In the absence of anything of substance to put up, I'll put up some random links I like to visit once in a while.
The MegaTokyo Forums - an anything goes type of forum, though one with a civilized touch. Good for learning or finding out about just about anything you can think of, not to mention learning a thing or two.
Stop Tazmo - if you're looking for manga scanslations, there's a ton of them here.
Mugging The Muse - an excellent download for writers, aspiring novelists, and pretty much any Intelligraph Corporation employee that needs to rekindle the creative spark.
Gendou - the second largest anime MP3 archive I know of. And this one doesn't require that you use an FTP client to download anything.
Tuxedo Jack's FTP server - the largest archive of anime MP3s I've ever seen. Everything's free, but you might encounter some downtime every so often. Plus, you'll need an FTP client to access it.
The Asylum Director
- VIIIofSwords
- "The only thing I was fit for was to be a writer, and this rested solely on my suspicion that I would never be fit for real work, and that writing didn't require any." - Russel Baker
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Monday, June 25, 2007
We Are Little More Than The Whores Of The Capitalist Machine
Disclaimer: I do not own Castlevania: Symphony of the Night or the lyrics of “I Am The Wind,” which are partially quoted below.
Just like the sun,
When my day’s done
Sometimes, I don’t like
The person I’ve become
They say everything in life nowadays can be obtained through compromise. Compromise your principles and your pride in exchange for the faint promise that your boss won’t see fit to fire you. Compromise your individuality and your sanity in exchange for a steady income that seems to dwindle each time you see those numbers on your pay slip. Compromise your creative urges and your intelligence for monotony, security, and a sense of being part of the social order. Yes, compromise is such a wonderful thing.
I guess it was shortly after I got my first job that I came to realize that the Rage Against The Machine’s philosophy is right. In the current capitalist, corporate society that we’re forced to live in, you only really have two freedoms. The first freedom is to toss aside all sense of freedom, individuality, and sense to work for measly pay in typically dead-end jobs that ensure that the poor get poorer, the workers are exploited, and the slave masters come out smelling like so many roses. And if you refuse to exercise your first freedom, you then move on to the second freedom. The freedom to starve and rot.
So where does that put me and every other unemployed person in the country? We are in the unenviable position of being forced to stay unemployed or become corporate whores. In the corporate world, there is only room for one principle: make money. Your pride, your accomplishments, your personality, your sanity. They’re all expendable, no matter how concerned the HR interviewer might seem about them. The fact is, you sign on that dotted line, and you’ve just sold yourself, your skills, and perhaps even your body to the whims and fancies of the capitalist machine.
In the end, that’s what each and every person that isn’t running a company is. That’s right, all of us ordinary employees are really little more than whores and prostitutes. We’re selling ourselves to the highest bidder and placing everything we have to be laid bare for them to scrutinize us and see if we fit their tastes. If that doesn’t sound like a brothel to you, then you’re obviously as dense as the nincompoop of a man who runs Intelligraph Corporation. Really now, prostitutes sell their bodies for cash. We sell our skills for cash. There’s hardly any difference, except perhaps the fact that your average whore is at least honest about the nature of their job.
Even artists, painters, and novelists have to conform with what the world thinks is marketable, what the world thinks is aesthetic, what the world thinks is art. You sacrifice the integrity of your artistic vision in exchange for what others would think as artistic, as creative, as acceptable. Even the most radical artists have given in and sold part of themselves out just to make a quick buck. The only people that haven’t sold themselves out are the ones that aren’t known, the ones that don’t have a single penny to their names. All artistic integrity and vision will really get you nowadays is an empty wallet, an empty stomach, and just a touch of pride at not having sold your soul to the capitalist machine.
So why do we do the things we do? Because we don’t have much other choice. We work and conform, or we starve and die. We sell ourselves out, whore ourselves to these big corporations and businesses, let them bend us over and sodomize us, because in the world we live in now, we’ve got no other choice. What people see and think about when they see us is utterly influences, you see, by where we say we work.
You mention you work in a call center, and people will imagine someone living the high life. Lots of cash in his pocket and an easy job that just involves talking to people. Mention you’re a doctor or nurse and people conjure up clinics, hospitals, scenes from E.R. and House. Mention you’re a writer and images of book signings, late night moments writing that next best-selling romance novel, and drafts for the cheesy moments in primetime telenovelas instantly appear in people’s eyes. Which rather inspired me to write an essay on why men should watch more romantic comedies. I ought to be finished writing that soon.
The image people see of us is one that is ultimately determined by what our job is, whether we hold a title or position, and whether or not we even have a job. Yes, I’ll go out and say it. Some of us look for work simply because there are people in our lives that think we only matter when we have a steady, honest income. If you don’t have a job, you may as well be beneath their notice. We, as a people, are too concerned with appearances and social reflections, such that if we are unemployed, we are automatically isolated from the rest of the social strata. And we are to be in such exile until we find another job. Sad, hurtful, but it is not merely the truth, it is also a fact.
So the words above ring true for all of us. There are days, I am sure, when each and every last one among us does not like what they’ve let themselves become. Do we not, at some point in our lives, stay up on Friday nights and question whether giving up our ideals, our hopes, our dreams, our souls was worth what little we are getting now? Was it worth it, to seek compromise and accept that which is offered instead of holding out and letting what was a budding vision of grandeur fade beneath a pile of bureaucracy and paperwork?
Honestly? I don’t know.
I can’t presume to speak for everyone. As egotistical and arrogant as I can be, I can’t make that claim. I can only speak for myself and the people I know, the people I trust and people that I’ve shared the trenches of this eternal capitalist war with. All I can really presume is that I speak for myself.
Therefore, what do I say about all this? After the compromises. After the lies. After the kissing up to the boss’ ass. After the polite silence needed to stay employed. After the many nights spend questioning my purpose, my truth. After the sight of so many friends giving up their dreams and toiling away for a paycheck twice a month. After the hours of feeling as if I’d let myself die and allowed an empty shell to take my place.
I don’t like what I’ve become.
Do you?
To end this meaningless prattle, I offer lyrics from a song. This time it is the property of Blink 182, from their song “Anthem.”
We’ve been guided,
We’ve been misled,
Young and hostile,
But not stupid.
Random, Unrelated Note:
It has recently come to my attention that when people look up EduNara on the Internet, they tend to somehow stumble upon my blog. Particularly, the post I put up about EduNara and the experience I had working for them. It seems that my opinion on that particular corporate environment has somehow become some sort of…beacon for all of the disgruntled employees of the company, as well as applicants who aren’t quite sure if EduNara is on the up and up.
My apologies, but I simply did not spend enough time in that particular company to pin down concrete objections and observations. All I can offer are vague hunches and my bits of intuition, though the comments on the place certainly seem to reflect how accurate my instincts were about the place.
Now, if this were Intelligraph we were talking about, then I'd have plenty of ammo.
Another Random, Unrelated Note:
Cecilia & Mint is no more. That story has held that tentative title for so long that I’d actually forgotten it was a tentative title. From here on out, I will drop the Cecilia & Mint moniker and refer to the story as Darkness & Stars. No, the story is still dedicated to her, my perfect rose.
Just like the sun,
When my day’s done
Sometimes, I don’t like
The person I’ve become
They say everything in life nowadays can be obtained through compromise. Compromise your principles and your pride in exchange for the faint promise that your boss won’t see fit to fire you. Compromise your individuality and your sanity in exchange for a steady income that seems to dwindle each time you see those numbers on your pay slip. Compromise your creative urges and your intelligence for monotony, security, and a sense of being part of the social order. Yes, compromise is such a wonderful thing.
I guess it was shortly after I got my first job that I came to realize that the Rage Against The Machine’s philosophy is right. In the current capitalist, corporate society that we’re forced to live in, you only really have two freedoms. The first freedom is to toss aside all sense of freedom, individuality, and sense to work for measly pay in typically dead-end jobs that ensure that the poor get poorer, the workers are exploited, and the slave masters come out smelling like so many roses. And if you refuse to exercise your first freedom, you then move on to the second freedom. The freedom to starve and rot.
So where does that put me and every other unemployed person in the country? We are in the unenviable position of being forced to stay unemployed or become corporate whores. In the corporate world, there is only room for one principle: make money. Your pride, your accomplishments, your personality, your sanity. They’re all expendable, no matter how concerned the HR interviewer might seem about them. The fact is, you sign on that dotted line, and you’ve just sold yourself, your skills, and perhaps even your body to the whims and fancies of the capitalist machine.
In the end, that’s what each and every person that isn’t running a company is. That’s right, all of us ordinary employees are really little more than whores and prostitutes. We’re selling ourselves to the highest bidder and placing everything we have to be laid bare for them to scrutinize us and see if we fit their tastes. If that doesn’t sound like a brothel to you, then you’re obviously as dense as the nincompoop of a man who runs Intelligraph Corporation. Really now, prostitutes sell their bodies for cash. We sell our skills for cash. There’s hardly any difference, except perhaps the fact that your average whore is at least honest about the nature of their job.
