Baguio Below

I like for you to be still*

2011-11-23T00:07:00.002+08:00

These days I prefer silence.
People and places feel far away and I am adrift.
Home is at the tip of my tongue.

*line from Pablo Neruda's "I like for you to be still"

A note on my grandmother

2011-11-01T00:07:00.004+08:00

How have you all been this long weekend? I'm writing from home, and I think this is the first time in many visits that I'm not worrying about school or work.

I've been spending time with my family, remembering loved ones who have passed on. I especially miss my grandmother, because November 1st actually reminds me of her. When I was much younger, she used to marshal our big family off to the cemetery every year to visit the graves of our lolos and lolas. It would be a day-long event, with her in the thick of everything. She would have my titas pack Marie biscuits and bottles of Coke so we wouldn't go hungry during our expedition. Apart from the candles and flowers, we would bring brooms to clean the family plot. It was a busy scene: the adults chattering amid tidying up and the children playing with candle wax until someone got burned. Sometime during the day, my grandmother would bring me and my cousins along for a walk through the bustling cemetery. We would call on relatives and family friends, my cousins and I inducing the customary exclamations of "Nagdadakkel dan!" (Look how big they've grown!). Often, we would run into this ancient great-uncle who always looked spiffy in a brown suit. She was a real family woman, my grandmother. On the day we are supposed to remember the dead, she made it a point to bring together the living.

Happy Halloween, ickle ghouls and goblins

2011-10-31T23:20:00.002+08:00

Observing All Hallows' Eve in costumes and with trick-or-treating isn't really Filipino, but since these practices are already in our heads, I would like to see more children dressed up as manananggal and tikbalang. Our monsters are as fascinating and terrifying as any vampire or werewolf.

Side photo: A A Wild Sheep Chase sheep shirt! (found in Artwork for P150)

I'm reading Un Lun Dun by China Mieville to keep things sufficiently eerie. What are you reading this fine ghostly night?

Today is Hanna Day

2011-10-21T23:23:00.002+08:00

This is for Banana on her 25th birthday:

You are a dreamer,
a cumulus cloud chaser.

You are a storyteller,
and yes, "your bed is a raft."

You are a wordsmith,

Long Live the Oxford comma!

You are a paperback lover,
a book devourer.

You are a green Post-it note,
"Don't forget the cake."

You are a music mastermind,
secret mix-tapes playing in your head.

You are a true original,
a rare vintage LP.

You are a lion-heart,

and life is a waltz.

Home again.

2011-10-16T21:39:00.012+08:00

Interverse, did I not tell you that I was back home? That's right, again. I'm here to do some data gathering for a special problem for my terrestrial sampling methods class (Did you also feel that I am sharing unnecessarily here? Because I'm typing this and I have a feeling you won't really care.) Anyhow, plunging on shamelessly, the sampling is done! Yes, this morning, while it was shining and John Hay smelled all of pine and dew. We saw a black labrador and lots of ferns. So many ferns.

This is my mother. She was my RA for the day, even when she could have been sleeping in on the weekend. She's the best.

After, the boys met up with us and Pa took us out to Army Navy for lunch in that new Convergys place (My fine Baguio folk, please. Do not roll your eyes at my belatedness, this place is still novel to me.) I had the steak burrito, and was satisfied as always. However: Army Navy, you know you totally strum my guitar, but you seriously need to rethink your condiments. I am nuts about your cream thing, but more salsa I say! Plus, your lemon wedge is not so much a wedge as half a wedge. Acid is the secret source of your burrito's power. Give me a full wedge!

(Before I forget: my baby brother is taller than me and there are unknowable things happening to his voice.)

And then, Booksale after. It was on sale more than it usually is because the rest of SM is on sale. So:

What was a Bukowski doing there? For only P127 too. And finally, a copy of What Was She Thinking? (Notes on a Scandal) because it was only P45 and didn't have the movie cover. I can be obsessive like that. Also, Booksale is cheeky (read: bookmark). That's why we love them.

At the end of the day, we dropped by the SM Supermarket. Boys and girls, maiawawannak idiay. The tocino and the tapa were not where they normally are. I wanted to sit quietly in a corner and wait for my father to come get me. Because that is what you are supposed to do if you get lost.

There is an art to packing groceries. When I was younger and there was no SM Supermarket, we used to shop in local grocery stores like U-Need or Victoria's or 5 Cents Up or Sunshine. The bagging boys could fit everything we bought in three bags or less. They were genius packers, efficient in their use of space and quick with their hands. They would momentarily approximate the sizes and shapes of the items, and find the perfect nook for them in each white plastic bag. When you carried the bags, things didn't stick out to poke you in the leg. The bottoms would be flat so the bags would be upright when you put them down. And the eggs were always on top. When people had too many items for plastic bags, the boys would suggest they would be much better off with a box. Everything would fit neatly in there too, tied up in straw, a perfect handle knotted at the top for easy transport. In SM, they just toss things thoughtlessly into huge plastic bags. Weekly grocery shoppers tend to end up with six or seven loads. It is a wasteful process. Remember when we said we would stop using plastic?

Later, dancing hippos. I am tired of looking at plants.

Living for today

2011-10-14T22:37:00.005+08:00

You guys. Isn't that the most boring cover ever? But Jeffrey Eugenides, I am your bitch. I will believe everything you write.

Internetz, I am all kinds of busy, y u no leave me alone?

Today, my brain clicked. I think it is the result of the seemingly unrelated bunch of images and videos and news stories I've been encountering while trawling the interwebs.I was like the Intersect, except MUCH slower and I still don't know kung fu.

Randomly, have you seen Emmanuel Kelly's rendition of "Imagine" on The X-Factor? The YouTube video has been shared and re-shared on Facebook all day. The info box said: "BEWARE...Make sure you have lots of tissue beside you." I scoffed, Challenge Accepted. And you guys? I cried. (My friends will tell you I cry at anything. They would be right. So I really don't know what I was Challenge Accepted-ing for.) That John Lennon. He knew his shit. And that boy. He can sing.

Anyway, my brain. It is as if twinkly lights have come on one by one in my head and, outside looking in, I feel like I'm looking up at the Sagada night sky in January. I'm thinking more clearly, and I'm inspired. I remember why I'm doing what I'm doing. It will be useful in the coming days and weeks when I will be a writing machine.

Later.

Let's make our schools safe

2011-10-13T16:40:00.001+08:00

Given Grace Cebanico was someone's child.

Superheroes and some mention of my ovaries

2011-10-12T20:07:00.004+08:00

A semi-productive day.

Jeepney rides have always done wonders for my cognitive processes. On my way home this evening, I had an epiphany about my thesis. I've had epiphanies about my thesis before, but this time, I feel like maybe I've found the Golden Ticket. Anyway, I have written the idea down and it will soon be fodder for the gods of Academia. No worries, that's just the way things are. I expect my brain will be sufficiently chewed out before this whole operation is over.

Female pop tarts, it is lady time. There is a reason PMS can also stand for Perchance to Maim Someone. One minute, I am stuffing my face with unicorns and rainbows, and the next, I want to break someone's face. It is that week: death glares, gnashing teeth. And I know it, too. I'm aware my rage is irrational the way we realize a dream is a dream. It is Inception in my ovaries.

There will be rain again soon, and its name is Ramon.

And finally:

Evasive maneuvers

2011-10-11T10:34:00.003+08:00

Internetz, I have been blue. It's almost the end of the semester, and there are many papers to write. I'm responding with my usual blend of Procrastination. There is a little bit of Cycling, and much Avoidance (and evidently, an overuse of Capitalization). I've been reading (things mostly unrelated to school and/or work), writing (see: reading), and, I'm ashamed to say, spending too much time on Facebook. I while away the hours until there is nothing left of the day, and I spend most of the night feeling guilty. I realize my lack of productivity and wallow, boxing myself into a corner. Then, to shake off the bad vibes, I find other means of distraction. It's a vicious cycle.

Tonight:

2011-10-10T22:55:00.002+08:00

I am back in The Big City. Seeking refuge in Trese 4: Last Seen After Midnight and a big bag of potato chips.

Home.

2011-10-07T09:40:00.004+08:00

Ickle weblings, hearken! Join me in my elation. I am home.

It has been a strange week, where I was unable to identify my emotions and I have been dragging my feet. I texted Lem to complain about my waning academic drive (a different story), and he assured me that all would be well when I'd get home: "You'll have a few days to refocus here." He was right. As soon as the cold enveloped me, my mind started to clear.

I have always loved October. While September is the cusp of the seasons, October has always signaled the arrival of true cold. This is when the air starts to become crisp, a preview of what December and January will be like. The colors of the city thrum with an animated glow, and I feel my blood come alive. This is how I know things are never as bad as they seem.

Steve Jobs dies at 56

2011-10-06T11:26:00.002+08:00

Steve Jobs transformed the way we listen to music, how we communicate, and how we perceive media and technology as a whole. But more importantly, he was admired by his peers and respected by the people who worked for him. The man was a visionary.

Steve Jobs passed away today. He was only 56.

[Photo source]

Reading is the best medicine

2011-10-06T10:22:00.002+08:00

The Whitby Bookshop by artist Tom Gauld

The Specialist's Hat by Kelly Link

2011-10-02T21:36:00.002+08:00

"When you're Dead," Samantha says, "you don't have to brush your teeth."

"When you're Dead," Claire says, "you live in a box, and it's always dark, but you're not ever afraid."

Claire and Samantha are identical twins. Their combined age is twenty years, four months, and six days. Claire is better at being Dead than Samantha.

Read the rest of this deliciously creepy story here.

I was an island

2011-10-01T19:45:00.006+08:00

Believe me, I'm just as surprised as you are. I'm back after only a week of silence. I thought I should take advantage of this random bout of diligence.

This is what the world looks like now: A theater teacher shrewdly uses Joss Whedon's Firefly to demonstrate honor and principle, and is threatened with criminal charges. In the Philippines, government officials are so obtuse and out of touch, they think it's okay to Photoshop themselves into disaster photos. Yes, the world is one big facepalm.

Space Ghost is not amused. [Image source]

There was another typhoon today. I hear Baguio has been having a hard time of it. My family and many of my friends live there, and I am thinking of them. The Philippine name for Typhoon Nalgae is Quiel. It is a strange name. It's the sort of thing fantasy anime fans might name their first born.

It is quiet in the house tonight and I am looking for something to watch to ward off the blues. Earlier today, I found out that Edgar Wright has included Rushmore in his Criterion Top 10. Coolio. I have been itching to watch it since. Acquiring it now because, apparently, I do not have Rushmore among my files. I am not sure how this could have happened, and now I am worried about the state of my Bill Murray collection.

Kelly Link has been an excellent companion during these stormy days. Her stories are smart and spine-tingling, and her writing is just delicious. Really, I can't get enough of it. I am putty in her hands, dazed by her literary swag. First, she makes me laugh. Then, she makes my skin crawl so I am forced to look behind me. Then suddenly, she comes up with a paragraph that is absolutely heart-breaking, like:

Jeremy's father's office is above the garage. In theory, no one is meant to interrupt him while he's working, but in practice, Jeremy's father loves nothing better than to be interrupted, as long as the person who interrupts brings him something to eat. When Jeremy and his mother are gone, who will bring Jeremy's father food? Jeremy hardens his heart.

Kelly Link, I can't even.

In music, I have been listening to more or less the same stuff. Except I've been enjoying a lot more of Allison Weiss. I like her poetry: "I was a wolf, dear, apart from the pack/ But you answered my cries in the dead of the night/ And told me that you had my back."

My Supernatural download has finished, care bears. I'm off to commune with the boys. I'm like a Twi-hard, but for these guys. Later.

[Short Title, please]

2011-09-25T23:31:00.013+08:00

I finished Noisy Outlaws, Unfriendly Blobs, and Some Other Things That Aren’t as Scary, Maybe, Depending on How You Feel About Lost Lands, Stray Cellphones, Creatures from the Sky, Parents Who Disappear in Peru, a Man Named Lars Farf, and One Other Story We Couldn’t Quite Finish, So Maybe You Could Help Us Out this afternoon. It's a short story collection edited by Ted Thompson, published by McSweeney's in 2005. The book mostly contains heart-warming/ mildly disturbing tales that can be appealing to both young and adult readers. The entire collection was a delight, but my particular favorites were "Monster" by Kelly Link and "Grimble" by Clement Freud.

Kelly Link writes so cleverly and subtly that you can't tell that the eerie has made a home in your spine. By the time I was finished with her story, I wanted to burrow into my blankets and turn on all of the lights. It was mid-morning. Another thing I wanted to do was read all of her stuff.

I loved "Grimble." It reminded me so much of when I was growing up, when my parents had to travel a lot for work. So, very much like Freud's plucky title character, I learned how to be alone at a young age. In the story, Grimble's parents leave him a list of neighbors he could go to for help. These dears would help him make dinner through notes and thoughtfully written recipes. When both my parents were out of town, I had my grandmother. She told me stories about funny relatives and let me read while she did the crossword puzzle. Grimble was quite the sensible young man, smart and observant in the ways only small people can be. But even more endearing was, he was really still just a little boy missing his parents. I have been missing mine, too.

Neil Gaiman's "Sunbird" and Jonathan Safran Foer's "The Sixth Borough" were also in the collection. It made me happy to read those stories again. "The ACES Phone" by Jeanne DuPrau was the real surprise. I tried hard not to cry. But come on. A puppy and a boy. A recipe for tears.

The stories in the collection were affecting in a deep, quiet way. They alone were a genuine pleasure. But the book itself was an interesting encounter. I'm a sucker for pretty books (yes, I do judge books by their covers). Who would not be drawn to a round, green monster imploring you to hold it? But there's more: inside the dust jacket is the beginning of a story by Lemony Snicket. It was to be finished by brave, willing souls and sent back to the publisher as a contest entry. "The winning entry [was to] be published in a future book, and the author [to] receive a complete set of A Series of Unfortunate Events, signed by Mr. Snicket himself, along with eleven pounds of chocolate, a Venus flytrap, six hundred tiny glass bottles, and a large sack of dirt from Winnipeg."

The proceeds of the book help fund a reading program for young people. A very worthy book for a very worthy cause.

Please read this book.

