I like the smell of Bleach

Beach is a very common household cleaning agent that's been around for a while now. People born before the mid 90's know it as Clorox. Now, however, it is now known by the name Zonrox. Both Clorox and Zonrox are actually brand names of bleach. The only use of bleach i know of from back in the day was for stain removal. It is harsh on the hands and leaves an indescribably unique smell. Back in the day when we didn't have washing machines, we had to touch the bleach in order to apply it to the stain. In some cases we leave the whites to soak in soap water with bleach for about a day to remove those stains that cannot be rubbed of by hand washing.
While surfing the internet a while back, i discovered another use for bleach. Apparently, it can be used to make designs in dark-dyed fabric. Since bleach is used to remove stains, imagine the dye on your black shirt as a stain. Apply bleach and your get a white spot. That's right! Bleach eats the dye of most cotton or cotton-blend fabrics around. Now, making a stencil, put it on the shirt, get a spray bottle, fill it with bleach, and spray on the stencil. The holes on the stencil will allow bleach to make contact with the fabric, leaving you with a bleached design literally tattooed on your shirt. You can never remove the design...not unless you bleach the whole shirt white.
I tried doing shirt designs with bleach, made a few mistakes here and there, but generally, the designs were works of art in their own right. This project of mine was put on hold until recently. Now, i think i will restart my bleach designs again. Seeing that clothes are a need of humans and of course, who wouldn't want a radical shirt that has a permanent design on it?
I have developed a bit of tolerance to the smell of bleach and I have come to know the unique smell of it. In the following weeks, i might post some of my shirts here. I will be putting my knives project on hold for a while since i lost most of my research on knives because my portable drive got busted.

Batman vs. Joker: When an unstoppable force meets an immovable object.

What will happen when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object? Total entertainment!
But seriously, in terms of physics, what will happen? I'd like to hear your thoughts on this. I know you can derive a lot of metaphors from phychology to thermodynamics. Post away!

Lost technology

Growing up in the house of an artist/inventor is great. I remember when I was a kid, I would enter his workplace and watch him paint, sometimes welding stuff, sometimes pounding on something. It was amazing to watch him working with tools that he himself made to make a specific task much easier. I remember one contraption of his that simply amazed me. It was a gasoline welder. That's right! A gasoline fueled welder. I didn't get to see much of the details of the thing, but what i do remember is that most of its parts are made of bronze. Its nozzle was actually from an old machine gun bullet casing. A .50 calibre shell casing from the 2nd world war. it had a rubber hose connected to a metal container that is made out of a spent bomb shell casing. it was rather large and heavy. This is where the gasoline was poured. The gas tank is then connected to an air compressor. A regulator is used to control the air pressure. When the uses the welder, he lights up the nozzle just like you would on an acetylene welder. he carefully controls the airflow with two air valved on the welder. In no time, a blue beam of flame would appear on the nozzle. Although it couldn't be as hot as an acetylene welder, you could make it hot enough to melt bronze. And if you think about it, its fuel is just a pint of regular gasoline as compared to an expensive acetylene welder with 2 high pressure tanks of acetylene and oxygen. Pretty much inexpensive to operate and downright cheap to make as most of its parts are from recycled bronze tubes and WW2 shell casings.
I came home one time to find out that a certain family member took the welder. And knowing who took it, got me really worried. By now the welder would have been destroyed and or sold or given away to someone. The one who took it had no respect for those kind of stuff. Things he borrows and takes literally get destroyed due to utter carelessness. This actually led me to believe that he had no respect toward the owner/maker. I could go on and on about this person, but that wont bring back what is lost.
The artist died 2 years ago and the technology died with him. I didn't get the chance to study his invention to have it patented and replicated so that his legacy will live on through me. I know the basics of how his invention worked, but the details of it have eluded me. How i wish the artist was still alive. I have so many questions to ask him. I want his legacy to live on, and i want to take that responsibility. I am but his grandson, but i believe he would have wanted me to take care of his inventions.

