tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60107218457592246492024-02-22T07:11:27.690-08:00NONE OF US ARE SAFE!Because in this day and age, nothing is safe anymore.noneofusaresafehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520173880650277096noreply@blogger.comBlogger35125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6010721845759224649.post-68882228916936388312014-09-28T00:14:00.000-07:002014-09-28T00:14:47.681-07:00Why I Won't Be Celebrating My Birthday This YearWhen I was young, birthdays weren't a big deal. Me and my family would go out to a simple dinner, talk, and go home. That was it. No gifts, no parties, no fuss.<br />
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At that time, I hated it. I hated not having gifts. I hated not having a party with my friends. I hated not feeling special on what was supposed to be my special day.<br />
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I promised myself back then that I would change that, and I did. During my college years, I started holding parties at my house. When I started working, I would save up for months for my birthday celebrations. I justified it as me making up for all the times I had an "ordinary" birthday.<br />
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For a while, it worked. My birthday celebrations during those years were among the happiest days of my life. In fact, this annual tradition would still be going on if it wasn't for last year.<br />
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Here's what happened in a nutshell: I didn't have time to organize the whole thing. I assumed that just the simple fact of me sending poorly timed invites was enough for my invitees to pause their lives so they could join me in celebrating the day I came out of a vagina. What a foolish mistake that was.<br />
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I realized right then that everything I did was out of vanity. It was only me trying to make myself feel special, because I always felt unappreciated. The problem was, I'm not charismatic enough for people to just come to my hastily announced, self-indulgent celebration. Only well-loved and wealthy people enjoy that privilege.<br />
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So instead of happily celebrating my 25th year on this planet, I just made myself miserable. I was trying too hard to make myself seem important, I ended up proving I wasn't. Of course, the fault here is really mine (note to self: send invites earlier), but it did give me a lot to think about.<br />
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<i>What are birthdays, really? Why do we make such a big show of it? Why is it so important to count the number of years before we kick the bucket?</i><br />
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The terrible conclusion I came to was this: it's good for business. Like Valentine's and Christmas, it's a great time for businessmen to prey on people's need to feel appreciated. And what better way to do so than encouraging us to invite family and friends over to spend months of savings on a single day?<br />
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But more importantly, I think the modern incarnation of birthdays also give us an excuse to make an entire day all about ourselves. Add the instant gratification factor of social media, and you have an entire society of birthday celebrants all secretly trying to outdo each other.<br />
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Did that sound too cynical? Sorry, but that's just how I feel about the whole thing right now. I mean sure, I appreciate other people's parties, and I truly enjoyed some of mine, especially my 24th. Hell, I'd do it all again. But this year, I don't want to depend on other people to make me happy on my birthday. In fact, I don't want that on any other day anymore.<br />
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That's why I'm taking a break from celebrating my annual countdown to death this year. There will be no parties. No drinks. No dinner outs, except with my family. Hell, I've even hidden my birthday on Facebook so no one will give me a flood of insincere greetings. <br />
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Why am I doing this?<br />
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Because this year, I want my birthday to be about me and my thoughts again. I don't want to worry about making a show for other people anymore. But most of all, I want to remember what it's like to have an "ordinary" birthday again, and that means leaving only what matters: me and my family.<br />
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Dear friends, I hope you understand that I'm not doing this out of spite. This is not me being resentful at you. Nor is this me being a cynical jerk. This is just me being selfish, and deservedly so. After all, it's my birthday and I'll do what I fucking want to.<br />
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I'll just see you next year. Maybe.noneofusaresafehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520173880650277096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6010721845759224649.post-23759622271279169402014-07-28T08:48:00.002-07:002014-07-28T08:58:57.727-07:00Accepting InadequacyI'm not delusional.<br />
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I know I'm far from being the best writer among my peers.</div>
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I just thought I was good enough to be somewhere near the best. Or at least good enough to continue writing at work. </div>
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For the longest time, I've received plenty of glowing praise for my writing. Friends and fellow writers said they loved my stuff. Hell, even a few strangers sent me pleasant words of encouragement.</div>
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Of course, there were a few criticisms as well. And I took them well enough at first. </div>
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You see, I've been told repeatedly over the past year that there's a certain awkwardness to my writing. I consider it just part of my style, but apparently, it's bad enough to be unreadable and unpleasant for some people. </div>
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So I listened. I scoured the web for additional copywriting tips and techniques. I ruthlessly edited my work. I began seriously analyzing and de-constructing my favorite writers' styles.</div>
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By the time March arrived, I've noticed how much better my new writing style had become. I've managed to cut down on my adverbs. I didn't write too many exaggerated metaphors and forced jokes anymore. It became easier for me to get to the point. I was happy with the improvements.</div>
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Unfortunately, it wasn't enough. All that work to make myself a better writer turned out to be an exercise in futility. I just couldn't eliminate the awkwardness in my sentence construction. Basically, I lacked the fundamental ability to write like a normal human being. No matter how hard I tried and how much better I became, the same flaws would inevitably re-appear, like the god damn zits on my face. </div>
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In short, I still sucked. And I couldn't accept it.</div>
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Naturally, I was furious. I felt like all my efforts had been invalidated, that I was unappreciated. I hated the fact that my work, which I considered superior to my peers, was not in fact better. All those improvements just made my work more readable. But it was not better. I was just another victim of ownership bias.</div>
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At that time, I didn't take responsibility for my own shortcomings. I lashed out, and I blamed the subjectivity of people's tastes. I thought I was being forced to write a certain way. A way that was closer to how my mentor wrote. A way that had more to do with his inimitable style than the actual importance of making people understand what you're saying.</div>
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I thought it was ridiculous. <i>How hypocritical! How dare you tell us to be true to ourselves when you wouldn't let me write the way I want? You're just biased towards your own personal style and preferences!</i> <i>How can you say with a straight face that x person's work is better than mine? Isn't getting the message across the most important thing?</i> These were the thoughts that swam in my head for weeks.</div>
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In my defense, I was really angry. And angry people are never rational. No matter how smart or well-adjusted you think you are, extreme emotions will always mess with your head. </div>
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I mean, do you know what it feels like to be told you're not good enough at the thing you thought you did best? That your improvements didn't change the fact that you have a fundamental inability to write like a regular person?</div>
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Do you know how it feels to know that your shortcomings are probably unfixable? That your skills are good enough for almost everywhere else, except for the one place that matters to you? </div>
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Do you know how it feels like when the place and person you love working for tell you that you can't do what you love anymore? That it's better to quit instead of forcing yourself to fit into the position you can't see yourself without?</div>
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These truths were the toughest pills I've ever swallowed in my life. I could either leave or live with it. Simple as that. It didn't matter how many friends I made, how much I loved working there, or how many good ideas I've contributed. It didn't matter that more people loved my work than those who didn't. If I wanted to stay, I had to accept that I'm just not good enough at writing.</div>
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Man, typing out those sentences was painful. Fuck, I'm still a little angry as I type this.<br />
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But through all those nights of bitter, angry contemplation, I realized something more worrying than my career crisis: an identity crisis. <i>This is not me.</i> I am not a self-centered, immature jerk with self-esteem issues. I am not the the guy that blames others for my own fuck-ups. That's exactly the type of person I hate the most, and I had somehow become just that.<br />
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I knew right then that this couldn't continue. If there's one thing my stupid pride can't take, it's becoming what I hate. I just can't forgive myself if that happens.<br />
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Thankfully, I've slowly regained some clarity over the past few weeks. I constantly remind myself to forget the past and ditch the ego when it came to work. I slowly became less attached to my creations. It didn't hurt me as much to see that my work wasn't good enough, despite rewriting the same goddamn piece of copy over and over again for three days. Writing became just another inconsequential task to me. It was no more disheartening than running out of your favorite hot sauce brand at the grocery. Why? Because there were always other brands. Likewise, there were other things I was good at, even though they're not nearly at the same level as my writing.<br />
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By now, I've accepted the simple fact that I'm probably just not cut out to be a copywriter (at least not in my current company). And that's okay. It's actually kind of liberating. I no longer needed to define myself as such, because I don't need to be one anymore. I can try other things now, which is honestly scary. Because if it turns out I also suck at everything else, I'd be essentially useless. </div>
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But the more I think about it, the less terrified I get. Because thanks to all that self-inflicted torment, I remembered something I forgot. Something I hope to never bury deep in my mind again.</div>
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I remembered that I am my own master. That I've never been afraid to take new paths, wherever they might lead. Just 2 years ago, I never imagined I'd be lucky enough to be where I am now.<br />
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So who knows where I'll be in the next 5 years? Guess I'll have to wait and see.</div>
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noneofusaresafehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520173880650277096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6010721845759224649.post-5328499733298483992014-06-07T04:31:00.000-07:002014-06-07T04:31:03.083-07:00The Fault in Our Romantic Movies<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="line-height: 15.68px; white-space: pre-wrap;">When done well, tragic romances are among cinema’s most powerful and memorable stories. You’d think that would be the case with the movie adaptation of The Fault in our Stars. After all, few premises are sadder than a teenage couple’s first romance being mercilessly obliterated by a deadly disease.</span></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.beliefnet.com/columnists/moviemom/files/2014/06/fault-in-our-stars-poster-large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.beliefnet.com/columnists/moviemom/files/2014/06/fault-in-our-stars-poster-large.jpg" height="200" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="line-height: 15.68px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="line-height: 15.68px; white-space: pre-wrap;">The film's faithfulness to its source material might be its greatest flaw. Sure, it's great for the book's legion of teenage fans, but not for adult viewers who know that real teens aren’t as self-aware and profound as Hazel Grace and Gus Waters. Their witty and philosophical exchanges are a constant reminder that these teens, while lovable, are speaking words written by an adult. <br /><br />In the long, immersive act of reading a book, the obvious unbelievability of the characters’ speeches and worldviews probably work well. Credit that to John Green being a great writer. But in a movie with a relatively short runtime, it doesn’t get quite the same effect.<br /><br />Thankfully, the two leads have a natural charm and chemistry to them. Their quirks, angst and awkwardness were portrayed well, making it easy for us to empathize with their problems. Shailene Woodley’s introverted Hazel has a subtle, yet powerful strength of character. Ansel Egort’s Augustus Waters has a magnetic confidence that’s mesmerizing. He may have lost a leg, but not his sense of humor and ambition. They’re both a joy to watch, and their interactions alone make this film seem better than it is.<br /><br />I also admired Director Josh Boone’s restraint. He did not let this movie devolve into contrived melodrama. But given the nature of this story, that might have been the better approach. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="line-height: 15.68px; white-space: pre-wrap;">The most intense parts of the story could have been set-up better. I could see tragedy coming a few scenes before it actually does. This lessens their emotional impact when they do happen. The movie ends up being predictable, which kills the sense of dread that would’ve made it the heart-wrenching story that the book’s diehard fans claim it is.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">I also have issues with the soundtrack's placement in the movie. The songs are good on their own, but they tend to be an obvious cue for what the audience should feel in a given scene. It's like they're trying too hard to establish a mood, even when the actors are more than capable of doing so by themselves. Instead of adding depth and drama to the scenes, the soundtrack comes close to being an unnecessary distraction.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="line-height: 15.68px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />But don’t get me wrong, the Fault in our Stars is very watchable film. Just don’t let your expectations get too high. Enjoy it for what is, and you’ll find it refreshing compared to Hollywood’s usual romantic dramas. For the most part, this movie does a great job reminding us that love can bloom even with death lurking constantly in the background.</span></span></div>
noneofusaresafehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520173880650277096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6010721845759224649.post-84387997318387529632014-01-19T05:23:00.001-08:002014-01-19T06:39:40.358-08:005 Things I Learned as a Social Media ManagerUnless you're one of those people who avoid social media like a toothless hooker, you're probably on Facebook or Twitter everyday. You've probably even liked a few fan pages or followed some corporate accounts for one reason or another.<br />
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Most people don't realize that a lot of work goes behind managing these pages. Depending on the brand's influence, it can be anywhere from 1 person to an entire creative team. For the better part of last year up to now, I've been one of them.<br />
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In that short time, I've noticed a few things. Some of them are interesting, while others make me want to slap someone's parents for producing annoyingly ignorant offspring.<br />
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Here are 5 things I've learned as a social media manager.<br />
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<b>5. Some people don't understand social media</b></h2>
Social media gives a lot of stupid people a wider stage to showcase their ignorance. Anyone who's ever managed a page that reached a sizable audience from using promoted posts knows this. The most random selection of people will like your page, and they'll leave the most random comments, too.<br />
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Trust me, it gets tiring replying to idiots all day. I can't recall how many times I've had to say, "I'm just sharing, this isn't for sale," "our contact info is in the page description" or "the price is in the picture." Some will leave vague comments that have seem to have no relation whatsoever to your posts (often done in broken English).<br />
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Sometimes, I think these people aren't just new to social media, but to the internet as well. How else can you explain their complete lack of common sense to use Google? How can they have the money (which is dubious too) to buy an expensive gadget, but not the knowledge of its benefits over the previous model? It's blind, lazy consumerism at it's worst.<br />
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What's most annoying tough, is the fact that some turd sacks expect you to be online at all times. We need to rest too, so don't expect a reply to your dumb inquiry at 2:00 in the morning on a weekend. I'd much rather lose IQ points drinking myself into a stupor than with your brain cell-destroying questions.<br />
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4. Some brands don't understand social media, either</h2>
Ignorance goes both ways. It's not just fans who are guilty of dumb posts, brands do it too. If you're familiar with how the best pages operate, you know they don't spam their fans with product posts. Why? Because doing so is the online equivalent of those pesky insurance sales reps that lurk like predators at the mall.<br />
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And yet, it happens way too often online. I've un-liked a lot of pages that did nothing but sell me their crap. These brands forget that social media isn't an online billboard. People go online to connect, to be entertained, or to simply waste time. They aren't there to shop.<br />
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What's more amusing are the brands that know the value of putting unrelated content on their page. It's a very effective way to humanize and diversify the brand when done well, but it gets hilarious when they post stuff that just doesn't match the brand's image. The latter is what happens when brands (or the social media manager) try to be hip and forget their target audiences' tastes or average intellect.<br />
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3. It's not as easy as you think (but it's also not rocket science)</h2>
Going online for your personal pleasure doesn't require much thought. You usually just log in, check what's happening, post a few stuff, reply to notifications, go to a few links, laugh at your contacts' failures at using the internet, then sign off.<br />
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Going online as a page/account manager is a whole different matter with a few key similarities. The first being that all interactions are incredibly important. Failure to reply to a complaint within a reasonable amount of time (around 12 hours) could spell trouble for you. Not knowing the right way to defuse an angry customer's ticking time bomb of a complaint will also make your brand appear incompetent, arrogant, or worse, uncompassionate. A carelessly written reply can make your brand sound like a jerk.<br />
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Second, everything you post reaches far more people than you think. Obviously, a lot more thought should go into it, which is easier said than done if you're handling multiple accounts and your work is more than just managing social media pages (I'm also a copywriter and brand strategist).<br />
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I've had the misfortune of posting on the wrong account (several times, in fact), and it's just embarrassing. But it also taught me the value of making sure everything is correct before sharing. There might be a typo, or a wrong tag that can change the context of your post entirely. You just can't afford to be as careless as with your personal accounts.<br />
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Third, creating good original content demands a lot of time, effort, and creativity. What worked last month might not work the next. Fans can get tired of the same stuff, so mixing it up is a must. Add the fact that Facebook's newsfeed algorithms (it's what determines who can see your posts in their feed) change constantly, and you'll get an idea of why this isn't as easy as using Facebook to call your friends butt-ugly monkeys.<br />
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Finally, there's a lot of analytics going on behind the scenes. We have to track our pages' progress to find out if we're improving our reach, just maintaining it, or if we should be looking for other jobs. We can see which sex, age group, and areas our followers belong to, allowing us to make adjustments with the content. Hell, we even know which hours are the best time to post for maximum reach (obviously not the hours that people open an incognito window).<br />
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2. We can see what you're saying about our brands</h2>
Another thing most people forget is how visible their activity is to anyone, especially if they have an unprotected account. Various social media tools alert us whenever our targeted keyword is mentioned. It's similar to how Voldemort knows you're talking about him whenever you mention his name.<br />
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If you've ever mentioned a brand on Twitter or Instagram, (even without tagging them or writing them as a hashtag), don't be surprised to get a reply from them. Every company needs to know what people are saying about them, both good or bad. That's easier now than it has ever been, especially with people's addiction to these sites.<br />
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A bored social media manager might even browse the blog you've linked to your social media account. I've done that many times (since it's fun and not exactly illegal), and it usually has me shaking my head at how bad some of these people write. Some of their posts make my high school essays read like Shakespeare. And the worst part is, they have more followers than I do (yes, I'm envious that such poor work gets more attention than mine).<br />
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Another slightly creepy feature we have at our disposal is an easily available history of all your interactions with the brands we handle. We know at once if you're one of our most loyal customers, or an insufferable troll we shouldn't waste time on. We see at a glance how influential you are (according to <a href="http://klout.com/home">Klout</a> score), which could affect the way we interact with you compared to other followers.<br />
