fishballs to raise it's price or maybe to lose it's hold on the mass market (...nah! quite impossible as of the moment), but seeing now that it's a record holder (at least in my book), don't we wish that it could just stay the same forever?

But all things change...


Change is a very tricky thing. I once was watching Samurai X on Studio 23 back then and got hooked on it and watched it every week. I happened to notice the opening song of the series and was quite annoyed at the voice of the Japanese girl singing. Her voice was so coming all over from her nose. So after a few weeks of watching, I eventually got to like the opening song and a few more weeks later, I was trying to sing with it (even though all that you can hear from me back then was nonsense mumbling). As soon as I got hooked on the song and was able to keep up, with the pace at least, a new opening shows up and I went : "~Ohhh!" That bummed me. Here I was all practiced and I was trying my best to keep up with it and then suddenly it changes.

How cruel change can be?

We can never be complacent in any situation that we are in as of the moment. We all know the rule. Expect some things to happen. Everyday life cannot rotate around you the same way over and over. There will definitely be some force that would disrupt this balance and in the end, a transformation occurs. One time we're all happy, the next day, you see yourself crying yourself to sleep. Or for more than twenty years of schooling, you finally get out of it, tired and sick of it only to see yourself burdened with more responsibility.

For better or for worse...it's all up to us on how to handle that force.

Homeostasis and transistasis.

Homeostasis means the ability of an organism to maintain its physiological processes when some external condition presents a threat of variation. Transistasis on the other hand is the opposite. An organism freely adapts and undergoes changes in its functionality in reference to circumstances outside.

This applies to our everyday life. Some of us are rigid to change saying: "I refuse!" with a very good conviction while others are flexible and malleable accepting changes and learning new things from it. While both are present in everyone, we should be aware that control of these two principles should be balanced in accordance to our limitations. Fight if the enemy is within your capability. Flee if you cannot go head to head with it.

Those who know when to fight and when not to fight is always victorious. ~an excerpt from the Art of War by Master Sun Tzu




I wonder how people would react if the time comes for fishballs to raise its price? Say for example if they bought a piece and paid Php 1.00, would they be expecting a change?

Sometimes, the more absurd your goal is, the more you want to get to it. I'm a fool and I say that with my chin up...towards the moon.

I always had the thought circling in my mind that dogs, whenever the moon is full, they howl to it. Any reason behind this is beyond my understanding back then and now since there wasn't much change regarding my physique as an evolving homo sapien that could be showing any signs of lycanthropy.

Anyway, it had been a cultural connotation for a howl of a dog (or a wolf) to be incorporated to a sign of bad omen particularly, a sign of death or the appearance of something unnatural. I remember those old folklore movies that involved these howlings, whenever I hear them on the television, I'd go "The monster's near! Run you guys!" Of course I was pertaining to the characters in the flick and now that I'm remembering it, I feel like an idiot and now I'm getting goosebumps. *brrr*


But now that I give myself a moment to muse about that, it wasn't probably something like that that dogs and wolves alike howl because they can sense an evil spirit lurking within the premises. I can't say I'm expert with dogs and their howls. It just so happened that something struck me with the way they howl and how dogs behave that I was able to alchemise my own explanation.

In my whole life, even though I hate dogs, there had never been a time that our house hadn't had one. I don't know why but my parents would just say so that someone can guard the house. In all those years that I was living along with a canine (at one time, several), I observed that dogs like to bark at things far away from them. Sometimes they chase it but ultimately, they can't reach it. Or raising it to a higher moronic level, doesn't want to reach it. They look like a bunch of idiots. But hey! They're animals. They act by instinct. Can't blame them.


There's this nursery rhyme, that I believe most of us are familiar with--Hey Diddle Diddle? It goes like this:

Hey diddle diddle,
the cat and the fiddle,
The cow jumped over the moon,
The little dog laughed to see such sport,
And the dish ran away with the spoon.

