Jaywalker is a young "entrepreneur", student, atheist, debate addict movie buff, "artist" etc etc
Jaywalker likes wrapping himself in a veil of anonymity
because he thinks girls like cryptic guys also so he can write anything he wants
in his journal. Jaywalker is intent on world domination. He is currently taking
cute little baby steps towards that end by selling laptops.
Jaywalker has a crush on himself but is not gay (see masturbation argument)
He fancies calling himself empire builder because he has plans of building one and because he loves feeding his ego. He likes writing in the third person perspective because he thinks it's "cool" that way. Jaywalker grew up in a cave so his small talk IQ is -130. He tries to hide this deficiency by acting snobbish or downright rude but he's actually very nice deep down inside.
Maybe it's about time that i formally close this particular category of my blog so as not to confuse people. First, i'm by no means young anymore. second, I"ve lost steam. I can't motivate myself anymore. Must be the age
Note that i'm only closing the category not the blog. I'll still be posting random ramblings here. i'll probably be updating my other blog more often though
I can’t remember how many people have told me that when on my deathbed, I will want to believe in an afterlife. I haven’t crossed that road yet but Immortality is not something that I particularly feel is necessary for my existence, at least not in the same way that theists do. Sometimes I’m not even sure if I want immortality. The way my life is going right now, I don’t think I even want to make it past 30. But that’s a topic for another entry.
Whether I want immortality or not is irrelevant though. I don’t think that wanting immortality is sufficient reason to believe in an afterlife the same way that wanting to get a Canon 1Ds Mark III on Christmas is not sufficient reason to believe in Santa. So I don’t think I will want to believe in a spiritual afterlife when I’m on my deathbed. Besides if one’s rationale for belief should rest solely on one’s fear of death then wouldn’t it be more realistic to hope for drugs that would increase human lifespan indefinitely or future technology that could recreate the consciousness of people who have already died? Far fetched as they are, they still are a more realistic take on immortality than believing that you have a soul and it would detach itself from your body at the time of your death and go to a place called heaven where people get to live happily ever after. The concept to me seems childish and if I were dying and wanted false hope then I’d rather believe that I’ll be recreated someday in a computer. But as I always say, to each, his own. The comfort provided by religion to those who are grieving is unden(Read More)
The internet has become a record keeper for all sorts of personal information, from the most trivial to the most intimate. Wittingly or unwittingly, almost everybody has left a left a trace on the internet open for google to find. If a person mattered then there might be an article created for him/her by those whose lives he/she has affected Or he might be a subject of an entire article on wikipedia if he affected the lives of a lot of people. If a person wants to matter then he may create a dent on the internet himself by creating a blog like the one you’re reading right now.
Every year, my family gathers in a small patch of land somewhere within the forest of crosses and tombstones of manila north cemetery to commemorate the life of a person we lost 11 years ago. Her name was Catherine. We called her Cathy. She was the 2nd youngest of us four siblings.
She had a lot of things going for her. She was pretty, she was smart, she was studious and she had the gift of gab. She was too young to have decided on a career path but my mother used to suggest to her a lot that she be a dermatologist (I think she had expressed some interest in the idea as well). One, because it’s a lucrative career. It’s common knowledge that dermatologists are professionally trained to suck every peso out of their clients’ wallet. Two, so she could cure her own skin problems.
She had a lot of infectious and unique mannerisms. I think she started the trend of babytalking in the family. Both of my other sisters do it now quite extensively. She also was into the habit of inventing words. A habit which I think I may have picked up from her. Whenever she would watch TV, she had this weird mannerism where she’d face the tv sideways and she’d watch from the corner of her eye. Whenever I would try to access an image of her from my memory, the image of her watching tv always stands out as the clearest. It’s funny how the habits that I used to think were annoying are the ones that I remember the most.
