Joke Lang!

I know I said my previous post was my last post, but I stumbled upon this just now.


Sony to recall half a million 'too hot to handle' VAIO laptops from Engadget

"Well, this isn't good. Sony's issued a warning that about half a million of its VAIO laptops are at risk of seriously overheating, and could even cause burns. The company says that the heat-monitoring chips of its VAIO F and C series laptops (which were launched in January) could be defective, causing them to overheat and physically warp. Sony says it's received about 40 total complaints about the issue, and that affected customers will be able to download a software fix or contact the company directly to have the laptop picked up for a repair."

I believe that Sony should send us (the J109 class) samples of these laptops in order for us to validate complains, their supposed fixes, and the over all performance of these units or even this series. Yes. I firmly believe so.

WOW

Finished all 4 articles today. All with EXACTLY, and I mean EXACTLY 200 words.

I also finished reviewing the theories for my Thesis. Was on stand-by for Noy-- which was futile and broke my (wooden) heart.

I'm so sleepy and tired. This is my last post for tonight!

ON "Oprah Talks to Ellen DeGeneres"

On "Oprah Talks to Ellen DeGeneres" from Oprah.com


This was a chat log with a 1-page introduction to contextualize it and a nice wrap-up in the end. Definitely a human interest story, it was sadly, not very interesting.

I am not a fan of the two subjects of the article, though I have watched my share of their shows. Based on what I have watched, their appeal is in their honesty and charity. Both have given away countless gifts on air, of course pioneered by Oprah giving away cars to each of her unsuspecting audience members. Ellen herself has a yearly 12 Days of Christmas give-away promo. Along with the laughs, the smiles, and their flamboyant characters, these two have also shed their own fair share of tears on air. I guess it is because of these that I expected more from the article. I had the illusion that somehow, there were still behind-the-scenes acts that would be opened up to us. Of course, we can see it in different ways. There may still be privy scenarios which are still privy from us, or that these two icons have been so open that, what we see on screen, is what we would get whatever vantage point we have.

ON "The Networker"

On "The Networker: Afghanistan’s first media mogul."
by Ken Auletta from The New Yorker.com

“The Networker,” these two words encapsulate the whole of the article. It talks about a man; it talks about the man. It tells you of what he does. It tells you about what the article tells you about. It talks about how one man might very well be your 6-degree-connection to the annals of world power.

If I were given the honor of re-titling the article on a criterion of my own, I would call it “Journal-ist.” The whole article is relaxed but very informative. It was filled with segments that seemed to roll themselves right out the tip of the pen. There were some tidbits that may have been best introduced by “Oh yeah, did you know that...” or, “and, by the way...” The author seemed to be telling a story, not to a brother, nor to a best friend, rather a more intimate companion. He was talking to a version of himself whom he saw a week, a month, a hotel, or a world away. It was so honest, so impromptu, that it gave the sense of reading someone’s diary of secrets and observations. It was like reading the author’s little entries—his little log into his journal.

ON "Author Nicholas Carr: The Web Shatters Focus, Rewires Brains"

On "Author Nicholas Carr: The Web Shatters Focus, Rewires Brains" from Wired.com


This was an unbelievably easy read. The title actually turned me off at first. It was so succinct, so straight-to-the-point, so boring. But as I read through the rest of the article, I found myself learning and enjoying at the same time. Something I haven’t done since Art Attack went off air.

The afore mentioned title was actually reflective of the characteristics of the rest of the article. It was straight to the point and understandable with the least amount of effort. The words used were simplified, yet not dumbed down. When there were highly technical terms that were essential to the understanding of the facts in their full magnitude, there was a brief explanation, or a convenient link to Wikipedia, or both. Or, most amusingly, there were very simple, mundane analogies that explained other complicated happenings that we never even knew were going on in our systems.

Sweet irony came to light upon reading the second page of the article. This semester has found me with multiple copies of readings—copies made when I found something interesting for my thesis in articles I had actually already made copies of for a different passage. Sometimes, hasty skimming does make waste.

