Lumang Eskwela, Green Dazed, Etc

10:37 AM: Bamboo screams, "... sa panaginip lang ako nakakatulog!" Inarguably, this is the best song (entitled "Hilo") written by Rico Blanco. In the days when rivermaya was still rivermaya, Rico wasn't a sellout (Imortal Ampotah.), Bamboo just sang and danced and sang (and not try to compose songs which sound alike other songs in the same album.) Nathan Azarcon was cool (and i think he's still cool) and Mark Escueta just played the drums (and not revive a hapless, tasteless new rivermaya, which basically destroyed the legacy of the old River Maya) Oh well and oh fuck. To the old times.

1:39 PM: Billie Joe at the background, "i saw my friend the other day, and i don't know exactly just what he became. It goes to show... It wasn't long ago, i was just like you. And now i think i'm sick and i wanna go home." Fiel at the back of my mind.

2:42 PM: By the way, the wife* ate lunch buffet-style at Shang as she had a meeting there. i had a rather bland boneless bangus from Reyes Barbecue right across our building. Not fair.

The Early Bird...

10:25AM: ... Gets to open the air con at the office. Which pretty means i was really, really very early coming in to the office today (more/less at 7AM) and its paying off: the office is way too cold to everyone's liking. *hands up* yes it's my fault, and i like it the way it is (*puts on the thick sweater with the hoodie on*)

12:50PM: Beef steak for lunch. The wife* prepares the meals these days and thankful that she does (Else: i have to wake up at 5AM) The Little Prince says what is essential is invisible to the eye. Preparing beef steak is as invisible as it gets in this lifetime. (And don't quote me quoting Antoine de Saint-Exupery)

12:52PM: Wife* (yes with the asterisk should be a staple now) which should mean Che would be happy despite the asterisk. i think. (If she's not too happy, am willing to put add as many asterisks as needed)

Random Rants: Aray, aray

9:12 AM: Arrived at the office at 7:23 AM. A "career-high" so to speak. Arthritic ankle and all, i am proud of the accomplishment. i might even celebrate this when i get home. Maybe throw a party for the friends.

10:53 AM: i never liked Guns N' Roses then. Though, i remember Bong Bio (r.i.p.) gave me The Spaghetti Incident album (cassette tape) as birthday gift in high school. Axl Rose is screaming Paradise City now and its giving me the chills.

12:37 PM: Pain on the throbbing ankle won't go away. Misplaced modifier, intentional.

End.

Random Rants: Green Day, WNBA on a Wednesday

2:03 PM: Day started badly as i lose another 50 pesos to my (new) officemate over a WNBA game (Phoenix failed to cover and actually lost the game). Double bad news right there: actually betting on a WNBA game and being a bad influence to my officemate. Total down for this week: -150 pesos. i would like to believe it's beginner's luck for him. (well, i can't think of any other excuse really)

2:08 PM: Random winamp declares Green Day shall be the band of the day. So i unclick random and this means its all day Green day from now 'til 5PM or so.

2:56 PM: Billy Joe sings, "i was a young boy that had big plans, and now i am another shitty old man."

3:01 PM: Billy Joe sings, "i can not speak, i've lost my voice, i am speechless and redundant."

3:57 PM: Just learned that salary will be released on... the 31st! Ffffuck.

And that officially ends (and kills) the day.

Return of Random Rants

It's tough when you can't write full paragraphs coherently. Meaning: i can't write like i used to write anymore. While i have been in a writing job (see last post) the last 6-8 months, i forgot how to write. Well, there are certain notes at facebook, at best i saw it as mediocre writing-- still honest, but i am simply not satisfied with my work there.

It's even tougher when you can't think coherently. Meaning: day-in day-out (and/or night-in and night-out) there are literally a million thoughts running inside your head. And i just want 0.01% of these thoughts to come out, maybe written into a blog entry, make sense out of it.

It's not happening though. So why try? Fuck coherence, i'll just have to write and write and write. Maybe they'll take form on their own.

1:22 PM: About an hour ago, i just texted Che that my shit smells like the shit of Qube. So it's either his shit really smells now; or we've been eating the same food. i am sure i DID NOT partake any of his Gerber (mixed veggies) the last three days; but i AM NOT sure if i shared during his breastfeeding sessions during the wee hours of the morning. So that could be the reason. (Note: i did not text Che that this will make the blog so...)

1:42 PM: Back to back songs from Soul Asylum and Blur from the winamp (randomized) playlist. And i think of the fucker named Ronald James Panis. Fuck fuck fuck. The guy had to die before he could meet Qube. The guy had to die before countless Marvel films too. And a Gaiman HBO series in 2014. Oh shit, i miss the guy badly.

