Pacman Pounds the Hitman

The Hitman hit the canvass as Manny Pacquiao showed the world anew who the king of the ring really is. Man! It was one of the best fights I’ve ever seen. Gave new meaning to the phrase sweet and short.

I was a bit worried because I saw Ricky Hatton’s previous fights and let’s face it, Floyd Mayweather Sr.’s taunts can sometimes get under one’s skin. He has never been known for his modesty, sarcoidosis notwithstanding. And Hatton has been one solid bloke with a shining and shimmering boxing record.

But our Manny is no underdog. He has an outstanding record and he has hurt some of the best boxers in the land. When Manny came in wearing a smile, I was somehow appeased. He looked relaxed while Hatton looked so intense, sporting a glare reminiscent of the now familiar Jayke Joson’s look found in almost every Pacman photo op. I wondered if he was being smug about something.

Then it all began. When Hatton fell down after missing a left hook and getting a smashing right from Manny, I was excited but not too confident because it wasn’t the best of punches from the Filipino pride. But when he fell down the second time in the same round, I was a bit relaxed.

The second round came in a blur and what followed was yet another air-punching moment as Manny drove a left hook and Hatton on his butt and on his back eventually. It was awesome! I love the shot. I love the timing. The force was magnificent! But it cut the fight too soon. Darn! I wanted more! But it was great all the same. And I understood what Manny was so smug about. He handled it soooo well.

Manny kicked the Brit’s butt and the butts of all his fans, some of whom were waving the Philippine flag upside down in the MGM Grand Garden Arena in Las Vegas. I am pretty sure they’ve a newfound respect for Manny Pacquaio now. Hatton’s fans still sang Hatton’s anthem even when Referee Joe Cortez proclaimed Floyd Mayweather Jr as the winner in the fight that used to be the only one where the Hitman lost. But when Pacquiao won earlier, they looked dumbfounded. Didn’t expect it, did you? And not that fast, huh?

I was just disgusted with Martin Nievera’s singing of the National Anthem. It was out of tune, out of sync and outta here. The National Historical Institute have yet another sermon to give. They should talk to both Nievera and Ney Dimaculangan (6 Cyclemind vocalist—the band’s the main Tanduay endorser, and Tanduay was the main sponsor of the Donaire fight that’s why). I mean, I don’t like it that our song is so rigid with rules and all that, unlike the freewheeling but more heartfelt Star Spangled Banner but it is our song and there is a specific way of how it should be sung.

I wonder if Ricky Hatton will do another Fatton after this fight.

Manny Pacquiao must be reeling. I know I am. He has once again done the Pinoys all over the world proud. Oh, and I hope the vultures who left Batasan for photo ops with the guy will now get back to work.

Way to go, Pacman! Next stop—Valero or Mayweather Jr.

Filipino, Filipino, Filipino ang lahi ko!

Dachshund

One of my greatest pet peeves is hearing people mispronounce this particular breed of dog’s name. The Dachshund. It’s not dash-yand! It’s not das-shund! And it’s NOT dutch-hound for crying out loud!

I’m a true-blue dog lover. I have a purebred German Shepherd Dog named Sasha. She’s 11 months old. I also have 2 adult mongrels and 1 mongrel pup. Ever since I was a kid, I have always had a dog. My father wasn’t exactly into purebreds but we’ve always had dogs of mixed breed in the house.

Last year, I was invited (they didn’t have a choice! I was always in the vet clinic!) to join a local canine club. They needed an extra pair of hands to help organize their dog show, that’s why. I was bored and I wanted to see the dogs in the city gathered in one place so I readily agreed! I prepared the program, the certificates, the awards and what-nots. Baptism of fire! And all in less than one week! I also had to be the emcee. Now, I’m a behind-the-scenes person. I hate being in the spotlight, much less talking on a microphone, with people who don’t know me. Perhaps it’s because I get the kick out of laughing at people’s mistakes when they do the thing that I was supposed to do then. Well, don’t we all have guilty pleasures? It’s easier to see other people’s mistakes, right? Come on, admit it! Get real! LOL.

But I had a mission. I wanted to let people know how Dachshund is pronounced. I asked one of the vets in the clinic where I used to hang out how he pronounces Dachshund and he told me that he didn’t use it because people would always look at him funny every time he did. So he opted to just use the more popular way of pronouncing it—which is really not doing anybody any good!

Not a single doxie was pre-registered. But I was really hoping that on the day itself, there’d be walk-in registrants. To my utter dismay, none of them came.

So I hope I can still rectify whatever errors in pronunciation we have when it comes to this cute doggies by blogging all about it. We owe it to them. Really! As I said in one of my older posts, the best way to show respect is to pronounce one’s name correctly—or in this case, its breed’s name.

dachshund — dak sund; däks-ˌhu̇nd DAHKS-hund

It is an Anglicized German word. According to Merriam-Webster, it comes from the German words: Dachs (pronounced as Daks) and Hund (pronounced as Hund, like gunned, stunned). Dachs means badger. Hund means dog.

Spread the word! If people look at you funny and you are not comfortable in being the object of such, just say Doxie!

Bon Voyage, Kiko Part Deux

Earlier today, Francis “Kiko” Magalona’s remains were cremated.  He is getting recognition here and there—now that he’s gone.  Too late, huh?  I’ve always followed the man’s life in awe.  I’ve been reading his blog and I’ve been telling my mom about his brilliantly designed shirts and about how cute his kids are, especially Arkin who has played young Dingdong Dantes in Dyesebel and Ang Babaeng Hinugot sa Aking Tadyang, and how amazing it is that people don’t even know that their first two kids are not biologically his but Pia’s alone because Kiko never treated them differently and how nationalistic and patriotic he has been.   And now, he’s gone.  Now, people are also reading his blog.  People are now wearing his shirt.  People now know that he has eight kids. He is also getting awards for his nationalism and love of country.  Más vale tarde que nunca.

In these cold summer nights, I offer you these three songs:

Three Stars And A Sun
Three stars and a sun, in one sky, so high,
I live and die and die will I for my
Motherland this is the land of my birth,
No purse is worth the price of this earth
Can we rise, can we all, hell no!,
Or should we all just take the fall?
Bless the man if his heart and his land are one
…3 stars & a sun!
3 stars & a sun! I’m ready to defend the 3 stars & a sun!
Omission to a mission, transport for the brain,
Packed w/ stacks of tracks built for a train,
I eat lead, but I never let it be said,
“He said, she said,” it makes me see red
‘Cuz I don’t take bullshit & I’m ‘a pack it and push it,
And hit you w/ the full clip
Switch to mode lock-’n'-load in the land of Juan
…the 3 stars & a sun!
3 stars & a sun! I’m ready to defend the 3 stars & a sun!
Bahay kubo kahit munti, may pula,
Bughaw, dilaw, atsaka puti
There is a need to sow the seed,
Toil the soil and plod until your hands bleed
‘Cuz this land is sacred,
Many a battle have been fought with hatred
Don’t tell me that you understand,
It’s been 4 hundred years of tears
For the brown man,
Still and all the fight has just begun
…3 stars & a sun!
3 stars & a sun! I’m ready to defend the 3 stars & a sun!
Kaleidoscope World
So many faces, so many races
Different voices, different choices
Some are mad, while others laugh
Some live alone with no better half
Others grieve while others curse
And others mourn behind a big black hearse
Some are pure and some half-bred
Some are sober and some are wasted
Some are rich because of fate and
Some are poor with no food on their plate
Some stand out while others blend
Some are fat and stout while some are thin
Some are friends and some are foes
Some have some while some have most
Every color and every hue
Is represented by me and you
Take a slide in the slope
Take a look in the kaleidoscope
Spinnin’ round, make it twirl
In this kaleidoscope world
Some are great and some are few
Others lie while some tell the truth
Some say poems and some do sing
Others sing through their guitar strings
Some know it all while some act dumb
Let the bassline strum to the bang of the drum
Some can swim while some will sink
And some will find their minds and think
Others walk while others run
You can’t talk peace and have a gun
Some are hurt and start to cry
Don’t ask me how don’t ask me why
Some are friends and some are foes
Some have some while some have most
Every color and every hue
Is represented by me and you
Take a slide in the slope
Take a look in the kaleidoscope
Spinnin’ round, make it twirl
In this kaleidoscope world

Cold Summer Nights
I keep on blaming my self
I should have eaten my pride
how can i convince you
its just a matter of time

many times i’ve hurt you
with my foolish ways oh girl
now i know i have to pay the price

is there a way for u to turn around,
turn around and come back baby
ohh baby cant u see

CHORUS:
its been cold summer nights since we drifted apart
cold summer nights since you walked out that door
cold summer nights here on my own
coz i miss you baby, i need you here

RAP:
cold summer nights girl, i really miss you
you rocked my world
i wanna touch you and kiss you
its my fault
i never called you at home
i’m on the phone, wishing you could call
i’m all alone
is there a way for you to turn around and
come back to me
i hope you understand
that i’m your man and together we can
kiss and make up
‘coz you know i cant stand

Repeat Chorus

Bon Voyage, Kiko

I am still in a daze.

Francis Magalona is dead.

He succumbed to Acute Myelogenous Leukemia with Mixed Lineage at 12 noon today, as announced by Vic Sotto in Eat Bulaga.  He, together with the other hosts of the show, asked for a moment of silence to pray for the eternal repose of Kiko’s soul.

He had a close call in December when he had septic shock.  The cause of his death is still undisclosed.

Kiko/FrancisM is survived by his wife Pia Arroyo and their children—Unna, Nicolo, Francis Jr., Isabella, Maxene, Elmo, Arkin, and Clara.   I pray for the kids.  I hope Pia will remain strong.

Condolence to the Magalona family.

Bon voyage, Kiko, you will be sorely missed.

To Birit or Not to Birit

This is long overdue but I never found the inspiration to finish my entry until now. I had been listening to Regine Velasquez’s Low Key album (I love it!) when I remembered about the draft that has been sitting in my blog for months.

I was never a huge Regine fan but I went to one of her concerts in the UP Theater in the late 90s.  It was sponsored by one of the orgs in the university and one of my dormmates who was a member of that org urged me to buy a ticket and watch it with them.  And boy, was I glad I did.  Not only can Regine hit those unbelievably high notes, she can really be very engaging.  She’s funny and she’s warm.  So while I still cringe every time I hear the last line of her I Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing version, I still admire her big time.

During those times, Regine had the monopoly of the belting arena, with her vein-bursting songs and by hitting those sky-high notes in the local scene.  Watching her do it live leaves one’s mouth gaping and fly-hungry.  Yes, Dulce was already there.  So were Ivy Violan, Dessa, and all those ‘biriters’.   But Regine was different at that time.  She owned the stage and she carved her own niche in the music industry from that time on.  She was the star.  She was the queen.

Through the years, Regine has somehow matured.  While she still goes for those skyscraping notes, blame it on the arrangers, she has now slowly mastered the more melodic and easier-to-the-ears kind of music.  Her music now is cool and minty.  Low Key, the album, is amazing, for lack of better nomenclature.  Me likey!  On her TV performances, she still taps those high notes with her pipes but it’s not as eardrum shattering as it used to be.

Dulce, on the other hand, seemingly busts her vocal chords but not really.  I mean, way back in the late 80s and all through the early 90s, in singing competitions, almost always, Ako ang Nagwagi is a part of the repertoire. When Dulce sings, everybody listens, mouth agape and all.  I heard her sing a few months ago and boy, she can really SING!  There’s something special with the way she sings.  She definitely has a very wide vocal range because when she goes baritone, she really goes baritone!

Then came Lani Misalucha, Bituin Escalante, Sheryn Regis, etc.  These days, we have Charice Pempengco, Sarah Geronimo, Kyla, Rachel Ann Go, and all those singers who make a living by testing the malleability and the elasticity of their jugular veins.  Even young kids who try out for those songfests stretch those vocal chords to their limits.  People think that a good singer is measured by the pitch of his/her voice.  Singers who don’t do a Jennifer Hudson do not get that much applause these days.  Which is sad because they too sing really well.

Come to think of it, this is the same for music industries all across the globe.

I mean, I am in awe of those who can really belt out a difficult song and all but I respect those who can hit all those notes well, low as they may be, as well.  Perhaps, it’s best if we can appreciate all genres and kinds of music.  I mean, I have an eclectic taste.  I like the soothing variety, as well as the upbeat ones, even those that are headback inducing and those that seem to signal the awakening of the dead.  It’s a pity that aspiring singers these days gear towards a single direction.  And it’s not exactly voice box-friendly.  It ain’t called belting for nothing, after all.

Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground

I’m a sucker for really nice TV series music.  Here’s one from 13th episode of the second season of Private Practice.

It’s a song by Beth Rowley.   She is a British singer who was born in Peru.

If you had not’ve fallen
Then I would not have found you
Angel flying too close to the ground
But I patched up your broken wings
And hung around a while
Kept your spirits up and your fever down

I knew someday that you would fly away
Cause love’s the greatest healer to be found
So leave me if you need to, but I will still remember
Angel flying too close to the ground

If you had not’ve fallen,
than I would not’ve found you
Angel flying too close to the ground
I patched up your broken wings
And hung around a while
Kept your spirits up and your fever down

I know someday that you will fly away
Cause love’s the greatest healer to be found
So leave me if you need to, but I will still remember
Angel flying too close to the ground

So fly, fly on past the speed of sound
Ohh, rather see you up than see you down
So leave me if you need to and I will still remember
Angel flying too close to the ground

So leave me if you need to and I will still remember
Angel flying too close to the ground

A Grateful Nation

“Please accept this flag on behalf of a grateful nation.”

I love Las Vegas, the TV series.  I hope they’ll have another run.  It’s a long shot but hey, a lot of things happen in Vegas.  I believe it deserves a million seasons to cover all the colorful things that happen in that very eventful golden land.  The Bold and the Beautiful has been there since time immemorial, so why shouldn’t Las Vegas be eternally airing? Yeah, yeah, it’s a soap but ya know what I mean.

Anyway, I was watching one of the episodes of Las Vegas where Det. Luis Perez dies in Iraq and the gang attends his memorial service.  With Bob Dylan’s Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door playing in the background, the scene was very heavy.  He was in Iraq for just a week and off he went knockin’ on heaven’s door! Ok, so when the camera panned to focus the men in uniform fold the flag, the whole scene got heavier.  One of them handed it to his mother and uttered those words, I shed a tear (I know it comes as no surprise, I am silly, I cry at the movies and while watching even a not-so-tearjerker, so bite me! But this one’s really worth the tearduct exercise.).

I wonder how, in real life, a grieving widow or a girlfriend or the mother and father, the friends, or the young orphans in the US who has/have lost a childhood sweetheart or son or brother or sister or friend or parent feel upon hearing that line.  I’m sure it’s just as painful no matter how big the gratitude of the nation is. Watching a memorial service is always moving, and more so if it’s for soldiers who have honorably fought for peace (ironic, I know!) and freedom, and while it is very heartwarming to hear such big words, it makes me wonder if it was all worth it.  If this war’s worth it.

But regardless of everything, wherever we are in the world, it’s sad.  It’s really sad.  Yeah, my eyes are still wet.

Hail to the (New) Chief!

I’m no Obama fan (if I get the time to really get down to it, I’ll prolly scribble a few lines as to why I’m not exactly jumping up and down my seat for the guy) but hey, today’s really something else.  It’s still a milestone and I’m all for equal opportunities so his victory demands a celebration.  It’s not just about him anyway.

President Elect Barack Hussein Obama took the presidential oath of office to become the 44th President of the United States of America, after pausing and stumbling on the first few words, and the first African-American to hold such position.  It brings to mind the final episode of one of my favorite TV series: The West Wing.

Pres. Obama is a celebrated speaker and writer and so people have been joyfully anticipating what he’s going to say in his inaugural address.  Credit must also go to the youngest presidential speechwriter ever, Jon Favreau who wrote his first draft of today’s speech in Starbucks  in D.C.    “Favs” is now my new fave!

Ok, this doesn’t exactly go up into the pantheon of rhetorical magnificence (I like his much longer speech in Philly after that hoopla on Rev. Wright’s outbursts) but the fact that it was delivered on that major turning point in the history of the US, and of the world, is greatness in itself.

I think I’ve used the word president far too many times.  But who cares!  It’s a day of goosebumps.

So, here goes:

Transcript of Pres. Obama’s inaugural address:

My fellow citizens:

I stand here today humbled by the task before us, grateful for the trust you have bestowed, mindful of the sacrifices borne by our ancestors. I thank President Bush for his service to our nation, as well as the generosity and cooperation he has shown throughout this transition.

Forty-four Americans have now taken the presidential oath. The words have been spoken during rising tides of prosperity and the still waters of peace. Yet, every so often the oath is taken amidst gathering clouds and raging storms. At these moments, America has carried on not simply because of the skill or vision of those in high office, but because We the People have remained faithful to the ideals of our forbearers, and true to our founding documents.

So it has been. So it must be with this generation of Americans.

That we are in the midst of crisis is now well understood. Our nation is at war, against a far-reaching network of violence and hatred. Our economy is badly weakened, a consequence of greed and irresponsibility on the part of some, but also our collective failure to make hard choices and prepare the nation for a new age. Homes have been lost; jobs shed; businesses shuttered. Our health care is too costly; our schools fail too many; and each day brings further evidence that the ways we use energy strengthen our adversaries and threaten our planet.

These are the indicators of crisis, subject to data and statistics. Less measurable but no less profound is a sapping of confidence across our land – a nagging fear that America’s decline is inevitable, and that the next generation must lower its sights.

Today I say to you that the challenges we face are real. They are serious and they are many.

They will not be met easily or in a short span of time. But know this, America – they will be met. On this day, we gather because we have chosen hope over fear, unity of purpose over conflict and discord.

On this day, we come to proclaim an end to the petty grievances and false promises, the recriminations and worn out dogmas, that for far too long have strangled our politics.

We remain a young nation, but in the words of Scripture, the time has come to set aside childish things. The time has come to reaffirm our enduring spirit; to choose our better history; to carry forward that precious gift, that noble idea, passed on from generation to generation: the God-given promise that all are equal, all are free, and all deserve a chance to pursue their full measure of happiness.

In reaffirming the greatness of our nation, we understand that greatness is never a given. It must be earned. Our journey has never been one of short-cuts or settling for less. It has not been the path for the faint-hearted – for those who prefer leisure over work, or seek only the pleasures of riches and fame. Rather, it has been the risk-takers, the doers, the makers of things – some celebrated but more often men and women obscure in their labor, who have carried us up the long, rugged path towards prosperity and freedom.

For us, they packed up their few worldly possessions and traveled across oceans in search of a new life.

For us, they toiled in sweatshops and settled the West; endured the lash of the whip and plowed the hard earth.

For us, they fought and died, in places like Concord and Gettysburg; Normandy and Khe Sahn. Time and again these men and women struggled and sacrificed and worked till their hands were raw so that we might live a better life. They saw America as bigger than the sum of our individual ambitions; greater than all the differences of birth or wealth or faction.

This is the journey we continue today. We remain the most prosperous, powerful nation on Earth. Our workers are no less productive than when this crisis began. Our minds are no less inventive, our goods and services no less needed than they were last week or last month or last year. Our capacity remains undiminished. But our time of standing pat, of protecting narrow interests and putting off unpleasant decisions – that time has surely passed. Starting today, we must pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and begin again the work of remaking America.

For everywhere we look, there is work to be done. The state of the economy calls for action, bold and swift, and we will act – not only to create new jobs, but to lay a new foundation for growth. We will build the roads and bridges, the electric grids and digital lines that feed our commerce and bind us together. We will restore science to its rightful place, and wield technology’s wonders to raise health care’s quality and lower its cost. We will harness the sun and the winds and the soil to fuel our cars and run our factories. And we will transform our schools and colleges and universities to meet the demands of a new age. All this we can do. And all this we will do.

Now, there are some who question the scale of our ambitions – who suggest that our system cannot tolerate too many big plans. Their memories are short. For they have forgotten what this country has already done; what free men and women can achieve when imagination is joined to common purpose, and necessity to courage.

What the cynics fail to understand is that the ground has shifted beneath them – that the stale political arguments that have consumed us for so long no longer apply. The question we ask today is not whether our government is too big or too small, but whether it works – whether it helps families find jobs at a decent wage, care they can afford, a retirement that is dignified. Where the answer is yes, we intend to move forward. Where the answer is no, programs will end. And those of us who manage the public’s dollars will be held to account – to spend wisely, reform bad habits, and do our business in the light of day – because only then can we restore the vital trust between a people and their government.

Nor is the question before us whether the market is a force for good or ill. Its power to generate wealth and expand freedom is unmatched, but this crisis has reminded us that without a watchful eye, the market can spin out of control – and that a nation cannot prosper long when it favors only the prosperous. The success of our economy has always depended not just on the size of our Gross Domestic Product, but on the reach of our prosperity; on our ability to extend opportunity to every willing heart – not out of charity, but because it is the surest route to our common good.

As for our common defense, we reject as false the choice between our safety and our ideals. Our Founding Fathers, faced with perils we can scarcely imagine, drafted a charter to assure the rule of law and the rights of man, a charter expanded by the blood of generations. Those ideals still light the world, and we will not give them up for expedience’s sake. And so to all other peoples and governments who are watching today, from the grandest capitals to the small village where my father was born: know that America is a friend of each nation and every man, woman, and child who seeks a future of peace and dignity, and that we are ready to lead once more.

Recall that earlier generations faced down fascism and communism not just with missiles and tanks, but with sturdy alliances and enduring convictions. They understood that our power alone cannot protect us, nor does it entitle us to do as we please. Instead, they knew that our power grows through its prudent use; our security emanates from the justness of our cause, the force of our example, the tempering qualities of humility and restraint.

We are the keepers of this legacy. Guided by these principles once more, we can meet those new threats that demand even greater effort – even greater cooperation and understanding between nations. We will begin to responsibly leave Iraq to its people, and forge a hard-earned peace in Afghanistan. With old friends and former foes, we will work tirelessly to lessen the nuclear threat, and roll back the specter of a warming planet. We will not apologize for our way of life, nor will we waver in its defense, and for those who seek to advance their aims by inducing terror and slaughtering innocents, we say to you now that our spirit is stronger and cannot be broken; you cannot outlast us, and we will defeat you.

For we know that our patchwork heritage is a strength, not a weakness. We are a nation of Christians and Muslims, Jews and Hindus – and non-believers. We are shaped by every language and culture, drawn from every end of this Earth; and because we have tasted the bitter swill of civil war and segregation, and emerged from that dark chapter stronger and more united, we cannot help but believe that the old hatreds shall someday pass; that the lines of tribe shall soon dissolve; that as the world grows smaller, our common humanity shall reveal itself; and that America must play its role in ushering in a new era of peace.

To the Muslim world, we seek a new way forward, based on mutual interest and mutual respect.

To those leaders around the globe who seek to sow conflict, or blame their society’s ills on the West – know that your people will judge you on what you can build, not what you destroy. To those who cling to power through corruption and deceit and the silencing of dissent, know that you are on the wrong side of history; but that we will extend a hand if you are willing to unclench your fist.

To the people of poor nations, we pledge to work alongside you to make your farms flourish and let clean waters flow; to nourish starved bodies and feed hungry minds. And to those nations like ours that enjoy relative plenty, we say we can no longer afford indifference to suffering outside our borders; nor can we consume the world’s resources without regard to effect. For the world has changed, and we must change with it.

As we consider the road that unfolds before us, we remember with humble gratitude those brave Americans who, at this very hour, patrol far-off deserts and distant mountains. They have something to tell us today, just as the fallen heroes who lie in Arlington whisper through the ages.

We honor them not only because they are guardians of our liberty, but because they embody the spirit of service; a willingness to find meaning in something greater than themselves. And yet, at this moment – a moment that will define a generation – it is precisely this spirit that must inhabit us all.

For as much as government can do and must do, it is ultimately the faith and determination of the American people upon which this nation relies. It is the kindness to take in a stranger when the levees break, the selflessness of workers who would rather cut their hours than see a friend lose their job which sees us through our darkest hours. It is the firefighter’s courage to storm a stairway filled with smoke, but also a parent’s willingness to nurture a child, that finally decides our fate.

Our challenges may be new. The instruments with which we meet them may be new. But those values upon which our success depends – hard work and honesty, courage and fair play, tolerance and curiosity, loyalty and patriotism – these things are old. These things are true. They have been the quiet force of progress throughout our history. What is demanded then is a return to these truths. What is required of us now is a new era of responsibility – a recognition, on the part of every American, that we have duties to ourselves, our nation, and the world, duties that we do not grudgingly accept but rather seize gladly, firm in the knowledge that there is nothing so satisfying to the spirit, so defining of our character, than giving our all to a difficult task.

This is the price and the promise of citizenship.

This is the source of our confidence – the knowledge that God calls on us to shape an uncertain destiny.

This is the meaning of our liberty and our creed – why men and women and children of every race and every faith can join in celebration across this magnificent mall, and why a man whose father less than sixty years ago might not have been served at a local restaurant can now stand before you to take a most sacred oath.

So let us mark this day with remembrance, of who we are and how far we have traveled. In the year of America’s birth, in the coldest of months, a small band of patriots huddled by dying campfires on the shores of an icy river. The capital was abandoned. The enemy was advancing. The snow was stained with blood. At a moment when the outcome of our revolution was most in doubt, the father of our nation ordered these words be read to the people:

“Let it be told to the future world…that in the depth of winter, when nothing but hope and virtue could survive…that the city and the country, alarmed at one common danger, came forth to meet [it].”

America. In the face of our common dangers, in this winter of our hardship, let us remember these timeless words. With hope and virtue, let us brave once more the icy currents, and endure what storms may come. Let it be said by our children’s children that when we were tested we refused to let this journey end, that we did not turn back nor did we falter; and with eyes fixed on the horizon and God’s grace upon us, we carried forth that great gift of freedom and delivered it safely to future generations.

Jumping to Conclusions — Part 2

So the verdict’s out, at least from Valley Golf and Country Club.  Delfin Dela Paz expelled, young Pangandamans banned, and Department of Agrarian Reform Secretary Nasser Pangandaman Sr. suspended for two years.  Apparently, the management, after having conducted a thorough internal investigation found out that it was indeed Delfin Dela Paz who started the ruckus when he poked Nasser Jr. with his folded umbrella, one which was open when the heated argument started, by the way.

Ok, I’ve heard so many people side with the dela Pazes after having read Bambee dela Paz’s heartwrenching blog entry.  Can’t blame them.  Even Ms. Lea Salonga apologized for jumping to conclusions right away “in fanning the flames without objectivity and the open ear to hear all sides of the story.“

I don’t want to discount the possibility that there were some powerplay in the process of the investigation.  There will be people who will think that way automatically.  The people involved in the scuffle will also try to save face to their public.

With this, a multitude of lawsuits will fly from one side to the other.  But I guess we can now leave it to the (i pray!) incorruptible justice system.  We can probably refocus now on more important issues at hand, such as the RH bill, perhaps?  Or the Cha-Cha?

Perhaps, the most important lesson here is that we should never be too quick to judge.  Whatever the race, religion, sociopolitical and economic status, every person deserves his/her day in court.

Another thing to consider is the fact that blogging is very powerful.  While we do have the freedom to express ourselves, it’s best to exercise caution when we talk about other people.  It’s so easy to get heady in hitting those keys.

Boring

It’s been a million years since I last blogged.  I’m not sure if I have become more boring or what.  Not that I write with the idea of entertaining people in mind.  I talk to myself because I’m on my own most of the time and since that makes me sound crazier than I already am, I decided to just blog away every now and then.

I’m not a good blogger because I can’t keep my thoughts together.  I digress more often than I should and I find myself talking about something else in less than 5 seconds.  Which is exactly what I’m doing right now.

But rereading what I just wrote and what one guest said about me, I guess I overdid my hiatus.  Hehe.  Or maybe I gave myself more credit by thinking I wasn’t boring before my self-imposed break.  Oh well.  C’est la vie.

Men Should Act Like Men–How?

The first time I caught a glimpse of the Colt45 ad, I did a double take.  A woman in a two-piece swimsuit is admired by the guys in the beach but one of their friends say she would’ve looked better had she chosen different colors or something like that.  And then his friends look at him funny and a big beer bottle lands on him from nowhere and I guess it’s safe to assume that he gets buried in the sand.

My niece, who saw my reaction and understood what I was thinking, told me there’s another one from Colt45, and that one was worse.  Indeed!

Four (not sure if there’s 4 of them) men are watching a game on TV when one of the guys’ phone rings, he goes out to take it and says he missed whoever is calling in a cooing manner.  And then the big beer bottle does its thing again.

Ok, let me think it over.  Who the hell came up with the concept?  Who, in this age of sexual revolution, gender sensitivity and call for equality, came up with an ad that makes people take a 180-degree turn? I know all about classical conditioning and the power of the media.  It may sound frivolous but it’s very powerful.  Reminds me so much of the Marlboro Man.  You know how its subtle depiction of a man–a cowboy romanticized–has influenced the smoking habits of millions of people?  I mean, it’s subtle but it’s there.  You can’t miss it.  And now this?

I have a close friend who is a kick-ass graphics guy.  He knows magenta, teal, burgundy, mauve and those other colors in between.  He can name them all better than I can.  And he can be the worst critic in the land when it comes to hairstyles, clothes and makeup.  I have news for you, he’s no softie.  But does that mean he’s not acting the way real men should?

As a woman, I would always want a guy who can say he loves me any time and be all cheesy every now and then.  I’m sure all women could relate to that “want”.  I’m not one of those who like to torment their men by asking them to say i-love-yous over the phone loud enough for their friends and family to hear to test if they’re “proud” of the feeling or if they honestly love them.  No, that’s overboard.  That’s so juvenile.

Colt45, the beer, is strong.  Well, for me, at least.  It’s the kind of beer that you can drink a lot of when nothing else is on stock, on one of those drinking sessions with friends, and get a really bad hangover the morning after.  I mean, I’m speaking for myself but I know quite a few who feel the same.

If it wants to sport a macho look, I get it.  But they could’ve done something better.  Why go this low?

Jumping to Conclusions

I wonder why people jump to conclusions far too quickly.  I first read about the melee at a golf course in Antipolo that the Secretary of the Department of Agrarian Reform Nasser Pangandaman figured in from a tabloid.  Yep, I read the tabloids because I like my news unsanitized.  There’s something about this kind of journalism that pumps my blood.  But that’s another story.

So, I read, well, more of scanned, the story.  I wasn’t particularly interested in people fighting in some fancy place when there are lots of more interesting stories to read about, like Hayden Kho’s  homemade porn story for one–err–well, yeah, and a lot more.  Indeed the news about a DAR bigwig’s son who happens to be a mayor of a town in Mindanao accused of mauling someone in a clubhouse was a tad too distracting–not the kind of distraction that one would most likely appreciate on a holiday where everything is splashed with a frenzy of eating, catching up and lazing away.

Where was I? Oh, the messy golf fight.  And I thought they only do those messy ones in clubs not entirely related to golf.  Oh well.  So, I scanned the story.  And I figured, yeah, the Pangandamans did it.  Why?  They’re powerful.  They had bodyguards.  They had guns.  They did it.  They’re Muslims after all.

Then I see Mr. Delfin dela Paz sporting a seemingly rehearsed agonized look on TV every newsflash or two.  I cringe.  There’s something about this guy and with what he has been saying that simply don’t add up.

Then I see another glimpse of Sec. Pangandaman and his son.  Glimpse.  Because they didn’t really stay that long in front of the cameras.  Something about them made me want to know the three sides of the story: that of the Dela Pazes, that of the Pangandamans, and the truth.

So I read Bambee dela Paz’s heartwrenching blog entry.

The mayor of Masiu City, Lanao del Sur talks with my dad. Things get heated up. Voices were raised. But never, in my wildest dreams, did I ever imagine that someone would pull out a punch.  Apparently not [sic]. He attacks my father. His flightmates, maybe 2 or 3 of them, rush to his aid and beat up my father. My 56-year-old father. My younger brother and I could not just watch. We rushed to break the fight. My younger brother pleads to the mayor to please stop it. To not hurt my dad. To just stop. His words still ring through my head…”Sorry na po, sorry na po…tama na…tama na po…” With his hands in front of his chest in a praying position. PLEADING. The mayor socks him in the face. My brother defended himself. My dad is still on the ground getting clobbered. My brother is the same way. I try to stop the fight, but all I can do is stop one person. There were 4 or 5 of them attacking now.

Pretty telenovelaisc huh.  It sounds very persuasive.  So true.  So real.

There’s something about too much drama that puts me off, really.

Now, the other side of the story. As the writer of the blog entry said,

I am posting the incident that happened at the south course of Valley Golf and Country Club that fateful day of December 26, 2008 between the families of Pangandaman and dela Paz. But this is not Delfin’s and his children’s side; I am retelling the details of the incident here on behalf of the Pangandamans.

Not a first-hand account.  Not really reliable but it provided a significant piece of the puzzle.

And now the so-called recap from the so-called independent investigators of the case.

Look, I’m guilty of jumping into conclusions because the Pangandamans are moneyed, in power and Muslims.  I have always been quick to object when people tend to generalize Muslims as evil, bad and ill-mannered.  I come from a place where they live peacefully as traders.  In grade school, I was friends with kids who taught me languages that amused my parents at home.  We may have drifted apart because we lost contact through the years but I have none in my memory lane that can support the idea that they are not good people.  I have learned to respect those who are different from I am. But whether we admit it or not, we have been marred by society’s prejudice.  And so every now and then, I unconsciously succumb to the same prejudiced thinking. I don’t want to justify it but we are not entirely blameworthy.  The exploits of the Abu Sayyaf, the September 11 bombings in the US and all others are not really helping, are they?  But trust me, it’s not something that I am proud of and every time I can, I try to work on it because deep inside me I know that they do not have the monopoly of being bad.

Having said that, I believe we have just judged the Pangandamans right away because of that.  I’m sure no one would admit so.  I would.  I’m sure in one of those unguarded moments, most of us have either uttered or thought of something about them being guilty because they are Muslims.  Because Muslims can be really fierce–as if non-Muslims don’t get ferocious and reckless in the heat of the moment as well.

I’m not saying that they are not guilty.  But knowing that they have guns, small ones and big ones, and the fact that they practically outnumbered the dela Pazes, I can only surmise that the restraint that they summoned at that time is way beyond commendable.  I mean, let’s face it.  If they wanted to hurt the dela Pazes, they could have done more damage than what has been reported.  And if they wanted to hurt the dela Pazes, why did Hussein, Nasser Pangandaman Sr.’s other son suffer serious injuries as well? They were obviously with their so-called goons.  So why didn’t they let them do the dirty work?  I was moved at the fact that he got involved in the scuffle when the older dela Paz poked his brother with an umbrella.

Come to think of it, the 14-year-old dela Paz hit Hussein with a driver.  If it were in defense, it wouldn’t have fractured the latter’s hand.  And this Bambee girl who has become an overnight sensation because of her tearjerker of a blog entry, didn’t she figure in the fight as well?  Yeah, she defended her dad but how come they never asked the people around them for help?  Or just pull her dad out with all her might?  Or shield him with her own body?  Come on, the normal first move for someone’s companion who has been allegedly mauled is to try to stop the fight, scream or even go between the assailant and the loved one.  Something simply does not add up.  And her story, albeit really poignant the first time you read it, has far too many holes in it.

I am annoyed at how the ages of the older dela Paz and his son are seemingly used to portray them as the underdog.  A 14-year old kid with a good swing is not entirely incapable of doing any damage.  We’ve heard of 8 year olds and 11 year olds who go on shooting frenzy and kill many of their friends in school in cold blood.  I have 8 nephews and nieces.  I know what kids younger than 14 can do.  My mom’s 71.  She still kicks my ass in a lot of things.  My dad, at 74, in his paralyzed condition can still make me feel bad about a million and one things.  And 5-10 years ago, he was still a “terror” in some ways.

But really, what did the golf course’s security people and management do?  I’m sure they didn’t expect such a ruckus to ensue but hey, in this day and age, anything can happen, like wives in their housedresses who storm in with knives from the other side of the fence, for instance.

It’s so easy to say that the Pangandamans have the moral ascendancy because they are public figures.  The same way we look disapprovingly at celebrities who do not smile at their fans after a long day of film shoot, or get annoyed at paparazzi.  The same way we look disapprovingly at clergymen who show some weaker human sides.  Just because they have certain labels and positions in public does not mean they have lost their humanity.  Of course hurting other people is bad, whether one is a public figure or not.  All I’m saying is, nobody’s perfect and as much as we want everybody to be close to perfection, there are certain reactions and stimuli that we simply can’t control all the time.

I want to know the truth.  I may lean towards the Pangandamans now but I still want to know what really happened.  And when the dust clears, I want to see the right thing done.

Yeah, I got hooked on this sappy melodrama as well.  And no, it doesn’t really affect me directly.  However, the idea that every now and then I jump into conclusions because of my own biases or whatnots bothers me a whole lot.  It tells me of the kind of influence my surroundings has on me.  And looking at it from a different angle, it really doesn’t look too nice.

Books, Conspiracy Theories and Cynics

I always encourage my nephews and nieces and any kid that I get to talk to to read. I am pretty sure it’s the only sure route to a million and one destination. I have always been a voracious reader. There’s something about a book that makes me really happy. I’m talking about the good old book that feels really good to the hands. While I read electronic versions of Harry Potter and controversial pieces, there’s something really romantic about the hardcover books, or even the paperbacks. So where am I leading? Conspiracy theories that’s what. Reading far too many of them has somehow made me really cynical about life. Well, in some respects, I think it has also awakened the realist in me but let’s go back to conspiracy theories, assassinations, doubles, espionage, charades, staged events and whatchamacallits.

Still vague, huh?

Well, I’ve been following the Ces Drilon and company drama ever since it was just whispered in some small circles here and there. And with the media coverage that it’s been getting (hello! That’s Ces Drilon!), I couldn’t help but watch the events unfold. I must admit, I never really doubted its authenticity when it first rolled but I got really turned off by the unabashed politicking that squeezed the life out of the story. I was breathless when Angelo Valderama, the assistant camera guy, was released although I thought it was weird that they had to make people believe that it was him who was huddled in that car with the lady vice governor when it wasn’t him. The swagger of the two Isnajis was a major flipper. Their involvement, notwithstanding the fact that their proximity made it their game, really got me thinking about a lot of things. And then when Ces and Jimmy Encarnacion, her cameraman, were released with Jimmy wearing a Love ko Si Mayor pink shirt, I got all the more cut. Of all the shirts that he could have been made to borrow!

And now the rumor mills are at it again. People say it was a farce. That it was staged! Are we that low now?

And is Loren Legarda that big a negotiator for her to add the Drilon and Company kidnapping incident to her list of feats? Not to mention she did this last in the comforts of her office in Luzon? Well, she did have a few people down south to do the legwork for her. But still!

Look, I’m not pointing fingers at anybody. I’m sure you couldn’t fake grief. I feel for their families. Going through something like that is never a breeze. One thing’s for sure. Drilon said so herself. There’s something about the place where they were held captive that drives people to do what they do. The government really has to do something about it. On top of graft and corruption, rice crisis, inflation, gas madness and whatever the hell else.

Let this be a reminder to everyone of us.  Nothing is worth risking our lives for.  Nothing.  And definitely nothing is worth risking other people’s lives for.

Sick Speak

I wanted to smother him with a pillow. My fingers were itching to grab one and push him down with it until he breathes no more. His anguished and most of the time angry screams have fueled that murderous rage in me.

But I couldn’t.

He, in his condition, managed to get drunk and hurled expletives my way because I had the nerve to throw away what was left of the local rhum.  He went on to say that I studied in UP only to achieve nothing in life.  He said I do not have greatness, something that UP people are thought to achieve as they go head on with the world.  And in my sleepless state with one client backing out on me when the bills are piling up, I gripped the corners of the bed mattress opposite his angrily.  I kept telling myself that it was the alcohol and the illness talking but he got to me.  In that very instance, I wished he would die an instantaneous death.  But there were no thunderbolts and he was still morosely glaring at me albeit in silence now.  So I pictured grabbing the pillow that reeked of dried urine so I could kill him with it.

But I didn’t.  I couldn’t.

Regardless of how frustrated I was or how extremely helpless I felt, I couldn’t bear to kill him. What was there to lose? It’s not like he still earns a living. He doesn’t feed me. He is no fun anymore. He can’t even be a great soundboard. And no he no longer gives his solid opinion on things. But I can’t. Couldn’t.  Wouldn’t.

Because despite everything, he’s still my father. He may not be a perfect dad there is and his shortcomings pretty much eat up all the good things that he etched in his life’s record book, he still biologically makes up a huge part of me, and well, politically, socially, emotionally and spiritually too, I suppose.

My father suffered from a major cerebrovascular accident three years ago. We lowly lifeforms call it a stroke. It paralyzed the right side of his body and severely affected his speech. I know of a lot of people who got over something like this. There are others who even taught their functioning body parts to do most of the job. Some practically rose from the ashes to become newer and better versions of themselves.

But not my Pa, my sweetpeas. Nah-uh.

