My new comic!

Recently Galoot posted a wonderful new comic-making tool, which was just a blast.
I tried it out and this is what came out.



Hope you like it!

Panic

Well, it's official: I've started to freak out. It's been almost four months since Ivy isn't here and I feel miserable and lonely as heck. This is when I miss Ivy the most. With her around, I was NEVER lonely. We would talk and talk till there was nothing good to talk about.

But now I feel like unloading my heart, but nobody wants to listen. Can't really blame them. Listening miserable tales for hours tends to bore anybody.

Feelin' like mopin' a lot

...hope you don't mind.

The thing is, that I've been able to cope a bit better with the fact that Ivy isn't here anymore. But it seems that every time I go to see her at the cemetery, the memories come flodding back.

Did I mention I'm going to see Ivy's final resting place every month? I started going back in January -I just couldn't get myself to go there before that. I try to go in the weekend between the 21st and the 29th of the month.

Why the 21st? Our anniversary was on the 21st of April, but Ivy and me used to celebrate every 21st we were together. And the 29th marks another month that Ivy isn't here.

The cemetery is a very calm place. Her family grave faces a beautiful garden. It helps to ease my heart, which happens to break in a million pieces every single time.

Damn, it's harsh.

I feel lonely and I wanna cry like a little boy

Actually, that sounds so good...

I'm like a wounded puppy

You know how, if you feed a little puppy, he makes you his master?
I've just realized I'm exactly like that.

I tend to develop genuine affection for any woman that is kind to me. I gotta stop confusing compassion with love.

That's why I really have to finish school so I can start going out and meeting people as soon as possible. Then I'll stop obsessing about having somebody in my life.

The trouble with finding a lady for me

I've always been inclined to think poorly of myself, specially in the ladies department. Getting a girl seems like a totally impossible feat for me. I used to blame it on the fact that I am fat, or maybe I didn't dress right. Or maybe I was too ugly to get girls.

But then, I noticed that uglier, worse dressed kids were getting girls. And no, it didn't always mean that they were loaded (although that always helps). It was a self esteem issue, plain and simple.

Other dudes didn't think of themselves as the scum of the earth, so other people didn't either. But I always seem to be thinking something along the lines of 'This shirt makes me look fat', 'I hate my hairdo', 'My beard looks like crap'. And, I mean, that shows. But I don't know how to consciously overcome it. Sometimes, in the right mindset, I am able to forget myself and achieve wonders. But those happenings are scarce.

Ivy helped me not to think about these things, because she was just the perfect woman for me. She was cute and she loved me a lot. She had flaws, as any other human being. But she fulfilled me in ways I can't even begin to describe. I was so fulfilled that I didn't have to worry about how attractive I was cause she was a living proof that I wasn't so bad. One thing I loved about being with Ivy was the fact that I would never have to date again.

But now she's gone and I'm on the dating arena once more. And it doesn't seem pretty.

Lemme clear things up

It's not that I can't get girls at all, 'cause I can. But I have a weird ability to hook-up girls in whom I have no interest whatsoever. The less I want them, the more they want me.

So why don't I just hook up with one of those?? 'Cause it's not about hooking up with anybody. Maybe it was like that at the very beginning, but nowdays I have standards, dammit. The way I see it, any girlfriend I end up having has to have at least as much qualities as Ivy did. It's setting the bar a bit high, but anything less would be a setback.

Tell me whom you're hanging with, and I'll tell you who you are

A lot of people may not want to agree on this thing I'm about to say, but here goes: Mates are status symbols. Trophies. The kind of man or woman you get says a lot about you. The hotter your mate looks, the better off you are.

Because hot-looking mates are hard to come by, it takes a really special person to nail one of them. You may be loaded, or maybe you're hot-looking yourself. Or maybe you have this amazing quality which makes you totally attractive.

Now, being neither hot-looking nor wealthy, and not having any redeeming qualities, I am screwed.

Self improvement

Now just 'cause I'm lame now doesn't mean I plan on staying lame. As soon as I get my degree (which would be some major improvement right there), I want to better myself thoroughly. I'll get dance lessons, and I'll learn Italian and German. I'll go to the gym regularly and eat right. I'll also improve my wardrobe.

Now, if I could only get a personality transplant, I'd be set!!

Blondes

Kzanderallians have an obsession with blondes. Most aspire to be one or to be with one. Me included. It wouldn't really matter, except for the fact that most people around here look like this:



Now that is a problem.

My granny and the speakerphone

I live with my grandmother. Since it's just the two of us in a two-story house built for five, frequently we have to talk out loud:

-SONNIE?
-YEAH?
-COME RIGHT DOWN, DINNER'S READY!!
-WHAT??
-DINNER'S READY!!
-OH. THANK YOU!!

Yelling is fun, but after seven years, it kind of gets tiresome. So the other day, I decided to finally buy a couple of wireless speakerphones I saw at the hardware store.



They're great. You just plug them into a wall socket and they're up and running.

Despite this apparent ease of use, I can't tell you how hard it's been to try to teach her to use the dang things.
Even though it's a very straightforward procedure (press the button to talk, release to listen), she manages to get it wrong most of the time. She forgets to push the button, or she forgets to release it. Of course, it's endearing to see her try.

Hey... guess what? I'm feeling blue again!!

Big surprise, right??

After the whole Midge fiasco, I am forced to face my loneliness once more.
And why don't I go out with some friends?? Well, I can't! I'm working on graduating this semester, remember?

But that's bull. I guess that if I really wanted to go out, I would.
I think I just feel like moping a bit.

Staying away

I've decided to finally let go of Midge. I am tired of pretending, of telling myself I will somehow break thru to her, that she will like me at some point.

I mean, Gawd... she always sits in class as far away as possible from me!
I noticed that a while ago, but I just can't ignore it anymore.

I am angry. Angry at her, because she doesn't want me.
And angry at myself, for even thinking that she could ever want to be with me.
So, enough. No more calls, no more trying to be her friend, nothing.
It's time to focus my energies elsewhere.

I should be thankful with Midge.
She is helping me graduate.

Update

Well, Midge is boyfriend-less, that is for sure.
But everything else is blurry.

She doesn't totally hate me, yet she doesn't want me getting any close to her.
The story of my life.

I had forgotten how good a woman feels

Enter Valy. I've known her for over six years now. She's a friend of my sister's. Then I found out she had a teensy bit of a crush on me, but my sister shooed that away from existence. I think she doesn't think Valy is good for me. Or maybe she doesn't want to mix friends and family. Granted, it could get messy.

For the past six years we've had a really good vibe between us. But since Ivy was around, neither of us did anything about it. But we've kept in touch. We MSN each other and I call her sometimes. and that was it.

But yesterday was different. She goes to the same gym I go to (when I actually go), but we seldom see each other 'cause of my college schedule. She asked me if I was gonna go to the gym, and I told her I was only dropping by just to say hi.

When I got there, she was really kind. Really kind. She sat me down and we talked. She asked me how I was feeling and I told her. I told her about Moonlight Mile, about my anger, and about the sadness that never seems to leave me since Ivy is gone.

Valy was really nice. She patted me on the thigh and held my hand. I thought my heart was gonna burst. Val is really cute. And she was looking at me with those gorgeous green eyes of hers.

It was a really sweet and intimate moment, like we used to have with Ivy. It felt really good.
There is definitely still a vibe there. But I'm afraid. It felt too good. I have to sort out those feelings. Is this too soon??

Plus, I should think twice before making any advances on a friend of my sister's.
It could get messy. My sister isn't too fond of her big brother eyeing her pals.

It ain't over till the fat lady sings

Ready for another chapter in the Midge saga?? Yeah, I wasn't expecting one either.
After my sister told me on Saturday that Midge was spoken for, I was totally miserable but ultimately decided to stay away and go on with my life.

But then, yesterday happened. We were in class and Midge was late. I was trying to pretend like I didn't care she wasn't around. Then she arrived in a rush, her vains popping out of her forehead like they do whenever she has to run somewhere.

Then, the teacher smiled and said, "You know what, I'm gonna have to talk to that boyfriend of yours so that he lets you come in on time."

Midge smiled back and said, "I wish it were as easy as that, but there isn't any boyfriend right now!"

I don't really remember much of what the teacher said afterwards. I guess I was too busy trying not to show how happy those little words had made me.

But wait, there's more

I thought everything was back to what it used to be... but no.

I was having one of my meditative moments, when Midge came by and punched me on the arm while she said something like, "Hey, why the long face?".

I was flabbergasted. She had NEVER touched me before. All I could think was that line from the Will Smith movie, Hitch: "If a woman hits you, that's a good thing." And she did it like three times. And she went up and talked to me about the Infinite SummerBlast, and how she's going to next Saturday's bash (which I was planning to attend)

And... AND... after class was over and I dropped her off at her parking lot, she sat shotgun!! She had never sat shotgun before. I'm not saying it was a deliberate thing, but it happened and that's what I'm focusing on.

So, last night I was driving on cloud nine all the way home.

Death of a phone

I was talking to my sister and my phone fell on my toenail.
Have you any idea of how painful that can be?

Well, I wish I could tell you what happened next, but I can't.
I think I had a blind-rage episode, can't really say.

Last thing I remember was a furious pain climbing thru my nervous system, reaching my cerebelum. Then, blank.

