She is coming over tonight but what with the border guards and the road between the Thai-Cambodian border and me she is probably stuck somewhere who knows. Besides, she is staying in some other hotel. Not in my hotel. Bummer.

Sam, she got the package you sent from Curacao. Thank you. I will be forever in your debt now. Literally.

Sorry folks I'm using the blog as some sort of a message board to everyone. I can't easily access yahoo in this part of the country (I really don't know for the rest of the country, but what the heck) so there. I can't get gmail to work on this pc either. This pc's browser don't support gmail. Blah blah blah.

It's been a mindsucking day of plenary discussions and tomorrow would be another mindsucking day with another set of plenary discussions. The only huge difference would be that she would be there to witness how mindsucking plenary discussions could get.

I promise I will act accordingly (read: in consideration to Thai and Cambodian culture) and not let anyone in on the fact that we are a couple. I will soon be adept at this sort of thing. You know, the calm collected Asian mein. Sort of.

Ohfuck.

A quick hello

from Cambodia. In Siem Reap to be exact. First night here, so there's not much to tell as of yet except that Cambodian food tastes a lot like Thai food. And yes, I have internet access. Yipee! Girlfriend ain't here yet. She is back in Bangkok, ironing clothes. Her clothes, people. Her clothes. Will meet up with her after the conference so we can go sightseeing in Angkor Wat. I haven't done any googling on Angkor Wat yet, so I don't know what's in there. No, please don't enlighten me. I would like to be amazed.

Bangkok for all its traffic and pollution and its unbelievable consumerism, is lovely when spent in bed reading lovenotes and laughing at the wonder of us, being together, at last.

Traffic

I had wanted to write something about site traffic and the sad state of affairs in mine but I just realized in time that that would be so pathetic. So much like the time when I was about 6 years old and the older children in my neighborhood preferred to play with my younger sister. They would play this crazy game of tossing the pingpong ball back and forth, and my sister (she who never cried when she was a baby) would inevitably be invited to join, while I, lonely and wanting to fit in but too proud to ask to join in the game, would sit on the sidewalk and watch that pingpong ball, go back and forth, back and forth. The next day, the older children in our street and my sister would play the same game. Then the next. On the fourth day, they played the same game with the pingpong ball and I was sitting in the same fucking sidewalk, which is actually in front of our house. So there I was, just sitting. And watching. That white ball became the focus of my life at 6 years old. I measured my breathing by the number of times it goes back and forth, from the hands of an older, therefore the coolest, kid to the clumsy small hands of my sister. Then all of a sudden, something gave, broke the spell. My sister wasn't able to catch the ball and the ball fell and rolled on the street towards me! The older (hateful) kid was quick to run after the ball. But I had quicker reflexes and I grabbed that ball and threw it inside the garage of our house calling at the same time our german shepherd dog and that dog (I loved him with all my heart, in that instant) grabbed the ball I threw at him between his teeth and chomped on it. The look on that kid's face was worth all the pain of proudly sitting in that sidewalk and being not accepted as cool enough.

After that incidence, I lost all desires to be accepted by the cooler, older kids.

I will be leaving in 3.5 days for Thailand. I am going to feverishly beat the deadlines set for the conference paper I am supposed to bring to Thailand. Then I will be back on the 23rd, with the love of my life. Site traffic can go to hell, for all I care.

True Blue Geeks

When two people are having a conversation on the phone at 7:30 in the morning and the talk took a sudden turn to pc notebooks and in the middle of "c****** mobile technololgy, processor speed should be at least 1.5 Ghz, 512 DDR SDRAM, must have an integrated dvd-cdrw combo, and must not weigh more than 2 kilograms" one of them begins to feel hot and starts, um, w*nking, then one of them is certainly a true-blue, royal-blood geek.

Guess who was the geek?

Seven Sisters

m45_the pleiades,
originally uploaded by kfv.

They are called Halcyone, Asterope, Celaeno, Electra, Maia, Merope and Taygete.

Sometimes, it is better to watch the stars and look for clusters than deal with earthy things. Like love. Like jealousy. Like irritation.

Tuesday

Today got better when I took a peek at Natalie's (or her Alter-Ego's, Augustine) blog. I've always been a sucker for spontaneous art. I particularly like her choice of colors and the emphatic way she has with her brushes (photoshop or real ones). Go see her work.

Tuesday

How to fuck up my day:

Nag
Nag
Nag

Haha!

Would you rather:
1. be able to speak four languages fluently OR be an expert plumber, electrician, and contractor? I would like to be an expert lumber, electrician, contractor AND inventor of the first orgasmeter
   
2. never know your real parents OR find out one of your parents is an escaped convict? To have one of my parents an escaped convict sounds like some soap opera on tv.
   
