Happy birth anniversary

I cannot sleep. Maybe a causal factor is my desire to say something about my late father on his birthday (Yesterday on my timezone).

I am writing this with tears profusely pouring down my eyes while stifling my sobs to not wake my son and my partner up.

I still cannot believe that he is gone and he left us for good. I am used to not having him around physically but when he was still working far from us he regularly called us that we hardly felt the distance. He was consistently bridging every gap that he could ever find while working to provide for us.

Taken yesterday.
We brought him a bottle of beer.

It still hurts not baving him around.

He wanted to be called “Apoy” by my son, but earlier while I was telling my son to bid goodbye to Apoy, he kept on saying “Bye Papang”. That is how we call him.

He could have been 69 yesterday, had he been more careful. I guess I was mad for a very long time. I’d say, I am in denial now. I got all the level of grief mixed up.

Nobody knows how I cry at night, in the bath room, while at work, when I remember him. I remember him everyday. There are just times that the pain is too much to handle that I’d let it all out through crying. But it will never take away the pain. It however, somehow, clears the air, makes room for breathing, for the time being until the sad reality dawns on me again. A cycle.

This was June of 2020. He left us in August, same year.

I wish you were still here because I know that I still need you no matter how old I am. We need you. We love you. </3

Happy Sappy

‘Tay (Dad), I will run along’

Said the girl, timidly approaching the bank premises to bid goodbye to his father who is standing by the door as he all snappily and attentively do his job for the day.

I can see how he transformed from a serious security guard to being a happy father seeing his daughter courteously telling him that she is going home.

When his daughter left, he went back to business. All eyes 👀 to people making sure the bank is secured and everyone inside is safe.

My lacrimal glands live for this kind of moments. I do too.

All of a sudden, I am wiping my tears away.

A moment of a hodgepodge of joy and sadness.

…and envy…

I am happy to see children treating their parents with outmost respect even through little gestures, such as the aforementioned.


It also makes me miss my father more. I do not think I will ever live one day not thinking about him.

Our family getaway in 2015

I wish I could still say goodbye to him and see him again later that day or even after a few days.

Now, all I could do is to think of him. Miss him.

It is so hard to bid goobye forever.

I haven’t yet.

I will get there.

Unexpected portraits

I am not an artist and I hardly appreciate art the way it should be appreciated, not because I am very hard to please but because I am ignorant on that department.

However, unexpectedly, portraits of myself drawn by other people makes me sappy. No matter how I look on their drawings, somehow, they appear beautifully in my eyes. I feel good about myself.

I am sharing several images of myself drawn by my nieces, nephew recently and people I met online more or less 10 years ago.

More than 10 years ago I am a member of a teen forum which members are from different parts of the world. One time, there was a trend- people posting threads that would let anyone sign up and the original posters would draw you on how they picture you to be and they would post their drawings on their respective threads. Here are the three different portraits of moi from that trend.

There! =]

~ J

Thoughts under the radar

Wow! It has been so long. Not close to forever but not close to yesterday either. I can’t even claim it to be a writer’s block because I am not a writer… at least not yet. Although that’s the dream.

While I was away. In hiatus. Under the radar. I thought about a lot of different concepts, different stories in my mind. I dreamed a lot too. They say, “Write them down!” I say, “I cannot.” There is always a gap between my mind and my fingers that I cannot put my thoughts in writing. I cannot even caper the latter to type on my keyboard. Something could be missing.

Now, I am again left with hopes to get into serious writing. The kind that could hopefully land me into something productive, if you know what I mean.

I am not sure about my capabilities. I just know that I want to write. I want to write a story. I want to publish a book. The thoughts of being able to do all of them is enthralling.

I guess the hardest of it all is how to start. Get the basic skills then start. Start, no matter how lame my story is. Start, even if there is no title yet. Start, regardless of how cringe-worthy my plot is. START if and when I cannot. How can I even start?

I know that it’s only I, who can get to the bottom of this. If I won’t, who can do it dor me?

For now, I will endeavor to write one entry per week. Target.

To write a book. Goal.

Dreams. Realities.

Fly the highest. Swim the deepest.

Metamorphose. Explore.

Live and love. Do not worry!

Before I hit the hay

Just like the stars, we shine.

But instead of just dying, and just stop shining,

we can opt to explode instead.

Explode not to cause distress.

