Addictions: Coffee

I've been off of coffee for the past three months now, and I miss it terribly.  I did it out of a whim, honestly.  And alright, out of health reasons, maybe.  I was having mild acid reflux.  But that may just have been regular office stress and not the coffee's fault.

But anyways, I did stop drinking coffee and found substitutes to it.  For a time, I was guzzling copious amounts of pineapple juice just to curb my body's insistent search for caffeine.  And as if in retaliation for its lack of addiction fix, my body decided to shower me with hunger pangs.  An almost constant barrage of the case of the munchies.  I am always hungry; never mind that I've just eaten a major meal, two hours hence and I'm already hungry.

Thus coffee was replaced with fruit juices and a wide array of food.  I'm feeling fat.  And still hungry.

I miss coffee.  I miss the taste, I miss the smell, I miss the high.  But my self-control is strong enough that I am still able to cope with its loss.  


There are times though that I wonder how a hot americano would taste and feel like, the way you hold it with both hands, savoring its enticing warmth, drowning in the earthy, intoxicating smell.  Ever so slowly, you reach for it and tease your lips with it, just a little at first, tasting the hotness of it, mouth aching with the sudden gush of saliva from aroused glands.  

You grow bolder with each try, taking in more and more of it, enjoying the scorching in your lips, your tongue until finally you plunge full on, eyes closed and ecstatic as the hotness spreads to your whole mouth, your throat.  And you go for it again and again and again some more, until all of it is spent to the very last dregs.

Then you stare at the bottom of your coffee cup, wanting more but holding back, knowing too well that too much of a good thing is bad.

But I'm still holding back from my coffee intake, and that hot raspberry americano will just have to wait some more.

And yes, I know that the one pictured above is a cup of Peppermint Mocha.  It was Christmastime, and I was aiming for stickers.  haha!

The Zombie Apocalypse Team

The Zombie Apocalypse finally happens.  You need to assemble a team that will help you survive the catastrophe.  Your team members would be comprised of the protagonists of:


1. Last movie/tv show you saw 
2. last book you've read 
3. last video game you played


With your team in place, how long do you think you will survive the zombie plague?


As for me, my team is as follows:


Last movie I saw:

The Avengers.  The culmination of five prior movies and four titular characters, assembling some of Marvel's greatest heroes, or at least those who are movie-worthy.  While we're on this subject, I cannot say enough how much I loved this movie.  It may not be faithful to any comic arc that I know of, but the snarky dialogue and scenes make up for it.  With Joss Whedon of Buffy fame at the helm, of this project, my expectations were high.  And he did not disappoint.




Last book I finished:

Augusten Burroughs from Magical Thinking.  The memoirs of an advertising executive who believes he can perform magical thinking.  He thought about wanting to quit advertising and become a New York Times Bestselling author, and he became one.  He wanted his date to like him even though he wasn't his type physically, and they became partners.  He was so angry at a former boss that he wished her to get hit by a bus and months later, the boss dies of an aneurysm.  Which is so much better than a bus!  Funny, endearing and relatable to an extent, I am not surprised that it became the bestseller that it was.




Last video game I played:

Druid from Diablo II.  I don't really play much video games.  But when a friend and I were talking one time about Diablo, and how it was once rumored to have caused demon possessions (yes, it even made the news) I told him I wanted to play it.  As luck would have it, he has a copy of the game and he installed the same on my old lappy.  Sadly, old lappy was ill-prepared for handling the specs needed for proper game play.  No demon possessions occurred while I was playing, but old lappy finally called it quits, and died on me.




So there you have it:  A group of super-powered, neigh indestructible individuals, an author whose every whim is made possible by the universe, and a druid who can summon wolves, bears, and meat-eating tendrils at command.  I guess I'm all set for the zombie apocalypse.  


How about you?  How will you fare in the coming apocalypse?




photo credits.  avengers, magical thinking, druid

Chess

Growing up, my father taught me how to play chess. Nothing formal though; I still can't distinguish Kasparov from Tchaikovsky; but the basics were given clear.  Every piece has its unique move, every character, its strengths and limitations.

I may not know the various openings named after the masters but I do know well enough that the game is that of strategy.  To ensure your win, you must always be five steps ahead of your opponent.  You must anticipate every move and be ready for your counter move.  You should be able to weigh the value of every piece and move it about on the board.

And you should be willing to sacrifice a royal if it means getting ahead in the exchange.

It was one of the few activities that my brother, dad and I have bonded with.  One of my many frustrations was I could never beat them in three out of five games.  And I have this suspicion that they sometimes let me win on purpose.

