Time to rebuild, perhaps

Things used to be a lot simpler back in the day. People met online in forum websites purely for discussions' sake. People logged in, made friends, networked, reached out to other friends.

Nowadays there just has to be the odd profiteering gesture thrown in. There just has to be the odd fragile ego that has to be crushed by nothing more than an honest remark. There just has to be the proverbial bad apple in the basket making life miserable for everybody else.

This is the year when I realized I've had my fill of that. Frankly I'm sick of it already. I'm not going to break away and make my own forum because let's face it, that's just going to lead to the very same thing I was complaining about.

Perhaps this is the long-overdue signal for me to get off my ass, stop it with the Internet and just look for a quiet hobby I can enjoy by myself without worrying about inflated egos and over-commercialization. It turns out I had one all along.

After a year of doing other things, I found myself going back to my work-in-progress, my MG Zeta Plus C1 model. I had planned on painting it with my own colors, but somehow I never got it done because I got discouraged by a few mistakes I had made with putty and painting. Funny enough it took a power outage for me to get back to doing it. I just ordered a new kit to replace my botched parts, while I continued putting Tamiya Fine Surface Primer L on the assembled parts.

So far here's what I have to show after 60% of the kit has had primer sprayed on.

Face-off: Heaven & Eggs vs. Conti's

In the green and yellow corner, we have Conti's. This is the pastry shop and restaurant famous for its long lines and cakes. It almost needs no introduction.

In the yellow and blue corner, we have Heaven & Eggs. Relatively soft-spoken compared to Conti's, its only recent claim to fame is its Michael Jackson-themed menu offerings - apart from that, they offer a menu festooned with pancakes, omelettes and various other viands.

How do these two very different establishments fare as restaurants? Mav and I decided to find out.

First we went to Conti's in Serendra. I decided to order their Fish and Chips with Honey Mustard Sauce, while Mav went for Grilled Pork Chops.

Fish and Chips with Honey Mustard Sauce

Grilled Pork Chops

Surprisingly we were very disappointed with both. The honey mustard was the definition of the slang term "weak sauce" - French's makes more flavorful stuff - while the fish used wasn't really suited for such a dish. The only saving graces were the expertly done fries. Mav didn't find the pork chops all that special either. They certainly weren't the kind of viands you'd come specifically to a restaurant for.

Next we went to Heaven & Eggs in Eastwood City. I wanted to try something different, so I got Thai Chicken and Vegetable Omelette, while Mav tried the best-selling Manila Spareribs.

Thai Chicken and Vegetable Omelette
(served with potato saute and a side order of pancakes)

Manila Spareribs

The omelette was wonderful. It had a rich taste, but all the herbs and flavors worked well together as one dish and complemented each other. Mav and I loved the side-order pancakes - they were milky sweet and smooth, good to go even without maple syrup. The spareribs were just as great. Succulent and cooked to near-perfection, the only way H&E could top these was to make the meat so tender that it falls off the bone. We walked out of the restaurant pleasantly surprised at how satisfied we were with their food.

Heaven & eggs doesn't seem to be an oxymoron after all. We have no idea who Conti is, but perhaps he or she should stick to making pastries and cakes and give the restaurant bit a rest.

Before it's too late

Control is an illusion, you infantile egomaniac. Nobody knows what's gonna happen next: not on a freeway, not in an airplane, not inside our own bodies and certainly not on a racetrack with 40 other infantile egomaniacs.

- Dr. Claire Lewicki, "Days of Thunder" (1990)

Where skewers and chopsticks meet

For this month Mav and I decided to try something different. I've always been curious about Nanbantei of Tokyo in Greenbelt 3. As might be obvious, this is a Japanese restaurant, but its fare isn't exactly your run-of-the-mill tempura and sushi fare. Instead, Nanbantei is a yakitori joint, the Japanese equivalent of the grillery.

