I don’t want to go emo on you again and I really think people don’t care about that nor do I want them to. There’s nothing new in my life. Nothing old that’s now gone. (Dear God, I’m not saying you should take something/someone so that I can write something. Amen.) There’s simply nothing noteworthy to write about.

As for pictures… well, let’s just say that my camera has also been neglected too. The latest use I found for it was to spy on the people on the next building. Maybe I should not have said that.

I think I need a push. A shove. No… I need to be catapulted. There’s a lot of things I want to do but no time, no money and no idea where, how, when to do it. I would like to learn another language. I would like to learn to play the violin. I would like to start exercising. I would like to go to bars and socialize. I would like to go on date. I would like to travel. I would like to have a minor operation. I want to get lost. I want to go clothes shopping. I would like to learn a new handy skill. I would like to learn to cook.

A lot more really. Those are just the ones that come to mind. And the ones safe to write publicly. One recurring thought I have is if only I have an insane amount of money, I would have done those things already. If I had the money, I would quit my job and focus on doing the things I want. I would also have something to write about. I imagine I would post about the stupid mistake of putting the predicate before the subject in my Nihonggo lessons. Or how I smashed the bow to pieces on my instructors head. Or how I failed miserably on my date.

But, alas. Those are not meant to be. Not now anyway. Or in the near future. I now I may sound pessimistic, and I am but I really do believe that unless something changes drastically (Dear God, By that I mean for the better. Amen.), like winning the lottery, getting super powers, or meeting the (hopefully rich) love of my life, I don’t think any of those things will happen.

So blog, don’t take it personally that I have not posted. It’s not you, it’s me. And my drastically boring life.

Actually, this article started because I was writing an article and noticed that it got too long even by my standards. Then I remembered that I read about a contraction that is quite relevant to my style of writing and decided that I should write (and prove that the contraction should be prolifically used in the comments section of my blog) about the said contraction.

You should have guessed what the contraction is with the title of this article but in case you are an idiot or have the memory retention of a bedpan, the contraction is “TL;DR”. It means “Too Long; Didn’t Read”. I can hear your brains go “Aaahhh. Yeah, I should comment that often.”

I’m not an idiot. I know that my articles are long and though they are not always intended to be such, it is not a mistake that they are. I am wordy. I like words even to the point of the detriment of my articles. Yes, I write my articles with the intention of public perusal and the fact that it’s long and quite boring midway is a turn off but I don’t care. Well, I do a little but not to the point that I would make a drastic change in my writing behavior. Maybe a little, but not enough that you’d notice it.

My articles are long because I just have a lot of things to say and I want to say them in a fashion that’s long and boring. Well, not really but it comes out that way anyway. For example, I could simply say, “I went home because it was raining.” but I don’t. Instead, I write, “Since it was precipitating, it would be difficult if I endeared to go anywhere so I chose the homeward bound route instead.” Yeah, I know it’s stupid and even I hate it sometimes but I find it fun to write in that fashion. Also, if you’ve noticed, I write like I am talking to you. I know writing is supposed to be like that but what I mean is that I write in a way as if I’m talking to you. If you listen to me actually talk and then read what I write, they would be very similar if not entirely the same. The difference with “normal” writing is that when you read a history book out loud, it’s not like you are having a conversation. It’s more like reading out loud. If you read my articles out loud, and if you use the right emphasis, stress, tone and whatnot while reading it, it will sound like I am just having a rather long monologue. I try to make it sound like I’m talking to you. This is apparent with the my “errors”. In writing, if after proofreading you find an error, you simply correct it. However, in conversations you can’t do that. You will have to say the sentence again and that’s how I write. Then I do a lot of “foot notes” (like this) to my sentences just to emphasize or explain or for whatever other purpose.

Not only are my articles riddled with grammar and spelling errors, they are also not meant to follow convention. I am abusing my privilege and I don’t care. So what if it’s really about shoes yet a good chunk of the article drones forever about the cat I saw yesterday? I know I should take writing classes and I know I will benefit from it but I would probably just use some of the points that “I” find to be correct. Even if it is generally accepted as correct, if I don’t find it to be applicable to my personality or would ruin the fun in my writing process, than I would ignore it anyway. I admit that I would get better (like 10000%) if I take a writing class but I don’t know any and I don’t want to exert effort to find one. If you know a cheap or free good one, then contact me. I would appreciate it.

