YouTube Surfing: Puccini's opera thing

I came across two videos of singing auditions: one of a husky, muscular black guy and a small 9 year old from Holland. They were singing the same song. Here's the tube review.

So I was bored on a Sunday afternoon, not really wanting to do anything, so I did what most people do when they don't want to do anything: click video after video on YouTube and get 10 minutes of funny. That's how I got to these videos. If you're like me, you'd do what I do to this first one: skip the sob story and get to the part where he actually shows his talent. It's at 1:07.

Then at the side, I found an entirely different person singing the same song.

Like shit. Here's the lyrics. It's Giacomo Puccini's O Mia Babbino Caro, a song about how someone loves her dad so much she'd jump off a river for him. 

O mio babbino caro,
mi piace è bello, bello;
vo'andare in Porta Rossa
a comperar l'anello!
Sì, sì, ci voglio andare!
e se l'amassi indarno,
andrei sul Ponte Vecchio,
ma per buttarmi in Arno!
Mi struggo e mi tormento!
O Dio, vorrei morir!

Word du jour: emacity

I've always wondered why this word is extremely similar with emaciated, which represents the complete opposite side of the spectrum. Here's the lexicon.

Of course everyone knows that the word emaciated means extremely weakened or thin, which probably stemmed from not spending money. Yeah, English is kinda weird.

This is a belated blog post, which was supposed to be published yesterday. Unfortunately, I was out camping. Yeah summah.

I'm drionk when (while) im rwriting this blogpost.

So I'm writing this blogpost drunk. Even when I'm intoxicated, I still adhere to my commitment: opne blogpost per night. Here's the plaintext,.

I am not using my BHackspace button to correct my sp-elling and grammar mistakes, to see how I could type when druink. This will help me when I'm sober.

Kinda funny, eh. Me and my buddy Scott went, on a whinm, to Colonial. It was shit full of dbags. BNackwards hat, YOLIO-spouting douchenuiggets. Like seriously.

Then we wnt to a gay bar, 302. Kuinda funny, cuz it's not my thing. I found out though, on Facebook, that it's their black light party versus their competibng gay bar's (Divas, like 3 blocks away() drag queen [artyy. We went ot the black light partym, of course, withoutn Scott knowing what's happening. All we saw at the front door were shirtless boys and it was until they came in the bar that I realixed that they were shirtless cuz thery had this funky glow in the dark paint o they body n shit

So we party, I was tipsy cuz of the predrinks we diid, raspberry... o, absolut raspberry anjd some funky rockstar ice tea shit. sop we drunk that, then s i mean he bought me s a couple more then i got really buxxzzed.

im not even capitalizing my sentences [poperly am i. so yeah. he couldnt get somebitchez and i couldnt get some too so we just baild and tryed to prep for the camping tomorrow, which he ibvited me. When I was wdrunk. Like seriously? So i said ok and he was like yay.

anyway, yeah. i ended up saying yes to a camping tri[ tomorrow to some lake. i hate capmping. i told himm tnat. but whatever, well see how it goes.

cuz whyat;s 20-something life withoug trying something new eh? i hope i dont get devoursd mby mosyuiqtoes on the way there. im just gonna stay in the fkin trailer n get woozy. shit's goona go do0wn bitch .

end transmission slut. im boozing.

This is why I can't have a website

It has been ultimately my goal to actually have an online presence, aside from all the social media stuff I have: and trust me, I have an account on pretty much everything. Here's the say.

I am still in the works of thinking of a snappy title and a domain name for this blog. Also, I plan on reviewing stuff I find, like movies, or good lines I have found from books, or how shitty Nicki Minaj's new single is. I think those are enough material for a decent blog-type website, don't you think?

But yeah. I need to spend quite a bit of time on the design of the blog, which I'm going to work on on the next two weeks of freedom I would get before school starts.

So, this is why I can't have a website: I'm all over the place. I don't think anything is worth spitting out a blogpost about, because usually my only comment about something can be squeezed into more or less 140 characters, which is what Twitter is about. I know pieces of interesting stuff here and there, I have quite a short opinion on something, because it's just in me to rant on about random stuff three sentences at a time.

