Dialectics of a Daysleeper

Pagwawari-wari sa panaginip...

2016-03-29T18:30:00.000+08:00

Napanaginipan kita. Nasa lumang gusali daw ako. Parang lumang kapitolyo nang kung anong probinsya. Hindi ko maalala kung saan ito, pero nandito ako. May banko sa isang tabi ng malapad na daanang nagtutuglong sa hagdanang paakyat at pababa...

Bahagyang pumapasok ang liwanag sa isang malapit na bintana. Maulap ang langit, pero maliwanag ang hapon. Nandun ako, nakaupo sa banko, naghihintay ng kung ano. Pagod. Di ko alam kung bakit...

Nakita kita. Pababa ka. Nagsalubong ang tingin natin. Napatigil ka. Ngumiti ka nang makilala mo ako. Nagkataon na parehong maganda bihis natin. May pormal na okasyon?

Naupo ka sa tabi ko. Matagal na tayong di nagkikita. Akalain mong dito pa tayo magkakasalubong? Nagkwento ka. Mahaba ang kwento. Maraming kwento. Ano na nga ba ang mga nangyari simula nang huli tayong nagkita? Naramdaman ko ang inip. Pero masaya ako nagkita tayo kahit papaano. Naisip ko, magkikita pa kaya tayo ulit?

Napatingin ako sa liwanag na banayad na pumapasok sa malapit na bintana...

Iminulat ko ang mga mata ko. Bumalik na ako sa realidad ko.

Kung minsan naiisip ko, ano kaya kung totoong hindi lang iisa ang realidad. Na ang realidad na alam natin ay isa lamang sa napakaraming hibla ng realidad ng isang napakalaking telang tinatawag nating sansinukob. Na ang panaginip ay ang eksatong sandali nagkikita ang dalawa sa maraming hiblang yaon at nasisilip natin ito. Ano kaya?

Helter Swelter

2015-04-04T19:30:00.000+08:00

The sweltering heat of the afternoon inspired nothing but boredom from me. It was a summer afternoon not unlike many that have gone past. It was hot. It was humid. Heat was radiating from everything that the sun caressed in the last 8 hours.

I settled on reading books I had long abandoned. Like a ritual, I took each one and wiped the dust off the covers. I flipped to marked pages. I tried to recall where I left off. I realized I had left my books too long that I could no longer recall. I had bits and pieces of the stories in them, nothing more. I settled on one of them, Connecting Flights. I resolved to read it cover-to-cover. As I went along, I discovered missing pieces of what I could not remember fully. I discover new stories I had originally skipped. I consumed it within an hour.

I picked up another. Pete Lacaba's Edad Medya. I read a couple of poems. The mood was too somber, I could not go on. I might've triggered depression if I did. Most of my old friends would tell you that I suffer from these episodic bouts of depression, which confused many of them, so much so that I've only managed to keep a handful of them. I picked up The Kite of Stars. Memories began to flood my mind. I knew this book well. It imprinted on me so much that the mere suggestion of it's blue cover with gold lettering triggered memories of the stories the lay within it. I will read it again, when I lacked inspiration. There is no better epitome of so great a love than the kite of stars.

I picked up Dream Noises : A Generation Writes next. I read the first three stories and felt a sadness settle in me. I stopped reading and decided I really had to do something else. I have a writer's heart. My skills are not at par with many of the published kind. But I have the heart of one. I read and I understand. No, I feel the stories. They stir in me the emotions these authors felt when they created these works.

I guess this was one of the reasons I stopped blogging, or even writing in general. I did my best work in the most emotionally destitute times of my life. I wasn't the kind that could write the cheery side of everything. I was the kind that fed off my darker side. The sadder I was, the better the prose. I subconsciously begged myself to stop. And stop I did. But you cannot really deny what you are. I need to write again. If only for myself. If only for me to release my demons.

As I started typing this, it started to rain. A light drizzle that belied the true strength of an approaching typhoon. I guess we all need some rain in our life. Otherwise we would not wish for more sunshine, however hot it was..

Dream Upon Dream...

2015-04-04T08:58:00.000+08:00

A few weeks back, I had another one of these recurring dreams of mine. I am only reminded of this because of a recent event. Sometimes, the memory is jarred by another dream. Otherwise, it is a circumstance of real life that triggers the memory.

These dreams, they feel like me living someone else's life for a few moments. Weirdly enough, just as strange as it was for John Cusack in Being John Malkovich.

They run along the same themes -- being in a vehicular accident, followed by scenes of some home i don't really know but feel I belong to for some reason. In the past it was a owner-type jeep that turned turtle after I had driven it backwards so fast in a panic over a bridge, as flood waters overcame what was the road I passed. The other time it was a motorcycle that I drove until I realized I was floating slowly up, leaving the motorcycle to careen of into the dirt roadside, me flying over a line of low trees over a sparse forest with nothing but the sound wind whistling in my ear to keep me company.

Dream upon dream, the car scenes were always followed by another, of homes and of places that felt like home. Places I felt I missed, but never really knew. There was this one that stuck to me. As I entered the long roofed garage-way just barely lit to fight off the darkness of dusk, I saw my father who passed many years ago. He was muttering something, trying to find something rummaging through stuffed boxes piled on the floor, absentmindedly nodding my way as though to welcome me home. I was thinking (in my dream of course), if dad was here where could Oliver and Jan be? They must be around here somewhere, playing. This is course being a dream, I was oblivious to how ridiculous it would have been for grown men to be playing. But then again, my brothers had just barely turned into men when they were taken by death. I wander on towards the house and go upstairs. I find a window, open it and start to climb out. There's another window adjacent to it and I try to cross to it. But the gap is just enough to make it impractical to reach or leap to. So I set my foot down on the piece of roofing that bridges the gap between both. I think to myself, in the growing darkness of night, this house feels so much like the house in Concepcion where I spent summers with my brothers. It was a house where we never felt we were strangers even though we were. We were family, but at the same time we were unfamiliar.

This one a few days back was the strangest in recent memory. You know how they say that you only remember the last parts of your dream? It's probably true. It's probably the parts of your dream that come nearest the near-wake state of your brain. This one was quite long for that period of almost-awakedness. It started off with a dirt-bike. I was driving it, and I was driving it fast through dark empty city streets lined with walled homes. Not very unlike that blind corner on Quezon Street nearest Sto. Entierro, only this long street is that blind corner over and over again. I could hear the roar of the engine as I negotiated the turns one after the other. The turns seemed to come more often as I begin to go faster and faster. I fight off the urge to slow, my mind telling me to slow down as I barely miss the walls lining the curbs. I struggle harder and harder to keep myself lined up with the street and avoid the walls. And then it ends, a moment before I hit a wall.

