Flynn's Paws: My Thoughts, My Gripes

Month: September 2010

  • So Obvious

    A couple of minutes ago, the tall guy waved, smiled and greeted me. He went over to Bobby’s desk behind me. Then he walks off and rather LOUDLY says:

    “I’m just a messenger.”

    I replied to the obvious:

    “Same here.”

    He then pretends to yuck it up with Jen next door to me and he walks off obviously humoring himself.

    I said under my voice but a very slightly louder and then later on:

    “Was I supposed to have heard that?”

    “It’s a small world!”

    Yesterday after 2:00pm or so, another guy was yucking up with the boss and pals two desks behind me. As he left from that area towards the back door, he said:

    “I’m already house broken.”

    Again, I said under my breath:

    “Was I supposed to have heard that?”

    So I thought to myself: You guys are all dogs! At least your wives/girlfriends softened you up for women like me. Brouhaha!

  • 20100915-Divorced Nutter

    Upon returning home from a long day’s work yesterday evening at around 6:30am, I see the divorced nutter LoLinda G. scowling in my direction from the opened garage door. Usually, Juan M. her second husband (an illegal ALIEN) is not around. Her inner demons have created a competitor dating her Juan. That target happens to be any female, namely and conveniently moi. Thank goodness I had my shades on. I looked in her direction quickly but left right away to the front door and rang the doorbell. The boy was there to answer and to leave right away, too. He was there since 5:00pm. We wondered why he stayed so long for no reason at all.

  • Nice Company

    Besides feeling better today, sylphs abound and are eating chemtrails – one long about an hour and a half ago and another now. The sun is shining and the skies are crispier and bluer! At around 12:40am, I had already crossed the cul-de-sac from the workplace. And the tall guy waved, smiled and joined me. He wanted to eat a sandwich at Olives Greek Cafe off N. First St. in San Jose.

    There were work people eating. They looked in my direction and I dare not show my work badge. I sat down at a small, dark, wooden table for two while waiting for him to order his food. It looked like a salad wrapped in a high-rise bread of some sort. He offered me a

    baklava:-

    Baklava (Ottoman Turkish: باقلوا) is a rich, sweet pastry made of layers of phyllo dough filled with chopped nuts and sweetened with syrup or honey.

    (Oh! That word`baklava` closely resembles a Filipino word for homosexuality: `bakla`! I should have joked with him about the food and the word and if he had thought that I was bakla or something). Honestly, he was very kind; otherwise it would have been weird for me to just sit there and watch him eat his food. The snack was TOO sweet for me. But I enjoyed his company nonetheless.

    So we walked and talked about stuff, mostly relationships of people, his family and of my philosophy and more about me later on. I talked about how his two children (are not inconvenience but) decided to incarnate and chose him to be their father; how I avoided office romance because of a VERY good-looking golfer guy I once dated and how people choose what they feel is right, swallow their own truth, spit out the ones they don’t like and sometimes profit from regurgitated truths – or (as he put it) derivatives (or in my mind – of the matrix).

    I learned of his sentiments of dating a Filipina for six years (off and on), his bum ankle from doing heavy-lifting squats, how he walks slow for others because of his long strides, his tired eyes from lack of sleep, the melodious Filipina talking, the Filipino languages he learned from his co-workers and clients, the nice Vietnamese hat and the date of his employment here:- It’s a double-digit number – 22, by the way, a co-incidence to my last date of my former employer. He mentioned something melancholy in my eyes. I told him it’s a burden one must carry for knowing too much. It’s really called a

    thousand-yard stare:-

    The thousand-yard stare or two-thousand-yard stare is a phrase originally coined to describe the limp, unfocused gaze of a battle-weary soldier. The stare is a characteristic of acute stress reaction, also known as combat stress reaction, which is related to post-traumatic stress disorder.[1]

    The despondent stare is a symptom displayed by victims who have succumbed to the shock of trauma by dissociation from it. The phrase originated from military circumstances, but it is a symptom of severe psychological distress that can occur anywhere and is not unique to soldiers.

