The Final Whirlpool

Thursday, November 29, 2007

So, there remains 6 days of classes after today. And it seems that things have picked up speed again, after a brief lull, and thus I am busy again, for the next few days.

Thanksgiving Break for me was very productive. I finished a paper, and in fact, have already submitted it. And therefore, the few days after, such as this past Monday and Tuesday, I never had the energy to do work. I went to my office and did nothing, since there was nothing to do. That was why my past posts were about jokes and language encounters.

Then reality bites again. I have another big test to study for. This is the one for my statistics class. The test will be on Thursday next week. And the instructor already gave us the points in which we will be tested on. So I have to hit the books again and see what I am missing.

Also, my adviser just told me that he seems to have found the solution with the statistical problem that we have with my data. And so we are pursuing the endeavor of co-authoring a paper together. We have a conference that we are thinking of submitting the abstract, and this will be on March. But the abstract is due in the next few weeks. So I have to write up something for that. If our abstract is accepted, then we might get to go to the conference and present it together.

I also started arranging stuff for my class that I will be teaching in the Spring. I have to concoct a syllabus, and take care of the reading material for that class, uploading them to the relevant databases online, so that students can access it.

Another thing to think about is the arrival of my sister. I hate the fact that her arrival is somewhat up in the air. I prefer that it would be clear as to whether she would arrive in town or not, not an "I-might-arrive-or-I-might-not" scenario. But then, that is just me, the person who hates spontaneity. You cannot make me go to a movie theatre in 15 minutes notice. I am the person who plans my grand escape six months in advance.

Speaking of escape, I cannot wait to disappear for a few days, which I am doing in a couple of weeks. I'll erase myself from the face of the planet for a few days, "recharging my sanity" as my friend puts it. Of course, I won't tell you where I am going, because that spoils the trick, doesn't it?



(The ceiling again, from another angle, from my Trinity Church Series)

Tick

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

So, it's the second to the last week of classes. Things are coasting to a closure. What else do I have on my plate?

For my Meso-American seminar, I already turned in my paper this afternoon. Thus, the only thing remaining is one homework, and three meetings, namely, this Thursday, and another Tuesday and Thursday next week. No finals.

For my Field Methods class, I still have to lead one class elicitation session, and I have two hours of individual sessions left for my speaker. And I have a paper that is 95% done, and I will just tie the loose knots for the next few days after I do my elicitation.

For my Statistics class, I still have two lectures, namely, Thursday this week and Tuesday next week, and a final test at the last day of class, namely, Thursday next week. I want to ace that test to guarantee that A in order to keep my record.

For my undergraduate class that I am a TA, I have a homework to grade right now, and I have another homework to grade that I will receive on the last day of classes, and I have a final test that I will grade on the last day of classes as well. I can do that in a few days after the classes end. No big deal.

And I can't wait for the end of class. Because after the class ends, I can escape reality for a few days, and do what I do best. You all know what it is.

But where? I won't say that. I can picture the faces of my Central European fan base drooling and itching to know where I am heading. Maybe I should say that I am heading to the center of the earth. Or not. I see it as an exercise in patience.

I also see it as plain reality. That my life is a separate entity by now. I can choose what bits of information I withhold from people and what bits of information I share. They say that they want to know so that they would know where to find me in case something wrong happens. Well, when they went to Paris, I never got to know about it until when they were already there. I never knew where they were staying, where their hotel was, and what their itinerary was. When I went to Quito earlier this year, I furnished my fan base with a very painfully detailed itinerary of what I was planning to do.

When my fan base went to London, I never knew of it. I only knew of it because of the postcards that came afterward. When they went to Prague for the first time, I also didn't know of it. I only knew of it when again, the postcards arrived in the mail. And when they went to Florence, I also did not know of it. And you guessed it correctly, I only knew of it when I got the postcards.

And I am pretty sure that left my grandparents in the dark as well with regard to these plans.

Why did they do so? Because it was their prerogative. It was their prerogative to not share the information. I believe I have the same prerogative.

And if they are worried about my safety, I appreciate the worry. But I am making every effort to stay safe. I am not saying I am immune to incidents and accidents, but I am trying my best to stay safe the whole time. If they worry about my safety, I also worry about their safety, but they didn't tell me where they were heading when they went to those places I mentioned above.

I guess this reminds me of a spring coil. If you pull it too close to yourself, you might be surprised how much potential energy it then contains, that you'll just realize that the moment you release it, it reaches too far for you to catch.



(The intricate ceiling once more, from my Trinity Church Series)

Close Encounters with the Turkish Kind

Monday, November 26, 2007

Yesterday night, as I was waiting in the bus stop for my bus ride home, I overheard two people talking in a language I couldn't understand. I knew that I would be asking them what language it was one way or the other, but I decided to play it by ear first, and see whether I could deduce what language it is.

So, no clicks. Therefore, it is not a Khoisan language. The two people were fair skinned, so I don't think it is a Bantu language either. No tones, so that eliminates Niger-Congo, Nilo-Saharan, Sino-Tibetan, and Austro-Asiatic, along with other Southeast Asian languages. Besides, the two people didn't look Asian anyway.

The language glides smoothly, from one syllable to the other. It reminded me of French, in the way I couldn't draw the boundary between words whenever I hear people speak it. But it isn't French, since I don't hear any nasalized vowels. No alveopalatal fricatives either. Could it be Italian? No, it doesn't have the distinct intonation. My best guess was that it was a Romance language, probably Romanian. Because it wasn't Portuguese either, since I couldn't hear any palatalization in alveolar phonemes. I wouldn't say Occitan or Catalan, because I should find cognates in Spanish and Italian when I am not finding one. So my best bet was Romanian.

It turned out that I was 284 miles off. The girl had her bookbag open, and so I grabbed this opportunity to budge in and tell her that her bookbag was wide open. And then I asked them what language they were speaking.

It turned out to be Turkish. I didn't realize that Turkish could be so beautiful in the ears. Then again, I have to be objective and put on my linguist hat, and say that it couldn't be the case that there are languages such as French and Italian that sound "romantic" compared to other languages like Chinese and Arabic.

After all, everyone can express their love in whatever language available.



(The delicate brown colors dominate the church, from my Trinity Church Series)

Laughter is the Best Medicine, Blonde-Style

Sunday, November 25, 2007

I figured I'd go light today, by putting on some laughter here for a change. And for today, the theme is: blonde jokes! I got these from the web, and it made me laugh, hopefully, it will make you laugh too.

