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Puckering Time

It's now or never.

My December 31

Sunday, December 31, 2006

I think I already like last minute shopping. I get to have what my fingers point at, whatever that thing may be it is very likely that it will end up queuing at the cashier and getting packed inside the shopping bag. Late this afternoon I happily pointed at three merchandises in SM, and they all ended up as collector's items.

Round 5.30 pm I accompanied my parents to the mall to purchase gifts for those unfortunate relatives whom they have forgotten to include in the list. My parents are still, uhm, young and vigorous and they have misrecollected five people, two of who are my mom's godchildren. I shouldn't have mentioned vigorous for I am merely stating the obvious. My parents, especially my mom, make effective alarm clocks particularly in the morning when I fail to hear the tooting of my cell phone. Usually my dad would wake me up in the morning, and he would knock at my door as rapidly as he can like there's no tomorrow, and as hard as his knuckles can bear, making an impression of a jack hammer. Then he would yell my name and give a litany about my everyday chronic tardiness. He also does the same thing to my sister, who is harder to pull out of her bed. Then I would find out that my dad had just wakened up five minutes earlier than us.

Back to the mall. I assumed that since it’s December 31 everyone would also have the same idea of rushing to the mall and think of this day as the end of the world. However, it was not like the usual crowd I have seen during the peak hours of the holiday season; as if there was no celebration on this day since there were very few people lurking around. Then I thought, maybe the people have gone to their respective provinces to welcome the New Year. With this unforeseen phenomenon we happily bought our gifts minus the headaches, vertigoes, and strained knees and ankles. My mom decided to give each of my two newly-wed cousins a rice cooker from American Home which is quite cheaper than other brands, a blue polo shirt from Bench to my uncle who is the youngest in their family, and Montanara sling bags plus a pair of Nike socks – my suggestion – for my other two cousins.

As for the items my index finger has aimed, they were not really that costly but they certainly made my mom think for a while. First, remember the black Toblerone chocolate? It finally materialized on the shelves and racks after years of nostalgic salivation, and at long last I got not only one but five of it. The last time I have eaten the stuff was when I was around 11 years old. Second, I got myself a black racer back tank top from No Fear, small size, even if I know that I am not beefy. I have read in a shirt wrapper one time when I was looking for briefs that tank tops, racer backs, and sandos are all different from one another due to their styles. Tank tops have a thinner shoulder strap and fit your body perfectly, no matter how lanky or thickset you are; racer backs have a very short piece of clothing material shaped like the Nestle Pure Life logo, and barely exposes your shoulder blades. Sandos are, well, sandos, only larger and have a more plunging neck line. But in any case, they are all for the same purpose.

The third one is the most useful of all: a blue Faber Castell highlighter. I’ve been yearning to buy myself one but I always forget to drop by at the bookstore. And whenever I do drop by at National the only time I would remember the highlighter is when I have already set my foot inside my room. Faber Castell is a fairly new brand as compared to the popular Stabilo Boss, although it can be argued that Faber Castell has been around for years but I think nothing can beat Stabilo Boss for its set of highlighters. The latter brand is refillable so the risk of ink drying up can be overlooked for there is always a standby refill. I’m not sure if Stabilo has created the refillable type, and I haven’t seen one myself.

So there goes my third and last post for this year. I have to stop here. Have to get myself earplugs; all those fireworks are killing my eardrums. I thought fireworks and that PVC boga are already regulated and/or banned?

Have a blessed and joyous year ahead of you, everyone.

"Nobody does it like..."

Saturday, December 30, 2006

I trust you have already ridden the MRT from a certain point along the stretch of EDSA. For the cerebrally impaired, the acronym MRT stands for Metro Rail Transit, and it is one of the three means of mass transportation in Metro Manila; the other two are LRT Lines 1 and 2, respectively the yellow and purple lines. Among the three, LRT Line 2 is the most advanced in terms of service and structure. Some stations are air conditioned, and every station has vending machines that spew out tickets so the hassle of queuing up and picking fights with some rude creature in front of you who dare cut the line are eliminated. If you are the type of person who wants chaos, misdemeanors, or someone who just want to risk life, you can take the MRT. If it’s part of your grand scheme to experience advanced chaos, or more likely, death, you are always welcome to try out LRT 1.

Anyway, as far as my observations are concerned, bizarre things are going on in the MRT. For one, the trains often get stranded during rush hours due to technical problems. Or it could be due to old age since reports have it that the MRT trains are getting dilapidated and need to be upgraded, or at least, get repaired. Two, given the skyrocketing fares nowadays people have been flocking the MRT as an alternative means of transportation. The volume of the passengers obviously increased, and I don’t need to use figures and numbers in order to verify this; just be at Taft Avenue station on Mondays around 6.30 to 7 am. And three, the MRT already has its own radio station. Isn’t that great. And it is actually called…the MRT Radio. How…creative.

This MRT Radio thingy came up I think just last semester and the music genre blaring from the equally ancient speakers then were only pop jazz, bossa nova, and some assortment of boring synthesized songs so purely artificial that I could have sung them a capella and would’ve sounded better. This isn’t modesty or something. Man, if you have heard it way back when MRT Radio was just starting, you would’ve done the same thing. Funny though, that even if the passengers don’t know the songs, most of them are possessed by the songs manifested through slight tapping of one foot or both, humming, or trying to catch the lyrics even if it proved futile and stupid. Again, these are my observations.

