I haven't seen you in such a long time. I hope it stays that way.

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Here's a link I want to dedicate to Edgie Leandro:
http://www.ratemyfinger.com/ratemy/finger

And this one's for Gney:
http://www.ratemybunny.com/


DISCLAIMER: I won't be responsible for whatever happens if you do decide to click the links below.

Here's where you can rate boobies:
http://www.ratemyboobies.com/ratemy/boobies (rating boobies is actually more boring than you think).

You don't want to click the link below:
http://www.ratemyboner.com/ratemy/boner

Here too:
http://www.ratemypoo.com/ratemy/poo

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Only because some of you will be cramming for gifts (two weeks after my birthday has passed), and because some of you are actually good friends, you can get me the following if you feel compelled to (toys are PhP400 each, CDs are PhP550, except the White Album):

Fantastic 4 Movie Flying Human Torch - thanks ronan!
Fantastic 4 Movie Shape Shifting Mr Fantastic - thanks jepoy!
Fantastic 4 Movie Clobber 'n Crush Thing - thanks to the anonymous arabs
Dual Web Swinging Spider-man (any toy store)

Beatles CDs (in order of preference; any record store)
Abbey Road - thanks ferlin and cris!
Magical Mystery Tour
White Album
Revolver
Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band
Let It Be
(Beatles Anthology) - thanks janet!

If you really love me:
Anakin Skywalker Color-change Lightsaber (PhP1200, out of stock unless you're lucky)
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Battle Shell - thanks rainy, yheng, gardo and emillie! (even if most of you should be exempted)

This is to ensure that none of your gifts get recycled (with toy collecting being pretty much a snooze-and-lose hobby). Thank you for your kind consideration. If you don't have job at present, you can use that excuse and we'll still be friends.

This being a registry, and the listed gifts pretty much being available everywhere, please leave a comment below so you can reserve the right to give them to me (how self-absorbed is that???). I promise, in turn, not to read the comments because: a.) I want to be surprised (I will act surprised, promise), and b.) there will be not-so-nice comments about this self-absorbed post (I swear I only got the idea from JoQ, please send all the hate mail her way instead).

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The doctor's instructions were simple... whenever I feel a slight irritation in the general area of my windpipe, I should just drink a glass of cold water. I have already downed eleven glasses so far. Not exempt from the biological principle of 'what comes in must go out,' I have been visiting the little boys' room every fifteen minutes or so, emptying my overworked bladder like I would a runny pressure tank. I caught the creepy technical support geezer checking into a cubicle once and caught him checking out only after I returned for another leak. That's a mother-load, I thought. I realized then that it's probably a big effort on his part to loose his bowels, having a sphincter that is obviously clenched tighter than a dam valve. It also takes a lot of exertion, probably, for him to extract his head from his rectum since it seems to have been lodged in pretty deep. I hope the doctor can prescribe me something for whenever I feel a slight irritation for his general person. For the meantime though, I'll just be drinking glass number twelve.

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There is a Turkish cinematic phenomenon of ripping off well known blockbusters. These 'interpretations' usually depict American icons in a uniquely local way (for lack of a harsher term), and the intentions probably lose a bit of their significance given a limited understanding of Turkish culture, but these exploit movies are probably the unintentionally funniest movies that you can ever catch. They are 'serious' movies, by the way, and not parodies.

Known rip-offs include the Turkish Star Wars, Superman (Supermen, more like), Star Trek, and even a version of the Wizard of Oz. What's interesting about all this is the fact that most of the time, they only bother to rip off the costumes - badly at that - without particular regard for the actual characters' stories. It also merits mentioning that these movies usually splice in actual footage from the films they are aping (sometimes from other related movies), especially for tricky effects shots. Not only that, these exploit movies are especially violent, which is where most of the humor comes in, given that the level of violence they portray is similar to that of 70s B-movies but done with an even smaller budget. Lastly, there is the local action hero, Cüneyt Arkin. Arguably the Turkish equivalent of FPJ, Jackie Chan, Carlo J. Caparas and Errol Flynn combined, he's practically in every Turkish movie ever produced (IMDB lists 244 actor credits). It's a quirky cinematic culture, to say the least, but I'm quite sure that the Ottomans will have a good time laughing at Filipino movies as well, as they seem to have a weird sense of humor anyway.

