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 | Sometimes I go whole days
listening bored, half sleep
I won't say anything
that's worth a thing to me
One day, suddenly, time
took a turn that once felt so brief
I blinked to see polite ghosts fading quickly
What begins as an unguarded
train of thoughts slowly can become
an addiction to the slumber
of disconnection and the resonance
of memory that no longer has a shape
but keeps you numb through
the hours till gone is another day
Be aware, my darling
these things I say I mean
are just traces of something
I long to feel again
I see our time expand
in the air almost forcibly,
spreading thinner till it dissolves completely
--Half Asleep, by School of Seven Bells
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Close Encounters of the Troll Kind
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Aug 8, 2007 8:27 am
1590 Views
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I've been chatting on Friendfinder for 5 years now, but it's only been a month or so since I've discovered the blogs and started one myself. Some of the funniest people I've seen online I've met in the Clean Room chatroom, and many's a night I've found myself practically unable to type, cracking up so hard at one witty post after another. So I still drop by regularly, despite all the drama and the bickering, because all I'm really after in there is the laughs.
One thing I do like about the blogs compared to the chatrooms, though, is this---
No trolls.
Trolls are usually male chatters who:
1. Think that just because you're online you're already amenable to having cybersex with anyone who says hi to you, and actually feel offended if you won't give them your IM address;
2. Expect that you WILL give your real name and phone number in a public chatroom just because they asked;
3. Actually believe calling you "dear" or "babe" from the outset will flatter you, and you'll feel so complimented you will be unable to resist their charms.
Most people just ignore trolls, or actually pick fights, but me, I like confounding them. Some samples of Troll Encounters:
Troll Encounter #1:
Troll: Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii Munc!!!! Wat ur name????
Me: Milton
Troll: Milton? Nice name.
Me: Yes, they named me after my daddy.
Troll Encounter #2: (I got the idea from my friend Sherry who used it once)
Troll: Hi Munch dear, let's cam and have hot sexy chat on IM.
Me: What's an IM?
Troll: (spends the next half hour trying to explain IM to apparently clueless me, while people who actually have my IM are already IMing me cracking up because they could practically see steam coming out of this guy's ears)
Troll: (Finally spent) Why don't you just email me? My addy is at suchandsuch @ soandso, ok??
Me: Wait, I can't find the @ key on my keyboard.
(He leaves in a huff after that---was it something I said?)
Troll Encounter # 3: (with eyzright)
Troll: Anyone wanna suck a black dike?
Eyzright: Black dike? You Dutch?
Me: Isn't that kinda heavy, dragging your black dike around?
Troll: Suck my black dike!!!
Eyzright: You think he spelled it wrong, mate?
Me: Could be, or it's one heck of a fetish.
Troll: I wanna f*** your asses!!!
Eyzright: Why do you want to do that with my donkey, mate?
Me: I am outraged! My donkey has standards! At least take him out to dinner by candlelight first.
(Funny thing is, this troll then whined to the room that we were being nasty to him)
Troll Encounter #4:
Troll: HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII MUNCHINMATORN U CHAT ME I AM BIIIIIIIIIIIG BOY!!!!
Me: Ok, now that you've practiced here, try standing on the nearest street corner and yelling that at every gal that passes by--I guarantee, you'll get SOMETHING.
Hope he took my advice.
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34
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Close Encounters of the Troll Kind
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Aug 7, 2007 11:22 pm
1128 Views
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I've been chatting on Friendfinder for 5 years now, but it's only been a month or so since I've discovered the blogs and started one myself. Some of the funniest people I've seen online I've met in the Clean Room chatroom, and many's a night I've found myself practically unable to type, cracking up so hard at one witty post after another. So I still drop by regularly, despite all the drama and the bickering, because all I'm really after in there is the laughs.
One thing I do like about the blogs compared to the chatrooms, though, is this---
No trolls.
Trolls are usually male chatters who:
1. Think that just because you're online you're already amenable to having cybersex with anyone who says hi to you, and actually feel offended if you won't give them your IM address;
2. Expect that you WILL give your real name and phone number in a public chatroom just because they asked;
3. Actually believe calling you "dear" or "babe" from the outset will flatter you, and you'll feel so complimented you will be unable to resist their charms.
Most people just ignore trolls, or actually pick fights, but me, I like confounding them. Some samples of Troll Encounters:
Troll Encounter #1:
Troll: Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii Munc!!!! Wat ur name????
