The Fear of Death and Dying
Terry Schiavo has finally passed away. Thirteen years after suffering a heart attack induced by bulimia, it's over.
Some observations about the situation. The husband did not let her parents in the last ten minutes of her life. Considering that he's been fighting with them for so long now, I don't blame him. Considering that they have done every single legal maneuver to wrest his guardianship of his wife, I don't blame him. He's a little bitter.
A priest on the side of the parents said that the husband was angry and bitter to the end. No shit!? This is what can be so disappointing about priests. All of them are human and they do some amazingly human stuff like say stupid things.
The woman has been in a permanent vegetative state for the last thirteen years. You would think that the parents would have resolved their fear of death now. But nope, nope, nope. They are just as afraid of letting go of their child as at the start. This brings me to hypothesize that perhaps the parents are actually seeing their own death and are running from it because of FEAR.
It is another characteristic of America and Americans. We have this unerring belief that everyone should live forever. That every life is so sacred. We take it personally when people die. Even people who have completed their purpose in this life. I can't say that this has led to bad results. After all, the rate of industrial accidents have gone way down since unions have fought for safe conditions.
But the continuing advances in medicine lead us to situations where people with no brainwaves are still being kept alive by artificial means. I say that if they can not eat or drink water on their own and no brainwaves, they have met the universe in its entirety.
Thursday, March 31, 2005
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
Meet Alfie
A poet. A caregiver. A Pin@y in Canada. Listen to him as he lives his life. Alfie is the Pin@y Blog of the Day for the 30th day of March in the year of the Pin@y 2005.
A poet. A caregiver. A Pin@y in Canada. Listen to him as he lives his life. Alfie is the Pin@y Blog of the Day for the 30th day of March in the year of the Pin@y 2005.
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
Monday, March 28, 2005
Ugly as Sin
A friend of a friend dropped her boyfriend a couple of months ago. In the middle of New York, the boyfriend choked on the proposal. He could not commit. He could not ask the question. He was holding something back.
Since I want things to make sense, I always try to correlate the present to the past. While surfing the net, I found out why the boyfriend could not commit. He wanted to be the next American Idol. That's right, he wanted to be a singer. It is his passion. His singular reason for existence. The rason d 'etre or some French phrase like that.
And because chasing a dream such as being a singer requires tremendous amounts of energy, dedication and not to mention self-delusion, the rooster choked at the moment of his destiny. Now I would not mind this so much if and only if he had a chance in hell of succeeding.
And how do I know whether or not he will succeed? Well, in the music business just like in the movie business, there are some things which must be present for you to be a star. First, you gotta have a voice. No problemo. Our rooster has a voice. Besides with reverb and all that synthesizer bullshit, he sounds like an angelic castrato. Second, you gotta know music. Again, not a problem. The cock has studied music; music is his life. Hell, he doesn't do much else of anything except music. His parents can attest to that. They are still supporting our hero.
The third and the third is where our rooster comes up short. You gotta have looks. As the SO has said, you must be f*ckable by any and all sexes. That means that ladies will not mind doing a one night stand with you. AND, men will consider going gay for one night just to be with you.
Let's get an example. American Idol Rocker Bo Bice is an example of extremely f*ckable. Men and women alike. Hell, I heard that there were some angels and demons waiting for this guy to die just so they could try and bed him. Now with that in mind, if you are going to be a singer, you have to look at yourself in the mirror. Are you high up on the F Index?
Now, if you in blogland have ever met me, you will never mistake me for extremely f*ckable. Nice maybe. One night stand material? Never. Well, the thing is that our rooster is uglier than I am. Now, don't get me wrong, I am ugly. I am a balding middle-aged man with a gut larger than aggage. Ugly. But if you saw our rooster, you would probably have to say that the rooster is uglier than I am. And I'm pretty ugly.
And so, our rooster has now launched his singing career in the bistros and bowels of New Yawk city. He's out there making music. He's got some good beats and rhythms. But once you see him, you won't care about his music. I know, I know. Pretty shallow. Well, I can't help it that the world is shallow. I can only control what I do. That's why I never pursued being a superstar. A super satyr maybe. But never a superstar.
A friend of a friend dropped her boyfriend a couple of months ago. In the middle of New York, the boyfriend choked on the proposal. He could not commit. He could not ask the question. He was holding something back.
Since I want things to make sense, I always try to correlate the present to the past. While surfing the net, I found out why the boyfriend could not commit. He wanted to be the next American Idol. That's right, he wanted to be a singer. It is his passion. His singular reason for existence. The rason d 'etre or some French phrase like that.
And because chasing a dream such as being a singer requires tremendous amounts of energy, dedication and not to mention self-delusion, the rooster choked at the moment of his destiny. Now I would not mind this so much if and only if he had a chance in hell of succeeding.
And how do I know whether or not he will succeed? Well, in the music business just like in the movie business, there are some things which must be present for you to be a star. First, you gotta have a voice. No problemo. Our rooster has a voice. Besides with reverb and all that synthesizer bullshit, he sounds like an angelic castrato. Second, you gotta know music. Again, not a problem. The cock has studied music; music is his life. Hell, he doesn't do much else of anything except music. His parents can attest to that. They are still supporting our hero.
The third and the third is where our rooster comes up short. You gotta have looks. As the SO has said, you must be f*ckable by any and all sexes. That means that ladies will not mind doing a one night stand with you. AND, men will consider going gay for one night just to be with you.
