heartshape

I almost didn't notice the brief disturbing chills that ran up my spine while skimming through my high school batchmates' Friendster profiles.Was it nostalgia? It was indeed a long time ago. I suddenly recalled our graduation ceremony, complete with tears and hugs, almost five years ago. Just thinking about it made me shiver.

There were those who clearly stood the test of time and continued to look as if high school hadn't passed. Some undeniably evolved judging by the changes in wardrobe and yes, the mature expressions etched on their faces. Back in high school, I dreaded my twenty something years, a time I once thought was old and scary.

(v.)Informal To be full of desire or eagerness for something (American Heritage Dictionary)

my fiance

Damn, she's lucky...grrr...


hmm...buti pa ang cellphone...

Kabankalan, Negros Occidental (October 16, 2007)

an excerpt from the million passages spoken to promote dear ol' Silliman:



"I'm graduating soon. And of all the things I cannot forget about my stay in Silliman, I consider three experiences to be the most memorable:

I was a freshman in college, eager to try everything but afraid of sailing into uncharted waters at the same time. My mom helped me settle into my dorm - what was to be my home for a year - and by the time class started and my role as a clueless, curious freshman officially began, she packed her bags and went back to our hometown Butuan. It would've been an ordinary farewell, a silent rite of passage from girlhood to maturity. Yet instead of grinning ear to ear for my newfound independence, I realized how terribly alone I was, still unable to channel my loner instincts into positive outcomes, and cried.



Life moved on, and had it not been for my dormitory experience, I wouldn't have known the very special people who became my campus family. Being in college means discovering opportunities, meeting new people, and honing your talents. And if it requires you to venture out of your comfort zones, there's nothing more rewarding than facing a challenge head on and emerging victorious.

Another memorable experience that I will surely not forget is my being awarded a foreign exchange scholarship to Ferris University in Japan. For a year, Michelle and I were granted an all-expense paid stay in one of the most expensive schools in Japan, a chance to tour the country, and several opportunities to learn the language, join conferences, and promote the Philippines. It was hardly the conventional learning method but we learned a lot anyway. From the differences of both cultures to mastering our fears, we've grown out of our shells and managed to dance through life.

The foreign exchange scholarship is just one of the many scholarship programs offered by Silliman. Those belonging to the top 100 SUAPE passers get the chance to become a Portal scholar with a 75% decrease in tuition fees, while to those with athletic prowess, the university gladly endows athletic scholarships. Other offerings include Academic scholarship, honor scholarship, and band scholarship.




My third most unforgettable memory was of my joining various campus organizations, one of which is the Corps of Campus Ambassadors, that enriched my campus life. As important as classroom instruction is, one can never disagree with the fact that extra-curricular activities help boost hidden skills not honed in a classroom. One learns of his leadership abilities through cooperation with his fellow organization members. A student singer, dancer, or theater performer doesn't improve his/her talents without joining related endeavors, and those with exceptional writing and speaking prowess doesn't grow without mingling with those of the same kind.

Learning doesn't end in the classroom. It doesn't stop when you graduate. You simply move on to a bigger and harsher classroom which is the real world. You don't stop acquiring knowledge for refusing to do so leaves you behind."

Research Points

● By 2004, a possible collapse of the sugar industry by 2010 is feared when all tariffs on imports of agricultural produce including sugar are removed.

● The government does not also have a comprehensive program to support the sugar industry.

● Smuggling of sugar by big people in the industry and government (ex. Kraft Foods Philippines is one of the threats to the country's declining sugar industry.

● Most often small sugar land owners associations are not consulted on matters that concern the industry. Industry leaders seem only concerned with their own interests and survival, unmindful of small sugar landowners who need more support than them.

● Representatives of these associations expressed their need of leaders who care for the welfare of the entire industry and the people not just their own interests.

● Reports further stipulated that the government should convene an assembly of more than 150 sugar associations nationwide, from small to big ones, to ensure a truly broad and democratic consultation among all the stakeholders in the industry.

● Sugar Regulatory Administration (SRA) is said to continue to impose a levy of Php2 per kilogram of sugar produce, which can be unfavorable for small-time farmers.

