The Thing with Online Social Networks

Ask any person aged 16 to 35 (who has access to the internet) if they are members of any of the online social networks, i.e., Friendster, Multiply, Facebook and the like, and I'm willing to to bet my bottom peso that they most probably are. The fact that the recent decade has seen a phenomenal increase in the membership of these online social networks is a testament to the very basic need of people to socialize, and to a more base extent, to project oneself as someone they aren't. Don't get me wrong, however. Online social networks do have their advantages--for one, they actually help people touch base with old friends, and they could serve as a cool alternative to emails in terms to messaging. But that's about it.

More often than not, the network of friends or contacts of people in online social networks are composed mainly of friends of friends, or people they've only met once, and who they deem worthy to call their friends. In fact, some people even invite complete strangers to be their friends or contacts--something that defeats the purpose of having online social networks as a means of updating oneself on the goings-on of friends or contacts. In effect, these online social networks are merely popularity contests--a race to see who has the most friends or contacts, and who has the most comments or testimonials left by friends and contacts. Not only are they pseudo-popularity contests, but also, these online social networks are a PR tool--an effective way of putting one's best foot forward, even though most of the time, the best foot may actually just be what one aspires to be. Indeed, if you carefully read the "About Me" pages of Friendster and Facebook or Multiply, you would be surprised at the fact that most of your friends would have probably read Plato's "The Republic" or the Bible, or even Leo Tolstoy's "War and Peace" or "Anna Karenina"! Wow. And you thought that the book "Ibong Adarna", which you read in High School but deemed fit to put in your "About Me-Books Read" Profile was gonna impress. And what's funny is, you never knew that you had such scholarly friends, or that in fact, your friends, at the very least, actually read.

What's also creepy is the fact that I know more of my online friends (meta-friends) than I do most of my real-world friends. And I'm sure most of my online friends know more about me than I do myself. Obviously, they know that I like drinking myself to death, given the fact that I'm always on the receiving end of a barrage of all types of drinks in Facebook. They also know that I'm most likey to corrupt the minds of young people, or most likely to get rich or die trying. My online friends also know that I liked to be poked a lot, or being cock-blocked, or being high-fived, etc. How very presumptuous! In the first place, only my real-world friends who are also my online friends have the right to poke or send me drinks since they probably know me well enough to figure out what my likes and dislikes are. All others should get to know me first. While online social networks can be fun to use, sometimes, the annoyance that I get from friends and contacts who are "feeling" gets to me real good.

8 and Counting

My org batch recently celebrated its 8th batch birthday without the pomp that usually attends my batch's birthday celebration. In fact, it was a fairly quiet birthday celebration at my house, with only a few other select orgmates outside the batch in attendance. Despite the no-frills feel of the party, I'd like to think that it was one of the best, if not the best party we've ever had--evidenced by the fact that the Sweet Inspiration Mongolian buffet, the keg and 5 cases of beer that we ordered, including the several bottles of Johnnie Walker Black and Blue, were consumed by the time the last orgmate left at around 5am. Everyone had his fill of song and games, as there was a long line of songs in the karaoke system waiting to be sung by over-confident singer orgmates, followed closely by a long line of athlete-wannabes eagerly waiting to play the Nintendo Wii console. By the end, everyone was buzzed on his own accord, and not even the most junior orgmates could complain that there was any hint of irrational seniority that pervaded the air that night. It was truly a night to be enjoyed, for the spirit of true camaraderie and genuine kinship was, as it is true for all our batch birthday celebrations, present.

It was especially fun to see my org batchmates, 8 years older than the first time we met each other, goofing around and doing the same antics we did 8 years ago. Perhaps it was also through divine Providence that none of my org batchmates whom I so detest made an appearance that night, lest they ruin everyone's night altogether. What made the night more special was the presence of my org buddies, save for Doc Dasma (who was doing the rounds in the hospital) and the basketball player (who had already gone home to the province for the holidays). Ever so dependable, they helped me entertain the guests, and were the last to leave, helping me clean up the hundreds of bottles strewn all over the place. Also worthy of note, and very consistent, is this orgmate who, when he says that he will go (despite the fact that he couldn't stay up late and couldn't drink much), always finds time to go (and even stay til late) and drink even a couple of bottles (if only to humor me, probably). These are the orgmates I'd go the extra mile for--people who can depend on me because I know that I can depend on them, too. Irksome, however, was the fact that a couple of orgmates who confirmed their attendance did a no-show, and did not even bother with the simple courtesy of informing me that they wouldn't be following anymore, especially since I included them in the headcount for the food preparations. How very disappointing, to say the least. I hope they all curl up and die for all I care. I'll make a mental note never to agree to any favors they ask of me again. Another hitch was the car accident that my boiler room buddy got involved in. Thank God he's OK, although I couldn't help but feel a bit responsible for him figuring in the accident. Next time, I'd be sure to serve some hot soup or congee, or coffee to help my guests sober up before they leave for home.

