Drumming keys

My brain was running 250 mph last night that I couldn't even think of even sleeping even when it was late enough for sleep. I turned on my laptop and hailed inspiration in writing a capsule review for Californication which is meant to be submitted for Richard's new blog. That went smoothly until I had decided to entertain myself with Kirepapa. All throughout the first episode, I kept on mistaking it for another demented yaoi anime I had watched before where the 'father' was in cahoots with the son in more ways than one. Anyway, it totally woke up my senses that it led me to checking the manga version. The changes and comparison did not vary much but two of the chapters were intentionally not put into the anime version although majority of the panels were adapted onscreen.

That said, I slept past midnight and woke up around nine with my brain and body realizing the consequences of a 250 mph adrenaline rush last night. Inevitably, I have to succumb to the fact that nearly everything turned out rather well today. The four torrent downloads (Rachmaninov, Making of the Resistance--a total fucking failure, Where the Wild Things Are and a BBC Horizon episode) I managed were completed throughout the night and the books I ordered on ebay were delivered on the same day. For the first time since I started buying things online, I came face to face with a courier and my desired package. It's Roald Dahl's Fantastic Mr. Fox which was recently adapted to film. The other two books, Voltaire's Candide and a thesaurus, mysteriously landed on my grandparents' house two phases away from us. Even papa was baffled why it reached their home when the packages obviously had enough address details to determine that the street indicated is far from being located at phase 3.

Anyway, it's my sister's birthday today and Uwe and mom are currently in a silent war because my sister only got home this afternoon. Mom has compared my sister and my dad, who's celebrating his birthday tomorrow, since time immemorial that they both run the temperament of an active volcano. I cannot agree more although I'd prefer keeping my gob shut when mom's diatribe still rang my ears invalid.

Show me how it's done

Is it really too much to ask for those big, conglomerate companies to minimize the process for application? Sure, they're big enough to conquer the world in one quaff but what the hell is it with fifteen steps to ensure even the first experience of riding the MRT is indicated on your data? Obviously, a resume sometimes does not cover everything the company needs but jeezy creezy, it's not even worth the effort. I'm also, indubitably, deluding myself if I really think I can get in ADB or UN even without a master's degree. Perhaps it is possible, after all, a high school batchmate recently shared that he's working at ADB and he doesn't even have a dream for the future for heaven's sake. The universe really has a weird sense of humour. I cannot even fathom where its wisdom lies.

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Muse's music video for Undisclosed Desires is pretty ridiculous. It has no sensical form whatsoever and apart from that adrogynous dancer doing a piss poor job of a dance interpretation of the song, the whole vid is a mess. Matt's overall appearance is cringe worthy especially those hideous sunglasses. Dom's darker mane suits him more and I reach out in protest why Chris' camera time exceeds that of a blink of an eye. I like the song, really. The bass line, the soft distortion and the chorus treatment are a tad awesome. I can't understand why the vid failed to live up as a tribute to the song.

Capital!

Mum asks me if I bothered sending the neighbor's third son a Christmas present; I'm the godmother, that is. I shrugged it off since I already gave one to the kid on his christening which, by the way, I was forced to do after my mum caught me and my sister howling in laughter over the kid's face. He looks like a baby tianak.

It's not so much as a social nicety that I'm highly affected by these kinds of appreciation. In the first place, I was asked to be the godmother; I did not offer. Like a good friend had mentioned, the christening gift should be bombastic to conclude the anticipated lifetime supply of yearly presents. I'm no saint, that's for sure. I won't point out that Catholics are half hypocrites that they go beyond what they can to maintain proper social conducts, I'm sure half the world's population also have that kind of mentality.


The mood for applying for another job is still on vacation. The one time I tried when I wanted to update my data on ADB's recruitment site, everything went downhill fast. I can't even blame my bandwidth because I there's only one PC running in the house. So, fuck them. I'll try again along with the other job-searching websites when I'm in the mood to roll out my patience.

