The Gathering of Wits
Monday, September 28, 2009 8:15 PM /
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We met on Friday. Or Thursday. I really don’t remember now given the long time we had spent on Nix' apartment. For dark hours we backtracked (or at least I did) for previous progress we have accomplished. By and by I would hear the constant beating of the rain outside matched the sound of our keyboards tapping. We bowed our heads low for the pouring of difficulties. It was Thesis Week. It was Hell Week. It was a week everyone hurdled in clusters inside their homes studying, planning, and working. The possibilities for the results of our studies are endless. It was a week where we could create a $ 10B worth of game or invent a commercialized talking phone or a GPS locator. Given the amount of pressure and the frustrations, it was also a week to construct the Tower of Suicidal from desecrated bodies, invent a Terminator on a special mission or fomulate a special bomb to exterminate all teachers.
My thesis mates, Nix, Reg, Imman, Louie, Karl and Jessa are very talented individuals. I was very lucky to be in the group. Our study 2100 AD is a game where aliens and zombies attacked Earth and so a cyborg was created to defeat the enemies. We had decided to create something less violent, opting for 2D graphics instead of 3D. Be very very grateful citizens of the world for we had settled to develop a game which has no potential for mass destruction in reality; nothing to sell for the black market. N and R were mostly in charge on the game logic, while moi, J and K were on the graphics, L was on networking and Imman was our “audio master”.
So far so good. I haven’t fallen asleep during one of those long working hours. I didn’t complain about the temperature being hot, or how I miss my bed at home, or how the atmosphere was charged with deliberate strain. The guys were very serious about work. I think I was the only one who was thinking of. .NOTHING. I supposed I’m a natural when it comes to this, having spent most of my time daydreaming and sleeping. I feel guilty though, especially everytime when I ask Nix something cryptic I never heard of. He’s a sweet guy. He always answers my stupid questions without making me feel stupid. One I always talked to were Jessa, Karl and Imman. Karl and Imman are funny; J is sort of panicky which is sort of funny. Louie would appear he was resting, then after a couple of minutes he’s already sleeping. It takes all the fun to see your mate zonked off into dreamland first. Though not as fun as eating popcorns and pancit canton, and reading FHM and talking XXX stuffs (<-- we mostly do the latter when J’s asleep or not within hearing range).
On Sunday, it was - surprise, surprise! - Jessa’s 20th birthday. About fifteen minutes to midnight, I spoiled the surprise by greeting her first. It wasn’t my fault though, how was I to know Nix’ wall clock is advanced for fifteen f*ckn minutes?!
I remembered how we had celebrated my birthday on summer-they had surprised me with a candle blazing on a rice cake. It was cool, and I was touched. But it was also tacky. There were no drunk sessions or party popping noises, and the singing only lasted for a minute. I was determined to celebrate J’s birthday in a different approach. By afternoon, J and I went to go a little bit of shopping. Before heading to SM Delgado to help her pick some outfits she’ll need for Defense, we had gone first to my house to fetch my sister’s Shakey’s freebie card (buy 1 take 1 pizza!). Jessa forced me to wear the same shorts I had used last night because with all the activities up ahead, we were running out of time. She couldn’t dash into her boarding house to fetch another batch of clothes. And I, being a gentlemen and all that crap, assured her that she would not be the only one tonight who would stink.
After that, I hastily made some stupid excuse that I couldn’t go with her. When I got to Nix' apartment, I found those poor sods playing computer game. I couldn’t blame them; we were all stressed out. There wasn’t a single alcohol or some strayed stripper in the apartment to lift our beaten spirits. There was however a gun. On the computer. They were playing Call of Duty, bombing cities and killing enemies. The current mission was to kill one elusive sniper. Somehow it drew out the stress. Later I would be playing that game to kill hours of sleeplessness.
But now we were running out of time damm*t! I told them to puhleez prepare for the surprise party. I grabbed the two bottles of vodka we had bought and put them in the freezer. Nix told me they were going to buy more food. Thankgod, he must have realized that pizza and vodka couldn’t sustain us for dinner. He also added that I would be the one to cook the rice. What?!
Yep. Moi would be handling the cuisine tonight. And I would be cooking the famous Filipino dish: rice! I would be using uhmm..a rice cooker of course. BUT since there were many of us here I would also be using another pot.
Cook rice on a pot. Nix had mentioned the task casually but I was not a fool. This was payback time (so I thought) for leaving them. The only things I learned to cook on a pot are pancit canton, noodles, boiled egg, and popcorn. Anyway, it couldn’t be hard, could it? We have Gasul. I wouldn’t need to rub some sticks together to start a fire, would I? I would’t have to go outside and find a stick in the first place.