Anyway, thanks to a link my friend sent me a long time ago, I'm sharing a personal favorite, pitting Captain America and Santo (a well-known Mexican luchador) against the evil Spider-man. The review is particularly funny. Enjoy!

http://www.i-mockery.com/minimocks/3devadam/default.php

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It's been over a week since I launched this page, and the timing probably drew a bunch of questions, particularly 'Why?' I've been actually meaning to start a blog since two years ago, but given my pronounced potential for procrastination, I only managed to complete the entire project last week. Surprisingly, it only took me less than a week since I picked it up again.

I love to write although I hardly make a big deal out of it. As much as possible, I don't like to express any opinions that may give off an air of pretense. On top of that, I'm pretty much a reserved person (despite your current raised eyebrow), and I avoid giving out too many details about my personal life. I rarely found opportunities to write after I finished college, but the few chances where I was able to flex my writing muscle drew steroidal feedback from my friends. They, in turn, kept asking me for a blog. I kept refusing, knowing I probably wouldn't enjoy being read, especially for the reason of critique. I guess I finally discovered a positive voice, possibly even a maturity in my general disposition, where I can just shed my insecurities and be my perceived self without regard for what people might think of me. If you don't like me, then I don't see any reason at all why I should like you anyway.

I also like to have fun (no secret there), and I find that despite having many petty pursuits, I am really addicted to the company of people I love. Of course, having been thrown about in all directions during the past ten years or so, I have hardly kept in constant contact with these people. Unwelcome developments have necessitated unwelcome changes, and if I can't possibly keep in touch with everyone on a regular basis, at least I can still let them know that I'm still alive, even in the more-or-less sense of the term. This doesn't mean that I'll be calling, emailing or texting you less, it only means that you'll be able to check up on me whenever you like by visiting here.

The year thus far has been an eventful one. I did find myself in several occasions wishing that I had a blog. I do have some old 'posts' stored in some places and I think I can now post them retroactively here. I used to scoff at people who can 'only express themselves through writing.' I still don't see how that is possible, and maybe it is a big problem for them if that was their only means of expression, although I can partly see where they're coming from. Just like singer-songwriters who 'write songs for themselves,' I think it's therapeutic to have a throng, however faceless, to speak to, not to mention connect with. This isn't the only means for me to express myself, nor my best way of doing so, although it is the most convenient one for the moment, so you'll just have to bear with my vanities.

I do expect to post more sporadically during the upcoming months. If things go as I intend, this will be a good thing because it will mean that my life will have gotten more boring. Boring is good. It's almost even a luxury these days.

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May you resolve your personal issues soon... I'm merely assuming there are issues, of course.

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Still doesn't mean that I like you.

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Blood is wrong. Just as much, phlegm is also wrong. Putting them together reads wrong as well but with a pronounced stammer right when you're supposed to panic. This is me panicking. Seeing those two together with pee in the urinal gave me the chance to discover some other bodily fluids that very instant. That's also wrong on so many levels. Officially, I just burst some bronchial capillaries. Unofficially, I'm just scared shitless. That's enough biological secretions for one post, I think.

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I heard Nina's latest remake on the way to work this morning. It's about as welcome as being stabbed in the testicles with a blunt spork. Repeatedly. She should know she's better than just merely being a covers artist.

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I kept this bookmarked for over two years now.
Best Ebay Feedback Page Ever

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Check this out you must (thanks to Cybs):
http://www.storewars.org/flash/index.html

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To say that the aforementioned lactic compound smells like bad cheese is an understatement. It smells more like partially digested cheese jammed between your toes. I have a forehead plied with this miraculous stuff... I say, if it does wonders for worse cases, then it should work for my hairline.

For those who care to read, here's the conclusion to the bit about the ten birthday albums.