Maybe actually making a blogpost about the stuff I know will enhance my writing skills. Maybe.

A new blogface... again.

I'm trying to get myself blogging everyday, about random ramblings I have about... stuff. And I will try to drastically change the mood of this blog. Here's the plaintext.

Over the years, I've got lots of ideas on what to write about: only that I didn't usually always have the time to write about it. I, for my fall and winter resolution, will try to change that. Hopefully, by writing more interesting stuff, I will be able to direct traffic to this blog and get more readership. Besides, misery is best shared with company, eh?

I will try to write not just about my day and all the other cryptic life metaphors I think of while in unlikely places, but I will also try to rant over things around me: pop culture, music, how awesome the last movie I saw was, how enraged I was that the chick who passed me has mismatched bags and shoes.

Random picture.

It's a new direction for me, really. I will try go from the dismal, miserable and depressed connoisseur of cryptic communication to the guy who just talks too much about stuff he sees. I have no idea what will come out of this, but hey, this is a new project and nothing is more exciting as a brand new project.

So bring out the champagne and smash it across the starboard, because things are gonna get really messy around here.

P.S. I think I need a new snappier name, since I am not dealing with crypticism [sic] that much anymore. A blog title that.. rolls around in your tongue, that feels smooth when you say it, but has hints of the verve of pop culture. I should think more about this soon.

Rides for grownups and overpriced donuts

It's just two weeks and three days remaining until September begins again, and I will try to challenge myself to write a blogpost every day for the remaining days of August. Here's the cipher... and the plaintext.

Just a couple of days ago, I went to the Saskatoon Exhibition, a yearly 5-day event in August where the Prairieland Park is filled with shops and food stores and midway rides. I wasted $103 on a Friday, and because this is the fifth year in which I have went, I got pretty tired of all the rides.

It's way more colourful at night.

One of the rides I went to was something called the Alpine Bobs. It was a staple of the midway: swinging cars going up and down a circular track at high speed. I could close my eyes and imagine that this is what the Olympic bobsledders feel, except that this ride, it's got more bumps.

At the time, I was thinking about how stupid I was to spend such a ridiculous amount of money on rides that I pretty much went on for the past four years, and how I dared to go here despite the fact that school is fast approaching and I should save more money for books and other grown-up stuff.

So I started to philosophize.

I was making life metaphors while on this ride.

I was on the ride, and as it whoozed me across the alpine bob track, going up and down and around and around as it throws centripetal forces against my body, I tried my hardest to avoid bumping into the hard plastic chassis of the car I am in. I was struggling against it, trying hard not to hit myself against any hard surface, until I just stopped, and let go.

I let myself be taken for the ride, bracing for the hard turns and the violent motions of the ride. And surprisingly, it wasn't that bad. 

It got me thinking: if only I also just went with all the violent motions and sudden sharp turns that my life right now is throwing at me, that I stop resisting and just sail through all these... turbulence, it wouldn't be as violent and harmful as I originally thought them to be.

Because from the queue line, the ride seems harsh and cruel and unforgiving. It is once you step on the ride that you realize... how fun it actually is. Eventually, a teenage girl's horrified screams of nervousness and terror eventually becomes peals of laughter and enjoyment. Because that's pretty much how the ride, much like life, is supposed to be taken: horrifying, but when you look back at it, you'll smile and think, "I can't believe I just survived all that!"

And of course the rapid motions and sudden turns are necessary, to make a ride more exciting. Who wants to go on a ride that just moves you back and forth? It's gotta have to thrash around, it's gotta have to drop you from a hundred feet, it's gotta whirl and tilt and spin and swing to make it a ride worth 6 tickets, of course.

Similarly, who wants to live a life that's just humdrum and drudgery? It's gotta have panache, of course. it's gotta have risk and love and friendship and heartbreak and betrayal and success to make a life worth living. 

And no matter how violent the ride is, when it's all over, you'll look back... at all the memories, all the hurt, all the thrashing and whirling and spinning and tilting that you've experienced so far, and you'll smile. Because you've survived all that, and you're ready to survive a lot more.

