Tuesday, April 30, 2002

It's so ridiculous that the moment I manage to log into Blogger, my thoughts disappear. Vanish. *Poof*. We're talking total blanko up there now. Okay, so that happens often, heh heh, but not NOW. Not after I've spent a whole half an hour just trying to log into Blogger and Yahoo. Yahoo's still on the blink ( start working already damnit ), and I'm not sure how long Blogger will stay up. Or if I can even post this after I'm done. Many posts - masterpieces, some of them! - have turned into nothing due to the server deciding not to communicate at the very last moment. There's nothing like seeing the incredible post you've been working on for the last 45 minutes or so disappearing, never to be recovered. Ditto emails. Things were so much easier back when it was just me and Eudora. But Yahoo is so convenient. Check ANYWHERE. See, not everything which is free is good. Sigh... the price of convenience.

Monday, April 29, 2002


Which Buffy Guy Are You? Find out @ She's Crafty

It's a sad day for us all. I've always suspected my true inner self, but this can't be right *puts head in hands and moans despondently*.

Sunday, April 28, 2002

Gamespot is going commercial. Things will no longer be free. Previews and reviews - the heart of the site and the only reason why I go there nowadays - will only be available for the first seven days, after which they'll only be available to paid subscribers. Is US20.00 a year - which translates to roughly RM80.00 - worth the price of game reviews and previews ( since my crappy 56K line is just too slow for all other Gamespot content like high-speed downloads and streaming video )? I think not. Gamespot does have some propaganda on why Gamespot Complete is good and how there will always be Gamespot Basic for people who don't want to pay for Gamespot Complete. I, of course, don't buy it. I now have to pay for what was once free. If Gamespot didn't start having stuff like streaming video and all, they won't need so much money to maintain their server. Not that they're introducing this package to help maintain everything. They're in it for the money. And there's money to be made. Just not from me, who'll just drift away to other gaming sites for my reviews/previews and gaming news, sites like The Adrenaline Vault, GameSpy and Games Domain.

Saturday, April 27, 2002

So today, I accompanied my girlfriend to the income tax office where we waited ( as expected ) for her turn to submit her form. There were a lot of friendly people there - the lady at counter 2 who readily assisted my girlfriend with her J Form and the funny folks serving us at counter 9. You would think that a job serving rude customers would drive them out of their minds. But nooo, they were actually enjoying tormenting us unfortunate people. Bastards. Laughing away and having a good time. Oh wait. Maybe they've cracked.

After that, we went to Prangin Mall, had lunch at Pizza Hut and then caught the 3.10pm screening of The Scorpion King. I like the movie. Even though the Episode 2 trailer kind of wiped away any thoughts of watching any other movie ( the Episode 1 trailer had the same effect on me and Chris when we watched Ever After ), the first part of the movie caught my attention. A bit like a medieval James Bond sans gadgets, for some reason. The action was over the top, the acting was... er, questionable ( but I wasn't there for the acting ) and the plot was no Lord of the Rings. It was like Conan the Assasin. And I don't care what the critics say, I still like the movie. I think it's a good fantasy action flick.

Kelly Hu has nothing to do with me liking the movie.

Friday, April 26, 2002

My girlfriend is doing her income tax and cleaning her room tonight, so here I am at home, reading up stuff on the Net and listening to the soundtrack of Episode 2: Attack of the Clones. My head is also quite heavy from the champagne I just had earlier - it didn't taste nice, so my sister forfeited her share to me in favour of some weird orange juice in the fridge. We also finished another packet of me dad's Freeky Fries, but he'll probably just buy more later. Freeky Fries, according to my father, is less oily and salty than most other snacks ( which makes it the primero uno snack for dieters the whole world round ). There's a pretty desolate piece of cheese cake sitting in the fridge. I don't know how long it's been there, but I'm leaving it alone. It looks neither safe nor unfattening.

