<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-295648597402631921</id><updated>2012-02-16T10:03:27.840-08:00</updated><category term='mp3 player birthday'/><category term='cynicism'/><category term='memes'/><category term='surveys'/><category term='1984'/><title type='text'>New World Disorder</title><subtitle type='html'>What you're reading is the creaks of a square cog in the machine posted in readable format. Don't worry, I'll get lubed sooner or later. But please, get those disgusting thoughts out of your head, you sicko.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nwdo.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/295648597402631921/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nwdo.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>laZardo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00776728309481124966</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>11</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-295648597402631921.post-5375628858711435265</id><published>2007-09-26T22:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-26T23:48:45.447-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What I Have To Put Up With</title><content type='html'>So I'm back at my receptionist drone job. Thankfully I've gotten a more lenient schedule than last time - or rather, a more coherent, solid schedule. That doesn't mean I'm free of stress though. Especially when it comes to the single worst part of my day - the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;commute.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First I have to take the notoriously crowded Metro and Light Rail Transit. Yes, they're two different companies running the lines in this city and they're &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;both&lt;/span&gt; losing money. But that's another rant. Anyway, there's the fact that they're not 100% reliable. If I'm really unlucky, sometimes I get delayed until I'm a record 45 minutes late for class. That was half the class I missed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_LPEhJ4br2pI/RvtHgyG2d6I/AAAAAAAAABU/2JkRqpsMW44/s1600-h/DSC00067.JPG"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_LPEhJ4br2pI/RvtHgyG2d6I/AAAAAAAAABU/2JkRqpsMW44/s320/DSC00067.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5114760430341224354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The waving guy in the center is a guard. Apparently I can't take pictures in LRT stations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Then there's the walk from the arts building to the Hotel Management building. It's about 4-5 blocks and the walk takes under 10 minutes if I'm brisk. These days I don't even bring my sling bag most of the time. It'd be nice if I wasn't walking through urban Manila streets...and they're definitely not known for their cleanliness unless I was in a gated subdivision. Some of the places I walk through don't even have sidewalks. At least Manila traffic isn't &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; fast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_LPEhJ4br2pI/RvtNEyG2d8I/AAAAAAAAABk/yVnYOsPzOGE/s1600-h/DSC00007.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_LPEhJ4br2pI/RvtNEyG2d8I/AAAAAAAAABk/yVnYOsPzOGE/s320/DSC00007.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5114766546374653890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The route to work goes over this very bridge. That's the Arts Building that's reflected in its murky waters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_LPEhJ4br2pI/RvtNFCG2d9I/AAAAAAAAABs/-t5ysGRIWo4/s1600-h/DSC00009.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_LPEhJ4br2pI/RvtNFCG2d9I/AAAAAAAAABs/-t5ysGRIWo4/s320/DSC00009.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5114766550669621202" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;No respect for the crosswalk! The Hotel Management building's in the background.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_LPEhJ4br2pI/RvtNFSG2d-I/AAAAAAAAAB0/wTT3-DoYCTk/s1600-h/DSC00010.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_LPEhJ4br2pI/RvtNFSG2d-I/AAAAAAAAAB0/wTT3-DoYCTk/s320/DSC00010.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5114766554964588514" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I walk in the path of these all the time. At least this one was stationary...you don't want to be near one that's just starting to move.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Now, I don't have a car I can use for this period of time, and perhaps I should be thankful because commuting to school and work in a car would actually take &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;longer&lt;/span&gt; than the train due to the traffic around the times I'd be doing so, and that's not counting the extra gas costs (and environmental damage, blah blah blah.) That doesn't mean I envy some of the people who can drive themselves to school in rides like these:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_LPEhJ4br2pI/RvtNFSG2d_I/AAAAAAAAAB8/GS-gxtl1Jns/s1600-h/DSC00011.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_LPEhJ4br2pI/RvtNFSG2d_I/AAAAAAAAAB8/GS-gxtl1Jns/s320/DSC00011.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5114766554964588530" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I've actually spotted fancier makes in front of the building. No super-exotics though, most of the kids who can afford college aren't &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; rich.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Then there's the commute home. I like to pass through a small mall attached to the Southbound side of the LRT station near college just to browse the latest video games. However the part of the mall that exits to the station has its own "smoker's alley." I've been told that the people here are slackers who are nearing their maximum residency periods in college.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_LPEhJ4br2pI/RvtP1yG2eAI/AAAAAAAAACE/M2LC2KProjA/s1600-h/DSC00015.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_LPEhJ4br2pI/RvtP1yG2eAI/AAAAAAAAACE/M2LC2KProjA/s320/DSC00015.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5114769587211499522" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You can't see the carbon-monoxide-laced death in the air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I once read somewhere that each cigarette takes off 7 minutes from my lifetime. I wonder if I'll even live to see the end of college after walking through all of this 3 days a week (5 days including days without work), 45 weeks of the year. I wouldn't be surprised if these smokers outlive me, and I'm younger than them!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still, that doesn't mean that whatever change I have left can't buy me a little something to ease the pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_LPEhJ4br2pI/RvtHhCG2d7I/AAAAAAAAABc/2hrt9WnK3gs/s1600-h/DSC00021.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_LPEhJ4br2pI/RvtHhCG2d7I/AAAAAAAAABc/2hrt9WnK3gs/s320/DSC00021.