The first four paragraphs of this entry has been written on Oct15, the rest on Dec05.
it's been a while since i've last lived in the national capital region. i spent three great years in UP diliman where i should have been studying computer science but instead studied life. instead of reading my course materials, i chose to glean trivia from people. instead of attending classes, i chose to immerse my self in the complicated society man and all those crap. it's actually a nice way of saying i totally 'unstudied' in UP.
You might expect a sad, tragic ending but it actually ended relatively well. I finished computer science in a school in Davao and I'm now a very successful programmer of high tech softwares and rich beyond anyone's wildest dreams. I live in a three (3) storey house with a yacht in the lake in the backyard. I own and manage an all-girls highschool and have hundreds of call girls working for my call center. By the way, did I mention I'm mildy delusional?
But that is not the point of this blog today.
I'm back in manila and not in the comforts of the UP campus which I once called home. I'm here to find a job despite my delusional success. And despite owning an imagined black cutting-edge techonology black car with *insert cool sounding car accessory here* and shiny new *another exotic car part here* which runs on distilled water, I chose to travel by mass transit vehicles from tricycle to jeep to bus to mrt.
*Dec05 Update*
Delusions aside, I actually found a job. I now work still a programmer but this time for a bank (I'm not sure if its legal to state where I work, but I read blogs of employees getting the sacked after they squealed stuff about their employers. And I'm not about to bite the hand that feeds me, or at least not until I win the mega-lotto draw). According to the job offer, I would be handling atm transactions. That is what I tell people if ever they ask me what I do. But if they care for more details, this is what I tell them:
The 'programmer' of atm transactions is the operator of an atm unit. The operator 'works' inside the atm. You may fancy the blue screen interface and buttons of an atm, but it's actually manual operations inside with the 'programmer' manually counting the bills for your 1,000 withdrawal then type and print the receipt. I always wondered why the bank made sure during the phone interview that I'm below 5'7" and below 80kgs, it made sense because they have to make sure I'll fit inside. And if you ever seen those slim and small atms, think midget programmers. I also use to complain whenever atms go offline, but not any more. An offline atm means the programmer's snack/lunch/restroom break.
With this new understanding of atms and bank atm transaction programmers, go and treat atms with new found respect. And after every successfull withdrawal, whisper thanks thru the money chute.
Go ahead, we can hear you...
Monday, December 5
Tuesday, October 4
Welcome Back Ronald!
Yes I am back! It has been 4 months since I last wrote here, 3 months since I last visited here, 2 months since I last kicked a soccer ball and 1 month since I had work.
The reason for the my abrupt stop of blogging will be forever be kept a secret. This goes the same for the sudden return of the comeback, or at least until I run out of things to write.
Well, I just dropped by to say hi to my imaginary but avid readers. During the last time I visit, the counter read around 700. Since it now reads around 1000, I just have to say hi.
HI!
So there, will be blogging soon... :-)
The reason for the my abrupt stop of blogging will be forever be kept a secret. This goes the same for the sudden return of the comeback, or at least until I run out of things to write.
Well, I just dropped by to say hi to my imaginary but avid readers. During the last time I visit, the counter read around 700. Since it now reads around 1000, I just have to say hi.
HI!
So there, will be blogging soon... :-)
Saturday, June 4
Part 2: Body Massage
Episode 3: Revenge of the Sith is said to be the blockbuster movie of the year. The rumored amount George Lucas will earn this year inspired me to blog again in the hope that this entry will gain recognition as the blockbuster blog entry of 2005 (And consequently earn as much money too).
Before anything else, I would like to say sorry to the regular readers (imagined or otherwise but mostly imagined) for not updating this blog regularly. I have reasons! I actually had a life beyond computers. I went up Mount Apo during the holy week (expect a blog entry, and if my friend Jonas did not pull them out, you can find photos here), went to 'tourist' spots near davao with my officemates/superfriends, and I had a major transition from work to no work (Read: I resigned). I just realized it was the boredom from work which pushed me to write back then. Another realization: boredom from no work is pushing me now to write again. Realization 1 + realization 2 = conclusion. And the conclusion is that while boredome leads to nowhere, nowhere leads ronald to blog writing.
And since I disappointed my imaginary readers with the long absence, let me appoint (word treated as opposite of disappoint) you this time with the exciting middle part of my body massage trilogy. For the first time readers (dream on fool that people actually read this crap), I made a totally new way of seqencing stories. I advise you to read Part1, then Part3, then finally this entry. If Lucas did Starwars 4,5,6 then 1,2,3, I did mine with 1,3,2. Plus, the time this actually happened occured aeons ago. Which means, most parts of this entry are only imagined but due to memory interference of time, imagined events are actually believed by me to be as the actual experience.
After you have read Part1 then Part3, in that order, may I present, drum rolls please...