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I've seen a lot of unpleasant things said about the brands I handle (and love). It takes quite a bit of restraint to not engage these people, especially if what they said is based on wrong facts, obvious bias, or just plain poor taste (although that's subjective). So the next time you're in the mood to thrash a company online, remember that we might be able to see who you are and might retaliate by leaving nasty comments on your artsy-fartsy hipster blog.<br />
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1. Yes, it's a real full-time job</h2>
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Brands being active on social media is still a fairly new practice. Add the fact that people mostly go online to just derp around with their friends and it's easy to see why I get a funny look whenever I mention what I do for a living. And that's okay, since I would've been even more critical of such a preposterous sounding job just a few years ago (you get paid to Facebook? What a bum!).</div>
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Depending on the brand's reach and requirements, you'll be doing numerous brand-building strategies, thinking of promos, monitoring your online reputation, providing customer service, creating content plans, maintaining and improving the brand image, and many more. There's plenty to do, and a lot of them go unnoticed and unappreciated by the unsuspecting fan. </div>
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Also, social media managers may develop an attachment to their brand if they love it and what it stands for. We can't leave our pages unchecked for too long, as it can cause anxiety. Being the paranoid guy I am, I always tell myself to check them at least every 3 hours, as you never know when someone will leave a vitriol laden complaint, or share a dick pic on your company wall (which has thankfully never happened).<br />
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With how fast technology develops, I don't know whether this job will still be around in the next decade. Despite how much I've come to enjoy it, it's just not a long-term career. That's why I'm thankful it's only part of what I really do, since I want to be real writer some day (with well-received books and goth groupies). When that day comes, I'll be sure to promote my work shamelessly on my social media accounts. Like it and share, please?</div>
noneofusaresafehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520173880650277096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6010721845759224649.post-62719334770065527822014-01-01T19:41:00.000-08:002014-01-01T19:41:09.195-08:00The Year That WasIt's hard to write my exact feelings on the year that transpired. 2013 was filled with both pleasant and heartbreaking surprises for me. If I can sum it up in a word, I'd say the past year was all about growth.<br />
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I'll remember this year for a long time, because in 2013, I...</div>
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<b>...finally reached a wider audience with my writing.</b></div>
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Early this year, I took a bold leap with my writing career. I pushed myself out of my comfort zone to see if I was good enough to join the insanely talented team at <a href="http://www.pepper.ph/author/adee-de-leon/">Pepper</a>, the Philippines' best food blog (according to Google and anyone with good taste).</div>
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To my surprise, I got in. Prior to joining their team, I've only been writing mostly dull, predictable corporate bullshit in my former day job, and mean, sarcastic, "humor" posts in this blog. I finally had the chance to write funny stuff that wasn't just for me and my twisted friends. I was ecstatic with the opportunity, but also terrified with the responsibilities it entailed.</div>
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As expected, I made a few stumbles and cringe-worthy pieces, but overall I think I did well for my first year as a semi-pro comedy writer. I'm still going to need hard advice whenever I forget I'm not writing in my personal domain, but I'm learning to overcome that. I'm very optimistic about what 2014 could bring if I work even harder and explore other creative ventures.</div>
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<b>...I got really sick</b></div>
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Health is probably the most under-appreciated asset in our busy lives. Last March, I got sick with a still unknown viral infection that had me worried about everything. I wrote about that horrid experience <a href="http://noneofusaresafe.blogspot.com/2013/03/reminiscing-sickness-and-its-silver.html">here</a>. This year, I don't want something similar happening if I can avoid it. That's why I'm making a commitment to exercise more, and if I prove strong enough, quit smoking for good. </div>
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What I can't promise is eating healthier. I have gained a deeper love and appreciation for food ever since I got into Pepper, and that won't change anytime soon. Or ever.</div>
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<b>...I finally got a job I loved</b></div>
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Luck plays a bigger role in our lives than most people care to admit. And boy, was I lucky. I haven't even entertained other potential careers when opportunity came knocking. I was offered a job by one of the people I admired the most. I took it immediately, in spite of some personal concerns.</div>
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At the start, it wasn't so good. There'll always be a rather big gap between expectations and reality, and it became clear to me that it was part of my job to overcome that. Things got weird, painful and even ugly at times. But I soldiered on, with only one thought in my mind keeping me afloat.</div>
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<i>These are all just growing pains. We will get better.</i></div>
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And soon enough, things changed. Everything improved, and I'm looking forward to being there for the long run. I will inevitably run into some similar challenges, but I'll be better prepared for them. Actually, I'm kind of looking forward to them. Nothing worth doing is ever easy or fast, so we must be doing something right. </div>
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I just need to get better at bullying myself into giving it all I have. I'm not used to having a lot of freedom, and I'm still trying to find ways to improve my time management. I promised myself that the one resolution I can't break is to make the most out of this opportunity. I owe it to not just me, but to the people who've placed their trust in my abilities. And if I hate anything, it's disappointing people.</div>
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<div>
<b>...I lost the person I loved the most in this world</b></div>
<div>
Last August, my grandmother <a href="http://noneofusaresafe.blogspot.com/2013/08/for-woman-i-loved-most-in-whole-world.html">died</a>. I cried more in that month than in the last 10 years before it. We weren't prepared for it at all. Sometimes, just remembering that she's gone forever tears me up. But that's life. Sooner or later, you'll lose people, for one reason or another.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I guess that experience was a wake up call to all of us about the shortness of life. Our busy schedules can make us forget what matters the most, and no amount of professional satisfaction can match the very human joy of being with people you love. Money isn't the most precious thing, time is. No one can buy it, and it's always running out. That's why I've become even more strict with how I spend my days. I simply can't afford to be as wasteful with it. Not anymore.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>...I really felt like an adult</b></div>
<div>
Work takes up a big part of your adult life. If you're not in the right place, you're essentially wasting your life. It's a tough pill to swallow. Life is the big bad bully armed with heavy hands called responsibilities and obstacles. If you're not prepared for it, your ass will get knocked the fuck out. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
This was the year I raised my own standards for what I should be doing. I became more mindful of the future. I worked harder than I ever did before, but I still felt that I fell short of my potential. You see, it's not enough to just work hard. I can actually work less, but what I really need to do is work smarter and be more efficient. I have to produce higher quality output in less time. And oh, meet deadlines, too. It's tough, but also satisfying to know you're earning your place in the world. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
This feeling was confirmed a few weeks ago, when I met some old friends I hadn't seen in years. They were surprised at how different I am now. I'm still every bit as loud and inappropriate, but they couldn't believe how "responsible"and "respectable" I've become. After all, I was the guy who used to cut classes to drink. I was the guy who got into a lot of trouble for gambling and other things. Now, I'm the guy who takes a time-out in a drinking session to borrow my friend's laptop so I can schedule fan page posts and tweets.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Seven years sure is a long time.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>...I learned the joys of reading non-fiction</b></div>
<div>
The fantasy genre turned me into a bookworm. There's so much wonder and splendor in those pages to make everyday life seem so boring. And for a very long time, I preferred to live in those fantastic, fictional worlds. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
After all, the mundanity of life was no match to the magic of dragons, wizards, and gods. But they do not exist in the real world, which is why people made them up. They're works of escapism. That's not a bad thing, but if you live more in the fantasy world, you might be missing out on the nice little quirks and stories of plain old life.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Since I no longer had enough time to sit back with a 600 page fantasy epic, my insatiable reading urges were unleashed on online articles and Seth Godin books. I used to only read a lot at Cracked.com, but I now have so many websites to visit daily for my regular information/entertainment binge. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
All this reading about the real world has given me a wider scope of how everything works. I learned the value of using a different tone to convey the same message. I learned why some businesses rise and fall. I even learned how incredible Jeff Bezos and Elon Musk were. Turns out real life can surprise and delight you beyond just memes like Doge and the Harlem Shake. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The bad side to this is that it becomes a constant source of procrastination for what I really need to do. One great article often leads to another. Before I know it, a couple of hours have passed already and I'm still stuck with a blank word document. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>... constantly thought long and hard about who I am, and who, where, and what I want to be </b></div>
<div>
I spent a good part of my year contemplating the present and imagining where it fits in my future. As a result, I've had to be more mindful of what I'm doing with my life. I've always been very self-aware, but none more so than last year. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Every major decision I made has been thought out in advance, weighed relentlessly against other options, and with a post completion analysis for comparison against my projected outcome. It sounds so clinical, but all I'm really saying is that I think, imagine and compare choices a lot. About everything.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Our mid-20's is such an exciting time. Depending on who you are, it can be exhilarating or terrifying. To me, it's both. I'm frequently optimistic about where I'm going, even if I'm not too sure just where it is yet. I try to enjoy the ride, even when the road is rocky and occasionally lined with the figurative horse crap. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It's hard enough on its own, but it gets even tougher in these times. With the constant loom of social media displaying everyone's yearly highlight reel like some sort of publicly viewable trophy room, you can't help but feel like you have to compare yourself regularly against their achievements. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
You think you've done awfully good for yourself until you see a younger batchmate get on TV, or someone you didn't think highly of get promoted in a great company. Everyone's lives are on full display, and it's only natural that some would look brighter than yours.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But here's what I'm really curious about:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<i>Are their lives really as peachy as they and their friends make it seem? And even if it is, why should I even care about the life that's not mine to live anyway?</i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I don't know. The way I'm wired makes me obsess about trivialities like this. It might be my way of subconsciously measuring my own worth against others. I'm probably just looking for some confirmation that I'm headed somewhere, but it makes me feel bad knowing I'm unintentionally using my peers as either goal posts to aspire to or cautionary tales to avoid. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'm sure I'm not alone in thinking this. The uncertainty of early adult life is intimidating. You never know what'll happen, as even the best laid plans can go awry. All you can do is work, dream and keep your focus. Because in the bigger scheme of things, no one will care more about your life than you.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
That's why I can't wait to see where I'll eventually end up in 5, 10, or 20 years. I can only hope it's something I'll be satisfied with.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Happy New Year to you. Now go, make something.</div>
noneofusaresafehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520173880650277096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6010721845759224649.post-63119938063566441862013-12-21T10:06:00.000-08:002013-12-31T21:58:44.740-08:00Alone<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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I often wonder why our culture seems so shocked by the fact that some people prefer doing certain things alone. Whenever people hear that I often shop, eat and watch a movie by myself, the most common reaction is "why?"<br />
<br />
I've given up trying to make people understand. I'm just wired that way, and no words can fully explain it. It's not that I'm antisocial. I simply enjoy the aforementioned activities with or without company.<br />
<br />
Our culture is obviously quite extroverted. It's become somewhat of a social stigma to be alone in a public place, and God help you if people find out that you prefer it that way.<br />
<br />
Is it really that hard to grasp the concept of some people needing more alone time than others? Since when has it been a taboo to enjoy spending time with yourself?<br />
<br />
I've never asked an extrovert these questions. I do understand why they enjoy going out so much, because I enjoy it too. Just not on their level nor frequency. Prolonged social interactions tire me out, even when it's fun.<br />
<br />
That's kind of a problem, because people often mistake me for an extrovert. When I'm with good friends, I'm loud and bustling with energy. I drop joke after joke while chugging down the booze like a hardened sailor. But I can't keep that up as long (or as consistently) as true social butterflies can.<br />
<br />
That's when I get asked the somewhat annoying questions. <i>"Bakit ang tahimik mo bigla?" "Uy, okay ka lang?" </i>Relax, people. I just need a break. Or maybe I'm just bored with the direction we've taken with this night's topics.<br />
<br />
When I'm with people, I need a good variety of talking points to stay focused. I don't mind discussing the newest pop trends or crass showbiz rumors, but those things get tiring after a while. I much prefer to have deep, meaningful conversations. I want to talk about topics that matter (to me, at least).<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, not everyone knows or cares much about these things. Sometimes, it seems like I'm wasting my time trying to explain my perspective. And the sad part is, I'm not even trying to convince or sway them to my personal biases. I just want a have an impassioned conversation, one that's thought-provoking and honest. Is it really that weird? Isn't that what makes us socially intelligent beings?<br />
<br />
If I can't get that from being with people, is it any wonder now why I prefer being alone?</div>
noneofusaresafehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520173880650277096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6010721845759224649.post-83823087811222294352013-08-27T11:23:00.001-07:002013-08-27T11:23:30.104-07:00For the Woman I Loved the Most in the Whole WorldLife begins and life ends. That's the way it is, and the way it always will be. But we don't often realize that until it's too late. We were reminded of that fact this morning, when my grandmother passed away with almost no warning. I was in the office when I got the news, and that single text message broke me down completely.<br />
<br />
My first reaction was to curse in disbelief. I re-read the message again to make sure I had not misunderstood it. I didn't. She was gone forever, and I was unsure how to act. So I retreated into a corner and did the only thing I could: I cried my heart out. <br />
<br />
In the middle of my uncontrolled weeping, I realized this was really happening. It sunk in like an anchor, dragging my optimism about her supposedly improved condition with it. I broke down knowing that I will never hear her voice again. I will never taste her cooking again. I will never hear her wonder aloud if I was gay again. All her quirks, mannerisms and expressions are just memories now.<br />
<br />
I couldn't accept it. I still can't. Especially not after seeing (and feeling) her dead, cold body. I cried again after that. It seemed unfair that it should happen so soon. I had so many things left to say, and so many things I wanted to do. Her birthday was just 2 weeks away, and I was looking forward to buying her something really nice. Maybe treat her to a classic Spanish dinner. She was a simple woman, my lola. Food and company were all it really took to make her happy.<br />
<br />
And we all loved making her smile. She became more child-like with old age, and despite it making her more impatient, stubborn, and a little insensitive, we all knew she was still our sweet old lola. She still loved us very much, and showed it every way she could. She'd bring home food for us whenever possible. She always worries sick whenever my sisters were out late. She'd constantly ask us about our careers, making sure we were happy with it. Hell, she would even troll us occasionally. She cared about us a lot, and so did we to her. <br />
<br />
I think we all knew this was coming, but we just didn't want to acknowledge it. The signs were there. She was getting more forgetful, and had trouble with her normal body functions. She started eating a lot more than she usually did, despite her doctor telling her to limit her food intake. She would get mad when we tried to enforce her strict, doctor-ordered diet. It was a constant challenge getting her dressed and bathed, and sitting for long periods of time would give her difficulty standing up.<br />
<br />
Still, I guess we all thought it would happen later rather than sooner. She was still very lucid and full of personality. I thought we'd still have at least one more Christmas with her; probably her favorite time of the year. I thought we could go on more food adventures to find her stuff she'd love eating. We all wanted her to come home safe so that she could get to know our sweet new puppy, Mochi. Even in her final hours, she was asking about the dog, since she loved animals like we did.<br />
<br />
It's just so heartbreaking. <br />
<br />
I have many regrets over everything. Our busy lives made it difficult to save time for her. We had our fair share of quality bonding moments, but in hindsight, they seem so inadequate now. I guess what really hurts is knowing I could have given her more. More of my time, more of my attention, and more of my love. She deserved it, after all. We'll always remember her as our defender, nourisher, and source of inspiration for living a simple but good life. She made us all better people.<br />
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Most of all, I'll remember her as my second mother, and the woman I loved the most in this world. We were raised in her house, but she made sure it was our home. She made me believe that the world is not always the evil place I know it could be. She reminded me that family was everything. She was my heroine.<br />
<br />
And now she's gone. Just like that. I'm not sure when I'll be able to accept it completely. What I know for sure is that I will never forget her and everything she taught us.<br />
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Rest in peace, Lola. You'll live in our hearts forever.<br />
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<br />noneofusaresafehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520173880650277096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6010721845759224649.post-75291583377119259472013-08-10T10:13:00.005-07:002013-08-10T10:13:53.533-07:00GuessWe're all familiar with that feeling. Depending on personalities and circumstances involved, it could result in anything from broken things or crooked smiles. Quick goodbyes and half-baked lies. We cope better every time we encounter it, but it never fails to suck. It gets stuck in our throats, choking us of words and logic, strangling our hearts, clouding our mood.<br />
<br />
Maybe it's for the better, we say. But it's hard to think that way right now.<br />
<br />
Not while it's fresh.<br />
<br />
Has it sunk in yet? Did you attempt to cure it? Has it left a scar? Did it re-open?<br />
<br />
Only time will tell.<br />
<br />
For now, it stings like a fucker. We ask why it happened the way it happened, only making it worse. Sometimes, it's not our fault. But it can sure feel that way.<br />
<br />
Was it selfishness? Boredom? Conceit? Malice? Pettiness? Paranoia?<br />
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Maybe it's just the same thing I'm feeling now, just magnified to horrific, reality-warping proportions.<br />
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What caused it? I can only guess. I promised not to go there. But I still did, as I just couldn't help it.<br />
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It's torture. Self-inflicted. Plain and simple. Looping on end.<br />
<br />
It ends when I want it to end.<br />
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If only you thought the same.noneofusaresafehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520173880650277096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6010721845759224649.post-31156549516555989872013-07-27T10:56:00.002-07:002013-07-27T10:56:40.078-07:00Seductive Lives or Deceptive Lies?I haven't been writing here too much. My day job plus my work at <span id="goog_285747900"></span><a href="http://www.pepper.ph/author/adee-de-leon/">Pepper<span id="goog_285747901"></span>.ph </a> sort of makes my personal blog look like a juvenile effort now. I actually have the time to be more productive here, but my willingness to do so is lacking. Besides, even an introvert needs a social life, or what passes for it in my case.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I've been doing a lot of thinking lately about delayed gratification. It's something that most people of my generation seem to have a problem with. While I definitely grew up at the start of the information age, I still remember the pre-online era. Fondly, I might add. Back then, I didn't have to worry about what others were doing to make themselves look cool. And happy. And stable. <br />
<br />
But I admit, the online world's convenience of getting everything you need quickly has made our lives richer, busier, and more open than ever. I just wish it didn't also make us more shallow, vain, and impatient. We simply want everything now, and God help the person who stands in our way.<br />
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I guess it's just my cynical self at work here. While I'm no shining model of financial restraint, I do find myself scratching my head at people (my age) that are buried in debts. Or selling stuff to buy newer stuff. Or going out of town almost every month.<br />
<br />
