Monday, October 06, 2003


Some offenses are unbloggable, despite your sudden near-overwhelming need to vent, especially if the same are committed by the people most close to you. Too many unsavory consequences if these events were made public knowledge-- the loss of face, personal and family prestige, not to mention the goodwill of everyone else at large. It's sitches like these-- offenses that beg to be recorded, yet threaten to scream bloody murder if anyone reads about them-- that rank high on the list of my vexations.

OPlan Zero Backlog

Shameless appropriation, I know. But at the time, nothing was more apt to describe the process. It was both motto and mindset: my rallying cry every time I got behind on my Visual Communication plates. And it worked too, until sometime in my third year at the "College of Fighting Arts" (another Dex Lira in-joke: you fought your teachers, you fought the administrative office who claimed your grades did not exist, you fought your peers for those precious class slots...)

I'd put up a sign in my room, very reminiscent of those predominantly yellow PLDT signs warning pedestrians and motorists to stay clear of this or that part of the road. OPLAN ZERO BACKLOG. DEX AT WORK. I would, returning from an early evening video game session with the old gang, retire to my room, sleep a bit and wake up at 0200 so I could properly begin.

I feel like putting up the sign again, partly just for kicks. Partly because I miss the old gang when we were still a gang. Partly because I have to psych myself into "project mode" as I have a lot of plans left unaccomplished. Partly because the family's turned my room and workspace into yet another shop-- this time to cater to the needs of the "postally challenged and correspondence-needy." Partly because I no longer have a proper place to sleep when I'm not in Pasay City.

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