Let's get an example. American Idol Rocker Bo Bice is an example of extremely f*ckable. Men and women alike. Hell, I heard that there were some angels and demons waiting for this guy to die just so they could try and bed him. Now with that in mind, if you are going to be a singer, you have to look at yourself in the mirror. Are you high up on the F Index?
Now, if you in blogland have ever met me, you will never mistake me for extremely f*ckable. Nice maybe. One night stand material? Never. Well, the thing is that our rooster is uglier than I am. Now, don't get me wrong, I am ugly. I am a balding middle-aged man with a gut larger than aggage. Ugly. But if you saw our rooster, you would probably have to say that the rooster is uglier than I am. And I'm pretty ugly.
And so, our rooster has now launched his singing career in the bistros and bowels of New Yawk city. He's out there making music. He's got some good beats and rhythms. But once you see him, you won't care about his music. I know, I know. Pretty shallow. Well, I can't help it that the world is shallow. I can only control what I do. That's why I never pursued being a superstar. A super satyr maybe. But never a superstar.
Saturday, March 26, 2005
I hate the image of God
In one sense, I can understand why Moslems forbid the representation of God in terms of images. How can the human mind ever encapsulate the grandness of God? How can a trillion cells imagine and represent the Universe? Not very well. Though as humans, we constantly will try.
We went to the Tanay Club Pabasa last night. Pabasa is the tradition of chanting / singing about the life and times of Jesus. In the Spanish colonial Philippines, the Filipinos were deprived of copies of the Bible. Most likely because the Spaniards knew that the Bible is one subversive book which preaches equality to all mankind. The last thing you want as a colonial master is to explain to your servants that you are equal in heaven but not in earth. Rebellions are made from these types of incongruities.
The Spanish solution was to have a Tagalog translation of the life of Jesus. But, limit the mentioning of the Old Testament. You don't need that drivel about God being a vengeful god smiting down towns. It is far better to read about a sanitized version of Jesus where everything falls just right.
At the center of the pabasa were the patron saints which are lent to the club by various families. In the Philippines, to own a statue of a saint is something to achieve. I suppose the larger your statue, the better the family? At any rate, there were about six or seven patron saints in the midst of all this prayer. Would anyone like to guess what each and every single face in that altar looked like? Yup, all of them were Caucasian features. Even the Black Madonna which is famous somewhere in the Philippines has Caucasian features. The only black part is the skin.
I pointed this out to a friend's mother and she stared at the statues. After a while, she said "You know, I never really noticed. I just figured that the saints were from Spain and Europe so it is right that they were Caucasian." I could not help but wince at the truth. The whole world prays at statues with Caucasian faces because of the way that the Catholic church developed. With the advent of the printing press, the Germans were able to mass produce the Bible and of course, with words come pictures. How would a human make a representation of God. Well, the human would use his own image. After all, that is what the Bible said. God made us in his own image. And thus came the whitening of God. I should note that I read about this in this book discussing how come Jews and Catholics became so polarized. See Constantine's Sword.
I pointed out that in the Philippines it does not matter that much, unless one meets a white person. Refer to Leny's story and you will see what I mean.
However, place having your God look like Caucasians in the context of Pin@ys working in hospitals or teaching in schools in the United States, and one has a power imbalance. Immediately, the Filipinos will acquiesce and be more forgiving of the Caucasian. I'm not saying that this happens every time. But it does affect us at an unconcious level.
Several years ago, I asked a friend of mine to ask a wood carver from the Philippines to create a last supper sculpture. The twist that I wanted was that the the inhabitants of the sculpture should look Pin@y. The wood carver was honest. He had never had anyone request that before. Several months pass by. My friend's father goes to examine the carving. He rejects the carving as inferior.
When I heard the news, I was intrigued. I wondered how the sculpture looked. On one hand, perhaps the sculptor could not create a wondrous sculpture because he could not conceive of the thirteen apostles and Jesus with Filipino faces. Perhaps his mind was so set in making Caucasian looking pictures. But the flip side of the situation is that perhaps my friend's father also had limits. In seeing a last supper sculpture with Filipino faces, perhaps he decided that it was inferior. It did not look right perhaps because the apostles are Pin@y.
My friend's mother did mention that her husband rejected the sculpture because he did not think it was fit as a gift. I believe I will have to send the SO to Paete to get our sculpture of the last supper with Filipino faces.
In one sense, I can understand why Moslems forbid the representation of God in terms of images. How can the human mind ever encapsulate the grandness of God? How can a trillion cells imagine and represent the Universe? Not very well. Though as humans, we constantly will try.
We went to the Tanay Club Pabasa last night. Pabasa is the tradition of chanting / singing about the life and times of Jesus. In the Spanish colonial Philippines, the Filipinos were deprived of copies of the Bible. Most likely because the Spaniards knew that the Bible is one subversive book which preaches equality to all mankind. The last thing you want as a colonial master is to explain to your servants that you are equal in heaven but not in earth. Rebellions are made from these types of incongruities.
The Spanish solution was to have a Tagalog translation of the life of Jesus. But, limit the mentioning of the Old Testament. You don't need that drivel about God being a vengeful god smiting down towns. It is far better to read about a sanitized version of Jesus where everything falls just right.
At the center of the pabasa were the patron saints which are lent to the club by various families. In the Philippines, to own a statue of a saint is something to achieve. I suppose the larger your statue, the better the family? At any rate, there were about six or seven patron saints in the midst of all this prayer. Would anyone like to guess what each and every single face in that altar looked like? Yup, all of them were Caucasian features. Even the Black Madonna which is famous somewhere in the Philippines has Caucasian features. The only black part is the skin.
