she wades through
a wet week's worth
of rain, of tears,
a pain i fear i cannot fathom
these words can only gasp
for a grasp of what it means
to be forgotten.
when memories begotten
by ghosts of sunny days gone
are just that: memories.
i am sorry.
i know not yet such pain.
i can only empathize so much.
but this though i can say:
the local weather report
may talk of another rainy week ahead.
but it's THAT season, no reason really
to wrinkle your forehead
when the songs of the birds are dead.
they are only hiding.
all falls to a matter of finding:
a hot cup of coffee on a cold afternoon,
a warm bed and the sound of raindrops lulling you to sleep,
the corny joke of a friend desperate to make you smile,
the occasional break in the clouds for light to shine through
the season won't last, of course.
soon the slumbering bear in his cave
will wake to marvel at a world
where winter is only a sentence
lodged in the past tense.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Monday, July 09, 2007
portrait of a family dinner at a japanese restaurant
i'm taking up a new hobby: observing people.
it's friday evening, and i still have an hour and a half before transformers the movie starts, so i'm off to dinner at rai rai ken ayala. i take up a table and notice that sitting across me was this family of four. so i decide to practice my new hobby and observe them for the duration of the dinner.
there was the father and the mother, both i think in their late 30s, and their 2 daughters, both of whom couldn't have been older than 7. the kids were playing w/ their chopsticks, w/c would be the natural thing kids do at a japanese restaurant. their table was also littered w/ the shredded chopstick wrappers. this upset and probably also embarrassed the mom, who was wearing an almost pained expression on her face while watching the kids at their antics. so to save her reputation, she proceeded scolding the kids, but very very quietly, so as to not attract everybody else's attention. the kids did settle down a bit, but continued playing w/ their chopsticks anyway, beating their plates like drums.
the more detached father, seeing what the kids were doing w/ their chopsticks, decided teaching the kids how to use them. i'm no expert at chopsticks, but i think he was holding it wrong. he crossed the sticks in his right hand like scissors, w/c would make controlling the chopsticks more difficult. a question to chopstick users: was the dad doing it wrong? or am i the one doing it wrong? anyhow, the kids couldn't seem to figure it out so the parents were forced to ask the waiter for a spoon and fork for both of the kids.
they ordered 3 bentos and a ramen. i think their plan was to have 1 bento each for the grown ups and have the kids split the 3rd bento, and they would all share the ramen. the grown ups' bentos arrived first, so the father, in his capacity as provider, distributed some of his own food to the kids. he already gave the kids some rice & teriyaki beef, then he took one whole tempura from his plate and gave it to the youngest. but the kid didn't look too interested in the tempura, maybe found it too big, so she gave it back to dad. the dad then passed the tempura to the older kid, who also gave it back to dad. already rejected twice, he then gave it to the mom, at w/c point the mom frowned at the extra serving of tempura on her plate. weird, nobody seemed to want the tempura. if not for the distance between their table and mine, i would have volunteered to assist them in the tempura's disposal. but the mom soon found a solution to the tempura dilemma. she split the thing in half, giving one piece to each kid, both of whom happily accepted. problem solved.
then the 3rd bento arrived, and the ramen. the dad tried distributing the ramen, but mom and the kids would only take the soup and only a little of the noodles. the kids couldn't finish the 3rd bento. the mom, who never lost the pained expression on her face since the start of the dinner, also didn't seem too keen on the leftovers. so it was all up to dad, who gamely started on what was left of the kids' bento, and then the ramen noodles. he soon cleaned everything out, leaving nothing to waste. that must be why most men tend to get fat when they become fathers (what we cebuanos call 'papa ug lawas'), they're the ones who have to clean up the kids' leftovers.
after seeing dad clean everything up, the mom, still wearing the pained expression on her face, calls the waiter and asks for the bill. the kids were now as well behaved as angels, their full tummies probably holding them down. hmmm... a thought, their must be a link between child obesity and hyperactivity. maybe the parents of obese kids overuse food as a solution to the kids' hyperactivity.
the bill soon arrived, and out came dad's wallet. he paid for the dinner in cash. the change promptly arrived, and i noticed that the dad took everything, not leaving any for a tip. i myself didn't leave a tip for my meal. are we filipinos really bad tippers in general? w/ the change now safely in the dad's pocket, they all stood up and left. the mom's face was now noticeably calmer, like she was relieved the dinner didn't turn out to be a disaster.
seeing no other interesting subject left in the restaurant, i finished what was left of my food, paid my bill, and left.
it's friday evening, and i still have an hour and a half before transformers the movie starts, so i'm off to dinner at rai rai ken ayala. i take up a table and notice that sitting across me was this family of four. so i decide to practice my new hobby and observe them for the duration of the dinner.
there was the father and the mother, both i think in their late 30s, and their 2 daughters, both of whom couldn't have been older than 7. the kids were playing w/ their chopsticks, w/c would be the natural thing kids do at a japanese restaurant. their table was also littered w/ the shredded chopstick wrappers. this upset and probably also embarrassed the mom, who was wearing an almost pained expression on her face while watching the kids at their antics. so to save her reputation, she proceeded scolding the kids, but very very quietly, so as to not attract everybody else's attention. the kids did settle down a bit, but continued playing w/ their chopsticks anyway, beating their plates like drums.
the more detached father, seeing what the kids were doing w/ their chopsticks, decided teaching the kids how to use them. i'm no expert at chopsticks, but i think he was holding it wrong. he crossed the sticks in his right hand like scissors, w/c would make controlling the chopsticks more difficult. a question to chopstick users: was the dad doing it wrong? or am i the one doing it wrong? anyhow, the kids couldn't seem to figure it out so the parents were forced to ask the waiter for a spoon and fork for both of the kids.
they ordered 3 bentos and a ramen. i think their plan was to have 1 bento each for the grown ups and have the kids split the 3rd bento, and they would all share the ramen. the grown ups' bentos arrived first, so the father, in his capacity as provider, distributed some of his own food to the kids. he already gave the kids some rice & teriyaki beef, then he took one whole tempura from his plate and gave it to the youngest. but the kid didn't look too interested in the tempura, maybe found it too big, so she gave it back to dad. the dad then passed the tempura to the older kid, who also gave it back to dad. already rejected twice, he then gave it to the mom, at w/c point the mom frowned at the extra serving of tempura on her plate. weird, nobody seemed to want the tempura. if not for the distance between their table and mine, i would have volunteered to assist them in the tempura's disposal. but the mom soon found a solution to the tempura dilemma. she split the thing in half, giving one piece to each kid, both of whom happily accepted. problem solved.
then the 3rd bento arrived, and the ramen. the dad tried distributing the ramen, but mom and the kids would only take the soup and only a little of the noodles. the kids couldn't finish the 3rd bento. the mom, who never lost the pained expression on her face since the start of the dinner, also didn't seem too keen on the leftovers. so it was all up to dad, who gamely started on what was left of the kids' bento, and then the ramen noodles. he soon cleaned everything out, leaving nothing to waste. that must be why most men tend to get fat when they become fathers (what we cebuanos call 'papa ug lawas'), they're the ones who have to clean up the kids' leftovers.
after seeing dad clean everything up, the mom, still wearing the pained expression on her face, calls the waiter and asks for the bill. the kids were now as well behaved as angels, their full tummies probably holding them down. hmmm... a thought, their must be a link between child obesity and hyperactivity. maybe the parents of obese kids overuse food as a solution to the kids' hyperactivity.
the bill soon arrived, and out came dad's wallet. he paid for the dinner in cash. the change promptly arrived, and i noticed that the dad took everything, not leaving any for a tip. i myself didn't leave a tip for my meal. are we filipinos really bad tippers in general? w/ the change now safely in the dad's pocket, they all stood up and left. the mom's face was now noticeably calmer, like she was relieved the dinner didn't turn out to be a disaster.
seeing no other interesting subject left in the restaurant, i finished what was left of my food, paid my bill, and left.