But explode to shine even brighter.

Explode not to outshine the sun.

But to help it light up the universe and all the heavenly bodies.

It may only take a few minutes or seconds.

Just like how star’s explosion leave off heavy elements for the universe to consume.

Us…the little acts of kindess.

At least, we made something out of our mortal bodies.

Then we did not die in vain… like the stars.

3:57 a.m.

Moi, the shining caterpillar, =]

Wow! Thank you all! =]

They say, celebrate small wins! I say, of course! Thank you everyone! I started writing again because I wanted to try a new niche in freelancing and inadvertently as an outlet to get over my father’s demise. I am not there yet, but slowly, I am learning and I am feeling a lot better. 🎤🎤🎼🎼Celebrate good times, come on! 🎼🎼🎤🎤

The Roses…

They gracefully dance to the tune of the wind swiftly blowing.

Under the clouds slowly clearing for the blue skies.

While the sun’s rays reaching the flowers’ scarlet red petals, seemingly wanting to touch it. Maybe kiss it. Or embrace it.

The roses.

Feeling the incessant pouring of the rain.

Accepting the full glory.

Washing away all the bugs trying to ruin the nature’s gift of beauty.

With the promise of growth and never ending bliss.

The roses.

Which roots lie in the depths of their flourishing soil.

Keeping their strength as their stems hold on to the end.

Their thorns protecting them from the vermin of this vile realm.

The roses.

Do not wither in their natural course.

Do not grow old.

They succumb to someone else’s happiness or grief.

Is there even an in between? or just a small gap to fill?

The roses.

How do they feel?

That they need to face death to serve the people who once served them.

The roses.

Do they really die?

Or they live on…

humans’ happy memories.



I do not own the photo. Credits to the owner.

This movie works around a solid storyline and very unconventional plot. The build-up is efficient. There are no unnecessary sequences. It is a million times better than the first one ( I love Dylan Minette, don’t get me wrong). It has a fair ending. I do not usually like tragic endings but I think this one is better off to end that way. People have to pay the price of what they have done and what they have failed to do and face the consequences of their actions (and inactions?). Phoenix deserves better people in her life. Her biological parents are evil. The blind man (played by Stephen Lang) is a monster (as he called himself). I feel bad that they killed Hernandez right away. She could have done more action in the house instead of being helplessly and mercilessly strangulated and hammered to death inside her car.

You might pick up some good parenting styles in this movie. Not the most conventional on the planet but ones that make sense. The important things.

“Now, you are gonna see, what I see. “

Do not eff with a blind Navy Seal.


If you watch, you watch. LOL

Practice piece

Reading through all the other blogs inpires me to write and be more patient in conceiving more post-worthy ideas. I want to create my own style my own statement and my own character. I am working and hoping to get there. Here is one piece that I just thought about while thinking about writing a movie review (and some issues I am personal’y struggling with), If you are reading this from WordPress, if you follow me, if I follow you, if you support other people, thank you! ❤️

Cooked by the Sun…

I cannot fathom the impact of my father’s death in my life. I am inherently sentimental. However, when he died I cannot even explain the intensity of how my being such has duplicated a million folds over. I look at one corner of our house, and it is him that I remember. That is all him. My father… in my heart and soul… a memory. A wonderful memory. And all the small things make me cry.

Dried fish (bulad in our native language).

This is not exacly what he liked in particular. He prefered labtinaw (marinated fish sliced in half, from head down to the tail) and barol (same preparation but is not marinated, but sun-dried) as far as I can remember. I hope I am getting the message across with yeah know what these fish are and what they look like.
Like this! Photo credit to Dead Hungry

To you it is an article of food that you can eat with rice. Dipping it with an overly fermented vinegar a.k.a. super sour, makes it more extra. To me? It brings me down memory lane. When my father was strong, funny, calm, vibrant, and alive. When he cannot stifle his boisterous laughter. I do not know how many times he told us about this particular food associating it with a foreign nationality (that I will not mention). It is not a bad story or something to qualify as cultural appropriation. Please do not get me wrong.

My father loved bulad paired with hot chocolate (tsokola-te) made from pure tablea with steamy hot rice or bahaw. Some would pour the hot tsokolate into their rice. Papang would just takes swigs inbetween munching on rice and bulad, until he gets another cup. I can still imagine the looks of him while he indugles the whole set of food on his plate and his cup. He ate like it was his last.