It was also nice hanging out with the younger orgmates. It made me realize that they are more mature than most people in their age group, brought about by the training that the org gives us. Surely, PROPER guidance from the older orgamtes can help them do well in whatever things they want to do or accomplish for themselves. My org batch party also reminded me that old habits, good or bad, never die. On this matter, my org buddies would know what I'm talking about. It's best to leave it at that! Happy Holidays everyone!

Swan Song

For those who aren't familiar with the term "swan song", it is actually an idiom referring to a final theatrical or dramatic appearance, or any final work or accomplishment. [please see for reference: http://en. wikipedia.org/wiki/Swan-song] It generally carries the connotation that the performer is aware of his or her imminent demise [or in this case, retirement] and is expending his or her last breath on one magnificent final effort. [Ibid] The term originated from a reference to an ancient belief that the mute swan is completely mute during its lifespan, but may sing one heartbreakingly beautiful song just before it dies. [Ibid]

First thing's first--no one is going to die. In fact, the story behind this post revolves around the preparations for my upcoming birthday, where I would have reached a significant age in my life. In the months leading to my birthday, I have been ruminating on many things past--my accomplishments, my failures, my relationship with people around me, and things I still want to accomplish in the years ahead of me. During these times, I have resolved to retire from doing several things which I consider juvenile and unsavory to the tastes of persons within my soon-to-be age bracket. Nevertheless, despite the deep self-reflection, one particular pernicious habit of mine kept cropping up, to my dismay [yeah right]. This notwithstanding, I realized that some of the best memories I had with my closest friends happened during these times.

I would have left it at that, and would have closed that chapter of my life forever, if it weren't for my good friend Doc Dasma, who broached the idea that we should all get together and relive those days one last time. I was pleasantly surprised, to say the least, considering that it is outside Doc Dasma's character to actually bring up the topic and actually make an [implied] invitation. Also, I have been wanting to hang out with my friends for some time now. You see, now that we've all been working, it's been difficult to find time to get together and hang out. So to make the long story short, I found no difficulty in agreeing with Doc Dasma's suggestion.

Barring a couple of logistical setbacks [such as the loss of point persons], we pushed through as planned. Allow me to state some observations at this point. Firstly, I wouldn't consider the event we had as one of the best in terms of attendance [I would have wanted to see the rest of the Magnificent 7], although it made me bond with some people whom I don't get to see or bond with that often, which was a huge plus considering the circumstances. Secondly, the booze wasn't that strong either. It gave us the right/steady buzz, without giving us any hangover the following day. Doc Dasma says further that it doesn't matter whether or not the buzz was great. What is essential is the company we were with during that get-together. On this point, I agree with Doc Dasma in principle, but I have a few reservations, which should comprise another blog entry altogether.

In the course of our little get-together, however, I discovered that aging makes one realize the value of the friends that one has. As one gets older, one usually longs for the friends and the memories that they once shared doing stuff together, stuff which may seem junevile at present, but would have made and established deep roots and lifelong bonds among friends. Having learned this now, I now know that I should never have underestimated any form of common bonding interests or activities among friends--whether it be good, bad, healthy or unhealthy. In the course of time, people tend to outgrow the bad and unhealthy habits, but the memories of the fun and pleasure derived from those moments will linger on indefinitely.

Although interests tend to change as one gets older [i.e., priorities such as family, career and self take precedence in time over bonding with friends], it is simply reassuring to know that friends who have once upon a time shared, spent time and enjoyed the same things with you, will always be there, even when they seem distant, or if their interests seem out of sync with oneself. So while the swan song I was dreaming about never really was the final magnificent effort that I had hoped it to be, I know that I shouldn't have been hoping for a swan song of sorts in the first place. After all, no one's going anywhere.

The Most Hated Pinay [after Juday]...Ever!

