O Tannenbaum

In the background: Northern Sky (Bryter Layter album), by Nick Drake


December 2005, like most recent months, left me in a haze of to-do lists and deadlines. Time is at a pace which I can barely keep up. On a last minute decision - opted to stay local for the Christmas celebration, one spent with good friends and good food. After almost two years of living in Cambridge, Stacey and I decided to break-in the kitchen and host a dinner. Small group of zany, otherwise thoughtful and kind friends.

Lesson learned: Do not give half-hearted invites just to be "nice" to a random person, so as not to be pidgeon-holed into a corner of possibly having said random person over. Such is the trap that dinner-party-hosting virgins fall into. Got away with it and all worked well - at least this time around.

Lesson learned #2: Ensure that every unwanted article is taken off that frozen turkey before hitting the oven. Again, all went well, but Stacey and I had a chuckle as our guests enjoyed the brie, fig spread and tapas appetizers in the living room.

Went to NY last weekend to go see about a tree.... I have been in crowds before, but it was madness around the Rockefeller Center. What's the big deal with a gigantic spruce with lights? And yet so it is... amazing enough for Kim and myself to be staring at the tree for over a minute and just allowing ourselves to be lost among the crowd.


Went out that night and had a great old time at the village... good enough that I wasn't heartbroken when our karaoke plans fell through and I rode the Fung Wah Soul Train bus home with a mild, throbbing headache. Interrogated Denise (right) as to why she left VH1 for this more serious media gig in a news network (which will be unnamed). Man, it was great having this as a conversation starter whenever I find myself in a somewhat impressionable group: "Oh, and a friend of mine works for VH1 as one of the head researchers. I constantly thank her for those wonderful 'I love the [insert decade here]' documentaries! (even though I know that she did not directly get involved with production.)"


There is much to ponder upon: on the year that was, of friends I lost contact with, on family several miles away, on the exhausting PC argument of "Happy Holidays" vs. "Merry Christmas," and what's to come ahead. Several toasts were uttered and maybe a few pounds put on - but a reflective attitude came over me. This will probably last until I finally get to turn that first page of the SF/Bay Area Relocating handbook and start organizing some sort of (gulp) plan.

I'll leave it at that for now and try to gather some semblance of an inspiration to do a later review of the year that was - for what a year it has been indeed.

Look at who joined me for breakfast...

It was 12 noon or so, but brunch was not scheduled for another 2 hours. I was hungry and just missed a golden opportunity for hearty dimsum - I thought then that coffee and a muffin can't hurt my appetite. (Given my eating patterns, nothing really could.)

The past few weeks have left in in a cloud of dust. Work hours put in, flu bug battled, physical stress ignored, misunderstanding with a good friend, psyche left in somewhat of a disarray (as if I'm not already a psychology poster child) - I barely had time for anything else. So, I sat down and carefully placed my coffee cup on the bench, realized that this was the first time in a long while that I actually just.... stopped.

The Fall season flew by me, like it usually does every year. Before I got a chance to go further with that musing and a little after I broke the top of my pumpkin cream cheese muffin, a squirrel - stockier than most, climbed over the bench and crawled towards my coffee cup. The furry thing just sat there, looking at me. I took out the rest of my muffin and cut up a piece. The squirrel gladly accepted. I didn't mind sharing and after the entire Idaho field of pumpkin pies I ate at Thanksgiving, I should not be eating until St. Patrick's Day anyway.

The squirrel had some sort of a growth on the side of its face, that at first I thought was an injury. A lady walked by, stopped and we both tried to do a diagnosis. Poor thing can't possibly be hurt. Throughout the course of those 15 minutes, I have had a child come by fascinated by the squirrel, an older gentleman offering more food, a Russian tourist who took a picture of the animal (and might have inadvertently gotten me in the background as well), two women - one who commented, "Aww, look who joined her for breakfast..." Oh, and I turned my head for a second to see a duck slipping and sliding on the ice as it moves towards its crew.


I find it almost comical to write this post on that morning's scene, while not really logging in some arguably noteworthy ones in the past weeks. But I suppose this is what happens when you slow down - you notice things that you would otherwise just breeze past. That cold late fall day, I stopped - not so much to smell the roses (there weren't any), but to just sit as life happens around me.

Sunday Coffee and Conversation

In the background: She Runs Away, by Duncan Sheik



The Way I See It #61
Imagine we are all the same. Imagine we agree about politics, religion and mortality. Imagine we like the same types of music, art, food and coffee. Imagine we all look alike. Sound boring? Differences need not divide us. Embrace diversity. Dignity is everyone's human right.
- Bill Brummel
Documentary filmmaker. His programs focus on human rights issues.


I never really noticed them before. Over five years of consuming brew from the empire Howard Schultz has created, and not once did I pay attention to the quotes on the back of these paper cups (Shame, shame...). I just needed that dose of caffeine, for which that $3.00 (or more) was seemingly money well spent.

