Fraudulent Email

Hello World!

In case your Inbox receives a message that reads like below, then it’s a scam::::::::

Good Morning,

I am writing this with tears in my eyes just hoping this email reaches you well, I’m sorry for this emergency and for not informing you about my trip to Scotland, United Kingdom but I just have to let you know my present predicament. Everything was fine until I was attacked on my way back to the hotel. All cash, credit cards and cell were stolen off me. I’ve been to the embassy today and the Police here but they’re not helping issues at all. I need your help to settle the bills and get myself back home. I will refund it back when i return home. All i need now is just (£950 GBP) will cover all my expenses but i will appreciate whatsoever you can afford to wire right now, You can have it wired to my name via any Western Union Outlet around you….. I’ll have to show my passport as ID to pick it up here and I promise to pay you back as soon as I get back home hopefully Tomorrow. Here is my info where you will wire the money to:

Name :  —-your name appears here—-
Location : 19 Festival Square Edinburgh, Scotland, EH3 9SR
Country : United Kingdom —-(or any other address)—-

As soon as it has been done, kindly get back to me with the western union confirmation number… Let me know if you are heading to the Western Union outlet now.

–your name again–

(above updated and edited Dec. 14, 2015)

❤ ❤ Thank you for reading. Have a nice sunshiny day! ❤


UPDATE. October 30, 2015

Hello again. Here is an avenue to your email account’s intrusion. A message that’s very similar on the picture below will make you feel alarmed and before you know it you would have clicked on the “UPDATE NOW” link and then have typed away your password, too. Never do these two steps.

Just move the message to your Spam folder, then copy the FROM email address and add it to your Blocked Addresses (Settings>Options>Blocked Addresses), and then delete the message.

Change your password also if you feel safer by doing it. In case the picture below is not clear enough, you can access the pdf copy of it, here:  sample sneaky email-acct attack

sample sneaky email-acct attack

— sample sneaky email-acct attack —

Have a good day everyone! Take care!

absolutely appalling

I heard the news today.

They destroyed ancient artifacts. Those were not there for the sake of art admiration. Those were not there for the sake of national pride. Those were not there to attract tourists.

Those were mirrors of humanity. Those belonged to the entire phenomenon that is human life. Those were priceless. Nobody deserves to privately own them, any of them. They were kept there, rightfully so, so that humanity does not forget who s/he is.

I join the entire collective civilization regardless of epoch, identity, worldview; I join all who choose life rather than death; I join all who take care of fellow human beings rather than those who only seek personal “salvation”; I join all who celebrate life in the condemnation of the actions that led to the destruction of the Mosul Museum today.

Update 6March2015:





…may never pass this way again

After two attempts I realize anew how difficult it is to present a script against a non-even background. Maybe you can share a tip with me?

WE MAY NEVER PASS THIS WAY AGAINThis is among my favorite songs. If it’s yours, too, then please you’re welcome to save the image to your files. If you have just gotten acquainted with its lyrics then for sure you’ll see that it’s very engaging. That is without the melody even. The melody is a happy one and it produces so many pictures in my head, but I have only two here to share with you.

Again, a favorite picture for it depends on which side of life’s experiences I’d choose to focus and hold on to. So I have a darker and a lighter picture here. However, I reflected that the darker picture that I have here shouldn’t necessarily represent gloominess or regret or any “down” expression. It has been said that the darkest part of the night is immediately followed by the break of light. So in my background-picture I tried to bring out the reds, and then made the font in pale yellow, a gentle sun. This picture does not let me dwell in sadness, therefore.

...may never pass this way againAs to this lighter picture, the original is a brilliant contrast of yellows against the overwhelming leaves. This picture reminds me a bit of how the Japanese would say that life is an illusion, and hence the high regard for the fleeting presence of the cherry blossoms. Similarly here, though there are leaves instead of the cherry blossoms (sakura), this riot of life seems to be aware that not for long everything has to be minimized. Soon exuberance has to ebb, activity has to hibernate.

🙂  (clicking on each image above enlarges it many times)

: the originals :

light and fleeting (1) light and fleeting (2)Both pictures belong to life, both pictures can represent the song, and many more, for each of us.

I think I’ve managed to say a bit about the song for now.


please have a nice weekend, and thanks for dropping by

“Just the Way You Are”

I didn’t know that “Just the Way You Are” is Billy Joel’s song, back in 1977. I have liked that song ever since I can remember. But I knew Billy Joel only from his 1983 “Uptown Girl”, a fast song, and hence I associated him with such. Well, better late (at finding out of his range of musical prowess) than never.

