Clattering Knives and Forks

Despite the setting sun of Arroyo’s term, one bombarded with rain, thunderstorm and mostly clouds of doubt and obscurity, the sun hasn’t risen yet—or maybe it never had. Though Estrada’s dethronement, and Arroyo’s crowning was nostalgic to the historic signature of Cory Aquino’s triumph against a dictator, the image of a queen still remains with Aquino, while the riches of a queen is displayed by Arroyo.

Perhaps the fireworks and celebration of the ‘true new year’ should come with the official announcement of a new president, and not with the transition of 2009-2010. Or perhaps the mere confirmation that an electronic election will push through is enough for the Philippines to light up the sky, sing or shriek karaoke, bump overflowing beer, dance tribal rituals beside a camp fire, or at a P500-worth bar entrance—in whatever manner people would want to celebrate the exercise of their right to vote, the right to have a voice. And a fitting ‘medya noche’ should be as savoury and gluttonous as Gloria Macapagal Arroyo’s, and her entourage, dinner at Bobby Van’s in Washington DC during their US trip.

But let’s give PGMA the credit she deserves. Her travels have yielded investments, strengthen ties and relations, and even freed sentenced OFWs as a presidential favor. This wouldn’t have been possible if she didn’t personally visited countries to endorse what the Philippines can offer and address the needs of her countrymen.

As all forms of media, critique and magnify the travel expenses, shouldn’t we ask, what do our neighbors and the rest of the world think about us? A country with an international debt, spending money on luxurious country-hopping and unnecessary ‘infomercials’—this is money that could’ve been spent on more beneficial projects or even used to pay our debts. 

And yes, PGMA’s speeches, during these expeditions, were filled with words of promise and truth of how foreign investors would benefit from including our humble archipelago in their business outlines. She may have succeeded in talking with words—but she failed to speak with her actions.

In Cory’s words, “I did not come from a rich country, why should I be someone I’m not.” And these words came after the criticism that she always wear the same yellow dress—which she never was ashamed of, and even welcomed the ‘frowned-upon’ observation with open arms and a smiling unhurt pride.

Regardless where the money is coming from, letting the more credible persons debate on that matter, to the eyes of a layman—it will always appear that the money is used from the country’s fund. This is also the reason why elective officials are reprimanded not to dabble in the business field to clear their slate, as government officials, against dubious interpretation.

Now they go off explaining the budget and its nitty-gritty mostly in English, and worse, jargons, that not all Filipinos can understand. They could’ve avoided this attempted recovery for an aftershock by exuding humility and not copying the lifestyle of the rich and famous. More so, their true economic status should’ve been immaterial, it’s like living in social caste system all over again. In the reiterating concept in the field of healthcare, and the most often overlooked proven theory, “Prevention is better than cure.”

We are not a rich country—in terms of financial underpinning. Moreover, we are among the shameful topnotchers of ‘corrupt’ countries. Although the law, the constitution, what it stands for, does not take that into account, it still expounds the need for elective officials to emanate a lifestyle of moderation—but the thing is, we have already been branded as such—and our so-called leaders still have the audacity to display such a luxurious lifestyle.

What about considering all these things before eating a $150 meal, $245 with wine? And if the reason for satisfying their appetite with such cost—enough for a family of three to survive for a month—is because they’re part of the President’s delegation which makes it “nakakahiya” or shameful to seek a less expensive cuisine, then maybe they should always keep a graphic and detailed picture of Filipinos below the poverty line, struggling to make both ends meet, suffering from famine, and place it on the glorious ‘china’ plate before eating.

A picture of the truth—as an appetizer.

(photo from spot.ph) 

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Giving Up Medicine

It’s funny how things work out. For the entirety of my third to fourth year college, I’ve been having an internal debate whether to pursue Medicine after Nursing or find an alternate route—which may either be a complete reroute or a parallel avenue. These pertain to finding a career beyond the field of medicine and health care or following the dictates of my academe as a Nurse.

With much weight burdening, heavier by the moment, as if the toils and trivialities of being a graduating student nurse and the works of a student publication’s managing editor aren’t heavy enough, the silent argument between me and the rest of my three names seem to get fatter every day nearing graduation. The conflict starts to identify itself to a cow, grazing with every bit of encouragement from my family and friends—that I should become a doctor.

