Don't Look To A Stranger

It's confirmed: the promise "I'll always be here for you" is a bunch of crock. It's almost as stupid as "I love you". People agree.

Have A 'Tude, Weiner Dude!

I think I've pissed God off.

I think He's going, "Since you've never been satisfied with anything, most notably that thing you said you wanted and I gave it then you changed your mind about...Well, I've decided to give you nothing. Nothing, period."

It all makes sense. No wonder life is so blah.

And all my so-called friends are in on it. Let me present, the consolidated list of different ways to blow Jon Ray off via SMS:

1. The non-reply. Simple and elegant. Keep him in the dark and confused and depressed, all at the same time.
   
2. The 3-hour wait for a reply, when obviously he has moved on to other things. Not exactly a blow-off, but I can only give the benefit of the doubt so much.
3. The multiple excuses when all I need is one. A specialty and possibly a proprietary method by *****. Really, all it does is make things seem that multiple forces have lined up against me.
4. Blow-off by omitting the words "Next time, promise."
   
5. My personal favorite, the refer-to-other-people method. "Have you tried so-and-so?" Look, there's a reason why I texted you specifically, ok?

Maybe it's the heat. But I seriously think I'm losing my mind.

Oh, ***** thinks I'm overqualified for the position they have open. I feel like Winona Ryder in Reality Bites saying "I'm really not that smart...." I've seen that movie probably thrice in the past month, making me feel like a failed-interview away from applying at a Burger King. I guess God gets to keep his sense of humor while pissed.

Put The Cobwebs Back In Place

You can tell that I've started to lose interest when I start coming in late.

And the 30-day MBA seminar is no exception. I'm starting to only come for the free food. And the free mints. But I'd rather have eye candy more than anything. And trust me this seminar has none.

Changed the link headings at the right to match the blog title; so they're lifted from the Lemonheads' It's a Shame About Ray. Wala lang. I don't even really know what the song is about. And I've added the links to DeviantArt and Flickr (following Alwyn's example) so check them out.

Slow news day.

I think I have the largest percentage of unreplied-to SMS messages. Why is that? Kids, you're not helping my self-esteem here.

...

Some people tell me I have a defeatist attitude. Maybe it's got something to do with the fact that I've been, uh, defeated?

Long Overdue Post

And any talk of depression will eventually lead to talk of you.

I miss...the effect you have on me. I can't explain it clearly. It's like, the reality of you just trumps anything that I can come up with in my head. So it's always a surprise and it's always new. Something infinitely interesting. Does that make sense? I never used to, so why should I start now? I'm thinking you'll find that funny.

No, I haven't been drinking. Wish I was, though.

I'm finding myself contemptuous of everything around me. More than usual. It's like every time I try to think positively something happens that makes it harder to do so. And they need not to be big setbacks or tragic events, not that I'm looking for those or anything...

I'm confused. And tired about being confused. Why can't I find anything to be happy about?

Ok, as an exercise, 5 things that made the day less sucky than it was:

1. The hidden gems in the 2nd disc of Pearl Jam's Lost Dogs (like "Brother")
2. Lei from ********* ***** calling.
3. KFC Original Recipe skin (kahit na drumstick lang)
4. Pretty lower batch girl walking in Greenbelt
5. Bumping into someone I know at the mall

Not much. But I'll take it, for now.

Honestly, I'm tired of ranting as much as you're probably tired of reading about it.

Skrik

The seagulls are pecking at my flesh again.

Does anyone know what the hell they argue over at Y-Speak? I'm sorry, but they argue about the dumbest things. This weekend's, uh, "topic" was Bikini Opens. Sponsored by Mossimo. I kid you not.

I know it's too much to compare the two, but over at BBC they were re-playing that documentary on beauty, though similar in topic, at least watching that you could learn something new and interesting from it. After that, a short documentary on Edvard Munch's "The Scream". I feel your pain, buddy.

I was watching that because Kimi retires 5 laps in. Checking the results now I realize I should've switched back near the end. Alonso by 0.2 seconds. Cool.

I'm thinking we should get more Bill Maher material here. The only time we get to listen to him is when he guests on the talk show circuit. Sample material from "Real Time with Bill Maher" on HBO:

New Rule: Let TV shows die a natural death. Fans of the canceled TV series, “Star Trek: Enterprise,” are trying to raise enough money on their own to pay for another season! [laughter] It’s either that or go outside. [laughter] [applause] So far, they’ve raised $3 million largely by not dating.

A friend was asking for help putting order in her life over SMS over lunch. She's got to be kidding me: I'm broke, unemployed, and for lunch I was at a children's party by myself. And I didn't even get a gift for my godchild. Don Corleone, I'm not.

Then It Hit Me

salt lake city 03
Originally uploaded by ray-gun.