* * * *
We then entered the dimly-lighted place some may call a massage parlor, and we were greeted by a nice, old lady (I'm actually not sure if she's really old, could be just bad lighting and bad make-up but she's definitely nice). The lady handed us a list of services they offer. I nervously scanned the list expecting entries like 'hardcore sex with 2 females,' 'lesbian action,' 'self-service,' 'sex with animal of choice (depends on availability),' 'watch dog and donkey action,' and other not so moral services due to the bad rap massage parlor gets. As much as I would deny that I actually looked forward to such services, none of those kind were offered.
We, (Narven, Jonah and I) chose the whole body massage service with scented oil not asking if the presence of an underwear is important. One of us do not have one on, me. But we want massage now and we're getting it.
We were then led inside and saw beds lined up, 2 feet apart with curtains as dividers. The aroma in the air and the dim lights elude an aura of relaxation. We were given small towels and asked by our individual massuers to remove our clothing and accessories and lie face down on the beds. A restroom was available for the removal and clothes which I quickly went into. I removed the clothes I have on (only 2 pieces, my shirt and pants), and tightly, I repeat, tightly put the towel around my waist. Then i lied face down on the bed waiting for the massage experience.
I heard the staff door opened and saw my massuer walk towards me. Immediately, an interesting scent filled the air. A scent you know that's pheromonic in nature. The lack of light allowed me to see only her silhoutte. She was of ample proportions. Her hair short and flirtly curled around her ears. Her eyes shining in the dark short of telling me, be ready boy. Her hands slowly moved, arranging her nurse-like outfit to show less flesh. So white, so pure. Then she slowly unbuttoned her blouse on the pretense of the warm night. She only unbuttoned one, but that was enough to imagine what she's got there.
So what do you think? Do I show potential as a writer of imaginative erotic stories? Do I have enough raw talent to write for Xerex?
Let me continue with the real story right before we were randily interrupted by my overactive imagination, so there, three programmers lying face down with nothing on except the mandatory underwear and towel around the waist, on three adjacent beds, with three lady masseurs on their right side, carefully warming the oil with their hands. One programmer much closer to being naked.
This is it. I expected a warm hand to massage my back but the first physical sensation I felt was a forceful tugging off of the towel (I told you it was on real tight). And there's no stopping her.
She got it off.
Time stood still.
* * * *
I don't want to cut your reading pleasure short but I felt even a bit more creative (Read: Got tired) and decided that there will be a body massage story part 2.5.
Before anything else, I would like to say sorry to the regular readers (imagined or otherwise but mostly imagined) for not updating this blog regularly. I have reasons! I actually had a life beyond computers. I went up Mount Apo during the holy week (expect a blog entry, and if my friend Jonas did not pull them out, you can find photos here), went to 'tourist' spots near davao with my officemates/superfriends, and I had a major transition from work to no work (Read: I resigned). I just realized it was the boredom from work which pushed me to write back then. Another realization: boredom from no work is pushing me now to write again. Realization 1 + realization 2 = conclusion. And the conclusion is that while boredome leads to nowhere, nowhere leads ronald to blog writing.
And since I disappointed my imaginary readers with the long absence, let me appoint (word treated as opposite of disappoint) you this time with the exciting middle part of my body massage trilogy. For the first time readers (dream on fool that people actually read this crap), I made a totally new way of seqencing stories. I advise you to read Part1, then Part3, then finally this entry. If Lucas did Starwars 4,5,6 then 1,2,3, I did mine with 1,3,2. Plus, the time this actually happened occured aeons ago. Which means, most parts of this entry are only imagined but due to memory interference of time, imagined events are actually believed by me to be as the actual experience.
After you have read Part1 then Part3, in that order, may I present, drum rolls please...
* * * *
We then entered the dimly-lighted place some may call a massage parlor, and we were greeted by a nice, old lady (I'm actually not sure if she's really old, could be just bad lighting and bad make-up but she's definitely nice). The lady handed us a list of services they offer. I nervously scanned the list expecting entries like 'hardcore sex with 2 females,' 'lesbian action,' 'self-service,' 'sex with animal of choice (depends on availability),' 'watch dog and donkey action,' and other not so moral services due to the bad rap massage parlor gets. As much as I would deny that I actually looked forward to such services, none of those kind were offered.
We, (Narven, Jonah and I) chose the whole body massage service with scented oil not asking if the presence of an underwear is important. One of us do not have one on, me. But we want massage now and we're getting it.
We were then led inside and saw beds lined up, 2 feet apart with curtains as dividers. The aroma in the air and the dim lights elude an aura of relaxation. We were given small towels and asked by our individual massuers to remove our clothing and accessories and lie face down on the beds. A restroom was available for the removal and clothes which I quickly went into. I removed the clothes I have on (only 2 pieces, my shirt and pants), and tightly, I repeat, tightly put the towel around my waist. Then i lied face down on the bed waiting for the massage experience.
