Saturday, July 22, 2017

The Life You Save May Be Your Own

"There's no one as honest as those in pain " -
 Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

Very sad but if we can learn even  one thing that can help someone then it will be so worth it. I know the person who wrote this and I knew her sister who is no longer with us. This piece is so raw that it is very uncomfortable to read. Welcome to the world of those in pain. Maybe I am being idealistic but if you learn one thing that will allow you to relate to a person who is undergoing internal turmoil, you will never know if that rapport will prevent them from a fatal tipping point. Suicide is real. You can also be a real suicide deterrent with some love and understanding. 



OKAY SO. It’s a strange feeling, having something like 13 Reasons Why blow up not too long ago and realize that for the first time you’ve fallen under the demographic trigger warnings are for. What? Sorry to anyone who’s had to deal with me the past month. I’ve been pissy and angry and everything quiet in between-- 

The year is 2014. Around this time, my sister is buying pizza for me and my 10 year old brother. She never does that. It’s a Sunday. Our parents are out of town. We play cards. She wins. She’s deleting files. There was no note. 

Until then we had been together almost every day of our lives. 

And maybe it’s because of shows like 13rw, or the recent influx of media personalities passing away under similar circumstances that I’ve been hearing conversations budding (good or bad?). These kids are sad. Suddenly people are asking again. They say they didn’t ask to be born. I wish I knew what to say. 

Just don’t do it. I know the world can be a little like A Tale of Two Cities. You're in the same place, but yours is sadder and darker than that of the people around you. Not everyone is going to understand. People will be insensitive and abusive when they don't have to be. You watch a video of a child getting a hand transplant and suddenly you're hagulgoling on the floor.

My sister made herself appear to be happy and strong (and she WAS, but nobody is strong all the time). She had issues. Mostly to do with her body and how it never looked the way she wanted it to. And I used to feel guilty talking about it. Like I was spilling a secret. And I could blame beauty standards, or the weird prestige we place on having a "good body" (spoiler: ALL bodies are good bodies), or the way we (don’t) talk about mental health in this country. But at the end of the day, this is the reality we live in. 

Before it happened I had been off anti-deps for about a year and feeling pretty optimistic about things. And now I’m sad. There are so many feelings, all wild and confusing and I don’t know what to do with them all. Nights are long. Sleep is difficult. 

And I don’t need anyone to feel sorry for it, because of course we’re all sorry and of course it hurt a lot of people. And I’m not sure what happens to you when you kill yourself, but I have some idea about what happens to the people you leave behind. 

I. There’s this kind of pain I still don’t understand. I’ve never felt so hurt in my life, and yet I still love her the most a person can. I’m functioning but I'm buggy. Like something's missing. Like something's been missing. I want to be home. But home was where you were. Where is home now

II. You were the only person on earth who understood me without me having to say anything. I never felt incomplete despite my imperfections, my incurable shyness, my intense awkwardness, because I had you. You could do everything I couldn’t do: you had more friends, laughed as hard as you liked, danced without music, hugged the people you cared about. Now I feel like I lost my other half. The half that could

III. I miss our inside jokes. I miss when we would laugh and we were the only ones who understood why. I miss having a sister. Us against the world, and I love you. I love you. I love you. And I don’t know if you believed in God towards the end, but the first prayer after you left— I’ve never prayed harder in my life

IV. Now my brother and mother hold me so close. Like I’m going to disappear. And I can’t help but feel like they’re trying to hold on to you. But I’m not You! I understand as much as anyone the void you left. And I feel such pressure to fill it for them, because our family is hurting, and they have so many questions about you. What have you done

V. I hope it didn’t hurt. The tabloids got your name wrong. It would have been me if you didn’t go first

VI. I am a different person. You were such a big part of who I was that I don’t even know who I am trying to be now

VII. You had the rest of your life. Things would’ve been different in 3 years

VIII.  You hurt a lot of people. What about all the things we were supposed to do? You would’ve been a good part of a lot of people’s lives. They won’t be able to meet you now. The best sister in the world. It was so dumb to think we could be together forever. I can’t stop thinking about you. The day keeps playing over and over. I didn’t know it was our last conversation, our last game of cards, the last time I would hear you laugh. (Why can’t I remember what it sounds like)

IX. It’s so difficult seeing people so happy when you are so sad. You’re still the same in my dreams, and one day I might be 80 and old and bent and wrinkly and you’ll still be 18. Your hair will never change, you’ll never graduate, never fall in love. You won’t have any new stories to tell

X. Who are you now? I haven’t seen you in 3 years

XI.  Ways to Say I Love You:
“Why do you look like a foot”

Me at 3am: Why didn’t you pick up when mom called?
“I don’t know. I would have answered if it was you.”

Drunk, walking/stumbling to a McDonald’s with our school bags: “You’re the best sister in the world.”

