Ice Carvings

funny how when you buy toys for your kids, you pick two things: 1. The toys you enjoyed as a kid, especially those with much improved features. we're talking about three decades of research and development, so they're bound to get cooler. or 2. The toys you wanted before but you were either too poor, too old, or too clumsy to get. I got elan a toy biplane for Christmas, one held together by lug nuts and comes with a power screwdriver. Despite the fact that the kid is barely a year, and this toy is designed for 3 years old and up, i still wanted him to have it, as i was afraid that by the time he's 3, it wouldn't be on the market anymore. I got a similar toy back when i was three or four and instead of a power screwdriver, came with a plastic wrench. I'd spend hours playing mechanic, making plane noises and alternately assembling and disassembling the plane without even considering the damn thing was too fat that it wouldn't fly at any point. It was fun

With only a few days before 2k11, yours truly is proud to say that he survived 2010 bruised, battered and with a renewed lust for life. How can i mix such polar opposites in one sentence? It's pretty much simple: Things are gonna get better. Not bound to get better, but will get better. Over the years, i have grown to accept that most of my injuries - physical and otherwise, are of the self-inflicted kind, it would be fun to take a different mindset, especially if you're fast approaching 40, with a year-old son who has already usurped your title as King of the Curious. Part of the solution is straightforward. I'm not saying its easy, but it's not rocket science either: Let things go. While it's fun to probe and analyze and reverse engineer, it's even fun to just savor the moment. That way, I avoid making me... (lead into song..) Can we forget about the things I said when I was drunk? I didn't mean to call you that. I can't remember what was said or what

time flies when you're a slave to the grind. It's been a month since my last post and it felt like it was just yesterday. Yet the losing streak continues. I should really stop talking about the kings due to two things: 1. When they're on a roll, i invariably hex them into a nosedive. 2. When they're into a nosedive, they dive even more. Just good luck, you jerks. My Lakers-fan of a brother has long since stopped trash talking me out of indifference. --- Raffles. Ah, the momentary escape of the masses where each ticket holder is given a statistical chance of winning something big in exchange for the price of something small. I hate raffles. Last week's events gave me a chance to win the following: 1. Netbook. 2. 19-in LCD TV 3. Nokia C3 cellphone 4. Digital camera. 5. Beer tower 6. 741 million pesos It's bad enough that i already feel like the miserable wretch that i am on a daily basis, but not winning anything in 3 raffles (lotto, plant raffle, and sales raffl

Conversely (see previous blog entry), i achieved something that has been simmering under competitive fires for over 3 plus years now. I am part of the champion team of the Tuesday Basketball Club one-night tournament. And it happened with me joining the most underrated team in the 4-team special. And they won despite me! Being one of the senior members and the only one yet to win this once-in-a-while tournament, it felt good to finally nail one W down. Considering that i was robbed twice by buzzer beaters in previous events, including the most asinine game review ever: video reviews supposedly confirmed the opponent's shot came in as the horn sounded. When i went to watch the video the other guys took, the disputed shot in its entirety was totally covered by one of the players backside. But i'm not bitter anymore about that. The sweet laurel of victory is mine to cherish, until at least the next tournament scheduled early next year. ---- This is a crappy blog post. I guess I

Damn you, Sacramento Kings. here we go again. the moment i post something about the damn team, they go on a 3-game losing streak. From 3-1, they now sport 3-4. They just lost to a team ranked lower than them (it's possible) by 10 points at their own home court. Major, nay, epic Fail. It hurts to root for a team that loses, despite the fact it was never expected to win in the first place. It hurts to be a fan, despite the fact that the Kings haven't made money off me in the form of tickets, merchandise, or game broadcasts. Even the fans at Sactown Royalty have set a new record of being collectively disgusted with the team this early in the season. Maybe i should stop blogging about them. Or maybe it's time to root for a new team... Heaven forbid.

