Independence Day Post: I am JUST Doing My Job
Posted onJune 12, 2009
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Before this post starts to take shape and breathe life, first, I would like to greet all Filipinos out there (OK even non-natives, as long as you feel like celebrating it with us) a belated Happy Independence Day. (I just felt like a pageant contestant about to answer a hard question after saying that…)
Any National occasion, may it be Rizal’s day or Araw ng Kagitingan, always gets me sentimental. Well, not in the mushy-teary-eyed emotard kind of way, but in a fiery-”makibaka”-nationalistic rage-in-full-conviction mode. That’s why I decided to write this the day after our Independence Day celebration. I had to calm myself first so I would not be chanting “Ibagsak…” while typing.
It could be that my nationalism has been magnified because I am out of the country. This hunch supports the recent unimaginable events of my life last December. I, shamefully, turned out to be such a Holiday wuss. I cried watching Tagalog Xmas songs on YouTube! I guess this is just one of the follies that most of the OFWs uncontrollably commit.
And so they say we, OFWs, are the Bagong Bayani. I SHOUT, we are NOT. Citing OFWs as the modern day heroes is downright dirty mockery of the heroism exercised by the likes of Bonifacio.
We are working abroad not because of the love for our country. We cry silently, in a fetal position, or for some maybe even in the act of making snow angels with arms and legs wildly flailing, during lonely nights not because we seek a change for the Philippines. We are here, in other lands, because of many different reasons. And I assure you, heroism is not in our list.
We are here because we want to earn more. We are here because of our families. We are here because we want to see the world. We are here because we want to achieve a level of professional maturity. We are here because of varied personal reasons.
We are here because. Just because. We did not come here, bearing in our minds, that we are the ones to revive the Philippines nor it is our responsibility to buoy it out from slimy deep sh*t.
And please don’t start talking about remittance. I’ll either poke your eyes out or just stare at you, with my jaws dropped that normally signals a big ROTFLMAOLOLOLOLOL is coming
your way.
Heroism is just too big and too heavy to be put on the shoulders of OFWs. Looking at it that way is much more stressful since Cebu Pacific even lowered their allowed luggage weight from 20 to 15kgs. And you dare ask us to add heroism to that!
What I am trying to say is, I am not a hero. I am just a Filipino guy working abroad. I am here to work and the benefits I reap from it justify all the personal reasons I had before coming here. And I think, every Filipino should just do the same. We should stop looking at people and seeing them bigger than who they really are. We should also stop pretending to be heroes or hail another Filipino who is just doing his job to our exclusive legion of Filipino idols. We should cut our hope that a Filipino messiah will come and deliver us from all our problems. We simply just have to act. I believe, every little typical labour that we do, however un-hero like it may be, as long as it is done in good faith and to the best of our abilities, is the key to achieve that National stability we’ve been longing for all our lives.
So I say, let us celebrate our Independence by just doing our job.
YES I CAN
Posted onMarch 31, 2009
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My current life revolves around work, sleeping, Internet, occasional trips around this bland city, voluntary writing and the gym. It seems OK, but not entirely. The time I allotted for writing greatly diminished, which was very unfortunate: it was both work’s fault and mine.
I used to plan my writing themes. If I weren’t doing a theme, it would be a writing challenge. If it was not a challenge [to my writing flexibility], it’s certainly out of sheer passion and insight. All of these, I lost.
Work was a given. Mass production of the software I was working on came up, and January until March were understandably the peak months. The other half of the reason (points index finger to my pug nose) reasons out that there was just nothing to write about. There was absolutely no inspiration, no light-bulb moment, no stimuli, na da!
I am a creative writer. I always wished I could be satirical, philosophical even. I even clap whenever I get to read a really good assessment of politics or economy by common bloggers. How I envy them for having a stand at any issue! This would have been a great resource of material, considering all the news happening around the globe everyday. BUT I cannot do it (I never tried, I don’t even know where to start). I am usually one of the townsmen who listen to the firm speaker in the stage. I am the shadowed crowd that is unseen by the significant person in the podium, him being blinded by the immense spotlight upon him. I am the audience, never the analyst, in the political and economic arena of writing.
I blame this country! I walk her clean streets and there’s nothing there. No beggar who could possibly arouse a little drama, just enough for me to concoct a moving story. No filth, no scum to be mad about that will surely, as cheap as it may sound, end up as a bitter rant. Public commuting doesn’t help either. The people I see inside the trains are faceless. And when they talk, I don’t understand what they are saying (blame it to their Mandarin, Hindi or Bahasa Indonesian), which is very essential since that’s where I get back-stories, from eavesdropping.