3. get stopped by every red light when driving OR always have to pick out a wedgie? Um. that's a tough one. Red light, of course.
   
4. have hair grow on your tongue OR warts on your nose? Jesus H. Christ...! Hair, I guess. It would be interesting when I use the tongue on someone.
   

I've always known I'm a genius, but people are so dumb to realize that.

I am a logical-mathematical thinker according to a quiz I swiped from Christy's blog.

So how does a logical-mathematical, um, think? Well apparently, I like to understand patterns and relationships between objects or actions. I also try to understand the world in terms of causes and effects. Um, yeah. Whatever.

I am good at thinking critically, and solving problems creatively. And like the logical-mathematical thinker, Leonardo da Vinci, I'd rather base theories on evidence rather than speculation. Eh?

Other Logical-Mathematical Thinkers include Isaac Newton, Archimedes, Albert Einstein. Damn, I'm in good company.

Careers which suit the logical-mathematical thinkers include
physicist, chemist, biologist, lawyer, computer programmer, engineer, inventor. Oh yeah, I would like to invent the world's first orgasmeter.

12:59am

"I make myself sad."

Geesus. What kind of crap is that?

Well, the kind of crap I spew at 1-fucking-a.m.

The Bailey's didn't help.
Reading a medical book on thyroid balance didn't help.
Staring at black ants invading my bowl of pickles didn't help.

It's 1 am already and I need to sleep. Instead I'm blogging about it.

Ohfuckit.

Psst.

Opinions are needed. If you are an avid kfv's notes visitor, you would notice that I've put up two different photo sites: Secretwalk Fotoblog and Photo Gallery. Which of the two do you like better? Personally I like the Photo Gallery hosted by Flickr because of the badge (that cute thumbnail between View My Complete Profile and Fotoblog headers). But hey, I like reaffirmation of my tastes. So go reaffirm. Or not, as the case maybe.

On a completely different note, I'm going to miss a good friend and colleague when he leaves the country and go home to his own country. Looking forward to your new blog entries as you adjust to the familiar-but-sometimes-forgotten climate of your country.

I've also discovered 2 new interesting and beautifully-made blogs, one is the blogsite of an artist's cartoon alter-ego, and that of a queen bee.

God. I. Am. So. Bored.

You are Dill the Dog - you are bubbling cauldron of
enthusiasm so much so that you sometimes forget
social convention and sport a dodgy hairstyle.


Which Herb are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

birthday greetings and what-nots

From the inimitable Sam Pieter a.k.a. Espee, who invariably makes me feel like I'm a chore to be done, this signature birthday message:

eSPee (02:48 AM) :
OMG WTF BBQ - Yesterday was your BIRTHDAY
eSPee (02:48 AM) :
Congrats!
eSPee (02:48 AM) :
I kiss you
eSPee (02:48 AM) :
and congratulate you
eSPee (02:48 AM) :
and wish you happiness luck good health for many many years to come
eSPee (02:48 AM) :
there.

I hope he realizes that if I live long enough, he would have to remember to call me, email me, im me, or send me packages every year for my birthday, for the rest of his unsenile life. Geesh. I could just imagine what he would send me when he hits senility.

And from the lovely Reckless Writer, an e-card. I sure hope that I won't have tapioca years nor turn into some sort of comfort food that is bland and lumpy. Gad. That image is so fucking vivid.

Birthday girl me

Checklist of things-to-do today:

• Put up on the wall the Messier Catalog at a Glance poster Sam sent me last summer.
• Cook something out of a grocery list and a recipe page the sister-in-law gave me, in the hopes that I will learn to cook at least one dish without botching it.
  
• Try on the handwoven bag with elephant figures on it from Isan province, Thailand.
• Clean the bathroom. Hair will plug the pluggables on the bathroom floor. Seriously.
• Ogle at the photos the gf sent for the birthday. Sorry, nothing remotely naked on them.
• Go visit the sister and the nephews and watch Cartoon Network with them.
• Drink Bailey's straight from the bottle.
  
• Finish reading Pegasus in Space by Anne McCaffrey. Noo, I'm not a slow reader. I just don't have time to finish 371-paged hardbound book in one sitting.
• Take a shower and shave. Brush and floss the teeth, while you're at it.
  

Hmm. Poster on the wall, check. Bag fits across the body? check. Ogle pictures, check, check, check, check. Hmm... Thirteen hours and 6 minutes more to go until November 14.

The alignment of stars on the day I was born. 

Horrorscopes

I am a Scorpio.
(Also known as "Scorpion")
My Horroscope starts like this:
" Scorpios are highly dangerous, even at a distance. They cheat and lie, live for intrigue, and take pleasure in destroying.

Pathological sadists and masochists simultaneously, they will not find any means too low or dishonorable if it can aid in reaching their goals.

Going to great lengths, they will strive to create a positive image of themselves, just so they can backstab an opponent when he least expects it.