6.) Shelter (The Brand New Heavies) - My former bandmates turned me onto this particular band. BNH are essentially three British guys (a drummer, a guitarist and a bassist) with a revolving door setup for the vocalist. Before I discovered BNH and the Acid Jazz genre/label, I was listening to contemporary rock for the most part. It did help me to have a broader taste in music, and BNH in turn made me appreciate their influences (being classic American soul and funk). This album was the last proper BNH album released here in the Philippines (the greatest hits album doesn't count). The vocalist for Shelter was Siedah Garrett, better known for singing with Michael Jackson on 'I Just Can't Stop Loving You.' She brought a different, mature sound to BNH, where, despite their evident musical skills, they used to sound less confident on previous albums. This was the only album that featured her on vocals, and it's almost a shame when you listen to the tracks 'Sometimes,' 'Crying Water,' 'Last to Know' and especially 'Stay Gone,' being my absolute favorite on this one. The band is in fine form throughout the album as well, and the songwriting is consistently good. Jan Kincaid's relaxed vocal turns on 'Shelter' and 'After Forever' also deserve special mention, providing a stark contrast with Siedah's vocal gymnastics. The great thing about BNH is that they manage to own their genre without losing the essential elements that defined their influences. It must be noted that the genre is also sometimes called 'rare groove,' which is a more appropriate one, I think, especially if you took it literally. It is somewhat ironic that a British band ended up carrying the American-pioneered sound better than their stateside counterparts. I also have to point out, lastly, that this is the only album that the girlfriend and I can listen to in the car without any disagreement, thus ensuring me with a quick fix during bad moments.

7&8.) Back in Black & Highway to Hell (AC/DC) - It's been said that AC/DC has pretty much been playing the same song for more than 20 years, except it's been a particularly good song. This is rawk at its rawest and raunchiest, and AC/DC is arguably Australia's best contribution to rock music. I can't point out particular favorites on these two albums because I often play them from start to finish. I remember listening to these two albums in sequence while driving to and from my current office just when I was starting work there (yes, the drive took that long but they were both really short albums). AC/DC broke through internationally with Highway to Hell after taking on producer Mutt Lange (aka Mr. Shania Twain). Vocalist Bon Scott, who one can describe as a drunk, lecherous, juvenile bastard in a complimentary way, was one of rock's sharpest lyricists, weaving barroom humor with nasty double entendres and extolling the nihilistic virtues of rock 'n' roll. Not surprisingly, he died a few months after the album got released from alcohol poisoning. The timing couldn't have been worse. The band then took on new vocalist Brian Johnson, who shared a similar vocal style with Scott (think gargling broken glass), and the resulting album, Back in Black, became an even bigger hit. It was a mourning album, with a minimalist black sleeve and funeral bells opening up the first track, but in many ways it was also a great example of a career-reviving achievement. Of course, it would be wrong not to mention AC/DC's two guitarists (being brothers Angus and Malcolm Young), who serve as the core of the band. Angus, in his schoolboy attire is certainly one of rock's most recognizable icons, while Malcolm is considered to be one of the best rhythm guitarists ever. The rock-solid rhythm section, drummer Phil Rudd and bassist Cliff Williams, deserve mentioning for providing the excellent musical bed for the band. AC/DC wasn't able to outdo this album, but being the classic that it is, it hardly gets any better than Back in Black anyway.

