Thursday, July 22, 2010

I Write Like

It's official. According to I Write Like's [inaccurate, obviously] program, a lot of my posts read like they've been written by Dan Brown. At times, I also apparently write like Vladimir Nabokov, Cory Doctorow, and HP Lovecraft, of none of whom I have actually heard, much less read enough for their writing to be influential.

I don't read a lot of books; I read a few books a lot of times.

I wouldn't mind having the commercial appeal of Dan Brown. But I would really like to write with the clarity of Lewis, the imagination of Gaiman, the depth of Chesterton, the humor of Rowling, the perceptiveness of Francis, the elegance of Tolkien. I would like to write.

Monday, July 19, 2010

on the edge of something

Do you ever feel like something could happen that could change everything? But that it may not happen? That you need to help make that something happen? But that one wrong move can stop it from happening forever? That serendipity may matter more than well-laid plans? That you are not really in control of your life, but that someone is? That tonight may be your last night on earth, or it may just be the beginning of an adventure so epic, it would take an epic to retell?

Call me silly, but something really could happen.

Friday, July 9, 2010

cariaso, loyalty, and a lesson in life

We happened to catch a few minutes of a Ginebra - Alaska game while waiting for my mother to finish her x-rays (long story), and when the camera focused on Jeffrey Cariaso, Aivan said in surprise, "Aw, ga-duwa pa diay na siya?!"

That instant, I felt old.

(Well, no, I never feel old old. Just that I seem to have been around for quite some time now.)

I felt old because I actually remember Jeffrey Cariaso as a rookie. Alaska won a Grand Slam that year, I think, or...it might have been the next year. Either way, I remember Cariaso being an integral part of the team, playing well, getting a lot of minutes.

And then I remember feeling indignant on Alaska's behalf when I learned that Cariaso had accepted the offer to play for Mobiline instead.

"Is there no loyalty in this world?" I remember wondering aloud.

My father heard me, and imparted a lesson that sticks with me to this day.

"Do you think," he asked, "that if Cariaso stopped playing well, or got injured, that Alaska would keep him, out of loyalty?"

I knew, even then, that the answer was no.

This is the real world. At work, there's no such thing as blind loyalty, or there shouldn't be, not on your part. Because, in the end, the bottom line is the bottom line. In the end, it is a business, not a charity. Of course, one should do one's best for one's company, or organization, or team. But you should never do so at the expense of your own well-being. You can kill yourself trying to save your company, but know that the company is not going to kill itself to save you.

So, yeah, loyalty is good, but we need cash.

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Funny how people who promise they will always be there for each other gradually fall apart.

Is a lifetime just too long?

Monday, July 5, 2010

fighting an eclipse

It is kind of a point of pride with me that I haven't watched Twilight, New Moon or Eclipse, don't plan to, haven't read any of the books, and don't plan to. I like the idea of standing unmoved by the trend, and being neither Team Jacob or Team Edward. Also, I am very protective of my time these days, and I'm scared of wasting it on what might be a Sweet Valley High - Vampire edition. (And apparently I just betrayed my age.)

Then again, being torn between a vampire and a werewolf is every little girl's dream, and it might be an interesting read. If someone can promise me that the books are well-written (and I don't mean Dan Brown-Mitch Albom-John Grisham-Paulo Coelho well-written, I mean GK Chesterton-JK Rowling-JRR Tolkien-Neil Gaiman-CS Lewis-John Le Carre well-written), I'm buying the entire set at once.

Sunday, July 4, 2010

the job. bow.

There are times I want to curse my job to death, and there are times that I feel an immense sense of gratitude for all that it enables me to do. I appreciate that, in a weird way, it is a blend of medicine and writing; I resent that it keeps me from writing about things that are important to me. The long hours, the draining tasks, keep me from figuring out what I really want to do. But I wonder: should I be glad that they at least keep me from realizing that I have no idea what I want to do?

The job. Bow.