Song for You

You always ask me why I love you.... this song says it all....

This song was featured in Mark Wahlberg and Jennifer Aniston's movie Rockstar

the show is over - close the storybook
will be no encore
and all the random hands that i have shook
well, they're reaching for the door
i watch the backs as they leave single-file
you stood stubborn, cheering all the while

i know i can be colorful
i know i can be grey
i know this loser's living fortunate
cause i know you will love me either way

most were being good for goodness sake
but you wouldn't pantomime
you are more beautiful when you awake
than most are in a lifetime
through the haze that is my memory
you stayed for drama though you paid for a comedy

i know i can be colorful
i know i can be grey
and i know this loser's living fortunate
and i know you will love me either way

look ahead as far as you can see
we live in drama but we die in a comedy

i know i can be colorful (when you live in black and white)
i know i can be grey (my colors fade away)
i know this loser's living fortunate
cause i know you will love me either way 

Happy Birthday to Me

I turned 27 yesterday, two years late for a What's Up by the 4 Non-blondes moment and two years post quarter-life crisis.    I forgot what I wanted to be at 27, but I was pretty sure it involved earning big bucks and sleeping with lots of women.  So here I was, on my birthday, contemplating where I am now and where I was headed.  I'm still broke, immature, taking life too easy and drinking too much.  Nonetheless,  I have developed a sense of pride in myself.  Despite having lots of crap in my bag,  I have gone a long way in my chosen career.  Little by little,  I am earning the trust and respect of my peers and the reverence of the kids under me.  Nevermind that I am still broke and drink too much, at least I am the happy and contented kind.  But sheer happiness and contentment don't pay the bills, so even without wanting to,  I uttered a short thanksgiving prayer for my birthday, dragged myself out of bed and went to work.

I was late again, as usual.  I exercise Filipino time in everything I do, which will fearfully soon become a liability as I endeavor to work outside of the Lupain ng Ginto't Bulaklak.  I arrived at the school to the kids' smiles and well-wishes.  They then hurried in to prepare for the quiz I was about to give.  The mood inside the office was a more festive one with greetings and pats on the back for my birthday.  I guess it becomes reflexive to smile back and thank people who greet you on your birthday when you've done the exercise for more than a quarter century.

Lunch came, and we were in agreement to eat at Nora's, a small eatery near the post-office which serves seafood at a fairly reasonable price.  I was hesitant at first, thinking the place didn't fit the likes of Dr. G, my boss.  Surprisingly, he appeared intrigued to try the place as many of his acquaintances have recommended the place.  When we got there, the place was already packed full though thankfully we were able to squeeze ourselves into a small table.  Now, I can honestly say I am rubbing elbows with my boss but of course, I mean literally rubbing elbows with one another, savoring the food we ordered and enjoyed everybody's company.

The afternoon was somehow eventful but that's another story.  I wrapped my classes up and waited for 7 o'clock to meet up with the kids for a small celebration.  And then bam! Small celebration it isn't :

  The kids, I learned later on, planned on giving me a surprise party.  They weren't very subtle that night, as many of them left the table allegedly to buy something, to pee, change clothes or whatever.  I started getting suspicious even before they started leaving because there were several "anti-social" kids who were there but let it go.  And then the few remaining kids gave away a little bit more, they were fidgety and though they tried to feign normalcy, there was a twinkle in their eyes that made me think something was coming up.  Something really did come up.  The kids took to where we were with food, booze, cameras, gifts and songs.  For that I was genuinely touched.  I expected them to give me something but I didn't expect it would be this grand.  I learned that they even sold siomai to people at school to help pay for this party.  They even troubled me with their gift, wrapped in a neverending fold of old newspapers.  I did guess correctly what they were about to give me though:  


I demanded from Maui she gave me her Zippo for my birthday.  She did more than that.  Together with her classmates, she bought a new one for me, original and expensive.  I wasn't only surprised by the kids' action, I was moved.  I was moved because this birthday is special.  It is a turning point in my life.  A few days after this I will be a husband.  A month after this I will be working in an alien world, alone, no friends, no relatives, no nothing.  I have conditioned myself never to cry when I get there.  I don't think that notion is even remotely possible.  I will most probably weep by myself when I get there, maybe out of frustration or out of loneliness or pressure or whatever.  This birthday marks the end of my childhood.  This day I become a man, on my own, for my own, my ownself.

The booze flowed, yes, it did.  And we danced and laughed and made fools of ourselves and danced and laughed and drank the night away.  What the kids don't realize is that they will never know the impact of this night to me.  They will never know how much more meaningful they made my special day.  They will never know that by staging this surprise party, the first one I ever had outside of my family, they made me whole.  This is the last birthday I will spend in my comfort zone.  The last birthday in a place of inexpensive booze, easy talks, abundant comfort food, people and places.  These are faces I will not forget and experience that I will forever take with me wherever I go.

Today God manifested Himself and made me understand why He made me a teacher.  I understand now what it takes to push yourself and the people you shepherd so hard we break, inorder to build bridges strong enough to withstand the test of time.  I understand now that truly, when one loves what he does, it shows.  Passion comes naturally from someone who knows love.  It saddens me a little bit that only now have I reached the pinnacle of my teaching career when I am already about to end my journey at St Paul. Without sounding too self-absorbed, I have always regarded myself a good teacher.  However, I didn't think I was that good to have an entire class go out of their way, sacrifice, maybe even lie to their parents to pull off a surprise party for me.  A party given to a mentor which wasn't political in nature and without expecting favors . A party reserved for the closest of friends and loved ones.  Perhaps I have become one of them.  If I did and if I am, then as an educator, my friends, I have had my mission accomplished ahead of me.  Thank you for this night.  Thank you for the regard.  Thank you for the friendship.  For all of these, thank you....

RED

I was most certainly entertained.  Red stars some of the biggest names in Hollywood: Bruce Willis, Helen Mirren, Morgan Freeman and John Malkovich.  Red tells of a group of retired undercover agents who are ordered killed by the CIA.  They are tagged RED (Retired, Extremely Dangerous) and one by one they reconnect and decided to get back at the system, searching for the truth behind their attempted assassinations.  The movie was  very enticing, the action was great, the storyline believable.  The cherry on top is John Malkovich's performance playing a paranoid nut who is an expert on weapons.  I so enjoyed his performance in this film which was very comical, I almost forgot he played   Cyrus the Virus in ConAir.