“Could you give me the directions please for the…pot,” I told Reg trying not to appear like an amateur chef. I’ve seen him cooked rice during one of our meetings. He gave me the directions and without preamble I begin to work as soon as they had left.
I kept on checking the pot to make sure it would turn out rice not lugaw. Karl wasn’t a big help. And also was Nadine, Nix sister.
Hello, can’t they see that I’m literally banging pots and pans here and making these rushing noises to imply that this is a matter of edible and inedible and so maybe you could puhleez check this? We could suffer some stomach illness if you didn’t know what I’m cooking!
Nadine walked outside past the kitchen. Karl was still busy playing the $#! sniping game.
Isn’t this interesting to see a guy cook? Aren’t they concerned about our dinner?!
Somehow, I managed to keep my sanity and cooking skills alert. Nagmato-mato na lang ko kag nagbanta-banta. By 7:30 PM, we settled for dinner with lechon manok, lumpia and my homemade rice (which fortunately did not turn into lugaw). The pizzas were just sitting on a corner, waiting to be devoured. An open invitation. The vodka on the other hand, is a different matter; I hid it in the freezer. Since I would have to go to Robinson and help some persons for Iloilo IFIT, I don’t want the guys to take a slug of pleasure without me. Call me selfish but this is what we thesis mates mostly do: we work together, we eat together, we sleep together (excluding J of course), but no, we do not take a bath together (coz I’m not comfortable about being naked in front of people). We would have to wait till midnight. Later on, I would be regretting this since I must not drink too much because I need to concentrate for work.Labels: jumpy, ken chua, lifestyle, priority, school, strategic planning, thesis
0 Couldn't Keep His Mouth Shut
Two Years of Public Service And I’m Not Sure I’ll Be Running for Another Term
Sunday, September 20, 2009 8:08 AM /
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The Pros and Cons of Moi
as an SC Officer:
★ You are always busy.
★ You are sometimes late in class.
★ You sometimes sleep in class.
★ You sometimes skip classes.
★ You are always running to some appointment.
★ If some appointment is at some faraway but familiar place, you mostly ride a jeepney.
★ If some appointment is at some faraway somewhere alien lanscape, you mostly ride a cab.
as a treasurer:
★ You get to feel being pseudo-rich carrying loads of your college funds.
★ If you’re feeling pseudo-rich with carrying loads of your college funds, you mostly take a taxi. (Chairperson’s point of view, though I pointed it out that I can both manage to take care of myself and the money)
★ If you’re feeling pseudo-rich with carrying loads of your college funds, you mostly have bodyguards.
★ You’ll most likely be the one to order and pay any transaction.
★ You’ll most likely be the one to decide what the officers will eat, and in which restaurant that suits your budget.
★ You’ll most likely be with the chairperson’s company. Together with the secretary. And sometimes with the first lady.
★ You are paranoid of strangers, muggers, and numbers.
as an event organizer:
★ You get various connections from important businessmen. You meet a lot of them and have to act like them.
★ You get to call annoying a lot of people, inquiring about hotel rates, food expenses, its location etc..
★ You get to have food samples from various hotels!
★ You get freebies that you’ll either spend for yourselves or put it as door prizes for the students
★ You get to eat last during the event.
★ Sometimes you have not eaten anything at all.
★ Incredibly, you do not lose an ounce of $#! fat. Aaaiiieee!
★ You do not get your face taken in every picture unless you are an emcee, one of the participants or the committee chair. Worse, sometimes you are not included during class pictures.
★ You get your face taken before the event, when you are still not wearing your best outfit, or after the event, when your best outfit looks rumpled and worn-out.
★ You are not allowed to celebrate (drinking and clubbing included) unless the party has been a success.
★ You get irritated about the lousy hotel services; the students hold you responsible for the outcome of this event.
★ You get irritated about some students not paying on time; sometimes they are one of the reasons for the lousy hotel services.
★ You get pretty emotional about some minor stuffs.
as an leader:
★ You have to sacrifice your social interests.
★ You have to sacrifice your love interests.
★ You have to make your own decisions.
★ You have to make your own solutions.Labels: country, ken chua, lifestyle, politics, school, status, student council, what if
0 Couldn't Keep His Mouth Shut
One Day These Soles Could Trample An Ocean Tides Of Arguments About History. .
Tuesday, September 15, 2009 3:00 PM /
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I was not prepared to be the the Prime Minister in our debate.Who am I kidding?Prime Minister. The Speaker. The Leader. One who always talks first. I don't like the thought of that as the members of our group had pushed me into the first seat.I couldn't deliver a speech. Especially a first sentence that could convince my classmates that Yes, yes. .Ken is correct. .and Oohh what a lovely gentle voice he has unsuitable for debate.Alright. The unofficial, completely hush-hush explanation, also known as the truth: I was not prepared. Well. .I was prepared to be a second speaker. Or a researcher. This I could honestly admit. But not the Prime Minister. Aaarrggghh!So what did I do after stuttering words and phrases adlib? Got that right, I made a total fool of myself.
