sandstorms

Sadurday

2012-01-22T00:05:00.002+08:00

The thing about succumbing to normalcy--having an eight-to-five and being regularly paid (quite well, i must say)--is that weekends feel like a long-drawn gaping yawn.

Number 1 for Fun!

2012-01-07T21:46:00.001+08:00

At first I was like, "Meh." And then I thought, it's just awkwardly long. But now I am sold. When I think about it, everything is indeed more fun here.<3

*spin-off campaign by Roland Benzon, photo by Jay Jallorina

2011-12-22T02:09:00.003+08:00

I only whine once a year. a few years back i couldn't help whining in front of someone. It was hard core whining which scared the hell out of him. Tonight i did my 2011 whine in front of a hot fudge hot caramel McDo sundae duo. And yes, when I thought of CDO and Iligan I whined even more. When I realized I was whining and that it was ridiculous, I whined one last big whine, then drank some water and checked my mail.

Ansaket sa matris!

2011-12-08T00:12:00.003+08:00

Dispatch: Solitary Vigan NIghts

2011-11-21T01:48:00.008+08:00

Wow. I’m in Vigan again. But now for fieldwork and alone for the first time. It’s going to be interesting.

I am billeted in an old house turned quaint inn near the center of the town. It’s 1:23 am right now and I am hearing a group of men from the cafe just across the street sing pop ballads in succession with a guitar like it’s not a working Monday in a few hours. I don’t know why I always feel at home in this town. It’s the same feeling I get when I walk through UST. Maybe it’s because of the old architecture, or maybe I lived here sometime in my previous life or maybe it’s just that my mom used to tell me a lot of stories about these places. My maternal grandfather after all, hailed from Vigan, met my grandmother who is from Tuguegarao and they settled in Aparri to build a (very big) family. I remember finding a set of yellowish nearly-tattered correspondences between my lolo and lola once inside the drawer of a dilapidated mah jong table. I read them, of course, (are you nuts?!) and some were stamped from Vigan to Aparri. They were already married then and my lolo was out for business of some sort and my lola was manning their newly-installed drugstore. What I loved most was that in between serious talk of business and the trivial details, they still managed to squeeze in some thoughtful expressions of endearments which didn’t sound cheesy or contrived.

This evening I was eating my supper in the inn’s cafe: Pipian – that’s chicken soup with ground rice and smashed kamias infused with achuete for color. Across me in the intimately drawn place near the bar was a couple seemingly on holiday and at the other table, three men drinking beer talking about wedding photography. In another section were families of 4 and 5 and in the separate function hall was a group of elderly who seem to be celebrating something. I scanned the menu. Everything was familiar to me. Ilocano dishes that are sinful and flavorful and simple all at the same time. I envied the men drinking beer. I thought of how it must be nice to share a beer with someone else right now. But I smelled the homey aroma of coffee and decided that drinking it with cake later sounds more apt. The beer will come sometime soon. I texted some friends and gushed about the place. Somehow the Christmas lights in the dim-lighted brick-enclosed tableau made me happy and a bit nostalgic.

As I walked along the cobblestoned street of Calle Crisologo to look for an ATM machine, I wondered at how convenient it is to be alone. I never liked being with people whom you have to campaign what you find interesting to. But as I grow older and experience more things, I recognize that the inherent call is to share these to others. Life is too beautiful to keep bottled up. There’s always that urge to make others see what you find fascinating. With that comes disappointment if people did not share your excitement or fear for being responsible for another person’s quality of experience. Those always kept me in containment. And always I dreamed of someone whom I did not have to explain myself to. But I guess God is smart in that he made us different and created a need for communicating. It’s encourages humble effort of reaching out. If everything would have flowed perfectly between and among people, and everybody understood each other automatically, we would have been only be emotional robots.

I'm pretty sure there's an unfinished thought there somewhere but I'm sleepy and there's something in the air that tells me it's okay to let things hang for a while. Every town or city has a personality. To me,Vigan feels like an old friend who is open to new things but knows that it does not need to accumulate these or show-off to look worthy or important. It just lets time take its steady course accumulating stories, even if unfinished, along the way. This confident laid-back quality rubbed off on me somehow. As if I were in a couch dialogue that has spontaneously commenced after supper, with throw pillows and a warm blanket, I've already settled in.

idk why, but this gets to me all the time

2011-10-30T03:51:00.001+08:00

my favorite voice version

my favorite instrumental version

2011-10-29T03:46:00.000+08:00

*image by Grant Snider

2011-10-22T00:47:00.001+08:00

Johnny, the kitchen sink has been clogged for days, some utensil probably fell down there.
And the Drano won't work but smells dangerous, and the crusty dishes have piled up

waiting for the plumber I still haven't called. This is the everyday we spoke of.
It's winter again: the sky's a deep, headstrong blue, and the sunlight pours through

the open living-room windows because the heat's on too high in here and I can't turn it off.
For weeks now, driving, or dropping a bag of groceries in the street, the bag breaking,

I've been thinking: This is what the living do. And yesterday, hurrying along those
wobbly bricks in the Cambridge sidewalk, spilling my coffee down my wrist and sleeve,

I thought it again, and again later, when buying a hairbrush: This is it.
Parking. Slamming the car door shut in the cold. What you called that yearning.

What you finally gave up. We want the spring to come and the winter to pass. We want
whoever to call or not call, a letter, a kiss — we want more and more and then more of it.

But there are moments, walking, when I catch a glimpse of myself in the window glass,
say, the window of the corner video store, and I'm gripped by a cherishing so deep

for my own blowing hair, chapped face, and unbuttoned coat that I'm speechless:
I am living. I remember you.

- What the Living Do, Marie Howe

2011-10-21T13:37:00.001+08:00

Toni showed me this last week. Isn't it delightful? I love cozy corners. <3

2011-10-20T21:23:00.009+08:00

The history of my stupidity would fill many volumes.

Some would be devoted to acting against consciousness,
Like the flight of a moth which, had it known,
Would have tended nevertheless toward the candle's flame.

Others would deal with ways to silence anxiety,
The little whisper which, though it is a warning, is ignored.

I would deal separately with satisfaction and pride,
The time when I was among their adherents
Who strut victoriously, unsuspecting.

But all of them would have one subject, desire,
If only my own -- but no, not at all; alas,
I was driven because I wanted to be like others.
I was afraid of what was wild and indecent in me.

The history of my stupidity will not be written.
For one thing, it's late. And the truth is laborious.

- Account, Czeslaw Milosz

---

We wanted to confess our sins but there were no takers.
White clouds refused to accept them, and the wind
Was too busy visiting sea after sea.
We did not succeed in interesting the animals.
Dogs, disappointed, expected an order,
A cat, as always immoral, was falling asleep.
A person seemingly very close
Did not care to hear of things long past.
Conversations with friends over vodka or coffee
Ought not be prolonged beyond the first sign of boredom.
It would be humiliating to pay by the hour
A man with a diploma, just for listening.
Churches. Perhaps churches. But to confess there what?
That we used to see ourselves as handsome and noble
Yet later in our place an ugly toad
Half-opens its thick eyelid
And one sees clearly: "That's me."

-- At A Certain Age, Czeslaw Milosz

A Sunday's Haircut

2011-10-16T22:58:00.008+08:00

Today, a handsome Korean man cut my hair. He was tall, but not too tall. His long hair was tied in a loose bun. He was wearing a crisp light blue polo which fitted his trim torso well, the cuffs rolled up to reveal the fibrous muscles of his lower arms. His ironed trousers clung just right and he accented his look with a tan medium-width belt. Come to think of it, I did not notice his shoes. But I liked his chunky black watch.

Whenever he was not looking at me through the mirror, I studied his face. Unlike other Korean men, his features were not very feminine. He had just enough eyebrows to frame his chinky eyes. Above his thin lips was a fair amount of moustache which suited him. His aquiline nose complemented the planar quality of his angular face. He looked a little Japanese, and he may very well be a little Japanese. He reminded me so much of Tadanobu Asano. I thought that the faint keloidal scars at the upper side of his jaw which looked like stitches from the past gave his face an interesting texture.

Most of the time though, I looked at his working hands. They were good hands. Not too long, not stubby. Not too smooth with just the right amount of veins showing. His hands worked in swift decisive but careful movements. I wondered at how his whole body worked in the same manner: two feet planted wide apart, facing my side, his upper body tilted backward while his arms were raised to support his hands clipping away. Once he dropped the comb, picked it up, blowed on it and wiped it on his trousers while softly apologizing. Such reverence for a mundane thing such as cutting hair. He made it almost ritualistic. Then he ran his fingers through my hair lightly and slowly. They never tugged.

I remembered you. I never said it but I thought you had beautiful hands. They were definitely softer than mine and I was slightly ashamed of that. I remembered your hands because they had a penchant of softly brushing away hair that would always find their way across my silly face. I remembered your hands and how they'd butterfly across moments I decide I will never put into words. I remember your hands as they dropped a mug on purpose while we were in a seaside resort. It was a cheap simple mug emblazoned with your zodiac sign -- and hers -- you shared the same. Lastly, I remembered your hands as they had been on the metallic table of a fastfood joint, flicking a cigarette, fidgety and ever so remote. It was the last time I saw them unadorned.

For the third time the Korean man asked me if I was okay. I thought it was customary practice in the salon, but that's not it, I realized. I've been coming here every two months for two years now and nobody since asked me that in the middle of a job. Maybe because he was new, it was his way of being friendly, I assumed. I was rather quiet the whole time just smiling a little when he'd look at me from the mirror, shyly revealing a bit of his laugh lines. I was relieved that the language barrier prevented further inquiry. Because, "Yeah," I told him, "I'm okay." And I wanted to leave it like that.

2011-10-09T00:07:00.005+08:00

I think I should relocate to where there is a season called fall and flowers look this way (photo and flower arragement by saipua)

Of taking risks and cancelled trips and how my heart, I insist, is indefatigable

2011-10-08T12:44:00.005+08:00

I hate that I am deliberately missing my Vietnam trip. A few months ago, on a spur of the moment, I booked myself piso fare tickets to Ho Chi Min City. I took the available seats as a sign because they coincided with the Angkor workshop dates perfectly. I applied this year and I was slightly more confident that I'd finally make it. But I did not make it (again) and now I am left with a 10-day trip at the end of November with nothing in particular to do.

I won't go for a number of reasons: One, the Angkor Workshop would take care of my food and lodging and without those, I would be really short of cash. Two, even if I can scrounge up enough for ten days, I am in no mood to move around Indochina alone. Been there, done that. I want company this time. Three, some of my friends whom I told about my booking just in case they'd want to meet up with me after the workshop did book tickets...on earlier dates. Errr, yes. Four, having decided I won't go, I already scheduled fieldwork in Ilocos for those dates.

From the start, I knew it would be a gamble so it's not much of a shock when Angkor emailed me. Still, I'm a bit sad that another opportunity has been jinxed and another ticket shall go unused. Also, I was supposed to go to Batanes with some friends for my birthday. I've been looking forward to it although with some temperance because of a previous devastating canceled Batanes flight experience. When a supertyphoon came on that particular date, even if in my heart of hearts I had an inkling something like this would happen again, it sucked nonetheless.

Now I'm reading about a new international photo workshop in Bangkok for October 2012. And this morning I was tempted to book myself another 12-peso HK or Incheon ticket for March. When will I tire of wanting things so badly and being disappointed in the end? Maybe soon but not yet.

A Prayer of Oscar Romero

2011-10-08T09:29:00.002+08:00

It helps, now and then, to step back and take a long view.
The Kingdom is not only beyond our efforts,
it is even beyond our vision.

We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction
of the magnificent enterprise that is God’s work.

Nothing we do is complete,
which is a way of saying that the Kingdom always lies beyond us.

No statement says all that could be said.
No prayer fully expresses our faith.
No confession brings perfection.
No pastoral visit brings wholeness.
No program accomplishes the Church’s mission.
No set of goals and objectives includes everything.

This is what we are about.
We plant the seeds that one day will grow.
We water seeds already planted,
knowing that they hold future promise.
We lay foundations that will need further development.
We provide yeast that produces effects far beyond our capabilities.

We cannot do everything,
and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that.
This enables us to do something,
and to do it very well.

It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way,
an opportunity for the Lord’s grace to enter and do the rest.

We may never see the end results,
but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker.
We are workers, not master builders;
ministers, not messiahs.
We are prophets of a future that is not our own. Amen.

You did good, Steve!

2011-10-06T14:49:00.003+08:00

I was never into techie geeks but...

I swooned. And besides, if you can be a rockstar in your own field and, in Steve Job's case, in the whole wide world, then you are rockstar enough for me. The world needs more ambitious people.

