Thursday, September 30, 2004
Gggrrrr!!!!!!!!
#@$!&*
Kainis talaga!!!!
@ 
RSS Feeds
Got a lot of blogs to read? Do you find loading time of blogs too long? Why not try try using RSS readers to read blog posts? It's just like reading a blog minus the unnecessary graphics. It's blogging in it's purest form.For more info on RSS and Atom, read this article or this, if you're a Blogger user.
I personally use Bloglines. It's easy to use and very convenient. It even tracks down which blog is the most recently updated.
The Tale of Three Re-formats
Never try this at home!
"..starting off with a clean slate"
Last night, I reformatted my laptop using Marlo's XP cd. After installing windows, I started the tedious task of installing my laptop's drivers. And to my shock, there was a lot of 'em. I didn't want to go through the manual process since aabutin lang ako ng siyam-siyam. Therefore, I found an easier way to install my drivers - reformat using the TOSHIBA CD containing the drivers.
After installing XP, I went through the process of installing my basic applications - Office XP, Flash MX, Photoshop, and the files in the makeshift backup CD. Then, I downloaded more programs - mIRC, DAP, Yahoo messenger, Winamp, spyware removers, and the Mozilla Firefox which was a cool replacement for the IE but it had flaws such as the need to reprogram it to become compatible with my DAP which I managed to accomplish after a couple of tweaks.
Everything was going on smoothly until disaster struck. My Norton Anti-virus continually detected a windows worm in my registry. Everytime I tried to delete it, it would regenerate. So, I opted to use Adaware a spyware remover, thinking that the worm was just a spyware. Unfortunately, while the program was scanning through my hard disk, it would always hang.
The problem persisted until tonight. But when I thought things can't get any worse, it did. My laptop suddenly contracted the Blaster worm. It's a worm that, when connected to the internet, will prompt a countdown that will restart your computer. The worm, and the vindication that Firefox funneled spywares into my laptop convinced me to reformat once again.
And we (my laptop and me) lived happily ever after!
THE END
postscript1: it's already the wee hours in the morning and is till haven't started my close reading paper for Heights.
postscript2:i need to wake up before 7:30.
postscript3: my tummy's growling like a wild bear.
postscript4: i'm crazy for air.
Saturday, September 25, 2004
Thursday, September 23, 2004
After the Tempest
Yehey! The 6th Math18 long test is over and I am pretty cofident that I have finally surpassed my personal best, C. Nonetheless, though that one's behind my back, there are still more not far beyond the horizon. But I'll not worry about those. For now, let's have a little fun!Try to guess who these pop icons are. Post your answers in the comments. He/she who gets everything right gets a special prize! :) This guy owns these.
Wednesday, September 22, 2004
A Reason to Hate College
What's the number one thing that I hate about Ateneo?Long tests!!!
Tomorrow is my 6th long test in Math 18. It's my first subject tomorrow and I'm still yet to break the C barrier.
Why do I hate long tests (specifically Math 18 long tests):
1. They are difficult.
2. They make me look stupid.
3. They are like immortal enemies. Before I can say, "Hay salamat, tapos na ang long test!", there's another one just around the corner.
4. Calvin from Calvin & Hobbes, couldn't have said it better.
Monday, September 20, 2004
Sassy 'Ol Me
Yeeehheee!!!
"..take care of my own love life"
Back then, when the talk of the town was My Sassy Girl, I would always whisper beneath breath that it's just another sappy chick flick made for the ever-so-hopeless-romantic. Well, I was right.
It was another sappy chick flick made for the ever-so-hopeless-romantic but there was something more to it. I can't exactly pin point what it is - either its the twisted yet predictable plot, or maybe its the several instances of "salisihan", or maybe its the recurring presence of the not your average bossy type of girl, or (the list goes on, but not infinitely). The point is, the movie's beauty doesn't soley rely on the "kilig moments" which other films heavily depend upon. Rather, it's that interwoven tapestry of all the basic elements of a romantic comedy - reminds me of "Romantic Comedy 101".