● Ethanol as alternative fuel may be the key to the sugar industry's redemption. Demand for sugar will increase but instead of producing raw sugar as finished product, the sugar industry will be geared towards processing sugar directly through ethanol fuel.

● In 2006, the Manila Times columnist Ma. Isabel Ongpin commended the Philippine Sugar Research Institute (Philsurin) for reestablishing competence in the sugar industry by analyzing the causes of low productivity and investing in advanced equipment, biotechnology and intensive research and development thereby generating impressive results.

● The Comprehensive Agrarian Reform Program (CARP) may be beneficial to some extent but it somehow failed because the government didn't provide poor farmers with access to capital and subsidies to make their lands productive.

● Centralized procurement and sale fertilizers could save sugar producers by earning a lot. Apparently, government agencies are still buying fertilizers from local private traders which normally charge higher prices.

● Possibly due to the Asian Development Bank's (ADB) reported urging on the Philippine government executives, the agriculture sector's budget is proposed to be increased to Php21.7 billion in 2008 from the current Php18.9 billion.

● The sector eyes biotechnology as a means of raising farmer's income and knowledge in agriculture, and spur economic growth in the countryside.

● While boosting production, research and development intensifies in various projects including: propagation of rice variety, genetically improved coconut, papaya, and abaca, disease-resistant seaweed, pest prevention, massive cultivation of malunggay, papaya, and other fruits and vegetables with active ingredients sought by pharmaceutical companies that are into nature-based products.

August 28-31, 2007 (Development Economics)


Our teachers’ knack for bargaining may have paid off else we wouldn’t have reached 3 far off destinations and spent the night in an expensive resort with less than Php 5,000 but I didn’t realize the consequences until it was too late. Too late in the sense that I scrimped on preparations and didn’t bring enough supplies (medicine, water, tissue, crackers, etc.) to sustain me for what I’ve found out to be the longest road trip I’ve taken.

Our itinerary basically included Bacolod, Boracay, and Iloilo where we were to spend the first of our trip’s two-night duration. We were officially on the go at around 1:30 in the morning of August 28 and hardly paying attention to the loud movie on the bus, I dozed off along with most of the excited travelers.

If Cebu takes pride in being the Queen City of the South then Bacolod is surely its king. Having reached the metropolis after a 6-hour travel from Dumaguete, we noticed the sun beginning to swallow the last hint of darkness promising a great first day for our trip.

Bacolod

About the time one usually expects a sprawling investment hub to be absorbed in a hectic rush hour, the city seemed surprisingly calm. Wide streets were almost devoid of traffic making it easy for our bus drivers to maneuver their vehicles. Maybe it was a holiday or how else could I justify the absence of frenzy at 7 to 8 o’clock in the morning - usually the time when both students and members of the labor force rush to their respective destinations.

Straight after breakfast, we visited an out-of-the-way handicrafts factory called Tumandok which in the local dialect means “native”. The name couldn’t have suited them better as the organization specializes on reusing otherwise discarded items and transforms them into export-worthy masterpieces.

Greeting us upon arriving at their modest factory were the smell of rugby, paint, or varnish seemingly alien to handicraft workers concentrating their way through piles of coconut shells, twigs, and other indigenous materials that were otherwise considered trash. One of the workers was focusing on attaching small – about a square centimeter – coconut shells to what I thought was a big shallow bowl (also made from coconut) that I felt guilty for disturbing her even to ask questions. The process was clearly arduous. After undergoing through several processes as laminating and spraying, the piles of raw materials were turned into exquisite furniture pieces and elegant home decors ready for shipment.

The display area was jammed with finished products which have come a long way from their original indigenous form. Jewelry boxes made of capiz shells, vase made from coconut twigs, and coconut bark-turned-lampshades were among their best sellers, noting huge department store chains as SM and Rustan’s to carry the bulk of domestic orders, and China as their number 1 foreign importer.

What was originally established by the elite wives of sugar barons in the midst of an economically devastated Negros Occidental in the 1980s, Tumandok continuously provides employment to Negreses while helping the environment and promoting the products of Negros. Operating for around 20 years now,currently with 85 employees strong, it firmly highlights creativity as the number one capital for aspiring entrepreneurs.