I have a mind that thinks way too fast for my own good. Just now, this sentence was supposed to be a part of the previous paragraph. Yet when I typed it, a whole slew of expounding sentences came to mind so I had to give it its own paragraph. Anyway, my mind has a lot of random ideas and sometimes I can’t keep up. They just pop into mind without provocation and since I think it would be a waste for such wonderful thoughts made by such a brilliant mind to not be known by the world, I include them.

I remember our gradeschool English and Filipino lessons where we had to write about “Our Summer Vacation” and then dread would engulf me since I thought I could not possibly say 100 words about my summer. Well, all I can say is my teachers should see me now. One hundred? Ha! Try a thousand. Let’s see them read through my garbage articles and not be tempted to fail me. I doubt they ever will if I did write like that since that would mean another year with me but still, any form of vengeance would feel gratifying after suffering through all that.

So yeah. I know I have long articles that even the promise of a brighter future and world peace would not be enough to entice you to actually read, much less understand, it. It is, however, the way I write. I cannot help it (not that I made an effort to correct it). Anyway, what I’m trying to say is (finally), I’m sorry if it bores you.

The main one is that I look like I bite, which is true. Piss me off enough and I will hurt you and biting’s not beneath me. They say I look intimidating. I sometimes do this on purpose especially when I feel that someone wants to approach me and I have sensed that the topic that they want to talk about is unappealing or brain numbing. Putting up a face that says, “disturb me and I will rip your face apart that even your mother won’t be able to identify you… or love you” is a very good deterent. Sometimes I don’t do this on purpose. I found out that my face, when left on it’s own, has the tendency to look menacing. My cheeks will simply fall, giving me a slack, unhappy look. My eyelids tend to droop so it looks like I’m squinting and serious. I have dark circles under my eyes which could look like lack of sleep and for people who know me, I am not one to talk with when sleep deprived. It also does not help that I am huge and will probably have a very good career as a bouncer. People fear that if they displease me that I will crush them like an aluminum soda can (I have to be specific since I can’t crush most of the cans of fruit juices). Even if we were taught to not judge a book by it’s cover, we can’t deny that it’s the looks that will either attract or repel us from a person. I am obviously at a disadvantage here.

Another is that they think I’m too prim and proper. This reason is up for debate. I think it is one of the few things that we need for chaos to not ensue. I do this for the sake of said concern for chaos prevention not because I like to be prim and proper. If it’s generally accepted to occupy two bus seats while ignoring a standing pregnant lady, handicapped boy and/or frail old man for comfort and personal space issues and would not result in death, accident, uncomfortable stares, growls or teeth gnashing then I would do so. Unfortunately, that’s not the case. To look prim and proper is also important yet some people ignore this. One does not wear shorts 2 sizes smaller than one’s body just because it’s the in thing and might show off the non-existent package one thinks one has or wear pants 2 (why 2…?) sizes too large so one can wear it around one’s ankles. I don’t care if it’s meant to look like that or it’s given enough stretching provisions to be usable by a cow sized person, it still looks wrong. They might not be aware of this but people who wear inappropriately sized clothes are the indirect cause of wars. This was proven in a study I read (and made up). People in charge of the big red button that starts wars are not blind (as they need to see which button does what) so they can see these people wearing these abominations. Each day that they see these people dressed like idiots adds a little to their stress levels. Eventually, this stress will build up and then they’ll just explode and randomly press things which can potentialy start a war if the right button is pressed (the big red one, in case you forgot already). But I digress… and have been for the last nine sentences. Anyway, looking prim and acting proper is important for human sanity so this should be expected from everyone and not be used as an excuse to call someone unapproachable. I might be pushing it to the limits though, which is why the use it as a reason. They think that I have an unbendable will to conform to standards, customs and traditions and might think that talking to me about nonsense or anything avant garde might be pointless. I agree about the nonsense part but what people don’t know about me is that I find very little to be nonsense. As long as the thing you want to talk about has something that will enrich my knowledge of things then it is fine. If it’s about a child of a former leader having STD or not is none of my concern and should only be discussed with that person’s doctor and never with me or anyone else for that matter. Anything radical should be fine as it is still subject to scrutiny as to whether it’s useful or not. I am not necessarily at a disadvantage here but I’m not exactly raking up brownie points either.