9.) Zenyatta Mondatta (The Police) - The power trio of Sting, Andy Summers and Stewart Copeland were lumped up with the punk movement despite having developed their musical chops from playing more technically demanding genres (jazz-rock, classical, and prog-rock, respectively). They pioneered a 'white reggae' sound, which as Eurospeak, became the title of their second album (Regatta de Blanc). Zenyatta Mondatta, the third album, is then Eurospeak for 'top of the world,' and despite having only a couple of hits ('Don't Stand So Close to Me' and 'De Do Do Do De Da Da Da' ), all the tracks are brilliant (including two instrumentals). I personally like 'Canary in a Coalmine,' 'Man in a Suitcase,' and 'When the World is Running Down, You Make the Best of What's Still Around,' probably the longest song title I have in my collection. The songs were mostly penned by vocalist/bassist Sting, who was acknowledged to be the best songwriter in the group, but Andy Summers' guitars and Stewart Copeland's drumming were generally responsible for the familiar Police sound. The guitars were obviously an inspiration for the Southern California Ska/Punk movement that became popular during the 90s, while the drums, despite a certain restraint, betray Copeland's progressive leanings. I started liking the band after I got into Sublime and 311 (who were more or less part of the Southern California Ska/Punk movement). Message in a Box was the first boxed set I bought... it was eventually stolen during a break-in on a summer trip to Baguio, so the replacement set I got a few months after became the second boxed set I ever bought. I sometimes wonder if that first set ended up with someone who became a fan of the band afterward, but it would've been ironic for a low-life thief to have become a fan of a band called The Police, of all things.

10.) C.M.B. (Color Me Badd) - I know you think that I've inhaled too many of those psychedelic dust mites, but the truth is, if I were to do some form of regression, this album will be my time machine. I actually owned three cassettes of this album. The first one was a defective copy given to me by my grade six seatmate, while the second one was one I actually bought then handed off to another classmate. The third cassette I kept, and it's still stacked somewhere in the house, although it's in pretty bad state. I did find a CD copy around 2001 in the previously owned section of Music One Megamall, and I found the actual CD to be thicker than the ones that I was familiar with at that time. It also included a lot of unusual marks and rings on the silver side of the disc, and I realized that it must be one of the older-generation CDs. The album itself generated three hits for the group, 'I Wanna Sex You Up,' 'I Adore Mi Amor,' and 'All 4 Love.' C.M.B. was a good debut album by 90s standards, dishing out sleek throwaway pop via a commercial blend of R&B and hiphop (which is now referred to as 'urban' music). What's funny is that, 'I Adore Mi Amor' actually predates the pseudo-Latino fad that came about during the late 90s. The actual group dynamic more or less conforms to the typical boy band configuration, even featuring a multi-racial lineup. Color Me Badd can't possibly be musical trailblazers, can they? I also can't possibly sing praises about the actual songs without sounding like a retrophillic retard. Truth is, my life was as boring as watching a cluster of lichens growing on a rock face. I had plenty of time to listen to crap without actually realizing that it was crap. Thinking about it, ignorance was indeed bliss, and maybe that's what actually makes this album a guilty treat for me. Life was really simpler then, and given the random complexities that I find myself going through sometimes, I sometimes wish I can just pop in a CD and feel whatever I felt 14 years ago. I may not like it, but this album can do that for me, if anything can.

If I expanded the list, I probably would have included some Black Sabbath (maybe Master of Reality), Aerosmith (Toys in the Attic), Electric Six (Fire), Tenacious D, some 90s alternative/grunge, and a bunch of Incubus albums. Among these, only Electric Six can come close to being a bookmark, but that is a chapter that has yet to close.

This has been my most ambitious post in the span of a week (it was an eventful one though). The albums are not listed in any particular order, except for C.M.B., which would've looked even odder if not placed last. They are not the top 10 albums that I will take with me to a desert island nor the top 10 albums I want played during my wake. The songs on the list merely serve as captions for moments I remember from my life so far, and I find it something of a privilege to be able to even do this sort of traversal using easily available cues. It's still cheaper than asking a psychiatrist for a regression session, after all.

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I'm a year older from yesterday, the years have never felt this delineated, and the hairline only serves to corroborate this. I like to tell you about what's on my mind, but all I can think about is what's on my head. One word: sourcurdledmilk. My aunt lovingly cultures the lactobacillic concoction which can apparently perform medicinal miracles. She showed me strands of baby hair where there used to be none on her forehead, and thinking that I don't have anything to lose by trying it out, I decided to give it a shot. I've been using it intermittently for the past couple of weeks. My head smells like bad cheese... on my birthday, no less.

This is a late update, continuing from yesterday, regarding the ten albums that I decided to listen to on the occasion of my birthday. Brief explanations follow each entry.

