The Nomadic Chronicles

Long Walk to Forever

2010-10-06T12:34:00.000-07:00

Memories of college Freshman English! A beautiful story by Kurt Vonnegut - a bit long, but definitely worth the read.

* * * * *

They had grown up next door to each other, on the fringe of a city, near fields and woods and orchards, within sight of a lovely bell tower that belonged to a school for the blind.

Now they were twenty, had not seen each other for nearly a year. There had always ben playful, comfortable warmth between them, but never any talk of love.

His name was Newt. Her name was Catharine. In the early afternoon, Newt knocked on Catharine's front door.

Catharine came to the door. She was carrying a fat, glossy magazine she had been reading. The magazine was devoted entirely to brides. "Newt!" she said. She was surprised to see him.

"Could you come for a walk?" he said. He was a shy person, even with Catharine. He covered his shyness by speaking absently as though what really concerned him were far away--as though he were a secret agent pausing briefly on a mission between beautiful, distant, and sinister points. This manner of speaking had always been Newt's style, even in matters that concerned him desperately.

"A walk?" said Catharine.
"One foot in front of the other," said Newt, "through leaves, over bridges---"
"I had no idea you were in town," she said.
"Just this minute got in," he said.
"Still in the Army, I see," she said.
"Seven months more to go," he said. He was a private first class in the Artillery. His uniform was rumpled. His shoes were dusty. He needed a shave. He held out his hand for the magazine. "Let's see the pretty book," he said.
She gave it to him. "I'm getting married, Newt," she said.
"I know," he said. "Let's go for a walk."
"I'm awfully busy, Newt," she said. "The wedding is only a week away."
"If we go for a walk," he said, "it will make you rosy. It will make you a rosy bride." He turned the pages of the magazine. "A rosy bride like her--like her--like her," he said, showing her rosy brides.

Catharine turned rosy, thinking about rosy brides.
"That will be my present to Henry Stewart Chasens," said Newt. "By taking you for a walk, I'll be giving him a rosy bride."
"You know his name?" she said.
"Mother wrote," he said. "From Pittsburgh?"
"Yes," she said. "You'd like him."
"Maybe," he said.
"Can--can you come to the wedding, Newt?" she said.
"That I doubt," he said.
"Your furlough isn't for long enough?" she said.
"Furlough?" said Newt. He was studying a two page ad for flat silver. "I'm not on furlough," he said.
"Oh?" she said.
"I'm what they call A.W.O.L.," said Newt.
"Oh, Newt! You're not!" she said.
"Sure I am," he said, still looking at the magazine.
"Why, Newt?" she said.
"I had to find out what your silver pattern is," he said. He read names of silver patterns from the magazine. Albemarle? Heather?" he said. "Legend? Rambler Rose?" He looked up, smiled. "I plan to give you and your husband a spoon," he said.

"Newt, Newt--tell me really," she said.
"I want to go for a walk," he said.
She wrung her hands in sisterly anguish. "Oh, Newt--you're fooling me about being A.W.O.L.," she said.
Newt imitated a police siren softly, and raised his eyebrows.
"Where--where from?"
"Fort Bragg," he said.
"North Carolina?" she said.
"That's right," he said. "Near Fayetteville--where Scarlet O'Hara went to school."
"How did you get here, Newt?" she said.
He raised his thumb, jerked it in a hitchhike gesture. "Two days," he said.
"Does your mother know?" she said.
"I didn't come to see my mother," he told her.
"Who did you come to see?" she said.
"You," he said.
"Why me?" she said.
"Because I love you," he said. "Now can we take a walk?" he said. "One foot in front of the other--through leaves, over bridges--"

They were taking the walk now, were in a woods with a brown-leaf floor.
Catharine was angry and rattled, close to tears. "Newt," she said, "this is absolutely crazy."
"How so?" said Newt.
"What a crazy time to tell me you love me," she said. "You never talked that way before." She stopped walking.
"Let's keep walking," he said.
"No," she said. "So far, no farther. I shouldn't have come out with you at all," she said.
"You did," he said.
"To get you out of the house," she said. "If somebody walked in and heard you talking to me that way, a week before the wedding--"
"What would they think?" he said.
"They'd think you were crazy," she said.
"Why?" he said
Catharine took a deep breath, made a speech. "Let me say that I'm deeply honored by this crazy thing you've done," she said. "I can't believe you're really A.W.O.L., but maybe you are. I can't believe you really love me, but maybe you do. But--"
"I do," said Newt.
"Well, I'm deeply honored," said Catharine, "and I'm very fond of you as a friend, Newt, extremely fond--but it's just too late." She took a step away from him. "You've never even kissed me," she said, and she protected herself with her hands. "I don't mean you should do it now. I just mean that this is all so unexpected. I haven't got the remotest idea of how to respond."
"Just walk some more," he said. "Have a nice time."
They started walking again.
"How did you expect me to react?" she said.
"How would I know what to expect?" he said. "I've never done anything like this before."
Did you think I would throw myself into your arms?" she said.
"Maybe," he said.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you," she said.
"I'm not disappointed," he said. "I wasn't counting on it. This is very nice, just walking."
Catharine stopped again. "You know what happens next?" she said.
"Nope," he said.
"We shake hands," she said. "We shake hands and part friends," she said. "That's what happens next."
Newt nodded. "All right," he said. "Remember me from time to time. Remember how much I loved you."

Involuntarily, Catharine burst into tears. She turned her back to Newt, looked into the infinite colonnade of the woods.
"What does that mean?" said Newt.
"Rage!" said Catharine. She clenched her hands. "You have no right--"
"I had to find out," he said.
"If I'd loved you," she said, "I would have let you know before now."
"You would?" he said.
"Yes," she said. She faced him, looked up at him, her face quite red. "You would have known," she said.
"How?" he said.
"You would have seen it," she said. "Women aren't very clever at hiding it."
Newt looked closely at Catharine's face now. To her consternation, she realized that what she had said was true, that a woman couldn't hide love.
Newt was seeing love now.
And he did what he had to do. He kissed her.

"You're hell to get along with!" she said when Newt let her go.
"I am?" said Newt.
"You shouldn't have done that," she said.
"You didn't like it?" he said.
"What did you expect," she said--"wild, adandoned passion?"
"I keep telling you," he said," I never know what's going to happen next."
"We say good-by," she said.
He frowned slightly. "All right," he said.
She made another speech. "I'm not sorry we kissed," she said. "That was sweet. We should have kissed, we've been so close. I'll always remember you , Newt, and good luck."
"You too," he said.
"Thirty days," he said.
"What?" she said.
"Thirty days in the stockade," he said--"that's what one kiss will cost me."
"I--I'm sorry," she said, "but I didn't ask you to go A.W.O.L."
"I know," he said.
"You certainly don't deserve any hero's reward for doing something as foolish as that," she said.
"Must be nice to be a hero," said Newt. "Is Henry Stewart Chasens a hero?"
"He might be, if he got the chance," said Catharine. She noted uneasily that they had begun to walk again. The farewell had been forgotten.
"You really love him?" he said.
"Certainly I love him!" she said hotly. "I wouldn't marry him if I didn't love him!"
"What's good about him?" said Newt.
"Honestly!" she cried, stopping again. "Do you have any idea how offensive you're being? Many, many, many things are good about Henry! Yes," she said, "and many, many, many things are probably bad, too. But that isn't any of your business. I love Henry, and I don't have to argue his merits with you!"
"Sorry," said Newt.
"Honestly!" said Catharine.
Newt kissed her again. He kissed her again because she wanted him to.

They were now in a large orchard.
"How did we get so far from home, Newt?" said Catharine.
"One foot in front of the other--through leaves, over bridges," said Newt.
"They add up--the steps," she said.
Bells rang in the tower of the school for the blind nearby.
"School for the blind," said Newt.
"School for the blind," said Catharine. She shook her head in drowsy wonder. "I've got to go back now," she said.
"Say good-by," said Newt.
"Every time I do," said Catharine, "I seem to get kissed."
Newt sat down on the close-cropped grass under an apple tree. "Sit down," he said.
"No," she said.
"I won't touch you," he said.
"I don't believe you," she said.
She sat down under another tree, twenty feet away from him. She closed her eyes.
"Dream of Henry Stewart Chasens," he said.
"What?" she said.
"Dream of your wonderful husband-to-be," he said.
"All right, I will," she said. She closed her eyes tighter, caught glimpses of her husband-to-be.
Newt yawned.
The bees were humming in the trees, and Catharine almost fell asleep. When she opened her eyes she saw that Newt really was asleep.
He began to snore softly.
Catharine let him sleep for an hour, and while he slept she adored him with all her heart.
The shadows of the apple trees grew to the east. The bells in the tower of the school for the blind rang again.
"*chick-a-dee-dee-dee*," went a chickadee.
Somewhere far away an automobile started nagged and failed, nagged and failed, fell still.

Catharine came out from under her tree, knelt by Newt.
"Newt?" she said.
"H'm?" he said. He opened his eyes.
"Late," she said.
"Hello, Catharine," he said.
"Hello, Newt," she said.
"I love you," he said.
"I know," she said.
"Too late," he said.
"Too late," she said.
He stood, stretched groaningly. "A very nice walk," he said.
"I thought so," she said.
"Part company here?" he said.
"Where will you go?" she said.
"Hitch into town, turn myself in," he said.
"Good luck," she said.
"You too," he said. "Marry me, Catharine?"
"No," she said.
He smiled, stared at her hard for a moment, then walked away quickly.
Catharine watched him grow smaller in the long perspective of shadows and trees, knew that if he stopped and turned now, if he called to her, she would run to him. She would have no choice.
Newt did stop. He did turn. He did call. "Catharine," he called.
She ran to him, put her arms aroud him, could not speak.

EPAL: Sin mirar atras

2010-09-18T14:29:00.000-07:00

Sin mirar atras
Artist: David Bisbal
Released: 20 October, 2009
Recorded: 2008 - 2009
Genre: Latin pop, pop rock
Length 46:02
Label: Universal
Singles from Sin Mirar Atrás
1."Esclavo de Sus Besos"
2."Mi Princesa"
3."Sin Mirar Atrás" (Spain only)
4."24 Horas"

There are some albums that require you to listen to them dozens of times before you acquire a taste for them. There are also albums that get old because you've listened to them too may times. Then there's David Bisbal's Sin mirar atras, an unfortunate waste of talent of the reality show success story.

1) The sound of Bisbal has not seemed to mature despite four studio albums (three Spanish ones and one repackaged album which contained previously released tracks from the first two with three English songs thrown in) and two live concert albuma. The maturity of Bisbal's material that was beginning to be heard in the third album, Premonicion, has been erased. The sound of this album is no different from his sophomore effort, Buleria.

2) I felt Bisbal's third album Premonicion was a step in the right direction, with a good mix of fast songs and ballads. The ballads were executed beautifully, and the fast songs, though still bears a healthy dose of cheesiness, displayed the strength of his voice.

3) I really wanted to like the album, as I want Bisbal to continue selling records and keep the Spanish music industry afloat. I am aware that it might be the type of album that would require multiple listens before it grows on you, but alas, it has been months since I downloaded the album and I still find a lot of tracks boring.

4) The first half of the album is really weak. I usually find myself anticipating for Al Andalus, which is the 7th track. After the 1st track, the upbeat, OK-at-best Esclavo de sus besos, the album suffers a lull, as the songs coming one after another sound alike. Even the album's title track is ho-hum.

5) Things start picking up, as mentioned, in track number 7, the flamenco-tinged Al Andalus, followed by Cuando hacemos el amor, which more or less holds the momentum. In the next track, Bisbal's vocals finally soar in El Ruido, a song penned by another Operacion Triunfo alumna, Vega.

6) The next track is the latest single of the album, 24 horas. The '60s feel of the song is a bit weird for me. Another OK-at-best track.

7) After another cannon fodder track comes the second single to be released in the album, Mi princesa, a very beautiful song with the sweetest lyrics. I don't know why, but I kind of noticed some weird phrasing/breathing bits by Bisbal in some portions of the song. Anyway, it should have been the last track of the song, just to ensure that the album leaves a good taste in the mouth (or some good notes in the ear).

8) But no! There is a bonus track, Sufriras, a duet with British singer Pixie Lott. I do not really know what to feel about the song. It sounds like a song being played in a really cheesy Eastern European discotheque. What the heck were the record's producers thinking of when they included this bonus track? Couldn't they have let Bisbal work with David Guetta? Or one of 'em Dutch DJs? Totally unnecessary waste of 3 and a half minutes of the listener's time.

The album is certainly not one of David Bisbal's best. Two or, at my most generous, four songs may qualify as tracks to be included in a David Bisbal Greatest Hits compilation in the future. The more interesting tracks are few and clumped together in the middle. Sin mirar atrras is NOT one of those albums you would really like to listen to over and over again. It doesn't even reach a point of some songs sounding old fast. Some of them are just plain boring no matter how many times you've listened to them.

Final verdict: The guy is inifintely talented, no doubt. What he needs is a good album producer.

Save Your Auditory Nerves / Listen / Fantards, Get Your Own Copy / Bound to be a Classic / Cheat, Scheme, Steal, Commit Crimes for This!

Background on the singer:

David Bisbal, known for his curly locks and powerful belting voice, started as a contestant in the first edition of Spain's Operacion Triunfo, Endemol's version of the Pop Idol franchise. He eventually became the runner-up of the competition, and went on to sell a million copies of his debut album, Corazon Latino, making everyone ask who the hell Rosa Lopez is (the winner of the aforementioned competition). He became the latest member of a select group of Spanish male singers (Serrat, Sabina, Miguel Bose, Julio Iglesias and Alejandro Sanz to name almost all of them) who have established a career across the Atlantic. His latest album, Sin mirar atras, is, as of presstime, holds the 10th spot in the Spanish album sales charts, having been there for 47 weeks now. He has, so far, sold over 4.5 million copies of his seven albums worldwide.

THE FIRST SIX (from top row): Fresh off winning runner-up honors at Operacion Triunfo, Bisbal released Corazon Latino, which has sold over 1.7 million copies worldwide and got him the Latin Grammy for Best New Artist; Buleria, which cemented his position in the market; Todo por ustedes. Bottom row: the ill-conceived compilation album with English songs included; Premonicion, by far the best Bisbal album, I.M.H.O; the live concert version of the previous album.

Verdict:

(I Feel Like Such a) WHORE!

2010-09-16T10:57:00.000-07:00

(That was so liberating!)

When I got into blogging like eight years ago, the thing to do to generate traffic in your blog was to blog hop. That'd mean go to Blogger or Typepad, look who just got something published, click on the link, read through the blog, decide whether you liked the blog or not, leave a message on the blog and hope and pray that the owner of the blog you visited will return the favor.

Well, apparently, times have changed. My old blog which should have contained so many entries already got into a lost-in-translation accident in a web cafe with only a Korean operating system. I accidentally deleted the whole thing. Fast forward to this current blog, which is only a few years old and is rarely updated. I used to have really good blogs in my blog roll, as in blogs that you'd really spend a lot of time reading and lose track of time eventually. So, I am currently re-building my blog roll and my blogging mojo (years in the making).

Facebook has this blog community and I joined it because I want to lurk around good reads and hopefully get the people who write these blogs I frequent come visit my blog too (long shot, but hey). The latter thought is really not as important as the former one, knowing that the visitor to my blog may be bored because of the lack of updates. So I joined Networked Blogs with that mindset. after going through the registration and all, I discovered that there is a discussion board filled with people who start topic threads about their blogs, promoting them and promising to return the favor of following the blog of someone who has followed them.

I was uneasy with the idea from the start, knowing that the whole arrangement can be tricky in a number of circumstances. For example, what if somebody is following you and is expecting you to return the favor, with the other person having a blog that's entirely an SEO marketing tool? Or a blog full of religious entries? As much as I fully respect the reasons behind having an SEO blog (I am a ghost writer for SEO articles, for goodness sakes) and I feel it is any one's right to use a blog to spread religious platforms, I am not really comfortable with following them.

I follow blogs because I actually enjoy reading them. Through the whole follow-my-blog-and-I'll-follow yours process, I also felt like I was cheating some people who were expecting me to follow their blogs when I didn't really appreciate the content of theirs. Honestly, it doesn't take much to make me want to read your blog, just as long as I don't see misplaced widgets and fonts of different sizes and colors (I'm a bit obsessive-compulsive when reading) and the content doesn't read like it was copied and pasted from something I can read in Ezinearticles. If I had the urge to read an informative article about how to lose weight with the help of a miracle drug or how to monetize a blog, then I would go read e-How or Ezine, thank you. Other than that, there is a 95% chance I'll read (and eventually be compelled to follow) your blog. The chances of that reaching a 100% will happen if you keep a blog on books, movies, pop culture or current events.

Anyway, going back to that FB blog community, I got to read some blogs that were in those discussion groups and have actually followed some of them. I also felt like I did some subtle (actually, obvious) whoring of my humble blog, just to get into the "I'll follow you if you'll follow me" bandwagon. I have to say I felt a bit icky afterwards. My only consolation(s) is (are) that I did find some blogs that are really fun to read in these discussion threads, and I feel they are really worthy of a wider readership.

So I think I'll go ahead and click on some more of those threads and those blogs, but I won't be doing the vice-versa-following deals anymore. It just doesn't feel right for me. No judgement here; some people have to do what they feel they need to do. As for me, I feel the need to write more.

Epic WTF of the Week 06-11 September: Stuck in a Hole He Can't Get Out Of?

2010-09-12T11:36:00.000-07:00

The John Lloyd - Shaina thing, bow.

I'm sorry, but am I the only one in the Philippines immune to John Lloyd Cruz's (from hereon to be referred as JLC) charms? Sorry, but before I get stones hurled at me, let me rephrase that: I like John Lloyd Cruz as an actor. The looks department... OK, I guess? He looks neat all the time. Not neat as in swell, but neat as in literally neat, as in clean, as in no matter how many hours he spends in that bicycle of his (his chosen sport), he'd still look fresh. What I'm not getting is JLC's ability to turn almost all Filipina women (or at least those I know) into dangerous lionesses ready to pounce at anyone who dares to say even the slightest not-so-nice remark about him. I dare anyone. Go tell your Filipina friend that John Lloyd Cruz is ugly. The easiest you can get away with is a 'how-dare-you-say-that' glare and a pissy fit to last an hour minimum. That I do not get. I really find him rather vanilla.

JLC telling everyone to take care from an ad for Paracetamol.
He also endorses instant noodles, coffee, two fast food chains,
a clothing line (not a clothes line LOL), and other things that
may have slipped my mind; I'm sure I missed something.

Which leads me to Shaina. Amidst intense speculations months ago, the two finally admitted they are in a boyfriend-girlfriend relationship, leading some people to ask about where Ruffa Gutierrez is in the picture. The 1993 Miss World 2nd Princess and JLC were apparently an item after the latter's split with celebrity stylist Liz Uy and while together in the series 'I Love Betty La Fea'. Public opinion was a bit muted with the JLC - Ruffa affair because a) the two never admitted to any romantic relationship, b) Ruffa Gutierrez is a giant, and c) any disparaging remark against Ruffa will catch the ire of her mom, Anabelle Rama, someone who, according to an informal Facebook survey, Filipinos would not want to get into a bar fight with (after Manny Pacquiao and along with Dionesia Pacquiao).

Monster mom Anabelle Rama: Don't mess with her, dong.

With the truth coming out, mouths silenced during the time of the JLC - Ruffa non-relationship went wild, returning to their lioness modes and lambasting the not-so-poor Shaina, with comments ranging from "Lucky beyotch, I hate her!" to "Mamatay ka na, makating babae!" (lit. trans.: "Die already, itchy woman/harlot/whore!") As much as I do not understand the JLC adoration, I also do not understand the Shaina hatred. I mean, I understand how all gays and girls hate her guts for snagging THE JLC (with me going, "Big effing deal!"), but can't they give her a break? I guess she all the Shaina hatred is justified because noone really hated Ciara Sotto, JLC's first boyfriend because at that time JLC hadn't reached the LPIB (laglag-panti-ikot-bra/panty-wetting-bra-twisting) level of matinee idol-ism yet. Liz Uy is too alta (literally high, figuratively high-society, classy, well-bred) for anyone to bother with, and Ruffa, well, I've already mentioned the reasons earlier. It appears that Shaina is the most accessible JLC girlfriend so far, so people think that it's fine to hate her. Therefore, I conclude she needs an image consultant, stat.

THE LADIES' MAN: JLC and Ruffa in some paparazzi action on what I believe is Rodeo Drive, JLC with Liz Uy, JLC looking at his current flame Shaina and JLC with Luis Manzano sharing a tender moment on Brooklyn Bridge (just because, this is from a movie where JLC played a gay guy)

Last weekend, the WWW was ablaze with word that after a night of debauchery, John Lloyd and Shaina got it on and because of fatigue and alcoholic intoxication, JLC's member got stuck in Shaina's female parts.

Yes, whoever you are, if you aren't familiar with Philippine showbiz and wondered if you read what you just read correctly, well, yes, YOU READ IT RIGHT!

Mr. John Lloyd Cruz, who will always be Rovic to me (his breakout TV role), had his penis stuck in Ms. Shaina Magdayao's vaginal cavity, or so the rumor went. While I just couldn't help but laugh uncontrollably at the entire thing (pardon the immaturity), self-proclaimed insiders have added details to the rumor. As with any urban legend, it starts with a doctor, who happens to be the friend of the neighbor of the cousin of the second wife of the aerobics instructor of the insider, verifying that JLC and Shaina snuck in a hospital (Makati Med? St. Luke's? QC or Global City?) with only a blanket covering them, the guy on top of the girl, to have a medical procedure done for them to be separated. More insiders poised to quash any cynical thoughts were quick to point out that what happened is an actual medical condition known as (drum roll please...)

vaginal captivus

an occurrence wherein the vaginal opening of a woman closes, perhaps due to fatigue.

And yes, to strengthen their case, insiders point to an episode of Grey's Anatomy which has featured such a case. Apparently Grey's Anatomy is now the paragon of truth in anything medical (sorry, cannot confirm the episode, stopped watching the show after its second season; besides, my medical show is House). Everyone involved has denied what happened, and I hope people will leave it at that.

I mean, really? Penis captivus whatever? WTF. Epic wow.

