*written last night when rain barged in

on my emotions.

As my fingers race through the keyboard keys,

there is a light drizzle outside.

I always find myself smiling when it rains,

or my heart breathing.

Perhaps it’s because,

rain is my metaphor for happiness.

As it washes the dry earth,

and fills the night with musk and warmth,

I can’t help but smile,

because rain makes me see,

that happiness can sometimes

be trivial

and easy.

*an open letter to Mr. Macho Man, who hurled that pillbox on that random Sunday afternoon, all in the name of brotherhood.

Dear Mr. Macho Man,

Pardon the heading, but I honestly don’t know how to address you — probably because I would like to think that I am collectively talking to your kind, or it might be because you have not really showed your face after you threw that hand grenade in last Sunday’s salubong in Taft, Manila.

Please let me understand one thing: Why did you have to throw that hand grenade on that crowded place with that mass of expectant family members and law students who were manning the bar ops?

Was it because you had an altercation with another fraternity member (or another Mr. Macho Man) and you wanted to exact revenge on that random afternoon?

Did you even think about what your actions might do to those who were there? To those who were drenched not just with beer amid the celebratory mood, but with euphoria as well?

If in case you did not know what happened after you hurled that grenade, either because you were too scared to look at the news after, or you were too self-absorbed with your little victory, here is what happened:

Helpless people got hit by the explosion, 42 to be exact, and one young girl by the name of Raissa Laurel even needed to have both her legs amputated just yesterday morning.

She was, like most people there, a law student who was cheering her contingent on — but unlike everyone else there, the hand grenade that you threw landed directly in front of her.

I don’t get it, so please help me understand.

Was that your way of reinforcing your being macho, and was that meant to affirm your masculinity?

If your answer to both questions is yes, then I commend you for successfully stoking your ego at the expense of that oblivious young girl who was unaware of your masculinity struggles and gender insecurities.

Why, if I may ask, do you need to have violence in order to get your message across?

This was always something that I have been meaning to ask any one of your kind: what really is the direct correlation between a man’s sense of sexual security with the amount of mayhem and havoc that he has to wreak  in his lifetime?

Is this the end all and be all of brotherhood? Because if it is, then obviously, I still need to know more about how brotherhood works, and what pakikisama entails.

I just hope that, wherever you are, you are gloating just as any victor would, because you have proven to the world that you are macho in every sense of the word.

That you are dominant, indeed.

That you are superior, truly.

And that you are masculine, without a doubt.

I really do hope you are man enough to stand up to that helpless young lady whose life you had so carelessly compromised;

that you are masculine enough to smell and inhale the pungent stench of blood mixed with gun powder at the aftermath of your phallus-stroking;

and that you are superior enough to follow the trail of blood that will lead you right straight to your cowardice.

I sincerely, sincerely do hope that you believe in karma — because you would definitely be needing all the balls in the world when the universe exacts its revenge on you.

All the best,

Clyde

Last weekend, I was swamped with so many activities that, although tiring, were all worth it in the end.

For all those who have not ready my previous posts yet, when I was in college, I was actually an active varsity debater — loosely translated, my entire college life was highlighted by my constant travels all over the country as I represented my school in prestigious regional, as well as national, debate tournaments.

I officially stopped becoming an active debater last 2008, and after that, grown up life consumed most of my time.

These past few weeks however, I tried to revive my debate life by adjudicating in weekly debate practices in my old university, and imparting some of the debate tips that I have managed to derive from my own debate experiences in the past.

Last Saturday specifically, I was part of an awesome team that organized a tournament for college debaters in Foundation University, one of the local universities here.

Yes, it was very stressful. We were there at 8 in the morning, and after 5 gruelling rounds of intense intellectual duels, the tournament commenced with the Semifinals at around 8 pm. But my friend described the experience well when she said that: yes, she felt tired, but it was the ‘accomplished tired’ kind of tired.

I agree one hundred percent.

The finals will be on October 8, so the prospect of adjudicating for the final round is personally exciting for me.

To know that we have started debate ripples in this university town is reassuring to the heart; and to finally see these new debaters progress from their initial exposure to debate will even be more fulfilling, methinks.

