Mishmashed Mawkishness

The Pedicab Driver

2011-02-19T16:46:00.009+13:00

The chair where I settled myself was a little rickety. It creates a noisy,creaking sound every time I move. Now is my turn to speak to the old guy and this chair is bothering me.

In a perfunctory manner, he asked me, "How would you like your life on Earth be - an English panhandler, an American bum, or a Filipino pedicab driver?"

I replied, "It's time to replace this chair, Sir. It's battered and worn-out. And the creaking sound!"

"My child, that chair is none of your business. Now, choose! Or go back to the end of the line."

I looked over the old man's shoulder and saw the soul before me as he prepares for his life on Earth. "May I know Sir, what kind of life he is about to endure on Earth?"

"Oh, that guy? He will become a fashion designer. Life with waifer-thin girls in stilettos, flashy and fabulous. Now choose."

"Wow, can I have that kind of life too?"

"No, you cannot. This lifetime can't have too many fashion designers. I have already assigned 10 fashion designers for this cycle. Would you like to hear your options again?"

"That's okay, no need to repeat them, Sir. May I just get a preview of what's in store for me if I choose one of those options?"

"And why would I allow you such privilege?"

"Sir, I am going to spend a good 50 to 60 years of my life under the conditions entailed by whatever kind of life I choose. I need to have an informed decision."

"And what do I get in return?"

"You will never hear me complain, not single word. I will make it known how happy I am with my choice."

"Okay, it is a deal."

Just as when the scenes are about to unfold before my eyes, I feel the rickety chair giving up under my weight.

Then I wake up. Sitting inside a pedicab while waiting for my next passenger.

;-p

Last Day of The Circus

2010-05-12T19:09:00.004+12:00

Today is the last day of the circus.

The early morning air is still with a waft of excitement. Along with my mom and younger sister, we were at the gates of our assigned precint at about 6:30 AM. We anticipated that the turnout will be thick so we went there as early as we could.

A crowd is already gathering when we reached St. Michael School of Cavite. The place is teeming with banners and posters of candidates wooing voters with their toothy smiles. At exactly 7:00 AM, the gates were opened. I prepared myself for a sweaty and physically-challenging morning.

We immediately proceeded to the 2nd floor of the school building where our precints-127 Q and 127 R- are located. Our precints were clustered with 3 other precints O, P, and S. As a result, there were approximately 1000 voters in a cluster group who will be sharing one PCOS machine.

The trip going to the second floor to our cluster group 222 was a feat in itself. Sharing the floor with cluster group 221, you can just imagine how the walls of the rooms are bursting with voters, all eager to get a feel of the "efficient and reliable" SMARTMATIC machines.There, as sweat trickles down my face, ideas of a smooth and orderly voting were all gone. And it is just 7:30 in the morning.

At around 8:00, a nameless Board of Election Inspector ordered everybody from the 2nd and 3rd floors to proceed to the school's quadrangle. He said that number stubs will be distributed and will not be permitted to enter the polling precints unless we have with us a number stub. I have no problems following instructions, so being the obedient citizen that I am, I lined up and waited to get a number stub under the scorching sun. This is where the fun starts.

As we waited for our number stubs so we can exercise our frigging right to vote, I see some PPCRV volunteers giving away number stubs to individuals who were not in the queue--a perfect picture of the good old "palakasan" system at work.

The eight-hour wait I spent lining up to get inside the precint was just equivalent to 10 minutes inside the polling precint. This included finding my name in the masterlist, shading my ballot and feeding it to the PCOS machine.

I was able to cast my vote at 3:45 PM after a gruelling 8-hour wait. I stared at my inked forefinger as we walk out of the school vicinity, then fatigue started to set in.

I came to realize that automating the election is a significant step for the Philippines' electoral system. Making the people utilize the system is another thing. For the people who got so used to antiquated manual polling system, we still have a lot to learn and unlearn.

I Know What You Shared in the Internet

2010-05-05T13:23:00.009+12:00

You'll never know what you'll find in the internet nowadays. I was just absent-mindedly browsing through GMA News website, when at the corner of my eyes I saw a familiar name and face. There, at the corner labeled as "Recent Activity", my FB profile is winking at me. It even stated the date I shared the g*ddamn link.

