an adventure called life

Magellan

2012-02-01T14:08:00.000+08:00

One thing that never fails to crack me up is Yoyoy Villame's song Magellan. I love everything about this song -- Yoyoy's squeaky voice, the cheerful tune, the unashamedly Bisaya cadence of the it's-so-bad-it's-good English lyrics. From the Palm days to the iPad days, I've always had this song on hand. It's a guaranteed blues buster.

Magellan from Gaya Saberon on Vimeo.

#itsmorefuninthephilippines, totally. :D

the case for piracy: bad movies

2012-01-27T12:57:00.000+08:00

That's it: I'm illegally downloading all my movies from now on. (Well, maybe not The Hobbit.) The last two movies we saw in the cinema were so bad, we wanted to throw ourselves off the Ayala fourth floor balcony for having paid P160 each to see them.

Second to the last was The Immortals, a film so concerned with its color palette that it forgot it was supposed to have a STORY -- you know, one that actually makes sense? Even Aivan, who can forgive a two-star plot if it is told in four-star battle scenes, left the movie theater shaking his head. Somebody stop the pseudo-Greek myths, please.

We actually had high hopes for the movie we watched yesterday afternoon. Haywire had a respectable supporting cast -- Michael Fassbender, Channing Tatum, Ewan McGregor, Michael Douglas, Antonio Banderas -- and it was an action movie. How bad can it get, right?

(Romantic comedy-slash-action movies are another thing altogether. I still can't get over how bad Killers was.)

Turns out it can get really bad. You need to get through a third of the movie before you figure out what's going on, and then it never really achieves believability. If I were truly a heartless criminal, why wouldn't I just bomb the journalist's safehouse and shoot the girl? Stuff like that happens all the time, and no one need be wiser. The limp plot and the minimalist score -- in the one action movie that truly needed the prop of loud sound effects and pulse-racing music -- had us all in a stupor at the end.

"Taasa pa sa adlaw uy," the ticket attendant sighed as we passed him on the way out.

"I'm just gonna go to the bathroom and bang my head on the wall," Aivan said.

It's more fun in the Philippines!

2012-01-08T18:54:00.000+08:00

I love the new campaign by the Department of Tourism!

The positioning is clear, the slogan easily rolls off the tongue, and the logo is a visual treat. I also love how anyone can take "It's more fun in the Philippines" and run with it to different directions -- a brilliant strategy, considering the limited tourism budget and the unlimited enthusiasm of Pinoys for social networking.

Of course I immediately went to work! Below is just some of the stuff that I came up with:

Children playing in the lovely Boracay beach (2011)

A long stretch of white sand in Bohol (2009)

Aivan traversing a hanging bridge in Loboc, Bohol (2011)

And, really, if I can do it, anyone can. It is more fun in the Philippines!

an inside look at the medical profession, from an almost-outsider

2012-01-08T02:48:00.002+08:00

All the times people have asked me why I haven't gone into residency training, all the times I've thought of writing about it and telling people to just check out my blog...and someone beats me to it.

The Top 10 Reasons Why You Should Not Go To Medical School...And The Single Reason You Should

For a bit of balance, read the Comments section -- predictably, it is a mash of people who agree quite vigorously, people who think the article has valid points but respectfully disagree with its conclusion, and people who think the author is the world's biggest a**hole. (Maybe it's a good thing I didn't write it first, eh?)

People have different ideas about it because we all value different things in different ways. For some people, any sacrifice is worth it, just to see the smile on a patient's face as he goes home healed -- no doubt about it, these are the people who should be in the medical field.

Personally, I'm not too bothered with the prospect of losing friends -- I'm the type of person who can still call a friend a friend even if I only see her every other Christmas -- but I can relate to pretty much all the other reasons:

No time for loved ones? Check. Your loved ones will understand, mind you...but that's not the point. I feel that relationships, even the strongest ones, need to be nurtured, protected and valued. I don't think, to be quite honest, that a happy patient is worth a lonely husband or an unattached kid.
Getting to the point of disliking your patients for stealing your life? Check. You could be getting your precious few hours of sleep, and still some people will text you, call you, or knock on your door. When you're dog-tired and super-stressed, how could you not resent such intrusions into what little life you have left?
Dubious remuneration...well, that depends. If you are reasonably good at what you do and have excellent PR skills, you probably won't have to worry about money. If you don't have too many scruples, the opportunities for earning will be endless. (I know a gastroenterologist who scopes practically any patient with a mouth or a butt hole, and I know obstetricians who are C-section trigger-happy.) There will be "rebates" and "tie-ups" and whatever else they call bribes these days. And, really, even if you're pure as the driven snow, the fulfillment you will earn from practicing medicine will keep you from constantly comparing your income to that of your peers.

I have a few reasons of my own, too, for not going into residency training and, eventually, clinical practice. Some will seem trivial, but all of them are true. Here they are, off the top of my head:

I don't function well without sleep. I just don't.
Small talk is not my strong suit. When I'm not with friends, I tend to keep to myself and think my own thoughts. PR requires a lot of effort on my part. I can smile at patients and engage them and really be genuinely interested in their lives...but I can only do that for a short period of time before my internal battery gets drained.
I can't kiss ass. And I don't want to. The more someone thinks he's a god, the more I tend to stay silent and sullen...not a good thing in a profession where a lot of people have delusions of divinity. Oh, yes, there's a lot of politics in medicine!
Work-life balance is really, really important to me. I don't want to end up hating my source of livelihood, but that is a very real possibility if, by devoting so much of my life to medicine, I end up not being able to do the things I really want to do.

It's easier for me to walk away, I think, because being a doctor isn't a childhood dream; it's more like a vocation that didn't work out the way I thought it would. Also, I'm not a guilt-tripper. Also, I'm good at a lot of other things. Also, with the exception of my family, I don't much care what other people think.

I've come across people who think that doctors who don't go into clinical practice have some sort of moral disease. I tried to think of an appropriate adjective for this point of view and "narrow-minded" was the nicest and mildest. A person can have many talents, and fulfillment can come in many forms.

Why should a person stop searching for what he's really good at and what he really wants to do with his life, just because he went to med school? Sir Arthur Conan Doyle might have made a good medical man, but he touched so many more lives by writing Sherlock Holmes. And there are so many ways of making a difference. Bill Gates and Warren Buffett are both smart enough to be doctors, but they both did their own things, and now the foundation they set up are saving countless lives across the globe.

Doctors who love what they do and wouldn't trade it for anything else should, by all means, stay in the profession. But if you're a doctor who feels, somehow, that the clinical life isn't for you, don't be afraid to do something else. It's your life.

you reap what you sow, but only 2/3

2012-01-07T00:27:00.000+08:00

Here in the Philippines, almost 1/3 of a hardworking person's income can go to taxes.

When you're a kid, you're told to study hard so you can get a good job so you and your family can live a comfortable life. No one ever tells you that you get to reap only a little over 2/3 of what you sow.

One can argue that a person keeling over from the gut punch of her taxes is much, much luckier than the person scrambling to find his next meal. And that's true.

But still. One-third! How is that fair?

2012

2012-01-01T23:18:00.001+08:00

If every morning you wake up and find yourself still alive is a new chance to start fresh and live right, imagine what a whole new year can do.

Instead of resolutions, I'm going to make wishes:

I wish for A to find a job that he loves and will love him back.
I wish for L to finish her thesis and move on to better and better things.
I wish for M and P to find peace with each other, let go of all the negativity, and be able to find unconditional love and support from each other.
I wish for B to be healthy and happy, good and strong, kind and brave.
I wish for my OF sufficient wealth and wisdom.
I wish for all my other LO all the things that they need.
I wish for peace, justice and prosperity for my C.

And for myself? I can think of many things, but mostly I just want to be happy.

2011

2011-12-31T23:59:00.092+08:00

I wish I could say 2011 was a good year for me.

There were good moments, definitely. I made new friends, started doing something exciting, went places.

But there were lows too. This year I was sad a lot, I was tired a lot, I lost a lot.

Mostly I was just trying to catch up with life as it happened, trying to deal with the bruises that came with the tumbles, trying -- at times, almost failing -- to pick myself up and start running again.

It's funny: my sister keeps thinking of that line in Og Mandino's Credenda that describes life as a blink of an eye between two eternities. I keep thinking of another line from the same source: "Be jealous of your time, since it is your greatest treasure."

I think of all the time I could have spent with loved ones, all the time I spent on making a living instead of making a life, all the time I could have spent making myself and other people happy. The worst thing I can do now, though, is to spend all the time I have left grieving for time I had lost, and for things that cannot be changed.

Someday I want to look back on my 2011 as the wind that blew through my life, throwing all its little pieces up to the air and causing them to fall where they should have been all along. I think I will look back someday and realize that everything that happened this year -- all the good things, all the bad things -- were things that I needed to reorient my life and remind me of my priorities. If I come out of this wiser, if everything I learned makes me a better person, then perhaps 2011 was worth it.

Merry Christmas lo...

2011-12-24T20:57:00.000+08:00

I miss you.

traveling and writing

2011-10-14T01:15:00.001+08:00

I've always thought it would be crazy awesome if I were a travel writer. Who wouldn't want to get paid to travel around the world and write about it, right? I've realized, though, that it's not quite as simple as that.

Traveling can be stressful. It involves planning routes, catching trains, finding ways to make the most out of each place. It involves packing and repacking, trying to travel light while making sure you have something appropriate for every situation. Sometimes it involves holding your bladder if you can't find a bathroom or holding your breath if someone in your train compartment has had too much garlic for lunch (like right this very moment, dammit).

More here: http://smalltowngirls-midnighttrains.blogspot.com/

tinker tailor too-late

2011-09-30T10:24:00.002+08:00

Aaarrrrgh!!!

When I received word that Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy will be opening the Ghent Film Festival on October 11 -- Ghent, which is only 45 minutes away by car from Bruges, which is where I will be on October 11 -- I hurriedly headed over to the festival website and found that I could purchase tickets online.

There were €7 tickets available, but they were for the October 13 screening, and I will be nowhere near Ghent on that day.

There were €10 tickets available for October 12, but the screening would take place at 10:30 PM, by which time I needed to be on a train (ticket already booked) to go somewhere else.

The only hope left was the October 11 8:15 PM screening.

There were a few tickets still available...but only for the film plus reception, which cost a total of €100.

Nooooooooooooo!!!!

Not my lucky day.

landslides

2011-09-28T00:02:00.001+08:00

Been busy over at the other blog. It's not that I actually have lots of time to write a travel blog, but as I'm researching all sorts of stuff for our trip, I might as well write it all down in one place.

My lolo has been a little sick recently, but his labs have been improving, so it looks like he's on the road to recovery, and I'm really, really happy about it. :)

The past few weeks have been a little rough, but I think things are looking up. I may actually get to go to sleep tonight without a frown on my face. Yay!

Finally, I've been LSS-ing on this song lately:

Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love?
Can the child within my heart rise above?
And can I sail through the changing ocean tides
Can I handle the seasons of my life?

I actually think I can. :-)

sorry

2011-09-18T16:37:00.001+08:00

Forty days ago, my uncle hanged himself. To this day, whenever I allow myself to really think of what happened, I still can't help asking him why -- why he had to give up, why he had to do this to himself. I still break down in tears wondering what he must have been thinking of when he put the rope around his head. Was it a well-deliberated decision to leave the world on his own terms? Or did he really think that no one loved him or cared for him? This is the question that really pains and nags me the most.

It wasn't too long ago that I said I would chat with him if I had more time. Now I never will. When I received my mother's message informing me that my uncle had killed himself, I couldn't help thinking that, for the first time in my life, I had truly, thoroughly and irrevocably failed someone.

My uncle was sick. He had aphasia, a condition he acquired when he hit his head on the pavement almost 10 years ago and sustained irreversible damage to the left side of his brain. He could understand what people were saying, and there was nothing wrong with his thoughts, but when he tried to say them out loud, he would end up saying the wrong things. He called my mom "Bacaray" instead of Nadette, and he once read Mentos as "Robar." He was at his most fluent when he was cussing. Swear words -- those he could speak without effort. It was when he tried hardest to speak correctly that he failed spectacularly.

Still, he tried. And as the years wore on, we grew to understand his hand gestures and his words-that-weren't-words. I remember whenever he came to our house to get his weekly groceries, he would always try to tell me I looked pretty. He was one of a very few people who did that -- complimented my appearance regularly -- and I really appreciated it. I like to think that he was fond of me and my sister. When we threw a surprise birthday party for my mother, he was the one who did all the work -- setting up the tent, trimming the grass, preparing kinilaw. When I expressed deep gratitude, he said, "Sus, ikaw gyud" and waved it off. It was no problem, he said.

I failed him.

He had no family of his own. He never married, and the only child he had didn't know he was the father. He had friends but theirs was a friendship that mostly congregated around the beer bottle. He was a more than competent electrician, but he had no work, for who would want to hire a man who couldn't speak?

I can only imagine what it must have been like to have so much going on inside his head and have no way of communicating it. I only can imagine what it's like to have so much life ahead and have no one in particular to share it with, nothing to do day in and day out. Is it any wonder that he gave it up?

It makes me so angry that the Church used to condemn suicides and refuse to say Mass for them. (They don't now.) It makes me so angry that some people still attach a stigma to people who kill themselves, and say they've committed the ultimate rejection of God. None of us knows what it's like to feel utterly helpless, hopeless, trapped in a shitty life. Some people get into a deep funk and manage to get out; that doesn't mean that those people who don't make it out are bad people. My uncle certainly wasn't a bad person. He had his faults: it certainly was his alcoholism that caused him to totally lose control of his body when a tricycle lightly bumped into him by accident, hitting his head, damaging his brain and his entire life that fateful night 10 years ago. But he wasn't a bad person, and whatever his sins were, the life he has lived since his accident has punished him enough.

Right now, I can only pray that his soul has found rest, that he is where he can be truly free. Sometimes I am afraid that he is still wandering in the shadows, but I hope that lights will eventually guide him Home, where people love him and actually take the time to let him know.

I'm sorry Uncle.

Maybe someday I'll find myself in Arles, and think of you, and maybe then I can find peace too.

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy

2011-09-18T09:33:00.000+08:00

Have I mentioned that I'm really looking forward to Tomas Alfredson's movie adaptation of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy? Hmmm. I think I may have...like, maybe, 1, 2...3 million times.

Here's the crazy awesome first trailer again:

TTSS doesn't have a Philippine release date yet, and I know it will probably bore the socks out of most people anyway, if and when it is shown here, but I'm not sure I care, just as long as I get to see it. Never in my life had I ever wanted to be in the UK more than last September 16, when TTSS was released there. And the cast! How can you not look forward to a film that stars Gary Oldman (an absolute rock star among actors), Colin Firth (HRH himself), the prolific Mark Strong (whom I've seen in so many films, I almost feel a deep loyalty to him now), the apparently delicious Tom Hardy (I haven't watched any of his films, so I can't attest to this yet), John Hurt (Mr. Ollivander!), Ciaran Hinds (Aberforth!), and a guy named Benedict Cumberbatch. Seriously, I used to look forward to watching Michael Fassbender's movies just because I liked his name, but I've found a new favorite in Benedict Cumberbatch (who will, incidentally, voice Smaug in the coming Hobbit movie).

But, mostly, my true favorite, and the person I truly feel loyal to, is Smiley. Le Carre's Smiley, Guinness' Smiley, Oldman's Smiley. Doesn't matter. For George I would steal the entire Circus library.

I did it!

2011-09-15T15:43:00.001+08:00

I finally wrote something new.

But not here.

I started a special blog for the special trip my sister and I are about to take. It's called Small-Town Girls, Midnight Trains because, well, we're small-town girls and we will be riding several midnight trains. A lot of things have happened since I last wrote here -- a lot of good things, and some really sad things as well -- and I hope to write about them eventually. For now, I figured, if I'm going to spend a lot of time researching for our trip, and if I'm going to spend a disproportionately high percentage of my income on it, I might as well make a blog out of it. And I just like writing. And traveling. And doing both at the same time? My idea of a good life.

of siestas and doors

2011-07-01T21:42:00.000+08:00

I am suddenly, inexplicably, busy. It's been a good sort of busy -- I've been meeting old friends, juggling jobs, pushing myself, going places -- but I sometimes find myself pining for the three-hour siestas of old. Power naps are totally not my thing. I down 2 cups of coffee a day nowadays, instead of just one, and that makes me a little sad. I much prefer to think of myself as a laid-back, hammock-by-the-beach sort of person.

I wouldn't change a thing, though. Discomfort can be good for the soul (or so I'm told).

And, anyway, I feel like I have no right to complain. There are people who do far more for far less. Life has been good to me. A lot of doors have been opened, and I feel like the least I can do is push at each one and see where it leads.

Today, two friends and I had coffee with a former teacher, and he told us he was really glad that we had found our place under the sun. Well, we haven't yet, I think. Not totally. But we're getting there, slowly but definitely, and that possibility is worth a whole lot of siestas.

how to not make an omelette

2011-06-11T09:50:00.000+08:00

The first time I tried it, I attempted to flip the egg before it had become sufficiently solid and I ended up with an egg mash.

The second time, I did not flip the egg soon enough and the sides turned too brown.

The third time, I added too much milk.

The fourth time, I added too much cheese.

This morning, I forgot to add salt.

As Thomas Edison would say, I am on my way to discovering 1000 ways to not make an omelette.

This I did not make.

But the sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and I only have around 995 attempts more to go before I perfect my technique. It's all good.

why I watch movies

2011-06-08T18:00:00.001+08:00

A bootleg copy of Red, the 2010 film starring Bruce Willis, Morgan Freeman, Helen Mirren and John Malkovich as ex-spies, had been figuratively gathering dust in my D drive until I learned who else was in the cast.

Karl Urban.

Nothing in the world could have induced me to go see Priest, not even if Karl Urban had sported long blond braided hair and kept shouting "Rohirrim!" in the movie -- which, anyway, I would presume he did not -- but Red I could handle. And I'm glad I did finally watch it: John Malkovich was precious as a paranoid old geezer, and the movie was fun!

And then last Saturday, a bunch of us trooped to the Ayala Cinema to see X-Men: First Class. By that time, several friends had proclaimed it awesome, but I admit I was looking forward to watching the movie for another reason: Mr. Tumnus, Quintus Dias, and the only man in the world who is zero degrees from Kevin Bacon. James McAvoy, with those eyes and intelligent charm, was the perfect Professor X. And who can resist a guy named Michael Fassbender?

"I have a new way to link Johnny Depp to Kevin Bacon!" I jubilantly declared to my husband, who rolled his eyes. (He was in The Tourist with Angelina Jolie, who was in Wanted with James McAvoy, who is in X-Men: First Class with Kevin Bacon! Previously, I had to go through Angelina being in Mr. and Mrs. Smith with Brad Pitt, who was in The Tree of Life with Sean Penn, who was...wait for it...in Mystic River with Kevin Bacon! I'm pretty sure Johnny Depp actually has a smaller Bacon number, but my fund of Kevin Bacon films is somewhat limited, and why for heaven's sake I persist in playing this game I can't say.)

And by the way, the movie was awesome.

So there it is: I sometimes watch movies for who's in them. What can I say? I'm shallow. Sometimes.

Oh, and I can now say I personally know someone who is only 2 degrees from Kevin Bacon. How cool is that?

that little dash

2011-06-01T14:43:00.000+08:00

We're all dying. Whether it's Armageddon, a sudden heart attack, a chronic illness, or just the long slow march to the grave, the mortality rate of the human race has been roughly 100% and we will not be the exception that justifies the "roughly," unless we do an Enoch, an Elijah, or a King Arthur -- and let's face it, what are the chances? Still, if it's any consolation, if you're reading this, you're unlikely to have kicked the bucket yet, and that's something.