Ironies and Surprises

2010-06-30T23:45:00.000-07:00

How ironic it is for my dad to pass away when my last entry for this blog was about dads!

Speaking of irony, because of my dad's passing, I shall go home again this Saturday, the second time in a month. Which is weird because the last time I went home prior to two weeks ago was in 2007. So, yes, I have spent 2 Christmases and New Years away from home. And now, suddenly I'm going back and forth to Bacolod like some carefree jet setter, which is of course, farthest from the truth (being carefree and a jet setter).

Anyway, my dad's death and the impending event (as early as Monday I thought something was going to happen this week) had me on a purging mood. Aside from over-consuming food rich in fiber (to good effect), I had cleaned my cabinet, bookshelf and cupboard. I have also "streamlined" my web persona which had me deleting my Friendster account. I know, Friendster is so 2007 and everybody's profile there hasn't been updated since last year, so what's the use. One social networking persona down, less chances of identity theft, and what I have left are my Facebook, Twitter and Blogger accounts. I have a LiveJournal account which I keep so that I could comment on LiveJournal blogs. Next subjects of my cleaning itch were my 4 email accounts. I actually have 5, but I'm letting the 5th account die a natural death, meaning let that account be filled with spam and offers from Chinese DVD pirates and Canadian pharmacies for Viagra. I painstakingly deleted three and four-year old e-mails, most of which were e-mails of the "pass this forward of you'll die" variety. yes, I was a bit gullible to those things at one time in my life. But there some of those e-mails that I didn't get to forward to 20 or so people because some of the instructions on them were rather impossible to do, or simply stupid.

For the past four years, a toilet sink has fallen on my foot, I have been stitched below my chin because I stumbled on an escalator that suddenly stopped, some friends have decided to un-friend me and a motorcycle has hit me while I was crossing a street. But obviously, I'm still alive and I have outlived my dad who doesn't have an e-mail account, and thus wouldn't have been a victim of these e-mail scams. So screw those people who pressured me to email something or I die. Burn in hell together with those Liberian people who asked for my bank account details in exchange for me being a keeper of their ill-gotten wealth. This world is full of weirdos.

Just this morning, while I was purging my e-mail accounts of filth, I chanced upon an email from Blogger notifying me that I had a comment to be moderated in my blog. SURPRISE (ala Chris Daymon)!!! The comment came from an Edward Copeland, whose name I somewhat found familiar. True enough, he has a film blog I follow and apparently, he has given me the honor of a Versatile Blogger Award. Part of me wanted to erase the comment, thinking it was one of those spam comments that lead me to chat with topless blond girls in my area. Duh. Thank God it was not.

So, OK, I'll participate, which demands me to follow these rules (up until this time I was a bit irritated. An award with rules to follow??? Geez. But then...fine.):

• Thank the person who gave you this award

Thank you, Mr. Copeland for this honor. I do try. I am as versatile as anyone can be and I am really trying to be a more active blogger. I try, I really do. I will try my best to be worthy of this honor.

• Share 7 things about yourself

Wow.

1. As mentioned earlier, I just lost my dad. So, that makes me a semi-orphan. My mom is still very much alive and is hinting on a Hongkong vacation to ease her mind off things after the pressures and preps of putting my dad to eternal rest.

2. I love movies. I do not hold myself in high regard as to my taste, but I love foreign films. I love that by watching these movies, I get to live vicariously through the characters in more interesting places and times without leaving the comforts of my chair.

3. Aside from films, I also love watching reality talent shows. I am constanty irritated by how the more talented ones get eliminated early on and how the ones that come out victorious eventually get endeared to the viewing public, eventhough the fact remains that they weren't as talented as their fallen comrades (e.g. Jasmin Trias [over JHud???], Kris Allen [over Allison and Adam???], Virginia Maestro [over Chipper???] and Lee Dewyze [over Mamasox???]).

4. I know of a friend who doesn't eat bananas because a teacher once told her bananas are food for monkeys (Jenny Araojo alert!). What I haven't told her was that I was once traumatized by a teacher too, and that teacher was to alter my diet forever. When I was in kindergarten, a classmate asked our teacher where fishes pee and poop. Dearest teacher answered in the water. Inquisitive classmate retorted, "But that's where they live!" Dearest teacher answered, "YES!" with a matching squirm, obviously realizing how disgusting her answer was. 24 years fast forward, I haven't eaten fish. I eat crab, shrimp and lobster meat, but no fish. Damn teacher.

5. I am interested in anything Indian and anything Hispanic. Thus, I know which ecdl video footballer Fernando Torres starred in (Ya Nada Volvera A Ser Como Antes[ecdl is el canto del loco]) and who that woman in the Olay Total Effects ad now showing on Philippine TV is (that's Bollywood star Kajol [wife of Ajay Devgan and cousin of Rani Mukherji] - the gesture in 0:10 is a giveaway).

6. I just realized that I've been living in Manila for 14 years already. That's almost half my life.

7. I love reading too, or rather shopping for books. Last year, I bought 43 books and actually read 4, two of which I actually bought in 2008. The rest, as of presstime, have been collecting dust. That must change.

• Pass the award along to 15 who you have recently discovered and who you think fantastic for whatever reason

Ack.

• Contact the blogs you picked and let them know about the award.

OK, I shall choose 15, but I have to violate the earlier rule. I haven't discovered great blogs as of late. So, I shall bestow the awards to 15 blogs I follow but haven't been given the award. I hope that'd be just fine. But this will be done in the coming days, OK? Getting 15 blogs and informing them would just be a lot of work, considering I still have 5 essays that needed to be finished for work. AND I'M A SEMI-ORPHAN!!!

P.S. I hope no one gets offended with the way I "handle" my dad's death. I am mourning, but I choose not to be heavy or dramatic about it. My father was never one who was sad about things. I'm thinking he would be so weird-ed if he sees me, my mom or my sister hysterical over his passing.

A Tale of Two Dad Movies: Somewhere vs. I'll Be There

2010-06-18T20:48:00.000-07:00

The only thing common between Somewhere (Sophia Copolla, TBR in December 2010) and I'll Be There (Maryo J. de los Reyes, June 2010) is that both movies are about dads, their daughters and that seemingly complex relationship between them. And I guess that's all the commonality we'll ever see between the two. As for differences:

(1) Yes, Somewhere is a title of a song in the musical West Side Story. But the chances of Sophia Copolla naming her film after the song is close to nil. In contrast, the Martin Nievera song is all over the KC-Gabby movie. From the trailer to the actual movie, instrumental version to the almost-standard mega-hammed version present in all Star Cinema movies named after songs, which are increasing at an alarming rate (is that Gary V. singing?).

(2) Stephen Dorff and Elle Fanning (how she has grown superfast) are not a real-life dad-daughter team, something that Gabby and KC are. Which should have been an advantage, but then...not really. Not at all.

(3) The trailer itself for Somewhere is sparse of dialogue, while I'll Be There's has almost the entire story, complete with all the crying and the dramatic retort, laid out.

(4) As for the dialogue, what's with KC delivering the "clincher lines" (e.g. "You would be different, things would be different"; "You weren't a father to me at all, period.") in full theatrical bravado? Where's the restraint?

(5) I've always thought Maryo J. de los Reyes veered away from the waterworks, but just from the 3:40 trailer, there are 6 shots of KC and/or Gabby crying. That's one crying shot per 40 seconds!

Would it be impossible for Star Cinema to produce a schmaltz-free movie? I guess not.

See for yourselves:

Before I forget, happy father's day to all dads, including mine of course!

Eight Random Election Afterthoughts

2010-05-15T00:18:00.001-07:00

Ara Mina lost. Anjo Yllana lost. Aiko Melendez lost. Bottomline: Pops and Paulie, don't even think about it. Or better yet, tell everyone you don't know who the heck Jomari Yllana is.
May mga schoolmates (high school and college) pala akong politicians. Sa mga nanalo, congratulations! Sa mga di masyadong mapalad, (a) Di kailangan nasa gobiyerno para maglingkod-bayan, (b) Stick to your guns and serve the public if that's really your calling; the public will see through you, (c) End of the world na raw sa 2012, but then kung postponed there's always 2013.
If Noy would rather be sworn in by a barangay captain, look no further. Anjan na sa senado o, number 1 pa - IDOL KO SI KAP BONG REVILLA!!!
Risa Hontiveros said it’s mathematically impossible for her to get the 12th spot in the senate race. Ma’am, as much as it hurts me to say this, we were hoping against hope. After all, ang kalaban mo sa karera, nakakabayo! Ang pagbabalik ni Leon Guerrero sa senado!
Villar and Loren lost, and I was kinda expecting them to get even with their ineffective endorsers by replacing them in their shows. After all, they paid millions to these stars for... nothing. So I was visualizing a Jed Madela vs Eric Santos vs Christian Bautista vs Tita Loren showdown tomorrow on ASAP XV. I was also expecting Tito Manny to get contestants who swam in a sea of garbage for Wheel of Fortune and Biga-10. But now that it's Binoe Padilla hosting Wowowee, I guess Tito Manny will have to make do with replacing Lolo Pidol in his TV5 shows and guesting in Show Me the Manny, perhaps?
The only scandals that work nowadays are scandals about stolen stuff. This means, yes, Filipinos (including me) do not really care about having a president having allegedly failed what turned out to be fake psychological tests (I didn't vote for Noy because of his apparent lack of skills, not because he was allegedly cuckoo. Heck, the first senator I shaded was #13 - someone who has been confirmed depressed after her son's death – Miriam). People of my hometown don't really care much for Japayukis getting allegedly raped by the vice mayor and 5 councilors. The councilors who ran again, plus the vice mayor all won. Compare these to the C5 extension and PSE sweet deal scandals that were thrown to Tito Manny. No amount of endorsements from Lolo Pidol, Wowowee and People's Champ resuscitated his credibility.
What the effing eff was Willie Revillame thinking, challenging ABS-CBN to fire him because of Jobert Sucaldito, just days before the elections? In the first place, he's not exactly A"Bias"-CBN's (I don't really 100% believe in this, I just want to use it) darling as of the moment as he endorsed Manny while the TV network has made it quite clear from the start they were leaning towards a Noynoy presidency. And the smug attitude by saying "ABS-CBN is not the only TV station in the Philippines." The heck? ABS-CBN has kept you despite that "explain before you complain" scandal, the anniversary stampede and your generally inept and irritating manner of hosting. Now that your presidential candidate lost and with the ire of your rival Joey de Leon who has TV shows on TV5 and GMA, which TV networks are you actually planning on transferring to? IBC 13? NBN? The Dating Daan station?
Boy Abunda on 'Kris's Despedida' issue: "Give the girl a break." Uhm, Kuya Boy, kaya nga pinapaalis, para siya magkabreak! Isipin mo, kung aalis si Kris, magkakabreak siya, magkakabreak din ang sambayanang Pilipino! Bongga!

Why I’m voting for Gibo Teodoro

2010-05-07T00:55:00.000-07:00

Finally, I have decided who to vote for President on Monday. After much thought, it came down to either Richard Gordon or Gilbert Teodoro. Sorry, but at least for me, the others weren’t even close. I eliminated Villar as early as when he announced his candidacy (and it wasn’t even because of the C5 issue). Nicanor Perlas and JC de los Reyes didn’t really strike me as people who can actually do things on a national scale, although I applaud their efforts in their previous endeavors. Jamby’s anti-Villar campaign focus at the start of the campaign did not impress me. Noynoy Aquino was someone I considered up until I realized something – he hasn’t really done anything. So, I choose Gibo.

I have no grand illusions of this decision as having a ground-breaking, earth-shattering effect on the elections, compared to what I think a popular noontime show host thinks of his grand Vice President “announcement,” but hell yeah, it’s my vote and I am making sure I’m making an informed, well-thought decision. People who think making such a big deal out of one’s vote is unnecessary, close this note now. I guess I’m just someone who thinks exercising my right to vote will give me the right to participate in my country’s future. So, yes, I’ll be entitled to complain come hell or high water if Gibo doesn’t win and whoever sits in the presidency constructs another circus with a 6 year run.

So, why am I voting for Gibo?

At least for me, the presidency is a job. I consider myself a part of a 36 million-strong country-wide HR department who’ll determine the candidate fitting the position. As any other job interviewer, the first thing I’ll be looking for are qualifications, of course.

Noynoy Aquino was 3-term congressman and a senator for close to 3 years. For those more than ten years in the legislative, he became Deputy Speaker for Luzon (a bone tossed by then House Speaker de Venecia to placate his LP dogs/supporters) and Senate Committee Chair on Local Government. He authored 9 bills plus sponsored another 9 in the senate, and those that were actually passed into laws add up to a total of (drumroll, please)... 4. Yes, there’s definitely more to legislature than to write laws. I understand there’s check and balance with the executive and judiciary, adhoc senate committees, etc etc – I graduated with a Political science degree, thank you. But when you have someone like Miriam Defensor-Santiago who has authored around 700+ bills since 2004, heads senate committees, is battling depression after her son’s suicide AND is allegedly psychologically unstable, Noynoy’s 18 bills just doesn’t seem to make sense. At all.

Erap has had some really solid accomplishments during his interrupted presidency, including the quashing of the MILF, the “booming” of the BPO industry and the use of his picture on MRT cards, a project his predecessor masterminded. He was also found guilty of plunder beyond reasonable doubt and was sentenced to reclusion perpetua. Meaning, he would still be in jail now if not for the presidential pardon a little lady bestowed on him. Bottom line: he’s a criminal who got away.

Whatever happened to Villar’s Capitol Bank? I still remember watching the news with people lining up just to discover that bank already closed. I just cannot imagine someone running my country if he couldn’t even prevent his bank from going bankrupt. Yes, I know, businessmen are supposed to take risks and make mistakes. But come on, this was a bank with other people’s money, for effing goodness sakes, gone, just like that.

The use of children, poor (as in fiscally poor, not just cutesy poor) children at that, to campaign for you is inexcusable. I don’t even care if the jingle is as catchy as H1N1 flu. What the heck, letting children tell the public that you are God’s sent to eliminate poverty because you were poor before? How creative and thoroughly disgusting. The worst thing with that campaign was that people easily dismissed it as “You have to hand it to his PR men, the ad is so catchy.” Seriously? From my end it sure looks like Children of the Corn dressed in tattered clothes. Read: BRAINWASHING the most vulnerable, because they are (1) children (who are like tape recorders and repeat anything, catchy or not) and (2) poor (who’ll do anything for a warm meal).

Another thing that bugs me: candidates that claim that they used to be poor. That was like 30 years ago. You are swimming in money now. Get over it!

I will not vote for a candidate who hasn’t done anything and just tells everyone to vote for him because he’ll “continue” his parents’ legacy. Our country is brimming with heroes. In that case shall we invite all Osmenas, Aguinaldos, Quezons, Garcias, Magsaysays and Rizals to run for presidency? On second thought, why don’t we all invite all descendants of St. Lorenzo Ruiz to be president? That’s one person recognized not only by the Filipino public, but the entire Catholic Church on all corners of the world. That way we don’t just get the son of a hero and a dead president, we get the grandson or granddaughter of a saint. A SAINT!

I will not vote for Bro. Eddie because it’s his second time to run. Now, he’s claiming he was called by the higher power for the second time to run again. Now if the same higher power called him to run the first time, why did he lose? The higher power may act in mysterious ways, but for him to let his “chosen one” lose the first time and call him the second time seems a bit absurd.

Jamby, after Gordon and Gibo, actually has the best public service track record. What I don’t like about her campaign is that she started off by doing an anti-Villar campaign. I don’t really want to give my vote to someone who’s just presenting herself as an alternate to someone she hates. As much as she has already started showing TV ads of her platforms and issues, I think it’s a little too late.

Until the last minute, I considered Richard Gordon, but then if he couldn’t even run a campaign with his running mate, I’m afraid he might be running a one-man show should he become president. That’s rather scary.

I am voting for Gibo because he has the qualifications for the job. He has the smarts, the leadership skills, a clean track record and holds himself accountable to everything he has done. No “vote for me because I’m the chosen one.” No “vote for me because I’m the son of heroes.” No “vote for me because I used to be poor and poor kids are singing my campaign jingle.” No “vote for me because we all hate this shark of a candidate.”

Of all the candidates, I see myself voting for Gibo and actually being proud of voting for him. I don’t get the feeling that I’ll have to defend him or think twice before telling anyone that he has my vote. If he wins, I am convinced better things are in store for our country. If he loses, then I won’t really be surprised if we’re headed for another 6 years of waste.

EPAL (Eight Points at Labay-labay*)

2010-02-20T00:17:00.000-08:00

* Randomness, in Ilonggo labay-labay (stress on 2nd and 4th syllables) means random and, most of the time, unnecessary stuff. In Bisaya, labay (stress on 1st syllable) means to throw, so I guess, it sort of means the same, right?

(1) I am currently in that smoking area/al fresco area of McDonald's Greenbelt. A few minutes ago, I was minding my own business (tending to my Facebook restaurant and reading Jessica Zafra's blog) when I saw, from my peripheral vision, a European-looking guy (think Peter Sarsgaard) walk over the waist-high glass fence that separated the area from the sidewalk. He approached me, and in ever-so-thinly accented English, asked me for 29 bucks because he needed that much to go home to San Pedro, Laguna. I was dumbstruck for around three seconds before I offered my apologies.

(2) He went inside the store, probably to ask for 29 bucks from someone else. His head was filled with sweat and I was freaked out for a minute before recovering. He was so precise. 29 pesos. He must have really needed it. Lord, sorry. I'm just your regular, jaded Manila resident whose first reaction to any solicitor is a quick N-O.

(3) If he had said that he needed 29 bucks to get to his next pit stop before a team catches up with him in the Amazing Race, I would have reached for my pockets in no time, nanginginig pa.

(4) I just watched An Education days ago, so I really have a HUGE thing for Peter Sarsgaard. It is difficult to say no to Peter Sarsgaard.

(5) If he had asked me for some other thing, it would have taken me a full minute to say no. Nobody says no to Peter Sarsgaard. Who the F cares about Maggie Gylenhaal? Actually, I would have said yes.

No, wait. My morals are intact. Intact ampota.

(6) Now, why is he going home to San effing Pedro in effing Laguna? No offense to Laguna residents, but...?
(7) Wait, are there an abundance of cash-strapped and impossibly hot oreigners in San Pedro, Laguna? Shall we all move to effing San Pedro like, now?

(8) Will somebody tell me how to react to a hot foreigner soliciting cash?

Oysters:Pearl = Me:Ranting

2010-02-10T01:01:00.000-08:00

A pearl is formed when a foreign object is introduced into a mussel or oyster. In turn, the animal coats that foreign object with a substance called nacre. The piling up of nacre makes the pearl.

Now, if human beings could only be like oysters that not only coat irritants, but also create something beautiful. Alas, this is not the case, especially for your truly. Irritating objects are subjects of, well, irritation, and therefore it is my ernest wish that they be eradicated from the face of the earth. No, I'm not an oyster, hell no. So, sue me.

It just so happens that our planet is filled with irritants, and much of them are things I cannot really eradicate, unfortunately. They come in all forms and circumstances, mostly unavoidable - songs that stick in your consciousness like moist booger, overheard conversations you wish you hadn't heard - you get my drift. So, let this blog serve as my vent for things irritating, in the hopes that, despite not having the enviable talent of oysters, I may still hold on to what's left of my sanity.

Case in point:
One afternoon, I was in line to pay for junk I wanted to eat minutes later, and two ladies dressed in university uniforms were engaged in a very animated conversation. It was their turn already but the girl holding her supposed purchase was lost in her thoughts, as she was trying to remember something to contribute to aforementioned conversation. The cashier was thirty seconds close to hurling expletives, with her eyes ready to commit murder, if looks could kill. The conversation became a variation of the popular noontime show staple Pinoy Henyo, and everyone got into the action because it felt like the girl will not hand in the bottled water she wants to buy unless she remembers what it was she really wanted.

Girl Friend: So, inumin siya? (So, it's something to drink?)
Gaga girl: Oo, shiet, ano ba kase yun? Ungggggggh. (Yes, shit, if I could only remember. Scary sound of frustration that one wouldn't expect a lady to produce, with matching feet stomping).
GF: Softfrink?
GG: Hindi. (No.)
GF: Kape?
GG: Hindi.
GF: Juice?
GG: Mmmmmm.....deeeeeeeee. (Neeeeeeee..........oooooowwwwwwwwwwwww. Imagine sound of someone constipated for two days.)
GF: Masarap? Ano color? (Is it delicious? What color?)
GG: Parang yellow na orange. (One of two things: Mountain Dew or urine???)

Cashier is frothing at her mouth and threatening to transform into Emily Rose any second.

GF: Iniinom natin? (Do we drink it?)
GG: Oo naman. (But of course, stupid.)
Counter bagger: Malamig siyang inumin? (Is it a cold drink?)

GG shots CB a sarcastic glance along the lines of "Yah, like that's gonna help" while refusing to honor what I felt was a valid question.

GF: Oo nga, malamig? (Yes, is it cold?)
GG: Duh, syempre. (Duh, of course, with matching rolling of eyes, with undertones of "Why did you listen to lowly counter bagger. You're supposed to be on my side. Some friend, eejot!")

Cashier breathes extra audibly like her lungs were about to combust.

GF: Naku, ano kaya yan? (Oh my, what could that be?)
GG: Basta, maikli lang yung name. (Well, it's got a short name.)
GF: Mga ilang letters? (Around how many letters?)
GG: Sure ako. Sure ako. Two. Two letters. Ayan na!!! Nasa dulo na ng dila ko!!! (I'm sure. I'm sure. Two. Two letters. There it is! It's at the tip of my tongue).
GF: May ganun ba? (Is there such a thing, you moron? We're causing a scene. I don't wanna be identified with you after this.)
Cashier: Coke? (In between gnashed teeth)
GG: Two letters, 'te. Two!!! (Two letters, sister. Two letters. Don't you know how to count? You're the cashier, you're supposed to know how to count.)
Me, who is 95% so over this woman: RC?

GG stares blankly at me, considers my answer for 5 seconds, then says: Hindi e. Hindi siya softdrink. Pero two letters talaga e. (No, it's not. It's not a softdrink. But it really has two letters, with her eyes starting to get misty from the struggle of thinking)

Two guys who looked like construction workers making the building beside the store and our office were behind me at the line. One of them was beginning to mutter "Pasalamat to babae sya..." (She should thank her lucky stars she a girl or else, I would have clobbered her to a pulp).