Monday, July 02, 2007
people watching
it is 3pm on a lazy saturday afternoon, and i am relaxing at bo's coffee club ayala, sipping a chocolate chip froccino. very disappointed with the chocolate chip froccino. the ice and the chocolate chips were too lumpy that sucking through the straw required the strength of a vacuum cleaner. the barrista probably wasn't in the mood to blend the darn thing well enough. i start thinking that maybe i should have gone to bigbucks for my caffeine fix. i can personally attest that bigbucks' coffee kicks bo's coffee's ass. and even better, i have an employee's discount at bigbucks. but the thing with bigbucks though, it's just that there aren't too many interesting people to watch there.
for example, to my right is a group of 4 office girl type chicks. they are talking very animatedly, like they haven't seen each other in a long time. maybe they were close college friends, this being one of those rare opporunities that they all weren't too busy to meet and catch up on each other. i find the one facing me cute, so i steal some looks at her every now & then. but then i notice a ring on her finger. damn. she's married.
to my left, is a young couple, about college age. they both look shy, this might be their first date. they talk in short and measured sentences, as if both are scared of saying something that might screw things up. both are looking quietly out the window. they only look at each other when they talk, then they promptly go back to looking out the window. the girl is pretty. the guy must feel very lucky to snag a date with her. i wish him luck.
after about 30 minutes, the young couple leaves. they are replaced by another couple, a filipina and a white guy. a most interesting specimen. the white guy is carrying a camera with him, taking pictures of his filipina date. he has a very tourist-y aura about him, like he just landed from the states. they order coffee, brownies, and ice cream. the filipina looks bored & uncomfortable. they don't talk very much. the white guy does most of the talking, while the filipina just smiles most of the time. i get a sense that they are still trying to form a connection. the white guy looks like your normal run-off-the-mill average looking white guy. but his filipina date is just... well... to put it more politely... exotic.
the question that's racing in my mind as i watch them is this: does he really find her attractive??? or is he just plain desperate? i so would've wanted ask him that, but i expected a punch to the gut to come after the question. we wouldn't want an international incident in our hands would we?
when we see such couples, we start forming conclusions based on our prejudices. we surmise that the filipina girl is poor, and the white guy middle aged and desperate. we guess that they found each other over the internet, maybe through social networking sites like friendster or dating sites like itzamatch.com, or maybe some random chat room over ym or msn. they continue chatting or exchanging emails in a span of a year or so, trying to form a virtual bond with each other. white guy eventually decides to come to the philippines so they can see each other in person. and now, here they are, right in front of me, having coffee.
a common judgement is that the relationship is one that is created out of convenience, with the hope that love will find its way into their hearts as the relationship runs its course. the filipina is usually condemned as a gold digger and the white guy as a poor pathetic sucker. such blanket judgements are wrong of course, but prejudice usually has some basis in truth. anyway, we're all trying to find love one way or another. that's just how it works for them. i can only hope that both are sincere.
while i was caught in my reverie, a weird man suddenly approaches. he asks me, quite rudely, if the other seat on my table was taken. i was too surprised to say anything, so i just stared at him. without waiting for my answer, he takes the other chair, swings it to the side, sits down, and takes a nap. i considered the act a violation of my personal air space, but what could i do? technically, table and chair weren't mine. and i couldn't just shoo him away. so i waited for him to open his eyes, then i gave him my best impression of the ghost rider's penance stare. luckily, he got the message, and moved to another spot. he wasn't so dumb after all.
suggestion to bigbucks management: you guys should be setting up a branch at ayala, or some other mall. at least the people won't be so boring.
for example, to my right is a group of 4 office girl type chicks. they are talking very animatedly, like they haven't seen each other in a long time. maybe they were close college friends, this being one of those rare opporunities that they all weren't too busy to meet and catch up on each other. i find the one facing me cute, so i steal some looks at her every now & then. but then i notice a ring on her finger. damn. she's married.
to my left, is a young couple, about college age. they both look shy, this might be their first date. they talk in short and measured sentences, as if both are scared of saying something that might screw things up. both are looking quietly out the window. they only look at each other when they talk, then they promptly go back to looking out the window. the girl is pretty. the guy must feel very lucky to snag a date with her. i wish him luck.
after about 30 minutes, the young couple leaves. they are replaced by another couple, a filipina and a white guy. a most interesting specimen. the white guy is carrying a camera with him, taking pictures of his filipina date. he has a very tourist-y aura about him, like he just landed from the states. they order coffee, brownies, and ice cream. the filipina looks bored & uncomfortable. they don't talk very much. the white guy does most of the talking, while the filipina just smiles most of the time. i get a sense that they are still trying to form a connection. the white guy looks like your normal run-off-the-mill average looking white guy. but his filipina date is just... well... to put it more politely... exotic.
the question that's racing in my mind as i watch them is this: does he really find her attractive??? or is he just plain desperate? i so would've wanted ask him that, but i expected a punch to the gut to come after the question. we wouldn't want an international incident in our hands would we?
when we see such couples, we start forming conclusions based on our prejudices. we surmise that the filipina girl is poor, and the white guy middle aged and desperate. we guess that they found each other over the internet, maybe through social networking sites like friendster or dating sites like itzamatch.com, or maybe some random chat room over ym or msn. they continue chatting or exchanging emails in a span of a year or so, trying to form a virtual bond with each other. white guy eventually decides to come to the philippines so they can see each other in person. and now, here they are, right in front of me, having coffee.
a common judgement is that the relationship is one that is created out of convenience, with the hope that love will find its way into their hearts as the relationship runs its course. the filipina is usually condemned as a gold digger and the white guy as a poor pathetic sucker. such blanket judgements are wrong of course, but prejudice usually has some basis in truth. anyway, we're all trying to find love one way or another. that's just how it works for them. i can only hope that both are sincere.
while i was caught in my reverie, a weird man suddenly approaches. he asks me, quite rudely, if the other seat on my table was taken. i was too surprised to say anything, so i just stared at him. without waiting for my answer, he takes the other chair, swings it to the side, sits down, and takes a nap. i considered the act a violation of my personal air space, but what could i do? technically, table and chair weren't mine. and i couldn't just shoo him away. so i waited for him to open his eyes, then i gave him my best impression of the ghost rider's penance stare. luckily, he got the message, and moved to another spot. he wasn't so dumb after all.
suggestion to bigbucks management: you guys should be setting up a branch at ayala, or some other mall. at least the people won't be so boring.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
the nba is a loony bin
and i thought kobe bryant was crazy... here's a bit of old news i came across:
(CBS) MINNEAPOLIS On March 30, Minnesota Timberwolves center Eddie Griffin was drunk and masturbating when he crashed his luxury SUV into a parked Suburban outside a store in Minneapolis, according to a lawsuit filed Thursday by the man whose Suburban was hit in the crash.
(CBS) MINNEAPOLIS On March 30, Minnesota Timberwolves center Eddie Griffin was drunk and masturbating when he crashed his luxury SUV into a parked Suburban outside a store in Minneapolis, according to a lawsuit filed Thursday by the man whose Suburban was hit in the crash.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
sunday at the park
a new photo essay on my photoblog. check it out :) comments are highly appreciated :)
Friday, June 15, 2007
a divine win
another thought.
after the san miguel beermen's miraculous win over coca-cola last sunday, eric reyes interviewed coach siot tanquincen about the win. he asked coach siot, "what were you thinking during the game?" to which coach siot replied to the effect, "you just don't give up on situations like this, and you leave everything else to God. fortunately God blessed us with this win."
it occured to me, does God meddle with sports? does He decide who should win, or does He just leave it up to the players to win it? do we REALLY have free will?
after the san miguel beermen's miraculous win over coca-cola last sunday, eric reyes interviewed coach siot tanquincen about the win. he asked coach siot, "what were you thinking during the game?" to which coach siot replied to the effect, "you just don't give up on situations like this, and you leave everything else to God. fortunately God blessed us with this win."
it occured to me, does God meddle with sports? does He decide who should win, or does He just leave it up to the players to win it? do we REALLY have free will?
