Wet Words

Yesterday I took apart my office keyboard for some much-needed cleaning.

I own a very old keyboard. It was the same one assigned to me when I first started working in my company over five years ago. Although I've changed PCs twice in those last five years, the keyboard has always come with me (as has the mouse and the CD-ROM drive, but this story wouldn't be as interesting with them). For all I know, it could even have been a used keyboard, which would imply that it could have had a succession of owners even before my arrival.

Why clean the keyboard? I just noticed that it was starting to look old and ratty at first glance. That, and I've been under a great deal of stress at work lately. An easy, non-thought-oriented menial task was quite welcome under the current circumstances.

I started off by borrowing a philips screwdriver from the Technical Maintenance department, which was pretty much all the hardware I needed for the task. ("What do you need the screwdriver for, Sean?" "Oh, nothing... I just wanted to see if it could fit up my nose, that's all.") From there, it took me only a few minutes to shut down my PC, disconnect the keyboard, and remove the twelve screws holding its casing together.

If you haven't seen the insides of a keyboard, I can tell you that it's a pretty mundane sight. Your basic keys are attached to the top half of the casing, and are set so that every keypress will exert pressure on one specific area of a thin rubber mat. Beneath this rubber mat is a sensor plate that detects where you punched your key, and transmits that information to the PC for digital translation. (What this means is that, if you're using a Qwerty-type keyboard, you can rearrange the keys however you want and still type according to the Qwerty configuration. But you probably knew that already, didn't you?)

While the mat and the sensor plate both looked fine, I was overly concerned with the top part of the casing where the keys were located. Years of putting up with my work habits had trapped any number of foreign materials between the keys and the case; By the time I finished removing all the buttons with a blunt plastic instrument, I could see the accumulation of dust, dirt, grime, hair, dandruff and bread-bits staring right back at me. For that matter, I suspected that a few more years would have molded the combination into a new form of earthly life.

It took me the better part of an hour -- and half a roll of tissue paper -- to get the casing clean. Even then, it had a burnt and smudged look where the grime simply refused to come off with a single dry wipe, and in some places the hair and dirt had already matted into solitary protozoan cells. I had to run the entire thing under a bathroom faucet and give it another wipedown just to give it the mere illusion of cleanliness.

The keys were another matter altogether. After I pried all of them loose, I dropped the entire mass of disembodied words into a Tupperware container for temporary storage. Remembering what happened with the main casing, however, I ended up filling the container with water a few times for a quick rinse, then taking out and wiping the soggy letters one by one. It felt strange , spending the better part of an hour cleaning one key at a time.

Of course, I knew better than to stack a bunch of wet materials onto a bunch of electronic components, so I stationed all of the above items in front of an industrial-sized electric fan and waited for them to dry.

After that, it was all a matter of putting everything back together again. I mulled over the possibility of giving myself a Dvorak configuration instead of the previous Qwerty-type setup, but I eventually decided that the size of my current workload discouraged it.

So now I have a clean keyboard. How does it feel, you ask?

Well, strangely enough, it feels a little sticky. It works just fine, but the keys seem a little, er, "slower" than normal. I don't know if it's because I did something wrong when I screwed the case back together again, or if it's simply because I'm not used to a clean keyboard. If you're the type of person who enjoys seeing it that way, I could be writing this entry merely because I want to reassure myself with these relatively pristine keys.

It's probably all good in the end, though. Even if I don't get used to this, I suppose that I can always just ask for a new keyboard. :)


* Sean in no way condones the wanton dissection of keyboards, even if they've committed heinous crimes beyond human ken. If you're planning to pry apart your keyboard to clean its insides, fix a problem with the sensor plate, or look for buried treasure, then be my guest. Just don't forget that I won't take any responsibility for when it ups and dies on you like a good electronic component does.

Sedition

Why talk politics, then?

Astute observers will have noticed that I hardly post any talk of politics, activism or current events on this blog. It's not remarkable, mind you -- there are plenty of blogs that don't engage in analytical discussion like that. What should make us wonder, I think, are the reasons behind such direction.

We can't help talking about current events. Human opinion is almost a reflex action in this regard -- we involuntarily generate opinion on any distinct (historical) events once the initial shock rubs off. Give us news of an event, and we will inevitably consider the who, what, where, when and why it happened.

From there, it becomes a question of the outlets we use. Some of us sit back at the table, a bottle of beer in hand, and proceed to tell our partners exactly what we think of current events. Some of us take to the streets in the perception that we're screaming our displeasure for the sake of the majority. And some of us -- those with blogs, I mean -- write our stuff down for perusal by an online audience.

So why talk politics, then?

I would say that recent events in the Philippines have inspired plenty of reaction, if only for the fact that that would be an obvious understatement. We've had a stampede that somehow became representative of the poverty situation in the country, a martial-law-esque proclamation that further eroded confidence in the President, a failed coup attempt that would have resulted in a glorified military junta, and a persecution of libelous elements that looks supiciously like media-muzzling.

In short, there's been plenty to opine about in the last few months. Any blogger worth his or her salt would have had their statements up in a heartbeat, I think. For that matter, there have been more than a few authors who have made points salient enough to beat what the newspaper columnists are putting together. Blogging gives us a voice, and it's good to see that people are using it as an outlet for their beliefs.

The involvement of blog-based opinion may also be important when we consider the last of the above four issues. I'm not sure how the Philippine government words or numbers its proclamations, mind you, but any moves on their part to rein in the media certainly do not bode well for the public at large. In a worst-case scenario -- that of a complete state suppression -- blogging may very well end up as one of our few outlets for free speech.

That still doesn't answer the question, though. Why talk politics?

There are already plenty of people out there who post political, social and cultural opinions online. Some of them break off from any combination of recurring topics to write these statements; Others devote entire sites to them. Whatever the case, there are plenty of these writers out there.

The issue I have, therefore, is that there may altogether be too many of them. Everyone has an opinion; For that matter, anyone can come up with an opinion at the mere drop of a hat. We may very well be prepared to read the reactions of one man on yesterday's news headlines, but show us seventy-three other blogs that do exactly the same thing and we'll probably get bored trying to read them all.

In a sense, once you think about it, a monotony of public opinion may be every bit as dangerous as a suppression of the primary outlets of media.

And, of course, that would still beg the question: Why talk politics?

This blog is perfectly capable of expressing the political opinions of its author. It's perfectly capable of expressing anyone's political opinions, for that matter. It's one of the many outlets available to us, although it's unique in that it's one of the few outlets that gives us access to an online crowd of readers.

As an outlet that is less guarded and regulated than the more popular media bases out there, this blog has an interesting place in the current situation. It can easily continue the practices of free speech without the immediate reprisal or wanton bias that threatens or dominates the newspapers and television networks. Its author can say what he wants, and there will most certainly be no shortage of things to talk about.

As one blog among thousands and thousands of others, however, it must be acknowledged that the words here are but one voice in a massive multitude. And although the multitude accomplishes great things, it also tends to compromise the uniqueness of personality. We can express our opinion all we want, but such expression can all too easily be lost in the great depths of chatter out there. It would be just as bad as remaining silent.

So why talk politics?

Why do people find a voice in their online writing? Why do some of them perform their political analyses there? Why don't I publish anything significant about similar matters?

Your guess, I think, is as good as mine.

Killer Graphics

"I'll put you in [room] number one... ... ...because ONE stands for MURDER! Hwahahahah!"

- Zorak, The Brak Show

If there was anything I sensed about the Murder by Design conference last Saturday, it was the fact that the venue needed a bit of air-conditioning. The stamp that they placed on my right arm to certify my entrance easily started to melt from the moment I entered. I find it strange, for that matter, that they would hold the conference in an unbusinesslike establishment, but I'll chalk that up to a designer "thing".

Murder by Design was actually a workday for me -- the company was paying for my time there, and I whiled away the hours with a couple of staff members who had similar duties. All three of us expected to gain some insight into the nature of the graphic design business, and I don't think we were disappointed by the proceedings.

