Super Lucky Elephant Rice

I’m happy to report that Super Lucky Elephant White Jasmine Rice, when cooked, remains soft and fluffy, even after two nights’ refrigeration.

W32/Perrun Virus still needs an executable to run

Please don’t panic when you hear of the so-called JPEG virus. Sensational hullabaloo obscures the fact that “W32/Perrun” still needs to infect you with an executable file before it can mess with your pictures. If you follow the standard precaution s and delete all strange email attachments with .EXE and .VBS extensions, you’ll be fine.

Deprecated FONT tags

My dislike for <font> tags is growing by leaps and bounds. Great, big, giant leaps and bounds.

The Protection of His Mighty Hand

Today it is three months and a day since I made the Jump. In that time I’ve gotten a job, been accepted into my target MA program this Fall, and joined the choir at a wonderful Baptist church. God has been good, and the blessings have been abundant. And even if these blessings were denied to me, God would still be good, and I continually rest in the peace of knowing that I am never out from under the protection of his mighty hand.

In those three months, my ethnicity has also been mistaken for Hispanic, Indian, Arab Palestinian, Jewish, and Korean. But never Filipino. Americans and Filipinos alike never know I’m ethnically Filipino till I let some Tagalog slip.

Sidewalk Strawberry. A Poem.

On a cold, gray rainy

Friday morning,

I saw a strawberry

on the sidewalk.

Crushed.

And I wondered

Who could have dropped it

Without picking it up?

And I wondered

Who could have stepped on it

Without seeing

That bright flash of red

On the cold, wet, gray

pavement?

(And I wondered

If I wrote that

with line breaks,

would it sound

like a poem?)

Back from Baltimore

I’m back from Baltimore. Looked at a room for rent, got some papers from the financial aid office, got lost somewhere in ghetto-land when I walked the wrong way up 25th Street. That was a bit scary. And when I opted to take a bus, some black kids hanging out at the bus stop looked at me weird and told me to “knock it off.” I have no idea what they were talking about.

I was rather glad to return to Penn Station and get back on the MARC train out of there. Baltimore did not agree with me.

The MICA campus, however, was gorgeous. Lots of old buildings dating as far back as 1826. Nice and historical. And the neighborhood it’s in isn’t quite as ghetto-ish as the rest of the city.

(Um, am I allowed to call African Americans “black,” or is it regarded as derogatory? Well, I call myself “brown.”)