Destination Unknown

Yesterday’s word-of-the-day from dictionary.reference.com made me pause and think, because not only was it a word that I’ve been searching for days, but also because it’s an eerily keen commentary of the present society.

recidivism \rih-SID-uh-viz-uhm\, noun:
A tendency to lapse into a previous condition or pattern of behavior; especially, a falling back or relapse into prior criminal habits.

I am aware that absolute safety is fictional and that in every second a new risk is born. I also know that not everyone can defend against criminals, and that’s why there are people trained, hired and paid to protect the public. Unfortunately, one of the many conditions that comes to mind when I think of the word "recidivism" is our country’s security guards.

Whether or not the Glorietta explosion was caused by an accident or a bomb does not matter for security guards. In the next few days they will definitely be more uptight. They should, as while I’m not castigating their negligence as the root of this tragedy, I can’t say they did their jobs well either.

What’s funny about them is how quickly they devolve back to leniency. October 19, 2007 wasn’t the first time Glorietta exploded; bombs detonated here few years ago. Whenever this happens, guards start getting very on edge, they’d thoroughly inspect everyone’s packages and they’d bring along bomb-sniffing dogs. Give it a couple of months and they’re back to lax - dipping drumsticks, chatting while "inspecting", touching the outside of pockets (or sometimes touching dubiously close to your privates), or flat-out ignoring you. Honestly, a preschooler could teach a bomber how to bypass these morons.

As an example, I’m not saying the condominium where I live is as important as Glorietta, but just last Sunday (and this was just two days after the Glorietta) I came home only to find that the building guards have all fallen asleep. With all the media disseminating reports of Glorietta, you would think that they’d be less lazy for a few days. But they aren’t, which is sad, because if this is any indication of the state

Makati

security guards will fall back to, then all the casualties (such as this) will be in vain.

Please don’t let this tragedy repeat.

(This is just cross-posted from my other blog, http://nightdreamer.i.ph. I realize that nobody comments on this blog, but I’m taking chances in case some readers here are feeling benevolent).

Hey all.

In
my web design course (I’m currently taking up their Dreamweaver
subject) I was asked to create an architectural web page with a
testimonial section.

I do not want to make the testimonials
overly reverent or ultra-serious like those stone-faced actors of
Jumong. Who needs that? I don’t, especially since I’m creating a
portfolio site of a German architect, Schufer Mann, who is merely a
product of my screwed-up imagination. I’m skewing towards testimonials
that are hilarious, ridiculous and puns-decorated. I also happen to be
busy with other jobs, so if anyone could submit the kind of
testimonials that I’m looking for, I promise to give you many
thank-yous and I might give you something awesome if we end up meeting
personally. ^_^

Here are some of the sample testimonials:

"Schufer Mann possesses visions envied by superheroes." - Tess T. Moni, Italian Designer

"Redefines postmodernism and turns avant-garde to savant-garde." - Eddy Oth, receipient of 2007’s Nobull Prize

"I said it too many times, but he’s a genius, genius, genius!" - Redd un Danci, CEO of Reap It Consultants

"His architects turn my life around, from ‘oh dear’ to ‘oh great!’" - Aina Kho, society pages editor of Daily Dally

"That’s hot!" - Aries Hilton, MENSA member

"He could create a wonderland where the rest of the world is Dorothy." - Booker Kristic, book critic

"He’s capable of creating a Petronas in a single stroke!" Sir Price N. G. Lee, editor of Oh! Very State! magazine

"My man’s the shiznit, dawg!" - Tuk Strit, Rapper of Straight Outta Tondo 

Anything else you’d like to add? The comment box is open.             

Today’s entry won’t be like everyday else’s. There won’t be a fancy
pretentious opening statement, no pseudo-poetry or some kinda Quixotic
phrasings ripped straight from the lyrics of a jazz standard (oh all
right, I’m taking a shot at Murakami. Heh. His Wind-Up Bird Chronicle
is riveting). I’m doing none of that, because I’m weary. Nay, that’s
inadequate. It’s more like I’m punch-drunk with tandems of bad lucks
that do not want to end.