With all that said, however, I eventually came to a startling conclusion after watching three or four speakers come up on stage and do their little verbal dances. It was a conclusion borne from various other seminars and conferences, and it was a conclusion borne from even the iBlog summit held last year. That conclusion was a simple one: You can be as skilled as you please, but that doesn't necessarily mean that you'll be able to speak well in front of an audience.

It's true, ladies and gentlemen. Oratory is quite a different animal, as compared to literary writing, graphic design, and all those other endeavors we've come to know and love. I find it funny, in a way, that the schools and universities have probably known this for decades now, and yet most of us don't seem to have realized the fact.

But then again, I'm not complaining. After all, Oratory is hardly a pursuable art nowadays. It's difficult to practice, especially considering that the average person doesn't see many invitations to speak in front of a live audience. For that matter, it's usually only field-based professionals who are invited to speak in this fashion, and even then we probably shouldn't expect a good show. I imagine that being good at graphic design, software development or blogging doesn't leave one with much time to practice speeches in front of a mirror.

Despite all these assumptions, however, one has to wonder about Dean Alfar.

I've seen Dean Alfar speak twice so far. The first was at the iBlog summit, where he easily blew away an audience that was prepared to hear about creativity in blogging (and consequently got it in spades). The second was at last Saturday's conference, where he was able to grab the attention of a tough crowd and somehow managed to toss them a few tips on starting and running a design business. He seems to consistently do very well at this speakership thing, and I wonder how he does it.

I know that he's gotten up and spoken to audiences before, but I'm not sure if it's to a level where he's become adept at it. I know that he's a consistent writer, but there's always the question of whether or not writing has anything to do with oratory in the first place.

Maybe it has something to do with the way his mind works. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that he seems confident enough to do what he does. Maybe he's just been lucky so far, and that he'll crash and burn somewhere in his next outing. (Or maybe not.)

Whatever the case, he bears watching. As with any person who seems to do something well, it's probably worth observing him to see just how he does it.

I spent most of the conference in a state of bewilderment, to be honest. A good chunk of the lectures seemed to involve a bunch of professional designers going up on stage and explaining their portfolios. They would hook up their laptops to the projector and open up a bunch of demo files, for example, essentially explaining how and why they came up with certain designs for certain clients. While these were enlightening, they brought to mind the question of what most of the designers in the audience were supposed to learn from them.

But then again, good design isn't something that you can learn from a single conference. Good design, like writing and oratory and many other things, is something that you learn from experience. That may have been the point of the entire conference, I think. Heck, if anything, that may be the point of any conference:

"We're giving you a bunch of speakers who probably aren't all that good at speaking. But they're professionals in their chosen fields, and they've been around. You have to realize that they've gone through a lot to get where they are right now, and they're going to share some of these lessons and experiences with you, so that you'll know what to expect."

It's priceless in every sense of the word, now that I think about it. Talks, round-table discussion groups, and even TV dialogues probably work under the same realization.

I unfortunately had to leave the conference early because I needed to return the family car, so I missed out on the latter proceedings as well as the ever-present raffle. It was fine, though... they were generous enough to give their attendees a fair share of giveaways in any case.

By this time, however, the stamp was nothing more than a half-congealed mess that needed a good amount of rubbing alcohol to remove. I figured, however, that if it left any vague marks on my right arm, I could always claim that it was the hallmark of a rare disease that was turning my skin blue.

Yes, no one would probably believe me. But then again, I do have a propensity for telling tall tales, and both the confidence and experience to back them up. At least I have that much to go on...

Help Wanted (Part 1)

It's been almost a month since my reflections on HR interviews, and I've gone through a few more since then. My company's in the process of padding out a few more staff issues, and it looks like we'll be all set come April. That might be bad news to more than a few of the new graduates, seeing that a lot of them usually only start applying for jobs after the graduation ceremonies.

Going through my archives the other day, I found that I had previously drafted a blog article concerning tips for job-seekers. These, of course, weren't your ordinary, run-of-the-mill job application guidelines. Instead, these were lessons gleaned from years of watching applicants stumble, misspeak, misspell, turn off, break down or otherwise screw up their chances of corporate hiring. While that might sound overly negative of me, I can assure you what I don't make fun of these mistakes as often as I bewail the frustration that comes about when I first encounter them.

I'm not a Human Resources person, mind you, and I have little experience in HR matters that involve more than personally interviewing job applicants. While that might seem like a disadvantage at first glance, I've come to see it as more of a qualification in this case. To me, the mistakes seem more obvious, the subtleties seem greatly magnified, and the lessons seem all too easily forgotten once you sit down for your first interview. For some reason, most people seem to be able to either write a good resumé or conduct a good one-on-one chat, but not both.

There's still plenty about the Human Resources aspect that escapes me, but I like to think that I have enough hands-on experience in the matter to be able to identify particular trouble spots for people. At worst, then, I'd just be another source of possible advice.

Onward, then, to some of the less obvious aspects of job application:

1. Do NOT mention proficiency in a language unless you know how to use it.
You may think that this is obvious, but I still run into a problem case every now and then. Either an applicant professes an expert command of the language in an error-riddled resumé, or they submit a well-edited personal profile and proceed to fail miserably at the interview. The worst case I ever encountered involved a cover letter with the most atrocious grammar I had ever read, submitted by a young man who gave himself a "10 out of 10" in English skills.

The truly abominable part about experiences like these lies in the fact that I'm a writer. While my English is probably still leagues away from the practices of the true linguistic scholars, I still hold deep resentment for anyone who mangles the language and claims that they're using it right. Geez Louise.

2. Every HR person in the world probably knows that if an applicant mentions that he or she has "basic" knowledge in something, then he or she knows next to nothing about it.
This is true, yes. "Basic" knowledge in a skill, as far as we know, might as well be the same as having no experience with it at all. To be quite frank, most people only list down their "basic" skills in their resumés in order to pad things out.

Don't get me wrong, though. While there's nothing unethical about padding out one's resumé, there's a good chance that any skill level you list as "basic" will be quickly shunted off to the side and ignored. If you have relatively significant knowledge or experience with a certain item, then make sure that you don't simply write yourself as having a "basic level of skill" with it. In fact, it's probably best that you cite your previous experiences or learning programs there -- anything that would make it substantial enough for interviewers to take notice.

3. No religion, please, unless it's relevant to the position or the company.
Yes, you're a religious person. Yes, you have "God-fearing" clearly spelled out on your resumé. Yes, you're an active member of your church organization. But if none of that has anything to do with the job you're applying for, then why bother putting that down on paper? I mean, it's not as though people will hire you for your religious beliefs.

Some people will probably argue that a mention of their faith would act as a testament to their devoutness or dedication, when in reality it doesn't do much. Words on paper are sometimes just words on paper. Dedication is measured by practice and noted by observation, for the most part. You don't claim steadfastness, you demonstrate it.

What irks me the most in this regard is that some applicants tend to sing praises to the divine regarding their considerable skills and technical advantages. The business world, however, is an extremely realist setting. A company won't care if your talents are God-given or if you just happened to make a deal with the devil. If you can do the job, then you can do the job. End of story.

4. Do NOT apply for a position that you have absolutely no business applying for.
Every company has some darn good reasons for listing the qualifications for an open position. Sometimes they want an applicant to hit the ground running, so to speak -- they want the new employee to start immediately on some overdue project or service. Sometimes the job in question has certain requirements for the sake of safety or quality (you don't hire an auto mechanic to perform gastrointestinal surgery, for example, and vice-versa). Sometimes the job will have certain prerequisites that are only found in applicants of a specific background.

Whatever the case, the job requirements are there for a reason. Do not apply to be a programmer if you don't know how to program. Do not expect a small company to pay your relocation costs if you're applying to them from another country. Do not send your resumé to a "women-only" ad if you happen to be male with no plans of a sex-change operation. Doing so would simply be a waste of paper for you.

