Warning: Douchebag

A Douchebag, for those not in the know, is defined by Dictionary.com as “a contemptible or despicable person”.

If you would Google the term, most of the images that would come up are musclebound guys in several poses. I have seen pictures of them online, and I was thinking it was just an exaggeration. Here is one sample:

Now, I was not sure why such a stereotype exists, until I personally had a few unfortunate experience. Just recently,a friend sent me a screenshot from his/her facebook (I don’t want to give away his/her identity), with a prime example of douchebaggery (the act of being a douchebag).

The Facebook Screenshot

Here is the loose translation, since it is in our vernacular (Filipino):

Comment 1: “The result of a growing business” — or something to that effect…

Comment 2: ” Thanks!” — from the account owner

Comment 3: ” Use it on Friday!”

Comment 4: “Yeah! We should have a shoe rehearsal!” — from the account owner

Comment 5: “You keep on working out but you don’t look at the fat content of the food you eat, plus you consume a lot of carbs. Goodluck with that!”  

Now, obviously Comment # 5 is from the douchebag. I don’t think he has ever heard of “constructive criticism“. This is one of the reasons why I don’t really use facebook (or other similar websites) a lot. Social Networks magically turn people into “Higher Beings” equipped with the right to bash people over the web and act like complete tools. 

My mother used to always tell me to shut up if I don’t have anything to say nice to a person. But she also told me to always deliver a bad news, if needed, in a diplomatic way, using credibility and skilled discourse. LMAO is surely not a smart choice.   

 

No offense meant to bodybuilders, but douchebags are portrayed as muscle-headed morons maybe because of experiences like this. I had a lot too. When I was new in the gym circuit, there was one competitive bodybuilder who walked in the gym. And he did nothing but mock everyone. I committed the mistake of asking him about the proper form, supplements, etc. All I got was mockery. I learned my lesson that day. Pumping iron may pump air into my head too, so I am being careful. 

 

His last comment, stfub, stands for shut the f*** up, b****h. It just confirms his douchebag level. Any intellectual discourse would be lost with this guy for sure. I told my friend not to comment anymore, to avoid a flame war.  Ah, the wonders of facebook.  

** I did not black-out his name, since he is a douchebag.

Story Telling

I recently had the opportunity to talk to groups of students about financial management. Funny but I found myself talking about my life again, specifically about my childhood and my experience in school. One of them asked me to write about it so they can share it with their friends, since they found it “interesting”. Now I am not entirely sure if they have used the term “interesting” as a positive thing, but I’ll take it as it is. I have been putting this off for a while, but now I think I would be following this through. I would try and create a new page following that theme.

Hopefully this would be a project that I would be able to complete, not just start.

A few more inspiring reads related to the project:

• ABNKKBSNPLAko?! by Bob Ong (a Local Author)

• The Glass Castle by Jeanette Walls

• Queen of The Oddballs by Hilary Carlip

I created a page for that project, but all you would see is the tentative titles. Hopefully the page would be up soon.

I also hope I don’t get a review like what Atlas got in her post: please click here to view the whole post

Sports Fest 2012 Day 3

4 stitches, and a loss. That’s how the day ended.

I’m still at a loss, thinking that I could have done more had I not had the injury.

I got a laceration on the forehead because of a wayward elbow of an opposing player on a basketball game. Damn teammates did not show up on time, and the teammates that did forgot to bring their pride with them. We were down fifteen to naught, until I decided that the embarrassment was enough.

A few blocks and a couple of steals later, I still couldn’t get a shot off. We’re still down by 18 points. I looked at the bench to check if my teammates were there.

They weren’t.

We were playing against the top team in the company, and I was not expecting them to be late, as this was a very important game. Being winless, I was hoping that we could beat the top team and finally have a win and move up the standings. If we beat this team, then it’s going to give us a boost in our confidence. All of our losses are within 5 points, but I still wanted to have at least a win.

My teammates didn’t think the same.

