my cellphones

I think it was in my second year of college that I got my first cellphone. I didn’t really have any interest in gadgets and stuff (and I still don’t, even now), and a cellphone wasn’t something I considered a necessity, so when my dad gave me that Mitsubishi Trium, I didn’t know what on earth to do with it. And it wasn’t like he gave it to me like a gift. He sort of showed it to me, like, “Hey, take a look at this. Try it out for a bit.” So I pushed a few buttons, turned it around and said something like, “Yeah, it’s pretty nifty.” “Hold on to it for a while,” I think he said. “In case you need to contact us for something.” So I punched my parents’ phone numbers and held on to it for a while.

I knew it wasn’t brand new when I got it; my dad said someone came over to our house and sold it coz they needed the money, and it never occured to me to think it might have been stolen. Once in a while someone I didn’t know would text in, looking for someone else, and I’d tell them I didn’t know anyone of the name, and they would pretty much leave me alone after that.

For the first few months I pretty much used my cellphone only as a timepiece, until I asked a friend for a phone number of anyone we knew. He gave me one, and, pretending I had typed in a random number, I texted a hello. It began as a prank, pretending to be a complete stranger, but I ended up sharing parts of me I could not share aloud. It was then that I had made one of my closest friends, a textmate, penpal and occassional shrink. She found out who I was eventually (it was inevitable, I knew) but even then we continued to be friends, albeit only over short messages and occassional emails. Nowadays, we just greet each other on birthdays, special holidays, and d-day.

When my Trium eventually broke (it kept falling from unbelievable heights), I went phone-less for a while until Christmas, when “Santa” got me a Mitsubishi Trium Mars. I loved it instantly, and used up my load overnight sending my then-girlfriend a bunch of Christmas greetings. It also had a pretty cool game which my classmate Rick called “penguin penguin”, and whenever we met he’d borrow my phone (sometimes we’d trade phones) to try and beat my high score. Eventually, the buttons wore down and I had to do some tweaking here and there just to get it to work, but as long as I could still call and text, I had no plans to part with it.

When I got to Manila, though, it was unmanageable. Some buttons wouldn’t work and no amount of tweaking would get it to function properly. So, after saying goodbye to penguin penguin, I finally bought a Nokia. I wanted to avoid buying a Nokia for as long as I could, for the mere reason that it was popular and I didn’t (and don’t) like going with the crowd, but it was the cheapest thing I could find that was still practical. It was one of the last Nokia 3315’s, and it cost me 4,500 pesos, to date the most I’ve ever spent on something for myself. Yes, I’m a cheap-ass.

I have no real meaningful memories of my Nokia, but I think it’s pretty much served me well for the years it was in service. A bunch of my friends had new cool camera-phones with colored screens and polyphonic ringtones, but I’ve never been the envious type and have very rarely wanted things I didn’t need. Food didn’t need to be five-star, chocolate didn’t have to be gourmet, and cellphones didn’t have to play mp3s or take 3 megapixel photos. I’m a pretty low-maintenance guy, I’m proud to say. Give me a pen and a piece of paper and I’m happy.

I have to admit though, when I saw my mom’s phone, a little light-blue Samsung clamshell (I don’t know its model number), I fell in love with it instantly. It didn’t have any games, and it’s digicam with weak, but I loved that it wasn’t the usual sleek black “high tech” look most phones these days try to go for. It was personal, friendly, and “kawaii”. ^_^ I wanted.

And then my Nokia conked out. One morning, my eyes bloodshot with conjunctivitis, I smelled a faint burnt smell emanating from my phone. It was dead and, no matter how many times I switched batteries and pushed the power button, it wouldn’t resuscitate. Gloom. Then, being the great person in the world that she is, my mom gave me her phone. ^_^ Happy.

What I enjoyed most about having a camera-phone was that any time I needed to, I could listen to my nephew remi sing ABC, or watch a video of my other nephew Ryen sneezing, or look at a picture of my zee looking at me through a camera lens. So as soon as I lost my (mom’s) cellphone, I felt utterly homesick.