Manufacturing Precious Moments

If Boracay’s unmatched publicity lures guests with its classy Bohemian ambiance, the next resort we visited in New Washington, Aklan is an entirely different world to navigate. A double A resort recently given the Agora award for marketing, Sampaguita Gardens indeed offered us a way to a unique, fun experience. In addition to the spa (with each room’s interior arranged differently every day) and butterfly farm, top-billing its popularity was the manufacturing headquarters for the well-loved teardrop-eyed Precious Moments dolls.

Created by American artist Samuel J. Butcher 30 years ago originally as gifts for family and friends, Precious Moments is among the most recognized art in the world, sharing messages of loving, caring and sharing with interested collectors. Who would’ve thought the endearing characters in cross-stitch patterns and Christian books are manufactured in the Philippines?

“In the early 1970s, Sam and a friend started a small company to produce his Precious Moments art on a line of cards and posters, calling their company Jonathan & David. They took their goods to the annual Christian Booksellers Association Convention in Anaheim and their tiny booth was filled with enthusiastic retailers wanting to order the new line. The crowd became so large that neighboring vendors came over to help the two young men write orders.

Shortly thereafter, Sam was approached by Enesco Corporation to develop a three-dimensional figurine based on his artwork titled “Love One Another.” Sam was so overwhelmed when he saw the first porcelain sample that he fell to his knees and wept. It was the beginning of a phenomenon for both Sam and the gift industry.

By the end of 1978, the first twenty-one original Precious Moments figurines were introduced to the market. The response to the collection was incredible. People began to write to Sam, telling him about how the Precious Moments figurines had touched their lives in a moving and heartfelt way. In less than a year after their introduction, demand was overwhelming. The success of the Precious Moments figurines was amazing, yet Sam never lost touch with his original purpose to create art which combined his heartfelt emotions with his abiding faith (www.preciousmoments.com)”

Our tour of the Precious Moments collection room was both inspiring and scary. The room spoke of Sam’s faith and conviction, judging on the collection’s biblical themes. As interesting as it was to see Noah’s Ark in soft-bisque porcelain and to touch the most expensive piece (Php35,000 for a figurine that fits in an adult’s palm) in the room, the prospect of breaking even the smallest objects (Christmas tree hangings which cost around Php1,500) was really scary. Our tour guide and Sampaguita Gardens manager Glen even said that in the effort of producing a worthy creation, figurines with the slightest imperfection are deliberately broken.

Among the highlights of the tour were the Christmas House, a lovely pink and green American architecture that was both a doll museum and coffee shop, with a 1932 Ford prototype parked on its garage, and the Samuel J. Butcher mansion, a classic piece that can rival museums anytime, and was undoubtedly my favorite among all the places we’ve been through in our field trip.

Leading the way to the mansion, Glen showed us the authentic collections of the Precious Moments creator. On one part of the house was a Louise the XIV armoire and a 300-year-old Thai lounge chair, and on another a luxurious Swarovski chandelier and an antique cabinet preserving centuries worth of wardrobe memories. Butcher’s expatriate years in Thailand explained the many Thai masterpieces like the gigantic urns gracing the entrance contributing to the mansion’s old Asian feel. Various paintings and traditional wall decors somehow spoke of Butcher’s lifestyle and thirst for adventure and eclecticism. The master’s bedroom was like a mini museum from the antique bed, to the US derived flooring and Malaysian based panels, to the authentic Persian carpet on the floor.

Our sumptuous lunch by the pool signaled the tour’s end. Sampaguita Gardens was a colorful paradise for children and the young at heart, and to say that I enjoyed it more than I did Boracay is an understatement.

Cruising through Iloilo

The roughly triangular shaped island of Panay is home to several encounters worth a thousand treasures to thrill seekers and soul searchers alike. Any of the four provinces (Aklan, Antique, Capiz, Iloilo) composing the island boasts of beautiful beaches and lively fiestas with welcoming aura more than matching its intriguing history and penchant for celebrations. Once the seat of the Philippine government under the Spaniards, it showcases a heterogeneous breed of tradition, culture, and personality.

As the jump-off point to other major marvels of the island, the province of Iloilo is unmistakably vast, still full of untapped resources and unfilled spaces real estate investors would die to acquire. It is a vibrant community in its own right, with a huge super mall commanding the city center and a number of high rise structures towering over other commercial establishments on promising sites.