Like most men, my father took this turning point of his life lying down, literally. If three years ago he cursed at his Creator, the world, everybody else and whoever was in the room, or cried and lamented at how this new chapter of his lifebook took a turn, I would have understood. But he didn’t. He took it with an eerily complete submission that those who know him pre-stroke would swear that it is an absolute 360-degree pivot. I wasn’t surprised though.  Delayed reaction, it may seem, but I can’t help but suspect that this is just an act of a scheming con artist because a year or so ago,  the old Pa seems to have resurfaced sans the mobility and the paralysis-free physique—the result was an  irreverent sick old man whose angst came in completely asshole proportions. The old cunning bastard is back—screaming and kicking, if only humanly possible for him.  Manipulative as hell, an emotional blackmailer extraordinaire. It’s hard to explain but despite all these, there’s something about Pa’s ways that still makes him difficult to unlove, to me at least.

Years before D-Day, he became somebody different. You see, my father used to be the typical macho, brusque, rugged, sly, shrewd, man-of-the-streets kind of guy. He’s the rebel without a cause poster boy. Well, it’s never always a case of “without a cause.” He comes from rather extremely complicated family not that it’s fair to blame it all on the family all the time but for lack of something better to justify it with, let’s just take that. Also, his childhood was a textbook case for shrinks.

I’m only human and while I don’t want to use it as an excuse, there are simply things that sometimes I don’t get to take the wheel of. I get pissed off when he screams in seemingly perfectly scheduled unholy hours past midnight. I get that murderous urge when he calls on residents of hell to take him out of his misery and whatever else unthinkable. But at the end of the day, he’s still my father. He played a huge part in my childhood, some of it really bad but some were actually happy moments and quite preparatory for when I had to face the real world (like, right now?). As I always tell my nephew every time we have one of those aunt-to-nephew heart to heart talks that only those who have an awesome aunt-to-nephew closeness like we have can ever have, one can only blame his/her parents for whatever rough-ups he/she has had in his/her lifetime for so long. Despite all the Freudian analyses about how our parents are the root of all evil (and then some) in our lives, I believe we have that thinking and discerning capacity that eventually lets us decide which route to take as we get a bit older.

So my father isn’t the model dad.  I’m no model daughter either.  I do love Papa not only because there’s so much about me that I can only thank him for but because not everything about him is his undoing and if I take it all out in him, my children, if I ever get to have my own kids somehow, might do the same to me and I don’t want that Not that one or the other matters because in this life, regardless of the kind of relationship that we have, he’s another human being and no matter how awful some people might have been in their lifetime, no one deserves to be disrespected.

I guess I can only pray.  For acceptance, for strength, for faith.  For my Ma to be stronger.  For her to live longer because I sure can’t face this alone.  It’s one of those moments when being unmarried is a curse—gives me no excuse to opt out.  I don’t go to church anymore for reasons that I have yet to precisely point a stubby finger on, but I do talk to God, and bless him, I believe he knows where I’m at where he’s concerned.  I guess in times like this, it helps to have something to cling on to.  Something.  Someone.

Instant Noodles

by SIGFREID BARROS-SANCHEZ
(Published in the November 2000 issue of The Engineering Logscript,  the official student publication of the UP College of Engineering)

ibinenta ka sa halagang limang piso
sabay inilubog sa marami-raming kumukulong tubig
tatlong minuto kang pakukuluan
at kapag luto na, hahanguin
saka ilalagay ang mga pampalabok
na hitik na hitik sa mga kemikal
na balang araw ay papatay sa kanila
kung may pera pa, lalagyan ka ng isang itlog
at ilang mga gulay na napulot
sa maputik na kalsada ng Divisoria

ihahain ka sa apat na anak
at aasang mapapatalino mo at mapapalusog sila
accepted ka kasi ng DOH
at may sangkap-Pinoy, sabi ng pakete
hihigupin nila ang mainit mong sabaw
na wala nang lasa sa dami ng tubig
nanamnamin nila ang hibla mo
baka nga naman may naligaw
na totoong chicken o beef
matutulog sila at magkukunwaring busog
bukas, iisipin muli kung saan kukunin
ang ipambibili sa iyo
ano’ng timpla? ano’ng rekado?
anong brand ng instant noodles?

Nissin’s, Maggi, o Lucky Me?

ibinenta tayo sa dayuhan sa halagang mamiso
na naglulubog sa ekonomiya sa kumukulong mantika
minu-minuto kapag pinakukuluan
sa suweldong hilaw at madaling hanginin
bibilugin tayo ng mga pangakong mapalabok
habang sa trabaho’y niluluto sa init at kemikal
na balang-araw ay papatay sa atin
pinararami natin ang kanilang pera at pinalalaki ang itlog
at kapag gulay na ang mga katawan
itatapon tayo sa maputik na kalsada ng Divisoria

pagkatapos, ano ang ihahain sa apat na anak?
paano tatalino at lulusog sa kitang di sapat?
i-a-accept tayo ng DOH
na may sakit-Pinoy, sabi ng x-ray
nahigop na ang baga natin,
halos wala nang natitira at tinutubig
malapit nang namnamin ng uod
ang hibla ng buhay ng bawat isa
at gawing pagkain
ng mga chicken at beef
di tayo makatulog, ni magkunwaring busog
bukas, iisipin muli kung may kukunan pa ba
ng perang ipambibili
ano’ng ipantitimpla? ano’ng irerekado?
kahit na anong brand ng instant noodles.

lucky me nga ba?

When I get the time, I’ll try to write the English translations per line, not that I think that it’s a good idea.  I fear I might not do justice to it.  

Seymour Barros-Sanchez, Meyor to most, is an advocacy filmmaker.  His brother, Sig, is another esteemed filmmaker.  They come from a family of writers and well, wizards too, I’m pretty sure. These guys make me speak in a hushed tone.  What can I say, I’m a fan! I’ll probably make a fool of myself if I’m in their presence so it’s good that I’m not.  LOL.  See?  I’m talking gibberish here!

Meyor said this poem was published in The Engineering Logscript, the UP College of Engineering’s official student publication which he headed for two years. No one kept a copy of that issue and most UP Eng’g majors couldn’t seem to come up with a regular issue of their Logscript since they’re more concerned in dealing with dynamics of rigid bodies so he decided to retype the poem in full for archiving.  I think it’s a good idea.  It’s going to be a “collectors’ item” so I didn’t want to pass up on the chance of being able to post it here. 

Thanks, Meyor for letting me do so.

Not A Political Statement

“Love is a human experience, not a political statement.”

Wow!  In this day and age, such profound words from an amazing and gorgeous young lady are a breath of fresh air.  There’s hope for this planet after all! 

Anne Hathaway IS something else.  She’s the recipient of this year’s HRC Ally for Equality Hero award. 

Pacman Bags It AGAIN!

Manny Pacquiao is the new WBC super featherweight title holder.  According to him, “the business is over.”  The fight that was four years in the making was awesome.  It was a close call.  I thought the best case scenario was a draw because I’ve always been bad with Math but hey, it’s another reason to celebrate again! 

Pacman’s fight has always stopped the clock for the Filipinos.  No rally, no traffic jam, almost zero crime rate, a ceasefire between the rebel groups and the armed forces.  Celebrities flock to Vegas.  Phenomenal.  Even the politicians don’t mind looking like fools trying to raise whatever part of Manny’s body in the ring for photo op!  And they cross party lines for that.  God knows how much campaign money they earned from that bout.  I’m sure it was more than enough to ensure a win since Juan Manuel’s Marquez’s great strategy and play made bets soar to unthinkable proportions. 

Way to go, Pacman! 

After this welcome respite from all the woes that life has to offer, we can get back to business.  It’s only Pacman’s business with Marquez that’s over.  Not ours.  For now, let’s get ready to PARTY!

Coke Anyone? Juicy Tales from the Online Rumor Mill

If you haven’t heard/read about it yet, then you must have been nursing a Jun Lozada fever still.  For some who have been fed up with all the heady (no pun intended) theatrics, the latest catfight online is a welcome distraction.  Beautiful release, Ms. MacLachlan? 

I’m talking about the whole Brian Gorell vs. Delfin Justiniano “DJ” Ocampo and the whole “Gucci Gang” hooplah that overpower the much hyped about Sergio-MariMar wedding, Lobo’s much-awaited transformation, Leo San Miguel’s not so surprising surprise, and the widely monitored Clinton-Obama race.  As Le Superstar Fabuleux Bryan put it, it’s “bigger than the Edison Chen scandal in Hong Kong.”  That’s quite something considering the last one’s really huge too!  I almost forgot Governor Spitzer’s major mishap!  Move over Ashley, we’ve got a new star.

I actually just stumbled upon it by accident.  A few clicks here and there later, it unfolded before my very eyes.  It’s sad for shallow gossipy me to have missed the Comments section of the now uber-popular resurrected blog but what I have read pretty much gave me a clearer picture of the whole hubbub.

Let me try to sum up the now much talked about scandal.  Brian Gorell, a man from Down Under, created a blog in (dis)honor of his ex-lover Delfin Justiniano “DJ” Ocampo Montano II.  He dissed the guy and his friends because the ex-boyfriend allegedly still owes him $70,000.  He said in his blog that he won’t stop until he gets his money back.  Now what’s shocking, other than the staggering amount of money, is that the blog talks bad about people move around in Manila’s party scene far more frequently than the rest of us mere mortals.  They, the Gucci Gang, according to the blog, are the young set of the Manila alta sociedad.  I’m sure you’ve heard of Celine Lopez (Philippine Star writer and daughter of former solons Albertito and Emily Relucio-Lopez), Marcel Crespo (Lopez’s ex-fiance and Mark Jimenez’s son), Wendy Puyat-Hotung (a swimwear designer), Tina Tinio (a L’Oréal executive) and Tim Yap (another party animal and entrepreneur).

Everyone loves a juicy tale.  Well, not in huge doses and snorts(!) but every now and then, we lurvvv it.  Schadenfreude after all, is a guilty pleasure.  But this one’s wild!  Not only does it talk nasty of a love affair gone sour, it also talks of the massive and reckless use of cocaine.  If it were to be taken in without question, it will definitely crush to pieces what remnants of reputation these people have left.

A few days ago, the blog was closed but it went live again sans the comments section because apparently it got nuked because of that.  Not that they can’t touch it now.  I mean anything is possible ’round here.  Hell hath no fury than a woman (and the like) scorned indeed but by golly, it gets really uglier by the minute!  Brian Gorell is HIV positive, by the way.  He said so himself.  He claims to have given up his farm in Australia and a lover of 20 or so years.  But he’s back there.  I am not sure how he’s getting on though.  I have one word for him.  Thailand.  The others?  I’m not really sure.  All I know is that they’re getting their share of the limelight one at a time.  And I’m sure they don’t like it this time.  I wonder if ABS-CBN will run this story if this blows.  Or PhilStar.  Tim Yap has been very visible in GMA but I don’t think he’s got that kind of power on the news and public affairs turf.  Gorell said the blog will close as soon as DJ Montano pays up.  I wonder when he’ll post the Western Union receipts.  That should somehow make a case.  This drama marathon is addictive in coke-like proportions!  LOL. 

Sniff.  Snort.  Aaah!

Before the blog closes again, you can check it out here.

Qué horor! Qué barbaridad!

Of Politics and Genealogy: US Edition

My friend, Todd, never runs out of interesting genealogy-related posts. So I grabbed another interesting one. Everything after this sentence is taken from his blog.

US Presidential Family Trees

There is always a resurgence of genealogical interest every election season in the United States. In the past, genealogists believed that the presidential candidate with the most number of royal connections, ergo the “most royal” of all the aspirants, almost always wins the election.

Another angle to look at is the diversity of the family connections of a presidential candidate. This early on, using the references of online genealogical databases, let us examine who among Hillary Rodham Clinton, Barack Obama, and John McCain has the political, social, and royal pedigree.

Part I: BARACK OBAMA

Barack Obama, one of the two Democratic contenders for the presidency, is perhaps, among the three candidates, the most genealogically diversed. His bloodline consists of Luo (Kenyan), English, German, Irish, Welsh, and smattering of French and Dutch ancestries. His pedigree shows different groups of people spanning several generations from different places. (Click here to see his pedigree chart).

Obama’s Kenyan ancestry is sketchy, and is traced only through the male line. (Click here for a diagram of his Kenyan ancestry.) Much of his known family tree is through his maternal side, and it is here that we find many interesting relations to the senator.

Obama could count at least two royal ancestors: William I “the Lion”, King of Scotland, and Henry II of England. He is related to at least six US Presidents: Jimmy Carter (half 7th cousins three times removed), Harry Truman (7th cousins three times removed), the 2 George Bushes (10th cousins once and twice removed, respectively), Woodrow Wilson (husband of Obama’s 6th cousin five times removed), and James Madison (3rd cousin nine times removed). He is also a ninth cousin once removed of Vice-President Dick Cheney. He has several relative lawmakers and Supreme Court Justices, as well.

But Obama’s ancestry is not limited to political personalities. He is a 7th cousin four times removed of renowned artist Georgia O’Keefe, and his eighth cousin once removed, Elizabeth H. Richardson, was married to novelist Ernest M. Hemingway. Another relative is Gordon B. Hinkley, President of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. Theodore N. Vail, founder of AT&T, is a sixth cousin four times removed, while banker JP Morgan is a 7th cousin four times removed.

Other interesting relations of Senator Obama are actors: Margaux Hemingway, his 9th cousin; Superman Christopher Reeve, a 7th couin twice removed, and Katharine Hepburn, a 7th cousin thrice removed, and Brad Pitt is a 9th cousin. Even Justin Timberlake is Obama’s 11th cousin! A truly interesting approach to American politics.

Part II: HILLARY RODHAM CLINTON

Interestingly, Senator Clinton’s ancestry is also as colorful as Obama’s, though not as diverse as his. While Obama’s relatives include people from the arts, politics, banking and finance, business, the Mormon church, and even royalty, Clinton’s are more concentrated on two areas: politics and the arts. (Click here for Clinton’s pedigree chart)

Her political relatives include Prime Ministers Pierre Trudeau and Jean Chretien of Canada. Other than these two popular Canadian politicians, most of Hillary’s more popular relatives are from the entertainment industry. Shania Twain is her 9th cousin three times removed, Celine Dion is her 10th cousin once removed, Alanis Morissette is her tenth cousin, while Madonna and Clinton are 10th cousins. Three very interesting notes on Hilary’s genealogy: her royal antecedents are supposed to be the Kings of Navarre, but there are no exact evidences for that; she is also a 10th cousin of Camila Shand, the Duchess of Cornwall and wife of Prince Charles; and, finally, actor Jon Voight is the husband of Marcheline Bertrand [and father of Angelina Jolie], Hillary’s 9th cousin once removed.

Part III: JOHN McCAIN

McCain’s antecedents are not as glamorous and diverse as Obama’s and Clinton’s. In fact,John McCain’s genealogy (for the time being) has only been traced to reveal two interesting people: one, to King William I “the Lion”, King of Scotland, who is McCain’s direct ancestor, and Laura Bush, wife of President George W. Bush, who happens to be a sixth cousin of Senator John McCain. (Click here for McCain’s pedigree chart).

In a world where political victories and losses are not as easily predicted as surveys are paraded and believed to be, looking at a candidate’s ancestry sometimes tells us who among the candidates is the strongest.

It is interesting to note that Obama and McCain share a common descent from King William of Scotland, and that Obama and Clinton are relatives by affinity because Obama’s cousin, Brad Pitt, married Angelina Jolie, the daughter of Jon Voight, Hillary’s cousin.

The fight between Hillary and Obama will be long and hard, considering that both have strong royal bloodlines and, while Obama have many US Presidential relatives, Clinton’s two Canadian Prime Minister cousins Trudeau and Chretien are two of the modern times’ most influential. And, between them are [sic] a plethora of singers and actors and actresses, each of whom have made an impact to the world.

Whoever wins in the Democratic race will ultimately face McCain who, while not having as many famous relatives as Obama and Clinton, certainly has the right relationship to incumbent George W. Bush, as well as also a royal descent from William of Scotland. It would seem that this November would be a face-off between Obama and McCain, both of whom are related to the Bushes and both sharing a common descent from King William of Scotland.

_____________________

This article is based on several online genealogies of the three candidates, the most comprehensive of which is http://www.wargs.com/political.

Is Romulo Neri Gay?

God knows how many gay people I have in my posse.  Needless to say, I have always had high respect for people who have gotten out of the closet to be true to themselves and to others.  But I can only sympathize with those who find it hard to come to terms with their sexuality.  The Philippines is laden with misguided moralists and homophobes who blame whatever misfortune that befall on their families on their gay family members.  Talk about miseducation. 

As my college history professor said, the hardest thing to change in people is the mentality.  The American Psychiatric Association removed homosexuality from its list of mental disorders while the World Health Organization reclassified it from being a mental illness to ego-dystonic homosexuality.  But people still pray that gay guys and girls will get well!!! Why, one actress even gave a testimony in her church about how their family was happy when her cousin recovered from homosexuality!  And this lady graduated from UP for crying out loud.  Well, I do know a lot of chauvinist and homophobic UP alumni.

Anyway, the senate hearings have hinted that there is (was?) a special friendship between former NEDA chair Romulo Neri and former Philforest president and ZTE scandal whistleblower Rodolfo Noel Lozada Jr.  Former COMELEC Chair Benjamin Abalos also speculated on what kind of relationship the two had.  Now Senator Jamby Madrigal threatened to expose Neri’s personal secrets.  Could there be a homosexual undertone in all these? 

Regardless of whether Neri’s gay or not, no one has the right to condemn him or even maliciously high-hat him because of it.  Whatever happened to human rights?  Are they a special provision for extrajudicial killing victims?  Why am I not surprised?  This world, after all, is heavily tinted with the glass of double standards. 

Which leads me to wonder, could this be Malacañang’s hold over Neri? When there’s smoke, there’s fire but please spare me the drama. Spare the Filipinos the theatrics and the hystrionics that this gut-wrenching soap opera has spewed on a daily basis. We need to know the truth but can’t we have another Clarissa Ocampo or Emma Lim? And please, don’t let one’s sexual orientation and preference get the spotlight.

Castro Out, De Castro In?

Now that Fidel Castro has “resigned” from being Cuba’s president due to intestinal woes, his brother who has been the interim president since 2006 is expected to get the official title.  The man in green fatigues has survived countless assassination attempts, the hostile stance of the US and many others.  His speeches have elicited a million and one mixed reactions all across the globe.  But throughout almost half a century of rule in Cuba, the man has stood the test of time. 

Now that the octagenarian has called it quits, the “moderately greedy” Filipino politicos are wishing that the Philippine president would do the same.  The veep seems to be enjoying the limelight as well, as parties are “welcoming” him left and right.  People are even pairing him up with vice presidentiables. 

Now that Castro’s out of the picture and our local political henchmen are calling for the president’s ouster, is it De Castro’s turn?  Hmmmm…. I’m not sure the shoe fits, really.  One thing’s certain, Willie Revillame will enjoy a good cigar or two if and when De Castro makes it. 

Black and White

I am not pro-GMA. 

If it’s the TV station we’re talking about, then I’d say I am without batting an eyelash, which is impossible by the way because you can’t just bat ONE eyelash!  But really, I am not the president’s die-hard fan.  Let’s just say that I am for this country.  But I won’t claim expertise on what’s best for this country as so many people have already been holding the megaphone.  I guess my time with the mob is over.  I want to grow old real fast but I don’t think I’m getting that old yet so my hiatus is perhaps just that—a hiatus. 

Where does the right begin and where does wrong end?  Does the world really have to be just a choice between black and white?  I am trying  to stifle another bored yawn over what’s going on in our country.  As much as I hate to admit it, I guess I have become someone that I used to hate big time—apathetic.  Not pathetic, you dumbarse.  Well, perhaps partly. 

But really, I’m confused.  This country is so used to corruption.  Since time immemorial, politicians have stolen from us.  And no we don’t have the monopoly of a graft and corruption-infested soil.  Other places have it too.  And so people like me is no longer a rarity.  So there’s a new scandal, what’s new with it?  People steal anyway.  My mantra has become, he/she who steals the least without totally crippling the country is least despicable of the all.  It’s hard to tell, really.  So when it’s hard to tell, I try to just pick whoever’s in power so long as he/she’s not THAT stupid regardless of height or mole size. 

My next confusion steams from the size of the loot.  Ok.  So everybody steals.  Who steals the least is the lesser evil and so that’s the way it should be.  Yeah, so it’s ok to steal so long as it’s not as big as what others steal.  It’s ok to make mistakes so long as they’re not as bad as the ones the other guy made.  This has become our standards and in this grueling world, we can’t really blame people.  Sometimes, we just have to be happy with our small feats.  Yeah it’s not right.  But beggars can’t be choosers.  No one can afford to be choosy.  Yeah it helps to save some dignity inside and maintain ones moral standards but then again, who set those standards in the first place?  Tune in the the radio or turn that TV volume up.  That’s not what’s happening.  People have been hurling accusations against one another as if their lives, and not their political agenda, depended on it. He/she who sinneth not cast the first stone.  My god!  I’ve never seen this many hypocrites in my lifetime!  JDV has been going at it like the fly to the poop!  Is it just me or is eternal damnation really just around the bend?  What with wolves in sheep’s clothing parading here and there like there’s a huge offering coming up I’d be surprised if all of a sudden I’ll see the scene where Moses excitedly came down from the mountain with the tablets of ten commandments in his hand only to find his shenanigans of relatives worshipping an idol! The audacity of people to use the name of God to bring their cases to the streets!  And who are these prophets who act like they have never sinned or partaken of anything that came from under the table!

I am indeed very confused.  And what’s making it worse is the gripping feeling that has been eating me all this time.  I am scared.  I am so scared for this country that I fear waking up the following morning because it might be the day of the great catharsis and it may not be what we all want to see.  I am young by world’s standards and because I am so, I don’t want to spoil the fun by watching it just slip away when I have not yet filled the half-full glass in my hand. 

Will this end?  Will blood flow?  Will people die?  Will I die?  Who is telling the truth?  And how do we measure truth nowadays?  Is it something that our gut tells us?  Or has the standards change?  Is it signified by tears and melodrama?  If I knew the answers, I’d be able to sleep well.  And I’ll stop worrying about tomorrow. 

Tomorrow’s just another day.  Today’s a gift.  That’s why it’s called the present.  But I don’t want to get any more gifts if it’s just like this.  I want to have tomorrow.  But somehow that petrifies me more.

So what now…

Gordon for President

Is it too early to campaign for the next president?  Yes?  Yeah, right!

There have been soooo many of them who have already been giving feelers here and there.  Some of them have even verbalized their “dreams” of leading this downtrodden land.  So why can’t I make my own declaration? I’m not the one running anyway. 

In a previous post, I have shortlisted my presidentiables.  I have already mentioned Richard “Dick” Gordon.  I also said that he will not win.  Why?  He’s not the typical KBL politician (Kasal or Weddings, Binyag or Baptisms and Dedications, Libing or Burial/Funerals).  He may be energetic but he’s not charismatic and patronizing.  But he’s one guy who delivers and whose tail doesn’t go between his legs when his decisions cross party lines.  For that, he’s on my good side.  Well, I think Subic speaks for him. 

Bayani Fernando, on the other hand, is my other living bet.  But I strongly believe that he’s better off as an operative.  While listening to the last episode of Hwang Jin-i (my back was to the TV set because I was beating a deadline), I heard the head Kisaeng say that the committee of dance teachers from all across old Korea chose the other dancer because she’s not as good as the lead of the story but because she sees and acknowledges another person’s talents and that the better dancer is needed by the country to continue dancing because she’s good at it.  Fernando is like that.  The country needs more people like him.  He may not be popular because of the effects of his actions on the surface but because of the longer-term effects of those actions, he has nailed it for me. 

So why Gordon?  Why not Mar Roxas?  Why not Kabayang Noli De Castro?  Why not JDV?  Why not Manny Villar?

Mar Roxas looks really good on paper.  His résumé is awesome.  Why, when he was just starting to make the waves in the Philippines back in the 90s, I was already been a fan!  In fact, when I chaired an event in our dorm in UP, I made it a point to really have him as our guest speaker.  He graciously accepted our invitation, I was ecstatic.  Now that I think about it, I hate it that digicams weren’t that popular then.  I remember that he smelled and looked really good!  He came late because he came from a session in the Congress that wrapped up really late.  Oh, and as a giggly college girl who had a huge crush on the guy, I blushed to my roots when he kissed me on the cheek.  Yeah!  It was just one of those besos that people exchange instead of handshakes but it sent me to cloud 9.  So Korina, my dear, una syang naging akin!  LOL.  But I will not vote for him.  Why?  He’s too politically motivated.  He has changed big time.  I’m pretty sure he’s a good person and that he has really good intentions for the country but the people around him are too strong for him.  I’m not discounting his ability to think for himself but let’s just say that with so many strong people around you, you can’t help but be swayed into doing things that you may not personally like without actually realizing that you’re doing it.  It’s too early for him too.  Perhaps, by the next presidential election after 2010, he’ll be ripe enough.  And perhaps by then, I’ll vote for him. 

Kabayang Noli is not a presidentiable.  I’m sorry but I really do think the shoes are too big for him. 

Why not JDV?  Well, in the 1998 presidential election, I was a NAMFREL volunteer.  The strongest contenders then were House Speaker Jose De Venecia, the late Raul Roco, and then Vice President Joseph Estrada.  I was not qualified to vote during that time because I turned 18 June of that year so there was really no chance that I could vote.  So what I did before that was get myself all-informed about who’s who in the race.  And I started my NAMFREL tradition.  I started volunteering on elections back in the 1995 elections when I was still in high school.  It was VOTECARE then.  It’s PPCRV now.  In 1998, it was NAMFREL for me and before our “shift” we were told to make sure that our flashlights were working and to be on our toes at all times as there were rumors that JDV was going to cause some power interruption to do some last minute “adjustments” and well, it didn’t happen and Erap won hands down.  I remember crying upon seeing the huge whiteboard outside the hall where we were stationed at in Ateneo.  JDV has never been someone that I liked.  I liked Ramon Mitra better when he was still the Speaker of the House and I liked him when he was running for presidency and even before that.  Marcelo Fernan was my favorite politico then.  Alongside Roco, Serge Osmeña and many others.  Recently, JDV has given me more reasons never to vote for him. 

How about Villar?  I must admit, he is possibly one of those who’s got almost everything needed to win a presidential election.  He’s got the money, the machinery and the popularity.  But does he have the balls to run this country, let alone the ability to dance decently?  I don’t think so.  Lest orange becomes a national color, I don’t think we want this guy.  I do love orange but well, I’m not sure about it becoming a good national color.  How about a coat of arms in orange?  Nah!!!

In this time of turmoil and unrest, perhaps, it’s best if we think of what we want in a leader and who out there deserves the key to the golden door that we call our country.  We don’t need someone who has the charisma to make ladies swoon and men bow.  We don’t need someone who can dole out all the time to the beggars that dear Philippines never seems to run out of.  We need someone who can govern conscientiously, be firm, be a good statesman, maintain decent foreign relations and steal just a little without getting caught.  Believe you me, no one will NOT steal.  So let’s hope for someone who will steal just a little and not truckloads of our nation’s treasure chest. 

I’ve made my pick.  That’s Richard Gordon.  He’s not winnable.  He’s an elitist.  But for now, I think I’ve found my man.  Dick’s my pick!

Scripted and Rehearsed!

Lozada got me.

Well, at least on the day he came out and spoke to the press.

But the magic wore off. Perhaps his tears washed away what iota of credibility I gave him credit for. His hidden arrogance looms its ugly head every time he talks down on the government albeit cloaked by the frocks of the church. The long hours he spent in the senate hearing made his act corny and quite annoying, in fact. Yep, to me, it is all an act–orchestrated by people whose love for the country has been a mere facade to a bludgeoning and uncontrollable ambition.

Over dinner, my mom and I got into an uncomfortable tiff. The local news was airing and it was nauseatingly all about Lozada and at almost every juncture, I was spitting expletives, disagreement and ridicule—in that order. Midway, my mom just said, “You are so pro-Gloria.”

First off, that’s President Arroyo, not Mrs. Arroyo, Mr. Vice President. Second, I am not pro-Gloria. When I marched and crusaded against then President Estrada’s regime, I did not for even once think that ousting the man means putting the diminutive and pixie lady on the throne. Apparently, that’s the political reality. That’s the way the constitutional succession works. It was further upheld by a Supreme Court ruling. I will not even bother to argue with those who say otherwise.

When I was one with the thousands of people who kept vigil in the EDSA Shrine complex that fateful week in January a few years back, I was heeding the warning bells that pealed at the back of my head. Hailing a cab in the dark alley so late in the evening to go to Ortigas was pure adrenaline rush. I didn’t think twice. The No votes had it. That was more reason enough for me to go there. The rest is history.

Now, hang in there, I am not a lawyer—because it’s not something that I can get by being related to more lawyers than my one hand can count—but I have worked with more than enough of them to know which is legally sound and not. It does not take a legal genius, however, to know that pure hearsay and drama will never get you past the arraignment.

The president is not a paragon of virtue. Her family does not epitomize sainthood. Like any other politicos, they have their agenda. Like any other people in power, they have been caught in the web of corruption and crime. But calling for her ouster two years shy the end of her term is not only ludicrous but is also a major waste of time. The peso has never been this strong ever since the Asian currency crisis–Thanks to George Soros! While we do not enjoy the typical KBL (kasal/wedding, binyag/baptism, libing/burial) kind of politicism, our present government has managed to map out a stable plan to ensure a better life in the coming years. It’s not like it can happen overnight but if we do our share and abide by the rules, I’m sure we’ll get there in time. But that’s just me, giving myself a pep talk. When hunger strikes and the US recession looms over affording us a good view of what famine is all about, we can’t help but hurl profanities in the air in the hopes that it does get to the palace.

But my argument stays. If we oust the president now, Lee Kuan Yew would laugh his brains out and comment anew that the Philippines is indeed governed by mob rule. Perhaps he’s right when he said that the state of our country is what too much democracy does to a nation. If we oust the president now, who will take the wheel? I am pretty sure there are really good candidates out there but why not level the field and wait for the 2010 elections? If not, why don’t we call for a snap elections now? I am sure we have learned our mistakes. The basic rule of thumb should be followed: Stop, Look and Listen. Look before you leap. If we plunge head on into something, we must find a soft ground to land on, and not another rockbed.

The president may even be a rotten egg for all we know. But for as long as no court admissible evidence is shown to us that she has indeed dipped her hands into boiling water, then perhaps she deserves the time to finish her term. The president is not the best of the bunch. But for as long as it’s not yet harvest time, I think it’s best if we wait for other bunches to be right for the picking. Why limit ourselves to the bunch that we have right now? Yes the country can wait. Good things do not happen overnight but every now and then, we have to draw blood to achieve small victories so that in the long run, greater feats will be ours to cherish and enjoy.

As for Lozada, he has to stop acting like a victim. From wearing an oversized white shirt to claiming that he is impoverished to turning a new leaf via religious propaganda and wearing not just one scapular but TWO for crying out loud to crying spells of OA proportions, he has got to clean up his act and do things right. If he’s the true blue bringer of truth that he claims to be, he does not need the props and everything else. What is wrong with being a hardworking Filipino Chinese? Why try to elicity pity by saying he’s poor? When asked by former COMELEC Chair Benjamin Abalos how a poor man could afford to pay the WackWack clubshares, he haughtily said it was ONLY 400something thousand pesos and he could afford that! No wonder he somehow felt offended when Mike Defensor handed him 50thousand pesos. Who’s next? The highest bidder? Come on! I am not looking for a martyr whose character has no blemishes. I’m merely looking for one who is sincere in giving up his life for his country. And as I have said during the Trillanes folly, someone’s got to die for this country to really wake up from its stupor. And if Lozada is as hardball truth crusader as he portrays himself to be, he should let the angels of death take him so the world can rest and this country can finally move on.

Those Commonly Mispronounced Last Names

Having worked as a publishing consultant for a Canadian-owned, Random House-affiliate publishing services providing company was the closest that I ever had to working for a call center.   Because we catered to mostly North American clients, we had to speak, well, at least passable American English.  Not having undergone any American accent training, I still felt that my English (and other Anglicized words)-speaking skills are somehow above average. 

I never liked trying to sound American by talking nasally.  I’d sound like someone with speech problems like some people I know.  Hehe.  So, I went into training and since I am not at all an idiot, I learned what I was supposed to learn within the period allotted for the process, far more quickly, I believe.  Our trainers were a bunch of characters.  But then again, trainees—and students for that matter—always make fun of their trainers and teachers. 

The first month was a lot of fun.  Our American department head gave us the permission to take 10-minute breaks in between 60-minute of straight serious work.  Those were on top of our lunch breaks and two 15-minute breaks.  That was pure heaven for smokers like us and for non-smokers who took the same breaks as we did to chat and talk about the “characters” in the office.  Since we were told to speak English at all times then, we did.  So breaks were a bunch of breaks indeed filled with funny anecdotes in English.  There were 9 of us in our batch.  We were supposed to be a part of the first batch of 12 but since the first three—who later became our supervisors—were taken in before the Christmas break and they needed hands on deck (not on the dick, you, you!) then, we were considered the 1 1/2 batch.  Hehe. 

So anyway, the main criterion for the beauty contest—er—for hiring us was our English speaking skills.  Our American department head conducted one on one interviews and if you pass his standards—meaning he understands the way you speak and you get to deliver the answers to his questions the way he wants to hear them—then you’re hired.  So we were super proud to have been hired into a position that promised at least a basic fee of twenty grand, well, not in dollars, but in pesos.  We were also given the chance to earn commissions.  It was a good deal!  I will keep mum about what went on after that in terms of monetary concerns because I don’t want to rouse the sleeping monsters here and there. 

The first day we went live—call potential clients—we got lost.  One of the major problems?  Pronunciation of last names.  Pronouncing places wasn’t much of a problem because somehow, I already knew how to properly most of them, like Tucson/TOO-sahn/in Arizona,  Cayce /KAY • see/ in South Carolina, Des Moines /dih-MOYN/ in Iowa, Leicester /LESS-tur/ in Massachusetts, Reading /RED-ing/ (not like READING from the base verb READ!) in Pennsylvannia and many others. 

Nope, we were not given any help in that department.  What I did was create my own pronunciation guide.  Well, it all boils down to etymology for some.  And if you really can’t pronounce it properly, it’s best to politely ask the owner of the name.  I once looked for a Miss Augusta Something only to find out that he’s a HE.  Some countries don’t go by the usual Filipino convention of names ending with (Mario) O or U for men and A (Maria) for women.  By the way, my parents names are Gregorio and Gregoria.  Talk about soulmates!  LOL. 

My research enabled me to learn some new things and to affirm those that I already knew.  I thought it would be nice to share the fruits of my research here.  How’s that?  Most of them are from Inoglo, About.com and The Budget Fashionista.

I started with author’s names. 

Paulo Coelho—paw-LU ko-wel-YU (my own version based on the IPA guide)

Chuck Palahniuk—chuhk PALL-uh-nik

Ayn Rand—ine rand

Roland Barthes—roll-AH(NG) bart

J.R.R Tolkien—“TOLL”-keen

Ivan Illich—ih-VAHN IH-lich

Jodi Picoult—JOE-dee PEE-koe

Marcel Proust—mar-SELL proost

Kathy Reichs—KA-thee ryks

Jon Scieszka—jahn SHESS-kuh

Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky—FYOE-dur mih-HY-loe-vich dahs-tuh-YEF-skee

J K Rowling—”rolling“
 

Then artists:

Jan van Eyck—yahn fuhn ike

Caravaggio—kar-uh-VAHJ-o

Rembrandt—REM-brant

Eugene Delacroix—uu-ZHEHN deh-lah-krwah

Edgar Degas—ED-gar duh-GAH

Claude Monet—kload moe-nay

Paul Gauguin—pall go-GA

Jean-Auguste Ingres—zhahn-o-gust angg

And what last name pronunciation guide would be complete without fashion designers?  So here’s a not-so-complete guide from The Budget Fashionista.  They’re divided into A-G, H-M, and N-Z. 

Giorgio Armani: Jor-ji-o Ar-ma-nee
Manolo Blahnik: Muh-no-low blah- nick
Andre Courreges: AN-Dre Courreges
Balenciaga: Bal-en-see-AH-gah
Bottega Veneta: Bo-TAY-ga Ve-NE-tah
Roberto Cavalli: RO-ber-to Ka-VA-lee
Chanel: Sha-nel
Chloé: KLO-ee
Comme des Garcons: KUM de Gar-SOHN
Christian Dior: KRE-shtaan DEE-or
Dolce and Gabbana: DOL-chay and Gab-BAH-nah
Ellen Tracy: EL-lin TRAY-see
Salvatore Ferragamo: Sal- va- tor Ferr-A-ga-mo
Gianfranco Ferre: Gee-an-fran-ko Ferr-ay
John Galliano: Gall-lee-a-no
Givenchy: Gee-von-she
Halston: Hall-stun
Hermes: Air-mez
Hugo Boss: He-you-go Bo-s
Imitation of Christ: Em-ma-ta-shun of Cry-st
Marc Jacobs: Ma-rk Jay-kob-s
Betsey Johnson: BET-see JON-sun
Calvin Klein: CAL-vin KLYIN
Donna Karan (DKNY): Don-NAH KA-ran
Michael Kors: My-kal Ko-ors
Karl Lagerfeld: Ka-ral La-ger-fell-d
Helmut Lang: Hell- Mut Lay-ng
Jeanne Lanvin: John La- vin
Ralph Lauren: LORE-in
Nanette Lepore: Na-net LA-pour
Christian Louboutin: KRI-shtaan Lu-bu-TAHN
Louis Vuitton: Lu-wee Vee-tuhhh
Catherine Malandrino: KATH-er-in Mal-an-DREE-no
Alexander McQueen: Al-ex-AHN-der Mac-KWEEN
Isaac Mizrahi: Eye-zak Miz-ra-hee
Issey Miyake: E-say Me-ya-kay
Zac Posen: Zak Poo-zen
Proenza Schouler: pro-en-za skool-er
Emilio Pucci: E-MEE-lee-o POH-chee
Tracy Reese: TRAY- cee Ree-s
Elsa Schiaparelli: EL-sa She-a-pa-REHL-lee
Anna Sui: AN-na SOO-ee
Gianni Versace: Gee-a-nee Verr-sha-chie
Diane Von Furstenberg: DY-an Von FUR-sten-berg
Vera Wang: Veer- ra Way-ng

About.com also has an audio pronunciation guide on how designers’ names and brands are pronounced.  Check it out here.  It contains the correct pronunciation guides of Balmain, Byblos, Ermenegildo Zegna, Jean Paul Gaultier, Les Copains, Yves Saint Laurent and many more.

As a largely English-speaking country, I believe that pronouncing these foreign names and last names—English and Anglicized—are not merely about sounding good or whatever but it means giving respect to people from other countries whose names are not that easy for us Filipinos to pronounce.  My name is constantly mispronounced and misspelled either and while I have gotten used to it, it still gets annoying sometimes.  So, I think learning how to pronounce these names properly is a way of giving respect to others.

I Miss Starbucks

When Starbucks first opened in the Philippines, the caffeine-operated robot that I claim to be moi got ecstatic. I was in college then. And while cab fare alone from UP to Makati was enough to get me a Venti of my favorite frap, I didn’t mind, despite the fact that my monthly allowance from home required an austere lifestyle, I still couldn’t stop my Starbucks urges. And so there started my love affair with the specialty coffee biggie. Of course it didn’t take that long for Starbucks to mushroom all over the place. I used to hang out near La Salle Taft because I once had a boyfriend who lived somewhere thereabouts and because I lived in the dorm, we hung out in his place. So when the branch in Torre Lorenzo opened, I did somersaults!

When I went home, a huge part of then overly huge moi missed Starbucks.

After a year or so, I moved to Cebu. And there, I reunited with the big S. Meetings, meet-ups, get-togethers and whatnots were always held in Starbucks in Ayala. I tried another coffee shop. But they couldn’t get the Coffee Crumble right and they don’t cancel orders the way Starbucks lets you.

After around 3 years, I moved again to where my parents have moved. Nope, we’re no gypsies. Not that I don’t suspect that we are. And I so miss Starbucks. It’s Christmastime once more and I’m sure Starbucks fans are busy filling their cards with stickers to get the much coveted Starbucks organizer. I guess I won’t be getting my 2008 copy. Sigh…

But more than anything else, I just miss Starbucks. There’s a coffeeshop near my place but I don’t think it’ll give me satisfy my cravings. I do not want to sound shallow and elitist but I just want to indulge myself with at least the idea of really missing Starbucks. I’m sure they have Crème Brûlée now as part of their Christmas specials. I can even smell it now. Sigh…

Oh well, guess I’ll just curl up in bed with a book to forget about things that I can’t have…I’ll just drink black coffee in my Starbucks mug. That would give me the illusion that I’m there.

Ok, nuff of this shit. I just miss it! Grrrrh!

And that my friends, is how the coffee crumbles…

My Latest Favorite Word (Phrase?): Oh, Position

I’ve been busy bloghopping lately that I have been writing more comments than blog entries but it’s awesome because I get to see a lot of things that have been written by really brilliant people in this virtual city that we live in. 