To be sure, I didn’t really lose the phone like I would lose, say, my homework. It got stolen, in the rush of the morning MRT commute, somewhere between Cubao and Buendia Stations on what has become probably the most memorable day of my life (I’ll write about it some other time). And when I realized that my zee wasn’t just a text message away, I was suddenly so lonely. I bought an interim phone the next day.

I am now the proud owner of a Nokia 1208, the cheapest phone I could find in such short notice. At 1,750 pesos, its colored screen and three lines of text are rather comical, perhaps in some strange way endearing. It has no camera, no voice and video recorder, and no background image, but it tells the time and allows me to hear my zee’s voice. That’s good enough for me, for now.

Public Service Announcement

It is with regret that I must inform you that I no longer have a cellular phone. -_- If, for whatever reason, you need to contact me, send me an email at frank3manuel at gmail (yahoo is blocked at the office). If it’s urgent, contact zee.

T___T

The Sixth of August

The Sixth of August is a sleepy Day.

His alarm goes off at 5:30 in the morning, but he switches it off for a few more minutes of shut-eye, and ends up sleeping for an hour and a half. By the time he finally gets up, he has to wait in line for a bathroom he now shares with five other Days. It isn’t a long wait, but if he had gotten up just a little bit later, it would have been. He takes a mental note to wake up earlier tomorrow. And next year.

It takes him two hours to get to the office, and for the first time in a long while he is forty minutes late. He takes his seat, turns on his computer and does his job.

Suddenly, it is 1881, and a boy is born. The Sixth of August watches him, weighs him, and decides his destiny. The boy is named Alexander Flemming, and as a result of sheer chance and carelessness, he will discover penicillin, revolutionalize the world of medicine, and save millions of lives by accident.

The Sixth of August checks his watch. It is 1890. Convicted murderer William Kemmler is sitting on a chair, his arms and legs strapped, his face covered. An audience is gathered before him. A generator is charged. “Do it properly,” Kemmler says. “I’m in no hurry.” The switch is thrown. Kemmler is the first man to be executed by electric chair. It takes two shocks of up to two thousand volts to kill him, and even then it takes him eight minutes to die.

With a tap of his keyboard, the Sixth of August is back in his office, staring at a computer screen. A birth and a death. That’s enough for one morning. Time for lunch.

He eats lunch with some friends near the office, talking about nothing in particular, anything to distract him for what needed to be done later that afternoon. He had the terrible task of cutting a deep wound into the conscience of humanity, a task he would very much not rather have.

Back in the office, the Sixth of August takes a deep breath, and taps a command on his keyboard. It is 1945. He finds himself in Hiroshima, Japan. An air-raid warning is issued as American formation of planes was sighted overhead. Civilians run to shelters, but because the American force was small, no fighters engaged them, and the air-raid alert was lifted. Fifteen minutes later, the Americans drop “Little Boy”, and 600 meters directly above Shima Surgical Clinic, it detonates. 70,000 people are killed instantly. Those who survive the explosion awake to a decimated city, dead or dying loved ones, and an entire world destroyed. Ultimately, more than 140,000 people die, the overwhelming majority of them civilians.

The Sixth of August shakes his head. There is a second bomb, a second city, a second reaping of innocent souls. It is scheduled for three days later, in Nagasaki, where a number of Hiroshima’s survivors have fled.

Click click. Close. That’s enough killing for today. Let some other Day handle the rest.

Before the end of the day, the Sixth of August liberates a few countries, creates the Internet, cuts down the world’s oldest tree, warns US President Bush about al Qaeda’s plans to attack the country, and continues the daily cycle of life and death. By 6:40, it is time to go home.

Stopping briefly for two Jumbo Burger Machine burgers (barbecue sauce, no ketchup, no mayo), he waits in line for the train. It is an uncharacteristically long queue (the longest he’s seen, no kidding), so he reads a few chapters of Murakami’s After Dark while waiting. Gaiman’s Fragile Things is too heavy to hold in one hand, so that one he leaves for home. For later.

He totally forgets that he should be studying for his Sun Certification for Java Programmer exam tomorrow.