Series of unfortunate events do have a beginning (heh). Mine began
last Tuesday as I tried to finish the final book of Harry Potter within
two nights. I succeeded in that, while also realizing that the book was
a dud. Just imagine the stupidity.

Actually, my anger with the series’ denouement was the least of my
troubles. Since I spent a week not getting enough sleep, I became
groggier, until I contracted cold and fever. Makes sense - the
Pottermania fever must pass after all.

I had planned to spend the weekend going out with someone. And by
some weird whirlwind of events, it was my ex-crush who agreed to go out
with me. The day came, and I met her, accompanied by two of our former
classmates. One is actually her girl cousin, the other is a guy who’s
been their kith for a very long time. (For the sake of anonymity, I’m
going to assign them pseudonyms. Trish is the ex-crush. Daisy is the
cousin. Chad is the guy).

I haven’t seen any of them in ages, so I was delighted that we could
all meet up. I’ve never been a close friend of Trish, and I was happy
that I was given this chance to reconnect with her. I no longer want to
be her lover, but we can always be just friends, right? To be honest,
everyone (including Daisy and Chad) from my school knew that I liked
Trish. I courted her for two years, but was stymied by how aloof she
was to me. We hardly talked to each other, and when we did, our
exchanges rarely lasted for more than two minutes. Realizing the
futility, I eventually quitted. This was back in the high-school days.
Eventually, another guy (pseudonym: Kurt) ended up becoming her
boyfriend.

It’s been more than 7 years since. 

The first hour of our meeting was okay. We were catching up. We
updated each other on how we and few of our other classmates are.
Although nowhere near as animated as an exchange between Jackie Chan
and Chris Tucker, this was better than my “conversations” with Trish
from way back.

Trish also frequently asked Chad about her ex-boyfriend, since they
were close friends - she hasn’t let go. This was also why she and Chad
started doing something very annoying. They would whisper amongst
themselves. And when that’s impossible, they would refer to the ex as
“ghost” (0f course this is about Kurt. What kind of dumbass do they
take me for anyway?). It was clear that they were deliberately keeping
me in the dark (I’m sure of it. Her cousin, Daisy, knew all about it
herself, though she didn’t participate in the discussion quite as
much). Not wanting to pry into matters they clearly don’t want me
involved in, I had no choice but to play dumb and be quiet.

What I find bewildering is why they keep doing these today. I don’t
mind not knowing a secret but if they don’t want to let me in on it,
was talking about it on this very day so important? They see each other
all the time, I haven’t seen them in five years, so why should they
keep doing that? Didn’t they realize just how rude they were?

Did they also think that I was dense, that I couldn’t figure out who
this “ghost” is? Paris Hilton could’ve deduced their “secrets”!

I had better time with Daisy, who also wasn’t my close friend.
Unlike Trish, Daisy made conscious efforts to strike conversations with
me, perhaps realizing that the rest of them were making me – and
perhaps herself - out of place. She was fun and was more endearing than
Trish. Ironically, we ended up splitting into two groups and traveling
separately. Chad and Trish still talked about Kurt while the rest of us
secretly schemed to get Trish her birthday gift - it was Daisy’s idea
and I didn’t resist it. What’s ridiculous is that I paid for a birthday
cake and a gift. Talk about foolish sacrifice that don’t amount to jack
squat. See that, Trish, I’m totally caring for you while you and Chad
douche around about Kurt! Ain’t life grand?

We parted ways and I came away with few realizations. No matter what
I do, Trish is one bridge that I can never never cross. I stopped
courting her for precisely that reason, and what has she learned all
these years, that it’s still ok to treat me like a steaming pile of
garbage? As for Chad, I’m disappointed at him. Chad and I actually saw
each other 3 years ago, and it was very cool hanging out with him,
which makes it baffling why became a royal jerk today. I didn’t meet
Kurt, but if this is the kind of Trish he ended the relationship with,
I give him my congratulations. Now for Daisy, I am thankful for her
attempts to prevent this outing from becoming a total disaster for me.
It actually was, but like anodyne, Daisy made the pains more
sufferable.