2011-10-05T22:56:00.000+08:00

Salinger, I’m sorry, but “Don’t ever tell
anybody anything” is a string of words
I would like to wrap up in canvas and sink
to the bottom of the Hudson, or extract
by laser from the ribcage of all of us
who ever believed it, who felt afraid
to miss someone, to be the last one
standing. “Tell everyone everything” is
not exactly right, but I do believe that if
your mother looks radiant in violet
you should tell her, or when a juvenile
sparrow thrashes its wings in dustpiles
and reminds you of a lover’s eyelashes,
you should say so. We are islands all of us,
but we are also boats, our secrets flares,
pyrotechnic devices by which we signal
there’s someone in here we’re still alive!
So maybe it’s, “don’t be afraid.” We can
rewrite Icarus, flame-resistant feathers,
wax that won’t melt, I mean it, I’ll draw up
a prototype right now, that burning ball
of orange won’t stop us, it’ll be everything
we dream the morning after, even if we fall
into the sea—we are boats, remember?
We are pirates. We move in nautical miles.
Each other’s anchors, each other’s buoys,
the rocket’s red, already the world entire.

- Catch a Body, Isle Bendorf

i want to believe (this) again

2011-09-28T03:08:00.001+08:00

This is the true joy in life, being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one. Being a force of nature instead of a feverish, selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy. I am of the opinion that my life belongs to the whole community and as I live it is my privilege - my privilege to do for it whatever I can. I want to be thoroughly used up when I die, for the harder I work the more I love. I rejoice in life for its own sake. Life is no brief candle to me; it is a sort of splendid torch which I've got a hold of for the moment and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it on to future generations.

- George Bernard Shaw

2011-09-27T01:47:00.006+08:00

so just a little confession: i am convinced i will never be good for anyone. it's not that i spread negativity on purpose but it's just that my aura may be emitting this kind of bad luck or something and anyone who i come in contact with is the unfortunate recipient of bad vibes. and i know because whenever people cut ties with me for long periods of time, it seems they turn all glow-y and buoyant--oh: fully functional and productive, let's not forget about that.

did i ever say i don't say "good luck" to anyone? it's been tested, whenever i say this to someone who has a very important endeavor to complete, that person usually fails or something just goes wrong. that's why to greet, i just say, "have fun!" or "enjoy!" even if sometimes these seem a tad inappropriate.

i dreaded group works in college because that meant anyone who'd be be groupmates with me would unfortunately get something less than he/she would prefer. i did fine in personal work, i even got high grades. but everytime other people get involved, it just does not work out the best of ways.

sometimes i choose to distance myself from people. even if i'm feeling extremely lonely and needy or just plain empty, i try to stop myself from initiating long chats or meet-ups for fear of depressing another person. and if other people seem to want my company, i go but if i knew they had another option, i'd do something to make them choose that other option.

sometimes i assess my life and my relationships, and truthfully i think that if, hypothetically, i would die right now, every single person in this earth that i know would go on without a big hitch. sure they will be sad for some weeks (and they won't be able to put a finger on it...it might be just that it seemed such a waste that i had such potential for doing something and making it big or being really something to someone but just.fell.short.) but they will go on. i'm trying to be relieved about that.

2011-09-26T03:32:00.000+08:00

trusting my intuition. mindfulness. attention. courage. kindness. generosity. patience. cura personalis. fortitude. perseverance. humility. hope. BIG WORDS that are fulfilled only in the smallest of ways, but constantly.

i miss having steady routines and good habits.

of omens

2011-09-22T23:06:00.001+08:00

i bumped my knee on the lower edge of the dining table earlier tonight. now it's inflamed and has this big ugly bruise. owww. now i'm kinda concerned. i have lived long enough to identify personal manifestations of bad luck. or maybe it's just a sign of a very edgy subconscious. my friend olie once jokingly taunted me "listen to your body. your body is telling you something!" true enough, every time i hurt myself something more unpleasant follows. i once tripped, got my finger sandwiched between the door and its frame and got my head banged hard onto the ceiling of a tricycle when it lurched over a pothole all in the same day. of course, a few days later would come my personal 9/11. i hope this table incident would bring just a minor hiccup this time.

2011-08-22T02:33:00.001+08:00

yeah, i could totally be productive in this space.

image found at www.theselby.com

2011-07-30T02:38:00.004+08:00

She is so naked and singular
She is the sum of yourself and your dream.
Climb her like a monument, step after step.
She is solid.
As for me, I am a watercolor.
I wash off.

-- Anne Sexton

Day Twenty-three: the 30-day writing challenge

2011-07-27T11:45:00.012+08:00

So many things are happening in the world these days. Journalists' adrenalin levels are at a peak again as they scamper to cover newsworthy occurences around the globe and in the country and beat deadlines. People I know are also having personal and familial upheavals. There are good things and there are bad things but all of them are disorienting.

And then this typhoon.

In Manila, the rain speeds things up while ironically slowing things down. On the road for example, people scurry around like roaches exposed to the light when it rains. PUV drivers get extra irritable, umbrella vendors hawk on a welcome opportunity for more sales. Offices are busier as they make calls to confirm, cancel or postpone meetings and other events. Students are abuzz asking each other whether classes are cancelled or not. That we are in a typhoon-prone area has not improved coping mechanisms and decresed stress about sudden inclement weather.

Yesterday, oblivious of an approaching typhoon, I was at the Rajah Sulayman Lumba Ranao Grand Mosque in Roxas Boulevard documenting internally displaced people (IDPs) in the informal settlement around it. This was for a Japanese visiting researcher who is doing a study on IDPs in the Philippines and wanted snapshots of their normal way of life. Even if it was raining dinosaurs when we got there at 7 a.m., we still did what we could especially because my schedule would not permit us going back anytime soon. I was supposed to go to Baler tomorrow for a 10-day field work with another visiting researcher, a Korean this time, for a study on ICT for farmers. The shoot itself in Roxas was okay but my rubber shoes were soaked and we had to leave by 9 a.m. because most of the people in the community went to the Senate PCSO hearing to voice their support to Margie Juico and PNoy. The rain did not permit us to take good photographs since the area was a tent-communuty and there was not enough shelter for us and our gear. Also, most of the people are holed up inside their houses and were not engaging in their usual activities.

To maximize the day, we headed to Quiapo to document life in an estero at P. Casal, another of the researcher's sites, thinking it might be better there since the area is roofed by the sheer crampedness of the place. One side of the river had Maranao settlers and the other Maguindanaons. We went to the latter. Although I had been to many depressed areas before, it had been my first time to enter an estero community. It's a mystery how hundreds of families lived in lightless two-storey dwellings which when constructed together formed a tunnel running through the stretch of the Pasig River towards the Quiapo Grand Mosque. The uninitiated will find it really unbelievable that so many people inhabit an area accessed only by going down a rickety wooden makeshift ladder at the side of the bridge. The only thing that gives the hidden community away are the parked pedicabs outside.

Anyway, I listened to many stories of the residents and was particularly interested in their comparison of life in Mindanao and life in Manila. Very notable is the fact that even if there are warring tribes in the city, Rido does not follow them here because among them, it is assumed that since they migrated to Manila, they are not interested in conflict and perpetuating it and that all of them despite tribal differences came here to have a peaceful and productive life.

Also interesting is their struggle for land tenure and on-site development via the community mortgage program (CMP). I discovered that these particular Muslim communities were generally pleased with the president. I deduce that among other things, it is because the current administration is very open to dialogue with them about their land tenure issue especially because they are partnered with NGOs and community organizers that are politically aligned with influential cabinet members. I think that this is the best time, more than any, to multiply their efforts at championing their cause.

I also found out that the notion that informal settlers along esteros are dirt-poor is not true. Many of the houses under the bridge had flatscreen HDTVs. Some had laptops and computers and access the internet through wifi. They can and are willing to pay for housing amortization but they want to stay in the area and oppose off-city relocation sites because their employment and businesses are in Manila.

Despite the increased activity and fatigue, this typhoon has in fact slowed things down for me by getting my schedule out of whack. I'd now like to return to the two sites to take more photos in better weather but I won't be able to do that soon because my Baler field work is moved to next week. Despite these turn of events and my contracting a fever, I'm excited about making good photographs in these sites in August.

Day Twenty-one: the 30-day writing challenge

2011-07-25T07:34:00.006+08:00

I was at the Smart/NBA Ultimate All-Star Weekend game last Saturday, standing at the patron box of the newly-renamed Smart Araneta Coliseum. As a photographer of an online media outfit that was supposed to cover collegiate games, I was not part of the roster of accredited photographers who could shoot ringside. I got an Upper A pass which I thought of not using since the area is too far away to get decent shots even for those who had long lenses. But Lai texted me to "GO NA DUDE, SHET!!! SHET!!!"" and "HINDI PINAPALAMPAS YAN ANOBAAAAH," yes, in all caps. So since she also said that upper A tickets cost P1500 (just so you know) I decided to just watch since it was a historic event anyway (which led me to cancel reserved tickets for HP7, but that's another story). This was arguably the biggest sporting event in Philippine history since Thrilla in Manila in the 1975.

I realize so many people would have loved to be in my shoes. While hanging around the media gate, doing reconnaisance and hatching a restricted entrance plan (screw Upper A and watching, I'm gonna shoot!), I engaged in a brief conversation with a man with two boys maybe aged 8 and 10 who told me they weren't able to get tickets and had even come from Pampanga to be there. Later, after an exhilarating getting-past-security-without-getting-noticed ordeal, I was in a jampacked patron box sideline camoflaging with other newspaper photographers since I had no event-issued screaming yellow ID. There, I scanned the coliseum and saw over-eager fans, mostly male, who looked like they were holding back tears by giddily shouting as Kobe Bryant, D-Rose, Kevin Durant and the rest of the NBA stars played ankle-breaking hoop stunts that showcased their otherworldly athleticism. Even my fellow photographers stopped shooting at some point and just oggled. Such passion for baketball and these players. It was a surreal moment that I coincidentally witnessed. Even I was screaming some times at slam dunks, crazy pivoting and beautiful assists. So I don't know why, really, at North Park later, eating my noodles and letting the happy crowd thin out, I felt sad about it.

Day Eighteen: the 30-day writing challenge

2011-07-22T22:45:00.004+08:00

I never knew a broken camera can be so depressing. Emmet, my four and a half year old dslr is in the service center. It may have ran out of actuation counts. Like the automobile, a camera has mileage. It will take me a lot of cash to get it a new shutter assembly but all I can do is scrounge up enough for that. I can't afford a brand new cam for now.

I'm using a borrowed Nikon and while I am thankful that a friend is kind to lend a camera to me, I get so frustrated using it because I can't control it. For one, it's a Nikon whose system I am not too familiar with. Second, it's an old model which means it doesn't have high ISO capability like the newer Nikon models. My white balance is all out of whack. It back focuses. There is a two-second lag every after click which is way too long for sports photography. Sometimes, when there's high speed action, I shoot 3 frames per second. With the Nikon, I just can't do that. I've been trying to be cool with all these for weeks, to never whine about the situation. I convince myself that it's okay, let's make do, I can adjust. I recite the proverbial wala sa pana, nasa indian. But now, I admit it's not working.

My shots are acceptable but I am not comfortable watermarking my name on something acceptable. And it's not that I want expensive gear to keep up with the fad. I just want a gear that works. That's it, period. One of the things I hate the most is when I can't communicate well or get a point across whether I'm speaking or writing. This is no different. Right now, I am just too pissed I can't keep chill any longer. And Emmet will be at the service center for another two weeks. Meanwhile, my photos are on a consistent quality decline. I'm not coming through. I feel so paralyzed.

Day Seventeen: the 30-day writing challenge

2011-07-21T02:01:00.002+08:00

I'm craving for jellyfish. It's God's gift to the bored palate. At first look it isn't at all appetizing. Cut into 3-inch long strips the width like half a finger cut lengthwise with a thickness akin to a wooden ruler, the dish is usually an appetizer to a Chinese lauriat. Jellyfish is translucent has a rubbery texture and irregularly-shaped flaps jutting out from its length. It reminds me of bacteria under the microscope, or a weird sea plant swaying in the water, or a flat kind of worm. But I like it. I like that it's soft but offers some kind of resistance. Like you're sinking your teeth into some kind of ligament, only springier. The dish smells sour as it is pickled with a hint of something else. But it's not overpowering like kimchi and it has a sweetness to balance the acidity off. I like jellyfish side by side with century egg but between the two, I'd take jellyfish any time.

Day Fifteen: the 30-day writing challenge

2011-07-19T23:55:00.014+08:00

Frida woke up in a startle but immediately sighed in relief. It was still dark. She could see the moon cast a yellow glow through the malunggay tree near her window. She remembered she had to fix things for her papa in the morning, some civil registry papers from one of the most inefficient bureaus in Manila.

She stayed in bed. Again, it was not difficult to retrieve the dream. This one involved speaking in an auditorium of people and getting a high out of it. The next sequence, though, involved talking to conference organizers who won't recognize the set-up she wants for the next day. What the fuck does it do for an event if the podium is 100 meters from the audience? She felt suddenly disconnected.