1.) Who's Next (The Who) - Easily my current favorite. I started to seriously listen to The Who only during the start of this year, right about when I was developing a respiratory condition. Ironically, all I have from this album are the five songs included on the 'Ultimate Collection' 2-CD set, and they have to suffice for the moment. This is largely considered to be The Who's best album, culled mostly from a failed project of Pete Townshend's. Ergo, the album has just the right amount of cohesiveness without having the tricky homogeneity of a concept album. The CSI spin-offs use two of the tracks here for their themes and should be familiar to fans of the show ('Won't Get Fooled Again' and 'Baba O'Riley,' both anthems built on synthesizer beds). Other gems include 'My Wife' (John Entwistle's other famous Who contribution; lyrically funny in a tongue-in-cheek fashion), 'Bargain' (essentially a string of hyperboles, on how even Herculean tasks are considered bargains when winning someone over), and 'Behind Blue Eyes' (a song with a marked persecution complex, so good that even Fred Durst wasn't able to ruin it by doing a remake). The Who's dynamic is such that each member is never transparent at any particular second of a song - there is the genius guitarist (Townshend), the pretty-boy frontman (Roger Daltrey), the stoic bassist (Entwistle) and the maniac drummer (Keith Moon). Their relationship was admittedly based on competition, and for their significance as artists to endure for more than two decades, that competition seemed to work very well.

2.) Rumours (Fleetwood Mac) - Done at the time when the band was going through personal crises (a divorce, a breakup, addictions, among other things), it was a miracle that this album was made at all and a wonder that it was made this well. Stripped down of all the 70s polish, the melodies, courtesy of the band's three main singer/songwriters, still sound as beautiful today... some might say that the songs sound overproduced, but they are hardly insincere. Resulting from a marriage of British blues and sunny California rock, FM turned out excellent pop rock that has been since covered by an assortment of artists. The phenomenon of Rumours was such that the album itself received the tribute album treatment and not the band. It was, after all, the best-selling LP before Michael Jackson's 'Thriller.' Listening to Rumours is like voyeuristically watching a soap-opera being filmed. 'Dreams' by Stevie Nicks is clearly the album's most famous track (a Euro-pop version of which became a hit for The Corrs), although the other songs are just as good... keyboardist Christine McVie writes the best love songs ('Songbird' and 'You Make Loving Fun'), while guitarist Lyndsey Buckingham shows his genius with clever arrangements ('Second Hand News' and 'Never Going Back Again'). My personal favorite, however, has to be 'The Chain' (the only song on which all members share writing credits) if only for the varying textures that made the rock feel more pronounced over the pop.

3.) Led Zeppelin 2 - The second album that the band released in 1969. It is, in my opinion, the most cohesive of all their albums (even when compared against the hugely popular fourth album). It's largely done in A-minor, resulting from the band's often stretched-out instrumental interludes when playing 'Whole Lotta Love' on stage. It's not Led Zeppelin's most ambitious effort, but it is probably the most direct one. It is also arguably the most influential one, as Led Zeppelin 2 seems to have served as some sort of prototype for 70s hard rock. My personal favorites have to be 'What Is and What Should Never Be' and 'Living Loving Maid.' I first got into Led Zeppelin during an immersion trip to the minimum security prison at Muntinlupa, where I met an inmate who played guitar really well (Led Zep was his favorite band, he said), but it was only after two years when I eventually found a boxed set on sale in Radio City. The effect of Led Zeppelin on rock cannot be overstated, never mind that they 'borrowed' a lot from traditional blues songs ('The Lemon Song' and 'Moby Dick'). I know Led Zep was what got me started onto classic rock, and noting the number of classic rock albums on my list right now, it's probably safe to say that Led Zeppelin's effect on my general musical disposition cannot be overstated as well.

