No Turning Back (?)

31 december 2007
makati city

This year dawned not with a bang but with a heavy heart. After spending nights gorging on cans of coke and packs of Marlboro over a videoke with friends I’d lost connection to, I was forced to cut down my stay in our province, throwing away my much-anticipated VL into vacuum. From this, I had known that my year was off to a bad start.

But it did not turn out as bad as I was expecting. In fact, blessings came after the other, thanks for not being expectant of something I longed for. After going ballistic and running amok for not getting the position I was salivating after, I just shrugged my shoulder and let things go off. Unearth the antagonism that had been harboring in me, and view things in rose-colored glasses. This was so un-me, crediting this transformation to Tina, Ayin and the Vukes who sucked up all my angst during those times.

A “not-so-me” has been very hard to live up. Up to know, remnants of the past continue to hound me, like a specter out to bring me back to what I was. Of course this is not to say that I am living out of control, that I am pretending to be someone I wish I am (Mr. Ripley? J). In fact, it is still the very “me,” minus the negative vibes.

Soon, my so-called career skyrocketed, which has elevated Paulo Coelho, the genius who declared “When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.” to a Hall of something. Now, I have become a certified Coelhian (I just declared I am), pondering on his cute lines that do not only touch hearts, but also pinch, bludgeon and slaughter souls.

“Be brave. Take risks. Nothing can substitute experience.” again from Coelho, my new-found spiritual guru. That’s exactly what I have done in the past months as my work was not on a smooth sailing. Karir! Good thing, I was able to turn the reddest of the red to the greenest of the green, enjoying each moment unleashing something from the team I am focusing on.

All about work – that’s what 2007 for me. A career move whatsoever, I was deprived of news on print and broadcast which I could cite with a full articulation before. Sometimes it is a good thing, bearing out the cliché “Ignorance is bliss.” I have become bored of my social life I am starting to enjoy it. I’ve adopted the “office-home” routine, with occasional hanging out in Origin.

Days before the year ends, I was able to talk to some good old friends who have remained faithful to das Gesetz. That was the first time, for this year I was able to think through without thinking much about work. Under the glint of the moon with the usual packs of Marlboro and liters of coke, I slowly sucked the thick black smoke up into my lungs.

Red Angel

Red Angel
(for Nic and friends)

Edel Garcellano

They must have hoped
through the months
for a sign from the sky:
in the arabesque of leaves
under their feet,
in the blast of wind
over their heads...

But the gods were merciless!
Their prayers were like stones
Dropping into the abyss ---
and they couldn't eveh hear
the sound of their empty falling!

They would be no miracle?
and their feeble sighs
would resonate
from the secret chambers
of their hearts:
Why do revolutionaries die?

Still, the gods would madly laugh,
as if all should never dare question
the law of the universe...
The morning after,
the slow rain pattered
on ten rooftops.
The weather had been uncertain
the past few weeks.

But one thing
they were damned sure of ---
nature was taking its course.
They had finally read
the writing on the wall
of the universe.

So they dutifully gathered
at his bedside
to let the world know
that Ka Monico Atienza,
red angel,
of their subliminal joys and fears,
lived a just, heroic life
and they would now,
orphans of his presence,
take on the grim task
that he
unwillingly abandoned
for that light
beyond his body's shell,
and they, who would follow
his incandescent destiny,
would salute him
who was truly the miracle itself
for resisting,
for persisting to live
humanly and meaningfully
in this age
of tyrants
and luminous barbarians.

free burma

The Disinherited

lifted from edel garcellano's blog (www.theworksofedelgarcellano.wordpress.com)

We push our wooden lives on daily nightmare.

The sun perches on our backs; moon rakesinto our eyes;

the earth knifes beneath

like sharpened scythe: silently we perish….

Our carts of dream drag through the mists

gaining the caves & dead-ends of our task;

Nobles expose their hearts (O Words, not Deeds!)

& blindly each dawn goodnight we greet.

The Civil Guards, bulls & ruthless, stampede

down our suspect fangs & narrow faces,

bereaving us in a palmless, whimful siege.

The law, after all, guards from menace and disease.

(Our land of vision is hollow, our voices dead)

At the Court of Justice the human balance tips:

“Throw for lack of identity, bastards of the mill!”

We’re finally stamped of our birthmark filth….

The cell stares, yawning exile & decision

as obscene faces strike the ruler’s imprecision,

selecting from among the driftwood of our pains,

like writing on the wall the questions reverent.

Nothing, none at all, save fragments of memories…

O have we become stones, numerous & still?

To sleep, thus dream? Pray, for centuries we did!
& blankly we smash the bars, rioting to live!

From Voices of Violence, 1971

July 2nd, 2006 at 9:59 am

(POETRY OF EDEL GARCELLANO, selected by G.Y. Guillermo)

Can't Get Enough of You Baby...

22 september, 2007
makati city

still can't get enough of akaw anvasion day. i've just finished checking the pics at http://www.batangbaler.net/ and the video of kapatid ni amy in youtube. i'm sort of thinking that life should have always been like that, full of surprises and great performances.

anyway, here's the finale of akaw invasion 2, an outstanding performance (kahit na lasing) of the newly formed kapatid ni amy. enjoy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cb5znLjw6ak

Behind the Scenes of Akaw Invasion 2

sept 16, 2007
makati city

it's over a week now but i can't still get over it. a whirr has been taking refuge in my ear drums up to know, courtesy of the fusion and synthesis of drums and guitars and shouts that clouded puple haze bar last 08 september.

as usual, i came late. several bands already performed when the battered cab, which crisscrossed the interweaving roads from serendra to purple haze, discharged me. with no composure left in my attempt to move faster, i bumped into a thick hard wall named abay z.