Lately, Frida's dreams are more vivid. The other night she dreamt of a war photographer crying to her in a hug which slowly turned into a caress, the possibilities of which she refused with a compliment. So that's how it feels like, Frida thought in that dream. It's all strange emotional politics.

They say love is power. But she knew it wasn't categorically true because she had loved and was violently pinned across the opposite side of the spectrum while at it. Dispersed forces maintain the status quo. Maybe coupling and not love is power, she thought. Like how you can order crispy pata whenever you want because someone is there to share it. You won't feel much of a useless slob ordering it for yourself. Or how it is easier to process a US Visa when you're joining your wife's company plant visit, her free airfare and accommodation slashing the household holiday expense fifty percent. After all, immigration would know you will return to your country of origin. You built a life there, in a newly-financed flat for two.

Frida winced. The reason she woke up is not the sequence in the auditorium. It was because in the same dream, appeared her former lover and his girlfriend for eight years now. They were in a gym. It escaped Frida why she was in the same place. She was not an observer because in the dream she squealed when just a pace away, the girlfriend was about to drop a 5 lb. dumb bell on Frida's pretzeled legs only to catch it with two bare fingers and then lift it in repetitions. The metallic globule was just inches from Frida's face and her eyes focused as though at wide angle with just the weights and two fingers sharp, the girlfriend and the rest of her arm clouded in a slight blur. Frida's ex, suddenly ripped, was on his chair across laying and lifting heavier weights. They were both laughing, having fun, perhaps even gloating.

Day Thirteen: The 30-day writing challenge

2011-07-17T23:53:00.000+08:00

A_01

NU Bulldog’s Rayray Parks shoots a free throw in the second quarter of their UAAP game against the UP Fighting Maroons, Sunday.

A_02

The NU pep squad performs at halftime during the UAAP basketball game, Sunday, July 17, 2011.

A_03

The UP pep squad finish by mimicking the oblation during their halftime performance at the UAAP basketball game, Sunday, July 17, 2011.

A_04

Rayray Parks drives toward the basket in the second quarter of their UAAP game against the UP Fighting Maroons, Sunday.

A_05

Jett Manuel scored a total of 21 points for the UP Maroons in their UAAP game against the NU Bulldogs, Sunday. The Maroons lost 66 to 75.

B_01

First-timer UE head coach Jerry Codiñera instructs his players during their UAAP game against UST, Sunday. UE has yet to win a game in the first round.

B_02

UE Pep Squad lifters grimace while hoisting teammates up during their half-time performance at the UAAP basketball game, Sunday.

B_03

UE Red Warrior Lucas Tagarda passes the ball to Adrian Santos during the second quarter of their match against UST, July 17.

B_04

UST top-scorer Kevin Ferrer during their UAAP match against UE, Sunday. UST won over UE 70 to 63.

B_05

UST fans cheer an imminent victory during their basketball team’s UAAP match against UE, July 17.

B_06

UE Red Warrior Paul Zamar tries to dodge UST Tigers as he passes the ball to a teammate during their second UAAP game, Sunday. Zamar scored 18 of the Warrior’s 63.

Day Twelve: The 30-day writing challenge

2011-07-16T20:19:00.003+08:00

Ateneo point guard Kiefer Ravena feigns a shot and passes the ball to his teammate in the second quarter of their UAAP basketball match against archrival De La Salle Green Archers, Saturday. Ravena scored 24 points and led his team to victory 81 to 72.

Blue Eagles and Green Archers tussle during the second quarter of the UAAP basketball match, Saturday. The Ateneo Eagles won over archrival De La Salle Archers 81 to 72.

De La Salle pointguard L.A. Revilla drives for the basket during the third quarter of the UAAP basketball match against archirival Ateneo de Manila, Saturday. Revilla scored 22 points, not enough to bring his team to victory. The De La Salle Archers lost 72 to 81.

Ateneo point guard Kiefer Ravena high-fives teammate Greg Slaughter after sinking a free throw at the final quarter of their UAAP basketball match against archrival De La Salle Green Archers, Saturday. Ravena scored 24 points and led his team to victory 81 to 72.

Former president ERAP Estrada smiles while son Senator Jinggoy Estrada sings Ateneo de Manila University’s alma mater song after their basketball team’s victory over archrival De La Salle University, Saturday. Behind them is Senator Nikki Coseteng.

Thousands of students and alumni of Ateneo de Manila University sing their alma mater song after their basketball team’s victory over archrival De La Salle University, Saturday. Matches between the two teams draw record-breaking crowds in Araneta Coliseum which seats up to 23,000 people.

***

Caption-writing is writing. Was asked to string for abs-cbnnews.com today so yay!

Day Eleven: The 30-day writing challenge

2011-07-15T23:45:00.001+08:00

Well, another gurgitation of thoughts.

Someday, I'm gonna look back to this day and laugh at how I was so unnecessarily cautious all the time. When too many things happen at once, I tend to step back and take time to survey the situation, weigh my options and then carry out a solution. But plans are only necessary for long term undertakings. And hatching one usually opens you up to endless possibilities only to dilute resolve. Some scenarios call for addressing one little hurdle at a time, to momentarily position oneself and take form for the next strike even if it means you ooze out of your open flesh in increased movement. One cannot lose time to accommodate second-guesses. After all, whatever you do will bring you where you're supposed to be. Might as well be immersed in the experience than watch yourself map it up in your mind.

Day Ten: The 30-day writing challenge

2011-07-14T23:29:00.007+08:00

While Typhoon Ondoy swooped across a large geographical area in 2009, this social impact monitoring study reveals that its effects are very much localized. The case of Westbank Floodway in Maybunga, Pasig demonstrates that while conditions in livelihood, employment and social relations were altered to some degree in the wake of the calamity, the impacts on local governance and security and land tenure were much more apparent.

Residents in WMF appear to be fairly self-actualizing. As such, many are able to bounce back in terms of generating income. As a local leader stated in one of the FGDs, “mayroong mga taong nagsumidhing magsumikap sa pamumuhay. Kagaya ng barangay, nagbibigay din sila ng aid/tulong pero probably karamihan po ay sa inisyatibo ng indibidwal na mga pamilya. Kapag barangay naman ang aasahan natin 100% naman hindi naman po lahat iyan mabibigyan, hindi po ba? Kailangan din po talaga ng mga mahihirap katulad namin na magsikap para sa kabutihan din ng mga naninirahan dito.” (There are those who are zealous in finding work. The barangay gives aid but most families have their own initiatives (in generating income). If we depend 100% on the barangay, not all will be given, right? The poor like us really need to be diligent for the sake of people who live here).

Although the people agree that there had been no sweeping changes in the way they obtain work, there is a need to bring back discontinued livelihood programs which residents, especially the women and elderly rely on to make ends meet. The local government of Pasig can partner with the business sector to provide a placement service which can prioritize the hiring of its constituents most especially the poor who reside in Ondoy-stricken communities like WMF. POs can also partner with the LGU or various NGOs in order to bring in new entrepreneurial activities here. Only then will micro-finance institutions make sense and become relevant to the community.

Very noticeable is the lack of dialogue among stakeholders in WMF especially as regards the issue of land tenure. There is a unanimous clamor for better and safer housing conditions to improve quality of life but opinions differ on how to reach this goal. Two years after the first SIA, the Pasig City Mayor has still not granted an audience with the community. Most people are at a loss about their fate. Many do not believe that their area is not safe environmentally even if it is along the waterway. They demand that a public presentation of environmental impact assessments (EIA) take place so that they can move forward and, with partner NGOs, can suggest engineering solutions to the national and local governments that can ensure their safety while developing their community on-site.

Most of the WMF residents have seen and heard horror stories about the life of their former neighbors in the Calauan relocation site. There is a need for the host LGU to coordinate with the relocatees' former LGUs to streamline aid and work on the provision of basic services to ensure humane living conditions. While WMF residents acknowledge that work is being done by some church groups and NGOs to help Calauan residents, they are unwilling to barter that life with their life in WMF. Ironically, the very things that make them stay and wage war against efforts of the Pasig City government to relocate them are, aside from proximity to work opportunities, the benefits they receive from the Pasig City government itself.

Not yet seen but often heard of is the way the City and Barangay prepare their constituents against future calamities. The plan itself seems promising as structures, equipment, protocols and systems are already in place to rescue the people from disasters. But the crucial focus must still be on disaster preparedness. The City and Barangay DRRMC, aside from upgrading its physical resources and training personnel, could ensure that knowledge about reducing vulnerabilities is communicated at the household level, not only in private subdivisions but especially in high-risk informal settlements like WMF. To this end, printed pamphlets and public announcement systems must only complement effective public information campaigns that gather people in the public spaces to talk about the must-do’s in times of environmental crises.

Nobody is sure yet about the fate of the informal settling community in Maybunga. Dialogues must not tarry regarding the issue of security of land tenure on the national, inter-city, city and community level as this is crucial for a “Bagong buhay, bagong pag-asa” or new life, renewed hope for the people and a “pagsasaa-ayos” or reordering of WMF. However, things must not go on a stand-still. Various stakeholders can help individual families continue working on everyday needs like generating enough income, inculcating a culture of savings, reducing crime and other socially-inflicted dangers to the community, and preparing for any future disasters in that may come WMF’s way.

Promises are made to be broken. I know! But I wrote this today so, technically, it counts right?

Day Nine: The 30-day writing challenge

2011-07-13T23:20:00.000+08:00

Aside from physical, psycho-social and financial reconstruction, another current concern of Barangay Maybunga, the Pasig LGU and some of the households in WMF is how to prepare for future disasters and reduce risk to life and property.

Brgy DRRMC. At the barangay level, a Barangay Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Council (BDRRMC) is already set up. It is headed by the barangay captain and composed of 3 barangay kagawad. Presently, it has a PhP 800,000 funding allocation. A community-based DRM Plan identifies the disaster team and propose disaster risk management practices or the things to do before, during and after the disasters. It also lists evacuation centers and safe pick-up points for the stranded. Serving like an operations manual, the plan details the evacuation process as well as the duties and responsibilities of the council members.

Available logistics include paraphernalia for fire, earthquake and floods as well as transportation & communication/monitoring equipments like radio and cell phones. CCTVs c/o the LGU had also been installed within the barangay and along the floodway. Trainings and seminars about the DRM plan have been conducted for the barangay leaders and, according to the barangay captain, videos presentations and flyers are available for information dissemination.

City DRRMC. The Barangay preparations have been largely spurred by initiatives at the city level. Since 1995, Pasig City had a volunteer rescue group in charge of calamity response and other emergencies with around 150 volunteers. In 2007, this group was institutionalized with thirty (30) regular employees aside from the volunteers and was called Communications Command Center (C3).

Prior to Ondoy, C3 had the following : a rescue unit with rubber and fire boats, centralized radio system, CCTVs in several street corners and waterways for monitoring, a Computer-Aided Dispatch (CAD) system operated at the command center, evacuation tents with matting, protocols, human resource systems and operations manual for disaster response were available and, seminars and trainings on these were mandatory to C3 personnel.

During Ondoy, C3 personnel and volunteers although shaken at first followed operations protocol and responded 24/7. Aside from conducting search and rescue, transporting evacuees, relief distribution and medical missions[1] C3 activities in the recovery and reconstruction phase included pumping water out of the city[2], sanitation of flood waters to prevent leptospirosis and other diseases, clearing out debris and the Resettlement and Relocation and Balik Probinsiya Programs.

In 2009, the National Disaster Coordinating Council (NDCC) awarded the Gawad Kalasag Best Governance and Emergency Management award to Pasig City C3 in the NCR category. In 2010, they were awarded as the best nationwide. Mr. Richie Van Angeles, head of C3 attributes their effectiveness to the political will of Mayor Bobby Eusebio who is said to understand the importance of disaster risk reduction and management and gives priority to disaster readiness.

Today, C3 stands as the City Disaster Risk Reduction Management Council (CDRRMC) and has revised organizational structure and functions to include other national government agencies and civil society organizations. In the next months, the Pasig C3/CDRRMC plans to conduct GIS and aerial mapping to identify disaster-prone areas in city and update hazard maps, disseminate IEC Materials and provide compulsory one-hour training on disaster preparedness to every household, purchase more equipment like rubber boats, CCTV cameras, wide-area notification/ warning system and create the Pasig Rescue Emergency Disaster (RED) Training Center which is an educational facility for disaster response practitioners which will cater not only to Pasig City government staff but later also to those from other cities and municipalities in the Philippines.

Despite these activities and even if respondents related stories about receiving aid during calamity, the WMF community was not aware of an overall disaster preparedness plan in the city and barangay levels. This may be attributed to the fact that grass-roots information dissemination has yet to be strengthened in Pasig in terms of DRRM.

Several NGOs also help in preparing the community for disasters. WFMNAI and SKNF leaders have been trained by COM and partner institutions about DRRM and are still in the process of creating a DRRM committee composed of 2 members each from block 1 to 9.

