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.
Monday, February 28
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.
Sunday, December 12
Part 3: Body Massage
And then I woke up sunday morning, expecting a refreshed and relaxed feeling. Wrong again. I could barely lift my arms up as I try doing my daily morning routine of reaching my toes, my knees, my shoulders, my head (come on, sing with me. I'm sure you know the lyrics), my toes, my knees, my shoulders, my head (repeat twice or until you're bored) so early in the morning!
I've never felt such muscle soreness on my upper back before. I'm used to the feeling of soreness on my legs during my soccer-playing-goal-scoring days which was so long ago, but never felt pain on my upper back. Maybe it's because you don't use your back for ball kicking or my back didn't get hit much by the ball, or maybe it's because of the massage I had last night. I'm sure if you read the second part of the body massage mini-series, you would have jumped to the same conlcusion.
Another prediction come true. I spent the rest of sunday recuperating due to saturday night's activities. Since i could barely move, I just lied the entire day (I know it's bad to be a compulsive liar but hey, I have to lie alot today to get things done. For example: Hey, could you please get me a glass of water? I can't leave the bed now since I'm trying to bind this book which I put under the mattress. I have to sit on it until the glue dries. Another: Hey, could you please turn on the electric fan? I'm feeling warm and I'm afraid of moving an inch as it might raise my body temperature even higher. Could you please? And many others which is even more unbelievable. I hope these examples showed pretty much how I lied around the entire day)
So there, another boring day for the mild-mannered programmer...
...I was about to end here but I thought fans of these blog might wonder where the exciting part two of the body massage story. Was there sex? Was the mild-mannered programmer butt-slapped or cheek-slapped? Are programmers now banned from shiatsu centers? You'll know in the near future. According to what I've read somewhere, there seem to be a law of diminishing returns regarding stories with sequels. For example, Matrix did better than Matrix Reloaded, which did better than Matrix Revolution. So I thought of doing part three first. Another example, George Lucas made star wars part 4,5 and 6 first then did 1, 2, 3. So I decided to be a bit original and did part 1 first, then part 3, then finally part 2. How about that? A dose of original story telling style from me. So I'll end here and do part 2 next sunday while I do one of my latest favorite hobby, observing my hit counter.
I've never felt such muscle soreness on my upper back before. I'm used to the feeling of soreness on my legs during my soccer-playing-goal-scoring days which was so long ago, but never felt pain on my upper back. Maybe it's because you don't use your back for ball kicking or my back didn't get hit much by the ball, or maybe it's because of the massage I had last night. I'm sure if you read the second part of the body massage mini-series, you would have jumped to the same conlcusion.
Another prediction come true. I spent the rest of sunday recuperating due to saturday night's activities. Since i could barely move, I just lied the entire day (I know it's bad to be a compulsive liar but hey, I have to lie alot today to get things done. For example: Hey, could you please get me a glass of water? I can't leave the bed now since I'm trying to bind this book which I put under the mattress. I have to sit on it until the glue dries. Another: Hey, could you please turn on the electric fan? I'm feeling warm and I'm afraid of moving an inch as it might raise my body temperature even higher. Could you please? And many others which is even more unbelievable. I hope these examples showed pretty much how I lied around the entire day)
So there, another boring day for the mild-mannered programmer...
...I was about to end here but I thought fans of these blog might wonder where the exciting part two of the body massage story. Was there sex? Was the mild-mannered programmer butt-slapped or cheek-slapped? Are programmers now banned from shiatsu centers? You'll know in the near future. According to what I've read somewhere, there seem to be a law of diminishing returns regarding stories with sequels. For example, Matrix did better than Matrix Reloaded, which did better than Matrix Revolution. So I thought of doing part three first. Another example, George Lucas made star wars part 4,5 and 6 first then did 1, 2, 3. So I decided to be a bit original and did part 1 first, then part 3, then finally part 2. How about that? A dose of original story telling style from me. So I'll end here and do part 2 next sunday while I do one of my latest favorite hobby, observing my hit counter.
Thursday, December 9
Part 1: Body Massage
It's been a while since I tested this frail but well sculpted body of mine to strenous physical activities (I managed to sculpt a six-packed abdominals using a dull butter knife. I won't tell you the gory details but I encourage you to try it and let me blog your results). Imagine this, after periods of rest after the removal of my vessels of wisdom (Who would ever thought minute brain cells could be found inside our third molars?), I played fast-paced badminton for an hour and a half followed by another hour of elbow-smashing, crotch grabbing basketball. Sometime in between sets, I could feel burning sensations on my legs which I knew is the build up of lactic acid brought upon by the anerobic activity of my leg muscles due to the lack of oxygen rich blood reaching my quadriceps.