Skewers of meat and vegetables are grilled by the cooks and served to you as they come, hot off the grill. We tried the "Bestsellers" variety platter and found the chicken negima especially appetizing. Most of them had asparagus skewered on them and that vegetable was a natural fit with yakitori. Everything was served with miso paste.

This is also where Mav and I finally tasted our very first yaki-onigiri, the grilled version of the famous Japanese rice ball wrapped in nori seaweed like a burger. It was as filling as it was delicious.

It was here that Mav also learned how to use chopsticks! She learned pretty quickly. All she needs is more practice handling the harder foods...such as rice.




All in all, a great date. Nanbantei's cuisine is a little salty but very delicious.

Six years later

I'm tired of:
- Bruised egos.
- Posers.
- People who can't follow rules.
- People who post nonsense.
- Bullies.
- People who have no taste whatsoever.
- Moneyed folk with more purchasing power than ability.
- Having to apologize for doing the right thing.

The long and short of it is this: I'm tired of car clubs.

I survived Ondoy and Pepeng

By now you've probably been inundated with the news of these two typhoons bringing a couple month's worth of rain in the span of six days. As a result so many places are flooded, in some cases without any hope of subsiding until Christmas at the earliest.

We were one of the lucky ones. Just down my block, people had their houses at least knee-deep in flood.

I won't add any more to this as most of its information is already available with a simple click of the mouse or a jab at the remote. If you got lucky, kindly help out in whichever way you can. There are lots of people that need it.

Flattery will get me singing...or vice versa

This Sunday morning I wasn't expecting anything out of the ordinary. In my head I knew that I just had to go to the usual 9am mass and sing, then go home afterward.

After the mass was done, Ate Edith pulled me aside and told me that someone wanted me to sing for her daughter's wedding.

It came as a complete surprise. I was really, really flattered, but a little embarrassed at the same time because I had no idea if I was good enough to sing for anybody's wedding day.

So we talked it over and I was supposed to sing Gary Valenciano's "How Did You Know" at the Mary the Queen Parish in Greenhills sometime in November. The mother, Lorna Cruz, sent me the song via Bluetooth so I could practice it.

I didn't know I had developed such a reputation just by singing at mass. Here I was, disillusioned with my job, trying to start out an unknown quantity as a wannabe automotive journalist, and yet I had overlooked one of the talents I was truly highly regarded for.

Color me thankful I guess.

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes

I love you Mav! Happy anniversary to us, and many more to come!

Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes,
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Moments so dear
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?

In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights
In cups of coffee
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife
In five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure a year in the life?

How about love? How about love?
How about love? Measure in love
Seasons of love
Seasons of love

Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Journeys to plan
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure the life
Of a woman or a man?

In truths that she learned
Or in times that he cried
In bridges he burned
Or the way that she died

It's time now to sing out
Tho' the story never ends
Let's celebrate
Remember a year in the life of friends

Remember the love (Oh you got to, got to)
Remember the love (Remember the love)
Seasons of love (Measure measure you life in love)
Seasons of love
Seasons of love

- The cast of "RENT," Seasons of Love

"You're like a bad dream gone wild!"

That was Mav explaining her love-hate relationship with Longchamp bags.

We were at Rustan's last Saturday night and she was trying to see the merit of owning the genuine article as opposed to a Greenhills knock-off. No merit in it, I think; it escapes both our minds why these bags are almost obscenely expensive. However Mav gets sleepless nights over these Longchamps.

When you're expected to pay PhP7,000 through the nose for a measly purse, and PhP34,000 through all bodily orifices for a decent-sized bag, you know there's definitely something wrong with the world.

Signs

The week before last, I met Pao, a fellow poster from JACU and JDMUnderground Philippines. He happened to work at the same building as I did. When I asked what kind of work he did, he said he was from the Human Resources department of Summit Media, publishers of "Top Gear Philippines."

Last Thursday, on my way to the grocery I walked into Botchi Santos, one of Top Gear Philippines' more popular writers from his "Wrong Car Right Car" section where each month he helps someone pick out the vehicle they like, with pros and cons. No doubt Botchi had come from the studios of the radio station Jam 88.3, as he hosts an hour-long radio segment there about cars.

