No, I haven't quit this blog yet. Its just there hasn't been any time for me to write. I don't have net access at home and I have to go to the net cafe if i wanted to surf. The morons at our office put our surfing stations out of commision and i don't know when they'll be back.

So here I am at Netopia Megamall, delirious (I am nursing a full blown cold), pounding at this slighly faggish keyboard, just to say hello to those who thought me dead. Here goes.

Hello.

Click here to see new photos. These are old ones that I thought I'd share to those voyeurs out there.

Wahoo.

Some people believe that humans are creatures of their own desires. I think there is more than a grain of truth in that statement. Humankind lost their dominion over their own bodies when they took a bite of that fruit at the garden of Eden.

Nowadays we waste away our lives toiling just so that we can have food to eat, skins to clothe us, a roof to shelter us. An even more tragic consequence of that is how, by that singular bite, our loss of dominion over our bodies was used by the Enemy for his own ends. He twisted our hungers and needs, all perfectly valid and natural when met in its proper context, into perverted desires and addictions that tear our souls inch by little inch. That is what the devil wants: our own eternal deaths.

Take a short pause and enumerate, for a moment, the many desires and hungers that define your existence. You will find that most of them cannot be truly satisfied. No hunger ever ends-- feeding it only numbens the need until you are no longer satisfied with the usual dose. After that there is no other course of action but consume more, until that limit too is reached. Our transformation into creatures of our own appetites is then complete. When that happens there is nothing left for us but eternal discontent that ends in the devouring of one's own self. That is the end the devil has prepared for us: self-destruction.

Now consider, the weakest of our hungers: that hunger for God. It is the only hunger that, when sated, also satisfies all other desires. Perhaps a more accurate description would be that, it drowns all other desires into annihilation. Sex, hunger, pride, greed, you name it, nothing else matters when God overwhelms you with His presence.

Unfortunately, that hunger for Him is normally weak in us. Once it has had its fill it has been the tendency of the human race to wander until they find themselves hungry again. Some return to Him for satisfaction, but others make the fatal mistake of trying to satisfy each individual hunger with the object of their desire, which is of course a mere illusion, another small step towards addiction.

Have you ever felt His firm hand grasping you at the collar, never letting go inspite of all the struggling you do? I have wrestled with Him too many times. I wonder why I never learn, why I always end up trying to rid myself of Him when I know that I can only be when I'm in Him? There is no other alternative for me. What a wretched fool I am to continue struggling so.

In my heart of hearts, I pray, no, I know, that He understands.

What have I done to deserve such goodness?

The reason I haven't been updating this blog is that I am adopting a pseudo-hermit lifestyle. Eversince my cold last week I (usually) went home early, hit the sack by 10AM. My weekend was spent closeted in my room, playing PC games until I shed blood for tears.

I didn't want to wander. No loitering in the malls, no watching movies on weekends. Nada. Go home straight after work, just lie on the floor during no-work days. I told a female friend last week that I felt awful because of my illness. She said that my body is telling me to slow down.

Of course I already knew that. My efforts to keep a slower pace for myself has had limited success though.

Last Friday I played 3 hours of solid Counterstrike with my officemates. It's been almost 2 years since I last played this game but after a few rounds I found out (to the dismay of my opponents) that I still had the touch. Oh yes. There's something so... liberating about kicking other people's asses, albeit virtually.

Yesteday, I went to the artistmonk's exhibit. She showed me portions of her thesis, where I was one of the characters. I have never seen such a beautiful likeness of myself drawn.

My favorite sketch is the one where she drew me sitting, staring up ahead, looking so cool while doing absolutely nothing -- just being there. artistmonk, I am deeply honored. There are no words. I didn't know that I could actually look more awesome than I do right now, but in your thesis, you somehow found a way.

That, I believe, is pure genius.

Before I knew it, I find myself in love once more.

A couple of weeks ago me and my officemates went to Club Centro along Libis as part of our despedida for a resigning colleague.

I never thought I'd be quite enamored with club/ house/ techno music, but I am. Very much.

