I have Big herr.

After 48 years ,I went back to ICC where I had my memorable On-the-Job training. For unknown reasons, I always forget to get my certification that I worked there for 320 hours. Finally, when the circumstances of graduation (as if everything's laid out already) compelled me to get my certificate, I let out a sigh and headed back to the cement plant. I was somehow excited with going back there. I was sure the guards would give me a hard time before I could enter their premises and when I finally did, the first statement of the employee and community relations manager (Oy, Mam Lolits), joking, was "May gani gipasulod ka sa guard. Taas na kaau kag buhok." ("You're lucky the guard let you in. You need a haircut.") She asked me if I'm available after five pm. I said yes. She said it's a good thing because by then they could accompany me to the barber shop. 

I have to get my certificate. I grinned.

I don't need a haircut. My hair is just BIG. However, I'm doubtful sometimes, especially when I feel like I'm not going to fit inside a room because my hair won't allow me or when I go to school and my hair seems to tell everyone that I haven't taken a bath. Or worse, when people say my hair is obscene and should put on underwear.But I went on liking my big hair. BIG, curly hair. It protects me from drizzles (Yes, it's waterproof.) and it gives others the impression that either I am a contemporary Einstein or a former charge of a mental institution at large. Either way, I do not fit in and I stand out. 

Recently, my friend Tamsi gave me a headband. That's it. I'm gonna keep my hair.

Yes, you're right. I am. So?

Romans, countrymen, friends and lovers. I do realize that the consequences of my actions lately include resisting an intense desire to cover my face upon entering the engineering building and being the object of revulsion of certain individuals. I am prepared in anyway, if my simple admiration would lead to cataclysmic outcomes. But even so, I do believe, and so does any sensible individual, that I do nothing wrong in the context of placing the object of my admiration to ignominy or public consternation. He remains, with or without my existence, an individual of indubitable integrity and honor. I take solace in the fact that we, from the moment I saw him until I accidentally managed to have my picture taken with him, are strangers and will remain strangers as far as the cosmos is concerned. If by any chance a hint or even a shadow of an acquaintanceship looms, I will welcome it without feeling anything like what a hiker feels after surmounting a major hurdle on his treacherous trek towards a picturesque mountain.

If for my welfare my friends will advise me to cease such publicity knowing that I can never compromise my own valuable integrity which I have built and strengthened since time immemorial,  I can only thank them. But forgive my vanity. This wouldn't last for long. Follies are a luxury for me, sometimes.

And to you, lucky individual, whom the universe showered favor by allowing me to have such eyes for you, I only ask that you wouldn't mind. And I mean it literally.

I am overreacting, of course. Duh. It's just a crush. It just goes to show that I'm normal.

Abnormally normal. Ayeee...

(Because of the hype on plagiarism, the first sentence is inspired by the speech of Marcus Brutus in the play Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare. Just in case. )

The 14 shades of gray

Good thing about being fond of people who are smarter than you: you get trivia feeds when you're with them. Proof that you can go gaga over him/her and not lose I.Q points.

Consider a typical conversation where you reach the word "gray".

Trivia injected: There are 14 shades of gray.

(At this time you have to thank God that you're not being asked how much you know about Khmer Rouge.)

Template Reaction: Oh really.?? If you come to think of it, a color can have infinite number of shades.

(With a trace amount of sarcasm, probably due to thinking, "How come I don't know that?")

Retort: No, I mean shades with a name. Like for red there's crimson, etc.

Feigning Intellectual Remark: Yeah, and there's vermilion for orange.

Attempt at Overthrow: Vermilion is a shade of red. Duh.

Impulse of Pride: No. It's a shade of orange. (To self: I know it, I know it.)

Challenge: It's a shade of red, even if you check it through internet right now.

Resolution: Vermilion, sometimes spelled vermillion, when found naturally occurring, is an opaque orangish red pigment, used since antiquity, originally derived from the powdered mineral cinnabar.

Whopee-doo. It's both a shade of orange and red. Safe. Win-win.

But I digress.

I looked for that 14 shades of gray. And what I found is a music anthology totally undiscovered by my ears: the music of Staind. This one here is So far Away from their album, 14 shades of gray. 

Unfortunately I found 26 shades of gray, excluding black and white.

Shades of gray
Gray	Arsenic	Ash gray	Battleship gray	Bistre	Black	Cadet gray	Charcoal	Cinereous	Cool gray
Davy's gray	Feldgrau	Glaucous	Isabelline	Liver	Payne's gray	Platinum	Seal brown	Silver	Slate gray
Taupe	Purple taupe	Medium taupe	Taupe gray	Pale taupe	Rose quartz	White	Xanadu
The samples shown above are only indicative.

But I enjoyed the 14 shades more.

The Philosophy of Dr. House

One advantage of having too many members in one group is that some of the members apparently will have nothing to do, especially if the work is too simplistic. Perhaps being one of the very useful ones, I distanced myself away from my busy classmates and rested in the thought that "too many cooks will spoil the broth."

Then I got into a conversation with a classmate who apparently shares the same sentiment. We got to the point where I had to tell him what my dream job is.

"My dream job is to travel and write about my experiences, and then getting paid for it. Much like columnists in the Leisure, Travel and Living Sections in broadsheets."

"So nganong ga-Chem Eng man ka?"( so why then did you take up Chemical Engineering?), he asked, with an expression that reads despair over my choice of course. ("akala affected")

I did not know what to say. I just stared at him and shrugged my shoulders. I know I have already answered that question when I submitted an essay about the reason why I ventured into Chemineering to our ChE Ethics teacher ( see Why did you take up Chemical Engineering, huh, JanMell?) but something in his reaction made me stutter and grope for words, indicative of how much I feel like I've done it all wrong.

Then the topic went to being successful in life, and once again I announced that I'm beginning to feel that I wouldn't get rich as an engineer. Most probably I'd get rich by some other way, like writing or show business until I realized I was already delusional.

He said, (I heard it for the nth time) "for one to be successful one has to realize that three things govern this world: money, power and sex."

"I know what you'll say next, that if sex wasn't so damn good the human race would have died eons ago."

"No. I'm not that predictable. Duh."

Silence.

Not to be mistaken as a newly discharged patient. The mask is the best defense against the raging dust that comes with going to Taal volcano crater.

 

Typically Him

Me: What do you call this? (Pointing to a figure on the bedsheet of a friend.)
Him: ummmm...
(After 1 min..)
Him: Seal. That's a seal. (After probably choosing between sea cows, dugongs, and manatees)
Me: (Raising my eyebrows in agreement) And what do you call a seal's offspring?
Him: Still a seal? (on a sarcastic tone..)
Me: Duh. I mean a young seal?
Him: A baby seal! (on an even more sarcastic tone..)
Me: Wanna die?
Him: Dunno. Ano nga ba?
Me: (Feeling superior, as If i know something of cosmic significance.) It's called a pup!
Him: Oh really???? Thank you for that NUGGET OF WISDOM! (this time, sarcasm is superlative..)
Me: *sigh*