Now what caught me was the line "The cow jumped over the moon."

Why?

Since we're all talking about moon and dogs, how did the cow get into the scene?



Let me just explain it like this.

There's this dog who was guarding his owner's house when he saw a mouse pass him by. Naturally, he tried to catch it and luckily he did. But the mouse begged for his life and said that he would exchange his freedom for a secret that has been passed through the generations of the mouse family. The dog agreed and he was told by the mouse he caught that the moon was a large cheese and that if you take a bite off it, you'll experience a flavor nobody has ever imagined. Keeping his promise, he let go of the mouse and pondered deeply on the story. How does it taste like? He asked himself. I wonder if it's soft or hard. These thoughts gradually flooded his mind and soon he was obsessed with the idea of taking a bite off the moon. He would often sit by the top of the hill and look at the moon, fascinated by the gentle glow that it radiates. Oftentimes, he would bark and howl at the moon saying, "Just you wait, I'm going to take a bite off you!" Almost everyday, he barked at the moon saying the same things over and over. But one night, over the cliff where he frequented to gaze at the moon, he saw a strange lot. There was a cat with a fiddle, a cow stretching it legs like readying for a marathon, and a piece of China talking to a silver spoon. Curious, he went to them and asked them what were they doing on top of the hill. The cat looked at him and played with his fiddle before answering. "Cow here's going to jump over the moon." The dog was surprised and thought that they must be joking. Nevertheless, he asked: "Why?" The cat answered, "Why? To get some cheese of course. We heard from a mouse that the cheese from the moon is very tasty." "But why the cow? You could have done it since you're more nimble." the dog said. "Can't do that. Cow's the one who wanted to get a bite off the moon here. So he's been practicing jumping high." the cat replied. He watched the cow still doing some stretching exercises and breathing in and exhaling heavily. Then the cat played his fiddle with a merry song and the cow prepares to jump. With the next chord on the fiddle, the cow jumped and he was soaring up and up and up until he was so small from the dog's sight. The dog wasn't sure if it was true or not but he was standing there witnessing all of it. Then, with a presto music from the fiddle, the cow followed a beautiful invisible arc just above the glowing moon. The spoon and the China ran in the direction of the cow, much to the dog's confusion. "They're going to catch the cheese Cow cut off." the cat said when he noticed the look on the dog's face. The dog was speechless for a while then he began to smile and that smile slowly became snickers and eventually into sarcastic laughs.


In more ways than what I had imagined, I have been in a similar situation like the dog. Always, barking at the moon, staring at it from afar but never did any practices that could have helped me launch myself to get a lump of cheese. And now I see myself as an idiot dog who chases around objects from afar and barks at them when I can't reach them. Dogs aren't as nimble as cats. Dogs are made to bark. But then cows are made to be milked and to be butchered as cattle. They can't reach the moon. They're not supposed to.

I have another version of that Hey Diddle Diddle

Hey diddle diddle,
the cat and the fiddle,
The cow jumped over the moon,
The dish ran away with the spoon
And the little dog stopped barking
Then laughed at himself to see such sport.

I am just a dog that barks at the moon
....at least the cow jumped over it with all it's boob dangling.

That hedgehog is one queer animal.

Most especially since almost everyone is no expert on the subject of Zoology. You could also count the fact that the only hedgehog that many of us are familiar with is a blue furred (or spined), fast running game character who hailed way back from the old Sega days that we find them rather different from what we expected. Funny, seeing a hedgehog colored blue, spinning and bouncing on springs while all the time it had been this small animal with a thousand spines with no indication whatsoever that it can run at sonic speed.

(disclaimer: I don't own this blue guy. I wish I do

but sadly Sega owns him. Or so I think?)

But are hedgehogs really fast? No of course not. Judging by their appearance, I say they’re very refined—timid to be precise. I daresay this because of a story that I heard about a hedgehog and his dilemma.

