Sub-reality in Numbers

(Written on May 19, 2005. Re-published in June 2022.)

The unbelievable has happened.

This morning, I awoke to the newfound reality that not only do I dream in color, but I now dream in numbers, too.

Coming from a math-averse person like me, this is news.

To give you a picture of how it went: On days when I am seriously sleep-deprived, I try to get up as late as I can to maximize the REM experience. This morning, I knew Chukie, my half-Thai roommate, was already up and taking a shower. My phone alarm was going off again and again like crazy on a 5-minute interval, but in the nano-seconds that I would emerge from light sleep to hit the snooze button, I would check if Chuks was already done. Only then will I haul my carcass off the bed and start off my day with a shower.

So anyway, during those precious seconds before my dreams got disrupted by the screeching alarm, I was dreaming that I was looking at the forecast for an IT market that I am currently doing. But it was more like I was looking at these spreadsheets to forecast the exact moment that I will have to get up and about. Weird, huh?

Now stuff like this usually cracks me up. I mean, who would have thought? I love the bizarreness of things; the mystery makes life a little bit more interesting.

But dreams of forecasts--yikes. Not a very enticing way to start the day, hey? ;) You see, these are rows upon rows of cold, colorless numbers (yes, in my world, numbers can have color) that are enough to drive anyone batty if they aren't careful enough (I know I have bouts of dingbatness come submission time, as my colleagues can attest to with excessive ardor).

I might be a number cruncher, but I have very little love for numbers (forecasts being the bane of my existence). I loved my CommRes 120 (Quantitative Analysis in Research) days in UP, though. Probably because I wasn't bad in it. In fact, it was one of the few things I enjoyed in MassComm, despite a wobbly start.

Anyway, so much for that. This whole forecast business, I think it's my subconscious saying to me, "Get cracking, you ditz!" Yes, the dreaded final forecast is due this Friday, and I have yet to start on it.

Unbelievable. The realization starts to hit home: Work has finally penetrated my subconscious. And I shudder to think of the possibilities it brings. Like, what if I wake up, panting and gasping for dear life as I lay deluged by a nightmarish vision of numbers in my sleep. Then there's also the dismal possibility of being visited by my boss in my dreams. Brrr. I'd rather take on Freddy Kruger anyday.

The Unraveling

I dunno how stringent the restriction on listening to music during the fasting season is, but I can't work like this. I'm dehydrated, I haven't had a cappuccino or soy latte in weeks, and I'm up to my eyeballs in this thing that I'm doing (recon work for a big-arse oil-and-gas client). Now I ain't complaining. Life is goodah. But looking at the data, I get the overwhelming urge to holler, "Crud! I gotta get an MBA already!"

But I can't cuss. Big no-no. Hence, I need to bring in the usual suspects to keep me afloat today.

A sample of my Nike+ playlist:

1) Prodigy - Firestarter (the first to play everytime!)
2) OK Go - Here It Goes Again
3) Justice - D.A.N.C.E. (MSTRKRFT Remix)
4) Chemical Brothers - Block Rockin' Beats
5) Britney and Madonna - Me Against The Music (Justice Remix)
6) Paul Oakenfold - Ready, Set, Go!
7) My Chemical Romance - Welcome To The Black Parade
8) Kaskade - Be Still
9) Smashing Pumpkins - Doomsday Clock
10) The Killers - Bling

So it goes. Music is my downfall.

Noontime Sideshow

It's really quite funny. I just realized this morning that the event they were sending me and the new guy to was this:


It was a foregone conclusion that I was to attend the gig. They asked newboy, but they didn't ask me. "I can't make it, please attend in my place. You'll be going with fafarrahzzi," the boss-man said in an email in which I was cc'ed. Hmmm....

Well. Que varbaridad is all I can say.
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And also, that we went and we dined and we were treated to a short serenade by no less than Christian Bautista (a schoolmate of ours, I informed him). Does this mean I have to go see his musical that's opening next week? Hmmm. Love you, CB, but no can do.

Takeaway of the Day:

Sometimes I just can't believe how baduy I can get. Yeccchhh... Not to mention, as in this case, the teensiest bit, um, deluded...? And hence, in the grand scheme of things, irrelevant.

Hay, life.

Welcome To The Black Parade (or We'll Carry On)

Guzzling coffee and drowning in pumpkin soup and The Prodigy.
There's no other way, no other way. Not on this Manic Monday.

Press play.

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Ditzkrieg

OMG! I saw him again. And I wasn't ready, damn him!

Shit naman o. Eight-plus hours in a working day and he had to see me at a wa-poise moment. Why oh why did we have to bump into each other at a time I'm ngarag and all frazzled from OT work? When the elevator doors opened and we had an Inday Badiday moment (read: eye-to-eye), I didn't know what hit me. I just knew I wasn't pulling the smooth operator act. I was slouching, dammit! I couldn't friggin' stand straight. I had to lean on the side of the elevator and couldn't look anywhere except either down at the ground or up at the LCD display showing the floors we were passing as the lift descended to the building lobby. When it came to a stop, I couldn't get out of the thing fast enough. Good Lord, I almost knocked over an elderly executive type who was halfway through the door in front of me! (Totally sorry, mister! In the unlikely event that you read this anyway.)