I pointed this out to a friend's mother and she stared at the statues. After a while, she said "You know, I never really noticed. I just figured that the saints were from Spain and Europe so it is right that they were Caucasian." I could not help but wince at the truth. The whole world prays at statues with Caucasian faces because of the way that the Catholic church developed. With the advent of the printing press, the Germans were able to mass produce the Bible and of course, with words come pictures. How would a human make a representation of God. Well, the human would use his own image. After all, that is what the Bible said. God made us in his own image. And thus came the whitening of God. I should note that I read about this in this book discussing how come Jews and Catholics became so polarized. See Constantine's Sword.
I pointed out that in the Philippines it does not matter that much, unless one meets a white person. Refer to Leny's story and you will see what I mean.
However, place having your God look like Caucasians in the context of Pin@ys working in hospitals or teaching in schools in the United States, and one has a power imbalance. Immediately, the Filipinos will acquiesce and be more forgiving of the Caucasian. I'm not saying that this happens every time. But it does affect us at an unconcious level.
Several years ago, I asked a friend of mine to ask a wood carver from the Philippines to create a last supper sculpture. The twist that I wanted was that the the inhabitants of the sculpture should look Pin@y. The wood carver was honest. He had never had anyone request that before. Several months pass by. My friend's father goes to examine the carving. He rejects the carving as inferior.
When I heard the news, I was intrigued. I wondered how the sculpture looked. On one hand, perhaps the sculptor could not create a wondrous sculpture because he could not conceive of the thirteen apostles and Jesus with Filipino faces. Perhaps his mind was so set in making Caucasian looking pictures. But the flip side of the situation is that perhaps my friend's father also had limits. In seeing a last supper sculpture with Filipino faces, perhaps he decided that it was inferior. It did not look right perhaps because the apostles are Pin@y.
My friend's mother did mention that her husband rejected the sculpture because he did not think it was fit as a gift. I believe I will have to send the SO to Paete to get our sculpture of the last supper with Filipino faces.
Thursday, March 24, 2005
Sacramento Road Trip
As we were driving to Sacramento, the SO and I were talking. It was amazing actually. We were talking for nearly 1 hour and thirty minutes on the drive over. We talked about the poets Nick Carbo, Patrick Rosal, and Luis Francia. I askeed what poems they read and how the event went on Friday evening. The SO relayed the degree of separation of peole. For example, how a friend of Patrick's is also the same cousin of the poet Anthem Salgado.
We spoke about Kali. How Kali allows people to see beyond the current reality into the future. How the SO is seeing something great in the future. How another student is chatting with her and says the same thing. And how a second student joins the chat and writes about how she is feeling that something big will happen.
You must understand, when I see the SO execute Kali, I see it not as a sport but as truth in life. It is life and death. It is beautiful, yes. The movements are fluid. But those very same fluid movements deal death to a person. The SO reveals that she understood why Kali developed to be such a lethal art as she was standing in Camiguin in the Philippines. The weather was so hot that it sapped the energy from her body. That is why the masters wanted to be able to kill in one strike. So that they can go on with their lives.
We spoke about how people have to leave old friends that they have outgrown. I realized that I had done this naturally. Whenever someone offended me, out he or she went with the trash. I thought that I was so mean and nasty whenever I did this. In truth, I was setting myself free. Only when I tried to hold onto women did I ever have very difficult moments in my life. I thought that the women were too precious for me to leave. I wanted to be with them forever. In some ways, their cups were not large enough for my soul.
When I finally let go of the women I was so desperately trying to hold onto, that is the moment when I found not one, but a multitude of women who could hold my soul. One of them is the SO. The others are friends who have seen me grow and expand my horizon.
As we were driving to Sacramento, the SO and I were talking. It was amazing actually. We were talking for nearly 1 hour and thirty minutes on the drive over. We talked about the poets Nick Carbo, Patrick Rosal, and Luis Francia. I askeed what poems they read and how the event went on Friday evening. The SO relayed the degree of separation of peole. For example, how a friend of Patrick's is also the same cousin of the poet Anthem Salgado.
We spoke about Kali. How Kali allows people to see beyond the current reality into the future. How the SO is seeing something great in the future. How another student is chatting with her and says the same thing. And how a second student joins the chat and writes about how she is feeling that something big will happen.
You must understand, when I see the SO execute Kali, I see it not as a sport but as truth in life. It is life and death. It is beautiful, yes. The movements are fluid. But those very same fluid movements deal death to a person. The SO reveals that she understood why Kali developed to be such a lethal art as she was standing in Camiguin in the Philippines. The weather was so hot that it sapped the energy from her body. That is why the masters wanted to be able to kill in one strike. So that they can go on with their lives.
We spoke about how people have to leave old friends that they have outgrown. I realized that I had done this naturally. Whenever someone offended me, out he or she went with the trash. I thought that I was so mean and nasty whenever I did this. In truth, I was setting myself free. Only when I tried to hold onto women did I ever have very difficult moments in my life. I thought that the women were too precious for me to leave. I wanted to be with them forever. In some ways, their cups were not large enough for my soul.
When I finally let go of the women I was so desperately trying to hold onto, that is the moment when I found not one, but a multitude of women who could hold my soul. One of them is the SO. The others are friends who have seen me grow and expand my horizon.
