Sunday, October 29, 2006

The Fairy Alphabet

Ifinally found a copy of the "Fairy Alphabet" from Sesame Street which I loved when I was a child. I thought I would never see this again.



When in Oz...

Ærynn and I love to cook, and in order to cook, one must have ingredients. So, we didn't think that it would be difficult to find those ingredients. We are living in an English-speaking and yet multi-cultural country after all.

Until we discovered that there are just so many names for even common ingredients that we didn't know about until too late. For instance, we had to put up with thin soups and crumbly chicken before we realized what Aussies called corn starch—corn "flour".

Below is just a short list of other ingredients:
  • Bell pepper="Capsicum"
  • Egg plant="Aubergine"
  • Chicken="Chooks"
  • Sandwich="Sanger"

Sunday, June 11, 2006

A trip to the Melbourne Aquarium

For the longest time, I pestered Ærynn to take me to the Melbourne Aquarium. Finally, being financially independent myself, I took her instead. Here are our pics, on the Sunday before the Queen's birthday (12 June). There aren't much of them, since we still don't have a real digital camera and all these pictures have been taken with my mobile phone (which doesn't have that much memory, so we had to be picky with our shots).

Little Pasig in a corner of the Yarra on the way to the Aquarium

The Melbourne Aquarium, as it looks like when approached from the waterfront

"Here there be dragons"—a really nifty Sea Dragon was one of the creatures we first saw

The Melbourne Museum isn't just a place filled with tanks of water that happen to contain aquatic life-forms, there are permanent learning kiosks as well...

... this particular one shows you the different electrical charges certain fish and eels make compared to your own (which you determine by placing your hands on some electrical sensors shaped like palms)

This is just an example of a sort of "question-and-answer" type gadget; read the question/riddle/puzzle...

... and then flip to get the answer/solution. These are not the only gadgets around there; others are actually more ingenious, but these are the ones that fit on the view-finder.

Ærynn looking over a man-made billabong[1]. There were creatures living in it, too.

One of the main attractions of the Melbourne Aquarium—the "Shark Tank" (which actually has not only sharks but rays and other large sea-creaturs)

There were some signs that said that because of the curvature of the glass in the observation deck, the creatures would actually appear smaller than they really are. Later we got an idea of just how big when some divers were also in the tank to provide a comparison in actual size. That shark in the background was really huge! Crikey!

Ærynn took this picture as I stood on one of the observation decks.

This lady giving a little talk about sharks as divers prepared to get into the tank to feed the sharks and the rays.

Jellyfish...

... more jellyfish...


... and then this particularly magnificent one (tentacles as long as a person's height and that umbrella the size of a salad bowl).



But the most magnificent of them all is the display of a real (but dead) giant squid frozen in ice. I couldn't get a decent picture using my mobile phone, so I just downloaded this one from Wikipedia. To get an idea of the size of this small specimen: that entire block of ice is as long as a small car. Giant squid, by the way, have already been photograped alive in the wild.[2] [3] [4]


When in Oz...

There is a way to have a guided tour around Melbourne for free—ride the City Circle Tram. After we left the Aquarium, we decided to take a ride on this special tram (which, unlike the other modern trams, is one of the older ones made of wood, makes lots of noise, and has an automated voice script for each of the tram stops, explaining the sights) and we had a wonderful time. (We took the tram at night, so I'm showing another Wikipedia picture below.)


Now that the "holy grail" of finding a live giant squid is out of the way, I find out that there is an even larger squid out there. What does one call a squid even larger than the giant squid? "Colossal Squid."[5] [6] [7] Figures. I took this comparison chart from this squid article on BBC.

Sunday, May 28, 2006

A Foggy Day in Melbourne Town

One of the things that one doesn't get very often in the Philippines anymore is real fog.
View from our balcony on a normal day. . .View from our balcony on a normal day. . .
I used to experience fog in the Philippines when I was a young boy, during the early mornings in Baguio or in Cavite. It has been a long time since I actually had the pleasure of real fog.

But one of the glorious things I am experiencing now is real, almost tangible fog. Winter is setting in and it is getting cold, but fog does not usually form. However, over the last two weeks, there have been at least one day that there has been fog, and I find it wonderful.

Oh, I am aware that fog is dangerous and hazardous. Ærynn tells me that fog only seems wonderful if one isn't driving around in one's own car but instead riding a train to the city.
. . . the same view during a foggy day.. . . the same view during a foggy day.
I also know that it may not be very healthy to have too much fog. But it is still the most wonderful fog I ever experienced, not dissipating when one comes too close and with one's breath actually adding to it. Here, too, one's breath actually "smokes" even when one is merely talking. Still, I find the fog really nice.

There are times when I try to awaken the "creepiness" when I walk through the fog, because this is very much like the sort of atmospheric quality of the game and movie called "Silent Hill" but one thing that is absent in Silent Hill but present in Heidelberg are the noises and the colors. One cannot feel creepy. I feel, rather, that this is just one aspect of Lothlörien: dangerous but wonderful at the same time.

Silent Hill
I took all these pictures with my camera in my mobile phone when Ærynn and I were on our way to the train station to go to work. As she had mentioned in the previous entry, I now have a job. For the first week while we underwent what is known as "induction" I also got to ride the train in the morning and walk from the station to the street where the main office was. Incidentally, it was just a block away from where Ærynn worked, but we've only had lunch together once—we were that busy. A bit about the differences between what Pinoys and Aussies mean about induction. To the Pinoy, induction is a ceremony where some new manager or big-shot is welcomed to work. To the Aussie, it is at the very least a three-day orientation program (ours lasted about a week) that is meant to have us up and ready to work: we are introduced to everybody and their functions (no long and arduous trial-and-error methods of finding things out through assimilation), we are shown what our duties are, and we are given a trial run where we are allowed to make mistakes. How about that.