We were supposed to have a meeting after work today, but the guys in charge conveniently got carried away with yet another meeting, leaving the rest of us plodding around the office all bleary-eyed and waiting to go home. I was feeling demotivated due to yet another one of those impossible tasks which I frequently get no matter where I am or how long I've been with the company ( Fate can be cruel sometimes ), so I just tapped my keyboard every now and then while reading up on miscellaneous totally work-unrelated stuff on the Internet. I find myself doing that a lot every now and then. Sadly, I never seem to read about anything remotely useful. I know of some people who go around reading motivational stuff ( unmotivated, poor folks ), while others just keep to the knowledge pages. And then again we have weird characters who give me URLs regarding three-year-old sandwiches and then telling me how much they want to eat those sandwiches. And that's all OKAY with me. I'm a very open fellow. Just stop throwing impossible tasks at me. I'm a programmer, damnit, not a miracle worker.
I'm getting fat again. I know, because the stomach is bloated and the extra chin has returned. It's disgusting. It's vile. I'm so fat I no longer feel hungry anymore ( which is disturbing, to say the least ). This calls for... a diet. It's going to be a long road.
It's 1 in the morning, and I still can't get over the fact that I'll have to work later in the day. Over on ICQ, frostflake cannot seem to stop pointing that fact out to me. That woman has no soul. To stop her from doing that, I engaged her in a discussion about Wilhelm von Darke, and how he is running with sheep these days.

Red Indian names:
Lt. John J. Dunbar - Dances With Wolves
Wilhelm von Darke - Runs With Sheep
Nicholas Prose - Sleeps At Work
Benjamin Southall - Wonders What ( Male ) Friends Do In Toilet

Thursday, April 25, 2002

Hail to the new King! Yes, inaugurations usually mean a public holiday for all, but what a good day for an inauguration! Thursday! Unlike that Prime Minister who forwards holidays to SATURDAYS to benefit 6 day-week workers ( which isn't a benefit at all, since Saturday is a half day anyway ). So to celebrate the royal inauguration of the new Agong, I had an espresso frappucino with an extra shot of espresso last night and went on to stay awake the whole night reading archived trolling on some newsgroups. Probably not what most of you will consider fun, but I never really agreed with most people on what fun is anyway. Anyway, that long night led to some weird caffeine-induced dreams which featured stuff in my life these days - RPG, work ( with that damnable team leader too ), an island off the coast of Penang with large crocodiles, bank accounts and finally home. I think everything is linked - I'm mostly unhappy with everything I dreamt of with the exception of home. Although the island with crocodiles was a little suspect.

Wednesday, April 24, 2002

In the old days when wars were fought with swords...
A sword brother is the guy who fights alongside you all the way. He watches your back, you watch his back. He's your partner in battle, and together you wreak havoc on the enemy in the battlefield. Female sword brothers are sword sisters.

These days when wars are fought in corporate boardrooms...
A bladder brother is the guy who follows you to the toilet to pee. He watches you when you pee, you watch him back. He's your partner in the toilet, and together you leave the office to wreak havoc in the toilet by peeing indiscriminately. Female bladder brothers are bladder sisters.

There is very little difference between sword brothers and bladder brothers. Both serve as support, and can become indispensable when they begin to learn your rhythms, and you learn theirs in return. Bonding moments such as the sword brothers' "Let's compare swords, brother!" and the bladder brothers' rather unmentionable equivalent will always help bring both brothers/sisters closer to each other.

Tuesday, April 23, 2002

My girlfriend is finally back from the States... and off to Ipoh today. As if I don't miss her enough :(. But at least she'll be back this weekend :)). The effects of last night is taking its toll on me though. Fetching her from her company, going for dinner and then doing the delivery boy thing by delivering tarot cards ( TAROT CARDS ARE THE DEVIL! ) to de Simoniac, then going home and finding out that the clothes were still in the machine and that my father went to wash the bedsheets. But it was a great night. I just wish I went to buy a cup of espresso at Starbucks instead of drinking two glasses of coffee at the coffeeshop ( which isn't effective at all ).

Monday, April 22, 2002

A thought ( dangerous things, those ) just occured to me. I suspect that some of my male colleagues might be... gay. Not happy gay, but homosexual gay. It's not like they've done anything towards me. Actually, they don't even speak to me. They seem to be something of the elite here. But the clothes they wear. The way they walk. The way they talk. It's... it's disturbing. Okay, I might be a little paranoid here. These are not effeminate men. There are rather manly men. But the way they look at each other and follow each other to the toilet...

