Abrupt

People hate GMA but I like her. She's declared Monday a holiday, despite Labor Day actually falling on a Saturday. By rights it shouldn't even matter, but she's gone and given us all time to breathe.

Looking forward to a looooong weekend with nothing much to worry about. The insanity of the past six weeks is coming to an end and I look forward to being as I once was.

How many days has it been since I kissed Facebook goodbye?

I can't feel any pangs of longing anymore (then again, I never really did). Cold turkey. Slowly backing away is for pussies.

View to a Kill

Ah, weekends. All I ever really do these days is sleep them away. My only regret lies in how fast they fly by.

While searching for a new background for my desktop, came across scenes from New Zealand. It's a beautiful country. Fresh. Clean. Doesn't look like anyone smokes. I think I'd like to go. The esteemed JZ did grace that country with her presence, although this has nothing to do with my decision. I've never been one for tropical locales, with beaches and the locals wearing grass skirts. Perhaps this is due to the fact that I was born in a tropical country. I should like to go wear the grass is so green and the sky so blue it actually hurts your eyes.

Plus, it's Middle Earth.

More on beauty: with the eruption of that Icelandic volcano I can't spell the name of, come pictures of staggering clarity and dangerous beauty. This is what it looks like when God raises his middle finger at humanity and reminds us how inferior our technology is when it comes to His wrath.

Bone Tired and Harmony

Exhausted but my mind still keeps running. All I want is peace and quiet, but I know I have a class to go to. This is too much pressure for my poor little mind. To top it all off, sleep is a long time coming. I just want to float away, sleep for a week, and forget about work. Plus, it's month-end time already. Thinking about all the crazy reports and data I'm going to have to come up with isn't a party. I might actually develop yet another vice. Like huffing glue. Or something.

In other news, I have successfully downloaded the entire third season of The Tudors. Hate that I can't find the appropriate subtitles.

The Tudors is a good show - everyone keeps humping each other, it's Brit accents all around, stylized and liberally twisted history. I'm told it still doesn't hold a candle to HBO's Rome. I really must see about that show.

Back in Qwertyland

My search for a new assistant is over. Teddy's replacement is exactly like him, except he's currently nameless and is as black as the night.

Deciding didn't come easy. I'd initially thought of the E72, until my good friend and colleague Abby asked if I was "...willing to pay 7K more for a metal body, trackpad and the fact that it breathes?" I suppose that, coupled with SM's amazing sale yesterday, and my restlessness and general discontent with using a phone that didn't belong to me and wasn't Qwerty, settled it.

I do love the E63 a lot. Teddy was taken from me too soon. I'm taking a deep breath and hoping his successor doesn't suffer the same fate.

Surprise Butt Secks

Somehow, RWJ resurrected my faith in the internet and society as a whole. After an hour spent watching this guy, I realized something:

1. We are all going to pot as a civilization.
2. Seriously.

It's a train wreck and being on the internet is like having a front row seat. We may know we're headed for total insanity, but hey, it's going to be a helluva trip. I guess this is why Twitter and FB exist. Thanks, RWJ. I have decided that society, while ofttimes being criminally idiotic and apalling, is fun and I want to be a part of it, not a dinosaur watching from the wings.

I also realized that:

3. Sometimes it's good to take a step back and detoxify.
4. It heightens one's appreciation of these things.

This means YM is back online, and fingers will fly. As for FB, I have reserved judgment.

I can't embed RWJ's videos, so here's a LINK to my favorite one. It features the amazing doggy commercial below.

QWERTY or Bust

I want a new phone. It's like an itch that won't go away and it makes me fidgety. I've ignored the hum since I lost poor Teddy almost three months ago; but now it's risen to a scream and I can't seem to make it go away.

The phone I use now is a borrowed one and no offense to the owner, but I hate it. I dislike texting on it since it's your regular run-of-the-mill mobile, and I've gotten accustomed to using a smart phone. Qwerty makes my day. I want to cry each time I text, it's so frustrating.

Day Eight

I'm beginning to lose count of how long I've been off FB. I know it hasn't been that long. Doesn't feel like forever, either. It just feels like I don't really care. At times it's completely exhilarating, and other times it feels weird being completely out of the loop. What's the rest of the world doing today? I suppose it's just like missing the beach. You miss it because it's not where you're at, but the moment you get home you find yourself wishing you were somewhere else. Of course, this is just me, since the beach is not one of my super favorite places.