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5114760434636191666" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Slurpee. Does a body good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/295648597402631921-5375628858711435265?l=nwdo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nwdo.blogspot.com/feeds/5375628858711435265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=295648597402631921&amp;postID=5375628858711435265' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/295648597402631921/posts/default/5375628858711435265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/295648597402631921/posts/default/5375628858711435265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nwdo.blogspot.com/2007/09/what-i-have-to-put-up-with.html' title='What I Have To Put Up With'/><author><name>laZardo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00776728309481124966</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_LPEhJ4br2pI/RvtHgyG2d6I/AAAAAAAAABU/2JkRqpsMW44/s72-c/DSC00067.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-295648597402631921.post-5161432674381600794</id><published>2007-08-23T10:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-23T10:45:48.172-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Great Popularity Contest.</title><content type='html'>What is it about people being set on fire that always gets the news' attention more than a more than one person being blown up (regardless of cause?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Either way, I've stumbled on two disgustingly similar articles today, one a heartbreaker and the other very humorous (were it not for aforementioned heartbreaker.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first (CNN) is of a &lt;a href="http://www.cnn.com/2007/WORLD/meast/08/22/iraq.boy/index.html"&gt;5-year-old boy set on fire and horribly disfigured by insurgents in Iraq&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second (Reuters) is of a &lt;a href="http://www.reuters.com/article/newsOne/idUSL2259151320070822"&gt;Russian woman setting fire to her ex-husband's genitalia&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;both&lt;/span&gt; made the top of the "most popular" articles on their respective news agencies' sites has got to say something as negative about the sites they're on as much as it does about the people involved. Much more for the first than the second.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_LPEhJ4br2pI/Rs3HbfaVCQI/AAAAAAAAAA8/vIMDMh-omcc/s1600-h/1185435720040.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_LPEhJ4br2pI/Rs3HbfaVCQI/AAAAAAAAAA8/vIMDMh-omcc/s320/1185435720040.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5101953227982964994" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And that's why we can't have nice things.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/295648597402631921-5161432674381600794?l=nwdo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nwdo.blogspot.com/feeds/5161432674381600794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=295648597402631921&amp;postID=5161432674381600794' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/295648597402631921/posts/default/5161432674381600794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/295648597402631921/posts/default/5161432674381600794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nwdo.blogspot.com/2007/08/great-popularity-contest.html' title='The Great Popularity Contest.'/><author><name>laZardo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00776728309481124966</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LPEhJ4br2pI/Rs3HbfaVCQI/AAAAAAAAAA8/vIMDMh-omcc/s72-c/1185435720040.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-295648597402631921.post-6852215058988613698</id><published>2007-08-15T23:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T06:37:29.158-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I've got ADS.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_LPEhJ4br2pI/RsPz4vaVCPI/AAAAAAAAAA0/CA9ooSNkEt4/s1600-h/1186047310831.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_LPEhJ4br2pI/RsPz4vaVCPI/AAAAAAAAAA0/CA9ooSNkEt4/s320/1186047310831.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5099187359238654194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Not this, dumbshit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;So if you look to the right of this page, you'll see some Google AdSense ads. Yes, I chose to put them up there because I need the money. But I technically cannot ask or encourage you, the few who bother to read this, to click it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhoo, this afternoon I had nothing to do (school got rained out again!) so I decided to tag along with my bros to the Ayala Museum downtown. Will post some pics once the PSP's done recharging.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/295648597402631921-6852215058988613698?l=nwdo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nwdo.blogspot.com/feeds/6852215058988613698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=295648597402631921&amp;postID=6852215058988613698' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/295648597402631921/posts/default/6852215058988613698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/295648597402631921/posts/default/6852215058988613698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nwdo.blogspot.com/2007/08/ive-got-ads.html' title='I&apos;ve got ADS.'/><author><name>laZardo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00776728309481124966</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_LPEhJ4br2pI/RsPz4vaVCPI/AAAAAAAAAA0/CA9ooSNkEt4/s72-c/1186047310831.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-295648597402631921.post-5292735744666840524</id><published>2007-08-10T21:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-10T22:32:35.242-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Humans are filthy creatures.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_LPEhJ4br2pI/Rr1CT2tEpwI/AAAAAAAAAAs/wNfwX-IJfYk/s1600-h/1186583494494.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_LPEhJ4br2pI/Rr1CT2tEpwI/AAAAAAAAAAs/wNfwX-IJfYk/s320/1186583494494.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5097303262122780418" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;This pretty much sums it up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;So last night I was finishing up my last lab shift for the week and I like to do my extra bit by picking up the usual array of litter that these lazy bastards in "Hotel and Restaurant Institution Management" tend to leave around. One of the more common items are Mentos wrappers, as well as tissue paper. It's enrollment week so people left their notepads where they jot down their optimum schedules. Since Wednesday and Thursday got rained out, the enrollment period is extended until next Wednesday, and I'll have a shift on Monday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week however was extra frustrating as Friday's free-slotters were extra dirty. If I hadn't forgotten my camera I would've taken a picture of the haul, which could fit inside a medium-sized Tupperware tray. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;WHICH I ALSO FOUND.&lt;/span&gt; At least the outside of the tray was clean so I could pile all the stuff in it (the inside had some residue of some unidentifiable white stuff that looked to have been spatula-ed or spooned out). I also managed to find a broken click-pen that could still write.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least I can sleep in pretty much all of today...and I managed to download this free MMO called &lt;a href="http://clubaudition.e-games.com.ph/"&gt;Audition Online&lt;/a&gt; which has these really catchy hip-hop tunes...though I'm really more fond of that power ballad. It's very Bust-A-Groove though there is a DDR-style thing called "BeatUp!" mode if you're lucky to find that room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man...the life of a reptile gets pretty dull.