Doors

I arrived home last night to find our door bolted. Usually, it’s just the doorknob that’s locked from the inside, which I don’t have a problem opening because I always have the house key with me on the lanyard of my company ID. But last night, two other locks that can only be opened by someone from inside our house were fastened in place. This is done if my cousin wanted to talk to me in person since when I reach home, they are already asleep. It could either be that he would ask for help, money issues, or if he had some news, good or otherwise, that he wanted to say to me. He opening the door last night, I was soon to find out what it was, and it was bad.

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A neighbor was shot, four times. When I say “neighbor,” I mean “neighbor” who lives just a few steps from our place. The shooting transpired around 8:00 pm when everybody was in their respective homes for dinner and to catch their favorite telenovelas. I was told that when it happened, he was sitting outside a neighbor’s sari-sari store, alone, all the more convenient for the culprits to carry out their evil deed. A shot to the neck, at the chest, and two at the back took his life and created a ruckus that soon instigated fear throughout the neighborhood.

I never really knew him, but I see him sitting at the bench outside the house that he was renting every morning when I go to work. He always had a smile on his face, something that he gave to people who were acquiantances, and every time I passed by his way, he wasn’t a bit selfish in sharing the sunny disposition he had. From what I gathered, he and his wife moved in about a month ago, going about their own business and living life as it came. Now what I see near the bench he always sat on is the mattress they owned and other personal things that I know the wife wouldn’t be returning back to get.

It’s hard to fathom why anyone would have it in their conscience to take the life of another person--what drives them, the motives they have, the courage to carry out the deed, their low regard for life. Whatever gives them the right to do that and play God, to decide till when a person is going to live is, perhaps, a question that would be an enigma to most. Our neighbor was just but one of the many people I know whose life was taken brutally away from them: My mayor grandfather died when the vehicle he was riding was strafed by unknown persons, a police uncle was shot on his way home to his wife and children, a cousin in the head on a vacant lot in Zamboanga, a friend stabbed and burned in his condo. Somehow, knowing what they went through, getting legal justice is a far cry in appeasing their souls.

I don’t know until when the gravity of the situation would be upped to placate the grief and growing uneasiness felt by most of us in the neighborhood. It takes some time with something like this tragic happening, especially to someone you know. Already, people in the nearest vicinity are closing and locking their doors when nightfall comes. But for our neighbor, even if his life was short lived, I know it’s a different thing altogether, for he is about to open Somebody else’s door, and he doesn't need a key or open locks to walk in through.

Slumdog Millionaire: A Review

I remember way back in the early 2000s that my mom, after one of her Malaysian business trips , brought home with her some Bollywood CDs. Believe me, Bollywood and Malaysia, even I could not see the connection. We plugged it in on our VCD player one afternoon, for lack of anything better to do, and subsequently got our first taste of what Indian movies are like--infectious conviviality, out-of-this-world choreography, exotic world music and endless dancing. It left an indelible mark on my budding partiality for foreign films and since then thought that ALL movies coming from India are made that way. But "Slumdog Millionaire" would prove otherwise.


Already in the running of being in the roster of nominees in next year’s Academy Awards, "Slumdog Millionaire" defies the perception I had of what Bollywood productions should be like, saved for the ending, but I’ll give it to them. After all director Danny Boyle has made a believable film, for the first hour at least, of what life is like in the slums of India and any country in the world for that matter. For the uninformed, "Slumdog Millionaire" is about one man’s search for a lost love that led him to a life journey ultimately making him rich when he bagged the pot prize in India’s version of "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire." Watching the story unravel, I was reminded of other foreign films like "City of God" and "Central Station"--particularly the parts with the little Jamal, Samil and Latika in it--as far as the overall tone of the scenes, the cinematography, editing, and the camera play. The cat-and-mouse chase into the squatter’s area brought another film to mind, "Kubrador," especially when the kids were on a heated pursuit atop the shanty rooftops. Understandably, it was visually stunning with "Slumdog" given that the former was an independent production.