When I came to, I had a million pieces of green plastic in front of me.
Then I started having brief flashes of myself shouting obscenities and smashing my phone to bits.

So now I need to get me a new phone. But man, smashing the old one felt good!

Comments: the switch

I finally decided to switch from Haloscan's to Blogger's comment feature. I liked a lot of things about Haloscan's comments, except for the fact that you have to pay $15 for them. If you don't pay, any comment older than 4 months will be hidden and you won't be able to see them till you hand over the cash.

Despicable.

However, I'm thinking about shelling out the cash anyway, so I can reactivate my Haloscan comments and then rewrite them over at Blogger. It'll be expensive and boring, but dammit, I owe it to my fans.

Yes, the two of you.

Movie of the week

Have you seen it?

Moonlight Mile is the story of a guy -Joe- whose fiance dies a little while before the wedding, and about his relationship with his parents-in-law, the Floss's.

It was really moving, for it explored a lot of themes I've experienced firsthand as of late:

• How a person's sudden death can leave behind a gaping abyss in so many different lives at the very same time.
• How everything, EVERYTHING reminds you of her.
• How people find themselves with nothing to say but clichés to you to help ease your burden.
• How pathetic it is to be the guy with the dead fiancé.
  
• How your in-laws pleed with you not to fade away, not to dissappear from their lives, since you are the only thing they have left of their daughter.
• How you love them, and how you want to give them whatever they ask of you, even if it happens to be an emotionally excruciating task.
• How guilty you feel to actually start looking again for somebody to fill up your heart. Guilty, because you feel like you are erasing your last love from your life after all she did for you.

But Moonlight Mile ends on a positive note. Joe finds Bertie, a kindred spirit, and they head together towards the horizon.

So there you have it. All I have to do is find my Bertie and I'll be set.

Whoops

Me and my sister were having breakfast yesterday, and we started talking about people we know in school. Guess what? She knows Midge. My Midge.
And guess what else?? She has a boyfriend!!

Heartbreak Hotel

Well, it's not like we didn't suspect it, right?

I had all the clues in front of me, I just didn't want to see them.
Her aloofness now makes sense: she was trying to avoid giving me the wrong idea.
Her constant cell phone use.

It's a big pill to swallow, you know. But it will go down eventually.
It just feels stuck in my windpipe, that's all.

A walk on the clouds

Yesterday was just golden.

I had to go to my college campus to deliver an important homework. I had to start by looking up the class where my teacher was gonna be at. When I did, I handed her my homework, but then I noticed she and her class were discussing analogies and metaphors, which is a topic I felt I needed a boost on. So I asked permission to stay and listen in.

Anyway, as I was there sitting in class, I got a call... from Midge! I don't need to tell you how much did my blood pressure shoot up right there and then. The reason she was calling: she had to hand over the exact same assignment, so she needed to know in which class our teacher was. So I told her, and after a while, she showed up.

What ensued was what I like to call 'quality time'. No, it wasn't romantic, or anything like that. She just sat next to me and we chatted for a while as we waited for our teacher to take a break from her class so Midge could hand her the homework.

Guys like me, we don't get girls based on our looks, so we have to grow on people over time. But time is what we usually don't have. When we are in class, I don't get to talk to Midge a lot, cause the teacher gets pissed if we don't pay attention. And after our class is over, she just heads right home. But now, there she was, all by herself, no interruptions at hand. So we talked a bit. I didn't even try to flirt, because of her uncertain social status (single? commited? ). I just tried to obtain general info, and let her talk a lot while I listened.

After she had turned in her paper, I decided to walk her to her car. I pretended to have parked in the same parking lot that she had, just so I could walk along her side a while longer. It was about eight extra blocks of walking for me, but you don't care about hardships like these when you are infatuated.

Einstein is right. Time is relative. I remember savoring every second of that walk. But, all things come to an end. As I headed back to where my car was actually parked, I remember thinking -for the first time in a while- that my life could really turn out nice.

It's official: I have a crush

I am beginning to see puffy clouds and cherubs whenever Midge appears.
I am so royally screwed...

At least she allows me to give her a ride to her parking lot after class more often.

I'm a wuss

Big surprise, right? Anyway, lemme tell you why I mean what I say.

I decided to take Midge out to a thing called the Infinite SummerBlast, a one day music festival organized by a local radio station this very weekend. It's supposed to be mondo cool, with 12 hours of music and stuff, even a polo match(?). So last Saturday I got myself a couple of tickets and started gathering up the nerve to ask her out.

Since I am in the habit of complicating things, I started coming up with schemes to minimize possible rejection. I thought of giving her one ticket, then go by myself and just "casually bump" into her.

Now, here's what I actually did: Yesterday, I started telling Midge about these tickets I had for the Infinite SummerBlast, and how I wasn't gonna use them 'cause my mom had decided to have a day-long birthday party. So I asked if she wanted the tickets and gave them to her.

Dunno, it may sound like a really stupid thing to do, but I hope she will have a great time, and then she'll be really thankful towards the swell guy who made it all happen. Right?

Didn't think so either.

Can I tell you a secret?

I like somebody.

Her name is Midge. She's in my same class.
I think I have a crush on her.

Yeah, I know. It's too soon.

But I like to think this is a therapeutic kind of love. Allow me to explain.

After Ivy passed away, my fragile male ego sustained a big loss in the validation department. My little girl was always comfirming me as a valuable man. Even if she did nothing, she was living proof that I was worth something. I mean, if I had a girlfriend, I couldn't be that bad, right?

Since her departure, part of me has been looking for a girl that will validate me once again. It can't be just anybody.

Then, I met Midge. She is small, slender and cute. Just like I like them. Some stuff about her reminds me of Ivy, but in general, this kid is a whole new ballgame. She is spunky and a lot more extroverted than Ivy. Plus, she is a bit more scruffy-looking than Ivy.

So far so good, right? But a part of me tells me it ain't gonna happen.

I mean, she is nice and everything, but I don't see a real connection happening. She is kind of guarded and protective. I suspect this is due to the fact that she may have a boyfriend. I don't know for sure, cause I have no idea how to bring it up without sounding like I'm totally interested.

But even if nothing will ever happen between us, she is very important to me. Not because she is actually interested in me, but because she could be. It's the possibility of love which I treasure.

In her own way, Midge is helping me by taking my mind off Ivy for a while. And that's a big help.

Welcome back, my friends!!!

You know, it's not easy being in hi5.

I mean, sure, you get to do cool stuff like meeting people and such, but that's beside the point. The real cool stuff about hi5 is getting all the friends you can.
(In case you are unfamiliar with the whole hi5 methodology, you get to link your profile with other people's. The more linked profiles you have, the cooler you are)
At first it was really hard to get anybody to be my friend. Totally pathetic, I know. But it was the truth. Only my sisters wanted to hook up with me. Then some Arabian guy got in the act. And that was it for a really long while.

Then, in less than three months time I managed to up my friends to over 60.
I don't need to tell you how happy I was. I felt like the most happenin' guy around.
I pitied those poor sobs that had only 23 friends or so. I felt so charismatic and powerful! I felt like I could look down on anybody Then I had my ego handed down to me.

One evening, all my friends but 7 were gone. I didn't cry that time, but my eyes got really moist. I couldn't believe it!! Was I being punished for my unabashed pride??

I wrote to hi5 support over and over. Each time, I managed to sound even more desperate and maniac than the previous time. I really felt sad and vulnerable.

But that all changed, just now!! I opened up my account and noticed that all my friends were back!! Not only that, but I had managed to gain a few extra buds along the way. So now, I'm up to 75!!

I have almost overcome that horrorific week I've just had. I still shudder when I consider how many times people checked my profile and thought I was totally lame 'cause I only had three friends. Now people will have to actually know me before making that very same conclusion!!

HURRAY!! GO MOM!!!

My mom turned 58 today.

I gave her two books, a blouse, chocolates and had flowers sent to her place.

What can I say? I love my mother.
Sue me.

I am amazed

And you would be if you witnessed the sudden cleanliness that governs my room. I mean, we are talking about a room that used to be so cluttered that you couldn't see the floor. It drove a lot OCPD relatives nuts.

The transformation took its damn time to happen. It started slow, a couple of years ago, with the acquisition of a new file cabinet (a beautiful custom job, bigger than the standard model), and a new drawing table (which I managed to put together myself in a quite acceptable fashion). After that, things stood still for a while.

Then, the coloured plastic boxes started to pour in. At first, I got myself just three: one red (DVDs and CDs), one blue (books) and one yellow (magazines). Pretty soon it became apparent that I had badly miscalculated and was forced to go back to the store. And again. At the moment, I am the proud owner of nine sturdy plastic containers. Eleven, if you count a couple of transparent ones that my mom had given me a while back for my birthday.

Nowdays, while there is still a lot to be done, the room is way more organized than before. Way.

I dunno what is it about my family and clutter. My dad was the exact same way. I've tried to refrain from the excesses that he incurred into, but it's not easy. Sometimes it's very hard to part with stuff. You always fear that instants after you have thrown away something, the urgent need for the discarted item will arise out of nowhere.

