Fuck. Tomorrow it will be March. I vow to be employed by the end of March. By hook or by Accenture.

Let's see if this one sticks.

A Different Kind of Cover Letter

I admit it, I've been walking around like a zombie the past few days, and it kind of explains the lack of blogging. It seems that I need to pull focus to do even the simplest things. That may sound funny but I assure you it's not.

I was out Thursday through Saturday and by all accounts I should be happy.

Thursday I was out with friends having dinner and coffee, and I was the only guy at the table.
Friday I was seated at a table that had celebrities on it and people who should be celebrities.
Saturday Team Rillo won its 5th game of the season by double digits, and I was reasonably sloshed during the celebration after.

And yet here I am still staring at the monitor, wondering why I have it so bad, and why things are not looking up.

I was thinking that this should be on my cover letter:

I like theory. I love theory. I can go on and on about the definition of polymorphism but for the life of me cannot give a practical use for it. I prefer theory to application; in fact, I only like application insofar as it illuminates theory.

I can't sell. Anything. I believe anything that you don't already have you don't need. But that only applies to you. Because it doesn't explain why I can't stop buying stuff.

I can't handle money. I can't make it fast enough and I can't get rid of it fast enough. Good thing my mother works in a bank.

I like the pretty things. I know everybody does. But I'm a ridiculous fan of the pretty things. Oh, you don't know how ridiculous I can get. I am likely to start a revolution if management tries to standardize my PC's wallpaper.

I don't like doing what's expected of me. I will more likely run in the opposite direction.

I like thinking. Usually more than necessary.

And talking, believe it or not. But only if I can get my point across. And my best points of conversation are usually meaningless.

Of course, talking like this isn't going to land me any jobs. This is just my little piece of cyber-real estate where I can be honest.

Career Aptitude Normalization Test, or CANT

Noteworthy (for me, at least) from The Simpsons last night:

Principal Skinner: Lisa, what are you rebelling against?
Lisa Simpson: Whadda you got?

Hayyyy. Sounds familiar.

I wrecked not one, but two watercolor paintings today. All that paper and paint to waste, just because I wasn't in the right state of mind. One was a picture of Schumacher's 1995 Benetton-Renault, and the other was my take on the album cover for U2's The Joshua Tree. I think I'm going to cry.

This means I am not going to start on portraits while I'm in this funk.

Nothing else is noteworthy, except that I get to go out tonight. I need a drink.

Something Better Than In The Middle

Boy am I depressed. Really.

There are a multitude of reasons for this, some you already know (from yesterday's post) and some I'm keeping in the dark, for now. Suffice to say today was fraught with insecurities.

I don't want to be depressed. Some days I say I'm depressed but that's me just acting like the tragic character in a movie, and those days it doesn't take much to make me spring back to life. But today...

I was thinking earlier that there are many similarities with the job hunt and the girl hunt. For example:

There are a lot of jobs out there I know I can do but I don't want to do them.

Replace the word 'jobs' with 'girls' and it's practically the same. How about:

I know it's a lot harder to get into that but I know I'll be happier there.

See?

In fact, I can best describe what I'm feeling now is: Heartbreak. Hello dear acquaintance, welcome back.

Bliss thinks I have self-esteem issues....OH, YOU THINK?!?

The Active File

List of responses of the people receiving my resume:

DISCS, Ateneo de Manila University: "Ah...ok" (Looks at resume flipping pages.) "Hmm. Ok."

Phoenix-One, Ortigas: "Fill this up..." And then I spend an hour repeating everything that's already on my resume on another form. That really turns me off.

Informatics College, Ortigas: "Ah. Ok. Dito na lang. Walang picture?" Then probably proceeds to use it as scratch. Or tissue.

No one said it would be easy.

I just don't want to make the same mistake I did 4 years ago and get into something I'm not sure about, or just because people expect me to get back to working right now. Of course, looking for work postulates I have to know what I want to do, and I don't, really. I sort of hoped I'd know it when I see it. I should be happy that I have the chance to wait, look, search, try out. But right now...I'm crippled by the multiplicity of options.