We loved the game so much, we were able to run through a number of chessboards that seem to mysteriously vanish after a while.  Our fondest set was a Simpsons-inspired set, with Bart as pawn; Lisa as bishop; Maggie, the knight (she has a toy horse as steed, the cutie); and Homer, Marge and Grandpa as king, queen and rook respectively.  My brother and I pooled our allowances just to get that set; we took care not to scratch the pieces; we even preserved the box it came with.  But out efforts came to naught when our little sister used the pieces (they were made of rubber) as chew toys, and threw the rest every which way.  I really miss that game board.  


Once, during my free period, when I was a freshman in high school, I came to watch our chess varsity play in one of their practices.  One of them invited me to play and I accepted.  I opted for an aggressive match and soon, I had him on the defensive.  It was only through my carelessness (and a little help from his mates) that I lost the game.  I enjoyed the game, but the invitation for me to join the varsity was at best, only lip service, so I stopped hanging out at their place.  It did teach me the value of a great defensive strategy.

Nowadays, it's very rare that I encounter someone who plays the sport.  It's as if everyone has contracted attention deficit disorder, that the time it takes to play the game is a few minutes too long for them to endure.  Which is a pity, because as board games go, chess is still the most fulfilling of the lot.


I no longer have anyone to play with, but I don't think I stopped playing.  Anticipate the opponent, and always be a few steps ahead of the game, that is what the game has taught me; and while on the offensive, always have a piece or two protecting your attackers.  I have been accused of being distant and calculating, and it's probably correct - I'm playing chess, it seems.  Even now, I'm still playing, and my earlier defeats have made me stand on the defensive, waiting for the other's attack before I make my move.


And faced with an equally defensive opponent, this game is getting longer and longer to resolve.  I have been tracing back the moves made by each side, and I believe I see a pattern.  We are down to our last few moves, I believe, and it promises to boil down to one outcome:  Stalemate.

Addictions: Wine

I've been craving for wine for some time now, and it's such happy coincidence that I some bottles at my disposal.  But seeing as I am out of the house most times, I haven't had the time to enjoy my reds as they should be.  And the times when I am in, I am unable to find my corkscrew.


Some two Christmases ago, a former officemate gave me a multi-tool (okay, a faux Swiss Army knife) as a gift.  I seldom use it but deemed its usefulness to come in handy sometime, so I kept it.  The funny thing with my stuff, I keep it, knowing it will come in handy, but it gets lost the moment I need it.  And for about a week, I've been looking for that damned corkscrew, well cursory searches, that is, I've very little time spent in the house these days, and most of those times are spent sleeping. 


Today though, I am happily without weekend plans and my corkscrew search was a success!  So with corkscrew in hand, I slowly twisted my way onto the cork, my mouth already watering at the anticipation of that acidic earthiness the bottle promised.  But no matter how much I tugged, the cork stayed firmly in place, as if in silent mocking at my apparent lack of strength.


After a few more tries, I checked the bottle and found out the problem:

  
My fake Swiss knife couldn't handle the cork and the wine bottle.  Silly of me to think that it would open, really.


So, until I find a good enough corkscrew, that bottle of wine will continue to mock me night after night.


Damn.

SMP

A: SMP ba talaga?

B: Yes

    ahahaha

A: Why don't we fix that?

B: hahah

    loko loko

A: Ayaw mo ba?

    Don't answer that

    hehe

B: hahaha

    :P

    we'll see

:-)

Something Wicked

I got a message from an old friend the other day asking if I want to watch Deathly Hallows.


I mean, come on, would anyone in their right mind refuse an invite to a special screening of Harry Potter, and for free?!

And VIP tickets to boot!


With such perks, no amount of rush hour traffic from Makati to Megamall will be able to stop me from the two things I like:  movies and free stuff.  The day's schedule did pose a bit of a problem though, with meeting after meeting peppered with rushed reports here and there.


Thankfully, I made it to the venue just a few minutes late.  It was good that I had the foresight to instruct my movie bud to get there early and to arrange for the ticket exchange.


I'm not gonna make a review, because I know I'm not capable of any at the moment.  Maybe after my nth screening, I would be.

Addictions: Playing and Watching

Last Tuesday, I played volleyball for the first time in more than two years, maybe almost three. I never had any formal training on the sport; I was a novice back then, I felt even more so that night. Worse, I felt heavy. I couldn't run as fast, couldn't jump as high, couldn't reach as far. Not that my prowess were marvelous then, but that night, I felt more inadequate than the first times I played the sport.

I was sweating profusely. I was grasping for breath. I was straining to keep up. I was drawing on every bit of energy I had. I liked it; I missed it. It has been far too long since I exerted myself physically, and the quickened beat of my heart was a welcome disruption to my lethargic state.  