The bowling lane just on the
other side of our street
After the induction, I was given the option of working from home. There are, of course, several advantages, primary of which is that I don't have to wear my suit very often. It's not that I don't like wearing the suit because I am glad for the excuse to dress up. It's just that I only have one suit and I can't afford to have something happen to that suit. Suits here are expensive (costing around $200 to $500) and having the suits dry-cleaned (a must) is also expensive ($11, while a good meal already costs $6).

That's another reason why I am in no hurry to go to the city for work, much as I want to. We've so far been living off Ærynn's salaray and even if we aren't destitute, having another mouth to feed has reduced us to living hand-to-mouth. Of course, this is not as bad as living hand-to-mouth as it is back in the Philippines, but being able to cut corners until I start having a much more regular salary is a good idea. And one way to cut corners is to prepare lunches from home without having to spend on public transportation or on a restaurant. In fact, I even make lunches for Ærynn to take in the morning.

The Heidelberg train station across
the street enshrouded in mist
And so I work from home and, technically, we are allowed to keep our own hours. Practically, those of us who work from home need to keep basically the same hours as our office-bound brethren. For one thing, our team leader and Lead Instructional Designer, ð–, should always find a way to contact us and vice-versa. So we were instructed to install Skype into our computers so that we can always call each other if we need to. It was just like going to the office after all, except that I can be dressed in my flannel pyjamas and gusset slippers (which I was dressed in when we were having our weekly meeting via phone conference).

There are few things that I miss from the Philippines and which Australia does not have. One of the most important is true unlimited DSL Broadband. I believe a lot of people take it for granted that Pinoys pay a pittance for DSL service that allows unlimited downloads. In Australia, we are limited to a monthly allowance. The cheapest is around 300MB per month. If all you do is check your email, then 300 megabytes a month isn't all that bad.
The Hurstbridge to Flinders Street train
coming out of the mist
But if you chat and use VoIP, you are in big trouble. For the unfortunates, their ISP would start charging them for every extra megabyte they download above their monthly allowance. The fortunates (like us) merely have their download speeds limited, from 512Kbps to only 28Kbps and no extra charges. Of course, it means snail pace internet access slower than even the dial-up in the Philippines.

So, even when we now have Skype (for free calls over the internet to our family back in the Philippines) and even a web cam (given to us by GM from Fairview Park), we can't use it. We've used up all of our data allowance and the only time we can use it freely would be today, the first billing day of the month where everything is reset. At least Ærynn had enough foresight to get the package that allowed us to download 2 Gigabytes a month, but even that wasn't enough. We're thinking of upgrading our account to 7 GB a month, but at the cost of an extra $11 to the monthly bill. We will pace ourselves instead.
When in Oz...

Ærynn was asked how it felt like to be a "dink"—of course, she had no clue what that means. DINK, it appears, stands for "Double-income, no kids" and she was asked that because I already had a job too. Finding that out, Ærynn had to truthfully answer that she didn't feel like a dink yet, since my first paycheck comes a month later.
All in all, God has been faithful and active in our lives in such a powerful way. It sounds clichéd, I know. . . like the sort of things that false prophets (televangelists) get people to say on their TV shows to get even more people to give them more money. But God really has. I cannot say I didn't expect God helping and blessing us—it was as expected as when people who love us give us help. But it is as wonderful and tangible as the fog that was wafting around Heidelberg that morning. People were taking that fog for granted in the same way that a lot of people take God's blessings for granted, which isn't always a bad thing. What is a bad thing is when we stop being thankful for those blessings and, instead, feel that we are entitled to them. I know that I am not entitled to what God has given us now, but I am glad and thankful that He blessed us anyway.

Friday, April 21, 2006

My Grass is Green

It always comes as a shock and a revelation whenever one finds something new about oneself. Or rather, when one realizes that one actually has some attitudes that one never expected. I never expected that I would be one of those Pinoys that was subconsciously assuming that 'the grass is greener on the other side'. When I touched down here, I was smitten by the same sort of fever I once observed in Ærynn, the sort of fever that constantly 'realizes' just how much better Oz is over the Philippines.

I also realized that, inspite of all this, I am still very much a Pinoy. I still catch myself saying 'sana ganyan din sa atin,' as if 'atin' was still the Philippines. Ærynn is already well on her way down the road of becoming a Melbourne citizen (identifying with Melbourne whenever it is held in comparison with Sydney, for example) and feeling that Victoria is her state. I think I am fortunate that I don't feel terribly homesick or experiencing the debilitating type of culture shock (I mean, I still have it, but not to a debilitating degree) because I came here with a 'home' waiting for me. But, as I said, I am still so much the Pinoy in that I always wish and, indeed, insist that some of the wonderful things I find here should also be found in the Philippines. It was only a bit later that I realized that Oz and the Philippines maybe different, but not really 'worlds apart' different.

Take the self discipline, for instance. In the Pinas, I got used to long, unorderly queues to the MRT/LRT with security checking everything and almost everything banned on the train. The train stations are basically sealed off. But here security is so lax. It's relatively easy to board a train and step off without a ticket. I've even seen people bring along dogs, bicycles and into the trains. I've been told that times when security is heightened is when there are terror threats or big events like the last Commonwealth Games. But, in the main, it seems, Aussies are perfectly willing to obey rules without having to be told all the time by someone else. And so, no one eternally having to check your pockets and look into your bags.

Apparently a self-regulating country is a much free-er country than one that needs too much 'maintenance' and 'regulation.'

Yet, inspite of all the self-discipline, I am beginning to find that one of the things that Pinoys and Aussies will share is that there will be some people who are thoughtless and rude. Public transport passengers whinge (complain) through MX (a free afternoon newspaper) about the rudeness of people along their train line—people jostling old people aside, or not allowing passengers to get down first before boarding, among other complaints. When I read about that, I actually said aloud 'Ah. . . parang Pinas din pala.' I'm sure that there are certain places in Manila and Quezon City, or even the Philippines that have their well-mannered communities (up until the late 90's, I would have said Baguio City every time). But although Manila has a much denser population than Melbourne I found more polite, helpful people here than back there. Perhaps the added stress of living so closely to too many people is detrimental to manners.