Their career is built on the bodies of their more scrupulous victims. If a Scorpio just told you how much she values your friendship, be certain she has already ratted you out to the boss in an attempt to curry favor.

Scorpios are famous for their affinity to dirty jokes and cheap porno movies. They will spread rumors about their sexual conquests, cruelly smearing anyone unlucky enough to be involved with them." (Find yours)

and ta-da!

She is a Capricorn.
(Also known as "Goat")
My Horroscope starts like this:
" Cruel, cold and heartless, the Capricorn has all the warmth of an iceberg in January. She is a tyrant at work and an inquisitor at home.

A Capricorn sees picking on others as one of the major reasons for her existence. She will get worked up over minor infractions, and is completely devoid of sense of humor. It is not uncommon for a Capricorn to be abusive towards her (his) significant other, be it a spouse or a best friend.

Capricorns will back down only if faced with a threat of physical force, or intense psychological pressure.

Intellectually primitive, lacking any semblance of imagination, she is nevertheless vengeful to the extreme - the word "forgiveness" is not in her vocabulary.

Capricorns posess the rare combination of delusions of greatness and low self esteem - all with minimal mental capacity. This is why so many are found among upper and middle management." (Find yours)

Crazy and scary. Perfect combination, don't you think? This is the reason why we don't believe in horoscopes, but find great amusement in it, nevertheless.

Quickie

Taking a break from writing a numbered (eyes rolling) narrative report. As usual, reading other people's blogs sourced out from other bloggers. I am counting on being amused.

Life Rate

In one of those interminable online quizzes done at 1AM, before heading off to bed, about rating one's life, this is the rate I got. The rate entails lots of cussing, going all the way, and having been in a bloody fight.

Now that should me give the license to go out and have some really serious fun.

1st Year Blog Anniversary

In a few days, it's going to be a year of blogging. Now, I shall regale (read: forcibly make you read) you with my favorite posts:

i am at that convergence zone between rediscovering everything and intellectual dreariness. its like im on the edge of a cliff, waiting for more

I once had a lively discussion with a friend on circumcision, although he prefers to call it 'human genitalia mutilation' and then he more

Random thoughts on
how to love beyond
culture, biases, bigotry more

According to general relativity, the presence of any massive object bends the time-space fabric more

"Pools of sorrow waves of joy
Are drifting through my open mind
Possessing and caressing me..." more

8. Assure me that, eventhough old people don't have sex, we are not that kind of people therefore we will have great sex even if we are 80. Dryness is not an excuse. Lubes are sold by the barrel. more

Then going to the dentist's for the regular cleaning which is one of the things I never fail to do because I have an addiction to the antiseptic smell of rubber gloves more

Why I like the commenting system sooo damn much

"I always wondered how many years 'perfect' lasts."

I think I'm going to find out soon enough. But is "perfection" what I really want, I ask myself. Or is it just a fantasy I want to delude myself with? In any case, here's what I do: as much as possible, as soon as possible, I want to strip everything of of their seeming "perfectness"--that way, I won't be as disappointed as I would be if I keep holding on to the image of perfection I have of the persons I'm intimately involved with or of the relationshops I am having with them. I think that drives them crazy. Her, in particular. Oh well.

***

Last time I weighed myself I tipped (barely) the scales at 42 kgs. My mission is to gain at least 5 kgs. I eat and eat and eat and still nothing. I hate being skinny.

***

I do the comics section first. Then the lurid details in the entertainment/showbusiness pages. Then the ad pages for my sinful consumerist side. Then the front pages. I don't read everything, only the goriest, grossiest ones. Usually the news with someone's head being cut off with knives. Or the one with the guy so desperate he held his own kid hostage, went atop a flyover, then jumped into the busy street below. With the kid in his arms.

***

And I got Kyan the Grooming Guru. Aha. How predictable my taste in men is. But as you know me, as much as you can know me virtually, C, I am anything but predictable.

***

"The world waits with bated breath."

I am not.

***

I am this

You are starch. You are rigid, opinionated, hard-willed and not too friendly about it. You keep people out of places, or you keep them in, and without you a lot of things would collapse. Hopefully you will never have the authority to burn people at the stake. Sir. Ma'am.

where is the fucking torch?!!! need to torch some more cats.

***

Not this girl I told my secrets to. Secrets that would certainly put me in one of the rungs in Dante's hell (if there is such a thing). I told her THE secrets, deadpan. She took it in, without even blinking an eye. Though we had great fun after that... Hmm. Should that tell me something?

***

I absolutely stand by Firefox. I may not stand for many things, but Firefox, I will crawl cactus beds for... But that's not standing, is it?

***

Sleep? What the hell is that? Does it taste like Vochelle Dark Chocolate with Almonds?