I like to think that the only things that keep me from a fully organized lifestyle is a lack of proper furniture. Currently my desk has no drawers of any kind (which is no surprise, given that it is actually a dinner table from my Dad). I don't even have a working closet (the current one is old and rotting away). The shelves are far from optimal. But all that will change eventually.

Wait till I get some time and money in my hands, and I'll put in new closets, bookshelves and a really good bed. It'll be grand, you'll see!! Maybe then my granny will stop having seizures whenever my room comes up in a conversation.

58

A couple of days ago, Ivy and I would've celebrated our 58th month together.
Luckily, I was just amazingly busy and I wasn't able to dwell on it much.

Gosh, I still miss her so much, the only way to cope is to avoid thinking about her at all.

Kzanderall-at-School update!!

Ok, so if you've been around here before, you'll know that I'm not much of a regular poster. Although, I get my writing spurts every once in a while. But let's just say that now, I have a good reason: I'm back in school, baby!!

For about a month now, I've been up to my ears with homework, while still holding to my two jobs. Insane? Kinda, but God knows I need the moneys to pay for school. That sucker is expensive.

So far, I've been able to cope. Kinda. Let's hope that stress doesn't make me flip before the semester is over.

Nobody reads me anymore. Hurray!

It had to happen. I have gotten so depressingly boring that my writings are no longer interesting to anybody. Not even myself.
Heck, getting a reader every once in a while was fun, but I guess I'll manage.

Kzanderallia, Love It!!

There is a new movement in Kzanderallia, called Kzanderallia, Love It!. I believe it will do Kzanderallia a lot of good. One of this country's problems is the lack of nationalism in its citizens. Of course, there are plenty of reasons that we are that way. But it's about time to turn things around!!

This festival got started last Wednesday 25th, and it rained. Hope it's not an omen.

Crush

My first crush?? Can't say for sure.
But the one crush I remember most was my infatuation with Rose.

She was a really pretty girl, albeit a bit skinny and tomboyish. She was nice, but aloof... specially with me. Wouldn't you be with a kid that drools all over you??

Years of experience have taught me that adoration and obsession are two ways to get a girl turned off right away. But this was before that. I had no clue what to do, other than stare at her all day and make clumsy attempts at conversation.

My crush ended one Prom Night, when I gathered the nerve to walk up to her and ask her to dance. She looked at me and blurted out in a condescending tone, "I'm sorry, you're just too short!" It was true. She was a full 2 inches taller than me.

I'd love to tell you that this remark didn't scar me for life, but I guess it did. It would explain why now I look for girls who are obviously shorter than me. Even with high heels on.

Video wacko

We are officially nuts.

My little sis and I went to the video store and rented SEVEN flicks!! (Two for her, five for me):

And they're all due on Tuesday!!
I dunno about you, but I got my week full.

I really, REALLY love my in-laws

I went to the gym today. I never take my phone with me, 'cause I hate having to lug things around while I'm in there. Well, when I got to the car, I saw about nine lost calls! They were from my mother-in-law, who wanted to invite me to join them for breakfast.

I had a really fun time. I love seeing Ivy's family. And they seem to love me back. It's so nice!
Nothing can replace Ivy, but this sure helps.

Eye of the beholder

A girl I know has an online photo gallery. She has photos in there dating back to her early childhood. As you check out the album, you get to see her and her friends grow up right before your very eyes. It's nothing out of the extraordinary: you see friends goofing off, having a good time. You see her first car (which she totalled a while later), new hairdos, prom dresses...it's stuff that everybody has gone thru at one time or the other.

She has a new man in her life, so most of the new stuff is devoted to him. (Lucky guy).

Ah... to be young and in love!!

Movie night!

I wanted to see Wedding Crashers ever since I heard about it. Despite the fact that the DVD is already available in the US, it just premiered in theaters over here. (That's Kzanderallia for you).

So, I went to see it and it was great. Got to laugh like crazy at Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn's wacky antics. And I got to see my favorite star, miss Rachel McAdams. Isn't she gorgeous??

Now, on a more personal note...

Anyway, while it might seem masochistic of me to go out and see films about weddings right now, it was really good. I had a good laugh (many, actually) and I had an opportunity to see some of the things I lived thru from a different perspective. Just as in the movie, my former father-in-law is a big man here in Kz-land. And his family, -God bless them- is totally whacked. But dammit, I love them all.

I wanna die

Really. After having a great big ol' cry last night, I was feeling kinda refreshed... but, around 8:30 AM, I realized that today, Ivy and I would've celebrated our 57th month together. Yeah, we used to celebrate every month we were together. We called them 'Monthiversaries'. Every 21st we used to exchange cards and go out and have a good time. We did it every time, except on the 55th, cause she was ill and everything, and our minds were busy on getting her to feel better. She was gone about a week later.

I miss her. God, I really do. I feel this emptyness in my heart, which just doesn't go away. I have nobody to confide in. I mean, who would ever want to hear this? So when people ask me how i feel, I just say, 'I'm fine, more or less.' But the truth is that I am lonely, and sad.

Move on?

Everybody wants me to be able to turn the page. But what is it, exactly, to turn the page? Meeting somebody else? Having a new girlfriend? Getting married?? Having kids??

It all sounds wonderful, but here's the thing: I am not a good man. I am, in fact, despicable. I am nothing but an inmense collection of bad habits, awful personality traits and a terrible temper to boot. I am messy, and disorganized. I am fat and hideous. I am over-anxious and stupid. Selfish and lazy. Weak and disgusting. Quite a catch.

Even I wouldn't want to hang out with myself. How can I ask some poor girl to? How can I in good faith ask somebody else to be with me?

I won't. I can't condemmn another woman to this hell. I will spare them all. Never again shall I ruin somebody else's life by asking them to be with me. Most women have good sense and turn their backs on me. But, there are still some unfortunate souls that don't know better and that have the terrible idea that I could be a good boyfriend, a good husband.
I must show them the error of their ways and put them on the right path: away from me.

And yet...

Instants after deciding that no woman in the world should be forced to suffer my companionship, I find myself thinking how good it would be to have somebody else in my life. Didn't I say I was stupid??

I guess I should clear this up a bit. It's not that I DON'T WANT TO have somebody else to fill my days with love and tenderness. Having somebody in your life is the greatest thing one could ever have. But I no longer have the right to fulfill my wishes. You are entitled to ask for good things only if you are a worthy person. I am not.

Women deserve better

They deserve a good man. A hard worker. Somebody who is strong and wise. Somebody filled with energy and courage. Somebody who will help you out.

What can I offer?? I am none of those things. Sometimes I feel that I am made up from leftovers.

I feel like a waste. I feel that the time, love and money invested in me were for not. I am an incomplete and useless being.

I should live the rest of my days giving happiness to others. I will be a great friend, a good man to talk to. I will listen to others and help them in whatever way I can.

But I will not look for anybody else. I will not allow anything remotely like a relationship to happen ever again.

Robo-Kz

Lately, it feels as if my life is in auto-drive, living itself on its own, without me having to intervene at all. It's like I'm watching a tv show called Kz's Life. There just aren't any ads, and it will only end when I leave this planet.

Oh, but let me tell you about the pain. It's glorious, I assure you. Not having Ivy in my life has left me completely empty. I have no reason to go on anymore.

Trust me, I'm not suicidal

Saying that I have no reason to go on anymore freaks people out. They think I'm gonna off myself at some point.
But no.

Let me say right up that as a Catholic, I have a very healthy fear of Hell, and that's precisely where suicides go.
So I can't do it.

But the fact that I lack the nerve to kill myself doesn't mean I don't ever think about it. In fact, while I was an angst-ridden teen a few years back, I used to think about suicide all the time. All the friggin time. Of course, I told no one. It's like asking to be commited. I remember thinking that I didn't want my body scarred or mutilated, so I couldn't jump from a window or shoot myself. That meant I'd have to overdose. But... there's always the chance of a coma...

It was stupid, actually. Even back then, I knew I would never have the nerve to whack myself. Still, I obsessed about it. I thought how it would end all my suffering, my sadness, my loneliness. I imagined everybody at school being sorry that they hadn't treated me better. Isn't that the most stupid thing ever?? Like they would care.

That's the thing about suicide. It doesn't teach your foes a lesson. It only hurts the ones that care about you. And it solves nothing. Plus, it's a waste.

Why I say I have no reason for living

For almost five years, Ivy was everything to me. She was everywhere. She used to call me six o seven times a day. I was at her house about two hours each day, and almost six on weekdays.

She was the reason I wanted to get up in the morning. She was the reason I wanted to be somebody. She was the reason I wanted to be a husband and a father.

Now she is gone. What am I supposed to do now?
Dying isn't an option. So I guess I have to live until God wants me to die.
What will I do till then... that's the question.

Back 2 school!!

After a really long break, I've gone back to school. This time, I'm determined to get my degree in Design at last.

The class

To graduate, I have to take this course called Portfolio. It's a very special kind of class, because it's actually three classes in one. On Mondays, we see Design Investigation (investigate a design issue), on Wednesdays we see Design Strategy (we develop a design project), and on Thursdays we take Portfolio Construction (we build our personal work portfolio). Each class starts at 17:30 and ends around 20:00.