Even artists, painters, and novelists have to conform with what the world thinks is marketable, what the world thinks is aesthetic, what the world thinks is art. You sacrifice the integrity of your artistic vision in exchange for what others would think as artistic, as creative, as acceptable. Even the most radical artists have given in and sold part of themselves out just to make a quick buck. The only people that haven’t sold themselves out are the ones that aren’t known, the ones that don’t have a single penny to their names. All artistic integrity and vision will really get you nowadays is an empty wallet, an empty stomach, and just a touch of pride at not having sold your soul to the capitalist machine.
So why do we do the things we do? Because we don’t have much other choice. We work and conform, or we starve and die. We sell ourselves out, whore ourselves to these big corporations and businesses, let them bend us over and sodomize us, because in the world we live in now, we’ve got no other choice. What people see and think about when they see us is utterly influences, you see, by where we say we work.
You mention you work in a call center, and people will imagine someone living the high life. Lots of cash in his pocket and an easy job that just involves talking to people. Mention you’re a doctor or nurse and people conjure up clinics, hospitals, scenes from E.R. and House. Mention you’re a writer and images of book signings, late night moments writing that next best-selling romance novel, and drafts for the cheesy moments in primetime telenovelas instantly appear in people’s eyes. Which rather inspired me to write an essay on why men should watch more romantic comedies. I ought to be finished writing that soon.
The image people see of us is one that is ultimately determined by what our job is, whether we hold a title or position, and whether or not we even have a job. Yes, I’ll go out and say it. Some of us look for work simply because there are people in our lives that think we only matter when we have a steady, honest income. If you don’t have a job, you may as well be beneath their notice. We, as a people, are too concerned with appearances and social reflections, such that if we are unemployed, we are automatically isolated from the rest of the social strata. And we are to be in such exile until we find another job. Sad, hurtful, but it is not merely the truth, it is also a fact.
So the words above ring true for all of us. There are days, I am sure, when each and every last one among us does not like what they’ve let themselves become. Do we not, at some point in our lives, stay up on Friday nights and question whether giving up our ideals, our hopes, our dreams, our souls was worth what little we are getting now? Was it worth it, to seek compromise and accept that which is offered instead of holding out and letting what was a budding vision of grandeur fade beneath a pile of bureaucracy and paperwork?
Honestly? I don’t know.
I can’t presume to speak for everyone. As egotistical and arrogant as I can be, I can’t make that claim. I can only speak for myself and the people I know, the people I trust and people that I’ve shared the trenches of this eternal capitalist war with. All I can really presume is that I speak for myself.
Therefore, what do I say about all this? After the compromises. After the lies. After the kissing up to the boss’ ass. After the polite silence needed to stay employed. After the many nights spend questioning my purpose, my truth. After the sight of so many friends giving up their dreams and toiling away for a paycheck twice a month. After the hours of feeling as if I’d let myself die and allowed an empty shell to take my place.
I don’t like what I’ve become.
Do you?
To end this meaningless prattle, I offer lyrics from a song. This time it is the property of Blink 182, from their song “Anthem.”
We’ve been guided,
We’ve been misled,
Young and hostile,
But not stupid.
Random, Unrelated Note:
It has recently come to my attention that when people look up EduNara on the Internet, they tend to somehow stumble upon my blog. Particularly, the post I put up about EduNara and the experience I had working for them. It seems that my opinion on that particular corporate environment has somehow become some sort of…beacon for all of the disgruntled employees of the company, as well as applicants who aren’t quite sure if EduNara is on the up and up.
My apologies, but I simply did not spend enough time in that particular company to pin down concrete objections and observations. All I can offer are vague hunches and my bits of intuition, though the comments on the place certainly seem to reflect how accurate my instincts were about the place.
Now, if this were Intelligraph we were talking about, then I'd have plenty of ammo.
Another Random, Unrelated Note:
Cecilia & Mint is no more. That story has held that tentative title for so long that I’d actually forgotten it was a tentative title. From here on out, I will drop the Cecilia & Mint moniker and refer to the story as Darkness & Stars. No, the story is still dedicated to her, my perfect rose.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Little Things You Learn
You know, being unemployed (again) has given me a bit of perspective. I have come to realize a few minor, trivial, insignificant little things about life that, for reasons I cannot fathom, actually amuse me. I don’t know why I am seeking amusement, but then, I guess having someone very close to you die can have you doing some crazy things. Here are ten of those little things I discovered.
1. It may be job suicide to reveal the ineptitude and stupidity of your boss in Intelligraph, but damn it doing that feels good.
2. The aircon in the NBI clearance office in Carriedo is colder than the aircon in Intelligraph. It is roughly on par with a school aircon.
3. The reason my blog’s design is so dismal is that I’m far too lazy to do anything about it.
4. Nuns are more corrupt that priests. Particularly Dominican ones.
5. Sometimes, you watch the best animé for the dumbest reasons. Like watching a sci-fi show with a nice plot like Divergence Eve or Starship Operators for the sexy female cast.
6. It is possible to download videos from YouTube. It is also possible to convert them to a file format that can actually be watched on a standard PC. I should have discovered this earlier, but I was too lazy to even consider the idea.
7. I have a tendency to be attracted to girls who have the ability and resources to kill me. Said girls also tend to be attracted to me.
8. Cats are superior to dogs. Let no one tell you otherwise.
9. The odds of any given thing happening will likely end up being someone’s phone number. For example, the chances of any girl from my alma mater caring about how I’m doing and actually checking on me are 639,178,871,984 to 1, which turns out to be someone’s cellphone number if you exclude the ‘to 1’ bit.
10. An adequately cute girl can instantly make any situation better.
Also...Misaki!
1. It may be job suicide to reveal the ineptitude and stupidity of your boss in Intelligraph, but damn it doing that feels good.
2. The aircon in the NBI clearance office in Carriedo is colder than the aircon in Intelligraph. It is roughly on par with a school aircon.
3. The reason my blog’s design is so dismal is that I’m far too lazy to do anything about it.
4. Nuns are more corrupt that priests. Particularly Dominican ones.
5. Sometimes, you watch the best animé for the dumbest reasons. Like watching a sci-fi show with a nice plot like Divergence Eve or Starship Operators for the sexy female cast.
6. It is possible to download videos from YouTube. It is also possible to convert them to a file format that can actually be watched on a standard PC. I should have discovered this earlier, but I was too lazy to even consider the idea.
7. I have a tendency to be attracted to girls who have the ability and resources to kill me. Said girls also tend to be attracted to me.
8. Cats are superior to dogs. Let no one tell you otherwise.
9. The odds of any given thing happening will likely end up being someone’s phone number. For example, the chances of any girl from my alma mater caring about how I’m doing and actually checking on me are 639,178,871,984 to 1, which turns out to be someone’s cellphone number if you exclude the ‘to 1’ bit.
10. An adequately cute girl can instantly make any situation better.
Also...Misaki!
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Elegy For A Perfect Rose
I try to avoid making mention of some people in my personal life in my blog. I make the occasional reference, but never do I pin anyone by name. There are aspects and people in my personal life that are best kept separate from this place. After all, my very few readers are not exactly interested in them. However, for this instance, I will make an exception. For this event, I will speak directly of someone who meant a lot to me. There is no word in the English language to fully convey just what she was to me.
And now, she’s gone.
Regardless of my supposed talent for words, I’ve never been able to give the people I care about, the people who matter to me a proper elegy. The elegant words of the grave that the departed do not hear are elusive to me. It is one of my great number of weaknesses. But in this case, for this particular girl, I feel that I need to at least try. Before I go on, I’d like to apologize to her for my inadequacy, as the words fail to convey what emotions reveal with such irreverent ease.
Elegy For A Perfect Rose
She was…special, I guess would be the right word. I could probably put together an impressive array of adjectives for her, I could exhaust the words of every language ever made by human thought, and it would still be inadequate. Words fail to describe what she was to me, and any attempt to put her spirit, her persona, her spark down to mere sounds and symbols would be but an exercise in futility. All I can really say to describe her is that she was who she was, no less than that, but sometimes something more.
Unlike the stereotype, our last conversation wasn’t one with regrets or one of missed opportunities. When she packed up and left for her trip, her visit to some family members, I told her I’d miss her, that things would not be the same without her. She called me a sap, punched me in the arm, and kissed me goodbye. No regrets. She loved me and I loved her. A simple, concise affirmation of what the feelings were between us. No, what had happened between us is not what fuels the burden of regret for me.
It is what never happened that I regret.
She lived in fear that she stood in the shadow of her older sister, that she had an impossible standard to live up to. She feared her inability to meet that standard, to exceed the levels that her sister attained. She feared I could never love her for her, as her sister’s face was what I saw whenever she flashed me her smile. She dreaded the irrational fear that I held her, loved her for her sister’s potent visage. She feared that idea, even as I worked to calm that irrational fear by showing her that I did not see her as her sister.
I regret I never told her that I lived in her sister’s shadow and that I was there with her in that overwhelming darkness. I regret not taking her by the hand sooner.
She was, like her older sister, a fire that burned bright. The flames that consumed my fuel and sparked me to levels of creative genius and literary madness. I regret not realizing how truly different the natures of their fires were, how the blazes they started in me were so fundamentally contrasted in their potency. Her sister was a flame born of conditioning, lit to serve a purpose, maintained to form a flare of intensity and precision. She was an ember loose in the woods, a small spark that fought the elements and consumed what fuel could be found to grow. She took her strengths where she could find them, and began to grow to achieve greater strength.
