If I work at Intel™ and got sucked up its mainframe ...

Which File Extension are You?


Which OS are You?

Hee hee. This is what I get for having too much time.

My so-called life

Fresh out of school and still unemployed, I’d spend my mornings (or what remained of it after waking up late) and afternoons in front of the boob tube, surfing the internet, or wearing out my kid brother’s PS joystick. Once in a while, my mum would drag me out of the house to carry her grocery bags for her, or whenever she wants someone to lock arms with while touring Watson’s and Rustan’s. A particularly active day would involve a pre-employment exam (which often turns out to be an Otis-Lennon sat) or a screening interview. On weekend nights, I burn nets with local buddies in a nearby covered court. With a few variations here and there (a long shower, to name a few), my week is basically that. Lang.

Noon, I would rave about all those TV specials I frequently miss. I’d repeatedly squeeze in from one to two hours of review/study time so I could watch HBO and play online games. In the guise of Inhinyero/Logscript work, I’d stay up late at night to laugh at Leno’s jokes and catch up on metropolitan chismis. I could still do that now, and more. But somehow something ain’t right. I seem to feel like I can’t enjoy them properly anymore. There are some things missing that make procrastination such an enjoyable activity (or non-activity, depending on how you look at it).

I miss drinking caffeine for a reason (thesis paper due tomorrow), or using google productively (like “fitting” data on lab work I skipped). I miss the sugar high minutes before exams. I miss checking my email for uploaded homework and advance cheat sheets. Also the sense of accomplishment one gets with a thoroughly-researched submission. And of course, I miss looking forward to goofing off on Saturdays knowing fully well I’d have to resort to cramming everything else on Sunday night.

Clearly, unlimited net and cable TV are all too overrated. I found out that they’re fun insofar as you’ve got better things to do with your time. Otherwise, they can be boring as hell. Eventually your flow goes through a transition stage (ala kinse, my fellow engineers), and everything becomes topsy-turvy. Un-fun things like writing or reading or organizing your desktop become fun, while traditionally fun things like watching TV and lounging about the house become un-fun. Roles become reversed and as time passes by, you lie awake in bed wondering what is going wrong… and why.

Funny, I used to go to bed early as a means of evading the day’s troubles and responsibilities. Now, I go to sleep because on hindsight, it’s the only interesting thing left to do. That’s how super bland my typical day has become. It’s not a tough living but hey, you know of a better hole? I’ll crawl into it.

Now if I had a little less prudence, I’d wish I had a job now para I could start enjoying life again. However, herein lies a subtle irony… and an opportunity to see the upside (or rather, the sole benefit) of graduating behind schedule. You tend to have friends in the workforce already. And judging from what I see and hear at times we bump into one another, err… well, let’s just say it makes you think of that old adage: “Be careful what you wish for…”

So I guess my wishes would have to wait, I’ll try to enjoy my so-called life for a little while longer Ü

Farewell, Eng'g... 

To all things comes an end...

To all things comes an end.

We are no more than a character in a story,
our lives easily extinguished by a 1.0 or a 5.0…


Turn the page and thousands die. And for what?
For the pride of distinction and a sense of noble destiny.


As we march through a maze of moments,
One day, a fortnight… through years.


We step, some fall, most falter.
With a dream to find new worlds beyond familiar fences.


A dazzling gleam!
Another turn of the page.

Graduation creates drama, inspiration and relives tragedy.
And rewards exploits of acumen too.

And just when it seems we have reached the end,
we flip the page once more.
And we take the turn… the turn that will begin… a new beginning.

Is this the end of our tale? No, we are the pawns of fate.
There are still many pages to turn.

And to all things comes a beginning.


-
-- Wrote this for the Inhinyero 2004 yearbook last year. It failed to make the cut, and another, more poignant piece (which i co-wrote) got the nod. Still, I felt this one was loads better (well... riiiight, I wrote the whole thing anyway). Especially now that I could finally live through every single word of it.

-
-- Wooo!!! Graduate na ako mwahahahaha! Ü

The Twelve Songs

Arrived at school in the company of El Guerrero with one hour to spare. Cram at his tambayan. Didn’t get anything in my head, wanna sleep...

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone

Evolution trumps into assigned room for “strategic positioning.” Darn, some girl I haven’t seen in class ever beats me to my favorite window seat. Made a mental note to throw her off the landing after the exam.

Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,

Last-minute ditching and smokescreen operations prevent El Guerrero’s re-deployment. Viva la raza!

Silence the pianos and with muffled drum,

We brace ourselves for the exam to end ALL exams, in a last alliance between elves and men, err... Focus! Concentrate, doggarned it…

Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

With half an hour to go, we go over our voluminous answer sheets looking for anything that remotely resembled paramount stupidity.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one;

Our lovable professor walks in and I quote, “20 minutes!”

Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,

What was that formula again??? Aagh… whattatimeformetoforgetit… ndeakobabagsakndeakobabagsakndeakobabagsak…

ES12 was my North, my South, my East and West

My seatmate stood up to pass his papers.

My working week and my Sunday rest,

Stole a glance at my cel while recomputing my solutions for the twelvth time. I notice that the eighth digit on my calcu’s LCD is broken. Uh-oh…

My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;

Panic!

I thought Do-se would last forever: I was wrong.

Fortunately, all values are correct (-whew!-). I submit my papers in six separate boxes:

Fate, Hope, Charity, Luck, Reason and Destiny.

My prof is sporting an absurd smile, but I digress.

Haaay… I get exam results tomorrow.

postcript --- thanks to all who worried with me this past week… *sniff*
I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you. =p

Wooo!!! Bakasyon na, hahaha.

Look out, world. Here we come Ü

What will Ü B in Pisay 20-oh-8?

Pilfered from a friend presently based in Singapore,

At your ten year high school reunion...
Your school name
Your name
Your job will be	President of a small country
You will be worth	$476,114
Everyone will think you	are a snob
Quiz created with MemeGen!

Wahehe, at least they got the last bit right... Err, see you guys in 2008! Ü

What Me Worry?

Oh great, I’ve managed to catch flu again. A runny nose, an aching head and a cannister of Kleenex™ are just what I'd be needing at this time of the year. Right smack when I’ve got hosts of exams literally knocking on my doorstep. At my age, I tell you! Exams, knocking on my doorstep. Argh…

Not that I’m alone. I may be the only one stupid enough to go down with flu, but others stuck in the hell hole called Eng’g are on a bad war footing as well. Cases of frustrated homicide and nervous breakdowns have been reported all over the college—well murderous tendencies and dementia aren’t known to be contagious, but people are panicking anyway. We’ve got a plague right here, the epicenter of which is the Department of Engineering Sciences. Nothing compares to it, not even Black Death (or Math building, for that matter). While the oriental rat flea killed millions of people, at least they all stayed dead. ES, on the other hand, turns you into the living dead, which is much worse. That explains the dearth of zombie-like carriers skulking around Melchor’s nooks and crannies three hours before any ES exam. And while plagues no longer pack the punch they used to, I think I’ll worry about them just the same.

Exams and ES. ES exams. It’s not as if I didn’t have enough stuff to worry about—graduating, poverty, getting through a job interview, poverty, earning a living, poverty. And don’t forget love life, now there’s a subject everyone seems to be occupied about.

Do you think I worry too much?

Well, lemme see now…

I wake up one morning and discover I’m already twenty-three (Wait, doggarned it! Didn’t I just turn twenty yesterday!?).

I wake up one morning and there’s no breakfast, only lunch.

I wake up one morning, only it’s already evening.

I wake up one morning only to turn over and wait for the next one.

In any case, I think worrying has it plus points. You see, whenever you worry about something, chances are it probably won’t happen. Like, worrying about my last horror exam prevents it from returning a failing grade. If I worry about being holdupped in a jeepney full of suspicious-looking construction workers, it won’t happen. If I worry about getting drenched because I forgot to bring my payong along, it won’t happen. But heck, even if it does, I get consuelo de bobo: the right to say: “’Sabi ko na nga ba eh!”

So start worrying about things you don’t want to happen. If enough people worry about it, maybe IT WON'T HAPPEN.

Now while you’re at it, could you help me worry about my finals this week?

That's it, folks! Roll the credits...

Ever seen that Pringles™ commercial, “once you pop, you can’t stop”?

Well, that pretty much sums up my first encounter with blogging. Minutes after publishing my first entry, I found myself navigating back to my blog page again and again and again. Over the next half hour, my post would undergo a score of revisions, expurgation and embellishments.

It’s crazy!

Absolutely ridiculous.

And it’s only beginning. Ü