So, whenever I hear an Aussie complain about Melbourne 'losing the Melbourne spirit that we had during the Commonwealth Games' (the spirit so akin to the mythical bayanihan spirit we Pinoys supposedly have) I smile inwardly a little bit. With Pinoy attitudes and manners still fresh in my mind, I still think that Aussies are better off. But that isn't very fair. It is, after all, a matter of relativity. Maybe someday, when I get to know Aussies better, maybe I, too, shall think that things can still be better.

One other thing that I didn't know that I didn't think I would see in Melbourne is poverty and unemployment. I mean, this is the country of opportunity! This is the country that actually gave me my Tax File Number, my Medicare number, and help in finding work within my first month here. I mean, there are actually systems already in place to help people like me find not just work but the sort of work that is suited to me. For free. While the universities in the Pinas would do its level best to make you go through the motions of education (not caring whether you actually learn skills or not as long as you end up with 'a degree'), they cast you adrift as soon as you graduate. Then you find that all those years of tuition was wasted on acquiring outdated skills or knowledge, that you have to undergo more training to make you fit for the workplace. So I am pleasantly surprised that the Aussies actually put a premium on what you are actually able to do.

Yet there still is poverty. There still is unemployment. Right here. Right now. Homeless people stand out anywhere, and especially here.

Still, it seems that Aussies accept that poverty and unemployment are a large enough problems in Oz that they created those very systems that are helping me now just to stem the tide. Apparently, even if we have a highly educated and literate society it doesn't necessarily mean an end to poverty (as Pinoy politicians believe with so much faith). I have been told, in fact, in one of those free employment seeking seminars that the phrase 'it isn't what you know but who you know' is as true in Oz as it is in the Philippines. What d'ya know? May palakasan pa rin.

The difference is that those who are unemployed here are those who haven't gone to 'Uni' (that is, the University, or college), or have very few skills, or started out too poor to go to school and get those skills or are migrants. On the occassion that they are Uni graduates and still unemployed, it's because the job market is saturated and therefore has become competitive. Which is all very nice and logical anyway. Of course, these may very well turn out to be generalisations and I may be proven wrong at a later date.

In the Pinas, however, where people claim University education as a right, and therefore all should have it, every job is saturated with people who are, in theory, over-qualified. High school students here can find jobs whereas in the Pinas if you are a high-school graduate you might as well be a 'no read, no write' person (which, I sadly observe, may not be very far from the truth) and no job other than the really low-paying ones are open to you.

But the Philippines does not hold the monopoly on the 'dumbing down' of education. Just this morning I was watching the Sunrise program on Seven (which is their version of Unang Hirit, which is coincidentally shown on GMA 7) and there was a report on the 'dumbing down' of English courses to make it easier for students to pass. Sounds familiar, since in the Philippines, it is being done for decades. The younger generation (apparently worldwide) are less able to read and write than their predecessors. It is a slow descent into entropy. So far, the Aussies are trying to fight it, as opposed to the Pinoy way of justifying it. At any rate, the Prime Minister (John Howard) seems to be demanding the inclusion of more classics on the reading list to improve matters (imagine Tita Glo, may she leave office, trying to convince the already lazy Pinoy students to read more books—it might be what finally topples her from power).

I also altruistically believed that teachers in Oz may be better off than teachers in the Philippines. Then I remembered this old article I wrote about an article written for The Age some time ago, and I'm not in such a hurry to become a teacher here after all.

As my wife Ærynn puts it, one only truly realizes that the Philippines is a 'third-world country' only when one is living in a more developed country. Yeah, humans are humans everywhere, and the same flaws in Pinoys can als be found When in Oz...

Whingers are those who whinge or complain too much (seems to have come from 'whine' but is pronounced to rhyme with 'hinge'). Looks like I've done a bit of whinging myself.
in Aussies, but here I find a basic truth resonating again and again but which people everywhere do not want to admit: there is more freedom when there are limits. Pinoys do whatever they want, and are allowed to do whatever they want because of widespread and endemic corruption down to the grass-roots level, and so they have to contend with security guards everywhere and not so efficient systems. It is what they have foisted on themselves and it is what they deserve. Aussies, too, are prone to the same follies, but they have a set of strict rules which actually gives greater freedom.

It is a major controversy now that the police are pushing to have the law changed that will allow parents to be held responsible for the wrong-doings of their errant children. If this becomes a reality soon, maybe Australia will become a better place to raise kids after all.

But, these are the words of one who's only been here less than a month, and I'm only calling it as I now see it. I shall keep watching, and we shall see. In the meantime, my grass is green.
Someone once told me
The grass is much greener
On the other side
And I paid a visit
(Well, it's possible I missed it)
It seemed different,
Yet exactly the same

'Til further notice,
I'm in-between
From where I'm standing,
My grass is green

(Someone once told me
The grass is much greener
On the other side)
(theme song from As Told by Ginger)

Monday, April 03, 2006

Burgundy Street


Gryphon Hall014.jpg
Originally uploaded by Gryphon Hall
This is Burgundy Street, supposedly the heart of historic Heidelberg. I had to walk down this street to purchase a few things we needed around the house. This was the first time I went downtown on my own without my wife accompanying me.

It was ok, I guess.

Tuesday, March 28, 2006

A New Honeymoon: The First Week

It has been an exciting week. Ærynn has convinced me to make regular posts on my first few days here; she notes that a lot of people eventually take everything lovely in Oz for granted and stop being thankful. She says, and I agree, that if there was some record of what, at first blush, seems real and good, it can stave off what the Commission on Filipinos Overseas told us was an epidemic amongst Pinoy migrants: clinical depression.