Looting at the 32nd Manila International Book Fair

2011-09-25T22:38:00.010+08:00

Well, this is awkward. I really want to start writing about this big book fair but my brain is obliging me to explain my long absence. I would have to go back a quite a ways because the last time I wrote here was the beginning of June and it is, in fact, the end of September. So, how about we skip that and go straight to the book porn?

I am temporarily putting my blog sabbatical (cough) on hold because I want to write about the 32nd Manila International Book Fair. There were these lovely blog posts on the fair (namely Carina's at Nothing Spaces, Aldrin's at The Automaton, and Bloo's at Bookmarked) and I was inspired to write my own. I love it when people take photos of their books. Hanna and I put up loot posts regularly on The Exchange. It's our mechanism of enablement (~~this is not a word~~ goodness, it is a word).

Anyhow, I went to the MIBF with Lem. We were there on September 17th, so the fair had already been going on for four days. We got to the convention center pretty early so the crowds were still a bit thin. This is when things started to get crazy:

This is me sniffing around in the National Bookstore bargain bins (I spent most of my time here).

This is Lem smiling behind a new edition of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory by Roald Dahl. The folks at Penguin sure know how to make pretty covers. And look, an introduction by Lev Grossman.

A copy of Jonathan Safran Foer's Tree of Codes. It is a beautiful book. We admired the pages in hushed, reverent tones. I took a photo because I couldn't afford it.

There was a cosplay next door. The Joker and the rest of the Arkham gang came out to play:

These are Lem's bags:

These are my bags:

A third of Lem's buys. He found these during the first five minutes and, just like that, his money vanished into the cash machine. He was particularly taken with the Justice League of America Volume 1: The Tornado's Path. He asked me to read it, and I did. I cried. Damn you and your heart, Roy Harper.

This is my haul:

The most expensive of the lot was the graphic novel Black Hole by Charles Burns, which I got for 20% off. The rest were rooted from the bins. I'm especially pleased with Little Doctor by Cory Doctorow and Zeitoun by Dave Eggers. I have long been curious about Little Doctor because Neil Gaiman likes it. And since reading You Shall Know Our Velocity, I've been wanting to get me some more Eggers. Also, he has such pretty books. During a quiet moment at the fair, I started reading Zeitoun and it took my breath away. Look:

On moonless nights the men and boys of Jableh, a dusty fishing town on the coast of Syria, would gather their lanterns and set out on their quietest boats. Five or six small craft, two or three fishermen in each. A mile out, they would arrange their boats in a circle on the black sea, drop their nets, and, holding their lanterns over the water, they would approximate the moon.

I've always wanted to own Fevre Dream, George RR Martin's classic vampire novel. This was before A Song of Ice and Fire. On a side note, I finally have (okay, borrowed) a copy of A Dance with Dragons. I will read it when there are no more papers to write and no more workshops to document.

I bought Girl at Sea by Maureen Johnson because YA is the source of my happy while living in The Big City. Also because she'd already won me over with a bunch of blue envelopes (and yes, cute English boys). It had a green sticker, and I took that for a good sign. I was lucky, because it did actually mean a 40% discount. Not bad in the way of deals.

My funds are still recovering from that single day of ~~reckless~~ sensible spending. These days, my default financial state is broke. It has been a week since then, and already I am suffering from book-buying withdrawal.

Later.

The once and future king

2011-06-04T23:23:00.000+08:00

Roger Federer made it to the Finals of the French Open. He defeated Novak Djokovic 7-6 6-3 3-6 7-6, bringing the Serb's 41-0 streak to a grinding halt.

A frustrated Novak (Photo from Roland Garros 2011)

And so, a Nadal-Federer final. Just when you begin to think the world is out of joint, something like this happens and restores your faith in humanity.

(Source)

We're halfway.

2011-06-01T10:24:00.005+08:00

Yesterday was my last day as an instructor. Havoc duly wreaked.

The end of an (kind of) era has made me introspective.

A lot of my thoughts have been settling on last summer. I'm remembering random details about spending time with my family in The Netherlands and traveling alone. The other day, I suddenly thought about the grey sweatshirt I left on a train to Florence. A gust of nostalgia blew through my rib cage, and consequently rattled my heart. Far-away places tug at me. I miss the mobility.

This is me on another train, before I lost my sweatshirt.

Anyway, there will be some of that next week. My return to the Big City is properly underway. Apart from the minor debates on whether or not I should bring the rice cooker or how many mugs I should take, the preparations have been uneventful. Ma has been going around the house, unearthing things that could be useful in the apartment.

For a while, the idea of living in Manila carried stigma. I couldn't think about the place without getting hyper acidic. I suppose, these days, the strong adverse reaction has dialed down. I now respond to Manila in pretty much the same way any Northerner would. I have spent enough time in the mountains putting my soul back together. I love living with my family, but I feel like it's time for me to jump back into the trenches.

Later.

The world is vast

2011-05-30T22:43:00.003+08:00

I have been a very bad blogger. But look-- Señor Chang!

And now all is forgiven.

A couple of weeks ago, my family and I went to the beach. I bobbed around in the sea for a bit, then rolled around on the sand with my baby cousins. They collected smooth rocks and I would stick them back in the sand. The babies would promptly find them again. We also made sand castles where you dribble wet sand from your hand until you end up with piles that resemble towers and turrets. When I resigned myself to dry land, I found that my older cousins had rented out a videoke machine for the night. We sang ourselves hoarse.

Between now and the last time I wrote here, there was a little work done on the house. (Yes, that is how long it has been.) Jake now has a room of his own, and the living room walls were repainted. Also, my overhead light has been repaired. That doesn't seem like a big deal, but it is. I have been living in semi-darkness for the last two years. Obviously, my room was generally bright during the day. At night, though, all I had was my reading lamp. Because it's been so long, I have to remind myself to turn on the overhead light in the evening. I now seem to have an easier time finding things at night.

Relocation is in my future. In a yester-post, I briefly mentioned I'd be going back to Manila. That's happening more or less now-ish. The time has come for me to address that scholarly elephant in the room. I have a few more semesters to finish what I started.

I know I had more interesting things to say when I started writing this. Anyway, check out this clever comic strip by IdaEva. I ~~have struggled~~ struggle with my own creativity, and it set off a couple of sparks in my brain.

Later.

The Gestalt Prayer

2011-04-10T21:40:00.003+08:00

I do my thing and you do your thing.
I am not in this world to live up to your expectations,
And you are not in this world to live up to mine.
You are you, and I am I,
and if by chance we find each other, it's beautiful.
If not, it can't be helped.

After everything

2011-04-09T00:57:00.003+08:00

School has been over for a while. I'm only just getting the hang of moving slowly again. Shortly after I turned in my grades, I went through the usual post-hell week blues. A tiny fraction of my brain understood that I was now without obligation. But I couldn't, for the life of me, figure out exactly what to do with myself. So mostly, I just sat around, studying fascinating bumps on the wall. I also made the rounds in my head, checking for damage.

I've come around since then, but haven't quite gotten to the point where my writing is all flow-y. So bear with me while I incoherently blurt out bits of my life.

In June, I'll be moving back to Manila where spending money is kind of like exhaling. And with all those nice, well-stocked bookstores too. Irony, you sneaky bitch.

The best thing about not having to go to class everyday is I get to read as much as I want. Sure, there are pesky interruptions like bathing and eating, but things on the literary front are golden.

On The Exchange, Hanna and I embark on the 30 Day Book Challenge. We are wreaking all sorts of havoc over there. Join us! As of now, we are up to Day 5.

Ma is back, which is a relief. (I don't think I have to mention how pleased Brother Bear and Dog are.) The first thing she did when she got home was clean. The thing about mothers is, they manage to find dirt even when you thought you'd got everything. So now, the house is clean by maternal standards.

I'm almost done with The West Wing. I know someone who is mightily proud of me.

I'm not teaching this summer, but I have tasks for the department here and there. It's not a bad set-up. I have lots of free time and still get to work for my pay.

I end here. Oh and another thing, school letting out also means I treat my sleeping habits with wanton disregard. Later.

You will smile again

2011-03-12T20:29:00.000+08:00

Poster from Signalnoise (Click for a list of links to organizations engaged in relief efforts.)

Mother Nature is heaving.

My heart breaks for the people who have lost so much. I pray that they find their way back to hope. I pray that they begin to heal.

I am thankful that the people I love are safe. I pray that they continue to be.

As the first waves reach our shores, I pray that everyone takes care.

While it doesn't seem that way now, things will get better.

Are you a brutal heart?

2011-02-19T19:06:00.001+08:00

I didn't much care for The Romantics, but I'll give you this: it had a killer soundtrack. I have fallen absolutely in love with this song:

Brutal Hearts by Bedouin Soundclash featuring Coeur de Pirate

Congratulations, this is a rant

2011-02-17T20:42:00.001+08:00

Strange day where I lectured for three hours straight in the morning and there were two consecutive earthquakes in the afternoon.

I went home early today and almost fell asleep watching The Romantics. I don't think it had anything to do with my recent lack of sleep. I hear it is based on a book, which I have not read. The author wrote the screenplay, which should have been a good thing. It was also brimming with beautiful people, including Malin Akerman whom I have always had a guilty crush on. Also, Anna Paquin and Adam Brody. And Katie Holmes without her famous hair. And Josh Duhamel. These ridiculously gorgeous actors play a bunch of college friends who reunite to see two of their own get wed. This movie had so much potential but it tripped all over itself in the effort to realize it. I'm not sure even Josh Duhamel's abs could have saved it, but it would have helped to have had more of that. He recites a poem, but by then, I was only watching because I am polite.

So. Out of politeness, I finished the movie and then went to sleep. It was touch and go at first (I had me some caffeine), but my exhaustion eventually won out. It was the kind of sleep where drool is a definite possibility and strange, vivid dreams are a given. It would have been restful, but I woke up when the sun was going down. Naps that end in twilight are the worst. I get cranky and often declare that I Want To Rip Someone's Head Off.

In It's Kind of a Funny Story by Ned Vizzini, the protagonist Craig Gilner obsesses about his numerous daily tasks until he becomes paralyzed and is unable to accomplish anything. He calls this process Cycling. Vizzini provides a name for something I am quite familiar with (In another post, I will talk more about how much I could relate to It's Kind of a Funny Story, it was kind of alarming). I have had episodes where it became impossible for me to finish anything because I would psyche myself out with overthinking. And because I was unproductive, I would fall into a depressed stupor. This has not been the case lately, though. I have been mobile and prompt, and participating. But even then, there is still so much to do. This would not be so bad, but there are also the unforeseen and unfortunate setbacks to deal with. My frustration and anxiety about school has been growing, and I can feel my brain ticking. Fuckstockings, I am teetering on the edge of Cycling.

**********

Writing helped, but I feel bad that this negativity is now loose in the Universe. To begin the healing, I give you chicken and potatoes!

Later.

A respite

2011-01-29T11:48:00.003+08:00

It has been a long week. The days are zipping by without so much as a by-your-leave, and I am hard-pressed to keep up. I've been so tired, the words coming out of my mouth or through the keys are sometimes not the words I come up with in my head. I am unaware of how many potentially embarrassing blunders I've unleashed into the Universe. Perhaps my brain is feeling weary and is now making the necessary dissociation from the rest of my body. School has been relentless.

Now on to other things:

I have actually been reading, which bodes well for ailing brain functions. Lately, though, I can only seem to finish Light Books That Make Me Giggle (but not excluding Light-ish Books With Hidden Dark Corners) and not Serious Books That Are Considered Relevant To Our Times. I will let you know when I have become emotionally primed to take on the latter. For now, I will continue to wade in the refreshing pools of pleasant distraction.

TV, as always, has been kind enough to comply with my need for lighter fare. White Collar is back, and what can be more distracting than Matt Bomer in suits? His eyes are like the ocean. Haha. There are new episodes of Chuck too, but I cannot say I'm pleased with where the story is going. I've also been watching Friends a lot, because it shields me from the anxiety that wells up when I think about school things.

The Australian Open is coming to a close, and neither Federer nor Nadal will be playing tomorrow. Roger's was a particularly sour loss, because it was to Djokovic, who has been irritating to me lately. In other news, Nadsy has been modeling underwear for Armani. Good. Lord.

Hanna posted this on my Wall to confound me.

More belated, personal news: my birthday came and went quietly amid the daily blur of work and Being. Jake and I went out for a snack to celebrate.

I also got a bunch of books to show for turning a year older. Lem let me loose in a bookstore, and I made off with quite a haul. Hanna got me a birthday book for readers where I learned Lem shares his birthday with Jane Austen.

I will end here because my stomach is informing me that it is lunch time. Later.

Tales of childhood

2011-01-26T18:11:00.001+08:00

On The Exchange, we celebrate Roald Dahl month! And we are giving away a copy of Boy! The contest details are here. Happy reading!

2011 Reads

2011-01-26T18:05:00.026+08:00

These are the books I have read this year, so far:

The Truth About Forever by Sarah Dessen
Girl Goddess #9 by Francesca Lia Block
Just in Case by Meg Rosoff
NP by Banana Yoshimoto
This Lullaby by Sarah Dessen
One Day by David Nicholls
You Shall Know Our Velocity! by Dave Eggers
Second Hand by Michael Zadoorian
Juliet, Naked by Nick Hornby
The History of Love by Nicole Krauss
Across the Universe by Beth Revis
The Solitude of Prime Numbers by Paolo Giordano
Dramarama by E. Lockhart
On Love by Alain de Botton
Just Listen by Sarah Dessen
Along for the Ride by Sarah Dessen
Starter for Ten by David Nicholls
Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro
You Can Never Find a Rickshaw When it Monsoons by Mo Willems
Naomi and Ely's No Kiss List by Rachel Cohn and David Levithan
13 Little Blue Envelopes by Maureen Johnson
The Last Little Blue Envelope by Maureen Johnson
What Happened to Goodbye? by Sarah Dessen
Amy and Roger's Epic Detour by Morgan Matson
Anna and the French Kiss by Stephanie Perkins
Super Sad True Love Story by Gary Schteyngart
Justice League of America Volume 1: The Tornado's Path by Brad Meltzer and Ed Benes
Noisy Outlaws, Unfriendly Blobs, and Some Other Things That Aren’t as Scary, Maybe, Depending on How You Feel About Lost Lands, Stray Cellphones, Creatures from the Sky, Parents Who Disappear in Peru, a Man Named Lars Farf, and One Other Story We Couldn’t Quite Finish, So Maybe You Could Help Us Out, Edited by Ted Thompson (with Eli Horowitz)
Pretty Monsters by Kelly Link
Daytripper by Gabriel Ba and Fabio Moon
The Penelopiad by Margaret Atwood
Sexing the Cherry by Jeanette Winterson
My Mother She Killed Me, My Father He Ate Me: Forty New Fairy Tales, edited by Kate Bernheimer
Unseen Academicals by Terry Pratchett
Encore Provence by Peter Mayle
No Tomorrow by Vivant Denon
Trese 4: Last Seen After Midnight by Budjette Tan and Kajo Baldisimo
The Heroes of Olympus Book One: The Lost Hero by Rick Riordan
Dash and Lily's Book of Dares by Rachel Cohn and David Levithan
Girl at Sea by Maureen Johnson
Enough About Love by Herve Le Tellier
Fantastic Women: 18 Tales of the Surreal and Sublime from Tin House
A Conspiracy of Kings by Megan Whalen Turner
Let it Snow: Three Holiday Romances by Maureen Johnson, John Green, and Lauren Myracle
Lola and the Boy Next Door by Stephanie Perkins

Read or die 2

2011-01-10T19:50:00.005+08:00

These are Hanna's top ten from her massive reading list for 2010:

And these are unanimous 2010 favorites at The Exchange:

Read or die

2011-01-09T23:13:00.002+08:00

Wrapping up my reading for 2010 over at The Exchange:

So sleepy...but wait!