How are they affording this stuff? I suspect credit cards. Or overly generous parents (or boyfriends). Maybe both. Am I jealous? Partly. I'm the type of person who's not materialistic, but is easily seduced by the sheen of bling in all its forms.<br />
<br />
I guess it's human nature to want more. But how much is enough? I don't know. Maybe there is no limit, especially when people like Henry Sy exist. As much as I want to believe that money isn't everything, it's pretty hard to deny its power.<br />
<br />
Someday I just might find out how true or not this is. But until that day, I'll continue to not make it a bigger deal than it is. It's just a tool, and how you think of it and use it says a lot more about you than how much of it you have.<br />
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<br />noneofusaresafehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520173880650277096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6010721845759224649.post-576092657772941162013-05-03T09:07:00.003-07:002013-05-03T09:07:48.202-07:00Starting Over... AgainI have now been working for a year and 5 months. Doesn't seem like too long, but it does. I think it's because in that short time, I've been employed thrice already. Not exactly the track record a regular boss would trust eh?<br />
<br />
But then again, I'm no stranger to starting over. I spent a year in another course before entering art school, where I found out that I'm not really made for it. Hence, my 4 years spent honing my visual design skills have been essentially wasted. It now gets kind of annoying to remember that, especially when people point out that a copywriter shouldn't be critiquing design. (Even if I do have SOME idea of how the visuals should look.)<br />
<br />
I guess I can't blame them. Society loves putting tags on us to make everything seem simpler. It rarely is.<br />
<br />
What I do know to be simple enough (at least for me) is starting over. It's a luxury that not everyone has. To some, it's just something they're not willing to do. I find it disheartening at times, especially when I see talented people too afraid to leave their comfort zones.<br />
<br />
"Don't you realize how much you're wasting your life here?" is one thing that I often think, but never say to these people. Because it is a) arrogant of me to do so, (b) not something I have to say if they really aspire to be more.<br />
<br />
In a perfect world, we'd all have unlimited opportunities to be everything we wish to be. In there, I might finally be able to decide if I really want to be a novelist, a comic book writer, a movie critic, or a film director. Maybe even all of them, if I would be so lucky.<br />
<br />
Too bad real life doesn't work that way. There's just not enough time to be indecisive. You either stick with something and learn to either love it or despise it, or you keep trying until you find it.<br />
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I believe I have been lucky lately. I've been getting nice breaks and seeing the changes that a different environment and radical (but likable) people bring. I think I've finally started walking towards the path I want, even if it's still not too clear to me yet.<br />
<br />
I guess what they say is true, you do get luckier when you work harder. It seems like the universe isn't always a huge bitch, as she will occasionally recognize your efforts and throw you a bone if you work hard (and smart) enough.<br />
<br />
That's why I never underestimate luck. It is something that most successful people downplay, because it kind of implies that they didn't totally deserve prosperity. I think that is not true. Everyone who's ever succeeded needed luck to do so. But the difference between them and the average person is that they do not rely on it. They just work hard, play it smart, and let luck take care of the rest. For them, good luck is only a welcome result, not a crucial ingredient.<br />
<br />
I just hope I keep getting lucky. I wish to never get tired of starting over. It might be crazy for me to think like this, but the people who change the world are never completely sane. Now I have no delusions about being a game-changer, but I do know I have a good amount of crazy in me. And while it backfires on me occasionally, I've been slowly learning how to channel it into more productive means. And it is starting to pay off, I can feel it.<br />
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That's the beauty of starting over. You get to see things in a different light. You learn from your past mistakes. You realize that you still learned some fairly useful stuff from the suckiness of your former jobs. And you experience new things you otherwise wouldn't have if you had kept on going the same path.<br />
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So when you feel like you're not getting the most out of your life, or not living up to your potential, do consider starting over. You owe yourself that chance. Whether or not you believe that is entirely up to you. <br />
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<br />noneofusaresafehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520173880650277096noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6010721845759224649.post-14730375208664231302013-03-23T02:44:00.004-07:002013-03-24T02:12:12.447-07:00Reminiscing Sickness (and its Silver Linings)Right before February ended, my supposedly happy last week at work took a worrying nosedive into paranoia-inducing fear. I started having chronic muscle pains that spread all across my body. It started with a sharp pain in my left hand, then it climbed into my neck, my shoulders, my right hand, and near my ribs.<br />
<br />
Advil wasn't working. Neither did the hot compress. For four full days, I couldn't do normal human stuff without the pain keeping me in check. It sucked.<br />
<br />
My grand plans on how to proceed with the downtime between jobs all broke down, along with my body. I couldn't even read a book for too long, because the minimal effort it required to hold it would put a strain on my hands and neck. It was hellish.<br />
<br />
What really sucked though was the horrible timing of it all. By my last day at work, the pain had escalated into nearly unbearable levels. I had to surrender my company health card upon resignation, something I foolishly didn't anticipate because the premiums on them were paid quarterly. It meant that my card was supposed to be valid until March.<br />
<br />
I shouldn't have given it back so soon, because the medical costs when you don't have a card will really bleed your wallet dry. My last payment was sucked into a vacuum of numerous medical tests, consultations and ridiculously expensive drugs. There goes my budget for new running shoes and good ramen.<br />
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The good news is that the drugs worked well. While they didn't completely obliterate the nagging pains, they did numb my body enough so that I could get some much needed sleep. I could stay at my computer for hours again, and even managed to write some fairly decent articles. Life was getting back to normal, it seemed.<br />
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And then the itches came.<br />
<br />
Oh how horrible it was. It was unlike any itch that I've ever felt before. If you felt what I did in that first itch attack, I swear, you'd put a gun on your head and shoot it, just for it to end. Swimming in a pool of <i>higads </i>would probably still not compare to it. It was maddening. I was scratching maniacally at an itch that wouldn't go away. An itch that enveloped my entire upper body, save my neck and face. It seemed to be coming from inside my very body. It was like being devoured from the inside by ants.<br />
<br />
I was running, screaming and scratching all at the same time, in an attempt to distract myself from the hellish itching. It was futile. Like a rabid dog, I was thrashing around, unable to think clearly. Good thing my Mom had a pretty powerful anti-allergy medicine in stock. It worked well, and helped me battle a second, third and fourth itch attack that happened in the next week.<br />
<br />
By that point, we were already aware that some sort of virus was going around our house. My brother, fresh off a vacation from Palawan, had bought home an unwanted souvenir. He was the first among us to develop some (similar to mine) symptoms of a viral infection. We never really found out what it was, but I've a feeling it was Rubella. Also known as German Measles or 3 day measles.<br />
<br />
Which meant that I too would be having spots. And I did. On a Sunday morning, upon waking up, my arms were covered with them. Tiny little red ones that clustered together in high density areas. I was like some sort of grotesque reverse strawberry man.<br />
<br />
The next day, it spread to my chest and legs. Thankfully the spots themselves weren't itchy. But for some unknown reason, almost every time I would take a bath, an itch attack would follow. Even after the spots were gone, I had one last bout with that itch, although it had fortunately lessened in intensity.<br />
<br />
But without a doubt, the most terrifying symptom I developed was when the area between my stomach and groin swelled up. It became soft and painful. Every step I took had me grimacing. Being the semi-hypochondriac that I am, I feared the worst. What if my balls swelled up too? And everything else near it? The horror!<br />
<br />
Thankfully, whatever it was, it didn't last. It shrank the next day, and was gone the next. It was simply the disease giving me one last middle finger before leaving my body for good. However, our bodies aren't like machines. For one reason or another, I still don't feel quite as healthy as before this all went down. This despite the fact that I am eating so much healthier than ever.<br />
<br />
In fact, during what was the most physically painful week of my life, I was eating salad twice a day. It was sickening. I was soon getting tired of my dressing options. Caesars, Honey Mustard, Vinaigrette, you name it, I've probably used it to make my salad vaguely edible. Just having croutons and cheese was like a special day to me. I also avoided red meat whenever possible. I ate so much fish and chicken that I started to wonder what other non pork/beef meats would taste like. Like bayawak. Or snakes.<br />
<br />
In a further attempt to boost my health, I also started playing basketball again. It was pathetic. My shots were bouncing all over the place. I was panting like a fat dog before we even scored halfway into a set. The Koreans (who play ball like clumsy girls with cataracts) would probably school me on that day.<br />
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It was particularly sad to realize that 8 games (Win when you reach 12) of half-court ball made my legs ache for nearly a week. It was a far cry from my physical peak in high school, where I would easily run somewhere between 15-20km a week. Age is such a bitch.<br />
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But it wasn't all doom and gloom. Despite everything, I still had an abundance of time to do whatever I can. Given my physical limitations, I've still made a few really great discoveries and realizations, all of them requiring little physical exertion:<br />
<br />
- Community is not just an excellent sitcom, it's a superb TV series. Period. I cannot stop raving about it. Too bad its creator, Dan Harmon was fired after season 3. While it's still a good show in its current season, fans will definitely feel like something is missing. The deliberate craziness and absurdity seem to have been toned down. Guess I can say goodbye to the amazing concept episodes that make me just pause and snicker whenever I recall them. Oh, and Alison Brie is really hot. I am smitten with her. :)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.collegefashion.net/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/Community-Inspired-Fashion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://www.collegefashion.net/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/Community-Inspired-Fashion.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Six seasons and a movie!</td></tr>
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- The power of being in a popular website is amazing. My work at <a href="http://www.pepper.ph/author/adee-de-leon/">Pepper.ph</a> has really opened up my career options, and I am getting really good offers because of it. Just a year ago, no one would trust an unpublished, inexperienced copywriter like me. Now, I finally have some proof that I'm not just an art school graduate who decided to be a writer because I can't design for shit (although that may be partly true).<br />
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- It really is important having someone to talk to when you're down. My one man support system really helped me relax during those difficult times. Like always, he was reliable for talking about anything and everything, including the really ugly and painful parts. I'm really glad we re-connected again, because there was a time when we just drifted apart, for no particular reason. Hurray for friends who don't give you shit for being occasionally dramatic.<br />
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- The beating that my wallet took has burned this in my head: get a damn health card. As soon as possible. There's a reason hospitals never go out of business, and that reason has little to do with actually caring for people. It is expensive to get sick, so upgrading your lifestyle to be just a notch healthier might be advisable. But then again, even the healthiest people can get cancer, so it's still your choice if it's worth it to quit drinking and smoking altogether. Because YOLO, according to swag-infused kids.<br />
<br />
- And I hate to say this, but it seems like the better the doctor, the more apathetic they are. As a House fan, I know that it's better to have a competent asshole treating you instead of a compassionate idiot. But when you're the one who is ill, you will really appreciate a doctor who cares. Or at least makes the effort to pretend like they do.<br />
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<br />noneofusaresafehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520173880650277096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6010721845759224649.post-62165353517812363132013-02-09T04:11:00.002-08:002013-02-09T11:10:47.892-08:004 Dangerously Fun Things For Cynical Singles To Do This Valentine'sThe month of February is notorious for bringing the most despised holiday of single people. It is especially annoying for people like me, as we get tormented annually for being single since birth. Somehow, that makes us complete failures as far as society is concerned.<br />
<br />
While I don't really mind people's assumptions of me having a dark, gaping void in my life, I do mind the ridiculousness of some people who have an unnatural amount of enthusiasm for V-day. You know those types; people so unabashedly proud to not be a societal "failure" that they just have to obnoxiously broadcast how utterly, genuinely, incomparably happy they are.<br />
<br />
Now I know this sounds like the bitter confessions of a loveless, soulless bastard, but hear me out. I can't be the only one who wants to...<br />
<br />
<b>1. Throw Up at Lovers Who Wear Couple Shirts </b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://i644.photobucket.com/albums/uu162/richardchua81/Clothing%20Accessories/couplesshirt2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://i644.photobucket.com/albums/uu162/richardchua81/Clothing%20Accessories/couplesshirt2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Really? REALLY?!</td></tr>
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Whoever thought of this abominable concept should be shot. In the head. With a bazooka. To this day, I am baffled as to why there are still people who support this crime against good taste.<br />
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I suspect that the very people who make this shit probably have the same post-completion guilt as a hooker who agreed to perform ATM. Don't ask what that is. Just know that it is disgusting, and that no amount of cleansing could possibly wash that feeling of indescribable filth.<br />
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Puking at people who wear these is especially fun because not only will you really ruin their day, you also get to literally defile their expression of love. In a perfect world, I'll be given a medal for making everyone else realize that this sickening gimmick should be treated exactly like it should be--a dirty public toilet for drunks.<br />
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<b>2. Throw an Angry Cat at PDA Junkies</b><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Get a room. Please.</td></tr>
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It's one thing to be sweetly affectionate in public, and a completely different matter trading pubic lice in front of school children. If I wanted to see clothed people clumsily attempting to bump uglies in public, then I would have gone to a Brazilian Jiu-jitsu gym, because at least it wouldn't be nearly as awkward staring at them while shouting "lift your right leg!"<br />
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Sorry cat lovers, but to disrupt this unsightly phenomenon, bad actions against your favorite plush toys have to be made. And besides, if my suspicions about cats are correct, they would already be sharpening their nasty little claws the moment they smell unchecked lust hormones in the air. The only way I can make them any more dangerous is if I shit in their litter box while imitating their mating calls on a microphone.<br />
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And remember, cats have a reputation for popping in at the most inconvenient of times. Surely, no one would be too shocked to find a pissed, horny feline wildly thrashing and scratching its way into probably the most awkward cat on people exhibitionist threesome in history.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.absolutelyfobulous.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/01/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="312" src="http://www.absolutelyfobulous.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/01/1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Surprise, mothafuckaaas!!!</td></tr>
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<b>3. Barricade the Entrance of a Motel</b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.sterndahl.com/images/signs/lg-end_of_road_barricade.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://www.sterndahl.com/images/signs/lg-end_of_road_barricade.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Game over, horndogs.</td></tr>
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There is probably nothing more annoying for pheromone fueled humans than to see their hopes of getting laid get squashed in spectacular fashion. If only it wasn't illegal, it would really be fun putting an impassable barricade in front of a popular motel.<br />
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I believe the reason no one has done this yet is because no one wants to be the one standing in the way of people emotionally charged with mind-altering levels of lust. After all, convicts get gang raped for precisely the same reason. The only difference is that in prison, it only takes dropping a bar of soap to get the juices flowing.<br />
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As to how much of an annoyance I can actually cause with this, probably only a little. In fact, this is probably the lamest entry in this list. With so many motels in the Metro offering their own Valentine's Day promos, it would probably be more effective to...<br />
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<b>4. Call In a Bomb Threat to an Entire Strip of Motels </b><br />
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<a href="http://bethelbuzznews.files.wordpress.com/2011/12/bomb-threat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://bethelbuzznews.files.wordpress.com/2011/12/bomb-threat.jpg" /></a></div>
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Not that people will be in a hurry to get out, though. If they're already in the middle of a heated DNA swap session, I doubt they'll even hear the safety announcement over the PA.<br />
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The real joy is for those who actually value their lives over anyone else. I'd love to see a guy running out wearing only a towel, with his also half-naked partner behind him screaming, <i>"Teka, mag-antay ka nga, puta!"</i><br />
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At which point, I'll be ready with a flashlight and video recorder. I'll pose as a citizen journalist, and attempt with a straight face to convince them to give an interview. I don't expect they will, but if for some reason they're as meat-headed as most of the people who audition for Pinoy Big Brother, my first question would be, <i>"Ano po ang ginagawa ninyo nung mangyari ang</i> <i>insidente</i>?"<br />
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Needless to say, I'll probably get punched. Or more likely, end up in jail. And only then will I ask myself why I thought these were all good ideas in the first place. The answer is simple, really.<br />
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<b>Because I really hate Valentine's Day.</b>noneofusaresafehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520173880650277096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6010721845759224649.post-63514675599209969592012-12-13T19:49:00.001-08:002012-12-13T21:19:20.329-08:007 Things I'd Do In Case The World Ends Next WeekFirst off, let me just say this: No, I don't believe the world will end on the 21st of December. However, you all know how some people have taken recent occurrences to be a sign of the end times. You have the monsoon rains that flooded Manila once again, the recent assault of Typhoon Bopha (Pablo in local speak), and Manny Pacquiao just got KTFO. Truly, the weak-minded have every right to be scared.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://celebnmusic247.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/12/1209-Manny-Pacquiao-Knocked-Out-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://celebnmusic247.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/12/1209-Manny-Pacquiao-Knocked-Out-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The best example of all things coming to an end.</td></tr>
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But you never know. There are scarier things out there in the grand scheme of the universe that are worse than the Mayan prediction of doom. In a blink of an eye, there are multiple ways our world can end without warning. So in case that might happen say in the next week or two, here's a checklist of things I'd do right now, before we all follow the fate of the dinosaurs.<br />
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<b>1. Spend all my money</b><br />
Just not sure yet where to start. Do I finally get those graphic novels that I've always believed to be way overpriced? Or go to the best restaurants I know and order the most expensive things they have on the menu? One thing's for sure though, I'll be sure to greet the end of times wearing a ridiculously dapper suit.<br />
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<b>2. Bone someone</b><br />
With an apocalypse looming, almost anyone will do. If I still (and most probably will) fail to do so under the pressure of the doom clock counting down, then it's time to resort to uhm, "more questionable" means. I leave the interpretation of that statement to you. Hint: Celebrities and other attractive non showbiz people better batten down the hatches.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVpm-JGNPOhMA3Pv8Fgcqnlfg2U1gaZysND7HqaIG405xrWWueVvAQzDMlvoSGTqVnzo31NuEVrn4Ap9TYyklEdcR9uXugtl-IAJ67nFXDjs5ccoR2jB_K4Q9yTFRrUjGA3Y0La9ivGeQA/s1600/esquire-july-georgina-wilson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVpm-JGNPOhMA3Pv8Fgcqnlfg2U1gaZysND7HqaIG405xrWWueVvAQzDMlvoSGTqVnzo31NuEVrn4Ap9TYyklEdcR9uXugtl-IAJ67nFXDjs5ccoR2jB_K4Q9yTFRrUjGA3Y0La9ivGeQA/s1600/esquire-july-georgina-wilson.jpg" width="249" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Conscience be damned if I find you like this.</td></tr>
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<b>3. Run around naked</b><br />
How funny would it be to be running around the city with my junk flailing around the air? Very. For me, at least. Everyone else would be traumatized. To really freak people out, I'd also steal a latte from those social climbers hanging out at Starbucks and piss in front of a store's display window while singing "The Final Countdown." <br />
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<b>4. Be brutally honest with everyone</b><br />
There's a reason people lie all the time, and it's usually because either we don't want to offend people<b>, </b>or the truth is just too inconvenient. But if I knew that the world was ending, then I couldn't be bothered to lie anymore. I'll tell people exactly what I think of them, which can be either the best or worst thing I'll do in this list. <br />
