Backtrack

I'm posting an old song from my high school days - a song which we used almost exclusively for recollections/retreats. It's a singer's song, as well, which makes it one of my favorites --- it is both a devotion and a means for catharsis.

It's my proverbial flower for the people who perished in the events leading up to, during, and after 9/11. It isn't much, but I do hope the Lord watches over them just as He is watching over you and me.

And in the meantime, for those whom we love, let us pray that we have the strength to watch over them the best way we can.

WE ARE THE REASON
(David Meece)

As little children we would dream on Christmas morn
Of all the gifts and toys we knew we'd find
But we never realized a baby born one blessed night
Gave us the greatest gift of our life

We were the reason that He gave His life
We were the reason that He suffered and died
To a world that was lost He gave all He could give
To show us the reason to live

As the years went by we learned more about gifts
And giving of ourselves and what that means
On a dark and cloudy day a man hung dying in the rain
Because of love, because of love
And...

We were the reason that He gave His life
We were the reason that He suffered and died
To a world that was lost He gave all He could give
To show us the reason to live

I finally found the reason for living
It's in giving every part of my heart to Him
In all that I do, every word that I say
I'll be giving my all just for him, for Him

And we are the reason that He gave His life
We are the reason that He suffered and died
To a world that was lost He gave all He could give
To show us the reason to live
He is my reason to live. . .

Unforgettable Song Trip

Since we are not exactly in a cultural oasis, once upon a while we get an idea of how we are deprived of the things others take for granted back home. Take, for instance, the Judd Apatow production "Forgetting Sarah Marshall" written and starring newcomer Jason Segel and directed by Nicholas Stoller.

Now, it's not Shakespeare, or Scorsese, but the movie doesn't pretend to be. In fact, it's such a straightforward tale that guys can easily relate to it. It's actually a romance tale told from the male perspective. Cool!

Jason Segel should have a career somewhere in comedy, judging from this movie. He still has potential to be like Randy Newman. His songwriting is clever, the lyrics are spot-on. In "Inside of You," sung by the character Aldous Snow (played by Russell Brand), the double meanigs are really funny, and the song is very easy to follow. I've been singing it for quite some time, pushing the Ting Tings aside (and besides, I won't be stuck singing a girl's song forever).

INSIDE OF YOU
(Jason Segel, Peter Salett, Lyle Workman)
(Russell Brand - "Forgetting Sarah Marshall")

Oh these ancient skies
I've had these wandering eyes
but you took me by surprise
when you let me inside of you
Inside of you

Inside of you
There's got to be
Some part of me
Inside of you

Inside of you, I could cross this desert plain
Inside of you, I can hear you scream my name
Inside of you, while the stars unfold
I've crossed me heart and I've crossed the world
And I need you here and I need to be
Inside of you

Now the flowers bloom
I feel you creep into my room
And if this should be our tune
I'll die here inside of you

And the world explodes
I've never been down this road
Teach me how to glow
While I'm moving
Inside of you

Inside of you, the restless find their dreams
Inside of you, this king has found his queen
Inside of you, all the stars unfold
I've crossed me heart and I've crossed the world
And I need you here and I need to be
Inside of you

Inside of you
Bay blue
So say it's you
To thoughts untrue
Who I woo
It's you I woo

Through and through
And through and through
There's so much more than just a screw
Inside of you

And I was blizzard blind
Felt like I've lost me mind
But you've treated me so kind
I don't know what to do.

Pooped-Up from Pune

It's been two days since I've arrived from Pune where I spent six days on business trip.

Do I have anything to report? Do I?

Pune is about 160 kilometers southeast of megalopolis that is called Mumbai. Unlike my first trip to India where I read up everything I could about Madras, I had sufficient work-related worries to keep me from preparing for the trip. Besides, from my previous experience in Chennai, any attempt at going for some nightlife would prove to be either disappointing or unsavory (I'd choose the former over the latter, but sometimes just for the heck of it...).

The Pune airport is still very much provincial. It at once reminds me of Cagayan de Oro, another industrial city nestled in hilly/mountainous terrain. The temperature is likewise comparable to CDO.

That's where all comparisons cease.

Historical Pune is all over the place - dating from the rule of the Marathi overlords who held sway over this area until Westerners came onto the scene. Sadly, I didn't have all the time to visit the sites and the work much too much to allow for sightseeing --- I would rather have curled up on my bed, doing some reading or following on the Democratic National Convention (side note: what a broadside Barack Obama's team fired that night. You've got to give it to the Democrats - the candidate they chose has moxie.)

Our factory is several kilometers away from the city proper, far enough to be zoned into an industrial area. The head office was somewhere in the suburbs as well, apart from Pune central which is built along the banks of the Mula-Mutha rivers (known for its diverse flora and fauna - hmmm... I wonder how these can survive in industrial goop).

It is said that Pune people are among the best in terms of technical education because of the many schools built within the city area. The military has its National Defence Academy here (which I saw only from a distance) while there are a number of government and private educational institutions based in the city as well (I saw only one, Symbiosis University).

I distinctly asked for a guest house instead of staying at a hotel - a hotel has too many distractions, and besides from being expensive, would not offer too much added value - at least to me. The place they selected was an upscale housing development located near our office which reminds me a lot of developments in Singapore or Hong Kong but the flats are much bigger (similar to standard Arabic configurations) and the buildings are not as tall. My only (and biggest) gripe with the place was that there was no Internet connection in the evenings, which annoyed me to no end. I therefore had to track but my Dammam work and my current work in India at the same time.

My colleague and I would have breakfast in the guest house (which came free) while lunches were at the office. Now there's an experience - personally I have nothing against Indian food. It's just that --- well, sometimes, you just don't know what you're eating. To be fair, the food at the office, which was vegetarian, was tasty and they served plentiful amounts. The tea boys were always around to offer you hot tea or coffee and the office environment, at least by Dammam standards, was palatial, Epicurean even.

(That shows how much we could do to liven up our work environment.)

I'd leave out the rest of my stay (ummm, confidentiality, confidentiality!) but I would say that the visit was not altogether satisfying (some things were left unresolved) but I left with a feeling of optimism (excellent potential for growth within India for our company).

I thoroughly hate Indian airports. I mean it, yes, thoroughly. If traveling in the Philippines is bad, in India it is worse. In some cases, I am told, it is more expensive to travel from one point in India to another than it is to travel from Saudi Arabia to Mumbai. The availability of air connections is a problem, and the trains or buses don't offer the same level of convenience.

It took me three hours just to check in my bag through two x-ray machines, get myself frisked several times, all the while pushing away people who always wanted to get one place up (some idiot even used the airport police as his alibi, ano ka, ulol? Lokohin mo lelong mong mabaho!)

On the flight back I was touched by the discipline of my fellow passenger (German or Austrian by his first name, Christoph) who took copious notes of his travels (in long hand, no less). I wish I had the energy or the desire to do the same again, at least during that trip. But I was tired. Dead-tired.

I also missed that wonderful flight attendant who made my Dammam to Mumbai flight memorable. I don't know your name, miss, but you've got one more admirer, at least.

The worst part was that we were at least thirty minutes late landing in Bahrain and my connecting flight to Dammam only had a forty-five minute window. The immigration desk was a half-nightmare, and I literally did myself two Roadrunner cartoons running from one end of the airport to the other (How did they add so many gates in just the four months since I last traveled here? And the new gates didn't have tubes, so the bus it is for you...)

I was dripping with sweat and had no semblance of poise when I got to the bus --- but at least I ran into one of my colleagues coming from vacation back home and we had a blast. One of the highlights of this trip was the smarmy way one of our kababayans was sidling up to him during the bus ride. I guess she was already doing that to him during the trip, only he never noticed ... it would have been great had she been the bomb, but of course, ehem, 'wag na lang, manahimik na lang ako, hehe.

So now I'm back. Ramadan has just started --- one whole month of lovable craziness. Ramadan Kareem!

Passing Through Mumbai

I am posting from Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport in Mumbai, as I wait for the announcement to board my flight to Pune. I'm a few hours short of sleep, since going by Dammam time I am still safely in my bed right now.

The flight coming here was uneventful, the only excitement I got was that my buddy missed the turn going to departures at the Dammam airport and we had to take the scenic route. Travel to Bahrain was a bit light, so I didn't have to jostle other people like I did when I traveled to Chennai. The flight to Mumbai was even less crowded, and I even had the pleasure of chatting it up with one of the cabin crew who was a Filipina. We would have probably chatted longer but her co-workers noticed her noticing me. It's really nice to chat with someone from back home on these travels. She even gave me a 1.5 liter bottle of water as her parting gift since she knew I had a four-hour layover in Mumbai.

Such is the kindness of strangers. I didn't even get her name. Maybe I'll meet her again on the flight back. One can only wish.

Seeing Mumbai from the top, as she awakens in the sunrise ,one is oddly reminded of Manila. While India is an emerging economic powerhouse and Mumbai transforming itself into a global metropolis, the signs are all there of the struggle these people have undergone and are undergoing. Going by shuttle from the international terminal (work still ongoing) to the domestic one (work completed), I watched a parade of shanties along the perimeter of the airport complex.