What's also interesting is how much I am affected by the damn movie. I don't know if the movie is really that good or am I just developing a sweet spot for romantic, mushy stories (eeeww!!!). Or maybe it's just a reminder that I should take care of my own love life.
Sunday, September 19, 2004
Let's Play a Meme Game!
1. Go into your blog's archive.2. Find your 23rd posts (or closest to).
3. Find the fifth sentence (or closest to).
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.
From Nilamon ng Lumbay a post on May 17, 2004:
Dumadating ang pagkakataong hinding hindi niya matanto kung bakit ba niya kailangan pang gumising sa umaga para lamang tumunganga at hintaying dumaan ang isa nanamang araw na walang katorya-torya.
It was raining back then. It's all coming back to me now...
Tell me about you 23rd post!
Friday, September 17, 2004
Wearing Silver Sneaks
Give me some spunky funk!
"..to have even the slightest chance of escape"
I always thought that musicals would be boring and difficult to understand. But after watching my first musical, The Wiz, everything seem to have changed.
The Wiz is, as they say, the ghetto remake of the classical "Wizard of Oz". True enough, it is quite ghettoish with all the apparel and lights and the sounds. From the Michael Jackson looking scarecrow to the afro-haired lion to the silver sneaks (not your average ruby glass slippers), the musical has given the old a new twist. Performed by the Ateneo Blue Repertory, I was bedazzled by the spectacle that is The Wiz.
Though the price, costing an amount of 200 pesos, is quite tight for my pockets, I tried to squeeze a couple of hundreds to support a friend of mine, Pia who was the Evil Witch of the West. Unfortunately, it was the performance wherein she only belonged to the chorus and didn't play an acting part.
Though I felt disappointed because I can't watch my friend, the delightful musical simply took it away.
The play had all the right elements executed at just the right cues. The Wiz has trully inspired me to be a supporter of the theater.
It's Friday night and I should either be enjoying myself or enjoying the scenery in dreamland. But on the contrary, after this post, I have to start flipping through pages after pages of short stories for tomorrow's deliberation.
It's Friday but I know Monday would inevitably come. It's no wonder I'll do anything to have a pair of silver sneaks, just like Dorothy, and have even the slightest chance of escaping this world into that of Oz.
Read the whole article here!
Thursday, September 16, 2004
The Eternal Mind of the Spotless Sunshine
Am I?
"How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd;"
- Alexander Pope (Eloisa to Abelard)
Wednesday, September 15, 2004
Something Controversial
Here is the controversial poem I talked about in my previous post. First of all, I didn't write this one. Personally, I don't like the poem content-wise and form-wise.Jesus Visits A Tattoo Shop
After that terrible ordeal
At the cross, surely
A little masochistic fun
Would not hurt
Before formally starting the mission.
The ones who heard about it
Ruch to the shop to kiss His feet.
Our messiah! they shout.
You have come again!
We are saved!
Outside, a growing crowd
Looks in with side-cupped hands
Through the glass window.
A boy runs out to the streets
Shouting the news.
As for the tattoo
It is slowly taking the shape of
Two hearts on the butt of Jesus,
One per rosy cheek,
Which delights the crowd.
What do you think of the poem? Leave a comment, I'll be glad to hear from you.
Of Clowns and Poems
Who are you, really?
"..Big Mac is our national food"
The day started of with me being late for English class (9:30 a.m. ETA: 10 am). As usual, my teacher would talk about how the whole system of society stinks. This time, instead of the usual society traps women into yada-yada in la-la land, we tackle the already explored frontiers of the First World capitalistic ploys. Imagine, Donald Duck, Mickey Mouse, and Ronald McDonald as the regents of this mundane empire called CAPITALISM, with good ol' Uncle Sam as the mastermind.