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
balls
just wondering, why is it, of all the organs we have in the human body, that the testicles are most associated with courage? like, when you say "you must have balls to do that." or when you say, "that's a very ballsy move."
are there any chemical reactions that happen in the testicles to produce courage? or maybe, is it just because warriors of cave man society had a tendency to display their balls, maybe to attract prospective mates by advertising their virility?
for sure, the feminists will have something to say about that. if you follow the logic, since only men have testicles, then it means only men are capable of courage. which, of course, is like saying our politicians are not capable of cheating.
if i remember right, filipinos lost a major battle in the philippine american war thanks to that particular association. while preparing his defenses, general antonio luna learned that a subordinate he had just reprimanded dissed him, saying if he had the balls then he should come discipline him. naturally, the general, notorious for his short fuse, was furious. he took a part of his troops with him to face the subordinate, abandoning the rest. unfortunately, while the general was out proving his anatomy, the americans came and broke through the filipino defenses.
thus did 'balls' lead the revolution to its doom.
are there any chemical reactions that happen in the testicles to produce courage? or maybe, is it just because warriors of cave man society had a tendency to display their balls, maybe to attract prospective mates by advertising their virility?
for sure, the feminists will have something to say about that. if you follow the logic, since only men have testicles, then it means only men are capable of courage. which, of course, is like saying our politicians are not capable of cheating.
if i remember right, filipinos lost a major battle in the philippine american war thanks to that particular association. while preparing his defenses, general antonio luna learned that a subordinate he had just reprimanded dissed him, saying if he had the balls then he should come discipline him. naturally, the general, notorious for his short fuse, was furious. he took a part of his troops with him to face the subordinate, abandoning the rest. unfortunately, while the general was out proving his anatomy, the americans came and broke through the filipino defenses.
thus did 'balls' lead the revolution to its doom.
Monday, June 04, 2007
the genie in the goblet
taken with my old camera phone, hence the image quality:
the genie in the goblet
mrs. genie
major headache
ahhh what wonders boredom can do to your creativity...
the genie in the goblet
mrs. genie
major headache
ahhh what wonders boredom can do to your creativity...
Monday, May 28, 2007
Thursday, May 10, 2007
the art of farting
i farted. in public.
it happened in the gym. after a few minutes jogging at the treadmill, i went over to the water cooler for a drink. i was pondering the merits of hale's second album (it sucked. don't buy it.), and then BAM! it happened.
it may have been because of the kamote-q i had earlier for snacks. kamote has a very bad reputation of making one's tummy full of gas. consider yourself warned.
fortunately, none of the people there actually knew me, and none of them was directly near me when it happened. but nonetheless, it happened. i farted. in public. in public!!! and that fart brought with it my own embarassment.
those who have cared to think about farts have classified them into three categories. first, the loud and proud fart. this is more comparable to a dog whose bark is louder than it's bite. it announces its presence to the world ("hello! i am a fart. nice to meet you.") and then is gone. second, the silent but deadly fart. these ones are like assassins lurking in the shadows, or more appropriately, nerve gas. very hard to detect, you never really know that it's just floating there until it assaults your olfactory system and it's too late, you're a goner. and lastly, the wet and wild fart. don't even ask.
unluckily for me, it was the loud and proud kind of fart. well, not really loud in the booming kind of way. it was more like a sharp sound, made even sharper by my own shame. from the sound of it, it was as if my insides were full of air heaving mightily to get out, and my sphincter in a valiant yet futile attempt to stop it. but the fart sounded loud enough for me to hear even if i still had my earphones on, playing music at full volume.
for a moment, i considered fleeing from the scene of the crime. but that would only have confirmed my own guilt in front of everybody. just when my embarassment reached the intensity enough to tear myself apart, then my psychological defense mechanisms started kicking in.
phase one: denial. "no, they couldn't have heard it... but then i heard it! and i have my earphones on full volume! oh crap..."
phase two: delusion. "i'll just imagine it didn't happen. everything is all right with the world. tralalalala..." but my delusions were too flimsy to carry the weight of my embarassment: "shit... it's not working".
so on to phase three: defiance. "so what if they heard me fart? who cares if they make of fun of me? if they make fun of me, then i'll... i'll... aaaaarggghh!!!"
finally, phase four: acceptance.
so i farted. i would rather have the good air in and the bad air out. anyway, i think it's unhealthy to withhold your fart when your body deems it necessary to be withdrawn. better outside than in.
so i farted. to be human means to fart. i fart, therefore i am. i can think of it as a confirmation that i am normal. everybody farts, so why trouble myself? you and me, kings and queens, presidents and popes, and even angelic beings like angel locsin, angel aquino, and angelina jolie, we all fart. i remember michel de montaigne saying: "upon the highest throne in the world, we are seated, still, on our asses."
so i farted. to live in denial of your ability to fart is to live in denial of your own body. and farting is, by design, part of the package. unless of course you're a mutant, or an alien, or a cyborg. chances are, you're not. so why do we keep demanding from ourselves that we not fart, when it is part of our nature to? again, montaigne: "it is not clever of man to tailor his obligations to the standards of a different kind of being", be it mutant, alien, or cyborg.
so i farted. we seem to live under the notion that we are and should be in total control of our bodies. but we don't, and we can't. mind doesn't always come over matter. we fart in the company of strangers. we stink, burp, feel the urge to piss or shit, or even get horny at moments we need it most not to. and yet that is the most natural thing that can happen to us. the least we can do is live with it, and not tear ourselves apart on the occasional rebellion of some of our body parts.
so i farted. at least i am here able to fart, and able to hear myself fart. so i cherish these days when i can still fart, and hear myself fart, for the day is coming when i will be no longer able to do that. and that day is coming for us all.
that last one really hit me. oh boy, was i happy i farted.
disclaimer: i am not encouraging everyone to take up the license to fart freely and proudly in public. that would be plain rude. and it certainly won't endear you to anyone.
and that is how i lived with the embarrassment of having farted in public.
it happened in the gym. after a few minutes jogging at the treadmill, i went over to the water cooler for a drink. i was pondering the merits of hale's second album (it sucked. don't buy it.), and then BAM! it happened.
it may have been because of the kamote-q i had earlier for snacks. kamote has a very bad reputation of making one's tummy full of gas. consider yourself warned.
fortunately, none of the people there actually knew me, and none of them was directly near me when it happened. but nonetheless, it happened. i farted. in public. in public!!! and that fart brought with it my own embarassment.
those who have cared to think about farts have classified them into three categories. first, the loud and proud fart. this is more comparable to a dog whose bark is louder than it's bite. it announces its presence to the world ("hello! i am a fart. nice to meet you.") and then is gone. second, the silent but deadly fart. these ones are like assassins lurking in the shadows, or more appropriately, nerve gas. very hard to detect, you never really know that it's just floating there until it assaults your olfactory system and it's too late, you're a goner. and lastly, the wet and wild fart. don't even ask.
unluckily for me, it was the loud and proud kind of fart. well, not really loud in the booming kind of way. it was more like a sharp sound, made even sharper by my own shame. from the sound of it, it was as if my insides were full of air heaving mightily to get out, and my sphincter in a valiant yet futile attempt to stop it. but the fart sounded loud enough for me to hear even if i still had my earphones on, playing music at full volume.
for a moment, i considered fleeing from the scene of the crime. but that would only have confirmed my own guilt in front of everybody. just when my embarassment reached the intensity enough to tear myself apart, then my psychological defense mechanisms started kicking in.
phase one: denial. "no, they couldn't have heard it... but then i heard it! and i have my earphones on full volume! oh crap..."
phase two: delusion. "i'll just imagine it didn't happen. everything is all right with the world. tralalalala..." but my delusions were too flimsy to carry the weight of my embarassment: "shit... it's not working".
so on to phase three: defiance. "so what if they heard me fart? who cares if they make of fun of me? if they make fun of me, then i'll... i'll... aaaaarggghh!!!"
finally, phase four: acceptance.