I regret not telling her I knew the differences and telling her of them. I regret not speaking to her, of telling her I longed to see the inferno she could become.
She gave me an idea that, though simple and possibly hackneyed, I adored. A creative venture that she crafted in her mind specifically for my hands to compose, to put to the written word. It bore with it a subtle appeal, one that was easy to miss if one does not know how to seek it. A precious idea, one that she told me would make for the perfect gift once I was done with it.
I regret that she did not live to see me begin. I regret that I never gave her the thanks she was due for crafting it.
A few regrets, but they are burdens for a lifetime. Yet, even as I regret the things I failed to do, I cannot deny that most of what we had was utter bliss. What she left me, what she gave me, were things that I would cherish for eternity.
She gave me the spark again, the creative fire that burned bright. You let me have one more chance to show what I was capable of, to make my mark on the world with what I write. You showed me I still had it in me, that I was not burned out, that I could still play the game. You gave me what I needed to write again, returned me to the art that I almost abandoned.
She gave me support when no one else would, slapped me in the face and told me to continue when all else told me it wasn’t worth it. You never let me quit and told me to go on, to work through my writer’s block and come up with words of grandeur and fantasy. You never left my side as I wrote, even when I was at my lowest and worst. A muse such as you, I can never find again.
She was my friend, my shoulder to cry on. She took all my worries, my fears, and my insecurities. She took them and taught me to toss them aside and embrace what I was capable of. She listened to me as I complained and whined, as I raved this way and that about how all things in my life were terrible. All save for her. And when I was done, you would take my hand, look me in the eye, and knock some sense into me. When I was worried, you worried with me. When I was paranoid, you helped me prepare for the worst. When I needed you, you were by my side.
She loved me, even when I didn’t deserve her. I used her. I neglected her. I ignored her. I hurt her. For so many years, I wouldn’t even consider her feelings. But she was always there, always ready to give me that primal smile, the one that showed just how down her mind could go. She was always ready to extend her hand, offer her time and her assurances and her grace when I needed it, whether I admitted that need or not. I didn’t deserve her, but she reminded me of a simple lesson about the nature of love.
”We are not loved because we are worthy. We are worthy because we are loved.”
She taught me the value of a single, perfect rose.
I still can’t quite grasp just how many roles she took on when she became part of my life. She was my muse. She was my creative spark. She was my angel of mercy. She was my madness. She was my power. She was my passion. She was my world. She was the devil inside me. She was my saving grace. She was my ruthless taskmaster.
She was my girl.
So here I am, here without you. I’ll never see that wicked smile again. I’ll never hold your hand again. I’ll never feel that comforting numbness that I get when you use my arm as a pillow as you sleep again. I’ll never see that sugary look in your eyes, the one that makes me agree with you again. I’ll never kiss you out of the blue to end an argument I’m losing again. So many things to say, but no words to say them with.
In the end, everything here feels hollow to me. Pointless. In the end, these are words she’ll never hear, things that she’ll never know. In the end, all I can really think of comes out cliché. In the end, what needs to be said were the last words I spoke to you.
“I love you.”
May your path be forever filled with roses, Mint.
Mint
(November 5, 1984 — June 18, 2007)
~A Daughter~
~A Sister~
~A Lover~
~A Perfect Rose~
And now, she’s gone.
Regardless of my supposed talent for words, I’ve never been able to give the people I care about, the people who matter to me a proper elegy. The elegant words of the grave that the departed do not hear are elusive to me. It is one of my great number of weaknesses. But in this case, for this particular girl, I feel that I need to at least try. Before I go on, I’d like to apologize to her for my inadequacy, as the words fail to convey what emotions reveal with such irreverent ease.
Elegy For A Perfect Rose
She was…special, I guess would be the right word. I could probably put together an impressive array of adjectives for her, I could exhaust the words of every language ever made by human thought, and it would still be inadequate. Words fail to describe what she was to me, and any attempt to put her spirit, her persona, her spark down to mere sounds and symbols would be but an exercise in futility. All I can really say to describe her is that she was who she was, no less than that, but sometimes something more.
Unlike the stereotype, our last conversation wasn’t one with regrets or one of missed opportunities. When she packed up and left for her trip, her visit to some family members, I told her I’d miss her, that things would not be the same without her. She called me a sap, punched me in the arm, and kissed me goodbye. No regrets. She loved me and I loved her. A simple, concise affirmation of what the feelings were between us. No, what had happened between us is not what fuels the burden of regret for me.
It is what never happened that I regret.
She lived in fear that she stood in the shadow of her older sister, that she had an impossible standard to live up to. She feared her inability to meet that standard, to exceed the levels that her sister attained. She feared I could never love her for her, as her sister’s face was what I saw whenever she flashed me her smile. She dreaded the irrational fear that I held her, loved her for her sister’s potent visage. She feared that idea, even as I worked to calm that irrational fear by showing her that I did not see her as her sister.
I regret I never told her that I lived in her sister’s shadow and that I was there with her in that overwhelming darkness. I regret not taking her by the hand sooner.
She was, like her older sister, a fire that burned bright. The flames that consumed my fuel and sparked me to levels of creative genius and literary madness. I regret not realizing how truly different the natures of their fires were, how the blazes they started in me were so fundamentally contrasted in their potency. Her sister was a flame born of conditioning, lit to serve a purpose, maintained to form a flare of intensity and precision. She was an ember loose in the woods, a small spark that fought the elements and consumed what fuel could be found to grow. She took her strengths where she could find them, and began to grow to achieve greater strength.
I regret not telling her I knew the differences and telling her of them. I regret not speaking to her, of telling her I longed to see the inferno she could become.
She gave me an idea that, though simple and possibly hackneyed, I adored. A creative venture that she crafted in her mind specifically for my hands to compose, to put to the written word. It bore with it a subtle appeal, one that was easy to miss if one does not know how to seek it. A precious idea, one that she told me would make for the perfect gift once I was done with it.
I regret that she did not live to see me begin. I regret that I never gave her the thanks she was due for crafting it.
A few regrets, but they are burdens for a lifetime. Yet, even as I regret the things I failed to do, I cannot deny that most of what we had was utter bliss. What she left me, what she gave me, were things that I would cherish for eternity.
She gave me the spark again, the creative fire that burned bright. You let me have one more chance to show what I was capable of, to make my mark on the world with what I write. You showed me I still had it in me, that I was not burned out, that I could still play the game. You gave me what I needed to write again, returned me to the art that I almost abandoned.
She gave me support when no one else would, slapped me in the face and told me to continue when all else told me it wasn’t worth it. You never let me quit and told me to go on, to work through my writer’s block and come up with words of grandeur and fantasy. You never left my side as I wrote, even when I was at my lowest and worst. A muse such as you, I can never find again.
She was my friend, my shoulder to cry on. She took all my worries, my fears, and my insecurities. She took them and taught me to toss them aside and embrace what I was capable of. She listened to me as I complained and whined, as I raved this way and that about how all things in my life were terrible. All save for her. And when I was done, you would take my hand, look me in the eye, and knock some sense into me. When I was worried, you worried with me. When I was paranoid, you helped me prepare for the worst. When I needed you, you were by my side.
She loved me, even when I didn’t deserve her. I used her. I neglected her. I ignored her. I hurt her. For so many years, I wouldn’t even consider her feelings. But she was always there, always ready to give me that primal smile, the one that showed just how down her mind could go. She was always ready to extend her hand, offer her time and her assurances and her grace when I needed it, whether I admitted that need or not. I didn’t deserve her, but she reminded me of a simple lesson about the nature of love.
”We are not loved because we are worthy. We are worthy because we are loved.”
She taught me the value of a single, perfect rose.
I still can’t quite grasp just how many roles she took on when she became part of my life. She was my muse. She was my creative spark. She was my angel of mercy. She was my madness. She was my power. She was my passion. She was my world. She was the devil inside me. She was my saving grace. She was my ruthless taskmaster.
She was my girl.
So here I am, here without you. I’ll never see that wicked smile again. I’ll never hold your hand again. I’ll never feel that comforting numbness that I get when you use my arm as a pillow as you sleep again. I’ll never see that sugary look in your eyes, the one that makes me agree with you again. I’ll never kiss you out of the blue to end an argument I’m losing again. So many things to say, but no words to say them with.
In the end, everything here feels hollow to me. Pointless. In the end, these are words she’ll never hear, things that she’ll never know. In the end, all I can really think of comes out cliché. In the end, what needs to be said were the last words I spoke to you.
“I love you.”
May your path be forever filled with roses, Mint.
Mint
(November 5, 1984 — June 18, 2007)
~A Daughter~
~A Sister~
~A Lover~
~A Perfect Rose~
Monday, June 18, 2007
I'm Unemployed. Again.
I was originally going to just edit my original post for this day, but this event requires a completely separate update.
You see, as the title above implies, I've just been fired. This, of course, really shouldn't come as a surprise. Now, here's what I managed to grasp of the situation and how things ended up the way they are at this exact moment.