Among the song’s lines (these have) fascinated me the most:

I don’t want clever conversation
I never want to work that hard, mmm
(I just want someone that I can talk to
I want you just the way you are)

Billy Joel _singing Just the Way You AreI was prompted to write this post when I discovered, upon seeing a video of him singing the song, live and on the keys, that this stanza is the refrain in that it’s the one he repeats before he ends.

At first I could hardly believe that I was looking at Billy Joel in a formal suit. Then I noticed that he was sweating profusely. That, itself, was fascinating to me because it seemed he was not bothered by all this liquid on his face. Then I noticed, while the camera was focused on his right profile, that a trickle of liquid is highlighted on a path on his cheek that does not seem to be on the continuity from  his forehead. I would have loved to have turned to someone sitting beside me and ask, “Is he crying?”

I have always highly regarded this song. Since this is the first time I have seen somebody singing it live then I wanted to believe that Billy Joel was singing it straight from his heart. Maybe he was singing it to a specific somebody. I liked his “cool” performance because I thought he did not “try hard” at “acting out” at sincerity. He came out as simply sincere.

Recently this song’s “I don’t want clever conversation; I never want to work that hard” has become even more significant to me as I continue to circulate among people who “have lots to say” <– which exactly is what I, many a time, catch my own self doing 😀 😀 !!!

I can’t remember when was the first time I practiced putting my cerebral goods out into the open for those in conversation with me to see that I have managed to save lots on my tabula not-so-anymore rasa. If I did not know much about the subject then I would resort to expressing interest on it, using inquiries, by way of relating it to something else I would know more of.

So I was saying, that recently I realized what I was doing, and what the game everybody else seem to be playing. Clever conversations. Gak. It’s draining on the, um, I don’t know… nerves? … qi? … soul? 😀 whatever 😀

Did you know that for the Inuits they traditionally believe that too much thinking insults the spirit? And have you heard of the story about Africans who were hired as luggage carriers by some foreigners (or was it to guide in the hunting??) that one day, after hiking non-stop for days, they simply stopped and sat down and refused to move from the spot until, they said, their souls have caught up with them. I love both of these expressions against “thinking too much.” ❤

I guess I’m starting to really grow old now. Heheh. I feel like I have tried to participate at the parade of peacocks, have tried to compete, and then I only discovered that unless one comes out as “simply sincere” then all the sashaying is an insubstantial game. Hollow. A babel of sounds that fall on deaf ears. Poor overworked brain cells 🙂

Suddenly I am reminded of C. S. Lewis’ explanation on the thin line between pride (in association with being “good”) that is okay and pride that is foul. The parade of peacocks was how he illustrated one of those. With their feather-fans all out in proud display. (This is in his book Mere Christianity. This is among my favorites because it was one of those that started opening windows to me.)

Okay. Now my blah blah blah is complete for the moment ❤ Take care! And if ever one of these days you find yourself  sitting down on your haunches ruminating on this supposedly God’s-love-for-you thing, then I hope you’ll recall this song’s lovely line, “I love you just the way you are.”


A New Song


yellow poster


(The quote is a copy from somewhere. Thanks! I assembled the poster. Am I getting better at it, or what? 🙂 Thanks to the original photographer!)

(the intended script is still cooking in the dendrites; but the poster is yummy enough. peace!) ❤

Missing Bag

Here in Fangorn where I live you’d be fined with 10€ if you lost your house keys.

house keysLast Saturday I was, along with others, with three friends Veejay, Moira, and Targ. Veejay and Targ are my elders and are biennial visitors and so I treat them with special care. Moira is the new gal in the pack, one with whom I am comfortable and so sometimes runs the risk of being taken for granted if I’m not careful.

On the way home from our long-distance outing I was sitting with Targ on the bus, absorbed and mesmerized by tales only the likes of him have experienced: tales of alertness and readiness and endurance and solitude. I asked him to tell of what he can to me and so, dedicated on the subject as we were, I even got to take home for keeps some diagrams of paraphernalia that unless he did a rough sketch of I barely would have been able to imagine, and so be able to incorporate into the new-found world forming at the back of my head.

Targ was, for some reason, alert for Veejay’s movements and so it didn’t surprise me that bags were reshuffled as we alighted the bus, on our final stop now, so that Targ carries a bit of Veejay’s load. Targ was looking out for Veejay, I was waiting to walk with Targ, Moira was waiting to ride our non-visitors’ bus home with me — and so there we were four.

