Before giving her food, I use to ask Dolly to shake or beg or give paw, and she’d lift one paw up (always her right one) for me. Now she’s associated the paw-lifting action with being fed, so she skips the step of me saying anything and automatically does it.
She’ll do anything for food really.
You didn’t know it, but for years I’ve come close to burning the bridge with you. It was a heavy step to take, because in doing so, I knew that I would never be able to go back on such a drastic decision.
I appreciate all the financial support you’ve provided. It’s been more than I can ask for. Unfortunately, what I wanted and needed the most was emotional support.
I’ve always played the role of the submissive son. Your boy who’s always done what you wanted and agreed with what you said. When we exchanged tears on the phone in August, I let you know how poorly I was treated growing up. I’ve always put up with it, but the way you acted last week was the straw that broke the camels back. I keep giving you a chance, over and over. Seeing you over those few days was the last one. Even if you say now that you can change, the risk isn’t worth it. The potential misery, frustration, and anguish you may cause me aren’t worth it.
Normally, I would be sensitive about the timing — the fresh divorce, the transition — but I don’t care anymore. I’ve put my feelings aside my whole life. You pushed me too far, and now I have to consider myself.
Don’t contact me again. Not even if someone dies. Any calls, messages, e‑mails will be ignored. This is not an easy or a brash decision for me, a decision I’ve made after cooling off and calming down, but from my point of view it’s for the best.
From now on, I don’t have a mother.
And you don’t have a son.
Edit: Carlo has taken down his site. I’ve put up a cached version. Thanks to everyone for the support — goes to show that a voice can count for something on the internet.
Carlo, who lives somewhere in Metro Manila and sometimes, not most of the time, in Pangasinan, Philippines, has stolen from me. There are others who steal my work, but this is usually the pictures I take, which they use as backgrounds for their own sites (most commonly the starry sky at Bancroft). I try not to take offence to this; the file sizes are commonly small, so it doesn’t make much of a dent in my monthly bandwidth. There are also people like Sophia, who has made her presence known to me, and uses my words every so often in her own writing as a flattering gesture.
Carlo is different.
This entry, which I struggled days to write, into which I poured my heart, was posted on his blog a day after mine. He did change the title, although I think this hardly ameliorates his actions. He also used my Petal Game picture (perhaps without noticing my watermark in the lower right-hand corner), as well as a line from my post inspired by Eternal Sunshine, for a different entry.
It saddens me to think not of how easily someone can steal things on the internet, but how willing they are to do it. I can only wonder how many other people have stolen from me. Lorelle, who offers some great points on what to do if someone steals your content, suggests open communication, in combination with as a letter of cease and decist. And while I’m in complete agreement with this, I felt that for the first time I should write about it instead, to make it public, so that others may be aware of their own works. There are people who will quote without referencing. There are people who will take without returning.
Because what’s the point of blogging, when one’s words aren’t one’s own?
Featured on Slashdot on June 12th, 2006, under Toys, Space, and Science.
Pat once told me that he harbours an inexplicable compulsion to be in space. His belief is that when he’s finally there, he’ll have all the answers. Life. God. 42. The metaphysical implications don’t make sense, yet this is what he truly thinks. It’s a strange hole in the logical being I know as Pat, and only the enigmatic curiosity of the night sky can do this to someone.
I’m no exception. Something borne in us from childhood is a fascination that stems from the unknown. The stars provide enough for us to wonder about for a lifetime.
Unfortunately, for those who live in the city, there’s little chance to see the sky without “sky glow”, the annoying phenomenon that drowns out a large number of stars visible to the naked eye and telescope alike. As a by-product of industrialization, light pollution has taken the sparkle out of the stars, and this is where the HomeStar comes in.
According to the official Homestar website, (translated through Babelfish):
“It is the planetarium for worldwide first optical type home. It is possible to exceed several thousand numbers of stars that to project approximately ten thousand thing stars it can see generally with naked eye of the human.”
Continue reading “HomeStar — 21st Century Home Planetarium”…
There’s something about these small-town stores. They carry everything; books, art supplies, furniture, candy.
The baubles, the African statues, the organic catnip tins, the esoteric wire sculptures, they all go home with someone. Some of them will be thrown out in less than a year, others become heirlooms passed from generation to generation.
The people who work there are never the same, but there’s always one thing that’s consistent. You can see the innocence in their faces, a warm feeling of rustic integrity. They all say hi, and go back to what they were doing, never minding your wandering presence in the store. I think I’d like to be one of these people some day. Maybe when I retire.
Selling dreams.
