Terrible with names, even worse with faces.

Unless I really get to know you, chances are I will forget you. This sounds mean, impersonal, and makes me sound like a jerk, but that's just the awful truth. I'm not one of those people who never forgets a face. I'm more like those people who never remembers a face.

And what makes matters worse is that people seem to remember me (I can't imagine why). I've had more than my share of uncomfortable incidents when people come up to me and say hi, and I have ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA WHO THEY ARE. Nothing. I draw a blank. No general context (i.e. someone from high school or law school, a former collegue or student). Nada. I just don't remember.

Lately, these meetings with strangers have been getting spooky. I don't know anyone in Hong Kong. So when someone says, "Oh my God, it's you" I naturally freak out. This has happened a few times since I got here. People I've met at dinner parties years ago will say hello. Some will say who they are (I'm whatshernamescousin) but others will not. They will just say my name with a tone of familiarity and I will look awkward and try to look like a have a vague idea who that person is.

So when we meet again and I look at you with this half smile half grimace, please just get me out of my misery and tell me who you are.

Walang Load

Me on the phone with B.

J: Yeah, so I'm on the Firm's Dragon Boat team.
B: But you can't swim.
J: Yeah but it doesn't matter because we're on a boat. Anyway,....

Disembodied voice that takes over conversion: Ching-chong-ling-a-ding-yang-ying-sing-tung-chang-ling-nam-siomai-mami-pong-todo-chao... (this goes on for about 10 seconds)

All it meant was, "wala ka nang load".

Breaking-in

I finally broke in my new shoes today. They're not new anymore, over a month and a half and only now can I wear them without getting little cuts on my feet (the most annoying kind).

There is something exceedingly annoying about uncomfortable shoes. There's the obvious, "Tang ina, I thought these were comfortable." thought that passes through your head after you realize you just spent a lot of money on really nice looking feet manglers. Then there's the whole mind over matter, "I will break these shoes in, come what may." And you are having a battle of wills with two pieces of badly dyed leather. You live with wearing the band-aids ("It's ok, it's really not much of a hassle.") and getting the blisters anyway ("I just won't wear them tomorrow so my feet can rest, but I'll try again the next day").

And then one day, after you've almost given up, ("Ok, fine, they really won't stretch no matter what I do") the shoes give in and they're almost wearable. That's the day you look at the small mountain of used band-aids and the significant scar tissue on your feet and think, "I knew these were super comfortable when I bought them."

F.D.F.D.

These are my final days in my fabulous digs. I will always remember my early days in Hong Kong, when I lived in a thousand foot one bedroom apartment with extraordinarily high ceilings. When I didn’t know anyone and ate by myself, but I had a housekeeper on call and my towels were changed daily. It was a time of awkward transition – I didn’t know what to do with two gigantic TVs and two DVD players. When I could plug my iPod into the apartment’s own iPod dock and play music as loud as I pleased – there is only one apartment per floor. It was a time I could make a mess in the kitchen (or anywhere else for that matter) and return to a spotless apartment, with a faint smell of pine scent.

Ah, things were so much simpler then.

"Brown-out" is universal

I always thought that brown-out was a Pinoy term. Something we made up to refer to black-outs that are temporary or those that do not affect an entire grid. You know, like translucent is to opaque. Pinoys have a penchant for making up terms like that, to cover the in-between.

Brown-out. Parang black-out. Medjo black-out.

But then last night, while watching an American movie, I heard one of the characters use the term. I hit Pause and looked the term up. Apparently "brown-out" is not a made-up Filipinized English word.

Click HERE or HERE and see.

Headlines Redux

At least one of these headlines appears in the news every week.

• 7 Killed in Baghdad Market Blast
• 14 Killed in Chinese/Russian Mine Accident
• Plane down in Congo/El Salvador
• Hundreds missing in Indian earthquake
• Dozens missing in Philippine ferry accident
• Tornado Whips Through Southern US
• Employment figures worse/better than expected
• (Due to threat of war/terrorist activity/change in Middle East outlook) Oil prices surge
• UN Peacekeepers Fired At
• N. Korea Ejects Envoy Accused of Spying
  

Why Won't Wolfowitz Walk?

