Just got home to gas up the car. Upon entering our village, an oncoming tricycle cut my lane to park at the nearby terminal on my side. I managed to slow down and honked my horn out of anger. The wife told me the guy’s name was Pablo, apparently another member of this village’s hardcore community. She advised me to take the car tomorrow, for he might wait for me in some dark corner. Fuck, he was the one that cut me off, now I have to pay for the grave outrage of honking my horn at his dumb ass? Oooh, hardcore indeed.

At the start of our nanny’s tenure, I had made it clear that she would take her rest day when it was mine as well. Furthermore, I had told her that my rest days don’t necessarily fall on the weekends every week. Well, now she’s requesting that she needs to take her off on Saturday. The only way for her to do that is if I’m on the night shift, which I think will be all that’s left for me anyway. To be fair, she’s pro-active when it comes to chores and has other good traits. But what I don’t like is that she neglects Dan’s back when he’s perspiring. And since she’s a bit old, I sometimes worry if she’s strong enough to carry my kid – she looks a bit on the frail side.

Just venting here.

Off To a Rough Start

Coming from a two-day rest period, today didn't quite start out as well I wanted to. I woke up late, and since it was way too early (3:45 am) there wasn't any food yet. The water I was preparing for my bath was dirty. The water in our area is drawn from a deep well so when they clean the huge water tank for our area, it usually yields some residue. It was a good thing that we had some clean water stored in a separate container set aside for shortages, etc.

Since there were no tricycles around at the time, I had to walk to the gate of our village. I'm pretty much used to this when my shift is this early but today was different. It was a nice and rushed walk and I was inhaling the cold morning air when I heard barking from behind me. Now I'm used to passing by stray and owned dogs; they don't really do anything but bark at me. This time though I knew something was up because I recognized the particular dog as I turned around. It was the mean one that was usually chained up by his drunkard of a master.

To my suprise, this son of a bitch was free to roam the streets and was coming up behind me fast. I thought it was useless trying to run so I stopped in my tracks and faced him. I menacingly swung my backpack his direction to scare him off. It worked - he barked and backed off. It looked like he was gonna try again so I did the same thing. I thought to myself it wasn't so bad since nobody saw me as it was too early for anyone to be around. Of course, someone had to be walking nearby at that hour thereby bearing witness to my skirmish.

Even if the ride to work was fast, I still arrived late from all the delays I had. And I left my gel at home so my short hair looks like a bit of a train wreck from the strong draft from the jeepney trip. GREAT. Nothing a little trip to washroom can't fix I guess.

Oh, I'm having second thoughts about sending the email to that person. Going to back to my last entry, the other thing I learned is to be selective with the person you want to have an honest talk with. In some cases, it'll just blow up in your face. Which is why I'm hesitant now; I don't think he really gives a shit about me, let alone what I have to say.

Choking On That Jagged Little Pill

It's usually when I'm lying in bed at night that I have a few epiphanies of sorts. Right after putting my kid to sleep last night and observing him in that peaceful state, thoughts came flooding in once again. In the dark, I was pondering on a recent scuffle I had with someone. We had exchanged a series of nasty words via IM, and one thing led to another. Shortly after, I had done something out of anger. Realizing my lapse in judgment, I worked up the nerve to apologize to the said person. Initially, I was thinking about just letting things blow over and act like nothing happened. But then, my conscience and embarrassment was gnawing away at me so much that I couldn't bear NOT to patch things up.

So I went over and made the first move and explained my side, the reasons behind my anger, and of course apologized. Hostility gave way to understanding on both sides, and mutual admissions of guilt were exchanged. All in all, it went well. We were cool after that. But what was keeping awake was the fact that I was so determined to fix things with that person. Looking back, I made the first move because I couldn’t bear to see another breakdown of human relations occur in my life. These recent years, I’ve become familiar with the bitter aftertaste when you end up creating a chasm of misunderstanding with a friend or family member. Prior to those recent years (college onwards), I never knew what it was like not be on speaking terms with someone you were previously close with (with the exception of a couple of the neighbors I grew up with).

Sure, I had spats with my playmates as a kid, but those were trivial and petty; everybody goes through those while growing up. But when I hit college, I realized what a nauseous sensation it was to be estranged from someone you shared good times with before. I couldn’t stomach the feeling of someone hating you for whatever reason. The most probable reason why I’m still bummed out about the rift between my college blockmates is that I put my pride on the line. In the name of reconciliation, I hung my self-esteem out to dry so they could wring it out for what it was worth. But what did I get out of it? Nothing, except a hefty dose of conceited, backstabbing goodness. I put myself out there and they didn’t even have the decency of talking about what happened (well at least not to my face). If their beef with me was so bad, why didn’t they have the balls to say it in front of me?

To this day, some deep, buried part of me is still pissed off. Why? I had put myself out there and tried to be as honest and frank as possible, even if it was difficult. I had admitted my shortcomings and earnestly tried to be a civilized human being. Still, that wasn’t enough for them. For all the courage I mustered up to talk about sensitive issues, I just got burned in the end. Adding insult to injury, they acted like we were good friends again and like nothing happened when I met up with them several years after.

Right at that moment last night, it just hit me. After all these years of reflection, it’s apparent that there’s really nothing wrong with me. I had messed up, but not that bad. If they couldn’t find it in themselves to at least acknowledge my initiative then that’s their problem. With those thoughts, I can breathe better now. I’ve probably known it all along, but now I can freely say that I don’t need their goddamn approval. Not anymore, fuckhead spineless little shits.

So going back to my recent fracas, it just occurred to me that I wasn’t going let that happen - NOT AGAIN if I could help it. I was extremely relieved to know that my apology was accepted and that we could be on good (NOT just speaking) terms again. This time, I was actually applauded for what I did. I mentioned to the person that I know when I’m wrong, and that I couldn’t bear to see another relationship in my life go sour. I was told to my face, “it takes a man to do that”. Whew, that felt good. I guess I still have a scrap of decency left in me after all.

There is one other person I’ve been meaning to send an email to. After all that talk about being brave, somehow I can’t bear to talk to that someone face to face for now. Let’s see how that one goes.

Fight Club

This is too hardcore for my movie-watching, broken prose-writing, pseudo musical critic self. I had just finished watching Red Dragon (which was already gruesome for me) when my wife informed me that her younger brother had gotten himself in a tussle last night. He was peeing somewhere by the sidewalk in one the streets of our village when a bunch of guys decided to get their kicks by picking on him. Now I've criticized him for being such a lazy bum at times, but he's a nice guy really. And that comment has nothing to do with the fact that he actually beat his would-be assailant, much to their surprise. From what I heard, he managed to get the guy in a headlock and proceeded to pound the asshole's face with his fist. Talk about a makeover.

Apparently, the said hooligans are members of a well-known fraternity. It still makes my innards turn at the local concept of such organizations. In any case, my wife thinks they're just posing as members of the said group. She'll find out herself as soon as she gets the name of the guys that attacked her brother. The wifey used to hang out with a rough crowd back in high school and college so she knows a lot of people from the fraternity in question. She'll make a couple of phone calls I guess.

"Make a couple of phone calls" - is that mafia-like or what?

Oooooh, hardcore indeed.

I have to make this count

Whoopee. This is my first post from home. Our dial up connection is agonzingly slow, so I have to make the most of the moment. They fixed the phone line last night so they could hook up a new line for the PC. It was ok last night, but after trying to download YM it crapped out all of a sudden. The pages were loading slow and everything was basically screwed up from then on. arrrrgggh.

Ahh, where to begin? Well, I extended my resignation notice until the middle of May for various reasons - namely because my other job prospects were not so certain after all. I intend to work part-time so I can divert some time to our business as well. Still in mid-air as I mentioned before - the transition is still nail-biting. Sheesh.

A new nanny came in today. She seems nice enough and has all the qualities we're looking for: clean, polite, efficient, proactive, and friendly with kids (she already has four grandchildren). I'm not raising my hopes if she turns out to be unfit for the job. We’ve been in between countless ones so far for me to care at this point. It would be nice though if she actually stuck around for at least a year or so. The longest one we had stayed for about six months.

I feel like I’m on the brink of doing something great with my life, but I don’t know how or when it’s gonna happen. Somehow, somewhere it’s going to follow through. Is that weird?

I’m going to post next about a couple of bizarre dreams I had recently. I think I’ve done something close to what they call lucid dreaming.

Cheers.

Goodbye Comfort Zone

Well, I finally bit the bullet and passed my resignation notice. It feels like swinging in the jungle, letting go of one vine to grab the next one - and hoping it isn't greased. Right now, I'm squarely in mid-air, anticipating my days away. I guess I have to compose an obligatory goodbye email to my beloved co-workers...but that's for another day.

Tough Ain't Enough

It’s just been minutes since the end credits stopped rolling, and it was a good thing that I didn’t see any of the trailers for Million Dollar Baby, or read any PR about it. There’s a sense of purity in watching a movie with little knowledge of who’s who, or what the gimmick is. By saying “gimmick” though, is a mockery in this case. Much like the first Matrix film, this had the sleeper effect (something that comes out of nowhere to surprise you) on me because I saw the film without any expectations whatsoever. However, knowing beforehand that this is what won Clint Eastwood, Morgan Freeman and Hillary Swank their respective Oscars this year may skew my views just a little bit.

