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Archive for May, 2011

On Friday, May 27, I tweeted what I considered to be my most ‘creative’ tweet of the year. I got some unfollows for it, probably because the content was a bit too ‘sexual’ although I don’t believe that.

This is a quick post is to memorialize that tweet and to remind myself that you can’t please everyone. So here goes:

The hardest part about being a man can be found in his crotch area.

I don’t crack ‘gems’ like that every day ;)


PS: I hear a lot of sentences that begin with “The hardest part about being a man” or “The hardest part about being a woman” and they are always generalizations and personal interpretations. That’s why I thought I’d make a similar statement that was more ‘scientifically accurate’.

PPS: Too many ‘quote marks’ in this post. I think that quoting yourself is not a sign of arrogance as much as it’s a sign of punctuation abuse. Report it :)

I admire man’s thorough pursuit of advancement in wireless technology.

Modern man’s complaining that all his technology is crowding his humble home with wires, causing fire hazards and aesthetic imbalance and whatnot. His next step in technological development was, naturally, to go wireless.

Bluetooth, Wi-fi… wireless headsets, mics, tvs, computers, telephones. Man wants to get rid of the wires.

It seems we’ve gone about full-circle. From caveman, most of whose entertainment was “wireless” (e.g. drawing on a wall, or playing with pebbles, or something), to ultra-modern man who is, dare I say, equally bored, and whose entertainment is also becoming “wireless”.

Once again, man is inventing in order to go back to basics. Need is no longer the mother of invention… Yearning is.

I love Lego.

And what made me love it even more was the origin of the name.

Created in 1934 from the Danish phrase “leg godt,” which means “play well,” the name LEGO was later found to mean “I put together” in Latin—the perfect description for this beloved children’s toy company.

Wonderful coincidences!

Lego has always been with me, growing up. It also resembles what I love to do the most: to break down ideas and reassemble them. I love you, Lego.

On some days

I wear my goose bumps

like armor

and step out into the world

carrying my fragility

like a weapon.



I step out

into a war I didn’t start.

A war I can’t end.



It’s easy to break me.

But when I break I shatter

into poetry;

into sharp


of hand-painted glass.




I will slice the hand that broke me.



When I break,

(because I do break)

I can’t be put back together.

Well, maybe I could,

but I won’t look like I did before.

Maybe I’ll look better.

I took this photo in Vienna late in the summer of 2010. I took it upside down on purpose, because the sky looked like a river. No need to turn your heads or anything. Just look at it the way it is, and imagine that you are on a rooftop looking down onto a river of clouds. Wait for a fish to jump out of the ‘water’.


As I was saying earlier, Sherlock Holmes really influenced the way I conducted my childhood.

The first thing I did was to attempt to apply his logic on my mundane daily happenings. I tried to ‘deduce’ which side my father had shaved with his left hand (based on where he shaved worst); where the light was with respect to my mom as she baked the cake (based on how the icing was crooked); or try to guess which mud came from which garden; and, because there were no murder mysteries to be found in my neighborhood, who stole my coins.

All my deductions were wrong, obviously. My faculty of logic sucked. I could never be a detective and solve mysteries, surely.

But what did happen was even better. My insistence on ‘deduction’ meant I had to keep my eyes open all the time. And by looking at people’s hands, feet, noses, eyes, and mouths, I learned to guess small useless facts about them.

Continue reading ‘birth of a detective — part 2’ »

The question I get asked the most on Twitter (and Formspring) is: Are those your own tweets? Hence, I had to change my profile bio to its current state, emphasizing that I’m not possessed by the devil and whatnot.

And what a wonderful topic to explore on my first post. But this isn’t about the profile, or the question. It’s about the tweets themselves, a dissection of the brainwork behind them. I don’t think it’s fair to summarize the process into one or two (or even thousands of) steps. But I do want to tell a story. Why not?

By the time I was in Grade 6, around 11 years old, I had read quite an impressive number of books. That number is 0. Ok, maybe impressive in a negative way. And not counting schoolbooks, of course. I had not read a book outside of the curriculum, and, if my life had gone on the way I wanted, I would have probably continued to not read a book. Why read when I’ve got the TV to keep me entertained.

But in Grade 6, I ran into that inevitable moment when someone’s life takes a turn for its fate.

Continue reading ‘birth of a detective — part 1’ »