Yes. I feel a lot less heavier load now that I'm not a student again, now that I'm back to being a corporate working-boy, I'm back to normal. Aren't I?

For those who didn't know, I was gone all of last week, hidden from the outside world for 8 hours a day, to undergo a company-sponsored training. Down and dirty with the basics of POSIX programming. I was excited the first few hours of each day, as I've always wanted to go back to school again. I was to pretend I was back in school, all nerdy and dorky again :D

The subject sure helped, because it was a nerdy and dorky subject. Not that I loved it. It has been a looooong time since I learned anything useful (in my line of work, I mean). The training was basic and technical, visually unappealing, (just look at the machines we used. Fossils.) and dangerously sleep-inducing. Despite all that, I was actually enthusiastic and attentive.

5 days and 19 modules later, me and my fellow classmates had passed the course. I was actually eager to get to work so I could try some of the stuff that I learned in class. Now, after a whole business day, I have yet to try any of that stuff. It's been an unusually busy Monday. Probably because the Americans are all trying to stuff all their business slated for the week down a small drainpipe into all our servers in time for the Thanksgiving holidays. By then they'll be enjoying turkey, and I'll be sitting in my office chair drinking C2 till 6 in the morning. The joys of outsourcing.

I think I killed a little bit more brain cells than usual, trying to force what I learned in training straight to my job, to the point that I was already straining my eyes, trying to will myself to write a fancy script combo where a simple 'grep' command would do. Ah well, they pay us to innovate, nothing lost on my end, really. Just the brain cells. Sayang. I could have just killed them the traditional way -- beer. Video games. South park episodes.

Or I could just have someone mention Cueshe, and my left brain will immediately collapse.

Brrrr.

While I was sitting down in front of my PC listening to the new Itchyworms album (which is lukewarm in some spots, btw) at the same time trying to think of anything interesting to write about on here, Nat2x tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to the music video on TV.

It was Cueshe.

Thank God for the power of logic and common sense, else I would have strangled Nat2x that instant, because I realized he was messing with me almost too late.

So as a warning of sorts, please please PLEASE do not ever mention this band's name ever again. Have mercy on the human race, or more t the immediate people within my arm's reach.

I guess I've made it obvious enough that I f-u-c-k-i-n-g HATE this band. And if you are a real music fan, you would not need an explanation why. Actually, this already borders beyond hate. This is unhealthy. This is unnecessary. This is stupid.

Though I realize all this is true, my sense still overload everytime I hear their songs or their names mentioned. They who steal songs and rip off other famous and RECENT artists. They who epitomize the biggest reason behind the sad state of this country, driven deeper into this anarchic shithole because of corruption. They who... they who... okay, that's enough. I've ranted more than they deserve. I'm accusing too blatantly and making you uncomfortable, aren't I?

One of the reasons why I love music is that each song and melody identifies a unique personality, state of mind, emotion, or thought. A musician taps into any of these areas to come up with a combination of notes to convey how he feels. Music is personal, and when shared, is a different experience to each person who hears, and is thus reaches out to the person listening and becomes his own personal experience. Thus we appreciate our musical artists, because they amplify our feelings and stir our thought.

But when one copies another's work for mass-production, he is showing the highest form of disrespect to the original composer, but also slapping the consumer on the face and calling him stupid.

I write songs myself, and the reason a majority of the songs I write I do not go ahead and publish or complete is because they sound like many of the songs I have heard. Perhaps out of a 100, I barely completely finish 10 songs. I find it more gratifying to finish a song fueled by hard work and inspiration.

Are there not enough melodies in the world? Who knows, 100 years from now we'd be at packed arenas listening to some guy blow air through a straw, and we'd be screaming our lungs out and women would have his babies because of his musical talent. Who knows if traffic hustle and bustle becomes the most requested tunes on the radio. Who's gonna get us to enjoy that stuff we consider garbage now? The innovators. The ones who start a new movement. The ones who pursue their Personal Legends. Bands like Pedicab, who have started the Dance Funk alternative, otherwise known as Dunk. Those who play music for the love of it. Not for the fame and fortune that success might bring.

I hope I don't get sued for this.

I just wanted so say thank you to all people who remembered me on my birthday, and also those who remembered me just now, and for those who will remember me tomorrow or a few days from now, there's still hope for you. I'm still currently accepting gifts till before Christmas. Late compliments and greetings will still be noted and replied with the obligatory thank you. =)

Seriously, I am in such a thankful mood. I had a genuinely happy birthday, and I was especially happy receiving all the notes and messages from my friends and family and co-workers. I have not felt this kind of gratitude flowing through me, and it strangely reminds me of Martin Lawrence in Bad Boys 2, in the scene where he had ingested X. I am seriously loving everybody right now. Including the ugly fish with the big eyes.