4.) Machine Head (Deep Purple) - Funnily, I was already listening to Deep Purple even back in college, not knowing that they were actually classified under 'classic rock' (for all I know, they were just an old band from some era). Deep Purple then was what actually started me onto classic rock, albeit unknowingly, and it took a couple more years for me to actually pursue the genre after I got into Led Zep. The Mark2 lineup is largely regarded to be Deep Purple's finest, and this album is considered to be their best one. It opens with the classic 'Highway Star,' which I remember hearing from a gasoline commercial during the 90's, believing that it was titled 'My Car.' This album contains the mother of all rock riffs with Ritchie Blackmore's chromatic intro to 'Smoke on the Water.' The distinct Purple sound is due in large part to Jon Lord's classically inspired keyboards and Ian Paice's frenetic drums (he is possibly rock's most underrated drummer). Ian Gillan, who enjoys hitting the high notes, is in best form, and while Roger Glover's contributions to the band as a bassist aren't that apparent, his songwriting ideas are definitely something to be regarded. It must be noted, as in Fleetwood Mac's case, that what kept Deep Purple Mark2's prolific streak were internal conflicts. Those conflicts eventually resulted in a lineup change after one more album, and though DP continued to sell records, the succeeding lineups and reunions failed to capture the magic that early Mark2 exuded on their performances.

5.) 311 (Blue Album) - All I can remember is hearing 'Down' and 'All Mixed Up' on the radio when I was a college freshman, buying a cassette around February 1996 and still having that particular cassette in my bag a year later, even when 311 has already come up with the follow-up several months earlier. It was a particularly memorable year, and this album seems to serve as some sort of backdrop for all those things I went through. 311 has a noted punk aesthetic, fusing genres back when it wasn't yet the standard for rock bands, melding rap, funk, and reggae without yielding to irony and pretense... they are, after all, five white guys from Nebraska playing a blend of black-dominated genres. I still have a lot of respect for this band, although I haven't enjoyed the albums they turned out since this one as much. I do have plans to check out their latest DVD though, where they performed well over 60 songs in one day.

(to be concluded)

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Dear God in Heaven,
Thank You for the people I love.

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I am hung over. I had a little over three hours of sleep last night and had something of a natural intoxication. It's not the best thing to be feeling on one's birthday, I suppose, but given how things have been going at the moment, I guess a little bodily abuse shouldn't be too bad.

Two weeks ago, all I had planned for today was for me to listen to ten albums. This plan has been scrapped for the moment, although I do want to give those CDs a spin sometime during this week. I can go into further detail as to why I picked those albums (it started from an email survey, I remember). It may open me up to criticism from certain types, but they probably would find faults even in the Arabic numeric system anyway. Anyway, the albums:

1.) The Who - Who's Next
2.) Fleetwood Mac - Rumours
3.) Led Zeppelin 2
4.) Deep Purple - Machine Head
5.) 311 - 311 (Blue Album)
6.) The Brand New Heavies - Shelter
7.) AC/DC - Back in Black
8.) AC/DC - Highway to Hell
9.) The Police - Zenyatta Mondatta
10.) Color Me Badd - C.M.B. (explanations are on the way, I promise)

It's hardly the soundtrack to my life, but at 26 years old, these are the ten albums that are significant to me right now for one reason or another.

It has been a great day for me, and I was able to spend my day with most of the people whom I wanted to spend it with. I've also been awake through most of today, and I'm due for a coma soon, so I'll try to wrap things up without being too gooey. Thanks to everybody who sent greetings. Thanks to my family for a lovely lunch, however late I arrived. Thanks to TeamYhap for making the early hours a blast. The smuggled 'surprise' cake was good, even for this non-chocolate lover. It was easily my best and worst birthday experience ever. That should count for a lot.

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Most people hate goodbyes... I don't. I do hate the period leading up to certain goodbye and the period after that. As much as I always tried to make sure that I keep goodbyes memorable, they hardly ever leave significant imprints on my mind.

It's natural, I think. We always dread the actual act of saying goodbye that when the exact moment comes, it doesn't always live up to the anticipation. That day will still feel like a regular one, if you were expecting something else. I'll borrow from a previous piece and state that life isn't a string of exclamation points. We always look out for these major events that sometimes we overlook the regular day-to-day occurrences. Life is more often than not punctuated by periods. It's natural for us to never forget exclamatory events, but it's the boring everyday drivel that we will miss. We look back to birthdays, deaths and anniversaries but we almost always dwell on past routines longer. I sometimes miss college, but I sure as hell do not miss graduation day.