*sigh*One day these soles could trample an ocean tides of arguments about history.
I'm not aspiring to be a high-class shoe-off. But then again, I could also be like Gokongwei and change history without being a smooth talker.Labels: decepticon, jumpy, ken chua, politics, school, strategic planning
0 Couldn't Keep His Mouth Shut
The Logistics of Hot Or Cold Transfer
Monday, September 14, 2009 4:09 PM /
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I was waiting in the faculty room. And listening. Sort of snooping but not at all intruding. I was sitting beside the wall my back on one of the new faculty, Sir Anrem, carefully taking all what Sara, an IBM volunteer, was discussing.
They were conferring about logistics and that sort of process. I thought logistics is about logic, it’s the root word, I guess and business. Maybe that’s what IBM stands for: International Business Modules. Or Machines. Or Measures.
I honestly don’t know what IBM means. .whehehe. .except that it’s a computer company or manufacturer or something.
“Do you have a free time?” Miss Sara was saying which promptly provided Sir A a silent hesitation. Gee. .I didn’t want to offend Ms S but a teacher doesn’t have a free time. I’m telling the truth, based on how much most of my teachers ended up all lonely and forlorn implanting life’s virus-free ideas, debugging dangerous threats and fixing those neuro-circuits from little kids heads such as mine. It takes just a couple of hours to fix machines, but a lifetime to fix deranged humans. That’s a personal risk every teacher has to take. But anyway, how does Ms S know? She’s an IBM volunteer; she always has a free time.
Anyway, I haven’t done listening to her after picking up those cryptic words such as logistics. I couldn’t discern what this was all about. It was all too. .techie. .no, no. .too grown-up. Too inexplicable, too BIG for another brain space consumed for pondering its significance inside my short circuited head. Like I said, grown-up stuffs.
If you’re wondering why I was there in the first place is that because I was waiting for the PTA Treasurer to transfer some “transactions”. Grown-up stuffs. Aaarggghh!
“So how do you transfer the Ps into another account?” inquired Mrs Treasurer.
“The usual, I guess,” I replied thinking she must have known how to handle transactions since she’s already a working girl-slash-mother. Hello, Mrs T, grown-up stuffs!
“I need to know how you transfer it. . .”
“Uhmmm..cold transfer?” I said before I could think of anything else. Cold transfer and hot transfer, I read that somewhere. .Maybe some kind of instructions from the shower.
“What conditions must be abided for the transaction, what methods are necessary?”
I didn’t quite get that. Did she mean logistics?
Sometimes I’m an idiot when it comes to this grown-up stuff. So I had to seek Maam Beth, a 20-something gal who manages lots of stuffs between grown-up and not and also obtained a degree – not bad –, the link between students and parents, Consultant for PTA affairs.
Ms B and I tried to explain about the normal way we use in transferring Ps thru a simple formula.
Student Treasurer Withdraws (Yours truly) = Parent Treasurer Deposits (Mrs T)
Later I learned from Ms B that Mrs T was working on a coop. Not our school coop, but a still a coop.
I wonder what logistics they have in there. a) Something hot. b) Or cold. c) Or something old?Labels: grown-ups, jumpy, ken chua, priority, school, student council
0 Couldn't Keep His Mouth Shut
Twenty-First Century Zombies and Dummies
Wednesday, September 9, 2009 10:19 AM /
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One of our major instructors was amused by yesterday’s demonstration. The silent vigil, the blue ribbons hanging about everywhere (on the head, around the wrist, the neck and among the trees), the rally – scratch that, there was no rally – was very amusing to him.
Students, shall we take up our stand and bring forth our stashed armaments and deadly paraphernalia so that the grown-ups will take us seriously?! Girls and nerds, shall we smear graffiti along the walls with our lipsticks (lipstick?! Yes, not matte but blood-red gloss with long-lasting shine) and (glow in the dark) highlighters? Shall we raise our mighty pens (not for writing, but for stabbing) and proclaim that our exploitation must be put on end? Shall we hostage the President of this university?!
Uh. No way.
But thank you for the suggestion (I’m thanking and rejecting myself). We students think of our decisions and its consequences. We are concerned on our rights as much as we are concerned in this university. We do not subject ourselves to violent reactions. We discuss things. We ponder like any twenty-first century man ought to do. We think.
