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Creatively constipated? Catatonic? Clueless? Here’s a mental exercise. Write yourself a story by answering a series of questions. Story Writing Kit, today’s Emotional Weather Report in the Star.

My friend, his sisters, their husbands and children, and their 80-year-old father, had their summer vacation in Florida. They trooped to the Universal Studios theme park for their adrenaline thrills. First they did the Back to the Future virtual reality ride, in which the course is a series of images on a screen. Everyone enjoyed that.

Next they did The Mummy, an intense rollercoaster ride that made them feel like their stomachs were about to come out of their noses. At the end of it everyone was nauseous, dizzy, throwing up, or all of the above. Everyone but the 80-year-old patriarch. He looked upon his clan and scoffed, “What’s the problem? It’s only virtual reality! It’s just images on a screen!”

They decided not to tell him that the rollercoaster was real.

A question I first heard after the Columbine shooting.

In his review of Are We Rome? The Fall of America and the Fate of An Empire by Cullen Murphy, Tim Heffernan offers a quick comparison of the two empires. “Governments begin to fail when they lose sight of all that’s going on under their watch. Rome got too big physically; we’ve become too complex operationally. Or, to use Murphy’s taut phrase, “Bureaucracy is the new geography.”

“Rome sought ever-increasing military might, a goal that emptied the treasuries and led military affairs to define the purpose of the Roman government — exactly what Eisenhower was talking about when he warned of the military-industrial complex. . .”

…is no longer an oxymoron.

Environmentally-sound production, minimal environmental waste, materials recycled from landfills, fair trade jobs that employ local communities so they won’t poach endangered wildlife, raw materials with low carbon footprints, pollution prevention methods. Consider ethical retail therapy.

Where did I put that bag made of recycled ketchup foil packs?

I learned a new word: Oh-la-la.

“Have you met my boyfriend?” said Jan. “He’s oh-la-la.”

“As in fabulous?” I asked.

“No, as in O, lalakad na ang jeep (the dispatcher at the jeepney terminal). I swear when he’s standing by the gate mukha siyang Akyat Bahay Gang.”

Roger Federer is homing in on that dream final against Rafael Nadal. But there is something The Fed can’t do: sing. Watch Laundry Room Karaoke at the French Open.  Worst singer dishonors go to Novak Djokovic for his excruciating rendition of I Will Survive. And the spectacle of Fabrice Santoro singing the theme from Titanic is something I’ll pass on.

For those who wonder what Mark The Scud Philippoussis is doing: he’s starring on a reality dating show. Is this a good thing? Was it ten years ago that my friend and I aspired to be towel girls on the Australian Davis Cup team? (I preferred Croatia but Goran wasn’t playing) Meanwhile, Paradorn Srichaphan is marrying a former Miss Universe.