I heard the staff door opened and saw my massuer walk towards me. Immediately, an interesting scent filled the air. A scent you know that's pheromonic in nature. The lack of light allowed me to see only her silhoutte. She was of ample proportions. Her hair short and flirtly curled around her ears. Her eyes shining in the dark short of telling me, be ready boy. Her hands slowly moved, arranging her nurse-like outfit to show less flesh. So white, so pure. Then she slowly unbuttoned her blouse on the pretense of the warm night. She only unbuttoned one, but that was enough to imagine what she's got there.
So what do you think? Do I show potential as a writer of imaginative erotic stories? Do I have enough raw talent to write for Xerex?
Let me continue with the real story right before we were randily interrupted by my overactive imagination, so there, three programmers lying face down with nothing on except the mandatory underwear and towel around the waist, on three adjacent beds, with three lady masseurs on their right side, carefully warming the oil with their hands. One programmer much closer to being naked.
This is it. I expected a warm hand to massage my back but the first physical sensation I felt was a forceful tugging off of the towel (I told you it was on real tight). And there's no stopping her.
She got it off.
Time stood still.
* * * *
I don't want to cut your reading pleasure short but I felt even a bit more creative (Read: Got tired) and decided that there will be a body massage story part 2.5.
Friday, March 11
Why Am I Writing Here?
I've been posting to this spot for almost 4 months now. I invested time, effort and the little writing ability I imagined I have. And like every investor (this vaguely includes almost everybody, who in some way or another, got their persona and the verb 'invest' in the same sentence or thought), you expect returns on your investments. Sadly, the returns are less than favorable. I got nothing but curses, discouragements (opposite of encouragements) and even death threats. Whenever I meet my blog-reading friends in the plane of reality they usually say: you sick bastard! You call that blog of yours an example of writing ability? Jeez, check your online pronunciation. Don't forget to cross your teas and dot your eyes. And if don't come up with another one this week, we'll kill you! Better come up with a funny one then.
A typical geek, which I am, would most likely cower in fear and contemplate immediate suicide. Anger of such intensity must not be ignored, it's a good thing that I just made up almost everything on the first paragraph so that it's perfectly safe for me to dish out nonsense still.
Hmmm... I actually don't have the slightest idea on why I write here. I just realized this is pointless since I don't know any reason to write. so i'll just stop writing then.
What?!? You're still reading this? I'm flattered. Really. Being the geeky loser that I am, while you were scrolling down the page with that intense sadness on your face (my gosh! my favorite writer just decided to stop writing!), I took your picture using your monitor through an advanced softare that analyzes the reflections on the screen (usually your face). The analysis is done by computing the density of shadow that fell on each of the monitor's individual pixels resulting to a byte-size data that will be encrypted using the just recently broken SHA-1 algorithm. The final result is your picture which will be uploaded to your profile I phished and then upload it to the database of this blog's fans. I hope I garbled it enough to be believable.
I write because somebody reads it and finds it ...uhm... intriguing. And so what if anyone finds it 'intriguing?' I remember starting this blog days after I've been singled. Hmm... maybe at that time I was thinking that writing online might increase the chances of me enamoring someone (preferably female) through the witty things and outrageous but funny things I chronicle here, while hiding the fact of my obnoxious nature and unappealing persona. Hmmm... well, four months have passed and still I'm single and still intent on writing some more, there must be a better reason then.
According to what I read somewhere, man is motivated by only three basic things and it's not love, honor and kindness. It's just sex, money and power.
Well obviously, I'm not writing for sex (though I would want to). Hey, I just posted up my gargoyle of face on the upper right side of the page. I could sense the temperature go cold as interest levels go down upon glancing on my poor excuse of a visage. Though I did a bit of poor image editing by adding facial hair for machismo-effect and stud earrings for a delusional aura of coolness. But hey, who am I kidding?
Am i writing for power? I'm actually losing power whenever I write here. Electric power that is. So an X for power.
Money, now that's a reason. Let me tell you a secret, but you have to promise not to tell anybody else. Do you promise not to tell anybody else? Shake your head thrice if you can't keep a secret, keep still and smirk if you can.Remember that I can see you through your montior.
I could potentially be earning money through the google advertisements that appear on this page. The advertisements that appear on this page are supposedly related to the things written here. So if i write about love, the ads that show should be related to love, the likes of discounted motel bookings, effective love potions, effective contraceptives, viagra, etc.
So what if the ads are related to the site's content? Well, advertisers are hoping that their ads are targeting the right market. And what does this got to do with me? Well, if readers of mine click the ads here, I get $0.03 multiplied with the current exchange rate of P54.60, equals to PHP1.63. Wow! I get P1.63 for every ad click I get! Assuming I get a million readers everyday who clicks on the ads of their choice multiplied by P1.63, that would be 1.63M everyday!