What follows is the requisite almost-my-home scene. I'm in what seems to be a wide-roofed patio straight out of an expensive movie. White sheer curtains line the parts of it exposed to the lush-green garden outside. Dark brown colored furniture, almost all hardwood, lined the place. I then see her. Her face is unfamiliar to me, but yet I feel I know her. She was appropriately dressed for the hot weather. She wore open a white long-sleeved button-down shirt over a white tank top with matching white shorts. I was thinking (in my dream, of course), why not khaki? Her features were clearly Asian. She almost looked like Julia Clarete, only much thinner and with more Oriental features. Her skin was wonderfully brown. Dark some people would say, but just right in my opinion. I start to cry as she approaches and she reaches out to hold my arm to console me. I break down. She nods in silence, as if to say I am forgiven. Then I wake up sobbing in my bunk bed, confused tears running down my cheeks. A moment later, I realize I had not slept in a bunk bed since my brothers died 18 years ago. I wake up again, this time for real, with the blazing afternoon sun shining on my face through the window that lay across the bed I slept in. As I came to my senses, I struggled to remember the dream. I'm not sure why, but I felt a strong urge that I should remember her. That I should remember the girl that forgave me...

My Worn Books and Reflections on Reflecting...

2013-04-14T22:20:00.000+08:00

Recently an office-mate was rushed to the hospital. I showed up the next day in his hospital room, bringing with me the health insurance forms from the office, 3 books and a wall charger. He was quite amused with what I did. The books were, as I told him, to get his mind off his illness. The other two items were much more pragmatic, since the forms were a standard requirement for hospitals and the wall wart was for his (and the spouse') phones.

Anyway, the books I brought for him were Edad medya: mga tula sa katanghaliang gulang by Pete Lacaba, The Kite of stars and other stories by Dean Francis Alfar and Connecting Flights by Ruel S. De Vera. All three of these are what I would term are 'reflective' books. The stories can relate to anyone Filipino. Most of us will be able to see something of ourselves in them. Most the stories in these three books either fill us with remorse to rue for our past mistakes, make us want to fall in love again or fill us with empathy for things that happen to complete strangers that we share something in common with.

Sadly, days after, the books were returned to me unread. Well, I try. That's the important bit. Right now, though, I am revisiting Connecting Flights. What's the point of books that have pristine spines, flawless covers and smooth pages if they've never been read? So I always say, read a book. Lend it to someone. Share the joy of reading. Human experience isn't just about what you yourself have had the opportunity to have. It's also about pondering on what other people have experienced or thought of or have made theories about. So for now you could say I am 're-connecting' with Connecting Flights as my main medium.The venue isn't as important as the thoughts that go through my mind as I experience the mental missives of Filipinos missing home as they write from other places.

Crossing from Shadow to Shadow

2012-04-24T19:39:00.000+08:00

It was hot. Like in previous years, it was growing increasingly hotter than the year that came before it. I woke up after dozing off on the sofa for about an hour and a half. I could not bring myself back to sleep. I woke up with lingering thoughts of what work I promised myself I'd do from home during the weekend. Maybe I dreamed of work, I'm not sure. But lingering thoughts they were. And they were nagging on me for a few more moments before I picked up my phone to send a text message to a friend, asking if I already missed a schedule at work.

It was one of those days again when insomnia hit me in the worst possible moment. Coming home from a long night at the office that was preceded by a sleepless day off, I was hungry for sleep. But it didn't come. The kids were asleep. They were having their afternoon nap. It was unusual, but all of them were napping. Most of the time, 1 would resist the urge to nap just to persist bothering me or the sibs. It was one of those 'pesky kids' kind of behavior that survived the millions of years of evolution and gene hand-me-downs that weeded out every bit of obnoxiousness save for the delight one got out of pestering someone else. Every kid goes through that stage at least once in their life.

I stood up to get a glass of water. A glass of cold water was such sweet relief in this weather that I was already anticipating feeling the coldness of it gushing down my gullet 10 seconds before I even drew the water out of the pitcher. It was then that I glanced at the immediate world outside my abode. There on the street was a kid riding his bike. Back and forth he went. I couldn't understand how someone, even a kid, who in his right mind would ride a bike in the punishingly hot afternoon sun. Then I realized. He was riding close enough to the side of the street where the row of houses were casting their shadows. He was crossing from shadow to shadow. It was one of those light bulb moments I guess. If you want something bad enough, you'll find a way to do it. And necessity is the mother of all innovation.

Most days these days, I feel I'm drudging myself forward from day to day. I'm not miserable. More like depressed. Like I am crossing from shadow to shadow. A shadow in daylight is however very different from one in the night. During the day, shadows are an advantage. They draw a shade against the unforgiving sun. So I guess a change of perspective is in order. However tired or sleepy or depressed I am, I need to look at things like I was standing in the shade on a hot, humid afternoon. I much better cope with the cold better than the heat, so any shade is a welcome thing to me.

Sitting down with mug in hand, I looked at my children and realized. My 2nd kid just started Kindergarten this summer. She's already discovering there are people who are more interesting than Dad or Mom. It won't be long before all my kids grow up and they'd have an indefatigable want to explore the world around them like that kid on the street. It won't be long before they find ways to do what they want to do and get away with it. It won't be long before their mettle at making excuses will be tested. And then they will test their way to through my limits and they will wake to strike out on their own out there in the wider world beyond the borders of my embracing arms. All it takes is a few more summers. I kissed them on the forehead while they napped. I might wake up one day a summer too late.

Genshiken: Return of the Otaku

2011-09-17T14:47:00.005+08:00

I've been watching Genshiken on and off for the last 3 weeks and I've really been getting into the characters as they evolved through the series. It's common for anyone who watches the anime to want to read the manga. It's the same with the loyal manga fans of any series to inversely want to watch the anime when that eventually comes out after the manga itself.

On one of my visits to Book Sale, one of my favorite stores when it comes to cheap books, I stumbled on their manga section. Curious, I browsed around. I found a few titles that I was familiar with over on the anime side of things. Then I found Genshiken: Return of the Otaku. Flipping through the pages, I was surprised to find it was a novel I was leafing through. Curiosity got the better of my and I bought it for Php160.

After reading through the initial chapters, I found what I was looking for. Madarame and Sasahara were in the club room discussing how 'commercial' the whole manga publishing industry had gotten. Madarame was assailing the novel type manga as just another way for the large publishers to squeeze more money out of a series. Sasahara disagreed and to my estimation he thought of novel type manga as an extension of comic-book style manga, just like anime is an extension through a different medium of the original manga series. Well after reading through Genshiken: Return of the Otaku, I tend to agree with Sasahara.