Blonde Alligator

A young blonde was on vacation in the depths of Louisiana. She wanted a pair of genuine alligator shoes in the worst way, but was very reluctant to pay the high prices the local vendors were asking.

After becoming very frustrated, the blonde shouted, "Maybe I'll just go out and catch my own alligator so I can get a pair of shoes at a reasonable price!"

The shopkeeper said, "By all means, be my guest. Maybe you'll catch yourself a big one!"

Determined, the blonde turned and headed for the swamps, set on catching herself an alligator.

Later in the day, the shopkeeper was driving home when he spotted the young woman standing waist deep in the water, shotgun in hand. Just then, he saw a huge 9 foot alligator swimming quickly toward her. She took aim, killed the creature and with a great deal of effort hauled it on to the swamp bank. Laying nearby were several more of the dead creatures.

The shopkeeper watched in amazement. Just then the blonde flipped the alligator on its back and, frustrated, shouts out, "Damn it, this one isn't wearing any shoes either!"

Blonde Car

A blonde made several attempts to sell her old car. She was having a lot of problems finding a buyer, because the car had 340,000 miles on it. She discussed her problem with one of her friends.

Her friend suggested, "There may be a way of selling that car, but it's not going to be legal."

"That doesn't matter at all," replied the blonde. "All that matters it that I am able to sell this car."

"Right," replied her friend, "here is the address of a friend of mine. He owns a car repair shop around here. Tell him I sent you, and he will turn the counter back on your car to 40,000 miles. Then it shouldn't be a problem to sell your car."

The following weekend, the blonde took a trip to the mechanic on her friend's advice.

About one month after that, her friend saw the blonde and asked, "Did you sell your car?"

"No," replied the blonde. "Why should I? It only has 40,000 miles on it."

Blonde Detectives

A policeman interrogates three blondes who are training to become detectives. To test their skills in recognizing a suspect, he shows the first blonde a picture for five seconds and then hides it. "This is your suspect, how would you recognize him?"

The first blonde answers, "That's easy, we'll catch him fast because he only has one eye!"

The policeman says, "Well, uh, thats because the picture shows his profile."

Slightly flustered by this ridiculous response, he flashes the picture for five seconds at the second blonde and asks her, "This is your suspect, how would you recognize him?"

The second blonde giggles, flips her hair and says, "Ha! He'd be too easy to catch because he only has one ear!"

The policeman angrily responds, "What's the matter with you two?! Of course only one eye and one ear are showing because it's a picture of his profile! Is that the best answer you can come up with?"

Extremely frustrated at this point, he shows the picture to the third blonde and in a very testy voice asks, "This is your suspect, how would you recognize him?" He quickly adds, "Think hard before giving me a stupid answer."

The blonde looks at the picture intently for a moment and says, "Hmm - the suspect wears contact lenses."

The policeman is surprised and speechless because he really doesn't know if the suspect wears contacts or not. "Well, that's an interesting answer. Wait here for a few minutes while I check his file."

He leaves the room and goes to his office, checks the suspects file in his computer, and comes back with a beaming smile on his face. "Wow! I cant believe it. It's true! The suspect does in fact wear contact lenses. Good work! How were you able to make such an astute observation?"

"That's easy," the blonde replied. "He can't wear regular glasses because he only has one eye and one ear."



(The intricate wooden ceiling, from my Trinity Church Series)

Entering the Phantastikon

Saturday, November 24, 2007

Waking up today was a surreal experience.

I woke up, and upon checking the window, everything outside was white. It was beautiful. It was amazing. It seemed like I was in Narnia.

Anyway, my labors gave fruit today. I finished my first of two papers. I have twenty pages of printed material, and I will submit it within this week to my professor. Ha! A good two weeks ahead of the deadline.

So, I guess I got my superpowers back. Hopefully it stays the same way for next semester, because I will be teaching and taking ten credit hours.

Enough of that academic talk for the moment, but let me blog about other people for today.

For example, the person that is sitting right in front of me, here in the library's computer station.

I am here blogging, because I have sent my paper to the printers for printing. And here is this guy, perhaps of Caribbean descent, and he has this thick wad of hair, growing behind his head. He has his hair fashioned in dreadlocks. I wonder how many years it took him to have it this way. It is about more than a meter long, and he has wrapped it in ethnic cloth. I don't know whether he washes it, but it seems that he doesn't, that's why he has to resort to applying a tremendous amount of perfume, that from the moment he sat down in front of me, my nostrils started to dilate.

Anyway, that is not my business. So I am leaving this work station. Obviously, I must be tolerant of other people, but if their persona causes an adverse reaction to my persona, then I also have the right to stay away from them. Like I am doing now.



(Inside the silent church, from my Trinity Church Series)

Gothic

Friday, November 23, 2007

What a productive holiday.

I did some small-yet-significant tasks today. The first one is that I finished reading the novel which I have been working for the past few days, entitled The Shadow of the Wind. It was written by Carlos Ruiz Zafon.

My goodness, I loved it. I recommend this to everyone who enjoys reading a Gothic novel. The last good Gothic novel I read was Dracula by Bram Stoker, which was 7 years ago. This current novel is not that old; it was written in 2001, but you would think it is a classic. It has all the elements of a good Gothic novel; murder, doomed love, passion, and intrigue. I love the plot, where the subplots even have subplots. I always found myself flipping back at the previous pages because I wanted to confirm some fact that I possibly forgot during the course of my reading the novel.

So there, I am glad I accepted my friend's offer to lend me her book. I enjoyed it.

So, I will then return it to her, and I will then start on a new novel I borrowed from the library a few weeks ago. This one is called World Elsewhere. And according to the data found at the first few pages, this one is about the French exploration in Tahiti and the South Pacific. That means I would shift my imagined world from Barcelona to Tahiti.

I don't know, but for me, whenever I read, I am inside the novel. I can see the place, I can see the alleyways, I can see the events happening right there in the streets in front of my eyes. Somehow, my powers of imagination never fails me in these. That's why I like reading so much, because it gives me an opportunity to travel virtually.

That's also the case why I don't like reading science-fiction and fantasy novels. Because the setting of the stories aren't real, I cannot visualize it. I remember a bad case of imagination block, when I read Neuromancer a while ago.