This is why America should lead the world
The latest news is that a brain dead person in a vegetative state is being fought over by the families. The husband wants to end her life by withdrawing nasal feeding. The parents want her alive because she is their daughter.
The past weekend, the Congress of the US with Republicans and Democrats approved a petition where the federal courts should rule. Mind you, the case has been going through the Florida state courts. The husband thought he had finally won through the state court when the Florida courts sided with him. But, in America, you can never be too sure. There are appeals upon appeals upon appeals.
And so, in America, we come to a situation where we kill people who are criminals. But we also want complete vegetables who don't have personalities or the ability to eat to live as long as possible.
I believe that everyone in America should take science courses in high school because our state of medicine is getting to the point where people need to know about vegetative state, physiology, cancer and other diseases. It is IGNORANCE that kills. And in my time, ignorance seems to grow in America in abundance.
The latest news is that a brain dead person in a vegetative state is being fought over by the families. The husband wants to end her life by withdrawing nasal feeding. The parents want her alive because she is their daughter.
The past weekend, the Congress of the US with Republicans and Democrats approved a petition where the federal courts should rule. Mind you, the case has been going through the Florida state courts. The husband thought he had finally won through the state court when the Florida courts sided with him. But, in America, you can never be too sure. There are appeals upon appeals upon appeals.
And so, in America, we come to a situation where we kill people who are criminals. But we also want complete vegetables who don't have personalities or the ability to eat to live as long as possible.
I believe that everyone in America should take science courses in high school because our state of medicine is getting to the point where people need to know about vegetative state, physiology, cancer and other diseases. It is IGNORANCE that kills. And in my time, ignorance seems to grow in America in abundance.
The Anal Retentive Me Comes Out
Have you ever dealt with someone who tries to look like they know what they are doing, but they really are just bullshitting? Have you ever wanted to slowly crush their logic so that they can see for themself just how silly they are? Well, Andrew Carnegie suggests not to do this. But that is with reasonable people. With dumb people who also are lazy, forget it.
The facility tech came into the photofinishing lab carrying a thermometer. He suddenly twirled the thermometer. Since we are a serious organization, there are rules. I asked why he is doing what he is doing. I have never seen it in a SOP. He says that this is a normal way to treat a thermometer which has had the dye separate. I tell him that if the dye has separated, the thermometer is broken.
He then proceeds to tell me that it is "normal" for dye thermometers to separate. I suggest that he obtain some other thermometer because separated columns in dye thermometers are broken. He says that shipping the thermometers separates the dye. I said "Moving thermometers separates the dye?" He says it is normal.
I suggest he return said thermometer. He says that the company will send him the same type. I ask, "Did you send it back, and did they send you the same one?" He answers "No." He says that "I fixed the thermometer yesterday. It just separated today when I carried it here."
So now I point out that if he "fixed" it yesterday, it should remain fixed. He says that "You are not supposed to carry the thermometer." I then point out that "You have to carry a thermometer, whether it be from one site to another." I then suggest that he get a new thermometer.
As he leaves, he says "I will consider what you have to say." I say "No, don't consider what I say. I am telling you that I don't want that thermometer. I am suggesting that you get another type of thermometer. Now, you are free to bring that broken thermometer to the store. But, if you do, and people's pictures start disappearing because of incorrect temperature, then I will not be happy. If I am not happy, then I will write a report saying why I am not happy. Then, whoever bought the thermometer will not be happy."
Ahh, to work with competent people. How the hell do you do that? Where can I find them?
Have you ever dealt with someone who tries to look like they know what they are doing, but they really are just bullshitting? Have you ever wanted to slowly crush their logic so that they can see for themself just how silly they are? Well, Andrew Carnegie suggests not to do this. But that is with reasonable people. With dumb people who also are lazy, forget it.
The facility tech came into the photofinishing lab carrying a thermometer. He suddenly twirled the thermometer. Since we are a serious organization, there are rules. I asked why he is doing what he is doing. I have never seen it in a SOP. He says that this is a normal way to treat a thermometer which has had the dye separate. I tell him that if the dye has separated, the thermometer is broken.
He then proceeds to tell me that it is "normal" for dye thermometers to separate. I suggest that he obtain some other thermometer because separated columns in dye thermometers are broken. He says that shipping the thermometers separates the dye. I said "Moving thermometers separates the dye?" He says it is normal.
I suggest he return said thermometer. He says that the company will send him the same type. I ask, "Did you send it back, and did they send you the same one?" He answers "No." He says that "I fixed the thermometer yesterday. It just separated today when I carried it here."
So now I point out that if he "fixed" it yesterday, it should remain fixed. He says that "You are not supposed to carry the thermometer." I then point out that "You have to carry a thermometer, whether it be from one site to another." I then suggest that he get a new thermometer.
As he leaves, he says "I will consider what you have to say." I say "No, don't consider what I say. I am telling you that I don't want that thermometer. I am suggesting that you get another type of thermometer. Now, you are free to bring that broken thermometer to the store. But, if you do, and people's pictures start disappearing because of incorrect temperature, then I will not be happy. If I am not happy, then I will write a report saying why I am not happy. Then, whoever bought the thermometer will not be happy."
Ahh, to work with competent people. How the hell do you do that? Where can I find them?
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
Go Get The Stick REtong!!! Go!!!
I would just like to say that the html coding that Veronica is doing is hard! Dang! I copied the questions and I was aghast to see a sea of < and >.
You're stuck inside Farenheit 451. What book do you want to be?
