Money Matters
What a day. Stock market gave up a few points today. I got hit several times. I don't want to look at my portfolio so I don't get emotional. lol September is proving to be the bloodiest month for me. Though nothing like last June when everyone was screaming it was the end of the world after seeing the DOW drop 200 pts over two days. Turned out to be a false alarm. Will the markets crash now after the barrage of good news going on in the world saying the economies are getting better? Now when we all talk about the credit crisis like it was a thing of the past and a distant memory? I don't think so. I'm not liquidating my positions because I think it's just buying pressure from people who want to get a piece of the pie before the next run up. Am I a fool or am I a genius? We'll find out tomorrow and in the coming days...
Then again if an actual trade war occurs between China and America... hello Great Depression par deux!
If I owed another country gajillions of dollars I wouldn't go pissing them off by imposing sanctions on their trade goods... that's just fucked up and proud. Especially when that same country is where I dump all my agricultural products.
Kanye West
What the fuck is wrong with the guy? A seventeen year old girl got an award. It was her moment and he goes stealing the scene and robbing her of her triumph. You don't always get awards for your career and when you do it's the sweetest thing. Then someone has to ruin your night? Forget that she was white and that he was black. Forget that you don't like her music. It's basic humanity to let other people experience joy and fulfillment in their lives. pfuh! I'm not a fan of Taylor Swift and I don't like her music but if she won then huraah for her! I won't jump on a stage to tell her she deserves it less than someone else. By the way... Beyonce won after all. Talk about jumping the gun. lol
Musical Keypressing
I'm still on that cheap 1.5k piano. lol I gave up studying note reading and my methodical piano lessons. I'm too impatient to keep going but maybe I'll pick up where I left off... maybe when I try study classical stuff. For now I just want to play the popular songs I like. So far I'm studying Apologize and a piano solo of Only Hope. No recordings yet... mainly coz I sing with the playing now. Who'd want to listen to that! :P
Painting
Dead. D-E-D... DED! No seriously... no works whatsoever. The ideas never left my head though... they're all still there rocking around along with a thousand different things. Somehow I can't sit down and get to work on them. I hope this plan I have to make a graphic novel comes to fruition. I got bits and pieces of the story (in my head) and ideas for the characters (also in my head) but so far chalk it up to no time/ not inspired/ too lazy or whatever reason. Maybe on a long weekend. We seem to loving holidays anyways. I think we've already spent about 1/4th of the year on holidays.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Thursday, April 02, 2009
More Piano Playing
The complete version with errors.
A thousand miles by Vanessa Carlton (but not as great as her playing!)
A thousand miles by Vanessa Carlton (but not as great as her playing!)
Saturday, March 28, 2009
The thousand mile journey
Me on the piano *trying* to play a thousand miles
Well that's as far as I managed to get anyways. I had a better one but it had 3 things in it I did not intend to include. A dog barking, the sound of our servant sweeping in the yard and a Jeepney tooting the horn. lol
I haven't abandoned my artsy fartsy side yet. Just working out the story for the comic. Soon as I finish it I'll get on the panels and you'll start seeing some art in here just like before. Except maybe this time it'll come with some music. :P
Well that's as far as I managed to get anyways. I had a better one but it had 3 things in it I did not intend to include. A dog barking, the sound of our servant sweeping in the yard and a Jeepney tooting the horn. lol
I haven't abandoned my artsy fartsy side yet. Just working out the story for the comic. Soon as I finish it I'll get on the panels and you'll start seeing some art in here just like before. Except maybe this time it'll come with some music. :P
Monday, November 24, 2008
Monday, November 10, 2008
Puppet Master
"Liberty", Issue 1- part 2
Dr. Miranda Grey felt the icy gaze of the man in the grey coat. He was very obviously irate. She didn't like that this man had enough clearance to go traipsing in her lab. She liked it less that this hooligan who obviously had no appreciation of their important scientific work... was now her boss. Up until now her science team possessed complete autonomy. Now everything goes thru the man in the grey coat.
Let me get this right doctor. You have some of the best minds working on this corpse and so far you can't even wake him up?
<...god how I hate this man!>
Mr. Zimmerman. I told you...
You expect me to believe that this *thing* functions like some kind of marionet!?! Doctor you and your team cost this company millions of dollars each year. I suggest you make yourself worth it!
The man shot one more piercing gaze towards Dr. Grey before turning to leave. The door banged loudly behind him leaving the doctor at a loss for words. She moved a little closer to the bed and the body of a man that laid motionless on it. He seemed so at peace... so free of burden. The monitoring equipment they hooked up to him still display the same readings. Everything was completely normal. He was completely healthy. He was also very much comatose.