But first, a rundown on the past week:

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

Three days left. . . be still my heart

Iam used to moving. I have been moving for as long as I can remember. I used to like to think of myself as an expert in moving. But there is a difference between walking a tightrope 3 feet off the ground and walking the same tightrope several stories up. I can say that I prepared for a move with no fear whatsoever just because of the very "correctability" of the move. I would move from Quezon City to Tarlac City to Novaliches in a heartbeat and not have any problems because of the very real fact that even if I screw it up or even if I left things behind,
This is my "countdown" to how many days I have left until
the flight, which, of course, will reflect that there are
no days left if I'm actually with her already.
I can always come back to either get my stuff, whether it were with my folks or in my former apartment.

But thanks to the sheer "uncorrectability" of the move to Oz is promising to be, I am (shamefully) at my wit's end. There's the weight restriction, for one. And then there's the stuff I'm not allowed to bring (my cherished heirloom sword). These are all severely limiting to someone who is sentimental and loves his stuff. I just extracted a promise from my mother to box up all the stuff I leave behind. For what? I'm not coming back for them, am I? The sort of rationalizations that play in my head is the possible scenarios of my kids poring over my old stuff and finding out what their old man is like. Possible, but probably improbable. Why am I like that? And why am I like that only when it is this particular move? I have gotten rid of stuff that had had "sentimental value" before with no ill effects; why now?

My wife asks me the same question everytime baggage of another kind would occassionally crop up in our conversation. It is so easy to leave hang-ups when the move seems to be "small-scale" but "large-scale" (perhaps I should have used the term "larger-scale" instead) moves show me clinging stubbornly and desperately to those same hang-ups? Why am I like that?

Fortunately, these same limitations may be the very things that will help me let go. Perhaps the very transitoryness of a Pastor's Kid's life has taught me to let go. Maybe what I felt was "small-scale" and "large-scale" is not so much a matter of degree but merely impression. When my hard disk crashed and I lost my portable camcorder, I was bothered but now I rarely miss them—I survived and went on.

Of course, when I talk about one particular emotion for the sake of the unity of a post there is a danger that the reader will assume that that is the only emotion I am feeling and not have an accurate picture of the "me-as-I-am". It isn't. What I've just written down is just the small, nagging itch amidst the torrent of joy and giddiness I am floating in with the thought that I shall be joining Ærynn soon. As I write this, the Daisy Chain above says "3 days until we are together." This is happiness. This is joy. After so many times of having to adjust the Daisy Chain, finally it is going to remain as it is and to let the countdown continue. This is happiness. This is joy. And maybe coming just as I am and leaving all those other things that seem to be so important right now doesn't even count as a price to pay to be with my wife.

And, maybe someday much later, I will have to think of leaving more behind to be in more glorified surroundings.

Thursday, March 09, 2006

In search of Battlestar Galactica

I may have several drafts of possible posts waiting to be finished, but I am too lazy right now to actually write something that makes sense. So, instead, I'm listing down a link to an interesting article I came across while I was trying to find out more about the new Battlestar Galactica. I hope that my wife and I would watch this series together someday.




You can also download (using BitTorrent, of course) the live presentation of "Piracy Is Good?", delivered by Mark Pesce on May 6th, 2005 at the Australian Film Television and Radio School in Sydney. (200MB) Very, very interesting, to say the least.

Who would have guessed? They actually made a classic series better. I wish somebody someday can do the same for Mulawin and Encantadia.

Sunday, February 19, 2006

Resolved: I shall be constructing an hPAA

This week has been unexpectedly busy for me. Since last week I had been involved in an internet debate and I have been having a rum time trying to organize my data. I have also been assigned to give the mid-week sermon last Wednesday (February 15), which meant even more organization of data. I have also had to give assistance to one of my brothers in researching a good enough PDA phone to replace his excellent but suddenly not as "useful" Nokia. Later in the week, I've had to visit the family of a poor guy who was murdered for his cellphone, and then make the tedious trip back to my former employer to get my back pay and put it in the bank.

My youngest brother had been taking his post-graduate studies finally this year and, I am happy to report, doing well. However, he is suddenly finding that having a job and studying in the evening is taxing and time-consuming. To cut a long story short: even if he has a PC at home and access to a laptop that his job is allowing him to use, he finds that both are still too inconvenient for him. He needs, for instance, access to several Bible versions and a few resources that would have had him lugging around big books, or else, copious notes. There are, of course, eBook versions of these that are normally readable on the PC or a laptop, but as I said these are very inconvenient to bring. The obvious solution is, of course, a PDA.

Since he cannot afford something brand new, he has had to trade in his Nokia and get something second-hand. If I might say so myself, the O2 XDA II PDA we got last Wednesday was a good bargain. It had the original box with complete original accessories with it, including the important installation CD. By the next day, I had already installed a lot of free resources (like several Bible versions, including one in Tagalog, and some other references) and he was able to copy his report (in MS Word Doc format) onto it for him to easily modify later for his class.


It took almost the entire day on Wednesday to find him a good bargain, and I had barely enough time to prepare my sermon. I wasn't in the mood to use the lectionary and I had wanted to give a sermon on "Love" since it was February after all. But I found that having too much to say is as much a disadvantage as having too little. In the end, I merely listed down some facts that I do know about love (including the four divisions that C.S. Lewis made) and several Bible verses about why we should love and what cold love is a symptom of. I used the "Compose" feature of Gmail to write my sermon so that I don't have to open MS Word or WordPerfect. I wrote only an almost bare outline and decided to wing it later than night.

In the end, if the congregation is to be believed, they thought it was the best sermon I have given yet (I've preached a total of two to this particular group of parishoners), and one of the pastors listening even told me that he was touched to the heart. It was a personal success for me, but I must admit that it almost ended in disaster.