Much like Manila, Mumbai is a study in contrasts --- burgeoning wealth is trumpeted all over but the hardships of poverty, of overcrowding, of past cruelties sound out a dissonant note. Within this metropolis and its environs more people live and work and eat and love and play than in the entirety of Saudi Arabia.

I know it's not right for me to judge --- the Indian people have their own particular challenges to face in the transformation of their society. Even so, the path of this wealth so flagrantly displayed has been paved with so many poor people trodden underfoot.

Culinary Experiments, 1

I've turned to a little cooking the past few days since I am getting bored of buying too much cooked food. Last night, some of the boys "ambushed" my place (naturally, I invited them) and since I didn't have a lot of time to prepare, I had to make do with the ingredients I had in the house.

Here's my recipe for "INSTANT CARBONARA":

Ingredients

1 kg spaghetti noodles
3 cans tuna flakes in sunflower oil (185g can)
1 big can evaporated milk
250g fresh button mushrooms (or canned if none, drained)
1 medium-sized red bell pepper, diced
1 medium sized green bell pepper, diced
1 large bulb garlic, or at least eight cloves, crushed and diced
1 medium-sized white onion, diced
200g chicken hotdog, sliced into strips
2 tbsps sunflower margarine
Cooking oil
Garlic powder
Salt and pepper to taste, sugar (optional)
Two cheese slices or grated cheese (parmesan cheese preferred)
One egg, slightly beaten

Pasta preparation

The normal ratio for water to pasta is 4 liters to 500 grams, but you can get away with 2:1 if you manage things correctly. For this recipe, I went with 2:1, and added a tablespoon of salt and two tablespoons of oil.

Bring the water to a vigorous boil (together with the salt/oil) before adding all of the pasta that can reasonably fit in the pan. Make sure of all the pasta is submerged and then stir to make sure nothing sticks together. After about 10-12 minutes (max of 15 depending on the brand), remove from heat and drain the pasta through a colander. Wash the pasta quickly with tap water, and then add a little margarine or butter and stir through the cooked noodles. (For this recipe, I put in a little Italian seasoning with the noodles while stirring in the butter).

Sauce preparation

Start your pan on medium heat before putting in the margarine. As soon as it bubbles, saute the garlic lightly before putting in the onions. Cook then to a light brown color before putting in the tuna. You can use Spanish-style tuna if you want extra spice but having plain flavor is better so that you can season to your desired taste. Mix well before adding the bell pepper and the mushrooms. If you are using canned mushrooms, cook the bell peppers well before adding. Add about half a glass of water to the sauce, cover and let simmer for five to seven minutes.

After simmering, add the hotdog strips and the evaporated milk together. If I had a choice I would have had boiled chicken breast instead of the hotdogs, but this is what I had to work with. Season the mixture with salt, pepper, garlic powder, and sugar.

Before removing from heat, stir in the egg and cheese.

Serves 6-8.

Fiddling at the Desk

One of the Damocles' swords in my line of work is that one can get inured to the sums of money being haggled for by employees, being given by managers, and general expectations of raises. One apt comparison would be that of obstetric surgeons who get to look at the birth cavity every single day it deadens their compulsion for sex (or at least breeds some strange or perverted sex behaviors. But I digress...)

Talking about money doesn't mean I have to earn less of it, or appreciate it less. But it ticks me off why some people in our organization have an obsession to make more so much that they follow up on a daily basis (Don't these people have any work to do?) . . .

It also makes me think what exactly is my worth to this organization. Hmm . . . time for some heavy thought. Maybe later.

A fit song would be the solo from "Fiddler on the Roof" featuring the lead character Tevye. I've seen only one version of course, that featuring Chaim Topol and directed by Norman Jewison. And it's a song I could sing too.

If I Were a Rich Man
(Music: Jerry Bock, Lyrics: Sheldon Harnick, Book: Joseph Stein)

Spoken
"Dear God, you made many, many poor people.
I realize, of course, that it's no shame to be poor.
But it's no great honor either!
So, what would have been so terrible if I had a small fortune?"

Sung
If I were a rich man,
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
All day long I'd biddy biddy bum.
If I were a wealthy man.
I wouldn't have to work hard.
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
If I were a biddy biddy rich,
Yidle-diddle-didle-didle man.

I'd build a big tall house with rooms by the dozen,
Right in the middle of the town.
A fine tin roof with real wooden floors below.
There would be one long staircase just going up,
And one even longer coming down,
And one more leading nowhere, just for show.

I'd fill my yard with chicks and turkeys and geese and ducks
For the town to see and hear.
Squawking just as noisily as they can.
And each loud "cheep" and "swaqwk" and "honk" and "quack"
Would land like a trumpet on the ear,
As if to say "Here lives a wealthy man."

If I were a rich man,
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
All day long I'd biddy biddy bum.
If I were a wealthy man.
I wouldn't have to work hard.
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
If I were a biddy biddy rich,
Yidle-diddle-didle-didle man.

I see my wife, my Golde, looking like a rich man's wife
With a proper double-chin.
Supervising meals to her heart's delight.
I see her putting on airs and strutting like a peacock.
Oy, what a happy mood she's in.
Screaming at the servants, day and night.

The most important men in town would come to fawn on me!
They would ask me to advise them,
Like Solomon the Wise.
"If you please, Reb Tevye..."
"Pardon me, Reb Tevye..."
Posing problems that would cross a rabbi's eyes!
And it won't make one bit of difference if i answer right or wrong.
When you're rich, they think you really know!

If I were rich, I'd have the time that I lack
To sit in the synagogue and pray.
And maybe have a seat by the Eastern wall.
And I'd discuss the holy books with the learned men, several hours every day.
That would be the sweetest thing of all.

If I were a rich man,
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
All day long I'd biddy biddy bum.
If I were a wealthy man.
I wouldn't have to work hard.
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
Lord who made the lion and the lamb,
You decreed I should be what I am.
Would it spoil some vast eternal plan?
If I were a wealthy man.

"They Call Me Stacey!"

Watch "That's Not My Name" on YouTube - I'm looking for a copy that will allow me to embed in it my blog post, but this one doesn't allow it.

A little taste of punk and indie pop, and somewhat of a throwback to the days of Toni Basil and "Mickey" (a trite song, but something guaranteed to get you twiddling your fingers at least) - I just discovered the Ting Tings just a while back.

Now, I'm not into my music critic mode so I'll allow myself a few indulgences here. The Ting Tings' sound has elements of old and new, with a lot of cheekiness thrown in. They're DIY-ers with loads of big ideas, but not too over-produced so their songs come out fresh instead of manufactured from the hit-making factories of the music industry.

Maybe they'll be forgotten in a few years, but this particular hook will always wake up old memories somewhere, sometime.

In Search of the Green

Following the Euro

Just an interesting thing to nitpick on --- basketball players crossing over to Europe instead of the other way around.

Signs of the times --- Americans are used to smirk over their dominance in the game that they created, but they have not won a world-class basketball competition since the 2000 Sydney Olympics. They were a poor sixth at the World Basketball Championship in 2002 (which earned Paul Pierce and Baron Davis their "selfish" labels), third at the Olympics in 2004 (a team with a bickering Larry Brown underplaying his best young stars), and again third at the Worlds in 2006 (a better-prepared team but without an alpha dog).

It's not the end yet of American basketball --- the players that have left, while almost-stars in their own right, are not the players that the leagues heavily pushes and covets, and that seven of these nine players were formerly based in Europe already. And who knows, with an established pecking order and more commitment to hustle on defense, the 2008 Olympics may just be a stroll in the park for the U.S. team.

But the stage has been set that basketball is more of a global product and talent from all places can, with the proper coaching and opportunities, rise to the top. With economic power now swaying East to Europe and further East to China, Russia and India, the Americans can no longer pay top dollar anymore.

It's also a sign of the hard times the dollar has taken in the changing global economy. In search of the green denied to them, people will always seek better places where they feel more wanted.

Now imagine if LeBron and Kobe were to move...

Waning Days

Russian author Alexander Solzhenitsyn dies at 89 - Yahoo! News

I have to admit it --- I was once enamored with the concept of Communism and investing in the people's welfare.

I still believe we have to invest in the people's welfare, but at the risk of being called a revisionist and sell-out, I believe that Communism is not the answer.

People are created equal in that they represent one number in a statistical chain. Otherwise, they are fundamentally different. Treating them the same way in a mass-produced environment only means one course: stultification and death of individual initiative. We have to realize there is no egalitarian utopia, if so we must acknolwedge that only equality of opportunity is the one thing we can provide.

I read Solzhenitsyn's works when I was very impressionable (I was 12 and had nothing to do since I hated physical activity) and today his account of Stalinist repression remains imprinted on my mind. While his rise to world fame had more to do with Khruschev doing a demolition job against his predecessor Stalin, there is no doubt that he communicated an elemental truth about the human spirit: it cannot be broken by the environment around it, but only by the person who holds it.

However, much like the heroes who struggled against dictatorship, his aura was more powerful only in opposition to repression. This is a maxim that revolutionaries must heed --- the dialectic must be preserved in order to have a stronger whole. In other words, there are no true victories and resolutions, only true passions.

