Destination Unknown

(Note: This is a rewriting of one of my very old blog posts)

Quick, answer me. Can you recommend a place for social gathering?

Starbucks? Ha, I thought so.

Indeed, having conversations in a coffee shop is a great way to
spend time with your friends, but have you ever gone there alone? Try
it, it’s fun! As long as there are many other customers, you can
observe them until you forget the passing of time.

At first, you’ll find that classifying Starbucks’s customers can be
difficult. All of them (okay, most of them) talk loudly, act like an
idiot and dress as though they’re either going to a red carpet or going
commando. Fear not, because with experience, you can discern their
varieties. Based on my unscientific but entirely self-sufficient, sexy,
and insulting-but-accurate findings, I have written this guide hoping
to assist you in seeing the differences among the species (multiplying)
in the land of Starbucks.

The Techie

Identification. The Techie thinks Starbucks is an expo. You
can spot one with a smart phone, iPhone, PSP, MacBook, Cybershot, iPod,
and car-key-for-an-SUV scattered on the table. The Techie will not only
display personal belongings, but also, with excellent voice modulation,
announce them. You have to give The Techie credits though; at least The
Techie is doing favors for the customers in case they go blind. I mean,
hearing The Techie advertise personal belongings as if writing
checklists, that is IMPORTANT! Do you agree (Y/N)?

Sample speech. “Look, my iPhone is slick!”, “My Cybershot is slick!”, “My iPod is slick!”, “My SUV is slick!”…

The Yuppie

Identification. With optimistic plans, The Yuppie
(different to lowercased yuppie, who is simply a peripatetic person
wearing impractical [and smelly] attires) believes in living the
multimillionaire life by, first, APPEARING like it. And what better
place to “live the dream” by going to Starbucks and pretending it’s an
office? The Yuppie often have their head (heads?) huddled at the
laptop, with spreadsheets or Powerpoints open, to give a heady
impression of being a busy and ambitious “career person”.

Sample speech. “I’d like to direct your attention to my
impactful presentation for cost-benefit plan that will reimburse your
invested finances due to incentivized research conducted by opportune
income of…”

The Writer

Identification. Don’t shoot me I am NOT a writer! And I
don’t bring laptops to Starbucks. The Writer (again, different to the
lowercased one, who is simply a Bohemian who hugs a tattered dictionary
when sleeping), on the other hand, does not only have a laptop handy,
but also “writes” in the Starbucks just to impress a crowd, hoping a
few attractive patrons will notice, as though writing is a performance
arts. Do not classify those who scribble in their notepads as The
Writer. In the word of The Writer “extraordinaire” Tim Yap, notepads
are passé!

Sample speech work. Waspy McWasp, the ruggedly
handsome, world renowned Harvard professor of Oceanography is summoned
to Europe to analyze the mysterious murder of a famous computer
programmer. While there, he discovers evidence of the unimaginable -
the definitive and substantial proof of cold fusion. He must work with
Lara, the extremely beautiful and intelligent police detective, in
order to beat the clock and unlock the mystery. (source)

The Traveler

Identification. I’ve never seen this myself, but my friend
spotted The Traveler numerous times. The Traveler will go on an
expedition, with the approximate distance of Zulu to Maguindanao, just
for a sip at Starbucks. In my friend’s case, she saw a Traveler dash
out of St. Paul QC to Tomas Morato’s Starbucks during an hour of lunch
break.

Apparently a species that are either extinct, or have “exported” to
other groups from this guide, since Starbucks are now everywhere.

Sample speech. None, as I’ve never been around them.

Frapsters

Identification. Ever drank plain, no-cream, no-sugar and
no-cocoa coffee? Yes? So do you think they’re too dark and bitter? Yes
again? I have news for you then: that, which we call the blended
coffee, is what coffee is really meant to taste like, same way as real
tea is not served with sugar.

Starbucks has a predominantly frappucino-sipping crowd, as though
the coffee shop is instead a halo-halo salon. Granted, blended coffee
is an acquired taste, and I’m not suggesting that you must try it. But
you know who cracks me up? Frapsters. Frapsters are different in that
they say they LOVE coffee but only choose to drink Frappucino, i.e.
coffee with added milk, crushed ice and too-much calories. They’re
annoying in the same way as *those people who say they listen to
classical music because they like Maksim* are.

The following can replace the asterisked statement.
Self-proclaimed jazz fans who only listen to Kenny G. Batman haters who
only saw Adam West shows. Miles Davis name-dropper who has never heard
of the Kind of Blue album. Holier-than-thou Bible-thumpers who actually
live in avarice.