In retrospect, I really should have just gone out with Daisy alone,
so that the rest of them can spend quality alone time worshipping Kurt.

Oh, so you think my tirades have ended? You’re naïve.

After the outing, I felt iller. And so I spent the rest of the weekend lying on bed, recuperating.

And although I haven’t fully recovered, I went to the office a while
ago. Now this is like a normal Monday and everybody knows Monday is a
worker’s most dreaded day, so it may be pretty normal for everyone not
to be in high spirits. That wasn’t my problem.

My problem is our office’s pest control, which blows, quite frankly.
I am in no way exaggerating this, but throughout the day, over fifty
tiny little roaches crawled on my table. My coworkers also had the same
problem. And take note, we also used to have a watercooler that doubled
as a swimming pool for these cute little critters. So I took the
initiative to tell “the mistress” this problem. But instead of offering
me any assistance, she was so willing to blindly defend my company’s
cleanliness by enlightening me with an “acerbically witty” (i.e.
sarcastic) comment on how I’m not cleaning my table. Err, I hope she
notices that I rarely put any food on my desk, and why she chose to
scold me while ignoring the gluttonous bunch who eat during work is a
mystery Stephen Hawking and Sherlock Holmes combined couldn’t solve
(well, actually they could. An infant could. Try “theory of
favoritism”.) I’m not even asking her to become a house-maid and that
she should wear aprons and wipe tables. All I’m doing is reporting to
her, hoping that she would contact a Pest Control Service. So why did
she have to resort to cheap retorts? Did I need that? If sarcasm is the
lowest form of wit, hers is definitely the nadir of it. Would it kill
her to actually do something while shutting her trap?

And this ends the short accounts of the last five days. Have my
series of bad luck ended? I don’t know, but nothing has been done about
my table yet.

Sometimes,
the status messages of your friends from Yahoo Messenger can be very
insightful. I should know, because my status messages are often
described like that.

I don’t think they’re joking either.

Kidding
and (mock) bragging aside, today’s insightful message came from one of
the brilliant minds from my batch. Dan Dizon, in particular. He was a
very influential student and has been elected the student council
president for the College of Engineer. He is now taking his masters
degree at Berkeley. Needless to say, his status message often contains
sharp observations and is laced with dark humor. (Note to Dan: please
send me money for being your endorser. You’re rich anyway.)

His status message read, "If the company pays you x, you are worth 10x. That’s business."

I’m very sorry to tell you, Dan, but I disagree. Although I am not honored with farce fierce and flabulous fabulous writer Malu Fernandez’s "acerbic tit wit", my observations is better than your observations!

Behold, my Phoenix Bites Tiger Ass kung fu technique!

• if a company pays you x, you’re actually worth y. Not the same, but you bet y > x.
• When in conference room, however, your boss is worth Z. Meaning, nakakaantok (translation: yawn-worthy).
• During overtimes when only a boy and a girl remains in the company, the office is worth X to the power of 3.

[Dan interrupts: Brilliant, Jou!]

Nah. More like, ass-like.

Resuming…

• When you’re absent, you’re worth 1/x where x is an integer. The rest of the company will spend their watercooler/lunch breaks speaking ill of every absent colleagues.
• Your contract is worth 0 (zero) if you work in a country whose legal system is as efficient as my country’s.
• A Starbucks coffee most likely costs more than X. So save money, dammit!
• That’s business!
• "That’s
  business" is worth infinite. Above the law. Barbie toys has leads?
  That’s business. Tim Yap condones hedonism? That’s business. Recto
  certificates? That’s business. Tasaday? ZTE? Iraq War? Paris Hilton?
  That’s… well, you do the math.