I remember feeling my worst after a couple of goodbye incidents. In fact, I probably felt so bad preparing how to say goodbye properly (if there is such a thing) that I was caught unaware at just how worse it can get after. Life as I knew it had to change, and I remembered the five stages of coping, finding out that I was probably better off not knowing those stages because I kept flitting from one stage to the next when I should have been going through them in sequence. I won't be in denial next week. No, really.

Most people hate goodbyes... I don't. I dread them. I do like to believe, however, that this episode is necessary for us to be meeting again. Given how small the world has become, that is probably as certain as the boss man trimming his facial hair.

Goodbye then. I like to think that those years and months weren't spent merely to lead up to a memorable last day, but to a memorable stay. I'm not good at goodbyes... I'm not good at a lot of things, for that matter, so I'll just go on the record as to officially saying that I will miss the lot of you. That's more than you can get out of me on a regular day (which today is, of course). No exclamation points here. This is already my best attempt at a proper goodbye, but it is at best temporary because we will be meeting again soon. Period.

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George Lucas has a habit of releasing his Star Wars prequels in time with major roster changes in whatever workplace I find myself in. It's a thankful little detail as it gives me an excuse somewhat to get out of the office and do the unmentionable by watching a two-hour installment of a series to which grown men have been known to weep (I know I did after watching Episode 2).

Go watch Episode 3. It's the first prequel I enjoyed without afterward pitying myself for doing so. My opinion may not count for much, as I am a hopeless fanboy. I may not dress like a Wookiee for opening night but I'd easily bring a working lightsaber to a first screening. I do not know the names of all the characters, but I doubt that Lucas himself knows them all as well. I do know, however, that for a second, I learned how to appreciate a blue backside, thanks to Aayla Secura. Maybe I was expecting to shed a tear or two, but the occasional iffy line made sure that I didn't. I did feel a compulsion to cry though, but this was before the movie started, when I found out that Toy Kingdom was all out of working lightsabers, ruining the one remaining opportunity for me to wear geek on my sleeve. It's tragic, really, because I have plans of turning to the Dark side by killing every dust mite responsible for my allergy. I'll kill them all. They're dead... every single one of them... and not just the men... but the women and the children... too. They are animals... and I'll slaughter them like animals... I HATE THEM.

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Welcome to my online journal. I'd call it a public canvas of expression crafted from the palette of my colorful existence, but I'm not a pretentious prat unlike your good friend, and you can hardly call my life colorful. I refuse to engage in mental, artistic, or existential masturbation when the regular kind can suffice... for most people, I heard. Welcome to my online journal, regardless. This is my first actual attempt at keeping a semblance of continuity in my life, which often does find itself in convoluted twilight zone lapses. I've never bothered with organizing a timeline for my future self to look back to, since I have a high-definition camcorder inside my head. I find that I have the luxury of getting THX flashbacks (with a soundtrack, no less), living out singular moments from my past by merely staring into space for extended periods. This then is me making an effort to tie those flashbacks together, because spacing out isn't really a healthy habit, even by my standards.

I pretty much said during the start of the year that 2005 was going to be a transitional year for me. Personal deadlines aside, plenty of unforeseen developments have conspired to make it even more transitional, which is merely a term I like to use to imply a feeling of being-there-but-not-quite or where-the-hell-am-I-damn-it. I found a solution to the dreaded quarter-life crisis, and it involves freebasing a gallon of anti-aging chemicals three times a day. I now expect to live to 200 and therefore, I won't experience my quarter life crisis until I turn 50. I do expect to hit puberty next week though, so my parents should have a grand time ordering me to my room repeatedly, which is fine as long as I still get my allowance.

Life is good, even with pharmaceutical imbalances. Enjoy!

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Doesn't mean I like you both though.

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