For those who haven't been up to date, there was this recent article in People Asia written by Malu Fernandez, which catapulted her to instant infamy. Just check out the following sites to view the articles:

http://www.tingog.com/wp-content/uploads/2007/08/people-asia-p30.jpg

http://www.tingog.com/wp-content/uploads/2007/08/people-asia-p31.jpg

http://www.manilastandardtoday.com/?page=goodLife1_july30_2007

Obviously, the uproar was caused by certain negative statements, among others, made by Malu [pardon my seeming familiarity] against OFWs. Fine. The statements were made in bad taste...or to put it in no unclear terms, the statements were downright boorish and offensive. And it doesn't help at all that OFWs are generally regarded as modern-day heroes, etc, etc, and so forth. So yes, Malu should be crucified for her impertinence and insensitivity. But I should add that all those who violently reacted and cursed Malu for her words should also be crucified beside her--for indulging the petty fancies of a spoiled, fat, and not to mention, noveau riche bitch. If you'll read Malu's articles carefully, I'm sure you'd notice the incessant complaining of Malu about almost everything--from having to ride coach, to having to wear her Adidas trainers in Boracay. How more KSP can a person get, di ba? Rather than leaving her to grovel all day long, the fact that these "feeling" do-gooders reacted, in the manner that they did, only helped to exacerbate the situation and catapult Ms. KSP to instant print media stardom. Thanks a lot, idiots.

If I may also hasten to add, some of Malu's points were true anyway. Filipino passengers [not just OFWs] can be irritating [and I mean the irritation that's caused by a low buzzing sound that's too minute to notice at first, but can get irritating after hours of continuous exposure to it], especially if you are seated beside them in a 14-hour long flight. In fact, in one of my previous posts, I related how irritating it could get when taking a short flight from Hong Kong full of "eager-to-get-home-so-they-can-show-off-how-rich-they-are" Filipinos/OFWs, so I can relate, albeit to a lesser degree, to the feeling of Malu during her long-haul flight. She might just as well have drank [or strangled] herself [or her seatmate, for that matter] to death, rather than hear the stories of a fellow passenger [who also happened to be a Filipino OFW], and who most likely felt that Malu and himself/herself were the best of friends or at the very least, telebabad partners. Being seatmates doesn't give anybody the license to start a conversation with his/her seatmate, especially if the seatmate is not at all interested in hearing stories on how big you've made it abroad, and how happy you are to be going home for the first time in years. Keep your stories to yourself. Trust me, no one is interested, save for your wife [or husband] and kid back home who are probably more interested in your pasalubongs, than your stories of success.

One last point. I have absolutely no patience for people who pontificate. The Christian in me is reminded of Jesus' challenge for those without sin to cast the first stone. I am positively certain that these feeling do-gooders who criticized Malu have, at least once in their lives, criticized, complained or maligned fellow Filipinos or complained about the little things in their lives. Who, after all, doesn't complain about how small and uncomfortable the seats in coach are, how inefficient the service of a restaurant is, how smelly a closed and pressurized cabin can get from the mixed scent of reeking Filipino OFW sweat? So it irks me to no end that these people have the nerve to treat Malu as the pinay "devil wears Pitoy Moreno," when all of them are also guilty of her crime. At least Malu had the "balls" to say what she thought, although the intent to slander is another question altogether. For the few who sincerely haven't complained or maligned in the manner that Malu has done, I say kudos, although it's pretty obvious that you haven't ridden a plane, eaten in a fancy resto, or enjoyed any of the finer things in life.

A New Hope

It's been a couple of months since I posted my last blog. Truth to tell, I've been kinda "busy" with my new job, as well as adjusting to the less stressful lifestyle government service has to offer. In other words, yes, I have no excuse for having been remiss in my blogging. I suppose that when one has all the time in the world, one tends to forget to stop, pause, think, and blog.

What's been happening to me lately? Actually, a lot. Aside from the fact that I'm the bossing in my new office (I head a bunch of rag-tag geriatrics who do what I tell them to), I've been busy helping fix up some loose ends in my family's legal affairs. Being the only (and first) lawyer in my family has its benefits and pitfalls. For one thing, your family thinks that you're a hot-shot lawyer who knows how to solve all the family's legal problems. On the other, because you're family, i.e., one of them, your services are pro bono. I don't mind at all, though. After all, I don't even claim to be an expert in a lot of things the family asks me to do, so I might as well render my services for free. After all, in case of any bulilyaso, I can always dribble myself away from all the blame. Good legal services ain't cheap nowadays anyway.

I've also been catching up with some friends, too, as well as spending time with friends who will be tying the knot pretty soon. Getting married is an entirely different ballgame altogether, something which I think I shall be eluding in the next couple of years. When people get married, people tend to be more focused on family life. Gone are the days of over-the-top gimmicks with friends, and good friends should take the initiative and set the limits for their friends who are on the way to getting married. Let's put it this way, in my entire ADMU barkada, only 2 of us will be left single this year. Don't get me wrong, though. I'm not a bit pressured to follow suit. Well, not yet.

