Memories, both cherished and raped.

1. I miss the house I grew up in.

My family once lived in the idyllic military base in Sangley Point, when my father still served the Philippine Navy. We occupied one of the houses in residential area, impersonally referred to in military parlance as "quarters." The term made the place sound as if it was bare, with spartan furnishings and pristine white walls cracked with age and smelling of a military officer's aftershave.

I called it my home, and it was far from being mere "quarters" or a housing unit. My home. Or at least, was.

I could still vividly recall the days when I would invite classmates over in that house and they'll always say the same thing each time they visit: that they floor is so shiny and clean they could practically see their reflections on it (the floor was actually made of some kind of linoleum shined to a sparkle with Pronto). I myself had a habit of sleeping on the bare floor because its cooler that way. XD

Our house in Sangley Point managed to stay beautiful while we still lived there; while my brother stayed up late in its living room playing SNES/3D0/PSone games, while I rolled around the cool floor in slumber, while our eldest brother hid himself in the living room having a long chat over the phone with his steady girlfriend (now his wife).

Fast forward several years later. My father finally had to retire and turned over the old house to its next occupant, and we started moving from one apartment to another. My parents at this point already had their own house in the province, where they're now starting to spend the remainder of their years.

We eventually found a permanent place to stay in Manila, and I've recently taken over the responsibilities in running that particular household. My eldest brother already has his own digs somewhere in Cavite with his own family, while second eldest is working abroad and is slated to inherit the provincial house.

We can't help but look back at that special house where we spent our childhood, however, where I spent my first twenty years of my life. I still remember its rather ominous-looking stairwell, which creeped me out so much as a child that I ran up and down the stairs as a habit (the shorter the time I spent there, the better). I still remember my old room with pastel-pink walls, which showed its original white color where the paint has peeled off.

I still remember waking up in certain stormy mornings to find the living room somehow decided played host to minnows and guppies and rats swimming in five inches of water, without our express consent.

I remember fishing out a handful of letters from an almost forgotten desk sitting in my old room, one which my parents gave me since I was six years old. Those letters were from friends long gone, and some from past loves, and some from my ex-bestfriend whose amorous intentions I had rejected--I remember smiling as I opened them again. It has been years since I've last read them. Those were indeed the days.

I could only sigh since I know it's all in the past. I haven't talked with either of them for a few years already. I don't even plan to; I'm already content with my life, and my love, and I don't have to rummage into the past again to make me complete.

I just feel that I don't have to, in the same manner that I don't feel inclined to visit that old house.

But I still miss those days, and I still miss that special place where I grew up in.

2. Here's Piccolo in the upcoming truckload of fail, the Hollywood Dragonball movie. It's just amazing how some people find it in their hearts to desecrate a much-beloved cultural phenomenon, really.

James Marsden, I think. But I really think their take on Piccolo is not bad. It could be worse, like the guy they cast as Goku. Nothing could be worse as a white kid cast as Goku. Makes me go FFFFFFFFFFFFF...grah.

3. Thanks to a guide I found in DS Fanboy, I finally managed to figure out how to get NeoDS working. Words can't really express how elated I am now that I can play my much-loved fighting games in a portable device. Slowpoke.jpg, yadda yadda yadda.

King of Fighters '97 running on my crimson/black DS. <3>

If my 12-year younger self were to find a way to get her hands on a handheld gaming device that would let her play arcade-perfect renditions of her beloved King of Fighters games, sans the loading times that plagued the PlayStation console versions, suffice it to say that she would succumb to a state of ecstasy that would rival Saint Therese's.

(It's way better than saying getting a nerdgasm, but hey.)

I'm sorry Ryan, but all arcade versions of Metal Slug can run in my DS perfectly. And oh, Last Blade 2 as well. You can go weep now.

...but I miss you terribly, and that sucks :/