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<b>5. Drown myself in all the media I've been missing</b> <b>on.</b><br />
It seems a waste of my limited time, but I'd still want to read all the books I told myself that I would. Same goes for TV shows and movies. There's just so much joy waiting to be discovered in the fictional world, and so little time to pursue them. But if I had to choose between dying with a book in my hand and having a hot girl on my bed, then I'd definitely go for the latter. <br />
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<b>6. Get a Stupid Tattoo</b><br />
Why would I even bother creating and justifying a great tattoo, when I could just find a really stupid one that's good for around three laughs from random strangers? Since I also plan to run around naked, it would be even better if they were to see Kanye West and Jay Z with the caption "Ball So Hard" on my ass? How about Osama Bin Laden near my crotch, with my pubes as his beard? Oh wait, that's been done before.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://thechive.files.wordpress.com/2012/03/horrible-funny-tattoos-bizarre-awful-2.jpg?w=500" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="268" src="http://thechive.files.wordpress.com/2012/03/horrible-funny-tattoos-bizarre-awful-2.jpg?w=500" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aha! Tis' perfect!</td></tr>
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<b>7. Make things right</b><br />
Despite all the magnificent douchebaggery I've listed so far, at my core, I just can't leave the world and the people I love with those awful memories. So even though I've decided to embark on some really ostentatious behavior, I would still make the genuine effort to reach out and try to make things right. I'll say sorry to everyone I've ever wronged, and will make amends the way I see fit.<br />
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Why? Because if the world does end, and it turns out there is a God and an afterlife, I do not want to have to explain why I believe I should be granted entry into Paradise. I heard Hell's a better place anyway, and they have already reserved me a seat into the VIP section. See you all there.<br />
<br />noneofusaresafehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520173880650277096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6010721845759224649.post-45895178280918171902012-11-25T03:50:00.001-08:002012-11-25T08:11:04.001-08:00The 10 Books I Want to Write One DayThey say you always remember your first. But in my case, I really can't remember the first book I've ever read. What I can say with utter confidence is which book(s) really got me into reading. A lot.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/8/88/Goosebumpscastwithstine.PNG/220px-Goosebumpscastwithstine.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/8/88/Goosebumpscastwithstine.PNG/220px-Goosebumpscastwithstine.PNG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The nostalgia is just insane</td></tr>
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Yes, it's the Goosebumps series that really got me hooked into reading. It opened up worlds in my mind and broadened my imagination far beyond what is expected of most 9 year olds. Before I was reading J.K. Rowling and Neil Gaiman, I was a hardcore R.L. Stein fan. </div>
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Funny thing was, Goosebumps wasn't really scary. Not even a little. But it was entertaining and wildly imaginative, despite its cliches and occasional predictability.</div>
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My point is, every writer starts out by being a reader. As time passes and my mind grows, I've come to appreciate the literary arts more and more. And someday, I want to write a novel I can be proud of, even if it sells just 10 copies. </div>
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So here are the books I hope to bring into this world, if I should be so lucky:</div>
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1) An epic novel featuring the most unlikely heroes of all: a dysfunctional family of suburban dwelling Pinoys. Think of it like the world of Alexandra Trese, except that the hero has balls, too may cats and mommy issues. The sidekick is his twin sister who is a genius level drug addict with a penchant for shooting first before asking later. </div>
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Their nemesis? I haven't decided yet if it's going to be a warlord who owns a grotesque chain of dimsum restaurants or an all powerful nature element trapped in the most unlikely body; a tarsier's. I am completely serious with this.</div>
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2) The Complete Guide to Wasting Your Full Potential. This is just my autobiography thinly disguised as a self-help book. </div>
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3) An erotic novel in which the hero is an idealized version of me. His love interest are two girls who are best friends, and their descriptions may or may not be eerily similar to Solenn Heussaff and Georgina Wilson. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwO4HjjUx1AyHeox-LVk2LEJ4E8IHl4oa0e322Vx6j8O_AHYWGZWegMO_QlvL_RZmTcNd7mwNbZc0Bu5VGy_ce-T2_oZNvJAJGN5u9OE1ahaBlvEg9kbuFhuiWCH1uz3d5Ohvkf3mTOks/s1600/georgina-wilson-with-solenn-heussaff.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwO4HjjUx1AyHeox-LVk2LEJ4E8IHl4oa0e322Vx6j8O_AHYWGZWegMO_QlvL_RZmTcNd7mwNbZc0Bu5VGy_ce-T2_oZNvJAJGN5u9OE1ahaBlvEg9kbuFhuiWCH1uz3d5Ohvkf3mTOks/s320/georgina-wilson-with-solenn-heussaff.jpg" width="316" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In case you haven't noticed yet, I am absolutely obsessed with these two.</td></tr>
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It will be my local answer to"Fifty Shades of Grey" and I will not even make any effort to disguise the fact that I will be writing this novel with equal parts glee, satire and disgust. And yes, my full intention is to make at least half of the money that E.L. James made writing that despicable trilogy. Needless to say, I'll be using a pseudonym since I will be disowning this piece of work regardless of whether it succeeds or not.<br />
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4) Write an original story for Neil Gaiman's Sandman. And since I'm overly ambitious and utterly delusional, I want to do the art for it too. It will probably be the most horrible piece of comic book fiction ever written, but at least I'll go down in history for creating a universally loathed literary monstrosity.</div>
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5) Create my own what-the-hell-is-this-crap graphic novel. The protagonist is a ghost who was killed before he can warn his lover of an approaching disaster. Luckily for him, his best friend is still alive, and he can possess his body anytime to warn her of the coming danger. </div>
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The problem is, his best friend isn't human, it's a goddamned pug named Choc-balls (guess why he's named that!). He's a fat dog who despises moving and is addicted to humping fire hydrants. Can he save her before it's too late? Will their love burn on despite the complications? Can I write such a book without losing my sanity? Only time will tell.</div>
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6) A Guide to Manila's Best Hole-In-The-Wall Eateries. Because I just hate pretentious places with their overpriced food and snobby socialite clienteles. </div>
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7) A semi-fiction novel which stars some of the people I know in real life. Their names and appearances will be changed, but their quirks and other defining characteristics will remain intact. My depictions of them will be neither apologetic or exaggerated, and still, the critics will praise them for being impossibly unreal yet utterly entertaining.</div>
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Once the inspirations for these characters read the book, they will instantly realize it's them and will probably proceed to sue me for every last centavo I own. Either that, or they'll ask me to make it a series, but with their suggested plot points in place. I'll lose interest soon after.</div>
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8) An Alcoholic's Cookbook. This will contain all original food recipes that is divided into 4 categories: Food for pulutan, Food you can make while drunk, Food that will get you drunk, and borderline inedible concoctions I've ever had the misfortune of creating while experimenting in the kitchen. If you were ever curious as to how mixing unlikely viands like tinola and champorado taste like, look no further.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://impose.vaesite.net/__data/gross-food.6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://impose.vaesite.net/__data/gross-food.6.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mmmmm-mmmm!!!</td></tr>
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9) How My Favorite Movies Should Have Ended. Nothing irks me more than a great movie having a crappy ending. So pardon my totally unwarranted arrogance for even suggesting toying around with the iconic endings of great movies like Full Metal Jacket, Citizen Kane, Inception and Requiem for a Dream. </div>
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Hell, I'll even go downright crazy and tie up movies that shouldn't be set on the same time and space. Imagine if Avatar ended with Jake Sully waking up alongside Dom Cobb. Or Jason Bourne getting into a fist fight with John McClane. The possibilities are endless! Unfortunately, the publishing rejections will undoubtedly be endless too.</div>
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10) Everything I Ever Learned While Pretending To Be a Great Writer. A partial autobiography mixed with my best (or worst, depending on the reader) drunken theories followed by brutally honest, sober realizations. I am hoping it will be the first international non-fiction bestseller from a Filipino author. Too bad I'm the only one who'll be interested in reading it.</div>
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<i>Before some hipster calls me out for Sotto-ing, let me admit that this post was totally inspired from the work of one of my local idols, <b>Jessica Zafra. </b>Here's a link: </i></div>
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<a href="http://www.jessicarulestheuniverse.com/2012/08/11/26-books-i-havent-written-yet/">http://www.jessicarulestheuniverse.com/2012/08/11/26-books-i-havent-written-yet/</a></div>
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noneofusaresafehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520173880650277096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6010721845759224649.post-31667585940381565862012-11-02T10:24:00.000-07:002012-11-25T03:56:12.606-08:005 Superpowers I Wish I Had (And the Stupid Things I'd do with them)I just watched Chronicle last night, and it was great. For those who are unfamiliar with the movie, it's a great take on the real world consequences of having God-like superpowers. I won't spoil the details, but it can get very nasty when such power is granted upon normal people. Particularly when it's a messed up, socially awkward teenager.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://cf.badassdigest.com/_uploads/images/18168/chronicle_m__span.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="194" src="http://cf.badassdigest.com/_uploads/images/18168/chronicle_m__span.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's a shame this movie didn't do nearly as well as the crapfest that is Green Lantern.</td></tr>
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Now I'm not (usually) awkward, and it has been a few years since I've been a teen myself, but it got me thinking: what superpowers would I really want to have? How would I use them? Would I be a hero? But most importantly, how long can I abuse these gifts before I either get jailed or killed by world governments?<br />
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<a name='more'></a><br />
This is of course such an overwritten topic, but I'd like to change things up a little by only putting the powers that would appeal the most to me. For instance, it would be really nice if:<br />
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<b>1.</b> <b>I Could Pull Out Great Ideas Out of My Head On A Whim (And Execute Them Well Too)</b><br />
Every artist seeks to create something truly unique. It is what defines them and their work. So imagine if you could create works of art in any medium that would be universally (or at least by your peers and idols) considered ground-breaking and just plain awesome.<br />
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In my case, I would love to be a total legend in any art form I choose. I'll write books that could rival the best of Rice, Gaiman, King and Rowling. I'll make Tarantino, Nolan, Aronofsky, and Spielberg fans of my movies.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://hpsupporters.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/michaelbay_lg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://hpsupporters.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/michaelbay_lg.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No, Michael Bay, you can't party with us. Your movies are terrible and you should be ashamed. </td></tr>
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I'll even be best buds and tourmates with the guys from Florence and the Machine, Go Radio, Incubus, Jedi Mind Tricks, Iron Maiden, and Metallica. On the weekends, just for fun, I'll create paintings that sell for more money than any Picasso, Da Vinci, Rembrandt, or Van Gogh. <br />
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Heck, I can even design gadgets that would make James Bond, Tony Stark, Steve Jobs, and Bruce Wayne green with envy. <br />
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<b>2.</b> <b>I Am The Ultimate Athlete.</b><br />
All because it would be really cool to dunk on Lebron's smug ass, beat up Manny Pacquiao and Anderson Silva at the same time, and outrun Usain Bolt like he was a paraplegic. If I ever run out of top athletes to pick on, I'll be the ultimate champion on Man vs. Beast. I'll make sharks embarrassed to swim beside me, and bears will piss their furry selves at the mere sight of my shadow.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://images.sodahead.com/polls/001868659/174757446_151209top_xlarge.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://images.sodahead.com/polls/001868659/174757446_151209top_xlarge.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In short, I will be what the internet thinks Chuck Norris is.</td></tr>
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<b>3. Say the perfect things at the perfect time</b> <b>every single time.</b><br />
If you watch Suits, House or Entourage, you are probably constantly amazed at how witty and hilarious the lines of Harvey Specter, Dr. House and Ari Gold are. They just know how to spit the literary equivalent of gold. Each and every single time, to boot!<br />
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If I could have the combined conversational prowess of these three fictional badasses, I would pretty much be the most awesome person on earth. Either that, or the most unpleasant person to have a conversation with on the planet. But that won't matter, because I'll have the perfect comeback to any detractor or critic that dares to find out what it feels to be psychologically raped by my unbelievably clever words.<br />
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<b>4. Make People See Other People for What They Really Are (Includes Me)</b><br />
We live in a world where image is everything. I believe that needs to change. Have you ever wondered what it would be like to truly know a person with just one look? I do. A lot.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://img2.timeinc.net/people/i/2006/celebdatabase/kanyewest/kanye_west1_300_400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://img2.timeinc.net/people/i/2006/celebdatabase/kanyewest/kanye_west1_300_400.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">However, you don't need my power to know he's a scumbag.</td></tr>
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If I could have this power, plenty of beautiful people would suddenly seem ugly. No one will have to deal with scumbags anymore, since they'll be avoiding them before they turn into their friends. We won't have to worry about telling secrets to the wrong people anymore, because we'll know immediately who are the assholes that'll tell.<br />
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And yes, for the romantics at heart, they'll know at a glance if their crush/gf/bf is worth it or just another entry in a long list of mistakes that includes liking Lady Gaga songs and wearing secondhand underwear.<br />
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<b>5. Be God</b><br />
Pretty self-explanatory, but the difference lies in my reasons for wanting to be so. You see, I have some issues with the way people view and treat God. I hate how people can be such bigots and have the gall to attend mass. I hate how when things are going great, you are expected to praise God, but when things are horrible, he has a plan for you (or my personal favorite: it's just a test). But most of all, I hate the idea of hell.<br />
<br />
What's the point of free will if you are expected to only do good all the time? I'm not saying you should go out and rape, torture and kill someone, but I seriously cannot imagine a loving God who will allow any of his children to burn for eternity for not being the people he wanted them to be. <br />
<br />
It's like giving a child a room full of toys and telling him he can pick anything he wants, as long as it's the ones you tell him to. If the kid picks more of the stuff he doesn't approve of, he gets punished.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://cdn.memegenerator.net/instances/250x250/12147450.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://cdn.memegenerator.net/instances/250x250/12147450.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
LOLs. Greatest joke of all time.<br />
<br />
So if I could by any chance become the being whose very existence I constantly question, the first thing I'd do is tell people to stop worshiping me, because it is not conditional to having a good life, and will not in itself make them a better person. Good deeds make you good, not the act of going to mass, saying your prayers and going to confession. <br />
<br />
I would then abolish all religions, make people forget about the very concept of omnipotent beings who love you but will punish you severely for not living up to their standards, and make sure no harm befalls upon puppies and other cute animals.<br />
<br />
Oh and the concept (or existence) of heaven and hell would be gone too. And I'd go down to earth once in a while to see if people are still being assholes despite of all the things I mentioned above. I'll instantly smite anyone who might be causing evil by spreading stupid shit like racism, homophobia and androgynous Korean boybands.<br />
<br />
But if I do that, that would make me almost as ridiculous as the present concept of God that I know and hate, right? So what do I do?<br />
<br />
Simple; I'll do everything in my power to give people the happiest lives they'll ever have, then I'll end the passage of time. They'll be kept in an eternal cycle of that bliss, where they will know no pain, agony, suffering, or stupid torture porn movies, because that's what everyone wants anyway.<br />
<br />
And when I can no longer stomach what I've done, I'll end that unending circle of rainbows and butterflies.<br />
<br />
In fact, I'll end everything and every one. I'll do it because I love them, and I can't stand to see my greatest creations reduced to beings with no complete freedom. Because no matter how offensive their freedoms are to me, it was my own damn fault for giving that to them in the first place while expecting them to choose only what I want them to be. <br />
<br />
So if there is any God at all, is it any wonder why he doesn't seem to want to get involved in the messed-up affairs of his favorite children? Did he create us, or did we create him? But more importantly, how did this originally light and fun post turn into a goddamned theological rant?<br />
<br />
That is why on second thought, I actually don't want to be God anymore. How can I trust myself with that power when I can't even keep this article on point?noneofusaresafehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520173880650277096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6010721845759224649.post-25373374644822364762012-10-27T02:41:00.001-07:002012-11-25T03:56:27.046-08:00The 6 Biggest What Ifs In My Life (So Far)<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgKt-qhB9ExRjeseTnOdZqiuiBXIbuLJhazFQSZSlgRjw_xnb6GiVVsdPF2OReGqGeACYKE0vqVGETQ3Pow4ZIaWqkelPRqWmKW6dzBX0EZPCFSz8ADy0PIEXMa3lMM1WzYCMwPzeuuuEH/s1600/The+Biggest+What+Ifs+In+My+Life.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgKt-qhB9ExRjeseTnOdZqiuiBXIbuLJhazFQSZSlgRjw_xnb6GiVVsdPF2OReGqGeACYKE0vqVGETQ3Pow4ZIaWqkelPRqWmKW6dzBX0EZPCFSz8ADy0PIEXMa3lMM1WzYCMwPzeuuuEH/s320/The+Biggest+What+Ifs+In+My+Life.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">4 Years in CFAD, and this is what I managed to make.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Everyone has things they wish they did or didn't do. Or qualities we wish we had or didn't had. And though I don't like to dwell on the "what ifs" and "what could have beens", it still is fun to speculate. This activity is by no means productive or beneficial to anyone, but then again, it's undeniably fun, a bit shameful and completely self-serving (well that sounded a bit too close to jerking off).<br />
<br />
Since this blog has been solely dedicated to my self-important opinions, I see no harm in adding yet another one. So for your (but ultimately, my) reading pleasure, here are the things that plague my head when I'm having trouble sleeping.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<b>1. What if I had been more outgoing as a kid? </b><br />
I would probably be less of a worthless trivia guy and more of the all around great guy I constantly strive to become. But then I would probably not have discovered the joys of reading a good book, or realized the amazing power of my boundless (but rapidly deteriorating) imagination.<br />
<br />
<b>2. What if I had discovered sports sooner?</b><br />
I would still be a suck-ass athlete. But at least I might have managed to snag a girlfriend. Or be a better team player, since I'm still under the illusion that I'm the star player of some unknown (and completely fictional) game of "Who has the biggest issues in life?"<br />
<br />
<b>3. What if I wasn't born as smart as I am?</b><br />
Okay, first off there are many definitions to the word "intelligence." But as always, I'm talking about my brand of smarts. What if I didn't have wit? What would I be without my ability to weave words into coherent thoughts? What if I wasn't the voracious reader that I am? I would probably be more humble and less judgmental (or not).<br />
<br />
Would I trade my brain for a less intelligent, but also less problematic and more reliable center of expression? Probably, if it means an easier path to staying happy and content. But that's a lie that assumes there is truth to the arrogant notion of "dumb people are happier because they don't think as much and as deeply as smart people." As usual, I am undecided on this matter.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjddWbGJT74g-_TdMYZdNqC2NCimE8MPUtKWlGAxbrYe41GvmK2zvZeFIMjY5Tp8RtNOq6-UrlnKodaWxW5rc-zRVQh_UX6wMMwC93QL_LDd0c1kK7q0pb_FtZ6IBHAVZ9_GyeUePVgyDQg/s1600/ragecomic.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjddWbGJT74g-_TdMYZdNqC2NCimE8MPUtKWlGAxbrYe41GvmK2zvZeFIMjY5Tp8RtNOq6-UrlnKodaWxW5rc-zRVQh_UX6wMMwC93QL_LDd0c1kK7q0pb_FtZ6IBHAVZ9_GyeUePVgyDQg/s320/ragecomic.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yeah men, Jersey Shore is the best show ever.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b>4. What if I was more of an asshole?</b><br />
This isn't something I aspire to be. But with all the articles I've read on how and why douchebags tend to be more successful, I can't help but wonder if that's the missing piece in what I still believe to be my wasted potential. And it's not just a matter of reading these things and assuming they're correct, I have seen first hand the countless times wherein the "bad" guy gets his way, and boy, is the bastard proud.<br />
<br />
There's a saying that "good guys finish last" and seeing as how Willie Revillame, The Situation and Kanye West seem to be doing quite well, I'm inclined to believe that one day, no gentlemen would be left on Earth.<br />
<br />