2011-01-07T22:44:00.005+08:00

On The Exchange, I write a long overdue review for A Dirty Job by Christopher Moore. This book is one of my best reads for 2010, and now an all-time favorite:

"A Dirty Job was my first taste of what would later become an acute addiction to Moore’s work. To say I was impressed is a gross understatement. I basked in the unhinged humor, the zingy back-and-forths between kooky characters, and the thick tangle of a plot. In between all that, Moore manages to make social commentary with his study of the Beta Male and talks about death and reincarnation in a new and interesting light. I was reeling, mystified as to where all this awesomeness had been all my life. So there I was, happily wandering around in this aforementioned blur of awesome, when out of nowhere, I was accosted by hell-hounds and reanimated forest animals and sewer harpies! It was madness. It was magnificent. All this in superb writing."

The year so far

2011-01-06T21:14:00.003+08:00

January has been okay thus far. My return to school was surprisingly uneventful (i.e. the forces of Procrastination did not make an appearance), and everything else is more or less getting on smashingly. But for some mysterious reason, I keep mucking around in the darker corners of my head. I am writing this post to remind myself that THERE IS NOTHING TO BE DEPRESSED ABOUT. And also, lists are fun.

I live in a place with lots of strawberries.
I have a Lemur who loves me.
I have great friends.

I have a large black dog who is always around for spontaneous hugging, and a tall-ish little brother who talks to me about airplanes (and is also around for a hug should he permit it).

I have a bunch of books (understatement) waiting to be read. (Dear Attention Span, I wish you would stop disappearing at inopportune times. I would really like to finish a book.)

I have time to read. A miracle, because I thought my only reading material this month would be evil, ungraded papers.
I bought a smaller bag for my camera...so that I could put it in a bigger bag. Shuddup. It's preeettty.

It's blinkin' cold up here. (We didn't need snow, you idiots.)
I have Assam tea again, thanks to a friend. In October when I ran out (Was it October? It feels longer.), I survived, but barely. My life was in shambles without it.

So. Life is pretty great. I want I want I want to get out of my head.

2010 in photos

2011-01-01T03:36:00.003+08:00

Here are a bunch of photos from a truly nebulous year:

*The last six photos in the final row are borrowed from Inky of inkytakespictures.

As for resolutions, I promise to drink more cups of positivi-tea: let there be good cheer in my cold, black heart all year round.

Happy 2011, Universe!

May you continue to shower us with a slew of interesting, ~~random~~ serendipitous events.

He was the best of us all

2010-12-30T13:03:00.002+08:00

"Rizal could have lived beyond December 30, 1896, if he had stayed out of the Philippines and its politics. If he remained in Hong Kong, then he would just be another forgotten expatriate Filipino doctor. Rizal, however, was different. You could say he had a death wish and this, for me, makes a "conscious hero" doubly brave, because unlike military heroes whose job description contains "death in battle," Rizal was a quiet, peaceful man who willfully and calmly walked to his death for his convictions. Before his execution, his pulse rate was reputedly normal. How many people do you know who would die for their convictions if they could avoid it?"

From the essay "Why Rizal is the National Hero" (1989) by Ambeth R. Ocampo (included in the compilation Rizal Without the Overcoat, 2008 ed.)

Heinous fuckery most foul

2010-12-28T13:58:00.002+08:00

“This is a bawdy tale. Herein you will find gratuitous shagging, murder, spanking, maiming, treason, and heretofore unexplored heights of vulgarity and profanity, as well as non-traditional grammar, split infinitives and the odd wank. If that sort of thing offends you, then gentle reader pass by, for we endeavor only to entertain, not to offend. That said, if that’s the sort of thing you think you might enjoy, then you have happened upon the perfect story!”

On The Exchange, I write a review of Fool by Christopher Moore.

Free book contest!

2010-12-22T21:27:00.003+08:00

Over at The Exchange, we're having our first book giveaway contest. The winner gets this:

From the Mixed-up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler by E.L. Konigsburg is a pleasant, comforting read. The milk and cookies are pretty awesome too, except the courier company may have issues transporting dairy. Nonetheless, the book would be an excellent companion during the holidays. Check out the contest details, and send us a message! Deadline for entries is midnight on Christmas Day. Enjoy!

These are strange days

2010-12-15T10:23:00.000+08:00

"Oh my Eugenia!"

2010-12-02T14:19:00.000+08:00

Two weeks ago, Leonard Co and two members of his team were killed while on field in the forests of Leyte. He was a brilliant botanist and hard core field scientist. Few were as passionate or as genuine. He was very generous, always ready to share from his vast store of knowledge. His death is a crippling loss to science.

An excellent article on Leonard Co by Michael Tan in the Philippine Daily Inquirer:

"The stories were about Leonard the person, much loved and respected. He was famous for his generosity with friends and students; yet he was also known for his simplicity, in particular his trademark Chinese cloth shoes. There was Leonard the entertainer, full of humor and wit and which didn’t exclude poking fun at himself, for example, his “membership” in the Ho Chi Minh Society, together with feigned lamentations about possibly ending up a perpetual bachelor like his idol. Eventually he did marry, and had a daughter, named after the Swedish scientist Linnaeus."

Read the full article here.

JUSTICE FOR LEONARD CO

Woman! Whoooa Man!

2010-12-02T12:15:00.007+08:00

I woke up on Tuesday extremely achy and wanting nothing to do with the outside world. The next day, I went to the school clinic and the doctor told me I had a viral infection in my intestines and/or the rest of my body. She wasn't quite clear where the infection was except that I should rehydrate and watch out for cough and colds. I am home today when I should be in school. I am still woozy, but I think the virus is fleeing for fear of my Gatorade/water/paracetamol regimen. I'm much better, because I've regained control of my mental faculties. Look, I'm writing!

Despite being in the miserable clutches of Virus Last Name Unknown, I had to go out and brave the elements. On Tuesday, while still in denial, I had class and talked about plasma membranes (unaware that my own membranes were under seige...okaaay). Yesterday, I bought my brother a white polo and a tie for his graduation photo. Next year, he will be in high school and will also probably be taller than me.

Adventures at home:
HBO was a great friend to me this past couple of days. I saw So I Married an Axe Murderer again. Mike Myers was genius in this movie. It also takes me back to this one afternoon when I was younger (possibly in grade school). I was home alone, and the movie was also playing also on HBO. Nothing really interesting was happening, except that I was alone and entertained. Before my brother was born, I spent a lot of afternoons alone. I always remember them being quiet and sunny, like it is now.

On HBO, I also saw 8 Mile again. Isn't Eminem adorable in this movie? Although "adorable" is hardly a word to describe Eminem. When the movie was over, I started downloading Eminem songs.

I saw the newest Glee episode. For sectionals, they had Santana do a cover of "Valerie." Then a shocking, but very welcome, surprise: Tina and Mercedes sing "Dog Days are Over" (I still haven't quite gotten over this). And something less shocking (but pleasant nonetheless): "Don't Cry for Me, Argentina" by Kurt and Rachel. Those two do have their moments. Congratulations, I have returned to Gleek-dom.

Not much in books since printed words seem to overwhelm my virus-addled brain. I have picked up the History of Love by Nicole Krauss, though, and am quietly making my way through it. I got distracted from Everything is Illuminated and ended up reading My Most Excellent Year by Steve Kluger. Bless its pure, sweet soul. It tried very hard to pry open my cold, black heart.

I've just about run out of writing mojo. And to stay true to my consistent shameless plugging of The Exchange: please mosey on over there to read my review of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. We wrap up Harry Potter/J.K. Rowling month today, and move on to the next featured author who shall later be named.

Intestine-friendly lunch now. Later.

The Labyrinth

2010-11-21T21:27:00.003+08:00

The Sunday blues are such a drag. Also, I have forgotten how to construct entertaining sentences. This may be a symptom of said ennui. Bear with me as I let my mediocre sentences out into the world so that I might feel productive, and therefore, less belligerent.

Just a couple of things:

I am currently poring over Jonathan Safran Foer's Everything is Illuminated, a book I have been lusting after since reading Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close.

Last night, I saw Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (Part 1) with Lem. I asked very nicely so he would agree to watch with me. Lem is a purist and believes only in the books. He remarked that Daniel Radcliffe was short, and that Rupert Grint provided excellent comic relief. I was already a blubbering mess about two minutes in. It took great effort to pull myself together and actually pay attention. Lem's left sleeve was quite helpful in soaking up tears and snot. I have been feeling very sentimental towards Harry Potter lately. It must be because I've been re-reading the earlier years for a project on The Exchange, and the nostalgia is a doozie.

I am trying very hard to keep drinking cups of positivi-tea. But man, is it tough.

Later.

Tonight I revel in the cold

2010-11-10T22:05:00.000+08:00

School was pleasant today. Freshman Zoology with 21 generally well-behaved students can have extensive calming effects. Also, I graded a bunch of papers and stuck it to Procrastination. We'll see how long such resistance will last.

Something inside me has unwound. I'm less angry at the Universe. Also, I seem to be enjoying my own company again. Perhaps it has something to do with the arrival of the cold. The rain is a little strange, but I take what I can. This is home.

Today's happy thoughts are brought to us by Nicole. She was in Bangkok a few weeks ago, and she thoughtfully sent me a postcard. It magically appeared on my desk this afternoon. It had a photo of a little girl with a painted face, squinting up into the camera. I love getting things in the mail.

The usual suspects

2010-11-05T20:54:00.002+08:00

I spent most of September and October with a red pen in my left hand and a tired scowl on my face. Things have cleared up considerably, though, so here I am.

In books, I am currently working on Wonder Boys by Michael Chabon. I finally found a copy last week while on a trip for a workshop on frogs and expensive lab equipment with which to play with their anatomy. I can't get Michael Douglas' voice out of my head. He is my narrator. I also keep imagining Robert Downey Jr. as Terry Crabtree. Normally, this would be a bad thing, but who wouldn't enjoy Robert Downey Jr.'s face frequently popping into their head?

Also in books, it is currently J.K. Rowling Month on The Exchange. This gives us ample opportunity to obsess about Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (Part 1).

New episodes are out. Supernatural has been giving me a headache, but I hold on for Dean's beautiful eyes. On the other hand, this season's Weekend at Bobby's (episode 4) was a gem. Also, was recently immersed in White Collar. Neal Caffery totally owns: his classic suits and devilish charm have disarmed me. I was desolate when I ran out of episodes.

I've been a little somber the past few weeks. My mind likes to make cocktails of random dark feelings. So as not to completely transform into a black hole, I have compiled a list of things that make me happy:

Lem and his campaign for POSITIVITY(!)
Good friends and the cake they bear
New books/ new old books
A laptop that can type the letters G and H, and also the number 3 (The keyboard on my two-year old Compaq is succumbing to overuse. Obviously I can't manage without an H. The word "the" alone would have to vanish from my vocabulary, and I happen to enjoy this particular article. Currently using Pa's laptop, which he has agreed to part with for a reasonable price.)
A clutter-free desk (I cleaned out my desk at school the other day. I spent hours feeding a paper shredder the spoils of last semester. It was vastly satisfying. Also, this paper will be recycled. So hurrah for the Earth!)
Slow mornings with the family
Dog
The Baguio cold

More happy things soon. Later.

Tomorrow will be a better day

2010-09-06T20:34:00.004+08:00

This weekend, my class and I went on a field trip to Pagudpod, Ilocos Norte where they surveyed a river in the rain. We traveled all of Friday night, and hiked to the site right after breakfast on Saturday. Everyone was tired, but we managed to get some work done. On the Sunday trip home, the students asked the conductor to put on a horror movie. We spent most of the ride up Naguilian Road hungry, tired, and ~~scared~~ entertained.

Today, I tried to sleep off a cough that has been squatting in my throat. It has been making the task of easing into my regular orbit nearly impossible.

On The Exchange, Hanna writes a luminous review for An Abundance of Katherines by John Green:

"It is a charming novel that is genuinely funny and incredibly intelligent. The characters are real, flawed, endearing, and wonderfully three-dimensional. Colin Singleton, the protagonist, does get a bit whiny and annoying. But then there’s Hassan, Colin’s best friend, who always manages to save the day either by cracking a joke or faking an asthma attack."

I get to borrow it from her soon, and I'm very excited.

The fatigue of the trip and my cold have been threatening to pull me into my hole. But the promise of good books, a couple of Frasier episodes, and kind words kept me steady today.

Paracetamol and blankets await. Later.

September in the chair

2010-09-01T09:58:00.003+08:00

Happy Baguio Day!