Once there was a hedgehog in the clearing of the forest who did not wish for anything but to befriend every animal there. He tried to get close to the bunny but the bunny screamed “Ouch!” as the hedgehog’s spines touched the bunny’s body. The hedgehog withdrew and wandered along until he saw a deer. He attempted yet another close communication but as soon as he neared the deer’s hooves, the deer jerked its legs and let out a sudden yelp of pain. He tried to get close to every animal but the same thing happened—they all just got hurt. The hedgehog, losing hope, sat against a tree. As soon as his body touched the trunk, he squelched a cry of pain, as his own spines bore onto him, stinging every part of his body. He looked at his surroundings. The deer was licking his leg where the hedgehog’s spine came in contact with. “They’re lucky they can lick their wounds.” With that, he satisfied himself on the grass as he realized his dilemma.

I don't think Zoology's the best science to understand hedgehogs...

"Are you sure you want to close that program 'Choice'? All files that have been created up to this point will be lost. Y/N?"..*thinks for hours*

I don't know how was I able to recall most of the important DOS commands when they were taught extensively (which I reciprocated by learning in a non-enthused way) by our elementary teacher way back in my elementary days. That was always a Wednesday when we would have extension classes and we'd gather in our "hi-tech" Computer Laboratory which housed forty something computers for the use of both elementary and high school student back in those times.

Funny. Recalling them sets a nostalgic feeling inside me. Or maybe I just missed the good old days when a CPU still had a 5 1/2 floppy port and weighed a ton (for a kid my age back then).

Anyway, going back, as I said, it was always a Wednesday. So there we were on a typical Wednesday morning inserting our wobbly floppy disks in their ports, boot our computer and then look at the board to check for instructions on what to do. On what commands to use.

...on what to do.

Pretty convenient. You don't have to think about anything--but follow the instructions. Just carrying yourself there, then wait for instructions. Being quite ignorant with computers, you would most definitely spend half of your time trying to figure out if pressing on the enter button would cost you your entire year of schooling or being blown to bits by an exploding monitor. You won't have the dilemma of a decision maker worried till his guts spill on the floor on what would his decisions do to a particular program in life.

You won't have a free will you moron!

Sure you don't. I only said it's convenient. I didn't say follow it.

So what? Should we all be decision makers then?

Now this is one of the most moronic, absurd and surreal question that you can throw on this topic. And the answer is most definitely a yes...






Ok. Throw things at me. Laugh at the ironic man behind the keyboard. Gut me alive and throw me to the fiery pits. But I would still answer yes.


Imagine you are the computer. I try to input a command on you. Having memorized only the handful basic commands that were present in the internal system of a DOS computer, I tried to to input A:\>xcopy h:\*.* /a /e /k. This would attempt to copy all files from the H drive to the A drive. But, you saw that when I booted up the system, I didn't load a DOS disk which would contain an xcopy command (note: this example is an example with a setting where there are still external and internal DOS commands). So, observing that, you the computer would definitely say Bad command or file name. But you were programmed! It wasn't decided by the you, computer.

See how following instructions can cause some trouble? Instead of using only one command to copy all of the files with a much simpler syntax, I would have to use the Copy command and a whole other bunch of syntaxes before I could copy all the crap from my drive H to my drive A just because I'm missing a disk and because you, the computer stands firm with protocol.

Now, I haven't seen the progress of the MS DOS computer in the country but when I got a computer back in high school, we were already running in Windows so I figured all of the DOS commands are now incorporated within, which, in all good fortune, my friend Mr. Gates, obliged to do so. So now, I can use the xcopy command to copy all of the files without using a disk.

Finally. A change of heart.

What I'm trying to point out is, while following instructions, walking the line of obedience, and dogging to commands (a bit extreme yeah, but you get what I mean) is all good, there are times when a decision need not protocols to pass judgment. When we are all ignorant of something, then someone tells us to do this so that we can get this, we stop for a moment and asks oursleves unconsciously if the commander is trustworthy. From here on, we decide. We contemplate on something within us then extract a substantive answer. Whether you answer yes or no, is up to you.