Oh wait, for the span of 4 months of blogging, i only got 30+ readers and all of them are cheapskates and did not visit any of my sponsors. Hmm.. do you know any other interested readers/clickers?
A typical geek, which I am, would most likely cower in fear and contemplate immediate suicide. Anger of such intensity must not be ignored, it's a good thing that I just made up almost everything on the first paragraph so that it's perfectly safe for me to dish out nonsense still.
Hmmm... I actually don't have the slightest idea on why I write here. I just realized this is pointless since I don't know any reason to write. so i'll just stop writing then.
What?!? You're still reading this? I'm flattered. Really. Being the geeky loser that I am, while you were scrolling down the page with that intense sadness on your face (my gosh! my favorite writer just decided to stop writing!), I took your picture using your monitor through an advanced softare that analyzes the reflections on the screen (usually your face). The analysis is done by computing the density of shadow that fell on each of the monitor's individual pixels resulting to a byte-size data that will be encrypted using the just recently broken SHA-1 algorithm. The final result is your picture which will be uploaded to your profile I phished and then upload it to the database of this blog's fans. I hope I garbled it enough to be believable.
I write because somebody reads it and finds it ...uhm... intriguing. And so what if anyone finds it 'intriguing?' I remember starting this blog days after I've been singled. Hmm... maybe at that time I was thinking that writing online might increase the chances of me enamoring someone (preferably female) through the witty things and outrageous but funny things I chronicle here, while hiding the fact of my obnoxious nature and unappealing persona. Hmmm... well, four months have passed and still I'm single and still intent on writing some more, there must be a better reason then.
According to what I read somewhere, man is motivated by only three basic things and it's not love, honor and kindness. It's just sex, money and power.
Well obviously, I'm not writing for sex (though I would want to). Hey, I just posted up my gargoyle of face on the upper right side of the page. I could sense the temperature go cold as interest levels go down upon glancing on my poor excuse of a visage. Though I did a bit of poor image editing by adding facial hair for machismo-effect and stud earrings for a delusional aura of coolness. But hey, who am I kidding?
Am i writing for power? I'm actually losing power whenever I write here. Electric power that is. So an X for power.
Money, now that's a reason. Let me tell you a secret, but you have to promise not to tell anybody else. Do you promise not to tell anybody else? Shake your head thrice if you can't keep a secret, keep still and smirk if you can.Remember that I can see you through your montior.
I could potentially be earning money through the google advertisements that appear on this page. The advertisements that appear on this page are supposedly related to the things written here. So if i write about love, the ads that show should be related to love, the likes of discounted motel bookings, effective love potions, effective contraceptives, viagra, etc.
So what if the ads are related to the site's content? Well, advertisers are hoping that their ads are targeting the right market. And what does this got to do with me? Well, if readers of mine click the ads here, I get $0.03 multiplied with the current exchange rate of P54.60, equals to PHP1.63. Wow! I get P1.63 for every ad click I get! Assuming I get a million readers everyday who clicks on the ads of their choice multiplied by P1.63, that would be 1.63M everyday!
Oh wait, for the span of 4 months of blogging, i only got 30+ readers and all of them are cheapskates and did not visit any of my sponsors. Hmm.. do you know any other interested readers/clickers?
Monday, February 28
Delayed Valentine's Report
I typed the first five paragraphs on valentine's day. I was bored, unmotivated and lonely at that time but it didn't show in writing. Well, Valentine's way over but I decided to continue and post it here...
There are still lots of things that i could write about my vacation but I'm putting them off for now. Real life is happening so fast that it caught up to me. In saner words, I want to write about the present while it is happening. If ever real life slows down to a crawl, I can always dip my hand in my well of happy/insane/weird memories to write about.
Though I had my own share of really happy Valentine's (like the day I picked up a billful of wallet devoid of identification, totally non-love related but nonetheless happy. Or like the time I found out the girl who dumped me got herself pregnant with an unknown sperm donor, bitter maybe, but happiness is getting revenge too), I would rather write about valentine's day of a singled geek.
To an idealistic high school geek who is just over puberty (pubic hairs:check, armpit hairs: check, waning acne infestation:check, deep mature you-know-i'm-circumcised voice: check, barely proportioned stature:check), today is the time you pledge your undying love for the person who you want to love you back. This is the exact time to splurge all your cash you received and saved over christmas on almost non-practical-purely-aesthetic gifts of flowers, cards and other sweety stuffs. And ideally, everything should go perfect as expected. And if you belong to the unfortunate majority, like I do, you would know real life's never always perfect.