By the way, in case you were wondering, in order to fly from Barcelona to Tahiti, one would go from Europe, cross North America, and head down to South Pacific. One such route is to take a flight from Barcelona to London, then from London to Los Angeles, and from Los Angeles, one catches a flight to Papeete. Don't ask about the fares, it is very expensive.

In a different topic, I was writing my paper for a seminar class, and I didn't realize that I already have 20 pages written for that, when the professor only said that he wants a short term paper, say, 10 pages, give or take 5. So, I wrote him an e-mail saying what I already done, and whether he would be fine with that.

If he says that that is fine, then guess what? I have my superpowers again. I'll be passing a paper way before its due date.

Such a nice feeling, don't you think? Ok, let me bask in the afterglow for the moment, while you enjoy my new photo series.



(Trinity Church in the shadows, from my Trinity Church Series)

Moving Along

Thursday, November 22, 2007

I like the holidays. I have no obligations to attend classes or anything, and yet I can get work done. I am moving along.

Speaking of that, watch this video. Good soundtrack whenever you are writing academic papers.

I used to have a soundtrack for this blog, by embedding a video but removing the screen, so the only thing that plays is the sound. However, some of my readers had problems with that. Their browsers would freeze and they wouldn't be able to read my ramblings. So, I took it off.

So, speaking of moving along, I produced quite a few pages for my other paper. This is for the seminar on Meso-American languages. So far I have grabbed a few sources and started writing away.

I remember my first year here. When I was known as the Super-LIW. Because I would pass homeworks and papers a week before they were due. And thus it set the bar for everyone. But then I started teaching last year and I wasn't able to do that all the time.

I remember Thanksgiving Day two years ago. I was sitting on the chair in my kitchen. I was writing my first seminar paper, while watching the snow pile up in my backyard. I remember the ducks making out behind my kitchen, chasing each other.

I also remember Thanksgiving Day a year ago. It was sunny, and I was here in my office with my Kuwaiti friend. We were working for our Phonetics project, and we were in the Phonetics Lab, recording voices and taking spectrograms. I discovered that Kuwaiti Arabic had an alveolar fricative trill whenever there is an /r/ word-finally. It was an interesting project.

Now, it is Thanksgiving Day 2007. Why do humans have to have a day dedicated to thanks? can't they give thanks in regular days as well? That is the thing that I do not understand with holidays. Humans have to be reminded that it is time to give love, it is time to give thanks, it is time to give presents. Why, one can give love, thanks, and presents every day!

Bizarre logic. As for me, holidays are reasons to stay in bed and not set my alarm the night before.



(Darkened Liberty, from my Statue of Liberty Series)

When the Sky Decided to Cry

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

So, here I am, sitting in my office. Right next to me is the window. No spectacular view or anything, just brick walls and office windows across a courtyard. And through it, I see the rain falling endlessly, since this morning.

Maybe I should be happy. Maybe I should be happy that the temperature was a tad warmer than the usual wintry weather. Or else, this rain could have been snow, and it would have been piling up, fast.

But it isn't. Instead, what we have is wet rain (is there such a thing as dry rain?) pouring non-stop.

Good thing I am not one of those people whose emotions are affected by the weather. I know some people like that, who get sad whenever the weather is bad. Those who lose the desire to get out of bed once they realize that there is no sun outside.

They shouldn't be living in places like Buffalo, when the sun goes away for three to four months during the winter.

At least I can control my emotions. But still, I have to admit that things can control my emotions as well. Such as the package I got from the UPS guy this afternoon. I've been waiting for this one for a few days now. Finally, I got it.

I can feel it. I am getting closer and closer. And when I reach it, it would be sweet.



(Mis-aligned for fifteen degrees, from my Statue of Liberty Series)

Shedding

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

The trees completely metamorphosized this past week. The week before, the trees still had their yellow and orange leaves. They were full of them. But now, they're all gone, or, rather, down on the ground.

It's funny how there seems to be clockwork with regard to the seasons. I was gazing out my window the other day, watching the never-ending fall of the leaves from the couple of trees that were planted around the corner. There was a leaf that was falling at least once every minute.

Anyway, that signals the end of the semester is near. I am almost done with one of my two papers for the semester. I worked on my Field Methods paper yesterday, and I have plenty of things written down. And I will be beginning the paper for my other seminar tomorrow.

Yeah, I know, it's the holidays. But I won't be going away this time. I have an invitation to spend a few days out of town from somebody but I turned it down. I have to prioritize. All play and no work makes LIW a dull student.

That reminds me of a phrase I say a lot of times: When I work, I work. When I play, I play! So there, in order not to be half-hearted in my work and play, I decided not to play this weekend and instead work, so I can play later on!

Weird logic, but sometimes, life is weird.



(The Face of Liberty, from my Statue of Liberty Series)

Salon d'Afrique

Monday, November 19, 2007

I just watched the third episode of The Amazing Race 12. It was again, a nice episode, with some annoying bits and pieces.

First of all, why do they show wrong planes? They showed an Aeromexico taking off in the runway when they showed a film clip supposingly describing their flight from Dublin to Amsterdam. Aeromexico does not fly to Dublin!

But that was just a minor point. The major point is, why is it that they get contestants that obviously have a low travel IQ? I remember a few seasons back, when they flew to Beijing and needed to eat fish eyes using chopsticks. Two contestants said that they were from Cleveland, Ohio. So what do they know about chopsticks?

This time, they went to Burkina Faso. They rode the train and commented about the flies, how people bring flies and how bad the smell was, even calling their new perfume and outfit being manufactured by Salon d'Afrique.

I just find those comments annoying. Not everything is as perfect as Wisteria Lane you know. It just shows how culturally insensitive people are sometimes. And it is funny that the ones who said that were two blondes, again emphasizing another stereotype.

The contestants should do research about traveling around the world if they opt to join this race. I understand that one doesn't know where exactly they would be going, but one can at least figure out beforehand that they do not speak Spanish in Burkina Faso, and that one's Gracias! means nothing to a cab driver who is living in a Francophone country.



(Facing it, from my Statue of Liberty Series)

LIW Travel Agency LLC

Sunday, November 18, 2007

I just realized that I have done travel consulting for quite a few people recently.

A friend of mine has a friend who is flying to India. This person wanted to know the cheapest way to do it. So my friend asked me and I told the possible options over the phone.

My sister is flying to Buffalo. And she needs to do it cheap. So I have scouted the available connections online, and I know details such as hotel accommodations in different connecting airports, connecting times, and other options. So I passed the information to her.

