upping the ante

At some point in our life, there comes a time when you will ditch everything right and comfortable to test your mettle and see how far you can go.

It's like standing over the edge of a cliff. While you know it's not safe to take a step forward, you just can't come to terms with the idea of getting left behind. It's that thing, that drive, that itch, that will to be, to know, to go. It's more than just a craving for a different scenery. It's more than just an appetite for adventure. It’s not that juvenile, spur-of-the-moment, to-hell-with-everyone kind of whim that you can easily shrug off when daddy says "no." It's something more powerful—like an overwhelming sense of purpose—that drives us, no, compels us to seek for something else, something bigger or better, something that is far beyond what is in the here and now.

I was at the exact same threshold about three years ago. I was straddling in between retreating into my own private cocoon and throwing myself into a tornado of my own making. My inflated sense of self worth told me I am more that what I think I am so I took a giant leap with my eyes closed and traversed the road less traveled. Life was never the same since.

Like any other rites of passage, mine was never easy. I remember the birth pains, the long and winding twist and turns of fate. You know it shouldn't be that huge of a deal if the instances that followed allowed for at least a couple of minutes for careful considerations. No, they were the big-bang, leap-of-faith, win-or-lose, now-or-never, w-t-f kind that called for desperate measures.

Maybe it's because I cared too much. I'd like to believe that there was an altruistic side of me that simply refused to sit within my designated seat ridges and watch the world fuck itself up.

Or maybe because I cared too little. Maybe I just believed in myself too much. Maybe I believed too much in my grand illusion (or delusion) that I'm designed for greatness, that I'm some kind of a wunderkind destined to be the solution to the world's god-forsaken, sorry life. This may sound cheesy, but just like everyone else, I am also in eternal pursuit of meaning.

I think most of us are too, and I think, just like me, most of us are just too scared to explore and consider that option because at the back of our heads we all know that the path to greatness may not always be the one that leads to happiness--or at least the blissful, euphoric kind.

Maybe it isn't so but it seems to me that this is one of those either-or things--either you're happy or you're great, either you're important or you're comfortable, either you're stable or you're free. I don't know with everyone else (and partly I don’t care) but it seems that I always find myself in a raging tug-of-war between two opposing forces.

Every time I manage to be utterly close to something I want for me, another aspect of my life falls apart. For some reason, I can't seem to hit them both at the same time--or if I probably did at one point, I couldn't seem to keep them firmly in my little hands for more than three point fifty seven seconds.

You know this was never a problem before I took that leap. I was one hell of a lucky girl. Damn, I really was a lucky girl. Everything I wanted during any given time was given to me on a silver platter. I don’t remember asking for much, but everything I had ever wanted fell from the sky right above my head, and I was the only one who was perfectly positioned to catch it.

Of course the struggle to make it big on my own had always been there, and I'm pretty sure the effort counts, but it didn’t feel right laying claim to something you didn’t feel you worked hard for. I’m not even sure if it’s right to call it luck in the first place. Maybe I just lack ambition, the will to aim for the highest, that even a tiny bit of accomplishment seemed like a huge trophy for me. That’s probably the reason I hardly failed at anything. I'd always assess my battles, and pick the ones with better survival rates. I wouldn’t gamble. I wouldn’t throw things to chance.

I didn’t think of ever trying to change the world then. I didn't even want a career. What I wanted was a happy family of my own like the one I grew up in, a hardworking husband who loves me more than I love him, and 3 kids to spoil on weekends in the country club. I thought, if I could change the world, what would I do? If I had the power to change the world without tampering on freewill, I don’t think there's much I could do anyway. Say, I want to eradicate poverty from the face of the earth. I bet my life that if I gave all the poor people in the world $1,000,000 each today, suppose I could afford it, I swear they’d be lining up for food stubs again after 3 weeks. Scums of the earth, no matter how much they have in their pockets, will always be scums of the earth. What a waste of omnipotence.

Sarcasm aside, what I’m trying to say is, I think the world is the way it is because people choose it to be this way. And I think God, with all his power and might, didn’t make us perfect human beings with a clear set of direction to which we must go so we can make that decision for ourselves. We chose who we are, and we can choose where we want to go.

So I decided to take the giant leap; and three years later, I find myself on the other side of the world, braving harsher winters, elbowing my way to the center against a bigger crowd, and leading the kind of life I wasn't quite prepared for. 

As of this very moment, I can say, despite best efforts to strike a balance between happiness and greatness, I am leaning towards the happy side--and for a cost, of course. I’m miles and miles away from my career goals, I feel that I lose a little of that writing spark as each day goes by. The words don’t come out now as easily as before, and I fear that one day I will lose altogether what little I have left. But as for all the other aspects, I feel so blessed; it will be gluttony to ask for anything more than what I have right now.

Then again, what’s so great about being great anyway? Most of the people I consider great don’t exactly lead the kind of life I want. And those who used to be great by my standard somewhat fell behind the shadows of fame when they decided they wanted to be happy. They all retired/fell from grace at the height of their career, and all we, spectators, could do was to shake our heads and feel nothing but shock and disappointment.

The higher they flew, the harder they fell. Some of us would rather feel that fall than feel nothing at all. On the other hand, some of us would rather carve a tiny, peaceful existence, seal ourselves in that small, air-conditioned room, and lock out the glare, the heat, and the suffering world. Some of us think that the downside of going the extra mile is compensated by the satisfaction derived from it. Some of us think that our only shot at perfection is to strive for it in our own little corner of the universe.

I think all of us are right in a way, but I think too that even if we underwent the most precise deliberating procedure, we wouldn’t always end up where we want to be. Of course we are always welcome to bitch about it, but whatever for? Sometimes it doesn't hurt to play along with life and its fickleness once in a while. After all, we can always console ourselves and say that maybe everything happens for a reason, that maybe it’s all for the best. That should work. At least the blame wouldn't always be on us.

We can do that or we can keep fighting and try to outdo ourselves in spite of ourselves. That thing, that drive, that itch deserves a spot in all of us. And I think despite its empty promises, we should keep on trying to push a little further, to up the ante, to raise the bar, to change the rules, and to dictate the tempo even if the world says "no." We can’t afford to be too contented in this world. And that even if we lacked the gift to wrestle with reason, I think the questions must still be asked. Maybe we should because I don’t think I can stand at the edge of the earth, stare into a vast space, and not wonder why God created such a big universe only to cramp us all in a small planet.

Whether I made the right decision, I don’t have an answer. Just like you I am hoping that one day I could bring all my thoughts into a sensible conclusion, hoping that all my imaginings and pondering will resolve themselves without my help.

Maybe I care too much. Or maybe I just believe in myself too much. Maybe I’m bound to hit rock bottom sooner or later. But maybe, too, it’s okay to be confused and scared today. After all, the greatest rewards come from doing things that scare us the most.

Up the ante, raise the bar, change the rules, dictate the tempo—not because we must but because we can.

is the story of the tower of babel repeating itself?

"And the whole earth was of one language, and of one speech. And it came to pass, as they journeyed from the east, that they found a plain in the land of Shinar; and they dwelt there. And they said one to another, Go to, let us make brick, and burn them thoroughly. And they had brick for stone, and slime had they for mortar. And they said, Go to, let us build us a city and a tower, whose top may reach unto heaven; and let us make us a name, lest we be scattered abroad upon the face of the whole earth. And the Lord came down to see the city and the tower, which the children built. And the Lord said, Behold, the people is one, and they have all one language; and this they begin to do; and now nothing will be restrained from them, which they have imagined to do. Go to, let us go down, and there confound their language, that they may not understand one another's speech. So the Lord scattered them abroad from thence upon the face of all the earth: and they left off to build the city" - The Book of Genesis

once, there was a dream--and the dream was to create a unified humanity, a global conglomerate united by electronic technology, where information and ideas are freely exchanged at the speed of thought, bridging gaps, crossing boundaries, joining polarities, defying differences, and creating a worldwide allegiance to global responsibility.

for about 40 years, ever since marshall mcLuhan coined the term "global village," every country in the world seems to be working towards this direction. globalization seems to have penetrated almost every aspect of our everyday life--from politics to economy, from education to culture, from what we see on tv to what we read from books, from our mode of speaking to our preferred brands of clothing. arguably, we all seem to live, speak, eat, dress up, and up to a certain extent maybe even look, like almost every one else in the world.