These are waning days indeed, of the glories and the infamies of the 20th century. The generation that waged two wars to define the right of all peoples to self-determination is now exiting the world stage. And now, we their pampered successors, weaned on cheap drugs, television, free love, and a sense of entitlement, have much to do to make this world a better place.

The Baby Boomers had their chance and squandered it. I hope Gen X doesn't make the same mistake.

Day 213: Total Eclipse (of the Heart)

Total Solar Eclipse in Mongolia

No, I'm not developing a sudden fascination with all things related to space. It is rather unfortunate that this particular eclipse's penumbra is further north - it would have just have driven some of the orthodoxy over here bonkers just because a regular astronomical occurrence would blot out the daylight for a few hours.

I did post about Saturn once, but outer space, for all its charms, has ceased to fascinate me as much as inner space.

Congratulations to me for finishing July in one piece and coming off with a prolific (for me, at least) number of posts up to now. I find the fifteen or so minutes I use to post these tidbits help me to decompress my brain and focus more easily on the tasks I have at hand. I'm still way behind with so many of my assignments but it just isn't as bad as it should feel --- my work still hasn't approached Sisyphean proportions, and there are ways to keep things on an even keel. There's the magic word: delegate!

This is Day 213 of this year. It has been one of the fastest years in my life --- even with all of my dramas, things just haven't managed to slow down.

Yesterday, one of my buddies here punched his ticket for a well-deserved (and oft-delayed) vacation back home. I hope he comes back (I have every reason to believe that he will, but still...), else he will just about help sink me into the debt trap. It would have been nice if his management had realized his disenchantment earlier and sent him home as soon his vacation was due. The man left home just as his wife was about to deliver his first child and they couldn't give him a break? Incidentally, that baby turns two in a few months. Almost two years. I'm glad, just for the burden of separation, that I am not in his shoes.

For the heart that yearns for the time of reunion is the heart that is in the darkness of an eclipse, seeking the light but still suffering in the dark.

In many ways I wish I were, too. Tomorrow is my youngest nephew's first birthday. I left him off this space when he was born --- the memories of leaving Manila were still fresh at that time --- but since my last time back home, I knew that it would be impossible not to miss him. He is not my child, but he is special to me not only because he lives under the same roof as I do (back home), but because of the special circumstances surrounding his coming-to-be. They say that the child most special to you is the one that needs you the most.

Now that I am in the age of parenthood (though not a parent myself), I believe this to be true. The special ones are the ones who keep on stumbling but keep on getting up, the ones who hurt you more because they don't seem to return your love, the ones over whom you spend sleepless nights, the ones who have the label "No Return on Investment" but on whom you keep pouring your love.

I am privileged to be in the position of giving to my family. Sure, it gets to be a drag sometimes, but I am thankful that I am in this position. I expand, and the heart of provenance expands with me, because hard as it is for me to learn, generosity does not come because you have much, but that you have given your all and still feel it is not enough. I didn't ask for this, but am blessed to have been served this life.

Seven months gone and just two off after my last jaunt back home. My heart can't wait to be home --- in fact, it always IS there. These are the days when one wishes burdens are lighter, but in some way, thankful that they are there. Like racing cars needing downforce, we do much better with some amount of responsibility. We stay true to ourselves and find ourselves more deeply rooted in our lives.

I've been lacking in some inspiration and this insight cannot come at a more opportune time. And there is, of course, the possibility of meeting someone out there. I haven't thrown in the towel yet, and while so many would say I don't deserve it, someone in this world has a place in her heart where I can find solace and bountiful silence, home for all intents and purposes, wherever we may be, with the light of love that eclipses all loneliness and hurt.

Spinning Hypocrisies

Doha Development Round talks collapse

After seven years of moving forward and then back-tracking, what began as a sense of euphoria now just ended us as an obscenity ended quickly in the night. Or, if you prefer less melodrama, so many high hopes have been defeated by the realities of world trade.

The Doha declaration said rather boldly:

International trade can play a major role in the promotion of economic development and the alleviation of poverty. We recognize the need for all our peoples to benefit from the increased opportunities and welfare gains that the multilateral trading system generates. The majority of WTO Members are developing countries. We seek to place their needs and interests at the heart of the Work Programme adopted in this Declaration.

Stripped of all its drama, essentially what has happened is that all this rush for "free trade" fails to admit that trade isn't really free. Not while there's a stamp on our products that says "Made in ..."

These talks, at least for this so-called Development Round, have been going on for seven years, and every now and then something-or-other brings up a "challenge" to the viability of these talks. The melodrama about "last chances" is dragging out even longer than your average soap opera. The biggest joke on all of these talks that even as multilateralism has been represented through the 153-member World Trade Organization, countries are racing to ink bilateral trade agreements that either negate or render the WTO useless.

The truth is, business and trade still spin some hypocrisies, whether in the guise of free trade or smaller government. " Despite all the platitudes, no one has gone far enough.

As long as the spirit of nationalism and "people's welfare" take precedence, there will be no such thing as free --- and therefore no such thing as fair --- trade. The European Union, the U.S. and Canada have basically made life harder for foreign famrmers to complete by granting hefty subsidies --- billions of dollars' (or euros') worth. Likewise, the standards for the entry of foreign food products, the insistence on a archaic intellectual property system, and some other non-tariff barriers have all made it impossible for imports to survive in their marketplace.

It's the same old neocolonial line --- open your countries so we can sell to you, but let's take a raincheck on whether you can sell to us. They would rather protect the welfare of a few millions of their own famers than allow the rest of the farmers of the world have better lives. So it comes at no surprise that developed countries keep on pushing to accelerate the reduction of tariffs for manufactured goods while doing little (or nothing) in removing subsidies on farm products or allowing the freedom of movement of natural persons.

Subsidies have made the export of farm products from the developed to the developing countries an exercise in dumping, and the only chip that developing countries have --- cheap labor --- is continually disregarded. There is no reason why well-trained lawyers, doctors, engineers, and other professionals shouldn't find work anywhere in the world so long as they are competent to do the work. And this doesn't mind finding a veteran banker frying donuts at a supermarket after getting his immigrant visa, or encountering a seasoned health professional hauling vegetables from the truck to the local green grocer.

These talks are all hot air to perpetuate the system of domination of the old order. Free trade and minimal government are grand maxims, but its barrels must be able to point to the right way. It is no wonder that the emerging economies of the world --- Brazil, India, China, the African states and the Tigers of Southeast Asia --- have done ther best to sandbag the progress of tariff reduction. Because in doing so, they protect their own producers and industrialists (most likely their own local hegemonists and oligarchs) squeeze out maximum profits.

Where does that leave the ordinary consumer? In dire straits indeed.

The language of the Declaration would lead one to believe that there is a new hope for the world - especially since the talks came at the heels of the disruptions in Seattle and what's more, the fateful events of 9/11. It's all a grand notion --- the altruism of rich countries helping poor countries to grow. But in the running of affairs, be it in business or government, would reveal that there is no such thing. As mentioned by one columnist:

No one wants to be completely unilateral; if they did, we wouldn’t need these talks at all. What kind of altruist expects something in return?

So what use language then? Ah, there's the rub --- it ensures negotiators and diplomats are firmly ensconced in their lofty positions, that lobbyists will continue to curry favor, that the barons of business and the leaders of government keep on doing their waltz. Meantime, it's business as usual at the top.

As for the rest of the bottom of the pyramid, we warm up to the platitudes (alas for hope) while our stomachs remain empty.

Cool Goings-On

Great movie spoof - ripping off everybody like Wesley Snipes/Woody Harrelson (mainly), Gene Wilder/Richard Pryor and to some degree, Arnold Schwarzenegger/Danny de Vito.

And if you don't even know Baron and Steve from their NBA reps, Steve does a really goofy Michael Jackson impersonation.

Wonder how the real movie would turn out.

(Edit: Looks like the verdict on the real movie starring Will Ferrell and John C. Reilly shows that satire, at least in its intentions, is always way cooler than the real thing.)

Insult to Injury

Los Angeles bans new fast food joints in poor areas

Now that ain't right.

Obese people have the right to kill themselves - if such a thing can be countenanced - just to enjoy food. What else can we have in this cruel, unforgiving, lonely (sniff! sniff!) world?

Take away the health care, take away the dole, squeeze people out of the job market, kick them out of their low-paying jobs, charge more taxes . . . but don't away their right to eat what they want, when they want, however they want.

Or - if they really care - the government can subsidize healthier groceries and stores. But take away the right to eat all that greasy food? Hell, no!

We want our burgers!
We want our fries!
We want our milkshakes!
We want our pies!

We want our pizzas!
We want our beer!
We want our chicken wings!
More fat? No fear!

Playing the Real

My friend has actually convinced one of her acquaintances to read my blog so that the latter can have an idea who I am. And yes, it's an attempt to set the two of us up.

As I write this, I've actually been suckering myself into coming up with a killer blog post --- coming up with draft titles such as "Elemental" or pulling out some of the (pig) Latin I had managed to scrounge up during all of these years of reading, or - better yet - of mastering the art of the Internet search engine.