5. The phrase "willing to be trained" has little or no meaning whatsoever.
I see this phrase a lot, and I never understand why people put it in their personal profiles. Isn't this supposed to be a given, after all? I mean, as long as you're applying for a job, aren't you silently agreeing to the fact that you will learn new skills and gain new experiences during your period of employment?

You can say that you're "willing to be trained" all you want, I figure, but the fact of the matter is that every single applicant is willing to be trained. Ironically, mentioning the phrase doesn't let you stand out from the rest of the pack -- instead, it makes you blend in even more. And if by some chance you don't want to be trained at all... then why are you applying for the job in the first place?

6. Do NOT create a resumé that deviates from the accepted norm.
One of the funny things about most designers is that they're very creative. Really creative, I mean. In fact, sometimes they're so creative that you just have to wonder what they're thinking.

I've seen cover letters enclosed in pink folders and decorated with pastel-and-pencil artwork. I've seen job applications laminated and sealed inside confidential envelopes. I've seen resumés printed on construction paper, collated in hemp binding, and sprinkled in scads of clip art. I've seen all three, yes, and frankly, I'm all too tired of seeing them crop up.

The problems with such "expressions of creativity" are twofold: First, they're difficult to place on file. For that matter, if we can't file them properly, then we simply won't... if you know what I mean. Creative execution be damned.

Second, such artistic works may indicate an attitude that does more harm than good. If a company is looking for a graphic designer, they're most likely looking for someone who can fire off good design work within a reasonable project deadline. In that case, a souped-up resumé that implies a certain level of obsessive-compulsiveness may not be the best thing to hand in...

...

These items are by no means the only guidelines I have to discuss. In fact, these considerations barely even scratch the surface. There are plenty of things that one can do wrong when it comes to looking for a job. I've seen too many of them done, and in some cases, I've even done them myself.

If you're looking for a further breakdown of things to avoid when you're applying for a job, I'll be posting a second part to this article. Human Resources, as with many other endeavors, isn't an exact science... but we can always map things out as we come to them.

Come to think of it, I actually have at least two more applicants to test and interview over the next two days. Hopefully they won't come up with any new problems. My instincts, after all, have had enough trouble detailing the ones you read here now.

Kiss Me, I'm Catholic

For the Catholics, Lent started last Wednesday. That means that, apart from the strange ashen crosses that showed up on everyone's foreheads last week, I'm looking at a stunted diet for the next month-and-a-half.

If you're not familiar with the tradition, Lent represents the forty days that Jesus Christ spent wandering the desert after his baptism. During that time, he was subject to three temptations by the devil himself -- all of which he passed -- and consequently returned to the world of man in order to begin his ministry. Catholics commemorate this occasion (as they do with all significant events in the Bible) by abstaining from meat every Friday for forty days. Eventually everything comes to a grand end during the last week of Lent, during which Christ's death and resurrection are marked on the days of Good Friday and Easter Sunday, respectively.

If the above paragraph makes little or no sense to you, then feel free to blame me for the description. Darn it, Jim; I'm a writer, not a theologian.

What this means, as far as I'm concerned, is that I won't be seeing any chicken, pork, beef, or any sort of mystery meat every Friday till mid-April. Complicating matters is the fact that I don't happen to like seafood, and so therefore I'll be restricted to veganism once a week.

(Whatever happened to the word "vegetarian", anyway? Did it go out of use due to some imaginary negative connotation? That would be a funny thing, really, seeing that there's no obvious discernible difference between "veganism" and "vegetarianism". If you like vegetables, then you like vegetables. If you like vegetables enough to eat only vegetables, then you like vegetables enough to eat only vegetables.Nothing wrong there.)

Muddying the waters further is the fact that the Buddhists happen to be one of my favorite guilty pleasures in this regard. Devout monks of the Buddhist religion, you see, are similarly disallowed from eating meat. For that matter, they're not even allowed to consume fish. In a strange response to these restrictions, however, Buddhist kitchens are remarkably skilled at mashing bean and tofu paste into replicas of various meat dishes. These people, therefore, literally serve the equivalent of Spam without any meat at all. (There's still the question of whether or not there's any meat in Spam to begin with, but that's a topic for another time...)

So I'll be going meatless every Friday till Easter because of my Catholic followings, and I'll be going for the occasional serving of Buddhist meat-cum-vegetable creation instead. I can't help feeling that there's something wrong with that arrangement, somewhere.

What's probably even stranger is that I consider myself a non-practicing Catholic. I may be a Roman Catholic, yes, but you probably wouldn't guess it from my daily habits. I complain, I swear, and I philosophize. I wax poetic about both evolutionary theory and the notion of God as a human construct. I keep my prayer to a minimum because I invariably think of doing things myself. And in the most obvious aspect, I don't keep a regular Sunday habit that most Catholics do.

The way I see it, there are devout Catholics (mostly in the church gatherings, arguing about scandal and morals), activist Catholics (mostly in the street rallies and the mailing lists), and non-practicing Catholics; and the last category probably has my picture attached to it. So if there's anything strange about my current situation, it's the fact that I'm willingly skipping meat every Friday for the whole of Lent.

Why do I do this, anyway? I mean, it's not as though I'm going to redeem myself as a Catholic by refusing to eat meat for six weeks.

I suspect that it has something to do with my habit of self-mortification. I'm probably masochistic that way -- I constantly test myself with the strangest endeavors in order to determine if I'm... if I'm... ...well, I don't know, I guess. I obviously haven't made an ounce of sense here, so why start now?

Catholicism is strange by itself, really. We worship entities whose existence we have no way of physically proving, we engage in rituals whose meanings have all been lost in the time since they were first established, and we take our orders word-by-word from a book that has seen more printings and translations than we can count.

And we listen to those words, follow those practices, and search for those entities -- all in one vague attempt to claw our way back into meaning. We know that it all leads somewhere. The problem is that we don't know where it goes just yet.

As well-governed and established as tends to be, I won't be the first to think that general religion is just as screwed up as the rest of us, Catholicism notwithstanding. Which is why, in a sense, it fits us to a T.

So now I'm a meatless man. And I'm a Catholic, too. In fact, I'm not just any Catholic, but a non-practicing Catholic who just happens to practice one inconvenient religious tradition out of the many convenient ones. I'm a bundle of contradictions here.

But hey, no one ever said that religion was easy to understand. :)

Disclaimer: March 2006

You didn't think I was going to forget to write this, now did you?

We're coming off an interesting number of recent experiences, and stepping into what looks to be an equally interesting period of time. The deadlines for both the Draconic Anthology and the Fully Booked contest are now behind us, and the local writers find that it's the Palanca Awards we now have to worry about.

From a more workaday point of view, it's now March. That means that the start-of-year rush is dying down, the upcoming graduates are starting to check the want ads, and the local fast-food joints are starting to put up their Lenten offerings. We step from one field of experiences into another.

In short, there are still a lot of possible opportunities for the plagiarists to operate. The prospect of handing in a copied work to the Palancas or a forged resumé to a potential employer isn't too far off, after all. (You'll have to take my word here; it's not as though I haven't seen a forged resumé in six years of managerial efforts.)

I've given some thought to the idea that I may just be paranoid about this whole thing. I suppose that I must concede the truth of that statement -- the last thing I want to happen, after all, is for some undeserving writer to receive recognition for some piece of mimeographed work. But I still think that it's a legitimate cause for concern -- especially on the Internet -- and I'm afraid of the possibility that it might happen right at the moment when my guard is relaxed.

So I still write these monthly disclaimers (mostly for the lawyer-types who don't have the energy to read everything on this blog). It's a personal choice, really.

Everything written on this blog is the property of Sean, and is certified as truly original by the author himself. Everything here, in a sense, comes off the top of my head somehow, and I'll duly admit to having written every single entry regardless of whether it's good or bad. The only exceptions here are those items or references that are taken from other sources. These entries are clearly marked, and I try to place a reference to the actual source whenever possible.