So then you go to the next queue line, and when it's your turn, you buckle up... and enjoy the ride.

The conundrum of connection

After watching a video about social media killing social connections, I have realized quite a couple of things. Here's the cipher.

We are living in the Internet age: the era of mobile technology, immersive video games, and ever-changing
status updates on our social media profiles. We see and experience life like we have never experienced before: literal gigabytes of information that can be accessed by a quick click of the Search button. The average modern smartphone is more powerful than the entire console used to send a man to the moon.

I think the internet makes it harder for
us to be happy.

But, I acquiesce, that this ease of information we have is the reason why people are feeling more and more lonely every day. I think it is because they see the entire world and then look scornfully at themselves in their current state. Whoever haven't browsed profiles at a dating website, and asked themselves, "Why do all the attractive people have to be so far away from me?"

This desire to be in close proximity with attractive people leads to a feeling of loneliness, a creeping sense of depression, a persistent thought that everyone in their city is unattractive compared to the supermodels and pop stars and swooners who live hundreds of miles away.

However, this global view of the world blinds the person's eyes to the personal connections he makes. He does not see the attractive lady sitting on a park bench, the adorable puppy who gleefully fetches a thrown stick, the supportive friends he goes out with on a weekend night. He fails to savor these little moments that should build him up and instead longs for the caress of the "perfect one": he so much aspires to get to Oz without stopping to admire the majesty of the yellow road he's travelling on.

He looks at the majestic stars through a telescope but he does not see the chair holding him up.

The person should then realize that he is not alone in the world: he is just alone on the internet.

Cheers to the freakin' weekend

Over the past 7 months, I have become drunk more often than the past 3 something-ish years of my life in Canada. Here's the plaintext.

This year in university was what I could say the most exhilarating year I have been on. After being included in someone's circle of friends (who I just met online too), I found myself going to house parties, making friends with people I barely knew, and having to pretend to be sick because I'm way hung over.

I met my buddy Brandon over our university confessions page. He had an interestingly awesome last name, so I added him on Facebook. It was only until the first few minutes of sending the request that I realized that this is the boyfriend of our family friend's sister. I was mortified. I very rarely add family friends as "friends" on any of my social media profiles, let alone my own relatives. But I went with the flow and let everything take its course.

He went to my other friend's Halloween party, and that's where it all started. He met a guy in the party who I shook hands with as well, and found out that he throws awesome parties. I went to one, initially awkward at what mess I'm in, going to a party where I knew only one person.

Alcohol made it tons easier for me to say hi to random people, shake their hands, and talk with. I decided to bring a camera to one of his parties. Halfway through the night, I began taking pictures with my hefty DSLR, fueled by my alcohol-induced mind. I was a shutterbug. I took some 200ish pictures, and the next day gave me great surprises.

Looking from the shots the previous night, I instinctively knew when to shoot, and at what angle to do it. I was shocked at how perfectly candid all my pictures were, and I pretty much documented every nook and cranny of the party. I posted them on my profile, and as they set my pictures as their profile and cover photos, I believe that they thought the same. I decided drunk pictures are a good idea, and I lugged along my trusty camera to house parties ever since.

I went from being a random unknown university boy to a guy who regularly gets invitations to go out for drinks. Sometimes, I wonder what it would have been like if I did not add this boy who's the boyfriend of our family friend's sister on Facebook.

I would probably still be skulking on my bed every weekend, typing how alone I am in this tundra. Before, I asked for even just an acquaintance, a small set of friends I can maybe go for a Starbucks with. Now, I have hundreds of them. I can literally post on my Facebook profile and send 80 people knocking at a door, ready to party.

They might not be "share-secrets-with" friends [at least not yet], but hey, you cannot turn down alcohol and all its wonders. After all, misery is best shared with company, eh?

Hello, old friend.

I'm back. And as always, here's the plaintext.

I have written on this blog 7 months ago, and I can say that indeed, a lot have (has? I can't English) changed since then. My last post was about my little Dungeons and Dragons group. It has been a while, but this summer, I have to leave the group temporarily to fulfill the demanding requirements of a new job I have just gotten.