Me: Milton
Troll: Milton? Nice name.
Me: Yes, they named me after my daddy.
Troll Encounter #2: (I got the idea from my friend Sherry who used it once)
Troll: Hi Munch dear, let's cam and have hot sexy chat on IM.
Me: What's an IM?
Troll: (spends the next half hour trying to explain IM to apparently clueless me, while people who actually have my IM are already IMing me cracking up because they could practically see steam coming out of this guy's ears)
Troll: (Finally spent) Why don't you just email me? My addy is at suchandsuch @ soandso, ok??
Me: Wait, I can't find the @ key on my keyboard.
(He leaves in a huff after that---was it something I said?)
Troll Encounter # 3: (with eyzright)
Troll: Anyone wanna suck a black dike?
Eyzright: Black dike? You Dutch?
Me: Isn't that kinda heavy, dragging your black dike around?
Troll: Suck my black dike!!!
Eyzright: You think he spelled it wrong, mate?
Me: Could be, or it's one heck of a fetish.
Troll: I wanna f*** your asses!!!
Eyzright: Why do you want to do that with my donkey, mate?
Me: I am outraged! My donkey has standards! At least take him out to dinner by candlelight first.
(Funny thing is, this troll then whined to the room that we were being nasty to him)
Troll Encounter #4:
Troll: HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII MUNCHINMATORN U CHAT ME I AM BIIIIIIIIIIIG BOY!!!!
Me: Ok, now that you've practiced here, try standing on the nearest street corner and yelling that at every gal that passes by--I guarantee, you'll get SOMETHING.
Hope he took my advice.
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4
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Typhoon
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Aug 7, 2007 8:24 am
1374 Views
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The rain skitters
Staccato rhythms
Across the old tin roof
Like frenzied drumming
Tap tap tapping
A beat of downpour proof
Drops glissando
Winds crescendo
Howling from the sky
Swirling tempest
Nature's outburst
Furor from on high
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22
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Maternal Monologue
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Aug 5, 2007 9:43 am
1621 Views
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I've been a stay-at-home mom till this year, when my youngest started big school and I decided it was time to ease back into my law practice, which I've put on hold when my eldest was born in 1998. Even now I do my work part time, working mainly as a client recruiter for a firm I've put up with a husband and wife team who were my classmates in law school. It frees me up to be with my boys, and I personally see to their homework, wake up early to bring them to school, and basically attend to all their needs--though I do have help, thank goodness.
I can't count the number of times back when I was still a stay-at-home mom when I would bump into one acquaintance or another who would ask me where I worked. Whenever I would reply that I wasn't doing any full time legal practice, just volunteering once in a while because I had to take care of the kids, invariably the responses would fall into two categories.
1. "God, lucky you, not needing to work! Wish I had that luxury!"
2. "What? What a waste, all those years of schooling, just to be a housewife?"
The first response makes me mumble and reply sheepishly that, well, am just lucky hubby earns enough to support all of us, and leave it at that.
The second though, riles me up. "Just to be a housewife."
It implies that being a housewife and a stay at home mom is an inferior calling, and that if I was going to end up doing that anyway, why did I even bother to study law? As if, since I was going to be at home taking care of my kids most of the time, why did I even need to slog through all those years for a Juris Doctor?
Thing is, I've always believed that since children never asked to be born in the first place, it behooves us, as parents, to provide them with the best possible care and attention we can give, whether as single parents, or as parents who both need to work to make ends meet, or, like me, a parent who elected not to work, but to take care of my boys.
In my case, since my husband--being the eldest and by asian tradition the one who, by default, ran the family business--had no choice but to put in long hours, someone had to be with our sons. So it was that I fully embraced the role of full time parent, and gave up a promising career without regret.
I've always said that I can always go back to lawyering whenever the time was right, but how do I turn back time on the crucial years of childhood, when my children needed a parent the most? That I had the option to be a stay at home mom was something I felt privileged to have. I just didn't realize that there were people who would think that my choosing to raise my kids full time, instead of focusing on a career, was a waste of my education.
Huh.
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36
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Random Thought
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Aug 3, 2007 8:49 am
894 Views
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I'm beginning to feel an itch in my throat. I hate coming down with the sniffles, because it makes me sound like a cross between George Burns and Marge Simpson. Which would be a catastrophe if I ran a phone s*x line.