I am convinced that the only proper way to enjoy club music is to go to an actual club and hear it being spun by the house DJ. You have to (physically) feel the beat washing over you wave after exquisite wave. No words, no name-dropping, just pure unadulterated music quite conducive to heavy-duty booty shaking.

Actually, I didn't do much booty-shaking that night. The DJ's really sucked. They kept on pulling the floor right from under our feet. They spun in such a way that people couldn't sustain a decent groove. So I spend most of the early morning on my seat with some part of my body pasted to the wall: my back, my ear, my forehead. The music was literally pulsing through the walls, through my body. An awesome, almost fetal experience.

I find it annoying when people go to the club for the wrong reasons or with the wrong attitude. They dance with their rat-like eyes darting all over the place, in the hopes of seeing some skin. Some are too self-concious, too to preoccupied with looking good, to be capable of having any fun. Some go there with their dates to smooch in some corner, in full view of the other clubbers, as if daring other people to stare at them in envy. Sheez.

Go to a club to unwind, release pent-up energy, have fun, dance, enjoy the music and the crowd. Revel in anonymous unity in the name of the Groove. Meeting a great girl would be a bonus, but not a necessity.

Oh yes yes yes.

Just when I thought things will start slowing up, a lovely night leading into a lovely day wakes me up from my hermitage.

HIGHBEAM played last night for Himig Damayan, a benefit concert for Sheehan, a friend and fellow musician diagnosed with a brain tumor early this year.

Fellow performers I talked to found the whole night strange. We all noticed that everyone who went onstage sounded really good. It's like everyone shifted to high gear for this guy, whether they knew him well or not. I haven't seen our host Melvin work up the crowd that well before. We were all hits that night, praise God. All for Sheehan.

It was great to hear Bushfire and Orange play again. Friendships were renewed. Mutual admiration was the most natural thing in the world.

It was a really lovely night.

I have never felt this powerful before. I remember testing my powers shortly after I went into college. It ended in disaster so I never used it again. I bacame careful, too careful now that I think about it.

Ah but I still have it, as I discovered last night. Isn't that grand? Now I find that after all I went through, I am stronger, wiser, more shrewd, and more powerful.

Heaven help them.

A female colleague of mine branded me a playboy over lunch once. (We were talking about my social life that noon, the reason being most engineers don't have one and they find mine interesting. Of course I'm always vague whenever they manage to con me into talking about my life outside the office, partly because I want to protect my own privacy and partly to keep them entertained and interested. I can be such a manipulative bastard sometimes.)

I of course vehemently denied the accusation. She took the entire thing out of context, and I assume she arrived at that conclusion erroneously because of my necessary vagueness. Not only is the term playboy so 80's, I also found it laughable to imagine that this highschool nerd has somehow morphed into a 21st century gigolo.

Let us consider the following hypothetical (I repeat, hypothetical) situation. Say there's this guy who goes out with several women (separately of course) within the same time period. Does he deserve to be labeled a playboy? When I say go out I mean real dates, with all its attendant trappings. Say the guy merely enjoys the company of all these women and he hasn't decided yet if he will pursue any one of them seriously. Say also that he goes out with them all to help him make up his mind.

Is that such a terrible crime?

Lest I tarnish my own reputation, I will reiterate that this is a purely hypothetical situation and that I know of no one (myself included) who is currently involved in such a scenario.

I pose these questions to all who read this. Opinion from both sexes would be greatly appreciated, if you would bother to comment on this matter.

My friend Ailene bashed Filipino Men in a recent blog post. Being the Men's rights guy that I am I commented that Filipino Women are spoiled brats and that they are too hard on their suitors. That Comment sparked a full entry, which in turn led to this.

First of all I too believe that all we humans deserve the best that we could possible get. In the realm of courtship, women should never give their precious 'yes' to men who are less than deserving. In turn, we Men should not make the tragic mistake of hanging onto the skirts of women who treat us like crap. It is a big, fat lie that we will not meet anyone better than this girl or that, because the world is teeming (oh yes) with great women. The trick is looking, or should I say hunting for them.

