I’ve been under more-than-normal-levels of stress the past three weeks. That’s saying a lot, considering that the industry I’m in is, like, Stress Central. But I’m so friggin’ tired of whining and worrying. So today, and tomorrow, and the next day, I’m gonna play.

What’s in store for tonight?

– A couple of hours at a party for (mostly) college kids (No, i’m not feeling colegiala. One of our company’s magazine brands is hosting it, alright? )

– Movie with my friends. Probably this one although I’m not sure because no one gave me any details of the plan yet. So I probably won’t know until I’m at the party screaming my lungs out for my beloved Parokya ni Edgar and someone chooses that exact moment to tell me that, yes, we are indeed watching Dog Soldiers, or Windtalkers, or The Powerpuff Girls Movie and could you please come over to Galleria already because everyone’s here na. And then I’d have to tear myself away from “Picha Pie” or “Halaga” or worse, “Buloy” or “Inuman Na”, and run after a cab and rush off to Galleria. Yes, I said tear myself away. So I’m a groupie. I know that. Hehe.

– WarCraft with my game buddies

Well, that’s my idea of fun on a Friday night, as of this precise moment in time.

And I’m happy. I’m easy to please. I’m mababaw. Whatever. Basta I’m going to have fun. [grin]

Posted under Navel-Gazing

I enjoy reading Neal Stephenson. I find his works so much fun - especially since the topics he chooses to take on are close to my heart - virtual reality, a bleak portrait of the future that seems to already be happening, and a glimpse into the lives and minds of World War 2 cryptographers (with much of the action set in the Philippines, to boot).

And I love Neil Gaiman. Sandman, American Gods…his are stories that transport me to fantastic other worlds.

I have several other favorite writers - Isabel Allende, Amy Tan, and Martin Amis, to name a few.

But of them all, Umberto Eco is the one I respect the most.

This may be due to the words or expressions he uses, which always make an interesting read for me, partly because still I have to look up so many of them in the dictionary. Or the way he generously peppers his text with passages in Latin and other languages. And also partly because he oftentimes takes it for granted that his reader knows about and understands his historical, theological or philosophical allusions.

Whatever it is, when I read his works, I feel somewhat more intelligent than I really am.

Posted under Navel-Gazing