Beautiful Music

Gacked this from steady_lang. One of the more interesting memes around. I'm tagging anyone and everyone who reads this!

1. Go here. The first random Wikipedia article you get is the name of your band.


2. Go here. The last four words of the very last quote of the page is the title of your first album.
   
   If you want to do this again, you'll hit refresh to generate new quotes, because clicking the quotes link again will just give you the same quotes over and over again.


3. Go here. Third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.


4. Go here. The first ten links you end up in (minus the .coms) are your 10 song titles.

"When You Love Them," by Asturian Language

Our track list:

1. Reach the Sky


2. Offensief


3. Dave Swim


4. HSE Info


5. Union of Concerned Scientists


6. Fair Economy


7. Tao


8. Cherry Harbor


9. Voided Warranty


10. Healthy Skepticism

Progressive Weirdness

This week's theme seems to be "Things Getting Progressively Weirder." Both Hono'o-chan and my boss, Ms. Grace, noticed it. The week kicked off in a relatively normal fashion last Monday. Ms. Grace and I attended this Recruitment event thing at Shangri-La Makati in the afternoon, which was more of an excuse to leave the office early.

Tuesday and maybe three-quarters of Wednesday happened to pass by smoothly, but come Thursday morning, Ms. Grace told us that someone tried to break into their home in Cubao in the middle of the night. They heard a crash and dogs barking, and fortunately, somebody got up in time so no one was hurt. They didn't see who the culprit was, however, so they weren't able to do much.

Clearly I was mistaken, thinking that was the end of that. Friday early morning, around 4:00am at the Boni house, Hono'o-chan woke me up in a panic. Someone threw a rock into their room, shattering the glass windows. Good thing Hono'o-chan was napping downstairs when it happened. It could have been done for whatever reason -- I couldn't care less, to be honest -- but it was just plain moronic. Considering the kind of people residing behind the compound, how can anyone be surprised, really? You know... the kind of neighborhood where people are almost always drunk (or at least, people who sound like they are), where jologs hip-hop music is constantly blaring from speakers at most hours of the day -- and most hours of the night -- people who your mother make you stay away from.

Honestly, there are a lot of things I want to say, but I'm afraid I might sound more judgmental than I already am, and towards people whom I don't really know. Pero pucha naman kasi. Ibang level na 'to eh. Kung sabihin kong mag-isip naman sana sila, I hope no one takes it against me.

Sigh, anyway, about the only thing we can do that morning was take pictures, so take pictures we did:


The view of the room. That's the rock at the foot of the bed, the glass shard, and bits of glasses on the floor.


One evil-looking shard of glass.


A disturbing image. That's the side where Hono'o-chan usually sleeps! Also, what if it were a child!


The nasty-looking rock.

Birthday Eve

Let's let the photos do the talking this time.


At Tokyo Tokyo in Shangri-La. That's Ron in the background.



Hono'o-chan, making kitchen magic.



Vegetables and roast chicken, recipe adapted from the Barefoot Contessa.



Close up shot of the veggies, with olive oil and herbs.



Chicken! Three words: nom nom nom.

I've Sunk To A New Low

If you see a tall, jumpy guy in Greenhills at about, say, 3pm or 4pm tomorrow, handing out flyers and talking to Muslim store-owners if they can speak Arabic and if they would like to pursue an exciting career in the call center industry, it's probably either me or my officemate, J.

Feel free to say hi or offer a hug, and maybe an assurance that there is a bright future ahead of me. I won't believe you, but a friendly face and a warm hug will always make me feel better. Throw in a donut if you're feeling especially sympathetic.

You Don't Bring Me Anything But Down

And because things have been moving towards another transition, with changes in our daily routine occurring irregularly, I ended up having lunch with you. Normally it would have been fine. I would not have minded. I would not even have thought of it at all. Today, however, was different.