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hotel and Restaurant Institution Management my tail.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/295648597402631921-5292735744666840524?l=nwdo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nwdo.blogspot.com/feeds/5292735744666840524/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=295648597402631921&amp;postID=5292735744666840524' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/295648597402631921/posts/default/5292735744666840524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/295648597402631921/posts/default/5292735744666840524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nwdo.blogspot.com/2007/08/humans-are-filthy-creatures.html' title='Humans are filthy creatures.'/><author><name>laZardo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00776728309481124966</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_LPEhJ4br2pI/Rr1CT2tEpwI/AAAAAAAAAAs/wNfwX-IJfYk/s72-c/1186583494494.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-295648597402631921.post-6527372908974742463</id><published>2007-08-05T08:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-05T09:04:16.724-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fruit Punch Blood</title><content type='html'>Putting all preconceived racial notions aside, that's a rather interesting way to think of what my (metaphorical) blood would be if nations could be assigned different "flavors." I'm not going to assign each nation a specific flavor, but you might get the idea of what I'm talking about at the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom once told me that somewhere high up my line is a Portuguese friar. Now, the friars in this country probably sired entire cities (if not towns) full of their offspring during the colonial period, but &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Portuguese?&lt;/span&gt; Then again, if Magellan was a Portuguese who could sail for Spain...than... nah. That's too fucked up to consider.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So speaking of my mom, she's given a mention for being descended from one of the branches of the Montemayor clan (at least from a book detailing the clan's history) though her born surname is &lt;a href="http://www.houseofnames.com/fc.asp?sId=&amp;s=Buendia&amp;amp;text2.x=0&amp;text2.y=0"&gt;Buendia,&lt;/a&gt; essentially making her descended from lots of Spanish/&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;mestizo&lt;/span&gt; influence. Fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the contrary, my dad's family side appears to be &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;indio,&lt;/span&gt; which would be "normal" had his ancestry not included some rather notable figures of the Philippine Revolution such as Gregoria De Jesus (who married Andres Bonifacio but later ended up married to), Julio Nakpil and Maximo Viola, the Freemason reputed to have published &lt;a href="http://www.joserizal.ph/no01.html"&gt;Jose Rizal's famous &lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.joserizal.ph/no01.html"&gt;Noli Me Tangere&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So not only do we have Spanish and Filipino Revolutionary heritage clashing in Spanish, Portuguese, indigenous Filipino, Chinese and maybe some Italian blood (Viola sounds pretty Italian to me), but it's all giftwrapped in American citizenship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hence, Fruit Punch Blood. With extra saccharine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_LPEhJ4br2pI/RrXzemtEpvI/AAAAAAAAAAk/xF05DNxjKlo/s1600-h/1185115882762.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_LPEhJ4br2pI/RrXzemtEpvI/AAAAAAAAAAk/xF05DNxjKlo/s320/1185115882762.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095246260550805234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Imagine that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/295648597402631921-6527372908974742463?l=nwdo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nwdo.blogspot.com/feeds/6527372908974742463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=295648597402631921&amp;postID=6527372908974742463' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/295648597402631921/posts/default/6527372908974742463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/295648597402631921/posts/default/6527372908974742463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nwdo.blogspot.com/2007/08/fruit-punch-blood.html' title='Fruit Punch Blood'/><author><name>laZardo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00776728309481124966</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_LPEhJ4br2pI/RrXzemtEpvI/AAAAAAAAAAk/xF05DNxjKlo/s72-c/1185115882762.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-295648597402631921.post-3932366268723683636</id><published>2007-07-26T03:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-26T04:15:43.046-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dante's Inferno Over A Cheap Burger At Seven</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_LPEhJ4br2pI/Rqh5tmtEpuI/AAAAAAAAAAc/MVJfWrWz5YI/s1600-h/1185436660642.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_LPEhJ4br2pI/Rqh5tmtEpuI/AAAAAAAAAAc/MVJfWrWz5YI/s320/1185436660642.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5091453203133015778" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Life. Or what I would look like in a suit. I look good in suits.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I often like to stare at my wrists, particularly around the joints area where the arm meets the bottom of my hands. Always notice how they're pretty damn thin...almost as if I could snap my hands off if I wanted to. My weight is about the same as my IQ, and I'm pretty damn light. 1-3-5, 1-3-5, every time I get on the scale it's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;never&lt;/span&gt; been less than that for the past few years. Hell, that was the weight on my State ID card back in 2004, so at least I've got reference for that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of an identity crisis, I lost my Student Assistant's ID earlier this week. Thankfully those things are dirt cheap (P30? Not even 10% of my main Student ID) though I was worried that I'd get fired for it. Or at least get my shift (they call it "duty") scrapped meaning I work 4 hours for free. Fuck if it takes me an entire hour to earn how much that thing costs anyway. The things I drop on the train. And then my dad wants to pretty much strap everything dropable to my clothing as if I have to have everything on a leash. No wait...that was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;before&lt;/span&gt; that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and they set up the web filter again in my internet, which pretty much eliminates a good portion of my usual surfing material but thankfully does not include my RP forums, my DA archive and of course, this outlet for my steam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lab's closing in 20 minutes and there's this guy on Station 32 that I suspect is pissed because I switched his ID out for someone else's because someone upstairs didn't replace a lost tag. I shan't bother to ask the rest of the story, because personally I don't give a damn anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny, ever since my little birthday visit to school I'm a lot calmer. Things worry me but don't actually stick. I've actually gotten over that whole ID thing at least until that damn lab head tells me how and where to pay for it. Seriously, I text her but she doesn't respond until late at night or early in the morning on the next day. That and there are &lt;a href="http://groups.yahoo.com/search?query=actc_sa"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;two&lt;/span&gt; Student Assistant websites&lt;/a&gt; (i.e. Yahoo Groups) and the company schedule directed me to &lt;a href="http://groups.yahoo.com/group/actc_sa/"&gt;the wrong one&lt;/a&gt; even though the up-to-date schedules are posted there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Been hanging with my MP3 player for a while. Speaking of which, I actually lost my ID on the day I got it. Must've dropped it on the train. It's jamming to  Fabolous right now while my PSP simmers from getting filled with demos after I moved out all my MP3s to the new player. I love speaker mode. Didn't realize my PSP was screen-on for 4 hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v340/Forelli_Boy/YPK5/DSC00022.