Well, what is it about? Genshiken: Return of the Otaku when compared to the timeline of the anime is somewhere between the season ender for Season 1 and the Season 1 OVA. The members of the Society for the Study of Modern Visual Culture disappear one by one, coinciding with a purge being perpetrated by a new student leader that has hidden motives for trying to control the clubs in the school. His secret mission is to find a demon statue that's supposed to give him supernatural powers should he be able to unite it with it's twin statue. Creepy, huh?

Anyway, the story ends with Madarame being the surprise hero. All is well after another well-timed surprise appearance by the First President of Genshiken. As always, he doesn't get involved but gives the Genshiken a helpful nudge towards the solution to the mystery.

All in all, I enjoyed the Genshiken: Return of the Otaku, even if it was a novel. There were pages though where there were full page illustrations to help tie over the reader deprived of the visuals of the full comic book manga.

The Crooked Man

2011-09-15T19:23:00.000+08:00

It was one of those spur of the moment purchases. It's quite obvious by now that where there are book bargains I go to them. I was browsing the buy-1-take-1 aisle as Expressions and bought 2 books that caught my attention. The Crooked Man by Philip Davison and Microchip: An Idea, Its Genesis, And The Revolution It Created by Jeffrey Zygmont. Both are quite dated, but they seemed interesting. I took on The Crooked Man 1st.

The story revolves around Harry Fielding, an understrapper. He does jobs for the spooks at the MI5, stuff they wouldn't want to be traced back to them. Anything from assassinations to snooping on their own people. The story starts with Fielding's confession. He witnessed a murder committed by hist next door neighbor. It was his testimony that got her convicted. Though the only witness, he was supposed to be implicated in the murder. However, he was extricated from jail by his handler. He was needed on a job and the timing of his jail time couldn't have been worse. So they pulled strings to get him sprung.

He was paid to spy on a mistress. He followed the young lady for a day and while spying on her home he finds out her lover is a minister of parliament. He then witnesses a heated argument, one where she ends up dead. He's able to capture it all on his old camera. He then recovers from his shock and manages to sneak the politician out of the house and calls his handler. Unwittingly, he had to go along and erase all evidence of the murder with his handler.

The story then takes a few twists when he is tasked to kill the reporter ex-lover of the now 'missing' woman who's snooping around and getting dangerously close to exposing his ex's love affair with the politician. After 2 murders, Fielding suddenly develops a conscience and doesn't kill the man. He entraps him, takes the evidence and warns him to get out of the country. Fielding decides to quit his job.

Well, it turned out it he couldn't simply leave his handler. His handler needs someone like him. And he was determined to get Fielding back. Fielding had no choice but to go back after he finds out his young niece went missing one school day. The day he gets back to London to console his brother who was desperately attempting to find the missing girl, he gets news that his friend's hotel that he hid out in was burned to the ground. All the while, he was trying to desperately contact his handler. When his handler knew his message was understood, Fielding's niece turns up in a random police station.

Having been broken, his handler gives him his next job. One drunken night though, he killed a foreigner. That lands him in jail. This time though, he is sprung by his handler's boss. A surprising turn of events, he is contracted by this higher level spook to be his man.

The story ends with Fielding finally extracting his revenge on his handler, managing to make an unwilling accomplice out of the politician whose hide he saved previously.

The twists in this story are quite interesting. It's not your usual spook novel. It's a lot more darker and moody than anything I've read so far. I guess that why I liked it. And I guess the only logical thing to do now is to buy another Philip Davison book.

Genshiken: The Society for the Study of Modern Visual Culture

2011-09-13T18:51:00.003+08:00

I discovered Genshiken when I came across the title on an online playlist of anime themes. Curious, I set about to look for fansubs. Fansubs are always a great source of anime when it isn't available locally. Also, I'm the type who likes my anime in the original Japanese dubs because I think I get more of the emotion from the way the characters are voiced in Japanese. The only problem is I don't speak Japanese, so I mostly rely on fansubs for translations. The other extra feature many fansubbers include is short explanations of the context of some of the conversations. Many cultural nuances can't be captured by the translated English dubs. Fansubs have short notes during the scene to explain what's going on and what the subtle jokes refer to.

Anyway, going back to the series, Genshiken is short for the name of the club that is central to the story. It follows the lives of students in a Tokyo university, all members of the Society for the Study of Modern Visual Culture. There's an anime club and a manga club, but no other club could be more otaku than the Genshiken. The club name hints of this. The purpose of the club is to gather together otaku or hobbyists of different hobbies. They are bound together by their love of anime, manga (mostly doujinshi or fan versions of popular titles) and video games. Hence the club's name that alludes to all of 3 mediums of expressions as part of modern artistic expression of visual arts. Come to think of it, they may be on to something. The love of anime, manga and video games has become so mainstream, labeling it as a sub-culture would be reducing its true influence as too minor in today's society. The club's name may be a bit high-sounding, but yeah it is very descriptive.

The anime is actually an anime adaptation of the manga of the same name. The story starts with Sasahara trying to find a club that would fit his personality. It was awkward in the beginning for him to admit he was otaku. There's a certain stigma attached to being called otaku. To admit being one would be to admit being too obsessive about your hobby. But after spending some time in the club room, he finds the Genshiken to share too many things in common with his personal hobby that the question of joining them or not became moot.

After he joins them, each of the characters are explained in the subsequent episodes. Kousaka, a fellow freshman who joined Genshiken the same semester as Sasahara, is the ultimate gamer among the group. He beats everyone in all fighting games. Madarame is obsessive about his analysis of manga and anime, but he isn't much of a gamer. Kugayama is the most shy of the group, often stammering when he participates in discussions, but he is the only one with a true talent for drawing. Tanaka is a talented and obsessive Plamo enthusiast and Cosplay costume maker. He is a perfect match for Ohno, who is introduced a few episodes in as a returnee from the US. She loves Cosplay and she is their main attraction in school fairs. Her cosplay act is by far their only main club activity during school fairs. Kasukabe is the odd one of the group. Her sole reason for hanging out in the club room is to be with Kousaka. She isn't otaku like the rest, often claiming she hates otaku. But later on in the series, she is forced to cosplay with Ohno and soon warms up to the otakuness of it all.