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8
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Lost in Translation
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Aug 2, 2007 12:48 am
1256 Views
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Nope, I haven't watched the movie yet, though it's on top of my to-do list, along with achieving world peace (beauty queen wave).
My law partner Chris had to take an urgent trip to Sorong, Indonesia for a client whose ship got held by Indonesian coast guards. Now, Sorong isn't exactly a tourist spot, so hotel accomodations were basic at best. Exactly how basic, Chris was about to find out.
After an almost three hour flight from Manado to Ellis Air Field, Chris, along with a Philippine consular officer, had to take a motorized canoe to Sorong. They were approached by about half a dozen aboriginal boatmen, all offering their canoes for transport, holding up fingers to indicate how many motors their boats had, the better to prove how fast they could get to Sorong. After much grunting, miming, and wrangling, Chris and his companion finally settled on a boatman who held up five fingers, which in turn ticked off some boatmen, who started arguing with Five Fingers, who in turn grabbed one of Chris' bags and tossed it into his canoe. This, of course, led another boatman to grab one other bag, toss it to HIS canoe, and another to grab the bag of Chris' companion, tossing it into HIS canoe, too.
Eventually they get everything sorted out, and, managing to retrieve all their luggage and putting it into Five Fingers' boat, set off for Sorong. When they get there, there is a cluster of other canoes at the dock, so that Chris and his companion, their bags balanced atop their heads, had to hop-skip from one boat to another to get to shore.
Tired after all that wrangling and hop-skipping, Chris collapses onto his hotel bed, but not before being acquainted with his personal valet, a rat the size of a cat who tried to make off with one of his slippers.
The next morning, Chris calls room service to ask for some shampoo, because, naive bloke that he was, didn't bring any, thinking that a Sorong "hotel" would have some.
"Hello, Room Service?"
"Ya?"
"Can I have some shampoo?"
"Eh??"
"You know, shampoo, for the hair?"
"Eh???"
"Shampoo??? Soap??? Bubbles??? Shower?"
"Eh???"
The guy at the other end bangs the phone down, and while Chris is contemplating doing something drastic with the hotel front desk, he hears someone at the door.
It was the Room Service Guy, toothy smile on his face.
Chris went, "You have shampoo?"
Room Service Guy went, "Eh??"
Chris mimes shampooing his hair.
Light dawning, Room Service Guy breaks into a big grin and says, "Aaaaaah, shampoo!!!"
Chris, hopes buoyed, grins back and goes, "Yes, shampoo!!! You have???"
"No."
Deflated, unable to have his shower, Chris sets off downstairs for a spot of breakfast, only to find out there isn't any to be had, because the hotel cook only comes in after lunch. Muttering choice expletives now about being in Sorong, Chris decides to go around town, trying to find some breakfast, and shampoo. He finds a tiny convenience store selling some canned goods and toiletries, and after getting cans of corned beef, tuna, and pork and beans, as well as shampoo, tries to look for a can opener.
Nothing.
So he goes back to his hotel room, and calls the Room Service desk again.
"Hello?"
"You have a can opener?'
"Eh???"
This time Chris bangs the phone down, and pretty soon, there is another knock on his door. It's the Room Service Guy again.
Chris doesn't waste time. Holding up a can of tuna, he mimes opening it. Again, light dawns on Room Service Guy's face. Smartly turning on his heels, he rushes off to get a can opener. When he returns, he jauntily flourishes a wicker basket with something wrapped in a pristine white napkin. Chris takes it, shuts the door, and, happily anticipating breakfast, unwraps the cloth.
It was a chipped old knife the size of a small cleaver.
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22
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Militant Mayhem
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Jul 30, 2007 11:00 pm
1193 Views
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Reading Daniel Boorstin's The Creators, I came across this quote from Confucius, which resonated with me:
"What has one who is not able to govern himself to do with governing others?"
For some reason, it made me remember our erstwhile dictator, Ferdinand Marcos, and my days as a student activist.
I entered the university in 1984, when the whole country was caught in the midst of a political maelstrom after the assassination of the oppositionist senator, Benigno "Ninoy" Aquino, Jr. There I was, just turned 16, sheltered by my conservative Chinese upbringing, suddenly thrust into an environment, which, though predominantly Catholic, was not only far more open and liberal than anything I have ever come across, but simmered with righteous determination to pull a tyrant regime down. In that atmosphere of critical thinking, freed from rote learning, surrounded by those who encouraged me not only to stand for what I believed in but to fight for what was just, the activist in me came to light.