I had to do things myself. I was able to get the ball after the timeout, ran to the other side of the court, felt like I got fouled, but I was still able to score the lay up. I ran back on defense screaming at the referee. I admit it’s not sportsmanlike, but being down almost 20 points with no help could mess up your temperament.

Next possession, I took another shot. Missed. I had to steal the ball away from their center, and took another shot.  This time the referee whistled a foul. I was going to the free throw line.

I did not feel any foul that time, so I looked at the referee, wondering who fouled me. This time, I did not complain, as I felt like he was making up for his missed call earlier. Or he felt sorry for the littlest guy on the court, trying so desperately to score.

I’ll take it either way.

I shot the first free throw, and it went swishing in. 20-3.

I looked at the bench, and it was still empty. Now, I had not played competitively in years, and this was my first start in the Sportsfest. I was running on adrenalin. And it was going down as I was taking a breather at the free throw line.

I missed the next one. I was so preoccupied with thoughts that I was not able to concentrate.

Next possession was where it happened. I blocked their center and ran after the ball. They were able to get it back. Next thing I know, I was jumping up again, as high as I could, to maybe get another block or at least alter their shot. As soon as I came down, I felt an elbow connecting to my forehead.

I did not mind it at first. I was still going up for another block, but my legs did not move. I felt a sharp pain in my forehead, the same spot where the wayward elbow landed. I went down without knowing it.

Next thing I know, I was looking at the gymnasium roof. Teammates around, opponents standing beside me.

Blood all over me.

That was one hell of an elbow.

I couldn’t remember the other details before I went to the hospital to get stitched up, but someone told me that I wanted to go back to the court so bad, that I kept asking about the score. Next thing I remember was I was on a van, on the way to the hospital.

A few minutes later, the doctor was all over my wound, cleaning it, preparing it to be closed.

She then asked me one surprising question: “Do you want to take a picture of it for your Facebook?”

I was like, “Seriously? God damn, doctor. Just stitch it up and let me go back to the court!”

Needless to say, I was agitated the whole operation, which lasted less than 30 minutes. I did not even ask for anesthesia.

I was not allowed to go back either.

We lost too, by 8 points.

Now, all I have are 4 stitches, and a question of another retirement. Maybe this is a sign.

Why I Don’t Celebrate My Birthday

First off, in our family, no one is big on celebrations. We don’t really celebrate anything that is traditionally being celebrated. With that being said, last week was my birthday, April 27th. And with the opening sentence, you should already know that I treated the day as “business as usual” day.

This year was a bit different. One, because I got cake from my boss, and a birthday greeting compilation from Marla . We also watched The Avengers before calling it a day. I would not consider it celebrating, but it is already different (in the best way) than the usual birthdays I had.

I grew up not following traditions, like the aforementioned celebrations. We did not have the financial means before, so I got used to it. Last birthday “party” I had was when I was 5. Then life caught up.

Now don’t get me wrong. I don’t sit around the house during Christmas or New Year hoping to get something better, or feel sorry for myself. I just got used to it. I have always thought about the financial repercussion of celebrations. I don’t want to spend too much on one day, just to follow traditions. I celebrate in thoughts, but not in the usual way.

It is interesting to see the reactions of my co-workers when I told them that I don’t really celebrate my birthday. They actually gave me a cake. Funny thing is, I really did not know how to act when I got it. I was not surprised, as we already have the habit of buying cakes for our teammates on their birthday, that it becomes expected. So I said “Thanks!” and proceeded to put it back in the box.

They had to point out that it was for everyone to eat. Now I was not really sure of this, but I thought that since they gave it to me, then I have the liberty of taking it home. I have a twin brother, so I was thinking of sharing the cake with him. I did not notice the cake was already sliced equal to the number of teammates I have, including my boss.

I was really clueless, in every sense of the word.

One of them asked me if I did not really celebrate my birthday. Their reaction was a bit funny and a bit impish. I felt like it was a crime with the way they reacted.

I also hate the fact that most people would only remember you if it’s your birthday. They would ask for a “birthday treat”, or expect to be invited to a “party” even though the only existing communication we have is once a year, through text.