Security caught him running from the scene 7 months ago. They say he planted the c4 explosives that blew up their processing plant. The report mentioned that as soon as he was cornered he simply... fell to the ground... senseless. The company brought him here for the doctor to study. She didn't bother asking questions. They obviously wanted to keep it under wraps or they would've brought him to a real hospital. Not that they don't have the proper equipment to take care of him. G-NOME is years ahead in medical science than what's available to the public.
For 7 months they ran scans on his brain and monitored his body functions. Jansen in neurolgy put forth his theory that had all of them taken aback. His arguments were convincing and Jan is no run of the mill doctor. He's considered by some as the "wunderkind" of neurology. The man... if one can truly call him that was built to function as a reciever... Oh the body could function independently but only enough to keep itself alive. Outside of the influence of the transmitter... the man was built to go into automatic hybernation. A biological marionet of sorts... his brain was wired like a client computer on a network.
<...but where is the server? or what is the server?>
Miranda found herself disbelieving... the idea was crazy... only Jan isn't a crazy man. He's as genius as genius comes. She remembered what her father used to say: "When all other explanations fail. Go with the simplest one."
And the simplest explanation was...
Years of working on this secret project in this secret underground facility has turned us all into lunatics.
It was all she could do not to laugh out loud.
Dr. Miranda Grey felt the icy gaze of the man in the grey coat. He was very obviously irate. She didn't like that this man had enough clearance to go traipsing in her lab. She liked it less that this hooligan who obviously had no appreciation of their important scientific work... was now her boss. Up until now her science team possessed complete autonomy. Now everything goes thru the man in the grey coat.
Let me get this right doctor. You have some of the best minds working on this corpse and so far you can't even wake him up?
Mr. Zimmerman. I told you...
You expect me to believe that this *thing* functions like some kind of marionet!?! Doctor you and your team cost this company millions of dollars each year. I suggest you make yourself worth it!
The man shot one more piercing gaze towards Dr. Grey before turning to leave. The door banged loudly behind him leaving the doctor at a loss for words. She moved a little closer to the bed and the body of a man that laid motionless on it. He seemed so at peace... so free of burden. The monitoring equipment they hooked up to him still display the same readings. Everything was completely normal. He was completely healthy. He was also very much comatose.
Security caught him running from the scene 7 months ago. They say he planted the c4 explosives that blew up their processing plant. The report mentioned that as soon as he was cornered he simply... fell to the ground... senseless. The company brought him here for the doctor to study. She didn't bother asking questions. They obviously wanted to keep it under wraps or they would've brought him to a real hospital. Not that they don't have the proper equipment to take care of him. G-NOME is years ahead in medical science than what's available to the public.
For 7 months they ran scans on his brain and monitored his body functions. Jansen in neurolgy put forth his theory that had all of them taken aback. His arguments were convincing and Jan is no run of the mill doctor. He's considered by some as the "wunderkind" of neurology. The man... if one can truly call him that was built to function as a reciever... Oh the body could function independently but only enough to keep itself alive. Outside of the influence of the transmitter... the man was built to go into automatic hybernation. A biological marionet of sorts... his brain was wired like a client computer on a network.
<...but where is the server? or what is the server?>
Miranda found herself disbelieving... the idea was crazy... only Jan isn't a crazy man. He's as genius as genius comes. She remembered what her father used to say: "When all other explanations fail. Go with the simplest one."
And the simplest explanation was...
Years of working on this secret project in this secret underground facility has turned us all into lunatics.
It was all she could do not to laugh out loud.
Saturday, November 08, 2008
Watching from above
"Liberty" Issue 1 - Part 1
Ryan sat on one of the railings as he looked down the street. He motioned as if to pinch one of the pedestrians...
They all look like tiny ants from up here. Just milling around doing their own thing. None of them even bothers to look up anymore. If one did they'd spot me in an instant. They never do. They're all trapped in their own lives. Just walking like everyone else. Talking like everyone else... like lemmings... you can hardly tell them from each other. At least from up here.
He stared down into the street and wondered if it was a mile long drop or if it was just yards. He was never good at distances and he never could tell the difference between the english and the metric system. He wondered why for some reason he lost that familiar sinking feeling in his gut whenever he looked down. Like somehow he wasn't afraid anymore.