Helen and I, while with the intention of doing some studying/reading, were in the middle of a conversation about events of the previous night (Halloween party at Grove St.), when the brown coffee sleeve slipped down my Grande Italian Roast regular coffee. I turned to the cup, and unable to hide my questioning look, she stopped and asked with equal confusion, "What?"

"Have you ever taken note of these quotes before?"

"No, not really? Why - what does yours say?"

[See photo above]

"Interesting, they're supposed to be conversation starters," I said. Wonder how effective these are? Then, again.... we were indeed talking about it at that given time, right? However, I would consider it a bit off if, while trying to mind my business with the aid of a latte, someone would tap me and read Quote #43 from his/her cup and then ask: "So, do you bake?"

Some random triggered conversations I remember having at various Starbucks locations (without the help of their paper cup quotes).

• Life of Pi, Yann Martel - Good book, although not completely sold on the story, but was trying to digest it, regardless. A young assistant professor from one of the area universities started by asking what I thought about it so far. I answered. He asked another question, I answered back. Quiet. He talks again. I respond again. There were some psychoanalysis going on.... This exchange contnued and even got to the part where I knew he lived in Hawaii at one point, and I shared that I wasn't originally from Boston. Just before he packed up to leave and after I gave him my email for other book discourses, I was going to ask him to kindly let me get through one chapter.
• Inside of Love, Nada Surf - The song came on and immediately caught my attention, as it did the person in front of me. I asked who the artist may be, and he was confident it was Oasis. I disagreed, and talked about Liam Gallagher's trademark manner of whining/singing. I put a bet that it was another group... Sauntered off to the barista and confirmed who it was.
• Half-and-Half - and the lack thereof.
• Newspaper section trade - Yes, I have the Sunday BostonWorks section. You got Sports there that I can borrow...?
• The obnoxious girl on a cellphone walks out of the place after half an hour of her dirty laundry broadcasted at the Boylston location. I muttered to myself, "Gad, the tribe a village over didn't quite hear you, woman." A man juggling several printouts and a laptop chuckled, "Yeah, but someone from another timezone did."

While there does not seem to be any science behind what quote goes to which cup, would it be possible that at the long anticipation of the success for this idea to tip - they just might start assigning the more valuable quotes to the Grande's and Venti's? Sucks for the Tall drinkers who would have to end up with wise words from Jack Handey (which, depending on how you look at it, can be quite valuable as well.).

Not Quite Conversation Worthy?

McSweeney's issued a "list of rejected quotes", some of which I thought were on the money to start at least a 2-hour discourse.

"A clandestine collaboration between Eli Lilly, the federal government, and Starbucks to put Prozac in the coffee? Did you hear anything about that? You're right, it's probably bullshit. You finished reading the Entertainment section yet?"

http://www.mcsweeneys.net/2005/9/1williams.html


What I did learn (something I already knew but not fully realized)...

"... that we're (quite literally) on top of the world at any given place, point, or time. "
Thanks for the quote, crazy H.

[Not verbatim. Truthfully so, isn't it? If you encounter somebody happy enough to proclaim, "I'm on top of the world," you can just tell him/her to get over it, because so are you.]

Say it ain't so

In the backgroud: Rocketman (live and accoustic), by Jason Mraz

What Blogs Cost American Business
Adage.com reports that in 2005, employees will waste 551,000 years reading them.
http://adage.com/news.cms?newsId=46494

[Really? I wonder if the surplus from all those unused vacations would cancel out that deficit?]

Could it be - that the human nature embedded in that lure to read somebody else's diary, the basic premise on why people read and (most definitely) write blogs? The percentages are split between those who maintain web logs for correspondence/journal purposes, those notable ones that have a very specific angle (e.g. Political, social, cultural etc... or even one focused on wayward Bangkok street dogs), or perhaps those blogs that are a hybrid of both - less structured yet aiming to show some semblance of credibility over the random musings.

(Ehem... Er, throat's dry.)

It is website management for the less tech-savvy. It is convenient and cutting edge. It is a medium fast permeating into that journalism sphere - the fact that the debate of "blogs as journalism" is present only validates the magnitude in which the idea tipped into the core of this culture.

On my first post, my reasons for were stated - and more reasons were added as I trudged on. Blogs are in that same avenue as the advent of sliced bread. But reading them at work? Industry-related ones being reviewed on work time goes toward the education portion of the day, and for that reason I wouldn't consider it wasted time. But if you saw a Pepsi can, which would trigger you to visit the updates on a blog dedicated to that girl in the Pepsi commercial - that remains in question.

"I wanted change and excitement and too shoot off in all directions myself, like the colored arrows from a Fourth of July rocket."

