San (*@#$) University

You rush your speech and video presentation. You imagine the questions you’ll get. You prepare. Find time for students daw. Sure. Media’s Role in Nation-Building. Sure. No problem.

The atmosphere is rowdy at best, chaotic at worst. You wait for half an hour before you get to start. And when the lights are turned off for the video presentation, you see the students busy tinkering with their cellphones, chatting with their seatmates, while the rest catch up on sleep. You deliver your speech.

Question and answer time, they become more rowdy.

“So and so says the media sensationalize everything,” asks an overly-confident student, probably thinking he looked smart because he dropped a famous name. I could barely hear him due to the rising noise from his excited classmates.

“If a camera had been rolling here for the past 15 minutes, and we air footages showing students of San (#@!*) University busy chatting with their seatmates or tinkering with their cellphones while their invited guest was speaking, what will it be called? Will we call it sensationalism, or an accurate presentation of facts? Is it sensational because improper behavior is shown for public scrutiny? Or is it an accurate presentation of facts? Because that’s what I have been seeing from up here for the past 15 minutes."

Silence. Deafening silence. Three more lousy questions and I head for the exit.

I am beginning to seriously dislike rich people. They forgot to buy decorum to go along with their expensive lifestyle. It should come with their signature shoes and bags, and cellphones and Ipods and...

Wala na yata talagang pag-asa tong bansang ito. Mas mahal ang edukasyon nila, pero mga walang modo. Bagsak sa GMRC.

Punyeta, libre iyon. At day off ko. Itinulog ko na lang sana.

I Don't Get It

One lazy and sleep-deprived Saturday night in Malate:

He's plump, but he openly criticizes women for what he perceives as imperfections in their figure. He's not a gentleman, and that's the understatement of the year. He's uncouth and lewd. But he is able is date and bed the most beautiful women in Manila. And bed-hopping he goes.

I don't get it. Is it because he is filthy rich and shows up in sports cars? Will someone explain this to me?

A Fairytale for Angel

Preparing for Katrina: CJ's Version

I promised "the Angel" I'd give her the short version. Here goes:

Once upon a time, there was a land battered by the sea and a river. The place was three meters below sea level, but the people decided to build a city despite the location's disadvantages.

The people loved music. It became the birthplace of jazz. Thousands of songs will be written in the city, for the city, and its famous music-related streets.

Then came a king (an idiot by any standards) who ruled the country. He was warned in 2001 that the barriers that guarded the city against the waters of the sea and the river needeed to be strengthened. Alas, he was busy. He was either vacationing, or spending money on his war with another king. "Remember, this is the guy who tried to kill my dad," he said.

Then came Katrina. It howled and growled and inundated the musical city with its floodwaters. The barriers broke. "This is the end," said a city official.

The governor was a lady "who did not know the 102nd airborne from the Vienna Boys' Choir," described an underling. The lady governor talked to the king who was busy waging wars. She asked for help but the war-waging king was too darn busy, or was totally clueless. He went back to sleep. On the second day, the king's advisers even had to make a CD copy of networks' news reports for him to finally grasp the tragedy that hit the music city, and get him to act.

Now, despite their city's contribution to music, its residents were too poor to buy a car. Only one out of five families had a car. Incidentally, they were almost all black. But the ineptitude, a black senator said, was "color blind," and that there was no "active malice." The senator said there was merely an assumption that every family in the (idiot) king's kingdom had "the capacity to load up their family in an SUV, fill it up with S100 worth of gasoline, stick some bottled water in the trunk and use a credit card to check into a hotel on safe ground."

But of course, there were cases of racism. "A white river-taxi operator helped a lot of people to safety," reported a news magazine. "All were white." The river taxi operator said "A nigg-r is a nigg-r is a nigg-r."

Helicopter pilots wanted to immedialy fly out and pluck out people from the raging waters. They got no go signal. No one wanted to make the call. All agencies tasked to help out during emergencies were raring to go, but there was no one to give them the authority to do so. There was a breakdown in the system. The kingdom was ready for war, but not for a Hurricane Katrina. The king (a certified idiot) was still asleep.