Talking about getting married, I recently met this person. She's a cool lawyer. Fancy talker and fancy dresser. Super fun to hang around with, too. However, there's a "hitch". She's still "technically" married, and she's got 2 kids. A lot of people I know have problems with people hooking-up (for the long term) with people with kids. I'd always get the same crap that people with kids are good only for one-night stands. In fact, I've got a couple of dressing-downs already from some friends on this matter, too. [YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE!] I don't think it's a problem, though. C'mon guys. It's the new millenium. A lot of weirder things have happened to people, right? Besides, it's like hitting 2 birds with 1 stone. You get a wifey and kids, to boot. I once broached the idea to my parents, and they said that if I ever did that, I'd be disinherited to the fullest extent legally allowed. Hmmm...I guess it's time for me to rethink this matter. :)

In the few months that have passed since my last post, a lot of interesting things have happened to my friends. And of course, I'll be lying if I'd say that I'm not the least bit affected by what's been happening to them. Let's just say that in the coming year, as well as next year, I'll be a proud tito to several individuals. Hehe. :)

I've also been getting hooked on Multiply. Another reason why I've stopped blogging. I tried putting some stuff there, but, as my good friend, Doc Dasma, helped me realize, it's gonna be harder for me to post some "confidential" stuff on Multiply since it's open to the public. He's got a point. Hence, this blog. I think that for those pieces of my mind that I wanna share with the public, I'll do it on Multiply, with a copy posted here, too. While for those pieces of my mind hatched while doing the finger pyramid of contemplating evil (can you picture me doing this? hehe), I'll post them here only. Fair enough? I thought so.

Well, lunchbreak's almost over. I best be going. One of the bad things about government jobs is the strict implementation of the 1-hour lunch break. Oh, well, at least I get to go home at 4:30pm.

Later! By the way, thanks to my kid sister and Doc Dasma for encouraging me to get back to blogging here. I think you'd better know that by doing that, you are actually forcing me to put on my "evil" thinking cap. :)

Out of the Village

I've already finalized and signed my letter of resignation from the Firm, but I haven't handed it yet to my Department Head. I feel uneasy, to say the least, for having to make this decision to leave. After all, this is my first job, and I have begun to take a liking to the long hours, stressful situations and different [this is an understatement] personalities in the Firm. The Firm has been good to me, although at times, it feels as though the Firm "elders" inculcate this notion among their associates that there are no good opportunities beyond that of the Firm's. If you've watched M. Night Shyamalan's The Village [and this is how a Firm batchmate of mine described it], and worked for a Firm, you'll probably know what I'm talking about. Given this, as we associates grow older in the Firm, the foregoing notion takes hold of us ever so tightly that we find no more reason to leave.

But, as one senior associate of mine [someone I really hold in high regard] advised--although there may be a million reasons to stay in the Firm, it's always difficult to find an argument to counter a better offer. An offer that may shatter the belief that there is nothing beyond the comfort of the village we call the Firm.

Better offer, indeed. And I don't mean only in terms of the kind of dough I'll be receiving. In fact, I won't be receiving much in my new government job [we're talking basic salary only]. A friend of mine always said that taking a job in government always involves a pay cut. Right. But I think the reduction in salary is easily outweighed by the experience and connections that I will be getting from the job. I have a strong feeling [a feeling shared by many of my friends, at least those in the know] that I will be in my element. More importantly, my new job will definitely help in honing my negotiation [read: influence peddling] skills. As an orgmate of mine told me, a lot of people would kill for my job offer.

So why haven't I submitted my resignation letter yet? Maybe because of the fear that I may not be making the right career move. After all, I will be up for promotion next year to senior associate. But then again, as another colleague [who also recently resigned from the Firm] said, one will never know if he or she has made the right choice until after the fact. And so, I guess, the choice of whether to jump or not is left to me. In this case, I'm jumping. It's a far better choice than not feeling the rush of the jump. Who knows, maybe in the process of jumping, I may find out that I could actually fly.

Things I Particularly Hate When Travelling With Filipinos [Especially on PAL]

I recently went on a trip to Hong Kong with some of my best org batchmates, mainly to bond, shop and to meet with some of our orgmates based there. It would be an understatement to say that we had an absolutely stupenduous time together. There was never a dull moment, although some of us began getting cranky mainly because our shopping activities were cut-short by unexpected delays in schedule. But, as they say, all's when that ends well.

I took the PAL flight home, while my org batchmates took another local airline [Cebu Pacific]. I was supposed to leave at 9pm, and the rest, 10pm, but due to some delay, I ended up leaving later than they did. But I didn't mind. After all, I was busy catching up with some work and experimenting with some of the gadgets I bought. But I digress on the blog-at-hand.

While on the issue of taking PAL flights, I am taking this opportunity to vent on how irked I am at the following not so funny antics of some of my co-passenger kababayans:

1. They immediately line up even when their row numbers haven't been called to board yet. Maybe they're afraid that someone else might take their seat [duh?!] or someone might use the valuable overhead luggage compartment where they could put all their oversized carry-ons laden with valuable pasalubong such as cans of carne norte, spam, kilos of assorted panties, socks, briefs, trinkets and god knows what else.