And don’t get me started with Facebook. I removed my birthdate from my profile because I would be bombarded with messages wishing me a happy birthday, from people that I barely know, or have just met a couple of times, both of which I just did not have the gall to decline their friend request. Plus, they would be expecting for me to give each of them a response.

It goes the same to people that I know for years. The only time they remember your birthday is when they see it on facebook. Try removing your birthdate from (all of) your profile and see who remembers: those are the only people who care enough to do so.

Many people also have the habit of judging what you have accomplished with your age, and normally this conversation would be initiated during a birthday party.. I should be proud of this, but I know that some people would resent that fact, so I keep mum about it too.

Let me give another reason, although I know I would get a lot of hate with this: I have grown accustomed to thinking that birthdays are just a way of telling you that you are one step closer to oblivion. With each candle burned, we may need to think; “Did I ever grow up?”, “Am I going to be a better person now that I am a year older?”. Birthdays just remind us of life’s requirement to grow, but it turns out to be the show-and-tell of how little we did.

I have to admit though, that when I was younger, I used to envy the kids who would throw parties in school or invite me and my brother to a restaurant/fastfood for their celebration. I have always wanted to have one too, until I grew up a few more birthdays later. I also started to find it weird to celebrate something that you have always tried to hide or lied about.
I do celebrate my mom and dad’s birthday though. It is one way of me thanking them of the fact that without them, my birthday, and ultimately me, would not exist.

“Earth” Run

I would just like to share a picture by a Filipino director who joined the recent National Geographic Earth Day Run, held last April 22.

photo courtesy of Francis Xavier Pasion

If this run was “for Mother Earth”, I would hate to see a fun run against it.

To be honest, most people I know who joined this fun run does not even know what the event was all about. It is just another chance for them to join the “in” crowd. And since fun runs are the “in” thing, they hopped on the bandwagon.

The event organizers failed miserably on this one. They should have thought about telling people who joined to bring their own reusable tumblers. Or is that “too heavy” for runners? If these paper cups were already a pain to carry all throughout the run, then I guess a tumbler full of water would be, too. The “runners” failed miserably too, maybe even more.

I am not an activist, but I do care about the environment. I have my own faults too, I admit. But if a huge event like this could be planned properly, then everything would be fine and dandy. Let’s not forget the name this event carries: National Geographic. If there’s any company that can be environmentally aware, Nat Geo is it.

But ironically, everything about the run failed, basing on this photo.

The aim was to save the environment. The result was the opposite.

“Those are paper cups that can degrade, and can be recycled”. The supporters would say. But let me ask you this: isn’t it more environmentally friendly to just forget about paper cups? Recycling them uses up energy too! Remember Earth Hour? Or is that just another fad? And don’t forget where papers are made from.

My friends like to join bandwagons. A lot of them joined this too. I asked them why they run. The majority of the answers were divided into the singlet, and to take pictures. Seriously. After the run, if you were wondering where they went, they went to McDonald’s.

How cool is that?

I have never joined a fun run before, so I don’t have the answer to my question. I don’t think I ever will, too. It’s overpriced and overhyped. I’ll just do my usual jog in the A.M., and then do my part to save the environment.

Sports Fest 2012 Day 2

0-2 for one day. Terrible.

We had 2 games for one day, and we lost both. I played scarcely. The opponents were too tall. I was out of shape. I did not have contacts nor basketball frames. I was playing by feel, with almost no eyes.

Excuses can be given but it was supposed to be a team game. And we all failed.

My first game after a few years turned out to be frustrating. I don’t even want to play in the next few games anymore.

I feel terrible. I was not able to help the team, I can’t even see the ring. I sprinted once for defense, got a steal, passed it to a teammate, and then ran out of breath. The adrenalin gave up on me.

Damn, I am out of basketball shape.

I sat on the bench, contemplating the next steps. Maybe I should just give up basketball completely.

It has been 12 years (more or less) of chasing the elusive championship, and I have not even come close to one. Not anywhere close.

I don’t know why I have this fascination with the said sport. It is a sport supposedly made for taller players. Why do I keep going back to it?