Hundreds died. Hundreds drowned. The whole town was devastated. There's no music to be heard from the town as yet. Maybe not in a long while.

Paalam, Ma'am Haydee

Her glare is as famous as her hair style (or lack thereof). She can give you a dressing down if you interviewed her unprepared, just hoping to get a byline without real interest. She'd patiently give you answers explaining the process, if that's what you're after. She's a teacher after all. She'd enjoy questions that would make her think. But if you're just out to satisfy an editor waiting for your story at the desk, you'll go home with your tail between your legs, and a one-liner you will have a hard time living down the rest of your life.

Aside from Haydee Yorac, the other who made me study the law and the issues of the day was Francis Garchitorena.

They're both gone now.

As a snot-nosed, college dropout reporter, I covered Haydee during her stint as chief government negotiator with the rebel soldiers. I got a taste of her glare when I cornered her in the elevator to get a soundbite, along with my very worried cameraman. I didn't know a stare can cause heat from head to foot. But after the glare, she answered a few questions, with an admonition to wait for her scheduled presscon next time. I guess she knew I was just out to make an honest living.

She was shaking hands with fugitive soldiers, and the headline pictures the following day had her with her mouth wide open, seemingly yelling at someone. She was yelling at us. "Tama na! Sobra nang photo opp ito. Tama na" (This is too much of a photo opp. Enough!) What was not shown was everyone laughing afterwards, even Haydee.

Her COMELEC was one of the most credible. As someone said, if she were the COMELEC chief, you won't have a "Hello Garci" tape, and there won't be a "Hello Haydee" tape, either.

She tamed the ferocious Ali Dimaporo, and romantic rumours started circulating. She laughingly explained that when they were students, Dimaporo did try to win her, but she didn't want to be the nth wife of anyone.

What made me admire her was her uncompromising love of country and the law. She lived a simple life and worked like hell to help out.

Haydee Yorac was a rare human being. She was a blessing you wish there were more of. We need more like her. She was a woman we all can be proud of. (I am tempted to compare her with the woman currently in Malacanang, but a rat should not be sharing space with Haydee)

Paalam, Ma'am Haydee.

Love Thy Neighbor

Ha! Kaya niyo iyan?

I think in the next couple of weeks, I will be obeying that commandment. Cute neighbor. Flirty neighbor. Interesting neighbor.

Small talk today. Small talk yesterday. Exchanging smiles. Exchanging glances. Tomorrow, exchanging keys. Harharhar!

(Just kidding, Kevin!)

Iz Not Ezi

Ilokano-Filipino-Americans Brian and CJ with Vietnamese-American neighbor Cindy. Zey mek a nic grup (Siyempre una ang Ilokano sa billing)

The European Commission has just announced an agreement whereby English will be the official language of the European Union rather than German, which was the other possibility.

As part of the negotiations, the British Government conceded that English spelling had some room forimprovement and has accepted a 5- year phase-in plan that would become known as "Euro-English".

In the first year, "s" will replace the soft "c". Sertainly, this will make the sivil servants jump with joy.

The hard "c" will be dropped in favour of "k". This should klear up konfusion, and keyboards kan have one less letter.

There will be growing publik enthusiasm in the sekond year when the troublesome "ph" will be replaced with "f". This will make words like fotograf 20% shorter.

In the 3rd year, publik akseptanse of the new spelling kan be expekted to reach the stage where more komplikated changes are possible.

Governments will enkourage the removal of double letters which have always ben a deterent to akurate speling.

Also, al wil agre that the horibl mes of the silent "e" in the languag is disgrasful and it should go away.

By the 4th yer people wil be reseptiv to steps such as replasing "th" with "z" and "w" with "v".

During ze fifz yer, ze unesesary "o" kan be dropd from vords kontaining "ou" and after ziz fifz yer, ve vil hav a reil sensibl riten styl.