- Sylvia Plath

Westbound

Drink up, baby down... are you in or are you out?
Leave your things behind 'cause it's all going off without you.
Excuse me? Too busy writing your tragedy -
These mishaps you bubble-wrap when you've no idea...
What you're like.

So let go, jump in
Well, what are you waiting for?
It's alright, 'cause there's beauty in the breakdown.
So let go, just get in -
Oh, it's so amazing here.
It's alright, 'cause there's beauty in the breakdown.

- (from) Let Go, by Frou Frou

~*~

On Friday, October 21st, 2005...

.

While it was agreed upon several months ago, and even though most of the careful deliberation was well over with before the leaves turned - it was made official. End of business day last week, I signed on the dotted line with my company and it was formalized.

.

July 2006 - Not only am I going to be on a different zip code, I'll be on a different coast, timezone and characteristic climate.

.

Boston is a wonderful city for many reasons, a few clinging on comfort and familiarity. In theory, isn't the west coast known for its welcoming arms? And while it is one of the most favored places in the world, I hope San Francisco, CA would be as kind.

Last call

In the background: Run (Final Straw album), Snow Patrol











The autumnal equinox slated for September 22, 2005 signals the end of summer. The change of seasons and the turn of weather patterns may not always be the easiest to bear, but it validates the anticipation (spring) and apprehension (winter) paradox within this cycle that keeps us functioning.

(Mentioned this to several friends earlier and I am afraid I ruined what remained of their day.)

Just when I was liking the sand on my toes, it is done. Orange-red colors on the trees, football season, baseball playoffs, Thanksgiving, Halloween.... Bring forth the Fall - my favorite season. In the meantime, while I am able, I'll enjoy the remaining warm days as if it were still summer. This is New England - while a snow shower is quite possible in August, perhaps so will 75-degrees for temperature readings in Mid-October.

Lest we forget

In the background: Thief (from Happiness... Is not a fish that you can catch), Our Lady Peace

http://www.cnn.com/2005/US/09/11/911.anniversary.ap/index.html

The drones of my job didn't matter as much as what the news coverage was unfolding. Nobody was able to work after the second plane hit, the phones were dead until after a few minutes when my co-workers' families got a hold of each other. The events that followed speaks of the truth: Things are never quite the same.

When 9/11 hit, my working visa was still pending and I was in the process of sending another letter to supplement my application. I was in limbo, and somewhat fearing that I would have to pack my bags out of an approval notice arrival that might have been stalled enroute to my mailbox.

A blessing I am not to forget: I received the said approval notice in October 2001, approximately 2 weeks after the tragedy struck. The miracle scared off the skeptic in me even for a brief moment.

We may never forget where we were exactly, or what we were doing at that particular time. However, it can be easy to lose sight of what had happened. People have moved on somewhat, as we are urged to do so, but it will be wrong to think that these tragedies have rendered us invincible.

Kenneth Feinberg: It's a.... job, but someone's got to do it.

http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2003/11/07/60minutes/main582529.shtml

[His job is even more complicated because Congress asked him to evaluate each life, instead of just dividing the total amount in the account by the number of deaths. He was given enormous discretion to interpret the hastily written legislation that created the fund, which was designed primarily to protect the airlines whose planes were used in the attacks from ruinous lawsuits.... What's really unusual here is that Feinberg had the guts to publish a chart outlining the expectation of how much money you would get. And for the first time ever the government was in the position of doing comparative values of human lives.]

I have learned that try as you might, sometimes you just won't be able to please everybody. Mr. Feinberg is faced with the responsibility of labeling the worth of lives lost. On most situations with his job, while deemed to be what he was hired for, his judgments have added grief more than relief.

It was a brave move for him to accept such a Herculean task, and I would be somewhat intrigued to know how I would be graded if I were given the position. Without much thought, I crossed the idea off - challenges build your character but I will pass on this one. This just might be in the same circle of jobs that are not favored too much. Which reminds me...

Got to pay that parking ticket. I know it was your job to do so, but damn you meter maid - did you have to get to my car two minutes before I ran to it with more quarters?

Labor Day Weekend, September 2005

In the background: C'mere (Antics album), by Interpol

[Was too pre-occupied with the plethora of grub on Monday, post beer-mile shindig (non-participant)... otherwise, I would have probably taken a picture of the grill as well. - CM]

Fenway Park: Red Sox vs. Orioles Game #1

White Crest Beach, Wellfleet, MA

Ansel Adams Special Exhibit at the MFA, through 12/31/05

Tuloy pa rin: Wolfmann 1976-2005

In the background: So Here We Are (Silent Alarm album), by Bloc Party

[Aneurysm (n.), localized dilatation of a blood vessel, particularly an artery, or the heart. An aneurysm may be asymptomatic or it may cause varying symptoms, depending upon its location and size and on whether the expanding mass is pressing on adjacent nerves or vital organs. The weakened arterial walls of an aneurysm are always in danger of sudden rupture, with resulting hemorrhage and death.]