There’s this nice blog entry that I share sentiments with.  Lemme post it…

The ‘Wala na bang iba?’ Manifesto

People who want change: hear us.
• We scoff at the actions of Trillanes and other stupid politicians, celebrities, church figures et al BUT we are not necessarily pro-GMA.
• You are making a big mistake if you assume so.
• We are also frustrated at how things are going but doubly so thanks to your bumbling idiocy. To the various oppositionists we say– hello? Can you see how funny you appear to us? Do you even know and hear us? Do you know that we just want to live a peaceful life here?
• By criticizing those who dont care, you fail to win us over.
• Making stupid Trillanic and Guingonic moves doesn’t help either.
• It also doesn’t help that there are too many opposition leaders but all with the collective IQ of a door knob. At least yung door knob may silbi.
• The more you squabble and bungle, the more GMA looks smarter than you. You don’t deserve to lead us if you can’t even lead yourselves.
• Ano pa nga ba ang pwede naming gawin? Sino mang ipapalit nyo ngayon all look puny compared to how GMA has handled the crisis you’ve been trying to stir since day one. Nung una, okay lang. Pero you guys have all proven your incompetence.
• What really miffs us is every time you disturb the peace, di naman kayo ang immediately affected eh. KAMI!
• So please– we won’t even ask you to get your act together. We’ll just wait. We advice na tumahimik din kayo at baka sakaling may lalabas na better leaders than all you selfish brats.

That was posted by Ben C. in Ang Tagal Naman.

As for my title, Durano, my latest favorite blogger coined the term Oh, Position.  In his comment in this same entry that I mentioned, he said, “The current anti-GMA politicos are salivating for Malacanang Palace. They can”t wait to get their slimy hands on the country’s coffers just like GMA. They are of the same breed! We should refer to them as Oh,Position! No one has credibility. You’re right, lets wait for someone new to rise above these scum. These politicians should all make like a fart and blow. After that stink, we can have some fresh air.–Durano, done!” Very well said, comrade! 

You should check his blog out. He’s got really nice whips and spits. 

Another blogger, JC Smith created an ID for Trillanes.  This one’s really funny.  Check it out at his blog. 

The Philippine Comedian made me laugh with his own Trillanes Fans Club entry. 

Gotta rest now.  I’ve been hopping around all day that my virtual feet hurt.  LOL.  This is better than getting the eBay fever.  Jeez, that one drained my piggy bank!

Of Politics and Genealogy

I grabbed these two blog posts from my friend Todd’s blog.

The original titles of the two separate entries are: RP Politics: A Family Affair and Tangled Webs of Families and Intrigues respectively.

They’re a tad too long for those who do not have the patience to read stuff like this but instead of separating these entries, I decided to enter them as one, hence the length. I find this very interesting. I hope you will too.

RP Politics: A Family Affair

In 1898, Emilio Aguinaldo declared the Philippines an independent and sovereign state and became this nation’s first president. A century plus three years later, his cousin, Gloria M. Arroyo, rose to the same position when Joseph Ejercito Estrada was toppled from power through the event known as People Power II. As it happened, Erap, too, was Gloria’s relative. In fact, in a complicated and Byzantine manner, almost all of our former leaders were related to one another, in one way or the other. Allow me to extrapolate.

Emilio Aguinaldo’s first cousin’s, General Baldomero Aguinaldo, great-grandson was Cesar E.A. Virata, the first and only Prime Minster of the Republic of the Philippines.

The Virata family, through marriage, is connected with the Acuña family. One Acuña married a scion of the Roxas family. The product of this marriage was former President Manuel A. Roxas, whose son Gerry Roxas was a former Senator and whose grandson, Mar Roxas III was a Trade and Industry secretary and currently a Senator of the Republic.

Also, due to his dalliance with Juanita McIlvain, former Miss Universe Margarita “Margie” Moran Floirendo just happens to be President Roxas’ granddaughter.

“President Manuel Roxas’ wife, Trinidad de Leon, was the daughter of former Senator Ceferino de Leon. Sen. De Leon’s brother, Jose, married Dona Narcisa “Sisang” Buencamino, one of the most successful movie magnates in her time. Narcisa’s first cousin’s son was Philip Buencamino, who married Nene Quezon, daughter of President Manuel Luis Quezon.

Further, another scion of the Roxas family was Margarita Roxas, whose marriage to Antonio de Ayala produced Trinidad de Ayala. Trinidad later married Jacobo Zobel and started the legendary Zobel De Ayala family.

Some of the minor branches of the Zobel de Ayala family married into the other aristocratic families of Manila. The Aranetas, Ayalas, Elizaldes, Prietos, and more. Through the Roxas family’s connection with the Aranetas, former Tourism Secretary and beauty queen Gemma Cruz-Araneta is also related to Pres. Roxas.

It must also be remembered that Gemma Cruz’s paternal great-grandmother was Dona Maria Rizal, the sister of our national hero, Jose P. Rizal.

Gemma Cruz’s mother, Carmen, remarried Mr. Angel Nakpil, the nephew of Julio Nakpil, composer of a version of the Philippine National Anthem, who in turn was the husband of Gregoria De Jesus, the “Muse of the Katipunan.”

Gregoria de Jesus was also the widow of Katipunan founder Andres Bonifacio. Similarly, two of Gemma’s first cousins, Paz and Maria Cruz Banaad, married Bienvenido and Roberto Laurel, respectively, relatives of former Vice-President Salvador “Doy” Laurel, son of President Jose P. Laurel.

Two branches of the Araneta family further married presidential daughters; the first one being Juan Miguel Arroyo, whose second cousins are Aranetas. He married then Ms. Gloria M. Macapagal, daughter of President Diosdado Macapagal. Of course, GMA is now the country’s Chief Executive. The second to marry a presidential daughter was Greggy Araneta who married Irene Romualdez Marcos, the youngest child of President Ferdinand Edralin Marcos and Imelda Romualdez. The Araneta-Marcos marriage further stretches our already complicated family connections.

A maternal grandfather of Marcos, Don Fructuoso Edralin, was a cousin of Gen. Antonio Luna and his brother the Filipino national artist, Juan Luna. Juan Luna in turn married Paz Pardo de Tavera, of a rich and powerful Spanish-Filipino family.

Ferdinand Marcos’ grandfather’s sister, Crispina Marcos, married Hilario Valdez. Their daughter, Angela Valdez, married Ambassador Narciso Ramos, father of Fidel V. Ramos, also a President of the Republic. Narciso Ramos, after becoming a widower, married Alfonsita Lucero, whose father’s maternal family, the Birondos of Argao, Cebu, married into the Almendras family of Cebu and Davao.

Alfonsita’s fourth cousin, William Birondo, married Kukit Tecala, whose uncle, Pedro Tecala Sr., married Sofronia Almendras. Two of Sofronia’s siblings married into political families. Her brother, Paulo Almendras, married Elisea Durano, the daughter of Demetrio Durano and progenitor of the Durano family that has ruled Danao and Sogod, Cebu for many years. A prominent member of the Durano family is Ace Durano, a former representative and now Tourism Secretary.

Another cousin of Alfonsita, Dr. Procopio Lucero, Jr., married Gliseria Gullas, sister of politicians Jose and Eduardo Gullas.

Still another fourth cousin of Alfonsita is Hilario Davide, Sr., whose son is Hilario G. Davide, Jr., a former Chief Justice of the Philippine Supreme Court.

A son of Paulo was former Senator Alejandro Almendras, whose marriage to a Bendigo of Davao City connected them to the ruling families of Davao: the Banggoys, Palma Gils, Lizadas, Nograleses and others. The current House of Representative Majority Leader is Prospero “Boy” Nograles from Davao City. Senator Almendras’ brother, Josefino, married Rosita Dimataga, the sister of Leonila Dimataga, who in turn was the wife of President Carlos P. Garcia.

One of Sofronia’s sisters was married to an Osmeña, thus linking them to the family of President Sergio Osmeña. Most of President Osmeña’s male descendants have become senator, governor, mayor, Representative, and councilor at various points in time and his family remains the premier political dynasty of Cebu: Tomas is the current mayor of Cebu City; other members of the family who held or are holding political offices are Jing-Jing, Emilio “Lito”, John, John-John, and many more.

President Osmeña’s half-sister was Doña Modesto Singson-Gaisano, the matriarch of the affluent Gaisano family of Cebu City. Modesta was a progeny of Don Pedro Gotiaoco, whose other descendants include Atty. Agusto Go, President of the University of Cebu and Honorary South Korean Consul; John Gokongwei, Jr., a great-grandson of Don Pedro Gotiaoco and the owner of Cebu Pacific, Robinson’s Mall, JG Summit, and many more; and the Sy-Gaisano family, who operate chains of shopping malls all over Visayas and Mindanao. A grandson of the brother of Don Pedro is Andrew Gotianun, who owns FILINVEST Group and East West Bank.

Imelda Romualdez’s marriage to Marcos also brought in many famous personalities. Imelda’s daughter, Imee, currently a member of the House of Representatives, married Tommy Manotoc, whose mother was related to a wife of Genny Lopez, whose own nephew Beaver married Jackie Estrada, daughter of Pres. Erap Estrada.

Her own niece, Marean Romualdez, daughter of her brother Gov. Alfredo Romualdez, married Thomas Pompidou, the grandson of the French President Georges Pompidou.

Imelda’s first cousin, Senator Danieling Romualdez, married Pacita Gueco of Tarlac. In an ironic twist of fate, Pacita Gueco happened to be the first cousin of the Senator Benigno Aquino Jr.

Of course, the Aquinos themselves have allied with many political families, and a scion of the Aquino clan was Senator Eva Estrada Kalaw, one of the Philippines’ very first female senators.

Ninoy’s marriage to the heiress Corazon Cojuanco also allied his family to another political dynasty. Corazon Aquino, after her husband’s heroic death in 1983, later became the country’s first female Chief Executive. Her maternal family, the Sumulongs, have also produced several lawmakers. The Cojuangco family, on the other hand, owns one of the oldest-existing haciendas in the country today, and the Cojuangcos control many of the country’s business enterprises.

Two Cojuancos, sons of Cory’s cousins Ramon and Eduardo, respectively, married (sic) Rio Diaz (Charlie Cojuanco), sister of former Miss Universe Gloria Diaz and Gretchen Baretto (Tony Boy Cojuanco). Gretchen’s sisters are Claudine and Marjorie, themselves married to actors. Cory’s niece, equestrienne Mikee Cojuangco, married Dodot Jaworski, son of basketball legend and Sen. Robert Jaworski. Senator Jaworski, on the other hand, married Susan Bautista Revilla, daughter of Sen. Ramon Revilla Sr., whose son Bong Revilla was a former governor and Senator. This connection, no doubt, extends this family tree to most of the country’s movie personalities.

Clearly, this Byzantine illustration of family connection is proof of the intricacies of Philippine politics. In this short presentation we have already linked no less than 12 of our 14 Presidents, one Prime Minister, two former Miss Universe winners, several senators and many other personalities, political or otherwise. We have even connected our “Philippine Family Tree” to a former French President! Imagine what further research into the other family trees could reveal?

Philippine politics, undoubtedly, is a family affair.

Tangled Webs of Families and Intrigues

What do President Arroyo, Ping Lacson, Erap Estrada, Imelda Marcos, Danding Cojuangco, Ace Durano, and Nerissa Soon-Ruiz have in common other than all being involved in the Davide impeachment, one way or the other? Well, they all also happen to be related to each other, in one way or the other.

President Gloria Arroyo, alleged to be behind the Davide impeachment, is married to Mike Arroyo, of the infamous JOSE PIDAL CONTROVERSY, whose own grandfather, Jose Maria PIDAL Arroyo, married a Lacson, who also happens to be related to Senator Panfilo Lacson, whose KURATONG BALELENG case has been reoppened by Davide. Mike is similarly a second cousin of Aranetas, whose one member, Greggy, is married to Irene Marcos, daughter of Imelda Marcos, also having recently received a negative SC ruling on her SWISS ACCOUNTS. Irene’s sister, Imee, married Tommy Manotoc, whose mother is related also to the wife of Geny Lopez, whose family has recently also received a blow from the Supreme Court because of their MERALCO RULING. Another Lopez, Beaver, married Jackie Ejercito, daughter of deposed President Joseph Estrada, whose ouster was legalized by an SC ruling declaring GMA’s presidency constitutional in 2001. Meanwhile, Imelda’s first cousin, Danieling Romualdez, married Pacita Gueco, first cousin of Ninoy, whose marriage to Cory Cojuangco made related him to Danding Cojuangco, another recipient of a negative SC ruling, this time on the COCO LEVY FUNDS. He is similarly related to Rep. Teodoro, his own nephew. Imelda’s marriage to Ferdinand Marcos goes on to relate her to FVR, who was Marcos’ 2nd cousin. FVR’s stepmother’s, Alfonsita Birondo Lucero vda. de Ramos’s, fourth cousin William Birondo married an Almendras, who is in turn a cousin of Ace Durano, a signatory of the impeachment rap against Davide. Another fourth cousin of Alfonsita, James Lucero, married Nazarena Soon, the sister of Nerissa Soon-Ruiz, another impeachment signatory. It seems really astounding that all those involved in the Davide impeachment are related, but what’s more astonishing is that they are all also related to the man they are trying to persecute. How? Well, FVR’s stepmom is also the fourth cousin of the embattled Chief Justice, both coming from Don Agustin Cristobal Bayot of Argao, Cebu, who is both their great-great-great-grandfather.

Who says genealogy is boring?

Death Becomes Us

For some reason, I wanted to see people die last week.  Perhaps, for a change.  For some time now, extrajudicial killings, missing people, assassinations, ambush killings, etc, have “ruled the airwaves” but these have not really moved the people to do something.  It takes at least one life to mobilize throngs of people to really do something.  Ninoy made it happen for us when he got himself killed.  I don’t want to sound so callous and cold but there are simply things in this country that have made me feel less and less for people who claim to be the agents of change.

I personally want a revolution.  I know that I will not see it in my lifetime.  A 360-degree turn will not happen overnight.  And with the people that we have on board right now, I’d rather stick my butt out for the pixie prexy than go for a blabbermouth of a young (tra)politician, a broadcast journalist turned crying lady turned turncoat lady, a presidential scion whose girlfriend would be his downfall, a businessman with two left feet donning tangerine and using a popular 80s acronym to describe sexy films as his tagline with a different twist or an evangelist that I voted for because I truly believed in him until he became a very sore loser. 

Well, there’s Dick Gordon who will never win until he becomes a Payumo.  I remember marching for Gordon a month after Erap was installed into the highest post of the land and we wore pins that screamed, Don’t Touch My Dick!  Of course, we failed.  Payumo still got the post and Gordon was still unpopular. 

I have another bet—and I know he will never win too!  Bayani Fernando.  I used to have another bet.  But Death got him first.  And I will never vote for his wife ever.  To do a “Cory” will never work this time—most especially when you’re not in yellow. 

We love people who will be there for us KBL: kasal, binyag, libing (wedding, baptism, funeral).  We want to line up in politician’s houses to ask for moolah for this and that.  We don’t want people who will do something to uplift our lives and standards of living.  Why?  Because that will take some time.  And we want solutions now.  And we want it with people who can dole out money anytime, all the time. 

But we, Filipinos, are lovers of soap opera.  We devour telenovelas the way we feast on lechon.  Had somebody died in Manila Pen last week after arrogantly declaring that they will die for their cause for the nth time, people would have gone out of their houses and make that much-needed change happen.  But an elementary psy-war sent the once-brave men with their tails between their legs to the ground and claiming police brutality afterwards.  For a now-senator and forever officer and gentleman, such lack of foresight, strategem and genuine fervor for change just prove to me that I made the right choice when I did not support the guy.  Now, Faeldon would have been something else.  That’s one force to reckon with. And I don’t think a teargas would send him crying for his Mama.   

Ok, let’s just say that two Ts brought them down: teargas and tank.  When I saw the tank force its bulk into the lobby of the Pen, I did not even think of anything else other than a realization that a tank could actually fit into the lobby if the doors were a bit wider and higher. 

I am not an elitist and never will I be one.  But I look down on rich people who say that they empathize with the poor and the masses.  HOW?!  These people do not even have any idea how it is to go broke with nothing and NOTHING in their pockets to even buy a stick of fishballs.  This is one of the reasons why regardless of what people say about Joker Arroyo, he will forever be on my good side.  The guy has lived in a posh subdivision in Makati, sent his daughter to Cambridge, took the beating for Mrs. Aquino while she was hiding under the bed when she had the biggest chance to revolutionize the country for allegedly being a leftist, and sat on the highest post of two major banks in the country.  But he never for once tried to portray an image of being a man of the masses.  His records would, however, prove that he has always been one.  Ask Joma.  My esteemed columnist, Conrado de Quiros, has criticized Joker for not jumping ship but does party affiliations affect one’s stance in major political issues?  In Joker’s case, it does not.  But people refuse to see that for lack of a bad guy to hate in the telenovela. 

SO going back on track, let me just say that I do want to see change.  But with the voting mentality of our people and the faulty electoral process in our land, I can’t blame my aunt who left her very good post as a municipal health officer to migrate to the Bahamas with her husband who used to be one of the busiest anaesthesiologists in Cebu. 

For as long as Ninoy’s “the Filipino is worth dying for” mantra remains a lip service for the copycats whose balls are not teargas-proof, I do not see a glimmer of light at the end of this tunnel.  Let me see blood and hear bombs and guns instead of poetic speeches that most likely gives Kaka Balagtas a migraine in his grave and I will see at least C in change.  But for as long as D in death remains a letter, I do not think this country will go anywhere. 

For now, GMA is the best person to steer the wheel.  Who’s your bet?  The military junta?  The presidential appointed justices?  Give me a break!

And for these people, I dedicate this song…

Oh what a circus
Oh what a show
Argentina has gone to town
Over the death of an
Actress called Eva Peron
We’ve all gone crazy
Mourning all day and
Mourning all night
Falling over ourselves to
All of the misery right

Oh what an exit
That’s how to go
When they’re ringing
Your curtain down
Demand to be buried
Like Eva Peron
It’s quite a sunset
And good for the country
In a roundabout way
We’ve made the front page of
All the world’s papers today

But who is this Santa Evita?
Why all this howling
Hysterical sorrow?
What kind of goddess
Has lived among us?
How will we ever get by without her?

She had her moments
She had some style
The best show in town
Was the crowd
Outside the Casa Rosada crying
“Eva Peron”
But that’s all gone now
As soon as the smoke from the funeral clears
We’re all gonna see and how
She did nothing for years

You let down your people Evita
You were supposed to have been immortal
That’s all they wanted
Not much to ask for
But in the end you
Could not deliver

Sing you fools
But you got it wrong
Enjoy your prayers because
You haven’t got long
Your queen is dead
Your king is through
And she’s not coming back to you

Show business kept us all alive
Since seventeen october 1945
But the star has gone
The glamour’s worn thin
That’s a pretty bad state
For a state to be in

Instead of government
We had a stage
Instead of ideas
A prima donna’s rage
Instead of help we were
Given a crowd
She didn’t say much
But she said it loud

Sing you fools
But you got it wrong
Enjoy your prayers because
You haven’t got long
Your queen is dead
Your king is through
She’s not coming back to you

Don’t cry for me Argentina
For I am ordinary
Unimportant
And undeserving of such attention
Unless we all are
I think we all are
So share my glory
So share my coffin
So share my glory
So share my coffin

It’s our funeral too

OH WHAT A CIRCUS, from the musical “Evita”
Written by Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice
(c) 1976 MCA Music Publ. ASCAP

The People Behind the News: Lessons on Responsibility and Self-Preservation

As a journalist by scholarship, I feel for the people who were not given the kind of respect that they deserved.  But my highly esteemed mass communication guru said, perhaps the experience is something that we should all learn from—be careful. 

While media people get perks that ordinary citizens like us do not, there are some who use their huge IDs to get into the front seat of every major event in the world.  Some have even (mis)taken the ID for a shield.  I was very thankful that every single detail of the other day’s fiasco was covered.  But amidst all the clamour for the “manhandling” and the cuffing, I think some people deserved what they got. 

Jessica Soho rose to fame after she braved the crossfire in the series of coup d’etat in Cory Aquino’s regime.  Christiaan Amanpour got my respect for covering major turning points in our history by being in the center of all the literally and figuratively hard hitting news.  But there’s a limit to being a journalist.  And in situations where rules of engagement are aspired to be followed to the dot, a plea not to add more to the problem should be heeded.  Had the media people left when they were asked to leave or even just stay in a safer place, things would not have had turned really sour. 

As Spidey’s uncle wisely put it, “With great power comes great responsibility.”  I could not agree more.

Thrilla with Trillanes

I’ve never been a fan of the guy.  Don’t get me wrong, I don’t personally like GMA that much either.  But there are just things that you see when you think out of the box and look at the bigger picture.

While speculations are not admissible as hard evidence in the court of law, I think Filipinos believe that the president is more corrupt than any other leader in our country since time immemorial.  But one of the reasons why I love George Orwell is the last part of his book, Animal Farm.  That part where the other animals in the farm peeped into the house through the windows and watched the pigs and the human visitors at the dining table until they could no longer distinguish one from the other. 

In college, I participated in DGs (discussion groups) and EDs (educational discussions) about the Philippine society and the need for change.  I have memorized the “triangle” by heart and have finished the MKLRP and PSR—please look it up because talking about it at length would make me digress some more.  I joined mobs and vigils.  I had my fair share of being this close to getting cuffed for vandalism but there are things that bourgeoisie entails that paved the way for my enlightenment and eventual realization of what I truly need as a person and as a citizen of this country.  Perhaps, I blame it on the “animals” who led the move to overthrow the “humans” only to become what we crusaded against. 

Indeed aging makes you realize things.  Indeed experience teaches you a lot.  I was in EDSA 2 and that was one of the major highlights of my political life.  The spontaneity of the first few days and the last day have made it very memorable. 

There’s this coffee table book that shows huge pictures of People Power when the Marcos regime finally fell to the raging bulls of enlightened masses—working class and bourgeois alike, that never fails to make me teary-eyed.  It was like seeing a phoenix spring back to life from the ashes.  But it was Ninoy Aquino’s death that ignited that rage—this word always reminds me of Chikoy Pura of The Jerks—and it was death in general that moved mountains. 

Now, there’s this cub politician who thinks so highly of himself having come from an upper class family and having a decent-enough-looking face.  The man that people sent to the senate despite his incarceration thinking that he can still serve effectively behind bars.  It didn’t take that long before the prison cell became a Hotel California.  This reminds me of my Pol. Sci. 14 topic about ceremonial powers. 

Anyway, I do not discount Mr. Trillanes’ bravery and bravado but lack of foresight, maturity and cunning is something that a man of his stature reeks of.  He arrogantly proudly took to the streets and once again disrespected the judicial system of the land that he claims to love so much.  So much that he proudly declared that he is determined to die for it.   Looking back, I can still see the Magdalo guys who shared his bravado.  They proudly asserted their desire to die for the common good.  But what good came out of it?  The hotel that has been one of the major landmarks of the whole Metro Manila and of the Philippines has suffered a major physical and financial blow.  The media people were treated in ways reminiscent of the 70s and 80s.  The stock market felt a huge dent although the peso remained strong. 

What if?  The Magdalo guys except for Trillanes, Faeldon and Lim died in battle.  Would there have been an outcry?  Had they succeeded, would we have liked a military junta?  Had they succeeded, would we have been happier with Trillanes as our president?  Or whoever else?  Had the soldiers died and the takeover succeeded, would they have given back the losses that the establishments incurred?  Would they have been able to fully support the families of the dead personnel?  Trillanes is lucky.  He can afford to be unemployed.  But what about the others? 

The cinematic scenes that unfolded two days ago took up so much of my time and it ended with an ironic smile.  Some people simply do not learn. 

If someone died…oh well, that would have been SOMETHING!

Giggles and Flirtation

I used to actively chat via mIRC when I started out in college.  I guess it was around the time when the now extremely popular IRC client took its babysteps too.  Then came ICQ (an oronym for I seek you) but I never really liked it for some reason.  It was around that time when I first created my Yahoomail and Eudoramail accounts.  Looking back, I can never really believe how far everything has gone.  During that time, sending SMS was limited to the rich kids.  But later on, mobile phones have become almost an extention to our body parts.  Even the families who could barely eat three square meals have at least one. 

When my father’s aide asked permission to buy a cellphone, I had a long talk with him.  I told him that while I don’t have anything to do with whatever he does with his life and his money, we definitely hope that buying a gadget that would test his priorities, would not affect his priorities.  He came here from a far-flung barrio where his father would beat him up if he couldn’t hand over a few coins to buy booze.  He came here because we need him as much as he needs us.  My father is paralyzed and because old men are the most hard-headed patients in the world, he has never recovered from his stroke.  He has become totally dependent to the not-so-young boy for even the simplest of things—from scratching his back to feeding him—to the messiest of them all, like wiping him clean after defecating, sponge-bathing him, and doing covert ops just so he could eat ice cream in the middle of the night when my mom specifically told him not to and so many other things.  My dad, even when he was in tiptop shape, has always been a handful.  That’s where I got most of my traits, I guess—his gene pool.  So anyway, we all know how it felt like when we first had our first ever mobile phone with SMS capabilities.  I kinda expected the changing of ringing tones, message alert tones, the horrendous volume, the non-stop-I’ll-trip-over-but-I-dont-care-just-so-long-as-i-can-finish-this-message thing, etc.  Because I am nocturnal, I get really hot-headed in the morning a few minutes before I sleep or when my sleep is interrupted during the day.  And because he had his message alert tone changed to some pop tune, the darn phone pumps up the volume non stop after lunch when everybody in the house is asleep for siesta, including him.  And because I’m a light sleeper–that depends actually on the kind of noise–I always get to be the one who hears the alert.  After three consecutive messages, I rush downstairs and try to find the darn phone and lo! and behold! it’s right near the landline phone in the living room.  So I looked for the owner of the loud phone.  And my, oh, my, the good boy is in deep slumber, with his mouth wide open as if waiting for manna from heaven to fall.  So there I was, fully awake after around just 3 hours of sleep after almost 36 hours of working.  In a very bad mood.  I make it a point never to do anything when I’m all angry and pissed.  And so I tried desperately to go back to sleep.  So sleep I did until around 7PM which made my head hurt real bad.  I don’t like sleeping till around that time because it always makes my head hurt like hell.  I went back to work and downed a whole pint of vanilla ice cream.  God, that was heavenly.

And so one day, I called him and asked him to sit down for another one of my attempts at diplomacy.  So I said…I understand how it is to have a new phone and to be new in the SMS arena but if could just put his phone in silent mode when he’s in Papa’s room, that would really be great.  Or he could leave his cellphone in his room so it won’t disturb anyone if he doesn’t want to change the alert tone. 

A few hours later, I heard the phone screaming mercilessly.  So I called him and asked him what’s going on.  He had the volume set to 5 so he could hear it even from Papa’s room.  Now, isn’t he wise!

So anyway, our houseboy has expanded his vocabulary, thanks to text education, to a few more English words.  He has also acted like a male dog in heat.  He has since become (and became) the boyfriend of almost all the housemaids in the subdivision and in the nearby bakery. 

Much to my mom’s utter disgust, of course.  But I try to tell her that I understand.  It’s so easy to flirt over the phone, online and even over the good old snail mail—pen pals anyone?  We all have different worlds and for people who do not have to think of anything else other than waking up and serving his bosses, I think he deserves whatever surge of lust or something like it that he’s been indulging to these days.  SO LONG AS IT DOES NOT AFFECT HIS WORK.  Well, there have been lapses but I think things have been addressed pretty clearly and I am keeping my fingers crossed that nothing bad will happen.  What is a little concession like that for days of peace and order!  If it makes him happy, then it causes a chain reaction.  Happy employees are more effectively productive and that means happier employer.

So, now, let’s go back to moi.  I once had a two-year relationship with a guy I met online way back in college.  Well, make that three.  The other two were merely sinfully wonderful and memorable flings so they don’t really count as relationships but just for the sake of statistics, let’s count them in.  There’s something about exchanging naughty and teasing comments with someone who’s not physically near you that makes things a whole lot more, er, tingly. 

When the cameras were integrated into mobile phones, my then boyfriend asked me to send him “sexy” pix and he returned the favor.  Since I was in a semi-long distance relationships, the ooohs and aaaahs over texts and later phone calls sufficed.  Then with the advent of more modern tech, um, simultaneous indulgence of self-help developed cult-like support online.  Sad to say, it has degenerated the nature of flirting and harmless chatting with strangers. 

I traverse the long and winding information superhighway every day and because of that people constantly ask me what cybersex is, or if I’ve met someone online who will whisk me off poverty in the Philippines to some sugar-coated gingerbread house in the land of milk and honey or somewhere far from this Pearl of the Orient.  Well, I can explain in a very clinical and academic way what cybersex is and how it is done but in terms of chatting with someone who will eventually become a special part of my life, the answer is a resounding, eeeeeenkkkkk! 

NO.  As a single (Asian) female, I do get into those moods when I feel like I really want to be with someone.  My former landlady tells me I’m on NPO for now—medical practitioners, go figure—and for someone who had been not on NPO for a collective and straight seven or so years, it’s quite hard.  They say you don’t crave for something that you haven’t really tried.  Well, I have and so I crave.  But despite being a cosmo girl who understood Carrie’s consternation at the prospect of losing her Manolos to a “shoe-napper”, I think my quick tumble in the hay days are over.  I am not into that anymore.  Well, if the opportunity presents itself, why not?  But I have made my circle so small that even I could not turn around that easily.  So what opportunity are we talking about?  I’m not complaining, mind you.  But the thing is, I meet people online.  From work, through blogs, through wherever.  And while I am a natural tease and flirt, being asked for a cam view and for something to start a few minutes after you even say hi, is a tad too weird for me.  After a long hiatus from chatting, I tried getting into one of those chatrooms in Yahoo and jeeez, people seem to talk in one language and all they ask and talk about is sex, cams and cums!  Whatever happened to friendship and getting to know you while we flirt occasionally without really meaning anything much?  It’s just me getting all cheeky and clenched butt. 

I remember one masseuse who’s a friend of my mom.  She’s quite talkative—a trait that I really do not appreciate while getting a massage.  But when conversations turn green, even in my half-awake, half-asleep state, my ears still perk up.  So anyway, she just got widowed and so she’s been the brunt of jokes about looking for an “American” (the word is enclosed in quotation marks because sometimes we have this penchant of calling all foreigners American) husband.  She said she tried chatting but she gets uncomfy when the guy that she chats up with shows his dick right out and asks her to show her boobs or slit in return.  So she makes up excuses about not having a cam and all that jazz while she and her relatives watch while the “American” on the other side of the internet touches himself till everything limps down and the guy excused himself so he can “dry off” and “clean up” that usually means going to the bathroom or grabbing a roll of toilet paper for some. 

While I do not want to sound prissy, this simply does not turn me on.  I don’t know.  I get turned on by witty conversations that are peppered with flirtations and naughty innuendos but being other than that, I can always get into the part and just type some “motivational” lines for the other party. 

Needless to say, I’m not on a serious quest to find someone who’ll treat me like a princess and not for anything else.  When I’m 30 and I’m still not “in a relationship” as Friendster puts it, I will panic.  But only for a moment.  I think I have a healthy enough self-esteem to know that it’s not being in a relationship that matters—it’s in having fun while we can in a way that we will have fun indeed.  Perhaps, I still have unresolved personal issues to take care of and I think I will not make a good partner until I iron out whatever ugly wrinkles there are in my shirt. 

I have recently been getting proofs how big a liar my ex-boyfriend is and his audacity of continuously denying so many things even when I know what the real score is have been such huge downers lately.  Well, there’s work.  It gets me down but not emotionally so occasional online flirtations with people that I don’t really know, help big time.  Well, I’m choosy.  I don’t like wimps and younger guys.  And I have very little time.  So when I do get into that kind of mood, I’ll go for knights (or badass chicks!) in rusty armors while I wear my French maid’s costume.  Don’t get me started on how to use the feather duster!  LOL. 

But well, I miss blogging and even if I’m not making any sense, I am quite happy that I have blabbered a thought too many somehow. 

Oh, and I’m not in THAT mood right now, with over 70 web pages to revise, I don’t think I can afford to let out even a lusty sigh.  So, a piu tardi! Molto grazie! Ciao! 

O Clement, O Loving, O Sweet GMA (No Blasphemy Intended)

Conspiracy Theories — Pinoy Style

This entry is supposed to be posted the day the “executive clemency” was given to our country’s former prexy but I was not able to get down and really finish it so, I hope this entry will not cause any confusion to anybody who might stumble upon my blog. As if someone ever will.  LOL.

I am at a point where I have gone numb.  Over the past few days, I’ve been throwing possible conspiracy theories at my mom and she’s been rolling her eyes every time I do that.  Some are products of a seemingly cynical mind, some are figment of a very hopeful spirit.   

As one of those who felt vindicated when the guilty verdict was released by the two justice halls, the news of President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo’s issuance of an executive clemency for former President Joseph Estrada is a tad too disheartening.  While I understand that human nature, especially that of the Filipino, makes us look kindly at older people, regardless of how guilty and legally-declared corrupt they may be, I feel that it’s too soon.  I, myself, would have wanted the former president pardoned and, well, forgiven—really.  But that’s just me.  And I figured that he should at least have stayed in the Bilibid Prison for some time, say, a year, or even six months.  And then he could be granted that clemency, but not this soon. 

So back to those controversies…

1) JDV/FVR vs. GMA — JDV used to be consistently a play-it-safe-traditional-politician.  He’s known for being an avid Lakas loyalist.  FVR, on the other hand, has always been a major player in most major turning points in the political arena in our country, way back in 1986 to the Edsa 2 success to the possible GMA ouster soon.  The two of them “adopted” the number one turncoat in our country, GMA in 1998.  When they coalesced, they became the team to beat.  Lately, GMA’s KAMPI has been having problems with LAKAS members especially in the LGU. 

a)  The Speakership of the House this year — Congressman Pablo Garcia, former governor of Cebu, is a known stalwart of GMA.  Cebu sealed GMA’s victory in the last presidential election—honestly?  You decide.  Members of Kampi made noise about nominating Garcia and for a moment, the usually nonchalant JDV appeared flustered.  But he won anyway. 

b) The ZTE Deal — Absolute power corrupts absolutely.  Give me a politician who has never tinkered with his office’s budget.  I know Joker Arroyo cuts down on his office’s expenses and he is known to a few as the senator whose office has the largest savings every fiscal year.  He pays for his own travel expenses and other stuff.  Well, I’m a Joker Arroyo fan so I may be biased.  Many say that he may have gotten money from wherever and stashed it somewhere.  Well, I couldn’t care less about that anymore.  It boils down to my first sentence in this paragraph.   So anyway, as Miriam Santiago said during that infamous session where she walked out afterwards, it’s a case of half-truths and doublecrossers.  Joker also earlier remarked that it was a mere case of “commissioners.”

Now, one thing has baffled me greatly.  JDV seems to be making his son do the dirty work for him.  He feeds him with statements like the “screaming” GMA in a private meeting, etc.  I mean, they seem to be talking openly about these things.  GMA’s attitude towards JDV seems to be “unaffected” with JDV’s son’s accusations.  But every day, the young De Venecia detonates one bomb after the other and the opposition senators are giving him their time of day as if his accusations could actually alleviate the country’s poverty.   JDV has always been cunning.  But he’s not exactly the brainy and brawny type.  So that makes me think of someone who is–FVR.  According to Teodoro Agoncillo, Filipinos are by nature regionalistic (think Desperate Housewives, then think Wisteria Lane).  FVR and JDV both hail from Pangasinan and they have always been “tight”.  I mean if they’re still “ok” within their coalition, shouldn’t this issue have died down by now?  But the young JDV seems to be unstoppable.  He does not seem to want to give up to the point of now including GMA into the questionable ZTE deal.  I don’t get it.  If there’s really a case, why not take it to court or something?  The senators are not paid daily or per session so why are they letting this drag on day by day?  I mean, there’s Doble who keeps on changing his statements depending on his moodswings and they like talking to him as well but the ZTE deal seems to be a more interesting deal for them. 

c)  Cash Gifts — I have been “baptized” by political waters so I’m not new to cash being casually handed over, slipped under piles of forms submitted for registrations and whatnots, or slipped directly into pockets, or even of sacks of bills being brought in for “supporters and volunteers”, and so many other things that political parties are known to play around with.  Now, Gov. Panlilio, bless his heart, is a neophyte.  Despite all that he may be, he is still a priest who thinks that he can exorcise corruption in the government by taking his frock off and donning a government official’s casual garb.  Now, he get’s “baptized” and receives his first (or is it?) “bundle of joy”.  Not knowing what better way to deal with it, he pressed the button and said, Deal!  Happily, he went home to his constituents and said, ok, we have money, now let’s do create some waiting sheds (that’s me speculating, folks, but based on his earlier pronouncements).

Makes me wonder…could there be a plot to squash Arroyo somewhere?  Has she outlived her usefulness?  Or is she too smart to play marionette?

2)  GMA-ERAP — It all started with the pardon.  Then with ex-president Estrada calling GMA, Madam President.  Then the let’s-clap-our-hands-for-her-for-if-not-for-her-I-won’t-be-here-blah spiel in San Juan.  Then Erap’s I-will-support-her declaration.  Could it be that with GMA being the cunning woman that she is is reassessing her aces and chess move strategies?  Could she be thinking of using the knight instead of the rook? 

I personally feel that it’s too soon.  Filipinos are naturally forgiving and forgetful so I am not particularly surprised when the executive clemency was issued.  But I did not expect it to happen far too soon.  As an EDSA Dos attendee, I feel bad.  As if it was all for nothing.  But the people who have realigned and supported Erap for the sake of going against GMA are now making noise about the whole pardon thing! 

Look at these people.  They have called for GMA’s resignation, impeachment, etc., but they have always looked kindly on Erap.  Probably because we always have the heart for the underdogs and when Erap was still “in prison” he was an underdog compared to GMA.  But not anymore.  Those who are pro-Erap are celebrating and are somehow swayed by Erap’s let’s-clap-for-her call.  These leaves us with those who rode on Erap’s “poor state” to be in the limelight.  Now we see who’s who and who’s with whom.  Now, people are showing their fangs.  They want Erap thrown into jail and GMA with him.  I don’t get it.  Yes, the present president who has never batted an eyelash for so many parodies and name-calling against her, is taking the fall.  I’m not saying she’s perfect.  But for someone who’s been the object of so many impeachment campaigns and so many political and personal attacks, she has kept hold of the reins.  She must really be something.  Marcos fell after people finally realized what was going on and took to the streets.  And he’s really smart!  Not to mention over  five feet!  But this petite lady is a force to reckon with.  I do not like her personally.  But hey, we’ve, at one point in our lives, worked with someone we do not personally like and approve of effectively.  That team behind her, her image handlers and whatever they’re called is one kick-ass team.  Well, it all started with using the Nora Aunor look-alike come-hither and then that pose, remember her then senatorial campaign posters that ultimately catapulted her to the number one slot?  One thing I know for sure, she is a woman.  She reshuffles her cabinet members the way I rearrange our furniture.  And with Hilary Clinton taking the lead from Obama, who knows what could happen next with her association with the Clintons and all?  For people like me who work with people overseas and thus getting paid in dollars, the present state of the peso is not a laughing matter.  But it makes you pause for a moment and think that this is not something that is just for a show.  The peso has been stable for over a year now.  

I’m a positive thinker.  I learned never to entertain negative vibes.  So I always look at the brighter side of things.  I try, at least.  Now, GMA is very vocal about the call for unity and healing from Day One.  And I think she’s being consistent to that.  So while I am not jumping up and down my seat with the latest development with Erap, I would like to believe that this is indeed in line with her thrust. Well, let me say one more “Salut!” to her speech writers.  Anybody who has heard her speeches and SONAs would know what I am talking about.

Going back to my psychedelic imagination about conspiracies–couldn’t it be a ploy to strengthen her artillery since FVR and JDV seem to be dropping her?

I’m really just confused.  After all, I’m not a political analyst.  I am no longer an activist.  I don’t believe in just one ideology but I believe in cosmic justice and retribution.  Above all, I am an advocate of humanism.   Having volunteered for various UN and independent non-profit organizations, I have come to appreciate the little luxuries that I have and the small blessings that come my way.  After talking to a Burmese missionary around 5 years ago, I have come to appreciate the small liberties that we get to enjoy.  So I guess all I want in my life is to just to be able to walk freely and talk about what I feel with utmost candor.  And I guess I am enjoying all that.  But as a human being, I cannot be contented with just that.  I want more.  And I’m sure the rest of my countrymen wants more as well.  But do we really know what we want?  If GMA is ousted, who do we think is the best person to take her place now?  De Castro? Villar? JDV? Roxas? Escudero? Legarda? Aquino? Erap? Trillanes? The Chief Justice? 

UPDATE:

Weeks after that fateful release of Erap, GMA had a close-door meeting with FVR and JDV and even if the younger JDV gave residual publicity somersaults, the ZTE issue and all the other things behind it seemed to have closed their doors as well. 

Die Hard 4.5–One More Spoof, Bisaya Edition

Yet another spoof from the same funny Ozamiznon. 

Warning: 

May be offensive to some.  This is just a spoof and should not be taken as anything otherwise. 

This is in Cebuano and I believe I can’t do justice to it by translating it to any other language so…

Watch at your own risk.

Troy–Yet Another Spoof, Bisaya Edition

Warning: 

May be offensive to some.  This is just a spoof and should not be taken as anything otherwise. 

This is in Cebuano and I believe I can’t do justice to it by translating it to any other language so…

Watch at your own risk.

Harry Potter–Bisaya Edition

This is a Harry Potter spoof from a fellow Ozamiznon.  Way to go, Bai.  Hehehe.  LMAO gyud.

Warning: 

May be offensive to some.  This is just a spoof and should not be taken as anything otherwise. 