The classmates

I'm in the special group. We are 'special', 'cause each of us has really special needs. Some have taken the course before and failed. Others haven't been in school for more than four years.
A bunch of misfits are we.
Karola: Mother of three. Her stranged husband tried to take away their kids.
Yulissa: Mother of two. She is really funny and lives a block away from campus so she walks to class.
Midge: Her tiny frame gives her the appearance of a 18-year-old, when she is actually 29. She's taken the course before and has to take every single class again (just like me).
Joey: A total goofball. We love him. He only comes on Wednesdays.
Georgy: He only has to come in on Mondays. He usually brings his exhuberant girlfriend along. That girl's got her man on a short leash.
We are a really nice group, in all.

Schedule rearrangements

I had to consider dropping one of my two jobs (either the one at Lexcorp or the one at Culture Publishing House) in order to have time to do all the class assignments.
Right now I managed to strike a deal with CPH and they're allowing me to show up only twice a week as long as I do everything they throw at me.
We'll see if this arrangement works out.

Classware

I decided not to skip any expenses and without further ado, I went to the store and got myself about all school supplies I could think of: notebooks, tape dispensers, staplers, bookbags, the works. I hope that it's worth it. All I know is that school-supply shopping is always fun.

Coping

What should I be feeling? How should I channel my pain? What should I do with my life?
First of all, 'should' is a clumsy word to use. I don't believe there is a way to grieve. I can look at how other people have faced similar (or worse) pain, but their actions are their own. I have to choose my own path.

How do I feel?

First of all, I think that my mind is in deep denial at the time. I tell myself that it is going to be alright. I tell myself that I will be happy again. But I'm actually not so sure. Two things stand in my way: guilt and fear.

Guilt over the bad things I said and did while Ivy was alive. I never cheated on her, but we had fights, ugly ones. I was tardy, I was messy. I ate too much. Everything I said to her then now feels like a screw driving itself into my heart, a twist at a time.

Fear is a big part of my life now. Fear of being alone forever. Of course, I have friends, I have a family. They support me. That, in itself, is a blessing. But it's just not the same as the love of a woman. And each passing day I convince myself a bit more that Ivy was a fluke. Maybe I'm too ugly. Maybe I'm too fat. So far, these are workable areas. But, what if I'm the problem, you know? What I'm just too stupid, too dumb? What if I don't deserve to be with anybody?

How do I channel my pain?

I haven't. Not really. I wish I could say that I've been working on my masterpiece, which will blow everyone away. But that is not the case. So far, I've been letting my life go on just the same as it was before. I get up, get dressed, have breakfast, go to work. I eat. I sleep. I let routine drive me as much as it can. Still, I am left with huge gaps in my day, gaps SHE used to fill.

What should I do with my life?

I have no idea what is to become of me. The future is cloudy right now. I have a hard time thinking up a reason to keep going. No, I'm not suicidal. What I mean is that I have no purpose anymore. I was going to be married this year. Live with Ivy. Have kids. All my goals were wiped clean. Why should I go on living?

I have to work on an answer to that.

Uncle Sam REALLY, REALLY wants you

A few days ago, while on vacation in Las Vegas, an Army recruiter approached my cousin Paul and asked him if he wanted to sign up. My cousin politely told them he wasn't interested.
The Army guy offered helping him get into a good college.
My cuz told him he already was into a good college... back home... in Kzanderallia.
Army Guy wasn't deterred.
-"You aren't American? No prob! We can help you with that!!"

I guess things aren't going so well in Iraq as some had hoped.
Maybe the Army should look into robot armies, or cloning.
Or maybe not starting wars just for the sake of it.
Whaddaya think?

Happy New Year!!

May it not be as lousy as the last two.

Things to do if you want to get rid of a cough

I've had a cough for the last two weeks.
Now, here's a list of things to do when you want to get rid of a cough:

1. Take your cough syrup
2. Don't stay out late
3. Don't go out without a coat
4. Don't smoke
5. Don't talk too much
6. Cover yourself up when you go to sleep

Of course, I HAVEN'T DONE A SINGLE THING.

Holy pissed

Talking to my granny yesterday, I realized that I'm really REALLY mad... at God, no less!

You see, as a Christian, they tell you that if you are a good child, and respect your parents and eat all your greens and go to bed early, when you die, you'll be rewarded in the afterlife.

But what they don't tell you is that no matter how well you behave, death can come to you in a million excruciating ways. Sometimes you get lucky, and you die in your sleep. But usually, you get stabbed, or shot or crushed in a car accident. Or maybe a good doctor botches up and you die for his mistakes.
Like Ivy did.

I was so mad, because she was so good and she suffered so much. Meanwhile, total S.O.B.s live their whole lives without goint thru so much as a cold. Didn't seem fair. Wasn't God supposed to be good??

Then my granny talked about Jesus. Even though he was unquestionably good, even though he did no one harm, he had to suffer unspeakable pain and torture before he died.

I'm not a religious man... but all of a sudden, her words put everything back into perspective.

I guess I'm still mad: those things don't go away from one day to the next.
But for now, I have peace.

Thanks, Granny!!

This is one of those moments...

...when it really sucks to not have a girlfriend.

It's 11pm and I feel like talking. But who can I talk to?
Everybody's asleep.
Thought about chatting, but it's just not the same.
It's too easy to get lost in the noise of dozens of people saying different things at the same time.

I think I'll go shake my granny.
At least I won't be the only one awake in the house.

More than meets the eye-brow

Today, I looked at the mirror and I saw this:



Do you see that curly eyebrow sticking out?

My dad had curly eyebrows like that. They would drive my mother into a hair-plucking frenzy. Whenever I saw him squirming under her tweezers, I couldn't help being extremely thankful of not sharing that feature.

I'm safe no longer. My mother's tweezers will come for me soon.
My dad must be laughing his head off.

MERRY XMAS!!!

Sick day!

I caught a cold a couple of days ago.

Rather... it caught me.
I got the full package: The clogged up nose, the body pain, the shivering, the stuffy head, the cough...
I thought I was well enough to go to the office, but I was totally wrong. I was able to manage on Monday, but yesterday I got little done, unless you count blowing your nose ten times a minute as work.

And just to prove how moronic I can actually be, yesterday I decided to go to a little get-together, after work.
The restaurant was quite chilly and that, of course, didn't help.

After a most miserable of nights, I decided to skip work today and stay at home.
So here I am, all cuddled up in bed, while others slave themselves at the office.

I definitely should have more sick days.

Missing her

It's tough to see young couples or young mothers with their babies.
Ivy really wanted to get married. She really wanted to be a mother.
I admit I wasn't as thrilled about both things, but I knew that would make her inmensely happy.
And that's all I ever wanted, to make her happy.
Cause making her happy made me happy in return.

When I was with Ivy, I thought I was made!
Never again would I have to go on dates.
Never again would I feel lonely!!
Now, I feel lonely all the time. No matter what I do.
It feels as if a little flame inside my heart had gone out.

Somebody explain to me how Ivy seems to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time??

Weird things that happen when somebody passes on

It's been almost three weeks after Ivy's passing. It's been harsh, but thanks to all the shows of affection and support that we've received online and offline, her family and I have been able to push on forward.

I wanted to share with you stuff that happened since she is no longer with us. Some of them are so absurd that I have no idea what to make of them.

Late scoldings: While Ivy was being put on the ground, one of her sisters thought it was the perfect time to reprimand every single member of her family right there and then on what she perceived to be poor family relations. They had to stand there and listen to her ramble on and on right there in the cemetery.

Regrets: One of Ivy's brothers-in-law asked everyone attending the funeral services that if they loved someone, they should tell them right away and make sure they know while they're alive. Great advice, but... guess why he was so adamant about it.

Recycling: Some thought it a great idea to take some of Ivy's floral arrangements over to another relative's tomb. Spread the joy.

Indecent proposals: The fact that I have been single for barely 20 days or so hasn't stopped several young ladies from making efforts in securing the vacant position. The fact that I stayed with Ivy till the very end seems to be quite attractive for some. Although quite a boost to the ol' self-esteem, I think it's too soon, gals.

Personality changes: Me and my brother-in-law didn't quite see each other eye-to-eye, but he went up to my mother and declared that he was "honored to have met a man as remarkable as your son". Who was that guy??

Virtual adoption: My parents-in-law want me to come over every night and have dinner at their house They have asked me countless times to never stray away from them. Will they kidnap me in my sleep?

Everything must go: My mother-in-law wants me to have Ivy's bed. My father-in-law wants to give me her car. Anybody else thinks it's kinda creepy to use your loved one's things while they're 6 feet under?

Color me creeped out.

Two weeks later...

It's been real rough without you, baby.
But I will keep on going.
I know you'd want me to.
I will always love you.

Goodbye, my love

Today, Ivy lost her battle against lupus.
Words are useless to express the pain I feel, the anguish, the sorrow.

At the same time, I am happy that she is finally free from pain and disease.

Baby, I will never forget you.

Hi5

A while back, I got into hi5. In case you don’t know what hi5 is...

hi5.com is a social networking internet service. Users create an online profile by answering questions and uploading a user picture. Though not as popular in the United States as MySpace or Friendster, hi5 has grown largely popular in Latin American and Caribbean countries.
(from Wikipedia.)

Nice, right?

I could post pictures, meet new people, get in touch with old friends... Could it get any better than that? Networking sites are awesome.

