Halloween Signature courtesy of Irish Dianne. Thanks! :D
What's My Name's Hidden Meaning?
Hmmm...
* * * * *
You are friendly, charming, and warm. You get along with almost everyone. You work hard not to rock the boat. Your easy going attitude brings people together. At times, you can be a little flaky and irresponsible. But for the important things, you pull it together.
You are very intuitive and wise. You understand the world better than most people. You also have a very active imagination. You often get carried away with your thoughts. You are prone to a little paranoia and jealousy. You sometimes go overboard in interpreting signals.
You are loving, compassionate, and ruled by your feelings. You are able to be a foundation for other people... but you still know how to have fun. Sometimes your emotions weigh you down, but you generally feel free from them.
You are wild, crazy, and a huge rebel. You're always up to something. You have a ton of energy, and most people can't handle you. You're very intense. You definitely are a handful, and you're likely to get in trouble. But your kind of trouble is a lot of fun.
I Black!
I got this again from my friend Sheila who just turned 23 yesterday. Belated Happy Birthday! :D
According to her email, this poem was nominated by UN as the best poem of 2008 and was written by an African Kid. Cool! :D
When I born, I black
When I grow up, I black
When I go in sun, I black
When I scared, I black
When I sick, I black
And when I die, I still black
And you white fellow
When you born, you pink
When you grow up, you white
When you go in sun, you red
When you cold, you blue
When you scared, you yellow
When you sick, you green
And when you die, you gray
And you calling me colored?
When I grow up, I black
When I go in sun, I black
When I scared, I black
When I sick, I black
And when I die, I still black
And you white fellow
When you born, you pink
When you grow up, you white
When you go in sun, you red
When you cold, you blue
When you scared, you yellow
When you sick, you green
And when you die, you gray
And you calling me colored?
Just Wishing...
Who wouldn't like that? You're definitely the luckiest girl ever if you're treated like that.
But just like what I said, I'm just wishing.
Because sometimes or most of the time, you can't teach a guy to love you the way you want to be loved. You just have to wait for him to find a way to your heart...
It's Morphing Time!
Boring Wednesday! Good thing I came across with this site. :D
MorphThing allows you to morph either your own or celebrity photos into one.
The site gives detailed instructions on how to upload and morph your photos so it's so easy to use. You can also integrate this to your website, blog, MySpace or Facebook for free. Isn't that fun?
I have no luck morphing myself into anyone so I have Kristen Kreuk and Vanessa Hudgens here instead.
Pretty isn't it? :)
Please Hear What I'm Not Saying...
I read this poem when I was in high school and fell in love with it immediately. I am definitely touched by its message. Hope you'll like it too. :)
Don't be fooled by me.
Don't be fooled by the face I wear
For I wear a mask, a thousand masks,
Masks that I'm afraid to take off
And none of them is me.
Pretending is an art that's second nature with me,
but don't be fooled,
for God's sake don't be fooled.
I give you the impression that I'm secure,
that all is sunny and unruffled with me,
within as well as without,
that confidence is my name and coolness my game,
that the water's calm and I'm in command
and that I need no one,
but don't believe me.
My surface may be smooth but
my surface is my mask,
ever-varying and ever-concealing.
Beneath lies no complacence.
Beneath lies confusion, and fear, and aloneness.
But I hide this. I don't want anybody to know it.
I panic at the thought of my weakness exposed.
That's why I frantically create a mask to hide behind,
a nonchalant sophisticated facade,
to help me pretend,
to shield me from the glance that knows.
But such a glance is precisely my salvation,
my only hope, and I know it.
That is, if it is followed by acceptance,
If it is followed by love.
It's the only thing that can liberate me from myself
from my own self-built prison walls
from the barriers that I so painstakingly erect.
It's the only thing that will assure me
of what I can't assure myself,
that I'm really worth something.
But I don't tell you this. I don't dare to. I'm afraid to.
I'm afraid you'll think less of me,
that you'll laugh, and your laugh would kill me.
I'm afraid that deep-down I'm nothing
and that you will see this and reject me.
So I play my game, my desperate, pretending game
With a façade of assurance without
And a trembling child within.
So begins the glittering but empty parade of Masks,
And my life becomes a front.
I tell you everything that's really nothing,
and nothing of what's everything,
of what's crying within me.
So when I'm going through my routine
do not be fooled by what I'm saying.
Please listen carefully and try to hear what I'm not saying,
what I'd like to be able to say,
what for survival I need to say,
but what I can't say.
I don't like hiding.
I don't like playing superficial phony games.
I want to stop playing them.
I want to be genuine and spontaneous and me
but you've got to help me.
You've got to hold out your hand
even when that's the last thing I seem to want.
Only you can wipe away from my eyes
the blank stare of the breathing dead.
Only you can call me into aliveness.
Each time you're kind, and gentle, and encouraging,
each time you try to understand because you really care,
my heart begins to grow wings --
very small wings,
but wings!
With your power to touch me into feeling
you can breathe life into me.
I want you to know that.
I want you to know how important you are to me,
how you can be a creator--an honest-to-God creator --
of the person that is me
if you choose to.