***

Just had Osso Buco and so full my brain's half asleep. By the way, I did the quiz again and look at what I am tonight

You are mRNA. You're brilliant, full of important, interesting information and you're a great friend to the people you care about. You may have sides to you that no one understands. But while you understand more than most people, you're only half-there most of the time.

Haha. "Only half-there most of the time." How true.

***

I wish I can do it like you do, actually announce "I'm going on weeklong blog vacation!" and have something to show for it. Me, when I announce I'm going to have a blog vacation, it is redundant since I seem to have more blogless days than a day with a blog-entry.

And did you read what Scorpio IIIs are? I am charming! Hahaha! That was the best joke ever.

***

Nope, they don't shatter. But things are never quite the same again. Different like they are no longer in the phonebook or when you see them in the street you look at them and you feel that you should know them but couldn't quite place them. It's only much much later, when you realized that she was your best friend for 18 years before you dropped her.

***

You listened to Korn when you were in college? GAD. You are young. The ideal place for me was the school cafeteria. The noise is in ideal decibel level for me to be able to concentrate on integral and differential calculus problems. It worked: I got the hightest possible grades in my calculus courses. I think the only use I got out of getting the highest grade in calculus is that I would be able to comment in your site that I got the highest possible grade in calculus.

***

50,000 words that has to do with fucking?

***

Secrets I've kept for most of my life because I was ashamed of them... Things I saw, did or was done to me. Things that are way too deep in the deepest of secrets...Anyway, I told them to this wonderful person who is so present in my life right now and she still loves me. There is no scaring away that girl.

***

Oh wow.

***

I've managed to earn a degree in shopping. I go to the store, knowing what size I need, what shade of white I want, and the amount I'm willing to spend. Then, when the store don't have what I want, I ask the storepeople, When do you think your next stock of such-and-such will come in? But buying a thong for the gf confounded me. She is American and she is not petite. The fucking store don't have the hot pink thongs I want in her size! Anyway, she thought it was sweet of me but really, she is not into that kind of lingerie.

***

Not unlike good sex. Good sex is dirty. If it's not dirty, it's not good.

***

Um.

***

And that was just for October.

Attention

I have two girl's names here

Amariyah
Nadezhda

I need boy's names.
This is just in case, you know.

Me crossing fingers.

Pictures from sunny Curacao

This is Pascal. The firstborn. He looks like his mother and a natural ham like his father. He is my first and only innocent love. But since I am already taken, I made a contract with his father that my future daughter will marry Pascal. I once sent him a birthday card and he went around the house with the card in his pocket. I think that was also the time his father is supposed to have given him a frog, but Sam doesn't remember that. In any case, I think the frog would have made an ubercool gift.

His name is Brent. Sam and Tamara's second son. Sam's internet friends were online when Tamara, the midwife and Sam were coaxing Brent to please come out now, the whole world is waiting and getting impatient and we don't want to disappoint the whole lot of them. In the meanwhile, the internet friends were making bets on whether he was going to be a boy or a girl. When Brent finally decided that he made us all wait long enough, well, his newly-born pictures and videos made the internet headlines. That hat is meant to hide his mohawk hair he was born with. And we all agreed already that this one's going to be a heartbreaker.

Pictures Sam took of the moon the other night. Perfectly lovely. The moon and the man. 

Just got in

One falls in love then suddenly finds out that there are a lot of pettiness and insecurities residing inside one's self. I am, of course, speaking only for myself.

Going to sleep for the next 12 hours now.

I'm going to concentrate on work. Finally.

Going to be without internet access in the next few days. Will miss reading your blogs, googling, clicking close all those pornographic pop-ups and the pop-ups that will reset my pc's time. Oh yes, I will miss all that.

And yes, tomorrow night the shaking hands and the chattering teeth and the uncontrollable urge to touchtype on my pillow will start.

Yehey!

I just realized, 999 people have clicked on this site. I think I account for half of that clicks. Hehe. So if you're the 1000th clicker (god, I hope it won't be me) please leave a comment. No reason at all. I just like these kind of trivialities. It's the same way I like to celebrate monthly anniversaries of first dates.

Happy 5th month first-date anniversary!

That is sooo corny.

Analyze this

Oh why can't I just be happy and contented and not over-analyze everything? You know, sit back and say "Look, I am smiling! I am enjoying this."

Because I am a stubborn ass.

Random

Girlfriend's in quandary. She wanted to go to the dinosaur museum in Khon Kaen because the last time I was there we weren't able to and I so wanted to see the dinosaur bones because I'm such a geek that I have this thing going for such obsolete things as bones and Fra Lippo Lippi... Anyway, she wanted to go there and take some pictures of the bones so that she can show off and be able to say: "See? I love you enough to go to some geeky museum even though I'm way too cool for such places. I would have stolen some tailbones for you but that, too, is way too low for a classy act like me." Anyway, the thing is, the locals don't even know (or maybe pretend that they don't know) where the museum is and they are charging a thousand baht to bring her to the museum. That made up our minds. One thousand baht is way too much, even for a chance to show off pictures of wonderful dead prehistoric bones for me. She'll be better off making up for it in some other way.

