middle child syndrome

I have 2 siblings. An older (in)genius brother and a genius little sister. I am the creative one. I say I am creative because I give my parents creative pain in the BUTTocks and creative headnuckingaches. I know they love me for that. Seriously. I was/is the black pig. ( though the illustration doesn't say so) I will not go into details why ( I'm sure you middle children know what I'm talking about). Osama bin Laden was the 17th of 52 children. It's always the middle child, isn't it?

if i have a kid as wacky as Bart…

He'd be smarter than Bart. He'll do the nucking programming shortcut like that instead of writing the whole sentence a hundred times manually. Yes, his mummy was a programmer ( a lazy one).

note: I forgot C++ for that was eons ago when I made a program using the language. I might have missed some syntax, but heck that was just an illustration i made.

rachael wannabe and rachael yamagata

I browsed my old pictures ( like 5 months old pics.lol) and saw the pic on the left. I was playing Rachael Yamagata's songs and thoughts came to mind. Oh lordie! We almost have the same 'do* and and and…ok I'm a Rachael Yamagata wannabe. d'oh!

That is all.

Waiting

He never felt that she cared
Turning to leave
Feeling her lonely stare
If only a secret love
Left more than a broken heart
Like a fool thinks he felt the start
Of what he hoped for so long
He waits though he knows she's gone
Alone he climbs
Until he falls
Only a secret love brings more than a broken heart
Like a fool I have played the part
Of what I hoped for so long
The need to belong…
In love

A secret love - Toto

I’m torn in pieces
I’m blind and waiting for
My heart is realigned
I’m blind and waiting for you

I’m blind and waiting for you
I’m blind and waiting for you
No I can’t believe it’s coming true
God it’s good to be alive and I’m still waiting for you
No I can’t believe it’s coming true
I’m blind and waiting for you

- Big Machine, GooGoo Dolls

Oh well, I love pigs as an illustration.

medium: Illustrator and a bit of Photoshop ( for the grasses and lens flare).

think til it hurts

A conclusion is the place where you got tired of thinking. I am in this place. I therefore conclude that I am tired of thinking. The more I try to kick it off, the more it's coming inside my head. There's no such word that has bothered me so much the past week but this word. It's not something that comes from the heart. It's not something that bleeds. It's not something that comes out as a pleasure in bed. It's not something I need to eat. It's not something that you need to know either. All sorts of nonsense happens in the course of the day. Good, bad, indifferent… whatever. Thoughts spring to mind, shit happens, things work out, but often don't… usually I have no idea of what's going to happen beforehand and perhaps its better that way. I just don't know why I keep on thinking about Congo

What’s this life anyway?

From the moment we enter this life we are in the flow of it. We measure it and we mock it, but we cannot defy it. We cannot even speed it up or slow it down. Or can we? Have we not each experienced the sensation that a beautiful moment seemed to pass too quickly, and wished that we could make it linger? Or felt time slow on a dull day, and wished that we could speed things up a bit?

Look at the orange tree. And the butterflies and yourself. What's it to you and me?

immobile

I don't call myself techie in any way. Sure i know how to troubleshoot wireless and wired networks. I know how to troubleshoot busted ISP and Server, pc hardware crash and all. But there's one thing I do not know. I don't know how to use mobile phones! I gots me 2 different mobile phones (SE P910i and SE K750i- all are gifts of love)but i really don't know how to use it. I know the basic stuffs like texting ( which i rarely do) and calling but that's just it. I'm still not acquainted to the world's progress ( or maybe I'm just too lazy to read the nucking manual! )

—

2 nights ago, I had dinner with Pilot friends together with hubby. They were talking jargon about altitude and wings and weather and rest rooms. Did I hear restrooms? I wish they were talking English cos all i understand was the rest room part and the naked lady flying.