I must say, however, that I've noticed a couple of things:

A. Everybody has more contacts than me
I saw a guy with 100 contacts. Then I saw a girl with 413.
I had exactly two contacts for about 18 months. Both of them were my sisters.
If they hadn’t linked up to me, my mother would’ve disowned them.

B. I have a lame life
As I looked at other people’s photos, it became quite clear that I am THE dullest person ever.
Parties, trips, concerts, get-togethers, night-outs... Everybody is having fun! And just where the FREAK was I???

Networking sites can be so depressing.

Shakedown!!

I've just been scared crapless.

Something happened at Lexcorp yesterday. My department got re-engineered.

No, that doesn't sound nearly as menacing as it should. You see, I work down at Lexcorp's Document Centre. The Centre is split threeways: Publishing, Legal and Documentation. Documentation is composed of three more units: Customer Service, Library and Statistics.

The problem is this very last unit. Statistics was the largest unit in the whole Centre: about ten people. And now it is being absorbed by another department.

This was a surprise move, planned to perfection to the last detail. Nobody at the Centre knew about this, until it happened.

Needless to say, this is chilling. If this could happen to them, it can happen to any of the remainding units, incluiding mine. Thinking ahead, this could be disastrous for the Document Centre. Without half of our workforce, we will shrink down considerably. So will our budget.

Worst case scenario, the decision could be made to close down the Centre, which could happen in one of two ways:
a) the remainding workers could be reassigned to other units.
b) we could just be sent home for good.

Did I mention I was scared crapless?

C-c-cold

Believe it or not, but winter is upon Kzanderallia. And damn it if it isn’t the coldest one I remember. (Of course, I can’t remember more than a year back, so that isn’t much of a statement.)

If you’ve read my blog before, you know I’ve always declared myself a cold weather lover. That was because I was a bit chubbier and hot weather was unbearable to me. But it so happens that I’ve been losing some weight lately, and so my body doesn't hold heat the same way.

So as I write this, I'm using the thickest jacket I have, and thinking that you should be careful with what you wish for.
'Cause getting it is a bitch.

Adieu, Dan

I'm just back from the airport, after leaving Dan and his girlfriend. They will go to Chicago for two weeks and then they will proceed to Europe for a month and a half. I'm such a whirlwind of emotions right now.

First, I'm sad that he is leaving. Dan is one of my closest friends and not being able to see him or even call him for such a long while is a bit distressing. But I'm also glad for him, for he will be having a really good time and he will meet new people and places.

Finally, I'm envious as hell. Did I mention Dan will be bouncing around in Europe with his girlfriend... just the two of them?? My mother would never approve. Neither would my mother-in-law. Damn, I don't think Ivy would approve. Not until we're married, anyway. But what's the fun of doing it then??

My strip

Vacation time!!

Today is the first day of my two-week vacation from Lexcorp. Usually Lexcorp has very rigid schedules regarding vacation schedules. But since my department has only three people on it, we are able to control our vacation schedules. I got the first shift. A week after I come back, my boss goes on vacation himself. That's when my REAL vacation will begin.

Dang

I’ve just had the busiest week I can remember.
I partied harder than I ever thought possible.

Now I’m battling the worse hangover in memory.

Death of a blog

Recently, a friend of mine had to take his blog offline, ‘cause his family was about to find out about it. He was lucky. Had they read what he wrote about them, they would’ve scalped him and eaten him alive.

But now, another hilariously funny blog is gone. And that is a tragedy in its own right.

This whole incident also got me thinking what would I do if my family ever finds out about this thing. Will I run to its deletion?? I dunno. Hope not. Luckily, my mom and my granny are just as technophobes as ever. Ivy isn’t fond of surfing the net. My sisters have better things to do than finding out all the perverted things I do online. And most of my friends don’t know English.

Usually I complain about people never reading this blog. For this once, not being read is actually a good thing.

Blog spam

A few days back, I got an email message telling me somebody had posted something on my blog. Being a well known attention whore, I was delighted yet puzzled, for I didn’t recognize the name of the poster.

I read and re-read the post. I couldn’t believe it. Had somebody just posted SPAM on my blog??
Sure seemed that way:
“Hey fello blogger! I loved your blog. Now find out how you can help Katrina victims at www.ripoff.com”

Man, this just bites. I mean, I was barely getting comments as it was... and now I have to go on and turn on security measures for my blog, which means I might as well forget about getting a single comment ever again.

Friggin’ spammers.

Real proof I'm a glutton for punishment

Two weeks ago, I went ahead and did a crazy thing: I put myself on a diet. No, not one of those celebrity diets you see popping in teen magazines all over the place.

For a while now, it seems that my usual diet of McBurgers, pizza, soda and ice cream has done little for me other than making my clothes hug me a bit tighter than what is comfortable. My arduous program of no exercise at all doesn't seem to help things, either.

After a lot of consideration, I visited the neighborhood weight clinic. There, I was weighed and, for starters, a regimen of reduction massages and body wraps was prescribed.

I was asked to come back the next day with swimming trunks, two towels (one big to lie down on, one small to wipe excess cream and oil). Also, I was required to purchase a bottle of rubbing oil, and two special creams.

I must say, I had NO IDEA what I was getting myself into.

Massage time!

When I read 'massages', I foolishly pictured tall, Swedish women softly caressing my naked body with oils. Instead, I got a diminutive lady in her late 40's, who asked me to dress the massage table with the big towel, then lie on top of it. Then proceeded to rough me up in the most brutal manner possible. For an incredibly long half-hour, she proceeded to pull, push, mash and squish my skin so hard I thought it was going to break apart in her hands. When she finished, my belly, sides and back felt sore as heck. Damn, I felt like she had punctured my spleen, my liver or at least some internal organ.

Later that very day, the soreness would escalate to the point where I would not be able to move any part of my body without feeling like an 80-year-old retiree with a bad hip.

Anyway, right after we were thru with the massage, it was time for the body wrap. This very same lady pulled out a bowl with damp bandages which she proceeded to envelop my torso with.

Although I'd been told that they were 'cold' wraps, I didn't quite figure out what that meant until I felt the wet, chilling bandages making contact with my warm torso. I felt a massive goosebump going thru my whole body.

After the lady was thru, she left me to myself, all alone in that big white room. I dunno which was worse: being uncomfortably wrapped like a big taco or having absolutely nothing to do but listening to Muzak for 30 minutes straight.

Once my time was over, the lady came back to give me my freedom once more. I was overwhelmed with joy.
My first session was over. Only 24 more to go...

The best was yet to come

But the suffering was far from over. A few days later, I got my first diet plan.
That's when crap really hit the fan.That’s when I finally had to face the fact that I wanted to lose weight and stuffing my face would just not do. It was heart-breaking.

The next 3 days were spent eating all the papaya I wanted. Actually, drinking is more accurate.
Since I knew I would despise eating papaya chunks, I asked people to put the papaya in the blender and make it into a drink. I drank, and drank and drank till my gut was filled with liquid. Then I would rush to the bathroom, with an imperative urge to pee like a madman.  Drinking and peeing, that sums up those dreaded 72 hours. Oh, and trying not to think about eating every two seconds.

Luckily, the papaya gave way to more substatial food. My first breakfast with the new plan consisted of cottage cheese on whole wheat bread. Not much, but when you’ve been ‘eating’ fruit for three whole days straight, you take what you get.

The fight keeps on

I have lost ten pounds so far, which is good, but I still need to lose a couple of pounds more.
Therefore, the diet is still on, and so are the massacre massages and the polar-worthy wraps.

I just hope I get rid of the excess poundage before I go insane.
Even more so.

It's raining!!

Yeah, it’s rainy season in Kzanderallia. It’s been so for a few months now.
No news there.

But right now, it’s pouring outside!!

Why is water precipitation so exciting for me? Because when it gets wet enough around here, it cools down the temperature quite a bit. For someone who despises hot weather as I do, it’s really good news.

Amazing sunset

Just can't help it

What is it about fans that makes one want to stick something in it?? Is it the sound of the blades tearing into pencils, paper, clips, and the like?? Or is it the sheer appetite for destruction latent in every human??
Oh, who cares??
Some things are better not overanalized.
Now, if you excuse me, I have a pencil here that urgently needs to be chopped down.

*BRRRRRRRTTTT!!!*

Don't play with knives, kids!!

OUCH!!

I just smashed my right thumb a few minutes ago. I was closing the door after parking my car at LexCorp, and didn’t notice that I had left a finger in the way. At first, it didn’t really hurt, I just felt jammed. For a fraction of a second, I even laughed at my clumsiness. Nevertheless, as the door slowly began crushing my thumbnail, I realized this was no joke. Frantically, I managed to open the door and pull my finger out in about two seconds flat.

The pain was unbearable. The desire to scream and curse like a sailor, irresistible. But no matter how justifiable, this impulse had to remain miserably unfulfilled, as I was in a public space and really didn’t want to bring attention upon myself. All I was left with was clutching my maimed limb and trying to somehow contain the primal scream that was hatching in my lungs. My face was red, my jaw was locked, my eyes swollen. To a casual observer, I must’ve looked like I was simply holding my breath (and my hand) forcefully. On the inside, however, I was seeing red all over.