I am told I have an attitude problem. No disputing that. However, from what I've managed to understand (and believe me, you can come to understand quite a lot when you know what to look for), this is not because of my general personality. No, my abrasive, brash, take-no-prisoners, whiny, annoying demeanor isn't exactly the cause for my untimely dismissal. In reality, what happened is more like them taking issue with my adamant objections to a particular project.
You see, for a very brief while, I was asked to take one of the so-called "Elite" writing programs. We've covered the basics of this little thing once before, so not really that big a problem there. Anyway, I am told that my attitude towards that project was the problem. Interesting. You see, I had that project forced on me, despite my vocal objections that such not be the case. Now, I understand that I'm really not allowed to pick my spots for the job, but I had to draw a line somewhere!
So I complained and I ranted about just how much I didn't want the project. For someone who's only done that once before (the casino blogs project), I think I deserve to be cut a little slack. Besides, I didn't say anything that I didn't say about all of the "Elite" projects that were thrown my way. First off, I didn't believe in the project in the least, and I certainly didn't feel like I would be able to put up with the client's impossible demands. Whoever has it now, I am told, has easier things to abide by.
Of course, that't can't be the only reason, can it? No way. I may risk sounding like an egotistical bastard by my next statement, but suppose there was something else that prompted this. Like, say the post that will live in Intelligraph infamy? I can't tell if he's ever read it, but if he does, then he's got no right to fire me over what is the truth.
This, naturally, is merely speculation.
The truth is, I might never know the real reason behind my sudden termination. Never have any clue as to why everything about my clearance was processed before I even signed the forced resignation papers. No real reason for my sudden exit, with no forewarning whatsoever. Unnerving, isn't it? Then again, I suppose I should be glad.
Yes, I'm not the least bit angry over this. I'm happy about it.
You see, anyone who's listened to me or has read this blog would know that I've been contemplating leaving for a long, long time now. I was hoping to find work first before getting the Hell out of a bad situation, but they've beaten me to the punch. Not that I mind. Saves me the trouble of having to print a resignation letter and kissing up to the boss' dumbass-ness one more time.
However, something does seem a little odd here. Provided he did read my blog, that may imply a few things. First, he is far too sensitive to take criticism, much less accept the truth when someone shoves it down his throat the way I do. According to what I heard, he actually sent a few people an e-mail that attempted to (lamely) defend himself from what I posted before. Silly course of action, considering the fact that anyone who got that would likely know he was just attempting to recover what little credibility his words left him.
Another thing that one might come to believe after this event is that he's a complete and total idiot. So I spoke the truth and pointed out the flaws in his statements. So I have an actual opinion. So I decided to speak out about how I felt on my personal blog. Am I not entitled to that? Do I not have the right to talk about things that matter to me on my own damn time? So what if my opinion happens to be contradictory to what his perception of his company and employees happens to be? He can't fire me for having an opinion and he can't fire me for what I wrote. There's nothing in the Labor Code or my contract that keeps me from speaking out that way. I'd complain and go to the Department of Labor and Employment (DOLE), but that's not worth the time. There'd be no point to doing that.
Howeve,r if he did read that post, what does that say? He monitors each and every little detail of what his employees do? Does he not trust us? Or does he just pretend to work all day long, but in reality he's just checking out the websites we go to? What doe she really do all day? Monitor his writers like "Big Brother" from 1984? That'd be an interesting notion, but it would explain his utter lack of knowledge of how the trenches of his company actually work. It also implies that he does not respect the privacy of his employees, but that's an entirely different issue.
So, again the question, where do I go from here?
That's what has me just a tad bit worried. I'm not entirely sure. I'm thinking that a job in China might be a good idea, but then again, I don't want to have to deal with Chinese people. It isn't the people so much that bother me as the language. Of course, there is that QA job I've been considering for a month or so now.
Ah, but I can worry about that later.
I'm finally free.
You see, as the title above implies, I've just been fired. This, of course, really shouldn't come as a surprise. Now, here's what I managed to grasp of the situation and how things ended up the way they are at this exact moment.
I am told I have an attitude problem. No disputing that. However, from what I've managed to understand (and believe me, you can come to understand quite a lot when you know what to look for), this is not because of my general personality. No, my abrasive, brash, take-no-prisoners, whiny, annoying demeanor isn't exactly the cause for my untimely dismissal. In reality, what happened is more like them taking issue with my adamant objections to a particular project.
You see, for a very brief while, I was asked to take one of the so-called "Elite" writing programs. We've covered the basics of this little thing once before, so not really that big a problem there. Anyway, I am told that my attitude towards that project was the problem. Interesting. You see, I had that project forced on me, despite my vocal objections that such not be the case. Now, I understand that I'm really not allowed to pick my spots for the job, but I had to draw a line somewhere!
So I complained and I ranted about just how much I didn't want the project. For someone who's only done that once before (the casino blogs project), I think I deserve to be cut a little slack. Besides, I didn't say anything that I didn't say about all of the "Elite" projects that were thrown my way. First off, I didn't believe in the project in the least, and I certainly didn't feel like I would be able to put up with the client's impossible demands. Whoever has it now, I am told, has easier things to abide by.
Of course, that't can't be the only reason, can it? No way. I may risk sounding like an egotistical bastard by my next statement, but suppose there was something else that prompted this. Like, say the post that will live in Intelligraph infamy? I can't tell if he's ever read it, but if he does, then he's got no right to fire me over what is the truth.
This, naturally, is merely speculation.
The truth is, I might never know the real reason behind my sudden termination. Never have any clue as to why everything about my clearance was processed before I even signed the forced resignation papers. No real reason for my sudden exit, with no forewarning whatsoever. Unnerving, isn't it? Then again, I suppose I should be glad.
Yes, I'm not the least bit angry over this. I'm happy about it.
You see, anyone who's listened to me or has read this blog would know that I've been contemplating leaving for a long, long time now. I was hoping to find work first before getting the Hell out of a bad situation, but they've beaten me to the punch. Not that I mind. Saves me the trouble of having to print a resignation letter and kissing up to the boss' dumbass-ness one more time.
However, something does seem a little odd here. Provided he did read my blog, that may imply a few things. First, he is far too sensitive to take criticism, much less accept the truth when someone shoves it down his throat the way I do. According to what I heard, he actually sent a few people an e-mail that attempted to (lamely) defend himself from what I posted before. Silly course of action, considering the fact that anyone who got that would likely know he was just attempting to recover what little credibility his words left him.
Another thing that one might come to believe after this event is that he's a complete and total idiot. So I spoke the truth and pointed out the flaws in his statements. So I have an actual opinion. So I decided to speak out about how I felt on my personal blog. Am I not entitled to that? Do I not have the right to talk about things that matter to me on my own damn time? So what if my opinion happens to be contradictory to what his perception of his company and employees happens to be? He can't fire me for having an opinion and he can't fire me for what I wrote. There's nothing in the Labor Code or my contract that keeps me from speaking out that way. I'd complain and go to the Department of Labor and Employment (DOLE), but that's not worth the time. There'd be no point to doing that.
Howeve,r if he did read that post, what does that say? He monitors each and every little detail of what his employees do? Does he not trust us? Or does he just pretend to work all day long, but in reality he's just checking out the websites we go to? What doe she really do all day? Monitor his writers like "Big Brother" from 1984? That'd be an interesting notion, but it would explain his utter lack of knowledge of how the trenches of his company actually work. It also implies that he does not respect the privacy of his employees, but that's an entirely different issue.
So, again the question, where do I go from here?
That's what has me just a tad bit worried. I'm not entirely sure. I'm thinking that a job in China might be a good idea, but then again, I don't want to have to deal with Chinese people. It isn't the people so much that bother me as the language. Of course, there is that QA job I've been considering for a month or so now.
Ah, but I can worry about that later.
I'm finally free.
Needs And Wants
Life, in one simple word, sucks. However, after much internal deliberation, I've come to finally set down a few things that can make my life better. Yes, folks, this is another instance of me being lazy and putting up a list, rather than an actual post. Deal with it, you bastards.
I need:
1. Better back support at work. My chair is falling apart. I lean on it enough and I can hear the screws holding the back in place starting to pop out. You'd think with all the money the office saves on screwing the writers (and the DES crew too) out of how much they damn well ought to be getting, they'd be able to afford half-decent chairs at least. But no! They have to go out and buy the ones that start to fall apart the moment you put even the slightest amount of real pressure on them.
2. Better pay. Let's face it, I have a life to maintain. Okay, more like a life to actually acquire, but that's beside the point here. The fact is, I get paid to deal with a lot of crap. I won't dispute that. I do actually get cash twice a month for putting up with a lot of crap from the office. However, there's a difference between putting up with crap and being drowned in it.
3. A DSL connection at home. Because quite frankly, I need a reason to not use the office's Internet connection so much. If I had a half-decent Internet connection at home, this would not be an issue and I'd have more time to spend on my fiction. Cecilia & Mint is going to be finished, regardless of events in my personal life that have tossed it around. Yes, I need a better connection. Though it is getting nowhere near my trusty laptop and friend, old Sakura.
4. A boss who knows what his employees are doing. I had this once, back in Ambergris and e-PLDT. The people running the show (no, I don't mean my immediate supervisors) knew what the people working the trenches felt, because they were there too.
