I really liked this old post, so I am reposting it. Turned out that my predictions were really accurate (I was 21 when I posted this).
gals at their birthdays:
1st day:
everyone look at me!!
3rd birthday:
am i pretty?
4th:
hey its my birthday today!
9th:
i want to grow up, taller!! prettier!!
12th:
approaching... btw, anyone noticed its my birthday?
16th:
i am young and vibrant!!
17th:
ONE MORE YEAR TO GO!! on second thoughts...
18th:
Is it here already?! the prime age!! oh god... i am getting old.
19th:
well, i am still 18.
21st:
young AND mature!! and woe betide the next guy who says otherwise.
22nd:
its quite fine with me if most ppl forgot its my bday today actually.
23rd:
sigh...
25th:
guess its time to get married... before the wrinkles set in.
27th:
its the kids!!
30th:
i'll silenced anyone who knows my REAL age.
34th:
i think the guy who said i looked 21 really meant it!!
boys at their birthdays:
1st day:
i cry, therefore i am.
4th birthday:
think i'll beat that punk at sch today, since it's MY day.
5th:
better not try that this year.
7th:
woa... i want those muscles.
12th:
when do i get them? the gals are slipping away already!!
17th:
no one remembers my birthday... oh well, WE guys are not supposed to complain about that.
18th:
crap... the gals are supposed to be at their best age. they are already acting like they are older than us. i dun even notice any difference in them.
21st:
NOW its my turn... muahahaa.. watch and weep!!!
22nd:
still single.
24th:
hey, are the gals getting prettier, or are my expectations lowering?
28th:
still feel the same... IC says otherwise. exercise exercise!!
31st:
oh boy... i am 31st? is that supposed to be old or prime?
35th:
the kid called me uncle?!!
40th:
that kid greeted me today, nice boy.
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Friday, March 23, 2007
epitaph
Herein lies a number of my chess pieces, lost as of this date, perhaps irretrievably:
2 black
3 white
2 black
3 white
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Fantasy
He surveys the scene before him. He seems to be in an enclosed room, devoid of any furnishings; even the walls are drab gray. The room is huge, roughly circular in shape, though the walls run straight and meet each other at large angles. There is no apparent light source but there is light in the room, enabling him to see. It seems slightly pale, as though the light is filtered through some badly scratched glass, bringing no cheer with it.
There are a number of doors in the walls, all shut now, the shape of the room making them hard to count exactly how many they are. A host of creatures had tried to come through some of these doors, previously opened, and he has no idea how long he fought before finally driving all of them out and closing the doors once again after them. The room looks like a battlefield now, with spots of red scattered amidst the thick dust on the floor, and scuffles of footprints everywhere, the air slightly cloying--sweet perhaps from the blood. The man pants slightly, adding drops of sweat to the dirt on the floor.
Crossing the room in huge steps, he hurries to lock the doors with a set of keys he has with him, all save one. He pauses at the last one and examines it. The doors are slightly translucent, all fashioned in such a way that they can only be be opened from within. Curiosity had led him to open some of the doors previously, leading to the unexpected struggles that ended just minutes ago. He can still see some of the creatures milling outside the room through the translucent material of the doors. After a moment, he decides that he need not lock this particular door: nothing could come through this door anyway, he reflects wryly.
He returns to the center of the room, as far away from the doors as he could tell, trying to catch his breath. Soon, he knows all too well, boredom will lead him to open one of the doors again. Such is the curse of this stone prison.
There are a number of doors in the walls, all shut now, the shape of the room making them hard to count exactly how many they are. A host of creatures had tried to come through some of these doors, previously opened, and he has no idea how long he fought before finally driving all of them out and closing the doors once again after them. The room looks like a battlefield now, with spots of red scattered amidst the thick dust on the floor, and scuffles of footprints everywhere, the air slightly cloying--sweet perhaps from the blood. The man pants slightly, adding drops of sweat to the dirt on the floor.
Crossing the room in huge steps, he hurries to lock the doors with a set of keys he has with him, all save one. He pauses at the last one and examines it. The doors are slightly translucent, all fashioned in such a way that they can only be be opened from within. Curiosity had led him to open some of the doors previously, leading to the unexpected struggles that ended just minutes ago. He can still see some of the creatures milling outside the room through the translucent material of the doors. After a moment, he decides that he need not lock this particular door: nothing could come through this door anyway, he reflects wryly.