To celebrate, I give you one of my favorite pieces of trivia about the city:

Bobby Fischer, perhaps the greatest chess player of all time, lived in Baguio from 2000 to 2002. The man was a legend. Possessed with genius far beyond his time, he became the youngest grandmaster at the tender age of 15. In 1972, he beat the Russian grandmaster Boris Spassky and became World Champion. He was to defend his title against Anatoly Karpov in 1975, but refused to play when his proposed conditions for the match were not approved. He retreated from the public eye soon after. He became a recluse and did not play competitively for almost 20 years. In 1992, he re-surfaced for a re-match with Boris Spassky, which he won. In a 2004 Bombo Radyo interview, he referred to Spassky as his " very good frenemy."

He lived a quiet life in Baguio, spending time with his then-partner Marilyn Young and the Filipino grandmaster Eugene Torre. I read in an article that he enjoyed balut and sinigang, and played tennis at Country Club. He appreciated the simple things, content to take relaxing walks in the cool climate and be surrounded by people he loved and trusted. He, like many of us who love Baguio, knew what this city is about.

Books and doing nothing on a Monday

2010-08-30T11:26:00.002+08:00

A free Monday at last. I woke up wantonly late this morning, and intend to do absolutely nothing for the rest of the day.

The third book of The Hunger Games trilogy, Mockingjay, is finally out. I finished reading it yesterday morning, and spent most of Sunday recovering. I wrote a review for it on The Exchange, a writing/reading project Hanna and I have just recently begun. It is a work in progress, but it would be great if you could drop by and give us a little love.

I got myself a couple of great books last night. The Yangco girls just opened Mt. Cloud Bookshop in Casa Vallejo and it is looking brilliant. There were a bunch of great titles, and I bought Shanghai Baby by Wei Hui for only P50. After dinner, Lem and I dropped by SM Booksale where I found Fool by Christopher Moore. I'd been looking around for a while, and was just about to tell Lem how frustrating it was not to find anything when there were so many new books. Then I looked up and spotted Fool on one of the higher shelves. I couldn't reach so I asked the man next to me to please hand it down to me. He kindly obliged, and I had to keep myself from scaring him with peals of excitement. I've only ever bought Christopher Moore's books full price, so I was ecstatic finding one for only P165.

Pa and Jake will be home soon with the groceries, and I should get started with lunch. Later.

The Beautiful Miscellaneous

2010-08-30T10:06:00.000+08:00

Hanna writes a review of Dominic Smith's The Beautiful Miscellaneous:

"For the record, let me just say that I get uncharacteristically attached with the characters in the book that I read and I have a hard time dealing when the time comes for me to let go of them.

This sentiment is especially true after reading The Beautiful Miscellaneous by Dominic Smith. The book is essentially about a seemingly ordinary boy who has been living under the shadow of his father’s genius..."

Continue reading the review on The Exchange.

Kubi reads

2010-08-28T00:31:00.016+08:00

The children's section at Shakespeare Asynove, an English bookstore in Prague.

In the 1995 Sabrina with Julia Ormond, Sabrina tells her father the best reason she loves him is that he took a job as a chauffeur so he could have more time to read. I think I might look nice in a chauffeur's hat.

Here is a list of books I have read this year, so far:

The Eyre Affair by Jasper Fforde
There once lived a woman who tried to kill her neighbor’s baby by Ludmilla Petrushevskaya
A Dirty Job by Christopher Moore
The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie by Alan Bradley
Atonement by Ian McEwan
The Complete Short Fiction of Oscar Wilde
Madeleine is Sleeping by Sarah Shun-Lien Bynum
Kitchen Confidential by Anthony Bourdain
Persuasion by Jane Austen
Lost at Sea by Bryan Lee O’Malley
The Book Thief by Marcus Zusak
Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan
Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Sea of Monsters by Rick Riordan
Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Last Titan by Rick Riordan
Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Battle of the Labyrinth by Rick Riordan
Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Last Olympian by Rick Riordan
Bloodsucking Fiends by Christopher Moore
A Cook’s Tour by Anthony Bourdain
Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson
Aftershock by Kelly Easton
Life History of a Star by Kelly Easton
South of the Border, West of the Sun by Haruki Murakami
From the Mixed-up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler by E.L. Konigsburg
Shopgirl by Steve Martin
French Milk by Lucy Knisley
Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins
Scott Pilgrim’s Finest Hour by Brian Lee O’Malley
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer
Exchange by Paul Magrs
Will Grayson, Will Grayson by John Green and David Levithan
Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins
The View from Saturday by E.L. Konigsburg
Eloise in Moscow by Kay Thompson
An Abundance of Katherines by John Green
Fluke by Christopher Moore
Paper Towns by John Green
Looking for Alaska by John Green
Flipped by Wendelin Van Draanen
Long Way Down by Nick Hornby
The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger
The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky
Watership Down by Richard Adams
My Most Excellent Year by Steve Kluger
The Giver by Lois Lowry
It's Kind of a Funny Story by Ned Vizzini
The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks by E. Lockhart
Fool by Christopher Moore
Fly on the Wall by E. Lockhart
Breakfast at Tiffany's (and Three Stories) by Truman Capote
Wonder Boys by Michael Chabon

This is after

2010-08-27T23:43:00.001+08:00

I cannot imagine what the people on the bus were feeling. I wonder if they were wishing to see loved ones who were far away.

The events of August 23 are so nebulous, I have not fully grasped them. I do know some of our own fucked up in a most spectacular fashion. Rolando Mendoza took fifteen people hostage, got most of them killed and later lost his own life. The PNP was unprepared; the media was intrusive; and the president almost missed the party. The Chinese in Hong Kong are lashing out. Pain does that to people.

The Filipinos are experiencing varying levels of embarrassment. The bungling idiocy of the PNP and the insensitivity of the local media can make anyone cringe. But it is necessary to separate feelings about a series of unfortunate events from feelings about who we are as a people. If we are to redeem ourselves, we must remember that we are worthy to do so. It is not: "I am not embarrassed to be Filipino." It is: "I am proud to be Filipino."

Let's turn off the TV...

2010-08-26T19:01:00.002+08:00

...it's killing us, we never speak.

The photo source here.

The Midnight Organ Fight by Frightened Rabbit is one of my favorite albums ever. I get the feeling that these guys are kind of self-deprecating. And well, I'm a little self-deprecating myself. It's how I roll.

Anyway, songs on the album have been the backdrop to my two-day grading marathon. At school, everyone is just finishing up with their second long exams. I have arrived at my last batch of unchecked blue books. An end is nigh.

It's only 7PM and it feels like I've been awake for two days. Later.

Smoke and mirrors

2010-08-22T06:28:00.002+08:00

An excellent link from my friend Jing: the dying art of pencil-drawn animation celebrates the dying art of stage magic.

Here is the trailer for The Illusionist:

What's in the bag?

2010-08-20T22:58:00.003+08:00

The last bike ride.

I feel the words looming in my head, but they refuse to be bothered with expression. These sentences will probably come out in random bursts. Anyway, here we go:

Lately I have been thinking a lot about Enschede and how peaceful it is there. I think about biking along tree-lined streets in the late afternoon. At top speed, I would sing at the top of my lungs, trusting the wind would drown out my dubious pitch. I miss getting lost, and not being worried about it. Also, I miss my mother. It must be because my life is all over the place these days, so my mind likes to drift off to quieter times.

I went bowling earlier tonight, and wasn't very good. On better days, I like to think I can produce a decent score. I was off my game tonight though (This is if we can call the way I bowl game.). An assessment of my poor performance on the ride home: I may have been (a) half-assing my way through it; (b) over-thinking it; or (c) half-assing my way through it because I was over-thinking. I have been living out my days in a distracted daze. But apparently, I can still rhyme.

I often promise myself to study for my classes a week in advance, but I almost always end up cramming. My already crowded brain can't take much more of this abuse. I also need to check a bunch of reports and problem sets, which I have been cleverly hiding under my desk. My work table looks innocent, but it is actually a menacing secret fortress of ungraded papers.

The upside to all this working is that I have a little extra money. In recent days, this has become necessary because self-therapy often involves spending inordinate amounts of money on either books or junk food. There is a book pile next to my bed that is so tall, I can't see the rest of my room when I'm lying down. The problem is, I never have the time to read. This is such a terrible thing to say. It is one of the most excruciating consequences of work.

Some of the books in the pile are Hanna's. She lent me Will Grayson, Will Grayson by John Green and David Levithan, among other yummy titles. I started reading it last night, and have been enjoying it so far. The tricky part is actually finishing it. At this point, I sigh ruefully.

In TV, Lem has given me old seasons of The West Wing. After a round of episodes, I am normally an emotional wreck. But I am wrecked in a good way.

It is raining tonight, and my bed beckons. Later.

Good Morning Baguio, with Kubi

2010-07-02T07:59:00.000+08:00

A quick note before I attend a seminar about how not to eff up so much in class :)

Rako's wound is healing nicely. Yesterday, it looked like he had an extra lip. This morning when I gave him his breakfast, all I could see was a flaming red line on his cheek. This is relatively satisfactory, because the sight of his teeth through the wound was a little unsettling.

Roger lost to Tommy Berdych on Wednesday. I was so sure of the outcome that I went to bed early. I woke up at 2AM and found two messages from Lem: one at 10:15PM asking if I was still awake and another at 10:50PM containing overtones of sympathy. I knew immediately The Fed's match had gone awry. All of yesterday, I was so convinced that it was my fault he lost. If I had watched the entire match, if I had just stayed up long enough to channel him good mojo, it may have turned out differently. Then I went to Jessica Zafra's blog, and she also blames herself. Haha. I think, perhaps, every Federer fan feels somewhat responsible for the loss.

Later.

Happy Inauguration Day

2010-06-30T17:26:00.003+08:00

Semi-quiet day at home. In the morning I did a bunch of chores, which made me feel productive enough to lie around for two hours around lunch time. I watched a little bit of the newly sworn in president make the customary inauguration speech. I was unmoved. Rako's bravado got him into a bizarre tug-of-war with Ludwig. In this case, the would-be rope was Rako's face. A short, deep wound now runs down his upper lip. To avoid panic among certain readers, I will try not to mention that I think I could see the inside of his mouth through the wound. Lem assures me that dogs are resilient, but I continue to worry. Rako is napping under the study table, mending.

This afternoon, I read a little bit and thought about the rest of the week. Today feels a little bit like a Sunday, which would make tomorrow a Monday. That is a depressing thought. I'm trying not to get carried away by the sudden slump. Popped in an old DVD of the first (and only) season of Kitchen Confidential. Bradley Cooper is amusing when he is neurotic. It's a shame the series ended too soon, but I suppose the exploits of the real thing are entertainment enough. My friend Hanna lent me her copy of A Cook's Tour. I've taken a hungry bite out of the first few chapters, where Bourdain recounts the slaying of a fattened pig in Portugal. He writes:

I learned, for the first time, that I could indeed look my food in the eyes before eating it - and I came away from the experience, I hope, with considerably more respect for what we call "the ingredient." I am more confirmed than ever in my love for pork, pork fat, and cured pork. And I am less likely to waste it. That's something I owe the pig for. I know now what a pork chop costs in terms of the living, breathing thing that was killed to supply it.

At eight o'clock tonight, I plan to watch Roger Federer play Tommy Berdych in the Men's Quarterfinals. Kim Clijsters took out Justine Henin and later fell to the younger Vera Zvonareva. What does it take for a come-back around here? In other Wimbledon news: John McEnroe wonders when they will get to use the new roof on Centre Court and Alan Wilkins makes an appreciative comment about pineapples from the Philippines (Vijay Amritraj informs us that the pineapple on the Wimbledon trophy is some kind of symbol for wealth.)

I've just about used up my break. Cell organelles and osmosis await me. Later.

It isn't tomorrow yet.

2010-06-07T22:32:00.003+08:00

For my return to blogging, I give you...

GELATO!

It is warm tonight, so I am imagining pear-flavored gelato sliding around on my tongue.

I haven't written in a while, and I am as puzzled as you are as to why I'm starting again now. The new school year begins tomorrow, and I have been hired to wreak havoc on impressionable young minds. I should be up to my neck in Zoology books, but here I am blogging. I think this could be the last dregs of my denial.

My quiet life as a patron of the arts (This sounds nicer than penniless bum.) is at an end. I mourn my slow mornings, my stack of unread books and unwatched movies. I mourn my walks with Dog, and the constant battle to entertain myself. I mourn impulsive downloads and random link-clicking and afternoon TV. I mourn curling up on the green couch and relaxing mugs of tea. I mourn free time and series marathons and unplanned naps. I mourn pajamas during the day and successful, experimental lunch recipes. I mourn peace.

Later.

P.S. Roger Federer lost to Robin Soderling in the Quarterfinals of the French Open. I was not as devastated as I should have been. Lem observes that Roger now reacts to losses in a calm, paternal manner. Rafael Nadal inevitably won the final and now believes he can bounce back from his relatively mediocre year. I didn't know The Bicep harbored such confidence issues. Cheers to the new Number One.

Glorious bites

2010-03-28T20:54:00.001+08:00

Pa, Jake, and I are finally in The Netherlands with Ma. We're staying in today and munching on watermelon.

My poor sleeping habits seem to have vanished over the changing latitudes. I've been sleeping a lot, my body trying to get over the jet lag. I read somewhere that afternoon naps can help, but I've been a slave to my eyelids. I fell asleep at eight this morning.

We went for a walk yesterday, and ended up at the open market. It's spring here and the flowers are blooming. People are happy to see color after a season of white landscapes. I took photos of dogs and chocolate and cheese.

The Fed, Captain America, etc.

2010-03-23T22:57:00.000+08:00

Just a few things before I polish off the last of my chores.

On Yahoo! Movietalk, Chris Evans to play "Captain America." I am pleased at the inherent hotness, but dubious about his maturity. Don't get me wrong; I say this with affection. Evans does young insolence well, but I wonder if he can handle the more straight-arrow Steve Rogers.

In the Miami Herald, a wonderful piece on Roger as a father, a champion, and other yummy bites. Thank you, GoToTennis Blog for the brilliant link. Read, as The Fed gushes about his twins. He is a sweet, sweet man.

"But then, we realized having two at the same time would mean they could be best friends forever, and we got excited about it. Now that Myla and Charlene are in our lives, I wouldn't want it any other way..."

"...Having children has had a major impact on me, all good," he said. "Mirka went through the pregnancy so well, and that inspired me. I felt bad that I was just sitting on the sidelines, not able to help much. Once the babies came, I wanted to be part of it. Mirka still does more diaper-changing and waking up, but in the daytime, I hold the babies a lot and spend a lot of time with them."