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v340/Forelli_Boy/YPK5/DSC00022.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Better'n an iPod nano, and a firmware upgrade effectively saves me money I'd use on a charger-player dock. &lt;a href="http://gap.us.playstation.com"&gt;GAP&lt;/a&gt; card added for size reference and ego bloating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;The guy at Station 32's gone. Good for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time to close up. I have to but I'm already staying late to write this, because &lt;a href="http://www.qj.net/Physicists-say-that-destiny-may-be-scientific-after-all/pg/49/aid/98340"&gt;science apparently says it's supposed to happen.&lt;/a&gt; Not that it sucks as much as the lab head not counting in the extra minutes I spend to close up this place after 7.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bitch.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/295648597402631921-3932366268723683636?l=nwdo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nwdo.blogspot.com/feeds/3932366268723683636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=295648597402631921&amp;postID=3932366268723683636' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/295648597402631921/posts/default/3932366268723683636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/295648597402631921/posts/default/3932366268723683636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nwdo.blogspot.com/2007/07/dantes-inferno-over-cheap-burger-at.html' title='Dante&apos;s Inferno Over A Cheap Burger At Seven'/><author><name>laZardo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00776728309481124966</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_LPEhJ4br2pI/Rqh5tmtEpuI/AAAAAAAAAAc/MVJfWrWz5YI/s72-c/1185436660642.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-295648597402631921.post-732292671486727386</id><published>2007-07-21T09:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-21T09:48:06.889-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='surveys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='memes'/><title type='text'>Hi, I'm a...</title><content type='html'>&lt;table align="center" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="350"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bg="" style="color: rgb(238, 238, 238);" align="center"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;b&gt;You are a "Neko" (cat)&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#ffffff"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.blogthings.com/whatjapanesesmileyareyouquiz/neko.gif" height="100" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatjapanesesmileyareyouquiz/"&gt;What Japanese Smiley Are You?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;...Oh God. So many people are using Japanese emoticons that it's just stupid.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="350"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bg="" style="color: rgb(221, 221, 221);" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;b&gt;You Are a Smart American&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#eeeeee"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.blogthings.com/areyouadumbamericanquiz/american-4.jpg" height="100" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know a lot about US history, and you're opinions are probably well informed.&lt;br /&gt;Congratulations on bucking stereotypes. Now go show some foreigners how smart Americans can be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/areyouadumbamericanquiz/"&gt;Are You a Dumb American?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;That's more like it. Of course, if I'm smart, then I must &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; be American, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="350"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bg="" style="color: rgb(248, 139, 139);" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;b&gt;You Are 54% American&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#a7ceff"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.blogthings.com/howamericanareyouquiz/american3.jpg" height="100" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most times you are proud to be an American.&lt;br /&gt;Though sometimes the good ole US of A makes you cringe&lt;br /&gt;Still, you know there's no place better suited to be your home.&lt;br /&gt;You love your freedom and no one's going to take it away from you!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/howamericanareyouquiz/"&gt;How American Are You?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorta. So if I'm only that much American...then my IQ must be pretty middling. Let's take a quick test (read another Cheap Blog Survey) and find out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="350"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bg="" style="color: rgb(238, 233, 233);" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;b&gt;Your SAT Score of 1330 Means:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#fffafa"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.blogthings.com/whatdoesyoursatscoremeanquiz/sat.jpg" height="100" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You Scored Higher Than Howard Stern&lt;br /&gt;You Scored Higher Than George W. Bush&lt;br /&gt;You Scored Lower Than Al Gore&lt;br /&gt;You Scored Lower Than David Duchovny&lt;br /&gt;You Scored Lower Than Natalie Portman&lt;br /&gt;You Scored Lower Than Bill Gates&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your IQ is most likely in the 130-140 range&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Equivalent ACT score: 30&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Schools that Fit Your SAT Score:&lt;br /&gt;College of William and Mary&lt;br /&gt;New York University&lt;br /&gt;Boston College&lt;br /&gt;United States Naval Academy&lt;br /&gt;University of California, Berkeley*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatdoesyoursatscoremeanquiz/"&gt;What Does Your SAT Score Mean?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;*The fuck if I'm ever gonna study in Commie Central.