I am the resurrection

I had nothing to say for these five months. But finally...

Nope. Still have nothing to say.

But am feeling inspired to write. As always, I have no legal or moral obligation to divulge the reasons of this sudden rush of inspiration. I'm a bastard that way.

Seriously, there will probably be some posts with actual content soon. No promises.

All Good Things...

It's been a blast Seattle (and Tacoma).

Good night, and good luck.

Happiness is a Warm Gun

In the immortal words of one John Lennon:

"I need a fix cause I'm going down."

Nothing brings you down like a birthday. It's magically depressing, but you're supposed to celebrate it instead.

Oh god, that was so emo. I apologize.

Cheers.

Unintended Consequences

I was under the impression that a vacation is supposed to be relaxing.

No such luck.

For the last two and a half weeks, I traveled around. A two day hop to Berkeley, a long-dreamt six day trip to New York, a drive to Leavenworth, a two day visit to Portland, and a six day excursion to San Francisco.

Now, I'm spent and I still have an apartmentful of stuff to sort and pack/sell/throw out before—wow, this is actually depressing to say—I have to go back to Jakarta.

Sigh. I need a vacation.

World Cup, en Español!

Living in the US and not having cable, I wasn't surprised of the difficulty of watching a live World Cup match. I had the same trouble in 2002. Four years ago, the only matches I could watch were the ones with the US and knockout round games. It was torture for an avid football (that's right yanks, football) fan. Imagine my surprise when I found out I could watch every game in the competition.

But there's a catch: The broadcast is in Spanish.

Univision, a Mexican TV channel, broadcasts live matches of the 2006 World Cup. All of them. Everyday between 6 am to 2 pm. I watched England stuttering win against Paraguay, Czech Republic's 3-0 pummeling of USA, Ronaldo's unwillingness to move, and Oliver Neuville's last gasp winner. In Spanish. I don't habla Español, but really, how much do you really lose from not understanding in-game commentary?

In fact, the Spanish play-by-play spices things up and definitely much better than the dull American commentary. Hell, it made routine plays as exciting as a penalty shootout in a Championship game. And then, there are the goals.

There's the standard minute-long howl:

"Goooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooool."

Another, new to me, a monotonous repeating broken tape:

"Gol. Gol. Gol. Gol. Gol. Gol. Gol."

To make things even better, there are also the commercials for Latin soap operas. The soaps themselves are horrible, a melodramatic and over-the-top camp-fest. But what makes them special are the latin girls that star in the soaps: Muy caliente!

My mornings are now dedicated to a new routine. Good thing I'm unemployed.