I suppose that under some strange and twisted circumstances, somebody out there might decide to quote or reference one of my articles here. I have no quarrel with such people as long as they have enough decency to ask permission first. Who knows, for that matter? I might even be able to point out some better resources for them in such a case.

Otherwise, however, a direct attribution and link to the source in this blog will also do. I'd rather have the permission, though, because I don't like the possibility of being quoted out of context.

Violators, as far as I've determined, will be dealt with harshly. There is such a thing as Philippine Copyright Law, and even in cases where it doesn't seem as though it's clear enough to deal with certain situations, I can always fall back on International Copyright. Steal from me, and I will pursue you with litigation. The cost won't matter, really; I'll even go as far to say that it'll give me a bit more purpose in life.

Oh, and there's also the matter of physical threats. If you plagiarize anything on this blog, then you agree to give me the right to come after you with the sincere efforts of blunt force trauma without the possibility of your retribution. Granted, it'll only be a temporary right, but it'll at least make me feel better.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming. Have a nice day, everyone.

Status Check

It's one-thirty in the morning. I have a short story on the back burner that doesn't look as though it'll be finished anytime soon, and I have a contingency story on tap. If I don't manage to finish my main offering by tomorrow afternoon, I'll be submitting my contingency measure.

I think I've hit upon why I've had too many unsuccessful tries for this one: Pressure, plain and simple.

I've had a lot of miscues coming into the final days of the Fully Booked contest, but for some reason, I've only been able to write freely once I had the backup story prepared. Was I resting secure in the knowledge that I would have something to submit regardless of anything? Perhaps that was the case.

That would make a good lesson for the next contest, I suppose: Ready the contingency plan first. Seeing that the Palanca awards are accepting entries already, and knowing that I already have my story seeds for the 4th L5R Ficathon, I'll have ample opportunity to try this out. It feels strange having to work on a backup for a non-technical case study, but I suppose that writing is a pretty sensitive endeavor to begin with.

My head is spinning again, for that matter, and this is the first time it's happened to me without the benefit of strenuous physical activity. It's obvious that I've been writing for too many straight hours, so I'm going to take a breather now and head straight off to bed. (Thankfully, I can now afford to do this.)

It's funny, really, how you can be writing for over half your life and still have to figure out a number of lessons from the business. Then again, I suppose, it would be a pretty boring way of life if we didn't learn something from every task we tried to take on.

...Incoming!

I'll be on hiatus for a week or so, most likely. I don't think I came up with a particularly good entry for the Draconian Anthology last time, so I'm going to try to clear my mind a bit before I write something for the Fully Booked contest.

Yes, I'm aware that the deadline's a week away. That's why I'm sitting down, calmly pecking at the keyboard, and trying desperately not to panic.

What I most fear at this point is that I'll end up with a lemon again. And if that happens, then will that imply that my writing skills have become a lot more random as of late? Will it mean that I continually churn out average stories with the odd hidden gem every now and then? Will it mean that I still have a lot farther to reach when it comes to that penultimate goal, that scourge of hacks, that finality of fiction as a whole?

The more I think of it, the more I start to believe that it's not the money I'm after. I probably join contests because I want to reassure myself. I want to see if I can still swing that bat when the bottom of the ninth comes up and the bases are loaded. In a sense, it becomes a very, very personal thing.

So I'll be at the keyboard if you need me. Maybe I'll be online and maybe I won't, but at the moment, I just want to take down this beast of a deadline before my time runs out.

That's not to say that I don't have plans afterwards. I do have plans, yes, and in fact, they were stunted by the weeks of preparation for the contest itself.

If I don't write anything on any of the following topics within the next few months or so, please feel free to write up a comment and bother me:

- A list of mean-spirited tips for enthusiastic job-seekers. (Something that's more of a "Dos and Don'ts" than anything else.)

- A weekly feature article. (I'm taking suggestions for this one. Any ideas?)

- Antaria fiction. (Yeah, this one really suffered from the sudden spate of writing contests.)

- The Weirdest Job Hunt Stories You've Ever Heard. (It's graduation season, people. Head for the hills!)

...

Wish me luck, everyone. I've got a score of writing tasks coming...

One on One

Now, one of the things I like about my job is the fact that I get to interview applicants.

I work in a fairly small company with fairly complex job requirements, you see. In addition to that, I hold one of the more senior management positions (as far as five years would be considered "senior") and generally have an excellent idea as to how the business works. To top it off, I spent some of those last five years collating data from HR transcripts, analyzing online job-hunting systems, and critiquing various forms of composition -- all of which allow me to make good educated guesses based on tiny little details.

What that last sentence effectively means is that I can take one look at a resumé and produce a number of relatively accurate remarks about the applicant at hand. I'm not right all the time, mind you, but I've surprised a few people on occasion.

It actually feels strange whenever I do this. I try to go about life without any premeditated expectations floating around my head, but right before I meet and talk to an applicant, I just have to make a few guesses about his or her character and experiences. That way, when I finally perform the interview, the whole experience transforms into a game: Was I able to read this person correctly? Will the applicant's actual personality change anything? What's my batting average so far?

I like to think that I've done rather well for myself. If anything, it's at least improved my skills in resumé-writing. :)

One of our previous HR personnel once told me that I had a habit of asking "casual" questions during interviews. When I asked her what a "casual" question was, she explained that it was something that didn't seem to have anything to do with work -- a bolt out of the blue, you might call it. Not that she minded, however: She assumed that it was my way of putting the applicants at ease.

Not necessarily, I told her. One can infer quite a few things from the answer to a casual question, as long as we know well enough to listen.

The trouble, I think, is that applicants always mean to make themselves look good. While this is to be expected, it sometimes keeps interviewers from finding out the stuff they really need to know. And rest assured, there are inevitably times when such knowledge would mean the difference between picking the right person for the job, or getting stuck with a dud.

Let's take skills, for example. I've noticed that applicants who have had only the slightest bit of experience with a certain field will invariably pad their resumés with it. We're likely to write down "Basic knowledge in Japanese", for example, even if we've only attended a single Japanese-language class in our entire lives.

So I end up asking "casual" questions. If an applicant's resumé tells me that he has basic knowledge in Japanese, I'll probably find a way to fit in a quick "Konnichiwa. Watashi wa Sean desu. Douzo yoroshiku?" in the interview somewhere. It tends to get a sheepish smile in response.

One of the most common "casual" questions I ask is "Do you surf the web?", and the answer is almost always an affirmative. In a company that works extensively with Internet technologies and web solutions, this happens to be a lot more important than people think.

"Do you surf the web?", for example, uses the term "web". If an applicant doesn't know what the "web" is, mind you, then I already know that he has no business applying for an Internet-based business.

The question usually gets followed up with "How often do you surf?". This helps get an idea of how much exposure the applicant gets when it comes to the Internet. I've had people tell me that they only log on for about an hour each week to check their e-mail; but on the other end of the spectrum, I've interviewed hardcore junkies who sit at a terminal for six hours at a time. The more regular exposure an applicant has, the more adept she most likely is at our line of work. (With that said, the more exposure an applicant has, the greater the chance that they'll slack off in front of an unlimited DSL connection.)

And then there's "What site do you feel embodies good web design?" (i.e. "Pick a web site that you think is good, and explain why."), which, to be quite frank, is a very vague question. I've found it very useful, however, for revealing exactly what the applicant visits regularly. Most people, after all, tend to name the first good-looking site that comes to mind. (One person pointed out the Playboy web site with his answer, which immediately got me skeptical about his work habits.)

Don't get me wrong, though. I'm not an HR person, and at this rate, I'll never be one. I'm a business manager and a writer, however, and I find it easy to look into peoples' depths of character from my position. In fact, it's fun looking at things from a non-HR point of view; you get to personally identify the rationale behind a lot of rules that way.