You were talking as you'd always done, and I was listening, although I hadn't noticed this time I was doing so more intently than I should have. I suppose you can say it was the first time I'd ever heard you actually speak. How lonely you sounded beneath the hollow shell of fantasies you'd built around your soft core. What's even sadder, was that I think you couldn't even hear your inner self talking anymore. I was looking at you, words floating out from your mouth and evaporating into the atmosphere mere centimeters from your skin. Everything -- every lie -- was thin and shapeless and empty.

On one hand I wanted to shout at you, try to break through that phantasm blanketing your person. I wanted to claw at you right then and there, hurt you, stab you with the fork in my left hand. "Can you hear yourself talking?!" But I think even if I shouted at the top of my lungs, you wouldn't -- couldn't -- hear me anyway. The walls you'd built were too thick; your life, too numbingly pristine. I stabbed at the lone slice of pork on my plate instead.

On the other hand, I thought of trying a different approach. I would look at you straight in the eye, and tell you in a voice not unlike the low rustle of trees at midnight how, the contrast apparent from your secure and sheltered lifestyle, I live everyday in constant fear of losing my job. How each minute, I force-feed into my mind the thought that I have to, have to, have to survive without having to rely on anyone for anything. How terribly unjust and uncompromising circumstances can be at the most inconvenient of times, and how I only put up with it just because. I wanted you to hear me, hoping it would be a catalyst for your long-overdue introspection.

I did neither. Instead, I let out a long, heavy exhale. I pushed my plate aside, nodded at some long-drawn opinion you had about something or other, bit my lip, and swallowed hard. I felt a solid, metallic clunk at the pit of my stomach. I'm not having lunch here tomorrow.

The Day The World Made Sense

Despite the fact that I had to wake up at 6 in the morning to get to the office early to pick up the check for my cash loan, the day turned out pretty well. Thank the gods for Vacation Leaves. It's a good thing I expected the worst regarding renewing my NBI Clearance. There was a long queue when I got to Park Square Makati at around 11, but it wasn't so bad. Gave me time to finish reading a couple of stories from Haruki Murakami's Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman -- a book that's taken longer than usual for me to finish reading. After the people over at the renewal booth confirmed my squeaky clean record once again, I sauntered over to the bank where I was supposed to have my check encashed -- a couple of blocks from Greenbelt -- and waited about 40 minutes (or another Blind Willow story) to get everything done.

By 1, I was practically free. I was thinking whether I should still report for work, even if it would only count as half a day, or if I should go to the Makati house for a visit instead. I walked around the park along Gamboa, and maybe it was the way the afternoon sun streamed through the trees and the nostalgia it washed me with, but it didn't take long for me to make a decision. I called up my boss and asked her if I could take the rest of the day off.

I stayed at the Makati house for the rest of the afternoon, helping Josh with his homework and teaching him how to write his g's and e's properly. Napped for about an hour until 5, which was when my mother got home. We talked for a bit, then had an early dinner. Left at around 6 with promises of going back on Saturday, then decided to walk around Greenbelt again and browse around Powerbooks first before heading to the Boni house.

Right now I'm resting and doing my dailies online. I have never felt this good in such a long time. I hope the Universe realizes I'm not asking for much. Just more days like this, please, and I will be very grateful.

Long, Slow Slide

Outside your window the circus crackles
and lurches with rings of smoke.
You laugh halfheartedly at the punchline
not realizing they've made you the joke.
Inside my heart a war is raging
in regions still untamed.
The worst fear I can imagine
is for the mystery to be named.

A Long Slow Slide, Jewel

Sunday afternoon, cats are all sleeping, and the Bunniez are out. I'm in the middle of a long weekend, and no plans have been shaping up as of yet. First two weeks of semi-independence have taken off smoothly, work still keeps people viciously high-strung, but the routinary activity can be somewhat comforting.

In a couple of weeks, I will be in my early late twenties. Probably the most useful philosophy I have learned thus far is to just let everything slide into place, and not resist so much. I think I have said "that's fine with me" often enough these past few years that where I am now has become a sum of benign apathy and pacifism.