Oh yes, I wanted to impress. In this day and age where "metrosexual" has become the vogue term instead of "faggy" some form of intellectual wattage does count. Or at least until such arts of mental prestidigitation have opened the door for men to wangle their way into women's hearts (read: lying!) and thus seal the deal. Then a guy can throw all culture and the high principles, settle into a routine of fast moves and near date-rapes, and if he stays charming until this point, scores, literally, before moving on and leaving the poor girl in emotional shambles and self-loathing.

(You see, I've done this before!)

(No, it was done to me!)

(Another double-take: now you're pulling everybody's leg)

(Smug feeling - at least it keeps them reading! LOL!)

But I've been in this relationship business as a player or a bystander too long that it's nearly impossible to quantify or qualify what gets people into a relationship and what keeps them there. (Or in HR terms, to attract, retain, and motivate, hehe. Ugh!)

One school of thought says that all form of intellect is flushed down the toilet when the paragon of a girl's dreams makes his appearance --- whether you are a fan of Vin Diesel, Marilyn Manson (on the edge), David Duchovny, Edward Norton (semi-geeky), Tom Cruise, Brad Pitt (pretty boys), or Sean Connery (old guys, father figure). Or whatever combo you can come up with, from Brandon Routh to Benicio del Toro or George Clooney. Even, God forbid, Keanu Reeves!

The other school of thought says that sweeping the girl off her feet is all well and good, but it won't do much if you don't have much fuel in the tank to keep her engaged -- whether it's sex, good times, or most importantly, MONEY, or some combination of two or all.

Still another school of thought says that there's a science to all of this, so there are rules and principles and all kinds of self-motivational regalia. Better yet to call this science more of a business so that all these "experts" can fleece our money from us.

Finally, those among us who are still believers say that it won't work until Destiny or Providence (take your pick) --- simply the Hand of God for most --- gets involved.

Or take the nihilist view and you can say love doesn't matter, we are just driven by animal instinct. Propagate until we die.

Me? Honestly I don't know. While I don't have a plethora of opportunities, much less choices, there's one thing I do know --- I can't fake it.

I can't fake being geeky or perverse or sentimental or kooky or child-like or profound or absent-minded or creative or lazy or inconsistent.

I can't fake being fickle in my infatuations, but I can't fake being loyal or true when I do fall in love. Every line and every scar of those times --- yes, I keep them in my heart still. I am free of them, but they do leave their marks . . .

I can't fake treating a girl-for-rent the same way I would a "potential" girl of my dreams, not because they are of the same quality, but because it isn't me to treat a woman in a cavalier fashion. Yet there's another side to this --- I could, just like that, be as cruel as I can be kind.

Call it programming. Call it whatever.

Oh, yes I'm impossible. But that's how I play, even if this whole love thing isn't a game. I'm down on the canvas, struggling against the ten-count, and still I try to get up. If it's worth it, taking a beating can't be all that bad.

Randomize My Hits

I am taking this meme from my friend Nikki’s blog. Something I haven't done lately - which is to jack some other person's ideas.

In high school, I never thought about joining a band or forming a band, but later on when I found out I could write saccharine stuff (find one example in the blog - here) I had some aspirations to form a vocal group.

(Deep sigh)

This seemed fun, so I hope you would follow along...

1. Go here.
The first random Wikipedia article you get is the name of your band.

2. Go here.
The last four words of the very last quote of the page is the title of your first album.

3. Go here.
Third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.

4. Go here.
The first ten links you end up in (minus the .coms) are your 10 song titles.

Here are my results:

Name of Band: 1927 Grand Prix Season

Album Title: An Adventure in Forgiveness

Album Cover: Click here.

Song Titles:

Il Manifesto
Absis Minas
Massachusetts Conservation - the title is not so exact, so I pulled out the sense of the site.
Screaming Bloody Mess
Meyer Web
VHPA Museum
Morat
HPR Online
Default Milk
Ningyoushi

And since I had to re-click because I got the same link twice:

Il Manifesto (reprise)

The band name isn't so hot, but I have to say the album title is pretty cool, as is the album cover. The titles of the songs are a bit anti-establishment, especially "Il Manifesto" and "Screaming Bloody Mess" while the rest are rather unconventional as well. "Default Milk" is particularly amusing.

Hmmm... this album seems to be as eccentric as I am, hehe.

Girl Fight!

ESPN - Los Angeles vs. Detroit - Recap - July 22, 2008

Yay! Women athletes in a brawl!

Shoot, ang babaw ko.

More Shenanigans

OFW groups nix Pichay's appointment to OWWA

Aba'y bastusan na talaga, ha.

As usual, the kapalmuks in the Arroyo administration are playing up the usual shenanigans --- appointing Prospero Primo (Prospero Segundo, or Cong. Prospero Nograles, is now comfortably ensconced as the Speaker of the House) to either the Subic Bay Metropolitan Authority or the Overseas Workers Welfare Administration.

If in Subic, he could supervise State, ehem, First-Gentleman-sponsored smuggling much more efficiently than it is being done now.

If in OWWA, he could make sure the Administration could siphon off funds like it did in the run-up to the 2004 elections, when PhilHealth forcibly took over the medical contributions of the overseas Filipino workers, with no one the wiser.

This is fatiguing. Coupled with the fact that the moral crusaders have gotten on their high horse about contraception, it is hard to keep the faith that something will happen for the country.

Want to say more, but the brain cells are fried...

Something in the Offing

CNN reviews "The Dark Knight"

Here's the deal: if I get my passport in time I will trot over to Bahrain to do this. BIG IF - if the guys at the Philippine Embassy get my replacement passport shipped back from Manila soon enough, and if our own guys here get my multiple exit/re-entry visa in time as well.

One could wish.

A toast for Heath Ledger, this was his movie, if the previous review and Entertainment Weekly's review are the standards to go by.

Hoping for a big-screen viewing because the spoilsports here really don't appreciate comics-made-into-movies. Sometimes I really wonder why I just don't point a taser into my brain.

Once, If Only

The summers of 1986, 1987, and 1988 were among the most beautiful times of my life, and just like how the fictional author Gordie Lachance tells it in the movie "Stand By Me" (also released during this period), we somehow never recover the innocence and the vitality of our lives just as things were coming to us.

For the geeks out there --- these were the years of Dragonlance, Crisis on Infinite Earths, and multiple re-runs of "Transformers the Movie" while covering up a group viewing of porn. "Highlander" rocked the big screen, and New Wave was gradually being overtaken by Stock Aiken Waterman. Michael Jackson stopped thrilling, and even as "Bad" sold, it was, but for a few cuts, really bad. It was "Miami Vice" and "The Equalizer," "MacGyver" and "Airwolf."

. . . We called them "soirees," or simply, sanctioned meetings of boys and girls who otherwise wouldn't have met. It was hard being smart - and fat - in high school. Teenagers could be so unkind, though never meaning to be. On the other hand, it was so easy being caught up in puppy-love, of spending hours on the phone, composing letters and daydreaming.

School was never a burden, it was actually an escape from the drudgery of home --- but home was always a safe place, where no dark shadows of foreboding would wait. Life was always looking forward to tomorrow though with the hope that today would never end.

They were different times --- and though my life had its brief "renaissance of innocence" from 1993 through 1995, it was never quite the same. I wonder where they are, the girls of my yesteryear, and if ever thought about that obviously-too-big wallflower, and wonder if their memories were ever kind.

In Your Wildest Dreams
(Justin Hayward/The Moody Blues)

Once upon a time
Once when you were mine
I remember skies
Reflected in your eyes
I wonder where you are
I wonder if you
Think about me
Once upon a time
In your wildest dreams

Once the world was new
Our bodies felt the morning dew
That greets the brand new day
We couldn't tear ourselves away
I wonder if you care
I wonder if you still remember
Once upon a time
In your wildest dreams

And when the music plays
And when the worlds are
Touched with sorrow
When the music plays
I hear the sound
I had to follow
Once upon a time

Once beneath the stars
The universe was ours
Love was all we Knew
And all I knew was you
I wonder if you know
I wonder if you
Think about it
Once upon a time
In your wildest dreams

And when the music plays
And when the words are
Touched with sorrow
When the music plays
And when the music plays
I hear the sound
I had to follow
Once upon a time

Once upon a time
Once when you were mine
I remember skies
Mirrored in your eyes
I wonder where you are
I wonder if you
Think about me
Once upon a time
In your wildest dreams

In your wildest dreams
In your wildest dreams

Zero-ing In

Arenas in Manila

Just a shout-out for the good press Gilbert Arenas gave to the Philippines and the Filipinos. I found some bits condescending, but shoot, what does Gil know, he spent his whole life in the States not worrying about some Third World country.

Glad someone says something good and true about what we have already known for a long time.

MAJOR APPLAUSE!

But so sorry, Agent Zero, I still won't cheer for you - you are a good opponent to play against, but I never liked your game (even on NBA 2K8, where your stats are ridiculously padded.)

Nocturnal Emissions

I have to open my trap on this one, even though belatedly. And no, for all those salacious-minded people out there, this isn't one of those sell-out sex revelations to push my blog hits over the top (the horror! What will my mother say? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! As if she even reads stuff from the Internet, she even can't start up a PC. But still.).

