Swollen

Got an itchy, swollen tonsil. Not in the mood to write. Disoriented. Stat 101 exam, very tricky. Got the difficult problem solved, but messed up on the easy one. Such an idiot. Haven't watched Episode II. Don't feel like watching today. Very sleepy. Hungry, (again? just had burger and fries an hour ago). Had another Strepsils. Drowsy.

Surprisingly, (or was it?) I got some pretty suspicious email from somebody, whom I don't even know, and don't wanna know, in the first place. But then again, the email has one of those melodramatic formula you often see when you turn the TV on and switch the channel to you-know-what-goddamn-network-that-is. And, so, I was even on the brink of sending my reply, had I been one of those cheesy ..uhrm... nevermind; I know I am, in some degree, but hell! I'd like to think I'm not. Besides, this is my blog, so I'm saying what is and what isn't. Kei? So. Have the patience to read on. Come on. Patience is a good virtue.

Frank's Email (or whoever he is)

Date: Wed, 15 May 2002 10:45:33 -0700 (PDT)
From: frank malaba
Subject: urgent response
To: sko@gwapo.com
----------------------------------------------------------
frank malaba
frmalaba2@yahoo.com
Bamako
Mali
Dear sir

I know this will come to you out of the blue as a surprise. I write this crucial mail to solicit your assistance in a transaction that will be very beneficial to you, with hope that you will never let me down either now or in future. Please study the following account carefully and respond urgently.

I am frank Malaba a Zimbabwe nationality, the eldest son of late Honourable Adam Malaba. My father served the President Mugabe’s government faithfully in various capacities as a minister and chairman of agriculture trust fund. He was however arrested on 4th April 2001 because he was against Mugabe’s government concerning the ongoing land dispute that erupted in Zimbabwe since last year.

My father while in detention was humiliated and tortured by Mugabe’s security operatives, in spite of his falling health and as a result he died in detention on the 28th day of April 2001. Before his death, he confided to me and my brother the existence of Eighteen million five hundred thousand United State dollar (18.5M US dollar) he secretly lodged in a vault. My brother and I are the only people in my family who are privy to this information, the money is now in our custody (cash).

Since his arrest, my family has been subjected to untold hardship and harassment. All my father’s assets has been confiscated. His accounts frozen and we were been attacked and driven out of our family house in Harare. Narrowly I escaped to Mali with my family and the boxes containing the money. On getting to Mali, we applied for political asylum. I could not take such a huge foreign currency to bank without raising an eyebrow. So I quickly deposited the boxes with a reputable security company as family valuables. I have the depository agreement and the certificate of the deposit issued to me by the security company.

I was waiting to have a legal status before I could invest the money here. But last week I received a mail from Mali government informing me that I and my family are not eligible to obtain political asylum, that my father was the one who had problem and not members of his family and to that effect we should be ready to go back to Zimbabwe soon.

At this point, I am frustrated and simply tired. My family lawyer advised me to leave Africa. For this reason, I want you to assist me to shift and invest this fund outside Africa. I will compensate you generously to as much as 20% of the said amount at stake if only you can help me. I and my family will use the remaining 80% to start new life and seek a new happiness in overseas.

This transaction demands expediency, secrecy and absolute trust. Our destiny is in your hands, do not abandon us. Please assist us to escape this spectres of political persecution going on in Africa. More also treat this mail with utmost confidentiality because of my safety and the money. I eagerly await your reply.please include fax and phone number for easy communication.

Thanks and God bless.

Yours faithfully,
Frank

______________________________________


Funny, because, I searched the net for this guy's name, and I found this: Oscar's Plight.
Additional pointers:
1. Compare the dates in my copy and in the link.

So, amusingly annoying. You be the judge.

Believer

The last time I went to church was when I was in third year highschool. I was raised on a Christian background, but somehow, somewhere along the way, I just drifted away from it. I'm not an atheist, though. Not yet, and I hope I won't be. The mere thought can be really scary. I'm not reluctant to even call myself agnostic because at this point in time, I really can't assess my stand to certain things regarding God, and what I really believe in. Being agnostic is to believe that things about the existence of an ultimate cause, such as God, is unknown and unknowable (thanks to Mr. Webster, here). I'd like to believe that there really is a God, that Jesus, and all the things that were said about him were true. That there really is heaven for good people to go to when they die and hell as a place of torment for people who are plain nasty.

Being in UP just made my already unstable beliefs even more unstable. I began questioning His existence. What if there's no God after all, what if he was just fabricated to comfort other people's fear? The longer I stayed in UP, the farther I drifted. I became even more unyielding to concepts concerning the religious. I may not have voiced it out but I know in my heart that I’m starting to see all these things pragmatically. Somehow I became the type of person who wouldn't just swallow everything that you would serve on a platter. I became suspicious, moreso, paranoid. And it freaks me out.

There's this one hypothesis that the belief in such things sprung from the human fear of death. Man doesn’t exactly know what would happen to him when he dies. He has no definitive knowledge as to where his soul (if he really has one) will go. For fear that his existence will just result into nothingness, he conditioned himself that there's life after death. That everything in this world is just a precursor, moreso, an extension of what he would do in the afterlife. And that there's this ultimate being that sees what he is doing when he is alive and this same being will decide the fate of his soul.

Every so often, I still get the compulsion to go to church. To go inside the chapel whenever I pass by. I still don't want to go to mass, though. I don't want to conform to the ritualistic norms of the church. I still avoid being with so many people, a lot of which I still suspect as hypocrites. I just want to be there when there are no people around, when everything is so quiet and peaceful. Maybe I will pray. I don't know.

I prayed my last, just before the previous semester ends, before a removal exam for a major subject. I was really desperate then. And to my surprise, it worked! There must really be a God up there. I was so surprised, I exclaimed, "Mahal pa pala ko ng Diyos." Is that a consolation? Who knows?

I took some quizzie that I accidentally ran into. I love "Trainspotting" so I immediately took the test, hoping I would be Mark Renton, my favorite Trainspotter. And here's the result. *with a huge grin plastered on my face*

Which Trainspotting Character Are You?

Oh, well, except for that heroin thing. :D