As time passed, the pain reduced to practical extinction. It only hurts when I bump my thumb into something. The thumbnail feels kinda numb. The space above the cuticle is red, which means it will probably turn blue over time. And of course, my nail will grow crooked after this.

Why was this so funny when it happened to Elmer Fudd?

So many missed chances!

I've been thinking that if I was closer to the computer all day, this blog
would be filled to the brim with at least five times the content it has
now!! Countless ideas and comments have been lost because they happen to
come into my mind at times when I have no way of recording them.

But considering the kind of half-baked crud that does manage to get in here,
maybe less of it is in everybody's best interest.

Ugly on the inside

I distinctly remember a little nursery rhyme I read once, about a very beautiful child, who had awfully improper language. The last line on it was, "Pity this child: so beautiful, yet so ugly!"
I keep that rhyme in mind because it never fails to shock me when an exquisite example of the female gender uses foul language that would put a truck driver to shame.
Just last night, I was having dinner at my parents-in-law’s, and one of the guests –a stunning model/actress/dancer- started talking irately about some women who were after her man. The word bitch was employed ad nauseam till my mother-in-law had to intervene. I can’t tell you how my image of this lady was deteriorated right then and there.

My take on cursing

I think that people forget the purpose of having curse words: they are special words, that when used scantily are able to shock and insult. But when used all the time, their impact is severly dilluted till they just happen to be mere words. Some think that casual cursing makes you cool, but the necessity to employ curse words in everyday conversation only reflects a lack of culture and vocabulary. Ask any job recruiter and they’ll tell you that having a potty-mouth isn’t a sought-after skill.  
I admire those who manage to go the longest time without uttering a single curse word. My mom and my granny have maybe cursed five times in the 28 years that I’ve known them. My dad was a little more profane, mainly when driving. But everybody knows swearing behind the wheel doesn’t count.

Not my best week

Ivy got sick on Wednesday night. Her white cell count had dropped dramatically, and had to be checked into a hospital for observation. After her tests came in, it was clear that she had an infection and needed antibiotics. When I went to see her on Thursday, she had been put under sanitary isolation, and every visitor had to wear masks and robes. Let me tell you, if the sudden news of her hospitalization hadn’t been harsh enough, having to bear cumbersome hygenic measures was really tough to bear. Luckily that was dropped by the next day. And Ivy herself got released on Saturday.

But it wasn’t over yet

While at the hospital, the medicines -and being practically bedridden for three days- caused Ivy pain in her knees and lower back. This pain started to grow and grow as time passed. On Saturday, the pain had turned unbearable. When I went to see her at her home, she was really anguished. She just couldn’t find any position in which she could really relax. Sitting, standing, lying down: nothing worked. The painkillers weren’t working either. That was devastating, to see her so distressed and to not be able to do anything. I managed to convince her to take a little ride in my car, and I drove around and around till she was able to doze off at least a full half hour.

The pain starts to give out

Luckily, the pain killers started to work by Sunday, and she was able to sleep that night. Little by little the pain seems to be going away. But the fight is yet from over. There is still pain, no matter what she does. But it is more tolerable than what she had on Saturday. She is feeling a bit better now and it shows. She has longer episodes of recovery. She can stand to sit or lie down for longer times. Today we watched a movie at her house: Serving Sara, with Matthew Perry and Elizabeth Hurley. Lemme tell you, it was lots of fun.

Fate has a funny sense of humour

Just when it seemed that Ivy was winning her fight... her skin has started to turn yellowish. Her eyes are yellow as well. The symptoms indicate liver malfunction. It could be a temporary thing, caused by all the medicine she has had to take in the last 5 days. Or, it could be Hepatitis.Or it could be catastrophic liver failure. We won’t know for sure till she goes to the doctor, tomorrow morning. Boy, It just never gets boring in here.

My old radio

Back in the Mesozoic Age, when I was in sixth grade, I started having trouble sleeping. It would seem that all the sounds I’d heard throughout the day would start coming back to me, playing in my head over and over throughout the night.It was maddening.

After a couple of nights like this, I did the logical thing: I asked my mom. She decided it was time to give me my first radio. It wasn’t new, but it was better than new. It was a Toshiba, late 70’s model, back when listening to the radio was still cool, before people had cassette tapes and 8-tracks. It was solid black, and it had dials and knobs up the wazoo. Beside the usual volume, tuning and bass/trebble controls, it could pick up AM, FM, and about seven different frequencies I had never heard of. I loved how the dial lit up in green hues. And here was an interesting feature: it had a timer. You could turn on the radio and set up the timer to shut it down anywhere from 5 to 60 minutes. Conversely, if you set up the timer with the radio off, it would turn it on when the time ran out.

Right now, I can’t fathom the logic that was behind my mom’s solution, but she was right. I don’t remember ever having trouble sleeping anymore. But I remember a couple of sleepless nights toying with the knobs on that cool radio of mine.

The Cheat Sheet

Just now, as I was cleaning up my Mac, I came across a really old Word file. As I started reading it, memories flushed to my mind.

The year was 2000. I was young and single. I was meeting new people all the time, so I decided to start a file on the girls I was seeing.

Fast-forward to the present. I can’t place most of the girls on the list. And the one I can remember, I’d rather forget. But what is rather amusing about the file is the shallow little comments beside every entry: “Eats a lot”, “Loves the X-Men”, “Talks with a Mexican accent”. My favorite: “Her last boyfriend cheated on her and she is still willing to go back with him. Definitely not very bright”.

Wonder what they had to say about me.

Good Ol' Details

For a while now, I've been an off-again, on-again reader of Details magazine. I first approached the magazine during Mark Golin's 1999-2000 tenure as editor. His previous job had been at the helm of another famous male publication: Maxim.

Maxim

If you’ve never seen Maxim, basically it’s a male-oriented, babe-infested, macho-fest of a magazine. Booze, women, cars: that’s the core of the Maxim creed. Think of it as testosterone turned into a glossy periodical. But also, there’s the humor: wacky, void of any respect whatsoever. They make fun of Bush, the Pope, anybody. Even the captions on the photos are funny. Whenever I feel my IQ is soaring excessively high, I run to the newsstand for a copy of Maxim and balance my system with the dose of macho it sorely needs. It’s dumb, brainless fun: I totally love it!

However, my love of Maxim doesn’t extend to the Latin American version of the magazine, which is published in Mexico, like most of the mags we get in Kzanderallia. Their attempts to try to replicate the essence of US Maxim are depressing. Despite reusing a lot of material from the American edition, it still comes off as cheap, vulgar and crude publication that ultimately seems to be written by a bunch of monkeys with typewriters. Overpaid monkeys.

Mark Golin’s Details

Back then, Golin tried to apply the same formula that had served him so well at Maxim, toning it down a little bit. Not as many scantily-clad women, not so much booze. The funny photo captions did cross over, which I remember were a hook for me. Also, he put babes on the covers. (That was a bit confusing. Many people approaching the magazine for the first time –me included- thought it was a ladies’ mag) The magazine still looked after the metrosexual male of the new millenium with lots of fashion spreads and features on quirky (and pricey) accessories for the man who had it all. The writing was fast-paced, always interesting. They took a lot of risks. The design was fresh and exciting. The comedy was very sofisticated, and you had to be in-the-know to get all the jokes, which wasn’t easy.

This is where nostalgia kicks in. This was 2000. Before 9/11, before the digital bubble burst. Lots of people were making money off stocks and thought “Bin Laden” was some sort of new trendy spa. New Yorkers were cocky and loaded with cash, and wrote that way.

My first time

I had never seen a magazine quite like Details, and loved it right away. I vividly remember the place I bought my first Details at: a drugstore that isn’t around anymore. It was one of the few places carrying American magazines. I remember they only had the February issue, so I had to go to a warehouse downtown to get the January issue. Then I kept on buying Details monthly.

Unfortunately for me, I learned of Details about half into Golin’s run, from Jan to May 2000. But I will cherish those five issues forever.

Current Details

However, my affection for this flavor of Details was not shared by many. This period is considered by many as a lowpoint of the magazine. Long-time readers hated this Maxim clone, and wanted their old magazine back. Golin was fired and the next creative team sobered up the magazine dramatically. It even changed the size, making each page bigger. Gone were the ladies on the covers, the fratboy humor. The fashion stayed. Most of the writing staff didn’t.

Epilogue

Well, it wasn’t easy to realize that my beloved magazine was gone forever. I purchased the new Details, but didn’t really like it at first. I missed the wackiness, the easygoing spirit. Then the stock market crashed. The attacks happened. The era was over.

I haven’t really found any magazine like my old Details. There’s a few traces left of it in Maxim but the more brainy Details has managed to grow on me. Its writing style reminds me of GQ, which is another magazine I really like. But that’s a whole ‘nother story.

The traveling shutterbug

Those who know me as an avid photographer won't be surprised when informed that I managed to take over 2500 photos in my two-week trip. You think that’s too much? Whilst in Europe, I took 3300 pics in three weeks! That makes about one photo every 8 minutes. I must admit, the hardest part was waking up at night every eight minutes to take that damned picture.