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But dumber than the man who invented the Internet AND the chick who got her head shaved on V for Vendetta? Way to make me feel better (and ashamed for me being American.) At least I'm not a-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;table align="center" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="350"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bg="" style="color: rgb(248, 139, 139);" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;b&gt;You Are a Conservative Democrat&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#a7ceff"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.blogthings.com/whatsyourpoliticalpersuasionquiz/conservative-dem.jpg" height="100" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frankly, the way most other Democrats behave embarasses you greatly.&lt;br /&gt;You pride yourself on a high level of morals, and you have a good grasp on right and wrong.&lt;br /&gt;It's likely you think America needs to get back to its conservative, Juedo-Christian values.&lt;br /&gt;Why aren't you a Republican then? Because you believe the goverment helps more than hurts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatsyourpoliticalpersuasionquiz/"&gt;What's Your Political Persuasion?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ooooookay. Lots of mindfucking even for this near-genius. Still, the only way I'd walk that road is if I'd strayed off...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;table align="center" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="350"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bg="" style="color: rgb(221, 221, 221);" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;b&gt;Your 2005 Song Is&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#eeeeee"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.blogthings.com/whathitsongof2005areyouquiz/broken-dreams.jpg" height="100" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://click.linksynergy.com/fs-bin/click?id=CkIfgYlVpZA&amp;offerid=99176.467947965&amp;amp;type=10&amp;subid="&gt;Boulevard of Broken Dreams&lt;/a&gt; by Green Day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"My shadow's the only one that walks beside me&lt;br /&gt;My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In 2005, you bummed everyone out. Like you care.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whathitsongof2005areyouquiz/"&gt;What Hit Song of 2005 Are You?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm surprised that this didn't become an emo anthem...though the amount of despair I seem to experience easily puts me into that category. So...let's put this to rest. After all these strange anomalies (and the fact that I've put so many CBSes in one post), am I really just one of the crowd?&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="350"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bg="" style="color: rgb(221, 221, 221);" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;b&gt;Your Personality is Somewhat Rare (ISTP)&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#eeeeee"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.blogthings.com/howrareisyourpersonalityquiz/personality.jpg" height="100" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your personality type is reserved, methodical, spirited, and intense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only about 6% of all people have your personality, including 3% of all women and 8% of all men&lt;br /&gt;You are Introverted, Sensing, Thinking, and Perceiving.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/howrareisyourpersonalityquiz/"&gt;How Rare Is Your Personality?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looks like there's room for a square cog after all. And for that...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table width="350" align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2"&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bg align="center" style="color:#DDDDDD;"&gt;&lt;span style="'color:black;font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;You Are Pretty Happy&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EEEEEE"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.blogthings.com/howhappyareyoureallyquiz/happy-2.jpg" height="100" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You generally have a happy, fulfilling life.&lt;br /&gt;But things could be a little better, and deep down, you know it.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe you need more supportive friends or a more challenging career.&lt;br /&gt;Something is preventing you from being totally happy. You just need to figure out what it is!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/howhappyareyoureallyquiz/"&gt;How Happy Are You, Really?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/295648597402631921-732292671486727386?l=nwdo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nwdo.blogspot.com/feeds/732292671486727386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=295648597402631921&amp;postID=732292671486727386' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/295648597402631921/posts/default/732292671486727386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/295648597402631921/posts/default/732292671486727386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nwdo.blogspot.com/2007/07/hi-im.html' title='Hi, I&apos;m a...'/><author><name>laZardo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00776728309481124966</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-295648597402631921.post-8390394537088871548</id><published>2007-07-19T23:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-20T01:51:00.881-07:00</updated><title type='text'>SOMETHING died.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;None of this stuff is made up, though I really don't want it to sound so preachy. It's shit like I call a lot of things, but not &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;bull&lt;/span&gt;shit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I lied to my mother that I was going to &lt;a href="http://www.dls-csb.edu.ph/"&gt;my college&lt;/a&gt; early to pick up some papers I need to get the scholarship letter sent in. In fact I actually ended up going to my old school campus. I could feel myself shaking a bit in the taxi, but apart from that I didn't seem to show any fear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I gave my ID and the guards let me in after the standard "purpose" procedure. They even asked if they could pass my ID on to the gate on the other side so I could exit out there later on. Fine by me. I went in and strolled through the parking lot to the High School section, and looked at the plazas as I went in. Then I went upstairs, and there was a little plastic plaque-ad-thingy that displayed the school's mission statement (and all its irony) next to what appeared to be a very badly-composed painting of three kids, one of them pointing and laughing at the viewer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I went to the cafeteria, kinda my "Ground Zero" of sorts. Unfortunately, it was under renovation so I couldn't go all the way in. Turned around and made my way to the guidance office. It turns out my &lt;a href="http://www.ismanila.org/portal/alias__/lang__en/tabID__331/DesktopDefault.aspx"&gt;old guidance counselor&lt;/a&gt; was still around, and the walls of her room were still plastered with the memoirs of students past.