abay z and i resigned to the fact that we don't have talent in squeezing our carcass in the thickness of throng, very un-ladyleigh-like; hence, we tried to content ourselves sitting outside, smoking like fiend while blathering whatnot. of course, when you're with abay z, nostalgia is surging like lava.

until we realised that our harking back to Mrs Bitancor's do-re-mi-mga-tanga-mga-usol ate much of our time, i steeled my resolve and hurled everything that blocked my way. still, else was so near yet so far as phalanx of pangks, and rakistas took over the center isle. i could not move when i was trapped amid these pangkitos as there's a big possibility that a body or two, and/or blood would just fly right after my head. the thought of being squeezed in moshpit melted away my doggedness.

good thing the band in front was a thing to watch; otherwise, people might see my teeth clattered and my chin bobbed. at last, i was able to push through the hardness of the pangkitos and went right in front of else who was so busy that abay z and i suspected that her heart already inflated to leigh's mass. i was able to recruit lor to going down as we recognise the we aren't anymore belong to the age group (ouch!).

abay z + lor equals never-ending chikahan, from lor's independence and theory about love to my call centre escapades. we went to figaro to drown our sobriety over a cup of coffee.

going back to purple haze, everything was still in normalcy. pangks and rakers were still headbanging, mixing their hairs up with beer and sweat. we decided to push ourselves in to the crowd, to once and for all enjoy the night which was the purpose of this in the first place.

what can i say, all were really on the top form. with their performances, they have indelibly sealed the fact that rock and roll is alive and kicking in baler. no band wasted time, the stage was able to serve its purpose.

the finale was kapatid ni amy, a song composed by else's kuya. so unpretentious and inspiring it was that it literally brought the house down. everyone was singing, no one was pasaway. it has drawn us together, making us one.

Rock en Roll

07 Sept 2007
makati city

By this time tomorrow, I would probably be in the thickness of the rocking and rolling Akkaw throng. With can of Coke squeezed in my right hand and pack of Marlboro sandwich between my fingers, I might be dancing or headbanging or shrieking to the top of my lungs to the tune of the homegrown music of Baler.

Thrill has been enveloping me these past days as I am really looking forward to this event. I just realised during one of my sould-searching moments that I have been neglected of social life for quite a long time, after assuming a quality specialist work. It's kinda raw to think that the party-goer/barfly in me has already entered in the face of oblivion. This might be a sign of extinction.

Gone are the days when nothing mattered but concerts and gigs. I am now in the phase of "Been there, done that" attitude. However, I may be too fool to let to-die-for concerts pass, but this one I won't definitely miss.

disappeared

By Conrado de Quiros
Inquirer
Last updated 01:38am (Mla time)
08/08/2007

It was raining hard toward noon last Monday and they were only a handful of men and women. But that did not deter Edita Burgos and kin and friends from marching from Santo Domingo Church to Welcome Rotunda to remind the world of their search for, well, someone they had not seen for the last 100 days. And to remind the world as well that failing to find him, they would not let go until they found the truth about him or found justice for him. By the time they got to Welcome Rotunda, amid the variously blank, sympathetic and hostile stares of the drivers and passengers of cars and jeepneys, the last belonging to those who minded being inconvenienced by traffic as they dragged their bedraggled carcasses to work, the heavens wept copiously.

Most of the marchers, who had not brought umbrellas, the skies earlier that day promising a good day, kept on, finding it still a good day to do what they had to do. The rains had come at last after having kept away, like justice, from this spot of earth for a long time. In any case, being drenched in furious rain was just another adversity, albeit a minor one, in the struggle to find the precious things that we had lost in this country.

Last Monday was the 100th day since Jonas Burgos was dragged out of a mall in Fairview by armed men while he shouted for the world to help him. To mark it, the marchers wore masks of Jonas’ face. The idea was for 100 persons to wear those masks, but at the height of the rain the persons who stood beneath the Rotunda obelisk could not have been more than 30. No matter. Whether 30 or 100, they could not have pressed their cause more ardently than Leonidas’ 300. Theirs was the same heroic stand against seemingly impossible odds, and barring anyone betraying them, which is not likely, they will probably fare in the end better than Leonidas himself.

Edita Burgos spoke before the gathering, while the face of her son in black-and-white looked back at her from the faces of those who listened under the gray skies and lash of wind and rain. It might have been a scene from some surreal movie drained of color, with only Jonas’ cardboard face glowing whitely against the unsaturated background.

Edita (she is one very brave mother) thanked the people gathered there and those who were not there but who worked tirelessly to not make the world forget about her son. Though bowed by grief over the absence of Jonas, and the fear of the tragic fate that might already have befallen him, she took comfort in the thought that in his absence, Jonas had taken on a bigger presence than he had while he was there. In his silence, his words rang more loudly than they did when he had spoken them. In his abductors’ attempt to thwart his dreams, they had become an irresistible force demanding to be fulfilled.

I listened to her and realized how deeply we owed certain families more than others. Families who have given up so much, not the least the lives of those they held dearest to them, to give life to this country. There were many of them during Marcos’ declared martial law, there are many of them in Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo’s undeclared martial law.

Such a family is the Burgoses. I cannot say I know what they have been through, though I myself became an activist ages ago. I cannot know the depths of fear and deprivation they went through when Joe was fighting what seemed a lonely battle against Marcos, a battle destined only to end in failure or death. I cannot know what depths of grief and deprivation they are going through today, when Jonas has disappeared after fighting what seemed like a lonely battle to uplift the lot of his fellow farmers, a disappearance of a hundred days that could only bode the worst of possibilities.
That is a debt that can never be repaid even after the worst is over for this country.