To be honest, I liked the topic. Though it sounds stupid that all things have a political and social implication, it is quite frankly true. From the clothes we wear, to the food we it, and the movies we watch - we are being fed not on our behest but by those rich mongrels of the west. Globalization, consumerism, objectification - (I can't imagine I'm saying this) these are as real as the carbon monoxide in the air we breathe! And they're as toxic and as abundant as they can be.
Imagine, everything that we believe in, the ideals, beliefs, and virtues, are all mere fabrications by those who are more powerful and richer. Our reality, as we know it, is not actually ours but of others who use us for their own benefit. Worst Case Scenario: Your children will say Big Mac is our national food.
After English is Lit and that means tackling the story The Star. And talking about the story means going through an hour of discussing about God and hearing Paulo Alix destroy my day.
Nothing much happened afterwards until about 5 pm. We had a deliberations session in Heights. As always, I had fun. Actually, we were only able to tackle three poems. Guess what, it took us at least two hours to vote on these poems.
One poem is about death. It was a beautiful poem. It was well constructed and nicely done, per se. The second poem is a very controversial one. Wanna know why? I'll post the poem after this post. The third poem is something we already discussed and voted on last Monday. It was another controversial poem because it got a YES vote though most claim that the last line ruined the whole poem. Therefore, we re-opened it for discussion and eventually it got a NO with me and my editor defending it against five others. Oh well, what can I do? I'm not even an english major. But the good thing about Heights is that though I'm not an english major, I easily fell in love with poetry, even if I haven't written a decent poem ever.
Speaking of deliberations, my story is about to be deliberated on Saturday. Please pray that it would be published. It would really mean so much to if it does get published. Trust me.
Syempre hindi ako sinama sa snack-out ng Igknights!
I'm not a concept. I'm just a fucked up boy looking for my own peace of mind. I'm not perfect.
Read the whole article here!
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
Spilled Milkolate Episode I - The Bike
Spilled milkolate ain't a waste
I'm the biggest failure known to man. I barely finished college in an unknown university. I never had a girlfriend. I rent an apartment in the slums of downtown. I eat fast food as my staple diet. And I am a freakin' minimum wage government employee. Imagine, a government employee!
I look around my shabby little nook every morning with nonchalant dismay for what I have become. Soiled clothes are strewn all over the place. The floor lay dusty and sometimes, when it rains, muddy. The window glasses are shattered. My bed is a hodgepodge of ticks and bed bugs. Cobwebs served as my wallpaper. Someone said that your room reflects your personality. Obviously, I'm one big pile of junk in a box.
In the kitchen, I could hear my beat down radio play a Beach Boys song. I could barely make out the lyrics coming out of the antique. But I know the lyrics of Wouldn't It Be Nice by heart.
After plowing through a swamp of pizza boxes, Chinese take-outs, and overdue video tapes, I managed to get to the bathroom to take a quick shower. Inside, there is this oval mirror hanging above the sink. It was quite hazy from the steam of the hot water coming out of the faucet. Wiping out the fog, I caught myself staring at a stranger. Blood-shut eyes. Unshaved beard. Haggard hair. Swollen lips - aftershocks of a bar fight last night. Damn! I hate this pathetic excuse for a life!
After trying my best to look as good as I can be (as if that was remotely possible), I said goodbye to my horse shack and headed for my car in the apartment's garage. The garage was filled with the scum of the road - old Harleys, rusty cabs, and rundown trailers. Tucked in the farthest corner, beside rows of steam pipes projecting out of the walls, was an aged black sedan. The car had a nifty history. It was once owned by a politician who lost the congressional race, who handed the car down to his delinquent son after committing suicide (couldn't accept the fact he lost by a major blow-out). Consequently, the son lost the car in a poker match to a sly college classmate, me.
