So Much for Doomsday

So, the world didn’t end yesterday. Or it did? I survived the 2012 phenomenon—we survived the apocalypse—did we really survive the end of days? Did we survive or did we not? Did we not survive since there was no end of times to survive from in the first place? 

The intricate design would look good on a biscuit. 

Who can say the world ended yesterday? Who can say it didn’t? What proof do we have of the world’s demise or non-demise? 

Did the world end or not? I don’t know. For all we know, we could either be a new set of humans with the memories of our old selves—the ones who died during the apocalypse—living in a new Earth—an Earth created very similar to our old one. Or we could be our old selves, saved from the brink, and kept in an exact imitation of our old Earth and universe. Or we could be our old selves, saved from the brink, and kept in a very realistic simulation of our old Earth and universe. 

Did the world end or not?  Who knows? Perhaps the world did end and our memories of the tremors, of the rain of fire, of the giant waves, of the asteroids and of our deaths have been wiped out clean. 

Did the world end or not? It’s up to me and you. We could have survived the end of the world or narrowly missed one. You could have survived your apocalypses, I could have survived—counting Y2K, last year’s apocalypse and the other predicted apocalypses not as popular as yesterday's—my nth and perhaps my last doomsday. 

Did the world really end or not? Did the Mayas wrongfully predict the end of days? Was the world supposed to end on 12 December 2012 or not? How was the world supposed to end?

The Tenth Doctor (David Tennant) and the Tardis

Did the world really end yesterday? Maybe it did or maybe it didn’t. Maybe we were saved—maybe the Doctor came via TARDIS and saved us. LOL

What a Beautiful Head!

I haven’t been in the writing mood lately. Well, I really am not a prolific writer. I only write when inspiration strikes—good thing I’m not an employed/paid writer ‘cause I would really suck at it—I won’t be able to meet my deadlines. I been trying hard to force my self to write—face the computer, write and delete, revise what I’ve written so far, and wait for the inspiration to come. I’m a disturbed guy. A lot of things have been going in my head. I sit for hours in front of the computer but it seems that the Muses are not around to guide these days—or, they’re around but I am so preoccupied that they’re unable to influence me.

Why the preoccupation? For those who don’t know me personally, I am someone who is always thinking. I am always disturbed and I am always distracted. One may see me having fun, enjoying stuff, and sharing a laugh but inside I am thinking. There are instances that I disconnect my self. I get sucked up by my mental black hole every now and then. I sometimes would tell my friends, jokingly, that I am solving an equation in my head.

                                                                                                            

What’s going on in my head? I am thinking about the future—sometimes—rarely, I don’t really plan and anticipate the future. I am also thinking about politics and the country, personal stuff, Q’s & A’s, and silly and unimportant things.

What about the future? What about politics? What are these questions? What are these personal stuff and what are these silly and unimportant things?

Though I choose to live and enjoy the days as they come, I won’t deny that I get anxious about the future. What does Numerology say? What does the future hold for me? Christmas is fast approaching, should I expect presents? The year is ending, would 2012 be a good year? Is 2012 the end of times? If the world does not end next year, I am turning a year older in January, should I expect more presents?

The mid-season finales of my favorite shows have left me guessing.  What would happen in the next episodes of Merlin, Nikita, and Supernatural? Is Bobby Singer dead for good? Could The Big Bang Theory,  2 Broke Girls, and Threesome get any funnier? What will happen in the third season finale of HBO's Hung? What should I expect in the what if? episode of Grey’s Anatomy? How would things end in the final season of Desperate Housewives? How are they going to portray the Third Servile War in Spartacus: Blood and Sand’s second season and sequel, Spartacus: Vengeance?

The past days has also got me concerned about the country. Would the Philippines get any better or would it worsen? Would President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo—I’m a big fan, I prefer to call her president— be able to get treatment outside the country? Would they be able to prove her guilt? I doubt it. Would the country’s economy get any stronger? Should I exile my self from the country and return when PNoy’s term has ended?

Should I start looking for a regular day job, just in case things turn out more unfavorable? Do I have to find a regular day job even though, I think, I can substantially earn doing freelance home-based jobs and part-time jobs? Are part-time jobs and freelance jobs enough for me?  Would I be able to find my dream job?