ON "The Biggest Little Man in the World"

On "The Biggest Little Man in the World" from GC.com

If Genius is madness, then the writer of this article must surely have been a genius.
The writer used a style that, according to my old-world journalist training, was unorthodox. This was a story, not just a mere scoop—not quite biased, not quite untainted either. His approach to the article was different, but all too familiar.
Unlike how most journalistic articles seem desensitized, this paints a picture, rather than just itemizing whatever needs to be known. Personally, I felt like the work raised the reader from mere spectator to an actual part of the piece, imagining, relating to the experience.
The article goes on to relate the evolution of Pacman from his beginning in 1995, to the annihilator that he is now. Pacquiao’s image is even made greater by the author’s explanations of little facts that may be beyond the normal reader’s stock knowledge. He identifies little facts such as the issues most boxers face with weight changes, and even a short (although not so positive) profile of the Philippines and the Filipinos. I eventually got to wondering how this man seems to know so much about Manny. Then the beans spill. He is now Pacman’s chief of staff.

Regret

Yesterday, I met with a friend in Katipunan for a business deal. We had become acquainted while both serving along with the Noy Volunteers last summer. So, between the idle banter and business talk, we were talking about the preparations for today. He was a somebody then, even now in the little fast food joint we were at he looked commanding.

He reeked of expensive cologne. The cap he was wearing was undoubtedly original along with the shades I was partly staring at his eyes through and partly staring at my own reflection. The little crocodile insignia on his chest seemed to be daunting me. But he was cool. I personally had sprayed myself a couple of times with CK cologne, having just come from the rain and a jeepney. I swear I still smelled like wet soil. I knew I looked stressed—thesis and the weather working together. But he was cool with that.

He invited me to the inaugural rights of Noy. He offered me to stay with them in their clique—the cordoned off area with the Barong laden gentlemen. I offered my services, whatever I could do—photograph, run errands, whatever. He offered me a ticket. I felt shy—neither confirmed nor declined.

Later in the day, I had weighed everything and decided to grasp the rare chance, I texted him to ask for the ticket. He had already given them away. “I’m not attending tomorrow, eh. I said yes to a meeting. Kala ko wala ka din kasi. Ü”

I have been living with the phrase Carpe Diem in my heart. And yet, at one of the most crucial moments, I forgot to live it out.

This is my final post for tonight-- I SWEAR

The moon was just so beautiful. But my little camera, shaky hands, and the long zoom could only do so much.

Taken at

F-Stop f/5.7
1/1600 shutter speed

Nintendo 3DS to Bring 3D Photography to the Masses

from Engadget via PetaPixel

Nintendo just unveiled the 3DS yesterday, an upcoming portable game console that has a 3D screen built in. The screen does not require special glasses, and has an slider on the side to adjust the 3D effect. What’s neat is that there’s also two forward-facing cameras spaced a couple inches apart that allow you to take 3D photographs and video. The combination lets you snap a 3D photo or record a video and see it in 3D on the screen moments later. While 3D cameras have already been available for a while now (i.e. the Fujifilm FinePix Real 3D W1), the fact that the DS line has sold nearly 130 million units means that the 3DS will be introducing 3D photography to millions of people.

The cameras are reportedly only VGA resolution (640×480 or 0.3 megapixels), but this is a big first step in 3D photography becoming mainstream.

WOW. This may very well be the first gaming console that I will buy since the PlayStation1. Yes, I am that delayed in game console terms. And to think that I'm buying it for the camera function. Hmmm

*edit: Ohgeez. I just searched it and the camera sells between 600-900 DOLLARS.
That's like, half of my UP life.

I read on one of the sites I browsed ever-so-recently that one of the epic goals of that photographer was to be able to take shots from any camera, even a phone camera that would need no editing for it to be beautiful.

I sincerely apologize for not remembering who wrote it or where exactly I read it, but if it was you, or you know who it was please do tell me.

Anyway, I didn’t pay much attention to it at the time since I was in a rush, and my brain was about as scattered as…. a bag of rice crispies dropped from the 10th floor.

Now that I think of it… it’s awesome.

In short, at least to me, it means effortless beauty. A serendipitous gift of perception.