And therein lies the fun, dear brothers. Oh yes. So cast down your chains today and run on to freedom.

You ask us, Ailene, to be more creative in our courting styles. I ask you: what do you care about our ways of courting if you are not planning, or at least considering, on giving us a favorable answer in the end? Quick dismissal is the most humane thing you could possibly give us then.

However, consider the situation where a guy whom you are terribly attracted to suddenly courts you in that manner that you find so odious? Will you not tolerate that and tell him to go to hell? Or will you look over that defect thinking that a blissful union with him for the rest of your life would more than make up for his lack of courting skills?

I suspect, really, that you girls are attracted to this guy or that, not bacause they are good at courting you, or even waiting for (or on) you, but because their favorable qualities become apparent in the attempt to convince you of their worth. A man's good qualities are his own, if they exist, independent of his skill in courtship. How many times have you taken a liking to a man who probably doesn't know you, much less care if, you exist? If my proposition is true then it renders your insistence on 'creative courtship' weightless.

If a man who has many qualities you value offers himself up to you, why make him wait? Why prolong the inevitable, unless it is impossible?

Furthermore, I believe that a woman who does not wish to be pleased can never be pleased, no matter how hard her suitors try. Yet when a woman finally realizes this and begins to change her stance in favor of a less frigid one, mark my word, she will find the 'man of her dreams.' Or so she thinks.

For what really happened was not that her dreams became a reality, but she herself has woken from the illusions that trapped her and prevented her from facing the real thing before her, demanding to be faced. How many times have women rejected flesh and blood in favor of some faceless Ideal-Romeo in her mind? How many times have good men been torn down and reduced to shapeless green gunk because the woman they so loved was too blind to see their worth?

I believe that the imaginary Ideal-Romeo may seem to be a more viable alternative to some women because dreams do not hurt them. Imaginary lovers do not have minds of their own. They are privy to the deepest desires of their women-creators and therefore more able to fortell and answer their needs, at least in their minds.

Real Men, on the other hand, have souls that are theirs alone, unless they decide to offer it to someone else. They cannot see into your inner thoughts until you open yourself up to them. Even then they may misunderstand and hurt you in the process. Nothing hurts more that the wounds inflicted by one whom you have bared your soul to.

I would chide you too, Ailene, for insisting on pronouncing woman as womyn. Being a Christian yourself, I am sure you remeber that Woman did come from the word Man because, according to Genesis, 'she came from Man.' So do not try to dodge your destiny by insisting that you are independent from all men for all time, which is what using 'womyn' means. As long as you are unmarried you are the equal of every human you meet, but when you are finally married you are the equal of all except one man: your Husband. For that is another thing that sets Real Men from imaginary ones -- they would demand your obedience.

No, I do not believe that God wants us to reach for the stars for stars are, by nature, to be enjoyed at a distance. God wants us to meet our own Adams and Eves, bones of our bones, flesh of our flesh, right here amongst the dust. In our company. It is all well and good to dream Ailene, and I suspect that you dream still, as long as you do not remain asleep forever and confuse the dream with the future that God wants you to live, awake.

In the game of courtship, you women have the choice in the end. We bare our breasts before you and throw ourselves at your mercy. We do not ask you to accept us if we are undeserving, only to see us with eyes opened and judge us thusly.

Well, Ailene replied to my post below in her own blog. Please read it before you go on reading mine. Thanks.

One at a time.

First, do not feel insulted, Aileen, when I say that your husband will demand your submission. That is what will happen especially if both of you attempt to live your married lives according to God's blueprint. What does it matter if Husband demands it, if you are willing to give it? Is it not what we call love? Is your joy in submission any way lessened by his insistence on his right to it? God demands obedience and submission from his Church. Does it make the joy of serving and obeying Him any less?

If you truly love the man you will marry, yes he probably deserves all that you have, and I know that you will feel infinitely blissful as you surrender yourself, as much as he will be in receiving all that you offer.