And never have I felt like I wanted to sink to the floor while crossing the lobby to get to the nearest convenience store. He was with a couple of female co-workers, one of whom even sorta smirked at one point--to herself, WTF! was she smirking at me??--during a lull in their conversation in the elevator. Yes, I caught that in the reflection on the shiny walls of the lift, all right. But he was NR (no reaction), and had the weary look of a regular OT junkie.

Lordy, have you ever felt like all eyes were on you, and not in a good way? His eyes especially, I swear to God. How could he not, what with that weird enough walk that I've always had, which I'm sure must have looked even more awkward when I was trying to make my getaway (and on 3.5-inch heels, no less). Ditzville moment but I felt my heart beating out of my chest like in the B movies. You know when something stupid happens and you go, "This is so not happening!?@!?" and you swear to God you feel like you could faint right then and there but the tragedy is that you don't? That's how it was.

Dang but I absolutely hate him, hate him! My goodness, I've never felt this stupid before. Not even when Yummy 1 caught me and my cousin openly gawking at him with a look of dopey (I'm sure) wonderment plastered on our faces at Glorietta 4. This was ten times worse. Doggone it, I wanted the earth to just gobble me up whole, face first. I felt I couldn't walk at all! How utterly, utterly stupid is that? (Plus, now I'm reduced to going on and on about it spouting "stupid" as the only way to describe the whole ordeal.)

This is weird. Honestly, this has never happened to me. I swear to God. Never. But I'm not jumping to conclusions. This is unacceptable. I never saw this coming.

Someone please do me a mean roundhouse, right on the noggin, like right now!

Ilusyonada and Ilusyonado on Break Mode

or "How to Entertain Yourself While Working"

This is how Jub and I communicate (don't be dismayed--it's only for 90% of the time).

//chatting commenced at 14:28//

[14:31] makiwasabi: tuloy kau mamaya?
[14:32] jubert4: not too sure pa kung saan ang dinner and chillin out.
[14:32] jubert4: but we're going to have a massage before dinner.
[14:33] jubert4: sasama ka ba?
[14:33] makiwasabi: di ko sure
[14:33] makiwasabi: depende
[14:34] makiwasabi: ano ba budget nyo for chilling out
[14:34] jubert4: like malaki ang budget... you know naman us.
[14:35] jubert4: depende kung sino ba ang kasama? tsaka ka lang sasama?
[14:35] jubert4: !!!
[14:37] makiwasabi: hindi naman
[14:37] makiwasabi: i mean, pag magkakaraoke kau, di nako go-go
[14:37] makiwasabi: u know na, hafta make timpi kasi the kids in china are like hingalo na and everything
[14:38] jubert4: the kids in china are hingalo?
[14:38] jubert4: just when did u make china's kids a priority?
[14:38] makiwasabi: duh, I’m like secretly concerned about the fate of the chinese kaya
[14:38] jubert4: are u like brad & angelina na?
[14:38] makiwasabi: heller, they’re like my bestfriends kaya
[14:39] jubert4: yeah i know!
[14:39] jubert4: eniwey, are u joining us for dinner nga?
[14:39] makiwasabi: not for dinner
[14:39] makiwasabi: kasi i have to do OT
[14:39] jubert4: for coffee? after dinner...
[14:39] makiwasabi: siguro. where ba?
[14:40] jubert4: wala pang final plans.
[14:40] makiwasabi: kasi i need to let the manong driver know now pa lang where to drop me off eh
[14:41] jubert4: you have manong driver? are you that poor na? what happened na to your private jet?
[14:42] jubert4: don't tell me you made benta the jet that i gave you...
[14:45] makiwasabi: eh kasi wawa naman the poor manong pilot, it’s like pago-OT-hin ko rin sya? he’s from china, u know
[14:45] jubert4: you have naman the capacity to pay OT.. why not?
[14:47] makiwasabi: kasi i decided to make bait and just give manong driver OT work instead of the manong pilot
[14:49] jubert4: oh i see. didn't know that you're that kind. but eniwey, we'll let u know later
[14:50] jubert4: then, you make sunod na lang.
[14:56] makiwasabi: okash


*******

Meanwhile in the background:

I'm currently feeling the vibe of Up Dharma Down. Uber fresh and full of spunk. These guys are spankin'!