at least to mere mortals like me, this is not a bad thing. i honestly like the fact that unlike the people in history, i am given as much options as the world could possibly offer. i like the fact that i have unlimited access to all possible information i can know. i like the idea that i'm not restricted to believe only the beliefs of my ancestors or even my parents. i like freedom. and may god forgive me for what i will say next but if the tree of knowledge would suddenly emerge from the ground right in front of me, i would probably not have enough level of emotional quotient to not bite that juicy red apple. so breathe now, adam, i'm sure the world has forgiven you already. there i said it, so sue me.

in the recent months, however, the world has seen a sudden shift: globalization seems to be reversing. one indication is the economy. i'm not going to state the obvious anymore; we've talked more about the world economy in the last two years than they had in the last 2,000 years. we know that the US economic model of free trade is beginning to lose popularity, especially among the hungry masses who are now subsisting on food stubs distributed by the government. in a bid to thwart possible mass outrage caused by nationwide hunger, unemployment, and foreclosures, governments of highly industrialized countries are beginning to focus inward and move towards intervention, reregulation, and even buyouts, leaving momentarily their self-imposed global leadership roles.

it seems that the only country whose unique political-economic model has come through unscathed amid these trouble times is china. the chinese people are probably one of the least free people in the world but at least in terms of financial reserves, china seems to be now the world's wealthiest country. on a side note, sometimes it makes me think if we could have been in a better position now had we not forced the dictatorial government of marcos out. i guess in answering rhetorical questions like this, it all boils down to which is more important: food on the table or freedom of expression? for filipinos, it's probably the latter.

and the plot doesn't stop here. in a bid to hamper the spread of swine flu, countries had shut down their doors to trade and tourism. the election of the first black president in the u.s. has raised racism to a whole new level--from black discrimination to black supremacy. discriminating actions against foreign workers are spreading due to scarcity of jobs. budget cuts provoked rise of domestic travel, which consequently prompted discovery of national pride and identity. and the list goes on.

we thought that the dawn of technology would transcend physical distances and expand and unite social spheres. we thought the free-flowing exchange of ideas and knowledge and the surfacing of a universal language would help us to understand each other more. we thought that by making a step towards the center all at the same time, we could collectively tear down barriers and bring the world closer. we thought that the unipolar world is achievable. we were wrong.

was too much freedom, too much free trade, too much freewill, too much clamoring for equality the cause of our own destruction? is unity really a good thing? if the premise "two heads are better than one" is true, does that also mean that six million heads thinking independently and claiming to have thought of the right answer would collectively arrive at a better answer? what about six billion heads?

when moses freed the israelites from the oppressing rule of the egyptians, did he even pause to think whether the israelites deserved the power to govern themselves? didn't they once, maybe even a few times, create their own rendition of a golden god? didn't they once, maybe even a few times, succumb to unruly and unlawful lifestyle? didn't they once, maybe even a few times, ask--no, demand--to be sent back to egypt because there, food--albeit a few--was at least tossed right at their feet so they could eat like dogs on their filthy hands? then, it rained with bread; but not before the israelites had learned to mind their manners and be grateful and careful of their freedom.

now i don't know what's more unfathomable to happen in these troubled times: the raining with bread or people learning to be ever grateful and careful of freedom. it seems that the more we sought world peace, the more it becomes elusive. in our harmless intention to understand the world we live in and to make ourselves relevant to the rest of humanity, we seem to be doing more harm than good.

no offense to technology. no offense to the visionaries of the time before ours, those who dedicated their entire lives so we can stop dressing ourselves with nothing more than banana leaves and animal skin. but maybe, just maybe, we're meant to be different. maybe we're meant to lead solitary lives. maybe when people are not speaking with each other that's the only way we can really and truly achieve world peace.

but then again, maybe we're just animals, a bunch of dogs that are trying to be something else, trying to be manicured poodles who don't really want world peace.

and the saga continues

excerpt from the philippine inquirer on
panlilio:

"...he is the one public official malacanang sought
desperately to get rid of. therefore, by the law of opposites, which says dark
hates light and thieves hate honest men, he is the one public official who most
deserves to be in malacanang...the elections next year offer the enormous
potential of being a battle between good and evil...the situation in the country
today makes the elections more than a purely political exercise, it makes them a
life-and-death moral choice. at least among the current presidentiables,
panlilio has the potential to be so...not becuase he is a priest/religious but
because he is an honest man, he is a decent man, he is a simple man."

this entry is not a political commentary, nor is this an attempt to attack the words of a respectable writer whom, despite our disparities in political views, I highly admire.

moreover, i have no comment on panlilio, or on any political figure looking to get a piece of the presidential seat for that matter. i have completely lost touch with philippine politics (except the kind that happens in my office of which i am a central figure) and therefore am in no position at all to make a credible judgment.

although i must admit the shock i felt when i found out that the elections next year has already reached theatric, "matter-of-life-and-death," "good-versus-evil" proportions. have i really been away that long? has the saga that is the philippine politics become an epic journey of a hero's quest to fight the evil monster and save the faraway kingdom from eternal damnation? ooohhh...my kind of entertainment. popcorn please, louise.

so panlilio, as they say, is an honest, decent, and simple man--but so are my parents, so is our parish priest, so is my fourth grade CVE teacher, so is that CTA driver who always, despite the deadly, penetrating morning chill, manages to say "how 'ya doin' today, missy?" with a smile whenever i get on his bus, so is like half the people i know. yes, i'm fully aware that one by one nations are descending into chaos as threats on world economy increases exponentially. but news flash, everyone: we haven't run out of good people. it might be hard to believe but we haven't reached that point yet. we haven't run out of honest, decent, and simple people. so what makes panlilio "the chosen one"?

honest, decent, simple--really, of about a million positive adjectives in the english dictionary, is this the best set we can come up with to describe an ideal presidentiable? i'm not saying that it's bad, it's just scary. has our traumatic political and electoral history already caused us to develop a delicious sense of absurd, that the norm in terms of "being human" has already become the extraordinary, the extreme, the extinct?

and what the hell is a moral choice? what makes it different from all the other kinds of choices? is it a choice that you choose because/when/if you're a moral person? is there also a morally incorrect/immorally correct choice? who gets to decide the parameters of morality? before i proceed with my argument, i just want to know if there are any other kinds of choice that i should be informed about (e.g. logical choice, physiological choice, emotional choice, drunken choice, ladies' choice...) i mean, come on, making a choice is hard by itself, why do we have to complicate things by categorizing "choices" by which faculty of the brain gets activated when you make it?

this reminds me of the perennial dilemma of today's teens in cheesy chick flicks: "i don't know what to do, my heart says this, but my head says that." the funny thing is, situations in which this line is used usually have a common denominator: forbidden love affair. first and foremost, how could you relate schizophrenic tendencies with your sheer indecisiveness? and second, if a relationship must be kept a secret, then don't you think that you shouldn't be in it? mind you, that's not my heart talking, that's my common sense. then again, the latter is beside the point.

apparently, a lot of people believe that in real life, hearts have occupations other than its anatomical profession. some people confuse their blurred perception of right and wrong with their brain's natural process of decision making, in which alternatives are weighed until a satisfactory course of action has been made. when you make a choice, you reason with yourself, considering all stakes, ambiguities, realities, biases, values, needs, preferences, physical senses, and maybe even our emotions. and when you've arrived at a decision, you don't categorize it based on one variable alone, because a choice is the end result, the bi-product, the sum total of your brain's long and winding arithmetic operation.

and so when you're at the pitchfork and are asked which road to take, you don't say i'm taking this path as a daughter, then i'll go back and re-route as a totally different persona. you don't say this is my choice when i'm drunk because during which i'm allowed to be stupid. and you definitely don't say that i'm voting for this person because i feel like being morally upright today. that's not how it works, because you are what you choose. in short, you don't justify a decision or a choice by giving it a name or giving it its own category. when you make it--regardless of the formula you used or which of your two heads did the thinking on most parts--it's yours and you should own up to it.

so when a person does not give panlilio the highest regard, it doesn't necessarily follow that that person is immoral. besides, the concept of morality alone entails a long debate; we should be careful in handling heavy words like that. i do not doubt the goodness in people, nor do i doubt panlilio's capacity to lead. but it takes an attitude greater than simplicity, decency, and honesty to lead a third-world country out of its shithole. if anything, a choice--whether it involves putting a person in power or not--should be, more than anything else, an "informed" one, one that doesn't alienate all the other variables in favor of one. and only when people choose someone who they truly and wholeheartedly believe to be, to the best of their knowledge, someone capable of change as their leader, that a choice is, for me, a moral one, regardless of who that person is.

and unless people start educating themselves instead of listening to prophetic, albeit well-written, expressions, our story as people of the philippines, like that of those tragic heroes in all those great pieces of literature, will forever be an epic failure.

swine scare, job shortage, credit card debts, mortgage, and everything on their worry plate

Let's start with swine.