Overall, I find the reviews to be true. If you are otaku or if you like anime, manga, videos games or tech gadgets or any variation and combination of them, you will definitely relate to the characters of the series. If you have a hard time explaining to friends and family why you're so obsessive about your hobby, this is a good funny anime to show them how it is to be otaku. It is often difficult to admit being one, but if you are one there isn't any use denying it. It is obvious in the way we are sometimes awkward in social situations or too shy to admit we like manga or anime. In the past, I've received comments like "cartoons are for kids" or "you must watch anime because you like cartoon porn". It gets even more awkward when you try to explain it isn't like that at all. But then again, this series does say to otakus out there that it's ok if the rest of the world can't understand you. What's more important is that you're true to yourself.

I'm Still Human After All...

2011-04-17T11:10:00.001+08:00

Friday night, I got word. A dear old friend died. After 2 weeks in a coma, she had succumbed.

For the last 2 days I had been trying to come to terms with myself. When I got the news, I was sad. Very sad. But no tears had come. In the years that have passed I had learned to steel myself against grief. I had forced myself to accept whatever disappointment, however big or small, and move on. I had to move on. The rest of the world either didn't care or didn't stop moving despite what I was feeling. I felt expendable an replaceable, nobody was going to stop to help me if I fell behind. I often told myself that whatever didn't kill me made me stronger. Well, the the last 2 days I was already questioning if I was still human. I asked myself if perhaps I had done too much of this rationalizing that I had succeeded in making myself numb and unfeeling.

Early today, driving to the market, I just said it out loud to my wife. "Namatay na si Maya." I didn't take my eyes off the road. She asked, "Kailan mo nalaman?" I replied, "Nung Byernes, pagkauwi natin" I steadied my grip on the wheel as felt a sudden emptiness fill me.

I had gone to work Thursday night. Friday morning, I had to pickup Matt at swimming practice. Then after that, we had to go to San Fernando to make our monthly mortgage payments. When afternoon came, I had to go back to work to do overtime on work that had to be finished to meet a deadline. By the time I got home, I had been awake 26 hours. That's when I read the text message. I had been sent earlier but I was too busy to have noticed it. I only read it when I got home. Over the last 2 days, I was busy with out usual weekend chores.

After saying that I knew as early as Friday night, and after my wife realized I hadn't talked about in the last 2 days, I finally cried. The sobs came on their own. I could barely hold the steering wheel straight as I drove. I just drove as I sobbed. I sobbed even worse when my wife put her arm around my shoulder to console me. I had to put my hand up to tell her I had to do this on my own. I had to grieve my loss my own way. As we approached the market, the sobs died down. I felt better knowing I could still grieve my loss.

Long Day, Need Sound Rest

2011-02-04T11:49:00.000+08:00

I spent another long night at the office. Really tired. I talked on and on for about 6 hours straight, delivering the same material over and over again. I can't say I didn't enjoy it. I mean why would anyone bother doing something for their job and not enjoy it, right? To do otherwise would be torture. Anyway, I'm just tired. I'm glad to be home. I'm glad I can look over the crib and see my youngest sleeping soundly. I'm glad to be home, welcomed by my sometimes obnoxious 8-year old and my always 'makulit' 2-year old. Together, those two can make for a harrowing experience. But then again you can't really help but enjoy the company of your kids, can you?

Music's usually my cure for long days. This time around I found myself listening to UltraSound - Music for the Unborn Child. I'm not really a big fan of classical, but at certain times it's comforting and soothing. Add to that the fact that, well loud music isn't really going to make my 2-month old all that happy - LOL ;-)

Krispy Kreme and the Conqueror of Shamballa

2011-01-25T10:47:00.000+08:00

It has been some time since I had watched the Full Metal Alchemist series (Fullmetal Alchemist: The Complete First Season and Fullmetal Alchemist: The Complete Second Season) and it felt good to finally close the book and see the ending. The Conqueror of Shamballa gives closure to the series' ending by tying up the loose end and reuniting the brothers.

While watching though, I had a case of the munchies and decided to take a Krispy Kreme from the box the missus had brought home. Lest I forget, I must thank my kumare Sharon for the Krispy Kreme gift certificate! Okay, so going back. while biting down on the rich, scrumptous, lemon creme-topped donut, I wondered. How can something that tastes so good be so bad for you? Ah, the contradictions of life!

As the movie went on, it became more obvious that the message of the whole thing was the most basic thing that makes us people human is the capacity for choice. We have a choice of right and wrong. And when people come together as is a society or culture, they may even define what is right and wrong.

We could choose to follow our principle or compromise it for whatever reason we deem fit. We can choose death as a way to free ourselves of the burden of the world or we could choose to live adn fight on to overcome those burdens. We can choose to be the hero that sacrifices everything or we could cower in for the rest of our lives.

The movie ended with what could have been the most ultimate sacrifice a brother could ever had done. At the end of the series, he was transported to our world in trade of 'equivalent exchange' for Al's life. Eduard Elric had done nothing but find ways of getting back to his own world. There came a chance in the movie and by a confluence of events he was able to go home to his home world and see Al. They fought the invading our-world army tainted by the evils of the gate. In the end, Eduard decided to go back to the pre-Nazi Germany of our world to close the gate from that end, leaving Al with his last wish to close the gate from their world.

The end of the movie was just as much a reflection of the power of choice. Al finds a way of going with his brother. His counterpart in 1923 Germany, Alfons, died a hero. Reunited, the brothers decide to start anew in this other world of ours and make it their home.

The movie felt so good I just had to get another Krispy Kreme. And again the thought came to me, "How can something that tastes so good be so bad for you"? We live and make choices. Our ultimate realization of life's value come from the appreciation of choice. We live with the consequences of our choices. Mistakes have their own value as well, if we learn from them. Doing the right thing isn't always the same thing for everyone. Choice, my friend. And yes, I did have that 2nd chocolate donut.

Goodbye NU107

2010-11-07T12:31:00.001+08:00

As the final hours approach, I stay tuned:

Dropbox - Save, Share, Sync Files Between Computers

2010-08-25T00:19:00.000+08:00

Tired of emailing files to yourself so you could save a revised version of a document on another computer? Want to have automatic syncing of files so you always have access to the latest versions on different computers? You can and you will with Dropbox.

Dropbox creates a folder on your Windows, Linux and Mac where you can save files. It automatically syncs changes so you'll never have to email yourself the latest version. You can undo the changes to revert back to previous versions of a file. You can access them from your Windows, Linux or Mac computer. You can even access your files from the web or check on your files using Android and iPhone apps. Dropbox also allows you to share files with other users. All of this can be done with drag-and-drop ease.

Dropbox gives users 2GB of free online storage. There is a way to get even more free. Dropbox gives you a link to use to track your referrals. If new users use your link to sign up, you and your refferral will each get 250MB on top of your existing free space. You can have up to 8GB free! I have to admit though that isn't much compared to paid service, but you can maximize your use of it for the important files that you must have access to from anywhere. Since installing Dropbox, I've used it as a universal folder for files accessible from three different computers. That's the folder where I save my Linux config files, installers to use for later and notes on a notepad to access anywhere. I even save pics for posting on there so I can access them when I have free time during coffee breaks.