You alone can break down the wall behind which I tremble,
you alone can remove my mask,
you alone can release me from the shadow-world of panic,
from my lonely prison,
if you choose to.
Please choose to.
Do not pass me by.
It will not be easy for you.
A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls.
The nearer you approach me
the blinder I may strike back.
It's irrational, but despite what the books may say about man
often I am irrational.
I fight against the very thing I cry out for.
But I am told that love is stronger than strong walls
and in this lies my hope.
Please try to beat down those walls
with firm hands but with gentle hands
for a child is very sensitive.
Who am I, you may wonder?
I am someone you know very well.
For I am every man you meet
and I am every woman you meet.
Don't be fooled by the face I wear
For I wear a mask, a thousand masks,
Masks that I'm afraid to take off
And none of them is me.
Pretending is an art that's second nature with me,
but don't be fooled,
for God's sake don't be fooled.
I give you the impression that I'm secure,
that all is sunny and unruffled with me,
within as well as without,
that confidence is my name and coolness my game,
that the water's calm and I'm in command
and that I need no one,
but don't believe me.
My surface may be smooth but
my surface is my mask,
ever-varying and ever-concealing.
Beneath lies no complacence.
Beneath lies confusion, and fear, and aloneness.
But I hide this. I don't want anybody to know it.
I panic at the thought of my weakness exposed.
That's why I frantically create a mask to hide behind,
a nonchalant sophisticated facade,
to help me pretend,
to shield me from the glance that knows.
But such a glance is precisely my salvation,
my only hope, and I know it.
That is, if it is followed by acceptance,
If it is followed by love.
It's the only thing that can liberate me from myself
from my own self-built prison walls
from the barriers that I so painstakingly erect.
It's the only thing that will assure me
of what I can't assure myself,
that I'm really worth something.
But I don't tell you this. I don't dare to. I'm afraid to.
I'm afraid you'll think less of me,
that you'll laugh, and your laugh would kill me.
I'm afraid that deep-down I'm nothing
and that you will see this and reject me.
So I play my game, my desperate, pretending game
With a façade of assurance without
And a trembling child within.
So begins the glittering but empty parade of Masks,
And my life becomes a front.
I tell you everything that's really nothing,
and nothing of what's everything,
of what's crying within me.
So when I'm going through my routine
do not be fooled by what I'm saying.
Please listen carefully and try to hear what I'm not saying,
what I'd like to be able to say,
what for survival I need to say,
but what I can't say.
I don't like hiding.
I don't like playing superficial phony games.
I want to stop playing them.
I want to be genuine and spontaneous and me
but you've got to help me.
You've got to hold out your hand
even when that's the last thing I seem to want.
Only you can wipe away from my eyes
the blank stare of the breathing dead.
Only you can call me into aliveness.
Each time you're kind, and gentle, and encouraging,
each time you try to understand because you really care,
my heart begins to grow wings --
very small wings,
but wings!
With your power to touch me into feeling
you can breathe life into me.
I want you to know that.
I want you to know how important you are to me,
how you can be a creator--an honest-to-God creator --
of the person that is me
if you choose to.
You alone can break down the wall behind which I tremble,
you alone can remove my mask,
you alone can release me from the shadow-world of panic,
from my lonely prison,
if you choose to.
Please choose to.
Do not pass me by.
It will not be easy for you.
A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls.
The nearer you approach me
the blinder I may strike back.
It's irrational, but despite what the books may say about man
often I am irrational.
I fight against the very thing I cry out for.
But I am told that love is stronger than strong walls
and in this lies my hope.
Please try to beat down those walls
with firm hands but with gentle hands
for a child is very sensitive.
Who am I, you may wonder?
I am someone you know very well.
For I am every man you meet
and I am every woman you meet.
By the way, the author of this poem is Charles C. Finn and you can check on him here. :)
To All The Kids Who Were Born In The 1950's, 60's, 70's and early 80's!
Reposting this cool email I got from my friend Sheila.
I have to say I am so proud and happy to be part of this generation - the early 80's. Actually, late 80's. :P
* * * * *
First, some of us survived being born to mothers who did not have an OB-Gyne and drank San Miguel Beer while they carried us.
While pregnant, they took cold or cough medicine, ate isaw, and didn't worry about diabetes.
Then after all that trauma, our baby cribs were made of hard wood covered with lead-based paints, pati na yung walker natin, matigas na kahoy din at wala pang gulong.
We had no soft cushy cribs that play music, no disposable diapers (lampin lang). And when we rode our bikes, we had no helmets, no kneepads, sometimes wala pang preno yung bisikleta.
As children, we would ride in hot un-airconditioned buses with wooden seats (yung JD bus na pula) or cars with no airconditioning and no seat belts. (ngayon lahat may aircon na)
Riding on the back of a carabao on a breezy summer day was considered a treat. (ngayon hindi na nakakakita ng kalabaw ang mga bata)
We drank water from the garden hose and NOT from a bottle purchased from 711. ( minsan straight from the faucet or poso)
We shared one soft drink bottle with four of our friends and NO ONE actually died from this. Or contacted hepatitis.
