the survivor

30 april 2008
makati city



"it’s better to burn out than fade away." – kurt cobain, 1967-1994

finally, i’m back. been buried by lots of things these past weeks i was totally asphyxiated. in fact, i was feeling i would puke every time i heard deck, csat, meeting, trends and analyses. these call centre higher ups patois cached me from seeing sunlight i almost believed i was interred six feet under. good thing chika surged like raging lava; otherwise, i would definitely end up cockscrewing my dandruff-clinging hair like a true blue nuts.

too morbid is my description because it really was. no other description is more apt. no hyperbolism. when i said "battles are my business," it did not occur to me that i would sweat bullets and canon balls in braving them.

this is far different from the usual hell weeks in college days. this was a matter of life and death...and surviving. for the first time, i was able to do an analysis, which was to be sent directly to client, in 20 minutes. this was on top of the deck that was to be sent to general manager and that entailed a series of focus group discussions and brow-knitting and mind-wringing. and again, on top of seminars and training i had to undergo.

and i survived. i can smile now because i am able to spend more than 3 hours of sleep. my skype status is already changed from "do not disturb" to "available", which means i am free to unleash my power to chika once more. i consider it right timing as a lot of changes, updates, transformations and metamorphoses have just taken place.

it’s better not to delve too much into negativity. the fact is, i survived. these past weeks too, my friend ayin introduced this positive thinking thing with the gist revolving around seeing things in rose coloured glasses. though skeptical at first, ayin was able to bring me around in trying this. anyway, wala namang mawawala sa akin.

so there goes my haggard days, the flow part of the vicious cycle of ebb and flow. now, it’s my turn to go back to sipping banana daiquiris atop of banana boat.

first call

21 april 2008
makati city

Good thing Ayin was still there. Otherwise, I might have been unable to connect to Saafi and Fernando, who were waiting like a ravenous tiger ready to fall its newly edged teeth to its hapless prey.

My emotions flew like a wayward missile. This was my first time to have a call on my own, with me as the facilitator and the clients as devil’s advocates. Not until that call, I thought I could easily weave words to satisfy the ears of the clients. Though I must admit that even with my conviction that is sometimes larger than life, I was still anxious to do it. Before hearing the growl on the other line, I was at a loss I just crossed my legs to pacify my urge to pee. Worst part was that Boss Robi was sitting behind me, which would mean that I could have sermon as my side dish for my breakfast.

When I heard Saafi’s voice, I was glad I was able to regain my composure. Thanks for the script and spiels I prepared which proved to be helpful in my presentation. Then the conversation began with me a little hesitant at first. It actually ran smoothly I gained enough courage to continue and vaunt our analyses and action items; in fact, lovely, as Saafi liked the format and that they don’t have any issues with the QA team right now.

So there I was, smiling throughout the entire call while alternately flipping through my script. Lots of time I lost focus as I was engrossed in savouring their comments. Boss Robi interrupted from time to time to seek some clarification or to add up something I almost forgot to point out. During the wrap up part, Fernando and Saafi reiterated the necessity to keep a keen eye on the supervisors. I just shrugged my shoulder and gave Boss Robi a victorious look.

At exactly 7am, I heard the click on the other line. Only then was I able to breathe normally. Light discussion ensued, outlining what-to-do’s in the light of that call. But I was too busy to care anymore. So as soon as Boss Robi stepped out of the room, I immediately grabbed my bag and proceeded to somewhere I could silently celebrate my first call.

tuesday with melon

16 april 2008
makati city

It is now a week delayed. And it has nothing to do with melon. It’s just I think it would look more poetic and cutie using this title. Anyway, to some extent, it would matter as I just doused the Tuesday afternoon heat wave away with several glasses of melon shake.

My Tuesday afternoon was not in its usual boring fashion. I woke up early (in my ordinary days, getting out of bed at 11am is record-breaking) and tried to brush off the cobweb that had been lodging in my gray matter for the longest time. Playing on the background were the early 90’s songs from women-led bands (Hole, the Cranberries, 10,000 Maniacs and Moonpools and Caterpillar), I couldn’t help looking back when I was romantically-attached to everything surrounding me. I was flammable by then, which made me explode and swell at no exact point in time.