If only to make myself relevant these days and to make me not forget my heart’s inner passions, I plan to sustain these activities and, in the process, hopefully impart my own version of ‘Clyde goodness’ to the world.

Wish me luck.

Writearticlesgetpaid.com is not like any other pay-for-ghost writing article sites out there.

For starters, registration is purely based on invite, and being invited would require you to know someone who knows the site owner himself. Good thing for me, I have a friend who directly corresponds with the owner, and so I was given a shot at registration.

For my application, I had to submit four articles that were not related to each other, but all of them needed to be completed within just 45 minutes after being assigned. I remember writing about gift cards, reloadable store coupons, baby apparel, and men’s diaper bags.

After the assessment of all four articles, I received the go signal that I can already start the next day.

First, let me discuss the pros of writearticlesgetpaid.com:

The best thing about it is the fact that it never runs out of topics that you can write about. Although some of the topics that you have to write about are not everyday, basic subjects, such as the blood’s hematocrit, the Volkswagen Bora, or Halloween costumes — still, it is easy money because you just need to write about these diverse topics for so long as your article would reach 400 words.

Second, there is no limit for how many articles you can make in a day. Depending on your free time and how able your fingers are for prolonged periods of typing (and of course your brain for thinking), this website gives you the chance to accumulate more dollars with each article that you finish. If you are home-based and you want to optimize the opportunities vis-a-vis your established working periods, you can always plan to finish, say, four articles in the morning, four in the afternoon, and two in the evening. This way, you won’t get burned out easily, and you can still have time for your other activities.

Now, on the downside:

First and foremost, the pay is not as lucrative as the other sites that I have been to. All finished and approved articles are worth only one dollar each, with of course the 400-word minimum requirement. This means that if you stick with the 10 articles a day plan that I mentioned above as an example, your 4000 words a day will just translate to 10 dollars — including with it all the effort, data mining, and what-not that you have to undergo before the submission of each article. If you think that it’s worth it, then you can go ahead and give this site a try.

For another, since it’s a website that’s purely based on invites and the writer-to-publisher traffic is typically low in any given day, there is no web support that can help you troubleshoot your site concerns.

This is actually the reason why I stopped writing for them: because I experienced some technical glitches, and the system would not accept any article that I had finished. There was no site support that I was able to communicate with and no site maintenance tab for me to air my grievances.

So naturally, I was disheartened by this.

But — I thought back then, maybe this had to happen so I would be able to come across sites that paid more and had better deals. And true enough, I discovered after just two days that yes, this was the reason for why I had to leave writearticlesgetpaid.com.

Enter, the fourth and final website.

(to be continued…)

For today’s post, I initially thought of adding my 3rd installment of my cyber-employees review, but I decided instead to write about my most recent brush with fever — high fever mind you.

Since the Philippines is a tropical country and the rainy monsoons annually come rushing in, we regularly experience a spike in the incidence of dengue fever every year.

Dengue fever, which can be transmitted through a mosquito bite (yes, these little pesky things can lethally bite, too, grrr), is a recurring epidemic in the Philippines. This particular mosquito strain thrives in clean, uncontaminated stagnant water, and they are especially aggressive during late afternoons till early evenings.

I think it was over 13 years ago when I had my first brush with dengue. It was the worst fever that I had experienced, considering that I have spent the most part of my growing up years confined in a hospital because of my poor immune system in general and my constant susceptibility to communicable diseases in particular, and I had sworn off dengue after that.

Never again: I told myself after that painful ordeal.

Just last Saturday afternoon however, I sensed fever was underway because of my heavy and warm breathing, burning eyes, and muscle spasms. I shrugged it off. But when I retired for the night, I was literally shivering in my bed. Even when I was comfortably under my thick comforter and I had two shirts on,  I was literally gritting my teeth because the slightest contact of coldness in my skin seemed to drill its way into my very bones. I had high fever.

Sunday came and went, and it was still the same thing. My lips were cracking from heat, and my head constantly ached from constant throbbing and pounding. I felt scared — because those annoying buzzing mosquitoes were all I could think of as culprits.