so i farted. i would rather have the good air in and the bad air out. anyway, i think it's unhealthy to withhold your fart when your body deems it necessary to be withdrawn. better outside than in.
so i farted. to be human means to fart. i fart, therefore i am. i can think of it as a confirmation that i am normal. everybody farts, so why trouble myself? you and me, kings and queens, presidents and popes, and even angelic beings like angel locsin, angel aquino, and angelina jolie, we all fart. i remember michel de montaigne saying: "upon the highest throne in the world, we are seated, still, on our asses."
so i farted. to live in denial of your ability to fart is to live in denial of your own body. and farting is, by design, part of the package. unless of course you're a mutant, or an alien, or a cyborg. chances are, you're not. so why do we keep demanding from ourselves that we not fart, when it is part of our nature to? again, montaigne: "it is not clever of man to tailor his obligations to the standards of a different kind of being", be it mutant, alien, or cyborg.
so i farted. we seem to live under the notion that we are and should be in total control of our bodies. but we don't, and we can't. mind doesn't always come over matter. we fart in the company of strangers. we stink, burp, feel the urge to piss or shit, or even get horny at moments we need it most not to. and yet that is the most natural thing that can happen to us. the least we can do is live with it, and not tear ourselves apart on the occasional rebellion of some of our body parts.
so i farted. at least i am here able to fart, and able to hear myself fart. so i cherish these days when i can still fart, and hear myself fart, for the day is coming when i will be no longer able to do that. and that day is coming for us all.
that last one really hit me. oh boy, was i happy i farted.
disclaimer: i am not encouraging everyone to take up the license to fart freely and proudly in public. that would be plain rude. and it certainly won't endear you to anyone.
and that is how i lived with the embarrassment of having farted in public.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
hoy lover boy!
if you're reading this, you know who you are. honestly, after everything you've said, i *STILL* don't get what your problem is. you're scared she'd be bored with you? you never know, she's also scared you'd be bored with her. that i believe is a very invalid consideration. [syntax error. please delete from thought process.]
as for her weird mood swings, we all know how girls can be, with their monthly transformations from sweet little thing to fire breathing dragon. they can't help it, it's in their body chemistry. but that means you'll have to live with it though. it's a burden all men must face, unless you've chosen to be celibate.
you're not sure that what you feel for her is "LOVE"? you want to make sure that it's actually "LOVE" before you formalize things with her? ahh, "LOVE", the word that has brought so many great men to their knees and so many brave warriors to lose courage. well, i think you're right. what you feel for her right now is *NOT* yet "LOVE", but mere infatuation. but it *ALWAYS* starts that way. right now, when you're with her, you still have that feeling that your stomach is in knots and your heart is doing somersaults. but one day, that feeling will dull, die, and be gone. our brains, according to this article from national geographic, can't maintain the intense neural activity of infatuation. that's when "LOVE" is supposed to take over. "LOVE" is not some sensation you wait for to happen, it's something you decide to do and work on along the way. "Does love not sprout from need/ but choice?", the poet angelo suarez wrote. i used to think otherwise, but now i'm starting to agree with him.
so what the hell are you waiting for? GET A MOVE ON BOY!
unless, of course, you're set on buying me that pizza... dapat yellow cab ha... dugay na sad raba ko wa katilaw ug yellow cab :P
P.S. nya pakapini sad diay ug coke, matuk-an nya ko...
as for her weird mood swings, we all know how girls can be, with their monthly transformations from sweet little thing to fire breathing dragon. they can't help it, it's in their body chemistry. but that means you'll have to live with it though. it's a burden all men must face, unless you've chosen to be celibate.
you're not sure that what you feel for her is "LOVE"? you want to make sure that it's actually "LOVE" before you formalize things with her? ahh, "LOVE", the word that has brought so many great men to their knees and so many brave warriors to lose courage. well, i think you're right. what you feel for her right now is *NOT* yet "LOVE", but mere infatuation. but it *ALWAYS* starts that way. right now, when you're with her, you still have that feeling that your stomach is in knots and your heart is doing somersaults. but one day, that feeling will dull, die, and be gone. our brains, according to this article from national geographic, can't maintain the intense neural activity of infatuation. that's when "LOVE" is supposed to take over. "LOVE" is not some sensation you wait for to happen, it's something you decide to do and work on along the way. "Does love not sprout from need/ but choice?", the poet angelo suarez wrote. i used to think otherwise, but now i'm starting to agree with him.
so what the hell are you waiting for? GET A MOVE ON BOY!
unless, of course, you're set on buying me that pizza... dapat yellow cab ha... dugay na sad raba ko wa katilaw ug yellow cab :P
P.S. nya pakapini sad diay ug coke, matuk-an nya ko...
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
the mayorship of mandaue is a family heirloom
they've started campaigning. in our little neighborhood's basketball court, they've setup this stage w/ loud speakers for maximum broadcast range. but they actually started way before the campaign period, when they proceeded polluting the streets with their names and their ugly faces.
the presentors seem to be alternating between entertainers and the campaign people. first a dance number, then a speaker comes on stage singing praises to this candidate and that, then a song number from someone who probably failed in his bid to enter star in a million or philippine idol, and then another speaker declaring his candidates as qualified for sainthood, and then another dance number, so on and so forth.
from what i'm hearing, these people are all running for positions in mandaue city hall. and they seem to be campaigning for jonkie ouano's team. yes, ouano, as in the incumbent teddy ouano's son. it's still early, so i haven't made my mind up yet as to who i'm voting for mayor. but one thing's for sure, i'm not voting for jonkie ouano.
i have this nagging suspicion that the ouanos consider the office of the mayor of the city of mandaue as some sort of family property to be passed on from one generation to another. jonkie's grandfather alfredo "pedong" ouano had already been mayor since the 80's (i think) through much of the 90's. and then jonkie's father thadeo "teddy" ouano took over in 1998. this being teddy's last term, he has now anointed his son as successor. so if he wins, jonkie will be the 3rd generation ouano to become mayor of mandaue.
and what makes my suspicions worse is that jonkie is practically a neophyte in mandaue city politics. he didn't even get himself elected as city councilor or vice mayor or even baranggay captain in mandaue. from out of nowhere, he just jumped straight to the position of mayor for no other foreseeable reason than that he is his father's son, just like his father before him. the other candidates are way more experienced than him, ading seno, for instance, having been teddy's vice mayor for his past 3 terms, and jonas cortes having experience in the city council.
the argument that teddy has been pushing to promote jonkie's candidacy is that jonkie can continue teddy's own programs. but that is, of course, premised on the fact that anyone else, or anyone not holding the surname ouano, can't do anything good for the city.
and when he says jonkie can continue *his* programs, then that also means that teddy won't be disappearing from the city hall picture anytime soon. those are *his* programs, so who better to manage it, right? at the very least, he'll stay on in his capacity as 'adviser'. at worst, he'll be a puppet master pulling the strings from behind. i think the framers of the 1987 constitution had a good reason when they institutionalized the idea of term limits.
my mother's 'suki' tricycle driver has also been campaigning for jonkie. he says: "why should we vote for someone new? anyone we'll be voting into office will still become corrupt anyway, so we might as well vote for what's tried and tested." right. brilliant. the logic is impeccable. after hearing him say that i so wanted to go and kick him in the head.
don't they all get it? that's what the vote is for you morons! it's supposed to make those we vote for feel accountable, that the position is not there for them to enrich themselves, but to make the city/town/baranggay/district/province/nation go forward. if we continue thinking that way, then we might as well tell the spaniards to enslave us all over again. ironically, the ones who say the same thing as our tricycle driver tend to be the ones who bellyache later on once the elections are over. and even scarier, i am finding even more and more people thinking the same way as him.
but of course, we live in the philippines, land of the free, free enough to limit our options between cheaters and thieves for our leaders. we live in the philippines, 'lupang hinirang, duyan ka ng magiting', 'magiting' enough to let the cheaters and thieves get away with it.