I am back in the material handling and warehouse industry. Two summers ago, I was working for Federated Co-Operatives as an order picker for their warehouse. My supervisor gave me a picture on how I fit in the system, and what I do is I pack the grocery, produce, and dairy supplies of every Co-Op store in Saskatchewan.

I lift boxes. And put them in a pallet. For 8 hours. And if that sounds easy enough, just think that these pallets have to be the same height as me with my hands raised. Filled with all kinds of boxes. And I have to get 85 items an hour, no matter how many cases they want (100 boxes of pop? That's just one item. 84 more to go in the next 60 minutes)

Yes, I work in something similar to this.
Orange and blue as far as the eye can see.

But yeah. Now I work in an eternal -2 degrees Celsius (which is fine by me, due to the sweltering summers coming up)... a little sacrifice I have to make to get a little luxury in life. I get paid way above minimum for lifting up to 50 pounds repeatedly (which is a nice workout for someone as scrawny as I am). I tend to look at the positive things before I start on the 5th, and not look at the fact that I will be exhausted by the end of my shift, and that I won't be able to see my Pathfinder group all summer, and that I have to say goodbye to all the familiar faces and friends I made while I was toasting buns at McDonald's.

It's good to be back here in my blog. It's been a long 7 months, and a lot has (have?) changed.

The hegemony of fantasy

I know the title makes absolutely no sense whatsoever, but forgive me. It rhymes.

Here's the plaintext. So I was supposed to be playing my Thursday game of Pathfinder today. Basically it's Dungeons and Dragons; and if you thought I couldn't get any geekier, I made a decision last year to awkwardly join this little fantasy role playing group... and it was the best decision I have ever had in my life.

So in Pathfinder you and a group of friends make a character sheet that you fancy, and you go exploring landscapes as someone called a game master describes it in vivid detail... and depending on how you made your character, you carry out actions that affect the game.

I was a wizard. Then I drowned.

Ultimately mourning over my first character's death, I made a new character: an elf archer.

That one drowned as well. 

But it got reincarnated. 

As a chick. With wings.

I have 2 sets of this, so far.

I remember the times when I first joined this group. It was the same month, September, last year. I was only invited cuz I was bored, and I was not busy Thursdays anyway, and man it was the most awkward day in my life. 

I went in with the usual prejudice about Dungeons and Dragons: that its players are those big guys with square glasses who haven't heard of God's marvelous gift to man called a bathtub. But in this group, none of that stereotype exists.

After a year of playing, I can say that they have been the most awesome group of people I have met. We killed goblins and undead and giants together, and after countless deaths, I have gotten the hang of Pathfinder. I even bought new dice today, which is awesome. I bought a cool d20 die with blue and red swirled on it, and four d8s. I don't know why I bought 4 d8s... probably it was a frustration buy because I couldn't find any good miniatures that look like my current character.

And with my new abilities and spells because I leveled up (I role-played that I went scouring the town for magical scrolls, which I meticulousl studied and is now part of my repertoire), I can't wait to rain death on every goblin that stands in my way. Oh and if you're wondering, my character is a female Aasimar arcane archer, who both excels in shooting arrows and casting spells. Pretty wicked.

I had a Coke slushie today.

And if you've been stalking my blogpost well enough, you'll notice that it was what I always got for at 7-Eleven. A plain Coke slushie.

To further my advances into my old habits, I went and ate instant "ramen" noodles at 11 o clock in the evening, watching Dexter and tweeting about it. Thing is, all of these stuff is what I used to do the same time 2 years ago. And as I found myself immersed in my old habits, I felt a deep sense of nostalgia.

That this is how things are supposed to be.

But you see, things have changed. I've met so much people (and lost most of them), I'm still stuck up in school and can't even talk to my seatmate, I've cut my hair shorter... but I fell back into my old nuances. Maybe it's me wanting to go back to a time when I was merely a spectator of thousands of worlds described in the written word, when life was Coke slushies, pepperoni pizzas, and late-night TV marathons. Maybe I wanted to go back to a time when life was simpler.

But then again maybe I'm just longing for a friend still.