2. They wear clothing suited for fall or winter, even when they arrive in Manila during summer. Some are overly-dressed, as if they are scheduled to go straight to a party immediately after arriving from the airport. What's weird is, even if they get fetched in a car with no aircon, they still don't take their jackets off. Hello?!

3. They immediately stand-up to get their carry-ons while the plane is still taxi-ing to the gate. As if someone else would be interested in taking home their valuable carne norte or spam or what not. They can stuff themselves silly with it for all I care. And they can bump their heads too if the plane suddenly jerks to a stop. Morons. Besides, even if they are the first out of the plane, their luggages wouldn't probably be out until after the luggages of the first and business class passengers have made their rounds on the conveyor belt. So there's really no friggin' point in hurrying up. It's one thing to be excited in coming home, but it's a totally different thing to be OA!!

4. THEY CLAP THEIR HANDS WHEN THE PLANE LANDS IN MANILA!!! If, following the mannerisms of genteel society [which I don't claim to be a part of by writing this blog], applauding loudly implies an encore or a repeat, then these kababayans of mine might as well take the next flight out of Manila, so they could do all the clapping anew when they come back home. Better yet, they can all leave and do their clapping elsewhere.

I love the Philippines and I love being a Filipino. But sometimes I hate how dim-witted some Filipinos have become.

Ravaged

I had a terrific migraine yesterday, which prevented me from doing some work that I brought home from the office and enjoying the steak and sea bass dinner I had in Old Manila [at the Pen]. Lately, I've been getting these painful migraines [the types that leave a person ravaged in the migraine's aftermath] in alarming frequency. I've also begun to wonder if the migraines that I've been getting were somehow related to the stress I get from the line of work I'm in.

So upon the suggestion of my mum, I scheduled myself for an executive check-up next week, the first I will ever have in my whole life, just to see how healthy I am. Meanwhile, I also asked some of my doctor friends on what they think about what's been happening to me. I asked in particular Dr. Dasma if there was a doctor who specializes in stress, and he answered [albeit in a very condescending tone, i should say] that I should instead see a shrink.

WTF?! I know I've been wanting to see a shrink for some time now [just to see what the hype is all about, and for the prescription drugs...hehehe], but I didn't think for one second that I should see a shrink for my migraines. Dr. Dasma says that seeing a shrink might help me de-stress as the shrink may be able to make suggestions on how to channel my "energy", whatever that means. In any event, Dr. Dasma says that thinking about [and being thankful for] one's blessings is always a good solution to stress, which may, in effect, lead to a reduction of my migraine attacks.

Of course I appreciate Dr. Dasma's zen-advice. But I still couldn't see how seeing a shrink could help me de-stress or help me with my migraines at all. But then again, that's probably because I graduated from law school, and Dr. Dasma graduated from medical school. So I guess I'll have to take Dr. Dasma's advice hook, line and sinker.

Anyone know the way to the looney doctor's?

"Pikon na ME!!"

Someone sent me an SMS with the following message: "Asan na U? Hungry na me..."

I was slightly, nay, immensely irked by the message. And I wasn't surprised at all by my reaction. Indeed, years of Jesuit grammatical tutelage, capped by the training in law school to use precise and proper syntax, don't count for nothing. I won't be a hypocrite, though. I don't mind using Taglish [defined in Wikipedia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taglish) as a portmanteau of the words "Tagalog" and "English,", i.e., a mixed language in the Philippines, that is infused with English terms; Taglish is perhaps most common in Metro Manila, where its use has become stereotype. Its influence has nevertheless become great, as it is now arguably a lingua franca in many parts of the country]. Neither do I mind using Englog [again, defined in Wikipedia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Englog) as English infused with Filipino words, a popular type being called Coño English or Konyo English]. In fact, I think that in the future, Taglish and Englog will develop as full-fledged languages, or, at the very least, class-based dialects in themselves [much like the type of English spoken by England's Establishment, and that spoken by the Commoners]. What I do mind, however, is how some feeling types bastardize Taglish or Englog by inventing and infusing new ways of constructing Taglish or Englog sentences and/or phrases! It is totally ridiculous!

Take the SMS that I received, for example. Never in my entire life have I ever heard anyone say "Nasaan na U?" or "Hungry na ME." It is always said, "Where are you?" or "Nasaan ka na?", and "I'm hungry" or "Gutom na ako." Period. No Ifs or Buts. Indeed, some words and phrases are more appropriately stated in pure English or Tagalog, and as such, cannot just be bastardized by any Tom, Dick or Harry [or in our case, Pepe or Pilar], trying to make their mark in Taglish-dom or Englog-dom. Inventing or infusing new ways of constructing Taglish or Englog words, phrases and/or sentences, must still take into consideration proper grammar, syntax, and, to a certain extent, aesthetic appeal--attributes which, I venture to state, are marks of a great language.