I know that Targ didn’t see it coming, none of us did, but Veejay suddenly broke out in cold sweat, couldn’t take one step more, and was generally running out of breath. Speaking for myself, I was scared for Veejay.

Targ got in charge of Veejay’s load, us three distributing it among ourselves, as I held Veejay’s arm to steady him. We had to stop at a bench for a while until Veejay got the courage to take baby steps, counting down the mileage (in meters, that is) until we got to their hotel. Veejay cleared with us that he was going to be fine and so we let him rest, while quietly going to Targ’s room after unanimously deciding that we had to call up our Big Dad to inform him of Veejay’s little incident.

All that done Moira and I exited Targ’s room and was breezily walking on the way home. I was chattering away like my usual chipmunk self, swinging my arms this way and that, virtually singing on the shadowy road because at last I was going to be on my peaceful abode in just a few minutes hence.

We had to wait for 10 minutes for our bus and so I gleefully showed Moira the treasure sketches I just acquired from Targ. On to the bus I kept on my chattering even though Moira was more ‘half dead’ (as our teacher would tease us) of fatigue than I was.

!!!!omo-momo-momo!!!! where’s my backpack!!!! <== my brain screamed as we were about to get off …

… I have my clothes there, my precious notes and book, my pink flip-flops, and most importantly my house keys!!!!

my pink flip-flops

Where oh where oh where is it???? I wanted to kick myself for leaving it at the bus stop, or so I thought. It’s Saturday night and the apartments’ warden is naturally relaxing with beer among his friends though at nearly 11 PM might even be asleep already.

With 10 minutes to spare me and Moira searched for the warden’s room (we never had a reason to search for it before), had him (who was unusually joky and smelling of beer, of course) open my room for me, and then rushed past him on to the approaching bus, while shouting to him that “!wir finden es” by which he cracked another inaudible joke at our retreating backs — something about discos blah blah…

Quickly on the bus back again, while hoping that nobody had picked it up from the bus stop bench, Moira and I had to rouse our brains and do some theoretical sleuthing on other possibilities. Oh, wow, now we had to grope for the logic that detectives are supposed to employ, with their magnifying lenses. We simply had to laugh at our crazy extended outing, forced to ‘rise’ from the almost ‘dead’ tiredness we had found ourselves in many hours past already.

I was not even slightly sure then but slowly it came back to me that I deposited that pretty backpack beneath Targ’s hotel room table that is beside the window, to make room as Moira and I were inputing Big Dad’s phone number into a mobile phone ready for Targ to call from when he comes back shortly after having to fetch downstairs his huge traveling case. I deduced then that if indeed I left my backpack at the bus stop I should have performed an about-turn motion with my body before leaving Targ’s room in order to pick it up from under the table. Since I am sure that I didn’t make such a motion then the conclusion is that it’s still there under the table.

A couple sitting at where Moira and I sat before while waiting for the bus home looked at me strangely as I stooped to take a very good look at a backpack deposited beside them. Nope, it wasn’t pink. On to Targ’s, then.

Like the way prehistoric man called out to each other across distances and the dark back when fire was the most precious commodity, I simply decided to shout out Targ’s name towards all and any of the hotel windows that COULD POSSIBLY include Targ’s. Speaking of taking crazy chances. (The reception desk is vacant; Targ does not use a mobile phone in Fangorn.) For 15 minutes still no Targ. I reasoned that if the bag was indeed there with him then it will remain to be there regardless of whether Targ saw us or not. If the bag wasn’t there then it still won’t be there even if Targ saw us. Conclusion: It’s either lost or not, and we should be going home.

(We had a second clue: had my backpack been with me I wouldn’t have been able to freely raise my hands in the air at a full stretch as we were walking away from the hotel earlier, to the bus stop. A third clue: Moira could not recall seeing a backpack beside me as we sat at the bench waiting for the bus.)

Naturally Moira was putting up a usual cheery face through my lunatic chattering, helplessly oblivious to any mental stimulus now. Had I not been so uptight we two could have slept the night off right there on the running bus.

Here in Fangorn where I live it could happen that some drunk after an entire night’s party would insist on turning your locked door’s knob repeatedly even when you have been doing your harshest !go-away shout, plus matching banging at your side of the door, for 10 minutes already. I was then about to call the police when I sensed that, after 40 minutes of standing at attention, no one’s at the other side anymore. The night following I tried to figure out how McGyver would secure together two adjacent doors with a shoestring, a shoe rack, and a cooking pan so that when the outer door is forcibly opened the door next to it will be simultaneously stuck firmly in place, effectively preventing a larger aperture of the former, unless the person trying to barge in was Incredible Hulk. Then I really will have to be able to call the police stat with just a single-push dial on my non-Smart handy.