I’m including a couple of my unedited cellphone pictures. I hope you find them beautiful too.

For the love of me... I cannot figure out how Blogger arranges these photos. Suffice it to say that The sunny pics are from All Soul's Day.
The Rainy Pics are from c5 road.
The Indoor pics are from CCP

Yesterday...

From j109 class, mom had a little surprise for me when I got into the car. She bought me pancit canton-- and made me a pancit canton sandwich! hahaha

It was good, actually-- the sweetness and the texture of the bread and the spicy pancit actually worked really really well together. I wish I had a Pepsi or a Mountain Dew though-- it would have made the meal epic!

But then, I realized I had to meet someone and that I majorly reeked of Pancit Canton... at least I wasn't hungry!

Recycle old computers for public schools - INQUIRER.net, Philippine News for Filipinos

Recycle old computers for public schools - INQUIRER.net, Philippine News for Filipinos

This is amazing, guys. First of all, did you know that the Philippines actually has a Commission on Info and Communications Tech (aka the ICT?) Second, this commission has this iSchools Project, and they had a recent event which taught teachers and I guess, staff from 32 universities nationwide on how to troubleshoot, fix, and make the best use of whatever equipment that they have.

"As a result, an additional 512 computers resulted in a 67 percent revival rate of defective PC units used as laboratory materials, according to Toni Torres, iSchools project manager."

Said the article.

I just wish they included in the article whether or not they accept donations of old computers. And, if they do, are there certain limits, like, only systems operating on Windows 2000 and up; no dot-matrix printers, etc.? Also, if they're open to donations, how are we supposed to make them?

I hope they bring this to UP, too. I've seen our all-around man, Kuya Lem, tinker and try to salvage what ever equipment we have. I've also seen the mountain of yellowed computers and parts in AS. I can't help but wonder how much of those might still be somehow usable. But then of course this issue begs to ask, "is it worth the effort?" Will the money we save be worth the time it might take to make repairs, and perhaps the slow productivity rate of the old equips? That's just some "take-away." (YES, I learned something from J109 today!)

Study indicates life was possible all over Mars - INQUIRER.net, Philippine News for Filipinos

Study indicates life was possible all over Mars - INQUIRER.net, Philippine News for Filipinos

Special SanDisk SD Cards Adopted by Japan’s Police Force

Special SanDisk SD Cards Adopted by Japan’s Police Force

taken from Peta Pixel

Japan's police is soon to use WORM cards. These are special SD cards that are super secure and can only be used by special WORM-compatible devices. Once written the info on these cards are un-editable. This is why these cards are also known as write-once, read-many cards.

I'm not so sure I want one myself, as it'd be like reverting into film cameras-- write once, and then store away. BUT, it makes me think:

Should we just have taken pictures of last election's ballots?

Pixlr is a powerful, FREE, online Photoshop alternative.

from Peta Pixel

This is not new, nor is it the only program of its kind. I am however featuring it because I find that it is very user-friendly and easy to load.

It's flash-based and really easy to learn. In fact, if you've used Photoshop before, you really should have no problems using Pixlr.

I think that this is ingenious, given that not everyone is like me who carries their whole world around in their laptop, meaning my source files and programs that I work with. Even so, I have found myself with a dead battery, or without my laptop at all, and with little graphic fixes that I have to come up with. Like the one time that the ladies in the SC delightfully and conveniently gave me a faulty CD with the files I needed for an event I was doing in a hotel. The hotel computers also ever-so-conveniently had no photoshop.

Hurray for Pixlr!

Flickr Gets a Makeover, Photo Pages Stretched and Redesigned

http://www.petapixel.com/2010/06/23/flickr-gets-a-makeover-photo-pages-stretched-and-redesigned/

"If you login to Flickr today, you should see a notice at the top of your photo pages informing you of a soon-to-be-released redesign and allowing you to preview it. The new design features the photograph much more prominently, upping the size from 500px wide to 640px on a wider page. The goal seems to be making the page cleaner and more minimalistic, with many of the icons moving to drop-down menus. There’s also a heavier emphasis on geo-tagging, which appears as a small map to the right of the photo."