I should have gone home but since today's saturday (which means I can still gimik out and have the rest of sunday to recuperate my to-be-abused but cared-for body), I decided to go out with some of my not-as-mild-mannered-as-I-am programmer friends, and they are Jonah Lanos and Narven Hevier. I'm not stating their full names even though they did injustice to me this night.
It all started after dinner at around 10pm.
After text invites and gimik-asking queries were rejected (Tine has to visit a friend in the hospital, Phil decided to go out for dinner with his classmates, Maylin who's celebrating her birthday decided to sleep the night away), I meekly suggested a massage session as I can feel the growing intensity of muscle soreness. You might be wondering, three tostesterone-filled guys out on a saturday night for a massage? While this might sound as a start of a night of immoral sex with beautiful strangers who fronts as masseurs, it isn't. Though I'm tempted to write it as if to show off a life full of sex, drugs, love, excitement, thrill and alcohol, I'm writing just what really transpires in the life of a mild-mannered programmer.
We finally drove to this shiatsu joint beside rizal promenade (I'm was about to call it a massage parlor but I don't want you to think of things you associate with such words). PHP250 for 1.5 hours of full body massage, sounds fair to me. While I've never had strangers stroke my whole body before, I was quite enthusiastic and hesitant at the same time. Enthusiastic due to good experiences of friends who have had massages before, hesitant since I'm not wearing any underwear tonight. I wore one hours ago, but due to dripping sweat that collected there during the afternoon's activities, I just have to remove it as not to provide a medium for new single celled life forms to generate and I just forgot to bring extras. (I assume we're all adults here, according to what i've read and heard, man's testicles were designed to hang (sa bisaya pa, nagbitay). And they (the testicles), are quite smart too. To regulate its temperature, the scrotum would firm up so that the testicles stay close to the body for heat during low temperatures and would stay away and intentionally sag during times of warmth. We can safely conlude that tight fitting underwears and pants are a no-no for efficient sperm cell production. That's why I prefer boxers to panties ...ehrm... briefs, which I unintentionally forgot this night (but still, supporters should be a must during springy/jumpy/movey activities, you don't want your gonads reaching 'til your knees when you grow old don't you?).
The absence of underware shouldn't be an issue during the massage. Narven said, the last time they had a massage, shorts were handed out. He was wrong this time.
To be continued...
I should have gone home but since today's saturday (which means I can still gimik out and have the rest of sunday to recuperate my to-be-abused but cared-for body), I decided to go out with some of my not-as-mild-mannered-as-I-am programmer friends, and they are Jonah Lanos and Narven Hevier. I'm not stating their full names even though they did injustice to me this night.
It all started after dinner at around 10pm.
After text invites and gimik-asking queries were rejected (Tine has to visit a friend in the hospital, Phil decided to go out for dinner with his classmates, Maylin who's celebrating her birthday decided to sleep the night away), I meekly suggested a massage session as I can feel the growing intensity of muscle soreness. You might be wondering, three tostesterone-filled guys out on a saturday night for a massage? While this might sound as a start of a night of immoral sex with beautiful strangers who fronts as masseurs, it isn't. Though I'm tempted to write it as if to show off a life full of sex, drugs, love, excitement, thrill and alcohol, I'm writing just what really transpires in the life of a mild-mannered programmer.
We finally drove to this shiatsu joint beside rizal promenade (I'm was about to call it a massage parlor but I don't want you to think of things you associate with such words). PHP250 for 1.5 hours of full body massage, sounds fair to me. While I've never had strangers stroke my whole body before, I was quite enthusiastic and hesitant at the same time. Enthusiastic due to good experiences of friends who have had massages before, hesitant since I'm not wearing any underwear tonight. I wore one hours ago, but due to dripping sweat that collected there during the afternoon's activities, I just have to remove it as not to provide a medium for new single celled life forms to generate and I just forgot to bring extras. (I assume we're all adults here, according to what i've read and heard, man's testicles were designed to hang (sa bisaya pa, nagbitay). And they (the testicles), are quite smart too. To regulate its temperature, the scrotum would firm up so that the testicles stay close to the body for heat during low temperatures and would stay away and intentionally sag during times of warmth. We can safely conlude that tight fitting underwears and pants are a no-no for efficient sperm cell production. That's why I prefer boxers to panties ...ehrm... briefs, which I unintentionally forgot this night (but still, supporters should be a must during springy/jumpy/movey activities, you don't want your gonads reaching 'til your knees when you grow old don't you?).
The absence of underware shouldn't be an issue during the massage. Narven said, the last time they had a massage, shorts were handed out. He was wrong this time.
To be continued...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)