Zer vil be no mor trubl or difikultis and evrivun vil find it ezi tu understand ech oza. Ze drem of a united urop vil finali kum tru.

Und efter ze fifz yer, ve vil al be speking German like zey vunted in ze forst plas.

(Of course you all know this is a joke, as the French will never agree to be just in shadows. After all, they're French!)

Not Guilty, Your Honor

Innocent. I was asleep when it happened

The judge is strict. After all, she's a woman. (There, I am being sexist again) She rejects all arguments for the arraignment's postponement. Inwardly, I was smiling. If there's a judge I would want to handle my case, I'd rather it's a woman. I just hope she's really straight.

A couple of weeks ago, I felt like letting out a howl of laughter when I saw my weird name miraculously spelled correctly, along with my middle name, and the big word "WANTED" under it. The NBI has been informed of the P20M libel case. It's a good thing I carry my bail receipt with me all the time. A night in jail doesn't seem romantic. Baka walang kape at yosi roon. Teka, me guapo ba roon?

Yada, yada, yada, yada, the lady judge said. She made the court stenographer read all that's written on the 16-page charge sheet. I grimaced at how poorly she can read, even the words in tagalog. Some sentences did not make sense but she read on. Will she be typing the decision? Nyeta. Must I really trust this court with my fate? Even the other defendants' and lawyers' names were misspelled. The lawyers are talking in English but some sentences made sense only to Martians. Lawyerspeak is lousyspeak.

When it was finally over, "What say you?" Lawyerspeak is really lousyspeak.

"Not guilty your honor."

From now on, everytime I'm asked if I've been charged with a crimininal offense, I will have to say yes. Tsk. Mas nauna pang maging "yes" ang sagot ko sa tanong na iyon kesa sa "May asawa ka na ba?" "May anak ka na ba?" "May kotse ka na ba?" "May mansion ka na ba?" Wala talagang hustisya kung minsan.

Mediocrity

CJ working on his "akyat bahay" skills.

"I want a car," she tells me.
"So do I. I've begun saving up for one," I say.
"I need to get a promotion so I can afford it," she says.
"Then step up to the plate and let your boss know," I say.
"I'll never be a manager. I can't handle that much responsibility," she says.

Therein lies the tragedy of her life. And many other otherwise brilliant people I know.

The world will never be in short supply of people who will tell us that we cannot achieve our dreams. It would be tragic if we join the naysayers and we say nay to our own dreams. Not, never, on our own dreams.

Going around the Golden Gate Bridge park, my aunt was startled when I let out a yahoo, accompanied by "raise the roof" gestures meant for Michael Jordan. I was reading the plaque at the park at the foot of the bridge.

In 1921, Joseph Strauss arrived in San Francisco from Chicago with a dream of building a suspension bridge. "It cannot be built" was a line he and his team encountered a million times. That it stands there since 1937 is proof that dreamers conquer.

In 2002 when the program was being slapped around by competition in the ratings game I told myself: "This show will rate well and beat competition every Saturday. Winning will become a habit, and the only question to be answered is by how much." It is not of the magnitude of a suspension bridge where turbulent salty and freshwater merge, but just the same, it was unimaginable at the time. It was a version of the Golden Gate bridge to me and the team I work with.

Dream big, and have the discipline to attend to the fineprint called details. CJ achieved his dream of messing up his mom's utensils drawer by planting his feet carefully where it will hold. He didn't get there by accident. He worked for it. (And paid for it. My elder sister is big on that word kids and grownups hate: discipline. She's mean.)

As kids we knew no limits. Why do we shed that take-no-prisoner attitude when we grow up? It is frustrating to see young people grow so old in just over two decades of their lives.

Why am I ranting about dreams?

I hate mediocrity. People who say they were unable to do this and that because of this and that. I love people who say "Hey, I had a tough time every step of the way but look what I came up with!"

Excuses are a dime a dozen. A dreamer and achiever is a diamond, a blessing to work with.