[1] A week after Ondoy, a temporary Field Hospital was established in Maybunga because the hospitals in Pasig were already full. The Pasig LGU coordinated with Medical City and Mandaluyong General Hospital in the provision of medical services.

[2] Fifteen (15) portable pumps were strategically placed to help pump out flood water from the city.

***

This is my last cheat, I promise.

2011-07-13T10:48:00.002+08:00

Alam kong hindi ka kumakain ng manok (hindi nga ba talaga? o inistir mo lang ako all these years?) pero congratulations, Bubu. Woohoo! Engaged! Wow. Here's to the liberation that comes from knowing "this is it" at sa pagsalubong sa "matagal nang pinaghahandaan at pinagpapaliban." Pa-bucket ka naman minsan. :) Imsoveryhappy.

Day Eight: The 30-day writing challenge

2011-07-12T23:51:00.006+08:00

I miss my momma. I need a hug and I miss my momma because she gives the best hugs in the world. And I can hug her for a long time without tiring. I miss my momma because she always has this way of calming me down whenever I am at the midst of failing at something. No nonsense and always the voice of reason, my momma can sit me down and very deliberately enumerate what I have to do in a situation without being harsh. She calls me out on my bullshit and is the wellspring of forgiveness at the same time. In high school, whenever I panic at the eve of a big math exam (which I always do) she sends me to sleep and wakes me up at 3 am so I can understand my formulas at the lonely sound of the town butcher pushing his wooden cart full of cow and pig corpses to the market from the abattoir. I think those were the only things that got me 80's instead of 75's. I understood the formulas but could never complete problem solutions and always got partial points. I miss my momma because I need someone to tell me partial points are okay but I need to put in more hours next time because after all, life, like math, requires a lot of pratice.

Day Seven: The 30-day writing challenge

2011-07-11T23:41:00.001+08:00

This is harder than I thought. Of course, I would trip on the seventh day. Wait. Okay, breathe, relax. You don't have to turn in a Palanca-winning piece or even something that gets published on Youngblood. Remember, you don't need to be perfect. Evolve.

sunflower madness

2011-07-11T10:16:00.004+08:00

My college orgmate Richie posted this on facebook today. He's crossing Europe on the monorail doing marvelous things and seeing grand magnificent places. But this is my favorite of them all. Oh how I'd love to be in the middle of all this.

Day Six: The 30-day writing challenge

2011-07-10T11:59:00.005+08:00

I wore a navy blue floral-printed tulle top with a bit of ruffles under a black cardigan to the games today. Paired these with jeans and flats. Bad decision. Should have worn my usual t-shirt, cargoes and rubber shoes. Wearing something flowing and soft can considerably alter a woman's disposition. Now I have a hunch that men like girly women more not because of their clothes but how they act in these clothes. I mean, how can you walk brusquely in strappy sandals? Intuitively, you'll know you'd have to take slower fluid strides. Anyway, I find that I like dressing girly from time to time and not because I'd like to attract men. That's just cherry on top of the ice cream. It's just fun and gives a certain feeling of playful lightness, blithe even, when clothes cling to your body naturally. Today I felt calm and that's good right? Well, no, not in a shoot. When I shoot I need to feel upbeat, intense and aggressive so I can snag the shots. I should move around and look for better angles and shoot different scenes and people for variety, never to mind stares if I jumped over metal barricades to get to a spot where something was happening fast. Because shabbiness justified brashness anyway. But no. Today I was seated at my courtside spot for most of the time, just leaning on the cushioned wall behind the backboard. Being all lethargic and feminine. I got awful shots.

2011-07-10T01:26:00.001+08:00

That large white spot in the middle of Northern Luzon is mocking me. I can't believe I haven't set foot in Apayao and Abra. Not that traveling is a race or a kindergarten subject in shading but it's just weird that both provinces are so near yet so far.

How much of the Philippines have you visited? Find out at Lakbayan!

Created by Eugene Villar.

Day Five: The 30-day writing challenge

2011-07-09T23:20:00.000+08:00

It was my first time to shoot in the rain today. Although I think I had decent photos, I wasn't ready for the day at all and had a difficult time all through out.

I woke up after taking a nap from my research work just two hours before covering the UAAP opening at the Marikina Sports Center and hadn't thought of everything that I needed for the task. I usually have a checklist in my mind about what equipment and gear to bring at least a week before a shoot but somehow, my other deadlines erased all my excitement and foresight about covering the games.

For one, I had no time to borrow a long lens. The outdoor stadium was just too big for my 50mm prime (no zoom). Good thing my friend Kiko had another friend's cam and lived in Marikina so I was able to borrow a 28-100mm. But since the cam was a Nikon, the knobs didn't suit my muscle memory well.

Also, I brought a thin disposable raincoat which I remembered I had stocked from way back. It got ripped while I was moving around. I wore sneakers and naturally they got soaked in the puddles on field. I forgot my hair rubber bands so my hair was plastered all over my face. I didn't bring any plastic bags to cover the cameras so I asked a vendor for one and used my scarf to cover the other camera. I didn't bring a towel to wipe water from the lens and the viewfinder. I brought my ginormous shoulder bag which was not waterproof and which bulged funny inside the raincoat. Overall I did not have fun and the thing that bothers me is that my difficulties were preventable.

Well preventable to a degree. I realize I need to invest in a lot of things to function well in this business. Improvisation can only get you at par but not above par. Aside from the lenses which my colleagues always convince me to buy (it's time, you deserve a better lens, it will do wonders to your learning curve blah blah blah) I should also consider buying another metal-bodied camera which is more weather-sealed. Mine is an amateur unit made of plastic. Water, sand and dust get into the tiny openings. I also need a waterproof padded bag to protect what I have and a monopod for when I'm shooting while moving around in low-light. I should buy durable raincoats and rainboots with traction which I need for commuting anyway. So many things on my list. The problem is that I don't have the money. How many times will I have to explain to people that I don't have 150 fucking thousand to buy these things! When I see rich hobbyists with tons of gadgets which they don't use but brag about, I have this strong urge to whack their heads with one. I'll choose the 300mm--much more substantial. Life is unfair. There's too much undistributed resources.

Day Four: The 30-day writing challenge

2011-07-08T22:50:00.004+08:00

Three major trends in terms of access to credit and indebtedness emerged in WMF after Ondoy. First, microfinance institutions, if not leaving the area, had become stricter and more thorough in processing loan requests and following up repayments. Second, informal lending operators like the “Bombay” and 5/6 boomed. Lastly, people are becoming more wary of joining these organizations for fear of not being able to repay.

Stricter MFI’s. At least six major MFIs operated in WMF prior to Ondoy: CARD, CCDI, CCT, ASA, KMBI, TSPI. Among these, CARD seems to be the most preferred.

CARD members can borrow a three-thousand-peso initial loan payable in 6 months with 15% interest. Aside from giving out loans, CARD (as well as KMBI) have a savings component while offering health insurance, educational assistance for college dependents, free weddings, GSIS financial assistance in case of death in the family.

A CARD member who had an outstanding PhP 5,000 loan explained that she has to pay PhP 320 weekly for 23 weeks. Of this amount, PhP 50 goes to savings, PhP 15 is for insurance and PhP 5 will be accumulated every time, the sum of which can be refunded when the member opts out of the organization. As an MFI solely used for livelihood activities, members can increase loan amounts after some time up to PhP 150,000. People distinguish CARD and KMBI from other institutions as the latter do not offer benefits except savings component.

Given the reality of increased expenses brought about by Ondoy and their lack of security of land tenure, it became more difficult for the residents to obtain loans from formal MFIs as these institutions feared that the current economic state and possible summary evictions would make it harder for them to obtain repayments.

According to one respondent. “Sila na mismo ang umalis dito simula ng Ondoy kasi natatakot din silang magpautang. Kasi dati kasi ako mismo ang nagrerecruit ng tao. Tulad sa ASA ako ang nagrerecruit nun. Ngayon, hindi kami nahuhulugan ng mga tao kaya umalis sila…Ang TSPI naman, hindi kami dun pinagpatuloy, mula ng nag-Ondoy.” (trans)

Some people obtain memberships from other less strict MFI’s to pay their previous loan from a stricter ,more stringent MFI for fear of having their appliances pulled out of their houses.

“Ganito ang mangyayari dun, pag nagkautang ka hindi ka nakabayad ng loan, uutang ka dito ulit para pambayad. Kaya ang nangyayari doble bukol ka na dahil yung bayad mo dun, inutang mo sa kabila,” a respondent explained. (trans)

Rise of informal lending. There has been a noticeable increase informal lenders after Ondoy. According to WFM residents, many “Bombay” or Indian businessmen offer to lend residents money especially if they see that the residents have stable jobs or small businesses. Although experiencing bad rap because of their convincing and allegedly sly way of peddling wares like umbrellas and kitchen utensils, the purchase of which is a requirement for getting the loan, some people who badly need the money and do not pass MFI requirements have no choice but to avail of the option.

If possible, many residents still prefer to borrow from neighbours who also usually charge 20% interest but. The advantage is that loan cycles are shorter and repayment dates are not strictly being followed. One can always request for extension.

MFI’s as added burden. Often, FGD and KII respondents, consider MFI loans as additional worries instead of assistance to alleviate problematic financial situations. Someone from the women’s sector said, “Wala. Yung mga microfinance hindi naman yan…utang yun talaga. Wala yun. Dagdag problema nga yun eh.” (trans)

A KII respondent was leader of 5 MFIs (CCDI, CCT, ASA, KMBI, TSPI) and had many small loans but eventually was unable to pay. She dropped out from most because she had difficulty collecting payments from her members. Now, she is member only of KMBI.

Some stay with the MFIs only because of the savings component: “Ang ginagawa ko sasali ako sa lending para at least kahit papaano may savings ako. Halimbawa tumabi ako, halimbawa kumita ako ng Php50, ang singkwenta tinatabi ko para may panghulog ako ganun.” (trans)

***
Yep. still at it.

Day Three: The 30-day writing challenge

2011-07-07T23:55:00.007+08:00

Within WMF, grassroots organizations exist to safeguard the interest of the community. In 2002, SAMAKAPA was founded as a HOA and was given authority to administer water supply to households. Closely allied with the Pasig LGU and Mayor Roberto Eusebio, it recommended relocation of WMF residents specifically to BLISS, a medium-rise building (MRB) located within the barangay. (Insert footnote on financing scheme) Not all are in favor of this suggestion. In March 2009, the Samahan ng Kababaihan sa Floodway, Maybunga (SNKF) a women’s group organizing the community since 1998, which was instrumental in the formation of SAMAKAPA, helped create a breakaway group called The West Bank Floodway Neighborhood Association, Inc. (WFMNAI) after a 2007 legal dispute over alleged corruption in the administration of the water system. WFMNAI, which is affiliated with the non-government organization Community Organizers Multiversity (COM) advocates on-site development in WFM.

Also active in WMF are the volunteers of the Department of Social Welfare and Development’s Comprehensive and Integrated Delivery of Social Services (CIDSS) who, aside from implementing the LGU's Lusog Pasig nutrition program, also roll out the Pantawid Pamilyang Pilipino Program (4Ps), a national social development and poverty reduction strategy that provides cash grants to poor households to improve their health, nutrition, and education provided they comply with certain conditions. Other visible groups include the Pasig Security Guards (PSG), a volunteer group of men and women who patrol the vicinity at night to prevent crimes, the Barangay Health Workers (BHWs) and the Pasig Health Aides (PHA) who supervise them.

Most volunteers of CIDSS, PSG, the PHAs and BHWs are members of either SAMAKAPA or WFNAI.

The flooding brought about by Ondoy seems to have deepened the dividing lines between the two major POs in WFM. On the one hand, WFMNAI and its supporters blame SAMAKAPA for convincing affected families to relocate to the NHA site in Calauan, Laguna transplanting these households who would have strengthened their fight for on-site development into a community allegedly less favorable to their well-being. On the other hand, SAMAKAPA and its followers emphasize that to relocate would be the best and safest choice even if it meant some difficulties in adjusting to their new life outside the city. While the SAMAKAPA stands on its decision of recommending relocation, WFMNAI continues to lobby with national government agencies to stop impending forced evictions in WFM.

In all these, the barangay appears to remain in the middle—wary of the supposed environmental hazard that faces the remaining residents but, at the same time, understanding their refusal to transfer to an area with very limited basic services and virtually no opportunities for livelihood.

...
What? I have deadlines. I wrote this today...and it's crying out for edits!

Day Two: The 30-day writing challenge

2011-07-06T23:55:00.016+08:00

There's something so desperate and humiliating about working hard for what you want. Wouldn't it be nice, at the end of your life, to have said that you were quite honestly just very lucky that life turned out the way it did, after all? The element of surprise, life being a gift rather than something you toothed and clawed for, is very appealing. But it's a juvenile and immature wish, isn't it? Even in fairy tales someone made an effort sometime, even if it was usually the prince. Princes slayed dragons, scaled let-down hair or outwitted the evil sorceress, didn't they?