The Anarchist Cookbook. Call me petty; call me nuts. If I'm going down, I'm going to take someone with me. Hopefully, the guy reading the cookbook would be someone who can use it.
Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character?
Do comic book characters count? At one time, I liked a Valkyrie in the Marvel Universe. I liked her so much, Valkyries started appearing in my world. Hmm, bettter stop now.
The last book you bought is...
Blink by Malcolm Gladwell. It explains why some people can be good when judging people.
Five books you would take to a deserted island:
Complete Works of Shakespeare. The Yale edition is so thick I used to flatten photographs with it.
History of the World by Jawarhalal Nehru.
How to survive in a deserted island.
Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire.
The Koran.
What are you currently reading?
Something like "Secrets of Microsoft Word and Excel".
The 8th Habit: From Effectiveness to Greatness
The Ultimate in Rifle Accuracy
How to Win Friends and Influence People
Your Best Life Now
Feng Shui and Money: A Nine-Week Program for Creating Wealth Using Ancient Principles and Techniques
Who are you going to pass this stick to and why?
Aurelio Agcaoli. He writes the truth through his poetry.
Angelo A.. Sure he does not like the idea of my selling cockrings in the Philippines. But, that is only because I have not made the langka cockrings.
Mitzi. Because I want to know what a twentysomething female in the Philippines is reading. [Update: She's the first one to respond! She deserves a prize.]
Cathy. Because I want to know what a cat reads. Is it like the cat in Red Dwarf? Reading by smell?
Kat. Because I wanted to be a lawyer. I want to know if lawyers have time to read other things besides court cases.
Sister Mary. Do nuns ever think about Jesus in a sexual way? I'm going to burn in hell. I know.
I would just like to say that the html coding that Veronica is doing is hard! Dang! I copied the questions and I was aghast to see a sea of < and >.
You're stuck inside Farenheit 451. What book do you want to be?
The Anarchist Cookbook. Call me petty; call me nuts. If I'm going down, I'm going to take someone with me. Hopefully, the guy reading the cookbook would be someone who can use it.
Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character?
Do comic book characters count? At one time, I liked a Valkyrie in the Marvel Universe. I liked her so much, Valkyries started appearing in my world. Hmm, bettter stop now.
The last book you bought is...
Blink by Malcolm Gladwell. It explains why some people can be good when judging people.
Five books you would take to a deserted island:
Complete Works of Shakespeare. The Yale edition is so thick I used to flatten photographs with it.
History of the World by Jawarhalal Nehru.
How to survive in a deserted island.
Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire.
The Koran.
What are you currently reading?
Something like "Secrets of Microsoft Word and Excel".
The 8th Habit: From Effectiveness to Greatness
The Ultimate in Rifle Accuracy
How to Win Friends and Influence People
Your Best Life Now
Feng Shui and Money: A Nine-Week Program for Creating Wealth Using Ancient Principles and Techniques
Who are you going to pass this stick to and why?
Aurelio Agcaoli. He writes the truth through his poetry.
Angelo A.. Sure he does not like the idea of my selling cockrings in the Philippines. But, that is only because I have not made the langka cockrings.
Mitzi. Because I want to know what a twentysomething female in the Philippines is reading. [Update: She's the first one to respond! She deserves a prize.]
Cathy. Because I want to know what a cat reads. Is it like the cat in Red Dwarf? Reading by smell?
Kat. Because I wanted to be a lawyer. I want to know if lawyers have time to read other things besides court cases.
Sister Mary. Do nuns ever think about Jesus in a sexual way? I'm going to burn in hell. I know.
Monday, March 21, 2005
The secrets of the world are yours, but I have to kill you
I belong to a money group. The group taught me how to save, invest and take care of money. Along the way, I did not realize that I had changed all that much. The following are the achievements of some members of the group in the last year. One member has $50,000 and is now shopping for a house in Redwood City. Another member bought a house in Las Vegas. I managed to save $21,000 this past year. Another member saved $18,000. Over the weekend, my teacher who is called Tuhan mentioned that what the group has done in the last four years is remarkable.
He also said something very interesting. "I can tell you the secret of life, the world and money. But I have to kill you." Of course, since sometimes I am slow, I did not understand. Phrased differently, Tuhan said that as we began doing the exercises and the saving of money and the counting of money, we were changing ourselves. We had to examine our life and we had to account for our failures and successes. Are you happy with the life you have? Or do you want to be able to take care of yourself? If you want to change, you will have to kill the current "you".
While driving to sacramento, the SO and I were talking. She said that in one sense, she did not have problems with the money group. She had gone through a death and a rebirth during high school when she began questioning who she was. She said that as we change and become older, we also die. And so it happened to me. The REtong who was a bumbling teen-ager died / changed into the REtong who was an undergraduate. The undergraduate died and became a graduate student. The graduate student died and became a Pin@y.
It is difficult to come to terms with one's mortality. Sometimes, it seems larger than we can ever overcome. But with time, it makes more and more sense. The time is limited. Let us make use of it.
I belong to a money group. The group taught me how to save, invest and take care of money. Along the way, I did not realize that I had changed all that much. The following are the achievements of some members of the group in the last year. One member has $50,000 and is now shopping for a house in Redwood City. Another member bought a house in Las Vegas. I managed to save $21,000 this past year. Another member saved $18,000. Over the weekend, my teacher who is called Tuhan mentioned that what the group has done in the last four years is remarkable.