What could go wrong? The three red roses you bought, which now cost an 2 arms and half a leg, for your object of lust.. ehm.. affection was easily outdone by a gift of basketful of flowers, which probably costs 4 arms and 3 knees at this time, from an obviously wealthy secret admirer. That sure makes your three roses look like paper roses.
Or maybe your officemates found out that it was just really you who anonymously sent the uber-romantic bouquet of flowers for yourself (Really pathetic but doable in certain situations, and effective in illiciting jealous stares and envy if done discreetly).
The crazy things that we do and that happens on valentine's day. But do you really know why we celebrate valentine's day? According to the papers I read at that time, there is indeed a Saint Valentine, not just one but three. The church is even lost as to who among the three saints Febr14 is attributed to. But according to ancient scripts (an old yellowing inquirer newspaper count as an ancient script), in the roman past, a certain priest named Valentine continued to perform the sacrament of marriage even though it was banned by the emperor. According to the emperor, married men lost fierceness and aggressiveness and the willingness to go into battle and during those times of war, you need those men to fight for you (These data might be from an ancient roman survey done by the emperor). And when the emperor found out what Valentine was doing (Avoiding taxes by not declaring income from secret weddings. It's just about the money really), Valentine was executed.
This is one version of valentine's day origin. If you like this version, go celebrate Valentine's by executing priests who secretly wed couples in love... err... I think I missed the moral of the story.
Another version of Valentine's day origin was the mass pairing of single citizens in ancient rome. According to the same ancient script, nonmarried citizens interested in looking for a mate gather in the town's square to be randomly paired with other probably desperately single people. The celebration is supposed to be joyous and usually ends in sex. Hmm... sounds like modern Valentine's day to me. And since the church is not really much into sex, the church decided to twist this pagan ritual and made it a bit churchy (which really means no sexual activities of any kind, which led to less fun but wholesome celebration).
I like this version better. I think most people celebrates Valentine's day the pagan ritual way. No wonder motels are fully booked (not personally checked by me of course, it's what I heard on the news. Really, promise).
I am reminded of my female physics teacher back in UP. She used the last 10 minutes to discuss various sexually-transmitted diseases and ways to have 'fun' and yet not get sick and/or pregnant. Hilarious. the couples in our class who was uber-sweet a while ago were now quiet with heads bowed down, avoiding any eye contact with the singletons. They reminded of children about to be reprimanded. Aha! We know you're having sex later so please stay safe. And then you expect them to meekly answer ...o.k..
It's just tragic that the terrorist groups decided to have explosions of their own on the same day. I guess some people's cheekiness mellowed down after such incidents. I watched an interview of an actress who witnessed the makati bombing while having a candlelit dinner with her male partner. and she goes: 'it was so tragic, blah-blah, very unfortunate, blah-blah, explosion, blah-blah. how could they do this today? after we saw what happened, we were not in the mood to do anything now.' and the question in the back of my mind was, and what should you be in the mood for? Hmm... must be one of those pagan ritualists.
There are still lots of things that i could write about my vacation but I'm putting them off for now. Real life is happening so fast that it caught up to me. In saner words, I want to write about the present while it is happening. If ever real life slows down to a crawl, I can always dip my hand in my well of happy/insane/weird memories to write about.
Though I had my own share of really happy Valentine's (like the day I picked up a billful of wallet devoid of identification, totally non-love related but nonetheless happy. Or like the time I found out the girl who dumped me got herself pregnant with an unknown sperm donor, bitter maybe, but happiness is getting revenge too), I would rather write about valentine's day of a singled geek.
To an idealistic high school geek who is just over puberty (pubic hairs:check, armpit hairs: check, waning acne infestation:check, deep mature you-know-i'm-circumcised voice: check, barely proportioned stature:check), today is the time you pledge your undying love for the person who you want to love you back. This is the exact time to splurge all your cash you received and saved over christmas on almost non-practical-purely-aesthetic gifts of flowers, cards and other sweety stuffs. And ideally, everything should go perfect as expected. And if you belong to the unfortunate majority, like I do, you would know real life's never always perfect.
What could go wrong? The three red roses you bought, which now cost an 2 arms and half a leg, for your object of lust.. ehm.. affection was easily outdone by a gift of basketful of flowers, which probably costs 4 arms and 3 knees at this time, from an obviously wealthy secret admirer. That sure makes your three roses look like paper roses.
Or maybe your officemates found out that it was just really you who anonymously sent the uber-romantic bouquet of flowers for yourself (Really pathetic but doable in certain situations, and effective in illiciting jealous stares and envy if done discreetly).