I came there expecting to see a bustling cityscape but was more amazed than disappointed to see a sprawling simplicity instead of the crowded metropolis similar to that of Cebu. Iloilo City was one of the key cities in the Visayas but instead of the usual ruckus expected of urban areas, the smooth and uncomplicated exchange of everyday transactions was evident from afar.

Cruising along the streets was made swift by wide accessible roads, and the clean surroundings more than made up for old structures lining the highways. On top of the many schools I’ve observed, old churches flaunting their intricate Spanish architecture graced every corner while historical mansions belonging to the prominent families of the province stood proudly amid its laidback modernity.

The influence of colonial Spain doesn’t end there. Luring visitors every fourth week of January is its famous Dinagyang Festival, the city’s own version of the Ati-atihan commemorating the Christianization of the natives with a very colourful parade of participants dancing to the distinctive “Hala bira!” chants.

While huge banking and commercial institutions dominated the spacious inner city, numerous rice paddies and cornfields constituting the bulk of Panay’s agricultural provisions extended into the outskirts of Iloilo. As the Philippines’ third largest source of rice, Panay was recently considered as a back up provider should Region 3 fall short of supplying the entire country’s demand for it.

As a testament to the province’s suitable site for agricultural development, a 10-hectare model farm in one of our main stops in the town of Guimbal granted us access to zero-waste environment-friendly approaches to horticulture. Garin Farm was a microcosm of the entire rural Panay in itself.

Inside the seemingly theme park inspired farm where each element of agriculture had a spot, the area was precisely divided for livestock (cows, water buffalos, chickens, and pigs, among others were fenced accordingly), fruit trees (each having their own patch), vegetables beds, and dairy products processing plant, among others. Equipped with a canteen, horse riding facilities, and cottages for overnight guests, it was almost an Agriculture Museum than a mere farm. The improvised garden made from reused backyard items such as rubber tires and plastic containers was easily my favorite.

By the time we got to Racso’s Woodland, yet another resort – this time with a mini-zoo and shooting range – where we were to spend the night, the last of Garin Farm that I could remember was eating the best ice cream bar I’ve ever tasted.

Boracay Baby

Excited chatters marked the second day of the trip and aiming to reach Caticlan-Boracay by noon, we were well on the way by 6:30, unusually early for usually late risers but predictably so because our next destination was the most anticipated. As our vans speeded along the Antique-Aklan road, counting bridges and admiring the scenery, rural fields spanned majestically, sharing the landscape with the looming mountains on the background and the clear sea on the other side.

The sun was intensely searing by the time we got ready to board the Boracay-bound ferry from Caticlan’s jetty port. And after 6 hours on the van, nothing excited me more than exploring the 7-km stretch of Boracay’s white sand beach.

One of the pillars of the Philippine tourism industry, Boracay was home to what was once acclaimed as the best beach in the world. It boasts of around 300,000 tourists on the average and the versatile events held during peak seasons. It was segmented into 3 stations, understandably so to cater to different classes of tourists. While the third station was good enough for individuals on a tight budget and the second for groups willing to shell out a few extra dollars, the first station with its extensive shoreline and internationally recognized hotels like the Regency and Mandarin was where opulent celebrities and foreigners and members of the upper echelon unwind.

The pristine waters of Boracay and everything that goes with the name was one of the reasons why many Economics 56 students joined the field trip. After checking in and eating our lunch at Station 3’s Queen’s Beach Resort, we attended a brief lecture on Boracay and the country’s tourism industry. I was surprised that with all the publicity the island’s been acquiring, it was second only to Cebu in terms of the number of tourists, and was even at par with other world-class resorts in Palawan and Mindoro. It made me realize that perhaps the island generating revenues for the province of Aklan was more a brand than an escape.

What attracted me to the island in the first place: the white sand beach, clear immaculate waters, or bragging rights? As we leisurely ambled along the beach, we noticed that the establishments seemingly progress with the change in stations, not to mention the quality of sand. Where station 3’s sand quality compared to that of Siquijor, station 1’s was as fine as flour! So fine and famous that a Php25,000 penalty was purportedly imposed to those caught “smuggling” sand out of the island.