    If only these people realize the burden one carries in silence, the eyes could never say exactly but show only a small window into one’s soul (or secret).

  • Forgiving Sinners

    Today, Maw made a Chinese parishoner cry. The woman had cut in front of their car. Both wanted to take the left lane, which is marked by orange cones to separate those parents who are dropping off their children to school towards the right lane.

    The woman’s action scared Maw, who was shaking. In her usual abrassive and loud voice, Maw confronted the woman. Maw never used nasty, hurtfuly words around people or her family. It’s the loudness and directness that takes people off guard. They in turn misunderstand the Maw’s action as a fight. Idiots.

    Anyway, the woman was on the defense and tried to calm Maw down by reaching out her hand since the situation was in the parking lot and in front of the church. But Maw was trying to explain the situation of being more courteous next time. Paw backed Maw up about courtesy. I had to point out that she had parked her gray-colored, mini-SUV crooked. The right rear tire was over the white marker.

    So the Chinese wanted to hug Maw. Both did. The Chinese cried and said she was sorry for scaring her. Earlier, I tried to block the two from touching each other by holdng my hands together in front my forehead and chest several times. That worked until they hugged. Poi was there to tell the woman it’s a bad habit to cut in front of people and to be in a hurry.

    Later inside the church, Maw pointed out (with my help) our name placard of donation for a Pew. Fred (the usher) walked in and I told him Maw made her cry and shared with him how I was feeling sad the past few days and how I cry one day prior to that monthly thing, even though it’s not a full moon. The poor lady was left to dry her tears near the dedication of donations.

    We sat ourselves in the frontmost pew and today’s gospel was from:

    Luke 7:36-50

    36
    10 11 A Pharisee invited him to dine with him, and he entered the Pharisee’s house and reclined at table.
    37
    Now there was a sinful woman in the city who learned that he was at table in the house of the Pharisee. Bringing an alabaster flask of ointment,
    38
    she stood behind him at his feet weeping and began to bathe his feet with her tears. Then she wiped them with her hair, kissed them, and anointed them with the ointment.
    39
    When the Pharisee who had invited him saw this he said to himself, “If this man were a prophet, he would know who and what sort of woman this is who is touching him, that she is a sinner.”
    40
    Jesus said to him in reply, “Simon, I have something to say to you.” “Tell me, teacher,” he said.
    41
    “Two people were in debt to a certain creditor; one owed five hundred days’ wages 12 and the other owed fifty.
    42
    Since they were unable to repay the debt, he forgave it for both. Which of them will love him more?”
    43
    Simon said in reply, “The one, I suppose, whose larger debt was forgiven.” He said to him, “You have judged rightly.”
    44
    Then he turned to the woman and said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? When I entered your house, you did not give me water for my feet, but she has bathed them with her tears and wiped them with her hair.
    45
    You did not give me a kiss, but she has not ceased kissing my feet since the time I entered.
    46
    You did not anoint my head with oil, but she anointed my feet with ointment.
    47
    So I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven; hence, she has shown great love. 13 But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little.”
    48
    He said to her, “Your sins are forgiven.”
    49
    The others at table said to themselves, “Who is this who even forgives sins?”
    50
    But he said to the woman, “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.”

    The above exemplar is meant to show us why today’s encounter is yet another MESSAGE for me and why certain people are brought together: To learn hard lessons in life from hard teachers/masters. And as sinners, we too must ask forgiveness. As for that debt, I don’t care anymore. You’re forgiven Pete. I hate you.

    Addendum-Last edited by FLYNN on 20100916 at 08:52:21 am: The woman’s parents are Chinese but the family lived in the Philippines. Plus, she could speak a little Filipino language. I had to point out how Paw looked like someone from Hong Kong. She looks dark-skinned and more like a Filipino.

  • Stupid Symbols

    So here I am again at my desk. I came back from the mini lunchroom to dispense my daily dose of Flavia coffee, which is usually either Columbia flavor or the Milky Way Swirl (pack 1 of 2) and Cappuccino Latte (pack 1 of 2), which really is a substitute for the missing pack 2.

