\t Dysfunctional \tAfter \tFibonacci

now i think i really have it in me to learn a new language in midlife. french is too easy. perhaps parseltounge?

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i actually attempted to do the Fibonacci assignment using functions, as in create a fibonacci function called from main() plus another function to print...and got a splitting headache so i stopped, and played around with code instead and dreamed of the day when to write code all i need to do would be to write a grammatically correct english sentence punctuated properly, like so...

"while there's hope, there's life; that's if i submit all of my four FMAs on time. then, my life will be happy. got it? (this is my English version for getch())."

i'm sure there's something wrong in my c.life code below, starbucks treat to the first one who finds it (i can't)... but you'll have to answer me back in c, and allow me creative license.

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'#include"<"studio.lights">"

char hay (char heavy char sigh);
int life, hope, happy, fma;

main()
{
clrscr();
printf("how many fmas have you done? ");
scanf("%d \n", &fma);
while (life>0&&fma<4)
{
fma=1;
life=hope;
printf("yehey i'm done with %d, there is %d! /n", fma, life);
fma++;
}
life=happy;
printf("yehey i'm done with %d, i am %d! /n", fma, life);
getch()
}'

Obsessing

I was reading McVie's post on obsession and felt the need to post a comment, and the comment grew into five paragraphs so I decided it deserved to be posted here. McVie said:

"Obsession is quite a powerful force. One’s sights are telephotoed into a singular object. But obsession, which is desire magnified, makes one blind to the bigger picture. And it does not take into consideration the feelings of the subject. The subject is objectified into a prized image, valued not for who they are but for what they mean to the ones aiming their sights at them. Perhaps it is when the subject is viewed not through one-sided, rose-colored lenses can a fuller picture of him emerge. Seen from all angles, the subject is not merely an image but a whole person, an individual imperfect with his human foibles and frailty as well as his strengths."

Well said, but the only problem I have with this line of thought is that we never really obsess about the people we have a chance to see the whole picture of. Yes? Familiarity breeds contempt for smelly feet and loud mouths. Or maybe you're nega-obsessing (as in wanting to believe that this person is the baddest person there is and you won't stop until you 'get' him) therefore familiarity becomes a pail of cold water.

Which makes obsession a really really bad thing. And badder still because when you have it, you're almost always blind to it. The only thing that makes you snap out of it is to see the bigger picture, but you rarely see it when it's painted for you by others.

If other people paint a picture and you buy it? You're not obsessed, no worries. If you simply refuse to listen to good advice and believe in something when evidence points to the contrary, maybe you're just pig-headed?

But if you start hacking email addresses, creating false FB accounts using his creds, stalking the places he frequents, talking to his friends and acquaintances and dentist and doctor and teacher and classmates to get more information, and all that weird stuff... stop. We have too many stalker stories already. Boring na. Obsess about non-people, like chocolate cake and white pointed leather shoes that look five sizes bigger.

But if you insist, then go ahead. But get a good lawyer. Or get a good bodyguard. Or get both. Some people will be flattered by your attention. Some will simply have an irresistible urge to flatten your nose until it meets your hypothalamus. Or the soles of your feet, even. Or earthworms.

May You Have Many?

This made my day. SMS early in the morning...

"Hi Tito! Happy Father's Day! May you have many more fathers to come."

Maldito.

Seven A Month

I'm not gonna meet my quota of 7 blog posts a month because of schoolwork. I think. I'm busy pushing around shapes in Visio, creating topologies. Or hopelessly flopping with Fibonacci. And that's just for Assignment #1. Three subjects, times four assignments each, plus three midterms and three finals. But I'm having fun so I'm not complaining. Three assignments all due this weekend. Yeah... fun.

Three make-or-break projects at work. Gargantellic, gigantuous, monolithian projects that could turn company fortunes around, and maybe stop the lay-offs and give us back our yearly salary increments. And my team is smack in the middle of these three raging tornadoes.

If we all come out in one piece when Q4 comes around, I'm picking three bloggers to have dinner with on three separate occasions, the only condition being that they agree to eat unhealthy food like crispy pata and garlic rice in excessive quantities. My treat. I swear I will break my anonymity. This, of course, will be a big problem because I do not know anyone. Zero. I haven't had the time to connect. But I will, if I make it out of Q3 alive.

Just A Little Bit

Another one of those deceptively simple songs that pack a big wham. And don't we all want to be just a little bit? Ripped, thinner, bigger-dicked, taller, shorter... and it's not about things we have a good chance of being or getting.

Just a little bit stronger
Just a little bit wiser
Just a little less needy
And maybe I'd get there.

Just a little bit pretty
Just a little more aware
Just a little bit thinner
And maybe I'd get there...

Clearly, clearly I remember
Hiking up my skirt
Asking for your time

Clearly, clearly I remember
Nervous if ever confronted
And questioning myself

Perhaps, perhaps if I got better
Perhaps if I challenged myself
Perhaps if I was

Just a little bit stronger
Just a little bit wiser
Just a little less needy

Maybe I'd get there...

Clearly, clearly I remember
Pulling up my shirt
Staring blank ahead

Clearly, clearly I remember
Days of useless crying
Almost feeling dead

Perhaps, perhaps if I was smaller
Perhaps, I could control myself
Perhaps if I was

Not Gonna Write You a Blogsong

Thumping piano intros always hook me. And lately I've been hooked by this artist and her ilk. I'm not sure if this song ever became a hit or was even popular, and I've never been fashion forward but I certainly know which pieces to keep.

An Unbecoming Death

The past week, I’ve been receiving text messages from a friend, messages of despair.

He’s in love with a person (a classmate since elementary) who is also his best friend. They see each other every weekend, go shopping together, eat out together, have sex… but they’re not really… together. Know what I mean? This friend’s friend goes away on long vacations abroad and who does he leave to house-sit? My friend. They’re that close. Tito/Tita close. That’s what they call each other’s parents. So…

For two years now he’s been agonizing over whether to pop the question (tayo na ba?) or not because he’s afraid of upsetting the status quo. He won't because the status quo is good enough for him, but somehow he feels disenfranchised. There’s something lacking.

They go an having sex and seeing each other weekly and giggling over stuff like Kettle Chips and L’Oreal Men Expert but it’s not really “them” which was all fine until someone came along and turned the apple cart over. His BBF’s (best/boy friend’s) ka-opisina. This third party interloper who sees the BBF every day, while my friend can’t because he works several towns/cities away.

So now the ugly green monster is eating my friend up. Jealous, jealous, jealous as jealous can be.

Which is nothing new, is to be expected, and totally natural. What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. Except that he started talking about death. He can’t kill the negative emotions even if he wanted to, and is contemplating on killing himself to make the pain go away. Flashing red sirens!

I gave my standard reply, which I hope was enough. “If you kill yourself, you will be reincarnated as an insect.” To make sure he got the point, I added, “you will live and die as a lower life form for a hundred thousand lifetimes before you become an erection in your future father’s loins.”

Now I’m thinking. What movies and books should he be steered away from? What music? What is this world coming to? Why would perfectly healthy people with thriving careers ever contemplate death? Chos… I think he just wants to chat over dinner. But I still want to wring his neck.

Story of My Life?