I have recently added a new activity to my life. I thought this would provide at least a bit of writing input and boy, I am very wrong. It made all my muscles work (and ache) except for my brain. How can you be intellectual when all your mind can shout is “1, 2, 3, …” or “Bem, 5 more reps, ok, 4 more…” or “15 minutes to go in this damned treadmill”. For the sake of discussion, imagine that the human body can never get tired, and you chose to spend 9 hours a day working out, I conclude you’ll end up a BIG (with this I mean really muscular), DUMB, DUNCE.
Looking back at my blog posts, I can say that I have posted 5 articles that didn’t even need my neurons working. And that is really bad. My inner self is currently reasoning out:
“Hey Bem, you’ve been writing a book too”!
But Bee[a codename for myself] we both know that I’ve also stopped with that early March.
This has got to end I’ll borrow Rose’s line from Titanic, “This is ABSURD”. Thanks Rose, really absurd.
My creativity dwindled and I have got to save that small spark left. I know I can.
YES I CAN!
CAMWHORE
Posted onMarch 31, 2009
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Forgive me for I succumbed to camwhoring for a day.
Worse part of it was I did it wearing a white wife beater (FYI, that’s an English term for “sando”).
I was just so proud of my new Ultra-zoom camera. Yes, just an Ultra-zoom, not THE DSLR, Basically, there have been some silent BUT recognizable hatred to new DSLR owners. They say some of them are just buying it because it’s the IN thing. Honestly, I don’t give a damn, I just don’t have the budget for it. Mwehehe. So I settled for the mid range digicam!
Here are some of the pictures of my new camera. And me. Pfffttt. Hahahaha.
Disclaimer:
1. The following scenes may be too graphic for most of the viewers. Discretion is greatly advised.
2. The following pictures may cause photosensitive epilepsy so view them at your own risk.
3. Not for children! Parents will be jailed if they let their kids see the following pictures!
4. Uhmm, I am running out of disclaimers so here are the pics…
TA DAAA…
It’s the FUJIFILM S2000HD. It boasts the letters HD because you can capture High Definition videos with it. Just one of the many cool features of this camera. I won’t go into details about it’s specifications, there’s always the friendly neighborhood Google ready to help you.
PS
Sorry for the crappy background. Yeah that’s my room.
And no, I am not part of any modelling agency… not yet. I don’t think I am ready for a go-see. Haha.
Interesting Facts About Me
Posted onMarch 31, 2009
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The Truth About Bemben
Bemben once visited the Virgin Islands. They are now The Islands.
Some kids piss their name in the snow. Bemben can piss his name into concrete.
Leading hand sanitizers claim they can kill 99.9 percent of germs. Bemben can kill 100 percent of whatever the fack he wants.
Bemben counted to infinity - twice.
Bemben’s tears cure cancer. Too bad he has never cried.
Bemben’s calendar goes straight from March 31st to April 2nd; no one fools Bemben.
Bemben does not sleep. He waits.
Bemben can speak braille.
Once, while having sex in a tractor-trailer, part of Bemben’s sperm escaped and got into the engine. We now know this truck as Optimus Prime.
Bemben puts the “laughter” in “manslaughter”.
Bemben once won a game of Connect Four in 3 moves.
Bemben owns the greatest Poker Face of all-time. It helped him win the 1983 World Series of Poker despite him holding just a Joker, a Get out of Jail Free Monopoly card, a 2 of clubs, 7 of spades and a green #4 card from the game Uno.
Bemben doesn’t cheat death. He wins fair and square.
Bemben can do a wheelie on a unicycle.
On a high school math test, Bemben put down “Violence” as every one of the answers. He got an A+ on the test because Bemben solves all his problems with Violence.
Bemben can delete the Recycling Bin.
If you spell Bemben wrong on Google it doesn’t say, “Did you mean Bemben?” It simply replies, “Run while you still have the chance.”
When the Bogeyman goes to sleep every night he checks his closet for Bemben.
Once a cobra bit Bemben’s leg. After five days of excruciating pain, the cobra died.
Bemben died ten years ago, but the Grim Reaper can’t get up the courage to tell him.
Bemben was originally cast as the main character in 24, but was replaced by the producers when he managed to kill every terrorist and save the day in 12 minutes and 37 seconds.