So at this point, I'm slogging away in front of my computer, knowing full well that hiring season will most likely last from now until mid-May. I went through two applicants this morning, and I've got a couple more dropping by the office tomorrow. I continually promise myself not to intimidate them too much with my sullen demeanor, my scruffy countenance, and my "casual" questions.

In that sense, it's probably a good thing that you've read this post all the way to the end.

For all we know, the next applicant I interview could just be you. :)

Heads Up

Hmm... whatever happened to the Antaria stories, anyway? I'll have to write up the next installment sometime.

For now, however, I'll have to admit that they've fallen into the void that appears whenever I've got too much work on my hands. My entry for the Fully Booked contest might even be in there as well, although I'll be reaching for it again in the near future.

Ironically, the entire storyline for Antaria is already in my head at the moment. I just have to find the right time and place to write it down...

Lord of the Dance

Eight o'clock this evening found me at the Manila Polo Club, sleazing my way into a Capoiera lesson.

If you have no idea what Capoiera is, then don't worry -- I'm new to it myself. It's a Brazilian martial art, and I've long felt that it's very indicative of their culture. From a distance, you see, it looks a lot like dance. (It's the kind of dance where your partner can easily knock you senseless if he knows what he's doing, but it looks like very rhythmic dance nonetheless.)

I have a horrible track record when it comes to exercise. I needed twelve minutes to finish a one-mile run during my last full physical in college, I foundered my way through Tai Chi for six months (the instructor said that I moved like the scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz), and I hefted weights like Charles Atlas's 78-pound weakling for a little while last year. I'm all for exercise, mind you -- it's just that exercise doesn't seem to like me.

Capoeira seems to emphasize a constant state of motion and flexibility -- or at least, the regular practitioners certainly look well-toned enough to think so. As you probably expect, there are quite a few warm-ups, cool-downs, and water breaks for the newbies. The Dojo Gym of the Manila Polo Club also happens to be the proud owner of some very solid wooden floorboards, so you also have significant incentive to stay upright during the entire exercise.

Forty-five minutes, sixty jumping jacks, thirty push-ups, thirty sit-ups and countless awkward attempts at Capoiera movements later, I was beat. The whole dojo was starting to spin before my eyes, which made for a cool LSD-type effect but also told me that something was wrong. Five seconds later, the instructor moved past me -- walking on his hands, no less -- and I got the feeling that I was waaaay out of my league. :)

I did manage to muster enough strength for the cartwheeling exercises, though. You haven't lived till you've tried a cartwheel; it's one of those little physical feats that just gives an amazing feeling of satisfaction when you manage to do it right. Unfortunately for me, after about five passable attempts, the room really started spinning in front of me, and I was forced to retire to the back of the class. I therefore spent the latter half of the session seated in a Zen Burmese position, just watching the participants sweat it out and occasionally retire themselves.

Now, don't get me wrong here. First of all, I felt just fine; countless attempts at exercise have left me knowing exactly where my stamina threshold is, although it constantly comes up pretty short of the mark. Second, I was pretty proud of myself for lasting at least forty-five minutes; If I'd have wanted to give up completely, I would have done it in far less time. Finally, I'm looking into further participation in the future. Capoeira looks like pretty good physical training, and as long as the instructors don't tire of my face and my snide attempts at humor, I could see myself throwing and dodging kicks like the best of 'em.

For now, however, I'm content to rest the soles of my feet and flex my fingers on a plastic keyboard. Despite my general ineptitude, there are still some forms of exercise where I don't necessarily act like a total moron, and this happens to be one of them. It doesn't often involve such elements as rhythmic dancing or Christie Montero, but I'll take this one any day. :)


Sean's Note: Many thanks to Gem, who was nice enough to introduce and accompany me to this session. And while we're on the subject, Gem, I owe you a bottle of Gatorade. :)

Sena's Note 2: Greetings as well to Ramon and Neva, who I haven't seen in a long time. It's nice to know that I wasn't the only person there who wasn't getting enough exercise. :)

Rule 13

I opened up my e-mail this morning to find that Fully Booked had entered a new post in their mailing list -- specifically, their mailing list for contest updates:

> To: gaiman_writingcontest @ yahoogroups.com
> Date: Fri, 03 Feb 2006 09:31:43 -0600
> Subject: [gaiman_writingcontest] VERY IMPORTANT REMINDER! *gasp!*
>

The MOST IMPORTANT RULE is the ominous # 13.

---------------------------------
YAHOO! GROUPS LINKS
Visit your group "gaiman_writingcontest" on the web.
To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to:
gaiman_writingcontest-unsubscribe@yahoogroups.com
Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to the Yahoo! Terms of Service.
---------------------------------

Yup, that's it. That's all it said.

It makes me wonder just how much effort they're putting into this endeavor.

It's funny, really: You're one of the biggest sources of high-profile literature in metropolitan Manila. You're running one of the most extravagant writing contests in the history of the Philippines. You're being sponsored by an influential author with an international repertoire. You're giving details to more than a thousand people, all of whom are most likely scrambling to reach the deadline for your contest.

And in what's supposed to be a "very important reminder", this is all you tell us?

...

Frankly, I'm disappointed. Who writes these "updates", anyway?

Are they aware that the contest rules on the Fully Booked web site were inaccessible for the longest period of time early this year because something was wrong with their registration system? For that matter, were they aware that said registration system was very inconvenient (and easily bypassed) for anyone who just wanted to read the rules?

Are they aware that the contest rules are displayed as an image on their site? This makes the download extremely slow for anyone who isn't on a Broadband connection. Heck, the contest rules are all in text. Why don't they display it in text format, to begin with?

Are they aware that the contest rules still show the deadline date as "January 31, 2006"? Sure, there's now a label that indicates the deadline extension, but as of their last message, plenty of people still assumed that they were running under the original due date. Either they made the change too late, or the addendum just isn't very noticeable. And why don't they just edit the darn January listing in the first place?

Put all this together, and you can understand why just placing a reference to "Rule Number 13" just isn't going to cut it.

Does everybody have convenient access to the contest rules? No.

Can everybody efficiently acquire a copy of the contest rules? No.

Is everybody aware that the contest rules have been updated? No.

I still have a copy of these regulations from when I first heard about the competition, which was sometime in early December. And based on my little reference here, Rule 13 reads as follows:

"13. For comics, all artwork should be in black and white. No signatures must appear on any of the pages of the entries."

Yup, I'm sure that that must be plenty important.

Obviously, the contest rules have been updated since the time I first right-clicked on my browser window and saved these words for posterity. I know that they've been updated -- I visited the site just this morning.

In fact, when I visited the site this morning, I found it offline. I did manage to find what I presume is the most recent version of the contest rules, but it took quite a bit of trial-and-error on my part.

You're running a competition that rivals the Palanca Awards, people. You're organizing an effort that's supposed to help put alternative Philippine literature in the spotlight. You're speaking to over a thousand people whose entries hang on every detail in every one of your words.

There is a way to do this right, and believe me, you're far from doing it.

Throw us a bone, people. Give us something to work with. Toss us a line. We're your audience, for God's sake. We may be writers, but we're still your audience.

You may have one of the biggest contests to come around since contests were even invented, but we're the people who make your endeavor possible. We populate your little marketing-based world. You need us.

Don't sell us short like this.

Please.






Sean's Note: The current Rule Number 13, for those interested, goes as follows:

"13. All rules and guidelines of the contest must be followed STRICTLY. Non-compliance will subject the submission to immediate disqualification."

My reference for what I presume is the most recent version of the contest rules is at the following address:

http://www.fullybookedonline.com/home3.htm

You're welcome to have a look, everyone. Do keep in mind, however, that this may or may not be the final set of regulations that we're supposed to be follow. For your inquiries, please reference the Fully Booked web site (assuming that it's available, of course).


Sean's Note 2: I'm sending a copy of this article to the only referenced Fully Booked e-mail address I know of. They may not like me for it, but at least I know that I'll be saying exactly how I feel, and at least I know that those feelings are justified. And hey, if worst comes to worst and it takes me out of the running, then that means less competition for you, doesn't it?

