Networking night

"I'm not feeling lucky today," I tell the woman beside me, as the host announces that she'll be giving away the grand prize to the night's raffle.

It is a round trip ticket, on a pretty posh airline, to any European destination. Economy seats, sure, but still, it's one of those very posh airlines. I watched a promo video of theirs earlier and I swear their seats pretty much resemble those capsule hotels in Tokyo that fascinated me as a kid.

People always say I am lucky when it comes to draws, but if that was the case, I should be winning everything. I did win a phone, only to lose it after four months. The last thing I won was a few months ago, when I got the grand prize in a raffle, in another one of these events I have to attend. What do I do with this? I thought as I looked at the new Apple TV I just won. The following day, I was attempting to watch True Detective again with it.

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For those who will sleep for the whole of September

I wish you the best of luck as you sleep for the whole month of September.

It is an undertaking so immense, not even the laziest of people could finish it and live to tell the tale. Either they have had enough after the first sixteen hours, or their body sustains unfathomable damage. I hope you understand the risks you're taking as you go to such an endeavor. I also hope you reach the results you hope to achieve in this endeavor, whatever that result may be. Really, I never understood.

That said, it is my job to tell you that, while you are asleep, there are things that you will be missing out on. While many who have undertaken this sleep say they aim to escape the troubles that surround them, it is also worth noting that you will also miss out on many good things. Now, I understand that "good" has differing definitions depending on your personality and your state of mine, but I believe we can all agree that there are things we all want to embrace with open arms. But, yes, in this case, you won't be there, at least for a month.

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Have I seen you somewhere before?

I hope the couple in this photo don't find this blog entry and sue the hell out of me. Forgive me. I was bored, and the photo that was originally supposed to be on this blog entry didn't look so good in hindsight.

The last time I was at Pico de Loro, a little over two months ago, I was with Rainy. One last day at the beach, Sunday morning, the sun being harsher than usual, that usual being very harsh to begin with. There were, inevitably, a few people on the beach. Just a couple of families, if you exclude mine.

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It gets to their heads

It does get depressing every morning, turning on the TV and seeing a reporter stationed in one of thirteen MRT stations along EDSA, saying the same thing that we've been told before: it's not yet six in the morning, and the lines are getting long.

Two hours later, I'm already settled into work - I do not have to take the MRT, mostly because it's not where I live anyway - and I see the same lines I saw earlier, only longer. And it goes on and on, for the next two hours, and even if you don't use those trains you feel a bit hopeless anyway. I don't know if it's just me and my infrastructure-centered mindset of late, though. But you do feel a bit hopeless. Are things just this screwed up here?

A few more hours later, you see reactions from exasperated commuters, partly, but mostly from advocacy groups (however you define it) calling for an immediate government response. But they all acknowledge that nothing will be solved if those in power do not experience what us mere paupers experience, so, inevitably, they call on concerned government officials to take the MRT during rush hour. In one case, I saw them call on Noynoy Aquino to take the MRT during rush hour. "Just so he knows what we feel," they argue.

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If only it was that easy

Yesterday we were all speculating about Robin Williams' death, but the few things we did know - his publicist saying he battled "severe" depression, the coroners saying he died of asphyxia - pretty much turned all the assumptions to fact. Robin took his own life.

Everybody was retweeting everybody. Quotes from his films, that shot of Aladdin hugging an emancipated Genie, that Walt Whitman poem. And then there was, again, a discussion on depression, or what seemed like it. That little understood thing - I wouldn't call it illness; I wouldn't know what to call it - has reared its ugly head again, taking away a man who generations loved dearly even if all they know of him is what they see on their screens.

Is it safe to call depression "extreme sadness, verging on suicidal thoughts"? I don't think so. I've been extremely sad before. I've had suicidal thoughts before. I don't know if what I had is depression or a young person's tendency to exaggerate everything to get noticed. That also means I'd get dismissed for, well, exaggerating what I really feel. "Get over it," people would usually say. "You're being too dramatic."

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