Frap-touters

Identification. Could anything be more irritating than that
Frapster-whippersnapper who can’t shut up about ordering frappes?
Frap-touter is the frapster-demigod who treats Frappucino like it’s a
trophy, such that frap-touter will take pictures holding or drinking
frappes. Said person would even bring home empty frappe cups (along
with Starbucks amenities and flyers) like it’s a trophy.

Sample speech. “Picture tayo! Picture tayo! Smile!” (spoken to the frappucino cup)

The Beauty Pageant

Identification. Don’t trouble yourself wondering whether
The Beauty Pageant (TBP) has won or not. What matters is that TBP NEEDS
to go to Starbucks all-dressed up and to take pictures there to frame
the occasion. I hear some TBP’s say coffee tastes better with gowns and
tuxedos. Maybe that’s what they call “coffee dressings”.

Sample speech. Oy, priorities! You should be looking at
them instead of listening to them, because whatever they mutter are
unintelligible white noises.

Coffeetariats

Identification. Most likely nurses. Or call center workers.
Or underpaid programmers (yeouch!). Like the no-frills proletariats,
Coffeetariats are those who sell labors to survive. Unlike the
no-frills proletariats, Coffeetariats spends more of their daily wages
in Starbucks than in their lunch, and they do it (semi-)regularly as
though they’re under rituals.

Sample speech. “Once minutes, my frappe are coming!” and so
and so. If you hear anyone trying to talk Yankee but ends up sounding
bucolic, you’re hearing a Coffeetariat.

The Linguist

Identification. A coffetariat’s “worse enemy”, The Linguist
is the schoolmarm “elitist” who nitpicks the grammar of every Starbucks
conversation. The Linguist is a self-proclaimed “renowned grammarian”
who likes to insert “French du jour”, but mostly speak in an amalgam of
English and Tagalog, preferably with the English word overstressed.

Sample speech. (Google “Tim Yap” or “Malu Fernandez”).

The Ladykillaz!

Identification. Oh yay, TEH CONV3N14NC3, I can finally use
pronouns LOLZ! As you may have surmised, The Ladykillaz is a guy who
writes for a men’s magazine (or a guy under the pretense of it). He
tries to attract attractive crowds by engaging in “intelligent”
conversations about erogenous areas, posing as a stimulant of intellect
when he’s in reality stimulating something else. And if he manages to
impress, expect the girls he is with, and promptly dumped the next
morning, to be “samples” for his new write-up at FHM or UNO or a blog.
Thank you girls for being credulous, for the Ladykillaz’s thrive! Viva
sophistication, viva progress!

Sample speech. (Err, I’m trying to make my blog not-NSFW.)

Dudes

Identification. This is the inevitable and over-modulated
dudespare guys who wear the “jacket without a cause” (can someone
please tell me what practical reasons are there for wearing jackets in
this country?). It’s not like Starbucks has frigid ventilations (quite
the opposite) yet these dudes come with jacket + sunglasses + hiphop DJ
gesticulations in an attempt to look cool. Meanwhile they try upping
their “street cred” by shout-bragging their blingblings, cribs, rides
and girls and their updated FHM knowledges to sound urban (read:
gangsta). He’d also try to appear intelligent by engaging in some
“controversial” Dan Brown discussion, quoting Paolo Coelho for added
touch and citing (just citing) Pablo Neruda for the “deathblow”. The
good thing about dudes is that he’ll update you about car shows. The
bad thing is that, well, good luck finding peace and quiet when he’s
around. Diba, Vandolph?

My speech to them. Yo homey, watchoo doin hollerin
LOUD? We be seeking quiet in dis ere coffee shops, punks, coz we ain’t
got chillax, and warz in da streets, nawmean? Dis why you gotta pacify,
dawg, coz we ain’t gone flyt with no posers, y’hear! Peace out, bro,
riprizent!

Gaze
at tonight’s sky. If it won’t be cloudy, you will see the moon shining very
intensely.

Chinese
tradition marks today as the Mid-Autumn festival, an annual holiday that
celebrates the time of the year when the moon is at its brightest. You will see
us, Chinese, following (or celebrating) various regional customs (in Philippines, we
play dice games) and eating a few mooncakes, a Chinese pastry made to mark the
occasion.

Foreigners
may find it intriguing why we hold this day with high reverence. The Moon is
very bright today, so? Are we into lunar worship, or is there another
story?

Indeed,
the brightness of tonight’s moon has inspired many tales. I am going to tell
you the most well-known one.

During
the reign of Emperor Yao, ten suns took turns in illuminating the Earth. On one
unfortunate day, however, all suns had since rose together and shone
simultaneously. Because of the extreme heat, people suffered from starvation,
as water was dehydrated and no crop was harvested.