History indicates that flu pandemics tend to occur once every 20 years or so. Experts say that this generation is due for one. Whether this ongoing swine flu scare is what they would like to call as "the one," it's too early to tell.

A pandemic is described as the following: a new virus to which everybody is susceptible; a virus that has the ability to readily spread from person to person; and one that has the capability of causing significant disease in humans. You probably have a visual knowledge of how a pandemic works (think Dawn of the Dead, Quarantine, or I am Legend). Scary, huh, but it could also be that these kinds of things are nature's way of saying, "hey, I'm filthy, gimme a freakin' bath!" And until we give it the attention it deserves, we are doomed to put up with its wrathful coping mechanisms in the next hundred years.

Now I'm not sure if swine has already reached pandemic heights, but a lot of people are saying that it may reach that point if we are not vigilant. In Mexico, more than 1,000 people have already fallen ill in a short period of time; about 68 of which already died. Outside the Mexican borders are hundreds of sporadic swine flu cases. More cases were reported in neighboring countries such as the United States and Canada. Already, eight people within the US territory matches the virus that killed 68 in Mexico. I can go on with a litany of new cases, but the problem, unfortunately, doesn't stop here.

In the event of a pandemic, the virus is not the only thing that kills. Most of the time, it's the fear of getting infected--and the panic that goes with it--that's slowly eating up and draining out the humanity in humans.

The shutdown of public life cost Mexico $2.2 billion in the first 10 days after the epidemic was announced. But instead of providing aid and medical expertise to combat the virus, some wealthy countries shuddered at thought of keeping their arms and borders open to traveling Mexicans. China, Cuba, Ecuador, Argentina, and Peru already got on Mexico's bad side for banning flights to Mexico. France is also urging other European countries to declare a union-wide ban. Haiti even rejected a Mexican ship last week carrying 77 tons of much-needed food aid because of swine flu fears.

On a more relevant note, Manny Pacquiao was asked whether he would rather stay a bit longer in the US or allow himself to be quarantined for a few days as soon as he lands in the Philippines. Of course this is just a precautionary measure, and I'm sure the RP government didn't intend to alienate its age-old ally, but i think the way they handled this one was a little bit too much. Ever since the swine flu news broke out, I haven't seen anyone here wear a mask or lock themselves in their rooms in fear of infection. For the first time in months the sun is out, and so is everyone. That alone is a clear indication that hardly anyone here is worried.

I'm sure Americans would love to worry about swine flu, but right now, they just don't have enough time and energy for that anymore. There's too much on their worry plate: settling for internships instead of permanent jobs, refinancing their mortgage, finding a baby sitter while they juggle part-time jobs, getting a DUI on the way home from a party, getting themselves educated and prepared when the economy turns (which is, they say, in a year's time), and so on.

Now on a personal note, as a Philippine tourism advocate, how many times have I been asked whether it's safe to travel to the Philippines despite the kidnapping incident that dates back to a decade ago? Almost all my speaking engagements end up in conversations about the sporadic cases of terrorism in the southernmost side of the country. Hey guys, don't you read newspapers? Really, there's nothing that can happen to you in the Philippines that can't happen to you anywhere else in the world.

The thing is we say that we are all for a global village, for a laissez faire, for a give-and-take system that's free from regulations and cultural, political, and social interference. We say we're for a borderless state where everyone is a citizen of the world. But how come when things like this crop up, the people calling for unity are the very same ones who are quick to turn their backs and wash their hands? What kind of neighborhood are we trying to build here?

Yeah, yeah we're trying to be safety conscious here and all, but if at the slightest hint of difficulty or misunderstanding we tend to forget our diplomacies and courtesies, then let's not make friends with anyone anymore. Let's not waste time settling differences among races and nations and pretending that despite our physical, historical, and cultural polarities, we are in fact the same. Let's do away with lip services during UN summits. Let's do away with monumental aspirations to be one in spirit. Let's forget that we are all people, and move on with leading different, separate lives.

what goes around comes around

I lost something so dear to me at a time I needed it most—my earmuff.

Of all the nights, it had to happen on a cold, windy night of about negative effing something degrees. I must have dropped it somewhere as I was scurrying down the slippery sidewalk on the way to the nearest bus stop.

Oh well. Wherever my fur-coated earmuff is right now is probably in the hands of that lucky bastard who probably has no intention of looking for its rightful owner. After all, earmuffs are lost and found every day, right? Who would give a damn?

Yeah, that was what I thought too when I found someone else’s earmuff lying on a vacant train seat about a couple of weeks back. At that time I had no real need for one because I had my own and it was working perfectly fine. Still I found myself shoving the newfound treasure in my bag, thinking that if I were the owner, I wouldn't go all the way back just for something so basic and virtually worthless ($9 at Wallgreens).

Well I know stealing is bad, but who gets punished for keeping something that doesn't belong to anyone?

So two weeks later, on that cold winter night of about negative effing something degrees, my bare ears—cold and white as snow—suffered the fate of my ill-judgment. For a while I thought my ears were going to fall off any time soon. Fortunately, they didn't—and they lived to see another day to tell the miraculous tale of that thing called Karma.

Now I may not understand the whole concept/ideology/philosophy surrounding Karma (I mean the way Hindus do with all the reincarnation and all), but I have always believed in the fact that whatever you do comes back to you. In fact, I'm not the only one.

Hindu version: "Let not any man do unto antoher any act that he wisheth not done to himself by others, knowing it to be painful to himself" (Mahabharata, Shanti Parva, cclx.21).

Christian version: "Treat others as you would like them to treat you" (Luke 6:31).

Confucian version: "Do not do to others what you would not want them to do to you" (Analects, Book xii, #2).

Buddhist version: "Hurt not others with that which pains yourself" (Udanavarga, v. 18).

Jewish version: "What is hateful to yourself do not do to your fellow man" (Babylonian Talmud, Shabbath 31a).

Muslim version: "No man is a true believer unless he desires for his brother that which he desires for himself" (Hadith, Muslim, imam 71-72).

Justin Timberlake version: "What goes around, goes around, goes around, comes all the way back around" (What Goes Around Comes Around).

The earmuff incident is just one of the many Karmic incidents I've experienced first hand. In fact, I have had quite a number of anecdotes that will support all these ancient sayings; not all of them, however, are negative.

When I still was what they call "problem child" (hey, I told you already about my delinquent past, right?), no matter how serious my offense was, I would always find justifications for my actions. My mom had given up trying to teach me verbally the rules of propriety, so she would always resort to playing the toughie by giving me a hard slap on the butt. It didn't work, of course. I mean, so what if I get a few bruises that would heal in a few days? That wasn't so bad. All I had to do for redemption was to pop my big child eyes and apologize; no need for actual change of heart.

My dad, on the other hand, used a different approach. Instead of associating bad results with doing bad things, he associated good, non-material rewards with doing good things. Think of it as having a "moral bank," he said. The more you invest, the more you save for the rainy days ahead. That was my first karmic orientation.

As the years go by this whole idea of a "moral bank" has become the benchmark of my actions. That probably is the reason why I am what I am today.

I may be meek by nature, and may even be too courteous for my own good, but there's a reason why I'd rather give a cold shoulder to other people's misconduct than to engage myself in cheap catfights, dirty trash talks, or bloody blogwars (well I may have, but I did it in style—helluva difference!)—and that has a lot to do with my understanding of how the karmic energy works.

You know in fairy tales, when the good always triumphs over evil, there's really a heady dose of logic behind it (no, it's not just a scheming adult's ploy to terrorize kids). Of course we all hate those frickin' princesses and how they always have to be the fairest of them all, and how those dashing princes have to come all the way from faraway kingdoms just to save them from their ugly step-relatives (which end up either dead or locked up in a lamp or something), and how they allegedly live happily ever after with nary a sign of discontent.