To paraphrase Kevin Welch, there will be two dates on our tombstone, but all that's gonna matter is that little dash in between.

This bucket list is courtesy of AnaKat, CebuMD, JA, Atep, Brian, Remo, Chin and myself. The song Live Like You Were Dying is by Tim McGraw. Mel provides the necessary caveat: bucket lists, when we rely on them to give meaning to our existence, can become a source of disillusionment.

I think the greater part of happiness does rely on our contentment with who we are and what we have. Our dreams, on the other hand, are the wings with which we soar to new heights. They are the icing on an already delicious cake, so to speak. Will we be happier for having gone skydiving? Perhaps; perhaps not. But I'd still like to try.

* * * * * * * 

If I had more time, I would have written this sooner. ^_^

This is the 2nd edition of the 2nd season of The Blog Rounds: Voice of The Filipino Doctor.

someday, preferably now

2011-05-22T14:22:00.001+08:00

Do you sometimes find yourself thinking, "Oh, if only I had more time, I would do this..." or "If I were as rich as Mark Zuckerberg, I would buy that..."?

I do -- definitely not often enough to feel discontent or unhappy with my life in any way, but I could use some more time and a lot more money. 

Who doesn't, right? 

And yet there are stories of lottery winners who are overwhelmed by their sudden fortune and eventually wind up worse off than they were before they bought that lucky ticket. There are retirees who find themselves with a lot more time than they know what to do with: they suddenly feel useless and go into depression, or worse. So there must be a balance that needs to be struck, somewhere. At the very least, a little bit of planning is in order...and it's never too late to start.

Off the top of my head, these are the things I would do if I had more time (and more energy, otherwise I would just sleep):

  Write more
  Volunteer
  Chat with my aging lolo and my aphasic uncle
  Do crafts -- all sorts
  Start a business
  Start a garden
  Learn to cook -- really cook
  Learn to ride a bike, preferably before October
  Learn to take good photos
Sing (sorry neighbors)

If I had more money...ah, the possibilities. If I had all day to think about it, I'd come up with ten thousand things, instead of just ten, so, again, off the top of my head:

  Buy my father a farm
  Build a store for my mother
  Develop an eco-sustainable beach resort
  Buy controlling shares in a power plant
  Set up college/livelihood funds for hardworking relatives
  Visit a different place every month
  Save for an Antarctic cruise upon retirement
  Build and operate a MRT here in Cebu
  Invest in a trust fund and live off the interest
Do everything in my More Time list

(I know I said I'd buy a new camera, but somehow there were a lot of other things that seemed more important.)

"Shoot for the moon," they say. "Even if you miss, you'll land among the stars." This is a really stupid statement, I know -- unless they meant a moon orbiting a planet in another galaxy -- but there's no denying the importance of goals, or dreams. For one, they remind us that there is something more, out there, if we only have the sense to make the first move or take that first step. And sometimes those dreams are all we have, while caught in the daily grind of a world that can seem dreary. "Someday," we promise ourselves. "Someday." And that's something.


This is my entry to the second edition of The Blog Rounds: Voice of the Filipino Doctor (Season 2).

an adventure called being a wife

2011-05-21T13:55:00.000+08:00

My female friends tell me that being a mother is the most fulfilling  thing in the world, and I am sure that they're right. At this point  in my life, though, I'm really glad that I'm getting to enjoy just being a wife.

A lot of girls these days don't get to experience what it's like to have a husband but not have kids yet. I'm telling you: it's awesome. It's like being on a date 24/7. There are lows as well as highs, but they only serve to enrich the experience, as a little salt enhances the sweetness of the sugar in a cake. You know that now you're in it together, for better or worse. Your childish illusions about your partner slowly crumble, but they are replaced by a deeper appreciation for everything that your partner is and is not.

I'm learning a lot about my husband -- his quirks are a constant source of hilarity at the house. I'm also still learning how to be a good wife. If, at the same time, I had to learn how to be a good mother, I'm sure I would be gasping for air, just totally overwhelmed.

So, to all the girls out there: try not to do anything stupid, and don't be afraid to take your time. I promise you life will be so much better if you take it step by step. I suppose things will have a way of working out, whether you take the long way or the short cut in terms of building your own family, but you might just miss out on some beautiful scenes if you're in too much of a hurry.

The Blog Rounds, Season 2, 2nd ed.: A Call For Articles

2011-05-20T18:28:00.004+08:00

Time is gold, they say, and no one knows that better than a doctor. But what if you had more of both?

In this edition of The Blog Rounds, libre ang mangarap. Make a list of 10 things you would do right now if you had more time, and make another list of 10 things you would do if you had more money.

Feel free to be as shallow or as profound as you want. I promise we won't be judgmental! (I know I'm definitely putting a new camera in there.) Make a simple list, or make a ten-part epic out of it. No limits on the time and no limits on the gold. Let your imagination run wild...but be sure to turn in your entry by 12 noon on the 23rd of May (Monday).

This is a call for articles for the next edition of The Blog Rounds: Voice of the Filipino Doctor. The rules of engagement are over here. (I've somewhat messed with the schedule though.) Please leave a link to your entry in the Comments section of this post, or tag me in Facebook. I can't wait to read what everyone comes up with. It's a simple enough topic, but it should make for interesting introspection as well. ^_^

words

2011-05-15T12:00:00.003+08:00

When I first heard of blogging, I was more than a little skeptical. Why would anyone who doesn't already have a newspaper column or a job worthy of media attention be so presumptuous as to think that the world would care enough about his opinion to check out his blog? This was years ago, back when tweets were made by birds and Facebook was just the new Friendster.

Now I realize I asked the wrong question. It was like asking: Why do people talk? Why would anyone think that anyone else wanted to hear what he had to say? Blogging, and tweeting and Facebooking are just different ways of communicating, and we prefer the medium that suits our purpose. We communicate because we are humans: that is what we do. We communicate to others, and we communicate to ourselves. We communicate to stay alive, and we communicate because we want to make life worth living.

I started my blog, despite my reservations, because I felt like I had something to say, and it didn't matter whether anyone wanted to listen or not. "Wala lang," I wrote in one of my first posts. "The thought just entered my mind and I decided to preserve it here." I wrote of death, of friends, of family, of travel. In my very first post, I wrote of the adventure of living on my own. I wrote of bass amps and how they can tear whole Med classes apart. Those early posts, untitled and unpolished, remain my favorites.

I love words. I love how the right words can come together to create a good sentence, and the right sentences, a good paragraph. I continue to be amazed at how a good paragraph can transport one back to a good memory, or give one a glimpse into a friend's life. A piece of writing does so much, and so much more, and that is why I will continue to blog.

the island

2011-05-07T00:25:00.086+08:00

As the white hotel van slowly made its way through the crowded Boracay main road, transporting us steadily from Diniwid Beach to port, from four-day getaway to reality, I found myself looking back on my stay at the island and wondering: was it worth it? Was Boracay all I expected and hoped it would be? To sun worshippers, perhaps, or lovers of sand, surf and parties, the answer would be an easy yes. For me, it isn't quite as clear cut.

DAY 1. My first time to fly Seair was an adventure, to say the least. The plane was so...cute! Each row only had 3 seats -- A, D and F -- and there were only around 11 rows in all. The small size also meant that there was "turbulence" every time we encountered the faintest wisp of cloud. My intestines had a field day doing all sorts of somersaults inside my tummy.

The Seair plane had a rugged, old bus feel to it, if you know what I mean: the frame occasionally rattled, small parts of the rubber seal around the windows had started coming off, and the air conditioning wasn't switched on until we had taken off. I was impressed, though, at the fact that the stewardess -- there was only one of her -- gave each of us a small bottle of water near the end of the flight. Hey, you don't get that from Cebu Pac or Air Phil!

We landed safely enough at the Caticlan airport, where there wasn't so much an Arrivals hall as an Arrivals tent (just with a metal roof). Instead of a baggage carousel, there was a baggage table: the airport personnel got your bags from the plane and put them on a long, brown, chipped wooden table; you show them your luggage tag and you get your bag. Simple and fast, if not quite high tech.

Caticlan is actually a coastal barangay in the island of Panay. There is no airport in the island of Boracay itself, so most planes land in the Caticlan airport. (Some land in Kalibo, which is a bit farther.) From the Caticlan jetty, there are frequent boat trips -- as often as every 10 minutes -- to Boracay island. The water journey itself only takes around 20 minutes.

The Boracay port was bustling, mostly with people who were leaving the island, as we had arrived on a Sunday. There were streamers for all sorts of products or services everywhere, our first glimpse, as it were, into the extent of commercialization in the island. "Enjoy Boracay with Visa," one ad urged, not knowing that that was precisely how we had gotten there in the first place: an impulse purchase of on-sale plane tickets enabled by a little plastic card. Bully for Visa.

Boracay has a staggering number of accommodation options. My choice to stay at Orinda Beach Resort was as much influenced by its name -- Dick Francis has a book that has a character named Orinda -- as by its features. It proved to be a good choice, though. Orinda is located in Diniwid Beach, almost at the northern tip of the island, which meant that it was thankfully far enough from the crowds yet near enough that one can take a leisurely stroll to Station 2 in less than an hour. To be honest, the resort is not as pretty as its website makes it out to be, but it's got the amenities that count: free breakfast, free shuttle rides to and from D'Mall, free Wifi, great staff, air conditioning, a hot-and-cold shower, and its own beach front. It's good enough value for roughly P2500 a night.

One of Boracay's biggest surprises, for me, was the amount of algae along White Beach.

I guess I was expecting blindingly white sand as far as the eye can see; I did not expect the strips of green brought in by the tides. The locals assured me that it was a seasonal occurrence. Moreover, they said, once sun-dried the algae would turn into white powder. I have yet to ask my marine biologist sister if this is true, but she did say that the algae was seasonal, in the sense that, at certain times of the year, it would pop up on certain parts of the beach, and at other times, on other parts.

Having arrived mid-afternoon, Aivan and I decided to spend the rest of the day walking towards Station 2, which is where the main beach is located. The stroll took us through concrete paths as well as bare sand; we walked past quiet, secluded areas as well as lively, watery playgrounds for the island kids. 

We arrived at Station 2 just as the sun was beginning to set, its light starting to play tricks with the water. As Aivan and I watched the water turn dark blue gray, the setting sun casting sparks of gold on the liquid surface, I thought: yes, this is the other side of Boracay. In between the hectic highs of the day and the vibrant beat of the night, there was this narrow window of serenity, when this famed island, just like any other island, slows and settles down, even for just a few seconds, and marks the passage of time.

DAY 2. The thing about Boracay is: there are a lot of things to do if your wallet is thick and your idea of a good time is a string of temporary highs. You can do reef walking (P350-P500 / 20 minutes), parasailing (P1200 / 30 minutes), paraw sailing (P500-P600 / hour), and island hopping (P1200-P1500 / 3-4 hours), all in one day. You can ride an ATV (P500), a buggy (P1000), a Zorb (P400), or a banana boat (P200-P400), or you can ride of all them, albeit preferably not at the same time. You can learn to dive, surf, windsurf, wakeboard, kiteboard, or even...golf. Yes, this small island has a golf course. Boracay is a one-stop shop for thrills, and if you're willing to pay for those, four days will be too short.

On the other hand, if you're a bit tihik like me, you could run out of things to do by your second day in Boracay.

Aivan and I spent the morning of our second day taking intermittent dips in the waters of Diniwid Beach and walking leisurely along the shore -- as leisurely as could be possible under a glaring summer sun.

We paused every now and then for photos. One time, I sat beside Aivan and took a snap of our feet against a backdrop of fine sand, clear water and blue sky.

"You're trying to do a Jeffroger Kho!" Aivan laughed. (The then RockPaperScissors trio of Jeff Kho, Jon Tolentino and Gilby Chua were our wedding photographers.)

A professional photographer I am not, but that was how we eventually spent the day: walking, wading and taking lots and lots of photos.

At noon we took the shuttle to D'Mall, which is located in Station 2. This area of White Beach is the center of Boracay, both literally and figuratively. D'Mall, an open-air, uniform-roofed cluster of restaurants, boutiques and souvenir shops, also has a convenience store, a drugstore and public toilets.

Our first meal at D'Mall, for lack of better ideas, was at Mang Inasal, which, along with Andok's, probably offers the cheapest eats in the area.

One restaurant in D'Mall that I'd heard a lot about was The Hobbit House. The staff were, shall we say, hobbit-sized, although, as far as I could tell, none of them had hairy feet. I wondered if people found the concept somewhat discriminatory, as I did, but waiting tables was at least an honest job and definitely less demeaning than appearing for laughs in TV shows.

If you're bringing kids to Boracay, you might like to know that D'Mall also has a small Ferris wheel and several ice cream shops.

Aivan and I indulged in Crazy Crepes...and later wished we hadn't. I had a parfait -- a chocolate overload, or something as yummy-sounding -- but the richness of the cream made me feel queasy after just a few spoonfuls. I had to distract my taste buds with salt (a pack of cheese Piattos) and soda (a can of Coke): overall, not the healthiest afternoon snack of my life.

After a while, Aivan and I got bored and decided to head over to Station 3. The guard at D'Mall gave us a really useful transpo tip: a trike hailed at the curve in front of Budget Mart will mean a "special trip" with a correspondingly special fare of around P100.

Walk just a few meters ahead, though, and you can hail tricycles plying their regular routes, usually with a sign saying "Individual" hanging on the windshield. We did this and paid only P10 for a ride to Station 3.

A thirty- to forty-minute walk south of Station 2, the Station 3 beach somehow felt wider: even with boats docking and people swimming, there was enough space for playing Frisbee, sunbathing or simply lounging around.

The walkway was still lined with shops but was less crowded. There appeared to be more beach front hotels here than in Station 2. And there was a lot of beach chairs lining the shore, which I loved; one could take a stroll and simply plop down the nearest chair when tired or hot or hungry.

Aivan spotted an isaw stand, and we enjoyed a second afternoon snack, this time consisting of hotdogs dunked in super spicy sauce. We then made our way to a small sari-sari stand, where we each downed a bottle of Coke. Next to the sari-sari stand was a sign pointing to the talipapa, so we followed the arrows, through a narrow alley where there were such lodgings as The Facebook Resort (not, I presume, owned by Mark Zuckerberg).

The talipapa was originally a wet market, where people could buy fresh seafood and have it cooked by nearby carenderias. The concept has since expanded to include fast food stands and the ubiquitous souvenir shops. Not really fancying an expensive seafood meal -- wet market or not, the prices here are set with tourists in mind -- Aivan and I headed back to the beach.

On our way back to Station 2, we passed a row of low beds with mattresses where local women offered P350/hour massages.

Slightly sore from all the walking we'd been doing since morning, Aivan and I were tempted to indulge. Then we remembered that we could get hour-long massages for less than P100 back in Cebu. I guess that's one of the drawbacks with traveling to a place so similar to your own: you're always thinking that you can easily get something better or cheaper, or both, back home.

Again, we arrived at Station 2 just in time for the sunset.

A lot of people actually gather on the beach to watch the sunset, while some take advantage of the last light to swim.

In the distance, the sailboats on sunset cruises drifted slowly, waiting for the sun to go down.

And then, after just a few minutes, the show was over.

DAY 3. Finally we had an activity planned for the day: a sunset cruise in a paraw, arranged for us by one of the Cebuano staff at Orinda. But first there was the matter of getting through all those hours before sunset.

"What do you wanna do?"

"Hmmm. Nothing in particular."

"Well... Is there any activity that you would regret not trying if we never came back to Boracay?"

"Not really."

(What can I say? We are a boring couple with little to no tendency to indulge in either frivolous spending or counterfactual thinking. And what's so exciting about reef walking anyway? We've tried feeding and swimming around fish before. If we were to ever learn scuba diving, it might as well be in Malapascua, where there are thresher sharks. Banana boat? Been there. Island hopping? Ditto, several times over, and it really only works if you're in a group. Parasailing? If it were free, perhaps, but otherwise I could think of better, cheaper highs. Horseback riding, on the other hand...but it was too late to research where.)

And this was how we were tempted to accept the offer of a free lunch buffet at the Astoria, even though we knew we would have to pay for it by listening to endless sales talk.

Let's put it this way: if you really have nothing to do, or if you really have no money for lunch, go for the free meal. But be aware that the 90 minutes they ask of you do not include the time you spend eating and could easily extend to more than 3 hours if you're not careful. Don't say you weren't warned.

The sunset cruise could not come soon enough. It was worth the wait, though.

Out there, on the water, talking with the boatman and his nephew with the wind in all our faces, that for me was the most memorable experience in our entire stay.

We spoke of the island, of tourist season, of life and its hardships. I asked the 12-year-old nephew what he planned to do when he grew up.

"Ganito pa rin," he replied: sailing a paraw, sharing his island with its visitors.

I hope for his sake that Boracay continues to be paradise on earth, for those who see it that way, 5, 10, 15 years from now. But fifty years from now...who can tell? Already, Boracay is being stretched to the beginnings of its limit. Already, it is showing signs of strain.

Telling, perhaps, is the conversation I overheard between the hotel manager and the van driver on the way to the port. The manager was griping about the haughty attitudes of the bigger players in the Boracay resort scene. "Akala ba nila forever to'ng Boracay?" he said. "Naku. Fifteen years, wala na to'ng Boracay."

I hope he's wrong. I think we all do. But perhaps that's the biggest reason to visit Boracay now: to see what the hype is all about, before it's too late. And in that sense, I guess, our semi-boring four-day visit was worth it.

I'm not a blogger.

2011-05-02T11:59:00.000+08:00

This will sound snobbish, but I sort of squirm when people call me a blogger. I do write in a blog. Someday I'd like to be a writer who happens to have a blog. And even now I'm actually proud of this blog, warts and all (with more warts than all, I know). But to be called a blogger, well, um, it's not exactly my dearest ambition.

It's just that a lot of the "successful" bloggers I know are, shall we say, commercially oriented. I'd like to be able to write what I want, because I want to. I'd like to be able to say something sucks if it really does. I'd like my readers to rub their hands and say, "Yay, a new post!" when they see one, even if they complain afterwards, "Well, that sucked," rather than see a new post from me, yawn and go, "It's not like I'm busy. I might as well see what product it's about this time."

There's nothing wrong with making a living out of doing what you're good at, but by definition that requires being actually good at it, at writing, which I would like to believe is still, even nowadays, a creative, honest process. If mere content-producing, name-dropping, and sponsor-groveling qualify one to be a blogger, I'm sure you'll understand if I'm not jumping up and down, waving my hand, and screaming "Count me in."

Some blogs can tell you with authority where to go and what to eat but can't describe how it feels to ride your first horse or the deep pleasure of a delicious meal shared with friends. Some blogs provide a plethora of facts but don't give you an insight to the person behind the pen. Some blogs tell you how to live but can't tell you what it means to be alive. Between mere blogging and writing, I would like to challenge myself to do the latter.

***

Today, May 2, is World Bloggers' Day. I'm not joining in the festivities, not because I'm a right old snob, but because I'll hopefully be in a beach by the time you're reading this. Today is also the birthday of my good friend Bingbing, who warmed my heart some time ago by congratulating me on writing a post that, well, I can't remember what exactly she said, but something to the effect of: I'm writing the way I used to write. (I myself read my old posts and go, "Omigosh, I used to write well! What happened?!") Also, if things go as planned, May 2, 2010 will mark exactly one year before another good friend, Hershe, gets married to my old elementary classmate, Cheerwin. Many happy returns to all of you! ^_^

♥ kate and wills ♥

2011-04-25T09:41:00.006+08:00

While I don't recall ever dreaming of marrying an actual prince, I'm rather excited that Kate Middleton is soon to marry hers. Aside from the innate attractiveness of a commoner marrying a prince with (1) a name the length of a mile -- His Royal Highness Prince William Arthur Philip Louis of Wales, to be exact, with the official surname of Mountbatten-Windsor, (2) a smile that is not half-bad, and (3) a legitimate excuse to wear hats such as this one

there is also the fact that the two of them look genuinely happy together in a relaxed, as-equals sort of way.