I'm not by any means the traditional gentleman, but at the very least I'm not out there giving my full effort to banging girls and pissing off colleagues. And somehow, my behavior is mocked because it's in contrast to the assumed image that people have of me. I guess that's just the way it goes when people think you're cool when you know you're not.<br />
<br />
Personally I hate to imagine what I would be like as an asshole. I would totally be beaten up, and wouldn't even have the level of success comparable to lowlifes such as that Carabuena guy.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH3ABLvhLtDpKB96GS7iRbt0PTga2snvlkNoBbOJUuG-WvycTqSTeSvFx-BiVGDSgg-5U8RiEIJPjdSP5sRaVK8EQAGVExI4a_YSt0l4aBUhyphenhyphenLyYPMfMvsD7uqXgjkDWRfFHhGs2k9zxL4/s1600/154261_471231257301_2401143_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH3ABLvhLtDpKB96GS7iRbt0PTga2snvlkNoBbOJUuG-WvycTqSTeSvFx-BiVGDSgg-5U8RiEIJPjdSP5sRaVK8EQAGVExI4a_YSt0l4aBUhyphenhyphenLyYPMfMvsD7uqXgjkDWRfFHhGs2k9zxL4/s1600/154261_471231257301_2401143_n.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yep, this is what douchebag me would look like. Every single day.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<b>5. What would have happened if I had gotten in a different
university?</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
Realistically speaking, the only other place I would have wound up was
at UP, since I didn't take the entrance exams to Ateneo and La Salle. I’m mostly
happy with how things went at good old UST, but I can’t help but imagine how
different I might have been if I had gone to another school.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
I guess it’s human
nature to assume the grass is always greener (or bluer) on the other side. I
know for a fact that a degree from Diliman, Katipunan or Taft makes it a hell
of a lot easier to land a good job. Not to mention, the network of contacts it can
provide you will come in handy if you just know how to utilize them. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
Ah, but I digress. The
fact is, I’m perfectly happy with the wonderful people I’ve come to know as
friends. For better or worse, we all met at the right place at the right time,
under the right circumstances. I should just be grateful I’m not the semi antisocial
bookworm I used to be as a kid. And besides, I'm not sure I would mix well into the elitist crowd of Ateneo and La Salle anyway. (disclaimer: I have friends from both schools, I'm just generalizing a bit here.)</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<b>6. What if I was more
willing to fail?<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<br />
No one knows me better than myself. I hate failing. Especially at things I know I'm good at. I've lived my life coasting on my considerable natural abilities, and so far I have gotten mixed results. At some point, my willingness to work hard must match, if not exceed my talents.<br />
<br />
During one of my random inspirational reading sessions, I learned this: <b>winners hate losing, but the threat of failure never stopped them from trying.</b> And that is something I am now trying to incorporate into my life, but it's always easier said than done.<br />
<br />
I still tend to avoid situations wherein I am placed with the burden of being the one who is solely responsible should something go wrong. I found out that that is virtually impossible to remain that way in the real world. Not that I don't take some risks, but I have so far stayed relatively conservative.<br />
<br />
But the fact is, you will inevitably fail at one point, and if you're lucky you will fail horribly. Why did I say lucky? Since failing big time throws you into rock-bottom, you have nowhere else to go but up. I have this weird sentiment where I almost want to fail, just to see if it will change my way of thinking; but at the same time, self-preservation kicks in and tells me no way. At the and of day, it's much more comfortable to stick with established habits, even when they're doing more harm than good.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.healthcare4me.net/pics/cigarettes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://www.healthcare4me.net/pics/cigarettes.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Exactly like my other bad habit.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Ok, I'm going off-course again. I have a lot more what ifs to list down, but I'll leave that for another time. Or may be not, since this whole post has been far too honest already. So goodbye, thanks for reading and I hope you sleep better at night than I do.noneofusaresafehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520173880650277096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6010721845759224649.post-4405434288600961822012-09-23T04:51:00.003-07:002012-11-25T03:56:37.284-08:008 Stupid Things I Wish Women Would Stop Doing<i>Disclaimer: The qualities mentioned here were not written with the purpose to change, erode, malign, antagonize, burst or otherwise damage your perception of women in any way, shape, or form. Also, my sincerest apologies for those who will inevitably be offended, please know that it's not my intention, and that I don't really care what you think.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkhlaR7EupHV5rHyu8-_Nh4mt4tbLFiPqtC5OZZGb4LC96TytBnudvGFbHDBUdkXbQ-hL8JSKishaGGD7VlAelWb4O2eUievjWMynhQQWf73To5dw3fEDRxY95x6lJJORCnk87nQGtCwgG/s1600/090712.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkhlaR7EupHV5rHyu8-_Nh4mt4tbLFiPqtC5OZZGb4LC96TytBnudvGFbHDBUdkXbQ-hL8JSKishaGGD7VlAelWb4O2eUievjWMynhQQWf73To5dw3fEDRxY95x6lJJORCnk87nQGtCwgG/s320/090712.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thanks to <a href="http://www.behance.net/raxenne" target="_blank">Raxenne Maniquiz</a> for the great as usual job on the art.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<i><br /></i>
I'll start with an admission. Men are stupid. Not in the literal sense of the word, (although there are exceptions) but in the situations and choices that they choose to get themselves into. Oftentimes, it's brought about by our insane need to satisfy our basic urges, but mostly it's because it just seemed like a good idea at that time.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXT7gtGXCCIQC5VvFSF6klgvlYe7_tLNvV1e9I6GlN9kO4vwT1ahiVBbonm5C2ALzxqbk8r_NoW8LBK95XrM_SwcgNXzuv8WVadG6YUcFvbc5B09HgewPB1zT0bb49kjXXkFvz-XvcYkXT/s1600/jackass4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXT7gtGXCCIQC5VvFSF6klgvlYe7_tLNvV1e9I6GlN9kO4vwT1ahiVBbonm5C2ALzxqbk8r_NoW8LBK95XrM_SwcgNXzuv8WVadG6YUcFvbc5B09HgewPB1zT0bb49kjXXkFvz-XvcYkXT/s320/jackass4.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And that's how this hit show came to be.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
But just like men, members of the female species are capable of making equally stupid decisions. Whether it's reading Twilight, buying enough clothes to dress a small African town or getting a tattoo where the sun doesn't shine, women are driven to these insane decisions by their need to feel special and loved. It comes in different ways and forms, but that's the general consensus, at least according to scientists.<br />
<br />
Now I'm no scientist, but I do like to observe certain peculiarities in women because it simultaneously astounds and confounds me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /><br />
So without further ado, here now are the 8 stupid things I wish women didn't do.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Following the gospel of Magazines, Books and Movies</b><br />
I've always believed that genetically, women are smarter then men. Which might explain why they're more willing to turn to sources other than friends and family for help. Generally, that would be a good thing. But I am always shocked at how much they put their blind trust in the "expert" advice of people who put no value in their lives.<br />
<br />
Fashion advice? Magazine! Relationship advice? Books! Need to fill the black void of your inactive love life? Insert tear-jerking romance movie! (with Ice Cream for best results) It's like everything they do must be researched and reinforced to ensure it meets not just their expectations, but society's as well.<br />
<br />
Sure, oftentimes the advice they're getting comes from true specialists. But for argument's sake, I've always thought that truly smart people know who they are and what works for them. It's easy to dismiss this as a matter of emotion trumping reason. However, I can't speak for people who genuinely admire and follow the advice of dumb celebrities.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC0v5eBGWCLFWHJvqLOPFX9eSYfBFvCmwXHsgw4iy_CC0c4KLPnvzYifoOBEh-4VquwxCaMjzo3EgkPK0nPDiowoccq9FLMjau0ZP2uhULjm5klSw_CShXtyrwuIAfTxv9o_k3_wj1xo1C/s1600/paris_hilton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC0v5eBGWCLFWHJvqLOPFX9eSYfBFvCmwXHsgw4iy_CC0c4KLPnvzYifoOBEh-4VquwxCaMjzo3EgkPK0nPDiowoccq9FLMjau0ZP2uhULjm5klSw_CShXtyrwuIAfTxv9o_k3_wj1xo1C/s320/paris_hilton.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Living proof that anyone can be famous if they're hot and rich enough.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b>Interrogating Their Boyfriend's Friends</b><br />
Ladies, I understand your desire to know more about your loved one from the other people that are important to his life. But going behind his back to do this is just plain wrong. There's a reason that "Overly Attached Girlfriend" became a popular meme.<br />
<br />
Women will probably never understand why men have the need to just disconnect from all forms of connection in order to do stuff that they like. Whether it's because he wants to go out drinking, or staying home to play a great game, these are things that we fully enjoy without someone checking up on us to see what we're up to.<br />
<br />
<b>Expecting an Asshole to Change</b><br />
It just doesn't happen. Especially if you're the type of woman who loves these bad boys. The bad thing about our lives is that we're the protagonists and we expect things to end like in the movies. Grow up. Happy endings only happen in shady massage parlors and fairy tales. If he cheated on a girl to be with you, don't be surprised if he dumps your ass for the next woman who takes a fancy on him.<br />
<br />
<b>Leading Men On</b><br />
On the other end of the spectrum is the dreaded Friendzoner. Sure, sometimes it's not being done intentionally. But if you're of proper age, I expect a certain amount of maturity from you, and that includes recognizing the difference between a friendly guy and someone who wants to be more than that.<br />
<br />
Seriously girls, it's not that hard. If a guy is showing an unnatural amount of interest in being with you, chances are he wants to date you. Otherwise, he might just happen to like the same things you do, in which case you've just found your gay best friend. Congrats!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://media.salon.com/2010/07/gay_best_friend_the_it_accessory-460x307.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://media.salon.com/2010/07/gay_best_friend_the_it_accessory-460x307.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't worry, he is totally serious when he says he enjoys shopping with you.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b><br /></b>
<b>Unbridled Pretentiousness</b><br />
I believe it's safe to say that girls love attention. Sometimes, a bit too much. It's one thing to say that you were at a great party last night. It's a completely different thing when you just have to give unasked-for details like where it was, how much it cost, who you rubbed elbows with, etc. <br />
<br />
Other examples of this include documentation of shopping in an expensive place, relentless tweeting, and endless gushing about how excited you are for whatever useless matter. Oh and yes, I'm totally bashing hipsters who love to show off how different (and thereby superior) their taste is over everyone else's.<br />
<br />
<b>Attaching a Meaning To Everything (and I mean everything)</b><br />
Can't a man just be genuinely not in the mood? Can he not be just exhausted from a hard day at work, and not in the mood to talk about it with you? Can he not just be romantic without being accused of playing around with another woman's proverbial honey pot?<br />
<br />
Men are simple creatures. We can be moody too, yes. But most of time we are open books that clearly state "leave me alone for ten freaking minutes so that I can talk to you later when I'm feeling better!"<br />
<br />
<b>Not Being Assertive Enough</b><br />
Some women are just plain too meek. Which is the reason why according to LinkedIn, men still get higher pay than them for the same job. They are far less likely to demand for a higher pay, which men are just oh so good at.<br />
<br />
In relationships, this is what leads to them being put in a position of submission. Always giving way to another person to avoid conflict is dangerous, and frankly demeaning. I know many beautiful, competent, and otherwise amazing women being made into doormats because they couldn't speak up and fight for what they deserve. This has to change, but don't ask me how because that's your responsibility.<br />
<br />
<b>Bitching About Other Women</b><br />
Women can be even more spiteful than men when they hate another member of the same sex. Men get over simple-to-moderate conflicts, women don't. Especially not to women who used to be their friends. Suddenly, they're nitpicking over every single thing that they they didn't like about an ex-friend, when it didn't use to matter. Men are just apathetic or indifferent, mostly choosing to just go, "screw that guy, who cares."<br />
<br />
In extreme cases, it's just because they simply don't like someone. It usually has to do with how another girl looks, dresses, or presents herself. Yes, men do this too, but not on the same level. Worse, they are scarily good at pretending this isn't the case. <i>Plastikan</i> is a game where the best players are undoubtedly women, and you'll be hard pressed to find a woman who will disagree with me on this.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://news.bbcimg.co.uk/media/images/49095000/jpg/_49095305_dress.244.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://news.bbcimg.co.uk/media/images/49095000/jpg/_49095305_dress.244.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I do however hate her for no reason at all. Isama mo na din si Charice.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
So that's it for me, I can list even more, but I don't want to get castrated by an irrationally aggressive feminist. The quote below is a great catch-all for some (if not all) of the crazy things that women do.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="background-color: #e7f4d8;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The man's desire is for the woman; but the woman's desire is rarely other than for the desire of the man.</span><br />
<div align="right">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE, <i>Table Talk,</i> July 23, 1827</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<i style="background-color: #f6ffe9; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px; text-align: justify; text-indent: 48px;">If you want to check out more of Raxenne's work, you can view her portfolio <a href="http://www.behance.net/raxenne" style="color: grey; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">here.</a></i>
</div>
<br />noneofusaresafehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520173880650277096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6010721845759224649.post-23900291513952074582012-08-26T22:45:00.000-07:002013-02-08T07:34:43.483-08:00It’s Time To Quit! (Your Lousy Job)<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4SbWugXLzW4dc7BxxgCk5D-fVD-qi0KrP-2SLVtvC8CmqT9epU-tjWCIoF-M0tvJ5PHTZdk0NZ6mG5F3i8FwHIOESKFq6_glfpssZ7eCPa32GzM-QmKITI4qkqGrgHwqtlSHFOsWWfUl3/s1600/082412.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4SbWugXLzW4dc7BxxgCk5D-fVD-qi0KrP-2SLVtvC8CmqT9epU-tjWCIoF-M0tvJ5PHTZdk0NZ6mG5F3i8FwHIOESKFq6_glfpssZ7eCPa32GzM-QmKITI4qkqGrgHwqtlSHFOsWWfUl3/s320/082412.jpg" width="260" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thanks once again to <a href="http://www.behance.net/raxenne" target="_blank">Raxenne Maniquiz</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span lang="EN-PH"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Countless of movies (and cheesy
life coaches) love to tell us that the difference between a winner and a loser
is their resistance towards giving up. While that is somewhat true across all
facets of life, there are some instances wherein not giving up is crazier than
rolling around buck-ass naked in a burning pig sty. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-PH">As most people in my generation have discovered, it’s easier to find
a clean public toilet in Recto during booze-drinking hours than to land a great
first job (or second, but who’s counting?). Simply put, there’s a reason why
good jobs are so hard to find: everyone wants them. But the problem is,
(according to LinkedIn) only 10% of jobs are advertised. The other 90%? Well
let’s just say that’s where the saying of “It’s not just what you know, but who
you know that matters” comes in.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
<a name='more'></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-PH">So what does it mean if you found a seemingly good job posting?
Tread lightly. The reason most companies require experienced employees is
because they don’t have the time or resources to train you. Companies who
willingly accept fresh grads usually have some very, very unpleasant things
lined up for you, so trust me when I say that a low salary is the least of your
worries.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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<span lang="EN-PH">If you do find yourself in a job that is less than enjoyable with
less than trustworthy management, you might want to have a look at the pointers
below to see if any of them apply to your current employment. If a lot of them
apply to you, it just might be time to quit your job.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-PH" style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;">The Top Signs That You’re In A Crappy Job</span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span lang="EN-PH" style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span lang="EN-PH">You find yourself wondering why
what you’re doing has no relation whatsoever to your job description. In fact,
it seems like you are doing the jobs of at least two and a half people.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span lang="EN-PH" style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span lang="EN-PH">When the boss enters, you could
just feel the collective life force draining out of the room. (Think dementors
from Harry Potter, but with pot bellies and horrible perfume)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span lang="EN-PH" style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span lang="EN-PH">You find yourself looking at
vacation getaways more and more often (but only the low fare ones, since you
still can’t get your raise)</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span lang="EN-PH" style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span lang="EN-PH">If something goes wrong with
your computer, it’s your job to fix it. (Don’t break it or you’ll buy a new
one!)</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span lang="EN-PH" style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span lang="EN-PH">Your co workers know more
about celebrity gossip than their jobs. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Pre,
alam mo bang sinamahan daw ni Angel Locsin si Phil magpatuli?” </i></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.spot.ph/files/tabloid-grab-bag-erap-to-teach-p-noy-about-romance-dugo-dugo-gang-goes-global--more/1335135138-TAB22.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="http://www.spot.ph/files/tabloid-grab-bag-erap-to-teach-p-noy-about-romance-dugo-dugo-gang-goes-global--more/1335135138-TAB22.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">But when it comes to crass gossip, this one is still undisputed.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-PH"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i> </span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span lang="EN-PH" style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span lang="EN-PH">Management can’t properly
explain the deductions on your salary. But they always know when you’re late
and when you’re slacking off.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span lang="EN-PH" style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span lang="EN-PH">You spend more time at the
office than at home (causing your dog to almost forget who you are)</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span lang="EN-PH" style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span lang="EN-PH">You don’t want to talk about
work when you’re outside of it. (except when drunk and in a ranting mood)</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span lang="EN-PH" style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span lang="EN-PH">You watch the clock intently
all day, just counting down the seconds till you get off work. Every hour that goes
by with your sanity intact feels like an incredible achievement.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span lang="EN-PH" style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span lang="EN-PH">You are dragging your feet to
get up in the morning to go to work. (you might even kick a kitten for getting
in the way)</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span lang="EN-PH" style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span lang="EN-PH">You entertain yourself with
thoughts of torching the office (and making sure the people you hate are still
locked inside while the whole place burns to the ground)</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span lang="EN-PH" style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span lang="EN-PH">You don’t find any foreseeable
benefits with maintaining your loyalty to the company. Hell, even the cheapest
motels reward your loyalty better than your employer.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span lang="EN-PH" style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span lang="EN-PH">You are constantly being
reminded that you are doing a good job, and your reaction is “yeah, whatever”
or “Go on, entertain me with your lies.” (said in your head, of course)</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span lang="EN-PH" style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span lang="EN-PH">The favourite discussion among
your co workers during lunch is how much it sucks to be employed there. This
goes on and on and on, because no one runs out of reasons or scenarios to bitch
about. </span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span lang="EN-PH" style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span lang="EN-PH">You don’t even make any effort
to look professional anymore. In extreme cases, even the minimal effort it
takes to be presentable simply just does not cross your mind.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span lang="EN-PH" style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span lang="EN-PH">Higher and higher amounts of
your salary go towards alcohol or any other form of entertainment that will
take your mind off work. </span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTwkFIlhH0coVWFjTJktaizS0S6T2eWVZLBKfbrbQhe2tmztr-nFw&t=1" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTwkFIlhH0coVWFjTJktaizS0S6T2eWVZLBKfbrbQhe2tmztr-nFw&t=1" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No caption necessary</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span lang="EN-PH" style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span lang="EN-PH">When you re-unite with your
college friends, you aggressively engage everyone in a “who’s got a crappier
job?” storytelling competition.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span lang="EN-PH" style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span lang="EN-PH">You constantly feel like
destroying company property. Or at least throwing one of them towards somebody
with the full intention of bodily harm. Or..</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span lang="EN-PH" style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span lang="EN-PH">...if you are not the violent
type, you are overly sarcastic with everyone. Or uncooperative in any group
activity. </span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .75in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span lang="EN-PH" style="mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">-<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span lang="EN-PH">And last but not the least, you
are reading this right now at work. Along with many other open tabs that have
no relation whatsoever to your job.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-PH">I could go about this the whole day, but the thing to remember is
this: have you hit your breaking point? Do the cons heavily outweigh the pros?