I haven't been sleeping very well. I float about in the in-between for a while until some distraction snaps me back to consciousness.

Today, a jeepney driver accidentally gave me an old 25-centavo coin. The one with the butterfly on it. Why did we stop using the two-peso coin with ten sides? That was awesome change.

I'm parched. Off to hydrate. Later.

Sanctuary

2010-03-22T10:24:00.000+08:00

If life was a story, the world should be a bookstore.

You can use books to make a stack all the way to the moon.

I could lose myself in all your words.

I would go to the ends of the Earth, to read you.

More photos of The World's Most Interesting Bookstores here.

I like paws

2010-03-18T14:30:00.000+08:00

Zen in your tea cup

2010-03-18T09:32:00.002+08:00

More tea this morning. I'm enjoying a cup before I head out for a bunch of errands. Thinking of making tea and actually making it are just as relaxing as drinking it. I zone out and let my hands take me through the motions. I simmer some water and milk in a saucepan, then pour in my tea leaves. I watch the liquid turn creamy brown and I am at peace. There is quiet satisfaction in the gentle bubbling of hot tea.

Today, the sky is so blue, it's ridiculous.

From the green couch

2010-03-10T15:24:00.002+08:00

Rako regarding me with sleepy disinterest. This is how I would nap if I was a dog.

I'm having tea now and contemplating an unfinished paper. It needs to be written so that my academic life can get back on track. Advisers have turned a watchful eye on me. This is from Under the Tuscan Sun, which has regained its place in the sunny regions of my heart:

Patti: Actually, if you knew Frances better, you'd know that these brownies are a sign of avoidance.
Frances: Thanks.
Male friend: How's the novel going?
Frances: Not so well. But the procrastination, of course, is coming along fabulously. And soon it will breed abject self-loathing...and then, I'll just become a writing machine.
Patti: It's her process.

Shepherd's pie is my brownies. I'm just rounding the curb to abject self-loathing, so I expect that soon, I will be a writing machine.

Been watching old episodes of My Boys. A fourth season is reported to come out this year. Woohoo!

Last week, Jake came down with a fever. On one of the nights he was sick, I couldn't sleep. It was 2AM and the silence was getting oppressive. I was beginning to feel restless. Then, next to me, Jake rasps: "Braaaaiiins..." I look over and he's asleep. After a few seconds, in the same gravelly voice: "Moorssse cooode..." In the dark, my first thought was: My brother is turning into a zombie-spy! (He has since recovered from the potential zombie transformation, which was actually just a garden-variety throat infection.) Antibiotics remind me of Good Omens. In the book, the Apocalypse horseman Pestilence went out of business because of the discovery of penicillin.

A few Sundays ago, Lem and I went out and the moon was orange.

When I think of finally seeing Ma, I feel like I'm about to become myself again.

It's warm in Baguio, and most tourists have gone with the end of Panagbenga. The city is ours again.

Later.

In the half-light

2010-03-04T19:40:00.000+08:00

The English expression “to fall asleep” is apt because the transition between waking and sleeping is a gradual drop from one state of being into another, a giving up of full self-consciousness for unconsciousness or for the altered consciousness of dreams. Except in cases of exhaustion or with the aid of drugs, the movement from one world to another is not instantaneous; it takes a little time. Full waking self-consciousness begins to loosen and unravel.

During this interval, I have often had the illusion that I am walking. I feel my foot slip off a curb and fall, but before I hit the pavement, I feel a jerk and am fully awake again. I also watch brilliant mutating spectacles on my closed eyelids, so-called hypnogogic hallucinations, that usher me into sleep. Sometimes I hear voices speak a single word or a short emphatic sentence.

Siri Hustvedt writes on sleep and insomnia in the New York Times. The piece is for a series called All-Nighters, an exploration of the "ways we approach sleeplessness — as a nuisance, a disease, a curse, an opportunity or even a gift."

Mrs Roger Federer

2010-03-03T08:25:00.000+08:00

Mirka took to her new sport quickly. She was a net charger like Martina, a serve and volleyer, and became Swiss junior champion at 15. She never won a WTA title, spending most of her career fighting through qualifying. But she was a comer on the minor-league ITF circuit for a while, winning three tournaments and at one point posting a 12-match winning streak. Her best result at a major was the third round of the 2001 U.S. Open, where she lost to Justine Henin. A long-running series of foot injuries ended her career not long after that.

By then, she and Federer were fully committed. (And she was still a good enough player to serve as Roger’s hitting partner.) It seems it was Federer who was the aggressor back at the beginning of the relationship. At the Sydney Olympics in 2000, Mirka lost in the first round to Elena Dementieva but didn’t escape the notice of her fellow Swiss team member.

"I couldn't work out why he wanted to talk to me so much," she said, according to a 2009 article in the Belfast Telegraph. "Then, near the end of the Games, he kissed me."

Douglas Perry writes about Mirka Vavrinec on The Oregonian.

Bad artists copy

2010-03-02T22:09:00.006+08:00

Animax has re-scheduled its prime time line-up. Jake and I are severely disappointed. No Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood or Bleach tonight (We-ell, the second part is not so true. We ended up watching Bleach on DVD).

I was trying to get to the bottom of the re-scheduling, so I went to the Animax Asia website. The new schedule is still a mystery to me, but I stumbled on a Jasmine tweet with a link to an article on Bleachness about an American artist Nick Simmons allegedly plagiarizing Tite Kubo's Bleach. The folks at the LiveJournal group have compiled very convincing evidence. Panels from Simmons' comic Incarnate were compared to drawings from the Bleach manga. The similarities are indeed striking (More images on the original Bleachness post):

The tweet also included a link to an article on Comics Worth Reading about Nick Simmons not quite addressing the allegations. This is what he has to say:

“Like most artists I am inspired by work I admire. There are certain similarities between some of my work and the work of others. This was simply meant as an homage to artists I respect, and I definitely want to apologize to any Manga fans or fellow Manga artists who feel I went too far. My inspirations reflect the fact that certain fundamental imagery is common to all Manga. This is the nature of the medium.

“I am a big fan of Bleach, as well as other Manga titles. And I am certainly sorry if anyone was offended or upset by what they perceive to be the similarity between my work and the work of artists that I admire and who inspire me.”

It's incredible how he seems to think he hasn't done anything wrong. My Communications professor would flay him alive. He evades the issue of his copying, and calls it an "homage." The bloody cheek! In another article on Comic Attack, I read that fans have also accused Simmons of taking from other manga like Hellsing and One-Piece, and from an artist on deviantArt.

Radical, the publishers of Incarnate, have suspended publication and distribution of the comic while "making efforts...to contact the publishers of the works in question in an effort to resolve this matter." Meanwhile, through Twitter, Tite Kubo remarks:

"Last night until this morning, I got a ton of "an American comic is copying Bleach!" messages from overseas fans! Looking at the site I don't speak English, but I saw something like "Gene Simmons' son Nick Simmons who draws manga-style comics."

Honestly, more than whether they re[se]mble each other or not, I wonder that Gene Simmons' son is a mangaka..."

Kubo's comments seem to exude a very Zen attitude to the whole thing. Hail, Sensei.

Legally, though, I would like to see Simmons face the allegations head-on. If found guilty, he should be made to answer for his transgressions. Plagiarism is no small crime. It is an act of disrespect to all artists who actually work hard so that their creations are original. It undermines creative integrity. Plagiarism is just being plain lazy. And it's painfully embarrassing when you're caught.

Installation art is the new pine tree (a correction)

2010-03-02T08:08:00.005+08:00

Whoops! A correction. (Sorry everyone, I should have looked before I leaped.) ~~This new installment is in commemoration of the Philippine Commission's first session, which was held in the city on 22 April to 11 June 1904.~~ A large piece of art now occupies what was once the site of the notorious concrete pine tree. The eight structures represent the eight members of the second Philippine Commission whose first session was convened in Baguio City: Governor-General Luke E. Wright, Henry C. Ide, Dean C. Worcester, T. H. Pardo de Tavera, Benito Legarda, Jose R. de Luzuriaga, James F. Smith, and W. Cameron Forbes. It was also during this meeting that Baguio City was declared for use as the Summer Capital. You can actually read about the Philippine Commission on the marker at the entrance of Baden Powell Inn in Governor Pack Road :)

But there's more! This, from SunStar Baguio:

The monument is made of locally quarried stones of different forms representing the people of different races which contributed to the building of today’s Baguio.

The uneven shape and figures of the boulders together with the carved spheres represent Baguio’s construction and reconstruction – its growth from a pastureland to a city, its rise from the devastation of war and it’s rebirth after the killer quake, its continuous growth and development as a unique and sustainable city.

The spheres represent the visions and dreams, the continuous efforts of its citizens to keep Baguio a safe and beautiful place to be.

The complete article here.

It's better than a concrete pine tree, I'll give you that.

Farewell, concrete pine tree. And good riddance.

2010-02-27T10:21:00.004+08:00

Since its construction in 1994, the infamous concrete pine tree of Session Road was the object of our ridicule, disdain, and even, anger. Possibly even more infuriating than the tree was its accompanying sign: "Plant Me and Protect Me." Then mayor Bernardo Vergara claimed that the tree was to encourage the protection of the City's remaining pine trees. Many were skeptical about the old mayor's intentions because, perhaps, of the prominent "V" embossed on the statue's base. Was it truly an act of environmental advocacy, or a bare attempt at political promotion?

Residents clamored for its removal, using every avenue of communication to get through to the City's administration. Letters were sent to City Hall, some even coming from Baguio people already living in other countries. Numerous petitions were filed, circulating through cyberspace via e-mail and signature sites. A friend once sent me a text message about a plot to cover the whole thing in sayote. Among many movements, this was one of the most brilliant.

After years, the people have finally been heard. The concrete pine tree, our bane, has finally been taken down.

When Pa, Jake, and I rode by on a jeep yesterday evening, the area was still covered with plastic sheets. Through a gap, I could see workers toiling away, pushing around large, flat rocks. They would occasionally consult with a group of people issuing directions from the side. I sat near the front of the jeep and could hear the driver and his friends talking about it as we passed. One friend enthusiastically pointed at the work in progress, declaring that a "scrapture" was going to be built there. Sculpture or structure, I am just as excited as this guy. I feel as if a weight has been lifted off the city's proverbial shoulders. We will finally be rid of that concrete abomination.

The current mayor has taken pains to keep the replacement a secret. Apparently, he wants it to be a surprise for the Panagbenga celebration. A real nightmare would be if they put up something even more stupid than a fake tree. Knowing this administration and its less than luminous track record, it is not such a distant possibility.

I don't know if the installment has been unveiled, because I haven't been to town yet today. The streets are packed with people to watch the Panagbenga street dancing parade (The Grand Parade will be tomorrow). Traffic is impossible and going out is a dim likelihood. Nevertheless, until I see the top of Session Road, I rest easy that the concrete pine tree is now a thing of the past.

Kubi refuses to be conquered by dental device

2010-02-25T19:32:00.003+08:00

My dentist gave my braces a good tightening yesterday. So now, my teeth hurt and the pain radiates to the other regions of my cranium. For some strange reason (we can secretly call it over-compensation), I have been compulsively eating all day. I will not be conquered by the persistent agony in my mouth! I! Will! Eat!

Watch out for...

2010-02-23T20:39:00.001+08:00

The full-length trailer for Pixar's Toy Story 3 is out. If I were you, I'd watch out for a familiar forest giant...Pixar is bringing on the Ghibli love! Plus, Ken and Barbie are still at it.

On a lighter note

2010-02-23T18:47:00.004+08:00

Current events are wearing me out.

This morning, I watched Hayao Miyazaki's Kiki's Delivery Service for the first time. It made me so happy. A 13-year old witch-in-training leaves her home to offer magical services in a town by the sea. It has all the charms of a Miyazaki film and provides sensibilities that only a young witch can impart. While in the seaside town, she loses her mojo but regains it by convalescing in a cabin in the woods. The feeling is not unknown to Baguio babies who seek their fortune in far-away cities, but come home to the mountains to recharge.

I'm reading The Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan. The book, first in the Percy Jackson series, is now a film. Lem and I saw it and thought it was okay. Although it's unfair to make comparisons, what I've read so far is much more satisfying. Events are more meaningful and characters are better turned out. I've read favorable reviews for The Lightning Thief and the rest of the series on numerous book blogs; they have yet to be proven otherwise. No disrespect to Edith Hamilton, but I wish this book existed when I was a kid.

Update, 25 February: The Lightning Thief movie had some pretty, major memory gaps. In the book, Percy and his friends have a fearsome opponent who is all but absent in the film. I suppose chunks of the novel were taken out so the storyline would be palatable to a mainstream audience. On the other hand, I'm baffled by the decisions the screenwriters made in editing. I would think the villain was integral to the story...For the Greek mythology nerd, the book is loads of fun. In the film, they fail to mention the name of Percy's sword (and every good sword must have a name). In Ancient Greek, it is called Anaklusmos. In English, it is known as Riptide.

Taking things to heart

2010-02-23T17:54:00.013+08:00

An update: Esperanza Cabral says, I am DOH Secretary! Hear me roar! DOH will continue to implement its condom-distribution program despite harsh criticism from the Catholic church. Cabral has emphasized the need for decisive action in stemming an HIV epidemic in the country.

These days, when people want to say they really really like something, they "heart" it (i.e. "I ♥ my new shoes!" or "I ♥ your earrings!" or even, "I ♥ you" :D). There are several theories on how the heart shape became the two-dimensional representation for love. One, in particular, associates the symbol with the seed of the Silphium plant. The seeds of this ancient, now-extinct plant were used commonly as a spice, but were also popular as a contraceptive. These seeds were easily distinguished by their shape: two rounded peaks tapering into a point. This figure, which we now recognize as the heart, ironically became the symbol for love in its many forms and varied degrees.

Perhaps not meaning to be quite so literal, the Department of Health distributed condoms during this year's Valentine's Day. The distribution program was dubbed as an action to curb the spread of HIV and "not (for) family planning." Still, use of this contraceptive can result in the prevention of unplanned pregnancies. This, not its efficacy in thwarting sexually-transmitted diseases, is a more well-known feature. Nonetheless, the campaign is a step to make reproductive health accessible. The program has so enraged the Catholic church that bishops have called for the removal of Health Secretary Esperanza Cabral:

Lipa Archbishop Ramon Arguelles said a leader like Cabral should not be heading a vital government agency, since her condom-distribution program could endanger the people’s morals...