Houyi,
an ace archer, emerged. His skills were peerless, and he could even hit and
destroy celestial bodies. To save the earth, Houyi shot down 9 suns, leaving 1
to retain earth’s daylight.

The
whole world praised Houyi for his heroism, and he was made the king of China. Soon,
however, Houyi became greedy and power-hungry. He became a despot. Alas, no
force could resist the near-omnipotent Houyi, whose only weakness was age.

As
Houyi grew, he noticed his once tremendous strength was beginning to wane.
Fearful of ever relinquishing his position, he hired doctors to devise an
elixir of life. It will restore his vitality and will make him live
forever.

The
doctors succeeded and they delivered the medicine to the palace. But Houyi
wasn’t in the palace then. Because Jang’e, Houyi’s beautiful wife (side note:
unrelated to Jang Geum), didn’t want the world to forever be  subjected to
Houyi’s tyranny, she took this opportunity and drank the elixir.

To
her surprise, she began to float until she reached the moon. When Houyi heard
of this, he was devastated. He aimed his arrow to the moon, but, because of his
love to his wife, he didn’t shoot.

And
so, Houyi’s natural death ended his rule. His people remember him, both fondly
and hatefully. Fondly because Houyi once saved the world when it was scorching.
Hatefully because he ruled it with an iron fist.

Jang’e
has, however, endured in memory with the world’s unanimous reverence, as a
woman who was selfless, loving and kind. She sacrificed herself for the sake of
all, by drinking the very elixir that disguised its true intent: a means to
expel Houyi from Earth.

In
every mid-autumn, the moon is at its brightest. It is the day when Jang’e, the
woman who roams in the moon eternally, is at her most beautiful. We celebrate this
day, and we eat mooncakes, as a toast to her.

Happy
mid-autumn festival, everyone!

The adage is that time heals wounds, but can time heal mental
blocks? How, then, does one account the eventual downfall and oblivion
of one-hit wonders?

Mental block is very bothersome if one spends each day doing things
that need mental faculties. The brain is subjugated by hazes. Getting
to do anything is like researching inside a smoggy library. Worse
still, like migraine, the cause of mental block has for centuries
dumbfounded scientists. Yeah, I made the last statement on the fly, but
I’m sure that’s actually the case. ^_^

When it strikes, even if I tried to think, all I can come out with are incoherent words or phrases.

I’m too busy on top of having this stupid mental block (It’s been
two weeks now, but I haven’t felt any improvements). Like my brain, my
life has become disorganized.  To speak thereof, I’ve been trying to
write, design, read and program, but my effectivity has reached an all
time low.

I need a resolution. I am a man who wants more skills. Of the
moment, I want to be able to work with Flash and Illustrator. I also
want to polish my writing. And then, there’s drawing, which is also an
essential skill if I want to be able to create beautiful vector arts
(essentially what Flash and Illustrator is meant for). The worst part
is that I have to cram all these in my already tight schedule, and my
work has nothing to do with any of the above skills that I’m trying to
develop. Am I an overachiever? Maybe the more appropriate term is
"over-daydreamer".

So what do I need? Well, first of all, my mind badly needs to go back to its optimal state. How I wish it could come sooner.

And believe me, that’s the only half-assed concluding sentence I
could come up with. Did this blog make sense? The more appropriate
statement should be: When is the last time I ever made sense of
anything?

1) One Book that made you read it More Than Once: I’ve read Alan Moore’s Batman: The Killing Joke plenty of times now.

2) One book you would want on a desert island: A survival handbook is the most practical choice.

3) One book that made you laugh: The Dilbert Principle by Scott Adams

4) One book that made you cry: None, but would you believe that I nearly cried reading a Doraemon short?

5) One book that made you wish you had written: The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold, so I can rewrite one awful chapter.

6) One book that made you you wish had never been written: Digital Fortress by Dan Brown. Argh!

7) One book you are currently reading: Wind-Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami

One book you have been meaning to read: Quite a few: Ulysses, Ramayana, Things Fall Apart, and plenty of philosophy books.

9) One book that changed your life: An ancient Chinese text called San Shir In Guo Ching which roughly translate as Three Generations Karma Guide.

1. Don’t pronounce my surname as "Jao", ever.

2. Yes, I’m a vegetarian. That doesn’t mean I’m ignorant as to be
unaware that there’s no such thing as a "Chicken Flavored Ice Cream".
You’re neither clever nor original in being able to come up with that
"joke", because I’ve heard it a billion times, and it wasn’t funny the
first time.

3. No, I don’t hate you, but I’m not applying to any Igenportals or
other pyramid/"networking"/insert-vogue-jargon-synonymous-to-pyramiding
companies. That’s final.