Another thing, the Italian language has been bugging me. It seems to me that I haven’t learned anything. Hey, I’ve learned a lot but I need more practice—I need to talk to Italians so that I don’t forget the words. Would I be able to use those words? Have I acquired an extensive vocabulary? Is my grammar good or bad? Would I be able to claim that parlo bene italiano or, better yet, parlo molto bene italiano? Would I be able to master the language? Would I learn another language after Italian? 

Il mio dizionario e libro di testo.

Thinking of a good topic to write has also been very taxing. What should I write about? What would be my next post? Will I be able to write a post very soon? I have a lot of ideas, good ideas to write, don't know which to write first. 

Lastly, I’m thinking greatly about my mother and my siblings. What’s going inside their minds? What is my mother thinking about, after she found out about my ef**** father’s indiscretion? Should I pretend not to care and let them (my parents) figure things out or let them kill each other? Should I step up, being the eldest, and confront my father? Should my brothers and I gang up on him? Should we kick our father out? Honestly, I, as a kid, wished that I'd find out that I have a half-brother that I can bully and befriend later or later than later—I watch a lot of TV—it's a different story. 

                                                         

Now that I’ve mentioned my father it seems that I’ve lost the drive to write. I’ve been waiting for inspiration to strike—reading one blog post to Jasmin’s post to another post—and now that I found the impetus to write, I had to lose it to my cheating father.

                                                         

Writing this one has made me realize a few things. I realized that I may need to get multiple jobs just in case I kick my father out. That PNoy would only disappoint me. I shouldn’t be too hard on my self—I shouldn’t think a lot. I don’t know if it is healthy to think a lot or think less or if there are other people who think as much as I think. That I could be mentally ill—or not, though I’ve described my self as such in the past. That I should seek therapy—for the heck of it—I find writing and computer games therapeutic.

What Do You Want to Be When You Grow Up? (When I Grow Up I Want to Be...)

I was talking to my younger cousins earlier about what they want to be when they grow up. One wanted to be a pilot. The other wanted to be doctor. The other one didn’t know what he wants to be when he grows up. 

‘When I grow up I want to be…,’ an immortal line usually heard during the start of a school year.  A line, always present—never skipping a year—never failing to come out during grade school class introductions. It is also present in the formal theme compositions in the latter years of grade school, in the intermediate years and in high school. 

To many, the missing words after ‘When I grow up I want to be…’ do not or did not change.  Those people—the students, who recited them in front of the class, were very consistent. They know what they really want to do when they grow up.

I, as a kid, like any other kid, had lots of dreams. I wanted to do this, I wanted to do that. I wanted to do everything. I was indecisive. I’ve delivered the line several times but I wasn’t even truthful. I was expected to say something, I said something—anything—for the sake of the activity.

Though I was indecisive, I have been consistent. First grade: ‘When I grow up I want to be a Civil Engineer,’ Second grade: ‘When I grow up I want to be a Civil Engineer,’ Grade 3 and so on until 7th grade or beyond.

What were my dreams as a kid? Did I want to be what I am now?

‘When I grow up I want to be…’—speaking as my younger mischievous, attention-deficit, smart-mouthed self, I would have said it this way and that way:

When I grow I want to be a Civil Engineer.

When I grow up I want to be a Civil Engineer – a line I used to write in my grade school composition about my self.  Several times, in fact, but I never really dreamed of becoming a Civil Engineer.   I just couldn’t think of anything to write with no objections from my classmates or my teacher.  This line was greatly influenced by my ef**** father.  

When I grow I want to be an Astronaut.  

I wanted to go to space. I guess every child in the '90s wanted to be an astronaut. I wanted to be like Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin. I wanted to pilot a rocket ship or a space shuttle. I wanted to visit the other planets, the sun and the stars—which I thought, when I was younger, would be possible today. I soon later found out that I’d burn if I get too close to the sun and stars and not all planets has a mass of land that I can step on to.

When I grow I want to be a Scientist

As a kid, I dreamed of becoming a scientist.  What’s a scientist?  A scientist is someone who engages in a systematic activity for the acquisition of knowledge. Well, I did not define it that way as a kid. For me, a scientist was someone smart.  You could say that I wanted to be very smart when I grow up. 

When I grow I want to be a Sailor.

I wanted to sail around the world like Magellan or Jim Hawkins or like a pirate. I live in an island, in an archipelago and I’ve always had had an affinity—an attraction to the sea. Too bad I couldn’t swim.

When I grow I want to be an Entomologist.