This is in Cebuano and I believe I can’t do justice to it by translating it to any other language so…

Watch at your own risk.

I’m a 2!

I always thought that I was a 9 in Enneagram but I took around 4 tests in various online sites and I always get 2 so I guess I’m a 2!  Hmmm… 

Guess there’s some goodness in this bitchy person I call myself, after all.

My result from Tickle.com:

You’re a Type 2 – The Humanitarian

Friends, family, and colleagues probably appreciate your caring and generous nature. They’re also apt to know that when they come to you with a problem, you’ll usually offer a shoulder to cry on and unparalleled compassion. As a Humanitarian, you’re likely to be seen as a loving and helpful person with a kind heart.

Being a member of this type puts you in good company. Mother Teresa, with her tireless devotion to aid the sick and destitute members of society, and Bishop Desmond Tutu, with his emphasis on nonviolent protest against racial injustices, are also Type 2s
This means that compared to the eight other Enneagram types, you have a strong sense of empathy for other people. In fact, you’re the kind of warm, sincere person who can be uniquely capable of seeing the good in others.

Something SPOOK-tacular!

I’m helping my friends at KidsAhoy spread the word about their Halloween Party.  

KidsAhoyShop.com cordially invites you to join them in a SPOOK-TACULAR “Ghost-hunting By the Ruins!” an Exclusive Halloween Experience!

Where: Patio of Casa Manila, Intramuros (front of San Agustin Church, Intramuros, Manila)
When: Oct. 28, 2007 SUNDAY
             Batch 1 : 5:00-7:00PM
             Batch 2 : 7:15-9:15PM

For kids of all ages, even the kid-at-heart! Walk-through our haunted trail, collect treats and encounter scary, weird and wacky characters along the way. At the end of your journey, enjoy a bloody drink, a ghastly feast of “intestines, hearts, eyeballs & fingers”, a spook-tacularly fun story and song around the campfire plus other games, activities and surprises!
*Kids: trick or treat & snacks included
*Adult: snacks included

Halloween costumes encouraged! Prize awaits the Winning Costume (Kids & Adults Categories)

ENTRANCE FEE: P500 per CHILD
LIMITED SLOTS ONLY : PRE-REGISTRATION/PRE-PAYMENT REQUIRED
You will be assigned a start time when you register. Times are assigned in the order as they are received so register
early! A maximum of 150 persons per batch will be strictly enforced. Kids under 7yrs old are required to enter with ONE
parent/adult companion (discounted rate of P250/adult)

Batch 1: 5:00pm (’til 7:00pm), ideal for all kids below 12yrs old
Batch 2: 7:15pm (’til 9:15pm), ideal for 13+yrs old and grown-ups

INVITE EVERYONE TO JOIN IN THE FUN!
GROUP DISCOUNTS: AT LEAST 20 KIDS/group (20% off)

BE A KIDSAHOY TRAILBLAZERS CLUB MEMBER & AVAIL OF DISCOUNTS (Pathfinder: 10% off /Vanguard: FREE
ENTRANCE)

HURRY & GET YOUR EXCLUSIVE PASS NOW!

For details, contact KIDSAHOY@YAHOO.COM / 0920-5178127 / or visit www.kidsahoyshop.com

So, if you’re in the area, bring the whole family (invite all the kids you know too) and enjoy a one-of-a-kind SPOOK-Tacular Night!

Draft–A Stab at Fantasy Fiction

A solitary figure is leaning against the moss-covered stone wall of the deserted lane leading to edge of the city. It is very late at night and only the moon that seems to be hiding behind the clouds is slightly illuminating the abandoned and muddy road. The dark blue cloak that he is wearing that is flapping in the wind and the heavy robe underneath that saw better times have done nothing to conceal his agitation and irritation. He shifts his weight from one foot to another as he listens anew to the sounds that he earlier picked up. Beneath his robes, his muscles tense as his sword-arm reached for the cold metal hilt of his blade as if it had a mind of its own. His hardened ebon eyes darted carefully from the far end of the road for any sign of movement to the other end and back. He cursed beneath his breath at the vulnerability of his situation. True to character, his patience grew thin.  

“The old fool really has a way of driving me to the edge.  The harlot should be thrown into the pits of hell without any more ado.” 

The note delivered to him earlier in the day was unmistakably from Nèohar. It had not revealed much save that he agreed to meet him in his house.  There was nothing unusual about the letter except that it contained encrypted instructions on which route he should take.  He does not like unfamiliar territories especially those in the outskirts of the city that reminds him of how Nèohar, who was then in the prime of his youth, saved him from the gods of death in the life-forsaken streets of Ìhbian a few decades ago.  The Fates looked at him unkindly.  But Nèohar, ah, Nèohar.   The thought of the old man brought a faint hint of a smile to his hard face that is marred and etched with all the years that saw nothing but bloodshed and betrayal, and to the cynical and piercing eyes that longed to see a new day.  There are very few people that he trusts now.  

“I would not have come if not for the Order… Surely, what had befallen the realm must be much worse than what it already is…” he continues to talk to himself.  Besides, he can never let tragedy strike Nèohar, regardless of how inescapable it is.  Only the old man knows of his even darker past but has continued to look at him with favor.  Casting another cursory look at the alley that he just left, he walked fast to the opposite side of the road and went inside a small passageway looked like any ordinary door.  Darting a quick glance to his right and then to his left, he starts to walk again so fast that his feet did not seem to touch the pavement.    

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

In his study, Nèohar shivered as a sudden surge of fear hissing with coldness in the dark humid night creeps up his spine.   

“Òhrudin… Òhrudin… please hurry.” he said in a voice that sounded almost like a whimper, as if the warm breeze would deliver the plea to the intended.  He stood up and walked around the room that has seen far too many of these clandestine meetings.  He touched the gold trimmings that adorn the corners of the small chest that sits on his table.  He opened its lid and caressed the rolls of parchment that sat quietly under the velvety linings that hid them from view.  He lifted the miniature strongbox that held far greater treasures than the whole kingdom ever did.  He gently removed his sword from its scabbard and watched as the moon caressed its blade with its light.  He placed it on his table and sat down.  He clasped his hands together, held the box to his chest and waited.  

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

Òhrudin stepped out of the shadows and took several strides toward Nèohar from behind the heavy curtains near the window.   

“Òhrudin?  Is that you?” Nèohar asked.  

“Hush!  Do not tell me that your eyes begin to fail you, my old friend.” he replied and hugged Nèohar. “We do not have time to spare.  We have to leave at once.  With greed playing its aces, no one is left to be trusted.  Not even me.  But we must depart for…” 

“I know my friend.  But I have to do something first.  In time you will understand.  But for now, do something for me.  I need you to hide this and bring this to the place where things will be made right.  The hands of the great clock are not slowing down and it will not wait for you.  So, leave now.”   

Òhrudin saw something move in the darkness and his hand on its own accord clutched the haft of his sword.  On instinct he had assumed a defensive stance, placing himself between his friend and their hidden foe.  He had crouched in front of Neohar and in one graceful move, unsheathed his finely-crafted sword. He intensely peered into the dark as he tried to sense the other’s presence. He was now sure he saw… no, felt movement at the bushes beside the far end of the road. Had he imagined it? It was so quick… so quiet… but his instinct told him otherwise. In situations such as these, it has always been instinct that has saved him time and again. It was this he trusted. It is this that he leans on to now. He suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder.    

“What must happen must happen.  What I am asking you is far greater than my safety.  So please leave now.  Take that to where it truly belongs so that destiny will freely spread its wings in flight.” Nèohar told him in a tone that the old man never used on him before.   

“But…” Òhrudin tried to reason with Nèohar.

“Do as I had said.  Proceed to where I told you to go… look for him… all will be explained… before it is too late…Farewell…my friend…” 

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

 The shadow moved with the slight breeze.  Any moment now, the moon would take a quick respite behind the clouds.  Timing was essential.  The assassin couldn’t afford to let the old man gain an upper hand.  Timing was the key.  Surprise would be the greatest advantage.  The shadow slithered up the west wall to scour the place for any sign of movement.  With the silent confidence of someone highly seasoned in the art of war, the assassin stepped quietly from the shadows, in a black robe that would have contrasted starkly with the pale moonlight. Without so much as an inadvertent crunch of the pavement, the assassin made it into the chambers of Nèohar.  And the waiting begins. 

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

Angered at how fate could be so cruel as to put his dear friend in such a perilous position, Òhrudin stormed out of Nèohar’s study.  Such was fitting for someone like himself but not for one like Nèohar. He wanted to scream and plunge his cold blade deep into the dark of the night.  But he knew that the Order would not be pleased by any reckless move from him.  He clutched the box tightly and stealthily took the route that he earlier used.   

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

Nèohar was ready.  He held his breath as the shadow shifted almost imperceptibly, tightening up like a predator tensing before the strike, and then coalescing into the menacing shape of a viper.  In the stillness of the night, no more than a strangled cry reverberated in silence as the long dagger was plunged into the exposed side of victim’s neck and wrenched it from side to side without as much as a bat of an eyelash. With ferocity that only a trained assassin could muster, the assailant twisted the neck that heralded a merciless death where only the night was the lone witness.

This is just a teaser.  The actual manuscript is still in the works.

Free Fallin’

A pingback today brought me back to good ‘ol dormdays in UP.  There’s this band, The Bridge, whose members (there were just three of them then, I’m not really sure if they’ve added a few more to their team) are the type who would make any “girl” giggle—brooding look, silent, very talented, seemingly shy, lanky, unshaven, in jeans, husky, husky voice!—you get the picture, girls!  Well, they didn’t have that much of a following but in our dorm and theirs, they were already celebs in their own right.  One of my closest friends had a huge crush on one of their lead vocalist that there were moments when we really stalked the guy! Then I developed a huge crush on his cousin, who was also a major role player in their band.  In UP Fair ‘98, they gave an undies-snapping rendition of Change the World by Eric Clapton.  They figured in so many other gigs in UP and in the small but popular bars near UP (70s Bistro, Freedom Cafe, Ora Cafe–those were their names then).  Their favorite song, or so we thought, because they used to sing it a lot, was Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers’ Free Fallin’ and man, what a song.  I mean we, women, are drawn to bad guys who are full of angst and a soft spot somewhere.  So, check this out:

“Free Fallin’”
Free Fallin

By Tom Petty and Jeff Lynne
Copyright © 1989 Gone Gator Music (ASCAP)/ SBK April Music Inc. (ASCAP)
All rights reserved. Used by permission.

She’s a good girl, loves her mama
loves Jesus and America too
She’s a good girl, crazy ’bout Elvis
loves horses and her boyfriend too

It’s a long day livin’ in Reseda
there’s a freeway runnin’ through the yard
and I’m a bad boy, ’cause I don’t even miss her
I’m a bad boy for breakin’ her heart

Chorus
And I’m free, I’m free fallin’

All the vampires walkin’ through the valley
move west down Ventura Blvd.
And all the bad boys are standing in the shadows
All the good girls are home with broken hearts

(Repeat Chorus)

I wanna glide down over Mulholland
I wanna write her name in the sky
I wanna free fall out into nothin’
Gonna leave this world for awhile

(Repeat Chorus)

Yadda Yadda

You know what jumpstarts my otherwise mundane daily routine to make it totally different from my now caffeine-operated robot of a self?  Reading something really good online.  And the extra spice?  When it’s for me. 

I’m not talking about romantic or even semi-romantic stuff.  I’m just talking about e-mails, notes, comments—anything.  I probably don’t get much attention in that department these days save for follow-up for deadlines, questions about agenda, queries about the new concept, etc—nada for the life underneath this gorgeous robot. 

So when I read something so simple yet so finely chiseled, I am blown away and it makes me happy and giddy and more inspired to work.  In the few months that I have reared my head into the blogging neighborhood, I’ve met a few interesting characters—some are very nice and friendly, others are purely vicious and bitchy (typical of us, girls), some are naughty and nice, and some are downright snob.  It’s a free world so there’s nothing to get really hyped up about.  In a world where cliques reign, a non-conformist and sociopath like me, likes to stay away from the maddening crowd and to keep everything under the street—the way the Beast did in the old Beauty and the Beast TV series with Ron Perlman and Linda Hamilton. 

So to all those who have made my day, thank you.  Hope to see you more often, in my inbox, in my blog, in my cosmic path, anywhere.

On Racial Slur and Political Satire

I saved talking about the Desperate Housewives until all the noise and strong surge of emotions have ebbed down partly because of procrastination and of pure laziness.

Well, like most women who have watched Oprah, I have become a fan.  Not only because I have good vibes about her but because she empowers women and encourages us to take control of our lives.  She’s the woman that I want to be.  She’s in a happy relationship even if  she’s not married.  She is suuuuuuppppperrrrr rich.  She doesn’t have so many hang-ups.  She’s true to herself and she never hesitates to own up her mistakes.  She worked her ass off to get to where she is now and have made dreams come true for so many people around the world.  She’s also like any other woman, or girl—she wants to look good, lose weight, look good, be heard, look good, talk about other people, look good—you get the picture.  So, everytime her show’s not on hiatus, I make it a point to catch every episode on TV.   I laughed and cried over so many things in her show.  It is also through Oprah that I learned about Desperate Housewives.  There was this one episode where she did a “scene” for the TV series.  Of course it wasn’t part of the storyline or of the aired episodes.  It was more like a mock episode. 

When I watched the first episode, I immediately became an avid follower of the show.  The show’s funny and it depicts the lives of women whose issues have never really been talked about much in public.  Like Bree, for instance, she is a typical OCD case.  She looks immaculate at all times, throws the best organized parties and events, aces at good manners, cleans every nook and cranny of their house, does all chores from keeping the utensils sparklingly clean to baking cakes to fixing any broken stuff in the house. Think Stepford Wives.  But deep inside is a woman who craves nothing more than a simple thank you.  She’s the broken soul behind the facade of being the perfect wife and mother in a seemingly perfect family. There’s Lynette who gave up a successful career in the corporate world to become a full-fledged high-strung, stressed-out mom of four hard-to-handle boys.  There’s Gabrielle whose oozing sex appeal has made Eva Longoria, the actress who plays the part of Gabrielle Solis, the most-searched celebrity in Google at some point.  She’s the former model who married for money but soon realized that 3-carat diamond pendants will never compensate for the absence of marital bliss.  So she turns to their young gardener, John.  Who could forget those sensual scenes with John and the episode where she had to make a quick dash from a party to mow the lawn just so John, a minor, won’t get fired.  And then, there’s Susan, a divorced mom, who acts like she’s the daughter.  She’s Lizzie Maguire, um, three decades after.  She has the penchant for making verbal and actual faux pas here and there, and attracts disaster the way honey attracts bees.  Of them all, she seems to be the poorest, the usually misinformed, the most naive and the poster girl for inferiority complex.  She trips, gets locked out of her own house naked, accidentally burns a neighbor’s house down and a whole lot more.  You get the picture. 

Then there’s Edie.  The woman that women love to hate and men love.  She’s the slutty neighbor who is into real estate.  She was originally a minor character in the series but later on went up the ladder to become one of the now five-lead cast.  And of course, who will miss Mary Alice Young.  The woman who killed herself in the first season but “lived on” to narrate the story of the people in Wisteria Lane, as if she’s just there, privy to all the secrets in the lives of the housewives who were her friends when she was still alive and who have remained loyal to her even after all the skeletons have been dragged out of the closet. 

Another controversial TV show is The Daily Show with Jon Stewart.  Now, there’s a guy that I truly admire.  He hates George W. Bush’s guts, or should I say, butt?  He was accused of being a John Kerry buttwipe, that’s why.  LOL.  But anyway, the show is a political satire and like any other political satirist, he goes overboard about people, events, and many others but mostly on George W. Bush.  I love to laugh.  Ask my mom.  I’m a happy person, or so I tell myself everyday.    I will never forget the much-talked about televised “heated” exchange that he had with the anchors of the now defunk Crossfire.  My respect for the guy went up a million notches higher.  I have always had a soft [G-]spot for guys with ATTITUDE and those who are funny in a non-slapstick kinda way.  So The Daily Show with Jon Stewart is one of my favorite Comedy Central shows.  Well, of course, there’s South Park too.  But I got tired with seeing Kenny die at the end everytime so well, going back to Jon Stewart, he went to Crossfire, a CNN TV show with a debate format.  Just as I got tired of watching Kenny die at the end of South Park episodes, Jon Stewart went to the show when he got an invitation to be the guest for the day.  During the course of the discussion where he was criticized for ass-kissing then presidential candidate John Kerry, he told the anchors that the show was hurting the country and its people because of their “partisan hacks” and pleaded them to stop doing that.  He went on and said that claiming to be a debate show is akin to saying that pro-wrestling is an athletic competition.  Oh, and my favorite part there was when the overreacting Tucker Carlson told him that he wasn’t as funny in person as he is on his show to which Jon Stewart said, “you’re as big a dick on your show as you are on any show.”  Whoa!  The full transcript of that episode can be found here.  I loved it when Carlson told him that he was being funny.  When he recounted his experience in Crossfire in The Daily Show, he said that he replied by saying something like, “I know.  But tomorrow, I’ll be back to being funny and your show will still blow.” See?  He rocks! Talk about balls—hard-rock balls!  Yeah baby!

Ok.  So while I have been hogging the phone and internet lines for my work and minding my own business, way before Manny Pacquiao won the boxing rematch with Barrera, two very controversial TV shows made it to the Philippines’ hitlist.  The two shows that I just talked about. 

Now, my first reaction the the scene with Teri Hatcher in it as Susan was to laugh.  It was funny and very typical of Susan.  For those who are regular viewers of the show would agree with me that the show, for all its hype, revolves around all kinds of discrimination.  If we cried foul because the Philippine med schools were mentioned, imagine how the Mexicans must have felt everytime the show goes on air!  I mean, Gabrielle and Carlos, Carlos’ mom, and even John,  depict Mexicans and Latinos, in a not-so-good light.  And of course there are those scenes that demean Japanese and Chinese.  We haven’t really heard China or Japan or Mexico react so vehemently.  But we did.  For one single line.  And we even dragged Teri Hatcher down with it.  The poor woman whose acting career is just a few inches away from the has-been house is just doing her job.  Reading her lines so as not to get “killed” in the story.  I mean, Teri Hatcher is no Shannen Douherty or any other i-dont-wanna-do-this-so-i’ll-walk-out actors.  The truth hurts and as Teodoro Agoncillo, a Filipino historian, said in his A History of Filipino People, we are the type of people who love making fun of ourselves and of other people but when we become the object of ridicule or even jokes, we go up in arms as if the whole world depended on it.  If only we can be that united and quick to action when it comes to more pressing matters that our country desperately needs.  We have showed our fangs and they saw them.  Saying unsavory things about other people’s race, age, religious affiliation or anything is unacceptable and yet we do it everyday.  I’m a Bisaya.   I am a promdi (a Tagalog contraction for “from the province”).  When I arrived in Manila in 1996, I spoke with a thick accent and I mispronounced words and even if I bagged the most coveted award in high school, I felt insecure when I got to college.  My classmates spoke very good English and wrote sooo goddarn well.  But I did not shrink and become invisible.  I frequented National Bookstore and practiced tongue twisters.  Really!  I wanted to become a better person.  And in my own little ways, I guess I have succeeded.  I may not speak the best English but when I do, you won’t even notice that I made mistakes.  Why?  Because I have become confident.  Because I practiced real hard.  And because I took ridicules as constructive criticism from people who have later on became my very close friends.  I did not graduate with honors in college.  But I left the university with my head held high knowing that I have done my best and no one can take away the things that I have learned in terms of education and in terms of real life. 

Because I am sexually emancipated, I don’t take sexual insults that bad.  I guess, I know where I stand and what the real score is.  I don’t have to prove anything to anybody.  Well, perhaps to the few people who matter, but not to the world.  But maybe, if I were a president of some country, I would feel and act differently.  The Daily Show with Jon Stewart showed a picture of former Philippine president Cory Aquino with the word “slut” written on it.  The topic was about Hilary Clinton and what would happen if she won.  I mean, she’s doing very well in her campaigns because in a country that laughs at racial slurs, and prides itself for transcending racial and cultural discriminations, a colored multi-racial man like Barack Obama whose true religious affiliation is being poked at may still not get the “Ayes” because in real life, those who claim to be free from biases and prejudices, aren’t. 

I am not a fan of Cory Aquino but when I was only four years old, I remember that I was the only one making the L sign in a strongly pro-Marcos household.  You see, my father is a fiercely loyal friend.  And he has always been with the Nacionalista Party the way democrats will always be democrats in the US and republicans will always be republicans.  In Mindanao, news of corruption and oppression did not spread overnight.  So many people never really understood that well what was going on in the “cities”.  With the split of the Nacionalista Party and the death of Ninoy Aquino, provincial members of the party became confused.  My father, upon learning of the trouble up north, decided to support Doy Laurel’s  UNIDO–the pro-Cory arm of the Nacionalista Party.  I remember going with him to rallies and wearing yellow bands and making the L sign instead of the V sign.  I was happy and young as I was, I already loved the feeling of winning despite starting as an underdog.  If there’s one good thing that came out of the Aquino administration, however, it’s Jessica Soho.  She gained popularity because of delivering news live in the middle of crossfires.  I can say that my political beliefs have been strongly influenced by my father but when I got to college, I became a little bit aware of other things after I took the MKLRP–Maikling Kurso sa Lipunan at Rebolusyong Pilipino  and the course on MLM–not the networking scam, but the incorporation of the teachings of Marx, Lenin and Mao.  After having been disillusioned by a lot of things, I began to build my own political line of thinking based on what I have seen, heard, read and experienced.  It’s never easy.  They say that one can never be neutral.  One has to take sides but I say, that depends.  There are things that are worth my time of day and there are those that simply don’t.  I have also learned that it’s ok to be selfish every now and then.  After all that I have gone through, not so many things can surprise me that much anymore. 

Cory Aquino became a totally different person after Cardinal Sin died.  I’m not sure what happened.  I know she does not take criticism kindly.  She may not look it but she can be a little bit rash.  Remember Ka Louie Beltran?  I mean, let’s say she did not really hide under the bed.  She could have hidden behind Joker Arroyo who took all the beating for the downfall of her regime.  But does that really justify a libel suit against a journalist for such a comment?  Now, her family’s crying foul for the “slut” term.  If it were somebody else in her family, I’m sure the reaction wouldn’t have been that huge but then again, political satires are plain satires.  And as the word means, it does not pertain to the truth.  It could be an exaggeration of the truth or a complete opposite of the truth.  I agree, being called a slut, be it a joke or not, is an affront to any woman regardless of whether it is true or not.  And being included in a widely watched show stamps it for posterity. 

So here’s my take on the issues.  The Desperate Housewives slip is definitely unacceptable but I guess the apology issued, albeit not that widely broadcast as the scene, is.  I guess we should take it as a challenge the way other people have made insults their springboard to betterment.  As for The Daily Show with Jon Stewart, people know better.  I mean, let’s give our viewing public more credit.  People who watch political satires know which ones are just for laughs and which ones have an iota of truth.  Besides, before we cry foul, let’s look at ourselves and ask ourselves if we haven’t done anything similar in our lives.  But then again, that’s no excuse.  The broadcast media is perhaps the most powerful and most influential and with its great power comes an even greater responsibility. 

But that’s just my opinion…

Working My Arse Off

I’ve been unusually busy the past few days.  I do manage to go to sleep—the kind where my body just surrenders itself to the bed and then to slumber—at around half past five in the morning, at least for the past few days.  As if programmed by a Wake Up button, my system automatically reboots at around eight in the morning and my arm automatically extends itself so my hand could grab my phone and check the time, which is of course, always a few minutes shy of or a few minutes over eight.  Then I squint and look at my notebook’s screen to see how many new messages have come in while I was catching a few winks.  I can now make out from a 6-meter distance when I have an important message.  Usually if the new messages were folders filled with paperwork, they’re usually already a meter long up my desk but since they’re just in my inbox, I could say that I can measure them by the inches from afar and they’re always around six inches.  So I creep up to my chair and try to force myself to really wake up.  I check the e-mails, answer a few of them.  Ignore the YM messages and write on the whiteboard the things that I need to finish in a few hours.  And then I slump my still tired body to bed. 

I don’t go back to sleep.  My mom would come in after a few minutes to say that if I will eat at all, food’s ready.  And I would grunt in response.  Talk about ugly sounds. 

So I stay where I am until the image of my whiteboard embeds itself into my memory lane.  Just plain work waiting to be finished.  Sigh.  So I wash my face, brush my teeth, gargle oral antiseptic, change into my house clothes and go down to wave at my dad whose door is always open—he’s hardly mobile due to a cerebrovascular accident (CVA) more commonly known as stroke so he’s always in bed—play with the dogs, clean up their mess, check the beetle, stand motionless by the door and stare blankly at nowhere until my mom asks me something, head back to my room, slump back to bed, take a shower, change into a fresh set of clothes and whatever else—not necessarily in that order. 

But I guess I can’t complain.  In November last year, while I was living my own life, my brother, who I haven’t spoken with for over a year because of our personal differences, patched things up with me, or so I thought.  Well, he needed my “help” because he felt something physiologically incorrect in his body and he didn’t want to alarm anybody else so he went to the person that he knows rarely gets “alarmed” over any emergency–ME!  So, I took him to a hospital in Cebu, got him one of the best doctors whose specialization covered his “illness” and so after that, we became “close” again and he went back home with the assurance that he’s ok.  Then came December.  My sister had a general checkup in May and was given a clean bill of health but in July, she felt a lump in her left breast.  In August, she had a fine needle aspiration biopsy and was advised to have a frozen section biopsy because of suggestive mammary carcinoma, or breast cancer.  Typical of us Filipinos, they put it off.  When I learned about it, I went home and almost dragged her by the hair so she could have that biopsy.  True enough, she had breast cancer and after two days, she had a radical mastectomy leaving her breastless, well, at least in the left.  So until April, I accompanied her to her chemotherapy sessions.  The biopsy after the mastectomy was great.  It showed that all cancer cells were removed during the surgery but she had to go through chemo sessions just to be doubly sure that the chances of recurrence won’t be that high. 

In March, my boyfriend of over five years and I broke up in a very life-draining way.  I suspended the mourning period until my sister was not with me in Cebu because I believed that I could mope and cry my heart out in due time.  And that’s what I did for a whole month from April to May.  Then I packed my things and headed back home to “forget” and to start anew.  And then my sister, who’s a nurse based in NY, announced that she’s coming home for a short short visit.  And since no one at home cared enough to clean up the house, I did most of the scrubbing and whatnots on all fours, contacted carpenters, plumbers, etc to fix everything that needed fixing.  July came and so did my sister.  Then they left. 

Needless to say, the freelancer moi gave up a lot of projects from November up to around July this year.  So I started to contact my old clients and checked if work was available.  I also placed bids in some freelancer haven of a website to get new projects.  Work started to come in slowly in August and September and now, God is good, I’m swamped.  So yeah, I’ve been really busy that I couldn’t even find time to flirt that much anymore.  Jeez!  The only time I get to touch myself even, is when I take a bath or after I pee!  But like any other woman, I don’t really feel that lacking. 

So yeah, I don’t make sense anymore.  But I needed to write something to keep me sane.  there you go.

I Can’t Write

There are four posts sitting as drafts in my dashboard.  I can’t seem to finish anything here.  Nope, it’s not a writer’s block.  It’s just that I am doing so many things at the same time that sometimes this huge lump of flesh that I call my body cannot keep up.  Run, fingers, run!  While I can still catch up with my train of thoughts.  Jeez.  I give up.  I’ll get back to writing when I can get back to it.  Grrrrh.  You know that feeling when you want to say something only to forget about it when you’re about to say it and regardless of how hard you try you just can’t remember it?  Well, that’s what happened to my drafts.  Have you ever wanted to say something so badly only to stop and ask yourself what your point really is?  I’m my worst critic.  I mean, I don’t care much about how my blog looks or how my entries look or whether I used the right word or tense or punctuation or whether I should put diacritical marks where needed when it comes to my blog.  I do drool at some of the nicest and coolest blogs around in terms of content, honesty and design but I am not writing to prove anything but to try to have an outlet of sorts and to try to resurrect whatever creative energy left I have in my fingertips.  But regardless of how many times we say we don’t care, most of the time, we do.  And regardless of how many times we say we care, we don’t.  Whoever said I’m not complicated?  Tsk.  Now, let’s see.  What have I been doing that has triggered this psychotic episode?  Tsk. Hmm… let’s see.  I’m ghostwriting a memoir of a now successful and now American medical practitioner who used to be one of those boat people from Nam.  I’m also writing a dark, dark, gothic fantasy that would have been Stanley Kubrick’s wet dream of a movie.  My client’s concept kicks ass and I mean it really kicks ass!  I tried to look around for something similar online and offline but I can’t seem to find any.  Man!  And he’s younger than I am.  God, I hope he’ll sow the seeds of his loins into me so I can have dark, dark, gothic kids who can think like their father!  Jesus, what am I thinking!  And I have to sell those diecast action figures by thousands so I can get moolah before the Christmas rush begins.  I want to buy my mom something really nice.  And well, Papa never really cares for anything much anymore but his mango-flavored ice cream.  Now that explains why our electric bill is soaring higher than ever.  We’ve never run out of ice cream so we never get to turn off the friggin’ ref!  And my mom tells me it’s my aircon and not-super used but always turned on (hell, I hate that phrase!) desktop PC in the den! Hmph!  Oh well.  I love my mom and my dad whose speech handicap due to his stroke has never stopped him from making fun of people and of throwing profanities in the air.  Hehe.  And you should see our houseboy’s latest ‘do!  I mean, that Jimmy Neutron kid should be butchered for setting the trend for THAT hair.  But then again, it’s soooooooo last three years! I always say he should be arrested for illegal possession of deadly hair.  And my mom gets into some litany of this and that everytime he applies gel on his hair.  Hehehe.  I told her that she shouldn’t bash him so much, after all, what won’t hurt her won’t kill her.  Wrong move.  Just gave her the opening that she needed to counter punch.  The strong scent of the gel hurts her nostrils and his hair could accidentally stab her to death should they accidentally bump into each other around the house!  God!  My mom’s tongue isn’t really the sharpest but when she gets into it, she really digs in.  LOL.  So, now, I don’t really care if I’m making any sense at all.  I remember the height of Chico and Delamar’s fame when they were still in RX93.1 when Chico had this segment where he would talk about things that aren’t connected to one another but by the words in them.  I forget what it was called.  Oh well.  Guess I should get some sleep.  I’ll practice judo tomorrow.  I just might be able to use it someday.  I wonder if I can do verbal judo instead.  Hay life.  Goodnight world.

Daddy

You do not do, you do not do
Any more, black shoe
In which I have lived like a foot
For thirty years, poor and white,
Barely daring to breathe or Achoo.

Daddy, I have had to kill you.
You died before I had time—
Marble-heavy, a bag full of God,
Ghastly statue with one gray toe
Big as a Frisco seal

And a head in the freakish Atlantic
Where it pours bean green over blue
In the waters off the beautiful Nauset.
I used to pray to recover you.
Ach, du.

In the German tongue, in the Polish town
Scraped flat by the roller
Of wars, wars, wars.
But the name of the town is common.
My Polack friend

Says there are a dozen or two.
So I never could tell where you
Put your foot, your root,
I never could talk to you.
The tongue stuck in my jaw.
It stuck in a barb wire snare.
Ich, ich, ich, ich,

I could hardly speak.
I thought every German was you.
And the language obscene

An engine, an engine,
Chuffing me off like a Jew.
A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen.
I began to talk like a Jew.
I think I may well be a Jew.

The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna
Are not very pure or true.
With my gypsy ancestress and my weird luck
And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack
I may be a bit of a Jew.

I have always been sacred of you,
With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo.
And your neat mustache
And your Aryan eye, bright blue.
Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You—-

Not God but a swastika
So black no sky could squeak through.
Every woman adores a Fascist,
The boot in the face, the brute
Brute heart of a brute like you.
 
You stand at the blackboard, daddy,
In the picture I have of you,
A cleft in your chin instead of your foot
But no less a devil for that, no not
Any less the black man who

Bit my pretty red heart in two.
I was ten when they buried you.
At twenty I tried to die
And get back, back, back to you.
I thought even the bones would do.

But they pulled me out of the sack,
And they stuck me together with glue.
And then I knew what to do.
I made a model of you,
A man in black with a Meinkampf look

And a love of the rack and the screw.
And I said I do, I do.
So daddy, I’m finally through.
The black telephone’s off at the root,
The voices just can’t worm through.

If I’ve killed one man, I’ve killed two—
The vampire who said he was you
And drank my blood for a year,
Seven years, if you want to know.
Daddy, you can lie back now.

There’s a stake in your fat black heart
And the villagers never liked you.
They are dancing and stamping on you.
They always knew it was you.
Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I’m through.

Sylvia Plath

Ida–Shigi Shigi

I have long wanted to write something about Paolo Ballesteros and his portrayal of God Officer Poe in the “sequel” of the original Shaider in GMA’s Zaido.  Why?  Because he looks soooooo beautiful and fabulous in it!  It doesn’t matter if he has never admitted to being gay in real life.  (I hope he does.  I so hope someone would actually own up to be gay without going all loud and screaming in the Philippine entertainment industry.  It’s about time someone holds up the banner of gay-hood without being typically gay.) 

The original Japanese character is a transvestite.  He’s the grandson of the main villain of the story.  In the Philippine dubbed version, he went by the name, Babaylan Ida.  Zaido has retained this name but changed the costume–color, headdress, etc. .  Now Paolo plays the role of Ida and, my oh my, doesn’t he look soooo good in it!

Every time I get to see Zaido, I am tickled pink when I see Ida.  Really! 

Paolo said that it’s just work but didn’t elaborate on the gay issue.  His parting shot in this article, however, is pregnant with meanings.  Admission or not, I love the way he said it. 

Indulge the Groupie in Me — Wentworth Miller

What is it about this guy that turns me on?  Or many other women, and we-men, for that matter? 

Is it the fact that he doesn’t sport much hair now? 

Or is it because regardless of how he crawls into dirty tunnels or creeps between greasy pipes, he never looks dirty?

Or is it because he poses an enigma and an air of mystery that most men can’t hold on to for so long?

Or is it because he’s multi-racial that makes him look like he’s been genetically engineered to hot perfection?

Or is it because his body looks good enough to eat?  Ya know, that lanky but muscled physique without that I-could-kill-you-in-one-swing or my-chest-is-bigger-than-yours look (and feel!)

Or is it because he’s been constantly rumored to be gay?

Or is it because he’s one of those few actors who come from prestigious schools and well-schooled families?

Or is it the eyes that speak volumes without as much as a twitch?

Or is it because so many other women and gay guys want to get him to bed with them? 

Is it because he’s Michael Scofield?

Why, oh why, Wentworth?  Are you worth my time?  You definitely are.  You’re one of those guys that could make me leave everything just so I can watch your TV series non-stop from sun-up to sun-down. 

Or is it just Prison Break?  But nah, the show’s not even THAT great.  Well, the first season is!  But the next ones are thrilling and exciting but it somehow departs from the original theme.  Though it looks like it’s bound to get back on track from Sona in this third installment. But still…

Lady Lazarus

   I have done it again.
   One year in every ten
   I manage it—-
  
   A sort of walking miracle, my skin
   Bright as a Nazi lampshade,
   My right foot
  
   A paperweight,
   My face a featureless, fine
   Jew linen.
  
   Peel off the napkin
   0 my enemy.
   Do I terrify?—-
  
   The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
   The sour breath
   Will vanish in a day.
  
   Soon, soon the flesh
   The grave cave ate will be
   At home on me
  
   And I a smiling woman.
   I am only thirty.
   And like the cat I have nine times to die.
  
   This is Number Three.
   What a trash
   To annihilate each decade.
  
   What a million filaments.
   The peanut-crunching crowd
   Shoves in to see
  
   Them unwrap me hand and foot
   The big strip tease.
   Gentlemen, ladies
  
   These are my hands
   My knees.
   I may be skin and bone,
  
   Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
   The first time it happened I was ten.
   It was an accident.
  
   The second time I meant
   To last it out and not come back at all.
   I rocked shut
  
   As a seashell.
   They had to call and call
   And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.
  
   Dying
   Is an art, like everything else,
   I do it exceptionally well.
  
   I do it so it feels like hell.
   I do it so it feels real.
   I guess you could say I’ve a call.
  
   It’s easy enough to do it in a cell.
   It’s easy enough to do it and stay put.
   It’s the theatrical
  
   Comeback in broad day
   To the same place, the same face, the same brute
   Amused shout:
  
   ‘A miracle!’
   That knocks me out.
   There is a charge
  
   For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge
   For the hearing of my heart—-
   It really goes.
  
   And there is a charge, a very large charge
   For a word or a touch
   Or a bit of blood
  
   Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.
   So, so, Herr Doktor.
   So, Herr Enemy.
  
   I am your opus,
   I am your valuable,
   The pure gold baby
  
   That melts to a shriek.
   I turn and burn.
   Do not think I underestimate your great concern.
  
   Ash, ash —
   You poke and stir.
   Flesh, bone, there is nothing there—-
  
   A cake of soap,
   A wedding ring,
   A gold filling.
  
   Herr God, Herr Lucifer
   Beware
   Beware.
  
   Out of the ash
   I rise with my red hair
   And I eat men like air.

— Sylvia Plath

I can’t even begin to explain how I love the poetry of Sylvia Plath.  Or how amazed I am at her.  I don’t envy her.  If you want death so badly to actually stick your head into an oven, that’s totally heavy stuff.  But the poetry, man!  A poem that overflows with issues and reeks of pain and suffering but is bound loosely in very light packaging such as Lady Lazarus could come only from one of the best, if not the only one.  She talks of death and of her attempts to really die with a casual allusion to the Jews and to the Nazi as if she’s just talking about how a mundane day went by. 

But she died.  And she orchestrated the whole thing exceptionally well, indeed.

I am lazy.

Just when I have tons of things to do, I’ve opted to play games, watch TV, read blogs, read a book and so many other things rather than finishing up what I’m supposed to finish in the first place.  Sigh…such is indolence. 

Let’s all sleep tonight!

Gags At Large

I read Rina Jimenez-David’s column in the Philippine Daily Inquirer about how Teri Hatcher might be hounded by paranoia all her life from hereon.  It’s funny how this has indeed brought to mind the number of Filipinos and Filipino-Americans all across the globe—especially in the US.  Read her article so you’ll get the real deal. 

I can’t agree enough with her when she said how Desperate Housewives has long been a parody.  Marc Cherry couldn’t be happier with this controversy.  What a way to open the fourth season indeed! 

As for The Daily Show with Jon Stewart, well, I have always been a huge fan.  Too bad they had to feature that picture with the word slut in it. I wonder if it had the same effect if they used Kris’s picture instead.  Ooops.  My bad.  I’m sorry.  :p But really, I understand our former prexy’s children’s feelings.  But come on, people, it is after all, a parody.  And I’m sure if Bubble Gang did something similar and called former president Jim Carter a man-whore or a gigolo or any other disrespecting words, no one would have reacted.  Well, Habitat for Humanity would have said something but I don’t think US lawmakers would write letters to the Philippine Embassy or something.  I guess it’s time we toughen up our hides and shrug off things that can’t kill us. 

Nuff said. 

Blasphemy!

Yep, blaspheme some more.  I abhor members of the clergy who hide underneath their cassocks.  I, not only, pray that they be roasted and re-roasted in hell or wherever for the crimes that they commit here on earth, but I also pray that all the prosecutors who use twisted logic to exonerate these offenders—sexual offenders at that—be dealt with the same punishment. 

While rejoicing over Pacman’s victory, I read about the dismissal of the case of acts of lasciviousness filed against Cebu Archdiocesan priest, Fr. Benedicto Ejares.  Having come from a family of lawyers, I can take acquittals and conviction as if it’s just another weather forecast.  But my evening was completely ruined upon reading that the prosecutors dismissed the case on the contention that the defendant’s actions of toying with bra straps and touching the students’ arms and backs and of embracing them are matter of routine and habit, and that such body parts are not even “private”.  The prosecutors even went on to describe the priest as not an ordinary being but an alter-ego of Jesus Christ!  Such travesty!

Twenty minors complained but only seven submitted sworn statements.  Apparently, these were not enough to convict an alter-ego of Jesus Christ.  If we live in a world where priests can freely touch our not-so-private parts while administering sacraments and where prosecutors let them be because they are no ordinary beings, then I don’t know where this is leading to anymore.  Next time, if a priest is in some TV series in the US, I won’t be surprised if we’d hear lines like, you’re so lewd, you must’ve come from some seminary in the Philippines! I know it’s not an isolated case and it’s not something that has happened only in the Philippines but I’m not sure if we have convicted any sex offender who hails from inside the church.

Read more about this bull here or here.

I am not one to judge.  I have lint in my eyes too.  I even have many friends in the clergy.  I know not all of them are bad eggs.  But there are simply those who are disgusting.  For a time, my involvement in various radical groups, has brought me closer to one particular religious order that was supposed to have taken a huge part in the Reforms of the Catholic Church but my oh my, if it’s not a gay priest, it’s a father who has fathered someone somewhere, or a priest who has a girlfriend.  And they don’t even get sanctioned by their own superiors! 

…And with prosecutors thinking like that? I’m not sure about you people, but I think the world is coming to an end!

Viva El Pacman

I never played the game.  Well, for starters, we didn’t even have a TV set while I was growing up.  Second, when we got our first set, I was too hooked to watching TV to even want a family computer.  My brother bought one and I never liked playing anything in it save for Circus Chable. So I didn’t know what Pacman is. 