The Burgoses would tell me that Ferdinand Marcos’ military also branded Jonas’ father, Joe, uncannily in almost the same terms. But then I remembered that Marcos’ military also branded Ninoy Aquino a communist, or at least a communist sympathizer or New People's Army coddler, following Marcos’ proposition that a Left-Right conspiracy was out to wreck his “revolution from the center.” There is something uncanny, too, about the source of this country’s bane posturing about being the country’s savior. History is full of surprises for those who do not heed it, although they are mere repetitions for those who do.

I looked at the refraction of Jonas’ face in the many faces that wore his mask, and I thought, yes, like Ninoy, "hindi ka nag-iisa" -- you are not alone. We are with you, or you are with all of us. We are in you and you are in all of us. Your hopes and your dreams are not yours alone to harbor, the grief and loss your kin must feel are not theirs alone to carry. I do not now remember if the heavens wept as well when this country escorted Ninoy to his resting place, but I remember that it was August, too, a time to bury the august dead.

More than that, I looked at the replication of Jonas’ face in the many faces that wore his mask, and I thought, more than "hindi ka nag-iisa," "hindi ka naiiba" -- you are not different from me, you are me. You are all of us. What happened to you can’t just happen to all of us, it is happening to all of us. As in the stark past of martial law, protest, defiance and worst of all helping others have become heinous crimes deserving of death, and those of us who are guilty of them are presumed to invite it. I remembered, while the skies wept and the FX vans sloshed through the puddles of brown water and the handful of men and women lined up with their Jonas faces before the hooded cameras, what a long procession there was for Ninoy then.

And I wondered what else in this country has disappeared.

10 Reasons Why We Should VOTE KABATAAN PARTYLIST

1. KABATAAN ito, kapatid!
Ang Kabataan Partylist ay natatanging partylist na itinatag, pinamumunuan, at itinataguyod ng mga kabataan para sa interes nating mga kabataan.

2. STRENGTH IN NUMBERS
May mga chapters ang Kabataan Partylist mula Luzon hanggang Mindanao. Ni-uunite nito ang mga kabataan ng sangkapuluan hindi lang sa kongreso kundi sating mga paaralan, komunidad at pagawaan. Kinikilala din nito ang lakas ng ating pinagsamang tinig at boses sa Mababang Kapulungan maging sa lansangan.

3. Because IT IS RIGHT!
Yes, Education is a Right! Iginigiit at itinataguyod ng Kabataan Partylist ang karapatan nating kabataan sa edukasyon sa pamamagitan ng dagdag na pondo sa edukasyon at kagyat na pagpapatigil ng tumitinding komersyalisasyon ng edukasyon.

4. PANG-KABUHAYAN Showcase!
Isinusulong din ng Kabataan Partylist ang pagkakaroon ng disenteng trabaho at kabuhayan hindi lamang para sa mga kabataan kundi para sa lahat ng mamamayang Pilipino.

5. STAR STUDDED ITO!
Who else kundi sina Papa Dennis Trillo at Ate Angel Locsin ang nag-eendose ng Kabataan Partylist sa kanilang video sa You Tube! Tulad nila ay sumusuporta din sa mga itinataguyod ng Kabataan Partylist sina Dino ng Brownman Revival, Datu's Tribe, Ciara Sotto, Marvin Agustin, Paolo Ballesteros, at our very own Atom Araullo!!! O diba, i-star i-studded! (para mapanood, pumunta lang sa www.kabataanparty. com)

6. TALENTADO TAYO!
Kinikilala ng Kabataan Partylist na mahalagang pagyamanin din ang sports, kultura, at sining para sa pagpapaunlad ng Kabataang Pilipino. Para naman hindi nasasayang ang ating mga angking kakayahan at talento, di ba?

7. PEACE, MAN!
Sinusuportahan ng Kabataan Partylist ang mga batayang karapatan ng bawat Pilipino na mamuhay sa isang lipunang mapayapa at malaya mula sa krimen, pagkalulong sa droga, giyera, militarisasyon, peligro sa kapaligiran, dekadenteng kultura, prostitusyon, kagutuman, at diskriminasyon sa kasarian, edad, kapansan, at relihiyon.

8. SERVE THE PEOPLE!
Kinikilala ng Kabataan Partylist ang papel nating mga kabataan sa pagbabago ng mundo. Isang pagbabagong higit na makabuluhan kung ating ilalaan sa paglingkod sa bayan at sa lahat ng sektor (manggagawa, magsasaka, maralitang tagalunsod, pambansang minorya, atbp) na matagal nang ipinagkakait ng isang maayos na pamumuhay. Kaya't hindi mawawala ang battlecry nitong Serve the People!

9. PAG-IBIG!
Ipinagtatanggol ng Kabataan Partylist ang PAG-IBIG! at debosyon sa Inang Bayan sa pamamagitan ng pagbabantay sa ating kalayaan at respeto sa pambansang patrimonya at soberanya.

10. TAYO ANG PAG-ASA NG BAYAN! Dapat may SAY na tayo!
Titiyakin natin na ang mga kabataan ay makikinabang at makakalahok sa lahat ng aspeto ng pamumuno ng gobyerno at pagdedesisyon ng mga kinatawan ng pamahalaan. Dahil tayo ang pag-asa ng bayan, sa ATIN ang KINABUKASAN, kaya nararapat lamang na may SAY tayo sa kung anong klaseng kinabukasan ang dapat na mapunta sa atin.

Kabataan, Mag-aral, Maglingkod, Makibaka!
Tayo ang Pag-asa! Tayo ang Kinabukasan!
IBOTO! KABATAAN PARTYLIST!

VOTE Kabataan Party!