Songs of grunge bands, Eraserheads and women-led bands encapsulate my mood in my juvenile years – a tug of war between being angst-ridden and dreamy, almost chimerical. This is the era of being "cool," the household word at that time it had already lost its meaning and sense. If I would be asked what made me cool at that time, I would definitely cite my engrossment to the bands with women as the vocalists, more than the Tretorn, loose tuck in, date with whoever were the coolest guys and gals on campus and Penshoppe.

Around that time, I was a hopeless romantic trying hard writer, oozing with "I hate myself I wanna die" attitude as it was a compulsory for soon-to-be English major and pa-literati crowd. With our throat alternately sucking up black smoke of Marlboro and black coffee, it was a de rigueur for us, pseudo-quasi-semi writers, to write heart-wrenching short story over ear-splitting Jeremy or Smells like Teen Spirit. This only shows that at that time, hearing these bands was a requirement to be cool in our crowd.

My liking on this music genre actually transcended the preference and taste and the trying to be cool. It became a part of attitude and belief. Although they’re undeniably pleasant to the ears, they do not just pierce my heart; they smash my soul into smithereens. That’s the real score on my decision to lock myself in my room when Kurt Cobain committed suicide…hehe…

It was a time-capsule experience; my mind was being rewound to the flush of life. Could’ve-beens and should’ve-beens crept through my synapses but I was too busy to care. Until Courtney Love’s voice was drowned by the alarm clock that reverberated around the room.

when carmi martin strikes back

07 april 2008
makati city

after the ebb comes the bubonic plague of work. yes you’ve heard it right; i’ve been bugged by the weight of the bandwidth right now. tons of works in different shades and hues. though i have been anticipating this, it’s never occurred to my mind that it would be as bulky and burdensome as this. even if it is against my will, i have to say goodbye to sipping banana daiquiris atop of banana boat.

for the first time, i have to admit that i am now in a "culture shock." not necessarily overwhelmed but more of windang and haggardo verzosa considering i have been in the post for almost two months. changes come one after the other, from the most discerning to the most insensitive, smallest to biggest, most silent to the most blaring ways and forms and fashions. they come not in one but usually in waves, or in series. and they haunt me, dwell into my mind, drilling into my brain just like tiny monsters banging in the wall of my head with placards shouting "do it ASAP, or else…"

this is my first time to write about my work as a qa supervisor since assuming the position on the 22nd of February. but, i won’t delve too much into it as two months are too short to share my routine. i need to gain a lot of experiences and learn tons of lessons first. it's just i’ve had the urge to flesh out some part of it, hoping that this would make things a little clearer since in normal times, i would just snatch away time and attention of my friends who are wont to sucking up my haggardness while sucking up black smoke of cigarette over a cup of coffee.

i know there are more to come. i just need to jot down everything to, to the words of ming ling in the soong sister, a very brilliant and brave film, "cut the bullshit." anyway, i told my manager during my interview for this post that i always choose my battles, and i don’t take them sitting down. in a nutshell, and to make it a sound bite, "battles are my business."

in retro

05 april 2008
makati city.


29 February 2008 –


my hair was still in a total mess when i received a text from a friend. with a stick of marlboro squashed in between my fingers, i eagerly read the message. it was a forwarded message: ate, kilala mo daw yung barret ng batch 10? patay na daw po.


wilbert was a classmate in high school. he was from the group of prim and proper, inversely proportional to the crowd i was associated with that was a bunch of rockers wannabe (at that time, i mean). they were the well-ironed-uniform-wearing classmates who would fit in the definition of "hot guys/gals" while we were the cool guys/gals who never cared how do we look like. despite the differences, we actually didn’t have any problems chilling out together. we were able to whip through our distinctness.


it was in the kamalig that the ties among the members of our batch started to flower. like anyone else, wilbert was a total stranger to us, further bolstered by his surname which sounded foreigner. but kamalig explored the ways to converge us, paving the way to the friendship we’ve been holding on to until this very day. until finally, we’re able to figure out each strengths and weaknesses.