Of course I came to know it later on.  But I still never felt like playing it.  When games on cellphones reached a turning point and I had to say goodbye to good ol’ Snake, Pacman also had a short stint in some cellphone platforms.  Pacman eats his opponents one after the other, outwits them and outruns them.  Guess that’s why Manny Pacquiao has become the Pacman, other than his name sounding almost similar to it. 

But Manny Pacquiao was already Pacman then.  I remember his first well-publicized win.  He was 19 then.  So was I.  Jinkee was also just his girlfriend then.  Regardless of what Pacquaio has become, or what bloopers he may have had in his life, I take my hat off to the guy.  He’s a good businessman.  He knows how to handle money.  He doesn’t forget his benefactors.  He takes his game seriously—his discipline is unparalleled.  And he’s a gentleman in the ring.  I wasn’t so happy with him in the Pacquiao-Larios fight but he still blew me away.  He strives to become a better person.  And while air sometimes gets to his head, he seems to listen when people close to him tells him to cut the crap.

Pacman’s ability to make the world stop—at least for us, Filipinos, is undeniable.  And for at least a few hours, I felt that Filipinos around the world have broken barriers to cheer in unison.  Hell, I think even blogaddicts left their stations to watch the fight—unless you’ve got internet TV.  Cable or not, you could hear people say Ugh! Aww! Yes! No! Bang! and what-have-yous.  Simply amazing. 

Congratulations, Philippines, we’ve won once more.  Pacman did us all proud.  Just what we need after all the bashing that we got this week.  What a way to end a bad week.  Hope this new one turns out to be a really better one.

Tutor

I don’t like kids. 

I love my nieces and nephews–all eight of them.  But I am not one of those people (especially females) who coo over babies when they see them or think the little girl, barely one year old, who’s wearing a gartered headband is cute.  (Have pity on the infant, you people! It may look nice and attractive to you but I’m sure the li’l girl doesn’t appreciate the discomfort!  Regardless of how “loose” you claim it to be!)I don’t rush to whoever is carrying the baby so I could also carry IT!  I remember taking care of my nieces and some of my nephews.  It was never fun to carry them for such a long time.  It pulls muscles but I love them since they’re family. 

I want to have a baby.  Sooooo badly.  I had my chance, twice.  But it just never happened.  My uterus is retroverted and my ovaries are polycystic.  The downside?  It’s so hard to impregnate me.  The upside?  I get to have fun without worrying about getting preggy.  But of course when the right time comes, whenever that is, I want to have a baby, with or without a husband.  It’s unfair to the kid, I know, but why force it if I can’t be a good wife in the eyes of my child.  I know I’ll be a good mother.  I’m not worried in that department.  But to be a good wife?  That depends. 

Going back to kids…if I have a choice, I don’t want to be around them.  But for some reason, kids are drawn to ME! In airport terminals, in ships, in buses, in shopping malls, in restos—everywhere!  I used to be super fat and one time, we were in KFC in SM City Cebu and a kid kept on smiling at me!  It was getting so weird because I didn’t even notice him until my then boyfriend told me.  I glared at the kid and he looked away.  He was about 5 years old.  The type who could already tell his mom that the lady in the other table glared at him.  But he clammed up and looked at me again.  No, stared is the word.  My then boyfriend teased me that he must’ve thought that I’m a mascot.  NOT funny because it was starting to freak me out.  Good thing they had to leave ahead of us. That’s one of the reasons why I plunged into weight reduction desperate measures.  If only I had at least an ounce of desire to try drugs, I would have puffed the magic dragon 24/7 just to get the desired effect.  But I’m not too sure about that either.

Now, I love money.  So when I was still working a true-blue member of the uring manggagawa (working class), well, not really, I accepted all other gigs that came my way to earn some more.  My first ever part-time job while having a full-time job was as a tutor.  When the Koreans were still in the initial stages of their diaspora, I was one of those very lucky ones who was able to be a tutor to a Korean for P300 an hour.  Yep boys and girls, twice as much as the running rate nowadays.  And the good thing about that was that he wasn’t so young and since he was enrolled in one of the international schools in Cebu, he already knew how to at least express himself in broken English.  His family mistook me for a Chinese because I do look like one.  I had to quit after around three months because I can understand a few Korean phrases.  I had Korean as a language elective back in UP and I didn’t like them talking bad about me in Korean even when I’m within earshot thinking that I couldn’t understand them.  My tutee liked me and even planned to give his Samsung flip-phone to me.  Yep, that happened around 5 years ago when Samsung phones were still really cool because only very few people had them and they brought back the flip mobile phones in style.  So I quit.  Told them I could understand them.  Thing is, only the kid understood English really well and I didn’t want him to be the interpreter so I am not sure, even to this day, if they understood why I quit. 

Next in line—an eight-year old Filipino-Chinese boy.  He was the only boy in the brood of four and his sisters were in the honor roll in their respective classes.  He was, um, chubby too and all he could think about then were Zoids and Yo-Gi-Oh.  Everytime I taught him Math, I had to use Zoids and Yo-Gi-Oh in word problems.  That worked for him. 

He also kept a diary which was really funny because he’d let me read it.  One time, I told him that if he finished his Math assignment in 15 minutes without mistakes, I’d let him watch Yo-Gi-Oh.  We had a deal.  And everyday, it was like that.  If he finished something fast and accurately, I’d let him watch TV.  One day, one of his sisters told their mom that D was made to stand in the quadrangle of their school for excessive talking.  Hehehe.  His mom, who didn’t like anything like that because it meant that the moms of the other kids in the school that they go to also know of the incident and they were her friends!  So she stormed into the room while he was getting his treat (watching TV) and was asked to turn it off because he’s been a bad boy!  D looked at me and said, Teacher Geda o!  What was I to do?  Hehehe.  I talked to his mom and reminded her that that was our deal.  The mom backed off and told D that she’ll deal with him when our session’s over.  Hehe.  That was really funny, and awkward. 

Talk about awkward, my then boyfriend would send me a message at around the same time each day to tell me that he’s home or that he’ll eat dinner or something like that.  D knew about it.  And one time, he asked me, Teacher, do you also kiss with Tiger?  (Err, I used to call my ex Tiger, and I was his Tigress :-p) So, since I never saw anything wrong with answering the question, I said yes.  And then he asked—do you also have sex?  I almost fell off my chair!  And because I was caught off guard, I told him that it’s never polite to ask people that.  Not only was it rude, he hadn’t finished his assignment yet.  Case closed.  But I know I blushed to my roots then.  Sexual innuendos and jokes are funny when they’re exchanged between friends within the same age group, or at least with people over 18! 

After two years, I quit.  Because I moved to a company where I had to work nights.  D was devastated.  And I was too.  I never thought I’d become so attached to a child who’s not related to me but I did. 

My next “victim” was my landlady’s grandson.  I left the corporate world then and was just starting to work home-based.  So I was practically “home” the whole time.  I actually offered and they were hesitant at first because 1) they knew I hate kids 2) they couldn’t afford me.  But by then, I was already falling in love with teaching hard-to-teach kids.  And so every afternoon, the kid would go up to my room and study with me.  I taught him from writing to math to appreciation of books and good manners.  Naks.  While I’m not a paragon of virtue, I believe my parents brought me up really well.  When we grow up, we make our own choices and so for the mistakes that I have made when I have been out here and there, I blame no one but myself.  And so I’m proud of what I have done to A.  He writes like a kolehiyala (sharp and pointed, ladies?) and has already read pop literature and a few of the classics.  Oh, and he also asked me (more often) about sex.  I did try my darnedest to make everything sound clinical.  After all, the boy was under my “tutelage” for 2 years.  Besides, the earlier kids know about it from people close to them, the better their understanding of it becomes.  Less curiosity takes here and there, less population growth.  LOL.  My God!  I remember one time when he asked me if Tiger was coming to town for Valentine’s Day.  And I said, yes.  And he said, oh, so you’re gonna have sex!  I’ll just imagine the two of you doing it!  His grandpa who was within earshot guffawed!  So I lectured him again about blurting things out in public.  Sigh.  What a life. Too bad I had to leave. 

I still don’t like kids.  There are those that I warm up to after a while and I have accepted that regardless of how bitchy I can be, kids know better.  Hehe.  And yeah, I’m not that bad after all. 

Now, as for making babies…I’ll think about that some other time. 

TV Series–Episode ONE

I don’t have patience for TV series.  I forget schedules.  I can’t take cliffhangers.  And so what I do is forget about something I really like and when it’s all over, I get the DVD of the whole season and watch episode after episode until I get pissed because a cliffhanger at the end makes me want to teleport to the future just so I can see the next season. 

In a way, this is the reason why I like series that have already marked the end of their run.  Friends, Sex and the City, The Sopranos, Alias, Gilmore Girls, and many others.  Well, if you haven’t seen CSI from season 1, then it’s also good.  Bad if you work for a company or for the government because I remember calling in sick on a Monday night just so I could finish the last 4 episodes of the 4th season three years ago after going at it straight for almost 3 days. 

I love the SHOWTIME series The Tudors.  Not only because my mom infected me with that fondness for anything that involves monarchy, but because I looove Jonathan Rhys Myers.  He was with Scarlett Johansson in that Woody Allen movie, Match Point. He’s not the conventionally good looking guy but he is HOT!  Well, I am drawn to sexy sexy bad boys who have personal issues–he’s an alcoholic.  Hehe.  And having a looooooot of sexy scenes in both Match Point and The Tudors doesn’t help.  LOL.  Which is why, I can’t wait for the second installment. 2008 is inching up way tooooo slow for me.  Peter O’Toole is set to join the cast, which makes it all the more interesting.  Thing is, every time I see Peter O’Toole, I remember his scenes in Caligula and even if Malcolm McDowell topbilled that movie, I remember O’Toole more.  I even had to watch that sick movie again when I realized that Helen Mirren was in there.  Jeeez.  Hehehe.  I mean that movie was ok but, man, that was really just sick.  I respect people’s sexual perspectives and their “methodology” but that movie was really disturbing.  But then again, I think it had lots to do with Malcolm McDowell as well.  He always makes movies and TV shows unforgettable everytime he figures in them. 

I also love Grey’s Anatomy because Meredith Grey is clumsy and funny and real.  And because I am in awe of doctors.  I want to be one but I can never be one.  Ugh!  And of course, who wouldn’t love George O’Malley! Unless of course, you can’t separate the character from the real-life actor and you are a homophobe.  I am also wowed by Addison Shepard.  She’s the poster girl for glam.  I can’t wait for Private Practice, Grey’s spin-off, to officially go on air and wrap up the first season at least, so I can watch the whole season uninterruptedly.

I am hating CSI (Vegas, Miami and NY) now because I can’t wait for the new seasons.  Sigh.

I also like Rome.  I love anything that’s historical, which is why I also like the Korean TV shows Jewel in the Palace, Jumong and Hwang Jin-i.

I love a**holes who play lead not only because I like the ATTITUDE! but because they justify my being a bitch in a way as well.  LOL.  And that is why I love Boston Legal, the awesome spin-off of The Practice, and House.  Alan Shore reminds me of Napoleon Chotas, the lawyer of Constantin Demiris of Sidney Sheldon’s The Other Side of Midnight and Memories of Midnight.

More of this later…

A Parody of Parodies

I am a tad too tired of hearing clamour for public apology here and there for things here and there.  Let’s get one thing straight first.  I am not against people behind these movements.  I am not even against the idea.  But then again, parodies are parodies.  Satirical comedies are pure satire.  We even have that on local TV.  Racial slur, politics of personal destruction, name-calling and whatnots are quite common these days.  It is NEVER right to make fun of other people be it in the privacy of your home or within your close circle of friends OR in public.  But we do it anyway.  In restaurants and bars, at the dining table at home, in the living room, in school, in the office, in the lanai,  or anywhere else, we talk about other people and without us probably realizing it, we have already discriminated other people in terms of age, gender, race, physical appearance, school, social standing, moral standards and so many other things.  One thing has been made clear to me ONCE MORE this week–it’s ok for us to make fun of ourselves and of other people but when the arrows come our way, we cry foul. 

I do not approve of any form of belittling and maligning anyone, or anything for that matter.  I am guilty of bigotry every now and then.  I bitch at so many things and so many people at many points in my life but never have I thrown my weight around and used any form of public medium to ruin anybody or anything, be it in form of a joke or of a spoof.  I am a huge fan of the freedom of expression.  I am a writer, for crying out loud.  But with the great power of the pen comes extra huge and oftentimes really dead serious responsibilities and so as much as possible, I see to it that I am politically correct.  I’m a human being.  I make mistakes.  But never will I intentionally discriminate, not even indirectly. 

Going back to TV bloopers, let’s get our facts straight.  I don’t think being fair means taking one side right away.  This does not give American TV the right to post our people’s pictures or make not-so-sweeping generalization of our education system but asking for a public apology is enough.  Besides, it’s not like we don’t do it.  Check your e-mail inbox and sent folders.  Haven’t we, at one point in our lives, forwarded not so flattering pictures of their president, of Bert of Sesame Street, of religious sects?  Haven’t we made fun of the various ethnic groups in our country?  Again, it’s not an excuse to publicly malign other people, even as a joke or a part of one.  But to practically ruin our days and direct our attention to them for at least a day collectively?  Come on. This is why our politicians get to make damage control here and there for their slip-ups.  We get distracted that easily and when our heads are turned the other way, that’s where the fun begins on the other side—and usually, that’s when all the trouble starts. 

Jologs

I officially pin the JOLOGS star on my forehead. 

Ever since I got home (kinda home) in Ozamiz, I’ve done nothing but

AT NIGHT:

work my ass off —prostitute myself to various companies in faraway lands, write for a travel-related website, get into my telemarketing garb and sweet-talk gatekeepers so I can talk to decision makers, call small-scale businesses and offer this and that

smoke my lungs out

watch TV

read blogs and write a few entries every now and then

read all the entertainment sites that I can find—my favorite?  the Philippine Entertainment Portal and Abante when Alfie Lorenzo’s around

play with myself, ahem, I mean play Capitalism II (yeah, I’m boring) or GTA San Andreas or Jeopardy or Red Alert 2 or WarCraft III by myself. LOL.

There are nights when I do all of them at the same time.  Yeah!  I’m your ultimate poster girl for multitasking. 

DURING THE DAY:

sleep

sleep

eat

talk to my mom and laugh our guts out together

play with the dogs, bathe them when I am in the mood for some serious wet sessions!

lecture (naks) the househelp—I have OCD, remember?  I get ticked off with misaligned books in the shelves, drinking glasses that look frosted because they weren’t washed the proper way (you should wash drinking glasses with your bare hands NEVER with scouring pads or sponge), the other day’s leftover that are going to be today’s leftovers as well and all that jazz.

smoke my lungs out

read pinoy showbiz links

ON SATURDAYS:

same as any other weekday/weeknight routine save for StarTalk!!!

ON SUNDAYS:

same as any other weekday/weeknight routine save for Showbiz Central!!!

I watch the news but I think the highlight of my weeks is reading pinoy showbiz juicy tidbits…

Ask me about what’s the latest on pinoy showbiz.  I’ll probably even give you a backgrounder!  OMG! 

Oh well, this is my life.  Hehe. 

Rape It or Leave It

As I said, I wanted to write some more about this after having been triggered by Snooky Serna’s shocking disturbing revelation made me have one of those rare me-times.  I remember a few friends—girl friends.  In one way or another, they experienced the worst physical and sexual assault any woman could ever get—they got raped.  And much as I hate to think of it this way, I think I did too. 

One of the reasons why I was a huge fan of the late Raul Roco way before he became too “mainstream”, was his gender advocacy, and his landmark bills that later on became laws remain very helpful to every woman in the land.  Well, at least on paper.  He was the main man behind the amendment of the rape law in the Philippines—by making the definition of rape broader and ultimately changing it into a crime against persons from being just a crime of chastity.  The amendment to the provisions of the law already included marital rape, and both wife and husband may now be charged with rape. 

I’m not a lawyer.  I am not an expert on laws, implementing rules and regulations and any other legalese.  But I know one thing.  In this country, sexuality is governed by a lot of factors—social institutions like the Church, chauvinism, and most especially the culture of silence.  And because of that, violence against women is kept behind closed doors and bit lips. 

Back in UP, I hung out with a few girls who were really fun.  And fearless–or so I thought.  One of them once went out with a guy who still figures in the Philippine primetime TV.  This happened sometime in the late 90s.  After dinner, the guy drove the car around and parked in a dark secluded area.  They then started to make out.  After a few minutes, the girl stopped and asked him to stop as well.  Baffled, the guy looked at the girl and raised one of his eyebrows.  He told her to stop playing games and get on with it because he has another appointment in an hour.  The girl struggled and attempted to get out of the locked car (um, power locks were not really super common then, well, at least, not in our school!) but she couldn’t.  Not only was the place as black as the guy’s perineum, she didn’t know where they were and no one was in sight.  And so, she let him feast on her unwilling body.  The guy drove her home after that and they never saw each other again.  The girl kept it to herself until it became too hard to contain so she told us.  But made everybody swear never to say anything to anybody. 

 Why? 

1)  Though sexually “emancipated” we never knew that we should go to the hospital right away to get a rape kit.  And much as I was awed when Catherine made an improvised rape kit in one of CSI’s episodes, that’s not really admissible in the court of law in the real world.

2)  The Anti-Rape Law was not yet a law. 

3) Telling people that you are raped means your reputation is torn into pieces.  In this part of the world, the victim is the one at fault for giving the suspect a MOTIVE!

4)  People would not believe her because she didn’t have any tangible evidence.  She didn’t have witnesses.  And she willingly went out with him to the point of even making out with him. 

Date rape is what it’s called but do people come out and sue their assailants?  Or even their boyfriends?  No.  Some tried to.  The Subic Rape Case is perhaps one of those but I can only speculate.

Another incident flashed in my mind, well, at least the story as told by my friend to me.  It was so graphic that I can’t help but get mental pix.  Influenced by the Kama Sutra and porn, her boyfriend told her to take him from behind.  While it’s not something really new, the girl wasn’t really into it and so she refused.  She tried to guide him, errr, lower (her back was to him).  But her boyfriend forcibly went into his preferred slot without any lube! Not only was it extremely painful, it was against her will and she couldn’t do anything because she was in a position where she couldn’t just run away and she was butt-naked in the guy’s bathroom.  The guy had his fill and took a shower.  She went out and dressed up.  It’s not at all like a movie scene where the girl cries in the shower after a rape sequence.  The guy apologized afterwards and as one’s youth can sometimes be one’s personal nemesis, my friend forgave the guy and although they never did it again, she found it so hard to forget the pain.  A few months later, she caught the guy cheating on her with one of their blockmates.  The nerve!

My ex-boyfriend and I used to tell each other that we should “rape” each other every now and then, for the kicks and well, the kinks.  And we used to, every now and then.  But it’s different when you “want” to be “raped” from being raped or even forced to do something that you can’t regardless of whether or not it’s sexual in nature. 

The best part of the Anti-Rape Law in the Philippines is that people in power who use that “power” to make you do the things that you don’t want to do can be sued and possibly get jailtime.  The worst part of the whole experience is when you can’t even do anything to stop it, and even when it has stopped, you can’t even talk about it…

Not even blog about it.

Rape…An Unfinished Story

Snooky Serna was interviewed in Showbiz Central on GMA yesterday because of the controversy that sprung from her declaration on DJ Mo’s radio program that she lost her virginity when she was 14 because she was raped.  Apparently, she was violated by someone that she trusted and since she refused to give any other details, I can only surmise that she was romantically involved with the guy.  This brings to mind a lot of issues that women–and girls–face on our day to day existence that we don’t talk about or merely shrug off for a million and one reasons. 

What is rape and what can we do when we are in a situation where we are forced to do something that we do not want but for whatever reason, succumb to such demands?

This calls for more “sitting down time” on my part because I have a lot of things to say about this but I don’t have that now so, let it be a cliffhanger for now…

My Celeb Match! Oh la la!

Your celeb match is George Clooney

The Celebrity Matchmaker
Brought to you by Tickle

That’s right, a charming and gorgeous dreamboat like George Clooney is just what the doctor ordered.

Smart and sophisticated, you need a soulmate with a brain to match. Only someone with intelligence and beauty will create your perfect storm. Lucky for you, your celeb match has plenty of both to spare…and a villa in Italy to boot. From dinner dates in LA to chilling on Lake Como, you’ll be sure to have a heavenly time. Good night and good luck!

One Big Fight!

I have long accepted the fact that the UP Fighting Maroons will NEVER win another championship.  Well, at least, we have entered the history logs once more as the team that has never won a game this season.  So, since the next best thing is to pick another team, I’ll just cheer for our neighbors, the Ateneo Blue Eagles. 

My previous post has reminded me of the game today.  LOL.  It’s gonna be bloody!  Hehe. 

It has also reminded me to repost a funny spoof of Harry Potter from Niel’s blog.  For the credits, please check his blog. 

Harry Potter Ateneo Version
———————————-
(Background Music)
We stand on a hill
Between the earth and sky
- “Song For Mary,” Fr. James Rueter SJChapter One: Before The Storm

Fr. Bienvenido Nebres SJ was just finishing the day’s work when Harry Potter, a senior of the Ateneo de Manila, burst into his office.

“Fr Nebres!” Harry shouted

“Harry!” a surprised Nebres said. “I thought you were out of school destroying the horcruxes to kill Lord Voldemort.”

“That’s what I wanted to tell you. I discovered that there are two horcruxes here in Ateneo itself. Voldemort has enlisted the help of the De La Salle University and the University of Santo Tomas. They are coming.”

“Don’t worry, Harry.” Nebres said “You know for a fact that Ateneo– its teachers and students — are more than capable of defending our Loyola campus. We will hold them off while you search for the horcruxes and destroy them. You will need this.” He waved of his wand and out of the air appeared a sword. “The sword of St. Ignatius.” Nebres said. “Powerful enough to destroy the two horcruxes.”

“Thank you, Father” Harry said. And with that, he sped off to find the last two things which protect Lord Voldemort.

Nebres then waved his wand once more and this time, four people appeared in his office. “Marlu, Rudy, Toby and Joey. The school is in danger”

Nebres then explained the situation to the four Deans of the Ateneo de Manila University.

“I want you to assemble all remaining students in the college covered courts. We must evacuate the freshmen through Marikina. The sophomore, junior and senior students may stay and fight if they want to. Next, I need you to assemble all the teachers, both part time and full time.”

Without a word, the four deans Disapparated and went on with their tasks. Nebres too Disapparated back to the Jesuit Residence and briefed the Society about the impending attack.

Fr. Adolfo Dacanay was the assigned to lead the Jesuits to battle “My team is ready to fight anytime anywhere. We will crush them!”

“Excellent.” Nebres said

After a few minutes, Nebres, the four Deans and some members of the faculty and administration gathered in Xavier Hall to discuss the battle plan.

“The School of Humanities can summon mythical creatures to help defend us.” Marlu Vilches said “The English Department professors are summoning creatures from Dante’s Inferno and Greek Mythology as we speak. The Filipino Department is summoning all the manananggals and white ladies from the haunted trees on campus”

“The Philosophy Department” interjected Fr. Ferriols “is summoning creatures from Meron pond right now. Those rascals will soon feel the wrath of Meron! Magiging WALA silang lahat! Konsepto lamang sila!”

“Now is the time to test the newest chemicals and inventions from our SEC laboratories.” Toby Dayrit said, “The Department of Environmental Science professors are enchanting the trees to life right now. We will purge them with the help of Mother Nature.”

“I have just received a call from MVP” Rudy Ang said “Reinforcements from Makati are coming soon.”

“My apples and sunshine are ready to fight as well” Tim Gabuna said. “Go CERSA!”

“I have just finished briefing my school. The Department of History is ready to fight. The Western history professors led by Dave Lozada and JoEd Tirol are summoning the three hundred Spartans and soldiers from the World War II to fight. Fr Bulatao and the Department of Psychology are locked inside the SocSci Conference room right now. They will use their psychic powers to toy with our enemy’s mind.”

“I have roused the athletes also.” Norman Black beside Ricky Palou said. “They are ready to put up One Big Fight with their super strength.”

A voice interrupted them. “I KNOW YOU ARE PREPARING TO FIGHT! You are no match for us! I have allied myself with the La Salle brothers and the Dominicans of UST. You cannot win against me, Jesuits. Push the limit! Animo Spirit! Give us Harry Potter and the sword of St. Ignatius and we will let you live! We will even let you win some of the games.”

Chapter Two: More Help

The Ateneans ignored the warning and instead began to prepare for the impending battle. A few minutes later, the voice shouted for a second time:

“I can see you are not listening! It is such a pity. What happened to your Prayer for Generosity? Give me Harry Potter and the Sword of St Ignatius. Give without counting the cost, you always say! You have until midnight. I also call on all students of La Salle Greenhills and La Salle Zobel. It is not too late. Come and join us. Convert! Repent!”

Fr. Dacanay, interrupting his briefing with his exorcists turned and said “The idiot is taking the prayer out of context. Besides, St Ignatius also said to fight without fear of being wounded. And we will do just that.”

Three figures — two women and a man — suddenly appeared. “We are from the Department of Sociology and Anthropology” said the man.

“Ricky Abad!” Fr. Nebres exclaimed.

“I brought with me our Department Chair Bopeep Saloma-Akpedonu. And this is Czarina Medina, one of our newest lecturers. We apologize for being late. We were preparing our I-bombs.”

“I-bombs? What are I-bombs?” Nebres asked.

“Ideology bombs. Once they detonate, they will spread false consciousness in the area — the La Salle brothers and the Tomasians will think they are winning. It is all false really. We will use their pride against them.”

“Excellent. Excellent.” Nebres said. “And here comes Andrew Ty and Mark Escaler for the Department of Communication.”

“Yes!” Escaler said “we will infiltrate their communication processes by adding “noise” and ambiguity between the message relay of the sender and the receiver so orders can be reversed and thwarted!”

“The creatures from my horror films are coming!” Andrew Ty said. “We will use them to our advantage!”

“Father President! Some people are coming!” somebody shouted.

Some five hundred people then Apparated out of nowhere. Wearing either red or white shirts, they marched towards Nebres. A young man then stepped forward.

“We are from the University of the Philippines.” said the young man. “For years, our academic communities have built a strong relationship with each other. We have shared professors. We went to rallies together. We have had our differences. Yes. But in the end, our similarities and accomplishments outweigh our differences… We are here to help! We are honored to fight with Ateneo once more!”

Cheers and applause errupted from all sides.

“Let’s make baka! Don’t be takot! Let’s make baka! Don’t be takot! Let’s make baka! Don’t be takot! Let’s make baba from the hill” the Ateneans cheered

Five minutes to midnight.

The School of Humanities stood with their mythical creatures summoned from the Classics, and the haunted trees and the gigantic swamp creatues from the Meron pond.

The John Gokongwei School of Management with their reinforcements from Makati, along with Venus Ibarra, Ricky Pilar and other professors.

The School of Science and Engineering with their mysterious inventions and weapons. The gigantic trees in the campus now walking sluggishly by their side.

The School of Social Sciences with their unique yet powerful defensive weapons; the Psychology Department ready for the psy-war.

The Ateneo Professional Schools ready to defend their Loyola-based counterparts; the two fraternities in the Law School forging a temporary alliance.

The Alumni, the D.A. (Dalandan’s Army), led by Benjie Laza and Mon Cualoping.

The statues of Tomas More, Horacio dela Costa, the Blue Eagle come to life.

The students from U.P.

Two horcruxes left.

Now all is still, where Loyola’s colors fly.

Chapter Three: One Big Fight

Midnight.

There was a burst of light emanating from the sky, brighter than the moon and the stars. What seemed like a horde of fireflies turned out to be arrows. Thousands of arrows. Tips on fire.

The arrows struck the Blue Eagle Gym. The oldest building in the University. The symbol of their athletic pride. Now aflame.

Toby Dayrit tossed a beaker of water to the burning building. He pointed his wand at the beaker now mid-air and shouted his spell “Magis.” The water transformed into a surf huge enough to douse the fire. The Blue Eagle Gym was safe.

The archers outside roared their disappointment. But they shot again, this time targeting the Erenchun soccer field where some of the Ateneans were camped. Nebres pointed his wand at the arrows raining from the sky and shouted his incantation “Cura personalis” and the thousand arrows turned into bubbles.

The Ateneans cheered. The first two attacks of the LaSallians and the Tomasians have been thwarted.

“You have had your fun, Ateneans.” a voice boomed. “Now it is time to get serious.”

Darkness suddenly enveloped the University. The enemy had sabotaged their electricity. Immediately all the Ateneans took out and flickered their wands, “Lux in Domino” they chanted. Light emanated from all the wands.

The illumination came just in time as suddenly a stampede crushed the fences between Gate 2 and Gate 2.5. The Ateneans have realized the magnitude of their danger: it was not just the LaSallians or even just the Tomasians they were confronting; the other schools were there as well. A thousand green archers were riding the backs of the giant tigers of UST. Charging with them were the giant tamaraws and a hundred warriors whose bodies were painted red war paint. Above, falcons were soaring in the sky.

“YOU FOUL THINGS, noh?” somebody from the Ateneo crowd shouted, charging at the stampede; it was Tessa Rosana “How dare you attack us, noh? You don’t know who you are dealing with, noh? TAKE THIS, noh?” She hit her gong with all her might. A powerful sound wave spread throughout the area knocking a hundred archers and animals out.

“Haha anoh?” she triumphantly yelled.

And so the other Ateneans started counterattacking as well. David Lozada and his 300 Spartans. The ROTC cadets. The mythical creatures of the School of Humanities. Dalandan’s Army.

Ricky Abad and the Department of Sociology soon deployed their Ideology Bombs prompting some of the LaSallians to cheer instead of fighting. They cheered, “strawberry shortcake nananananana.” instead of “Recticano! Recticano”. This allowed some of the Ateneans to easily knock the LaSallians out.

Somewhere near the Covered Courts, Norman Black was briefing his team, “Nonoy. I want you here. Chris, here. Jai, there. Alright? Any questions.”

“Aaaaah! GOD DAMN IT!” a raspy voice screamed. It was Joe Lipa, former coach of the Blue Eagles, who arrived with the contingent from UP. “Just charge! Attack them! Now!” And so they did.

The LaSalle brothers and Francisco of UST were outside, watching the battle, waiting for their turn to strike.

A handful of LaSallians were found trotting back to their base.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?” Francisco yelled.

“You told us to retreat!” the archer said.

“You idiot! That’s just Escaler and Bulatao toying with your minds! Go back! That’s it! I am joining the battle!”

She then stepped forward lifted her two arms and shouted “Tiger Power! Raar! Tiger Power! Raar!” The LaSalle brothers thought she had lost her mind. But then she suddenly transformed into a giant tigress, twice larger and fiercer than the ordinary tigers. Seeing their comrade ready and willing to fight, the LaSallians cheered.

“HOY!” Goldie the Tiger roared “NO CHEERING DURING BATTLE! NO CHEERING!” Then she advanced.

Her first target was Fr. Dacanay who was busy exorcising some of the archers and paralyzing them.

“FATHER! Behind you!”

Quickly, Dacanay whirled and performed his own counterattack “Expellus Inferius” blasting her into the middle of the Erenchun field, knocking her out.

“NOOOOOOOOOO!” The La Salle brothers shouted upon seeing their comrade down. “It is time we even the score.”

The earth began to quake. And out of the night came a gigantic robot. It was DLRT; the LaSallians had transformed and brought the LRT-1 which passed Taft Avenue into a robot.

DLRT was making quick work of the Ateneans and their creatures– crushing the mythical creatures here and there, tossing the trees brought to life by the Department of Environmental Science.

“Let us not lose hope!” Nebres said. “We are after all committed to hope.”

“Now is not the time to talk about GK, Father!” somebody said.

“I am not talking about GK. I am talking about SECtor.”

He pointed his wand the Science Education Complex. The building shook and assembled itself into a robot. SEC A was the head and the torso. SEC B became the left arm and leg and SEC-C became the right.

“Mang Freddie!” Nebres called.

“I am ready, Father!” shouted Freddie the man in charge of Escaler Hall which has now become the control room SECtor.

“Attack, Freddie! One Big Fight.”

DLRT was no match and quickly collapsed under the strength of SECtor.

“Fr Nebres!” Harry Potter appeared. “Two horcruxes have been destroyed!”

“Animo La Salle!” “Animo La Salle!” “Animo La Salle!”

There were screams of terror. The LaSalle brothers had entered the battle. They were using their most dangerous spell: The Animo LaSalle — the Killing Curse!

Finale: The Animo Wand

Ateneans were dropping dead left and right. The Animo La Salle curse was unblockable. Some of the more veteran teachers provided extra defense and protection to the students but most of their efforts were futile.

Dacanay and his Jesuit team however managed to stun a few archers.

Victory however seemed far-fetched. Francisco had been revived from the Stunning Spell by Dacanay. Back in human form, she was battling Jai Reyes, Kirk Long and Chris Tiu at the same time. While the players were certainly skillful, Francisco was able to block all spells launched by the Blue Eagles.

Francisco pointed her wand at Chris Tiu and shouted “Animo La Salle!” But the curse missed him by an inch.

“Not Chris Tiu you BIATCH!” somebody shouted; it was Achoot Cuyegkeng. “Out of my way! Out of my way! FRANCISO’S MINE!”

Francisco laughed. ” You are no match for me! I am the greatest servant of the Dominicans! What’s gonna happen to your Loyola Schools after I kill you?! What’s gonna happen to your Blue Eagles after I kill Chrissy?”

“You will never touch any of our students again!!” Cuyegkeng said.

Francisco laughed. And with her unerring skill as jack-of-all-trades professor Cuygekeng sent a Stunning Curse at her opponent. The curse hit her squarely on the chest, knocking her out once more.

“Enough!” Harry shouted. “Voldemort! Where are you? You have been using the LaSallians and the other schools to come after me. Where are you?”

“I am here, Potter.” a voice hissed. The voice came from Bro. Armin.

“Brother Armin?”

“No! I am Voldemort! Armin is my past, present and future. See?” he wrote the word Armind then with a flicker of his wand the word became Voldemort.

“I don’t get it.” Harry said

“Ako rin!” an Atenean said.

“Ha? Can you make ulit?” another one shouted.

“How did Armin became Voldemort?”

“Bai, nalibog na ko!” A Cebuano Atenean shouted.

“Bah! Never mind! Anyone knows the LaSallians can’t spell. So anyway, I stunned Armin a few days ago and using his name and face I used the school and all the other schools to come and find you!”

“But you are too late. I destroyed all the horcruxes”

“No, Potter. I win. You see, while I was Bro. Armind. I was able to find the long lost and most powerful wand in the entire world– the Animo Wand! And you will be its first victim!”

“Are you kidding me, Tom?” Harry said “Don’t you get it? The wand chooses the school. The Animo wand does not belong to La Salle! It belongs to the Ateneo.”

“No! You are the fool! The LaSallians have been cheering Animo La Salle for such a long time. The LaSallians truly own the wand and since I am a LaSallian for now, I own it. Die Potter die!”

“But you see, Riddle, you did not review University histories. If you did, you would know that the Ateneans used Animo Ateneo first. And they still use it now. There is even a website right now named AnimoAteneo.com . The Ateneans have reclaimed Animo Ateneo!”

Silence.

“So. It comes down to this isn’t it?” Harry whispered “Does your wand know that its original owner still values it? If it does, I AM THE TRUE MASTER OF THE ANIMO WAND!”

Voldemort points his wand at Harry who in turn has prepared for the final duel.

“ANIMO LA SALLE!” Voldemort shouted.

“OH! GET. THAT. WAND!” Harry shouted.

The curse rebounded and hit Voldemort instead of Harry who caught the Animo Wand with his other hand. Cheers from the Ateneans and even some La Sallians, who realized that they were duped were all around.

That morning both Ateneo and La Salle forged a cease fire, a temporary one because the next day was the Ateneo-La Salle basketball championship. Francisco who was revived after hours of being stunned by Dacanay and Cuyegkeng decided to lift the “No Cheering!” rule during time out. However, she still flinches whenever Dacanay (or any Jesuit for that matter) would approach her.

There were however, a group of La Sallians who disagreed with having a cease fire. They believed that the death and defeat of Voldemort was unfair so they decided to file a protest. This was later junked due to lack of merit.

Epilogue. Nineteen years later.

It was the day of the ACET.

Harry Potter was accompanying his son Ben.

“Dad! What if I fail the ACET and end up in DLSU?”

Harry looked at his son and said “Bienvenido Adolfo! You were named after two of the most powerful Jesuits in the country. One of them is a good friend of ours. In fact he was the one who officiated our marriage.”

“But… but… so what if I DO fail the ACET and end up in DLSU?”

Eh di bobo ka talaga! Harry thought. But he didn’t say that. “But we will still love you as our son!” Harry said. “Alright. Your test starts in a few minutes. Make us proud. One Big Fight.”

Blah Blah

I e-mailed Howie Severino a few days ago after I watched I-Witness on GMA.  His docu, Is Brod Thicker than Water, brought back both fond and sad memories of UP.  The people who were interviewed were people that I know personally.  Jeff, for one, used to be a constant open-house and dorm friend.  I congratulated Howie and his team for another great docu. 

He e-mailed back and told me he read my entry about the frat-related violence in the campus and thanked me for my “brutally honest” comments.  Haha.  I was so embarrassed with myself.  I made a comment about him doing studio jobs every now and then and how he sucked at them.  Hehe.  But as he said, he’d never get tired of being on the road and “out there” and would probably choose that path any day, except that taking on studio jobs would afford him the chance to be with his kid.  Oh well, as I said, it’s a calling and I hope he makes more copies of himself soon because he is of a dying breed. 

Thanks for your time, Howie.  Mabuhay ka rin! And for that, I’ll cheer One Big Fight!

On Singlehood and Aging

I am 27 years old. 

Single. 

Unattached. 

Female. 

Happy?  Getting there. 

Getting married?  No. 

Batang Buotan started the whole talk about getting hitched.  Now I’m thinking about the whole getting married rush that somehow resembles that of Christmas shopping. 

It started early the other day (um, noontime in most people’s world), when I remembered that my cousin passed the nursing licensure exam and I haven’t even bothered to congratulate him.  Since we don’t really exchange messages, I texted his mom, who, when I was in college, acted like my other cool mom.  I congratulated her–remember the TV ad that says, “dahil napalaki akong mabuti, dapat daw pong kilalanin kung sinong nanay ko!” sensya nag di sakto. 

Me: Mommy, ngayon lang po ako nakapag-text, sowee.  Congrats po, may nurse na kayo.  One down!  Hehe.

Mommy: Tnx, anak!  Yep, LA made it!  Nw binubuno nman revw NCLEX, hirap dw! Nov nxt yr, owen nman, civ. engg.  Eldest imee grad na?  Sbay kc cla LA ngcolege.

Me: Di pa po.  He transferred po kasi from UP to San Carlos then shifted pa from Bio to ECE, which is a 5-year course.  His younger sis po malamang sa March ga-graduate.  Nurse din po.  Kaya po yan ni LA, I’m sure.

Mommy: Ah ok.  Eh u ok klang? Wen kasal mo? Atend ako! hehehe

Me: La pa rin po akong naloko, mommy, after that stormy stormy 5-year thingie that I got out of.  Besides, I’m holed up in my room 24/7.  Si Mama lang palagi kong kausap.  I don’t go to their room that often eh kaya I don’t get to talk to Papa that much, although nag-gu-goodmorning ako from outside every time I wake up.  Hehe.  Chaka,  would you really recommend getting hitched?  Sus! Manonood na lang ako ng Startalk!  Hehe.

Mommy: Gud choice nt getting hitched just find right partner and loving loving only. Take care, love you.

Didn’t I say she’s cool?  She’s a general’s daughter who has seen a real toro in the 80s together with other St. Paul kolehiyalas.  Hehe.  I super love her. 

Anyways, I have always told my mother, since I was in high school, that I would never get married.  Three weddings happened at in succession sometime between 1992-1995 in the family.  There’s five of us.  Our eldest brother got married a hundred years ago before 1992.  So that leaves moi as the sole single member of the family.  I always tell my mom that I would never get married but live in sin for life. 

But you see, things don’t always go as planned.  People meet people.  Some of the people that we meet become our friends, some even become “more than friends” with us.  And when we get into relationships, we can’t help but think about the future.  My last boyfriend and I were headed there–or so I thought, no, that’s what he made me think even when we were first starting to profess love for each other (yuck!).  Five years and a few more months after, I finally realized that we were never going anywhere and the relationship was built on very weak foundations–fights, sex, alcohol and utter immorality.  I’m not a prude but my sensibilities do get offended every now and then.  And so I let go.  Well, I planned to.  I never realized that letting go of something that you have nurtured and gotten used to for half a decade is so hard.  They said that it takes at least two months for each year that you’re in a relationship to get over it when it’s over.  That gives me four more months.

It was not the wedding that I looked forward to, although I’d be lying if I’d say that I didn’t want to walk down the aisle in a fabulous white (or cream-colored) gown with a very long train.  But most importantly, I looked forward to “settling down” with my partner in a place that “we” own, and to buying things together, and perhaps starting a family together.  Gretchen Barreto said, “What she had was a wedding, but what I have with Tony is a marriage” in response to Lani Mercado’s wish for her to “have a marriage” with Tonyboy Conjuangco in the height of their word war early this year.  The ceremony is not THAT important indeed.  While I’m not really for La Greta that time, I understood her. 