OT Blues

~~currently vibing Rod Stewart's The Great American Songbook volume II~~

Listening to Cher's voice in "Bewitched, Bothered, Bewildered" (in duet with Rod Stewart) reminds me of that period film she did with Dame Judi Dench, Tea with Mussolini. Man, I'm so turning Euro. At least, I wish. I so wanna traipse along the Italian countryside and soak up all that Mediterranean goodness. I wanna eat fiorgelato all day in the village piazza with girlfriends while making long-distance goo-goo eyes with some shy dark-haired paisano from school. Oh, well. The closest I can get to all that is the chicken mushroom pasta I had tonight. Duh. It didn't even taste distinctly Italian. But hey, I'll take whatever cheap thrill I can get. Oh, and Rod "the Mod" Stewart, too. Even though he ain't no paisano.

What to do on a rainy Friday night

Why, answer online quizzes, what else? Got this interesting quiz from a friend's blog. Looks dark and menacing. Dank, even. Perfect for a drizzly night like tonight.

Goddamn rain. Actually, I'm just waiting for Jubert to be done with his deliverable. Then we're off to the midnight sale at Glorietta.

Actually, I can leave anytime I please. Goddamn office. I'm obsessed. All corporate zombies are.


Your word is: Brooding. You are a true thinker and
often try to figure out the meaning of life,
why we are all here etc. You may not be so
social, and often think twice before acting but
those thoughts you have in your mind never stop
flowing in. Sometimes you can be so
concentrated you forget about other things that
you have to do. Don't change, this world needs
deep people.


What dark word represents you? (anime pics and 7 outcomes)
brought to you by Quizilla



You need adventures.
Real life has been very boring for you lately and
you can't help but dream away. Nothing is exciting
or fascinating in your life and can't
understand why it all is so dull. You like
having fun, but are probably not a bouncing
person because of that. There is a probability
that you either like to read/watch fantasy or
similar genres, or have a creative side that
lets you release your fantasy world.


What Do You Need in Your Life? [dark pics]
brought to you by Quizilla

Your love is... by ChibiMarronchan
Your name is...
Your kiss is...	breath taking
Your hugs are...	friendly
Your eyes...	sparkle like the stars
Your touch is...	the only thing I desire
Your smell is...	beautiful
Your smile is...	hypnotising
Your love is...	eternal
Quiz created with MemeGen!

Firestarter

Picking up where I left off, let me clarify that I consider myself no teacher of life. My delusions are limited to presumptuous musings about the mundane. And life, in the grand scheme of things, is anything but.

In fact, I think my experiences to date would more aptly serve as one big lesson to be learned. In CliffNotes, for easier digestion.

Yesterday was interesting. I think I almost burned down the office. By accident, of course. But it wasn't my lucky day (hehe). I almost choked on yellowish opaque smoke that the microwave belched. We had to open the windows to let the sinister smell out. I had to herd my office mates in the conference room to avoid having any one of them pass out in the event that the smoke proved to be too much. Thank goodness, the biggest casualty in this episode was the microwave. Even after Ate Lyn, the office help, scrubbed its insides clean, the poor thing is still stained and stinks of the burnt garlic toast that I tried to make a little more edible by sticking it in the machine for a wee bit longer than I should have. It's a nasty stench, not the mood-inducing aphrodisiacal sort. I had to channel my inner Martha Stewart to appease the natives at the office, else I'll have some serious explaining to do when the head honcho comes back to our shores sometime next week.

All in all, it was funny. I am so glad.

But my arsonist tendencies run much deeper than this. My brother and I, back when we were thick as thieves in Medina, set fire to our living room couch, which naturally spread to the rest of the living room and eventually enveloped the whole apartment in flames within seconds. Of course, it was an accident-but-not-really because we did touch that lit match to the couch. Anyway, rescue was just a few feet away. We weren't alone in the apartment. Good thing Dad was having his lunch in the kitchen, but he was oblivious at first to the commotion in the living room. It was only after the combined effort of my bro and I to contain the blaze proved futile that we resorted to calling Dad in. And boy, was he in for a big surprise.

I still remember Dad heaving the water-filled pail (or was it palanggana? Were there even palangganas in Saudi?) to the living room from the nearby toilet several times in a vain attempt to douse the flames. Neighbors were coming in to help, but we were obviously licked. And what were my brother and I doing? Beats me, probably bawling our eyes out. But get this, I was able to muster a coherent thought in the midst of all the brouhaha. I remember telling my dad, "telephone", like this autistic kid that just learned how to speak. And then he was off to find a working phone to call the fire station. In typical soap opera fashion, the firefighters arrived a little late, but--take note--not too late, to save the day. *Sigh* My dad, the hero.

When my mom found out, I think she went ballistic with worry. Which suited us kids fine since we felt a good spanking could have been the automatic and proper ending to the story. Nothing tragic, thank goodness. At the end of the day, we still had each other. Sure, the apartment was a lot less pretty than when we first moved into it. And we had to keep an eye out for scorpions that would suddenly materialize from thin air at the corners of the apartment, something that rarely happened previously. But hey, it was all good.

Okay, so enough reminiscing. Later.