Then there’s the lack of enthusiasm and interest. People sometimes find that I don’t do well as a conversation partner as I do not react sometimes or if I do react it’s not in the way that they were expecting. I found out that that is typical of a person with an MBTI classification of INTJ (I will post another (loooong) article about this soon. (Penny: “Oh. Yey.”)). I agree that talking to someone who does not seem interested with what you’re talking about is quite disconcerting. In spite of my agreeing with this, I cannot help myself but ignore boring topics and not jump in glee when you announce your engagement. Once again I am at a disadvantage.

Whatever the reason people say for my “unapproachable”ness is, it is obvious that I am obviously discriminated. Just because I have face that scowls whenever it’s relaxed, that I try to delay apocalypse by imposing rules bordering on pedantic and that I don’t find you interesting is no reason for people to fear approaching me. Okay, maybe those are reason enough but that doesn’t mean they still shouldn’t try to approach me. It’s simply knowing when and how you approach me that a person should know. Here, I’ll tell you a few pointers on the proper way of approaching me:

When and how you can approach me:

- You can approach me when I am obviously doing nothing. (This is apparent when I am sighing and yawning (not at the same time, mind you) a lot or looking around trying to spot people to annoy. My simply sitting and staring at a point in space is not an indication of my being idle.)

- You can approach me when I actually wave back at you (make sure it’s you and not someone behind you) and make sure it’s an enthusiastic wave back and not laced with intent of murder.

- You can approach me when you are about to give me money (even if the situation falls under one of the “don’t approach me” instances) but make sure it is of a substantial amount.

- Approach me bearing gifts especially if you intend to ask anything from me.

- Approach me kneeling if a prostrate position is not possible (Fine, this is optional since it is not a norm to do so in a public setting and you know me and my unbendable determination to follow rules. Apply when able).

- Approach me with reverence.

- Approach me slowly, avoiding eye contact.

- Approach me if you have no concern for personal safety.

When and how not to approach me:

- Don’t approach me when I am obviously doing something.

- Don’t approach me when I am trying to sleep.

- Don’t approach me when I just woke up.

- Don’t approach me when, as you are walking towards me, I give you a scathing look.

- Don’t approach me when I am reading a book even if it looks like I am reading it lazily.

- Don’t approach me when I ignore the 10 comfortable seats near you and choose the one at the back with no arm rests and is near a trash can or the wash room entrance.

- Don’t approach me when you walk towards me and I flee.

- Don’t approach me when I try to fend you off with a ten foot pole.

- Don’t approach me when I look like I am making a move to walk into oncoming traffic than talk to you.

- Don’t approach me when there is a potential murder weapon nearby, such as a knife, a baseball bat, a hot cup of coffee, a motorized vehicle or your shoes.

- Don’t approach me when I say “Don’t approach me”.

- Don’t approach me when I mimic commiting suicide as you are walking towards me.

- Don’t approach me if the air around my area is of a different temperature than the current ambient temperature.

- Don’t approach me if you’re wearing shorts 2 sizes too small or pants 2 sizes too large.

- Definitely don’t approach me if you’re naked.

- Don’t approach me if the reason is to tell me about the latest about a certain celebrity’s life.

Okay, so maybe I’m not that “easy” to approach but I’m definitely not “unapproachable”. It may be hard but it’s not impossible, nearly impossible but not absolutely impossible. According to the list, there’s 1 in 3 chances that it will go well. That’s a good 33% chance. Besides, what’s the worst that can happen, right? It’s not like I’m going to kill you (unless there are deadly devices around or you’re drinking coffee or wearing shoes and have the intention of talking about how the celebrity couple broke up). Anyway, my point in all this is: I don’t get it when you tell me that I’m unapproachable ’cause as you can see, there are a lot of ways that you can approach me, only it’s hard and needs precise timing. But still, not unapproachable. So to you people out there that still bother to remember my name and does not shirk whenever I am around, I implore you to reconsider calling me unapproachable. I’m approachable, really.

I just thought I’d post something today since today is an uncommon day. It’s so uncommon, it’s only happened a few times. I like this day. It’s very special to me.

You see, I have this thing with patterns and symmetry. Though I am not borderline mental or OC about it, I like how things make a pattern.