Not only is Kate inspiring women everywhere to don trenchcoats (ahem), her upcoming wedding is also apparently inspiring an uptick in the British bookmaking industry. There are the usual bets -- the color of Queen Elizabeth's hat is said to be a regular draw during Ascot races and currently stands at 5-4 in favor of yellow -- and then there are innovative ones, such as:

Prince Philip falling asleep during the ceremony
(Give the guy a break; he's 89. He is also, incidentally, worshipped as a god by members of a cult in Vanuatu.)
Odds: 8-1

Elton John being the first to cry
Odds: 8-1

"Truly happy to be here" as the first cliche in the Bishop of London's speech
Odds: 11-4

The maid of honor is usually the favorite to catch the bride's bouquet, and the betting public is placing their money on that at 3-1 odds...despite reports that Kate will not be tossing her bouquet and will be leaving it instead on the grave of the Unknown Warrior at Westminster Abbey. Now that's giving away money. Then again, you can bet I'll be glued to the television screen on April 29, despite the fact that I don't own a television. Such things as odds fade in significance during fairy tale weddings. Here's hoping the royal couple-to-be will beat them odds and live happily ever after.

--------------------
Updates: random thoughts while glued to the tube

I want a hat!

Hmm. Harry has broader shoulders.

Oh look! Royal V-hires!

Prince Charles is looking better and better with time. I'm sorry for Diana, but I'm glad he eventually got married to the woman he actually loved.

Hah! The Queen has got on a yellow hat. Congratulations to those who bet on yellow...at such short odds, probably not worth that much, but a win's a win for all that.

I totally approve of the trees. When you've got a church as jaw-dropping as that, elaborate floral arrangements would be overkill. The trees are stately and they bring a touch of freshness to what might otherwise be a stuffy setting. This must be what Hogwarts looked like when Hagrid brought in all those real pine trees for Christmas.

I wonder how old Charles will be when he finally ascends to the throne. Elizabeth doesn't look like she's kicking the bucket anytime soon.

Harry is my mum's favorite royal. He's got a look like he could do something mischievous at any time. I'm reminded of Prince Corin's reaction when he found out that Shasta was going to be king instead of him: "Hurrah! I shan't have to be King. It's princes have all the fun."

Kate is so pretty! And I love her dress; it's beautiful and sensible and classic at the same time.

Those flower girls are so cute! (I'm sounding more and more like a girl. But it's okay, since I am.)

If I were sitting behind the queen, I wouldn't wear such a hideous hat.

Well, it looks like Kate didn't leave her bouquet at the tomb of the unknown warrior. There's hope for Pippa catching it then.

Awww. A carriage ride. I want one! And a horse.

The girl with the hat that looked like convoluted ram's horns was one of Prince Andrew's daughters?!

I want a horse!

Which reminds me: I promised Aivan I'd take him to London one day, even if I have to work myself to death to afford it.

I want a horse!

Goodluck

2011-04-19T18:53:00.001+08:00

I still get the giggles every time I think about Nigeria's president, Goodluck Jonathan. My own name means happiness, so I probably don't have much right to get the giggles at anyone's name, but Goodluck Jonathan's name is a sentence all by itself. It's probably worth a few votes too. I've voted for a Joker Arroyo (senator) and a Cutie del Mar (congressman) in my lifetime, but it would be really fun to vote for somebody named Goodluck.

Good luck with that promise, Jonathan.

I'm having a blast thinking up possible names for my dogs and kids. I'm thinking my dog should have his name changed to Wakeup Jack. And I've already asked my mother how she would feel about having a grandchild named Keepitup Saberon.

Goodluck's wife is named Patience. I wonder if my husband will consent to have his name changed to Closethefaucet Aivan.

tough place indeed

2011-04-16T15:55:00.005+08:00

In my last post I went on for a bit about how imprudently some people manage their money. But the truth is: there are a lot of people who work to death, and scrimp, and save, and still have barely enough to get by. This BBC documentary about a London bus driver who takes on the challenge of driving a jeepney in Manila was a real eye-opener for me -- not as much, perhaps, as it was for people who have never lived in the Philippines, but an eye-opener just the same.

The show brings up a bunch of issues -- family planning, rural underdevelopment, and gut-wrenching poverty -- but the scene that struck me most was when Josh West and Rogelio Castro talk about the differences in their circumstances. Josh reflects on how they basically have the same job, and how the huge gap in the quality of their lives is due in large part because he was born where he was, and Rogelio was born where he was. And that part, in a later scene, where Josh is crying and saying that Rogelio shouldn't have to work so hard for so little, had me crying as well.

Why? Why do people suffer? Why are some people born rich and others born poor? Why do some people make it out of poverty while some never do, no matter how hard they try? There are no easy answers, and perhaps there is no answer, not in this world. Maybe life is about taking on the challenge of doing the best we can with what we have, and going from there.

live simply

2011-04-08T22:15:00.000+08:00

It's awful having to worry about money, but it seems to be an unavoidable part of growing up. Not only do you have to control your spending habits, you have to think about how others' will affect you. It really does amaze me how some people rely on borrowed cash or on relatives to get by. I get that some people have to, but there is a ridiculous number of people who splurge on expensive stuff, sponge up non-essentials, then turn to others for help in paying their bills.

So, note to self:

I'll make sure to teach this to my kids too.

Thank you Ma and Pa for always stressing the difference between needs and wants.

And it's true: the best things in life are free. Think about that, and you'll feel less compelled to spend frivolously on things that can give but momentary highs.

the non-problem with alcohol

2011-04-06T20:02:00.000+08:00

My name is Ligaya, and I am not an alcoholic.

I have the opposite problem. I haven't found an alcoholic drink that I like.

Now that is not, strictly, a problem. I have never done stupid things while drunk, never had to shell out a ridiculous amount of money for a disproportionate amount of liquid, never had to worry about liver disease. What's the problem with that, right? But I could see my aversion to alcohol becoming as much of a problem if I were visiting, say, the Napa Valley, as if I had an aversion to lechon and were visiting Cebu.

My mother made punch laced with gin for many New Year's Eves when I was a kid, and I always enjoyed it. And I love black forest cakes. But alcohol straight up? Not a chance. I once took a tiny sip of martini and was put off for life. Bailey's always looks promising, but whenever I tip a glass into my mouth I get a faint whiff of alcohol and promptly set the glass back down. My sister, two friends and I actually went wine tasting at the Wine Museum in Macau, and boy did I not enjoy my money's worth.

What can I say? I'm a plebeian. I would rather drink Nestea iced tea than Côtes du Rhône. When push comes to shove, I could always feign an allergy.

Choose to love. Take the high road. Forgive, and you free yourself.

2011-04-06T19:06:00.000+08:00

I am blessed to have good people around me, people who inspire me and set good examples. That I don't always act on their inspiration or follow the examples they set is immaterial. I would be a far worse person if they weren't around. Thank you Lord for giving me friends and family who teach me to...

finding someone

2011-03-30T22:45:00.005+08:00

An essay entitled Date A Girl Who Reads became very popular around Valentines Day this year. It was written by Rosemarie Urquico (but I found it here), supposedly in response to another popular essay, this one by Charles Warnke, entitled You Should Date An Illiterate Girl. (In case you feel tempted to jump to conclusions, You Should Date An Illiterate Girl does not encourage dating an illiterate girl at all. It's a beautiful piece that girls who read should read before feeling slighted.) As a girl who reads I feel flattered, but in all honesty I don't think there is one type of girl or guy that would fit all. As cliched as it may sound, I think what matters is really just how much you love each other. Still, you don't get to the point of unconditional love in an instant. A few rules of thumb can't hurt, so, for this year's 31st of March, I'd like to list down some of the things I've learned about finding the right person.

***

Find someone who is willing to love another person more than he loves himself. Love very often means doing and wanting what is best for the other, even at a detriment to oneself. Avoid someone who does not have the capacity to do that.

Find someone you respect. In a relationship, you won't always have it your way. When you do have to concede, it will be easier if you know that you are giving in to someone who is worthy, whose heart is in the right place.

Find an equal. You don't have to have the same talents, the same amount of cash in your pockets, the same force of personality, but the sum of everything should somehow be equal. A relationship dominated by just one partner is one of the most painful things to watch.

Find someone you can trust. Nothing erodes love more insidiously yet completely than doubt, especially if it is well-founded. If you can't trust someone, walk away. If you can trust him, do, and stop second-guessing.

Find someone who does not have a history of treating his previous girlfriends badly. Whether it's beating them, cheating on them, or just not treating them as well as he should have, there are no excuses. Change is possible, but don't count on it. You deserve so much better. Every girl, every person, deserves to be treated right, especially by the one to whom she gave her heart.

Find someone who can make you laugh, or at least make you smile. Life won't be a walk in the park, but it will help if you have someone walking beside you who can lighten your heart. Avoid whiners. Avoid people who think the world owes them something. Avoid people who feel they are always misunderstood, as there is probably a very good reason why others think that way about them.

If you can, find someone who can grill fish at the beach. Find someone who can replace light bulbs and fix faucets. Find someone who will wash the dishes for you because he sees you're feeling sad. If this is not possible, at least find someone who tries.

Finally, find a good person. Find someone who inspires you to be a better person yourself. Find someone who can be entrusted with your heart, and your life, because that is what love entails. Find someone who will love you the way you deserve to be loved, and when you do, love him back with every last ounce of strength you have.

2011-03-29T20:16:00.000+08:00

better together

2011-03-26T00:12:00.001+08:00

If March 26, 1982 hadn't happened, none of this would have happened either.

Happy birthday to the crazy, awesome, not to mention handsome, guy in this video.

mamu

2011-03-18T00:02:00.002+08:00

Ever since I could remember, she has loved me with all her heart.

She has fed me, bathed me, clothed me, and taken care of me, with little regard for her own well-being.

She has scolded me, taught me, corrected me, punished me, and pushed me, all because she cared.

She has taught me to be strong, but she remains ready to fight by my side.

She has prepared me for life as best as she could, but she has never stopped trying to provide what I need or grant what I wish.

She has no days off, but she hardly ever complains.

She has been hurt countless times, most of all by us, the people she loves, but she continues to love us as if she has never been hurt.

She has served unconditionally and given without expecting anything in return.

She has shown me what real love is.

She has touched the lives of countless people and made this world a better place simply by being herself and doing what she can.

She has been doing all this for 60 years today.

I love you very much ma. Happy, happy birthday.

the breakfast project

2011-03-12T13:56:00.010+08:00

Breakfast is my favorite meal of the day. I enjoy sitting around the table, sipping a cup of coffee, and talking to my family. Bacon, eggs, a generous serving of hot rice -- these are my comfort food, treats enjoyed since childhood. My current routine, however, usually has me eating my first meal at four in the morning, so I don't get to laze around and enjoy breakfast and all its trappings as often as I'd like to.

On weekends, I prepare breakfast myself, and today, well, I thought I'd make a production out of it. But first: I knew I was going to be really hungry by the time I finished cooking, so I fixed myself a cup of hot choco, a perfect pugong sa gutom in the rainy weather.

After I got the rice going, I took a quick glance at our ref. We'd gone grocery shopping two weeks before, so some stuff were in danger of going bad in a few days if I didn't use them soon enough. I figured I'd toss them together, and so here's...

How To Make A Salad Out Of Anything

Slice around 3 ripe tomatoes. I rubbed a little salt on my tomato slices because I like them slightly salty, but you shouldn't have to if you don't want to.
Cube a non-crunchy apple. (You can use crunchy ones too, but those are nice to grab from the ref and eat as a snack, whereas the non-crunchy ones...not so much.) Toss them into the bowl with the tomatoes, and squeeze 1 or 2 calamansi over the mix. It's supposed to keep the apples from turning brown, and it also adds a nice citrusy element to the flavor.
No lettuce? Use cabbage. It's still a green leafy vegetable, right?
Mix in some Del Monte Pineapple Chunks. You can use any brand, really, but I'm loyal to Del Monte, mostly because I spent a huge chunk of my childhood in their pineapple plantation.

So that's breakfast dish number 1 done.

Next up: what's breakfast without eggs? Some people prefer their eggs sunny side up, others as omelettes, a few even hard-boiled. I like them scrambled myself -- when done right, that is, which I can't seem to do, unfortunately.

The preparation is easy enough, I guess. Crack the shells open, whisk with a fork, slice, dice or mince whatever bits you want to mix in.

It's the cooking itself that leaves me stumped. This one turned out okay, I think, but my mother has this way of keeping her scrambled eggs fluffy and moist (and yummy!) that I never could duplicate.

Finally, nothing says breakfast like a bowl of Holiday corned beef...

...unless it's a big, steaming bowl of this:

Don't you just love breakfast? ^_^

how to get your HP Solution Center to load again

2011-03-09T19:13:00.001+08:00

Was everything going fine for you when one day your HP Solution Center suddenly stubbornly refused to open? Does your inability to control Scan settings have you wanting to throw things, your stupid PC and HP printer included?

You're not alone. I think a few square nanometers of my myocardium actually died yesterday as I stared furiously at my monitor, waiting for the HP Solution Center to load and knowing it never would. (It hadn't been loading for weeks.)

Fortunately, I thought of Googling my troubles...and "HP Solution Center won't load" actually auto-completes. I found the explanation, and the solution, in an HP forum (here). Basically, what you need to do is:

Uninstall the HP Solution Center (or the whole bunch of HP printer software, for that matter)
Uninstall your Adobe Flash Player
Reinstall Adobe Flash Player in Internet Explorer (because the bar containing the ActiveX warning message most likely won't pop up if you use Firefox or Chrome)
Reinstall whatever HP software you previously uninstalled

Hopefully, that should work as well for you as it did for me. ^_^

Won't bow. Don't know how.

2011-03-07T17:21:00.001+08:00

One of the most surprising things I've learned in the past year or so is that there's a lot about America that's a lot like the Philippines. There are actually Americans who are so poor that they can't see their doctor because they have no means of transportation. There are American women who give birth in February and are pregnant again by August. And then there was Hurricane Katrina.

New Orleans sustained extensive damage during the hurricane, mostly because their levees broke, leading to flooding of 80% of the city. Even though most of the residents were successfully evacuated, some insisted on remaining in their homes. Those who did had to swim for their lives, or remained stranded on their rooftops, as flood waters reached as high as 15 feet in some parts of the city.

Is this beginning to sound familiar? It should. Disasters like this -- though thankfully not all the time this awful -- have dotted Philippine history for as long as I can remember.

Just like in the Philippines, though, life in New Orleans goes on, and there is this great TV series that I've just discovered that documents life in New Orleans after Katrina. It's a fictional tale, but it has been "embraced...as an accurate and honest representation" of how New Orleanians are trying to get back on their feet and move on.

Treme airs on HBO. (I know. You're thinking: You don't have cable. You don't even have a TV. How...what...where...? Um. Ask no questions, and I will tell you no lies.)

And have I mentioned it yet? The music is awesome. I've only seen one episode so far -- the very first one -- but I'm already head over heels in love with the music of Treme. I've never wanted to go to America, but for this, for the jazz, the second line, the Carnival, and the opportunity to eat a Hubig's pie, I'm willing to prostrate myself in front of a consul. (Well, no, but near enough as makes no difference.)

Here are a few scenes from the first episode, their first ever second line since the hurricane, set to the Rebirth Brass Band's Feel Like Funkin' It Up. There are many amazing music scenes in the series premiere, but I love how this first one somehow symbolizes the undefeatable spirit of the people of New Orleans.

The line "won't bow, don't know how" is from the series, and that pretty much says it all.

i ♥ george smiley

2011-03-03T16:13:00.004+08:00

Cartwheels! Whistles! Tin cans! Party poppers! They're making a movie version of Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy!

Gary Oldman will play George Smiley, Colin Firth (the Colin Firth) will play Bill Haydon, Tom Hardy will play Ricki Tarr (in lieu of Michael Fassbender), and look who's playing Jim Prideaux: it's my old friend, the one and only, if not quite unique-looking, Mark Strong. (Read some of the movie buzz here.) When I first saw the words "Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy" and "Colin Firth" together, I thought Colin -- British, fat-ish, and somewhat ordinary-looking -- would make the perfect George and was initially disappointed when I realized he wouldn't be playing him. Still, people are saying that Gary Oldman is the best actor never to have been nominated for an Academy Award, so I'm pretty sure he will do Smiley justice. And, who knows, this role might be The One.

Gosh! I can't wait for the movie to come out.

Even if you've never heard of TTSS, you might have heard of another famous John le Carré book: The Spy Who Came In From The Cold. (No?) I have to admit I didn't quite get this book when I read it the first time, but when I read it again, the beauty of the plot just knocked me off my feet. I've always wanted to be a spy, and John Le Carré's novels are exciting forays into that secret, sad, solitary world of my unfulfilled dream career.

The first JlC book I read was The Secret Pilgrim. It is captivating and haunting at the same time, bitter and sweet. I loved it, and it was while reading it that I fell in love with George Smiley. One can't help swearing allegiance to George. If you can't find the book in the store, please, please promise you will watch the TTSS film...and click here.

thoughts on Facebook

2011-02-25T16:24:00.002+08:00

Have you ever scrolled down your Facebook News Feed and wondered, "Who are these people?!"

And have you ever continued scrolling down and reading anyway?

Ha ha. That's what I thought.

It's amazing how Facebook has managed to get us to spend countless hours following the minutest details of the lives of people we barely know and never much cared about. So-and-so is eating ice cream. So-and-so ran this many miles today. So-and-so was in a relationship with someone, and now it's complicated, if not totally torn to shreds, with new bile spewing forth with every status update.

Don't get me wrong. On the whole, I Like it.

Wiser heads than I can explore and expound on (and actually have been doing so, for the past few years) the effects that social media has had on the way humans interact with each other. Some people shake their heads sadly, even disgustedly, at how we now spend more time facing a computer than facing each other. And I agree: a group chat or a series of comments is a poor substitute for sitting by a sidewalk cafe, talking and laughing and watching the world go by.

On the other hand, I like how I no longer have to attend a batch reunion to know what my old classmates are doing. I like that I can keep in touch with friends who are now living in remote corners of the world. I like how I can "Like" something a casual acquaintance said, without having to text her or call her or tell her personally ('cause, man, that would be weird). And I like how I am learning so much more about people -- their thoughts, their preferences, their principles -- than I would have from our face-to-face interactions alone.

For months after I joined Facebook, I had only one friend, and that person wasn't even an actual friend, just someone I worked with for a while. It was only when I tried to sign up for a second time that I realized I already had a Facebook account. Now I check it daily -- but not hourly, I'm proud to say -- and it has become as much a part of my online routine as is checking for airline sales.

Has my life been improved by Facebook? Hmmm... I'd like to say no. In all honesty, though, I'd have to say yes. And as long as Facebook remains a tool and not an end in itself, there's no reason why it shouldn't continue to do so.

enlightenment on a saturday night

2011-02-19T19:02:00.005+08:00

Do not argue with an idiot. He will drag you down to his level and beat you with experience.

I want to die peacefully in my sleep, like my grandfather...not screaming and yelling like the passengers in his car.

I asked God for a bike, but I know God doesn't work that way. So I stole a bike and asked for forgiveness.

Light travels faster than sound. This is why some people appear bright until you hear them speak.

The early bird might get the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.

To steal ideas from one person is plagiarism. To steal from many is research.

If God is watching us, the least we can do is be entertaining.

If you think nobody cares if you're alive, try missing a couple of payments.

Better to remain silent and be thought a fool, than to speak and remove all doubt.

How is it one careless match can start a forest fire, but it takes a whole box to start a campfire?