Then, by some stoke of genius, GG turned around and looked at the construction workers behind me. Her eyes widened like she found a pot of gold when she saw what the other construction worker was holding.

GG: AYAN!!! Ayan!! Girl, Ayan o! (There it is!!! There! Girl, there it is, pointing her friend to what the guy was holding)

The guy was holding a plastic bottle of C2 iced tea.

C2. C. Two. C. 2.

GF: Ah!!!!!!!!!!! C2! Hahahahahahaha. (Nervous laughter, meaning: Shet, nakakahiya ka.)
CB: C2 pala e. (Oh, it's C2. If you weren't pretty, I swear you're just plain dumb.)
Cashier: C2? (Medics, I think I'm gonna faint.)
Construction workers: Ah, eto? (Oh, this one? )
Me: ... (ANAKNGPUTAKTE. BOBA. SINCE WHEN NAGING LETTER ANG NUMERONG 2? HA? BWAKANANG(*)^$^&B V*B!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
GF: Girl, balik ka dun at kuha ka na ng C2. (Girl, haul your hiney on the double and get that effing drink before someone whoops your ass.)

After the two of them left the counter, I looked at the cashier, the two construction workers and the poor bagger. I swear they, me included, looked like we almost got ran over by a car seconds ago.

Cue REM.
"Don't let yourself go." (looking at the bagger whose mouth was still agape)
"'Cause everybody cries..." (looking at the cashier who has been shaking her head for two minutes now)
"Everybody hurts...." (looking at the two construction workers, whose bottles of C2 iced tea are already dripping precipitate)
"Sometimes." (Feeling like I just ran a 100 meter dash)

I walked out slowly of the store while devouring my bag of Mr. Chips in record time.

I could just imagine how difficult it is to be an oyster.

The Fast and Comfortable are Complaining

2010-01-23T00:45:00.000-08:00

"The aid is never fast enough for the armchair aid workers sipping their lattes."

STEVE MATTHEWS, spokesman in Haiti for World Vision, on the critics who say that aid has not gone to Haiti quick enough; blogs and social networks have questioned the response to the devastating Jan. 12 earthquake

Oooooh, now that's a fierce bitchslap from someone who's actually there! Amidst all the clamor by bloggers and social network addicts for whoever is in charge to speed up the aid to the hapless victims, let's collect ourselves and think. Or as Kris Aquino has popularized with her interview last week, count to 10, or at least say you tried.

Now, as someone who is from the Philippines, a country with a social calendar that's incomplete without its at-least-once-every-quarter share of natural and man-made disasters, I could only imagine how difficult it must be to send all the help to Haiti. The Philippines is also surrounded by water, and the logistics of passing aid in that kind of situation is almost impossible. To send planes and helicopters full of aid is time-consuming and budget-draining. I mean, where else can Haiti get aid? From the rest (read: poorer) regions of the country? From the Dominican Republic, the only country that shares a border with them?

Yes, it is a foregone and mildly irritating conclusion that aid for Haiti would primarily come from the US. Of course, when the US headlines a cause, whatever it may be, results are expected to surface as fast as a McDonald's counter giving you your Big Mac and French fries. So, what to do Americans do when CNN and The Huffington Post report of the continuous suffering of Haitians? Complain via their blogs and social fora.

Well, well, well, isn't that just convenient? Now, before hurling a fresh batch of complaints, consider: if you donated cash to Haiti victims (like I did when the deadly typhoons hit this country), it should be understood that your cash goes through a process. Your money will be used to buy stuff. The stuff will be packed and transported, which will take a bit, considering the stuff will not be going through the Channel Tunnel or be transported by a Lockheed SR-71 Blackbird. Once whatever stuff was bought with your money arrives in Haiti, relief workers need to sort through them again and they will be transported to where they are needed the most, which will take more time, considering the earthquake made Port-au-Prince's roads worse than rocky road ice cream.

So, I dare say, if you want fast results, results that you can actually see and experience for yourself, why not go to Haiti yourself and lift some bricks and recover some victims? I don't know how you're gonna go there, maybe take a plane to Santo Domingo and walk. Volunteer under the Red Cross. Ask Ricky Martin to lend you his private jet. But until then, if you think that your monetary donation gives you the right to yap the whole day and demand that the UN move their asses, you are unfortunately wasting your energies.

I knew a lot of people, in the midst of the two typhoons hitting the Philippines in the span of two weeks, actually move their own asses and distribute relief goods or use their surfboards to rescue flood-stranded people. In hindsight, I could only remember the actual victims complaining because they had the right to do so - after all, they were suffering. The rest were busy in networking with their friends on how to join a volunteer group and using their Facebook, Twitter and Blogger accounts to organize relief efforts. To summarize, everyone was too busy with their own thing to complain. People like me, who were a bit chicken to brave the chaos or were hampered by logistics to help and could only spare a few pesos, shut their holes and knew that the people actually doing something were heroes.

So, bloggers who can't seem to do anything but complain about how slow everything is with regard to Haiti while typing their entries in Starbucks, shush. If you want fast results, get your own asses moving and experience how it is to actually help these people in Haiti.

Until then, why don't you pray along with Pat Robertson?

* * *

Don't even get me started with the Dominican Republic. Read "The Feast of the Goat" by Mario Vargas Llosa for more info. But before you get your underwear in a twist, the Dominicans are doing all they can, with even their congressmen pledging 10% of their salaries to the Haiti efforts. It's just that the road between Port-au-Prince and Santo Domingo has not been developed, with their nasty history and the mountainous landscape between the two capitals.

Dahil birthday ngayon ni Confucius...

2009-09-28T22:55:00.001-07:00

at sadlak dusa ang aking mga kababayan, smile muna.

Betchabay the Cobwebs (of this blog) and the Sorrow

2009-09-22T11:50:00.000-07:00

I am 30 years old. God. Am I old. Three weeks ago I was still 29. But now, I am just old. Moving on.

I haven't had the time to write anything in this blog for months. Well, I've been writing a lot of things for work. So yes, I've been writing, but have been too busy to write about the eccentricities of my rather mundane existence.

I am reminiscing on my old blog entries and this entry never fails to make even me laugh. It has been two years since this incident happened and I have actually seen these people when I visited the neighborhood weeks ago. They didn't see me but I was shocked to see one of them having purple hair. Hulaan niyo kung sino.

Anyway, reposting an entry written more than two years ago (God, it has been that long, wonder how ____ is... but I digress) entitled "One night, in a quiet (not really) neighborhood..."

One night, in a quiet neighborhood...
14 September 2007

Pasado alas-once at pauwi ako nang mapansin ko na lahat ng tao sa neighborhood ay nasa labas ng kani-kanilang bahay. Bigla akong kinabahan. May sunog? May pinatay? Sinaniban ako ni Gus Abelgas at nakiishmukuy.

Biglang may sumigaw galing sa pinakadulong bahay.

Still unidentified voice: Hoy, Gerry!!!! Lumabas ka dito!!!! Sisirain ko ang pinto!!! Mayaman ako ngayon at puede kong sirain ang pintong to. Tang&(%^$ mo!!! Lumabas ka.

Upon closer inspection, nakilala ko ang sumisigaw as Gerald, kapatid ni Gerry. Kilala ko sila dahil may sari-sari store sila, kung saan ako bumibili ng RC (so probinsya!) Si Gerry ay isang karpentero. Si Gerald ay isang extra. YES, AS IN EXTRA SA MGA TV SHOW. Masyado ata niyang dinidibdib ang mga Star Magic acting workshops. Anyway, I asked neighborhood chikadora (who happens to live next door, that's why I'm ultra behaved; mahirap nang maging pulutan) who has an uncanny resemblance with THE Christy Fermin)

Me: Te, anong nangyayari jan?

Ate Chikadora: Hay nag-aaway yung magkapatid.

Me (thinking to myself, "Duh, obvious ba????"): Bakit ba?

AC: Ah kase, si Gerald, hiniram ang sapatos ni Gerry, binalik, putikan. Eh alam mo naman si Gerry, maingat sa gamit.

Me: Ohhhhhhhhhhh.

Me to myself: Oo nga, halata naman mas malinis itong si Gerry, si Gerald the actor, mas may itsura nga, pero mukhang parating gusgusin naman. But no, does this merit a public scandal? FRIGGING MUDDED SHOES??? But no, eto na ngang si Gerald ang sumira ng sapatos, siya pa ang galit! Meanwhile, AC was reading my expression and offered an explanation.

AC: Kase pinagkalat daw ata ni Gerry na sinira ni Gerald ang sapatos niya kaya di siya makapagbasketball. Hayon di sila lahat nakapagbasketball. Nainis yung mga katropa ni Gerry, di kinausap si Gerald. Kaya si Gerald ngayon tong galit.

My brief interview with AC was interrupted as apparently, Gerry had come out of their residence to confront his drunk brother. RAMBOL NA E2!!!!

Asawa ni AC: Hala, awatin natin!

Dahil maingat din ako at ayokong mabasag bungo ko, sumama lang ako para magka-closeup view ng mga pangyayari. Sumama si AC at si Donna, anak ni AC at ang iba pang mga kapit-bahay mula sa masmalalayong bahay. Tumigil kami mga 50 m. Ang mga cargyng barako + Kuya asawa ni AC, dumiretso para awatin ang magkapatid.

Me: Teka, nasaan na ba si Tita Elsie?

Tita Elsie is the matriarch of the clan.

AC: Ay, kanina pa nag-collapse.

Background: Tita Elsie is a legend when it comes to collapsing and the art of it. Mapa bisita ng Meralco para putulan sila ng kuryente (di nagbayad), ang kehaba-habang pila sa COMELEC registration (hinimatay daw dahil sa init), at ang pag-amin ni Kris Aquino na kinaliwa siya ni James, lahat cause for a fainting spell.

Tita Lucy (one of 'em neighbors, tindera sa palnegke): Hay naku, makatawag na nga ng tanod.

Tita Susan (one of the more promiment neighbors): Tatawag ako ng police.

Pagbaling ko ng atensiyon sa rambol na nagaganap, tagumpay na naawat ng mga lalake ang magkapatid. With matching declare na ang Gerald na "OK na ako, OK na ako." Medyo humupa na ang crowd nang konti nang bigalang umingay. Tumuakbo pala itong si Gerald sa bahay at dinampot si Emily, ang asawa ni Gerry. HOSTAGE E2.

Gerald: Tang*(^% mo Gerry. Sasakalin ko tong asawa mo kung di kita mabugbog!!!!

Balik takbo ang mga lalake para awatin si Gerald, ngunit nakaposisyon na ang mga kamay nito sa leeg ni Emily.

Gerry: Tang*^% mo Gerald. Pakawalan mo si Emily. Mag-usap tayo.

At last, dumating ang tanod with matching wang wang sound effects emanating from their jeep. Papunta na ang mga tanod para panghambalusin ng batuta si Gerald nang umentra amidst the crowd (na naka office attire pa) ang younger sister na si Rina, isang sekretarya sa isang recruitment agency sa Malate.

Rina: STOP IT!!!! Mga kuya (addressing the tanod), umuwi na kayo!!!! THIS IS A FAMILY AFFAIR!!!!

LUMAKI ANG MGA MATA KO!!! HINDI DAHIL SA EKSENA, NGUNIT DAHIL SUDDENLY SPOKENING DOLLAR BIGLA E2NG SI GARGUELAYNE.

Rina again: This is a WAR... A WAR between brothers. We'll fix it inside. Sige na, magsiuwian na kayo!!!! WE DON'T NEED NOSY NEIGHBORS!!!!!!!

I SO WANTED TO DO CARTWHEELS. WAR!!! BETWEEN BROTHERS!!! INDAY, IS THAT YOU?????? I was half expecting her to start saying, "Alms, alms, spare me a piece of bread..."

Nadisperse ang crowd. Pumasok ang mga actors and actresses sa loob. Naiwan sa labas ang sabit na si Emily, still gasping for breath.

Another evening in the neighborhood.

Hit me like a ton of bricks at 5:00

2009-03-23T12:49:00.000-07:00

I have a student that I talk to at 6 in the morning, Korean time (that'd be 5 AM in Maniila) every goddem weekday. It's a cheeseball class - we use a cheesy book and the student is, in my opinion or maybe forced by the circumstances of his book, gives the cheesiest opinions. The student is the usual Korean guy - in his mid-30s, working as a manager of some firm, workaholic (works from 7 - 9), with a child and a wife, stickler to grammar and doesn't understand the part that a huge part of the English language operates on expections to the rules, very obvious East Asian accent. There are days when I wish the ten minutes would speed past, as the cheesiness can get to my nerves so early in the day. I mean, I could only deal with so much pros and cons of being optimistic vs. being pessimistic as my patience would allow. I am guilty of tuning out at times. Me bad teacher.

Earlier, we were talking about another cheeseball topic, expectations. As per the book, I asked the question:

Me: What makes you raise your expectations? Why?

Ben: Teacher, with me, it's who. My 8 month old daughter makes me want to raise my expectations of everything. I want to be the best in my work for her. My expectations of the world are higher because I want her to experience a world that is kind to her.
* Me thinks cheesy alert, cheesy alert. Ring the cheesy alarm!!! *

Ben: I love my daughter so much I want everything to be perfect for her. Even if she has already had 2 surgeries because she has a weak heart. I know she will survive. My expectations become my hopes for her. How about you teacher? Is there anything or anyone that makes you wish that everything is perfect?

SILENCE. Teacher too dumbfounded to answer.

Ben: Teacher?

Me: Ben, sorry, I'll have to get back to you on that.

Two hours later and I have yet to go back to sleep as Ben's question has scared sleep from me.

Can somebody answer Ben's question?

Graduation Blues

2009-03-20T21:45:00.000-07:00

It's that time of the year again! Thousands of students will graduate from school. Hence, (1) a huge number added to unemployed Filipinos, (2) a mad rush for dorms and accomodations in Quezon City and the U-belt, (3) parties, parties, and more parties, and (4) waves of nostalgia for the likes of me, who are done with all the three stages of graduation typical for Filipino students (grade school, high school, and college: I'm doing my masters but I think it'll be more of a relief rather than an emotional experience once I finish). Thus, the sudden spurts of Friendster and Facebook surveys of school experiences. And because I'm not immune to these surveys, I shall answer.

Grade school:

(1) Do you still remember all your sections since Grade 1?

Oh yes, with matching advisers:

Grade 1 - Hope, Mrs. Yusay

Grade 2 - Lime, Ms. Lacbanes (I transfered to a new school, and from that year I had sections to fill a palate colorful enough to shock Picasso or Warhol)

Grade 3 - Aqua, Mrs. Alejado

Grade 4 - Ivory, Mrs. Llena (the former Ms. Ortiz)

Grade 5 - Cream, Mrs. Patalagsa

Grade 6 - Tangerine, Mr. Rosales

(2) Were you an honor student?

Oh yes, I had to be. NOT being an honor student was not in my parents' vocabulary. It was like not being on the honor's list was a precursor to the Apocalypse, or the plagues of Egypt. The expected me to have honors every quarter the way they expected the electricity bill to come every month.

(3) What was your favorite subject?

Sibika at Kultura. I was a sucker for memorization. I used to scan the Philippine map once and remember where each province was, their provincial capitals, which region they belong to, and to some point, their population. By the time I was in Grade 4, I was so bored with the Philippines I started memorizing the things my sister (who was already in high school and studying Asian Civ that time) was studying. So yes, Bhutan's capital was, and still is, I believe, Thimphu, and Sikkim is part of India, not a separate country, since 1975. I can still remember some of them, but I have been thoroughly left behind. I even thought that province with the Garden churva on its name was a joke the first time I heatrd it.

(4) What was your least favorite subject?

Spelling. Because I tried my darned effing best and I would still have mistakes. Grrr. I was ambivalent towards Math that time.

(5) Who was your favorite teacher?

Ms. Lacbanes, my 2nd Grade adviser and English teacher. She was like this mommy figure. Very inspiring, the best.

(6) Who was your least favorite teacher?

No comment. Hahahaha. Ummm... when I was old enough to hate any of them, I realized that these were just people doing their jobs and if I don't like them, there's a great chance they'll sense it and they'll hate me too. I refused to waste energy.

(7) Most memorable line from a teacher:

"Kulang na lang kay Mark masking tape. Natam-an ka baba-an!" - Mr. Rosales

I think the way my teachers hammered the "you don't have good manners if you talk in the classroom" stuck with me forever. I don't like talking. AT ALL. My anti-social awkwardness probably stemmed from these encounters. Oh, I just psychoanalyzed myself. Hehehehe.

(8) What was your lowest grade?

I put the C in GMRC. Refer to question 7 answer. I dunno. I guess more than my blabbermouth, I thought the teachers hated my guts. I thought I came accross as someone who tuned out if I wasn't interested. Which I did most of the time. I don't have a very high IQ, but I thought I actually did well in absorbing all the stuff I was "hearing" in the classroom because I never remembered studying at home. after class. My idea of "studying" was doing my homework and getting quizzed by my mom when there's a scheduled test or during exam week. Which means that I had, and still have, great retention skills, depite my refusal to pay that much attention and talking with my seatmates through classes. But with IQ, genius, and most of all diligence, I'm as normal as normal can be, close to mediocre, actually.

(9) What was the highlight of your school year?

Christmas vacation and choral singing contest. Intramurals for the last two years of grade school.

(10) Were you active in extra-curricular activities?

No. Tennis was alien to our school so sports was out of the question.

(11) Did you join any conest?

I didn't have stage fright, but I thought it was icky to perform in front of your school. I lost in a poetry declamation contest in 5th grade. I won the general information contest godeffinggiven school year (long live trivia!!!). I loved writing but I always lost every essay writing conest. I guess I just didn't (still don't have) the discipline.

(12) Any embarassing experiences?

No. I was terrified of my mom storming into school and whacking my butt in front of the student body, so I had to maintain a perfect facade.

(13) Were you ever sent to the principals' office?

N-O.

(14) What was your most vivid memory of grade school?

Owing to my very good memory, I have tons of memories:

Getting my C grade and being told that my talkativeness could get me a low gtrade.
Everyone ganging up on me because I co-wrote (read: CO-WROTE) this super-mean song about a girl me and my two friends didn't like. Suddenly, my two co-composers deserted me and I was supposed to be the evil Mozart of Grade 4. And I had to stand up for an hour for my ugly behavior. Yes, I was soooooo sorry for it, but there were others involved. My co-writers eventually became the high school valedictorian and the other didn't finish her college degree and from what I heard, is now a single mom. (WOW!!! THE WHO???)
Winning a province-wide quiz show sponsored by the Rotary Club. I thought, that was cool, answering a bunch of questions correctly and getting a trophy. And 3,000 bucks, I think. I remember getting exempted for a good number of exams because my teachers, who have cursed my blabber mouth, suddenly became superproud of me and eating a lot of McDonald's caramel sundaes, the height of luxury in Bacolod City that time.
Going to confession with Msrg. Liu and celebrating mass once a month.
Experiencing inflation with siao kai, from 25 - 50 centavos in one year!!!
Eating in Celine's.
Going to Nita's in case there was something out of the ordinary needed (protractor, art paper, bond paper).

(13) What was your graduation like?

Grade school graduation was uneventful.

(14) What was your grade school sountrack?

Soundtrack? If I remember correctly, The Bodyguard soundtrack was so popular when I was in Grade 6. NKOTB! Jeremy Jordan! Debbie effing Gibson! Tiffany! Michael Jackson! Gloria Estefan! JOSE MARI CHAN AND EFFING BEAUTIFUL GIRL AND CHRISTMAS IN OUR EFFING HEARTS!

(15) What were the most famous TV shows when you were in grade school?

Cable TV was still not that popular, so people were so into Maalaala Mo Kaya, Palibhasa Lalake, Maricel Drama Special, That's Entertainment, Doogie Howser MD, Blossom, Punky Brewster, Seaquest (I remember Darlene Sy with a mad crush on Johnathan Brandis), Karate Kats, Duck Tales, A-Team, Airwolf, McGAYVER!!! And of course, last but not the least, Beverly Hills 90210!!! You're so lost on Monday mornin if you didn't watch 90210 (it was shown on Friday night).

(16) Any grade school trends?

OMG. Yes.

Pencil case with the "piano"
Pencil case with the buttons that you push to let out the ruler, magnifying glass, etc. (WHOTHEFECK NEEDED THE EFFING MAGNIFYING GLASS!!!)
Pencil case with the "air freshener" aka pong-it/kulangot (those small smelly things)
"Lata" pencil case
Laffy taffy, Bubble Tape, and that chewing gum with the container that looks like a locker (that teachers asked for to convert as their chalk holders)
Ball pens with smelly ink (Happy friends was the brand, I think, I had one and threw it, it gave me a headache)
Bensia ballpens and may bala na pencil
Automatic pencils with lead
Smelly fruit erasers (I had a grape one which Martin Velez took a bite of. He was absent the next day.)
Foot long ball pens (that you cannot put in your ultra-cool pencil case)
BACKYARD! TAPUNGULAY! (Hwa Ming exclusive)
Cleaners (I was always Thursday, alphabetical order, which is a good thing, Friday always gets to apply floor wax)
Padako-dako contribution sa Mission (the Grade 5 triumvirate of class advisers: Mrs. Bosime, Mrs. Patalagsa, and Ms.Baroa were super keen on winning every damed year)
Pop Swatch
TRAPPER KEEPER (my mom put her foot down and did not let me have this, the 1 and only 1 trapper keeper fresh from my USA aunt was used by my sister)
Merit pad paper and notebooks
Those big Tiger lunchboxes + Coleman water jug
Chinese jackstone, chinese garter, jumping rope (teddy bear, teddy bear...)
Lagsanay (and its variation lagsanay-pungkuanay), tubiganay,tingayuhanay, and the classic UNDERS KINGDOM (the cause of lost buttons and torn sleeves among Hwa Ming grade school students, much to the woe of grade school teachers)
AUTOGRAPH BOOKS!!! (Who was your first love: GOD, Who was your first kiss: PARENTS, What is love? Like a rosary, full of mystery.)
AUTOGRAPH DEDICATIONS!!! (TCCIC, Thank you for giving me space to write in your beautiful autograph, Stay cool, and PICTURE TO FOLLOW!!!)
GAME AND WATCH (I had the Popeye running around saving jumping fishes with a fishbowl G&W.)
Speech plays for Grade 5 ((Hwa Ming exclusive: Cops and Robbers, Police Academy)
Everyone bringing his or her own volleyball and basketball in the classroom
Memorizing Shylock's Revenge, Mother and Child, and The Bumblebee (for Grade 4 Speech class, Hwa Ming exclusive)
Archie comics
CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE (padamuay)

Breaktime Laughs

2009-03-18T21:22:00.000-07:00

As someone who evaluates English classes, I sometimes come across instances between students and teachers that end up being funny, mostly unintentionally. I do not pass judgement that harshly (I don't think of them as stupid or incompetent just because they slip into wrong grammar or mispronounce some words), and no way do I want to make fun of my teachers. In fact, I salute them for their efforts in getting their jobs done to the best of their abilities. Talking to 25 to 35 different people, with different personalities, backgrounds, ages, language comptencies, and different moods is no easy job, AT ALL. I have been there, done that before (the exact day before I signed my papers I had 39 (THIRTY EFFING NINE) students in my schedule - despedida???), so I should know better than to mock these people.