    So the skinny boy with brown dots all over his skin came in as I left the place and we greeted each other. I noticed that he was wearing a pewter necklace. It is circular in shape and has a scrolled design of a tree, which could be oak. In my mind, I thought he’s trying to be (or maybe is) a druid. I laughed softly to myself and thought `entities` are truly into symbols to express (or at least to communicate their `group affiliation`).

    Do you know what I think? Those symbols mean little to me. If all of us were to be born again as little children, we would not know the difference between a circle and a square. The only symbol that manifested in my mind as I made my way towards the work station was a vertically-shaped symbol, a middle finger (or a phallic-shaped obelisk). So take that as my message to you symbol-loving `entities` and shove it.

  • 20100916-Tweaking Again

    It’s sheer madness to be an addicted weblogger and an amateur CSS editor to my paid upgrade! Again, I’ve been switching themes and editing my custom CSS stylesheet. So right now, I’m back to using the The Journalist v1.9 by Lucian E. Marin because of the unique `archive template` featuring archives, categories AND tags! With this theme, I get my preferred TIME stamp as well as the `links template`.

    Based on the Twenty Theme theme stylesheet, I’ve increased the `font size` to 16 pixels and used a simple `font family` of `Georgia` and `Serif`. With the blue-colored background of crispy, clear blue skies above and the white-washed, foam of sea water below, reading will be much brighter and easier, too!

  • Sadness Days

    For the past two days, I’ve been feeling sadness and weepy, too. It could have been triggered by a photo of hurt kitty cat. Usually, I get really emotional one day prior to that monthly thing. I noticed that the moon is not quite full. But for whatever reason, I imagined my emotional state has connected to a death in a family somewhere and somehow. Usually, it means someone I don’t know too well.

    Anyway, both my bio-units were emotional yesterday. Maw had folded a dark pink, hand towel to the right of a beach towel. Both are hanging over the toilet. But for whatever reason, Paw decided to place that particular hand towel in its original location – hanging on the outside of the shower glass door. For that small item, she was VERY angry.

    And poor Paw felt hurt from doing something wrong but in his mind it was the right and comfortable thing to do. His voice was filled with tears while the three of us said the rosary. Usually, he’s good about hacking out this throat for at least a good ten minutes or so. But that night, I heard he wasn’t as loud in praying as he used to be, just like tonight.

    And again, last night, I let my `torrent of tears` flow silently while trying to get some sleep for the night. But I had to stifle those tears in order to prevent my sinuses from clogging up and my eyes from puffing up.

    Whatever happened in those days may have coincided with the LONG-DISTANCE phone calls from the Philippines. Again, the only time people dare to call my bio-units and ME is not to find out how we are doing or if we are still alive. No! These fools only bother us when they need money.

    The nephew who has spent all of his inheritance money from his dead parents’ house has found a buyer for land property that does not belong to him. The niece, too, has been noted for gambling and lying about her bag being slashed and her wallet being stolen. She has been the one trying to contact the property owner regarding the title.

    Now, here is the strange coincidence: Something was supposed to have occurred in this month and I don’t even know the details just yet. From my gut feelings, this is yet another attempt to prey on the elderly, my bio-units. My paternal relatives have been trying to get my bio-units to pay money in CASH. I believe it’s called “flipping your house”, “buying low and selling high”, only it involves land titles.

    Again, I know TPTB will burn in hell for trying to swindle the RIGHTFUL owners of this planet. Do not cross me you morons! I’m not talking about mentality, I’m talking about connections regarding the word association with a bunch of religious folks who know how to work the deals with other `interested entities`, who are psychopathic `murderers` of everything living – animals, plants, minerals and people, too.

  • Crossing Hairs

    Cross-hairs are used in scopes of snipers. The scopes are mounted atop their chosen fire arm. The snipers take aim at their intended target and fire a death shot. Sometimes the deed is done for a price – money or life, in which the mind-controlled drone is made to `disappear` in an apparent suicide and such.