He also said something very interesting. "I can tell you the secret of life, the world and money. But I have to kill you." Of course, since sometimes I am slow, I did not understand. Phrased differently, Tuhan said that as we began doing the exercises and the saving of money and the counting of money, we were changing ourselves. We had to examine our life and we had to account for our failures and successes. Are you happy with the life you have? Or do you want to be able to take care of yourself? If you want to change, you will have to kill the current "you".
While driving to sacramento, the SO and I were talking. She said that in one sense, she did not have problems with the money group. She had gone through a death and a rebirth during high school when she began questioning who she was. She said that as we change and become older, we also die. And so it happened to me. The REtong who was a bumbling teen-ager died / changed into the REtong who was an undergraduate. The undergraduate died and became a graduate student. The graduate student died and became a Pin@y.
It is difficult to come to terms with one's mortality. Sometimes, it seems larger than we can ever overcome. But with time, it makes more and more sense. The time is limited. Let us make use of it.
Sunday, March 20, 2005
Crazy Weekend
It began at 5 AM on Friday and did not end till 10PM on Sunday. That was the crazy weekend I just had. Maybe got rewards me with great weekends so that I can feel revitalized for the coming week at work. Really, I forget what work is all about with weekends like these.
On Friday, I go early to work so that I can try and leave early. I finally get to leave at 4:30 PM. But, the traffic is so heavy on the Bay Bridge that I get home at 6:30 PM. That's right. 2 hours of stop and go madness on the roads of San Francisco. I ate about ten candies and a pack of Cheetos because of hunger. Oh, my target to get home was to try and attend the Pin@y poetry talk "Navigating Location: Pilipino Poets in the Diaspora" (that was an approximate title, mind you. Remember, I did not make it to the talk) at UC Berkeley. The panelists were Nick Carbo, Luis Francia and Patrick Rosal . The panel was organized by Barbara Reyes.
So, I finally get home, and I ask myself, how am I going to meet these poets? Heck, I want to see them. Folks, here's a lesson for you. If you are trying to meet the poets, the poets have to eat dinner!!! That's right! I asked the SO to inform me where they are going to dinner so I can just meet up with them. And you know the great thing about it? We ended up in an Ethiopian restaurant called The Blue Nile.
A bottle of honeywine was passed around at the table as the conversation zigzagged from boxing, to Formalism, to colonialism, to VirgilioAlmario, to poetry grants, to academia. I dined with five of the leading poets in the world that night. And I am sure that since there was wine at the table, the Chatelaine's spirit was also dining and cackling like her angels.
To say the least, it is a night like that which makes life worth leading. To hear poets say what is in their heart and minds is joyous. To hear their thoughts and their fears. To sense their joy and their prayer for future. It is great to hear it from people in general. But with poets, the romance comes out because of the precise nature of their word choice.
The only way it would have been better is if the Chatelaine were present. She would have blogged about it and noted how all the sexual innuendoes flew around the room.
It began at 5 AM on Friday and did not end till 10PM on Sunday. That was the crazy weekend I just had. Maybe got rewards me with great weekends so that I can feel revitalized for the coming week at work. Really, I forget what work is all about with weekends like these.
On Friday, I go early to work so that I can try and leave early. I finally get to leave at 4:30 PM. But, the traffic is so heavy on the Bay Bridge that I get home at 6:30 PM. That's right. 2 hours of stop and go madness on the roads of San Francisco. I ate about ten candies and a pack of Cheetos because of hunger. Oh, my target to get home was to try and attend the Pin@y poetry talk "Navigating Location: Pilipino Poets in the Diaspora" (that was an approximate title, mind you. Remember, I did not make it to the talk) at UC Berkeley. The panelists were Nick Carbo, Luis Francia and Patrick Rosal . The panel was organized by Barbara Reyes.
So, I finally get home, and I ask myself, how am I going to meet these poets? Heck, I want to see them. Folks, here's a lesson for you. If you are trying to meet the poets, the poets have to eat dinner!!! That's right! I asked the SO to inform me where they are going to dinner so I can just meet up with them. And you know the great thing about it? We ended up in an Ethiopian restaurant called The Blue Nile.
A bottle of honeywine was passed around at the table as the conversation zigzagged from boxing, to Formalism, to colonialism, to VirgilioAlmario, to poetry grants, to academia. I dined with five of the leading poets in the world that night. And I am sure that since there was wine at the table, the Chatelaine's spirit was also dining and cackling like her angels.
To say the least, it is a night like that which makes life worth leading. To hear poets say what is in their heart and minds is joyous. To hear their thoughts and their fears. To sense their joy and their prayer for future. It is great to hear it from people in general. But with poets, the romance comes out because of the precise nature of their word choice.
The only way it would have been better is if the Chatelaine were present. She would have blogged about it and noted how all the sexual innuendoes flew around the room.
Apologies
Well, it was an insane weekend. I tried to do too many things and some plans fell through. I knew it was going to be difficult, and so I offer apologies to Jet and Ate Sienna. Sorry guys. My plan was to meet with you in SF on Saturday night. However, the manic fever of the Pacquiao fight just engulfed me and the fiancee. I thought the fight was set for 6PM. By the time the fight ended, it was 10PM.
Of course, if I had known that these two were going to be up, which of course I should have, I would have driven over to SF.
I promise to make it up to the two of you. Jet, I will be traversing to Sacramento again. This time I will make plans and an itinerary. So, do you have preferences on where to go?