An online vocational coach asked his clients to do the following: 1) make a biography of yourself years from now that is, what would you be doing, where would you be living, who would you be spending time with etc. 2) write your present-day biography 3) close in on the gap. I couldn't, for the life of me, write a single word. I have effectively lost the capability of dreaming. I partly blame the parents whom I have never heard plan something long-term, medium-term, even short-term. "We will own a house when we have the money." "Just pass those college entrance exams and we'll look for where to get your tuition." When I was little, even beach outings depended on how they felt at that particular morning. I'd be up all night, twisting and turning, almost feeling the warmth of the sun on my body and the taste of salt water on my lips, only to be told when the sun came up to go back to bed and maybe next time. One of my most vivid memories of my maternal grandmother was that of her cooking rancid milk and turning it into cheese while singing "Que sera, sera."

On the one hand society has put too much emphasis for asking what you want. Reciprocity is a value in itself--something to wish for maybe, but really, in this day and age, it is becoming more and more something to aspire for or pursue. Without this would turn you into a rug you yourself cannot respect. On the other hand, all major religions have promoted unconditional love. To give and not to ask for any reward. To let your energy flow from your core to the outside world because I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together. But my problem is not really in the not getting it but in the asking. And this may have been because of an unimaginative upbringing but really, I'm too old to be blaming things in the past. There shouldn't be any difficulty with unconditional love then. However, I am convinced that the only difference with conditional and unconditional love is the granting of the condition. I have a strong feeling that life is always some sort of asking. I don't think I will be fully capable of that.

2011-07-06T19:28:00.003+08:00

"We have bad timing. We've always had bad timing, haven't we?" - Will Gardner, The Good Wife

Echo

2011-07-06T04:55:00.004+08:00

when the mountains rise against me, i will turn my back to the sun and cut the earth with my shadow. when my mouth is dry, i will flood the heavens with resounding mercy. when my money runs out, i will write another poem, and beg the world for more time. beg it until my hands are frail with typographical errors. i will beg until someone weeps for me. so thrash about, you monsters and angels. call for the mongrels and bark out your rage. turn into a valley, exhale. and then move your chest outward with a greater force than quake. the human grain. the quest for place. trace your future to the most difficult endings. all of them should be terrible. there is nothing more glorious than to be daunted. to be halted by an ocean you wish to cross, to have no plans, to be broken by love, to be punished for your innocence, to be raped, to lose, to be so, so hungry. there is nothing more solid than transcendence. you are ninety percent blood. red, because it is as day’s end. an overcompensation of all our grief. and your body is the stone your parents cast into the still waters of creation. spill it over the silence. split your skull and let the doves fly. fly them dumb into the decibels i have left for you in the far stretches of the sky. hear me echo out my absolution. the whole of night will be my knife.

- Rafael San Diego, freshman english class seatmate whom I will forever remember humming Cole Porter's "I Love Paris" during class

Day One: The 30-day writing challenge

2011-07-05T16:56:00.000+08:00

The reason why writers can’t write and photographers can’t shoot and lovers can’t love is that they put too much romanticism into what they’re supposed to do. One just has to buckle down and do it. Because writing and photographing and loving are work. One cannot abandon them at a mood’s whim.

That’s me convincing myself. Because I hate that writing now on a deadline makes me weepy. I am always weepy when I write and shoot and love that it’s exhausting. And one too many times I am inclined to stop. Just stop. It’s not worth it.

I’d like to find work that I do not feel for. Just to get something over with for the day. Just something to put food on the table and clothes on my back. Why can’t life be simple like that? I’d like to be a waitress really. Or a cook. Manual labor. After all I’m good with my hands.

And it wouldn’t be like I was abandoning a dream. I never dreamt of this anyway.

Because I take a bath every day

2011-07-04T23:08:00.000+08:00

If taking a bath everyday is the most natural thing to do, why can't I write everyday? Well, I can and I should, if only to start a good habit. I badly need one. So, following the wisdom of Martin Spurlock of Supersize Me, I will write something, anything for 30 days. An exercise in futility, you say? Well maybe. But this essay has given me the impetus to write because like bathing, no one else can do it for me.

2011-07-04T00:40:00.000+08:00

*photo from here

Viva!

2011-07-02T04:05:00.002+08:00

If there's anything I've grown really good at, it's resistance. I notice that in my adult life, I resist everything:

Resist getting rich, resist living with the bare minimum
Resist sucking, resist succeeding
Resist forever burying things, resist living with dead things everyday
Resist the whipped cream, resist going on a strict diet
Resist writing, resist photography
Resist the fires of hell, resist the limits of religious thought
Resist being childlike, resist being an adult
Resist melancholy, resist unreasonable bliss
Resist normalcy, resist abnormality
Resist the simple, resist the frivolous
Resist the tyranny of words, resist empty silences
Resist irresponsibility, resist total dedication
Resist apathy, resist devotion
Resist death, resist life.

What's with the fucking struggle?

Hindi Kita Iibigin

2011-07-01T14:41:00.002+08:00

Hindi kita iibigin

sa takot na masaktan kita

dahil ang pag-ibig

para sa akin ay punyal

na kumikitil ng ligaya

Hindi kita iibigin

sa takot na mabasag kita

dahil ang pag-ibig

para sa akin ay lindol

na dumidiskaril ng mga akala

Hindi kita iibigin

sa takot na masikil kita

dahil ang pag-ibig

para sa akin ay bartolina

na nagpipinid ng laya

Hindi kita iibigin

kung hatid ng pagpigil

ay 'yong ligaya

kung hatid ng paghimpil

ay katuparan ng akala

kung hatid ng pagpapalaya

ay 'yong paglago

Hindi kita iibigin

dahil hindi kita iniibig

lang.

- Pia Montalban

My mumps, my lovely little mumps

2011-06-29T05:10:00.003+08:00

My roommate Candy is down with the mumps. I was not worried. I had 'em when I was little...I think. I had almost everything when I was a kid -- german measles, bulutong tubig, scabies, and chickenpox during college. Thank God I didn't have hepa or dengue yet. But I think that my engaging in contact street games, playing with soil as a kid and wading through flood waters made my body immune system stronger than most because I rarely get sick as an adult.

Just a while though, I was very hungry and riding on the adrenalin of having submitted a document for work through email while fixing myself a nissin yakisoba (emergency food) that I spilled the noodles on our kitchen sink while draining the cup. I quickly scooped the damn thing up and through gritted teeth and curses, poured boiling water on it again (rinse and repeat) and ate it in spite. Nasty, i know! Now, I am quite positive I'll contract the mumps virus again. I saw Candy washing her utensils on the sink a few hours ago. Lighting can hit twice. It happens to a select tiny percent of the population, you know. I think it will happen to me.

I'm so stooopid. And gross. HAHAHA!

Places

2011-06-24T06:28:00.006+08:00

Time is a convenient mediator, the unspoken assumption being that its passage has neutralized anything sour between us. And so we settle into this jovial repartee, the only difference is that our talk is more comfortable than ever. Why wouldn't it be? There is no longer room for anything to get better or worse. No more that indefatigable possibility of titillation or a chronic danger of offending the other. Instead, amusement is kept in its proper corner, quiet as a twitch of flesh at the corners of your mouth. It is better this way, I think. That you have sealed your fate with the constant even if you've unknowingly thwarted mine into the big wide open. I never liked enclosed spaces anyway. I can manage the dizzying turning and tumbling and freewheeling. As long as you stay in place.

TUMI to me

2011-06-24T05:29:00.013+08:00

I am in lust over this chic, classic, sensible, sturdy, beautiful bag. Would be nice to travel with that. Or just to run around the city for work and errands with ease. I don't know. There's something about good bags. Everbody must have at least one.

If I were a guy and would like a bag that can seamlessly fit from the office to other functions (fieldwork, client meetings) that would require me to be on the commute, I would definitely buy something like this: This would easily fit a laptop, folders of paper and other gadgets. That looks like a cord or water bottle compartment up front. Nifty. Also, I like the vertical orientation which doesn't scream the very 1980's attache case.

More guwapo TUMI bags here.

And So

2011-06-24T01:02:00.006+08:00

And so you call your best friend
who's away, just to hear his voice,
but forget his recording concludes
with "Have a nice day."

"Thank you, but I have other plans,"
you're always tempted to respond,
as an old lady once did, the clerk
in the liquor store unable to laugh.

Always tempted, what a sad
combination of words. And so
you take a walk into the neighborhood,
where the rhododendrons are out
and also some yellowy things

and the lilacs remind you of a song
by Nina Simone. "Where's my love?"
is its refrain. Up near Gravel Hill
two fidgety deer cross the road,
whitetails, exactly where

the week before a red fox
made a more confident dash.
Now and then the world rewards,
and so you make your way back

past the careful lawns, the drowsy backyards,
knowing the soul on its own
is helpless, asleep in the hollows
of its rigging, waiting to be stirred.

- Stephen Dunn

2011-06-23T02:16:00.006+08:00

So I'm halfway through an e-book I downloaded early this evening. I never thought I'd see the day. I've always been a printed word advocate. Even when I write my reports, I'd prefer to have my materials printed in economode on scratch papers so that I could highlight stuff and scribble unruly notes and make diagrams. I'd just make up to the environment in one way or another by refusing plastic bags when buying things and stuffing them in my tote. It's just that sometimes I have low EQ and I had to read a novel now (despite a looming case study deadline) because I plan to watch its screen adaptation when it comes out in August.

Okay, okay! The low EQ thing is not an occasional thing. Just last night, it took me three tentative trips to the freezers of Rustan's until I finally succumbed to buying a Snickers Ice Cream Bar. It was a novelty I couldn't resist especially because I needed cheering up from my 4-day flu. I like Snickers a lot and to turn it into the same Snicker's Bar only with an ice cream center just made me throw delaying self-gratification out of the window. What can I say? I am a weak individual with zero drive and no will power. And I don't care if I disgust a friend who's all too keen to prove herself to i don't know, herself or the world (these may have been her exact words). It's just that though I love her dearly, I don't see the point of working oneself so hard for the sole purpose of proving you're top-class. At one point or another you definitely will be. And then what? Maybe I am daft and a bit lazy but maybe that's just not my thing.

Yup, the ice cream did taste really goooooood.

2011-06-13T00:11:00.006+08:00

"Perhaps the body has its own memory system, like the invisible meridian lines those Chinese acupuncturists always talk about. Perhaps the body is unforgiving, perhaps every cell, every muscle and fragment of bone remembers each and every assault and attack. Maybe the pain of memory is encoded into our bone marrow and each remembered grievance swims in our bloodstream like a hard, black pebble. After all, the body, like God, moves in mysterious ways.

From the time she was in her teens, Sera has been fascinated by this paradox - how a body that we occupy, that we have worn like a coat from the moment of our birth - from before birth, even - is still a stranger to us. After all, almost everything we do in our lives is for the well-being of the body: we bathe daily, polish our teeth, groom our hair and fingernails; we work miserable jobs in order to feed and clothe it; we go to great lengths to protect it from pain and violence and harm. And yet the body remains a mystery, a book that we have never read. Sera plays with this irony, toys with it as if it were a puzzle: How, despite our lifelong preoccupation with our bodies, we have never met face-to-face with our kidneys, how we wouldn't recognize our own liver in a row of livers, how we have never seen our own heart or brain. We know more about the depths of the ocean, are more acquainted with the far corners of outer space than with our own organs and muscles and bones. So perhaps there are no phantom pains after all; perhaps all pain is real; perhaps each long ago blow lives on into eternity in some different permutation and shape; perhaps the body is this hypersensitive, revengeful entity, a ledger book, a warehouse of remembered slights and cruelties.

But if this is true, surely the body also remembers each kindness, each kiss, each act of compassion? Surely this is our salvation, our only hope - that joy and love are also woven into the fabric of the body, into each sinewy muscle, into the core of each pulsating cell?"

- Thirty Umrigar (The Space Between Us)

Allenated

2011-06-12T03:22:00.004+08:00

Watching too many neurotic woody allen films consecutively can get very tiring. I'm glad my last session was a few months ago. Now I'm actually looking forward to this. Reviews say it's the best Woody Allen piece in a while. And a time travel movie featuring portrayals of Ernest hemingway, Gertrude Stein, Salvador Dali and Man Ray? C'mon, that augurs a riot!

Major Goran Relapse

2011-06-11T01:33:00.000+08:00

2011-06-09T20:32:00.001+08:00

Aren't you tired of having needs? I am. It's not so much being disappointed about not meeting them but having them in the first place. Egh.

2011-06-08T03:52:00.008+08:00

If it's just work I'm supposed to do, I would have achieved way much than what I have now. But 50% of my time is spent on other obligations.