It's not that I've cut myself off completely. I still check up on my favorite blogs, read the news, watch TV. It's crazy how it feels so antiquated, not getting news updates via FB feed, or Twitter (not that I ever had Twitter). Instead I get it fro websites. Omg, like, sooooo old school.

I do know for instance, that Heidi Montag is now a hideous plasticine doll with giant sacks of silicone in her chest. Oh, and Steven Seagal has gotten busted for sex trafficking and being a complete pervert. Yes, as usual, I concentrate on news that really matters.

There he is. Glory days, sort of. Never was a fan, but this is one of the better pictures floating around out there - he is currently a bloated, washed-up caricature of his former self. Thought I'd spare your eyeballs.

Day Four

Nestle Strawberry Yogurt makes me feel loved. That stuff goes down smooth, with a sudden twist of berry, like a surprise kiss that lingers.

I realize it is now the middle of April. Days simultaneously zoom past and crawl by with equal amounts of unbearableness. I sometimes find myself waking up and it's the weekend, with absolutely no idea how I even got through the week.

Take today. It's unofficial hump day. I told Blitz I can't believe it's Wednesday already. Blessing or curse? I really don't know.

The Simpsons Season 19 is on rotation. It's on TV, muted. Every now and then I glance up and wonder what the yellow people are doing and why America loves them so much. I never really got past the looks. They are just too plain for me. It's an intelligent show, or so I've heard.

I have a number of movies on backlog: 2046, Die Hard 4.0, The Godfather Part Une, The Usual Suspects. All have subtitles and are ready for viewing; I find myself strapped either for time or energy. I am a gluttonous black hole of free movies. It's enough to have them ready, I suppose. I will watch them all. Eventually.

Eulogy for Theodore

Hopefully you are in loving hands; no chop shop for you.
Not hacked to pieces.
Lovingly wiped down each day,
Your shiny screen.
The sweet blips
When you have messages
Permeating a dark room.

Hopefully you remind your new owner
By the patina of your body
That someone owned you once, loved you once.
That you are his by virtue of carelessness.

Day Two

Living offline, Day Two.

Concerted effort to do things that matter without being stymied by Facebook: took some time to have dinner with the trainers in Sophia Suites. I personally love the ambience at that place. Mellow lighting everywhere. (I have a thing for mellow lighting; it bolsters denial of age.) Good conversation, bad smoking. I understand that people smoke because they're stressed, but it is a nasty habit and I dislike being a second-hand smoker. I don't get why people are aware that it kills, but do it anyway.

It seems a night meant for smoking. After dinner, Formo was up next. Met up with Chuck for a nice little reunion. Good music, good place for eye candy. Beautiful men. Beautiful women. Beautiful in-betweens. Saw a tiny, girl-like hooker being swallowed up by her big white john. Making out in public - awesome if you're good looking. Train wreck if you're both ugly. They were both ugly. I could barely find the decency to look away.

On Doing

I don't think wired humanity knows how to wait anymore. It's practically disappeared from our vocabularies. I have a number of friends who scoff, whine, rail or freak out at the prospect of waiting. I find myself doing the same thing.

I suppose it's fear of being viewed as unproductive. If you're not doing anything, then why are you here? Everyone asks that of themselves. It becomes a nagging question that drives us to French kiss a shotgun, because the answer may not be palatable.

When did doing nothing become so negative? Even yoga, the Indian discipline for tranquility of the mind, body and spirit, is something people do to fight boredom. It's something they do so they can say they're actually doing something.

Even our moments of reflection are timed.

Day One

Did a world before Web 2.0 exist, where individuals didn't get poked, tagged or tweeted, books were made of paper and music was played on a cassette tape? Sometimes I forget what that world was like.

Everything is noisy and over-saturated. It's intrusive. It's galling. It's boring. Everyone screams into the ether, wanting to be heard. People scream back. It's all about "what I'm doing."

Facebook has finally gotten to me. I still want to know what everyone is up to; I just don't want to know about it all the time - especially if all you're doing is going to work, having a hangover, watching Keanu Reeves, eating potato chips. I am sick of the pressure of trying to be interesting.

I no longer want to be ultra-accessible. There will only be three ways to touch base: e-mail, text messages or Skype.

I haven't gotten the shakes yet.

This is Day One.