Perhaps I over-reacted about the womyn thing. It is one of those words that touches a hidden nerve in me. Yet my feelings about whatever I say does not affect the truthfulness or the falsity of my statements. I sort of knew that you weren't really serious about it but I just can't let it pass. I hope we understand each other.

No, you are not the only one who knows what Real Men are up to. I live by the words Know Thyself and it never ceases to amaze me how much pain I am capable of inflicting. I know it because I have lived it. I make no excuses about the shortcomings and imperfections of my sex, and they are legion. That was exactly my point in my previous post. We are imperfect.

Yes I say that we men are not perfect, stop dreaming, and take us. But even that is incomplete, for my full words would add: IF WE ARE DESERVING. I do not ask women to lower their standards, only to examine them if they are realistic ones. I do not grudge you your right to choose, but I ask you to choose fairly. It is not pride to ask that of you. I ask that because it is just.

A wise friend of mine asked, 'When is love ever deserved?' How true, how true. Who amongst us can really say that we deserve anybody's affection? All love in this fallen world exists by grace -- both from God and from our fellow men.

Isn't it tragic, Ailene, if we think about how far we have fallen since that fateful day in Genesis? I don't think that it would have been this hard if only we (for we are guilty in our Parents) did not disobey Him. This strife between our sexes is a part of a curse. The good news is, this too shall pass and a time is coming swiftly when all will be made new once more.

You tell me that men do not know how to court. I say in turn that women do not know how to be courted. That is another point of my post. Do not put too much stock on how we court, rather use that as an oppurtunity to fairly judge a would-be husband.

I hope so too Ailene, that this will raise both our hits.

For those who texted, tagged, and called: thank you. I'm sorry that I wasn't able to reply to everyone who texted. My phone ran out of credits yesterday. Thank you for remembering.

The ugly thing about intense physical attraction is that at the start, there is the nagging fear that it's nothing but what it is: physical attraction. What if she bores me? What if I annoy her? What if she cannot understand?

Add to this the fact that I can be a bit weird sometimes. I texted several friends a quote that I found particularly hilarious this afternoon. A lot of them didn't get it. Maybe something's wrong with my sense of humor.

Nah.

Well, I surrender, sweetly. I now admit that I am more than mildly interested. I will never know if it's worth it until I taste it. Ah but I am making such slow headway! Should I or shouldn't I?

I need to meditate on this.

Have I mentioned that Wednesdays and Fridays are my favorite days of the week? The RX 93.1 Monster's Riot and 99.5 RT's 24K Friday are on during these days, respectively. They play 80's and 90's music the whole day. Retro heaven, amen. Right now Alanis Morissette is belting You Oughta Know from the depths of her soul, to the groove of Flea of the Chili Peppers.

Sigh. I spilled canned tuna oil on my shirt.

This is me, as drawn by the artistmonk. Is that cool or what?!

For those who made it to the Short List:

Be at Megamall tomorrow before 7PM tomorrow.

I treated several people to a movie last night. I asked them to arrive before 6:40. They started arriving at the cinema lobby at 6:45. Sigh. Filipinos.

I received the following that evening:

1. An mp3 CD from Ailene. I browsed it as soon as I got home and already found several gems. Can't wait to hear 'em all.

2. A portrait of my goddess Sheryl Crow from the artistmonk. I am going to frame it, place it on an altar somewhere in my room, and maybe burn incense before it. Then again maybe I should wait until Ms. Crow dies.

3. Pink bedroom slippers from Stef. I couldn't suppress a sigh as tried it on last night. It's feels like I'm wearing a piece of heaven on my feet. I think my sister is planning on stealing it.

4. Promises of more presents from Jamby and Sir Emil.

5. Lots of hugs and kisses from people I love.

All these for a measly 65 bucks a pop.

To all those who made it, thank you.

It was Lynne and Iking's anniversary that night and I thought they wouldn't make it but they did. Al and Glenda left their shop just to see a movie with me. Bunny went undertime from work just to wait for us come out of the theater. I am touched.