In the case of blackmailing, nobody can coerce you into doing something. When you get blackmailed, you aren't coerced. You just don't know it but you've made the decision even before the situation presented itself in front of you. Don't tell them you don;t have a choice. It's because you chose that things are happening and circling within your life. You don't say to a kidnapper who kidnapped you son yes and yes all the time without thinking. If ever all youn said is yes and agreed to all the terms and conditions of the kidnapper, then you are 101% sure of your decision. For you, there are no other choices because, no matter what, you will choose that one answer.


Rules are for fools as the saying goes; most popular to rebellious type of people. But they don't really see that inside them, they are playing life with a different kind of rule. A gangster who always disregards the law no matter what also has rules that they follow. Personal rules if I may say. They have established an unspoken rule that no matter what, I'm going to oppose the rules. And he follows that. He opposes the rules. Yet he abides by another rule. If he decides to turn to the police and lead a normal life, once again he violated the other rule.

Life's full of rules and regulations, commands, sometimes syntaxes that are meant to be broken and swayed from. Otherwise, we'd be like MS DOS computers waiting for my pal Mr. Gates to upgrade us so that we can decide if we are to use paper towel when we poo or to use a regular toilet paper.




Somebody's going to have to bend over the rules or else the rules are going to stay with the ruler. Why were French Curves and Flexible Curves invented by drafters? Because all things drawn by a ruler are edgy. Can you draw a question mark with a ruler? Then don't use a ruler or better yet just draw it without any...tool...

huh? what?

Please insert memory card on the memory slot and try again......Lifestation® doesn't have a memory slot moron!

It really is fascinating on how a single miniature device such as a memory card can hold data for your games like in Playstation® or other game consoles (sorry I'm not quite familiar with other game consoles much more their "memory cards" but I'm sure that their using one similar to it) and be able to retrieve it where you left off. You're a very busy man who but just found the leisure of playing at home with your console on your day off and you're in the middle of a 100 level dungeon, then your boss calls you and yells at you to get your butt in gear and be at the office in fifteen minutes. Naturally, for a career man, you'd hurry up, standing that is from that comfortable chair, grab your suit, jacket or whatever, put on some setting gel, look at the mirror for a while while absorbing every decibel from that annoying voice of your boss.

That is for the career man.

Now, for the game lover, who was just compelled to do work so that he'd have a secured financial sustenance to continue on gaming, he'd have to be making faces over the phone while saying yes and yes to everything his employer would say and would still be walking along in the dungeon trying to find a way out or better yet, a save point.

That would really save your ass there gaming man!

That's one advantage of a save point in a computer game. You get to start again on that save point(loading), retain all previous data (everything that had been done prior to saving) and lose the worry of starting all over again like in the classic Mario World game whenever the power supply is cut off just the moment you get to test that elusive and wonderful Power P.

Another advantage that can be taken from this wonderful saving plasticked circuitry, is you can do a test run of things.

How so?

Saving and loading. Loading and saving.

To elaborate, allow me to provide an example. Let's say your characters in the game are given choices. They have to answer one question. Then the AI gives you three choices to choose from, each choice would mean getting specific items accessible only through this simple conundrum. What you can do is a simple trial and error scheme. You save first before getting these choices in the game. Later on, choose one of the three options test out if the item is worth your choice. If it doesn't fit your shoe, then go ahead and load your game again from whence you saved it prior to the choices. Rinse and repeat.

Data are pretty convenient things. You can record things on something then if you happen to pick the wrong choice, by all means, use the power of "Save and load."

In as far as convenience brought about by these wonderful mechanisms is concerned, life's choices never shares even a tiny bit of this. Our choices are made up of several, not just three for in this world, there are infinite possibilities for a situation. The first few are the ones considered as choices since they are the choices that keep in touch with reality. You wouldn't even consider a choice of bursting into billions of atomic particles just to pass an exam because the closest possible way to pass an exam is to study. Bursting into a billion atomic particles is just so absurd but it is still a possibility. Even if the possibility of it happening for you to pass an exam is 1 x 10 ^ (-1000), it still is a possibility.