I've read my old blogposts (which mind you, was made about a year ago), and I could embarrasingly say that I am still encountering the same problems as I had back then: still at a loss for words.

I would kill for one of these.

Gone are the times that I have written dramatic blogposts, treating everything as a cryptic metaphor for something else. I am not promising though, that I would update this blog more often (which I always do, by the way, everytime I have had a long period of time between posts... which nobody reads anyway) Probably the future me will have an easier time reading about posts that detail what happened in my day, without having to worry about what satte of mind I was in when I was writing such posts.

So today, I went to school. I tried with all my might to not skip a class, and miraculously, I did. For the first time in this week, I was able to attend all of my classes. Awesome. Then I bought some awesome dice (I'm into Pathfinder by the way), had a Coke slushie, played some Crysis 2... and gave up when the objective was too hard to accomplish.

Looking at it, it was probably a very average day for me. I was actively trying to ignore the bugging compulsion of regularly checking my phone for... messages, and I succeeded. I kept myself busy by watching Dexter and thinking about life when it was still simple.

Gaming 101

I'm quite the professional when it comes to collecting shelfware: software (in my case, video games) that only get played for the first three hours then left on the shelf to gather dust.

Right now, I have 25 Xbox titles, only four of which I have been able to finish till the end: Splinter Cell: Conviction, Halo: Reach, and the Left 4 Dead duo.

Yeah, I really couldn't play this character much.

Saying that I'm a casual gamer would be the understatement of the century. Don't get me wrong, I got all giddy and hopped all over the place when Halo 4 was released, I drooled over the gameplay of Final Fantasy XIII, but I couldn't seem to get myself to finish an entire game within a week, which is the norm... I think.

Talk about taking slacking off to a whole new level. If there's a game I always play, it would be the multiplayer games of Left 4 Dead 2, mainly because it always changes with the dumbness level of your coplayers, and because you get to shoot things that don't shoot back.

Now I'm in the penultimate mission for Halo 4, and I'm having a rough time with it. This is usually the time when I put it in the shelf to gather dust. But then again, it's fucking Halo 4, the first in the Reclaimer trilogy. I should at least finish it on Normal difficulty.

So when my buddies ask me what video game I like best, I typically reply with nothing, and when asked which one I'm good at, I reply, "Uhm... Spy? At uhm... Team Fortress 2?" Yeah, because the Spy's only job in the whole game is to hide until he can backstab someone.

Frex, I suck at video games. Hopefully it would come off with more practice.

I put on my robe and wizard hat.

The megaphone

Sometimes when I write a post in this blog, it feels as if I'm talking to no one. That I'm just a small squeak amongst the thundering voices around me.

It's red. I like red.

Sometimes I miss the activity. The buzz of comments around my posts, the countless eyes that read my thoughts and my cryptic messages. I was quite the popular kid when I was in elementary, so I took this for granted. Because everyone had their eyes on me. Because in the same school where I studied, my mom was a teacher. Because I was favored, studied, liked, investigated. Every move I make is observed.

The attention was all mine.

And now, here I am, writing to a blog that anyone barely notices. Like in the real world, my voice is a dot in the myriad dots that punctuate the internet. A small contributor to the vast knowledge of society, the massive archive of human thoughs and feelings, all within the bits and bytes of the digital world.

But maybe then I liked the solace. Maybe, I liked how only I can read my blogs, that it just serves as a personal archive of my own thoughts, unblemished by the pressure of pleasing my audience everytime I click Publish. That in my own little space on the internet, I could be me.

Then I shrug all these thoughts, and think, Whether my blog is popular or not, I still have trouble expressing my feelings plain and bare on the internet, anyway. That I still hide my thoughts in cryptic forms, that I still take pleasure in bewildering my readers so as for them not to have an actual glimpse of what I'm talking about.

Cucumbers.

Good luck finding the meaning behind that. In the end, it doesn't matter how popular or unpopular I am, it's whether or not I trust anyone with my thoughts that matter.

Pizza. 

Unspoken words and inducted thoughts

Many have I written blogposts that touch a specific topic so personal I feel that writing them is an invasion of my personal space. If my drafts folder ever get published, you'd view me as a different person.

