tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12735362543318209392009-11-13T23:57:12.789+08:00brokering a truce with lifeAngelihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08617309759372512870noreply@blogger.comBlogger597125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273536254331820939.post-38750748234142386282009-11-11T17:39:00.001+08:002009-11-11T17:41:54.032+08:00

How do you tell a guy who calls you in the middle of the night from some island in the Pacific to move on with his life? If a simple stop calling me does not do it, what will? If after almost three years and he still cannot comprehend that he is out of your life for good, there’s really no point in making him understand, is there?

Angelihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08617309759372512870noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273536254331820939.post-17846905309749839092009-11-09T19:00:00.005+08:002009-11-09T19:33:39.444+08:00

Come February, my friends and I are planning to spend the weekend of Valentine at the beach. The plane tickets and hotel accommodations have all been taken care of. The only thing missing are the picture-perfect, flab-free bodies that would go well with the sun and the pearly white sand of Boracay. The pressure is on. We all need to lose weight. Hell-bent on getting me those washboard abs, I

Angelihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08617309759372512870noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273536254331820939.post-82376008625305996452009-11-06T17:25:00.005+08:002009-11-06T17:45:49.779+08:00

My unruly hair has been stressing me out for the past several days. Chopping it all off felt really good.

Angelihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08617309759372512870noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273536254331820939.post-64693382049760825382009-11-04T10:08:00.006+08:002009-11-04T10:23:50.458+08:00

I got this from WitsandNuts.Simple rule: using only song names from one artist, cleverly answer these questions. Pass it on to 20 people. Try not to repeat a song title. It’s actually a lot harder than you think.Pick your artist: THE BEATLES1. Are you male or female? Woman2. Describe yourself: Devil in Her Heart3. Describe your significant other: A Taste of Honey4. How do you feel about yourself?

Angelihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08617309759372512870noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273536254331820939.post-15204952070934920192009-11-03T11:28:00.002+08:002009-11-03T13:22:24.838+08:00

It felt great to be away from the computer for several days. During those days I had no idea what was happening ‘out there’, but it didn’t feel like I was missing anything. I was so happy in the company of my family that I didn’t really care. Away from the unrelenting cacophony of the online world—the tumult of status updates and live feeds and the overwhelming pull of endless messages, blogs and

Angelihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08617309759372512870noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273536254331820939.post-45925213162037876552009-10-29T12:59:00.002+08:002009-10-29T13:04:49.991+08:00

It’s all fine to say, “Time will heal everything, this too shall pass away. People will forget”—and things like that when you are not involved, but when you are there is no passage of time, people do not forget and you are in the middle of something that does not change.~ John Steinbeck, Cannery Row, 1935

Angelihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08617309759372512870noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273536254331820939.post-69378727200081169522009-10-27T10:48:00.006+08:002009-10-27T13:06:42.697+08:00

They say that a woman’s handbag not only contains the items that are essential to her on a daily basis but also tells a lot about her - her quirks, her disposition, her priorities in life. Here’s what’s inside mine: a couple of spiral notebooks, a pen, an umbrella, sunglasses, a paperback, a handkerchief, lipstick, my house keys, iPod, a USB flash drive, and my company ID card – things that I can

Angelihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08617309759372512870noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273536254331820939.post-77996194418012114502009-10-25T17:48:00.001+08:002009-10-25T19:39:55.158+08:00

“It has always seemed strange to me,” said Doc. “The things we admire in men, kindness and generosity, openness, honesty, understanding and feeling are the concomitants of failure in our system. And those traits we detest, sharpness, greed, acquisitiveness, meanness, egotism and self-interest are the traits of success. And while men love the quality of the first they love the produce of the

Angelihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08617309759372512870noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273536254331820939.post-34921640633299321062009-10-22T15:48:00.006+08:002009-10-22T20:00:09.395+08:00

I've been tasked to develop an evaluation tool for one our products, a classroom management software. As I tried to understand how its features work, I realized how different classes are managed nowadays compared to the way it was before. When I was in grade school the piercing look of the teacher would have frozen us to attention; now it takes a computer software to remove distractions and

Angelihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08617309759372512870noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273536254331820939.post-69890483969809060722009-10-20T11:10:00.001+08:002009-10-20T11:25:39.070+08:00

As the weather cools toward the end of the year, I find myself waking up refreshed and invigorated. A typical morning for me involves getting up at half past six in the morning to the sound of my cell phone’s alarm and immediately turning on the computer to check my email and my friends’ status updates on Facebook; then I prepare a quick breakfast, which I eat while chatting with D if he’s not

Angelihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08617309759372512870noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273536254331820939.post-18239553418336844282009-10-16T16:50:00.004+08:002009-10-16T20:48:20.021+08:00

Last night as I was staring at my face in the mirror I noticed the unsightly pockmarks, the faint lines around my mouth and the dark smudges under my eyes that no amount of makeup can conceal. Surprisingly, it did not freak me out as it would have a few years back. I just shrugged it off as an inescapable part of life and went to sleep. They say that maturity is delayed gratification. I see it as

Angelihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08617309759372512870noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273536254331820939.post-28937982265025819722009-10-14T21:17:00.004+08:002009-10-14T21:30:43.203+08:00

...The hand of Fate had snatched all their souls; and by the stirring perils of the previous day; the rack of the past night's suspense; the fixed, unfearing, blind, reckless way in which their wild craft went plunging towards its flying mark; by all these things, their hearts were bowled along. The wind that made great bellies of their sails, and rushed the vessel on by arms invisible as

Angelihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08617309759372512870noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273536254331820939.post-23245983716922886602009-10-13T09:38:00.000+08:002009-10-13T09:39:13.475+08:00

The ineffable tragedies that had recently struck countless people’s lives have rendered me speechless, too ashamed to write about the trivialities of my own little world. How inconsequential my daily crises, my petty troubles are compared to theirs. There is no reason to pick at scabs when there are thousands out there with gaping wounds.

Angelihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08617309759372512870noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273536254331820939.post-79357233235644297112009-10-07T17:13:00.002+08:002009-10-07T17:16:44.076+08:00

One would think that credit cards and the Internet make it easier to book a tour. In our case, they don’t.We are trying to book a package tour with the travel agency, The Sinh Tourist (formerly known as Sinh Café) located in Ho Chi Minh City, but they don’t take credit cards. They require the entire amount to be wired to them, which, to me, is a bit risky. The tour is supposed to cover parts of

Angelihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08617309759372512870noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273536254331820939.post-38333125300689335692009-10-06T14:28:00.000+08:002009-10-06T14:29:11.505+08:00

Hunched over my desk against the inaudible hum of workaday existence—supposedly reviewing modules while actually staring at our itinerary and imagining what fun we’d have in those places--I felt that delicious sensation of excitement diffuse through me. Glancing every now and then at the calendar, I—though acutely certain of its impossibility--willed the days to move a little bit faster.In less

Angelihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08617309759372512870noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273536254331820939.post-69638314718487102572009-10-02T13:20:00.000+08:002009-10-02T13:21:48.417+08:00

Act of God. It is such a curious term, isn’t it? It’s been mentioned a lot these past few days as certain parts of the world continue to suffer from the onslaught of natural disasters. Defined by the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, an act of God is “an extraordinary interruption by a natural cause (as a flood or earthquake) of the usual course of events that experience, prescience or care cannot

Angelihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08617309759372512870noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273536254331820939.post-21215275382649420042009-10-01T00:01:00.000+08:002009-10-01T00:01:00.486+08:00

OctoberBy Robert FrostO hushed October morning mild,Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;To-morrow's wind, if it be wild,Should waste them all.The crows above the forest call;To-morrow they may form and go.O hushed October morning mild,Begin the hours of this day slow,Make the day seem to us less brief.Hearts not averse to being beguiled,Beguile us in the way you know;Release one leaf at break of

Angelihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08617309759372512870noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273536254331820939.post-10357923800209770862009-09-29T08:57:00.002+08:002009-09-29T09:00:24.545+08:00

There, then, he sat, holding up that imbecile candle in the heart of that almighty forlornness. There, then, he sat, the sign and symbol of a man without faith, hopelessly holding up hope in the midst of despair.- Herman Melville, Moby Dick, 1851

Angelihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08617309759372512870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273536254331820939.post-50875785286631384782009-09-28T11:54:00.001+08:002009-09-28T19:07:08.157+08:00

What happened last weekend was truly horrifying; but what horrifies me more is the proliferation of self-righteous status updates, posts and tweets on the Internet. This is not really a good time for finger-pointing and moralizing, is it? Nobody deserved what happened, but, sadly, all of us are at fault.

Angelihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08617309759372512870noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273536254331820939.post-29441480099039764072009-09-25T14:55:00.000+08:002009-09-25T14:56:59.521+08:00

I wonder how some people could move from devouring passion to cold indifference in just the blink of an eye. They are so into you one moment then treat you like a stranger the next. They lavish you with attention then suddenly forget that you exist. Is this the key to easily get over a person?

Angelihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08617309759372512870noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273536254331820939.post-17186626156429729152009-09-24T07:14:00.000+08:002009-09-28T15:18:05.999+08:00

This reminds me so much of myself:The apartment was entirely, was only, for her: a wall of books, both read and unread, all of them dear to her not only in themselves, their tender spines, but in the moments or periods they evoked. She had kept some books since college that she acquired for courses but never read--Friedrich Jameson, for example, and Kant's Critique of Judgment--but which

Angelihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08617309759372512870noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273536254331820939.post-82784142904987508132009-09-23T17:56:00.004+08:002009-09-24T21:53:43.685+08:00

To indulge my curiosity, I began a presumptuous inquiry on how people around me--friends, family and colleagues--perceive one of the country’s presidential aspirants, Senator Noynoy Aquino, the one person who supposedly could bring renewed hope for the nation. I asked whether or not they would vote for him and why. Surprisingly, most said that they won’t for various reasons: his mediocre

Angelihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08617309759372512870noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273536254331820939.post-71110217255597941782009-09-23T07:04:00.008+08:002009-09-24T23:02:31.554+08:00

Does overwhelming change, the annihilation of all you know, create an intensity of memory that would not have existed otherwise? When all you know is lost and gone forever, does it become sweeter in the mind? Does it make you want to let go or hold on even tighter?- Charles Frazier, Thirteen Moons, 2006

Angelihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08617309759372512870noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273536254331820939.post-66158575779117801882009-09-22T14:36:00.003+08:002009-09-24T22:04:18.888+08:00

The lusty wind blasting from the bus's windows, which stung her eyes and whipped her hair to disarray, carried the salty tang of the bay. Inhaling softly, she welcomed the sting, the stink and the disarray. This is what life is all about, she told herself. As the bus plodded along the congested highway--stopping every few minutes to allow passengers in and out—she realized that the entire trip

Angelihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08617309759372512870noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1273536254331820939.post-78686705959731139112009-09-16T07:45:00.005+08:002009-09-24T22:21:42.349+08:00

By reason of these things, then, the whaling voyage was welcome; the great flood-gates of the wonder-world swung open, and in the wild conceits that swayed me to my purpose, two and tow there flooded into my inmost soul, endless processions of the whale, and mid most of them all, one grand hooded phantom, like snow hill in the air.- Herman Melville, Moby-Dick, 1851

Angelihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08617309759372512870noreply@blogger.com2