Kids these days are just so lucky. To crank up a paper, all they have to do is google what they need to know about ala-Becky Bloomwood and voila, they get several thousand hits at least.
On the internet, websites are usually helpful for some of the basic stuff you need to know. That is what the net is usually good for. Information at your fingertips at the speed of light. Well, practically.
But separating good material from fodder is another thing altogether.
Now, as in the olden days, to do good research, one must still sometimes wade through musty, dusty, moldy books in the library and even the archives.
In fact, when you find good material on Google it’s often just on preview. You still have to purchase the book. Sometimes you strike gold on the net but there’s still nothing like a good old fashioned book to impart a bit of knowledge.
After all, there is a big difference between cooking 2-minute noodles with ready-made sauce, and conjuring a delight using only the choicest, freshest ingredients, all cooked lovingly to gustatory perfection.
And once again, Virginia, you should know that Wikipedia shouldn’t be anywhere a freakin’ ponencia.
Facebook Badge
Monday, August 31, 2009
Thursday, August 27, 2009
FLOPSUCKS!
Last week, my daughter and I went to have lunch at the TechnoHb and decided to try a restaurant that belonged to a chain of restaurants that were among our favorites.
Shortly after we ordered, the waiter ventured that they had free wifi and promptly gave me the password.
However, I had difficulty connecting after re-typing the password and changing the airport configuration countless times.
After we had our lunch, the waiter solicitously inquired if I already successfully connected. No, I said.
I tried again while waiting for dessert. Still no luck.
Dessert came and went but still no wifi. The bill came and still nada.
So we just paid and left. And I thought that was that.
Days later, Dyosa and Makisig narrated to me how they were duped into spending a considerable amount in exchange for non-existent wifi.
Turns out that they went to Starbucks, found out there was no wifi and transferred to the resto.
I agree with Dyosa that the food was over-priced considering it wasn’t exceptional, only served in huge plates to create the impression that servings were generous.
But what riles me the most is the blatant misrepresentation.
Shame on you, bloody fakers!
Shortly after we ordered, the waiter ventured that they had free wifi and promptly gave me the password.
However, I had difficulty connecting after re-typing the password and changing the airport configuration countless times.
After we had our lunch, the waiter solicitously inquired if I already successfully connected. No, I said.
I tried again while waiting for dessert. Still no luck.
Dessert came and went but still no wifi. The bill came and still nada.
So we just paid and left. And I thought that was that.
Days later, Dyosa and Makisig narrated to me how they were duped into spending a considerable amount in exchange for non-existent wifi.
Turns out that they went to Starbucks, found out there was no wifi and transferred to the resto.
I agree with Dyosa that the food was over-priced considering it wasn’t exceptional, only served in huge plates to create the impression that servings were generous.
But what riles me the most is the blatant misrepresentation.
Shame on you, bloody fakers!
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
To Jam, My Princess
August 25, 2009
Dear Jam, my lovely Princess,
Today after bringing you to school, I walked around the academic oval seeing that it was a bright sunny day, so not like the ambivalent weather of the past few days, weeks even. I had to enjoy the walk even as I had to hurry back home to finish the laundry so the clothes would dry properly.
I purposefully left the iPod Shuffle and the iPhone so I could walk around and think while walking the sunken garden. It has been years since I have done that, just walking around once or twice around the academic oval with just my thoughts to accompany me.
I wanted to walk a mile (or 2 or so kilometers) in your shoes, trying to see how difficult it is for you without those earphones plugged into your ears all the time. And I realized how it may indeed be difficult for you, to be without the earphones stuck into your ears every single time.
I’m afraid we are turning into those cliche mother and daughters who fight over the most insignificant things in an endless battle of wills as I recall our argument earlier over your speech in Filipino.
I wish there were some manual or any sort of how-to guide to go through the coming difficult years. I know you promised me that you will never be like one of those teenagers in movies who yell and curse at their moms.