As the characters aged, it became apparent that it was about to turn into a love story between the main protagonists Jamal and Latika, and the attention-drawing atmosphere that the film had for me in the first hour waned. To borrow a word from a colleague, it became "formulaic"--boy meets girl, boy and girl get separated, boy tries to find girl, boy and girl meets in the end, boy and girl lives happily ever after. The film took a dismaying turn from the cinematic buildup it initially got and I was waiting throughout the second hour, up until the ending, that it veers back from the detour it took, but that attention-drawing feeling never returned. I would have likened too that "Slumdog," it being "foreign," be made in India’s national language in its entirety. Somehow speaking in English--like during the interrogation, the kitchen scene with the then-teens Jamal and Samil, and others throughout--loses the authenticity of the movie being what it purported to be. But other than these personal observations, "Slumdog" is still a film worthy to be seen, with believable depictions of life amidst poverty aboard a cinematic train ride throughout cultural India that after two hours, one’s craving for this movie created by the buzz it got will finally be satiated. 4/5.

The problem with my Vista OS

My laptop is about two months old now. There’s no regret really that I got myself one even if most of the time it’s just left at a corner of my room, safely tucked on its sleeves, because I’m not home from like 11:00am to 11:00pm. After a day’s work, I turn on my computer to write, make my PT review notes, listen to songs from my beefed-up music library, or catch the latest videos of my favorite shows or my archive of A+ movies. I have not gotten an internet connection because I am still thinking it over. With DSL, I would not be able to maximize the usage because, as I said, I am not at home most of the time. With those plug-it watchamacallits, the connection still depends on the 3G signal of the area one is in. In addition, the fees can be a little expensive for a so-so service. I am not egging to be hooked to the cyberspace just yet (I am like surfing the web the whole day I am at the office anyway). So other than that, I never really had a problem with my laptop until the day I got home to find something glaring at me upon turning the power on.

What my current desktop looks like
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The desktop is pitch black, saved for one window that became my only means of access to the data on my laptop. I confess it is my fault not having registered my Vista Operating System online since I got it two months ago. There is an explanation really, other than being the sloth that I am. Not having my own internet connection is what I could pinpoint as the likely culprit. I thought of bringing my laptop, too, to establishments that are hotspots for wireless surfing just to do the online activation. The thing is, it comes with a hefty price, here in Manila that is, and there is also the fear of being robbed carrying the pricey thing around, especially now that it is the Holidays. The last time I was in Zamboanga, I enjoyed the free wifi that most establishments there offered. However, I was not able to activate the OS even though I would have been able to. I left the registration keys pasted on the CD that my computer purchase came with back home, in Taguig! Now the OS has expired.

My laptop has 160 GB of hard drive, and I have used quite a chunk of it on movies and my music library; the bulk is Vista’s considering it takes such huge space it being the operating system. I am planning of upgrading it to premium in the hope that I would be able to salvage the OS. A concern arises though. After a conversation with a techy colleague, he said that the data saved on the hard drive--meaning my movies and music files--might be lost if I opted to do so. That certainly got me thinking as I do not have a backup of all my files, especially the music collection I have in various formats. He suggested of burning it in DVDs (would take hours and many discs) or getting an external hard drive (expensive and I do not need one just yet as the HD that the laptop has is more than enough). I will get me a higher version of Vista as “might” is the operative term of my data being lost. If an upgrade would lead to such a scenario, I believe pray that I still can activate it online as a pop-up menu prompts every now and then on my monitor saying that I may be a victim of counterfeiting because my copy is not genuine and that I need to access the worldwide web to fix the problem. If worse comes to worst, I have no choice but to procure an external hard drive or (20 or so?) blank DVDs. It is an unnecessary expense I know, but I would rather spend for it than finding a pitch black screen glaring at me one day, minus the access window and everything I worked so hard of getting.