The drive to work in a car that desperately needed repairs takes a good half an hour and as usual, I am one hour late. Tardiness has always been my unwavering morning ritual and it seems that there's no way I'm changing that. Besides, everybody at work will probably have a bad case of the Mondays. But on that Monday morning, I felt a little lazier than the usual. The cloudy sky seemed to hold back the tiniest of the sun's rays, depriving me of the heat that I desperately need to wake me up. Thus, I decided to pass by the old French Quarter, which is about an additional fifteen minutes to my travel time. Moreover, I could use a breather from the usual look of the houses back at the downtown.
Driving by the Quarter is like seeing a glimpse of what life could have been if you won in the great cosmic roulette of chance and luck. There, all the houses have a Victorian touch with a graceful patio to boot. There, gardens are housewives pastimes and children could always be seen on swings in the nearby parks. People are neither poor as a rat nor rich as hell. They just have enough money to go to fancy restaurants once in a while and buy fine wine and dress in fancy gowns just for the heck of it. Here, everybody knows everybody. Someone's birthday is everyone's party. What would I give to have a life like that?
Eventually I grew tired of the bourgeoisie. Dreaming of a life that couldn't be, can get on ones nerves. It just makes you want to curse out loud to a world that doesn't care. Then, I saw the sight that would change my life forever.
A family having a picnic underneath a tree is not a weird sight. The weird thing is, I parked my car near the tree and stared at the scene like a fool.
The tree looks like an oak and sounds like an oak. My Dad once told me that a tree, like anything that with life has a very distinct sound that sets it apart from any other tree; just like a palm tree's sound is different from a fig tree's. I don't know why I still remember that silly old stuff. Memories are for losers who wallow in their pasts, thinking about the what-ifs and could-haves. But at that moment, it's one of the few things that my mind kept thinking out loud.
The tree was like any other oak in the Quarter. The roots are thick and strong enough that they shatter the dull grey concrete that surrounds the tree. Its bark, though bearing scars that come with leaving a good life time, still has the typical brown hue. The branches are, as expected, reaching its length upward, trying to raise its verdant arms to the heavens above. An occasional breeze would stir the rather still leaves into a gentle rustle.
The family didn't mind me so I moved closer to look at the tree. Then I realized that there was something different about this tree. Wrapped around the trunk was a rusty old chain. It seemed embedded on the trunk's girth for it has already formed a ridge in the bark.
Behind the family, I saw what the rusty chain is for. An old and even rustier bike was tied to the tree with the use of the chain and a lock. The bike looked as if it had weathered countless years of neglect and stormy weather. It was pretty obvious that no one wanted to use it for spare parts since most of the parts are still intact except for the tires which are already flat.
How could this bike end up in this tree?
How long has it been since this bike was left here?
Who owned this threadbare bike?
Why would anyone leave a bike in this part of the Quarter?
Perhaps some thief stole this from a poor little kid and left the bike there after stealing it from one of the farther houses. Perhaps when he realized that he had waked up the whole neighborhood, he just left it there to avoid being caught. Perhaps he was caught. Perhaps the kid didn't bother looking for it. Perhaps…
Suddenly, the mother who was trying to arrange her family for a photo shoot asked me if I can take their picture for them. Startled, I reached out my hand as a sign of agreement. So she gave me their camera and the family posed and smiled for the camera.
Cheese!!!
I remember my family. Where could they be? Do they miss me? Is Dad still beating Mom up? Are my sisters still hiding under their beds when Dad arrives with the smell of alcohol? Is Mom still angry at her children for causing her so much misery?
At the flash of the camera, all thoughts disappeared. They thanked me for the favor. As the family started to depart, I suddenly realized that I had stayed longer than I hoped to do. I was already late but I suddenly felt an urge to get away from the Quarter, from the tree. I started the engine and made a last glance at the bike in the tree.