4. When I ask hard questions (take, for example, "What is the source
of suffering?") I want to hear well-composed thoughts and cases, and
not easy answers. If that should take time, then use all the time
necessary. Just don’t feed me with platitudes. And security blanket
(statements) MUST go to the laundry.

5. I can handle expletives, but I hate guys who cuss misogynistic remarks in the presence of women.

6. Emotion is not a fashion statement. Stop feeling so special when you get all depressed and suicidal.

7. You’re not a writer just because you’re an eventologist. For that
matter, you’re not an -ologist just because you specialize in something.

8. Stop pretending you’re so sharp, panache-y, artistic and elite just because you know a few French phrases, monsieur.

9. When in movies and formal occasions, dammit, put your phone on silent, whippersnappers!

10. For the last time, Starbucks is not a techie expo!

11. Don’t lecture me on how in watching a movie, instead of
analyzing, I should just sit back and En-JOYYYY. That’s the laziest
justification, ever.

12. Don’t send me any cheese-spirational or "cute" SMS’s unless you’re absolutely sure it’s witty.

13. When I say I don’t watch MTV, I don’t mean I don’t like music. I
don’t like watching someone flashing their bling-blings, pimping their
ride and scoring strippers. I don’t like watching someone grudging on
some sort of garage while jumping around and wearing angst-y
trash-everything facial expressions.

14. Those tight tanktops F4 wears are yucky. I can’t stress that enough.

My prayer today went like this:

Dear Lord, forgive me for I have miscommunicated. When I posted
yesterday’s entry, I didn’t sincerely mean I want to have another bad
incident inside the bus. It was a sarcasm.  

I’m not having much luck with bus rides lately. Yesterday I was put
in an awkward situation, but that’s trifling compared to what happened
today, which was just plain annoying.

Today’s bus was quite unlike yesterday’s. Each column of this one
had two different chairs (there were two chairs on the left and on the
right). They were comfortably spaced and had adequate leg rooms between
different columns of seats. Things looked good, so I thought today’s
journey was going to be smooth. I was yet again proven wrong.

A person skinnier and smaller than I am took the next seat. As the
bus moved, I started to notice that this guy was taking too much space.
His legs were spread so wide that his knees would push mine aside, and
he leaned considerably on my seat. Whenever I tried to nudge him back
to his own space, he’d push me so he could be back to where he was.
When I inched away from him, he’d take another mile. It’s like he’s
totally gay for me. I couldn’t even tell him to stop taking my space,
because he had an earphone. To avoid body contacts with this annoying
prick, I ended up being cramped way into the corner (as I was at the
window seat).

What the hell is his problem? This wasn’t even like a bus whose
seats weren’t clearly divided: as each columns had TWO chairs. I
thought it should be pretty obvious how much space an individual should
be occupying. Was he dense or what? If he was as big as Shaq I would
understand, but he’s not taller than me, so he definitely didn’t need
to take 30% of my space! Did he think that he was a king or something?
He’s just plain irritating and obnoxious!

Damn, I’m so ticked off!

When riding a bus, I see a lot of oddities . For example, I am never
a big fan of televisions, but constantly being on buses with built-in
TV’s allows me to catch the news, and they aren’t always pleasant -
more often, they’re not. Also, because of the TV, I often glimpse
recent teledramas. In fact I have seen snippets of Meteor
Garden, and can conclude that Dao Ming Su has a bad sense of fashion
(men in tight sleeveless shirt = YUCK!) and is a prick (note to self:
act pissed-ly to the girl you love. She’ll dig that!).

The drama that I witnessed today, however, did not require being
fixated on a TV. At that moment, all I wanted to do as I got planted on
the window seat of a 3-seated chair was to doze off. What followed
proved that my choice of seat was the dumbest decision I’ve ever made.

If I am to continue this story by saying that a couple took the
remaining seats from my chair, you’ll have a vague idea at what all
this is about. Besides me was a girl who resemble Katrina Halili, and
besides her (ergo, two seats next from me) was someone who I presume is
her boyfriend. For some reasons, the girl kept looking at my direction,
and anyone with Lex Luthor’s ego will mistake this as being taken
interest of. My ego, on the other hand, wasn’t enormous. I found it
weird how she kept turning away from her boy. And then I realized: they
had been quarreling, and was on the verge of creating a scene.

I tried to ignore them. I tried hard to close my eyes and be taken
by the Sandman, but he wouldn’t come. I felt that she had an aura of
wrath and acerbity; so intense was it that all ebullient thoughts were
suffocated. Seeing her treatment to her boy elucidated that what I felt
wasn’t entirely made up. She shunned when her boy tried to hold her
hand in an attempted reconciliation. And to use the cliché, the silence
between them was deafening. Where this left me was in the middle of
Awkward-ville.

Another ride in the bus, another weird incident. Can I have another?