2:59 PM: Not sure if the boss will like me posting in my blog during work hours. However, i doubt he reads the blog. And if he does, i just hope he understand that every 15 or 30 minutes my mind has to wander away from American Football-- else the work suffers. (Excuses actually but really i need to get away from it every once in a while.)

5:21 PM: Today is offset day. Went home early last Friday because of Qube's vaccination. So i have to grind two extra hours today to offset for that under time. Well it's a better option than salary deduction. So i stay... It's a ghost town already when the office is full. What more now?

5:42 PM: So yeah, the former boss name is Jeff and a new boss is named Jeff as well. Does this mean i shall last for ONLY 6 months only as well? i won't delve into specifics but this is United Kingdom vs. Canada right here.

New Gig: www.pokerportal.asia

Like it on facebook or visit the site (www.pokerportal.asia). And save jobs :D

i shall be named James Quasar Qyle Quizon

Like Ma's constant struggle with climbing the stairs of a 5-floor pseudo-condo (eff you non-existent elevator!), the search for the what-they-think-is-the-perfect name has ended. Like Pa's constant struggle with getting over bad beats and uncovered spreads, the endless discussions and tireless debates about what i shall be called will cease.

Finally, at the wee hours of the morning (surprise surprise) while kicking and punching Ma's tummy, ribs and intestines they've decided on my name.

James Quasar Qyle Quizon.

Pardon, Ma. Facebook wouldn't allow the extra S.-- Facebook has something against long names, i had to use the middle name slot for my third name. Come to think of it, you are to blame here since you agreed with Pa in adding a third one...

Now, a little bit of history on how they coined my name. And the stories, and reasons, why they chose it. And before i fail to mention it, my sister already has a name in place: Azira Maya James S. Quizon. It's funny that they easily decided on that one about 6 months ago. But that was before they knew i'd be a boy.

James is pretty much self-explanatory. (As obvious as Pa's vanity.)

Quasar (/kway-zar) Qyle is an offshoot of the idea that my nickname should be Qube (They've already decided too that i'd be using JQUBE as my moniker if and when i decided to register in internet forums.) i think it was Ma who suggested the word quasar and just like that it was an easy yes for Pa.

And who am i to complain? Defined "One of over a thousand known extragalactic objects, starlike in appearance and having spectra with characteristically large redshifts, that are thought to be the most distant and most luminous objects in the universe." it's the coolest thing i've ever heard since Mozart and Ben Folds Five put me to sleep a week ago.

Quentin, Quarantino, Quartz, Quark, Quads, Qing (James!), Quincy and Quotable Quote were all suggested but Qyle got the final nod. When Pa suggested, "How about Qyler as in Qyler Durden?!", Ma answered back, "Just Qyle." And there and then, they had the third Q.

And oh, for posterity's sake, here are the names which made the final ballot; Aziraphale James (Character in Gaiman's Good Omens); AziraJames; James William (So Pa can have a kid that he can call Jwill. Go figure.)

And some names which at some point were considered; Ronald James (Seriously, Pa/Ma were really thinking of "settling" for this because well, Tito Ronald is NOT dead.) James Jacob (Well, it's a different pronunciation Tito Jam, right?)' the unbeatable combination, Ronald "King" James Jacob (my IQ would have been 350 at the minimum, my height at least 6 foot 2!) And even more, suggested by friends: the classic Lebron James, King James, James Yap and even Baby James (obviously from Pa's basketball friends)

Silly them, am glad Ma and Pa settled for this one.

And silly Ma and Pa, here are the (other) reasons why they chose this name... In scrabble, my name would get the highest score and when girls in school play FLAMES with my name, they'd have a hard time crossing out those Qs!

In the Name of the Son

i miss Writing for the sake of Writing. Every press release, news article or TV script i did the last 5 and a 1/2 years brings me to some sort of anti-orgasm--- it's just not fun anymore. Until you realize that this brings food to the table.

Provided, you still write about things that really interest you (in my case, sports and basketball; and now, poker.) Provided, it's not bad a job considering other people get stuck with work they really don't like. Provided, the juice is worth the squeeze any way you look at it. Provided, after all you still have a job to speak of.

Ah, Writing, i fucking miss you and miss fucking you. We should do this again soon and often. For now, i'd like to (re)introduce you to a person i should be writing about the next 30 to 40 years:

Own Goal

As Pa watches Netherlands draw with Spain after 90 minutes (apparently that means a pair of extra time periods of 15 minutes each to decide this one) i realize that my father is a sucker for sports.

'cause you see i've heard that he doesn't like watching football that much. But this particular World Cup? He found the extra time to watch it--- games at 2:30AM to boot! i am pretty sure it's not the same pure passion for basketball in the past 10 years (games at 1AM to 5AM) partly because he bet on it. That said, 2:30AM is 2:30AM.

And that in mind i wonder if he will do the same for me. Will he wake up in the same wee hours of the morning to prepare for my milk?