Oh man, it's going to rain ( cue The Weather Girls singing 'It's Raining Men' ).
Air-conditioners on the blink! All the units in the office! It's uncomfortably warm at work now, making me increasingly drowsy. Can hardly keep myself awake, even when I'm reading up on scripting engines. Heard the secretary say that the compressors were offline or something. There's a fan here, but it's blowing at the senior engineers. Monday is already Low Productivity Day. You add in a warm office with no form of ventilation or wind, and you get Even Lower Productivity Day.

The only good thing to look forward today is my girlfriend coming back from the US *cheer* *cheer*. Can hardly wait for 5.30pm.

Sunday, April 21, 2002

The final cry of Mel Gibson as William Wallace is still echoing in my head. Maybe I shouldn't be playing the soundtrack on WinAMP now - it's rather melancholy. I said it the last time I watched Braveheart, and I'll say it again now - it's a spectacular movie. It makes you want to believe. Since the DVD version was not censored ( the first time I watched it was in the cinema - the torture part was cut out ), Wallace's last word is so much more meaningful and poignant. And now, I'm experiencing this real empty feeling inside me as the full meaning of 'Every man dies, not every man really lives' sinks into me. I think of all the people I know who are out to make an extra buck for themselves, people who think of nothing but to get ahead of everyone else and I realize that life no longer has much meaning for anyone of us.

Saturday, April 20, 2002

Waking up at 6.15am on a Saturday morning is not my idea of a good time. Not when I slept at 1.30am earlier due to having strange adventures in infinite space. But alas, a big brother must do what a big brother must do, which is to fetch the little sister to school for some event. At any rate, the reward for carrying out such a duty is a nice breakfast composed of two roti canais, a nice hefty piece of beef and a large glass of teh tarik. The only problem now is, I can't sleep with a full stomach. Not only will it make me unnecessarily fatter, it'll also give me a bad case of indigestion ( the beef was HEFTY ). I guess I'll stick around online to download that documentary and maybe head off for more strange adventures in infinite space later.

Friday, April 19, 2002

A large double espresso frappucino with whipped cream can last a long time. I blame it on the piece of beef which I had for lunch - it was too small, too hard and not all that much. That lead me to a trip to Starbucks at the ground floor of the tower where I made my order, and lived to see an afternoon through much caffeinated eyes. Now, after a trip to Prangin Mall to buy the Braveheart DVD and a trip to de Simoniac's house to burn a copy of Beetlejuice for Pei Ling, I feel tired but not at all sleepy. I thought it was Christmas at de Simoniac's house, but apparently his brother got married. While I was there, I also took Dungeon Siege for a testdrive. The look of the game reminds me of Darkstone, the only true clone of Diablo IMHO. The camera control reminds me of Black And White though. The sight of all those items lying on the ground reminds me of Diablo 2. And de Simoniac's computer toiled at a rate of 6 frames per second when we maxed out the options and went to engage every enemy in sight in one huge glorious melee. Yes, Dungeon Siege is a good game to cheat through.

Thursday, April 18, 2002

Earlier today, a rather disturbing thing happened. I was on the way back to my car after work, my head down as usual, walking outside the old dilapidated house ( smatterings of Lovecraft's The Shunned House ), when I suddenly remembered Pei Ling's mail to me earlier today about how she was going to get Gregory North to fetch her home today. Instinctly, I raised my head and right at that moment, there was Gregory North fetching Pei Ling to the jetty. Yes, it's nice to see your friends, but it's still creepy. Doesn't help that I was passing somewhere outside that old old house when it happened...
The Storm Of The Century tonight over Georgetown. I knew that things were going to be strange tonight the moment my sister told me I had to fetch her to tuition. And then I saw the clouds over the sea. And then the wind started. And then things started flying around. It was like a scene out of the Exorcist, with the wind howling outside and me struggling to shut the door. Had to throw my entire body weight against it just to get it to close. Probably one of those nocturnal storms which prompted Lovecraft to go:

The wind is howling like a demon outside. I can feel the building shivering under the onslaught of the storm, and I fear that my sanctuary will not be safe for long. Good God! Was that the thunder, or was it what I think it is? I should go now, out into the merciless rain, but dare I? Could worser fates await me out there? That lightning! No, I must write! I must write and perhaps it will all go away soon, the rain, that rumbling, everything. What was that? That... that rattling outside the window? It cannot be, no it must not! It's come for me, it's RIGHT OUTSIDE MY WINDOW AND THERE'S NO OTHER WAY OUT FOR ME OH GOD HELP IT'S INSID-

One must admire Lovecraft's protagonists. Though doomed to getting eaten / driven mad / disappear and never heard from again / killed / etc., they can still write while they're under a lot of pressure.