It can be defined several different ways, with several common medical terms, but the common denominator lies in the fact that an aneurysm catches you unaware and it does not matter whether you are 50 or at your mid-twenties prime.

My dear friend Adele's brother Wilfrid "Wolfmann" Hernandez passed away on August 21, 2005 at the age of 28. Articles and tributes have been written in his honor - I, being the Philippines outsider on this circumstance, have been amazed at what I have recently learned about him and his legacy on the Manila music scene.

Several years ago - [elementary school] did not seem that far out in perspective - I rode the same bus to school with Adele and Wilfrid . He was regarded even in Manresa as a talented musician, surely his craft was bound to break out in the scene at some point... and that it did. But such is life and its transient nature - I, along with his circle of musical admirers could only surmise that big things were ahead for him...

But the music would play on, and he will be remembered long after the last riff has reverberated. Tuloy pa rin, Wilfrid.

April 2005. After the festivities of the Jazz Fest, I came upon this beautiful quad as I roamed the French Quarter two hours prior to my flight back to Boston. I vowed to be back at some point. with a cup of coffee and more time to spare. Maybe at some point... I'll still be able to.  

Hurricane fury and human fault

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/9063708/

Hurricane Katrina has hit the Gulf Coast and left unfathomable damage in her wake. Mississippi and Alabama had extensive damages that broke records of Camille and all other storms past. New Orleans, endearingly termed the Big Easy - is not having too easy of a time with 80% of their city flooded. With increasing number of missing people, the levees on the brink of breaking and water levels rising with no clear draining outlet, one wonders if there would be much to be jovial about when Mardi Gras would come around next year.

http://today.reuters.com/news/newsArticleSearch.aspx?storyID=27395+31-Aug-2005+RTRS&srch=looting+in+New+Orleans

While some search their loved ones and stand dumbfounded as they find their houses underwater, there are those who take advantage of this situation and break into stores to loot items. TV coverage showed people, apparently unfazed of this disaster, with shopping carts filled to the brim - going through the Wal-Mart aisles like they do any given shopping day. They had no regard to the reporters, nor the handful of law enforcers who remained helpless as they carted merchandise worth hundreds. A reporter tried to talk to a looter and commented indirectly about his disregard to this grave situation. To this, the "shopper" replied: "Times like these, I got do what I can to survive, you know?" He got a New Orleans Saints football jersey and a cart filled with bags of Lay's potato chips.

Nothing but the necessities, huh - Mr. Survivor?

Makes me sick to even imagine this. I pray not, but should I be put in a moment of desperation, I hope to be reminded that karma will come around to haunt me if I gave in. It is appalling that while shock, loss, and recuperation is to be taken on by some, there are those who see opportunities for wrongful gain. There are far bigger effects that this hurricane has - effects in the economy that would transcend the borders of where Katrina landed - most of which will cause chain reactions we are yet to discover. Stealing, while many others suffer through the aftermath adds another layer of severity. Despite all the trouble it brews among humans when used to justify a cause, human nature just cannot be attributed to this.

Eternal soreness of the resolute mind

In the background: All Thumbs (Blink the Brightest album), by Tracy Bonham


It has been a while since I got a chance to sit, gather my thoughts, and put them in writing. There had been a good number of tasks to be completed, places to go/things to do before the summer is done... and decisions to be made. Many reasons can be attributed to the hiatus - but no reason is worthy enough to be labeled sufficient.

Hail Waves: The Concept of being Maytagged

My last trip to Hawaii is partly responsible for my almost impossible (view point at this time at least - hoping it is temporary) ideal of learning how to surf (Maytag Log #1. See Roam Chronicles). I have been going to several New England locations for the ideal waves, practicing and signing up for lessons that hopefully will land me some sort of board-balancing, and wave selecting skill. The past few weekends had been rough as I tread the disorganized swells of New Hampshire and Wellfleet. Blame it on hurricane season? Unlike the smooth, albeit towering waves of the Pacific Islands - New England beaches are known to have waves that while rarely surpassing chest-high heights, are rough to learn on.

The Wall, NH: I underestimated the Granite State. When I first heard of a surfing in NH, I turned a skeptical ear. Much of what I remember with Hampton Beach was the boardwalk, and the gaudy shops lined with the quintessential tourist shirts and blown-up beach toys. My directions stated that I should drive further through Route 27. There it was - what I believe was dubbed The Wall. I was impressed as the waves were pretty big - at that time, hurricane Irene was heading towards the eastern coast. My "instructor" was a 16 year-old who didn't teach me much except that "it's all about balance." I know that everything in life is about balance, kid. Are you familiar with a checkbook? He took me right into a crowded area where a surfing competition was taking place. On several occasions when I was able to stand up, but not retain my balance - I faced my wipeout fate turned to him as I emerged - only to see him chatting with someone about his afternoon schedule and the [insert expletive here] surfer who was not wearing a leash. I got a bruise and an aching arm from a board that hit me on my right side. Maytag Log #2: Not coming back anytime soon unless the wind direction and wave conditions are the most optimal.

