AVATAR Review (SPOILER on HIGH ALERT!!!!)

Storywise…

Well, about this movie I saw just last night?

So there is this island, y’see, … nope, not an island, a planet, yeah, a planet.

Papua is the name—Planet Papua (darn nice name, if I do say so mesself, got them nice ring to it, so to speak). Now, this Planet Pandora. … Did I say, Pandora? Papua? America? Nah, that’s entirely different film, that one is. Iraq? Aw, no. Whoever heard of Planet Iraq... Mmm, Afghanistan? Heck, no, that was Rambo 3 movie, that was (damn fine one, at that). Okay, let’s just call the damn place Planet Pandora. Howzzat?

Now, this planet is here is sooo … beautiful. And I don’t use this word lightly, you mark my word. It’s got all these purdy flowers and such. Darn purdy flowers… The darnest purdiest flowers you ever did see, you mark my words. This planet here—look like that island, Papua—also has got all them strange-lookin’ plants, and them big, big trees. And they glow. Boy, how they glow. They glow when you touch ‘em, y’see. Just poke ‘em a little and see them glow. So, at nights, why, you won’t need no torch or fire or nuthin’. You won’t need none of them, no sirree. Nope. U-uh. So if guys wanna see where you wanna plant your feet in them forest, why, just touch one of ‘em flowers, or leaves, or whatever please ya, thank you very much, and you get your light, and you can just walk in that forest clear as day. And if you touch enough of ‘em leaves, flowers, whatever, why, you can have your disco night right there in the forest. Woo-hoo, yeah, yeah, uh-huh, uh-huh…ehm, so anyways, the animals in this planet also look damn great and alive. Boy, the way they move, as if they ain’t got no bones or joint, so graceful, if I do say so myself, unlike they way you or me move, no way. When they land on their six feet, my, as if there ain’t no impact between them feet and the hard soil. Damn graceful.

And, this planet has this thing called, don’t laugh now, coz it’s a darn hard name to say, this one, un-ob-taain-niuium. That’s what that is: Unobtainiuium.

Now, this Planet, Pandora, has got this Unobtainiuium aplenty, down in the eart— …err, soil. And this Unobtainiuium will get you mighty fine price here on Earth. Why it’s damn pricey, they have this gazillion dollars equipment sent from Earth to dig out this unobtainiuium, yessiree, that they do. So, even tho’ they have all these gazillion, gazillion pricey equipments, why, with them price that high, they’ll get more gazillion, gazillion dollars more from selling them unobtainiuium, so that’s okay—sending them pricey equipments.

Now, the problem with Halliburt—er, the company doin’ all them diggin’ is that, why, this planet has its people living on it, y’see. Not just some animals, small and big, no sir, uh-uh. The people there, why they have their own tails, yes, they do. And, they look kinda cute, as a matter of fact. But, they’re tall… Man, ain’t they tall… And they speak, and they sing, dance as you please… Damn fine lookin’ people they are, damn fine…whooeee…

Now, this company, Freeport-Halliburton-McMorran Ltd., had this, whaddayacallthat…charge de affair, sumthin’. This young charge de affair looks damn young he shouldn’t be in the movie, y’know what I’m sayin’? He’s damn too young. That director what directed the movie oughta get someone else playin’. Someone older. Now, I’m not against them younger actors, nosirree. But that guy, Ribisi, I think his name was, is just damn too young to play this Palmer guy. He got all worried about them Pandora people not liking one bit their diggin’ in their land, no sir, no ma’am. So Freeport here … wait, wait, did I say Freeport? Damn, that’s just plain wrong…There ain’t no Freeport up there on Pandora. No way.

…

What? I said Halliburton also? What’s Halliburton? I know nothin’ ‘bout no Halliburton, no way, uh-uh.

So, anyways, this company then hire these ex-soldiers, y’see. Toughest lookin’ sonsofbitches you ever did see. Hell, yeah. This Blackrock Company—they’ve got all these cool equipments, heavy artillery, crazy weapons, grrrrreat lookin’ choppers, and they have this leader, Colonel Miles Quaritch, with none-of-your-BS attitude. He’s all military and stuff, he’s all busy-like, barking orders, checking up all them fancy electronic computer equipments with them flashy lights and monitors—he forgets wearing shirt, this fine colonel.

Heck, this colonel is also damn smart, he could operate some of them fancy electronic computer equipments. He’s that smart. And this guy is one tough mutha, tough as nails, only even tougher than the toughest nail you can get down in them buildin’ material store. If this Colonel Quaritch looks at you wrong, why, you’d best crawl back into your mama’s belly, that’s what you gotta do. Yeah. Just crawl back in there you pansy, sissy pretty boy, you… Yeah, yeah, that’s right, don’t let me see your damn fine looking pansy face right there in front of me, you…

…Okay…

So these big boys (from Blackwood Company) with them big guns and big choppers, and cool looking robots—just like those in a movie I saw years ago, ALIENS, I think the movie was called, only here, them robots are all covered and closed up tight so as the people operating them can breath mighty fine, ‘coz, y’see, here in Pandora, we cannot breathe as we’d like to, no sir, uh-uh, so we gotta wear them fancy oxygen mask—are hired to make sure them fine company boys can do their important diggin’ to dig all them unobtainiuium out happy and safe as can be. Whooee, that’s one long sentence, that one. Yeah. Anyways, so as them engineers can do them diggin’ and singin’ them happy songs, all at the same time, they can.

Now, these Papuans—only they are called Na’vi here in this fine movie, I saw just last night, don’t take too kindly these white folks—with some blacks thrown in for good measure—diggin’, and fellin’ their precious shining trees. No way.

So they fight with them cool, cool looking bows and arrows, only since these Papuans are so darn tall, their arrows are like spears to us. Now, you won’t want no spears run thru’ your chest, no sir, no ma’am, thank you very much.

So this cunning people from this Halliburton-Blackwater Company get together, y’see, and talk about how they can solve this damn problem. So they decide to get someone into this Na’vi people. Damn, that was just brilliant, if I do say so mesself. You won’t see that kinda trick pulled here anywhere on Earth. No way. Not in Aceh, not in Afghanistan, not in America, not in Iraq, not in Palestine, not in Zulu, not anywhere. Only in Hollywood, people, only in Hollywood.

So this guy, this spy, this Jake Sully (that’s this guy’s name), get into the tribe, and pretend to wanna be one of ‘em Na’vi people, only at nights he’d, hush-hush, report to this tough-as-nail-only-tougher Colonel With No Shirt On.