Otherwise, join the crowd that says the world is flat. There's another that says there's nothing more to invent. As I said, the world doesn't run out of naysayers.

CJ Runs Away

The day CJ was again force-fed his meds, he laid out an elaborate plan to run away from home. He saw his bike and his face lit up. Aha! Passport outta here!

He took his teddy and strapped his furry friend to his bike.

Then he took his mom's car key and tried to insert it into his bike's handlebar. (Who would want to break into a sweat, when you have a gasoline-fired bike, anyway?)

He lost his cool when it didn't work out the way he planned. (Mom made it look easy) He ditched teddy.

Last time I heard, he's still trying to run away.
"Never mind, honey. We'll down a glass of vodka with the next tablet. Or long island iced tea. Tahan na..."

Medications Schmications

CJ hates his medicines. I guess he's just being a kid. Come to think of it, I postpone taking my meds until I am unable to breathe. Let me change that line. A lot of people do not like taking medicines.

All sessions involving medicines is tough on my sister. But its' tougher on CJ. He scampers and skitters around the house as fast as his little socked feet can carry him, hides under whatever he thinks will shield him. Ah, but grownups are mean. They corner him. He has nowhere to hide. The pictures below prove the point.



Tsk. I wish I'm there to rescue the little scared prince. Hah! I hear the words again. "Kunsintidor ka. Wala ka nang ginawa kundi kampihan ang mga pamangkin mo!!" Imagine hearing that from your mom and sister, yakking at the same time.

But that's what aunties are for. "Spoiling nephews" is in my job description. I asked around. I did my homework.

"Come here, baby. Let me give you a glass of tequila with that tablet...Tahan na..."

Long Break

CJ "slaving" it
Brace yourself up for a long break starting October 29. Here's why:

October 29 Saturday
October 30 Sunday
October 31 Monday (Proclamation 829 declares it as a non-working day)
November 1 All Saints Day
November 2 All Souls Day
November 3 Eidl Feitre (Last day of Ramadan, which, officially, is a legal holiday)
November 4 Friday (Who would want to go to work on a Friday after a long break?)
November 5 Saturday
November 6 Sunday

Spread the news.

For people who work in news and public affairs, we can only drool and salivate. Wala kami niyan. At matanggal ko nang tanggap iyon.

Hotdog at Blow ***

Pampalipas ng init ng ulo. Punta ng Starbucks sa SM, malapit sa grocery. Kita kita ng barkada. Ako, da Negra. Si Mina, da bes pren. Height: 5'7'. Si Mon, baklang 6 footer. Si Con, maliit. Bata pa, manager na. Mataas ang IQ at EQ. Pero bansot.

Ginutom ang Negra. Nagpunta sa stall ng hotdog. Bumili ng isa. Nainggit ang Mina. Gustong makikagat. Ayoko nga, kako.

"Tangna, Negra! Bes pren mo ako!" protesta niya.

"Ayoko nga, e! Gutom nga ako. Bumili ka ng sarili mo," sabi ko sabay haltak ng braso kong may hawak na kalahati na lang na hotdog on stick.

Hinablot ni bes pren ang kamay ko, sabay kagat sa kinakain ko.
"Ey!" sabi ko. Sabay habol sa kanya. Mababawi ko pa ba iyon, nginangata na niya? Basta. Makabatok man lang.

"Bwahahaha! Hindi ko kinaya! Hotdog lang, nag-aaway na kayo? At may mag-invoke ba ng best friend clause?" sabi ni Mon bakla.

"Huwag kang patawa-tawa riyan, Mon, baka i-blow*** kita!" sabi ni Mina.

"Eeewwww, gross!" sabi ng bakla. Diring-diring umupo ulit sa kapihan namin.

Sa gitna ng gulo, nakangiti pero tahimik lang si Con. Sabi ko nga, mataas ang EQ at IQ.

Bumili na lang ulit ako ng hotdog. At kinain ko sa harapan mismo ng tindera. Mahirap na.

