dysfunctional neurexin 1

I always have this dilemma dealing with people who are new to me. Say, I just met this group of people and their world is totally different from my universe. As always, people wonder why I am quiet and don't talk to them. It's not that I'm holding my breath because it stinks when I talk ( certainly that is not the case!) It's just me- Less talk, more thoughts and imagery. I hate the thought that I have to explain all over again why I don't talk that much. I've been like this 25 years and 4 BFs ago. I won't be surprised if they'd think I'm the nerdy-geeky-werdie elephant on the block. Seriously, my neurexin 1 is dysfunctional and is already embedded in the region of my chromosome 11. 

 Say, what am I talking about? Geez! You can always google or wiki it!

 to make it short, I'm Autistic.

— I forgot that it's my dad's birthday today. shiz! I can't go home yet. I'll be working my ass off the whole week. I'll make it up to him. If my dad happens to read my blog, I wanna tell him again I love him so much and he's the bestest man in the whole wide world and universe and galaxies! I love you daddee!

but that’s just it

I have nothing much to write about. I don't even know where to start or … anyway, my life's a bit on a high and I really don't know what to say. I can't complain (no nosy boss, and that chinaman) there's nothing to whine about, actually.    All i know is that my eyes are complaining, but that's just it. I love my new job. It's just like being at home drawing and doing my stuff the whole day. It's funny, when I see someone who has pimples or wrinkles or any skin flaws, my brain's flashing and playing the healing tool and the patch tool of photoshop trying to erase it mentally. Even when I go to sleep, I trace every objects that I see with the Pen tool mentally. g'uh! I'm nuts! But that's just it. Using the spoken word to explain ideas is so mundane! I'll try singing my reply, or jotting down a quick limerick that expresses what I am thinking. I have second thoughts though, singing is not an option.  I'll try reading some books that breathe good reasons and ideas. I think my brains( yes I have 4 brains) need a breather. Yeah, I'm a graphic artist now (officially)

this  is my 2nd attempt using Illustrator CS2 (vector drawing) 

How do you want to die?

It is appointed unto men once to die ..

 The miracle of life - when semen meets egg + 9 months after = 1 nekkid crying baby. It is indeed a wonder to me how these little creatures came to life. I for once was a little baby Max Alvarado (can't find a picture of him online)look-alike. Yes, that's how mean my uncle described how I look like  to his friends and relatives. (seriously, that was a true story).  It amazes me to know that there are 70+ year old ladies who are lipstick shopping at Watson's. I happened to bump two wrinkled-face beautiful grannies earlier today there. "Is Revlon's color ok on my lips? How about this one?" said the other granny. I couldn't help but look at them and smiled from cheek to cheek on how cute they were while discussing and trying other lipstick colors as well. Life amazes me.  How about Death? I'm not scared to die. Somehow, I feel sad thinking if I died. I'm sad because I know there are atleast 5 people who will mourn. I am sad because I hate goodbyes. I am sad thinking about it because I ain't a jillionaire yet. Now, if you ask me how do I want to die? I want to die saving someone. Because saving someone is like getting jillions and throwing a party of a lifetime. Then I'm happy.

my odder self

someone said :

The notion that all transition take us adjacent to our fitting selves or
who we are to begin with seems counter-instinctual to me.
But so does quantum physics and the law of torts and calculus and algebra.
That doesn’t make it true, but it absolutely makes it probable.
Michaelangelo supposedly said he sculpted by starting with a piece of
marble and removing everything that wasn’t the statue.
Could we be doing the same thing as people? That certainly seems
probable. It is just as possible as us being the sum of the impact
of our choices and experiences on the genes our parents gave us.
Our bodies replace all of our cells every seven years.
On odder days, I hit myself with the multiverse theory of self.
At least that’s what I call it. Since the universe we inhabit is
branching in infinite directions every moment, each instant is a new
 person. I like writing letters to my future self so I wouldn’t be
forgotten since that self would essentially be dead. Those
two perspectives are probably more literal than for what you are
 looking, but that’s how I roll. -)

Good luck with the existential crisis: my odder self.

(Sunday, April 30, 2006)

Question of the day: 

whiplash

Why do we always have strange run-ins just when we're feeling happy, optimistic and personable? ah!!! whiplash!!!…

You are not growing yourself younger, i reminded my reflection. Maybe it was my dress that made me look more critically at myself than usual..

Happiness goes straight to my head. I could pleasantly surprise myself with words from the heart that bypassed my brain on the way out. Sometimes this shortcut is the best way to go — it definitely will get me to where I really want to be a whole lot faster. Enjoying the wandering ways of my  thoughts and actions. Nobody minds — and some people love it. I may actually encourage others to let their dreams take flight. One of 'em has grown his wings. Congratulations dear self!

*Waistline long since vanished*...that's what I wanted to see in the near future..how weird yet so true..

 I was contemplating a session of retail therapy so I went to the mall and bought me a book with a very long title called Adobe Illustrator CS2 CLASSROOM IN A BOOK - The official training workbook from Adobe Systems. It costs $49.99…my nose bled.

P.S. I hope somebody's gonna be generous enough to give me the latest graphic training workbooks that rock to the core like:

Maya, Photoshop CS2 and all those howto's books. I hope that that somebody's gonna spare me with those for Dummies books.Dummies books are only for dummies.

for some reason, this song's been looping forever 

one retarded night

I have 5 days more to enjoy unemployment.  I recently resigned being an brain squashing tech engineer for some unidentified flying reason 18 days ago. Devil knows it has to do with that chinaman! Anyway, I have a new job. The company's an International fashion firm and the boss's name is Miranda. (oh you bet!  it's the devil (i hope not–the devil, I mean)who wears prada! She's a fashion designer in Europe..bet she wears prada sometimes. heck i care if she wears one!) Luckily, I'm not her assistant! I'm just a mere graphic artist. yay! I hope she's not as mean as that Miranda I was talking about. I just want to draw and design, ok!

So, five more productive retarded days to go, then Bam!. I started making one productive retardation scheme last night. Since it was a Court Order for me not to sing on Wednesdays and days in between and then next succeeding days, I managed to hide myself inside my cave( then sang) where ants marched happily near my bed bunk. Happy was I to greet each one of them with Raid.  

I sang.