She was born on the 6th of December, 1984. She succumbed to asthma on the night of September 17, 1997. She was just about to turn 13. I remember waking up to the sound of commotion. My mother was panicking and cathy’s struggle was quite audible. My parents tried to calm her down (because stress would just aggravate her asthma) and then they rushed her to the hospital I tried to ignore it but at the back of my mind, I had a very strong feeling that she wasn’t going to make it. I also had suffered from severe asthma attacks in my youth and I knew the feeling of fighting for every breath to the point where you feel like you don’t want to anymore.
It was like drowning but, in some ways, more torturous. When you’re drowning, your ordeal would just last for about 10 or so mins and then you’d pass out and die. My worst asthma attacks lasted for almost a month and the apex would last up to 5 days, during which I’d be bedridden and any attempt at exertion would leave me close to losing consciousness. I saw what she went through and I knew that it was worse than anything I had ever experienced. That night, before my parents rushed her to the hospital, I heard her say “ayoko na” (I don’t want to anymore)
I think the call came at around midnight. I think It was my mother who delivered the news. I remember vague details about what happened exactly. My youngest sister was playing jackstone. I was on my bed. I don’t remember the exact sequence of events but I think I slept again after I heard the news. Maybe because I wanted to wake up and realize that it was all just a bad dream or maybe because I wasn’t quite sure how I would react yet and I wanted to postpone it till morning.
It was strange because I felt sad but I didn’t feel as sad as I expected to be. I got a bit teary eyed but I don’t remember crying. The full impact of what happened didn’t catch up with me till much later.
I used to call her “bispringe” (bestfriend). Cathy and I were quite close when we were much younger but we weren’t in good terms when she passed away. I think we weren’t speaking for more than a year. It was a long time ago so ¬I don’t exactly remember what started our fight but I remember calling her “ketong” (leper). Cathy had allergic dermatitis which caused certain areas of her skin to form scabs. We were calling each other names at the time. She brought up some of my insecurities so I thought it was a fair trade. But of course it wasn’t and it was really insensitive of me. She cried so to say that she was affected would probably be an understatement. I never got to say sorry. We never got to make up.
She was already a young lady when she passed away but my clearest mental image of her is when she was much younger, when we were still quite close. She didn’t have a lot of pictures in her latter months and we didn’t get to interact much so it’s hard for me to remember clearly what she looked like. I remember that she grew her hair longer, her skin improved and she got slimmer. (she was chubby when she was younger) but it’s hard for me to assemble a full picture in my head. There’s very little to remember her by.
I never got to know what kind of life she got to live in her latter months. She kept a diary but due to a misdirected gesture of sentimentality, we never got to read it and we never will. Her thoughts and secrets were buried with her literally.
She passed away before the internet went mainstream here in the philippines. She never had a friendster profile, no myspace, no facebook, no blog. You won’t find any picture of her online. There’s no record of her thoughts, no record of her hobbies, her favorite movie, no record of whether her status was “single”, “in a relationship” or “it’s complicated” when she passed. No information about her will appear in any google search.
There is no significant record of her existence outside the memories of her immediate friends and family. I’m not even sure if her friends still remember her. She may just be a tiny speck of memory to them now. All we have left of her are the very few pictures that she left us and memories that get more and more vague as time passes.
When I first created this blog, I wanted it to be a shrine to me. A record of my existence that exists outside of the people who know me. A depository of my thoughts at different stages of my life that I (or anyone interested) can look back to someday. It doesn’t matter if anyone cares to read it. It’s for me.
I write this entry now for her so that the memory of who she was would not just exist in our heads and in our old photo albums. So that if you’d search for her name, it would appear somewhere within the deep recesses of google. As a record that she existed and that she mattered! …a humble shrine to her existence and an apology that is 11 years overdue. It doesn’t matter if anyone finds it or cares to find it, it’s for her.