So, if your interested use this link: http://www.dropbox.com/referrals/NTEwMjA1MzQyOQ. You and I both will get extra storage! Spread the Dropbox love ;-)

My Mobile Phones In The Past Decade

2010-08-21T00:21:00.000+08:00

One night I was fiddling with my Treo 650 and out of the blue I suddenly recalled one after the other all the phones I've ever used. Technology has come a long way in the past 10 years. I thought I'd share my personal mobile phone history with you all.

Motorola CD930- my first phone. Bought 2nd hand in 2000 from a friend who swore it came from Europe. I had no reason not to believe him. At the time, close to 99% of phones sold in the Philippines were Nokia. The display had a very luminescent green backlight and finer dots compared to the blocky text on yellowish-green backlights the Nokias screens had. I had to buy a new phone when the battery decided to call it quits and I couldn't find a replacement anywhere.

Nokia 3310 - bought a few months after getting a steady job. It was a practical choice. Accessories for Nokias had started to flood the market making it cheaper to maintain. This was my 'ligaw' phone. It spanned 3 relationships, the last one heralding a new chapter in my life. I spent a small fortune in 300-peso call cards on this thing calling my wife-to-be. It paid off as you can tell. I got married to her ;-) Incidentally, I bought my first ever ringtone for this phone. Hazard a guess? It was Shaggy's It Wasn't Me.

Nokia 7110 - the Matrix phone, as I called it. This phone lured me into subscribing to a postpaid plan. I just had to have it. It was so cool releasing the keypad cover on that phone to take a call, Neo style!

Nokia 3210 - downgraded to this hand-me-down when I needed cash and sold both the 3310 and the 7210. Darn, now that I think about it all the Nokias back then always ended in '10'. Like it was a last name or sumthin'.

Nokia 3100- got this brand-spanking-new after I renewed my contract. This thing lasted a really long time. After I stopped using it, I gave it to my mom. It died last year after 2 power buttons, 3 batteries and at least 10 face plate changes. I don't even remember how old it was!

Motorola E398 - the version of the Moto ROKR that wasn't tainted by the curse that was iTunes 4. It was the 1st phone to support TransFlash (eventually renamed MicroSD). I had to ask a friend in the US to send me one because the MicroSD cards sold locally cost twice as much. The music I loaded on the thing kept me happy despite the absence of an iPod in my life.

Palm Treo650 - this was sent as a gift by an Aunt of ours. 4 years old and still going strong. It's got dents, peeled paint and occasional button lag but it's still my fave. It introduced me to threaded SMS and apps on a phone. The apps meant I could read ebooks, edit spreadsheets, look up a word in a dictionary or cover MPG to KM/L. That got me hooked into Smartphones. Thing is once you get hooked there is no turning back. Stuck with it and just recently bought an HTC to replace it. After a few days I missed it, so I bought a prepaid SIM just go on using it. Now I have 2 phones I love.

Sony-Ericsson K530i - it was my 1st 3G phone. It had a great cam for it size. Browser was great, Opera Mini was even better despite the smallish screen. Also had a good MP3 player, but I hated that it took only MS-Micro cards. Those cards are expensive. I had to relinquish it to my wife as she had lost her phone at the time. It lived a short life. It died a few months out of the box when it was dropped into a bucket of water. Don't ask me, it wasn't me. I was using the Treo650 when it kicked the bucket. :-p

Samsung SGH-E590 - originally bought this for my mom to replace the Nokia 3100. It had a great camera for the price. The screen was great too. I ended up using it for a while. But my joy was cut short when it died 3 days after I got it. The battery would heat up and it couldn't get a signal whatever I did. I was able to return it to Smart, but the replacement took close to a month. It was working for another 3 months then had the same battery and signal problem. I had it fixed under warranty and it's been fine since then. My wife uses it now, because while waiting for a replacement unit I bought a Nokia 1208 for mom. And because of the bad experience and anecdotal info that Samsungs were known to have battery problems, I've swore never to buy another Samsung again.

Nokia 1208 - the cheapest phone I have ever laid my eyes on. I got it for Php 1,400. Fearing another lemon like the Samsung because it cost half as much, I used it for a few days before turning it over to my mom. It's about as basic as you can get. The color screen only supported 3 lines of text. Both text and graphics appeared big and blocky. It's keypad was rubbery and the numbers felt like they'd fade in a matter of months. I used it mostly for calls and it was great. Texting was another matter though, because of the rubbery keypad. Battery life was outstanding. It could last close to five days if all you did was send text messages and an occasional 2-minute call. It's most important feature was up on top -- it had a flashlight!

HTC Tattoo - after waiting around for prices to come down, I found the Smartphone I couldn't pass up on. It's got all the things I wanted -- a large screen for reading ebooks, mail + calendar sync, 3G, WiFi, GPS, a Linux OS and tons of free apps! Android is tha Bomb!

So, what about you? What phones were you using 10, 5 and 2 years ago? Leave a comment. Let's reminisce about old kit.

The Zahir

2010-08-18T23:50:00.000+08:00

I finished reading The Zahir a few days ago. As usual for a Coelho book, the story has me thinking about me, what it means to be me and how being me affects the people I love. Like many other people, I go through my own troubles. That's maybe why i named this blog as it is titled. Thoughts sometimes go through my head, each opposing side talking whiel the core self listens to both arguments. Often, it's a stalemate. No one side wins over the over. At times one side presents a convincing argument, but the heart of the core self belongs to the other side.

The Zahir is a story about a writer. His wife suddenly disappeared. He couldn't figure out why she chose to do so. After getting over being angery, bitter and sullen, he began taking an honest look at himself and his marriage. In his pusuit to purge himself of all doubt and his desire to see his wife again, he mets a man, another woman and himself.

The man, he suspected of being his wife's lover. That turns out to be untrue. But the man touches him with his gift, a unique connection to the universe that conspires to make dreams come true. This man helps him find what he truly seeks. The other woman, girlfriend who loved him so, stayed with him as long as he would have her. She knew he still yearned to see his wife, but she stuck on anyway. Because that was how love was like, it cared not what it received in exchange of what it gave. All along the story he recounts how he hesitated before he started writing. He recounted how he poured his soul into each succeeding book without even knowing it. He pictured how he would write, possessed with a torturous need to finish each book, only finding solace once the book has written itself. He believed a writer was just that, a typist for the book. The book finishes itself. The book always had a life of it's own, revealing itself so the writer could share it's essence in a language men would understand.