My only concern is that these retired operatives can defeat younger agents in hand to hand combat.  That is not possible, or if it is, then luck should favor you all the time.  When two agents, both exceptional in self-defense and both with superhuman agility, intelligence and tactical strategies, the younger agent almost always wins.  Aging makes you a little bit slower due to slower nerve conduction.  That split second difference could spell life or death.  At least that was how I remembered it in David Morrell's book.  David Morrell is the creator of Rambo is one of my favorite authors.  If you get the chance, read the Brotherhood of the Rose.  That is one hell of a good book.

Nevertheless, if I were to rate RED I would give it a nine out of ten.  It has everything I'm looking for in an action film and the comedic timing of the actors were just perfect.  Go and watch it too :-)

Titser

I actually was supposed to write a different entry today but I had to help out a friend on a favor.  She asked if I could write her an essay on what makes a good teacher.  I'm gonna copy paste the essay below, pardon me I wasn't able to really make a lot time for it but I hope it comes out right. Here y'go:

According to the Chinese, only teachers remain as themselves after they die.  Everyone else will transform into someone or something else but not the teacher.  They continue to instruct even in the afterlife until they are reborn again, instructing, philosophizing and opening minds as they have done in their past life.  In effect, the teacher may be of more social significance than a king or a general.  That, being a king or a general is temporal and being a teacher, eternal.

Defining a good teacher is relative to a learner, student or apprentice.  We all have ideas on what would make a good teacher and that though some of these ideas may contradict each other, most of them actually concur. 

A good teacher is someone who doesn’t just enter a classroom, he sweeps into it.  Like a larger than life figure standing in front of the students, he immediately catches their eye, instilling in them a sense of want, a thirst for learning that only the teacher can give.  They know they’re in for a ride and an adventure, and when he opens his mouth to speak before the class, they know the adventure has begun.  This trait could be loosely attributed to what some would call charisma or x-factor, something that cannot be defined but draws people to you.  They listen, they are mesmerized. 

However, no matter how interesting a topic or a subject is, an ordinary student has the potential to fully concentrate on the lesson for a maximum of twenty minutes, after which attention may not be complete.  This is why I believe that aside from charisma, a good teacher has a good sense of humor.  Having a good sense of humor helps relax the students and a chorus of the laughter automatically changes the monochromatic mood of class.  Even for a brief time, at least they are able to detach themselves from the academic and engage in some form of release.

A good teacher has mastery of his subject matter and knows how to deliver them well.  Delivery is influenced by tone, mannerisms, voice quality, gestures and type of media used.  As expected, a teacher should be more prepared, enthusiastic and learned as compared to his students.  In the event, however, wherein a student appears to be more knowledgeable or that the teacher fails to answer correctly queries from his students, isn’t it always admirable if the teacher accepts that he is at fault and corrects himself in the future?  Therefore, a good teacher is one not only of esteemed knowledge but also of exemplary humility.

Having a teacher that is intimidating and difficult to approach is definitely an unpleasant experience to any student.  Approachability is key to developing open communication between student and mentor.  A good teacher makes it a point that he is approachable while maintaining professional distance from his students.  That way, professional boundaries are established but an open line of communication is also formed.

There are many more attributes of a good teacher that may be discussed here but they will be taking too much space.  Among them, perhaps sacrifice is what I most admire.  Like a doctor, a missionary or a soldier, a good teacher contributes, works, gives himself out a little more beyond the call of duty and responsibility.  It is as if he feels accountable for the future successes or failures of his students.  He gives more than what he is paid for, empowers by motivation and inspires through his actions.  And for me, the highest point of being a good teacher is when you get to realize that you have transcended from being just a teacher to that of a true educator.  You do not just teach, you educate thereby changing your students’ frame of mind and ways of thinking.  The mark of a true teacher, hence, is a total transformation of student, disciple or apprentice.  It is something that is seldom seen by the naked eye.  It is something not immediate and may only manifest in the years to come.  That is when a teacher and a student long gone see each other once more and the students thanks the teacher for all he’s done.  That simple token of appreciation empowers the thousands of teachers around the world, all tired, weary and fed up to go on, to push a little harder, to make learning worthwhile.  For though learning may come from anywhere, a good teacher always leaves an indelible mark in your person, inerasable and eternal.

Open

I tried to open my mind to the issues that both videos posted by the same person presented.  But argh, everything was screaming propaganda.  Both of the videos don't educate, they confuse. They don't enlighten, they muddle.  In fact, I think I wasted twenty something minutes of my life trying to make sense of it all.

Hacienda Luisita and the Cojuangcos
Hacienda Luisita is about 6500 hectares contrary to what the videos posted.  It was larger before some parts of the Haciendas were hacked up and given to farmers.  6500 hectares is very wide.  Correct me if I'm wrong but that would be about from zero point in Iloilo to about halfway going to Roxas City and square it.  Imagine if you own that much arable land, how much wealth and affluence that would bring.  All claims by the poster that the Conjuanco's matriarch seized lands from farmers to make the Hacienda that sizable is highly suspect.  The Hacienda did not belong to the Conjuangcos then although they already own other lands outside of the Hacienda.  The Hacienda was awarded by the late Ramon Magsaysay during the Huk rebellion to the Conjuancos fearing that if the extremely rich Lopezes got hold of the Hacienda, their political and financial influence will rise to epic proportions.  The Cojuangcos made a sizable profit out of the Hacienda and if you read the history books, the farmers of the land were actually very happy and contented.  They were subject to way better working conditions, health benefits, educational benefits for the children and even burial benefits.  The Hacienda earned a lot but the owners and the heads (which at that time Ninoy was) shared everything to the farmers and everyone was happy.

When Martial Law came, Ninoy was arrested and Marcos wanted the Hacienda divided to farmers, inciting rebellion, to pressure the Conjuangcos to force Ninoy's mouth shut.  Ninoy refused to budge, he got imprisoned, eventually killed and the rest is history.