But hey, some slips are just plain funny and they're there to be noticed and brought to the teacher's attention for their improvement. If they're funny, then I'm no Grinch to turn poker-faced. Besides, it's good stress relief as well. Lastly, I'm not in any way perfect, but then this is my blog and I won't wash my dirty laundy filled with grammatical slips and mispronounced words in public.

My eight favorites transcribed (grammatical errors were transcribed as is, so if you think a sentence sounds wrong, it was said that way, don't go hating my typing skills, capish?):

(1) Teacher: Why do you like tiger?
Student: Yes.
Teacher: Do you know any tiger who's nice?
Student: Yes.
* By this time, I was like, "Hey teacher take a hint. The student's not understanding half of what you're saying. But then comes...*
Teacher: I'm a tiger. I'm nice too.
WTF? Did teacher suddenly turn feline on student??? Tarzan, isdatchu???

(2) Teacher: Are there pedestrians in Korea?
Me: Ummm, lemme guess. NO. Koreans have built-in wheels under their feet. Some of the more previledged ones (Heroes, Korean version) may have wings.

(3) Teacher: What do you want to be when you grow up?
Student: I want to be a doctor.
Teacher: Wow! Being a doctor is hard. So, be better be good in your studies, OK? So that you'll be a better doctor. Better days are here if you'll be a better student.
* Me: Di siya mahilig sa better.*

(4) Teacher: What did you do today?
Student: My school is on winter vacation.
* Methinks students have vacations, not schools.*
Teacher: No, no, no. Your school is not on vacation...
* Me: Yes, go on...*
Teacher: Your School is IN vacation.
* Me: Taena. Ginto na naging LBM pa.*

(5) Teacher: Our word for the day is "like". Use "like" in a sentence.
Student: SILENCE.
Teacher: Do you like you best friend?
Student: SILENCE.
Teacher: Is your best friend kind?
Student: SILENCE.
Teacher: Is your best friend funny?
Student: SILENCE.
Teacher: Is your best friend smart? Is he good? Is he understanding?
Student: ....Yes?...
Teacher: OK, say your sentence. "My best friend is understanding."
*Me: Di ba... Inutsang bumili ng tinapay sa tindahan sa kanto, pumuntang Megamall, at bumalik na may dalang harina.*

(6) Teacher: Any questions?
Student: Teachuh, what is a hose?
Teacher: Hose? Uhmmmmmmm...you know when there is fire...and fireman goes to the rescue...and takes out a long hose....and the water comes out........ WHOSSSSSSSSSSSH....WHOOOOOOOSH..... That's the hose.
Student: SILENCE.
* Me: SILENCE. LONG SILENCE. Yosi break, please.*

(7) Teacher: So you had general cleaning this weekend?
Student: Yes, we had...
Teacher: Oh, that's great! It's good to general clean. Everything is new, right? The only thing that are not new are the people. Hahaha. You really have to take away the old things and start for the new beginning. So, you're really looking forward for a brand new day. That's nice. It's a brand new things to come this year.

* Me: ................................FLOWERS. (YJ and Randy inside joke).*

(8) Teacher: So, you're really proud to be Korean huh?
Advanced student: Yeah, I remember in 2002 World Cup people were on the streets cherring, everyone was so united. I watched the soccer game in a large screen by the Han River. We beat Spain's sorry ass.
Teacher: *IGTING ANG TENGA* Oh... so what happened in 2006?
Student: Well....Korea...
Teacher: Got eliminated. And who's the #1 ranked tennis player?
Student: Uh...Nadal?
Teacher: Yep, he's from Spain. And who are the current European soccer champions?
Student: Um...Spain?
Teacher: Yep. And who are the current Davis Cup champions?
Student: I...
Teacher: Spain beat Argentina. Didn't Korea get eliminated in the...oh, FIRST ROUND?
Student: Oh...
Teacher: Uhuh.
Student: Ummm...teacher...are you Spanish?
Teacher: Ummm...no...I....I was just trying to play devil's advocate...hehehehe. So I guess, Korea is a great sporting country, huh?
Taena Macmac, wag mashadong pahalata!!! Affected much?

EPAL: Eight Points at Lusog: Vicky, Cristina, Barcelona

2009-03-09T14:32:00.000-07:00

(1) Lusog? Yes, lusog as in healthy. That's how Scarlett Johanssen's breasts are - healthy, beautiful, well-placed, and allegedly all-natural. Oprah, God bless her soul, can rally all she wants behind Kate Winslet's "real" breasts that starred in The Reader. But I am with Scarlett, all the way.

(2) So, I shall refer to Ms. Johanssen's breasts as THE Breasts of Scarlett (aka THEBoS, as inspired by Gualby/Almer's THE Sarah Gerone quip). THEBoS were brought to my attention by friend who wanted to donate the 2 hours she wasted on THE KChard film to KC for her acting lessons, when she texted that THoS deserve separate billing in the movie He's Just Not That Into You. I haven't watched that movie yet and I forgot where I placed that Vanity Fair cover with Scarlett, THEBoS, Tom Ford, and Keira Knightley, so I didn't really have a mental picture. When I first watched VCB last January, I really didn't mind THEBoS, as I was more into checking if Javier Bardem was flabby (he's not) and if Penelope was deserving of the awards buzz she had been getting (this was before the Oscars and GGs, when she usually lost to Ms. Winslet in the previous derbies).

(3) So, to get a picture of THEBoS, I watched Vicky, Cristina, Barcelona again.

WOW.

THEBoS did not disappoint. IN VCB, THEBoS made two prominent appearances: first when Cristina (Johanssen) and Juan antonio (Bardem) were doing it on the floor and they (THEBoS) were strategically covered by Juan antonio's arms and second when Cristina was awakened by Juan Antonio as he had to go to the hospital to fetch Maria Elena and THEBoS were delicately covered in white sheets- this was the more prominent appearance.

Glorious! BRAVO!!! Sure beats Castaway's Wilson as best performance in a non-speaking part. To think they were covered on both scenes. BUT DAMN!!! Such health, richness and beauty! Hell, yes THoS deserves separate billing. Can we have THoS included in the opening AND closing credits of whatever Ms. Johanssen's next movie is, please. These are hard-working, beautiful breasts. I wouldn't go as far as giving them Oscar statuettes, but they deserve their own Academy and Actors' Guild membership, I guess. Coupled with that raspy, I-can-still-sound-damn-sexy-even-if-I-just-read-the-phonebook voice, the sensual combo of THEBoS and the voice are a sure way to get industrial-strength boners in no time.

(4) So, now that I think I've given enough tribute to THEBoS, I just thought, Scarlett + THEBoS + his hotness Ryan Reynolds. Damn, no wonder why they got married faster than anyone can say "pre-nup". Oh, I'm supposed to write about VCB. I digress.

(5) Rebecca Hall did excellently as Vicky. I don't think she has gotten enough props for the way she portrayed the idealistic, seemingly stuck-up character. Hall found the right attack to her character, giving it the right amount of prim and proper without coming off as a Miss Minchin, anal, party pooper stereotype.

(6) Penelope Cruz, whose cleavage also deserved proper billing in her Oscar-nominated performance in Volver 2 years ago, does well as Maria Elena, the unstable ex-husband of amorous painter Juan Antonio. I think the kind of crazy she put into the character was the typical bungangera uberpassionate stereotypical Latina crazy which I didn't think she had difficulty getting into character with. The somber drab look certainly helped her establish how loony Maria Elena was. One of my favorite performances of the year, but then again the other supporting actress performances his year were really strong as well.

(7) I am not particularly a die-hard fan of Woody Allen, as I've only seen very few Woody Allen films (Annie Hall, Manhattan, Everybody Says I Love You, and Match Point), I have to say that this would top my list as my favorite Woody Allen film. It maintains a unique brand of wit Mr. Allen's films are famous for, yet stays very contemporary. I've always had this notion of Woody Allen's films as dated, but this one is very fresh.

(8) There is still somewhat a strong Woody Allen mark in the movie - the hanging ending, characters who take their melancholia in stride, the 3rd person narration is Woody Allen, only in a different voice. The somber core of the movie's theme gets a fresh, breezy treatment, thanks to Johansson's free-spirited character and the setting's beauty - Barcelona's vibrance, color, and life. The result is a beautiful balance, and I liked my dose of Woody Allen no-so-lite (but not heavy at all), thank you.

Eight Points at Lait (EPAL): When I Met U

2009-03-03T22:34:00.000-08:00

(1) Yes, the title was not erroneously typed. It's really U as in U that's short for university, U that's the 21st letter of the alphabet, U as in one of 'e, letters the Germans like to put an umlaut on the top of, which texters have then used to make messages cuter and friendlier. (+1)

(2) As part of the movie's title, the "U" just showed the producer's (or whichever genius thought of using the effing letter) desperation to make the cursed movie cuter than it already is supposed to be. Of course, the end result looks plain stupid. So stupid I started thinking of ways to complete the title. Here are some attempts:

When I met U, I realized that I only have 5 letters to go before memorizing the entire alphabet.
When I met U, I wondered if you were Burmese, as U is used as an honorific address in Burma/Myanmar (e.g. former UN secretary general U Thant).
When I met U, I found out that I really didn't care much, so much so that I couldn't bring myself to spell an effing 3-letter pronoun that refers to U.
When I met U, I found out that you're one sloppy speller and I got turned off.
When I met U, I got amazed by the amount of ink that you saved by disregarding the letters y and o.
When I met U, I was regaled by UR stories of avoiding carpal tunnel syndrome by just typing U in UR txt msgs. (+1)

(3) The U in When I met U sounds corny, cheesy, and feels like it was thought of by someone who was just downright lazy and spelled poorly. Please, no excuses of "it has been done before." The prior use of U in a movie title was in "My Only U" with Toni Gonzaga and Vhong Navarro, use of which is forgivable because: (a) The latter movie was a comedy, a genre that gives enough leeway for silly titles, (b) A movie with its main star named V-H-O-N-G can get away with bloody murder. (+1)

(4) The movie has Richard Gutierrez in stages of undress. True, true, they're stuck in an island, Richard has a great torso, Richard undressed is a gay audience crowd-drawer. What bothered me was how too perfect he is. Seeing him shirtless reminds me of those food items displayed in front of fast food restaurants and food courts. They look so shiny, perfect, and mouth-watering but upon closer inspection, of course, they're not real and they're made out of resin, lacquered or varnished to perfection. So not unlike Mazjh's perfect wedding bouquet, simple yet exquisite. Conclusion: Richard Gutierrez looks varnished. I was worried that he would do a Steven Segal while they were stuck in the island. Good thing he roughed up a teeny-weeny bit. By Steven Segal, I mean someone who doesn't get bruised, get hurt, or dislocate a strand of hair even while hell and high water have risen. Go ahead, watch any of Mr. Segal's films, quick. That pony tail ain't moving nowhere. (0)

(5) KC was cruelly casted as a promo girl. To achieve promo girl persona, KC adapts this parlorista/palengkera demeanor, complete with accent. Please, parlorista demeanor complete with accent + alabaster skin DOES NOT A promo girl make. Never in a million years have I seen a promo girl as flawless as her. Someone as beautiful as KC can do promos for cigarettes or cocktail drinks in bars or nightspots, but grocery store promo girl? Naglolokohan ba tayo? (0)

(6) First film with KC and Richard was filmed in Greece. The story was cheesy as a bottle of Cheeze Whiz, with musical number to seal the deal. Wonderful Greek vistas saved the film. In this film, Palawan was beautifully shot, and that and only that saved the film from being unwatchable. Thus, when the two too-beautiful-for-their-own-sakes marooned people finally got rescued out of the island, excrement began/resumed. Iya Villania was not as bad as Alfred Vargas, who played KC's needy boyfriend, complete with forlorn choirboy eyes. Ugh. Wasn't this guy good in the Tanghalang Ateneo plays he starred in? (-0.25)

(7) For a movie that promised to be better than the first movie of the KC-Richard tandem, it wasn’t that big of a leap. I found myself lost in the sea of unnecessary subplots and melodrama. Uck. I needed some rescuing as badly as, if not more than, the movie’s two leads. (+0.75)

(8) Rica's movie review expresses her desire to have the two hours she spent in watching the movie back and give it to KC for the latter's acting lessons. I, on the other hand, would like my two hours back by tearing the movie to pieces for the said time. Once I've consumed two hours in degrading the movie, I shall call it even, and the cosmos shall return to its proper order. A day after watching the movie, aforementioned blogger and I exchanged text messages about the movie's demerits for about 20 minutes. Now, I am spending an hour blogging this entry. 40 more minutes and justice shall be mine. After all, as someone who we shall call Cedie once said, "Ang sarap kayang manlait!" (+0.75)

FINAL SCORE: 12.5/8, umaapaw sa ka-epalan!

Twelve Books and Eight Backstories (My 2008 Book Log)

2009-01-11T19:24:00.000-08:00

I read more than 12 books this year, but I guess some of them fell into the category of "trashy," as Rica and Jaja called them back in college. So, here are the dozen that I really enjoyed:

Dreams of My Russian Summers by Andre Makine

Q&A by Vikas Swarup

Saturday by Ian McEwan

White Tiger by Aravind Adiga
The Complete Works of Mark Twain
The Shining by Stephen King
Zorro, A Novel by Isabel Allende
Feast of the Goat by Mario Vargas Llosa
The Time of the Hero by Mario Vargas Llosa
Windows of the World by Frederic Beigbeder
The Noodle Maker by Ma Jian
The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini

In awards night fashion, let me summarize the books with one liners: an ode to a Russian grandmother, a lucky Mumbaikar slum dweller accused of cheating in the country’s biggest TV game show, a usual weekend of a London family gone awry, the machinations of a country boy on his way to India’s elite, a father’s seasonal job in a picturesque Colorado hotel gone morbid, a collection of one of the world’s greatest literary geniuses, the adventures of a well-loved swashbuckler, a successful woman returns to her native Dominican Republic to confront her dark past, teenage Preuvian military academy brats commit a mistake with grand repercussions, various lives of people present in an iconic restaurant before its literal fall, the melancholic lives of a blood donor, a poet, and the people around them in China, and a young, rich Afghan boy ruins his servant with effects to last them their whole lives. There! Now, some things that I remember about them:

· Most expensive of the list: The Kite Runner at PhP250.00, bought at National Book Store Superbranch, Cubao (4th floor, with the other Brit bookstore overruns); Cheapest: Dreams of My Russian Summers, bought at Booksale Goldcrest for PhP45.00. The White Tiger is not included as it was a gift.

· My copy of The Kite Runner was borrowed by Alvin, who a week later, figured in a hold-up incident in the Baclaran Area. According to him, he surrendered his backpack to a big, burly man with a gun. My book was in that backpack. Geez, I wouldn't wonder if one day, I'll just see some big, burly guy using my signature while reading The Kite Runner. All I can say is, a good read does not, and should not discriminate, hold-uppers included.

· I finally got to finish a full novel in Spanish, thanks to Ms. Allende. Yes, it took eight months for me to finish it, but it was worth it, albeit headaches and my trusty Bantam Spanish-English dictionary growing dog ears. Also, I had to settle who I wanted Zorro to be in my imagination - Christian Meier, the current Latinamerican telenovela version, or good 'ole Mang Tonio Banderas. Good thing I got to finish the book before my mind would entertain thoughts of Richard Gutierrez being Zorro as he would be in the upcoming Philippine telenovela. Lo siento, Richard G., pero Zorro es un hombre, no es un niño. Oh yes, hardbound copy was bought in the kasagsagan of NBS Cutprice 2007 for PhP99.00 and has been gathering dust until April of 2008.

· Mario Vargas Llosa has this penchant for broken timelines and lead characters narrating which is so messy for someone like me, who prefers order in his novels' narratives. Both Feast of the Goat and Time of the Hero proved to be challenges which ended with me feeling rewarded for braving 'em both.

· Yes, as much as I devoured anything Stephen King in high school, The Shining, was, for some universal glitch, the only book I haven't read. That is, until last year. My eyes were transfixed at the shiny, shimmery cover of the paperback copy I bought at Booksale MCS for PhP65. I downloaded the movie and saw it first before reading the book, and the book still wins, although the movie had its merits, being Kubrick-directed, Nicholson-starred and all.

· Q and A was one book I've always eyed in Powerbooks and Fully Booked years before, and I my hands got into action faster than you can say "Slumdog Millionaire" when I saw a copy of it December 2007 in the discount bin of Powerbooks Megamall. I read it in New Years and was confident that the book was movie material. Fast forward November and I began seeing teasers of a new Danny Boyle movie about an Indian slum dweller who wins in a game show. That got me superduperexcited. After watching the movie, I have to say there's no comparison (considering the storylines diverge at some point). Both movie and book are tops on my list. Tip: I saw another copy on sale in Powerbooks Megamall for PhP200++ last month. It's probably gone by now.

· The White Tiger is a Christmas gift from the best person in the world upon my oh-not-so-subtle hints that I haven't seen a copy of the Booker Prize winner in a local bookstore and all ebooks are crappy. Come to think of it, this is my 6th (?) Booker Prize book, the others being: The English Patient (bought myself), In the Line of Beauty (bought myself), The Inheritance of Loss (given by Angelo), The Life of Pi (given by mom), and Midnight's Children (bought myself).

· Only last year did I finally recognize Mark Twain's genius. And what genius it is. I was so entertained by Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer. For 100 bucks, not bad… not bad at all.

2008 Favorite Albums List

2009-01-03T03:48:00.000-08:00

Julieta Venegas, MTV Unplugged (2008)
I don't really like Julieta Venegas' songs for some reason. Upon listening to this album though, she earned a fan in me. I like the stripped down, basic sound of the album. Well, it is unplugged, after all, thus, thanks to the MTV bosses for getting Srta. Venegas to play for them.

Concha Buika, Nina de Fuego (2008)
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful voice. The songs have a very honest and organic tone to them.

Nena Daconte, Retales de Carnaval (2008)
After the breakout year that was 2006, Nena Daconte is back and better than ever. More beautiful and catchy songs in this album. Not bad for a former concert tour bassist and a reality show reject.

Monica Naranjo, Tarantula (2008)
LA DIVA REGRESA! The Spanish answer to Madonna is back after a 7 year hiatus, and more fierce than ever! The two released singles, Europa and Amor y Lujo, alone are worth having Tarantula. The thing about Monica is she manages to be relevant as she ages without looking like she's trying to push back time. Before the Material Girl's fans throw stones at me, let me say: Madonna still rocks, and I believe her music will continue its, but she is 50 already. Do I really want to see her in leotards singing Hung Up and 4 Minutes five years from now? She'll be 55 by then, and... Hey, I'm not being a prude but as of press time, even the make up, botox, and the toned -ceps are showing signs of freakishness. What more in 5 years? But I'm predicting a Madge image change in late 2009 - 2010; betting my bottom dollar on it.

Estopa, Allenrok (2008)
I've liked Estopa before, I love them now, thanks to Allenrok.

Juanes, La Vida es un Ratico (2007)
The songs in this album are less radio-friendly, a little "darker" than the songs in the previous album "Mi Sangre." Juanes is love.

Camila, Todo Cambio (2007)
This was my soundtrack for the first months of 2008. Pure schmaltz and sentimentality for the tragedy that was the first quarter of last year.

Vanesa Martin, Agua (2006)
The album that lifted my spirits after the storm. Lovely songs.

Daddy Yankee, Talento de Barrio (2008)
This is the first Daddy Yankee album I really liked. The irritatingly redundant Gasolina finally gave way to Pose and other very sleek and memorable tracks. Well, not to mention DY's...

David Demaria, La Fuerza de la Voluntad (2007)
This made me appreciate Demaria more. The 2nd disc in this compilation features inspired duet versions of Demaria's hits, probably inspired by Miguel "Papito" Bose.

Coldplay, Viva la Vida or Death and All His Friends (2008)
The only English language album that left a mark on my year. If Chris Martin is indeed a plagiarist, he is a plagiarist with good taste and a pulse for hits.

Eros Ramazotti, e2 (2007)
A 2nd compilation album chronicling released singles since the first compilation came out in 1997, it's a testament on how fast Sr. Ramazotti is in collecting hits. The 2nd disc features Eros accompanied by the London Orchestra to almost goose-bump effect.

56 days on pause

2008-12-15T04:19:00.000-08:00

It's not that I have lost the drive to blog. I've just been very busy (with work) and very lazy (to do anything else). Thus, the last decent entry on this blog would be the death of Mr. Clean, "written" (more like cut and pasted) over a month ago.