God, I'm so confused.

As you can tell, I passed by school to hand out resumes to the CS department. That's the shortcut way to get depressed: drop by your alma mater. I swear, if someone doesn't invent time travel soon, I am going to kill myself.

Dream, Believe, Survive,...DUMBSTRUCK!

In a decision that surprised no one, Ryza is your Ultimate Starstruck Survivor. Not much of a choice there, really; in fact I'm surpised they didn't just resurrect Krizzy from Avenger limbo. As far as I'm concerned, Krizzy is this year's Katrina Halili.

Is handing out exclusive GMA contracts to all the Starstruck Avengers still considered a surprise? If they keep this up Channel 7 is going to end up with 5-hour SOP Gigster episodes.

And while lip-synching ain't no art, I'd like to think it still requires some effort. Some of these kids don't even bother.

And in news that will not damage my reputation:

Tomorrow I'm going to swallow my pride and start handing out resumes to IT education companies around the city. What I will do for a Wacom tablet and a new jacket.

I have this lingering fear that I'm just as bad with watercolor as I am with oil pastels. If years of working corporate has malnourished what talent I had to begin with I will never forgive myself.

(Somehow the last two paragraphs are related, though non-segued.)

Since Fernando Sena keeps asking us to copy from his collection of bottles and flowers and color-xeroxed pictures, I guess its up to me to paint subjects that will keep me interested while painting. As such (how Atenean!), I have begun to paint Nicole Hernandez, F1 cars and Scarlett Johansson.

With all of Sena's jokes in class, I think he should have a sidekick, or band leader. Max Weinberg to his very corny Conan.

No More Talk Of Darkness/Forget These Wide-Eyed Fears

Still reeling from the JW Pure Malt-San Mig Light mix. How does anyone expect me to "keep on walking" after that?!?

Someone tried the slow clap buildup (a la Not Another Teen Movie) at the end of Phantom Of The Opera last Saturday/Sunday morning. And no one was in the mood to follow; not that the movie was bad, in fact it was really good. But does it deserve the buildup clap? That's reserved for something special, like Episode III. Hahahaha.

Notice how they kept inserting the name "Christine" in the songs in Phantom? It mercifully makes it impossible for you to project your own life/personalities in the story. Unless you're in a love triangle with someone named Christine. Then you'll probably bawl your head off.

I know I'm a year late, but my infatuation with Zooey Deschanel has been taken over by a larger, full-blown Scarlett Johansson crush.

Plan B

I'm no longer going to La Union this weekend. I guess there's a better chance of me having a little bit of peace of mind here with my art than there. And who knows? An adventure (or two) in the city is waiting.

I will miss my chance to surf something else other than blogs for the first time. I have no money to learn surfing in LU either, so that's another point against taking the trip.

Last night it struck me again: Plan B. That longing to be somewhere else than where you are. I'm not talking about watching Constantine, hahaha. Nor am I talking about eating at Oody's Galleria. It was while drinking at Metrowalk. I wanted to be somewhere else. Anywhere but there. Ever feel like that? I guess it's pretty common.

Maybe listening to a little Van Halen will help, Standing On Top Of The World or something. What it would be to feel like a Van Halen song. But without feeling smug about it.

I'm reminded of something George and Kramer talks about on Seinfeld (already at disc 12 of 12, finally!):

"Do you yearn?"
"Not for a while. I crave, but I haven't yearned"
"I yearn."

I guess that's the word I was looking for when I describe wanting to be someplace else. I yearn. In this world of instant gratification at the click of a button or uh, autoload, I think it's easier to just crave because it's so easily fixed. But yearn? No one's ever solved that yet.

Proof that God exists: the new UNO issue. It was my Valentine's date last night. We gazed longingly into each other's eyes by candlelight.

By The Time I Recognize This Moment/This Moment Will Be Gone

I'm going to do the unsurprising and do a Valentine's Day post. I decided a few years ago that it's turned uncool to slam Valentine's Day coz everybody else was doing it: too much commercialization, why do we need a day for love blah blah BLAH. Also, people see the "You've never had a valentine in your life" angle.