But come to think of it, like the rest of the not-so-fair ladies in the kingdom, they don't always get what they want. In fact I think it's rather unfair for them to be the subject of someone else's disgust for the sheer reason that they're, well, "the fairest of them all." I mean, since when has being pretty and pleasant become such a huge crime?!

On the other hand, I can also understand where the wicked witch's wrath is coming from. For some reason, the wicked ones always have the upper hand in the beginning of the story. They're always the ones blessed with power, authority, competence, machinery, an army of goblins and orcs, and mastery of sorcery and black magic. Still these were never enough to give them the distinction of being the best, the most, and the fairest. They always seem to lose it to a "nice" and "pleasant" country lass who has no real ambition but to kiss the cutest boy in the kingdom. Nice girls always win by default. Come to think of it—it doesn't seem fair at all either.

So why does the "good" always triumph in the end? Two things: One is that those who are wicked by nature have a natural tendency to self-destruct; and two, those who are naturally nice (by fairy tale standards) unconsciously creates an invisible bubble of hope and optimism that sort of shields—or at the very least cushions—them from the slings and arrows of outrageous fortunes. No matter what the ending is, they always come out unscathed, untroubled, undaunted.

In short, the concept of triumph and tragedy is not in the circumstances we face every day—it’s all in the mind. We all face the same battle every day, and we are all equipped with equal sets of hands and feet. We lose and win every day. We only differ in how soon we stand up and fight back after we fall.

Most people I know say, whether in good faith or not, that I probably fall under the princess category. Whether it has something to do with my recurrent blond moments, I don’t know. But just as how most fairy tales go, princess gracee has encountered one too many villains in her life. And just as how most stories go, theirs would always end with a painful twist—most of the time, it would happen almost methodically and without requiring her to lift a finger. An awful lot has tried; but as they say, you can’t bring a good girl down.

Happy people, as in really happy people, as in happiest-in-the-world kind of people, always have a way of attracting positive karmic energy. Either they are happy because they're reaping karmic rewards or the other way around. Either way, this healthy exchange of positive energy makes them almost impervious to negative feelings such as anger, hatred, envy, and regret. You’d know a happy person when you see one, usually they don’t say or write mean things about other people. They don’t feed on other people's misfortunes. They don’t take advantage of other people’s weaknesses. They don’t desire for something that’s not theirs. They don’t just take what they want at the expense of others. In a nutshell, they wouldn’t and just couldn’t find it in their hearts to hurt anyone knowingly and deliberately.

I am yet to see a truly happy person. They say it’s easy to do good things if you have everything you need right within easy reach. And just the same, it’s easy to harbor a collective grudge to the world when it always turns a blind eye on you. They could be right, but I also think that in the end, the quality of our life and our being is determined by the actions we live by and that it is on how we deal with our misfortunes—and how we manage to keep our values intact despite them—that our characters are judged.

In short, Karma doesn’t make good things happen to good people, nor does it make bad things happen to bad people. It’s simply a system of reward and punishment that we consciously or unconsciously give or inflict upon ourselves. Yes, whether other people know what we did or not, there will be an equal retribution for all our actions.

Of course, even if I didn’t exactly harm anyone by taking that earmuff, I know I should have taken the pains of giving it to the train attendant (even if I knew he’d keep it for himself anyway). So in the end even if I lost my earmuff, I won’t have to feel bad and look back to that day I’ve taken someone else's. And I won’t have to take the pains of writing this long entry and you wouldn’t have to take the pains of reading it through. You see the domino effect now?

But even so, at least I was able to share with you three valuable lessons I’ve learned from this experience which I’ve already learned in kindergarten:

1. What’s his is his, what’s hers is hers. Do not take what’s not yours.

2. Do not take more than your fair share of anything.

3. When you’ve taken something, put it back to where it belongs.

You'll never know what you will lose next time. After all, Karma can be real bitch sometimes, especially when it needs to. But then again, you know that already. In fact you think about that a lot, especially at night when you lie awake for hours all alone, thinking about the good old days long gone.

sloppy firsts

"Even in our sleep, pain which cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, until, in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God." - Aeschylus

The first snowfall of the year descended upon Chicago on my first day at work.

It was four p.m., and just as my colleagues and I were hopping inside the rented vehicle that would take us to O’Hare, where my first project as a marketing and communications specialist would take place, one little snowflake hit the tip of my nose. It sent a tingling sensation down my spine; it felt like a soft kiss from the sky. At first I thought it was raining; then I looked around and saw a million white things dancing in the air. For a while I was worried I wasn’t as bundled up as I should be.

“Nah, it’s just flurries, you’ll be fine,” my colleague said. Unlike most people here, I wasn’t trained to sit through weather reports before leaving the house. I didn’t know it’s something that they really hold sacred here, like a bushido or something that they really need to know by heart and live by. Anyway.

I should have captured that moment, I know. I must have looked really silly. There I was in the middle of downtown Chicago, grinning like a child on Christmas morning, holding my palms up, waiting for the sky to open up and drop some more.

It was just so magical. It gave me a weird feeling—the happy kind of weird if you know what I mean. It felt almost like I was in grade school again and it was the first day of school. Or I was five and it was my first time to ride a bike. Or the first time I rode a plane and went out of the country. The first time I went to Disneyland. The first pay check. The first kiss…

They don’t like the snow very much around here. Partly, I think, it's because of the major inconveniences it entails—heavier and costlier coats, oversize gloves, unflattering bonnets and ear muffs, slippery roads, a driveway-full of snow, coughs and colds, precious leisure time spent inside the house. And partly, i think, it's because of the cold. It can really get pretty cold around here. Really cold. In fact too cold that sometimes even the noon-time sun seems useless.

I am yet to feel the kind of cold that winters bring, but if I may be so brazen, I must say that I’ve had my fair share of autumn’s chill. It made me miss the seemingly endless summer days of home. I knew from the start that the seasons would change eventually; I just didn’t think the transition would be drastic, quick, and sometimes harsh. Of course, in times like this, one can always opt to hide under the heavy sheets and curse the weather. Or, one can get up, take one baby step out of the comforter, and start moving.

Physiologically, working out those lazy muscles helps in blood circulation and maintains body temperature. Psychologically, it makes you forget about it. Now I’m not sure about the physiological part, I’m not a doctor. It’s the forgetting part that worked for me. The sheets are so damn comfortable, I know, but it can only do so much. I have learned that if I want to fend off something—whether it’s the winter chill or not—I’ve got to help myself, because sometimes, if not most of the time, nobody will.

Especially in downtown. But I love the downtown—its urban rhythm, beat, bustle and all. It’s mad, mystical, and whimsical. It’s fierce, foreign, feisty, and unforgiving. It won't give you enough elbow room for adjustments; no time for grace period. In most part of Illinois, leaves fall, trees die, wild geese migrate, skunks hibernate, but life goes on in downtown Chicago. Despite the wrath of winter, the men and women in suit would soldier on, wander the streets purposefully like young soldiers in the battlefield. Now I’ve encountered fatal deadlines and worked with some of the fiercest editors before, but never have I understood the meaning of "life on the run" until now. You’ve got to move really fast and learn really fast to keep up with everybody’s pace. Americans are wasteful of everything except time.

Of course this is pretty unusual for someone who has always lived the alternative lifestyle—the kind that some people will never get the chance to live even if they work their asses off all their lives. Oops, how mean of me to talk about that during this difficult time. I keep on forgetting that I now belong to a world where the word “economy” makes noses cringe. For someone who’s used to economy flights and economy size, I find it amusing the way Americans deal with recession.

They keep on relating it to the Great Depression, a time when Americans stand in long bread lines and hide their money under the mattress. It was a time of hardship and suffering on a massive scale. If you ask me, the long NFA rice lines in the Philippines look more like the Great Depression kind than the near-empty shopping malls here. I think they’ve become so accustomed to their high life that they think it’s depressing already that they need to hold off any attempt at hitting the mall and buying one of those things they’ll never use. If you want my honest opinion, I’d say the war on terrorism and the surging oil prices are not the problem. It’s this culture that is cushioned and conditioned by credit cards and the generation that turns a blind eye on this glaring fact that kill them. But then again that is just my opinion.