Now, it makes me think, why am I not in the airline business?

Maybe I should set up my own travel agency, which does not simply sell airline tickets to travelers, but actually plan trips for them. I am thinking of the sort that does the booking for things such as train tickets between Paris and Carcassonne, or the ferry between Hong Kong and Macau. Perhaps designing itineraries for tailored trips for travelers, so all the travelers will do is to show up at the airport, and everything is planned out for them. For me, planning is half the fun, and thus I wouldn't avail myself of tailored trips unless it is more common-sensical to do so. But for other people, it is not. I can do it for them.

Oh well, I am daydreaming again. I should get back to finishing my paper I am writing.



(The metallic armpit, from my Statue of Liberty Series)

Don Juan Triumphant

Saturday, November 17, 2007

So, I have survived this semester's Hell Week. Let me recount.

Last Tuesday, I took my first Advanced Statistics exam. I scored a 31 out of 35. Only four people from a class of 50 scored higher than me. I met with the professor and discussed my wrong answers, and I found out that if only I read the questions more carefully, then I would have increased my score, possibly, scoring a perfect exam. It is a bad feeling, when one is careless. Anyway, at this point, I still have a huge chance of getting an A in that class and maintaining my nice GPA.

Yesterday, I gave my first colloquium talk in the department. I presented my Qualifying Paper research to the whole faculty for the very first time. So for the very first time, everyone has an idea about what my research is about. I had a rather smooth delivery, and the questions that were given were answered in a succinct manner.

Except for one instance. This is the only sour note in the whole week. After the colloquium, when everyone returned to their offices, including me, I was arranging my stuff and getting ready to leave, when another graduate student came into the room. A good friend of mine was just getting out, after he complimented me with my talk, saying how he liked it. Then, this other guy came in, and said that he still does not agree with my claim. Fine, that's not a problem. However, I told him that I have the data to back my claim, even re-explaining what my table of numbers were about.

Still, all he could manage to say after that was "I don't know about that." After that, he was still insisting that a certain concept is not to be overlooked, and this might change my conclusions. However, the interesting thing though is that my research is not covering this other certain concept. The point that he is raising may be a good one, but an irrelevant one. I told him that, ending with the phrase, "Oh well."

That's when he told me that he was offended by my behavior. He was offended by the fact that I should be willing to accept feedback but I apparently am not welcoming his feedback. Immediately I told him that I might be blunt into saying that what he was saying was irrelevant, but I never meant to offend him. If I did, then I am sorry. I apologized. I don't know if he accepted it or not.

I guess, one cannot make everyone happy. I should have known that by now. My role is not to please everyone, but to do research. I'd do research, and to the best of my abilities, I will come up with a good answer to anyone who challenges my story. If I cannot answer the questions, then I will change and improve my story, but as long as my current story holds, then I will defend it.

That was a minor sour note, but all in all, the week was hectic and productive. I decided to top it off by watching a musical produced again by the wonderful Theater and Dance Department of the university. Of course, there was another reward I secured for myself, but that won't be a topic of a blog entry for the time being. The department was producing the musical City of Angels this week, and I secured tickets for yesterday night's show. I watched it with two of my friends. It was amazingly awesome. I like the complicated plot, and the fact that the story has a film noir style. Too bad it closed in Broadway more than a decade ago.



(Close-up of the platform, from my Statue of Liberty Series)

Love is a Journey

Thursday, November 15, 2007

Did you know that love is a journey? People talk about love and relationships as if it is a journey that two people take together.

Why do I say that? Well, let us look at some examples of how people talk about love.

• Our relationship has hit a dead-end street


• Look how far we have come


• It’s been a long, bumpy road


• We can’t turn back now


• We are at a crossroads


• We may have to go our separate ways


• The relationship isn’t going anywhere


• We’re spinning our wheels


• Our relationship is off the track


• The marriage is on the rocks

Just by looking at these expressions, one can see that English speakers at least view love and relationships as a journey, and that there are two travelers, you and your partner. And all the trials that face them are certain roadblocks that hinder the travel.

As my professor was discussing this in my undergraduate class in which I am the TA, I couldn't help but laugh, because my professor was asking the class of metaphors that people use, and he was asking about the different parts of travel. I on the other hand was thinking about The Amazing Race and so was volunteering my own input as well. So, while people gave out destination and vehicle and path, I on the other hand gave roadblock, detour and pitstop.

So what exactly is the destination in a relationship? A path? The vehicle? I guess there is a conceptual equivalent for those, also for roadblocks. But detours? Are there detours in a relationship? When I gave that out yesterday, someone else in class said, Oh that's when you swing! How about pitstops?



(The lady from the back, from my Statue of Liberty Series)

Being on Steroids

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

Today was a very hyperactive day for me. It was like being on uppers for the whole day. Bizarrely amazing.

It began two days ago, actually. I had this big statistics test this morning, and so starting from two days ago, I set out to review the ton of material that was covered in the class. And yesterday, upon the end of my class at 3:30 PM, I packed up the brick (the thick red statistics textbook), together with my notes and my reviewer, and went home.

And I think it paid off. Well, when I received the exam this morning, I immediately scanned the five pages it was printed on, and immediately, things registered in my head. "I know this! Oh, I know the formula for this one! Oh this is the Z-test!" And so on. Overall, I have a confidence level of 95%. Hopefully, it turned out well as I am estimating. I want my effort to pay off. I've been cooking with my T-tests, I've been sleeping with my ANOVA tables, I've been dreaming about my Contrast Tests and Trend Analyses, and I've been going to the shower with my Z-Transformations.

That's why this morning, in a way I couldn't wait but to spit the material out of my head.

So that was that. I finished the exam in 45 minutes, out of an alloted hour and a half.

In other realms of my existence, I also met with my adviser, which I showed my handout that I am going to use for my presentation this Friday. Yes, I am fulfilling one of the requirements for the Ph.D. degree this Friday. I am giving a colloquium talk thereby exposing the research that I have been doing for the past 2 years. I will be giving a 20-minute talk about my hypothesis, and my 4x2x2 factorial experiment that I have conducted, and how it supports my analysis of how temporal relations are interpreted in a tenseless language.

I also got shot this afternoon. That's why my left arm has a bandage. I availed myself of the free flu shot that the clinic is giving away, and so I went there together with my Kuwaiti friend, and we lined up to get a shot. Hopefully, this wouldn't ruin my winter by bringing me down to bed for a week, which happened two years ago for me.

