i was in tears when i saw this video on this link:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5g7zlJx9u2E
after reading on the incident from the insidehighered.com site, what's a guy to do? answers would be welcome.
why!??
Monday, November 20, 2006
Friday, November 17, 2006
ok, so i've been lazy
but being in a new place and cold weather is not really a recipe for being up and about. or to write. you do a lot of thinking, but it kinda freezes in your mind like tongue on newly minted dry ice.
i got one that butch dalisay "published" in his pinoy_penman blog. being that i'm a big fan of his prose, i was kinda giddy that he thought an email i sent was "edgy" enough or engaging. it was really just an email i sent him, never imagining it would find a public stage. of course its just a blog, i'm sure its no big deal. but i root heavy for cheap thrills, so i'll put that right here and simmer in my own delight.
its cut and paste, warts and all:
i got one that butch dalisay "published" in his pinoy_penman blog. being that i'm a big fan of his prose, i was kinda giddy that he thought an email i sent was "edgy" enough or engaging. it was really just an email i sent him, never imagining it would find a public stage. of course its just a blog, i'm sure its no big deal. but i root heavy for cheap thrills, so i'll put that right here and simmer in my own delight.
its cut and paste, warts and all:
From the Readers (3)
IT'S TIME to dig into our mailbag for some interesting responses from the readers. I’m publishing three such comments below, all verbatim, with these readers’ kind permission. I'm not saying that these are necessarily the best-written ones, or those I most strongly agree or disagree with; let's just say they have an edge to them that others might find engaging. From now on, I’ll be providing the readers’ e-mail addresses as well, so that other readers can respond directly to them if they so wish.
On “Civil Society?”
great dilemma you put out there. and i'm sure its one mulled over (well, maybe not really) each generation of a hopeful citizenry striving to make heads or tails of our political fiesta. some want the panache to transcend the barbarism of a physical attack. of course, others may just simply want to bash in someone's face, preferably that of a perceived symbol of what is antithetical to the state they presently exist.
perhaps deep inside these two categories mutually envy each other and their capacities. Thing is, while i'm predisposed to one as against another (not telling which) i can see the purpose for both. i suggest, with no science backing it up either, that these actions serve to reduce the objet of their ire and dismantle whatever sense of invincibility they have. if i were forced to be silent in a state where political dissent seems to have a rather pallid face, i would attempt to put some red onto that face by showing that the perp is not all that strong. in..any..way..i. can.
and since i have such a small stature with no public persona and only a deeply cultivated rage against an oppressive government, i could understand the satisfaction of that angry mob when it lobs an egg onto a face of government. i may not do it myself, but i;m glad someone has. in turn, i will do what comes more naturally to me and hope that those who lob projectiles can find satisfaction in it as well.
in the end, whatever they do, or I do, may serve to reduce the stature of these men enough to encourage many more to speak their mind (or speak my mind for me, haha.) perhaps, its really not about shutting everyone up. its may just be about encouraging others to find their voice.
i find myself anxious in these times when dissent (perhaps even all sense of integrity) is under seige in makati. your article makes me realize even more the value of understanding the roles we each play in the lives of fellows. some write. some silence. some fight. some cheat. some throw eggs. some have it smashed in their heads.
xcm (xc_marin@yahoo.com)
Friday, September 22, 2006
pressing women
Whoever designed women’s clothes must have never ironed a day in their life!
As for my buddies out there, when it comes time to teach your teenage kids or your macho pals weeping from a recent episode of being dumped, all you need is a slow lecture on the skills of ironing. There’s no way you can get the wrinkles out of women (and their clothes) without blowing a lot of steam.
That’s all I’m going to say on the matter.
As for my buddies out there, when it comes time to teach your teenage kids or your macho pals weeping from a recent episode of being dumped, all you need is a slow lecture on the skills of ironing. There’s no way you can get the wrinkles out of women (and their clothes) without blowing a lot of steam.
That’s all I’m going to say on the matter.
Friday, September 15, 2006
Almost committing a crime
It was a couple of hours later, while I was in the shower, contemplating the oddness of my predicament, when a thought struck me. I effectively threatened a nice old Mexican lady fixing the room, “Can I give you your extremities later?”
Must have set her back a bit, being in a strange country, with some even stranger asian geek suggesting not only that he would cut her up, but that he would actually return certain body parts at a later time. And he was smiling too, like it was all perfectly natural.
There was no such violence, however. That’s why it was funny.
A couple of days ago, I was comfortably immersed in my hotel desk doing some internet research, when the chambermaid arrived to fix up the room. I booked the room for cleaning just to keep it decent, and we often leave a tip just to make sure we comply with the social mores of this new cultural environment. This day though I had all of five dollars on my pocket and would hardly be happy if I had to toss it all away as gratuity.