Just last month, I helped my brothers look for an apartment, move to that apartment, clean both the old and new apartments and settle them in as comfortably as possible. There were also dinners and lunches with relatives and friends on their return from other countries, their birthdays, and their going away parties. There was acting as travel agent for my parents who will be celebrating their anniversary for the first time out of town since their honeymoon 28 years ago, and the occasional calls and texts for buying stuff like merchandise for the drugstore. I'm in the middle of writing reports for a deadline yet I had to clean up the apartment last weekend for a college roommate who will be staying here for a few days to help settle her sister in her University's residence hall. Today, I accompanied them to ride the train, shop for supplies and arrange the sister's room.

This list reminds me that I still have to ask for my parents' marriage certificates from San Augustin, follow-up reimbursements for that stupid Pacific Educational Plans, renew my passport while filing my parent's passport application forms. My Tita Rosa hates it when I do this, mention things that needs to be done. She says it stresses her out to hear all these things. Which is why since a few months ago, I have stopped mentioning my activities to other people which was just my way of verbalizing these so I can remember better. It's usually not in the form of a rant but more like an enumeration for my purpose. Because really, more than any other time, I am happy to do things for other people now. I figured more than accomplishing things for myself, I feel better when I am useful to others. Or put another way, I hate myself more when I fail people I love than when I fail myself.

My Tita's flagging my toxic nature was timely. Aside from a very preoccupied, somewhat rude and always unavailable City Social Welfare and Development Officer that we my team and I met during fieldwork whom I swore not to be like EVER, it was one of the crucial things that helped me want to be more graceful under pressure. Composure matters especially when people depend on you. And although this was not a value instilled in our household while I was growing up (every little stressful thing is magnified there), I have decided I do not want to spread the negative vibe anymore because life is a handful as it is without people multiplying stress unnecessarily. I am relatively a chillax and jovial person but there is definitely room for improvement.

On Uncertainty

2011-06-03T02:52:00.012+08:00

I slept a total of 24 hours these past couple of days and have been eating like a male teenager who's training for a barangay basketball league. I have consumed gallons and gallons of water and yet, I am always tired. Seems like long days on field have taken their toll on me. But another hunch is that something might be subconsciously bothering me. I have lived long enough not to ignore the trend. When I am all mopey, I eat and then sleep!

Today, because of a cancelled meeting I spent most of the day on the internet, napping, watching a Godard film and staring into space. Oh and I also fixed myself some pancakes twice--for breakfast and dinner (cheese and nutella flavors respectively) because the whole batter batch has to be consumed immediately lest it spoils.

I was ready to call it a sad day and prepare for another field interview tomorrow but just a few minutes ago, I came across this quote from my cousin in my news feed. She quotes a dude named Mark Batterson:

"Embrace relational uncertainty. It's called ROMANCE. Embrace spiritual uncertainty, it's called MYSTERY. Embrace occupational uncertainty. it's called DESTINY. Embrace emotional uncertainty. it's called JOY. Embrace intellectual uncertainty. it's called REVELATION."

And then a eureka moment washed over me. I have always been comfortable with intellectual uncertainty. That I don't know a lot of things don't bother me because I am sure I have the ability to learn things. That a lot of things in life cannot be reasoned and explained is also okay with me and I have deep respect for the mysteries of this world.

Lately, I have come to terms with my volatile emotions and accepted that people, including myself, would have to live with my intuitive and feeling nature. I will not change how I am just to make others feel less awkward. I am also in the midst of winging it occupationally and not mind too much if I am not shaping my career the way others shaped theirs, doggedly, single-tracked and with a five-year plan.

I am now convinced that like photographing, life is but a series of reactions and all we can do is react to grace. There is destiny and there is free will. The latter is how you react to the former. There is no "what if," there is only "how then." This is not to say that it is for me not to do anything and just wait for fruitious events to transpire. Like photography, to be able to take a photo, you need to go out there. To seek one's destiny, as it were. I believe that destiny and God's will is the same thing and God's will is most manifested in one's heart's desire. Therefore, I believe that to be able to fulfill one's destiny, a person must seek out that which he truly desires. And one can only do that if one actually dives right into work and reflect some. Not the other way around.

I think I get all those which this Batterson fellow has written in a novel somewhere. But there's one thing left to embrace. Ah yes, relational uncertainty. Romance. Someone tried to teach that to me before but I was still too much a control freak then to be comfortable with the hazy and the unsure. And I bailed even before I could ease myself into the hot and maybe weirdly relaxing pool of sulfur-smelling questions. And he didn't hang around long enough to try to get me in again. It might have looked like too much work.

I wonder how I would fare these days. Of all Batterson suggests, this may be the most difficult. Phhhbt! I am taking one hurdle at a time. For now, my occupational destiny awaits. But I am praying to react positively should the cosmos suggest a romantic clue one day. And I truly hope that I won't be stupid and scared shitless not to astutely pick apart the desires of my brain from the desires of my loins from the desires of my heart. The first two mess things up big time! But maybe please, in a teeny weenie little pleading voice, can i ask that they all point to one and the same person? Pretty please?

Time Check

2011-05-27T00:01:00.005+08:00

i am not a watch person. while growing up, i had many watches gifted to me but never grew fond of any of them. so naturally, either i forgot about them when the straps came undone or the batteries gave out or after i decided to not wear them for a time because i always had a watch strap tan line and i had to have my skin tone evened out. also, i hated that my skin got moist from perspiration just below the strap all the time.

anyway, lately, i got myself a cheap disposable watch and found it very handy while conducting FGDs, interviews and presentations. it kinda keeps me on track knowing every now and then how much time i have left to do my work without checking my cell phone which would be distracting. also, lately, i am less prone to being late to appointments. it's a refreshing change in my scurry-happy routine. kinda makes me think of investing in a good watch.

i want a watch that tells the time, that's it. even on other people, i was never really a fan of watches that double as fancy jewelry. i want a simple clean watch with a simple uncluttered face. something like these perhaps

uniform wares 100 from dezeen watchstore

muji watches

achille castiliogni

extra normal by ross mcbride

om1 by ole mathiesen

now i just have to decide which font i liked, whether i'd get an all black model or a white-faced one (so difficult), oh and the when, where and how to get it, considering the last, and to me the most beautiful entry in this list costs USD 1200 or PhP 53,000!

Haphazard Morning Notes

2011-05-26T10:03:00.002+08:00

...or the i-just-woke-up-and-am-too-lazy-to-get-my-notebook-downstairs-and-i-just-scribble-in-here-because-the-laptop-is-beside-me post.

Possibility is more intriguing than reality...

Quoting Kierekegaard: "If I were to wish for anything, I should not wish for wealth and power, but for the passionate sense of the potential, for the eye which, ever young and ardent, sees the possible. Pleasure disappoints, possibility never. And what wine is so sparkling, what so fragrant, what so intoxicating, as possibility!"

The foolish longing for the asymptotic. The romantic's pining of that which he can almost have.

The cowardly inclination to be an appreciator not a practitioner.

But how long does possibility entice? Dreams deferred "dry up like a raisin in the sun."

Building a Mystery

2011-05-19T11:12:00.000+08:00

Still no definite plans but my daily activities tell me I'm in the middle of something important, like I only have to do what I do and Time, the Universe or God will make things fall into place. It's a peaceful feeling and even if sometimes little worries creep in, overall, I am not afraid.

2011-05-16T02:05:00.010+08:00

“I need you to go because I am in some wrestling match with myself here. I can’t trust myself not to manipulate you! I don’t know if I’m doing it now…I think I am.”

- Jack Nicholson as Charles in "How Do You Know"

2011-05-12T20:18:00.000+08:00

Nobody tells this to people who are beginners, I wish someone told me. All of us who do creative work, we get into it because we have good taste. But there is this gap. For the first couple years you make stuff, it’s just not that good. It’s trying to be good, it has potential, but it’s not. But your taste, the thing that got you into the game, is still killer. And your taste is why your work disappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase, they quit. Most people I know who do interesting, creative work went through years of this. We know our work doesn’t have this special thing that we want it to have. We all go through this. And if you are just starting out or you are still in this phase, you gotta know its normal and the most important thing you can do is do a lot of work. Put yourself on a deadline so that every week you will finish one story. It is only by going through a volume of work that you will close that gap, and your work will be as good as your ambitions. And I took longer to figure out how to do this than anyone I’ve ever met. It’s gonna take awhile. It’s normal to take awhile. You’ve just gotta fight your way through.

— Ira Glass

USkPH

2011-05-11T10:02:00.005+08:00

My colleague from IPC, Janiel, who is an architect and a watercolorist, has just created Urban Sketchers Philippines. Pretty exciting stuff, if you ask me. Basically, an informal group of artists meet every so often to have sketch sessions in a chosen area within the city. This is part of a global effort to document the living world one drawing at a time. The USK manifesto:

1. We draw on location, indoors or out, capturing what we see from direct observation. 2. Our drawings tell the story of our surroundings, the places we live and where we travel. 3. Our drawings are a record of time and place. 4. We are truthful to the scenes we witness. 5. We use any kind of media and cherish our individual styles. 6. We support each other and draw together. 7. We share our drawings online. 8. We show the world, one drawing at a time.

I am no artist but I do appreciate these kinds of efforts. And look, Janeil painted my favorite building of all time!

Peeping with God Eyes

2011-05-08T22:50:00.004+08:00

My mom and me, circa 1984. I was maybe a year old, her first baby at age 26. I wonder what she was thinking at this time. Did she have it all figured out? Has she kept it all together by then? Did she actually know the best temperature in which to bathe an infant? Did she not cringe while washing up my soiled lampin? Did she set aside enough money to buy me what I needed or was she up all night to figure out where she can get the extra bucks? When I was convulsing out of high fever, did she have the doctor's number ready? When I looked bored and restless, did she master a technique to make me laugh or shut me up? Despite having to cram a day job and taking care of me into her 24 hours, did she still have the energy and the enthusiasm to enjoy her one-on-one time with Dad? Mommy may not have the same spirited personality as Tina Fey, but something tells me that her prayers ran the same themes everyday. Especially because I grew up alright, I haven't lain with drummers (haha), I haven't fallen off any balcony and because she almost always suddenly called when I was just about to realize that at that moment, it was her i needed the most.

A Mother's Prayer
by Tina Fey

First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.

May she be beautiful but not damaged, for it’s the damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the beauty. When the crystal meth is offered may she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half and stick with beer.

Guide her, protect her: when crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.

Lead her away from acting but not all the way to finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes and not have to wear high heels.

What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.

May she play the drums to the fiery rhythm of her own heart with the sinewy strength of her own arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.

Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen. Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short – a tiger flower blooming magenta for one day – And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.

O Lord, break the Internet forever, that she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers and the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.

And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, for I will not have that shit. I will not have it.

And should she choose to be a mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back.

“My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a mental note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.

Summoning the Female Spunk for 27 Consecutive Days of Fieldwork. Yeow!

2011-05-04T05:49:00.001+08:00

2011-05-03T02:09:00.002+08:00

A royal wedding, a beatification, a resignation and an important death. As if the world isn't interesting enough, they made me research associate for a project today. I am no longer documenting the Post-Ondoy SIM FGDs and interviews. I will direct and conduct them and, along with other associates, i will write the final output for publication. What's up with May?

Shades Envy

2011-04-30T02:35:00.005+08:00

Body Talk

2011-04-29T22:34:00.003+08:00

My knee is busted. more than feeling weepy from the pain, i am very pissed! I can't bend it, I wince when I take a seat, even turning to one side during sleep is a burden and i'm limping all over the place. My movement is hampered and i am worried about fieldwork next week.

What pisses me off is the feeling that this may be a long-term condition. Mefenamic acid and ibuprofen don't do their magic even at increased dosages. Despite my refusal to concede older age, I'd even succumbed to taking anti-arthritis and anti-gout drugs only to discover zero relief. I'm afraid it may be a ligament tear manifesting itself two weeks after a hard fall when I slipped on a driveway incline in front of my brothers' apartment and my right knee suffered the worst impact. Turned out many have gone down at that exact spot.

I'm the kind that rarely gets sick. I have only been sent to the ER once and it was because of a funky iced tea I ingested from KFC-Mendiola (blacklisted!). It would have been fine except that I was vomiting, turning white and couldn't sit straight inside the taxi. Embarrassingly enough, I think I also resorted to crying as an involuntary coping response. Also, I rarely catch the flu and I contract the common cold and cough only once a year, if at all. But I am now discovering that the body has its limits.

Only last year, one of my molars was chipped and upon visiting the dentist, I discovered that it needs to undergo root canal. I also asked her to do a thorough checkup and we discovered at least four teeth that need work. I was quite disturbed because although they were not perfect, I took some pride in my set of teeth. I took good care of them, or so I thought. I guess it was normal wear and tear.