I saw this on a wall in downtown Salt Lake City. Some things just speak to you I guess.

In case you can't read it, it says "Then it hit me/I'm not going to be famous/I won't get to be a rock star/I am going to be stuck on the payroll/doing work that doesn't interest me/for a very long time."

Whoever thought this up hit the nail on the head.

Is there a special reason why the high school requires you to read and analyze "Death Of A Salesman" in your graduating year, just before going to college? Maybe they want to scare you out of a lifetime of selling insurance, or whatever that is. Just a thought.

Tomorrow will be the official end of the "we'll contact you regarding your application in n weeks" period. After that, the window will be closed. Hell, I'll close it right now. There!

Strong words, of course, because there have been a few opportunities that cropped up here and there during my waiting period. Who knows? I don't want to take a job just because it's the only one out there, even if I am ridiculously out of funds for music and food and reading material...

I guess what I'm saying is, I want to be the master of my destiny, or something to that effect that doesn't sound as corny. If I take a job in a state this depressed and unexcited maybe I'm better off not taking it at all, if at least avoiding the type of fallout I experienced in my old job. Plus, I am going to 'school' so it's not as if I'm not doing anything to improve my state...

Speaking of which, the topic this afternoon was financial planning. Future and Present Values and whatnot. Why the hell was this so hard in 1997? It's the art of common sense! Remember that no one is forcing me to attend this stuff, so in effect it's like taking a Capistrano class voluntarily, because I have nothing better to do. Jesus.

Last word on working (for today):

Stumbled onto the artist known as Ogi over the net. He describes himself as a 'contemporary pop artist'. I'm thinking 'contemporary pop artist' is probably one of the few answers to the question "What do you do for a living?" that I want to give to people.

Others:

The NBA regular season is over. Was lounging around in sixth place for weeks, and finally overtaking the next player to finish fifth. Not bad, but it could've been better. I have Ray-ray, KG, Redd and Amare for crying out loud.

Can we not have the Spurs and/or the Heat in the Finals, please? They're boring. Throw out the Nuggets as well.

Don't know what to get my godchild for this weekend. It's not like I have the money. I don't even know which of the two (twins) it is! But I will be there at the party. McDonald's birthday parties are the best. Sana si Grimace yung mascot!

Anyone know where I can get heat-transfer paper?

I want a drink. Who's free tomorrow? Call me.

Waiting For The Black To Replace The Blue

A little bit of advice: if you're depressed, don't listen to Fiona Apple.

My friend told me a few days ago that maybe, at this age, we've lost the capacity for the 16-year old kind of love. Like, I've used up all my credits. And I shudder at the thought. I'm not done with that yet.

I remembered something that was somehow lost in all that talk about wants and desires, and how we're never sure of what we want. I came across a phrase over the net that, if ever there was anything that I was sure of wanting, it would be this:

I want: love at first sight, on infinite repeat.

Non-Flowering Plans

In 1956, a survey was conducted on 200 then-fresh graduates at Stanford University about their 20-year plans. These were the results: 3% had written-down plans, 11% had plans in their heads, and the remaining 86% did not have plans at all.

In 1976, the respondents were tracked down to see what happened to them. The combined successes of the 11% who had plans in their heads and the 86% who did not have plans at all did not surpass the success of the 3% who had plans down on paper.

The moral of the story? I have as much direction as 86% of Stanford University students.

I'm also very close to performing a SWOT analysis on myself. If only I wasn't so scared of what I'd find out.

Still no word from **********. I think I got screwed somewhere in the process. And not in a good way.

Our maid is going on vacation tomorrow, for like a month. Do you smell that? That's the smell of dirty laundry hitting the fan.

I need a distribution plan for apparel. Does anyone know how one goes about this? How do you get a retailer to carry your stuff? Quick, while I'm inspired to do something in my idle time.

See you in 20 years.

Existential Carousel

Is there a better-written hour on television than CSI?

Mom is in the States for three weeks. Which leaves everyone in the house directionless. Er, more than usual. My mom has a regulatory effect on this household.

Had a funny thought this afternoon. You know how retired people say who don't want to stay idle say they're consultants? Here's how a conversation with me would go:

"I'm retired, and now I'm doing some consulting work."

"Oh, really? What did you do before?"

"Consulting"

See? I said it was funny.

More conversations: The events of recent past has gotten me into thinking that everything I say I want will have a shadow of doubt clouding over it.

"I want to work at **********."

"Really?"

"Uh, yes."

"Sure?"

"I don't know."

You can substitute the first statement with almost anything. "I want to get this girl's number", "I want to go back to school", "I'm feel like getting a burger", "I want to get married", "Pass the ketchup", etc. I know that certainly life postulates uncertainty, but this is no way to live. I guess if you want to bargain with the Lord you better ask for a blank check, because He's got a sense of humor interpreting what you say you want.