And yet, my most unforgettable experience was my very first incursion into the rallies which would mark the beginning of the end of the Marcos dictatorship. 1985, on Ninoy Aquino's second death anniversary, my classmates and I, newbies that we were to political marches and yet believing that 20 years of tyrannical rule was enough, set off for Malacanang Palace along with thousands of others, to call for Marcos to step down.
We had an "agit" or an agitator, who facilitated our particular group, and who was to call out slogans for us to chant. Giddy with anticipation, trying not to be anxious about the anti riot police we knew would be waiting for us, we set off, holding hands, and finally heard the agit call out, "TEN BY TEN!!!"
Wondering if this was some obscure reference to a political event, twits that we were, we began to chant lustily, "Ten by ten, ten by ten, ten by ten!"
Suddenly the agit started running back and forth, yelling at the top of his lungs, "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU SAYING??? I MEANT FORM YOURSELVES INTO RANKS OF TEN BY TEN, YOU MORONS!!!!"
Talk about an inconspicuous start---my baptism of fire did not come from being tear gassed (that came later) but from looking like an idiot.
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17
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When You Wish The Earth Would Just Swallow You---Part One
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Jul 29, 2007 8:36 am
1508 Views
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Overheard from a bathroom stall in a crowded ladies' room in a mall, with lines snaking back to Godknowswhere---
Mother: Are you done?
Little girl: Yes, Mama!
Mother: Ok, it's Mama's turn now, turn around, face the door and don't look, Mama has to pee, ok?
Little Girl: Yes, Mama!
Mother: I said don't turn around!! Don't look at me while I'm peeing!
Little Girl: Yes, Mama!
Mother: Don't turn around!!!!
Little Girl: MAMA, WHY DOES YOUR COOCHIE HAVE HAIR WHILE MINE DOESN'T????
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35
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There she is...
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Jul 28, 2007 9:02 am
1116 Views
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In 2006, hubby, lucky dog that he was, got to attend and be one of the judges for the pre-pageant night of the Binibining Pilipinas (Miss Philippines) contest, since our company was sponsoring one of the awards. The purpose of the pre-pageant night was to whittle down some 120 contestants to a more manageable 30, so off he went, quite happily, first dropping me off at a restaurant for my dinner date with my law partners.
I was barely starting my dessert when my cellphone rang. It was hubby.
"You have got to come over and help me," he said with a weary sigh. "I'm getting confused already. We've been looking at girls in bikinis for the past 2 hours and they're all beginning to look alike."
Hm, so it is possible to have too much of a good thing. Hubby was suffering from a serious case of boob daze. I gulped down my panna cotta and coffee and rushed over to where he was, before the poor man fainted from cleavage overexposure.
I was ushered into the judging hall and got there just in time to find hubby snickering into his score sheet, apparently over a contestant who was picked at random by one of the judges for an impromptu question and answer portion, just to determine how fast a contestant thought on her feet.
The question was quite simple enough--- "What would you like to be?"
The reply was quite unexpected--- "Well, I'm 18, and I want to be 19."
Dead silence. Paper shuffling. Judges trying not to look at each other. My hubby burying his head into his score sheet, in a valiant effort not to guffaw.
Finally all the contestants were made to stand in a circle around the stage, and the judges were encouraged to go near them to study them up close, to better narrow down the choices. I held the score sheet while hubby went off for some coffee. I noticed a disturbing pattern. Every time I went near any one of the contestants with my score sheet, she would thrust out her chest, strike a pose, and smile as brilliantly as possible. No wonder hubby got flummoxed.
But you know, I have to admire these women. It takes a lot of guts to be able to stand there for almost 45 minutes, in stiletto heels, wearing nothing but a bikini, with the airconditioning at full blast, while total strangers rated your every body part, and not lose your poise. To know that you were being judged (knees too dark---scratch her...not tall enough---scratch her...oh my gawd, look at those HIPS!--scratch her) and placed under such scrutiny that would put an auditing accountant to shame, yet still keep your calm, and keep smiling.
For all the calls to do away with beauty contests, I still can't help but marvel at the determination and confidence these young women showed. The one who finally won the crown that year worked for an international volunteer organization and spoke perfect French. Talk about beauty, brains, and social awareness.
And yes, she was on top of my list that pre-pageant night.
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13
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To link to this blog (MunchkinMatron2) use [blog MunchkinMatron2] in your messages.
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