Then in the morning, why, this spy, this Liutenant Dunbar, Dances with Wolv—er… learns them Na’vi ways: Hunting, running and jumping from trees to trees like monkeys, catching them fine looking horses that look suspiciously like seahorse, and learn to ride them so damn fine lookin’ birdie with no feathers, y’see, so they look like them dinosaur birds in that Spielberg movie about them dinosaurs. Whooee… Only, of course, he still acts like white boys, debating everything, touching like they are already close, like, comparing with what they know, etc, etc.

Now, the darnest thing is that this Dunbar guy, this spy guy, can’t keep his eyes off his mentor, this fine looking Na’vi lady, Stands With a Fist … that’s ain’t right. It should be shorter…

…

Damn, I was wrong. The name should be Pocahontas, yup, that’s it. Shorter.

So, this John Smith guy, this spy guy, start to get all softie with this Indian princess. And, yup, you know it. They fall in love….. oooh, pooey…. Heh, heh, that Donald Duck, he’s damn funny, he is, heh heh…

So, Pocaneitiri and John Sully-Smith, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-I-N-G, and them looking hardcase soldiers get bored waitin’ for them reports from this Sully guy, this spy guy, about them Indians, when are they gonna move? When are they gonna move? huh? Huh? And this young manager, played by this Ribisi actor, is also like that: When are they gonna move? When are they gonna move? Huh? Huh? I want them diggin’ done in their village there. They’ve got this huge load of unobtainiuium there. The hugest load in the radius of 200 kilometers. Sure, this planet is big (we ain’t talking about island like Papua, here), and we can go look for other motherlode anywhere in this planet, but if we do that, we won’t be able to kill them damn Na’vi then now, would we? Heck, no. There won’t be no damn cool looking battle then now, will there? No sir, no ma’am.

So, we go to war. Whooee… and that was some battle, that was. And this Colonel Quaritch lead the damn invasion with a cup of coffee in hand... And a shirt. Well, well, whaddaya know… It’s that damn caffeine, I guess.

And them arrows, whooee, in the beginning, them arrows can’t break them chopper glass windows, but finally…Yess… them arrows shot through them glass and kill them pilots, yeah, yeah…

Whooee… that was a fine movie I saw just last night. Damn, fine.

K-20: Legend of the Mask

K-20: The Legend of the Mask (K20: Kaijin niju menso den) is a Japanese movie (you can tell from the title. D'uh) adapted from the novel of the same name. It is one of the movies bawled me over with its slick overall production and tone and setting (by God, those sets!) and whatnots that got me all pumped up and excited and thrilled (see how I got all redundant, here? I was that pumped, excited, and--anyways...). AND, the movie stars that hottie Takeshi Kaneshiro of Red Cliff 1 & 2-fame, among others. The story is set in a 1949 fictional Tokyo(in the movie, it is Teito), with Zeppelins flying in the sky of te city. And police choppers bearing the legend POLIZEI flew out of it. Below, Teito is a city very much influenced by many post-apocalyptic or alternate-reality-set movies or comics. It is dirty. It has colors of rust dominating just about everything. It has buildings and vehicles fitting with the the year (1949). And rusty old Tokyo Tower is the tallest structure, majestic and horrific at the same time. And, boy, those rusts. The society comes in standard the lowest class and its opposite, with no place for the middle class (That only exists in the real world, apparently). And we see the the city's police (POLIZEI?) captain's engagement ceremony performed in a big beautiful building and guarded heavily by armed soldiers. City officials apparently have it extremely easy in this world. The technology this world apply is the craziest kind of techno-wizardry that only Nikolas Tesla could have come up with: The story opens with the demonstration of an attempt to send (electrical) energy nary all those troublesome wiring, followed by things going wrong: A bad guy, explosions, audience running this way and that, etc. etc. you know the drill. The lead character, Heikichi Endo, played by that breath-takingly handsome Takeshi Kaneshiro, is an unsurpassed magician and acrobat, performing for a struggling travelling circus. And, with his mentor's health failing, he gets an offer to use that acrobatic skill of his to get some real money. And that's where his adventure begins. The movie is powerful due to its strong human drama, for one thing, though some people might not like the cliches the movie is rife with. Poor kids, abandoned or orphaned, living in the garbage dumps are all over the movie, serving to strengthen the characters (especially those played by that cute hunk of guy, Takeshi Kaneshiro and Tokoko Matsu's Yoko Hashiba) and help direct their relationship. But, this is not a drama, no sir, as when the actions start, they come fast and long and beautifully orchestrated. One fight scene that takes place in an small alley made me forget the fight happens in an alley: The two fighters move with so much ease, they seem like fighting in a big open ring. And the actions nod more to the direction of Hong Kong's finest action movies, rather than Japanese short-burst actions in Samurai flicks. CGI, of course, is on the table but, again, some CGI effects are so smooth, my jaw dropped (though some others are bleh...) The acrobatic actions on the rooftops (And walls. And streets. And alleyways) are blatantly parkour, so anybody who is into this, will have his wet dreams made real on screen. Yesss...the--er-- irony? antithesis?. Of course, the movie is Batman-meets-Zorro-meets-Blade Runner-meets-Steampunk (comics), and even the score takes some notes from Indiana Jones's and some others from Legend of Zorro's, but hey, when it is done this good, I'm all forgiving. So, with 137-minute runtime, the movie has its hits (the actions, characters, the story) and miss (the cliched drama), but it is a damn beautiful movie with crazy actions and cool stunts, and that gorgeous-even-when sulking cute-as-puppy-when-smiling Takeshi Kaneshiro really nails the character with his boyish looks but commanding on-screen presence. And some Japanese humors added to the mix may seem fresh for those not familiar with manga, anime or dorama. * * * What? The title? K-20 and all that? Oh, it refers to this Robin Hood/Zorro-like thief, famous for his mastery in disguises, that supposedly steals from the rich to give to the poor, but somehow or others, the public like their handsome police captain, who vows to catch the dastardly thief, more that they do the thief, and that astonishing looking-with-hot-bode-to-boot Takeshi Kaneshiro character thrown into the spiraling conspiracy related to K-20, and the plan for world domination using crazy gigantic cannon powered by nature's very own limitless electrical power of the the good ol' lightning.

Puzzling 'poo

Torment hath been but a word, like

all flowers this world hath borne.