Novelist Kurt Vonnegut dies at age 84

By CHRISTIAN SALAZAR,
Associated Press Writer



NEW YORK - Kurt Vonnegut, the satirical novelist who captured the absurdity of war and questioned the advances of science in darkly humorous works such as "Slaughterhouse- Five" and "Cat's Cradle," died Wednesday. He was 84. Vonnegut, who often marveled that he had lived so long despite his lifelong smoking habit, had suffered brain injuries after a fall at his Manhattan home weeks ago, said his wife, photographer Jill Krementz.

The author of at least 19 novels, many of them best-sellers, as well as dozens of short stories, essays and plays, Vonnegut relished the role of a social critic. He lectured regularly, exhorting audiences to think for themselves and delighting in barbed commentary against the institutions he felt were dehumanizing people."I will say anything to be funny, often in the most horrible situations," Vonnegut, whose watery, heavy-lidded eyes and unruly hair made him seem to be in existential pain, once told a gathering of psychiatrists.

A self-described religious skeptic and freethinking humanist, Vonnegut used protagonists such as Billy Pilgrim and Eliot Rosewater as transparent vehicles for his points of view. He also filled his novels with satirical commentary and even drawings that were only loosely connected to the plot. In "Slaughterhouse- Five," he drew a headstone with the epitaph: "Everything was beautiful, and nothing hurt."But much in his life was traumatic, and left him in pain.

Despite his commercial success, Vonnegut battled depression throughout his life, and in 1984, he attempted suicide with pills and alcohol, joking later about how he botched the job.His mother had succeeded in killing herself just before he left for Germany during World War II, where he was quickly taken prisoner during the Battle of the Bulge. He was being held in Dresden when Allied bombs created a firestorm that killed an estimated tens of thousands of people in the city."The firebombing of Dresden explains absolutely nothing about why I write what I write and am what I am," Vonnegut wrote in "Fates Worse Than Death," his 1991 autobiography of sorts.But he spent 23 years struggling to write about the ordeal, which he survived by huddling with other POW's inside an underground meat locker labeled slaughterhouse- five.

The novel, in which Pvt. Pilgrim is transported from Dresden by time-traveling aliens from the planet Tralfamadore, was published at the height of the Vietnam War, and solidified his reputation as an iconoclast."He was sort of like nobody else," said Gore Vidal, who noted that he, Vonnegut and Norman Mailer were among the last writers around who served in World War II."

He was imaginative; our generation of writers didn't go in for imagination very much. Literary realism was the general style. Those of us who came out of the war in the 1940s made it sort of the official American prose, and it was often a bit on the dull side. Kurt was never dull."Vonnegut was born on Nov. 11, 1922, in Indianapolis, a "fourth-generation German-American religious skeptic Freethinker, " and studied chemistry at Cornell University before joining the Army.

When he returned, he reported for Chicago's City News Bureau, then did public relations for General Electric, a job he loathed. He wrote his first novel, "Player Piano," in 1951, followed by "The Sirens of Titan," "Canary in a Cat House" and "Mother Night," making ends meet by selling Saabs on Cape Cod.Critics ignored him at first, then denigrated his deliberately bizarre stories and disjointed plots as haphazardly written science fiction.

But his novels became cult classics, especially "Cat's Cradle" in 1963, in which scientists create "ice-nine," a crystal that turns water solid and destroys the earth.Many of his novels were best-sellers. Some also were banned and burned for suspected obscenity. Vonnegut took on censorship as an active member of the PEN writers' aid group and the American Civil Liberties Union. The American Humanist Association, which promotes individual freedom, rational thought and scientific skepticism, made him its honorary president.

His characters tended to be miserable anti-heros with little control over their fate. Pilgrim was an ungainly, lonely goof. The hero of "God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater" was a sniveling, obese volunteer fireman. Vonnegut said the villains in his books were never individuals, but culture, society and history, which he said were making a mess of the planet. "We probably could have saved ourselves, but we were too damned lazy to try very hard ... and too damn cheap," he once suggested carving into a wall on the Grand Canyon, as a message for flying-saucer creatures.

He retired from novel writing in his later years, but continued to publish short articles. He had a best-seller in 2005 with "A Man Without a Country," a collection of his nonfiction, including jabs at the Bush administration ("upper-crust C-students who know no history or geography") and the uncertain future of the planet. He called the book's success "a nice glass of champagne at the end of a life."

In recent years, Vonnegut worked as a senior editor and columnist at "In These Times." Editor Joel Bleifuss said he had been trying recently to get Vonnegut to write something more for the magazine, but was unsuccessful. "He would just say he's too old and that he had nothing more to say. He realized, I think, he was at the end of his life," Bleifuss said.

Vonnegut, who had homes in Manhattan and the Hamptons in New York, adopted his sister's three young children after she died. He also had three children of his own with his first wife, Ann Cox, and later adopted a daughter, Lily, with his second wife, the noted photographer Jill Krementz. Vonnegut once said that of all the ways to die, he'd prefer to go out in an airplane crash on the peak of Mount Kilimanjaro. He often joked about the difficulties of old age. "When Hemingway killed himself he put a period at the end of his life; old age is more like a semicolon," Vonnegut told The Associated Press in 2005.

"My father, like Hemingway, was a gun nut and was very unhappy late in life. But he was proud of not committing suicide. And I'll do the same, so as not to set a bad example for my children

The Green Lantern in Me

Hehehe...Try this one, I'm afraid I'm a villain :)


Your results:
You are Green Lantern

Green Lantern 85% Robin 75% Spider-Man 70% Superman 65% Supergirl 60% Wonder Woman 60% The Flash 60% Catwoman 60% Hulk 55% Iron Man 55% Batman 15%

Hot-headed. You have strong will power and a good imagination.