5. To never see another thrice-damned carnation for the rest of my life!
I want:
1. A new laptop and PDA. Because it is time for an upgrade, even though Sakura (my laptop) and Kotonoha (my PDA) are still reliable and perform well enough for my purposes.
2. The second season of the Haruhi Suzumiya series, the anime version of School Days to follow the "Conclusion of Blood" ending, and a fully-translated 9th book for the Haruhi Suzumiya novels.
3. A better social life than I have right now. Particularly since someone very special to me is going to go the way of the dinosaurs very soon. Rest in peace, my dear. I'll finish your -- nay -- our story for you.
4. Revenge.
I need:
1. Better back support at work. My chair is falling apart. I lean on it enough and I can hear the screws holding the back in place starting to pop out. You'd think with all the money the office saves on screwing the writers (and the DES crew too) out of how much they damn well ought to be getting, they'd be able to afford half-decent chairs at least. But no! They have to go out and buy the ones that start to fall apart the moment you put even the slightest amount of real pressure on them.
2. Better pay. Let's face it, I have a life to maintain. Okay, more like a life to actually acquire, but that's beside the point here. The fact is, I get paid to deal with a lot of crap. I won't dispute that. I do actually get cash twice a month for putting up with a lot of crap from the office. However, there's a difference between putting up with crap and being drowned in it.
3. A DSL connection at home. Because quite frankly, I need a reason to not use the office's Internet connection so much. If I had a half-decent Internet connection at home, this would not be an issue and I'd have more time to spend on my fiction. Cecilia & Mint is going to be finished, regardless of events in my personal life that have tossed it around. Yes, I need a better connection. Though it is getting nowhere near my trusty laptop and friend, old Sakura.
4. A boss who knows what his employees are doing. I had this once, back in Ambergris and e-PLDT. The people running the show (no, I don't mean my immediate supervisors) knew what the people working the trenches felt, because they were there too.
5. To never see another thrice-damned carnation for the rest of my life!
I want:
1. A new laptop and PDA. Because it is time for an upgrade, even though Sakura (my laptop) and Kotonoha (my PDA) are still reliable and perform well enough for my purposes.
2. The second season of the Haruhi Suzumiya series, the anime version of School Days to follow the "Conclusion of Blood" ending, and a fully-translated 9th book for the Haruhi Suzumiya novels.
3. A better social life than I have right now. Particularly since someone very special to me is going to go the way of the dinosaurs very soon. Rest in peace, my dear. I'll finish your -- nay -- our story for you.
4. Revenge.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
BS From The Boss
My boss at the moment of this writing, Gene Cruz, is full of bullshit. Despite his supposed academic abilities, he's an utter and complete fool. He seems to have no concept of what the nature of the work we have actually is. He's also living in a well-made glass house of a pipe dream that all of his employees actually enjoy what he's putting them through. Of course, there's the delusion he maintains that his opinion actually matters to the writers, particularly when he seems to lack the basic faculties to understand that half of the stuff he prattles on about is utterly irrelevant or, in my case, something I've thought of before, implemented in my work, and milked dry.
For example, back when I was maintaining the casino blogs project, I was up for a promotion. It was a promotion I did not want, mainly because it would have thrust me into a position where the nature of the work was not what I had come to specialize in. Anyway, here's a rough transcript of part of the conversation. One that, for me, shows off his utter incompetence.
Me: I've been doing it for so long that...I've started to weave personal opinions and experiences into it. I'm turning it into a long narrative, one that has recurring characters and pieces, but eventually, I'm going to run dry of gambling-related topics and anecdotes.
Dumbass Boss Gene Cruz: Well, the casino blogs project really might delve into the realm of creative writing. You have the freedom to adapt the entry as you see fit, provided you don't steer too far from the intended topic. You can make the entries anecdotes and stories, not jsut articles on strategy and statistics. It's fairly easy, right?
Me: I realized that early on and I've been doing that for so long that I'm out of ideas. You can only re-write the statement "there is no way to beat roulette" in so many ways before you run out of ways to say it in the English language.
Dumbass Boss Gene Cruz: You should implement what I've said. It will help you produce better output for the project.
I'm inclined to believe he has no idea at all what he's talking about.
Of course, he recently spread around (through our editors) a little e-mail that contained some bits of "wisdom" on how to write better. A 10-point blog entry, it would seem. Well, being the good employee that I am, I've decided provide my own counterpoints, just to hammer home how stupid our idiotic boss can be.
First Point: Create valuable content.
This can't be done. Primarily because to create valuable content, you actually have to view what you're writing as more than a means to an end. In this case, the "end" is a paycheck. Sure, once in a while we'd get a project we genuinely care about and like, but how often does that happen? As long as we're not writing for something we genuinely like, we'll never produce truly "valuable" content.
Also, even if we can write about something well enough for it to look good, that doesn't mean it can be considered valuable. The fact is, the nature of the projects is that there is one detail or another that limits just how "valuable" we can make it. Clients might have ridiculous requests, like keeping to a "3 short sentences per paragraph" rule, which would tend to cut ideas and points up, resulting in a fragmented piece. Besides that, our general lack of enthusiasm on the topics makes it difficult to really come up with any real value to the work.
Second Point: Create original content.
Considering that he ripped all these points (and the subsequent explanations for them) off of someone else's blog without citing the source of it (which happens to be Steve Pavlina's website), I find this point rather ironic.
Anyway, due to the nature of the work, there is no such thing as original content. You see, since we generally have no idea what we're writing about most of the time, we rely on outside sources. We rely on other people's work. Sure, we re-write it and present fresh information and mesh stuff together. Sure, the machines and the software don't pick up on the little things that betray the true source of the piece. However, any sane writer who even has the slightest knowledge of the way life works will tell you that there is no such thing as truly original content, aside from one's personal experiences. And honestly, how often do our personal experiences come into play in our line of work?
I'll answer that. Never.
Third Point: Create timeless content.
Uhuh. Impossible. Why? Because half the time, we're marketing shit to people. From acne treatments to cars, from how to buy motor homes to where to find angel investors. All of this, obviously, is bound by the whims and fancies of time. Nothing that we've written about so far is truly permanent. Casino house rules can change on a whim. Styles used in making beds and bedspreads can come and go. Detoxification measures in Nebraska and Montana can change to suit the times. Exchange rates and sales patterns can be dropped and altered in a snap.
You can't create timeless content if the very nature of what you're writing about is time-bound. To create timeless content, we'd have to write on things that are constant, regardless of events. Things like human nature, the human condition, philosophy, and maybe even theology. Marketing and sales and that sort of stuff? At some point, even the greatest marketing campaign will fade away into obscurity. Even the biggest, most widespread fad will become little more than a memory.
Fourth Point: Let your audience see the real you.
Again, this is utterly impossible. We're hired to pretend to know a lot about things we generally have very little knowledge on. What we're being asked to do is to outright lie about what we know. Sure, bits and pieces of who we really are might come across in the writing style or the choice of words but, ultimately, we're engaged in a web of pretensions and lies. Also, the constraints of the project limit just how much of ourselves we can show to the audience. Again, style might betray bits and pieces about us, but not everything.
Freedom to express is what is needed to show people who and what you are. Unfortunately, no project ever really lets you show off everything about yourself. The closest we've gotten would be the blog projects, but those have a fundamental flaw. You're either pretending to be someone else when you write the blog, or you're pretending to be doing something that you're not.
Fifth Point: Write what is true for you, and learn to live with the consequences.
See above.
How can we write what is true for us when we write little more than facts and information that someone else has presented? Most projects leave no room for personal opinion or analysis of the situation. It's straight-up information. I'll concede that the blog projects do give a stretch of freedom for this, but I find it difficult to comprehend how we can determine something we say to be true for us if we've never seen or experienced it firsthand. Yes, you might claim that card counting is the way to beat blackjack, but how can you really believe that without seeing it in action?
Sixth Point: Treat your visitors like real human beings.
This actually counters what he tells us. For the most part, he wants us to write the articles in such a way that more and more people will be enticed to read. That's a problem, as that reduces people to being little more than statistics. You probably know the old adage "kill one person, it's a tragedy, but kill a million people, and it's a statistic," don't you? Same concept applies. Sure, you might want to write something that'll reach out to others, but since we're simply relaying information for the most part, there's not much of a point to it, is there? We're reducing the readers to numbers because that's what the client asks of us. Rake in the numbers and ignore the "personal touch." Yes, there is a difference between what the output becomes after the client's orders are fulfilled and actual, honest-to-goodness caring. I used to work Dell Customer Care. Believe me when I say I know the difference. And believe me when I say that client guidelines and office guidelines destroy most of a writer's "personal touch."
If nothing else, let me give you an example.
This is something I wrote for work, about restoring vintage cars.
Now, compare to Angel of Temptation, which I wrote as a personal piece.
See the difference?
Sharp eyes can tell I feel strongly about the latter piece, while the first one was little more than something I needed to do away with. For the latter piece, I actually cared what people would think about it and I reached out to write it with the express intention of making something good. I might have intended that for the former piece, but it doesn't come across. Mainly because my passion for writing refused to extend to what I had to write about.