So naturally, I went to the hospital, had my blood checked, and was very anxious the whole time. I was literally telling myself to snap out of fever, because another bout with dengue would be too much for me. I was much pleased, however, when I saw the results, because I was within the normal platelet range.

Whew.

I realized then that I could not afford to get sick — primarily because I missed out on so many things on those days that I was just tucked beneath layers upon layers of blankets, with only my thoughts and bad dreams to keep me company. I missed out on work, I was not able to fully taste food (because them taste buds made everything taste like carton), and I was not getting restful sleep.

And now that I’m alive, alert, awake, and enthusiastic, I can’t be any happier. I really need to take care of my health more by eating green leafy vegetables (okay, I did not just say leafy), lessening my alcohol intake (which will positively impact other aspects of my life as well), and getting more sleep at night (Am I really conceding to old age here?).

Here’s to better health and lesser mosquito bites from those pesky little dengue-carriers. Cheers.

The inner Gleek in me was stirred today. Be forewarned.

Anyway, just for personal disclosure: I am actually addicted to GLEE. And having to witness its first episode for season two with Charice in it will make this addiction worse. It’s the fatal combination really that will make me stop working. For good? For good, it seems.

Sorry for the unqualified euphoria — but for all those who do not watch GLEE, it is this awesome TV Show that revolves around the drama of McKinnley High School’s Glee Club, including the desperation of wannabe-cool people, love issues (DUH), and power tripping from esoteric school characters. Given this potent mix for mayhem, plus the suddent bursts of musical numbers, GLEE is the perfect formula for epicness that’s beyond comparison.

Charice plays an exchange student in season two, and to summarize her role in the first episode in a nutshell, it goes like this:

Lead actor Lea Michele sings with her gang in public to invite people to join the club. She spots Charice smiling at her. She smiles back. Fast forward the next day: She posts flyers for Glee auditions in the CR. Charice is inside. Inconspicuous. Just minding her own business. And looking in the mirror. Lea Michele talks to her. And invites her to be part of her singing entourage. Because she is supposed to be Glee queen. Charice says yes, and then smiles. Lea continues posting flyers after that. Charice nonchalantly sings ‘Telephone’. Presumably because that was the song playing in her iPod. Lea Michele hears her sing. She smells a rival. So she sings back. Charice sings with her. They sing together. Competition rises. Then Cheerios Coach Sue Sylvester comes up from nowhere. And then tells them to shut up.

That, in a nutshell, describes her first singing performance in Glee.

When I saw that part, I couldn’t qualify what my feelings were. Of course, it can’t be helped that I have my biases. Which is understandable. But when she belted out ‘Listen’ when she auditioned for Glee Club, I felt proud all of a sudden — not just of my race, but with my nationality specifically.

Not that I am not proud to be Filipino by default, or that I need Charice to make me appreciate the Philippines more — but it’s just that with so many negative headlines hogging most dailies about my country so far, this gem sparkled brightly amid the gloom of it all.

And sparkle it exceptionally did.

It’s a good day.

Freelancer.com is pretty much similar with oDesk in terms of the writing opportunities, as well as the compensation — the only difference is that it has simpler pages, and its website is not like oDesk’s complicated jungle maze.

However, I would have to tell you that there is really not much that I can share about it because after I made my application to around 20 different employers (yes, they offer more bids than oDesk.com), only one responded back.

But before I share the terms of that writing opportunity (head’s up: lambasting it), what I specifically liked about freelancer.com is that it has a grading scheme whereby employers can rate their employees after a project, and vice versa. Meaning, this in itself should guarantee that employers do not slavedrive their writers, and the writers do not ask for unrealistic compensation.

Much to my surprise however, THIS did not minimize the propensity for employer abuses — because the only employer who corresponded back with me was, simply put, exploitation personified. This was particularly mind-boggling because she has been rated by around a hundred writers, and she had an average approval rating of 5 stars out of five.

Here’s what happened:

First, she made me write a sample article. I passed, naturally. She then set the terms of the deal. First, I will write for her everyday, and we will be corresponding through Gmail Chat. I did not ask out the rest of the details because in her ad, she said that she would need her prospective writers to write 500-word articles.