The Marcoses
The Marcoses are the epitome of greed and corruption.  True, if you ask people who lived then which quality of life was better, then or now, they would say then.  They would say prices were modest, food was plentiful gas was cheap.  True, culture and arts peaked and new specialty hospitals were built.  True, 2 pesos were equal to a dollar.  Let me remind you then how the Marcoses caused the sinking of this country.  You really wanna know why? They borrowed so f*king much from foreign lenders to give the illusion that the economy was well while indiscriminately enriching themselves and their cronies .  Under his tyranny, the Philippines' debt in dollars rose more than a 1000 percent, something that you and I are paying for now and our children's children will be paying for later.  Half of our GDP goes to debt servicing if you should know.  That explains why within 10 years after his rule, the Philippine peso became Mickey Mouse money 1$=25Php.  Ramos' term ended with many more white elephant projects and borrowing. Hello, Erap as president 1$=45php and rising.  20 years after his rule, 1$=56 Php. Now tell me what happened there? Hello, Philippines welcome to the third world.

The Marcos campaign against oligarchy was largely a front for his, his wife and cronies' own desires to control corporations and launder  money under their names thereby instilling a new oligarchy--their own.  Lucio Tan and Danding Conjuanco allied themselves with Marcos that is why both of them are one of the richest Filipinos now.  That explains why the Hacienda was left unblemished during the regime.  During that time, the demons Marcos and his wife have already embezzled hundreds of millions from our coffers into US and Swiss banks in forms of gold bullion, cash and jewelry.  No one spoke against them.  Those who did were found murdered, killed in broad daylight, arrested for no reason or simply winked out of existence.  That the videos posted above claim that worse human rights abuses happened during the elder Aquino's term as president, is  a grossly overblown figment of schizophrenic delusions.  That Ninoy Aquino was the primary choice of Marcos to be his eventual replacement is a dream.  The primary choice of Marcos to be his replacement is: NOBODY.  He didn't want to be replaced after all.  He and Imelda even wanted to turn this country like what North Korea is now, blind love and loyalty to the leaders.  He silenced all media, took over TV, radio and newsprint so that only good news will be read by people.  Never mind that crimes committed by the military and high ranking civilians go unresolved everyday.  So long as they have their dough, everything's fine.  ABS-CBN was taken from the Lopezes (restored by Cory to its rightful owners when she was in power) which explains why until now refer to Marcos as a dictator and not a president. It is mostly, 'the dictator Marcos' not 'former president Marcos'.  The Philippine Daily Inquirer was founded just before Marcos' collapse and was pivotal to Cory's campaign as while Marcos' tried to censure everything, the Inquirer highlighted Cory's campaign for the presidency.  The PDI is always criticized for being anti-Marcos but personally, I think the PDI is anti-corrupt in general which was why Erap fumed mad when he was targeted by Inquirer lashing out and pulling every string to have ads by major corporations pulled out of the newsprint. Therefore, the poster's thought that The Inquirer and ABSCBN choose to intentionally demonize the Marcoses and canonize Ninoy and Cory to change an entire nation's perspective is rather flawed.  The Marcoses are placed into a bad light particularly because they did some crazy shit. You cannot just expect a country you did so bad to just forgive that easily, although with BongBong Marcos' win I am starting to doubt that.

Cory Cojuangco-Aquino, Kris Aquino
Corazon Aquino, reluctant housewife of martyred  Ninoy Aquino became president by virtue of People Power.  Calling the more than 2 million people at EDSA a mere 2% of the Philippine population and not a democratic exercise by the poster is one of the stupidest remarks ever. 2 million people in rebellion against a very powerful autocratic government is no modest feat; to succeed in doing so almost bloodlessly at that is at par with the miraculous.  Cory became president, a weak almost powerless figurehead leading a bankrupt nation with empty coffers  and sky high debts.  The result was many protests from all sides of society, farmers, workers and the military, most of them incited by Marcos cronies who want their power back.  She survived many coup attempts and controversies.  For what it's worth, Cory was but symbolic, a tangible model for the adage, 'Good guys finish last'.  I still believe that she was naive, easily swayed, always seeing the good in everyone.  It tarnished her legacy in a way when she sided with Abalos in the NBN-ZTE deal which Abalos brokered for GMA.  She still believed Abalos was innocent not realizing that Abalos the saint when he was still under her presidency had turned to Abalos the betrayer.  Cory I still believe is a Conjuangco who isn't greedy and ambitious like her cousins.  She is pious, benevolent and lived to and for her God.  She died I would liek to think, still hoping for the best in her country, a vision she shares with Ninoy.

The poster should not have commented about Kris Aquino.  She is being shown on TV not because of her roots.  She is seen on TV regularly because she sells.  It's a simple corporate move, she sells so she's on TV.  Nevermind that, like the Kardashians, nothing of importance comes out from her regular fill of verbal diarrhea, Kris knows how to sell and so producers like her.  Simple as that.

I will no longer write about Ninoy and incumbent president Noynoy as this entry is taking too long. Let me leave you with something:

The Conjuangcos and the Conjuangco-Aquinos are not one and the same.  The former are controversial, somehow of questionable repute while the latter try to exemplify how Filipinos should live under Ninoy's vision (of course Kris regularly does something stupid to undermine this). But if other people would want to paint them as something from the dark side of the moon, let them be.  In psychology, if there is doubt between what you see and what you hear, you would believe what you see.  I am seeing now things that people at EDSA saw.  It was true love of country and in my own little way, even just through this amateurish blog entry, I am showing you how.

Perceptions

I went home last Monday night somehow tipsy after several bottles of beer.  I took a cab, and after I dropped my friend off, I struck a conversation with the taxi driver, as I usually do.  Ever since, I enjoy conversing with taxi drivers.  I always do, and in the short span of the fifteen or twenty minute drive home, every once in awhile I learn something I will never know from people in the upper echelons of society.

I am a teacher, so why you wonder, do I bother to talk to taxi drivers?  I talk to them because they are people you don't notice everyday but more often than not they probably notice you.  Nevermind that you will never remember them, their faces, their demeanors.  It is meant to be that way.  It's the same way you don't remember cleaning ladies/gentlemen in restaurants or malls.  They keep their heads low so you never notice them.  But hell do they know many things about people around them all the time.  You don't heed them listening (eavesdropping) or glancing over (spying) and like oysters under murky, nutrient or waste-rich waters they sift and filter through everything.  They know some things you don't expect them to mostly mundane daily activities, mannerisms and gossips.  In the workplace, it is always helpful to befriend low-levelled blue-collared workers as they are mostly loyal and helpful with things around.  They can be your eyes and ears to help you tread carefully within the halls of politics and personal agenda.