Final Point: If you forget the first nine suggestions (yes, there were originally ten of these things), just focus on genuinely helping people, and the rest will take care of itself.
I won't dispute this. This statement is entirely true. However, this puts us at a dilemma. Do we focus on meeting client expectations, sacrificing things we know might be of help to a reader, or do we focus on the reader, and end up screwing ourselves for not following a client's instructions? For my officemates, I suggest you take a bit to think on that. If we consider our work as just what we have to do to get paid, then the desire to help others isn't there and, thus, we produce sub-par work. Of course, to desire to help others, we have to actually care about what we're doing and, the way things are, most of us really don't care anymore. Do we?
Now, please note that I am not disparaging Steve Pavlina's work. He's an excellent writer and he makes very good points. In fact, if I wasn't so Cthulhu-damned irreverent and insane, I'd probably apply his advice to my work. Anyway, where was I again? Oh yeah, my boss' incredible display of hubris. I just couldn't stand idly by and let Gene Cruz, dumbass beyond compare, both plagiarize and misuse Pavlina's work. After drilling us about "quality" and "originality," our boss has some nerve doing this.
Ah, the foul stench of hypocrisy in the morning...
Now, to lighten the mood...a picture from School Days.
For example, back when I was maintaining the casino blogs project, I was up for a promotion. It was a promotion I did not want, mainly because it would have thrust me into a position where the nature of the work was not what I had come to specialize in. Anyway, here's a rough transcript of part of the conversation. One that, for me, shows off his utter incompetence.
Me: I've been doing it for so long that...I've started to weave personal opinions and experiences into it. I'm turning it into a long narrative, one that has recurring characters and pieces, but eventually, I'm going to run dry of gambling-related topics and anecdotes.
Dumbass Boss Gene Cruz: Well, the casino blogs project really might delve into the realm of creative writing. You have the freedom to adapt the entry as you see fit, provided you don't steer too far from the intended topic. You can make the entries anecdotes and stories, not jsut articles on strategy and statistics. It's fairly easy, right?
Me: I realized that early on and I've been doing that for so long that I'm out of ideas. You can only re-write the statement "there is no way to beat roulette" in so many ways before you run out of ways to say it in the English language.
Dumbass Boss Gene Cruz: You should implement what I've said. It will help you produce better output for the project.
I'm inclined to believe he has no idea at all what he's talking about.
Of course, he recently spread around (through our editors) a little e-mail that contained some bits of "wisdom" on how to write better. A 10-point blog entry, it would seem. Well, being the good employee that I am, I've decided provide my own counterpoints, just to hammer home how stupid our idiotic boss can be.
First Point: Create valuable content.
This can't be done. Primarily because to create valuable content, you actually have to view what you're writing as more than a means to an end. In this case, the "end" is a paycheck. Sure, once in a while we'd get a project we genuinely care about and like, but how often does that happen? As long as we're not writing for something we genuinely like, we'll never produce truly "valuable" content.
Also, even if we can write about something well enough for it to look good, that doesn't mean it can be considered valuable. The fact is, the nature of the projects is that there is one detail or another that limits just how "valuable" we can make it. Clients might have ridiculous requests, like keeping to a "3 short sentences per paragraph" rule, which would tend to cut ideas and points up, resulting in a fragmented piece. Besides that, our general lack of enthusiasm on the topics makes it difficult to really come up with any real value to the work.
Second Point: Create original content.
Considering that he ripped all these points (and the subsequent explanations for them) off of someone else's blog without citing the source of it (which happens to be Steve Pavlina's website), I find this point rather ironic.
Anyway, due to the nature of the work, there is no such thing as original content. You see, since we generally have no idea what we're writing about most of the time, we rely on outside sources. We rely on other people's work. Sure, we re-write it and present fresh information and mesh stuff together. Sure, the machines and the software don't pick up on the little things that betray the true source of the piece. However, any sane writer who even has the slightest knowledge of the way life works will tell you that there is no such thing as truly original content, aside from one's personal experiences. And honestly, how often do our personal experiences come into play in our line of work?
I'll answer that. Never.
Third Point: Create timeless content.
Uhuh. Impossible. Why? Because half the time, we're marketing shit to people. From acne treatments to cars, from how to buy motor homes to where to find angel investors. All of this, obviously, is bound by the whims and fancies of time. Nothing that we've written about so far is truly permanent. Casino house rules can change on a whim. Styles used in making beds and bedspreads can come and go. Detoxification measures in Nebraska and Montana can change to suit the times. Exchange rates and sales patterns can be dropped and altered in a snap.
You can't create timeless content if the very nature of what you're writing about is time-bound. To create timeless content, we'd have to write on things that are constant, regardless of events. Things like human nature, the human condition, philosophy, and maybe even theology. Marketing and sales and that sort of stuff? At some point, even the greatest marketing campaign will fade away into obscurity. Even the biggest, most widespread fad will become little more than a memory.
Fourth Point: Let your audience see the real you.
Again, this is utterly impossible. We're hired to pretend to know a lot about things we generally have very little knowledge on. What we're being asked to do is to outright lie about what we know. Sure, bits and pieces of who we really are might come across in the writing style or the choice of words but, ultimately, we're engaged in a web of pretensions and lies. Also, the constraints of the project limit just how much of ourselves we can show to the audience. Again, style might betray bits and pieces about us, but not everything.
Freedom to express is what is needed to show people who and what you are. Unfortunately, no project ever really lets you show off everything about yourself. The closest we've gotten would be the blog projects, but those have a fundamental flaw. You're either pretending to be someone else when you write the blog, or you're pretending to be doing something that you're not.
Fifth Point: Write what is true for you, and learn to live with the consequences.
See above.
How can we write what is true for us when we write little more than facts and information that someone else has presented? Most projects leave no room for personal opinion or analysis of the situation. It's straight-up information. I'll concede that the blog projects do give a stretch of freedom for this, but I find it difficult to comprehend how we can determine something we say to be true for us if we've never seen or experienced it firsthand. Yes, you might claim that card counting is the way to beat blackjack, but how can you really believe that without seeing it in action?
Sixth Point: Treat your visitors like real human beings.
This actually counters what he tells us. For the most part, he wants us to write the articles in such a way that more and more people will be enticed to read. That's a problem, as that reduces people to being little more than statistics. You probably know the old adage "kill one person, it's a tragedy, but kill a million people, and it's a statistic," don't you? Same concept applies. Sure, you might want to write something that'll reach out to others, but since we're simply relaying information for the most part, there's not much of a point to it, is there? We're reducing the readers to numbers because that's what the client asks of us. Rake in the numbers and ignore the "personal touch." Yes, there is a difference between what the output becomes after the client's orders are fulfilled and actual, honest-to-goodness caring. I used to work Dell Customer Care. Believe me when I say I know the difference. And believe me when I say that client guidelines and office guidelines destroy most of a writer's "personal touch."
If nothing else, let me give you an example.
This is something I wrote for work, about restoring vintage cars.
Now, compare to Angel of Temptation, which I wrote as a personal piece.
See the difference?
Sharp eyes can tell I feel strongly about the latter piece, while the first one was little more than something I needed to do away with. For the latter piece, I actually cared what people would think about it and I reached out to write it with the express intention of making something good. I might have intended that for the former piece, but it doesn't come across. Mainly because my passion for writing refused to extend to what I had to write about.
Final Point: If you forget the first nine suggestions (yes, there were originally ten of these things), just focus on genuinely helping people, and the rest will take care of itself.
I won't dispute this. This statement is entirely true. However, this puts us at a dilemma. Do we focus on meeting client expectations, sacrificing things we know might be of help to a reader, or do we focus on the reader, and end up screwing ourselves for not following a client's instructions? For my officemates, I suggest you take a bit to think on that. If we consider our work as just what we have to do to get paid, then the desire to help others isn't there and, thus, we produce sub-par work. Of course, to desire to help others, we have to actually care about what we're doing and, the way things are, most of us really don't care anymore. Do we?
Now, please note that I am not disparaging Steve Pavlina's work. He's an excellent writer and he makes very good points. In fact, if I wasn't so Cthulhu-damned irreverent and insane, I'd probably apply his advice to my work. Anyway, where was I again? Oh yeah, my boss' incredible display of hubris. I just couldn't stand idly by and let Gene Cruz, dumbass beyond compare, both plagiarize and misuse Pavlina's work. After drilling us about "quality" and "originality," our boss has some nerve doing this.
Ah, the foul stench of hypocrisy in the morning...
Now, to lighten the mood...a picture from School Days.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
School Days
June has come around. That, for the Philippine people, means school is back in session. That means more people crowding the roads and hogging public transportation. More people to cram up the lines to the MRT. More people running for school supplies at every turn in a bookstore. More people to get in my way when I decide to order food from a fast food joint at an inopportune time. Incidentally, my recent discovery of a certain game has a title that, oddly, coincides with this time of year.
School Days.
Wikipedia link for reference.
To quote Wiki:
The game is infamous for its bad endings which are extremely violent, ranging from the killing of one of the other main characters and graphic depictions of suicide.