Did you know that dolphins are so smart that within a few weeks of captivity, they can train people to stand on the very edge of the pool and throw them fish?

A bank is a place that will lend you money, if you can prove that you don't need it.

Whenever I fill out an application, in the part that says "If an emergency, notify:" I put "DOCTOR". What's my mother going to do?

I didn't fight my way to the top of the food chain to be a vegetarian.

Some people say "If you can't beat them, join them." I say "If you can't beat them, beat them," because they will be expecting you to join them, so you will have the element of surprise.

Never get into fights with ugly people; they have nothing to lose.

Always borrow money from a pessimist. He won't expect it back.

He who smiles in a crisis has found someone to blame.

A diplomat is someone who can tell you to go to hell in such a way that you will look forward to the trip.

When in doubt, mumble.

Just remember: if the world didn't suck, we'd all fall off.

Some cause happiness wherever they go. Others, whenever they go.

I used to be indecisive. Now I'm not sure.

When tempted to fight fire with fire, remember that the Fire Department usually uses water.

If at first you don't succeed, skydiving is not for you!

(The website I got this from didn't cite sources, so I won't cite it either. Fair enough, right?)

mark strong and the inevitable

2011-02-18T13:48:00.006+08:00

I confess: the whole time I was watching Mark Strong portray Lord Blackwood in the Sherlock Holmes movie, I thought he was someone else.

Am I the only one who thinks they look alike?
I bring this up because I just finished watching Mark Strong in his most un-Terry-Benedict-looking role as a Roman legionary in The Eagle. The Andy Garcia resemblance is practically zero in the film, mostly because you can barely see Mark Strong's face behind the Guern scruff. Actually, there were even times in the movie that Mark Strong didn't look like himself, i.e. clean-shaven and evil, as in Robin Hood (where he played Sir Godfrey) and Stardust (as Septimus).

The Eagle stars Channing Tatum, who my cousin always thinks of as the guy in Dear John, my husband as the guy in GI Joe, and I as the guy in Step Up.

Also in the film was Donald Sutherland, who has made so many movies that his Wikipedia entry does not even mention that he was most recently seen in The Mechanic with Jason Statham.

And, of course, we all know that they're all, inevitably, at most, only six degrees of separation from Kevin Bacon.

this is war

2011-02-17T18:15:00.003+08:00

Dear Reepicheep,

I have the highest respect for you and your kin. But this.

You will kindly tell your kin to desist from further invasions into my kingdom (such as it is), or they shall be dealt with decisively.

(And for goodness' sake! There is nothing in my kitchen that is worth chewing off a metal screen, d@mmit.)

Regards to Aslan.

Your friend and fan,
LSS of N

In a corrupt system, everyone loses.

2011-02-13T09:32:00.004+08:00

To say I was shocked would not even begin to describe how I felt when I learned that former AFP Chief Angelo Reyes took his own life that Tuesday morning.

My first thought was: "Then it must be true." He had been accused of corruption in a Senate hearing, accused of receiving P50 million as a going-away gift when he retired from the AFP. But accusations of corruption are nothing new in the Philippines. Even the obviously guilty manage to get by: they deny, say they don't have time for all those silly allegations and would rather concentrate on their mission of uplifting the Filipino nation, keep a pseudo-dignified silence, and then run for Congress (and win).

Angie Reyes' final solution was new, baffling.

But now I understand.

Read THE FINAL WORDS OF ANGELO REYES: A warrior comes clean in last battle for honor by Malou Mangahas of the Philippine Center for Investigative Journalism.

A few excerpts:

The truth can cut two ways: 1. If you are guiltless, you can embrace the truth and hope that it will protect you; 2. If you are not guiltless, speak the truth and it shall set you free.

Honor is above all else. More valuable than freedom or even life itself. Therefore, honor must be guarded/defended with your life.

Living life without honor is a tragedy bigger than death itself.

Every day as you continue to live with the lie, you lose a little of your self-respect. And every day, as people look at you, you can read from their minds that they find you dishonorable, and you die a little.

I did not invent corruption. I walked into it. Perhaps my first fault was in having accepted aspects of it as a fact of life.

When we participated in many military campaigns, I would like to think that I showed courage…

I never thought I would shed tears for this person, but I have, minutes ago, when I read this story of an honorable man swallowed by a quicksand of corruption. I cried for people who died because of a system that cheats everyone: of hope, of honor, of peace. And I cried for my country, the biggest loser of all.

the scorpion and the frog

2011-02-11T10:25:00.006+08:00

The story of the scorpion and the frog is probably one of my least favorite fables. I think I didn't like it that much because I couldn't really relate to it. Now I think I can.

For those who aren't familiar with the story, here is one version of it:

A scorpion and a frog met on the bank of a stream, and the scorpion asked the frog to carry him across on its back.

The frog asked, "How do I know you won't sting me?"

The scorpion replied, "Because if I do, I will die too."

The frog was satisfied, and they set out. In midstream, however, the scorpion stung the frog.

The frog started to sink, but he had just enough time to gasp, "Why? Now we will both drown!"

The scorpion shrugged and answered, "It's my nature."

It's been a while since I first read the story, and I have since learned that there really are scorpions. There are people who, no matter how nice you are to them, will not think twice about stabbing you, in the back or the front. There are people who can't put themselves in other people's shoes. There are people who only think of themselves. You wonder what the heck is wrong with them. You try to understand their family, their friends, their past, their present, but then there are a lot of other people who manage to be good despite being in similar circumstances. And you come to the inevitable conclusion: that's just the way they are.

What the story doesn't tell us is that transformation is possible. A scorpion who doesn't want to poison anyone anymore can certainly cut off his stinger, so to speak, if he so wishes. On the other hand, hang around with a scorpion long enough and you'll start to act like one, that is, if you don't get stung first.

One can blame everything under the sun for one's character, but in the end, it's all a matter of choice. And in the end you get what you deserve.

oh manila

2011-02-07T20:10:00.008+08:00

Manila is an acquired taste. I've always felt that it would be awful if I had to actually live there, but there is something about the Philippine capital that beckons and beguiles all the same, enough to warrant repeated, even regular, visits. That, and the shopping, of course.

My mother and I were in Manila last weekend to visit my sister and attend to all sorts of business. We stayed at the Kabayan Hotel Pasay, which I would recommend to anyone planning to commute while in Manila. The hotel is right beside the Edsa and Taft stations of the LRT and the MRT, respectively, and there are nearby stops for jeepneys going to Divisoria, Mall of Asia, etc. There's no pool or anything like that, but (1) there's a complimentary ride from the airport, (2) the room comes with free breakfast and lunch, and (3) there's an actual fridge in the room, unlike the last hotel we stayed in. One could definitely do worse.

The overpasses, skywalks and railway structures make for a confusing cityscape. My sister is amazed at how I have come to Manila many, many times and still remain at a loss for directions. It's all that concrete. Everywhere I go, there is inevitably a 7-11, a fast food chain or other, street food vendors, wires of all sorts overhead, and some concrete infrastructure. It's hard to remember places when they look the same.

Still, Manila isn't all bad. In some ways, it is actually charming. An old couple belting out a tune in the middle of a skywalk for some loose change -- I find it cute, if a little sad. The triangular ceiling, big clock, and air of anticipation of a train platform -- we still don't have that where I live. And the possibilities of a jaunt to Divi -- endless. Even the sidewalks teem with bargains, impulse food trips, culture. I am beginning to understand why, for all its imperfections, Manila commands love and loyalty from people who call it home.

February 3, 2002

2011-02-03T19:18:00.005+08:00

My husband and I met 9 years ago today.

To be more precise, we spoke to each other for the first time just before the 10 AM Mass on February 3, 2002. (We'd seen each other around church long before that.) I was practicing my reading, and he was hanging out in the sacristy with his fellow acolyte.

Back then I had this planner that I used as a mini-diary. I didn't know then that the encounter would prove to be a fateful one, but I entered it in my planner just the same, and that's how I can recall the exact date of our first conversation. The moral of this story: keep a diary.

Luv u van. ^_^

talking the talk

2011-02-02T20:09:00.008+08:00

Sales is not my strong suit. For starters, I am not good at fibbing or embellishing, and when I try I can hardly keep a straight face. Also, I don't like being pushy, mostly because I know how annoying it can be to be the object of someone else's pushiness.

So it makes me chuckle when I realize that I've been putting a lot of effort into sales lately.

The whole thing really started with me wanting to get health insurance for my family. When my friend Hershe mentioned that her boyfriend's father was in Caritas, I asked her to help me get a quotation for myself, my parents and my sister. Hershe later told me that her boyfriend's father had encouraged her to become a Caritas agent herself, and then sometime after that she said, well, why don't I become a Caritas agent?

It seemed like a good idea, so I went with Hershe one Saturday morning to an orientation in a small, freezing training room in a building somewhere in Jones Avenue. As I listened to the nitty-gritty, I realized: Hey! I know this stuff. (Remember I work for the California equivalent of PhilHealth, sort of.) And I actually thought that their health plans made sense mathematically. Sure it was a bit expensive -- it wasn't one of those things that sounded too good to be true -- but that's good. That means the company isn't likely to go bankrupt anytime soon. And I liked the fact that it was a health plan-slash-forced savings plan -- it makes one feel like a responsible adult twice over.

Anyway. It's been a lark: creating ads, a Facebook page, even a video. I sometimes see a nice stock photo, and the first thing that comes to my mind is, hey, this will make a nice ad.

I know I'm still probably gonna suck at sales talk, but it's interesting to see what will happen when I get out of my comfort zone and do something I'm not good at.

the cooking adventures, 2nd edition

2011-02-01T19:50:00.006+08:00

Hey! Hold that oh-no-not-another-post-about-cooking thought. Let me just say:

It is another post about cooking. But you don't have to read it. :-P So there.

Married people -- well, married women, mostly -- do tend to write about boring, domesticated stuff, such as cooking and curtains and kids. It's unavoidable. Those of us who write Whatever We Want, Just Because -- as opposed to those who write with a particular audience in mind -- write about our thoughts and experiences and lightbulb moments. When you're cooking three times a day, it's hard not to think about cooking, and, however ho-hum, those are Thoughts nonetheless.

For example, just a few minutes ago, I was thinking: what the heck is the difference between a shallot and an onion, anyway?

It turns out that a shallot, what we here call sibuyas bombay, is a variety of onion. The long green leafy thing that we call sibuyas dahonan is a scallion, although it can also be referred to as a spring onion, a green onion, or a green shallot.

And what is that chiffonaded parsley that Anthony Bourdain has extolled to the high heavens? Well, apparently, to chiffonade is to cut into long, thin strips. And since parsley is, well, parsley, the phrase "chiffonaded parsley" actually doesn't make much sense, to me at least.

I've been thinking about onions and parsley because I have just finished cooking carbonara. (Which my husband will not like, as pasta is not exactly his thing.) It's a no-brainer carbonara -- just bacon bits, chopped shallots, bits of parsley, and a pack of Del Monte carbonara sauce -- so no credit goes to me, unless it's for the chicharo and pineapple garnishing. Our soup tonight is also a no-brainer: cream of mushroom, the one where you dissolve a Knorr soup pack in a liter of water and, as the old TV commercial went, just add one egg, pak, pssssh! (There is nothing like Knorr real chinese soup!)

The other no-brainers in my culinary repertoire include:
1. Sinigang - meat, sinigang mix, leafy veggies, voila!
2. Sisig - Purefoods sisig, chopped shallots and tomatoes, calamansi juice, voila!
3. All those canned delights -- Holiday corned beef, Senorita sardines, Ma-Ling -- open, heat and voila!

Now that I think about it, my only valid cooking triumphs to date have been my fish masala and salpicao. But that's okay. There's still a lot of time to learn...and a lot of editions of The Cooking Adventures to come. So sue me.

swapping strategies

2011-01-29T23:07:00.003+08:00

One of the greatest things about being married is that you get to learn a lot from each other.

For example, I dislike taking crap from anyone. I prefer to respond to insults with insults -- preferably with smart ones that feel insulting but that the other would have to look up to understand why. I dig my heels in by default. And, in the heat of the moment, I am perfectly willing to burn bridges.

My husband, on the other hand, is a cool character. When caught in a possible confrontation, he takes the time to think. He prefers to prove you wrong, not by debating with you, but by letting his actions and their results do the talking. He weighs consequences, compares scenarios, and quite often concludes that silence is the better part of valour.

I still maintain that, on the whole, you will never really regret fighting for what you believe in, even if it means you have to go down fighting. However, I've seen the results of my husband's actions-not-words strategy, and, I have to say, it's a bigger slap in the face than I could ever have produced with my verbal sparring. And it leaves room for detractors to do an about-face and suddenly make nice, which in turn gives you an infinitely satisfying chance to silently say, "Hah! Losers."

Not a bad game plan.

adik sa yo

2011-01-25T21:17:00.002+08:00

(Reuters) - Burglars snorted the cremated remains of a man and two dogs in the mistaken belief that they had stolen illegal drugs, Florida sheriff's deputies said on Wednesday.

The ashes were taken from a woman's home in the central Florida town of Silver Springs Shores on December 15. The thieves took an urn containing the ashes of her father and another container with the ashes of her two Great Danes, along with electronic equipment and jewelry, the Marion County Sheriff's Office said.
THE FULL STORY HERE

As we say, "Dah! Usab pa mo?"

rainy days and mothers

2011-01-18T14:02:00.005+08:00

During cold, rainy days like today, there is a particular rainy-day memory that always warms my heart.

When I was still in high school, even moderately strong rains would turn the street below our house into a river of floodwater. Those who didn't have cars to safely take them to drier ground had no choice but to wade through it. Back then, it almost seemed useless opening your umbrella as you alight from the jeepney: the more frightening water was not the one pouring from above.

During one such rainy day, I was coming home from school and eyeing the flood with dread when I saw my mother waiting for me at the jeepney stop. She was scanning the jeepneys that were slowing down in front of her. She saw me as I was about to go down the jeepney I was in, and she hurriedly sloshed through the water in her shorts and rubber slippers. When she got to the jeepney entrance, she turned her back to me, bent down, and motioned for me to climb on to her back. She then carried me all the way to floodless ground.

A mother's love truly has no limits. That memory of my mother wading through the flood so I wouldn't have to -- that is just one of the many reasons why my mother is my hero in so many ways. Even now my heart swells with the love that she has for me, my sister and my father, and I hope that someday I will become as selfless and as unconditionally loving as she is.

when being one with nature becomes one too much

2011-01-16T12:54:00.010+08:00

Ours is the most biodiverse house I know. Aside from two humans and a dog, there are one or two species of lizard, at least two species of spider, a couple of cute rats that drop in from time to time, caterpillar-like creatures in various stages of metamorphosis, a snail, some mosquitoes, moths, and the occasional stray cat. No, they're not pets.

This accidental ecosystem is in large part due to our kitchen, bathroom and store room being semi-open air. That is, some of the walls are made of cement up to head level, then extended upwards to the roof by wooden slabs spaced several inches apart. Our house is surrounded by trees and shrubs, and I actually like the way the house communicates with the outdoors. The downside is that smaller animals can get in quite easily if they want to. And, boy, do they want to.

Since we moved in, I have had to deal with the fright of seeing large spiders in the bathroom. I have learned the trick of keeping an eye open while I wash my face, in case those eight long legs start making their way towards my direction. I have watched with morbid amusement the way the rats frantically try to bridge the distance from the sink floor to the faucet in one acrobatic jump when they see me approaching. I have actually tried to make a deal with the rats -- they don't mess with our food, and I don't set fly-paper traps for them.

I don't want to have these uninvited creatures killed because, to my way of thinking, they are all just trying to get through their lives the best way they know how. You know...like the rest of us. I'm no Francis of Assisi, and I certainly don't want all sorts of wild animals in my house, but it seems unkind to punish them for trying to find food and shelter where they can.

Last night, however, a tree frog -- yes, an actual tree frog, the kind that leaps and stretches for miles and miles -- was in my kitchen. A snail was in the ceiling, and a rat had chewed the label off our cooking oil bottle, but it was the frog that got to me. I. Don't. Want. Frogs. Jumping. On. Me.

So the screens went up today, courtesy of my smart husband, who was less afraid of the frog than of the screaming that would ensue if it somehow jumped on me.

Sorry, Brother Creatures. I'm all for biodiversity, but my sanity has its limits. In case some of you get really desperate, though, there's still the small space under the door.

one good year coming up

2011-01-10T08:43:00.001+08:00

It was a cool January night, and Aivan offered to make us both a cup of hot chocolate. As we sipped contentedly, sharing soft conspiratorial laughs and quiet conversation, I thought: life is good.

Now is actually a time of major upheaval in the department where I work. Ownership of our biggest client has just switched, and the new management wants to cut back on people. A lot of our jobs are in jeopardy, and I am worried that by summer, or even by next month, our tight-knit group will be several employees less.

Still, I'm not sure that the changes are necessarily a bad thing. Unrest, for all its destructiveness, has the effect of making one step back and reevaluate one's life. It forces one to think about George Clooney's haunting question in Up In The Air: "How much did they pay you to give up on your dreams?" And one begins to think, as one should: is this what I should be doing anyway? For me, and for some of my friends from work, it may be time to heed that still, small voice in our heads that has all along been whispering mutinously, "There is more, out there."

Life is good for a number of reasons.

I have found something related to my profession that I am actually interested in pursuing. I'm not sure if there's money in it, but I actually like it. I have a feeling it won't bore me to bits. It won't take up all my time, so I will get to chase after other dreams.

One of those dreams is starting to become a reality. I am actually on the pre-pre-starting phase, but I'm feeling good about it. I am just bursting with ideas. I won't get paid, but if I do it right, and things go well, I could be on my way to doing what I love and providing people with opportunities to earn extra income.

There are a lot of things that I have been putting off, but by fortuitous timing, now is actually a good time to start working on them.

It would be a tough search for one's place in the world if one did not have supportive family and friends. I do.

This year, a few things might go wrong, but there are so, so many other things that could go right. Indeed, there's no reason to think that the glass is half-empty, because it is more than four-fifths full, and the tiny space at the top is there so I won't spill it.

Happy holidays!

2010-12-25T15:42:00.002+08:00

My wish for your family is the same wish I have for mine -- a peaceful mind, a light heart, a full life, a joy that comes from within, and a love that continues burning when all other lights flicker.

Merry Christmas everyone!

train spotting

2010-11-26T16:50:00.008+08:00

I love trains. It may be because we don't have them where I live -- it would take the strongest political will to overcome the protests of all those bus and jeepney operators. But I also love trains for what they are.

I love that they are predictable: you can go to a station and be confident that, barring the majeurest of forces, a train will come along in a couple of minutes and take you where you want to go. I love that they are interconnected: your nearest station can be a stop in one line, and you can simply get on the train, get off at the right interchange, get on another line, and get to your destination for sure. I love that they are immune to the plague of road congestion: on some days, someone's shoulder may be smack in between your nose and your right cheekbone (or worse!) but at least you will not have to wait for hours for the traffic jam to dissolve or let you through. I love the way that the train is honest: it will not try to weasel more money out of you by taking you on circuitous routes or blackmailing you into paying a flat fee five times more than the meter would have proclaimed. I even love the way you can just put your pass in one of the pockets of your bag, and you can just swish the whole thing over the sensor, and a short bleep will welcome you into the station.

My earliest memory of riding a train is a vague one. Perhaps it is even a fake one, as I was really young at that time, and the image in my mind could have been culled from an old photograph. At any rate, my first train was the old Manila LRT. We were visiting my relatives in Pasay, and I remember something about going to the zoo, and going to Luneta, and going to Harrison's Plaza.