We ate rice with star margarine, ate raw eggs straight from the shell and drank softdrinks with real sugar in it (hindi coke zero), but we weren't sick or overweight kasi nga...
WE WERE ALWAYS OUTSIDE PLAYING!
We would leave home in the morning and play all day, and get back when the streetlights came on. Sarap magpatintero, tumbang preso, habulan at taguan.
No one was able to reach us all day. ( di uso ang cellphone at walang beepers ) And yes, we were OK.
We would spend hours building our wooden trolleys (yung bearing ang gulong) or plywood slides out of scraps and then ride down the street, only to find out we forgot the brakes! After hitting the sidewalk or falling into a canal (sewerage channel) a few times, we learned to solve the problem ourselves with our bare and dirty hands .
We did not have Playstations, PSP's Nintendo's, X-boxes, no video games at all, no 100 channels on cable, no DVD movies, no surround stereo, no IPOD's, no cell phones, no computers, no Internet, no chat rooms, no Friendster, no YouTube, no Multiply... WE HAD REAL FRIENDS and we went outside to actually talk and play with them!
We fell out of trees, got cut, broken bones and teeth and there were no stupid lawsuits from these accidents. The only rubbing we get is from our friends with the words... "masakit ba?" pero pag galit yung kalaro mo, ang sasabihin sa iyo... "beh buti nga!"
We played marbles (jolens) in the dirt, washed our hands just a little and ate dirty ice cream and fish balls. We were not afraid of getting germs in our stomachs.
We had to live with homemade guns gawa sa kahoy, tinali ng rubberband, sumpit, tirador at kung ano ano pa na puedeng makasakitan. Pero masaya pa rin ang lahat.
We made up games with sticks (syatong), and cans (tumbang preso) and although we were told they were dangerous, wala naman tayong binulag o napatay. Paminsan minsan may nabubukulan lang.
We walked, rode bikes, or took tricycles to a friend's house and knocked on the door or rang the bell, or just yelled for them to jump out the window!
Mini basketball teams had tryouts and not everyone made the team. Those who didn't pass had to learn to deal with the disappointment. Wala yang mga childhood depression at damaged self esteem ek-ek na yan. Ang pikon, talo.
Ang magulang ay nandoon lang para tignan kung ayos lang ang mga bata, hindi para makialam at makipag-away sa ibang parents.
That generation of ours has produced some of the best risk-takers, problem solvers, creative thinkers and successful professionals ever! They are the CEO's, Engineers, Doctors and Military Generals of today.
The past 50 years have been an explosion of innovation and new ideas.
We had failure, success, and responsibility. We learned from our mistakes the hard way. We were lucky to grow up as real kids. We were very lucky indeed. :)
It kind of makes you wanna go out and climb a tree, doesn't it?!
How To Test A Pen By Debasis Pradhan.
As I was just browsing trying to find something about Software Testing, I found this very interesting blog entry of Debasis Pradhan called "How To Test A Pen?".
Such a simple thing and yet she's got about 25 test ideas for it:
1. See if the different components (the barrel, cap, unscrewable head, refill, spring if any etc) of the pen are fitting perfectly. [Installability Testing!]
2. Test the dimension of the pen. Its shape and size should be ergonomically designed so as to result in a comfortable writing experience.
3. Test by writing on a piece of paper. See if you can write smoothly. It should not be writing and stopping with breaks! [Usability Testing!]
4. Test the width of the line drawn by the pen to test the specified millimeter range [FYI: Ballpoint Pens come with different millimeter specifications like - a "point five millimeter" (0.5 mm) pen has a ball that will produce a line that is 0.5-mm wide, and a "point seven millimeter" pen (0.7 mm) has a ball that will produce a 0.7-mm line. Ballpoints even come as tiny as "point one millimeter" wide ("ultra fine")] [Validation Testing!]
5. Test the writing capacity (the amount of writing that is possible from a single refill) of the pen. [Capability/Reliability Testing!]
6. Test if you can carry the pen in your shirt pocket using its cap. The cap extension should be firm enough to grip your pocket! [Robustness Testing!]
7. Test by writing on different types of surfaces like: coarse paper, hard board wrapper, packaging material, glass, leather, cotton, wood, plastic, metals like aluminium or iron, polythene sheet etc. [Compatibility Testing!]
8. Write something on a paper and keep the paper for a reasonable duration of time. The written letters should not fade away over time. Also test by applying water on the writing/drawing made by the pen. See if the ink is water-proof!
9. Test if the ink leaks from the refill under normal circumstances.
10. Test if the ball of the refill head fits into the socket with just enough space to move freely.
Read the rest here. :)
I can't believe Testing can be so mind-boggling. :D
Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word...
A good apology has 3 parts:
1. I'm sorry.
2. It was my fault.
3. How do I make it right?
But a lot of people usually miss the third part.
Shopping Is The Answer!
What's the thing that makes you feel better whenever you're disappointed or depressed?
For me, that would be SHOPPING! :D
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