Let's try to refer our life to a road with infinite branches. Straight ahead, we have a a choice ready that says "Study for the exams." On the left side of that is a choice which says "Study a bit for the exams." On the right side is "Sleep with your professor than study for the exams." And adjacent to those choices are other choices that stretch out far into the horizon--so far that you can't see it anymore even if you magnify it a million times (what is a million to infinity). So studying your choices, you choose one. Now, this choice would lead to another set of infinite choices and choosing from that will lead you yet again to an infinite set of choices. Looking at that plane where you stand and make choices by walking through the roads from the top, you can visualize a line that branches out to numerous other lines. Now, let's say we trace a white line from where you started, from your birth up to your death. Let's say, you keep on going forward and you seem to be on the right track not once swaying from it. You just pressed forward and chose the right path--the correct one for you (what the hell? you're too perfect!). Just a forward approach would create a line, though not straight, but unwaivering; a line that never crossed itself on it's journey. A fine fine white line from start to finish.

Let's say, another person takes his journey. Let's draw another line and follow each and every decision he makes. Say, this person had a lot of regrets so most of his decisions were a failrue on his part. There was a time when he kept on going circles on the same branch, choosing the same failed option only to end up once again where he came from. So from going on circles, he curves a bit to the left and then to the right, then went back to reminisce. A little hesitant, he stayed there for a while before choosing a different path. But eventually, with all the circling and going back, he will eventually die in the end. Same with the straight forward man. Just the same with the straight forward man

I remember two geometric principles when I was in high school (and was heavily reminded of it back in college)

• The shortest way between two points is a straight line and
• A polygon is made up of a line that intersects itself

And in case you're wondering why those two principles came up, it's got something to do with the two men choosing their road.

Also try coloring these




A LINE



A CURVED ABSTRACT



I'll be loading my saved game right now...



~aargh!~ Data damage!!

Behind the doors of moroseness

She is very beautiful. As matter of fact, her appalling beauty never failed her to grab any non-schizophrenic, be it in a bar she frequented after her work in the library or anywhere else, only to dump him after a few hours of love making in the blanket of the night then stepping into tomorrow to find yet another night of carnal satisfaction.

She is at the tender age of 24 living in Ljubljana, Slovenia and her life was a life anyone would have envied. She was socially confident; she had a stable job; she has her loving parents who gave everything to her when she was young until she lived independently; and as was aforementioned, it is safe to say that she would never have any trouble when it comes to erotic relationship.

She is Veronika: young, beautiful, loved by her parents. She is also a walking irony, a person as good as dead, a madwoman, a pervert and a thesis test subject.

Veronika Decides to Die was written by the renowned author of the international best seller The Alchemist, Paulo Choelo. It entails the madness of a young woman, bored and tired of the way her life recurs everyday, feeling that her existence is merely a repercussion of time, decided to end the relentless cycle by overdosing herself with sleeping pills. Unfortunately for her, she did not find herself neither in heaven nor in hell. Instead, she woke up being barricaded by the walls of Villete, a mental hospital, where her doctors declared that due to her attempted suicide, her heart weakened and she has only five days to live. In Villete, Veronika discovered what madness really meant (at least in a madwoman's point of view); she discovered that she was a pervert; she found out what life truly meant and how to will to live once more; she even found love; and in her last five conscious days, she unknowingly gave proof to her doctor's theory on the causes of madness, leading her existence to be more than just a lump of flesh moping on her morose situation and waiting for death to lay its hands on her.