In my mind I've always known I was different. My sister used to tease me when we were kids... she used to say that I was adopted. I have to say at some point I argued the matter inside my head. It wasn't true of course... the moment I started growing up, me and my sister started looking more and more alike. If I were adopted then so was she. Hehe... except we are the reflections of our parents...
He stared blankly at the busy streets and the dancing lights, his mind busy with what it was that made him the way he is... why his sister didn't seem to have it.
Or does she?
The ground beneath him began to pull away. The people in the streets became even smaller as he moved upwards. He took in the full size of the Makati Business district and how busy it was during the holidays.
Not one looks up anymore. Not even one.
He paused to ponder the uniqueness of his situation or...
Am I truly the only one? Am I that unique? Or is this some kind of abnormality and I'm nothing more than a freak of nature.
For a moment he stood there, suspended far above ground. Alone. Then he pictured himself moving thru the air, a particular location in his mind and as if slave to his will... the unseen force that has been his new found ally and constant companion pushed him forward slowly, gracefully.
Am I truly the only one here who can fly?
... and off into the horrizon he went.
...
...
...
Most people seem to notice the pretty girl by the door of every Starbucks coffee shop. Anezka Petrovsky was very hard to miss. Even in Makati City which is where most foreigners tend to stay... she was an eye catcher. But while every male eye in the room was glued to her alabaster white skin and deep red hair, she was so intent on looking up at the man who not a few moments ago sat atop Ayala Tower 1. She picked up her phone as soon as he left. She pressed on the speed dial and a female voice answered.
He's gone. It's like you said. How long was the file?
(Several pages long. It's a thick folder. I swiped it on my way out. I also managed to delete him from their servers.)
What do you want me to do? Should I follow him?
(No need. I know where he's going)
(Ana... be careful. What this guy can do... it's dangerous. Even for someone like you.)
Dear sister, I haven't met a man I can't handle.
... and Anezka Petrovsky got up with a smile on her face reminiscient of the first day she got her two Siberian Huskies. The door closing behind her signaled the death of the dreams of every man in the room.
Ryan sat on one of the railings as he looked down the street. He motioned as if to pinch one of the pedestrians...
They all look like tiny ants from up here. Just milling around doing their own thing. None of them even bothers to look up anymore. If one did they'd spot me in an instant. They never do. They're all trapped in their own lives. Just walking like everyone else. Talking like everyone else... like lemmings... you can hardly tell them from each other. At least from up here.
He stared down into the street and wondered if it was a mile long drop or if it was just yards. He was never good at distances and he never could tell the difference between the english and the metric system. He wondered why for some reason he lost that familiar sinking feeling in his gut whenever he looked down. Like somehow he wasn't afraid anymore.
In my mind I've always known I was different. My sister used to tease me when we were kids... she used to say that I was adopted. I have to say at some point I argued the matter inside my head. It wasn't true of course... the moment I started growing up, me and my sister started looking more and more alike. If I were adopted then so was she. Hehe... except we are the reflections of our parents...
He stared blankly at the busy streets and the dancing lights, his mind busy with what it was that made him the way he is... why his sister didn't seem to have it.
Or does she?
The ground beneath him began to pull away. The people in the streets became even smaller as he moved upwards. He took in the full size of the Makati Business district and how busy it was during the holidays.
Not one looks up anymore. Not even one.
He paused to ponder the uniqueness of his situation or...
Am I truly the only one? Am I that unique? Or is this some kind of abnormality and I'm nothing more than a freak of nature.
For a moment he stood there, suspended far above ground. Alone. Then he pictured himself moving thru the air, a particular location in his mind and as if slave to his will... the unseen force that has been his new found ally and constant companion pushed him forward slowly, gracefully.
Am I truly the only one here who can fly?
... and off into the horrizon he went.
...
...
...
Most people seem to notice the pretty girl by the door of every Starbucks coffee shop. Anezka Petrovsky was very hard to miss. Even in Makati City which is where most foreigners tend to stay... she was an eye catcher. But while every male eye in the room was glued to her alabaster white skin and deep red hair, she was so intent on looking up at the man who not a few moments ago sat atop Ayala Tower 1. She picked up her phone as soon as he left. She pressed on the speed dial and a female voice answered.
He's gone. It's like you said. How long was the file?
What do you want me to do? Should I follow him?
Dear sister, I haven't met a man I can't handle.
... and Anezka Petrovsky got up with a smile on her face reminiscient of the first day she got her two Siberian Huskies. The door closing behind her signaled the death of the dreams of every man in the room.