    A cross-hair is the vertical and horizontal crossings of two intersecting lines, which looks like a symbolic crucifix. The intersection of these two lines is the middle point in which lies the heart of the matter, the target. The target, for example, is anyone who follows the heart, just like what the crucified one did long ago.

    In the past few days, I’ve been trying to figure out the deeper meaning behind the cross-hairs. During my past few days of pooping and reading my favorite book, it makes sense. The vertical measurement of one’s blessings from above and below equates to one’s ability to `spread out` said blessings and through the heart, of course.

    In other words, people are their own gods. The prayers are forms of meditation and guidance to do the right things in life. The answers come from within –  to act now while you still can and not to hesitate for a moment. The heart will usually the lead the way, of course. Only the person would know if they would be willing to be crucified for spreading the truth or living a life of lies and illusions.

    So that’s my weblog – eat it and weep or spit it out and laugh. I know about TPTB: It’s up to you smart brains to figure out what I mean.

  • Dangling Carrot

    I love carrots prepared either raw (as crunchy snacks) or cooked (as soft food). The taste is sweet. The color is orange. However, I hate carrots dangling in front of my face, though. It’s tough and hard to reach. It makes me angry, too.

    Everyday, I have been whacking the fat bastard over the head with my imaginary broomstick. He is supposed to call me this month. So far there is nothing but silence. He’s been doing that tactic to everyone else, by the way – dangling the carrot in front of their faces. I guess people like me do NOT get it by now.

    Now, I use my imaginary carrot stick to whack him over the head – everyday. Other devices are too mean to mention here. He knows it. He feels it. It’s a sad fate for him to sell out his soul that way. Perhaps, that will be his repayment instead. It’s a karmic cycle of debt, really. One person pays and repays over and over again.

  • Cake Party

    So at 4:15pm, we had cake for the old fart. It may turn out that I’m a few months older than the coughing snake, who may be from Batangas, just like Paw. The cake looks nice on the outside – a couple of bright pink roses and two kissing goldfish. But the ice cream cake of vanilla in between the DRY coffee cake on the top layer and the white cake on the bottom layer was not good at all. Yuch!

    But the hospitality was good and so was the tall guy. The boss handed us a glass of juice, which I didn’t want because of too much sugar. I could sense that the tall guy is a nice dog. He knows my Filipino language. Right there is a plus in my book, considering his old age and two teenage daughters. I wonder WTF is up with the wife, though.

    I happen to pick up nice, stray dogs. Don’t ask me why! Some dogs from my past are buck ugly and they are nice, too. If these dogs are GORGEOUS, WEALTHY and INTELLIGENT, damn – I want them, too. It doesn’t matter if they got kids or cooties, just as long as they are NICE!

  • Faster Stats

    A few minutes ago, I noticed that the blog stats to my weblog site has taken a new appearance via `https://[username here].wordpress.com/wp-admin/index.php?page=stats`. The bottom of the graph is filled in with blue color. Now I could see the `waves` or `health lines` of my weblog. The WordPress.com logo has vertical lines `churning` clockwise. Plus, the stats load much faster, except the months section.

  • Holding Hands

    Yesterday afternoon and while sitting at my desk at work, I laid my thoughts down to rest by a pool of water. The scene was rather calm and almost murky brown, if not yellow. The grass was short. I see no trees. I only saw myself lying on my right side and reaching my hands into the water of deep, murky blue.

    A hand reaches from the depth below and touches mine. I could feel his hand but for a moment.

    “I’m tired, too.” I said to him as he disappeared beneath the darkest. “If only I could be with you, I’d walk by your side through this thin veil that separates us both. I saw us walking together somewhere but for a little while until someone else had to take me away.

    I imagined running back to the edge of this pool of water and realized the was the fate that we could never be together. I had to leave him there because his element was watery and mine was above and on the earth.

    I closed my eyes later on that evening while saying the rosary with the twosome and a tear or two had to be shed silently again. Maybe one day we shall meet again.