For nights, or rather dawns as I long for a two-hour sleep, I would ponder. What should I do? What should I be? Until thoughts dilute to—I should already be sleeping! I’ll be awake in an hour! How should I sleep?!? I let myself run the course and perpetually postponed the decision that I had to make. There were too much going on, a lot of hustle and bustle that I was trying to cope with. It was almost topsy-turvy—the deadlines of the newspaper, the tremendous amount of studying for board-type exams, the assignments and requirements for graduation, the fees needed to be paid, the requirements for the June board exam, the documents for the publication and a number of things I surprisingly survived through.

The day after Graduation day came. It was when I seriously pondered, thought, focused, and concentrated on making the decision that would have shaped my life. I asked myself solemnly, though my relatives were ‘singing’ or at that time someone was shrieking by the sound of it, should I become a doctor? Should I take up medicine?

The answer came to me as a gamble. I played lottery with my own future. I told myself, and a few other friends, but not instantly because I’m not a fan of personal Group Messages, “If” I pass the Nursing Board Exam for my first take—I will take up Medicine.

And I did. But when my mind was set to that goal, it was when everything started to change. I had to give it up. Maybe when I’m ready, and had more time because I need to go to work now, I’ll tell the story of why I had to give it up.

But don’t get me wrong, I’m merely expressing the fact that I won’t take up Medicine but it doesn’t mean that I’m too disappointed, it’s just that things work out for a reason, and that’s what I have to find out—what now, and what comes next.

(photo from http://www.inthesetimes.com/images/29/10/crossroads.jpg) 

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TV Series Review: La Corda d'Oro

Music is the language of the heart. To appreciate its existence, its presence in the air and its pseudo-physical feel embracing the listener— has no prerequisite. If you have an ear, a pair would be better of course, that would be enough to value, or experience music. But as progress would have it, neck-clicking dance steps, high energy moves, fast paced lockdowns are the current trend in expressing tunes. But La Corda d’Oro, an anime series, will remind its viewers of the ethereal beauty and irreplaceable artistry of classical music conveyed through a medium which is familiar to the youth. I have to admit that it’s a sort of a chick flick, it has to sell and one way or another it will have a target market. But what entices me is the classical music plus the wee bit exaggeration of an anime series—a well-balanced formula with enough succulence to make its viewer ask for more. It may not be mouthwatering, but it sure is worth scanning the whole menu for. This series has the ability to make you want to pick up a violin and start gliding on the notes produced by its strings, pound on a piano to express a piece’s climax or melodically exhale  a mesmerizing continuous tune from a flute. So if you’re tired of the fighting and magical spells of other anime series, try this one out, you won’t regret it.

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Movie Review: Big Eden

Sometimes we find ourselves wandering, leaving home to look for a home only to return to the place we left. Sometimes we find ourselves asking, asking a question when we already know the answer. And sometimes we find it hard to admit who we are, to the people whom we love the most, who knows better than anyone who we really are. These were the conflicts faced by Henry Hart, a successful artist in New York, who remains blind with the more important things in life.
Big Eden is a gay film. What sets it apart from other gay flicks I’ve seen is the absence of cliché and scenes abundantly present in a queer reel. Carnal desire, flaming passion and utter display of skin, sweat and pumping actions, have become a basic commodity, or bread and butter, of homosexual onscreen portrayal. Try asking someone and mention a few queer titles and ask them what’s the first thing that comes to their mind, I bet it would either be the guy—or the scene.

But these are all absent in Big Eden. The film’s outstanding quality is its non-superficiality, giving more substance to the life as a third gender. It wasn’t also grand, the delivery and storyline is subtle. Evidently, the film was delivered parallel to the world we live in. That the weight of being gay is not with sensuality, but the hardships of multiple conflicts, the hiding, the secrecy, the control, and more importantly—the longing.
It is a recommendable watch. But just to give you a heads up, the characters aren’t like the hot guys that other gay indie films would usually have in their cast and used to sell the film. Bottomline is, this movie isn’t marketed by sex, but by sensibility.

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Nobody But You

I've been inflicted by the LSS (Last Song Syndrome) disease. I just kept on hearing this in my head. Maybe it's about its catchy tone despite not being able to understand the lyrics, or maybe it's the simple but cute dance steps on the video. I DON'T KNOW. All I know is I like it. Or maybe I'm sick of it since this song's airtime is oversaturating. In any case, enjoy the video.

Here's the lyrics by the way.

You Know I still Love You Baby.
And it will never change.