Newport, RI: Attempted twice, but ended up just making them into beach days. Primary reason was the water condition at that time: Waves were crimson red due to high concentration of algae. Did I mention that there were volleyball (men's... sure, and women's) tournaments on both occasions? Maytag Log #3: Newport, RI has many other reasons for me to visit - not necessarily the waves.

Wellfleet, MA: Emily decided to take on surfing for the first time last weekend. Made a day out of it: Brunch, ice cream, driving by the coast and just catching up over the past few weeks worth of activities until we got through the Sagamore. We got to the beach off Marconi and relaxed for a bit - the fog was coming in thick. We could barely see several yards off the shore but the waves were visible enough to know that they were just coming in, one after the other, and from several different directions. (Imagine a herringbone pattern instead of the usual linear wave succession). Ryan (surf teacher) gave us our boards and we headed down the steep dune (which we had to later trek back up to). "The waves look like they're fun," says Ryan as he surveyed the water, to which I say, "Fun, meaning what?" To this he just looked at me and shot a sinister smile. I knew it was going to be a rough day. Maytag Log #4: We spent most of our time trying to get to our point, fighting the waves. Good instruction, however on the surfing basics, etiquette, and technique. I was sore for several days and after this, I'll think twice before I put my poor clothes on the heavy wash cycle. Holy seaweed - there was the entire vegetation of the Atlantic as I peeled off my wetsuit.

Because we thrive on suffering, we went back to the same location the week after. Much calmer waters, smaller and kinder waves this time around. Maytag Log #5: I finally understand what to look for in terms of ideal wind and wave situations, helpful techniques to balance, right of way in catching a wave etc. Caught some waves (albeit still awkwardly) and was reminded of why I wanted to get into surfing to begin with.

I do regret having picked this up rather late in this summer season and in life. Be warned about those Blue Crush girls, for they make it look like this is easy. There are several ways to learn to surf, I suppose - but after the basics, it is all about repetition, discipline, and the acceptance that (at least in the beginning) there will be pain.

Reflections on the last few days of summer - just when I was starting to get used to my feet being in the sand.

We have come a long way, 'sapiens!

In the background: A Rush of Blood to the Head, by Coldplay

Look how far we have gone from our homo erectus brothers of lore. Behold, the wonder of evolution and the logic upon which the term "monkey business" alluding to mischievous human conduct stems from. Pray tell, Darwin: Would there be another - perhaps a more advanced - hierarchical ring past this circle of mankind that we belong to?

While I am aware, at least hopeful, that I am beyond 2nd grade reading ability and am more adept to general knowledge than I was several years back-it is easy to be doubtful. Why then, if we have the reported cranial capacity for some coherent thought, did we just suck at Trivia last night?

A bunch of us went to CitySide Bar and Grille for Trivia Night. This was the first that I ever went to and Leigh* warned me that some competitors can get really intense. Presumably, we were facing several BC and Wellesley students who were here for the summer - and maybe some regulars who are familiar with the questions that had already been asked before.

We were placed 2nd to the last at one point - but continued on a tanking pattern thereafter. On one category about art - a Salvador Dali question, nonetheless - I thought here is my chance to actually put money on what I thought would be the one sure answer I can put on the table.

Clue: ... his art and career as a surrealist was spawned by this famous painting featuring melting clocks.

Everybody on our team did the customary looking-at-each-other-what's-the-answer? look. Almighty, I even went to the Dali museum in St. Petersburg - this is money.

CM: I should know this... It's... (tip-of-my-tongue syndrome hits at this moment) Something-something 'dream.' Recurrence of dream?
K: Are you sure?
CM: Not really.... Does any body know? (shrugging of shoulders) I even know what it looks like, (blah, blah)
L: Time's running out, just put in what you think it is.

I decided to wager 5 points with my answer: Recurrence of a Dream

The host calls for the answer sheets. Collects, and then voices out the answer: "The painting by Salvador Dali, with the birth of his signature melting clock is "Persistence of Memory."

I have never experienced such pride-ache (Except last week when this 60+ year old gentleman ran past me around the Charles. I was never able to catch up with him.). Our loss well-justified:
1. The questions for the most part would have seemed easy for someone older and lived the 70's (anti-justification clause: Most of history happened that decade and prior anyway. The years afterward did not put in much in the history time capsule anyway, except for the documentation of horrific 80's fashion).
2. We're not as gung ho as the other contestants who had enough practice already.
3. They keep on messing up our team name and that puts down morale. It's Team "Garret" not "Garnet." Idiot... (Consolation: There was a team last night named "By the Power of Gray Skull")
4. I was not born and raised here. What do I know about US useless trivia culture (I'll use that nationality ticket any given time.)? And where's the Music Category - I'll buy a vowel or two from Vanna White on that one!