It is now seven minutes past midnight. The Sixth of August’s day has ended.

Goodnight.

—-

[p.s. This is what happens when all you do at the office is browse Wikipedia all day.]
[p.p.s. Thanks for the books, zee and Red!]
[p.p.p.s. I should really study now, hehe.]

The Last Lecture

Yesterday, Randy Pausch died of pancreatic cancer. A Computer Science professor at Carnegie Mellon University, Pausch is remembered as a pioneer of virtual reality research, his contributions to Computer Science education, and most famously for his “Last Lecture”, a part of a series in which professors were asked to give a hypothetical “one last lecture before you died”. For Pausch’s talk on Sept 18, 2007, the “Last Lecture” was more than hypothetical; a month before his talk, his cancer was pronounced terminal.

His lecture was entitled “Achieving Your Childhood Dreams”. It’s really educational; I learned quite a bit (”when you’re screwing up and nobody’s saying anything anymore, that means they gave up (on you)”, “wait long enough and people will surprise and impress you. if you’re pissed off and angry at someone, you just haven’t given them enough time” and how to tell a person he’s being a jerk while being constructive (”you know, it’s really unfortunate that you’re being perceived to be arrogant, because it’s gonna limit the things you’re going to be able to accomplish.”)). And it’s also wonderfully, wonderfully inspiring because mainly, well, he was dying and yet so full of life. It offers a nice perspective. It’s worth the full 1 hour 16 minutes of it.

You can view it here. http://youtube.com/watch?v=ji5_MqicxSo&feature=related

i’m allowed to whine once in a while.

it’s payday, and all i can think about is how far away payday is. -_- i am probably the brokest person in my tax bracket.

Three weeks

In the three weeks I’ve been in manila I have..

watched two movies,

gotten lost once,

wandered through eighteen malls,

seen one NBA player,

ridden three train lines,

taken the train once going the wrong direction,

eaten eight apples,

missed dinner once,

been late for work twice,

used the upstairs (poor excuse of a) gym once,

burnt my tongue twice,

felt three earthquakes,

offered up my seat thrice,

read forty comic books,

completed one story,

watched all fifteen (one minute) anime episodes,

made three new friends (office batchmates, actually),

shaved thrice,

combed my hair zero times,

walked through makati’s slums once,

talked to two foreigners,

helped one stranger,

bought (and finished reading) one book,

changed my phone number once,

got offered one job (sort of),

bought twenty-one articles of clothing,

played one arcade game thrice,

and drunk two cups of taho.

All in all an okay three weeks.

I write too much nonsense.

I like writing dialogues.I like trying to express relationships and events through characters’ conversations. I especially like trying to project their emotions and personalities through their words despite the limitations of spoken language. I like writing dialogues because the things we say more often than not, and whether we intend them to or not, obscure the things we mean. And yet nothing has more potential for honest expression than words. A picture might paint the wrong thousand words and actions can be misinterpreted, but the right words, carefully chosen, can correct them.

I want to write honest conversations.

On weekends and after work, when I’m walking around aimlessly through random malls, I sometimes find an empty bench, take out my notebook and scribble a few lines of conversation. What would a cheating husband tell his lover? What would a man confide to his friend? What would a prostitute tell the customer who asks only for a story?

My imagination is over-active. It’s not very good, not even very productive, but it does like to imaginea lot of things. So if once in a while I manage to post something, please don’t mind the garbage. I need an outlet of sorts.

dialogue number one

you.

hello. mind if i sit down?

what for?

i’d like to talk to you.

you can do that standing.

i imagine you’ve heard then?

emma told me right away. you broke up with her for me.

that’s right.

that was stupid. you’re not getting me. no matter what you say, no matter what she says.

did she say something?

she said we’d be good together. i said you can go to hell.

please don’t misunderstand. i didn’t break up with her because i wanted you. i broke up with her because i realized when i met you that she wasn’t the kind of person i was looking for, the kind of person who.. suited me. you weren’t the reason i broke up with her, you simply showed me the reason to break up with her. there is a difference.

so you don’t want me?

actually, i do.