The crazy things that we do and that happens on valentine's day. But do you really know why we celebrate valentine's day? According to the papers I read at that time, there is indeed a Saint Valentine, not just one but three. The church is even lost as to who among the three saints Febr14 is attributed to. But according to ancient scripts (an old yellowing inquirer newspaper count as an ancient script), in the roman past, a certain priest named Valentine continued to perform the sacrament of marriage even though it was banned by the emperor. According to the emperor, married men lost fierceness and aggressiveness and the willingness to go into battle and during those times of war, you need those men to fight for you (These data might be from an ancient roman survey done by the emperor). And when the emperor found out what Valentine was doing (Avoiding taxes by not declaring income from secret weddings. It's just about the money really), Valentine was executed.
This is one version of valentine's day origin. If you like this version, go celebrate Valentine's by executing priests who secretly wed couples in love... err... I think I missed the moral of the story.
Another version of Valentine's day origin was the mass pairing of single citizens in ancient rome. According to the same ancient script, nonmarried citizens interested in looking for a mate gather in the town's square to be randomly paired with other probably desperately single people. The celebration is supposed to be joyous and usually ends in sex. Hmm... sounds like modern Valentine's day to me. And since the church is not really much into sex, the church decided to twist this pagan ritual and made it a bit churchy (which really means no sexual activities of any kind, which led to less fun but wholesome celebration).
I like this version better. I think most people celebrates Valentine's day the pagan ritual way. No wonder motels are fully booked (not personally checked by me of course, it's what I heard on the news. Really, promise).
I am reminded of my female physics teacher back in UP. She used the last 10 minutes to discuss various sexually-transmitted diseases and ways to have 'fun' and yet not get sick and/or pregnant. Hilarious. the couples in our class who was uber-sweet a while ago were now quiet with heads bowed down, avoiding any eye contact with the singletons. They reminded of children about to be reprimanded. Aha! We know you're having sex later so please stay safe. And then you expect them to meekly answer ...o.k..
It's just tragic that the terrorist groups decided to have explosions of their own on the same day. I guess some people's cheekiness mellowed down after such incidents. I watched an interview of an actress who witnessed the makati bombing while having a candlelit dinner with her male partner. and she goes: 'it was so tragic, blah-blah, very unfortunate, blah-blah, explosion, blah-blah. how could they do this today? after we saw what happened, we were not in the mood to do anything now.' and the question in the back of my mind was, and what should you be in the mood for? Hmm... must be one of those pagan ritualists.
Monday, February 7
Time Space Warp, Immediately!
I belonged to the generation of youngsters where afternoon TV viewing means kid friendly shows of batibot, where the kuya bodgie interacted alongside puppets. Puppets made from cloth, which were by the almost real to at that time like: Pong Pagong (Pong the Turtle), Kiko Matsing (Kiko the Monkey) and the rare appearance of a special guest Ibong Malaki who regularly appears in sesame street as Big Bird. Sesame Street at that time was still wholesome. The show was still devoid of rumors that Bert is evil, that Ernie is gay due to his bathing preference of always playing with his ‘rubber ducky,’ that Ernie died due to aids, that Ernie contracted the virus thru his sexual relations with Bert.
Robot shows were also the rage at that time. I especially liked Voltron, a robot composed of 5 lions of different colors (I believe my color coordination skill was due to this show, imagine mixing 5 different colors into 1 ultimate fighting machine and still avoid being a fashion victim). Memorable Japanese futuristic shows are shown: Voltes V, Mazinger Z, Mask Rider, Macros, Daimos and Bioman (which incidentally, is included in GMA7’s cartoon lineup on Saturday as of this writing.
For those who belonged to my generation, you would probably recognize the title as the translation to Bioman’s utterance before the final fight scene with the baddies: (‘Time space warp, ngayon na!) and almost instantly, a super-high-tech looking spacecraft would appear from somewhere over the mountains and carry Bioman to a place where innocent civilians may be made unaware of a vicious battle between good and evil that may possible tear the world apart.
I am making you recall this since I experienced being ‘time space warped.’ My LA vacation started with it.
We were scheduled to leave the manila international airport at 10pm Dec19 Sunday with an estimated travel time of 13 hours. Seems normal to me at that time. And then we boarded the plane.
Thirteen (13) hours flew quite quickly (pun intended). The 13 hours were consumed by intervals of sleep, eat, watch the in flight movie (taxi, which stars Queen Latifah and a moron police cop with a shallow plot you must definitely avoid except for the watching racing cars scenes which kept me half awake. Volta, starring Ai Ai delas Alas, and Sky Captain something and the World of Tomorrow).
Then we landed after a relatively uneventful 13 hours. The time on my watch says it should be 11am Dec20 Monday, but it seems that I was in for a surprise (to keep the story fresh, amazing, interesting and even keep you readers in awe, let us pretend the idea of international time zones are yet to be explained to us).