In the end, he finds peace. He makes peace with who he is. Only then does he find himself worthy to seek out his Zahir, the one thing he count not live without.

=============================
Disclaimer: This is far from a review. I write about how I feel and how the book 'talked' to me. I am no critic by any chance, just another dude with a blog.

Free eBooks -- Manybooks and Feedbooks

2010-08-17T00:55:00.000+08:00

For several years now, I have been going to ManyBooks.net for free ebooks. They were one of a very short list of sites that provide free ebooks compatible with .pdb (eReader) which was the compatible format for Palm OS app I used. I've found it convenient to go to them because of that. Add to that the fact that they have a very wide selection of stuff. They have around 28,000 books available in 23 different ebook formats. This was where I discovered some interesting titles like Blind Shrike, Halo and Graveyard of Dreams. I also found classics like The Art of War, The Cathedral and The Bazaar, The Complete Works of William Shakespeare, Jude the Obscure and Hitchhiker's Guide to the Internet.

I recently got an Android device though, and that has had me working with .epub more. I'm certainly glad that new devices coming to market have been gravitating to .epub in that the trend will make it possible to cut down the competing formats into 2-3. I mean I had to live with ebook format hell, just like I had to endure codec hell with media players.The books that I wanted were sometimes not available in the format I needed. Conversion was usually a complicated affair, converting to one format before converting to the final format you'll be using. And even then conversions usually messed up the way text was displayed and didn't preserve chapter info. Having a limited list of popular formats makes publishers concentrate on those and that makes the need for conversions obsolete.

Moving on from that rant, .epub is quite popular these days. I've found it easy to convert old PDF and PDB format ebooks into EPUB using Calibre (more on that in another post). For new stuff, I also discovered a new site when I started using the Aldiko ebook reader on my HTC Tattoo. My new favorite goto site for free ebooks is Feedbooks. Feedbooks lists a wide variety of ebooks from public domain books. They also have a growing list of original books, creative works whose authors have chosen to release free of cost to readers as a form of promoting their lit. Different from ManyBooks.net that hosts every possible format you may ever want, Feedbooks concentrates on today's popular formats. You can download in only three formats -- .epub, .azw (Kindle) and .pdf. There's a fourth option for Custom PDF that's only available to registered users. Custom allows you to configure the size of each page (in mm) and the font (type and size) to use according to what will fit your device's screen. You wouldn't have to convert it any further after that. Feedbooks also has a mobile site to make it easier to scroll and pan while looking for books to download. I've tested downloading to my phone. It's really convenient when you see something interesting and want to download it immediately lest you forget when you get to your PC.

While both have their own pros and cons, I go to both sites primarily to discover something new. Oddly enough, you don't have to buy anything to discover works that interest you. I first discovered authors like Rick Dakan (Geek Mafia) and Benjamin Rosenbaum (True Names) browsing through both sites. I've also stumbled upon old titles that I've wanted to read in the past, but didn't have the inclination to buy.

Moody Music

2010-07-07T23:23:00.000+08:00

A few weeks back I discovered stereomood.com. I've been using AOL Radio for many years, owing to the fact that I had been using AIM since the year 2000 A.D. Ancient history to many of you. But hey, I used AIM most of the time so it was only natural that I gravitate to something already there. I also listened to the listed radio stations on the native Yahoo Messenger client, but since I had a need to sign-on to multiple IM accounts, I mostly used Pidgin. Granted, it would have been easy enough to just go to Yahoo.com and listen from there. I just found it more comfy to use AOL Radio.

Recently though, AOL Radio had started restricting access for users outside the US. Most of the stations on it turned out to be CBS affiliates. Well you know how media companies are nowadays about 'enforcing' rights to use on their 'property'. Looking for alternatives, I played around with Imeem for some time. I left it after songs started getting taken down because of DMCA notices. This was before it was swallowed whole by MySpace I also played around with MP3Tunes for a while too. It was good in the sense that I could listen to my music from anywhere. But the 2GB limit for the free account did mean I had to cycle what I had in my music locker from time to time. It wasn't big in discovering new music like radio traditionally is. Last.FM was great in that respect, discovering new music. You usually get good suggestions on new stuff to try based on the bands or singers that you've already chosen. However, if you listen to a very wide selection from different genres, it gets confused and the suggestions stray farther than you'd want at times.

I found an interesting alternative, stereomood.com. It does take some time to get used to the idea. There aren't any stations or genres to pick like in traditional radio. Instead you pick on a mood to get a pre-set playlists specific to that mood. Happy gets you happy songs. Relax gives you relaxing songs. Feel Like Crying gives you... well, feel-like-crying songs. It's hard to explain and better understood when you listen to it and try it. If you choose to login, you can actually vote a song so it stays in the playlist for that mood or 'heart' a favorite song. You can create your own playlist or add songs to your library if you want to customize. Options are there as well to buy songs from the iTunes Store and Amazon's MP3 Store.

Already I've discovered some artists I wouldn't have come across otherwise. Take for example Akira Kosemura who was in the Relax playlist. I liked the few songs that were there. I've never heard of him. So I searched the web and found he's actually released several albums independently and has a dedicated following. With every mood I try, I discover something I like -- a Pixies tribute in piano, a rare Stevie Nicks song, . It's a nice site for exploring new music. Try something you've never heard before and discover stuff that would otherwise have been obscured by the information overload characterizing popular media today. Give it a go. You won't regret it, promise :-)

Writer's Block

2010-07-05T23:40:00.003+08:00

I haven't had any ideas to write about. And it seems every writer or blogger suffers from a lack of enthusiasm or interest every now and then. Then there are days when you're just gushing with ideas you can't stop typing.

By chance I had been reading Bag of Bones, which I bought a few months back at a second-hand bookstore together with Whiteout. Having bought and read other books after, I had forgotten about it and left it gathering dust in my book shelf. Over the weekend I was looking at my bookshelf to see what I could do away with. Mostly I had old computer magazines that I could donate somewhere. My wife had already taken a few of the magazines and donated them to one of my son's therapists. I noticed Bag of Bones, stared at it for a moment and took it off the shelf. I started reading and after a few pages came to a discovery of sorts.