I want nobody nobody But You, I want nobody nobody But You
Nan dareun sarameun sirheo niga animyeon sirheo
I want nobody nobody nobody nobody

Nan sirheunde wae nal mireonaeryeogo hani jakku naemareun deutji anko
Wae ireoke dareun namjaege nal bonaeryeo hani eotteoke ireoni

Nal wihae geureotan geumar
Neon bujokhadaneun geumar
Ijen geumanhae neon nareul aljanha wae wonhajido annneungeol gangyohae

I want nobody nobody But You I want nobody nobody But You
Nan dareun sarameun sirheo niga animyeon sirheo
I want nobody nobody nobody nobody

I want nobody nobody But You I want nobody nobody But You
Nan dareun sarameun sirheo niga animyeon sirheo
I want nobody nobody nobody nobody

Nan joheunde nan haengbokhande neoman isseumyeon dwae deo baralge eomneunde
Nugul mannaseo haengbokharan geoya nan neol tteonaseo haengbokhal su eobseo

Nal wihae geureotan geumar
Neon bujokhadaneun geumar
Mari an doeneun mariran geol wae molla niga eobsi eotteoke haengbokhae

I want nobody nobody But You I want nobody nobody But You
Nan dareun sarameun sirheo niga animyeon sirheo
I want nobody nobody nobody nobody

I want nobody nobody But You I want nobody nobody But You
Nan dareun sarameun sirheo niga animyeon sirheo
I want nobody nobody nobody nobody

I don't want nobody body body.I don't want nobody body
Naneun jeongmal niga animyeon niga animyeon sirtan mallya a~

I want nobody nobody But You I want nobody nobody But You
Nan dareun sarameun sirheo niga animyeon sirheo
I want nobody nobody nobody nobody

I want nobody nobody But You I want nobody nobody But You
Nan dareun sarameun sirheo niga animyeon sirheo
I want nobody nobody nobody nobody

RAP
Back to the days when we were so young and wild and free
Modeunge neomuna kkumman gatatdeon geuttaero doragago sipeunde
Wae jakku nareul mireonaeryeo hae
Why do you push me away.
I don't want nobody nobody
Nobody nobody but you.

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Livewire: Filipino Homicide

As part of Mission 347, 3 updates 4 7 days, I'm posting one of my Livewire columns, published in the January 2009 issue of the FEU Advocate.

A rejected cadaver left to rot and decay despite its historic battles—a prophetic image of the Filipino language pushed to the edge of a cliff by its own kin, nearing a kiss with reality.

Cebu Representative Eduardo Gullas penned a bill, House Bill 5619, the proposed act strengthening the use of English as the medium of instruction, which has already passed the House of Representatives, mandating that English be the only medium of teaching. In this bill which has received many scathing remarks from professors, students and columnists, such as Philippine Star columnist William Esposo who stated that Gullas’ bill will lead to national suicide. English will be the only medium of teaching nationwide upon grade 3, thus, superseding Department of Education’s Order No. 25 which mandates bilingualism in teaching. Gullas’ frame of thought which led to the inking of the bill is one of concern to unemployment and for Filipinos meeting the global standard. 

English is gradually devouring, with effortless mastication, Filipino as the primary language. More so, this bill’s endorsement lessens the distance between knife and wrist. To even attempt to prove this point is like eating ice cream at Baguio during the once-in-a-blue-moon 6.3 degrees mark. Despite nakedness of truth, it is of course inexcusable to sharpen the tip of this ‘ball’point pen.

No single broadsheet national daily is written in the national language compared to other ‘more progressive’ Asian countries. The Midas-like lifestyle of the bastardized siblings; the older of the two, ‘Tag-Lish’, and the toddler, ‘Eng-Galog’, with ‘coño talk’ as his nickname, who’s bound to overshadow his elder brother, are both reared by gossips and unhealthy trends. FEU and FEUCSO, as well as other educational institutions, campaigning English as if it’s a losing candidate when in the contrary, it’s Barack Obama going against Manny Pacquiao. Pinoy television series reduced to fantasy and redundancy, as well as the actors, in storylines, or more so, American TV shows with superimposed ‘Pinoy’ at the beginning to make it appear more ‘pango’ and ’kayumanggi’ and the premature delivery of ‘Filipinized’ or ‘Tagalized’ versions of Fergie’s Clumsy, Rihanna’s Umbrella and Leona Lewis’ Bleeding Love—all three sending global postcards which reads, in bright neon colors, that we are ill with bruised creativity and paralyzed originality, a seemingly malignant cancer of colonialism and the aging misconception that fluency in English equates to intelligence and excellence. And finally, this being written in English, instead of Filipino, to nourish this obese frame of thought.