When Paulo Coehlo was a young man, his parents committed him to mental hospitals just because he wanted to be an artist--a profession unwelcome in Brazil during those times. During these involuntary commitments, he vowed to write about the injustices of his experiences. True to his word, he created the world of Veronika, demonstrating once again his writing prowess through the vivid illustrations of each of the characters thoughts allowing the readers to swim in it and empathize with them. Each story bears indispensable near truth situations that would open the eyes of the readers that everyday is a miracle.

Still clasping in her heart the poignant idea of life as a boring cycle, she roamed Villete with Mari, a former lawyer suffering from panic attacks, or with Zedka, who was there to be treated from depression, or at times during night, with Eduard, an ambassador's son diagnosed as schizophrenic.

Coehlo transformed the usual connotation of asylums as a chaotic place filled with hysterical cries housing aggressive patients into a place of reflection, self-discovery and a place of hope. A haven for the patients, Villete, and never a constricting edifice, Coehlo's vision of a prison in the novel is the person's inner conflicts. The design of each cold bar of this imaginary prison consists of simple roots (the primary reason why each character was in Villete) yet bearing complex fruits (the reason they remain there).

In his elaboration of the causes of madness, Coehlo, in the personality of one of the characters in the story, Dr. Igor, states that Vitriol, an inner poisoning and commonly known as bitterness, drives people insane. Madness in the novel is nothing like what is usually thought of madmen and madwomen. Madness is somewhat a state of mind wherein everybody thinks contrary to what you think. Delving into the thought, does it follow that everyone is mad at some point of thinking? Hmmm...

Veronika Decides to Die takes the readers into a full circle journey between despair and apathy and of self-appreciation. It dwells on understanding those people not considered belonging to the normal society. As the circle encompassing the situations comes to a full rotation, one can find that each day that we face is an opportunity to live our lives right and by right, it means living the way we want our life lived.

The reason why ants aren't hunted compared to elephants...not because of the ivory tusks thing *sheesh*

Never watch a pot on an open fire else it'll never boil.

Actually it will. It'll just feel like it takes forever for it to boil.

Scientifically speaking, it will boil, and, adding another scientific fact, it'll boil within the same amount of time else there might be something within your gaze that may be altering the specific and latent heat of water (or any liquid for that matter). I don't know, maybe you've got a particle beam whose wavelength is invisible to the human eyes.

Kidding aside, most people holds this true. Of course, omitting the fact that it really will boil at a certain time and at a certain exchange of energy, it really will take like forever to wait for steam to rise and feel the radiant heat from the container to your skin.

Why? Because people don't have the time or, to extenuate that statement, people value their time. They like to use every bit of their time wisely than watch a pot with boiling water inside it.

• Read the newspaper while boiling the water
• Eat breakfast while reading the newspaper
  
• Drink coffee while eating breakfast
  
• Jerk off while drinking coffee

Now this is multitasking, isn't it?

Just by boiling the water, you multitask. Not only did you get to see the latest news, you were able to stuff yourself with a morning meal and you don't have to worry about having a serious hard-on when your secretary comes by at your office with that plunging red suit and mini skirt.


But people tend to forget most of the time that pot of boiling water laying there on the stove. Sure it's a responsibility thing but the fact is, it is far less important than anything else that you could be doing for a particular day. Thus, you tend to forget one way or another.

There are two ways of forgetting this pot quitely ignored by the fire: 1) you forgot it and came back to check on it a few minutes after it boiled or 2) you completely forgot it and when you came back home, you were wondering why your empty kettle was glowing red hot.

There are also two ways of remembering it: 1) you remembered it a few minutes after it boiled or 2) you remembered that the pot is boiling all the time and you have a mental picture of it boiling inside your brain.

Remembering the poor old pot using the number 2 option is very wise. At least you have yourself inside you a virtual memo to take it out of the fire a few minutes after:

• You finished your breakfast
• You went to the toilet to train some muscles
• You combed your hair
• Flirting with girl next doors through her window

At least you remembered it...

Maybe that's one of the reasons why whistling kettles have been deviced.