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wrote an apology note to her. I think there was an IT guy from long ago still there too, but he didn't seem to recognize me. Finally, I found the yearbook of the year I got kicked out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Disturbingly enough, my yearbook photo there, in its respective square in its respective alphabetical place on the grid among the Juniors. God damn I had so much hair back then. But I had to know. So I turned the pages again toward the graduating seniors section (you know, the one with all the dedications etc), and sure enough I found the entry for the guy who beat me up. There was a strange twist though that hit me after I sobbed a bit:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Save for his yearbook photo and e-mail address (which I presume were also taken in January), his page was completely &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;BLANK.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Seriously. There were no "wishes for friends," and no "baby photo" as there was on other pages. There was his nickname in faded grey under his actual name...but that was it. 3/4 a page of white space.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took me a while to figure out exactly why. If he &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;did&lt;/span&gt; graduate with honor(s?) then he'd have the usual page with dedications etc. But pretty much every page had SOMETHING. I think they also all had baby photos. If he had been suspended or placed in detention, I'd assume that he'd still graduated anyway. Finally, there was still the possibility that he'd been held back a year...but that wouldn't happen under the punishments for an incident like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After I left I visited the old library, which was still open. The book scanners still click three times as I walk through. Found the old &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;741.5 &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;sections...still remember that old Dewey number from where I'd always go to find the comics. The old &lt;a href="http://tintin.francetv.fr/uk/"&gt;Tintin adventures&lt;/a&gt; didn't seem to be around though as well as most of the &lt;a href="http://www.simplych.com/"&gt;Calvin &amp;amp; Hobbes&lt;/a&gt; (shame.), but there were still lots of &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peanuts"&gt;Peanuts&lt;/a&gt; and hardbound (wth?) manga in the High School section. They actually had a graphic novel version of the Hobbit though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it's kinda funny, really. It took me 4 years of dead ends to finally work up the courage to go figure out that justice - in some strange way - had indeed been served. And yet I wasn't outwardly jubilant, nor did I actually break down (see earlier sobbing) as intensely as I thought it would be. I was actually pretty calm as I'd been for the past few days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The library was darkened because only the counter staff were working to catalogue things, but there's this huge window that makes up one side of the place so the sun was just pouring in through the clouds. On my way out I went to one of the railings at the south perimeter of the building so I could see some planes land. Damn, I missed that view. Finally I went to one of those plaza gardens and sat on one of the benches for a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guards at the other gate let me out without a hitch, and I didn't look back. I might have gotten a bit of the building into view as I looked up the road for a passing taxi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's disappointing that I couldn't get my camera the night before (went to Greenhills AFTER, so I got it then), so I don't have any pictures here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not going through some Scrooge-post-ghost revelation right now. Hell, I probably won't become a social magnet by the time I (eventually) leave the country. I just feel a lot clearer, that's all. And yes, I'm still alive, though I'll definitely need rest as I'm still working to 7 today, lawl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kept imagining that Jay-R billboard telling me "You da man!" though.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/295648597402631921-8390394537088871548?l=nwdo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nwdo.blogspot.com/feeds/8390394537088871548/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=295648597402631921&amp;postID=8390394537088871548' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/295648597402631921/posts/default/8390394537088871548'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/295648597402631921/posts/default/8390394537088871548'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nwdo.blogspot.com/2007/07/something-died.html' title='SOMETHING died.'/><author><name>laZardo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00776728309481124966</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-295648597402631921.post-3177778747220092070</id><published>2007-07-19T01:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-19T03:52:10.938-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Big 2-0</title><content type='html'>Holy fucking shit. I'm almost legal enough to buy alcohol in the United States, and six months from petitioning my mother to become a permanent resident there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though technically I don't turn 20 until 6:04 pm PST...which equates to 9:04 in the fucking morning on the 20th here. Numerology's so fun. Anyhoos, I'm gonna take the extra time off from work (doesn't start till 1 on Fridays) to go check out some malls as they open. And/or visit my old alma mater. Seriously, if they banned me from entering they'd tell me. Besides which, 4 years is a bit long (for &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;them&lt;/span&gt;, not me) to hold a grudge, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which brings me to something quite serious that I've been thinking of doing. Actually...I've been thinking of doing that for a very long time. Ever since I knew what that concept was. No, it's not sex. But the lack of it has helped me become more confident that I'll do that thing. And these days, every time I think of it I'm a lot less afraid. More like resigned. For one, there's the fact that I really don't have to say goodbye. And regardless of where I'm going after I die or if I'm reincarnated or if I just go "poof"  I really don't have to worry about the suffering/benefits I'd bring upon my relatives etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I recently purchased Dante's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Inferno&lt;/span&gt;. To help pass some time. That and for some crazy reason I now think it's a "real estate brochure." That's fucked up. Of course, becoming a tree pecked at by bird-people seems a lot less relatively painful than being frozen in ice or submerged up to thine lashes in boiling blood. Which reminds me that if I do end up in Hell, then &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;other&lt;/span&gt; people's suffering would most certainly be the &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;LEAST&lt;/span&gt; of my worries. It'd definitely save my family a lot of expense of the Church not allowing a funeral.