But your dagger looks and careless shrug feels far more difficult to deal with and hurtful than a slew of words hurled at me. At least if you were yelling at me you are least trying to communicate with me. Sort of.
You used to love having me kiss and hug you all the time. Now, you pull away instead whenever I wish to hug or kiss you, giving me a taste of the dismissive air that you so regularly bestow on your archenemy, Miggy. Please do not do that.
Jam, I wish there was some way I could tell you that your time is better used reading and doing more productive things than obsessing about your nails without you immediately retreating into your shell and your room to hide from me and rant into your journal.
Moms always want what is best for you whether kids agree or not. What I want for you may not what you think is best for you now. But years from now, when you have kids of your own, and probably a headstrong daughter such as you, you will realize that you should have given some thought into what I was trying to say to you instead of telling yourself immediately that you don’t care and you don’t want to listen.
Right now, there are three things I wish for you: (1) that you rediscover the joy of reading and the challenge of reading more enriching things such as the classics; (2) that you realize that your nails and your hair do not define you, rather the way you groom and how you carry yourself (and your table manners); (3) that sometimes there are more important things than instant gratification or immediately getting what you want when you want it.
I love you, Jam, my not so little Princess. Take care of yourself and enjoy your teen years with as little pain and strife as possible. So let us not sweat the small stuff but it is important to pay attention to the fine details. We are only passing through life once, so live and love like it’s our last day everyday.
Love forever,
Mom
Dear Jam, my lovely Princess,
Today after bringing you to school, I walked around the academic oval seeing that it was a bright sunny day, so not like the ambivalent weather of the past few days, weeks even. I had to enjoy the walk even as I had to hurry back home to finish the laundry so the clothes would dry properly.
I purposefully left the iPod Shuffle and the iPhone so I could walk around and think while walking the sunken garden. It has been years since I have done that, just walking around once or twice around the academic oval with just my thoughts to accompany me.
I wanted to walk a mile (or 2 or so kilometers) in your shoes, trying to see how difficult it is for you without those earphones plugged into your ears all the time. And I realized how it may indeed be difficult for you, to be without the earphones stuck into your ears every single time.
I’m afraid we are turning into those cliche mother and daughters who fight over the most insignificant things in an endless battle of wills as I recall our argument earlier over your speech in Filipino.
I wish there were some manual or any sort of how-to guide to go through the coming difficult years. I know you promised me that you will never be like one of those teenagers in movies who yell and curse at their moms.
But your dagger looks and careless shrug feels far more difficult to deal with and hurtful than a slew of words hurled at me. At least if you were yelling at me you are least trying to communicate with me. Sort of.
You used to love having me kiss and hug you all the time. Now, you pull away instead whenever I wish to hug or kiss you, giving me a taste of the dismissive air that you so regularly bestow on your archenemy, Miggy. Please do not do that.
Jam, I wish there was some way I could tell you that your time is better used reading and doing more productive things than obsessing about your nails without you immediately retreating into your shell and your room to hide from me and rant into your journal.
Moms always want what is best for you whether kids agree or not. What I want for you may not what you think is best for you now. But years from now, when you have kids of your own, and probably a headstrong daughter such as you, you will realize that you should have given some thought into what I was trying to say to you instead of telling yourself immediately that you don’t care and you don’t want to listen.
Right now, there are three things I wish for you: (1) that you rediscover the joy of reading and the challenge of reading more enriching things such as the classics; (2) that you realize that your nails and your hair do not define you, rather the way you groom and how you carry yourself (and your table manners); (3) that sometimes there are more important things than instant gratification or immediately getting what you want when you want it.
I love you, Jam, my not so little Princess. Take care of yourself and enjoy your teen years with as little pain and strife as possible. So let us not sweat the small stuff but it is important to pay attention to the fine details. We are only passing through life once, so live and love like it’s our last day everyday.
Love forever,
Mom
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
