Thought I'd share about this beautiful video by Matthew Brown. These are my thoughts and sentiments inspired from the clip.

It's been a dream of mine to live on a hill,
far from any city filled with pretentious citizens.
I want to go back to the earth, plant my own trees.
Walk barefooted on dirt; swim with mudskippers.
I'd like to climb up trees to bask in the 3pm Sunlight.
I want to find leaves in my hair of all colors and sizes.
I want bugs living in my arm pit hair.
I want to lose the array of men's hygienic crap...
...and be one with honesty.

Real civilized men aren't apathetic.

⁴Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. ⁵It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. ⁶Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. ⁷It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

⁸Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. ⁹For we know in part and we prophesy in part, ¹⁰but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears. ¹¹When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. ¹²Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

¹³And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

This is the one true definition. Don't be tempted for settling for second best.

Don't you think that there are times when the questions are designed so that it's impossible to have the correct answer?

And that life sometimes follows suit?

There is a time for waiting, there is a time for giving your all. You do not choose when. Just as the flowers do not choose when they are to bloom. And yet who could deny their beauty?

If you could be anywhere in the world, where would you be?

That question needs to be qualified. If you could be anywhere in the world, with anybody you want, sponsored by some rich NGO and you could return to the job you love whenever you want, where would you go, how long would you be there and who would it be with?

I wanna be right next to the paper taj mahal I sent for Chirstmas and right next to the broken espresso handle.

Sometime early December of 2004, I was sleeping on my bed and my Pops woke me up. He told me with a smile on his face, "it's time to say goodbye to your car."

My dad rarely woke me up. When he did, it was because we had an exciting trip to make early in the morning. We didn't have any trips planned for that day. I thought my dad simply wanted me to help him with the car.

My dad would get up early to go to the gym. Instead of using his car which was parked within the house's garage, sometimes, he'd opt to use my car instead.

Chip, the name I gave the car, was a white charade. She was given to us by Daihatsu after we let them have advertisements in our show when I was a kid. After a while, it was given to my brother when he got married. Later, my brother got a new car, it was passed on to my older sister. By the time, it was passed on to me, she was old and graying.

She was my first car. And whether it was because of that or something else, she felt like she was alive to me and some of my friends.

I'd frequently visit this building with indoor parking. But somehow, I always felt uncomfortable parking Chip inside. I would instead park her under this big Acasia tree. And just like any horse, she'd be grazing while she awaited my return.

Friends would always ask me if they could ride with Chip. I'd bring them all home if they could all fit. But Chip was small. She had a 1000cc engine. When we went up ramps, we needed good momentum or we'll stall halfway.

What happened that morning that prompted my Dad to wake me up was something friends find hard to believe if it wasn't for the photos I was able to take.

My Dad did try to go to the gym. On the way, he noticed there was this feint smoke coming out from the Chip's engine. The folks having their breakfast in front of the stores all stood up as they saw Chip. It was like a standing obation except for the look of alarm painted on their faces.

My Dad pulled over. By this time, the feint smoke gave way billows.

Chip, wasn't just a car for me. She was more than that. She was old and rickety. When it rained, somehow water managed to seep in. I saw one inch tall shrubs growing on her carpet once. Still, she'd provide shade from the glaring Manila sun. Chip's back seat was also where I stored all my research findings for my thesis. I spent months gathering the piles of paper that eventually became the second layer of seat cover my friends sat on when they'd hitch a ride. If I lose my research, I would have to spend another year in college.

One week before the morning my Dad woke me up, I had this unsatiable desire to organize my life. It was really short-lived. I passed by National Bookstore Katipunan and bought a green box. My neat-freakiness quickly dissipated once I stuffed all my papers into the box.

When my Dad realized Chip was really about to go, he looked behind for things that need to be salvaged and saw my green box. He brought it home safely and I finished my thesis that same year.

I was groggy that morning. I didn't even brush my teeth. I didn't think you need clean teeth when you only need to push a car back home. I intended to go back to sleep and savor more of the Saturday morning. But as we were driving I saw a pillar of smoke coming from behind houses. It was a block away. I looked at my Dad and his smile was true. When we turned a corner, I saw small firetruck giving Chip what I later learned was to be Chip's last bath.

I was shocked. But my Dad's smile calmed me.

Chip was a sight to behold. There was a gathering crowd. All with fearful faces. Joey, our mechanic arrived with a hangover and a bucket of water on each hand. My Dad had to stop him. My Dad said "it's okay. It's time to say goodbye." The neighbors were amused. Joey started crying. I asked him what was wrong and he reminded me of the countless hours he spent on Chip. We gave the parts they recovered from Chip to Joey. It was a small token to show how much we valued the services he rendered Chip. But I kept the plate number (and eventually left it somewhere I can't remember LOL).