Indeed, there wasn’t anything magical about Boracay, only a long established reputation as a haven for tourists. While Frisbee and water sports enthusiasts find Boracay a blissful respite from urban complexities, I’d probably be bored (not to mention broke) after spending a week or two in the island. I wish we could’ve stayed longer though, not because I couldn’t get enough of the sea but for sheer desire to explore the entire island. The lecturer mentioned the high migration cases from the mainland to Boracay due to promising job opportunities and I thought it would’ve been more satisfying to assess the employment situation for myself.

Apparently, the contrasting features outside the resorts should be enough to bother the tourism authorities. On one side was a high-profile mansion owned by a public official while across from it are rundown shacks owned by locals, the island was teeming with business establishments – hotels, shopping centers, bars, and restaurants – owned by no less than outside investors. The locals benefit from the tourism industry as mere employees. Surely, they get the opportunity to bask in the sun and enjoy the same quality of water and sand tourists go to Boracay for but are they given equal chances of enjoying the amenities offered by international resort-hotels? Absolutely not if they belong to the lower sectors of Boracay society. Doesn’t it bother the authorities that most islanders couldn’t even enjoy the entire island as consumers and not mere spectators and workers of wealthy tourists? It’s almost like a factory whose workers couldn’t even afford to buy the products of their labor.

My hours spent in Boracay would’ve been unremarkable if Cyril Patriarca and I hadn’t come across a Thai lady while night swimming in front of the Regency. She introduced herself as Anna, a petite 27-year-old first time tourist vacationing with her American boyfriend. We were well beyond basic introductions and talking about the similarities of our nations when I realized our foreign friend was drunk. Apparently, she had a fight (bordering on racial dispute) with her boyfriend whom she described as “someone who thinks Americans are superior to Asians.” In hopes of comforting a possibly suicidal tourist, we accompanied and listened to her rant about her encounters with foreign men and the injustices of being helpless. It made me sympathize with her and other Filipino women under similar circumstances whose plight to raise their family’s condition of living is yet to be accepted by society.

I felt relieved that instead of some beach bum who might take advantage of the situation (case in point, she was showing off a few thousand peso bills enough for the whole Boracay to come running toward her), we were the ones who found her. My fun memories of Boracay ended with us taking Anna to her new hotel room (away from Regency) and waiting for her to call it a night. We refused the money she offered but accepted her gratitude, which was worth a thousand times more than paper bills.

I just had to write this...

As much as I hate to admit it, Poco's room is a bit more spic and span than mine. However, it is only so because:

a. He doesn't have a lot of stuff and his room is practically empty save for his bed, a two-seater table, a TV, and a water dispenser. Less stuff means more breathing space, and more breathing space apparently equals a clean and organized abode.

b. Our room only appears dirty and chaotic because Verna's stuff is lying around and is practically seen in every corner. But I'm trying to live with the fact that my roommate is sometimes a messy scatterbrain and that I musn't wait for her to pick a rug if I want to preserve my sanity. Given the chance to relive the moment, there's no way in hell I'm gonna be roommates with her... but I'd still sleep in her room though. Lord knows how much I love this adorable, cuddly she-bear of a lady.

c. Our floor would've been squeaky and heavenly polished if the above mentioned lady just remembered to sweep or wipe off dust from it everyday, or at the very least minded the small bits of mess she makes that horrifyingly accumulates at the end of the day.

d. I admit that my room doesn't have to be the cleanest and that not all people are like me. Yet it still annoys me that a self confessed obcompfreak cannot even be obsessive compulsive enough to be the best - at least where cleanliness is concerned.

e. Gosh it sometimes ticks me when I want to be the best at everything!

1. The country is under the highly centralized control of the military patronage system, a concept of oligarchy spawned by the early communist Khmer Rouge and the Pol Pot regime based on discipline and conformity.


2. The three problems arising from the crippled Cambodian environment include: distortion of social structures, social inequality, and lack of people's participation.


3. Cambodia is living through a vicious cycle of power-hungry military officials and warlords and its oppressed citizens refusing to trust anyone for fear of getting arrested.