The site to visit on a dark and stormy night: The H.P. Lovecraft Library
Soundtrack to play at any time of the day, even dark and stormy nights: The English Patient ( aka Pesakit Inggeris )

Wednesday, April 17, 2002

It's been a long, long day. I knew it was going to be a long day when I woke up this morning. I just didn't expected it to be that long. Work work work is boring. Interestingly, it gets even worse when your deadline's the next day and you've just been informed of it this morning. Suddenly your screen starts drifting off to really non-work related sites. Sigh. THE AGONY!

Oh Lord, HBO is going to screen a movie called Crocodile. I'm so tired, I really hope I'm hallucinating about this one.

Tuesday, April 16, 2002

It's a happy happy night down at the Macallum Street area ( aka Part Of The Slums Of Georgetown ). They're having some stage show downstairs. Lots of lousy, loud singing. The kind that's apt to induce headaches. My view of this noise pollution is the same everywhere - line up the noisemakers and shoot them in the head. More sleep for everybody that way.
There has to be some farking thief in the office. Cause now the two pens which came with my stolen writing pad is gone too. And the CTO wondered why I don't put stuff on my table. I'll just wait for my calendar to disappear ( as if they dare! ), and then I'll start throwing their things out of the window when no one's looking. I mean, who the hell would steal writing pads, mousepads and pens?! It's not like it's expensive or anything. I bet my Stick-On notes will disappear soon too. Ditto the pencil on my table.

Monday, April 15, 2002

I gotta jump! I gotta jump! I gotta J-J-U-M-U-M-P!
I gotta jump! I gotta jump! I gotta J-J-U-M-U-M-P!

Good evening, folks! It's another wet day in the cloudy city of Geooooooorgetown! A lovely night for a stroll indeed, if you still have the strength after a sleepless night and one long Monday of work. Today, there's the end of CoolChique to ponder. A lot of kneeling and blowing at the last part but hey - she did it HER WAY okay. Which is more than I can say for most of you sorry sods out there.

Me, when the end came for me, I... okay, so there was a lot of laughing and crying in my old department. All so happy to see me leave, I swear the department was flooding. Now that the tears have subsided, I find it all so amusing. Had a few regrets in the old company, but then again, too few to mention, I guess. Sigh. Oh well. Anyway, one more time from the top, everybody! All together now:

We gotta jump! We gotta jump! We gotta J-J-U-M-U-M-P!
We gotta jump! We gotta jump! We gotta J-J-U-M-U-M-P!
Huzzah!
Mein gott. Someone stole my mousepad from my table! First the new writing pad which the office gives to every employee, and now my mousepad?? The indignity of it all! Nein... nein! This must not be! I shall seek vengeance against those thieves! The whole office will be treated to lots of bagpipes ( re: the soundtrack of Braveheart ) the whole morning!
2 farking AM and I can't sleep. I know this feeling. It's that sinking feeling in your stomach when you realize that you're going to be asleep at work tomorrow. Too tired to sleep now, even though my mouth is doing Jaws exercises every minute or so. And I went to look for the last remnants of my Kava-Kava ( to hell with the FDA ), but the bottle seems to elude me. Now I'm surfing the Net, hoping that the monitor will lull me to sleep. Don't get me wrong. I am sleepy. I need to sleep. Cause I have a lot of *yuck* research to do tomorrow, and that's something best done with a well-rested mind, which is what I won't have tomorrow.

Anyway, sigh, the weekend was too short. I blame the mismanaged management meeting. That swallowed up Saturday. For a guy who ( currently ) despises the people he's working with and the place he's working in, weekends are essential periods of time to be away - oh so far away - from the office. Oh well. Some of the folks there are not all that bad. Just that the top guys probably think they're John Carmack or something - now that would explain their snobbish attitude.