Maybe a sign of old age? Am I becoming a bit too nostalgic and soft? I seriously hope not. I am arguably still an 18-year-old trapped in a 19-year-old's body (you know I'm lying), still with a penchant for mischief and goofiness and the occasional bouts of stupidity due to overexposure to the Playstation and Naruto and bags of Ruffles Cheddar & Sour Cream.

I hate it everytime I go into a contemplatory mood everytime my birthday comes around, or is this a built-in system in our heads where we think about all we've done in the past year, if I had led a life wasted playing video games or if there's still hope lingering in the horizon, and if I can finally get that promotion. Birthdays get me thinking if this will finally be my year. I start thinking of all the money I'm supposed to be saving, and if all the goals I have set for myself can finally be jumpstarted out of the burrows.

I am guessing this will be a very interesting year.

Still I have a lot to be thankful for. I have had too many blessings worthy of a man. I am surrounded by good people, and despite my misgivings and my blatant selfishness and immaturity, they stubbornly stand by me. I guess that's why we call each other friends. :) You all know who you are. Thank you.


Don

Call it second childhood, or the pursuit of a unextinguishable dream, or an angry-at-money splurge, I went ahead and bought a shiny new electric guitar. More importantly, it's a birthday gift from Caren (she paid for half of it.), and a huge step towards my dream of playing a Manila gig.

And get this: Jimboy bought cymbals for his drum machine. Nat2x bought a bass amp. Woah! We just went mad and bought what we've dreamt of having since college. Even now the reality of it still hasn't sunk that deep.

I cannot, for the life of me, explain how we went about a rampage and bought musical appendages to extend our passions beyond what we carry in our hearts (deep!). Oh, wait. Actually, that sentence just explained it. Extending our passions beyond our dreams and frustrations. We are now on the comeback trail of living the musical dream.

We are all happy with our new toys, and we're enjoying jamming and recording again. Yet there is one thing that makes this from being perfect - Wala si Aldion.

Wala si Aldion. He's in Cebu. And though we're enjoying the life we've decided to take on again, at the back of our minds we're still thinking the same thing. We wish Aldion were here. But you might say, 'Why not look for a new lead guitarist?' Yeah? Why not? We can't. It's just against the group dynamic. 4 friends who love music. Friends whose acquaintances go farther than each other's musical preferences. Friends first before bandmates. So I dedicated my purchase to our now married guitarist by buying the same type of guitar that he used and had made us successful as a band.

So here's what we did. We looked for a sessionist. Fortunately for us, Nat2x has a teammate that plays guitars and has a bit of the same musical tastes that we do. Case closed. We now have a guitar sessionist. I can't play whack when I have to sing, and I can't sing whack when I have to play. Not with the kinds of songs we're covering.

So now I have added more spice into my life. I have stretched the hours of the day to make room for practice, to make room for jammings and recordings. I have downloaded tabs, notes, lyrics, any reference on guitar-playing. I'm also saving up for voice lessons and joined the church choir to at least practice singing the right way. This time I want to be better. And this is the time to get better. This is our make or break. But still, we all wish Aldion were here.

This is probably the most dramatic shiat I've ever written. How gee.

I and a few of my officemates accompanied my expat friend James to Embassy at the Fort last saturday, me going more so to satisfy my curiosity as to why this place was popular. Embassy was a club. Call me old, but I would rather sit down at my favorite Bistro (more on this later) and listen to music or talk with friends, than dance the night away, which is, ironically, what we did at Embassy. Ah, the mystery of the human psyche.

I must admit I enjoyed it there. I was literally rubbing elbows with the rich and famous, with the bold and beautiful, and also, with those that TRY to fit the profile of the rich, famous, bold, and beautiful.

What made the night doubly enjoyable was that it was a full-blown costume party. Though we weren't in costumes, we still got in because we paid a requisite hundred bucks to have our face painted. I had never been to one before Saturday night, and I was really, really impressed. These weren't just cheap costumes, too. They were creative, expensive. I saw Jin Kazama, I saw a polar bear (and stuck my head in it's mouth and have a picture to prove it), I saw gangsters right out of the Godfather movie. I even saw Buzz Lightyear. I hope that guy won something for that.

The night actually got to being three times as enjoyable because of one thing: Tequila. Make it any kind of night, and tequila will save you. As long as they sell it cheap anyway. And if it's free, even better, which was how it was in our case. Boy oh boy.

I enjoyed the momentary thrill of that night. I haven't gone out and enjoyed like that in a while. I was too busy trying to chill, relax, act mature. I enjoyed the fast pace for once, and wouldn't mind trying it again once in a while.

At least, I got to scratch another thing off my list.

__________

Things to do before I die:
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25,678. Visit Embassy.
25,679. Buy bling-bling.
25,680. Get an afro.
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