the opposition divided, i'm inclined to vote for the strongest and the most winnable of jonkie's opponents, but what makes the choice a lot more difficult is that those perceived to be winnable, jonas cortes and ading seno, themselves have had fathers or forefathers who also parked their butts on the mayor's chair.
mandaue may have gone far the past 100 years, but some things never change. still only those with noble blood have the right to the throne.
the presentors seem to be alternating between entertainers and the campaign people. first a dance number, then a speaker comes on stage singing praises to this candidate and that, then a song number from someone who probably failed in his bid to enter star in a million or philippine idol, and then another speaker declaring his candidates as qualified for sainthood, and then another dance number, so on and so forth.
from what i'm hearing, these people are all running for positions in mandaue city hall. and they seem to be campaigning for jonkie ouano's team. yes, ouano, as in the incumbent teddy ouano's son. it's still early, so i haven't made my mind up yet as to who i'm voting for mayor. but one thing's for sure, i'm not voting for jonkie ouano.
i have this nagging suspicion that the ouanos consider the office of the mayor of the city of mandaue as some sort of family property to be passed on from one generation to another. jonkie's grandfather alfredo "pedong" ouano had already been mayor since the 80's (i think) through much of the 90's. and then jonkie's father thadeo "teddy" ouano took over in 1998. this being teddy's last term, he has now anointed his son as successor. so if he wins, jonkie will be the 3rd generation ouano to become mayor of mandaue.
and what makes my suspicions worse is that jonkie is practically a neophyte in mandaue city politics. he didn't even get himself elected as city councilor or vice mayor or even baranggay captain in mandaue. from out of nowhere, he just jumped straight to the position of mayor for no other foreseeable reason than that he is his father's son, just like his father before him. the other candidates are way more experienced than him, ading seno, for instance, having been teddy's vice mayor for his past 3 terms, and jonas cortes having experience in the city council.
the argument that teddy has been pushing to promote jonkie's candidacy is that jonkie can continue teddy's own programs. but that is, of course, premised on the fact that anyone else, or anyone not holding the surname ouano, can't do anything good for the city.
and when he says jonkie can continue *his* programs, then that also means that teddy won't be disappearing from the city hall picture anytime soon. those are *his* programs, so who better to manage it, right? at the very least, he'll stay on in his capacity as 'adviser'. at worst, he'll be a puppet master pulling the strings from behind. i think the framers of the 1987 constitution had a good reason when they institutionalized the idea of term limits.
my mother's 'suki' tricycle driver has also been campaigning for jonkie. he says: "why should we vote for someone new? anyone we'll be voting into office will still become corrupt anyway, so we might as well vote for what's tried and tested." right. brilliant. the logic is impeccable. after hearing him say that i so wanted to go and kick him in the head.
don't they all get it? that's what the vote is for you morons! it's supposed to make those we vote for feel accountable, that the position is not there for them to enrich themselves, but to make the city/town/baranggay/district/province/nation go forward. if we continue thinking that way, then we might as well tell the spaniards to enslave us all over again. ironically, the ones who say the same thing as our tricycle driver tend to be the ones who bellyache later on once the elections are over. and even scarier, i am finding even more and more people thinking the same way as him.
but of course, we live in the philippines, land of the free, free enough to limit our options between cheaters and thieves for our leaders. we live in the philippines, 'lupang hinirang, duyan ka ng magiting', 'magiting' enough to let the cheaters and thieves get away with it.
the opposition divided, i'm inclined to vote for the strongest and the most winnable of jonkie's opponents, but what makes the choice a lot more difficult is that those perceived to be winnable, jonas cortes and ading seno, themselves have had fathers or forefathers who also parked their butts on the mayor's chair.
mandaue may have gone far the past 100 years, but some things never change. still only those with noble blood have the right to the throne.
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
beer and the meaning of existence
published 04/21/07 in the blog plug section of sunstar cebu's weekend magazine
#################################
my soul may just have died, i think, and it's all because of beer.
it happened like this. after months of unbroken sobriety, i finally had my first drink of beer last weekend. an officemate, marlon, was holding his despidida because he found another job in singapore, joining an already numerous group of former officemates working in the city state.
i actually had reservations on going. i knew alcohol would be involved (it always is on all of my officemates' despididas), and i just had a surgery 2 months ago. but my doctor did say that i could now go back to my old lifestyle, and my old lifestyle did include a measure of beer every now and then, especially on special occasions. so if he says it's ok, then nothing should go wrong with me (i hope). so off i went.
i didn't really drink that much in the party. the beer wasn't enough to make me puke on the street and turn my brain to mush, just enough to loosen us all up and make the party a jolly occasion. but i used to have a low regard for people who drink alcohol. the resulting euphoria was not real in the sense that it wasn't derived from thought and experience, but chemically induced. and following that, i saw no difference between beer drinkers and drug addicts. but discovering the joys of drinking later on, let's just say i've changed my position on that matter.
so the night wore on, and eventually the discussion reached the topic of the weird effects of alcohol.
alcohol has different, sometimes weird, sometimes funny effects on people. some become so jolly that when sufficiently soused they will laugh for no reason at all (that's me). some suddenly become all quiet. some start speaking gibberish like it was a foreign language. some get violent (w/c in bisaya is called 'mauy'). we have this office mate who is a quiet and mild mannered guy. but when he gets drunk, he's like bruce banner suddenly transforming to the incredible hulk, a green imposing mass of pure rage. some can even take a piss anywhere they feel the urge to do so (i remember another officemate...). it's like in that song by the eraserheads that goes: 'CR mo ang buong mundo'. thinking about all that, that's when it hit me.
it's a strange thing no, when your mood, and by extension, your outlook in life and your way of thinking, can so easily be altered by some substance or drug. it somehow runs against the proposition of man being a spiritual creature. how can there be a spirit, or a soul, or whatever you call it, that is supposed to be separate from the one's physical nature when it can be influenced by one chemical or other?
there are actually some religious groups, like the rastafarians, who commune with their deity by smoking marijuana. the oracles of ancient greece were known to be exposed to mind altering fumes, and the resulting gibberish from their mouths the priests interpreted to be messages from the gods, like in the movie 300.
we already have pills like uppers (to make us happy) and downers (to make us sad, or at least less happy), both easily prescribed by our friendly neighborhood psychiatrist. but imagine having a pill for, say, passion, or excitement, or romance, or contentment, or even peace of mind. do you feel depressed? take a pill! you've lost passion for your job? take a pill! you no longer love your wife of 40 years? take a pill! you feel that your life is a hassle and you want to end it all by jumping off a bridge? take a pill!
scientists are now beginning to understand the workings of the brain, albeit slowly. they've already mapped which parts of the brain function for emotion, and behavior, and sensation, and basic motion. and using an MRI to scan the brain, they can even read (sort of) what thoughts are going on in your head by measuring the blood flow in your brain. once science has fully understood the brain, the possibilities of what we can do scares me.
and when that time comes, the essence of humanity, of what it means to exist, is reduced to that of being a machine. we will be nothing more than living, breathing, thinking machines, no better than robots. it somehow robs us of a reason, of meaning, in our existence. we just happen to be here because we are here, period.
even sentience has a price, and it isn't cheap. my thoughts are beginning to scare me.
that must be why i get so envious of my cat miming every time i see her get her siesta. all she does is eat, sleep, and hunt for mice and roaches. and she doesn't have the facility to torture herself with thought. i'm starting to think we humans actually got the raw end of the deal.
but what do we do about it? do we despair over it and ruin our day?
i say, let's just swallow the possibility, believe whatever you want to believe, and get back to the business of living. we happen to be here, we might as well enjoy the ride.
some of you philosopher types may now be punching wholes in my line of thinking. but either way the debate ends up, soul or no soul, doesn't make our time here less precious. and the prospect of having no soul actually makes it even more so. if we have no soul, and it follows, no afterlife, then our time here is the only one we've got.
now, if they only had a pill for hangovers, then that would be really great...