Aside from money, almost everything else here is fast and fleeting, which is why running is a way of life. Everything comes in unceremoniously, and just as you are starting to recover from the shock and get comfortable with it, it leaves—also unceremoniously. Just like that big sale at the corner of State Street. Just like that train I’ve waited an hour for. Just like the flurry that day at four p.m.—it didn’t even last for more than 20 minutes. Just like autumn.

Autumn was my first heartbreak. For someone who came from California where the weather is more Pinoy-friendly, the thought of living in Chicago used to give me the chills. But that was before I saw autumn. It was picture-perfect, not to mention the climate is just right. The sun is bright and hot but the chill of winter is in the air. It is truly Chicago’s crowning glory.

On a good day, the skies would be so blue--the bluest I've seen so far—even at noon when sunlight is at its prime. It would complement the cacophony of colors everywhere—mostly from the falling leaves along tree-line sidewalks. I just love that crackling sound when dried leaves crumble beneath my feet.

The best thing about autumn is that it changes its face every day; no day is the same. And every day I would tell myself to make it a point to bring my good old camera whenever I go out. For some darn reason and some vague excuse, I never got around to doing it. Before I knew it, the leaves have fallen and then it was winter. Just like that. Winter came just as I was growing emotionally attached to autumn. I didn’t even have the chance to say goodbye.

Well I guess that's just one of the realities I need to live with from now on. It's not like I have much of a choice. I can't hold on to something that doesn't belong to me. Right now I'm just glad I was one of the privileged few who got to see and appreciate it. And so I say hasta luego, autumn, I’ll see you when I see you. Even with bad reviews, I still look forward to the promise of winter. Come on, it can't be that bad, right? And besides, I’ve always loved the color white.

But I'm afraid I'm the only one who does. They didn’t even flinch at the idea of the first snowfall, those men and women in suits in downtown. For them it simply meant shoving aside their bright summer clothes and stacking up on high-calorie junks. But for me it represented the first of the many firsts that I will enjoy and endure from this day onwards.

I’ve just turned 25. Isn’t it weird that I’m already about to start the second quarter of my life (suppose I live to be a hundred years old), and yet I’m still encountering a lot of things for the first time? Did I start late? Do they ever run out? Will I wake up one morning and dare to say I’ve been there, done that, and lived to tell the tale without much humiliation? I don’t know. I really wish but I really don’t know. I know there’s perfection in things familiar, but that’s just too far ahead right now. After all, all I am is just a small girl in a big big city. Maybe tomorrow I’ll conquer Chicago; then after that, the world. But before I get there, I am fully aware that there would be undulations in the process. It's the same everywhere; who am I to complain? The trick really is to be optimistic and believe in the fact that the future will always be better than the past. For now, I'm just enjoying the thrill of discovery that comes with experiencing all these firsts.

Palibhasa Lalake

Disclaimer: Sorry guys, I'm just trying to prove a point.

Sabi nga sa Clear commercial, men are different from women. From facial pore size to dandruff tendencies, ibang-iba daw talaga ang anatomical features ng lalake at babae. It probably doesn’t take a marketing and advertising genius to figure that one out. The physical differences are rather obvious and most of these can be seen and easily measured.

Men usually have greater upper body strength. They build muscles easily. They have thicker skin. They bruise less easily and they have a higher threshold for injuries. In short, men are essentially built for physical confrontation and use of force. Siguro dito nila nakuha yung idea of superiority. Kumbaga sa animal kingdom, the lions, the fiercest and virtually the fastest of all predators, are considered kings because they are well-positioned at the farthest end of the food chain.

What they failed to realize, however, is that maybe there’s more to their physical strength than its survival value. Yes, I’m toying with the idea that maybe their strength is designed for far greater things—for building castles and temples for queens and pre-Hispanic babaylans (or religious leaders which were usually female), for food-hunting in the wild for the family…in short, for slavery.

Now why do I say that? Women’s brain cells or neurons are four times more than that of men, providing them more efficient access to both sides of their brain. If we think about it, women are anatomically designed to be thinkers, and men doers. Diba nga girls, kaya minsan hindi mo maintindihan kung bakit hindi ka niya maintindihan? Well, next time at least you know the reason why.

Of course, this is from a point of view of a woman. Hindi ako feminist, because I don’t think we’re superior to men (even if our superior anatomical features point otherwise). I think men and women are equal—not the same but equal—in terms of strengths and weaknesses.

So when they cheat and tell you that age-old bullshit na “normal yun kasi lalake ako,” what do they really mean? They mean that they are biologically programmed to be sex machines. I hate to give them a sound excuse, but this is not entirely false.

Unfortunately, there really are studies that show that men have psychological and physiological mechanisms that make sexually invigorated one too many times than what is politically accepted. Hormones, particularly testosterone, stimulate a person's sex drive, among other things. Believe it or not, they say that sometimes it’s more of a biological matter than it is ethical or moral.

Ha! Are we supposed to feel better now? But what about the age-old debate on the all-time favorite adobo versus the special occasion-essential kare-kare? They say that while there’s always comfort in eating adobo every day, it doesn’t hurt to sample the rich flavors of kare-kare once in a while. Of course, if this is the only argument available, I will have to agree. As a foodie myself, I can’t stand the thought of having to eat one type of dish for the rest of my life.

But given the limiting consequences of this glaring reality, how come there are still men out there who can simply dismiss this fact and get hitched anyway? Is that because there was a point in their lives when they didn’t want to eat anything but adobo? Or do they just want an adobo to always go back to when the kare-kare becomes nakakasuya?

Of course, if you’re a gourmet adobo, it’s not the kare-kare that you need to watch out for. It’s the wild, tasteless, and cheap talbos ng kamote in the backyard whose only chance of being consumed is through someone on the brink of starvation. Bad news for the adobos: a hungry person can’t afford to be too picky.

Remember in 1995, Brit actor Hugh Grant, then the high-profile boyfriend of English model/actress Elizabeth Hurley, got involved in a scandal with a prostitute. Let me repeat: A prostitute! Of course you’d think, why would any straight man in the right mind cheat on the gorgeous Elizabeth Hurley? And with a hooker for crying out loud!

Holy S! If someone as beautiful as her can be cheated on, what are the chances that we commoners wouldn’t suffer the same fate? What do we have against the cold hard truth that even the most beautiful woman in the world has only one womb, whereas even the ugliest man alive has an unlimited supply of sperm?!

This brings us back to the vital core of this conversation: How much are we really affected by hormones? Is it enough to blur the contrast between perceptions of right and wrong, love and lust? How much are we affected by our anatomical differences? Does that dictate our destiny—or at least our ability to keep our belts tightly buckled?

For me that’s a big NO. And I’m not saying this because I don’t get the same amount of special treatment when I have PMS. I’m saying this because I’d like to believe that we are the masters of our own fate. And just because it’s instinctive and natural doesn’t necessarily mean it's right. What differentiates us from animals is our ability to rationalize, weigh the pros and cons, discern right from wrong, and rise above our primitive inclinations.

However, it seems that some men haven’t completely evolved from apes to full-fledged rational beings. Either that premise is true or they just enjoy the diplomatic immunity that comes with playing dumb. Of course, it’s more convenient to play dumb; it lets you bask in the crimes of passion with relative impunity.

On a lighter note, I think it would be unfair to talk about men and cheating in general. I think the bottom line is people make mistakes, and it has nothing to do with gender. Most of the time, it’s not about the differences in brain chemistry, but the differences in circumstances. On the other hand, we all have an equal capacity to repel temptations; and just the same, gender has nothing to do with that. Men can go on hiding under the skirts of their “manhood,” but that does not give them a birthright to fall prey to vicious vixens and their weapons of mass destruction.

Of course men will always have a different point of view on this. After all, men and women live in completely different realities. While infidelity among men continues to haunt and plague someone who may know someone we know, I still believe that if we dig long and hard enough, it’s not unlikely that we’d find a patch of perfection in this crazy world—a patch untouched, untarnished, and untroubled by the flaws and foibles of the human race.

For those who haven’t found it yet, oh well, sabi nga ng friend ni nek, “Life’s a dick, it’s hard. Fuck it.”

naisip ko lang...ulit.

...at kung inisip mo nang matagal, nang maraming beses, nang paulit-ulit, maiisip mo rin ba ang tamang sagot?

usapang kanin

"Tangina Mo, Andaming Nagugutom sa Mundo Fashionista Ka Pa Rin!"