NBA Basketball season is amongst us, all ye faithful. which means nothing to most of you, but is the difference between me sleeping at 1030 and sleeping at 1045. I don't actually watch entire games (save for Kings games whenever the opportunity arrives) on a daily basis, as i loathe the daily fare Basketball TV has scheduled for us: a. Teams better than the Kings - why the hell should i watch them? b. Teams worse than the Kings - see a. As of this writing, my beloved team is mired at the middle, with 3 wins and 3 losses and nowhere near its potential. Add to that a declining fanbase (especially here in the country), the possibility of moving to another city, and the seeming disinterest of a number of national sportswriters in the US, and you'll probably ask me the next time i see any of you: "Why the Kings? They're nobodies." (although even more probable is that nobody gives a flyin' frick and move on to the next blog entry. Hence no need to ask questions wher

I caught a glimpse, but its been forgotten So here we are again I made a vow, to carry you home... home I really tried to do what you wanted It all went wrong again I made a vow, to carry you home If you fall sick, if you pass out I figured it out, I can see again - Bloc Party, "So Here We Are" This just works on so many levels... sigh.

For those of you who read the previous entry, you'd probably expect this by now. I bought the two remaining books of the Millennium trilogy and had to finish it, in the same way that after four good books, i had to read the rest of the Harry Potter series. At least Millennium didn't suck like HP. Harry Potter could die and resurrect himself in the last two books and i couldn't care less. Oh wait, he did pretend to die in the last book. Ugh. Anyway, I think Larsson inadvertently stumbled upon The Successful Formula for Writing Trilogies: 1. Book One should be standalone and bring enough of a good story, as well as an intriguing plotline. 2. Book Two should be a cliffhanger. The bad boys usually win at this point. 3. Nobody cares about Book Three at this point except to finish it, as everybody knows the hero/ine will win, and the bad guys dead or shamed into less threatening day jobs, so our expectations have been set. But might as well end it with a bang. Or happily. Mostly,

Today marked a rare day where i voluntary stayed home to nurse a sprained foot. I'd like to say it was entirely basketball-related, but in all honesty, the whole day was bad for my feet. It started in the morning when i decided to wear my old loafers to work because they were comfy. The sole came off the left foot at the most inopportune time and i almost fell down the stairs in pursuit of my lunch order. Despite having a pair of basketball shoes on hand (or on foot?), I was forced to wear flip flops the rest of the time at work simply due to color coordination problems: my pants were khaki and my baller shoes where black and grey. The style police won this round. Later that day during basketball (tuesday nights are the only time when i offset my beer consumption with actual exercise), i tried sidestepping like i was weighing 130 lbs, and just like that, reality became slow and blurry and my life flashed before my eyes. My left Nike decided to stay put while my body shifted to the

We are all witnesses. Especially the past few days. I have done my best to keep silent but I cannot, in good conscience, let it go without saying anything. Short of switching allegiance from the Kings to the team where The King once held court, I held you in high esteem, and considered you my last best hope. You were supposed to be the One King who could do what the Kings could not: topple the evil empire out West, even if at the expense of my team that never wins. You never even made it that far, your dream matchup with your fellow shoe endorser never came to fruition. Simply put, your team never showed up for the dance. And all the while, the cold blooded snake won it all two out of three times. I found your game refreshing, your brute strength indefatigable, and your vision uncanny. The game is yours for the taking, and although you always threaten to break new records every game, you seem more interested to display trick shots during shootarounds and take imaginary pictures of your

yesterday marked the return leg of my last trip as "the guy" for south luzon. Fittingly, a buddy mentioned as we were parting that i first met him during Parada ng Lechon and I was saying goodbye 3 paradas later. I felt sad but managed to smile, but then i could've sworn i heard him mutter " Who cares ?" as he turned around... As we traversed the length and breadth of the asphalt, i tried to gather sweet memories of my short stint here at the provinces that i brazenly adopted as my own, only to be paranoid that the residents were really anxious to see me go. I tried to retrieve from my memory palace the favorite activities and get-togethers that we did in behalf of the name we carried. Strangely, all i got were moments of pure embarrassment (for both yourself and the name you carried) by falling asleep or puking at the most inopportune time (or person). Blame the long travel. I tried to cram into my mind the thousands and thousands of kilometers or roads that le