This is absolutely true, from what little I've played. The other set of endings tend to cover the usual base of typical H-game fare, but the bad endings are really bad. And yet, these scenes (and the events that lead up to them) are also among the most compelling ever seen in any game, even within the confines of the vaunted RPG genre. The last game I played that had this sort of emotional and psychological depth before pulling a scene that screamed "Greek tragedy!" was Fate/Stay Night. Even that seemed a little flawed compared to how School Days treats the characters, though I don't think Matou Sakura (of Fate/Stay Night) is really any less tragic than Katsura Kotonoha in both of her bad endings. Their circumstances are too different to really compare, but they're both endearing and tragic in very similar ways.
Now, this might be little more than personal preference, but I find Kotonoha more compelling than Sakura. She seems much more human in how she slowly breaks down because the main character has betrayed her. Prior to that emotional trauma, she's actually quite warm and likable. She's really the type of girl you'd love to take home to show the folks and end up marrying. Why anyone would pick Sekai (who can be annoying in contrast, but isn't so bad when considered on her own) over her is a mystery, aside from the chance to see what might be the most magnificently done scene in the whole game. Yes, despite my affection for the character, I can't help but love the "Conclusion of Blood" ending that...well, you'll see.
As if her sweet personality wasn't endearing enough, we also learn (through the buggy alternate universe/prequel Summer Days) that Kotonoha-sama is quite skilled in iai-jutsu.
Now, I haven't had the time to really play this game that much. I've only seen the ending I linked above, one of the good endings with Kotonoha-sama, and one of two (or three, I don't recall) harem endings. I have got to find more time to play this game, honestly.
I am also eagerly, eagerly awaiting the anime version that is due to come out in July. I am hoping that they'll go for the magnificence of the "Conclusion of Blood," but it'd be hard to see that happening without going to graphic territory. The bulk of the trauma that causes Kotonoha-sama to change and become utterly insane involves sex. Changing that might be possible, but that was handled poorly for the anime rendition of Fate/Stay Night, so I fear I might just be disappointed. However, it would be possible to go for one of the other endings instead and keep the sex out, but that'd be less entertaining a way to end things. Besides, that might involve an ending with Sekai, which I (and, I suspect, many others) would not approve of.
I'll take a Setsuna ending as a compromise, however.
Or, they might decide to go with an ending specifically for the anime.
I'd love to see how that turns out.
Anyway, back to work.
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
The Best Laid Plans
Bored again. Nothing new.
Anyway, I'm predicting that I'll be having a lot of time to myself in the next two weeks. For a variety of reasons, not least of which would be some people very dear to me being far, far away from me for that period of time. So, what do I do in that time?
Well, aside from work, there's always Cecilia & Mint.
But I do think it is high time that I learned how to use Ren'Py, make my own game out of the damn thing. I tried once, but I never had much along the lines of artistic ability, or the talent needed to quickly understand long lines of programming code. Even so, I think it is about time I overcame those problems. At the very least, develop a kinetic novel or visual novel. I'm vaguely certain I can convert the story of Jigoku-hime into a visual novel. I might even try to have multiple endings.
As for work, eh, I get by. That's pretty much all I do there nowadays. I don't like the work, but you do what you have to.
Anyway, I mean to play a few more games while I'm at it.
On the current list is:
5. MegaMari
4. Shoujo Attack!
3. Perfect Cherry Blossom
2. Final Fantasy II
1. Maribato
Anyway, I'm predicting that I'll be having a lot of time to myself in the next two weeks. For a variety of reasons, not least of which would be some people very dear to me being far, far away from me for that period of time. So, what do I do in that time?
Well, aside from work, there's always Cecilia & Mint.
But I do think it is high time that I learned how to use Ren'Py, make my own game out of the damn thing. I tried once, but I never had much along the lines of artistic ability, or the talent needed to quickly understand long lines of programming code. Even so, I think it is about time I overcame those problems. At the very least, develop a kinetic novel or visual novel. I'm vaguely certain I can convert the story of Jigoku-hime into a visual novel. I might even try to have multiple endings.
As for work, eh, I get by. That's pretty much all I do there nowadays. I don't like the work, but you do what you have to.
Anyway, I mean to play a few more games while I'm at it.
On the current list is:
5. MegaMari
4. Shoujo Attack!
3. Perfect Cherry Blossom
2. Final Fantasy II
1. Maribato
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Remembering High School
You ought to know that I hate what my boss is making me write if I'm posting entries into this blog on a daily basis.
Anyway...
I ran into an old HS friend last night. We went through the usual ritual of asking how the other's life was going, where he worked, and all that. Nothing out of the ordinary. He even suggested (just like every other HS friend I run into, not to mention college friend) that we (by that, I mean pretty much anyone from HS we could find) get together sometime, to reminisce and catch up and shit.
And for the first time in a long, long time, I'm now wondering what happened to the people I went to HS with. Well, not all of them, mind you.
You see, I can be very, very picky about the people I decide to spend time with unless I have no other choice. I tried to avoid people that I didn't think I'd get along with, which somehow ended up being most of the male population of my HS batch. That was fine by me, but I wasn't exactly a ladies' man, either. I think part of me took pride and actively tried to be the class outcast, the one that didn't fit in with any group. No, that's different from the class "chameleon," the one that can make himself fit in anywhere.
I wasn't part of the 'N' students (in my HS' terms, these would be the geeks and nerds of your typical American HS), even when I was in that class. I was creative then, but I lacked both the drive and the academic brilliance that the rest of them had. Books were my thing, but not the books that we had to read. Facts and knowledge were of interest to me, but not the kind that they tell you about in your typical HS setting. I guess part of me always believed I'd never actually need any of it once I got out of the educational arena.
When I left the "cream class," as they were called, I didn't fit in either. I knew a few people on the outside, maybe even a few casual acquaintances, but nothing much changed. The stress of being the best and that prevalent feel of being not-up-to-standards may have lessened, but I wasn't too fond of the company either. Not to say that I hated them or my previous classmates, but I didn't think I'd form any really lasting bonds with any of them either.
Probably the reason for my deciding not to show up for the prom my junior year. I didn't have a reason to, really. I never really cared much for social gatherings. I admit, I was tempted when a few friends asked me to join in accompanying the Australian visitors, but I passed on it. I didn't have anything better to do, but doing nothing seemed like a better alternative to going. Funny, isn't it?
No, unlike most folks, I was sure I wouldn't miss HS. Sure, I knew a few people and I liked spending time with some of the smarter girls of the class. I had a few guys I spent time with, but generally avoided the rest of them. But I enjoyed being the oddball, the one nobody ever really got close enough to understand completely and implicitly. It was...fun.
I managed to keep in contact with a few of them for a while, but nothing serious. A text message here and there, the occasional e-mail, but those faded out in time. Either I didn't want to make first contact, or I just didn't find the time to maintain the lines of communication. I honestly don't know where any of them are anymore, except for the ones that I bump into at the most unusual times.
One thing that irks me about the people that knew me in HS was that there's a near-consensus among the ones that knew me best that I was...well, I was smart. Not book-smart, like Daphne or Joanna or whoever, and not street-smart either, like a number of students in my batch. The prevalent idea seems to be that I was mentally gifted and talented, which I dispute to this day. There is simply no basis for that assumption.
Sure, I got into the cream class, but I dropped out after the second year. Numbers were never my thing, and I didn't quite fit into the atmosphere of academic excellence that the class seemed to demand of those in it. My grades weren't spectacular, either. I was just a bit above the average in terms of academics, but I never really managed to actually outdo any of the more exceptional members of the batch. No, I was being lazy, which I thoroughly enjoyed. Well, that, and I was starting to make note of behavioral patterns and making assessments. My methodology for such was similar to how a general might size up a threat to his army, but I never made plans to use the weaknesses and flaws I saw. I just noted them and filed them away in my head.
In any case, HS was thoroughly frustrating and weird for me. But, well, I can't help but miss a person or two from the batch and I wouldn't mind seeing them again. I don't seek to rekindle old ties and establish friendships, mind you. I'm just...curious to see how some of them had turned out, to see how right I was in my assessment of them. Attempting to pursue some kind of romantic relationship is out of the question, as well. I am, by no means, a prize catch. I've resigned myself to the fate of being the straight best friend to practically every girl I get close to.
Very interesting. Yes, a small-scale HS reunion would be very interesting indeed. So long as the ones I don't want to see again (practically every guy in the whole batch, along with a number of girls) aren't there, I think I won't have any problems.
Eh, that's enough nostalgia for today.
I've been playing Touhou games recently. Very hard, but very addicting. I'm particularly fond of MegaMari and Embodiment of Scarlet Devil. I haven't had my fingers twitch to badly in a long time. Thankfully, they're not getting me to the point where I can't stop playing long enough to continue with my writing.
Cecilia & Mint is doing well, with me still finishing up on Chapter 10. Jigoku-hime is still in the "planning" stages, with the basic concept and cast set in stone. I just need a little more time to get the plot (or lack of it) settled upon.
I've also decided upon something.