Lexis-all meaningless to this tongue for scorn.

Kisses naught but these brows fevered hike.

Into thine eyes thou hath me drowned, but

sail me back to thy harbour then as night's nigh near

Charge me, hard and true. What

hail of love, I am torn asunder.

Exile me from these nations of men.

Arrows thru my heart those words you sent

Playfully render me heated and bothered.

Woe, o woe is me,

To o'ershadow mine eyes with aught else to see

Perplexed feeling this heart of mine

Words so sweet mine ears are thine

Roses bled their perfumed blood

To breathe in your scent I'd hold mine breath

Sweets rolling in thy tongue to me the world's wealth

To win to earn to treasure to hold.

Mine body trembles for thine

Thy love my own my wont

Use me, love, o'erwrought me I'm thine

For want a puzzle solved, agitated not but read and reread.

"Comment" your answer if you would

Torment hath been but a word, like

all flowers this world hath borne.

Lexis-all meaningless to this tongue for scorn.

Kisses naught but these brows fevered hike.

Into thine eyes thou hath me drowned, but

sail me back to thy harbour then as night's nigh near

Charge me, hard and true. What

hail of love, I am torn asunder.

Exile me from these nations of men.

Arrows thru my heart those words you sent

Playfully render me heated and bothered.

Woe, o woe is me,

To o'ershadow mine eyes with aught else to see

Perplexed feeling this heart of mine

Words so sweet mine ears are thine

Roses bled their perfumed blood

To breathe in your scent I'd hold mine breath

Sweets rolling in thy tongue to me the world's wealth

To win to earn to treasure to hold.

Mine body trembles for thine

Thy love my own my wont

Use me, love, o'erwrought me I'm thine

For want a puzzle solved, agitated not but read and reread.

"Comment" your answer if you would

Delectable Details

"Having children doesn't make a woman a mother" ran an [facebook] status update of one of my estranged colleagues.

You can argue until your lips crack, your throats hurt, your veins ready to burst, you're all ready to act as only humans can possibly do: tear your interlocutor's throat and drink the person's blood, only you aren't thirsty, over the issue. Yet, it is a tough job being a parent to little kids though it all comes down to You want it, they've got it (They being your kids):
- As babies they could do no wrong: all cuddly, cute as can be with everything they do sending you into ecstatic love and pride. You've been wanting this pride since you knew that kids don't come with the mail, and they couldn't care less as long as there is a teat to suckle everytime they open their mouth.
- Come toddler age, and they look for you, among their toys, when you are starting to regain your love to soap operas. And yet you mollycoddle them, dress them to the nines and parade them around town. All the while scanning those tabloids and bulletin walls in the hospitals for the next Baby Contestas you want to enter them to it and taking notes of the prizes offered, should your kids win.
And you find all your diplomas now come complete with thick-red-crayon drawing of figures suspiciously looking like a sausage having been run over by a truck, with curious-looking protusions and big circular things which if you let your imagination runs really wild may resemble a bit like feet, tail or eyes. Figures which upon interrogation are revealed to be those of dogs, cats or pigs--lipsticks used-up, unsigned contracts now paper planes after taking a dip in the bathtub, walls a scene of batlefield among soldiers of fairy, zoo crew and Ferrari drivers. You bite your lips and try to maintain composure, explaining to them the connection between the importance of your lipsticks to your overall presentability to everyone except your husband; the risk of their living their days like "those kids in Africa" now that daddy's paper is just another one of those Titanic wannabes, with wings to boot; the big, BIG possibility of their grandma's failing to remember their birthday, what with all the walls looking like that--they being kids the connection, or the lack thereof, would escape them, so you can get away with this trickery. All the while you curse under your breath for their losing in those baby contests, into which you've invested quite a lot for the admission fee, new clothes for them and such like. You want the world to acknowledge how great the parties involved in presenting such joyful bundles of cuddly love to the world and see if they care.
- And they grow by the millimeter, occupying more space than you yourselves have trouble filling (being there is not enough space to fill yourselves with in the first place), more and more you bump into them, more and more they ruin your concentration just when you need to focus all of your thought, mind and heart into texting or chatting, more and more often they appear behind you and startling you when you were this close to coming up with that winning move in the chess game against that damn computer(!!!), more and more often they come to you with all their stories which day-by-day sound more and more to you ridiculous, tiring, Why-do-only-I-have-to-hear-this-?, Who-is-going-to-listen-to-ME-?, Don't-I-deserve-attention-just-the-way-I-show-them?, I-want-my-ME-time, Don't-I-deserve-MY-self-actualization-after-everything-I've-been-through,That's-it-I-may-go-to-Komnas Perempuan/Komnas Pria (this writer's pipe dream)-tomorrow. You want your ego stroked, and those kids' big eyes wonderment and dependent love to you just don't cut it.
- And, of course, should you lose your kids' nanny and all their grandmothers or great-aunts have (Surprise!) their own lives to live so that they cannot be there for you to take care of your kids (for you, don't forget that...), you have this to say: "Yeah,yeah, I know, I'm late. Again. Sorry, boss. Got problems at home." You want your excuse, and they provide.

Public Enemies Review

Following other DC's A-list storyarcs getting celluloid treatment, Superman/Batman--Public Enemies the Movie finally hit the DVD with all the WHOMP!s and UUMPH!s that will send the fans banging on WB/DC Studios doors demanding the powers-that-be to animate more of their favorite stories, and that they'd better be quick about it, or else...
The film is based on Superman/Batman--Public Enemies storyarc that DC ran from October '03 until March '04, with the creative power house of Loeb, McGuiness and Vines delivering what I felt when I read the story to be a very refreshingly jubilant joyride of slugfest, though there is still much darkness scattered inside the colorful panels (The event in the story did lead to one of the biggest projects ever conceived by DC).
Yet, as the film needed to be a standalone, avoiding much mucks that drag many serialized comics (and hurt this comic fan's wallet), we see pretty big changes that fortunately won't cause the viewers who might be unfamilliar with the source story or even with (horror...) the characters and the universe scratch their heads and, halfway through, decide to switch to America's Got Talent instead.
America was in the dumps (bet nobody saw that coming), the God-fearing weapon-loving Americans voted Lex Luthor POTUS. And, whaddayaknow--he seemed to be doing a pretty darn good job at it. But, as a big chunk of space rock the size of Brazil believed to be a part of Planet Krypton after its End Day (the planet exploded, not getting major shower, that's what leads to the End of Days, sheesh...) was ready to hit Earth and wipe out all existence, President Luthor saw this as the ultimate opportunity to show the Americans how his xenophobia had all those times been nothing short than prophetic, i.e. Superman-being from-Krypton-somehow-attracting-that-big-BIG-meteorite-to-Earth. And as Luthor was a certified ex-evil genius, who were we to argue?