If there is one thing that ties in all of these is that, despite having a PDA myself (an aging Palm m130) I am still having difficulty organizing data. Oh, I am very happy with my Palm device for data of a digital matter; but I mostly use it as a portable digital library of eBooks I have either obtained or digitized myself. I rarely use the "To Do" function. About the only other function that I extensively use is the "Calendar" function (as a glorified alarm clock to remind me of important events like birthdays and tv program schedules) and the "Address Book" function (for storing phone numbers and other details). But the one thing that I had hoped I could use it for, that of a personal database, is the one thing that I have not used it for lately.

It's not entirely my fault. I had in previous times used it as such, using Documents To Go as a digital "tickler" notebook. But I have since worn out the touch screen with my incessant note-taking that it is no longer reliable for that purpose. The touch screen works well enough for me to access my eLibrary, but little else.

I can, of course, purchase a folding keyboard, but that kinda defeats the purpose of it being a "portable" digital notebook. In the end, it spends more time sitting pretty in it's neophrene holster as a glorified digital Library and newspaper (using AvantGo, I'd been downloading the Daily Inquirer and other news sites) that I can read in the dark.

But with this on-g0ing online debate, I really need a notebook for taking notes and organizing my thoughts. I had always used tickler notebooks before, but inspite of their working well for its purpose, they aren't versatile enough.


Then, several things happened at once. I remembered that back in college we used notecards instead of notebooks (basically, they are index cards used for the purpose of taking quotations and properly referencing them). Before I started using my wife's m130, I always had a pack of them in my pocket for taking down notes. They were easy to organize, but also easy to lose track of.

Then, while reading about Internet Phenomena on Wikipedia, I came across this article on the Hipster PDA, and it seemed to be the answer I was looking for. I quote the entire article below:
The Hipster PDA is a paper-based personal organizer popularised, if not invented, by San Francisco writer Merlin Mann. Originally a tongue-in-cheek reaction to the increasing expense and complexity of personal digital assistants, the Hipster PDA (said to stand for 'Parietal Disgorgement Aid') simply comprises a sheaf of index cards
Hipster PDA
held together with a binder clip. Following widespread coverage in the media and blogs, the Hipster PDA (abbreviated 'hPDA') has become a popular personal management tool particularly with geeks and followers of David Allen's Getting Things Done methodology and users of the Fisher Space Pen.

Advocates of the hPDA claim that it is a cheap, lightweight, free-form organiser which doesn't need batteries and is unlikely to be stolen. Critics cite the lack of integration with desktop PC productivity software and point out that there is no easy way to back up the often critical information stored in an hPDA.

Although it began as a joke, or perhaps a statement about technology fetishism, the Hipster PDA has rapidly gained a population of serious users, with hundreds posting pictures of their customised hPDAs on photo sharing sites and exchanging tips on Internet mailing lists. Enthusiasts also design and share index card-size printable templates for storing contacts, to-do lists, calendars, notes, project plans, and so on.

The Hipster PDA (perhaps so named because it is a pocket device, or as an allusion to hipster culture) has become something of an Internet phenomenon, gaining popularity primarily among young, technology-literate people especially IT workers. It represents a 'back-to-basics' or Zen attitude to personal management.
The answer has been obvious all along. In my most recent job, I had used index cards more often than tablets they gave us; I had even written my entire presentation on it. Of course, the term is a misnomer, since PDA stands for Personal Digital Assistant, but this "PDA" is not digital. It's analog. Of course, according to the article above and the site that "instructs" you how to "construct" one (43Folders), it's supposed to mean "Parietal Disgorgement Aid," whatever that means. I guess they need to keep the PDA acronym to preserve its "geek" factor; calling it merely a "sheaf of index cards" isn't cool.

I will be constructing one, because I need it (especially on that online debate on the mailing list), but I will be calling it hPAA, short for Hipster Personal Analogue Assistant. It will be pronounced as hi-pah (with the glottal stop) so that it can benefit from the assonance with iPAQ. In my mind are numerous "hacks" to make my hPAA more "gadget-like" (like constructing a cardboard wallet with pockets for Post-it flags and a pen), but I guess I'll try to keep it simple for now and use a binding clip in the meantime.

I must remind myself that I am construcing a hPAA not to play around with it, but to use it as a tool.

Anyway, I'm intrigued by this and I will give an update as to how it works. I can't wait to make one tomorrow!

Friday, February 10, 2006

Fleeting Precious Things and Forlorn Hopes

One of the really good things about a really good book or a really good movie is that they have the potential to last. A movie I enjoyed when I was young I can reasonably hope would also be enjoyed by my progeny, if a copy of that movie still exists. A book is even easier—as long as I, myself, have a copy of a book that means a lot to me, the possibility of sharing it to my children in the future is a joy to me.

Still, there are certain things which are so precious and yet so fleeting that one can almost despair that anybody else can share it with you. People have felt this when there is a particular play or cantata or musical which was magical, but with a magic that lasts only through the night and only imperfectly in one's memories. So many people, for instance, point to Christopher Plummer's performance as Cyrano de Bergerac as his best performance in his entire career. I wouldn't know. I didn't watch it; and I will always have the feeling of having been excluded from such a wonderful experience.

Nevertheless, cantatas can be performed again. Plays have scripts that can be published and enjoyed. Musicals that one hasn't ever watched can be remade as films (the way the Broadway musical of the Phantom of the Opera has been) and be enjoyed by new generations. So, even here there is potentially some hope that one can feel that one isn't alone in enjoying these treasures, no matter how different they are.

The same cannot be said of computer games. One of the things that my wife and I shared even as best friends were computer games. Before even a hint of romance between us, we were already close trading secrets and strategies of the games of WarCraft and MYST. As we became closer and closer to each other, there was Final Fantasy VII. WarCraft and MYST both have novels written for them and complete histories that will satisfy the cravings of knowledge; but this is not the same as actually "living" the games. Of course, there still is a WarCraft game out there, and several MYST sequels, but as memorable as these games are to me, to my wife and countless others, they will be forgotten by the next generation. Not because they aren't worth remembering but because there is no way for them to exist once the technologies they are based on becomes obsolete. I find this very sad.