This was my biggest dream as a kid and is still my biggest dream up until now. I love catching bugs. As kid, I had bottles of bugs preserved in formaldehyde.  I also had a box full of sealed paper with dead butterflies inside.   Back when I was a kid, I really don’t know what to call someone who studies insects.  Entomology would have been my first choice in college. Too bad there are no schools or universities which offer the course here.  

When I grow up I want to be an Inventor.

I wanted to invent something. I wanted to make a radical breakthrough. I wanted to invent something though I didn’t know what it is. I also wanted to invent a time machine—everyone does—everyone wanted to make a time machine.

Going back to the present—no need for a time machine, now that I’ve grown up, sort of, I still act like a kid; I am neither an astronaut nor a civil engineer. I am a scientist because I studied Computer science in the university. I am a scientist—an entomologist—not by degree but by self-proclamation. I raise and study butterflies. A sailor, I could be, though I still don’t know how to tread water. I wonder if a software engineer can be considered an inventor. 

The First Day of School

Today is the first day of school in the public schools and some private schools. It’s the end of the beloved summer break. It is the end of the short-lived intersession. Today is the start of another grueling school year.

The first day of school is the most anticipated—if not the most dreaded day of the year.  For me, the day is mostly horrifying—good thing I’m already over school.

Back when I was a student, I wasn’t the type who anticipated the first day of school. Of course, I look forward to seeing my friends and classmates but there are a number of things I hate about the start of the academic year.

I hate the first day of school because it meant my days are longer and my nights shorter—early to bed, early to rise… Of course, I turn in early—I had to. Staying up late and waking up feeling tired would only make things worse.

Another hated thing, is finding out that my close friends are on a different section. If only I was able to choose my classmates. Well, in my high school alma mater, one could choose his/her classmates—if one enrolls late and by late, I mean, the classes have already started. I had a classmate who enrolled on the first day of class. The school administration gave her the option to pick her own section. She chose to join me and the rest of the unruly gang, even though our class had the school’s most dreaded teacher as an adviser. I don’t know if I would have made the same choice as her.

Finding out that your new adviser is the scary, ill-tempered, someone-who-is-ready-to-bite-you type is another thing—the infamous teacher known for screaming at her students. Me, I was never lucky when it comes to class advisers. I’m fine in having an ill-tempered subject teacher; at least, if I’m lucky, I only get to spend an hour a day with him/her. An adviser who runs a class in her own reign of terror? No way!

Lastly, the thing that I hated most in the start of the school year is the student introductions. The thought of introductions make me want to skip the first day or skip school entirely. If only I was allowed to tell the teacher, ‘Do I have to do this again? I know most of the class and most of them know me. Let the newbies introduce themselves to the class instead.’ I really dislike standing in front of the class to introduce my self—I dislike staying in front in general.

The Taxis of Cebu (The Day I Renewed My NBI Clearance)

Someone's NBI Clearance

I was in Robinson’s Place Cebu earlier to renew my NBI clearance. I arrived at around 12 PM and the NBI office opens at 1 PM. The office of the National Bureau of Investigations is located in the 4th floor of the mall. To decongest the mall from a large number people—off to renew their clearances—the guards made us wait by the main entrance. We were each given a priority number. Me, I was number 68.

While waiting for our numbers to be called, we were all seated in the stairs by the entrance. We looked like we were about to get our class picture taken. We did have our picture taken thanks to an American guy—probably a tourist—he was carrying around a DSLR camera.  He was on his way inside the mall when he took our picture.

At around 1 PM, the first 50 people was let in to the mall. We had to wait another hour to be accommodated. Everyone was not impatient since they came in groups or in pairs. A guy came with her girlfriend. A husband came with his wife and kids. There was a group of boisterous men. Everyone had someone to talk to kill the time except me. I came alone. I did bump into a previous officemate but she came with her girl friends and she was seated 5 people away from me. I was the quiet the whole time.

Sitting on the stairs and facing the street, I noticed the names of the taxis that passed by.

In Cebu, most taxis have acronyms for a name. Some have human names—probably the names of their owners or someone close to the owners. There’s a taxi named Richielda as well as Christoff and Ann & Benjie. Some were named after animals—Duck, Spider and Tiger—another one was named after the king of spiders. One can ride Atlas—I wonder if it was named after the Titan. Twin Hearts is named after a Filipino TV series. Some cabs guarantee you a Softride, a Safeway and a Cool Transport. 