Sunday, April 14, 2002

A fun-filled day. Some housekeeping was done, which strangely didn't turn me into a sneezing invalid ( read: hay fever ). After which I went to get my comics ( Sci Spy #3 and High Roads #1 ), and then it was off to 1-Stop with my little sister and my father to top up my Jaring account and to have dinner. I managed to get a JET coupon for my Jaring account, but the damn website is down now. Shameful.

Saturday, April 13, 2002

At 10.30am, it was announced that the meeting would be postponed to 2pm. Although I'm pretty happy that we finally have a timeframe ( 2 hours of boring shit I hope they talk until they go dumb ), I'm still pissed as hell that my Saturday morning just went to hell. Management meeting indeed.
Oh FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST IT'S ALREADY 9.50AM! You would think that the management meeting would start on time. Damnit if I knew that time management was going to go to hell here I would have waited at the passport office until my sister could collect her passport. I think that they just wanted us in early so that we could do extra work. Cheapass bastards. Now I'm starving, I'll probably have to wake up early the next working Saturday to bring my sister to the passport again and to top it all, I'm pissed off as hell.

In my agitated state, a haiku comes to mind. Mr. Jeyam once said that "emotions inspire the music of the heart." Well, if love inspires a ballad, my heart's playing Iron Maiden now. But I'll just leave out the gory massacre parts and try to FOCUS. F O C U S.

The red boy standing,
In the snowy white field,
Chewing on his tongue.


One day, I'm going to make all those bastards here chew on their own tongues, smile at me with loving gratitude in their eyes and ask for their own livers next, please, sir, we like the taste of our own bodyparts, thank you.

Friday, April 12, 2002

Hot Friday night. Went out with de Simoniac and de Doctor Maximillian Arturo. Now I'm at home, still sore over the fact that the ass CTO of my new company called for a management meeting at 9am tomorrow morning. They're definitely not paying me enough for this kind of shit.

Thursday, April 11, 2002

Into every generation a Slayer is born.

This May, ladies and gentlemen, BUFFY SEASON FIVE! *scream*
It's a lovely Thursday morning. The sun is shining, the birds are singing ( or that could have just been my brain twittering ) and the only thing on my mind is - I really need to pee. Now, peeing in my new company is an art form. Everytime you make a break for the toilet, everyone will see you going out. If you go empty your bladder too often, the manager will get suspicious, and you'll end up having a one-to-one talk about bladder discipline and why you shouldn't singlehandedly empty the office's water supply everyday ( we use large gigantic plastic bottles ).

That is just half the of the story. The other half is when you actually go urinate all over the toilet, and then press that button to flush the place out. Since my office is right next door, everyone hears that. The thin and extremely sound-friendly wall wouldn't be that bad if my shitting techniques didn't involve a lot of unnecessarily loud farting sounds which somehow communicates over to my colleagues...

Wednesday, April 10, 2002

A 24-year-old person has no business wondering if he's matured. Yet, as I pondered over the lyrics of Pink's 'Don't Let Me Get Me', I realized that I never really went through the teenage rebellion stage of life. Too many restrictions at that time - the disciplinary board and so on. Now though, I feel outright rebellion at possibly all the wrong issues. I conform to society's rules, but not the social graces of life. I think nightlifers are people who really have nothing else better to do with their lives. I think we should tear down nightspots and build community centers to develop skills instead. I think that kids today have it easy, because back in my day... Oh wait. I'm not going through teenage rebellion. I'm waaaaay past that. I'm thinking like somebody's grandfather now. Oh God I need professional help.

Tuesday, April 09, 2002

This afternoon I sat down and I tried to write a short portion of a story. Any short portion. Any story. It was hard. It was difficult. It was impossible. I got pretty mad at myself. Once I could fill up a 100 page book with my own handwriting, spinning really B-grade tales about schools getting invaded by aliens and demons invading the Earth on Halloween. Now I couldn't even write a simple snippet of a story. A snippet! I wasn't going for a Pulitzer, I just wanted a few paragraphs of structured crap ( as opposed to this, which is unstructured ). But. I. Failed. So I went away from my PC mad, swearing vengeance.