I feel like Earl Boykins most of the time

I looked at my teammates, then at the opposing team. Everyone was taller than me. I was not as fast nor as explosive as I was 6 years ago. The time off from the game only made matters worse.

I am light years away from my previous shape. My skills are no longer at par with the competition.

I guess it is time to hang up my high tops.

my suits and hoops don't match

Sports Fest 2012

I joined our company’s Sports Fest for this year, but to be honest, I am regretting it a bit. I am just tired mentally because of my training classes back to back to back (with another one next week). I can’t even write a (more) decent post than this.

The last few weeks was pure torture. Not because of the work, but just because I have to flip the switch three times. I am handling four lines of businesses, and I had classes for each one, each week. I never had the time to review the updated processes and procedures properly. I had to make do with the time I have, and had. The work is easy; I love it, there is no problem. Only that I was hoping that I would get even a day’s rest for my brain. I have rest days too, during the weekends, but I used it to review my next modules, instead of just purely resting.

Add the fact that I now have game/s on Sundays for the Sports Fest, I think I would go down with fatigue any time soon.

For those who would tell me to just quit: We don’t have any other players, so if I quit, the whole basketball team would be disqualified. Speaking of which, I ordered basketball goggles to help my failing eyesight, and it’s not yet available. The problem is my doctor had to have it custom made since no one usually orders goggles for basketball. No one wants to look “un-cool” in the court. I am now wondering if I would even be able to help the team.

Maybe I should just do a Rodman and play like this (the smaller version, anyway) (may contain NSFW materials; props to the YouTube uploader):

March to April

The page on my notebook are filled with notes from my class. But I still can’t put my other ideas to writing. I usually get it from the news that I watch, the bus ride to and from work, and sometimes it just pops up. Now, after switching from the usual night shift, to a seven day morning shift, back to the night shift and again to the morning shift, I guess I am mentally tired. Not even a 12 hour sleep relieved it.

Let me make things a little bit clearer: I am not complaining. I have a job, and I love it with all my life, and that is much, much better than what other people can say. I have just experienced fatigue that I have not experienced before. Mentally, which is worse than the physical kind.

I train people for a living. I never thought I would be in this situation, but I am happy and content where I am now. But the shift changes has taken its toll and it is affecting my other life. I am also hoping that it would not affect my work, too. Thankfully, I would have a two week constant morning shift.

Since my brain is not functioning that well, I’ll just have a quick, bulleted post.

• I am a bit sad and frustrated, since my sister is leaving our company. It’s sad, because the management on their part of the business is not as okay as ours. With that, I am frustrated because I was not able to act on it or do anything about it, because according to one HR friend, it’s going to be conflict of interest in my part.
• Holy Week – supposed to be for religious and spiritual self-rediscovery. It usually is just another holiday for most of the people. Why am I not surprised?
• I played basketball for the first time in years, and my body was surprised. My first game was great though, but I can’t say the same for my second game. After that, I tried out for the company’s SportsFest, and I was able to get the spot. I am just not sure if it was the best thing to do. I am now thinking twice. Maybe I am getting the jitters, or maybe I am thinking of “retiring” permanently.
• I accessed facebook again, just to check for messages, and sure enough, there was one invite for a “get together”. I would decline, of course. I also saw a couple of posts, which turned me off facebook in the first place. Vain, stupid, narcissistic and “everything else” posts. “Going to the gym”,    ”Going to sleep — at My Bedroom”. I don’t think you’d need to broadcast everything that you do. This is where facebook failed, I believe.

 

I guess those are the only things that I can write about. I still don’t have all connections working, and juices are not yet flowing. Maybe next post would be a little better.

Time for a Change, Again.

I read most of my posts in this new blog, and compared it to my older blogs. By old, I meant really, really old blogs. Two years ago, and older.

Sad to say that I have lost touch.

I am not saying that I am a great writer. I am in no way even a good writer. It’s just that the posts are no longer the same. Do you know the saying that you’ll know when it’s over? After reading my last posts, I had a feeling that it would all be over, if not yet.