He would then tell us a story. A story that makes me more miss him not only everytime I eat bulad but just every single day. It makes me realize how a single story connects people specially parents and their children.

His story: He was a cook on a cargo ship. He was about to fry the dried fish for the officers when one officer said, ‘No, already cooked by the sun.’ They would then eat it with their soup. He did not have a hard time preparing food for this particular set people because they are not meticulous and demanding.

It is devoid of depth. I know. The story is just simple. However, thinking about it reminds me of when my father was still alive. It was a connection he unconciously made with me, that I will forever cherish.

Now, dried fish is not only something that I will partake. But it will constantly remind me of the life my father lived.



1…2…3…. jump!!!

… click!!!

Oh no! It should be 1…2… jump!




Uhm. Gosh! Maybe 1…2… click and then jump!!!


1…2… click!!!


Huwattt? No! Okay! Let us do it what more time.


…jum jump jump


…jump jump jump


… jump jump jump

*Ultimately epic-fail JUMP SHOT*

Do you understand my sentiments? How can taking a single photo be that arduos. I mean, it only requires counting, jumping, and clicking and a little “coordinating” on the side and yet I always fail. I am not even after perfection, I just want it to atleast not be that bad to look at. Haha Do you know what I mean? Uh huh! Do not invalidate my feelings come on! What a disgrace in the category of human beings who love jumpshots!?

Well… not anymore!

Maybe, just maybe, it comes with age and experience. When you are 30 something and you still fail at doing one of your favorite, what uh, activities, what does that make you? Ha? Like, dude, I do not know, grow the *explicit* up! kidding!!! It is okay to fail, in the words of a wise man, Mr. Han (played by Jackie Chan) “Life will knock us down. But we choose whether or not to get back up.” Yes this is how deep it could get when we talk about jump shots. LOL All I am saying is, try and try until (hopefully not “you die”) yes you guessed it, you succeed! What now? All of a sudden we despise cliches? Nuh uh! No matter how old we are, where we are in life, we have to somehow believe or have something to believe in.

Oh wow! I cannot believe I went that far. I was just planning to post a photoblog of my jump-shot collection. I call it JAMpshots because I live for the puns. Teehee

Can we start now though? Too much of this blabbering. It gets tiring. :,)

I am going to post a collection of my JAMpshots because… well I do not have a concrete reason. Why not? I guess Not having a reason is a reason anyway.

APRIL 17, 2014 CLTPSJ annual company summer outing in Montemar, Bagac Bataan

Taken on the same date and place as the above photo.

How about a jump to celebrate a win? Team winner!

One of my friends could not believe that I could jump that high. Well guess what? It was not that high. I guess somehow the location created that illusion.

May 13 , 2017 CLTPSJ annual company summer outing in Canyon Cove, Batangas

I cannot remember anything about this trip, except of course the fact that we lost all of the games and it was scortching hot that day. Humid, actually.

December 26, 2017, Lucky Chinatown Mall

Post Christmas lakwatsa with my cousins, nephew, and niece. We had a lot of fun over bingsu, la mien, random jokes and horse-playing. We also did not miss the chance to snap photos with the glimmering lights. It is not everyday that we could pull off a get together so we made the most of it.

March 11, 2018, Fort Santiago

Intramuros Manila

In one of my most favorite places on earth. Intramuros is the place to be if you love history. That’s an unintentional rhyme right there. I guess one does not have to love history to love this place. I need a separate entry to fully express my love for Intramuros.

This is where Dr. Jose Rizal’s traipsed from his prison cell to his death in Bagumbayan. I just realized thst this photo is inappropriate because there is nothing to be happy about being in a place where someone marched to his death, most specifically a revered hero like Dr. Rizal. But hey, is it not what he died for? To have the liberty to take that one heaven of a shot anywhere? I mean, he must be very glad that people appreciate the sacrifice that he made for all of us by visiting this historic place? Yuh, just giving light to what happened a decade and so ago.

Familiar? 😉 The vintage walkway! No fail visit to Intramuros and Luneta whenever my aunts come home from abroad. Family bonding is best spent on places like this.

Chika in 3…2…1…

April 29, 2018, Bario Baretto, Olongapo (Gapo)

How about a jump shot to hide a broken heart? Naks! Dromo! I remember I was mending a broken heart when we went to this place. I was with my two siblings while our parents attended a conference. How we got there is also one for another blog entry because it was so insane.