Click here to take the Superhero Personality Test

Scylla and Charybdis

12 April 2006
Metrica, Manila


With four blogs I’ve vowed to maintain, I’m steeled in my resolve that from now on, weeks would never pass without any entry or at least fillers to them. There’s no heart-splintering to me than seeing my blogs in state of vacuity. Panic and paranoia it has been causing me; it is as if I’m bowing to the challenge of Stephen King who stated in his “On Writing” that “If God gives you something you can do, why in God’s name wouldn’t you do it?”

However, seldom can I finish articles. Most of them remain incomplete, already mottling with age in my frayed notebook. Although lots of ideas have been constantly playing in my head, I can hardly take up writing them again as I’m afraid I might not be able to put heart and soul and justice to them. Reading these unfinished writings is like watching Lorna Tolentino, they’re good yet they’re lacking of emotion.

Gone are the days when I’d just clack my keyboard and the words would fire off like wayward missiles. A cup of coffee or two, a pack of Marlboro and Nirvana or GnR or Indigo Girls on the background were all I needed before to weave words, enabling me to carry out a thousand-word article in three hours. Today, I have to pass through the ritual of plugging socket in my nose, wringing my brain until it bleeds and trickling buckets of sweat before I can produce a paragraph that can’t even make a single strand of hair raise.

As to what has caused my impasse is still a conundrum. Oftentimes, I point my finger at my overindulgence on coffee, coke and cigarette. Yet this could be because of the age, or dementia or anything that I could easily cite as a convincing alibi.

There are a lot of possibilities. Yet, while mulling over, words are just strutting in front of me, waiting to be picked up. They’re freely floating, waiting to be of service to make a story, a poem or an article ennoble the beauty and madness of life. That is the irony of it: they’re free but remain dormant unless you have the guts to use them. Your fear is that they would become less magical, less powerful or totally futile as soon as you employ them. You’re terrified at the thought of failing them. Because according to the British novelist Samuel Butler, the rule is “we have got to live with them and must make the best and not the worst of them.”

But no matter what, we have to live with the words. That is why, I’m firm that I would keep my four blogs. At least, through them, I’m in no doubt I’d be a good neighbor with words. The only thing is that I’ve to make use of them properly. Otherwise, I would produce nothing but a trash.

E-mode

07 april 2007
makati city




If Jessica Zafra has Synchronicity of The Police as her riposte to the corny surveys “What’s the album that has changed/shaped your life?”, I would definitely single out the Eraserheads. I’m sure everybody in my generation would do anyway, but for an angst-ridden, zits-filled youth who thought that locking himself in his bedroom for a week because Kurt Cobain pulled the trigger of shotgun in his mouth was the ultimate expression of being cool, everything abruptly changed when the Ultraelectromagneticpop surfaced.

I was among those who dared to skip classes to catch videos of Kurt Cobain smashing his guitar into smithereens or Axle Rose doing somersault in his concert with his white skimpy cycling shorts. For us, wearing torn jeans, black shirt with black nail polish was the “in” thing. Failure to do so would mean you’re not cool, or worse, hip-hop, a brand which all of us tried to steer clear of. I was in my “I-hate-myself-I-wanna-die” attitude when Tindahan ni Aling Nena, Toyang, Pare Ko and Ligaya knocked superficial pop from the airwaves and the charts. Instantly, I fell in love with the band and their songs.

Almost spontaneously, I erased the nail polish, unearthed my white and colored shirts, put my old tired boots back into my shoe rack and bought my chucks. I was in complete metamorphosis.

But beyond my makeover, I was spared from learning by rote the entire lines of Estranged, November Rain, and Metal Militia. Nothing’s more mortifying than being pulled up when you’re in top form shrieking the songs of Nirvana, Metallica, Guns & Roses, etc.

Being cool wasn’t measured; I wouldn’t effort to fit in to any crowd or group anymore. There’s no requirement whatsoever, you just had to appreciate the music. I developed the “I-Don’t-Care” stance, as long as I was enjoying what I was doing. Just like Eheads, they never cared nor bothered how some people, even a senator, critiqued and demeaned their songs. For them, these were all for pure, clean fun.


And so Eheads had been my constant companion. Never was I bored listening to them as their music was of great diversity. They worked both in the underground and mainstream with a mix of alternative, pop, rock, reggae, synth rock and other genres. From the first thing in the morning up to the last minute of the day, my ears were all glued to their songs.

Of all the Eheads songs, it has been “Wag Kang Matakot” I’ve enjoyed immensely. I’m sure the hopeless romantic organisms can identify with me. Just hearing the first strum was enough to make my innards coil, no kidding. There were nights I’d just turn off the lights, and listen to the song until I dozed off. This went on for months that it became my lullaby. Until my mom saw our electric bill.

Summer was of particular kick. I bugged my mom to let me spend my vacation in Manila so as to witness Eheads demonstrate their greatness on stage. We squashed our carcass into the thickness of the crowd, rubbing elbows with the other members of the cult the Eheads successfully yet unintentionally established. We religiously parked ourselves along the flowerbox of Shakey’s in front of UST just to catch a glimpse of the band regularly performing at Mayric’s.

That’s how I got attached to Ely, Raimund, Buddy and Marcus. They became my life, the center of my universe. Just imagine how shattered I was when the news of their breakup reached me in mid-March 2002. The reasons were unknown by then, and we had nothing but mere speculations. But one thing is clear for me, that life would never be the same again.

In deed, life was never be the same again. Until now, I cannot identify a band that can be on a par with Eheads. I really miss the Eheads.

***Lesson: it is not advisable to play Eheads in the morning of Black Saturday.

Things that we should know by heart

08 april 2007
makati

Choosing for something to write about is never been an easy for me. As a feelingerong-writer, I can’t just jot down my rambling thoughts, organize them, and presto, I’ve a magnum opus I can proudly display. Unlike before, I’ve to make my brain bleed to be able to cook up something that is somewhat within acceptable limits.