#################################
my soul may just have died, i think, and it's all because of beer.
it happened like this. after months of unbroken sobriety, i finally had my first drink of beer last weekend. an officemate, marlon, was holding his despidida because he found another job in singapore, joining an already numerous group of former officemates working in the city state.
i actually had reservations on going. i knew alcohol would be involved (it always is on all of my officemates' despididas), and i just had a surgery 2 months ago. but my doctor did say that i could now go back to my old lifestyle, and my old lifestyle did include a measure of beer every now and then, especially on special occasions. so if he says it's ok, then nothing should go wrong with me (i hope). so off i went.
i didn't really drink that much in the party. the beer wasn't enough to make me puke on the street and turn my brain to mush, just enough to loosen us all up and make the party a jolly occasion. but i used to have a low regard for people who drink alcohol. the resulting euphoria was not real in the sense that it wasn't derived from thought and experience, but chemically induced. and following that, i saw no difference between beer drinkers and drug addicts. but discovering the joys of drinking later on, let's just say i've changed my position on that matter.
so the night wore on, and eventually the discussion reached the topic of the weird effects of alcohol.
alcohol has different, sometimes weird, sometimes funny effects on people. some become so jolly that when sufficiently soused they will laugh for no reason at all (that's me). some suddenly become all quiet. some start speaking gibberish like it was a foreign language. some get violent (w/c in bisaya is called 'mauy'). we have this office mate who is a quiet and mild mannered guy. but when he gets drunk, he's like bruce banner suddenly transforming to the incredible hulk, a green imposing mass of pure rage. some can even take a piss anywhere they feel the urge to do so (i remember another officemate...). it's like in that song by the eraserheads that goes: 'CR mo ang buong mundo'. thinking about all that, that's when it hit me.
it's a strange thing no, when your mood, and by extension, your outlook in life and your way of thinking, can so easily be altered by some substance or drug. it somehow runs against the proposition of man being a spiritual creature. how can there be a spirit, or a soul, or whatever you call it, that is supposed to be separate from the one's physical nature when it can be influenced by one chemical or other?
there are actually some religious groups, like the rastafarians, who commune with their deity by smoking marijuana. the oracles of ancient greece were known to be exposed to mind altering fumes, and the resulting gibberish from their mouths the priests interpreted to be messages from the gods, like in the movie 300.
we already have pills like uppers (to make us happy) and downers (to make us sad, or at least less happy), both easily prescribed by our friendly neighborhood psychiatrist. but imagine having a pill for, say, passion, or excitement, or romance, or contentment, or even peace of mind. do you feel depressed? take a pill! you've lost passion for your job? take a pill! you no longer love your wife of 40 years? take a pill! you feel that your life is a hassle and you want to end it all by jumping off a bridge? take a pill!
scientists are now beginning to understand the workings of the brain, albeit slowly. they've already mapped which parts of the brain function for emotion, and behavior, and sensation, and basic motion. and using an MRI to scan the brain, they can even read (sort of) what thoughts are going on in your head by measuring the blood flow in your brain. once science has fully understood the brain, the possibilities of what we can do scares me.
and when that time comes, the essence of humanity, of what it means to exist, is reduced to that of being a machine. we will be nothing more than living, breathing, thinking machines, no better than robots. it somehow robs us of a reason, of meaning, in our existence. we just happen to be here because we are here, period.
even sentience has a price, and it isn't cheap. my thoughts are beginning to scare me.
that must be why i get so envious of my cat miming every time i see her get her siesta. all she does is eat, sleep, and hunt for mice and roaches. and she doesn't have the facility to torture herself with thought. i'm starting to think we humans actually got the raw end of the deal.
but what do we do about it? do we despair over it and ruin our day?
i say, let's just swallow the possibility, believe whatever you want to believe, and get back to the business of living. we happen to be here, we might as well enjoy the ride.
some of you philosopher types may now be punching wholes in my line of thinking. but either way the debate ends up, soul or no soul, doesn't make our time here less precious. and the prospect of having no soul actually makes it even more so. if we have no soul, and it follows, no afterlife, then our time here is the only one we've got.
now, if they only had a pill for hangovers, then that would be really great...
Monday, March 26, 2007
stupid spartans: my review of the movie '300'
almost everyone has been giving their own 2 cents on the matter, so i'm jumping on the bandwagon and giving my own :)
#####################################################
when you say 'spartan', the first thing that comes to my mind isn't the small brave band of greek warriors and their king valiantly defending a small mountain pass from an overwhelmingly huge persian army trying to invade greece. the first thing that i actually think about is 'tsinelas'. but of course, the movie 300 has nothing to do with footwear.
i went to cinema 1 of ayala center cebu expecting at least some amusement. but i didn't expect to get some before the movie started. while waiting for the movie to start, i had the funny misfortune of having budoy of pinoy big brother and junior kilat fame suddenly appearing and then sitting right *in front* of me. the towering structure on top of his head (which i presume to be his hair, if not a radio antenna or a bunch of snakes) partially blocked my view of the movie screen. i had to reposition myself a couple of times so i had an unobstructed view of the movie.
in a nutshell, the movie is basically a stylized storytelling of the battle of thermopylae (a.k.a. the "hot gates") based on the graphic novel by frank miller, where according to greek history, the spartan king leonidas led a small force of 300 men against an invading persian army numbering in the hundreds of thousands. like the previous movie based on miller's comic book sin city, the visuals of 300 adopted the look and feel of the comic book.
the movie actually reminded me of the lord of the rings. the persian emperor xerxes was leading an army of orcs, ogres, grenade throwing wizards, and even mumakil from the return of the king. the whole movie was essentially an extended lord of the rings battle scene. when the mumakil... i mean, elephants, came to attack the spartan positions, i half expected legolas to come out and slay the beasts. the movie was also accused of being racist (the bad guys were either black or arab looking, if not orcish). wait... wasn't lord of the rings accused of being racist also? hmmm...
i think most guys have the same favorite scene in the movie. c'mon people... don't be afraid to admit it... yes, *OUR* favorite scene was the dancing oracle---in semi nude. if only we had fortune tellers like *those* instead of strange old ladies like madam auring, then maybe we'd listen to them more.
xerxes the emperor (empress?) of persia was hilarious. i expected him (or her) to be more like sauron from lord of the rings, wearing thick iron armor, a big helmet showing eyes flaming red, and with a huge battle club in hand. but xerxes as a club fag? hahahaha... who would've thought of that?
and what's with the hunchback dude ephialtes? all it took for him to betray leonidas was neither gold nor glory, but a visit to the nearby strip club and a uniform (he tells xerxes, "i want a uniform!" ... huh?!). as my friend chick succinctly put it: "nadala ra sa pautog".
and poor queen gorgo. she had to sacrifice her ass (literally) to the evil politician dude theron ("this will not be over quickly. you will not enjoy this," he tells her) so she could get the chance to speak before the spartan council and convince them to send reinforcements and save her husband. yet it was all too late. but at least she had her revenge. he... uhh... "stabbed" her first, so she stabs him back, but this time with a *REAL* sword. now that's what i call justice.
unfortunately for leonidas, the movie portrays him and his 300 warriors as brave... and brainless. they were so brave (and brainless) they went into battle bare chested with no armor whatsoever (the unrestrained display of chiseled chests and six-pack abs served as an extremely effective form of advertising for fitness gyms the world over). they were so brave (and brainless) they went into battle with the odds of 300 to 100,000 X N where N > 1 (if you *really* want to know, you can research the value of N). and they were so brave (and brainless) they were actually *convinced* they could win (again the question... huh?!). apparently, spartan culture valued bravery over wisdom.
if stupidity is in the genes, it's a good thing leonidas and his 300 brainlessly brave warriors all died in thermopylae. we wouldn't any more of their DNA spreading in the human gene pool, or else the species homo sapiens would have been extinct by now...
..but judging by the way some of our own congressmen and cabinet members are doing, i guess they *DID* spread their DNA. we're doomed.