Anyway, I like today since it’s the tenth day of October on this year 2010. It’s not really much if you think about it but it still is unique in it’s ways.

10/10/10. That’s why. Today’s date has a pattern. A unique pattern that only happens once every century. That pattern will only happen 100 years from now. There have been patterns in the last few years and 2 more coming. 01/01/01, 02/02/02, 03/03/03 have all been patterns.

Anyway, that’s just it. The date makes a pattern. It makes me happy.

Well, there goes that resolve. I don’t know why I’m even like this. Probably because I’m a stupid obsessive asshole who can’t take a hint. Green’s here today… completely visible from where I’m sitting. When I pass by her area I just get a tiny hint of her scent and it drives me wild. My decision to avoid her completely makes me want to stab myself with an ice pick for thinking that I could pull that off. I’ve never been good at going cold turkey and seeing her everyday doesn’t help it one bit.

When I pass by her terminal, I see her typing slowly and makes me ache that I can’t sit by her side to hear those slow taps that fill me with joy. I sit and see her face, the monitor giving her already glowing face a little more glow. I could stare at her the whole day and not get tired. Every song I hear makes me think about Green and every song seems to be about her, about me liking her, about me not able to be with her. I see how her eyes move reading the stuff in the monitor, wishing that I were those words she sees. I even get stupid quotes in my head and contemporize then into stupid sounding ones. No, I won’t say those what those are. I may be desperately head over heels but I think I still have my judgment. (Actually, I was going to put one but after rereading it… it was just sad and stupid.)

Our eyes sometimes meet and in the few microseconds that it takes for me to look away, I am filled with all the joy when I realize that I have the good luck of being alive and this close to her. Yet, I am also filled with all the sadness when I realize that I can never stare into those eyes and drown myself in them. I think back on the few times that I could have made our time together wonderful but didn’t and I fall just a little farther down my already deep hole of misery.

Day 011

Wouldn’t you know it… It seems Fate likes to torture me with confusing signs. I can’t sit in my normal row recently since the Basis team are here. Now I sit in the row in front of my normal row which brings me closer to Green. Yeah. Something I look so forward to.

Then yesterday, well… yesterday there was something that was going to happen that would have given me the chance to make an ultimatum with Green. It would have made me decide whether I ultimately tell her that I like her and wait for a reaction or not tell her I like her and just continue to blatantly ignore her or to tell her I’m going cold turkey on her because I like her so much. I was looking forward to it as much as a convict on death row does his judgment day. But still, it was a thing I wanted to do so I can actually just get it over it. And Fate knew that. And I’m sure you’ve guessed by now what happened.

Anyway, now I’m absolutely sure that Green knows I’m avoiding her. What I’m not sure of is how she feels about it. She’s avoiding me now too so I guess she’s fine with it. Before when she looks around at her surroundings she would still look in my direction. Now, she skips it. Before I think she still looks at me from her peripheral vision, now I know she doesn’t. I guess I do know how she feels about it.

*Sigh* How I miss being to stare at her while she typed away, smiling. Now I can’t do that for fear that she might see me looking at her and she’s gonna know why I avoid her. It will look bad. Very bad. These are the kinds of situations that even one small assumption can be catastrophic.

There’s something that really pisses me off and that is now that I don’t go near her anymore, some other bastard sits next to her. Though he’s not interested in her, the fact that I hate the bastard since his a pompous ass (or I make him out to be a pompous, I’m not sure. Scratch that, he is.) and that he shares more time with Green even though he doesn’t treasure it as much as I would.

Sorry if this thing is in shambles and the flow of thoughts are in disarray. I am typing as things happen and as feelings surge. I like her high cheek bones. Damn. Before I could be so close to her I could probably reach out and touch her and she would let me. We sat so close that even if I didn’t mean to, I would see her. Now, I strain my eye muscles just so I’d see her hand typing away. She has a funny laugh.

She’s doing that stupid thing she does. I keep teasing her about it but she does it anyway. I like her because of that.