Then crazy idea struck. 'Why don’t I take down the franchise names of the taxis?,' I told my self. I took note of the names mentally. I wanted to write them down but I didn’t want the ones seated beside and behind me to be able to read my list. I also didn’t want to be called crazy by those people. I was able to note quite a number of names.

When I got home after I renewed my clearance, I was able to list these names:

2B	Airland	Ann & Benjie	Artville
Atlas	Caraga	Catz	Christoff
Cool Transport	Crew	CTC	Danny Noy
Duck	EC Friends	Friendly	Gilgal
Good Shepherd	Hadjie	Highland	HMJJ
Holiday	HR	Janox-1	Juscar
K Factor	Kein Cedric	Ken	King Spider
M&J	Mabuhay	Maligaya	MARMIC
MEG	Micaela	MMS	N
PPTC	R&F	RC	RD
SAMC	Regional	Reingold	Revolution
Richielda	Riya	RosaMC	RP
RP Corominas	Safeway	Sansei	Saregen
Scorpion	SD	Shurie	Softride
Spider	Sweet Baby	Thessie	Tiger
Tres Nina	Twin Hearts	Van System	VUDTRASCO
Zarlene	Zirk

It was my First

While lazing around yesterday afternoon, my tongue accidentally hit a bad tooth - a molar. It made a little cracking sound so I tried moving it with my index finger. For some time I was in front of the mirror with my mouth open and my finger plugged inside. In a few minutes, I successfully extracted the tooth with my bare hands. Guess, I don’t need a dentist after all.

Talking about a tooth, I remember, back at work, when I once had a talk with my co-workers about teeth and dentists. The girl and the guy on both sides of my table just got their Maxicare and Affinity cards at that time. I asked the girl if a tooth extraction is covered by the Affinity card. She said yes and we talked until to the part where she said that her mom was afraid of taking her to the dentist and that, unlike her mom, she encourages her kids to see the dentist. I told her that I haven’t been to the dentist and that I’m scared of dentists. I also told her that I haven’t got my teeth extracted by a tooth specialist and that I extract them with my bare hands. I pretty much enjoyed our conversation that day. I was too late to notice that the girl was grossed out of our talk. She asked to shift to another topic. Extracting my teeth with my manos was too brutal for her and that it reminded her of the Saw films.

It never occurred to me that I was very cruel to my self when I extract my teeth. In fact I very much enjoy it. It feels good after I extract them. It’s like an achievement. The tooth I extracted yesterday was another achievement. It was my first time to extract a molar.

Year of Babies

Just lately, I noticed my friends’ Facebook and Friendster profiles have taken on a new look. Their profiles are much cleaner now. Angelic faces have taken the place of naughty profile pics. No more annoying shout outs and status updates—that change very so often. Lines addressing the joys and excitement of parenthood have taken the place of curses and hackneyed quotations. I could surmise that; a baby would really bring a big change to parents and would-be parents.

I don’t know what’s special about this year. Is 2009 a lucky year to have a child? It seems some, if not most, of my friends—married or unmarried—had their children or will be having their children this year. Did they plan on having their children this year? Makes me wonder, if I was absent when they met up to discuss this. Guess I should take time reading my emails and the posts on my Facebook wall.

How about me? When am I going to have my own child? If I try making one today, the child will be born next year, so it won’t be counted in. Well, I even wished I had my first child when I was 12. By the time I learned that it was already possible for me to get someone pregnant, my body was already itching to get in to the baby-making process. LOL! Then again, I wasn’t ready to become a father. There are a lot of things you can’t do when you already have your children.

If I had a baby when I was twelve then he/she would have been twelve by now. I just love the idea of having my own child mistaken as my brother or sister. But I don’t know if I could have been a father to him/her at that time. It would have been unfair of me to have him/her for my amusement.

I have nothing against their choice of year to have babies nor am I angry for not getting an invite to the 2009 Baby-making Campaign. I just don’t get the idea of posting everything about your child—my friends’ Facebook walls are like a blow-by-blow account of their children’s early lives. Yeah I know we are proud of our children. But, if I had my children now, I won’t post photos of them on Facebook—especially embarrassing ones. Parents can brag about or embarrass their child as much as they can or want, but hey, I don’t want my children finding out later—when they’re older—that I posted online their naked baby photos of them.

