Facebooking

I'm on Facebook now. I found out there's a blog there--"Notes" to be more accurate. I might or might not permanently move there.

Tell me your secrets

Every time I surf the net, I almost always visit PostSecret. The postcard above caught my attention a while ago. But it's not the card that sounds so true for me. It's this e-mailed response:

I wish I could believe in God because I feel like I am missing out on a lot of potential happiness or comfort. Unfortunately, as good as it may make me feel in some ways, the part of me that I respect most is the part of me that won't allow me to believe.

Good-bye, Francis

You made me laugh,
you made me cry,
you made me believe.

You made me want to write.

Now you're with Eugene and Oliver
who when you were five
you had to fed with water and sugar
as they wailed and wailed
with hunger
in their prams.

You played the role of the father
that they had yet didn't have
but a brother's tiny hands
could only steal bananas.

Now you're in a Limerick
without the damp
without a River Shannon
that takes little twin boys away.

Thank you, Frank
and farewell.

The ship is sinking

It's Monday, and we have no work! Yahoo! It rained and a pipe in our building leaked. We had mini waterfalls around us. Several computers got wet and grounded. The clinic transformed itself into a a bathroom cubicle with a full-blast shower. So some 150 of us employees were ordered to go to the lobby.

The place was noisy and jam-packed. The floor was wet. Water dripped heavily from the stairs. Poseidon and Titanic come to mind. Incidentally, the design of our building is similar to that of a ship--leaning, whitewashed walls; curved ceiling; lightweight materials.

We hushed each other when a manager stood up in a railing to give an announcement. I thought he would say, "The ship is sinking, group yourselves into . . ." Instead, he told us to go home.

I'm happy I can start reading Junot Diaz's The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao. But I'm also worried for the company. It's a significant loss on income and productivity. But well, I could use a rest day.

Dragging

I watched Harry Potter 6 yesterday. There isn't much to talk about it. I've said it all in the title of this post.

I don't know why I never enjoyed the movies as much as I enjoyed the books. Heck, I didn't just enjoy the books. I was bowled over by them, as though J. K. Rowling cast a wand at me and shouted, "Stupefy!"

The first movie was actually the reason why I was among the last of the muggles to be bewitched by the Potter series. Without being able to read the book, I watched the first movie in the cinema--and didn't like it. For years, I never felt the urge to read the book. I didnt watch the succeeding movies too. Even when they were shown on HBO, I was never able to sit all throughout any of them.

Then one ordinary afternoon in college, about seven years later, I rediscovered the chosen one, in the printed pages. Weird, I can no longer remember who owns that book and how I came across it.

After reading the first book, I couldn't get enough of Harry Potter. So I had a reading marathon, straight to the seventh book. And the nice thing about it was, all the books were just borrowed from friends and friends of friends.

Brainless

The intellectual's Slumdog Millionaire

Morbid week

Book I've read: The Murderer Next Door. It says everyone of us is capable of killing. We evolved that way. Humans kill in order to survive. Everyone of us have homicidal thoughts; some are just pushed to the edge that's why they acted on their instinct. But the most interesting information the psychologist author says is that most murderers are actually ordinary people, not psychopaths you see in slasher movies. You are safer with Hannibal than with the person beside you right now.

You might misinterpret me. I might not able to capture in the words above the essence of the book. But I tell you, it's good. The writing isn't brilliant or gripping, but reading the grim facts of life in plain and simple--albeit bland--English is worth your while. The case the author makes is so simple it makes sense. Some people though would disagree with him--especially those who believe that man is created in the image and likeness of some supreme being.

Book I'm editing: Technician's Guide to Posmortem Examination. Do I have to explain why?

Book I'm about to read: The Mammoth Book of Crime Scene Investigation. It features over thirty real-life crime scene investigations solved by forensics.

Got to go and start eating this book. It's weekend! Got no work! I can read what I want, not what I'm assigned to read. Yahoo! I've never appreciated weekends this much.

Daylight

I've got a word accepted in the open dictionary of Merriam-Webster Online.

















Ssssshhhhh. This means I'm using the (limited) internet access of my PC at the office for a non-work-related activity.