The Tale of the Unfortunately Misplaced Comma

2010-05-03T15:57:00.005+12:00

There are instances in our life when we have to stop and pause for a while – like a comma within our life’s lengthy and incoherent sentences. A lot of these pauses can happen along the way – sickness, losing a job, failed relationships, which are somehow beyond our control.

I used to believe that I can write. Then, when I was an editor in the student publication of my university, when I was winning inter-college writing competitions and when I have all the time in the world to waste daydreaming. I was sure that I will be pursuing a career in writing/literature or in a related field.

But life took an expected turn. I woke up one day with the realization that I have son to raise and I am doing it on my own.

You see, these pauses can also be life-altering. Instead of following my dream, I had to turn to posts that will put food on our table and provide for my son’s needs. No, I can’t afford to live the struggling artist’s life. I just had to put my pen down and set aside romantic dreams of being able to produce a worthy literary piece.

Now, my worst fear is happening, my writing skills are beginning to atrophy. Creativity has deserted me, inspiration seldom visits and if it does, it is gone before I even had the chance to realize and capture it in word form. I am even beginning to forget the rules in grammar, my vocabulary is thinning and I am being uncomfortable with my use of punctuations.

If I may quote my friend, I think I am unfortunately mis,placing a comma here.

:-)

The Savage Asuang and Other Tales

2007-09-21T17:23:00.002+12:00

Picture this. A young fair-skinned lady with long hair coming out of her nipa hut carrying an oil lamp and stealthily walking under the full moon. She goes to a nearby woods and stops right beneath a banana tree. Now don’t blink! The lady after spreading on some oil all over her body starts to metamorphose into a demi-human, demi-bat creature. Then up goes the upper-half, hovering on roofs, looking for pregnant women and sickly child as midnight snack.

The viscera-sucker or commonly known as “asuang” are nocturnal beings whom were believed to transform themselves into flying creatures that feast on human internal organs and fetus inside a woman’s womb every time the moon is on its fullest. Usually depicted by Filipino folklore and mythology as a sweet, innocent-looking lady during the daytime that turns into a savage creature at night.

The tale of “asuang” has been deeply embedded in our culture that it has already influenced the’ way Filipinos deal with life. Anybody who doesn’t appreciate the taste and smell of garlic would be teased as an “asuang”, thinking that garlic is an antidote to ward them off.

Tales of viscera-sucker were first told by Spanish friars who came to the Philippines during the 16th century. Filipinos during those times were already living inside organized barangays led by male rajahs and datus. However, empowered women were also taking part in the running of communities as “catalonas” and “babaylanes” or female priests.

Apart from their roles as midwives and herbalists, locals would also oftentimes implore their suggestions for things such as when should they get married, when should they start building their house and other supernatural phenomena since female shamans are persons that transcends the boundary between human and spiritual dimension. These roles proved their presence as vital in running the community.

The friars saw this as a threat and so devised a reversal-scheme. Analysis of the attributes of the viscera-sucker or “asuang” points out to the said reversal of the image of the female shamans. Catalonas who were midwives were reversed from being a life-saver to life-taker as exhibited by the asuang’s propensity to human fetuses and internal organs. This is also graphically represented by the viscera-sucker’s leaving behind of the lower reproductive half while the upper-half engages on destructive acts.

Female priests are known as herbalists that constitute their knowledge of herbal medicines and healing herbal fragrances. The viscera-sucker on the other hand is noted for her obnoxious smell and abhorrence of garlic which is an important part of the Filipino cuisine and noted for its medicinal value. But what’s more disturbing is the inversion of the Filipino value of family solidarity and sociality since viscera-suckers are obliged to cannibalize at least one member of her family as an important initiation right to being a viscera-sucker.

The Spanish friars reared by Western-Mediterranean brand of machismo were ultimately shocked by the freedom these women enjoy in their community. Their involvement in warfare (wherein they are placed in the forefront yelling at their enemies and the first to throw their spears signaling the start of the battle) speaks well of their political freedom.