It is from a taxi driver that I learned how local fishermen in coastal communities know when a tsunami or storm surge is impending without direct information from authorities.  It is from a taxi driver that I learned that sardine and "tuloy" or Pacific herring are two different fish despite looking similar to my untrained eyes. This time around, I was schooled on the corruption in the LTFRB, how new taxi franchises are still being given despite the cut-off limit and how corruption cannot be curbed because with the bribe changing hands many times before eventually reaching the boss, and with everyone involved getting to wet their beaks, it is extremely difficult to trace the money.  But hey, this isn't the only thing I learned that night.  Here is a taxi driver, explaining to a university instructor, how a taxi running on LPG runs.  He mentioned about chemicals and safety nets to prevent leakage of LPG and subsequent conversion of toxic gases back into the taxi endangering drivers from overexposure to this potentially harmful gas.  He also explained to me how the initial run of the coal-fired power plant failed.  He told me it is highly likely that the dumbasses of corporate investors of that powerplant attempted to use a cheaper ,less refined and more toxic fuel which thankfully failed to function as well as the conventional although still environmentally harmful fuel.  The danger this powerplant and those taxis running on LPG, he said, is their ability to exhaust hydrogen sulfine which is very harmful both the environment and to living organisms. It was only then did he tell me he used to be a chemical engineer in the middle east who squandered everything he had on gambling and vices.  He was very optimistic that eventually things will get better and his financial state will improve. 

As he dropped me off, I gave him an extra tip (I usually do for taxi drivers who entertain me).  Yes, there are many taxi drivers who are of questionable character especially when I take the cab drunk or they think I'm drunk.  They try to weasel more from what I truly owe them using a variety of tactics to confuse me.  In that case, I never give them a single centavo more of what I owe them.  It's crap and though I believe most of them do it only because the operator's demand for boundary is really high, I believe it is always wrong to exploit people monetary-wise if you know deep inside that you don't really deserve their money. 

This lovely exchange served as a lesson of humility for me.  I was privileged to take that faceless man's cab and enjoyed a truly meaningful conversation with him.  I uttered a silent prayer for him as he sped away from my drop off point, eager to share what he knows to those who ask and eager to learn more.

Tragic Love Songs

Below are tragic love songs (not necessarily romantic) that tug at the heart and inspire.  Hope you like it too:

               Buloy - Parokya ni Edgar

 This song propelled Parokya to stardom during the time when Yano, Eraserheads, Rivermaya and Teeth dominated the alternative rock mainstream.  The Eraserheads and Rivermaya eventually became enshrined as rock icons of Philippine music while Teeth and Yano disappeared into oblivion.  More than 15 years into the business, Parokya ni Edgar remains strong and much loved by music enthusiasts as their music transcends age, gender and social class.

             Better Days- Dianne Reeves

A grandmother advises her grandchild that everything will only get better if you persevere despite the hardship that life has to offer.

              Ang Huling El Bimbo- Eraserheads

Perhaps one of the most iconic songs by the Eraserheads.  A tragic love song about a childhood love that was lost.

                    Tonight - FM Static

This song was allegedly written for the composer's girlfriend who died in the 9/11 terror attacks.  Makes the message of the song pierce the heart more.

                     Honey - Bobby Goldsboro

The song is looped.  Bobby's soulful melancholic voice and the choral background add drama to this tragic song.  Kumusta ang hair niya d? Lolz

                   Last Kiss - Pearl Jam

This song is based (I'm not sure though) on Eddie Vedder's girlfriend who died in a car crash just like what the lyrics say.

                  Tears in Heaven - Eric Clapton

This song was written after Clapton's 2 year old kid fell from a window and died.

                 One Sweet Day-  Mariah Carey and Boyz II Men

Still one of the best duets and most commonly sang duets during videoke sessions.

          Dance With My Father - Luther Van Dross

Perhaps one of the most inspiring songs written.  A last song for a departed dad.

I hope you enjoyed the videos I posted here.  Feel free to post comments or suggest more tragic songs. :-)      

Moron

I am always in awe of people who pass their moronity off with grand gestures and seemingly intelligent speeches.  Many of them are usually people who are distinct, powerful and popular.  Here in the Philippines, we have an abundance of politicians who are obviously morons with lots and lots of money to bribe the ignorant poor to vote for them.  Some are just plain dumb and take every opportunity to grandstand for media exposure.  This is very true of former Senator Jamby Madrigal and eternally oppositionist Senator Alan Peter Cayetano.  Others would rather keep their mouths shut particularly because they have nothing of essence to say or do.  They sit there in their chambers oblivious to what is going on around them just because they most likely don't even know the difference between a law and a bill and have no business at all in the first place to be sitting there.  Hello Senator Lito Lapid and Bong Revilla.  Hello Congressman Manny Pacquiao. 

Recently, another self-important lawmaker of questionable IQ emerged and is trending worldwide for trying to stop a trend worldwide.  Essentially, he wants to stop this:

You can read an article regarding the matter here:
http://www.cbc.ca/news/offbeat/story/2011/09/20/filipino-anti-planking-bill.html

Representative Winston Castelo has lost his marbles.  He wants CHED to be like a guidance center telling the students they could not do this, they could not do that.  Planking is a stupid exercise that is meant for plain harmless fun.  The bill itself is restricted only to students in universities and colleges who will do planking as a form of protest.  Planking has almost always been used by militant groups holding protests in the streets virtually to try and stop traffic so that motorists and pedestrians will be forced to listen to their plights until the police will come to drive them out.  Mr Castelo wants to make an impact because he feels so strongly about the matter he drafted a new bill to permanently cement his demented state of mind in the lower house:

http://sowhatsnews.wordpress.com/2011/09/30/after-anti-planking-lawmaker-proposes-anti-angry-birds-bill/

So he goes inside a mall, gets irritated by the fad and with sunlight from heaven washing his face, he has an epiphany.  A realization so grand and great his heart could not contain.  I will make an anti-angry birds bill. Yes, I will make an anti-angry birds bill! Which, if approved into law, means people like this could get jail:

It's no wonder why common sense is hardly common nowadays. I feel sorry for the people of Quezon City, they have a donkey to represent them. Apparently, he is the Grinch of anything that is a popular temporal craze.  With a lot of things going on in this country, with reforms that need to be in place, a lawmaker opts to make bills that are a reflection of himself: a moron.