To the reader, there will be spoilers here so be warned. The film opens with Frankie Dunn (Eastwood) patching up his battle-weary fighter. Here we see that he’s an old man, jaded with events that have passed. He lends a general air of disenchantment and nurses a broken sense of security. Deathly afraid that his fighter will get in over his head, he puts off setting up any major title fights for his boy. Eventually, his warrior leaves him for another manager, and for greener pastures. Enter Maggie Fitzgerald (Swank), a hopeless case practically begging Frankie to take her under his wing. Cynical as he is about her (“I don’t train girls”, “tough ain’t enough”), he reluctantly begins the agonizing process of starting from the ground up with this helpless, clumsy excuse of a newbie. We’ve all seen this same scenario played in other movies, but this time it strikes a very painful chord.

Here we see the excellent performances by Eastwood, Swank, and Freeman, who plays a vital role in this subtle drama. A burned out has-been in the world of boxing, he still has a glimmer of optimism for the young hopefuls that come through the doors of their gym. For me, Freeman’s character represents part of the painful past that has molded Frankie Dunn into who he is. Freeman plays Scrap, a longtime friend of Frankie, and they were in fact, partners at one time as a boxer and manager respectively. Frankie eternally regrets the fact that he pushed Scrap too hard in his 109th fight, which cost him his eye in that fateful match. Their funny banter and humorous conversations barely mask the complex relationship these old friends share. In spite of it all, they still share a bond, which I’d like to think, other men of their age would be envious of.

Going back to Frankie and Maggie’s uphill struggle, the movie is actually more than just that journey. We see the circumstances that have brought these two hurtful souls together. I appreciated the beauty of sharing a connection that they’ve long lost in the estranged families they’ve come from. Basically, they found the parent and the child in each other that they didn’t find in their own blood relatives. Frankie found it in himself to take a big risk - something that he hasn’t done in a long, long time. Maggie was more than willing to go headfirst into the fray. Meanwhile, Frankie was able to let go of his fear and inhibition after being inspired by Maggie’s iron will. Halfway through the film, it occurred to me that they would do away with the standard clichés. By the time Maggie stepped into the ring for her final match, I sensed that the story would go for the ironic approach. I was right. Brief triumph was immediately followed by crippling defeat. It’s when they try to pick up the pieces that make the characters what they are – where they ultimately shine as decent human beings, trying to make the best of what life gives them.

Personally, I found final scenes heart-wrenching. At Maggie’s request, Frankie had taken it upon himself to end her suffering by cutting off her life support. I found this to be a very poignant decision because in one way or another, I could see myself in that situation. My aunt recently passed away on account of illness. She had requested in her last will and testament that should she fall into such a state, any artificial means to prolong her life should be halted. As such, I know the firsthand pain of someone dying right then and there.

I believe that the most effective movies are the ones where you can identify with the characters of the story – or at least find pieces of yourself in them. All of us have relatives we’ve been alienated from, all of us have missed an opportunity that we regret to this day, and all of us have lost loved ones to death. What makes Clint Eastwood’s efforts so great is that none of the scenes were over the top or overplayed. At the hands of a lesser director, the intended message might have not come across that clear, or that painful.

The seemingly dry wit and deadpan approach only magnifies the reality of the story. It makes the personal battles waged by the main characters all the more convincing. Finding a tasteful amount of restraint, the expression “less is more” sure carries a lot of weight. The themes found in Million Dollar Baby (sheer determination, the bond that goes beyond blood, seizing the moment) have been played in countless other films, but it’s been a while since I’ve seen them so gracefully depicted.

I wish that I was one of those special, magical people that don't need to cough up sixty bucks to park in the very same building I work in. Sixty a day may not be a big deal to others, but it is to me. Hundred parking slots, my ass. The ones allotted for the mere mortals aren't even at fifty, counting the ones at the basement level. Aside from the gas I'm already consuming to drive to work, wasting more money just to park is annoying. Pure B.S. IMHO.

I guess I just have to commute then.

I'm running a fever today. The biogesic is keeping it at bay, but it's probably gonna kick in again when I get home. Will I make it until Friday? Only my body knows. Dan and I took a 3 hour nap last night at 6:30 pm. When I woke up, I felt a naseous sensation in my stomach. It felt like a bout of hyperacidity making a comeback. So I took an antacid and felt better after, but not before squirming in bed for an hour or so. When I woke up this morning, I felt a bit hot and my bones felt heavy. So I dragged myself out of bed to take a semi-warm bath and took some paracetamol before leaving for work. So here I am at the office trying not to let hyperacidity and fever get the best of me.

We're expecting a new nanny later this morning; hope she turns out ok. We interviewed her yesterday and so far she looks ok. She's a mother of two kids, both of which are in their early teens if I recall correctly. Of course you never know how they turn out until they've been around for some time. Here's hoping that we found a good one...I can't exist on a few hours of sleep on a daily basis.

It's five minutes until my short break, and one call is on queue. Time to earn my pay right? I'll be updating this later.

Cheers.

The Phone Monkey Knows No Fear

There's those few seconds of unsettling silence between me and the customer after I relay the bad news. It could be that they can't install on both a Mac or a PC at the same time, or maybe they have to pay for technical support, or it could be that their version is only supported online. Whatever it is, there's that small amount of time, which technically is just a drop in the bucket of the time-space continium, but seems to last much, much longer than it actually is.

"I'm sorry, but the license only allows you to install on one platform, even if we allow two machines per copy..."

"Unfortunately, the support for your version is only found online"

"Aside from our online forums, you can choose to log a paid incident for phone support"

Then the silence ensues. As I've said, it ranges from 3-5 seconds, which is really not a long time at all. But it feels like forever considering the white-knuckled anticipation of what the caller will say next. In fact, I feel like one of those war correspondents on the battelfield waiting for the maelstrom that will follow after hearing the sound of the mortar firing. The next few seconds could mean greivious harm, or a narrow brush with death.

....
....
....

"You have got to be kidding me."

"No way, this is bullshit."

"Oh, okay."

Predictably, the last response is the one I always hope for. I secretly exhale a sigh of relief when they actually accept what I have to tell them. Of course there will be times when the customer will give you a piece of his/her mind in a not-so-eloquent fashion. Ah, such is the life of a phone monkey. Not that I'm really complaining now, my last call center gig was ten times worse, given that 90% of calls you get involve a seething, computer illiterate homeowner. Add that to the lousy management, which made me quit 3 months into the job. So you see, it's just a little something I observed from my current work.

*****************************************

On to other things, my sister nearly lost her life recently due to food posioning. Not spoiled food mind you, but chemical posioning. They were making homemade corned beef and the excessive amount of sodium nitrate was the culprit. The recipe called for about half a teaspoon of the stuff to go with a pound of the beef. Apparently, it was the maid that erroneously added something like FOUR fucking tablespoons of the additive. Propotionally that would make it an overdose amounting to 400%. That caused my sister to collapse in front of her kids after ingesting the tainted meat. Had they gone to Makati Medical Center, she wouldn't have made it since she was in Alabang at the time. It was a good thing they sought treatment at a nearby hospital instead. Otherwise, I'd be on funeral leave right now. Her face was stiff and her hands slowly turned black for christ's sake.

So kids, remember to check the amount of death sodium nitrate that you put into your homemade corned beef, because that may be the last thing you'll eat in this god-forsaken earth.

People=Shit (Slipknot)

Here we go again, motherfucker

Come on down, and see the idiot right here

Too fucked to beg and not afraid to care

What's the matter with calamity anyway?

Right? Get the fuck outta my face

Understand that I can't feel anything

It isn't like I wanna sift through the decay

I feel like a would, like I got a fuckin' Gun against my head,

you live when I'm dead

One more time, mother fucker

Everybody hates me now, so fuck it

Blood's on my face and my hands, and I

Don't know why, I'm not afraid to cry

But that's none of your business

Whose life is it? Get it? See it? Feel it? Eat it?

Spin it around so i can spit in its face

I wanna leave without a trace

Cuz I don't wanna die in this place

People = Shit

People = Shit (Whatcha gonna do?)

People = Shit (Cuz I am not afraid of you)

People = Shit (I'm everything you'll never be)

People = Shit

It never stops - you can't be everything to everyone

Contagion - I'm sittin' at the side of Satan

What do you want from me?

They never told me the failure I was meant to be

Overdo it - don't tell me you blew it

Stop your bitchin' and fight your way through it

I'M - NOT - LIKE - YOU - I - JUST - FUCK - UP

C'mon mother fucker, everybody has to die

People = Shit People = Shit (Whatcha gonna do?)

People = Shit (Cuz I am not afraid of you)

People = Shit (I'm everything you'll never be)

People = Shit

Bummed Out

Sadly my hopes for being a daywalker crashed and burned in a blaze of glory for the fourth time. Like a WWII fighter plane shot down by an ICBM. Just came up from the 31st floor to have a smoke. Shit, shit, shit. My breath tastes of nicotine and iced tea, and my morale is sinking like a camel in quicksand. The more I try to shake myself out of it, the deeper I get. What else to do but stay still and hope for someone to pull me out? Yes indeed, yes in-fucking-deed.