#####################################################
when you say 'spartan', the first thing that comes to my mind isn't the small brave band of greek warriors and their king valiantly defending a small mountain pass from an overwhelmingly huge persian army trying to invade greece. the first thing that i actually think about is 'tsinelas'. but of course, the movie 300 has nothing to do with footwear.
i went to cinema 1 of ayala center cebu expecting at least some amusement. but i didn't expect to get some before the movie started. while waiting for the movie to start, i had the funny misfortune of having budoy of pinoy big brother and junior kilat fame suddenly appearing and then sitting right *in front* of me. the towering structure on top of his head (which i presume to be his hair, if not a radio antenna or a bunch of snakes) partially blocked my view of the movie screen. i had to reposition myself a couple of times so i had an unobstructed view of the movie.
in a nutshell, the movie is basically a stylized storytelling of the battle of thermopylae (a.k.a. the "hot gates") based on the graphic novel by frank miller, where according to greek history, the spartan king leonidas led a small force of 300 men against an invading persian army numbering in the hundreds of thousands. like the previous movie based on miller's comic book sin city, the visuals of 300 adopted the look and feel of the comic book.
the movie actually reminded me of the lord of the rings. the persian emperor xerxes was leading an army of orcs, ogres, grenade throwing wizards, and even mumakil from the return of the king. the whole movie was essentially an extended lord of the rings battle scene. when the mumakil... i mean, elephants, came to attack the spartan positions, i half expected legolas to come out and slay the beasts. the movie was also accused of being racist (the bad guys were either black or arab looking, if not orcish). wait... wasn't lord of the rings accused of being racist also? hmmm...
i think most guys have the same favorite scene in the movie. c'mon people... don't be afraid to admit it... yes, *OUR* favorite scene was the dancing oracle---in semi nude. if only we had fortune tellers like *those* instead of strange old ladies like madam auring, then maybe we'd listen to them more.
xerxes the emperor (empress?) of persia was hilarious. i expected him (or her) to be more like sauron from lord of the rings, wearing thick iron armor, a big helmet showing eyes flaming red, and with a huge battle club in hand. but xerxes as a club fag? hahahaha... who would've thought of that?
and what's with the hunchback dude ephialtes? all it took for him to betray leonidas was neither gold nor glory, but a visit to the nearby strip club and a uniform (he tells xerxes, "i want a uniform!" ... huh?!). as my friend chick succinctly put it: "nadala ra sa pautog".
and poor queen gorgo. she had to sacrifice her ass (literally) to the evil politician dude theron ("this will not be over quickly. you will not enjoy this," he tells her) so she could get the chance to speak before the spartan council and convince them to send reinforcements and save her husband. yet it was all too late. but at least she had her revenge. he... uhh... "stabbed" her first, so she stabs him back, but this time with a *REAL* sword. now that's what i call justice.
unfortunately for leonidas, the movie portrays him and his 300 warriors as brave... and brainless. they were so brave (and brainless) they went into battle bare chested with no armor whatsoever (the unrestrained display of chiseled chests and six-pack abs served as an extremely effective form of advertising for fitness gyms the world over). they were so brave (and brainless) they went into battle with the odds of 300 to 100,000 X N where N > 1 (if you *really* want to know, you can research the value of N). and they were so brave (and brainless) they were actually *convinced* they could win (again the question... huh?!). apparently, spartan culture valued bravery over wisdom.
if stupidity is in the genes, it's a good thing leonidas and his 300 brainlessly brave warriors all died in thermopylae. we wouldn't any more of their DNA spreading in the human gene pool, or else the species homo sapiens would have been extinct by now...
..but judging by the way some of our own congressmen and cabinet members are doing, i guess they *DID* spread their DNA. we're doomed.
Friday, March 23, 2007
assholes
the assholes who call themselves congressmen are at it again:
Congress pork doubles in ’07 budget
Pork used to buy overpriced fertilizer
Congress pork doubles in ’07 budget
Pork used to buy overpriced fertilizer
Friday, March 09, 2007
mathematical error
from the philippine daily inquirer:
According to Legarda, the fact that the survey was done by a US firm with 1,500 respondents nationwide -- 200 more than SWS’s usual 1,200 -- “added authority” to the results.
According to Legarda, the fact that the survey was done by a US firm with 1,500 respondents nationwide -- 200 more than SWS’s usual 1,200 -- “added authority” to the results.
Monday, March 05, 2007
the frustrated fan
my heart breaks. and no, not because the girl of my dreams turned me down. my heart breaks because the san miguel beermen just lost the 2007 pba philippine cup championship to baranggay ginebra in 6 games.
and with that, coach chot reyes gains the ignominy of being the only coach in pba history to have gained a 2-0 advantage in a best of seven championship series and have his team lose the next 4 games and the championship. and worse, he will be the only coach in pba history to have that happen to him twice.
i know, coaches tend to be the easiest scapegoats when a team loses. not to take anything away from coach chot, he's done a fine job. this is his first conference with san miguel. and with all the new guys around (which, along with the new coach, essentially makes smb a new team), it's impressive how he was able to make them work together and reach as far as the finals. all that while handling duties as coach of the national team.
but they shouldn't have lost game 4 the way they did. wasn't the 131-101 beating they got in game 3 enough to convince them to make adjustments? well apparently not. their record setting 146-111 game 4 loss was even worse, probably the worst finals loss in pba history.
but really, in that series, baranggay ginebra was simply the better team. coach jong uichico did a great job at the helm. "the fast and the furious" tandem of jayjay helterbrand and mark caguioa ran circles around the san miguel defense. the return of eric menk from injury was an inspiration to the team. there's rudy hatfield running the break and snatching all those improbable rebounds... what planet did this guy come from? ronald tubid proved to be a major nuisance for danny seigle, successfully getting to danny's head every now and then. and we saw flashes of the old johnny a. they deserved the title.
and let's not forget baranggay ginebra's 6th man. the ginebra fans were simply being ginebra fans: loud, exuberant, and numerous. they cheered every shot, every rebound, every steal. they stayed on even when ginebra was down 2-0 in the series and all seemed lost. that is what gives ginebra a distinct advantage over other teams in the pba: wherever they play, they always seem to have what the nba calls "homecourt advantage". it's like whatever court ginebra plays in IS their homecourt.
*******************
it's a strange thing this, being a fan. you consider as yours the fate of a bunch of people who you don't even know personally and haven't even met. you rejoice at their victories. you despair over their defeats. every high and every low the team goes through is yours.
i became a san miguel fan around the mid 90s, which was quite unfortunate. i had read about the glory of the old san miguel team of the late 80s and early 90s, the one with hall of famers like ramon fernandez, samboy lim, hector calma, and then later, allan caidic and ato agustin. but san miguel at that time was an aging shell of its old self. the new teams were dominating, like the vergel meneses led sunkist, and then the grand slam winning alaska, and occasional intrusions by alvin patrimonio's purefoods and the ever popular baranggay ginebra.
but i hung on. somehow, through those times when they almost won (like the 1995 governor's cup or the 1998 all filipino cup, both against alaska and both going to a game 7) or when they simply sucked (like the horrible 1996 commissioner's cup, when they didn't even get through the eliminations), in the back of my head, i believed they were going to start winning again. i kept the faith, even if reality was mocking it.
it's like religion, being a fan. you place your hopes (and your bets) on something which isn't a sure thing. sometimes, your team loses one game after another, and your faith waivers. sometimes you want to switch to what looks like a better religion, i mean team, because their promise of salvation, i mean victory, seems surer.
but then the new guys came. olsen racela, then danny ildefonso, then danny seigle, then nic belasco. and they actually started winning. first, the 1999 commissioner's, then the 1999 governor's. then in 2000 they successfully defended both titles. then in 2001, the most prestigious of the pba crowns, the all filipino, which they won against ginebra also in 6 games (i guess we can call ginebra's recent victory as mark caguioa's revenge). sports commentators were calling it a dynasty. finally, after all those years waiting, there before my very eyes, my team was kicking ass!
it was weird. after all those years waiting, after having invested so much passion and emotion, to actually see it right there on my tv screen... it was just weird. it was like finishing a 13k marathon in first place, but i didn't even do the running. i simply believed, and thus i basked in the reflected glory of their victory. if i may take the religion analogy a bit further at risk of sounding sacrilegious, it was like dying and seeing heaven. my faith had been proven right.