Bemben does not hunt because the word hunting implies the possibility of failure. Bemben goes killing.
Bemben can slam revolving doors.
If it looks like chicken, tastes like chicken, and feels like chicken but Bemben says its beef, then it’s f*cking beef.
Bemben runs Windows Vista on his Etch-a-Sketch.
Giraffes were created when Bemben uppercutted a horse.
Superman owns a pair of Bemben pajamas.
Bemben doesn’t read books. He stares them down until he gets the information he wants.
Bemben sleeps with a night light. Not because Bemben is afraid of the dark, but the dark is afraid of Bemben
Bemben secretly sleeps with every woman in the world once a month. They bleed for a week as a result.
Bemben sold his soul to the devil for his rugged good looks and unparalleled martial arts ability. Shortly after the transaction was finalized, Bem roundhouse kicked the devil in the face and took his soul back. The devil, who appreciates irony, couldn’t stay mad and admitted he should have seen it coming. They now play poker every second Wednesday of the month.
Bemben can kill two stones with one bird.
When Bemben gives you the finger, he’s telling you how many seconds you have left to live.
Bemben’s dog is trained to pick up his own poop because Bemben will not take sh*t from anyone.
Bemben was once on Celebrity Wheel of Fortune and was the first to spin. The next 29 minutes of the show consisted of everyone standing around awkwardly, waiting for the wheel to stop.
If you play Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven” backwards, you will hear Bemben banging your sister.
Bemben doesn’t have hair on his testicles, because hair does not grow on steel.
Death once had a near-Bemben experience.
Bemben is the only person on the planet that can kick you in the back of the face.
Bemben is always on top during sex because Bemben never f*cks up.
Bill Gates lives in constant fear that Bemben’s PC will crash.
Ghosts are actually caused by Bemben killing people faster than Death can process them.
Bemben doesn’t pop his collar, his shirts just get erections when they touch his body.
The best part of waking up is not Starbucks in your cup, but knowing that Bemben didn’t kill you in your sleep.
Bemben can have both feet on the ground and kick ass at the same time.
Bemben was once charged with three attempted murdered in Makati, but the Judge quickly dropped the charges because Bemben does not “attempt” murder.
Bemben can strangle you with a cordless phone.
Bemben can play the violin with a piano
Bemben eats the core of an apple first.
Bemben never retreats, he just attacks in the opposite direction.
Bemben can build a snowman out of rain.
M.C. Hammer learned the hard way that Bemben can touch this.
Bemben plays Russian roulette with a fully loaded revolver… and wins.
Bemben once punched a man in the soul.
The reason newborn babies cry is because they know they have just entered a world with Bemben.
Bemben can drown a fish.
Bemben can squeeze orange juice out of a lemon
Bemben likes to knit sweaters in his free time. And by “knit”, I mean “kick”, and by “sweaters”, I mean “babies”.
When Bemben looks in a mirror the mirror shatters, because not even glass is stupid enough to get in between Bemben and Bemben.
Bemben is not hung like a horse… horses are hung like Bemben
Bemben once had a heart attack; his heart lost.
It is considered a great accomplishment to go down Niagara Falls in a wooden barrel. Bemben can go up Niagara Falls in a cardboard box.
When Bemben enters a room, he doesn’t turn the lights on, he turns the dark off.
Jack was nimble, Jack was quick, but Jack still couldn’t dodge Bemben’s roundhouse kick.
The only time Bemben was wrong was when he thought he had made a mistake.
Bemben once bowled a 300. Without a ball. He wasn’t even in a bowling alley.
In 1991, Bemben shot a 14 on an 18 hole golf course, falling short of his personal best by 2 strokes.
A Handicap parking sign does not signify that this spot is for handicapped people. It is actually in fact a warning, that the spot belongs to Bemben and that you will be handicapped if you park there.
Bemben can make a paraplegic run for his life.
The last digit of pi is Bemben. He is the end of all things.
Bemben doesn’t need a miracle in order to split the ocean. He just walks in and the water gets the f*ck out of the way.
The chief export of Bemben is pain.
Bemben can create a rock so heavy that even he can’t lift it. And then he lifts it anyways, just to show you who the f*ck Bemben is.
The quickest way to a man’s heart is with Bemben’ss fist.
Bemben can tie his shoes with his feet.
Bemben does not know where you live, but he knows where you will die.
Bemben is the only person that can punch a cyclops between the eye.
Bemben cannot predict the future; the future just better f*cking do what Bemben says.