Now in some other news. I read this blog entry today and deja vu-ish lights suddenly went flashing in my head because I was in that place for more than 3 years. The neurosis and the randomness and the waiting. Oh the fucking waiting. Sam (who by the way needs to update his site) could attest to that since he was and still is the (unwilling) repository of my monologues and angsty emails. Though of late he has been complaining about the slack in the monologues and angsty emails that came his way. I was depressed then. Hence, the inimitable eloquence. Anyway, it was the waiting and the nail biting and the teeth gnashing as well as the pulling of frizzy hair that I can't stand. That and the sudden torturous onslaught of boybands.

Whining

I have been reading lots of new blogs lately, in addition to the regular ones, as well as leaving long and candid comments. I think that kind of sap me of my urge to write my own blog entries. That or I just don't have anything to say. I don't even have the imagination to say wittily that I don't have anything to say. Okay, I am rambling idly now. Going to shut up now.

Ending the short sweet hiatus from blogging

Sipping Bailey's straight on this quiet weekend night. Nothing much to blog about. I'm contented, in a sleepy sort of way. Sleepy and contented, the way only Bailey's can induce. Red wine makes me warm and poetic. Kao lao, Thai sweet rice wine, makes me perky and happy. Vodka makes me lose my inhibition, enough to sing at karaoke bars. Tequilla makes me want to watch Dexter's Laboratory over and over and over again.

Take your pick, honey, which drink you can offer me.

Wisdom In Such Tiny Comic Strips.

We came. We saw. We licked.

Surreal

Someone's death anniversary in a few days. Someone who was very close to me. Someone whose death anniversary I always forget. Always.

No wonder I woke up this morning feeling a strange oppressive heaviness hovering around my head. Like silence expanding. Like silence settling down. Like something telling me Sit down. Wait. Be ready. Couldn't quite shake the feeling off so I sat down on the floor and faced an empty, milk-white colored wall and tried to meditate. To try and figure out what it is that I'm feeling about. Still could not figure it out.

Then someone called me, worried about me. So we chatted for a while and then in our conversation, she said that it might be because I am subconsciously processing all the changes that has been happening in my life lately: falling in love, settling into a new relationship, and the fact that his death anniversary is just around the corner. Aha. That made sense.

Today, two people in the world are going to light 3 candles: one for remembering a dead loved one, one for my life, and another, for my life with the one I love. Cheers.

How to be creative.

To all those whose inner creative child (ishness) is just pleading, just begging to come out, please read him first, before you unleash all that bottled-up creativeness and make us all run for cover from all that stink.

Hah.

Yet another personality test that says I need to use a condom. Please.

No thanks to Christy. Hehe

eXpressive: 9/10
Practical: 5/10
Physical: 8/10
Giver: 4/10

You are an XPYT--Expressive Practical Physical Taker. This makes you a Player.

You are clever, sexy and sexually oriented. You know what you want and how to get it. You command attention in a room of strangers, as your charisma, your personality and your spending habits are all oriented toward making an impression on your target sex. You pay attention to details.

You reel people in easily, but have a harder time keeping them around since you are just as demanding in a long term relationship as you are on a night out. Combine your demanding nature with the fact that you're hard to keep up with and easily bored, and you get a recipe for problems with fidelity.

In a conflict, you're brutal -- you know how to unleash one cutting remark that turns a normal fight into a brawl or a breakup. Your general attitude is you just don't have time for fighting -- if you feel like your current partner doesn't understand you, you know you can find another one.

You may see yourself in a parent and dislike his/her choices, so you want to avoid them for yourself. You feel confined by social pressures, both to pair up and stay paired. It will (and should) take you years to settle (and for you, it may really feel like you're settling).

Please use a condom.

Please use a condom???!? Creepy.

I hate cats. 

Vincent's bedroom in Arles

Thinking of bedrooms and beds. Of tea-sets with hand-carved swallows on them. Of wooden chopsticks that smell like cold early mornings in the mountains. Of redwine-colored silk. Of hazel-colored eyes, warm and happy. Of this evocatively lovely painting.

Christy Says I've Been Unwrapped

At 1AM, or at 3.16AM or at 2.30AM, people are usually 'unwrapped' so to speak. They wake up in the middle of a hazy dream and realize it's 2 o'clock in the morning. These are the hours when the immediate world around you is fast asleep and you have no need to put your mask on. You think thoughts that are either (1) impure; (2) soul-baring; or (3) graphic reminders of what a shithead you've been.