Hero

I have read an article from a blog a couple of weeks ago which in a way annoyed me.  Here it is:

http://definitelyfilipino.com/blog/2011/08/23/pinoys-who-think-ninoy-aquino-would-have-made-the-country-better-are-fooling-themselves/

Ninoy Aquino was assassinated a year before I was born.  I haven't heard of the guy except that he was the husband of Cory Aquino, one of the world's most iconic women of the 20th century.  I also knew he's the guy on the five hundred peso bill and considered the martyr who brought down the despot Ferdinand Marcos' regime.  Ninoy Aquino is considered a national hero and is revered by those who fight for justice and freedom.

True, we will never know if he would've become the greatest President everybody thought or wished he could've been.  Perhaps his stay in Congress was lackluster having passed very few laws.  Arguably though, few bills passed by the opposition during those times were approved by both House and Senate which lapped  from Marcos' hands and the country's coffers.  Ninoy was a very outspoken critic who fearlessly spoke of what the hoi polio are afraid to say, fearing summary execution or baseless and unjust persecution.  He was jailed, exiled and eventually assassinated to keep the people from rising against the despot.  The opposite happened and the rest, as the cliche goes, is history.

It always saddens me when you get people so cynical of how they view the world, it pulls you down into a vacuum of hopelessness.  I, too, sometimes grow tired of hoping, hoping for the best, hoping for change, hoping to see my country rise and be recognized as one of the promised lands of the 21st century.  The writer wrote well and quite passionately but passion alone leaves a lot more wanting.  He said Heroes are the Opium of the Pinoy, rephrasing Mao Zedong's famous line: religion is the opium of the people.  It is sad that he tried to downplay Ninoy's contribution to the restoration of democracy in our country.  It is infuriating that he considers people who believed in Ninoy nincompoops.  Ninoy, he said, has never built anything and people are just too dependent on hero-worship that they would just be swept by the grandeur of what one man did instead of moving themselves to elevate the country from the muck we are in.  True, in almost all aspects involving our motherland we are in the crapper and true, we need to get a hold of reality, see what's really goin' on so we can move forward.  Articles like this, however beautifully written, do not motivate they demoralize and instead of opening people's minds to the spirit of volunteerism, change and hope, you further deaden them.

Believe what you want to believe.  But I know that everyday, everybody hurts.  Some hurt more than others but everybody hurts nonetheless.  Some would take refuge in prayer, in charity, drugs, alcohol, sex, work and many more.  And whatever way that would help my people's pain go away is not something I shutdown.  I will not take away from someone whatever it is that helps him get through the pain of everyday, so long as what he's doing is right.  If, my friends, for one day every year, people will look towards Ninoy's picture and beam with hope and pride, it is not their fault and it is not naivety.  Rather, it is commendable, a sure sign that my people haven't lost their will, that my people have a spirit unbroken despite all odds.  And when one day all of us think that way, there will no longer be "regular Filipinos", we will all be heroes.

Kulo

Yesterday, the Philippine Senate, predominantly inutile as they are, spent another working day on their grand but utterly useless inquiries.  Senate inquiries, aimed mostly for publicity and grandstanding and usually done "in aid of legislation" is 98% of the time an expensive and futile exercise.  I don't want to elaborate on the practices so save it for another day but just to make a point ask yourself whatever happened to the Hello Garci inquiry, the Eurogenerals, the C5 road extension scandal of Manny Villar, the GOCC heads, the ZTE-NBN deal inquiry and dozens upon dozens more inquiries that the Senate did, of which caused a temporary uproar from the people eventually dying a natural death when another controversy arises for new "inquiry".  But so much for the Senate and their mindless self-serving press releases.  I want to speak my mind about the topic of yesterday's inquiry.

The "Kulo" exhibit of visual contemporary artist Mideo Cruz has drawn serious flak from mostly the religious of a predominantly Catholic country for a couple of weeks until the CCP eventually decided to close down the exhibit to appease the ardent protesters and probably save the artist from blind and fanatical violence.  As soon as the protests from the religious sectors rose to a boiling point, artists of different backgrounds came out to defend art and the supposed repression of freedom of expression by the Church.  They once more upheld the separation of church and state and that censorship of one's right to express himself through art is backward and senseless.  The verbal combat between the two parties never receded since then. 

For the artists, they claimed that art should be something that opens the mind to something new; it is provocative; it is transformative.  It is meant to change your view of the world, eventhough the change may not necessarily be in a positive way.  They argue that you should view the whole exhibit in its entirety and reflect on what the artist really wants to express and not just on the superficial material.  They argue that just like in anything in life people have choices and you are not required to go to the CCP and view the exhibit if you find it offensive.  You have freedom of choice, to view it, be furious and flirt with a cerebrovascular event or don't view it and spare yourself the stress. 

And so came to the artist's defense tour guide extraordinaire Carlos Celdran, brilliant filmmaker Jose Javier Reyes and National Artist for Literature Bienvenido Lumbrera.  Yours truly personally doesn't know the works of Mr Lumbrera for I haven't read any of them but for the former two, I quite have a little knowledge about them.  Jose Javier Reyes is a brilliant director and scriptwriter and for those who don't know it yet is also a rather an upfront and thought-provoking essayist. I have read some of his work and I personally am a fan.  I question though, his motive of fully supporting Mideo Cruz.  I remember years back when bomba films in the country sprout like mushrooms after a thunderstormy night and Mr Reyes made a softporn called Live Show.  The film was lambasted so hard by the Catholic Church and other civic groups prompting the MTRCB to scrap the film entirely.  Mr Reyes marched to the streets and called the act "a blast back to the Jurassic Era".  Yep, I agree, though I am ignorant of the law, that was censorship and that was wrong.  Next, Carlos Celdran brought the house down when he entered the Manila Cathedral during a Mass and called the priest Damaso to protest the church's interference in the passage of the RH Bill.  He stressed a point that if you don't want people to interfere with your religious activities then please don't interfere with the affairs of the state.  Mr Celdran was jailed and open-minded people like me cheered for him.  I still am a supporter of his with regards to the RH bill but with this Kulo thing, I think Mr Celdran has gone too far.  It's as if he just wants to oppose the Catholic Church for the sake of opposing it.