A co-worker came up to me to propose a networking scheme he has going on. Incidentally, I tried to pitch a same gimmick to him a few months back because my mom gently forced me to join her new money-making venture. Currently, that hasn't panned out for me too much. Going back to said co-worker's proposal, it seems legal enough: it's a well-established business entity in the book/magazine/comic trade that's planning to try its hand at this crazy game called networking. It's certainly cheaper to sign up for this one, as opposed to the afformentioned scheme I got myself into some time ago. Same deal: you get a referral fee for those that sign up under your own name, or known as a downline to those familiar with the game. Same promises of untold riches too: about 200 grand a month if you're really, really good at it. "Good" being the sales talking kind of guy, which I'm not. That's probably why I'm not going to be up to it. That's just not me. And besides, I need to focus my attention on our tutorial business.

There's a lot of money out there; the trick is how to get your share of it. Sigh, they're just sheets pf paper that if you had piles of, would create an illusion of happiness. But I would like to have just enough of it to live a bit comfortably. Is that all there is to life? Join the rat race to secure a financial oasis in this poverty-sticken desert of unemployment and rising rates of inflation? That's how a man's worth is measured by, right? The so-called diskarte. The true yardstick of one's manhood.

Fuckity fuck fuck fuck. Be a man, Marko. Suck it up. Stop whining. Get down and give me infinity. Hop to it, soldier.

Okay, I'll stop now.

I fought the law

Last Friday I nearly got caught by the MMDA upon executing a right turn into Ortigas Ave coming from J. Vargas. I came from work the night before and had forgotten that the car I was using was not allowed the following morning (color coding). The traffic enforcer was standing by the corner, and had eyes like a hawk. I tried tailgating the car in front of me to obscure the incriminating license plate I bore (which ends in the number "9"). No good. Shortly after I made a right, he gestured with his hand to pull over. He probably knew I was pretending not to see him so he called to his companions (whom I didn't notice until I came out of the turn). To my horror, his buddies had a motorcycle. I heard them honking their motorcycle horn, or was it a siren ("wang-wang")?

In any case, I just drove along at a moderate pace to keep the charade going. I dared not speed up, because that would give away that I was guilty. Better to feign ignorance, right? I thought to myself, "what the hell am I doing?". I figured I wasn't in the mood to argue with the MMDA dude, or fork over some bribe cash to squirm my way out of the situation...it was already an exhausting night for me as it was.

I was furiously checking my rearview mirror to see if they were going to chase me. I was approaching the C5/ Ortigas intersection and was panicking because the traffic light didn't look like it was going to turn green any time soon. That meant I had to stop, which will risk my capture if they had gone after me. I suddenly remembered The World's Scariest Car Chases. Well, it never came to that, but my little brush with the fuzz was a bit of a rush. So, I opted to make a left into Libis instead to keep my momentum going. I knew a route going home from there (albeit longer), so all was well.

I guess they figured it wasn't worth it to go after me. I'd like to think that the befuddled traffic enforcer muttered "shit!! there goes my breakfast".

Yes indeed, I am a bad, baaaaad, man.

Disgruntled Phone Monkey

11:19 pm:

A lot of things are getting me down. Work-wise, I feel a dark cloud looming over me, bearing its weight on my shoulders...even though it's high above. Its presence is more than enough to keep my mind a stirred frenzy of restlessness. I can't keep focused if my body lacks the rest it needs. I need a vacation. Have you seen that Lucky Me commercial where the guy was so exhausted from work that he was oblivious to the cars on the street? Well that's me, but it will take more than a cup of noodles to fix me up.

This shall come to pass, like any other phases or mood swings. Off to work for now; it's the best way to drown the thoughts gnawing away at peace of mind.

12:08 am:

Just finished a call. It just occured to me that I'm growing increasingly unhappy because I feel entrapped in my schedule. I feel like I don't have a life anymore; it's just a perception though. I feel trapped by my severe lack of sleep. I need a new schedule. Or a new job. Or hire a nanny so I can sleep. Either way, something's gotta give. It can be my mind, my body, or my schedule.

Something. Anything.

2:59 am:

Got out of a 30 minute break half an hour ago. Tried to steal a bit of sleep. Now I feel like a zombie struggling to resurrect myself back to life. I am the undead. The rec room feels like home so it's really hard for me not to sleep so soundly. I always have strange dreams when I sleep there.

I'm sliding downhill into a murky pool of depression when I think about my son. It sucks that I'm not there at night.

5:23 am:

Night of the living dead part two. Waking up from my lunch break is a major fucking drag. Someone give me a medal: with my brain at half capacity, I still had it in me to establish rapport with the customer. Hell, I even made her laugh:

Me: So, did u change Windows versions when you re-did your PC?

Her: Uh, I went from XP to 2K because it was grindingly slow from all those updates you know?

Me: Yeah...ok, just give me a few moments to generate your activation code....I'm on XP.

Her: Ok, hahaha.

Way Past Strike Three

Currently blasting A Crow Left of The Murder on my co-worker's overly borrowed headphones. I need it to drown out my thoughts on my fate as an employee of this company. I'm schduled for a meeting with my team lead (TL) to discuss my evaluation/performance as of late.

This morning, I overslept at work for the fourth time this month. What a way to start 2005. I usually catch a wink during my lunch break at the office rec room. Problem is, I don't hear the celphone alarm when it goes off...hence the chronic tardiness. Just one instance of overbreak (10-15 minutes) reflects badly on our performance. Imagine the consequences of my offenses so far:

Strike 1: 20 minutes overbreak
Strike 2: 30 minutes overbreak
Strike 3: 1 1/2 hours overbreak
Strike 4: same as #3

I'm not that lazy, mind you. There are probably gonna be some preachy types lurking around here so I welcome it. But it's just that I only get 2-3 hours of sleep everyday (during the day literally, night shift sucks). Blame it on the responsibilties of married life and parenthood I suppose. I swear, I didn't mean it. This job is important to me, believe me. I should be telling that to my boss huh?

I'm just so goddamned tired. I don't know if I can find any other work that pays this much, which is higher than most entry level positions.

I sit here in anticipation, pondering on what other opportunities lie ahead of me should I be voted off the island. And we all know anticipation is worse than the proverbial shit-hits-the-fan. Add to the fact that I have an upcoming 2-day suspension for accumulated tardiness last year. I'll be lucky if they extend my suspension...I'd like to think of it as "unpaid leave".

New Skin

Looking good so far. A bit too plain maybe, but it's soothing. What do you think?

Not much calls tonight. Staring at the monitor for several hours on end is mind-numbing.

I feel like the screen is sucking my soul, awash in the wired world of the web.

Post Mortem Thoughts

If my blog was a significant other, it would break up with me for not even acknowledging that we've been together for a year...and neglecting it for so long.

Ahhh..... *sigh*. It's been quite a bit for me these past two weeks. A lot's happened so I'm bound to forget some details. The gears in my brain are slowly grinding again. I'm still blowing off the proverbial dust from my brain, so grammar and creative writing is optional at the moment. I've been on leave for close to two weeks because of a family emergency. My Aunt fell ill and passed away. It's something to watch new life being brought into this world but there no words when you see someone die in front of you. This was the woman who cared for me when I was alone. When I was practically the black sheep, she was there to support me. And all this while she was an ocean away from me. She would call me up like we were next door. And now her earthly vessel is a jar of ashes.

Like what I said at the mass, we all had a way of dealing with the grief; my way was that I never said goodbye to her during her final breaths. I sincerely believe that while her physical form is no more, she is still with us. What can we learn from all of this? Pass on the goodness she showed to all of us while she spent her days here on earth. Pass on the spirit of generosity and love. We all carry the piece of her that she shared with us. Take it out to the world and pass it on. My other aunt has a well-developed third eye which allows here to channel messages from those that have passed on. When an uncle of my mine died (who happens to be the husband of my recently deceased aunt) this other aunt of mine could tell us what messages he had for us. I recall that my uncle wanted to tell me that I'll be successful someday.

I'm being paranoid here, but since the dead can see these kind of things, I'm afraid my Aunt will now be able to see the blackness of my heart. The other side of me, the things that I'm ashamed of. It hurts to think that all she knew of me was that I was a good nephew. Now she'll see what I really am...the bad thoughts, the selfishness, the ugly things behind the facade.

I had to step on some toes and upset some people to leave and visit her, but I had to. The circumstances made it inevitable. I wouldn't have if it wasn't so important to me.

It was a surreal experience trying to get back home from the US. My status a non-revenue chance passenger doesn't allow me to get a seat if all slots are full. It took me several days before I could go home - hence it involved several trips to the airport, carrying my luggage and bringing it back to my cousin's place when they couldn't let me on the bloody plane. It's a good thing my cousin lives nearby, otherwise I'd either have to go to a nearby hotel, or sleep at the airport.