So that's my day so far. This has been the most hectic week for me so far, and I am managing! Amazing eh? I once told a friend of mine that I wish I could clone myself, so that one copy would do my QP, while another would go to class, and another would have fun, hopefully, that was the real me. My friend responded that humanity has had enough of LIW. He also told me not to worry since I am doing a great job balancing my act together, even calling me Super-LIW!

I didn't know I was a superhero.



(The boat to Liberty Island, from my Statue of Liberty Series)

Alcoholic

Sunday, November 11, 2007

I can't remember how I ended up there. But there I was, walking the shopping streets parallel to Route 43, running between Sannomiya and Motomachi. We just got out of the okonomiyaki shop, the taste of the fresh oysters fried together with cabbage and eggs still lingering in my mouth. I can still smell the hot plate, with mounds of okonomiyaki batter sizzling on top of it, and the sounds of laughter of me and my friends, talking in the small room.

Then, I suddenly found myself outside the shop, walking westward, heading towards Motomachi. I can't remember where my friends went. I checked my hands, and little did I know that I was clutching a bottle of Stella Artois on my left, and a Kirin on my right. All I cared about was that they were there, safe within my grasp. I took a sip from both of them. Nice and cool, soothing to the throat.

I continued walking, but I couldn't walk straight. I veered to the right, only to be bumped back to the left. I saw the Maruzen bookstore on my left. I remember this place. I used to sneak out of the music school and spend a few minutes here before my piano lessons reading English books, canvassing the place, and seeing which book I would want to ask my parents to buy for me.

I went inside the door, and put the two bottles on a stall to my right, covering them with a book. Andy Warhol's photographs. I burped, loud enough for a shrine's gongs to reverberate. Two Japanese ladies looked my way, murmured something, and continued on their business. I strolled in between the shelves, and looked for something to catch my attention. I reached my hand forward, and grabbed a colorful book. 101 Cocktails.

Eventually, the ceiling started to whirl, and I felt the building would collapse, so I headed to the door, grabbing my two bottles along the way, before the building crashed on to my head.

I was back on the street again. My Stella Artois was empty, so I grabbed the arm of a stranger, he was a high school kid, complete with the Mao Zedong uniform and all, and I told him, Totte yo! Mo iranai kara! "Take it! I don't need it anymore!"

He was speechless, and took my bottle.

And less than 5 seconds later, another stranger, a middle-aged woman, with a Daimaru department store paper bag on her arm, reached inside her paper bag, and gave me another bottle. Arigato. "Thank you," I told her.

I continued on, and entered the Yamaha Music School, near Motomachi. I saw a grand piano, and a man on a tuxedo, playing. On top of the piano sat Marilyn Monroe, or a look-a-like. I couldn't tell. I saw a baritone saxophone hanging by the wall, and I poured the remaining contents of my Kirin into it. It was lukewarm by now, not palatable at all. Suddenly, Marilyn Monroe took the baritone saxophone and played it, facing the pianist. All the lukewarm liquid thus flowed out of the saxophone, and directly to the face of the pianist, who seemed to be laughing and smiling at the same time, as if he was being rewarded, like an obedient dog.

Ah, people in this shop aren't making any sense, I thought. So I got out, but before I got out, the cashier in the music store asked me whether I would like to redeem my coupon, which I totally forgot. Why not, I told him. So he went inside the office, and reached inside a large white box, which I discerned to be a refrigerator. When he got back to me, he handed me another bottle of Kirin. Needless to say, I thanked him.

My head, it's throbbing real hard. It felt like it was being inhabited by a circus monkey who was beating a drum constantly inside. And all I could do is take a sip from either of the two bottles I was clutching, hoping it would drown the monkey in my head. I went to a clothing store, and went up the second floor. There was a couch there, I knew it; ten years ago I used to sit on that couch while waiting for the dressers to fit my mother with her latest outfit. I moved the couch so it was facing the street and not the inside of the store. I people-watched for a few minutes, taking copious sips of the drinks I had in the meantime.

Then, I grew tired of it. So I lifted my butt off the couch, and headed westward again. I saw the hole, where people were descending. The entrance to the metro station. I took one step, and suddenly, the concrete steps turned into a moving escalator. Were they escalators in the first place, and I simply didn't recognize it? Or was this the new model of an escalator, camouflaged as a simple staircase. In any case, I couldn't tell.

I cannot remember how deep the station was, but I think I was standing there for at least 15 minutes. I knew it was 15 minutes because I heard Ravel's Bolero play from start to finish, and I know that that piece takes 15 minutes to perform. But, there I was, at the bottom, and I turned left, seeing a window. It was strangely bizarre to find a window, at the bottom of the underground escalator. I approached the window, and was surprised to find my hands free of their occupants. I peeked at the window, and upon doing so, I saw the sunrise, welcoming the new day.



(Encircling the lady, from my Statue of Liberty Series)

Realism Sucks

Saturday, November 10, 2007

I finished reading my novel yesterday, entitled The Disinherited by Filipino-American novelist Han Ong. And in short, I was disappointed.

But being the person who finishes books even if I don't like them, I continued reading it until the end. But, in the end, I still didn't like the book, for a number of reasons.

First of all, I did not like the portrayal of the poor people in the Philippines. I am from the Philippines, and I am familiar with the lay-out of Manila, thus, when I was reading this, I could comprehend and see in my head the story where it progresses geographically. I could not say that I come from a poor family, and I definitely have no experience being a street urchin. I do realize that there are people like that in the Philippines, yes, but the fact that the novel emphasizes it in the whole book, is slightly unnerving. I do not understand why this book seems to emphasize that all poor people in the Philippines sees the United States as their savior. It paints a picture in which all the poor in the Philippines wants to escape to America, and that all their problems will stop if only they could get their butts to America. For me, it was a huge display of colonial mentality.

I also was displeased with the portrayal of the Philippines as an exotic location who happens to be the haven of pedophiles. I did not like the fact that the Philippines was portrayed to be a place where the sex offenders of First World countries such as the United States and Australia board airplanes in hoards and frolic with the boys in the Philippines. It may be true, yes, but it doesn't happen just in the Philippines.

Maybe the reason why I didn't like the book was because the Philippines that the book portrayed isn't the Philippines that I got to know. Maybe I am just fortunate not to know that side of the country. In that case I should be grateful that I only experienced it vicariously through the book, and not physically by actually living it. However, I still think the book didn't do justice to the country.