Having emerged from a struggle against communism and absolute oligarchy, the aged Cambodians are far too traumatized to trust anyone as regards nation building. The lack of human resources is not so much a problem as having the capacity to use the existing human power. Concerned members of the academe both from Cambodia and the international community suggest ways to alleviate the unusual problem that has been inflicting Cambodia for several generations. Aside from gradually removing the military patronage system and establishing a democratic form of government - one that is not tainted with malice, greed, and megalomania, creating networks and strengthening linkages within local government units should be prioritized, and most importantly, bringing back the trust among people.

Mr. Estoconing asked how development can be achieved in an impossibly torn country like Cambodia with its high militaristic rule, xenophobic values, and widespread apathy. Regardless of its painful past and conforming present, instilling trust back to individuals remains to be the toughest challenge. I always believe that behind a properous country is a unified citizenry. And in the case of Cambodia, healing the bitterness of the past can be a good headstart.

Its about time for Cambodia to come out of its shell and show off their exotic cultural heritage. The country's sociopolitical aspect may need mending but culturally, Cambodia has so much to offer with its unique traditions, arts, and architecture, among others. They can even bank on their hideous yet interesting past and the fact that some areas considered as sacred still have landmines waiting to be stepped on. People live to tell stories and nothing excites tourists more than a story on struggle and survival. Surely, these Cambodians after having been imprisoned in their own land for so long would want to express themselves through their craft. Cambodian dances are fast getting into the international scene so why not capitalize on that?

Culture plays an important role in bridging the gap not only between the rich and poor but among all Cambodians. Whether in a form of song, dance, painting, sculpture, prayer, architecture, or oral lore, it encourages people to express themselves (and creatively at that) which in turn enhances self-esteem and confidence, an essential tool in a peaceful group participation. It may be a long process (who says healing isn't?) but at least culture binds the people and gives them something in common, leading to the path of unification.

***

hmm...I just felt like writing this so as not to soil my pride. I just had to prove myself that I actually learned something from the case on Cambodia; that no matter how I'm judge, I'm confident of my brain's capacity to stimulate and process ideas.

Forced
Claudine Lim
Obcompfreak


Coming home to a series of glitches isn’t exactly the therapeutic setting you think you deserve yet for some reasons you feel empty without the little misfortunes that fire up your otherwise bland existence.

At times you wonder how on earth you’re going to survive the upsetting course you only have half a heart to take. You’ve been playing the piano since you were three and would’ve definitely loved a taste of UP Conservatory of Music hadn’t your parents insisted on sending you to that prestigious Christian institution in Negros Oriental to take up (ahem…ahem…) Nursing. There are various reasons that propel you to excel and who knows you’re only here because you just wanted to step out of your folks’ shadow to show independence without needing to. But then again, maybe you’re just forced to live up to your family’s expectations or to choose what’s practical where money is a’ flowing.

You find yourself overran with subjects that you know are of little or no use to achieving your goals. You plead the conformists to please stop with the holistic education crap as they very well know that quite a number of students feel they could do away with the extra subjects on the prospectus, not to mention a reassuring cut on their tuition.

Your mood dampens when you are compelled to write something against your principles because it’s what your narrow-minded teacher wants to believe you’ve learned from him/her. Your flair for words becomes useless because as much as you want to give the divine (ha!) educator a piece of your radical mind, the last thing he/she wants is an opinion contrasting his/her own. You can always rise up to the challenge by roping in your own convictions. That is, if you’re strong-willed enough to see an unusually low mark on your grade sheet.

You rant about how your teacher’s soporific voice barely keeps you awake to understand the lessons, then the next thing you know you surprise yourself by laughing at another teacher’s corny bathroom jokes. You don’t know how it happens but you deliberately sit in front, make yourself noticed, and guess what, laugh (too unnaturally) at a funny story your teacher shares for the nth time. Your seatmate also laughs (too unnaturally) but unlike you, he’s just trying to be polite by giggling.

You’re finally free for the day. There’s still time to grab some Quesadillas or watch 1408 with your friends. But as you cheerfully amble along Langheim Road, you receive a text message from your on-and-off boyfriend, threatening you to get back together with him else he’ll kill himself (a.k.a. deliberately flunk his majors). Your sunny afternoon returns to its gloomy state, gloomier in fact than you when were inside the sleep-inducing classroom fifteen minutes ago. You know he’s faking it but still agrees to see him because, though you deny it, you still love him (cringe…cringe…).