During this time, there was a strange old guy who I had a conversation with. He was an ex-military black guy married to a Filipina. He's been around, he tells me. A Vietnam veteran he is, and no stranger to the ways of the world. We were stuck in the same boat as he was a chance passenger as well. Huddled in the chance passenger crowd, we were waiting for any word of available seats. This was when he came up to me to start some chit-chat. He's a tall man, about 6 feet or so, bearing lines of experience and age on his face. He was chewing some sort of cinnamon candy which I could tell from his breath. They guy asked me to explain to his wife as to why we couldn't get a ride home. So being the nice guy I am, I explained to her (in tagalog) our common predicament.

He went on to explain to me how he knows so much about the Philippines having been around the world during his younger years in the military. It was the first country he has been to outside of the US. I didn't really answer much, I let him do most of the talking. Apparently, it must have made quite an impression for him to be knowledgable about the Marcos era onwards. The general flow of the dicussion was how the "screwed up" booking system of the airline was reflective of the general corruption back home. He goes on to preach to me (in a non-threatening and inspirational way) how I should be proud to be a Filipino and take it out to the world. I should not let the corrupt political powers that be control me and be their puppet. We should collectively tell them "hey, we're not going to take any more of this". Then he says "now I'm not asking you should start a revolt, but just be proud of what you are and don't let them control you". He tells me "now I now you're probably thinking, 'what the fuck is this black guy talking about? He doesn't even have a country of his own' ".

So here I am back home, with no intentions of starting any sort of social upheaval. Just the desire to go through the day without a hitch.

Happy Thanksgiving

More than half of our staff is out on holiday tonight (well, the sun is already out, but you know what i mean) for thanksgiving. Since we work on U.S hours, we rest when the yanks do. So here I am, with the headphones cranked up all the way to drown out the hip-hop music my co-workers are playing nearby. What is it about modern rap and hip-hop that gets people so hooked? Poke me for my musical prejudice, but any genre that has nothing better to sing/rap about than bitches, money, bling-bling, cars and other mundane shallowness is SHIT in my book.

This hatred of mine has deep roots stemming all the way back to high school. I was the sullen, black Sabbath-head kid in the back who was subject to occasional, not-so-subtle ridicule for one reason or another. Most of the popular guys were of the ghetto wannabe sort. You know who I'm talking about: the loud, boisterous blabbermouths who own souped-up, tricked out honda civics (and other asian economy car types) made to look like sports cars, which play fat-bass beats meant to attract maximum attention. Those guys that have this illusion that their rides are some sort of phallic enhancement. Anyway, I hated them for being shallow assholes that think that they're some sorta demigod or something. Jealous? Honestly, maybe partially because they were popular and all. But most of the bile that rose in my throat could be attributed to the attitude that they put out, and I linked that to their fucking music.

College did nothing to cool down the flames of hatred I had for rap/hip-hop. My girlfriend then (now my wife) has an ex who fit the aforementioned thug wannabe profile. Needless to say, it only fueled my rage against their shallow music. I hated that culture of fucking testosterone. Yes, you could call me an uptight bastard - it's not as if rock isn't capable of the same debauchery you might say. BUT at least rock can be that OR something better...like sticking-it-to-the-man as Jack Black put it in "School Of Rock". Prepackaged corporate angst? Maybe. But not all of it, I'd like to think. I have this high-minded ideal that rock can be a vehicle of change, of passive resistance, that you can play heavy music but be cerebral at the same time. But we all know that is not the case for some. (read: Creed, Kid Rock, etc) These days, the hate I feel has calmed down somewhat, but it flares up once in a while. Which brings me back to today. I don't hold it against my co-workers that they listen to that kind of music...I guess they just want to have a good time and enjoy themselves right? It should be no biggie at all. So, there is no point to this jigsaw of a rant. Feel free to share your thoughts, be it in concurrence (is that a word?) or violent disagreement.

BOO.




Just some tomfoolery at work. If you look very closely, you'll see my (real) finger sticking out of the jacket sleeve :D

On the Humdrum Stuff of Life

This blog has been more of a punching bag these past few months. Well, it's probably time to actually muster enough brain cells to use this as a journal instead...as in, "a log of the recent events in my life".

The business that we've (my wife and I) been losing sleep over to get started has finally kicked off. Customers have been coming in but it is going to be a bit stressful for me to teach in the evening before going to work at night. Here's hoping it takes off - good start so far. I'm going to be teaching some kids elementary Japanese too. It's funny when I think about it. I feel more responsible, like I'm a full functional adult. Like those busy busy people who have two jobs just to make ends meet.

In fact, I was just teaching this 12-year old boy before I went to work. Lyn had a late afternoon class so I covered for her tonight. The kid's pretty smart, but he's a smart ass too, and impatient to boot. He was basically raring to go home so he tried to breeze through his math homework and other various assignments. And I told myself back when I was still studying that I'd rather not be a teacher since I don't want to deal with impossible kids. So it got me thinking on the way to work: I wonder how I'm gonna deal with Dan when he gets to that age? Well, deal is probably not a good word, maybe handle is more appropriate. One day at a time I guess. That's the mindset I'm trying to adapt these recent days. One day at a time...before you know it, a year, a decade, a good chunk of your life has gone by.

Here I am at work, dragged back into the night shift. Some guys in the managerial position at work tell me I need to go back to night duty to boost my stats, since I'm on the day shift more often. Less calls during the day mean less calls and less utilization (well, as far as our phone client performance monitor tells us, since it doesn't care about the emails you answer). Oh well...hope I can go back to daylight by the time the holidays come around.

That's all for now. I'm gonna update the photo album with some pics I took at the office.

Turn off the lights

Listen to this.


Now scroll down...


































This a voice recorded by Karen Mossey, whom she believes to be that of her dead father. Of course I'm not sure if this is real or not, but if it is....oh man.

Nginiig: The scripted files

What's worse than a run-the-mill, hackeneyed "reality" show? A cheap rip-off of a run-the-mill, hackeneyed "reality" show. A pathetic attempt to imitate its western versions (like scariest places on earth), this show didn't catch my attention at first, but it pissed me off after seeing a couple of episodes.

This is another of ABS-CBN's contribution to the saturated "reality" market. Since I'm sick of these type of shows invading the airwaves, seeing this travesty just makes me all the more sick. Oh, the intensity of raw, shaky footage! Why do people gobble up this stuff? OMFG the night vision makes their eyes look freaky and shit! Oooh, someone is crying, such significance! Just because footage is raw, it doesn't mean you can't edit it to bend the truth, and then package it with this "reality" crap. I appreciated what the Blair Witch Project did (with its own flaws), but the concept has been whored out by the local media giants.

The introductory dialgoue between the three guys at the start and in between the actual program is more fake than Pamela Anderson's enhancements. God, why don't you just whip out the script and read the lines to each other, please. Reality? Riggghhhhhht. And one of those "questors" wearing those geeky emo glasses makes my eye twitch too. His so-called visions are cringe-worthy, to put it lightly. I can't stand to see him get all teary-eyed and nervous when he "senses" a presence, etc.

I've had supernatural experiences myself, and I am open to the fact that there are things that science can't explain. Our world has long been in existence before we came into the picture so there are forces beyond our understanding for now. But, come on, this show reeks of utter phoniness. A big middle finger goes out to the people that came up with this.

Bling-Bling

** ripped off this funny stuff from http://www.negativepositive.org/Things-that-need-to-die.html

I really don't mean to give rap so much attention, but once again, something made my eye twitch enough that I couldn't help myself. There's a video for this 50 Cent collaboration called G-Unit. The song is "Poppin Them Thangs," and yes, I know you're as impressed as I am with that title. Basically the checked box on the Formulaic Rap Video Construction form is C. "I'm a Mob Kingpin, so don't try to step or you'll get smacked down - note how nobody smiles ever - that means WE HARD." Of course, having the ability to rhyme words with other words makes you an unstoppable force in the underworld, able to strike fear in the hearts and command the respect of big time mob bosses. "Holy shit. He can rhyme FOCUS with LOCUST! Oh, man! He's got a big gold medallion... AND IT SPINS! That spinning medallion definitely makes him too HARD for our entire criminal organization to compete with. Don't mess!" There are subtitles at the bottom of the screen showing the dialogue between the various mob bosses. One of them says, "I don't approve of you. You are SHINNING a light into our darkness." Who fucking wrote these subtitles, Groundskeeper Willy? How could such a glaring spelling mistake slip by the hundreds of people who no doubt saw the completed video before its release? Wasn't there even ONE person who saw it and said,"Yo, dawg, dat's dope, yo, werd. But, yo! You misspelled 'shining'"? How could they spend millions on the production of the album and video and then hire some illiterate fuckass to write the subtitles? How? Because obviously all of the people involved in production of the video, especially the artists, ARE RETARDED. I caught the error the very first time I saw the video, and I was only watching it for the same reason I would listen to G. Gordon Liddy or Rush Limbaugh; to know more about what I think is stupid. If you're going to spend assloads of money, put it on MTV and BET and show it to millions of people on probably a half-hourly basis (on the rare occasions that they are actually showing music videos) wouldn't it make sense to proofread it to avoid looking like illiterate fucktards? There's no way you can play it off as the intentional misspelling that rappers always do, either. This isn't "dawgz," this is "SHINNING," I guess meaning "to SHIN." I guess when you're as stupid as G-Unit is anyway, literacy can't help or hurt your image. I wonder how many of their fans even noticed. I guess if you're stupid enough to think G-Unit is really cool, you're stupid enough to miss glaring spelling errors in bold capital letters at the bottom of your TV. In a way, though, I have to say I'm proud of G-Unit for employing people with physical disfigurements. Lloyd Banks proves that even if you have a hare lip and a lazy eye, you can make it as a big time rap star.