On the way back to work, after buying oatmeal, I happened to share the elevator with a guy holding a contract for Summit Media. Curious guy that I am, I looked over and saw the usual details: performance evaluation, regularization policy, etc.

These are probably signs that I should move on from my present post. I feel like I've lost my groove here. Sure I'm a certified software test engineer but that hasn't really spelled the difference for me. I haven't had a bigger paycheck; heck I didn't even get promoted, and those that did were disappointed with their raises. Ever since I left Barclays I haven't been enjoying work either.

My dad was always egging me on since my latter days in college that I should try to work as a writer in the automotive industry, since that's what I really like. Lately I've taken his words seriously. You never know, perhaps my professional bliss resides just four floors down from my present location.

I don't know where to start though. My portfolio as a writer is pretty much zero for now, if you don't count my blog, my mecha reviews at MAHQ and the thousands of posts I've made on car forum websites. Mav was kind enough to do a little research for me and said Summit Media didn't have any writer openings for Top Gear Philippines. Maybe I should just get out and do my own writing for now, just to build up my credibility, until that opening arrives.

Fingers crossed.

Diligence?

It's officially a holiday today but because my office is part of the BPO and Electronics segment, we're exempt from it. My lead was so diligent in letting me know over the weekend that yes there's work on Monday. So, scuppered long weekend plans and all, I did the morning bit, drove Aibo to work, and arrived at 7:45 am.

As of this writing I've been rotting in my seat for two and a half hours with nothing to do. Something's definitely wrong somewhere when your lead and all of your teammates are still not in when almost everybody else is, when there should be no traffic to worry about.

Hrmpf.

FM is the new AM

I find that I'm listening to more radio nowadays.

I've been alternating between the old favorite Magic 89.9 and the relatively new kid on the block, Jam 88.3.

Magic in particular has prided itself on becoming a radio station known more for its DJs than its music, which frankly lacks variety and gets tedious to listen to. The thing is you won't listen to Magic for the music. I was too engrossed with Grace Lee and Mo Twister's morning discussions on "Good Times" and the pranks of the guys of "Boys' Night Out" to care. While they do have an artificial impetus going for listeners to stay tuned, especially in the case of "Good Times" where they give out huge moolah for remembering the minutiae of their shows for the week, Magic definitely has a working formula going.

On the times that I do want to listen to music, I switch to Jam. This station comes across as a breath of fresh air in a landscape choked with pop-rock garbage. Jam has heavily invested in becoming "an alternative to alternative," deviating slightly from the tired formula of pop-rock to bring audiences fresh new music by acts like Death Cab for Cutie, Sister Hazel, Red Jumpsuit Apparatus and Kings of Convenience. If my friend Gerald were to pick a radio station to follow, I'd bet Jam would be his pick. While Jam also offers discussions by the DJs, it's the music that sells it to me.

If both stations aren't broadcasting stuff I like listening to...there's always my CD and digital music collection to fall back on.

Lazy daisy

One of the things the package from Uncle Butch and Auntie Carole had inside it, aside from the usual clothes and foodstuffs, was JB's old PlayStation 2. It had been a while since my beloved PS1 (itself a hand-me-down from Tita Hedwig) bit the dust, and I was getting by using emulation to play my old PS1 favorites.

It's funny how late I am with the console gaming industry party nowadays. Two years since the PS3 came out, I just got my own PS2. Not that I'm complaining. I'd rather have a PS2 than an overheating XBox 360 or a PS3 starved of good games.

Seeing how late I obtained the PS2 I was concerned about getting games for it. I don't mind paying for the legit thing now, but if the games are too hard to find that's it for me right there. Surprisingly, DataBlitz's more popular branches have a healthy catalog of genuine PS2 games. I got Metal Gear Solid: The Essential Collection, and pretty soon I'll be getting Gran Turismo 4 and the Devil May Cry box set.