It may be a realistic novel, but the newspapers are realistic as well. If I want to read about street urchins robbing middle-class people, I might as well read the newspaper.

Sometimes, realism sucks.

So, I returned the book to the library after finishing it, and I picked up another one. This new one is entitled The Shadows of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon. A friend of mine loaned me this one. Hopefully, this is of a different brew.



(Facing the lady slowly, from my Statue of Liberty Series)

Trance

Friday, November 09, 2007

Yesterday, I was working on my qualifying paper until late. I was manipulating my Excel sheets and working on my data set. Sometimes, this task can be boring, since the repetitive movements I do with my hands seem trance-like, automatic, producing numbers in front of my eyes, in the screen.

So, before I get repetitive strain injury such as carpal tunnel syndrome or any other related disorders, I pause sometimes and let my mind wander.

And last night, I found myself checking out AA.com for airline ticket prices.

And guess what? I found a round trip airfare to Delhi, India for just 767.00 USD! Half than the usual fare from my part of the world. This route will require one to fly from Buffalo to Chicago on American Airlines, and from there change airlines to Royal Jordanian Airlines, which has a flight from Chicago to Amman, Jordan. One will then change planes in Amman for another Royal Jordanian flight to Delhi. And the whole trip just costs 767.00 USD! My Indian friend told me today that it is just half compared to what she usually pays.

Ah, the price might be right, but my brain still rules. Not right now, maybe later. Way later. But my Israeli friend wants to go to India as well, so we sort of agreed that both of us will go three years later. In that case, it would be in 2010. And in that case, that trip would be my graduation present to myself. Nice! I can't wait to frolic inside the Laxminarayan Temple and Humayun's Tomb.



(The lady from another angle, from my Statue of Liberty Series)

Sitting on the Throne

Thursday, November 08, 2007

I don't know if this is culture-specific, but sometimes, we call that seat that you find in most homes in the restroom to be the throne. So, whenever a person defecates, in a sense, he or she is sitting on the throne.

I guess by this point, you will know that this entry is about defecation. So, if you are one of those people who shirk at this kind of topic, then click that red button at the upper right corner.

Otherwise, you can proceed. You have been warned.

I just find it absurd why people sometimes do not want to talk about this topic, but come to think of it, it is a bodily function. It is one of the things that we do that defines our being human. If we did not defecate, then we wouldn't be humans. Why be silent about it?

Anyway, back to defecation. I am getting the idea that my routine of defecation is slowly changing. I used to do it once a day. Every morning, defecation is part of my morning ritual. It is one of the things that I do before going out of the house.

However, it seems that the number of days that I defecate more than once is increasing. I don't know why. It's not that I am eating spoiled food. Maybe, it is the weather. I haven't changed my diet radically. I don't know.

Maybe Freud is haunting me. Making me pay for my adolescent days of anal phobia.

Oh well, what do I know. At least I have a new photo series now, since all of my Quito pictures have been exhibited already, I started the new series from my New York City collection. And for now, let me start with the lady herself. I wonder how long she has been standing there, without defecating of course.



(The first view of the lady, from my Statue of Liberty Series)

Beaches and Islands

Wednesday, November 07, 2007

There seems to be a perennial attraction installed in the human mind with regard to beaches. Plenty of people I know love to go to the beach. Even when I was living in the Philippines, my friends looked forward to going “swimming,” not even the beach, but even in a pool. That is worth an excursion already.

Is it because the weather is typically hot? But can’t we just go in the shower and take a cold bath? Isn’t it the same thing as getting wet?

I never understood beaches. My family usually is the beach person, while I preferred the heights. I preferred mountain climbing and hiking than the water.

I have a friend that is getting married in the near future. And guess where they want to go for their honeymoon? In the Greek islands. Again, beaches.

But I do have to admit, there is some mysterious attraction that beaches give to its visitors. But I am very picky if I were to pick a beach to visit. I don’t want a crowded beach, since that isn’t a recreational spot, instead, that would be a fashion show. People would show off their balanced tans and toned bodies. People would show off the results of their frequent visits to the gym, and women will stare at men and men will stare at women. Maybe if I have an ideal body, I’d change my mind, but for the moment, I’d rather cover up.

The November/December issue of the National Geographic Traveler came in the mail today. The magazine is featuring an article about the world’s best islands. Now that is appealing. Beaches may not be appealing to me, but islands are. Now they are not the same thing, although most of the time, whenever you are in an island, you will be in the proximity of a beach.

The article ranks the Faroe Islands as the world’s best island. Very remote, and not a lot of visitors. And the natural scenery is spectacular. Check out the cover of this magazine’s current issue and you’ll see what I am talking about.

Speaking of the Faroe Islands, I knew of someone who almost went there a couple of years ago. The thing is, the Faroese have a language that is slowly dying, due to the fact that Danish is more commonly used, and the younger generations move to Copenhagen and not stay in the island anymore. Ah, too bad, another language will rest in peace pretty soon.



(Black and white stained glass, from my Basilica de Voto Nacional Series)

Is It Amazing?

Tuesday, November 06, 2007

Last Sunday was the premiere of my favorite show, none other than The Amazing Race. They are back for the twelfth season, and again, they are racing around the world. As the multitudes of seasons passed by, the show has been through many different incarnations, from different rules, to different penalties, to different team formats. Good thing that they are back to the two people per team format. I really hated the Family Edition.

Anyway, I still am puzzled as to why they accept certain people in the race to be participants. I know that this is open to all, and that equal opportunity is a good thing, but it is a race after all, so people that are not so physically fit will most likely trail behind.

I wish there was a season where everyone is just able-bodied men and women. Not teams that consist of grandfather and grandsons, or fathers and daughters where the elder person is a senior citizen, or obese teammates.

I remember a previous season, then they went to Milan for the first leg, and they were bussed to a ski resort somewhere in the Italian Alps, and they had to cross a tight wire bridge in between mountaintops, a woman, who was rather plump, couldn't even make it smoothly, and she had to stall all the players.

I know, people use the race to prove something to the world. But is it really necessary to prove it to the world that you can or cannot do it? It is a race, it is an adventure that spans 30,000 something miles. Plus, why do I care whether two lesbian ordained ministers are able to finish the race or not? Do I care whether two siblings who are also engineers are able to finish the race? Why do they need to prove that they are strong in brawn not only in brains? And why does a Goth couple need to prove that they too can run the race?