Side note: The other options on the Formulaic Rap Video Construction Form are:

A. "Gigantic party at a mansion with lots of money falling from the sky, lots of $200K+ cars parked out front and lots of girls in bikinis. Girl to guy ratio is 5/1. Everyone at the party is rich and black,"

B. "Getting chased by the cops in my Lamborghini talking on the cell phone while a hot chick or the album's producer is driving. Variation: Instead of cops chasing me in a Lamborghini, this could be interchanged with cruising in a Hummer limo and giving everyone 'the vapors,' Same shit, different vibe."

D. "Every girl in the club is mostly naked and very attractive and is so impressed by my jewelry that they're all competing to get to fuck me"

E. "Generic choreographed dance video with amorphous high contrast sets and possibly flood lights arranged to spell out the rapper's name,"

F. "Seemingly pedestrian environment such as a barber shop, diner, car wash, movie theatre, etc. where lots of hot chicks are dumping their boyfriends because my jewelry, car, clothes, etc. are so impressive that they just have to fuck me," G. "Here I am hanging out in a shitty neighborhood. This means I'm true to my roots, despite the fact that I arrived in a limo and will be going to a four star restaurant to eat foie gras and beluga caviar after the video shoot." (Default for all selections: Four or six point star filter used on camera lens in conjunction with bright lighting to make jewelry appear to sparkle blindingly.)

***************************

(I hate) Rappers who continually flaunt their jewelry, cars, cell phones, and women, implying somehow that their wealth is due to being some sort of criminal underworld power figure. Of course you have money! Of course you get laid! You're a multiplatinum MUSICIAN, numbnuts. If you put a potato on-stage in front of 10,000 people, SOMEONE would want to fuck it. Last time I checked, the job title "Musician" didn't make you a tough guy, though I feel myself straining calling someone a musician when their real job title should be "Inarticulate guy with an undeserved large ego who has friends in the music industry and puts on a mean face anytime someone puts a camera in front of him." Big Pun died of a heart attack? GO FIGURE! He was 675 pounds and STILL tried to brag about his sexual prowess. Ahh - money, jewelry, cars, guns, and sluts... what an endless source for creative, inspired music writing. (Insert 6 minutes of repeating unchanging sampled beatloop here).

Rotting away

Reading too much highfiber is going to cost me in many ways. The IT guys here in the office will probably hang me to dry for all the supposedly prohibited browsing I've been doing. And to think that rumors were floating around work concerning what actions would be taken to punish our specific deaprtment for abusing our internet rigths. Hey IT guys, this post is a shining example of it! If it's not allowed, then block the sites you don't want us to go to (I'll proably eat those words sooner than I think). It's keeping me away from work, but there isn't any to be done at the moment (zero emails to answered in the queue). Still, I need to read up on some dusty emails sitting in my inbox which contain info on work-related updates, etc. The dark cloud of night-shift duty casts its obese shadow over me, and I've been so out of touch from the stuff I need to know during those unholy hours.

Now, I'm thinking: what if I actually took my Japanese studies (college course) seriously? What if I actually took the pains to learn the language beyond the basic structures and words (which really mean zilch in an actual conversation with a Japanese person or when trying to watch untranslated anime). I sometimes picutre myself as a fluent practitioner of nihonggo, able to strike up a conversation with a Japanese person. Man, imagine the money I'd be earning for doing cool shit like translating documents, or hanging out with business executives as an interpreter for hire. What could be more impressive than speaking and writing like a native!

But that's just me. I've applied numerous times for the Asia Pacific team here at work so that my work hours would be some thing like 6am-3pm. That way I'd have time to take nihonggo classes in the afternoon and really master my stuff. For all the Japanese history/economy/politics classes I took, I really don't recall much. Just bits and pieces to create the illusion that I'm a cultured fellow that's knowledgeable about such things. If I have any aspirations of actually applying my college course into something remotely lucrative, the language compnent is all I really have to go on. I guess I suffer from the rut of mediocrity that call center people experience, namely stuck in a job that has no relation to the stuff they took up in college.

Someday maybe, someday.

Hey guys,

I just added a nifty new feature to my blog - don't forget to vote.

Bitter,

Marko

Hot, fresh, and unorganized thoughts

Just finished through a bunch of emails - time to kick back and log some overdue brain farts looming in my noggin. Currently trying to reproduce the Incubus concert experience by blasting a live CD in my ears right now (song: Circles). I know the last few entries have been reeking with discontent and neagtivity - but what the hell, that's what this blog is for right?? In light of the recent steam I've been blowing off, here's a to-do list for myself (in no particualr order):

- Stop being so pissed off
- Stop slacking off
- Lose some weight for god's sake

Don't get me wrong, I'm greatful for and appreciate the fact that my mom and dad in law lets me stay at their place while me and Lyn are still striving for total financial independence. At the risk of coming off as an ungreatful bastard, I actually find some things I find a wee bit annoying about the circumstances we're in. Lyn's brothers are nice people I can get along with, honestly. It's their quirks that upset me from time to time, even though I'm not the one directly affected by it.

The second eldest sibling has this grating habit of lying down all the frickin' time. When he gets back from school or somewhere else, he's like a hawk, eyeing the living room bench - waiting for the current occupant to leave....and then, bam! He rests his lazy bones on the couch to hog major butt space. When he gets up in the morning, he leaves his room in a hazy state to go downstairs...and sleep some more in his parent's room. Come on man, get off your ass.

The youngest brother is always out of the house. He's always somewhere else, mostly playing that online game I love to hate: Ragnarok (which by the way is why he's flunking at school). I love video games; I spent a lot of my high school and college days in front of the TV, playing until my eyes would bug out. But there's something about that damn game that's so annoying. When I'm at the nearby Internet cafe, throngs of kids are so crazed about it. I don't get it, and I don't want to get it. That's just me, I guess - counterstrike still rocks, even though all I did most of the time was die at the hands of loudmouth braggart kids laughing at the highest possible volume.

Anyway, he always comes home late and never eats the food mom-in-law prepares...magpapaluto pa siya ng ibang pagkain, usually hotdog. He's basically a spoiled brat when it comes to a lot of things. He's too picky with food for one thing. For instance, we were eating fried pork which he didn't find crispy enough. Then, he looked for some Mang Tomas to make up for the said lack of crispiness. The bottle was something like near empty, but you could certainly get a good amount for one serving. He wouldn't have any of it and said in a whiny voice "ayoko na nga...". Mom-in-law proceeded to go next door (they have a duplex type of setup where her sister lives beside us) to get another bottle filled with more of the brown pork sauce.

And when he hasn't arrived by dinnertime, mom-in-law sets aside a portion of food just for bunso after cooking...I don't see her do that for her other two offsprings. Dammit, the guy's already in college for pete's sake. And when he decides to grace us with his presence, mom-in-law sets the plate and utensils for him. Fuck man, you're 18 years old for chrissakes - fix your own plate for the love of god. Annoying, really annoying. When he comes home from school, he'll just dress up to go out again, and come home god-knows-what time.

The special youngest one also was upset because his parents didn't by him a cell phone as promised earlier; money was tight at the time. In an act of rebellion, he flunked all of his subjects in one term. So mom-in-law bought him his precious little camera phone, but whaddaya know, HE STILL FLUNKED HIS SUBJECTS. Puro laboy at ragnarok kasi.

Yeah, it's none of my business, so I don't say anything at home. But when I see stuff like that, I can't help but be irritated.

Me, me, me, me

I've been stressed these past few weeks, so pardon my fucking french. My potty mouth can be blamed on the crap I have to deal with everyday.

I need to blow a few things off my chest. First, money. It's always about money. I thought I could stand not having any of it for extended periods of time (2 weeks), but I'm only human. I can't blame myself if I get weary of lacking that mundane necessity. I know it's just a piece of paper, but goddammit, it really gnaws away at my patience sometimes.

Next, that piece of crap that's supposed to save me from heat exhaustion while driving in the sweltering tropical hell of this country: the car's airconditioner. For this year, I've taken the car to the repair shop several times to have that cursed piece of equipment fixed. It's finding new reasons not to work. If it's not the compressor, it's the pressure switch (so I've been told)....or sometimes, it's the freakin' fuse that conks out. Come on, WTF is up with that?? I am by no means a rich person. I can't afford to have the piece of shit fixed everytime it decides to piss me off and have a tantrum. There was one time it was so hot on the way to work, that I ended up having a fever (trankaso) that night. Imagine how it feels to come in the sub-zero office straight from the extreme heat outside. Picture yourself spending an hour in a sauna then walking into a cold room right after.