Predominantly, friars who noted about women leaving their partners whenever he displeases her were viewed as a sexual freedom disparate of their orientation. These empowered women should be subjugated under male dominance—Spanish or Native.

And so they succeeded. The male natives during those times, enjoying their newfound power over their female counterparts decided to cling on to it which paved the way to machismo—Filipino way. After centuries of mind setting that women in general are of lesser worth to the male specie, she developed a sense of submission and self guilt. Viscera-sucker tales may have been slowly ebbing out but the existing double standard still haunts the Filipino women even in this age of information and liberalization. Spanish friars’ stories’ of asuang attacks are now replaced by vicious accounts of wife beatings, molestation, emotional and psychological torture and sexual harassment. Just how the catalonas and babaylanes were lashed and beaten during the Spaniard’s rule in order to subjugate the Filipino women to male supremacy.

Now picture this. A young fiery-eyed young lady marching along asphalt streets, braving the scorching heat of the sun. She carries with her protests against the society’s inequity. She is the catalona and the babaylan reincarnated. The female shaman, after almost four hundred years of slumber is back ready to face a brand new battle. To reclaim the freedom and respect that was taken away from her.

Tapping the Right Resources

2007-09-15T15:11:00.000+12:00

I am amazed at how this circus called politics can put up heart-pounding stunts and amusing gimmicks. I got entertained with the recently concluded May Elections as candidates showed a dazzling array of talents- some ate fire as they belt out tunes while some danced on burning coal- just to land a spot under the political sun.

After three full moons, the dust should have settled by now.But not for Ping, one of the circus masters,who believes that the dust should never be allowed to settle.Or there will be no more dust to sting the public's eyes.

Ping has found himself a new show dog. He calls him Doble. This show dog can do moving renditions of "Through the Fire", and "Long-distance Love Affair." But Doble's most celebrated trick is his ability to intercept and record phone conversations-a trick that catapulted Garci to stardom.And introduced the best-selling single, "Hello Garci!"

But Doble doesn't stop there. He also knows how to dance to the tune of two million bucks. oh yes,Doble is serving Ping's purpose of keeping the audiences engaged and mezmerised.

Only Ping can tell when it's curtains for Doble the showdog.By then, he will be remembered for his heart-felt version of "My Way" ending with a big bang. BANG!

Small But Robust

2007-08-05T19:30:00.001+12:00

Pagmulat ng mata langit nakatawa sa Batibot...

I was born in the eighties, I counted one to ten with Kuya Bodgie; a certified "Batang Batibot." Mornings are not complete without my daily dose of "Mga Kuwento ni Ate Siena", and "Mga Hula ni Manang Bola."
Batibot translated as "small but robust" is a children's show which started in the early eighties and continued until late nineties.It was dubbed as our version of Sesame Street albeit in Filipino language. It spawned a number of names and characters headed by Pong Pagong and Kiko Matsing as our version of Big Bird and Oscar, Ningning and Gingging as our local Ernie and Bert, and Sitsiritsit and Alibangbang as the Two-headed Monster of Sesame Street.

It cannot be denied that Batibot is an offshoot of its western counterpart, but the show was brave enough to take the risk of using our own language and highlight the value dear to us as Filipinos. Since children spend at least two hours watching television, I was really bothered by the fact that the show is not receiving the same popularity it received then, among children nowadays. There were various attempts to stage wholesome children shows but they all packed up one after another.

Unless a new Filipino children show is produced, children these days would have to settle counting with purple Barney and exploring with hispanic Dora.

The Truth That Will Set Smith Free

2006-12-10T12:04:00.000+12:00

I missed the Pacquaio-Morales match. I didnt see those killer punches that made Morales land on his rear-end and bade his boxing career Adios! I did not witness Manny's triumphant moment when his shining fist was raised up in the air. But it was just fine, I had expected that the boy will clinch it. Manny is a living proof that the little brown guy can dance (to the tune of Eye of the Tiger).