I have 15 (and counting) entries that were saved as drafts, all unfinished. The problem with putting ideas in the back burner is that they get stale, and when I got my mojo back last night to update my blogs, I found the incomplete entries irrelevant. I suddenly panicked, as I thought I would feel the same way about my previous published entries. Fortunately, I didn't. I even thought some entries still rocked, sending a wave of nostalgia over me (woeeeeeeeeewe). So, what have I learned from this?
(1) Making time lapse isn't always a good thing, daaaaaah. I guess it's good for wounds (physical and emotional), kimchi, and wine. But not good for people who depend on speed and for ideas.
(2) Not blogging was a welcome respite. A month of keeping things to myself and free from the urge to throw caution into the wind and let the whole world know what I think had its own merits...
(a) not that I think the world gave a rat's ass, and/or
(b) not that I wrote anything libelous and/or libelous.
(3) I miss blogging and reading other people's blogs. Yes, of the 56 days that I was out of the blogosphere, I've also unconsciously missed reading my blogroll. It also helped that some weird glitch in the office's internet connection made the multiply website, which accounted for a substantial amount of my blog lit, un-display-able (as in the effing idiot page would read "This page could not be displayed."). Finally, last week, by some unknown miracle, aforementioned idiot page did not appear when I got curious of an entry by a friend, as her multiply page suddenly materialized when I clicked on a link from the e-mail updates I get. Same thing happened with my Gmail, which "could not be displayed" for the whole month of October. So I guess my may-sa-maligno computer/internet/whatever has its "flavor of the month." I have yet to figure out which website will be its victim for December, as I've been through much of my frequented websites, and I have yet to see "Page cannot be displayed."
For the curious, yes, my zest for reading non-multiply blogs got extinguished along with the multiply debacle. That's just how weird I am.

So, what have I been doing for the past couple of months?
(1) Getting used to my new job. I have always thought that people who said that promotions only entail bigger responsibilities are talking hogwash. I always considered the financial aspect, so I thought the pay raise would compensate for the additional responsibilities. NOT. The pay raise is not directly proportional to the additional tasks. Not in my company. Well, I think work doesn't really get fully compensated with money in general. Money can try, but there are a lot more things to consider, including time. Opportunity costs, whatnot, I guess I got a little overwhelmed. But hey, my learning curve is up for anything. Bring it.
(2) Becoming a full-blown download pirate. A barrage of exquisite movies from the past year has finally come out of hiding, thanks to the American awards nomination season, including my current multiply banner, Slumdog Millionaire. There are, of course, TV series to be followed, too.
(3) Becoming more responsible with Chico, the dog. More on that later.
(4) Work, work, work, and work. Or hadn't I mentioned that already in the first point?

On that note, I have to go back to work. I hope I won't have to wait for another 56 days again for the muses of the computer keyboard to grant me the willpower to finish a new entry, so help me God.

O.M.G.

2008-10-06T06:13:00.000-07:00

LOS ANGELES - House Peters Jr., a TV actor who became the original Mr. Clean in Proctor & Gamble's commercials for household cleaners, died Wednesday. He was 92.

Peters died of pneumonia at the Motion Picture and Television Fund Hospital in Los Angeles, said his son, Jon Peters.

The elder Peters' most memorable role came as Mr. Clean — a muscular man with a bald head, a hoop earring and a no-nonsense attitude toward dirt and grime. From the late 1950s and into the early 1960s, Peters Jr. helped advertise the famous household cleaner with the trademark jingle, "Mr. Clean, Mr. Clean."

I never thought he was a real person. Well, Mr. Clean, I ain't afraid of you now. Rest in peace.

It's the end of the world as we know it (or at least, as Wall Street would like us to believe)

2008-09-29T07:43:00.000-07:00

Friend after looking at a newspaper headline: Ano naman ang kinalaman ng Unchained Meloday sa ekonomiya ng mundo?

Me stares at her blankly.

Friend: Lehman brothers? Kumanta ng Unchained Melody? HELLO????

Me wonders why I'm having this conversation.

Friend, because she has to have the last word: Lehman Brothers lang, di mo pa alam? Daaaah. (rolls eyes)

Me starts praying for more pressing matters, like world peace and lunch.

Random musings on this day of our Lord, the 19th of September in the year 2008, a.k.a more than a a week after my 29th birthday (pt. 3)

2008-09-19T01:38:00.000-07:00

As a kid, I was never scared of the usual stuff kids were scared of. I like the darkness, it may give me the creeps sometimes but not to a point when I get pee-in-the-pants scared. Nor was I scared if monsters in the closet or under the bed, insects, reptiles, or any mythological, make-believe, or unidentified creature of folklore. Blood, death, or anything related to the macabre were, at a time, more fascinating and intriguing than frightening. School bullies bored me, and I think I also bored them eventually.

But that didn't stop me from being scared of Mr. Clean.

I couldn't remember, for the life of me, how I started getting frightened of him. Yes, I WAS scared of Mr. Clean, as in the hunk of a bald guy wearing an immaculately white muscle tee, with white eyebrows, an earring, and a sinister smile. I do remember, though, a life-size likeness of him, made out of cardboard and whatnot, guarding the entrance/package counter of this grocery store my mom and I frequented, because it was next to the jeepney loading station for City Heights (aka geriatric neighborhood I blogged about earlier), making it most convenient for us to buy last-minute groceries. Mothers have it in their genetic code to sense their children's fears, so my mom tells me to wait outside if she has to buy something in the store. This was 1980s Bacolod - kidnapping was not in in anyone's vocabulary, just starvation and the threat of looking like a Batang Negros (refer to earlier thread). If I wanted to come inside the store to drive my mom crazy and beg her to buy me chocolate or some nutrient-deficient snack with a free toy, I would drag her as hard as I can and run like it's nobody's business while avoiding Mr. Clean's steady gaze.

I remember feeling overwhelmingly relieved when, sometime in 1985 ( I was about to turn 6), we passed by the store and Mr. Clean was missing. I finally got to see what the package counter attendant looks like, with my mom assuring me that he has been in charge since 1983. I remember getting a puzzled look from him, as he may have probably thought that I was scared of him. For the first time in the history of my family shopping on that store, I was free of anxiety, far from getting a juvenile heart attack.

(to be continued)

Random musings on this day of our Lord, the 16th of September in the year 2008, a.k.a a week after my 29th birthday (pt. 2)

2008-09-16T02:11:00.000-07:00

feeling: long weekend hangover (I celebrated Cheusok, suckers)!!! But I'm good, I'm feeling light and not overwhelmed by the delayed start of my work eek
song: Abriendo caminos, Diego Torres y Juan Luis Guerra (to supplement my easy, breezy mood)

Come to think of it, when I was in kindergarten, I was more proficient in Chinese, both in Mandarin and Fookien than in Tagalog. I learned Chinese the whole afternoon, complete with Bible verses to memorize (I was studying in a Chinese Baptist school, o ha???), the family tree (paternal uncles and maternal uncles are called differently), and the multiplication table come the 2nd year of kindergarten (up until table of 3). My Tagalog was honed by ear, thanks to Pong Pagong, Kiko Matsing, Ate Sienna, Kuya Bodgie in Batitbot, and later by Kuya Germs and his battalion of That's Entertainment starlets. Of course, I had to learn Filipino (at the time when the school subject was stilled spelled with a P; I've forgotten when DECS [so '80s, aren't they called DepEd now?] ) in grade school, which coincided with my transfer to a school that didn't really stress on Chinese education (think Xavier). Thus, my Chinese took a nosedive. To think I was the 1st student with zero Chinese ancestry to finish on top of the class in Chinese. So, now, in a 100% scale, I can only understand 30% max, with contextual clues, and read, write, and speak... 5%. Oh, what a waste!

Looking back, I'm grateful though that I was exposed to different cultures at an early age as it cultivated my interest in foreign languages and the like. Maybe I should give that Ateneo Professional Schools brochure a second look.*

* APS (Salcedo Village campus), in partnership with the Confucian Institute, is offering Mandarin lessons in different levels.

Random musings on this day of our Lord, the 8th of September in the year 2008, a.k.a my 29th birthday (part 1 of 29)

2008-09-07T20:08:00.000-07:00

I am currently feasting on a slice of melon, a cheese spread sandwich, and a pitcher of orange juice. This brings me back to my kindergarten days, back to when life was still mundanely easy and I could still count the years id my existence with the fingers of one hand. also, I remembered the woe I would cause my mom when I would come home from school with my lunch box still containing an uneaten peanut butter sandwich and a tumbler full of orange juice, untouched. See, I manifested early signs of obsessive-compulsive behavior (read: homosexuality) by refusing to consume anything that is not color-coordinated. Thus, a peanut butter sandwich should go with chocolate milk, a cheese sandwich must be paired with orange juice, and milk, preferably Anchor (Nido and Birch Tree made me wanna puke), was to be drunk at lunch with white rice and whatever viand.

My fixation with colors ended one day when my mom, in a sermon which probably lasted for an hour, but for a 6 year-old kid felt like the whole afternoon, showed me a picture of the infamous batang Negros.

(not the precise picture, but you got my point, I hope)

For '80s kids, the Batang Negros, with ribs poking out and a bloated stomach, was every parent's weapon against children who have picky appetites. Alas, as much as I did not like mixing colors, I didn't want flies and other insects swarming all over me. As THE Mariah Carey once allegedly said, " Whenever I watch TV and see those poor starving kids all over the world, I can't help but cry. I mean I'd love to be skinny like that, but not with all those flies and death and stuff." Thus, my career with colors was cut short. Oh, the possibilities.

I am, I blabber (GRRRRRR!!!!!!!!! and Yiiiipeeeee edition)

2008-08-14T07:59:00.000-07:00

GRRRRRRRRRRRR!
How can one NOT be irritated about this? After throwing copious amounts of praises at the Beijing Olympics opening ceremony, I was greeted with this last Wednesday:

Beijing Olympics: Faking scandal over girl who 'sang' in opening ceremony
(from the Telegraph [UK])
Chinese officials have admitted deceiving the public over another highlight of the Olympic opening ceremony: the picture-perfect schoolgirl who sang as the Chinese flag entered the stadium was performing to another girl's voice.

At the last moment a member of the Chinese politburo who was watching a rehearsal pronounced that the winner, a girl called Yang Peiyi, might have a perfect voice but was unsuited to the lead role because of her buck teeth.
So, on the night, while a pre-recording of Yang Peiyi singing was played, Lin Miaoke, who has already featured in television advertisements, was seen but not heard.

"This was a last-minute question, a choice we had to make," the ceremony's musical designer, Chen Qigang, said. "Our rehearsals had already been vetted several times - they were all very strict. When we had the dress rehearsals, there were spectators from various divisions, including above all a member of the politburo who gave us his verdict: we had to make the swap."

AS IF THE FAKE FIREWORKS weren't effing enough, the Chinese one-ups the world again with this. As much as I would like to believe their reasons, I would also like to ask these antique Chinese politburo members,
(1) Do you really think the world wouldn't find out, sooner or later, about this effingly shallow act?
(2) Do you really think the world is that shallow to care about how a 7-year old looks like?
I feel for these two girls. I feel for Lin Miaoke because she will go down in history as the Olympic fake girl, aka the Chinese Milli Vanilli. I feel for Yang Peiyi because she might forever think that she will need to look beautiful for her talent to be recognized. Scarred forever, no thanks to those effing outdated politicians.

For people who seem to be at a loss as to why the Chinese act like they need to go super-duper-all-out-perfect-nothing-could-go-wrong, please read this Newsweek article. It's a very insightful piece on China's national character and its long history of humiliation and self-esteem problems. But hey, NOT ENOUGH REASON TO TREAT THE REST OF THE WORLD LIKE RETARDS!

* * * * * * * *

YIPEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

No work tomorrow for me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Tomorrow is Gwangbokcheol, aka Korean Liberation Day. It's Korea's national liberation from Japan in 1945. On this day, Emperor Shōwa announced surrender and World War II was ended. On the same day of 1948, the government of the Republic of Korea was established. The word "Gwangbok" means "restoration of light". LONG WEEKEND FOR ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And oh, a Chinese ad made me end my day with a smile. CLICK!

I am, I blabber (Park Taehwan, Park Taehwan, puro na lang Park Taehwan edition)

2008-08-11T12:09:00.000-07:00

So...

Yesterday, I spent the whole day blending with my bed as I spent Saturday "working" (Fine, surfing, but that's part of the job jejejeje). I was so tired from last Sat's OT that I woke up 6PM Sunday. So reminiscent of Cervini Hall days minus roommates. I immediately logged on and caught up with what has been happening to the rest of the world while I was in deep slumber. Phelps bagged a gold, 7 to go, Bernie Mac's dead, Korea has a swimming medal, GMA and the Philippine contingent received 2 seconds of media coverage in the opening ceremonies, people are dying by the hundreds in Georgia. OK, moving on, why is effing facebook keeping on kicking me out?

Fast forward to 2PM, Monday, as I called my first student in my prerequisite 12 disciples before I move on to other duties (like waiting for The Pretenders torrent to finish downloading), I was greeted by an eruption of estrogen as evidenced by unstoppable girlish giggles. Then, Rosa, my favorite disciple, whose fluency, intonation, and accent I've raised hell and high water to perfect, relapsed to her Korean twang and wailed,
"Teeeeeaccccchaaaaaaaaa! Teachhaaaaaaaaaa.........ahuhhhhhhhhhhuhhhhhhhhhhhhahhhhh."

Teacher Me:Uhm...? (*&%E&^PU (TC (521+604!!!!^<>? KA!!! Plano mo bang maging Korean version ni Emily Rose??? No, kailangan bored facade. Mantra: nothing excites me, nothing excites me, nothing excites me. BWAKANANGPREKPREK KA.) Yes, darling, anything wrong?

Emily Rosa: Teachuhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Park Tae Hwan! Gold medal! So cute! So man! So... teachuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

Teacher: (Nakamputakte ka. Nag-iinit sa lalake). Yes, Rosa, well... how was your weekend?

ER: Huh? Teacher, you didn't hear me? I said, Park Tae Hwan! Won a gold medal! Teacher!!! He's so handsome! So cute! Hard body! Man!

Teacher: (Buhusan kaya kita ng malamig na tubig? Gugukuh.) Oh yeah. I read that in the news, Rosa. He won a gold medal. He's great, huh?!

ER: But, teacher, he's so... HOT!

Teacher: (Hija, sorry pero dehins ko type ang mga Koreano, at sa kahit anong chekwa-looking peeps (refer to archive), hayaan mo, kung type ko siya, malalaman mo. Kung alam mo lang kung gaano kalantod ang teacher mo, masmakati pa sa isang pungos na dahon ng gabi.) Really, well, Rosa. You're 14 years old. He's...

ER: 19, teacher! 19!!!

Teacher: Well, Rosa, we better get to our lesson, before um-ma catches you having crushes on a guy.

ER: Teacher, mom does not know English. Park Tae Hwan, mmmmmmm. I want to go to Beijing now, teachuhhhhhhhhhh!

Teacher: (Wala na to.) Rosa, turn your book to page 40. (FIRMNESS is the key to success.)

The succeeding 10, thank God, were businessmen and professionals who are more interested in discussing the plight of Korea's soccer team. Finally, it was down to Des, short for Desdemona, a name for Park Jee Na. Low beginner, hirap pakibagayan, sarap hang-upan paminsan-minsan, manic-depressive, minsan super hyper, minsan teacher monologue. Uhm, yah, the teacher, your truly, in one of his bouts of irritation, gave her her very Shakesperean (?) English name.

Teacher: Hey, Des, what's up? How was your weekend? (10 minutes, matapos ka na, may poan patch pako with Bancoober. At manunuod pakong opening cermonies ulit sa youtube after. BILIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Des: Weekend... great. Watched Olympics. Korea has a gold medal. Park Tae Hwan everybody loves.

Teacher: Yes, I heard that. Park Tae Hwan must really be popular now.

Des: Teachuh, Park Tae Hwan, my boyfriend.

Teacher: ... OK, Des, let's now go to our lesson, OK?

After 9 minutes,

Teacher: Oh, Des, we don't have much time left, what will you do after our class?

Des: Dream of boyfriend Park Tae Hwan.
Teacher: Oh, Des, gotta go now. Bye!

ANAKAMPUTAKTE.

ANOHHHBAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Ano bang itsura ng lintik na Park Tae Hwan na yan at nagsisikatihan ang mga usually reserved, docile, and shy students ko??? Napuno na tenga ko!!!

Wikipedia: Park Tae Hwan is a 19 year old Korean swimmer who participated at age 15 in the Athens Olympics, where he got disqualified. Since then, he had won the World Championships for the 400 M Freestyle event.

Me: Impressive. But no, spell J-A-I-L-B-A-I-T, all-caps, in italics and bold letters. Now, let's look for pictures, nang matigilan na ang mga naglalarong katanungan sa isip.

Ahhhhh... OK... may itsura.

Then...

O. M. G.

The guns on this boy. CHEST KUNG CHEST. Palaparan kung palaparan. OK Fine. Magkakasala na me! Step aside, Enchong Dee!

FINE!!! Dearest students, I concede. He is A-DORABLE. And an OLYMPIC GOLD MEDALIST, too. HOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

To see more Taehwan, click, click!

I am, I blabber (Olympic edition)

2008-08-09T13:42:00.000-07:00

How about that opening ceremony, huh?

I was at a loss for words for a while! Spectacular, amazing, jaw-dropping, dazzling do not begin to describe what the Chinese did! The Mar Mediteraneo number of Barcelona, the Temple of Zeus tribute in Atlanta, the colors and fireworks of Sydney, and that hot drummer man in Athens were no match to the razzle and dazzle of the performances in the Beijing opening. The square drums with lights when you tap them! 2008 square drummers! The glow in the dark sticks! The Confucian disciples! The tutubi and alitaptap girls! Fireworks kung fireworks! What was not to like?

I have to say though, the highlights of past Olympic games still hold a candle to some of the not-so-good parts of the Beijing spectacle. I think:

the BEST THING IN THE BEIJING PROGRAM:

That countdown rocked!!! I've read that some people found the production too precise, choreographed, and militaristic to be considered artistic. Well, the ceremonies were in Beijing, capital of the People's Republic of China. Last time I checked, they're still communists there (with a market economy, thank you). Besides, Zhang Yimou directed the show. Lintik lang ang magkamaling galitin si Yimou.

FASCHEON HEADGEAR:

The American berets have my vote. The French were in hats, Passe.

Oh yes, lest I forget, the Canadians were in fisherman hats last 2000. Cute!

BEST OPENING VIDEO:

No words needed for the Greek in 2004, just drum beating. He's so... intense. Ay, ano to? Ay, laway ko. WOOF!!!

BEST IN FASCHEON:

Pakulayan!!! Both in Sydney 2000, the Japanese wore tie-dyed ponchos while the hot Italians were in summer-colored pants and skirts. As Cecille Zamora says, so chica.

BEST IN DRAMA MOMENT:

The athletes of the 2 Koreas marched together in 2000. Collective sigh now.

BEST OLYMPIC FLAME MOMENT:

The sheer genius and drama! The crescendo of the musical score highlighted the breathtaking precision of Antonio Rebollo, an archer who happens to be paralympic. 4 olympics have passed but nothing has beaten Barcelona 1992. The Spiderman-ic running on the walls action in Beijing got a little loooong and the musical score waited for 8:08, I guess, as the flame already reached the effing cauldron before the music swelled. Puff, so much for highlight.

Guess what, he did the same feat last year! This was to celebrate the 15th year anniversary of the Barcelona Olympics. Señor Rebollo, 15 years older, complete with bald spot, paunch and glasses, but still increible! OLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

HOTTEST FLAG BEARER EVER:

How can anyone top Prince Felipe from being the hottest flag bearer of all time? Elegantly handsome, athletic (he was in the Spanish Olympic sailing team, hindi siya nagdala ng bandila dahil feel lang niya), and an effing prince. At that time, he was 24. His sister, (Infanta) Elena cried when he entered the stadium. Ako, maiiyak din ako kung kapatid ko siya. ;p

I've searched high and low, but unfortunately, I couldn't find a decent pic, so I have to make do with this screen cap. For the unconvinced,

WOOO!!! MADRE MIA! VIVA EL PRINCIPE!!!!!!!!!!!

I am, I blabber (Beijing welcomes you, me, and everyone daw o! edition)

2008-08-09T13:41:00.000-07:00

Yes, the Olympics has awakened the blogger in me!!!

I saw this song (open in a new tab/window, bilis!!!) being performed "live" on youtube, of course, by the artists in that 100 days before the Olympics fiesta they had in Beijing. Dave texted me about the song, so I got curious-er, and viola! There was a music video na pala!

Notes/observations/blabberings:

I follow Chinese-Asian show business so I identified some familiar faces: Chen Tian Jian (the kid who sang the first lines, who sang at the closing ceremonies of the Athens games, in the Beijing teaser portion), Liu Huan (the guy who sang yesterday with Sarah Brightman donning what I thought looked like a v-neck shirt [did he nga ba, sure looked like one to me... the nerve!!!]), superfave Stefanie Sun, Wang Lee Hom (last seen in Tony Leung's sexcrobatic, este, Ang Lee's Lust, Caution), Gigi Leung (Turn Left, Turn Right *insert collective sigh here*), Jolin Tsai, Bibi Zhou, Karen Mok (of ZA cosmetics/So Close fame), Eason Chan, Jang Nara (Korea, represent!!!), Nicholas Tse, Vivian Hsu (Hang Ten before Katrina Halili, anyone?), Chris Li, Valen Hsu, Jane Zhang, 5566 (syempre kilala ko kase "kalaban" ng F4 jejejeje), and Sha Baoliang (SUPER JUNIOR!!! Korea represent, pt. 2!!!). Aba, ang dami kong nakilala!!! Weeeeeeeeeeeee (ala Pong Pagong)! (Pat on the back, pat on the back). Well, apparently, China and the hua kiang (overseas Chinese) do not lack in star power. Oh, yah, I forget Jackie Chan, who IS Jackie Chan, who has been adorning the pedestrian underpasses all around the fair city of Makati with Olympic VISA card promo material.
Oh yes, Ms. World is in the video! Zhang Zilin is at 4:48, the girl making chika/singing with her kumares at teatime. Wasn't her answer in the final Q&A in the Ms. World last year about her ardent desire to participate in the Olympics? O ayan, girl, natupad na pangarap mo. Nasali ka pa sa all-star cast! Lupit mo!!!
Wei Wei (1:50) is from Hothot, Inner Mongolia. She is said to be China's greatest singer of the modern era. She has been named "China's Whitney Houston", "China's Madonna" and "China's Celine," by the usually reserved and anti-Western-alluding media. She was born in 1963. That makes her, yes, 45 years old. HOW CAN SHE LOOK LIKE THAT AT EFFING 45??? HOT!!!!!!!!!!!
Fave ever Stefanie looks healthy with cute Chinese children around her. Good.
As I've mentioned earlier, this is a pan-Chinese effort. So, not only Beijing/Chinese artists are present, artists from Singapore (Stefanie!), Taiwan (Valen! Vivian! 5566! [oo nga pala, cross-strait relations are getting warmer), HK (Nicolas! Karen!, Eason!), and even Korea (Na Ra! Super Junior!). There's even a Tibetan (Han Hong, the healhy woman in 0:48, who, by Philippine standards, resembles what would be an offspring in an Aiza Seguerra - April Boy Regino union). Didn't the monks excommunicate her or something??? But wait, no Japanese? Hmmm.... intriguera me.