Now, let me put my two cents on the matter as this blog entry is getting longer than usual. I don't want to take sides on the matter.  On one hand, I consider myself an artist like Mideo Cruz.  And yes, I am proud to say that what I cannot paint with brush and palette, I do with words.  On the other hand,  I am also Catholic and I love my God.  To say it bluntly, I am offended by the Kulo exhibit. Yes, I haven't seen the entire exhibit and I understand that art is meant to provoke both thought and emotion.  But art that is meant only to provoke and nothing but is trash.  National Artist for Literature F. Sionil Jose thinks so too.  Veteran film, TV and stage actor Pen Medina thinks so too.  If Mideo Cruz wanted to express his dissatisfaction at the church or religion itself, he could've done so in many more ways.  Not this:

 And certainly not sticking an ashtray carved to the shape of a phallic symbol on a picture of Christ.  Nevermind the blasphemy, if you're not offended, but I will mind that it is downright irresponsible.  Why do it on the holy images of what Christians associate with the divine?  Why attempt to incite anger and hatred from Christians?  Because you think you can get away with it because Christianity is a passive non-violent religion?  I dare these artists exuding fiery bravado to do the same thing with Islam.  Will they be courageous enough to defend their art once jihad is called upon them?  Will they still claim unjust censorship when their exhibit is closed down to prevent escalation of violence towards the artists themselves?

In the end, you can be creative and yet preserve a sense of responsibility and cultural sensitivity.  Art is something to provoke, true, but it is also something that could transform.  But don't judge me, I know nothing about visual art.  I do know, however, that whatever and however the society may see it, freedom per se is something that is never for free.

Atheist

The wine and whine extraordinaire experience afterwork last Thursday was very refreshing as we hadn't had real wine together since the board review has started.  As expected, the main topic was how we did in the recent boards, how we can improve it, etc.  Until we reached the topic of how people deal with failures such as this one.  And a question was raised: If you prepared so long, so hard for something and everything fell apart, would you blame God?

Question is: Do you really believe in God?

Well I have been a rebel without a cause most of my life.  I have been born and raised a Catholic, went from kindergarten to college (and still am) in a Catholic college.  At some point in my life I have turned atheist, then agnostic, the back to being Catholic.  I was never devout mind you, just a regular Catholic who doesn't know his Bible but follow religious dogma somewhat religiously.  But yes, I do believe in God.

During that somewhat drunken moment, I realized atheism is just for the intelligent and the utterly dumb.  Only those who sit at the far end of the spectrum.  I have met many intelligent people who are atheists.  And die-hard atheists are among the worst drinking companions ever.  Having sat at many booze tables in my life there are few topics that I consider taboo unless you talk to someone who is level-headed and up for a truly enlightening discussion: politics, religion and finances.  So when I get these hard-ass atheists with me on the table, I don't argue with them or make any discussion with them.  I just nod my head and sip my beer, hoping to dissuade them from pursuing that topic and move on to the next one.  I do not want to argue if God exists, or why the church is this and that or why the Bible is a compilation of fairytales.  If your mind is fixed on something, nothing can change it.  So what's the point?

I am not a defender of the faith or the church.  I don't know if the Creation story in the Bible is fact or fiction (probably the latter).  I don't know if the other unpublished gospels are to be believed in.  I don't know if what Dan Brown and his likes wrote are to be believed in ( well I wouldn't really know since I don't read crap like that).  But I do believe in God.  It's because there is a God.  I don't have to prove it to you that He exists.  I just know.

Atheists read the Bible so that they can find fault in it.  Atheists learn religion and its history, so they can find fault in it.  Atheists study science so that they can prove it is more superior than faith and dogma. And when the opportunity comes they will drown you in all these arguments trying to confuse you and change your point of views.  This is why to be an atheist you have to be smart or no one will believe you.  You have to be smart so you will understand the Bible and its flaws and to put them side by side compare them and present them to mostly skeptic non-atheists.You have to be smart  to be believable.

I told you that in order for you to be an atheist you either have to be very intelligent or be utterly dumb, right?  Well dumb people do dumb things and since they want to continue doing dumb things they'll argue that there is no god so that they'll be spared from any responsibility, moral and spiritual, from their dumb actions.  Either way, only the smart ones will try to convert you, the dumb ones will just continue to annoy you. 

At the end of the day, when these smart atheists start to argue and confuse me with their almost fanatical beliefs, I just shut down and completely ignore them.  At the back of my mind though, : If you don't really give a damn about God, why spend all your energy trying to make others believe that there's no God?  If you don't really give a damn about God, why are you bothered that so many people believe in Him?  If He is truly nothing to you, then I suppose He wouldn't even need a single moment of your time.  After all, as in showbusiness, any form of publicity, good or bad, is still publicity.

One of Those TV Moments

My last post was about a life wasted by synthetic concoctions that numb and dumb. We usually hear or read about them if they're famous people and completely brush them aside as low-life scum if they aren't.  Drugs have victimized many stars and futilized many talents. It's like a bad dream you can't forget, a shadow always on your tail. Heath Ledger, Michael Jackson, Chet Baker, Janis Joplin, Jimmy Hendrix, Brittany Murphy. Their lives and deaths are always reminding us to stay away from drugs.  But no, the best things in life are either illegal, unhealthy, unethical, immoral or taboo.  More and more people try and get hooked on drugs everyday and the painful Russian roulette between drug addiction and society itself continues. 

Druggies would justify that it's their bodies and they have the right to do whatever they want with it.  What they don't realize, or most probably choose not to, is that they are an epicenter of destruction sending shockwaves of despair and grief to those around them.  Drugs kill, that's a fact.  But it doesn't only kill you, it kills everyone else around you.