This evening without my keys I was confident enough to sleep soundly with my door secured, my gray flip-flops put in place of the cooking pan, which makes it now a slightly more sophisticated system. Only Targ can do a nice sketch of it and since he’s away right now then I can’t show you the configuration, one which Targ jokes I should get patented.

my pretty backpackTarg brought my backpack to church the following day, walking with much bigger baby steps along the way with Veejay. Targ’s strong and he thought nothing of carrying what was a bit heavy for me, also casually waving off my implied apology.

I’ve been trained not to lose keys since I was 15. I’ve been trained not to lose bags since I was 7. I’ve changed residences 12 times. I generally am not prone to losing stuff along the way. I was 6 the last time something similar happened to me. (Indeed, I found my cute umbrella again, back then . . . ) I did not forget my backpack just because I’ve become a coffee drinker. I have no explanation whatsoever why I was as carefree as a kite for the 40 minutes between having turned my back on my backpack and realizing that I did so. Only cerebral deduction assured me that it was safe with Targ, and survival instinct dictated that I won’t be annihilated should I have lost it…

And when, indeed, I saw it with Targ the following day, I later felt like a new creation.


email accounts can get finicky


Some websites ask for email addresses before access and since I want to protect my privacy I create aliases. Consequently I have email accounts that I hardly open for months. It turns out that they get finicky once you neglect them for long.

I just spent a precious 1+half hours today trying to modify security settings on two accounts that suddenly I had to use. So now I’m resolved to open these accounts of mine at least once a week. That way the platform won’t treat me with suspicion. 😀

Plus, here’s what  I see outside my window:

cool but gray

Thankfully the temperature isn’t lower than 20°C and so I rethought about considering it a downer-day 😉 I used to love rains when I was a kid, that’s why. They were magical times for us siblings, regardless of whether there were howling winds or loud thunderstorms outside. ❤ Inside the house we were warm and dry, cooking up make-believe games sometimes even with blankets and sprawled all over the shiny floors. We would laugh ourselves silly after a sudden spark and a clap of thunder in the heavens stun us for a second. ❤ Childhood.

Take care of your email accounts. Thankfully my Yahoo has been stable. Recently in the midst of aberrations and crashes mine has stayed intact with even more than 2,000 unread messages! I deleted about 500 yesterday to accommodate incoming ones, but I don’t think I’ve done enough. I must find time to secure into my hard drive the ones that are important. Others will even advise printing hard copies. I might do that, too.

Happy working day, everyone! God loves you and me unconditionally ❤

thankful for the dreams

One of the things I don’t like about academic work is that it’s taking away much of my sleep time.

I like sleeping. I like the feeling of falling down whenever I’m on the verge of it, which usually happen when I was particularly mobile that day. The first time I remembered it happen I was about 4 or 5, the time I started going to school. The sensation of falling down then was associated with my dream of floating down slowly from where I could see a basketball ring, like associating my fall with a ball’s going down trajectory but in slow motion. During those times it would happen to me I’d feel apprehensive. For one, I can’t fly. So it’s associated with helplessness. But later on when I had to cut some of my sleeping time I found myself welcoming those feelings of letting go, like they’ve become for me transition states from the world of stress into the world of contentment.

What I am thankful about just now is that I still have the capacity to almost immediately start dreaming just a few minutes into closing my eyes.

"Concurrent" by sacadalang 2012.

“Concurrent” by sacadalang 2012. [or worms? 🙂 ]

Sometimes it doesn’t even have to take the closing of my eyes before I’d start dreaming. These are those times when I’ve been sitting tire-fully in class and fighting off sleep and then suddenly I’d realize I’m witnessing something that doesn’t belong in class. One time I was sitting up perfectly straight at a teacher’s lecture, pen in hand, but the things I write down have nothing to do with the lesson. All the while my act of writing down was supposedly for taking down notes. Voila. Before I knew it I was already in dreamland 🙂 I was writing down words associated with my dream. One of those was “worm”, and I think it was because my teacher was then using a flower, drawing it on the board in chalk, for illustrating some abstract algebra concept that had to do with rotations and flips and turns (hahaha! I couldn’t even understand it perfectly then!) and there I was writing down on my notebook the word for creatures having the same body shape with caterpillars, creatures that wriggle on plants (haha!)

I don’t want to lose this ability to instantaneously dream. For minute naps they are my sure proof that indeed I have fallen asleep, and I feel glad for having them.