I woke up and I thought all three.

Rock Chick, Episode 3

Today, I am this chick...


Which Rock Chick Are You?
Strangely, I don't feel sassy and wild. Just want to tear up this godawful grey world. Stop the rain already, for sanity's sakes!

Little happy me

I've added two more rofl-hilarious sites in blog world, eurotrash and sarah brown, along with good 'ole dooce. If you think or feel that you are wasting way too much much time on this site, I suggest that you go to eurotrash and sarah brown and dooce. That way, you would get something back from wasting your time.

Bugger

Something's wrong again with the blogger system.
Sigh.
Sigh.
Sigh.
Sigh.

Well what the fuck is it this time?

Kill Bugs

Bugs, insects, ants. They are all meant to be killed. Maimed. Tortured. Then killed slowly and painfully. Nothing will please me more than to hear the zzzt of ants burning to a crisp when I torture them with lit candles. Nothing. Except maybe watching the bugs squirm in agony as one places a drop of mentholated liniment into their pathetic little eyes. Oh yes. I will have the whole week to do just that.

Have a good life, people.

Now to be really nauseatingly corny

Suddenly, obstinate weeds whose flowers are yellow are beautiful. Just because I picked them for somebody and that somebody thinks they are beautiful. I am lost.

Barf bags are on me.

Still happy

Well. Yes. Still. Happy. What can I say, love becomes me. And I'm becoming corny and boring everyday. Not bored. But boring and corny. And all my friends hate my blog entries lately. Darn. I need to get laid.

Postscript: Somebody just told me that I'm a "totally bitchy hot woman" and that it's unbelievable that I'm not getting laid.

I am happy...

...and I really have nothing edgy or witty or sarcastic or even funny to post. I am, simply, quite surprisingly, just happy. It is not my normal mode, the happy mode. My normal mode is grouchy, sarcastic or grim. Rarely happy.

Damn. This world is so fuckingly good.

Rock Chick, Episode 2

Which Rock Chick Are You?
Hmm. I did this test more than two months ago. I did it again in the hopes that I get to be someone real hot like that girl Sam said I should look like. Man, I am consistent.

Who, me? Depressed? Nah. It's just something I do when I want to pretend 'sophistication'.

Finally, text formatting! Now I can change the color of my text like this. Or italicize it like this. Even do a bold thing like that. And. oh. my. god. text fonts! As in now I can use arial or courier or verdana! I even have the choice to make my fonts huge, large, normal, small or tiny! Never thought that 'tiny' can make me go olala with pleasure. Oh happy days are rare. And to have the chance to enhance the text of my posts, never mind that content-wise my blogposts border on the idiotic in its crusade for triviality, is such a treat I can forego great sex for the next 11 months without actually complaining obnoxiously.

And btw, for those who are using the Mozilla Firefox browser, a latest version is in the offing. See? I'm not depressed. I'm being helpful. To which some ungrateful people would respond by running to the forest and would rather be torn limb to limb and chomped on by beasts in plain view of little animal-children than being helped by me.

I Could Use A Better Personality, But Do I Need the 20 Questions?

I guess I do. Or I wouldn't have done this. Or maybe I'm just bored out of my wits and have nothing else better to do.

Wackiness: 28/100
Rationality: 40/100
Constructiveness: 30/100
Leadership: 80/100

You are an SEDL--Sober Emotional Destructive Leader. This makes you a dictator. You prefer to control situations, and lack of control makes you physically sick. You feel have responsibility for everyone's welfare, and that you will be blamed when things go wrong. Things do go wrong, and you take it harder than you should.

You rely on the validation and support of others, but you have a secret distrust for people and distaste for their habits and weaknesses that make you keep your distance from them. This makes you very difficult to be with romantically. Still, a level-headed peacemaker can keep you balanced.

Despite your fierce temper and general hot-bloodedness, you have a soft spot for animals and a surprising passion for the arts. Sometimes you would almost rather live by your wits in the wilderness somewhere, if you could bring your books and your sketchbook.

You also have a strange, undeniable sexiness to you. You may go insane.

I'm not yet insane? Excuse me while I go and get a second opinion.

A Supermodel's Portfolio and (heaven forbid) Insightful Thoughts

"A model's life ain't easy. We must look 100% perfect, 100% of the time. And if we got caught by the cameras in the act of.. um, answering the call of Mother Nature, we must, at all cost, keep on smiling the smile that will launch a thousand toothpaste endorsements." 

"I wish he would hurry up with the camera. I'm getting a crick in my neck." 

"Want a romp in the branch?" 

'Im too sexy for this tree." 