It is even worse with Final Fantasy VII. This game was designed for a console that is no longer being manufactured, and the discs that I saved for and bought are no longer in good condition, even if I am able to preserve the PSOne console for my children. Even when I tried downloading a PC version of it, hoping to relive some of the joy and happiness of playing it, it has problems even working on Windows XP. It is sad, because the story of Final Fantasy VII is one of the best that I have ever lived through. "Lived" because, unlike even the best books, role-playing games such as these allow you to actually live out the characters, even if the story-line is linear. Someday, I can hope to have my kids read Pride and Prejudice when they are old enough, probably watch a DVD of the BBC version; I cannot hope for the same with Final Fantasy VII. True, there is one anime "prequel" and a movie "sequel" to the games, but none of these hold any meaning apart from the game. These movies mean something because we played the game.

Sometimes I wish somebody would write a novel concerning the game, but I realize now that that is a fool's hope. The printed word vs the audio-visual journey are very different things. Notwithstanding issues of canon, putting "the game" down into words will kill the game. How does one translate all the possible materia combinations, the different strategies for defeating the Weapons, the side quests or even Chocobo raising, training and racing into the written word without making it long, tedious, boring and irrelevant?

Prequels and sequels are okay, like they did for the MYST franchise, but even the creators realized that they shouldn't novelize the actual games itself. It shouldn't be done for Final Fantasy VII either.

So, sometimes I wish that Square-Enix had the resources to "re-publish" their "titles" for each succeeding generation, or at least find some way to preserve it so that it can still be enjoyed. I know I am not alone in hoping that Square-Enix would "remake" Final Fantasies I-VII, at least, one last time for the Playstation 3. I know that, unlike good books, good games cannot be republished ad infinitum; but it still is a wish. Then maybe, as all forlorn hopes are, there is a potential for the joy of being in connection still with the next generation, a connection with something that had meant a lot to us while we, too, had been young.

Friday, February 03, 2006

Some Quiz results—wala lang






As Dumbledore, you are talented, intelligent and powerful! You may prefer to be in a leadership position, and always uphold what is right. You set trends with your crazy beard.

Sunday, January 29, 2006

Pacelbel's Canon in D—Rock Guitar version

Man! This guy is amazing! Makes Canon in D totally rock! Wow!


English Vocabulary in the Philippines—A Private Peeve

Iknow, on an intellectual level, that English, like any language anywhere in the world, will evolve somehow depending on the local situation. Elizabethan English is different from modern English in that regard. It is with that acceptance that I hope that Tagalog can also evolve someday into something more useful and convenient for communication and instruction.

Still, I find that there are certain idiosyncrasies in the Pinoy dialect of English that I find very annoying. It is not to say that I don't approve of local modifications, because I do. Locally coined words (the word "Tambayan" for instance) enrich the vocabulary. But there are times when words are added to the vocabulary based on mistakes. Some of these mistakes are unintentional, but in others they are not only intentional but deliberate. Over the years I have come across a lot of these, but I will only mention two right now.


Iam quite sure the local meaning for the word "salvage" did not exist until at the very earliest the 70's. I am sure because I still remember when the word "salvage" was still used in its original meaning of either "to save" or "to redeem" when I was in early grade school. I still remember when teachers and visiting nuns would talk about salvaging an unruly student. Things, of course, changed because of People's Journal.

Well, People's Journal didn't use the word "salvage" to mean brutally murdered initially. But during the early to mid 80's brutal murders happened frequently enough that it made the news. These bodies were often disposed of in garbage dumps or in the river Pasig. So, whenever these bodies were recovered, the headlines will, of course, say "Dead man/woman/etc. was salvaged last night from Pasig/Smoky Mountain/etc."—"salvaged" here meaning that it was fished out and recovered by authorities. People say the same things when they "salvage" useable junk.

Now, it seems natural that Pinoys would make the association between the word "salvage" with "brutal murder". . . it is natural (even considering the fact that English teachers nationwide should have nipped this one at the bud). What annoys me most is that, by and large, Pinoys have forgotten how and why this happened and insists on silly explanations.

A few years back a major daily attempted to explain why we have a different meaning for "salvage." I read it with eagerness. At last, I said to myself, somebody can set it straight. Instead, I had several different implausible theories, the most plausible of which is that "salvage" is just our corruption of the word "savage." I can still remember the approximate wording of the explanation: "In America, when somebody wants to murder someone, they usually say 'Savage him!' and Pinoys [supposedly] merely added the 'l'." There are a number of problems with this explanation, the most obvious of which is that I have never heard of any American expression like that. Savage him indeed; "savage" means something else entirely in the USA, if I am not mistaken.

In the meantime, Pinoys continue to use the word with the local meaning. And we sound idiotic as a result. Nowhere else in the world does the phrase "salvage victim" mean victim of brutal murder. Even though Pinoys have since been briefed on its true meaning, we still use it. So what? some ask. How would we feel if some other culture used the word "iniibig kita" to mean "I want to rape you"? Normal word coinage (even gay lingo) does not bother me because I see that as legitimate word evolution. If we all gave private local meanings to foreign words, why even learn the words in the first place?


This other instance is a constant, almost weekly annoyance. For years, the proper term for somebody celebrating one's birthday was birthday celebrant, and it still is. However, in the last decade, Pinoys have decided that the proper term now is birthday celebrator, and every time I hear it mentioned, I gnash my teeth.

Of course, the word "celebrator" does exist in the English Language. It means "one who celebrates" so it should make sense that that is the right term, but it isn't. The celebrant is the person who is the reason for the celebration, and the celebrators are those who celebrate with that person. For instance, in a birthday party, there is the celebrant (celebrants in the case of multiple births or those with the same birthday) and the rest of those who actually sing "Happy Birthday to You" (and take the pictures, eat the food, the cake and the ice cream) are the celebrators—the people who celebrate with the celebrant.