You're sitting complacently on your chair and this thing whistles--you'd really have to be an uber stoic excessively passive guy or someone who pays no attention to small details.

If Sinigang was the country's currency, you'd find me hoarding all of them than investing them on noon time shows and drama shows

It never ceases to amaze me on how the dish "Sinigang" came into being. I mean, you just basically boil meat on water then drop some what-not vegetables in it, put a souring agent in it (depends on you--whatever could make that sour face of yours contort more to beat that wringed silk cloth) and you got yourself a dish. You can even watch a movie while cooking.

Don't mind the sarcasms. I love "Sinigang" so much that if there was a poll on what dish is to remain on the face of the Earth else it would implode, I'd vote for it any day.

...at least if it was cooked by me or my brother.

I never realized the time when this divine dish (for me) started to taste bland. But there's just this psychological monument inside me that can't be easily bulldozed that says "It's Sinigang and it's your favorite." So either my tongue is getting numb of the flavor or I have an amnesia of what sourness tastes like.

Just as I woke this afternoon, I turned and rounded around that musty kitchen of ours to get something to eat. Behold! Laying there inside the casserole is a fresh batch (you know what I'm talking about). I savored the aroma, feeling a tickling sensation between my cheekbones. I got a plate, grabbed that serving spoon and served myself a treat after being up until 5 A.M. I walked back to the dining room and sat down ready to indulge myself. Now it was in the afternoon and all the shows on TV were all drama shows except for a few noon time entertainment show. I'm not really into TV, much more celebrities, but this afternoon, this batch of Sinigang, this batch 's flagrant aroma that I savored, this batch that made my cheeks tickle suddenly became bland.

I finished my meal and memoed myself, never to eat this dish whilst people in the house are watching Wowowee. *shudders*

The show's not entirely at fault. No, no. Just one person who I can't stand hearing. Hearing him makes me want to to a reverse-sadako technique and go inside any TV set and do a round-house kick on his face while wearing a 100kg shoe made of a massive metal soon to be discovered in the future.

Oh well, that may BE his charisma since he got my attention by making me spite him so much.

At least it's evening now. I can eat Sinigang peacefully. *drools*

~Aaaarrgh!!!~ Primetime Drama Shows...c...an't....eat....

It's like riding a bike on a road full of shit but you don't know how to ride one

Ever heard of Misato Katsuragi? If you're not a fan of Neon Genesis Evangelion, or anime for that matter, I highly doubt that you'd know her, much more of what she said in the movie that off-shot from the series.

It went like this:

"I'm not perfect right now. I realized eveything that I have done wrong, and I regretted over and over again. It has been a continuous cycle of premature delight and self disgust. But each time, I felt like I stepped forward."


Right now, I am in the middle of that cycle just a little under self disgust.

Okay, I'm way under that I feel like I'm in a toilet bowl that is being flushed always but like some other shit on the bowl, I learned of ways of not being flushed through the drainage. And for me not to be lonely by myself with all the crap, I added some other ingredients in life to make my self disgust all the more worthwhile and eventful.

I fancied the idea of living away from home for a while. Nowhere close to living separately or independently, but in more ways than one, it is quite similar in a subtle manner only I can feel.
I can never really remember when I planned this, but all I can remember is that I plan to at least get out of the house for a while and do some thinking, planning this and that for my self. Sure I did some thinking but I never intended that thinking about something to find answers can lead to more questions unanswerable (as of the moment I hope).

It's like that Kamuning Road that crosses Tomas Morato and EDSA. It goes up then goes down. Goes up again then down again till you get to either end. What the hell is wrong with that road? I can only imagine it, before being landscaped. People might have had a hard time going to the 1800's EDSA to Tomas Morato found in a similar timeline. Anyway, as I said it's like--going up and down. Only now, I'm still down mustering some scattered self-esteem about the place to climb again. And for what? Just to go back down again.

Why'd it have to be so far.

Fucking EDSA...