One more thing that sort of annoys me is the drama (or something like it) that accompanies the race participants. This is a race, not a soap opera. I do not need to know that a father wants to make up lost time with his daughter while running the race. That isn't going to happen. People will be concentrating on filling that basket with peat and transporting it using a donkey. People will be concentrating on pedaling that bicycle across a high wire on top of the Atlantic Ocean. The race is no quality time, if there exists such a concept.

Aside from the participants, there are other things that annoy me as well, like showing wrong footage of aircraft in the show. One example is when the teams that transited from London Heathrow Airport supposedly "arrived" at Shannon Airport in Ireland, they showed a British Airways Boeing 747 (the "jumbojet") taxiing the tarmac. However, what actually took place was that the teams connected in London Heathrow with an Aer Lingus Airbus A320 plane, a smaller plane that the jumbojet. British Airways doesn't even fly the London-Shannon route, only Aer Lingus does. But then, that may just be me, the aviation fanatic.

In the end, even if there are plenty of things that annoy me in the show, I still end up watching it. I guess traveling is just a thing that gives me orgasmic satisfaction. I like seeing the places that I wish I could go to. And I like seeing the places that exist out there in the world, waiting for me to visit them.

That's why sometimes I pity the racers. They are too rushed they don't even have the time to snap a photograph. Their passports may have all the entry stamps and visas, but could they really say that they have experienced the country?

I don't think so.



(The dangerous steps to the clock tower, from my Basilica de Voto Nacional Series)

Superpowers

Monday, November 05, 2007

Sometimes it is complicated to be human. There are things that are clearly part of being human but I find it difficult to deal with.

Like the fact that humans can opt not to say what they really are thinking about you. The fact that humans can opt to just stay silent, and torture you with thinking whether you did something wrong or not, and why you are eliciting such weird behavior from them.

I wish that humans didn't have the capability to tell lies. Or as an alternative, I wish that I can read human minds.

If I were able to read human minds, then I would know exactly how to act. Everything would be transparent. I would know exactly what they think about me, and I would act accordingly. I don't like this guessing game.

So, if someone were angry at me, then I could easily know that they are. And I could easily fix that. If they hate an aspect of my persona, then I would gladly try to fix it to the best I can. In the same fashion, if someone were interested at me, then I could react accordingly. If I am not interested in the person, then I could distance myself if I need to, or if I am interested in the person, then I would pursue it accordingly.

If only humans had neon billboards on top of their heads that indicate what they are thinking. Then life would be simple.

It reminds me of a novel that I read a while ago. It was entitled The Truth Machine, where there was a genius who invented a machine that was foolproof, and it acted like a lie detector. The world became a safer place since it was foolproof, and that courts were able to exact better justice.

But then obviously, life is more complicated than that.

Reflecting back, I find it funny to a certain degree that I constantly use phrases such as I wish that humans were... and so forth. It sounds like I do not consider myself to be one. It sounds like I consider myself to be non-human, instead, an alien.

Maybe I am. Considering the fact that earlier this morning, I wish I was able to warp from one place to another in the blink of an eye. I was walking from my office to the library, which, although it was the next building, I had to go down from the sixth floor of my building to the second floor, and then use the elevated walkway to go to the next building and then ride the elevator to the fifth floor, where the book I was interested in was located. If only I could warp from my office to the fifth floor of the library, and then grab that book and warp back again, then life would be easier.

But then if I had that capability, then perhaps I am heavier by a few pounds than what I am right now.



(The view from the clock tower, from my Basilica de Voto Nacional Series)

The Linguist and Franz Liszt

Sunday, November 04, 2007

Recently I have found myself to be extremely busy. It's not that I find myself with too much work that I am practically sinking under it, but, I find myself with work that are just too plentiful, to the point that I merely have a second to breathe after finishing one before I begin the next one.

Well, I shouldn't be surprised, since it is the start of Week 11 tomorrow. Which means that I have one-third of the semester left, before I wrap up my act together. The thing that is totally not surprising at all is the fact that I am already starting to deal with Spring semester, even before this current Fall semester hasn't ended yet.

So, for this Sunday afternoon, I decided to pay a visit to the Music Library and check out some compact discs for my enjoyment, while I am working here in my office. And I picked up a theme. Today will be a day devoted to Franz Liszt.

Even when I was still in my musical days, when I was practicing the piano seven days a week, I never touched a Liszt piece. No, I take that back. I remember practicing a certain piece from his Years of Pilgrimage album. I think it was the Canzonetto de Salvador Rosa, but I am not sure. I can't even remember it. The main reason is because Franz Liszt is known for composing very virtuoso pieces. And I wasn't in that level by then.

Franz Liszt produced a huge collection of works. For now, I borrowed his Annees de Pelerinage, his Hungarian Rhapsodies, and his transcriptions of Beethoven's symphonies. Yes, the guy transcribed all 9 of Beethoven's symphonies for solo piano.

Well, if I cannot play them, then I'll do the next best thing. I'll listen to them.



(The huge stained glass rose, from my Basilica de Voto Nacional Series)

Prussian Soldiers

Saturday, November 03, 2007

The semester is officially two-thirds over. I have five weeks left, and things are picking up their pace. And so is the weather.

I have started on my paper for my Field Methods class. I am writing about aspects of temporality in Northern Dagara. I also am doing tons of work with regard to my experimental research. This is due to the fact that I am speaking in front of the whole faculty in less than two weeks from now. I am giving a 20-minute talk two Fridays from now, followed by a 10-minute discussion. My head tells me that I shouldn't be nervous; all I am doing is that I am giving an exposition to the whole department what my qualifying paper research is about. I know what I am talking about, but still, there is the quaint feeling of butterflies in my stomach.

Familiarity indeed breeds contempt. I cannot say that man is an island; rather, man is a social being. However, there are aspects of social behavior that I am not good at. There are things that are unsaid, but still discerned. Things that are not mentioned in the outright, but still sensed. And I do not like it when my actions are somehow interpreted as signals, when in fact I have no motive whatsoever to send those signals.

My hand is getting dry again. That means that I have to take out my lotions and potions again, so that my hands won't crack. I guess it is about time, since I have started wearing my winter coats again. Someone told me that I look like a Prussian soldier when I wear my red coat, which I got from Japan almost a decade ago.