While thinking of a topic, I stumbled upon Jessica Zafra’s entry in her blog regarding the relationship in the office, work-related, that is. This is of particular significance as it tries to shed light to the tricky situations in the office.

Anyway, here’s the entire article. Please make sure to know these points by heart so that the next time we make excuses, they would be flawed-free.


Tough at the top


Overworked, mistreated and underappreciated? Think you're the only one with a right to complain? Think again. Mira Katbamna reveals 10 things your boss hates about you

Monday April 2, 2007
The Guardian

Go on, admit it: you hate your boss. You do. The way they accost you with: "It'll just take five minutes" as you're trying to leave. The way they smile patronisingly when they read your appraisal request for more training. Just them having power over you for eight hours every day is enough to make you spit with fury.

But at least we're not alone in our angst. It seems bosses are also a bit cross: they hate us, too. All of us. Even when we bring them coffee. And, according to Sandi Mann, senior lecturer in occupational psychology at the University of Central Lancashire, they may have a point. "A generation ago, people worked their way up the ladder, hierarchy was based on age and experience, and it was more respected," she says.

"Now, people may be brought in [as bosses] who are seen as the 'young whippersnappers' or 'from outside' so there is much more resentment than there used to be - which makes it much difficult to manage effectively."
And that's not all. In the days before open-plan offices and team-bonding days, managers were better protected from us oiks. "Managers used to be more remote, with their own staffrooms and canteens, and there used to be more middle management," Mann says.

"But now, they are expected to be the authority figure and 'one of the lads' as it were, and it's not always easy to get that balance right."
The result of all this is that while your boss might look like she's fine, inside she's seething. You think you hate your boss? Here are the top 10 things your boss hates about YOU.

1. Lateness
Everyone has days when the bus breaks down, the washing machine packs up, or the alarm doesn't go off. The problem is that some people have those days Monday through Friday. But what really cheeses off your boss is your lame excuse. "It shows you don't care," says Louis Halpern, CEO at advertising agency Halpern Cowan. "Why they can't just tell you that they find it hard to get out of bed and be done with it I don't know. It really makes me furious."

2. Lack of initiative
"Don't ask me if you should buy lunch for the client, if the client is coming at noon," said one infuriated manager. "Call up the client and ask if they want lunch." Actually that's not quite what he said: there was a lot more swearing in the original version. Managers absolutely hate being bothered by stuff that really, if you thought about it for even a second, you could work out for yourself. They also hate constant updates and being CCd in on everything. They pay you to do a job - get on with it...

3. Too much initiative
... unless you're an idiot. A marketing manager for a large educational charity reports that if there's one thing worse than lack of initiative, it's completely ignoring instructions to go off and do something else instead. She recently found herself on stage, ready to announce the winner of an award. When the person responsible for counting the votes turned up, he showed off a new, whizzy and completely redundant colour-coded method for counting the votes. Unfortunately, devising the new programme meant he hadn't actually had time to ... count the votes.

4. Bitching and whining
So Julie from third floor might not have said hello to you this morning, and that might well be because she's an unfriendly cow, but in the context of say, the war in Iraq, does it really merit a four-hour disquisition? Your boss doesn't think so. On the other hand, while bitching is bad, whining is worse. "What really annoys me is when we buy new equipment or take everyone out, and all I hear the next day is 'We should have bought a bigger TV' or 'We could have gone to a nicer restaurant'" says Halpern. "And that's when we've spent £5,000."

5. Disloyalty
Although none of the managers came out and said that they hated their staff for talking over them in meetings, pointing out their errors in public, or preventing the bonus-related project coming in on time, Mann says it's a major issue. "People used to close ranks, but it doesn't happen quite as much as it used to," she says. "Managers usually feel obliged to look after their staff, but if their staff don't feel the same way, the lack of loyalty is always a problem for the boss."

6. Lack of passion. Or interest
It might come as a surprise to you, but your boss has a life outside work. They too find it hard to get up in the morning. And they find the managing director's speeches as boring as you do. But they have to stay motivated, because they are the boss. So, when you fall asleep in meetings, can't remember the names of your accounts and tell them it doesn't matter whether the email goes today or tomorrow, it reminds them that they don't really give a toss either, but that it's their job to make themselves, and you, care. Then they get really, really irritated.

7. Trying to be their best friend
They don't want to go down the pub with you, they don't want to hear about what you really think of their boss, and they most certainly don't want to know what happened between you and Andy in the loos last Friday. They like you, but they know from bitter experience that if they show too much interest, you'll start treating them like a friend and refuse to take orders.

8. Petty lying
Saying that you missed the call because your mobile has run out of power. That you didn't get the email. That you've sent the report but there must be a technical glitch. That the meeting has run over and it's not worth you coming back to the office. That you've lost two big taxi receipts. That you're working from home today. That you have to go to a funeral, the dentist, the doctor, your mum's house, your best friend's cousin's wedding. Whatever. The biggest insult is that you think they believe you.

9. Childishness
I'm paraphrasing, but the key message here is: "I'm not your mum. Don't email me about the brand of toilet paper in the loo. Don't leave the kitchen in a mess. Don't ask me for a new biro. I'm not going to clean up after you and I don't care about this crap." You get the idea.

10. Wanting their job
They spend all their time and energy trying to protect you from the higher-uppers, you spend all your energy complaining about them. And then, on top of that, you want their job? Unforgivable.

The Pseudo-Quasi-Semi Insomniac Slash Nocturnal Slash Catatonic

16 march 2007
metrica, manila



Kuya Boy’s voice was already reverberating around the house. Twisting, turning, coiling and spinning, my mind was still stirring. Allende, Garcia-Marquez and Kundera were of no help. After reading and re-reading them, their powerful words and metaphors turned into mere ants parading before my tired eyes. Sleeping pills were all expired, the Nido can was already empty, Kukay was having forty winks at the doorsteps, and my eyes were still alive and kicking.