Is it bad?

Today was a very eventful day for me. I went and got a change of scene. Had a despedida for a friend, commuted to Katipunan and back, and rode a tricycle--angkas. I rode a tricycle! And it was angkas!

Riding side-saddle on a trike on a major road-- the sun just right, the wind (and pollution) rushing at my face and through my hair was magical for me.

I experienced the smells of Katipunan that one doesn't normally experience in an airconditioned vehicle. It sounded very different too. The doppler effect of the horns and the engine sounds rushing right past you, the hawkers, the vendors, the takataks-- it was as foreign to me as german class. I had a cars bumper mere inches away from my leg! I walked past very smelly manholes and storm drains, and all kinds of people. My friends were just short of slapping me to hide my camera and act like this was nothing new-- that I was no stranger to all those. But I was a stranger, in my homeland, sadly, and the experiences were all new to me. And I'm asking, is it bad?

They too, were asking me what I was photographing. They saw nothing photograph worthy, nothing nice-- no notable beauty. I did. And I'm asking, is it bad?

Are my shots so bad, not beautiful, that no one ese understands them? I reasoned that it might take a special eye to see the beauty in the mundane, as cliche as that may sound. They reasoned that it did take a special eye to find that kind of beauty but I didn't have it. Ouch. But I still saw beauty.

I see beauty in the cris-crossing electrical lines. I see beauty in discarded cigarette butts on the sprakly asphalt. I see beauty in mud, in puddles, in vines growing over electric transformers.

I may be insane, but I'm still blessed to see beauty in the mundane. :)

Don't follow your passion. Bring it with you. :)

Good Morning, World. Feast of St. John today.

Hanging out with friends and then.... hoping for that one text. one crushable text... from my Panda Bear. My little teapot. :/

Still, Good morning, World. ;)

Hello world. :) I'm stuck trying to squeeze out 50 books for my annotated biblio due tomorrow morning. I'm really tired. But, once again, here is my day in pictures. :)

Oh gosh. Knorr and Maggi should fight over me. This is SABAWWW

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Muslim concept of time and space is different to that of the Christian point of view only in the fact that their views apply to everyday life, where as the Christians believe it applicable only to the divine. Time and space cannot restrain That which came before it—He who is greater than them. So, to God and Allah, yesterday and tomorrow is as clear and real as right now. The continuity of time and space do not apply to Them because things do not have to follow a certain sequence of unravelling for Them given that they already know what we are all yet to realize.

Given our limited perspective, even our deepest analyses cannot explain or even begin to fathom these facts. It is in the same manner, I would like to believe I understand that the Qur’an discourages the realistic portrayal of figures in Islamic art. Rather than showing an image which will 1) promote the praise of an idol; 2) use images that are based on the interpretation of an artist which may vary from the interpretation of the viewer, which opens an avenue for mistakes, Islamic art advocates the use of the abstract and the stylized.

I believe that this practice makes use of the observer’s mind, and the fluidity of symbols. The symbols used in Islamic art aim to transcend the tangible and seen, and relate the essence of the pieces. In short, it aims to see beyond the messenger and to see only the message. Noticeable in Islamic art is the use of positive imagery—bright colors; continuous patterns that may repeat indefinitely. This, I believe is a reflection of the thoughts of Harold Osborne as published in his book Aesthetics and Art History which states:

Eastern Arts aimed for one-ness with nature, peace, and serenity. Westerners express anxiety, frustration, discontent, mockery, rejection, exclusion, and resentment.

June 22, 2010

The day in pictures. My apologies. I have an Art Studies paper and I am totally stumped about it. If I finish it, I guess I can post it here as my blog for today. As for now, let my photos tell you a story.

I'm taking it upon myself to blog sensibly here at least once a day. While I cannot promise to provide full-text articles daily, I will try as much as possible. If not, I will try to post at least one photo from today.

First up, my photo of the DECL Parade was used in Kalasag, CAL's official publication.

Kudos to the EIC for publishing it with errors in the caption. :p

Next, I met with my P.I. 100 class for the first time this sem. I have it with Senor Maranan. Fabulous guy. I'm scared crapless about the exams but working with him should be cool.

