Better Late Than... What?

Posted in mundaneity

Well this isn't exactly the new year post that I was hoping to write but as the old worn-out adage would say, better late than never.

As much as I'd want to recall everything that happened to me last year and sum up how 2010 was for me, I simply don't feel like my chemically abused brain cells are up to the task. So I'll just bullet down the most notable Stories from the Simian Crease in 2010.

I guess one of the most significant highlights of 2010 for me was the opportunity to write for a living. Though it wasn't the creative endeavor I was craving for it still more than made up for the fact that I was unemployed at the time. I sincerely appreciate the chance I was given, and if I had my way I would love to continue that sweet gig. Come on, who wouldn't want to be earning big dollars while sitting on his bum all day? Yes, dollars.

Time to put things in order.

The next memorable event of 2010 was when I signed up with one of the country's most prestigious call center companies. I know last year I had been very vocal about my aversion to coming back to the industry that I had so badly loathed, but my experience with this company now had almost completely changed my mind about that. Well, almost. While I do not resent coming back and doing what probably is the only job I'm ever gonna be good at, I am starting to feel a bit lost and uncertain of what direction my career will take in the next few months. I sure hope its up.

Sadly, last year wasn't all about the good and the happy stuff. There were also some dark and dank situations which I would gladly undo if I had a time machine. I got reacquainted with an old evil that had haunted me for years. For a good part of 2010 year I had been struggling to win this battle, and I'm ashamed to say that I have hardly made any headway. This year I honestly intend to kick this nasty oversight. Maybe I ought to start reading that Nic Sheff book that I've been holding on to.

So 2010 was far from being the all-out party that I wanted it to be, but hey, can't have it all now can we? I just wish 2011 brings in more opportunities for growth, peace and prosperity not just for me, but for all of us. And oh, we all grew older again. Why couldn't I just stay 19 forever?

New Year post - check.

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All For A Life Well Written

Posted in feebility, mundaneity, patheticism

Am I truly a writer?

For years man had always found ways to recognize and immortalize history as it unfolded. From the dawn of human kind to the modern age of computers, from the prehistoric cave drawings and ancient sea scrolls to the Internet, man has always - albeit sometimes unreliably - been capable of keeping records of his works, his discoveries, his triumphs and defeats, and even the tiniest and seemingly most insignificant details of his life.

Evolution, as it really happened.

But writing isn't just about keeping records or documenting history. While it is true that writing is an efficient way of preserving facts and the chronology of events in history, writing also happens to be one of the most enduring arts that encompasses the originality and profoundness of man's imagination. It fosters creativity and allows one to reach into the deepest recesses of his thoughts, allowing him to translate ideas and turn them into words, prose, poem or lyric, which he can then share them with an interested audience.

I looked back at some of the topics that I had written about in the Stories from the Simian Crease, and while there are a few publish-worthy material which I am proud to say are of my own imagination and creativity, I noticed that many of the posts in this humble blog centered on me and the hum drums of everyday living, being me. It made me wonder about whether I had been maintaining a blog that was actually worth publishing or is this just an online public diary that barely requires any intellect for anybody to understand. And so I pondered deeply upon that thought, and my keyboard fell silent as I stared at the steady blinking of the mouse pointer on my screen. Should I even dare continue this whimsical yet overly dramatic attempt at literary greatness, or should I just admit defeat and accept mediocrity?

Someone once told me that the greatest novel any author could ever write is the story about his life. Unfinished for most of the author's existence, his life story consists of a series of events that reaches as far back as all his childhood memories will let him, and continues up to the present. No two individuals ever waltz through the exact same sequence of events in their individual lives, and it is this individuality of experiences that assures us that our life's novel will be unique, with all the makings of an epic best-seller to boot. If it is a crime to put the seemingly mundane and worldly routines of yours truly into writing, in an effort to create my own saga - my greatest story ever told - then I say strap them old cuffs onto my wrists and lock me away for good, because I intend to continue living and writing for as long as time and inspiration allow.

I only hope that by the time the twilight of my existence looms near I shall have already written the last few chapters of my life's novel. At that time I will face those people who have helped me finish writing the story of my life, along with those whom I have helped write theirs, and ask them with all humility...

Was I truly a writer?

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Punk Eye

Posted in mundaneity, subservience

Honey you can wash my windows any day.

It is often said that a person's eyes are the windows to the soul. If that's true, then my soul needs some serious heavy duty window washing right now.

For two straight days I have been "down with the sickness" (say that with a growl). Those who I've told about my uncanny ability to get sick at some of the most opportune and convenient times will be able to appreciate the irony of my current situation: I honestly want to go to work but I can't because I happen to have conjunctivitis. Acting has never really been my strong suit but I sometimes do get away with it.

No, seriously, this one's real. I went to work the other night and they sent me home less than an hour later because apparently, I posed the risk of infecting everybody in the office with pinkeye. Now I am quarantined at a safe house, whose location is highly classified. In other words, I'm stuck at home again.

I honestly had no intentions of posting today, but since I was so abso-fucking-lutely bored I decided to go ahead and write anyway. After all, what's a blog without rants, right? So forgive me if this post seems less interesting than a Jinggoy Estrada movie. My red, swollen, pus-encrusted eyes are tired of staring at the screen all day.

Boy do I need a life.

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Harry Potter and the Magic Tofu

Posted in mundaneity

So believe me when I say that this is a compliment - Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows wasn't as big a disappointment as I thought it would be.

I got out of work this morning and was pleasantly surprised when my friend and colleague Jie told me that one of our other co-workers, Elmer, was asking if we wanted to go see the latest installment of the Harry Potter movie series. So we went, and were part of the crowd that gathered early at the cinemas waiting to see the much anticipated movie. I have to say, apart from the usual bad casting of characters and the expected departure from the storyline, this movie didn't do so bad.

Not the scene I was talking about.

There was this scene though that really bothered the behjeezus out of me. Ron had just left the group after a heated and horcrux-infused verbal tussle with Harry, and Hermione was obviously distraught. In an effort to cheer her up, Harry took her by the hand, led her up and danced with her inside their tent. I seriously don't remember reading this part of the book, where Harry danced like a faggot at a fricking gay pride parade. Once that scene hits Youtube I'll post it on my Facebook, just to make you guys laugh out loud. I've got nothing against the gay population, by the way. So please do not misquote me.

I sincerely liked that scene though, where Hermione obliviated her folks to make them forget that they even had a daughter. It was very touching.

Speaking of touching, Emma Watson looked oh so stunning. That scene where the horcrux-locket went berserk and showed Ron its corrupted version of Harry and Hermione kissing made me think about whether they did that scene entirely with computer animation or if they actually shot a scene with Emma Watson and Daniel Radcliffe and just edited it. Either way, evil Hermione was h-o-t.

And the trend of badly miscasted characters continued. If you thought Professor Slughorn didn't look the part in the last embarrassment of a movie, wait until you see the actors that played Rufus Scrimgeour and Pius Thicknesse. If you've read the book more than seven times like me you'll know what I mean.

Thankfully, Dobby's death was just as I imagined it would be. Rest in peace dear Dobby, a free house-elf. Just between you and me Jie, I did cry. Don't tell anyone.

So after the movie we ate, and this plate of tofu magically appeared at our table. As if some wizard conjured it up from nothing, which incidentally violates one of the basic wizarding laws.

Tofu, anyone? Anyone?

I can't wait to see how well they'll do the Battle of Hogwarts. Epic or bust. Here's to waiting out another few months for the completion of the Harry Potter film series. Wingardium Leviosa!

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