It took my Dad less than ten minutes to get a tricycle ride back to the house, wake me up, and drive back to the scene. And yet, by the time I saw Chip, her steering wheel was reduced to a 5 millimeter thick wire. There were only springs left, where there used to be car seats. The dashboard and the rest of the uphostery including the carpet that once served as the nursery bed for that tiny shrub I found one morning, all reduced to soot.

Later I decided to post about Chip. I wrote my first blog entry as a Tribute to Chip. I lost the original article. This post was a sad attempt to remember Chip. I'm not even sure about the dates. But all my friends were affected by what happened. And they all paid tribute to Chip in their own ways, mostly with a comment or two. That was Chip, Remembered.

I read a lot. Books are my preferred company when on the train. I would consider my taste for books, a trust-worthy measure, despite my unavoidable developed eccentricity toward certain kinds of books above others.

I do love reading. Reading for me is a passion I developed late in life and yet, to say it left me unchanged is an understatement. Reading has rocked my world. When I was first swept away by Duma and Hugo, I did not know that I would never be able to uncomplicate my far complicated life.

I've read gems, nuggets, treasures and garbage. I've also read books that taste like nothing but what it literally is: paper. Some books on the other hand are glamourous gastronomic pleasures that make you tear for thousand times more. Reading opened a sixth sense that could never be satiated. Occassionally, there'll be a book that would come close to that. Michael Gates Gill's book "How Starbucks Saved My Life" is a book that comes close. It was so easy to read. My biggest complaint against the book was that it finished so fast.

"How Starbucks Saved My Life" was such a touch of reality and a joy to read that I had to write a little something about it:

Thank you, Michael Gates Gill for sharing your story!

Is it really? 2011 flew by so fast.

But before it ends, let me make an accounting of the things that happened. So that as the Maker asks me, "David, I gave you one year, what have you done?" I could reply, "here Sir. It's not much but I tried."

1. I learned how to swim freestyle and breast stroke
2. I learned how to develop in Python
3. I learned how to write in C
4. I learned how to write in Obj-C, iPhone language (especially the awesome CoCos2d)
5. I learned how to write in jQuery, javascript (better late than never)
6. I discovered the world of the terminal, I'm a die-hard emacs user
7. I started cooking for myself (using a slow cooker and pan)
8. I learned how to manage a house hold and keep it clean with as little effort as possible
9. I jumped to a new company
10. I met a number of fantastic new friends
11. I rekindled an old dear friendship (This deserves a post rather than a list item, maybe someday, when the time is ripe!)
12. Most importantly, I got back on track!
13. And yes I won't forget to mention all the silly, stupid things I've committed

That's all for now. I'm sure there is more I can't remember.

I've been scouring the net, upturning each pebble and stone, looking for a solution to the DONK sound I get everytime I hit CTRL + / on the emacs terminal, so that I could perform one of the most basic tasks prone to men, the UNDO. The alternative is to use CTRL+SHIFT+PLUS, but it irks me that once in the office, I'll have to go back to CTRL+/. For a while I tried avoiding mistakes as much as possible, but DANG, to err is really human. What a futile attempt that was. Google wasn't so omnicient this time. I was so happy to find a question Google couldn't help me with. All the forums I've found had zit for an answer.

But here I'll share the small golden nugget of an app that's used for a bunch of other things. Fixing the "osx emacs ctrl slash" bug problem maybe form ust 1 percent of its full capabilities.

The answer lies in key remaps using a system preference addition called keyRemap4MacBook. Don't let the name fool you. It works on all OSX installations, including Lion.

I'm currently typing this post on my osx emacs and happily making mistakes knowing I could always hit my undo button and not need to have acrobatic fingers to do so. All I had to do was go to Emacs Mode->Behavior in Emacs..->[Terminal] Control+/ to C-_...

I feel odd when friends sing happy birthday. My palms go sweaty. I feel queasy. My breath goes short. And It's not that I have anything against birthday celebrations. It's just that I haven't had much experience being the birthday celebrant.

I'm born on the first of November. In my country, on my birthday, the entire nation is on holiday. Schools, offices, factories and even government offices would all be closed. Everyone goes to mourn the death of some love one they've lost. On the Philippine calendar, regardless of which day it falls on, my birthday would be a holiday. In fact, it's a day everyone looks forward to. Which kid wouldn't look forward to three days vacation? People would flock to cemeteries in droves. Memorial parks would be brimming with life. When malls go on sale, they could only wish they could get as many guests as cemeteries do on my birthday. In fact, if you look at the cemeteries, you'd think the trees were on sale. It's like a Michael Jackson concert, just that the only song appropriate would be Thriller. And as for me? I stayed home, with my family. It'll be just us and our spartan party. I'd be lucky to have a cake but the cake shop would also be on holiday. Anyone and everyone would have the death of someone to mourn and remember, everyone except us.