Work is the typical daily losing battle to regain whatever dignity I had. Scolding from my boss for being late, disagreements with co-workers, and mechanical failures of photocopying machines, this is the usual ebb and flow of the office. I'm already used to this grunt work but sometimes it can really piss me off. But this day is different. For a good part of the day, I kept thinking about the bike in the tree. Whenever I tried to busy myself with some paper work, it would haunt me like a specter craving for some attention from a mortal, a lousy mortal at that. At the end of the day, I realized that I didn't make much progress for the day's work. It's not that I care if I finish a good day's load or not but the thought of the bike in the tree just won't leave me alone.
On my way home, I decided to drop by the oak tree. The Quarter was even more beautiful at dusk. The rays of the sun bathe the houses with tangerine flame. Houses lay still as sounds of laughter can be heard from inside every home. The fathers are eager to tell their wives what has transpired at work. The children are happily playing inside the houses, waiting for the mothers to finish cooking tonight's gracious supper.
The oak tree and the bicycle are left all alone as both bask in the final rays of the sun I parked the car near the tree, yet again. I can't help but admire the scene - the bike leaning on the tree like an old friend while the tree's asymmetrical foliage favors the side of the bicycle.
I approached the bike like I did in the morning. But as I near the bike, I noticed that the bike looked liked the one I had when I was young. It had the same blue handles with a hand brake on each handle. It had the same metal pole on its rear which had a flag at the tip, but this one's flag is already long gone. Judging by the sparse specks of paint, I see that the bike was also once colored white, just like mine.
I miss my old bike. I would often ride it and race with the wind or with my old friends from the block. I would speed down the hilly streets of the Upper French Quarter, where we once lived.
Half-wishing that it was my old bike, I looked at the bike's seat. As I remembered, the night before my Dad took my bike away from me, I etched my name in my bike's seat. Oh how I hate those old memories!
I bent down to my knees to look at the black bike seat. With my face inches from the seat, I remained still, motionless. I slowly stood up and walked a few paces backwards, not letting my eyes off the bike.
Night came but no one bothered a poor little kid staring at his old stolen bike.
Read the whole article here!
Wednesday, September 08, 2004
Barely Space to Breathe
My dear 'ol prof
"..barely have space.."
Oh! The bell has rang! Hehehe! I still can't right that much in my blog. My days are still borne from hell and I'm burning in its seering heat. Gosh! I barely have space to breathe!
Commercial: Please visit http://www.math.admu.edu.ph/~andrewv/students/mina/
Read the whole article here!
Thursday, September 02, 2004
Haywire
Need I say more?
Well, what matters is I'm writing again. Right?
"..hands full like a sack of rice in a wicker basket"
Life as me has been a series of downs and downs and some occasional yet negligible ups. Nonetheless there are still slight sparks of noteworthiness that can keep my fingers crunching.
First off, my laptop is going haywire! It sometimes has this IDE #0 Error whatever that means, it really seems bad. But what's funny though, is that I'm using the laptop to type this post and re-change my lay-out.
But my laptop is not the only one going haywire but also my alter-ego, Omi the Atenean. Yup, it seems as if he's going haywire himself, with everything coming and going so fast. From English presentations to poetry deliberations, he has his hands full like a sack of rice in a wicker basket.
But don't think that I'm all scrap and shit 24/7. I also have some sparks of smiles along the way. One of such is yesterday's Heights deliberations. For almost three hours, we criticized submitted works of poetry, trying to determine if the poems are good enough to be published. So what right does an illiterate guy like me to lambaste and harass other people's sweat and tears? I don't know but all I know is that it's better than reading Leithold. Making fun of other people's poems with funny titles and subjects (e.g. Winnie the Pooh), is delightful but when one of your poems is on the spotlights, it gets a little sweaty, just like Vix's case. Sadly, her two poems didn't make it. Nonetheless, she maintained her composure while her works are being mercilessly hammered and scrutinized. Good thing my story is still a good distance away from the maws and paws of the ravagers.
But it still doesn't change the fact - I'm going haywire!
Read the whole article here!