Of all the reality crap that MTV shows, I was able to catch one that is actually inspiring.  Since my cable company no longer subscribes to MTV, this particular show I caught on Velvet.  The show's title is here:

I watched but a couple episodes of this since I don't know its timeslot and I found at first that the show was stupid.  It's like watching a retreat on TV with people sharing, leaders giving inspiring speeches, people exposing their and their family's dirty laundry for everyone to hear and see, stuff like that.  Stuff that my usual cynicism feeds on for mockery.  After all, it's just all about teenagers and their teenage drama: I feel so alone, I wanna belong, I don't know who I am, all those crap.  But this particular episode touched me deeply.  And I would've written asap after watching the show only if there was no power outage.  Here is the only picture of the girl I'm talking about, I don't know what her name is but her story was incredible:

She shocked her core group when she revealed that she has a mental disorder, bipolar and she has had bouts with severe depression.  She lives in a broken home, with her drug addicted father who verbally abused her to the point of breaking down.  Her own father, the one supposed to protect her, cherish her, love her, encourage her, was the one who raged that she was crazy, that she was no good, that nothing will ever come out of her miserable life.  He stepped on her when she was so down, when she needed his love and support most.  Blame it on his own personal misery, his hatred of himself, his drug use.  But damn it, it crushed her fragile teenage spirit.  She recalled that a friend of hers, who also has the same sickness as her, joined her in committing suicide on Christmas day.  Fortunately, her parents found them and brought them to the hospital for treatment.  She tearfully recalled that a family friend, who has no business at all to attend to her, offered her help.  She now lives with that family friend, who she fondly calls her 'aunt'.  She said that was the only time she felt she was wanted and she was loved.

Her story shocked not only her core discussion group but her other schoolmates who participated in that sharing.  One of them said she was amazed how anybody could have survived that kind of treatment.  One of them said she wanted to hug her each time she crossed the blue line.  Overall, I think not only was it an eye-opener for everyone there (jock, prom queen, loser, nerd, bully, etc) that they can live side by side, pass each other on the hallways without truly knowing one another, how each one really felt, it could have been the last lifeline of that girl.  It was cathartic to have shared her demons so they can leave her, so that everyone can see her now, no longer invisible but with the support of once-strangers-turned-friends. 

Yes, drugs would destroy people around you, those who love you.  But hope springs eternal.  We can get back, we can regain what we lost, we can save lives.  We can find time, time to listen, time to care, just a few minutes to really listen to someone who says "If you really knew me...."

Goodbye Amy

And so pass one of the greatest voices to ever have graced the airwaves in recent memory, Amy Winehouse.

It probably was an OD, a tragedy waiting to happen for someone so dependent, so addicted to her cocktails of poison.  She infused herself with drugs and alcohol as easily as she can breathe out a soulful tune so effortlessly.  It is so sad to lose someone of so much talent by being a drug addict.  Russell Brand said this about Amy and other addicts out there:  "All addicts, regardless of the substance or their social status share a consistent and obvious symptom; they're not quite present when you talk to them. They communicate to you through a barely discernible but un-ignorable veil. Whether a homeless smack head troubling you for 50p for a cup of tea or a coked-up, pinstriped exec foaming off about his ‘speedboat' there is a toxic aura that prevents connection. They have about them the air of elsewhere, that they're looking through you to somewhere else they'd rather be. And of course they are. The priority of any addict is to anesthetize the pain of living to ease the passage of the day with some purchased relief."

I, too, have lost a childhood friend due to drug addiction.  We were in second year college when he ODed.  We were able to visit him in the ICU at St Paul while he was comatose.  Several classmates told us that when they visited John Mark, they were crying feeling sorry for him wanting him to come back to us.  They said a tear fell from the corner of his closed eyes.  The following morning, we heard they news, he's gone.

 Amy Winehouse is a testament to what Bill Gates famously quoted (which I will rephrase): I wish everyone was rich and famous, so that they will know that that it will not bring them true happiness.  Amy Winehouse was at the top of her game four, five years ago.  She won five Grammy's and was tabloid trash for her tumultuous domestic life and her utterly destructive lifestyle.  But how, when sober, can she wow audiences with her soulful and effortless contralto.  She's one of those singers who can just stand there and sing.  Just stand there and amaze you. No need to flap around like a chicken or climb up and down boxes or show off skin and abs to get attention like what Gaga, Britney or Keisha do.  Few artists can do it like Amy Winehouse (read: a sober stonefree Amy Winehouse). Just stand there and sing: Adele, Duffy, Frank Sinatra, Tony Bennett, our very own Kuh Ledesma, among others. 

I'm one of Amy Winehouse's biggest fans and I would surely miss her.  But her addiction ultimately led to her untimely but predictable demise.  Many more artists will come and go and Amy, amazing as she is a singer/songwriter, was not able to establish herself as one of the greatest and given less than five years she will be forgotten.  Like a haunting memory, I will be one of those who will not forget.   Her music will live on like these few lines from her song Wake Up Alone:
If I was my heart
I'd rather be restless
The second I stop the sleep catches up and I'm breathless
This ache in my chest
As my day is done now
The dark covers me and I cannot run now

Her music will live on.  Her demons are gone now.  They've won, you see.  There's no running now.  It's over. The final curtain has dropped.

And so pass one of the greatest voices to ever have graced the airwaves in recent memory, Amy Winehouse. With all her talents and potential perhaps that is all she'll ever be.  A memory.

Here!Here!

This is one song I always listen to when I'm too tired, too disheartened or too cynical of love and life.  I hope you enjoy it too.

By the way, don't forget to turn my playlist off before you click on the video. :-)

Thief

Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me. So goes the saying.  I believe what other know-it-alls believe in, happiness lies in the self and not on others.  By that, you do not let others judge you, you ignore their presumptions, you do not bend to their will, they do not dictate who you should or ought to become. The key to bliss is to appreciate the good in what others say and forget about the bad stuff. So what if they think you're not as beautiful as you think you are? So what if they think you're cheap? So what if they think you're a loser? Hard as you try though, you cannot block everything out.  You can only be deaf, blind and downright insensitive just long enough before you break down.  You can never be that strong, that numb, just because like all of us you're human.  You feel.  You hurt. You break down.

Last week, I was informed about an incident of stealing in one of the classrooms.  A student lost 2,700 in cash, the alleged thief: a female classmate.Many of them believe this certain "classmate" was also involved in several other similar incidences in the past.  Without concrete, definitive evidence, her classmates who strongly believe she was the culprit condemned her, the air tasting stale and thick as they sold her out, ostracizing her like a leper, all forms of association and friendship thrown out of the window.

  I vaguely remember when one of our classmates was also stealing from others. It was sacrilegious,  the worst form of betrayal in a closely knit us-against-the-world family.  The illusion of security was shattered and suddenly everybody kept looking over their shoulders making sure he never leaves anything valuable while she was around.  Like the girl now, she was scorned, branded for life a thief.  However, she was not someone you could easily hate. She was nice, sweet and friendly with an unassuming personality and a somewhat adorable childishness. She started stealing when things got so bad she got desperate.  I felt sorry for her then.  I feel sorry for this girl now, too.  I do not condemn these people but I certainly condemn their actions.  I wonder, how can you survive for the next 2 semesters in an environment where every quick glance at you becomes meaningful, when every body thinks you're just waiting to strike again.  Can the bridges you burnt during the drama ever be fixed? Can trust be regained?