So there I was, happily expecting to work for her, when out of the blue, she dropped the bomb.

First, she asked me: “How many articles can you write for me?”

I said, “How many words?”

She responded back, ” 300 or 500.”

I thought hard, and then said, “I can do 3 300-word articles in a day.” (But I was hesitant of course because that was too much for someone who was just feeling the waters of internet ghost writing).

Then she retorted, “Too small. I need 5 500 articles per day. Work is piling up.”

I thought, “Hold on, old lady. Even when I am just starting out, I can smell the stench of a sweatshop when I see one.”

I did not reply back. Nada. Zilch. Communication was severed.

And the worst part was, she only offered $50 for it all. No one, I believe, in his right frame of mind, will agree to such rotten terms.

Which is why after two days, I emailed her back, and told her, albeit politely, that I cannot realistically work for her. I explained that this work bulk was doable, but not only will I inevitably come up with bad articles, but more than that, I would be miserable for the next 30 days. Again, these were all said politely.

That was such a bad experience for me — which is why I left my freelancer.com account to die several days after that. The next day though, my friend asked me if I wanted to write for a website that he knows about. It was purely based on invite, the work was guaranteed everyday, and your earnings will depend on how many articles you get to finish everyday.

There was no pressure for an article quota, and so I thought: “This might finally be the website that I am looking for.”

Enter www.writearticlesgetpaid.com

(to be continued…)

Dear Clyde,

How are you? I know that things are not so rosy in your life right now, but always remember that you have vowed to personify Desiderata in your life — so take everything in stride, ride with the wind, and always take care of your heart.

I have been meaning to write you a letter, if only to remind you (yet again) that you need to temper your over-indulgent exploits and lessen your propensity for hurting other people’s hearts.

Do not be afraid if you feel that the daredevil in you is silently spiriting away — youth, after all, commences.

And when it does, do not be afraid, because the universe will realign for you, for it progresses with your progression. So stop wasting your time fretting and worrying. It will do you no good.

Clyde, you are not getting any younger, and no matter how much the world seems to create the impression that you do not belong here, you know deep in your heart that you do.

So embrace the trappings of the world: be pleasant with all people, rekindle long lost friendships, and smile when your heart needs to breathe.

Yes, breathing seems to be a luxury these days. With the world filled with so much clutter, noise, and garbage, a breather from it all will surely do wonders for you.

Listen to a good song and reconnect with your affinity to movies that warm your heart and pick your brain. Notice the melody in the pitter-patter of rain, inhale the earthy musk of newly-drenched soil, and smell the enthralling beauty of red sunsets.

These passions, I believe, will never be extinguished — you just need to make sure that you take the time to revisit them, because this is what feeds your soul.

More importantly, always remember what you are: to yourself and to people who matter to you.

Know, most especially, that your family is always your shield when the world you try to create starts to crumble down. In a sea of strangers, and in the turbulent tide of life and living, they are what keeps you afloat at all times.

Affirm them everyday. Make them feel the genuinity of your gestures, never give them false expectations, and always be a reason for their happiness. You have to make always a possibility.

Your friends, particularly, are your strength when your heart has had too much of the world’s vicissitudes. They can provide the electric impulses in the right part of your heart when your emotions get intense, and your heart’s congenital condition cannot fathom the depth and breadth of sadness.

And most importantly, be comforted by your knowledge that whether it is clear to you or not, the universe is unfolding as it should.

You might not comprehend the immediacy of grief nor the inevitability of mourning, but the universe is slowly but silently preparing you for your eventual emancipation.

Love yourself more.

Sincerely yours,

Clyde

I write this as my head throbs from a bad hangover.

Last night, I met up with my old roommates from college, Neil and Deneb, and because this was our first actual reunion after seven long years, what ensued was an epic night that was, well, epic.

The reminiscing was there, of course.

The inside banter, too.

The anecdotes. Oh God, the anecdotes.

A personal disclosure though: I forgot what happened after 12 midnight, because I was happily chugging down bottles of beer with them. Last night made me miss college, and the simplicity of my life back then — when happiness was just two packs of Lucky Me pancit canton and Skyflakes, and sadness was just failing grades (or not even).