When I got home this evening, I tried again. Amazingly, it worked. Kind of.

<begin snippet>
    "Damnit, Wilhelm! He's going to jump out of the window!" I screamed.
    "Yes," came that indecently calm reply. "But a man must be left to face his own demons alone."
    "Even when those demons might drive him off the hundredth floor of a building?"
    "Yes, Nikolai. I see you get the point."
    I was getting worried. I always knew that the German had ice in his veins, but not to this extent. Father Ben, his face in agony as his spirit resisted the possession, already had both legs swinging precariously on the other side of the window sill. Only his hands, digging deep into the wall, were holding him back.
    "Ni... ko... lai... I... can... not..." he grimaced as whatever spirit invading his body forced his body forward. The priest's fingers dug impossibly deeper into the plaster of the wall. Conscious of Father Ben's every action, Wilhelm kept the gun on me.
    "Do not," he said emotionlessly.
    "You just hold on, Father Ben. You just hold on right there," I called out reassuringly as I tried to figure out a way to get to him.
    And then I noticed that Wilhelm's body was enveloped in a black glow, something which was almost invisible in the shadows of the dark room we were in. I searched his eyes, and noted that they were no longer blue, but red behind the spectacles. Father Ben wasn't the only one who had opened that blasted book last night.
</end snippet>

Now if I can just maintain this train of thought, I'll be able to write better structured crap next time. Possibly even one with a beginning and an ending.

Monday, April 08, 2002

It's another one of those Mondays. Freshly out of sleep after last night's MP3 downloading binge, I dragged my carcass into my office in the morning looking like something which just crawled out of a week-old grave and plopped myself in front of my desk. And realized that for the first time ever in my working life, how awfully alone I was. Very alone. Solitude, always a constant friend of mine until lately, came creeping back like a thief in the night. This time, there are no Pei Lings, no Lilians, NO ONE BUT... but me. So maybe the company's too small to host a better range of personalities which I can get along with.

Oh well. Not talking for 8 and a half hours every day can't kill. There's always ICQ, Yahoo Messenger and a whole lot of MP3 downloads to look forward to. Somehow, though, I think that I would choose ridiculous Internet proxies and people to fool around with over zero proxy and myself. Not that I'm bored. Just that I'm becoming more human. Which isn't a good thing. Not now. Not here.

Sunday, April 07, 2002

My sister has a debate tomorrow. She has to defend the cause of foreign labourers in our country. Ironically, she doesn't like foreign labourers. In fact, I believe she absolutely detests them. Given that they've recently had problems with some Indonesian labourers, her fight tomorrow will probably be uphill all the way. So I sat down and tried to get her to believe in what she was going to say to her audience tomorrow.

Me: You've got to believe. You want to believe.
Sister: But why?
Me: So that you can make them believe tomorrow.
Sister: But why do I want them to believe in something I don't believe in?
Me: That's not the point. The point is, you need to believe to win. Cause when you believe, people will believe.
Sister: I don't want to believe. I still think all foreign labourers should be shot.
Me: That's it. If you still insist on not believing after the hour I had to sit here and coach you, I'm going outside.

( outside... )

Dad: Hey, there's this guy eating ladies' fingers on the X-Files tonight.

And so here I am, on the Internet. Downloading MP3s, working on my MUD, and staying away from foreign labourers and people who eat ladies' fingers.

Saturday, April 06, 2002

Name of Blog: Bedazzle
Reviewed by: Nicholas Prose
Author(s): Hikari Chan, Hime Chan, Misao Ran


Page design:
The blog is divided into two sections - the left section contains the posts, and the right one holds short bios of the three young authors and some links. There's a very cutesy feel to the blog, a sentiment enhanced by the soft tones employed, the multiple variations of red and the various anime images around. The text colour used for the posts does not seem to stand out too much against the background, but it's still readable. There isn't any commenting system available, and there doesn't seem to be any archives around either. From her posts, it seems that Misao is the one maintaining the blog's design.

Personally, I like the look of the blog. With the bios of the authors ( including IMoods ) on the sidebar just above the links, readers are provided a brief insight of the authors' preferences. The anime motif is very well-presented throughout the whole page, from the title graphic itself to using anime characters to represent each author and other incidental graphics.