But I would never want to miss the Nicole-Lance Corporal Daniel Smith bout dubbed as "The Subic Bay Rape Case".
The wayward white boy, Lnce Crprl Daniel Smith got the upperhand over the little brown b*tch, Nicole, when the latter was dumped on one of Subic's streets; pants missing, with a used condom and vivid accounts of how it all happened.

Needless to say, Nicole regained her composure, odds being reversed and the next things we see, is a triumphant verdict of guilty beyond reasonable doubt, in favor of Nicole.

The process must have been long and ardous for Nicole, but her fight is just beginning. Good(?) 'Ole Uncle Sam will definitely interfere and pull the necessary (puppet) strings to change the direction of the case. As I am tapping on my keyboard, GMA's minions are expressing their support to the U.S.'s suggestion(?) of transferring Smith to a U.S. facility, while the case is still being elevated to the Court of Appeals.

Moreso, Nicole is not only seeking justice for this crime commited against her but she was also resisting the pull to conform to centuries-old of inferiority complex and lack of national pride.Nobody knows when her fight will end, maybe until all of her hope and strenght are consumed.

The simple truth is that rape is a crime. It was commited against the poor girl and the verdict was simply to dispense justice. But since Smith is an American serviceman, protected by the provisions of the Visiting Forces Agreement (VFA), he can just be shipped back to his country, singing "Star-spangled Banner" and get on with his life. He might even choose to order a Filipina bride online. This is the sad truth that will set Smith free. Nicole's case will then be just another statistic.

Burn, Momma, Burn

2006-11-21T16:22:00.000+12:00

In India, during 4th century B.C. ,widows, after their spouse's death, are left with only two options: pack their stuff and head to tralalaland, or hurl their bodies into their husband's burning funeral pyre.

These virtuous women, referred to as "suttees", are expected to fulfill this ultimate gesture, to expurge their sins and assure her and her departed husband eternal bliss.

This prevailed, until the British government outlawed the tradition in 1800s. But rumor has it that it still secretly occurs until today. Modern day suttees must be singing "Eternal Flame" (as performed by The Bangles) as flames consume every inch of their skin.

I wonder if husbands who outlive their wives also go through the same feat?

An Anthropological Hoax

2006-11-21T16:17:00.000+12:00

The Marcos Regime left a string of the most intriguing stories of our time. No, I am not talking about the discovery of Yamashita Treasure, or Ninoy's Assasination Plot. Those stories had been dissected and discussed ad nauseam, it feels like I had first hand share of the events myself. What I found out is less celebrated, but equally interesting.

The year was 1971. There was so much excitement circulating within the scientific world. Dafal, a Filipino hunter, stumbled upon the Tasaday Tribe hidden within a thick rain forest. The modern world had just discovered a prehistoric relic existing on an island in Mindanao. Scientists, anthropologists, international media and organizations came in hordes, all eager to stick their noses into such an amazing discovery: A prehistoric group of people, still following stone age ways far from the reaching arms of civilization.

The Minister for Tribal Affairs, Manuel Elizalde, during Ferdinand Marcos, is in charge of the affairs.And just a year after their discovery, the Tasaday forest was declared as an anthropological reserve in 1972.

It stayed that way for fourteen years.There were about twenty-seven people, including children, and they existed without any knowledge about agriculture or raising livestock. They had no social norms, no social hierarchy, no leaders.

But when the Marcos Regime receives the last inevitable blow in 1986, and as soon as Marcos was unseated, the lid was lifted and out goes the stench. Oswald Iten, a Swiss journalist, paid an unannounced visit to the Tasaday reserve. Much to Ossy's surprise, he was greeted by tribesmen wearing modern underwear beneath leaf aprons and cavemen living in modern houses.

It was a splendid performance worthy of an Oscar Award. The gentle Tasaday sported crude tools and spoke their ancient Tasaday language to pull up the act. And the children too, were very cooperative.
While scientists were shaking their heads and anthropologists argue how they were taken for a ride, Elizalde is sipping the rich, steaming froth of the proceeds from grants, intended for the tribe's preservation.

Amazing isn't it? I'd probably try to look for someone who can claim that he's seen Bin Laden basking under our tropical sun.

