dead stars?

For most of a star's life, gravity and pressure balance each other exactly, and so the star is stable. However, when a star runs out of nuclear fuel, gravity gets the upper hand and the material in the core is compressed even further. The more massive the core of the star, the greater the force of gravity that compresses the material, collapsing it under its own weight.

-Science Background

stars on their own, science tells us eventually become black holes. nothing more but a shade of their former glorious self.
you know what i think? anything in this world, tangible or not, whether it be a great or terrible kind of beauty, as long as it feeds on itself or has the wrong kind of reason will eventually, "shine and burn" itself out.

what am i trying to say? go read between the lines and figure. if you can, that is. :)

now, a quarter of a century...

to those who remembered and greeted me on my natal day. :)

ma, pa, my siblings minus 1, cousteau for a bark and a lick!
cousins, girlfriends of cousins, boyfriends of cousins, titas, titos, aunts and uncles
extended families and cy's sisters most especially
colleagues in the faculty room, recomed inc. and upstrat inc.
students, MS classmates and once-classmates(both in college and in hs)
and my ebc family, capoeira, kick-ass training sessions, roda and good axe: (especially to contente, beju, piexe frito, pixote, pirulito, macaca and esquiva)

family, friends, acquaintances, and significant other**. for writing on my wall. :)

i know the celebration started early (sep 19) and ended kinda late (sep28) but company is sweet especially if you know that they are genuine. gb3 banana leaf, north park, gb2 bizu and bhs tgif :)

feliz aniversario, professora! parabens!

Capoeoira se me chamar eu vou

Sweat dripping. Chest heaving. I'm trying to catch my breath.
The berimbau is telling me to play. And not just play. It's telling me to play fast.
And so I do. My ginga is not even for resting like it's supposed to.
I'm moving. Sideways. Trying to find an opening.

He makes a move but I know what's coming.
I fall letting him think I'm got.
Hoping all the while that the glint in my eye does not show.
I escape and I make my counter.

When we're done. I clap and sing.
Try to give back what I took.
I raise my voice just as I had raised my legs, my arms and my body.
Let them feel how I feel when I start to play.
With him, with her, with you, with myself.
In this circle. We are one.

I played 5 or six games tonight. And it felt like everyone wanted to play with me. I'm ecstatic. So this is what Fantasma feels like when he steps into the roda. Pure. Complete. Utter rapture.

MBP is his Tiffany's

I remember a conversation I had with Cy regarding one of the many differences between the male and female gender. This particular one spawned from a scene in The Devil Wears Prada where Andy hands Lilly a Mark Jacobs bag and Nate fails to understand why women need so many bags. Apparently, Cy has a bit of Nate's character in him as he gave me a suspicious look and asked me what my excuse was for having so many myself. Ever since we had that conversation, the differences between our male-female interest became more prominent that we gradually added to the list of our agreed upon differences/quirks over time.

Yesterday, Cy got his Macbook Pro. A 17" beauty of pure computing power which I'm sure will make him all the more addicted to his work (that is, if he could get any more addicted). He's yet to give it a name but I am none less happy and excited for him. Congratulations on your MBP and I hope you write many more kick-ass programs on it. :)

Here's a Photobooth (using my MB Neve) of us with Cy's yet nameless MBP and Scylax (Cy's MB) at the back.

i am myself. even if the whole world should change.