The story starts off with the main character saying goodbye to his wife, tragically not knowing it would be for the last time. Mike Noonan, a novelist, had suffered loss that will impair his writing for years to come. His wife had died suddenly of an aneurysm. He found out later that his wife was pregnant when she died. It was a tragedy in itself, as they had been trying to conceive for years with no success. He had suffered a writer's block after turning in his last piece of work, a half-finished novel at the time of his wife's death. Still, he was able to turn in a novel for each of the next three years. He revealed a trick he had discovered during his writing career. He had created 3 extra novels in-between his other works. And since he only submitted one per year to his publisher, he had these works stored in a safety deposit box just in case. Well, it came to be that he did need it. For three years after his wife died, he had submitted a finished novel to appease his agent and his publisher. The fourth year was the killer, he longer had a reserve and he still couldn't find it in him to write again. So the story continues from there.

That got me thinking. I mean that sounds like a logical way to regularly have something to post on your blog. If you're aiming to have an article a day, you can actually set aside time during the weekend to write up stuff and publish one per day. If you have a feature on your blog to schedule when a post gets published, like Blogger does, then you can actually set it and forget. So I plan on doing it that way, since there are times I actually have lots of ideas to work on anyway. The only thing I'd have to review would be the links. By the time I publish anything, I may need to check if the links are still up-to-date. Eventually, I will want to publish one article a day. That's my goal anyway. Wish me luck :-)

Solitude

2010-06-15T16:50:00.000+08:00

It's been a while since I've had these episodic attacks of insomnia and depression. Last night was awful. I lay awake in bed for what seemed like hours. Though looking at my phone at the time it must've been around three hours before I finally dozed off.

During college, being surrounded by writers, activists and musicians, we had a term for this. It was the "i wanna curl up and die" syndrome. The 1990's were an in-between time that made for a confused generation of people trying to sort their feelings out. You had the vestiges of the New Wave melodramatic culture trying to resurface. The angst of the revived punk movement was rising from the ashes. The technology of the internet was just starting to influence how people used computers. I and my group of writers were torn between our DOS-based Wordstar and new-car-smell appeal of Windows 3.1. There were left-wing rallies everywhere. I was wearing anything from torn jeans, concert t-shirts, leather sandals, Vans skate shoes, Mao caps, eye glasses (nope, I had perfect vision). I wore my hair long. I was a jumble of contradictions.

Those times, as confusing as they were, were conducive to writing. Writers with extreme emotions are able to draw inspiration from them. So bouts of depression were almost always half-wanted. These days, my bouts of depression are unwanted. They come and bother me from time to time. Usually the images in my head range from saddening scenes of me in various stages of emotional and physical distress to morbid thoughts of an unspeakable degree. The vivid detail in my imagination had always been a blessing or a curse.

So last night was difficult. I was struggling. I couldn't sleep. I almost wept. I was pathetic. But it was a cycle I had to go through, I had to ride it out. And then I dozed off. I woke up feeling tired, a few hours of sleep not helping one bit. I found my little girl had strewn the floor with 4 different kinds of flash cards. Toys were all over the floor too. She was almost at a tantrum and when she saw I was awake kept asking me for her morning bath. It was time for her morning bath and she was adamant about keeping her schedule. As I picked up the flash cards and started sorting them to put them back in their designated cartons, I felt a little bit better. The domestic routine ground on you, but it was also comforting to feel needed. Belonging is one thing, but to feel needed is foremost in what every depressed person out there may be craving. To feel useless is be without purpose. And without purpose, what are we to world?

Makers - You and Me

2010-06-03T00:42:00.000+08:00

I've started reading Cory Doctorow's Makers. It all started when listening to This Week in Tech (TWIT) I heard Doctorow speak about a subject he's very passionate about. I had read a few of his books before, all free downloads from Craphound.com. Hearing him again made me look at books he recently posted. He makes ebook versions of his books available for free and makes money off the book sales. It may seem counterintuitive to do that, but he has a following and he was able to make it work.

Anyway, reading the first 60 or so pages has already made an impression on me. So much so that my head's has been buzzing with ideas, half-baked all of them, of how to create value out of ideas. I studied entrepreneurship in college and I know the value of a good idea. But tradition has it that creating means making a tangible product you could sell. Reading Makers has made me realize that it doesn't have to be a product per se. An idea has an intrinsic value in itself and to monetize that is where you get a profit from. Whether or not its commercially viable is up to the public but an idea you have is bound to be useful to someone somewhere. Sounds familiar to me. It's actually one of the reason why I blog. My thoughts may not hold much value for you but they may be to someone else.

Moving along those thoughts, I find my self wanting to move my blog out of Blogger. I haven't really been taking it seriously, posting snippets of my life and my opinion from time to time. I had an incident a few weeks back where my personal blog was tagged as spam by a bot. The appeals process took at least 2 weeks, but that made me realize that I valued the content of my personal blog so much. I want to protect it. Moving to hosted space, I could secure that data as long as I was willing to pay for it. The crux is that it has to be self-sustaining. So why not get serious with monetizing one of them to subsidize the personal blogs, right?

I've been talking to an old friend who offered to host my blog for a very friendly price. I just need to iron out a few things to make it work, mostly the logistics of moving my data over and sourcing the money I need to pay for the service.

I created something when I started blogging. It is valuable to me, and if my belief holds true, it is of value to someone else. I will make the move and in doing so I want to create more to continue doing what I love to do - write. Makers. We are all creators in our own small way. We should realize that is valuable, more than we ever seem to truly think.

The Book Of Eli - My Thoughts

2010-05-25T13:13:00.000+08:00

I watched The Book of Eli with expectations of feasting my eyes before an all-out action movie. I didn't expect it to be... well, moving. I didn't have a chance to look at plot summaries so I was expecting something entirely different. As it turned out, it was better than I hoped for.

The story takes place in a post-apocalyptic world after "the war" that caused unsurpassed damage to the environment. Eli talks about a hole in the sky that burned the surface of the earth and made the surface unlivable for some years. He recounted how he had wandered after going back to the surface, finding the book under ruins after heeding "a voice" inside of him that guided him. The book, the last of its kind, is the last known Bible of his world. He recounted how people destroyed all other copies because they blamed it for causing "the war". He held on to that book until the very near end of the movie, showing dedication in keeping it safe from other people who may wish to destroy it or use is for other-than-good intentions.

With the world around him so desolate, Eli appears like a post-apocalyptic prophet, guide by his faith and only by that faith's purpose. He confessed to walking for the last 30 years, not knowing his destination, only following the voice inside of him. There are scenes in the movie that are violent, least to say, but it comes across as a means-to-an-end justification as the movie progresses.

The final twist, which will amaze you, reveals itself when the Book is taken from him. Eli gave it up to save a life, was mortally wounded and continued to walk “west”. The Book was taken by the antagonist, was later unlocked and it revealed what Eli truly was. Eli reached his destination, and all was revealed. He did not need the physical book. He knew the words by heart and he found a way to preserve it by passing on his knowledge.