I’ve asked a friend about what I should do and he told me not to tell her. Do you know that thing when you think you don’t know which to choose between two things because you think either are just as okay to do as the other so then you ask someone to decide for you so they choose one for you and when you hear the decision it makes you sad and think that they chose wrong? It’s stupid really. I have this thing that when I’m faced with a choice of two things and that I don’t know which to choose, I flip a coin. This helps me about 90% of the time. There are just choices like “regular or large fries” that a coin can be helpful with. However, there is also the 10% that it doesn’t work and those are questions you already know the answer to but you don’t want to see it embodied, much less in a coin.

So now, I know that not telling her is not what I want. I want to tell her. But I can’t. Won’t. Can’t. I don’t know. I want her to know but I know that will change everything and my guts says it’s going to change for the worse. So do I still want to tell her? I don’t know. I don’t think I can. Sometimes I just hope she finds out and she shows me signs of how she feels about it. Or not. Argh!

(Brace yourself. This is going to be a long one.)

This is probably one of the most popular and repeated “love quote” in the world. Though after reading some more of the poem, I found out it isn’t about love and losing it but rather a requiem. I find that the line, even out of context, means the same. Losing someone’s love is about as devastating for me as that person’s death. Probably even more so.

When someone you love is a person who loves you back is the most wonderful thing in the world. Nothing could be greater than knowing that all your love is being returned with equal strength. But when that someone dies, one would think that the love has ended. I don’t think so. The love you two have for each other will forever be there, albeit no physical manifestations. I find that the love will be immortalize as the people who know you both will forever say that there was a love like no other. That the last person that you loved had loved only you. And time will come that you two will be together again.

But when the person you love suddenly tells you that he/she loves you no more, that would be a tragedy of unequal pain. That that person has consciously decided that he/she loves you no more is something only a few can handle. To know that you love him/her but that he/she rejects your love for whatever reason is the saddest thing a person has to live with. Even after all attempts to claim back that love and still you fail, that for me is the lowest point in anyone’s life.

So no, I don’t think that death is worse than losing someone’s love. I think that losing someone’s love because they said so is much much more terrible. Which brings me to why I wrote this. Is it really better to have love and lost than to not have loved at all?

You may be wondering why I am now down in this rut called “being emo” when there were no signs recently that I should be in this state? Well, it’s because I have ultimately decided that I would stop admiring someone because I know that nothing will become of it. It was just last week, I just stared into space and said, “No more.”

I am 25 now and it’s been a long and harrowing life, at least the last decade. I have loved a lot and I have lost a lot. I’ve been burned, ignored, replaced, forgotten, pushed, and whatever forms of rejection there is. A lot. I cannot emphasize that enough. Of the 10 years I tried to have a relationship, only one lasted significantly and that didn’t even end well. Unfortunately for me, I don’t take hints very well and even after all those experiences I still have hope that I would find love. With all I’ve been through, you would think that I would have given up by now. I haven’t. I have friends who’ve been in 7 year relationships then broke up but are still at it. I have friends who’ve been in the relationship game longer than I have and still haven’t lost all hope. So why should I? I still think that there’s love and someone out there for me.

But not from that one person, Green. Yeah, I bestowed that person I have given up on the name, “Green.” I don’t know why.

I first met Green on a regular day, a day just like any other. The moment I saw her, I knew that I will like her. And I did. We talked a few times, teased each other a few times, greeted each other a few times, smiled at each other a few times. Sigh. A few times to many, if you ask me. I knew even only after those few times of interactions that I like Green more than I did others. So, in spite the blaring sirens in my head saying no, I said to myself, “Why not try for love again?”. I should listen to myself more often.

No sooner had I decided to open up my heart for the possibilities of love that I saw the hopelessness of it all. First, it was the subtle, “I don’t see you in that way” remarks that I found cute and challenging, before I saw them for what they were. Then it was the competition. Here I was thinking I had dibs when suddenly there were 3 others (now 4, I think) with the same gleaming eyes of hope that I had. I didn’t have time to flatter myself into thinking that it was equal competition that I found out I was third at best. That is considering only those that I know are after her. Then lastly, though still connected with the second thing, I found out that we had not much in common. That is, relative to the others who also liked Green. The others were into the same things with Green. They even do those things regularly even if the others have had spent equal time with Green as I had.