Are you in danger assaulting a co-worker? If you said yes, yes, and hell yes to
one or all of these, then it’s time to quit!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://writeyourownscript.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/quitlol.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://writeyourownscript.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/quitlol.gif" width="232" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sadly, you can't go around doing this in real life.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-PH">Trust me, it’s not as hard as it seems, and you’ll thank me when
you’re sleeping a whole lot better at night. Now go, stop procrastinating and start
typing up your resignation letter. I could help you with that, but then I’ll
have to charge you, and you should know by now that Google has just about every
formal template known to man. Just please don’t be a bonehead and copy
everything word for word. If you do, then you probably deserve that lousy job
in the first place.</span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-PH"><i>If you want to check out more of Raxenne's work, you can view her portfolio <a href="http://www.behance.net/raxenne" target="_blank">here.</a></i> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
noneofusaresafehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520173880650277096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6010721845759224649.post-16820232046524648382012-08-21T00:22:00.001-07:002012-11-25T03:57:55.578-08:00The Generation of Exaggeration<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBD7-0sltTyo5EGMYldrWIakiUm7GJENoWBRJ6hAWEzzuOGYxMFuPl3qwPLizrUIboUtnLM3eWt52b7WuH9hBMRSkp3qXgSYwOmOdcTN2H1vFCEEZXJofCCpI8a110mkyA5DbqIcVQBLTY/s1600/082012.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBD7-0sltTyo5EGMYldrWIakiUm7GJENoWBRJ6hAWEzzuOGYxMFuPl3qwPLizrUIboUtnLM3eWt52b7WuH9hBMRSkp3qXgSYwOmOdcTN2H1vFCEEZXJofCCpI8a110mkyA5DbqIcVQBLTY/s320/082012.png" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Art by <a href="http://www.behance.net/raxenne">Raxenne Maniquiz</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">OH MY GOD. BEST PARTY EVEEER!!!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">How many times have you seen
something like this in your newsfeed? The easy answer is a lot, if you're at or
near my age. We are living in the rapidly evolving information age, and boy,
have our lives changed tremendously over the last 5 years. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I still remember the days when you <b>DIDN'T
HAVE </b>to tell the world what you had for breakfast. Now, I can't go online
without seeing someone telling the world how hard his last bout with diarrhea
was. "The last time I saw that much blood and guts in a toilet was during
my best friend's triplet abortion at a piggery. Not only did we get the service
at a discount, there was also free lechon!" </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Okay, maybe not that drastic, but
like the title said, this is the generation of exaggeration, and I am no
exception.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It's amazing how fast technology has
moved, and it seems like we are still struggling to catch up. It's just so easy
to put yourself out there in the digital world, and the deceptive harmlessness
of doing so encourages some of the most stupidly pointless behavior seen in
mankind.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<a name='more'></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Here now are some of the
all-too-common exaggerations prevalent in social media:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>"Last night's (insert crappy
pop star or band) concert was amazing! I'll remember this for the rest of my
life!" </b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Of course you will, you took more
pictures and videos than the official coverage team. I really don't get why
everyone feels the need to extensively document such an experience. You paid a
whole lot to be there, why spoil it by taking out your phone and viewing it
through its tiny screen? That’s like ordering a three-course meal, and only
finishing one dish because the other two look too good to ruin by eating them.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://www.philippineconcerts.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/05/nicki-minaj-live-in-manila1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="http://www.philippineconcerts.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/05/nicki-minaj-live-in-manila1.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">But if it's this concert you were referring to, please kill yourself now.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>"Look how cute of a couple we
are! It's not enough that we love each other, everyone else must know!"</b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The sad fact of life is that nobody
really gives a damn if you're not a hot couple. And even if you are, nobody
likes getting spammed. So do us all a favor and keep it private. After all,
what you have is "special" right? Funny, because that same word is
used to described the mentally handicapped. So when you say that you guys are
special to each other, that really explains a lot.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>"I'm hurt and lacking in dignity,
what do I do? Oh I know, I'll post it on Facebook and see how much sympathy I
get." </b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Look, it's never easy when you're
having a bad time. I've had my fair share of disgustingly emo posts, and
looking back, I never really understood what the hell I was thinking during
those times. Keeping your head up and moving forward is the only real way to
overcome these curve balls life throws at us. But just the same, if you're
looking for support, why not just call the people who really matter to you? (Assuming
of course that you still have friends willing to put up with your crap.)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://cdn.memegenerator.net/instances/400x/23330199.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://cdn.memegenerator.net/instances/400x/23330199.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>"Look how great my new gadget
is!"</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The only thing you're showing is how
much you're willing to spend for stuff that will be obsolete in 3-5 years. Oh,
and probably the fact that no one likes you in real life, so you turn to cold,
soulless gadgets for companionship.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>"Check out my totally impressive
achievement: I ate five plates of unshaved donkey balls in 2 minutes!"</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Unless you've managed something
truly worthwhile, please refrain from sharing the most trivial of your
accomplishments. No one cares if you've managed to find the last piece of
underwear that you've been eyeing for months. Or if you saved a kitten from
being turned into siopao by swerving to avoid it on the road.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> The only trivial
accomplishment that I deem worthy of publishing online is having your picture
taken with Georgina Wilson and Solenn Heussaff while you all share a bath tub.
Without the annoying bubble bath.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://fbcdn-sphotos-f-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-ash3/552513_365091283561571_383510043_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-f-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-ash3/552513_365091283561571_383510043_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">But I'd definitely settle for being in the middle of this.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And speaking of celebrities...</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>"We can share all the
aforementioned shit above because we're celebrities. Deal with it!"</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">These guys are very, very influential.
You think anyone would be an online assclown if they weren't trying to emulate
their favorite bimbos? The sole reason people think what they do is important
enough to share is because celebrities have made them believe so. But that's
the difference, it's their job to try to look as normal as possible, which is
ironic because normal activities aren't normally shared online. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">But sometimes, it gets to a point
where enough is enough. No, random celebrity airhead, I don't care if you've
bought a new pillow. Oh, and your dog just got a haircut that costs more than
three full meals at a decent restaurant? The proletariat activists must really
love you! </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://cdn2.lostateminor.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/11/dog-grooming-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="258" src="http://cdn2.lostateminor.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/11/dog-grooming-3.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">If I did this to my dog, I would be a eunuch by now.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And this is where we draw the line. Exaggerating
on the great day you had won’t make it any better, it usually just makes you
look like a self-promoting narcissist with delusions of publicly accepted
grandeur. This is especially infuriating when you clearly state where you are
so people would know you’re at an expensive place. As if fun can be equated to
the amount of cash you’ve spent. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">But hey, if you are exactly like the
people I’ve described, don’t fret. I admit to doing some of those things on occasion.
And that makes all the difference. A little more carefulness on our part on
what to share will go a long way towards reducing the ungodly amount of useless
information on the internet. It just might end the mystery of why people have
been constantly unfriending you. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So here ends this post. I’d write
more, but I can’t wait to tell world how great it was to be out drinking for 4 (OMG SO HARDCOOOORE)
nights straight. Now excuse me while I scour about to find the best photos from
those nights to validate my undoubtedly authentic claim.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><i>If you like the art above, check out more of Raxenne's work at</i></b> <a href="http://www.behance.net/raxenne">http://www.behance.net/raxenne</a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
noneofusaresafehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520173880650277096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6010721845759224649.post-30097347920214399552012-08-12T02:00:00.000-07:002012-11-25T03:58:06.461-08:00Calamity! The 6 Observations I got from Habagat’s Unholy Rage<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
We
all try to make sense of the craziness that surrounds us every day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Be it the mind numbingly dumb soap operas on
local TV, the illogical lapses in logic of the people you hate, or the cold,
unrelenting onslaught brought about the recent floods, we all scratch our
heads, thinking aloud on why such things happen in the first place. And yet the
one answer we all seemingly default to is so simple: it is what it is. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Our
society loves to idealize every single facet of life. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While we’re all caught up trying to live our
lives the way happy, feel good movies usually depict, we usually have no idea
(or very little) on what to do once the shit hits the fan. And that my friends,
is when reality is poised and all-too-ready to stick a big, hard, throbbing one
up our rears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><i><a href="http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m7yb2sMYzd1qgoqcjo2_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m7yb2sMYzd1qgoqcjo2_500.jpg" width="320" /></a></i></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "Malgun Gothic"; mso-fareast-language: KO; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Prepare
to be screwed over by life. All 12 inches of it</span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "Malgun Gothic"; mso-fareast-language: KO; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">. </span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<a name='more'></a>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
So
how do these (seemingly) inexplicable things happen? Well for starters, let’s
go back to the point I made earlier. We are a society that downright refuses to
see reality for what it is. We are a third world country that strives so hard
to be modern Western city. We hate anything that has to do with change, even if
life’s very clear message to us has always been “adapt or die.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
And that’s
the problem right there. We are so dead-set in our ways that we don’t even stop
to pause and think if what we’re doing even makes sense. But who has time for
sensibility when you are too busy just trying to survive the ruthlessness of
the urban jungle?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://underside.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/willie1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://underside.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/willie1.jpg" width="293" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Who needs a job when you can get free cash on his show?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
So
here are some things that would make us tear our hairs out if it weren’t for
the all-encompassing answer of “it is what it is”:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Stubborn People Who Won’t Evacuate their
House Even When They’ve Been Told Repeatedly to Do So</b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
You
are already waist deep in flood. A rescue boat comes by urging you to come with
them since the flood is expected to go even higher. Do you:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>a) Do the logical thing and come with them</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br />
b b) Say “Ermergerd reskwer berts!” and take a
picture of the boat, and tell them, no thanks, I’m a good swimmer anyway.</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"></span></span> c) Ignore them since your valuables are apparently
worth more than your pathetic existence in this clogged world.</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span>d) Call up the local news channels, because this is
your chance to finally be on TV! (Because even Showtime’s “uncompromising”
standards for showcasing talents have refused you)</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -.25in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VqG-ATL6J64/TyTn7tuIcmI/AAAAAAAACVs/v7qfZLWgbqk/s400/showtime+to+end+soon+abs-cbn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VqG-ATL6J64/TyTn7tuIcmI/AAAAAAAACVs/v7qfZLWgbqk/s400/showtime+to+end+soon+abs-cbn.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Because everyone knows that no one has an eye for talent quite like these guys.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">People who Take Advantage of the Calamity
to Commit Crimes</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
This
one isn’t even funny at all. People are panicking all around and your first
course of action is to score some loot? Shame on you, low-life. If I see you
drowning from an ill-fated attempt at crime, my first option would be to find
the biggest rock around and lob it at your head to ensure that the justice
Mother Nature has dealt upon you will be dispensed. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Politicians Who Have the Gall to Repackage
Relief Goods to Carry their Name and Image</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because in the Philippines, no one is more
eager to shout “Challenge Accepted!” in a scumbag contest than your local
buwaya. What’s next, self-promoting posters listing how you’ve “helped” those
in need through your overwhelming generosity?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">People Who Volunteer For the Sake of
Socializing With Other “Golden-Hearted” people</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Like
I saw on Twitter, it’s a relief operation, not a goddamned soiree. Find a date
on a more reasonable time and day. But thanks for helping, that’s nice of you,
but please, resist the temptation of documenting it on social Media. Extra
shame points if you use Instagram to showcase how much you really care.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The Government Still Being Woefully
Unprepared for These Kinds of Disaster Situations</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Granted,
it’s an improvement over 2009’s Ondoy. But still, there’s not enough boats and
plans in place to make everything a seamless operation. It’s a start I guess,
but I’m making no bets with the guys who use insanely corny jingles on their
campaign ads.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/LkpjZXAbBWg?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Local News Foundations Using This As An
Opportunity To Showcase Their Brand of Public Service</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Look,
before I am accused of being a nihilistic bastard, let me get it straight: I
applaud your attempts to help, I really do. But it just begs the question of
why must you announce your Foundation’s name endlessly? There’s a fine line
between being informative and shameless promotion, and these guys blur it every
single time. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m always never sure on
what they do better: genuinely helping people or helping themselves in the TV ratings
game. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
So
what do you do the next time you see one of these happen?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can just breathe deep, keep calm and say,
“it is what it is.” Or you can choose to actually do something productive and
help people to the best of your ability. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you do, then hats off to you. Just don’t
use Instagram to tell the world about it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
noneofusaresafehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520173880650277096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6010721845759224649.post-79206821453102489442012-08-04T05:28:00.000-07:002012-12-13T20:08:21.072-08:00Walang Katapusang Ka-Machohan (Na Hindi Ko Maintindihan)Sa ka-una unahang pagkakataon, magsusulat ako dito sa wikang Pilipino. Kung bakit, hindi ko din alam. Gaya ng mga maraming misteryo ng buhay, hindi ko din maipaliwanag kung bakit mas madali para sa akin magbasa at magsulat sa Ingles samantalang araw araw ay nagsasalita ako ng "Tagalog."<br />
<br />
Pero tama na tungkol sa wikang ginagamit ko. Malamang lamang kung binabasa mo to nagtataka ka kung bakit yan ang napili kong titulo sa akda na ito. Hmmm. Saan ba tayo magsisimula? Saan pa, eh di sa akin. (Blog ko to eh.)<br />
<br />
Bilang lalaking Pilipino may inaasahan na mga katangian sa yo. Depende sa pagkatao mo, malamang iba iba yun, pero malaki ang tiyansa na isa dito ay tumutukoy sa iyo:<br />
<br />
Mahilig ka sa tsiks<br />
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Matakaw ka<br />
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Galit ka sa mga bagay na may bahid ng "kabaklaan"<br />
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Mahilig ka sa mga uhm, "indie films"<br />
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Naglalaro ka ng macho sports (hindi po kasama ang DOTA dito)<br />
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Malakas ka uminom<br />
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Ang tanging binabasa mong literatura (na hindi mandatory gaya ng aklat pang eskwela) ay ang mga magasin na pang lalaki pero puro seksing babae ang nasa pabalat.<br />
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Nakikinig ka sa machong musika (mahiya ka naman kung "Call Me Maybe ang ringtone mo)<br />
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Ikaw ay mahilig sa mga laruan (mapa kotse, computer, cellphone o aktwal na laruan)<br />
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Maginoo pero likas na bastos<br />
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At marami pang iba.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In short, ganito.</td></tr>
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Ngayon, aaminin ko na ako ay mayroon ng lahat ng mga binanggit ko na katangian sa taas. Dapat lang. Yun ang inaasahan sa atin di ba? Pero minsan napapa-isip ako. Bakit nga ba? Paano ba tayo pinapalaki at sa di maipaliwanag na dahilan ay more or less pare-pareho tayo ng kinalabasan.<br />
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Mahabang usapin ito. At nakakapagod ilagay lahat ng teorya ko dito. Kaya ilalathala ko na lang ang mga reklamo/obserbasyon ko tungkol sa paksa, dahil kung mayroong isang talento ang kabataang Pinoy na may kaya sa buhay, iyon ay ang mag reklamo at maglahad ng opinyon. Kahit walang punto gawin, at malamang walang pakialam ang mga nasa paligid, gagawin ko ito dahil ito ay masayang gawin. Pero ako lang yun. Hindi ko alam kung may mga kapwa akong lalaki din na katulad ko mag isip, pero hindi ko talaga maiintindihan kung bakit:<br />
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<b>Kailangan may mamatay para sumali sa "astig" na kapatiran. </b>Gusto mo maging brad? Siguraduhin mong kakayanin mo ang aming "recruitment process." May mga kaibigan akong frat boy, at naitanong ko na madalas sa kanila kung bakit pa kailangan ng ganitong proceso para maging katanggap tanggap ang isang tao sa kanilang samahan. Ang mga kadalasang sagot na nakukuha ko ay dahil ito ang tanging paraan para malaman nila kung karapat-dapat ba ang kandidato para sa kanilang samahan.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Buti pa sa tate, pinagmumukha ka lang nilang tanga.</td></tr>
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Kaya napapa tanong din ako, ano ang napatunayan mo dun? Na willing ka magpa upak para lang na tanggapin ka sa kapatiran mo? Para saan? Para sa mga <span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="tl"><span class="">pribilehiyo na natatanggap bilang isang ganap na brad? Malamang hinding hindi ko talaga malalaman. Ah basta, para sa akin, mas madali mabuhay ng walang hinahabol na kapangyarihan o impluwensya. Kung ano man ang pangarap ko sa buhay, mas gusto ko yun makamit gamit ang aking sariling kakayahan, hindi dahil may mga kaibigan ako sa mga matataas na lugar. Hindi ako tutol sa tulungan at kapatiran, ako ay tutol sa gamitan at power tripping.</span></span><br />