Third, the traffic in my area. I'm beginning to hate the City of Rizal for its roads. They're always digging up a HUGE chunk of the street for no apparent reason. Once they're done with whatever the hell they did, the road is left for dead, at the expense of the motorists who have to pass there. The street is literally turned into an obstacle course of potholes the moon would be proud of. It's a waste of OUR taxes. The roads don't look wider or smoother. In fact, it looks shittier than it was before. Not to mention it takes them forever to finish their "road work". The conspiracy theorist voice in my head tells me that they drag out the so-called project as long as they can to jack up the hours, and hence they get paid more. Not only that, the substandard materials they use to patch up the roads literally disentegrate overnight after a strong downpour. It's like they're using oreo cookie crumble instead of ashpalt. I guess the cheaper the stuff they use, the more change they can stuff their own pockets with. The people responsible for this travesty should be punished medieval style: drag them with horses over those broken roads.

Well, that's it for now. I'm sure I'll think of other things to bitch about soon.

Seeing Red

What's the fastest way to empty your bank account? Simple, withdraw from a fucked up ATM. I inputted the amount to be withdrawn (which happened to be everything left in my account) and hit "OK", then the machine gave me the cheerful message:

THIS MACHINE IS TEMPORARILY UNAVAILABLE - PLEASE TRY ANOTHER TERMINAL

I reported this to the branch manager who had the gall to blame my bank's system (my card is Equitable PCI, but they're a different megalink bank) for my loss. Excuse me bitch, but it was YOUR ATM that wigged the fuck out didn't it??

So the hag made a few calls and whoopee-de-do, the ATM came back to life. Of course the amount I withdrew is now gone. Needless to say, I gave the bitch a mouthful (in English, I might add, which she sadly couldn't keep up with). To no avail though - for all my anger, all I could do was fill out a complaint form, which she says will supposedly get my money back within today. "Supposedly?!?" I asked. "I have nothing to go on for the next 2 weeks." She then rephrased her statement assuring me the goddamn money will be back within today.

Maybe since I'm in the call center business, I'm overly critical of customer service that I'm given. But she had no sympathy whatsoever - hell, I probably wouldn't care myself if I was in her shoes. But come on, not even fake empathy? That blows big time.

So here I am at work, with no money or food to last me the day. Not to mention the car airconditioner is flaking out again, which is literally hell driving to the office at high noon. If I were Bruce Banner, I would've torn that place apart.

For Old Time's Sake

Whoever said that you're lucky if you have 5 close friends by the time you're old was right. Last weekend was a painful reminder of that. I met up with some classmates from college for lunch at Makati last Saturday. It felt like before, as if no time had passed since we last met - although I was embarassed to walk in 1 1/2 hours late (came from a wedding in Antipolo).

The same jokes, banter and laughter was there. It would have been ok, except that there were two guys from my block that, by the time we graduated, I was on bad (non-speaking) terms with. The rift occured approximately the same time with both of these guys, whom I shall name B1 and B2 respectively, sometime during our senior year. They were both good friends that I used to hang out with, until they were pissed at me for different reasons and decided to consolidate their rage towards me.

Now fast foward to a few years later: there I was, having lunch with them as if nothing happened between us. B2 greeted me with a "pare" and a buddy-buddy high-five as I sat down, and again when I settled into my seat. B1 was sitting a few seats away from me, but greeted me just the same (sans the high-five). It was surreal to be in their company once again after all the issues and years that passed between us. I dryly mentioned what work I was doing now, and showed some pictures of my son stored in my digital camera. They were swapping stories and teasing each other usual, with me as the quiet one commenting occasionally. I was comfortable with this kind of thing back at our tambayan, but now it's different since I was silent because of how surreal and awkward things were. It should have been a fun time, catching up on the latest stuff about my friends, but sad to say, it was a tense and complex affair for me. I bet B1 and B2 saw how sad and uneasy my downcast expression was.

I don't get it. Are they thinking that they've "found it in their hearts" to forgive me? Or they honestly just decided to let bygones be bygones? I remember back in college when I tried to talk to both of them about the ever-growing gap between us. I honestly tried to salvage our friendship by opening a dialogue between us. The thing is B1 was my thesis partner who did have the right to get mad at me for slacking off big time. I've since then made the necessary amends and have done everything, short of cutting off my pinky yakuza style to let him know I was sorry. I even wrote him a letter telling him that I didn't want to lose our friendship over something like that. A goddamn letter. Shit, you only do that crap for your girlfriend. But oh no, he wouldn't have any of that. The guy even called me garbage behind my back, the nerve.

And for B2? Well, he had entirely different and invalid reasons for getting mad - at least the reasons I heard from other people. He never had the guts to tell me himself. I'd rather not get into the details of why he was upset, but take my word for it, it was silly and childish.

Of course being the spineless twit that I am, I never brought up the pent-up feelings I had during that lunch. I was afraid to ruin the occasion, considering that we (the rest of my blockmates) never get together at all. Seeing them happy and chattering cheerfully, I painfully felt out of place trying to grasp the weirdness of the situation. If B1 and B2 can act normal about it, I can't. Not at least until we clear the air about our past diffrences. The fact of the matter is, they left me out to dry back then. Tangina nila, tinabla nila ako...iniwan sa ako ere.

The last half of my college days were not happy ones, as far as the ones I could remember. It was not only a low point of my undergraduate life, but my life in general. Where the hell were they when I was down in the dumps? Acting like coy motherfuckers, snickering behind my back. What kind of friend would do that to you? I have a lot of hang-ups from that time I guess, and they were part of that.

As it stands, we can be civil with each other as from what I saw last Saturday. But friends again? That remains to be seen. Should I try yet again to get them to open up and talk about what happened? Or would that be another pandora's box for my sanity, and leave things as they are?

I shouldn't have come. I could've spent time with my wife or son instead. Read a book. Watched a movie. Anything else.

Food for the soul

Slipknot is a band I can't love or hate totally - it's like walking on a tightrope and falling on either side occasionally. When I first heard "Wait and Bleed", I dismissed them as trivial and made only to shock people. Like Marilyn Manson I thought, who will lead you to madness if taken seriously. Come on, they're wearing masks for crying out loud.

But there is something about their music (although some would use that term loosely for this band) that keeps me coming back for more. Their more radio-freindly singles aired on NU have always caught my ear. It is refreshing in a way to listen to rock that has a sense of chaos. Most of the stuff I listen to doesn't have the same anger and rage that proliferates in songs like "People = Shit", or "Heretic Anthem". My friend who's into Dimmu Borgir, Cradle of Filth and the like, got me back into Slipknot after lending me some Revolver magazines with articles about them. Browsing through some of the stuff about the band helped me see the madness behind the music so to speak. I've been giving a good listen to the 2001 album Iowa (a co-worker's CD) at the office these past few weeks. I honestly can't get into a lot of their songs, but after watching some of their concert footage, I can appreciate what they're trying to do: pushing the envelope and see how far they can go in exploring the dark side of rock.

So how can I make sense of what they're all about (in my own opinion), why they do what they do? Well, I remember the Japanese concept of compartmentalization that my college professor used to talk about in class. Basically, the Japanese tend to group the different aspects of their life (and respective people in it) into separate "compartments". This means that the "contents" of these compartments will never mingle with each other. For instance, a housewife may have a group of friends from work that she socializes with, but will never meet her husband. Another good example of this concept is a true story of a Japnese man in a relationship with a Filipina. He also has affairs with other women, much to the grief of the the Filipina. Trying to make sense of why the guy was doing that to her, the girl told her story to my professor. My Prof simply explained : "He truly loves you, if that's what you want to know. But you see, you're only one of his many compartments..."

So what the hell does this have to do with a band that has nine members, trying to make as much noise as possible? My theory is that everything that comes with their music goes into one compartment. The things that go with the Slipknot sound fall into some sort of alter-ego that exists as an outlet for all the emotions harvested from the negatvity of real life. Why else would they wear masks? For me that symbolizes their darker selves that want to vent out the madness within (although they say the masks are meant to take the focus away from themselves and divert it to their music instead). Essentially, it's a coampartment that is meant to release all those pent-up feelings and process it into a cathartic, primal scream.

But whatever, you know...that's just my opinion. That's the best way I can reconcile their stuff with my specific preferences for music.

The Home of New Rock

The perfect way to end an exhausting day is to arrive late at the office and work throughout the wee hours of the night. And come in tardy on the second day of the month to boot. I still need to readjust my body clock to U.S. hours, and probably lose my sanity in the process.

There's this new show on NU 107 that I find questionable. It's something like an hour dedicated to letting the public know how great Ateneo is (oh I'm sorry, I meant the Ateneo). Don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those overzealous alumni that feels the need to be hostile towards other universities. In fact, I would feel the same if La Salle (my school) did the same show on NU. I don't feel this fierce loyalty towards my school (although I am proud that my folks were able to send me there) and, I don't give two shits about college basketball and the rivalry that comes with the game. I am totally neutral towards these kind of things, and absolutely have no opinion about the topic. It's just a total waste of brain cells and time for me.

