Month: February 2007

This is why I hate people who don’t think

Overheard in the office canteen:
(A mother-to-be lunching with her coworkers)

Guy with buckteeth: Mummy, kabalo na ka unsa imo baby pagguwas? [Mommy, do you already know the sex of your baby when it comes out?]

Preggy woman: Wala pa baya. [Not yet.]

Girl in pink blouse with newly-rebonded hair: Unsa kaha ug bayot? [What if it’s gay?]

(They laughed.)

Girl in black blouse with smudged eyeliner: Ok ra dagway bayot oi. Luod kayo ug tomboy. [It may be ok if it’s gay. It would be gross if it’s a lesbian.]

Preggy woman: (between chews) Bitaw, ug bayot, daghan talent. Makakwarta ta. Hahahahaha. [Yeah, if gay, it’ll have lots of talent. I’ll have money with it. Hahahahaha.]

(They all laughed. Guy with buckteeth choked on his fish escabeche.)

I pity the unborn bayot.

[Use of ‘it‘ to refer to the baby is intentional to match the tone of conversation.]

Tata’s predicament

Tata sprained his foot after Valentine’s day.

He was going downhill on his motorcycle when saw someone he knew off a distance. Friendly person that he is, he tried to hail his friend. It would have been fine if a lanzones sapling wasn’t growing a little too close to the middle of the pathway where Ta was driving. It was a bit too late for him to avoid the sapling yet he still managed to swerve and avoid ending the young tree’s life. However, the young tree’s parent was close by and a tall person that Ta is, his knee jutted out when he made the sharp swerve. His knee violently kissed the parent tree’s trunk. He lost control of the motorcycle in that hilly bit of path, and he must have seen stars when his attempt to stop the skidding bike with his foot was thwarted by the success of a renegade root’s wicked scheme to trip him, resulting in my man’s genuflection on the dry earth. That his tendons snapped must have gone unnoticed in the commotion when his friend burst through the bushes and tried to help Ta up, who has kissed the ground after the initial genuflect.

A hilot has eased some of the throbbing pain of his swollen foot. And Ta has to rest for a while. He is not used to being immobile for long periods. He always has work to do and he is very put out with his present situation and kept on apologizing. I told him it may be that his body is telling him that he needs to take things slowly for now.

Presently, he is home-bound and hobbles to get from Point A to Point B. He frets about his immobile state but can’t do anything about it. He winces, frowns, stares at the TV, winces, frowns, checks if the swelling of his foot has gone down, looks out into the garden, winces, frowns, checks…

This morning, he asked for some needle, durable thread and scraps of cloth. Before I left for some overtime work in the office I saw him cutting out some shapes from the scraps of cloth I gave him. I kissed him bye and wished him luck with his arts and craft project. He gave me a wry smile.

Pictures courtesy of Bata and Saloon Ghost Tour

A day in the life of a data specialist, AKA Copyeditor

It used to be
That a dash is a dash
No matter in between what words it is squashed
And verbs act as descriptions
Of how things are done
Whether picking roses
Or picking noses
It didn’t matter who’s doing what
Or how many are there doing that
But that was how it was in the past
For now
It’s minding p’s and q’s
And seeing that i’s have dots
If that is how it must be so
As the author wants it
As the publisher wants it
So service with a smile
Leave creative writing a while
It’s not gonna work
Grammatically correct
Essential, essential
Dots after sentences
Syntax, parallels
And technical jargons
Strung in a wire

Lousy poetry

Benumbed dura mater
Come make sense
Do not falter
Cost of living
And lifestyle support
Hang in the balance
Of thy proper functioning

What must you need?
Megadosing of ascorbates don’t help
Nor fish oil nor food supplements
Boasting capabilities
Just short of raising Lazarus
They’re all candy-coated baby aspirins

Frustration’s nearly reached boiling point
Must I rant like so?
Must I tear my hair out like so?
Must I run out screaming bloody murder?
Must I cry?
Must I go?
Must I stay?

Enlighten me, dura mater
Do not turn unconscious
Or lapse into comatose
We’re in this together
Benumbed both we are
We dream of easy heavens
And balmy beaches
Guiltless riches
So stay there, dura mater
Stay awake
Alive
…though barely
Just stay

Of the template 2

So it’s blue for today. The green didn’t last a week.

Movie that won’t come unglued from my mind: Blue Crush.

It must be the scorching heat outside but I keep wondering when I could spend an entire day submerged neck-deep in cool waters. Blue Crush in my mind today seems to be the most appropriate symbol for the approaching summer.

I’m just letting my mind wander a bit before I put my nose in the grinder again. Tara noticed and started teasing.

Note to self: immediately grab opportunity for a swim if it comes in the next few days… always keep spare undies ready.

Of the template

I did say that I like black most. Yet, I am presently experimenting on colors appropriate for the season.

I’ll try green for now, see how long this color will fare with my ever-changing preference. But let it be known that I still prefer the black template for my blog.

Thank you…

I am presently encountering a backlash from the Universe — or from forces of nature. I have not appropriately acknowledged the graces I received last week and now the Universe is teaching me not to take things for granted and to be aware of the blessings — whethere these are big, Wow-able things or simple ones that can brighten up one’s dreary day.

