It’s always good to have a lot of tricks up your sleeve. I think of it as stocking up my arsenal, just in case my desk job finally drives me nuts and I need to escape to an alternative career. Continue reading “DJ Bootcamp: Diggy-diggy-aah!”
Pandora’s box has been opened; a whole swarm of crazy has been unleashed. Only, instead of being anxious, I felt happy and giddy and excited. I could hear the swish of ideas whizzing left and right in my head. Zeal consumed me as I felt the whole world was mine for the taking.
No, I wasn’t getting high this time. Believe it or not, this euphoria came from after reading two books — ‘The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari’ by Robin Sharma & ‘The 4-Hour Workweek’ by Timothy Ferriss.
Coffee rings make me smile. It makes me think of long chats between friends, of well-deserved me-time, of a happy soul getting fed by a good book. Needless to say, cafes for me are a happy place.
[ If you belong to the church of spoilers-must die, then please don’t continue. ]
No ifs and buts about it — this book is evil incarnate. Irrefutably 100% grade evil.
Hi, I’m Ish and I’m an addict.
Ever since I bagged that first deal out of Deal.com.sg, I’ve been hooked. They appeared out of nowhere and now they seem to be ubiquitous: group voucher sites that offer up to 95(!)% discount for deals ranging from food to spa treatments, from fitness classes to travel packages — the possibilities are endless. Practically half of my daily email are from feeds from Beeconomic.com, AllDealsAsia.com, StreetDeal.com — I’ve even subscribed to Manila feeds like Ensogo.com & DealGrocer.com!
And just like a true addict, when the high hits, your tendency is to crave more. I realized I booked a little too much when some of the spa vouchers I’ve saved up for a rainy day were already past the expiration date. *sob* I think I’ve got it under control lately — no matter how tempting, I no longer spring upon the next $20++ 1-hour massage deal that comes my way.
I realize that the point of many of these deals is for establishments to attract and have one-on-one face time with patrons who hopefully will like what they offer and go for a, ehem, long-term relationship. Ever the non-committal (not to mention, cheap-o) Ish, I think I finally got the hang of how to deliver the ‘one-night-stand’ talk (i.e. ‘yeah-the-spa-package-was-nice-but-methinks-that’ll-be-it-for-me speech). However, in return for their generosity (and for me not to feel so bad about ripping them off =P), it may be worth the while to whip up reviews for some deals that I actually did manage to book AND claim.
So for how long will this voucher-frenzy last, I wonder? Singapore practically has as many spas as Manila has basketball courts, so I doubt I’ll be running out of pampering options. Maybe when I find the perfect foot massage that I’ll finally declare my undying love to? Perhaps.
“If suicide meant giving up, then I’d be dead by now.”
I got chills from reading. I don’t know whether it was because of the book’s dark theme, or because never had I identified this much with a book character — and he was a grown black man who was also a drunk unemployed thief. It was as if someone has found the words for me to articulate not just my thoughts, but my angry musings.
And to think I almost passed this book up. Powerbooks was having a sale, and although I’ve never heard of the title nor of the author, the premise was promising, so I spared 99 bucks. 99 bucks for this surprise whack in the head. sweet.
I also liked the part wherein the lead was asked the quintessential question, ‘Have you ever been in love?’. He did not pretend to stare off deeply and say ‘yes’; for him, if others described love as like gravity for its unexplicable but irrefutable attraction, then he was a floating astronaut. ditto.
thumbs up for walter mosley.
Mind-blowing story, but not nearly as mind-blowing as the storytelling. But what do you expect from the writer of Fight Club? Bravo. Not only did it keep me hooked, it was an unexpected source of subtle Ayn Rand-ish insight. Two points etched:
(1) The What Now? Phenomenon
From high school to college to post-graduate studies, we try hard to ingrain as much technique and technical mastery as possible. Come graduation, here we are, erudites in our own respective fields, and we still find ourselves lacking in the one thing schools can’t assure you — inspiration. It’s kind of sad, us adept and driven, but without direction. After beating ourselves to a pulp, we’re still missing our why-isque what (or that what-tic why, if you prefer). Then we curse the unschooled genius who comes along and whips up the excellent from nothing. Dang.
(2) Everything’s our diary. All that we touch, all that we make are telltales of who we are. The colors we choose. The words we pick. The stains on your clothes. What’s in your bag. What’s not in your bag. Everything’s a tattler.
A long-overdue wake-up call for me. I think this piece of fiction holds more promise than any self-help book out there (not that I’ve ever been a fan of self-help books). I’m barely past halfway, and already its words have already seeped through how I think, process, accept, and reject things. A good guide for the lost, for those putting up with a streak of defeat, or for those settling for just leaning on life’s inertia. I love how its lines overwhelm me, that I just have to stop and let the words just linger for a while.
Of course, like any other insight, it should not be mistaken for wisdom. For knowledge without action remains simply as that — knowledge. Or worse, folly.