I mean, this blog *is* meant to be personal, it's just that some things I want to talk about are not really the stuff you would like to say to a random stranger across the street. Just think of it this way: would you just go up to a random passerby and interject, "I'm going commando today!"? I don't think so.

But then, I'm not implying that my personal, most private thoughts consist of my preference for wearing underwear, or lack thereof, but it just goes to show that I need someone to tell stuff to, without prejudice or any other judgment. A confidant. A breathing journal. And probably, a friend.

I have written posts about trust and love and freedom and independence, but they never see the light of day. Probably I was playing the role of the cryptic connoisseur a bit too much, probably my real intentions are muddled up in a sea of confusing lexicon that nobody would understand. But then again, nobody *would* understand. I'm a Scorpio, the most secretive, most misunderstood sign of the zodiac.

I was once punished for my own honesty. Writing my thoughts down led me into serious trouble, something that reminded me of pain and crying and all that desperation. Then I vowed never to write my emotions again: that never would I ever put my feelings down on a piece of paper where everyone could read it. I must lock up all my feelings in my mind, compose long blog posts in the recesses of my consciousness, where only I could read.

I have stories I dare not tell anyone. Not publicly, at least. I think it's justified for me to think that everybody has one: that one fact about them that they don't want just about anyone to know. Like a vegetarian who adores bacon, or a football player who longs for the loving comfort of a gentle woman. Unlike others, though, I don't have anyone to share it with. But probably I didn't need one anyway.

If only opening the lock was this easy.

But maybe I *do* have someone, I just don't trust them enough. Probably, somewhere out there, one of the people I know are having the exact same thoughts as I do, just waiting for someone like me to trust them with all of their spirit. An unbreakable friendship. Where you tell someone that one thing that will destroy you and trust them not to use it against you.

I don't think I'm even making a persuasive blogpost here. I just wanted to write what I feel about things, which is not my forte, because coming from a scientific background, I always write something with a conclusion. Not all this sappy boo-hooing shit you're reading right now. Is it ever so wrong for me not to just tell anyone how my day went and not go delving into waist-deep philosophical ramblings about life? Probably not.

I guess being cryptic has its disadvantages after all. By hiding my emotions, my real intentions, in the comforting illusion of deception, I shut myself out to the world. Then I go like this, complaining how no one understands me. It's probably my fault then, being so shut out to the people who want to reach out their hands to me, to offer their listening ear to my stories, because maybe, just maybe, one of the people I know sees me as an infinitely interesting person, one whose stories never get stale.

Something nags at me and tells me I might be right. Maybe it's time to break the lock. It might be weird, but I'll try. At least if this blog doesn't work, I hope I have someone to tell it to. I don't say "find" someone because I may have found him/her and not just realized it, but still.

Here's to hopefully getting my trust in the world back again.

Crisp letters on yellow pages

Books. People never really stop loving books. Fifty-first century. By now you've got holovids, direct-to-brain downloads, fiction mist. But you need the smell. The smell of books, Donna. Deep breath! 

That's from a TV show I watch about a time traveller (Hint: he's a Doctor). He was commenting on the persistence of books even in a very advanced civilization like the 51st century. And indeed, it rings true even until today. Nothing better represents the repertoire of the human experience as much as black ink sharply embossed onto white paper.

I just finished reading The Hunger Games trilogy and I should say, it was a very excellent read. The ending left on a very bittersweet note, with me undecided as to be happy or sad for the character. You see, the protagonist of the novel, 16-year-old Katniss Everdeen, is being contested with the love of two men, each of who has a significant impact in her life.

In the end, he has to choose one. And she did. But my point here is not to glorify the work of the author but to... marvel on how the written word can as easily move a person into feeling such emotions, how black ink sharply embossed onto gritty paper can evoke sympathy or hate or love or happiness.

In this age of increasingly technological advances, people getting less and less attention spans are slowly deviating from the methodical patience, the gradual build-up of a book's plot. Within its pages, we establish a link with the characters, we see what they see, and feel what they feel.