He returns to the center of the room, as far away from the doors as he could tell, trying to catch his breath. Soon, he knows all too well, boredom will lead him to open one of the doors again. Such is the curse of this stone prison.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
Let's work our brains a bit
Betrand Russell came up with this paradox (in my own words):
In a town, a barber shaves all and only those who don't shave themselves.
Is there anything wrong with this scenario? Sounds rather normal actually, doesn't it? Well, let us ask, however, if the barber shaves himself. Suppose that he does. It certainly makes sense to say the barber shaves himself, since he saves money that way without having to go to another barber.
But, wait a minute. So the barber shaves himself? Yet it is said that the barber shaves all and only those who don't shave themselves! If the barber shaves himself, he doesn't qualify under the set of people who don't shave themselves. So the barber can't shave himself!
Alright, not a problem. We'll just restrain the barber from shaving himself, on pains of committing a paradox. So the barber doesn't shave himself.
But wait again! Did you just say that the barber doesn't shave himself? Well then, he qualifies now under the set of people who don't shave themselves! And according to what is stated, he has to shave himself, since he shaves all and only those people who don't shave themselves, which includes himself!
But if he shaves himself, then he cannot shave himself.
If he cannot shave himself, then he has to shave himself.
A paradox! So does the damn barber shaves himself or not?!
Well, simple. This barber doesn't exist. He is a walking paradox. There is no trick in this analysis, other than being vague to leave out the technicalities. Some food for thought huh?
In a town, a barber shaves all and only those who don't shave themselves.
Is there anything wrong with this scenario? Sounds rather normal actually, doesn't it? Well, let us ask, however, if the barber shaves himself. Suppose that he does. It certainly makes sense to say the barber shaves himself, since he saves money that way without having to go to another barber.
But, wait a minute. So the barber shaves himself? Yet it is said that the barber shaves all and only those who don't shave themselves! If the barber shaves himself, he doesn't qualify under the set of people who don't shave themselves. So the barber can't shave himself!
Alright, not a problem. We'll just restrain the barber from shaving himself, on pains of committing a paradox. So the barber doesn't shave himself.
But wait again! Did you just say that the barber doesn't shave himself? Well then, he qualifies now under the set of people who don't shave themselves! And according to what is stated, he has to shave himself, since he shaves all and only those people who don't shave themselves, which includes himself!
But if he shaves himself, then he cannot shave himself.
If he cannot shave himself, then he has to shave himself.
A paradox! So does the damn barber shaves himself or not?!
Well, simple. This barber doesn't exist. He is a walking paradox. There is no trick in this analysis, other than being vague to leave out the technicalities. Some food for thought huh?
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Such is life
We complain about life,
yet we spent countless afternoons waiting for evenings to come,
whiling our mornings away in bed just cause there is nothing else to do
fretting over what other people think and say about you
and worrying about what people do not say about you
counting the years past and estimating the years ahead, mourning the shortness of life
mulling about who loves you and who to love
engage in activities that we don't seem to like, but seem right to do
considering our emotions, some of which coming from being unable to fathom our emotions
looking at the clock so that we can safely say the day is past and time for sleep
playing rpg while life plays you as rpg
Then at the end of it, we say, as a matter of custom
that life is too short;
whilst in the meantime, life is meaningless.
I need more.
So much more, that I don't have to consider what life is.
yet we spent countless afternoons waiting for evenings to come,
whiling our mornings away in bed just cause there is nothing else to do
fretting over what other people think and say about you
and worrying about what people do not say about you
counting the years past and estimating the years ahead, mourning the shortness of life
mulling about who loves you and who to love
engage in activities that we don't seem to like, but seem right to do
considering our emotions, some of which coming from being unable to fathom our emotions
looking at the clock so that we can safely say the day is past and time for sleep
playing rpg while life plays you as rpg
Then at the end of it, we say, as a matter of custom
that life is too short;
whilst in the meantime, life is meaningless.
I need more.
So much more, that I don't have to consider what life is.
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