I held on the glimmer of hope for a while until last week. (As of the writing of this sentence, Green just came into the room. Filling me with more sorrow and irony that I had in a while.) I don’t know what triggered it. Perhaps it was the passing smile that she showed me. Looking at that smile and thinking that that smile will never be meant for me and me alone made my heart shed a tear. Something my heart doesn’t do often for a reason. It hurts as hell. Perhaps it was the gravity of the situation, the thought that I could have done more to show Green that I like her like I like the sun after a rainy weekend. That I would do everything that I can just so I could see her smile everyday. Perhaps, I just lost hope. Perhaps my brain overrode my heart and logically gave up. Perhaps… Perhaps… I don’t know.

Is it really OK to love knowing that you will lose? Is it really worth the pain of losing, of being rejected, of being told by the person you love doesn’t love you back? Is it really better to love knowing you would lose it than to simply push yourself to forget about that love?

The only sure thing I know is that when this article ends, I would have exerted everything that I will ever exert to tell Green that I like her. I choose to not love Green anymore than to love her and lose her. I have been hurt too many times and the signs in the pursuit of this particular person says nothing but hurt and misery.

But I also know that I do have feelings for Green. Even if I know nothing will come out of the next part, I know just have to try one last time. This will be the last act I will do to let Green know. I will give those two lines above a chance to prove me wrong. That it is better to have at least loved even though you lost than to not have been loved at all. In the next part, I wish to tell her that, in spite of the pain, a part of me wants to have even the fleetest moment of our hearts beating as one. Maybe I can stretch that moment into forever. That maybe I don’t have to lose her. But the pain of losing her is far too great for me to bear. So, this is the last shout you’ll ever hear from my heart.

Perhaps it’s not a good idea to even think me as someone to love. Heck, all the rules, morals, and the whole of this Earth says it’s not supposed to be. I think otherwise. Looking into your eyes and seeing you smile tells me that even if I die tomorrow, my life would have been worth it. Let me show you what I can do to make you happy. I know that you are worth loving with all the I am. Please, give me a chance to show you how much I love you.

Right now you may have noticed that I am avoiding you. Ever since I decided that I have been burned enough times, I always do this to the protect myself. You may think it rude but even if I am acting like this, it only means I like you more than enough to know that if this doesn’t end well, despair will consume me.

Can you give me chance? At least for a while, tell me that I have a chance even for a while? Be it a week, a day or even just an hour, can I love you? All that I have, all that I can do, I will give and show you in that week, day or hour. Read my heart, and it will say: “Do you think that you can let me love you? Or at least can you pretend that I can love you even for a while?”

That’s it. That’s the last time I will ever do anything to show you that I have feelings for you. If this article doesn’t reach you, then I guess… well. Never mind. If it does reach you… well. Yeah. I like you.

There’s this Globe promo contest that let’s you choose one person to be your Super One. That is, you can call and text (not at the same time, mind you. It’s not only hard to do, it’s also pointless) anytime you want for as long and as many times as you want. It’s a great feature and all but I have to say, that’s a tough call.

Having to choose one among your plethora of friends and family you can turn into your inseparable mobile phone soulmate is just not something you can do as easily as blinking. In my case, I’d probably be able to learn how to lobotomize someone before I can confidently say that there’s only one person worthy to be my super one. (Note the sutble difference between “super one” and “Super One” in the article.)

I mean, there’s my dad.

Now he’s a good candidate to be my super one. One, he’s a super dad and two, he’s a big source of *ahem* income *ahem*. He’s really cool and always calls me to ask how I’m doing with work and stuff. Aside from choosing my super dad to be my super one, he’s also a great Super One because think about it, being able to call and ask for money anytime you want would be great.

Then there’s my mom.

She’s going to be a fantastic super one ’cause she she watches a lot of lifestyle shows and reads a lot of magazines about home and comforts and stuff. She’s super since you can ask her help about anything. Even if I pride myself in saying that I know a lot of stuff, I still have a lot to learn, like how and where to store cooked pasta or how to remove a weird stain or how to get rid of roaches. She’s also a great Super One because having the helping super mom a text away would be priceless.

There’s also my sister.

She’s a fantastic candidate since she picks up after me when I get lazy. I mean, I like doing chores when I’m in the mood and I am good at it too but sometimes I am just too lethargic to even bother folding up my clothes before sending it to the laundry. She’s super at cleaning up messes I won’t even consider touching with a ten foot pole. She’s going to be a great super one as well as a Super One because I get lethargic a lot. XP

Then there’s my brother.