Also, Mom bought 4 Cory watches-- yay!

Aaaand, finalizing the surprise for lola's birthday! Im excited much much much

Last night, I was quite troubled. I was thinking of my family-- how, when our bonds are starting to mend, they inadvertently, though unknowingly hurt me. I was thinking of my fears, my shortcomings. How I seemed to have too much on my plate for this semester-- PI 100, 2 writing-heavy electives, 2 performance heavy electives, and of course the beginnings of my thesis. I didn't even consider my dying love life last night.

I was scared. Quite scared. I didn't know if I could handle it all. I wanted to back out. Drop my subjects. I wanted to be a child again.

I had discussions with my mom and my bestfriend. They both agreed that what I wanted to do would cost me more than get me anything but my pride. My own mind and their thoughts combined were saying the same things, but my heart refused to agree. Pride kept on telling me that money was no object. Everything else said otherwise. It's tougher now that I could say that money was no object-- now that I could put my money where my mouth is, so-to-speak.

Those thoughts plagued me, weighed me down the whole day. I had retired to my room by 10pm, but at 11:30 I was still troubled. I could not sleep.

I talked to my dad then, and to God after. I asked them to clear my heart, clear my mind. To leave the memories that I could learn from, and take all others away. But I also said that should my heart and mind get too cluttered, take those lessons too for the while. I asked them not just to share the burden first, but if only for the night, to take it all. I told them that they'd allowed these all to happen, that they allowed me to get a schedule like this, to grow up in a family like I had, that they couldn't give me the full brunt of everything.

Now, call it exhaustion, call it desperation, call it what you will. But as I was thinking these stuff, despite my pitch black room and the pitch black house beyond that, a light seemed to grow in my eyes. Kind of like when you light a moist candle-- the flame slowly grows and brightens. That's the best I could describe it.

It was just in my eyes though. When I opened them, there was no source, not even my cellphones which we under my mattress just within my reach. Not even my bathroom light was on. I fell asleep in seconds feeling light and generally good.

Mom told me I woke up with a smile on my face today.

And what greeted me in the sky was a rainbow. Not on the horizon, but high up. Not quite curved, not quite straight. No real start, no real end. It kinda just hung there in the sky. It just hung there. Just hang on.

And a Happy Father's Day to you all too.

My family is giving me so much. I mean so much pain right now. They have been for so long. I wish they knew.

This is the reason that I refuse to get married, ever.

Why I both want to grow up and leave; and refuse to grow up-- because my childhood was an amalgamation of quarrels because they were busy growing up too.

Babies must never parent children. I refuse to grow up.

OK Go - Here It Goes Again

Un-freaking-believable. I can barely walk straight on a treadmill, and these people dance on them!

Ancient Chinese secret? Yes. Masons used sticky rice as mortar - CSMonitor.com

Ancient Chinese secret? Yes. Masons used sticky rice as mortar - CSMonitor.com

It's Raining Like Crazy Where I am!

And In The Case of our Security...

So, I guess I’ll be blogging more today. Well, these days, actually. I’m enrolled in Journalism 109 right now—Writing for Popular Audiences. It’s quite strange actually, the title mentions Popular Audiences, but then the course description (as I found out only moments before the class) will have us writing technical stuff. Or is it in a technical manner? Well, not really. Our prof cleared that up for us. Apparently, the strict-ness is just UP forcing something down our throats—again.

Let’s not get to defining techniques, technicality, and technology right now, but yes, we will be writing technical AND technological stuff. BUT! The technique is the point here. We will be writing in a way that will be easy to read for the general public, at least, for our targeted audience. I think it will be kinda like euphemized paraphrasing.

Speaking of our chosen audience, you might be wondering who I chose to write for. If you’re reading this, I guess it’s you, then!

This is blog for all of my age

Asking the questions we’ve got to face

For in this cycle that we call life

We are the ones who are next in line...

Nice, isn’t it? But, not quite true. Not quite.