Her name was Catherine and this is her online memorial(Read More)
This is a temporary blog post to let people know that this blog and its author are still alive. I didn’t realize that It’s been almost 2 months since my last update. I’ve been lazy
Also, If you don’t see me online very often, it’s not because I’m avoiding you. It’s because of my quarter-life-crisis-triggered, 3 week long depression compounded by my newfound addiction to youtube. I rarely log in to ym nowadays. It’s hard to find time to interact with people and update your blog if you’re busy appreciating the finer points of being emo while watching dozens of 20-minute long youtube videos back to back
Anyway, my hiatus is now over I think. Expect another entry bashing Filipino culture and an entry entitled “why I would prefer a world with religion” within the next few days.
In totally unrelated news, my hair is now long enough to be tied at the back. Here’s a pic of me with my hair tied behind my back
Here’s a picture of the moon that I took with my el-cheapo 75-300mm lens
In keeping up with the spirit of randomness, I will now show you a video of me playing the guitar.
Also, check this out, it’s the song from my sassy girl. This jaywalker, what a sissy boy
My new blog about babes, gadgets, games and manly stuff in general
Picture is mine so don't use it without my permission k?
I have another blog. The blog will be about, as the title might suggest, babes, gadgets, games and other stuff that may interest the modern man. there will also be tips on how to be a manly man.
This is probably the last subject you’d expect to read about in this blog, given the author’s impeccable manliness. I’ve given a lot of tips to my male readers. Tips on how to be a proper man, on how not to be a sissy and anything concerning the man code in general…. but I know that I also have a lot of female (and female at heart) readers and it would be an atrocity if I didn’t also give them tips as well.
So to the aforementioned group of readers, are you looking to better enhance your aesthetic appeal? Do you have sensitive skin and are conventional cosmetic products too harsh for you? Well then let me point you to liz’s blog, She’s selling mineral make-up directly imported from the US. What’s mineral make up, you say? Mineral make up is made of natural ingredients that won’t irritate your skin. It also lasts longer and the colors are more vivid.
Give it a try. Liz is selling them at a very reasonable price so you can test it first without burning a hole through your pocket. It is a well known fact in the Philippine blogosphere that Liz is an authority on everything make-up related so when she says that a product is good, it is good
“What is the meaning of life?” The question has been pondered about by countless philosophers for centuries. It makes me wonder why… because I think it’s a pointless question. But I don’t think the question is pointless because I think that life has no meaning. I think it’s pointless because the question assumes that there should be a general standard for meaning and that it has to be defined external to the person asking the question.
There was a commercial before by the World wildlife foundation which I found to be a bit intellectually substandard. The commercial was about wildlife conservation. I don’t remember the exact words, so I will paraphrase: “It is perhaps the greatest question man has ever asked. We know that plankton exist to feed the whales, we know that zebra exist to feed the lions, we know that (insert species here) for (insert species here). What about us? What is our purpose?
I didn’t like the commercial for a variety of reasons. One, because it states that the inane question “what is our purpose” is the greatest question man has ever asked. Two, because it seems to assume that there is a universal purpose for why we are all here
From a lion’s perspective, a zebra’s purpose may be to satisfy its hunger. But from the zebra’s perspective, the purpose of its existence may be to get through life without satisfying the lion’s hunger. Purpose comes from either the lion’s or the zebra’s intent to achieve its own respective goals -Goals that are diametrically opposed to each other.
One may say that the purpose of fire is to give us warmth or to heat our food. But fire didn’t come into existence to serve man. Fire existed and then man found purpose for it. But that purpose only exists to those with minds to see benefit from fire. From fire’s perspective, it doesn’t care what man does to it. Fire itself has no intrinsic purpose for existence except for the subjective interpretations of purpose that man assigns to it.
“What is the meaning of life?” The question has been pondered about by countless philosophers for centuries. It makes me wonder why… because I think it’s a pointless question. But I don’t think the question is pointless because I think that life has no meaning. I think it’s pointless because the question assumes that there should be a general standard for meaning and that it has to be defined external to the person asking the question. 