Do Not Pass Go. Do Not Collect $200.

Sean's Note: It's funny how you can create an article out of bits and pieces. This thing's pretty old, although I've been adding to it little by little over the last month. The prequel to this article is over here.


Three games of Monopoly later, my siblings and I are all tied at one win each. My brother won our first game by hoarding three railroads and cruising to victory on the rent; My sister won our second game when she managed to land on all the light-blue properties early in the game; and finally, I won our most recent outing when I started charging them $900 rent every time they landed on Pacific Avenue.

While Monopoly's still far from being a purely strategic game in my book (there's too much of a luck requirement for my taste), it makes for a passable evening diversion. Somehow, though, I keep hearing stories of people who play it often enough to develop expert skills. I wonder just how many hours you have to spend at the game just so that you can crush your opponents' hotels beneath your feet.

Three games looks like a good enough start, though. I figure that it's possible to assess my stratagem now, make a few changes, and see if they do anything for the next couple of matches. That's probably where the educational value of board and card games lie, I think: They constantly get you wondering whether or not you're playing things right. If you're not, the games encourage you to fix your play style; otherwise they get you considering how you can one-up those opponents who use the same strategies.

I outlined six propositional strategies in my previous article on the subject, and I'll revisit each in turn:

A1. Favor certain properties.
As Roy carefully noted earlier, it's simply not viable to expect to land on certain key spaces on the board. While players are more likely to land on certain properties over others, the variance between them is so low as to be untrustworthy.

That said, Baltic Avenue and Mediterranean Avenue are still probably the worst places to set up shop. With the low frequency by which people seem to land on them, $50 per house simply won't get any substantial return. Boardwalk and Park Place suffer from a similar problem with low frequency, and on top of that, the $200-per-house charge will probably bankrupt you by itself. But it's worth seeing an opponent's face, at least, when he comes up short of Go and has to shell out $35 or $50 because of his misfortune.

A2. Know when to hold 'em.
It turns out that there might not be much strategy in buying idle properties at auction. In addition, deciding which deeds to mortgage at which times is probably an easier decision than expected. Both have the same underlying logic behind them, and it involves, quite frankly, whether you have the money or not. No money, no moves.

A3. Know when to fold 'em.
This was extremely obvious at first glance, particularly because properties don't diminish in worth over time. It's too obvious, though, which really questions its worth as a strategic element.

I suspect that the real issue of timing comes about when you're given the opportunity to un-mortgage your properties. When's the right time to do that? Should you buy the place back and prevent your opponents from seizing it, or should you keep the cash in case you suddenly run into a vicious case of rent? A good deal of the risk-management aspect of the game is reflected in the mortgage mechanic, I think.

A4. Track your income.
Yes, you get $200 whenever you pass Go. The longer the game goes, the lower the value of this $200 gets, but it's still free income, and free income never hurt anyone. In fact, for some players, the regular $200 infusion could mean the difference between staying in the game or going bankrupt.

This is in all probability why the "Income Tax" space is so frustrating: You either lose that $200 you just got, or you cash in ten percent of your available funds. In addition, anyone who manages to pull in the Light-Blue properties places three more areas on the board that can take peoples' hard-earned money away from them.

A5. Sometimes you'll want to Go to Jail.
This was the only one I pegged exactly right the first time. When it's early in the game, you'll want to get out as soon as possible in order to buy up more properties. Otherwise, however, you'll want to stay inside just to avoid a treacherous path across the board. The only downside to staying in Jail is the fact that you're not getting the $200 from passing Go, and even then, this won't mean much if you're already in the late game.

A6. Hoard the houses.
Five words: "You are assessed for street repairs." The card only appears once in each of the Chance and Community Chest decks, but it's enough to give you second thoughts about insane levels of house-buying.

That said, three houses appears to be sufficient for most properties. At that point, the rent becomes substantial enough to trouble your opponents, you hoard a good-sized portion of the supply of tiny green tokens, and having to pay for street repairs won't hurt as much.

Now, considering our last three games, I have a bit more to add:

B1. Ride the railroads.
By themselves, the properties in Monopoly are fairly pathetic when it comes to rent. You may pay $280 for Marvin Gardens, for example, but how long will you probably need to recoup your investment if you don't own both Atlantic and Ventnor as well?

The railroads, interestingly enough, are almost certainly the best deals when it comes to receiving rent. One railroad gives you $25 rent, which is average for the game. Two railroads, however, give $50 rent, and double the chances by which you can ensnare opponents. If you somehow manage to own three or more railroads, then you're probably cruising to a win right then and there.

B2. Position is everything.
Board positioning is remarkably important in Monopoly. I think I've even covered this before, considering that we know that Baltic Avenue, Mediterranean Avenue, Park Place and Boardwalk probably aren't exactly the best places to buy.

For one, position determines the price of houses and hotels. Structures on the cheaper areas of the board, for example, have much lower prices than structures on the more expensive sections. While the Light-Blue properties don't offer as much as some of the later properties in terms of return, for example, it's easier to develop them because of the cheaper structures. You could theoretically be kicking opponents in the shins before they even get their first house on Indiana Avenue.

Another couple of items to note is that everyone inevitably wants to pass Go as often as possible, and that in the later stages of the game, everyone wants to stay in Jail for as long as possible. That makes properties around those areas somewhat attractive; Controlling the Orange properties, for instance, gives you a good chance of charging rent right after a player walks out of prison.

The Go to Jail space on the board may also be a distinct factor in this regard: Why invest heavily in the Green properties, for example, when players heading in their direction have a good chance of being sent back halway across the board? The presence of the Jail mechanic probably makes the more expensive properties more than a little risky.

Finally, there's always the prospect of building a "minefield" -- teaming up with a player in order to develop all the properties that lie on a single edge of the board. Opponents are going to have to pass through eventually, and it'll obviously be difficult for them to get through without having to pay you or your allies huge sums of money.

B3. Build in bursts.
It's difficult enough to expect to land on specific spaces of the board, I think. In fact, it's a lot more unreasonable to expect opponents to land on those specific spots.

Let's suppose that you own all the Green properties, where the houses and hotels are worth $200 each. Now let's suppose that an opponent is slowly moving towards those properties, and you only happen to have enough cash on hand to build one house. Where do you build it?

The simplest and most correct answer to this, I think, is that you shouldn't bother. If you manage to build only one house in that situation, the chances of your opponent landing on that exact same spot within the next turn are pretty slim. In addition to that, he'll have to do one more lap around the board before you get that chance again. Even worse, you're now down a couple hundred with almost nothing to show for it.

I've noticed that it's probably best to buy "rounds" of houses in this regard: If you're going to develop a set of properties because an opponent is coming up the walk, then you might as well buy for all of them at the same time. This increases the chances of forcing a large payout from that opponent. In fact, if your opponent's lucky enough to land on one of those developed properties, his rent will help finance your next round of construction in the same area.

B4. Talk turkey.
One of the interesting aspects of Monopoly is that you can negotiate with opponents when it comes to title deeds (although sadly, you can't lend or borrow money). This supposedly adds something to the risk-taking element of the game, but it can also be seen a good control mechanism for certain situations.

Every now and then, someone's going to get lucky and gain an advantage that puts him ahead of everyone else. That person may have gotten three or four railroads, or have acquired all properties of one color group, or have had multiple houses waiting in certain zones. In those cases, I feel it's clear that if the rest of the players in the game don't do something quick, the offending player is going to bleed them dry.

I think that pragmatic negotiation should really take over at this point. If somebody's charging you an arm and a leg for hotel rental on Atlantic Avenue, then you should start making offers that are more than a little skewed in nature. You say that you don't want my St. Charles Place for your Illinois Avenue even though it means that we'll both complete our color sets? Then we both might as well sit back and lose the game. If somebody's way out in front of the rest of the pack, then the rest of the players need to take drastic measures in order to catch up.