I do have one Valentine's Day story, but I'm not that good a storyteller so I know I'll just screw it up. Years ago I probably would've gotten in a lot of trouble for saying this story but now no one really minds anymore so I guess it's okay. Plus, it's my blog and I can do whatever I want.

Like I said, I'm not that good a storyteller and I know it will sound a lot cheesier than I intend it to be because I have a tendency of romanticizing the whole thing...so many excuses! Since when did Dave Eggers write this blog?

Instead, I'll shortcut to the elements involved in the story: one totally infatuated 16-year old boy, one girl who thought she'd never make it past freshman year, 60 minutes, 6 roses (5 red, 1 white), 3 floors, 2 decoys, and one kiss.

Unfortunately I may be the only one who remembers it like that.

For the most part I'm all in favor of growing up. We're smarter, faster, more sure of ourselves. And in ten years plenty of really good things and really bad things happened, made more friends, made plenty of money and went to a lot of places...But there are times when I can't help thinking that in 1995, we got everything right.

Chemistry II

All this talk reminds me of the movie The Concierge. Fox has insanely impeccable comic timing and Gabrielle Anwar is insanely beautiful but I remember Anwar saying in an interview to promote the film that the two actors have no chemistry onscreen. The result: insanely bad box-office bomb, whose only memorable line (at least for me, and has nothing to do with chemistry,) is Michael J. Fox saying to a waiter/bellboy/concierge/taxi driver (I forget exactly who): "You want a tip? Don't want what you can't have."

Enough of that.

Still no hits on the job thing. I really don't want to go back to working half-hearted on anything, but my cash reserves are getting really low. It's funny. I resigned because I hated compromise, but that's what I'll end up doing anyway. Okay, rereading that I guess its not so funny. More like, sad and pathetic.

I did a dumb thing and dropped by the office last Friday. It was nice seeing old friends but I really should stop hanging out there because all this ambivalence just comes flooding back.

Chemistry

I'm here to talk about the big C. Not Commitment, because that's been discussed to death in coffeehouses all over the world. And besides, that's just one decision and a multitude of little decisions after. I was just wondering about that other, much more interesting (to me at least, for now) C, Chemistry.

How effortless must things be to be considered chemistry? I mean, some effort has to be in it, right? Because it takes two, right? I think we agree that just sitting there will get you nowhere. Coz if we're talking about zero effort we might as well quit right now.

Okay, if we consider as chemistry to require minimal effort, where does that leave us? Under that definition I've had chemistry probably twice in my lifetime. And you know what's worse, the count would be much higher if I'd include people I'm not really attracted to at all. That fact annoys me a lot.

Just thinking out loud. I wish I were a little more eloquent, but everything sounds a lot better in my head than it does on, er, paper.

On to other things, slightly related:

What the hell were you doing in my dream? And what girl wears a yellow tie, huh? And how'd you know where I live, and why are we at the old house?

And talking about someone else:

You are in a position to hurt me, really, really bad.

I'm getting green oil pastel over everything.

I've got a few work leads:

Some headhunter called me up on my cell asking for a resume for a "multinational company". I'm still making up my mind if I should email it to her.

Someone pointed out that there are a number of IT learning services in the country that accept part-timers. Does anyone know anyone who works at something called New Horizons Inc.?

Andrei has a small HTML project in the works.

I still don't know Struts, though. Or C#. Last week I found myself staring at the PC trying to make sense of MVC 2 and my head hurt. Maybe development is (no longer) for me.

I'm thinking more and more of becoming an educator instead, IT or not. I don't know...do you see me as one?

By Tuesday I Am Fading

Two days of no posts is something of a rarity for a strapping unemployed man like myself. I guess I haven't been posting because I have very little to rant about. Hahaha, no, hell hasn't just frozen over. I guess I'm just happy. Weird.