For the past days, I’ve been struggling to sleep. Every inch of my nerves has all worn out after several days of pressure from the office, particularly from our PM. Stress has been killing me I have been restless. The last time I had a sound sleep was so long a time I’ve forgotten it. Good thing there’s Marlboro and Coke that somewhat put me at ease.



Times like these bring me back to assessing my life. Which I hate, not only because I feel guilty for the things that I’ve done and whatnot, but I’d be consumed in trying to figure out my status right now and my future, if there is. This I find insufferable because I’m afraid that that would make me down in the dumps, especially with the current condition of my work.



Sometimes, I just think that I’m just overreacting, that I’m seeing things larger than life. I’m just trying to believe that life is as simple as what it had been during our younger years, when all our problems revolve around the zits and JS prom and our crushes. But however I strive to view things in rose-colored glass, this is my life now. And in spite of all the efforts that I’ve been doing to make it look optimistic and upbeat, well, it is as exciting as opening of an umbrella.



Too much for this as I know I’m not making any sense anymore. The sun was in its full vividness and Luningning was now executing her signature steps. Still, catching a doze was far from reality, even though my eyes were already puffed-up. Wait, Maricel Soriano was up next.

Justice for Satur, Justice for All

By Conrado de Quiros
Inquirer
Last updated 01:55am (Mla time) 03/26/2007


MANILA, Philippines – The gall of these people!

Eduardo Ermita says sori na lang: Satur Ocampo would have been spared the attentions the authorities are showering him now if he had merely availed of the amnesty offered by Presidents Aquino and Ramos during their time. Raul Gonzalez choruses, tsk, tsk, Ocampo is not covered by the amnesty given by the two past presidents simply because he did not apply for it. “If the President grants amnesty,” he says philosophically, “you must apply.”

What arrant nonsense.

At the very least, what’s wrong with it is what Ocampo himself has to say about it. He never applied for the amnesty because he never committed the crimes he was accused of. Why on earth, or hell, should he ask to be pardoned for a crime he did not commit? Indeed, why on earth, or on any other planet, should he admit to a crime he did not commit?

It’s the third time now, says Ocampo, that he has been accused of these crimes—during Marcos’ time when he was in detention; during Cory’s time when he was again in detention; and now during Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo’s time, for which he has been put in detention. And each time, the case against him failed. I thought we proscribed double jeopardy? I thought we observed the principle that a man may not be tried for the same case twice? This isn’t double jeopardy, this is triple jeopardy!

What makes Ermita’s and Gonzalez’s statements doubly stupid is that they openly suggest that Ocampo is not being accused of an ordinary crime but of a political one. One committed in the course of pursuing a political cause and, therefore, deserving of amnesty. If Ocampo were truly guilty of murder in the sense that we normally understand it, in the sense of the spectacle we are being regaled with today (journalists and political activists are being routinely gunned down by assassins), why should he be pardoned whether there is amnesty or not? The killers of James Rowe were not. If Ocampo fell in the same category, then he should rot in hell, or in jail. Ermita and Gonzalez themselves suggest he does not belong in either.

What makes their statements galling is more than the smugness with which they say them. What makes them so is the way they or the government they represent presume to sit in judgment over Ocampo. They should not be judging, they should be judged.

I do know someone who has committed a monumental crime, a crime far worse than the murder of a person, or even the wholesale slaughter of an entire tribe. That is the murder of a nation, that is the murder of a people. Or what is but the same thing, that is the murder of democracy, that is the murder of freedom. I do know someone who admitted that crime, albeit with every effort to mislead the public about it. I do know someone who applied for pardon for it, saying robotically “I…am…sorry…”, notwithstanding that the ultimate rulers of this country, who are the People, have not issued a proclamation of amnesty and who certainly would not have included that crime among those pardonable by God or man even if they had done so.

I do know someone who has not been or will ever be covered by any amnesty. I do know someone who has asked to be pardoned for the mother of all crimes, but has not been pardoned for it or can ever be pardoned for it.

But she has not been prosecuted or harassed like Satur Ocampo. She has been installed in office and, like Marcos, praised by her fawners. She does not have a tiny cell in Muntinlupa, she has an office that dwarfs her in Malacañang.

But far more than any of these, the spectacle of GMA, Ermita, Gonzalez and ilk presuming to sit in judgment over Satur Ocampo is not unlike Imelda Marcos, Fabian Ver, Juan Ponce Enrile and ilk presuming to sit in judgment over Corazon Aquino. The fact that Ocampo is being accused of crimes he apparently committed during martial law only calls attention to who Ocampo and his accusers were during martial law and what contributions they’ve made to this country.

Ocampo was a journalist who, finding that the sword could be an ally of the pen, risked life and limb to join a group that was fighting to liberate this country from dictatorship. For which pains he was caught, tortured and detained for a good many years of his life, while trumped-up charges were filed against him as they were against everyone who tried to cut down the barbed wire strung across this country. By all rights, Ocampo should be hailed a hero for fighting and helping to restore this country’s freedoms, along with all those who died or were scarred for life for doing the same thing—Left, Right, or Center, it doesn’t matter. And by all rights, all those self-proclaimed heroes that sprouted after the bells pealed victory should be dragged to Bagumbayan and made to share Rizal’s fate minus the reverence.

What contributions Ermita, Gonzalez and ilk made during that time only they know. Indeed, what they were doing at that time, other than scratching the globules dangling down their apparent manhood, only they know. It’s criminal enough that we’ve never given people like Ocampo their due for what they’ve done to end a tyranny. It’s an absolute atrocity that they should be pilloried for it by people who may not hold up a cigarette lighter—never mind candle—to them.