Gapo is a simple yet, wonderful place. It exudes a lot of good energy, at least the places where we went to. It is an ideal place for relaxation.

May 2, 2018, Eastwood Libis

Memories. Memories. We enjoyed this night even if we were just roaming around and had nowhere else to go. I love the place so I made sure to bring my parents and two siblings there (my father paid for our dinner though haha) and they love it too. The dancing fountain. The bright lights. The last time the five of us went out and had this kind of fun, out of our hometown.

P.S. I was just 65 kilograms on that photo and still considered clinically as obese. Idkwtd! Lol

Taking a jump shot makes me feel comfortable. It is an expression of how I feel. It is a statement that I want to make. Let’s face it, I am hardly photogenic and I do not like filters so I need to get on something that I like and is fun to do and does not need a filter.

It makes me feel that life is worthy of living and the living is worthy of life.

To more jump shots in the nesr future!




I do not have to smile, but I am smiling. 😊

Rolled omelet: Memories and random thoughts

Omelet is beaten eggs cooked without stirring and served folded (Merriam Webster online dictionary). It is cooked in a frying pan until firm, often with a filling added while cooking (Google dictionary). What makes it rolled? While it is not rocket science to guess, it is very tedious to make. It is easy to watch, but when I tried making it, I completely failed at all of my attempts. Please find below exhibit A. It is better than the previous ones I made, at least.

To the rest of the world, maybe an omelet or a rolled omelet is a breakfast or to solid egg fanatics, it is a staple or to Korean food enthusiasts, it is the ultimate side-dish, but to me, it carries a lot of memories. It links me to my childhood, the extra happiness it would bring whenever my father comes home from a long sojourn abroad. Before I start my semi-sob story, I want to share the photos below: (These might help those who are in a calorie deficit)

source: https://www.nutritionix.com/i/nutritionix/omelet-1-2-egg-omelet/56d702b4d6e6012f4eeb9929

These information pertain to the regular plain omelet. If you are going to add fillings (or feelings, if you love puns hahaha), the nutrition count will surely vary. In most of the video tutorials I watched they use green onions, carrots, red bell pepper, etc… I love mine with canned tuna (that’s an additional omega-3s etc…) or cabbages (fiber, vitamin k, vitamin c, folate, manganese, etc…) or tomatoes (lycopene, beta carotene, naringenin, etc…). I also love adding milk to the beaten eggs for extra fluffiness. (sources will be indicated at the bottom of the page)

You can add anything you like. Just be careful with the amount as it might overcrowd the mixture and change the texture of the eggs and once you start cooking it, you will have a hard time rolling it. Trust me, I have tried and tested it just a few days ago. I just forgot to snap a photo. It was a major failure. I guess it is true that we learn from our mistakes, because I did in mine.

Going back…

Rolled omelet catapults me to when I was little and my father comes home for a few months after months and months (if not a year-long) stint aboard a ship as a chief cook. He would cook it, every morning. He knew that at that time I could not stand onions or any other food articles that taste vegetable or herb in my food so he would cook a plain one and prepare something else to pair it with, like cooked ham, or hotdogs. I remember the day he told me what the dish is called. I knew that somehow, he was trying to impress me (to make up for the lost time) by introducing me to the food he knew I could not have because of my mother’s limited cooking skills. I did not bother about the name or the process, then. I did not have to do the cooking, anyway. All I ever had to do was eat. Do not get me wrong, I had a great relationship with my father even if he was away most of the time. He made sure that I felt his presence despite the distance and absence. All I am saying is, as a young girl who loved eating (not young anymore now, but still loves eating just the same), I had to focus on how delicious the food is, instead of knowing its name. I kid. I kid. I remember asking a friend what she ate for breakfast so that if she asked me back, I could tell her that I had rolled omelet and she would wonder what it was. Tryna be sowsyal! Yah knaw! LOL

Fast forward to maybe two years ago from today (I cannot remember exactly when), I cooked a rolled tuna omelet for him and my mother, and he said that it was already perfect even if it looked nothing like what I was trying to make. That was the last time I cooked a rolled omelet for him because he already succumbed to CA August of 2020.

Even before he died, during the time I was away from them, whenever I eat a rolled omelet, wherever, I would remember him. The dish reminds me of him.