Let me use another example which Pinoys, thankfully, never made any mistake on. In any school contest, those actually competing in the contest are called participants. Of course, those students who are not competing but should still "participate" in the school activity by watching the school contest are called participators. See? Makes sense here in this sense, why not in the sense of "celebration."

Yet almost nobody I met who has heard this explanation would rather still call the celebrant a celebrator instead. One person once remarked to me "Well, the TV personalities use it. So do reporters. So, it must be the right usage." This annoys me the most.


This is just two of many instances. But what connects all these instances is one very Pinoy trait which fuels all of this: the anong-paki-'mo attitude. I know that there are lots of exceptions in our country, but the usual impression I get when Pinoys justify errors, mistakes, cheating and any other objectionable or annoying stuff, they would also snap something like "mind your own business." Because of that, too many Pinoys would rather be mediocre than take the steps to "salvage" themselves in the eyes of many.

Saturday, January 21, 2006

My wife and I were having fun about a Naruto "love compatibility test" to see which Naruto character was our "true love." Katuwaan lang. But when Ærynn and I took our individual "tests" we ended up with the characters that were being paired together. All that on our first try. Wow. And she wasn't so hot about who she picked at first, because the guy was a chain smoking shinobi. Anyway, find out more about the Naruto series and these characters here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Naruto_manga and http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Characters_of_Naruto.

Anyway, here are our results:

NarutoFever.com Naruto Love Compatibility Test
Sarutobi Asuma

Compulsive smoker, jounin from the Leaf, youe one true love : Sarutobi Asuma

Rivals :
- Yuuhi Kurenai. Then again, it might just be a rumour that Kakashi is spreading so go get him!

NarutoFever.com Love Compatibility Test
Yuuhi Kurenai

Rookie Jounin, genjutsu user, your one true love : Yuuhi Kurenai

Rivals :
- Sarutobi Asuma. Then again, it might just be a rumour that Kakashi is spreading so go get her!


The Naruto anime series have recently jumped the shark, mainly because it is no longer following the manga it was based on initially but consists, instead, of a season of "filler" episodes until it can catch up with the manga. I don't know why I'm still watching it. I guess I'm hoping it gets better once it starts following the manga again.

Wednesday, January 11, 2006

I will always hate loud music

Ihave very distinct musical tastes. For the longest time, I have appreciated Baroque and Classical Music, a smattering of some old "classics" from the early to mid-2oth century, some 70's music, and the music they used to play in the early Sesame Street. I also have been listening to Enya for quite some time now. I know I am not a music connoisseur, but I am definitely a music afficionado and I can hear, in my mind's ear, the music I so love. People have called me names ranging from freak to anti-social for my musical preferences, the tamest (I think) was that I was accused of being boring. I didn't mind... I enjoyed my music.

Now, a few years ago, I was introduced to several sources of unwanted loud noise/music of which I had no control or choice over. The first source are the blaring music of public transportation vehicles. The second source are the blaring boom boxes and "mobiles" of peers. The third, and most damaging (later, I will explain why) was when I had a stint teaching high-school kids. The thing with the first two sources was that they either don't last very long (the former) or that I can choose to stop my ears or leave the place (the latter), and so later, when I returned home, I can listen again to my "boring" music and hear what I remember hearing.

But those nasty, inconsiderate kids whom I tried to teach would not let up with their noise. I frequently had to raise my voice just to be heard because, in keeping with the current trend of unruly students of "heroically" defying their teachers, they did their best to maintain conversations and not keep quiet. No threats scared them—they know I can get fired for corporal punishment (funny how I can suddenly wish for something I used to be bitterly against when confronted with a bunch of idiots who deserved it) and they didn't care if they got minuses from their grades (they had their parents who can fight for the "unfairness" of grading their kids' "intelligence" based on how talkative they are; they can even convince the principal that talkativeness is merely their way of showing smarts).

At any rate, they were noisy enough to keep my ears ringing long after I got home. But, what choice have I got? I needed to keep not only my eyes but ears peeled when it came to students. What kind of teacher would I be if I didn't pay attention to them?

During that time, the only "music" I got to hear were Back Street Boys and those other loud whatchamacallits that are only worth listening to because they were currently "in" at the time. But one Christmas, I tried listening to a bit of Ray Conniff to ease my nerves. Imagine my shock when the only voices I heard clearly were the men.

So I frantically dug up my Enya CDs and other classical/baroque music and listened to them, and I fairly panicked when they all sounded different from when I remembered. I can no longer hear the lilting high notes in Enya, or enjoy the flutes of Mozart (I can't hear them), or the loveliness of Handel's Messiah. I tried to convince myself that my speakers were busted... yeah! Those speakers were ancient. I bought a brand new pair—still the same result. I borrowed high-quality ear-phones—nada! I had to accept the fact that my hearing was now impaired.

The reason why I am remembering all this now is that, two years after I resigned from that hazardous job, and listening only to real music at their proper volumes, I realized that I can enjoy Enya again. I can, once again, hear those lilting high notes in her songs, and I can enjoy the interweaving melodies of a cappella recordings again. But, it still isn't the same as it was before: I have regained some of my hearing, but not all of it.


Idespise all those people who think that all their loud music is "the way to go" (including kids who think that ears ringing is "cool") and scorn the sort of music I like. For the longest time, I cannot defend my preference, since they themselves cannot see anything "special" about my music. For years, I knew why—their music is damaging their hearing and their ability to appreciate real music; but I didn't have any proof beyond my assertions.

The day has finally arrived. People are now finally accepting that loud music is bad. Here is just a smattering of the links I found that supports my view, including one hypocritical account of a drummer of a band claiming that his hearing loss is not due to the loud music he plays but rather because he used studio headphones.
In the meantime, I will enjoy my Baroque music, thank you very much, while I try to train myself (in the spirit of Christian charity) not to gloat in the next few decades when those who are fans of loud boy band music and gangsta "rap" will find that they cannot even hear the music that destroyed their ears... while I admire the nuances of different versions of the same Baroque or Rennaisance song.

