I chanced upon the latest results of Guardian Unlimited's contest for the best Brit blogs. I'm a big fan of Online Blog, the Guardian's web trends and technology blog. So the I expected the winning blogs really be the best of British blogging.

I'm currently reading two of the winners that stirred my interest. One's called Belle de Jour authored by a London call girl. Although one may find it hard to get past the steamy (at times erotic, even!) entries and appreciate the writing instead, I would have to admit it will keep me interested for a long while. The writing is great, staright-forward, and very realistic. What can I say? The lady knows what she wants! It's everyday life from a different perspective.

The other is Call Centre Confidential, authored by an "anonymous" call center team manager. If there is one thing I must admire about the Brits, its their humor. This blog is a great example. Help yourselves to a chuckle or two. Read it.

I wandered over to Sitemeter.com to check my blog's stats. I haven't checked on them for quite a while now. I was dismayed at the dismal number of hits I've been getting these las few weeks. It's not like I want to be a top-rated blog or someting, but anything consistenly above ten hits a day would be fine.

Anyway, Sitemeter also has a tracker of "referrals" which records what webpage a visitor went to before coming to my site. Not really useful but interesting really, if you need to know what keywords people are using on search engines which eventaully lead to your page. I got hits from searches for diced hopia, siopao, crema de fruta, ref cake, Elvis Presley's peanut butter-banana sandwich, Bob Ong, bobongpinoy.com and Rosanna Roces. Hmmm... makes it quite obvious what I want to gab about. And while we are on the subject of food, lemme thank Tatang Retong of Tatang's Karinderia for linking to my blog.

Yesterday night, a butterfly flew into the house as I opened our front door. I tried to shoo it away, leaving nearby doors and windws open. It didnt work. I left for work last night, the butterfly still fluttering around the edges of our ceiling.

Being Filipino, I half-believed old superstition that says butterflies are manifestations of the departed. That belief has survived almost 400 years of colonial rule and cultural subjugation. Who am I to argue its validity? Anyway, I forgot all about it and went to work.

This morning, I came home and started doing the laundry. Since I usually come home at around 5:30 am, I had time to do some chores before I went to sleep. I was halfway done when I noticed the butterfly. It had come outside and was sitting on the cement floor right next to the door. As gust after gust whipped by, it sat there unmoved, wings swaying almost violently at times to the breeze. I was struck by a sudden realization. It had come to my home to die. And I was amazed by the stillness of the poor thing. It's as if it had accepted its fate and was at peacae with it.

I then turned to myself. I knew I was afraid to die. I feared death just like any other person. I often wonder if I will come to peace with my own passing, once it comes. After I finished the last of the laundry, I glanced at the butterfly one more time. It lay lifeless on its side, the breeze still blowing upon its wings as if telling it to fly one last time. Alas, it will fly no more. The flutter of its wings has been extinguished forever. I felt a tear form in my eye, but I knew it was not for the butterfly, rather for myself.

Darn! I forgot to click on PUBLISH the last time I posted an entry.

Yesterday night,a butterfly flew into the house as I opened our front door. I tried to shoo it away, leaving nearby doors and windws open. It didnt work. I left for work last night,the butterfly still fluttering around the edges of our ceiling.
Being Filipino, I half-believed old superstition that says butterflies are manifestations of the departed.That belief has survived almost 400 years of colonial rule and cultural subjugation. Who am I to argue its validity? Anyway, I forgot all about it and went to work.
This morning, I came home and started doing the laundry. Since I usually come home at around 5:30 am, I had time to do some chores before I went to sleep. I was halfway done when I noticed the butterfly. It had come outside and was sitting on the cement floor right next to the door. As gust after gust whipped by, it sat there unmoved, wings swaying almost violently at times to the breeze. I was struck by a sudden realization. It had come to my home to die. And I was amazed by the stillness of the poor thing. It's as if it had accepted its fate and was at peacae with it.
I then turned to myself. I knew I was afraid to die. I feared death just like any other person. I often wonder if I will come to peace with my own passing, once it comes. After I finished the last of the laundry, I glanced at the butterfly one more time. It lay lifeless on its side, the breeze still blowing upon its wings as if telling it to fly one last time. Alas, it will fly no more. The flutter of its wings has been extinguished forever. I felt a tear form in my eye, but I knew it not for the butterfly, rather for myself.

This morning, as I was on my way out of the office, I was assaulted by a barrage of people greeting me a "merry christmas." I only managed a feeble "merry christmas" back and a wane smile. I was afterall preoccupied with what was to happen tonight. It was Chrsitmas eve and I would be working the whole night.

To say we're swamped with our current workload is an understatement. We've been busy because of the Christmas season highs. And Christmas eve was the most inoportune time to be working. You'd be away from your family during one of the most important holidays, and you'll have to bear a heavy workload. Double whammy.

So I'd like to apologize for not having the initiative to greet everyone a Merry Christmas. But do greet me when our paths cross. I'll still greet you back and give you a warm smile from the heart. Merry Chistmas! :-]

For the love of vegetables! Veggie Porn is for the connoisseur, not for the weak of heart.

Have you heard of Google Bombs? Well, Bush is really getting hits on his official bio after hundreds (who knows, they may number in the thousands) of bloggers created links like this ===> "miserable failure" .

I had it again. Lately, my waking moments have been haunted by this fleeting memory of a recurring dream. The dream isn't actually the same everytime, but it feels the same. I always feel abject terror run down my spine at the sudden realization I am alone -- absolutely alone.

It seems innocently enough whe it begins with me travelling through some sort of time portal that takes me to the future. When I get there, I know the year but not the day. In the dream, the first thing I do is tell myself what year it is. In each dream though, the year is different. I then cautiously look around. In each dream, the landscpae is different. In one, I come to a urbanized placed filled with so much ruble, as if war had come to that place. One time, I was in an endless grassy field -- no trees, no animals, no nothing. Just grass in a field that seemed to stretch on to forever.

As soon as I realize I am alone, fear starts to build-up. I try to fight off the nagging suspicion that I am the only person left in this planet, but my fear grows uncontrolably in my chest. Terror begins to grip me, as I finally accept the truth and could only mutter "the world ends on XXXX." I come to my knees. I wake up. The details of the dream float in the air and then disappear one by one, only to leave me asking "why?"

A few weeks ago, I was rummaging through some of my old stuff and I happened upon a 3-year old letter. I was supposed to mail it but had forgotten. I had lost touch with the person I was supposed to send it to. That letter was suppose to rekindle a frienship gone cold with the passing of years. That effort failed when I forgot such a simple thing -- I forgot to mail it. That day, I couldn't take the letter off my mind. So I dug up the half-forgotten telephone directory that sat on our office desk at home like a relic. I looked up her old home address and called. I got to talk to her Kuya. Understadably, he said he would have to ask his sister about giving me the info. You can't be too careful with strangers on the phone.

Then 2 weeks passed. I had passing thoughts about my seemingly strange request (to her Kuya). I was contemplating calling again, but hesitated I might be tagged as someone delibirately gathering private information. Social engineering by phone, so to speak.

So you could imagine my surprise when a few days ago I received an anonymous text message with her email address. The message also informed me though that she might not reply immediately because she was busy with work. I emailed her anyway. I sent it yesterday. By a strange stroke of luck, she replied today. That was quick! Those five lines of text made me smile. They weren't necessarily profound. Just a few words saying she was glad I wrote. But, it meant a whole lot to me. It should. I haven't heard from her in 8 years. I just sent a long reply to ellicit a lengthier reply from her.

It's a great feeling to be reunited, albeit only electronically, with an old friend :-)