Well, it was an insane weekend. I tried to do too many things and some plans fell through. I knew it was going to be difficult, and so I offer apologies to Jet and Ate Sienna. Sorry guys. My plan was to meet with you in SF on Saturday night. However, the manic fever of the Pacquiao fight just engulfed me and the fiancee. I thought the fight was set for 6PM. By the time the fight ended, it was 10PM.
Of course, if I had known that these two were going to be up, which of course I should have, I would have driven over to SF.
I promise to make it up to the two of you. Jet, I will be traversing to Sacramento again. This time I will make plans and an itinerary. So, do you have preferences on where to go?
Pornography
The ever reliable Chatelaine has done it again. Whenever her readers have plateaud out at so many million or billion peeps, she will always find a way to increase those numbers. Poets and photographers should learn from Eileen the art of advertising. Imagine that… buy a poetry brick and you get a cockring! Just with that poetry offer alone, the Chatelaine has increased her readership by 5 million peeps. And not all of those were live peeps. Some of those readers were dead male peeps who came back to life because of the allure of the cock rings.
But I am not resistant! In fact I am grateful! The door of impropriety has been thrust open. I can go on and talk about some of my favorite subjects: Pornography! Whopee. Watch out for Chapter One.
The ever reliable Chatelaine has done it again. Whenever her readers have plateaud out at so many million or billion peeps, she will always find a way to increase those numbers. Poets and photographers should learn from Eileen the art of advertising. Imagine that… buy a poetry brick and you get a cockring! Just with that poetry offer alone, the Chatelaine has increased her readership by 5 million peeps. And not all of those were live peeps. Some of those readers were dead male peeps who came back to life because of the allure of the cock rings.
But I am not resistant! In fact I am grateful! The door of impropriety has been thrust open. I can go on and talk about some of my favorite subjects: Pornography! Whopee. Watch out for Chapter One.
Thursday, March 17, 2005
Surprise, Surprise
So I have been getting some signs lately that my time at the photofinishing place is coming to an end. You know, stuff like the company letting indispensable cogs go. Not just indispensable, but really really important people who help run the place.
And the great hiatus is ended. My boss is coming back to the fore and going psychotic again. You know the deal, he goes nuts over the details. Wants to know the smallest things. Drives me up the wall.
And today, we hired back someone who left the company. Not only that, we hire them back as a manager. This person was so bad that she managed to develop film by opening the film canisters in broad daylight. Yup, she opened them right up. And she wondered why there were no images. Oh, and did I mention that she said that the job at the photofinishing place were jobs for those who have no future? Bwahahhaha. Yup, we hired them back as a manager.
That is a sign. A sure sign. I think I will be hanging the shingle at a different place. If it weren't for a friend, I sure as heck would have left the door today. He said that there are still lessons for me to learn; chemicals to mix; colors to subtract.
Today was a four. I finished a report, but received not so great news.
So I have been getting some signs lately that my time at the photofinishing place is coming to an end. You know, stuff like the company letting indispensable cogs go. Not just indispensable, but really really important people who help run the place.
And the great hiatus is ended. My boss is coming back to the fore and going psychotic again. You know the deal, he goes nuts over the details. Wants to know the smallest things. Drives me up the wall.
And today, we hired back someone who left the company. Not only that, we hire them back as a manager. This person was so bad that she managed to develop film by opening the film canisters in broad daylight. Yup, she opened them right up. And she wondered why there were no images. Oh, and did I mention that she said that the job at the photofinishing place were jobs for those who have no future? Bwahahhaha. Yup, we hired them back as a manager.
That is a sign. A sure sign. I think I will be hanging the shingle at a different place. If it weren't for a friend, I sure as heck would have left the door today. He said that there are still lessons for me to learn; chemicals to mix; colors to subtract.
Today was a four. I finished a report, but received not so great news.
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
Race and Priming effects in the head
In the book BLINK by Malcolm Gladwell, the idea of priming is described. To illustrate it, he describes an experiment. Refer to "Stereotype Threat and intellectual Test Performance of African Americans" in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, Volume 69, No. 5, (1995): pages 797-811.
African-Americans are tested with GRE questions. If they are asked to identify their race in a pretest questionnare, the number of correct answers dropped by 50%. The explanation is that the negative stereotypes about being African American is enough to lower the test scores.
It makes you think what all these tests mean. In my real world of the photo store, I don't ask my employees what SAT or GRE score they have. None of that matters. Can they follow directions? Can they not blow up the lab?
That is all that matters.
In the book BLINK by Malcolm Gladwell, the idea of priming is described. To illustrate it, he describes an experiment. Refer to "Stereotype Threat and intellectual Test Performance of African Americans" in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, Volume 69, No. 5, (1995): pages 797-811.
African-Americans are tested with GRE questions. If they are asked to identify their race in a pretest questionnare, the number of correct answers dropped by 50%. The explanation is that the negative stereotypes about being African American is enough to lower the test scores.
It makes you think what all these tests mean. In my real world of the photo store, I don't ask my employees what SAT or GRE score they have. None of that matters. Can they follow directions? Can they not blow up the lab?
That is all that matters.
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
Lying down
This morning, I am lying down with the SO and talking about life, this and that and the occasional hype. We had gone to the POMO show in Yerba Buena in SF on Sunday. The lights, darkness, promise, poetry, and performances must have totally thrown my center off. I have been feeling unwell lately. But usually, in times like this, I am able to see much more clearly into people's lives.
For instance, I met some of the staff of Maganda (year 2005). Wonder of wonder. They all looked like me. In an instant, I knew that they were concerned about the world beyond what they can put in their resume so that they can go on to a good MBA school. They spoke like they had substance beyond the smoothness of words. If I chose to challenge and question their thoughts, they would be able to give me a meaning of their reality. Too often, this ability to make sense of life during college is missing.