...“It is immoral for a government official to support the distribution of condoms which we know do not really reduce or stop the spread of HIV-AIDS,” Arguelles said in an interview over Church-run Radio Veritas.

This is how forward-thinking leaders are treated.

Meanwhile, brazen disregard for human rights is lauded:

MANILA, Philippines – Two army officers that led the arrest of 43 alleged New People’s Army (NPA) rebels in Morong, Rizal were given awards on Tuesday by the Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP).

Colonel Aurelio Baladad, commander of the 202^nd Infantry Brigade and Lt. Colonel Jaime Abawag, commander of the 16^th Infantry Battalion were awarded the Bronze Cross Medal during the 23^rd anniversary of the Southern Luzon Command (Solcom).

Mahirap na

2010-02-18T19:36:00.005+08:00

Photo from Bulatlat

Mahirap na talaga.

The AFP arrested 43 community health workers in Morong, Rizal on February 6, 2010. Earlier ~~lies~~ allegations didn't fly, so the AFP claims that these individuals work for the health bureau of the National People's Army. I suppose they realized how ridiculous "bomb-maker" sounded as a charge for arresting health volunteers. As Rilo Kiley eloquently puts it, "Any fool can play executioner for a day, and say with fingers pointed in both directions, 'He went that-a-way."

These men and women devoted their time and energy to extend health services to the community and the thanks they get is to be arrested and needlessly tortured on unsound charges. They were detained, blindfolded, and deprived even of the most basic human rights. When they needed to relieve themselves, someone accompanied them to the bathroom and pulled down their underwear for them.

Mahirap na talaga.

Sexual harassment and torture charges have been asserted against the AFP division that arrested the 43 health workers. The president, a supposed champion of women's rights, needs to be told to look into the issue. What sort of security can we expect from a system and its denizens who cannot keep their own dogs in check? Think: an armed unit that believes it is answerable to no one. What is more frightening than that?

Mahirap na talaga.

Community health workers do not expect, nor receive, substantial compensation when they go off into the remotest areas of the country to provide basic medical services. They volunteer with the express intention of helping people who are in need. They give assistance, regardless of political affiliation. They risk their own well-being to answer a call that comes from a deep sense of duty and contribution. There are all sorts of dangers on the field, but who could have ever imagined that those sworn to serve and protect would be the most treacherous?

FREE THE MORONG 43!

Today on KubiTV 2

2010-02-16T14:02:00.006+08:00

I ran a few errands in town today, a couple of which required me to make the climb to SM.

An update on the SM Bills Payment Center: They now accept payments for the Baguio Water District (BAWADI). A fine development for us bill-paying mortals. The SM Bills Payment Center bills a P5 surcharge each for BAWADI and BENECO payments.

The ladies at CD-R King request makers of character guises to wait their turn. They are best dealt with one at a time. I understand it can be overwhelming. People with other occupations should also fall in line, just in case.

Photo taken discreetly with my cellphone camera.

At Booksale, The Children of Húrin by J.R.R. Tolkien is for sale for P180. It is a sad, haunting book. You can find it on the trade paperback shelf on the right when you enter.

On the hardbound shelf next to it sits The Adventures of Robin Hood by Paul Creswick for P170. The book is in good condition and has wonderful illustrations by a student of Howard Pyle. There are also about five copies of the movie tie-in edition to Douglas Adams' Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, also going for about P170 apiece. All these, yours for the taking!

Later. Off to cook pork chop and watch flashy musical starring Daniel Day-Lewis, Nicole Kidman, Penelope Cruz, and Fergie.

Mourning the RH Bill

2010-02-10T18:50:00.009+08:00

For years, the Philippines relied on foreign aid for free contraception in barangay health centers. About two years ago, that outside assistance was phased out in an attempt to force the government to grow some balls. While the Reproductive Health Bill had its flaws, it certainly would have been a suitable starting point for changes in current population policies.

Now, the Reproductive Health Bill is dead. I suppose it would be moot for me to be writing about it now, but the issue hasn’t disappeared just because the legislation has perished.

On Filipino Voices, Nick laments the death of the bill and is dismayed that cowardice has taken precedence over political will. He writes:

The solution for many of these politicians is to do nothing, because of the “morality” issue. Because it is not government’s role to dictate. And yet, they acknowledge all too well that population is indeed a problem, and will still pursue a policy of doing nothing. It’s hypocrisy, and each and every candidate that opposes or has contributed to the death of this bill is indeed rife for attack when it comes to this all too important issue.

In an article on "Why Gibo Teodoro changed his mind on (the) RH bill," Rochelle Sy Chua writes:

Gibo believes that our moral guardians must be responsible for reproductive health because it is a question of morality and a personal choice. However he thinks that moral guardians must be responsible and accountable for our population management.

Gibo Teodoro has this belief that a government's role in reproductive health is to support a couple's moral choice (not influence it). Gibo Teodoro chose to withdraw his support for the bill because he thinks that we are not dealing with the problem but we get involved only in a debate that nobody wins.

However, I think Gibo Teodoro forgets that the Church-- our moral guardians have already been in charge of our reproductive health for centuries since we have been a Catholic and very religious Country for that long. That's why we have a population problem because our moral guardians have failed. Isn't that why we are debating reproductive health today because our population problem is already an issue? So, why should we give them a chance when they have already failed?

I agree with both writers.

Because they lacked courage, Gibo and the others chose to free themselves from dealing with a sensitive, but essential, issue. These so-called leaders call reproductive health a "moral" concern and delegate its resolution to "moral guardians." Who are these moral guardians they speak of? In turning their backs on a moral issue, these politicians forfeit their own capacity to rouse and instill moral values in the people they wish to lead. Who then do we look to as our moral compass if not our leaders?

Many surmise that politicians tread carefully around the issue because they fear the influence of the Church. Backing reproductive health leads to serious ramifications like, perhaps, the loss of support. This would spell political suicide, especially so close to the May elections. It is an age-old anomaly, this involvement of the Church in state affairs. Mentioning it feels redundant because it has always been characteristic of this intensely religious country.

Lodged firmly in the national psyche is the Church’s deliberate stand against the RH bill. However, despite the religious origins, it is still just a way of thinking. Thought can be influenced by education. For a reproductive health bill to stand a chance in this country, something no less than a paradigm shift in national consciousness may be necessary. Maybe we’re getting ahead of ourselves, but we must believe that it can happen.

Reproductive health is so much more than population control. It promotes safe motherhood, providing women with necessary medical options to safeguard their health. It allows individuals to choose if and when to have a child, lessening the number of unwanted pregnancies. Reproductive health seeks to prevent abortion and the fatalities resulting from it. It encourages an environment where children can be raised to healthy adulthood with choices and adequate resources. It educates and prepares young people, offering security against sexually-transmitted diseases. Reproductive health aims, overall, to enhance human well-being.

On the other hand, population control seems to have been perceived as the end-all for the RH Bill. Ultimately, it is the outcome that the bill's supporters hope for. The Philippine population, large as it already is, steadily expands at an annual rate of 2.16%. Overpopulation leads to over exploitation, and inevitable loss, of natural resources. Many Filipinos live in rural areas and rely specifically on these finite resources. They are also unequipped and uninformed: their families continue to grow, producing more mouths to feed. The level of awareness is equally low in a substantial portion of the urban population. These people also live in challenging circumstances and struggle through the same, impoverished conditions.

The need for a reproductive health bill is a moral issue, but it is also an economic issue and a governance issue and, therefore, a political issue. Those-who-would-be-President promise to lift the Filipinos out of poverty and improve their quality of life. Passing an RH Bill, or at least putting it to vote, should have been the first step to do it.

So, what shall we do, now that the RH Bill is dead? For now, the fight falls to the individual. For now, personal choices and our own understanding will be our contribution and testament to this policy. We are to be the advocates of a bill that is not truly dead, one that will hopefully find its way back to a more enlightened Congress. For now, the people must speak in place of a leadership that has chosen to be mute in the face of adversity.

Quality distraction: anime

2010-02-09T20:41:00.003+08:00

The weekly prime time line-up on Animax is delightfully distracting. The fun starts at 6:30PM with re-runs of Rurouni Kenshin, which never gets old. The classic is followed by a soon-to-be-classic, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, at 7PM. To round off the weekly routine at 7:30PM is the English-dubbed Bleach. This schedule airs Mondays thru Fridays.

When I was at my densest anime phase, people simply called the "seasons," story arcs. The episodes of Rurouni Kenshin now airing are still in the earliest arc where the characters are only just coming together. I missed it today but I figure it's just around the time Kenshin and Sanosuke meet for the first time (My chest tightens at the thought). The series truly hits its stride when it reaches the Shishio arc. The storytelling is superb, the quality of the animation excellent. The fight scenes were kicking ass way before Naruto was wiping the floor with Orochimaru.

The Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood episodes airing at 7PM are dubbed in English. As I understand it, the new, original Japanese episodes air Fridays at 8PM. Apart obviously from its intriguing premise, I have always been drawn to the show for the characters' names. Edward and Alphonse Elric (I've always had a soft spot for "Elric" to start with). Fullmetal. Strong Arm! Mustang! Hawkeye! Ross! Maes Hughes! Very cool.

Lem and I were watching Bleach long before everyone else caught on. We knew it was special right off the bat. We watched it on DVD and in the original Japanese. It is, however, interesting to watch the English dub. One never tires of brilliant writing and can enjoy it in any medium. And that is precisely what I've been appreciating the past few days as the show is beginning to get juicy. The arc currently airing is when Ichigo first enters Soul Society to rescue Rukia from imminent execution. (This is a poor summary, because the plot at this point is intense and elaborate.) Aizen has just died and the rest of the captains are starting to show off their *ominous music plays* power. The episodes are familiar and vastly comforting.

Every generation of school-going youths who feel burdened by the monotony of going to the same classes week after week has a prime-time schedule like this. When I was in high school, I escaped to Ghost Fighter, Flame of Recca (Tagalized on GMA 7, but Yuu Yuu Hakusho and Rekka no Honou to the purists), and Samurai X (Yes, Kenshin was with me even then). Here's to quality distraction.

Writers

2010-02-08T10:07:00.004+08:00

(This photo from The L-Space Web: A Terry Pratchett/ Discworld Web Site. Thanks!

Try to ignore the barcode; it's a great photo :D)

This is from an essay Neil Gaiman wrote about Terry Pratchett:

"Working with Terry I felt like a journeyman working alongside a master-craftsman in some medieval guild. He constructs novels like guildmaster might build a cathedral arch. There is art, of course, but that's the result of building it well. What there is more of is the pleasure taken in constructing something that does what it's meant to do – to make people read the story, and laugh, and possibly even think...

...Satire is a word that is often used to mean that there aren't any people in the fiction, and for that reason I'm uncomfortable calling Terry a satirist. What he is, is A Writer, and there are few enough of those around."

The rest of the piece, which is entitled Terry Pratchett: An Appreciation, is here.

The two wrote Good Omens, one of my favorite books in the world.

(This photo from Neil's website.)

Terry also wrote the fantastic foreword to a tribute book to Neil called Prince of Stories: The Many Worlds of Neil Gaiman. The book has been liberated from its plastic protection at National Bookstore in SM so I managed to read the foreword one afternoon while perusing the shelves. I didn't read the book itself so I can't urge you to buy it. I can, however, confidently recommend that foreword. I've been wanting to share it for a while now, but can't seem to find a link to it online. So, if you're in a bookstore that carries Prince of Stories, take a few minutes to read the foreword.

He kindly stopped for me

2010-02-08T09:23:00.005+08:00

Yesterday, Nicco told me about a news story on Terry Pratchett volunteering to be a test case for assisted suicide tribunals. The beloved author was diagnosed with a rare form of Alzheimer's in 2007. Our friend Abbey posted a link to the article on Facebook.

Sir Terry Pratchett says he is ready to be a test case for assisted suicide "tribunals" which could give people legal permission to end their lives.

The author, who has Alzheimer's, says he wants a tribunal set up to help those with incurable diseases end their lives with help from doctors.

A poll for BBC One's Panorama suggests most people support assisted suicide for someone who is terminally ill.

Sir Terry set out his ideas in Monday's annual Richard Dimbleby lecture.

Read the rest of the article here.

The creator of Discworld and author of numerous, wonderful books is waving hello to his oldest friend, Death.

My heart hurts.

Blogging as cold medicine

2010-02-06T19:58:00.003+08:00

Sick today and trying very hard not to feel sorry for myself. Tried reading but the words just sort of swarm around in front of my eyes. I don't want to sleep anymore because the fever dreams have been extremely vivid and disturbing.

Been catching up on movies lately. I saw An Education and loved it. Carey Mulligan was charming as Jenny, an impressionable 16-year old who has a relationship with an older man played by Peter Sarsgaard. There is something slightly twisted about that guy. As the movie progresses, you notice subtle changes in Jenny as she learns more about people and the world. Near the end, she says: "I feel very old, but not very wise," which is how most of us feel sometimes.

This morning when my brain was less fuzzy, I saw Jason Reitman's Up in the Air and now support George Clooney's Oscar bid for Best Actor. When the movie starts, we see a man who lives a fast-paced life, flying from one state to the next. He is a loyal patron of the airline terminal, feeling more at home here than he is in his one-bedroom apartment. To him, the thought of settling down is unappealing, even laughable. His philosophy is to carry the metaphorical empty backpack, to go through life untethered by the weight of relationships. And the thing is, he doesn't come off as a soulless prick. We like this guy regardless, even, of his job. George Clooney makes us feel for him. That is good acting.

Anna Kendrick has come a long way from her small supporting role in the Twilight movies. In Up in the Air, she plays a fresh Cornell graduate, an overachiever who is excited about her new job. George must show her the ropes, and the two have wonderful chemistry. Jason Bateman was an especially nice piece of casting.

Feel slightly better, but I think I'll go lie down now. Will try my luck with a book again, or brave my dreams. Later.

This is what's been going on with me:

2010-02-04T11:26:00.005+08:00

On Sunday, Roger Federer defeated Great Britain's Andy Murray in straight sets 6-3 6-4 7-6(13-11) to win his 16th grand slam. Murray stepped it up in the third set and started pounding winners on the lines. Federer responded with solid service games and his own sharp angled balls. I may have choked a poor pillow to death while watching that third-set tiebreaker.