We’ve never been really close when we were young but now that we’re older, we seem to have a connection. He’s currently the one left at (provincial) home with my parents. He’s the one who’s “taking care” of them… you know what I mean. Anyway, he’s a fantastic brother and a great Super One so that I can check up on not only him but also my parents.

Then there’s my dog. Oh wait… no, not him. He’s super and all but you’ve got to meet him to appreciate. LOL.

There’s also my friends.

They are great. Fantastic. Super. Each one knowledgable in his/her own field. Some are funny, some are unfortunately not. Some are spenders and some are se… wait… let’s go with “trifty”. Some are wise and some are just learning. They all have a reason to become my super one’s as well as Super One’s but I bet they’d pesk me with questions why I chose one over the other so might as well put them in the list of “not-so-wise-choices” together with my dog. XD

But then among your friends, there’s bound to be best friends. The friend who’ve been with you longer, the friend who you have been with through the best and the worst of each other’s lives, the friend who you can always call on for help and in turn you will help when they need it. I have a friend like that and I pick him as my Super One.

He’s Chairell Winston C. Almendras.

Most know him as Winston and in the online world as Batang Yagit but I call him, Tei. I don’t know if it’s the correct term or what but I’ve read somewhere that it means younger brother in Japanese. Ever since we met in 2005, he’s always been my younger brother (one I bestowed that I will take care of other than my actual younger brother). We currently live at the same place and I could not imagine a better housemate. If I’m low on cash, he’s ready to lend some. If I’m sick he’s more than willing to do my share of the chores. Because of him, I’m now more sociable than I was and I have a lot of friends in Manila now. I choose him as my super one because he is SUPER. You can ask anyone and they’ll say the same thing. I also choose him as my super one since having to be able to call or text the friend that you can always count on is just super. Why, you say, even above my family and the friends who will undoubtedly create a riot because I choose someone else over them will I choose him? Well, family is great and I’d never trade them for anyone else but in this time in my life, the closer proximity of Winston is a whole lot helpful (and it will be even more so when I choose him as my Super One). He’s also the more “generous” among my friends (ahem ahem… friends… there’s a subtle hit there… you know… about the quote generosity unquote part…), not only with financial needs but also his time. So there, my super one and Super One is Tei. =)

The layout of the place is great though confusing at first since the CSR people are hidden behind the display cases and posters, nothing a couple of visits won’t solve. I have not tried their service yet since I have had no need for it. They also offer free WiFi connection for customers in queue (and I bet leeches…), plenty of comfy (well, comfy-looking, I haven’t tried it) chairs, and an interactive touch screen panel that offers FAQ’s like plans and services. Another plus for me since I’m not really big on asking CSRs for mundane questions especially if it entails having to wait in line.

Globe removed the silly dummy preview devices that only gives you the idea of the size of a device but not how it works or even the weight. They have replaced it with demo units that actually works and shows you what the devices can do sans phone connectivity. You won’t have to bother the busy CSRs to just try a phone that you plan to buy in XX months to your heart’s content. They even have multiple demo devices so you won’t need to wait for your turn unless an idiot hogs all the space. Though I do understand the security risks, I have qualms about their choice of anti-theft methods. They are just way too sensitive and the distance that you can pull the device from it’s cradle is too short that you have to bend and lean on the display table to see and test the device properly (well, for me anyway. Bad eyesight). And after 2 or 3 accidental alarms, the security looks at you suspiciously (which I understand but don’t appreciate). They have the top of the line devices displayed which is good since they are most of the time the rarest devices to have demo units in stores. They have devices such as iPads, iPhones, Blackberries, and some Samsung and Nokia high end phones. They also have accessories, like headsets and cases, for various devices.

Head on to the 2nd floor of Greenbelt 4 and visit the new Globe Store.

The last time I was in Cebu was 3 years ago. Ever since then I have always wanted to go back but there was never anytime. Well, this weekend I will have the oppurtunity to go back to the Cebu. What’s even better is that I’m joining Cebu Blog Camp 2010. I won’t just get to go back Cebu but I get to meet other bloggers as well.