Dreams Like This Must Die

Woke up this morning, and I wished I could throw myself off a cliff, preferably in Dover. Seriously. And I wanted to be alive for a few more seconds to watch the seagulls hover over me and to feel the sun on my face one last time. Seriously. I wanted little part of the life I have now.

Sounds ungrateful, I know. Far cry from the guy who wrote this. But that's the only way I can explain how I felt today.

My bad, I meant to say "Think Nazareth" in the last post instead of Foreigner, because I was thinking of "Love Hurts" as the quintessential heartbreak song. But I think that there was a reason for that slip. "I Wanna Know What Love Is" came on earlier, though it was the Tina Arena version. Do you believe in signs? The sign says, "Door Number Two".

Not only did music comply, so did the weather. I was so depressed driving to Makati earlier (thinking of the cliffs and seagulls thing) that I didn't notice that "Chloe Dancer/Crown of Thorns" had come on. And as if on cue, 30 seconds into the song it started to rain.

This is my kind of love. It's the kind that doesn't move on.

Asymptotes

Woke up this morning with a terrible hangover. But that was nothing compared to the alcohol-induced dreams I had last night. A five-part miniseries of a dream. I dreamt I was driving home drunk, and getting into all sorts of trouble. When a drunk dreams about being drunk something is definitely wrong.

Something is definitely wrong. And what makes it worse is that I think I asked for it. And I'd like to say there are no easy answers, but I'd be lying. The answers are easy; it's the consequences that are a bitch.

Cryptic, eh? Here's another mind boggler. Behind Door Number One is a life of quiet simplicity, safe and unpretentious. Plenty of opportunities for personal growth, and some such. Average emotional health for everyone concerned is better than good. Think M. Scott Peck.

Behind Door Number Two, everyone loses. Pain and suffering ensue. More alcohol will be involved. Think Foreigner.

...

Sigh.

"IN MY LIFE/THERE'S BEEN HEARTACHE AND PAIN....!"








Later...I know I'm trying to be funny and trying to make light of a situation but really I'm scared as hell. I'm finding myself in a position I've never been in before where it's not easy to do either the right thing and the wrong thing, and I'm not even sure which is which. Does that make sense? I can't explain it, but I can use a metaphor. For those versed in graphing functions, remember that funny thing called the asymptote? It's the value of x or y (graphically, a line) on the Cartesian plane that a function approaches but never actually touches. It's like that. No matter how hard I try to want it, I know it's never going to happen.

Either I've explained it beautifully, or have unwittingly revealed my true nature as a Math geek for nothing.

It's Written In The Stars That Fill/The Emptiest Of Nights

On my way home I realized how much the songs on Mojofly's first album have grown on me. I didn't even notice the traffic, seriously.

Didn't I use to curse accounting to the high heavens? Then what I am doing taking all this up again, and by choice at that? Hmmm. Then again, I did swear I would never call a computer, 'friend', and that I would never apply at a call center company. I wonder how many more pillars of convictions will come crashing down this year.

The teach's favorite expression is "What the hell", but said with a period ("."), not with the typical question mark-exclamation point-question mark ("?!?") combo. It's funny the way old people talk.

It's also funny that while he's talking about debits and credits and assets and liabilities, all I could think of was how to create a database model diagram to capture the accounting process, and then how the input and output screens would look in HTML, as well as the different views for the balance sheet and income statement and statement of earnings. Okay, it was more sad and pathetic than funny.

I just realize that the last post/joke set blogging back by around 30 years...

What's The Difference Between Counting And Accounting?

How did I get here?

I'm attending a 30-day MBA course at the Mandarin and re-learning accounting, among others. And it's free, for the most part. The only things I have to spend for are transportation and the dinner I'll have to have in Makati because I don't want to go home during rush hour.

And while it doesn't interest me at all in terms of a career path, I realize this is where my M.E. training lies, and I used to be good at this. So I can do it, no problem. GAAP isn't rocket science.

So again, my career compass has gone haywire...I need to find true north.

No other news on other fronts.

(Counting is "one-two-three". Accounting is "a-one, a-two, a-three...". Someone please give me something to do.)

Funnelled

What do you want to be when you grow up?

I never wanted to be a doctor. I didn't want to be a lawyer (though I remember someone suggesting it early on). Didn't want to be a banker, a politician, a pilot, a call-center agent...

I used to say "engineer" without really knowing what that meant. All I know is that I could build stuff, mostly out of Lego. Or modeling clay. And I was good at Math.

Someone used to suggest architect but I thought they were mistaking me for my dad.

I also used to say "scientist", but I was never specific about what kind. Maybe "archaelogist" but that was the Indiana Jones in me talking. And I think at some point I meant "inventor", specifically "time traveller". Thanks a lot Dr. Brown.