Some people also say that the corruption of Taglish and Englog arose from the introduction of SMS messaging into the Filipino psyche. It arose from the need of abbreviating and writing shorter text messages. Baloney. I cannot, for the life of me, understand how adding 1 letter [as in the case of "me" for "ako"] can possibly make a difference in the SMS message to be sent. Again, it appears that some good-for-nothing Filipino moron/Juan Tamad is trying to make his or her mark by devising [to his or her mind, at least] an innovative way of colloquial-speak. This sorry excuse for an innovation, however, is made at a great price--the sacrifice of, as stated above, proper grammar, syntax and aesthetic appeal.

These knights of wrong grammar should be nailed to the cross. To the lot of them I say [excuse my French]--"Tang-ina U! Pikon na Me!!" :)

Full of Shit [Crapper Blues]

I am in LBM hell today, and I'm trying to recount what I ate the past few days. For those who frequent my blog, you probably read the post I made in connection with the dinner I had with my friends at Dampa last Thursday night. I know I pigged-out with my friends, and as I was having my first bout with LBM this morning, I was cursing to no end the friggin' oyster kinilaw that we ate. After all, I know that oysters and my tummy don't get along too well, but that's only if I eat the oysters raw and with an empty stomach.

So I just had to phone my two buddies [who I had dinner with in Dampa] to ask if their stomachs got upset after our dinner, and they answered in the negative. My doctor buddy [who is, hands down, the "saint" in my org barkada--Dr. Dasma (not his real name): Are you reading this? Hehe] opined that if I got my LBM only this morning, then it definitely wasn't the food we ate at Dampa. But the only things I ate after Dampa was bopis and mongo for lunch at the office the following day, and a late dinner of Jolly Champ, Fries and Coke. And I know that I didn't drink water from a polluted source. So what the fuck's happening to me?!

This is such a hassle! It's a good thing that I like drinking Oral Rehydration Salts--it's actually very good [Dr. Dasma, however, doesn't share the same sentiments]; otherwise, I might just have crapped myself to dehydration death.

A lot of people say that the bathroom is the best room in the house--a private space where they find solace and are free to do as they please, no holds barred. If paying a visit to the bathroom every 3 hours [I've been to the bathroom 7 times since this morning] is what it means to "find solace", then I am, no pun intended, in deep shit.

The [Mis]Adventures of Suping, Supermaid [Episode 1]

Suping [not her real name], our house helper, is a class act. She single-handedly managed to turn our quiet lives into a nightmare. No, she is no Mary Poppins--she's got no "magic" and got no brains. Neither is she a Maria Von Trapp--she has absolutely no trait that would endear her to us. She is the anti-thesis of Mary Poppins and Maria Von Trapp. She is, hands down, the maid from hell. In fact, if the word "Duh!" had a face, its face would be Suping.

I hate the way she talks, whether in person or through the phone/intercom. I hate the way she dresses, and I hate everything that she does. It takes an inordinately long time for her to respond to our requests, and it takes an even longer time for her to process our instructions. Everything she does is wrong. Everything about her is wrong.

Take this anecdote, for example. One time, our family dined on Angus Beef Steak which our mom bought from Santi's. One piece of steak was left uncooked for my brother who wasn't able to join us for dinner. The day after, my dad instructed Suping not to buy food at the market for the lunch of the household staff, but rather, to just finish the food in the freezer. Of course, my dad was referring to all the other food in the freezer EXCEPT the steak [which had previously been reserved for my brother]. Nevertheless, Suping, being the genius that she was, cooked the steak for herself--to the dismay of my brother, who was looking forward to a sumptuous piece of steak for his lunch. He was dumbfounded, and probably a little distressed, too [You know the feeling you get when you anticipate something but in the end don't get it? My brother probably got that]. In the end, my brother had to content himself with fried tuyo and eggs, while Suping dined on the most succulent Angus Beef Steak she had probably ever tasted in her whole life.

Don't get me wrong, we love eating fried tuyo and eggs. In fact, we eat it a lot in our house. We share our food with the household staff, too. What we don't like, however, is when people eat the food already reserved for us. Jesus Christ. What the hell was Suping thinking?! Good thing I wasn't at home. Otherwise, I'd probably have her eat everything in the fridge--raw.