*******************
a friend suggested that if the beermen lost in the finals, coach chot should exclude all ginebra players from the national team. seemed like a farfetched idea at first glance, but now i think about it, if my passion for smb trumped my concern for the country's pride in international basketball, then that would have made some sense.
pushing that further, if i were a really passionate smb fan, i'd have waited outside the gates of araneta coliseum and when, say, mark caguioa or jay-jay helterbrand came out, i (or, if you're not the hands on kind of guy, hired goons) would have them kidnapped for a while, only releasing them once the series was over. wait... didn't i see this in a movie?
this reminds me of a recent piece of world news: the football game riots in italy that led to the death of 1 policeman and the indefinite cancellation of all football matches in all of italy. we can't deny it: they were passionate fans. they lived and breathed their football clubs. they were so passionate, it even drove them to the point of violence against fans of the rival team.
let me be clear about this: i do not advocate the use of violence. my point is, if we can invest so much energy and passion in just watching our sports heroes play (which in itself is of little use to society), imagine what we can do if we divert that energy elsewhere.
with that kind of passion, we can defeat poverty and hunger. we can stop corruption. we can bring true progress to our country. we can slow down and maybe even halt the destruction of our planet. we can change the world!
now, if we could only see living as a sport, then we could make ourselves fans of the world. and like true fans, we'd consider as ours the fate of the world, and then maybe we can make things better for everybody. empathy is the essence of compassion. i can almost hear michael jackson in the background singing "heal the world"...
pardon me, i'm preachifying.
but the next time san miguel and ginebra face off, i will pray to all the basketball gods and basketball saints i can call on (is there a patron saint of basketball? like maybe a saint michael jordan?) so smb can have its revenge. watch out ginebra, your time will come.
and with that, coach chot reyes gains the ignominy of being the only coach in pba history to have gained a 2-0 advantage in a best of seven championship series and have his team lose the next 4 games and the championship. and worse, he will be the only coach in pba history to have that happen to him twice.
i know, coaches tend to be the easiest scapegoats when a team loses. not to take anything away from coach chot, he's done a fine job. this is his first conference with san miguel. and with all the new guys around (which, along with the new coach, essentially makes smb a new team), it's impressive how he was able to make them work together and reach as far as the finals. all that while handling duties as coach of the national team.
but they shouldn't have lost game 4 the way they did. wasn't the 131-101 beating they got in game 3 enough to convince them to make adjustments? well apparently not. their record setting 146-111 game 4 loss was even worse, probably the worst finals loss in pba history.
but really, in that series, baranggay ginebra was simply the better team. coach jong uichico did a great job at the helm. "the fast and the furious" tandem of jayjay helterbrand and mark caguioa ran circles around the san miguel defense. the return of eric menk from injury was an inspiration to the team. there's rudy hatfield running the break and snatching all those improbable rebounds... what planet did this guy come from? ronald tubid proved to be a major nuisance for danny seigle, successfully getting to danny's head every now and then. and we saw flashes of the old johnny a. they deserved the title.
and let's not forget baranggay ginebra's 6th man. the ginebra fans were simply being ginebra fans: loud, exuberant, and numerous. they cheered every shot, every rebound, every steal. they stayed on even when ginebra was down 2-0 in the series and all seemed lost. that is what gives ginebra a distinct advantage over other teams in the pba: wherever they play, they always seem to have what the nba calls "homecourt advantage". it's like whatever court ginebra plays in IS their homecourt.
*******************
it's a strange thing this, being a fan. you consider as yours the fate of a bunch of people who you don't even know personally and haven't even met. you rejoice at their victories. you despair over their defeats. every high and every low the team goes through is yours.
i became a san miguel fan around the mid 90s, which was quite unfortunate. i had read about the glory of the old san miguel team of the late 80s and early 90s, the one with hall of famers like ramon fernandez, samboy lim, hector calma, and then later, allan caidic and ato agustin. but san miguel at that time was an aging shell of its old self. the new teams were dominating, like the vergel meneses led sunkist, and then the grand slam winning alaska, and occasional intrusions by alvin patrimonio's purefoods and the ever popular baranggay ginebra.
but i hung on. somehow, through those times when they almost won (like the 1995 governor's cup or the 1998 all filipino cup, both against alaska and both going to a game 7) or when they simply sucked (like the horrible 1996 commissioner's cup, when they didn't even get through the eliminations), in the back of my head, i believed they were going to start winning again. i kept the faith, even if reality was mocking it.
it's like religion, being a fan. you place your hopes (and your bets) on something which isn't a sure thing. sometimes, your team loses one game after another, and your faith waivers. sometimes you want to switch to what looks like a better religion, i mean team, because their promise of salvation, i mean victory, seems surer.
but then the new guys came. olsen racela, then danny ildefonso, then danny seigle, then nic belasco. and they actually started winning. first, the 1999 commissioner's, then the 1999 governor's. then in 2000 they successfully defended both titles. then in 2001, the most prestigious of the pba crowns, the all filipino, which they won against ginebra also in 6 games (i guess we can call ginebra's recent victory as mark caguioa's revenge). sports commentators were calling it a dynasty. finally, after all those years waiting, there before my very eyes, my team was kicking ass!
it was weird. after all those years waiting, after having invested so much passion and emotion, to actually see it right there on my tv screen... it was just weird. it was like finishing a 13k marathon in first place, but i didn't even do the running. i simply believed, and thus i basked in the reflected glory of their victory. if i may take the religion analogy a bit further at risk of sounding sacrilegious, it was like dying and seeing heaven. my faith had been proven right.
*******************
a friend suggested that if the beermen lost in the finals, coach chot should exclude all ginebra players from the national team. seemed like a farfetched idea at first glance, but now i think about it, if my passion for smb trumped my concern for the country's pride in international basketball, then that would have made some sense.
pushing that further, if i were a really passionate smb fan, i'd have waited outside the gates of araneta coliseum and when, say, mark caguioa or jay-jay helterbrand came out, i (or, if you're not the hands on kind of guy, hired goons) would have them kidnapped for a while, only releasing them once the series was over. wait... didn't i see this in a movie?
this reminds me of a recent piece of world news: the football game riots in italy that led to the death of 1 policeman and the indefinite cancellation of all football matches in all of italy. we can't deny it: they were passionate fans. they lived and breathed their football clubs. they were so passionate, it even drove them to the point of violence against fans of the rival team.
let me be clear about this: i do not advocate the use of violence. my point is, if we can invest so much energy and passion in just watching our sports heroes play (which in itself is of little use to society), imagine what we can do if we divert that energy elsewhere.
with that kind of passion, we can defeat poverty and hunger. we can stop corruption. we can bring true progress to our country. we can slow down and maybe even halt the destruction of our planet. we can change the world!
now, if we could only see living as a sport, then we could make ourselves fans of the world. and like true fans, we'd consider as ours the fate of the world, and then maybe we can make things better for everybody. empathy is the essence of compassion. i can almost hear michael jackson in the background singing "heal the world"...
pardon me, i'm preachifying.
but the next time san miguel and ginebra face off, i will pray to all the basketball gods and basketball saints i can call on (is there a patron saint of basketball? like maybe a saint michael jordan?) so smb can have its revenge. watch out ginebra, your time will come.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
translate this
here's something from an officemate that i've been puzzling over for hours. translate from tagalog to english:
ika-ilang presidente ng pilipinas si gloria macapagal arroyo?
and this is the closest thing i have for an answer:
if gloria macapagal arroyo is the Nth president of the philippines, what is the value of N?
ika-ilang presidente ng pilipinas si gloria macapagal arroyo?
and this is the closest thing i have for an answer:
if gloria macapagal arroyo is the Nth president of the philippines, what is the value of N?
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