You decide against eating and head instead to your meeting. You’re happy with your organization but you wish not to come face to face with co-members who think they’re all that when they truthfully aren’t worth an iota of attention. You coercively engage in small conversations (if you can call it that) but pray that the chitchat on boys and make-up or girls and basketball would soon end. You crave for brain-stimulating topics and gratifying talks but at the same time bear in mind to avoid morphing into a self-professed intellectual who, in all astounding wisdom, couldn’t seem to understand the words “Keep Your Voices Down”.

You’re done with your research, decide to skip dinner (again), and by the time you reach your apartment, your tummy’s uprising becomes unbearable. You inwardly smile at the silence of your abode and as you settle for a cracker, you start picking up your roommates’ discarded clothes and washing their used plates. The place would never be clean as you hope to be. And since they’re out for the weekend you realize how much you missed being alone. Sometimes you get tired of reluctantly cheering up to avoid frustratingly being asked “Okay ra ka?” or feign laughter to get your chums to shut up about your stern humorless expression. But at the end of the day you yearn for good company (who sometimes forces you to go out of your comfort zone) and perhaps a hundredfold of shame to fire up your otherwise bland existence.




*as published in the Weekly Sillimanian (September 26, 2007)

My high school buddy Joe says he's having a hard time adjusting to their new place in Arizona. As if leaving his friends in NJ/NY was not enough, he has to find a new job, make new friends, and "start from scratch". That's how life is, he says. You constantly think about those you leave behind especially if the new environment doesn't par with the old one. Via Friendster, I told him to think of his ordeal as a God-destined adventure. Who knows, this new place might brighten his life in ways he never thought of.

If he's longing for his old place, I think I've had enough of laid back Dumaguete. I am counting the days 'til I graduate and get out of this city. I've been here long enough and I know its about time to try another environment where I can start over - meet and establish rapport with new people, set goals, and learn from past mistakes. I am actually looking forward to starting from scratch (Joe and I are in two opposite situations).

That's the beauty of life. It never limits you until you say its over. Even if you're exhausted, it pushes you to move on, to evolve with the challenges. I want to be able to move on without ghosts from the past trailing behind, unattached to the strings that bind me to moments that are soon to become memories. I want to be able to hop from one island of experience to another, even if it means starting from the beginning over and over again. And even if I seem to run in circles, I know that after every round, I learn something new.

What good is the world if you don't explore it?

As I was lazily basking in my period of nonchalance and haven't had the chance to update this blog in a long time, allow me to share the stupid stupidity I've been paying way too much attention to in the last couple of weeks. As much as I want to write about our economy and the impact of globalization to low income earners and the seemingly overrated global warming, my tired and indolent brain could only come up with rants ordinarily common to self-professed intellectuals.

The lady guard

We are supposed to be nice to everybody and treat every human being with equal respect yet how can I possibly tolerate the sort of bullying the lady guard practices? Let's just say she's doing her job and is in authority to demand for identification but digesting Atty. Futalan's words, the plastic rectangular cards holding our identities primarily exists to certify our inclusion in the Silliman community and should the guard recognize the holder, he or she may let the latter in without presenting any ID, or even stressing to do so.

How many times have I inquired about the office key and how many times has she entertained those queries? Countless. I admit I was partly to blame. On that particular day, she asked for my ID but I, in a desperate attempt to get in, said I'll just be in the office and (impolitely) dashed in without stopping even when I vaguely heard her calling me. I know my actions were utterly disrespectful and I was prepared to humble myself except that by the time I went out of the gate, she icily snapped "miss, nganong kung tawgon ka di man ka mulingi?"

Talk about shockers. Good thing I was texting, or pretending to be texting so that I wouldn't have to deal with insignificant characters like her. But then again, what if I decided to retort? What would I have said? Honestly, I was a bit scared of tall women in uniforms like her. God knows if she's a member of a brutal sorority who hunts and then shoots short chubby mean girls like me. Otherwise, why else would I avoid passing by the cafeteria gate in the morning since that little encounter?