XII. People are going to miss you. They will be different after. Scared. Those who celebrated your birthday every year will dread it when it comes. Why didn't you ask for help

XIII. You were never your body. You were so much more. You were so smart. You could have done anything you wanted to. (Why didn’t you want to get better)

We need to have more conversations about mental illness. We are a long way from being able to say the words "I am depressed" and have people understand why you can't work or be out when you have a functioning body. There is so much more to learn even if you are suffering from one yourself. Be patient with yourself. Be kind even when you don't have to be. There's not enough of that in the world. 

(June 26, 1996 - August 3, 2014)

Love always ;

Thursday, July 13, 2017

Union Jack Tavern in Makati

 There was a time when the only thing smoking here was the Indian food. 

Been going here since the Murphy's days. I always considered their Pale draft among the best in Makati. I was a regular last December then they closed earlier . Work ends at midnight so i could not return and enjoy. Yesterday i was so looking forward to a pint or two and i returned to the section i was used to and I knew in an instant something was wrong. Every table had smokers. As in you think non smokers are $hit. Ash trays in every table. Great . Bye.

Phone(02) 894 1884

Saturday, July 1, 2017

Let Us Put This Claim To The Test

Just in case I get blocked for my honest and sincere question. 

Tuesday, June 27, 2017

Bladerunner Voice Overs

I watched Blade Runner yesterday. I found myself trying to remember what he originally said in the much maligned voice-overs present in the pre 1991 editions of the movie. I am in the vast minority but I got something out of the voice overs. I did not find them in one place in Google. Here they are for your reference.


Deckard (voice-over): Skin jobs, that's what Bryant called replicants.
   In history books he was the kind of cop that used to call black men

      Deckard (voice over): Sushi, that's what my ex-wife called me. Cold

  Deckard (voice-over): I'd quit because I'd had a belly full of
   killing. But then I'd rather be a killer than a victim. And that's
   exactly what Bryant's threat about little people meant. So I hooked in
   once more, thinking that if I couldn't take it, I'd split later. I
   didn't have to worry about Gaff. He was brown-nosing for a promotion,
   so he didn't want me back anyway.

   Deckard (voice-over): I didn't know whether Leon gave Holden a legit
   address. But it was the only lead I had, so I checked it out. Whatever
   was in the bathtub was not human. Replicants don't have scales. And
   family photos? Replicants didn't have families either.

   Deckard (voice-over): Tyrell really did a job on Rachel. Right down to
   a snapshot of a mother she never had, a daughter she never was.
   Replicants weren't supposed to have feelings. Neither were blade
   runners. What the hell was happening to me? Leon's pictures had to as
   phony as Rachel's. I didn't know why a replicant would collect photos.
   Maybe they were like Rachel. They needed memories.

   Deckard (voice-over): The report would be rountine retirement of a
   replicant which didn't make me feel any better about shooting a woman
   in the back. There it was again. Feeling, in myself. For her, for

Deckard (voice-over): I don't know why he saved my life. Maybe in
   those last moments he loved life more than he ever had before. Not
   just his life, anybody's life, my life. All he'd wanted were the same
   answers the rest of us want. Where did I come from? Where am I going?
   How long have I got? All I could do was sit there and watch him die.

    Deckard (voice-over): Gaff had been there, and let her live. Four
   years, he figured. He was wrong. Tyrell had told me Rachel was
   special: no termination date. I didn't know how long we had together,
   who does?

compiled from :

Thursday, May 4, 2017


This was a very sad story that happened when my time in Simon Fraser University was coming to an end. The article really touched me at the time. I also found out one of the wives really felt a kinship with the Garth Brooks song The Dance which I had since learned to love. This was 1993 so there was no Youtube to check out the song nor did I feel it was worth stalking the country music station for. Touching piece. 