As we were going through immigration, the speakers blared: Welcome to the Los Angeles International Airport, the time now is 6pm Dec19 Sunday. WHOA!! Let’s pause for a moment of silence and then backtrack a little..., I remember leaving manila at 10pm Dec19, went through a 13 hour flight, and yet arrived in Los Angeles at 6pm Dec19. I actually flew back 4hours in time! (pun intended). I was very elated to know that I’ve gone back in time yet shocked to know that I might have torn the delicate fabric of time. I was already thinking of things to minimize the repercussions of going back through time. I already decided to move my birthday a day ahead. Instead of celebrating it on Dec1, from then on, my birthday is on Nov31. I was also anxious to find mind doctors to erase all memories that supposedly happened during the time space warp.
And since I am a fickle minded creature of non-habit, plus a disdainful procrastinator, none of this where put into action as I forgot everything else and looked forward to my vacation...
Robot shows were also the rage at that time. I especially liked Voltron, a robot composed of 5 lions of different colors (I believe my color coordination skill was due to this show, imagine mixing 5 different colors into 1 ultimate fighting machine and still avoid being a fashion victim). Memorable Japanese futuristic shows are shown: Voltes V, Mazinger Z, Mask Rider, Macros, Daimos and Bioman (which incidentally, is included in GMA7’s cartoon lineup on Saturday as of this writing.
For those who belonged to my generation, you would probably recognize the title as the translation to Bioman’s utterance before the final fight scene with the baddies: (‘Time space warp, ngayon na!) and almost instantly, a super-high-tech looking spacecraft would appear from somewhere over the mountains and carry Bioman to a place where innocent civilians may be made unaware of a vicious battle between good and evil that may possible tear the world apart.
I am making you recall this since I experienced being ‘time space warped.’ My LA vacation started with it.
We were scheduled to leave the manila international airport at 10pm Dec19 Sunday with an estimated travel time of 13 hours. Seems normal to me at that time. And then we boarded the plane.
Thirteen (13) hours flew quite quickly (pun intended). The 13 hours were consumed by intervals of sleep, eat, watch the in flight movie (taxi, which stars Queen Latifah and a moron police cop with a shallow plot you must definitely avoid except for the watching racing cars scenes which kept me half awake. Volta, starring Ai Ai delas Alas, and Sky Captain something and the World of Tomorrow).
Then we landed after a relatively uneventful 13 hours. The time on my watch says it should be 11am Dec20 Monday, but it seems that I was in for a surprise (to keep the story fresh, amazing, interesting and even keep you readers in awe, let us pretend the idea of international time zones are yet to be explained to us).
As we were going through immigration, the speakers blared: Welcome to the Los Angeles International Airport, the time now is 6pm Dec19 Sunday. WHOA!! Let’s pause for a moment of silence and then backtrack a little..., I remember leaving manila at 10pm Dec19, went through a 13 hour flight, and yet arrived in Los Angeles at 6pm Dec19. I actually flew back 4hours in time! (pun intended). I was very elated to know that I’ve gone back in time yet shocked to know that I might have torn the delicate fabric of time. I was already thinking of things to minimize the repercussions of going back through time. I already decided to move my birthday a day ahead. Instead of celebrating it on Dec1, from then on, my birthday is on Nov31. I was also anxious to find mind doctors to erase all memories that supposedly happened during the time space warp.
And since I am a fickle minded creature of non-habit, plus a disdainful procrastinator, none of this where put into action as I forgot everything else and looked forward to my vacation...
Wednesday, January 26
Of Language and Magnets
I know, I know... it has been quite a while since I last blogged. I remember writing that I would stick to a schedule of blogging every sunday morning so readers may get their fix of this funny, yet mind-filling, even eye-opening disillusionment of writing ability by yours truly. I guess the alter ego of the mild mannered programmer is not a creature of habit, and a disdainful procastinator. But here I am again blogging, only after gazillions of imaginary friends and readers pleaded on bended knees and elbows, wailing and moaning in a valley of tears (not a pretty sight really). Again, I'm not naming any of them because i don't feel like making up any names right now.
So where was I? The last thing I remember writing (after visiting my blog a hundred times over the holidays, effectively increasing my page's popularity a hundred times), is the conclusion to the massage-without-any-undies story of a mild-but-nekkid programmer. And I bet you're really eager to read about the juicy, salivatangy part 2 of the story (I did part 1 first, part 3 second and then finally part 2 to start an original way of story telling, a little bit like Lucas' star wars where he did 4,5,6 then 1,2,3).
But I'm depriving you of such pleasure. I'm delaying the part 2 since a lot of other a bit more interesting things happened to me over the holidays. Plus, a good story's exaggeration is directly proportional to the time that lapsed from the actual event until the storytelling. Beseech for more time then and expect lots of romance, sex, even sex-massage-related-violence as I delay its writing. Hmm... I'll even throw in a romantic love triangle angle to the actual 1-hour experience if I'll hold off its telling for at least a year.
