It seems the digital gods are mocking me.
Of all the things that could have spurred me to sketch again, I least expected it to be my Palm TX.
Oh well, let them mock.
Like I care.
Seems in this case, I've gone Machiavellian:
"I don't care what gets me to write / sketch again, just as long as it does."
Just in case you're wondering, the working title for this is "Girl with Really Big Hair"
And no. It's not self-referential. .
Sa mga dumalo sa aking ika-25 na kaarawan, maraming salamat!
Paensya na't ngayon ko lang maipapamahagi ang mga retratong ito. Nawa'y kayo'y muling matuwa sa mga ala-alang dala ng mga ito.
(Phew! I've used up my Tagalog quota for this month on that sentence alone...)
For more pictures, please go to my Flickr album.
With Valentine's Day 4 days from now, a friend of mine and I talked about what other ways a guy can give a girl flowers without actually doing so.
He suggested presenting her a framed arrangement of pressed flowers, which I think is kind of clever. Especially if you consider that it'll take some time to make those.
I, on the other hand, brought up the idea that on Valentine's day, instead of cut (and therefore, dead) flowers, a guy would present a girl a pack of flower seeds -
with the promise that he would grow these seeds until the flowers bloom.
It says a lot more than just conveniently buying a bunch from off a store.
But then again, realistically speaking, that's just a bit too "high maintenance" for some men.
On the other hand, "just some other guy" isn't exactly what sweeps a girl off her feet.
Oh well, thus another proof of this hopeless romantic...
Something I picked up from said publication.
Excerpt below:
"What Wedekind found was that women prefered the scent of a T-shirt worn by a man whose genotype was most different from hers, a genotype that, perhaps, is linked to an immune system that possesses something hers does not. In this way she increases the chance that her offspring will be robust."
I can just see it on my 25th wedding anniversary...
"Honey, I married you because of your B.O."
Now, THAT'S love.
Some people smoke.
Others drink.
Then there are those who use more "complex" recreational substances and consensual activities.
I, on the other hand, orange.
Ponkan, in particular.
There's sort of a ritual to it.
1. Score the skin to extract the oils.
2. Sniff the oil to inhale the citrus scent.
(I'm actually getting to smell the difference between Pakistan Ponkan and the ones from Shenzen. Scary, huh?)
3. Peel the orange from the bottom up.
(The top is the part where the stem should be. Ergo the opposite side of which is the bottom. But of course, you knew that already...)
4. Open up the segments into 3 different parts.
(Not necessarily equal. With the average orange yeilding about 10 segments, I usually take it apart in segments of 6-3-1).
5. If someone else is present, share the 6 segments with that person. In the absence of company, eat the 3's first, then the 6's and the single segment last.
6. Seeds are removed after popping the segment in the mouth. Never outside.
(I find opening up a segment for all to see disgusting.)
7. Said seeds are never spitted out, but rather "blown" into a fist that has been put in the front of the mouth.
(That way, people never actually see the seeds being blown out of one's mouth - which I also find equally, if not more, revolting that # 6.)
8. After last segment has been consumed, orange rind is once again scored for its scent, then carefully discarded along with the "blown out" seeds.