The problem with my birthday bashes is that people from all walks of life come. How do I keep a crowd with nothing in common other than my friendship together? Would that I could split myself and entertain you all personally. Ahh but I can't.

I thank God that inspite of this my friends still come. I truly am rich. Blessed.

I wonder how I'll celebrate my birthday next year.

I bought a DVD copy of The Labyrinth starring David Bowie and Jennifer Connelly from my favorite pirate and watched it last night. I last saw it 10 years ago, but the magic is still there. The music is awesome. I was dancing with the Goblin King while singing 'Dance magic, dance magic, dance.' David Bowie RULES!

As a friend pointed out, the Goblin King looked like a blonde Morpheus from Neil Gaiman's Sandman series. I think he even used the character as a basis (but that's pure speculation on my part). I wouldn't blame him if he did.

***
'Tell me who your friends are and I'll tell you who you are' is how the old saying goes. I wonder how people will think of me when I show them mine. I rarely see them all together in the same place and time, but last Friday a good number of my closests friends were thrown in each other's company for the love of me.

Man oh man.

I am actually friends with nerds and jocks, the poor and the rich, the simple and the sophisticated, the good, the bad, and the ugly, etc. etc. To think that the crowd was a mere slice since a lot of them didn't make it that night.

On my good days, I am your modern Renaissance Man, a legion of things rolled into a single person. At the center of everything I hold all about me in perfect tension and balance. But during my bad days everything tears me apart and I can barely stand. It is then that I wish that I am not me, that I am living a less complicated life.

I didn't realize that I have made so many good friends in the past few years. Some people have none while I have a whole army of them, and I will trust most of them with my life. Thank you Lord.

In my many friendships it is inevitable that I take a part of them unto me and maybe that's why I turned into who I am right now. Or is it the other way around -- that the reason I can be friends with all of them is because of who I am?

All I know is that I am blessed with every moment spent with them. If my life seems rich to some it is because a lot of people have added to its wealth by sharing their own lives with me. I could only hope that my friends would find my company as enriching.

I am still reeling.

This week has been crazy.

Firstly, I've been really productive at the office recently. I don't take naps anymore, I just work, work, work. I hammer at the keyboard and cook up codes in my brain from the moment I sit in front of the PC until lunchbreak or it's time to go home. Not sure if it's a good thing though. Of course I get a lot of stuff done but the whole thing's taking its toll on me. My poor brain got fried yesterday and just shut down. Thinking literally made my head ache. So I surfed the net under the pretext of gathering ideas for a patent. I saw a lot of wild ones at this site. Had me laughing my ass off.

My mind is on fire. I reluctantly left my work at the office last Wednesday because I had to meet some people. While perl codes were dancing in my head, I met up with Kat, dropped by the artistmonk's thesis exhibit, then went on to Jollibee for dinner. I got a call from another friend asking if I was free later that night and said yes before I rememebered that i was exhausted from lack of high-quality slumber. C'est la vie.

So after teasing Kat about pursuing a girl I am mildly interested in (Kat doesn't approve because of 'bad blood.' Go figure.) all throughout dinner, I trotted on home and tried to get some shuteye. But it was so hot my headache just got worse. I wasn't able to sleep because of (1) the humidity and (2) the codes are still dancing in my head. Finally the dreaded 'missed-call' from my friend signalling his arrival at my doorstep came. I hurriedly got dressed and surrendered.

So there, I was nabbed and brought to Mr. Kebab, a Persian resto along Delta. The place was packed as usual (it was 11:30PM) but we were able to get a table. I hadn't a clue as to what was happening but it was later revealed that I am being treated out because it was my birthday last week. Now that was one of the nicest things anyone has done for me.

Digression: I always enjoy eating out at the Morato/ Delta area late at night. It's cool seeing people who reek of seediness meet at the restos and cafes, fortifying themselves before returning to their respective monkey businesses, or just taking a break from all the hanky panky. It was a busy night, considering that it was a Wednesday.