So there.  I’m not in a hurry and my relatives know better than to ask me about whos and whens.  My mom kids me about it but I never felt it was ever necessary to catch the train.  I can always walk, or wait for the next lifetime.  Even if it’ll take me over 10 years to get over my life-draining breakup, I’ll go through that.  And if somebody else comes along, and when I’m ready for a new relationship, I’ll make it sweeter the next time.  But never will I rush into getting married.  Annulment in this country is very expensive and if divorce gets adopted into the Family Law, I would not want to go through the ordeals of courtroom drama. 

One thing’s for sure, I will never get wed for the wrong reasons–financial, emotional, psychological, social, moral.  I will get married when I feel that I am ready–financially, emotionally, psychologically, socially, morally.  As a woman, I remember what Uma Thurman said in Oprah, when she talked about her painful separation with Ethan Hawke.  She said that women must be financially stable and independent because the hardest part about being in a relationship is when you can’t let go because you won’t know if you’ll be able to support yourself.  Much as I’d love to marry MONEY, I don’t want to be left wanting when it’s all gone and washed away. 

But well, as my aunt pointed out, I’ll just find the right partner and loving loving only!

Ang Kabayo–The Sequel

I remember one story that my mother (and my father, and my sisters, and my brothers) told me about a Boy Scout camping-related incident that happened sometime in the late 60s. 

You see, my siblings are lucky because they went to school together, with only 2-3-year intervals between them.  Not only did they have one another then, they also had tons of our relatives so you can just imagine all the fun that they all had. I was born a million years after everybody left grade school.  

So one time, my eldest brother finally broke into the initial stages of getting into the world of men–as a cub scout.  He belonged to the same troop as one of our cousins.  One of the highlights of getting into “scouting” was going camping.  They excitedly went about with the preparations and one of those involved creating a troop flag.  My dad is the best go-to guy for logistics but when you need art, he’s awfully useless, so they went to the next “man”–my uncle.  He was my mom’s cousin and he could draw very well. 

For some reason, fathers get really excited when their sons get into the Boy Scouts.  I’m not very sure of this but in our town, it’s like a rite of passage.  My mom used to be really active in the local chapter of the Girl Scouts in our town when I was a kid.  She’d told me hilarious stories of the crazy things that they did over overnight camping and whatnots.  She was around 50 when she stopped going to GSP meetings. My other older sister, Nang Maya, had her share of GSP stories.  My other sister, Goyen, (we have a 12-year gap between us) was a multi-awarded girl scout in grade school.  She had that sash that was full of badges.  She’s the only one in the family that has that.  And it was really complete.  I remember looking at her picture when I was a kid and wishing that I’d be like her too.  The dream ended when I couldn’t even catch up with my groupmates when they’d run really fast after they filled their bottles with water when we were asked to fetch some.  I suck at outdoor activities big time, save perhaps for flirting.  LOL.

Going back to the story, my uncle was very excited for his son.  So he bought a new white sack–the one that is used for rice, not the kind that they use for flour–and a black permanent marker.  This happened in the late 60s, ok?  The son, my cousin, asked his dad, “Pa, drowingi mig kabayo, kanang nawng sa kabayo gyud. [Pa, draw us a horse, the face of the horse.]“

And so my uncle did so.  It was as if some surge of energy enveloped him and he happily drew a beautiful portrait of a horse’s face.  it was complete with the mane and all the other details.  When he was all finished with it, he gave the sack to his son.

My cousin said, “Pa, suwati dayon sa ubos ug Goat Patrol.  Kanang dagko tanan. [Pa, write Goat Patrol right below it. In capital letters.]“

Ever Wondered What Ignited the GMA and ABS-CBN Network War?

I can’t help it.  The first time I read this, I got hooked.  Hehehehe.  But it has gotten toooooo long and the suspense with PEx members adding one chapter after another to the saga got the better of me so I sort of forgot about it until I found the file that I saved while trying to sort my folders.  Looked the whole thing up in Google and found it so happy na ko.  Let me share with you the Prelude and the first two chapters!  Hehehehe.  The rest can be found here.

Prelude: Hairbrush ni Korina Natagpuan, Tita Mel Nakipagharbatan

Ito ang sequel sa pinakaunang PEXeryeng pinamagatang “Hairbrush ni Korina Nawawala, Tita Mel Tuwang-tuwa” kung saan natunghayan kung paano ba nagsimula ang away nila Tita Mel at Korina.

Noong kasagsagan ng TV Patrol kung saan lead anchors pa sila Noli De Castro, Mel Tiangco, Angelique Laso, at Ka Kiko Evanglista, si Korina ay isa pa lamang hamak na estudyante ni Tita Mel. Paminsan-minsan ay inuutusan niya itong gumawa ng kape para mainitan ang kanyang sikmura.

Lumipas ang mga araw at napansin ni Mel na parang gumaganda na ang takbo ng career ni Korina at napansin din niya na gumagaling na ito sa larangan ng newscasting.Minsan ay sinilip nito si Korina sa kanyang dressing room at nakita nito si Korina na kausap si Loren Legarda at ipinagmamalaki ang hairbrush.

Korina: Look, Loren. Ito ang hairbrush na nagpapaganda sa aking buhok gamit ang aking spraynet. Hay, at ito ang sikreto ng aking gumagandang career!
Loren: How nice, iha, sige ituloy mo iyan at for sure ilalagay ka rin sa TV Patrol.

Agad napalunok si Mel at inisip nito na kailangan niyang makuha ang hairbrush. Nagwagi si Mel na makuha ang hairbrush at dahil dito ay nanlumo si Korina. May nakapag-tip naman kay Korina sa kung sino ang may hawak ng hairbrush niya sa katauhan ni Jay Sonza na napagsabihan ni Mel ng kanyang sikreto.Naikwento ni Korina ang mga nangyari kay Loren.

Isang araw, nais ni Loren na gumanti kay Mel para sa kaibigang si Korina. Muntik na ma-late sa TV Patrol si Mel mula sa shooting ng kanyang Tide commercial kaya nagmamadali nitong tinawag si Korina upang magpatimpla ng kape.Nang malingat si Korina ay nag-spray ng spraynet ni Korina si Loren sa kape na itinimpla kay Mel. Nang inumin na ito ni Mel ay agad sumakit ang tiyan nito.Ilang minuto na lang at eere na ang TV Patrol at kinakatok na ng ilang staff si Mel sa banyo ngunit hindi ito makalabas dahil sa sumama ang kanyang tiyan.

Loren: Excuse me, si Korina ay prepared at pwede munang siya ang ihalili kay Mel habang nasa CR pa ito. Besides, isusuplong ko pa sa execs na gumawa ng Tide commercial itong si Mel at bawal iyon.

Kaya si Korina ang isinalang noong gabing iyon sa TV Patrol at nagustuhan ng taong bayan ang feedback. Naospital si Mel at nagngingitngit ito dahil na-suspend siya at hindi nya alam kung sino ang nagsumbong tungkol sa Tide commercial. Lumipat siya sa kalabang istasyon.

At doon nagsimula ang harbatan ng hairbrush na tinutukan ng buong PExers.

***At ngayon, na napasakamay na ni Korina ang kanyang hairbrush, alamin ang mga bagong kabanata sa kanyang buhay at kung paano muling haharbatin ni Mel ang hairbrush na pinagsimulan ng lahat, pati na rin ng mainit na TV NETWORK WAR.***

Season 1 Chapter 1: Simula Ulit ng Harbatan

Kasalukuyang nagpapahinga si Korina matapos niyang gawin ang kanyang mga segments sa Rated K. Nag-ring ang kanyang cellphone at sinagot niya agad dahil ang tumatawag ay ang kanyang bestfriend Kris Aquino.

Korina: Oh, hi Kris!

Kris: Naku ha may nabasa na naman akong negative write up sa iyo! Na-blind item ka mare!

Korina: Ows, talaga? Well for sure halata na namang ako noh? O talagang number 1 chikadora ka lang at alam mo agad na ako nga iyon?

Kris: Well, mataray daw!

Korina: Oy ha grabe di lang ako ang mataray!

Kris: Korek! Alam mo naman andyan pa ang bitter mong lola di ba?

Korina: Ano ka ba magbigay-galang sa matanda ha!?

Kris: Uhm, anyway, kamusta naman ang hairbrush mo with diamond sprinkles all over? Ok naman ba?

Korina: Well, heto at guess what!? Hawak hawak ko siya ngayon! Hay, parang ayaw ko nang bitawan pa ang hairbrush kong ito dahil baka maagaw na naman!

Kris: Well ganyang talaga!

Hindi nila alam ay naka-tap pala ang tawag na iyon. Sa office ni Tita Mel ay enjoy na enjoy ito sa pakikinig sa phone conversation nila Kris at Korina.

Mel: Hum! Akala mo lang! Di magtatagal ay mapapasaakin na muli ang hairbrush na iyan! Akala mo! Grrr! Nakakainis talaga!

Bumukas ang pinto ni Mel at pumasok ang partner niyang si Mike. Agad pinatay ni Mel ang speakerphone para hindi malaman ni Mike ang kanyang ginagawa.

Mike: Ano ang ginagawa mo diyan? Mukhang may ginagawa ka na namang hindi maganda? Tandaan mo, hindi kita tatantanan!!!

Mel: Ano ka ba naman partner, ako ang iyong Kapusong totoo.

Mike: Ok, at sana naman wag mo nang asamin na maharbat ang hairbrush na iyon. Una sa lahat, wala na si Korina sa TV Patrol kaya hindi na kayo magkatapat.

Mel: Ano ka!? Hindi pwede! Naiinggit ako sa hairdo ni Korina at ako lang ang may karapatang mabigyan ng magandang hairdo! At ang hairbrush lang na iyon ang makapagbibigay ng kasiyahan sa akin!

Mike: Ok bahala ka. Aalis na muna ako at may iimbistigahan lang sandali.

Sa bahay ni Korina, nagulat siya nang may mag-doorbell sa kanyang gate. Hawak, ang kanyang hairbrush, lumabas siya ng bahay at nalaman niya na ang bisita niya ay si Jessica Soho.

Korina: At ano ang ginagawa mo dito?

Jessica: Ano pa ba!? Uhm!

Agad kinuha ni Jessica ang hairbrush at tumakbo ito papalayo.

Korina: HINDEEEEE….

Nang nasa may kanto na si Jessica ay dumating ang isang taxi na minamaneho ng isa ring medyo katabaang tao – si Arnold.

Korina: Humanda kayo!!! Palibhasa hindi nyo ako kinabog sa pagtulong ninyo sa dati kong katulong!!! Huhuhuhu

Walang nagawa si Korina kundi ang manlumpasay sa kanyang gate. Samantala, dumating si Ted Failon upang sana ay bisitahin si Korina.

Ted: Korina? Ok ka lang ba? May kasama nga pala ako na gustong makipag-usap sa iyo. At susunod din pala dito si Julius at isa pang panauhin.

Korina: Wala ako sa mood ngayon. Ted, nawala muli ang aking hairbrush!!! Alam mo na ang hairbrush na iyon ang aking buhay!

Ted: Korina, ano ka ba? Enjoy your blessings!

Korina: Marami na akong pinagdaanan sa hairbrush na iyon. Naging sirena ako, naging superhero, nakilala ko ang future na anak namin ni Mar na si Marina (Mar + Korina), at kung anu ano pa. Di ako pwedeng mag-give up.

Ted: Ok sige pero bago iyan kasama ko dito si Karen Davila. Nais niyang magkausap kayo. Pinilit niyang isama ko siya dito.

Tinawag ni Ted si Karen.

Karen: Hi, Korina. Alam mo I felt bad talaga sa nangyari ngayon. And I would also like to say sorry for all the pain I have caused in the past.

Korina: K-ka-karen…

Niyakap ni Korina si Karen at napaiyak ito. Gayun din si Karen. Di niya inaasahan na yayakapin siya ni Korina. Maya-maya ay bumusina na si Julius at nagulat si Korina dahil kasama nito Charo Santos-Concio sa sasakyan.

Charo: Hi Korina! It’s a pleasure na ako ang magsasabi sa iyo ng sorpresang ito. Good thing andito na si Ted at kasama pa si Karen.

***
Ano ang sorpresang iyon ni Charo kay Korina at kasama na sila Ted, Julius, at Karen?

Chapter 2 – Son of a Gun, Smells like the Sun

Pumasok sa bahay ni Korina sina Julius, Ted at Karen kasama si Ms. Charo. Bagamat lungkot na lungkot si Korina ay naramdaman niyang isang magandang balita ang dala ni Charo.

Charo: Well, Korina, let me get straight to the point. I want you to come back to TV Patrol.

Korina: Wait, sure na ba kayo?

Ted: We would always love to have you back.

Karen: And I will humbly step aside kung mamarapatin mong bumalik sa iyong program.

Korina: No, Karen, alam mo namang love na kita ngayon. Ilalagay kita sa Star Patrol o kaya sa Ronda Probinsiya ok lang ba?

Karen: Hay naku kahit sa Kwento ni Marc Logan pa!

Julius: Ok ah. Oo nga pala, Ma’m Charo, kailan babalik si Korina?

Charo: Well, effective tonight. Ok? O sige may meeting pa kami sa office. I just wanted to tell Korina personally ang balak ng management. O be ready ha. Bye.

Umalis na si Charo, at sumabay na dito si Karen at Julius. Naiwan ang close friend ni Korina na si Ted.

Ted: Buti naman at ok na kayo ni Karen.

Korina: Wala yun.

Alas-5 ng hapon at naghahanda na ang lahat para sa kanilang newscast. Sa set ng 24 Oras ay nagulat si Mel dahil nakita niya si Jessica at Arnold sa likod ng cameraman.

Jessica: Hi bestfriend Carmel Tiangco! May surprise kami ni Arnold sa iyo!

Arnold: Tama, kung hindi man namin natalo si Korina thru her katulong, heto at ibinibigay namin sa iyo ang kanyang hairbrush!

Mel: Ahhh yan nga ang hairbrush na iyon! Tandang-tanda ko ang diamond sprinkles all over na iyan na kahit nasa dilim ay makikita mo ang hairbrush!!! Thank you talaga!!!

Arnold: Ooops, di yan ganun kadaling makuha. Syempre we need you to do us a favor.

Mel: Ano yun?

Arnold: Gusto naming mag-leave kayo ni Joey sa program ninyong Mel and Joey. Gusto naming mag-take over sa program at palitan ang title na Partners Jessica and Arnold. Ok?

Mel: Hah!?

Arnold: Ok so amin muna itong hairbrush.

“SANDALI!”

Isang sigaw ang narinig mula sa sulok ng set. Si Pia Guanio ito.

Pia: Well nasa inyo na naman pala ang hairbrush na iyan. Arnold, ibigay mo sa akin yan.

Arnold: Pero…

Pia: Kapag hindi ninyo ibinigay sa akin yan, negative exposure ang ibibigay ko sa inyo sa Chika Minute! At blind item ang aabutin ninyo sa Chona Chikadora this Sunday! O ano?!

Walang nagawa si Arnold kundi ibigay ang hairbrush kay Pia.

Pia: Hahahaha! Ako na ngayon ang may magandang career! Well, tita Mel, ibibigay ko sa iyo ito KUNG ako ang magiging lead anchor with Mike tonight at ikaw ang sa Chika Minute. Ngayong gabi lang naman e. Game?

Mel: Oo, sige, para sa hairbrush na ito gagawin ko! Sige akin na ang script mo para mapag-aralan ko na ang mga chika natin tonight.

Pia: Oops, tita Mel may live spiel ka ngayon around 5:40pm ha para teaser mamaya ok? Prepare ka na. I will read muna the headlines sa aking dressing room ok?

Mel: Akin na ang hairbrush!

Pia: Well, hindi pwede. Mamaya na.

Samantala, sa ABSCBN compound naman ay abala si Korina dahil hindi pa pala natuyo ang kanyang gagamiting dress Kinakausap ni Korina ang kanyang katulong.

Korina: Ano ka ba naman? Bakit dito mo kasi pinapatuyo ang damit ko sa loob e di mabaho yan pag hindi naarawan!

Isang matanda ang pumasok sa dressing room ni Korina.

Lola: Ano ka ba, kahit di maarawan, amoy pinatuyo yan sa araw!

Korina: Talaga? Sige nga.

Inamoy ng matanda ang damit at sabay sabing,

Lola: Son of a gun, smells like the sun! Ganyang ang labang Surf!

Korina: Ah ok lola tama na po ang advertisement. The last time nagkaroon ng soap endorsement ang isang kilalang TV personality na sikat noon eh natanggal siya sa network na ito.

At sumalang na sila Korina, Ted, at Julius sa TV Patrol World kasama si Karen sa Star Patrol. At sa kabila naman ay sila Mike at Pia sa 24 Oras kasama si Mel sa Chika Minute.

***
Sino ang aariba sa ratings? Sino ang mas magaling sa showbiz segment? Si Karen Davila sa Star Patrol? O si Mel Tiangco sa Chika Minute? Abangan!

Bitin ba?  Hehe. The rest can be found in this blog or in this Pinoy Exchange thread.

Ang Kabayo, Bow.

Bloghopping afforded me a good laugh after reading 80s Fevah by one pretty girl.  Hehe.  I remember one time (at bandcamp!) when one of my friends came home from one of her “rounds” fuming mad.  Hehehe. 

You see, my friend’s a vet and she used to work for one of the biggest feed mill in Cebu as a technical sales agent.  So in one of her visits to a prospect’s farm, she offered their products to the owner.  The man said, “Unya na lang, day, kay wa pa man akong kabayo. [Later.  Because my horse isn't here yet]“ 

My friend, a Chavacana, speaks fluent Cebuano but there’s a certain limit to your grasp of the wit and funny juices of the language if you’re not a native speaker.  Having come from a true-blue bisdak family, I was already laughing at this point. 

So she went on with her story.

She wondered what the kabayo had to do with it when she was specifically offering hog feeds and meds.  Thinking that the old man just misunderstood her, she went on to tell him the merits of their products and all that. 

Then the man said, “Di gyud ko kadesidir dayon anang mga butanga day kay nangompra pa man gud akong kabayo.  Tua pas merkado. [I really can't decide on those things right now because my horse is still in the market, buying stuff.]“  At this point, I could no longer contain my laughter. 

All the more confused (yep, she can be really slow when it comes to Cebuano jokes, even the blatantly obvious ones, smart as she is), she asked, “Nangompra imong kabayo, Nong?  Unsa man diay na imong kabayo? [Your horse went out to buy things, sir?  What kind of horse do you have?]“

The man broke into what can only be described as a guffaw and told her straight in the face, “Ay, kabayo gud, akong asawa ba!  Para unsa man diay nang asawa, di ba para kabay-an? [Oh, horse: my wife!  What are wives for?  They're for "horseback riding", aren't they?]“

As I said in my comment in 80s Fevah, I know that not all old men from the glorious past are male chauvenists.  They just have a way with words, Cebuano words.  My lolo, when he was still alive, punctuated his impassioned exchanges with his friends outside their rice mill in Molave with phrases like otin sa kabayo (horse’s penis), bilat s’yang nanay (the other person’s mom’s vagina) and some Spanish curses.  My father curses really bad too.  One thing about Cebuanos in Mindanao though, when we curse, it’s because we’re really outraged at something.  For those who are native Cebuanos–those who hail from and are in Cebu–they can mix cuss words with normal, toned-down conversations, the way Manileños say putcha or the original phrase itself, without meaning anything harsh, unless their tone changes. 

This is one of the reasons why I love my language and why it has been elevated to the level of language instead of just that of a dialect by some linguists.  And I’m proud that my father used to be active in LUDABI.  I’m not really sure if the group still exists but I wish a not-so-elitist Cebuano-speaking group would surface.  I mean, I know groups that read and write Cebuano poetry and host sessions that usually lead to serious gastronomic indulgence but sometimes, they tend to give me the impression of haughtiness–yeah, I’m a great Cebuano artist, now, who are you?  I’m sure it’s just my impression but still…

Going back to the horse, my landlady’s almost90something dad came home from the US, and saw one of our former housemates chatting with a foreigner using the common computer in the main house’s living room.  He then asked, “Unya, day, magminyo sad mo ana?  Ganahan na ka mahimong kabayo? [So, are you getting married with that? You want to become a horse?]“

My landlady, who was just a few inches away, almost fell off her chair.  Red-faced she said, Papa oi!

Albeit a joke, it will never be an acceptable term for wives nowadays.  Yeah, the men then didn’t really mean anything seriously wrong with the connotation but it’s also sad.  They only know of one position.  LOL.

So that, my friends is my story of the horse.  Bow.

Ten Things I Hate–Tagged

Dokie tagged me and since I am new to social blogging, I’m actually giving this my time of day.  Hehe.  I used to be a blogger in recluse so…

It’s supposed to be about ten things that I hate so here goes…

FOOD: Leftovers from YESTERDAY!

FRUITS: Rambutan.  I hate having to go through so much trouble just to eat a little part of it only to go through the same trouble of opening it and eating so little again.  I mean, yeah, you can actually just squeeze it all out in one sweep then help yourself to seeds disguised in a thin film of not so heavenly goodness.  Where’s the fun in there?

VEGGIES: I’m headed towards a healthier diet so I can’t think of any veg that I hate. 

PEOPLE: Holden would scorn these people alongside moi–phonies!  Hypocrites.  I can think of so many things to describe people that I hate but they all lead to this one word–hypocrites!  Especially those who are connected to anything religious.  I don’t have anything against honest to goodness believers of various gods, in fact, I admire those who proclaim their faith for all the world to see and hear.  But only to those who really mean and live by what they preach.  Ok?  Nuff said. 

I specifically hate gay and philandering priests who hide under their cassocks!   Jeez! 

I also DON’T LIKE girly-girls.  Well, at least not right away for some.  I’m not boyish and yeah, I say yuck and eww every now and then but I hate the cheerleadery girly-girly-girls who act like they’re god’s gift to men and that other women are yucky because they’re not like them.  I have girly girl friends who are really the real deal but there’s less than 5 of them–the rest? They’re like the rest of them!

Judgmental fools who feel like other people are low-lives because they do some faux pas.  Those goody-two-shoes who give shoes a bad name. 

One more thing, I hate people who complain a lot without doing anything to contribute to make the world a better place. 

EVENT/SITUATION/INCIDENT: I hate being talked to the moment I wake up.  I also hate being rushed into doing something or going somewhere.  I hate being rushed.  PERIOD.  People who know me, and love me, know I’m perennially late so no one bothers me with it.  That’s one reason why I refuse to work in the corporate world anymore.  And no, I don’t want to work in the government.  I know I can get away with being late, even being absent for a million days, but I can’t live with myself if I would be in that situation.  No offense to the people in the government service who work their as*es off just to make our lives a tad easier but no, I’m off-topic already!

And I hate parties where I have to dress up, unless I’m in the mood for it, which is uber-rare.

TV SHOWS/MOVIES: Still Breathing with Brendan Fraser.   You know those movies that make your head hurt a lot but you can’t sleep through them and you can’t even get out of the theater, or turn off the DVD player, as the case may be. 

I also hate really scary movies–well, only when I watch them alone. 

Wowowee–the host, the format, the dancers, the phoniness.

PBB–I used to loooove Laurenti Dyogi but he can’t help but go mainstream and then downstream. 

MUSIC: Novelty songs that refuse to get off my mind.  Those songs that you hate but out of the blue you hear yourself sing–lyrics memorized and all?!

HOUSEHOLD CHORES: Picking up after others. 

THINGS AROUND THE WORLD: Not things but people.  Things don’t just happen.  They become so because of people who manipulate everything for a myriad of selfish reasons.  I don’t have anything against people who do things for their own gain but if involves stepping on others’ toes, that’s something else. 

One more thing–APATHY.  It’s a disease that’s growing faster by the millisecond. 

THINGS ABOUT MYSELF: I have a bad temper.  My mother told the househelp when I came home after a five-year hiatus (read: attempt at independence), “when she’s good, she’s really good but mess with her and you’ll see hell coz when she’s bad, she’s really bad.”

I rarely forget bad things that people do to me.  I can easily forgive and when I do say I feel fine about things, I sincerely do so.

 

Smart–NOT!

I am fiercely loyal.  I guess I have talked about my loyalty to a fault a million and one times already. 

Ok.  I started with Smart.  When I got my first cellphone, I signed up under Smart.  For no apparent reason, but perhaps because I was also kinda loyal to PLDT!  Until now, I’m still a Smart subscriber.

So when I hooked up here, SmartBro was my first choice, mainly because I never had problems in application and in its installation process when I was in Cebu.  Well, it was for my nephew and I transacted over the phone and my nephew just paid up and met the tech guys.  An almost similar case transpired here when we got our connection.  I have an unmistakable commanding voice over the phone and over e-mails/etc so every now and then, I use THAT tone to get what I want.  Hehe.  Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m a very generous tipper and I like to pay my bills on time now (well, my mom does the actual paying because I hand over the moolah to her because I’m not good with schedules), but when I don’t get what I pay for and it gets really noticeable, I rant.  

I have no mercy for people on the other end of the lines.  Why?  I have worked in the customer service department in the past and I made it a point never to be inept and unhelpful.  If I didn’t know sh*t about what the client is ranting about, I would sincerely apologize and tell the client that I’ll do my best to look into it and get back to her/him with results, and I always did! 

Imagine my wrath when I, in my every-now-and-then cool head, called *1888 to get in touch with the tech support of SmartBro, expecting, yep you guessed it, TECH SUPPORT!  You see, a few weeks ago, I got myself a Bayantel DSL connection because my SmartBro was kicking my shin with its friggin’ intermittent internet connection woes.  Bad for biz.  And so because getting a Bayantel line is the most hassle-free and least inconvenient (their sales officer came by to give me the app forms and personally followed-up the processing of my app), I signed up for their service.  I was planning to use SmartBro as my backup internet connection so that I will have zero connectivity ever.  Long story short, Bayantel replaced my SmartBro’s place in my router’s wan port because I don’t have a dual-wan router, and SmartBro’s wan cable lies lifeless somewhere near my router.  You see, I have read somewhere that I can use both internet connections without  having to buy a dual-wan router.  Not only is that kind of router expensive, it is also a tad too hard to get.  Nil in Ozamiz!  Try asking around for it and more often than not, you’ll get a blank stare.  I know.  I did!  So I called the SmartBro’s tech support hotline to ask for their two centavos’ worth on what I should do. 

Tadaaaa.  After a million and one minutes, the guy on the other end–Riel?–told me that he’ll ask around,  and put me on hold. 

After another one million and one minutes, he came back with solution.  In a voice that told me he was so pleased with himself, he told me that it could work!  I can just buy a “routable switch” where I can plug both the Bayantel and SmartBro jacks and voila, I’ll be using both connections!  I said, hold on, fella, tell me how that works, again!  And he talked about input and output, etc.  Look, I never gave any hint that I knew 1/100th or so about networking so that he won’t talk gibberish with me but he did!  And the worst part there is that, he obviously didn’t understand what he was talking about either!  To make things worse, he added, “and Ma’am, the routable switch is somewhere around 30,000 pesos or so.”  And I said, oh, I don’t think that’s so great at all.  I didn’t even want to take the dual-wan router route right away because I wanted to explore cheaper alternatives so why give me that? 

And then he came up with the lamest of all lame lines.  He said–”Maam, we don’t allow routers in SmartBro.  That’s why we don’t have support for it because we don’t allow routers. ” 

I took a deep breath and said between teeth that were forced into a smile, “Let’s say I have ONE computer.  And I have TWO internet connections now–Bayantel and SmartBro, can you give me a suggestion on how I can use the two connections at the same time?”

“Ma’am, you can unplug Bayantel then plug SmartBro, then if you want to use the other one, you unplug it and plug the other one!” 

Heaven help me!  What have I done wrong today?! 

So I said, “Darling, that means I can’t use them simultaneously!”

And he had the balls to say, “Yes, Ma’am!” As if he was so glad that I finally got him!

So I asked, “May I speak with your supervisor?”

“He’s on his lunchbreak, ma’am”

“You mean no one is taking charge of the agents on the floor right now?”

“Oh, we have an OIC, ma’am!”

“Well, then, let me talk to him!”

After two million years, I was put through the OIC.  Name’s Joseph.  He sounded like another moron but at least he had the decency to sound apologetic and helpful.  And so I patiently recapped everything that happened.  And so he told me that he personally feels one ISP should just be disconnected.  He apologized because he didn’t know how to help me.  THAT I could take. 

Look, I understand how hard working as a call center agent is.  I know working when you should be sleeping can do weird things to one’s brain cells but because you took on that job, it is your duty to make things work the way they should.  And there’s nothing I hate more than awful customer service from huge companies who can afford to train and hire efficient reps.  I’m pissed off because I know I throwing my usual unreasonable fit.  I was being reasonable.  I had a DSL connection-related question and I asked the appropriate department for help.  And what did I get?  An a** of an answer from an a**hole of an agent!  If he told me that he couldn’t help me, and apologized properly, I wouldn’t have minded.  But no!  He sounded arrogant and defensive all throughout.  And the OIC?  Well, he served his purpose.  I just vented out on him and that was it.  I knew no one in there could help me anymore so what’s the point of escalating the issue. 

I have already decided to buy a dual-wan router so I could use SmartBro as a backup connection.  But now I have decided to just cut the SmartBro connection and get a PLDT line as backup.  At least, it’ll still be PLDT. 

I can never remember a good experience with Smart’s customer care hotline.  Ever.  Be it for mobile phone services or internet connection.  I wonder if the powers that be know about it.  I don’t have plans of switching SIMs because of this but I do plan to really just let go of my SmartBro.  I can never tolerate bad customer service–especially from such a huge company.

Dead: Dennis, Alex, Niño, Cris

I am a sorority quitter.  I don’t feel good about being branded as one but I am.  I remember not feeling so happy that I quit but I remember the huge relief that my mom felt when I did.

The sorority that I was supposed to be part of is one of the most prestigious ones in the Diliman campus.  Ces Drilon and Winnie Monsod were just two of my would-have-been sisses.  No less than the late former Pres. Marcos and Ninoy Aquino were just two of my would-have-been brods.  But I quit.  Because I couldn’t take the girly stuff.  Don’t get me wrong.  I liked the sor’s ideals and thrusts but during that time, I didn’t feel that I fitted in with the other girls.  If I were to turn back time, I wouldn’t have quit.  Why?  Because it meant that I could be hanging out with the filthy rich guys and future leaders of our country.  I could be in the parties of the “in” crowd.  I could be hosting movie premiere nights, concerts, charitable activities and what nots.  But I guess those were precisely some of the main reasons that I quit.  I wasn’t scared of the FR (final rites) because I knew what was going to happen.  But at the back of my mind, I knew that my mom was really scared even if I assured her that it was going to be ok.  Perhaps I didn’t sound too convinced myself that’s why my mother never really believed me.  And so, I quit.

Months and years after that, I still received invitations from various sors but upon learning that I was a quitter, they never tried to get in touch with me again.  Close friends who hailed from other sors told me how sayang it was because I would have enjoyed being a “sis” and I’m sure I would have.  A blockmate who happened to be a lady editor-in-chief of the university paper joined the “rival” sor of the one that I quitted from and she used to tell me everytime we met then how sayang that I said yes to the rival sor first.  I should have joined the sor that she was a member of because it was way better.  Her sor happens to be the sister org of the very controversial frat nowadays.

In my first official week as a UP student, I witnessed what would be the first of many fraternity-related “rumbles” in the hallowed halls of my beloved university that I would get to see.  My blockmates and I were walking along AS Lobby (the main lobby of Palma Hall, formerly College of Arts and Sciences, thus the nick AS) and were in our typical freshie patingin-tingin when all of a sudden, someone from the AS Steps (the main steps leading inwards the AS Lobby), armed with a lead pipe rushed to one guy who was standing somewhere in the lobby and tried to bash the latter’s head.  What ensued was a series of moves reminiscent of arnis combats that I used to watch in the gym.  Our block stood motionless–open-mouthed and wide-eyed.  We were officially welcomed to UP.

I am proud to be a product of the best school in the our country.  A university that nurtures a culture of intellectual excellence, liberal thinking, and a tradition of standing out from above the rest.  It is the university where people run around naked in the cold month of December,  and are applauded.  I had the best lessons–academic and practical.  I must admit, I got some of my worst habits from the school.  I can’t blame it on the bastion of academic freedom though.  I only have myself to blame for all the mishaps in my life.  I recognized my freedom and took full advantage of it.  But you see, with this emancipation comes great responsibility.  I saw it all.  While UP grooms every one of us to become independent and to value our individualism, there was another unspoken truth–affiliations help.  And it is with this unspoken truths that these so-called brotherhoods cross the line.

You see, when we were in our first year, UP pride was already inculcated in us.  Pride that stemmed from jokes, boasts, and arrogant statements here and there.  It was a lot of fun bashing other schools and laughing at “inside jokes” in the campus and out.  By the time we hit our second year, we already realize how “smart” we are and how “hireable” we all are.  So that brings in the most “obvious” solution–connections.  We live in a country where padrinos [patrons] rule.  And those who have bigwig patrons make it to the upper echelon of our society.  The common logic being–we are all from UP and so that alone is impressive to job recruiters but what if all the applicants are UP graduates whose grades pretty much go head to head against one another?  What would be the clincher?  Sororities.  Fraternities.

There are many organizations in UP–regional orgs, interest orgs, hobby-related orgs, sports orgs, college orgs, etc.  Not really the type that would jump out of one’s CV.  Looking good on paper is very important.  Greek-lettered organizations are different.  They give that much needed vignettes in an otherwise boring ceevee.

Those who aspire to be lawyers are the most common preys to frats.  You see, most big-time frats in UP are based in Malcolm Hall–the College of Law.  If you want to survive in law school, join a frat.  Because your brods will not only help you make it through law school, they will also help you get a possible partnership in one of the most prestigious law firms in the country where other brods are now junior and senior partners.  And of course, there’s the long list of politicians who hail from the same fraternity.  As a self-preserving sophomore or junior (it is illegal for freshies to be recruited–most are still being invited but it’s kept a secret), joining is almost inevitable.

But a brotherhood demands a lot.  It can be expensive.  It can sometimes be worth an arm and a leg–sometimes, a life.  Alexander Miguel Icasiano paid that price.  That fateful night was not only cold and full of uncertainty.  It was also an eye-opener.  You see, the guy’s batchmate and the would-have-been star witness was my batchmate.  We share the same student number prefix and we used to live in the same dorm as freshmen.  Tension was building up in our dorm that night.  I was in my third year then and a phone call to a friend who was a member of the fraternity that Alex was getting his FR for confirmed the buzz–Alex died.  I didn’t know Alex before that night.  But when I learned of his death, I never hesitated to run around the campus to fight for justice.  Alex died a senseless death.  Senseless death.  A phrase that has been overused but has never been made any sense over.  Alex’s corpse looked horrendous.  It was bloated from internal bleeding and he had bruises all over his body including his neck.  He was the poster boy for the Pulp Fiction line, beaten to a bloody pulp.  Alex got his justice. But he never got his life back.  Like Cris Mendez, he also was an NCPAG (National Center for Public Administration and Governance then just College of Public Administration) student.

Three years before we came to UP, Dennis Venturina, a Sigma Rhoan, died after having been ganged up on by a rival fraternity while eating lunch in the Beach House, a popular lunch destination for barbecue lovers who didn’t want to spend too much.  The place was just a few meters from the UP Main Library.  Dennis was literally beaten to death with lead pipes and metal baseball bats.  An orgmate in MCO (Mass Communicators Organization) told me that she heard his cries of agony but mistook them at first for sounds of pigs that were being butchered.  And indeed someone was being butchered that midday, only, it was another human being.  He fell into a coma and eventually died.

Personally, the most painful senseless death was that of Niño Calinao.  He was then a journalism student, like I was.  He was shot in point-blank range just a few meters from our dorm.  He was shot in the AS Walk.  A place where organizations usually set up booths/tables for membership applications, exhibits, sale, etc.  That unfortunate day, the poor guy was lounging in his org’s table with his orgmates.  He happened to be seated near the Scintilla Juris’ tambayan [a place where they hang out]. The hired gun, who didn’t bother to wear a mask, walked up to him and shot him because he was mistakenly thought of as the member of SJ that was “hunted” by the killer.  It was traumatic for some of my dormmates because some of them were seated beside or near Niño when the trigger was pulled and so NBI peeps came by to ask a few questions.  Prominent people figured into the incident but nothing fruitful really came out of it.  It was an unfortunate case of a mistaken identity that cost so much. Niño’s case was the last major frat-related incident that I was personally in the know of.

I feel so bad about the death of Cris Mendez.  I am far away from my alma matter but it has struck a chord because I thought after all the peace agreements and all other disciplinary actions these things would no longer happen.  His case, albeit sad and serious, is so typical of frat-related FR-related deaths.  And in my own wild guess, his death will just go down in history as part of the statistics.

There are still rumbles here and there in the campus but in UP, it’s not that big a deal anymore.  Sad, but true.  Frat-related violence makes me sick to my stomach.  When I was in the campus and I heard about guys beating one another because the guy from the other frat gave him that look–hell, they can’t even describe what that look is!–I kick myself because there were times when I wished that they would just kill everybody else like them.  I puke everytime I see features of fraternities and whatnots on TV and on other media when things like these happen.  No one seems to learn anything.

I can never empathize or even begin to understand the sense of hazing, be it psychological or physical, to test someone’s honest desire to be a part of a group.  For the life of me, I cannot understand why the rites of passage cannot be changed.  I cannot fathom the seemingly deep logic of being able to use lead pipes as proof of manhood.  I cannot understand for the life of me, why a former dormmate’s purpled thigh made HER really proud.

This is no longer a UP problem because for all things bright and beautiful, this is a reflection of what our country has become.  This is no longer about fratboys who would kill for a single glare.  This is about a culture of knowing that one can get away with doing something really bad because his/her brods who are already up there will get him/her off the hook.  This is about a social disease that no one wants to even take the first step in curing.  Because in one way or another, every single one of the powers that be is entangled in the web of brotherhood, sisterhood and gratitude.

I’m sorry, Cris.  I can’t do anything to help you.  Perhaps quitting was a good thing.  At least I did something to save myself.  At least I spared my parents from possible sorrow or shame.

Featuring the Movie: TEARLESS

I found the “movie poster” below in an online forum that I frequently visit. 

 

 Sidekick lang gihapon!!! LOL.

Falling in Love

Sometime in 1997, a paper that had obviously been held and read by too many people was passed to me by a roommate in Sampa. It contained a very long letter-like prose about falling in love. It moved me and opened my eyes to so many things about loving, letting go and acceptance-cheesy as that sounds. Unfortunately, I never got a copy of that paper. For so many years, I looked around for it. I was never able to memorize a single line in it so Googling it never proved fruitful.

Ten years after, I found an already yellowish wad of torn pages from Kent Nerburn’s Letters to My Son. The prose that I have been looking for all these years sprung from the pages. This time, I will never let it go-although I had to return the wad to a friend. Read on.

It is a mystery why we fall in love.

It is a mystery how it happens.

It is a mystery when it comes.

It is a mystery why some love grows and it is a mystery why some love fails.

You can analyze this mystery and look for reasons and causes, but you will never do anymore than take the life out of the experience.

Just as life itself is more than the sum of the bones and muscles and electrical impulses in the body, love is more than the sum of the interests and attractions and commonalities that two people share.

And just as life is a gift that comes and goes in its own time, so too, the coming of love must be taken as an unfathomable gift that cannot be questioned in its ways.

Sometimes, hopefully at least once in your life – the gift of love will come to you in full flower, and you will take hold of it and celebrate it in all inexpressible beauty. This is the dream we all share.

More often, it will come and take hold of you, celebrate you for a brief moment, then move on.

When this happens to young people, they too often try to grasp the love and hold it to them, refusing to see that it is gift that is freely given and a gift that just as freely, moves away.

When they fall out of love, or the person they love feels the spirit of love leaving, they try desperately to reclaim the love that is lost rather than accepting the gift for what it was, then moving on.

They want answers where there are no answers. They want to know what is wrong in them that makes the other person no longer love them, or they try to get their lover to change, thinking that if some small things were different, love would bloom again.

They blame their circumstances and say that if they go far away and start a new life together, their love will grow.

They try anything to give meaning to what happened. But there is no meaning beyond the love itself, and until they accept its own mysterious ways, they live in a sea of misery.

You need to know this about love, and to accept it.

You need to treat what it brings you with kindness.

If you find yourself in love with someone who does not love you, be gentle with yourself. There is nothing wrong with you. Love just didn’t choose to rest in the other person’s heart.

If you find someone else in love with you and you don’t love her, feel honoured that love came and called at your door, but gently refuse the gift you cannot return. Do not take advantage, do not cause pain. How you deal with love is how you deal with you, and all our hearts feel the same pains and joys, even if our lives and ways are different.

If you fall in love with another, and she falls in love with you, and then love chooses to leave, do not try to reclaim it or to assess blame. Let it go. There is a reason and there is a meaning. You will know in time.

Remember that you don’t choose love. Love chooses you. All you can really do is accept it for all its mystery when it comes into your life. Feel the way it fills you to overflowing, then reach out and give it away.

Give it back to the person who brought it alive in you. Give it to others who deem it poor in spirit. Give it to the world around you in anyway you can. This is where many lovers go wrong. Having been so long without love, they understand love only as a need. They see their hearts as empty places that will be filled by love, and they begin to look at love as something that flows to them rather than from them.