And so Superman became a fugitive and the hunt for the Last True Boyscout (accompanied by the ever-cunning Batman) began; hence, the title.

The actions in the film (and in the comics) were superb and the people working on the film did some terrific job translating the comic panels to animation: Superman-Batman vs. Metallo; Superman-Batman vs. the whole damn army of supervillains; Superman-Batman vs. President Luthor federal sanctioned superheroes; Superman-Batman vs. Captain Marvel-Hawkman--the fights went fast but with enough details that can make you appreciate seeing just about everybody get the chance to try to rearrange the Big Blue's mug (sometimes I wonder if the people responsible for the story are also xenophobic. Those ba----ds!).

The biggest change made for the movie that I notice is taking away Captain Atom's big role and having Batman (again) replace him, to do what needs to be done--in the comics we get to learn quite a lot about Captain Atom from this part of the story.

The film's animation by Korean animators, and I like the way the characters move. Sometimes in the fights, fists flew pretty slow with the result that we can see that rearranging Superman's mug-thingie pretty clearly, so I guess those were intentional.
Many dialogs, utterance, one-liners abd jokes from the comics make their way to film, and that is nice.
The character designs tried a bit too hard to translate the clear artworks of McGuiness and Vines, resulting in the bulbous upper arms, chests, thighs and much of everything else, including chins...or are they jaws??
And Power Girl did a great job providing an, uh, ogleful.

It's Dead –Sincerity*

* aka. You'd laugh out loud if I tell you there some funny s**t down here

aka. There Might Be a Part II Somewhere Here, or Not

It's so nice to live in a world full of people always willing to help one another.

'Here's my number. Call me anytime. Anytime, y'hear? I'm all yours the moment I got your call calling me for help. I'm there the moment we cut the connection.
'I'll be a fly, stealing into your abode—just give me a door or a window ajar for me to fly through.
'I'll be a mammoth, all horns and tusks announcing to the whole wide world that I'm here for you, should you want you prefer it that way.
'I'll be an eagle, flying high and plunging into your heartache and with talons sharper than blade, tearing it out and dropping it down from up high.
'I'll be a mole, blind to fear, digging tunnel to your place of retreat.
'So, call. Hear?'
…
…

'Why haven't you call? I've been sitting here by my cell phone waiting for your call. How could you
not call!? How could you?!'

And you call.
And you go and wail away spilling your heart out.
And you get all the help you feel you so justly deserve, and then some.
And you get your trouble sorted out, lifted up off of you, thanks to the help rendered.
And you turn away all sunshine and birds and bees, and all the colors of rainbow are you.

Then it takes only a moment with words not necessarily in a sentence, but you will be made sure you understand.
You have your say and you want the reply, a question that would demand an answer:
‘And now I use your help.’
Sincerity? That’s for suckers.

I give and I take.
Sell me yours. You then buy me something.
I do this for you. Wait there—your turn will come when you do me stuff.

‘There. That should do it.
… Hey, don’t I at least get a thank?’
Wow. That’s sincere.

Throw your hands to the heaven, and bargain God. ‘This, O God, Your servant offered Thee. Deliver, O Lord, from Thou aplenty.’
Bargaining with God: Yea, that always turns up good profit.

‘The person has helped me. Surely, I should return the favor.’
‘No one would help me, if I don’t do likewise.’
And that’s what you teach our children, since the moment they recognize you as more than merely an extension of their mouths: That nothing comes for free. You don’t help unless you get something in return. And you sure as Hell don’t get help without paying.

You don’t get your allowance unless you show me respect that I deserve.
You don’t get that new toy car provided you don’t flare my temper for at least four days straight.
You don’t get to play with your friends if you lose the paperwork I bring home.
You don’t get my love, as you don’t act the way I want you to act.

I got taught that one should not fall into the same ditch twice. I know that people change. I positively believe that people also change back. Let loose a dog, which for ten years you’ve been feeding nothing but the most expensive dog meals sold—the kind whose price you’d better not let your domestic helpers know for it would send them into terminal fit—and which you bathe and take to pet salon thrice a week, into the city dumpster and it would see you as not merely its master but its god who has magicked it down to a dog’s heaven.
‘All you stale bread, half-eaten chicken bones, baby’s puke, and everything else that squirm in there, HERE I COME!’

Yep. Dog’s Heaven, all right.

But dogs are not people.
Absolutely true, for dogs are incapable of being insincere.

Do I stay away from people because of whom I spent moments of my life in the dumpster? I do.
Do I forgive? Uh-huh.
Do I learn my lesson? I’d better.
Do I stay away from people with the help of whom I stared Devil in the face? Hell, yeah.

One sided short report on the L-word

Many people would say that ten years is a long enough time to know a person. Let alone a spouse.

You get to know how your spouse's mind work, know what she might say to things you ask her before she even says it, anticipate her words before they even form.

You know how your spouse moves, how she walks and turns corners, anticipate her moves to avoid colliding.
Sometimes you succeed in avoiding, at other times you seek the collision.

You learn how your spouse breathes during the night's slumber, you know when she exhales and inhales and you join in her rhythm. And you feel that your sleep is the sleep of a baby.

Yet time and time again, you find yourself newly acquainted with your spouse of ten years. Her everything is new to you. And you like it. And this is as it should be.

Love is in the air *Might be for Consenting Adults*

Love has certainly been around:

Love for politics gets you started running for your head of neighborhood watch hoping it would be your stepping stone to something a little bigger in seven to ten years' time, say, a country's prez.

Love for your job lands you in a position envied to death by your peers: Your boss's shoeshine boy (or girl). You might wanna watch where you park your vehicle at your office building parking lot here. Closest to the security post is recommended. Or under your office window--provided you don't spend too much of your working hours tending to your boss's needs in your boss's room.