During those dark years of martial law, we had a phrase that perfectly captured our common plight of oppression and our perception that a humongous injustice done to one person—Left, Right, or Center, it did not matter—was a humongous injustice done to us all. That phrase was, “Justice for Ninoy, justice for all.” In these dark years of de facto martial law, we have a phrase that does the same thing:

“Justice for Satur, justice for all.”

PALAYAIN si KA SATUR!

KABATAAN PARTYLIST sa KONGRESO

Kabataan, tagapagmana ng bukas, tagahulma ng kapalaran, pag-asa ng
bayan: Panahon na para sumuway at maging mapangahas.

Sumuway sa kasalukuyang ayos ng karahasan. Magpumiglas laban sa lupit
ng kahirapan. Sumalungat sa karaniwang agos ng kawalang pakialam.
Ituwid ang tiwali, iwaksi ng bulok, ipagtanggol ang mga api.

Kabataan:
Magtanong
Maghamon
Magtangka
Makisangkot.

Kailangang mag-aral hindi lamang sa loob ng paaralan, maghanapbuhay
upang maunawaan ang halaga ng paggawa, maghabol ng mga pangarap,
makapagsilbi, makilala ang sarili, maging makabuluhan sa lipunan.

Kabataan, kailangang magpatuloy.

Kailangang pumadyak. Kailangang kumampay. Kailangang huminga. Sa oras
ng pagkagipit nakakakuha ng lakas ang kabataan para lumangoy.
Nakakagalit ang mga nagaganap: Katiwalian, kahirapan, kawalang
katarungan. Pero ang galit natin ang ating armas.

Tulad ng ng ating mga bayaning nagsilbi sa kapwa at nag-alay ng buhay
para sa bansa:

Kung kailangang nasa bingit at pinagmumuntik-muntikanan, doon tayo
lalong nagiging matalas at mas mapangahas.

Dahil sa simula pa lang naman ng ating kasaysayan: Alam nating
nakakamit lang ang pagbabago kung iniluwal ito mula sa pinakamagiting
na pag-iral at pakikipaglaban ng kabataan.
Kabataan, pag-asa ng bayan. Walang ibang tagapagmana ng bukas kundi
tayo. Walang ibang huhulma ng bukas kundi tayo.

Kabataan, panahon na para sumuway at maging mapangahas.

Ngayong eleksyon, susuway tayo sa dikta ng kawalang-pakialam at
kawalang-katiyakan. Hindi tayo magkikimi ni hihingi ng paumanhin. Ang
pagsuway ay isang pagpapasiya. Ang pagsuway ay pagpanig. At pagkitil
sa pangit na kabilang hindi natin pinili. Ito'y pagkikipagtitigan sa
mata. Ito'y paniningil at pagtiyak sa ating mga karapatan. Ito'y
pagtangan sa papel natin sa pagbabago.

At paghamon sa sarili upang kumilos tungo sa isang mas makatao at
makatarungang mundo.

Kabataan:
Magtanong
Maghamon
Magtangka
Makisangkot.

Worst Education Crisis in 2007

The future has become bleaker for the youth under the Arroyo administration. Year in, year out, the crisis of education sector has haunted the youth in the most unimaginable way, in all forms and schemes. Tuition increase, utilization of idled assets, exorbitant fees impositions; these have become normal scenes in the face of struggling youth.

This year isn’t an exemption. The reenacted budget adds up to the crisis, resulting in a huge number of dropouts. Clearly, the education has rapidly become a privilege to the affluent few, and not a right which the Constitution has clearly stipulated.

After reviewing the education sector situation, the Kabataan Partylist has come up with the following analysis:


Budget reenactment spells tuition hikes, more dropouts in state schools


The Kabataan Party today warned of a looming catastrophe for the education sector this year should Congress fail to pass the 2007 national budget.

“A reenacted budget could trigger the worst education crisis in history,” Kabataan Party president Raymond Palatino said.

Palatino explained that a reenacted national budget would only mean huge cutback in education spending as the government will have to do with the same budget it had in 2005. If ever, this is the third straight year that the government will operate in a reenacted budget, he added.

“The budget two years ago cannot in any way compensate the growing needs and population of the education sector, not to mention the urgency to modernize and upgrade school facilities.

He said a reenacted education budget would further aggravate the pitiful condition of education in the country and would make tertiary education even more elusive to ordinary Filipino youth.

He added that the unresolved controversy over the illegal provisions of the new Commission on Higher Education (CHEd) memorandum no. 14 or the guidelines for proposed tuition and miscellaneous fee hikes is bound to create more confusion on February when private schools file their applications for tuition hike next semester.

Last year, the House Committee on Higher and Technical Education said CHEd memorandum no. 14 is illegal as it allows private schools to increase tuition without proper consultation with students.

But an even bigger problem is set to confound tertiary education which Palatino compared to a ticking time bomb in the verge of an explosion.

With a decreasing budget for state schools every year, he said many state universities and colleges (SUCs) may soon follow the 300 percent tuition hike abruptly passed by the University of the Philippines (UP) Board of Regents last month.

Education spending has dropped from 19.3 percent of total government expenditures in 1997 to 15.5 percent in 2004. The average government spending on education per student is $170. This pales in comparison to Thailand ($550) and Malaysia ($930).

“The UP example and a reenacted budget will certainly attract other state school administrators to take the easier path and increase tuition to the detriment of poor but deserving student.”

He said this will consequently lead to an upsurge in college dropouts in the coming years.

“State schools supposedly are the last resort for college hopefuls and private school students who could no longer afford the excessive cost of college education. There is a very limited space left in state institutions and a tuition hike will make college education increasingly intangible and prohibitive even in public tertiary institutions.”

Astig ang KABATAAN!