Wednesday, January 04, 2006

A Most Engaging Paradox

I am currently having difficulty typing right now. My arm had, until yesterday, been in a sling after being injured during a mugging I was involved in. The mugging itself (last December 29th, early evening) should have been humiliating, since I am a martial artist and I am used to taking care of myself. But, as they say, even Napoleon tasted defeat, and the best Olympic athletes do not always maintain their "gold streak"—so, I don't feel as bad as maybe I should. I am glad that the injury I sustained when I fell of the moving vehicle was as light as it is. I am, in fact, happy to still be alive and missing only my cellphone, while others less fortunate had arrived in the same ER that I was brought to either dead or permanently maimed.

But I must admit, I was severely disappointed that day. Not because of the muggers—that was their "job"—but by the passers-by. I had been used to assuming that Pinoys are, generally speaking, nice people that still possess the "bayanihan" spirit and will readily help any other Pinoy in need. When I hit the pavement face first at cruising speed, that was what I expected. When women and children started surrounding me, I expected them to help me. Instead, they proceeded to rob me. I was conscious but stunned, and now even more stunned when they took the bag of CDs I had (containing the wedding pictures of a friend and not pirated movies, as the perps obviously expected) and attempted to take my watch off. My brother, who jumped out of the speeding vehicle, put a stop to that, and they all melted away into the crowd, leaving me and my brother behind in the middle of the road. I am quite sure that the vast majority of Pinoys probably have more Bayanihan and Christmas spirit, but we met none of them there.

Thanks to the mugger's ingenuity, he tried to "PasaLoad" the money loaded in my cellphone to his cellphone; thanks to my ingenuity, anytime he tries to send SMS, my cellphone would automatically send it to my wife. He sent his cellphone number to my wife. And, so there I was, injured and in pain, but smug with the knowledge that once the police gets a hold of his cellphone number, they can track him down using SMART's Person Finder[1][2] or, if they are too low-tech, they can at least find a way to use it. I mean, after the glowing reports they show on TV, right?

My faith in Pinoy law enforcement was over-rated. When we went to report it to the police, they were bewildered over what they had to do. Even the mug-shots they showed me didn't help. They, at first, didn't understand how I got the mugger's cellphone number and, when they finally did a half-hour later, they didn't know what to do. Their best solution is to wait until they catch a mugger in the act and, if he's the same guy, then... then... even I don't know what they plan to do next. From overwhelming optimism that I would be able to get my cellphone back soon to knowing full well that, once again, crime is made to pay yet again because of the mediocrity of Pinoy law enforcement (I shouldn't be surprised, since Chavit Singson is still not in prison).


Why is this, then, a paradox? My wife and I have been discussing things. We both admit that government and law enforcement in Australia is so much better than here in the Philippines. We both admit that it is safer for people in Melbourne than in Metro Manila. And yet both of us are adamant about raising our children in the Philippines rather than in Australia. Why? Shouldn't a better, more civilized society be a better environment to raise children? Why is it that, after admitting that we (my wife and I) stand a better chance of thriving in Australia than here in the Philippines, would still regard the Philippines as the best place to raise a family (that is, as long as the financial aspects are dealth with). And, for the longest time, neither of us can think of an answer.

It was all so obvious, of course. A better society doesn't necessarily mean better people. Ærynn, who used to want to raise kids in Oz, now sees that kids raised there are not better people, and are only brought under control later as adults by a better government and law enforcement. When I discussed this with an American friend of mine, who himself thinks that raising kids in the Philippines is better than doing so back in the USA, we both admitted that for all their vaunted government and law enforcement, "Western" people are sissies. All one has to do is watch them in other cultures and see how they cope—very badly (with the rare exception of some missionaries, who are more at home with indeginous cultures anyway than with western culture). In the end, we realized that even if the Philippines is not as well governed and guarded, and is a state of virtual anarchy, it is that anarchy that allows more freedom to raise better as well as worse individuals.

Child discipline, for example, is better implemented (and better abused, I admit) here. Whereas in most "Western" societies, one is carefully monitored. This, of course, prevents a lot of abuses that are readily apparent in the Philippines; however it also handicaps otherwise good parents from raising their children better. Everybody is made equal.

This is, of course, over-simplifying things, since "Western" countries are not one monolithic bloc. America is different from Australia, after all. In America and Australia, there are sectors of society that does allow the best of Pinoy upbriging. Yet, generally, not so.

One other thing is the relative attitudes towards religion and faith. While in "Western" countries, religion and faith are seen as "options," religion and faith right here are (inspite of the double standard and the justifying use of the Roman Catholic confessional) essential. Raising our kids to be God-fearing individuals is just more convenient here in the Philippines than anywhere else. This, even though a lot of Pinoys have learned not to fear God because of they penance they can do anyway (the real secret behind why organized crime in the Philippines doesn't collapse on itself). Father confessors and the confessional are very important aspects of organized crime, after all. Yet all that is better than a society that denies the existence of God and prevents you from exercising your conscience. I don't look forward to having to explain to my kids that believing in God is not unscientific.

I have not yet explored the other reasons why we feel this way. Maybe Ærynn can give better insights from her point of view; after all, she's actually living in an Australian society. Please note, though, that this is just our intentions as it is now. We are still open to finding ways to raise our kids properly in Australia.


W hile surfing, I cam across a few sites that have helped shape and clarify my position. I am listing some (not all) of them down below. I will add to the list when I have the time.
  • http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1581344589/104-0688693-6767140?v=glance&n=283155
  • http://www.techcentralstation.com/111005B.html
  • http://www.leaderu.com/focus/intdesign.html
  • http://www.newyorkmag.com/nymetro/news/columns/imperialcity/14721/
  • http://www.oudaily.com/vnews/display.v/ART/2005/12/01/438e6ec1e7e2c