Wednesday, June 27, 2007


so returning to dubai from amman, i was lucky enough to be the first people into the gate are after they opened it for boarding. i quickly scanned the area and strategically sat next to the door leading to the plane, to avoid the lines leading forming there. i sat down, place my jacket next to me and got my book out.

a few minutes later the guy announced the flight was boarding. i closed my book, put it back in the bag, collected my jacket and got up. the queue had already formed. what the fuck. it was like the people were all wired to go, a moment after the announcement was, well, announced, you could hear a moment of silence, when people made sure it was their flight that was being announced, and practically dashed to the door. i am still amazed.

i am also entertained by the way people traveling walk. they have this determination on their faces, this purpose to their walking. they all have serious (or tired) expressions yet they all walk in a quick, hurried way, rather reminiscent of early black and white movies. you see serious events taking place (the first flight, opening of an important building, etc), but the people move quickly and the whole time you're thinking "look, they look just like charlie chaplin"

Saturday, June 16, 2007

can't let him go

the first time you noticed the snake creeping out of the sleeve of his t-shirt. not a real one, of course, but a tattoo adorning his muscular arm. he had this thing about him, this air of indifference that beaconed you to go forward, to introduce yourself, to hook up. you'll turn his indifference into love and care.

the second time it was the beard and long hair, tied in a ponytail. the worn-looking leather jacket, the air of restlessness. this was a man who never felt at home wherever he was, who had the wind blowing in his hair. he barely glanced your way, he was too busy nurturing his drink, he looked right at home in this bar, like the countless others he's been to. he will find home with you.

the third time the artist in him was practically screaming at you to seek him. he played the guitar, wore black t-shirts and when he looked at you he saw right through you. he was, after all, the band's songwriter. he's been with more groupies than he can remember, but none of them are you, none of them have your style and grace, none of them can make him settle down.

the fourth time it was his experience at life. he runs, he walks, he flies, he drives off-roads, he scuba dives, he sky dives, he's been half around the world seeking adventure. you can't stand the prickle on your arms, the tingle in the back of your throat when he's close. you can't believe how great he is, how he's been there and done that. he'll take you with him from now on.

why you always end up in tears is beyond you. why every time you give him a chance he ends up hurting you is a mystery to you. why you're attracted to him all over again every time you see him is tiring you. you know he's not good for you, that you need someone mature, a real man to take care of you, but you're just not attracted to them. and as you're wiping the last of your tears, as you're dusting yourself off, you see him again, and this time he has this tan, dark eyes, darker hair and his girlfriend by his side. and the tingle is back.

Thursday, June 14, 2007

on destruction

It was the Archimandrite's conceit, where a severe lesson had to be taught on a planet capable of supporting such a mark, that a city by the sea, which was either itself guilty of resisting or judged by him symbolic of resistence shown by others on the planet, be remade in the image of his beloved Junch City, back on Leseum9 IV. If a people would resist him, either while undergoing conquest or enduring occupation, they would suffer, of course, but they would be part of something greater at the same time and they would, even in death, even in the death of much of their city, be the unwitting and unwilling participants in what was, indeed, a work of art. For here, seen from this hillside, was there not a new Faraby Bay? Was that slot through which the waters thundered, shaking the ground, not another Force Gap? Was that piling tower of steam, first drawn straight up then stroked to the horizon, not a kind of signature, his very own flourish?

Iain M. Banks
The Algebraist

publicly held

i have shares in a publicly held company. they're not many shares, enough to make me curious about the way the prices are going but not enough to make me worry about the market overall. i get invitations to shareholders meetings every time they're held (albeit i get the invitations a few days too late). now owning a very minor share in a company and getting invited makes me feel special, part of a bigger whole (no matter how insignificant i really am).

what's more interesting is the way that public companies are scrutinized by their shareholders, on a quarterly (3 month) basis. profits are down, people sell their shares and the company is screwed. profits are up too high (that is, above projections) and people sell their shares because the company can't seem to manage itself and will get screwed the following quarter. too many screw-overs and the ceo is gone. more screw-overs the board is grilled. accounting scandal? bye-bye cfo.

so in a publicly held company every shareholder can affect the flow and decisions of the company, as per their share, the managers are scrutinized every quarter, mishaps usually means that heads will roll, and you can't screw around.

sounds to me that they're better democracies than most modern countries.

Tuesday, June 05, 2007

pipe prases

for those who deal with filipinos, you will need to learn the following:

pox = fax
sarpar = server
compo pipe = combo five
conpicuration = configuration
pipteen, pipty = fifteen, fifty

Sunday, June 03, 2007

i love you

it's not that i don't trust you, it's just all the guys you talk to. i mean, if i knew them, i would be totally ok with it. so yeah, i'd appreciate it if you didn't talk to other guys.

no, no, no, i don't want you to stay home all week long baby. i understand that you have long, stressful working days, but so do i. and you have to understand, the thought of you going out and people seeing you out and about, makes me really uncomfortable. i mean, i'm not there to protect you and make sure you're safe. i mean, go out with my friends if you want, i really wouldn't trust other people.

of course you can chat with other people, that's what msn is for. i just mean that when i'm there, i really hate it when you're not 100% focused with me. of course i don't talk with anyone else while you're around. yes baby, i love you.

Saturday, June 02, 2007

glittering lies

so the question i would like some form of answer to is: what the hell do girls see in gold?

i've had the displeasure of going through a shopping trip in dubai's gold souk. the heat, the throngs of indians, and, of course, the gold. i mean the amount of ugly yellow is mind-boggling, tons over friggin tons of it. and all looking the same, all so ugly. but even then, the biggest mystery remains the fascination the ladies have with it. again, a cultural stereotypical fascination with what it means rather than what it is. it's yellow metal, for fsm's sake.

but no, look at me, i'm wearing a kilo of gold, that MUST mean something.