I’m writing this for me—for people who think like me, the young, young-ish, and young at heart. The cynical, the romantic. Those who’ve been hurt but still weep when they hurt back. Those who’ve sat before their computers dumbfounded, and moments later churn out what they are convinced is the work of their lives

I’m writing this for those who can’t say that they’re scared, and yet who can’t say that they’re not scared.

I’m writing this for those who don’t know where to go or how to get there. Yet, have never stopped trying to move forward. Those who have trod blindly, and in so doing are beaten out their own path.

Yes, yes, I’m writing this for me.

I met her first on the 12th of June (2)

Assigment #1; 315 words

I first met her on the 12^th of June.

It was early still, but the morning promised a hot, sunny day. Perpetually early, I was an hour or so early for class. A girl sat there with a familiar smile. I walked past her, checking out the empty room only to be greeted by the overwhelming heat and smell of it. I return to her. We talk shallowly, but we get along.

In class, the first activity is to choose a partner to get to know. We leave the room to talk. She lost her dad when she was two. She’s twenty-six now, still the youngest of six siblings. She’s back in school, taking up what she really wants. She had already finished Interior Design, but had known for a while that she preferred something more expressive. She tells me she’s worked, though outside of the field she studied for. It was in these jobs that she realized she wanted to write, to express herself. It was in her story of those jobs that I got to know her more.

She directed programs and handled students for the Center for Pop. After that, she worked for Vera Files, focusing on Voter Education. I guess it comes from her mother being a school teacher once, that she sought to educate, and that she actually could. But she later on qualifies that it was in fact in her nature to care for others. I found it strange that the youngest child would do that. I was once the eldest and only child in our family and thought that the job of caring for others came from being the Kuya. I realized that it was actually from being treated as the youngest that molded me more. We were here caring for others because we knew how to be cared for. We wanted to share—to pay it forward.

I met her first on the 12th of June

Assignment #1; 554 words.

I first met her on the 12^th of June.

It was early still, but the morning promised a hot, sunny day. Perpetually early for most everything, I ambled up the UP CMC steps an hour or so early for class. Surprisingly, a girl was already standing there, reading notices where my class should have been. “J109 class under Sir Oliva will not meet tomorrow June 12, 2010” read one of the notices posted right above the door knob. She asked me with a smile if I was there for that same class. I said yes. We agreed that it was a pitiful waste of time to have come to class so early. She said she was from somewhere near Commonwealth when I asked her where she was from. I told her I came from somewhere further. Without saying much more, we parted ways.

I met her next on the 19^th of June.
Like the week before, it was early still, and already the morning promised a hot, sunny day. An hour or so early for class, I ambled up the CMC steps. A girl sat there with an already familiar smile. I walked past her, checking out the room—no deterring note this time, just the overwhelming heat and smell of the empty room. I exit the room to the hall outside where she was waiting, fanning herself. We talk idly, shallowly, but we get along.

In class, the first activity is to choose a partner to get to know. I playfully lay my arm across her. She just smiles. We leave the room to talk—get to know each other. We babble about things, joking each other, mention random facts. She lost her dad when she was two. She’s twenty-six now, still the youngest of six siblings. She’s back in school, taking up what she really wants. She had already finished Interior Design, but had known for a while already that she preferred something more expressive; something literary, more artsy. She tells me she’s worked, though outside of the field she studied for. It was in these jobs that she realized she wanted to write, to express herself more. It was in her story of those jobs that I got to know her more.

She directed programs and handled students under the employ of the Center for Pop. After that, she worked for Vera Files, focusing on Voter Education. I guess it comes from her mother being a school teacher once that she sought to educate, and that she actually could. But she later on qualifies that it was in fact in her nature to care for others, sometimes more than herself. I found it strange that the youngest child would do that. I was the eldest and only child in our family for years, and thought that the job of caring for others came from being the Kuya. I realized that it was actually from being treated as the youngest part of the family that molded me more. We were here caring for others because we knew how to be cared for. We wanted to share it with others—to pay it forward.

Everyone has a story, it’s just that sometimes we need someone else’s story to introduce us to our own.

I met Bernadette Ilao first on the 12^th of June.