I knew, even while playing, that I was in for a lot of hurt the next day; I embraced it. My friends advised me to take painkillers before going to sleep, as they were sure, as I was, that I will be in a lot of pain the next day. I also know that I must keep my muscles warm and to raise my legs higher that my heart in order to avoid cramps. I accepted those measures to be helpful but promptly threw them out of the window. I was too tired to buy medicine, too lazy to prepare my bed for the raises, too stifled not to use the AC.  


I woke up to pain like I have never experienced before, and got reacquainted with muscles I've forgotten I had. My whole body, from my neck to the soles of my feet, was sore. Every muscle was resonating different intensities of hurt; sinews singing discomfort with every move. It was like an orchestra of ailments afflicting my body with every move. I loved it; I never felt so alive and aware of my body.  


I tried to assume normalcy even through the pain but my body wont hear of it. I couldn't move without experiencing pins and needles running through by body; my usual stride therefore, was out of the question. I was moving at a third of my usual speeds, and I was furious about it. Coming from someone who sprints from one area of the office to another because it's boring to just walk, being hindered like such was a nightmare. The slow speed, the inability to quicken one's pace - both of which I detest in other people - I am now suffering.  


The physical pain, however, did not deter me from going to Shangri-la to watch the Cine Europa offerings. Thanks to Friday being declared as holiday, I was able to spend the whole day watching movies. Never mind that I was painfully aware of each of the sixty nine steps from my room to the ground floor, and almost the same number of steps leading to the Magallanes terminal; I had to reach Shang in time for the movies.

And it was like a trip to Europe as I queued first for Bulgaria, then the Czech Republic, then Denmark. And never mind that in my weakened condition, I was travelling alone. I only got to meet up with fellow travelers as we closed the day with a trip to Finland.  


There are 22 films to be enjoyed this season of Cine Europa, and I plan to make the most of it.  


But Tuesday is again at hand and I may want to subject myself to more physical torment.  


We'll see.

Online!!!

My lappy is in trouble.  

For the past weeks, I've been unable to log on to the web because my lappy wont allow me.  I have four web browsers on my lappy, but neither of which could connect to the net.  They all tell me that I have no internet connection.

I would have left it as such;  the bill may have been forgotten, so the service provider might have cut our line to remind us to pay them.  Such has happened before, and, though it caused me enough distress before, I refuse to wallow over it some more.

I might have imputed it to the wi-fi router's malfunction as well.  Gremlyn's hubby might have tinkered with the router and may have forgotter to inform the rest of the household of the changes to our access.

I might have accepted that we just didn't have internet access.

Except for that blue icon on my taskbar that tells me that I am connected to the internet.  And the fact that I can use Yahoo messenger on my lappy without any hitch. Which leads me to conclude that my lappy, despite my having two antivirus programs installed, has contracted a virus.

Having accepted that possibility, I asked help from friends on what to do to cure lappy with its sickness.  A friend came to the rescue in the form of an antivirus software and an additional spyware detecctor which I hastily tried to install on my lappy.

I say tried because my lappy wouldn't let me install it.

These new softwares, they always need to connect online before they let you allow to installl their goods onto your computer.  But my problem is just that:  I CAN'T connect to the internet.  So no matter how good those antivirus programs might have been, i simply just can't use it.

How now do I cure my virulent preciousssss and elevate it from its current state as a glorified paperweight?  I can't always steal Matriarch's or Garfield's lappy for my nightly browsing as I feel restricted with my use of it, owing to my paranoia.

I'm open to suggestions.

Keeping Busy

I know I haven't been blogging as often as I should have, and this time, it's not for lacking of an internet connection.  The internet gods have been kind lately and have afforded me with unlimited internet access whenever I avail of it, which, in my case, means every night.  All that access, and I still can't draft a decent enough post!  In my defense, I've been...err... busy!

And by busy, I mean I'm obsessing.  

I'm not really a comic freak, but when I come accross a series I like, I tend to gorge it in like a panic-buyer before an in-coming disaster.  For the past few weeks, I've been reading this comic about life in graduate school. I may not be pursuing higher education at the moment, but that doesn't mean I cannot relate to their antics nor appreciate their humor.  And they are humorous!

What I find interesting though is that I'm enjoying this comic this much.  The only times I get to obsess this much before was about manga, and not all manga can affect me like this, mind you.


A warning, though, the site may induce an unhealthy attack of unproductivity, so I advise you, especially these who are not well acquainted with the fine art of procrastination, to tread with caution.  You might get to enjoy it too much.