The first blush of new love is filled to overflowing, but as their love cools, they revert to seeing their love as a need. They cease to be someone who generates love and instead becomes someone who seeks love. They forget that the secret of love is that it is a gift, and that it can be made to grow only by giving it away..

Remember this, and keep it to your heart. Love has its own time, its own seasons, and its own reasons for coming and going. You cannot bribe it or coerce it, or reason it into staying. You can only embrace it when it arrives and give it away when it comes to you. But if it choose to leave from your heart or from the heart of your lover, there is nothing you can do and there is nothing you should do.

Love always has been and always will be a mystery.

Be glad that it came to live for a moment in your life.

If you keep your heart open, it will come again.

Nerburn, Kent. Letters To My Son

Guilty!

Finally! 

But I’m not purely happy today.  I’m also a bit sad.

As one of the many then-students who took to the streets to call for the ouster of the then-President Joseph Ejercito Estrada, I am happy with the verdict.  No, I don’t feel happy because a man of such stature has to suffer all these but I can only say that our indiscretions in the past, regardless of our social standing, will eventually catch up with us, if not now, then later.  And Erap, as he is fondly called by the people who look up to him, has finally taken the brunt of his extremely easy life in the past. 

As his supporters cry, bilog ang mundo (the Earth is round).  He hails from a middle class family.  He was sent to one of the best schools in the country but was expelled for fighting.  Because of that, he never finished his education, something that ironically brought him fame later on in his life.  He turned his attention to the silver screen.  His old school family did not approve of his actions and so he was then pitted with the worst punishment any family member could ever receive–he was stripped of his family name and since then has gone by the name of Joseph Estrada. He rose to fame–from small bit roles to stardom.  He later became one of the pillars of the Philippine Cinema.  He usually played the underdog in the movies that he made.  The masses identified with and found hope in the roles that he played–the guy in denims who speaks broken English that was more popularized by the term Carabao English.  Gaining more popularity by the hour, Estrada vied for the title of mayor of his hometown, San Juan, and won.  His stint as a mayor made him all the more popular that he climbed the political ladder as a senator, veep and later on, as president.  All through his life, he took pride in his parties, women, gambling and “friends” until one of these ”friends” blew the whistle, which led to the most publicized trial in the country–his impeachment, the first in the Philippines.  He left the presidential palace but maintained that he never left his presidency.  He was held in house arrest in his resthouse in Tanay where he enjoyed a softer bed, high-end medical treatment and occasional visits to the old Ejercito matriarch.  After six long years, the verdict is finally out.  Indeed, the world is round.  But it is not that round at all because while he has been convicted, he will remain in house arrest.  The Filipinos, after all, are a forgiving and soft-hearted lot.  We can never afford to see a former president share a cell with the inmates in Munti, the national penitentiary in Muntinlupa. 

And so I am happy.  At least I did not waste my one-week stay in Edsa in January 2001.  I feel that somehow the battle is half-won.  From the very instance that Davide uttered the words, “the No votes have it,” I grabbed my windbreaker, a few bills and my apartment keys and hailed a cab.  It was almost 10 in the evening and it was a bit windy but the weather remained kind and solicitous.  When we got to EDSA, the taxicab driver had to stop a few meters shy from Camp Aguinaldo because the crowd was getting bigger.  So I had to walk.  Along the way, I met former dormmates, a few classmates, some kababayans and a few other ka-isko and iska.  What started as a gloomy night turned into an impromptu party.  The LFS, then active NDF members, and other militant groups who had megaphones chanted Erap Resign!  Everybody gladly joined in.  I remember being teary-eyed when I got there.  It was really something else!  There were no organizers, no leaders, no nothing.  It was a united move by people from all walks of life.  Unknown to us who first arrived in the EDSA Shrine where everybody else converged, the late Cardinal Sin urged the people in his circle to take the trial to the streets.  And so a few hours later, priests, seminarians, nuns, brothers and other religious groups arrived.  I remember Tessie Tomas.  She climbed on top of one of the stranded vehicles and borrowed a megaphone from one of the militant group leaders.  She performed!  And it made the evening a fun evening with a very serious cause.  Then I saw Prof. Randy David with Atty. Katrina Legarda, God, she looks like a Goddess in person!  Really!  The presence!  And then the first politician that I saw that night was Teofisto Guingona.  Like the trapo that he is, he went around and shook hands with everybody.  Because I thought he was loyal to the cause, I gladly shook hands with him too.  Had I known he’d one of the worst turncoats of all time, I never would have.  If I can only wash the memories off my hands!  At around 2 in the morning, people who brought bread, biscuits, and etc, literally broke bread with those beside and behind them.  I remember really feeling so moved by that.  The loud berating of the 11 hudas (Filipino slang for traitor, after Judas Iscariot) senators was also fun.   I was in EDSA from dusk till dawn, more like from around 4PM before the mass to around 8AM just to grab a power nap and then attend my classes–not for long because UP, especially CMC (College of Mass Comm), went to EDSA in full force, so classes were unofficially suspended.  Oh how I danced when Estrada finally stepped down, even if he continues to vehemently deny having done so!  And I remember feeling a bitchy glee when JV Ejercito cried like a girl! 

I am not pro-Gloria but when she took her oath of office, I jumped up and down.  She was the next best thing then.  While I can’t turn a deaf ear on her and her family’s indiscretions, I can’t find it in me to call for her resignation.  For what?  To install Loren Legarda, Manny Villar, Noli de Castro, Estrada, JDV, or any other ambitious wolves in sheep’s clothing?  Jeez!  Yes she has a lot to answer for but we can’t deny the fact that she has made a lot of changes in the country that we live in.  People still complain about poverty but only because the politicians that we are used to loving are those who are there for us on KBLs–kasal, bunyag, lubong.  We are used to asking for dole-outs for anything, from meal tickets to job placements to winning bids.  We can’t handle having a president who wants to make huge changes for long-term progress.  Yes, the president has a lot to answer for but the peso has never enjoyed this much value since Estrada left.  A million and one calls for her resignation have come and gone but not one has succeeded.  You have to give the lady credit for having a stronghold on her presidency.  I have always admired cunning people and I will always say that women are more cunning and scheming than men will ever be.  So if I were to choose between a stupid and corrupt president, and a cunning and corrupt lady president, I’d take the latter.  At least she knows what she’s doing. 

In line with Estrada’s guilty verdict, I can only admire Sen. Lacson’s gentlemanly comment. 

“While I’m saddened, even shocked by the guilty verdict, it is not for a layman like me to judge the Sandiganbayan justices who rendered the decision. I may choose to disagree or be disheartened by the sentence of reclusion perpetua but the justices obviously had better access to all d information and evidence they need to arrive at their unanimous decision,” he said.

“Lacson expressed hope that the Supreme Court can arrive at a fair and just decision.

“The next legal battle for the former president is just about to unfold…In the meantime, I will, in my own personal capacity do whatever I can to console and provide moral support to the former president,” he added.”

I personally do not like Sen. Lacson because of his penchant for disclosing half-baked exposés.  As he personally said, he’s but a layman. I come from a family of lawyers and I know that you never have a case until you have evidence that is admissible in the court of law.  Otherwise, what you have is pure hearsay.  That’s one of the reasons why I will never join in the clamour for GMA’s resignation.  When I get the time, I’ll write about it, but for now, I’ll rest my case.

Oh, I’m also sad, and it’s partly because of Pres. GMA and Estrada.  The value of dollar took another plunge today.  Just when it’s payday for some of my projects! 

 By the way, my deep admiration bordering on infatuation (oh God, I really like OLDER men!) for Joker Arroyo.  In all the days that I was in EDSA for that so-called uprising, he never showed up.  He would have gotten more exposure there especially when he spearheaded the prosecution panel.  I remember the thundering applause that he always gets when his name is mentioned but he never took the centerstage.  There were talks that he went there but stayed in the chapel away from the maddening crowd.  Unlike Loren Legarda who loved it so much when the crowd applauded for her.  I hope she doesn’t forget that she became a more prominent figure because she cried when another turncoat, Pimentel “resigned” as Senate President.  Oh the drama that our politics play!  This is why I like GMA’s (the network) Telebabad more.

Sources:

AFP.”Estrada: from movie star to Philippine president — to jailbird.” TodayOnline. Sept. 12, 2007.  http://www.todayonline.com/articles/210701.asp

Uy, Veronica.  ”Senators ‘saddened’ by Estrada verdict but say just Round 1.” INQUIRER.net. Sept. 12, 2007. http://newsinfo.inquirer.net/breakingnews/nation/view_article.php?article_id=88125

I Like For You to Be Still

I like for you to be still: it is as though you were absent,
and you hear me from far away and my voice does not touch you.
It seems as though your eyes had flown away
and it seems that a kiss had sealed your mouth.

As all things are filled with my soul
you emerge from the things, filled with my soul.
You are like my soul, a butterfly of dream,
and you are like the word Melancholy.

I like for you to be still, and you seem far away.
It sounds as though you were lamenting, a butterfly cooing like a dove.
And you hear me from far away, and my voice does not reach you:
Let me come to be still in your silence. And let me talk to you with your silence
that is bright as a lamp, simple as a ring.
You are like the night, with its stillness and constellations.
Your silence is that of a star, as remote and candid.I like for you to be still: it is as though you were absent,
distant and full of sorrow as though you had died.
One word then, one smile, is enough.
And I am happy, happy that it’s not true.

Pablo Neruda

If you’ve heard Glenn Close recite this in Il Postino, you’d understand if I say—goosebumps.

Still I Rise

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust,

I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?

Why are you beset with gloom?

‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells

Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops.

Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?

Don’t you take it awful hard

‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines

Diggin’ in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air,

I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?

Does it come as a surprise

That I dance like I’ve got diamonds

At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shameI rise

Up from a past that’s rooted in pain

I rise

I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,

Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fearI rise

Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear

I rise

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,

I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise

I rise

I rise.

Maya Angelou 

 –This is just one of the reasons why Maya Angelou rocks! 

Of Porn, SPAM and Penis Talks

Everyday, I delete thousands of e-mails in my SPAM folder.  I never thought how big a market men can be until I REALLY looked into my thousands and thousands of SPAM. 

Gadgets, pills, therapy–everything from nearly-believable to totally out of this world–that are supposed to cure penile problems from erectile dysfunction to small penises to premature ejaculation.  Gosh!  I know some women are quite insecure about their breasts and I know men can launch a thousand years of war just for their manhood and its biological symbol.  But I never thought their market is way bigger than women’s considering that there are more women than men on earth–and Mars–or wherever else! 

Now I wonder, with so many porn sites and flicks featuring well-endowed, and sometimes, extraordinarily well-endowed (I’m talking about knee-length well-endowed, and I don’t mean socks!) men, are those who belong to the supposed stronger sex group feeling the pressure? 

I don’t want to be coy and say I haven’t watched smut because I have, and in my line of work, I have been commissioned to review adult sites far too many times that I had to reformat my pc everytime I do it because of spyware.  I got my first taste of porn movie when an ex-boyfriend invited me to watch it with him.  Of course we never got to finish it.  But out of curiosity, I watched the whole thing on my own.  I’d be a big liar if I’ll tell you that I never felt anything.  But that’s just it.  Usually when watching porn, you only get a slight reaction the first time you watch it.  It was never something that I would want to watch over and over again.

Then came the advent of modern technology–spycams, webcams, all those eye-in-the-hole things–one of the main reasons why I never liked checking in!  I used to go out with a guy who covers himself in a blanket everytime we get down and dirty for fear of seeing his butt in the bangketa one day!  The saddest news that has reached me so far was that of one of the girls in the Dumaguete scandal.  I was really bothered by that because I remember laughing to one of the girls because her name was written on her panties for the whole world to see.  I’m not sure if she was the one who killed herself or if it’s true that one of them really killed herself.  But it was really sad because they trusted those people.  It’s not like the sex scandals these days when the people involved know what’s happening.  The funniest for me is the Dipolog scandal, I’m not even sure if it’s in or from Dipolog but the guy looks really funny.  Um, not funny funny but funny!  Hahaha.  I can’t explain it!  And the girl looked quite fine.

Ok, my main reason for talking about porn is because I noticed that most men that I know–ex-boyfriends, boy friends, relatives, etc–prefer Filipino porn.  I have always wondered if it was about the size!  I know American porn can be really boring and Asian (mostly Japanese, Thai and Indian) can be bizarre!  I saw the pinoy scandals that invaded the corporate world’s networked offices before, way before IT became uber-strict, thanks to Friendster.  But they were not exciting because they somehow were imitations of foreign porn, which make them really boring too!  The thrill was in being one of the many who “saw” the this and that scandal.  So I haven’t really seen a true-blue Pinoy smut. 

I saw the pene-movies in one of my Film classes in college but they were something else!  They were NOT titillating but were enough to keep you from falling asleep in a very cold and dark room in the basement of the main college!  The pene-movies that were named so because they showed the actual penetration came at a time when the Philippines was in its darkest political years.  They say that when “bold” movies abound, the government has something to do with it because people are by nature, escapists so when the going gets too tough, we watch movies that take our minds off the stranglehold of the government on our lives. 

Going back to the size issue…I know women talk openly with other women their breast issues, butt issues, even going-down-hang-ups and all that.  Do men do the same?  I mean do they also talk about their phallic concerns to the point of showing one another their penises?  I know two guys who did that but they were super drunk and they were in one of those pahabaan ng ihi sessions. 

But really, the market is reaaaalllly big! 

Now this gets me thinking–if I were to think of a business, it should be something that would cater to men.  I have always liked boutiques and spas but I think I’m missing the bigger slice of the pie.  Most of my clients are male.  Most of my arte clients are females.  Most of my generous clients are male.  Most of my kuripot clients are female.  Now we’re getting somewhere.  I have a huge smut collection.  That could be a start.  I was planning of throwing them away coz my nieces and nephews might accidentally watch them–not that I want to block their sexual emancipation but I don’t think they’re ready for the kind of collection that I have.  Well, Malena, Amelie, Antonia’s Line, Ora Pro Nobis, Tuhog, Selya, Ligaya and other artsy sexy films are different.  They’re of a different league. 

Say Teeeeth!

I’m proud to say that I never had to wear braces, retainers or even dentures.   

Well, I might have to wear dentures eventually but I have a well-shaped and healthy set of teeth.  I had to undergo two dental surgeries for two impacted third molars–the other one was in the upper set!  Gosh! The agony of it!  I still have two more that need to be “excavated” and pulled out–hello Dalacin and Mesulid!  I miss you two! The first two were literally excavated.  Extracted would be too mild a word for what was done to my wild teeth–my dentist told me one was even deformed and looked like the tree near Hogwarts.   I had an RCT (Root Canal Treatment/Therapy) for one of my second molars because I love my teeth and I don’t like losing them–um, I don’t believe in euthanasia when it comes to my chewers. 

Anyway, I think the RCT will have to be redone because I have a bad feeling that it wasn’t done that well.  What can I say, I was a poor student in Metro Manila and the best cheap ortho that I could find was that lady dentist somewhere near UP-PGH because I didn’t have the patience to wait in line for PGH dentists–believe me, at 7 in the morning, the lines are already a mile-long! The dentists in the Diliman infirmary do not do RCTs there and they charge sky-high in their private clinics.  Hello, Manila rates? Besides, it was done over five years ago.  It’s about time the time capsule gets out of the earth.  LOL.  

I’m sure not so many people even know about RCT or what it is or what impacted third molars are because for most patients, the answer to an aching tooth is an extraction, and the only time to visit a dentist is when the tooth hurts real bad and a thread can’t do the trick. 

I thought about writing about my teeth issues and of those people that I know because of this blog entry.  I remember my landlady in Cebu who perennially gets mouth sores and lesions because of her cheeck teeth.  I learned about the relation of misaligned cheek teeth from my dentist and I asked my landlady if that was the cause of her constant mouth probs.  And after over four years of my stay in that place, I learned that her problem could have been solved easily had she done what her dentist told year over 20 years ago but it’s too expensive so what she has chosen to do is just apply that cream that she gets from her dentist anyway.    

We Filipinos have a way of taking care about ourselves–I should know.  I refuse to quit smoking–well, not until I’m 30 and I still have 3 more years.    You know how we Filipinos are?  Remember the expression, malayo sa bituka? And our penchant for disregarding any discomfort–basta makatindog pa, ok pa na! 

No wonder Dentistry has become a not-so-lucrative field nowadays, especially in this part of the world.  But then again it all boils down to our country’s culture and economy.  You see, foreigners, ok, let’s take Americans for example.  I don’t want to generalize because I only base this to six Americans that I personally (meaning I have really seen in person, people! Being an online goddess, I have to make that clear.  ) know although all of them agree on one thing–I am weird because I bring a toothbrush to work so I can brush my teeth after lunch.  They don’t.  Yeah, brushing twice a day is ok.  But for them six, once a day will do.  Two is also fine but three?  Excessive.

The thing is, they can afford to be carefree about it.  Going to the dentist isn’t really as traumatic for them as it was for most of us.  Traumatic being, painful, expensive and expensive and expensive.  Most foreign countries have really good medical, inclusive of dental, coverage so when they get hurt, they don’t have to worry that much.  If you’ve seen Sicko, you’ll think what I’m saying is bull.  But if you compare their medical benefits to ours, you’ll agree with me when I say that theirs is almost heaven.  My take here, this problem is more of economical than cultural.  That’s why it’s really sad

Besides, no offense to the really good dentists in the area, like my new online friend, there aren’t that many good dentists hereabouts.  From where I grew up, I could count with one hand the really well-known dentists when I was in my toddler years.  The first one was a character who must have played a huge part in the childhood years of almost all those who grew up in our town in the 70s and 80s.  I remember laughing to stories about my brother playing tag with the dentist, his assistant, my father and someone else before he was practically held down to the dentist’s chair, which was, by the way, just another office chair.  And then came the cold steel injection…and then the PLIERS!  Ok, I’m exaggerating, as I have comfortably become accustomed to these days, but I know the cold steel injection because I had been to his clinic before.    The first time I had a Pap Smear, I remembered my first trip to the dentist because the feel of that cold steel thing being slowly inserted to me and then slowly twisted–you get the picture!–was really reminiscent of those cold things that they inserted in my mouth when I was but a kid. The second dentist, who happened to be a public school dentist, was anything but sanitary.  Ok–she was DIRTY!  And she became a major figure in urban legends here and there.  Well, I must admit, I judged her by her looks.  Correct me if I’m mistaken but how would you describe someone whose hair was unkempt and smelled like hay examined my teeth while we were standing up because that amazing chair didn’t work anymore?  She was also wearing her farming boots.  And we were standing right by the kitchen door near the sacks of palay were dried.  Tell me, is that sanitary?  And the local grapevine spewed tales of her being into Satanism.  Oh, how the kids feared her!  I think that was sometime between 1987-1990?  I’m not really sure, but the infamous cult gained notoriety around that time with wild rumors linking it to some symbols and products.  But my parents knew that dentist and we were neighbors so we never really believed it.  But still!!! I remember using the thread to pull my teeth after that fateful visit to her “clinic”.  I’d rather do it myself.    There was another one–he was my favorite.  The smell of Johnson’s Band-aid Isopropyl Alcohol reminds me of him because his tools were always clean and he always smelled clean.  I think somehow that triggered the OC in me.  I can’t live without an isopropyl alcohol–nope, ethyl won’t do.  Anyway, years later, he was rumored to be hugely drug dependent–it seemed like something that dentists in our area got hooked into then–and I didn’t wanna take a risk in having my tongue pulled out instead of my teeth.    Good thing I was already about to go to college then. When I was a kid, I told my mom then that I had to see the dentist every six months because I read in one of my textbooks that that’s what should be done!  And since then, I never had any major problems with my teeth.  Except for those force majeure like those stupid wisdom teeth! I still have a few teeth issues that need to be addressed because they MUST be.  I have one molar that has been leaning heavily on one cuspid (I always confuse the cuspids with the bicuspids, doc, unsay tawag sa tapad sa first molar nga di second molar?  hehe).  Because of this, my gum hurts every now and then because everytime I chew, the leaning bully tooth pounds on the hapless leaned on tooth.  And of course, there are still two more wisdom teeth that need to be removed. God!  I was born with four crazy not-so-wise teeth!  I mean, what wise tooth would want to grow inwards when all the rest grew outwards!  And to think they’re the last to really grow! You’d think they’ve learned from those that came out before them! Jeez! Now I remember my niece.  My sister has overdone the dental care of her kids.  I’m not sure what happened but because my niece’s milk teeth were still there when the permanent teeth were supposed to take centerstage, they had to do major milk teeth removal or whatever they’re called.  Sigh! I remember pushing my gums with my tongue and massaging them with that ultra-powerful muscle, because my mom told me so.  I don’t know where she got it or if it had any medical basis but I think that’s the reason why I never had any sungki or even misaligned teeth.    But I’m still eyeing Zoom because I smoke big time and my dentist always curses me behind his mask everytime he cleans my teeth because of those stains.  He said using Zoom would not be practical if I don’t quit smoking.  So what’s the verdict?  Hmmm…But as they always say, prevention is better than cure and if you have second thoughts about seeing your dentist anytime soon, think of the last time that you had a toothache and how it ruined not just your meal but your whole day.  Now, think again.  

Must Love Dogs

I’m into dogs now.  LOL.  Not that, you green-minded moron!  But really, my sister just gave me two ordogs (ordinary dogs, I don’t like the word mongrel coz it sounds too snobbish). Or should I say, orpups!  LOL. 

So now, feeding, playing and potty training my new pets keep me all the more occupied.  So when I was searching for an old e-mail that I got a few years ago in my Gmail (that’s Gmail for you, folks, fast, reliable and very helpful), I found this funny forwarded message.

Top Ten Dog Peeves About Humans

10. Blaming your farts on me… not funny… not funny at all!!!

9. Yelling at me for barking.. I’M A FRIGGIN’ DOG, YOU IDIOT!

8. Taking me for a walk, then not letting me check stuff out. Exactly whose walk is this anyway?

7. Any trick that involves balancing food on my nose… stop it!

6. Any haircut that involves bows or ribbons. Now you know why we chew your stuff up when you’re not home.

5. The sleight of hand, fake fetch throw. You fooled a dog! Whoooo Hoooooooo what a proud moment for the top of the food chain.

4. Taking me to the vet for “the big snip”, then acting surprised when I freak out every time we go back!

3. Getting upset when I sniff the crotches of your guests. Sorry, but I haven’t quite mastered that handshake thing yet.

2. Dog sweaters. Hello ???, Haven’t you noticed the fur?

1. How you act disgusted when I lick myself. Look, we both know the truth, you’re just jealous.

In a rerun of one of the old episodes of Seinfeld, Jerry talked about people who walk their dogs while holding a litter bag. He delivered his opening with a look of total disgust. LOL. He said that if people were supposed to be the masters of the dogs, picking their poop up tells an entirely different story. I remembered it this morning while I was cleaning up the area where my pups do their stuff. Was laughing to myself at 6 in the morning. My mom gave me that look that tells me she thinks I lost it again so early! But really, it makes you wonder…

Top Five Mistakes Women Make in Relationships

It has just been a few months since I got out of a five-year relationship, well, over five years. Before that, I had a collective 6-year experience in serious relationships. That’s  more or less around 11 years in total.  Jeez.  Not that I call myself an expert on men, hello! I’m single, remember? But over the past 11 summers of my life, I have made and learned from so many mistakes. Oh please, I’m not one of those heartbroken women who blame themselves for their break-ups. Duh! I broke up with the guy because he’s a pathological liar—the last time we talked, he still denied ever flirting and continuously exchanging sweet-nothings and god knows what with his ex-girlfriends and, simply put, other girls—and because I learned that he never really had plans for us, not even anything tentative so his biggest crime was in leaving me in a limbo, making me believe when he told me a few years back that we were heading towards something in less than 10 years. Talk about liars!

Hell yeah, I’m bitter. I don’t want to deny something true like that but it doesn’t mean I’m not ok. Hey, that does not mean I am free from any dirt. Haha! I wouldn’t tell you the naughty secrets but I hope every other woman out there can learn from the areas where I did fall short on.  These are five mistakes women make in relationships, not the only ones, but definitely, five of the most common.

My point is, I have made mistakes in the past and I know my exes did too. I can’t speak for them so I might as well just talk about the things that I am sure were glitches on my part. I’d like to think that I’ve learned from them but every now and then I talk to myself and ask myself if I haven’t made the same mistakes again. I guess the best thing about learning is admitting that somewhere along the way, we made mistakes. We wallow in misery for a time, try to rectify those errors, and then move on. The beauty of life is that it does go on.

Believing that Men Can Read Women and that We Can Read Them Accurately
When a man says No, most of the time, he means it. So when you ask a guy if it’s all right with him if you don’t go out with him that night, and he says yes, he means it. When he tells you that he’s not angry, he means it.
When a woman says No, she means Yes. When a woman says Maybe, she means No (or Yes). When a woman says Yes, she means No (or Yes). Ask a woman if she’s angry, she’ll tell you no and sulk all through the night. And what fans the flame? The fact that you didn’t get that she’s really angry!

Funny?

Not quite. This weird mind-reading stuff almost always starts the biggest fights of the century.

Men can be very simple beings with very explicit needs and wants. Um, let me think of a few things that I know of—food, sports/games, food, sex, other men, food, sex, a vehicle or two, action flicks, games, sex, A good PAIR of footwear, food, gadgets, good time, sex. It may not be a combination of all these but most men would tick most of the boxes if I placed one beside each item.

What about us, women? What do we want? Let me break these down into two categories, the tangible and the intangible. Tangible—shoes, bags, jewelry (engagement ring, among others), books, nice little things, love letters, poems, love songs, shampoo AND conditioner, perfumes, flowers (even the most ungirly girl looooves flowers, and even if she says it’s just a waste of money), shopping money, lipstick—yes, we can go on without sex and food for days. Intangible—the #1 spot in your phonebook, or at least a speed dial spot, anniversaries (or the widely fought over “monthsaries” and that’s not limited to when we said yes but also to the first day we met, first time we went to the movies together, first time we kissed, etc), birthdays (ours, our family members, our friends, etc), “quality time” (can be holding hands in silence, sitting side by side in the most uncomfortable places, etc), an SMS everywhere you go (most especially, a Good Morning and a Good Night plus something more after that because if it’s just a greeting, it spells COLD and UNINTERESTED), a call for sweet-nothings, a sympathetic ear for a litany of a friend’s woes, deleting your ex-girlfriend’s memories forever (some of us are ok with you guys being friends with each other but being close friends with the EX is a totally different thing, especially if you still communicate regularly), time to talk about our friends at work, time to talk about whether Willie Revillame is at fault or if Joey de Leon is such a jerk, or if Lindsay Lohan will ever reform or not, patience for our quest for the best pair of shoes in over one million shops over one million times, the chance to say no at your suggestion of where to eat after we ask you where we should eat (and we hate it when you don’t give us your suggestions and tell us, kaw bahala because we think you don’t have a mind of your own), your undivided attention even when we’re talking about the most mundane and senseless things, a ready “no, dear, you look just fine” everytime we say we feel and look too fat, surprise candlelit dinner dates (but don’t make it so much of a surprise because we don’t want to go to a fine-dining resto underdressed). I’m not sure if I listed everything down but that’s more or less it. Yeah, yeah, I may be exaggerating on most parts and while some may say that we are overly shallow, let me defend my group. Most of the time, we don’t know what we want. But one thing’s for sure, we are a bunch of attention-seeking beauties whose emotional stability can easily be rocked by another woman a kilometer away. Oh, and when you’re tired and it so happened that we’re horny and hot and we try to send you signals the way a cat walks through your legs every now and then, don’t ever make the mistake of ignoring us. That is a prelude to a sleepless night anyway so better make it rise and shine and go for it.

When we say don’t call us or don’t talk to us or don’t come near us, please don’t be cooperative.  If there’s one thing that we hate, it’s not hearing from you despite what we tell you.  Really!

One thing of caution for us women though, when it comes to love signals, men tend to be a little coy and wary on that department so if you’re just starting to get to know the guy, don’t go scaring him off with lines like, “I think I’m falling for you” or “I love you!!!” because men unconsciously do not welcome those feelings and emotions with open arms. While it is true that men are scared of commitments (come on, admit it, guys) because of their preconceived notions about it (source: exaggerated stories from their friends!), they are not at all closing their doors on it. With the right girl, they can really give it their best, just give them time. And keep watch for those accidental slips of emotional displays from them. Those are gold!

Men are NOT from Mars
While books tell you that we are all aliens, you don’t have to take it literally. Men are earthlings too, like you and your next door neighbor who looks like otherwise. And because men are human beings, they too have feelings of insecurity, inferiority, envy, love, the need for attention and affection and everything else that women feel sans the histrionics and the theatrics.

Men are an insecure lot too. But unlike women, it’s not usually because of competition. Men need to feel that they have a chance with us.

A woman has this tendency to look intimidating and uninterested even when she’s ready to take off her clothes for that uber-hot man across the hall. Men who depend on more obvious reactions and body language take this as a sign that we are not interested. So, if you see someone you like, make an eye contact, smile, and look away if you can’t hold the stare! If you’re not interested, just walk away. If you are then look his way again and smile again. If he likes you, he’ll most likely approach you in the next few minutes. If he’s not, then look around for another hot guy.

If a man sees you and becomes interested in you, he checks out the field. When he sees that you don’t seem to be in-a-relationship, he observes you and tries to catch your eye. If he gets the feeling that you’re trying to turn him into a toad, he will walk away. While men know and like the challenge of pursuing women who tend to play hard to get, being hard to get is totally a different matter. I know, ladies, we tend to project this maldita look when we are in a new environment with strangers but if you want to get hooked up with someone, practice getting rid of that look in front of the mirror. God knows how long we stand before that wonderful invention where we can look at ourselves for hours and hours, so try making REALLY good use of it by practicing a more relaxed and friendly look. If the guy’s not into you, at least you’ll have him for a friend.

If you’re in a relationship, let the guy know that you appreciate the things he does. You don’t have to treat him like a dog-in-potty-training by telling him how great he is all the time. Thanking him for being patient with you while you were shopping for that ever elusive perfect pair of shoes and treat him to a foot massage if you can. Trust me ladies, this is something that he will truly appreciate even if he won’t really show it.

If you’re in a more intimate relationship and you try to physically please one another, a subtle way of showing him what pleases you and showing him just how much it pleases you works wonders for your man.

Seeing Him as the Guy that He Will Be in the Future, Given the CHANCE!
I used to date a guy who is an alcoholic in denial. He was also something else. In time, I’ll probably be able to disclose what “something else” really is. But I continued to go out (and in) with him because in the deepest crevices of my being, I strongly believed that when the right time comes, he will be a better person.

Familiar? I’m sure it is.

I have friends who continued to date married men, drug dependents, nymphos, men with wild political ambitions, gamblers, indolent men who couldn’t keep a job because the boss “picks on them” all the time, sadists, porn addicts, woman-beater, unmarried father of over five kids by over five different mothers, sexually incapacitated and inept men and a whole lot more. My friends believed these men would eventually change and when they do, things will work out just fine. After all, in their (few!) sober moments, they are really sweet and loving and caring and all that bull. Oh, and they always apologize after every storm that come into their relationships.

One of my friends brought to the world a beautiful child by a man who is very-much married with three kids and who used up all the money that her parents gave her only to leave her 3-4 months before she gave birth never to surface ever again. And my friend? She continued to “believe” that something good will come up once the guy recovers from his financial problems and gets an annulment with his present wife. And that is after over a year of ineffective communication with the guy who promises to “be there soon” and whatever else. She continues to tell us that they’re ok and that things really will get better. That is despite the guy who has a high position in the police force, not providing for her and for the kid. Buying formula milk is hell for my friend. She had to sell all the things that she was able to accumulate all these years.

The funny thing is, she always finds a way to justify her boyfriend’s shortcomings. Most of my friends who are in seemingly unpleasant relationships because of unpleasant men, almost always find excuses for their partners.

If you are on the outside looking in, you’d know there’s a problem. What is it? People, especially us Filipinos, are gamblers. We believe that sooner or later we’ll get lucky. That one of these days people will become better people. We don’t base our decisions on what is there before us but on what we don’t see yet. 

He’s very smart! (So he continuously taunts you for mispronouncing some words!)

He takes me for who I am! (He calls you a slut for talking to another guy then makes up for it by a good time in bed.)

He’s the only one who truly understands me! (He tells you you’re so stupid for falling for some salesman’s pitch.)

He’s great in bed! (But he hits you pretty hard when you fight.)

He’s a good listener! (But he doesn’t really give a shit about what you say.)

He takes care of me! (He gives you money to compensate for his faults!)

He cares for my family!  (He sweet-talks your mom so she won’t notice that you have bruises in your arm!)

There comes a time when we realize that these people will never change but we hang on to them because of the reasons above. We think that going through so much pain and suffering makes every relationship stronger and that because we have gone through so much with our partners, we’ll be stronger in the long run.

WRONG!

Loving is never painful. To love is to suffer every now and then but it does not mean being beaten to a bloody pulp. It does not mean being neglected and being verbally abused. If a guy truly loves you, he will never make your life a living hell.

Never.

It has been said a million times before and I’ll say it again—if a guy loves you, nothing can keep him away. But if he doesn’t he’ll always have an excuse not to be around.

Being an Easy Prey, Come Hither Milord, Bite Me!
While my previous tra-la-la recommends not being hard to get, it doesn’t mean that you have to offer yourself to the first guy that you find attractive. Men are by nature predatory and regardless of how many books and articles write about this, women just don’t seem to get it. Men like to hunt. And no hunter wants a prey who doesn’t need to be chased. Well, unless for lamers who can’t catch a prey anyway. And you don’t want to be stuck with someone who’s a loser in the field. No offense meant to losers out there but really, if a guy wants an easy lay, that’s fine. But if you’re looking for someone who will want you the morning after and the 20 mornings after, don’t give your all to him the first time your eyes meet his.
Guys somehow have an idea on what to do with a woman he likes—or so he thinks. A little novelty helps. Routines are never good for men. I’m not saying you have to break a comfortable routine every week or so but a little surprise here and there keeps your guy interested.

Men are by nature curious. They want to know everything about something—or someone. And if they see that there’s still something about you that they don’t know about, they linger, and remain interested. So girl, keep the mystery veil on. Give him bits and pieces every now and then but don’t tell him everything.

I don’t want to generalize but let’s put it this way. Men—especially those between 17 to 49—have an attention span of 5-year-olds. For you to catch their attention, you have to offer something better than a fried chicken leg within that time span. I’m not saying men are dumba**es, well, some of them are, but if it’s something as mundane as something that you already discussed the previous day where he already gave you his take, then don’t be surprised if he all of a sudden hums to himself. If you want a guy to be interested in you for the longest time, do not stop nurturing your own self. It’s not just for the guy. It’s for you. A man likes a woman who feels good about herself, feels confident about herself and finds success in the small and big things that she does. And when you’re happy about yourself because you continuously reinvent yourself and break barriers, your guy will like having you around for a looooong time.

Carrie broke this rule in Sex in the City when she tumbled into bed with Big on their first date—yes, I know, that was absofu**inlutely kilig—but don’t ever break it. Big and Carrie never made it. And more often than not, couples who hit the bed together on their first date will most likely not make it to next date or next decade. Really, while sexual revolution tells you it’s all right to have casual sex anytime you like, I tell you, if you want to have a real relationship other than something purely sexual, play baseball without Babe Ruth. It’s better to just go by the bases—first base, second base, and so on. While homerun gets the fans jumping up and down their seats, it’s the not same for relationships.

I’m not saying you hold everything in! But at least try to bid your time. Sexual tension makes us giddy and liking someone who seems to like us back makes it giddier but give it time. If it eases up in the morning, it’s not really there. If it’s stil there the next time you go out with him, it might really be there but you can never be too sure. The next base isn’t so far away anyway. Besides, if it gets to strike three and you’re still in the first base, wouldn’t you feel great that you never made it to the next base much less a homerun?

You Complete Me
This worked for Renee Zellwegger in Jerry Maguire and when a guy tells you that, it sure would make your heart melt and your knees into jelly but STOP! You should also hear the warning bells!

This has been one of my greatest guiding rule in every relationship. Whether it has led to broken relationships or burned bridges or broken down walls, I believe this is something that every woman—and man—consider. Ask Momma Oprah. She’ll agree with me. Let me shatter one of the greatest myths of all time.

NO ONE COMPLETES YOU BUT YOURSELF.

Settle your own issues before getting into a relationship. If you come from a broken family or if you have a bastard for a dad, work these issues within yourself first and make yourself whole. If you just came from a really bad relationship, get over it first and remember that the next guy is not the same as your ex-boyfriend or husband. Even identican twins differ. So do not generalize.

Damsels in distress, while sometimes appealing to men who have knights-in-shining-armor issues, are not in fad. Really girls, whiny whiny females are nothing but whiny whiny females. Men—and women—hate them! So drop the act and be true to yourself. If you get into a relationship just so someone can make you happy, whole, financially-stable or whatever reasons other than wanting to be in that relationship, then steer clear of it until you fix that crazy mind of yours. While sympathy can get you somewhere with men, it won’t last long. Men’s saturation points are quite shorter than women’s so see a shrink if you must, although that’s not really something very “in” in our country. Well, the next best thing to a shrink is your friends. Pick one, or two. No one understands women better than other women. Hell, only other women would understand why you can’t have enough black shoes, and shoes of other colors and shapes for that matter!

I have news for you. There are men—and women—who seem like they can coddle and nurture your “small issues” and make you whole but when it gets too broken-recordish, they will also disappear and trust me, it will just make your small issues really huge.

Don’t get me wrong. Men, whether he loves or simply likes you, can be really caring and protective of you. Men are not stupid. If they feel like you could use some help, they’ll be there even before you know it. But to make it the main agendum in your quest for a partner—eeeeenk—wrong move.

Pablo Neruda’s Sonnet XVII (100 Love Sonnets, 1960)

This is perhaps the most loved Pablo Neruda poem.  If some guy would read and offer these lines to me, I would definitely melt.

I don’t love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as certain dark things are loved,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom and carries
hidden within itself the light of those flowers,
and thanks to your love, darkly in my body
lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don’t know any other way of loving

but this, in which there is no I or you,
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.

One Gift at a Time

Bellydancing Anyone–at 2AM?

People who know me would never associate the word SHY with me.  Never.  Unbeknownst to the whole wide world, I am.  That is why I prefer staying at home and lurking in my room when we have guests in the house, which is rare, thank God!  But when I’m (t)asked to do something that involves organizing people, party or leading the carpenters and plumbers, I deliver.  Close my eyes for a bit, take a deep breath and plunge in.  But that’s all there is to it.  I’m more flirty and teasing when I’m online or when I’m writing, etc.  But never in front of people I barely know–unless I’m with friends and feelin’ a little cheeky.  A few glasses of Black Russian or Gin Tonic or good old whisky would probably do the trick. 

And so, I bellydance when everyone is asleep.  I roll for-chill shirt up for a makeshift choli.  Take off my slippers. Put on my bellydance video for the day. Do my warm-up routine.  And then shimmy! 

I’m in a hurry to lose weight!  Really!  All my life I thought I was fat.  Everybody in grade school said so.  That was because I developed my curves (ok, you can roll your eyes!) pretty early.   I am an early bloomer.  It wasn’t until I developed polycystic ovaries in college that the scales tipped in favor of more pounds.  By then, I was used to being told I was fat.  So I never did anything because I never thought I really was! 

I always jokingly blame my mom for it.  Because when people started to tell me I was putting in more pounds, she used to say, oh, you look just great–apparently, most mothers say that even to their ugliest kids, not because they’re pathological liars but because in the eyes of mothers, their spawn always look great–well, for most mothers, that is.  And when she finally said, Oi, day, murag midako na gyud ka–it was already too late. 

That was around 7-8 years ago.  I lost and gained weight between then and now.  On my 26th birthday, I got the biggest scary surprise of my life.  You see, I almost never weigh myself.  People, you should!  Buy a bathroom scale so you can monitor your weight every day.  And so when I weighed my voluptuous heap on my birthday, I cried.  I was a few pounds shy of 200lbs.  I never knew I was THAT FAT!  You see, despite being on the heavy side, I don’t sag.  My huge face doesn’t help but my body is not oak-barrel-shaped.  I can say it is still a Coca-Cola body–litro lang.  But I was really scared that day.  Since then,  I vowed to seriously lose weight. 

I’m an emotional eater–I eat when I’m happy, sad, depressed and angry. 

I never liked going to the gym–why?  I felt like a hippo in the midst of gazelles, ok, beefed up wildebeest.  LOL.  When I was in UP, I brisk-walked–never jogged because my breasts weigh a ton!– around the Acad Oval every night and went to the gym thrice a week.  My calves, biceps and triceps had their 15-minute fame then.  But when I was on my thesis months, it was all research, cigarettes, regular munchies, coffee and all that.  And so whatever I lost over the past year, I gained in just a few weeks. 

Then I moved to Pagadian City to help out in my uncle’s law office cum board member’s office.  I was losing weight.  And then I taught in a local college there.  I was looking great.  Then came the move to Cebu.  I went from medium to extra large then to double extra large.  I worked in the corporate world in a very sedentary position where nightcaps/morningcaps meant coffee at Starbucks or meals at Vienna Kaffehaus or East West.  Weekends meant all-day and all-night in bed.  My love affair with ukay-ukay blossomed–I couldn’t find huge sizes in the department stores and I didn’t want to wear men’s clothes!  And the rest is history.