Wish am not yet too late in saying Thank you for

– the sachets of peppermit tea from Lurchie
– the nice conversations with Tara that lift me from the humdrum of each workday
– the smile of friends
– the embrace of loved ones
– Tata’s continuous work in landscaping and beautifying our home
– the pets that make me smile with their antics
– the Black Sambo [Tara’s treat] I had for dessert this dinnertime
– the new digicam from Tita Bing
– the courier duties of my mother so the digicam could reach me
– the posts in other blogs describing other people’s lives
– the Internet access in this office, which gives a welcome break before my mind gets so fried
– the Sun shining out
– the small surprises each day of the week brings, which are intended to make me appreciate life all the more
– the previous weekend’s respite from the workload…

Archived

I’ve hit a motherlode while touring the net…

Some of my old posts were displayed at Technorati when I [narcissitically, of course] searched for brokencoffee. I decided to disregard my ranking.

Also, instead of reposting those days-old compositions, I decided not to.

Because, and I am blushing as I write this, those were mostly rants. I have decided to do away with so much negativity and focus on what is beautiful in each day instead .

Stumbling across my previous posts was really an eye-opener. I’m embarassed that it seems that all i ever do is complain how the world’s victimizing me. And yet, I have not been proactive in making things better.

No, I haven’t hit my head or anything. It’s just that, the world does not owe me anything. As it is, I am the freeloader.

To be alive as each sunrise bursts forth from the horizon is already a great gift.

I am learning to be content.

A Quest


A stretch of gold unfolds before my eyes each time I start my workday. The wind feels coarse against my skin as the westerly breeze blows through where I sit tinkering with the laptop. I squint every once in a while as the Sun adjusts his position in the periwinkle sky overhead. Sometimes, I have to shift my desk’s position so as not to be scorched by the rays from the heavenly body. The palm trees provide enough shade throughout the entire afternoon I’m out here — I only need to move every four hours to stay within shadows, allowing me to stretch my numbed limbs.

The muffled rustle of sand is a familiar sound which accompanies my regular work day. I don’t even mind the hum of the backup generator anymore — I used to when I came here three months ago. There are so many things I got used to over that span of time. The dromedaries grunting in their watering hole nearby. The sight of turbaned men and veiled women walking in a manner that is both stately and mysterious provides an interesting foreground for the golden desert stretching miles and miles into the far off horizon. The sharp scent of spices brought over from far off towns and cities is a soothing contrast to the dry, scorched smell of the desert.

My work does not go smoothly at times, especially if the funding entities for the excavation project get testy over the delayed reports. Or we have a hard time gaining access into the caverns because of ancient cave-ins and equipment have to be ordered from another country. Customs have embargoed more than a handful of precious project equipment since day 1 of the project. But I guess everything is worth it, in the end. We are unearthing another part of the tapestry of our rich human history. When everything here is uncovered, humanity will be nearer to an anwer to the age-old question: “What does it mean to live in this earth, as part of this universe?”

Reality bites
~Sigh. If only….
Ah well, I’m slacking off again, obviously. Back to work, which is done in an enclosure with artificial air and no sunlight. The above dreamscape comprises what my ideal day at work is. Take note, there’s no airconditioning.

Inciendo

Excuse me for a moment while I gripe. I HATE IT WHEN PEOPLE JUST BORROW MY STUFF AND THEN INDISCRIMINATELY LEND THESE TO
OTHERS!!!! GRRRR!!!

i’m territorial. i zealously guard my space and my reactions to the “outside” world. i take care not to tread on other people’s space and in cases when i borrow from others, i see to it that the stuff is under heavy guard, with ME passes only.

i had thought that others would reciprocate. but hey, i’ve discovered some of my stuff [books] floating around like detritus from a ship wreck out in the vast Karagatang Pacifico. And like a deranged environmentalist counting the ecological repercussions of the mess, I am seeing red.

I hate confrontations. So I’m taking my anger out in here.

Anyway, the people responsible for my incendiary mood do not read blogs.

They probably should.

[steam comes out from nostrils, eyes begin flashing death rays]

picture courtesy of bugdown through deviant art

Breakdown

Tara shared a bit of wisdom last night.
Your heart isn’t in it anymore.

She noticed I had a bad run of articles last night. Somehow, she struck a cord of truth in my tangled web of sanity.

It took almost all my groundwater reservoir of patience to prevent myself from lashing out at the computer monitor. And I wouldn’t have stopped there but would have proceeded to tear the manuscript I had to microscopic bits.

Upon further reflection, the misery might be an aftereffect of being a part of the clean-up crew for the furshlinger QA reports every month. ~Haah~

It isn’t one of the person who did the file’s fault. It was the @#!!!$%### tool’s usual bumbling efficiency that nearly caused me to lose whatever professionalism I was able to shore myself up with in the sweatshop for over a year.

Yeah, Tara was right. My heart isn’t in it anymore. I long for carefree days out of white-walled enclosures, breathing in fresh mountain or sea air instead of the reconditioned artificial atmosphere in the office.

Yeah, I’m tired. Really, really tired.

Tate and I had a bet. He lost because he predicted that I’d get tired of this job after a week. But if he didn’t stipulate any time-frame, I guess he would’ve won.

I agree with Tara.