Thursday, October 04, 2007
The Diary of Jean Pierre Piraneau, Gun Mage Captain of Cygnar
I know what I'm doing is wrong. I can't help it. I've got my eye on the prize and I'm not coming back without it. May the commander forgive me...
I've been separated from the main battlegroup for days. They're probably thinking that I'm lying in a ditch somewhere. I'm just hoping they won't get the chance to be right. The doe I've been hunting is much better at this than the last one. She knows the woods like no one else I've seen and she covers her tracks like a ghost. To make matters worse... this damned rain isn't helping!
Movement! Just at the edge of vision. She's curious. She stays just out of sight enough to watch but not be seen. If that weren't true I'd be dead already. Maybe.
I load my pistol. She sees me and she's winding her crossbow. I'm only going to have one chance at this. She doesn't seem like the type to miss. My vision blurs as I call on a different kind of sense... I can see her form, see her move with a cat like grace... aiming at me with steady hands. I face the other direction. Make her think I can't see her. Just one shot...
The bullet speeds past the trees, dodges around trees and cuts through corners. It finds it's mark and punches thru flesh with a muffled sound... like a pebble thrown in a pond.
I open my eyes and notice the bolt in the trunk beside me. The skill of it's maker would be an envy of cygnaran smiths. It looks sleek... well balanced but sharp enough that it can punch thru steel. If my shot came in a heart beat later that bolt would have gone thru my skull cleanly. Time to see the doe. Bring home the prize.
I walked over to where she was. The woman was lying on the ground face up... her eyes wide open in disbelief. Her chest was laboring heavily as blood went out of the entry wound. Her hand shook as she tried to cover the wound. She knows death comes for her but she can't accept it. I kneel beside her and I held her hand to steady it. I can see disgust in her eyes. Perhaps for me. Perhaps for her own failure. Or perhaps for both. She tries to say something but only a gurgling sound comes out. She's bleeding everywhere now. Inside and out.
I put my hand on her forehead. Tell her to keep still. Tell her that we're just soldiers fighting for our freedom. I tell her I know of the pouch she keeps on her right side. That she keeps a collection of tokens taken from our warcasters who never saw her coming. I tell her I understand. I tell her I don't hate her and in turn that she shouldn't hate me. This is what we do.
Tears well out of her eyes. Her chest heaves and she convulses. She lies in a pool of her own blood... looking at me with disbelief...
I've been separated from the main battlegroup for days. They're probably thinking that I'm lying in a ditch somewhere. I'm just hoping they won't get the chance to be right. The doe I've been hunting is much better at this than the last one. She knows the woods like no one else I've seen and she covers her tracks like a ghost. To make matters worse... this damned rain isn't helping!
Movement! Just at the edge of vision. She's curious. She stays just out of sight enough to watch but not be seen. If that weren't true I'd be dead already. Maybe.
I load my pistol. She sees me and she's winding her crossbow. I'm only going to have one chance at this. She doesn't seem like the type to miss. My vision blurs as I call on a different kind of sense... I can see her form, see her move with a cat like grace... aiming at me with steady hands. I face the other direction. Make her think I can't see her. Just one shot...
The bullet speeds past the trees, dodges around trees and cuts through corners. It finds it's mark and punches thru flesh with a muffled sound... like a pebble thrown in a pond.
I open my eyes and notice the bolt in the trunk beside me. The skill of it's maker would be an envy of cygnaran smiths. It looks sleek... well balanced but sharp enough that it can punch thru steel. If my shot came in a heart beat later that bolt would have gone thru my skull cleanly. Time to see the doe. Bring home the prize.
I walked over to where she was. The woman was lying on the ground face up... her eyes wide open in disbelief. Her chest was laboring heavily as blood went out of the entry wound. Her hand shook as she tried to cover the wound. She knows death comes for her but she can't accept it. I kneel beside her and I held her hand to steady it. I can see disgust in her eyes. Perhaps for me. Perhaps for her own failure. Or perhaps for both. She tries to say something but only a gurgling sound comes out. She's bleeding everywhere now. Inside and out.
I put my hand on her forehead. Tell her to keep still. Tell her that we're just soldiers fighting for our freedom. I tell her I know of the pouch she keeps on her right side. That she keeps a collection of tokens taken from our warcasters who never saw her coming. I tell her I understand. I tell her I don't hate her and in turn that she shouldn't hate me. This is what we do.
Tears well out of her eyes. Her chest heaves and she convulses. She lies in a pool of her own blood... looking at me with disbelief...
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