Sub-point: It's so cute to see artists from HK and Korea sing in Mandarin. Weird, but good weird

What happened to Nicolas Tse (3:52)? He looks old all of a sudden. The scandal must have took its toll on him. Yes, the Edison Chen thing, remember? After all, his wife headed the photo count with 143 sizzling pics. Poor him. But well, he's back, at least. Trivia: Nicolas Tse and Cecilia Cheung (the aforementioned photo sl*t) got married in, of all places, our dear country, the RP, secretly. Kristine-Deither, anyone??? Kamalasan dulot ng bansa naten. Jejejejeje.
Eason Chan (2:24), what happened to you as well??? Para kang kagigising na tinipus.
Supergirls, REPRESENT!!! My 3 beautiful (but not so feminine. except Jane) Super Girls, Jane (4:50), Bibi (1:40), and Chris (3:33) prove that there's life after winning reality singing shows, particularly the Mengniu Yoghurt Super Girl Contest. I've blogged about this contest before, kayo nang maghanap. Chris looked more feminine than ever (no spiky blonde hair???? Yan na ata ang fullest extent ng pagkafeminine nya). What the heck is Jane doing? Making paper doll mache churva??? Bibi still looks like a Chinese Aiza, and is still my fave among the three. Oh well, big deal ang manalo sa contest na ganito sa China. After all, it's only through these contests that the Chinese exercise their right to sufferage. Super sikat these girls that Chris has a commemorative stamp with her face in it. Can you top that, Yeng? ;p But wait, they're all from the 2nd season, aka the androgynous macho supergirls season. What happened to the first season girls??? The third seson girls??? To my fave Baby Zhang??? :(
Wang Lee Hom (4:45) looks so... HANDSOME. No other word can describe him in the video. HANDSOME. If he was handsome in Lust, Caution, he added another level to his handsomeness in this video. He's left handed, too. He's doing calligraphy. How I miss doing Chinese calligraphy, the messiness and stinkiness (of the ink) included. Mao pi, I miss you!!!!!!!!! Going back, was that his handwriting in the scroll? Handsome, multi-talented, left-handed. Wet dreams, anyone???
Karen Mok = posera. 2 linya na sinabayan ng pagpoproject at pagstrike ng pose.
Jay Chou is not in this song. :( :( :( He did a song for the Olympics though. Search for it in youtube. BILIS!!! Also F4. Aren't they like the penultimate Taiwanese boyband??? Ba't 5566 ang nandito???
There's another song for the 1 year countdown, entitled "We are ready" with more or less the same artists. A little cheesy; I like this one better.

ENJOY as Beijing welcomes the rest of you and Wang Lee Hom welcomes me. HAHAHAHAHA. * crosses fingers that they will perform this in the closing ceremonies * Yeah right, tapos na nga, magwewelcome pa??? Mashadong wishful thinking ako. Ba't naman kase sa closing ako pupunta. GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR. Lee Hom, wait 4 me (parang textmates lang). ;p

I am, I babble (AZSCHUMEIRA edition)

2008-07-28T06:14:00.000-07:00

Today is the 28th day of July, in the year of weekly oil price hikes, 2008.
Mdme. Cutie Cute Cute Shorty (that's the President) delivered her SONA hours ago. Nothing to be excited about. 40% the fruits of VAT, 30% other achievements, 20% future plans, 10% blah. What else is to be expected?

Clincher line of the day:
"As your President, I care too much about this nation to let anyone stand in the way of our people's well-being. Hindi ko papayagang humadlang ang sinuman sa pag-unlad at pagsagana ng taong bayan. I will let no one – and no one's political plans – threaten our nation's survival."

HALA! Narinig niyo 'yun? Narinig niyo? Magatago na kayoooooooo!
Next.

* * * * * * * *

But wait, apparently, there's more!
Mdme. CCCS proclaims,
"Mula sa buwang ito, wala nang income tax ang sumusweldo ng P200,000 o mas mababa sa isang taon – P12 billion na bawas-buwis para sa maralita at middle class. Maraming salamat, Congress."
HWWATTTTTTTTTTT????? YESSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!! Yoohooooooooooooooo! Mabuhay ang Ate GLO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Weee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ay, wait.

PhP 20,000 * 12 = ...

Shet.

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

* * * * * * * *

Azschumeira - noun, a person who loves assuming things, spelled with an zsch for a European feel, and an ei for a Portuguese lilt.

That'd be me, le gran azschumeira, after prematurely celebrating during Mdme. CCCS' Taglish SONA. Alas, my pathetic Math skills got the better of me, as I began to calculate what wonders an additional PhP2,000++ would do to my shopping budget! A more Math-proficient coleague was quick to burst my midday fantasies minutes later, informing me that one's basic salary must be at below PhP16,666.66 to be included in the tax-free thingy. Crap.

Goodbye, PhP2,000.++ Yan kase, Azschumeira (with matching huge A in my forehead).

* * * * * * * *

Azschumeiraism has invaded the office as well. Office gossip (don't we just love it?) has been revolving around these two personalities who we shall call Golden Boy and Golden Girl. Golden Boy will be called such because of his blond tresses (not peroxide-aided, thank you). Golden Girl will be GG because she might as well be part of that late 80's sitcom.

GB is head-over-heels in love with this office "hunk" which we shall call Paparazzi. When he got wind that the news of him and him have travelled across departments, he got all the more excited, claiming that it is his "15 minutes of fame OF fortune."

Meanwhile, GG, in a drunken stupor, confessed her desires for another officemate, to be called Don, in front of a lot of people, in, of all places, the office after-work tambayan. GG is at least 15 years Don's senior. Tongues should have stopped wagging there, considering the popularity of Demi-Ashton, Mariah-Nick, and Vicki-Hayden romances these days. The plot takes it turn for the gross when one considers GG'S "reputation" as the bible-thumping, "I-love-going-to-church-and-I'll rub-it-in-your-faces" mother of 2 Sunday school-going teenagers who happens to be enamored with a guy that just got married and has had a live-in partner for 5 years prior to the aforementioned marriage. Matters get downright icky when, after confessing her love and devotion, GG cornered Don to have coffee with her, and, within earshot of some officemates who were in the vicinity, exclaimed such barf-inducing statements as, "Don, I swear, kung di na kita makikita, ipapakidnap kita!" and "Sa 40+ years ko (a woman must never divulge her age), ngayon ko pa lang naramdaman ang intellectual orgasm."

POOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOTA. (Sorry, no other reaction suffices).

These, from a self-appointed bastion of virtue whose favorite hobby is to remind women chatting in the pantry not to talk about their menstrual cycles (as such topic is not proper for educated women).

After the drama of last week, Paprazzi, who had alarmed everyone's gaydar since Day 1, has cleared the air by asserting his butchness (DI NGA??????????) by saying he has a girlfriend (in other words, "take that, biotch, papatol din lang ako sa bading, dun na sa masmayaman at masguapo). Don, for his part, demanded, albeit in a diplomatic manner, that GG shut up, 20 minutes after that declaration in the office tambayan.

As of press time, GG has gone AWOL and GB slashed his wrists last night. Having not seen any marks on his wrists, I therefore conclude that it was just a publicity stunt. Dangerous as it may to play doktor-doktoran/dunung-dunungan, I have also diagnosed GG as being delusional and pathetic and GB as histrionic.

Both deserving of the grand title AZSCHUMEIRA!

* * * * * * * *

Speaking of press releases, last Friday's emergency landing of a Qantas airliner en route from Hong Kong to Melbourne in Manila was talked about earlier. A quirky conversation went on like this:

Me: Parang katakot naman magfly. Kahit QANTAS na exag ang safety record, may mga ganun din pala.Officemate: Oh well, at least, nalagay naman ang Pilipinas sa balita.Me looks at OM with an "Are you serious?" expression?
OM: OK lang yan noh, basta namention ang Pinas, go!
Me: Pano kung namatay ang mga pasajero, e di natagurian na naman tayong malas.OM: Well... kung namatay e di dadami ang mga kamag-anak na pupunta dito, o, e di bongga! Dadaming tourist.

Me cannot believe he is a part of this conversation.

Filipinos = starlets. Bad publicity is still publicity. Hayok sa atensiyon. Basta malagay lang ang pangngalan.

LTNP (Long time no post)

2008-04-09T01:42:00.000-07:00

Well, well, well, it’s my first time to log into my accounts after more than a week! I miss blogging already! It’s been a busy last week at work that I didn’t even have the time to blog about Ramiele’s departure from AI. I say she had it coming. After choosing one bad song after another, it was time for her to go. I’m still a fan, though.

Things I'm doing now:

Listening to Marc Anthony's songs from the albums Mended and El Cantante and thinking why he sounds increible en español and ghastly in English.
Organizing photos from last December's trip (DOLOR!!!! I never thought this could be so taxing. I've never been a procrastinator, and the first time I try being one, the consequences slap me like a mean biatch. LESSON LEARNED.)
Waiting for 'em downloads to finish. Finally, Children of Heaven (the Iranian film)!!! Priceless (the new Audrey Toutou film)!!! Flawless (the new Michael Caine/Demi Moore critically-acclaimed film)!!! Naissance Des Pieuvres (aka Water Lilies, a "sexy" French film I want to see)!!! The Diving Bell and the Butterfly!!! They're currently at 70%. DOLOR!!! The wait's killing me! Good thing my download of Infernal Affairs was lightning fast and is now ready for my viewing pleasure. Yipee!!!
Finally, finally, finally furnished a copy of Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam, the first Aishwariya Rai film I watched. The movie is so beautifully shot, typical of Bollywood films. The colors! The textures! The feline grace of Ash! The screeching voices of Alka and Kavita!!!! What's not to love?
Watching American Idol's Top 8 ep. Wow, I loved KLC's performance. No sarcasm mixed. Song choice was perfect, she looked beautiful, and the singing was OK. It scares me to say this, but I actually don't want her to go home this week based on this performance. David Cook didn't work for me this week. Contrived with "give back" written in his palm. Schmaltz. It was a very strong week for almost everyone (Given that KLC gave a really good performance, that should be an indication! lol) Carly was a little out of the theme. I have to agree with Simon; it was too dark to be inspirational. Also, I loved the Paris Bennett version better. Carly was angry, but no grit. She always has passing marks from me vocally, but I always have an itty bitty problem with her credibility in her songs. She has a Celine Dion vibe in her vocal (full and soaring), but when Celine sings, I believe every word, with matching chest thumping and vocal calisthenics. When Carly sings, I have difficulty believing her song. I was finally starting to believe her last week with her amazing rendition of the Dolly Parton song, but this week, something's missing again. Hmmm....

Things to do:

Buy an Eee PC. My major gadget crush has turned into a major gadget lust. I have to have it by this month! However, having it by this month would mean a month's savings for the Mexico trip reallocated. Sheesh. Priorities, priorities. OK, gadget lust trumps wanderlust.
Open a Landbank savings account. I got scared of a horror story by an officemate who's sister's SSS account was used by another person. When she wanted to apply for a loan for the first time, she was informed that she can't do so anymore because she had acquired a loan already. Damn. If somebody were to use my SSS account for loan purposes, that'd be me, me, and me alone. SSS releases loans through a Landbank account. Once I have my Landbank account, here I come, SSS!!! Loan to be used for trip. Current savings to be used for gadget purchase. There is order in the (my) universe. YES!!!
Print my ebooks on Italian or Russian language learning. I wanna speak Italian or Russian now.
Look for a copy of El Orfanato (The Orphanage), one of last year's scariest (with a heart) movies. Of course, the Oscars snubbed this Foreign Language entry from Spain, along with a host of other amazing flicks (Persepolis, Lust Caution [disqualified???], 4 months, 3 weeks, 2 days). My copy screamed PIRATED so I'm looking for a better version.
Decide if I will go to Puerto Galera this May. 60% of me have decided on no. I need a unanimous decision.

Random mysteries yet to be solved:

Why is Ali Mall STILL under renovation? The last time I visited Ali Mall when it was NOT under renovation was in 1999, after an AdMU-DLSU game, I think. Since then, I accompany my mom on visits to the said mall because it houses the nearest PAL office, where my mom buys her return ticket to Bacolod. Through the years, a substantial portion of the mall is ALWAYS undergoing some sort of facelift. I understood the need for a renovation during the late '90s...well, actually, I can still see the need for a renovation up to now. It just bothers me how this renovation has been going on for like close to 10 years already. WHAT GIVES? 8 years of renovation and the place still looks like... nevermind. I'm saddened by this, remembering very memorable summers in Cubao, where Ali Mall played a not-so-small part.
Why is it that despite being in the typhoon belt, our country has not buried its electricity cables underground? Why is MERALCO so fond of putting posts and connecting them with wires that get cut and are rendered useless by signal #1 typhoons? Electricity wires and posts are EYESORES and are so ineffective. They are only good for one thing: as space for politicians to plaster their posters when election season comes. It's irritating to see a beautiful tree-lined street like Reposo aesthetically destroyed because of these dangling wires. SO EFFING THIRD WORLD. Ang hirap na nga ng Pilipinas, ang panget pa. Gimme a break.

Toba Tek Singh, a short story

2008-04-02T09:06:00.000-07:00

Saadat Hassan Manto was the master of the Urdu short story, controversial as he wrote about sex, incest and prostitution. He was tried in Pakistani courts for obscenity, died in penury of alcoholism at the age of 44. The force, unflinching honesty and hard-edged realism of his writing have warranted comparisons to d.h. lawrence. Below is “Toba Tek Singh,” a Manto short story that encapsulates the horror and confusion of India’s partition in 1947. I first read this in The Vintage Book of Modern Indian Literature edited by Salman Rushie. Take time to read it. It'll just take around 10 minutes. Enjoy!

Two or three years after the 1947 Partition, it occurred to the governments of India and Pakistan to exchange their lunatics in the same manner as they had exchanged their criminals. The Muslim lunatics in India were to be sent over to Pakistan and the Hindu and Sikh lunatics in Pakistani asylums were to be handed over to India.

It was difficult to say whether the proposal made any sense or not. However, the decision had been taken at the topmost level on both sides. After high-level conferences were held a day was fixed for the exchange of the lunatics. It was agreed that those Muslims who had families in India would be permitted to stay back while the rest would be escorted to the border. Since almost all the Hindus and Sikhs had migrated from Pakistan, the question of retaining non-Muslim lunatics in Pakistan did not arise. All of them were to be taken to India.

Nobody knew what transpired in India, but so far as Pakistan was concerned this news created quite a stir in the lunatic asylum at Lahore, leading to all sorts of funny developments. A Muslim lunatic, a regular reader of the fiery Urdu daily Zamindar, when asked what Pakistan was, reflected for a while and then replied, “Don’t you know? A place in India known for manufacturing cut-throat razors.” Apparently satisfied, the friend asked no more questions.

Likewise, a Sikh lunatic asked another Sikh, “Sardarji, why are we being deported to India? We don’t even know their language.” The Sikh gave a knowing smile. “But I know the language of Hindostoras” he replied. “These bloody Indians, the way they strut about!”

One day while taking his bath, a Muslim lunatic yelled, “Pakistan Zindabad!” with such force that he slipped, fell down on the floor and was knocked unconscious.

ot all the inmates were insane. Quite a few were murderers. To escape the gallows, their relatives had gotten them in by bribing the officials. They had only a vague idea about the division of India or what Pakistan was. They were utterly ignorant of the present situation. Newspapers hardly ever gave the true picture and the asylum warders were illiterates from whose conversation they could not glean anything. All that these inmates knew was that there was a man by the name of Quaid-e-Azam who had set up a separate state for Muslims, called Pakistan. But they had no idea where Pakistan was. That was why they were all at a loss whether they were now in India or in Pakistan. If they were in India, then where was Pakistan? If they were in Pakistan, how come that only a short while ago they were in India? How could they be in India a short while ago and now suddenly in Pakistan?

One of the lunatics got so bewildered with this India-Pakistan-Pakistan-India rigmarole that one day while sweeping the floor he climbed up a tree, and sitting on a branch, harangued the people below for two hours on end about the delicate problems of India and Pakistan. When the guards asked him to come down he climbed up still higher and said, “I don’t want to live in India and Pakistan. I’m going to make my home right here on this tree.”

All this hubbub affected a radio engineer with an MSc degree, a Muslim, a quiet man who took long walks by himself. One day he stripped off all his clothes, gave them to a guard and ran in the garden stark naked.

Another Muslim inmate from Chiniot, an erstwhile adherent of the Muslim League who bathed fifteen or sixteen times a day, suddenly gave up bathing. As his name was Mohammed Ali, he one day proclaimed that he was none other than Quaid-e-Azam Mohammed Ali Jinnah. Taking a cue from him a Sikh announced that he was Master Tara Singh, the leader of the Sikhs. This could have led to open violence. But before any harm could be done the two lunatics were declared dangerous and locked up in separate cells.

Among the inmates of the asylum was a Hindu lawyer from Lahore who had gone mad because of unrequited love. He was deeply pained when he learnt that Amritsar, where the girl lived, would form part of India. He roundly abused all the Hindu and Muslim leaders who had conspired to divide India into two, thus making his beloved an Indian and him a Pakistani. When the talks on the exchange were finalized his mad friends asked him to take heart since now he could go to India. But the young lawyer did not want to leave Lahore, for he feared for his legal practice in Amritsar.

There were two Anglo-Indians in the European ward. When informed the British were leaving, they spent hours together discussing the problems they would be faced with: Would the European ward be abolished? Would they get breakfast? Instead of bread, would they have to make do with measly Indian chapattis?

There was a Sikh who had been admitted into the asylum fifteen years ago. Whenever he spoke it was the same mysterious gibberish: “Uper the gur gur the annexe the bay dhayana the mung the dal of the laltain.” The guards said that he had not slept a wink in all this time. He would not even lie down to rest. His feet were swollen with constant standing and his calves had puffed out in the middle, but in spite of this agony he never cared to lie down. He listened with rapt attention to all discussions about the exchange of lunatics between India and Pakistan. If someone asked his views on the subject he would reply in a grave tone: “Uper the gur gur the annexe the bay dhayana the mung the dal of the Government of Pakistan.” But later on he started substituting “the Government of Pakistan” with “Tobak Tek Singh,” which was his home town. Now he begun asking where Toba Tek Singh was to go. But nobody seemed to know where it was. Those who tried to explain themselves got bogged down in another enigma: Sialkot, which used to be in India, now was in Pakistan. At this rate, it seemed as if Lahore, which was now in Pakistan, would slide over to India. Perhaps the whole of India might become Pakistan. It was all so confusing! And who could say if both India and Pakistan might not entirely disappear from the face of the earth one day?

The hair on the Sikh lunatic’s head had thinned and his beard had matted, making him look wild and ferocious. But he was a harmless creature. In fifteen years he had not even once had a row with anyone. The older employees of the asylum knew that he had been a well-to-do fellow who had owned considerable land in Toba Tek Singh. Then he had suddenly gone mad. His family had brought him to the asylum in chains and left him there. They came to meet him once a month but ever since the communal riots had begun, his relatives had stopped visiting him.

His name was Bishan Singh but everybody called him Toba Tek Singh. He did not know what day it was, what month it was and how many years he had spent in the asylum. Yet as if by instinct he knew when his relatives were going to visit, and on that day he would take a long bath, scrub his body with soap, put oil in his hair, comb it and put on clean clothes. If his relatives asked him anything he would keep silent or burst out with “Uper the gur gur the annexe the bay dhayana the mung the dal of the laltain.”

When he had been brought to the asylum, he had left behind an infant daughter. She was now a comely and striking young girl of fifteen, who Bishan Singh failed to recognize. She would come to visit him, and not be able to hold back her tears.

When the India-Pakistan caboodle started Bishan Singh often asked the other inmates where Toba Tek Singh was. Nobody could tell him. Now even the visitors had stopped coming. Previously his sixth sense would tell him when the visitors were due to come. But not anymore. His inner voice seemed to have stilled. He missed his family, the gifts they used to bring and the concern with which they used to speak to him. He was sure they would have told him whether Toba Tek Singh was in India or Pakistan. He also had the feeling that they came from Toba Tek Singh, his old home.

One of the lunatics had declared himself God. One day Bishan Singh asked him where Toba Tek Singh was. As was his habit the man greeted Bishan Singh’s question with a loud laugh and then said, “It’s neither in India nor in Pakistan. In fact, it is nowhere because till now I have not taken any decision about its location.”

Bishan begged the man who called himself God to pass the necessary orders and solve the problem. But ‘God’ seemed to be very busy with other matters. At last Bishan Singh’s patience ran out and he cried out: “Uper the gur gur the annexe the mung the dal of Guruji da Khalsa and Guruji ki fateh jo boley so nihal sat sri akal.”

What he wanted to say was: “You don’t answer my prayers because you are a Muslim God. Had you been a Sikh God, you would have surely helped me out.”

A few days before the exchange was due to take place, a Muslim from Toba Tek Singh who happened to be a friend of Bishan Singh came to meet him. He had never visited him before. On seeing him, Bishan Singh tried to slink away, but the warder barred his way. “Don’t you recognize your friend Fazal Din?” he said. “He has come to meet you.” Bishan Singh looked furtively at Fazal Din, then started to mumble something. Fazal Din placed his hand on Bishan Singh’s shoulder. “I have been thinking of visiting you for a long time,” he said. “But I couldn’t get the time. Your family is well and has gone to India safely. I did what I could to help. As for your daughter, Roop Kaur” –he hesitated– “She is safe too in India.”

Bishan Singh kept quiet. Fazal Din continued: “Your family wanted me to make sure you were well. Soon you’ll be moving to India. Please give my salaam to bhai Balbir Singh and bhai Raghbir Singh and bahain Amrit Kaur. Tell Balbir that Fazal Din is well. The two brown buffaloes he left behind are well too. Both of them gave birth to calves, but, unfortunately, one of them died. Say I think of them often and to write to me if there is anything I can do.”