Suddenly I've rediscovered lazy Saturday afternoons.

Take me back!

On my final month with my current client I am beginning to miss working for Barclays.

Work has been in shambles lately, with overzealous, arrogant developers biting off more than they can chew, a process that's frankly worthless, test data so fragile it breaks down with one ill-advised action, and test scripts that are too damn long for their own good.

I'm not saying Barclays was without problems, but we were vastly better equipped to handle and avoid the shenanigans we're experiencing now.

According to friends I know, there's a chance Barclays might take us in again. Personally I'd jump at the chance if it meant returning to Internet Channels.

So far July has been a month to forget.

Why do I have to fly

over every town up and down the line?

I'll die in the clouds above

and you that I defend, I do not love.

I wake up, it's a bad dream,

No one on my side,

I was fighting

But I just feel too tired

to be fighting,

guess I'm not the fighting kind.

Where will I meet my fate?

Baby I'm a man, I was born to hate.

And when will I meet my end?

In a better time you could be my friend.

I wake up, it's a bad dream,

No one on my side,

I was fighting

But I just feel too tired

to be fighting,

guess I'm not the fighting kind.

Wouldn't mind it

if you were by my side

But you're long gone,

yeah you're long gone now.

Where do we go?

I don't even know,

My strange old face,

And I'm thinking about those days,

And I'm thinking about those days.

I wake up, it's a bad dream,

No one on my side,

I was fighting

But I just feel too tired

to be fighting,

guess I'm not the fighting kind.

Wouldn't mind it

if you were by my side

But you're long gone,

yeah you're long gone now...

- Keane, "A Bad Dream"

===

If only more of my numerous bad days ended this way.

Celebrity and fame killed Michael Jackson

As a kid growing up in the 1980s, I idolized Michael Jackson. So much so that instead of being called by my real name I wanted people calling me "Michael" or "Mike" --- although my dad also supposedly named me after the Rolling Stones' Mick Jagger too, how true that is I don't really know. At four years old I used to dance with uncoordinated energy to his song "Bad." I used to think he could do no wrong, apart from that weird dance step of his that involves holding his crotch.

Then things started changing. He eventually became so far removed from the guy I used to look up to. It eventually became all about what misadventure he would get himself into next, no longer about his music --- which never really lost its luster as it still resonated with a sizable audience around the world. It's just that people found a new reason to watch Wacko Jacko's every move, and it was no longer constructive.

When documentaries aired in 2001 trying to explain Jackson's side, I found myself wanting to believe him. I wanted to believe that he and his siblings had been abused as a kid, that the fame-at-all-costs attitude of his dad robbed him of the chance to learn to live a normal childhood. But people kept pushing and insisting he was a weirdo to be feared. They insisted that apart from his extravagant stage persona and performances, he was good for nothing but an existence in a glass cage so all his strange behaviors could be seen for all the world to laugh at.

In the end, celebrity and fame snuffed out his life.

Shockingly I had already seen in the movie Music and Lyrics how a teenaged pop singing sensation (fictional as she may be) could have her humanity destroyed by fame at an early age, never to regain it. I am 100% sure that that was what happened to Michael Jackson.

As a teenager I used to aspire to become famous. Now I probably know better. The price of fame is just too high.

White noise

As a writer, my one greatest weakness is that I suffer from the potential of giving people what Mao used to call "logorrhea." It's like loose bowel movement but with words instead of feces.

I am so jealous of people - songwriters, lyricists and poets, for instance - who can drive home their loaded point with the sparest of verses. Perhaps I'm more jealous of songwriters as I hardly read poetry anyway. It's amazing how the songs with the best and deepest emotional connections to our hearts are those that have the simplest lyrics paired with the most appropriate melody.