Wacom Intuos3 9X12 USB Tablet

I'm mighty mighty dying to have this! I know I have my own 9×12 usb tablet but it's not wacom… =( I'd give anything ( that is not mine) in exchange for this fantabulous tablet. Please??? (looks above)

of zits and grey matter

For some reason, 3 zitz are growing red on my right cheek. I want to use the healing brush/path tool on these. oh, well, i won't worry too much. I know they will soon evaporate just like that. i gots me a secret weapon. So I spoke with a coconut today. The coconut learned some things. It learned that I am fascinated with pigs and I ask forgiveness when a lechon (roasted pig) is infront of me. gawd! I can't help it. Lechon is so yummy! It also learned that I am an animated autistic anti-social elephant that loves Happy Nut.. and I'm hungry again.

So back to the topic; I took an IQ test. I gots me a 122 score. The last time I took an IQ test, My score was 130+ almost 140 to be exact. I wonder what happened to my brain and to my IQ?

and I also took another IQ test and it didn't give me a number score. It gave me this instead:
You are a Linguistic Architect

this means that you are more intelligent than 96% of all other Scholastic IQ test takers. 6 out of 1000 people are Linguistic Architects. This means that you excel at language and words and are also very good at understanding things on an abstract level. You can also put those two skills together to communicate new ideas and see how they fit into different contexts. You understand maths and science on a gut level, even if the equations and science don't come as easily. You can use these skills to be a great communicator or to create a masterpiece.

What happened to my brain and my IQ? I dunno. Maybe it has to do with my coke sniffing and happy nut overdose. heck! I don't care. I'm autistically proud that i still gots me some grey matter to squeeze in times like juicy fruit.

dysfunctional neurexin 1

I always have this dilemma dealing with people who are new to me. Say, I just met this group of people and their world is totally different from my universe. As always, people wonder why I am quiet and don't talk to them. It's not that I'm holding my breath because it stinks when I talk ( certainly that is not the case!) It's just me- Less talk, more thoughts and imagery. I hate the thought that I have to explain all over again why I don't talk that much. I've been like this 25 years and 4 BFs ago. I won't be surprised if they'd think I'm the nerdy-geeky-werdie elephant on the block. Seriously, my neurexin 1 is dysfunctional and is already embedded in the region of my chromosome 11.

Say, what am I talking about? Geez! You can always google or wiki it!

to make it short, I'm Autistic.



— I forgot that it's my dad's birthday today. shiz! I can't go home yet. I'll be working my ass off the whole week. I'll make it up to him. If my dad happens to read my blog, I wanna tell him again I love him so much and he's the bestest man in the whole wide world and universe and galaxies! I love you daddee!

but that’s just it

I have nothing much to write about. I don't even know where to start or … anyway, my life's a bit on a high and I really don't know what to say. I can't complain (no nosy boss, and that chinaman) there's nothing to whine about, actually. All i know is that my eyes are complaining, but that's just it. I love my new job. It's just like being at home drawing and doing my stuffs the whole day. It's funny, when I see someone who has pimples or wrinkles or any skin flaws, my brain's flashing and playing the healing tool and the patch tool of photoshop trying to erase it mentally. Even when I go to sleep, I trace every objects that I see with the Pen tool mentally. g'uh! I'm nuts! But that's just it. Using the spoken word to explain ideas is so mundane! I'll try singing my reply, or jotting down a quick limerick that expresses what I am thinking. I have second thoughts though, singing is not an option. I'll try reading some books that breathe good reasons and ideas. I think my brains( yes I have 4 brains) need a breather. Yeah, I'm a graphic artist now (officially)

this is my 2nd attempt using Illustrator CS2 (vector drawing)

How do you want to die?

It is appointed unto men once to die ..