Where Stars Are Born

NASA's Hubble Space Telescope captures the iridescent tapestry of star birth in a neighboring galaxy in this panoramic view of glowing gas, dark dust clouds, and young, hot stars. The star-forming region, catalogued as N11B, lies in the Large Magellanic Cloud (LMC), located only 160,000 light-years from Earth. With its high resolution, the Hubble Space Telescope is able to view details of star formation in the LMC as easily as ground-based telescopes are able to observe stellar formation within our own Milky Way galaxy. (text and image from rednova.com) 

At 2AM

Really, at two o'clock in the morning (2:25 a.m. to be exact) what interesting things could I possibly write about?

after two minutes of introspection

Hmm. I think I have a very boring life. Interesting things happened to me 10 or 12 years ago. But I couldn't remember what they were. Ah yes. A very interesting, life-altering thing happened to me last summer. I should be grateful. Yes, I am grateful. I fell in love.

I remember when I was younger, I was in college, I used to wake up at one o'clock in the morning and go outside of our house and look at the sky. Nothing interesting really, just a weird way of trying to get back to sleep. I used to bring my diary out with me, just in case something brilliant and witty gets written by me. Nothing ever did. All I had to show for the nocturnal mind forages were a couple of doodles which weren't that good in the first place.

I also remember falling in love, twelve summers ago. He had beautiful teeth.

I remember losing my belief in the concept of God at age 15.

I remember my grandmother telling me nonsense things about suns and clouds. They are nonsense now. But when one is 5 years old and don't know any better, everything that a grandmother holds to be true, make sense.

I remember trying to add three and five, when I was 4 years old. That was a traumatic experience. I am still trying to block it out of my memory. In consolation, I have had the highest possible grades in Integral Calculus and Advance Algebra when I got older.

I remember riding a train at age 3 because I was such a bratty papa's girl and he had to bring me with him during his travels because my mother can't stand my tantrums which will last for 8 hours.

I don't remember much before that. But my mother certainly remembered what a difficult child I was.

Well, I'm going to bed now.

Ten Things I Cannot Fathom

1. TV evangelists in shiny fuschia-and-purple suits. With lemon-yellow ties. Yes, I swear this is true.

2. People who can suspend their disbelief indefinitely.

3. People in perpetual state of suspended disbelief who attend (and go epileptic at) evangelical rallies.

4. Miracle-healers.

5. People who can suspend their disbelief indefinitely.

6. People in perpetual state of suspended disbelief who believe that their diseases have been cured by the miracle-healers.

7.The proliferation of TV evangelists and miracle-healers in a 3rd world country like mine. (Okay. So, somebody already explained this to me, in terms of the politics and economics of quasi-religions in a Catholic country like mine. But I need one more point to add to the 10 Things I Cannot Fathom. So there.)

8. The popularity of these TV evangelists and miracle-healers. They are so popular they are on prime-time TV. Along with all the Filipino, Taiwanese and Mexican soap-operas that litter television space.

9. Why cranberry juice is godawfultasting.

10. Why love and technical progress reports do not exactly mesh together.

I'm not yet my usual ascerbic self, so bear with me

A poem from Cubert whose poems can make me laugh. I, who rarely laugh.

You've Got To Love A Girl Who Can Drink A Pint

I see a mate, he's watching me,
Scanning with his eyes...
That pretend aloof,
That look away,
The small laugh as I sigh

One pint down, well through two,
I've been here 30 minutes;
I came to drink and think of you
In the company of strangers.

I hear the smallest mundane talk
And feel the importance of simple pleasures;
I came here seeking a sense of you
And came to understand my treasure.

I listened with your ears,
Tried to see them with your eyes;
These men with talk of cars and beer,
These foreigners stuck in time.

Third pint and I've decided
I'm having a lovely time.

I borrowed this pen from the barkeep,
I wrote this on a coaster;
I felt a sense of agelessness
As I sat here getting older.

I'm caught inside my own dream,
My vague imagining of home;
I couldn't have a better fantasy
That wasn't in your arms.

Slightly pissed and beautiful,
Exchanging lovely smiles;
Indeed, indeed, I see the love
For the girl who can drink a pint.

I've come, I've loved,
I'll come again,
I've uncovered what I needed...
Thanks for the thoughts, the air and flowers,
And the pen to keep my secrets.

Okay, go back to your usual ascerbic self already!

A flying hummingbird fills my desktop. I am so gushy and corny and pictures of flowers and toothless babies bring tears to my eyes. I hope this icky, weirdy mood ends soon. Or else, I will lose whatever friends I have.  

Transcendence

Transcend essence and function. This means that when we are practicing, we do not divide the internal and external. Nor do we discriminate north, south, east, and west. Rather, we take the four quarters and the eight directions and simply transform them all into a great gate to liberation. Clearly, then, essence and function are not divided. As there is not the slightest outflow, the entire body becomes fused into one whole. Where, then, would delusion be able to arise?