– Radioactive Sago Project

There’s an unwritten rule among Bene High students (especially among the ladies) that prohibits the eating of everything on one’s plate during a meal. If I’m not mistaken, the generally accepted quantity of leftovers is at least five spoonfuls of rice and at least two bite sizes of the main course. Of course, this goes to show that the more food you leave on your plate, the more socially attractive you become. Everybody who’s anybody (even those who are at least trying to be) knows this rule very well.

I have no idea when the tradition started or if it’s still being practiced today; but during my time, it was social suicide to go beyond the usual rice intake regardless of how hungry one is. It’s probably the culture of wastefulness that generates the sweet air of affluence. Mga taga-bene nga naman. Ridiculous, I know, but it used to make sense to me back then when being socially accepted was more important than being sensible.

Four years later, I moved out of comfort zone and headed for the urban jungle known as Manila. College life along Espana is not for the faint of heart. For one, it takes forever to get there, no matter where you’ve come from.

In this side of Manila, a complete meal of P15 is more than just possible; it’s edible. As I discovered the cheap offerings of small restaurants (more like hole-in-the-wall eateries) that line the eskinitas along Dapitan, eating at the usual fast food joints became a rare commodity. Each time we eat, my college classmates would look at me with curious eyes, perhaps a little concerned over my habitual wastefulness. I didn't realize I carried on such a foolish tradition. From time to time they would raise their concern and tell me all about the hungry people who subsist on garbage for food. Of course the idea of young children going hungry because of me was enough to pierce through my conscience, enough to force me to finish everything up to the last grain of rice, thinking that by eating everything there will be one less hungry person in the world.

Since then, it had been an old habit of mine to constantly remind my fellow eaters about the prevalent malnourishment in the world. And just like me, they would blindly oblige and gobble up whatever’s left of their meals. Until one classmate—probably fed up from all the persistent malnutrition alerts—pointed out, “bakit, pagkinain ko ba ‘to lahat, mabubusog ba sila?” So rude yet so true—until prices of rice started soaring to outrageous heights.

Lucky for our family, we are not so much of a rice-eater that’s why we can still afford to indulge in the P60 per kilo jasmine rice (it’s really the gas that’s depleting our resources). Our monthly rice consumption is probably just around 3 kilos, so it’s not much of a burden—yet. Imagine if we’re all boys, my mother would have gone crazy! It would have been miserable, just like when my dad was a lot younger. He told me their family used to eat just rice and soy sauce every day and it was a good meal already, a lot better than having nothing to eat. They were very poor, and there were 13 mouths to feed in the family.

Whenever my dad would tell me stories about his past, I can’t help but feel so guilty for having everything I need (not want; i don't belong to a well-to-do family) within easy reach. It sucks that my dad had to live that kind of life, but it sucks more knowing that most Filipino families still live and eat that way. Now, with oil prices hitting the ceiling and rice becoming an endangered commodity, what more is left for them to eat?

It’s no wonder food riots are happening all over the world (yes, it’s not just in our country). Even if governments are trying their damn best (I sure hope they are) explaining to people how the law of supply and demand eventually led to steep price increases, the people wouldn’t listen, let alone understand. And we can't blame them. They only measure the state of the nation by the growling of their stomachs. And believe me, it’s hard to speak to the belly especially if the growling is so loud.

Desperate times call for desperate measures. I know, I know, but let’s not resort to barbarism and other forms of deviltry here. After all, we’re talking about the government, not the Ministry of Magic. While they can make money disappear in one flick of a finger, they can’t pull sacks and sacks of rice from their magic hats! That would be too much to ask. So let’s not take over the streets and throw paint balls on Shell’s building façade. Believe me, whatever you say will just fall on deaf ears. Besides, did you honestly think that the CEOs and COOs would clean it up themselves? No, sweetie, it’s the poor janitor, whose daily earning will remain dormant despite the additional de-painting job you just hurled at him.

Times like these call for frugality, and maybe even a little creativity. Sometimes, we have to go through crunch time so we could learn to look at other assets available under our noses. You see, people now are beginning to take a second look at public transportation. What used to be so eewie and unflattering among social climbers is now a favored way to go from point A to point B. Moms are beginning to see the light in replacing their 60-watt incandescent light bulb with a 13-watt fluorescent lamp. Governments are now considering the commercial consumption of alternative sources of energy that are cheaper, renewable, and earth-friendly. And hopefully my schoolmates in Bene have undertaken a healthier perspective on food intake.

In my recent travels to Ilocos Sur, I’ve learned about the cultural and historical roots of their food and eating habits. Unlike in France and other parts of Europe, eating in this side of the country is driven by the will to survive. They don’t think about the flavors and aromas or what kind of wine would go well with it. They eat because they have to, and they cook whatever they can find in their immediate environment be it an ant, a sparrow, a frog, or a rodent. Whether I had the stomach to try them all would be discussed in another entry in another time.

I’m not saying we should eat our pets, let alone eat our house pests. I’m saying we can look at different alternatives to ease or maybe even avert the growing global demand for rice. In Africa, people eat bananas as a meal staple instead of rice. Not only does it grow abundantly in our country, but it also has a slew of nutritional benefits not found in rice.

It’s true that need is the mother of all inventions. Let’s take this opportunity to shut our mouths, use our heads, and stamp out our debilitating culture of wastefulness. Mass movements will mean nothing unless we collectively adopt a more rational method of using our resources.

just thinking aloud on independence day

6-12-08

1. How ironic is it that today, Independence Day, the banner stories of today’s leading newspapers are about the abduction of media personality Ces Drilon and two others somewhere deep in the jungle of Mindanao.

2. According to the article, the abduction happened on Sunday but was only aired on Tuesday morning on account of Maria Ressa’s appeal to rival networks for caution and restraint in media reportage so as to not endanger the lives of the hostages. Well, well, well. That I didn’t see coming. Here I was thinking that there’s no hope for responsible journalism in this country. Now if they could only extend the same courtesy to subjects other than themselves…

3. A few entries back I remember writing about some members of the media--about their inflated sense of self; about how they stick their haughty noses where they don’t belong; and about how they sometimes twist the truth and angle their stories to fit their scripts.

4. The thing is, technically, we don’t pay these people to go out there every day, scavenge the dirty streets for scoops, and send these stories straight to the television sets of our plush and comfortable living rooms. That being said, I think it’s too much for mere spectators to expect the whole truth to come out of their mouths. I am not saying this because they are part of a company that depends on sponsors/advertisers to thrive in a highly competitive industry. I am saying this because they are also human beings and are therefore subject to human frailty and personal inclinations that make them fallible.

5. Therefore, to say that the media is neutral (in other words “walang kinikilingan at walang prinoprotektahan”) is an overstatement. There is no such thing as free lunch.

6. But of course this is just one side of the story. The problem also lies in the readers and viewers, who generally hold these news reports as sacred doctrines sent forth by a messiah. I am not saying that this is wrong; I'm saying this is scary.
   

7. On second note, despite everything I’ve said against the media companies, deep inside I do admire the people behind them. In fact there were times in my life when I contemplated on what life could have been had I taken that path. I thought maybe if I had the mental fortitude that could stomach the sight of blood streaming from mutilated fingers, decaying carcasses, or government officials shamelessly engaging in illicit political affairs, I’d probably vie for a news reporter slot as well.

8. Unfortunately, I don’t. And I think this is what separates them from spectators like me—courage, guts, and that fervent desire to be there as it happens at whatever cost.
   

9. I guess this is also what I feel when I think about the activists marching on the streets with their closed fists in the air. When I was still working as a corporate slave, I used to look down upon them from the lofty windows of my building and wonder how come these people—who obviously need more money than I do—have so much free time. Surely, those 10,000 people with complete sets of arms and legs can’t all be unemployed, right?

10. But all these ill feelings would usually subside come 6p.m., the time when first-class slaves like me go down from their high horses. It was easier to look at them in the eye when you’re stepping on the same ground. There I saw individual faces—each with different expressions. There I saw each of them as a person and not just a part of a boisterous crowd. I realized that it’s easy to keep an even keel if your stomach is not growling. I thought if I were they and I were hungry too, I’d probably be as angry.