I am not particularly sad, nor am I happy; I've found that both emotions have become quite tedious -- sometimes even terribly cumbersome -- that it's better just to settle for a snug, quiet place in the emotional middle.

Anyway, I might be sleeping in a bit. Maybe finish this book I've been reading for a couple of weeks now. Tonight, I might go out for dinner. It's a long, slow slide down, but that's fine with me.

Nesting

So it's my 3rd night with the Bunniez, and, except for the occasional cat hair on my dark-coloured clothes, things have been going really well. My books remain unpacked, as I still do not know where to store them. I'm still sleeping on a small mat and I only have one small pillow, but I've been waking up feeling well-rested, so I don't really mind the minimalist set-up. This weekend, I plan on getting a nice, wide bed, a couple more pillows, a blankie, and a shelf for my books. Hopefully, the room will have a semblance of personality by Sunday.

Also, I might be bringing my computer with me. I originally planned on leaving it at the Makati house since my brother might need it for his thesis this semester, but after five days of being apart, I couldn't bear not having it with me. To be honest, I feel more grounded when I know my computer is nearby.

Right now I'm just posting a quick update while I'm waiting for the kittens to leave my room. They're adorable, and I can't help gushing when I see them -- Smarmy most of all -- but not when they're laying claim on my mat, and at a time when I'm really, really sleepy. I'm trying one tactic now. Leave Kittens Alone. Looks like it's working since I don't hear them in my room anymore. Go me!

In other news, I was in Baguio again last weekend! I have pikachures to narrate the whole misadventure, but I'll reserve that when me and my PC are reunited.

In the meantime, I sleep. :-)

Gossip Girl Wisdom

"If I've learned anything in life, it is that sometimes things get in your path, and you have a choice: you can either smash right into them; or you can adjust, and move around -- but you have to do one or the other in order to move forward." (Lily van der Woodsen)

While I would like to think that I've done nothing but adjust and move around the labyrinthian events my life has gotten itself mercilessly molded into, I fear I have done more wall-smashing than I am comfortable to admit. To be honest, after the first few times, one finds it surprisingly easier and easier to do. Of course, it does leave a trail of bloody carnage along the way, but there are times we are blinded -- through no fault of our own, some of them -- and we forget, and there is nothing else but the thought of the end justifying every means possible to get out and escape, leading to more guilt and more anger than we started with much further after.

I'm crossing my fingers the Universe lends me enough strength, and end the cycle of smashing here.

Power Play

My boss was smiling ear to ear as he approached my workstation. It was unsettling the way it made his usually stern and serious face into something... else.

Two weeks ago, I was talking with a newly-hired person about his pre-employment requirements when my boss opened the door to the meeting room and, with a voice both clear and imposing, he said, "We're getting [Distance Learning applicant whom Program Manager rejected]."

I was stunned. "But [Manager] rejected --"

"We're overriding that decision," and then he shut the door.

Wow, I mouthed. Such power. Such... reiatsu. It made the hair at the back of my neck stand and prickle. I think the new-hire spent a whole minute trying to call me back to the waking world.

So, knowing how much power the person standing on the other side of the cubicle wall has, one has to wonder what could lie behind that person's eerie smile. My mind raced. Because of my stellar performance and working above and beyond the call of duty, I will be given a well-deserved 6-digit raise? Instead of having just weekends off, I can report to work anytime I like?

"Pii... ?"

They suddenly realized I live in Makati and they're giving me a car, AND they're throwing in a cute driver to motivate me to go to work everyday?

"... can you..."

They have seen the light, accepting the error in their ways, and they are scrapping the recruitment effort for Distance Learning? I shifted in my seat uncomfortably and bit my lip to suppress an impending chuckle.

"... report for work tomorrow?"

The chuckle stopped halfway up my throat. "Wh -- cough -- at?" And then, "I mean, what, sir? I mean, sure, OK, sir."

"We need HR coverage during holidays. You know how it is." There's that smile again. Nevermore will I be deceived. "Thanks, Pii."

And so it was, I shall be laboring on Labor Day.