As I stare into this cathode ray tube...

...I've come to realize...

...I am not as able to pull all-nighter anymore as I used to back in high school and college.
Apparently, this is what they call getting old. Darn it.

...when you're sleep-deprived, your brain exacts its revenge on you by floating around in lala land AND refusing to compose coherent thoughts when you most need it.
I know that's common sense, but when you've lost sleep over cramming for work, that's the last thing you want to happen.

...when your brain is in that aforementioned state, it's basically in cruise control.
That tends to cause you to care less about what's happening around you.

...when you're pitching a big project, common sense would tell you this is the worst state to be in.
Apparently, common sense could be NOT entirely correct all the time.


In cruise control, people seem farther away.

The farther they seem, the less you care.

The less you care, the more you seem sure of yourself.

The more sure of yourself you seem, the more convincing you look.

Moral? If there was one, I suppose it'd be:

Don't lose sleep.

But if you have to, make sure you're in cruise control mode at the most critical points.

When that's over, get the heck out of there as fast as you can
because no one wants to see an ugly crash.

Thus endeth the lesson.

photo from Flickr: The Sleep at Work Pool

An English Fairy Tale

Not that anyone cares, but I changed the title of my blog. After much consideration, I settled for a phrase from a fairy tale I read when I was only 6 or 7 years old. Yes, I was already a nerd at time. It's actually a genetic thing.

Anyway, without much ado, here's the story. What do you think would be the moral lesson to this?

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Master of All Masters

A girl once went to the fair to hire herself for servant. At last a funny-looking old gentleman engaged her, and took her home to his house. When she got there, he told her that he had something to teach her, for that in his house he had his own names for things.

He said to her: “What will you call me?”

“Master or mister, or whatever you please sir,” says she.

He said: “You must call me ’master of all masters.’ And what would you call this?” pointing to his bed.

“Bed or couch, or whatever you please, sir.”

“No, that’s my ’barnacle.’ And what do you call these?” said he pointing to his pantaloons.

“Breeches or trousers, or whatever you please, sir.”

“You must call them ’squibs and crackers.’ And what would you call her?” pointing to the cat.

“Cat or kit, or whatever you please, sir.”

“You must call her ’white-faced simminy.’ And this now,” showing the fire, “what would you call this?”

“Fire or flame, or whatever you please, sir.”

“You must call it ’hot cockalorum,’ and what this?” he went on, pointing to the water.

“Water or wet, or whatever you please, sir.”

“No, ’pondalorum’ is its name. And what do you call all this?” asked he, as he pointed to the house.

“House or cottage, or whatever you please, sir.”

“You must call it ’high topper mountain.’”

That very night the servant woke her master up in a fright and said: "Master of all masters, get out of your barnacle and put on your squibs and crackers. For white-faced simminy has got a spark of hot cockalorum on its tail, and unless you get some pondalorum high topper mountain will be all on hot cockalorum.”

This is a high topper mountain.

September 23rd

(Taken from an old journal entry, written at a time when "blog" wasn't a word yet and having a gazillion Friendster accounts was the epitome of coolness. To some people, that's still true today. Poor things...)

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Funny how you can easily move from one place that's dry and sunny to one that's soaking wet with rain - nature's mood swings courtesy of the Metro Rail Transit.

Went home from Anne's place in Boni where it was sunny and arrived at North Avenue where the rained cats and dogs.

Needless to say, had to take refuge in the shelter of the station overpass along with fellow stranded commuters.

It's interesting how you find yourself catching up on your people-watching in the most unexpected moments. Nothing really exceptional caught my eye. Well, maybe one or two.

Saw this man and woman: the man looked younger than the lady, The woman was rather large and could pass off as the guy's mother. The guy looked like he was in his late 20s or early 30s.

What caught my eye was how the lady doted on the guy and how comfortable he was with it in front of everyone. At first I thought he had some form of mental retardation, but at second look he seemed normal to me. He even made "goo-goo" faces at the woman (which made me wonder if SHE was retarded...)