Mall of Asia

I had dinner with my family at the Mall of Asia, and I swear to God, I will never ever go back to that place again. Not only is it located at the ends of the Earth, but also, I had a feeling the entire population of Metro Manila was there. I've never seen so many people [since Edsa II, or Edsa III, depending on the type of person you are] converging at one leviathan of a mall. My family didn't even attempt to go around the mall anymore. We already already tired just looking at how huge it was, and how daunting the task was of attempting to go around.

Malling shouldn't be stressful. In fact, people go to the mall to relax. I shudder to think how people will ever relax in the Mall of Asia. After all, people will, at the back of their heads, always try to cover as much ground as possible, with the goal of conquering the Mall of Asia in a day. Forget it.

On the way home, as we we crossed Roxas Boulevard from the Mall of Asia, I looked back, just to check, if God had answered my prayers that the Mall of Asia be swallowed by the South China Sea.

Birthday Blues II

I just remembered that during my party, one of my orgmates asked me to drink a bottle of beer straight up [or was it just a toast?--i can't recall anymore as I was totally hammered] and told me that I was a considerably "well-loved" orgmate [he spoke in the vernacular so I'm translating as best I can]. Coming from one of my invitees that night, I'd say that his statement was pretty much the usual complement a guest would give his host, especially during the latter's birthday. I'd do the same, in fact. To my mind, being solicitous is the least you could do for a host who is celebrating his birthday. And so, a host shouldn't give much thought to any complement he/she receives considering that, at the end of the day, most of them could actually be only half-meant.

However, coming from that particular orgmate, I think I should give his words some more thought. After all, my impression of him is that of a person who basks in his naivete, harboring no ill-feelings against anyone, and keeping no vested interests. Mr. Nice Guy personified. I guess my point is that he may actually have meant what he said to me.

So I am grateful that people look up to me. But do I deserve it? Maybe, maybe not. For those whose company and friendship I cherish, I'd like to think that I'm a great friend, and that they would probably agree with the observation of my orgmate. After all, despite the fact that I can be bratty and obnoxious, they still take me for who I am. What puzzles me, however, is the that fact the "others" seem to share the sentiments of those within my circle.

People are weird. You show them a small measure of kindness [whether intended or not] and they think that you're a friggin' saint. I don't blame them. After all, it is but natural to assume and look for the innate goodness in others. Verily, only those who have been exposed to the seedy side of men will be wary--a fact which was betrayed when I answered my orgmate [again, in the vernacular]: "I may be well-loved, but will it do well for me to 'love' others in the same way?" Following that was the clink of our bottles before I said to him [with a smirk], "Cheers."

Looking back, I should have just drank straight up. That was admittedly a stupid thing to say, but as I will say time and again, I am no saint. And I hate it when people expect me to be one just on the basis of a couple of good deeds I may have unintentionally done. I hate to disappoint, and by complementing me, people actually just make it harder for me to be, me. Oh well. :)

Birthday Blues

I had a party a couple of days ago at this swanky bar to celebrate my birthday. Nothing fancy [although the P70,000.00++ bill I had to foot would definitely indicate otherwise]. Just a couple [who the hell am I kidding?!] of drinks with some of my close friends, as well as some "quota" invitees [friends of friends, etc.]. At least this year, my brother [the one who gets to do what he really loves doing] got to go, as well as lady junkie and my super partner-in-crime/travel buddy. What's more, for the first time in months, me and my buddies were all complete, as well as my other super favorite org batchmates/juniors. If only for this, I'd say that my party was a towering success, to say the least. Besides, most of my guests were drunk [on their own accord and without anyone forcing them to drink], hammered, woozy, steady, etc. And most importantly, everyone had fun [or so I'd like to think so]. In fact, the fact that some of my friends [including myself] woke up the next morning in the ninth circle of hangover hell only proves that everyone had fun. :)

On this point, it's a good thing that I shelved the idea of just having my birthday dinner party at People's Palace. That would have been just too "conservative" for my taste. It's not that I don't like having dinner parties. I'm sure that I'm definitely gonna have one soon. But not just yet. Not this year. Not at the penultimate year before my third decade of existence. [Fuck! I'm really a fucking dinosaur!]

I really love parties. Not so much attending them [except of course the parties of my super close friends], but HOSTING them! There's no feeling like getting all the people you like hanging out with under one roof and just being yourself. People say that the cardinal rule which all brithday celebrators should abide by is not to get drunk at his/her own party. Rubbish! Of course you can get drunk at your own party! In fact, you can do [and be] anything at your own party! The important thing is just to keep it real. Aye, there's the rub. This is why I love hosting parties. During my parties, I am myself. And I am myself, because I am with the people who make me, me. And to tell you honestly, I don't think that I'm a People's Palace kind of guy. At least not yet. Not this year. :)

Migraine Boy

I hate migraines. And I hate it more if I don't have my Excedrin Migraine ("E") with me. Like now. I always keep several bottles of E everywhere. I have a couple of bottles at home, a bottle in the office, and a bottle in my briefcase, just in case I suffer a migraine attack outside the house or the office. But I totally forgot to bring a bottle with me today since I used a different bag, and I'm working outside the office. I'm not having one of those debilitating migraine attacks. In fact, I'm just having the annoying dull-pain type of migraine. Although it isn't that bad, it's really bothersome, and it distracts me from the work-at-hand. Stupid migraine! Stupid me!