i have actually been preparing to see my classmates as, during the last entry to our batch blog, it has been agreed upon that we would hold our get-together after a decade of hiatus. the last time i caught a glimpse of wilbert was when we’re obliged to clean the entire school just to get our hard-earned…good moral certificate. this was the consequence of escaping from practising graduation for a batch picnic. it’s still vivid in my memory how we plugged our asses away from sleeking the entire building, with sweats dripping like flowing on our foreheads.


up to now, it is still a puzzle to us what really took place. several stories have been in rounds, but none of them are confirmed. some assume that his death was related to his work, as he’s an engineer and some not-so-nice guys might have not liked the way wilbert dealt with them. i’ve always pictured wilbert as a boy-next-door type who’s willing to share his shoulders to be leaned on and extend hands to those who need his help. i guess he stuck to that image till a wacko put him to silence forever.


it is still hard to imagine that wilbert would be no longer with us on our get-together he planned. in memen's words, nakakalungkot.

can't afford gucci but we wear honesty*

04 april 2008
makati city




like a space cadet to narcotics, i’ve been hooked to brian gorrell’s blog. more than the expose on manila’s powers-that-be in the fashion world, it is brian’s quest for honesty and integrity that strikes me. anyway, here’s a poster that appears on the blog, c/o one of his supporters.

*for more chika, go to www.delfindjmontano.blogspot.com

petiks in the time of haggardness

01 april 2008
makati city


i'm having the event of my life these past days. my bosses are not in their usual "i need an analysis on the drop of satisfaction score in 5 minutes" fashion. skype has stopped blinking and the avaya phone has been sitting silently in front of me like a paper weight. my mailbox is now an hour empty, except for the occasional spams i've gladly received.


of course, this day has brought a fresh start courtesy of a new hairstyle and a new pair of shoes. at least even if i'm haggard, i could still pull it off because of this new facade. or that's what i want to think of.


well, since there's an unbelievable absence of client call, meeting with the management, complaints against the reports, clarifications on the operations supervisors, workshop and coaching with qas, i am able to tag along the trail and tale of brian gorrel. much has been said about his revelations about the "gucci gang," the group of celine lopez, tim yap, tina tinio and other socialites and its alleged freeloading activities and use of "coke," i don't think i cannot ask for more. the story is very detailed and visual it is as if i am acquainted with these personalities/celebrities. the story is, in fact, omnipresent in the four corners of blogsphere.


after satiating myself with the dynamite, i've browsed the inquirer. not a good idea. right before my eyes are the big bold letters of "World Bank lists sources of corruption in Philippines" parading across the page. too heavy for my eyes as i've decided not to immerse too much to political arena. too constraining for a mind that has long kissed off the meaning of rest. or simply, it's just too hot to handle.


so i just sit in front of this pc, wishing that the chair would turn into a banana boat where i can stretch my legs while having banana daiquiris. now that is the real event of my life.

4.40 AM, sa office

29 march 2008
makati city
happy anniversary!

still at the office, finishing the things i should have abandoned. times like these bring me back to reality check, though it is still hard to figure out as i've totally lost my sanity these past few weeks. anyway, right now, several thoughts, disorganised or unorganised, keep banging at the thickness of the wall of my head.

1. my neglect to give life to this blog. been a long time since i put something interesting in it. i've, in fact, lost tracked to what is my last entry. nobody cares anyway, but up to now, i still enjoy looking at the template i've borrowed.

2. my flakes are branching out of my head. don't know anymore what shampoo to use or how many times should i comb my hair. it's getting kadiri na especially i am wont to using dark shirts.

3. my hair is obviously in protest. every strand has its life of its own. everyday is my bad hair day. plan to have them toned down soon, a plan that has been going in rounds for years.

4. need a new pair of shoes. period, no need to explain.

5. pants and poloshirts to pop up prim and proper portrait especially if talking to a client. nothing is mortifying than shaking hands with the client with big Arial Black "I lost virginity.." screaming on the shirt.

the list is never-ending. this is how bottle up i am. and now, i need to get back to auditing.

happy birthday, jd salinger!

"I keep picturing all these little kids playing some game in this big field of rye and all… I'm standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff - I mean if they're running and they don't look where they're going I have to come out from somewhere and catch them. That's all I do all day. I'd just be the catcher in the rye."

jd salinger

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!