Watched a kid play with a paper airplane and he was as pleased as any little boy could get with a toy. He obviously looked like just got off from school. He launched that paper plane into the air for all he was worth, completely oblivious to the sweating crowd around him and the roaring EDSA traffic below.

I guess if you choose to do so, you can always keep the child inside you. And one shouldn't be embarrassed about it. If at all, one should actually take pride in it.

So here's to the child in all of us.

If pop music were siblings...

...then I'd peg the 60s & 70s as the eldest kids - characteristically overbearing, perfectionist & high-achieving brats.

Classic rock, soul & motown of the 60s;
disco, glam rock, punk rock during the 70s.
the older kids dressed up and singers actually (gasp!) wrote songs. towards the 70s, though, they started wearing a big F--- off sign on their forehead against le établissement and everything it stood for (later emulated by younger siblings in the 90s).

the 80s where the middle children - typically driven to gain and attract attention achieved either

through musicality...

The Police

U2

Tracy Chapman

plain gimmickry...

Milli Vanilli

or a combination of both.

(obviously, that was a sarcastic remark.)

the time was marked (along with hairsprays and shoulder pads)

with the beginnings of commercial tie-ups with everything from movies to softdrinks to fund raising activities for ailing third world countries.


They weren't just in your face.

They were in your lunch boxes, your socks, your notebooks, even your underwear.

(yes, underwear.)

the youngest were born in the 90s and they were triplets:

the first was the angry kid with his "i-don't-give-a-rat's-ass" Doc Martens and flannel shirt the likes of Nirvana, Pearl Jam & Soundgarden


the second was the "so-blinged-out-you-could-get-glaucoma" hip-hop variety of Run DMC, Flava Flav and (groan) MC Hammer


and the third was the kid who seemed to prefer NOT sleeping on the same bed twice with numbers on procreation and debauchery without the lyrical allegory & allusions.

Songs like I Wanna Sex You Up by Color Me Badd, I'm Too Sexy by Right Said Fred, Let's Talk About Sex by Salt-N-Pepa.

And let's not forget Baby Got Back by Sir Mix-a-Lot that goes,

"I like big butts and I can not lie,
You other brothers can't deny
That when a girl walks in with an itty bitty waist
And a round thing in your face
You get sprung, wanna pull out your tough..."

Poetic.


Which brings me to present day.



I'd say today's pop music is much like the "accident" mom and dad had thinking daddy's little boys had already gone into retirement.

There was no real intention to make it, but since it's there, they might as well put it out.


Okay, it's relatively young, so it's too early to tell its personality (if it has one at all).

But after seeing all the rehashes, all the remakes and all the covers, it makes one hope that for this generation's sake,





"Papaya" will not be the defining song of this age.


One can only be so (un)lucky.

Semantics

according to Messrs. Merriam & Webster:

: the study of meanings: a: the historical and psychological study and the classification of changes in the signification of words or forms viewed as factors in linguistic development

: the meaning or relationship of meanings of a sign or set of signs; especially : connotative meaning b: the language used to achieve a desired effect on an audience especially through the use of words with novel or dual meanings

==============================

I found this while browsing through the toys department at Landmark in Trinoma. While I was able to take a pic, I failed to check where this was made.

I suspect China, though.

Where else can you slap on this kind of copy on a product and think it'll sell to English speakers?


But that, my friends is not the true motivation of this post.

I write this because of what's on the other side of that box.



Does semantics explain why this seems so wrong?


Then you contextualize this label to the earlier picture.

IT'S INTERESTING ALRIGHT!

I wracked my brain trying to figure out what the geniuses who marketed this piece of choice work were possibly thinking when they conceived of this.

After much pondering I remain stumped...

...who finds chickens cute anyway?!?!?!

I don't even want to think about what kinds of conversations would come from the child who'll have the unfortunate fate of being given this toy.

Mom: So, kids, what did you do this afternoon?"
Kid 1: " I played with my Barbie."
Kid 2: "I played with my Zoids Liga."

Kid 3: "I played with my (insert name of toy)."


May heaven forgive the idiots who made that damn toy....


...because I certainly won't.