Symptoms of Cretinism

I am such a Philistine. I only just learned that Jesse Spencer and Jennifer Morrison are engaged in real life! Damn. Damn! Such is life, that I once again have to pick up the pieces of my broken dreams. LOL.

Ever since high school, one of my most fervent dreams - besides owning a Lamborgini, winning a big literary award, and seeing the cherry blossoms in Japan - was to be the proud owner of a respectable stubble of beard on my chin. I'm almost 24, and the best I can manage is a very, very pathetic version of the beard Gordon Liu strokes in Kill Bill vol. 2. My brother has fared off much better than myself in this respect, his growth making him look older despite being born 4 years later than me. It helps that he also sports a pair of black rimmed eyeglasses, thereby completing his angas-slash-rocker-type-slash-intellectual look. Argh. =============== You might think - if there are in fact, any people out there who read my crap - that I write this out of the sheer boredom of my office existence, but on the contrary, this is just something I need to put out lest I'm driven insane by all the TAGALOG pages I have to go through today. See? Argh.

At last, Hugh Laurie wins something. For his performance of the doctor we all love to hate, Hugh Laurie received the Best Actor Award for Drama in Television for House: MD. W00t! ====================== In related news, Sacha Baron Cohen won Best Actor for a Musical or Comedy in a Motion Picture for Borat : Cultural Learnings of America. His quote of the night: "This movie was a life-changing experience. I saw some amazing, beautiful, invigorating parts of America but I saw some dark parts of America, an ugly side of America, a side of America that rarely sees the light of day. "I refer of course to the anus and testicles of my co-star Ken Davitian . 'Ken, when I was in that scene and I stared down and saw your two wrinkled golden globes on my chin, I thought to myself, `I'd better win a bloody award for this.' And then, when my 300 pound co-star decided to sit on my face and squeeze the oxygen from my lungs, I was faced with a choice death or to breathe in the...

My boss had fit just now, cruelly berating - in front of everybody - some guy from utility over some trivial thing. I've never seen her like that; I guess it has something to do with the guy being from utility. It really doesn't seem to matter that the stone age-slash-hunting gathering days are millions of years past; it all still boils down to who has the most power. It may have taken different shapes and forms throughout the years, but its essence remains the same; from "Give me your woman and your potato because I have bigger stick" to "If you don't have as much moolah (or connections) as I do, f*ck off." As time passes and years find you, you'll also find many a man (or woman) who fancies you to be beneath him or her, and you shall always be dealt with according to your perceived station. Right and wrong or reason won't matter one whit; only power. It seems that the conjured-up images of megalomaniacs who laugh diabolically and think themsel...

Its crunch time again - the first of many more to come this year - and I once again find myself crouched in front of my computer, updating progress and files and proofing pages. Naturally all the normal people have gone home and eaten their dinners and gone to bed; I envy them. ======================== Gentleman Alone by Pablo Neruda (Translated by Mike Topp) The young maricones and the horny muchachas, The big fat widows delirious from insomnia, The young wives thirty hours' pregnant, And the hoarse tomcats that cross my garden at night, Like a collar of palpitating sexual oysters Surround my solitary home, Enemies of my soul, Conspirators in pajamas Who exchange deep kisses for passwords. Radiant summer brings out the lovers In melancholy regiments, Fat and thin and happy and sad couples; Under the elegant coconut palms, near the ocean and moon, There is a continual life of pants and panties, A hum from the fondling of silk stockings, And women's breasts that glisten like eye...

And just like that, it all ends. The holidays draw to a close - too bad the crime rate that goes with it won't - and everything's back to normal. I once again have to force myself out of bed every morning to get to work on time, then trudge through morning and evening rush hour every day from Mondays to Fridays, and then I can't look forward to any more additional moolah in my payslip. At least there won't be any more annoying Christmas songs (especially the ones from Wille Revillame) and no more annoying firecrackers. ------------- I have never been one for New Year's resolutions; I believe that if you want to change something, it's kinda lame to wait for the changing of a year to resolve to do it. I do hope for more good things though. ------------- Okay, back to work.

It's frustrating to see how much my writing has deteriorated during these past few months. Writers I once thought were stupid, well, are still stupid, but if before I dismissed them as beneath me (Yes, quite arrogant, I know, thank you.), in terms of skill, I now find myself equal to them, if not much, much, worse. I shall not speak any further on this subject - for now at least - lest I end up embarrassing myself more than I have already. --------- Just a bit more, and I can finally immerse myself in the euphoria of the upcoming long weekend; and hopefully, in a few more things.