Love for a type of music puts you at odds with those not listening to similar kind of music: You listen to your music wanting the whole world to have the same appreciation you have to it, to sing with you, to shout at the sky of the glory which are the notes, the power within the lyrics, the strength the verses possess, the delicacy the arrangement delivers, the harmony wrung out of the diverse instruments played with such precision bordering on miraculous. Music from Dismember, Slayer, Cradle of Filth, Judas Priest comes to mind...
Someone plays his, or her, favorite music--whose singer you'd just love to see give a never ending concert at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean with all the singer's fans attending--out loud for all the world to hear, you grind your teeth trying to keep your cool and not to run up to the person and tear him, or her, a new windpipe. You do not forget to bring your headsets wherever you go. Period.

Love for learning invites questions from mostly senior members of your great big family (grannies, great aunts and the likes): "You're a Doctor, now, dear? How wonderful. When are you going to get married?" "You're doing your thesis now? How nice? When are you going to get married?" "You're getting a full grant for that Fellowship program? Bless you. When are you going to get married?" etc. and grants you titles bestowed by those close or not-so-close to you: (Note on those not-so-close to you: There comes a time when you see someone, learn a thing or two (that's right: A thing or TWO)about that person, such the person's name and age, and you feel like that you know the person enough to pass judgement): Withered Flower, Cold Donkey, Mrs. D----, etc.

Love for money has you knock on doors, open drawers, shuffle paper, clear throat, check stationery, steal glances, have second thought, think better off it, draw lines, feel like taking a downer, or oft times, upper. Go figure.

Love for your children gets you to do some of the coolest things around: Go down on all four so that they can donkey-ride you (for little tykes, of course), teach them how to dribble a ball and watch them look at you with those admiring eyes that fly you straight to heaven (the fact that you were the lousiest athtlete in your high school loses its significance here), dig in the dirt to find those earth worms and teach them biology (That's right: Biology is very much about digging in the dirt and finding worms), spray water from the hose in a hot afternoon to create a rainbow (which lasts for about three seconds after spraying for about 20 minutes) and teach them physics (That's right: Physics is all about playing with colors. And lots of water), eat half of their ice cream after saying that too much ice cream is not good for them... What? One is supposed to put his his kids to school, feed them good food, sing them lullabies and help them with their homework??? Oops..

That Dying Breed: Reader

Unlike some guy I know whose name I should not mention as it might get me sued what with all this EIT Law--his name is David--who wrote that the notes he wrote should not be taken seriously, this note should be taken seriously:

I read the other day, an article on reading. It talked of how people (yeah, people. Meaning you, people...) today have gotten more estranged with reading. We are living in an era where we are constantly bombarded with updates: on TVs, on radios (for those who still listen to them *snigger?*), newspapers, tabloids, Net.
Especially, Net.
You open your social network account, wherever your account it is: F********R, T*****R, P***K, M*****E, M**T, F****U, B**O, mm, what else?

... Okay, that's all of it.

And you'll see updates, updates and more updates: which football team lost, who lost a bet (and a house, and a wife) because that $*#Tt* football team lost, who won a bet because that d@#*ed football team lost, what meals this-and-that made today for this-and-that's loveliest, who sang better today, whose bombs exploded where bringing how many closer to wherever (PIT might laugh at this. Or not) etc, and so on, and so forth...
Of course, what I mean by reading here is not reading those updates consisting of no more than 160 characters (who decided on the number, anyway?!): I'm talking about reading books. I'm talking about delving into a world which may not be wholly similar, or acutely different than ours. I'm maybe talking about reading fictions, but you can also get a kick reading non-fiction books. I'm talking about leaving the present and going back ten, twenty, one hundred, thousands of years into the Earth's past to see the making of the civilization, to read about humans killing humans, strong nations straddling the weaker ones, loves bloom--lost--crushed--regained--strengthened, trusts given and betrayed, promises delivered and broken, loyalty proven and demanded, honesty, integrity, the whole shenanigans.
You might argue those are things you get "reading" status updates, breaking news or latest gossips in tabloids, but I'm talking about world-shattering, nations-building ones, people, come on...
Or, you can jump to distant or not-too-distant future and see how the world of tomorrow unfurls. Though this kind of reading material belongs almost exclusively to fictions you can see the reflection of the past or present world in those worlds of tomorrow because that's where the authors draw their inspirations from anyway: Humans change but a little.
You might say that you don't have time to sit with a good book. I said that.
What I do now is reading on the train, on the bus, in bed, in the john.
What I read now are mostly e-books, either on my PDA or my NDS.
It is a luxury to sit down with a good book, real book I mean, and to smell the paper and feel weight of the book in your hands, but I don't stop reading.
No one should.

Don't You Just Love Logic?

'Before you can pass me, O mortal,' it said, 'you must answer my riddle.'