Then he added “Here, I’ve brought some plums for you.”

Bishan Singh took the gift from Fazal Din and handed it to the guard. “Where is Toba Tek Singh?” he asked.

“Where? Why, it is where it has always been.”

“In India or Pakistan?”

“In India no, in Pakistan.”

Without saying another word, Bishan Singh walked away, muttering “Uper the gur gur the annexe the bay dhyana the mung the dal of the Pakistan and India dur fittey moun.”

At long last the arrangements for the exchange were complete. The lists of lunatics who were to be sent over from either side were exchanged and the date fixed.

On a cold winter evening truckloads of Hindu and Sikh lunatics from the Lahore asylum were moved out to the Indian border under police escort. Senior officials went with them to ensure a smooth exchange. The two sides met at the Wagah border check-post, signed documents and the transfer got underway.

Getting the lunatics out of the trucks and handing them over to the opposite side proved to be a tough job. Some refused to get down from the trucks. Those who could be persuaded to do so began to run in all directions. Some were stark naked. As soon as they were dressed they tore off their clothes again. They swore, they sang, they fought with each other. Others wept. Female lunatics, who were also being exchanged, were even noisier. It was pure bedlam. Their teeth chattered in the bitter cold.

Most of the inmates appeared to be dead set against the entire operation. They simply could not understand why they were being forcibly removed to a strange place. Slogans of ‘Pakistan Zindabad’ and ‘Pakistan Murdabad’ were raised, and only timely intervention prevented serious clashes.

When Bishan Singh’s turn came to give his personal details to be recorded in the register, he asked the official “Where’s Toba Tek Singh? In India or Pakistan?”

The officer laughed loudly, “In Pakistan, of course.”

Hearing that Bishan Singh turned and ran back to join his companions. The Pakistani guards caught hold of him and tried to push him across the line to India. Bishan Singh wouldn’t move. “This is Toba Tek Singh,” he announced. “Uper the gur gur the annexe the be dyhana mung the dal of Toba Tek Singh and Pakistan.”

It was explained to him over and over again that Toba Tek Singh was in India, or very soon would be, but all this persuasion had no effect.

They even tried to drag him to the other side, but it was no use. There he stood on his swollen legs as if no power on earth could dislodge him. Soon, since he was a harmless old man, the officials left him alone for the time being and proceeded with the rest of the exchange.

Just before sunrise, Bishan Singh let out a horrible scream. As everybody rushed towards him, the man who had stood erect on his legs for fifteen years, now pitched face-forward on to the ground. On one side, behind barbed wire, stood together the lunatics of India and on the other side, behind more barbed wire, stood the lunatics of Pakistan. In between, on a bit of earth which had no name, lay Toba Tek Singh.

Mariah, Mariah

2008-03-22T01:36:00.000-07:00

Mariah, Mariah, Mariah. Mariah is Mariah. After listening to her latest song "Touch My Body" and the lyrics, I can't help but lurrrve her. The song may not showcase the octaves, but MC sure still has the unbelievable-can't-get-it-from-any-other-singer lyrics. No big words this time, but Mariah taps on timely lyrics to remain relevant. At talaga namang relevant kung relevant ang lola! Although I have to say this is one of the, if not the sluttiest, whor-iest song I've heard. I love Mariah but the song is what it is. Definitely for adults only.

Winner lines aka special lyrics for people in relationships with guys who have Edison Chen complexes:
If there's a camera up in here
Then it's gonna leave with me when I do
If there's a camera up in here
Then I'd best not catch this flick on YouTube

'Cuz if you run your mouth and brag about this secret rendezvous
I will hunt you down. (LOVE IT!!! Talagang hunt!)

And could somebody tell me what a "Wendy interview" is? Pardon my ignorance.

There's a stanza where I totally couldn't get the lyrics, thanks to Mariah's air-filled enunciation and heard them as:
Boy you can put me on you
Like a brand new ID
I'll hug your body tighter
Than my favorite jeans
I want you to caress me
Like a tropic MARINE
And float away with you
In the Caribbean Sea

I was thinking, do Marines frisk you when you enter a port of something? And how could somebody be so excited about a new effing ID????

But of course, I got hold of the correct lyrics which totally made me feel stupid. The stanza is as follows:

Boy you can put me on you
Like a brand new white tee
I'll hug your body tighter
Than my favorite jeans
I want you to caress me
Like a tropical breeze
And float away with you
In the Caribbean Sea

Mariah also has a penchant for big lyrics you can't find on song by other artists. Can you name the Mariah songs where these lyrics appear?

nonchalant
compulsively
fathom
steadfastly
obsessively
desolate
dependancy
emblazoned

Like....stuff.

2008-03-11T01:33:00.000-07:00

I might as well be one of the last people in Mega Manila who hasn't written about the hottest scandal to hit Philippine blogosphere. Yes, I am talking about the jilted gay Aussie lover who's now demanding his $70,000 back from a society writer-social butterfly-alta de sociedad ex-BF. The latter might as well include fugitive to his credentials as apparently, the guy is hiding somewhere. As for the Aussie, he has opened a can of warms, exposing the nasty "truths" of his ex and his creme de la creme (pun?) cohorts. I don't necessarily have an opinion about these scandalous exposes, rest assured that these people have lost whatever credibility and CLASS they have left, attributes I think they didn't really have much of in the first place. I don't personally know these people, so I abstain from judging them of whatever wrongdoings they've been accused of. But really, these people have loads of prime newspaper space for their "columns," and their articles suck. No, I am NOT dreaming of replacing them in their columns; I can name two or three more interesting and competent writers who can do better, though. Also, I think this serves as a wake up call for people here in our dearest country who act like they're in New York: stop the matapobre-ewww-this-country-is-so-gross-we're-much-better-than-the-rest-of-you act! You're in the Third world! Wake up and smell the Pasig (river).

* * * * *

I was so busy with some stuff last Friday that I didn't find the time to drop my two centavos re: the American Idol top 12. I agree with most of the eliminations. I would have loved it if Divanny Noriega was not cut. Too bad. No more attitude in this group. Also, Asia'h and Kristy Lee were neck and neck at the bottom of my books so I guess any of the two wouldn't have made a difference. Well, I would've preferred Asia'h to stay. But like duh, America loves country music. All my faves got in, so, everything's still cool in my AI world.

* * * * *

"Eto, ahmmmm....wait!" has officially replaced "I personally believe that US Americans" as my favorite beauty contest quote. Mabuhay si Janina San Miguel! JSM for President! JSM for UN Secretary General! JSM for Gucci Gang Kingpin!!! JSM for Miss World (You Decide!) 2008!!!

I actually thought a suggestion from some random person in youtube (?) made sense - with Janina's new-found celebrity, I'm sure she would have been a hit in Miss Universe, not Miss World. The Donald (Trump, Miss U franchise owner), after all, LUUURRRVVVES this kind of publicity. Or any kind of publicity, for that matter.

* * * * *

I'm Mac, and I'm a mahjong addict.

Yes, last weekend, I spent a good 10 hours in front of the computer honing my skills with real deal HKers chatting in their 這是太我無法瞭解的排匯物重金屬 (&&*^$*(**^ language. But then, I did start winning a few games.。那是好的!

Yes, pwede na kaming maglaro nina Maggie, Tony, Tang Wei, and Joan Chen! Hahahahaha. Eto, ahmmmm...PONG!

* * * * *

With the Aussie guy's blog and Ms. San Miguel's display of Q&A prowess, Filipino bloggers are having hay days galore.

Eto...Ahmmm...WAIT!!!

2008-03-10T01:31:00.000-07:00

Last Saturday, the annual circus of beauties, Binibining Pilipinas, did not disappoint in providing priceless entertainment to the Filipino masses. In particular, the question and answer portion is the yearly event's highlight, not just because it separates the wheat from the chaff, but also because it doesn't fail in having "did that just happen?" moments. This year, the prize goes to Janina San Miguel. The girl was definitely toppled Ms. Teen South Carolina from the bauty pageant booboos top spot.

No, I am NOT asking beauty pageant contestants to have perfect grammar and pronunciation. All I'm asking from them is to be prepared and not use their age and/or lack of experience as excuses for their foul-ups. Is that still too much to ask?

I guess it is. Hoe, my God!!! OH WELL... But hey, all's well that ends well because guess what, THE GIRL WON!!!! Here's a transcript, and click here for the the video:

PB: Number 15, Janina San Miguel! Janina, how are you?

JSM: I'm fine???

PB: All right, so you won 2 of the major awards, best in long gown, best in swimsuit...do you feel any pressure right now?

JSM: No, I don't FEEL, any PRESSURE, right NOW (in an oratorical tone).

PB: Confident! All right, please choose a name of a judge. We have ... Ms. Vivienne Tan.

VT: Good evening.

JSM: Good ev-ning.

VT: The question is, "What role did your family play with you as a candidate to Binibining Pilipinas?"

JSM: Well, my family's role for me...is so important, because... there was the...they're...they was the one...who's... very...ha ha...oh I'm so sorry. My PAMILY...my family...hoe my GOD!!!

(Background coaching from PB: Pwede mong iTagalog...Pwede mong iTagalog.)

JSM: OK. I'm so sorry...I... I told you that I'm so confident...ETO...ahm...wait....ah ha ha ha ha...ahm...sorry guys, because this was really my pirst pagent ever...because I'm only 17 years old...and...ah ha...I...I did not expek...that I came from...I came from one of the taff 10...UMM! (intonation: Gets nyo mga bakla? Oo na, kinakabahan nako!!!) so...but I said...DOT...my family...is the most important persons, IN MY LIFE (oratorical tone again). Thank you.

PB: All right! (tone: Ta*g*na natapos din) Candidate number 15, Janina San Miguel! Thank you!

6 weird things

2008-03-04T01:30:00.000-08:00

(1) I can't sleep in an unmade bed. When I was in the university dorm and no one waited on me, I had to make my bed at least 10 minutes before I plan to sleep. Then, sleep.

(2) I don't go around snooping for useless things to know. Not anymore. I have stopped that habit after memorizing all of the world's capital cities at age 9. Since then, useless information have ways of getting into my system without much effort. And they stick like epoxy to my brain.

(3) My psyche does not require me to eat seafood. I eat them when they're available. Their absence won't mean the death of me. I have had cravings for crustaceans before, and that's it.

(4) Western musicals have a weird effect on me. They make me laugh. I find people bursting into song weird. The only musicals I appreciate are those from India, Evita, and the Baz Luhrmann epic Moulin Rouge. They're too dazzling to make me laugh. Maybe I'll appreciate stage musicals when I finally see Lea Salonga. Hmmm....

(5) I'm allergic to aspirin. Which is like what you're supposed to take when you're allergic to everything else. I'm doomed.

(6) I have a weird way of using chopsticks. It works for me and me alone. When I was in Taiwan, I was so resistant to people teaching me the right way of using it, they gave up.

Before a new week begins...

2008-02-17T01:13:00.000-08:00

According to Bill Lamb of about.com, "Touch My Body" was put together by Mariah and the team responsible for Rihanna's phenomenal success with "Umbrella," Christopher "Tricky" Stewart and The-Dream. The upcoming album has been renamed E=MC2 and is due in stores April 15, 2008. The album's name reminds me of Eros Ramazotti's compilation album. What's with the formulas? E=MC2 ??? Emancipation = Mariah Carey squared???

Anyway, can't wait. Heard the single, readily available for listening in Youtube (the song mentions it!), as it has been converted into loads of fan videos, and I have to say the song ain't bad. Quite racy, actually. But well, what do we expect from her? Mariah IS Mariah, raciness, octaves, and loads of air (in her voice), all in good measure.

As mentioned in an earlier entry I made use of the weekend for movie watching. I started 2003's Goodbye, Lenin for the 4th (?) time starring my spirital husband Daniel Bruhl. Finally watched The Tin Drum in keeping with the German theme. Before I turn into a frankfurter and whatever-wurst addict, also watched The Home Song Stoies. Joan Chen delivers the performace of her career as an unstable mother, based on the director Tony Ayres' mother herself. With the prior performances I've seen of Ms. Chen (Taipan, Heaven and Earth, Lust Caution...Judge Dredd, anyone?), I've considered her acting too technical or studied, in the league of Jodie Foster, of which I'm not really comfortable with. But in this movie, she just nailed it, and how! Sparkling with truth! The boy who played her son, John Lok, is so charming and cute as a button, and made his presence felt and remembered among his more experienced co-stars. More on that in a longer review. Anyway, it's a beautiful film.

Also included in my movie marathon was The Band's Visit, a charming film of an Egyptian soldier band getting stuck in Israel. Charming! Finally, I got to watch Selda in Robinson Galeria's Indiefilm. The film takes a different twist in talking about sex and homoseuxality, topics Filipino indie movies have been quite fond of tackling these days. The performances are applaudable. Ara Mina didn't disappoint. This girl can actually act; she did prove it before in that small film with Jomari Yllana (the one about tourist guides, the name of which escapes me as of the moment, not their trashy bed flicks). After the aforementioned bed flicks, and especially that irritating performance in Mano Po, which still gives me headaches everytime I remember it (both the performance and those bangs), she has slowly redeemed herself in my book, save for her real life (mis)adventures serving as tabloid fodder, sampu nang kanyang kapatid na parang nakabotox (hindi gumagalaw/walang expression ang mukha habang nagsasalita...naaalibadbaran ako). Emilio Garcia evokes a Heath Ledger-ish mood as the mayor of a jail cell who falls (In love? In lust? The film gives the viewer the chance for thinking. Yes, a Filipino movie can do that!) with fresh meat played brillantly by Sid Lucero. I'm sure Mr. Garcia's performance would have been much appreciated by someone I know who saw no fault in his dancing skills when the actor was a contestant in ABC 5's Shall We Dance. As for Sid Lucero, .... Sid Lucero. Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay. Captivating in Donsol, and now this. He has cemented himself as my other S.H. Only when Daniel Bruhl is busy.

Gonna be a manic (?) week again..... Happy Monday!

P.S. (Belated) happy birthday to Prime A.

It's (insert adjective here) to be back in your hometown

2008-02-12T01:12:00.000-08:00

What's quite cool about working as a teacher online is having holidays when your students want to stay stupid. It gets better when you teach students abroad, because you celebrate holidays of their countries and you get double pay to work during Philippine holidays. I mean, who cares about that EDSA thing when you get to go to the office hassle and traffic free and you get to have an ultra-long weekend from the 6th to the 10th for Seollal, or Lunar New Year? Happiness!

So, I decided to surprise my family, whom I haven't seen as a whole for two years , by going home. Pro: lots and lots of R&R. Con: loads of food, as there is absolutely nothing to do in Bacolod other than stuffing oneself with calories way over RDA limits. With hunger killing countless victims in destitute places, I know it may be audacious to put food as a con. But try visiting Bacolod and you'll get my drift. The only other activity is trying to burn excess calories by walking the long stretches of Gaisano, Robinsons, or the relatively new SM mall, the latter my mother chose as the site for my one-and-only consented TSABS appearance.

TSABS - (pronounced as tee-sabz) to see and be seen appearance. A term coined by my first officements and I to call that almost-perfunctionary public appearance a probinsyana/o who has been away when s/he comes back to her/his province, to function as a walking trophy by his/her parents and be a walking billboard to remind everyone that they are being graced by the presence of someone fresh from wherever. It is always assumed that the TSABS-er has made it big wherever s/he has been, or else s/he wouldn't have the face/nerve/guts to display her/himself in public. Also, it is assumed that the TSABS-er will greet, kiss, smile, or acknowledge the presence of everyone, from long-lost relatives to unrecognizable kindergarten classmates, or stand the chance of getting branded as thinking too highly of her/himself to socialize with small-town nobodies. Thus, the TSABS-er must strike a prefect balance between looking spiffed and chic (or else be plagued with "Yun ba ang galing Manila, ba't parang namulubi?" looks) and being Ms./Mr. Congeniality (or else beauty parlors the next day will abound with stories along the line of "Abaw, ang bata ni ***** nag-abot, daw si sin-o na guid. Nakatapak lang sa Manila wala na guid gapamugno, daw namenusan na guid di sa aton.")

My sister survived her TSABS ordeal years ago when she came back from Manila and decided to work in Bacolod. She's not all ma-chicka and the works, she breezed through her homecoming after the first week by smiling and teenybopper-ing her then 25-year old self around town. I, on the other hand, am awkwardness personfied. I so happen to be every family's TSABS nightmare. People who know me should know that I'm NOT the best in quick friendship-building and superficial relationships unless my dear life depended on them. Heck, I'm awkward with anyone I haven't seen in 3 days, how much more with people I haven't seen since I was in my Trinity Christian School uniform? I spent every college Christmas vacation hibernating in my home; unavoidable family get-togethers are dealt with an hour's guest appearance. High school reunions? I honestly don't have time for them, especially when a rare Maggie Cheung movie is shown on Star Mandarin and I'm thinking I'd be stuck with Studio 23 in Rosby's/Dave's TV when I get back to Cervini. Yes, I have been called anti-social. You, dearest reader, are most probably not. We live in a diverse society. That's what makes the world such an interesting place, cue swelling orchestra music. To make it crystal clear, unless you are Daniel Brühl inviting me on a date, DO NOT bother trying to get me out of my house during my oh-so-rare visits.

Also, unless you're my mom telling me to get my lazy ass out of my bed and get fresh air.

I don't think my mom is aware of the TSABS phenomenon. If she is, I'm sure she is fully well-aware of her son's allergy with it. Thus, when she tells me to see the outdoors, she comes especially equipped with subtle hints of me getting new stuff. I may have adapted to life here in Manila, true, but it actually is all the more reason for me to fully appreciate the language of FREE. As far as I am concerned, the only appropriate responses to free would be "yes," "of course," and "why not". Responses to the opposite would be downright rude. Otherwise, invitations to go to malls in my dear city "just for the heck of it" have been answered by yours truly with reactions ranging from looks of autistic ignorance (Mall? *me stares into space*) to blatant statements of "In Manila, I eat, watch movies, shop, and undergo most of my existence in malls , and you want me to go to a mall here, too?"

Thus, on the 4th day of my surprise visit, with my mom equipped with the language of free, I succumbed. Not proud of it, but alas, my defenses crumbled. It was a Saturday afternoon, so the mall was filled with people. I saw some old classmates, who I thought were looking at the opposite direction. I didn't bother. I broke ruler no. 2 of TSABS. I don't care. As for rule no. 1, I did try to look presentable though. I psyched myself for a possible paparazzi attack; I wouldn't want pictures of me looking ratty splashed across the tabloids. Humor me.

I did see a lot of familiar faces, I didn't put on the Ms. Sunny Sunshine visage. I don't want to come across as too assuming. What if they aren't who I thought they were? Spare me the embarrassment! On with the TSABS! Enter Prodigal Son sans drama! Enter Serena van der Woodsen! Enter the Count of Monte Cristo! Enter me!

I saw somebody though. My first school crush. Oh dear, I actually held my breath! Oh, the tingling sensation. Aforementioned crush was in a different year, so we were never classmates. But it sure made my day to see the person. The sight of crush was a calm oasis amidst the bullying, irritating teachers, more irritating classmates, and most irritating lessons. The Chinese-ness of our school showed every time we had to enter class by forming effing lines, whether it be after morning assembly, after recess, after lunch, after every frigging time. But I didn't mind that much, as it was a chance to see crush. Enter Twilight zone/Mao Zedong propaganda music for some readers who might be creeped out at this point, but for me it was always birds chirping, squirrels coming out of their burrows, and Snow White in coloratura soprano singing "I'm Wishing."

SO. EFFING. HIGH. SCHOOL. *Sigh*

Tugging along crush was with two chubby toddlers. Twins. So cute and cuddly. Looks exactly like crush. Two steps behind was another familiar face. My mom followed where I was looking and told me about crush having a family and being an architect and all.

TAKE ME BACK TO MANILA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hallmarks of a decadent high school

2007-12-12T01:10:00.000-08:00

(from a blog I frequent; how I wish I had been in one of 'em really posh high schools jejejeje):

- administration refers to students as 'clients'

- Bose loudspeakers

- ATMs outside each classroom

- afternoon tea served with organic Madagascar cane sugar and creme de la creme

- mink pelt chalkboard erasers

- headmaster is Sultan of Brunei

- Hermes uniforms

- mahogany humidors hold ornate cherry wood pencils

- students give teachers Faberge eggs as Christmas presents

- cafeteria eating utensils include demi spoons and cheese forks

- most common punishable offense is double parking Bentley convertible

- biology taught out of original hand drawn Audubon books

- field trips include behind-the-scenes tours of Sotheby's

- students choose between scribes and stenographers for note-taking

- electives taught in Queen's English, and 'football' class in Cockney

Movies, More Movies, Shakira, and Math

2007-11-02T00:56:00.000-07:00

The past weeks have been filled with more pop culture stuff than I could afford (monetarily) and take. Things started with September's Spanish Film Festival, which coincided with a personal soap opera too tragic to tell (gwaaaaaaaaaark). All in all I only saw 2 films - AzulOscuroCasiNegro and Salvador. The former was brilliantly acted - very Spanish. Through the years of watching foreign movies, I've noticed that Spaniards have a different way of acting. It's almost melodramatic-bordering-on-Judai/Claudine-territory but in a raw manner. It may not make sense but there's just sometime about the way they act that seems so real but very emotional as well. The lead, Quim Gutierrez, has good crying skills. I found his crying very...effective. He has this wounded look, with matching eyes brimming with tears, before he finally lets them fall. Magaling, magaling, magaling. Little did I expect that the melodrama in the movie was a premonition of the that was about to unfold in my own life. Oh, well, it's over and done.* Moving on...