Then lately, at the start of the second semester, things have changed. There have been advertisements by Chowking, Solmux and that moronic gorilla, among other promotional hypes. Of course, still present is the hilarious station ID, which sounded so obsolete. (It’s very…M.Y.M.P. – ish. Which made me wonder: there’s got to be a better way to make a living.) Alongside these “changes” are the music genres. From boring it went to hippy, the whiplash type of music where, if you don’t give a fart, you can sing your lungs out with it. From bossa nova to alternative rock, pure pop, and rock! Now they are playing Incubus (Incubus!), Toad the Wet Sprocket (Toad the Wet Sprocket!), Bad English (Bad English!), Itchyworms (Itchyworms!) Lifehouse (Lifehouse!), a motley crew of girly performances by Vanessa Carlton (Vanessa Carlton!), M.Y.M.P. (M.Y.M.P.!), Nina (Nina!), All Saints (huh?!), SWV (SWV!), among others. There is also some classic 80s music which is good for lulling one’s self to sleep. Maybe some radio producer or a personage in the broadcasting industry or recording company accidentally rode the MRT and got so depressed with the pathetic music that they offered the management some help. I’m just theorizing, okay. Then again, the result was good. No, it was better. All they need now is an FM radio DJ.

Now I’m just waiting for Up Dharma Down, The Gin Blossoms, Taking Back Sunday, The Fray, Pete Yorn, Hilera, Jason Mraz, and John Mayer to materialize. I half-expect to hear Ozzy Osbourne, Cueshe, Willy Revillame, Manny Pacquiao, and the song “Hotel California” on the radio every time I ride the MRT. Then again, the MRT is owned and operated by the government so it doesn’t make any difference.

This is not an excuse

It’s good to be back. This is my, uhh, new blog site. If you could still remember my old blog address, I suggest you not to drop by for it has been deleted for all eternity, posts included. For one whole month I’ve been doing a test drive whether I should continue using Blogger or not. And it did not fail me.

I said test drive because it really was a test drive. I did an experiment. I’m not sure whether I could count it as a participant observation but I think it’s a bit close to that. Blogging has become a popular avenue for one’s creative juices (intellectual masturbation, as they say), given the number of people subscribing to their choice of blogging service. They all give themselves the freedom to write just about anything that interest them, no matter how bland or thrilling the contents may be; the catch is whether your entries would draw the bloghopper’s attention or just leave your page as it was. Readers may find themselves perusing your blog, deciphering the content, and if it gives them a blow on their heads they might as well leave a comment or violent reaction, whichever deems fit.

Going back to my topic. I conducted a test on my own blog and I gathered remarkable results. Round end of November I sort of wondered if people would be so much affected by other people’s lack of intellectual property rights. I prepared myself for any impending disaster that could probably inflict me. Since I have a high tolerance for written and verbal charges I resolved not to engage in any psychological tests, and proceeded to perform the experiment. This is what I did. From all blogs and write-ups I’ve read, I would pick the most interesting ones and put it in my own blog and claim them as my own published entries. In other words, I plagiarized. Out of 57 blog entries from my previous blog, nine were bootlegged from other blog sites without the author’s permission. For maximum effect there were no citations included in those nine freaking blog entries; these were nine posts from November to December, not counting the last six posts in the latter. Then after a week or two I visited the blog sites where I filched the said posts and see what had happened.

Surprisingly, in my own blog, it’s as if nothing was taking place – no one left a comment, but I had this feeling that a soul did some browsing in my site until I checked out my good reliable “sources” and I knew I was missing some action. At least four people have managed to view my site and they were raving, foaming at the mouth about my “rudeness.” They generously labeled my blog as a clone, and that I have proven all humanity that I fulfilled a prophecy about the cloning of this certain personage. They were so bothered that one even dared me to some physical match; he would beat the hell out of me.

Okay, so much for the information gathered. Now I realize how people would react to those instances. I know, what I did was not the right thing but I did so for a purpose. I don’t know if those distressed people could read this but in any case, my apologies. At this point you might be thinking twice about my legitimacy, my credibility as a blogger. Let me just clarify that the copy-paste entries were not the whole 57-entry blog; only nine were pirated. The remaining 48 were created out of sheer boredom inside the four corners of my room or in an unfortunate coffee shop. I get my inspiration to write from the books I’ve read, the blogs I’ve browsed, or simply from my own life experiences. They may sound a bit similar to what you may have read somewhere, but I assure you they are authentic.

To those whom I have awfully offended I hope I have made this clear. And to everyone who’s attempting to highlight that selection in your screen, and paste it in your blog, please. For the love of God, stop dragging and hitting the mouse buttons, much less the Publish Post command. You’re going to be disappointed.

© 2007 Puckering Time | It's now or never by Mike.
No part of the content or the blog may be reproduced without prior written permission from the author.
Letter of intent should be typewritten in no less than 5,000 words, point 10, single-spaced, Verdana. The author is not kidding.