:-)

comic credits

Bibliophilia: Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Arthur Dent wakes up one Thursday morning to find that his house is up for demolition to make way for a new bypass. Moments after his home is razed to the ground, a fleet of space ships descend and inform the planet that it will be destroyed to make way for a "hyperspace express route". Arthur escapes the destruction of the planet with the help of his friend, Ford Prefect, who happens to be an alien researcher, and they hitchhike their way into one of the ships.

And so begins the misadventures of Arthur and Ford into the known universe, meeting bureaucratic aliens with a penchant for murderous poetry, a paranoid android suffering from manic depression, the two-headed president of the galaxy with motives hidden even from himself, and a woman with degrees in maths and astrophysics who left earth to escape a life on welfare. Along the way, they discover the reason for the Earth's creation and the answer to the meaning of life, the universe, and everything. But for all the advances in technology finally at his grasp, he still couldn't find a decent cup of tea.

Created originally for a BBC radio show, the Hitchhiker's Guide has grown into a cult following, producing six books, a tv series and a movie. I've heard of the book late 2005 when the movie was released, but was not able to get my clutches on a copy until last year. Thanks to Booksale for my omnibus edition, by the way. I am surprised I haven't heard of this book earlier, considering its humor and irreverence. But then, again, British humor isn't really popular in these shores.

Reading like an adventure book on acid, the Guide pokes fun at religion, philosophy, politics and science. It may not be the most logical book there is, and it is perfectly fine with that, and the reader will be, as well. Honestly, I could not stop laughing while reading the book. And the good thing is: there are five more installments for me to savor.


By the way, you might be wondering what the answer is to the great question of Life...


the Universe...


and Everything.




The answer is...





Forty-two.

The Silence

"Hello Darkness my old friend, I've come to talk with you again..."

It has been a while since I last had the urge to write, not through a lack of things to talk about, but more... shall we say... through lack of a catalyst. Writing for me is a tricky art and a very fickle mistress that no matter how many thoughts flood my brain at any given moment, if I fail to find that one magic word to start my sentences, then they all come crashing to a halt. Sometimes that one tiny word is the proverbial snowflake on my thoughts that causes the avalanche of paragraphs to cascade through my eager fingers.

It also doesn't help that I am normally afflicted with attention deficit disorder whenever the desire to write gnaws at me. Even now, while I am writing, ideas for an excel template I have long planned to make makes its way to me, as well as the urge to review my previous posts, and to revisit blogs that I have long lost contact with. I think sometimes I need three more of myself just to get through all the things that I want to accomplish. Maybe cloning would work. Or maybe a Naruto-style shadow clone technique would do the trick. Or maybe I'm reading too much manga lately for my own good.

We also lost internet connection for a couple of weeks, and those weeks were trying times. That was the time I realized how dependent I had become of the internet. It was frustrating to be stuck at home, with no means of connection and with my mind reeling of things to do, and things that I ought to do but am not willing to perform just yet. I realized that I had become addicted to the internet as my favorite form of procrastination in the same vein that I was addicted to television some years back. It affords me an excuse to not do something that I should have done in a long time because I am still busy doing "something" even though what I am actually doing is basically... well... nothing.

When the internet was reconnected, though, I had already created a new habit of doing nothing that I wasn't tempted enough to log back into my online connections. It was liberating in a way, but rather quite lonely, to be frank. It's a good thing that I am quite comfortable with my loneliness and the quietude that it brings. It also has a certain power -- the fact that I am capable of logging back in, but chose not to -- a power that, upon reflection, is akin to that feeling of empowerment anorexics feel when they choose to starve themselves: it feels good for a while, but is ultimately detrimental in the long run.

"No man is an island." I know that, and have exulted that mantra to some people in the past in hoping that they would reconnect. It would be quite foolish and hypocritical of me if, after I proclaim that gospel, I myself would come to shun it, and try to establish my own isle of isolation.

Anyway, I am back online, and back to my verbose self once more. And hopefully it would stay this way for quite a spell; it's very unhealthy for thoughts to rot inside one's head.

"...And the vision that was planted in my brain still remains, within the sound of silence."

CREDITS: Sound of Silence by Simon and Garfunkel

Addictions: Book Sales

Please excuse me as I hyperventillate in anticipation.

Attention Deficit: Filmfests

September and October were a whirlwind of some of the best movies the world has to offer. With the German, European, Korean, Spanish and Italian film festivals set almost just one week apart from each other, it could only be described as a viewing frenzy for me and some friends.

Then October ended and there were no more news about any other movies to follow. I felt like an addict suffering from withdrawal symptoms.