And so I lay with the SO. Talking. Discussing. One of the things that came up was how youth speaks with the voice of power and virtue and righteousness. Yet, in the face of reality, that power becomes empty, used, and drowned. You see, it is easy to say that so and so is wrong. The world is wrong. The world is fucked up. The adults have fucked up this world. You should fix this world. Refer to just about any poem by someone who is under the age of 21. You will see this theme of righteous indignation.
And yet given the opportunity to change the world, most of us do not. We are selfish. We are addicts. We like to please ourselves. Saying that the world is fucked up is not enough. You must in the end do something about it. And NO. Sorry, but starting a family by getting pregnant with some guy is not an answer to the world's problems.
Single motherhood behooves me to end. In the day and age when choices can be made, it behooves me that there are still many single mothers out there. I have just seen one generation of activists come to a startling halt because they have been inundated by single mothers.
I realize that sex is a million years of evolutionary drive. It's great to get hot and heavy. It's great to feel good. It's great to have some firewater to stoke up the love. But for crying out loud men, carry a damned CONDOM!!!!
The movement to change the world comes in fits and starts because in one sense, we try to go against our drive to procreate. It is a billion year's worth of evolution. I place the blame on ourselves. We are weak. We make mistakes. We perpetuate that which we rail against.
Men are boys who can not control their penises. In the process, we destroy the very women who are out to change the world. For a chance of getting laid with someone, we will destroy their destiny. I have seen it happen time and time again. I am at Woman # 5.
Can someone get a condom and give it out?
This morning, I am lying down with the SO and talking about life, this and that and the occasional hype. We had gone to the POMO show in Yerba Buena in SF on Sunday. The lights, darkness, promise, poetry, and performances must have totally thrown my center off. I have been feeling unwell lately. But usually, in times like this, I am able to see much more clearly into people's lives.
For instance, I met some of the staff of Maganda (year 2005). Wonder of wonder. They all looked like me. In an instant, I knew that they were concerned about the world beyond what they can put in their resume so that they can go on to a good MBA school. They spoke like they had substance beyond the smoothness of words. If I chose to challenge and question their thoughts, they would be able to give me a meaning of their reality. Too often, this ability to make sense of life during college is missing.
And so I lay with the SO. Talking. Discussing. One of the things that came up was how youth speaks with the voice of power and virtue and righteousness. Yet, in the face of reality, that power becomes empty, used, and drowned. You see, it is easy to say that so and so is wrong. The world is wrong. The world is fucked up. The adults have fucked up this world. You should fix this world. Refer to just about any poem by someone who is under the age of 21. You will see this theme of righteous indignation.
And yet given the opportunity to change the world, most of us do not. We are selfish. We are addicts. We like to please ourselves. Saying that the world is fucked up is not enough. You must in the end do something about it. And NO. Sorry, but starting a family by getting pregnant with some guy is not an answer to the world's problems.
Single motherhood behooves me to end. In the day and age when choices can be made, it behooves me that there are still many single mothers out there. I have just seen one generation of activists come to a startling halt because they have been inundated by single mothers.
I realize that sex is a million years of evolutionary drive. It's great to get hot and heavy. It's great to feel good. It's great to have some firewater to stoke up the love. But for crying out loud men, carry a damned CONDOM!!!!
The movement to change the world comes in fits and starts because in one sense, we try to go against our drive to procreate. It is a billion year's worth of evolution. I place the blame on ourselves. We are weak. We make mistakes. We perpetuate that which we rail against.
Men are boys who can not control their penises. In the process, we destroy the very women who are out to change the world. For a chance of getting laid with someone, we will destroy their destiny. I have seen it happen time and time again. I am at Woman # 5.
Can someone get a condom and give it out?
NVM
To a certain extent, the Pin@y psyche is intertwined with the greatest writers of land. Here's a story about NVM Gonzalez.
To a certain extent, the Pin@y psyche is intertwined with the greatest writers of land. Here's a story about NVM Gonzalez.
The Old Fashined Way of Doing It
I might have gotten carried away with giving Pin@y Blog of the Day awards to bloggers who are retching and drinking shitfaced all the time. But to give you balance, check out Aurelio Agcaoli's site. Poetry as only someone who is Pin@y can write. I want to meet this person. His site is the Pin@y Blog of the Day for the 18th of March in the year of the Pin@y 2005.
I might have gotten carried away with giving Pin@y Blog of the Day awards to bloggers who are retching and drinking shitfaced all the time. But to give you balance, check out Aurelio Agcaoli's site. Poetry as only someone who is Pin@y can write. I want to meet this person. His site is the Pin@y Blog of the Day for the 18th of March in the year of the Pin@y 2005.
Another East Coast Pin@y
Err.... Uhmmm... Yeah. Right. Tequila Shots is the Pin@y Blog of the Day for the 17th of March in the year of the Pin@y 2005. From food to sex to an incredible staying power, her blog is just plain interesting. Bipolar? It's just a little incident. Four inch penis? If you know how to work it, it's okay.
Err.... Uhmmm... Yeah. Right. Tequila Shots is the Pin@y Blog of the Day for the 17th of March in the year of the Pin@y 2005. From food to sex to an incredible staying power, her blog is just plain interesting. Bipolar? It's just a little incident. Four inch penis? If you know how to work it, it's okay.
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