Other people have told me my talent is in explanation. Sometimes I get sick of it. As a speaker I am proud of it, but as a writer, there's no challenge in explaining things as best as I could in black and white. If I were a novel --- and I say this because there's no way I can be a song or poem ---I'd barely have turned any of my pages; if I were a magazine I'd barely have sold because I don't have a good angle.

Keane. Sugarfree. Vienna Teng. I envy them all, their profound lingual grasp of "less is more," their letting the music speak.

Arthur Golden. Bill Dare. Banana Yoshimoto. I envy them all, their grasp of "KISS" - keep it simple, stupid.

Maybe I have no mystique left to me because I'm all explained out. I'm all white noise, there but not there.

Look it up

Over the past few months I've become genuinely surprised, frustrated and annoyed at how lazy people have become searching the wealth of information the Internet has. Here we are, swimming in a veritable ocean of information, and yet people still keep asking the same dumb questions - persistently.

Worse, people are becoming gullible and believing all these myths circulated by email, forums and whatnot. They don't even realize that a lot of these said myths have already been tested and debunked.

I have to wonder: Am I the only one nowadays who can appreciate the value of "looking it up?" As a kid I was brought up by my dad to find the answers to my own questions. Back then I criticized him for taking what I thought was the easy way out of my nagging, but now I realize he was actually teaching me a very valuable lesson.

So those of you out there reading this: Before you nag other people with questions about what you don't know, let your fingers do some work for you. How hard is it to go to a search engine, type in a string of words into a one-line text field, and hit the Enter key afterward? You will not believe how much "work" people think you put in when you simply show them the results of your Internet search.

Lord Kamina goes on a CD-shopping spree

It's been a while since any anime got me this excited and pumped up.

Animax started airing GAINAX's Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann last month and I've been following it with fervor. As a Gundam fan I usually like my mecha anime cut from the "real robot" mold, but Gurren Lagann is undoubtedly an homage to the "super robot" anime of the 196os and 1970s, complete with impossible feats, ridiculous weapons and hot-blooded pilots shouting the names of their attacks before they do them.

2007's Gurren Lagann is notably the polar opposite of GAINAX's other, more popular opus, 1995's Neon Genesis Evangelion. That production was ultimately cold, depressing and apocalyptic - even director Hideaki Anno admitted that the production of Evangelion was part of his therapy. However, its flawed characters and their hang-ups, especially protagonist Shinji Ikari, resonated worldwide and catapulted it to mecha anime nirvana.

Gurren Lagann is different and more in keeping with GAINAX's earlier work, 1988's Aim for the Top! Gunbuster, with less women and hard sci-fi concepts. The titular robot runs on nothing but emotion and willpower, for crying out loud, and can sprout drills out of every part of its body - just witness the "Giga Drill Maximum" attack. Its charismatic chest-beating leader Kamina is no exception, sporting outrageous glasses, spouting epic quotes and barking his signature line "Who the heck do you think I am?!" The show runs deeper than the simplistic rock-and-roll introduction however, as there are three arcs to the 27-episode series that all bring with them their own overriding emotion. All of them are animated with the kind of visuals that would frankly look more at home in a movie than a TV anime, such is their quality and polish.

Mark my words: This feel-good series will be a mecha anime classic someday.
===

After a long spell of buying other things, I got around to expanding my music collection again. It's been months since I bought any CDs. This time I pulled out all the stops: I bought all the CDs I promised myself to buy on a Post-it note sometime last year. I went and bought CDs from Keane, Hoobastank, Death Cab for Cutie and Snow Patrol.

That's probably the most number of CDs I've bought in a trip to Music One. These should tide me over for a few more months...

Just when I was about to give up on car club forums...

...I get good "karma" from people who appreciate what I do.

After becoming a virtual persona non grata on a certain car club for speaking out what I believe, I had gotten disillusioned with car club forum websites and the airheads that reside in them. I'm glad I didn't give up on them entirely. Apparently FitFreak.net's members know how to recognize goodwill and good advice.

Maybe there's some point to me doing the Mr. Miyagi thing this long. As long as I can help, I'll do so.