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm 20 for crying out loud, and I'm pretty much where I've been for the last 10 years. I would have made something of myself even after the asylum shift, but I was forced to move back here, essentially making 1 1/2 years of trying to live a new life all for naught save for a few college transfer courses. I hate living here. I can't get over the language barrier and college transactions are a far cry from the simplicity they were in my old community college. 3 signatures from 2 different buildings and 121 pesos for something I could just get with a couple of free clicks online? Fuck no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I deserve that. Still, it's hard to swallow that I've only made it this far after 20 years. Still living in my parents with no way to financially sustain myself (would have had a way were I not forced back), placed right in the middle and just out of reach of scholarships, and just not good enough to achieve with the best. Pretty much all of the people I talk to on more than just a class-only basis (not counting relatives) are online and probably feeding off my private data as I speak.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And last weekend I learned that the &lt;a href="http://migzzubiri.org/"&gt;older brother of someone who picked on me&lt;/a&gt; back in school just got &lt;a href="http://newsinfo.inquirer.net/breakingnews/nation/view_article.php?article_id=76622"&gt;elected Senator&lt;/a&gt; of this great country. It really goes to show you whom fate favors in the end, afterlife fate or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wth. I'm probably going to wuss out. I really don't want to die in this country though. Of course...I'm feeling particuarly "resigned" (as I put it) that I'll probably be super-scared again later. Perhaps the fact that I'm actually focusing on living my daily routine "as is" is not only helping me stay "resigned," but also that&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhoos, later on after my shift's done I'm going to head out to the mall and see if I can snatch me up a PSP camera and then treat myself to a real dinner for one than just the P99 Value Meal at Tropical Hut. Jesus, I can't even get a decent burger for P100? The most I got for P60 was cold &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;pancit.&lt;/span&gt; Tomorrow morning I'll probably take shitloads of pictures if I'm let into my old campus, and then head to work. Hopefully it'll be raining or at least cloudy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and I found my USB flash disk. Turns out that one of the tech people retrieved it but didn't turn it in to the lost and found. Nice.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/295648597402631921-3177778747220092070?l=nwdo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nwdo.blogspot.com/feeds/3177778747220092070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=295648597402631921&amp;postID=3177778747220092070' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/295648597402631921/posts/default/3177778747220092070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/295648597402631921/posts/default/3177778747220092070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nwdo.blogspot.com/2007/07/big-2-0.html' title='The Big 2-0'/><author><name>laZardo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00776728309481124966</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-295648597402631921.post-27378817309231934</id><published>2007-07-16T03:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-16T04:29:36.187-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mp3 player birthday'/><title type='text'>Lucky 13 and 15, Unlucky 14 and 16</title><content type='html'>So on Sunday morning I was angrily awakened by my cellphone ringing at 10 AM sharp. I had slept in my underwear the night before (read &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;3 AM&lt;/span&gt;) and had left the curtains &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;open&lt;/span&gt; to help me wake up later on. This despite the fact that the view was entirely dominated by the Opus Dei building right in front of me. Which left my face looking somewhat like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_LPEhJ4br2pI/RptF8HUJ6tI/AAAAAAAAAAM/pBroQz3T_oE/s1600-h/1184578607033.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_LPEhJ4br2pI/RptF8HUJ6tI/AAAAAAAAAAM/pBroQz3T_oE/s320/1184578607033.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087737103103158994" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;WTF?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Quick runthrough of the day before that though. A virus suddenly snuck through my aging Norton (getting 2008 when the sub runs out) and for some reason it kept popping up every time I restarted, even though it was "removed," and registry and full scans showed up clean. I think it's gone now, probably thanks to Disc Cleanup. Still not running a "full" startup until I can get rid of those blank entries though. Still, restarting it 20 times in one day was quite a pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and today, I figured I'd be early for once to class, arriving at the station at 8:10. However, they closed the security gates to clear up the passengers waiting (took 3 trains, could have let us in after 1!)  and I ended up a half-hour late for class. Seriously, I think there's a conspiracy, since getting through Manila traffic at that hour would take even longer than it did. But I really need to get behind the wheel of something. If there's one oxymoron I don't want to be it's a car designer that doesn't drive. What the fuck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'm digressing. What was so lucky about my other days?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For one, I actually got my PSP fixed via homebrew (long story, involves &lt;a href="http://boardsus.playstation.com/playstation/board/print?board.id=pspnet&amp;message.id=123862&amp;amp;page=1&amp;format=page"&gt;mismatching MAC Addresses&lt;/a&gt; and me having a way too high version of homebrew until &lt;a href="http://www.noobz.eu/joomla/news/downgrader-update--japanese-support.html"&gt;they released a special patch&lt;/a&gt;)  and it only cost me the price of an extra train trip, somewhere round 25 cents US. NICE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And on Sunday morning and after a dropped call due to bad signal, that phonecall('s second attempt) turned out to be from a 7-11 representative.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, I'd won a super-classy &lt;a href="http://www.samsung.com/ph/products/digitalaudio/mp3player/yp_k5abxtc.asp"&gt;Samsung MP3 player&lt;/a&gt; from a scratch card I got when I bought my usual large Slurpee for class. Finally, my PSP can take a rest until I get some new games for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_LPEhJ4br2pI/RptWhXUJ6uI/AAAAAAAAAAU/Xxig5c5jfMQ/s1600-h/1184584648118.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_LPEhJ4br2pI/RptWhXUJ6uI/AAAAAAAAAAU/Xxig5c5jfMQ/s320/1184584648118.