Now, even if he is not with me anymore, through rolled omelet, I could easily go back to; when he was still young, alive, and strong, when I would count the days of when he was coming home when he would laugh at his own silly jokes, when we were happy and when he would cook rolled omelets for me. It makes me forget that he is gone. It keeps him alive.

My only goal is to finally make a perfect one, as one of my ways to commemorate his wonderful life.


McGrane, K. MS, RD (2020, November 6). Is Canned Tuna Good for You, or Bad?. Healthline. Accessed 29 January 2022 <https://www.healthline.com/nutrition/is-canned-tuna-healthy>

Kubala, J. MS, RD (2017, November 4). 9 Impressive Health Benefits of Cabbage. Healthline. Accessed 29 January 2022 <https://www.healthline.com/nutrition/benefits-of-cabbage>

 Bjarnadottir, A. MS, RD (2019, March 25). Tomatoes 101: Nutrition Facts and Health Benefits. Healthline. Accessed 29 January 2022 < https://www.healthline.com/nutrition/foods/tomatoes>

Say hi to a lesser popular brand of Paracetamol (for kids)



I understand that humans as we are, with the influence of mass media, we could be very particular with brands especially when it comes to medicines. We often associate popular brands with efficacy. Who can blame us? What we see on TV ads, with famous celebrity endorsers, we pick right off the bat. Without questions. With the dwindling commercial stocks of medicines due to this “dreaded season” (not to mention CoViD19), it is high time to meticulously choose other medicines that are not famous to include in your stash. You may want to try BIOGIC (syrup).

Biogic became the derision of some for lacking one syllable and for sounding like a rip off of you-already-know what brand. This is not an issue of syllabication or of sounding like a genuine score, but a question of efficacy and value for money. BIOGIC PARACETAMOL (syrup)is for real.

Shortly after the New Year’s Celebration, Mikmok got sick. To save a few moolahs, we asked assistance from Calabayog City Mayor’s Office/CMO (which we have been doing since he was born). The CMO’s staff issued (for free) BIOGIC syrup Paracetamol , Cetirizine, a couple vitamins, and AERO-VENT nebules (We have yet to try the vits and God-forbid Cetirizine). BIOGIC and AERO-VENT worked perfectly. In fact, I noticed that BIOGIC is as equally effective for Mikmok, if not more, than the leading brand. His fever went soaring at 39.1 degrees Celsius and BIOGIC efficiently knocked it on a beat down and it never went that high again. Do not get me wrong, I am not sure whether it was a matter of timing and the incubation period of whatever virus inside him,or whether there were other factors to be taken into consideration, but when something like this happened in a not-so-long-ago past, we had to reinforce the leading brand with incessant sponge baths to tame his fever down.

Please do not take my word for it because I am not an expert. LOL! My point is, maybe we can meticulously choose and use other medicines aside from the famous ones and avoid unnecessary inconvenience.

This blog post is not paid. I am just narrating our experience.

Thank you CMO and the People of Calbayog for the free medicines!

Oedipus by Sophocles (Not a review)

(Imported from my Tumblr account. Originally posted on 21st of April; 5:45 a.m.)

When I was in my fourth year of high school, our teacher in English read us this story and asked us at the end, whose fault the “tragedy” was? Why do you think that it was his or her fault? (Non-verbatim but you already know what I am trying to say. 😉 ) 

Well, guess what my eedeeyet self answered? THE WRITER! Because my brain (at that time)  was not capable of conceiving better reasons to justify my answer. I thought I’d go far with that in mind (Ghorl, how far? Haha). Maybe, far enough that I still keep thinking about it now.

(I do not own this photo, credits to the rightful owner)


Let me answer, will you please? But first,  I would like to say something about the rest of the characters (why it’s not their fault)  as I remember them. No cheating (as in googling; okay, just a litol), all right? I could only remember a few, however. 

The Oracle –  I couldn’t blame him (or her) for telling the truth. He (or she)  just told them about his (or her) prophecy. Why did they have to consult an oracle anyway? 

The Shepherd-servant –  I would have done the same. Only evil can leave a baby for dead on a mountainside. Who can turn the other cheek on a conscience’s call? Again, evil.  