Bemben doesn’t play “hide-and-seek.” He plays “hide-and-pray-I-don’t-find-you.”
Bemben was originally offered the role as Frodo in Lord of the Rings. He declined because, “Only a fag would need three movies to destroy a piece of jewelery.”
Bemben once had an erection while lying face down and struck oil.
If you can see Bemben, he can see you. If you can’t see Bemben you may be only seconds away from death.
Bemben used to beat the sh*t out of his shadow because it was following to close. It now stands a safe 30 feet behind him.
Most men are okay with their wives fantasizing about Bemben during sex, because they are doing the same thing.
Upon hearing that his good friend, Lance Armstrong, lost his testicles to cancer, Bemben donated one of his to Lance. With just one of Bem’s nuts, Lance was able to win the Tour De France seven times. By the way, Bemben still has two testicles; either he was able to produce a new one simply by flexing, or he had three to begin with. No one knows for sure.
*** OK OK OK. I just got this from somebody’s post and replaced all the names. Yes the name should have been THE CHUCK NORRIS. But you can try Sam Milby as well. It’s freaking the same! 
I Think I am Starting to Look Like a Singaporean
Posted onJanuary 28, 2009
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I was fixing myself up in the locker room right after a routine gym session. I was looking at myself in the mirror when suddenly, I noticed something. I think I am starting to look like a Singaporean.
*ULCK*
Yesterday, the cashier in Fair Price talked to me in Chinese. I think she asked me if I am a member (a store promotion for the frequent buyers of that grocery store). Usually they only say, “Membah?” but yesterday was different. I answered using my neutrally accented English to emphasize that I cannot understand Chinese, and yet, she kept on telling me the price of all my items in her dialect. Good thing I used my ATM card to pay. I just smiled at her and left.
*ULCK*
Earlier, I cooked Ginataang Alimasag for lunch. I already added the gata and most of the vegetables when I realized that I have no sili. I wanted to just finish the cooking without it but my mother’s voice kept on ringing in my ear (When I was at Fair Price, I called her to ask for the recipe) so I decided to go down and buy in the Hawker station directly in front of our block. I found some “Siling Haba” and picked 3 and asked Auntie if I can buy as few as that. She looked at me and added 2 more pieces. She packed it inside a sheet of newspaper and handed it to me. Then she told me the price, and yeah, you guessed it, she was speaking in Chinese again. I told her I couldn’t understand but she just kept on repeating the price, which sadly, I can only remember that the word starts with the letter “L”. Next, a light bulb moment! I opened my coin purse and show her the contents, I was confident the sili would only cost a few cents. So she picked up a 20 cents coin, showed it directly to me and repeated the “L” word. It was funny because it reminded me of pre school teachers showing fruits like apples to sniveling children and repeating “A-P-P-L-E” a thousand times for the children to get it right. But yeah, this incident doesn’t count since I think Auntie knows no English at all. So I think it is clear to her that I am not Singaporean.
*ULCK*
Maybe it’s only my over working brain which is giving me the idea that I am starting to look like a local. I need to do some relaxation, maybe go to spa lah!
*DOUBLE ULCK*
TIME Magazine’s 100 All-Time Best Novels
Posted onJanuary 28, 2009
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I don’t usually post copy pasted material here but hey, here’s some good books you can check out.
So, how many have you read from the list so far? 
Err… I’d rather look for these titles than those referred by Oprah.