Through the written word, we do not just simply gloss our eyes over black ink sharply embossed onto crisp paper, but we become part of the story, we see their lives unfold; their lives exist in our hands as we turn the pages and learn more about them.

It's this... deep connection that we have with a book's characters that cannot be done in any other form of media. While music is medicine for the soul and movies are an escape from reality, books are the doorways to another world. Whether it be a post-apocalyptic Earth governed by a Capitol or a Time Lord who merrily skips all throughout time and space, there's no adventure more exciting than reading from black ink sharply embossed in smooth paper.

We read, then we sympathize with the characters. Then we begin to read more, as our sense of adventure is piqued, until we come to a single book that just strikes us the most. We then read it over and over, trying to absorb every little detail in this one little book that is our all-time favorite. This book which we grew fond of shapes our perception of life in some way. We realize that their stories persist and resonate in the real world, and the black ink sharply embossed onto yellow paper becomes our life's beacon.

I close Mockingjay with a faint smile on my face, and grab the next book on my shelf. Another adventure awaits, as I flip through the first chapter.

Reboot

I'm back. So my last post was in February, which wasa shitload of months ago.

I have a feeling that I should post more on this blog, partly because I have an awesome keyboard that sounds like a typewriter, but partly because some thoughts are just to complex to be squeezed in 140 characters.

Yes, I have been active in Twitter lately, and I am finding it as an awesome medium to have a laugh about life. It really actually depends on your timeline and the people you follow. On my first Twitter account, I only followed two people who regularly have their faces on my timeline. Now my timeline is a mess of retweets, original tweets, and favorites.

In the sea of short bursts of comedic wisdom and hilarious responses, I sometimes find myself composing a tweet, hitting send, and reflecting that I could have expanded on this one idea.

Also, I'm back to probably get some more oomph out of my life. I have since realized something new these past few days; an epiphany, if you will, which I will write about some time in the future. I would like to believe I have slightly changed my view in life.

Indeed, I am still the cryptic connoisseur, hiding true meaning in indecipherable words and contexts, but I will try to make this blog not just as a pillow to weep on but also as a happy listener to tell adventures about. Besides, I will come back to this blog from time to time and remember those memories that I either wanted to change or I wished would last forever.

And yes, you have met me at a strange time in my life.

Coke slushies

One thing you can say about me: I'm a sucker for Coke slushies.

You know how you can mix everything up in the Slurpee machine just so you have a wicked cool-looking fucking Slurpee? Not for me. I'd run to the Coke dispenser and fucking fill my cup with it. No, no Slurpee art with double straws for me. Just plain Coke. Not even Pepsi either. But that's a different story.

My friends go, "You're boring." and I just reply with an apathetic "You don't have my tongue. Fuck off." I like to keep things as simple as possible. If it can be shortened, it will be shortened. That's why I write small, I'm trying to conserve paper. Trees are a valuable natural resource, you know.

They deserve more treatment (idk, maybe like cleaning the air we breathe) than being transformed into paper that you wipe your ass with.

And with that, it kinda makes me sad today. I feel... alone. I try to bypass it by reading about the ramblings of idiots posting in Facebook groups, or the crazy stupid banter of a message board. I looked into my Tumblr profile, played hopscotch with the janitor, watched 2 episodes of my TV show, but something still feels incomplete.

Sometimes being so simple can be so sad. Sometimes... I wish my life would have a shitload of colors, a fucking rainbow of memories and experiences with people who range from the utterly droll to the annoyingly obnoxious. Sometimes, I just wish my Slurpee cup would be extremely huge with fucking slushie art in it made with all the fucking colors of their fucking store.

But then again, I only have a coke slushie.

And I'm perfectly fine with that.

Maybe somewhere out there, someone also likes plain Coke slushies as much as I do.

I still have mine to share.

I'm on fire.

Thing is, I never get bullied. I guess I'm one of the lucky ones who don't. Most of the time, I just sit there, watching everything that's happening. But I'm not a clammy type shy-guy student either. Here's the plaintext.


I don't get bullied because everyone knows me. Yea, I'm one of the popular kids at school, but not to a walk-down-the-centre-of-the-aisle kind of popular. I... just am.