Thankfully, I chanced upon a website announcing the Australian Film Festival held at the Greenbelt. The news was such a shining beacon of hope that I gleefully hoarded up info as to the movie dates. It seems to me that this event has been set without any fanfare that it didn't even register upon my radars until it's release. Apparently the Festival started last November 5 and will end at the 15th.

Unfortunately, the 2nd week of the Festival will be held, not at Greenbelt, but in Ayala Center Cebu, so this weekend would be my only opportunity to enjoy these movies.

So now, I'm off to the cinemas.

And wait for another bout of withdrawal symptoms after this festival is over, as this might be the absolute last for the year.

And no, the one held annually during December does not count in my books.

Addictions: Movies & Cinemalaya

Cinemalaya Cinco is underway. Due to the very timely rains we've experienced this weekend, I wasn't able to watch as much as I wanted. A whole weekend has passed, and I was only able to view only one movie. I'm planning to get to see more.

In competition this year are ten full-length films and ten shorts exhibited at six major venues of the CCP Complex. The finalists in the full length feature category are:

24K by Ana Agabin,

Ang Nerseri (The Nursery) by Vic Acedillo, Jr.;

Ang Panggagahasa kay Fe by Alvin B. Yapan;

Astig (Mga Batang Kalye) by GB Sampedro;

Colorum by Jon Steffan Ballesteros;

Dinig Sana Kita by Mike E. Sandejas;

Engkwentro by Pepe Diokno;

Last Supper No. 3 by Veronica Velasco and Jinky Laurel;

Mangatyanan (The Blood Trail) by Jerrold Tarog and

Sanglaan by Milo Sogueco.

Of these ten, I was lucky enough to get a ticket to Engkwentro, probably because the ticket seller though I was part of a group of students she sold tickets to outside of the queue. Haha! Unfortunately, I no longer have a student ID to show anyone, which is too bad, for I might have enjoyed a 50% discount had I been a student (wishful thinking, I know, but there it is).

Engkwentro is about Richard (played by Felix Roco) and his woes with his family, his gang and its rivals, and the vigilante group that wants him dead. Tiring of his life as a petty criminal, he plans to elope with his girlfriend and try their luck in Manila. The movie was good, although the camerawork was a bit dizzying, at times whitewashed with solar glare, and at other times completely veiled in shadows, but I guess that was intentional. It sets the mood, somehow, and communicates the idea of the audience as voyeurs to the protagonists' life.

Expect to be shocked with this film's conclusion, which is, I guess, the director's intention.

Another film I'm itching to watch in this year's Cinemalaya is Alvin Yapan's "Ang Panggagahasa kay Fe" (The Rapture of Fe), about an OFW who was forced to return home due to the financial crisis to be met with an abusive husband and the attentions of other men, paranormal or otherwise.

It was unfortunate that the film had already sold out when I was about to purchase a ticket for the 9pm showing. Thankfully, there is still another weekend viewing for the film set for next Saturday. I have already contracted Eyvicat to accompany me with this one, and possibly to another film or two, if schedules (and funds) permit. Come to think of it, maybe a day pass for that day might be a good idea. :-)

For ticket information, please call the CCP Marketing Department at 551-7930 or 832-1125 local 1800 to 1808 and the CCP Box Office at 832-3704 or 832-1125 local 1409.

Addictions: A Cup of Black Sin

I knew from the first sip that it was a wrong idea. But the bitter-sweet aroma wafting to my nose was just too hard to let pass. Never mind that it was only an instant. It was good, strong stuff, and I even doubled the dose; it's no good thin and watered down. I don't really care for the sugar or the cream; I like it better black. Black as sin; deep as night; dark as the hidden corners of the mind. Its bitterness is its allure, its full earthy smell, its siren's call.

I was doomed from the first sip, the moment the heat touched my lips, the sweetness playing with my tongue. I close my eyes to savor the sensation. One deep breath and I dive head-on, wallowing in this forbidden fruit of paradise, satiating my desires, awakening my senses, quickening my pulse. The nagging voice in my head commanding me to stop was silenced, finally giving in to the ecstasy I was clasping with both hands. That inner voice was strong, but its conviction was quelled by the luscious, thick liquid passing through my mouth, coating my throat with a warmth so exquisite, it might have been forbidden.

I realized from the first sip that I am going to suffer for this. Something that excites the senses as much as this is bound to have repercussions. And no sooner had I finished the cup of dark sin, did they come, as I knew they would. My pulse continued to race, matching the little quakes that my arms have started to exhibit. I start to make deep, controlled breaths in the hopes of regaining mastery over my trembling limbs, my palpitating heart. And all the while, I'm fighting this drowsiness that has beset me.

Such pleasures, and such troubles, my morning cup of coffee brings...