then whatever difference there is doesn’t matter. go away.

i’m not asking for much, just a little of your time?

what for?

for a cup of coffee, a little conversation, perhaps lunch or dinner? a little time to get to know each other.

as you can see, i have my cup of coffee, and we’re having our little conversation. lunch and dinner i prefer having alone, or with emma. you uninvited yourself when you broke up with her. and i think i know enough about you to know that we don’t belong together, and you seem to think you know enough about me to think that we do. so tell me, why should i give you a little of my time when i’d much rather spend it finishing this book?

because when you’re done with that book and all the books after it, you will be alone. you will look for someone who suits you, who understands you. someone who’s been through the same things you’ve been through.

someone like you?

maybe. maybe not. but isn’t it something worth spending a little of your time to find out?

i’ve spent enough of my time finding out. i’ve spent years of my time having cups of coffee, hours of conversation, years “getting to know each other”. and in the end so much of me has been wasted, so much of my time, just to find someone who suited me. a few times i found someone. one time i wanted to marry him. but in the end either they didn’t suit me after all, or they met someone else who made them realize that i didn’t suit them. so to answer your question, no, it’s not really worth it anymore.

…

sorry. please leave.

i can’t. i’m sorry. if i leave now i will never see you again.

that’s the idea.

give me a chance. one chance. one conversation. if we enjoy it, we can have another one. if we enjoy that, we can maybe have another one over dinner. and then maybe the next week. one chance isn’t so bad. lacking that, at least give me a reason.

you hurt my friend.

you know that’s not a reason. emma is strong, you know that. she’ll get over it if she hasn’t already.

fine. you have one chance. one minute. and then you leave.

fair enough. what shall i -

tell me about me.

… okay. you’re probably a middle child - third or fourth - because you don’t talk much to most people. you read a lot, around three books a week, sci-fi, fantasy and.. romance. you started reading quite early but started needed glasses only a couple of months ago. you tried writing around high-school but gave it up quickly. hmm. you prefer texting people instead of calling them up. you prefer mountains to beaches. you subscribe to science magazines and love the discovery channel. you believe in UFOs but not in god. you want to learn figure-skating but you hate the outfits they make you wear. you haven’t spoken to your mother in years. you befriended emma back in grade-school because she was as cool as you secretly wanted to be. your favorite color is blue. you are not in speaking terms with any of your ex-boyfriends, and you think the coffee here is disgusting but it helps keep the yuppie crowd away.

time’s up.

no it’s not.

emma must have told you -

she told me about the figure-skating. everything else is, well, everything else is my image of you. it’s what i see when i see you, and i can’t help but see that a lot of it is me, too. except, of course, the figure-skating.

…

listen. i like you. and i’m sorry that this is all too fast and all too honest, but this sort of chance doesn’t happen to a lot of people. so if by any small chance you don’t hate me, i would like to sit down. would you mind terribly if i sat down? i promise i won’t get in the way of your reading. i even brought my own book, see?

…

no.. ?

…

…

…

very well. thank you for your time. goodbye.

…

…

… my favorite color is green.

quotes

I feel like quoting people today.

——
“Man’s inability to live God’s words makes the Avatar’s teaching a mockery. Instead of practicing the compassion he taught, man has waged wars in his name. Instead of living the humility, purity, and truth of his words, man has given way to hatred, greed, and violence. Because man has been deaf to the principles and precepts laid down by God in the past, in this present Avataric form, I observe silence.”

- Meher Baba (1894 - 1969)

Meher Baba, whose name means Compassionate Father, was an Indian mystic who publicly declared in 1954 that he was an Avatar, a reincarnation of God. He gathered many followers, from the West as well as the East, and has spent much of his life traveling, teaching, helping the poor, the sick and the insane. He wrote books on metaphysics and the life of the spirit, and for 44 years until his death, he never spoke a word. On his deathbed he gestured, “Do not forget that I am God.”

——
“There lies before us, if we choose, continual progress in happiness, knowledge, and wisdom. Shall we, instead, choose death, because we cannot forget our quarrels? We appeal as human beings to human beings: Remember your humanity, and forget the rest. If you can do so, the way lies open to a new Paradise; if you cannot, there lies before you the risk of universal death.”