Now, for my good deed for the day: I was reading my Gracian book again, and a powerful maxim caught my heart.

It reads:

“Make use of your enemies

because they are often honest mirrors

that reflect what you do not see with yourself.”

This made me smile.

I found this particularly truthful because come to think of it, flattery from friends will not get you anywhere — whereas a criticism from an enemy is usually an honest remark from someone who is not constrained by mutual friendship nor social pleasantries.

While it may be true that what other people say about us ultimately do not matter, it would still be helpful to know what our enemies think and say about us. Their observations, after all, may be valid — and once we hear them verbalize their thoughts, we can either be mad about it, or deal with it constructively.

I know this may sound so random — but randomness is beautiful sometimes. Especially when one tries to escape from the clutches of a bad, bad hangover.

When I was on an internet hiatus for three long days, I realized so many things about the internet, and how inextricably linked it has become to our lives. I used to think that the internet was just a useless appendage that people can live without — but after exhibiting withdrawal symptoms from my virtual exclusion from my cyber habitat, I have come to the conclusion that cyberdisconnect can also be a major pain in the arse.

For one thing, I have been counting on the internet to replenish my fast dwindling moolah (read:broke). Because one month ago I was an internet rookie (read:naive) and I devoured all writing opportunities that afforded me a few dollars, I think I may have been intellectually abused. For the record, I have only tried working for four websites, and here is my honest assessment of each of them:

First, is oDesk.com.

At first, I was so excited to finally be working for a cyber employer where all I would need is appropriate linking verbs, a logical sense that plural words require an s after them, and a few creative tricks up my sleeve. I signed up for it, populated my about me information, and then browsed for potential clients.

But before that, let me just say that understanding the tabs, columns, rows, and clickable icons in there was a nightmare — I honestly thought it resembled a complicated medical form that was filled out by someone with a complicated rare disease that only affects none out of 10 ten people. IT WAS THAT BAD. All these quizzes had to be taken in order to gauge not just your knowledge of their complicated website, but also to test your English if it is writer-material or not.

I applied to around 10 employers (ten was the limit for new users); all to no avail. I was crushed, heartbroken, and devastated (a sample of my knowledge in synonyms, which could’ve come in handy when one of these people at least gave me a chance). I was about to give up, when this pleasant young lady from the US emailed me and asked me to submit a trial article for her. I wrote something about a website that sold custom-made peace t-shirts.

I passed just three hours after my article submission, and so a contract was entered into by both me and Regina, my employer. My new contract (and only contract, mind you) required me to submit a 400 to 600-word article per day, or two articles (if the need arises) for 30 days. The subjects covered a wide range of topics — from car insurance to Halloween costumes, to getting a nursing degree online.

It only took me three weeks to realize though that this contract was ill-suited for me. Here’s why:

First, the amount of effort that one places into it is not commensurably compensated by the payment. A 600-word article is not as easy as it may seem, and having to skim through countless internet pages just to have that glorious article on how to dress up your kid like Freddy Krueger for Halloween isn’t worth all the effort and time. I mean I have a fair idea that ghost writing entails much and you don’t have a say on your topics, but please, compensation is the only consolation to all these mindless writeups.

Second, there was no clear structure for when a job demand was in the offing. For this, I can’t say that I fault my employer entirely — because she pretty much distributed job orders when the demands from her clients piled up. It’s just that the system needed more fine-tuning; and if a clearer and more reliable system is put in place, then I think I would gladly give it another chance. (But I really wouldn’t because of the bad, bad pay.)

Third, the payment was done by bulk — meaning, no article was compensated for until the 30-day contract specifications were met. Which means that sadly for me, I was not able to receive payment for the 15 articles or so that I made. Just sad. But because I always choose to look at the brighter side of things, I am still thankful because it made me aware that employer abuses are things to look out for for one who seeks internet employment. At least, I thought when my contract died, I know what to expect from future internet writing jobs. Just as well, because these employer excesses became much more pronounced when I landed my second writing stint.

Enter, freelancer.com.

(to be continued…)