Strange Beginnings

2006-11-21T16:15:00.000+12:00

Aristotle, an ancient Greek philosopher, and incidentally,The Father of Science, presented theories that were based on misunderstanding of the forces governing the physical world. This may seem odd, but he really believed that the brain was a blood-cooling device, that maggots spontaneously develop on meat, and that all things are varied combinations of air, water, fire and earth, and discounted Democritus for his "Atom Theory".

He also categorized things based on their "gravity" or "levity". Earthen materials, which sink in water and other liquids, had more gravity, and fire, which leaps up in the air, had more levity. To explain how stars and other celestial bodies float in the outerspace, he created the fifth element which he calls "ether".

It never occured to Aristotle, and to most ancient Greek intellectuals, to put these theories under testing. Experiment was unheard of, until a 17th century scientist by the name of Francis Bacon introduced the concept.

These profound errors were conceived because of logic and observation, which is the very foundation of science. So let's just leave Aristotle as he is right now, the reigning "Father of Science" or we might end up rewriting textbooks and launch debates as to who deserves to get the title.

In Defense of Cell Phones

2006-11-21T16:01:00.000+12:00

I couldn't help but wonder
How in the thicket of thin air
Throbbings sent by minuscule hearts
Are received by its intended cell

*
Bowed heads of glinting eyes
That scintillates, not with the glow
Of the screen's backlight
But with clowns popping out of
The screen and strings of letters
Being scrolled down.

*
No.
A unit cannot be anymore reduced
To mere plastic chips.
Or mere buttons to
Push

Quills

2006-11-21T15:55:00.001+12:00

I was digging through some old cds at home, one rainy lazy sunday afternoon. An old buddy was asking me to come with her for another tiring rounds at a newly opened "supernova-mall" somewhere in Roxas Boulevard. I fabricated reasons just to stay at home. I told my friend that I had to finish some crochette-ing and cross-stitching jobs, and some carpentry stuff after that.

My wallet's almost dried-up and I guess, I am just not in my best mood to prowl around and spread love, harmony and world peace by strutting my ass in a crowded mall. After a few minutes of digging into my old stack of discs, I found something that may suffice and keep me awake for a good 2 or 3 hours.

So I settled to watch a not-so-old movie, which I had first seen some 5 or maybe 6 years ago. The title was "Quills" and it stars Kate Winslet and Joaquin Phoenix. And yeah, the Great Geoffrey Rush who plays the role of Marquis` de Sade. The story unfolds in an asylum/institution where the "demented", "queer" and those who were labeled "unfit" to thrive within the norms of the society, are placed (or should I say, locked-up).
Marquis` de Sade was part of the population, and he is guilty for writing prose that leans on the sexual, which the conservative society deems as a threat to an otherwise "wholesome and decent" social norms. So he was ordered to be incarcerated and was prohibited from transcribing his "lewd" ideas into printed letters. But just like man's morning erection, De Sade didn't just stopped there. He's got blankets, a goblet of red wine and chickenbones as a quill and he had her laundress Maddy, played by Ms. Winslet, smuggle the stories, to be published for the prudish world to read. And when blankets and wine was taken away, he cut his tongue off and he splattered his prose with his own blood all over the walls of his cell.

That scene was reeking with madness and insanity, so mad that it follows me even during sleep, hours after I watched the movie. I came to realize how I have been betraying myself for not doing what I had always wanted to do, to wield words, to write.

I am existing in a time where medium is not a problem, and people don't get incarcerated for writing (Except if you're writing about GMA and her government; you get gunned down. That is not a problem with me because I intend to write about other better things).I need not slice off a member of my anatomy, we got papers everywhere, and an interesting thing called "blog".
For years, I have been a doing somnambulogues. I eat, I drink, I shit and I fuck. I do the things normal people does. But they were all did while in deep slumber.

I just woke up... and I am now ready to spread love, harmony,and world peace.
And I will do that by wielding prose , by writing ...
and by strutting my ass in a crowded mall...

I will call my mall-rat friend.

Philippine Area of Responsibility

2006-11-21T15:46:00.000+12:00

"Team, Dress-down request for tonight was disapproved by Ms. Cheesecake. Please come to work in business attire".