Two Days, Two Memorable Parties

I meant to write a longer post (two separate blogs in fact) of the two memorable events our team took part in and celebrated in two consecutive nights, TNC's first (and hopefully not last) Christmas party last Saturday, and Intensity, Aegis Peoplesupport's company-wide event just yesterday. But my usual sleepy self is failing me and the workload today is not permitting me. Everybody I know who took part in the revelry either has tired bodies or droopy eyes. Unfortunately for me, I had to kick myself to work while the rest had the day all to themselves. But nonetheless, it was great while it lasted, a needed break from the monotony of work and a great way of bringing the team into a more solid whole. Waa, I need sleep!

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Saturday is TNC Day
The Offline Team (With Rai from TNC Cust Care)
Offline Boys
Just because I have the mic
Karaoke before the smorgasbord
The TNC Family
Sunday's Red Day (Aegis-PS' Intensity Party)

With the Offline Gang
Teammates (past and present)
With two of my best office buds (Mackoie and Tim)

After the booze and smorgasbord
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Thanks VeeJei and Mackoie for the photos! Click link for more.

Better than the 13th month pay!

In Love with Lazy

I love you Lazy! Nah, this is not about the sloth that I am most days. I’m referring to THE band whose bossa covers of Floyd music totally blew me away.


More...Okay, I’m not ashamed to say that I listen to bossa music, the type that conjures birds tweet-tweeting in a lazy, laidback late afternoon, lounging on a couch outdoors, staring into the heavens, lost in the soothing sax, drumbeats, funky and soulful guitar pluckings, and the lustrous voices of the female artists that make the experience all the more pleasurable. If you’ve seen my ruggedly debonair self ambling the walkways of Makati and Taguig, you’d think I probably have loud rock music playing on my earphones (not to say that I don’t; in fact, I am to recommend Mudvayne’s new album in a future blog). But with ageing I guess (hehe), I started spanning my musical horizon to include such genres like chillout and bossa, music that sadly only a handful of people appreciate. So imagine the smile I had on my face when I got hold of an album where rock, bossa, and chillout were fused in a 12-track gem I so highly recommend.

Lazy, whose members are from the now defunct chillout band Supreme Beings of Leisure, wonderfully rendered classic hits from the iconic Pink Floyd into bossa and chillout covers in the irresistible album that is FLOYD: A Chillout Experience. I’d have to admit that I am not a big fan of these granddaddies of Brit rock (one of my brothers is, though); I am only familiar with some of their songs--Hey You, Wish You Were Here, Another Brick on the Wall, and Comfortably Numb. But hearing FLOYD, I was to become a convert, both of Pink Floyd and Lazy, the latter of course being the culprit for my recent bossa/chillout music overload.


Floyd: A Chillout Experience, like most covers/revivals, included in its roster the best of Pink Floyd music. Lazy made the songs their own in that they were able to infuse their musicality with Floyd’s and the result is nothing short of a chillout experience. How Jailyn sang the songs (notably in Comfortably Numb and Hey You), with the Latina-like accent and that whispery voice of hers, eargasmic. The lyric-less that is The Great Gig in the Sky, smashing. The funky Money, the soulful Mother, the atmospheric Another Brick in the Wall--everything in the album spells auricular pleasure. I never thought I’d chance upon a bossa album, one that could be on loop mode on my music player, since Bossa N’ Chicago.

I am so into everything Lazy now, both the proper noun and the adjective (hehe). This rather explains why one weekend I was not able to join friends for a cup of coffee after smorgasbording [sic] and finding myself a sloth in bed. I tried my best to be there, trust me, but... (lol). Blame Lazy!

You can listen to the album here. For more info, visit their MySpace profile.

So long, Ivan

It all started with a YM message...


The news of someone's passing is one thing somebody wouldn't ever want to hear, especially if you've come to know and been friends or acquaintance with them. This was once such news, and up to now, his passing is hard to believe.

Ivan, your friends and batchmates from TNC know that you are with our creator. You may have left the world at such a young age, in your prime, but we know you lived your life to the fullest. We from batch 8 would miss how you come to work with your outlandish clothes, a feat that you could only pull off, the carefree disposition that you always had, and the party person that we've come to know you. We are fortunate to have met somebody like you. Our prayers are with you.