What I really remember as my introduction to the wonderful world of railways is my family's first out-of-the-country trip, Hong Kong. I vividly recall a short old Chinese man barging into me like I was invisible. But even the passengers' lack of manners, or the strangeness thereof, did not prevent me from appreciating the experience of efficient travel. Indeed, what I really loved about the next country we went to, apart from the cultural enclaves and the variety of food, is the reliable Singapore MRT system. Bangkok has the Skytrain, but it is not yet as extensive as it could be.

Some train enthusiasts -- the over-the-top ones, mind you -- are actually called foamers by railway workers because "they foam at the mouth in their excitement over train operations." I am not that crazy. Still, when presented with a myriad of train options such as those of the European railway system, I find myself borderline hyperventilating. How I wish I could travel all over Europe, and ride on sleeper trains, and find myself in another country when I wake up the next morning, and gaze at mountains and fjords and Gothic spires from a comfortable seat by a train window.

A girl can dream.

Whenever I try to explain my fascination with trains, I inevitably remember Gabriel Syme waxing eloquent about the reliability of trains in GK Chesterton's The Man Who Was Thursday:

"The rare, strange thing is to hit the mark; the gross, obvious thing is to miss it. We feel it is epical when man with one wild arrow strikes a distant bird. Is it not also epical when man with one wild engine strikes a distant station? Chaos is dull; because in chaos the train might indeed go anywhere, to Baker Street or to Bagdad. But man is a magician, and his whole magic is in this, that he does say Victoria, and lo! it is Victoria.... [E]very time a train comes in I feel that it has broken past batteries of besiegers, and that man has won a battle against chaos. You say contemptuously that when one has left Sloane Square one must come to Victoria. I say that one might do a thousand things instead, and that whenever I really come there I have the sense of hairbreadth escape. And when I hear the guard shout out the word 'Victoria,' it is not an unmeaning word. It is to me the cry of a herald announcing conquest."

Trains. Europe. Writing about adventures. Someday.

counting blessings

2010-11-26T13:54:00.003+08:00

At work this morning, we celebrated Thanksgiving with some pizza, barbecued pork and mint chocolate ice cream. Before we dug in, though, Tiffany had us enumerate some things that we were thankful for this year. We all got a little teary-eyed when Nina, whose sister died of cardiac tamponade just a few weeks ago, said that she was thankful for family -- that, although her sister passed away at a very young age, she was thankful she got to experience what it was like to have a sister.

Out of all American traditions, celebrating Thanksgiving is the one thing that I think is a pity we didn't copy. We can of course count our blessings everyday, but to have an actual official holiday in which to do it is beyond cool.

A thankful heart lets you look at life in a new way. A thankful heart lifts you above the drudgery of the day-to-day. "We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures," said Thornton Wilder. I think it's true.

There are so many things to be thankful for this year, and there is so much to look forward to next year. But I thank God most of all for the blessings that I enjoy daily -- family and friends (you know who you are), and all the little things I take for granted.

Happy Thanksgiving! :)

seven things to think about before watching harry potter 7

2010-11-19T14:44:00.013+08:00

1. It's Harry Potter SEVEN. If you haven't read the books, haven't watched the previous films, and haven't heard of hallows or horcruxes -- in other words, if you don't know what the heck is going on -- don't watch the movie. There's no point. You will just annoy the rest of us to death by asking your date stupid questions every 30 seconds.

2. Most movie adaptations are never at par with the books on which they are based. Focus on the unbelievably stunning landscapes and the unbelievable way Emma Watson looks stunning while hunting horcruxes. Adjust your expectations and you will be reasonably happy. As in life.

3. Even for those who are familiar with the story by virtue of having watched the previous films, Deathly Hallows can be confusing. If you don't mind spoilers, some people actually came up with this: Harry Potter And The Deathly Hallows: Part 1 Explained For Casual Fans (that's you). If you just want a recap of past events, you could also peruse this: What to Know Before You Watch 'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part I.'

4. Don't go, "Aw, Hedwig..." (Sob.) "Aw, Mad Eye..." (Sob.) "Aw, Dobby...." (Wail uncontrollably.) on us. Fine, we'll let the Dobby tears go, but they only gave Hedwig a few seconds, and did not care enough about Mad Eye to include scenes of his untimely you-know-what, so there's really no reason to go all *sniff, sniff.* (And this is me turning into a grouchy old lady. Hehe! But still.)

5. We know the Harry Potter story better than you do. At least we believe we know it more than you think you do. It annoys us to no end when you start explaining the plot to your friend. We want to listen to the movie. Okay? And God forbid that the two of you should turn out to be insufferable know-it-alls. Your loud conversation will be the death of us.

6. Bring popcorn and drinks. The movie is roughly 2 and a half hours. And yet, you know what, it still somehow feels lacking. But, yeah, I do understand that it's a movie and could not possibly incorporate everything that is in the book. And, actually, critics have already said that this movie, more than the others, made a conscientious effort to mirror the book. I don't feel it, but they're probably right. I still wish the movies could have brought JK Rowling's understated humor to life, but I won't complain.

7. It's the beginning of the end, as they say. Enjoy it for all it's worth.

from 3 to 30

2010-11-18T17:14:00.005+08:00

Some people spend most of their younger years wishing they were older. Not gray-hair, arthritic-knees older -- just old enough to do this, or have that, or try whatever.

I did not.

It was therefore with some aggrievement and a teeny tiny feeling of betrayal that, yesterday, I found myself taking out the trash and realizing: I am old. Holy crap, I am a grown-up. And I don't even know how it happened. One day I was 3, and the next day I was 30, and I was taking out the trash because if I didn't do it, no one else will.

I know that growing older is something that has to happen some time, but you don't really think of it happening to you until it does. Even now I don't actually think of myself as a grown-up. Rather, I think of myself as a kid who has to act like a grown-up sometimes. I suppose I wouldn't mind taking out the trash every now and then, but I don't ever want to be a king, or a conceited man, or a tippler, or a businessman. I would always want to see the elephant swallowed by the boa constrictor, rather than a hat.

Being older isn't all that bad, I suppose. The good thing, for example, about having to cook dinner is that I get to cook it for someone. When your loved ones finish the food you prepared, sit back contentedly and declare themselves stuffed, it feels like a million pats in the back.

And you get to see things in a different light. It doesn't take a grown-up, for example, to know that a fridge costs P16,000. But when you're older, you get to see that a fridge costs a vacation you could have taken, a dress you could have bought, a movie you could have watched. And it's okay, because you get to drink cold water, and buy ice cream and save some for later, and keep your fish fillets and tomatoes fresh for weeks.

I could say it sucks. Every time I chance upon airline seat sales and find myself having to pass them up, I am tempted to say that growing old, and the responsibilities thereof, suck big time. But when I look back and realize what a fortunate childhood I had, when I look ahead and see possibilities opening up, especially when I look around and find myself in the midst of people I love who love me in return, I begin to have a sneaking suspicion that growing older might actually be worth it.

the cooking adventures, 1st edition

2010-11-05T19:27:00.010+08:00

This week was the week we finally hooked our new gas stove to my parents' old gas tank. As I had afternoons off, I was determined to prepare dinner myself.

Day 1
Three fish dishes! I'm so proud of myself! (Admittedly, none of these three require too much talent to make.)

Day 2
My mother said she was preparing chop suey so I figured I would whip up something that would complement a vegetable dish perfectly -- a meat dish. I know it's technically just Hungarian sausage and corn, but restaurants do sell stuff like this (and make a ridiculous profit too).

Day 3
We had leftover KFC Hot Shots, and my mother was making mongos, so I figured...
My sister laughed when I told her we were having Spam for dinner. It's all in the presentation! Oh, and I learned not to place veggies over the rice cooker from the very start of cooking rice, or else they will be super-soggy. But, if you already have, you can just fry them -- and take all the point out of steaming them in the first place.

Day 4
I love tomatoes and anything in tomato sauce, and we had filleted chicken so...

Hey, I know these aren't culinary masterpieces, but if people can make an entire cooking show out of just one brand of tuna, I think my 6 easy dishes are a passable plunge into the adventure of cooking, if I do say so myself. Coming up: carbonara, Cajun dishes and all sorts of unpronounceable stuff. (Di bitaw. Hehe!)

the new state of things

2010-11-03T19:20:00.012+08:00

I was a few months shy of thirty and still living in my parents' house. Now I'm a few days shy of thirty and living in the house next to my parents' house that is also actually their house that they have lent to me because I don't have a million pesos to buy my own.

(Technically there are houses out there that don't cost a million. But buying a starter house and saving up for the house makes less strategic sense then staying in your parents' other house and saving up for the house, not that the house is in sight anywhere in the near future.)

(I use long sentences and over-use parentheses when I'm not quite sure where I'm heading and consequently get easily distracted by side-thoughts. Sorry.)

The change in residence (a few meters eastward) was due to a change in the state of things. That is, I got married a few weeks ago.

(Did you know that, traditionally, you're supposed to say "Congratulations" to the groom and "best wishes" to the bride? You can play safe and say "congratulations and best wishes." Speaking for myself as a recent bride, you could also go ahead and add "and good luck" because boy do we need it.)

I wish I could say that I have been terrifically independent ever since, but right this very moment, my father is outside working on a screen to keep mosquitoes out of The Other House. And my mother still prepares my breakfast. I do cook dinner and pay for the outsourced laundry, but that isn't saying much.

I could give several reasons for this:

1. I am a lazy good-for-nothing. But that's not totally true. I hope.

2. I wake up at 4 AM so as not to be late for my 6 AM work. If I had to cook breakfast, I would have to wake up at 3 AM. And I get off work at 12 NN, so there's no way I could put a timely lunch together. But those sound like lame excuses.

3. This is just a temporary setup. Now this, I hope, is true. I really hope that someday I will have a schedule flexible enough that I could take care of my family, fix breakfast, lunch and dinner, write something immortal, dabble in arts-crafts-and-all-other-sorts-of-hobbies, keep an eye out for airline sales AND earn a decent living all at the same time.

In the meantime, I am just incredibly fortunate to have incredibly supportive parents -- while I was preparing my first dinner, they checked in every 5 minutes and asked how I was doing -- and an incredible husband who doesn't mind amateurish meals (and cleans the house whenever he can).

dear little sister

2010-10-23T12:53:00.006+08:00

Dear little sister,

There are so many people I need to thank, but I wanted to thank you, first of all, for being my maid of honor. You know, that title could have been coined just for you. During the last few days before the wedding, you willingly became my maid, in the colloquial sense: running errands for me, accompanying me in all my meetings, putting up with my bursts of ill temper, sharing with me a last piece of chocolate cake. And on the wedding day itself, you were the heart and soul of the celebration, still slaving away, all the while looking like a goddess clothed in sunlight.

This line will be woefully unoriginal, but I really, truly, absolutely couldn't have done it without you.

When I look at our childhood photos, I think about the cheer that you brought into our family. Even now, from miles away, you continue to be the rock that keeps us strong. Sometimes I think God put you in this world because He knows Mama and Papa and I need someone like you. But of course that's not entirely true, because you have your own life to live, your own destiny to fulfill. And I pray with all my heart that, if and whenever you need me, I can be as good a sister to you as you have always been to me. Luv u, Lan.

Aivan + Gaya

2010-10-23T08:43:00.001+08:00

As you can see, I've been a little busy.

Aivan Adams & Ligaya SDE from Wolfram VirtualWorks on Vimeo.

Cheers!

Regret is...

2010-10-08T16:27:00.004+08:00

...changing your blog design and now wishing you didn't.

I started another blog recently and found it so much easier to write posts and insert images and whatnot. I figured if I adopted the new designs for this blog, I would be able to do things the new way. Apparently not. Grrr!

fifteen books

2010-09-27T19:31:00.018+08:00

Fifteen books that will always stick with me:

1. The Bible Story. The most epic of epics. I don't have volumes 6 and, I think, 10. I remember thinking the Maccabees must be in volume 6, only to learn later that Deuterocanonicals don't have a place in Protestant versions of the Bible.

2. The Nancy Drew Mystery Stories. There used to be just 56 of them, and I had read every single one. Pillows, small stools, a yellow-colored hardbound book in hand...those were happy times in the CIC library.

3. The Gift of Acabar. Although I have somewhat outgrown Og Mandino books, it was The Gift of Acabar that opened up the whole inspirational genre for me. Actually I have also somewhat outgrown inspirational books, but their lessons remain, and what I am now is in large part a product of books such as these. Turn away from the crowd and it's fruitless pursuit of fame and gold... I can no longer recite the entire Credenda from memory, but I'm pretty sure I can fill in the blanks if you take out every other word.

4. To Kill A Mockingbird. I still hope to keep the integrity of Atticus and the spirit of Scout, plus or minus the acid-tongued level-headedness of Miss Maudie.

5. Nine Letters: The Story of the 1986 Filipino Revolution. Tyrants, beware: this is what happens when people have had enough. Tama na, sobra na.

6. A book, title unrecalled, in the UP Cebu library that examined the Catholic progression of thought on the issue of salvation for non-Christians, all the way to Vatican II. This book proved to me that most Catholics are actually reasonable. It's just a pity that some of our priests are stuck in the Middle Ages.

7. David Myers' Psychology. When I started making this list, I didn't know a textbook would end up in it. I love Myers because his is a positive psychology. That reminds me, I really have to start reading that Social Psychology book I bought years and years ago. (People are so much more interesting than their diseases.)

8. The Case for Christianity. It is admirable to believe in something just because you do, but it's nice to know that there is actually solid reason behind faith, especially if the God you believe in is the God of both reason and faith.

9. The Chronicles of Narnia. Because I am old enough to start reading fairy tales again. I may be staunchly Pinoy, but Aivan says I am a Narnian at heart.

10. The Lord of the Rings. When I first read Tolkien, I would skip the long paragraphs and eagerly devour the dialogues and the action, intent to get to the end of this beautiful, beautiful story. It was after the second or third reading that I began to ruminate on the passages and even on the appendices. I am probably on my twenty-plusth reading, and none of it ever grows old.

11. The Dick Francis canon. I must have told this story a hundred times: I picked up Come To Grief for a song at a National Bookstore sale and thought it good. (Bing! You were there.) Then I read To The Hilt, and I knew that the first book was no fluke. I was on to something.

12. The Sherlock Holmes short stories. If I ever find myself in London, I would probably head first of all to 221B Baker Street and bow my head in honor of the greatest detective who ever lived. Or didn't. (And then I would barge into the barrier between platforms nine and ten at King's Cross railway station.)

13. The Harry Potter series.

14. The Bronze Bow. The scene that struck me most in this YA book is when Daniel tells Jesus, "I would fight to the death for you!" And Jesus looked at him sadly and said, "Will you love for me?"

15. The Man Who Was Thursday. For depth of thought, elegant plot twists and sheer genius, I take my hat off to Chesterton. As I glanced through the Notable quotations portion of the Wikipedia entry for Thursday, it struck me just how much of my present world view is the influence of GK. The philosophy embedded in great literature is indeed potent, more so because it does not carry the burden of being Required Reading.

* * *

Here you have it, Ruby Tuesday: my list, a couple of weeks late. ^_^ Thanks for the tag.

the wonderful world of weddings

2010-09-26T20:33:00.006+08:00

A few years ago, one of my best friends got married, and it led to our biggest fight ever. I knew that she was getting married because someone else told me. I did not receive an invitation. Before the day of her wedding, the only text message I received from her was one asking me (and, I assume, everyone else in her phonebook) to pray for good weather. On her wedding day, I congratulated her by text. I did not receive a response.

At that point, I was still cool with the way things were. I thought: whatever. But then, a few days after, she and her husband arrived in Cebu, and then she texted me, telling me that they were having a thanksgiving dinner, and asking me to spread the word to our other friends and classmates.

It was at that point I went ballistic. You ignore me the entire time and now you're asking me to play secretary?! You gotta be kidding me.

To my friend's credit, she did send an invitation to my defunct email address, as I found out later. I didn't receive the message, but I believe her, because she doesn't lie. She also said everything was just crazy at that time, and I believe her, because weddings do tend to be crazy. And, actually, I never really planned on going to their wedding, because it was being held in this faraway destination. But I would have appreciated an invitation, all the same. At the very least, I would have appreciated a short "thank you" to my wedding day well-wishes, and the reply didn't even have to be sent on the same day. For my part, I shouldn't have reacted the way I did. It was immature. I should have given her the benefit of the doubt, taken the high road, banked on our friendship. I didn't.

The damage has been done, both ways. It's sad, but there it is.

* * *

A few months ago, I overheard a couple of my teammates discussing their college friend's wedding. Neither of them had been invited and they were feeling betrayed. By then I had learned how horrifyingly expensive a wedding can be, so I told my teammates maybe their friend's budget was limited and their friend simply couldn't afford to invite them.

My teammates didn't accept the explanation. They wished their friend had at least told them he was getting married. (What were friends for?) Or their friend could have invited them to the wedding alone and asked them not to come to the reception. They just wanted to be there to see their friend get married.

I sympathized and agreed with them 100%. There's just one little problem: imagine how embarrassing it would be to tell your friends, "Hey, I'm getting married, but I can't invite you. Sorry." Or "Hey, I'm getting married. I would love for you to be there at my wedding. But, um, you can't come to the reception. Okay?"

Beyond the mush and romance, this is the reality of weddings: they cost a ridiculous amount of money, which increases in proportion to the number of people you invite. And, for this reason or that, sometimes you actually end up having to not invite the people you would want to be there on your wedding day, to give way to people about whose presence or absence you couldn't care less. It's an uncomfortable situation, but sometimes there's just no going around it.

If one of your friends (or family) does tell you that he (or she) is getting married but can't invite you to the wedding or the reception or both, think of it as a compliment. Really. It just means that your friend thinks you're mature enough to understand, that your friendship is strong enough to withstand the awkwardness. Either that, or he simply doesn't care what you think.

* * *

A few hours ago, Aivan and I made the round of my relatives to distribute invitations. Almost immediately after we arrived back at my house, we received a call from one invitee.

"Thank you so much for the invitation," she gushed. "We're really honored to be invited."

But it didn't stop there.

"You know," she confided. "We're really glad you invited us, unlike [so-and-so]. We were so dismayed when we learned that [so-and-so] wasn't inviting us to [the main reception venue]. I mean, we're her relatives, and she only invited us to the dinner at their house! You are so much better than [so-and-so]."

My first thought: omigosh, I don't think I invited them to Grand Con either.

My second thought: they shouldn't have told me that. Now I know what kind of people they are.

Something tells me someone somewhere is going to be talking displeasedly about me with the next bride. But you know what? Let them. My father has 3 siblings and almost 20 cousins. My mother has 8 siblings and more than 20 cousins. I studied in 4 different schools, went through 2 hospitals, and worked for 2 companies. And that's just me. There's still Aivan's family and friends to think about. Should I worry about a couple of people -- whom I should I be so lucky to see once in 3 years -- talking about me behind my back? I could. But I won't. I didn't expect to be able to please everyone with this wedding, and now I've gotten the first sign that I won't. I'm cool with that.

You know what else is cool? All the people who understand.

Welcome to the wonderful world of weddings. ^_^

the art of poker face interviews

2010-09-24T17:36:00.003+08:00

Aivan works in the boiler department of a power plant due to start its operations next year. They are in the process of hiring maintenance staff -- helpers, welders and whatnot -- and Aivan's boss is Korean, so Aivan ended up handling the applicants' initial interview.