'Why?' said Teppic.
'What?' The Sphinx blinked at him. It hadn't been designed for this sort of thing.
'Why? Why? Because. Er. Because, hang on, yes, because I will bite your head off if you don't. Yes, I think that's it.'
'Right,' said Teppic. 'Let's hear it, then.'
The Sphinx cleared its throat with a noise like an empty lorry reversing in a quarry.
'What goes on four legs in the morning, two legs at noon, and three legs in the evening?' said the Sphinx smugly.
Teppic considered this.
'That's a tough one,' he said, eventually.
'The toughest,' said the Sphinx.
'Um.'
'You'll never get it.'
'Ah,' said Teppic.
'Could you take your clothes off while you're thinking? The threads play merry hell with my teeth.'
'There isn't some kind of animal that regrows legs that have been-'
'Entirely the wrong track,' said the Sphinx, stretching its claws.
'Oh.'
'You haven't got the faintest idea, have you?'
'I'm still thinking,' said Teppic.
'You'll never get it.'
'You're right.' Teppic stared at the claws.
This isn't really a fighting animal, he told himself reassuringly, it's definitely over-endowed. Besides, its bosom will get in the way, even if its brain doesn't.
'The answer is: "A Man",' said the Sphinx. 'Now, don't put up a fight, please, it releases unpleasant chemicals into the bloodstream.'
Teppic backed away from a slashing paw. 'Hold on, hold on,' he said. 'What do you mean, a man?'
'It's easy,' said the Sphinx. 'A baby crawls in the morning, stands on both legs at noon, and at evening an old man walks with a stick. Good, isn't it?'
Teppic bit his lip. 'We're talking about one day here?' he said doubtfully.
There was a long, embarrassing silence.
'It's a wossname, a figure of speech,' said the Sphinx irritably, making another lunge.
'No, no, look, wait a minute,' said Teppic. 'I'd like us to be very clear about this, right? I mean, it's only fair, right?'
'Nothing wrong with the riddle,' said the Sphinx. 'Damn good riddle. Had that riddle for fifty years, sphinx and cub.' It thought about this. 'Chick,' it corrected.
'It's a good riddle,' Teppic said soothingly. 'Very deep. Very moving. The whole human condition in a nutshell. But you've got to admit, this doesn't all happen to one individual in one day, does it?'
'Well. No,' the Sphinx admitted. 'But that is self-evident from the context. An element of dramatic analogy is present in all riddles,' it added, with the air of one who had heard the phrase a long time ago and rather liked it, although not to the extent of failing to eat the originator.
'Yes, but,' said Teppic crouching down and brushing a clear space on the damp sand, 'is there internal consistency within the metaphor? Let's say for example that the average life expectancy is seventy years, okay?'
'Okay,' said the Sphinx, in the uncertain tones of someone who has let the salesman in and is now regretfully contemplating a future in which they are undoubtedly going to buy life insurance.
'Right. Good. So noon would be age 35, am I right? Now considering that most children can toddle at a year or so, the four legs reference is really unsuitable, wouldn't you agree? I mean, most of the morning is spent on two legs. According to your analogy' he paused and did a few calculations with a convenient thighbone- 'only about twenty minutes immediately after 00.00 hours, half an hour tops, is spent on four legs. Am I right? Be fair.'
'Well-' said the Sphinx.
'By the same token you wouldn't be using a stick by six p.m. because you'd be only, er, 52,' said Teppic, scribbling furiously. 'In fact you wouldn't really be looking at any kind of walking aid until at least half past nine, I think. That's on the assumption that the entire lifespan takes place over one day which is, I believe I have already pointed out, ridiculous. I'm sorry, it's basically okay, but it doesn't work.'
'Well,' said the Sphinx, but irritably this time, 'I don't see what I can do about it. I haven't got any more. It's the only one I've ever needed.'
'You just need to alter it a bit, that's all.'
'How do you mean?'
'Just make it a bit more realistic.'
'Hmm.' The Sphinx scratched its mane with a claw.
'Okay,' it said doubtfully. 'I suppose I could ask: What is it that walks on four legs'
'Metaphorically speaking,' said Teppic.
'Four legs, metaphorically speaking,' the Sphinx agreed, 'for about-'
'Twenty minutes, I think we agreed.'
'Okay, fine, twenty minutes in the morning, on two legs***'
'But I think calling it in "the morning" is stretching it a bit,' said Teppic. 'It's just after midnight. I mean, technically it's the morning, but in a very real sense it's still last night, what do you think?'
A look of glazed panic crossed the Sphinx's face.
'What do you think?' it managed.
'Let's just see where we've got to, shall we? What, metaphorically speaking, walks on four legs just after midnight, on two legs for most of the day-'
'Barring accidents,' said the Sphinx, pathetically eager to show that it was making a contribution.
'Fine, on two legs barring accidents, until at least suppertime, when it walks with three legs-'
'I've known people use two walking sticks,' said the Sphinx helpfully.
'Okay. How about: when it continues to walk on two legs or with any prosthetic aids of its choice?'
The Sphinx gave this some consideration.
'Ye-ess,' it said gravely. 'That seems to fit all eventualities.'
'Well?' said Teppic.
'Well what?' said the Sphinx.
'Well, what's the answer?'
The Sphinx gave him a stony look, and then showed its fangs.
'Oh no,' it said. 'You don't catch me out like that. You think I'm stupid? You've got to tell me the answer.'
'Oh, blow,' said Teppic.
'Thought you had me there, didn't you?' said the Sphinx.
'Sorry.'
'You thought you could get me all confused, did you?'
The Sphinx grinned.
'It was worth a try,' said Teppic.
'Can't blame you. So what's the answer, then?'
Teppic scratched his nose.
'Haven't a clue,' he said. 'Unless, and this is a shot in the dark, you understand, it's: A Man.'
The Sphinx glared at him.
'You've been here before, haven't you?' it said accusingly.
'No.'
'Then someone's been talking, right?'
'Who could have talked? Has anyone ever guessed the riddle?' said Teppic.
'No!'
'Well, then. They couldn't have talked, could they?'
The Sphinx's claws scrabbled irritably on its rock.
'I suppose you'd better move along, then,' it grumbled.
'Thank you,' said Teppic.
'I'd be grateful if you didn't tell anyone, please,' added the Sphinx, coldly. 'I wouldn't like to spoil it for other people.'
Teppic scrambled up a rock and on to You Bastard.
'Don't you worry about that,' he said, spurring the camel onwards. He couldn't help noticing the way the Sphinx was moving its lips silently, as though trying to work something out.
(Terry Pratchett- Pyramids

Reprinted WITHOUT Permission from the distinguished Mr. Terry Pratchett

"No other success can replace failure at home," or such quote

I'm missing waiting for my kids' coming home from school
I'm missing looking at my kids on the floor drawing
I'm counting the minutes when I can be with them
Yes, minutes as those are all we have together

I'm missing coming to them, instead of having them come to me
I'm missing jumping down onto the floor to them, and not having them drag me down instead
I'm missing their carefree ignorance to the world ready to bite your head off and spit you out
No, they're not part of that world for they feel

And they see me as they want to hear me
And they hear me although they soon lose interest in me
They go after me yet they are so ready to ditch me for a new set of plaything
They want to play with me so they can beat me again and again

I miss them for that
And I want to go home having them eagerly waiting for me but will it mean they have been missing me?

I pray that they do not miss me 'cause it hurts to miss

"Flick it, baby. Fick it, I say." --A Nintendo DS Game Review--

It is known as Rhythm Tengoku Gold in Japan and it has finally been translated to English bearing the title: Rhythm Heaven.
And, boy, if it ain't heaven...

In this delightfully funny game, you get to hold your DS book-style, thus, you play the game totally using your stylus (and hearing).
Rhythm Heaven is a--as its name tels us-- a rhythm game. Ehm. You get to tap the touchscreen and also often times, flick the stylus on the touchscreen's surface, following the beat of 8-bit music or chiptunes, though sometimes there are some silly short cutie songs that you just gotta fall in love with after hearing them.

The game is divided into tens of short rhythm games each telling different "story," and Remix game where the short rhythm games are --err-- remixed.