We have to go back and redeem ourselves. Before next week, I should have already healed my wounds, freshened my resolve... and practiced trivia questions through Stacey's Cranium boardgame. If the evolution notion proves to be somewhat right, I'm supposed to retain some information as a well-functioning homo sapiens machine should.


Tom Cruise gets it from Lauren Bacall: What's another critic on your list, eh?

Lauren Bacall has strong opinions about Mr. Cruise's recent actions and media appearances.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2005/08/01/AR2005080100730.html

And people still wonder why Tom Cruise easily remains a prominent household name... Not that he had done drastic efforts to keep his privacy to begin with. In light of certain behavioral oddities and interview patterns, it had been speculated in an article in Advertising Age that Tom Cruise as "brand" may be dying.

Mr. Cruise - you're engaging yourself in risky (monkey) business.

Thanks also goes to Dave G., who showed me the reasons why Tom Cruise is Nuts.

Pink moon gonna get ye all

In the background: Place to Be (Pink Moon album), by Nick Drake

*Photo taken at dusk from our deck (7/31/05).

I started writing this post yesterday when the thunderstorms hit. The sky outside was bright with lighting followed by deafening (cliches aside - it really was loud) chorus of thunder. I looked outside and was brought back to how I would approach storms like this back home, circa 1986 (or so). Have not even gotten a chance to fully turn my head back to my laptop when, simultaneously with a bright lighting flash, I heard a *pop* and my screen was blank.

Wave of panic. I tried to switch it back on - it did for a second, but it won't fully reboot. Attempted for several times, no pulse... Eventually resigned to the fact that I will have to tap Dell for that warranty. Amazing how one gets to be dependent on computers and not full realize it. So I sat by the window and watched the storm, quieted by the duet of light and sound as I did as a child - only I was not tugging my mother's arm and asking her a ton of questions this time around.

Next morning, I tried to turn on my laptop again and might have said a prayer as I did - Houston (Cambridge), we're back in business.

Sunday early evening, just right after Stacey and I have talked to our selected 3rd roommate, I went to the deck and tried to just relax. That roommate project is somewhat over - one check on my to-do list (i.e. 300-page manuscript). Looked over towards Fresh Pond and caught the sunset which looked like a pink ball of fire. Surely, it was still the sun - but dusk is at the cusp of day and night anyway. I suddenly recall a discussion about the song Pink Moon, by Nick Drake. Imagine a scene where 2-3 people are trying to deconstruct a 2-minute song with lyrics that do not go past a full stanza (we might have had this discourse over some wine, not certain) - quite comical, albeit I remembered it to be insightful.

Blame it on the power of advertising to lure industry enthusiasts and involuntary audiences alike. The first time I saw the Volkswagen Cabrio commercial - I was determined to know what that song was and grab the album next chance I get. This was pre-Googlism fever, so I looked into the Arnold Worldwide Website (previous account holders) for clues, looked for the lyrics - and even tried to dig up my contacts who worked at Arnold.

Some would consider it sacrilegious that a "corporate-fed, pop culture, meme generator" indirectly led me to admire Nick Drake's work. Bottom line is that I got wind of his talent and his life story that equally amaze me to this day - and I am never the same. Soon after the VW ad, his name and his music gained even more ground as it found places in movie soundtracks for The Royal Tenenbaums, Serendipity and Garden State, to name a few. Like most legends, he gained ground posthumously - although not by a conscious choice (and this is what I'd like to believe). His overdose was an accident that leaves this success unrealized by its creator. This tragedy happened in 1974 - Nick Drake was 26 years old...

Last time I checked, so am I. Seeing that I don't have a reason for international acclaim waiting for me yet, whether by music or any significant contribution, I hope fate would give me a good number of years more to work on it first.

"And I was green, greener than the hill. Where flowers grew and the sun shone still. Now I'm darker than the deepest sea. Just hand me down, give me a place to be."

Suggested Albums for a Stormy Night:

Recurring Dream: The Very Best Of Crowded House
Pink Moon or Bryter Layter, Nick Drake
The Bends, Radiohead
Lost in Space or Magnolia Soundtrack, by Aimee Mann
Beautiful Girls Soundtrack
Strangeways, Here We Come, by The Smiths
Central Reservation, by Beth Orton
Automatic for the People, by R.E.M
20th Century Masters: The Best Of Louis Armstrong
The Invisible Band, by Travis
Insomnia and Other Lullabyes, by Cynthia Alexander (a hint of Manila in the mix, thanks Gracie.)

*Any other suggestions? Send them my way - surely there would be more storms to come around.