Also, the night before leaving for an out-of-the-country trip, I experienced partial deafness and an annoying ringing in my right ear. That would have been fine except it was also very painful and when it throbbed, my head and jaw also throbbed. Sometimes it was a constant pain and my head felt heavier at one side. Sometimes it was as though someone had suddenly punched the right side of my face from the inside. I had my uncle who is an EENT doctor diagnose me through text because there was no more time before the flight to consult one here. The antibiotics cost me two museum entrance tickets. If I was not determined to maintain some amount of cheerfulness then, the trip would have been disastrous.

Again, for three months this year, I had been dealing with a bad ingrown toenail. It came to a point when I had to visit the salon weekly to have a pedicure and couldn't wear shoes. Now my toenails had always been problematic. I have deep-set nails which itch and ache when not cleaned regularly but one wrong move had resulted to a tear and an infection and, after many days of futile bandaging and cleaning with peroxide and betadine and constant fear of being stepped on in the MRT, I had to accept defeat and undergo minor surgery one day before a location wedding shoot. Good thing my flatmate Marielle's dad is a surgeon and even if I had to troop to Paranaque where he practiced, I only paid a minimal amount for ER equipment use and medicine. That was a bummer. I still hate my nails today.

So what next? I hope they don't tell me this knee is beyond repair. I still want to run, move through the commuting crowd with ease, dance, climb mountains. I want to sleep dammit, and I can't right now because the only way I know how is on my stomach, turned to one side with my bad knee folded in a 30 degree angle.

Accidental Lenten Retreat Masters

2011-04-21T02:18:00.005+08:00

Dave Grohl and the boys have recently released a new album which I would not have learned of had I not clicked on a video of their bad-ass beatlesque performance at the David Letterman Show. I was blown away. My favorite tracks include the bop-inducing "White Limo" "These Days" which is a poignant and bittersweet recollection of a lost love told in the second person, the singable "A Matter of Time" and "Back and Forth," which sums up in music and words how I currently feel about me, about you and, very strangely, about God. Fitting for the season.

Listen to the album audio stream here. For your Foo Fighters Band History 101, watch the newly-released film documentary also entitled "Back and Forth" here.

There's Gotta be More

2011-04-20T04:13:00.008+08:00

My throat constricts as I think about the things that I have to do for the rest of April and the whole of May. After the case study writing stint with Foundation Z which was tiring but professionally enriching, I recently accepted a referred job documenting a Post-Ondoy and Post-Pepeng Monitoring Study funded by the Big Bad Bank. This will take me to field for three weeks straight which will actually be more hard-core than my previous ARMM assignment. The real catch is that I would have to turn in reports only one day after every five full days of FGDs and interviews. That means 3 reports in 3 weeks. How I am going to pull that off, I don't really know. I do know that it would entail Sting energy drinks and lots of internal heaving.

As of writing I still have to submit some work for one of my usual clients which Lai calls my sugar daddy--someone who gives me cash in advance for future intellectual favors. But that's just kinda sick to consider even for 5 seconds so I'm just gonna call him Data-entry Corp 2. Have to finish this by Monday.

Another thing which gives me the urge to whine like a baby is that I need to decide if I really want to submit my CV to the dark side -- well more like just the wet side. A former colleague recommended me to replace her as head of a community service/events coordination/publications head. Honestly, I am not keen on working there and handling people in a very politicized large corporation. But the adult part of me wants to just try it out for a while just to gain financial stability. They do, after all, pay well and my job would not be entirely soul-less.

My friends and family know that I do not particularly care about monetary rewards, even to a fault. The last 6 years of my working life as a social development worker, photographer, travel writer, social researcher etc has been enjoyable for me in the sense that I have experienced so many things, gone places, was exposed to the daily lives and issues of the common people in the country. I was able to know very inspiring people who, to no avail, have been convincing me to finally take an MA or diploma course in any field, pretty please (another blog topic altogether). But I never became wealthy. I never wanted to. I stayed afloat, lived within my means and just found richness in every experience I had.

But as days pass, I have come to admit that I cannot live like this forever. I need to bloat my savings for future endeavors or emergencies. My parents are tired and not growing any younger. If it weren't for my overly carefree attitude, I should have taken over a lot of things by now. Just a week ago, my Mom and Dad came by from the province for a couple of days to attend my brother's college graduation. They were driving for nearly 15 hours and before going to bed, my dad asked me to massage his back to which I willingly obliged. I remember how my brothers and I would walk through my parents' back as if we were traversing a pilapil when we were kids. It was a nightly ritual. Of course doing that now would break my dad's back so I just resorted to the usual rub. I was so surprised to find out how soft Dad's skin has become. Save for his smoking, Dad is never unhealthy. He eats well and plays tennis daily. Although on the thin side, he was very lithe and had six pack abs in his younger days. Now instead of being supple and leathery, his skin has just gone soft, like there was no flesh underneath, just skin, something else which felt like water and then bones. It was disconcerting. It felt like some mental disease has robbed me of precious years and I had missed out on important events in a loved one's life.

Still, I have apprehensions about doing an 8 to 5. My former colleague says she understands as, and I quote, "free spirits could never and should never be tied down." But I was reminded that there's gotta be more to life than frantic pleasure pursuits. I get that struggle is central in any human's being. More than ever, I am ready for a fistfight. But in order to take the blows and score some punches I first have to identify those for which I will be fighting. Maybe I should write them down and tape them in my daily line of vision, just like when I was 12 and I wholeheartedly believed and proved that nothing ever was impossible.

2011-04-16T03:56:00.005+08:00

You know that feeling when you enter a place for the first time after a considerable while of avoiding it, you become tentative and unsure why you're there again? Well that is how I am now. I'm sort of looking around, feeling the energy of the space, deciding whether I should turn back or face the inevitability and importance of the situation. Because somehow I know that writing again is not only inescapable but also necessary if I want to be grounded again. Not grounded in the sense of a kiwi finally admitting to herself that her species doesn't fly but grounded like a swallow conserving fuel for an impending full migration.

Oh, poo. This is how taking a break from writing does to someone--a resort to lame-ass metaphors. At this stage I don't really care. I am only grateful I am typing this at all.

One of the main reasons I decided to scrap blogging indefinitely at the start of 2010 was so that I could have real face-to-face conversations with other people, especially those whom I consider special or at least are not afraid or don't get easily bored with my company--which automatically make them special! Also, I felt that I was withdrawing too much into myself that thoughts were lumpy, not being sifted and mixed with other ingredients (yup, metaphors). Few things give me much pleasure as having my ideas scrutinized, affirmed or lambasted directly.

To a degree, I succeeded. I met a lot of friends for catch-up sessions, short trips and errand-bonding but I could not bring myself fully into the moment. In hindsight, maybe it was because I wouldn't dare put into the open things which I did not have a good understanding of. I listened of course, but only listening halts the promise of a pithy interaction leading to a full-blown discourse into certain conditions of mankind. Not to make it sound like socio-babble but if you look closely, topics of concern of most people in whatever walk of life mostly relate to human nature and how to best utilize or manage it for the sake of maintaining or altering the existing social fabric.

I write in order to think. And since I did not write, I thought haphazardly and felt uncertain about so many things. There's a kind of uncertainty that exists after you've exhausted all efforts to solve that uncertainty. Then, you are certain that you are uncertain. But there is also the other kind which is uncertainty because you know you haven't thought about it at all. Then you are uncertain whether certainty can be reached, which is the worst uncertainty of all. This had me living like a zombie, just doing the bare minimum to survive: work, spend, cultivate a skill set, amass huge amounts of information, maintain a civilized demeanor, repeat from the beginning.

Suffice it to say, my goal of truly interacting with others was not fully reached. My realization, which I have reached through this mini experiment, is that one cannot engage in real mutually enriching relationships with others without first continually intra-acting, and i'm inventing words here. This means habitually engaging oneself in truth-seeking exercises (writing, in my case) to build certain conclusions ready to be presented to and validated by other people, the operative word being certain. For others, this is all elementary. But my personal pedagogy has always been experiential. I just had to go through this myself.

And this, my invisible friends, is how I convince myself to start writing again.

2011-04-12T06:28:00.009+08:00

This is not a drill. I'm trying out some exercises for fear of atrophying. And besides, I updated the template. Like a nice new notebook impulsively purchased, it would be a waste not to fill this face-lifted blog up. So yeah, stay tuned, kids.

2010-12-13T23:34:00.002+08:00

Yes, yes yes! This is my kind of sunroof!

West Village Rooftop by Caliper Studio

2010-12-10T01:00:00.005+08:00

Not Easily

When we get beyond beauty and pleasure,

to the other side of the heart (but short

of the spirit), we are confused about what

to do next. It is too easy to say arriving

is enough. To pretend the music

of the mountain needs only to be heard.

That the dance is known by the dancing,

and the lasagne is realized by eating it.

Not in this place on the other side

of desire. We can swim in the Aegean,

but we can't take it home. A man finds

a melon by the road and continues up

the hill thinking it is the warm melon

that will remain after he has forgotten

the ruins and sea of the summer. He tells

himself this even as the idea of the taste

is replacing what the melon tasted like.

- Jack Gilbert

2010-12-08T23:48:00.009+08:00

The Tea Maker Had Coffee for 18 Months and Nobody Else Has the Right to Say Whether It Was Good or Bad

Happy 30th year of freedom, John.

2010-12-06T20:02:00.002+08:00

OH MY GOD. The National plays March 2011 within Cebupacific/PAL/Tiger Airways/Airphilippines BUDGET FLIGHT Radius!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is soooooooooooo dope!

2010-12-05T22:07:00.005+08:00

Recently, PDI published an article called "25 Things to do in the Philippines ... before fantasizing about other countries" . I'm done with 15. Okay, 10 technically because I did not pick strawberries in La Trinidad, I did not wakeboard in camsur, I did not go to Pampanga for the Sisig, I snorkeled not dove in Anilao and I was in CDO for work. Meh. The others have been in my bucket list for some time now. I'm planning to tick them all off by 2012. Who's with me?

2010-11-30T02:21:00.005+08:00

someday, i will also be shooting in heels

*this is a real life photographer not a model, mind you.

photo courtesy of thesartorialist.blogspot.com*

2010-11-27T13:44:00.002+08:00

i aim to be fabulous so i can have fabulous photos taken in my fabulous 20's which my children could show to my grandchildren for when i'm already dead and decaying. that's foresight. who says i've none?

2010-11-25T23:38:00.000+08:00

2010-11-23T00:34:00.003+08:00

A Kind of Burning

it is perhaps because
one way or the other
we keep this distance
closeness will tug as apart
in many directions
in absolute din
how we love the same
trivial pursuits and
insignificant gewgaws
spoken or inert
claw at the same straws
pore over the same jigsaws
trying to make heads or tails
you take the edges
i take the center
keeping fancy guard
loving beyond what is there
you sling at the stars
i bedeck the weeds
straining in song or
profanities towards some
fabled meeting apart
from what dreams read
and suns dismantle
we have been all the hapless
lovers in this wayward world
in almost all kinds of ways
except we never really meet
but for this kind of burning.

By Ophelia Dimalanta, 1934-2010

2010-11-14T02:47:00.002+08:00

oooh, what is up with these cute baby vids?

2010-11-01T04:10:00.004+08:00

Las Turistas Tontas Status Log #8

Despite its efficiency and affluence and technological advancement, Singapore is not arrogant nor self-lauding. Instead, Singapore to me is like a responsible adolescent with well-groomed hair that I just want to scruff up all the time. I want to introduce him to all things fun even if they are sometimes improper. I feel he has a lot to learn if he just lets loose. However, spending time with him also forces me to question myself. Did this kid get it right and all along I was wrong? Is efficiency and and maximum productivity the best way to live? On the plane ride home, I think this over and I decide Singapore did a very big mistake to be who he is today. What happened to wonder, to chance, to truths to be discovered by opening yourself up to chaotic magical surprises? Nevertheless, I still respect him for his principles and decisions. I will never be compatible with Singapore the country. I can never live there. But it doesn't mean I cannot meet him once in a while to learn a thing or two and to be able to realize that no, despite its many flaws, I can never not love the Philippines more.

2010-11-01T03:35:00.006+08:00

Las Turistas Tontas Status Log #7:

Our last day in Singapore turned out to be the third to the last. Before we went out, Majen and I discovered we had our departure dates wrong and missed our flight. We just had to live up to our self-imposed titles, hadn't we? How more tonta can you get than that?! Anyway, while Majen was semi-panicking, I just sat at the edge of Kathy's bed and told her to text Kathy. We talked her over our options and im'd Milan and Toni who helped us call our airline from the Philippines. I did not know whether to congratulate or whack myself for my lack of reaction. It either means I had grace under pressure or I just don't care about anything at all. We considered our options -- to stay one more week, save 50% of the ticket home and spend the saved 50% on food and other essentials, or pay the total of 100% and be in Manila in 2 days. I chose the latter. I would not be able stand Singapore with nothing to do in 5 days. Someone would have to restrain me as I might do more stupid things. Besides, I have an early morning plane to catch Nov. 1 for Tuguegarao. Majen can stay longer because she brought work with her but she also opted to fly with me, she says she's afraid she might throw herself out Kathy's window without me there.

