….nod-off-er. lay-over-er. serial island hopper. meddling miscreants of air carriers. ….

(This is a depiction of lazy /lags/, or in tech-lingo, late “pings” - which brings late data, and the world of fast-superspeed-information to a crash, halt, and noisy ka-ching of a bitcoin drop.)

What are they all called again - all those travelling salesmen in the 80s to the early 90s who in their full salesmen attire still go and drag their lives in small cabin-sized luggage trolleys. Ah, the pre-internet days of corporate sales. They are long gone, but are soon romanticised as road warriors, volume two: air warriors.

Now, in the internet and mobile-devices enhanced lives, we sometimes are able to (dare) say, we have evolved and arisen to a level up in our state of travelling affairs - to people who are digital netizens, and with all their devices in tow, are now only optionally...

Ah, the passing of clothes… and the wardrobe rota.

It’s a prime tell-tale sign that summers are nearly off to leafy indoors and the pleasant chill that draws out legs to the long-walks of autumn.

Saying goodbye to our my shorts and re-arranging the hangings from one-piece, one-piece, bikinis, to plain pants - make the summons of time not felt only by the eerie drop of temperature. It correlates to our general life-energies as well, moving from a state of lazy inertia with the heat, to an actual spurt of daily momentum, as can be witnessed to our bounce, and non-keenness to the downtime flick or seasonal series binge. When the word marathon, actually refers to something more mobile - and less, how many new series done ‘till the wee hours - before refilling your stock of beers/ refreshers, and nightly decaf espressos?

Ironically, this downturn to temperature, and tropical rain...

What’s Freedom to you?

From a colonial child, raised in an asian country that’s been colonised by Spain for the last 4-5 generations (not a really bad thought actually), we were raised half-spaniards, who like their food, their sleep, and their nutty little non-spanish-speaking kin. Probably schooled in some boarding school somewhere.

To, now - in present day Asia: where listening to k-pop and j-pop is the real thing that makes you a child of the continent. (I cook noodles, fried rice, and paella - risotto in equal amounts a week, surely that counts for something!)

We count on the fact that south americans are like us, and we look like them gringos, but really to the horror of the actual descendants of the old Spanish families - we are all actually alike.

People have long surpassed the point of elitism - which is actually a border-specific culture - and having a multi-linear...

(3LAAD): The Series of Life.

In the timely tradition of writer trait of un-punctuality, these articles defy the characteristic poignancy of ironic defiance to format, as very needy aesthetes.

I am having a brownie as i write this. And i’m not sure i do it any justice to be any more promiscuously un-promised as to adjust content - to - date, or at least to previously affixed date. (Ah, the magic of digital…) - you can totally write a draft (as i have) two weeks, and adjust it the very last minute, as you publish to contain to-the-minute content that was just picked up - instead of making another quite separately.

I am having a hard time to keep to the rules - that once was terrified writers had to simply clear their sinuses with - but, i think i am at liberty to apply myself very liberally in these here pages.

(Thank, you digital.)

According ourselves to the limitations, are as it...

(2LAAD): The Series of Life.

Taking a moment on a Wednesday, to sit down, and be amazed. With the things done well, round the world, that i am lucky to know about. (In that very specific order.)

When we think of Life Pathing, or the path that we create in ourselves to keep our direction towards the path we were set on - by parents, guidance counselors, or even the teachers/ mentors/ and people of account on the way to extreme adulting, in adulthood.

Amazed by the following rockets of progress.

1/ Very compelling reason that there are massive planets that are in different circadian / cycle to all the rest around the planets - and the direction and pace to it’s orbit, raised eyebrows with the scientific community. There’s more confirmations needed probably, but it’s size is three times that of Earth, in terms of mass and days of cycle/ orbit (20,000 days).

The science...

(1LAAD): The Series of Life.

I wouldn’t be a real writer, hadn’t it been for my dear friend Yustac.

On whose umpteenth birthday, this article here is dedicated to. A very coordinated, intention to the ether that kept me going as a teenager, as well as a budding aspiring adult.

So far, he is the writer that i wrote to at all times, and especially in times of sheer trouble. He is the vanilla to my chocolate, the bass to my dreary drumrolls, the crumb to my harry. And so far, we are coordinated in our being merely a continent apart - except for the haunt that was the Music room in my convent school (we don’t call them that, but it felt like one). It was run by the nuns of Notre Dame, and was the origination of all my angst protocols, as my collared sweater-set atonement of bad writing had now astounded me to actually attest to. They liked me in the Creative Department than in the...

(As un-folding in a medium, exposing the business of scribbling as un-punctual writers, The Series of Life. Or LAAD.)

When i started journalling life, age 11-ish. Scribbled away in a tiny tiny poem notebook with my little twinstars pen, i think to myself, and then write it for others. I do this, to visualise my thoughts, and reading them on the page, am both ridding them off my mind, as well as binding them on paper - as if to place an import to their meaning and give them life on a page.

As it were, there are heaps of meaning in a historical glance where placing meaning gives life to it, and meaning is thrusted forth via versions of what is “word made flesh”.

Today, movies are a way to make concepts in minds of writers come alive - as if they were concepts waiting around lallygagging in our amygdala to be brought forth to life, and be “written into history”. They are a series of...

Exploring the context of being spoiled.

I am not a definitions expert or anything, but the semantics are a little annoying - or at best, tricky - in a social context. And since, i am tasked (or re-tasked myself) towards the business of being social,

this is a crucial point taken.

(BTW.)

Keeping a glossary of terms to help out the SOCIAL misgivings of a generation or two, post-world war is partly solved with the raising of them outside of the affected nations.

This beseeches all understanding of all systems that make us daunt others, or ourselves - and what takes place within the socials that happen - but un-acknowledged areas of misunderstanding?

Why are people daunted?
Being exempted from having to do oculars, and extremely visible work would accompany the

How do we handle ourselves in this context?
The corrugated appeal of a social milieu, that travels from one plane to...

Belatedly, a panicked reaction to not having an entry to mother’s day, to wish upon earthly mothers the grounding that they provided for ages - to fly off into the ether to have their hearts be flown into the wonders that what their creations (or co-creations) have now de-mystifyingly surround them with, in their time.

May is summer and time to enjoy the outdoors - and the sun, as fleeting as it showers its warmth on our shores, ripening our avocados, burnishing faces, blondening highlights, and signals us to all things fun.

Mothers look like this.

Happy Mother’s Day, everyone.

So, when the world celebrates Labour Day, (not a political party) -
in my house, we celebrate my daughter’s birthday.

This was a running joke, since i was in actual labour. And while i always birth children at dawn, or early light 5, 7, 2am - to be exact. I think my now very mangled senses and grated nerves would have me believe that it probably owed to my need to move it along - rather than the injection of an external solution in my veins to induce labour.

That wouldn’t be too far from my birth plan - Lamaze is relying on my natural uterus muscles’ ability to push out babies into the world at their proper timing, not mine. My role is to keep all forceps, and metal foreign-body instruments from entering my cavity to forcibly take what in (their) time, is going to get readily enveloped in their air-mixed-lungs that miraculously get properly done, even with un-natural circumstances...