* * * *
I was the luckiest programmer last year over the holidays. I won a two week all-expense-paid trip to Los Angles in a christmas raffle! My parents sponsoring the raffle prizes, and the drawing of the 2 lucky ticket stubs from the 2 raffle tickets sold to me and my brother for almost nil is besides the point. The point is, expect a blogful of my vacation if ever I pick up that usally misplaced habit of blogging.
* * * *
We know that the earth is a large magnet but do you know magnetisms effect on language? My friend has this theory, which I also some kinda believe, that the language we speak is affected by a place's magnetic field. Let me explain... but first, a disclaimer. This theory of mine is devoid of any statistical analysis and entirely based on my personal experience. Accidents, humiliation, loss of virginity, loss of life resulting from the belief of such theory is totally your own fault.
The trip to LA consists of 2 connecting flights:Davao to Manila, then Manila to LA. At the davao airport departure area, people converse using the local dialect which is bisaya with a dash of tagalog or filpino. Nothing wrong there of course. Then we boarded our plane. During our 1.75 hours of air travel, the dialect used by the same people seem to be slowly changing from the bisaya with a dash of tagalog to half-bisaya, half-tagalog. The change is noticeble, the bai's became pare's, mao ba? to talaga? Amazing, and they were the same people I heard talking a while ago, I swear that there was this hint of bicolano accent while we were over southern luzon. the transformation of dialect was completed when we landed at the manila airport. At this time, no one was bisaya anymore.
This theory gets more support on my Manila to LA trip. Of course, the people on board the plane before it takes off converse in tagalog (We're in manila now). The uber-friendly stewards and stewardess with their super-practiced-non-real-looked-forced teethy smile greets us with: magandang gabi. Hey, even the americans onboard speaks their own version of tagalog. but upon landing on LAX international airport (yep, you guessed it), everyone's speaking english.
I couldn't really explain why but do go on tell your friends of the influence of the earth's magnetic field on language.
So where was I? The last thing I remember writing (after visiting my blog a hundred times over the holidays, effectively increasing my page's popularity a hundred times), is the conclusion to the massage-without-any-undies story of a mild-but-nekkid programmer. And I bet you're really eager to read about the juicy, salivatangy part 2 of the story (I did part 1 first, part 3 second and then finally part 2 to start an original way of story telling, a little bit like Lucas' star wars where he did 4,5,6 then 1,2,3).
But I'm depriving you of such pleasure. I'm delaying the part 2 since a lot of other a bit more interesting things happened to me over the holidays. Plus, a good story's exaggeration is directly proportional to the time that lapsed from the actual event until the storytelling. Beseech for more time then and expect lots of romance, sex, even sex-massage-related-violence as I delay its writing. Hmm... I'll even throw in a romantic love triangle angle to the actual 1-hour experience if I'll hold off its telling for at least a year.
* * * *
I was the luckiest programmer last year over the holidays. I won a two week all-expense-paid trip to Los Angles in a christmas raffle! My parents sponsoring the raffle prizes, and the drawing of the 2 lucky ticket stubs from the 2 raffle tickets sold to me and my brother for almost nil is besides the point. The point is, expect a blogful of my vacation if ever I pick up that usally misplaced habit of blogging.
* * * *
We know that the earth is a large magnet but do you know magnetisms effect on language? My friend has this theory, which I also some kinda believe, that the language we speak is affected by a place's magnetic field. Let me explain... but first, a disclaimer. This theory of mine is devoid of any statistical analysis and entirely based on my personal experience. Accidents, humiliation, loss of virginity, loss of life resulting from the belief of such theory is totally your own fault.
The trip to LA consists of 2 connecting flights:Davao to Manila, then Manila to LA. At the davao airport departure area, people converse using the local dialect which is bisaya with a dash of tagalog or filpino. Nothing wrong there of course. Then we boarded our plane. During our 1.75 hours of air travel, the dialect used by the same people seem to be slowly changing from the bisaya with a dash of tagalog to half-bisaya, half-tagalog. The change is noticeble, the bai's became pare's, mao ba? to talaga? Amazing, and they were the same people I heard talking a while ago, I swear that there was this hint of bicolano accent while we were over southern luzon. the transformation of dialect was completed when we landed at the manila airport. At this time, no one was bisaya anymore.
This theory gets more support on my Manila to LA trip. Of course, the people on board the plane before it takes off converse in tagalog (We're in manila now). The uber-friendly stewards and stewardess with their super-practiced-non-real-looked-forced teethy smile greets us with: magandang gabi. Hey, even the americans onboard speaks their own version of tagalog. but upon landing on LAX international airport (yep, you guessed it), everyone's speaking english.
I couldn't really explain why but do go on tell your friends of the influence of the earth's magnetic field on language.
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