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087755335239330530" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Mwa ha ha ha ha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;4-ish more days until my birthday. Technically speaking, I'd celebrate it here at 9 AM on the 20th. Which is perfectly fine given that I'll be out all day on the 19th but my Friday shift starts at 1 PM so I can go see what's happening out at my old high school in the morning. Hopefully. That's if they don't have some kind of restraining order out for me there from four years ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/295648597402631921-27378817309231934?l=nwdo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nwdo.blogspot.com/feeds/27378817309231934/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=295648597402631921&amp;postID=27378817309231934' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/295648597402631921/posts/default/27378817309231934'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/295648597402631921/posts/default/27378817309231934'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nwdo.blogspot.com/2007/07/lucky-13-and-15-unlucky-14-and-16.html' title='Lucky 13 and 15, Unlucky 14 and 16'/><author><name>laZardo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00776728309481124966</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_LPEhJ4br2pI/RptF8HUJ6tI/AAAAAAAAAAM/pBroQz3T_oE/s72-c/1184578607033.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-295648597402631921.post-4036272960241685461</id><published>2007-07-12T07:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-12T08:36:11.583-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='1984'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cynicism'/><title type='text'>Why, hello thar.</title><content type='html'>If you've come to this page expecting me to proclaime that &lt;strong&gt;I KNOW THE TRUTH!!!!1111zorz&lt;/strong&gt; and/or that there is such a thing as the "New World Order" &lt;strong&gt;AND I HAVE PROOF!!!1111&lt;/strong&gt; I'm asking you kindly and politely to GTFO. Seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Given this is my first entry, and that my birthday's in precisely a week, I'd like to tell you a little bit of what I've learned in my nigh-20 full years of existence...but first, a bit on where I'm from.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to have a LiveJournal, but that's gone now. I've got a &lt;a href="http://lazardo.deviantart.com/"&gt;DeviantArt Account &lt;/a&gt; (where I've also posted under the New World Disorder banner) and a &lt;a href="http://forelli_boy.1up.com/"&gt;journal on 1UP.com&lt;/a&gt;, but those are mainly now for their respective themes of art and gaming, respectively.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also call these "journals" because the term &lt;em&gt;blog&lt;/em&gt; is for internet commoners, and diaries are for girls and emos. Fucking emos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I digress. Time to tell you what this journal's about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This world is full of liars and hypocrites. Not that everyone can tell the truth or complete lies 100% of the time, the latter not happening without karma or whatever sort of concept of divine intervention kicking their asses sooner or later, of course. However it always seems that those who lie/shoot their mouth off more tend to get their way more often, and that apparently pisses a lot of people off. That goes without saying especially what's happened in the last few years, if you read the mainstream news.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this is where the hypocrites come in. They take advantage of the people's uncertainty and confusion after the lies that are exposed to present their own lies and conspiracies. They know that their targets won't believe the first set of liars' talk anymore, so by the most basic forms of logic, the reverse side of the coin must be true. For example, the Bush administration officials lied about Iraq, so apparently they lied about 9/11, and now the "patriots" are here to solve the crisis with a unified populace!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never mind that some of them have their own "hidden" agendas and promote some rather disturbing conspiracy theories. Like "The Jews Did It!" Or that their tactics when they've been proven wrong degenerate into name-calling and outright harassment. But hey, whatever pleases the crowd, right? Vox populi, or whatever that Latin term was. Elementary crowd psychology.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But really, it's all the same shit under a different brand label, hence the title of this blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About the other thing I've really learned is that a lot of what I am defines the term &lt;em&gt;oxymoron&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, I deserve to be called a whole bunch of things because I'm Filipino-blooded but I can't speak Tagalog to save my life, I've got Filipino revolutionaries up my family tree who fought against the nation I was born in, and so on. I'm also getting bi-curious but even though that's "okay," it's suddenly wrong and hypocritical for me to also try to grow more religious. As if believing that there IS NO GOD!!!!1111 and that EVOLUTION IS FACT!!!!111 doesn't take away from the value of human life (although the technical term of "most plausibly not" doesn't quite equal "definitely so" but again, whatever pleases the crowd.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've never fit into crowds, and what's really tragic about this world is that people are still ostracized for doing so, no matter the crowd's (socio-political, &lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt; racial) color. If you're not in, you're way out. And saddest of all, the world's real thinkers really are subservient to the demagogues.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what'll this journal cover? It'll cover what goes on in my daily grind. Sometimes I'll post the big things. Sometimes I'll post the little things. Mainly it'll focus on good old-fashioned cynicism. Saying that &lt;a href="http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/59501886/"&gt;"we're nearing &lt;strong&gt;1984"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt; is all the rage these days. If people want to dig up endless Orwell references, then they can think of me as the Benjamin on this crazy &lt;em&gt;Animal Farm.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In fact, I'll be saying a lot of things that people tend to violently disagree with here. Of course, that sort of reaction is not new to me. I'll also probably get redundant after entries. Yeah. Just so you know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, there's the question of why I'm doing this. Frankly, I don't care who reads this or if anyone reads this at all. I just want to post here and yes, it's because it's now free with my Gmail account. I post my opinions here because I'm free to do so. 2 + 2 = 4 and everything follows. There'll be criticism of the destructive variety, I'm sure, but hey, that's the real world. Live in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More as I move in. If I bother to.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/295648597402631921-4036272960241685461?l=nwdo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://nwdo.blogspot.com/feeds/4036272960241685461/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=295648597402631921&amp;postID=4036272960241685461' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/295648597402631921/posts/default/4036272960241685461'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/295648597402631921/posts/default/4036272960241685461'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://nwdo.blogspot.com/2007/07/why-hello-thar.html' title='Why, hello thar.'/><author><name>laZardo</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00776728309481124966</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