The September Roommate Project: 2005

In the background: Pipe Dream (Invisible Band Album), by Travis



Different types of personalities can emerge through the course of a year. When in a roommate housing situation, there are sacrifices to be made and there are benefits to be reaped - although some circumstances are such that you are uncertain which one outweighs the other. There was a 2004 version of this said project, which was not too much of success since our 3rd roommate is slated to move out. Reasons can be listed as to why Stacey and I just [momentary lapse as I try to conjure up an appropriate way to say this] did not jive with him, most of which emerged closer to the halfway point of the lease. I have confided with some friends about this and wanted to hear that it was not completely our fault, nor was completely his. Like in most situations, this phrase can also apply: "It just didn't work out."

There were new lessons learned in roommate dynamics. We had successes in the past with ex-roommies who ended being our friends well after - same reason perhaps why we thought that luck will just carry on through.

We published this Craigslist posting that gathered a good amount of responses. A variety of them, in terms of where they are moving from - common string among most of the candidates:
1. Professionals
2. Moving to Cambridge because of teaching job, grad studies, or project collaboration with Harvard.
3. late 20's
4. "Easy-going" and "Pays bills on time."

These upcoming weekends are going to be a blur with appointments - although Stacey and I have decided, with our coordinated schedules, we're leaving Saturday night out of the appointment cycle. We're not quite ready to give up our summer weekends (the few left) completely. Regarding our visitors on schedule for early-Friday night, I brought this suggestion out to the table: Why not have the three of them get the tour, and if they are interested - maybe have them hang out for a few, get some apps and few drinks to serve perhaps, and get to know more about them while talking apartment details...

Then I scratched the idea (with still a hint of possibility?)... because it was just too Reality TV.

What we told the prospective roommates was that we are not in a hurry to fill the place, as much as we are intending to be really careful about selecting a good fit. Not that we're asking for much, just someone who can be considerate, fun yet respectful of our time and space, share with the upkeep... (and would pick up the entire rent every now and again out of the kindess of his/her own heart. Willingness to provide weekly groceries a plus but not required.)


Glimmer of Hope..... Do'h!

It has been a while since since I got updated with updates from Manila. What for - I have a low threshold for pain, I discovered. I caught this headline as I was going through world news bits today:

Peso Continues to Gain in Strength

Mercy! Could it be? Holy Batman, maybe there is a chance.... then I won't have to go on ranting sessions and cut down on worrying about the parental units! With clammy hands and anticipation like no other, I clicked on the link.

http://currencynews.co.uk/index.php/2005/07/21/peso_continues_to_rise_in_strength

... only to be shut down. (Sigh) Viva la Mexico.

Fog over 'Frisco

In the background: Caring is Creepy (Oh, Inverted World Album), by The Shins



I recently finished reading Middlesex, a brave and commendable novel by Jeffrey Eugenides - author previously made famous by his pilot novel adapted for the big screen, The Virgin Suicides. While there are numerous reviews for the aforementioned book in most corners of print materials and indexed pages online - mostly raves, to which I nod my head in accordance - there were certain sections that struck me as poignant correlations to my (already skewed) perspective.

Towards the last few chapters, Eugenides' protagonist, Cal Stephanides speaks of San Francisco in such detail that I stop for a second and remember having seen that fog over one of my favorite cities for the first time:

"Every morning, a great wall of fog descents upon the city of San Francisco. It begins far out at sea. It forms over the Farrallons, covering the sea lions on their rocks, and then it sweeps onto Ocean Beach, filling the long green bowl of Golden Gate Park. The fog obscures the early morning joggers and the lone practitioners of tai chi. It mists up the windows of the Glass Pavillion. It creeps over the entire city, over the monuments and movie theaters, over the Panhandle dope dens and the flophouses in the Tenderloin. The fog covers the pastel Victorian mansions in Pacific Heights and shrouds the rainbow-colored houses in the Haight. It walks up and down the twisting streets of Chinatown; it boards the cable cars, making their clanging bells sound like buoys; it moves in on the Mission, where the mariachi players are still asleep; and it bothers the tourists. The fog of San Francisco, that cold, identity-cleansing mist that rolls over the city every day, explains better than anything else why that city is what it is.... and in such anonymity, personal change was that much easier."

Coincidentally, this part of the novel came to me at a time when decisions need to be made. I am well aware that in the months that will follow, a move towards that change - whatever choice it might be - will ensue. Our lives are but lists of pros and cons when it comes to paths we (often times deliberately) invariably take on.

Carole King could not have said it better: "Doesn't anybody stay in one place anymore?"

Harry of Hogwarts Harbors Hmillions

I could not quite understand it. Several years back, I don't think I ever stayed up late for a Nancy Drew book release party. Much ado about nothing? I could probably name at least 4 people who bought the book less than 12 hours after its release. There was media coverage, reader and Potter-fan commentaries all throughout. The frenzy was unbelievable. Never really got into the series and would even kid around with some of my Potter-crazy friends, "It's a cult. You all are sucked in. Get out while you can!"