Storage issues

Of course, when you take 2500 photos, you have to store them somehow. Since all I took for the trip was a couple of memory cards totaling about 280 megs, I had to buy myself another card. Not just any card, but a 1 Gigabyte card! As you can imagine, I filled that one in less than four days. So I was always on the lookout for places where I could download my pictures to a CD and wipe the card.  Being on a schedule, I couldn’t be too picky as to where I could go to download my pics. Stationary stores, pharmacies, photo labs... Any place was good! Those circumstances led to the fateful situation I am to tell you about.

Photo tragedy

(Act One)

While on the second leg of the trip, New York, I was quite anxious to empty my brand new 1 meg card. So I walked into a drug store and asked to put my photos on a disc. The usual person wasn’t there, but a very young guy said he could do it. That right there was Warning Number One. He popped the card onto the photo machine and downloaded all the photos to a disk. It took a long while, almost 10 minutes. That was Warning Number Two. At the end, he handed me just one 700 Megabytes disc where he had fitted 1000 Megabytes of images. That was my Third and Final Warning. But I chose to ignore all three.
 

Photo tragedy

(Act Two)

Confident that my photos were all safe on a CD, I proceeded to erase the card.
(Cue ominous music here)

Photo tragedy

(Act Three)

Back home I started to download all the photos onto my computer. When I came to the disk that drugstore guy made me, i noticed the download was fast. Too fast. I checked the folder where those photos were and it read 290 Megabytes. Confused, I checked out the images themselves. In utter horror I discovered that the MORON had shrinked ALL my photos to less than a third in size!!!! So instead of a 1200 x1600 pixel image, I had a 580 x 623 thumbprint. I thought I was gonna convulse, puke and pass out all at the very same time. I wanted to cry, I wanted to die. Only by sheer force of will did I prevent my bowels from losing it completely. The photos became utterly useless. Not only did the guy reduce them, but he erased the metafile data (the part of the image that says when the image was taken, if flash was used, if the image is vertical or horizontal, etc.). Even the original names were erased.

Now, what?

Well, obviously murdering that idiotic drugstore guy is out of the question, now that I am back here in Kzanderallia. So I’ve had to concentrate on making peace with the fact that most of the photos on that card will be lost permanently. There is a bit of hope, however.

The obligatory library analogy

Just like a computer disc is never fully erased, a memory card always retains a bit of info after erasure. Think of the disk as a library that has program files instead of books. It also has a couple of drawers with all the files sorted by title, genre or author. Imagine that you set fire to the drawers, but the files stay intact. That’s what happens when you erase a hard disk or a memory card. The books are fine, but searching for a particular title now requires a lot of extra work.

Hackers to the rescue!

I’ve asked a hacker friend to help me out. He is a major computer geek.
If he can’t get them pictures, NO ONE WILL.
So hopefully, by next Friday I’ll have some of my photos back and maybe my homicidal thirst toward drugstore employees will be satiated.
Or not.

I'm back!!!

After two grueling yet fun-filled weeks, the Kzanderall USA Tour 2005 has come to a close.
Stay tuned for the full story, coming soon to a blog near you!

Truly disturbing

Isn’t this the creepiest photo of a kiss you’ve ever seen??
(shudder)

The Kzanderall USA Tour starts today!

Yes, once again it’s  time for me to dust off my suitcase and passport and leave my beloved homeland for new sights and adventures. This time my destination will be Land of the Free and Home of the Brave. Yes, I am off to the United States of America.

As usual, I will be visiting my world-hopping sister and do a little wandering around on the side.  This particular tour will take me to the wonderful cities of Cinncinatti, Chicago and New York. In this opportunity, my younger sister couldn’t come along, so my mother is taking her place.

Ok, I think that’s about it.

AMERICA, I’M READY!!


Are you?

Long car trips: THEY'RE GREAT!!

Some people hate long car trips. I don’t. Specially if I don’t have to drive and am able to chill while somebody else has to deal with crazy bus drivers and maniac truckers.

Reason to like long car trips #1: The scenery

I enjoy gazing out the window. I like how the panorama seems to remain the same even though I know it keeps changing every fraction of a second. The distant mountains turn into small villages, a patch of wilderness or maybe a surreal sunset. It is a continuous slide show that throws color and scenes at me in a way that can never be fully captured by painting or video.

And going thru cities is almost more fun than driving in the country. Whenever you go into a populated area, a million little stories unfold in front of my eyes at brisk speed. A couple walking down the street: she is carrying all the bags, while her male companion carries nothing. What does it mean? Is it that he’s macho scum? Or maybe he has a bad back? What would it be like to be him? To be her? When did they meet? What’s their story? How will it end? The possibilites are endless. Multiply that for every man, woman and child in the street and you see how the world can be quite entertaining for the alert voyeur... I mean, observer.

Reason to like long car trips #2: The music

When you travel by car, you get to enjoy some musical amusement. You are exposed to the driver’s musical tastes, which may or may not concur with your own. In the second case, you are faced with music you would never pick by yourself and, who knows? it may be music that you may end up adding to your own playlist. Or it could be hours of neverending torture... It all depends.

But if you have a say in what the music is gonna be, then it’s your opportunity to share your personal musical predilections with others. You get to be a DJ for a few hours. Be warned, however, that some people may not agree that the Enrique Iglesias is God’s gift to music.

Reason to like long car trips #3: The conversations

A lot of car trips consist of two people and two people only: the driver and the co-pilot (also known as “That Lazy Sonuva That’s Just Sitting There Lookin’ At The Window And Playing With The Radio While I’m Driving My Butt Off”). It’s a great setup for a deep, meaningful talk.   

It’s in moments like these when two friends are able to deepen their bond as they discuss the profound themes of the universe, like What do women want? and What’s the shortest LEGAL way to get into their pants...WITHOUT paying for it?
You know, all the stuff that has troubled Man since the beginning of time.

The pros and cons of being a confessor

I’ve always loved it when people become so comfortable with me that they allow themselves to open their hearts to me and tell me things they have buried deep within, things they can’t tell to their families, coworkers, or other friends.

When somebody tells you a personal secret, it is a grand feeling. It makes one feel ultra-special. I am always overwhelmed by the trust that has been placed on me and my discression. I think to myself, “Nobody else knows that, just me!!” That’s ultra cool.

However, sometimes folks come and tell me things that are just way too juicy. Those bits of information are the ones I really struggle with, for the primal urge of telling secrets is very, very powerful. In those cases, I begin wishing my memory was able to be wiped clean at the push of a button. Sometimes I have to make such an effort to keep my mouth shut that the veins in my neck start to bloat and they feel like they’re gonna burst at any given moment. It’s just like passing a kidney stone, but without being able to expel the damned thing out.

Lucky for me, I’ve been provided with a lousy long term memory. So even if a secret has given me a bit of trouble to keep, it eventually gets deleted a little while after it enters my brain. It’s a real blessing.

When cushy ain’t kosher

I came in contact with cushy toilet seats about three years ago, at my girlfriend’s house.

In case you don’t know what I’m talking about, picture a toilet with a soft pillow shaped like a toilet seat.  That’s a cushy seat.
Back then, I remember it was such a different experience, at first I didn’t quite know what to think. I also remember it was quite comfy yet odd.

I even tried unsuccesfuly to convince my folks to get one.

A little while later, I forgot about the whole thing.

Some time later, my mom replaced one of the house toilet seats with a cushy seat. I tell you, it wasn’t pleasurable. After being so accustomed to a hard seat, sitting on that thing is eerie. It feels too soft. Obscenely soft. It wasn’t a problem at my in-laws, ‘cause it was a new toilet and everything. But this is one hard toilet seat I knew and loved. You can’t just go and change stuff on me all of a sudden.

GIVE ME BACK MY HARD SEAT!!!

Caller’s remorse

I just called a friend long distance to her cell phone. The conversation was very nice and we had a good laugh. I just hope I can at least chuckle when the phone bill gets here.

I don’t want to know THAAAAT!

My boss down at the Culture Publishing House is very concerned with his health. Flu, indigestion, sores, allergies, you name it, he’s got it. Some people would say that he borders on hypocondria, but even if he is, that’s ok with me. Everybody is entitled to a hobby, right? The ugly part is that he likes to narrate every symptom to the smallest detail.

I really wish he didn’t. I mean, c’mon…  telling your coworkers about your fifth bathroom break is not endearing.
Not by a long shot.

Mother's Day

Fun fact: unlike the American holiday, which is fixed on a day (2nd. Sunday of May) in Kzanderallia it’s fixed on a specific date. So for us, May 10th is always Mother’s Day.
 
This is a date when folks try to convince other people (and themselves) they aren’t totally lousy as sons. Most try to achieve this the material way, buying gifts left and right. The wealthy get appliances, vehicles, jewelry or clothing. The underprivileged like me go for candy, flowers or balloons, depending on each one’s own sense of guilt. I went for all three.
 
This year I sent flowers to my mother-in-law, my granny and my mom. My granny and my mom got balloons and chocolates. My mom also got an authentic KzanderCard©.
 
A bit much? Perhaps.  But I have a philosophy regarding Mother’s Day:
“A man who spens too much on his mother is emotionally sick, but not as sick as the man who doesn’t spend enough.”

 
Checking up on the Flaviuses

Remember Flavius?? After he and his delightful wife came back from their honeymoon, they moved into an apartment a few blocks from where I live.  Last night, they invited me to dinner.
 
