Storage

Still "proof-reading" electronic journal entries from 10 years ago. I'm amazed at how relatively more prolific I was back then. Then again isn't that but one of the expected reactions people would have at reading what they've written from a considerable time in the past? Past writing could either evoke admiration at how apparently so much better one has written in the past, or embarrassment because it is the opposite.

For me it's more of admiration at finding that I was, at least around 2000, not a lazy aspiring writer.

And so again, I have this internal debate on whether it's much better to keep journal entries in electronic vs physical medium.

Electronic copies of course have the advantage of being conveniently stored in physically small storage devices. Much better is that they can be edited and read much more cleanly—no strikeout marks, no illegible texts, etc.

On the other hand, there's this fear that the day may come when all technology fails. A doomsday scenario in which we can't run our computers anymore. Gigabytes upon gigabytes of our data, though safely stored in our disks are suddenly unreadable.

This is not an unlikely fear. I was much convinced of this after reading an article a few years ago (in BBC I think) on how we are at risk of losing data because our electronic storage media themselves are vulnerable to the elements. CD's can be rendered unreadable by a scratch, a hard disk by a speck of dust. I have first hand experience of this after my hard disk crashed on me a few years ago. (Fortunately, I have a backup copy of my more important files.)

Such can't be said of things written on a physical notebook. Here you don't need complex electronics to be able to read—just the minimum pair of eyes, and optionally, an understanding mind. Here if you can overcome decyphering the twisting, sometimes almost illegible writing—something all analog writing is in one way or another liable—you have the information you want.

Which is not to say that writing on paper is better in terms of avoiding data loss. If anything, given that they take up much more physical space to keep and maintain, makes them more prone to the very things that can destroy them. Primarily fires and flood. And secondarily, disorganization—imagine pages of manuscripts dissarranged, shelves of notebooks you can't make sense of because they are misplaced and aren't properly indexed. And imagine making backups of physical files. As bulky and space-consuming as it is to keep the originals, think about keeping at least twice that amount of redundant data in hard copy.

At least this problem is significantly minimized with electronic storage. Sure your disks are vulnerable to scratches and specks of dust, but if you have backups, what is the likelihood of your backup meeting the same fate as your original on the same day?

Text searchability and ease of organization are other advantages I can see with electronic file storage. No matter how well-indexed one's library is, searching for an entry takes time to leaf through. With electronic data searches, given the proper search criteria, relevant results can be obtained at far less time.

And so, at the end of this entry, with some 548 words written so far—I know thanks to the computer's word count function—I still haven't really decided which is better. Although I'll admit that in recent years I've made it a point to write exclusively on physical notebooks.

So if one day you find yourself in my room, you'll see this modest pile of notebooks that throughout the years I have filled with my semi-legible handwriting—and quite some few I'm yet to.

Cocoa Tree With Fruit

If I hadn't turned out to be doing what I am now doing for a living, I would have probably been involved in something that has to do with agriculture. Seriously. If I remember correctly, I even listed Forestry as a second or third choice for a course to take back when I was applying for college.

We raised quite a handful of animals in our yard back in my childhood—well, chickens and pigeons, aside from the cats that we've always had since I can remember.

What we had a lot of were trees. We had two guava trees, two mango trees, a coconut tree, sampaloc (tamarind), guyabano (soursop), papaya, cainito, chesa (canistel), alatires (I don't know what it's called in your language), and quite some others. Then there are the small vegetable and flower gardens we kept on some of the small plots of earth that we can spare.

This was years ago, when there were still open expanses of unpaved earth in our backyard. Way before the general area where we live was known to be the urban, commercial center that people now call it.

Anyway, what this is about is that, for all the plants and trees that used to grow in our yard, now, after these many years, there remains only one tree standing. It is this cocoa tree I personally planted in 1991. Its seed itself was given to me from the province—Cebu, unless I'm much mistaken—by one of our tennants.



As years passed, financial needs—among other reasons—drove us to have the trees cut down and plants cleared off to make way for various structures. Around 2006 there stood only three, and when typhoon Milenyo (international name: Xangsane) struck, and the remaining mango tree was nearly uprooted, with a branch falling on our roof, my mother decided to have the whole tree cut down.

Well, that was the agreement. I was opposed to any tree-killing around here in the first place, but with the typhoon damage, we had no choice. I had a feeling then that Mom wanted to do away with all the trees altogether—because then there would be no fallen leaves to have to sweep off the ground, no fallen leaves to clog the roof gutters.

But I said no. In particular I didn't want her to touch my cocoa tree. I had an attachment to it, having planted it myself, unlike all the trees that we used to have which were already growing when we got here. I might have even issued a threat or another at that time, but I don't remember now.

Anyway, as it turned out, after we children conceded to have the mango tree chopped down, Mom had the star apple tree cut down as well—which was sneaky of her, as we'd only agreed on the mango tree.

I was furious for a time, but there was really nothing more I could do about it. And anyway, she didn't touch my cocoa tree, and so it is even now the only tree in our yard—just because it's my tree.



And it's now bearing fruit... the second time, actually.

I count it as a good thing, because according to who gave it to me, it would mature and bear fruit at two years old. In this case, it didn't (probably because I didn't plant it on good soil; it's mostly gravelly where it is).

It took 10 some years before a single fruit developed, and even on that first time the fruit disappeared right before it ripened. We don't know what happened to it. Could have been stolen, or eaten/taken by birds perhaps.

This time, though, there are two fruits. I was able to take a picture of the more easily to spot of them, and post it here.