THE PICNIC ON LITTLE LAKE Nellie was organized by two new members
of the Cleveland Indian family, pitchers Tim Crews and Bobby Ojeda.
The outing, on March 22 at Crews's lakefront house, was put together
at the last minute, however, and most of the other Cleveland players
already had plans for the only scheduled off day of spring training.
Pitcher Steve Olin, the leader of the Indian family, went because he
wanted to be with the new guys, to make them feel more welcome.
That was what Steve Olin was all about. That is what the 1993
Indians are all about. In this free-agent era, with players switching
teams constantly and team loyalty fading fast, clubhouse talk of a
team-as-family is often hollow and contrived. But not so in
Cleveland. With so many young players at their core, the Indians are
growing up together.
And when Olin and Crews were killed in a boating accident on that
little lake 25 miles west of Orlando, Fla., the Indians wept
together. It was dark when Crews, with Olin and Ojeda seated on
either side of him, apparently steered his 18-foot bass boat too
close to shore and struck a dock jutting 185 feet into the water.
Olin, 27, was killed instantly, and Crews, 31, died 10 hours later
from head injuries. Ojeda had surgery for severe head lacerations.
The Indians' unusual closeness was evident when 10 players
gathered in pitcher Charles Nagy's room for an all-night vigil after
hearing of the accident; at a team meeting the next morning, when 40
players huddled around manager Mike Hargrove and cried; at a memorial
service in Winter Haven, Fla., 48 hours after the tragedy, when
former Indian Andre Thornton, who lost his wife and a child in a car
accident a few years ago, gave a stirring eulogy that left the
players with tears in their eyes and smiles on their faces.
On March 25, before Cleveland's first game following the accident,
Hargrove said, ''There's a tremendous sense of family here. It's a
concept to take hold of. We have a lot of personalities and
nationalities here, but what we have in common is a sense of
responsibility to each other. We have problems like any team. But I
can't imagine doing anything else, anyplace else, with any people
other than these.''
Reliever Ted Power, who has been with seven teams in 13 years,
says, ''Nothing compares to the closeness on this team. I've never
heard from guys in the off-season as much as I have from these
guys.'' Adds Hargrove, who as a player spent almost seven years with
the Indians, ''On some teams you want five months away from your
teammates in the winter.''
It used to be that way in Cleveland, once a city where no one
wanted to play. But that began to change in December 1989, when the
Indians, who were losing about 90 games a year and were strapped for
cash, decided to rebuild with youth. They acquired catcher Sandy
Alomar Jr. and second baseman Carlos Baerga in an '89 trade that sent
star outfielder Joe Carter to the San Diego Padres. In '91
outfielders Glenallen Hill and Mark Whiten and pitcher Scott Scudder
were picked up in deals for veteran pitchers Tom Candiotti and Greg
Swindell. Other trades in the last two years, which at the time
appeared to be minor transactions, yielded centerfielder Kenny
Lofton, the runner-up in the '92 American League Rookie of the Year
vote, and first baseman Paul Sorrento. What's more, a rejuvenated
farm system produced Nagy, Olin and leftfielder Albert Belle.
The result is a Cleveland team on the rise, young (at 26 years, 10
months, the Indians had the youngest average age in the majors last
season) and hungry. General manager John Hart's plan has been to keep
this group together by giving his talented youngsters multiyear
contracts -- 18 Indians had them, the most of any team in baseball.
Lofton, 25, signed a four-year deal this winter, after only one
full year in the big leagues. ''It showed they had faith in me,''
Lofton says. ''And that's important. It's like being back in
college. As a freshman you know the guys you go in with will be there
four years later. Because we know we're going to be together, we're
in good spirits, we pick each other up. You don't see that much
In recent years you hardly ever saw any Indians living in
Cleveland during the off-season; now nine of them have bought houses
and reside there year- round. That means a lot to the fans.
Season-ticket sales for 1993 have tripled, to nearly 10,000, from
last year. That total will jump again next season when the Indians
move into a new stadium.
''The fans feel they're loved,'' says Hart. ''They think of our
kids as their own.'' The kids won 40 of their last 74 games in '92 to
finish fourth in the American League East. ''People in Cleveland are
eager for us to win now,'' says Alomar. ''I go to the supermarket,
and people are pumped. They say, 'You guys are going to do it this
year.' ''
Well, maybe not this year. Even before the tragedy, the Indians'
pitching was weak; it hasn't developed as quickly as the lineup has.
The reality is Cleveland is likely to finish closer to last place
than first.
The accident dealt a massive blow to the rebuilding effort, not
only because Olin (8-5, 29 saves, 2.34 ERA last year) was the
Indians' closer, but also because he exemplified the success of
Cleveland's plan. Though he had marginal stuff and a sidearm delivery
-- no one thought he would make it past Triple A -- Olin never quit.
Hargrove called him Mr. Rogers because he was so upbeat. Olin was the
p.r. department's go-to guy when it came to appearances, interviews,
Crews, who was signed as a free agent in the off-season, broke
three ribs early in spring training but was going to make the team as
a middle reliever. Ojeda, who was released from the hospital on March
25 and is expected to return to the team, was being counted on as the
No. 2 starter.
With no obvious candidate on hand to replace Olin, the Indians
will operate a bullpen-by-committee, filling Olin's role on a
game-by-game basis. ''When you lose an Olin and a Crews, with a young
club, that's a major concern,'' says Hart. ''But, no excuses. We're
taking the high road. This tragedy is going to bring us closer.''
The bullpen was already the closest group, even before the
accident. Last year Olin, Power, Derek Lilliquist, Eric Plunk and
Kevin Wickander were inseparable. They had rituals, like walking to
the pen together before every game and levying a $5 fine on any
member of the group who didn't make the walk with the rest of them.
After Olin's death, his wife, Patti, gave some of her husband's
personal items and baseball equipment to his bullpen mates. Wickander
got Olin's watch. Power got his leather belt.
''I used to tell Stevie to use an elastic belt, like mine, because
it stretches,'' Power says. ''Stevie wouldn't. He told me, 'I wore
this belt when I broke in. I'll always wear this belt.' Well, that
baby is mine now. I'll always wear that belt.''
It will stay in the family.

Thursday, April 27, 2017

What A Moron

I wrote this a long time ago.

Rappers are jealous because they can't even sing , write songs or play notes.

I also wrote this. 

Rap Music is an oxymoron.

"I hate rap music, which to me sounds like a bunch of angry men shouting, possibly because the person who was supposed to provide them with a melody never showed up. "-   Dave Barry