So, here I was seated on the desk as the Mexican lady started doing her stuff…fixing the sheets, cleaning the bath, this and that, you know, hotel stuff. All this time I wanted to ask if it was ok to give her the tip later that afternoon as I did not have enough change. But she no habla ingles so I was screwed.
Aha, my mac, this precious little thing, had a translation widget! I was smiling, smug, as I decided to type my question and let the nice lady read it. Impress her with the nuances of modern technology. Shrink the world and bind cultures! This was world peace stuff. I translated “can I give you your tip later?” and she laughed a little. I was beaming with pride. She can only have been awed.
Ok, at the time it happened I was fairly self-absorbed and impressed with my own genius that I never realized I could have it all wrong. This was a mac, after all, and I was a foreign lawyer full of techie panache. I could not be wrong. Ever.
I was glad though that as she didn’t scream out of the room, arms flailing, demanding justice. As she stepped out of the room that day, she was nice enough to tell me, in deep Spanish dubbed with signs, that I probably meant “proponidad” as a translation for gratuity. Instead of "extremidad" for tip. I guess the mac just thought I was the godfather or something. Or a debonair member of the sputnik gang.
Must have set her back a bit, being in a strange country, with some even stranger asian geek suggesting not only that he would cut her up, but that he would actually return certain body parts at a later time. And he was smiling too, like it was all perfectly natural.
There was no such violence, however. That’s why it was funny.
A couple of days ago, I was comfortably immersed in my hotel desk doing some internet research, when the chambermaid arrived to fix up the room. I booked the room for cleaning just to keep it decent, and we often leave a tip just to make sure we comply with the social mores of this new cultural environment. This day though I had all of five dollars on my pocket and would hardly be happy if I had to toss it all away as gratuity.
So, here I was seated on the desk as the Mexican lady started doing her stuff…fixing the sheets, cleaning the bath, this and that, you know, hotel stuff. All this time I wanted to ask if it was ok to give her the tip later that afternoon as I did not have enough change. But she no habla ingles so I was screwed.
Aha, my mac, this precious little thing, had a translation widget! I was smiling, smug, as I decided to type my question and let the nice lady read it. Impress her with the nuances of modern technology. Shrink the world and bind cultures! This was world peace stuff. I translated “can I give you your tip later?” and she laughed a little. I was beaming with pride. She can only have been awed.
Ok, at the time it happened I was fairly self-absorbed and impressed with my own genius that I never realized I could have it all wrong. This was a mac, after all, and I was a foreign lawyer full of techie panache. I could not be wrong. Ever.
I was glad though that as she didn’t scream out of the room, arms flailing, demanding justice. As she stepped out of the room that day, she was nice enough to tell me, in deep Spanish dubbed with signs, that I probably meant “proponidad” as a translation for gratuity. Instead of "extremidad" for tip. I guess the mac just thought I was the godfather or something. Or a debonair member of the sputnik gang.
Warming up
So i've spent a couple of weeks now in this new town. Alien landscape. The mountains are too near. And clear. The sunlight bright. The rains forgotten. And the air breathable. There's a nippy attitude to the air that makes one feel alive. The same one that kills your skin. I actually understood that queer eye guy who does the facial moisturizer bit. Eoww, but...better than cracked sore skin. That's the actual irony of this whole experience so far. Its all a mix good and bad, but not in the food processor kind of way that something good always comes out of it. Rather, its the type that makes one have to choose between strongly developed good habits, and appreciating the new found strong sense of NEED; where you choose wrong and you die.
After all, i really like the nippy air and the innate sense of order in the lives of these US people, among other things here (blonde hair and pale skin is overrated by the way), but as one steps off the airport one can immediately discern that much of the filipino lifestyle is quite charmiing. That child's play mode we approach our life and crimes seem quite inviting now, though it hardly jibes with our notion of the american dream. Maybe its because i'm a visitor here. And i cant do as i please. Because i dont know the rules. And i cant break them.
I like the fact that in the Pinas we dont take life too seriously for the most part and that we can mock anything that comes our way. Here, everything has to be registered, certified, the rules seem unflinching, with no margin for human variety. It actually scares me. Plus the penalties are in dollars and thats way more than i can afford.
But there's a piece of the phil i went to just a few weeks back. Theres a jollibee there and a filipino store. Quite a ways from the American highway is a corner of glendale where the grocery is more eunilaine than ralph's. Dust and all. Of course, they have sinfully sized produce and only approximates the Philippine taste. But it is comforting in its crazed messiness and lively hustle and bustle. With sacks of what-not randomly set everywhere, it seems. It really cant compare to the cavernously neat and orderly supermarkets everywhere else here that lacks in crowds and lines and dirt. But its lack of people, to be honest, we could describe as nilalangaw.