The Complete List
In Alphabetical Order
1. The Adventures of Augie March
Saul Bellow
2. All the King’s Men
Robert Penn Warren
3. American Pastoral
Philip Roth
4. An American Tragedy
Theodore Dreiser
5. Animal Farm
George Orwell
6. Appointment in Samarra
John O’Hara
7. Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret
Judy Blume
8. The Assistant
Bernard Malamud
9. At Swim-Two-Birds
Flann O’Brien
10. Atonement
Ian McEwan
11. Beloved
Toni Morrison
12. The Berlin Stories
Christopher Isherwood
13. The Big Sleep
Raymond Chandler
14. The Blind Assassin
Margaret Atwood
15. Blood Meridian
Cormac McCarthy
16. Brideshead Revisited
Evelyn Waugh
17. The Bridge of San Luis Rey
Thornton Wilder
18. Call It Sleep
Henry Roth
19. Catch-22
Joseph Heller
20. The Catcher in the Rye
J.D. Salinger
21. A Clockwork Orange
Anthony Burgess
22. The Confessions of Nat Turner
William Styron
23. The Corrections
Jonathan Franzen
24. The Crying of Lot 49
Thomas Pynchon
25. A Dance to the Music of Time
Anthony Powell
26. The Day of the Locust
Nathanael West
27. Death Comes for the Archbishop
Willa Cather
28. A Death in the Family
James Agee
29. The Death of the Heart
Elizabeth Bowen
30. Deliverance
James Dickey
31. Dog Soldiers
Robert Stone
32. Falconer
John Cheever
33. The French Lieutenant’s Woman
John Fowles
34. The Golden Notebook
Doris Lessing
35. Go Tell it on the Mountain
James Baldwin
36. Gone With the Wind
Margaret Mitchell
37. The Grapes of Wrath
John Steinbeck
38. Gravity’s Rainbow
Thomas Pynchon
39. The Great Gatsby
F. Scott Fitzgerald
40. A Handful of Dust
Evelyn Waugh
41. The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter
Carson McCullers
42. The Heart of the Matter
Graham Greene
43. Herzog
Saul Bellow
44. Housekeeping
Marilynne Robinson
45. A House for Mr. Biswas
V.S. Naipaul
46. I, Claudius
Robert Graves
47. Infinite Jest
David Foster Wallace
48. Invisible Man
Ralph Ellison
49. Light in August
William Faulkner
50. The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe
C.S. Lewis
51. Lolita
Vladimir Nabokov
52. Lord of the Flies
William Golding
53. The Lord of the Rings
J.R.R. Tolkien
54. Loving
Henry Green
55. Lucky Jim
Kingsley Amis
56. The Man Who Loved Children
Christina Stead
57. Midnight’s Children
Salman Rushdie
58. Money
Martin Amis
59. The Moviegoer
Walker Percy
60. Mrs. Dalloway
Virginia Woolf
61. Naked Lunch
William Burroughs
62. Native Son
Richard Wright
63. Neuromancer
William Gibson
64. Never Let Me Go
Kazuo Ishiguro
65. 1984
George Orwell
66. On the Road
Jack Kerouac
67. One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest
Ken Kesey
68. The Painted Bird
Jerzy Kosinski
69. Pale Fire
Vladimir Nabokov
70. A Passage to India
E.M. Forster
71. Play It As It Lays
Joan Didion
72. Portnoy’s Complaint
Philip Roth
73. Possession
A.S. Byatt
74. The Power and the Glory
Graham Greene
75. The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie
Muriel Spark
76. Rabbit, Run
John Updike
77. Ragtime
E.L. Doctorow
78. The Recognitions
William Gaddis
79. Red Harvest
Dashiell Hammett
80. Revolutionary Road
Richard Yates
81. The Sheltering Sky
Paul Bowles
82. Slaughterhouse-Five
Kurt Vonnegut
83. Snow Crash
Neal Stephenson
84. The Sot-Weed Factor
John Barth
85. The Sound and the Fury
William Faulkner
86. The Sportswriter
Richard Ford
87. The Spy Who Came in From the Cold
John le Carre
88. The Sun Also Rises
Ernest Hemingway
89. Their Eyes Were Watching God
Zora Neale Hurston
90. Things Fall Apart
Chinua Achebe
91. To Kill a Mockingbird
Harper Lee
92. To the Lighthouse
Virginia Woolf
93. Tropic of Cancer
Henry Miller
94. Ubik
Philip K. Dick
95. Under the Net
Iris Murdoch
96. Under the Volcano
Malcolm Lowry
97. Watchmen
Alan Moore & Dave Gibbons
98. White Noise
Don DeLillo
99. White Teeth
Zadie Smith
100. Wide Sargasso Sea
Jean Rhys
http://www.time.com/time/2005/100books/the_complete_list.html
Senti a la Self Pity Mode
Posted onJanuary 16, 2009
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This was supposed to be a Christmas post but I guess I need to delay that one.
When somebody drops a bomb at you, something like “nakakapagod ka pakisamahan”, what should be felt?
It might be a simple comment but somehow, it got me thinking. After all that I’ve said and done for other people, my whole existence was summed up to that. When would I hear something nice about me? Did my parents just made the biggest mistake by creating such a monster like me? Someone who’s always a liability to other people?
Personally, I think it’s unfair. I would like to believe I am more than that. But when other people, people that are closest to me, says that straight to my face, it just sinks in deep. And it hurts. Badly.