- Chinul (1205)

Fishing boats

Van Gogh's painting. I am in love. 

A Random Trick Question

How is an ankle unlike a consequence?

Something to do for you people while I am away and flowing.
The sun will burn out after 5 billion years. I will not take that long.

Dysmenorrhea

The drama queen that resides deep inside of me speaks:

Somebody out there must have created with hate. Someone malicious and faceless diligently studied the configurations and many facets of pain, its weight in gold, the price to pay for the pearl of an egg—carrying the exact replica and maps of this malignancy going round and round the universe, cackling to itself, smug like the old witch of our fairytale nightmares. To feel like a caged animal, bending down to one’s knees—moaning, coldly hating this cyclical, malicious pain. She can’t claw out this barbed wire, festering inside her. She tears out her fur/hair. She hisses at the great black silent universe. Not this. Not this. Not this faceless enemy that can do whatever it wants with impunity. Not this. Not this. Not the groveling for mercy: scraps and spitted out mercy.

Venus kissing the Sun

A most exciting thing. Venus will transit the face of the Sun on June 8. The beginning of the transit will be seen over Philippines, Japan and Australia. Observers in eastern North America, the Caribbean, and most of South America will see only the end of the event after the Sun rises. Too bad, for Dutch astronomers in Curacao, eh.

Observers with a clear sky in eastern New York and New England will see at least 120 minutes of the transit. That number drops to 60 minutes for observers on a line curving from north central Minnesota to northeastern Florida. None of the transit will be visible from the Mountain states or the Pacific Coast.For more information, check out the articles in Astronomy. 

Tickled pink

As you all can see, I've done everything I wanted to do with this site. Well, almost everything. I've decided to do away with the haloscan comments for the meantime. It really is too complicated for a 30-minute site-retouching. Well, everything's here: the mood meter, all the previous links, and even the Mozilla Firefox button.

Oh yeah, I've done away with the sitemeter too. It really is too addicting. Sometimes I spend more time checking out who visited the blog than actually doing some blogging in the site. It is unproductive work. Therefore it must go.

The hair is still crazy-frizzy. The weather is steadily growing grey. But hey, I've retouched the site. That should count for something. Now I can sleep better at night. Concentrate better at work (yeah yeah yeah). Feel a lot better now for giving in to my innermost fetish: pink.

And oh yeah, comments on the way this site looks are very welcome. Please. Don't be polite.

Shit.

I still have to make manual changes in the templates because it seems that the template comes with a comment chastity belt (yes Christy, that conversational piece from your blog got stuck in my brain for some reason) and no one can post a comment on the site unless they have a blogger account. Knowing the people who regularly post comments here, I might as well leave the commenting button off. Which of course I don't want to do, since you all know my pov on the interactiveness of a blog being based mostly on the commenting system

But this will take time and a lot of pulling of frizzy hair and I have no time right now. And can you imagine this, I must figure everything out! Ogad. The way it goes, I might as well go back to the old template.

I need help. Badly.

Waking up at 5.30 in the morning

and i realized that I MUST change this site's looks. Grimly I picked Thisaway Rose. Republished the whole thing. There. Finished. View the blog. Zero comments. Feels like being a newborn baby--naked, fuzzy-haired and really pissed off.

Of course, I took everyone's advise, I kept a copy of the june-skies template. Just in case I want people's comments to fill up my life. But I doubt it if I'd go into that much trouble. People are people, they will soon fill this one up with new, really witty, really funny comments (yes, I am a very optimistic person, bordering on i-can-suspend-my-disbelief-indefinitely type).

Now I must go and swim the hell out of my lethargic and lazy muscles.

Okaaay. So I'm stupid.

Because I can't quite concentrate on work (believe me, I tried), I decided to change this blogsite's looks into something really really garish. Which I was able to do (the new blogger push-button publishing is really designed for idiots, thank you). BUT, I lost all the comments. Now I'm trying to figure out the instructions from Blogger Help (which they forgot to configure for idiots like me) how to change template and retain the comments, to no avail. I couldn't understand a damn thing.

Saffron

Saffron. The scent and the color. 

Be afraid. Be very afraid.

As to my sense of humor, it has been labelled many things: weird, pragmatic, macabre, borderline and non-existent. But this picture of Mr. Bean, the guy I sincerely would like to hit on the head because of his cheekiness, made me laugh out loud.  

Eating ants in Thailand

Ants and ant eggs are not sour. I should know.  

Random readings

All through the loneliness of night I know that I want freedom more than anything else. I would like it shared--sharing separate and equal freedoms with a companion. A companion who would be with me where I now am alone--on trips, walks, at the theatre, or home.

Helen Barolini, Learning to Meditate

My little dinosaur

This is my yet-to-be-christened dinosaur. He doesn't speak English. He is Thai and eats chillies for breakfast.