- The Russell-Einstein Manifesto, July 9, 1955 (signed: Max Born, Percy W. Bridgman, Albert Einstein, Leopold Infeld, Frederic Joliot-Curie, Herman J. Muller, Linus Pauling, Cecil F. Powell, Joseph Rotblat, Bertrand Russell, Hideki Yukawa)

After the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Bertrand Russell and Joseph Rotblat (the only scientist to leave the Manhattan Project on moral grounds) collaborated with a number of scientists, most notably Albert Einstein, to warn the governments of the world of the threats of nuclear warfare. The result was this manifesto, released in London in a Press conference three months after Einstein’s death. Russell began the conference by stating:

“I am bringing the warning pronounced by the signatories to the notice of all the powerful Governments of the world in the earnest hope that they may agree to allow their citizens to survive.”

Ten of the eleven signatories are Nobel Laureates.

——

that, my friends, is what happens when you’re bored and non-work related sites are banned in the office. reading a few random wikipedia articles helps keep you awake.

Earthquake talk.

Someone told me that there was a prediction that a magnitude 8.1 earthquake would hit the Philippines this July 18th. I’m not one to believe in predictions, but with science severly lacking in earthquake warning technology, who’s to say it’s not possible? I once saw on TV that a psychic predicted the eruption of Mt. Saint Helens weeks before it exploded, before any of the equipment got a hint. Who’s to say some guy can’t dream up death and destruction and have it come true? If there’s anything we know about this world, it has to be that death and destruction are very, very possible.

Last Sunday, at 8:01 pm the building shook. According to the US Geological Survey (USGS) it was a magnitude 5.4 quake whose epicenter was 175 km East-Northeast of Manila, some 26.9 km deep. Forty five minutes later the aftershock hit, registering a 5.1. The next day, at 9:41 am, another one, a magnitude 5.1, caused the girls in the office to shriek. It wasn’t enough to make me bolt for the fire exit just yet, but I sure as hell remembered that damn prophecy, and the fact that the Philippines lies on the edge of tectonic plates. And it didn’t help that to the east (and incidentally, the East-Northeast) of Manila lies the Marikina Valley Fault System, with the West Marikina Valley Fault cutting through the Greater Manila Area. I started to think of escape routes, just in case. (pretty hard when you’re on the 37th floor, really)

If you don’t know what the Marikina Valley Fault is, I’ll save you the research:

The Marikina Fault is a right-lateral strike-slip fault (also called a dextral fault) that, according to the USGS, has “a recurrence interval of 200-400 years for magnitude 6-7 earthquakes”. (the last “faulting event” occurred approximately 200 years ago, by the way). A strike-slip fault is one where two touching land masses move laterally (to the side) in opposite directions so slowly that the tension (and resulting friction) keeps their edges in place until one day the edges slip, causing an earthquake. It doesn’t sound so scary actually, until you consider that the Digdig Fault which caused the 1990 Luzon earthquake and the San Andreas Fault which caused the 1906 San Fancisco earthquake were both strike-slip faults. Both earthquakes registered a magnitude 7.8, and caused 1,600 and 3,000 deaths respectively.

Although the USGS adds that “the chance of an earthquake larger than magnitude 7 on the faults of the Marikina Valley system seems small”, “small” is not “impossible”, and when it comes to my personal safety “small” chances of death are never small enough.

So what’ll I be doing this 18th? What I won’t be doing is hoarding canned goods and bottled water, locking myself in my apartment (like some “warnings” suggest). I’ll wake up maybe around 6:00 am, prepare for work, slice up some apples for breakfast, walk to the office, take the elevator to the 37th floor, maybe buy a donut and hot chocolate along the way, sit in my cubicle and wait. And I’ll wait, and I’ll wait, and I’ll wait some more. And then maybe eat breakfast or something. But if someone so much as nudges my seat or walks too heavily or sneezes too loudly, I swear on all that is chocolatey I will run for my freakin’ life. That’s my damn prediction.