I Need to Smile

There. Three great reasons to smile: CJ, a chocolate concoction, a white shirt. My sister's laundry nightmare. My mom's reason to get hysterical. My idea of cute, fun, and happy childhood. Let 'em roll in the mud and give 'em a bath later. I am just glad I am not living with them otherwise I'll be accused of being "dugyot" and of causing irreparable character damage to my nephews again. If they threaten me with disinheritance, that would be great. And effective. That would mean we have some hidden wealth stashed somewhere, and I'd be quaking in my boots thinking of abject poverty. Hah! Abject poverty. Heavy Saturday morning word. Trigger: waiting for late scripts to come in. Time is gold daw.

Men Are Smarter?

Will CJ be smarter than his female friends just because of his gender?

I got this one from the BBC website, via a tip from fellow blogger Steve. Reactions, violent or otherwise, are welcome.

'Men cleverer than women'

Academics in the UK claim their research shows that men are more intelligent than women.

A study to be published later this year in the British Journal of Psychology says that men are on average five points ahead on IQ tests.

Paul Irwing and Professor Richard Lynn claim the difference grows when the highest IQ levels are considered.

Their research was based on IQ tests given to 80,000 people and a further study of 20,000 students.

Dr Irwing, a senior lecturer in organisational psychology at Manchester University, told the Today programme on BBC Radio Four the study showed that, up to the age of 14, there was no difference between the IQs of boys and girls.

"But beyond that age and into adulthood there is a difference of five points, which is small but it can have important implications," he said.

"This is against a background of women dramatically overtaking men in educational attainment and making very rapid advances in terms of occupational achievement."
The academics used a test which is said to measure "general cognitive ability" - spatial and verbal ability.

As intelligence scores among the study group rose, the academics say they found a widening gap between the sexes.

There were twice as many men with IQ scores of 125, for example, a level said to correspond with people getting first-class degrees.

At scores of 155, associated with genius, there were 5.5 men for every woman.
Dr Irwing told The Times the differences "may go some way to explaining the greater numbers of men achieving distinctions of various kinds, such as chess grandmasters, Fields medallists for mathematics, Nobel prize-winners and the like".

The paper will argue that there is evidence that at the same level of IQ, women are able to achieve more than men "possibly because they are more conscientious and better adapted to sustained periods of hard work".

Earlier this year, the president of Harvard University, Lawrence Summers, sparked controversy when he suggested at a seminar that one reason men outperformed women in maths and science was genetics.

Several guests walked out of the conference after hearing the comments. Dr Summers, who has apologised repeatedly for his remarks, said later that the shortage of senior female academics was partly caused by child-minding duties, which restricted working hours.

Don't You Want One of Your Own?

It's Maan's baby's christening. Everyone has a baby or two in tow, and the tots are busy remodeling the restaurant as they see fit. Or as much as their muscles can muster. Balloons are popping here and there. I was having fun watching them. And taking their pictures. Kids make perfect models.

"Don't you want one of your own? Don't you get envious?" Joy asks.
"NO!!!" I grimaced.
She laughed.
Lately, everyone has been prescribing a baby for me. Like I am sick and a baby is a panacea.

Don't get me wrong. I love babies. I love kids. All kids are cute, as long as they are given regular baths and diaper changes. As long as they are not bratty. As long as they are polite. As long as they eat at the right time. As long as they eat their vegetables. As long as they are not needy. As long as they are not whiny. As long as they are not crybabies. As long as they are smart. As long as they don't tear the pages off my books. As long as they stay out of my laptop. As long as they know when it's the right time to talk to me. As long as they sleep eight hours or more and don't keep me up at night. As long as they can take care of their own mess. As long as....

Geesh! Some of these things, even adults, like the men i dated, can't handle.
Now, do you still wonder why I'm not wedded, bedded and kidded? (Hmmm...i love that line)

(That's CJ, my latest nephew in Florida. I have 13 nephews and nieces...and counting!)