(Source)

On Monday, Jake and I traveled home to Baguio from Manila while Pa went back to Ifugao for work. A seven-hour time difference separates us from our mother. Everyone likes to talk about how awesome it is to travel. And it is. I've never felt more in tune with myself than when I am on a bus or some other form of long distance transportation. There is boundless joy in the smell of a new place, the freedom of anonymity, and the kindness of strangers.

On the other hand, there is rarely ever any mention of the missing and the being without.

I feel as if I'm in one of those pivotal life moments where I'm supposed to make a decision.

Dog and his person go for a walk

2010-01-28T17:54:00.004+08:00

Sometime after the doormat debacle, Rako and Ludwig got into a couple of bloody battles. Rako went Mike Tyson on Ludwig's ass: the shepherd's ear was badly ripped and now droops at a defeated ninety-degree angle to his head. In those last fights, Rako had the upper hand, his youth and size finally coming into the fore. On the other hand, everyone at home has been worried about the older dog whose brown fur is still stained with blood. The violence has been upsetting, especially to the younger residents.

An uneasy truce (more like an enforced stalemate) currently exists between the warring factions. A gate has been installed at the entrance of the backyard, effectively barring the dogs from one another. Father and son on one side, the lab on the other.

Confined to the front yard, Rako has been getting loud and restless. His attitude towards the other two dogs has been confrontational, because he feels that ascension is nigh. Of course, Ludwig will have none of it and is equally fierce. Jamfong has been wise to sit out the major scuffles, but continues to engage in trash talk.

Rako and I hadn't gone for a walk since December and it was obvious he needed it. Legs of the weary and unaware have fallen to his manic humping. It can be terrifying to have a hulking mass of black fur getting the freaky on with your right leg.

So today, to take a break from all the fighting and humping, Rako and I went for a walk.

We walked up to Bayan Park in Aurora Hill and took photos of the trees and the grass and the backside of a concrete elephant.

It was early morning so there were joggers and kids still on their way to school. Other people were also out with their dogs; some of them carried their wards up and down the walkway.

I like to think some of Rako's pent-up energy is back in the Universe. He spent most of the day napping.

If I shut my eyes really tight...

2010-01-26T22:43:00.002+08:00

(Source: Hideaway from Yeahyoureright by Nicolas Arnold. Thanks!)

...I would end up here.

I could spend the rest of my days in this room. I love books. I love piles of books. And I love pillows. Beds are not so bad either. This could work.

Or you can use a banjo

2010-01-26T22:26:00.000+08:00

"When using a blunt weapon, the goal is to crush the brain (remember, the only way to kill a zombie is by destroying its brain). This is not as easy as it sounds. The human skull is one of the hardest, most durable surfaces in nature. So, of course, is the zombie's. Extreme force is needed to fracture, let alone shatter it. However, this must be done, and done with a single, well-placed blow. Missing your target or failing to breach the bone will leave you with no second chance.

...A section of lead pipe will work for a single encounter but is too heavy for those on the move. A sledgehammer has the same drawback and also requires practice for its user to hit a moving target. Aluminum bats are light enough to work for one, maybe two fights, but are known to bend after prolonged use..."

(From pages 31-32 of The Zombie Survival Guide: Complete Protection from the Living Dead by Max Brooks)

Scarlett Sings

2010-01-22T11:56:00.006+08:00

One of the sexiest things about Scarlett Johansson is her voice. And that's saying something, considering everything about the woman is scorching. Here she is with Pete Yorn, singing "Relator," a track off their new album Break Up.

Inspired by the duet style of Serge Gainsbourg and Brigitte Bardot, "Yorn and Johansson reenact the tempestuous course of a love affair on the rocks in captivating detail." (From a description of the recordings.)

Also: Pete and Scarlett talk about their stirring record on New York Magazine.

A Very Rockstar Engagement

2010-01-21T22:46:00.002+08:00

Neil Gaiman announces his engagement to Dresden Dolls vocalist Amanda Palmer. What a pair they make.

It's all good

2010-01-21T20:39:00.014+08:00

Another birthday has come and gone, and I'm a little bit closer to being a quarter of a century old. I learned, rather painfully, to be more appreciative of the people who truly care for me. Keep your best friends close, your family closer. They will make everyday special for you.

I will also take this opportunity to show off the birthday loot. I sense it will be a good year in words:

I am so far loving A Dirty Job by Christopher Moore. The man is hilarious, positively irreverent. You can read his entertaining blog here and his expositions on the Beta Male here. (This is his old blog URL.) The Beta Male Manifesto comes in three parts, and each is incredibly...accurate. Haha.

Here is T-rex taking a chunk out of Totoro's face. Gentle giant meets Jurassic carnivore. You will notice the hilt of a light saber in the background. This is life with a 10-year old boy:

Yesterday, in the jeep on my way home from taking Jake to school (wow, look at all those prepositions), I sat next to a girl reading The Hunger Games. I peeked discreetly over her shoulder and it was the night just before Katniss enters the arena. Oh this girl is in for a treat.

The Australian Open is in full swing. I watched my first match last Tuesday and it couldn't have come at a better time. The opening round match, which was between Roger Federer and Igor Andreev, had an inevitable end, but it was exciting nonetheless. Federer was working out the kinks in his form, poising himself for a long two-week challenge. Unforced errors flew off his racket, shanks left and right. Andreev won the first set and I panicked a little. If you are a Federer fan, I'm sure you understand. Come to think of it, every Federer fan I know has just a hint, if not an abundance, of neurosis. We dwell on the Past and try to predict the Future. And we certainly love greatness. Roger won the match 4-6 6-2 7-6 6-0. I like to think the last bagel was the Champion making a statement. (He played another match earlier this evening against Victor Hanescu. I'd fallen asleep, but it appears to have been a routine thrashing: Federer def. Hanescu 6-2 6-3 6-2. Schedule of Play here.)

Tennis royalty hobnobbing with, er, royalty royalty.

Good TV has also returned to me. Chuck, finally, is back on air. When the second season ended, a third was believed to be non-existent. Because fans clamored for its return, NBC caved and brought it back. Even better news is that the show has been renewed for a full 19-episode season.Woohoo! Episode 4 just aired last Monday. It's been a sweet return thus far.

How I Met Your Mother and The Big Bang Theory have also re-entered my entertainment circuit. And Nicole has just informed me that Leverage has a new episode out. So really, I haven't been particularly busy. Just well-entertained.

Let's take stock. I have a bunch of new books and wonderful people who love me (and whom I love back). My tennis life is resurrected with a grand slam and Roger Federer in good form. And there is riveting TV to numb my optic nerves. I have to admit, this is not a bad way to start my year.

Portrait of an artist as a child

2010-01-13T20:04:00.007+08:00

Roger Federer (right) as a young boy. (Photo source. Thanks!)

The Australian Open starts 18 January 2010. So it begins again.

Erratum

2010-01-12T14:57:00.006+08:00

In my previous post , I accidentally wrote "Edna" instead of "Betty" in the sentence, "...Councilor Betty Tabanda asks the enraged public to be reasonable." I've already edited and replaced the post, but the error still appears on some feeds. Kindly take note of the correction. I apologize to Ms. Edna Tabanda for the oversight.

Save Baguio Athletic Bowl 2 (Also, #100)

2010-01-12T14:16:00.002+08:00

UPDATE: The Facebook group previously known as "save baguio athletic bowl from the koreans" has been re-named "save the burnham park movement." Its new mission here. Now for some very good news: Resolution 515, which allowed the mayor to enter into a Memorandum of Agreement with the Korean investors, has just been re-called. Kudos.

Today, concerned Baguio citizens came together at the Baguio Athletic Bowl to show their support against its privatization.

Just a couple of updates:

Councilor Pinky Rondez made a privilege speech at the City Council yesterday, expressing her own protests against the lease and proposed development plan. When the council met to sign the MOA on 21 December 2009, she was absent. She is currently at the helm of the Burnham Park Development.

An outpouring of indignation from the online community has shaken the MOA's undersigned. Many of the councilors who previously supported the deal are now withdrawing their signatures. Like rats deserting a sinking ship. On the other hand, Mr. Peter Rey Bautista continues to stand by his actions, deliberately dismissing the online protests. In the SunStar today, Councilor Betty Tabanda asks the enraged public to be reasonable. Well, where was reason when the council by-passed transparency and excluded the public to rush the MOA?

Another Facebook group, Petition Against Baguio Athletic Bowl MOA, has been put up. It's true, Koreans are looking to develop a historic piece of public land, but the anger towards them is a little misplaced. The first group, which implored us to "save baguio athletic bowl ~~from the koreans~~," was the initial emotional outburst from people who love this City. It has been instrumental in getting the issue out online, as well as bringing people together for a demonstration of support. Now, we must set our sights on the real offenders. Current and previous administrations have made it easy for the Koreans to take Baguio piece by piece. The local government let these people have their way, with no thought to consequence. There simply was no sense of duty, or interest, to protect the City and its residents. These so-called leaders would have us feel like strangers in our own home. They sold us out.

SAVE BAGUIO ATHLETIC BOWL

Sherlock Holmes and the Na'vi go to a party

2010-01-10T20:33:00.010+08:00

Great weekend in movies. Lem and I saw Sherlock Holmes on Friday, and followed it up with Avatar on Saturday.

FRIDAY

When one hears that Robert Downey Jr is playing Sherlock Holmes, you don't ask questions. As soon as it's showing, drop what you're doing and go see it. Downey has the charm and humor to bring this brilliant eccentric to life. When the movie opens, Holmes is being chased down the dark streets of London. Backed into a corner, he calculates the series of blows necessary to incapacitate his pursuer. Later, he is in a boxing ring and his adversary spits on the back of his head. Again, his mind estimates the required combination to win. These computations take only a moment. On both occasions, the enemy hits the floor, shattered bones and all. Holmes has already determined the damage sustained by his opponent's body...and pride. Ass-kicking has become an intellectual exercise.

At first, Jude Law as Dr. John Watson seemed like a far stretch. But it worked. The chemistry between the two old friends was endearing. (Watch: Holmes and Watson sitting side by side on a rickety bed, post-explosion, and trying very hard not to hug.) Kelly Reilly's turn as Mary Morstan, Watson's fiancé, was a pleasant surprise. She barely got any face time in the stories, so it was great to see her portrayed as a strong woman, unimpressed by Holmes's guile. Rachel McAdams is wonderful as the criminally sexy (ha-ha) Irene Adler.

The plot itself lacked cleverness, failing to evoke the why-didn't-I think-of-that knock on the forehead. On the other hand, Holmes's appraisal of people did demonstrate those brilliant deductive skills. The film was obviously a prelude to a greater story, one where we will eventually encounter the arch-nemesis, Professor Moriarty. We will wait for that one with bated breath. The game is afoot.

SATURDAY

Lem and I finally saw Avatar. We caught the late afternoon show, a schedule apparently favored by the general public. Lem sipped sullenly from a vanilla frostee, glaring at the long queue in front of him. Despite all those people, we managed to get good seats. Wearing over-sized 3D glasses, we braced ourselves for a movie that has been hyped to the high heavens. For once, the hype did not exaggerate.

The story is set in 2154, a time when humans have plundered so much of the earth that no green remains. Having completely exhausted the natural resources on their own planet, the humans launch an off-world mining project on the moon Pandora. RDA, the corporation responsible for operations, treads carefully because Pandora is inhabited by sentient humanoid beings called the Na'vi. Jake Sully, played by Sam Worthington, is a young marine who joins the company's Avatar division. Human researchers neurally link to genetically-engineered Na'vi bodies to gather information about the world and its people. Their ulterior task is to forge diplomatic relations with the indigenous community. The group is led by a no-shit, ball-breaking scientist Grace Augustine (portrayed to a T by the great Sigourney Weaver). She often clashes with corporate head slug Parker Selfridge whose depravity was crafted so perfectly by Giovanni Ribisi.

The plot is, by no means, anything new. In fact, it is a story not unusual in the Philippines. Indigenous peoples displaced by outsiders exploiting their land for commercial gain? Sound vaguely familiar? Ma, who knows a little something about natural resource management, remarked about the movie's parallels with ancestral land issues in the Cordillera. (She saw the movie in the Netherlands, and had to manage with Dutch subtitles for the Na'vi translations.) Avatar may have fallen into step with previous movies of the same theme, but it is a theme that hits close to home. A lack of empathy can be deadly.

In a very Tolkien-esque move, James Cameron creates a strange, untamed world where its inhabitants can literally commune with Nature. The plants glow in the dark and the animals are fierce and lethal. (Lem has declared that we must procure him a Banshee.) Cameron was thorough. The Na'vi, an entirely imagined race, have their own language and culture. They are a people who have preserved an intense connection with their environment, a quality steadily disappearing among human beings.

In one pivotal scene, the music turns ominous and Lem comments, "This is where the Titanic sinks." It's true: Cameron is dangerously becoming formulaic, and therefore predictable. But he makes up for it with stunning visuals and heavy action sequences. Images overwhelm the senses. With revolutionary film-making technology burning at his fingertips, Cameron meant to ASTONISH. He certainly did.

In a nutshell: Avatar was fucken awesome.

Save Baguio Athletic Bowl

2010-01-06T20:39:00.003+08:00

When I was young, my father took me to Baguio Athletic Bowl to go jogging. I would make my way around the huge ring, vowing to complete at least two and a half laps. My ten-year old legs would not fail. A few years later, I would sit in the bleachers, cheering with 200 of my City High batch mates. Dressed and painted in bright colors seen even from the far end of the field, we shouted battle cries. The silent drill, in particular, required intense concentration. We clapped our hands and stomped our feet in perfect unison, forming elaborate patterns that would have looked impressive had anyone been watching from the sky.

Over at Baguio Insider, Lisa writes that the mayor and city council have approved a 25-year lease of the Athletic Bowl to a Korean company. The Koreans will pay P100,000 a month for twenty-five (25) years with a 10% increase after five (5) years. The deal was brokered within a short period of ten days, the city council neglecting to call a public hearing for such a ~~bogus~~ major proposal. Mayor Peter Rey Bautista signed the Memorandum of Agreement on December 11, 2009 and the council confirmed it on December 21. Easy money.