I felt like I was walking right into an IKEA catalog. It’s amazing: everything looks modern and stylish. Very few frames are placed on the walls, giving the room a very spacious feel.
 
However, appearances can be deceiving. The whole dining set (dining table, 5 chairs, two little shelves) cost them about  $250, total. Apparently, some German teacher got her contract revoked and had to sell all her furniture to get some fast cash. Now that is some bonified good luck.


 
Sometimes UNRATED is a real warning

Fully aware of what stuck-ups censors can be, I have eagerly looked forward to the release of UNRATED versions of  my favorite movies. There you can see the stories in their unadulterated splendor. Finally, I can see the humorous scenes that had to be left on the cutting floor just because some prude thought they were unappropriate.

It was with this mindset that I got myself a copy of Team America: World Police... UNRATED!!.
Bad idea. You know what? Lemme say that one more time with bigger and bolder letters:
BAD  IDEA.
This spoof on puppet shows featured the gross out humour, celebrity bashing and trucker language South Park creators Matt Stone and Trey Parker are famous for.
So far so good, right??
However, without warning, I was treated to some unmentionable and gag-inducing sex scenes. I mean, I considered myself a connoisseur of amatory cinema, and yet I was ready to throw my lunch all over the place. Now I am actually considering getting a lobotomy to purge those images from my tender, innocent brain.
If you haven’t seen Team America yet, kids... do yourself a favor and get yourself the ‘R’ version.
You will NEVER regret it.


The fun of translingual faux pas

I was chatting with a friend in Spanish and wanted to express laughter. And how did I write it?? Hahahahaha. Then I realized that laughter is written with a ‘J’ in Spanish: Jajajajajaja.

Oh, this has gotta be my lamest post ever.

Flavius

Flavius and I have been friends almost since I can remember. We met when we were both 5. We went to the same school until the sixth grade, when he switched. But we never stopped being friends, even after we started to see each other less and less and our lives started to grow apart.

I hadn't spoken to him in over a year when he popped up with startling news: he was getting married!

The indecent proposal

When the invitation arrived, however, it was just my name on the card. My mom was crushed, for she considered herself to be friends with Flavius's folks. So this seemed a slap in the face for her. Although I tried to explain to her that it could've been a mistake in labeling, she refused outright to go.

I was put in an awkward position. Should I stick by my mom and not go? Or should I stick by my friend and go?

I had a talk with my mother and resolved that I shouldn't mind her feud and go cause Flavius was my friend and he wanted me to be there.
Only after getting her blessing, I attended.

At the church

Ivy and I arrived about fifteen minutes before the wedding ceremony ended. We had to stand, for all the seats were taken. I got the chance to see my childhood friend standing in the isle, his black smoking filled to the brim with equal parts of shock and excitement. The bride looked beautiful, like a princess all dressed up in white. After the ceremony, the couple ran, not walked, to a green Mercedes that was waiting for them.

What followed was a mad dash for the hotel where the reception was being held. You know how crazy Friday Night traffic can be, and the place was about four miles away. Luckily, we got there rather fast.

At the hotel

The hotel was decorated in an elegant and sober style. Ivy and I found a table that was just the right distance between the dance floor and the exit. If we either wanted to party down or run away, we were nicely positioned for both.

Then the new couple walked in and stepped onto the dance floor. They looked just as elegant they had back in the church. The music started to flow from the twelve man orchestra. As they started to move, I know the whole audience shared a single thought: "Oh God, why didn't anybody think of dancing lessons??"

The case of the uptight bride

The couple invited everyone to make a toast and then proceded to visit each table and have their picture taken with every one. Around halfways into it, I could notice the bride was frowning quite a bit. She seemed quite stressed, in fact. I guess after a while of carrying that humongous (yet beautiful) wedding dress, I would be grouchy as well. Oh well, she’ll have time to relax. That’s what honeymoons are for, right?

Aftermath

The rest of the wedding was uneventful. Ivy and I chatted with the rest of the guests seated at the table. The gentleman seated at my left turned out to be a close friend of Flavius’s folks, and regaled us with wonderful anecdotes and stories. He told us how he and his wife have been together for 41 years (6 as a boyfriend and girlfriend and 35 as a married couple). Ivy and I had a great time. We danced a bit and the food was great (due to our splendid location, we were one of the first to reach the buffet). I got to say hi to my friend, take a photo at his side, and wish him godspeed in his new journey as a married man. We slipped out a little before the wedding cake was cut. I was getting kinda tired and Ivy had classes early, so the both of us had to rest. But I bet Ivy stayed awake all night thinking about how her own wedding’s gonna be like.

Guess what I'm eating!

No, nothing fancy like caviar.
No, nothing odd like monkey brains (They looked tasty in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom!)

Ok, give up??

...I'M EATING SOGGY JELL-O!

No, my fridge isn't out of order.
No, my granny hasn't rebelled and stopped making me food.

The thing is that I was kinda pekish when I came in tonight and didn't want something dry like a muffin or heavy like pie. So I started diggin thru the refrigerator and found this bowl of semi-solid gelatin, which my granny warned me not to eat cause it wasn't ready yet. But I'm such a freaky eater that it didn't matter to me that it was soft and soggy and so I took out a spoon and proceeded to clean up the whole gelatin bowl. It was cranberry-flavored. Yum!

Now don't look at me like that.
I already told you I'm a freaky eater.

Late night deliveries

It happened again.

I came home, looked at the clock and realized:

A.- That I had totally forgotten to take back DVDs to the video store
B.- That I had 11 minutes left to reach the shop before I had to pay about $10 in late fees.

So I ran down the stairs, dashed out the door, got into my car and drove off like the Devil himself was chasin' me. I must've set a new record for Most Traffic Violations in 5 Minutes. Lucky me, no cops were around, and managed to make it with about 2 whole minutes to spare. Then I realized I had gone to the wrong video shop!! So I revved my car and took off. Once I got to the RIGHT store, I sprinted past the door, turned over the DVDs to the clerk and allowed myself to gasp for air.

This always happens to me. Every time I rent videos, I end up forgetting to return the movies, and end up taking them back at the very last minute. This sucks.

However, after I've succesfully handed back the videos, I am usually overcome by such a rush that it makes the whole thing worthwhile. It's like I'm an adrenaline junkie or something.

Tonight I rented a couple of more videos. What can I say? I need my fix.

Super cookie!

My girlfriend baked me a cookie today.



Have I ever told you how much I TOTALLY LOVE this woman??

I had forgotten about this

After you neglect your blog for a while, you forget about how it is: the frustration of the delays in publishing, the problems when editing posts and the anguish of comments.

What can I do? I like feedback on the stuff I do. Does this mean I'm insecure? Heck yeah!

And while I'm coming off clean, I'd also like to state for the record that I don't like piña coladas OR getting caught in the rain.

How could you not like classical music??

It's not that I don't like classical music, but I never felt enthused by it, you know what i mean??
No more!! Check out Bond. These four English ladies have managed to put the adrenaline back into a fiddle!!

Don't let it happen to you!

Did you ever see that Friends’ episode where Ross had an espectacular fit of rage just because somebody had eaten his sandwich??
I thought that it was utterly absurd for a grown man to have that kind of reaction for such a small thing.

Until it happened to me, just today.

At lunchtime, I opened the office fridge to get my food out and noticed I was missing one Tupperware dish. Sure enough, the food container that had some of my Granny’s   famous breaded chicken was gone! Apparently somebody mistook my container for his/her own and had a lunch way better than they would’ve had otherwise.

I have to admit, this was bound to happen, for I never placed any distinguishing marks on my food containers, so they were fair game.
Oh, but trust me, that won’t happen again!! Next time my boys go out into the field they are gonna be plastered with my name in every possible size and shape.

Anyway, the food theft meant I had to go to the nearby Burger Joint to get something to replace my missing main course.
I must admit the burger was OK and everything, but it was no homemade chicken!! Never will a deep-fry cook match my Granny's prowess on the kitchen!

Oh, when I think about whole issue my blood starts boiling inside my veins!! But the finger still can’t be pointed at anybody in particular. As I write this, there are no witnesses and nobody has come forward to take the blame.
Heh, I guess I better forget about it before the rage builds inside me and I end up shotgunning coworkers just like a postman on a bad day.

Got Skype??

A few months ago, my sister told me about Skype, and I was totally thrilled by the concept of being able to call people thru the internet, for free! As soon as I got cable internet on my computer, I downloaded the Skype app and in matter of minutes I was talking with people hundreds of miles away, without paying a cent!! As time passed, I got to talk with friends from the US, Brazil, Europe... Imagine, the whole world united in my desktop! Isn't technology beautiful?

I am spreading the word. Everyone should have this beautiful technology.

God bless Skype.

(Groan)

I woke up today with an extremely sore throat, body pain and exhaustion. I can barely talk or swallow. It seems my larynx is painfully swollen.
All of this is due to the fact that I stayed up all night talking over that f***ing internet phone.

God damn Skype.

Fixin' up the place

After almost ONE YEAR of blogging, I finally got me some time to tweak up my blog a bit.
Heck, now it's all customized!!

What did you say??
No, the colors are the same.
No, I didn't change the fonts, either.
Um, yeah, the layout was unchanged too.

OK, OK!! So it still looks pretty much like Blog Template #6!

But hey: at least it has my logo now.