See, all it takes is a terrific weekend. A couple of movies, a cup of CBTL coffee, a half-full tank of gas, and good conversation. You and me and five hundred bucks. Ok, I spent a lot more than that. Money can't buy you love, but it can sure show you a great time. And can I just say, that may be one of the few times that I've been to Greenbelt and not ogled at anything else.

I do have one little rant: Elektra. I'm not a huge fan of the comic book, nor of Jennifer Garner, nor of Alias, nor of Daredevil, movie or book. But since the options were that or Shall We Dance?, I guess we got off easy. To exemplify the duh-ness of the movie: the villain named Stone (the impenetrable black guy) couldn't be hurt with Elektra's sai's, but turned to green smoke when a tree fell on him. I know there's a world of difference between an ancient Japanese weapon and a friggin' oak tree but you've got to explain what the difference is or else you lose the audience. And the only explanation I could come up with was this: "stone beats scissors, paper beats stone". Arrrgggh.

The only thing thing that could've made the weekend better was a win against rivals 4B '95 in Game 4 of the ABL schedule. I guess you can't win 'em all. But it doesn't matter whether you win or lose, because you'll end up drinking in either case.

The best explanation I've heard for closure from Spike: It's a misnomer. That bit of drama at the end of a relationships signals the start of the act of closing, not the end. After that, whether there is actual "closure" or not is a matter of time, luck and your personal predisposition for fairy tales.

Oh, and the 'date'.

Still in quotes because I'm too chicken to admit that anything is, in fact, a 'date'. But here's my two cents:

I like a girl who can wax poetic about Star Wars/Trek (preferably Wars), the Marvel pantheon of heroes and recognizes the illusion we call "J.Lo's successful movie career".

Owen Wilson doesn't even have to speak to be funny.

Next time, when the waitress askes if you want decaf or not, don't say you'll have it regular just for the heck of it.

...Because you'll end up still awake at 3 AM and at Decades after. And I just realized I find it adorable the way girls teach each other the "creep walk".

Does closure really exist, or is it just the name we give to that unnecessary bit of drama at the end of every faux-relationship?

Your Choice, Your Music, You're Fired!

You know you've achieved a new level of pathetic-ness when you realize that when VJ Karel waves goodbye on OPM MYX, you wave back.

And will someone please get rid of VJ Geoff. Does VJ Michi know about this?

You know who else needs to get fired? Whoever script-writes my family's dinner conversations. It's one thing to watch mindless prattling like that on TV, it's another to have them in the dinner table, in full surround sound.

Add that to the fact that I don't even enjoy UCC Vienna Cafe, which is where we had dinner. Excuse me if I sound like a brat, but I really don't see the appeal. The desserts, sure. But dinner?

Oh, and an idea whose time has come.

I have way too much time on my hands. But don't worry, I've got some stuff in the works. And whatever it is I've got brewing it's got to be better than UCC's Nel drip coffee.

Montmartre

paris 05
Originally uploaded by ray-gun.

Just finished reading a Taschen book on the art and life story of Henri de Toulouse-Latrec. The name didn't mean anything to me until I visited Montmartre in France and I saw that copies of his turn-of-the-century lithographs were littered all over Paris. He's most known for making posters for brothels and nightclubs such as the Moulin Rouge. I bought a copy of one of these and of course promptly gave it to Cybil, which is the last thing I ever gave her.

Now that's not what's important. Just wanted to share how the book ends; with a quote from the artist:

...but nothing is ever beautiful merely because it is novel. In our time there are many artists who go for novelty, and see their value and justification in novelty; but they are wrong - novelty is hardly ever important. What matters is always just the one thing: to penetrate to the very heart of a thing, and create it better.

For all the artists out there, I guess.

Bored Games

Three things I hate about going to parties where I don't know anyone (usually because its thrown by a relative who I don't see much and because no one at the party is under 30):

1. I'm bored.
2. I have to pretend that I'm not bored.
3. People at the said party get to deduce (correctly) that I'm an anti-social elitist jerk, the kind that gets bored at parties.