After three games, our interest in Monopoly has petered out a little, so I guess that I might have to hoard these strategies for a while. If anyone's interested in a game, though, do drop me a line. We can set something up, I suppose. :)

Now where did I put that Clue gameboard...?

Disclaimer: February 2006

Once more, is the time proposes my deadline and the condition for the article in this blog.

All articles in this weblog are entire primitive in the creation except the concrete instance, clearly famous. All projects adopts which from exterior origin attribute to officially their origin, although, if anybody has in this weblog any opposed their existence, then I am am willing to remove them in clear and the attendance notice.

In all exterior alone hopes the use, quotes or publishes article all situations in these, I will be the morning am willing to give me to permit their endeavor, so long as they ask for trouble, otherwise, and, only then when they and my writing attribute to fully connects such use in this blog. Otherwise, I will send out the direct warning for theirs motion and the request payment compensation. If that collapse and I actively seek the legitimate method of portrayal right request payment.

From this writing time, I do not reduce the any comment left achievement from the user approval basic freedom of speech. I, however, does not forgive in this kind of privilege any one hateful or the malicious abuse, and not impossible to hesitate adopts the measure opposition suitable individual.

Finally, no matter this entry looked that badness, I may guarantee which your Systran is quite good tool serves for the translation. Meaning, you attempt to translate something I to become Chinese and behind. Two times. It is not pretty.

Fingers Drumming on the Table

According to the Chinese calendar, New Year's has just come and gone. It's now the Year of the Dog, and depending on which Feng Shui experts you've consulted, we're either headed for a troublesome year or an optimistic outlook.

I believe that I'm Chinese enough to realize that you really can't phrase the traditional New Year greeting into Pinyin English without making it look really strange when read. So I'll just keep it simple: Happy New Year, everyone.

I'm still busy at work, so if you've got any stories I have to read, or pictures I have to see, or animations I have to watch, I'll have to ask that you wait a little longer. My schedule should free itself up somewhere in the middle of this week, I hope. Maybe I'll have enough time to get back to writing.

Of course, I'm horrible with schedules... they tend to sneak up and bite me on the leg whenever I'm not looking. But hey, an educated guess is usually better than no guess at all.

Absence Without Official Leave

Hmmm... interesting.

It's obvious that I haven't posted here for a while. In the interim, however, I've taken to analyzing the nature of blog visits as well as audience presence, and I'm surprised to see that most of my initial assumptions were correct.

For anyone who's been wondering why I haven't been around lately, you're welcome to select any or all of my excuses from the following list:

1. I've been busy at work. The new general manager hasn't come in yet, we're experiencing a staff exodus common to most companies at the start of each year, and I find myself doing everything at work that I really shouldn't be doing at all.

2. I've been coming home late. If it's not because of work, it's because of the planning sessions for my sister's 18th birthday. Hey, somebody's got to scare all the hormone-driven young men away. :)

3. I've been playing a lot of computer games. Sometimes when you're sitting in front of the computer late at night, there's nothing much else you feel like doing that doesn't involve stomping on rogue Koopa Troopas.

4. Er... my dog ate it.

Despite these reasons, however, part of me can't help but think that my ending of the Suman Latik posts may have precipitated this to some degree. I'll admit that I found the Suman posts to be refreshingly... regular. That is, whenever a Wednesday rolled around, I would find myself making a mental note to sit in front of the computer later that same evening, and write. Just write.

The Suman posts made me worry for my constant updates as well. How would you feel, for instance, if you placed a Wednesday post online, only to find that it was hovering directly above your previous consecutive Wednesday post? You'd be ashamed at not updating your blog more often, that's how you'd feel. It was probably more obvious on my part, seeing that I was using the same Suman Latik image week after week.

In a sense, therefore, it was the Suman posts that were getting me to write something at least three times a week. No kidding there.

That, I think, puts a certain idea into the realm of consideration: What could I write as a weekly feature for this blog? It would have to be vague enough to support multiple attempts at writing, yet curious enough to attract the attention of a multifaceted audience. I'd rather not have to write fiction every week (for fear of burnout), and I'm sure that those few readers I have would not appreciate me airing my vituperations on a regular schedule. On the other hand, I also want to make sure that I feature something totally different from what most other blogs are doing out there.

I suspect that I can't really just decide on something and proceed to do it. I find that the successful endeavors, the real deals, the great journeys, all often grow out of a completely unassuming routine. It could be that the key to a weekly feature lies somewhere in the stuff I'm already writing; It could also be that I'll find inspiration in somebody else's blog or web site. Who knows, really? Who knows?

All the same, however, I'll be looking around for a bit. There's probably something interesting that I can find somewhere...

Blog Theory

Sean's Note: The results of the 2005 Philippine Blog Awards have produced a bit of a controversy in the blogosphere. Some quarters have pointed out a number of needs for improvement in its process, particularly with regards to mechanics, marketing and general judging. Others have openly questioned the credibility of the awards, and have denounced the fact that no concrete criteria was established prior to the contest in the first place.

Despite the fact that I have no direct involvement in the organization that gives out the Philippine Blog Awards, and despite the fact that I'm more of a shifty-eyed weasel than I am a proper blogger, I feel as though I have to react to these recent developments. My words here do not intend to defend any honors I have received from such authoritarian entities, nor do I expect a greater audience to stop, listen, and take them to heart. I write what I write here because I feel that it should be said. I write what I write here because I think it makes sense, and frankly, that's all that matters to me.





So what makes a good blog?

Let's be serious, now: There's got to be a number of worthwhile blogs on the Internet. Otherwise, you wouldn't be reading them regularly, now wouldn't you?

Of course there are a bunch of worthwhile blogs out there. Any Internet reader will probably be able to show you his or her collection of bookmarks and favorite links. The chances are good that there will be at least one or two regularly-visited online journals, or news feeds, or recipe books, or event handlers, or whatever in there.

Heck, most bloggers themselves have this handy little thing called a "blogroll" that tells you exactly what places the writer tends to visit. In a way, it's like a suggested reading list: If you liked this work, then you can try reading other works by authors of similar mind or interest.

But then, I shouldn't be explaining this to you, right? If you're reading this, then you're most likely aware of weblogs as a whole, what they're like, and how they work. I can probably take it in good faith that you either have a weblog yourself, or had one before, or are planning to establish one in the future.

Seeing that you're obviously qualified for rational discussion on the matter, I can sit back and ask you my question without any trace of discomfort: What makes a good blog?

...uh huh.

...mm-hmm.

...yes, quite so.

...good point.

...uh huh.

All right, then. But we have to remember that you're not the only one reading this article. There's a whole multitude of people reading this as well; some, perhaps, at this very moment. We can't assume that you're the only one who answered my first question, after all.

So, I give you my second question: Do you think that your answer perfectly agrees with that of every other person reading this article?

...

...

No.

Unequivocally, no.

Every person out there looks for different qualities in what he or she reads. Some look for friendship and fellowship. Some look for enlightening experiences. Some look for laughter and entertainment. Each and every one of us has his or her own preferences. There is no single specific group of characteristics that defines what a good piece of writing is. There is no single specific group of characteristics that defines what a good blog is like.

You can probably make such a case for every positive quality that we see in a blog. After all, while certain aspects may be important to some readers, these same aspects may mean little more than chicken scratches to others. It's obvious that each such quality does not have the same level of significance to each and every person out there!

Let's take popularity, for example. Popularity, you say? Hah! What does it mean, really, if a blog is popular? A site may draw a significant audience, but we must really ask ourselves how it's drawing them in. I could theoretically create a brand, spanking-new blog that shows nothing but pictures of naked women in hardcore sex positions, and it would obviously draw a large segment of the international male population. But would you nominate me for the Blog Awards simply because of my blog's popularity?