So spilled milk on the floor, we waited for Kathy and went to IKEA. The place is a wonderland. IKEA is my candy store! I planned to buy this beautiful cutlery set for 45 SGD but opted to buy just one sample spoon from the As-is section. Also bought a Filicia throw rug and a work lamp. Of course we could not bring home furniture so we just inspected everything at the showroom and made believe.

The following two days we just killed some time: Continued snooping at Singaporean newspapers (the front page news of the day: 5 SPORTS STUDENTS EXPELLED FOR SMOKING), went to the Leica store at Raffles Hotel, spent Halloween at the Asian Civilizations Museum and wasted 1.5 hours lining up for 1 5 minute un-scary fright show--by far the scam of the decade. Finally did a courtesy call to Lolo Merlion and basked in the glow of the famed Singaporean city lights after eating at the real Makansutra where everything you turn, you hear a group of Filipinos chatting like it was just Divisoria. The Satay was good, too bad no Laksa.

While walking cross the lighted riverside path where hundreds of kids in costumes line up along a bar equivalent to the then Embassy, I was asking Kathy and Majen whether they have experienced being drawn to tears upon the sight of something beautiful like a landscape. They said they haven't. I have, I admitted despite predicting laughs and jeers--one time ago in a beach in Batangas. I was walking along a deserted cove then with my friends hundreds of meters away resting in the siesta heat. I just could not contain myself at the beauty of it all and teared up. How funny, I tell them, all these man-made grandeur, although overwhelming for most, does not elicit anything in me. I recognize all the human innovation and skill put into all these, all the planning involved, all the organizing skills, the science, the engineering. But I felt nothing staring at it. I was a bit bothered.

Perhaps the most fun Majen and I had, except for the zoo and the International Photo Festival respectively, is the quiet times at Kathy's place in Kembangan and meals at Hawker 110, our neighborhood hawker center. Majen loved the iced lemon tea.

2010-10-29T02:01:00.009+08:00

Las Turistas Tontas Status Log #6:

- Time to do the touristy things. Majen and I went to Orchard just so we can say we went there. later, we went to Sentosa for the same reason. Rode the Luge which was okay. I hadn't done any exhilarating rides in a while. I imagine it would be fun for a groups of rowdy people. The beach sucked though. I had an urge to announce, "people, do not look too happy. you haven't been to Boracay yet" But that's just me being snobbish. Hehe.

- Bought a luggage bag on sale at Vivo City. My shopping crazy brother and aunt would love Singapore for all its consumerist wonder. I just felt poor.

- Aside from the involuntary study of human interaction in this country and the awe with which I find efficient things -- how that hell could someone or a group of persons have thought of that and actually made it happen (i.e. synched bus stops and mrt rides, tap-automated almost everything) and why the hell can that not happen in the Philippines in a million years-- what kept me enthusiastic for most of the stay is the food! Hainanese Chicken, Onion Prata, Kaya Toast, Indian Curries with Naan, Hokkien Mee, Springy Fishball Soup, Different kinds of Tofu, Cereal Prawns, Nasi Lemak, Braised Pork Pao, Iced Kacang, all permutations of coffee and tea, etc. I've tried. I still haven't tried the Chili Crab, Laksa and Satay though which I plan to sample tomorrow at Makansutra when we finally do the most touristy thing -- picture taking with the Merlion at the Esplanade. Egh.

- 6 days in to Singapore and I already am starting to tire of it. No wonder why I get a sense that people here sometimes look lifeless. Kathy and Fred admit they are more enthusiastic people in the Philippines. Singapore does things to you, they say. I tell them they should not let it. But internally I correct myself. Easy for me to say. What do I know, I don't have to work here for years like thousands of Pinoys. Only they know how it really really is. I've just been given a glimpse.

2010-10-28T10:39:00.006+08:00

Las Turistas Tontas Status Log #4

- While Majen was working back at Kathy's house, I went to the city and headed towards Arab Street and Haji Lane. On the way I saw the Parksquare View tower and it reminded me of Ayn Rand and 1930's New York. I liked the gloominess of it. i also saw two glass buildings, I forget what they are called. Because they are shaped like toblerone bars made to stand, they look tall thin sheets of glass at an angle.

- Arab street and Ha Ji Lane are like a bigger Cubao X arranged around a Mosque. Rounded up the shops but entered just one which says "Used Books". I found interesting ones inside as well as Vinyl and LP discs of artists I would listen to. The person manning the shop had dreads past the waist. He was a welcome sight amidst all these properness. I also bought durian cake from a little shop where people lined up. Figured the cake was good just by that and the heavenly smell. Let's see when I get back to Manila.

- My real agenda coming here (aside from IKEA, that is) was the Singapore International Photo Festival. 8 shows, hundreds of photographs in different locations in the Bras Basah district! I was only able to go to 6 and i was reeling after. Also walking around the area, which is composed of Museums, Galleries, Art Schools, a mix of big and small contemporary buildings, although I truly enjoyed it, can make even a street walker like me ache in the calves. My other stop was the 2902 Gallery in the Old School, a design institute which was on top of Mount Sophia. It's just a hill in Philippine standards, but still. Good thing I asked the girl in the gallery how to get to the National Museum of Singapore the shortest way which is a long flight of stairs through an alley, much like the stairs in Ateneo going to Barangka but longer and more picturesque. I got to the National Museum 7:15 just 15 minutes shy of the free international screening of Tiong Bahru: Civic Life, a 20-minute film about a slice of Singaporean life in a hawker center. Watching it and the 3-minute films that came before it gave me a better sense of space-self connection in the Singaporean weltanshauung.

- Sigh, I really hope we have something like the SIPF in the Philippines also. I really do. It would be really exciting!

- As if the day wasn't giddily overwhelming yet, I met up with Majen and my cousin Seneca for dinner at Little India. I love the spiciness of Indian food. Soaked up the hustle and bustle of Mustafa Center and bought some souvenirs and made a long-overdue perfume purchase.

- Singapore does not encourage people in the streets late at night. At 11:50 p.m. we got left behind by our train (Red Line) and caught a circle line train (Yellow Line) to go to the Kembangan station (Green Line) which entailed lots of running. Hahaha. Majen and I also got left by the last bus and so we walked to Kathy's condo which was okay considering we were laughing like crazy with our take-away iced lemon tea from the hawker center.

- After that, I had to make a last-minute IT for Melaka for the next day. And as anyone would guess, Melaka would not push through.

Las Turistas Tontas Status Log #5

- Humidity, Majen's monthly period, my body ache from yesterday's adventure, cash just enough as in sagad to the cents for up to Saturday, Majen not so much interested in heritage architecture and walking compared to me--all led to our decision not to go and just squeeze Singapore of its juices.

- Went to Bugis Street market just to see what the ruckus was about and ate lunch there. Brought Majen to Arab Street and just lolled around in the humid heat. Went into the shops this time and struck a little convo with the Chinese Singporean Guy the Define Happiness Sunglass Shop about Ray Bans. Tried bandung (rose) juice. Majen did not like it. She said it was like drinking perfume.

- Was home early around 7:30. Slept like a log after.

2010-10-26T00:06:00.008+08:00

Las Turistas Tontas Status Log #3:

- There's a lady in the Kembangan station who stands in between escalators and greets everybody everyday a good morning in different languages. Kathy said the first time she saw her, she said magandang umaga without batting an eyelash. This morning, I was greeted with Anyong Haseo and just a second later, Konichiwa. Looks like I gave her a hard time. Sorry lady, Pinay lah!

- Surged through Raffes Place Interchange during the morning rush hour just for the heck of it. If you close your eyes, and listen closely, you'd notice there are no murmurs or banter. They were like employees in combat boots or soldiers in high heels and leather shoes.

- Nasi Lemak is love.

- I want to get to know some of the zoo workers and make a photo story of their daily lives. Yes, even when they are in their own HDB's. I just discovered that I adore Asian elephants. I particularly love Gambir and her mahout. I think their relationship is already worth one full story.

- I realize that about 40 percent of human speech in the Philippines consist of complaints. Even when a person is alone, you'd hear he occasional tsk, sigh, guffaw or obvious 'parinig.' One of the reasons people in Singapore don't talk much is that they have nothing to complain about. Everything works perfectly and things proceed like clockwork. The society is arranged in such a way that conversing with one another is minimized. There are signs everywhere for everything. The EZ link cards are your ticket to anywhere. I wonder how the bus drivers do it -- working whole day without talking at all. Majen thinks only a few societies have the concept of panis-laway. Yesterday I bought something in a shop but first asked for the price because i could not see any. The salesman apologized quite profusely for the lack of price tag. I smiled and said it was okay but what I really wanted to do was poke his side and kid him for 5 minutes for being such a worrywart until he really laughs.

- Perhaps the only thing I envy about this country is that it is so safe to use your gadgets in the streets. People use their iPads, phones and cameras everywhere, even in the train. You won't need a zippered bag here. Bringing something as accesible as a basket would be fine.

- Going to Geylang (brothel district FTW!) strangely felt like I was back in college going to my aunt's Malate home for the weekend to rush some papers using her computer. Many of the buildings resembled Sta. Cruz where i worked for a couple of months and one alley looked like my old neighborhood in Barangka. Strangely, Geylang felt like home.

- The MRT Love Your Ride Jingle gives me the Pleasantville creeps. By now I may be partly brainwashed by subliminal messages. If you won't recognize me when I get back, please for the love of all things true, slap me. Hard.

- I haven't done any shooting. Even if I want too, I can't shoot when I'm with someone. Tomorrow I'll be all alone in the big city so I will give it another go. Timely that i read this (http://blog.kevinmoloney.com/?p=650) tonight. I needed a reminder.

- Also, just to save some flying weight, I opted not to bring my (read: paper) notebook. First time to travel without one. Wrong move, indeed. I still cannot write down thoughts electronically. Doing so leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Tomorrow I will get myself a little notebook.

2010-10-24T23:59:00.005+08:00

Las Turistas Tontas Status Log #2:

Same volume of people like in Manila in some places but totally different noise levels. I think this is because many Singaporeans are Buddhists and have a more serene and less aggressive disposition. After getting our feet wet in a Hindu temple during a massive ceremony today (uh, literally as we walked barefoot on wet floors and carpets), Majen Kathy and I immersed ourselves longer in a Buddhist temple. I liked the recorded chanting there. At first I thought it was real chanting and started to look for monks. I discovered small round ceiling speakers instead. Not bad those little things.

2010-10-23T23:10:00.001+08:00

Las Turistas Tontas Status Log #1:

Singapore is so organized I wanna wreak some havoc.

2010-10-20T22:47:00.002+08:00

think tank retrospective 30

i want this bag!!! well the gears too... but this bag is pretty awesome! fits everything you need, it's waterproof and inconspicuous too. oh oh oh oh oh! i want this bag!!!

2010-10-12T03:30:00.004+08:00

this is the view from my former boss' new apartment in the netherlands. her husband who is also there doing some scientific experiments through a grant entitled his facebook album "view from a crappy place." i'd take a crappy place for this sight. i love the church! i know there are more beautiful and magnificent churches in the area but i like this because it is at the center of a clump of apartments which seem to be enveloping it in an embrace. reminds me of a setting for a musical. an extreme urge to belt out "where is love" from Oliver suddenly overcame me upon seeing this photo. lovely lovely lovely!

(photo by nath)

2010-09-30T00:31:00.003+08:00

*image picked up somewhere in the intarwebz,

i can't remember where*

2010-09-11T03:41:00.002+08:00

If I ever get to have a kid, I will teach him/her to memorize a few poems just like how my mom did with me. Look at this cute kid reciting "Litany" by Billy Collins. He's a natural at the performing arts. You can tell by his tone and the way he prolongs certain words. Amazing!

2010-09-10T03:11:00.000+08:00

i held out my hand and my heart was in it.

2010-09-09T04:50:00.002+08:00

I told you about the fool on the hill,
I tell you man he living there still.
Well here's another place you can be.

- j, p, g and r

2010-09-07T03:52:00.004+08:00

a moment of clarity, a succession of new questions. age has taught me so many things and, at the same time, has proven that i don't know any more than my 12-year-old self did. life just gives a lot of examples to prove the thesis statement. yet even the simplest of truths has so many facets that any explanation to dissect the many layers of its meaning is left wanting.

2010-09-01T02:06:00.004+08:00

this is what booze looks like under a microscope. almost makes me happily drunk just by looking at it. a simple overused "thank you" understates all the gratitude i feel for all the people who have loved me at one point or another all these 27 years. if not in words or in actions, i hope by some telepathic force or energy transference, i am able to send you back all the love i have received tenfold. life is good, salud!

*more booze photos here.*