My classmate Jeff believed I was brainwashed by the USC for taking their side. Yep, why thank you for the psychological diagnosis, J; I didn’t know you had a minor in Psych.
I denied about my being brainwashed. Duh?
This isn’t some magician’s ruse but hell, its already turning into an entertaining circus!
I’m not brainwashed! So sorry Jeff. If I was, I would have spewed some acrid toxic-green breath across the room that you’ll wish you hadn’t spoken to me earlier, and still manage to lure everyone with these mesmerizing red-and-white shades twirling on my sockets while I chomp your head off without second thought! Raaawwwrr!
Surely if I was brainwashed I might not be sitting beside J listening for the other side of the story from our instructor. Rrrraaaiiiyyyyt?
Again, I’m not brainwashed. I’m repeating this. And I’m not on denial. Nope.
Aside from the fact that I can think, I believe I have a free will. To write about something that makes sense or not, or to just plainly amuse myself. To act out my concern in this university. To wear that blue ribbon (where should I put it: on my hair, around my wrist or my neck? Perhaps I’ll tie it around the trees?).
To liberate.
Yes, that’s the word. I think most of the people here are not open-minded enough to listen on both sides of the story. Most of them just take orders from the higher authority: The USC or The Admin. Either way, it has influenced every student’s and staff’s decision. Some joined in because it’s what they told us to do. While others wanted to bring down the opposing management.
They might as well have risen from the dead with those vacant eyes hungry for power, eager for the kill, ambitious and greedy. Raaawwwrr!
Horrible monsters!
They might as well be the zombies and dummies of the twenty-first century. I myself turn into a zombie on stupor every stinking, boring class or a croc during chowtime but I know my limits and responsibilities. I know I’m capable of making my own decisions, what’s good for me, for this university and my country. Yeah.
With no reason to ponder its consequences, would you let yourself be like a dummy, controlled by its master? Or a zombie who takes pleasure exterminating those who are not their kind?Labels: grown-ups, jumpy, ken chua, monsters, politics, school
0 Couldn't Keep His Mouth Shut
Hear Ye, We’re Having Classes Whilst (Mostly) Everyone Is On Strike!
Tuesday, September 8, 2009 1:13 PM /
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Have you ever experienced having class while most of the students in your university were “on strike”?
Have you ever missed an anticipating riot?
I do. Right now.
Arrggghh.
I’m stuck in this room, where we talk for one and a half hours about Rizal, patriotism and propaganda and heroic deeds. How utterly mocking it is to be stuck inside the classroom discussing freedom while everyone else outside is demonstrating it.
The Admin in our school is causing trouble these days. I know I should not meddle into politics but my sense of social responsibility and student awareness must be exercised. Like those students outside on strike!
Because I have a class, I just had a quick stop over in front of the Admin and managed to take a picture. Unfortunately, it wasn’t quite much: all I got were heads and backs.
“You should pay attention to our class, debate is an interesting topic” declares our teacher, eyeing everyone in the room. I dare not blink when he passes a stare on me.
Hear ye. .hear ye. .I’m paying attention. .
“Mr C, I think you must transfer to the other seat,” he says much to my failed attempts to concentrate on class. D*mn! I thought I was discreet enough to catch glimpses of what’s happening outside.
I transfer and seat myself to the other side, and try to pay attention about the rules of debate.
A few minutes later I am learning how to address an inquirer by describing his $#!+¥ hat (“That Gentleman with the black top hat”); how to be recognized by raising one arm and the other holding your head because traditionally men of olden times wore a wig (I don’t know why you have to hold it, maybe because it might fall off?); and not to hold anything – may it be a baton or a quill – while you’re delivering your speech. But of course, none of us wears hats, or wigs or brings a baton in school.
Hear ye. .hear ye. .what an interesting stuffs this is!
Even though the world outside is unfolding and changing, even though I am dying to join the students for the demonstration, even though I am wearing this symbolic blue ribbon around my wrist, there’s an unspoken truth why I’m still stuck here with the teacher: I’m a student. I came here to learn in the first place. If I ditch this class to attend the commotion, as much as exciting it is, I will miss not only these lessons (how insignificant or useful it is in the future) but the opportunity itself that the teacher is here eager to share something renders me to stay still.
And listen.
And..uhm..write. :P
I concentrate on the class as much as I can, shutting out an image of myself, bald but discreetly concealed by a slick wig (shock!), carrying a top hat in one hand (shock!), a baton in another (shock!), a figure of urbane sophistication despite of old age, giving speeches and applauded by many (bow!), most renowned Filipino debater on history (bow!).Labels: jumpy, ken chua, politics, priority, school, what if, world peace
0 Couldn't Keep His Mouth Shut