(The intricate arches, from my Basilica de Voto Nacional Series)

Sex Theory

Thursday, November 01, 2007

There are two main forces that govern the world we live in: the force of order and the force of chaos. There is a force that operates within the world which drives us to be orderly, arranged, and systematic. On the other hand, there is a force that operates within the world which urges people to be dissimilar, be radical, and be non-traditional. These two forces work side by side and in the end, they more or less balance each other out.

These two oppositions are evident in many different ways around us. That is why people have devised different theories to account for these: the two most known being the Central Limit Theorem and the Chaos Theory.

One instance in language where these two oppositions are evident are from the fact that there are sound processes that motivated by the desire to have an ease of articulation. Assimilation happens because human phonological systems want an easier pronunciation. However, if the drive for ease of articulation wins all the time, then all we would do for language is to just open our mouths and release air and say “Ahhhhhh” all the time. Of course, that does not happen since the desire to put meaning into the sounds, in other words, to have order in the sounds, also plays a part, thus, differentiating the sounds to signify different sorts of meaning.

But let me stray away from the topic of language for a bit, and let me discuss my own theories of love. I have mentioned before, if I am not mistaken, that I do believe that the human phenomenon of love and lust can be observed and explained empirically.

First of all, why do we say that a certain person we see on the street is sexy or not?

Sexual orientation aside, if you see a person on the street who is of the same type as you are, then you can judge that person as sexy or not if you think he or she has characteristics that if you had them, you would be sexy. Plenty of people wouldn’t dare say that someone of their own kind is sexy for fear of being branded as a homosexual. But doing so just acknowledges that other person’s possession of a characteristic that you want as well, and should you have it, then you are sexy as well.

Now if you are judging a person that is not your type as sexy, then this is based on your desires. Of course, humans are inherently selfish. Thus, one only wants what one thinks is best for oneself. It is because we have the instinctive desire of survival that we pick what we think is the best person as the object of our desires. Evolutionary psychologists may say that this is the reason why older men pick younger women, because they are the most optimal in bringing up offspring. Younger women on the other hand pick older men because they are the most capable of supporting them in financial and other means. However, what I see in that is simply that men are being selfish, as humans naturally are, and they just choose mates the same way as they choose cars. One wants a newer one, a younger one, a fresher one, a more stable one, a more secure one. One wants the product that he or she can get the most out of.

I do not believe in love at first sight. I believe that love can be developed, and is actually developed. I believe that it is impossible for one to fall in love with a total stranger, the moment one sees the other. Instead, what that is is a manifestation of lust. That is lust at first sight. That is the sighting of a person, who is the epitome of one’s desires. Now if one ends up being with that person, then that just means that they have developed their love, but what they felt at the beginning was just lust.

I believe that love is the result of a person’s willingness to share and open up one’s own person with another. This can be measured in a continuum ranging from 0 to 10. One can say that one’s relationship with another person lies somewhere in this scale. If one’s relationship with another person is a zero, then that means that they share nothing with each other. Both are total strangers with regard to one another. Like the person who shared the elevator ride with you this morning. Or the person who sold you your coffee.

The more the number increases, the more bits and pieces of information you share with this person. Thus, a zero is a stranger, and a ten is the ideal lover.

The ideal lover is the person who knows everything about you. This implies that you have been willing to disclose everything about you to this person, including your past, and all the skeletons in your closet. You cannot say that you love someone completely if you are witholding something from this person. One must risk everything to this person, if one would want to be the ideal lover. Love doesn’t come for free; it comes with a sacrifice.

I do not know whether there are plenty of people who are ideal lovers. Or maybe it is just me being cynical. Perhaps most people claim to be happily in love with another person, but deep inside they have secrets that they don’t want their partners to know. And if it isn’t detrimental, then they would continue their lives without revealing it. But it still shows that one holds back something from their partner, thus, not giving the totality of oneself to the other.

This scale also explains why friendship exists. Friendship is basically the commitment of two individuals with each other. The reason why that bond gets strong is because the two individuals have a common ground, a shared history. They agree to divulge to each other important bits of information that they do not pass to other people. That is what distinguishes a stranger from a friend, they score higher in the continuum.

This implies my next belief: that friends can turn into lovers. Lovers are not in their separate category. In order for a person to be your lover, he or she must be your friend first. And of course, at the first place, he or she was a stranger. What happened was that both of you decided to increase your common ground and construct a shared history. And as the score increases, the more chances there is of your friend becoming your lover. Your lover is after all, your best of all the best friends you could possibly have. Your lover is the product of your desire, because you chose to select a person out of the multitudes of people there are, and cultivate a relationship with this one. This brings me to my other belief, which is about sex and the law of supply and demand.

Humans have plenty of bodily aspects that require gratification. There is hunger, there is thirst, there is sex. If you are hungry, you go ahead and find food. If you are thirsty, you go ahead and get a drink. This is the law of supply and demand at work.

Now why do we go ahead and find partners for ourselves? It is because there is a demand for one.

Somewhere down the line, as we progress and age, there will be a time when we would have the urge to find a partner. Ideally, this partner should be someone that we love, but sometimes, people find themselves in dire straits that they would be willing to forego the idea of love, as long as they have themselves a partner. No wonder there are cultures around the world that have marriage matchmakers.

Why do people set off finding a mate? Because they feel incomplete without one. Because they feel that something is missing if they don’t. But if one is contented, if one is satisfied, if one feels satisfactory with the current state that one is, then one does not have the desire to get a partner. One will only get one if one’s system tells oneself that it is necessary.

What is the root of all this? Regardless of which aspect of human sexual behavior we look at, we see one principle; the Selfishness Principle. This is the one that drives all of us. You declare someone you are not sexually attracted to as sexy because you envy what he or she has and you think it will make you sexy if you have it. You declare someone you are sexually attracted to as sexy because you think that person is the epitome of your desires and will satisfy it. You pair up with another person and declare that person your lover because you and that other person have a shared history together, and without the other you feel incomplete and vulnerable, thus unable to survive this world. And you find a mate only because there seems to be a void that needs to be filled in your system, and your partner ideally should be the best fit for that void.

Plenty of humans may disagree with me, and instead advocate that selfishness is bad, and insist on selflessness as a virtue, but if one examines the human aspect of sex, lust, and love, selfishness is indeed the common denominator. One must not deny that selfishness is intrinsic in being human.



(Looking towards the altar from the balcony, from my Basilica de Voto Nacional Series)