In the middle of my travels to the end of the last deadline of the year (yay!), I found myself in Neil Gaiman's blog - which I haven't been to recently - and saw this wonderful link to some pictures from the upcoming Stardust movie. And because I am such a cheesy, melodramatic, sap, I have loved Stardust since the day I started reading page one. I can't wait to see how the movie adaptation will turn out. The great Mr. Gaiman himself is involved in the production, so I think its not going to be half-bad, at the very least. The picture on top shows Tristran and Victoria Forester. The only beef I have with this is that Claire Daines is playing Yvaine. I don't know why, but I have never liked Claire Daines. Looking at the photo below - I can't help but wonder if this is as good as it gets. And I don't mean that in a good way. Nevertheless, I am looking forward to catching this film on the big screen and owning a personal copy on DVD. And then after Stardust, there...

Lesson 1: You cannot count on people to do the right thing. You just can't. It doesn't matter how much you explain or how much in the right you are, people will never understand; you're wrong, and they're right. End of conversation. Lesson 2: People are like horses. I said just a few hours ago that people are like horses with blinders, who see little else than what's in front of them. Lesson 3: People will never own up to their mistakes. Especially when they're higher up on the food chain. Even if they just think they are. More often than not, they'd rather that you end up as something resembling a meat shield, rather than own up. The only difference is that the bullets are figurative. Lesson 4: The guy at the bottom of the food chain gets creamed ALL the time. Lesson 5: You're expendable until the day you die. Lesson 6: People don't care if you've done your best (and they haven't). Lesson 7: People will always want to deal on their own ter...

--------------------- People have this habit of always jumping to judgments and labelling this and that like they know everything; in truth, they're like horses with blinders, oblivious to everything except what's in front of them, spurred on by irrational emotions, misdirected anger, and faulty reasoning. It's enough to make me lose my faith in the human race altogether. Everything's always subjective, never objective. Things are never seen as the multi-faceted matters that they are. The episodes are always spur of the moment things - without a second thought to past actions that might have proven contradictory to the conclusion. It's always never their fault; always their situation to be considered. It's like you need to be dying before you f*cking factor into anything. You do your best, only to be misjudged in the end. It makes me wonder what difference would it make had I lived up to the labels and the judgments. I probably might have gotten much more out of...

Today is not a good day. At least so far.

I have posted this - thing - in an effort to add some color to this drab and dead thing that is my blog. Taken from Peachy's t3h 1337 Doughnut Factory . And because I have successfully huffed and puffed my deadline away and I'm B-O-R-E-D. Very. And the stuff I've been waiting for hasn't arrived yet... T_T Anyways. Whoa. Really now. At first glance, this might be a good thing, but it really isn't. I will not expound on this further, but this really isn't a good thing - no, sirree. ----------- I have only recently discovered that Alan Moore's 'Watchmen' is going to be made into a movie. And that 'Thank You For Smoking' is already showing. W00t! ----------- What do you get when you team up with Zeus and he's a big, big, big, big, big, l4mz0r n00b? You lose, of course. >.

The past few days have been pure frustration. A number of significant "things" that I've been waiting for for quite some time now haven't arrived yet - and I still have no idea when it will - and all the while I'm huffing and puffing to blow my deadline away. "Every thing's conditional. You just can't always anticipate the conditions." - House, Son of Coma Guy The only thing that seems good recently is the seeming revival - in my eyes at least - of the latest episode of House: MD that I've managed to watch despite everything. Of late, House seemed to have lost some of his scathing and sardonic wit, which may be due to the entrance of Detective Tritter into the Season 3 story arc, or it may be just plain old sloppy writing on the part of whoever churns out the scripts. Nevertheless, the last episode managed to get me gunning to find time to watch the remaining episodes I haven't seen - maybe sometime during the weekend. ----------- I don...