In March, I was making a decision on moving out from my erstwhile apartment. It was time --- I stayed in a good place, made friends with a God-fearing family, established some form of stability in my life ---but for some reason something about the whole arrangement was holding me back. I didn't know what it was. And yeah, the fact that I was a slob had a lot to do with it --- I didn't even have any new furniture and I had gotten rid of my TV set and DVD player. I wanted a change --- but the flat I was living in wasn't the one to accommodate it.

My first choice was my officemate's old flat --- he was starting a family of his own and he was leaving his room behind. His flatmates were fellows who were closer to me in interests --- heck, I spent more than enough time in that flat, including the Christmas and New Year holidays, and I sometimes on their (often) seedy couch. The two fellows who would be my flatmates would be a great complement to me.

I thought to myself, with a little re-tiling, a little insect spray, and a change of the bathroom fixtures, ta-da! I would have myself a brand new hang-out. And since the flat was for families, it was a sure babe magnet. Yup, I could use a few more babes in my life. Hmmm, one would actually be enough.

This flat, however, was in a significantly older (read: decaying) building, and despite the fact that I would save money on my monthly rent, I would be putting up a lot of money just to get things fixed.

I was still wavering between moving to this flat before my friend asked me to join him in a family flat in a building right beside this old (ummm, decaying, for effect, natch!) building. I had reservations about joining my buddy, who by all accounts, is an excellent sparring-partner and altogether good guy. He was, however, somewhat of a flake when it came to domestic matters and to handling other things as well. Staying with him and his soon-to-be-wife may not exactly be the best medicine for my nerves. Or to my wallet.

Anyhow, we checked out this flat and I found it exceeded my expectations --- including price. We were thinking of subdividing the living room so that we can accommodate my friend's old classmate who was coming to Saudi Arabia, but I did some further thinking, and said, let's not share with anybody else --- let's keep all of this space to ourselves! That meant, of course, that I was going to pay more rent than in my old flat.

But the place was new, had two bathrooms, a spacious kitchen, a balcony (unusable during the sandstorm period, but otherwise, an asset). So I ponied up the money, bought new furniture, and settled in. It was as good a place as I could think of to relax ---so much so that I almost spent my entire April in it.

Fast forward to my return back from vacation. I had gotten back on track, and though my AC unit got busted (it will get changed in the next two weeks, Insha'allah), I am comfortable.

One day we received a call from our buddies next door. He was steaming mad, I kid you not - over the state of affairs in their flat.

What happened was something out of a gross-out movie.

Our buddy woke up to slush scattered all over the hallway outside his bedroom door. The slush was a mix of green, brown, and yellowish goo. There was a dank odor everywhere. As he made his way to semi-dry areas on their carpet, he opened the bathroom door and found the source of the epidemic --- their toilet overflowed!

Let's pan the camera and focus on all the dribble coming out of the bowl, mixed in with sand, some compressed sewage, and other scree that was regurgitated by their septic pipes. There is a distinct squish of the rubber slippers as the soles make contact with the various solids. Imagine if there is a slight gurgle - a bass note that waxes in a crescendo to a reedy tenor quack. It's a mouthwash express, only the goo being cleaned came out the wrong way...

Now here's the kicker - our other buddy just comes home after a long night's work from the factory where he is currently on night shift. He comes just in time to see his flatmate seething over the morass --- at wit's end and almost close to pulling his hair out --- a virtual Mad Hatter about to snap at anyone and anything, especially the building super.

The other fellow is at a loss. They inspect all the damage and try to contain what they can. But like the proverbial horror movie where the worst is yet to come, and what we have just witnessed is one long horrible foreshadowing, they make their way to his bedroom (cue in the sinister music) and voila!

Goo was seeping out of the cracks in the ceiling. It paid no heed to value or cleanliness, it was not selective in its reach. It was the Mississippi and the Missouri flooding Iowa and the Corn Belt states. It was the cyclone that rocked Myanmar. It was the worst monsoon rains in years that hit Bangladesh. And aptly, this happened just as Typhoon Frank was about to rake the Philippines.

Shit was literally dripping from the ceiling. Okay, think the blood dripping all over when Mickey Rourke bangs Lisa Bonet in "Angel Heart" (side note: hugely entertaining, at that time). Um, let's go a bit further. It was almost as bad as the blood that flooded out the hotel corridors in "The Shining." You get what I mean.

The humor in all of this, after the three of them (yes, they found a third to occupy their vacant berth) had sorted out everything, ripped off their carpets, did their laundry, and getting the building super and his cohorts to stopper up the leaks and mop up the water (short of taking them hostage at gunpoint), here's the thing.

Solids were left behind everywhere. And the carpets were rolled up shawarmas with feces as filling. And here's what the super said, "Hindi namin trabahong linisin yan" (It's not our job to clean up that mess).

Here's another fun fact and perhaps the clincher - had I moved there, the dripping ceiling would have been in my room.

There are small kindnesses and there are kindnesses that make you wonder whether God just swung the bat for you and made that grand slam in the ninth. Or that buzzer-beater that breaks up a tied score. Or a hole-in-one. Or whatever. The Hand of God was definitely involved.

I'm glad I didn't move there. In fact, since this event happened I haven't even visited that flat. In time maybe I'll get to do it, God willing.

I just can't get the image of the drippings from the ceiling out of my head. It tops the gross-out factor of whatever happened in "Alien." Brrrr!!! --- it still gives me the shivers. To that, I just have to grin, thank the stars for my luck, and hold back the guffaws imagining my friends' jaws literally dropping and eyes popping at the deluge surrounding them.

Pasensya na, mga parekoy! Trabaho ko naman ang apihin kayo eh!

Planting New Flags

Villars take over storied Laurel house on Shaw Blvd - INQUIRER.net

Well, so here it is. The Villars have formalized their intentions for the Presidency --- inheriting even the symbols of the old Nacionalista Party.

I really have no major opinion about the good Senator --- who seems to have taken more time posturing than passing bills --- but him as presidential stock? Hmmm, he has to grow on me a little.

The political landscape is clearing as the terminal date of 2010 nears. Mar Roxas, once the administration lapdog in pushing Value-Added Tax, is now, under the guise of pragmatism and the public interest, ripping the Palace over VAT on petroleum products. He, too, is a new flag-bearer, though not falling too far from the tree. Roxas would do his grandfather and namesake, the founder of the original turncoat party (the Liberals), very proud.

On the side, Legarda and de Castro, members of the media (a most popular career track for aspiring politicians, apart from entertainment), are barely masking their interest in the presidential plum, and would be willing to welcome anybody who would make them queen (or king). A good ad: In the Running - for Philippine President. Searching for political patrons. Aspiring kingmakers and queenmakers welcome. Non-billionaires need not apply.

Still, we must not forget the original flag-planter - our dear President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo, who with every new Cabinet and Commission appointment, is laying wreaths --- expensive ones at that ---at the grave of genuine Philippine democracy.

All the black flags are still flapping in the wind. To quote some famous words: "How many flags of death must she plant, before the living rise and put her to grief?"

We Ain't No Racists Hee-ah, Foo'!

Something off the Freakonomics blog.

Which is a way of saying that sounding black dumbs you down. Word!

Back home, Arreneo (Ateneo) accents used to be the ticket to getting hired, though these days with all the accent training of people in call centers, one can't say that sounding sosy would guarantee you're talking with the real deal. That's the price of our continuing hypocrisy.

(Side note: My way of speaking was one of those shibboleths back in those days --- almost everyone thought I came from Ateneo though most of my schooling was in La Salle and then on to the State University).

Anyhow, sounding black means you're down with the 4-1-1, working on your skillz 24/7 but dayumn those skillz won't get you nowhere, brotha.

Yeah that sounds sick and facetious.

Asian boy just ain't got that soul.

Mid-Year Status Report

A long way from my last milepost, so this has to sort of make up for a lot of things I wish I could have said earlier.

In "On Writing," Stephen King's personal memoir of the writing craft, the author professes a distaste for the informal essay --- pieces with topics "What Did I Do Last Summer?" "What Would It Be Like to Have Hitler as a Classmate?" and some other inanities to which people immediately relate. But well, here it is, an informal essay ---

"What if I had decided to write about the lost months of 2008 in my blog?"

March, 2nd half: I finally moved apartments! At the start of the year, I was thinking of improving my physical environment --- I liked my previous flat and even more, I respected my flatmate and leaseholder, but it just wasn't the place for me. I had no public space, and I didn't have enough furniture. In retrospect, maybe I should have invested the money in my old flat and stayed there. But there it was: I needed a change to shake things up.

The new flat is smaller than the old one, though it is in a more strategic area of town and in a somewhat newer building. It costs a little less than the older place, but since there are only two of us sharing the bills, I am paying for a little more.

I had commissioned my own room from the living room space, bought a new bedroom set, a sofa set (without center or side tables though), a dining room set, and for the kitchen - a water heater and a microwave oven. Did I need to spend all this money? Maybe not --- but in the meantime I found the move comforting. I needed to do something for myself again.

April: The less said about this month, the better.

This was one of the worst months of my life. Not so much for me, but I hurt a lot of people and fell below the expectations of others. Because it was all on me. Sure, circumstances and people put me in the hole into which I dropped myself, but in the end, it was all about me.

I'm still healing from this experience. It was one of the reasons I went on vacation earlier than I had planned.