I am smart. Perhaps this is one of the reasons behind my popularity, but who knows? I always come up with clever ideas and comebacks ranging from the witty to the utterly sardonic. One of my classmates confessed being too shy to talk to me because she was afraid I might "diss her off".

So much for Mr. Popular Nice Guy right there. But seriously, I'm a nice boy.

--this is where I start talking to the people this blog is dedicated to--

The Internet is another thing. It's where the roles are reversed. A feeling of online superiority dominates everyone on the Internet. In real life, they are the kids who are oppressed, belonging to a group that is considered the "other guys".

Sorry but I don't need to participate in your acts. Yes, that guy doesn't deserve to be on the Internet, but it's a different thing to band together and shame the fellow.

Everything can be posted on the Internet, and anonymity is why everyone can comment about anything. To that I agree, however, there is a degree of moral decency to which airing your thoughts is limited to. Post too much criticisms, and you'll be merely seen as a jerk.

Besides, most of you might even be posting just because you're riding the bandwagon.


I understand your insatiable need to be known, your desire to be popular. I think it's bad rep though, if your popularity is just earned because you are a "insecure jerk-face who is so full of himself he'll never go hungry."

A little insult here and there is good, but there is a limit to everything. I could stop being such an ethical prude right now and go start bitching on people online. Trust me, you would not like that. So I should stop ranting right now about how wrong you guys are, and retreat to the shadows again.

Sorry, but my Biology teacher told me to be kind to animals.

P.S. Someday, that attitude is what's gonna crush you. 

Star light, star bright.

This is the Pleiades. It is so bright it can be seen even in the busiest cities of the world.

Only thing is, this star cluster is so far away that light itself takes 391 years to reach Earth. Yes, when we look at the Pleiades, we are looking at the light of a star cluster which is older than us.

Even the Sun is quite far away. The light of the Sun takes 8 minutes to reach Earth.

The closest star from our solar system, Proxima Centauri, is so still so far (4 light-years) that if you made a scale model of the Sun with a radius of 30cm, Proxima Centauri needs to be 8514 kilometers away to be accurate. The distance between New York and Los Angeles is 3961 kilometers.

Stars shine so bright and they illuminate our night sky. But what's actually happening is we're looking back in time. Looking at the Pleaides means looking at the light generated 391 years ago. These are the lights of a time way before us, back in the day when we were still young, or probably nonexistent.

And who knows, the star might be a supernova now and we wouldn't even know. If Proxima Centauri dies, we would not know it did until 4 years after, when its light stops shining.

So all these years--since when?--he had been seeing the light of dead stars, long extinguished, yet seemingly still in their appointed places in the heavens.

I am looking at a dead star. What I thought was shining for me, beaming at me, is actually the remnant of a love long due. It's the light from years ago, way back, probably even more. I am looking at the light of a dead star, of a love lost and forgotten.

I remember the memories we had, of the good times we shared. They're all gone now, the light of my sweet little star will vanish sometime.

I look out the window and see the light of Pleiades from 391 years ago.And I think to myself,

It's time to move on.

Fill in the blanks

Get this. I'm not into these blog memes where you have to do shit and spill something about yourself, but this person I know made her answers so impersonal but interesting at the same time I was encouraged to do the same. 


Here's me at an attempt for a meme: Fill in the blanks with what suits you


1. Burgers -- the best food to take on a picnic.
2. I remember the last time I watched a movie back home. It was 500 Days of Summer.  
3. I find how flip flops could mean either footwear or digital circuity computer stuff, funny. 
4. To love someone is to find someone who is so close to you that the line between "him" and "her" becomes very fine.
5. Life is a long hike and it is up to us on what route to travel.
6. When I crave food, it's usually a slab of prime rib of beef au jus marinated in red wine and served medium rare over seasonal vegetables and chicken parmesan.
7. And as for the weekend, tonight (Thursday) I'm looking forward to my parents letting the issue slide, tomorrow my plans include having a blast at the CSSS kick off party.. without busting my wallet that much, and Sunday, I want to be the bastion of academic excellence.