Here are some excerpts:

***
Aivan: Isuwat lang palihug sa papel unsa nga posisyon imong gi-apply-an
Applicant: (writing) "W-i-l-d-i-r"
***
Aivan: Unsa man nga posisyon imong applyan?
Applicant: Welder gyud akong applyan, engineer, pero kung naa'y bakante sa imong posisyon, engineer, pwede ra sad...
***
Aivan: Asa man ka kutob sa imong pag-eskwela?
Applicant: Aw, nakatungtong man ko ug Bachelor, sir!
Aivan: Sige isuwat lang diha sa papel ang imong kurso.
Applicant: (writing) "B-a-t-c-h-e-l-o-r..."
***
Applicant: Hala, engineer, tua man akong transcript sa Mindanao...kanang...naa ka'y pwede mabuhat ana?
Aivan: (thinking) Hoy, boang, dili ako'y mo-buhat ana, ikaw! [speechless]
***
Aivan: Wa jud ka'y laing picture ani?! (looking at the attached photo of the applicant holding a glass of beer)
***
Aivan: Okay, describe yourself.
Applicant goes on and on about his son who does nothing but play computer games all day.
Aivan: Kadyot lang. (looking at the applicant's handwritten Biodata sheet) Ga-sige lang na'g computer ang imong anak unya wa jud ka nakapa-type ani?
Applicant: Aw, di man, Engineer, duwa man to iya, Engineer. Di man ni duwa-duwa ato.
Aivan: [speechless]

By the end of the day, Aivan couldn't quite be sure if he wanted to laugh or kill someone.

It's like getting the history of a psych patient. Which, now that I think about it, I actually like doing. I enjoy trying to keep a poker face in the midst of insanity.

letters to noynoy, issue 01

2010-09-21T19:29:00.006+08:00

Dear Noynoy,

I am not a big fan of priests, but please listen to Archbishop Oscar Cruz. This jueteng payola issue strikes at the very heart of your presidency, precisely because that presidency would not have been yours had you not promised to combat corruption. Well, this is corruption. This is the time to prove you keep your promises.

Get rid of Puno. Whether he is guilty or not, his name has been tainted, tagged by someone who has nothing to gain and a whole lot to lose. He may be forgiven for messing up that hostage crisis; but for this, no. Puno may still enjoy your trust and confidence, as was reported; he does not enjoy ours.

This is only the first of a whole lot of letters I expect to be writing to you in the next six years. We who voted for you do not expect you to change the world. We do not expect you to create a better country all by yourself. We will do everything in our power to be the exemplary citizens that our country needs, but you damn well better do everything in your power to be the leader that we need.

xoxo,
Ligaya Solera

(the girl who, if you Google
her name, you will see,
received a lot of hate
because of an article she
wrote supporting your
candidacy, but it's cool,
man, I've received enough
love in my life, but YOU
OWE ME and everyone
else who voted for you)

P.S. I was in Ayala last week and was heading out to The Terraces when I saw a whole bunch of guys in white polos and dark pants walking real fast towards the same direction. I was vaguely wondering why Nursing students were having their educational tour in Ayala, until I saw you, and I realized that the Nursing students were actually the PSG. Man, you guys are underwhelming.

obstinacy is my middle name

2010-09-06T20:15:00.000+08:00

The one thing I really don't like is being backed into a corner. I am allergic to obligations, to the words "have to." You may be right, what you're asking may be reasonable, but try to pressure me in any way, and you usually get the opposite of what you want. One of the surest ways of getting me to say "no" is by pressuring me to say "yes." And I am pretty good at digging my heels in. Obstinacy is my middle name.

This is why I generally dislike joining organizations: I hate having to show up for meetings. It's also (I think) partly why the idea of residency just has no appeal for me. The idea of bowing to institutional gods, of accepting fault without defending yourself for fear of being branded "difficult," of holding your own temper but merely gazing downwards when your senior loses hers, of laughing at your superior's inane jokes, of kissing a**, of having to do all these things to survive -- simply and utterly unacceptable. Yes, there are benefits. You learn. You get to give back. But surely there is something that I can give to this world without having to lose myself. More than wealth, more than recognition, more than prestige, more than most other things, what is really important to me is freedom.

There is a lot that can be said about this way of thinking. I know. I am not saying I am right. I am saying this is me.

Let the roast begin! (Because Gloria Diaz won't come to Cebu until we apologize to her.)

2010-09-04T13:37:00.018+08:00

Some people have nothing better to do than to jump on issues. And sometimes I have nothing better to do than to jump on issues. Hehe. So. Let's talk about Gloria Diaz.

The actress had Cebuanos fuming when she apparently insulted their English-speaking abilities. A Congresswoman demanded an apology, Cebuano vice mayors declared her persona non grata, people created all sorts of anti-Gloria-Diaz Facebook pages, etc. She claimed she was misinterpreted. I didn't catch her actual interview on TV, so I wasn't sure how to react. I figured I didn't really care, one way or the other.

But then I saw a news article claiming, "Gloria Diaz turns the table on the Cebuanos," and the first line read, "'I won’t go to Cebu until the Cebuanos, who misinterpreted what I said, apologize to me.'"

That's when I thought, "Huh? Hahahahahahaha! Hahahahahahaha! Who cares? Hahahahahahaha!"

"I won't go to Cebu until the Cebuanos, who misinterpreted what I said, apologize to me."

"Ooooooooohhh! I'm so scared! Hahahahahahaha! What a threat! Hahahahahahaha!"

"I won't go to Cebu until the Cebuanos, who misinterpreted what I said, apologize to me."

"Dear Gloria Diaz,

We're so sorry.

We misinterpreted what you said.

We really want you to come to Cebu.

Our lives would suck without you.

We need you here.

We're sorry.

We're KIDDING! Hahahahahaha!"

GD: "I won't go to Cebu until the Cebuanos, who misinterpreted what I said, apologize to me."

Cebuanos:

...

48 Years Later

GD: "I won't go to Cebu until the Cebuanos, who misinterpreted what I said, apologize to me."

Cebuanos:

...

Friendly advice: Don't hold your breath. Hahahahahahaha!

Gosh! I had to wipe tears out of my eyes.

But then, I thought, let's be fair. What exactly did she say? I looked for a clip of her interview, and this is what she actually said, "Kasi, when you think about a Cebuana, can hardly speak English and, of course, Tagalog, so maybe she should answer in, in, in Bisaya." (It's around the 0:52 mark.)

Hahahahahahaha!

Okay, okay, let's be serious.

# 1.

If you don't want to be misinterpreted, don't use run-on sentences! Run-on sentences are only acceptable when you are using them for effect. It is especially unwise to use them when making comments about other people's linguistic abilities.

# 2

"When you think about a Cebuana..."

--> Here, you are asking people to imagine a Cebuana.

"...can hardly speak English..."

--> Here, you are saying that the Cebuana that most people have in their minds can hardly speak English.

If you intend to say, "A Cebuana who can hardly speak English should answer in Bisaya," then that's what you should say. Wala'y "who" sa inyong eskwelahan geng?

# 3

"But I can relate to that, because I used to think in English and answer in Tagalog."

Hahahahahahaha! Really? Hahahahahahaha!

I know. I'm being unkind. Tsk tsk. All right, I will concede two things:

1. Gloria Diaz probably did not intend to insult the Cebuanos. Her English just wasn't good enough for her to be able to say exactly what she meant to say. Let's remember that this is the same girl who, when asked how she would entertain a man from the moon, replied, "Oh, uh, just the same things I do. I think if he's been on the moon for so long, I think when he comes over he wants to change, I guess." Yeah, yeah, she won the crown, but you have to admit, hers wasn't exactly the most well-framed of answers either.

2. The Cebuanos did overreact a bit. I'm not saying we are wrong. I'm saying let's not care too much. I know we've had enough of Tagalog people making fun of our accents when we speak their language, but, really, who cares what they think? Let's take a cue from Manny Pacquiao's reaction to Floyd Mayweather's rant -- to paraphrase, huwag na nating patulan ang mga sinasabi ng mga walang pinag-aralan.

But Gloria Diaz, darling, if you can't say it in English, don't. You have just proven your own point.

life's lesser adventures

2010-09-03T23:14:00.005+08:00

.
1. Having Long Fingernails

I can count with one hand the number of times I have let my nails grow to a length worthy of a manicure. Recently, though, for no other reason than being too lazy to clip them, I let my fingernails get really long. If you haven't tried it, let me tell you: it feels weird. Every time a nail is inadvertently pushed outward, I get the same sensation in my fingers that I get in my teeth whenever a fork's tines scrape against a glass or ceramic plate. (Or maybe I should have my nerve endings examined?) Long nails make it easier for you to open a can of soda, but the bad news is you don't want to do it, because your nails might get chipped or, God forbid, completely pulled off. Many girls wear their nails long with aplomb, but I personally feel they are more trouble than they are worth. My fiance thought my long nails looked cute, so I put up with them for a while, but the other day I said, Enough! Give me Wolverine's retractable claws any day, but long fingernails? Nuh uh.

2. Buying Curtains

When you were a kid, did you ever see yourself buying curtains someday? If you're like me, probably not. It's a sign of aging. You have to be at a certain age or state of life to think, "I have got to get a place of my own." Even then, it takes time for you to start mulling, "Hmmm, I think I'm going to need curtains." At that point, there's no turning back. Down you plunge into a hitherto unimagined world of fabric, mountains upon mountains of them. But you should have known, by the fact that a shop called Curtains and Trims exists. And by the way? You will not believe how much curtains cost. A simple catcha-like, floor-length curtain, around 1 meter wide, set me back P200, and it was on sale. At 50% off.

3. Cleaning Your Room

I take it back. Cleaning my room is a major adventure.

:)

good things happen to good people

2010-08-31T20:56:00.003+08:00

My family and I were in Angeles City last weekend, and we stayed at a small hotel called Seinpost. While we were on a day trip to Subic, the driver of our rented van related the hotel manager's story. A few years ago, Ms. M was working at a nearby hotel, and they had a Dutch guest who looked filthy, smelled awful, and didn't seem like he had a cent to his name. All the other hotel staff ignored him. Only Ms. M paid him attention and attended to his needs.

It turned out that the dirty, smelly Dutch was actually a wealthy man looking to invest in a hotel in the Clark area. Foreigners aren't allowed to wholly own a business in the Philippines, so when he had finalized his plans for what would eventually be Seinpost hotel, he remembered the only person who was good to him. He made Ms. M co-owner of Seinpost, sent her to school and installed her as manager.

Today Ms. M is as nice, sincere and unassuming as she must have been when she met the unwanted guest who changed the course of her life. Hers is a story the world needs to hear: proof that when you are a good person, good things will happen to you, sooner or later.

If Dolph Lundgren were female, he would be the me I always dreamed I would be.

2010-08-15T21:31:00.003+08:00

Explosives went off, people got shot (and lived), and still all I could think of, while watching The Expendables, was how much I hated Dolph Lundgren. I hate him because:

Dolph Lundgren has a master's degree in chemical engineering, was a Fulbright scholar at M.I.T., speaks seven languages, was an elite marine ranger in the Swedish military, and is a third degree black belt in Kyokushin karate.
- Yahoo

In short, Dolph Lundgren, give or take the Ch.E. MS, and (yes, Meloinks) with slightly less muscles, is the me I always dreamed I would be.

Ever since a career counselor in high school mentioned that MIT was the best engineering/everything else school in the world, I have always wanted to study there.

Ever since I realized that Nancy Drew could speak French, Spanish, some Japanese and even Incan ("Cutimunaikicama!"), I have always wanted to be fluent in at least a hundred languages myself.

Ever since I watched Karate Kid, I have always wanted to be a karate kid.

And ever since I read my first Tom Clancy book, I have always wanted to be Ding Chavez.

So...yeah. I'm not sure what I most resent Dolph Lundgren for -- his MIT scholarship, his linguistic abilities, his being an "elite marine ranger" (heck, I'd settle for any one of those three words), or his martial arts prowess -- but definitely, definitely, I hate him for showing me that my dream was achievable after all, and that if I hadn't achieved it, it could only be my fault, because I haven't even started to try.

***
By the way, The Expendables was fun, if you know not to expect too much. It was basically a bunch of guys trying to kill a bunch of bad guys, but it knew not to take itself seriously.

And Dolph Lundgren left MIT after a couple of weeks to become an actor. Geez! He's real-life Will-Hunting-I-have-to-go-see-about-a-girl stuff.

chasing giants

2010-08-12T16:36:00.003+08:00

To the person who put me up to this -- I think you should stick with your own lyrics. :-P

Do you have your favorite crossbow?
Have you brought some extra arrows?
The sun is up, it's time to go
It's a long walk through the mountains
We'll be lucky not to drown in
The river -- I can't swim, you know

And so we're off to chase giants
We'll save the world or die trying
I'm glad to have to you by my side
It's the craziest adventure
And as long as we've each other
It ought to be a life worthwhile

You told me I could catch a star
I guess you're right, 'cause here we are
We're riding on a comet's tail
You'll save my life, and I'll save yours
Together we will open doors
And live in our own fairy tale

In fairness to me, I resisted comparisons to Caspian and the star's daughter. Or to Elessar and the Evenstar. Hehe! I know, I know, I got nothin' on Taylor Swift. ;-)

the world through British eyes

2010-08-12T16:02:00.003+08:00

LONDON – Hold off from hugging an Indian, don't be alarmed if the French are rude and never mistake a Canadian for an American.

Britain's national tourism agency issued guidelines Wednesday on the etiquette of dealing with the hundreds of thousands of foreign visitors who will be coming to London for the 2012 Summer Olympics.

Seeking to help the country's sometimes snarky citizens offer a warmer welcome, VisitBritain has updated its advice for anyone likely to work with travelers arriving from overseas — from hotel staff to taxi drivers.

Other tips: Don't go around asking Brazilians personal questions and never be bossy with visitors from the Middle East.
READ FURTHER

I'm not sure they haven't actually just succeeded in offending everybody. Hahaha! But this is a fun read. :D

the romantic (that's me)

2010-08-11T20:55:00.000+08:00

Never heard of the movie (or the book) till I saw the trailer posted in Facebook.

And it says a lot about me that I somehow still wish that Katie Holmes' character would end up with Josh Duhamel's. And that I'm probably not gonna watch the movie because I just know they're not going to.

:)

how to lead a revolution

2010-08-11T16:58:00.003+08:00

Heavy traffic in our neighborhood at 1:30 PM on a weekday? And it's not even raining? Practically unheard of. And yet there I was this afternoon, hungry, nursing a semi-headache, and having to wait a full minute for the jeepney I was riding to traverse the last ten meters or so of my journey home.

It turns out that the students at the university across the street were waging some sort of rally. I don't know much about the issue -- come to think of it, I don't know a single thing about the issue...actually, I don't even know what the issue is -- so I can't comment on the validity of their arguments, et cetera, et cetera. However, being a child of a former PAL employee and having once walked the halls of UP, I have had my share of strikes and protests. Here are a few thoughts.

1. Try not to create a traffic jam. Seriously. I realize it can't be helped, sometimes, but try. Disrupting traffic tends to get people who would otherwise be sympathetic to your cause to just think that you have nothing better to do with your time than wasting theirs.

2. Get the masa on your side. More importantly, remember that the masa is not just the angry, dirty and dispossessed. Do you see those people who are trying to get on with their lives and doing the best they can in the present situation? Yeah? Those are the people you need to connect with. Rizal once said -- at least, I think it was Rizal who once said -- that no revolution can be successful without the support of the middle class. Likewise, your grievance won't go anywhere if you can't get the ordinary people on your side. If your only sympathizers are those who have made a career out of staging protests, don't expect too much.

3. Don't make a career out of staging protests. When I entered UP, there was this girl who was, like, third year or fourth year. When I left UP, she was, like, third year or fourth year. She was so into demanding quality education from the government that she kinda forgot to, um, like, get educated. Which kinda ruined her whole argument. Of course, a cause is a cause no matter who espouses it. But if you want to espouse a cause effectively, try to act like it matters to you.

4. Drop the anti-America chants and slogans. One funny thing about a lot of activists is that they blame everything on America. I mean, I get it. The colonial upbringing of our country did have and, in some insidious way, continues to have, an influence on our mindset, our attitudes, our culture. And there are American economic interests that want to have a hand in shaping our policies. But blaming everything on some other country -- America, China, Bosnia and Herzegovina -- is not only inaccurate, it gets old rather quickly. Pretty soon, no one's going to want to hear what you have to say, because they know it's going to be some updated version of the same old thing.

5. Be successful in something. This helps build credibility. Be a singer-activist, or a businessman-activist, or even just a hardworking-person activist, or a good-neighbor-activist, or a student-who-passes-exams-activist. The purpose of this is to prevent from arising the perception that the reason why you're on the losing end of such-and-such agreement or such-and-such policy is because, well, you're a loser.

6. Don't be an annoying person in everyday life. I'm finding it hard to sympathize with those students across the street right now, because they are Always. So. Noisy! It could be 2 AM, and people could be sleeping, but do these annoying little twerps lower their voices when they pass through the neighborhood? No. So am I automatically skeptical of whatever cause they're fighting for? I hate to admit it, but I have to say, yes. Just because it's them.

7. Go for it. If you have a grievance, and you think you're right, fight for it. Say what you have to say, say it well, say it to the right people, say it for a clear purpose, say it with conviction. Somewhere in this world, justice, fairness and equality live on and continue to be possible, as long as there is one person willing to stand and do something.

don't mess with me

2010-08-11T16:33:00.002+08:00

Anger is an awful thing. True, it is a perfectly normal response to a perceived wrong. But allow anger go too far, let it get to the point where you do something you shouldn't, and you lose your right to be Right. I learned this the hard way last weekend.

To the person I hurt -- I'm sorry for what I did. I really, really am. I wish it hadn't happened.

And, no, this doesn't mean that I've forgotten that you started it. Like I always say... Don't mess with me. ;-)

I Write Like

2010-07-22T22:39:00.002+08:00

It's official. According to I Write Like's [inaccurate, obviously] program, a lot of my posts read like they've been written by Dan Brown. At times, I also apparently write like Vladimir Nabokov, Cory Doctorow, and HP Lovecraft, of none of whom I have actually heard, much less read enough for their writing to be influential.

I don't read a lot of books; I read a few books a lot of times.

I wouldn't mind having the commercial appeal of Dan Brown. But I would really like to write with the clarity of Lewis, the imagination of Gaiman, the depth of Chesterton, the humor of Rowling, the perceptiveness of Francis, the elegance of Tolkien. I would like to write.

on the edge of something

2010-07-19T20:40:00.002+08:00

Do you ever feel like something could happen that could change everything? But that it may not happen? That you need to help make that something happen? But that one wrong move can stop it from happening forever? That serendipity may matter more than well-laid plans? That you are not really in control of your life, but that someone is? That tonight may be your last night on earth, or it may just be the beginning of an adventure so epic, it would take an epic to retell?

Call me silly, but something really could happen.

cariaso, loyalty, and a lesson in life

2010-07-09T23:14:00.002+08:00

We happened to catch a few minutes of a Ginebra - Alaska game while waiting for my mother to finish her x-rays (long story), and when the camera focused on Jeffrey Cariaso, Aivan said in surprise, "Aw, ga-duwa pa diay na siya?!"

That instant, I felt old.

(Well, no, I never feel old old. Just that I seem to have been around for quite some time now.)

I felt old because I actually remember Jeffrey Cariaso as a rookie. Alaska won a Grand Slam that year, I think, or...it might have been the next year. Either way, I remember Cariaso being an integral part of the team, playing well, getting a lot of minutes.

And then I remember feeling indignant on Alaska's behalf when I learned that Cariaso had accepted the offer to play for Mobiline instead.

"Is there no loyalty in this world?" I remember wondering aloud.

My father heard me, and imparted a lesson that sticks with me to this day.

"Do you think," he asked, "that if Cariaso stopped playing well, or got injured, that Alaska would keep him, out of loyalty?"

I knew, even then, that the answer was no.

This is the real world. At work, there's no such thing as blind loyalty, or there shouldn't be, not on your part. Because, in the end, the bottom line is the bottom line. In the end, it is a business, not a charity. Of course, one should do one's best for one's company, or organization, or team. But you should never do so at the expense of your own well-being. You can kill yourself trying to save your company, but know that the company is not going to kill itself to save you.