I'm finished with the first part of the Valley of Fear. I find this novel to have a better ground than Hound of the Baskervilles because there are more characters involved in the problem and the solution. Inspector MacDonald is a pure twat; he's had less experience thus he's more likely to be the bloodthirsty type to not pay attention to the subtle nuances Holmes is pointing out. He's a good stooge, though. What impressed me about The Tragedy of Birlstone was the continuous conundrum on whose to blame. There's a limitation to the people to be pointed out and seeing Mr. Douglas himself emerge from the corner is a good eye opener. After all, it was only Holmes amongst the characters and the reader that treasured that hidden knowledge.

Detached

I fail to recognize why sleep passed me by last night until the wee hours of the morning. Granted, one in the morning is still rather late than early but I'm beyond exhausted mentally and physically that I'm literally stumped in bed last night. Twisting and turning, and listening to Muse for the sake of gaining some inspiration in writing a review merely extended my sole conscious existence inside the house. Could it be the philosophical diversion on whether the physics skin and water contact every other day be relevant to my dilemma last night? I'm not sure, though I'm adamant on the new tradition. After all, water conservation is the key. Or so AIM say back then, and look at their olfactory-challenged students.

Reading and enjoying The Hound of the Baskervilles makes me giddy in success. After all, it's not everyday I binge on reading especially for the past year or so. Being naturally wary perhaps took out the initial sense of adventure in reading a crime-mystery story. In short, I kept doubting every person Holmes and Dr. Watson acquainted with. Sherlock Holmes' personality immediately purports a highly intelligent, critical and standoffish man. He takes pleasure in riddles that plague his genius and several times gives approbation when due of Dr. Watson and rescind it to a sketch that leads to more of his discovery. I sympathize with Dr. Watson; he's loyal and intrepid, but still dependent on his partner's aptitude in ironing the edges. Dr. Mortimer strikes me as a dubious person considering his amicable and unambitious demeanour; Stapleton's too charming and invitingly cheerful disposition ticked my curiosity. I hunched that his so called sister has a far more platonic relationship with him. It's an exhilarating novel without the excessive opportunity to strike and detail what is more than necessary. Therefore, I like Doyle's plots and plot telling skills.

I can consider that reading this is somewhat a preparation for watching the movie adaptation however, I loaned the second volume of Sherlock Holmes nearly six months ago after my first transition to the jobless era. I took pleasure in several pages of the novel but switched without any justification I can recall to reading John Berendt.

Now I'm off to watch for Voltaire's Candide on ebay.ph. No one has placed a bid yet and I'm pretty assured that no one is going to buy it.

Mash Game: Predict Your Future at eSPIN.com

		I will marry Matt Bellamy.
		After a wild honeymoon, We will settle down in Madrid in our fabulous Shack.
		We will have 6 kid(s) together.
		Our family will zoom around in a White Aston Martin.
		I will spend my days as a Embalmer, and live happily ever after.

Needful Things

Dear JB,

Try to start the year right; that means setting up a disciplined routine that does not involve turning the computer on and off at the designated time. If you really can't cope with the dilapidated state your brain is in right now, it's time to wake up! You can start doing that by following these simple rules tomorrow. If you can do the first few steps, I'm sure the rest will follow in due time.

Remember, the success of this first step can add to the guarantee of you slowly getting back to writing. Your few drabbles on your LJ is a proof of that.


1. Clean your room.

2. Re-arrange your books and list them on a paper.

3. Re-arrange your list into how you want to read them; the unfinished ones not necessarily your priority.

4. Meditate. You know you can.

5. Start reading the book you really want to read.

6. Do not look for books you currently do not have. Finish what you have right now.

With a flat

My lack of spirit hits an all-time low today as our household suffered half the day of blackout. I could not even open a book because I would regard it as a futile attempt to salvage my reading habit just because I don't have another choice. The power returned nearly six in the evening and I still had to call up Smartbro to re-check the internet but it's was my fault, really. The firewall was just blocking the Smartbro portal.

I also forgot that I have to request for a COE at CA for future employment purposes. I'm not sure if I can drop by the office any time but perhaps I can ask my co-researchers to visit.

Merde, this is getting bad.

Heaven help me.