I am really, really, really Grinch-y right now. The holidays may be about good cheer, but hell, there are no rainbows and sunshine and Santa Claus. Not today there isn't. What's so razzle dazzle about Christmas anyway? The season, I mean. If not for the 13th month pay and the Christmas bonuses for some lucky bastards (not like me), I say do away with it completely. Yes, I know Christ was born on Christmas day (or at least the date symbolizes the day), but the whole "He died for the sins of the world" seems to have been swallowed up by the whole "Santa gimme a present!" mentality. I mean, since I can remember, people've abbreviated Christmas as "X-mas." Giving and loving my ass. That Christ, the Son of God, the Savior of Mankind, has been now reduced to an "X", that just says it all. The avarice never ends! "I want golf clubs. I want diamonds. I want a pony so I can ride it twice, get bored and sell it to make glue." Look, I ...

It was always the rain. Every drop seemed to contain a moment of his life – his first kiss, his first love, the first time he made love, his first kill, the first time he ceased to be seen – the first time he ceased to be remembered. The first drops always started like that – all the firsts in his life. And as the drizzle turned into an honest-to-goodness shower, he would then see himself listening to the white skinned men and women teach the children to read and write; holding his long dead wife in his arms; helplessly watching the massacre of his tribesmen; walking unseen through the crowds in the malls; watching his father make fire from sticks; listening to his grandfather’s tales of legendary heroes and wonderful gods; sitting under the stars, roasting a boar he caught, centuries ago. Like raindrops they would fall, and flash before his eyes - his memories - without order and arrangement, slowly and then in torrents; and then again, like the rain, they would fall to the ground, fo...

I haven't got around to posting anything lately, since I haven't found the time to think of anything decent to put here - as if I put anything decent here to begin with. I won't start ranting, even though I've much to rant about, especially since it's a Monday, and I so dislike Mondays. So I'm going to be a lazy ass again and just post a list of upcoming movies I'm going to keep an eye on. You can find the trailers on Apple.com. 1. Pan's Labyrinth 2. Eragon 3. Smokin' Aces (although Alicia Keys as an assasin seems like a really dubious idea to me) 4. Tenacious D in the Pick of Destiny 5. Zodiac 6. The Holiday (I'm a sucker for Nancy Meyer romantic comedies) 7. Venus 8. Spiderman 3 9. Stardust 10. 300 11. Thank You For Smoking And last of course, is Ghost Rider. Did I mention Ghost Rider? Yeah, Ghost Rider.

Tingnan mo naman o, kung kailan kailangan ko ng bisyo, saka ko nadiskubre na may DOTA-han pala sa tabi ng opis namin. Ayos, makakapaglaro ako ulit. DOTA ang magiging droga ko. W00t! Ang problema ko na lang ngayon eh kailangan kong pigilan yung urge na mag-cutting-opis. Tim, hindi ka college, bawal na mag-cutting. Mag-trabaho ka nga, tukmol! LOL. Okay. Enough with the Tagalog. Its time to be t3h 1337 n00b again! rawr! ph34r my t3h 1337 n00b 5k177z! Weeeee! Okay. Its Friday. I'm crazy. I know.

Still hung-over (yet again) from the weekend break, going back to work and facing the two-day deadline isn't all peaches and rainbows at all. And when you add all my recent woes these past few days, I am all but dead inside. Why do these things always keep happening to me? Damn it.

It couldn't have been said any better: An idea is not a story. I wish I (or my parents) were rich enough so I could afford to stay at home and bum around, just reading stories and just trying to write. What's the use in having a dozen ideas flitter and flutter about inside my head if I'm too busy or too tired to try to expound on them? It's really annoying that all the money has to fall into the laps of morons who spend it all on overpriced coffee and overpriced clothes. Yes, I'm bitter, aren't I?

As some of you may know, my grandfather passed away recently, and I had to leave the sprawling metropolis of Manila to attend the funeral in Bicol. Funerals being funerals, there in't really much to say - the women with their sobbing and weeping, and the men with their watery eyes and their silence. Listening to the final funeral service, walking behind the funeral car on the way to cemetery - these are normal fixtures of ceremony when somebody dies. Finality comes as the coffin is slowly lowered into the ground, and as the stone lid is placed on top of the rectangular hole and cemented shut, one finally comes to terms with the fact that the person whom you've known your whole life, that adorable and jolly old man who liked to shout "Tsya na!" and "Open, open!" has gone for good. To quote Neil Gaiman from the Sandman Vol. 7 - Brief Lives: "You are mortal: it is the mortal way. You attend the funeral, you bid the dead farewell. You grieve. Then you conti...