Despite five chapters already being up there, I no longer intend to update the copy of Cecilia & Mint on Fictionpress. From here on out, there will be only two places to officially get the upcoming chapters of the story. Either the Tuxedo Jack forums, or from me. If you're getting it from the forums, then that means you've at least heard of me and my escapades as a fanfic writer. If you get the zip folders of the chapters from me, that means I know you personally. Why have I decided upon this? I have my reasons.
Anyway, time to eat lunch. I'm hungry.
Anyway...
I ran into an old HS friend last night. We went through the usual ritual of asking how the other's life was going, where he worked, and all that. Nothing out of the ordinary. He even suggested (just like every other HS friend I run into, not to mention college friend) that we (by that, I mean pretty much anyone from HS we could find) get together sometime, to reminisce and catch up and shit.
And for the first time in a long, long time, I'm now wondering what happened to the people I went to HS with. Well, not all of them, mind you.
You see, I can be very, very picky about the people I decide to spend time with unless I have no other choice. I tried to avoid people that I didn't think I'd get along with, which somehow ended up being most of the male population of my HS batch. That was fine by me, but I wasn't exactly a ladies' man, either. I think part of me took pride and actively tried to be the class outcast, the one that didn't fit in with any group. No, that's different from the class "chameleon," the one that can make himself fit in anywhere.
I wasn't part of the 'N' students (in my HS' terms, these would be the geeks and nerds of your typical American HS), even when I was in that class. I was creative then, but I lacked both the drive and the academic brilliance that the rest of them had. Books were my thing, but not the books that we had to read. Facts and knowledge were of interest to me, but not the kind that they tell you about in your typical HS setting. I guess part of me always believed I'd never actually need any of it once I got out of the educational arena.
When I left the "cream class," as they were called, I didn't fit in either. I knew a few people on the outside, maybe even a few casual acquaintances, but nothing much changed. The stress of being the best and that prevalent feel of being not-up-to-standards may have lessened, but I wasn't too fond of the company either. Not to say that I hated them or my previous classmates, but I didn't think I'd form any really lasting bonds with any of them either.
Probably the reason for my deciding not to show up for the prom my junior year. I didn't have a reason to, really. I never really cared much for social gatherings. I admit, I was tempted when a few friends asked me to join in accompanying the Australian visitors, but I passed on it. I didn't have anything better to do, but doing nothing seemed like a better alternative to going. Funny, isn't it?
No, unlike most folks, I was sure I wouldn't miss HS. Sure, I knew a few people and I liked spending time with some of the smarter girls of the class. I had a few guys I spent time with, but generally avoided the rest of them. But I enjoyed being the oddball, the one nobody ever really got close enough to understand completely and implicitly. It was...fun.
I managed to keep in contact with a few of them for a while, but nothing serious. A text message here and there, the occasional e-mail, but those faded out in time. Either I didn't want to make first contact, or I just didn't find the time to maintain the lines of communication. I honestly don't know where any of them are anymore, except for the ones that I bump into at the most unusual times.
One thing that irks me about the people that knew me in HS was that there's a near-consensus among the ones that knew me best that I was...well, I was smart. Not book-smart, like Daphne or Joanna or whoever, and not street-smart either, like a number of students in my batch. The prevalent idea seems to be that I was mentally gifted and talented, which I dispute to this day. There is simply no basis for that assumption.
Sure, I got into the cream class, but I dropped out after the second year. Numbers were never my thing, and I didn't quite fit into the atmosphere of academic excellence that the class seemed to demand of those in it. My grades weren't spectacular, either. I was just a bit above the average in terms of academics, but I never really managed to actually outdo any of the more exceptional members of the batch. No, I was being lazy, which I thoroughly enjoyed. Well, that, and I was starting to make note of behavioral patterns and making assessments. My methodology for such was similar to how a general might size up a threat to his army, but I never made plans to use the weaknesses and flaws I saw. I just noted them and filed them away in my head.
In any case, HS was thoroughly frustrating and weird for me. But, well, I can't help but miss a person or two from the batch and I wouldn't mind seeing them again. I don't seek to rekindle old ties and establish friendships, mind you. I'm just...curious to see how some of them had turned out, to see how right I was in my assessment of them. Attempting to pursue some kind of romantic relationship is out of the question, as well. I am, by no means, a prize catch. I've resigned myself to the fate of being the straight best friend to practically every girl I get close to.
Very interesting. Yes, a small-scale HS reunion would be very interesting indeed. So long as the ones I don't want to see again (practically every guy in the whole batch, along with a number of girls) aren't there, I think I won't have any problems.
Eh, that's enough nostalgia for today.
I've been playing Touhou games recently. Very hard, but very addicting. I'm particularly fond of MegaMari and Embodiment of Scarlet Devil. I haven't had my fingers twitch to badly in a long time. Thankfully, they're not getting me to the point where I can't stop playing long enough to continue with my writing.
Cecilia & Mint is doing well, with me still finishing up on Chapter 10. Jigoku-hime is still in the "planning" stages, with the basic concept and cast set in stone. I just need a little more time to get the plot (or lack of it) settled upon.
I've also decided upon something.
Despite five chapters already being up there, I no longer intend to update the copy of Cecilia & Mint on Fictionpress. From here on out, there will be only two places to officially get the upcoming chapters of the story. Either the Tuxedo Jack forums, or from me. If you're getting it from the forums, then that means you've at least heard of me and my escapades as a fanfic writer. If you get the zip folders of the chapters from me, that means I know you personally. Why have I decided upon this? I have my reasons.
Anyway, time to eat lunch. I'm hungry.
Monday, June 04, 2007
Decisions, Decisions
First off, if you pay attention to the places I link to, you'd realize that I've just deleted all my Photobucket subfolders, save for Avatars. Nobody really pays attention to the damn things anyway, so I figured I'd get rid of them. I'd make the appropriate edits to the linked images over the course of this blog, but I'm too lazy. With that done, let's get to the meat of things, shall we? Besides, it isn't like there was anything of extreme importance in those folders.
I know for a fact that Cecilia & Mint is way too damn long. The story is already pushing over 100 pages, and I'm only at Chapter 10. I know that the story is too damn slow-paced for some readers. Frankly, for the first time since I started writing fiction, I don't give a damn. This story means a lot more to me than anything else I've written, and is being written without any need for it to fit in with anyone's concept of a good story (except mine) in mind. In other words, while I want to know what other people think about it, it won't affect the flow of the tale on any appreciable level.
However, I am taking the whole "the story's too damn long" notion into consideration in my next planned project: Jigoku-hime. Not much to say about that project at the moment, just that it's not exactly something I ever thought I'd write.
To go off on a tangent here, I realize I only put up one list last entry, even though I said I'd put up two lists. Well, in a belated attempt to rectify that, as well as revisit an old concept from a post made by Kebinu in the TuxedoJack forums, I am listing down the 10 female characters I'd most love to pursue some sort of romantic relationship with. Sex not required.
You'll notice this list neither has pictures (I'll fix that at some point) and also has a drastically different roster from the list I put up in response to Kebinu's post.
10. Urashima Kanako (Love Hina)
9. Sari (Nocturnal Illusion)
8. Toudou Shimako (Maria-sama Ga Miteru)
7. Mint Blancmanche (Galaxy Angel)
6. Matou Sakura (Fate/Stay Night)
5. Maehara Shinobu (Love Hina)
4. Kohaku (Tsukihime)
3. Sakuya (Sister Princess)
2. Ogasawara Sachiko (Maria-sama Ga Miteru)
1. Chikage (Sister Princess)
As mentioned earlier, I might throw in a picture or two at a later date.
Anyway, for now, let me leave you with a nice feel-good image from Battle Royale:
I know for a fact that Cecilia & Mint is way too damn long. The story is already pushing over 100 pages, and I'm only at Chapter 10. I know that the story is too damn slow-paced for some readers. Frankly, for the first time since I started writing fiction, I don't give a damn. This story means a lot more to me than anything else I've written, and is being written without any need for it to fit in with anyone's concept of a good story (except mine) in mind. In other words, while I want to know what other people think about it, it won't affect the flow of the tale on any appreciable level.
However, I am taking the whole "the story's too damn long" notion into consideration in my next planned project: Jigoku-hime. Not much to say about that project at the moment, just that it's not exactly something I ever thought I'd write.
To go off on a tangent here, I realize I only put up one list last entry, even though I said I'd put up two lists. Well, in a belated attempt to rectify that, as well as revisit an old concept from a post made by Kebinu in the TuxedoJack forums, I am listing down the 10 female characters I'd most love to pursue some sort of romantic relationship with. Sex not required.
You'll notice this list neither has pictures (I'll fix that at some point) and also has a drastically different roster from the list I put up in response to Kebinu's post.
10. Urashima Kanako (Love Hina)
9. Sari (Nocturnal Illusion)
8. Toudou Shimako (Maria-sama Ga Miteru)
7. Mint Blancmanche (Galaxy Angel)
6. Matou Sakura (Fate/Stay Night)
5. Maehara Shinobu (Love Hina)
4. Kohaku (Tsukihime)
3. Sakuya (Sister Princess)
2. Ogasawara Sachiko (Maria-sama Ga Miteru)
1. Chikage (Sister Princess)
As mentioned earlier, I might throw in a picture or two at a later date.
Anyway, for now, let me leave you with a nice feel-good image from Battle Royale:
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