Will my incessant crying be similar to the sound of a commentator's GOOOAAALL and Pa reacts with similar vigor running from the CR and deliver that milk? Or will it hurt like that Robert Horry's dagger three-pointer at the buzzer vs. the Sacramento Kings years ago?

Will he buy diapers at the same wee hours just like he buys Marlboro Gold when he feels like it--- damn the time and damn the timing of it all?

(Originally posted at Facebook notes. Ugh. Cheezepaperblogspot getting the backseat these days.)

From 3 Stripes to 2 Stripes

The PT showed a couple of stripes. With my leans for everything three stripes life has re-set the priorities: Adidas basketball shoes have to wait. THAT, or just properly scheduling the office league right before the next ultrasound.

There are promises to be made. And well, compromises as well. You just have to clear that up with Che and the 9 week old James ______. (Pardon me, the actual baby name is being discussed ad infinitum, we will get to that. For the meantime that blank line will do.)

A Thousand Emotions, The Ambivalent List (2nd Update)
1. Happiness
2. Gratitude
3. Surprise (this is the pleasant one)
4. Shock (this is the part where tears involuntarily came out)
5. Bewilderment (this is the part where you stare at the blank white wall and all you see is black)
6. Realization (this is the part where Adidas takes a back seat with the mentioned compromise of course)
7. Acceptance (this part came earlier than expected, even by my standard)

Coming Soon: The Mini Me.

The goal is not to live forever but to create something that will. Or at least another that will last a lifetime which isn't mine.

Yes people. i am going to be a father. S/he's 8 weeks old. There are a thousand different emotions swamping me right now. And i can not even write a full paragraph about it.

Let's start with: Inexplicable happiness which is self-explanatory.
And: Thank you, Che.

And so the journey begins. (i can safely assume that within nine months time i can write longer than this. After all, there's about 998 emotions still left to be tackled.)

A Thousand Emotions, The Ambivalent List:

1. Happiness
2. Gratitude

And So It Is: Renaming The Purple Team to Purple Chokers

And i don't mean that as an insult to my teammates. Not at all. i felt. i thought. We did our best and i guess the best wasn't good enough. James Ingram cliche aside, it feels that way.

Kristian asked if we indeed choked. And no better answer than to say yes. What doesn't kill you makes you better, eh? And no better way to drown the depression-slash-depression (yeah, it's the freaking same word with the same freaking meaning, the slash is just for emphasis) with a quad of San Mig Light with Encarnacion-slash-choker with myself-slash-choker. With Cindy and Che and Rigor (very important persons in our respective lives.)

At the end of the day, we lost to a better team.

A promise: Yellow (Solar Entertainment Corporations TOC/Engineering Department basketball squad) deserves a headliner for the E.C.L.I.P.S.E. next release, which will happen on Monday.)

Purple sucks on this night (and a couple of nights ago) but hey, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, eh?

And oh:

Clima Madness record: 0-2. Bullshit. i don't believe the shoes matter. (However, i just found an excuse to procure a new pair of Adidas before the next conference/season starts. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger--- in this case, when Life gives you lemons, you make lemonades. That, or just buy tequila at your nearest 7-11.)

Fantasy Choke

Fantasy year summary:
Money Leagues: 2nd (Head-to-head), 5th (Head-to-head), 9th (Roto), 2nd (Roto)
Fun Leagues: 1st (Head-to-head), 2nd (Head-to-head), 11th (Head-to-head)

It''s a mediocre finish by all means. What hurts is the fact that in three leagues where i ended up with a silver finish were the same leagues i was leading for much of the season.

That people is an example of choking in sports. It's equivalent to a missed (open) lay-up during a crucial moment in a basketball game. You are almost there. Operating word: almost. There are many reasons why such choking happened. Maybe you just did not have heart for it (folding under pressure) or simply just did not have enough skills to do so. In this case, it's a little bit of both.

It's a little bit of fate and stupidity as well. Some things you just can't control (injuries to key players, unforeseen incidents that caused you to missed add/dropping key players at key times, etc) and some things you controlled (add/dropped a few risky players which you THOUGHT will play/contribute that day, relaxed on days you shouldn't have relaxed i.e. getting Jason Williams 2-3 days during the finals of one head-to-head championship, missing games intentionally for certain playes, also called "faltering mathematics skills.)

Either fate or your own undoing it all resulted to mediocrity. And like after every choke job, all you wish for is another chance next time. That said, see you fuckers, i'll be back with a vengeance next year. i enjoyed every bit of adding and dropping and failed trade attempts, just like always. And knowing these guys i played with, they feel exactly the same.

And oh, that was the bad news. There is one good news i have to tell. The mediocre finish, the choke job still netted me this one cool item:


So yeah, until next year fuckers. Until next year. (And when i call you fuckers, that means you're one cool dude because you played with me in one of my fantasy leagues)