Each rhythm game is funny, with many of them are so hilarious that they got me laughing so hard, I lose (There. If that's not one of the cheapest way to admit that the game beat you flat, I don't know what is); and each time we make a mistake, i.e. late to tap or to flick we'll get an evil eye from either a pair of monkeys, or a couple of ducks or whatever it is that accompanies you. You might even get a bird pooping on your mug. While you are an Easter Island statue. Now, THAT is funny.
And that's what I find as the biggest challenge in playing the game: Not to laugh and concentrate on the rhythm.
I sometimes find myself NOT looking at the screen and just use my hearing to get that "perfect-timing" to tap, and it often works.
The game is brought to you by the people that made Warioware games, so you know that wacky, crazy, insulting situation is the norm in this Gold.

Movie Review (What a title...)

I saw a movie the other week,
It was a cartoon, and as I sat there watching I couldn't believe the technological breakthrough in computer animation making the characters and everything else in this cartoon looking so deliciously yet dangerously lifelike
It was a cartoon for adults as it was intensely pornographic:
I saw obligatory head blows, chests burst and a stripper's breasts getting worked up the way you just gotta see to believe ....*shudder (in a tingly way)*

I saw over-the-top violence, it was pornographic

I saw a couple doing the "usual," but with a tinge of suggestion of bestiality (Is there such a thing as a BIG tinge? Oh well...)

I saw Rockstar's GTA all over the cartoon:
Carjacks, the bad-guy-main character's plight running from/after the the even-badder bad guys, over-the-top postures of the guys and girls. And gays. Kungfu fighting, music-pumping, obligatory-strip-club-bar-fighting etc. etc.
I also saw Rockstar's Bully in the cartoon:
vandalizing and fighting on the field
A parody? A plagiarism? An homage? A plagiarism as an homage to parodize? "Hurm..." as only Rorschach could deliver.

I saw a man making a desperate effort to save his li'l man from getting castrated, and that makes that man a brother a mine...

I saw the film and I couldn't help playing again the movie "Shoot 'em Up" in my mind, and made comparison. And decided that "Shoot 'em Up" is the better one.

I saw myself enjoying the cartoon, tho' the cartoon--which is a sequel--fell short from its first film. I guess the directors (same people that made the first film) tried so hard to up 'everything' in the sequel with the result most things blew (tho' not necessarily in a bad way)

I saw sweet Amy Smart, going at it again with that bloke, Jason Statham, and got hot under the collar... The bastard...
I saw the application of Law of Physics that I personally loved so much to experiment when I was but a tyke (You remember when you used to just love to rub plastic rulers as hard you might on the wooden table at school to generate static electricity after which you then got your friend's hair stood with that electrified ruler? Aah, those were the days..). On an elderly lady. Natch.

I saw a plot so ridiculous, the film has GOT to be a cartoon...

I had 90-minutes guilty-pleasure fun, that I can't wait to watch Postal again.

Title: Crank: High Voltage
Writers-Directors: Mark Neveldine & Brian Taylor
Cast: Jason Statham, Amy Smart, Dwight Yoakam, Clifton Collins Jr, David Carradine(?)

Manusia Serba Tidak

Sebagian manusia memang makhluk serba tidak.
Kita tak bisa puas, tak bisa terima kalah.
Manusia tidak gampang melihat ke belakang, tidak rajin bikin rencana ke depan.
Kita tak rajin minta maaf, tak sungkan jegal belakang.
Manusia tidak boleh ngeliat yang lebih bagus, tidak terima ngantri di belakang.
Kita tak tahan dikasih cobaan, tak pernah brenti teriak ngeluh.
Manusia tidak bisa sekuat gunung, tidak pernah berkaca melihat lemahnya.

Dan ini mengingatkan saya kepada sebuah buku yang saya baca belum lama berselang. Buku yg menarik perhatian selain karena judul dan sub-judulnya, juga karena saya mendapatkan pertanyaan yang tak terduga, membuat jengah, tergugu kelu hilang kata.
Sepanjang membaca buku perasaan saya campur aduk: bete, marah, mahfum, jengkel, berusaha untuk mengerti, tanam simpati, korek empati. Semua perasaan ini tertuju kepada tokoh yang saya anggap adalah tokoh antagonis dari cerita: Seorang manusia muda diberkahi kesehatan dan rupa yang prima, bisa sekolah, punya teman dan keluarga.
Diawal dia menyibukkan diri berbagai aktivitas yang diyakininya bisa membawa kebaikan bagi semua.
Hampir di sepanjang cerita dia melakukan komunikasi dengan yang saya sebut tokoh protagonis dalam cerita: Komunikasi dalam bentuk aksi maupun dalam bentuk kata-kata--bersuara maupun cukup dalam sukma. Mereka dekat--mungkin lebih dekat dari pada antara saya dan Yang Serba Maha.
Tokoh antagonis dan tokoh protagonis muncul di setiap halaman cerita.
Memasuki babak kedua dari cerita, serbuan berat dia terima. Segala rencana dan persekongkolan yang sudah jadi tumpuannya, lenyap buyar digerus aparat.
Oleh kolega dan orang yang dianngap sebagai pembimbing, dia merasa tercampakkan dan dikhianati.
Cerita berlanjut dan dia mulai memandang heran kepada tokoh yang saya anggap protagonis dalam cerita tadi:
"Kemana kamu dikala aku tercampak?" Mau apa kamu ada di sana? tanyaku sementari jemari membalik halaman buku.
Lanjutan cerita semakin mengikis rasa simpati. Dia sibuk mencari kesana-kemari, sementara yang diperlukannya sudah jelas saya bisa melihatnya. Tidakkah dia juga bisa melihat? Tentu saja dia bisa. Dia toh pandai tak kurang akal.
Yang dicarinya selalu yang paling dekat, tapi kenapa dia harus merasa mencari selangkah lebih kedepan? Dia memilih merapat ke manusia yang lemah; dan ikutlah dia melemah. Dan apa yang dilakukannya? Keluh-kesah hingga serapah, serangan yang dia gulirkan ke tokoh yang saya anggap protagonis dari cerita.
Sebuah contoh yang bikin saya tutup hati: Serangan beruntun telah menerpa, teralamat ke salah satu orang yang dia paling hargai. Dalam gundahnya dia berjalan, dia melihat seorang kenalannya yang dia tahu adalah seorang dealer. Apa yang dipilih untuk dilakukannya? Mendatangi kenalannya itu dan terjun bebas ke dalamnya dunia.
Didekatinya orang yang dia tahu nanar dengan molek dan lezatnya masakan kamar tidur--lezat dirasa apapun kelaminnya. Dia mereguk dan minta direguk, dia nikmat tapi kembali menyumpah tidak terima.
Lemahkah dia? Ya.
Mengaku lemahkah dia? Dia menjerit dan dalam jeritannya ada keluhan, hujatan, cemoohan, hinaan. Dikemanakan semua logika, pengetahuan dari bangku sekolah sejak TK hingga PT yang diterimanya?
Mengaku lemahkan dia? Tidak.
Kenapa harus berlari ke yang lain dari jenisnya?
Untuk apa mengais-ngais selamat dari yang dia sendiri nikmat masyuk turut jerumus dan menjerumuskan?
Dan cuplikan Devil's Advocate membayang di pelupuk mata saya: Detik-detik akhir filem dimana Al Pacino's Devil diiringi seringainya berkata: "Vanity. That's gotta be my favorite sin."
Hidupnya berlanjut dengan keputusannya untuk perang melawan tokoh yang saya anggap protagonis dalam cerita. Ikrarnya adalah untuk untuk tidak mendekati tokoh yang saya anggap protagonis dalam cerita tapi 1001+ hujatan dan fitnahan terus dia lontarkan.
Lewat raganya dia bilang menghukumi dunia dan dirinya sendiri, sementara dia mengambil nikmat dan manfaat dari penghukuman diri ini; dan, tentu saja, fitnahan dan hujatan terus dia lontarkan.