The books reportedly were written in a manner that carries over a bigger age demographic than what the children/teen literature genre usually dictates. At the release of book #6-Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, stories about J.K. Rowling's book reading at the Edinburgh Castle were brought forward, news features of fans who read the book within a day (672 pages) were on every media avenue imaginable, and discussions anticipating what the end might be - well before Madame Rowling even has a chance to sit down and write it - are in countless forums. In light of that release, CNN even reported a study on how young students' overall aptitude scores in both math and verbal recently increased as a result of more encouraged reading outside the curriculum. Did J.K Rowling really make youth reading "cool" again?

(All together now: "TV will rot your brain. TV will rot your brain. TV will...)

In the Forbes Special Issue dated March 14, 2004, J.K. Rowling was valued at $2 billion for her (then) five books that sold 250 million copies. There were speculations in that issue that the "Potter craze may have already peaked." Fast forward 2006: The Forbes pundits were wrong and didn't see this coming. In the US, there were approximately 25,000 copies being sold every hour for the first 24 hours of release.

http://www.cnn.com/2005/SHOWBIZ/books/07/18/britain.sales.reut/index.html

There is this part of me that is intrigued, almost urging me to pick up a copy to know first hand what this phenomenon is all about. Perhaps am a little bit concerned to learn my opinions are wrong. Even more so, maybe I am resisting the hype and be in turn scoffed at by those whom I initially pointed my finger at. Either way, I could only wish that my success story will be along the lines of Harry Potter's creator. J.K. Rowling, the former welfare mother could not have possibly fathomed what her creative burst of genius produced: another sub-culture with a magic of its own.

Sun-fried Contemplations

In the background: Blonde on Blonde (Let Go Album), by Nada Surf

At home on a Saturday night - somewhat of a good thing to recuperate from the after-effects of the sun. Spent a day at Newport, RI - which almost didn't happen thanks to the ever-changing New England weather patterns that initally told us this Saturday was expected to have scattered thunderstorms at 74 degrees. Woke up and saw the sunshine peeking into my room. Nice... Plans to hit the beach were reinstated, at least for me. After much plan-revising - Lena calls me enroute to I-95 South, telling me they have decided to come along.

Would have been nice to get into the water but as we scanned for some real estate on the sand, I saw what seemed like cranberry waves hitting up the shore at Easton's beach. Quite disturbing - but not all too much for me to turn away back to the Boston so soon. Walked around town and got a late lunch-early dinner at Christie's. Sun was setting as we hit home - driving soundtrack left room for discussion on certain tunes:

* Diamond Sea, by Sonic Youth - It had been quite some time since I last fully revisited this song. The track stretches out for 20 minutes and we reminisced on the times past when we listened to this: "Yeah, I would listen to the bulk of it - do my laundry and do some yard work.... come back in the living room and the song will still be on!" While I thought it was a good tune at that time (translate: those few token years when I would wear torn 501's and DM's outside of the constricts of that high school uniform.), this afternoon brought me back into that circle of songs and their meaning. "I wonder how it came to be my friend. That someone just like you has come again. You'll never, never know how close you came...until you fall in love with the diamond rain," Stands as a poetic rendition of an addiction and a split second of lucidity.

* Hey, Chilly P: You owe me 20 bucks worth of clams. "Summer Breeze" is indeed by Seals and Croft. And yes, I like chocolate... "What gave it away?"

Anywhere-but-here Syndrome: Catalogued Entry #1
(might have been the second one if counting the first post)

When I searched Google for "US cities with best weather," this spot showed up in the sponsored results - with no other seemingly viable websites listed on the natural results:

Top Cities to Live and Work:
www.findyourspot.com - Take a quiz to find out the best cities in America that match you.

I suppose that just as people's preferences are unique when it comes to ideal climate, so are their factors in determining what's acceptable. Would not want to be in the chronically hot areas right now, nor would I want to be freezing in an icebox come winter. Where's that fine balace of everyday 75 - 80 degree days (non-humid)? In light of the recent heatwave that hit Beantown - I thought of this view from my room not so many months ago. Sure, the seasons will come around - not that I am enthralled at the 5 some-odd weeks left for summer. Sent this photo (March 2005, 3rd week) to several friends/family in California and Manila, only to be told that I was full of it.

On the Bubble and Living Within One's Means

If not here, then where? There had been a good amount of talk about the ongoing housing bubble, along with speculations of those denying presence of said phenomena.

Most overpriced cities: http://moneycentral.msn.com/content/invest/forbes/P123785.asp?GT1=6706

Riskiest cities to by a home: http://biz.yahoo.com/special/re05_article1.html

Great. Should I start looking into Wyoming?