Home has R&R written all over it

Its true. For someone who is away from home most of the year, home is definitely the best R&R spot in the world. The smell of the familiar air, the site of familiar faces and scenes, the sound of the birds chirping in the morning, the warm sun, the cold rain in the afternoon, the cool breeze at night, ...there is no place like home. Oh yeah, the feel of my own bed, the ambiance of my own room, the smell of my old clothes..... Aaaahhh!
Going home for me is a priviledge. Yup i went home during the lenten season and it was great! Although i wish i had more time to spend at home. I once again had the chance to rumage around my old stuff that some people may consider junk, but they are my treasures. My room is full of stuff people would generally throw away. I have old coins, old books, old magazines, old wooden boxes, old clothes, peices of paper that are older than me. Things that remind me of the things past especially my childhood and of course stuff that remind me of my late grandfather. He is the source of most of the old stuff in me room. I keep his old cameras, air brushes, pantographs, some of his old paintings, etc. I have enough stuff to make a small museum and all of these are stuffed in my room. It makes me sad sometimes to think i no longer live in our house and no longer sleep in my own room. I can imagine my room when i am not in it and its just a sad sight. Its green walls seem lifeless and void. My mom probably changes the bedsheets still even though no one is going to sleep on my bed. Its always ready should i return home at anytime.
Being the computer geek of the family, the first thing my parents make me do is fix the computer. Reformat and reinstall, remove viruses and stuff. After that, i have all the time going through my old stuff and just be lazy. Spend time with my siblings, my cousins, "pamangkins", and some friends.
Did i mention the food? Heaven!!!! nothing beats food from my own home. Of course i may be a bit biased since thats my home i'm talking about.

Coffee Break for Two

Woke up in the morning, to a bright Sunday;

Took a bath, got dressed and went on my way;

At a distance you were there, and I don’t know why;

Suddenly I found myself, right there by your side.

Was it fate that led me there? ‘Cos it wasn’t my intention;

But I can say this for sure, it was divine intervention.

In that coffee break for two, I never thought it could be;

The two of us together, smiling happily;

I knew by your smile that you felt it too;

Something beautiful was starting, in that coffee break for two.

We found out as we talked, that we had a lot in common;

I prayed really hard that it would go on and on;

The conversation with you, it brought such joy;

Joy that I was certain, I never felt before.

Was it fate that led me there? ‘Cos it wasn’t my intention;

But I can say this for sure, it was divine intervention.

In that coffee break for two, I never thought it could be;

The two of us together, smiling happily;

I knew by your smile that you felt it too;

Something beautiful was starting, in that coffee break for two.

I kept thinking of you, as the days went on;

The events that transpired caused me great confusion;

It took prayer and supplication, to find a resolution;

Until that fateful day, when I found my reason.

Was it fate that led me there? ‘Cos it wasn’t my intention;

But I can say this for sure, it was divine intervention.

In that coffee break for two, I never thought it could be;

The two of us together, smiling happily;

I knew by your smile that you felt it too;

Something beautiful was starting, in that coffee break for two.

In that coffee break for two, I never thought it could be;

The two of us together, smiling happily;

I knew by your smile that you felt it too;

My forever started with you, in that coffee break for two.