I didn't get much for gifts either. My family wasn't much on presents. And I don't have any godparents. But that's okay, I didn't ask for much. There was no one to ask anyways. Haha!

One thing I did cherish from my family though. I got to experience the kind of honesty you could only get when there isn't much else to be had. On my birthday, my mom would always cook my favorite dish, fried tofu. Yeap! It's really just plain tofu, fried to a golden brown. Nothing special. The secret was in the sauce, the recipe of which I shan't reveal in this blog. I was a kid who did't eat much, my photos as a kid could attest to that, but when we had fried tofu on the table, I had a special bowl for the sauce right next to my plate while the rest of my family would share the other bowl. When everyone was done eating, I made sure there was no tofu left standing on the table.

Then my mom would cook her famous spaghetti. It was well-known in and out of the family. No one else could make spaghetti like she does. My mom would also cook half a dozen other family favorites, all of which would be present for other family birthday celebrations. All, except for the fried tofu. That was reserved for my birthday.

My mom would finish cooking and call everyone in for lunch. But they won't sing happy birthday. My mom would just pray and thank God for my life.

Out of everyone I knew, my family would be the only one who would choose to celebrate the life of a person rather than mourn someone else's passing away. The contrast between my family and all the rest was a gift no one could ever lay claim to, but me. To be honest about it, I never looked forward to my birthday, and as it's quite obvious, I didn't really have much to look forward to. My mom would often cook my favorite dish on regular days anyway. My special day wasn't really that special. But isn't it a good thing when you don't look forward to your birthday? Doesn't it mean that the other days are probably just as good as that supposedly special day, and that you couldn't really ask for more on regular days that could make any other day any more special.

An hour or two after lunch, there'll be a doorbell. My best buddy would invite me to play basketball. What he's doing home is still a mystery, up till this day. Mostly, it'll be just the two of us and their driver who would watch over us. At some point our younger brothers would accompany us to the basketball court, but either way, the entire court would be ours. No grown up boys bullying us with their post adolescent strength. We'd play 'horse' or 'twenty-one' until sun-down when we head home. The only present I remember I received as a kid came from my best bud. It was a Superman comic book. It wasn't even wrapped. It was in the very plastic cellophane that had its price lightly marked on the upper right corner when he gave it to me. It was the issue where Superman regained his powers after coming back to life powerless donning a black costume. What is it with this post? Thriller, cemeteries, and even Superman comes back from the dead. It was seventy pesos, I remember. And for kids who only had 20 bucks for allowance, that was a big deal... At least it was for me.

I am often asked why I miss the Philippines so much. Between my family, my best bud, the fried tofu and the only present I had that wasn't even wrapped, I couldn't really tell. So difficult to choose cuz I think any one of these would have been enough for me to claim that I was the luckiest kid in the planet.

I may never have had the chance to have friends come over for my birthday and at school they'd call me the living dead cuz I always had huge eye-bags and my birthday was on the first of November, but I know few who could equal the love I have for my family and friends, and fewer still who could surpass it. I may not be showy. I'm quiet like my dad. I'd sooner lend a hand than celebrate anything. But my love for them is true and honest and spartan like the many birthday celebrations I was taught to cherish.

Well, there. Thanks for reading all the way to this line. And if you are here cuz you greeted me on my birthday, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. But tonight, I'd like thank the people I mentioned in this post. You guys made my life special. I really really thank God I had all of you! That's really what I wanted to say. Thank you!

~David, also affectionately known as, the living dead, haha!

If you don't think reading this article was an utter complete waste of time, then maybe you have too much free time or there were hints of brilliance in this post that could resurface in the other posts I have. May I recommend a few that some friends of mine like. I would often write garbage. But when friends like an article and go out of their way to complement me, I take note. Here they are, proceed at your own risk, cuz mind you, I don't remember what chemical influence I was under when I wrote these. It could easily be caffeine or sugar, fifty fifty. And sometimes both. There are a gazzilion mistakes. But I'd like to preserve them the way they are. Honest and true. So, shameless plug.. so what? coming in 3.. 2.. 1..

1. Soft Roots
2. Running Comeback
3. the attic (personal favorite)
4. Dreams, Farming, and a Dog Named Solitude
5. A Series of Unplanned Events
6. Cheese Jam and Butter
7. Super heroes Defining Moment