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<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="tl"><span class=""><b>Kailangan madami kang tsiks. </b>Hindi ako hyprokrito. Kung mayroong iisang bagay na nakakapag pasaya sa buhay ng lalaki, ito ay ang mga magagandang dilag. Gets ko na masaya sila kasama. Masaya makipag harutan sa kanila. At kung swerte ka, masaya silang kasama sa kama. At wala namang masama dun. Tao lang, ika nga. O lalaki lang, kung yun ang palusot mo.</span></span><br />
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<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="tl"><span class="">Inuulit ko, hindi yun masama kung game din naman si sweetheart. Ang hindi ko maintindihan ay bakit kahit may ka relasyon ka na, o di kaya may asawa na, ay kung bakit hindi pa din nawawala yung kagustuhan na lumabas at magpaka James Bond. Para saan? Para ba ito ipagyabang sa mga katropa mo? Marahil oo, bahagya. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://forum.globaltimes.cn/forum/attachment.php?attachmentid=751&d=1251271564" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://forum.globaltimes.cn/forum/attachment.php?attachmentid=751&d=1251271564" width="280" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ito, kaya mo ba ipagyabang na naka date mo?</td></tr>
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<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="tl"><span class="">Ang lalaking madaming chicks ay astig. Ang babaeng madaming boys ay pokpok. Hindi patas di ba? Kalokohan para sa akin sabihin na mahal mo ang isang tao kung hindi mo kayang maging tapat sa kanila. Marahil oo, mahal mo mga, pero mukhang hindi sapat ang pagmamahal mo sa kanya para tiisin ang hirap ng pagiging monogamous. Love is sacrifice ika nga. Pero wala nga naman akong alam diyan, bilang isang tao na hindi pa nagkaka gelpren. At yun ang susunod kong hindi maintindihan. Bakit...</span></span><br />
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<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="tl"><span class=""><b>Parang may mali sa iyo pag nalalaman ng mga tao na bente-tres anyos ka na wala pa din nagiging karelasyon. </b>Hindi ko lagi alam ang isasagot sa mga taong nagtatanog sa akin kung bakit wala pa akong kabiyak ng puso. Putragis, anong gusto niyong isagot ko diyan?! Hindi yan tanong na nasasagot lang ng basta-basta, tulad nang, "anong kinain mo kanina?" at "bakit ka late?" Lalo na kung ikaw mismo ay hindi din alam ang dahilan. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/4/43/40-Year-OldVirginMoviePoster.jpg/220px-40-Year-OldVirginMoviePoster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/4/43/40-Year-OldVirginMoviePoster.jpg/220px-40-Year-OldVirginMoviePoster.jpg" width="215" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hindi ako papayag maging ganito. HINDI.</td></tr>
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<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="tl"><span class="">Pinipili kong maniwala na wala naman akong kasuklam suklam na katangian. Kung mayroon man, siguro hindi yun ang dahilan sa pagiging single ko, dahil andami kong kilala na mas kasuklam suklam sa akin, pero may mga nobyo't nobya sila. Hindi nga lang sila nagtatagal. (Buti nga sa inyo, mga hayup kayo!) Pero at least, naranasan nilang ma in-love, ayon sa corning kung-sino-man-siya. Hmph. </span></span><br />
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<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="tl"><span class="">Mamayang gabi na nga lang ako iiyak habang kumakain ng ice cream sa tapat ng telebisyon... At ang tanging konswelo ko lang ay, at least hindi ako pumatol dun sa mukhang paa na yun para lang masabihang may girlfriend! (pero mahilig talaga ako sa paa. Seryoso ako dito.)</span></span><br />
<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="tl"><span class=""><br /><b>Kailangan galit ka sa mga bakla.</b></span></span><br />
<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="tl"><span class="">Galing ako sa pribadong eskwelahan na ekslusibo sa mga lalake. At siyempre, madami akong kaklaseng bakla dun. Kung mayroong mga parating napapag tripan sa isang iskwelahang panlalaki bukod sa mga weirdo, ito ay mga bakla. Pero bakit? Ano ba ang ginawa nila sa iyo? Kung hindi ka naman nila binastos, wala naman sigurong dahilan para kamuhian sila diba? </span></span><br />
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<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="tl"><span class="">Pero aaminin ko, minsan naasar ako sa kanila ng walang maayos na dahilan. Siguro dala na yon ng kultura na naitanim sa akin nung bata palang ako, na kapag may napakalanding bading sa paligid, obligado kang barahin siya upang manahimik. Pero hindi na yun katanggap tanggap ngayon, at mas importante pa kaysa sa political correctness ang basic respect para sa iyong kapwa. Kung bakla ka, walang problema sa akin. Basta wag na wag mo akong pagtatangkaan ng masama. Masasapak kita. Sa gums.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2OT_VvTNrpGMR6HvSXqpX4VPINtcLdpPw80opc2YXkov5Vmt0xJ9Ts1bilnf89eRncHSoS6BxpCbmueKRlg1KKDpHeTSdYQPIP_2Yerj-SVZ3QASrGokxwDjTiK1IVRqz-XDLcQLEz1hZ/s1600/HardGayAlbum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2OT_VvTNrpGMR6HvSXqpX4VPINtcLdpPw80opc2YXkov5Vmt0xJ9Ts1bilnf89eRncHSoS6BxpCbmueKRlg1KKDpHeTSdYQPIP_2Yerj-SVZ3QASrGokxwDjTiK1IVRqz-XDLcQLEz1hZ/s320/HardGayAlbum.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pero mahirap na pumalag pag mas macho pa dito yung gusto bumanat sa iyo.</td></tr>
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<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="tl"><span class=""><b> </b> </span></span><br />
<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="tl"><span class="">At ang pinakahindi ko maintindihan sa mundo ng kamachohan, bakit...</span></span><br />
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<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="tl"><span class=""><b>Kailangan mas malaki ang kinikita mo kaysa sa misis mo.</b></span></span><br />
Nagiging away madalas ng mga mag-asawa ang pera. Hindi nakakagulat yun, mahirap ang buhay. Ngayon, ang hindi ko maintindihan ay kung bakit nagiging malaking isyu kapag mas malaki ang nauuwing pera ni misis. Bakit? Mababawasan ba ang pagkakalalaki mo kung mas matagumpay sa trabaho si honey pie? Automatic ba na kapag ganun ang sitwasyon ay under de saya ka na, at binigo mo na ang samabayanang macho sa iyong barkada?<br />
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Sa tradisyunal na pamilya (at kahit nung mga panahon pa ng mga taong Tabon) ay inaasahan natin na ang lalaki ang bahala sa lahat ng mga pangangailangan. Pero dahil sa kinalabasan ng ating lipunan, hindi na sapat na si mister lamang ang magtrabaho. Ito ay isang katotohanan na kailangan na lang natin tanggapin. Kung mas malaki nga ang kinikita ni misis, hindi niya kasalanan yun. Kasalanan mo lang na may problema ka dun.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Isipin mo na lang, ikaw na yung ililibre niya! Paano naging problema yun?</td></tr>
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<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="tl"><span class="">At yun ang ilan sa mga hindi ko maintindihan na bagay sa mundo ng kamachohan. Ang pag sulat ko sa kanila ay hindi gawain na inaasahan para sa mga tulad ko, ngunit wala akong pakialam. At yun para sa akin ang pagiging tunay na lalake. Ang pagkakaroon ng sariling opinyon at kawalan ng takot o kahihiyan para sabihin ang kanyang mga naiisip at nararamdaman. </span></span><br />
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<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="tl"><span class="">Kung macho man sa tingin ng nakararami o hinde, ay hindi importante sa akin. Iniwan ko na ang ganung pag iisip hindi lamang nung sinimulan ko itong blog post na ito, kundi nung pag alis ko sa high school. At dapat ikaw din, pero ayokong mag dikta.</span></span><br />
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<span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="tl"><span class="">Kaya paalam na, manunuod pa ako ng aking paboritong drama na pang macho. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://grind365.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/650x486xSuits_USA_Network_700x524.png.pagespeed.ic.-aGaFYDSIi.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://grind365.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/650x486xSuits_USA_Network_700x524.png.pagespeed.ic.-aGaFYDSIi.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pansin ko lang, bakit ba lagi na lang naka high waist na palda si Rachel?</td></tr>
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noneofusaresafehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520173880650277096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6010721845759224649.post-25301097949994286812012-05-12T10:16:00.000-07:002012-12-13T20:08:39.165-08:00It's Simply The End (Of Many Things)<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">What a difference a year makes. I've realized in this short period of time that there's truly nothing, and I mean nothing, that compares to being out in the urban jungle, earning your keep. I've grown up more than I care to admit during these last few months, and with my rapidly maturing mind, I've begun to see things clearer and clearer, which leads me to a few hypotheses of why this world, (or at the very least, Philippine society) is so messed up. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">So here now are a few observations from my admittedly limited glimpse into the big picture that is life.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">All of them, like the title suggests, constitutes the end of something you once thought you knew:</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">- <b>You will be constantly surrounded by idiots</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">When you're in school (especially in a private institution), the people around you are more or less from the same socio-economic class. That means, you are often in the company of people with similar tastes, interests, hobbies, sense of humor, fashion sense, etc. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Now of course, this is an oversimplification, but you get the general idea. During your duration in school, you are in a secure environment when it's quite easy (even enjoyable) to simply ignore and ostracize the people you don't like.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">In the real world, the diversity is often way, way more extreme. Whereas before you could simply smirk at the weirdos in your class and not give them any further thought, at a professional working environment, it is next to impossible to do so. This is especially frustrating when the biggest idiot in your workplace happens to be your superior, despite their intelligence level suggesting otherwise. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUBC1bvZllJu1lc7X3FcVJ_DzYkopostlz4FUetJrrJ7ly4TEj0g5_G_TSy8p5zIVD2YBGRTkglAuRPHTwvg_cE-u3p1C5G50FXKYyY9lZ-4MZAb3M-l7IyUa2wizjc9tos3tmc_iWzDfP/s1600-r/boss.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUBC1bvZllJu1lc7X3FcVJ_DzYkopostlz4FUetJrrJ7ly4TEj0g5_G_TSy8p5zIVD2YBGRTkglAuRPHTwvg_cE-u3p1C5G50FXKYyY9lZ-4MZAb3M-l7IyUa2wizjc9tos3tmc_iWzDfP/s1600-r/boss.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">This on the other hand, would be awesome. Penguin boss? Sign me up!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;">But it does not stop there. Even when you leave the office, foolishness is present everywhere! If you are a commuter, you will be restraining yourself with all your might not to lash out at the idiot who can't read the signs at the train station. Or the buffoon that seems incapable of lining up properly at the terminal. I can go on and on, but that will totally screw up this post.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: red;">Bottom line: This is the end of your cozy life at a sheltered school environment.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">- <b>You will run out of money. Fast.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">With the pressure of work comes the natural tendency to indulge. We are hard-wired to reward ourselves for our efforts, and our new-found purchasing power is often as dangerous as a 13 year old behind the wheel for the first time. We are so excited and eager to go out and flex our status as a functioning member of society. But who can blame us? After taking money from our parents for most of our lives, it is certainly liberating to enjoy our hard work materialize as well, material things. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">That is, until you realize you're not gonna make it until the next day. If you're familiar with that feeling, then you know you're gonna have a bad time. Cue budget meals and cheap biscuits! You are now entering the zone of an undesired diet!</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.evernewrecipes.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/Recipe-of-white-Rice.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://www.evernewrecipes.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/Recipe-of-white-Rice.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Pre, pa amoy na lang ng ulam mo. Penge na din ng sabaw.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;">For most of the people my age, this is an all-too common phenomenon. Thankfully, I've been raised the semi-Chinese way, and that entails making damn sure I regulate my meager allowance. I couldn't just ask for party money from my parents. If what I was getting wasn't enough, it was my job to make sure it is. I used to hate it, but I realize it's an important part of knowing the value of money. My spending habits are thankfully, for the most part, under control. Just don't take me to the mall on a payday when there's a sale.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: red;">Bottom line: Here ends your foolish assumptions that your parents are simply cheapskates. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>-You do not have the right to be an irresponsible jackass.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">You know how when you were little, and you thought that most adults were boring? All they did was work and do groceries and fix the budget and do other mind numbingly-boring stuff? Well guess what, you're not too far from that! As a yuppie, sure, you have the energy and freedom to still maintain a somewhat normal social life. But if you're someone who truly values their career, chances are your work will constantly be eating larger and larger amounts of your time. </span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://curezone.com/upload/Blogs/Zoebess/groceries.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://curezone.com/upload/Blogs/Zoebess/groceries.jpg" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">A typical highlight of the week: "I saved 500 bucks on the groceries!" Yay!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Now I can't speak for myself, since I have a lousy job that I know won't take me places. But I'm speaking of the general state of things here. For example: If you want to get drunk on a Tuesday night, go ahead. However, you are still expected to show up to work the next day. Or if you don't feel like going to work, then be prepared to have more work waiting for you the next day. Oh and just to make things more fun, if you do not call in and have it considered as a leave, say goodbye to the money you could've earned if you weren't such a lazy bum.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: red;">Bottomline: There's a reason grown-ass men love to sing about living "young, and wild, and free."</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b> </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>-You will realize how completely immature and naive you were just a year or two ago.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">When you were in college, most of you probably thought you got your whole life just planned out and gift-wrapped for you. Or even if you didn't (which I was) you at least thought you knew the general direction you would undertake. But then life, being the sadistic kill-joy that it is, will all too often throw a curve ball on your smug, beaming face. See it all starts when you're not amongst the so-called achievers. You know that type. Those workaholic busy bees, who seem to get off on making their school life as not fun as can be. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://greenobles.com/data_images/n.e.r.d/n.e.r.d-02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://greenobles.com/data_images/n.e.r.d/n.e.r.d-02.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Be nice to him, he might be your boss some day.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;">In the real world, you will find out just how many people are competing for the few good jobs. Heck, unless you are an uber-talented savant in your profession, chances are, your company will be more than happy to chuck you out along with the trash. This ain't school, where you pay tuition to feel special. This is work, where you get paid to make your superiors (and the company) look special. Hurray to chasing your dreams. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">It's not that I don't believe in my abilities (and nor should you) but the fact of the matter is that statistic do not favor us. For every successful guy in a batch of graduates, there are at least 5 others who would wind up doing work that is not in their chosen field. Why? Because there is a saturation on nearly every conceivable modern industry. So they end up taking crappy jobs. Every year more and more kids graduate, but the old geezers at the retiring age don't follow the same expected path of progression. For every unsatisfied yuppie out there, there are plenty of desperate bums just waiting to take your place, all of whom are without your self-privileged desire to do better in an infinitely more rewarding workplace.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Bottomline: To shamelessly quote one of my favorite movies: <u><i>"You
are not a beautiful and unique snowflake. You are the same decaying
organic matter as everyone else, and we are all part of the same compost
pile.</i></u><i>"</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="color: black;">-You will realize that a re-assessment of priorities is in order. Or at least, that's the case for most disgruntled youngsters</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">Let's get things straight. If you know in your heart that the rat race is not for you from the start, then don't even bother joining. But what are you going to do, keep relying on your parents? Ewww, shame on you if you even considered that. How about a business? Seems like a great idea! Until you find out that most businesses close within a year. And that those that don't usually do the next year. So what's a guy stuck in a horrible situation to do? Well there's two things. Endure and find comfort in knowing you are, at the very least, not trading sex for a hot meal. Or, dare to be idealistic and confident in yourself and your capacity to rise above the stumbling blocks that life has placed your way. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">Time to re-assess your priorities people. I can't really blame those who are stuck with dead-end jobs for not venturing out of their cages. They may be imprisoned, but at least it's warm and guarantees meals. But like any prison, you will be figuratively butt-fucked when you least expect it.</span></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://sp9.fotolog.com/photo/57/38/82/yecalin/1225688146271_f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="http://sp9.fotolog.com/photo/57/38/82/yecalin/1225688146271_f.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Still better than a real prison, though. Trust me, you do not want this guy as your cell-mate.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">Or you could attempt breaking out. But it's terrifying. It requires planning and a concerted effort; but remember, freedom isn't free. And if you are successful at breaking out, it will all have been worth it. I for one, choose the latter. I'm at a point in my life where I still believe in a world waiting for me, and I'll be damned if I allow myself into a life sentence of depression and unfulfillment just because I am afraid of starting over. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">Thing is, everyone tries to romaticize failure, saying it was a necessary step in their eventual success. Now that may be true, (e.g. Steve Jobs, J.K. Rowling, Col. Sanders, etc.) but that doesn't mean it won't suck. It just means that all those suckiness you will inevitably endure just makes the payoff all the more sweeter. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">So the question now is: are you willing to reach unbefore experienced depths, all for the chance (no guarantees in life, sonny boy!) to be someone you've always wanted to be?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">I know I am.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Bottomline: Another shameless quote, this time from Zombieland: It's time to nut up or shut up!</span></div>
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noneofusaresafehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520173880650277096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6010721845759224649.post-7394669902346258242012-03-07T00:18:00.000-08:002012-12-13T20:08:57.519-08:00The Illusion of Permanence<div style="text-align: justify;">
Everyone knows that nothing in this world can go on forever. Whether it's dictators, family problems, or Anne Curtis's singing career, the point is that good or bad, everything will eventually run its course and dry up or fade out. It's a sad, sad reality of life, and yet, like death and heartbreaks, everyone seems to forget that at some point, you (assuming you're a normal human being, of course) will encounter it. This is both reassuring and depressing , depending on which way you look at it. Personally, I choose to believe that I can at least manage to prepare myself for the foreseeable events that are sure to occur in my future. The unforeseeable is where things get tricky, and occasionally, horrifying.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqYgYEUtDF2PJQID8qvQQH-l4DkyV6E4j7y186tVcQPT_QnF-hsWamiqeYVxYtQp7WA3GL1RAXjGOJkFQ4kutKusyXGc4rihGpPQ_viPgxJO_bWUIrcLdecNytRfcRzc6g3dqGaGQT9FcZ/s1600/Charice_Pempengco.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqYgYEUtDF2PJQID8qvQQH-l4DkyV6E4j7y186tVcQPT_QnF-hsWamiqeYVxYtQp7WA3GL1RAXjGOJkFQ4kutKusyXGc4rihGpPQ_viPgxJO_bWUIrcLdecNytRfcRzc6g3dqGaGQT9FcZ/s320/Charice_Pempengco.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I constantly pray to never have to see her on the cover of FHM. <b>CONSTANTLY.</b></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Given the volatile and increasingly unpredictable society we live in today, I bring you a few reminders to make sure that you never, ever have to be shocked when things you have been accustomed to go poof (!) and disappear.</div>