People around me remain a blessing. There is hope for this crazy world yet. And for me too.

May: Vacation time, for the most part.

One of the signs that tell me my life needs another change is that the sameness of my life makes the precious memories of the past seem all the more precious, as if these gems of my life's journey will never be replicated, and that I would be doomed to live this life on this last string.

I don't, couldn't, wouldn't believe this to be true. But I have been dealt this hand - I've gambled some, lost some, still winning for now but wasted so many chances. That's how it is with these things. Even so, all I can do is be the supplicant, down on my knees while my hands are busy grasping at the last flickers of starlight...

But there are no disappointments, no regrets on this vacation. I expected little and got back a lot. I pulled myself together, got myself back into the game. So goes my Year of No Expectations.

So here we are in June and July and I'm back to work, doing again what I do best. I hope I don't get derailed again, but that happens when the engineer needs a healthy shot of Prozac. Or two, maybe.

Just a checklist:

Economic Gains - Fairly good, but not the best.
Personal Growth - Slid back a huge lot, the consequences of which put me in a bind --- there is wisdom somewhere in all this muck, but I have to shovel my way out much harder.
Relationship Front - Still here, hoping. I already had my Big Fix the last few months, but since it ended in a blah-like nada uncertain disappointment, I hope for a little help over here.
Professional Front - The sharp edge has been blunted. Ah, well. It won't be like that forever.

I'm a bit behind in points, but I have stockpiled a lot of assets to make a big splash later in the year, which I should, at least to even the balance.

Mid-year Score: C

The Last Rays

The Last Rays, originally uploaded by Spocker.

PILGRIM'S THEME (Bukas Palad)

Tired of weaving dreams too loose for me to wear
Tired of watching clouds repeat their dance on air
Tired of getting tired of doing what's required
Is life a mere routine in the greater scheme of things

Through with taking roads someone else designed
Through with chasing stars that soon forget to shine
Through with going through one more day - what's new
Does my life still mean a thing in the greater scheme of things

I think I'll follow the voice that calls within
Dance to the silent song it sings
I hope to find my place
So my life can fall in place
I know in time I'll find my place
In the greater scheme of things

Each must go his way, but how can I decide
Which path I should take, who will be my guide
I need some kind of star to lead me somewhere far
To find a higher dream in the greater scheme of things

The road before me bends, I don't know what I'll find
Will I meet a friend or ghosts I left behind
Should I even be surprised that You're with me in disguise
For it's Your hand I have seen in the greater scheme of things

* * *

For Yours is the voice in my deepest dreams
You are the heart, the very heart
Of the greater scheme of things

* * *

Why don't we follow the voice that calls within
Dance to the silent song it sings
One day we'll find our place
For all things fall in place
For all things have a place
In the greater scheme of things.

(Shot at Boracay June 2008 --- the song captures some of my mood and it's very singable as well.)

Pigain Muna ang Pagka-Senti

Tapos na ang bakasyon, tapos na marahil ang maliligayang araw dahil tambak na naman ang trabaho. Tigil muna ang pagiging tamad at batugan. Paganahin mo ang utak mo at kung hindi pupulutin ka sa kangkungan.

Ewan ko ba, siguro dapat kabahan ako dahil ang daming gagawin. Pero hindi. Ikaw pa rin ang naiisip ko.

Ang tanga ko.

Hindi naman siguro totoong pag-ibig ito, dahil wala naman talagang namagitan sa ating dalawa. Higit na makulay pa ang aking mga pantasya, mas hitik pa sa kakiligan ang mga guni-guni ko. Kung saan tayo mamamasyal sa Pilipinas dahil malaya tayong mamasyal at hindi tulad sa Saudi. Kung ano ang iyong suot at kung paanong hahaplusin ng hangin ang iyong buhok, kung ano ang simoy ng hangin dala ang halimuyak ng lupang binasa ng ulan. Kung anong salamangkang dulot ng mga katagang galing sa aking labi. Kung paano tayo aanurin ng damdamin patungo sa ligayang abot ang langit.

Nag-iilusyon talaga ako.

Karapat-dapat lang siguro nung tayo'y magkahiwalay dito na hindi tayo nagkita sa Pilipinas at mali o patay ang binigay mo sa aking numero ng cellphone mo. Tulad ng sinabi ko sa iyo noon, hindi na baleng hindi mo ako iisipin. Hayaan mo na lang akong mangarap.

Sa ilang sandaling tagpo doon sa Pilipinas siguro mayroon na akong natagpuang karapat-dapat para sa akin. Hindi ko alam, at napakaaga pang umasa kung wala naman talaga.

Hindi naman siguro masamang isipin ka at sariwain ang mga sandaling ipinagkaloob sa akin ng Diyos. Sa ngayon, nagpapasalamat pa rin ako sa Kanya na minsa'y nag-krus ang ating mga landas at nabigyan ang kulay ang aking mundo kahit sandali.

Hindi rin naman sagabal sa buhay ko ang mga alaalang ito. 'Yun nga lang, hindi sapat ang inspirasyong ito para sa mga susunod na araw. Kaya ngayon, kailangang pigain ko muna ang nalalabing pagkasenti. Ang sabi nga nila, hindi maaaring dagdagan ng laman ang basong umaapaw na ang tubig.

Sa ngayon, bubuhayin ko ang damdamin ko para makatulog ako ng mahimbing.

Para bukas, nawa'y may bagong inspirasyong dumating.

Para bukas, kung may magtanong sa akin kung aalahanin pa kita, puwede kong saguting diretso at walang kaabog-abog: Hindi na.

(Sana.)

Our Angel

Snickery, originally uploaded by Spocker.

There's this ancient smile
That lights up the lines of his face.
It's a smile without meaning
(Or perhaps, layers of meanings within meanings)
A smile that defies the ages.

The hope that flows from him
Is clear and refreshing with innocence.
It's hope that knows no darkness
(Or maybe, seeks light beyond the corner)
A faith firm and unshaken.

The world unfolds before him
And tomorrow for him does not exist
Today is his moment, and as it goes past
He follows with the joy of the now.

Then time will awaken
And spread before him her sighs
Then the forever that he holds within
Will cease and break into pieces.

There's this boy whose life is God's giving
And life could never be more sweet.
It's the boy who cries affection
(Or maybe, spreads love like he spreads his wings)
And suddenly, my life is complete.

(For my nephew Jeremiah Angelo -- I wasn't there when he was born, and I won't be there on his birthday in August. If it's hard on me, I can't imagine what it is like for his father.)

Isang Pamulat

Sa simula ay nilikha ng Diyos ang mundo
at sinugo niya ang tao upang magsilbing tagapag-kalinga
nang mapanatili ang kagandahan ng kanyang nilikha.

Subali't sa paglipas ng panahon . . . nakalimot ang tao.
Pinabayaan niya ang lupa,
ang kanyang kapwa,
at ang kanyang sarili.

Nalunod siya sa pagkilos ng isang mundong masikip at nagmamadali.
Inabala niya ang kanyang sarili sa kamunduhan.
Nalasing siya sa pangako ng tagumpay
At 'di niya napansin ang kanyang paligid . . .
na mayroong hindi maganda
na may taong hindi makahabol
na may mga taong hindi masaya
na may mga taong hindi malaya . . .
May takot,
at nangungulila.

Sa harap ng kahirapan at pagkukulang
Sapat na ba ang mangakong may liwanag sa isang mundong sakop ng dilim?
Sapat na ba ang sumigaw kung walang nakikinig?
Handa ba tayong imulat ang ating mga mata sa katotohanang
mayroong ngang nangungulila
at naghahanap ng liwanag . . .
Na may mga taong nag-iisa, natatakot, nalulungkot
at naghahanap ng unawa
sa isang mundong madaling makalimot?

Tumigil ka nang sandali . . .
Huwag ka munang magmadali at makipagsiksikan.
Masdan mo ang mga mukhang nasa iyong paligid
At baka mapansin mo . . . na marunong din silang tumawa
at kumanta
at makiramay.
Marunong din silang magtanong
at kumilos. . .
Na baka kailangan lang nila
ay isang gabay,
isang liwanag, na magpakita sa kanila
na sila at maaaring magbigay-liwanag din
hanggang sa ito'y kumalat at dumami

. . .at mawala ang dilim sa mundo.

(An old piece circa 1995, c/o my buddy Robert with some verses from me -- I don't remember which --- for the Peer Counselors of La Salle Lipa High School. In keeping with the recent tragedies in the Philippines and China...sadness wells up in my heart.)

The Times, They Are A-Changin'

Ballmer and Gates bid farewell with tears - Yahoo! News

You know it's the end of an era when your favorite corporate villain (or hero, if your prefer) has ceased to be the most dominant and is now making his way to the sunset.

Do stick around, please.

"Defense Wins Championships"

The Green and White did it again: the Boston Celtics are the 2007-08 NBA Champions!

I must admit, I was a bit skeptical during the start of the season when GM Danny Ainge swung two megadeals that netted first Ray Allen and then Kevin Garnett. With a paper-thin bench and two young players starting at point guard and center, the challenge to rise to the top of the East, much more win the championship, seemed daunting.