Content:
Here, we have three different authors writing away. By reading their collective posts, I feel like I'm privy to some private world of theirs. It's a blog of three young girls talking about their lives, and essentially talking to each other through the blog too. Their posts generally take a conversational manner as they literally tell each other what's going on in their lives ( even though I believe that they do meet in real life ).

Hikari, for one, tells us briefly how she enjoyed the dance she attended with her parents, even though she's aware that most people her age wouldn't be caught dead at a dance with their parents. Hime reveals that she's been having nightmares lately. Misao points out that she can't seem to talk to people whom she knows, but she's rather chatty with strangers.

Boy issues crop up quite frequently in the blog, particularly with Hikari and Hime. There is a certain innocence in the posts these girls make - just normal teenage girls with their attendant issues.


Final thoughts:
For some reason, this blog takes 9 years off my 24 years of age. The simplicity of the issues in the posts is refreshing and the cheery design is simple enough to navigate.

Note:
At the time of this review, the last post was on 1st March 2002 and failing to find any archives to dip into, I only had a total of eight posts to base my content review on. Misao has apparently been working on a new website, so perhaps this blog has been discontinued. Which is a shame, really. I rather enjoyed the posts, and would have happily followed it on a daily basis.



This blog review was done as part of the Peer-to-Peer Review Project.

Friday, April 05, 2002

I'm not sure if I'm to be blamed, but the HR / secretary of my new company is leaving at the end of this month. Not of her own accord, apparently. I think she got fired or something, but I'm not too sure ( pre-arrival office politics ). This happened back in eBX too. I came, and Stella the HR girl left. Although I don't think Stella got fired - she probably got a better offer somewhere. But the point is, I came, HR fellow left. I must be some sort of herald of change or something. I wonder if the same thing happened in Motorola last time. It's one hell of an omen if it did.

My good friend Babgafa is currently in Korat, Thailand. He'll be back next month, and he promised that he'll bring me a souvenir. I should have told him that I wanted something small and presentable for my office desk. I guess that the 'as long as it's not cursed or something, you dumb Turk' condition is good enough. I don't want to be suddenly attracted to amazingly ugly Thai women ( or men, even ) on account of a little trinket.

The CTO of my new company came by today. Like all manager-level folks ( with the exception of Alice from eBX, who's absurdly nice for a manager ), he inspires tension. A guy who comes into the office shouting my name is liable to get himself thrown out of the window. Unless he's the CTO of the company, of course. In which case I try to be a little bit diplomatic, smile and answer all his questions. Questions like "How's life?" and "Why is your desk so empty? It looks like your first day here." Seeing the cluttered state of the other cubicles in the office, I think I can make an educated guess and safely state that they don't believe in a clean table policy. Yes, I know that eBX implemented that policy just before I left, but I've always practised a clean table policy. If the office burns down, I want to lose as few personal belongings as possible.

Thursday, April 04, 2002

Thursday night. Sigh. I used to love Thursday night. Thursday night was MONSTER THURSDAY. We would start off with Buffy, go on to Angel and finally cap it off with Millenium. It was a good way to spend Thursday night. No, it was one of the BEST ways to spend Thursday night. The perfect set of series, screened in the perfect order, on the perfect night. And sometimes, we even have de Simoniac and Durnik Maxwell over, lounging all over the hall commenting on Buffy's nose and what a slut she has become in Season 4.

Nowadays, we have Roswell and Angel. Both seasons have finished their finales, and we're having reruns now. I don't mind. I love those two series. But those grand MONSTER THURSDAY nights of old are sorely missed. *Sniff*.