... I can't. --- Please forget the words that I just blurted out. It wasn't me, it was my strange and creeping doubt. It keeps rattling my cage, and there's nothing in this world will keep it down. Even though I might, even though I try, I can't Even though I might, even though I try, I can't. So many things that keep, that keep me underground. So many words that I, that I can never find. If you give up on me now, I'll be gutted like I've never been before. Even though I might, even though I try, I can't Even though I might, even though I try, I can't. If you give up on me now, I'll be gutted like I've never been before. Even though I might, even though I try, I can't Even though I might, even though I try, I can't. - Radiohead, I Can't --- More importantly, i guess i shouldn't. I don't know. I'm adding a year to my grand total pretty soon and i feel as confused as the day i was born...

Asked yet again to choose between Boston and Los Angeles to win it all this year, i resolve with all finality to stay away from the NBA Finals. I hate both teams. I'm not sure which one i hate more. Just because I temporarily switch allegiance to some other team (Houston, Portland, and Phoenix) during playoffs where my beloved Kings didn't figure in, that doesn't mean i have to choose a side. Especially if you're stuck in a finals match between Scylla and Charybdis. One is a team that illogically embodies burning fire and team concept, despite featuring players known for being both old and egomaniacal. The other team relies too much on the heroics of a similar egomaniac (although lately he's just being projected as a stone-cold killer). Supporting cast of deferential players include my favorite endorser for crazy pills. So, no more bets. I'll gladly watch the games and maybe enjoy moments of pure sports joy, but far be it for me to cheer the last remaining pair

Having received ugly looks from my housemates for using the TV to watch either the NBA playoffs or play the office or family guy reruns, I knew it was time to switch channels. Having fallen out of love with JackTV because they show too much wrestling (which I also fell out of love with when I reached 30), I was free to engage in the universal pastime of channel surfing which almost always boils down to discovery channel, national geographic, HBO, and baby tv, I caught Cars on Disney channel but only managed to watch the last few minutes where Lightning McQueen left radiator springs to participate in the climactic race. Was able to watch the end credits in full though. This shows how bored I was. Flipping the remote, I came across Nat Geo's Known Universe: The Fastest. The episode talked about the theory of relativity and it caught my attention - despite the fact that I couldn't understand the explanations for the various concepts being floated around. I did manage to pick up so

i know the Church encourages us to maintain a unified front to combat the growing evil in the world, but tell me why the heck do they keep churning out different versions on how to sing "Our Father?" --- On a relatively different note, if you have time to visit this godforsaken blog, i guess you have the time to visit http://www.transparencyreporting.net/ . If, like me, you feel that your taxes are going nowhere (same as the rest of your paycheck), you at least owe it to yourself to check out this site to learn a bit about where your money is being spent. To counterbalance, the site also gives valuable info on where the money should be spent and how we John Dela Cruzes can do our share in ensuring better representation. I wouldn't bet on better government, though, as USAID helped sponsor the site... I'm just saying. After visiting the site and knowing more, you could now just be like me, all frothing at the mouth but too cute to care...

It's been a glorious weekend apart from the anticlimactic boxing match that brought the world to a standstill. I managed to leave work for two whole days and resumed my normal, predictable, and didactic life. So what does one do to spend two days of freedom? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Nothing in the sense that everything you do will have trivial consequences at the most. First, the hair had to go. It's been a fun ride sporting the 'do that made no sense. Long, wild and wispy. While I enjoyed it, it wasn't really practical to keep putting my bangs behind my ears during meetings with tenured managers and distinguished stakeholders, not to mention my mom. Plus, in this weather? The sessions with dinosaur jr are getting great as well. At 2 months, I think we have a pretty good understanding of each other, much to the chagrin of his mother. He now smiles at me whenever i glance at him. I guess we now communicate by eye contact a la Clever Hans. Next, axe grinding. This has