Tedium vitae.

1. You sleep at 11 the night before, wake up at 5am the following morning, and spend the day training geeks to become geekier. Repeat every other day.

2. You view the same Friendster/Facebook profiles every day and wonder why your friends' primary photos or names (Arthur then Arthritis then Anthurium) have been changing by the minute.

3. You go to the same fastfood each day, order and eat the same food, and promise not to go back there again.

You are a zombie, a cyborg, an android programmed to do things ad nauseam, ad infinitum. You are useless. You are nothing. This is nothing.

Mobility. Or lack of it.

GLobe's 3G service is nil, if not nonexistent. More often than not, you get disconnected; the signal fluctuates wildly from GPRS to 3G and you're not even in the toilets. You try to download an important application (one that could actually help the country in its efforts to combat poverty, bwahaha) and it's like waiting for five thousand Godots. I should've known I'm better off with Smart when it comes to Internet browsing via mobile phones. (Don't mention Sun. Sun and 3G, you say? Have you gone mad?)

And I can't even use the PC Suite CD that came with the dang phone since my lappy runs on Ubuntu (not Windoze)! Those frigging Nokia guys should do something about it! Under WINE, the latest Suite version is considered garbage. Did you hear that Nokia people? Garbage!

A Portrait of the Dork as a Dork

This Dork enters the room, swaggers like everyone else is something with which to wipe his feet on. He rubs his chin with his right index finger and proceeds to sneer at every one that crosses his path. The black shirt he wears is his fashion statement; he is one of those adolescents who hate the world and subscribe to every punk-slash-gothic statements available and black, being the perceived color of rebellion or nonconformity, is his favorite. His nails may have been once black, too. As a matter of fact, he had them painted with black nail polish to complement his wardrobe, and the gradual disappearance of the color--'the whitening of black,' you may call it--is due to time and wear and tear and not, say, to his paradigm shift, which he is incapable of doing.

This Dork belongs to a group of angry, stupid, zit-faced adolescents. Of course, the old adage "birds of the same feather flock together" applies to them, what do you think. His friends also wear black or anything dark: navy blue, dark blue, blue green, olive green, and what-have-you. They all sport the same haircut popularly known as 'skinhead', which basically is not a hair cut if one really thinks about it. At times, this Dork loiters with his friends on the benches of the campus. Together, they form a clique whose activities include going to parties and making scenes (their common concept of dancing is jumping and head-banging), pickling their livers with gallons of alcohol, and turning their lungs into raging seas of phlegm by lighting Marlboro reds or Winston or whatever coffin nails are available. Together, they believe in chaos and in the benefits of war, and don't like Christianity, it being a long-established religion that professes common love and peace.

This Dork thinks he is numb and in doing so, he keeps his associations with other people to a minimum. He always wants to feel "very numb because only then I can be happy." To further demonstrate his "unusual ability," he proceeds to explain that he tried committing suicide for several times in the past only that he never succeeded because a few seconds before the "sacred act," he had always changed his mind.

This Dork takes special interests in all things macabre and gruesome. He finds delight in what most people would otherwise consider gruesome and emetic, such as pictures of intestines going out of women's stomachs or of children's brains splattered on the pavement. His tolerance for such things is way too high; he can perhaps eat arroz caldo or ginat-an while surfing www.ogrish.com website or watching the Texas Chainsaw Massacre on surround-sound. He thinks such acts of barbarism isn't sinful, and thus professes that killing is "not bad, it is very okay."

If in the future you find yourself in some dark alley getting knifed by this Dork, don't say I didn't warn you.