So how to handle it? For me, I can feel bitter about it and wallow in darkness. Wrap myself with double layers of bubble wrapping and be a hermit in my damned room. Alienate myself from everybody else and live in a perfect autistic world. Honestly, that seems to me the best way out. Forget the idea of proving others wrong and just admit all the shit and proudly say, YES I AM ALL THAT. JUST THAT. NOW F*CK OFF.
Or, I can just take it in “maturely”. Think things over, extract the lesson out of it. Learn from it. But where’s the fun in that? It’s easier to be defensive and just wreck everything. It’s easier to go on self-pity mode and feel like shit. But I know, an hour or so later, this is what I’d do. I will still choose the right, difficult and tiring path. And in the long run, still end up misunderstood, misjudged and guess what, I am again the effin loser.
F*CK IT
Posted onNovember 22, 2008
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I think there should be a new rule in flats: after 10 pm KUMBAYAS ARE NOT ALLOWED!
2 minutes ago I was on my bed trying to get a decent sleep. But now I am RANTING here, with a runny nose, a big headache and feeling shitty.
You see, I really don’t care if you go on light a bonfire, sing Church songs or whatever, drink beer, be merry, or even f*ck each other while you’re at it… JUST DO IT SILENTLY.
FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE IT’S 1AM!!!
ARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
I JUST NEED SOME SLEEP!
F*CK IT!
Or like how the Conios would have it…
F*CK IT TALAGA…
UPDATE
Posted onNovember 8, 2008
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Hmmm, I can’t think of a better title so that’s all I’m gonna put up there.
It feels like ages since I had my last writing spree here. Nothing much to tell and/or write.
The only update is, I’ve started writing the book I wanted to write 2 or 3 years ago. Finally had the courage to start it. And it felt good and right.
I’m so darn scared if I’ll give justice to it but there’s no way to find out but try.
So I think I’ll be busy with it for a while. You’ll (yes you, whoever you are stranger) get to read the first chapter if I feel it’s good enough for an audience.
So less time for me to write in here. Ayt?! Hehe.
PS
Osing I need your help. =)
Palm Reading, Anyone?
Posted onOctober 13, 2008
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I’ve never been a fan of fortune telling. I always thought that it’s my spirituality that’s preventing me from believing whatever would be seen in my future. But the truth is, knowing what could be or what would be scares me. The fear doesn’t only apply to bad omens. I also fear the good ones. Why? Simple. I get easily disappointed. I know it’s stupid to actually put your faith into something that was only told by somebody thru reading random cards or peering into the crystal ball, but somehow, I just knew that whatever Madame sees, one way or another, I will believe it.
I once had a groupmate in my previous work who claims to know how to read palms. And as the skeptic that I am (or maybe just plain paranoid), I let others show their palms first before I volunteered mine. I thought, it is nice to get some feedbacks first if she was really accurate with her predictions. It turned out that most of her readings were accurate [enough], so I showed her my palms. To my dismay, she only exclaimed that my palms have just too many lines; that it it hard for her to read them. Her conclusion: there are just too many things going on in my head. Great. Just great. I am a freak. Or the lines on my hands are.
So days passed by and I forgot about all the palm reading and such. But just last week, my colleague here in SG was telling her “Palm Reading Experience” in Hong Kong. The conversation started when she told me that she had to leave the office early since her mom is sick and she needed to go to the hospital. I asked her how old is her mom and she replied 80+. So I told her that she should start living healthy. Surprisingly, she told me she doesn’t want to live long. She explained that it will be quite troublesome. Then she told me that a “stupid” (her word not mine) fortune-teller in Hong Kong saw in her palm that she would be living a long life. Then she asked if she can look at my palms. So I retold her my own “Palm Reading Experience” cautioning her that she will never ever get to read my future thru my hands. But she insisted so I showed her.
In my right hand, there’s a single unbroken line that runs across my whole palm. This is somehow weird since I never really saw other people having this same palm print. Also my left hand doesn’t have that same line. But she interpreted the line as follows:
“You will only have one or two serious [romantic] relationships. You will only have a few or possibly just a single partner but she will be your one and true love.”
Woah! I actually felt good about it. For other men, that for sure is a bummer. But for me, I appreciate her interpretation. Besides, that is exactly what I am looking for. My one true love. It doesn’t matter if I only get to experience having just one relationship in my life. As long as SHE IS THE ONE, heck, I am vey much into it. Sure sure, I am not trusting that my love life will actually happen like that. But it’s nice to know. Maybe, it might just happen.