11. By now it’s already a known fact: While I am too catholic to be confrontational, I don’t usually agree with the people around me. It’s my curse. As much as I’d like to be submissive and peace-loving, I couldn’t bring myself to nod as often as I’d like to. I think it’s in my blood. I have been contradicting everyone and challenging fixations until I was 11, before I began to understand the incalculable perks of being diplomatic. Although sometimes (especially when fueled with caffeine or alcohol) I still find myself caught up in heated arguments. I guess it’s a hard habit to break.

12. Point is even if I often find it hard to find common grounds with other people, I do understand that sometimes people do what they do because they think it’s right. And sometimes even if I raise my eyebrows and roll my eyes at what seems ridiculous, I do respect them for giving in to their passions and putting up a good fight.

13. This country is going to the dogs. The evidence is in the newspapers every day. But it is in this political and economic environment that countries breed heroes. This is the exact miserable condition that eventually gives birth to true freedom—freedom to think and act differently, to do the unthinkable and the seemingly stupid and brave its consequences, and to make a choice and stand by it to the very end.

14. The heroes that made today’s Independence Day possible are once the lawbreakers whose great ideas (which were once deemed outrageous) and bold efforts have completely transformed the cultural landscape of this nation. The Katipuneros, the guerillas, the scholars, and the militant priests—most of them didn’t even see the end of the battles they were fighting—had given their lives for something they strongly believed in. They had died even before the fight was over, but that doesn’t mean the battle was not won.

15. To say that no story is worth a reporter’s life is not wrong, but it would be a crime against the scientists and doctors who are now dedicating their lives trying to find the cure for cancer and aids; the astronauts who died in the first few attempts to reach the moon; the soldiers fighting in war-stricken corners of the world; the missionaries who were crucified and beheaded for carrying out charitable and religious missions; Aung San Suu Kyi who was detained for pushing democracy in Burma; and all the unsung Filipino heroes whose failed attempts of revolution didn’t even make it to our history books. Have their efforts and lives been futile just because some of them didn’t live long enough to reap their struggles’ rewards?

16. I am not encouraging imprudence especially in media coverage, but we are what we are because some people in the past decided to put their fears aside and dared to do something big. Not all of them were able to produce the results they’ve intended, nevertheless their efforts were not in vain. A story of courage and audacity—regardless of the ending—always inspires and teaches. If it were able to get one idle ass to move forward, then it has served its purpose. Remember that it only takes one inspired move to change the world.

17. Everything is a choice. You can always choose to be just another face in the crowd and live happily ever after or you can choose to do something no man has ever done and swim against the current.

18. There is no right or wrong choice, though this doesn’t make the decision any easier. But to those who decide to go off the beaten track, whether you get what you want or not (or in the case of Ces, get beheaded or not), the only losers in this game are those who look back and regret.

naisip ko lang...

kanina i was sent to the grocery by my mom to buy a kilo of shrimp. we have visitors coming over tomorrow and my mom was thinking of serving chili shrimp. i don't cook, and so buying ingredients for a certain dish is not really one of my favorite activities. you can just imagine how i stood there transfixed and confused in front of schools of shrimp squirming inside a large aquarium. i didn't know you buy them alive and kicking, literally. oh those poor things. i watched closely while the grocery boy mercilessly scooped them with a fishing net and tossed them into a plastic container. you should have seen them run (or swim) and fight for their lives. some of them even went as far as jumping over the glass edge. those who managed to escape were left to die on the floor, of course.

there were still signs of life even as i was driving home from the grocery. from the driver's seat i could still hear the wriggling and the twisting and the gasping for air. it's almost heartbreaking. for a while i thought the vegan principles border on the extreme, even cultish to some extent. but when i saw how those sea creatures fight for their existence, it made me wonder if nature really meant it to be that way. it made me think if animals are really meant for human consumption. parang ang unfair lang. the rule of the game is survival of the fittest, pero not every creature is equipped with an equal capacity to fight.

kung sa bagay, nung kumakain naman sila ng seaweeds (or whatever it is that shrimps eat), hindi naman sila inirereklamo. siguro nga ganyan lang talaga ang buhay.

kawawang janina

And here I thought beauty pageants are utterly boring, if not entirely foolish.

The last pageant I watched in full was in 1994, the glorious age of Sushmita Sen and Charlene Gonzalez. Imagine such lavish spending made by the Philippine government at the time of great brownouts. But all those dark thoughts suddenly disappeared when Miss India gave a bright and shining answer to the question “What is the essence of a woman?” For a while there I thought I saw a white light beaming from behind her head like a halo.

What is the essence of a woman? Whatever that is I don’t think it can be found within the contest’s rigid system that seeks to give a quintessential definition of beauty and of a woman’s very essence. While I understand that the Miss Universe Pageant only seeks to unite a highly diversified “universe,” it does so by disrespecting differences in race, color, culture, ethnicity, and socio-economic background. Let me explain.

Whenever you watch a beauty contest, doesn’t it remind you of a scene from Star Wars, the part where the military droids prep for attack? Each time I watch these ladies prance around and strut their stuff in front of a million eyes I get scared. It’s like being haunted by a horde of Stepford Wives. They all look so serene and perfect, like not a strand of their hair is out of place. It’s even hard to imagine these girls pooping or even sweating.

Because of a certain standard that the judges and we, the spectators, have unconsciously set in our minds, every contestant looks pretty much the same—same long beautiful hair, same height, same bony face, same waistline, same cup size, same set of even, white teeth, and—because speaking in English in the question and answer portion garners an extra point—same manner of speaking. I even heard there’s a particular school that specializes in training young girls to walk, wave, and talk like supermodels or beauty queens. Brrr. The thought just made me shudder. I would rather watch America’s Next Top Model because at least the ladies there have an ounce of oomph, zing, and personality.

It is this this freakin’ standard that has encouraged these people and everyone else to look the same. I mean how could you set one standard of beauty for all the women in the world? Some have even taken drastic measures to try to recreate themselves into the image and likeness of Barbie. In the Philippines, the fascination with the tall, fair-skinned, and malnourished girls continues. Never mind that this country lies on the equatorial zone and naturally our skin looks sun-kissed all year round. Never mind that the bridges of our Asian noses are naturally not as “high” as our Caucasian counterparts. If here, skin whitening pills have replaced vitamin supplements, in other parts of Asia, Blepharoplasty, the eyelid incision that creates the canthal fold, and breast augmentation have become the latest fashion must-haves. In all parts of the world, except in India, Africa, and South America, eating disorders such as bulimia and anorexia have also become commonplace.

Now that everybody looks like everybody, how then do you distinguish who among the clones deserves the highly coveted crown? Yes, dear Janina, this why they conceived a marvelous thing called the question and answer portion.

I will not state the obvious anymore. The mob has spoken, and the upper crust of the social divide has already hurled a mouthful of expletives. In a country where the majority of the younger work force are call center-trained, not being able to speak in straight English is a mortal sin. But just a few words of caution to the high and mighty: feigning an American accent doesn’t give you any claim to fame. It doesn’t make you a genius, because if it does you wouldn’t be taking in calls at ungodly hours for a relatively higher salary (I say relative on account of miscellaneous expenses like hospital bills).

Sadly, it has been generally acceptable these days for beautiful people to be just that: beautiful. And how easily do they get away with the cruel realities of life by ending up married to powerful politicians and business magnates. Just smile, darling, you don’t need to talk. Laugh all you want but whether we admit it or not, we have bred, nurtured, and encouraged the propagation of the likes of Janina San Miguel. Filipinas are known for their resilience, perseverance, and wisdom and they thrive overtly in almost every corner of the world. But we’d rather put the crown on Janina’s head because unlike them, her physical features fit perfectly well into the global standard. GMA-7 came to her defense by implying that nobody has to be smart in a Miss World competition because judges only look at a contestant’s stance. After all, it’s merely a popularity contest, right? Whatever.

But I think to say that she's “bobo” just because she struggled with the universal language is an overstatement. Although when I think about it, if she answered in Filipino, what would she have said? But the thing is I don’t think anyone should equate intelligence with English proficiency. I used to have a classmate who can talk in English for hours without making any sense (and yeah, he flunked logic, took summer classes). On the other side of the ring are very talented regional poets who could not even pronounce “angel” with the proper phonetics.