God I love alliteration.

So anyway, this Wolfowitz dude. What's up with that? He admits to playing favorites with his girlfriend (getting her transferred plus giving her a raise) and yet he doesn't resign. What's up with that?

He's President of the World Bank for crissakes. You know, that gigantic financial institution that's supposed to be tough on corruption. He's admitted to the malfeasance, so why/how is he taking the high road? I don't get that. Now if he denied giving his girl a raise, and then took the high road, that I would get. Sort of how the Marcoses think they're saviors or the nation. (The $20B... oh that was Yamashita's treasure that we discovered and which we are now sharing with the country... )

Lesson number one, Mr. Wolfowitz: never admit to wrongdoing. Even if you've been caught red-handed (It's not what you think). Even if your accusers have video (Kamukha ko lang yun). Never, EVER, admit to doing anything wrong. Because when you do, you look silly taking the whole self-righteous path afterwards. You deny. You always deny. It is always better to deny then take the high road. Taking the high road after admitting you were wrong insults our intelligence. Now denying something you obviously did, that's trying to save what little dignity you have left. That's pitiful. And it insults everyone's intelligence as well, but at least there's a logic to it.

Now that BP CEO, that's a class act. He admits to lying under oath, then he resigns. I don't think he should have resigned (so he's gay, so he got involved with a male escort -- he transformed BP from a small UK oil firm to a Shell wannabe), but he admitted to the lying part, and resignation is the natural consequence of the confession. I guess that's why he's a knight and Wolfowitz is... well Wolfowitz.

Shorthand

I just realized that my vocabulary is peppered with what uninstructed people call "acronyms". The terms I refer to below are not acronyms, they're initials of terms or phrases that have acquired general understanding and acceptance. Acronyms refer to actual words formed by the initials of a series of words. Like S.C.U.B.A. or W.H.O.

BTW

FYI

WTF!

LOL

OMG

...and only for WIM, B&A :)

Wanting a tattoo

My father will never understand (nor agree with) this, but people my age (in their 30's) have at one point in their lives wanted a tattoo. Or at the very least thought tattoos were cool.

It was back in college that I thought tattoos were the bomb. They were the mark (pun intended) of tough, no-nonsense, very very dangerous girls. My standard outfit in college was a light colored Giordano polo shirt tucked into khaki shorts with a braided belt and loafers -- I was the farthest thing from dangerous. I was f*cking amiable.

There were these girls who used to hang out near we (the dorks) did. They were skinny, had long straight hair, wore Doc Martens, torn jeans, and smoked like chimneys. They were so cool. One Monday, one of them came to school with a tattoo - a unicorn (or it could have been Pegasus). And we stared. In awe.

The closest thing I got to a tattoo was getting a sun painted in henna on the back of my neck while I was on vacation in Boracay. After one shower, it looked like an impressionist octopus.

15 years after college I think tattoos are icky and gross and getting them is a really great way of catching hepatitis. But I can still remember the mystique they once had for me. And I will always understand why someone (between the ages of 16-24) would want one.

May Day

Well that was quick.

The first quarter of the year raced past me. And if that weren't enough, April came and went in a blink of an eye.

It wasn't usually like this. Time passing so rapidly. There were times I was actually bored before. I remember those times. The general impatience (now my impatience is directed at specific events and people) the "are we there yet?" attitude. Ah, to be 9 again.

But now, time is literally flying and I'm getting scared. There's the whole mortality issue (which we'll get to another time) and there's just the whole "getting older" issue. I'm not as fast as I used to be. I can't lift things like before. Stay up all night and feel nothing the next day. Ah, to be 17 again.

It's strange and exciting to be so conscious of these things now. Time used to just pass unnoticed. Now I watch every move it makes. Ah, to be 32.