But these players came together and displayed a passion for defense never seen for a long time. While Pierce was the heart of the team, Garnett was its soul. His intensity, his dedication to the team, his commitment and competitiveness, permeated the entire team and changed its entire team philosophy.

While establishing the season-best regular-season record at 66-16, the Boston Celtics came together and embodied the concept of team defense.

A lot of things --- what I would call "essential accidents" --- had to happen to get the Celts to victory. There was of course, just plain old luck. However, I believe this success is a reflection of the hard work of the basketball players who believed in the team and sacrificed for each other on the court. I wouldn't put my money on the front office, given some of its missteps along the way, but hey, they did get the job done, even if some people allege they got a huge assist from outside the organization along the way.

Success in this team was not an overnight thing. The players, the coaching staff, even the front office made a commitment long ago on how they will succeed, and it all came together wonderfully this season.

And like defense, this commitment is not accomplished simply by relying on skill, but by dedication, passion, and consistency. Sure, on some days the team could be killed for laying off a little, or playing less than its best, and it took big-time scares from upstart Atlanta and one-man army Cleveland to get them to focus.

Defense is discipline. In basketball as in life.

It's hard to comment on all of these things, on the heels of the first major championship of the team I've grown to love the most over the years. Our local equivalent, the PBA, hogged our screens but we did catch a few games now and then. My first idol was Julius Erving and the Philadelphia 76ers, mainly because I liked seeing players dunk. Of course I was about eight or nine then, what did I know?

It took the amazing 1984 season for me to be converted to Larry Bird, Kevin McHale, and Robert Parish. I despised the bonhomie of Magic Johnson even as I admired the passing game of the Lakers. What won me over with the Celtics was the grittiness of the players --- they may not have been the best athletes on the court, but certainly they played with savvy, intensity, and true grit. It took a transcendent effort by Magic Johnson and the Lakers to prevent the repeat in 1985, and by then I was soaking in as much basketball knowledge I could get.

1986 was a banner year for a number of reasons, including the Edsa Revolution and my graduation from grade school, but it was also an unbelievable season for the Celts.

Well, after that championship came the decline and the fall ... it was tough rooting for the Celts after Larry, and then McHale, retired. I detested Rick Pitino and Antoine Walker, though because a fellow named Michael Jordan was beating up on the whole basketball world, everything was just fine.

The post-Pitino years made following the Celts unbearable, and all I could do was keep the faith that the Eastern Conference teams would win the championship.

So now we are here.

It was great that I got to follow the playoffs on television (despite the snafus of our local cable service, Solar Sports came through by showing the Finals on network television), though I had to make do listening on ESPN Internet radio to catch the last three games - Game 4 was on while I was on my layover in Hong Kong, while I had to get up for Games 5 and 6 because the local affiliate here bought the rights to Euro 2008. Schmucks.

So now we are here.

Banner 17 is hanging up in the rafters of the Boston home arena. On to Banner number 18...

New Expression for the Day

Something from Hazel.

New expression: Laughing like a horse on helium. Excellent auditory imagery. Way to go, Zel! (I don't get the inside jokes as much but I bet I could use the hirit sometime. Patok!)

Dapithapon

Dapithapon, originally uploaded by Spocker.

KANLURAN
(Gary Granada)

Nag-aawitan ang mga magsasaka
Nagsasalitan ng tula at kanta
Naghihiyawan ang tagadalampasigan
Nagsasayawan ang mga mangingisda
Ang namamasukan sa mga pagawaan
Naglalabasan at sila'y tuwangtuwa

Palubog na, palubog na
Ang haring araw sa kanluran
Pauwi na, pauwi na
Ang haring lawin sa kanluran

Nagsasayahan ang mga may kapansanan
Kababaihan at mga mag-aaral
Ang mga kawal at alagad ng Sambahan
Ang makasining at mga makaagham
Ang mangangalakal, guro at lingkod ng bayan
Nagkakaisa sa iisang inaasam

Palubog na, palubog na...

Pauwi na sa kanila ang haring agila
Ang ibong mandirigma sa kanluran

Sunset at Boracay Beach.

In no way does the song match the mood of this shot, but I'd like to think that in times of old when the workers of the land rest their limbs and call it a day, this is how it would look.

Anyhow, I'm not exactly in an agit mood right now, though there is always that wish that when we find peace, it is not merely the absence of conflict but the achievement of genuine harmony.

The Lord Cometh...

The Lord Cometh..., originally uploaded by Spocker.

One of the stained-glass windows at Jaro Cathedral in Iloilo.

This was a classic point-and-shoot with my sister's digicam. The sun's rays were hurting my eyes, so I just centered the image on the view screen and gave it a pop.

Even after the viewing I wasn't convinced it would look this good. I could have done better by resetting the output to actual prints instead of VGA, so that the resolution would be higher, but as it is, this was a lucky shot. What a blessing.

Lay-overs

I am posting from Hong Kong airport where to-date I have been stuck for three-and-a-half hours, and still counting for another four-plus hours. Beautiful lay-over. Had I known it would have been this entertaining, I would have booked with Emirates.

I wouldn't have taken this early morning flight, for instance. Lining up at the check-in counter at NAIA was at times frustrating on the one hand and funereal as to be almost eerie. One would think we were livestock being led off for slaughter. There is also this other thing that few people would be at their best at four in the morning. I just had about enough time to finish all the formalities just 30 minutes before boarding.

Slipping into Hong Kong was at least welcome, in the beginning.

As usual, this airport is the paragon of efficiency. There is a sense of purpose among the various staff employed here. The duty-free shops are likewise well-organized, so much so one won't feel so much different than waiting in a mall. The snag? So far, no sight nor whiff of Western domination like a Mickey D's. There is a Starbucks, but there is so only so much satisfaction one can derive from sipping over-priced coffee. By my count, I've spent close to five hundred pesos for nothing. Shoot, give me an artery-clogging hamburger with all the fatty goodness thrown in anytime, anywhere.

Otherwise, one can hang out at one of the pay lounges and prepare to be fleeced even more. I might just do that, just for kicks.

Well, is it too much to ask for even an original restaurant or something? That's where I would give points, at the very least.

Is it, really? Is it?

Arrival update: I was wrong. Somewhere in the bowels of the airport was a Burger King and a Popeye's! The downside was, the only reason I found this out was that our flight was delayed. At least we got free food! Yum yum!

Leavetakings

This is the first post I have had, well, in over three months and it is somewhat bizarre to be writing again after so long. Just like something unfinished, this stays unfinished until the whole thing falls into disrepair. It's been so bad that some fellow offered to buy my site for $50. Unbelievable.

This is also the first and last dispatch I am issuing from Manila at the tail end of this year's annual vacation.

As vacations go, I believe I have reached the stage where "ho-hum" is knocking on the door of "dayumn, is it vacation time again?" Considering my state of mind and affairs prior to leaving on this vacation, that kind of transition deserves its own level of understatement. Or irony. Or whatever.

I will always miss home. Always. Even as I go on and make my own way elsewhere in another time zone, this patch of earth is my own building block, my genesis. That said, this year it has been somewhat easier to let go 0f The Things That Were Before. Ah, such semi-tragedy it may seem, but mostly in that some people in my life may have been hurt that I didn't care so much to make time for them during this vacation.

All I can say is, sorry. Really. It has nothing to do with you, it's all about reaching into the heart of me.

There is this FACE that my brother-in-law wore the day he went back to work in Dubai sometime during the middle of May. Here is a man who missed the birth of his son and only experienced true fatherhood when he arrived in March.

I'll remember that face because I'll be wearing it. For their sake, still, as it has been in the beginning, as it shall be in the end (when it does come). One day I hope to wear it for someone else, and for the family I am leaving behind. This vacation did offer possibilities, but it's too early to tell. In its own time. In His time, as well.

So rings the mantra of my life, and my new meditation for the necessary adversities in life: Not for my sake, but for theirs.

Non sibi, sed suis.

Mitts Down, for now

Willing Exile: Acts in Prose

I'm posting a song that has among the best hooks in pop music - "Until I Hear It From You" by the Gin Blossoms from the soundtrack of the 1995 movie "Empire Records." The movie is significant to me because there were two smokin' hot babes in it, namely Liv Tyler and Renee Zellweger (really slutty in this piece, but she fit the bill well, plus Robin Tunney, but no-uh) many of the movie's themes --- asserting one's identity, keeping it real through the music, encapsulated my state of mind.

UNTIL I HEAR IT FROM YOU
Robin Wilson / Jesse Valenzuela / Marshall Crenshaw

I didn't ask
They shouldn't have told me.
At first I laughed, but now
It's sinking in fast
Whatever they've sold me.

Well, baby ---
I don't want to take advice from fools.
I'll just figure everything is cool
Until I hear it from you.(...hear it from you)

It gets hard -
The memory's faded.
Who gets what they say
?It's likely they're just jealous and jaded.

Well, maybe . . .
I don't want to take advice from fools.
I'll just figure everything is cool
Until I hear it from you.(...hear it from you)
Until I hear it from you.(...hear it from you)

I can't let it get me off
Or break up my train of thought.
As far as I know nothing's wrong
Until I hear it from you.

Still thinking about not living without it.
Outside looking in.
Still talking about not stepping around it.

Maybe . . .