So, yeah, loyalty is good, but we need cash.

2010-07-07T20:26:00.002+08:00

Funny how people who promise they will always be there for each other gradually fall apart.

Is a lifetime just too long?

fighting an eclipse

2010-07-05T16:46:00.004+08:00

It is kind of a point of pride with me that I haven't watched Twilight, New Moon or Eclipse, don't plan to, haven't read any of the books, and don't plan to. I like the idea of standing unmoved by the trend, and being neither Team Jacob or Team Edward. Also, I am very protective of my time these days, and I'm scared of wasting it on what might be a Sweet Valley High - Vampire edition. (And apparently I just betrayed my age.)

Then again, being torn between a vampire and a werewolf is every little girl's dream, and it might be an interesting read. If someone can promise me that the books are well-written (and I don't mean Dan Brown-Mitch Albom-John Grisham-Paulo Coelho well-written, I mean GK Chesterton-JK Rowling-JRR Tolkien-Neil Gaiman-CS Lewis-John Le Carre well-written), I'm buying the entire set at once.

the job. bow.

2010-07-04T18:12:00.003+08:00

There are times I want to curse my job to death, and there are times that I feel an immense sense of gratitude for all that it enables me to do. I appreciate that, in a weird way, it is a blend of medicine and writing; I resent that it keeps me from writing about things that are important to me. The long hours, the draining tasks, keep me from figuring out what I really want to do. But I wonder: should I be glad that they at least keep me from realizing that I have no idea what I want to do?

The job. Bow.

election postscripts on behalf of the idiots

2010-06-30T06:30:00.003+08:00

In a few hours, Benigno Simeon Aquino III will become our president, and magnanimity in the face of victory will be the order of the day. As yet, though, he is still Noynoy Aquino, my president, and I intend to have the last word.

I and everyone else who voted for Noynoy have been described as "stupid" and even "brainless" by a lot of people. Now, I happen to know a lot of really, really, really smart people who voted for Noynoy. And it requires some stretch of the imagination to accept the premise that "my candidate had higher grades in college than yours, so I'm smarter than you."

But let's be generous. Let's support the belief (theirs) that they are smarter than we are. Let's pretend that they not only got flat 1.0's in Statistics, Economics, and Logic, they -- gasp! -- they actually got 0.1. Or, no, wait... Let's say their professors actually declined to give them a grade, because they (the professors) felt they were not worthy of judging such boundless brilliance. Oh. Em. Gee! I feel like I have to genuflect before addressing their comments.

Hmmm... Well... I think I'll pass. Anyway. The same person goes on to say:

To that, this stupid person humbly says: we all have different qualities that we look for in a leader. It may be that intelligent people value bearing over honesty. (Being brainless, I don't get it, but, well, I'm brainless.) Well, go for it. Go for it with your votes. On the other hand, I want a leader I can trust, and I went for it with my vote, and so did 15 million other Filipinos. We may turn out to be wrong, but we voted with our conscience. We voted for the person in whom we believed.

I will not go over all the reasons why I did not vote for your candidate. I do note that you did not respond to my question about him, namely, what has he done? For all his intelligence, his qualifications, his, um, bearing, what has he done? I salute you, however, for not attempting to defend his NDCC TV ad. You are quite right: it is indefensible.

I am truly sorry that you have to share the same country code with 15 million stupid people, but, um, no one's actually stopping from you leaving. Hey, maybe you could go to this guy's country:
Apparently, I didn't get the memo making him the judge of what is a blog and what isn't. I kind of wish it had been a political ad, and I had gotten paid for it. But for what it's worth, it was a blog, and I re-posted it on Facebook, and someone from Filipino Voices asked if they could re-publish it. I write for myself, and I can't help it if a few people like what I'm saying. (And I know a lot of people actually don't. And I can't actually say I give a rat's behind about their opinions.)

Speaking of people's opinions, here's what one reader had to say:
Jet P.,

Too bad, but you don't have a clue what you're talking about.

1. During the first few months of the year, I only watched around 2-4 hours of TV per week. Now that the American Idol has been crowned, I find I'm watching 0-0.25 hours per week. ABS-CBN may be biased towards Noynoy. As I hardly watch it, I wouldn't know. It's a bit rich of you to assume that people who hold different beliefs from yours do so because they were unduly influenced.

2. If all you can say in criticism of a survey is that it was commissioned, you are totally in over your head. It's too bad that people who pretend to have the right answers can't ask the right questions. Here are a few questions you could have asked: Was it a survey of the entire Philippines, or just the National Capital Region? If it was just of the NCR, you should ask: historically, do NCR survey results correlate with the results of the Philippine election? In either survey population, you should then ask: how was sampling done? Was it random? What was the sampling frame? Was it done over the phone (and therefore limited to people who had phones)? Did the surveyors just go up to any person they see, or did they have to get the vote of specific people chosen randomly from a list of qualified voters? Jet, jet, jet... You don't seem to know that much about surveys, so where did you get your information? What made you think the surveys were rigged? Who came up with that explanation for Noynoy's pre-election standings? Who whined and whined about "unrepresentative" surveys? Who's brainwashed now?

3. The third accusation, I admit, really gets me in the gut. This guy, reading that part of my article where I say "Under different circumstances, the person I would have voted for is Dick Gordon" and apparently failing to digest everything else, is accusing me of compromising my principles, just because I am voting for someone who is technically less qualified than his candidate. Yes, I admit it: Noynoy does not have the achievements of Gordon. But there other things that, for me, are just as important as a person's resume, and sometimes these are the invisible things that are, in the end, essential.

Surveys -- had you bothered to think deeper, you would know this -- do not only gauge winnability. It is an elitist delusion that the masses react only to a person's popularity. In medical missions, in trips to the market, I have spoken with all sorts of people, and this I know: they think. They dream. They care. Surveys are more than a barometer of affection. They are reflections of the common sentiment, of what people want from their government. People may vote through gut-feel, but that gut-feel comes from somewhere. A leader understands that.

A president must not only be able to walk with kings; he must take care not to lose the common touch. A leader must not only be great; he must have the ability to inspire greatness. At this point, for me, Gordon does not have that connection with the masses. If that is something that you feel you can ignore, that's fine with me. But don't you dare insinuate that I have compromised my principles, because you don't know me, you don't know how I think, and you don't understand me. Step out of your coffee shops, your high-rise buildings, your intellectual underground. Because it doesn't look like you understand your people either. You want what's best for them, but you haven't bothered to be them.

Some people seem not to have read my article thoroughly. And then there are the people who may have read it too thoroughly, to the point of reading things that were not there:

"Ligaya herself says that if Ligaya's mom were to submit a blogpost, then she can explain why Gibo is the best candidate for Pilipinas president." Huh? Where did I say that? Moreover, this guy's comment hints, and another of his comments (which I failed to get a screenshot of) categorically says, that if my arguments were valid, I would be able to convince my mother to vote for Noynoy. What, then, can he say about the validity of my mother's arguments, which have failed to convince me? Tsk tsk tsk. The perfect response to this comment is a Cebuano expression that is unfortunately un-translatable... Pag-sure uy.

Then there is this condescending one from someone named, appropriately, Miriam:

No one who lives in Cebu -- or who at least researches the headlines of Cebu's local papers before making comments -- can say that Cebu is always engaged in positive politics. Our former mayor is one of the most brutally frank and even quarrelsome politicians we know...and we like him for that. Unlike some people, he isn't afraid to call a spade a spade. So, no, we don't engage in positive politics to the point of sugarcoating anomalies in government and trying to wriggle out of uncomfortable commitments. But we are rather sensible people on the whole, I think.

That's why Noynoy won here.

One last word on surveys. Of course their results will not be 100% representative and accurate. If they were, there would be no need to hold general elections -- just do a survey! They are not, and so there is. Less than 100% accuracy is an inherent flaw of any survey, "commissioned" or not. (I'd like to see a survey conducted without a budget!)

What is important in analyzing the results of a survey is knowing what it is a survey of, and how the sample was chosen. If it used random sampling, you should be okay believing that what it says, about that segment of the population that it studied, is likely to be true of the population as a whole.

When you have a throat infection, someone takes a swab from your throat, takes it back to the lab, gets the bacteria to multiply, and tests which antibiotics are most effective against it. The lab tells your doctor, and your doctor gives you a prescription. Are you going to say, "I'm not going to believe the culture results because the swab was only taken from the upper right corner of my throat"? Or are you going to say, "I don't believe the culture results because the lab is in a hospital that has a Pfizer library"? No one can force you to take a particular antibiotic -- go ahead and take Roch herbal capsules, if you want to -- but you might as well say that you're doing it because you want to, not because of any flaw in the culture-and-sensitivity test.

A lot of people don't have to deal with statistics in their line of work, and I understand that. I'm just saying, if you don't know that much to begin with, do some research before diving into the issue. If you must insult the intelligence and integrity of your peers, make sure you're not throwing stones from a glass house. Kasi nakakahiya.

My purpose in writing that article was two-fold: to explain why I am voting for Noynoy, and to try to convince the undecided to vote likewise. "We all have different reasons why we support one candidate and not another," I wrote. "I respect that." The response I got, for the most part, was great. People who agreed with me were encouraged to voice out their own beliefs, or to continue to do so. Friends who I knew were voting for another candidate kept a respectful silence. Some people expressed their disagreement, but in an inoffensive manner. Ganun na man talaga dapat.

During the elections, the biggest question was who to vote for. Well, whether you voted for him or not, Benigno Simeon C. Aquino III is now our president, and he needs all the help he can get. The question now is: do we let the election fever die down? Or do we transform it into a force for positive change, in ourselves and in our country? By our actions will the merit of our convictions be judged.

The presidency is a position of trust, so I am voting for someone I can trust. It's that simple.

2010-04-26T06:36:00.015+08:00

A lot of people I know have already made up their minds on who to vote as president. If you truly believe, as I do, that your choice for president is the best person to lead our nation, I respect your conviction. I would expect nothing less from Filipinos who truly care what happens to our country. If your choice is informed, if your heart is at peace, if the person you are voting for is someone you would follow to death should the need arise, then so be it. But for those who still have to make that choice, or for those who have made tentative picks but are still willing to entertain a small seed of doubt, I beg leave to present my case for the man I think is most deserving of my vote.

The Reality

Under different circumstances, the person I would have voted for is Dick Gordon. His qualifications can be summed up in 5 words: Subic, Wow Philippines, Red Cross. The man's leadership skills, vision, and passion for service are unquestionable. Now here's the sad reality: he will not win. Maybe in the future, when Filipinos are smarter, when we have all learned to distinguish performance from personality, Dick Gordon can become president, and a deserving one at that. But today he will not win.

A vote is not a roll of the dice; it is a weapon, it is a strategy. And I feel that, considering the close competition of those at the top of the surveys, insisting on voting for a good man who will not win is terribly unwise. I do wish Dick Gordon had chosen to run for vice-president instead.

The fight for the 2010 presidency is now really just between four people: Noynoy, Villar, Gibo and Estrada. I wish that were not so, but if we do not accept reality, we lay ourselves open to its dangers.

The Road to the Presidency

Many Filipinos I know and respect are voting for a different candidate from my own. Among them is my mother, whose vocal support for Gibo is the reason why I have not, until lately, openly campaigned for my own choice of president. While my father and sister are voting for Noynoy, some of my other family and friends are voting for Villar, and others, I'm sure, are still swayed by Estrada's charm. We all have different reasons why we support one candidate and not another. I respect that. But now I must explain my vote, and to do that, I have to explain why I am not voting for the others. Sorry.

Joseph Estrada

Let's start with Erap. Those looking for experience alone need look no further. He entered politics in 1967, became senator in 1987, and was elected president (without the help of Garci, I might add) in 1998. If you count experience by the number of times people were convinced to vote for him, Erap is your man. And that just goes to show that experience, as a qualification, is unreliable. Jueteng. Jose Velarde account. Boracay mansion. Laarni Enriquez, etc., etc. Unexplained wealth. Need I go on? In 2001, I was among the many who took to the streets when his impeachment trial was turned into a joke by his allies. Since 2001, I am happy to say, I have not actually lost my mind yet. I have no desire for Malacanang to turn into the Playboy mansion again.

Gilbert Teodoro

Supporters of Gibo have a slogan: "I think, therefore I am for Gibo." Well, I have thought about it, and thought about it well, and I am not for Gibo.

If you really think about it, there is just nothing in Gibo's qualifications that would make him the best person to lead the country. His supporters boast of his experience, but he entered politics as a congressman in 1998, the same year as Noynoy, six years behind Villar, and a good 31 years after Erap. Administration loyalists want Gibo to continue Pres. Arroyo's "good work." Since Gloria's declared wealth, since she became senator 17 years ago, has grown by 2,000% (that's two thousand percent, in case you missed it the first time), I sincerely hope no one gets to continue that kind of work. Some Gibo fans are just enamored with his ability to fly a plane, but all that tells me is that he is tall enough to meet the height requirement and rich enough to pay for flying lessons. Not exactly the same criteria that need to be met by a president.

One of the things that Noynoy Aquino's detractors always say about him is that he has done nothing significant since he entered public service. For my part, I, too, cannot specifically name anything Gibo has done since he entered public service. (Can you?) I did not even know he existed until he appeared in TV ads for the National Disaster Coordinating Council -- an agency that, by the way, does not need advertising. His supporters have since accused Noynoy and Villar of spending too much in campaign ads, but let's not forget that before that schmaltzy "Hindi Ka Nag-Iisa" ad of Noynoy's came out, before Villar's catchy tunes and well-produced videos were released, there was Gibo and his public funds-funded NDCC ad.

Manny Villar

Manny Villar's is a rags-to-riches story. His ascent from Tondo slum kid to one of the Philippines' richest men is the foremost reason why a lot of people are voting for him. If he can do it for himself, he can do it for the country.

But will he? At what cost?

There are many reasons why I am not voting for Villar. Here are just a few of them:

1. His ads are misleading. And they were designed to be so. You would think, looking at images of poor kids in garbage dumps singing "Hindi bawal mangarap ang mahirap," that Villar himself was as poor as that. He was not. His father was an inspector for the Bureau of Fisheries and subsequently held a director position in the Department of Agriculture and Natural Resources. His mother was a shrimp and fish vendor at the Divisoria Public Market, but if you think "market vendor" necessarily means "poor," think again. I have relatives and classmates who live quite comfortably on their parents' public market earnings.

2. Granted, while not exactly impoverished, Villar was not born an Ayala. Or even a Cojuangco. Let's just say that he was relatively poor. Tell me this, then. How does a Tondo kid become a viable contender for the presidency? By eventually becoming rich, right? By working his way up the political ladder? Well, then. Answer this. In the current business and political climate of the Philippines, can someone, who had very little financial and political capital to start with, really go on to become one of the richest and most powerful men in the Philippines, without bribery, compromise of principles and favors to repay? Forgive the long sentence -- it's a simple question, and the answer is no.

3. Villar himself says, in one of his ads, that if he really wanted to become richer, he would have just gone back to business. His supporters say that the millions he is pouring into his campaign does not make sense financially, and that therefore it is not a business move, and that therefore he is not in it for the money, that he just wants to serve. But that is not exactly true. There is nothing like easy money. (Ask Gloria.) There is nothing like putting yourself in a position where you can control infrastructure, influence policies, direct loan releases, and intimidate the competition, all under the guise of serving the people. Villa knows this, we know this, but he thinks we are stupid enough to believe he would have just gone back to business if he was just after money. Well, are we?

4. I call it the Baby James phenomenon. This is what all the ads, all the songs, all the big-name endorsements are for. Repeat something long enough and it will start to appear true. The slogans will start to sink in, subconsciously or otherwise, proof of which is that his adversary's own nephew is shouting out Villar's name. Villar's campaign is high-budget PR at its best. You think Manny Villar is the best candidate for president. But do you really think so?

5. Willie Revillame. Dolphy. Manny Pacquiao (and his groupie Chavit Singson). If we are known by the company we keep, what does that make Villar? (Aside from rich.)

Maybe Villar can make the Philippines prosperous. I'm not saying it is not within his abilities to do so. But again I ask: at what cost?

For me, though, Villar's strategies took an appalling turn last week, when Andal Ampatuan, Jr., the man ~~undoubtedly~~ allegedly behind the Maguindanao Massacre, held a press conference inside jail and "endorsed" Noynoy Aquino for president. This, just one week after he was spotted wearing the orange baller identified with Villar's campaign. Ampatuan's announcement initially numbed me -- how could Noynoy associate himself with such a monster? But the more I thought of it, the more the "endorsement" seemed unbelievable. Ampatuan may be evil, but he is not stupid. He knows he is one of the most hated men in the country. If he really supported Noynoy, the best thing he could have done was to keep it quiet. But he didn't. He called for a press con in jail. But who controls jails? Who has the power to allow a press con inside a jail? Who is a known friend of the Ampatuans? Who just ordered the release of two Ampatuans? And yet the administration has not been supporting its own candidate, Gibo Teodoro, as of late. Who is suspected to be making deals with the administration? Who stands to benefit most from whatever backlash Ampatuan's "endorsement" would have on Noynoy's bid for the presidency? And then the frightening question: How did he get Ampatuan to do that "endorsement?" What promises would a mass murderer be interested in? And even more important, if he wins, what kind of a president would a man be, who makes deals with philanderers, thieves and murderers?

Why I Am Voting for Noynoy

By now it should be obvious who I am voting for, and that is Noynoy Aquino.

I don't believe that having heroes for parents qualify a person for the presidency. I don't believe that one person can rid the entire government of corruption. And I don't believe for one second that getting rid of corruption, even if it were possible, would put an end to poverty in this country.

What I do believe is this: I need a leader I can trust. I need someone whose hands have not been stained by corrupt deals and politicking. I need someone who has enough leadership experience but who hasn't yet sunk into the Philippine political quagmire.

Some say Noynoy has done nothing. The more accurate observation would be: he has not sought the spotlight. There is a difference, and it is an important one. Read "Noynoy Aquino, out of the shadows", a report from the Philippine Center for Investigative Journalism.

A lot of people resent Noynoy for riding on his parents' popularity. But let's not forget that before his mother died, and public clamor rose for him to take on the presidency, Noynoy had no intention of running for the highest office in the land, at least not in 2010. Noynoy was content to stay in the sidelines and do his own thing. Until Cory's death reminded us that honest, principled, good-intentioned presidents were still possible. With that in mind, some of us looked around for an honest, principled and good-intentioned man, and our gaze fell on Noynoy. We asked him to run, he hesitated, thought about it, prayed about it, and then with resolve said yes. Why do we resent him for taking on a challenge that we ourselves laid on him? Isn't this what we wanted? A good man to run for president?

It's true: Noynoy is popular because he is an Aquino. But if that means that he has had no need to be a media whore, if that means that he has not had to compromise his principles to go up the political ladder, if that means he has less political debts to pay, so be it. I would still rather have him for president.

As long as people are lazy, as long as people are irresponsible, as long as people go on having ten kids while on a monthly income of zero, there will always be poverty, and there is nothing that a president with outstanding business acumen can do about that.

But when we do decide that we have had enough of subsisting on one meager meal per day, when we decide to go to school and study hard, when we decide to work until we're tired to the bone, when we decide not to squander our earnings on vices but save instead for our children's education, when we decide to maybe set up our own small businesses and create jobs for our fellowmen, we will need our government to be there for us. We will need our government to be fair and just, to spend money where it is needed, to create projects where they will most be useful, to cut the red tape, to plug the leaks in the system. Most of all, we will need a government that will do what is right, at all times, at whatever cost, and inspire us to do the right thing. And for me, the person who is in the best position to make sure that that happens is Noynoy Aquino. Business geniuses can be tapped, people with superb organizational skills can be brought on board, but the presidency is a position of trust. Noynoy is not a perfect man but he is the better man, by far, and the one who most deserves to be entrusted with my vote and my country.

chief macliing dulag

2010-04-22T11:41:00.003+08:00

The summer before senior year in high school, a few friends and I joined an environmental work camp organized by the Visayas Network for Environmental Sustainability. We immersed ourselves in forest and river ecosystems, built rock weirs (and other stuff that I've now totally forgotten...sorry Ags...hehe) and had tons of fun. It was there that I first learned about this man.