Aside from my ticket and lodging (ahem ahem), everything is made possible by our great sponsors:

The Cebu Blog Camp 2010

is co-presented by

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Winston Delawar Photography, a Premiere South Florida Wedding Photographer

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Cebu Blog Camp 2010 is an event organized by a group of Cebu Bloggers.

I have habits that are borderline anal and some that are tolerable as eccentric. Take for instance my habit of arranging my money. I like to have all my paper bills (Is this redundant? Kindly correct me.) and sometimes even my coins in a certain way. I can say it’s not that obsessive since I only want them to be arranged from smallest to highest in terms of denomination. When that is done, the ones of the same denominations are arranged from oldest, crumpliest, dirtiest to newest, crispiest and cleanest. Also they must be all “facing” outward with one common ground. Meaning, the faces must…uhm… face forward and that they are all in the upright positions. Really, it’s not that obsessive. I mean, I don’t do that to the coins since they just roll around anyway, so no use in having them upright. They still have to be facing the same way and must be arranged by increasing amounts though.

See, I am not mental. I am completely sane. There’s this other thing though. I can’t and will often not use utensils if they are not “pairs”. To be more specific, if the make, material, color, weight and/or design of the fork is not the same as the spoon, one has to go depending on what I am about to eat. I can sense the ever so slight difference in the weight of the utensils and that bothers me. The thing that bugs me the most is if the one has an intricate design and the other is just plain. I would sooner use my hands than the unpaired utensils. (This is not really a pairing issue, but since I’m already talking about utensils…) Then there’s the plastic utensils. It not only uses fossil fuels to produce, it also causes pollution. Oh, and they are harder and flimsier to use than the severed foot(claw?talon?) of a chicken… not that I ever tried using that. There are just times that I do use unpaired utensils such as when I choose not to be rude to the homeowner or my hunger brings me to the brink of bad judgment. So if you have plans on feeding me, make sure you have matching utensils or serve finger friendly food.

I am the picture of perfect mental health. Not a sign of psychological instability in sight. Oh, and I almost always never pass through anything triangular. Things such as ladders leaning on walls, guy wires of electrical/telephone posts, angled beams, fallen trees leaning on walls, the Eiffel Tower, the Pyramids of Giza… Ahem… Right. Anyway, yeah… I don’t pass through anything triangular in shape. This roots from the belief that walking under a ladder gives you bad luck. I know it’s silly but I believe in certain superstitions especially if they are generally harmless and more on just having something odd to believe in. Don’t worry, I don’t believe in sacrificing virgins… seeing as they are just a few of us left. Just the normal, non-crazy superstitions for me. Like not cutting nails during the night or not opening umbrellas indoors or if someone taps you must tap them back. I don’t want to spoil your fun, so I won’t tell you the reasons and histories of these superstitions. Look them up yourself and see if you are as sane as me.

No strait-jackets, no sedatives for me. I am just your normal everyday Joe. A normal Joe that folds and itemizes every piece of clothing before I bring them to the laundry shop. Yeah, I must have all articles of clothing tagged, logged, noted and finally folded properly before I have them laundered. The list must indicate the quantity, color, material, size, any distinctive marks and brand/manufacturer of the item. I don’t want other people wearing my shirts and much worse *aghast* me wearing theirs.

Really, those things I mentioned above can be present in anyone. Who wouldn’t want to have an organize wallet? Who would be comfortable using a plastic spoon paired with a silver plated fork? Who would want to reuse a table napkin with spaghetti sauce all over it? Well, you’re own spaghetti sauce on your own napkin. I mean, when I eat at a fast food chain then I eat something with sauce or anything that leaves residue on my face then I wipe it with an unused table napkin/tissue, I don’t reuse that napkin/tissue again. Even if it’s still clean on the other side, I most often won’t use it again. I know it’s a waste of paper, kills a lot of trees and is expensive but I just can’t help crumpling an already used napkin/tissue. There are only 2 times I reuse a table napkin/tissue and that’s if it’s the expensive one with a gazillion plies and (of course) given to you sparingly by the establishment and if the sauce if splattered across your face and the nearest available clean napkin/tissue is 3 tables away. Other than that, gimme them table napkins/tissues.

So you see, I am weird but I am far from being hell-bent obsessive. I can still control these habits and can still smile perfectly even if my brain is screaming, “Sacrilege! Blasphemy!” Now leave me alone while I make sure that my shoe laces are lined up equally.