Meanwhile, Salvador shows the final moments of Catalan anarchist Salvador Puig Antich (pronounced as pooj antick), the last person arrested and executed for reasons under the dictatorship of Francisco Franco. Salvador was played endearingly by German-Catalan actor Daniel Bruhl. Tristan Ulloa did fantastic as the lawyer who went through hell and high water (even speaking to the pope) to obtain pardon from Franco, to no avail. How tragic, juxtaposing this to some presidential pardons recently given here roundabouts, just like that. Tragic, indeed (both Puig Antich's life and how Daniel Bruhl is... ideal. *sigh*)

* * * * * * * *

At least, I got to watch quite a number of movies at last week's Cineuropa at Shangrila. I watched:

Shooting Dogs, a British film about a veteran priest and an idealistic English teacher who both got stuck in the middle of the Rwandan genocide in the early '90s. The movie showcased how stupid human beings can be and how some parts of the world have not progressed in mentality. It was inspiring to see an article in a news magazine (Time or Newsweek, I forgot) about Hutus and Tutsis have started to rebuild Rwanda into one of Africa's fastest rising economies, without killing each other. John Hurt as the priest was sublime and Hugh Dancy as the English teacher was dreamy. If only I didn't have Claire Danes' mental image while thinking of Mr. Dancy. Claire Danes is such a.... never mind. By the way, unlike Hotel Rwanda, which was filmed in South Africa using South African actors, the film was shot in the original location of the scenes it portrays. Also, many survivors of the massacre were employed as part of the production crew and minor acting roles.

a Spanish film called El Viaje de Carol (Carol's Journey) about an adolescent girl from New York who went to her mother's country, Spain in the middle of Franco's rise to power. Overheard from a viewer after the screening: 'Parang Baby Love na shinoot lang sa España.' (Baby Love, Peque Gallaga's [or was it Lore Reyes'] movie on young love starring Anna Larucea). There were 2 or 3 contrived scenes, but the film as whole wasn't that bad.

a Czech film called Meeting the Enemy that had me reeling after. The whole premise of two soldiers from enemy camps philosophizing on the existence of life after death and the essence of war was just too Philo 101 and 102 for me. It was a good film, not for the shallow, or people looking for shallow entertainment. Nosebleed. Also, 2 1/2 hours of a movie set in snow in a cinema where the A/C's working full blast was not that great an experience.

Summer with the Ghosts, an Austrian film. The height of teenybopperness. This is certainly not your usual horror film. Dancing ghosts, all actors speaking like they were in a play (everything sounded rehearsed) and everyone speaking like they were Wolfgang Puck. Not a horrible movie, but there was just something askew.

Dead Man's Hand (Petites Miseras), a Belgian (Waldoon?) film about a solicitor (aka embargador) who has issues working with his goody-two-shoes police escort and his wife, who turns into a shopaholic as a means to get attention and gets impregnated by her shopping mentor, who also happened to be her husband's best friend. I liked the film (as opposed to love). The Bjork/Citizen Dog sequences of shoppers and clerks bursting into song and dance are not that novel anymore. The scenes worked, albeit only for a moment.

a Belgian (German? Waldoon?) movie, The Kiss (De Kuss), about a young girl from a dysfunctional family who falls in love with a pimp. The pimp waits until the girl turns 16 before he "breaks" her and gives her to his boss, while the clueless (by this time, irritating) girl plots her escape from her weird family and plans her entrance to a dance school, supposedly with the pimp's help. Well, if all pimps looked like that Dutch actor in the movie, it's no surprise why young girls get into the flesh trade.

the classic Czech film Closely Watched Trains, about a railway employee whose obsession was to get it on with a girl, as he hasn't done it yet. Alas, he got lucky, but in the end, got killed while planting a bomb in a train full of Nazis. Moral lesson: you can either kill Nazis or lose your virginity, not both.

* * * * * * * *

I was waiting in line at the counter of KFC Makati Ave when Shakira's ode to her moneymaker (no, not her boobs, nor her butt), Hips Don't Lie, played on the radio. People in line started singing, particularly a group of people with IDs on a Sunday night, which I easily identified as call center agents (working on a Sunday with IDs????)**. Well, they were rowdy, as only people in their early twenties and in groups can be. I turned nostalgic and remembered the days when I was as rowdy as them, when one of them snapped me back to reality as she channeled Randy Solis and Prime Asprer (reigning lyrics divas extraordinaire) and transformed Shakira into Ms. Magoliman*** and proudly sang at the top of her screeching voice (with matching belly moves):

I'm on tonight
You know my hips don't lie
And I'm starting to feel it's right....uhhh....
ADDITION, UHHHH.....SUBTRACTION
MULTIPLICATION, DIVISION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WHATHEFUCKKKKKKK! I swear, the other people waiting started with puzzled looks and then, suppressing their snickers while her companions kept quiet, stat, the way people around you suddenly attempt to deny your existence if you do something utterly embarrassing in public, like fart, or trip on all fours. I'm sorry I couldn't suppress my laughter on this one that I had to fish out my cellphone and pretend to be reading a hilarious text message. Di bale nang mapagkamalang baliw, huwag lang ma-identify sa lyrics diva. Poor girl had to tone down the energy levels, turn tomato red, and wait for the pinaglihi-sa-pagong-at-3-toed-sloth KFC server to give her her order.

To the curious and obsessive-compulsive, here are the correct lyrics:

And I'm on tonight
You know my hips don't lie
And I'm starting to feel it's right
All the attraction, the tension
Don't you see baby, this is perfection

In fairness, her lyrics and the correct ones both have words ending in -tion, which reminded me of the late great Yoyoy Villame, who had a song with a lot of words ending in -tion.

Moral lesson: SHUT UP when in a public place and a Shakira song is playing, as you are bound to embarrass yourself (from singing wrong lyrics to doing weird gyrations).

* * * * * * * *

* Maybe, I will write something about that soon..

** To any call center professional reading this, this ain't a CSR dissing blog. I love CSRs. I love the call center industry. Besides, I was one before (a CSR, that is, not an industry).

*** Ms. Magoliman was my Grade 2 Math teacher who taught the class how to sing Mathematics is A LOTS OF FUN (to the tune of Father Abraham), much to the chagrin of our well-loved English teacher:

Mathematics, is A lots of fun,
Lots of fun are in Mathematics.
1 and 1 is 2
2 and 2 is 4
AND ALL OF US ARE BRIGHT.

(Wow, if only algebra and trigonometry were that easy too.)

This teacher took 1/4 of her time teaching us and 3/4 of the period telling us stories of ghosts, white ladies, and other characters of Philippine folklore. Our Math class was an itty bit multiplication table (it was grade 2, after all) and most of the time Magandang Gabi Bayan Todos Los Santos episode. When she ran out of tales to tell about bagat and the like, she started telling us strategies on how to feign sickness and be absent. One of her suggestions was to stick a whole clove of loosely grounded garlic up your anus until you feel yourself burning and pretend to have fever. One of more adventurous and lazy students actually did the trick and got sent to the Head Master's office. I didn't see that teacher the following school year; we really didn't wonder why.

One night, in a quiet neighborhood....

2007-09-14T00:47:00.000-07:00

Pasado alas-once at pauwi ako nang mapansin ko na lahat ng tao sa neighborhood ay nasa labas ng kani-kanilang bahay. Bigla akong kinabahan. May sunog? May pinatay? Sinaniban ako ni Gus Abelgas at nakiishmukuy.

Biglang may sumigaw galing sa pinakadulong bahay.

Still unidentified voice: Hoy, Gerry!!!! Lumabas ka dito!!!! Sisirain ko ang pinto!!! Mayaman ako ngayon at puede kong sirain ang pintong to. Tang&(%^$ mo!!! Lumabas ka.

Upon closer inspection, nakilala ko ang sumisigaw as Gerald, kapatid ni Gerry. Kilala ko sila dahil may sari-sari store sila, kung saan ako bumibili ng RC (so probinsya!) Si Gerry ay isang karpentero. Si Gerald ay isang extra. YES, AS IN EXTRA SA MGA TV SHOW. Masyado ata niyang dinidibdib ang mga Star Magic acting workshops. Anyway, I asked neighborhood chikadora (who happens to live next door, that's why I'm ultra behaved; mahirap nang maging pulutan) who has an uncanny resemblance to THE Christy Fermin)

Me: Te, anong nangyayari jan?

Ate Chikadora: Hay nag-aaway yung magkapatid.

Me (thinking to myself, "Duh, obvious ba????"): Bakit ba?

AC: Ah kase, si Gerald, hiniram ang sapatos ni Gerry, binalik, putikan. Eh alam mo naman si Gerry, maingat sa gamit.

Me: Ohhhhhhhhhhh.

Me to myself: Oo nga, halata naman mas malinis itong si Gerry, si Gerald the actor, mas may itsura nga, pero mukhang parating gusgusin naman. But no, does this merit a public scandal? FRIGGING MUDDED SHOES??? But no, eto na ngang si Gerald ang sumira ng sapatos, siya pa ang galit! Meanwhile, AC was reading my expression and offered an explanation.

AC: Kase pinagkalat daw ata ni Gerry na sinira ni Gerald ang sapatos niya kaya di siya makapagbasketball. Hayon di sila lahat nakapagbasketball. Nainis yung mga katropa ni Gerry, di kinausap si Gerald. Kaya si Gerald ngayon tong galit.

My brief interview with AC was interrupted as apparently, Gerry had come out of their residence to confront his drunk brother. RAMBOL NA E2!!!!

Asawa ni AC: Hala, awatin natin!

Dahil maingat din ako at ayokong mabasag bungo ko, sumama lang ako para magka-closeup view ng mga pangyayari. Sumama si AC at si Donna, anak ni AC at ang iba pang mga kapit-bahay mula sa masmalalayong bahay. Tumigil kami mga 50 m. Ang mga cargyng barako + Kuya asawa ni AC, dumiretso para awatin ang magkapatid.

Me: Teka, nasaan na ba si Tita Elsie?

Tita Elsie is the matriarch of the clan.

AC: Ay, kanina pa nag-collapse.

Background: Tita Elsie is a legend when it comes to collapsing and the art of it. Mapa bisita ng Meralco para putulan sila ng kuryente (di nagbayad), ang kehaba-habang pila sa COMELEC registration (hinimatay daw dahil sa init), at ang pag-amin ni Kris Aquino na kinaliwa siya ni James, lahat cause for a fainting spell.

Tita Lucy (one of 'em neighbors, tindera sa palnegke): Hay naku, makatawag na nga ng tanod.

Tita Susan (one of the more promiment neighbors): Tatawag ako ng police.

Pagbaling ko ng atensiyon sa rambol na nagaganap, tagumpay na naawat ng mga lalake ang magkapatid. With matching declare na ang Gerald na "OK na ako, OK na ako." Medyo humupa na ang crowd nang konti nang bigalang umingay. Tumuakbo pala itong si Gerald sa bahay at dinampot si Emily, ang asawa ni Gerry. HOSTAGE E2.

Gerald: Tang*(^% mo Gerry. Sasakalin ko tong asawa mo kung di kita mabugbog!!!!

Balik takbo ang mga lalake para awatin si Gerald, ngunit nakaposisyon na ang mga kamay nito sa leeg ni Emily.

Gerry: Tang*^% mo Gerald. Pakawalan mo si Emily. Mag-usap tayo.

At last, dumating ang tanod with matching wang wang sound effects emanating from their jeep. Papunta na ang mga tanod para panghambalusin ng batuta si Gerald nang umentra amidst the crowd (na naka office attire pa) ang younger sister na si Rina, isang sekretarya sa isang recruitment agency sa Malate.

Rina: STOP IT!!!! Mga kuya (addressing the tanod), umuwi na kayo!!!! THIS IS A FAMILY AFFAIR!!!!

LUMAKI ANG MGA MATA KO!!! HINDI DAHIL SA EKSENA, NGUNIT DAHIL SUDDENLY SPOKENING DOLLAR BIGLA E2NG SI GARGUELAYNE.

Rina again: This is a WAR... A WAR between brothers. We'll fix it inside. Sige na, magsiuwian na kayo!!!! WE DON'T NEED NOSY NEIGHBORS!!!!!!!

I SO WANTED TO DO CARTWHEELS. WAR!!! BETWEEN BROTHERS!!! INDAY, IS THAT YOU?????? I was half expecting her to start saying, "Alms, alms, spare me a piece of bread..."

Nadisperse ang crowd. Pumasok ang mga actors and actresses sa loob. Naiwan sa labas ang sabit na si Emily, still gasping for breath.

Another evening in the neighborhood.

Kamusta naman...

2007-09-10T00:45:00.000-07:00

Pre-script: Sensya na, gusto kong comfy ako. Wala pako sa English mode. Bukas na yon. For the meantime, tagalog muna, ha? Para parang chika moments lang.

Anyway, kamusta naman....

(1) ang naging birthday ko?

Hayun, tumanda nako. Next.

Hindi, seriously, OK naman talaga siya. So, 28 nako. OK. Salamat sa mga bumati, Ang pagpatay ng brain cell(s) dahil inisip niyo ako at ang pageexercise ng hinlalaki sa pagtext ng birthday message ay malaking bagay para sa akin, sa totoo lang. Nandito ang nanay ko galing probinsya. Uuwi siya sa Tuesday, and no, wala siyang dalang upo, kangkong, kalabasa or bayong, meron siyang dalang SPAM [???] at mga regalo galing sa mga kamag-anak na hindi rin gulay, ngunit marami ding mga abubot na matatgpuan lang sa lungsod ng Bacolod, nunit di siya nagdala ng tubo o asukal, piyaya meron siyempre]. As expected, nilibot namin ang kalahkhang Maynila kakahanap ng mga bagay na maiiuuwi niya doon sa amin at para makita ang mga lugar na wala doon (Serendra, Bonifacio High Street, Trinoma, Greenbelt at siyempre, ang wala pa ring kupas na Megamall, na di kayang pantayan ng namumusilak pa sa kabaguhang SM Bacolod). Siyempre, tungkulin ko bilang birthday celebrant na magpalibre at magtututuro ng mga gustong regalo para sa sarili ko. Mga naka-4 rin akong turo nang nag-alma na si nanay at biglang tinanong ako kung gusto ko daw bang maglakad pauwi. OK fine. So natigil ako. Nakapanuod rin ako ng A Love Story (kasama si Randy) at Nancy Drew (kasama ang nanay kong may lunal sa paa).

(2) ang walang humpay na paghuhubad ni Aga Muhlach?

Naiinitan siya. Alangan naman magdamit siya habang naliligo? In fairness, hindi naman ako nasuklam sa paghuhubad niya (hayaan natin, nagbibinata) o sa pelikula, in general. Narindi lang ako sa musical score na dapat present sa 80% ng pelikula. Masyado silang natuwa sa musika na ginamit nila ito nang ginamit. Siyempre, Maricel IS Maricel. Si Angelica maganda ang boobs. Ang tambok. Maganda ang hurma at ang placement, hindi masyadong tayo (in otherwords di ginalaw ni doc).

(3) ang Nancy Drew?

Antayin itong lumabas sa HBO or Cinemax. Bilang isang teeny booper (albeit may edad na ng konti), dapat idefend ko ang pagkateenybopper in all forms, including this film. Pero hindi. Made for TV ang feel ng pelikula. Kulang sa character development.

(4) ang paghahakot ng DVD ng Randy, YJ, at ako?

Last Sunday, September 1, nagplano ang YJ at Randy the night before na magtrabaho gamit ang kanilang pangkandong na kompyuter gamit ang libreng WiFi sa Robinsons Galleria. Gaya ng inaasahan, lampas tanghali na nang magising ang mga mokong. As expected, nagmuni-muni pa muna kami ukol sa daig-pa-ang-exegesis-at-God-question-sa-hirap na katanungang "Saan tayo maglulunch?" Alas, alas-4 na kami at nakakain sa Yoo-hoo Metrowalk. At pagkatapos, ay inisip naming 3 kung anong magandang gawin. Napagdesisyunang umakyat sa mga pirata at TUMINGIN ng mga DVD and maybe... buy 1 or 2...or three AT THE MOST.

Sadyang masaya ang pagdidiscover ng mga piniratang DVD. Mula sa pang-akyat namin ng bandang 5, alas7:30 na kami natapos. Ang daming magaganda: TV series, classics, box office hits, and current releases. We got so excited we went from stall to stall, taking 1...2....until almost three hours have passed!

Hayun, ngayon ay namumulubi. Salamat sa nanay ko, nakakain ako ngayon. Jejejeje. But copies of Bunuel classics don't come by that easily.

I'm an itty bitty sad today. I remembered someone's birthday because of the DVDs (ha????? connect???? tsaka close kami???!!!! Jejejejeje). Will write about it next time. For now, kailangan ko munang tigilan ang panunuod ng youtube at nalulungkot lang ako habang pinapanuod ang mga video niya....hay....memories...young love, sweet love (Kuya Germs????).... may lungkot at saya....Jajajajajajaja. (does the Gualby heart... jajajaja....hayan ha, cited ka!!!!)

You know you're getting old when...

2007-09-04T00:43:00.000-07:00

1. Your houseplants are actually alive.

2. Having sex in a twin bed is out of the question.

3. You keep more food than air in the fridge.

4. 6:00 a.m is when you get up, not when you go to bed.

5. You attend weddings instead of debuts.

6. There are fewer people in the office you call kuya or ate.

7. Your friends marry and divorce instead of “hook up” and “break up.”

8. You go from 130 days of vacation time to 14.

9. Jeans no longer qualify as “dressed up.”

10. You’re the one calling the tanod because those %&@# kids next door won’t stop the party at 3 AM.

11. Your titos and titas ask you when the wedding is.

12. You still remember when Madonna had cones in her boobs.

13. Your budget allocations include rent and utilities, and don't include photocopy - Philo handouts anymore.

14. Your favorite singers have started releasing "Greatest Hits" compilations.

15. Sleeping on the couch makes your back hurt.

16. You take naps.

17. Dinner and a movie is the whole itinerary for Saturday night instead of the beginning of one.

18. Staying up late was something you shouldn't do but you did, anyway.

19. You go to the drug store for ibuprofen and antacid, not condoms and pregnancy tests.

20. A PhP300 bottle of wine is no longer “pretty good shit.” (I remember Maha and Rica with this)

21. You actually eat breakfast food at breakfast time.

22. “I just can’t drink the way I used to” replaces “I’m never going to drink that much again.”

23. 90% of the time you spend in front of a computer is for real work.

24. You drink at home to save money before going to a bar.

25. When you find out your friend is pregnant you congratulate her, instead of thinking of it as THE scandal of the century.

Word for the day: PEAKS (interchangable with its homonym PEEKS)

2007-08-31T00:41:00.000-07:00

Location: McDonald's (branch location withheld)

I was happily munching my quarter pounder with cheese and fries (for only PhP99, promo ends I dunno) with an officemate, discussing the greatness of Manong (the office's guard-lunch provider-sandal/flipflop/RTW/perfume magnate [Burberry Weekend 100 ml for only PhP500]) when I (and later aforementioned officemate) got distracted by the boisterous storytelling of a table neighbor. Yes, he was REALLY loud, considering that tables in McDonald's are arranged comfortably apart from each other (compared to Jollibee) and considering I, owner of the voice that crossed the Guimaras Strait effortlessly, found him loud. Anyway, he tells his companion (and the whole place):

LM (loudmouth): Ewan ko nga ba kung bakit ako umalis dun e.

Companion: (says something in normal volume)

LM: Tapos....ano pa ako dun... PEAKS!!!!! Peeeeeeaks. Tangina, pare, PEAAAAAAAKS. Di ko lang talaga kaya yung oras e.

Companion: (says something in normal volume) &%^%&$* yun????

LM: PEAKS!!!!!!!!! Yung bawat katapusan meron akong nakukuha..........PEEAAAAAAKS...... sayang talaga yun.

Companion: AHHHHHHHHHHH! FEEEEEEEEEEAKS. FEEEKS sweldo mo!!!!!

I thought the fries I just chewed then did cartwheels in my esophagus.

Another set of questions

2007-08-17T00:40:00.000-07:00

Just because I want to answer the Proust Questionnaire, as popularized in the last page of Vanity Fair.

What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
extreme poverty

Where would you like to live?
somewhere free

What is your idea of earthly happiness?
contentment

To what faults do you feel most indulgent?
any, as long as they're my own

Who are your favorite heroes of fiction?
Moraes Zogoiby, Zorro, Donald Duck

Who are your favorite characters in history?
Mohandas Gandhi, Alfred Hitchcock, Che Guevarra

Who are your favorite heroines of history?
Melchora Aquino, Gabriella Silang, Florence Nightingale

Who are your favorite heroines in real life?
my mother

Who are your favorite heroines of fiction?
Hester Payne, Alice (as in the girl in Wonderland), Hua Mu Lan

Your favorite painter?
I'm not an art connoisseur. Van Gogh.

Your favorite musician?
Juanes

The quality you most admire in a man?
perseverance

The quality you most admire in a woman?
resilience

Your favorite virtue?
optimism

Your favorite occupation?
learning about other places and times

Who would you have liked to be?
no one in particular

Your most marked characteristic?
impatience

What do you most value in your friends?
their entertainment value (mwahahahahahaha). seriously, their generosity (of themselves)

What is your principle defect?
my allergic rhinitis

What is your dream of happiness?
absolute contentment

What to your mind would be the greatest of misfortunes?
abject poverty

What would you like to be?
complete (centrum? mwahahahaha)

In what country would you like to live?
a country with overflowing sangria, flamenco, superficial and meaningful friendships, and silence

What is your favorite color?
I don't have a favorite color, I prefer seeing harmony and appropriateness among/in them.

What is your favorite flower?
I'm allergic to them. I like seeing them in cheerful colors, though.

What is your favorite bird?
I don't like birds, especially after watching Hitchcock's film.

Who are your favorite prose writers?
Rohinton Mistry, Salman Rushdie, Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Who are your favoite poets?
I'm not into English or Filipino poetry, and I don't believe in translated poetry. I have yet to read Spanish poets, so I don't have a favorite poet.

Who are your favorite composers?
Juanes, Mercedes Migel Carpio, Fher Olvera, The Beatles

What are your favorite names?
Alejandro, David, Guillermo
Chloe, Isabel, Claire

What is it you most dislike?
looking at suffering

What historical figures do you most despise?
Hitler

What event in military history do you most admire?
I wouldn't exactly classify it as military, but Cinco de Noviembre in Negros was ingenious and amazing.

What reform do you most admire?
land reform

What natural gift would you most like to possess?
a good singing voice

How would you like to die?
in my sleep, without any fanfare

What is your present state of mind?
perplexed, thinking of what to answer to these questions

What is your motto?
Live each day as though it's your first.