I had my casual-looking pair of pants rolled-up above my knees as I prepare myself to brave a knee-deep murky (yucky) flood. I try my very best to take my mind off such an ultra-pathetic situation. I even imagined dancing with Gene Kelly and Fred Astaire ala-Singing in the Rain. And you know what, it just didnt work!

While most Filipinos are inside their houses enjoying supper and watching their favorite primetime soap, I am battling a heavy downpour and being blown in four different directions by such a nasty wind. I know I shouldn't be even complaining! I am aware that, on an average, 20 to 25 typhoons visit or should I say "ravage" our little tropical paradise in a year. That doesn't include yet ITCZ, low pressure area, and cold fronts that develop within the Philippine Area of Responsibility.The letters of the alphabet may not be even enough to give names to these typhoons and the creative people from PAGASA may soon run out of cute and amusing names for these tropical depressions.

So here I am, waiting for my ride to come. I am getting late for work and my umbrella offers very little protection. And to my surprise, a car pulled up infront of me, and a group of Asian-looking foreigners took pictures of us pedestrians wading in muddy flood. I was there, right in the middle of the group. I resisted the urge to grab their digital cameras and smash it right in front of their car's windshield because it might bring me more trouble. I remained motionless, pretending that I am oblivious to what's going on. That the sidewalk, teeming with people waiting for their rides or just simply waiting for the rain to subside a bit ,is currently the subject of their curiosity.

Heck, If I knew that this is going to happen, I should have worn my evening gown...

JADED LI'L JILL

2006-11-21T15:36:00.000+12:00

"Why do we have to use detergent for my hair? My hair is getting stiff and coarse everytime I wash it with detergent. Can't I shampoo my hair everyday?"
"Detergent is good for your hair. It kills the lice before it even hatch from their eggs.If you don't stop asking silly questions, your lice will bring you on top of a lice-infested mountain!"

My mother must have had close encounters with these lice or maybe she's got a knack for weaving stories or maybe it was just my hyperactive imagination.But I end up having nightmares of Lice-landia where I will scream my lungs out till I wake up falling from my bed dripping with something called "piss".(The same detergent I use to wash my hair, will be used to wash the my beddings and pants, dripping with piss the night before.)
I must have gone tired asking the mentioned question while washing my hair with detergent. I have gotten used to it. I started to view my weekly shampoo schedule every monday as a hedonistic or self-indulgent act, that I shiver with guilt just the mere thought of it.

Then I started to hate the neighborhood girls. With their shiny long hair which is either worn down, or up in pig tails or pony tails, they are just such a pain in the neck to look at. They play all day with their "Darbie Dolls" and have picnics with their fancy tea set.

So I ended up being with the neighborhood boys. We will spend our afternoons hurling waterbombs at each other and run after one another till we are short of breath. I became one of the boys---stinking with piss ,with coarse and stiff hair and a plan to bring the neighborhood girls down to the dust.

I launched a perfect plan. I took note of the girls' pattern of activities and I found out at certain time of the day, they all go inside the host's house to powder their noses. The neighborhood boys were with me. I told them that these girls all go inside at certain time to plan on how they can conquer the grounds that we use to play wargames on. I told them that once they had possession of the grounds, the neighborhood girls will turn it into a nice little garden, where everyone is required to behave like a true lady or gentleman. And to stop that plan,we need to cut their "Darbie Dolls' " hair and scatter it all over the ground. I know that it was a fool-proof plan. The neighborhood boys agreed to do it one afternoon, the neighborhood girls were playing with their "Darbie Dolls". On cue, they ravaged on the poor dolls' hair and made sure all dolls receive the same treatment.

The scheme was carried on as planned. When the girls came back from the powder room, their dolls were as bald as Lex Luthor in Superman Returns.I made sure that the neighborhood boys were out of sight after they accomplished their mission. But I did get a nice view of what happened while I was perched on a branch of a mango tree.Their faces were as bleak as mine when my mother told me that she can't afford to buy me a "Darbie Doll."

I guess, I learned early in life that poverty and economic disparity is something that I should deal with and face squarely.