Chief Macliing Dulag was a tribal chieftain in Kalinga province and is remembered for his efforts to resist the Chico Dam project. He took his place in our work camp manual alongside such revered names as Chief Seattle, and it made me proud to learn he was Filipino.

"One story tells of how the respected pangat was invited by then Presidential Assistant for National Minorities (PANAMIN) chief Manuel Elizalde to a high-end hotel and offered him a thick envelope.

"Macliing reported[ly] replied, 'This envelope can contain only one of two things – a letter or money. If it is a letter, I do not know how to read. And if it its money, I do not have anything to sell. So take your envelope and go.'" (GMANews.TV)

It's a story that makes my heart swell with pride. But what I really remember most about Macliing Dulag were the words quoted in our manual: "You ask us if we own the land and mock us, saying 'Where is your title?' Such arrogance of owning the land when you shall be owned by it. How can you own that which will outlive you?"

April 22 is Earth Day, and it's the perfect time to re-examine our attitude towards the land, the sea, the sky, and all the creatures with whom we share our planet.

Malapascua 103

2010-04-15T17:19:00.010+08:00

The main beach in Malapascua Island is called Bounty Beach, which is where most of the big resorts are located. I'm not sure exactly where it starts or ends, but the good thing about Malapascua is that the resorts haven't put up fences. That's probably not legal, anyway, but that hasn't stopped the resorts in Mactan from doing it. In Malapascua, you can walk the entire stretch of white sand.

You can. But it won't be easy. The sand is so soft, your feet literally sink with every step. It doesn't matter because you're not in a hurry anyway. Unless you're carrying two enormous bottles of water.This is where the boat from Maya docks.Just a few steps away is the Maldito Bar, which is popular with the beer-guzzling crowd.Go counter-clockwise and you'll be by a big blue resort named -- all subtlety thrown out the window -- Blue Corals Resort.Next you'll find a resort in the midst of an identity crisis. Originally named Blue Water Resort, it was forced to change its name because someone else had already called dibs on "Blue Water" so now it's just Malapascua Beach Resort.Cocobana Beach Resort is one of the more popular accommodations in the island. Mind you, sometimes I can't really tell where one resort ends and the next one begins, so if I get some of the photos mixed up, mea culpa.
One of the resorts that I really loved [passing through] was the Sunsplash Resort because they had outfitted their beach front with low dark wooden chairs with white cushions. It had an outdoor-coffee-shop-by-the-beach sort of vibe, which I really loved.

Anyone who has ever studied anatomy will then go "Wat da --?!" but the resort next to Sunsplash is really, truly, honestly called the Hippocampus Beach Resort.

And then there was this long, long stretch of beach with unassuming cottages and a lone sign that simply read Dano Beach Resort.

At this point we were all huffing and puffing because of all the stuff we'd been carrying from the boat. We had heard that food in Malapascua was ridiculously expensive, so we'd brought our own provisions -- gallons of water, ready-to-grill meat, bottles of soft drinks (and some not-so-soft drinks), utensils, a rice cooker, the works.

If you do want relatively reasonably priced food in Malapascua, people in the know will point you to one place: Ging-Ging's Flower Garden, a restaurant at the back of Cocobana. Friendly advice, though: don't go there if you're already hungry. If you order corned beef, you will have to wait while they find a cow, slaughter it, corn the beef, cook it and serve it. At least that's how it seemed to me. We had to wait almost an hour for our food to be served, and there were just three other tables with people in them. And they are not on the beach, so you don't even have a view to enjoy while you wait (and wait and wait) for your food -- your only entertainment will be the sound of chickens clucking in the background. I had insisted on going to Ging-Ging's because I'd heard their mango pancakes were just super, but I wished I'd just gone for the mango pancakes at Exotic. The P30 I'd saved on the price just wasn't worth the aggravation.

You can never stay on a bad mood for long in Malapascua though. The sun is just too warm, the sand too white, the water too inviting. And, if you remember, bad moods, stress and all those other annoying facts of life are why you're in Malaspascua in the first place -- to escape from all that. Life can get crazy sometimes, and it's fun, memorable moments with friends and loved ones that can keep you [relatively] sane.

Malapascua 102

2010-04-13T19:48:00.004+08:00

Malapascua is such a small island, one can go around it in 30 minutes or so. At least that's what I was told before I got there, and when I arrived at midday, I took a nap and looked forward to a leisurely late afternoon walk along the Malapascua coastline. My starting point was the beach just in front of Mike and Diose's Beachcottage.Just next to Mike and Diose's -- owned, in fact, by Mike and Diose themselves -- is the Aabana resort. This is where the team stayed. The entire beach house is only P2,000 a night, air conditioned, with an American breakfast for two people. Each additional person is provided an air bed and breakfast for just P150 each. There's cable television, a fridge, a bathroom with a water heater (that didn't heat, that time we were there) and an attic. The attic itself is like a whole other room and can comfortably accommodate 4-8 people (depending on your definition of comfort). The downside is that they charge you for electricity and they don't tell you about it beforehand.
And then there is the Malapascua Exotic I sland Dive and Beach Resort. The name is a mouthful, so the locals simply refer to it as "Exotic." Apart from its PADI programs, Exotic offers guests a peaceful atmosphere (admittedly occasionally broken by shrieks from people staying at Aabana -- you know who you are), seagrass-free water, hammocks, and beach chairs by the dozen. Fan rooms go for P1,200 a night. No breakfast, but they do give you welcome drinks.
One hour and hot sandy feet later, I still hadn't gone halfway around the island. Moral lesson: Thirty minutes "or so" can mean anything from thirty minutes to thirty days. Or so.

Still to come: the rest of the resorts and restaurants that I spotted in my aborted attempt to circumnavigate (if the term can be applied to trudging through soft sand) Malapascua island, where not to go for breakfast if you're hungry, and other similarly life-changing Malapascua trivia.

Malapascua 101

2010-04-12T19:59:00.005+08:00

White sand, hot sun, green waters, and heavenly mango pancakes. It's summer in the Philippines, and nothing says fun in the sun better than Malapascua island. Touted as Cebu's "little Boracay," Malapascua is a small island off the northern tip of Cebu. And I do mean tip -- it's a four-hour bus ride from Cebu City to Maya in the town of Daan Bantayan. Nevertheless, people keep coming to Malapascua because the diving is great -- the island, for some people, is synonymous with thresher sharks -- and because the smaller crowds mean that it is quite possible to have that stretch of white sand all to yourself, even on a weekend.

How To Get There

Until my dream of a subway train stretching from Daan Bantayan to Santander becomes a reality, you will have to get to Malapascua the way I did last Saturday: by bus.

Buses for Maya, Daan Bantayan depart from the Cebu City North Bus Terminal at regular intervals. Most people would recommend getting on a Ceres bus (they are reputedly safer and are colored bright yellow -- you can't miss them), but I took the Rough Rider bus (the name speaks for itself) and lived to tell the tale. Northern locals say there's a bus to Maya as early as 4 AM, but what I can say for sure is that there are already several buses waiting to go to Maya at 7 AM. Make sure the signboard on the bus says "Maya Bagay" or "Maya via Bagay."
From the Maya port, outrigger boats will take you to Malapascua island. There are boat trips scheduled every half hour. However, if there are only a few of you, say, on the 11:30 AM trip, the boat captain might decide your collective fares (it's P50 per person) are not worth the fuel it will take to bring you to Malapascua. So the trip gets "cancelled" and you all are then carried over to the 12:oo NN trip. And so on, until there are enough of you taking the trip. If you don't want to wait, you can charter a "special trip" for P1,200 and a boat will take you to the island ASAP.
At both the Maya and Malapascua ports, if the tide is low, the outrigger boats (or "pump boats") might not be able to get near enough to shore for you to step aboard directly. If that's the case, smaller boats called "tunda" will take you from port to boat, or vice versa, for P10-P20 per person. Even then, expect to get wet up to your ankles, and maybe up to your knees, so leave the pants at home. (And besides, it's summer!)

More, later.

almost alice

2010-04-09T20:15:00.003+08:00

It sometimes takes an imaginary world to bring out the real person. In Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland, the Hatter looks at Alice with disillusioned eyes and tells her she's lost her muchness. In defiance of that observation, Alice sneaks into the Red Queen's castle and steals the sword that will help her slay the Jabberwocky, all the while still thinking she couldn't do any of those things to save her life. The fact that she does all of those things anyway gets Absolem to change his mind from saying she's "not hardly Alice" to telling her she is "almost Alice."

Have you ever had the feeling that you're less than what you used to be? Because I have. I sometimes feel that growing up has meant fading, and making a living has meant postponing life. I've tried to fight that -- tried to tread the road less traveled, tried to do things my way -- but sometimes it feels like a losing battle.

Lost my muchness, have I?

We'll see about that.

girl needs prayers

2010-04-08T19:29:00.004+08:00

I would like to take this opportunity to ask everyone to please pray for me.

I really, really, really want to win the Citi Visa Swipe Your Way To South Africa Promo.

I know it's a long shot -- it's not even a standing-in-half-court long shot, it's more of a shot-from-the-locker-room long shot -- but miracles have been known to happen occasionally.

I did try to think of football-related metaphors, but I couldn't come up with one. Probably because I'm not that fond of football. Nevertheless, I really, really, really want to go to the World Cup because:

1. It's in South Africa, and I've always wanted to go on a safari. Going to a stadium full of rabid football fans -- in South Africa, no less -- is kinda like going on a South African safari. And who knows, maybe I could take a side trip and go on an actual safari. Citi Visa is giving away $1000 in pocket money. Uh huh, in addition to plane tickets and hotel stays.

2. I like festive atmospheres. Nothing says festive like being in a stadium with face-painted half-drunk hooligans supporting their home teams, singing songs, and just being raucous. Just as long as nobody throws up on me 'cause that's a sure way of ruining face paint.

3. Did I mention there's $1000 in pocket money? I could even not go and I'd still have a thousand dollars in my pocket. But why should I not go? It's in South Africa! It'll be festive!

So please start praying. The draw is on the 14th of April. Thank you. ^_^

The customer is always right. Right? Wrong!

2010-04-07T20:42:00.005+08:00

Today I received an email from my boss reminding me of these rules for customer service:
1. The customer is always right.
2. If the customer is wrong, go back to rule number 1.

This is actually a quote attributed to Steve Leonard. Whoever he is, I hope he goes to heaven, because I can just imagine him in hell spending eternity taking calls from irate customers. ^_^ The actual phrase "the customer is always right" was either originated by Marshall Field or Harry Gordon Selfridge (remind me never to work in department stores), but the idea supposedly comes from "the customer is never wrong," which was coined by Cesar Ritz (or in hotels).

Well, bully for the Leonards, Fields, Selfridges and Ritzes of the world. I think, though, that I'm sticking with: if you're right, you're right; if you're wrong, you're wrong; and if you're a customer who insists that you're always right, that just tells me you know you're wrong, deep down, and you're just too stubborn to admit it, or too stupid to see it. It's disgusting that right or wrong should depend on who's paying for what. If that's the "real world" then I don't think much of the real world and I'm not playing along.

There have been several attempts to make this policy a bit more palatable to employees. There is "the customer isn't always right, but he is always first" and "the customer isn't always right, but he must always win the argument."

To borrow from Hagrid, "Ah, go boil yer heads, the whole lot of yeh."

2010-04-07T20:07:00.002+08:00

I really should be sleeping, but there's no way I'm missing Lennon-McCartney week on Idol. ^_^

Say No to Gravity

2010-04-06T19:33:00.003+08:00

There was a period in our lives when my sister would play this song all the time. Like, all the time. But I've never been able to fully appreciate it until lately.

"Defying Gravity"

Something has changed within me
Something is not the same
I'm through with playing by the rules
Of someone else's game
Too late for second-guessing
Too late to go back to sleep
It's time to trust my instincts
Close my eyes... and leap!

It's time to try
Defying gravity
I think I'll try
Defying gravity
Kiss me goodbye
I am defying gravity
And you won't bring me down!

I'm through accepting limits
'Cause someone says they're so
Some things I cannot change
But till I try, I'll never know!
Too long I've been afraid of
Losing love I guess I've lost
Well, if that's love
It comes at much too high a cost!

I'd sooner buy
Defying gravity
Kiss me goodbye
I'm defying gravity
I think I'll try
Defying gravity
And you won't bring me down

A lot of times this year, I've felt weighed down by demons -- depression, despair, expectations, responsibilities. Having too much on my plate and keeping too little for myself at the end of the day. So this song has been like an anthem. Music and words have been my lifelines of late, and somehow...I feel like I'm finally surfacing.

meeting the S's

2010-04-05T18:57:00.007+08:00

Have I mentioned that I got engaged last Christmas? I don't think I have, but if we're Facebook buddies, you probably know already. While transferring files yesterday afternoon, I saw these photos again and thought them worth posting.

These photos were taken when our families had dinner together and discussed the engagement and the wedding preparations and all that.

One of the things that I'm sure most brides and grooms-to-be worry about is whether their families will be able to get along or not. In that respect, I think, Aivan and I have been lucky. Our families have different ways of doing things, but thankfully none of us have scheming siblings or parents who keep looking down their noses. It's kinda scary, getting all these instant relatives, but, well, I have a million relatives so at least it'll be scarier for Aivan than for me. Haha!

and that is the sound of edith hamilton turning in her grave

2010-04-04T21:46:00.003+08:00

I've watched two Greek mythology-inspired movies in as many months -- and when I say "inspired" I mean that the characters' names were taken from the ancient Greek stories. The characters' characters, the plots, everything else appeared to be fair game.

Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief is about a modern-day demigod, Percy Jackson, a son of Poseidon and a mortal woman. Zeus accuses Percy of stealing his thunder bolt and threatens war if it isn't returned. Zeus, in the myths, is never really known for his logic, but even so, why Zeus, in the movie, would jump to such a conclusion (my-thunder-bolt-is-gone-so-Poseidon's-son-must-have-taken-it) is still a mystery to me. Another thing that just didn't make sense was Percy's mom's explanation of why she chose to live with a smelly alcoholic (to disguise the scent of Percy's blood...good grief). And in a museum scene, Percy is told that the statue was that of his namesake, Perseus, so why (oh why) was Medusa still alive and thriving in Aunty Em's Garden Emporium?

Speaking of Perseus, I watched Clash of the Titans today...and it didn't make that much more sense either. For one, the title was totally inappropriate, as not one Titan makes it past the five-minute mark. For another, they totally butchered Perseus' story. Probably the only thing they got right was that Perseus did cut off Medusa's head (and not Percy Jackson, centuries later) but the reason wasn't even the right one. I don't get why Medusa couldn't turn the Sand Demon to stone but could the Kraken. Or how Io managed to watch over Perseus all his life. Swam beside the wooden crate bearing Perseus and Danae? Perched on a cliff while Hades dived on Perseus' family's boat. She was that good a stalker but she didn't sense Acrisius coming up behind her?

Then again, if I really expected what are essentially action movies to bother too much about accuracy and plot development, I probably don't have that much sense either. ^_^ My opinion? The movies were wastes of time, but if you had time to waste, and free movie tickets to redeem, what the heck, go for it. ^_^

the old man and his paperback

2010-04-04T20:35:00.003+08:00

A couple of weeks ago, a neatly dressed, white-haired old man hailed the jeepney that I was riding. He stepped inside and took his seat, and I noticed he was holding a paperback -- a legal thriller from the looks of it. As the jeepney resumed its course towards Ayala, the old man found the page where he had tucked his bookmark and resumed reading.

The scene struck me for so many reasons.

For one, I never would have thought of an old person reading a legal thriller. I mean there's really no reason why they shouldn't, but when I picture old people reading, I would probably picture them with a newspaper in hand, or some other reading material that is useful and informative. Shows how much I know. I guess bookworms grow old, too, whereas reading preferences don't have to change with age.

What really got me thinking, though, was this: why would an old man read a paperback right then and there? Reading could damage his eyesight (or at least that's what old people tell me when I read in a moving vehicle.) The book wasn't that important; it wasn't something that couldn't wait until he got home. And it wasn't one of those long journeys where you fend off boredom with books. I mean, again, there was no reason why he shouldn't...but...why should he?

And I guess the only answer is: because he wanted to. Because he didn't want to wait until he got home. Because some things are too good to put off. Because every moment counts, and you can either wait for a better time, or you can decide that the right time is right now.

If we had crashed that day, that old man might have been the only one among us who could truly say that he died while doing something he loved.

Dick Francis, 89

2010-02-15T19:16:00.004+08:00

Dick Francis, the best-selling British thriller writer and former champion jockey, died on Sunday in his home in the Cayman Islands. He was 89.

A successful steeplechase jockey, Francis turned to writing after he retired from racing in 1957. He penned 42 novels, many of which featured racing as a theme. His books were translated into more than 20 languages, and in 2000 Queen Elizabeth II — whose mother was among his many readers — honored Francis by making him a Commander of the British Empire.

Read the rest of the AP obituary.

My first Dick Francis novel was Come To Grief, and since then I've been a rabid fan of most of his novels. To The Hilt is a favorite, as are Decider, 10 lb Penalty, Hot Money and Proof.

His wife Mary was an invaluable collaborator in his stories. If his hero was a photographer, for instance, Mary would actually enrol in a photography course to get the details right. When she died, son Felix stepped into her shoes but they just didn't fit as well.

What I love about DF stories was that his heroes were good, decent people -- men who may have emotional baggage, bad childhoods, sorry conditions, but who sensibly tried to do the best they can with the lives they had. DF felt no need to exorcise his own demons by creating complex characters. I'm a psych major, so I'm unimpressed by characters with "issues." In a world that admires complicated souls, it's nice to read of a hero who knows right from wrong and makes no excuses. Oh, and his plots were darn good, too.

The first thing I looked for when I browsed through used-books shelves was a Dick Francis, until it came to the point that there was no used DF book that I hadn't read. I then repressed my usual stinginess and bought new books, and when that no longer yielded new reading material, I resorted to torrents. (Sorry, DF. Some of your books just weren't available legally.)

It's sad to know that when I finally get to read all the back issues, there won't be any more DF stories to look forward to. A new book co-written by Felix Francis is due to be published this year, but it's co-written by Felix Francis so I don't know whether to be excited or apprehensive. Will Sid and Jenny ever get back together? With DF departed, probably never.

Lewis is dead, and so is Tolkien, and Conan Doyle has been for almost a century. Now Dick Francis is gone, too. I'm so sad...

eight years ago today

2010-02-03T16:21:00.001+08:00

just before the 10 AM mass

the moon

2010-01-30T05:46:00.001+08:00

The bright full moon made the 4 AM sky as pretty as a picture today. As the world sped by, on my way to work, I wished I had a camera to capture all the beautiful scenes that I saw. The moon and nearby Mars over Waterfront's castle-like silhouette was particularly dreamy.

As a kid a couple of years ago, I remember looking at the moon and realizing for the first time what the science books always say -- that it was actually an enormous piece of rock that was out there, in vast, unending space. Other amazing revelations subsequently occurred -- that the sun was actually a much more enormous ball of gas, that the stars were even bigger but that you couldn't reach them in your lifetime even if you could fly -- but it was the moon that started it all.

Surrounded by these great, glorious creations -- dwarfed by the immensity of the universe -- it's easier to take one's life in perspective. We are but a passing tale, and the wonder of it all is that each of our small tales still matters.