As part of their development plan, the ~~shady~~ Koreans propose to build a hotel and driving range (god, more golf) in the area they've supposedly leased. The mayor and a majority of the city council have allowed a group of people who do not know or love Baguio to ruin an outdoor recreation area that has been around for nearly a hundred years. Once again, they have betrayed Baguio and its people for a fat sum. They pimped out a landmark for campaign money, or whatever it is they got.

Athletic Bowl has seen better days, but its current state of disrepair is just another reflection of bad governance. Nevertheless, it is still a public park, which city officials cannot just rent out to the highest bidder. I hope May will be an opportunity to begin rectifying the damage from a string of poor administrations.

A Facebook page has been created to "save the baguio athletic bowl from the koreans."

For the dolphins

2010-01-06T17:25:00.006+08:00

Director Louie Psihoyos and an intrepid team of environmental activists risk incarceration, and more, to expose the annual slaughter of 23,000 dolphins and porpoises in Taiji, Japan. The Cove is the most riveting film you will watch from 2009.

The small Japanese town, Taiji, is a major provider of captive dolphins in the world today. Small whales, particularly the bottlenose dolphin, are captured alive and sold to various ocean parks and aquariums. There is a heated, long-standing debate on keeping dolphins in captivity for science and recreation. One faction considers it a justified sacrifice for research, arguing that such close study will yield valuable scientific data. In contrast, the group on the other end of the argument believe that the practice is inhumane and deleterious to wild populations. To the fishermen of Taiji, the captive dolphin trade is a lucrative undertaking. A dolphin alive fetches a larger profit than when it is marketed as meat.

However, the exploitation does not end there - far from it. In a hidden cove, known now as the killing lagoon, fishermen proceed to slaughter the thousands of remaining dolphins. There is no distinction: calf and adult alike are stabbed with long spears and then hauled with hooks unto waiting boats. The dolphins do not die instantly. For several minutes, they thrash painfully in the water and bleed freely from their wounds. They futilely look for an escape, suffering until the very end. The water literally runs red with blood.

For more than a decade, Japan has been proposing to abolish the international ban on whaling.

The Cove has been hailed as a thriller; a chronicle of the fearless efforts of a group of conservation warriors. But more than that, it is a piece of powerful advocacy. It is informative, discussing essential issues in cetacean conservation. For instance, it corrects the misconception that dolphins are pests to be culled in order to preserve fish stocks. An excessively large human population, not the subsistence feeding of cetaceans, is responsible for the alarming decline in fisheries. The film also provides a new fold in Japan's rejection of international whaling policies. Apparently, it is a subversive act: a people refusing to be subjugated by Western culture. The preservation of a national identity is necessary, but I seriously doubt that driving another species to extinction is the way to do it.

The Philippines itself is a hotspot for whales and dolphins. Our waters are home to twenty-four confirmed species, including the beautiful humpback whale and the acrobatic spinner dolphin. Locally, the primary threat to small cetaceans is incidental mortality. They drown, entangled as by-catch, in long lines and fine mesh nets used for fishing. The impact of these deaths on wild populations is still vague, but it is obviously harmful to small populations such as that of the extremely endangered Irrawaddy dolphin in Malamapaya Sound. The few marine mammal experts in the country have their work cut out for them, but plunge tirelessly on anyway.

The Cove focuses on dolphin conservation issues in Japan, but it reminds us all that most of the time, change cannot be affected by large conventions, but by the actions of a few very passionate and committed individuals.

P.S. Remember that news story about an emotional Hayden Panettiere at a dolphin protest? It was in Taiji. She is seen for a few seconds in the film.

Smile Today

2010-01-06T10:07:00.004+08:00

Attempting to describe the effects of music on one's emotional well-being would be impossible. (But you are welcome to try). Vampire Weekend is out with a new album, Contra. Its official release is on January 12th. Listening to its stream now. And just like that, all is well.

Manic Monday

2010-01-04T23:42:00.002+08:00

Gears are clicking into place; the wheels of the world are turning.

The cold is seeping away and already, I miss it. Even daylight is reclaiming the sky.

Talk of school seems to be in the air. Lem and I have been dipping into the subject of me resuming my studies. And all that it implies. Also, my adviser greeted me Happy New Year and promptly reminded me to complete certain, uh, pending requirements. My father has also thrown in the occasional monitoring. Delinquent academic habits must end soon. Once, I asked the girls back at the House of M if they would still love me if I didn't finish graduate school. They replied, rhetorically, "Bakit, 'yun ba ang basehan kung bakit ka namin mahal?" Bless them.

It sucks to be broke. When the clock struck midnight on New Year's Day, I jumped around with my little cousins, wishing for height. I'd forgotten to put coins in my pocket. I should not have been so careless. Now, I have a better chance of growing taller than making money this year.

The year is 2010

2009-12-31T23:16:00.006+08:00

Update: This post was originally entitled #100, because I thought that I'd hit 100 blog entries. I did, but discovered that my dashboard includes drafts in the count. I went through the list and weeded out six draft posts. I had hoped to complete 100 published posts before 2010, but oh well. False alarm. Haha. I guess the milestone will just have to be pushed back several more days.

Nonetheless:

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!

2009 went by quickly for me. It was an emotional year, challenging in many ways; heartbreaking in a particular turn. But I had my family, Lem, and my friends to carry me through to the beginning of another new year. I love you all.

In a Nazi-occupied France

2009-12-31T23:14:00.005+08:00

In Kill Bill, Uma Thurman's Black Mamba scalps Lucy Liu's O-ren Ishii with a samurai. In the new film Inglourious Basterds, Lt. Aldo Raine's men must each collect 100 Nazi scalps. Quentin Tarantino directs another delightful, bloody ride.

Inglourious Basterds does not disappoint. I'm still recovering from the shock of watching the Bear Jew, one of the Basterds, beat a Nazi officer to death with a baseball bat. In another memorable scene, Brad Pitt's Aldo the Apache questions Diane Kruger's Bridget von Hammersmarck about a rendezvous gone awry. To obtain more accurate information, he pushes his index finger into a bullet wound on her leg. Squish, squelch.

Christoph Waltz delivers as the dangerously intelligent, but comically vain, villain. Colonel Hans Landa of the SS is a man of fine tastes, versed in several languages. His reputation as The Jew Hunter is well-deserved, infamous for his hawk-like cunning and dogged pursuit of prey. Deadly and silently efficient, the man missed nothing. Eating apple strudel has never looked so sinister.

Deep Impact in the news

2009-12-31T22:12:00.005+08:00

The asteroid Apophis, named for the Greek variant of the god of chaos, is a near-Earth heavenly body first discovered in 2004. It was initially believed to have a 1-in-37 chance of colliding with Earth in 2029, but recent studies have shown that an impact is unlikely for that year. However, it was also reported that the asteroid will pass very close to the Earth's surface on April 13, 2029. Scientists estimate that it will be about 29, 450 kilometers from our atmosphere. On the other hand, these new calculations still cannot rule out encounters in 2036 and 2068. While the scientists at NASA perceive the asteroid to be more of a great opportunity for space research, the Russians feel that it is necessary to take active steps in preventing a collision.

Murakami gets me

2009-12-30T16:03:00.000+08:00

From Sputnik Sweetheart by Haruki Murakami, page 196

I turned face-up on the slab of stone, gazed at the sky, and thought about all the man-made satellites spinning around the Earth. The horizon was still etched in a faint glow, and stars began to blink on in the deep, wine-coloured sky. I gazed among them for the light of a satellite, but it was still too bright out to spot one with the naked eye. The sprinkling of stars looked nailed to the spot, unmoving. I closed my eyes and listened carefully for the descendants of Sputnik, even now circling the Earth, gravity their only tie to the planet. Lonely metal souls in the unimpeded darkness of space, they meet, pass each other, and part, never to meet again. No words passing between them. No promises to keep.

Victory!

2009-12-29T23:00:00.001+08:00

Three canines currently take up residence at our house. One is Rako, ~~one of my brothers~~ the black Labrador-shepherd mix I feature often on this blog. Another is Ludwig, the German shepherd mix whose stunted social skills are the result of being weaned too early from his mother. The third is Jamfong, a German shepherd-dacshund mix who ingested rat poison and survived. He is also Ludwig's pup.

Rako is large compared to the two other dogs, but he is still a puppy. His youth and relatively mild manner have made him the object of bullying. Father and son take turns snapping at his hind legs and marking their territory. Rako stays within the front of the house while the other two lord it over in the backyard. Fights often end with Ludwig standing over an acquiescent lab. The bullying is exhausting to Rako and stressful to my family. Sometimes, late at night, I hear growling evolve into a full-out brawl. It's difficult having to watch my dog subjected to that kind of misery.

Tonight, when I went out to feed Rako, I found him worrying a woolly, grey doormat. It looked suspiciously like the one on the stoop to my Lola's house, the very same one Ludwig usually sleeps on. Somehow, Rako had managed to infiltrate enemy territory and swipe the goods off the top step. He had captured his oppressor's property, and was mangling the life out of it. Brave soul. Pa and I were beaming: our puppy had made us proud. Amidst the tyranny, Rako had committed a brazen act of rebellion.

FREEEEDOOOOM!!!

Registered Voter

2009-12-29T19:40:00.008+08:00

In one of his columns, Conrado de Quiros expressed that if you stopped caring about politics, you stopped caring about democracy.

My quest to become a registered voter began at the crack of dawn. At 5:30 in the morning, I dragged myself out of bed and took a cab to Comelec. When I got there, I waited in line to groggily write my name next to the number 119. One hundred-eighteen other people had gotten up earlier than me. These days, Comelec meets a quota of 200 applicants per day. We were told to return before one o'clock to pick up our numbers. So at 11:30, I did. I was greeted by a grumpy gate guard who informed me that he had not eaten because "inaasikaso namin kayo." A cigarette held lightly between his lips was the only thing keeping him going.

Because my number ensured me a spot in the afternoon, I squeezed in a few errands and went back at one. I found the same gate guard shoveling rice and pork afritada into his mouth. He seemed more glad to see me then.

The process was more or less what I expected from a government office with only one validation machine. I turned on my patience switch before stepping across the threshold. I knew I was going to be in for some major waiting.

I filled out my registration form next to two girls I assume were in college. Through no intention of mine, I discovered that one of them was about to be marooned in Germany. Ipapatapon daw siya ng nanay niya doon. I also found out that the other girl's parents were separated. She was wondering aloud at what she should write down as her mother's last name. This girl also lives in Quezon Hill (or was it City Camp?), in a barangay whose name contains more letters than the little boxes provided. Turning to her friend, she joked: "Pa-kyopa na nga ng sayo!"

I spent the rest of the afternoon in line, in front of a lady who kept up a running commentary of observed injustices. I listened to her respectfully at first, but when she started campaigning, my brain effectively turned off. She believes that her candidate will clean up Burnham Park and replace the water in the lake. She suspected people of cutting in line, that they exploited their connections on the inside. She alternated between praising the registration process and condemning the government for making us wait in the sun.

The lady ahead of me has a one-year old son, who likes to eat carrots while watching cartoons.

Murakami and his notes on human emotion kept me company in the quiet moments. A half-consumed bag of Cheetos kept me from going hungry. I didn't have water, so cheese stung my throat.

The guy at the validation machine let me have my picture taken twice. I blinked the first time.

In that article by de Quiros, he went on to say that not caring about democracy meant not caring about freedom. So even if I hate it and plow through it almost uncomprehendingly, I must keep caring about politics. I must listen to countless candidates smooth-talk their way into office. I must pick the least evil out of a pack of rabid hyenas. I must choose a group of individuals to govern my City and my Country and hope that they have the People's best interests in mind. I must entrust these fellow human beings with superhuman responsibilities. On May 2010, I will cast my vote.

Wild Thing!

2009-12-26T11:52:00.001+08:00

On Christmas eve, I saw Where the Wild Things Are, Spike Jonze's adaptation of Maurice Sendak's classic children's book.

Max is a young boy dealing with the loss of his father. His teenage sister, busy with her friends, is unable to relate to him. And Catherine Keener plays the loving, but constantly preoccupied mother. Sadness has lodged itself in his heart, and he lashes out at the world. One night, unable to contain the Wild Thing snapping against his insides, he bites his mother and runs away without any supper. He dashes through the street and into the woods, roaring his terrible roar and gnashing his terrible teeth. He finds a boat and sails it through a great sea to where the wild things are. He tames them with his awesome power and becomes their king.

Each of the wild things has a name and is distinct in some way. They are an embodiment of feelings we cannot name, of emotions we hide deep inside ourselves. Max makes an instant connection with Carol, a wild thing who is also dealing with loss through rage. The dialogue was wise and searing, made so by its earnest delivery. In one scene, Carol talks to Max about loneliness and my breath caught. Max Records as Max was amazing.

The island is an untamed paradise. Max and his wild things play among giant trees and sleep in a fort made of tunnels and twigs. Carol and his friend KW build a miniature city in a cave in the middle of a sand desert. This island is ~~our~~ the Secret Place, quiet and primeval. If an adult were stranded here, they would freak out.

Elements of Sendak's wonderful story are visible and serve as the movie's foundation. But Jonze's extrapolations are inspired. He took a children's picture book and transformed it into an exploration of the human condition. The cinematography will make your eyes go wide with child-like wonder; the material will make your chest tighten with beautiful, inexplicable pain. Karen O and the Kids provide a brilliant soundtrack for the film.

The day in random thoughts

2009-12-22T23:19:00.001+08:00

I can't sleep.

Finished Christmas shopping today. The press of people in SM is suffocating. Informed my friends that I have contemplated genocide. Will avoid said mall except to watch Avatar.

I need to do something about the mess in my room. It's been a good week in books and piles are growing. Must move them soon or risk getting buried alive under an avalanche of fiction.

I miss my mother. I see mothers and their daughters caught in the rush of last-minute shopping and I think of Alice in the market, buying ingredients for her Bicol Express.

I think there are more carolers this year. For the last couple of weeks, I have listened to renditions of Jingle Bells and Silent Night punctuated by wild barking. Peals of terror inevitably follow. Rako and the boys do not appreciate Good Cheer around spaces they have claimed with their urine.

Later.

It is ON

2009-12-21T13:41:00.000+08:00