Friday, March 31, 2006
DÉJÁ VIEW
Since you nice folks have been seeing waaay too much old entries in this site, I've decided to throw in some more history -- Duskwatcher now has a Today In History box among the links.
So if (out of boredom perhaps) you ever wonder what happened a year, a decade, a century or a millennia ago, do check it out.
Monday, March 27, 2006
MAGS
Apart from the newly orphaned computer and the few, inevitable pieces of paper, the table was empty. It was the first in the row of six desks we (inaccurately?) christened Writers' Block. It was the closest to the Creative Department's entrance and it was the first thing I looked at when I entered the room this morning.
It had been occupied by Mags, who had moved on in the proverbial quest for greener pastures.
Now, the usual clutter that gave a writer's desk that pleasant, lived-in look was gone. The action figures were gone. The knick-knacks were gone. The FHM calendar was gone. Mags had gone.
Mags was someone I genuinely liked having around on cigarette breaks, drinking sessions, and, when we got to work together for a pitch project, brainstormings.
I've met writers who merely reflected creative light like barren moons. Writers who, like will o' the wisps (also called fool's fire) that occur in bogs, managed to glow thanks to vast amounts of gas. Writers who deserved to be set alight with a tank of gasoline and a match.
Mags's flame came from within. And I am certain that flame will blaze brighter, so much brighter, with the new Agency.
Never got to say goodbye on Mags's final day at work last Friday. But I guess I never had to.
After all, the world of advertising is so small, I'm certain we'd meet again.
Saturday, March 04, 2006
DARTHWATCHER
 | You scored as Darth Vader. Darth Vader: The Father
What Force User Are You? created with QuizFarm.com |
This quiz was taken by force from Canis Lupus. Heh.
Friday, March 03, 2006
FOREIGN TONGUE
There is this guy I'd see among the regulars in the Makati-bound shuttles. He looks like the quiet sort and usually wore decent, collared shirts.
More often than not, he'd have a set of notes with him. Eventually, I discovered that he was learning Japanese. I thought this was a very admirable, productive way to spend the travel time that would otherwise be wasted on staring outside the vehicle windows and trying to ignore the horrid pop station drivel on the radio.
Up until the morning I saw what he was trying to learn in Japanese.
They were along the lines of: You have pretty breasts.
And: I like your buttocks.
Talk about lust in translation, eh?