Planet of the Apes

My gun-wielding driver looks like an ape. And I hate it. What's worse is, he has the brain of an ape, too. That's why it's an agony everyday going to and from work, or on weekend nights, when I go out--for the simple fact that I have to put up with his being, "slow".

I particularly hate it whenever I navigate and tell him where to go, and he always repeats what I say, albeit in the interrogative. The fuck. It's either my voice is too soft [which I highly doubt], he is fucking hearing impaired [which I doubt, too], or his tiny brain can't process my instructions as quickly as that of an ordinary human being. It's simply irritating.

He also suffers from a terrible amnesia of sorts for both the long and short-term memory. He forgets the directions to places where I usually go to [in some cases, even if I went there the day before]! Notwithstanding the fact that I've been to X's house a million times, Y-bar a thousand or Z-mall a dozen, ape-man wouldn't even have the slightest recollection of how to get there, which is absolutely stupefying!

I miss my other driver. At least he follows orders. I once asked him never ever to cough in the car coz it distracts me when I'm deep in thought [or awakens me when I'm asleep]. And he never did, even if he really badly needed to cough that his face turned red. And he knew the directions of the places I wanted to go to.

Good help is indeed hard to come by nowadays. I guess we simply have to be content with the quality of help we have.

I Have No Time For Your Sad Stories

If we are not friends, please do not attempt to tell [or burden] me with your sad stories. It is totally irksome, and I simply have no time to listen to whatever misfortune life has brought upon you. I have reserved my listening ear, my bleeding heart, as well as my helping hands to my family and circle of friends only. If you think you are in my circle, you are most likely mistaken. Because those within my circle know that they're in, for the simple reason that I make them feel it and convey to them my sentiments in no uncertain terms.

I guess I am to blame to some extent, too. People often tell me that I come across as approachable and friendly...or to some extent, I appear to be a person who will take time out to listen to one's problems or be the proverbial shoulder to cry on. For this, I am deeply sorry for any inconvenience that your misconception has caused you. I didn't mean to come across that way. Please don't think that I'm a heartless bastard, though. I'd like to believe that I have a big heart. And I go the extra mile for my family and friends. But I am only human, and my resources are finite. So I can't go helping around every tom, dick and harry who needs a shoulder to cry on or a helping hand. Find your own friends.I'm sure they'll be more than willing to listen to your sad stories. Anyway, whether or not you find a friend to victimize, I wish you well and hope that your problems ain't too bad.

I know. I know.

I know what you're saying. I'm eating my words, yet again.

Who would have ever thought that I would end up doing what I swore I would never do---create my own blog. But then again, come to think of it, I have done many things which I thought I would never venture doing. [Take my friendster account, for example. I previously made a very public declaration to my law school classmates (yes, I'm a friggin' lawyer) that I would never ever join the bandwagon and create my very own friendster account. In fact, I still maintain that I was unduly forced by my fellow associates in the law firm where I work to create my account early in 2004. But now, I regularly check the account and spy on other people who have accounts. It's completely ridiculous.]

Anyway, I kinda thought that blogs were avenues where women with guy [or girl] problems could rant all they want under the cover of anonimity. There is, after all, a glut of blogspots featuring women who talk mostly about their crushes, as well as other similar cheesy things. Hence, my initial conclusions had, at the very least, some foundation. Nevertheless, I have stumbled across several blogs, particularly friendster blogs that are both interesting and insightful to read. I love reading those blogs, although never to a point where I'm inspired to create my own. It's so much fun reading about what other people think, how other people are, and forming pre-conceived notions about them, without opening yourself up to judgment. There's a sense of power in that, I think. But that's another blog topic altogether.

What made me decide to have my very own blog, however, is a recent book that I read. It was written in the form of a blog interspersed with several email exchanges. A good read, I must say. In the book, the fictional blog-writer uses his blog to diss the people around him. That may have gotten him into a lot of trouble, but in the end, he ends up getting what he wants [or so he makes us think]. Pretty simple story, if you ask me. Too simple, in fact. But that's how I want my story to be...to be able to be the guy with horns and a pitchfork, and yet to get everything I want. Brilliant.