Vanity is also OUR greatest sin.
Kita tidak bisa berhenti mengeluh tapi kita juga tidak berhenti sombong. Merasa punya disaat tiada. Merasa kekurangan disaat punya walaupun sedikit. Merasa lebih disaat punya jauh lebih sedikit.
Tidak pernah lepas pandangi orang lain; tidak pernah betah pandangi cermin hati.

Kita tentu saja termasuk saya.

Saya tidak mau memberitahu apa judul buku maupun siapa penulisnya sebab saya tidak merekomendasikan membaca buku ini. Membaca buku ini melelahkan karena isinya dipenuhi dengan serangan-serangan sumpah serapah, fitnahan dan hujatan walaupun tentu saja akhir cerita (setidaknya saya yakin seyakin-yakinnya) bisa disimpulkan dengan tokoh yang saya anggap protagonis dalam cerita mendapatkan kemenangan (dan saya juga yakin seyakin-yakinnya, kemenangan ini membuat tokoh yang saya anggap protagonis dalam cerita sedih).
Saya malah merekomendasikan membaca Crime and Punishment tulisan Fyodor Dostoyevsky:
Ada satu tokoh--Sonya, namanya--yang membuat saya jatuh cinta ketika membaca buku ini dimasa kuliah teknik komputer dulu (nggak nyambung ya...?). Dia hanya bekerja di dunia prostitusi.
Ada satu lagi tokoh--Dunya, namanya--yang membuat saya semakin dalam terjerumus cinta dalam dunia anak-anak: Begitu bersih, dan teramat terang. Dia hanya seorang anak yang menyayangi abangnya tanpa prakondisi.
Baca deh: Bagus, gila.

"A friend of yours?" "Well, I know the person..." Part I

So there I am, opening Facebook and am presented with many names accompanying pictures that if I think loong and haaard may invite certain recollection. The thing is that all these names/pictures have this cute li'l tab that reads Add as Friend...
Now what's a guy to do? (I'm talking about me... OK?)
Should I just click-click-click away those tabs, making these people "my friends"?

Are they "my friends"?
Am I their "friend"?

Yes, I know them. And I may know some things about them, be it their occupations or certain personality traits, but here comes those questions again: Are they my friends? and Am I theirs?
I have my own understanding of this word: friend.
I have friends, thank God, meaning that I consider them friends. But whether they consider me their friends, you gotta ask them that. I realize that I don't consider myself having many friends, and you know what? It suits me so very fine (NOT having many friends, I mean).
I choose my friends, I am teaching my kids to choose their friends very carefully. And I believe that these friends of mine, either consciously or subconsciously, "choose" to befriend me for whatever reasons.
Why am I teaching my kids to choose their friends? Because there are people out there that I strongly believe will bring harm to my kids should they become friends. I believe that NOT everyone fits to be someone else's friend. The bottom line is there are bad people out there. That is how the world is.
I can live with just a few people whom I can really call friends. And I will not befriend someone whom I think will bring me harm. I grew up being taught that one should not fall into the same hole twice, and there are qualities--good and bad--that everyone possesses; and, because of this I don't mind losing "so-called friends." (Hey, there are 6.6+ billion people in this world, what's losing a "friend" or two?)
I believe in redemption, but it is not for me to give and to prove whether a person has indeed redeemed himself.
Am I a person holding a grudge? I am a cautious person.
So, until there is another cute li'l tab that reads Add as Acquaintance, I'll stick with a few friends I have and believe.

*Fiuuh, that's a lot of F-words...*

Who watches The Watchmen?

Do yourselves a BIG, BIG favor: Read Moore and Gibbon's WATCHMEN the book/the graphic novel/the comics or what-the-heck-ever you wanna call it.
How can you appreciate or catch ALL the multi-layered nuances, the secrets, the depths, the messages, the JOKES that you can find hidden in plain (and not-so-plain) sights in Mr. Gibbons's beautiful artwork if "it is being dragged through the experience at the speed of 24 frames per second"?
I'm not lambasting Mr. Snyder's hard work on the movie, mind you as I haven't seen it but this is about truly experiencing what the creators of the work wanted the readers to get/be indulged in/be aware of.
Watchmen is one BIG complex and multi-layered work/labor of love supplemented with excerpts from imaginary books, journals, articles. Now, how do you get/read those watching the movie.
There are stories within the stories which you can get or learn as you re-read the book, examine each panel, trace each line of dialog, study the facial expressions and gesture, flip to the next pages, then flip back back to the previous one. Watchmen gets you thinking... Now, ain't that fun?
So who reads the WATCHMEN?

Of lying at his feet, foot massage and a cycle

The last few weeks have got me wondering whether life really is a cycle, as at nights I found myself sleeping at my kid's feet; just as I sometimes did when I was still little.
I used to sneak into my parents' bedroom, and I would lay at their feet, until they woke me up for school.
As I was often times asked by my dad to massage his feet, now I find myself massaging my kid's feet--sometimes at nights when I am accompanying him to sleep, and I lay at his feet.
There's no complaint, here.
Simply wondering