How about writing? Some people would make the argument that any blog with good writing deserves an award. But in truth, writing doesn't mean anything by itself. I mean, I could spin stories that make children laugh. I could write words that make men weep. I could read rhymes that espouse the beauty of life and bring fulfillment to the human soul. But what if I somehow manage to write all this, and yet decide to keep it all to myself? Do I deserve to be nominated for the Blog Awards despite the fact that I have no devout readers who can testify to my strengths?

So is it a question of influence, then? Is it a question of audience and regular readership? To that, I ask this: What's the difference between audience influence and popularity? You could make the argument that there must be something that the audience sees, something in the blogger's style, technique and presentation that allows him to exert influence over such a wide stable of readers -- but then you'd fall back to the questions of how and why. Could I then create a blog that caters to an existing audience (Philatelists? Musicians? Reality TV fans?) and cruise to a Blog Awards nomination on my newfound influence? Or what if I create a blog that just happens to promote blogs themselves, generating an audience through the many writers and RSS feeds with whom I come into contact? Should that automatically qualify me for a nomination?

Okay, then what about linkage? Can I theoretically whore out my blog's address to every single aggregator, place it on every journal collection I can think of, produce thousands and thousands of hits on Google, and expect myself to be nominated on the sheer number of links alone?

Hard-hitting commentary, perhaps? I mean, it draws readers, right? Sure, but does that mean that I can write a blog that insults every entity in existence and expect a nomination just for my plucky, balls-to-the-wall attitude?

Prolific writing, perhaps? Does that mean that I deserve to get nominated just because I happen to post something three times a day on a regular basis, regardless of the quality of my resulting work?

Layout and design? Please. Do you mean to tell me that I can have the prettiest-looking blog on the face of the earth and score a nomination for the Blog Awards regardless of whatever I've written inside?

I don't think that much more needs to be said at this point. The answer to each and every one of these questions is obvious. Can we -- should we -- do we even deserve to qualify for a set of Blog Awards nominations on the strength of a single one of the above qualities alone?

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Yes.

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Hell, yes.

What makes a good blog, we wonder? What makes a good blog stand out from the rest? After all, we've already named more than a few positive qualities that can evidently not stand on their own.

That, however, does not automatically mean that we can discard them, either.

Good blogs do not depend on the weight of a single one of the above qualities, but are a consensus of all of them. That's what it is, really: a Consensus. It's all of the given factors taken together and judged with an equally significant weight for each.

A blog can be nominated for popularity, for example, and it can be acknowledged for such -- even if the blog in question is merely a glorified porn site.

A blog can be nominated for good writing, and be acknowledged for that. A blog can be nominated for its influence across a wide audience, and it will be acknowledged for that. A blog can be nominated for its sheer number of referring links, its spotlight on relevant issues, its prolificacy in updates, its awesome graphic design, and millions of other aspects... and it will be acknowledged for those.

But a blog will be judged on the sum of its combined qualities. Each of the factors will be given an equally significant weighing with regards to the whole.

That is what a consensus is, ladies and gentlemen. It is an agreement between multiple entities who each have different ideas as to what makes a good blog in the first place.

That, I believe, is the essence of a true Blog Awards. We may or may not agree with any final decision that comes forth, but we must never let it be said that we do not try to accomplish this despite the differences. We should not judge a blog on the basis of a single quality that we just happen to hold higher than the rest of the reader population, if only because of the presence of a reader population in the first place.

There are aspects of quality out there other than the ones we hold close to our hearts. We can rant and rave all we want about whether or not certain things fulfill what we like to see in a weblog, but when it comes right down to it, we have to look at the big picture. We have to take things in as a whole. We need to reach a consensus with those around us.

The question is not what you think makes a good weblog, but what we all think makes a good weblog.

In the end, I believe that that's what matters.


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A Few Little Tweaks

It's Wednesday night (Thursday morning, actually), and the deadline for the Draconic Fiction Anthology has just elapsed. I was fortunately able to attach something to an e-mail at around 11:45 pm and send it in as a submission, although at this point in time, I'm not quite sure how it's going to turn out. It'll come to be regarded as either a work of genius or an abomination of nature, I suppose.

I actually went on leave for the whole day today, slept until noon, and then spent the afternoon and the evening pounding out drafts on the computer. I went through five or six drafts before I came up with one that I finished, and so I tweaked that and sent it in. I'm not particularly satisfied with it, if anyone's wondering; it's probably workable, but I need at least one or two more days to find out what I did wrong and what I did right.

I've observed that I need a lot of "lead time" before I come up with a legible short story. Apart from the long process of figuring out the plots, the characters and the settings in my head, I need at least two or three days to come up with a succession of drafts. I don't think that this is a normal practice, mind you, but more of a personal thing -- it's akin to rattling away at a typewriter, occasionally tearing out old drafts and tossing them into the wastebasket.

Obsession-compulsion, perhaps? I doubt it. I like tweaking finished drafts, yes, but if I ever leave something unfinished, it's usually because I've lost interest in the work somehow. And if a work is so bad that I find myself losing interest right in the middle of the narrative, then I'll almost certainly leave it behind without looking back. I lose more drafts that way, yes.

And if you think that this is bad, must I remind you that the deadline for the Fully Booked writing contest is on the 28th of February? Once again, it's time to get cracking, guys.

Draconic

I'm still trying to think up a Dragon story.

In the midst of heavy work, staff problems, independent projects, L5R, bedside reading, Photoshop wrangling and Super Metroid, I'm still trying to think up a Dragon story.

Writing a Dragon story is easy, really. Any writer can put together a nice Dragon story. It's the search for a different Dragon story that's taking up most of my time.

My deadline's on Wednesday, and I'm still trying to think up a Dragon story.

I just wanted to say that.

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...

Ah, well. Back to work now.

Who Watches

Dominique was nice enough to inform me yesterday afternoon that the local Powerbooks was selling copies of Watchmen again. Seeing as it's one of the items on my list that I hoped I'd get for Christmas (but didn't), I dropped by later that same evening to pick it up. Dominique, for that matter, was nice enough to let me borrow his discount card for the duration of the sale.

Watchmen, for the non-readers out there, is one of the greater works of the last century. Time Magazine has it in their list of the 100 Greatest Novels of all Time (circa October 2005), in fact. It is an utterly fantastic read that covers an alternate version of our modern world, and it offers us glimpses into the flawed and often disjointed personalities that human heroism often wears. It's a comic, but it can definitely not be judged by the fact that it's "just" a comic.

I first read the book back in college and loved it then. Seven years later, I apparently still love it enough to shell out a good chunk of cash for a copy. And seven years later, the book still holds the power to keep me turning the pages -- I went to bed at 4:30 am last night, just going through the story.

Good books are like that, I think. You don't just read them once and put them away; you read them, remember them, and when that memory sparks in your mind one cold day seven years later, you wish that they were in your hands once again.

You can always tell whether or not a book is loved. These books are invariably scratched, folded, dogeared, marked and stained. Their spines are broken in more than once place. Their covers are long gone, torn completely off their pages by the mere passage of time. Their words are smudged or crumbling in particularly favored passages.

This could be why I don't like people who have private libraries. I think you know the type -- the rich, dapper ones who manage to have an entire room dedicated to shelves and shelves of formal hardcovers. I spend hours in those places. I look at the glass displays, frown in dismay at the fact that they're locked shut, and generally give people a look that says, But does he actually read these?

Strangely enough, there's even a Feng Shui tenet that advises people to fill rooms with books in order to subconsciously absorb the knowledge within. Sad, but true.

Of course, Watchmen isn't the only item on my list of good reading. I've covered a small selection before, and even that doesn't scratch the surface of what I read, like and love. The best part about good books, of course, is that barring a catastrophic occurrence that affects the universe as we know it, books like these will continue to be written.

All that remains, then, is for us to find the time to drop by the nearest place and pick them up. They may cost us only two bits, or they may cost us a whole roll of bills, but if they stand out in our memories so well, then at least we know that they're well worth the experience.

In my opinion, everyone out there should have a book that they're constantly looking for.

Here's to more of their kind. In both ways, yes.