In the first ‘Mano Po’, Maricel Soriano stated an unarguably strong pulling force which is hopefully the mindset that shreds the bill into oblivion, she was trying to decide whether she should leave the Philippines for good or move to China, her character’s descent. What made her stay was the thought, that when she thinks, the voice in her head is not Chinese but rather Filipino. 

Case in point, educators should play with their students’ strength. A school-age child thinks and understands better in his dialect—the language of his mind. Therefore, to facilitate accommodation and learning, teachers should present it in a form familiar to the child. Even tertiary level students have better absorption of a concept explained in Filipino than in English, and to think, those that will be affected by the bill are in primary. If that’s not illogical, then I don’t know what is. 

Introducing Science and the Milky Way Galaxy is already insisting fruits and green leafy veggies as a kid’s afternoon snack. What Gullas’ bill would do is ask the child to go on a South Beach diet. 

It is also hard to ignore, that out of 238 members of the House of Congress there are only 36 who can truly salvage the language. And there are 202, who’re stagnated on the idea that English fluency is the Darna, or Superman for them, of Philippine education.

Such flow of thought remains married to colonialism and Filipinos’ pseudo-freedom. Push this bill through and eventually Esposo’s prediction will trump Madame Auring’s and Nostradamus’. English will supersede, dominate and even erase, as it is already felt, dialects and Filipino. If such damage can be done to Filipino, rooted from the Tagalog dialect, which is spoken by the whole archipelago, to what extent can it do to the dialects of the minority—seemingly sending these dialects as castaways to Survivor.

Dr. Jose Rizal once said he who does not love his own language is worse than a smelly fish. One cannot love his own language if he learns a foreign one. And if Rizal also holds true to his words that the youth is the hope of the nation’s future, then the unfortunate youth encapsulated by Gullas’ bill will bring a Westernized future and not one of originality and rich culture.

To the Filipino who is most literate in English or in any other languages, does your mind speak to you in any of those? Or did you have your nose lifted and swallowed handfuls of Glutathione to undo your own lineage?

Does your mind also speak in Filipino? Let it talk to me at edge_guevara@yahoo.com

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Like Losing a Limb

My laptop crashed. It’s like dying, without the pain, the near-death experience, and the eternal immobility and unconsciousness. But with the full blast experience of the suffering, the agony and every stage of the grieving process.

On the crime scene, there was no evidence as to how my laptop crashed. This was during the time that I was reviewing for the Nursing board exam and I was living at Galicia near España, Manila. It was my first week at the dormitory. Seven entire days of no TV, no internet and just books and reviewers—it’s like joining Survivor, without the ugly mudslinging and inhumane betrayal. Well at least you could imagine my craving, an ardent desire to just lie on my bed, hold the remote and go online, but as luck would have it, my laptop just wouldn’t turn on. When I brought it to my cousin, who is an expert on computers, he told me that the motherboard crashed—and I burned. And as if that wasn’t enough, our cable was disconnected, and there are only two channels accessible on it—TV5 and GMA7.

So there was the denial, as I tried and tried..and tried to turn my laptop on. And there was anger, I didn’t come home for three weeks. I bargained to trade, my neighbor’s noisy dog for my laptop, I would gladly perform a sacrificial ritual (barking at no one at 4 am! Sheesh! And I sleep at 3!). I was depressed for 10 long long..hours. Pretty short time to be depressed right? Well I had to get real, I need to focus on my review. And alas was acceptance, I have accepted the fact that I can no longer savor the privileges I had before, mouth-watering cable TV, luscious and crisp DSL connection, heaven on earth.

I just wired my brain into thinking that all that was meant to tell me that I really need to study for the board exam. And true enough, my sacrifices paid off.
Thankfully, I was able to backup half of my arm, or files. It’s quite goosebumps-generating to think that despite the crash, my cousin was able to recover most of the contents of my hard disk. This wasn’t the first time that it crashed, which is why I learned how to backup files—the hard way. And surprisingly, I’m on my way to recovery. It almost seem like the crash was really intended to be just a sign and not something that will destroy what I’ve lived for in my whole stint in the FEU Advocate.

By far, the greatest damage that that misfortune had caused is the stagnancy of my blog. For almost four months now, my blog hasn’t moved an inch. No updates whatsoever. But I intend to change that now. I will be starting a mission, Mission 347, 3 updates 4 7 days or 3 updates per week. I will be posting published Advocate articles, if I find them, my columns, and a whole new lot of topics which are not too personal anymore. I think I have done enough of that now. In any case, Mission 347 (I got the idea from www.aubreythinksthat.blogspot.com) is a go.

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