I feel like I lost the passion to write. Maybe because when I was younger, I had so much apathy to everyone and everything around me. Not because I wanted to, but because I was influenced by the environment to hate every single thing, living or not, outside of my immediate family, for security reasons. I can’t trust anyone because I didn’t have the luxury to, or so I think. All of this gave me a different perspective, a different world.  A different left and right hemisphere that spews out different thoughts and observations, and with that came numerous posts that I found very satisfactory.

And that is the point.

I felt satisfied with my posts. Every time I hit the Publish button, or whatever button on another site, I have always felt like I did my brain justice, my experience thanked a million times and shared nicely. Now, all I feel is the obligation to post at least once or twice a week, just to keep my blog rolling. I don’t even have a tingle of that satisfaction. Maybe sometimes, but not enough.

All the pain (no emo) as a youngster, helped guide the hand glide through the keys. The brain, directly connected to the hands, and it types as the brain thinks. Split second difference. Like Tupac said, “I go blind and let the Lord do His thing” or something similar. My own version of the Ghetto Gospel. My own story, and my own storytelling.

Is that what I am missing now? I am hoping not.

I look at the blogs of my acquaintances from college and even high school. Some of them, just fresh bloggers. But I don’t want to call myself a blogger. I just want to be a writer, simple and plain. Not even a professional one.  I just want to tell myself that I can write.

I look at the blogs of acquaintances from college and even high school. I don’t want to join the bandwagon, though. It’s not for me. I don’t want to promote senseless products, or products that I don’t really need. I don’t want to force humor in every post, or put too much emphasis on trying to be intellectual. I don’t want to follow famous authors’ style of writing. I want to have my own, or better yet have them emulate me.

I don’t like the direction where my journal is going either.

I read all the blogs that I follow. Don’t get me wrong. I love how they express themselves, and that’s one reason I transferred to WordPress. I feel more content after reading the blogs. Maybe it’s the community, or maybe it just the writers themselves. I just don’t feel the content I get after reading their post, compared to after I publish my own.

Maybe the cure is to post only when I really feel like it. But that’s another change I didn’t want to happen. Back then, I was able to write at will, with the same level of contentment all throughout. It shouldn’t be a problem for me now, or so I thought.

If it takes me weeks to get back on track, maybe that would be necessary. I worried about statistics too much for the past months that I failed to remember why I even started writing and posting online in the first place.

I want to let my future child/children know how fun it is to write, and to read. I want them to read my thoughts when I was younger, when I was their age. I want them to follow. I want them to write every difficulty, obstacle they face and how they triumphed over it, so that they would be able to share it to their children.

I remember my love for drawing. I used to draw a lot when I was a kid. I literally drew on our walls just to satisfy my urge to draw. Then I got cooped up in an educational institution that did not support my love for drawing. Same thing happened to writing. Every school I have been never really helped develop any or all of my potentials, if any.

I’ll start by reading more. I have mentioned that I have been reading the blogs that I follow. I would look for more blogs that pique my interest, and for more books and magazines. I lost touch with these paperback friends, and it is entirely my fault.

I would like to get back on track. One post at a time.

Sick Day

I got sick yesterday, and I am still not sure why. Now, I can’t go back to sleep because I slept the whole night yesterday. Just because of that, I stumbled upon a few interesting things on the ‘net.

Nubrella

It rained yesterday, which is maybe the reason why I got sick too. I was looking at this and it looks nice. Although I am wondering about the pants.  Would it protect my pants??

Knuckle Stun Gun

This description was too funny:

These knuckle enhancing stun guns pack an impressive 950,000 volts of electricity in every punch, enough to paralyze your attacker even if you punch like a little girl.

Lastly:

Flying car - with Description

All the pictures above are from http://www.thisiswhyimbroke.com, and Amazon.com

I also saw this article on SPOT.ph:

This means a lot to comic book fanatics (like me) and all the aspiring artists in the Philippines. I have always dreamed of drawing my own line of comic books, I just did not have the talent and I never really worked on it. But, there’s a lot of great artists in our 7,000+ islands.