Now that I’m on my twenties, I don’t know If could already afford raising a child. If given a choice, I prefer to have twins. I want my first born to be twins. Is there a way that I could be assured of a getting a twin right then and there?

I don’t know if I’m mature and responsible enough to raise my own children. I don’t believe that kids are planned. You’ll never know what to do with them unless you have them. But if they do come, I could only try to do my best to provide for them. I just wish that they come in sets of two.

Yesterday or One with the Joes

While most people yesterday were either glued to their television sets watching Her Excellency's 9th and last State of the Nation Address or were out on the streets making a lot of noise, I was out but not on the streets but rather I was in a hospital for a health check. I've been sick since Saturday morning. I was at work at the time when I noticed my throat a little sore. I usually don't consult a doctor for minor cases like sore throat. Yesterday was a different thing. I opted to talk to a doctor 'cause, though I make it a joke, I was in fear or if not a little paranoid that I may have contracted swine flu. Paranoid? Who won't be? Based on the things I've read about the pandemic, I have all the symptoms except emesis or vomiting or throwing up or call it as you may.

It turned out not that alarming after all. It was just the chronic sore throat that we contract every now and then. At the hospital, my throat was no longer inflamed and the doctor just gave me prescriptions for the cough and an antibiotic for the little soreness that I was still feeling up to now. After that short interview with the doctor, I was off and not forgetting my medical certificate.

From the hospital, I went straight to the mall. With no intent of buying anything yesterday, I browsed around like an expert window shopper. When I chanced upon the green falcon shirt in the teens department, I was very much tempted to buy. The joe in me just went out and bought the shirt. While fitting the shirt on, I chanced upon a Hot Rod aka Rodimus Prime shirt on the same department. The G.I. Joe in me just turned in to a Transformer, an autobot, and bought the shirt. Though I am no longer classified a teen, I would still fit in a medium-sized teeners shirt. Instead of one, I bought two tees yesterday. Spent around 600 bucks, so much for being thrifty and saving up.

I don't regret having bought the shirts. It was a good purchase. Best of all, I now have a shirt I could wear proudly on August 7th when I watch G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra. Now I could say, 'I am one with the Joes.'

Talk About Sleep

'Climb the stairs up to my room
Sleep away the afternoon'
——Barenaked Ladies, From Pinch Me

I really used to hate sleeping in the afternoon.  I felt, I’ll miss out on a lot of things if I did.  When I was a kid, I really envy my neighbors whose parents do not force them to take an afternoon nap.  Well, some of them don’t take afternoon naps because they have to run errands for their parents.  I have friends who used to sell banana-cues—I don’t know how to spell it—and other snacks at around 2 or 3 in the afternoon.  Some friends are just too lucky their parents are too lenient.

I hated the siesta because cartoons usually air at around 3 or 4 in the afternoon and some as early as 2.  Also, my friends are either playing hide-and-seek or catching bugs in the open space a few meters from our house.  My parents compelled me to rest in the afternoon.  If my parents were not around, my uncle or any other relative would force me to.  I remember, several times, how I pretended to sleep and waited for my parents to doze off.  If they did fall asleep ahead of me, I would stealthily go out and play.  If my parents woke up and found out I escaped, one thing’s for sure, I’ll be hit by a stick. 

When I was in high school, my parents no longer forced me to sleep in the afternoon.  I and my friends agreed, ‘High school students don’t take siestas.’  Our afternoons were busy; but we were no longer catching bugs or running around dirty and sweaty.  Our afternoons were spent in the internet cafes.  StarCraft, Diablo and Counter Strike kept us occupied in the afternoon.  Also, there was the occasional p***; which we had to view secretly.  If not facing a computer in the cafe, we were in the mall either for a movie or arcade games. 

Came college, I learned to love afternoon naps.  Guess you’ll never learn how to love siesta until you’re older.   As much as I love to sleep in the afternoon, I can’t.  Afternoons were no longer free.  Most of my classes were in the afternoon.

How do I spend my afternoons now?  If I am not busy with anything, I’m asleep.  Well, that is because I am jobless as of the moment.  Sometimes, I do feel like not looking for a job because I very much love taking siestas nowadays—lazy me.

I never really loved taking afternoon naps ‘til I was in college.  Now, the thing I very much dreaded when I was a kid is the thing I very much love.  How I wish my afternoons are always free for sleeping.  Then again, it really is impossible.