What burns me up is that a rock station is being used as a platform to proclaim how wonderful their damn school is. I guess I'm just biased towards school sports in general, but come on, I just can't reconcile their program with the radio station. It has nothing to do with music...it's just a bunch of Ateneo alumni talking in thick cono accents telling everyone over the air how awesome their school is at basketball. Can you really base the value of a school on how much or how well a bunch of guys can put a ball through a hoop? Seriously....they need to get that damn show off the air. It's sickening, repugnant, and nauseating. I thought I left that crap back in college...now it's back to pollute NU's airwaves (along with feeling-cool Mondo's between planets). Who the hell came up with this shit?? Maybe it's the stattion owner Atom Henares, whom I think might be Atenean.

Whatever the case, this "I'm so cool being on the air and you should shudder at how much of a mover and shaker I am in the upper crust of society" kind of crap should stop. Please. It's just going to alienate the rest of the listeners who didn't study at Ateneo.

Money Matters

A lot of things are getting me down today, mostly financially related. Sometimes I wish we could live in a Star Trek-like type of society where we don't need money at all and focus on the other things in life.

The credit card bill is knocking on my door once again. Good thing I got a cash incentive at work (for sticking around this long), which sadly seems destined to settle the plastic debt. Other obligations include the phone bill, milk/diapers, and the nanny's wages.

The car aircon is also acting up (i.e. not cold on a f@#$!ng hot day) hence the inevitable costly check up/repair. What sucks is that it might be related to the scrap metal mishap I had earlier this month. My mom-in-law said she saw something dripping under the car. Could it be a freon leak? Or is freon a gas...? Forgive my ignorance about these kind of things.  I could ask my Dad to help out on the maintenance for the mehcanical beast of burden.

I was telling my friend in the U.S. about my problems (thank you IM)...and he told me, "chin up" (probably referring to that line from SpiderMan 2). Which reminds me that I didn't post any comments yet about the movie, which I loved. I've always loved Peter Parker's character (in and out of costume) because his everyday problems, coupled with his "other" duties, would have broken a lesser man. That's something that I really admire in him - and serves as an inspiration to me as well.

Well, at this point, I could use a smoke, but I'm still sick. And sick is costly too, when translated into medicine. Lemme tell ya, at this point in my life, it sucks to be sick. You can't do the things you need to do when you're not physically well. Bawal magkasakit. 

Sick As Hell
 
That's what it feels like right now. As I'm typing this, my sinuses are clogged, my head is pounding, and it feels like my skull is going to crack open with every agonizing, phelgm-induced cough. Speaking of phlegm, the mucolytic I've been taking hasn't helped that much as every cough is nothing but pain. I can feel it holding steady in the depths of my chest each and the little bit of mucous that does come out sets my lungs on fire. Quite graphic, eh? Today's griping is not for the squeamish.

I've been coming to work sick these past few days, and I'm not getting any better. I can't come to work tomorrow; if I did, I'd be useless on the floor. Unless our customers want to speak to a coughing, wheezing agent that is the virtual picture of death.
 

We finally got a yaya, but she's not that good yet. She seems nice enough though - came recommended by our friend who went home to Bacolod for a while. She's our friend's neighbor there, actually, so when they came back, they brought her along.

We still need to instruct her in the fine art of changing diapers, preparing milk, and lulling the little one to sleep. For now her duties are limited to doing the laundry, ironing, and carrying the baby.

I remember a line from Riding in Cars With Boys where one mom said, "if we actutally felt how much we loved our kids, it would kill us". How true. When I'm at work, I can't bear the thought of not being with Dan, looking at his picture on my workstation. Lyn bought a nursery rhyme audio cassette for him that features this song that struck a nerve:

Listening and learning
With fun games to play and sing
I am learning everyday when i sing along and play
songs that help me think and learn and grow

Learning and listening
To songs that are fun to sing
There's so much to do and see
Come and sing along with me
Music helps me learn things, I should know
Now watch me grow

*Instrumental*

The masters of classroom songs
Chopin, Beethoven, Mozart, Gogh
My IQ is on the rise, with nursery rhymes and lullabyes
The great composers help my mind to grow

Listening and learning
With fun games to play and sing Iam learning everyday
When i sing along and play
Songs that help me think and learn and grow
Now watch me grow

The "watch me grow" part really pulled some heart strings. I felt as if Dan was singing the song to me. He's such a fragile little work of art; holding him in my arms triggers this side of me I never knew existed, or wasn't there before. I see a bit of myself in him, and see a bit of myself in my father at the same time. In my young life, this is such a strange revelation. I tried to anticipate all the cliches that come with fatherhood, but you honestly never know what it's like until you're there. Never.

So with that, I bid farewell for now: many emails to answer, and some other tasks to attend to.

Samus Aran will save us all

Memories of my childhood are punctuated with the greatest invention known to modern man: the Family Computer (known as the NES in western countries). Pathetic, I know. But come on, the classic games evoke a unique atmosphere of nostalgia. I cherish memories of staying up until 3am to beat the last boss in Megaman, Ninja Gaiden, etc. You might think it's just an indication of a sedentary lifestyle, but playing video games served as a common ground to meet other people. Yes, swapping war stories and game secrets helped foster bonds of friendship for me. A hobby that kept me off drugs (not that I was ever curious) can't be bad. I've been playing the old stuff lately, and let me tell you, it takes me back to many years ago. Braving the first level of Castlevania or Contra brought back memories of sharing good times with my buddies. It's a catalyst for the past, y'see...seeing the lo-res graphics, hearing the 8-bit music...

And that brings me to the point of this whole entry. I was searching the mighty Google for some MIDI music files for game Metroid today, and I found something better:

www.metroidmetal.com

If you ever played this game as a kid, you will know what kind of gold I struck upon. These are heavy metal interpretations of the game's music. Hearing the opening theme was geeky and heavy at the same time. This lead me to search for other rock versions of video game soundtracks...and lo and behold, this is what I found:

http://www.soundclick.com/bands/9/neskimosmusic.htm

http://minibosses.com/

http://www.grant-henry.com/mp3/vomitron_contra.mp3

Don't take my word for it. Have a listen and see what it does for you (if you're into this stuff).

New month, new thoughts, new experiences.

Take for example one night last week when the car dragged a piece of what seemed to be scrap metal along the road. Lyn pointed it out and I just let it pass under nonchalantly, thinking it was just a wayward plastic bag along the road (it was dark, ok?). The horrible, sickening, grinding sound of metal against metal against ashpalt (that would be the car, piece of metal, and the road) proved me oh so very wrong. The scrap got caught somewhere in the underside of the car for about a few meters and let go after. To the best of my memory, the whole mishap took place in a span on 5-10 seconds - but of course the ordeal seemed longer. I have yet to have it checked although everything seems to be fine: brakes feel the same, gas is ok (not leaking, but the car does have an inaccurate gauge), steering ok. Sorry Dad, I didn't mean to really. Tang'na, si Pamatong siguro yung may gawa nun, hayup na yun.

I was also thinking of submitting articles to magazines to supplment my income. My older sis was at ABS-CBN publishing before so I'll be using her connections to get my foot in the door...well maybe not exactly. She asked me to submit some samples of my work so she can show 'em to her contacts. Which I don't have of course. I could give the URL of this blog, but it's a bit personal. Or I could write something along the lines of being a new dad, or something related to that since My sis used to work for a parenting magazine. Ideas, anyone??

*sound of crickets chirping*

Ahhh...what else? Damn, I'm drawing a blank already. That's why it took me so long to post here again. Just at a time when I was thinking of doing writing on the side.

The Simple Joys in Life

Sometimes I'm afraid of posting deeply personal (but non self-incriminatory) thoughts on the web. I feel that if I share it online, it diminishes its value and meaning - doesn't an event/memory/feeling/revelation seem so infintiely special when it stays inside your own head? What I'm saying is that you risk rendering a thought (that you hold dear) useless when you actually put it into words rather than keep it in your heart. For instance, take this piece of dialogue from the movie Gladiator:

MAXIMUS: They fought for YOU and for Rome.

MARCUS: And what is Rome, Maximus?

MAXIMUS: I have seen much of the rest of the world. It is brutal and cruel and dark. Rome is the light.

MARCUS: Yet you have never been there. You have not seen what it has become. I am dying, Maximus. When a man sees his end he wants to know that there has been some purpose to his life. How will the world speak my name in years to come? Will I be known as the philosopher, the warrior, the tyrant. Or will I be the Emperor who gave Rome back her true self? There was once a dream that was Rome, you could only whisper it. [With a snap of his finger.] Anything more than a whisper and it would vanish. It was so fragile and I fear that it will not survive the winter.

The mind can be such a wondeful place to keep your thoughts in - it has no boundaries or limits in which you can replay it over and over; and it remains forever pure and unscathed from crticism or scrutiny by others.

Here's one of the simple things in life that make me happy: Watching (and singing along to) Dora the Explorer with Pauline beside me and Dan (our precious pudgy bundle of happiness) sitting on my lap.