I know at some point I wanted to write. But then so did everybody. And most of them could do it better. All I could put down on paper was something that resembled a very bad Zafra imitation.

I know I wanted to be an artist. Except those dreams got shot down very early on because I was never going to make money off of it. It was "that thing you do on the side, honey". On the side of what, mom?

I was too short and could not dribble or pass to save my life to play professional basketball.

I know I wanted to play guitar in front of thousands of people, but I was too nice to become a rock star.

How I came to be a computer programmer, I don't really know anymore. Did I mention I almost flunked EG 109?

How about manager? Of what? And I guess I always believed the best managers were only that because they were lucky.

I guess I've never been funnelled into anything.

The problem is, like I've said some time ago, I tend to do the exact opposite of what people expect me to do. And people expect me to succeed.

Canon In D Major

I've been to too many weddings.

You can't imagine how long I've been sitting here trying to follow up that last sentence with a supporting statement. It just...is. Too many weddings, too many coat-and-tie affairs, too many AV presentations, too much Pachelbel, too many momentous life moments for someone else.

A phrase comes into mind: "All happinesses are sterile". I lifted that off Dougas Coupland's novel Generation X (one of my top three, for sure). It may have nothing to do with weddings and such, but I couldn't shake it last night until this morning.

But I get this feeling--

It is a feeling that our emotions, while wonderful, are transpiring in a vacuum, and I think it boils down to the fact that we're middle class.

You see, when you're middle class, you have to live with the fact that history will ignore you. You have to live with the fact that history can never champion your causes and that history will never feel sorry for you. It is the price that is paid for day-to-day comfort and silence. And because of this price, all happinesses are sterile; all sadness goes unpitied.

And any small moments of intense, flaring beauty such as this morning's will be utterly forgotten, dissolved by time like a super-8 film left out in the rain, without sound, and quickly replaced by thousands of silently growing trees.

-Douglas Coupland, "Generation X"

Entia Non Sunt Multiplicanda Praeter Necessitatem

Turns out I don't have much to talk about. I still don't have that job ("We'll have a decision in one to two weeks") and I'm still stuck in the Friends Zone from which there is no escape.

Financial resources are near zero. All yuppie purchases are on hold. Impulse-Frapuccinos will be replaced with impulse-small-Frosty's.

Art classes have started again, and I'm surrounded by dozens of little kids, who will turn out to have more raw talent than I do.

Tomorrow's is Ian and Elaine's wedding. Another reminder of how fast time is passing us by. Like I needed one more.

Things are not looking up.

The first episode for CSI:NY was disappointing. Even more so since disappointment was actually expected. Someone please stick the original CSI series on a time slot that I can see on a regular basis.

Actually, I know it's weird, but I dread both getting the job and not. The simplest explanation is that I don't really want the job, just a job. And the simplest explanation tends to be the correct one. Damn. Wanted: the perfect job, preferably before ********** renders its decision, not after. I know Your penchant for irony.

Something tells me I will be looking at JobsDB again very, very soon.

Blogger's been acting up for the past few days, so haven't been able to post. And I've got a lot more to get through before the week is over. Chief among them: the wedding, the girl, the job.

Absolutely Flat Out

Spoke too soon, Kimi made it to the podium for the first time this year, and for the first time in a long time, and only because the Williams in front of him blew an engine. And both Toyotas in the top 4? Wrong year to decide to stop being a Jarno Trulli fan. And thanks to the people who dusted the cobwebs off Pedro dela Rosa.

But we got ourselves a season.

These Wounds Won't Seem To Heal

(Alternate title: Pre-Marital Love)

I guess I should post about the bachelor bash.

But I won't.

Not because it was a total dud, on the contrary, Ian is probably right in saying we've set the bar for stag parties to come. But I guess what happens in Escarpment stays in Escarpment. Har har.

Some lessons learned, though. This is still Jon Ray's blog after all.

1. Avoid running out of beer.
2. Avoid running out of food.
3. Multiple points of failure: make sure people in charge of girls are not the same people in charge of food and drinks.
4. Don't do everything on the last minute, especially if you're on a budget.
5. Bring Sony-Ericsson charger. What a crisis.
6. Apparently, Celine Dion songs are a requirement. I really don't know why.
7. Apparently, the fee does not include the tip for the pimp.
   

And no, I have no 'material' for these affairs. I'm freaking harmless.

Set It Up, Let 'Em Fall

Last night's April Foo's setup was surprisingly not bad. And of course, "not bad" is as good as it gets nowadays. In my opinion though, the kid kept running out of material. Invest in your mind. But not bad for the rookie.

The stag party is set for tonight, and I think we might actually pull this off. "Not bad".