I got out of a life-draining-over-five-year relationship in March.  It has taken me forever to get over it–I still am.  I told you I eat when I’m depressed.  So instead of losing more pounds on my 27th birthday, I only weighed 30lbs lighter than the previous birthday.  But I was already slowly getting back on my feet then. 

Now, I’m back to bellydancing.  It’s amazing how something so easy could help burn fat fast.  A few minutes into the warm up makes me sweat like a pig already.  But one good thing about bellydancing is that it gives you that feel-good-about-yourself air.  It gave me back my self-esteem and pride.  Bellydancing reintroduces your body to you, section by section, and as Carmen Electra said in her Aerobic Striptease video, vertebrae by vertebrae.  Bellydancing makes you feel sexier and more sensual.  But looking sexier and more sensual isn’t bad. 

I also do striptease.  I plan to get into pole dancing when I hit my ideal weight.  For now, it’s bellydance and striptease for me.  There’s a lot of videos out there that are really helpful.  Mind you, don’t get those instructional videos by Filipino sexy stars.  They are not helpful at all, unless you have a dancing background, otherwise, you’ll get lost.  Most of these pseudo-dance instructors forget that they’re supposed to teach you the steps and not show you their heaving bosoms!  I’m not into female bosoms!  Now if it’s a guy, I wouldn’t have minded.  Now, that’s a thought.  I wonder when a male bellydance instructor would surface and come up with an instructional video.  I swear I’ll lose more than 10lbs overnight! LOL.  Seriously, I recommend the bellydance workout series by the Bidasha twins–Veena and Neena (Hi, I’m Neena and I’m Veena, welcome to Beyond Basic Bellydance. LOL).  And for aerobic striptease, grab Carmen Electra’s set.  Although I don’t really find discs 3 (advanced aerobic striptease–it only teaches two very short routines that could have been integrated into disc 1, the librarian striptease and the girl wearing a man’s shirt and tie) and 4 (the lapdance) that helpful as workout vids but well, they do help you learn a few steps that you can use somewhere else. *wink*

So grab those hip scarves and do hip isolations with me.  Aww right! 

Hello, Bayantel

Got myself a new DSL provider–Bayantel because for the past few weeks, SmartBro has sucked big time.  I’m not even sure if it’s because of my location (i’m just a poor girl living in a place surrounded by tall buildings) because the SmartBro tech people just tells me their connection is ok and all that bull.  Try calling their customer support hotline and ask about WiFly, they can’t even tell you straight what that is.  I had to educate not just one but FOUR customer support reps what their product is! Jeez!  So I gave up.  Well, not entirely.  I’m using SmartBro as my backup connection.  So now I’m just waiting for two things to come: 1) my dual wan router 2) uninterrupted and fast internet connection –an affirmation that I made the right choice.  Oh, and my phone adapter for my unlimited inbound and outbound calls to the US.  Skype will still be one of my best friends but free is free! 

Don’t bet on Bayantel’s customer support either.  I called their Manila hotline before to inquire if they cover Ozamiz.  The babe on the other line asked me where the f*ck is Ozamiz City.  And so I bitched and told her where my new home is–I was so tempted to give her the coordinates! And she didn’t know where Misamis Occidental is!!!  Gov. Leo, help!  And so I told her to get a map and hung up.  Then I called again.  This time another babe took my call.  She knows Ozamiz City.  But she doesn’t know if they cover the area! Waaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!  And so, I looked for Bayantel on the directory–I should have done that first, stupid moi.  And voila–they’re in Ozamiz!  But the operations manager was the one who took my call coz the sales officer was out.  Whoa!  And so I asked for their rates, speed, packages, etc. Just to get an idea.  And they offer a rather cheap VoIP service as well!  Great.  And so I left my number coz he said he’ll let his sales officer call me.  And call she did.  After two hours, I was signed up and in less than a week, I now have my connection.  Yey!  I hope I won’t have any technical issues that I can’t handle because with the way their tech guys talked to me, they can’t even differentiate the default gateway from IP address.  THAT scared me!  So I hope I won’t have to call for tech support.  Sigh. 

Tap your heels for me for good luck!

A little under 10 minutes later…

Itaktak Mo…

I saw that YouTube clip on Wilyonaryo’s supposed glitch the very same day that it hit the online galaxy where I belong, the very same day that it happened.  If you don’t know any better, you would just think that it was indeed just an honest mistake.  But if you come from my world where the trusting and the ambivalent die first, you’d wonder what went on there.   I have read the comments and people were indeed outraged. 

Then came Willie’s tearful (or less) tirade against Joey de Leon as if the latter was the first to ever comment and start the fire!  (Be warned: I’m a loyal Joey de Leon fan.  He’s the man!  He talks crap the way crap is supposed to be talked about.  Hehe.  But really.  The man’s a genius.  And I love the way he picked a fight with Cristy Fermin, man, that was pure delish!) When news about his lashing out at Joey hit the press,  I tried to check what drove Willie Revillame to go “crying” and maligning Joey de Leon on worldwide TV.

The object of Willie’s ire?  Joey’s column in Manila Bulletin.  If the link doesn’t work, here’s the controversial article:

“A little more than a week ago, I read somewhere in this paper that someone in the Kapamilya network remarked that, “Ang kapamilya hindi napapalitan, pero ang puso pwedeng i-transplant,”—obviously referring to the well-publicized and quite controversial transfer of a former known kapuso to their side.

“Well, maybe I thought, they even got an ovation for that statement from their audience and followers. And maybe too, the person who thought of it found the idea cute and brilliant. Hmmm… but you know, throughout history, there have been lines spoken, and even by the greatest of men, which when carefully examined closely, are silly and untrue.

“Take for instance—”You can’t have your cake and eat it, too.” And, “the best things in life are free.” Not quite true, right? ‘Yung first one pwede siguro if you’re a big star in television and you have a lot of what you call in the business—exchange deals.

“Or you’re a young goddess of a woman and you have a filthy rich provider who is like a faucet—hot and cold. But all these have a “kapalit,” kaya nga exchange deal eh. In the first one, the big star will have to plug always. And in the second one, the sexy goddess will always be plugged.

“Transferring networks, or even working for some of these TV stations at the same time (”grossing the net”or “inter-networking”) is not new to me. Remember, I belong to the only daily show in Philippine TV history, or maybe the world, which have aired in three different major networks; surviving and outlasting five presidents… and still counting! Yes, we are the KONTOT (Kings Of Network Transfers On Television)! We are the Transfermers!

“That is why this issue about this angel from heaven, I mean seven, who transferred to you know where, is the least of anxieties. I really just find their statement so untrue and unfair, and I feel I need to react (and besides, wala akong article for this week). O, eto na—tatagalugin ko na para mas may dating at may diin. At saka tutal Tagalog din naman ‘yung binitiwang mga salita eh. Ready?

“Maganda lang siguro pakinggan ‘yung mga sinabi n’yo, pero ikinalulungkot ko, mali eh. Para bang isang babaeng nagparetoke-mukha lang maganda, pero hindi totoo.

“Una, pwede bang magharap kayo sa akin ng tao na nagpa-transplant ng puso na nagtagal ang buhay?! Pwede talaga, pero pwede bang magtagal?

“Pangalawa, lalo na sa panahon ngayon, ang daling magpalit ng pamilya ng mga tao. ‘Yung iba nga may pamilya dito, may pamilya duon eh. Sa showbiz na lang—ilan sa inyo at sa atin ang nagpalit na ng pamilya?

“Sa totoo lang, ito ang mas tumpak—ang puso natin ay mahirap palitan, pero ang pamilya pwede—at pwede pang dagdagan.

“At eto pa ang isang dumadagundong na katotohanan—pwede tayong mabuhay nang walang pamilya, pero hindi tayo pwedeng mabuhay ng walang puso.

“Alam nyo, may art din ‘yung pagsundot at patama. But naturally, all these are “tuksuhan lang.” Tayong lahat ay may mga pinagsamahan. Magkikita at maaring magkasama rin tayo balang araw. Kaya, walang pikunan. Paliwanagan lang. Biruan lang. Teasing is not bad. Cheating is… on TV!”
I can’t help it.  I loooove the guy’s acerbic wit.  If there’s one major turn-on for me, that’s that! He’s downright opinionated, intrigero and really naughty–why, he’s like a tyke with a bandit’s catch-me-if-you-can air.  But one thing that Joey and I share is that fierce loyalty.  Yes, he has transferred from one station to another but that is purely because he goes where TAPE takes its pack and of course, there were unpatchable differences–like ABS-CBN wanting to buy the rights of Eat Bulaga from TAPE and the sequestration of RPN then. If he’s so palaaway, how come he never had a really bad case in court, well, the allegation of rape of Pepsi Paloma that paved the way for the late Rene Cayetano’s fame was a close call, but that was purely hyped up.  And Willie had the audacity to bring up that issue notwithstanding the possible effect of that issue to the children who look up to Joey, not to mention the his grandkids.  The guy has cleaned up his act.  If he does anything naughty, it’s all for laughs.  If he’s so pasaway, why does a network as big as GMA, that has never tolerated felons, give him more than 5 shows making him visible 7 days a week?  And it’s not just one TV network!  There’s also ABC. 

Going back to the article, there’s nothing there that blatantly pointed an accusing finger to Willie Revillame.   As Joey aptly said, bato-bato sa langit ang tamaan wag magalit.  And pikon Willie is the loser here.  Joey was doing what he does best, counter-punch.  Loyal to his network that he is, he defended it and ended his article with an inside joke.  Those who get it would just laugh.  Those who don’t would just ignore it.  But those who may be guilty would use their shows to talkback.

Willie opened a can of worms, and who gets burned?  Definitely, not Joey although the mudslinging done by Willie that fateful day may just be the cause for his another trip to the courthouse.  He maligned Joey de Leon in public.  What he did was slanderous and a downright oral defamation in worldwide TV documented by video clips everywhere, for crying out loud. So what if Joey makes side comments and writes articles like that?  He’s an entertainment columnist, showbiz-oriented talk show host and  rival variety show mainstay.  He has all the right to say as he pleases so long as he doesn’t cross the line, because he gets paid for it.  And he’s not plastik.  He doesn’t say he idolizes this person and that as a way of making sipsip.   Willie should have ignored the article and the alleged side comments but he chose to make himself the center of attention, and now, pity. Come on, boy, grow up!

After all the brouhaha, Willie apologizes?  After all that he did?  And for what?  Because he’s tired and stressed out?  Well, he brags that he hosts a daily show on his own (which makes me wonder what he calls his co-hosts if they’re not “hosts”) so that’s probably it.  But is he sorry for real?  Did he mean what he said?  Coz I didn’t hear him apologize directly. 

Moral of the story, read and understand what you read.  But I guess the best thing that happened here is that the supposed glitch is now being closely watched and investigated. 

Lolit Solis was right in telling Joey not to make peace with Willie.  Why?  So the main issue will just die down?  The notorious design flaw? I don’t buy it! Don’t underestimate the masses.  Don’t twist our minds with your excuses.  Just because the poor see a glimmer of hope in watching and in participating shows like Wowowee and Wilyonaryo, specifically, does not mean the poor can be easily conned.  Cory Vidanes was right.  All games shows experience technical glitches. But that is exactly the main reason why a new game show, segment or portion, or even any prop for that matter, should be tested.  It should have a million and one dry runs to ensure that it doesn’t go kablam when it goes on air.  Besides, what was so complicated about using that box?!  It was a manual procedure that didn’t need to use anything fancy!  Does that mean they never tested it before launching it? Does that mean they never briefed Willie on how to use it? Don’t tell me, Willie didn’t understand how it was supposed to work?! Like he didn’t know how to properly pull the film?  Oh come on! Gimme a break. If i were to believe these people, i’d say they are so irresponsible.  

Don’t divert the people’s attention to Joey de leon.  Joey de Leon is Joey de Leon. He wouldn’t stay in the biz for over 4 decades kung wala sya’y K. And for those who say Joey is laos because he is insecure of Willie, think.  If having over 5 shows in one network and a few other in other networks, and a column in a paper with nationwide circulation, make one laos, then laos is great.  

Without Eat Bulaga, Joey de Leon will still be around because he’s got the skills and the talent–ask Ariel and Maverick. Without Joey, Eat Bulaga will still be around but it won’t be the same.  But where will Willie find himself if Wowowee is axed?  I’m sure Wowowee will survive without its Pappy.  But what will Willie do now that he’s used to playing “solo”?  I don’t think he’ll like playing side kick to the big stars anew.

My X Company–in Memoriam

While doing my routine for the day, I got an e-mail from someone who uses the name of my most-esteemed hero, Andres Bonifacio, highlighting the alleged irregularities of a certain Canadian-owned, US-headquartered, Cebu-based publishing services provider. 

I am not one to dwell on anything negative–yep, that’s my mantra so if you’ll be seeing that hereabouts more often, don’t say I didn’t warn you.  I have had my share of really painful memories while working in my former company but the thing is, we were given choices, to leave and be free from all the migraine-inducing chaos, or to stay and bear what the hazards of earning an average of fifty grand (err, in pesos) MONTHLY there are.  I chose to leave.  It wasn’t an easy decision to make but I had to do it because it was a matter of principle.  I turned a deaf ear on the office politics and the in-house grapevine because I didn’t want those to get in the way of my work.  But people can be really vicious.  I think I have gotten used to that now.  And so I left.  I suffered financially and emotionally because of it.  For months!  And the rumors didn’t help.  Wolves in friends’ clothing devoured me like there’s no tomorrow.  But what I suffered in silence while I was in the company was far worse so I continued to keep mum.  People who knew me then would never believe I kept mum. 

But hey, two years after, I’m still here and I’m happier so I guess I made the right choice.  There are times when I still wish I was still there.  Because for someone who has become so disillusioned with the corporate world, I still genuinely believe in my former CEO’s vision.  True there were err–not-so-regular breach of protocols but I’m in no position to really judge anything that I’m not privy to.  If this happened 6-10 years ago, I would have been in the streets with my comrades.  But you come to a certain point in your life when you just want to be selfish for a while.  After all, you deserve it–I deserve it. 

I feel for my former colleagues.  I feel for those whose career paths have been largely realigned.  I feel for those who got hospitalized because of the depression that movements in the company caused them but I will never ever malign people who have been once a huge part of my life–not even if they malign me first.  I’m not exactly a devout Catholic so yeah, I believe in cosmic justice.  In time, I too, will have my sweet retribution.  In the meantime, I will just sleep.

In the Name of Bigotry

The long awaited resignation of Malu Fernandez has finally ended when the self-proclaimed diva stepped down from her high chair.  With so many blogs talking about it, I have decided to just read this blog because it contains all the salient points in this matter.  But I’m sure she’ll be back in a day or two. 

While I do not find her articles funny, I think he who sinneth not should cast the first stone.  We are all guilty of bitching about other people in one way or another because we are born that way.  Not perhaps as openly as Malu did but all the same, we engaged in the same bigotry that we crusaded against at some point in our lives.  

But with all that done and over with, I think we should just move on.  There’s no use dwelling on anything negative for so long.  It consumes you.  And while the blogosphere’s move to literally remove her from where she was connected has succeeded, there’s no reason to celebrate.  Why?  Because the facts remain.  In our rage against some people’s insensitivity, we have become insensitive and cruel.  And because Malu Fernandez has never been truly repentant.  For her to let up only to leave a subtle retort is not helping.  Yes we can definitely wage wars against anything oppressive the way the government is using up all the yet-to-be-earned cash to spend on an all-out war against alleged terrorists, but is it really worth our time and energy?

 Oh well…

Where I Belong

I was born to be a GMA fan. 

When I was a toddler, we didn’t have a TV set and so I grew up listening to those after-dinner drama over the radio.  Yep, we huddled over the radio just to listen to those heart-pounding thrillers and tearjerkers. 

A major turning point in my life was when one of my father’s sinunod sa kasal rented our kamalig and later on bought a part of our lot and built a house there.  TV then became a part of my life.  My sisters and I would then go to our new neighbor’s place and watch TV, not with our not-so-pretty noses pressed against the window pane but in their living room!!! Talk about being jologs.  Hehehe.  I’m a certified jologs, everyone!  My father always told us that we were poor in the hopes that we would never want anything that we didn’t really need and I guess that has instilled the values of money and gratitude in us.  And having been consistent with that, he never bought a TV set.  But because he allowed us to go to our neighbor’s place, I became die-hard That’s Entertainment, Mother Studio Presents, Regal Shocker, Probe Team and what-have-you fan.  Well, blame it on having two older sisters (I was five, they were then 17 and 21–you get the picture) who were into uberteenybopper stuff.  God, now that I think about it!  Ugh! 

When we finally got our black and white TV set (huhuhu!) way back 1988, we practically treated GMA like CNN–well, there was no cable TV in Molave then, duh!  So then I relished in Beauty and the Beast (the poetry! and the love story, unforgettable), 21 Jump Street (that TV series where Johnny Depp was a mainstay prior to his phenomenal portrayal as Edward Scissorhands–yes, Johnny and I already knew each other way before he became reeaaalllly famous! He was in A Nightmare on Elm Street but who remembers anybody else there when Englund whose portrayal of Freddy Krueger was unparalleled.), Miami Vice, Mission Impossible (yeah, baby, this is pre-Tom Cruise!!!), and the walang kamatayang Vilma!  Hehe.  Late night viewing meant Regal Shocker, Mother Studio Presents, Probe Team and those awesome TV reportage by the legends. And of course, what perhaps helped swayed Papa’s mind, there was FPJ sa GMA. LOL.

I got to watch Eat Bulaga, then in RPN (or was it IBC?) then in ABS-CBN because my father and I used to eat lunch at my uncle’s place where they were avid Eat Bulaga fans.  I can still remember the show’s perpetual plugs of Dakak.  Then they moved to GMA.  And my evening viewing list added Okay Ka Fairy Ko in.  And yes, I was never allowed to watch TV on schoolnights but I managed to “get a glass of water” and other things that took me to where I could view the TV set without being too obvious. 

With the advent of cable television, we succumbed to the changes but for some reason, my heart remained with GMA.  Yes, there were times when I would switch to ABS-CBN every now and then–my course in college taught me to be channel surf to see the various facets of TV programming and all that jazz.  My TV life now includes HBO TV series like the Sex and the City, Sopranos, Rome and many others.  Then came the CSI trio, Prison Break, Law and Order, Grey’s Anatomy, Desperate Housewives and a whole lot more, including reality TV shows.  LOL.  I’m no couch potato but I “watch” TV while doing my stuff on my laptop or even while sleeping. 

But all throughout my heart remained with GMA.  And I don’t even have to watch TV to remain faithful.  Every now and then I watch ABS-CBN because I don’t like not knowing what some people talk about in small talks, etc.  But never for long.  That’s what flashback/return/recall buttons are for. 

I have worked with people who come from GMA in the course of my college life, and people who have worked in ABS-CBN, and other local networks.  The glow is totally different–not to mention most of them are really nice.  Of course, Maam Cheche Lazaro is something else.  She’s of a dying breed. 

Perhaps when you’re loyal to something you get really biased about it but most of the time, I do try to be objective–like when Probe Team moved out of GMA except Bernadette Sembrano’s disgusting Saksi walkout, when Karen Davila who polished her investigative journalism nails in Brigada Siete crossed over followed by her then boyfriend DJ Sta. Ana who, only a few days back, helped Maki Pulido cover the emotional stepping down of Pres. Estrada.  But much as I tried, I really couldn’t understand Angel Locsin.  What she did is unforgiveable and unacceptable. I won’t even begin to comment on that ingrate. 

While GMA is taking the ratings game by the balls, I can still say that No.1 or not, I’m still a fan.  Not only because GMA refuses to let the masses believe and see formula programming that has been around for as long as my grandparents can remember because it sells.  Not only because the network continues to take innovative steps regardless of whether the viewing public accept them right away.  Not because GMA has chosen to devote more time in coming up with better programming rather than expanding worldwide.  But because in doing what it has been doing all these years, GMA has helped upgrade the mentality of those watching at home.  And for me, that’s the most important.  If there’s one person who truly embodies the thrust of GMA, that’s Michael V.  Look at the man.  He’s successful–career- and family-wise.  He’s funny.  He’s smart.  He’s talented.  He thinks out of the box and he continues to explore unchartered areas in the entertainment industry.  And that is why he stays with the network that shares his advocacy to service to the Filipino people to a higher level. 

And that is why I do too.

30 Hours and Counting…

I’ve been up for over 30 hours now.  I did take a nap–err–a 15-minute one.  Now I feel like I want to crash. 

I’m used to staying up for hours, even days.  But today’s different.  I had to finish a project that I never really want to do but it’s already paid for and greedy me didn’t want to return the money to the client. 

I am bound by nondisclosure agreements and even if the line between the validity and not of online contracts is a tad too thin, I don’t want to cross it.  Therefore, I have to stay mum while my principles are once again  being trampled upon over and over again, and mocked at by the waves that crash against the nearby shore.  It makes me think of John Regala in one of those low-budgeted flicks.  Think, rape scene with him practically salivating over his victim like the dog in Pavlov’s experiment.  LOL.  Talk about a girl’s wild fantasies!  LOL.  But no, on a more serious note, I really feel like I’ve been had but I didn’t want to say no even after I realized that I’ve been used to peddle wares that are not so clean after all.  But as a writer–a paid freelance writer at that–I make my own choices, and to become an effective and, well, better-paid content provider, I have to detach myself from my work lest I get drowned by my own ideology, ideals and idiosyncrasies.  I lost my conscience a long time ago but every now and then, I feel an iota of integrity swell up inside me.  Or maybe it’s just months of total (sexual?) inactivity.  Hmmm? 

Always read the fine print–or so I always tell myself.  But I still fall prey to unscrupulous buyers and clients.  And a Filipino client at that!  Jeez.  But I finished it all and he said he was satisfied with my work.  Sated? Tsk.

Off to bed.

Round and Round

Gikapoy na ko. 

Kapoy sige’g tuyok-tuyok nga wa ko kabalo asa ko padulong. 

Daw kasing.  Maypang kasing, muhunong rag iya and then it’s over.  Hangtud naa na poy ganahan magpatuyok-tuyok niya. 

Pero ang tawo, maski di patuyok-tuyukon, on its own accord, magpatuyok-tuyok pod. 

Nganong murag gipanganak man tang may pagka-masokista? 

O basin ako lang? 

So why am I blogging now?  Not that I haven’t but I never really thought of it as something that I would actually do.  Ugh!  Am I confusing you?  Don’t worry, it’s you and me on that train, sweetie.  LOL.  I’m not high, I just woke up so I really don’t make sense when it’s THAT time of the day, regardless of what time that is.  I think I should stop.  I’m really not making sense.  Hehe. 

Jun Anteola the master behind http://junanteola.wordpress.com shot me an e-mail because I left a comment in his blog about me stalking him.  LOL.  I was just checking my mail, out of pure habit, when I chanced upon his message.  And it woke me up.  Hehe.  I rarely get hello-emails so I smiled big time.  Now my still-sleepy self has finally caught up with my adrenaline and overpowered everything else.  But I have to really wake up and finish that rewrite that my client needs NOW.  So I’ll talk about Jun and blogging and the whole new world in a bit. 

At Home at Home–NOT!

And so after almost five years in Cebu, I have come ”home” to Ozamiz but not quite.  You see, I’m not a native of this place and while my parents call it home now, I still feel like a stranger, an outsider, a sore thumb–a very sore thumb!

Since I arrived in the first week of May, I have only gone out of the house less than 10 times.  Uh-huh.  While I’m a homebody by choice, I can’t help but feel lonely somehow.  Oh yeah, I love talking to my mom and bitching at the househelp every now and then, but I do miss my friends.  I don’t have friends here, poor me. 

So please, befriend me, flirt with me, make love to me, have coffee with me, I beg of you.  LOL.  Seriously!

Closing Cycles by Paulo Coelho

Paulo Coehlo’s Closing Cycles has been overused in blogs and e-mails but this is something personal for me–having gone through something like it myself. So please indulge me.

One always has to know when a stage comes to an end. If we insist on staying longer than the necessary time, we lose the happiness and the meaning of the other stages we have to go through. Closing cycles, shutting doors, ending chapters – whatever name we give it, what matters is to leave in the past the moments of life that have finished.

Did you lose your job? Has a loving relationship come to an end? Did you leave your parents’ house? Gone to live abroad? Has a long-lasting friendship ended all of a sudden? You can spend a long time wondering why this has happened. You can tell yourself you won’t take another step until you find out why certain things that were so important and so solid in your life have turned into dust, just like that. But such an attitude will be awfully stressing for everyone involved: your parents, your husband or wife, your friends, your children, your sister, everyone will be finishing chapters, turning over new leaves, getting on with life, and they will all feel bad seeing you at a standstill.

None of us can be in the present and the past at the same time, not even when we try to understand the things that happen to us. What has passed will not return: we cannot for ever be children, late adolescents, sons that feel guilt or rancor towards our parents, lovers who day and night relive an affair with someone who has gone away and has not the least intention of coming back. Things pass, and the best we can do is to let them really go away.

That is why it is so important (however painful it may be!) to destroy souvenirs, move, give lots of things away to orphanages, sell or donate the books you have at home. Everything in this visible world is a manifestation of the invisible world, of what is going on in our hearts – and getting rid of certain memories also means making some room for other memories to take their place. Let things go. Release them. Detach yourself from them. Nobody plays this life with marked cards, so sometimes we win and sometimes we lose. Do not expect anything in return, do not expect your efforts to be appreciated, your genius to be discovered, your love to be understood. Stop turning on your emotional television to watch the same program over and over again, the one that shows how much you suffered from a certain loss: that is only poisoning you, nothing else.

Nothing is more dangerous than not accepting love relationships that are broken off, work that is promised but there is no starting date, decisions that are always put off waiting for the “ideal moment.” Before a new chapter is begun, the old one has to be finished: tell yourself that what has passed will never come back. Remember that there was a time when you could live without that thing or that person – nothing is irreplaceable, a habit is not a need. This may sound so obvious, it may even be difficult, but it is very important.

Closing cycles. Not because of pride, incapacity or arrogance, but simply because that no longer fits your life.

Shut the door, change the record, clean the house, shake off the dust.

Stop being who you were, and change into who you are.

Let’s Get Medical — Part I

When I was a cute, spunky little girl, I wanted to be a doctor.

Well, because my godfather was. And the slightest sign of colds always brought me to the hospital bed–yeah, medicare and the fact that my godfather did own the largest hospital (of three) in our town. My mother miscarried twice after I was born so that makes hospital visits when I was a kid a regular thing. I remember moving about when I got bored, running around the “huge” hospital, going up and down the ramps, watching patients getting rushed inside the DR and OR, staying in the supply room–hey! how was I to know they were supposed to be sterile areas!

So yeah, I liked being around doctors, nurses and I loved the smell of alcohol and cotton and the sight of syringe brought me that uncontrollable rush of joy.

Like most kids, I changed my mind about what I wanted to be when I grow up. I remember one hospital visit when the nurse asked me if it was true that I wanted to be a “journalist-lawyer” (albeit not too backward and small, our town was, well, the type where people know people who know you and what you do can sometimes be the main course at the dining table. hehe). I was in Grade 5 then and my adviser was close to my godmother, who was also a nurse, and most likely my essay went from coffee table to coffee table to the triage. Hehe. But yeah, I discovered the passion for writing and lawyering when I was in Grade 5. You see, my brother was already a barrister then and because he would let me wear his college org’s shirts, I felt like I was one of them.

But that passion was shortlived.

My sister, a nurse, was the guest speaker during my grade school commencement exercise. Again in the hospital, I remember the nurses gushing about how wonderful her speech was and all that. I remember my sister’s use of the adage, prevention is better than cure, as the springboard of her well-written graduation talk. My other sister got married that year and somehow my sister and I gravitated towards one another, us being the only “single” girls left in the family–even if she lived away from home. She was a CI then so trips again to the hospital came in more than threes. Hehe. Come to think of it, I’ve always been tagging along my sister even if I was no longer a toddler.

But “common sense” told me that I was never gonna get into the medical field, and I never wanted to be a nurse. I wanted to be a doctor. My brother brainwashed me into really wanting to be a lawyer. So all my high school life, I thought I wanted to be a lawyer.

Then I had to fill out the application form for UPCAT.

My first choice was, of course, the Diliman campus. When it got to the “course” part, a number of days passed before I finally got to turn in my app–and yeah, we submitted it way past the deadline! Hehe. You see, my cousin was then taking Comparative Literature in UPD. I liked it. Then I saw European Languages. It was something that I really, really, really liked! My brother asked in usual law-is-the-best-field-in-the-world tone, “What do you want to be, an interpreter?!” So, I skipped that with a heavy heart.

INTARMED. I saw that in UP Manila. I wanted to be considered for it. It was a fusion of Pre-Med and Med bundled tightly into a 7-year course. I wanted it badly but we were awfully poor then. I never even bothered to give a hint that I wanted it so much more than the others. I don’t think I would have got into the program anyway but who knows. The thing is, I never even tried.

So I decided to just write Journalism as my first choice. I forgot what my second choice was. Anyway, I passed UPCAT–third in our region and I got a scholarship because of that. My brother again made the remark against my then chosen course. Hehe. He said, so, your peak’s gonna be when you’re a Noli de Castro.

Almost 10 years since I left the hallowed grounds of UP, I’m still trying to look for myself. I’ve become quite happy with my being a freelance writer but the smell of alcohol (hell, not the intoxicating type!) and cotton and gauze permeates the lonely air that I breathe.

I’ve been offered another chance to get into the medical field, as a nurse. Should I or shouldn’t I?

Another Sappy One for Mama

When I was a little girl, I thought my mother spoke the best English, told the best stories, baked the best cake, cooked the yummiest, and hugged the best.

As I have grown older and supposedly wiser, I have noticed that my mom speaks with that thick Cebuano accent, tells the nonsensical stories over and over again, eats the best cake and leaves the crumbs that the ants mirthfully feast over, cooks the same food as last night and so many other things.

When parents get older, they become huge pain in the asses. They become annoying and I can’t blame those kids who couldn’t wait to leave home and be on their own. I know how that feels. I feel that every now and then and I actually went ahead and did just that in the past. And yeah, parents have this tendency to want to monopolize your attention.

But going back to my mother, she’s still my best friend. And in those mornings when I have to pick up after her, and when I feel the urge to scream because she woke me up just to tell me how awful the maid is–I think about the truckloads of things that she did for me that made me the person that I am now.

Yes, I am not perfect but I can’t blame my mom for that. Mothers touch us and kiss us and hug us when we’re little and they count our fingers to make sure that we don’t grow up to be freaks with 13 fingers or just 7–and even if we do, love us anyway. And for that, we become good people. But somewhere along the way, we go astray. And we can’t forever blame our parents for that, especially not our moms. Come on, we grow wiser, we make our own choices–our moms no longer go with us when we buy the pairs of jeans that don’t really look so nice on us.

I love my mom. We laugh a lot when we’re together. We forget our chores when we bump into each other in doorways, hallways, and even in the bathroom! Dinners are always an affair for us–even when there’s just the two of us, well, with my Pop hurling expletives at someone on TV in the background. And when we soak our feet in our makeshift foot spa pails, we talk about the funny stuff that we find on the most mundane of things and events. And when we watch those sappy soap operas, we still share that wad of tissue. Yes, my mom rants and nags big time but for all that she is, I love her and it kills me when people do not treat her well.

I feel bad when I don’t get to treat her that well.

When I get rich, I’ll buy my mom the nice clean house that she has always wanted and give her sole custody of the bandwidth so she can play online crossword puzzles anytime she likes, and hire a very able masseuse so she will have that perfect spa experience at home and make her feel like she’s the queen that she should have been a long time ago. Oh, and pay all the bills so she won’t have to worry about them. And I’ll buy her a shiny red car that’ll take her to places that she has always wanted to be. If I still have time, I’ll take her to Venice so she can ride in one of those gondolas–that has been her lifelong dream.

And when I feel that urge to scream at her and when that ungrateful bone works up, I’ll read this post again so I’ll remember how much I really love her and how much I should love her.

Chronicles of She-Who-Mourns Part 2 (Republished)

May 02, 2007

I can say that I am out of mourning now. Well, at least by an inch.

i am ready to move on. literally. i will leave the city that has borne witness to so many joys and sorrows that my not-so-simple (sorry for the term, even i cringe at the thought of using it) love story. for good.

it’s a closed book. not just a closed chapter. yes, the wound is still gaping open and no amount of suturing can keep the flesh from saying hello to the world. but like any other wound, this too shall heal on its own. and the waiting period begins now.

but i do miss him. big time.

Chronicles of She-Who-Mourns Part 1 (Republished)

April 06, 2007

It’s funny how life can be so recalcitrant most of the time.  Just when you decide to do something about it, it drags its sorry butt and makes everything so goddarn heavy. 

I’ve taken refuge in the shell that I have built for myself eons ago–my self. People find it hard to believe that I am a solitary animal (yeah, oink) and that I prefer the lifeless company of my own shadow.  I do love the seemingly never-ending futilely suppressed laughter in the unholy hours past midnight, couch potato sessions till dawn, and gossip-swapping marathons that last till time becomes nothing short of an abstract idea with my friends.  And I do love the warmth and the it’s-ok-i’m-here-assurance that my family’s embrace and sheer presence offer.  But there are simply things that I have and need to go through on my own. 

And this is one of those things…

So, ya think ya know me?

Create your own Friend Test here

Shards

(this was posted in Friendster on Apr. 2, 2007)It’s hard. It drains every ounce of what I’m trying to convince myself as a life.

We went through this before. It lasted for almost a year. I even got into another complicated relationship just to get over it all. But we got back together. Everything else, common sense and conscience, fell into oblivion.

Now it’s finally over. It’s the right thing to do. And for the first time in my life I’m totally devastated. Serves me right for having taken relationships lightly since time immemorial. God, I’m in pain and I can’t even pick the right words to describe it. I’ve been wanting to blog it all out just to make it a little bit less painful. But I’ve been robbed of words or even thoughts. It hurts like hell and I can’t find anything to rub on it. Bawling my eyes out doesn’t even help.

For weeks, I’ve successfully convinced myself that I’m a zombie. Until now. Until I’m all alone and the truth just hits me right into my stomach. And it’s excruciatingly gut-wrenching. A million and one times I’ve considered slashing my wrists, taking all those pills, drowning myself with alcohol and whatnots. There have also been hell-hath-no-wrath-than-a-woman-scorned moments when I have plotted a gazillion of ways to hurt back. But I’ve no strength left and all I want to do is just sleep. Because sleep takes away the pain somehow.

My mom’s a huge help. She lets me be. She knows I’m not ok and she knows why but not entirely why but she lets me be. And she’s my only thread of sanity. Everything else is just nuts. And I’m a basket case.

It’s been a month now and somehow I hoped it was going to be at least an iota of an ounce better. But no, and I’m starting my sentences with conjunctions. I’m not ok and I’m on the outside limits of not ok. And it feels like it has just begun.

I didn’t want to stay. I left. I chose to leave. It’s the right thing to do. It’s supposed to make things a whole lot better. But it doesn’t. And I’m not happy. Far from it.

And I just want to be alone. The coldness of my solitude keeps me warm. I am warm. I’m not really sure. I can’t tell one from the other.

my mother kicks butt

This is a repost from our family portal. Reading this again makes me think, “I sound like a stage daughter.” Is there such a thing? I’m not sure. I just know that whatever mama felt when I joined contests (err, not the ones that involved wearing swimsuits, i’m afraid. too bad, eh?) and the pride that swells up her everytime I win anything, or just do well, it was pure bliss. I know. I feel it now. She doesn’t play the playstation or drink booze with me or talk about sex (that’d be the day!), or look like Princess Diana, but she’s COOL! Not all daughters get to be this lucky. This was written sometime in Feb. 2007.

i have finally beaten my mom in a game of chinese checkers. if we host a mini-olympics on chinese checkers in the family, my mother would most likely come out victorious, hands down, any day. by a mere move, i finally got a win in one of our nightly sessions over skype. yep, we play online because she is in ozamis and i am here in cebu.
you see, there’s really nothing extraordinary about moms beating their own kids in board games or in anything at all. they do that all the time. but then again, my wiz of a mother is 69 years old. err, yeah, even her age is a bit funky. she was schooled in a small town far down south and for most of her life, led a very laidback existence until my papa sort of “retired” from his tough cookie, i’m-the-master-of-this-house-so-beat-it role a few summers and springs ago. things have taken a different route from then on.

however, i have always thought of her as someone really cool. although when she first got her own cellphone, she had to place price stickers on the keys because they were too small for her bad eyes. i remember one time when we were exchanging SMS and we were in agreement all throughout when all of a sudden she said NO. because i was in a hurry, i called her to ask why she changed her mind. in a very nonchalant manner that only my mother could muster, she said, “oh, i couldn’t locate Y, so i just said NO instead. N and O are easier to locate.”

mama is funny that way. like me, she’s a walking contradiction. she is very passionate about so many things like eating on time and going about in a rush. in barely a few winks, she shrugs off the seemingly important events of the day like lunch, for example, to watch her favorite korean soap. oh, and she argues that she really doesn’t have time for any nonsense. hehe.

going back to my original musings, i just want to smile and dedicate this first post to the woman who has shaped the person that i am now–-whether you like it or not, ma, hehe–-my mother. for the enigma that she is, and for the many times that she has shocked so many people when she admits that she chats with her kids (old kids) and grandkids through YM, MSN, Skype and tagboards! and well, she beats all of us in chinese checkers, dominoes, the original checkers, chess and many others. she sometimes shows off an air of braggadocio and says she gets really bored with beating all of us. and take note, she does this while watching her favorite evening soap on a local channel. hehe.
my mother has set the bar way high in motherhood. and from where i stand (or sit) no one has ever come close.

not even for a mile.

Notes

I was ’sweeping’ my inbox when I came upon my buzzie’s email. Hay butch, you really have a way of making me smile… Maybe it’s because of your piñot. Hehe.

Thanks for the friendship, bastos as it is.

This came at a time when the world was at a standstill.. or so i wished.

—–Original Message—–
From: butch [mailto:butch@**********.com]
Sent: Tuesday, April 06, 2004 3:01 PM
To: Moi
Subject: Re: pssst….

so? is he here? do you have to leave because of that? do you have to revolve your schedule, your time, your feelings and all that mushy syet around him? do you have to go on depressed mode because the “love of your life,” the “light of your world” has dimmed and there’s nothing you can do? is that why wa na’y point to stay here? is that why you’re closing your eyes to the rest of the world? because you’re wallowing in despair and self-pity?!

pagka shallow.

you have a life, for crying out loud! you have us; you have mama janice, alvin, mars, barsy the super-mutated autistic boy; you have laedee, joe the slayer, louie my antithesis (and hopefully not my soul mate); you have your boardmates; you have me and joyce!

you have so much to do and so little time. stop wasting your time diha and start living your life the way you want it (read: single, enjoyable and fun — don’t join any charismatic group or any other group of that nature. they’ll only make you more depressed.).

come on! God made the world in six days and rested on the seventh day (i’m not sure where i’m going with this, so hang on…) you made beautiful music with tiger. now the music is gone and all the notes have gone flat. so what do you do? shut yourself in your room and stop making beautiful music? no. God didn’t stop creating after Adam. He made Eve. After tiger, there’s no other way except up. better things. more melodic music. more exciting and enjoyable things to look forward to.

sakto man sila. you should always look back to your roots to see how far you’ve come. but there is a point where if you keep looking back, you’re not going forward anymore (are we still on the same page….? nagkagubot na akong mga analogies….) and that is not good.

sorry ni-burst ko like this. your friendship is treasured a lot in this part of the world. going off the deep end won’t help anyone. unless you want to erase out memory of you. sorry……

I’ll Never Fall In Love Again

this song’s funny. from someone sour-graping about love… it makes someone who just got out of a life-draining relationship like me smile.

I’ll Never Fall In Love Again
by Mary Chapin Carpenter

What do you get when you fall in love
A guy with a pin to burst your bubble
That’s what you get for all your trouble.
I’ll never fall in love

Oh.. What do you get when you kiss a guy
You get enough germs to catch pneumonia.
After you do’ he’ll never phone you.
I’ll never fall in love again.

Don’t tell me what is all about’
’Cause I’ve been there and I’m glad I’m out’
Out of those chains’ that bind you
That is why I’m here to remind you

What do you get when you fall in love
You only get lies and pain and sorrow.
So’ for at least until tomorrow’
I’ll never fall in love

Out of those chains’ that bind you
That is why I’m here to remind you
When you fall in love
You only get lies and pain and sorrow.
So’ for at least until tomorrow’
I’ll never fall in love again

Ohhh.. I’ll never fall in love again
Ohhh.. I’ll never fall in love

From my old bloggie (Apr. 20, 2004) 

Falling

I am falling
In a world of menial blessings,
Only silent screams
Uttered, never spoken
Heard by the unwary
To fall on deaf ears;
Words decay
Like a feast for the dead.

I am falling
Unseen, but felt
Beauty conjures only sadness;
Like a thorn
In silver poems
Missing its mark
I bleed still

I am falling
Away, I try to pretend
I am going thither
Still I fall
Wings rendered useless
The pride of failure
In me remains
Stubborn not idle

I am falling
Like the other wind
I reach the bottom
Only to find out
I am all alone.

From my old bloggie…(Feb. 11, 2004)