Resist and Multiply

I always thought that the song Vitamin should have been in the Matrix soundtrack. It's as if the lyrics were about someone who woke up and is speaking to, no, defying the machines:

I'm born
I'm alive
I breathe
In a moment or two I realize,
that the sphere upon which I reside,
is asleep on its feet.

should I go back to sleep?
We orbit the sun
I grow up
my open eyes see...

A zombified, somnambulist society.
Leaving us as vitamins
for the hibernating human animal.

Do you see what I mean?
You stare at me like a vitamin
On the surface you hate,
but you know you need me.

I'll come dressed as any pill you deem fit.
Whatever helps you swallow truth
all the more easily.

And I wonder, will you digest me?
Into the sleep machine I won't plug in,
in fact I'd rather die before I will comply.
To you, my friend,
I write the reason I still live,
'cause in my mind it's set the vitamin is ripe to give

Coming closer to another 2000 years
you and I will pry
the closed eye of the sleep machine

That's me in the corner

You can file this under 'heretic'. If someone would ask me if I believe in god, I would reply 'yes'. But...my faith in that being has rapidly diminished after some events past. Yes, I do believe that there are things in this world that science can't explain, and a supreme, sentient entity maybe one of them. But it doesn't necessarily mean that he/she/it should care about us.

I feel that I need to take it upon myself to make my life work, and not waste time praying, because from what I can see, it hasn't really done anything for me. It's been more apparent that it's nothing but a psychological crutch I can do away with. Anything I've done to improve my life is credited to my own efforts, and not anyone else. Why is it that if something good happens, it's by *his* doing? And when it hits the fan, *he* can wash his hands clean of it? It violates the good samaritan principle by just standing by and watch it go bad for all of us.

It scares me to think that anyone I knew would think less of me after reading this. I'll still be same person, one who chooses to live a moral life and not step on anyone's toes...just like before, but god is out of the picture.

This whole thing reminds of a scene from the film 'Contact':

PALMER:
Dr. Arroway. Would you consider yourself a spiritual person?

ELLIE:
I don't really understand the point of the question. I consider myself a moral person.

CHAIRWOMAN:
I'm sure we all agree that is the case, but I think what Mr. Joss is in fact asking is...

PALMER:
Do you believe in God, Dr. Arroway?

ELLIE:
As a scientist I rely on imperical evidence, and in this matter, I don't believe that there is data either way.

CHAIRWOMAN:
So your answer would in fact be that you don't believe in God?

ELLIE:
I - I just don't understand the relevance of the question.

Insert Title Here

The parents and the youngest sibling left for Bangkok today. It'll be several months before I see Dad again (his work is based there) - while Mom and Sis are just on vacation for a few days or so.

I'm torn apart between missing Dad and enjoying the use of his car while he's away. I feel guilty that he has to use his other car, which is a bulok Kia Ceres (that has no aircon) when he's here. What's a good offspring to do? Just go with the flow I guess...I mean, he understands that I need his car nowadays in case I need to take Lyn or Dan to the doctor/somewhere else.

It was great that we had dinner with (most of) the family, including Dad, and running into some co-workers as well. I got to show off our precious baby boy in all his cute/handsome glory!

On to to other things, there's this restlessness that's been gnawing at my peace of mind for the longest time. It's this this feeling of hitting a dead end in this stage of my young life (I feel so old even though I've only been in existence for nearly a quarter of a century). Me and Lyn long for more financial and household stability - what I mean is that we haven't been making steady progress towards establishing a better life for our small family. While she's stuck at home to look after the baby and me just earning enough to make ends meet (and not left with any savings), this is stagnant to me.

We need a nanny to take care of Dan so that Lyn can work/study. She applied for post-graduate studies so she can teach after. Being a teacher has its benefits, so I've learned. It'll be easier on the pocket for a teacher to send his/her kid to same school where they work at. Maybe when she starts working, we can rent a place of our own...and don't even get me started on the price for pre-school alone...the anticipation is killing me, and I don't mean that in a good way.

This is my life. I am many things to many people: A husband, father, son(in-law), brother(in-law), co-worker, classmate, friend, nuisance, cause of pain, etc.

So this nice woman calls me 3 times (couldn't do the troubleshooting steps I gave since her MAC was having issues) because her software isn't launching. On the third call, she finally got it to work.

"At this point, I would like to speak to your manager for the wonderful help you've been"

Yeah, I guess I have my moments....

Drone of the Digital Empire

Having worked almost two years in this specific call center account, I guess it's not possible to avoid any work-related tussles (which might be an overstatement) with fellow reps. Anyways, I was able to air my side about the whole thing, and I feel that I was able to do my job even if it wasn't absolutely by the book. What remains to be seen is if we can still remain in good terms after this. Honestly, the whole thing upset me, but if they're willing to let me know their own side, then I'm all for it...I can personally let them know my two cents worth as well. I mean work's just work right?

This ditty is a bit personal so my apologies to anyone who might not be able to follow my train of thought, since it's so vague and all that.

I think I need to take this test again...

Disorder	Rating
Paranoid:	Low
Schizoid:	Low
Schizotypal:	Moderate
Antisocial:	Low
Borderline:	Very High
Histrionic:	Moderate
Narcissistic:	Moderate
Avoidant:	High
Dependent:	High
Obsessive-Compulsive:	Moderate
-- Personality Disorder Test - Take It! --

Greetings from Dagobah

It's just one of those days when you just want to curl up in a secluded corner and sleep to the point of hibernation. The cold climate in the office is making me all the more anti-social today. Don't get me wrong, having a job is something I appreciate, knowing that other people don't have the means to support themselves (even if they wanted to). But today, I don't have a burning desire to compete with my co-workers to become employee of the month or anything like that. I just want to get it over with and go home...is that so bad? If everyone is raring to emulate Spongebob at the Krusty Krab, then you can cast me as Squidward, behind the cash register, waiting for the work day to end.

In all honesty, there are days when I am enthusiastic to help people out over the phone. But today, my empathic tone will be a synthesized replication of my better self (confused? we'll just leave it at that). Not that I'll let the quality of my calls suffer, but I could care less if the guy on the other line is having a computer crash/virus/meltdown etc. I'll just do what I have to do to help him.

Why not try and Make Yourself

Ok, so it took me a while to write more about the Incubus concert. I was doing a bit of google hunting for the "Pantomime" mp3 (which was part of their set) and I came across this Brazilian fan blog (http://www.incubuscometobrazil.blogger.com.br/). Here's an accurate list of the songs that they played, and in the proper order too:

01. Megalomaniac
02. A Crow Left of The Murder
03. Warning
04. Consequence
05. Idiot Box
06. Just A Phase (Brandon na guitarra)
07. Priceless (Brandon na guitarra)
08. Wish You Were Here
09. Pantomime (Brandon na guitarra)
10. Here In My Room (Brandon na guitarra)
11. Drive
12. Pistola
13. Circles
14. Vitamin
15. Clean
16. Talk Shows On Mute
17. Magic Medicine
18. Certain Shade Of Green
19. Sick Sad Little World

**encore:
20. Are You In?
21. Pardon Me

It was a very welcome surprise that Brandon played guitar on some songs, which I've never seen in any of their videos before. He was like "I'm checking if this in tune....hey Mike, is this in tune? Oh it is in tune, I'm just weird, sorry " (that isn't verbatim). He started playing a song, and my mind was quickly trying to figure out what song it was...I drew a blank. It turns out that it was a little-known (on our side of the world anyway) song called "Pantomime". What a treat it was indeed. The site I mentioned also had the song list of the other concerts from their Asian tour. It's pretty much the same with a few variations, and all opened with "Megalomaniac". It makes sense since their tour is named after their latest album.

I was singning along to all of the songs - is that geeky or what? I was so glad that Ben took the effort to learn the old songs, and play them well. I thought I'd never hear them play "A Certain Shade of Green" or "Idiot Box". We were close to the speakers which made my ears ring a bit after, but damn, it was worth it.

My biggest regret was that I didn't bring my camera. We asked beforehand if we could bring it, but the guy on the phone said no. Well, when the show started, the people beside me were gleefully taking snapshots of the band playing as well as themselves. Security wasn't so tight about that after all. I should've just taken my chances and brought my cam along.

They ended the set with "Sick sad, little world". After the song, Brandon said "thanks y'all, well see you real soon". With those words, my heart sunk knowing that they probably won't be coming back. As they exited the stage, the crowd started chanting "more, more!", and singing the "ooooh-hoooooh-hooo" part of "Are you In?". Being the gracious dudes that they were, they came back and played two more songs. Sure enough it was "Are you In?" and then the excellent "Pardon Me".

Seeing Incubus actually get up on stage and play their instruments added another dimension of my respect for the band. The whole experience underscored the fact that they're real people playing music, and not some manufactured group put together. I recall NU 107 DJ /The Dawn guitar man Francis say that it's important to see past the marketing and really listen to the music. Well, I had the wonderful chance to connect to their music and jump past the hype and packaging. This just occured to when I saw a poster advertising the event after we left the area. Strip away the whole marketing machinery, and all you're left with is the music.

The primary thing that they do is play their music, but they also have to show up for endless photo shoots as well, as part of the whole media vehicle to promote them. I guess it comes with territory.