Though the Book is a Bible and Eli clearly professes his religious leanings throughout the film, it doesn't come across as proselytizing. The emphasis is on his faith as a man and what his faith enabled him to accomplish. It would not have been as great except for what was revealed near the end. I won't do a spoiler, so I guess you'll have to watch the movie to find out how that came to be. But I can say that The Book of Eli will be worth your while. Very worth your while.

Wanting to be Indifferent

2010-05-21T01:22:00.000+08:00

The days following the weekend, a bit of news had me happy and content. It had me hoping and dreaming. Then when the same news was not welcomed by someone very important to me, even labeled as a "problem", it irked me. Then after a few hours it depressed me. That was yesterday. I feel differently today, having mixed feelings of guilt, anger and frustration. At times we don't realize the impact our words have on others. We are callous to what words can create or destroy. For me, this time around, it brought my world crashing in.

I've been pre-occupied with these thoughts the past couple of days that I've been dreaming weird dreams. The other night, I couldn't concentrate in the audio book I was listening to. It was half past midnight. I was lying down, listening to Daemon. I was drifting in and out of sleep as the reader rambled on about the story. In between waking consciousness and drifting off I saw snatches of split-second images. Anatomical figures, much like pieces of those anatomy dolls showing the nature-engineered magnificence of the human body beneath the cover of skin floated in and out of my sight. An arm, the upper torso, a leg, the face and shoulders, all with muscles exposed. It went on too fast for me to even register fear in my subconscious dreaming stupor. In my waking moments, trying to remember what it was I dreamt about, I was surprised to find I wasn't afraid of the scenes that unfolded. It would have been logical to feel fear. Weirdly enough, I remember feeling calm all through out, like the strangeness of it all had stirred an oblivious detachment in me. I was, during the dream, without emotion. I was just a passive observer, free of pain, fear or worry.

Looking back at that dream, I cannot but feel a need to be detached.

Finished Cryptonomicon, Going Baroque Next

2010-05-05T11:32:00.000+08:00

I finished reading Cryptonomicon a few days go and I finally came around to reading the preview of Quicksilver at the back of the book yesterday. It makes me want to buy the whole Baroque Cycle series. After finishing Cryptonomicon, having been a bit disappointed at how unspectacular the ending was, I was left wanting for a sequel. There isn't a sequel per se, but there's the Baroque Cycle series of 3 books which are prequels to Cryptonomicon story. All 3 books are 900+ pages each. Pretty hefty and in the same long-winded story kind of book as Cryptonomicon was. The preview I read has stirred my interest and I am planning to buy the three, but maybe do it one at a time. You can actually find the 3 books at Amazon for about US$10 each and on Barnes and Noble for US$11.50 each. If you find the right page though, you'll be able to get a great deal buying all three for just US$25 in Amazon (go to this page and scroll down a bit and you'll see a link to the $25 offer: The Confusion). That qualifies it for Amazon's free shipping. Barnes and Noble also offers the same free shipping when you spend $25. If only I lived in the continental US - LOL.

I did try and find out how much it would cost for Amazon to ship it to me here in the Philippines. That almost doubled the price, since the shipping charges were around US$20. I might find better prices if I scour around Fully Booked this weekend. Their store at Marquee Mall has a few copies of The Confusion the last time I was there. I could always ask them for all three and just wait for the books to arrive. They actually have great prices, considering they're bringing in these books from the US. So off to the mall I go.

Thank You Blogger for Restoring My Blog!

2010-05-01T21:57:00.000+08:00

I finally got my blog back, thanks to people at the Blogger Help Forums! I specifically wants to thank nitecruzr who guided me through the process of appealing the spam tag that my blog got.

I didn't know how bad spam in Blogger was until my blog was tagged as spam (read the FAQ here: FAQ: My Blog Is Locked As Spam). As a normal reaction I bawled and complained, rather badly. I did not know what to do. nitecruzr, one of the Blogger Help moderators, helped me through the process. It was a long process, and I had to do a lot of reading to understand why and how Blogger blogs are tagged as spam. I understand it better now, though I fear the false-positive might happen again.

But now that I have my blog back, it is all that matters.

Dive Into Cryptonomicon

2010-04-03T02:17:00.002+08:00

I've been looking at local bookstores for a copy of Neal Stephenson's Cryptonomicon. Last Saturday, I went to Marquee Mall with the wife and kids to meet up with old friends. We were there for a few hours and my baby girl was getting restless, enough so that I had to take outside to calm her down a bit. I wasn't aware that Fully Booked was 2 storefronts away from the coffee shop that we went to. I decided to take the little one with me and go look at what they had on their shelves.

The Fully Booked store at Marquee was definitely bigger than the one in SM Clark. And you know what that means. More shelves mean better variety. I asked one of the staff in passing if they had any Neal Stephenson books in stock. He excused himself, saying he would check their inventory. I walked around, baby in tow, around the shelves. My baby girl was touching the spines of books, face me and say "book" with a smile. That made my day. My baby girl, she liked being around books. And I, like a boy excited, browsed the shelves breathing in the atmosphere, wanting to grab and take home every little (and big) book that caught my eye.

It's been a ritual of sorts for me since high school, when I first discovered books weren't just for reading, as in as a skill, like in school. I discovered books were also for enjoyment. That opened the floodgates. Back then, the only large bookstore that carried novels was National Bookstore. Most of them were in Manila, very few were in the provinces. So it was during my freshman year that I got the chance to go to different National Bookstore branches. Buying textbooks was my flimsy excuse. But behind that was a motive. I had always loved browsing through the shelves. The school libraries I had gone to had always had textbooks and naught more. National Bookstore was way better stocked. And in those days, nobody bothered you if say you picked up a book and leafed through it some. Sampling a chapter or two was okay with the clerks. No one stared at you for guerilla reading back then. So each time I had a chance to get to a National Bookstore, I would wander wide-eyed amongst the shelves and not mind time. I still do that, actually. Every so often, I'd go into a bookstore and be lost in the shelves.

These days, I have money to spend, though most of the time I have to spend it on something more important. Once in a while I would indulge in a book or two. The clerk at Fully Booked returned with a paperback copy of Cryptonomicon. I was so glad that I unwittingly smiled and told him that I've been looking for a copy for a long time and all the bookstores I've been to didn't have it. He guided me to the section where he got it from and I found there was second much smaller copy. It had a font size that I preferred and it cost about half as much. I choose the 2nd copy of Cryptonomicon and took it home.

I haven't really had time to read it yet. I've gone through the 1st chapter and some of the 2nd. Hopefully by this weekend I can free up some time to do so. Wish me luck.