Return to the Kubo of the Knowledge of Good and Evil

Walking through the gates of Montreal Garden Resort brought back memories. Memories of events that happened a year ago in the same place. I noticed the minor changes to the place, but it still looked pretty much the same. The furniture, the ambiance, the wishing well, the rooms, the pool, and the kubo.
I was part of the first batch to participate in the Youth Ministries Singles Retreat last year. I was quite apprehensive about the thought of me being a participant. I was always used to being the facilitator and not the participant. Another reason was because i didn't see the point of it all. I was, at the time, courting a girl from the south. To attend a singles retreat, for me, would mean i wasn't serious about her and that meant betrayal in my book. I tried to have as much fun as I could, but most of the time i preferred being alone. Detaching myself from everyone was my rebellious cry against the system that put me where i truly believed i didn't belong to. I never thought that my actions would catch the attention of anyone. I was confident that i was cruising in stealth mode, far beyond the range of anyone's radar. I was dead wrong.
Waking up on the last day of the retreat, gave me confidence that i have eluded everyone. My plan for the day was set; avoid everyone by looking around for scorpions. I had it all pictured in my head, play a few games with the participants then go directly to the pool to cool off. Again, my plan failed. I'm not a morning person, but on that Sunday morning i was up early. i even took a bath and dressed up for a rugged day. In my head i kept saying to myself, "Dont talk to anyone! You woke up to look for scorpions." As i walked past the dining hall and about to cross the bridge, my concentration was broken. Someone was standing at the entrance to the hall. She was alone, drinking coffee. A force drew me to her, and before i knew it, i was already asking if i could join her. There goes my "look for scorpions day."
Our conversation was somewhat unorthodox for two people who barely know each other. She describes it as a history lecture because i was constantly babbling about my home town. Our conversation shifted to translating words to our native dialects. Words such as love, i miss you, will you marry me, ...etc. Our conversation was interrupted by the call for the morning devotional. As we made our way to the morning worship, i thought to myself, "Bitin! oh well, i probably wont get another chance to talk to her."
After the morning breakfast, i went for my usual solitary walk. I was enjoying the view when suddenly, there she was, walking at a distance. I tried to catch her attention by clapping, but she didn't seem to notice me. I followed her, and found her by the bahay kubo. The magic that started during the morning coffee continued at the kubo.
I was assigned to organize the 2nd batch. It was my turn to be the facilitator. The planning and preparation was very stressful. It was frustrating especially because there were very few participants this time around. The guys outnumbered the girls by three, and our female facilitators had to fill in the blanks. My brain was on overdrive in all the activities. I'm pretty sure my blood pressure was high during the retreat. I kept wondering if the same magic that happened last year would also happen to a lucky couple this year.
The magic came about a bit earlier than expected. The same as the magic in the past retreat, it happened like clock work. Perfect timing after perfect timing. I can truly say the hand of the Lord was directing it all. At one point i was actually afraid that people might think I set it all up...that the whole thing was rigged, but there was no human intervention. I believe it was divine intervention.
At the last hours of the retreat, Joy and I reminisced at the events of the year that passed and how it all started in Montreal at the kubo of the knowledge of good and evil.
I am glad that this year God once again blessed us with new relationships and new friends. We are fortunate to be witnesses to a new relationship that blossomed during this retreat. By the way, the kubo of the knowledge of good and evil has been superceeded by the pool of bethesda. I wonder whats next....garden of gethsemane perhaps?

Choco Mallows and my eventual sadness

As a child i grew up where stuff like Choco Mallows were not your average candy in the store. They were extra special and we don't get them often. A box would last for 3 days to a week. It was a real treat. A box contained 6 biscuits topped with a large, half-moon shaped, marshmallow, and covered in chocolate. I remember the joy I felt when i peeled off the foil wrapper gently; making sure the foil doesn't tear apart. The suspense mounts as little by little, the brown treasure within the silver shell reveals itself. I remember i used to eat it from top to bottom. I'd dig my teeth into the mallows first, and finish it off with a crunch on the biscuit.
For the sake of travelling back to those memories, i bought myself a box just now. To my shock and dismay, i saw 6 small choco mallows in the box. The wrapper clearly too big for the treasure within. I was sure the box didnt change, but the contents sure did. The mallows have suddenly shrunk to 3/4 its original size. Not to be subdued by the shocking revelation, i picked one up, gently peeled away the silver foil, making sure not to tear it. The once great choco mallow was now just three quarters of its former self. I munched it down in three bites. The taste sure hasnt changed. It tasted like 20 or so years ago, when mom would come home from work with a box of choco mallows just for me.
Sadness overcame me when i looked inside the box and saw the remaining five, peculiarly small choco mallows. I thought to myself, "Times sure have changed. Some things cant be brought back the way they were. I would hate to see the day that choco mallows would just be the size of peanuts."