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1. When you see one of your old friends/acquaintances sporting a new and improved look, always consider it as "just a phase." (Even when it's really not, and deep inside you're actually jealous)</div>
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2. Be genuinely happy when one of your friends becomes successful (and don't forget to ask for <i>balato</i> while you're at it) </div>
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3. Make an animal sacrifice whenever you survive (or was in the vicinity of) a potentially fatal accident. Chicken will do fine, but rats are also recommended. (Why, you ask? For the glory of Satan of course!)</div>
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4. Punch the wall when you lose a game of poker that you were so sure you were gonna win. In my case, it's usually at Monopoly Deal that I get this urge.</div>
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5. Persuade your friend nicely (or not, depending what kind of jerk you are) to delete that pic taken of you while you were completely wasted. It's a surprise you don't want anyone else to tell stories about 10 years from now.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"></td><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2pep.com/funny%20pics/very%20funny%20hilarious%20strange%20pictures%20cool%20images/33/super_funny_hilarious_worlds%20funniest_pictures_of_so-wasted-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2pep.com/funny%20pics/very%20funny%20hilarious%20strange%20pictures%20cool%20images/33/super_funny_hilarious_worlds%20funniest_pictures_of_so-wasted-3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hey guys, remember that one time you got so drunk, you pissed like a horse</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> in public? Good times.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
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6. On a serious note, never ever, put all of your hard-earned money in an unstable "business. " When things look to good to be true, they usually are. It's a real downer watching people cry because they just lost their life savings and friends to a deal gone bad. The moral is simple: don't be too greedy and always, always have multiple sources of income.</div>
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7. There's a reason tattoo artists advise patrons against getting their bf's/gf's name tattooed on their body. A very, very good reason that should be painfully obvious, but like cigarettes, that reason is often ignored. </div>
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8. No matter how sleek and sexy your brand new gadget is, it will be turned into nothing more than scrap metal in about 5 years. 2, if you're one of those snotty Apple fanboys who can't resist the itch for attention.</div>
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9. On the other end of the spectrum, have some dignity and throw away your hole-infested, bacon-ized pair of 5-year old underwear. </div>
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10. We are very near that moment when Manny Pacquiao will no longer be kicking ass for our blood-frenzied entertainment. Brace yourselves, for when that time comes, we will have an over saturation of him everywhere. If it's bad now, just imagine what will happen in the near future, when we are on the receiving end of his attempts to prove he is an all around entertainer. (However, that's still miles better than to be on the receiving end of his fists)</div>
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11. Play with your pets. Remind them that you still care about them. They only live for so long. You have friends and gadgets, they only have you.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://baramdekidhoop.files.wordpress.com/2010/03/getty_rm_photo_of_boy_playing_with_dog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="217" src="http://baramdekidhoop.files.wordpress.com/2010/03/getty_rm_photo_of_boy_playing_with_dog.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"You only remember me when your Xbox is broken"</td></tr>
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12. Get drunk when you feel like it. You only live for so long. It adds great stories to an otherwise mundane existence. Be careful you don't wind up like the entry at #5 though. You have been warned.</div>
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13. When things don't go your way, take some time off. Assess what went wrong, learn from it and move one. Nothing is permanent, and that includes your self-pitying mood. For an instant boost of warm ,positive vibes, Google images of puppies. Always works for me.</div>
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14. Never spend too much for something you're gonna wear less than once a year. And put a little allowance on the size you're getting, cause chances are, you will get fatter with age. Just saying.</div>
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15. When you're having too much fun, never forget that there's always a price for it. Nothing wrong with living your life, but you just can't live irresponsibly forever. Know your limits, learn to say no if you think it's not a great idea. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bVKf-NGUE_E/TcAEkZZaW4I/AAAAAAAAAjw/d8EXeIXC2_k/Jackass.the.movie.poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bVKf-NGUE_E/TcAEkZZaW4I/AAAAAAAAAjw/d8EXeIXC2_k/Jackass.the.movie.poster.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These guys are the sole exception. </td></tr>
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Well there you have it, a few stupid tips from yours truly. I'd put more, but I am feeling lazy as usual. </div>
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noneofusaresafehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520173880650277096noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6010721845759224649.post-88876332056908468112012-01-08T01:28:00.000-08:002012-12-13T20:09:26.865-08:00The Week After (Post-Holidaze)<div style="text-align: justify;">
After 3 ridiculous months, the Christmas season has finally (depends on who you ask) ended. Thankfully, that means no more difficulty navigating through malls like they're places where a new Guinness World Record is being conducted. No more annoyingly positive and mind-numbingly cheesy Christmas songs and movies. And finally, no more Christmas gift expectations from relatives you see like once a year. (Yeah, I'm a cheapskate)</div>
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But before you take me for some kind of Grinch, let me make it clear that I do love the holidays. After all, it also means cheerful re-unions, glorious food everywhere and most importantly, more cash comes into my wallet. It's the BS that comes with the season that I dislike. It's not fun staying in the FX line for 20 minutes on my way home. I can give more examples, but I don't want to whine here. Like all things in the Philippines, this is just one of the things we have to deal with. This is after all, a country ripe with contradictions. So on a scale of things that I love and hate simultaneously, the Christmas season would be between Manny Pacquiao (and his showbiz career) and cheap booze.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr style="color: blue;"><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://meme.zenfs.com/u/96c5fd7f0452f20e2bada2cc7af118f0d85d0a65.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="229" src="http://meme.zenfs.com/u/96c5fd7f0452f20e2bada2cc7af118f0d85d0a65.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr style="color: blue;"><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looks expensive, but it definitely doesn't taste like it. Still a great buy, though.</td></tr>
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So in light of this post's introduction, I'm making a list of things I've realized both during/after the holiday season's bittersweet conclusion.</div>
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<b>It's really just like any other day in this country, except that the usual money grubbing schemes have been turned up to maximum. </b></div>
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This means everyone's twice as hysterically happy/sincere while "asking for your generous help." Might be a good thing, but tell that to the carolers with the fake smiles on their faces when you drop upon them the soul-crushing words of "<i>pasensya na po</i>." Boom. GG noobs. Also applies to the kids who enter jeepneys, but this time they're bringing <i>ampaos</i>, and some will even sing you a happy song, despite not looking it. I guess I should feel sorry for them, but I can't really find it in myself to give to someone who's obviously in some child-exploiting syndicate. </div>
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<b>It's a really bad time to be a worker in retail shops/malls</b> <b>during this season.</b></div>
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Have you seen how ridiculous the outfits of these guys are just these past few weeks? Security guards with Santa hats are about as much of an insult to common aesthetic decency as the pink and blue paint job we used to have in the city, courtesy of the MMDA. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://i2.listal.com/image/1192754/500full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://i2.listal.com/image/1192754/500full.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue;">It's hard to look tough when you're wearing this</span></td></tr>
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On a positive note, the more uhm, attractive female members of the department store's salespeople look mighty fine. Except for the part when they shout MERRY CHRISTMAS SEEEEER! just 2 feet away from you. And the part when you realize that the amount of makeup they put on seems to be playing a game of who can burn people's eyes more (?) with their outfits. </div>
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<b>Shopping for great food is a freaking quest into Mordor. </b></div>
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One does not simply walk into Excellente Ham's store during December.</div>
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<b>Shopping for clothes isn't a walk in the park either. </b></div>
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Good luck waiting for your turn at the dressing room. In front of you are people who apparently can't read the sign that says, "only 3 items or less may be brought in."</div>
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<b>We've lived off the food we bought for Noche Buena, plus the ones given to us for 5 days.</b></div>
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Seriously, none of us cooked anything in the 5 days following Christmas Eve. I can still feel the ungodly amount I've ingested from time to time. When do I feel it, you ask? Every time I'm dressing up. I'm slowly returning to a pathetic physical condition.</div>
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<b>You realize how much can change in a year</b>.</div>
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Last year I was a graduating student not giving much of a damn where I'm going. Now, I'm a bored yuppie on the verge of quitting a dull job. It's amazing what a few months out in the real world can do for a person. You realize that the cutthroat people in the office you see in the movies are actually real, and infinitely more ridiculous and unbelievably stupid in real life. Oh and last year, I was the one receiving Christmas cash. This time, I'm the one dishing it out. Bah Humbug. </div>
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<b>You look in horror at the damage you've done not just to your body, but to your bank as well. </b></div>
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Well shit, I'm only human. But the best realization I've had through it all is this...</div>
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<b style="color: red;">Everything was well worth it. And I can't wait to do it again next year.</b> </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://drkronner.files.wordpress.com/2011/12/die_hard_christmas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://drkronner.files.wordpress.com/2011/12/die_hard_christmas.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Time to watch the best Christmas movie ever made. F you Macaulay Culkin. </td></tr>
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noneofusaresafehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520173880650277096noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6010721845759224649.post-34231674339357962232011-11-07T23:28:00.000-08:002012-12-13T20:09:48.164-08:00LIVING IN A WORLD OF INKS, PANELS, AND BALLOONS<m:smallfrac m:val="off"> <m:dispdef> <m:lmargin m:val="0"> <m:rmargin m:val="0"> <m:defjc m:val="centerGroup"> <m:wrapindent m:val="1440"> <m:intlim m:val="subSup"> <m:narylim m:val="undOvr"> </m:narylim></m:intlim> </m:wrapindent> </m:defjc></m:rmargin></m:lmargin></m:dispdef></m:smallfrac><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">My first memory of encountering comics started when I was very young, not more than 5 or 6 years old. Being a fan of cartoons, it was no surprise that I would be drawn to the bright pastel colors of the Sunday comics, which was something I looked forward to every week. And so it was that I became a fan of Garfield and Peanuts, and eventually, Calvin and Hobbes. I just loved how all of these series made everyday situations funny and memorable. Thanks to the writers who’ve created these classics, my imagination and vocabulary have been splendid, but alas, my early attempts at creating my own comics have ended with disastrous (and oftentimes laughable) results.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://daisyyellow.squarespace.com/storage/0910artsy-4.jpg?__SQUARESPACE_CACHEVERSION=1257117358039" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="246" src="http://daisyyellow.squarespace.com/storage/0910artsy-4.jpg?__SQUARESPACE_CACHEVERSION=1257117358039" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It looks something like this, but way worse. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Then elementary school came, and with it, the anime craze. No geeky male kid was immune to its charms. Bright colors? Check. Cool (although sometimes recycled) plots? Check. Interesting characters? Hell yes! Sexy female characters in revealing clothes? CHECK, CHECK AND CHECK! (There was only dial-up internet back then, but that’s another blog post) Needless to say, I was hooked. I still recall with a fond sense of nostalgia all the great series I watched that made my boyhood either dull or awesome, depending on how geek-o-phobic you are. Samurai X, Gatekeepers, Dual, Gundam series, Evangelion, Yu-yu Hakusho, and Pokemon, all of these were the constant things on my mind, and little else. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://travizzt.files.wordpress.com/2010/11/anime.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="251" src="http://travizzt.files.wordpress.com/2010/11/anime.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's that crowded in my mind too, except that there's puppies.</td></tr>
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<a name='more'></a><m:smallfrac m:val="off"><m:dispdef><m:lmargin m:val="0"><m:rmargin m:val="0"><m:defjc m:val="centerGroup"><m:wrapindent m:val="1440"><m:intlim m:val="subSup"><m:narylim m:val="undOvr"></m:narylim></m:intlim></m:wrapindent></m:defjc></m:rmargin></m:lmargin></m:dispdef></m:smallfrac><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">However I was not so keen on their manga origins, as I was turned off by the black and white panels, and the reverse order in which you had to read them. Not to mention they were expensive, (English compilations) and if there’s anything I was short of during my childhood, it was money.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">And so, after a long hiatus in the anime world, (due to a series of books you may be familiar with, Harry Potter) I reluctantly watched a Tagalog dubbed episode of Naruto. My expectations were not high at all, considering that at that time, I was in high school, and that I disliked the new art style that was prevalent among new anime series. But as luck would have it, I chanced upon a great episode, one that would sneakily re-unite me with a long lost love for anything Japanese. I forgot how it all happened, but today, I am an avid fan of the series, and I look forward to its weekly release. Thanks to dedicated fans and broadband internet, I can read scan-lated versions of it for free. (yeah, I’m a penny-pinching bastard)</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.weirdspace.dk/Disney/Graphics/ScroogeMcDuck.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.weirdspace.dk/Disney/Graphics/ScroogeMcDuck.gif" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">But I'm not a fan of this guy.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">But one thing I’ve always found a bit tiresome about anime is that despite its originality in storytelling and characters, it can get repetitive and predictable. I call it the Dragonball rule. It’s when they just keep getting stronger new opponents, all in accordance to the protagonist’s rise in strength and ability. If you still don’t understand, then I can’t explain it any clearer. Death Note is probably the nearest example of an exception to the Dragonball rule. I loved these series because it deviated from the usual, “I’m the strongest around, at least until a stronger new psycho arrives to test me, but I’ll still win eventually cause I am the god dang protagonist!” pattern that plagues almost all great Shounen titles.</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"The amount of cash I spend on hair dye and conditioner is proportional to my strength!"</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span> <m:smallfrac m:val="off"> <m:dispdef> <m:lmargin m:val="0"> <m:rmargin m:val="0"> <m:defjc m:val="centerGroup"> <m:wrapindent m:val="1440"> <m:intlim m:val="subSup"> <m:narylim m:val="undOvr"> </m:narylim></m:intlim> </m:wrapindent> </m:defjc></m:rmargin></m:lmargin></m:dispdef></m:smallfrac></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">This pet peeve of mine has not diminished my love for these Japanese titles. It just gave me a reason to look elsewhere for my increasingly maturing comic tastes. And there it was that I discovered that Western comics can be very good. Though I was a fan of Batman and Spider-man, I was never much into superheroes. They were cool yes, but they often lacked the depth and imagination I appreciate so much from their Eastern counterparts. Or at least I thought so, until I discovered the Vertigo line from DC. And by God, was I impressed. It featured mature subject matter that didn’t resort to cheap usage of women and violence. And creativity-wise, I only have two words to respond with: NEIL GAIMAN. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Of course, there are plenty of talented writers at Vertigo, but there is a reason Neil Gaiman stands out amongst them. He is not the best at clever dialogue, nor at creating an exciting conflict, or a clear-moving storyline. But damn, he is incredible in creating characters, and also worlds that ARE characters in themselves. Another strong point of his raw creativity is how he can seamlessly connect different worlds, that seem so simple when you read his work, but will make you go, “how could I not have thought of that?” after some reflection. He is a giant among them, and my love for his work has transcended from his much acclaimed “Sandman” series, into his novels. But this being a post about comics, I would also like to recommend a few other great titles for anyone who’s interested, namely, Preacher, Lucifer, Hellblazer and a surprisingly good local favorite of mine, Trese. </span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmPp0rmb7td9mETvgF8eOtMCecwc-juUICZE9QDpDV0F_Ii5Cy7WoU7XNbqDmYeyPQr7E9eDhkN0jq2JKmhuZ2cfla6FZe4sm0OSWgdcC63UZsddbcPKJHMr9tbRwJxzwzSJbub64S-Hs/s1600/trese+profile.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmPp0rmb7td9mETvgF8eOtMCecwc-juUICZE9QDpDV0F_Ii5Cy7WoU7XNbqDmYeyPQr7E9eDhkN0jq2JKmhuZ2cfla6FZe4sm0OSWgdcC63UZsddbcPKJHMr9tbRwJxzwzSJbub64S-Hs/s320/trese+profile.png" width="154" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You can't be a Pinoy graphic novel fan if you don't know her.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span> <m:smallfrac m:val="off"> <m:dispdef> <m:lmargin m:val="0"> <m:rmargin m:val="0"> <m:defjc m:val="centerGroup"> <m:wrapindent m:val="1440"> <m:intlim m:val="subSup"> <m:narylim m:val="undOvr"> </m:narylim></m:intlim> </m:wrapindent> </m:defjc></m:rmargin></m:lmargin></m:dispdef></m:smallfrac></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I go online a lot, and it was such a pleasant surprise to find out that one of my favorite websites, Cracked.com has a writer who made his own composite comics. Ridiculously funny ones at that. Forget about other “comedic” comics like Beetle Bailey, Hagar the Horrible, Dilbert, and locally, Pugad Baboy, Seanbaby’s “Man-Comics” makes every one of them read like those harmless, cheesy Gospel comics they give out at Catholic school. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Reading them has given me a somewhat altered sense of humor, as it is a downright mystery how the hell he comes up with all the stupidly funny stuff that is present on every panel and word balloon in each issue of Man-Comics. I always end up short on air and abundant in body aches after reading each issue, which could mean all the testosterone he claims are within each release are rubbing off not too well on me, or I’m just hopelessly clumsy and laugh too easily. Whatever it is, it gives me the goose bumps whenever I see that the Cracked homepage has a new edition of Man-Comics. And I do not get the goosebumps easily, as they only appear when there is an incredible plot twist in a book or movie, or when I’m having a particularly hard time ejecting last night’s Persian food out of my system. </span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the "before" pic. The "after" is just as lovely.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I’ll end this post with the image on that last sentence. Happy reading!</span></div>
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noneofusaresafehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520173880650277096noreply@blogger.com0