Wednesday, April 03, 2002

I coughed out blood just now. It was an interesting experience, puzzling if those reddish brown spots of saliva on my hand were chocolate or blood after I sneezed real hard. The question 'Am I dying?' ran through my head once. At least 'Am I dead yet?' didn't go through my head repetitively. So as I chew on a piece of blood ( or is it a piece of my throat? *shrugs* ), I ponder my case: WHY am I coughing out blood? The answer lies in the throat - my last sneeze must have cut through the flesh there. Oh well. Perhaps it was a good thing that Gregory North declined supper tonight. I can't imagine nasi kandar with this throat. Some other time, perhaps.
So I've been informed that the eight people in my department have been handed their one month's notice by the company. Because they were unconfirmed, they do not get any compensation. Yes, retrenchment was expected ( in fact, that's why I left in the first place ). But just because you know it's going to happen doesn't make it any less depressing. Of the eight who were terminated, four of them had become my good friends in the company, people I looked forward met everyday. I've left eBX. I've a new job now. But for the grace of God, I could have very well been one of those who were handed their termination letter today.

There are no sighs of relief at this close call. I've no mood for it, and it's just not right anyway, damnit.
Item! Retrenchment strikes at the heart of eBX ( my ex-employee )! I find it utterly depressing that so far, the 4 people who got retrenched in my ex-department are people I know. Supposedly another 4 more. We just don't know who yet.

Item! Through the grace of God, Gregory North obtained another copy of my EA form from my ex-company. Oh THANK YOU GOD, I can sleep tonight.

Tuesday, April 02, 2002

On a very sad note, CoolChique's grandfather took the Swan's Path early today morning. My deepest sympathies, CoolChique.
I was feeling down today after realizing the disappearance of my income tax statement, and the fact that I will probably be eating cold char bee hoon for lunch everyday until I leave this company. A low, miserable feeling, the kind that makes you want to drown your sorrows in water ( it's cheaper that way, trust me ). And then I continued reading David Gemmell's Ravenheart. Bought the book yesterday and read it halfway before I had to go sleep. True to form, Mr. Gemmell delivered a stupendous story complete with tragic romance, heroism, lessons of life, memorable characters and heart-pounding moments ( and my heart pounded as I approached the end ).

Now, after finishing the book, I'm feel physically weary. But inside, the weight on my soul is lifted. There's no problem I can't surmount ( yeah, I knew that earlier, but the issues were kinda weighing me down ). Fact: No other writer - not even Stephen King - can make me finish a book in the shortest time possible. I'm still stuck in chapter 4 of Elaine Cunningham's Tangled Webs which I started a few weeks ago, Salvatore's Drizzt series is just a tad draggy for me and let's not even talk about Ed Greenwood's Death of the Dragon, which I literally forced myself to finish. Ravenheart was finished in the shortest time possible - and Gemmell still rules.

On another note, I got a call from Scotland Yard today with alarming news - the girl who used to wink at me in class - everybody's favourite AH MONG! - is going to get married. Tonight I will sleep with a smile for her, for she was a good person to sit in front of back in class. And somewhere in this world, a man who once walked through the fires of hell for that girl will probably get drunk - VIOLENTLY SO - if he still has enough money for yet another bottle of whisky. Life can be so cruel sometimes - just when you need a stiff drink the most, you don't have the moolah for it. Failing to garner enough money, he might just go jog himself to death. I hear it's good exercise.

Final news of the day: I was finally given my own PC at work. Given that there's no proxy... hubba hubba hubba.

Monday, April 01, 2002

Welcome to iBridge Capital.

"And to one of the most depressing days of your life. You will feel totally out of place. You will feel miserable. In the past, you thought that you have felt the kiss of loneliness, but now, you will *know* solitude. You will find friends, no matter how hard you try not to. And then, by your own hand, you will remove your friends from your life. And now, know the meaning of being lonely."

Sigh. Here's the lowdown on eBX and iBridge.

eBX:
Cheap food. Easier parking lots. Nice chair. Gregory North. Pei Ling. CoolChique ( email and the occasional free food ). Chow Ghee and the rest of PSG.

iBridge:
MPH is just downstairs. Flexi hours. Cool table. 17-inch monitor. No Eddie. CoolChique ( email ). Smaller team, Phoay Phoay and a guy called Ah Beng.

The more things change, the more they remain the same:
Everyone hates the manager. The manager runs for her phone when it starts ringing. eBX - Mandarin, iBridge - Hokkien.

U2 is telling me to walk on. I guess that adapters being my first reading assignment at work today wasn't a coincidence. I need to adapt. But I guess griping and mourning and basically just being miserable for the moment isn't too bad.