I don't want to take advice from fools
I'll just figure everything is cool
Until I hear it from you . . .(. . . hear it from you)
Until I hear it from you . . .(. . . hear it from you)
Until I hear it from you . . .(. . . hear it from you)
Till I hear it from yo-ou

(Won't take advice from fools)
(I'll figure everything is cool.)

I guess for now I don't have to struggle until I hear the news FOR REAL --- apparently the memorandum that I'm a Grade-A jerk making the rounds hasn't gotten to me yet. Oh well, it's not so much as its truth would hurt me, but that I'll start believing it myself.

So mitts down, for now, and if that knockout punch comes... well, OUCH!

Spacey

Saturn's moon Rhea has rings

When a finger points to the moon, the imbecile looks at the finger. --- Chinese proverb

Bruce Lee makes a similar point to his young student in the prologue of his smash movie, "Enter the Dragon." It was this movie, plus Jacky Chan's "Snake in the Eagle's Shadow," both of which I watched together with my father, that really got me hooked with kung fu movies. The occasions were made all the more special because it was just my brother and me watching with him, back in the day when the Recto cinemas were really "theaters" in the old sense of the word and yes (and I'm dating myself here), they were still the places to go to. The vertical signs of the moviehouses blared out their names while the elaborate hand-painted billboards (replicas of the movie posters) provided a splash of color.

Fernando Poe, Jr. was THE movie star, with a strange aura of invincibility, and seeing him 20 feet tall bedecked with six-shooters was a sight to behold. I wonder if this trade, which would be a major piece of Filipino folk art, has survived, now that printed billboards are more or less du jour in Metro Manila.

Old downtown Manila, and those moments with my parents, remain powerful memories. There were those afternoons in Binondo when we would go to the old Ma Mon Luk - the delightful pungent smell is almost inexplicable but it would tell you whether the restaurant was "authentic" or not. Divisoria was a virtual warren of stores where any bargain can be found. I didn't appreciate going there, really (I was, or rather still am, hateful of long waits during shopping.) But it always paid off to pester my mother after she was finished with shopping - there's a quick reward of hopia somewhere or better yet, ice cream.

Speaking of which, the old Magnolia plant along Aurora Boulevard and its diner-style ice cream house was a great place to bring the kids or to have a date. I almost always ordered an "Ernie & Bert" sundae even though as a child I hated strawberry ice cream. I was always Ernie, and my brother was Bert. (I wouldn't even want to think about the rumor of them being gay.) Broadway Centrum was chic, if a bit small, and the sight of trees along Gilmore and Hemady, or even along Ortigas, almost always conveyed a sense of tranquility and stateliness. I rather envied those people who had their homes there -not because their houses were big, mind you, but that they were surrounded by nature.

.... And on and on and on and on. And on.

Seeing the world with wonder is a privilege for children ... one of my pet fascinations then was space (finally, a relation to our link!). I loved everything about space. I had my share of playing with spiders and mucking about in the dirt like other kids, but I would rather have laid down beside the glossy pictures of planets, astronauts or whatnot. I read up on Cassini, Herschel, Galileo, even bothered memorizing the history of Pluto's name (from Percival Lowell, the scientist who predicted its existence).

I even dreamed one day that I would join NASA. Or perhaps find a way to communicate with alien races.

Well, life has progressed in its own fashion, and I am nowhere near being a space agency, much less the scientifice profession - what I loved about science was the romance of discovery but not so much the discipline of achieving the result (my artistic temparament getting the better of me). But there is still that romantic notion that OUT THERE the delicious, unlimited UNKNOWN would defy any sort of explanation of what we have here in daily life, on dreary perfunctory Earth.

Space has a way of humbling one - that one's existence is but a nanoportion of the iota of the infinitesimal space our solar system occupies in the Milky Way, which is again one of many galaxies in the universe. Of which we know.

New discoveries here in what is virtually in our neighborhood in the galaxy serve up a reminder that all is not lost, that perhaps all those hours devoted to telescopes and sending probes to space would give us a clue to the machina, to the design of the symmetry/asymmetry of what we know is life. This one in particular just touched another space within my heart --- that of the younger me still floundering about, enraptured by the wonder of life.

There is of course, the current me, all worn out in some places and finding it convenient to be cynical and jaded, though I have no right to be. Not when I have a decent living, eat three squares (sometimes, ehem, oft-times more) a day, and manage to have a peaceful sleep at night.

Out there, there are answers to questions we yet have to phrase. If we keep that sense of wonder, of hope, of joy in unlimited possibility, maybe there is hope for us after all.

The OFW Wake

ADB doubts RP can sustain economic growth - INQUIRER.net

Some reading just heading into the last remaining hours of our rest days and the weekend for the rest of you out there.

While it has been quoted as to make it as trite as the tritest of cliches can be, the relationship between the size of remittances from outside the Philippines and its economic health cannot be underestimated.

Let's be fair and honest with ourselves. I don't want to go into that oft-quoted survey sometime ago that at least one-fifth of the Filipino population would prefer to leave the country. It's not necessary for me to quote that, when our collective gestalt has been brainwashed that succeeding outside our shores, against foreign standards, is several times better than succeeding on our own.

It's the success of Filipino A performing in award-winning foreign musical that gets our kudos. Never mind if Filipino A's talents pales in comparison with the plethora of talent we have back home. Just no breaks, really.

It's Filipino B graduating with a degree from Harvard University who is being awarded intellectual wattage - an opportunity, I'm sure, made possible by the fact that his parents were able to afford to send him there. I'm not blaming the parents, nor the student, or blaming anyone, but it doesn't mean Filipino B is any better than the graduate from our own homegrown educational institution.

It's the mestiza/mestizo phenotype occupying our notions of physical beauty.

It's the literati ooh-ing and aah-ing over the latest foreign bestseller and not being troubled by the fact that little impact has been made by any major Filipino author either in our local scene or worldwide in the last twenty (or I daresay forty) years. Or that where excellence is recognized, few Filipinos get to appreciate this excellence (that is, if they ever hear the news) - either they can't afford the books, or much worse (and most probably true), they don't have the inclination to read.

It's molding and shaping our physical environment, where we can, to a First World ideal when we haven't built enough classrooms, irrigated enough fields, saved enough forests.

It's promoting a culture of communication through SMS but not developing and nurturing the skills (and the responsibility) that are really needed.

Filipinos want to leave the country to experience foreign sights, earn foreign money, spend dollars and showing off how fun it is to touch snow. That is not an ignoble aspiration. But we needn't build our futures on that belief. Before I left for the Middle East, I looked down at the people who scrambled queueing to become OFWs. Now that I am here, I empathize with those like me who are separated from the land and people we love.

The Philippines is breeding mediocrity, and left in the OFW wake is that we have failed to build our country in the image of what we want it to be.

In the beginning, I was sorry for leaving the Philippines and was ashamed of "selling out." Now, I am just sorry. On the one hand, there are those who have succeeded in making a life for themselves, have helped their families, and are providing opportunties for their children to be potentially better than they are. On the other, there are those who are just relieved to be away from the wreck they see the Philippines to be, and would find every opportunity to disassociate themselves from being Filipinos.

There are those in varying degrees in between.

What is presented before is a quandary - OFWs represent the greatest potential for social and economic change for the country --- both human and financial. But our absentee voting system doesn't work, we don't have any major political figure advancing our agenda, and for all their good intentions, our primary organizations that receive national attention have been hijacked by the radicals, both from the Right and the Left for their own agenda. Try naming any moderate OFW organization and you will be hard-pressed to find one.

What we have essentially, in the Philippines is a factory where workers are created, off to contribute to the success of other countries, while the oligarchs in our country suck out the dollars we indirectly send to them through the local spending of our families. But one day, in their greed, these people will invariably kill the goose that laid the golden eggs.

And where will we be then?

Sun is Good!

Promise of sunshine stirs an Arctic town - International Herald Tribune

Well, yeah, if it were up North. Spring is here in KSA, probably the most pleasant time of year. But after that brief period, sun definitely no good.

After, Again

This is after all, a different context, but here goes...

The big inter-faith rally went down and did SQUAT in promoting the idea that change will be good for the country. Sending the wrong message by putting Cory Aquino and Erap Estrada together. The message just got hijacked by all the politicking...

The Armenians are showing us again how to wake up civil unrest. You go, people! The Israelis and Palestinians have demonstrated just why eugenics may just be a good idea --- if their shooting each other doesn't wipe out each other first....

The second batch of salary increases have been laid to bed and now people are complaining about their increases. It would have been great to lay some smackdown and slap people around for being plain stupid. Pity the fool who messes with me! And then smile for the folks who come in, "Sir, please help me..."

The Oscars have come and gone. Shoot, I miss good movies. I think a part of my heart got ripped out when I started living here. Some parts have grown back, but good movies do play their part...

So I'm moving to a new flat. Canvassing for this and that. Everything has gotten so expensive. After several years of working here, the real value of my earnings has only gone up 20%, but everywhere prices are rising...

Wishing I can get my hands on my own car! Uh-uh, no finances yet.

Wishing for some downtime back in the Philippines.

Wishing I'm no longer in love with her. Well, just wishing. This too, will pass.

And on we go again....