Queen Jacosta – Too weak to decide. IMHO! She’s so impossible for allowing her husband to do what they did to Oedipus. I blame her for not standing up for her son and just supported her husband’s ego or power trip or greed? 

Oedipus- The good son that he is,  chose to run away from his (adoptive) parents to prevent the prophecy from happening. Little did he know that by doing so, he’d accidentally fulfill the same. He even punished himself when he found out the truth, even if he knew nothing about his parents, when all of the shitness happened. He was a victim of his father’s greed and his mother’s  subservience. 

So whose fault? 

THE KING- Had he acted like a real father and not some insecure, power-hungry, seedy lout,  he would have prevented the prophecy from happening by keeping his son, loving him like a father should, and teach him the greatest life lessons there are. Rear him up the best way he possibly could. Crown over his own son? What an absolute effer!  Only evil will plan on leaving his own son for dead on a mountain side. Again, evil! Pure filthy evil. Remember, Oedipus ran away when he found out about the prophecy. He never intended to kill his father and marry his mother (the adoptive parents for that matter).   If it’s not real love and honor, I do not know what it is. He would have also  ran away  from them  (or did something else on his will power) upon finding out the fact to prevent it from happening.  Somehow, the king deserved his fate because he’s greedy. He loved power more than his son. His evil deed took the tragic fate upon himself. By wanting (or needing [what a…])to kill his son, he initiated the  impending fulfillment of the prophecy.  

—— I wish I could make my former English teacher proud. LOL Teehee I wish I’d be given a chance at self-redemption. Haha 😂

Why? What

(Imported from my Tumblr account. Originally posted on 16th of April 2021; 7:27 p.m.)

I have been trying to find the kind of focus and fervor to finally start writing
(and hopefully, get the chance to pitch it to the world). I used to start up a blog and eventually be halted by some internal forces I couldn’t even resist (I used to think that they are external). I had to end even if I have not even started yet. This pandemic and the one-after-another virtual job rejections, and all the other lessons in the past that I haven’t thought of before but my plight has made me remember,  have finally made me realize that blogging isn’t about being perfect in terms of grammar or organization of content or all other things that may entail appeal on aesthetics, but the courage to still find the beauty in all of my imperfections and express it through writing.  I have finally decided to focus on myself and how I would like to express it regardless of how I would be perceived by the rest of the world. I am going to write until my mind runs out of words to speak through my capering fingertips.  From now on, I am going to let loose of the shackles that  I’ve inflicted myself from and start enjoying my liberty in coming up with even the weirdest of ideas.  After all, life is too short to dwell on chasing perfection that is non-extant.

On a different note…

I used to think that Stephanie Meyer’s claim of dreaming of something and conveying the same through, no less, the book Twilight, is a publicity stunt they plotted for the gains. Well, guess what? I am retracting that because dreams could be the best source of ideas; creative factory.  I have been having weird dreams where a concept for a book could be derived from. Just with enough inspiration and hardwork who knows, I could turn all of those dreams into  one best-selling book (dream on! LOL). Thanks to Stephanie for sharing her story. 

If the odds aren’t in my favor…

My journey to the freelance world is not a joke. I spent seven months of ardent submission of applications, constant rejections, and earnest prayers before I finally landed a job. It pays well. It may not be like the other freelance jobs, but it pays better than my previous jobs. Plus, having a kind and understanding Manager makes it more worth the wait. However, as I slowly settled into the niche, I realized that I had to do more and be more. Not to sound too ambitious or anything, but I want to learn new things, and if luck permits, it could bring a whole new level of excitement to my journey and a constant burst of opportunities from all around the Philippines and the world. Can I say, in the universe? Uh, that’s too much. LOL

I tried looking for a part-time job that will (or might) catapult me into the realm that I want to explore, but yes, you guessed it right, rejections after rejections. Honestly, I have no skills that could catch the attention of employers. I know that I am great, and I could be great at anything, but selling myself is another story. Long story short, nobody wants to open a door for me. What will one do if the odds aren’t in her favor? Sulk and wallow in misery and desperation? Or open her door? I chose the latter.

I have decided to learn Content Marketing to widen my horizons. Aside from believing how important it is to grow and learn, I also need to make ends meet. I need to improve our cash flow. I need to give my family the life that they deserve. Sometimes, the evil would lure me into thinking that I am too old for this, but this site is the living proof that I have successfully rebuked the bad guy. Nothing can stop me now.