Its good here. But its not that warm.
After all, i really like the nippy air and the innate sense of order in the lives of these US people, among other things here (blonde hair and pale skin is overrated by the way), but as one steps off the airport one can immediately discern that much of the filipino lifestyle is quite charmiing. That child's play mode we approach our life and crimes seem quite inviting now, though it hardly jibes with our notion of the american dream. Maybe its because i'm a visitor here. And i cant do as i please. Because i dont know the rules. And i cant break them.
I like the fact that in the Pinas we dont take life too seriously for the most part and that we can mock anything that comes our way. Here, everything has to be registered, certified, the rules seem unflinching, with no margin for human variety. It actually scares me. Plus the penalties are in dollars and thats way more than i can afford.
But there's a piece of the phil i went to just a few weeks back. Theres a jollibee there and a filipino store. Quite a ways from the American highway is a corner of glendale where the grocery is more eunilaine than ralph's. Dust and all. Of course, they have sinfully sized produce and only approximates the Philippine taste. But it is comforting in its crazed messiness and lively hustle and bustle. With sacks of what-not randomly set everywhere, it seems. It really cant compare to the cavernously neat and orderly supermarkets everywhere else here that lacks in crowds and lines and dirt. But its lack of people, to be honest, we could describe as nilalangaw.
Its good here. But its not that warm.
So im stuck here in the davao airport
So im stuck here in the davao airport. The flight that brings us to the rest of our lives has not arrived just yet, and so we stew on our partings just a little while longer. Which is quite unbearable, to be honest. At the same time affirming.
The hollowness in the chest kinda yawns just a bit more. I can only imagine how cecille must feel since she is far more the better liked. The volume of friends reminding her of past gimmicks and missing future ones can only extend her longing and make her wonder if all this is worth it. She does manage to keep a central role in the affairs and memories of her friends, after all, and thus making parting more difficult. The stalling of the fun life she will leave behind will be felt, I’m sure, as will the lack of a crowd often seen around her laughing, rumor mongering, or otherwise engged in some gadawful scandalous behavior. These days, the tension can very often be relieved only by the constant hugging and embrace between relatives and friends...with the gentle roll of tears.
Girls...
I must admit to my own mushiness, however, and i do drop tears quite easily. But parting with friends like mine are both glorious celebrations as well as secret regrets. My friends are quite rare so i tend to keep the ones i have...and there is never a promise that i will find new ones where I’m going. At the same time, there's a confidence about them that declares we will meet again, or that we will keep in touch, or that they are just ridiculously macho, or that...you know...we're friends so what does it matter if youre here or not. Ultimately, there is always a discreet sense of joy in these times when someone will be going out to somewhere from which new adventures can be made and told. Except genie, who is stuck with a mall job in cubao. :)
I guess all these mixed feelings are the rationale for airport security. It just might be that the world will stop turning if we were to drown in all our filipino method of partings. Or we can lose ourselves to our anxiety and entertain some method of self-destruction...along with someone else. With people these days, one can never really say.
The hollowness in the chest kinda yawns just a bit more. I can only imagine how cecille must feel since she is far more the better liked. The volume of friends reminding her of past gimmicks and missing future ones can only extend her longing and make her wonder if all this is worth it. She does manage to keep a central role in the affairs and memories of her friends, after all, and thus making parting more difficult. The stalling of the fun life she will leave behind will be felt, I’m sure, as will the lack of a crowd often seen around her laughing, rumor mongering, or otherwise engged in some gadawful scandalous behavior. These days, the tension can very often be relieved only by the constant hugging and embrace between relatives and friends...with the gentle roll of tears.
Girls...
I must admit to my own mushiness, however, and i do drop tears quite easily. But parting with friends like mine are both glorious celebrations as well as secret regrets. My friends are quite rare so i tend to keep the ones i have...and there is never a promise that i will find new ones where I’m going. At the same time, there's a confidence about them that declares we will meet again, or that we will keep in touch, or that they are just ridiculously macho, or that...you know...we're friends so what does it matter if youre here or not. Ultimately, there is always a discreet sense of joy in these times when someone will be going out to somewhere from which new adventures can be made and told. Except genie, who is stuck with a mall job in cubao. :)
I guess all these mixed feelings are the rationale for airport security. It just might be that the world will stop turning if we were to drown in all our filipino method of partings. Or we can lose ourselves to our anxiety and entertain some method of self-destruction...along with someone else. With people these days, one can never really say.
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