The miracle of life - when semen meets egg + 9 months after = 1 nekkid crying baby. It is indeed a wonder to me how these little creatures came to life. I for once was a little baby Max Alvarado (can't find a picture of him online)look-alike. Yes, that's how mean my uncle described how I look like to his friends and relatives. (seriously, that was a true story). It amazes me to know that there are 70+ year old ladies who are lipstick shopping at Watson's. I happened to bump two wrinkled-face beautiful grannies earlier today there. "Is Revlon's color ok on my lips? How about this one?" said the other granny. I couldn't help but look at them and smiled from cheek to cheek on how cute they were while discussing and trying other lipstick colors as well. Life amazes me. How about Death? I'm not scared to die. Somehow, I feel sad thinking if I died. I'm sad because I know there are atleast 5 people who will mourn. I am sad because I hate goodbyes. I am sad thinking about it because I ain't a jillionaire yet. Now, if you ask me how do I want to die? I want to die saving someone. Because saving someone is like getting jillions and throwing a party of a lifetime. Then I'm happy.

Whiplash

Why do we always have strange run-ins just when we're feeling happy, optimistic and personable? ah!!! whiplash!!!…

You are not growing yourself younger, i reminded my reflection. Maybe it was my dress that made me look more critically at myself than usual..

Happiness goes straight to my head. I could pleasantly surprise myself with words from the heart that bypassed my brain on the way out. Sometimes this shortcut is the best way to go — it definitely will get me to where I really want to be a whole lot faster. Enjoying the wandering ways of my thoughts and actions. Nobody minds — and some people love it. I may actually encourage others to let their dreams take flight. One of 'em has grown his wings. Congratulations dear self!

*Waistline long since vanished*...that's what I wanted to see in the near future..how weird yet so true..

I was contemplating a session of retail therapy so I went to the mall and bought me a book with a very long title called Adobe Illustrator CS2 CLASSROOM IN A BOOK - The official training workbook from Adobe Systems. It costs $49.99…my nose bled.

P.S. I hope somebody's gonna be generous enough to give me the latest graphic training workbooks that rock to the core like:

Maya, Photoshop CS2 and all those howto's books. I hope that that somebody's gonna spare me with those for Dummies books.Dummies books are only for dummies.

my odder self

someone said :

The notion that all transition take us adjacent to our fitting selves or
who we are to begin with seems counter-instinctual to me.
But so does quantum physics and the law of torts and calculus and algebra.
That doesn’t make it true, but it absolutely makes it probable.
Michaelangelo supposedly said he sculpted by starting with a piece of
marble and removing everything that wasn’t the statue.
Could we be doing the same thing as people? That certainly seems
probable. It is just as possible as us being the sum of the impact
of our choices and experiences on the genes our parents gave us.
Our bodies replace all of our cells every seven years.
On odder days, I hit myself with the multi verse theory of self.
At least that’s what I call it. Since the universe we inhabit is
branching in infinite directions every moment, each instant is a new
person. I like writing letters to my future self so I wouldn’t be
forgotten since that self would essentially be dead. Those
two perspectives are probably more literal than for what you are
looking, but that’s how I roll. -)

Good luck with the existential crisis: my odder self.

(Sunday, April 30, 2006)

one retarded night

I have 5 days more to enjoy unemployment. I recently resigned being an brain squashing tech engineer for some unidentified flying reason 18 days ago. Devil knows it has to do with that chinaman! Anyway, I have a new job. The company's an International fashion firm and the boss's name is Miranda. (oh you bet! it's the devil (i hope not–the devil, I mean)who wears prada! She's a fashion designer in Europe..bet she wears prada sometimes. heck i care if she wears one!) Luckily, I'm not her assistant! I'm just a mere graphic artist. yay! I hope she's not as mean as that Miranda I was talking about. I just want to draw and design, ok!

So, five more productive retarded days to go, then Bam!. I started making one productive retardation scheme last night. Since it was a Court Order for me not to sing on Wednesdays and days in between and then next succeeding days, I managed to hide myself inside my cave( then sang) where ants marched happily near my bed bunk. Happy was I to greet each one of them with Raid.



I sang.

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