Jude is preparing for a job interview. My technically-adroit husband spews terms that are beyond normal human comprehension and he talks to me like I am his sounding board. Hahaha! Actually, he knows that I absorb his lectures like the ever-hungry student that I am and so he would go on explaining how VOIP works, how voice is converted to digital packets, how the power lines are best suited for Internet and his plans of creating an inventory system using radio frequency. I sigh and think of what I want to invent myself – a silicate paper for e-books that lets you leaf through digital pages of text. It should be light-weight, will automatically adjust illumination depending on lighting conditions and so on and so forth. I told him what I want and he told me to write it down… think of materials and other features but I am NOT an engineer. I am just a hedonist thinking of ways to simplify further my existence.

So back to the job interview, he missed one, which he called a very collegiate question: sorting prime numbers. And right now, he’s kicking himself for not being able to provide a satisfactory answer. He told the interviewer that he can do it if he’s in front of his PC and he find it difficult to verbalize how he’s going to construct his algorithm. He never minded sorting routines, not him who has done more complex things such as allowing a terminal to have an LCD extension. I was there during the demonstration – one’s desktop is spread over 2 monitors. My heart goes to him but my mind refuse to acknowledge that he too can have mental lapses… I hold him in such high-esteem; he cannot possibly let me down.

Harsh and harsher
And now, hours after his sad revelation I think of my own lapses – how about that one time when a manager asked me: Where do you see yourself 5 years from now? I never thought it was possible for my heart to climb my throat and for my skin to turn apple red. I didn’t know the answer and yes, even now, am not certain. Life is too uncertain to make concrete plans.

I am acutely reminded of the movie Reality Bites thus, the title.

Thanks, Scott… I think you’ve captured my essence in your sketch.

No doubt, definitely Screaming Asian!

Bossa Nova what?

I should be glad that the music industry is rediscovering Bossa Nova but I don’t. Not when Filipino artists are going to murder the style by reviving those old contrite OPMs into something that resembles Brazilian. Ugh!

The quest for super babies

The new breed of power yuppie parents are not only intent in shaping the working world as they see fit but also the way kids are supposed to behave and think. And yes, sir they want children as young as 3 be able to read Shakespeare and quote Enid by heart.

I used to read my sister’s beauty magazines when I was still in high school. They had topics that were meant for an older more experienced audience. I learned a great deal about makeup and keeping your skin healthy such as applying lotion right after shower when your skin is still a little damp, not using oil-based products to avoid pimples, getting enough sleep and keeping off caffeine and colas. There were also nice tidbits about sex – how to keep your boyfriend from philandering and other seemingly useful ideas that now, 10 years after are still the topics that these mags are capitalizing on.

Makes one thinks that the race is not evolving into a more adaptive strain… that is, if we are plagued by the same problems decade after decade. I could be right or the publishers are only interested in hyping the obvious and the mundane.

I have since filed and trimmed my nails square (the mags taught me that) and at my age, I am now less conscious when I tell the salon attendant to NOT remove my cuticles and yes, SQUARE. When I was 19, I was a little embarrassed to specify how I want things done. And you know how it is, those attendants tend to be snooty thinking that you’re so young but when you are older, your aura changes and chances of you giving bigger tips has also increased. Hahaha! And I digress a lot, no? I have also read that it is not the brand of nail polish that makes nails stronger. It is the interval between coats – the longer the interval, the stronger the adherence of the polish to your nails… but I am so interested in getting those expensive imported bottles of polish. You have to agree with me though that they carry really nice colors – pale peaches and pink, clear tints, burgundy reds – am old and my taste is now a little on the conservative side so bear with me. So I splurge on a bottle that promised to make your nails hard as cement, put on 2 coats, and since I cannot sit still and do nothing for 30 minutes – the right amount of time to dry the polish, I dabbed on some quick dry. Five minutes after, I was doing normal things with my hands and admiring my little handiwork every now and then. A day after, my nail paints are peeling the same way that old paints with lead do. And I thought I knew better than those magazine writers. Oh, well!

It’s the weekend and am planning on dyeing my hair pink. Hahaha! I remembered the time when Tidoy was dating Budoy (now, the famous singer of the Leon Kilat band), we went out to dinner and Budoy, the artist that he is, told me that I would look better if I dyed my hair pink. Now, that am older am thinking green would suit me best. I’ll post pictures of my new image here. My officemates have been complaining to me that they are tired and bored of my never-changing hairdo. They were even surprised to hear that I’ve kept my hair that way since College.

And I complain about the magazines repetitive subjects?