Ever since, I will allow people to call me and brand me anything they want to.  Call me anything you want, just don't call me a thief. A "thief" is a reputation that takes a long time to be shaken off.  It's something that you can just learn to adjust to but not completely erase.  It's something that you can ignore only for so long before the pain sets in.  You feel.  You hurt.  You breakdown

Hunger Pangs

I had a mid-afternoon lunch at a Korean turo-turo which was immensely disappointing.  I think it was a complete rip-off with just spicy chili soup and Maggi-like noodles.  It wasn't even seasoned well.  So to keep me in a better mood, I decided to grab some iced coffee at Madge's (arguably the best coffee haus in the entire city easily besting Starbuck's and Coffeebreak).  So while sipping and puffing my cancer sticks, a certain craving washed over me.  I missed my kiddie comfort food. Right then and there, I thought about 5 of my most favorite as a kid.

Pritos Ring

You place one one each finger and slowly munch your way in.  I don't know if this stuff has had the longevity of PeeWee or Cheez It but I no longer see it even in sari-sari stores so I assume I'll be picking them off my fingers only in memory.  (By the way, Squid Rings can also be eaten that way)

Bobot

Sugar-coated peanut with a cheap brass ring that turns your ring finger green or gray.  Bobot triggers a lot of fun memories as this is what I usually get during Crack the Pot in birthday parties.  Other kids always get the good stuff, I get crap. Bobot that is.

Haw Flakes

Hail the almighty Haw Flakes! Until now, I still grab some whenever I feel like it.  As a kid, it made you perform priestly duties to your friends or to your self by ministering the host like a holy communion.  Come to think of it, was that considered a venial sin?

Kiamoy

 

 

I used to be disgusted by this stuff until I willed myself to like it.  Eventually, I did and there is no stopping me.  Turned my lips, teeth and tongue orange-y each time.  My favorite part was when Paddy grabs some giant kiamoys from his candy stall at Marymart Mall and we stuff one whole big kiamoy to our mouths until our eyes welled up from the salt-fix.  Must have traumatized my kidneys bigtime.

Chocnut

I remember when Dunkin'Donuts first opened here in Iloilo.  Everybody wanted to taste it.  My parents asked me if I wanted to go to Mass with them one Sunday.  I said no, knowing they will give me 5 pesos for my snacks that afternoon (enough to buy me a 3 chocnuts and a couple Marvel cards for my collection.  I found out later that they all ate out at Dunkin' and didn't even bother to take some home for me "to teach me a lesson".  I almost died right then and there.  Ugh!  Talk about social injustice.

Jeepney Ride

Whatchalookin at?

When you commute on a daily basis, this scene is most probably familiar to you. People rushing, squeezing themselves through to get to work, school or home. The jeepney is an innovation from US Jeeps during the Japanese era which has so permeated  our culture, it is hard to imagine what a city and the entire country will be like without it.

I take it on a daily basis, an exercise of the hoi poloi and the middle class, to get to where I am.  That is a good place to observe the world around you.  And observe, I do a lot.  For example, since living here in Mandurriao, I only managed to ride once a jeepney full capacity, with only male passengers in it; thrice with only women passengers in it excluding the driver and myself.  You might think, this is a rather odd pastime.  I glance around checking the people inside, though not in a weird kind of way.  I'm just thinking: what are they thinking? What do you usually think about when you commute?

During the morning rush hour, do you see people sweating profusely constantly checking their watches and sighing at ever traffic stop? Do you see people catching up on their sleep? Do you see two students, siblings, the younger one sleeping, yakking endlessly or looking sick and ready to vomit?  Do you see people in their house clothes, office uniforms, barongs and business suits? Do you look at their faces?  Do you know their stories?

Are you one to plug-in your earphones and listen to your own choice of music?  Are you one to silently curse at the driver who stops after every few meters to pick up passengers who didn't even bother to wave them down?  Are you one who mentally calculates which seat would receive the most shade throughout the trip? Are you one who looks out the window throughout the trip, consciously or unconsciously ignoring the request to pass the fare to the driver?  Are you one to sleeps towards your destination, desperately extending your slumber on a moving vehicle? 

Perhaps you are one who plays out situations in his head, sometimes irreverently silently mumbling out exchanges like a fool?  Or are you one who doesn't do anything at all, doesn't think about anything at all, just taking the ride like a bag of potatoes with fare?

Are you one like I am?  Watching. Observing.  Playing out the stories of their lives, and perhaps my life, like a bard on the stage, amidst the morning smog and the easy chugging of the engine of the simple and humble jeepney.

Youth

Has it left you yet?

If today you are 90, sitting on the front porch of a nursing home, gently rocking the chair in your sala, or flipping through some dusty photo album with arthritic fingers, would you have smiled remembering the old days or would you have wept for lost time, love or youth?

Tonight, I watched a rather dragging Maggie Smith movie entitled Capturing Mary.  For those who don't know the veteran actress, she plays Professor McGonagall in the Harry Potter series. The movie focuses on an old lady confronted by the ghost of her past, a dashing man of whom it isn't clear if she is in-love with, infatuated or simply curious about.  She relates the events to a young man, the caretaker of a once-regal mansion which was at one point in time the gathering place of the rich and famous and those in power.  The movie overall is something very few people would pay to watch in a theater and those who would pay would probably do so to lull themselves to sleep.  I fell asleep for several minutes watching it so I would know.

However, near the end of the movie, Maggie Smith is seen crying on a park bench, crying for what could have been, for the lost potential of her youth, her brilliance as a young writer about the lives of the rich eventually dimming to writing about housekeeping, gardening and things of the mundane.  And her regret she attributed to that man whom she had a one-night conversation with.

They say that before you die, your life will flash before you like a movie in slow motion from your birth to that point in time.  I am asking you now.  Do you think you will smile before closing your eyes for the last time before reaching for that immense white light or will a tear drop from the corner of your eye for all the regret, shame or utter monotony of it all?