We talked of of horror TV shows, people-who-suddenly-become-experts-by-virtue-of-the-person-they're-steady-with, and midgets. I laughed a lot about the midget thingy until I realized that I was being mean. Sorry.

Digression: Do people always have to be complete idiots whenever they find themselves under the delusion of being in-love? You hold a precious gem in your hands but you throw it away for nothing or, worse, something not so great. Talk about being short-changed. Teehee. But perhaps the whole thing's for the best, since that leaves the gems to be picked up and taken care of by someone smarter. Ah but what do I know? Nothing, absolutely nothing. Moving on.

After that second dinner we went around Morato in search of good coffee (chocolate for me) only to find out that all of them were either closed for the day or fully-packed. We ended up eating taho in front of Chili's I got home at 1:30AM, thinking I'd be able to sleep easily due to sheer exhaustion.

Alas, the codes were still dancing. While trying to force myself to sleep I was able to find a bug in the code I was working on back in the office (all analyses at this point were all done in my head). I dunno if I'm gonna be gald or sad because of my inability to leave my work at the officee. Finally bit the dust at 3AM.

I am so looking forward to this weekend, not only for the repose that beckons me, but also for the things that threaten me from having that much-needed rest.

Last week, I said yes to my sister when she asked me to join her and her churchmates to a dinner this Saturday. I was about to tell her last night that I was exhausted and that I probably won't make it but she said that she's skipping work that day because 'she wanted to maximize every opportunity to hang-out with her brother.' She claims to have told her boss those exact words. How am I supposed to say no to that?.

Anyway, I instead asked who else was coming and she mentioned some of my college acquaintances, plus this friend of hers who happens to have a really pretty sister (at least last time I checked). I asked if the sister would come too.

She screamed (really) with glee. It turns out she had been secretly pimping me out to her, even praying about it. She said she'll try to make her friend bring her sister to Saturday's thing. Then she left my room and went to bed, to dream of the possibilities, maybe. I don't know but I think I made her very happy, somehow. Strange.

The moral is: My sister is really looking out for my happiness, and I love her more for it.

Well, my sister's friend and the friend's sister didn't make it last Saturday. I knew in advance but I still came because the real reason I wanted to go is to hang out with my Ate.

So I didn't meet the girl. Instead I met another.

I took pictures and I am tempted to post them here. But no. I am hoarding the images, keeping them all to myself. They. Are. Mine.

I am happy. And missing her. I won't be seeing anymore of V for the days to come. Sigh. I think even critical Kat will find no fault in her. No trace of bad blood (I like bad blood though. It's more flavorful). She's pure sugar and spice. Not like the usual girls I get involved with. Not that I'm already involved. Ahh.... but who knows?

In the meantime, let's move on to the next one shall we?

***
God willing, I'll be baptized on April 24th. I want my friends to be there, if possible. I will publish the details as soon as I get them.

This thing is more that 10 years in the making. Soon I can finally declare my faith in Jesus before all men. The wait was worth it, I think. His timing, as usual, is impeccable.

These days feel like the Summer of '99.

I won't forget those weeks because of C: the endless waiting for her arrival in the afternoon; videoke gimiks; worship time at the tambayan; phonecalls from out of nowhere; bus rides; rainy afternoons spent in silent companionship; the fumblings (ack!); 'The Long and Winding Road' sung to the tune of 'Somewhere Out There.'

All ancient history.

These days, everything seems fresh and new. Mornings are brighter, the nights more cozy. Smiles are easier and nothing seems to dampen my mood.

I was a bit surprised when I found myself slightly worried about my height just this morning. Worried enough, at least, to ask a colleague if my being shorter than the girl is a big deal. But I laughed myself out of it soon enough.

It's just that I can dress up or down if I wanted to, be a preacher, poet, or geek, talk people's ears off or hang on to every word they say, treat them like they're the only other person in existence or ignore them to oblivion.

But I cannot add an inch to my height.

Ces't la vie, I suppose. Nothing left for me but to cross my fingers and hope that my charms are enough to convince her to overlook my height disadvantage.