But what makes Janina a rare exception is the simple fact that she is a beauty queen, and by being so she has a very rare opportunity to represent the country before the world. Most of the aspirants think only of the glamour, glitz, and the post-pageant showbiz career that come with being beautiful, completely overlooking the hard work that must be done away from the limelight. As they say, with privilege comes great responsibility—and I’m not just talking about taking regular doses of beauty sleep. Maybe she’s not “bobo,” just a little irresponsible and naïve. But if she’s wise, she should have known that nobody goes to war without sufficient training and powerful armaments. And if she felt she’s not ready yet, I mean what’s a few more years of waiting? After all, she’s only seventeen years old, right? And we will probably see more of her because as she said, this is just her first beauty pageant ever.

Meaning there could be more. OMG.

Fine, let’s talk about the freakin’ weather.

The January air breathes a winter’s breath. Without the promise of Christmas, the gentle breeze is reduced to that—a cold, meaningless, and distant air wandering aimlessly, falling in the way of others. Now devoid of holiday jeers and jitters, the city hums a silent tune. Everything’s quiet, as if a million secrets are being passed around in between whispers. The midnight sky hangs heavily too. And without the silver and gold baubles, the cradler of the stars has become nothing but a blanket of black…and blue. It is true that time has a way of expanding in the cold. But tonight is the last night of the month; tomorrow should mean sleep.

In the dead of the night, the January air heaves a cold winter sigh.

***

The term is acclimatization. In physiology, it is the adaptation of an animal or plant to the changes in climate or environment such as light, temperature, or altitude. If there’s one thing I’m proud of about being a Filipino, it’s our cockroach-like ability to acclimate. Ashes will return to ashes, and dust will return to dust—but the Filipinos? They will most likely find a means to live on and procreate. With the resilience and tenacity like that, nobody deserves the world’s wealth better than they do.

Things have started to change lately though.

***

Now let's talk about the political, social, and economic climate.

Recently, there had been so much debate about whether the Philippine economy is really headed for stability or not. After intimate conversations with people in the know, I have learned that the true status of the Philippine economy depends on the bearer of the information. I’m talking about the media. They are mostly underpaid but surprisingly, they are the ones who are ruling the country’s flow of consumption. They have become so powerful that with the slightest twitch they can easily manipulate the ancient law of supply and demand. And I'm not just talking about Kris Aquino or Lucy Torres endorsing whitening soaps.

Take for example the explosive war between ABS-CBN and GMA over TV ratings. Much has already been said about integrity and competence, but come on, what are TV ratings for anyway? Isn’t it just an advertiser’s cue on when and where to place their ads? TV ratings only measure the number of people hooked up at a TV station at a particular time. It DOES NOT measure the quality of the TV shows. If it does, then there wouldn't be room for shows like Wowowee, Eat Bulaga, and scores of badly dubbed Koreanovelas. There wouldn't be good-looking commercial models making awkward movements or crying crocodile tears in cheaply produced telenovelas.

This media war is also a clear depiction of the kind of democracy we have here in the Philippines. Democracy here is just a politically correct way of saying “majority wins.” In a country where the majority is underinformed if not totally ignorant, the rule of the majority is nothing more than a mob rule. How else would you explain the rise to power of popular actors and political neophytes?

How much power should really be bestowed upon people? Is the majority the ultimate judge of the rightness and wrongness of things? Just because a great number of people believe in something, is it enough to make that something legal? And just because it’s legal, does it make it right? Maybe. But sadly, it only happens in a civilized society where the majority is educated and capable of making intelligent decisions.

Let’s move on to the print media. An Inquirer headline read: “GMA Most Corrupt President, Says Poll.” I’m probably not the best person to comment on this one, let alone give serious political commentaries. Unlike my colleagues, I haven’t been a good citizen lately, consciously passing up the chance to read newspapers or watch news programs for insignificant pursuits. But if a formidable newspaper company like the Inquirer can make powerful headlines out of perception surveys, then I guess it’s perfectly safe for me to share my views on the matter in my own blog.

I’m not really particular about the credibility of the agencies behind these polls. As to how they get funded—or how come out of a million surveys no one I know had been asked to take part in it—that’s none of my business. My only concern is what are they getting out of it? So we know that most Filipinos hate their president—anything else? Has it shed light on anything new now that we have exact figures to back this up? Why does a perception survey deserve a space in the front page, let alone, a banner story?

I’m just wondering…how many of those who answered have given a valid argument? How many are literate? How many have read the constitution? How many have taken specific measures to investigate or challenge the widely held accusation? How many of them had genuine efforts to reach political enlightenment? What was the political climate at the time of the survey? How many actually know the Webster meaning of the word “corrupt”? And just because majority of the people think this way, do we have to hold it as a doctrine?

I mean I don’t know how corrupt GMA is, but I don’t think GMA or any Philippine president has ever surpassed Erap in terms of corruption. I mean mansions, women, gambling, excessive drinking—how many of the seven deadly sins has he not committed yet?

Another columnist, whose name I’m not going to mention, wrote:

“In a good economy, everybody would be employed, everybody would have enough to eat, and everybody would live in decent homes. Just one look at all those squatter colonies and at the unemployment rate and you know that something is very bad in the Philippine economy. Filipinos are working abroad in greater numbers not because of a policy or encouragement by the government. They are forced to go there because there are no jobs here at home. Who made it that way? Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo.”

I am no fan of GMA, but this blame-the-government-because-there’s-no-food-on-the-table attitude is really absurd. We have heard a lot of rags-to-riches stories; we all know that poverty is not an excuse for failure. Check out jobstreet, or even our good old classified ads, you’ll see thousands of positions opening up every day. Call center companies are even giving big incentives to both recruiters and new recruits. I’m not saying that the working condition here is ideal, but the increasing unemployment rate stems out not from the fact that there are no jobs. There are jobs but there are not enough competent people to fill them. There are jobs, but most people would rather work abroad because for the same blue collar job, they get paid a little higher. Only a few has a capacity for ambition. Only a few has a burning desire to advance themselves professionally; most exist just to survive.

“Prices were much lower during the administrations of Presidents Ferdinand Marcos, Corazon Aquino, Joseph Estrada -- even that of Fidel Ramos.”

This is so obvious. During the time of Marcos, Aquino, Ramos, and Estrada, the global demand for oil is not that much. China and India were not yet the powerhouse that they are today. If the demand is weak, the prices are much lower. Consequently, the prices of the goods we buy in the supermarket also enjoy a lower price. Another factor is the peso-dollar exchange rates. We used to enjoy a twenty-something to a dollar rate until Erap spent his first two years in Malacanang.

“The main prop to the claim that the Philippines has a “strong economy” is the escalating exchange rate of the peso against the dollar. The peso-dollar exchange rate is going up not because the peso is strong but because the dollar is weak.”

Wrong again. If you’ve been reading the business section of your own paper, you’d know that the stock market all over the world had just hit an all-time low because of fears of a US recession. It means that much of the world’s economy (including Europe's and Japan's) is dependent on the US economy--and the Philippine economy is no exception. If the peso is not as strong as they are claiming it to be, then a steep downward movement of the US Dollar could reverse any hint of progress made by the Philippine peso. In a nutshell, a weak peso would not withstand a downward US economy.

“If Ms Arroyo learned anything in the school of economics, it should have been that in a nation with a healthy economy, everybody would be prosperous, there would be no poor people. But about half of our population consider themselves poor, millions have little to eat, and young children are forced to commit suicide because of poverty.”

This is really superficial. It's like saying, "if it's not black, then it's white." Poor people exist even in first-world countries. And when children are forced to commit suicide because of poverty, the first thing that one needs to keep in check are these children’s mental and emotional health, and the first that you should blame are the parents. A lot of people are struggling to survive, but only one in a hundred commits suicide. Of course it would be ideal if a country is wealthy enough to feed and clothe everybody without requiring anyone to lift a finger. I don't want to sound matapobre, but let's face it, while there are exceptionally talented and hardworking Filipinos, madami ring hindi. In short, to borrow a simplistic phrase from Bob Ong, "maraming bobong pilipino." These are the poor people I know. These "poor" people do not pay taxes either because they don't have an income or it's too little to be taxed. And since we don't get contributions from them anymore, the least that they can do is to stop asking for subsidies straight from the taxpayers' pockets. There is no such thing as free lunch. Instead of staging rallies in mendiola or ayala avenue for a meager carpenter's meal, why don't you just make yourself useful? Why don't you go out into the world with a sense of aspiration?

Much has been said about freedom and responsibility but it seems that none of the point got across. There’s a world of difference between being radical and free and being spoiled and whiny. And I think this time, the media has gone too far.